chalk board update

buy stamps
Cry, "Champs!"
Hi, Gramps!
Bye, tramps
dry camps
my lamps
high ramps
die, scamps!
Jesse, visit Dallin

(That last thing on the list was a message from my grandson, I think he hadn't noticed we had a rhyming thing going).

And I DID get stamps today!

birthday girl

Today is my birthday. Someone once told me that life begins at forty but ends at fifty. I’ve thought about that through these last 18 years and have decided that, for me anyway, it is not necessarily true. Oh sure, I am moving a little slower, I wake a bit achy in the joints, and I know the pharmacist’s first name. But all in all I think this is the best time of my life. Years of experiences have made me skilled and wise. My children are way past those hard years of needing constant vigilance and I now can enjoy them as intelligent and capable adults; their children have become my delight. Working has widened my circle of friends as well as my circle of influence, a very rewarding thing for me. Although my body is aging, I feel better now than ever before, if only because I can take time to take care of myself and things like arthritis and diabetes give me the motivation to do so. My perspective on life has evolved over the years and I think I finally have a handle on what it all means, what works. I have a greater compassion for others, I am more accepting. I have a more relaxed attitude about things, I’ve learned how to be flexible and adapt; I am calmer. And I now know what it means to love and be loved, “the supreme happiness of life.” Most importantly, I now appreciate who I am, who I have become and I am very comfortable with myself. I like myself. I am in a position to honor my needs and respect my wants. There is a peace and joy about me, within me, that I haven’t really experienced to this degree before. The little pleasures of life seem grander and I enjoy them so much more than I used to. Life is more delicious. It has taken me a very long time to get to this place, but I love being here. For me, I’d have to say that life began at 53 and it just keeps getting better!

chocolate quilt

Queen-sized quilt designed by and for my daughter-in-law, Kira. Machine appliqued and hand-quilted by me.

take meds

The chalk board in our kitchen is a handy place to leave notes, makes lists, and, for me, reminders to myself of things I might forget to do. Recently I left myself the reminder "take meds" so I wouldn't forget as I left town for the day. When I came home, the reminder had grown into this list:
make beds
rake heads
stake sheds
break sleds
fake reds
shake dreds
bake breads
wake Neds

Then this week, I left the reminder "trash day" which by the end of the day had grown to include:
ash tray
cash pay
mash clay
sashay
splash play

I'm thinking my children have too much time on their hands. They need to find a Ned somewhere to wake up or some clay to mash...

balloon magic

This week at work while I was playing with one of our special ed. students and a balloon, I discovered a certain spot in our room where the air currents could hold the balloon in mid-air, seemingly by magic. Although the novelty of it was totally lost on my sped student, I was quite impressed and called over other sped teachers and aides to see. They were duly impressed and invited their students to come see. For the next few days, as anyone came into the room, the floating balloon was pointed out to them. It didn’t take long to realize that I had not only discovered a magical spot, but I had also discovered a test for cognitive acuteness, for lower-functioning students didn’t grasp the significance of a balloon suspended in mid-air, wanting to take the balloon itself at face value, puzzled that it didn’t have a string so they could hang onto it. Higher-functioning students, on the other hand, expressed amazement, some even wanting to know how it worked. Whodathought!

Mothers Day

I have been missing my babies lately. It’s been such a long time since I gave one of them a bath, helped them blow their nose, since I held them in my arms and rocked them to sleep, read them a story… you know, all those things that mothers do a million times, wondering if the children will ever grow up and do it on their own. But they do grow up, and this is one mother that, today anyway, misses it all. There are such simple joys that make up raising children and once in a while I just wish I could experience those simple joys once again. I’d love to watch Nathan reading a book and be in awe of his intelligence. I’d love to hear Eli laughing so hard he could hardly tell the joke that is funny only to him. I’d love to hear Jesse in the kitchen brewing up a “delicious” concoction of rice, beans, spices and other sundry things (not necessarily edible), then have him insist I eat it… I wish I could see Aaron dancing with a radio clipped to his diaper, Hannah’s expressive eyes as she “reads” the scriptures, making things up as she goes, all in “scripture-speak.” And how I’d love to see Isaac do somersaults across the living room floor, a hundred at a time. But as they grow, the simple pleasures of raising children turn into thrills at their accomplishments: Nate’s playing trumpet solo with the jazz band; Eli’s amazing performance as a dead man in a high school play; Jesse’s computer animation, Aaron’s tennis matches, Hannah’s art. Isaac’s somersaults are now mid-air off a diving board! And the thrills never end. Each one of the children has grown to become a wonderful, impressive, capable, accomplished, good adult (well, I guess Isaac isn’t quite an adult yet). They do me proud. They do me humble, too, to think that I have been so honored as to be a part of their lives. That I am the one that got to give them baths, hold them in my arms and read to them. That I got to hear their laughter, kiss their boo-boos, and be in awe of their absolute amazingness. This is the true joy of motherhood, getting to watch (and being a part of) a human being’s progress through life from the beginning of it. It is truly a wonderful experience.

time bandits

Time is burden. Not just at the time changes every fall and spring, where we have to convince ourselves (and the children) to get up before the roosters crow or go to bed before the sun sets… Not just because so many weeks have passed since I made a blog entry, either… Time measures our lives, and I’m getting frustrated that time is catching up with me, I’m having the feeling that I am starting to run out of it. I remember the year I decided to quit wearing a watch. It was a difficult thing for me because I am, by nature, prompt and orderly. But I found a sense of freedom in not being bound by a watch and I was still prompt and orderly (perhaps because I still had a clock in every room, including the bathroom, and also in the car). Marco, my special ed. kindergartener-in-a-fourth-grade body, is having difficulty understanding time. He is governed more by routine. One morning he was taken out of class for some testing and when he returned to class became very upset thinking he had missed lunch. We review the calendar every day with him, trying to help him understand the days of the week and months of the year, but none of it seems to sink in, because it doesn’t really matter to him (as long as he gets his lunch). At the end of every day I walk him to the bus. During our final walk down the hall he takes my hand, gazes into my eyes and asks, “School tomorrow?” “Yes,” I say. In disbelief he asks, “Again?” I chuckle and explain to him, again, the days of the week. That satisfies him, but still, as he jumps on the bus each day, he gives me one last wave and calls, “Have a nice weekend.” That is part of his routine, our routine. And so I wonder, really, how and when did I let time become a burden. And then begs the question, how can I undo it? Maybe in a way, it is being more like Marco, enjoying the events of life as they come, whenever they come.