My hubby and I went to our middle school open house for our 6th and 8th grader. It was interesting to see how the population of parents dwindle from elementary school to middle school. I do get it. By middle school we think they’re set in their paths and moving along. Given our “present to win” philosophy however, it was important for us to attend. My husband ran through my 6th graders schedule and I went through my 8th graders class schedule. Just ahead of my husband in line to speak to the homeroom teacher, a mom’s first sentence to the homeroom teacher went something like this:

“I’m (so and so’s mom). Would you mind telling me why my son had lunch detention on his BIRTHDAY the first week of school.”

Wow, there’s a way to introduce rapport with a teacher huh? Now a few things strike me. If you are approaching a teacher, in whom I hope you want to establish some authority for your child, why would you be so confrontational? Hello Mom…communicating is something the LISTENER does. If you shut her down up front you have a tremendous task ahead of you to get some sort of appropriate relationship established so you can build your child’s educational experience. Also, why in the world, if you are this upset, would you wait till the third week of school to approach the teacher (in a large group, inappropriate setting, surrounded by strangers)? Perhaps you thought the teacher would cloud over and say:

“Oh my gosh, your right. Little Johnny did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING and THAT’S why he got lunch detention.”

Couple of thoughts for a successful year:

-Teachers hold trump. Tell little Johnny that at school, the teacher is in charge just as much as you are in charge at home. Kids have to learn to follow the rules in order to shape their behaviors in a way that will lead them to a successful relationship with society. If you fight with the teacher about behavior you do not witness, then you’ve set your teacher and your child up for failure. A popular saying here is “if you believe half of what they say about me; I’ll believe half of what they say about you.”

-If there is an issue where you believe the process was mishandled, set up a private time/place for you to discuss the issue with the teacher as soon as possible. An immediate response is important especially if you are not in sync with the teacher’s approach. If, after a private meeting where you handle yourself in a professional way, holding onto your emotions (if it even goes there); if you still cannot wrap your mind around the teacher’s approach and depending on the severity of the issue, take a deep breath and step back; not too far back but let’s get past this and move on.

Now the teacher knows your “present to win” and will understand you are both are track with your approach. If you don’t think he or she gets that, tell her that!

“I want to be on track with you this year because I want it to be a great year for my son/daughter.”

Tell your child that while you may not competely understand the teacher’s approach, you do believe that she/he is in the school to educate your him and you will support the teacher in doing so. Then document the issue, date, time of the exchange, what your points were and what you understood the teacher’s points to be. If there is another issue of similar disagreement, you can step the process up (after once again discussing with the teacher) and move to an administrator if you are still dissatisfied and cannot come to an agreement with the teacher. Do this again, in a professional manner that will allow your child’s success be the center of the conversation

I received a call once reference my second son. Apparently he’d pushed a child down who was attacking one of his best friends. The assistance principal explained that regardless of the circumstances, a physical response couldn’t be accepted within the student body. I agreed that was the County’s policy, and my son accepted his punishment. At home we applauded Ben for his personal decision to not just stand by when a friend was being bullied. While Ben’s response didn’t fit in a system of zero tolerance (which I have issues with personally) his response WAS an example of a value we as a family support. I understood the AP’s bigger issue and we discussed it with Ben, but also made clear that we supported him (as did many of the folks at the school-but the school, of course, had to enforce the rules).

We all think our children are amazing; and, in fact, all of our children ARE amazing. But really, they all make mistakes. My kindergarten son lasted a whole 13 days before he was sent to the front office. Sweet Danny, sweet social, chatty, heartwarming Danny, recently came home with two yellows in a row. I trust the teacher (whom I’ve had for another child) and understood she was setting the standard for behavior for the year. I did however, exchange several emails with her for these rather minor transgressions to ensure Danny knew his teacher and I were on the same sheet of music.

“Danny” I told him, “don’t push the boundaries; set the standard.”

