Posts Tagged ‘family’
This Auntie business is serious fun.
Really. Can’t help myself. I went into Freddy’s for a Â birthday card (which I did manage to remember) and found myself in the baby department. I immediately spied this adorable play set that said, “My Auntie thinks I’m Awesome.” Perfection. Except it had ruffles and flowers and was clearly meant for a girl. Um, kinda think nephew’s parents would not approve. I thought about buying it just the same and sending it along with a note that said, “Um, more babies please. I’d like a girl next.” But I should probably reserve that level of obnoxiousness for my own child. In the future.
FAR in the future.
So, I bought this set instead. I mean, it’s not quite the same sentiment, but it does have a futbol on it so, that counts for something. But it makes me sad that there wasn’t a boy’s outfit with the other saying on it. And I’ve spent the afternoon vacillating between wanting to write an angry letter to Carter’s for their clear bias toward girls and wanting to design my own baby line.
Seriously. I’ve waited forever to do this and I can’t help myself. Is there a support group for doting Aunties out there?
Today was a good day. Scary, but good. I’m not going to burden the blog with details (email me if you want the dish), but considering our circumstances, today’s meeting went about as well as we could have hoped. That being said, this is just the beginning of a long journey. The mediator called it “Purgatory”—he had no idea how apt his descriptor is.
But today was a good day. And I am reminding myself that I love my life. No matter the circumstances. Â I am surrounded by people who love me (you should have seen the Facebook posse that showed up yesterday with bits of prayer and wisdom and Star Wars references) and that’s all that matters. Â In the long run, it really is about the relationships you maintain. The house problems will resolve themselves, one way or another.
So we wait. . . with you. Thank you for that.
(the photo was a quick light check for today’s photoshoot. Sunshine arrived. . . a good day indeed.)
Our niece and her new husband cutting cake. How adorable is it, that their wedding cake is actually cupcakes!
Best. Wedding. Ever.
I’m pretty sure that was said a thousand times on Saturday. But it really was perfect. The weather was hot at 4 pm (hello 90′s!), but it cooled quickly after the ceremony to “balmy.” The wedding was held outside at the bride’s parent’s home. They had a huge white tent and gorgeous round tables covered in white cloths with purple accents. Melanie carried lavender roses and hydrangeas…so romantic. The party lasted late into the night—since it was mostly family and close friends.
For me, a great wedding isn’t about decor or flowers or food—though those things help, right? It’s about intention. It was clear that the bride and the groom spent months working on their vows and planning details that would make people feel comfortable. I’ve been to so many weddings where groups of people sat at their own “lunch table” never to mingle. Where it’s clear everyone feels more than a tad awkward? I didn’t make it around to every table, but it felt like people were mingling constantly—getting to know distant cousins or catching up with old friends and I don’t think I saw any wall-flowers hanging on the edges the whole night. It really was an amazing wedding!
Hate the hair. Hate the dress. Love the dog. Guess which one I’m keeping?!
This hasn’t been my finest day. Tears and pity. I’ll confess, I’m struggling a bit. It’s all vanity and it’s all pointless, in terms of the bigger things in my life like my health and how to pay the mortgage —miniscule Â when put on the earthquake and floods and war scale. But there are days when perspective cannot be found. Where you weep in your beer wishing things just weren’t so.
The thing is, I’ve lost nearly 12lbs since December. That’s nothing to brag about—except that it’s more weight than I’ve ever managed to get off at one time (unless you count that 6 month period when my thyroid went haywire and bumped up my resting heart-rate to 140). And while I have at least 10lbs more to go (ideally 15, but I’m a pragmatist about these things) my weight loss has S Â L Â O Â W Â E Â D to an nearly imperceptible pace. It’s not weight gain, but a half pound in 6 weeks is hardly worth counting.
A gift from my son. Which just proves my point, I don’t think this kid is listening to me.
