Tag Archives: childhood

the curse of having old parents…


“Why?” The doll asked me last night.

Not really paying attention to what she was saying I shrugged and kept moving on.

“Mom, are you listening to me?” (Busted!) “I’m sorry doll, my attention was divided. What did you ask?”

“Why don’t we do anything fun any more?”

There it is.

“Like what do you mean? We go on vacations that are fun…” I replied.

“Besides that; why don’t we do anything as a family anymore?”

“Like what?” I asked. I had an idea of where she was headed with this line of questioning, but decided let her elaborate.

“I don’t know…maybe you and I could go get pedicures…or maybe as a family we could go see a movie…or out to dinner…or even just take a long drive somewhere…”

I shook my head up and down in agreement and promised to take her ideas under advisement. But in our defense, at 14 and 11 years of age, we thought the kids would be more independent; wanting to hang out with friends more than with us. In addition, I am now working almost full time hours-between my four women. Also, their father changed his work schedule to include working Saturdays. Then you add to the mix their father’s scary heart arrhythmia last month and you can see how easy it has become to hang out at home, instead of going out in search of adventure.

But she got me thinking-remembering what it was like for me, growing up with my “old” parents. My mom was 40 and dad  42 years of age when I came around. Couple that with seven children ahead of me and one after and a workaholic (out of necessity) father–I didn’t hang out with my parents all that much. On the occasions I did, I remember being quite bored and feeling tortured to do so.  Mom and Dad were boring old fogies-who wants to be around them?  Yet here we are today, my daughter yearning to hang out with her parents-the boring old fogies we’ve become.

“Doll, what do you say this weekend we go hiking?” I asked. “No, that sounds boring.” she honestly replied. “Then what do you suggest we do?” I asked. “I don’t know…maybe see a movie?” she tried…. “Now that sounds boring to me…” I said in return. “I know, why don’t we think about it over the next few days and then decide?” she suggested. The boy overhearing the conversation threw his two cents in by saying, “Whatever you two decide I can pretty much tell you I’m not doing it”. “Who’s talking to you?” the doll offered in return.

Without missing a beat I replied, “And you wonder why we never do anything together anymore…”

“Point taken Mama” the boy replied.

The doll on the other hand handed me a pad of paper and pen and suggested we begin making our lists…


love love love….


I’ve talked before about the importance A A Milne’s character, Winnie the Pooh has played in my children’s life-the boy’s life most importantly.  For a few years there I was not the mother to “The Boy” instead Kitty Voman or properly translated from a two year old’s language; Christopher Robin. Pooh bear as he became known in my house has continued to be the boy’s best friend-even though today he’d rather not admit that out loud. Yet every vacation we take, Pooh bear still travels with us. I dare say, when he leaves for college, I believe he’ll find a place for that silly old bear.

July 7, 2003: After getting the kids ready for bed one night, I pulled out “The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh”. Before I could begin, the boy climbed into his top bunk and brought down the gang- Pooh bear, Piglet and Tod the Fox (different Disney character).  The doll sat on my lap drinking a bottle while the boy and his gang surrounded me us on the floor. Before I could begin, the boy had us look at the map of the “Hundred Acre Wood”. Pointing at a specific location he said “From here we can pick up which story should be read first”. After examining the map for a minute I decided we should start at the beginning. So I began reading about Edward Bear and his name transformation; about how to differentiate between male and female names by the word “Ther” as in Winnie Ther Pooh”. As the story progressed I was interrupted by a small pink stuffed pig. “Uh, Mrs. Marsha, uh, am I in this story?” “Well Piglet, I think we’ll just have to wait and see” I replied. “Oh, okay Mrs. Marsha”.  I began reading again, only to be interrupted by a golden bear wearing a red shirt with a scarf wrapped around his neck. “Uh, Mrs. Marsha, do you think I could have a small smackeral of honey?” “Now Pooh bear, you know it’s bedtime; you can eat something in the morning” I replied. “Okay” a disappointed bear said. I was about to continue the story again when Piglet once again interrupted and asked if he could have a glass of water. “Okay, break time” I declared.  While on break I was able to put the doll into her bed for the night and get the “boy” a sippy cup of water. “Now guys, that water is for all of you to share alright?” The boy nodded in agreement and I picked up where we left off in the story only to be interrupted once again. Smiling I announced, “Okay gang, if I get one more interruption that means you’re too tired to listen tonight and bedtime will commence okay?” I finished the story about an hour later-without additional interruptions and then I tucked the “guys” into bed; said “pers” (prayers) and gave them all kisses goodnight.  As I left the boy’s bedroom I marveled over our little evening. Whenever I read stories to the kids, I animate the characters voices to give emphasis to the story.  When the boy began talking to me in Pooh and Piglet voices, they were not his own.  He was imitating me, imitating them.  Talk about something cool…

Writing a comprehensive blog that covers both children is difficult. Many times I think I leave the boy completely out of the mix (which I’m sure he likes) and focus more on the doll. Then when I try and focus on the boy, the doll scrunches her nose and is disappointed I didn’t write about her.  No wins regardless. Looking back at these letters I see this little boy, with a wide open imagination whose future was so far off into the distance. Now in a short three months he’ll be graduating Junior High and making his way to High School.  This prospect worries me to no end. I know he’s going to be a success wherever he lands; yet there are days I wish, I was sitting in his bedroom, reading The Many Tales of Winnie the Pooh and being interrupted by the gang.

You know the saying is TRUE…Hindsight is 20/20.