That is now our mantra as he gets on the bus. He’ll mess up again. I know and it’s okay. This isn’t a zero tolerance game. You learn by making mistakes and boy oh boy, I’d rather they learn them now when everyone around them wants them to succeed than when they are out there in the “real world”.

After having children involved in the public education system here in Stafford for a total of 18 school years spread over the four boys, I have never met an educator who wasn’t open to and almost pleading for a relationship with me that would foster my children’s success. You see it is also their success.

So be present to win, and learn to communicate in a way that moves an issue to resolution. No time for show boating, right fighting, or “showing that teacher”; blah, blah, blah. Be present in mind, in spirit and in physical being and you will win the prize! A healthy, educated child who will learn to make the most out of his situations in life.

Have a brilliant day!

d

Parenting Tip: Start your children with alarm clocks early in their education and make them responsible for their wake up time. It’s a small but important step toward them “growing away from you”. Don’t even TELL them about the snooze button.

We all get overwhelmed. We go to places that make us wonder what we’ve done to bring such challenges to our lives and question how in the world we’re supposed to cope when so many things are going wrong. The voice that tells you “Nothing personal…” is only slightly satisfying. I really believe you, and me, and everyone else, needs to look at the things in our lives that ARE working and that are, in fact, going better than we could ever have hoped for. When those things come to mind, we need to be just as diligent and ask:

“Why Me?”

When we are facing a challenge and friends rush to our sides to assist us:

“Why Me?”

When we suffer a serious accident, and somehow survive:

“Why Me?”

When we have a child who is struggling with school, and we have teachers who join with us to assist in moving them to success:

“Why Me?”

If we focus solely on the things that are challenges, we just don’t realize how each day brings positives we will miss when our head is down and shaking in dismay. We miss our opportunities to be thankful for today. I am not a Pollyanna, I have suffered many hardships in my life. As I’ve grown through them I’ve come to realize they were a gift that brought focus to the good times in my life. They provided clarity to my thoughts about “the routine” and sharp edges to what is really hard and what is just nonsense. They’ve helped me put into perspective how fleeting time really is.

Now when my sons, rush off the bus, jackets flying and backpacks bumping up and down; when they rush up the driveway in a full out race, laughing and fussing about cheating and head starts; all the time with their eyes smiling. I’ve come to understand that I am witness to the morning of their lives. That’s when I ask:

“Why Me?”

and that’s when I say thank you for all the moments that have shaped me and brought me to this place.

I do make a lot of mistakes.

I remember taking the boys on a journey to New Jersey when they were very young. Danny was still in a stroller, just an infant as I recall. We stopped to go into a break area and there was a pond at the top of an inclined walkway that lead to the rest stop entrance. The pond was filled with goldfish so I stopped with the boys to gaze into the water. Cool right?

As the boys and I leaned over the edge of the pond, I heard a woman call to me:

“Ma’am, your baby.”

I looked around and saw to my horror that the stroller with Danny in it was rolling down the hill, about to hit a curb and jump into the road of the parking area.

What do you do at that moment?

What exactly do you do?

I had three toddlers by a pool of water, and an infant in a stroller; a stroller that was rolling into a parking lot.

I couldn’t catch the stroller. It had gone too far and was picking up speed. In those seconds that passed, I held my breath.

Literally, I held my breath and stood there paralyzed for what seemed like hours.

As the stroller picked up speed and rolled toward the road, God,

(I don’t often mention God actually taking the time to touch my life. I know it’s happened, probably more than I realize, but I don’t think he’s there waiting for me to screw up as a parent and come to my rescue)

at that moment God, sent me two guardian angels. Almost like it was choreographed those two angels stepped from behind the building and stopped the stroller.

They stopped it. It was kind of like they were waiting for that moment to do something amazing and stopping my baby from going into the road was that amazing thing they were there to do.

It was like going from panic to a perfectly normal moment in the blink of an eye;

in the blink of an eye.

Okay moms, then what do you do?

