Posts tagged ‘mother’

Remembering Mom

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A memorial service to honor our deceased family and friends was held last week. I often think of my mom, but never with such a sustained respect as last week. Lighting a memorial candle and watching the wick spring to life with fire made me think of HER life, and all the wonderful things she had done, always with a smile on her face and never with a complaint. Tears slid down my cheeks and were wiped away silently, inconspicuously. How is it that after all of these years her memory can still cause such emotion?

In her honor, I decided to treat myself to a day at the mall. I hadn’t been in a while because, unlike when I was younger and had children to buy for, my own wardrobe was overflowing with clothes and I had nothing to shop for. Or so I thought.

Entering the mall, decorated for Christmas with festive frills and lights, the atmosphere welcomed me, and I felt a spring in my step and cheer in my heart, just as if my mom were by my side as in “olden times.” I meandered into Macy’s, being the first store I came to, looking for the magnificent bargains like mom and I did. We had a knack for finding something spectacular at a deeply discounted price, and this trip was no different. Humming to myself as I browsed the numerous sales rack, my radar led me to the 50% off the 50% off discounted price. My kind of sale! There were many awesome clothes from which to choose, and soon I was purchasing a blue and green sweater for only $4.49. Pleased with my purchase, (something comfy to wear in the winter,) I smiled brightly leaving the store, feeling like the Cheshire Cat.

It was after noon and my stomach led me to the food court. I couldn’t help but buy myself some General Tsao’s chicken, our favorite meal. The ironic part was, my mother always told me she would “have just a little bit of mine” instead of getting her own order. I resented this at the time because I would always walk away unsatiated. Then, I sneakily learned to order double the chicken so she could still share my order without realizing more chicken had been added. She was happy because she wanted to be frugal for lunch and not spend any money, and I was happy because she was happy! On this date in the mall, it made me a little sad that I didn’t need to order extra chicken, but I did think of her as I wolfed down the meal, smiling between bites in her memory.

I walked by Bath and Body Works, a store into which I had to drag her. According to her morals, a bar of soap was the best thing to wash with, so why waste money on frivolities? It was difficult to convince her that the Sweet Pea or Vanilla Cinnamon scents were relaxing for me, and I would feel so much sweeter after using them in the bath. So, I only took her in when I had a coupon and there was a deeply discount sale. Trying to get her to take a bottle to try, she always gave it back and said she was fine, thank you, soap did the job just as well. On this date, I purchased several new holiday body washes, and I didn’t even have a coupon!

Walking slowly by the stores window-shopping, the tinkling of the piano keys was heard from the middle of the mall. Coincidentally, the pianist was playing live music, and I sat to listen. If my mom had been with me, she would have swayed to the music, and sung the words to the old songs. Often, she would got up and dance enthusiastically. Most children may have been mortified if their parent did that, but my mom was not just ANY parent, she was special in so many ways. She exuded joy, and if that joy inspired her to get up and dance, then so be it. It was that joy that inspired my life so dramatically, and continues to let me appreciate seeing the sunbeams streaming brightly through the clouds and the love when my grandchildren come running to me for a kiss and a hug. It is the kind of joy that makes your heart tingly and the sides of your mouth turn into a smile. I was so fortunate to have had her inspiration.

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To read about our hilarious and warm relationship, or to read about the success of my 5 children with disabilities, please purchase my book, The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane

 

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Inconsiderate Moi

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Sometimes people are not thoughtful!  I am embarrassed to say that this category fits me.  Just in the past week, several mishaps have occurred which have demonstrated that my mind is just not aware of my surroundings all the time. Thoughts of life, work, and children, or just daydreams about what else I would love to be doing, (lounging on a beach in Florida, or getting a massage), have interfered with my ability to do 2 things at once.  That is, think while paying full attention to what is going on around me.

One day last week I joyfully went into the bakery to purchase Marie’s graduation cake.  Being thrilled with the way it came out, I felt lighter than air and, with a whiff of happiness, I opened the door to the bakery and let it close behind me, smacking an elderly woman with a huge tray of cookies, almost knocking her and the cookies over. Of course, I apologized immediately, but with the cake in my hand, I couldn’t offer much besides “I’m so sorry.”

