Princess manners or; Lessons from my Mom 2/28/14

I had a 'princess tea party' with a four year old last night.  She was adorable.  I think it was an excuse to con me out of a cookie and some ice cream, but we had fun.  Real sweet tea in the teapot, Disney princess cups, the works.  She asked the cutest question along the way:  "Do princesses always have to use their manners?" I answered very thoughtfully (this not being my child.....) "Of course they do!  But every now and then, a princess might be hanging out with her other princess girl friend and they might not need quite as many manners."  Answer accepted.  A few minutes later, when she said something about dog poop, I surmised that I was now a princess girl friend and the tea party was over.

She made me think of all the wisdom that women give their little princesses all through life. Some is fun, some very serious. I made a little list, just to honor all the fun, loving and very important things I learned from my mom....and her mom, her aunt, and others along the way!

A few of the royal rules:

1.       “No” can be used as a complete sentence.  Often.

2.       When nobody else gives you flowers for a while, buy them for yourself

3.       If I set foot in the ocean, every sailfish, grouper, whale, salmon, ray, octopus, turtle, dolphin, hippo, shark, and anything else out there will come bite my toes.

4.       Any creature that doesn't live in the ocean is welcome in my house. (Except big snakes.)

5.       Every now and then, you just gotta buy yourself a Camaro.

6.       Always wear your lipstick and polish your toes, you never know who you’re going to meet.

7.       If you’re good at something and it benefits others, say ‘yes’ more often than you say ‘no’.

8.       Electronics purchases are based on how pretty the lights are.

9.       Wear a slip.

10.   Call when you get there.

11.   Whatever your creative self does, do it to make yourself happy.  Don’t worry about getting rich or famous, just do it for fun.

12.   There is no stopping point to the acquisition of jewelry (that one is really mine…)

13.   Plants are friends.

14.   Shoes are not friends.

15.   Dogs and cats are equals.

16.   Any recipe can be adapted.

17.   A good tan hides a lot.

18.   Every now and then, spending the entire Saturday with your best friend is just necessary.

19.   Kids are everything.  Until grandkids come along, and then there is a new category of everything.

20.   Pray without ceasing.

I love you, mom!

Getting Poked, Prodded, and Patted 2/26/14

I ran over a nail.  My new car beeped at me "Low Tire Pressure!!".  I saw the nail - it was toward the outside of the tire, just stuck in there.  I went to get it fixed and ended up having to buy a tire for my new car.  My car had 825 miles on it that day.  I laughed it off, texting my friend: "Life keeps poking me." As in a nail...in a tire....get it?

I went to the doctor.  The first round of pills had not cleared the bronchitis and I felt worse.  He sat me on the table and checked ears, nose, throat, told me I was very congested (I didn't feel like I was...) and then told me he was going to press on my face, let him know if it was painful.  He even moved my bangs out of the way.  That is a big deal, you know, those bangs are carefully placed and lightly, oh so lightly sprayed each morning so as to look naturally carefree and beautiful.  I am a product of the Farrah years, you know.  The doctor moved my bangs and pressed and prodded my whole face.  It did not hurt.  Worrying about getting my bangs fixed hurt a lot more. He prescribed more pills to make me well, and I repaired my hair once I got in the car.

I pet my dogs and cats regularly, I love them and can't resist giving them a good pat or scratch.  They seem to like it, the cute little furbabies.  I also get petted regularly.  No, that is not leading where you think!  Every work day of my life, I teach little ones in the afternoon.  Five and six year olds.  They also have to walk right past me every day to switch from music to PE, or the other way round.  Here's what it looks like when a child that age wants to tell me something:  They stand, their little head waist-high to my adult self, elbow bent, with their hand patting the first part of me it can find.  I get my stomach patted several times a day.  They don't care or look when they pat, they just want to tell some news!  "It's my mom's birthday today!" "My tooth came out!" "Joey hit me!' The stomach pat makes sure that I will bend my head and look right into their earnest little eyes.

There are also the same little darlings that think the pat should be used to get my attention if my back is turned.  Let's just say that it does!  All in all, I think all the poking, prodding and patting that happens in my life serves to move me around a bit, but then put me right back where I was before.  It's not fun to have to buy a new tire just because of a nail.  It's not fun to get my face prodded, be prescribed more medicine and get my hair messed up, either. It's not really fun to get my tummy patted as if I were a household pet - but then again, those little faces and their excitement over what they have to share makes the tire and the hair fall back into second place because they love me and want to tell me their "stuff".  The nail in my tire didn't love me, and I'm fairly sure after all these years that my hair doesn't love me (maybe love-hate...) but the 'patters'?  They love me.  So I teach them to just speak to me, or raise their hand, but all the way until they turn eleven and leave me for middle school, I remember the little arm that used to pat me; and I laugh inside.