You get the little guys off the pond’s edge and you run, YOU RUN, down the hill and try to manage your mixture of relief, joy, and embarrassment. Relief that a moment of impending disaster has changed to a moment filled with tears, thank you’s, and joy.

“Thank God” drips from your mouth and little beads of sweat finally have the nerve to show themselves and run down your face.

Then, you feel the embarrassment.

You just did something SO FREAKING STUPID that you can’t believe that you’ve actually been entrusted with these four incredible, little lives.

SO FREAKING STUPID when you realize that, ONCE AGAIN, you screwed up.

Embarrassment since people are now shaking their heads at you:

“That’s why there’s a break on it lady.”

“Why’d she have that many kids so close together anyway?”

“Can you believe that she didn’t move?”

When you start to breathe again, you take your little boys and walk into the rest area.

You take them into the women’s bathroom with you and go into a stall telling them to stand

“RIGHT THERE!”,

watching their little feet under the door stall.

Then you vomit. You vomit everything you’ve ever eaten in your life. You vomit until your sides are sore and your stomach is squeezed in spasms and then, you wipe the puke off your face, and the tears out of your eyes and you go back out to those four little boys and smile and ask:

“Who wants a milkshake?”

There you have it. My parenting guide:

“Imperfect Parenting”: How to do a million things wrong, and still raise pretty good kids.”

That’s what I’m good at.

Making lots of mistakes, messing up the experts advice,

(most of whom have NEVER been stay at home moms or dads, and actually dealt with the day in and day out parenting realities most of us face),

and still raising children who are grounded, responsible and pretty darn cool.

Last night I found a little girl wandering away from the middle school where I was picking up my son. She was cute as a button. She had long pig tails, dressed real sweet, and just walking like she owned the road ahead of her.

Problem was she was way out of anyone’s sight and I didn’t see anyone near her. I knew she’d slipped away.

I jumped out of my car, walked quickly to her, and talked to her.

“I can’t find my mommy.” She said. She was four.

We started walking back toward the school together and after I got a pretty good distance toward the door of the school I hear from way over at the baseball field:

“Skyler, Skyler; What are you doing?”

We looked and there was Skyler’s daddy running full speed toward us. I started walking toward him and Skyler and I did “knuckles”.

“Thank you SO MUCH.” her father called to me and little Miss Pigtails went running toward a very important discussion with her father.

“No problem dad.”

“I’ve been there.” I yelled as she closed the gap between her and her dad.

Phew, I thought.

Guardian Angels – 2

Imperfect Parenting – 2

As long as it stays a tie; we win.

“What happened?” Jake asked me.

“I don’t know hon. Maybe it fell from that tree and died.” I responded, squinting and looking up at the tree near us.

“Why didn’t his momma save him?” Jake asked.

“I’m sure she tried honey. I’m sure she did her best to keep him safe but sometimes things happen that we can’t control.” He still stood there staring.

“Come on, let’s go into the house.” I whispered.

“Mom,” Jake said, “I just want to stay here with him for a minute.”

“Okay hon. I’ll be inside.”

I went to the door and looked back at that little boy staring at the baby bird.

That little boy is almost 15 now. He left yesterday for a three day education camp at William and Mary College. I dropped him off for his trip and couldn’t stop myself from yelling to him as he gathered his bags to walk into the school:

“Make good choices; don’t do drugs; call me every night! Oh, oh, have fun!”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, swinging his suit bag over his shoulder. As he walked toward the school I kept mouthing advice trying my best to send it to him via “momma-kenisis”.

Is it just natural that I think about the worst possible things that can happen while he’s away? It takes everything I have to not sit and fret about him the entire time he’s gone. It was raining when they left on the bus. My imagination was reeling. I worried about them getting into an accident. I worried that a bus tire would blow, and in my mind I could “see” the bus careening to the side of the highway, making all sorts of violent stops and starts and ending as a smouldering ball of twisted metal. I worried he would try to be a hero and not just get himself out of danger if the bus was on fire.

