Taking a little weekend trip with my hubby means a lot more to me these days; a chance for the two of us to get away and drive out of the cloudiness of the aging into the sunny open road of youth. Doesn’t matter much where we are headed as long as the cares stay at home. That means Mom too….and I really don’t mean that in a bad way. Stop it guilt! You stop that right now!!! Go stand in the corner until I tell you to come out.
We came home Saturday afternoon after two activity-packed days of indulgent moments all about me…excuse me, us. I was thrilled but exhausted. As the clouds began to gather the closer we got to home, my thoughts turned to Mom. I didn’t call her for two days. I hoped she was okay, was able to get her meals and turn the lights out and lock the doors. My adult kids had checked in on her but I didn’t call her….I said “ IN THE CORNER!” Anyway……….we arrived home.
“Welcome home!”
“Thanks Mom! Everything go okay?” She waited at the door with expectant excitement. I couldn’t help but see her as part of our entourage with the three happily yapping dogs. She wanted to kiss my cheek and give me a hug. I had suitcases, shopping bags, purse, a drink and a few other items tucked between my arms and body. I leaned in and hugged her back, while my saint of a husband caught the falling impedimenta.
For the next three hours as I unpacked, read mail, made supper, did laundry, and cleaned up she followed me from room to room sharing every detail of her books she read, her emails she received, the TV shows she watched, and the crossword puzzles that confounded her. I am proud to say I listened patiently and responded as though I cared.
My weekend DID revive me. I DID care. Not about her conversation, but about her smile as she talked, her laugh over something she found entertaining, her unmasked delight in having my attention and ear.
I remember the day I came home from Girl Scout Camp. I missed my Mama. I could talk and talk and she would listen to EVERYTHING I said with great interest. (Don’t tell me the truth – let me believe what I want - my 10 year old perception is sacred!) I told her everything we did at camp and every fanciful imagination in my chatty little head that I wanted her to believe happened. When my wind ran out, she said with a little pat on the head, “Thank you so much for sharing with me. I enjoy hearing about your adventures.”
We watched a movie together; she said good night.
“Mom”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for chatting today. I enjoyed hearing about your days.” She sighed cheerfully as she limped to her room.
Patience does indeed have its benefits! ~K
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Hostess Manners
Don’t you just love a party? I could hang out and eat and laugh and act silly just about any ole time. We had friends over for a Labor Day cookout. We did the meat and veggies and everyone brought side dishes and drinks. We are all long-time friends and everyone knows their way around my kitchen.
I couldn’t wait to try out my new baskets for the grill. Got ‘em at Lowe’s. Coolest things. I cut up kabob sized meat and veggies, marinated them over night in a lime barbeque and put them in the well oiled baskets. And then - to the grill! We stirred them twice and what a feast! I poured them out on the table over brown paper on top of butcher paper and put all the side dishes around.
We called the gang to the kitchen and everyone dug in. Mom usually will stay seated and let me serve her food. As I was running around I heard over the buzz of voices…aghummm. I continued to get ice in the cooler, add some forks to the table, ….a little louder…
“Aghummm.”
“Oh, Mom, would you like me to get your plate now?”
“Yes, that would be very nice. Not too many beans though.”
So I break line and fix her a plate. She loves the hubbub of activity and the service during our get-togethers. “Oh my goodness what a lot of food! I don’t think I can eat it all.”
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
The guys were hanging outside finishing their drinks so I dug in with the ladies and came to the living room to find a seat. My mouth was preparing me, my mind savoring the flavor all the way from the kitchen to the chair….and then…….
“Good heavens, K! You haven’t served your guests and you have just seated your self and started eating. Where are your manners?”
“Mom, they will all serve themselves. That’s what we always do.”
“Well, that is probably what you always do because you have always neglected to serve your guests. You should be embarrassed.”
I think I took my first bite – I don’t know.
Is guilt the bitter herb of patience? ~K
I couldn’t wait to try out my new baskets for the grill. Got ‘em at Lowe’s. Coolest things. I cut up kabob sized meat and veggies, marinated them over night in a lime barbeque and put them in the well oiled baskets. And then - to the grill! We stirred them twice and what a feast! I poured them out on the table over brown paper on top of butcher paper and put all the side dishes around.
We called the gang to the kitchen and everyone dug in. Mom usually will stay seated and let me serve her food. As I was running around I heard over the buzz of voices…aghummm. I continued to get ice in the cooler, add some forks to the table, ….a little louder…
“Aghummm.”
“Oh, Mom, would you like me to get your plate now?”
“Yes, that would be very nice. Not too many beans though.”
So I break line and fix her a plate. She loves the hubbub of activity and the service during our get-togethers. “Oh my goodness what a lot of food! I don’t think I can eat it all.”
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
The guys were hanging outside finishing their drinks so I dug in with the ladies and came to the living room to find a seat. My mouth was preparing me, my mind savoring the flavor all the way from the kitchen to the chair….and then…….
“Good heavens, K! You haven’t served your guests and you have just seated your self and started eating. Where are your manners?”
“Mom, they will all serve themselves. That’s what we always do.”
“Well, that is probably what you always do because you have always neglected to serve your guests. You should be embarrassed.”
