How Did We Survive Childhood?

We should all be dead---seriously.
I was born in the mid 60's,and am amazed that I, or any of my buddies, made it out alive.
Today's emotionally, and physically, bubblewrapped, 'helicoptered' kids have no idea what we 'went through' growing up...
Our playground equipment was metal...steel.
It froze your fingers off in the winter, and scalded your legs in the summer. I can still feel the blisters, and smell the metallic residue, it left on our hands. We were allowed to climb to the top of everything, and swing from it. If you fell off, you landed on compacted dirt...not 14" deep mulch or spongy rubber chips.The only goal was to NOT land in the mud puddle under the swings...or at the end of the slide.
We played on rusted out teeter-totters, and climbed trees.
We built forts...real ones constructed from found plywood, sticks and brush.
When I went over to a friends house, we played outside...the whole day.
(You were allowed to come inside---briefly for triage---if you were obviously bleeding.)
We were allowed to come in for bathroom breaks, and lunch...and that's pretty much it.
We rode on bikes that were way too big for us---sometimes with someone on the handle bars. And helmets?---nah. Why would we need helmets? We were not playing football...
We played outside barefoot...we had splinters in our feet from the dock, and we occasionally got stung by bees.
My friends and I had free range of the neighborhood.
We actually had to keep ourselves occupied!
We jumped on other people's trampolines---with no safety nets or pads around them. We 'double bounced' people.
There was a rope swing that went out over Crystal Lake that we were all quite fond of...although, in the winter we did get in trouble for swinging out over the water.
We obeyed and respected all grown ups. We followed directions. We listened.
If someone's mom made you a liver sandwich for lunch---you ate it, and said 'thank you'. None of us had food allergies...we ate peanut butter, drank whole milk, and ate food that had real fat in it...and we all hated raisins and broccoli.
We ate raw cookie dough!
We used soap and water to wash our hands...we actually had to sit at the table to eat.
We usually ended up with some kind of scrape,or skinned up knees, from rollerskating(on 4 wheels strapped to your sneakers), skateboarding (again with no helmets) or playing tag on cement.
The only 'time out' was to get a wet paper towel (handed out to you from the back door) to clean off scraped knees or elbows---the objective was to get outta there before a mom came at you with the Bactine spray, or Iodine.
We listened to the radio and played cassette tapes...we thought it was super cool when the 'boom box' came out.
We danced, and sang out loud---all of us!
The phone was attached to the wall---and you had to actually dial the number. We had to ask permission to use it...no one had an answering machine...you were either there...or not.
And the biggie? Only 3---yes three---television stations!*gasp*
(Oh, it was just 'miserable'!)
The one really good thing?
We did not have to walk 6 miles barefoot in the snow to get to school---like our parents did.

The Disappearance of Thanksgiving

Hey? Where did Thanksgiving go?
Over the years, have yall noticed that Thanksgiving has become a stepping stone to Christmas? We go from Halloween decorations being put out in July, to Christmas 'stuff' being put on display before Halloween...Thanksgiving is slowly becoming a 'non-event' in our society. It is like a dance that must be done, and instead of staying on tempo, it is switched to 'double time' to just get through it---and on to Christmas.
As a Visual Merchandiser, I have seen Christmas arrive earlier and earlier...as early as 'company directives' coming in September, and pre-season 'sales' being pushed out in late October.
This makes me sad for Thanksgiving...a real celebration of Thanks...for the basic 'gifts' of life: health, family, peace, love and friendships.

Thanksgiving is actually my favorite celebrated holiday.

(Yes, I love Christmas...fond memories abound.The season of 'good will'...the celebration of Jesus being born...caroles...cookies...and sweet snuggles under the tree at night...all that.(plus my birthday is 3 days later---mark your calenders.)

However,Thanksgiving is the most heart felt 'holiday' for me. It's not about the 'stuff' but the 'gifts' we receive from this life, and living it. The memories of family here now, and those who have left this life.