Why do I do this to myself?

Despite my anxiety, I didn’t call him. Not calling him has taken about everything I have. I did let his brother text him way past phone text curfew. I debriefed Sam after every text, wanting to hear all the “boring” details about what was happening in that world I couldn’t see.

I guess all mothers go through this.

I really think, as a mom my primary focus should be teaching my children how to “grow away”. Giving them the tools they need to be successful without me; whether that’s ordering their own food when they’re three, doing their own laundry when they’re ten, or learning to think, really think about what’s important versus trivial crap like the latest electronic gadget, or “must have” sneakers.

Jake called me first thing this morning. He asked me the question he asks me first thing in the morning almost every day:

“What’re you making for supper tonight?”

I smiled into the phone and said “Cheeseburgers and french fries.”

“Stop it…” he moaned.

The fact that he wouldn’t be home for cheeseburgers and french fries was too much for him to bear.

“I’ll save you one for tomorrow.” I said.

“Thanks mom.” Jake replied. “I love you.” he added.

I hung up the phone knowing that my little bird missed his nest.

My little bird is growing into a very, very fine young man and this momma won’t stop worrying until he’s back home and safe in his bed.

I know as hard as it is;

it’s my job to teach him to fly.

It’s my job to help him leave the nest, spread his wings and take

those first few jumps.

I know it’s my job to be here for him; to steady him when he

stumbles.

It’s my job to make sure if he falls,

he has a soft place to land.

The Sound of a Warrior’s Passing

A bugle weeps its notes of pain; tears fall and soak the ground.
A flag is folded silently but all can hear the sound.

A life is slowly tucked away, with honor, tribute, grace.
Time will not dull the memory, the smile that graced his face.

A boy, a teen, a man and son, whose life has softly closed,
Is gently laid to rest today, God called him and he rose.

This soldier’s story, his sacrifice, forever in our hearts,
His legacy of service built and so his legend starts.

His story must now spread from here, his message wide and far;
That liberty and freedom can leave a painful scar.

Integrity and sacrifice are so much more than words.
Few live a life that demands so much, his story must be heard.

So take his story, spread his lesson, freedom’s cost is high.
Few have the courage of such a man, who’s story can not die.

This loss; too much, hurt screams from us, so very loud the sound.
A bugle weeps its’ notes of pain; tears fall and soak the ground.

1LT Robert W. Collins
He stood with warriors. He rests with God

To all our brave soldiers and their families…
Happy Memorial Day!

I wanted to tell you that I love you as much today as I did 22 years ago; but I can’t.

In truth, that love was an immature love, a conditional love, and I realize I didn’t know you. When I consider our love now, I am struck that I love you more than I did 22 years ago. I love all of your strengths I’ve come to know, and all of your weaknesses I’ve come to embrace. I love the man and not just the image of the two of us being together. For better or for worse is not the definition of moments in a marriage, it is the story of a marriage. The acceptance of “for better or for worse” as the way life unfolds and knowing you are there to face that life with me has given me an incredible sense of security.

I wanted to talk about all the people that have helped us as our lives have unfolded and how we wouldn’t be who we are without that help; but as we both know, I can’t.

I cannot thank everyone who helped us along the way because in truth we have done most of this ourselves.

Any success we have has been because we’ve planned for that success. We have certainly had strong mentors to provide good examples, but we’ve made the choices and struggled through the highs and lows to get to this point in our lives on our own. I’m proud of that and don’t think I’d want it any other way.

I wanted to talk about everything I cannot wait to do with you when the children are gone and it is just you and me, but I can’t.

I don’t look forward to our children being gone. We have a life and a love that allows us to embrace all the things we want to do as a couple and with the boys; here and now. That doesn’t mean I don’t look forward to having time for just you and me…but I have no need to have that happen tomorrow, the next day or anytime sooner than it is supposed to happen. I am very happy living these days now. I am very happy not to rush them, and I don’t want our family to ever be so far apart that we cannot get together and celebrate the love we’ve built.

