My Marvelous Mother

My beautiful mom and me, 1952

My mother, the youngest of seven children, was a bright and talented little girl who lost her father when she was only ten years old and has missed him ever since. She and her mother, my Grandma Johnson, grew even closer as they bonded together to overcome their devastating loss and maintain a good life for themselves. The older siblings had already left the nest, so it was just the two of them at home, determined to make the best of a difficult situation.

Money was hard to come by in those days, but my grandma made sure Mom continued to take the violin lessons that had become so important to her by baking two or three extra loaves of bread each week to give the teacher. My uniquely gifted mother became a concert violinist, and I have cherished memories of listening to her practice and perform over the years.

At school, Mom was an outstanding student with lots of friends. She excelled in both English and mathematics, winning a full-ride scholarship to Stanford that she never used because she married my father instead. Mom had wanted to be a doctor, and she would have made an excellent one. She also had a talent for teaching; and thanks to her efforts, all of us could read well by the age of four. In fact, every one of Mom's children is an avid reader today, and we are pretty decent writers, too.

My mother had a wonderful example in her own mother. Perhaps that is why motherhood was and is the most important thing in her life. After struggling with infertility, Mom was lucky enough to adopt one child and then bear four more, with a number of miscarriages along the way. I remember how excited she was with a successful pregnancy, and she made us all feel like participants in the thrilling, 9-month process. She also loved caring for a new baby and managed to make each of us feel blessed rather than displaced by the new lives that entered our home. Mom knew how to make nurturing and raising a household of children a team effort, and every one of us felt a strong sense of belonging. I am lucky enough never to have questioned her love and devotion for me, and I am certain my siblings would say the same.

Like my mom, being a mother is the best and most important work I have ever done. I love and will always love it absolutely. Every sacrifice made to nurture my children has been more than worth it; every heartbreak, past and present, is more than compensated by the joy they bring me. In fact, I cannot imagine my life without the amazing young people that fill it so naturally and willingly, reminding me that I will always have a place in their hearts as they do in mine. I hope I am worthy of that honor.

So thanks to my devoted mother and grandmothers, my three handsome-is-as-handsome-does (and they do!) sons and my one-and-only, sweet and lovely daughter. Thanks also to my grandchildren, whom I adore, and my "children-in-law" (Heather and Bobby), who selflessly support and embrace the family. We're glad they belong to us. Most of all, thanks to my husband, who played a fairly significant role in making me the very grateful mother that I am!

I love them all.

And you know what? 

They make it easy.

♥ ♥ ♥

 Thanks for teaching me, Mom.

And for loving me.

{all of us}

You do it well.

∞§∞


TO ALL OF YOU WONDERFUL MOMS OUT THERE 

Yerka - Kitchen Confessional

Between Heaven and Hell, 1989 by Jacek Yerka

Kitchen Confessional

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

My kitchen is perched between heaven and hell,

but it leans in the latter direction.

The dishes I'm cooking are don't ask, don't tell

with abstaining the only protection.

The oven yawns open, though it's on the blink,

as it waits for my latest disaster.

I ought to just chuck the whole thing in the sink

and dispose of the mess that much faster.

But no, I must bake it. The urge is that strong.

Can food go from infern- to supernal?

I'll add Pepto Bismol for luck (am I wrong?)

with a sprinkle of hope springs eternal.

  Others, of course, were not so lucky...

;)

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Delightful Decorations

 

 For me, decorating begins and ends in the kitchen.

That's the heart of the home, after all.

 

 (Although the dining room gets a fair amount of play, too.)

 

 Of course, the whole gang loves to hang out in the family room as well.

 

 It's the perfect place to soak up that old Christmas feeling.

 That being said, I suppose our very best Christmas moments...

 the ones that warm the heart and lift the soul...

 are probably spent in this cozy spot, the living room.

 

 Our family does some pretty good living here.

 Not because our tree is both ridiculous and spectacular.

But because of the best decorations of all...

 the ones we welcome in most gladly.

 

 Our dear young adult friends, adorning the room with love and joy.

{beyond measure}

=)

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Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite!

When I was a young girl, my mother always used to send me off to sleep at night with the phrase, "Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite!" Of course, when I asked her for further details, she explained to me that there were no bed bugs anymore, but that they had once been quite a problem for people. I was glad to hear these pests were a thing of the past, and my only brush with them was as cute cartoon characters with big eyes and shoes.

Sadly, times have changed, and bed bugs are becoming very much a part of the present. It's time for all of us to be aware that these little buggers can hitchhike into our homes in luggage, furniture, bedding, and clothing...and while anyone who travels is at particular risk, no one is immune. A common place to pick them up is in a hotel room (and they are as plentiful in posh hotels as less posh), but the cargo areas in an airplane can expose you, too. Visitors to your home may bring them along with their suitcases or belongings, and clothing ordered online or purchased in a store might be infested as well. (Many people are putting their new clothing in the dryer on high for 30 minutes right away to kill any insects that may be lurking there.) Used furniture can be a problem, too. Bed bugs have also been found in movie theaters, retail stores, office buildings, restaurants, etc.