When I was little, mom and I always went to Thanksgiving at a family friend's home after my dad was killed in '68.(The posted picture is my first Thanksgiving...laughing with my dad.)
Every year was the same from the time I was 3 until I was in college.I could always count on a day of wearing church clothes, tights, and my 'noisy shoes'---I hated dresses then...dry turkey, unrecognizable side dishes---which I now crave, and Mrs. MacConachie's Trifle...which had sherry in it and I thought I was big stuff eating 'grown up' dessert! It was very formal. Classical music, starched linens, real china.(Although I do remember a break in the formality one year, when their son tried to open a jar of those little tiny pickles, and somehow they flew all over the kitchen...it was spectacular!)
I learned the proper silverware usage at a young age...and to sit up straight and keep my elbows off the table...I got in trouble one year because I took off my black patent Mary Janes under the table...(they had hardwood floors, and I was big in to 'skating' in my tights.)
I am thank-filled for their generosity, love, and teaching me how to be a 'lady'.

In college, mom and I started going to another family gathering at another friend's home.(The MacConachie's no longer had the big dinner since they were getting older and their kids had families.)
This was always more laid back. (I could wear a skirt.)The kids there were more my age, and we watched TV and ate snack foods before 'dinner'.It was buffet style, and not so many forks to navigate...and yeah, they drank beer and watched football after the meal. The 'menfolk' would retire to comfortable chairs, kick off their shoes, and let the 'turkey coma' set in. The gals would clean up the meal, trade dirty jokes and nonsense stories in the kitchen---and laugh a lot.
I am thank-filled for the relaxed spirit of that family, and the opportunity to be a part of their family celebration.
My first marriage was a return to the formal Thanksgivings again...but I was 27, and I could drink wine. (just sayin') They had 'staff' to cook and clean up...it was a wee bit pretentious I must say. My fondest memories of those days, were when I would hang out in the kitchen the 'staff'(the beloved Mary Anne), and my father-in-law,'Big Stan'. He was the epitome of giving, and love. He was a big,burly man, with a booming voice and a generous heart...sitting at the kitchen counter on his tall stool,drinking his Jack Daniels (on the rocks with a whisper of water---I know, because I was his 'best cocktail waitress') He and I would sneak hors d'oeuvres (sp?) off the trays before they were 'served'...we would laugh at the dog, trade limericks, and just enjoy being together.
I am thank-filled for those times with him, my babies, and Mary Anne.
My second husband's family is a mix of both casualness, and pretense. We usually spend the day on the beach daring each other to get in to the freezing ocean, and building the season's last sand castles. The guys drink beer and watch football all day. Then we have a 'formal' sit down meal around 3...(ok, why do people have Thanksgiving meals at weird times? I vote for lunch or dinner!)It is a good mix of everything and I am thank-filled for nice in laws, and for learning when there are too many Chiefs in the kitchen, and not enough Indians.
I hope my kids will always have fond memories, and give thanks for the things in life that cannot be bought---but are shared and given as love, generosity, compassion, grace, and humility. Family.
I am not one to ever forecast in to the future because I believe one needs to 'be here now'.
However, I cannot help dreaming of a day, sitting at my table with my 3 kids, and their kids and spouses...eating a meal that I cooked, holding one of my grandchildren in my arms,giving thanks for all the blessings of my life---and yeah....we will be wearing jeans, and eating at a real dinner time....

'Clear Butterfly Wings...'

My daughter, who is almost 5, has 'clear butterfly wings'...yes, it's true. She told me so.
And she is 'going to sneak out of the house when everyone is asleep and go to Maddy's house and teach her how to fly...'(she said that whole run-on sentence without taking a breath.)
I asked her if I could have some wings too because it sounded like fun.
She said,'...sure mom...I will give them to you when you are asleep.' (nodding very matter-of-factly.)
Well. OK then!
Be it known, as well, that 'macaroni and cheese keeps the wings clear...chicken nuggets turn them yellow.'
(I love my girl!)

Letting Go...for Good.

Yesterday I went to pick up my son in the little town I lived in with my first husband.
We stopped by my old house. My X had cleared out the attic, and 'there were things' of mine that he 'found.'...and I was 'welcome to look through them'. (Gee, thanks!)
When my son and I pulled in to the driveway...and I got that old, familiar, nerve wracking, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My old house...built in 1928.
MY house. The house that had seen my newborn babies come home, gave us shelter....watched them grow.The house I had lovingly landscaped for 7 years, helped renovate, designed and installed my kitchen and checker board tile floor...My kitchen, where I had cooked many a home made meal from scratch. The trees I had planted in the yard were now 20 feet tall. My precious gardens were overgrown from neglect...another casualty of divorce.
This house had seen much happiness, but more sorrow.
I was startled by it's emptiness when I walked through the door for the first time in 8 years.It was cold...musty. Left behind. My house had always been warm, smelled good, and seemed so big to me when I lived there with my kids. My son, who was standing next to me, was not 3 years old anymore---and almost as tall as I am now.
Maybe that was it. We had all 'grown'.
I got to task with looking through boxes....dusty, broken down boxes...with my handwriting on them...'JB Baby Clothes: 6-12 months'...'C's special dresses Newborn-6 months'...stuffed animals...toys..things I wanted my kids to have for their kids.

