A mother's love

The other day I got to witness the love of a mother.

Twice.

The first time was when my sister and her daughter walked through the orchard picking apples. Sampled apples. Laughed in the early fall sunshine. Brainstormed recipes that would soon fill their oven. Allowed their humbled sister and aunt to share in these pleasures.

The second time was when we saw the trace of a mother who said "We'll just TAKE THE PANTS OFF, hang them FROM THE CAR WINDOW, and KEEP PICKING".

Pretty in Pink

I know that everyone mourns differently. Having been surrounded by death in my everyday life, I sometimes feel as though I am jaded. It happens all the time, it happens to everyone, let's deal with it and move one.

But it is different. Especially when it is someone close. Someone whose smile lights up a room, whose laugh penetrates the hearts and souls around them and whose pink lips could make anyone wish they could wear lipstick too.

I missed out on mourning as a group for Muzz, but I did not miss out on mourning. I thought of her as I passed through the grocery store the other day and saw Lorna Doone's. I see Maddy and Tese, and Andrew and can't help to think of her. I mourn as a mother, as a daughter, a sister, a relative, a Catholic, a friend.

I can't imagine one life, one heart, one smile, having an effect on so many. And she did. What a beautiful, shining example for all of us to remember and embody.

Now let's see if my lips are up to it.

Lift High the Cross

The Recessional Hymn today was "Lift High the Cross" and frankly, I've never heard it sung with more energy or fervor. I am certain the angels heard us.

Lift high the cross

The love of Christ proclaim

Till all the world

adore His sacred name...

As I sat in St. Pat's I couldn't help but wonder about, how many of us were wondering about, how many people would be at our funerals, when we were the ones to die. At communion the people poured fourth. And didn't stop coming. What a testament to Muzz and her bountiful love. And how incredibly humbling for all us witnesses.

As Uncle Bri so pointedly stated, "Death is so final...". And it is. It is, I thought as I listened to his words and stared at the half-masted-flag billowing above the hundreds of mourners that filed into MKCC today. And the stinging began in the backs of my eyes once again. All I can believe, I told Bri, is that we go to some place more special than this.

It is hard to go there - into the depths of my mind wondering and worrying and worrying and wondering about what happens when we die. And I feel like I've been there a lot lately. Fielding the countless and unyielding questions from my curious wondering 4 year-old who always seems to ask the REALLY hard ones, just when I'm at my weakest moments. Today HE told ME that Muzz went to heaven by helicopter. Excellent, I thought. He knows far more about this than I.

And then I drift along again thinking how hard it is to imagine the world drifting along. Carrying on. Carrying on without me. Or today, without Muzz. The sea of people on the buffet line, ordering drinks from the bar, making small talk about the hot weather. Where WAS MUZZ?

Was she with us? Could she hear us singing? Did she see?

Fast forward three hours to an energy filled car-ride (thanks to a bag of 6 oreos). Dec and I were to deliver Mads to Muffs for dinner and reunite her with her amazingly wonderful parents. (P.S. you really are the best).

With Dec and Mads, chittering and chattering in the back, I turned up the volume on the cd and tuned them out for a few moments. I reflected on the day. Where do we go? How will Mr. Z fair by himself? What will his world be like without her?

My questions were abruptly interrupted by words being belted from the back seat. Mads was singing along (with fervor!) to one of my faves. Not to be outdone, Dec chimed in moments later. I turned the volume way up and savored every moment of hearing these two cousins sing the words to a song that I never would have guessed they'd know the words to.

It goes a little something like this:

I welcome the sun,
the clouds and rain,
the wind that sweeps the sky clean
and lets the sun shine again.
this is the most magnificent life has ever been.
here is heaven and earth
and the brilliant sky in between.

blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

I dwell in the darkness
I let in the light
I sleep in the afternoon
and become the noise in the night
I trespass in temptation
suffered in sacrifice
but I awake each day with a new sunrise

blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive
blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

~ Brett Dennen (the amazing brett dennen)

And, as I pulled into Muffs, the two wee ones still belting out the words, I thought that maybe -just maybe - that was Muzzy telling me not to worry so much about the future, but to enjoy the brilliance of now.

And just like that, I had some of the answers to my questions from earlier in the day.

She was with us.

She could hear us singing.

And she did see.

Sweet Nonie

Happy birthday to my girl.
Who says you can't have your cake and eat it too?

Today, you and I proved this proverb to be untrue.

MY A.D.S.

My "A.D.S." - After Dinner Shuffle (defined in Emah's post just down there, below my post about Enya) this evening was successful.

After I finished paying homage to Enya, I deserved something. Something Sweet.

So, I sashayed to the treat stash and opened a new pack of oreos.

While I pulled back the (rather loud) wrapper, I justified that 4 oreos were deserved.

One for each member of our family.

Made complete sense at the time, even though I was the only one eating them.

'Cause I was the only one still awake.

They were good. Darn good.

All four of them.

Thanks for asking.

It just takes a little Enya, sometimes.

Dear Enya. You lulled my entire household to a happy place this evening.
I owe ya one.