It will always come back to us. I am sure.

I wanted to point to the life I envision for us as we get closer to our goals but really; we have achieved our goals.

They are not somewhere out in the future…they are now. Every kiss in the morning, every smile in the afternoon and every time we get through another event as a family only impresses upon me how many goals we have achieved.

I wanted to write about the perfection of our union and how absolutely easy this has all been; but as we both know we are not perfect, and this has not been easy.

We started a life together that was literally tested by being oceans apart. We both understand that marriage is hard work and that love is a verb that has to be constantly acted upon to be real. I appreciate that at times when I forget that, you bring me back to those actions.

I appreciate that you demand a lot from me. I appreciate that we are partners in the marriage we have and that we are each other’s confidants. I know our secrets are safe with one another, and that love will always be a verb for both of us.

I wanted to write you a letter today, but as it turns out the letter has written itself. I hope you take it as my gift to you.

The adventure continues, for better or for worse.

Happy Anniversary Boo

I love you
d

Now Sam HATES to unwrap himself from his computer games. He’s also not a big sports guy. I understand computer games are his passion right now and while we set limits to it, I try not to mess with his “on” time. When we have a game though, I like to have us all go and root for the brothers playing. We usually have fun ribbing and joking with one another while we’re watching the game but last night he was having NONE of it.

He was surly, angry and just unpleasant to both his brother and me. Eventually he moved to the other side of the bench and his younger brother Dan, decided he too could be rude to momma. Dan said a couple of unpleasant things and scooted over as well.

That was it. I was done. I was NOT going to be treated rudely by people whom I loved and cared about and act like it was okay. I stood up, motioned to his father that we were leaving and walked out. The two boys came running after me.

“No momma, we’re sorry; we’re sorry.” they cried after me.
Sammy was so upset he started crying saying

“I want to fix this. Let’s go inside and I’ll change my attitude mom. I promise.”

It took everything I had not to hug him up and tell him it was okay. That I understood and that I’d be happy to act as if nothing had happened.

But I didn’t.

I wanted him to know and understand that I have feelings too. That he and his brother couldn’t treat me poorly and expect everything would be okay as soon as they said they were sorry. I didn’t yell, I didn’t fuss; I just left. When we got home I went upstairs to my room and didn’t speak to them again.

I laid down that night with the youngest and explained to him that you cannot treat people you love rudely and expect them to automatically forgive you. I told him it hurt my feelings and that I didn’t particularly want to be around him when I got home which is why I went upstairs.
Of course he was sad, and he apologized. I told him I loved him and said goodnight.

Then Sam came in to say goodnight (I’d actually gone up to bed). He was breathing deeply like he does when he is stressed. I said goodnight and hugged him and told him I loved him. It wasn’t until this morning that we talked about what happened.

“Do you know why I was so upset last night Sam?”

“Yes mom.” he said.

“I won’t be treated poorly by you or anyone else Sammy. Do you understand that?” I asked.

“I do.” he said quietly.

As he left this morning I hugged him and said;

“I missed you last night Sam.”

“I missed you too mom.” he said.

So no funny stories for this one; just wanted to share some reality and say that as hard as it was and is, I think it is really important to teach your kids how to treat you. Some things are not okay and unless you set that standard with them I don’t think anyone else will teach them.

I shared this story with my exercise partner this morning. She told me that her nephew was complaining that his mom called him every day and he fussed at his mom somewhat rudely, saying sons don’t talk every day with their mothers.

“That’s a daughter thing.” he said.

“Do you love your mom?” my friend asked her nephew.

“Of course I do”, he replied, “I’d die for that woman.”

“Vince”, she said, “She’s not asking you to die for her; she’s just asking you to call her.”

Later that night she saw Vince heading upstairs with his cell phone.

“I’m going to call my mom” he said to my friend.

She smiled.

I guess it is never too late to learn a good lesson.

Have a brilliant day!