I am a 'saver'...some say 'pack rat'...I prefer 'family historian'.

Looking through the boxes and bags was like a time warp. My sons train set he got for Christmas when he was 3.(I can still see him clearly with his red flannel robe and footy pajamas,little boy 'just out of bed' hair, making train noises.) My daughters ragged out, and dearly loved, dolls in various states of 'undress'(Why do barbies always end up half naked with only one shoe?)...her little dresses, and baby sleepers.Books I read to them in the rocking chair before they went to sleep in my arms...I could still smell the baby shampoo on their clean, warm,little heads. It was overwhelming.
I was both sad and happy remembering.
I have one of those weird brains that remembers everything---usually trivial things to an outsider. Each saved stuffed animal, book, or piece of clothing had a special memory to me. A story.My son seemed to take comfort in my memories of the good times.
Eventually, he and I carried the boxes down the 28 stairs to the driveway---(I know it is 28 steps because my mom would remind me every time she visited.)
We walked through the house one more time before leaving. I said my 'goodbyes' to the house out loud. I hope she was listening.I thanked her for being good to me and my kids.
My home was alive when I lived there...with laughter, noise, and kids...not to mention 3 cats and a dog. This house was not my home anymore...and not my kids home. It was still, quiet...asleep.
A new family has bought my old house.They will be only the fourth family to live there in 81 years...81 years! I hope they will bring her back to life.
So,yesterday,finally, I let go of my house for good. No more 'what if's'....no more regrets, or wishing things had gone differently.
Letting go, for 'good'...for better...moving forward. It felt ok...closure.
Some times it is good to let go...I am a slow learner...and I will always have the stories to share with my kids---and their kids.That cannot be taken away, or lost.
I am learning to make room for 'the here', and 'the now'...and the future.
No more dark sadness.
Just light...and love.

Yeah. I love professional HOCKEY!

Before I moved to Hurricanes Country, I was never a fan of hockey.
My idea of hockey was the 'I Love Lucy' version, where Ricky and Fred go to a game, smoke cigars, yell at the refs, and get in fights with fellow fans. Hockey was barbaric. Hockey was 'gross'.
All that changed when the 'Canes made it to the playoffs in 2001...(I think that was the year.)
I actually had the time to watch the games as I was sequestered in a hotel every Tuesday night during my divorce--so my X could come stay in my house one night a week with my kids...(totally nuts, invasion of my privacy...a whole other story--but I digress.)
I was drawn to the quick pace of the games, and the physicality.(I wanted to body check some people too!) Hockey is like lacrosse, football, and track all rolled in to one. I am still amazed that the players can manipulate a hockey stick, chase a tiny puck, and evade death...all on ice skates! With ginormous pads, helmets and gloves...and some do not even have face masks on their helmets!
(Have you ever felt a hockey puck? Can you imagine one hitting your face at 100mph?)
These guys are tough---and may I add, very cute out of uniform.
OK, yes, the reason I love hockey is not only the sport itself, but also the cute boys. (There. I said it.)
I have a total crush on team captain Rod Brind'amore...'my Roddy'.
Reading his physical stats is enough to make a girl weak in the knees. He has a banged up 'hockey face'---scars, broken nose...beautiful! And, from the interviews I have seen, a really good person. I really want him to teach me how to skate backwards---it's on my 'bucket list.' (my kids totally make fun of me...but being the 'mature' adult, I just let that roll off my back.)
The energy of a hockey game is contagious. If you are lucky enough to sit near the glass, you will be amazed. My son and I sat close to the ice last year. It was awesome! We could hear the skates cutting the ice, the audible grunts during body checks and some of the 'colorful' conversation on the ice.
It's a party---it's LOUD! The energy is infectious! We always leave a game 'pumped up'.
(Plus, for you boys out there, the Canes Dancers are pretty cute as well.)
So, before you judge me because I love hockey---go see a game! You will be hooked too! LET'S GO HURRICANES!