Another morning, driving near the junior high school, my line of traffic was stopped so students could cross the street in the crosswalk. There were many students, and I was anxious that I would be late for work. With that single thought rattling in my brain, as soon as the students were safely across the street, my car lunged forward.  As I drove by, the crossing guard, who had not yet fully returned to the sidewalk on the other side or officially let traffic “go”, looked at me with anger and hatred.  Little ole me!  Hated by a crossing guard.  I’m so sorry, it was a mistake!

Then there was the time at the mall that Marie and I had to stop in our tracks so I could focus on what she was signing. There is the joke about a person who can’t walk and talk at the same time. For me it is I can’t walk and “listen”, (i.e. pay attention to interpret her signing) at the same time. This caused much annoyance from those behind us who were walking at the same rate of speed as we were with the purpose of getting somewhere. When we stopped suddenly, the pedestrian flow of traffic stopped, resulting in people bumping into each other, surely NOT a pleasant experience for them. Sorry gals and fellas, didn’t mean to do it. I tried to get Marie to wait to talk until we were somewhere less crowded, but she is a teenager and she has ADHD, so there wasn’t much hope for that.

The worst thing I did was on that rainy day last week when my car was whizzing (speed limit wise) down Warwick Avenue. Being careful to stay in my lane, my front tire hit a puddle and a deluge of water sprung into the air…and landed on a person who was standing at a bus stop, drenching them from head to toe. I was mortified, and too shocked to know what I should have done.  If that person is reading this, I am SOOOOOO sorry!

The only safe solution is for me to stop thinking unless I am safely seated and nothing is expected of me.  At all other times, my eyes will be on the environment, scanning for possible areas of disaster I could cause.

 

A Mom is Forever

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    Saturday, I was perusing the bargains at JC Penney’s, picking out a deeply discounted cute grey sweater to ward off the cold while waiting for the spring that I know is supposed to arrive any day now.

     While waiting in the long line, which moved incredibly quickly, I admired the clothes on the counter ready to be purchased. They were in pastel colors, the colors that are supposed to look best on me according to my “color chart”. Of course, I never buy the appropriately colored clothes because the deep discount bargain rack is my go-to shopping place, where pristine, professional looking, pastel colored items are rarely hidden. Thus my wardrobe consists of the browns, the blacks and the grays.

     On the cashier’s counter lay two different colors of pants, a light pastel peach and a business-looking tan. The peach colored sweater had three quarter length sleeves and pearl buttons on the neck and down the front. A matching, sophisticated shirt, obviously of wrinkle-free material had a crisp collar and matching pearl buttons on the sleeve. The clothes screamed success and professionalism, and were obviously not from the bargain rack.

     The woman for whom the clothes were being purchased was about my age, with hair dyed a honey blonde and a middle aged waist holding up a pair of jeans. What struck me most was her relationship with the woman standing next to her. The two of them were giggling conspiratorially, pointing at the clothes with a look of accomplishment, arms gently around each other’s waist. The other woman was much older, with similarly colored hair and body frame. They kissed lightly, among their smiles, and as they walked away with the precious bagged items, they seemed to bounce on air. It struck me that it was a daughter and her mother, with the mother buying her daughter some clothes for her work. As old as the first woman was, her mom still wanted to care for her and buy her the perfect clothes. It was probably a special occasion and they had the pleasure of shopping together to purchase the perfect gift, a joyful adventure for both mom and daughter.

     This scene ignited such an emotional flash back for me that I almost cried out. That could have been my mother and me if she was still alive. For my birthday, she would always take me shopping to buy two wonderful outfits that I would not have been able to afford otherwise. They would be in my perfect colors, and we wouldn’t care if they were on sale or not. We would go out to lunch at local restaurant and share a piece of cheesecake for dessert. It would be a special mother/daughter day, where my mom, eventually in a wheelchair as she aged, would still be my mom, maternally caring for my needs, an emotionally bonding experience for both of us.

     My mom passed away a few years ago. My heart is conflicted with joyous memories along with a deep sadness that hurts my heart. I sit here typing this with tears in my eyes, trying not to let them fall. Mother’s Day this year was especially meaningful. Only now, with her permanent etching upon my soul, do I really appreciate the things she did for me. I wish I could tell her I love her one more time…

 

Please consider purchasing my book; The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane.

And I was WORRIED about My Daughter’s First Date; Silly, Silly Me!