Hate-Memes and Hiding Friends 2/21/14

Life is a contest, right? Who makes the most, has the most loving family, looks the best, drives the best, chooses the most "in" entertainment, restaurants, activities....all a competition.  We brag, we share "neat" things we did, we applaud our friends and family on social networking, we sometimes talk in mysterious code, acronyms, specialized terms from our new activity - just so we look like we are the best.

Everyone wants to be the smartest, too.  Just invent an app that is an IQ test and gives great results; the average person can score a '160' on your scale.  You'll make your million by shares on social networking, because everybody wants to be a genius.  Make people feel smart and you will win.  

Social networking also lends itself to the sharing of beliefs.  It's a rare person that does not have their 'religion' listed as something.  It's a rare person that doesn't every now and then thank some entity or another for a wonderful event, or request prayer for difficult times.  The thing is; as we compete to be the best, and strongly state our beliefs, some start tearing down others.  It is not enough for some folks these days to post positive things about what they believe, they must tear down and disprove any opposing beliefs. Many choose to do so with the ready-made worded photos that sometimes have a link to a ranting, one-sided news story.  I call these "hate memes".   Hate memes sprinkle my social network page with regularity.  I know, you believe in your cause, you believe you're right and you're out to set everybody else straight.  Only guess what?  It doesn't work.  Most people ignore them.  The ones that 'like' them, or comment on them either completely agree with you, or are looking for a good argument....but never to change their mind.  Maybe there is some alternate group of friends that discuss things thoughtfully and weigh the evidence of what others believe against their own beliefs carefully.........nah.

I have actually hidden a few of my more common "hate-meme" posting friends from my news feed.  I didn't un-friend them, I like them as people. They don't know I've hidden them, so there are no repercussions.  I just don't enjoy knowing how much you hate this politico or that.  I'm secure in my personal beliefs and will gladly enjoy what you have to share;  (as long as you don't call other's beliefs stupid) recipes, favorite old song videos, and quizzes (see, my preferences may annoy you!)  It's fun sometimes to spend an hour or two on Facebook - and post several links to things you enjoy.  Others may get tired of my Peter Frampton videos, pictures of my pets, bragging about my choir and especially those pesky blog posts.  I get it - everyone is free to look or not look.  Also - free to hide or not hide - a great Facebook feature that keeps feelings from being hurt.

My main concern, though, comes with those that have started to interact on a personal basis as if they are personifying a hate-meme.  I have seen people tell each other they are idiots, they don't know anything, they don't deserve an answer.....all sorts of rude things.  I honestly think that if your goal is to look intelligent enough to prove that your beliefs are much better than someone else's (because, after all, you are smarter...) then you need to be told that you are painting yourself into the dunce's corner every time you belittle or hurt someone else.  I suppose I'm throwing out a Rodney King-type plea here "Can't we all just get along?" - and it won't ever happen because humans want to be the best.  I just wanted to say, though, you don't win if you're mean.  The Internet makes it a lot easier to be mean, and too many have fallen into that trap.  So, take your 180 IQ that the Facebook test says you have and use it to be humble, informed and positive about your own beliefs.  Quit being mean just because you're only sitting at a keyboard or using a phone and none of those people out there seem real.  You won't win.

Still no right or wrong? (With apologies to the Yankees...)

The "D" is wearing off my ring; my spoon ring that Mom had made from the DuRant family monogrammed silver. Yes, I will probably joke with you and tell you that we hid that silver from the Yankees, just as Scarlett would have, but I really don't think it's been around that long.  It makes me sad that the initial is a lot less pronounced than it used to be, but I don't want to stop wearing it.  It's one of my favorite pieces of jewelry. What's the right thing to do?  Who will ever love the ring more than I do?  Shouldn't I get the full enjoyment from it?  It's quite a silly dilemma, I know, and it doesn't matter.  I still wonder about how you decide things of this nature, though. Can I truly just do what I want?  Am I really still allowed to say there is no right and no wrong?