Germ Warfare

With all the stuff flying around the media recently regarding swine flu and various other germy type illnesses it got me thinking about germ warfare.
(No, not the type where some freak drops the small pox on Minnesota, and suddenly there is a pandemic...)
I mean, my own personal war against germs.
Sometimes people get carried away.
My mom is a certified germaphobe...and I say this lovingly. She is the type now, that won't let me---her own daughter---take a bite of something she is eating without first cutting whatever it is away from what she is eating....and good Lord, I would never think of using her fork! There is a guttural sound of disgust that she emits when my kids drop something on her super clean floor, and then they eat it anyway. Her mantra is 'did you wash your hands?' (which I understand...because people in general just do not.)Luckily my 5 year old is a big hand washer...another excuse for her to say,'I can do it MYSELF'...my older kids, 11 and 14, still have to be reminded---and I still have to say,'if I smell your hands right now, will they smell like soap?' Of course this does backfire at times as they shove their hands in my face to prove a point!
I guess I never really thought much about it before I had kids.
The first baby drops her pacifier, and that one cannot be used again until it has been boiled in scalding water, air dried and sealed with some hermetic device. The second child drops a pacifier and you may rub it on your jeans, pick off some dog hairs, and then it's good to go. The third child drops a pacifier, and you might blow on it...and back in it goes.
Being in public with a new baby is always fun.
Why do people who you do not know, and do not ask if they can, want to touch newborns faces and hands...hello? New human here, building immune system---do NOT touch the baby...please. People! Do NOT touch the baby! (as you smile sweetly through gnashing teeth.)A friend of mine even had a woman---she did not know---stick her FINGER in the baby's mouth to see his teeth---now that would have deserved a roundhouse kick to that woman's head from me!
I guess my germaphobia does come out in a public restroom though.
I travel with my kids a lot...so, there are 'pitstops' on the road. I can tell you all the clean restrooms along my routes.Even still, I use my elbow to turn on/off the water, and I am teaching the girls the craft of 'hovering' and flushing with your foot.(I can also open doors with my foot---years of dance training.)My mantra with little people in luscious places like that is 'DON'T touch ANYTHING!' which draws snickers from stalls nearby...and yes, I have used the facilities holding a crawling age baby and hovering...what mom has not? Port-a-johns at public events are a lot of fun with children as well. Not only are they 'cozy', and smell delightful, but my kids are always afraid they will fall in to 'that hole'...(actually, so am I. Can you imagine?)For occasions like these it is best to just fumigate them with Lysol spray and dunk them in antibacterial gel...it is alcohol based, so, the kids do dry pretty quickly.
I am teaching my kids to cough in to their elbows...Dracula style...and to sneeze the same way. I get squirrelly when I see a kid at preschool with green snails hanging outta their nose. I can spot a fevery kid a mile away---and do not think that I don't know that that 'allergy' is really pink eye!
Preschool is a playground for the germs, however I can't send my child to school in a little hazmat suit. I mean really, it would severely impede her movement on the playground...and all the kids would want to try on the respirator for sure.Kids lick, bite, chew on everything, and each other. One must accept this and pray that no kid came to school with a case of flu.
After having food poisoning on more than one occasion, I am wary of food that I personally have not prepared or have seen being prepared. I have been a waitress...I know what goes on in the kitchen...and may I remind everyone, it is in your best interest to treat your wait staff kindly.
'Pot luck' dinners are hard for me now. If I know everyone who prepared the food, then I can call them the next day and see if they were hurling all night as well from 'Aunt Ginny's famous chicken salad'...and no, I do not buy stuff at bake sales outside of grocery stores.Some people seem to have cast iron stomachs and are not effected by anything. I can look at mayonnaise based potato salad sitting in the sun, and get ill...a trait I hope my kids do not get from me.
So far, so good this season...we have not started the cycle of illness. One kid gets sick, then after passing it on to the second, feels better while child three starts getting symptoms...then child one gets well, child two is really sick, and child three is going down hill. Then child one gets sick again, child two is better...you get my point. ('Who's on First'.)
I am just keeping my freshly washed fingers crossed that we survive another season, illness free...and that my germ warfare does not send me over the edge...and I won't let you use my fork...!!!

Learning To Trust 'Girls' Again...(maybe)

Raising girls is scary....period.