Whew! We survived yesterday. On a humorous note, I have to tell you: if this blog’s stats are any indication, there’s a whole lot of angst over this holiday! Last week’s stats was lit up with google searches for “honest Mother’s Day Cards.” If you’re an enterprising sort, there is clearly a market for “telling mom like it is” on Mother’s Day! I’m not advocating it, as much as observing. You could probably follow up with “Honest Father’s Day” cards and cards for “Ungrateful children who don’t send Mother’s Day Cards.” Seriously, folks, that’s what been bringing traffic to my blog all week.
That’s what I get for writing a post about not being a fan of Mother’s Day. IZ got my full fledged sermon on our walk yesterday—everything I’d say to all those people out there about the holiday, about what real mothering looks like and how it is imperative for those of us who “celebrate” to “mother” those who can’t. Lucky for you, he’s a built in congregation Â of one and sermonizing is now out of my system. But it was a good sermon, complete with emphatic hand gesturing! I’ll just sum it up with what I told facebook, “Rejoice with those who rejoice. Mourn with those who mourn. It’s really not that difficult!”
Or, it shouldn’t be. I saw a lot of evidence to the contrary, last week. People, so called loving mothers, eager Christians, behaving in ways that were neither. There is something about this holiday that brings out very raw emotions—no matter what side of the issue. Ultimately, when I get past my ire and angst, I just feel sad. Sad for those who are mourning. Sad for those who cannot do the very basic act of the mothering that they insist on celebrating!
I should know better.
Anyhow, I don’t celebrate, but apparently my kid didn’t get the memo. He bought me a blank card, telling his father that he didn’t want one of those “sappy” cards. (GOOD BOY!) And he bought a replacement orchid for the one I accidentally offed with too much love last year. His father got around the edict by having a “non-mother’s day dinner” the night before. I love them.
And here’s the thing, the very bottom of my philosophy (for lack of a better word) on the matter: NO GUILT. I was touched and honored and completely charmed by their efforts. But I don’t have expectations. Our son remembered on his own (HUGE!!) and insisted on doing something with his own money. I’m not going to say “no” to that. I’m going to rejoice in the fact that my kid is kinda really great. But I’m also not going to get all weepy and demanding when, eventually, some other woman is the center of his universe.
Can I get an Amen?
My pile of hope. Vintage tablecloths for the front porch. A girl can dream of sunny weather, right?
. . . Spring isn’t ready to arrive. Not really. And yet, despite the deluge that has been our weather, and promises to be our weather the rest of the week, it’s hard to complain when you consider the South. Prayers that direction.
. . .I am utterly thankful for the extra padding on my thighs. I spent a good part of today in waiting rooms. Waiting for a blood draw. Waiting for Xrays. And the frailty of several elderly women struck me. Their tiny bones peeking out from their clothes reminded me that this extra padding I’m carrying around isn’t all that bad. So, today at least, I’m going to rejoice about these thighs of mine.
. . . A clearly sick man struggle with his coat as his wife watched… I couldn’t help but wonder. Is she indifferent? Or, is she really being loving? Giving him his independence, his space, his dignity. And how difficult it must be to walk that line when someone you love is sick. And how deeply blessed I am to be growing old with someone who has that particular skill mastered.
. . . That my husband is a schmaltzy romantic in the most obscure ways. Just realized that the password he set up for an account of mine is actually a numerical representation of “I love Wende”. I’m clueless, sweetheart, but I 7492 you too.
. . . Children grow too fast. Not just their feet and hands and legs, but also their hearts. I bought a pair of tiny, tiny Converse shoes for a nephew I will never meet, and I couldn’t help but remember feet that tiny. Rejoicing over a 14 year old, with feet far larger than mine, who still offers me hugs.
. . . Thankful for the spirit to face our difficulties with joy and gratitude and a sense of adventure. Budget cutting again? No problem, I can do that. Wait, rephrase, WE can do that.
What are you observing today?