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Marie is a teenager who has had her eye on both boys and girls for a possible boyfriend or girlfriend for several years, with no actual luck finding anyone. We had “the” talk a while ago when she asked me if she should like boys or girls. Knowing her proclivity to try to dress like a boy due to her early childhood abuse, I told her that whether she had a boyfriend or a girlfriend would depend on who she wanted to have sex with when she was an adult. SEX? She looked at me in astonishment! She didn’t ever want to have sex with anyone!!!

Even though she vehemently denied ever wanting to get intimate with anyone, I still had a knot in the pit of my stomach when she went off on her first date with a guy she knew from a previous school. She wore her bright orange Kool-Aid guy t-shirt, which I had suggested she change. (She is quite stout, and actually looked like the Kool-Aid guy in that shirt!) She felt she looked fine, taking no interest in looking good for Carl. When he came to pick her up, they easily chatted in sign language, having not seen each other for about 3 years. She told me they were going out to dinner and I asked if she needed any money. She looked at me incredulous. Of COURSE she didn’t need money, Carl was going to pay! I asked them what time they would be home. They looked at each other quizzically and Marie finally signed “11”. And off they went.

Being the opposite of a night owl, I plopped myself on the couch in the living room with lots of caffeinated Diet Coke to keep me awake. Because I don’t have a lot of free time to watch tv, it was nice to enjoy Netflix and The House of Cards. After only an episode and a half, home came Marie! I asked her if she had a good time on her first date. She was non-committal. She said she enjoyed eating dinner and talking to him, but they didn’t know what to do after that and it became boring, so she came home. That’s my girl, Marie!!!!

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The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane
Authored by Linda Petersen
The link to the book:
https://www.createspace.com/5321986?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026

A Flash Back of the Good Kind

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My kiddos, Marie and Angel, both have flashbacks to their early childhood abuse. From out of no where, a scent might set Angel off, or a man somewhat resembling a perpetrator might set Marie off, and they are both deep in the world of bad thoughts. I know it can happen, but never gave it much thought until today. When I had a flashback that set me off on a nostalgic ride of good thoughts.

I was pursuing the bargains at JC Penney’s, picking out a cute grey sweater to ward off the cold while waiting for the spring that I know is supposed to arrive any day now. Soon. When the mountains of snow melt… But for now I wear sweaters.

While waiting in line, I admired the clothes on the counter ready to be purchased. They were a blouse and sweater in pastel colors, the colors that are supposed to look best on me according to my “color chart”. (Of course I never find the appropriate color clothes because I only buy clothes deeply discounted; the browns, the blacks and the greys.) On the cashier’s counter lay two different colors of beige pants, a light pastel peach colored sweater with pearl buttons on the neck and three quarter length sleeves, and a light pink, sophisticated shirt, wrinkle-less with a stiff collar. The clothes screamed success and professionalism.

Looking at the woman buying them, I noticed she was about my age, with hair dyed a honey blonde and a middle aged waist holding up a pair of jeans. What struck me most was her relationship with the woman she was with. The two of them were giggling conspiratorially, pointing at the clothes with a look of accomplishment. Almost giddy. The other woman was much older, in her 80’s, with similarly colored hair and body frame. They kissed lightly, among their smiles, and as they walked away with the bagged items, the first woman hugged the other and said, “Thanks!” It struck me that it was a daughter and her mother, and the mother was buying her daughter some clothes for her work. As old as the first woman was, her mom still wanted to care for her and to buy her the perfect clothes, probably for a special occasion, like her birthday. Today.

This scene ignited such an emotional flash back for me that I almost cried out. That could have been me and my mother if she was still alive. For my birthday, she would always take me shopping to buy two wonderful outfits that I would not have been able to afford otherwise. They would be in my perfect colors, and we wouldn’t care if they were on sale or not. Even as she aged and entered a nursing home, I’d still bring her out in her wheelchair to shop. I was her child and she was my mother, caring for me and making me happy. She was especially conscientious to remember my birthday, when her mothering was still acceptable.

My heart is still happy/sad after seeing the women in JC Penney’s, and I sit here typing this with tears in my eyes, trying not to let them fall. Today is especially meaningful for me. Today is my birthday. And I did not get any new clothes….

Buy Me Something That Tickles Me

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Lately, some of the things that I say reflect things my mom said decades ago. I met a woman the other day who was cheerful and bouncy, with a large white flower in her bright, red hair and a wide smile. I immediately told my son that she looked like a hot ticket. He looked at me like I was crazy. “She’s a WHAT?” he asked.

