65!

As I was sewing up the dog's bed the other night the words, "whip-stitch", kept repeating in my mind.  I never learned to sew, really.  I don't have the patience or the precision- I like to think that sewing is too confining for my free spirit. 
But that word, whip-stitch kept circling,
   it had to come from somewhere. 
My mind wandered to my mom, she must have planted that word in my memory somehow.  Was it when she sewed, then ripped out every stitch, and re-sewed my 4th grade Halloween costume?  I was Gizmo the Gremlin that year.  It was the first year in a new school and having the perfect, most elaborate costume was absurdly important to me.  I remember hovering at my grandmother's table, just at my mom's elbow, badgering her about when it would be done.  She had to have been frustrated, with me, with the sewing, with the rush at the 11th hour. 
But...
she made sure it was perfect. 
she made sure it was elaborate. 
she made sure I felt special.

I liked spending time with my mom growing up, even if I didn't always  catch on to her hobbies like she had hoped.  She worked hard, so the time we had was precious.  I remember so many things about her likes, her dislikes, her words, her indulgences, her habits...
   like: ice in her coffee; combat boots; always Coke-never Pepsi- in a bottle, or a glass, or with a straw-but never from a can; telephone poles; telephone calls; canning & sweet-hot mustard & freezer jam; peonies; Mod Podge & wreaths & ceramics & cute hanging dishtowels; socks of every color and for every holiday; anything at the checkout counter that says new...

But what the memories I cherish, the ones that I try to hold onto for my own children are...
   things like: My Three Sons & Bewitched at 3 am; Brownies; stepping up for Cheer-Boosters when the cheerleaders were asked to pay their own way; really listening to me when I cornered you (even in the bathroom); making tapioca pudding that takes until midnight; being a 6th grade camp chaperone; phone calls at 7 am when I was in college (much to my roommates chagrin); she would stay up late waiting for me to come home, even when I was just next door...

We don't always agree on politics.  We sometimes disagree on wardrobe.  There has been a time or two when we disagree about hairstyles.  But I know when I need her, she is there. 

I hope this 65th year brings my mom as many special memories as she gives me.  Happy Birthday MOM!!!

sage advice

never tell a woman to calm down

&

respect a little bitty kitty when they have great big claws

up and down

We started off up the hill.  

No sweat.  It is a hill that for some reason we here in Tri-cities call a mountain. 

Badger Mountain to be exact. 

Mountain- Pshhhh.

At least that is what I thought going into it.

Wonderful friends have said it is no big thing to climb this hill. 

We are up for it.  We are a walk-it-out kind of family.  Piece of cake right?

Ah, yeah- not so much. 

Or maybe that is just it, too many pieces of cake.

Some of us are more motivated than others.

Some of us are in much better shape than others too.

One of us claims he stores 'potential energy' in his thumbs while playing video games 

and that is why he is able to out hike the rest of us.

He even waited patiently for the rest of us to catch up.

More than once.

One of us complained the ENTIRE climb up.  She told us we ruined her day.  She told us in an exasperated tone that she couldn't BELIEVE that we didn't know that THIS mountain scares her to death.  Just the day before we had a very touching conversation about fears.  The kind that makes my heart well up with motherly tenderness.  She told me then that when ever either of us is scared, all we had to do was hold each other's hand and every thing would be alright. Sweet right?  Sweet and rational.  

I tried to remind her of this conversation by asking her, "Nadia my sweet, what do we do when we are scared?" 

 She not-so-quietly responded, "We TERRORIZE them.  Obviously! Because that's what you are doing to ME!!!" 

Terrorize?  Please child! 

My thighs burned. 

My glutes screamed. 

My arm felt like a noodle from half dragging her up the hill.

But I stifled my complaints.  

Instead I used *subtle* gestures to convey my agony to Tony. Is it because I am a good mom? 

I take the high road?  I want to set a good example for her?  

No that wasn't it.

I could only mangage a zip-it gesture because words couldn't squeeze past my gasps for oxygen. 

Amazingly enough her terror was wiped away once she reached the top. 

All of the normal Nadia-joy returned.

The trip down was complaint-free.

Even Margo made a friend. 

On a related note, I am left with a wee question...

How is it that Tony, who walked twice as much as me because of his circling with Margo (another story for another time) is left completely uneffected by the climb?  He was down-right chipper all the way up and all the way down.  I am not trying to argue who works harder, but honestly, Tony sits at a desk all day.  Most of the time with his shoes kicked off and slouched in his chair.  I am on my feet ALL stinkin day.  After this hike, I was wiped.  I lounged on the couch; he dug a trench and cleaned out the birds' make-shift nests.  Today, my tush complains every time I change positions and don't get me started on sitting down or getting back up again.  Much love to our Grandma Sue, but I am hobbeling around like her 80-some year old body on a bad hip.  It didn't phase him. 
Maybe he stores energy in his cheeky-cheeks like Aidan does his thumbs? 

life is better when...

you get to see that your daughter has friends like these...

you get snuggles like this...

there are a 100 or more pseudo-synchranized 1st graders with hearts a-plenty like these...

when you get cheesy grins like these...

and when you have a Margo like her.

32 & 33

Sanguine Sara...happy birthday my dear friend.  I recently told you I keep you around because you think I am funny.  While that is a definate perk, the truth is, I keep you around because you are uplifting, either through your humor (humor that is possibly only matched by Tony in my book), or by your insightful questioning that always leaves me feeling like I have thought myself through a mindful 5K.  I hope your 32nd year brings you answered prayers and a joy akin to what you bring to our lives.

and...

Luminous Monique...a very happy birthday to you.  I wish I could be there to help you celebrate your birthday!  While I do love the phone calls and occasional facebook connection, I so miss the beautiful light that you shine on everyone around you.  May all of your birthday wishes be granted and may you be spoiled with all of the kindness that you usually dole out. 

who wouldn't LOVE this!

She told us about this and WOW, what a giveaway!  If you love Seattle then you really should check this out.  And really, who doesn't love Seattle?

about Tuesday

Today is not Tuesday of course.
Today is Thursday.
Thursday is the day before Friday.
I am reminded of this each and every Thursday.
Friday is daddy day.
This Friday is special because it is pajama day AND daddy day AND figures with fathers day!

But this is about Tuesday, not Thursday or Friday.

On Tuesday Aidan competed in the Pine Wood Rocket Derby for his pack.  He won his first three heats with the banana yellow and red popscicle looking rocket.  He placed third overall. 
It was chaos.  It was fun- 8 year old boy, running, squealing, cheerful, sugared chaos, as told by Tony.

On Tuesday Nadia and I went to the first Chiawana-Pasco Basketball game.  She danced to the Marching Band.  She cheered for the points scored.  She asked me questions.  She watched the cheerleaders with indifference.  She wanted popcorn and decided that the neck and neck intensity wasn't worth wasting away over.  We gave up our seats to one of the ten or so families standing on the stairs, got our popcorn and headed home.  But not before the Riverhawks chanted "This is OUR house" as CHS finished in the lead. 

All of this Tuesday-ness and neither Tony nor I had the camera.  Phumph!