Tag Archives: memories

one for the road…

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Well we finished off  “Look Back” February and my kids couldn’t be happier.  “Mom, I don’t think you should use those things anymore. I mean who cares what we did as kids anyway?”  Giving her a mock sad face I replied, “Well, I liked seeing that your set personality really hasn’t changed all that much”.  “Well you don’t count” The doll replied. True I don’t; I’m biased.

What I learned looking back? The boy always had a cold. Hmm perhaps he does have allergies. The doll has always tried to be the boss of the family…and the boy has learned to let her. Both kids know how to push one another’s buttons and unfortunately, their parents as well.

Both kids are going through changes right now…”It’s not my fault my body’s changing! If it were up to me I’d just be Dixie (the dog)!” the doll shouted at me yesterday, unhappy I woke her up for school. “Well if that were the case then you’d be a bitch all the time!” I replied. She scowled at me in reply.

The other night I was talking to one of the boy’s classmates–who is as tall has he is, but still has the high, little boy voice. I had a hard time listening–my boy’s tenor has been low for so long now…I don’t remember what his little voice sounded like.

Maybe Mom’s the one going through changes..er….well,  that’s an entirely different blog…

Oct 20, 2003: We took some good walks at the park around the block and in the neighborhood, hoping all this good clean air would help the children fall asleep easier and maybe sleep in in then morning. But for some reason Friday night we couldn’t convince either one to go to bed at their bedtimes. The doll was just wired. The boy was far too interested in what was going on around him. At 8:30 pm I had the doll dressed and ready for bed. We’ve been weaning her off the bottle, giving her only four ounces at bedtime. Then she brushes her teeth, blows kisses at her Dad, brother and dog. Usually I place her in bed, give kisses and off to dreams land she goes. Instead she decided to jump up and down on the bed. Then she decided she didn’t like her pajamas or diaper because she whipped them both off. I was in the boy’s room, playing a video game with him listening to her yell and jump around. When I went into her room to settle her down I was shocked to see a bucked naked girl jumping in front of me. I picked her up, took her into the living room and gave her to her father, while I searched for our old pal…duct tape. the hubby redressed her and put a large piece of duct tape across her diaper.  Again she went through her bedtime ritual: blowing kisses to her Dad, brother and dog. I have her goodnight kisses, handed her a board book then turned on her musical bunny before I left her room. I went back into the boy’s room to resume the video game play with him. The doll resumed her protest for going to bed as well.

After a while I noticed she was no longer yelling “Mom!!” and all indications were that she was asleep. I turned off the game, tucked the boy into bed and left to check on my doll. When I peaked into her room, I smiled and called her daddy over to look too. Standing there, we both smiled and shook our heads back and forth; there sound asleep our daughter laid completely naked. Evidently the duct tape wasn’t long enough to keep her from manipulating the straps off. Her diaper was on the floor, her pajamas in a heap next to them. I managed to get the diaper back onto her, placing a longer piece of tape across the straps and let her sleep shirtless. Hmm, I wonder what this child is trying to tell us?

Evidently we were pretty clueless back then….I wonder if things have changed….?

Looking back has been sweet….and fun….but looking forward, facing the future, living our lives; that’s where we’re headed.

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love love love….

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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.

torture comes in many forms….

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In anticipation of making some big changes this coming year, we’ve begun the process of getting rid of the junk we have accumulated over the years.  You know clothes, toys, paperwork; all the clutter we removed from the upstairs and hid in the basement–and boy is there a lot of junk.

“Mom, you’re not throwing this out!” the doll asked as she looked into the garbage bag filled with old school papers I saved for no other reason than I didn’t know what to do with them. “Sorry doll.  You can’t tell me this holds any sentimentality to you?” I said holding up a barely legible “book” she wrote in first grade.  “No, it doesn’t, but I don’t see any of the boy’s paperwork in there either.”  Ah there’s the rub; it’s always there.  “Take a look at that bag over there…” I said pointing at another bag, filled to the brim with paper and spiral notebooks.  Seeing she was not alone in what I was purging she happily disappeared up the steps, away from the memories being released.

I came across old letters to Santa Claus by both kids and my personal favorite picture of the boy and doll meeting Santa–the doll hanging on for dear life to her father’s hand,  seen as part of the boarder of the picture.  She was not happy to be on this old guy’s lap.  Meanwhile the boy’s smile said it all… “What the heck I’ve Santa’s ears all to myself!”  The picture is priceless.   I also came across the doll’s fan letter to Selena Gomez a few years back, which I promised to mail, but never did.

Another bin is now filled with magazines I ordered for the kids; filled with short stories, to help fuel their imaginations.  I wonder what I’m supposed to do with them…recycle, donate or destroy?  The memories in that part of the house are so thick I don’t think a knife can cut through.

Last night my niece Lauren suggested I should be tortured for posting some old childhood pictures of she and her sisters I came across, on Facebook.  All three girls made funny comments about how they looked, what they were wearing and whether or not they saw themselves as “cute”.  I used to watch my nieces while I was in college and we had some knock down dragged out fights, which we laugh about to this day.

I wonder if my kids will look at upon these blogs the same way… “Mom, please write in your will that you leave the rights to the Mean Mommy Memoirs to me so I can publish them and use the money they produce to support myself when I’m older”  The boy suggested the other night.  “Bud, if they could make money, don’t you think I’d try that myself?  I mean after all, a little extra money around the house would come in handy–don’t you think?”  “Nah, besides you’ll be dead and dead author’s materials are worth more.”  “They are huh..?.”  Smirking  he added, “Well, that’s just what I’ve read”.

Right before Christmas I went to my parents house and finally retrieved a bin of pictures my family created for every member; shortly after my mother died.  Then any time one of us came across anything that remotely could belong to a family member, they had a bin in which to put it in. As I waded through all the ugly grade school pictures I came across two letters I had written to my mom.  One was a check list of everything I needed to take to camp.  In the other letter I was asking mom to forgive some dumb thing which no doubt led to my being grounded.  I laughed, “Mom why the heck did you save this?” as I read the darn things.

But I know…

as my kids will someday know…

as we all know…

Ah….back to the torture of the basement….