Family Archives - Page 26 of 51

Yard Angst – Recycled

by jphilo | Jun 21, 2011 | Family

I’m a little on edge this week, trying to finish the edits on Different Dream Parenting and get it back to the editor by the June 27 deadline. But today’s recycled post from last June reminds me that book angst is much easier to deal with than wedding angst. This time last year I was worried about the yard, the flowers, the weather, and a whole bunch of other stuff, as this post from June 14, 2010 shows.

Yard Angst – Recycled

These days, I’m worrying about the yard. First, the warm April weather fooled the summer flowers into blooming two weeks early even though May turned cold. Now, a week of heavy rain and predictions of more to come put the whole state under a flood watch. So I’m looking for someone or something to blame for my daughter’s unshakable decision to have her wedding in our yard on July 11.

You see, the wedding has become a constant source of yard angst for me. Will all the flowers be done blooming before the wedding? If the rains continue, will the yard be a yishy, squishy mess? Will the creeping Charlie be too noticeable? Will the weeds in the flower beds take over? Will the weather be too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too windy, too still?

I found the perfect outlet for my yard angst. It’s the young red oak in our yard. We planted in during Anne’s childhood. She waited year after patient year for the sapling to get big enough to climb, which she did frequently once her dad declared it a tree. Since then, it’s gotten big enough to cast a respectable amount of shade on hot, summer days. And on cool fall afternoons, it glows red and glorious. Despite its usefulness and beauty, between now and the wedding, I plan to blame it for my yard angst every single day.

After all, it’s a perfect whipping post. When I start railing about the wedding, it can’t walk away. It can’t spout off a snappy comeback or argue with my logic. It’s too flexible for straight line winds to snap it, too deeply rooted for a flood to wash it away, and too far from the house to fall on it during a tornado.

Ahh, I’m beginning to understand why Anne fell in love with her tree. Not enough to climb the darn thing (no need for height angst to keep the yard angst company), but enough to go along with her romantic whim. At least until the next round of yard angst sets in.

How much longer until July 11?

Ma Ingalls; One Tough Cookie

by jphilo | Jun 20, 2011 | Family

This weekend my admiration for Caroline Ingalls, known as Ma to fans of the Little House on the Prairie series, grew by leaps and bounds. Perhaps strides and stomps would be more accurate terminology. Because Saturday my son, new daughter, husband and I spent the day striding and stomping across bits of prairie in south central Iowa.

Well, my son and husband did most of the prairie striding and stomping.

More often than not, my daughter and I eyed the wet, waist-high grass and stayed by the car or walked along more civilized footpaths, talking about the two guys striding and stomping all over the place. Judging by the number of ticks pulled off the son, the husband and the dog, we were the wise ones. Especially after they each pulled off a deer tick, the nasty little critters that carry Lyme disease. There’s a house guest we don’t want cluttering up our carefree, empty nest. No sir.

But back to Ma Ingalls.

During my repeated childhood readings of the Little House Series, spunky, little Laura was my hero. Mary was my paragon of beauty. Jack the brindle bulldog was my dream pet and protector. Pa was one tough and tender dude, shooting supper every afternoon and playing his fiddle in the moonlight.

But Ma?

She always hovered in the background, tying hair ribbons, changing Baby Carrie’s diapers, and worrying about boring stuff like whether they would starve during the winter, die from malaria, be massacred by Indians, be able to buy fabric for clothes and shoes, find a school for the girls, or find a church.

Talk about a fusspot.

But after our day of stomping, striding and deticking, Ma Ingalls took on superhero status. She couldn’t hang back and wait by the wagon or walk along footpaths. No, she either waded through the grass or ride in a jolting, rocking wagon while holding baby Carrie whose diapers weren’t waterproof.

Yuck.

Think of the ticks she pulled off Jack, who trotted behind the wagon all day. And off spunky little Laura who got out and walked to stretch her legs. And off Mary. And Pa. And off herself, cause we know she had to wade through the grass to go potty now and then, even though the call of nature is mentioned not once in the seven book series. No way she could have held it that long. Though she probably wanted to, since they didn’t have toilet paper.