    I don't know anymore.  What's right, that is....or what's wrong.  And this sentiment has nothing to do with people that have questioned me or told me "You better watch out...."  I am a very fortunate woman; everyone supports me, cheers me on, tells me how smart I am, etc.  I am obviously smart enough to surround myself with the right people, wink wink.  Here's what I don't know - when do  I throw out that "no right, no wrong" philosophy because it has become a crutch that allows me to be a spoiled brat that says "I want this...." and gets it, with no regard for anyone involved in whatever "it" is?

This is a subject that needs a lot of "thought".  I wish it could be all light and fun.  But it's not, and I do mean to approach it still.  I want to ensure that I take the right path.  I've seen and known people that use their circumstance as an excuse to be selfish.  A "dowager countess", or "poor widow" attitude - where everyone in society still today makes excuses for their behavior.

I know that I am not a selfish bitch.  Please don't look at this and think that you have to say "Oh, no, you're not, blah blah blah.....".  I know that.  I am talking more about an inner attitude than outward actions.  I can behave myself with the best of them.   It's what I think when something is happening that has changed.  You would never know.  If you know me at all, you know that it's very difficult to tell how I really, truly feel, much less what I think; unless I let you. I have a privacy fence around my true feelings that has very few gates.

I'm stepping into uncharted territory.  I'm doing my best to finish: probate, transfers of property, vehicle sales and purchases, taxes, completing a year alone, making every decision, and always being the one to pet every animal.  I've done it.  I haven't been perfect, but I don't allow myself to be far off perfect.  However, I am also now a single person.  That's frightening.  I mean.......I realized I was  'single' the night my husband died. I just didn't put all the accessories with it, because the all-engulfing sadness of losing your spouse doesn't let you do that.  As I have traveled the road of time, I am able to put the feelings in their place.  The sadness is there.  So is laughter, pride, aggravation and loneliness.  But it also has me realizing that a part of my life is wearing off.  It's becoming a memory instead of a reality.

I suppose some people choose to put all their feelings under glass and live out the rest of their life in a sort of acid-free, preserved way. And others choose to shift the feelings as they change; to sort them and file them in the right place. Personally, I'm at a crossroads right now.  I know that it's my prerogative to sort the feelings as I choose.  I know that what's right for me is really what's right.  But when the attitude and feelings of others could possibly be affected by my sorting....I have to start caring again.  I have to start thinking along the lines of right and wrong. If you know me, you know that I can't be the snooty widow that does what she wants just because life slapped me in the face one time.  There are things to consider.

I'm still wearing the ring, and probably always will.  It's a thing; a beautiful thing. But its scratches don't actually cause it any pain.  My attitude has to be different toward life and real feelings that actually affect real people.  If I could, I would hide everyone's feelings to protect them, just as the silver was hidden from the Yankees.  As it is, I will remember that right and wrong have re-surfaced for me and I will travel the road carefully, with the rules in mind.  After all......tomorrow is another day!

To my girls, on Valentine's Day

To my girls, on Valentine's day:

I know for a fact that you will probably consider the past nine months one of the worst periods of your life - for your entire life.  I can't know how much it hurts to lose your dad.  I still have mine. We share grief for your dad, you and me, but with different dynamics.  I am so proud of the way you have been able to carry on with school, hold jobs, make the more grown-up choice, and just keep on becoming the beautiful, strong, idealistic and witty women your dad would have wanted you to be.

Each Valentine's day, we got very special candy, didn't we?  He absolutely loved checking Consumer Reports for the best-rated chocolates and having them delivered to us, no matter where he was in the world at the time.  I can't be just like him, but I hope you have already gotten your Valentine goodies from me.  I know it's a 'sweetheart' day; but there are forever loves in the world, and you two are my forever loves.  I wanted to tell you and everyone else a few things I'm proud of - it's always a good thing to tell someone when you're proud, and not take it for granted that they know.  You are both amazing, and here are some of the reasons why:

I am proud of your perseverance.  Neither one of you skipped a beat in continuing school.  Some people would probably have taken some time for themselves, or cut back to make life a little easier for a while.  The two of you jumped right back in to classes and keep looking forward. You remind me a little of your dad when he was on a 'frenzy'.  Remember?  Those times he was so focused on a task that we sometimes didn't even get to eat until he got what he needed?  I tried to explain it to you when you were little, and I tried to inject in the explanation that it could be a very good trait.  I believe you picked some of that up along the way.