P.S. Miss Nonie is missing from these photos because Enya lulled her to sleep sooner than expected!
P.P.S. Both boys are squeaky clean in that photo!!! Love that.

The DNA of sweets...

I know it's all about food, but I like food. I especially like cake. I worked all day, cleaned, organized bins and bins of kids clothing. Up and down into the attic multiple times. I only almost only fell off once while holding a bin of clothes over my head.

Now sitting here, all I want is cake. With icing. Lots of it. I blames genetics for this. Growing up there was not much formal desert. Maybe the occasional ccc (chocolate chip cookie) if someone happened to bake that day. But there was ALWAYS the after dinner shuffle...trying to keep quiet the rustle...crunch...rustle...munch of someone looking for a treat.

Whether it was a handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips or one of dad's Stella Dora's (I'm pretty sure he figured out none of us would touch these, so he could have the whole packet to himself) there was a sweet tooth that needed to be soothed. And that has been passed on to me. And here I am. Sitting. About to pad onto the kitchen to quietly rustle..crunch...rustle....trying to keep quiet so Bri doesn't know.

But it's not me. It's my teeth. They're telling me to do it. And while I know I may find something in there, I know there is no cake.

But there is some butter out on the counter waiting for an ambitious person to bake something.

Maybe tomorrow.

Cake...it's my downfall.

+/- 3 Hours

Last year, on the first day of school, Dec consoled the boy that no one could console. He shared a puzzle. He led the sobbing boy to the snack table and sat with him. And soon enough, they were friends. The sad boy was no longer sad. Instead, we referred to him as one of Dec's dear friends.

Admittedly, Dame and I went over the top this year with conversations about how we hoped Dec would reach out to other children and help anyone else who is sad during their first few days of school. Make sure you're on the lookout for someone who needs a friend, we said.

As it turned out, the stories that we pulled from his 4-year-old mouth indicated that all was well at school this year. Everyone was getting on just fine. Good.

But (thanks in large part to the Dad/Mom factor), crying kids on the first day of school was at the forefront of Dec's mind. Radar? On.

On this, his 5th morning of school, we were zipping along down the road for drop-off when his little voice chirped up from behind me...

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, buddy..."

"Did anyone cry on your first day of college?"

(Pause)

Then stinging in my eyes.

Hmmmm. Wasn't prepared for that one.

Still, no words. (Poor kid probably thought I was ignoring him).

If I hadn't been fighting back tears, I would have told him all about the time Granny Annie dropped me off for my first day of BC, only to return 72 hours later to console me.

And I would have told him about the card (that I still have) that Granny wrote to me during my 2nd week of school insisting that she could be with me in +/- 3 hours. If needed.

And I certainly would have told him about all the additional times I put Granny's +/-3 hour challenge to the test over the course of 4 years.

Instead, in a whispered voice I said, "Yes buddy. I cried on the first day of college".

Shock filled his simple, "why?"

"I missed my mommy."

And with that, we were in the parking lot of school.

In +/- 3 minutes, Dec squeezed my hand as we walked through the parking lot, and gave me a lingering hug by his cubbyhole.

And so this morning, on his 5th day of pre-school, Dec consoled me. Once again I was humbled by my little guy who is so so good.

He was on the lookout for someone who needed a friend today. And that someone was me.

My domain

I like when all the dishes are on the right side of the sink.

That's the clean side.

On becoming my computer

So I've been having some trouble catching a deep breath the last few days. I remember this feeling take over me at random times in my past. It's not a feeling of pain, just a bit of suffocation mixed with a whole lot of frustration. The end of the world? No. Once every couple of tries I can catch a good deep breath and I enjoy every second of it. Letting it go with some sort of satisfying sound that I hope it recognizes as the "come back soon" I am intending.

I went to yoga to force myself to take my mind off my breath, or my breath off my mind. Whichever came first really.

As I was bending into my pained and straightened legs it hit me.

I HAVE BECOME MY COMPUTER.

You know how I complain that it is fussy? A lot? Both my complaints and my computer's fussiness? While I can click click click click click click CLICK on that darn button to upload pictures and work myself into a mad frenzy, I dare to use profanities that even this "smart" machine can't understand and it, IT, draws a blank. Like it's looking at me and saying "well I just FORGET what that button's supposed to DO so LAYOFF". (I like to pretend my computer is a cranky teenager girl).

Then... wait. That click WORKED. What did I do? How did I get it to work that time? How many clicks did I need to click before this click understood me? How can I repeat this the next time I want a picture so I can just, well, GET my picture. What's the pattern here?

That's what my breath has become. I heave, and huff, and moan, and wince and WAIT. That one worked. I am breathing a deep breath. How many huff and moan combinations was that? Or was it a wince then a heave?

The trouble here is, I don't have the answer. To either of these finicky situations.

I am sitting here, frantically clicking and heaving and clicking and heaving.

Don't feel too bad for me. 'Cause even though I made a big salad for dinner someone else, who shall remain nameless, got home before me and ate it and I was forced to eat the coconut cake that Tese and I borrowed from Mr. G's freezer.

Oh! See! I knew she would listen.

MMMmmmm.