I have 2...one is 14 and the other turns 5 in December.
My 4 year old is a 'pistol'! She is the embodiment of joy.
I watch her on the playground with her other girl friends...
I cringe when they all do not get along. My heart sings when they do.They are such a juxtaposition of wide open innocence and inborn modesty and femininity. They love bugs and baby dolls equally right now.

My 14 year old rocks!
She is beautiful...with a Spirit to match. She is an athlete, and seems to have a lot of good friends....so far. She is not one of the 'mean' girls---thank God. Beneath the eye rolls and the 'gosh MOM!'---she digs me. She and I have a really open and honest relationship. She knows she can talk with me about anything...I hope she never forgets that!
Neither of my girls are 'girly girls'...but I have raised them that way.
Don't get me wrong.
We have our share of princess wands, baby dolls, and lipgloss around the house....and they both enjoy smelling nice.
However, they can both hold their own when playing rough with the boys, or sprinting to a soccer ball...no doubt! When they fall...they get up. The do not linger over the dirt on their knees. They move forward. No worries. (Yet.)
I was never a 'girly-girl'.
I guess I was a 'tomboy'...building forts in the dunes, playing tag football or riding waves.
My 'girlfriends' surfed and played lacrosse. Over the years my 'girls' were in musicals with me (some of those boys were 'girlfriends' too),in the design studio with me at all hours, and, even later in life, were not 'tickled pink' over birth and breast feeding either.
My 'girls' were independent thinkers,spoke their mind, a bit edgy, feminine---to a point--and not scared of a dare or getting dirty.
I did not join a sorority in college because auditions for the musical 'Peter Pan' were the same week as 'Rush' at ECU....(which actually turned out in my favor as I made the cast and became good friends with Sandy Bullock---but I digress.)
I have always had friends who were girls...no, we did not hug, and say,'love you, boooo!'....and we NEVER jumped up and down squealing and clapping when we saw each other.

When I lived in Atlanta, after college, I became 'one of the boys'...I was the token chick who hung with about 10 guys...cute ones, mind you....as in all-American, UNC Lacrosse player cute boys. 'We' were a pack. I was the 'wing man' for a lot of them---checkin' out chicks in the ladies room to see if they were 'worthy'...
Of course, I, personally, never had a date.
Well, I take that back. I had 10 dates (when we all went out) but none were interested in ME...although they were fiercely protective. All the 'girly girls' who wanted to date 'my dates' were always ridiculously jealous that I was always around. It was hilarious how many 'sucked up' to me, to get to my 'guys'. Whatever.
Thus began my mistrust of all 'girly girls'.
When I got married, the first time, my (now X) husband told me 'I love you because you're NOT like all the girls in this town'...and I was cool with that.(hahah!)
The girls there were 'girly girls'...ex-sorority sistahs(the squealy jumping clapping kind), Junior League-ers(who chatted about birth stories at meetings instead of getting their hands dirty with something notable like helping homeless mothers),social climbers(hanging with the 'right' people and keeping up with the 'Jones's was key). Back stabbers. The kind of women who only have sex with their husbands to get a new piece of 'bling' or a kitchen remodel.
(Hey, I know how harsh that sounds, but it was reality in the tiny town I lived in.)
The 'girly girls' all circled the wagons around my X when we were going through the divorce. (I was an 'imported wife', they were all married to other wealthy hometown boys---their social standing was at stake, by God! and what is more important than that? Certainly not truth and the well being of my small kids.)
They all testified against me...purgering themselves...and I lost my young children.
(Apparently, while I was staying home taking care of my 2 little ones---and even theirs at times---I was 'doing drugs, drinking, and not concerned for the welfare of her children because she is so narcissistic, and has a skewed perception of reality'...Man, I must have REALLY been 'wasted' because I don't remember any of that!...if you really know me, that should give you a giggle.)
My very very best friend even turned against me...5 years of close friendship---'poof', gone because she 'did not want to upset' her husband who was my X's childhood friend...??? Really?
My trust in women flew right out of the window, and up came my very high stone wall.
When I moved to where I live now, I was very wary of making friends with women.
Slowly, but surely...my wall started coming down. My new sister in law is actually nice to me...and I have neighbor women whom I adore.
My new 'girlfriends' here have helped me develop trust again...I watch our girls play together. We talk about real social issues, as well as the latest funny stories about our families...I am so grateful that I have had a second chance to learn to trust 'girls' again...hopefully this will last a long time!
(But, sorry yall, I still won't jump up and down, squealing and clapping when I see them!)