It's a major issue all over the country, and these pesky little varmints are extremely difficult to eradicate (as in nigh on to impossible). Apparently it is now against the law to use the insecticides that once wiped them out, with frequent and global travel being another factor. At any rate, those who manage to rid themselves of the critters do so at great expense and hours upon hours of cleaning and heating and alcohol wiping of their belongings. Even then, a stray or two can escape and start the whole nightmare all over again. Of course, this is even worse in an apartment building or dorm, where the spread goes easily from unit to unit.

With that in mind, it seems to me that prevention is the way to go. Because my hubby and I will be traveling a lot more now that he's retired, I just purchased a packtite, which is essentially an enclosed heater that kills bedbugs. After each trip, I am placing my luggage in it to make sure I don't bring any little friends into my living space. It wouldn't hurt to have kids who are home from school or travels do the same before bringing their belongings into your house. And why not packtite new clothes, too? It's easy enough to do. It's also easy to check out every hotel room prior to unloading your stuff there––looking behind the bed board, under the mattress, and in the nightstands. If you see any signs of infestation, simply refuse the room and go elsewhere. Better a few minutes of easy prevention than months of eradication effort with no sure success.

Anyway, just wanted to share what I've learned with all of you! Better safe than sorry comes to mind, as does forewarned is forearmed. To say nothing of an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. And maybe even the early bird catches the worm (or bed bug, as the case may be). Enough axioms for you?? Okay. Done!

;)

I'll Be Home for Christmas

I'll be home for Christmas.

You can plan on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe

and presents on the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me

where the lovelight gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas,

if only in my dreams.

I'll be home

for Christmas,

if only

in my dreams.

This beautiful song by Kim Gannon, Walter Kent, and Buck Ram burst into popularity in 1943, and it has always captured my imagination. It's easy to imagine how soldiers and their families, then and now, would warm to the lyrics that remind lonely listeners of home and hearth. Surely nearly everyone can relate to the joy of being home for Christmas...or wanting to be.

This year my entire family will be with us for Christmas, and I am grateful. I hope you enjoyed catching a little glimpse of the Christmas memories in the making that will greet them. We just finished our decorating last night, and I simply cannot wait to welcome them all home.

(pictures by me)

An Old-Fashioned Christmas

I picked up these cute Christmas coasters in Old Town last week while visiting my kids for Thanksgiving. Pretty cute, huh? (And even cuter in person!) They remind me of a good, old-fashioned Christmas, and that makes me happy.

Christmas time is here,
happiness and cheer,
fun for all that children call
their favorite time of year.

Snowflakes in the air,
carols everywhere,
olden times and ancient rhymes
and love and dreams to share.

Sleigh bells in the air;
beauty every where;
yuletide by the fireside
and joyful memories there.

Christmas time is here;
we'll be drawing near;
oh that we could always see
such spirit through the year.

-Vince Guaraldi

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Ubiquitous Collections

The man in my life is often dismayed at my ubiquitous collections of certain household items that I cannot seem to resist. Among these are...

delicious-smelling (preferably spicy) candles,

adorable napkins that I find on sale,

multi-sized flower vases,

aromatherapy plug-ins...antibacterial hand washes,

and various hair products.

I also collect my share of shoes and dangling earrings,

but that's a subject for another day.

I think my husband dislikes the accumulation of hair products least of all. After several uses, I've been known to decide that I don't like the way they make my locks feel or behave. (I am pretty picky about my shampoo and conditioner.) In fact, I regret to say that the cupboards in my bathrooms are filled with barely sampled bottles of unsatisfactory mane-cleansing concoctions, and my darling Dave has taken it upon himself to personally use up as many of these as possible and gift the rest to our children.

I applaud his action, because he is making good use of my cast-offs and avoiding unnecessary waste of perfectly viable products. However, he is now eyeing my napkin supply and threatening to hit my candle cupboard! If he is foolish enough to pursue this course of action, my protestations will be ubiquitous. And so will the consequences...

;)

PS. I will defend my pursuit of ubiquity to the end!

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My Gardener

My Gardener

©1991 Susan Noyes Anderson

My favorite day is Monday.

That’s the day the gardener comes.

I love to watch him pull the weeds

and plant chrysanthemums.

Sometimes he cuts back our front hedge

or prunes my climbing tree.

I watch him out the window,

and he turns and waves at me.

He doesn’t use a broom to sweep.

He uses a machine.

Just like a white tornado,

it blows all our sidewalks clean.

He waves again before he leaves

and hums a happy hum.

(But I wish he’d take his gloves off once

and show me his green thumb!)

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