Love Fest Hug Fest Three Across is Best.

Cousins. Three across. Awaiting the next adventure. Taking Stew by storm.

Hugs and I Love You's...

I am pretty sure we've touched on the hugs.

I am not a touchy feely type. At all. Sometimes I even look at people who I know don't know each other all that well and see them hugging, fakely, exaggerating it so as to draw attention to themselves, and I cringe.

But I do love hugs, and I love you's. Especially unwarranted ones. Today I got a lot. And so did Nonie. Poor girl. Just sitting strapped into the shopping cart minding her own business watching the singing milk cartons and tasting every sample Stew had to offer. With monster Xave grabbing her from behind for 20 minutes.

After some free samples, mini cider donuts, chicken fingers and a candy corn or two we climbed back into the car. And while everyone was tired, no one closed their eyes. A very bleary eyed Dec repeated from the back, "Emma, I love you" over and over again. Just like he does every week we are together. And I melt.

I will miss our Wednesday fundays when I start my new job, but will do my best to make some time for the four of use. Two boys and two girls, it's a perfect combo.

And plenty of hugs to go around.

Stories not found in books

Went to the vineyard in search of something.

Not sure what that something was.

And I found a 4 year old boy curling up with me in the loft "compartment" asking me to tell him stories that are not found in books.

And I found an ambitious almost 1 year old who can (shockingly) pick her own self up and get where she needs to go. Whenever she wants to go there. Even if it is in the darkness of night.

And I found my motivation to go to the vineyard summed up in the following quote in a magazine I picked up the first night:

"I hope to spend a day on Martha's Vineyard an island which has always seemed remote enough from the world to enable one to get a perspective on what is going on."
Eleanor Roosevelt

And written in the sand on the beach.

And in the smiles of my amazingly wonderful children and their equally wonderful cousin...

And then I knew that I had squeezed every single last drop out of this summer.

And I was happy.

Cereal

Maybe this comes as no surprise to you, or maybe you just simply have no idea.

I love cereal.

I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Unsure of when this love affair started, I am tracing its roots back to Gray Rock Park Road. I can picture the wood cabinets taller than my seven year old self. Inside held cardboard boxes whose contents tasted not unlike their container. Nothing a few scoops of sugar to cover the top couldn't fix. Mmm!! Insantly the Cheerioes became hoops for my sugar to dance through, Rice Krispies popped the sweet sound of Snap! Crackle! Sugar!

We all marveled at Dad's routine habit of mixing cereals. What?!? Combining flavorless flavors? It's so odd, so grotesque. All through my years I stare slyly at people who combined their cereals. What will their reaction be when these two worlds collide in their mouth? Will they spit it back in the bowl?

I never really got it. Until I got it.

A gross box of cereal.

Now let me be true. I require at least two cereals in the rotation to switch back and forth to each morning. Part of my bedtime routine is getting excited about which kind I'll choose in the morning. But this cereal. I was not excited.

Turns out, I had just cooked up a batch of homemade granola - not skimping on the honey and brown sugar. I decided I'd give it a whirl as a "topping" on my wheat flakes.

Cereal.

On cereal.

I didn't even spit it out.

Matter of fact it was pretty darn good. I was sad to see the wheat flakes go.

And this is what Mama Earth did.

Last night the sun set right on me. On us.

Down at the lake with the kiddos in tow.

I raced in from work and whisked them away to the beautiful out-of-doors that I had admired all day from my stuffy office window.

Determined to spend some "quality time" before the sunset, I threw blankets on them in the red wagon and wheeled them as fast as I could to the lake. To the LAKE! To the LAKE!

I was still dressed in my fashionable heels and crisp work clothes.

Nonie chewed on Dec's wandering fingers while I pulled.

Once our feet hit the soft sand, the kids dug and scooted and ran about, and played with sticks.
I sat quietly and observed them and their surroundings.

And this is what Mama Earth did.

TGIT

Thank

Goodness

It's

Today

Although the air is getting crisper

and the sun is setting earlier

and work is starting tomorrow

and I'm not getting paid as much as I would like to be

and I don't have the job I wish I did

and my computer is fussy

and I think the neighbor's have realized I'm "borrowing" their internet

and I'm just about out of garbage bags and the bin is full

and I haven't seen some family since Sunday

and I would love to make some homemade bread but I'm trying not to EAT bread

and I can't find a good deoderant that doesn't smell like b.o.

and there's no puppy to play with after work

and my "puppy jar" money was used to buy a couch

and my handyman hasn't seemed to figure out that the pile of framed items in the corner of the kitchen would look so much cuter hanging on the wall...

...I'm still happy it's today.

And I can kick off my shoes (that give me blisters and ballet-slip-right-off-my-feet-while-I'm-trying-to-walk) and give thanks for what I do have.
At the top of my list is everyone who reads this blog (unless someone not-related has stumbled across it, to which I say... my apologies).
Among other things.

Because "if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's; we'd grab ours back".
True.

Oh and look - my chairs are making their grand debut. I managed to cover all four of them, the last while it still had 1 bolt connecting the seat to the wood. Talented? Probably. Unless you look from the bottom-up.