Double yuck.

Ma Ingalls was one tough cookie. Our day of prairie striding and stomping proved she’s unsung superhero of the Ingalls tribe. In my opinion, she deserves her own series. However, I’m not writing it. Research requiring tick-picking, diapers that aren’t waterproof, and potty breaks without toilet paper doesn’t interest me.

Any takers?

The Bro & Sis Would Be Laughing

by jphilo | Jun 17, 2011 | Family

I’m so glad the bro and sis weren’t here this morning, sitting in the audience during my workshop this morning. They would have been rolling on the floor with laughter, and that would have been way too distracting.

Why?

Well, the topic was how to organize research and writing. During our mutual childhood, my reputation was more space cadet than organizational maven. I could not keep track of either time or toys as a kid, so their soda pop would have squirted out their noses at the thought of their middle sister (who also reversed the letters d, b, p, and q with reckless abandon) teaching writers how to stay organized.

Gross, but true.

So the bro and sis need to take note of this: the workshop was well-received and my true confessions of past space cadetitis gave the organizationally challenged in our group great hope. You two can snort Pepsi out your noses all you want, but my charts and forms made more than one writer’s eyes light up. If either of you want copies, let me know. Ditto for cleaning your closets, sorting your files. I draw the line at folding underwear. I don’t even fold my own underwear. No sense being too organized.

Gross, but true.

Too Hot to Handle

by jphilo | Jun 9, 2011 | Family

Some weeks are just too hot to handle, and this week is getting mighty steamy. You might think I’m talking about the record breaking, never-before-experienced-this-early-in-June heat wave that’s got the whole state sweating up a storm. At least, we hope there’s a storm coming soon to cool things down. But it’s more than the weather making this week too hot to handle, though the heat was the primary instigator of events.

Think domino effect.

Think taking your 82-year-old mother to a mammogram appointment in the heat.
Think she’s already hot and sweaty before the boob smashing begins.
Think she’s really hot and sweaty after the smashing ends.
Think her daughter doesn’t realize quite how hot and sweaty her mother was and took her to Walgreens to buy a Father’s Day card for her son.

Think her daughter figured out how hot and sweaty her mother was when her mother got sick to her stomach and threw up in a plastic shopping bag.

Yeah, that kind of domino effect.

Poor mom. On Memorial Day a few short weeks ago, she was almost dancing in the cemetery, making jokes about modeling for her internment beside Dad. Yesterday, she was over-heated, smashed, and tossing her cookies at the drug store. This morning, she’s feeling better and eating again, but the whole experience has me thinking.

Why are we subjecting this 82-year-old woman with Alzheimer’s to yearly mammograms? There’s no history of breast cancer in her family. And if she ever was diagnosed with breast cancer, would she want treatment? After all, the best day she had all month was when we visited the cemetery. It’s where most of the people she loves hang out. However, if I continue in this vein, the topic could render this post could get a little too hot to handle. So I’d better stop now.

That darn domino effect.

The Wedding Dance – Recycled

by jphilo | Jun 7, 2011 | Family

Once again, a dip into this blog’s archives is a reminder of how much can change in two short years. This post, from June 8, 2009, chronicles the wedding of my daughter’s best friend. Since then, our daughter Anne met and married her husband, and her best friend had a baby. The young family spent an afternoon and evening with us last week when Anne and her hubby were here. Anne has graduated and will soon move to Ohio.

But one thing hasn’t changed – the constant, deep well of joy within my daughter – captured so well in this photograph. She is a woman of unconventional and uncommon contentment. And that, I pray, will never change.

The Wedding Dance

Anne’s best friend got married on Saturday. My daughter was bridesmaid dress creator and maid of honor. I was wedding photographer (under duress), and Hiram was our gal Friday, but please don’t say it to him in quite those words.