There’s a bigger person that’s working the season.

Now, that’s a story that ought to be told.

While Santa works hard for the holiday mirth and is often considered the cause,

 the real muscle and brains, as each woman knows, comes directly from one;

MRS. CLAUS.

She hangs up the stockings, she preps all the lights, she shops for the elves, and maps out his flights.

She buys for his office, preps food for his parties, she hangs out the wreathes, bakes cookies and tart

 (ies).

She shops for his brothers, his sisters and aunts, she matches his outfits, nice shirts with nice pants.

She brines the turkey, she preps the sprouts, she’s taking the photos and getting cards out.

Yes, he works hard and his work pays the bills, but without her this season would fall flat on its’ heels.

I mean really does he even know the elves’ sizes?

What type of dessert, Prancer’s favorite pie is?

No-he’s round and he’s jolly, and hangs with the kids, has not even a clue where the mistletoe is.

She wonders sometimes if all this toil matters;

then an elf wanders in, steals a cookie and scatters.

Pretty soon three more elves slip through the door,

“Man, those are great, can we PLEASE have some more?”

They walk away smiling, and munching and shine

“Gosh she’s just the BEST, don’t you LOVE Christmastime?”

And amongst all the ribbons and glitter and cheer,

Mrs. Claus nods…

smiles…

 and sniffs back a tear.

Parenting Tip of the Day:  Hide those receipts.  I know you’re hiding the  presents but don’t forget that those little guys learn to read and if they find the receipts or the open bill from the credit company–YIKES LUCY–you got some ‘splainin’ to do.

1. If it is flameless…it is NOT a candle.  It’s a light.

 2.  If you are one of the four out of five women that cannot read a pregnancy test, you should NOT be having children.  You are stupid.

3.  Even if you didn’t take a little blue pill, any erection that lasts longer than 4 hours requires medical attention. Frankly, your wife needs to get examined too!

4.  Future episodes of Degrassi on the Nick TV channel should NOT be advertised during iCarly reruns; especially the ones about lesbianism.

5.  You should NOT check the “Correct Blemishes” box on your child’s school photo ordering sheet.  Kids should not think they need to be photo shopped to sit on their parent’s shelf.  They are perfect.

6.  Teenage kids should not be able to express themselves by wearing any part of a military uniform unless/until he or she has worn it in combat or in service to their nation. 

7.  Stay at home moms deserve the right to represent what they do at career day.  They don’t stay home because they are unable to do anything else.  It’s because they are putting their considerable talents into raising their children.  Trust me—it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

8.  If you are a commissioned officer in the United States military (or a retired officer drawing retirement pay) and you use contemptuous words against the President, you are in violation of Article 88 of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice and are subject to a court martial.  Yes.  If you are retired they can reactivate you and court martial your butt.  That is the case even if you do it with a wink and a smile and a nudge.  Clean up your act.  You fight for democracy, you don’t live by it.    

9.  Skinny people do NOT eat McDonald’s food. 

10.  Going to the McDonald’s drive through, ordering coffee and having the little black box ask you “Where’ve you been?” is NOT a good sign.

11.  If you have 18 children, that’s enough.  Really, 18 of anything is enough.  If you cannot control yourselves please stay in separate rooms.

12.  If someone offers you a reality television show you are odd.  In some way you are odd and there is nothing good going to come of it.

13.  If you do get a reality TV show, when things in your personal life go to crap please, please, please don’t go on the talk show route and talk about the intrusion into your personal life.  Refer back to #12 and probably #2.  You are odd and you are stupid. 

14.  If airlines are going to sell food or alcoholic beverages then they should have adequate change for people who buy the food and beverages they have to sell.  I’ve been flying in airplanes since I was 16 years old and they STILL announce they can’t make change when you buy a drink.  Is this rocket science?

15.  If you are 24 years or under – you don’t have a “life story”.  Don’t write a book.  It makes us 40 somethings mad.  Only people that have lived longer than a horse should be able to write a book about their life story. 

