First words spoken by my Mum to me in years...
Thank you, I love you too.

A Mother Remembered

My Mum is in town. Not Mission Mary, but Bio Betty, and her husband, Stan. I have known Stan since I was about 15 months old. I really can't remember a time without him in my life. Sort of . Most of my memories of either Betty or Stan are somewhat disjointed and fragmented. I can't really be certain about that day in pool was the same day that we went The African Lion Safari. When you are a wee kid and you miss your Mum, the days, hours and minutes seem endless. When you are apart the days feel like a run on sentence when you are missing her. Funny how our minds work when we are small. Mine still works differently then most, I think. I am convinced of it actually.

At any rate, my Mum is in town. I have not seen her in about 2 1/2 years, right around my 39 th birthday - or was it my 38th? Betty was in town for the funeral of her sister, my beloved Aunt Kaddy. We had numerous family get togethers - the funeral itself, the bbq's and reunions..I did try to speak with her once, but it just seemed to upset her more, so I refrained from any interaction with her - even when we sitting at a table for 5, with well, three other people.

Awkward.

I do love my Mum. She is a force of nature. Truly. Her temper is well known in the family, but what may not be equally as renowned is her compassion for her loved ones. Betty and Stan spend six solid weeks at the bedside of my Aunt Ferfie. Stan changed the bed sheets (and take my word for it when I say that my step father can change bed sheets faster, and better than any nurse of PSW out there). I also know that my Mum brews the best cuppa tea that you will ever drink. She can sew just about anything that she sets her mind too, using only the pattern in her minds eye. My girls have been the proud owners of many Halloween costumes made exclusively by Nannie. We still have fancy barbie doll quilts that were made by hand for a three year old KC. That three yr old is now almost 22 and can not bare to part with it.

I know just how she feels. I recently found a letter written to me by my Mum, in 1983. I was just 14 then, and I missed her tremendously.

It reads, in part:

Thanks for sending the geography test. You did really well. I'm so proud of you. Keep it up, dear. Also, keep sending your school work, I love to see it.

There it was, in black and blue, the words that I had longed to hear from her my whole life had been neatly tucked away in a hat box on my shelf..

but wait, there was more:

Thank God you are coming down in the summer. I miss you so much and you are so far away. I'm so lucky to have a daughter, especially one like you. We will spend so much time together. It will be just great. Now we both have something nice to look forward to.

and finally, the closing:

Well, Biddy girl, I must go now. Take care of yourself. Write soon. Don't forget, I love you.

Bye sweetheart,

Mum and Stan

26 years after than letter was written, we barely speak. My heart aches for her, and yet, she makes me so angry at times that I want to strangle her. The older that I get, the more I understand that so much of this is just growing pains. KC and I can fight like Tyson and Holyfield, but we have never missed a holiday, a birthday, Mothers Day...Kayla and I are more like cage fighters, and yet we still manage to laugh it off, even if does take a day or so.

I can't imagine my life without girls, all three of them. They drive me insane, make me laugh until I pee (I have been told that I am not alone in this, but I would never mention my Auntie by name). Sometimes I want to hide away from the world - and them, but the reality of it is - they are my world.

I wonder when Betty woke up and decided that she was moving on without me, and I wonder sometimes, if there is compass waiting to lead me to her.

My dear Uncle is gravely ill and on life support. Of course, Betty is here to help my Auntie, and I am sure that she will. I am equally as certain that she will ignore me as she always has.

This time, however, I will cling to the faded paper and the faded memories.

She may not recall the good times, but I do, and that may have to be enough.

Biddie Girl

Sadness is more or less like a head cold -

With patience, it passes.

Barbara Kingslover

The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.
- Mark Twain-

Keeping those words of wisdom in mind, I am (with the help of new found friends) adopting a family for Christmas. I`m not certain yet how I will do this..Shawn is still off of work, and we are struggling to pay our own bills and Christmas? I have no idea how I will pull that off for my family. My kids are older now though, and as long as we have a nice meal, I think that our Holiday will be complete. Not only that but my brother Steve is threatening to come see us early in the New Year.
Shawn had an appointment with a specialist on November 15 th - or so we thought. I should have checked the calendar earlier, because the 15 th was a Sunday.
Why were we confused? Maybe because the receptionist at the doctors office and Shawn`s doctor both told us that was the date. When we called last week to double check, we informed that the actual appointment was on the 2nd and we missed it.
Shawn had been waiting since April and this was more than just a disappointment. Initially, we were told that it would take another year to get in with the other doc. Thankfully, we will get in earlier, Feb 1 st. That still seems like a long way off but at least it isn`t a year away.
Instead of being pissed off, I am trying to focus on the positive - February is waay closer than November.
Life is alright otherwise. We are slowly getting settled, and I mean slowly. We still have boxes all over the main floor, and the shredded paper that we used for packing is multiplying. Seriously. It is everywhere. The dogs have it stuck to their paws and the cats seem to always have it hanging from their mouths. Lol.
The Christmas Village is still packed up. I am stumped about where to build it this year. I can`t even figure out where to put our tree. I have half a mind to put some of it Kayla and Jessica`s bathroom. Somehow, I doubt that they would approve.
Oh, I am thinking of doing some serious baking for the holidays too. I`ll let you
you know how that goes. Thank goodness we have the fire hall on speed dial.

Lest We Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead.

Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow ,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John Mc Crea

Just Another Boring Day

Things I found during the move -
stocking stuffers from last Christmas that were apparently very well hidden
a way cool box of 'stuff ' that once belonged to my Dad
letters that Jessica wrote to Shawn and I when she went away to camp in Kentucky
a (preumably) human bone, that we promptly turned over to the authorities to be forensically tested.
I wonder if this is reason behind the many strange going - ons at the Duke Street house?