One week before the wedding, life was tense at our house. Two of the four bridesmaids had yet to try on their dresses for the first time. Anne’s room was a disaster area, strewn with purple cloth and lavender thread. I was a nervous wreck, envisioning potential camera disasters in every waking moment and having nightmares about them every night. I maintained sanity by taking so many deep, cleansing breaths I almost hyperventilated.

On the day of the wedding, Anne was still altering dresses until an hour before the ceremony. But when she walked down the aisle, she was lovely, calm, and collected. I didn’t have to look lovely and maintained a surface calm by snapping over a thousand pictures, assuming that the more I took, the greater the likelihood of a few good shots. And my gal Friday – and don’t you dare tell him I called him that – kept me collected.

At the reception, Anne’s car had battery problems which kept Hiram in the parking lot during most of the festivities. Anne’s toast to the bride, Rachel Ross, was warm, witty, and wise. I kept snapping pictures, but the lighting at the reception hall and my camera were not compatible. Would I have any decent pictures of the reception and the dance?

My question was answered yesterday. Among the thousand and more pictures that took all day to download, this one, with my daughter, radiant and beautiful as she danced, brought tears to my eyes. All my tension and worry were redeemed by the look on her face.

Why, I am wondering today, after all my fussing and fretting, all my my worry and snippiness, was I granted the honor of seeing my sweet daughter dance and of capturing her joy?

The Dream of a Lifetime – Recycled

by jphilo | May 31, 2011 | Family

This week’s recycled post was selected for one good reason. It made me laugh. Three meals at McDonald’s in one day is a feat I hope never to accomplish again. It’s more fun to read about when it happened in May of 2008 than it was to eat!

The Dream of a Lifetime – Recycled

Wednesday morning, my brother and mom picked me up at 6:15 to attend my uncle’s funeral. We spent most of the day on the road. In the course of the trip, we realize a dream that would make most seven-year-olds salivate. We ate three meals at McDonalds.

In our family, this accomplishment is earth-shattering news. My siblings and I spent most of our childhoods begging to eat at McDonalds. Since the closest one was 25 miles away in Sioux City and money was tight, our pleas fell on deaf ears. Except, of course, when Mom had saved up for a big city shopping trip. Then, if we were also running short of the straws for Dad, we ate lunch at McDonalds with strict orders to save the straws, ketchup packets, plastic spoons, extra napkins and anything else not nailed to the floor.

Our taste buds have changed in the intervening years, so we weren’t thinking of Golden Arches when we started out Wednesday. Later, my brother said he did have the Clear Lake McDonalds in mind since his mother-in-law would be there with her breakfast gang. She was, and we had a nice visit. My yogurt cup was delicious.

We arrived at our destination around noon. With the post-funeral light lunch three or more hours away, we decided to get something to tide us over. Pipestone, Minnesota’s dining options are limited. Once again, we chose McDonald’s. Their side salads are pretty good, I discovered.

At the church, Mom had time to visit with her sister-in-law before the funeral. The service was sweet and touching, a good end to my uncle’s life lived long and well. The cemetery was beautiful with dozens of fern peonies buds opening to the warm and welcome sun. During lunch back at the church, we chatted with relatives more than we ate and didn’t leave until after 5:00. By 8:30 we were close to Albert Lea, hungry as bears. Mom suggested we stop at the travel plaza that housed several fast food places. We agreed, but we weren’t hungry for Pizza Hut. We were hungry for Cold Stone Creamery ice cream, but after quick waistline checks we shook our heads.

Our third option was – you guessed it – McDonalds. I ordered a salad with grilled chicken, then caved and added a large fries to split with Mom. As we carried our food to the car, my brother said, “I think this a new record. Three McDonalds meals in one day.”

At that moment I realized we are getting really old. Forty-years ago, a day like this would have thrilled us. These days it makes us green around the gills. No doubt about it, we’re slipping. I have proof. We didn’t even save our straws.