My Eighty-Year-Old Heros

My mom and dad are 80 and 82. They still drive. They can still think.  

They are a marvel.  My parents are super-heroes.

Daddy is much thinner than he has ever been. He is underweight.

What I did not expect was to have him pick up a plastic bin filled with cookware, weighing at least forty pounds, and haul it into the house like it was nothing. I barely could get the thing up the porch steps, my elbows about to pop apart at any moment.

Mami is hurting more, more than she has ever been. I expected that, with her asthma, COPD, arthritis, and leg pains.

What I did not expect was her running house to house on Halloween with a blond Marilyn Monroe wig on, begging for candy. Okay... maybe I wasn't expecting it, but am I surprised? Not at all.

My Little Sister was the closest relative, living only two doors down from my parents. She has since moved away (I'm thinking running away), and it has been left up to me to be their "go-to" gal.  At first I was wary. Mami can demand a lot of attention. Papi usually doesn't speak at all (especially when Mami is around.)

But as I spend more time with them, I find that I really enjoy their company. There is a camaraderie. I make sure I take time to engage Papi in conversation, not letting Mami cut him off or take over the topic. Soon we are all conversing about world affairs, local news, their childhood memories, grandchildren and much more.

My parents are sentient, they're smart, they're passionate. Their life has been a hard one. They have lived all of their 80 years living way below the poverty line. They showed me that worrying does you no good. That money and  living can be difficult, but manageable even with five kids, a dog, and a parakeet.

They showed us that even without money, one can live a full and rich life, filled with love, without fear, without regret.

I look at them. I feel that there is decades in them yet.  But I know that life has a way of hitting you with the unexpected. My sisters and brother and I are so lucky to have them still.


Update: Six years later, my dear Papi passed away at the age of 88. I am a grateful to be his daughter.

She Needs to Know

I was inspired by the connection we made today when my mother called from Puerto Rico. 

She Needs to Know 

She called wanting to know.  That’s what a Mom needs. 

She needs to know. Everything.

If she can know

then maybe she won’t worry so much. 

She’ll keep connected to the people she loves. 

A connection that cannot possibly ever be severed.

If she knows, maybe she can be there for her child.

Maybe there will be a need to console,

to advise, or to cry with her child. 

Or maybe to cheer, rejoice, congratulate,

or exclaim like the days of old.

But best of all maybe to laugh

and be more than mother and child

and thereby find joint joy.

By knowing, she can imagine

that eyebrow of yours going up,

the glint in your eye when

you’ve made a decision,

the way you look when you’re pensive. 

Her connection is experience.

She needs to know

because she believes she’s the one person

that knows you better than you know yourself.

She imagines the thoughts and emotions running through you.

And feels it with you so far away.

And when She called, I made it light and airy. 

There was nothing new to report

No crisis, no triumphs, a typical cold day.

Much like hers except there’s heat in her day.

Nothing that needed much knowing

No underlying need to role-play mother and child

But I know that She likes to console and feel needed

so I complained of all I had to do.

And she told me to slow down and take it easy.

So we laughed, we talked

Of happy things, listening to the joy

And the harmony within our voices.

Because now I know what She knows

Our ages are far closer than our years

And I know and feel the same need

To be the She, wanting to know.

Leaving His Heartbroken Parents Behind

He's in bed right now. In his own bed, in his old bedroom. His lease was up on his apartment so he moved home for his last two weeks in Michigan. QueenMaker and I get a few more days with our boy before he moves to Chi-town.

This means we will see him less. Visits will be farther apart. Luckily Chicago is not that far away, just a four hour drive. QueenMaker and I are already planning our trips.

He is about to embark in a new adventure. He loves adventure. He loves new experiences.  So the move will be a welcomed change from life in Ann Arbor.  He will explore his new city with gusto and call us with his discoveries.

We get to discover it too. Looking forward to Chicago deep dish pizza, the museums, the aquarium, and whatever else Chicago has to offer.

His dad has voiced it more than I have of late. I think he'll miss his son more than any of us know. So when Beloved packs his belongings into his car and drives away, our hearts will be breaking a little.

Father's Day - The Emotional Roller-coaster Ride of Manhood

Go over to the Spin Cycle. Topic is Father's Day.  Enjoy all the great reads.


Father's Day was a hoot. I know of five arguments that broke out that day. Some serious, some not so serious, but it made for a really weird weekend. It emphasized how stressed out everyone is, especially the men in the family.

I feel sorry for guys sometimes. I was brought up in the "knight in shining armor" era, a fantasy held by many young women of my age. While my man was courting me, I fell in love with him because he was funny, brilliant, and talented. He did so many things well. Maybe that's why I thought he could fix anything and everything. Geez, wasn't he a husband and dad, a man ready to take on all problems and solve them.