I am proud of your progress.  Is that the same thing as perseverance?  Not really.  You could have persevered with school and still not have moved forward.  But in your cases, you are making the necessary grades, you have the degree plans in the works, and you have both grown so much emotionally and intellectually that you have narrowed down and decided on a career path. You also both have worked since your dad has been gone - not everyone can do that and do well in school also. That's a huge challenge and I am so proud of the steps that both of you have made to start making all of your dreams come true.

I am proud of the patience you've had with me, and your protection toward me.  Although we sometimes approach tasks at very different speeds, you have let me do things in my own time and in my own way.  I believe that you have suppressed your own wishes for when certain things would get done, just to protect my emotional health and let me make sure that I am doing everything right for the three of us.  You also give me great advice, the kind of advice we give in our family. (Like.."tell them the car turns into a superhero at night and any marks are battle scars"....) And I'm sure there's been a time or two that you just made excuses for me and told someone to just leave me alone. ("I'm going out for a while, Mom, but if you need me, you call...I'll come right home.")

Most of all, I am proud of your passion for life, no matter what.  Your dad would be proud, too.  Whenever one of you went through a 'quiet phase', it worried him.  He wanted you involved - (even if it meant him sitting through musicals and dance recitals) and he wanted you to set goals and work hard to reach them, just as he did.  He wanted you to think your own thoughts, not be a 'sheep', and he wanted you to be well-versed enough in your beliefs to intelligently challenge those with whom you do not agree. I want that, too, but make sure you do it in a nice way! (Although you should let me know when you reach the McCarty milestone of being banned from a forum for your opinions.  I'll take his place and celebrate with you.) You are still able to laugh and cry, as well as live your life to the fullest, which you know your dad totally believed in.

I hope one day you can love someone as much as a parent loves a child.  There is no end to that love. It exists in the parent for no other reason than the fact that you, the child, exist. But there's an added bonus:  When I look at you, listen to you, and watch you live life, I see your dad.  It reminds me that even though he's gone, so much of him will live on through the two of you. I love you, Mallory and Maddy, with all my being. Forever.

Briefcases and Tiffany hearts 2/8/14

There were these guys when I was in fifth or sixth grade.  They were smart.  They played kickball, did a little music, but mostly they were the smart guys.  Then all of the sudden, they all started carrying briefcases to school.  A briefcase - like a Wall Street broker or something.  The rest of us just giggled a bit and went back to band, swim team, staking out our favorite equipment on the playground (do the words 'witch's hat' spark a memory, anyone?) and yes - we all played massive kickball tournaments, even briefcase guys.  When the briefcases started their run, I was carrying a clarinet, some played sports, some loved makeup, clothes and shoes, others were under the hood of a car before they could drive.  It's as if, somewhere around ten or eleven years old, a great imaginary dividing ceremony takes place and sends us to our group.

If you're a reader, you are also recognizing this idea from some great fiction out there. "Divergent", the "Harry Potter" series, many others play on this theme, that you all of the sudden 'grow up' and 'find your group' at that age.  The thing is, it's an eternal theme because it rings true in real life.  I watch it happen with the darlings I teach, year after year.  In fourth grade, they start 'hanging around' the kids that are most like them, instead of just anyone.  Girls who take dance outside of school stick together, etc.  And if you think I'm giving an idyllic, fairy-tale view of this natural separation, I will throw this out there:  I referee more mean comments, hurt feelings and actual tears simply because very young friends are growing apart and they don't have the emotional maturity to realize it's okay, you can miss that friend, you can make an effort to still be friends, or you can remain acquaintances.  They don't know. It's their first bump in the road of all their friendships and relationships to come.  By fifth grade, the groups set themselves. I give them a talk each year about moving on to middle school and finding their 'group'.  I love when they come back to me and visit, and band (or choir, or orchestra, or theater...or even football or art) is their whole life, all their friends are from that group and their grades are fantastic and they are headed for college.

I've been living the very adult version of  'finding my group' for the past nine months. Before nine months ago today, I didn't belong to any group that had experienced tragic loss.  Loss of grandparents, older aunts and uncles, yes.  But I had lost no parents, siblings, or children.  I didn't have that frame of reference before May 8th.  I started thinking this way because I saw an image that made me reflect on the changes that take place long after you find your first 'group'.