And so it is with the items on my Christmas list that I gave my teenage and young adult children, most of whom are economically disadvantaged, (ie poor, broke, don’t have a pot to piss in). I asked them to get me something that tickles me. For those unfamiliar with this description, what I am asking them to buy me is something that makes me giggle inside. “Ahhhhh”, you think, “There can’t be too many items that do so that are inexpensive and suitable to give as a Christmas gift.” But you would be wrong.

Things that tickle me:
**Socks with far out designs. (I work with young children, usually on the floor with my shoes off. While my dress has to be “casual business”, my feet can be free and easy.)

**Jelly Bellies, especially popcorn and licorice flavors. (I would be on cloud 9 eating them, one by one, savoring the flavor.)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it would be so awesome if one of my children would buy me a body wash from Bath and Body works, for my nightly bubble baths. (Sweet Pea is my favorite scent!)

I would be made in the shade if I were gifted with a nice, strong pen, preferably with purple or green ink.

A new mug with a sentimental slaying would be fab. (I LOVE to drink my tea.)

A gnarly new wallet would be welcomed, (one with extra room for pictures of all my kiddos!)

Bubble gum flavored lip gloss, with a hint of pink coloring, would help me look like a fox. (even if only around my mouth area…for the first five minutes…before I lick it off…,)

So, you can see, I would be tickled by a variety of inexpensive items that my kiddos could buy me for Christmas. In fact, anything that they buy for me with love will be copasetic. It would bum me out if they spent a lot of money on me, because it really IS the thought that counts!

As I crash on Christmas eve and go to sleep, I know opening my presents on Christmas morn will be a gas, yet won’t cost my children an arm and a leg.

Here’s to hoping your children get to keep their appendages also!

If the Washing Machine Eats the Socks, What Eats the Silver Ware?

We all know the adage that the washing machine eats socks, which is why they never come out in pairs.  I long ago gave up trying to match them, just buying plain black socks for the boys and hoping they kind of match.  Marie gets to feel in fashion because all of her socks are multi-colored with frogs, kisses, stripes and cats.  If she can get one stripe from one sock to match the color on the cat, then she has found a fashionable match!

My concern is our silverware.  When we first had kids, we started out with a full Faber ware set.  As we saw pieces disappear one by one, we had to replace the set several times.  (We now have 72 knives and six spoons left.)  We do not know where the silverware goes.  As far as we are concerned, we eat with it, put it  in the sink, in the dishwasher to be washed and then back in the silverware drawer.  It is not rocket science.  It IS, however, way too complicated of a system to work in our house.  For some reason, our silverware disappears!  One would assume that the washing machine/sock theory would work for the dishwasher and disappearing silverware, but, alas, that is not the answer.

Theory #1 is that ours is the “HOUSE OF THE DISAPPEARING SILVERWARE”, oooooooooh!  We sometimes stay awake at night imagining the silverware whisking away into thin air with a whoooosh here and a whooosh there, kind of like witchcraft.  (In the interest of full disclosure, my husband is not bothered by this and he sleeps soundly…)  In the morning, half of the forks are gone!

Theory #2 is that, somehow, the children are involved.  Maybe they take a paper plate of left overs to their bedrooms and the silverware gets thrown away with the disposable dish. I shudder to think of this dirty, tragic end to our fine and selfless silverware. They died in the line of duty, never again seeing the light of day…

Whatever the reason, and whatever the consequences we have put upon our children for not taking care of the silverware, it continues to vanish for no apparent reason. Long ago we gave up our concept that the ideal home has good silverware with which to feed our perfect little family. Currently, spoons and forks from the Dollar Store fill our silverware drawer.  The frustration of having to constantly replace good silverware is gone.  With that stress no longer on my shoulders, the result is a cheaper, flimsier fork.  Eating steak, which would potentially bend our new utensils, it out of the question. It doesn’t matter anyway…hamburger is about all we can afford.  We are so lucky that our budget matches our utensil selection!  Our hospitality skills are also hampered by the antics of our kiddos, so we are also lucky that no one in their right mind would come to our house for dinner, thus sampling our pittance silverware.  Isn’t it great how life does have a way of turning out perfectly?  We are so lucky!

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Link to my book

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Link to the Readers Digest review of my book:  http://www.rd.com/recommends/what-to-read-after-a-hurricane/

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