Men come home to the news that a pipe busted, the refrigerator stopped working, the car broke down, or the sewer backed up. Then all eyes in his loving family look to him to fix it.

"What do you mean you don't know what you are doing? You're A Man."

And if you don't have the extra cash to pay for large repairs, men will get down and dirty and learn by doing, bitching and swearing all the way, coming up for air, red-faced, venting about the hour they just spent trying to dislodge a part that just won't budge.

We learn that they are as vulnerable and as fallible as we are. When reality pushed my fantasy aside, I realized we were in it together.  Together sounded good, fair and even empowering. How fair was it for me to think he could fix everything that went wrong in my life, just because he was the lead man in the family?

I realized that most men are really just the boys their mamas and daddys raised. Men need their women just as much as women need their men. In the beginning, we are all just inexperienced grown up kids before we become wise old farts.

Father's Day is usually a very nice day with events celebrating all the dads in our family. This weekend was an exception. It was a very weird weekend.

My brother-in-law picked a fight with my sister because, well, it was Father's Day.

My other brother-in-law picked a fight with my other sister, because, it was Father's Day.

My mother-in-law and her son, my husband, exchanged a few heated words. It was about to become a full emotional blow out but luckily cooler heads prevailed when the subject was changed. They let it go.

I thought I was going to have an argument with my hubby, when I told him he should apologize to his mum. But he would have nothing to do with it. He refused to budge on his position and I really couldn't argue with him, because he was basically right. Argument averted. Yeah.

My brother-in-law tried again and decided to pick a fight with the rest of his extended family via email accusing us of not doing enough in the care of our elders. We did not take the bait.

As my generation gets older, new responsibilities begin to emerge. As our parents age or pass away, sons everywhere are endowed with the title of Head of the Family. It's is a hard one to resolve sometimes, I suspect. I also suspect that the enormity of that bring men in any family down.

For some, this is the first year without their dads.

Several with mothers with latter stages of depression, Alzheimer's, and lung disease. Without adequate funds and no females family members, it's sometimes hard to cope emotionally with the highly personal task of caregiver and all that the job entails. They are stuck and want to escape, but can't.

So Father's Day, a day celebrating men and fatherhood. This particular Father's Day was a day full of problems with the women in their lives. They don't want the title of being patriarch of the family, that belonged to their dear departed fathers. There is a lot of guilt, stress and melancholy when dealing with their moms. They have to step in and take over the roles of their fathers, becoming their mothers' advocates, care-giver, financial advisor, and sometimes, her companion.

Stressed out fathers? Yes.
Feel like celebrating Father's Day today.  No.

Lots of Love There - Mother's Day Number 22

A sublime day.  The day came together in a lovely, almost poetic way.

Maybe it was the fact that I was able to pull off four days straight of uninterrupted sleep.  If this streak keeps up, mental agility and fortitude may return full force.  Always enjoy mental, chemical, joint, and muscular harmony.

Mother's Day.

The sun shined all day.  A mood enhancer for sure.

Took my mother to church. Every pew filled to bursting. Because my hearing is highly attuned today,  my mind is concentrating on the sounds of church. I close my eyes and listen.  There are so many layers of sounds and I listen to the undercurrent.  The sounds of children, the pre-schoolers, the toddlers, and babies hum throughout the mass.  And many times rise above the mass.

I open my eyes and search for them.  I don't have far to look because the pews are filled with them.  Some churches sequester their children to other parts of the church lest they disturb.  But in this church every child is held high by their parents.  Lots of love there. The children's small heads rest on their parent's shoulder. I try to discern boy toddler to girl toddler ratio, but give that up right away.  I'm glad that they are there.  Without them the place is stoic.

After church, Beloved and QueenMaker come by to visit with my mom.  Lots of love as grandmother hugs a grandson she's missed so much.   It makes me so happy to witness the massive amounts of love my child receives and better yet how much he gives in return.  

Beloved is here and now my Mother's Day begins anew.  He will be with us the rest of the day, no matter how long the day.  My heart is filling up.

The three of us together again.  Dad, Mom, Son.  A quiet peaceful comfort descends upon us.  On the ride to my mother in law's house, we reconnect as a family.  The two-wheeler becomes the tricycle again.  

QueenMaker is making dinner for his mom and I am helping him in the kitchen.  Beloved is visiting with his grandparents in the next room.  Lots of love there.

Breaded pork country ribs, salad, baked potatoes, a sauteed vegetable medley that included onions, asparagus, red and yellow peppers, zucchini, carrots, and lacinato kale.  Dessert was homemade pecan pie.  It was awesome.  Lots of love there.  Okay mostly in one direction as we devour it all.