Tiffany hearts?  Yes, they made me think.  I wore these earrings on Thursday and Friday.  Invariably, every time I looked in the mirror, one heart was upside down.  I fixed it, tightened the back, but to no avail.  Of course, the earrings being hearts, it made me think - my heart has felt upside-down lately. It just jumped out at me that we always need to find our group.  Life changes, and life changes us.  I'm still the person I was before, but with a new addition to my personality.  And it makes me gravitate toward certain people.  I have been able to have better heart-to-heart conversations with friends that have experienced loss than with others lately.  I'm not saying "I'm not your friend anymore" to anyone.  I'm simply feeling more of a kinship with those that always have their 'event' in the front of their minds, just as I do.

The upside-down heart brought that home to me.  A right-side-up heart looks settled, closed, happy, and states 'don't change me'!  An upside-down heart is one that has been turned over and is now looking to find its way back.  Nothing is settled anymore. That is how my earrings taught me a little something about myself this week. Most of me is settled.  But there's a part that's been moving toward a bit of a different group.  And that's okay.  I think every heart should have an upside-down section.  It keeps us from turning inward and never experiencing new things.

The briefcase guys didn't keep carrying briefcases into high school.  The band kids learned to make friends with the athletes.  Finding your group is an ongoing process, because life is an ongoing journey. When you look in the mirror and find out that part of your heart is upside-down at the moment, be happy that in spite of all, you're not too set in your ways to change just a bit.  Because the road twists and turns and you'll be left behind if you don't.

Why the Daffodil? 2/1/14

Why the daffodil? You know the daffodil in my profile picture?  They are one of my favorite flowers.  When we lived in England, we had this sprawling house on an enormous yard with trees, landscaping, grapevines, a full row of apple and pear trees.......and daffodil bulbs hidden all under the grass of the front yard.  Every year, when the grey skies would finally lift a bit and spring would give us a warm day or two, my front 'garden' was a sea of yellow daffodils.  I had never had them in any of my yards or gardens before that, so I was thrilled at their beauty and the ease with which the re-appeared every year.

Last year, I bought a bag of daffodil bulbs on a whim at Home Depot.  I had cleaned some pesky plants from around one of my pine trees in the back yard, leaving a small bed that was begging for some prettiness. The bag sat on the back porch for a few weeks until I finally got up and dug holes to plant them.  I surrounded my tree with daffodil bulbs, then had enough left over to line the edge of the flower bed up front. I crossed my fingers for them and forgot about them.

Well, I didn't totally forget.  I went out back to the tree every few days, looking for signs of life from underground. Sure enough, little green blades eventually forced themselves through the hard-packed dirt, and grew a little taller day by day.  Eventually, one of the blades had a lump at the top - a lump destined to be a flower.  In the time between planting those bulbs and seeing the possibility of a flower, we had some freezing weather, some very warm weather, stretches of no rain, suddenly too much rain - everything but snow and ice.  Not last year.  The leaves didn't care.  They grew taller and taller, until I predicted: "My daffodils will bloom by Easter, I can tell!"  I was very excited.  Bloom they did, and I took a little time out for a photo session.  The flower in the picture is indeed one of  MY daffodils.  I only brought a few inside to a vase.  I left them to put a smile on the yard.  It wasn't a sea, but it was a happy spot.  By the time they were gone, so was Scott.

The brown leaves wither away and you forget the bulbs are under the dirt.  They've been under there for almost a year, waiting, preparing, letting nature guide them as to when those leaves should start their journey again.  They've endured extreme heat, flooding rains, freezing temperatures, sleet, and numerous critters, domesticated and not.  They just know they are supposed to stay right there underground until nature says rebirth must happen.

The experience of the daffodil bulb (MY daffodils) is similar to the walk of grief.  I have endured paperwork, meetings, making huge decisions, breaking down, working in spite of all, and trying to be wise for a future that could maybe ever be happy again.  I'm getting there.  It's as natural as the daffodil leaves that I laugh a little more again.  That lady carrying five copies of a court document out of Office Depot?  That was me.  It's moving along as nature intended that probate court is finished and I must fill out more applications, file more paperwork....but it's leading somewhere.  About a week ago, I noticed the tips of the leaves peeking out of the ground.  The flowers will be back this year.  Nature has said "it's time", even though there was a freeze last week and another predicted for next week.  They know how to time it.  And they are strong.  They are hardy.  A beautiful flower that spreads joy for a season, then bends its head to go away and prepare to be reborn the next year.......that is "why the daffodil".