Someday

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, life will be different. The memo pad on my refrigerator door will read, "Afternoon at hairdresser," or, "browse through art gallery," or, "start golf lessons"... instead of, "pediatrician at 2:00," or, "Cub Pack Meeting.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, the house will be free of graffiti. There will be no crayoned smiley faces on the walls, no names scrawled in furniture dust, no pictures fingered on steamy windows, and no initials etched in bars of soap.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, I'll get through a whole chapter of an engrossing book without being interrupted to sew a nose on a teddy bear, stop a toddler from eating the dog food, or rescue the cat from the toy box.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, I won't find brown apple cores under the beds, empty spindles on the toilet paper hanger, or fuzzy caterpillars in denim jeans. And I will be able to find a pencil in the desk drawer, a slice of leftover pie in the refrigerator, and the comics still in the center of the newspaper.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, I'll breeze right past the gumball machine in the supermarket without having to fumble for pennies; I'll stroll freely down each aisle without fear of inadvertently passing the candy or toy sections; and I'll choose cereal without considering what noise it makes, what prize it contains, or what color it comes in.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, I'll prepare Quiche Loraine, or Scallops Amandine, or just plain liver and onions, and no one will say, "Yuk! I wish we were having hot dogs!" or, "Jimmy's lucky, his Mom lets him eat chocolate bars for dinner,"; And we'll eat by candle light, with no one trying to roast their peas and carrots over the flame to "make them taste better," or arguing about who gets to blow out the candle when we're done.

SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, I'll get ready for my bath without first having to remove a fleet of boats, two rubber alligators, and a soggy tennis ball from the tub. I'll luxuriate in hot, steamy water and billows of bubbles for a whole hour, and no fists will pound on the door, no small voices will yell, "Hurry up, Mommy! I gotta go!

YES, SOMEDAY, when the kids are grown, life will be different.
They'll leave our nest, and the house will be Quiet... and calm... and empty... and lonely. And I won't like that at all! And then... I'll spend my time, not looking forward to SOMEDAY, but looking back at YESTERDAY.

Recognize all of the angels-in-training around you.

-- Author unknown

Messy Fingers

Sticky fingers ' tangled hair,
scattered crayons, everywhere.
Fancy artwork ' on the wall '
drawn by midgets ' three feet tall.
Tell me why ' and tell me how '
that was mine ' I want it NOW!
Fix my bike. Buy me gum.
If you have it, I want some.
Dirty faces, grass-stained knees,
learning words ' like pretty please.
Endless hugs & goofy wet kisses,
learning respect with 'Mr.' & 'Mrs.'
Scraped-up hands, from falling down.
Tender tugs - - on my night gown.
Need more paper ' for Santa's letter?
I wasn't so bad ' but I've been better.
Watching a movie ' again and again '
Mommy, please ' put the tape back in.
Messy fingers ' hair gone wild '
all in the life ' of a precious child !!

10 things your mother never told you

1. You often made her cry.
You made her cry when she found out that she was pregnant. She cried when she gave you food. She cried the first time she held you in her arms... She cried with joy. She cried because she was scared. She cried because of the countless nights without sleep. She still cries because she loves you so much. She cried when you cried.

2. She wanted the last cookie..
But when she saw you sitting there with your big eyes looking hungry she simply couldn't say no to you. Because whenever you were happy, she was happy.

3. It hurt...
It hurt when you pulled her hair. It hurt when you grabbed her skin with your long nails. It hurt when she breastfed you and you bit her. It hurt when you kicked and punched her. It hurt her so much when she was carrying you for 9 months and it hurt even more when she gave birth to you. But she never told you; because all she wanted was for you to be happy.

4. She was always afraid..
Right from the moment you were born, she did everything in her power to protect you. She became the woman who turned down her friends when they asked to hold you, because she felt that no one in the entire world could hold you as safe and secure as she could. Her heart skipped a beat when you took your first steps. She stayed up all night just to make sure you got home safe, and she woke you up in the morning so you could go to school. Every time you got hurt, she was the first one to help you.. And every time you were sick, she stayed home just to be with you and to make sure that you were okay. She tries her best to protect you and she always will..

5. She knows that she isn't perfect.
She is tough on herself.. She knows all her flaws, and sometimes she hates herself for it. But the toughest times are when it's about you.. She wanted to be the perfect mom, and not make any mistakes - but it is only human to fail which she did sometimes. She still tries to forgive herself for the mistakes she made.. She wishes, with all of her heart, that she could go back in time and fix these mistakes, but she cant. So be good to her, and let her know that she did her best and that you appreciate it..

6. She was watching you while you were sleeping.
At some point, she sat up all night just to watch your beautiful face while you were sleeping. When you couldn't fall asleep she sang a song for you. Even though she was tired herself she stayed up just to make sure you fell asleep. When you finally fell asleep, she stayed up for a little bit longer, just to look at you. She enjoyed the quietness and she watched how your face expressed more love than possible.

7. She carried you for way more than a few months...
She learned to carry you while cleaning. She learned to carry you while cooking, while she cleared the dinner table and while she washed the dishes. She carried you all the time, she even carried you while sleeping. Her arms were tired, her back hurt. Her body went through a lot of changes, just for you. But when you came into this world, she knew it was all worth it. When she held you in her arms, she was happy..

8. She was sad when you cried..
Nothing hurt as much as when you cried. There was no sight that hurt her more, than watching you run away with tears down your face.. She did everything to make you happy again, and when it didn't succeed, it hurt her.. 

9. You were always first!
She hadn't had any food all day. She didn't shower for the last two days. She only slept 5 hours the last two days. She always put you first. When she got home from work and mostly felt like sleeping, she always took care of you first. If you were hungry, she made you food. If you were sad, she talked with you. She did anything in her power to keep you happy, and she always chose you before herself..
10. She would do it all over again..

Being a mother is the toughest job in the world. You cry, it hurts, you try, you fail, you work and you learn. But you also feel more joy than you thought was possible. The joy you feel when you see your child happy beats everything. Despite all the pain, sleepless nights and the early mornings, she would still do it all over again, just for you..

Thank you mother... Thanks for everything you've done for me and our family. 
I love you so much.

A story to live by

Something to think about!

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue - wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."

He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment. Then he slammed the drawer shut, turned to me and said, "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."

I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.

I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them. I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event, such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing.

I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends. "Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

I'm not sure what my sister would've done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing - I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with - someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write - one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband often enough how much I truly love them.

I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.