We end the evening by watching Jeremy Brett in Sherlock Holmes.  I ABSOLUTELY LOVE this series.

On the ride home we talk about martial arts, chinese philosophy, and the western mindset.  The college student actually had an interesting conversation with his parents.  

The best gift my son gave me today and every time we get to spend time together as a family, is when he says, "Today was a good day." or   "I always feel so relaxed when I'm with you guys." or  "I miss our time together so much sometimes."  

A Mother's Day that fills the soul.

Will the Real Me, Please Stand Up, Please Stand Up

It's supposed to be about ME.  Jen at Sprite"s Keeper assignment was to write something about myself.

Well after years of living with me, I've finally realized a few things.  I can tell you who I was.  I guess I'm pretty much the same person, expect a little wiser, a little more retrospect, a lot less angst.

ME, ME, Me, Me, Me, me, me.  


See that little me there at the end of the line.  That's the me I like to be.  Hopefully no one will notice me.  At least not too much.  It rare to be the middle me, but that is who I play most of the day. The big me, no way, no how. Okay, maybe when I'm really mad, then big Scary ME comes out.  But is there a big vivacious ME? No.  I like the middle, balance you know.

I'm a lazy woman but only when it comes to housework.  Give me a project, work assignment, a job doing for others, cleaning someone else's home and I'm a dynamo. I'm an overachiever. I'll go beyond  the call of duty. I'll think of every contingency, complete the task in lightening speed, stay until its done or obliterate every speck of dust.

Apparently I am in need of a lot of approval.  I guess I do need to be noticed, and I get it through the work I do.  It seems I need people to say good job, great presentation, the house never looked better. See that, I redirected your gaze at my work, not at me.  Good job.

Here is one example of things I won't do for myself but will for someone else.

Like most women my age, I should lose weight.  I should get more exercise.  I want to be a healthier, a stealthier me. But will I do that for myself?  No, it's not convenient right now.  I don't feel it right now. I don't have the motivation the drive. All the excuses or permissions I give myself not to work out.

Well now I am dog-sitting Smokey.  And guess what?  Smokey usually lives with my 80 year old parents, so I know he doesn't get the exercise he needs to burn off  extra energy or to keep healthy.  So in my quest to do a great job, to do for someone or something else, to prove that I am the best dog-sitter in the world, Smokey walks every day for a mile and a half and we walk fast.

Every. Single. Effin. Day.  And we both reap the benefits.

So me apparently needs to be needed to be the best me I can.

Now give yourself a hug and go to Sprite's Keeper to read more wonderful ME stories

Happy Birthday Sis

Sister After Me is having a birthday today.  She is now officially 50 years old.

And a mother of a five-year-old.

She is also the mother of a 31 year-old daughter and a 29 year-old son.

And a grandmother of four, ages 14, 4, 2, and six months.

My memories of her go all the way back to the crib we shared, when exchanging or stealing her bottle was a favorite past time of mine.   When she was little, whenever she got mad, her hands became tightly clenched fists, her arms stiff by her sides. She loved mischief.  She loved fun.  She was always up for the challenge.

Boys adored her from the moment they saw her, five "boyfriends" in kindergarten was just the start.

Since she was a small child, she was always saving animals in distress. That crazy woman chasing a dog around on the freeway trying to grab it before it got hit by a car, that was probably her.

Although I was older, by one year, she was always the one I looked to for comfort, for confidence, for allegiance, and more often than not getting it.  I sometimes wished that she needed me as much as I needed her.

She is a person that believes that you get out of life what you put into it.  Karma is big on her list.  She is very health conscious, always reading and learning how to be healthier in body, mind, and the spirit.  She wants everyone around her to feel fulfilled, to feel balanced, to take things in stride, to be happy. And if you can't be happy, to find solace.  She makes the effort to plant that seed.

At her younger daughter's preschool graduation, she turned to me and said, "I am so thankful because I am here.  I get to do a re-do.  I wasn't able to appreciate as fully as I do now my role as a mom.  Being a single mom, I always felt sorry that I wasn't there as often for my older two.  I was too young.  My work took me away. But this time I get a re-do.  I can give my youngest the home, the attention, a family that has a mom and dad, some stability in her life. I get another chance, a re-do.  I'm very blessed."

Her life has been filled with many highs and lows. And I'm not sure she will ever know the stability that she strives for in her life.  I know she is a "master juggler." No matter how often life gives her another ball to juggle, she will be able to do it.

As a 50th birthday present, she is giving herself this year. This year is for her, for her health, for her happiness, for her indomitable spirit.  My wish is to  help her celebrate this Year of Me.

Happy Birthday, Evie.   I love you.