I think I took my first bite – I don’t know.
Is guilt the bitter herb of patience? ~K
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Groceries
I used to like going to the grocery store….okay…..that may be a stretch. I use to dislike going to the grocery store a whole lot less than I dislike it now. But it is not the grocery store’s fault. It is really nobody’s fault.
It has become a ritual that mother looks forward to all week. We have our little grocery purchasing plan. She buys her special foods and I buy main meal items. She has her shopping list ready. I don’t know why she makes one because she buys the same thing each week...individual serving containers of applesauce, peaches, tapioca, jello, and a loaf of rye bread. But she is a list person. There are no less than 15 little lists – all over the house. They are the backs of envelopes, old church bulletins, the margin of magazine pages – all the while she has an entire drawer dedicated to cute little notepads she has received as gifts.
Someday, I am sure I will write about her lists, like the time she gave me a list to shop for her - but oops – that was last month’s and now we have two of everything on that list and none of the necessary items from this month’s list.
So back to the grocery store. Mother is inordinately slow. She hates it. She hated it in her mom, so I try to minimize it. We start out in the dairy aisle, the wisdom of which I question considering the time it takes us to shop. She won’t let me push her in a wheelchair because “she doesn’t want to be a bother.” So she slowly makes her way through the aisles and stops, looking through coupons, then reaches for the butter – somehow managing to take up the entire aisle between her cane and her reach.
Others politely wait, tapping their feet, aghhumming, and wryly smiling as she turns with a startle and says , “Oh! Pardon me!”
She then moves away from the cooler to let others by. Of course, she hasn’t picked up the butter yet so she starts the task over. I grab it quickly and say, “No worries, I’ve got it.”
My usual 35 minute grocery store trip becomes an hour and a half and I struggle to be civil near the end. I apologize to those around me and once in a while I receive those knowing sympathetic glances…… which I would appreciate if they did not come with, “Enjoy her while you can. I miss my mine.”
My mind shouts, “I am NOT enjoying this moment. Thankyouverymuch!”
But my heart quickens and I fill with shame that I am so annoyed. And I suddenly remember hanging onto the grocery cart loudly begging for Cocoa Puffs while a tall beautiful, slender woman quickly catches the falling package of baby cereal my toddler brother tossed toward the floor. I remember the breeze of her housedress sweeping past my face and the gentle giggle of her voice as she says to the grocer who was stacking shelves and was nearly decked with the cereal box, “Pardon me!”
So I will cope and be patient. I will!! I will be like Olive Oyl, with arms flying and stretching toward both sides of the grocery aisle, grabbing items wildly – my mother unaware – so that this deplorable task can end a few minutes sooner and she – none the wiser.
Lord, I now know why patience is called a virtue! ~K
It has become a ritual that mother looks forward to all week. We have our little grocery purchasing plan. She buys her special foods and I buy main meal items. She has her shopping list ready. I don’t know why she makes one because she buys the same thing each week...individual serving containers of applesauce, peaches, tapioca, jello, and a loaf of rye bread. But she is a list person. There are no less than 15 little lists – all over the house. They are the backs of envelopes, old church bulletins, the margin of magazine pages – all the while she has an entire drawer dedicated to cute little notepads she has received as gifts.
Someday, I am sure I will write about her lists, like the time she gave me a list to shop for her - but oops – that was last month’s and now we have two of everything on that list and none of the necessary items from this month’s list.
So back to the grocery store. Mother is inordinately slow. She hates it. She hated it in her mom, so I try to minimize it. We start out in the dairy aisle, the wisdom of which I question considering the time it takes us to shop. She won’t let me push her in a wheelchair because “she doesn’t want to be a bother.” So she slowly makes her way through the aisles and stops, looking through coupons, then reaches for the butter – somehow managing to take up the entire aisle between her cane and her reach.
Others politely wait, tapping their feet, aghhumming, and wryly smiling as she turns with a startle and says , “Oh! Pardon me!”
She then moves away from the cooler to let others by. Of course, she hasn’t picked up the butter yet so she starts the task over. I grab it quickly and say, “No worries, I’ve got it.”
My usual 35 minute grocery store trip becomes an hour and a half and I struggle to be civil near the end. I apologize to those around me and once in a while I receive those knowing sympathetic glances…… which I would appreciate if they did not come with, “Enjoy her while you can. I miss my mine.”
My mind shouts, “I am NOT enjoying this moment. Thankyouverymuch!”
But my heart quickens and I fill with shame that I am so annoyed. And I suddenly remember hanging onto the grocery cart loudly begging for Cocoa Puffs while a tall beautiful, slender woman quickly catches the falling package of baby cereal my toddler brother tossed toward the floor. I remember the breeze of her housedress sweeping past my face and the gentle giggle of her voice as she says to the grocer who was stacking shelves and was nearly decked with the cereal box, “Pardon me!”
So I will cope and be patient. I will!! I will be like Olive Oyl, with arms flying and stretching toward both sides of the grocery aisle, grabbing items wildly – my mother unaware – so that this deplorable task can end a few minutes sooner and she – none the wiser.
Lord, I now know why patience is called a virtue! ~K
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