16.  The world changes when both your parents have passed away.  If you are in this situation, you know what I’m talking about.  Home is no longer someone or someplace you go to visit.   There is a  painful hole that you will never fill with anything but sweet memories.  I respect the process and the whole circle of life thing, but I miss my mom and dad.

17.  If for some reason you are not speaking to one of your children, you need to fix it.  You are the parent, you are the grown-up, and you need to fix it.  It may hurt and it may be the last thing you think you need to do or you owe to your child; but someday you will die.  When you do, you want to leave someone grieving your loss.  It means you impacted a life. 

Your tombstone will not say:

“I was right by God”. 

and…

even if it does;

No one will come to read it.

Parenting Tip of the Day:  We struggled with our decision on letting the boys see their Grandmother’s body.  My husband was traumatized by that process when he was young and we all worried that perhaps our boys were too young.  In the end, we asked them for their thoughts.  We were very frank with our children that the body was not their grandmother that she’d left.  In honesty, they did not know her very well.  She was sick for about the past seven years.  They opted to be a part of the service and I’m glad they were there.  They heard me speak about her legacy and they rallied around me in support.  And the oldest, the one that did know her, he cried.  I’m glad he cried.  Some things are worth being sad about.

My momma taught me that. 

When I come down in the evening in my PJs and the boys come rushing over to sit by me, Sam will raise his head and say:

 “Ohhh….you have on that perfume don’t you?”

 I think about hugging my mom over the years; burying my head into her neck and smelling her perfume.  I remember it warmed me and made me feel safe and loved.  So when the boys snuggle down next to me taking in long breaths of whatever perfumed lotion I’ve slathered on, I think:

My momma taught me that.

When I give a stranger a couple of dollars  I remember watching my mom reach into her pocket book and pull out money at the grocery store.  She’d help the person in front of us if they were a little short.  I’d walk away from the register holding her hand, looking up at that beautiful face, and feeling so proud.   Charity is one of the things she taught me.

When I start to put together a meal, I think about all the meals that she made in our kitchen.  Meals weren’t just something you ate, meals were an event.  Meals were cornbread and pinto beans, collard greens with ham hocks and sausage gravy and biscuits.  Saturday dinner was a steak, always a steak, sometimes in the kitchen or sometimes in the dining room where you “dressed” for dinner and ate by candlelight.  The kitchen table was a place of ritual and family, sometimes heated discussions and always good food.  When people ask me where I learned to cook I tell them:

My momma taught me that.

When I stand on the porch and wave goodbye to family and visitors pulling down the driveway and I take a moment to say a little prayer for their safe journey, I remember all the times I left my home on May Avenue, watching momma wave to me as I pulled away.  I know how important that last wave is and I think:

My momma taught me that. 

Even as mom started her slow journey from us, even when she didn’t always know who I was or where she was, even then she’d hug me and tell me she loved me.  That was her nature. 

I wonder if I would want to live the last years of my life as my momma did.  I can’t help but think about how much comfort and joy she brought us by being there for us to visit, to touch and hug.  We’d sit and share a cup of coffee, maybe watch a cooking show or take trip out to the garden.  Sometimes we were strangers, sometimes we were her daughters but always her gentle nature recognized us as friends. 

She gave so much and continued to ask for so little.  I’d want to do that for my boys as well.  She allowed us to let her go slowly and when it came time to say goodbye, we did.  My sister was there when she left us.  As gently as my momma lived, she died.   

Many years ago, right after my grandmother died, I found my mom in her bedroom writing down her thoughts.

Through her tears she said:

“You can read this when I’m done.”

She wrote pages about the things her momma did that made her world so full of love.  

If you wonder why I thought it important to write these things down now,

through my tears I can only tell you:

My momma taught me that.

                                                            Janice Irene Austin (Barrett)

                                               October 17, 1923 to November 7, 2009

                                             Every good thing I am; is rooted in you!