Seven Weeks of Smokey

Seven more weeks. Smokey is staying with us while Mom and Dad are sunning themselves in the Caribbean, really going back to their childhood homes.  This is Smokey, the most chill dog ever.  I don't believe in endowing animal with human traits, but he is...

the most patient, loving, comically endearing dog, such a character.  Perfect for my parents who are in their 80's.

QueenMaker and I had dogs when we were children, but we never owned one during our married life.  The whole family decided that we were just too busy to give a dog the quality of life it deserved.  So its been 40 years since a dog has graced our lives.

I would never volunteer to take care of a dog, but for some reason, Smoky loves me.  He adores me.  Maybe it's because every time I visit, Smokey gets a complete doggy massage.  I look at that fur and I immediately feel the itch.  So I figure he must too.  That is why he loves me.  I'm way too empathetic.

So I mentioned that I may, possibly, give some thought, ask hubby first, not sure, but thinking about it, on the fence about taking him. That means its a done deal to my Mom.

Every maybe hints at possibility.  Possibility means a potential positive outcome.  So every maybe means a positive and even enthusiastic Yes! to my mom.  She will always say, "But you said..."  I didn't want to disappoint her.

So we have Smokey for seven weeks.  You never know what to expect from a dog that doesn't belong to you.  But he is true to character.  With a big sigh of relief for me and especially to hubby, the dog shows great self control.  It's as though he has always been here.

Today, I swear he did a seven take.  We confused him, momentarily.  First I saw the double take, then the quad, then a seven take!  It was simply awesome.

So I'm beginning to feel like a "mommy blogger,"  okay more like a beloved auntie with a nephew visiting for a month or so. He's becoming our little bundle of joy, waiting for us, greeting us with so much love and enthusiasm, reveling in our affection, wanting to play.

And he can stand on his hind legs forever too.



 

The Kindest Eyes

I've been thinking about my nephew lately. He lives in California. I keep seeing his face.  About a year ago, he was here for a visit and during an anniversary party we had an opportunity to sit down and talk with him.  We miss him very much.  

QueenMaker said, “Will has the most kindest eyes I have ever seen.  Did you notice when he’s speaking to people, his eyes are always gentle and full of kindness.  What a great young man.”

To my nephew:

When a good soul comes along

It makes the world brighter

He’s good nature, helpful, and full of love

The glass is always full, his smile always shining

When he talks, he talks about family

The bonds of joy, the ties between us

He gathers us to him, his eyes singing his love

He wants and needs to know what we know

We watch him, his manner infectious

We smile because he smiles

We laugh because he laughs

We love because he loves so much

And when he listens, he listens with his whole being

With the most gentle eyes ever expressed

With the fullest of kindness that reaches deep

And when you speak and look into his eyes, 

your beings meet, talking soul to soul. 

Come visit us soon.  

Silent Parents - An Enigma

Silent parents, standing back, blending in the background, watching their children.  Patiently waiting without opinion in their eyes, without interference, or suggestion. There was no boredom, no tension, no emotion at all.  A decision was being made and they were totally not part of the process.  They didn't factor into the equation at all.

I saw this image four times in the same store, a big chain music store.  I walked into the drum room of the store.  A young boy of twelve was trying out a set displayed on the floor.  He went from one drum set to another, his concentration on the feel of each set.  His mother stood to the side, and just looked.... just looked like what?  I didn't recognize that look. Was it resignation?  Didn't look like it.

Then I walked into the piano room.  An even younger boy of nine or ten was playing, his mother standing close behind him.  I was impressed.  He was good.  He moved to the next piano, checking the action of the keys before playing another tune. She had the same expression on her face as the mom in the drum room. When I walked in to investigate who was playing, she looked up. I half expected to see a prideful smile, then I thought she might look annoyed at me for the intrusion, but her face showed no expression at all. Interesting.

The same thing in the guitar area.  A father stood silently behind his son as the son tried out several of the electric guitars.  Wow, this is not a look I am used to seeing.  Another father was watching his son of fourteen in the acoustic guitar room.

No involvement, no intrusion in their child's search for an instrument.  Because an instrument must be found my its owner, right?  No one outside can make the decision for an artist, especially for the talented young people I heard today.  The parents stood to the side as though they were wallpaper.

I realized that there was something else missing.  I didn't see the seeking of approval from the kids.  They never looked up at their parent like most kids do, the whole "look at me, mommy" or "isn't this cool." I was waiting for it, but it didn't come. Interaction between parent and child were nil, the child in deep concentration, the parent purposely looking on dispassionately. I figured that the kids must be here with Christmas money and didn't want or need their parents input. But it seemed to be more than that. I usually have a good sense of reading people's expressions, but I couldn't figure this one out.

Was it more that this was a realm that could not be shared? Was the patient parent just waiting for their child to emerge? Was it a learned response from years of conditioning by the child?

It was a puzzlement.