“I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
Sending love and light on Valentine’s Day with a quote from one of my all time favorite rom-coms, Notting Hill. (Click on the title to see that clip of the film.)
Art credit to https://www.facebook.com/WorldofLovehearts
Embrace your “hygge” (pronounced hoo-ga).
This word has been showing up everywhere so I needed to discover what’s it all about.
Hygge is a Danish word and concept that means creating a warm atmosphere and the enjoyment of simple pleasures..
The warm glow of candlelight is hygge; a mug of ginger tea is hygge; fresh sheets still warm out of the dryer is hygge.
It means creating a world of restorative self care and well-being, especially being outdoors in nature, to deeply feel the beauty of a sunset, not to merely look, but to see.
For me, spending time with the Angels is the ultimate hygge, especially if we’re at the beach or when we bake or read together, or when I’m lucky enough to spot a dolphin or a whale. Or a coyote.
It also means mindful appreciation of cozy socks when it’s cold.
Right now hygge is watching the torrential rain through the window; grateful for being indoors, warm and dry.
Not too long ago, the Angel Kids’ parents went to a social function. They weren’t too happy about Mom and Dad leaving because they rarely do, but as soon as the door closed, everything was OK ‘cos Grandma was there.
The kids have a solid bedtime routine: bath, night snack, brush teeth, read, and sleep. After their baths and a bowl of yogurt and applesauce, teeth were brushed and we snuggled together for reading time, my favorite part.
We began with a book for Angel Girl about a ballerina who loves to wear sparkly tiaras. I was peppered with questions and comments, “You love to wear a tiara, don’t you, Grandma!” “I have a sparkly tiara, too.” After her book, she turned on her side, clutching her stuffed unicorn, ready to drift off to sleep.
When it was time to read to Angel Boy, Dad had kindly left me with a chapter book they were halfway through, and I planned to read to the lovely child who was curled up against me.
I wasn’t prepared for what came next…and I can genuinely say that it was one of the happiest moments of my entire life…
“Hey, Grandma, how about if I read to YOU this time instead of YOU reading to ME?”
That had NEVER happened before. He’s gifted in math, but reading was sometimes frustrating for him, totally unlike his dad, who was an early and brilliant reader. T tested at grade level in school, but it wasn’t with the joy that reading brings to our lives. I always told him that reading was the gateway to the world. In my opinion, reading is EVERYTHING.
So of course I said that would be the most wonderful idea EVER in the history of wonderful ideas.
He read four chapters of his book while I watched; eagle-eyed, to observe (scrutinize) his reading prowess as a second grader, and his ability to successfully sound out words that weren’t familiar. The best part was that he didn’t want to stop reading; he wanted to keep going, but he was so tired, he agreed to finish the book the next day.
I was absolutely blown away, not only by his skills, but the way he read with humor and expression.
“Did you like that, Grandma? I knew you would because you love reading so much.”
“T, I am so incredibly proud of you! C is too, and we both loved to hear you read. How did it make you feel to read to US?”
“Grandma, I was reading and the words were like, just in my head as I saw them, and I couldn’t believe it, they came out so fast!”
At that moment, I think I almost squeezed the very life out of him, and I was more than grateful to be able to experience his “lightbulb” moment where everything clicked into place.
“T, that is what’s called REAL READING! I told you it would happen soon, where words you see instantly translate from your eyes to your brain — and you totally GOT IT!”
“I wanted to make you happy, Grandma.”
And he did. That was an understatement!
T whispered, “I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too, so, so much. See you in the morning for buckwheat pancakes!” I whispered back to him.
For me, this definitely qualifies as a memorable, momentous watershed event.
I feel like I’m the luckiest grandma in the whole world.
If this is a crystal ball vision of 2024, I’m cheerfully apprehensive (or apprehensively cheerful) about what the next twelve months may bring…
Do you remember the Grimm fairytale, The Frog Prince? It’s about a princess who befriends a frog who was really a prince that had been turned into a frog by an evil witch. The princess’s transformative love was the remedy to break the spell.
I’m in the middle of living a real-life version of this story, but I have some basic issues that seem to be obstacles in the way of fulfilling this enchanted experience.
For the last few days, I’ve been hearing a frog croaking in the garden and every time I do, I run outside and try to find him. So far, I’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful.
The croaking seems to emanate from the lower hill that’s covered in a mass of California native plants and I simply can’t locate my frogprince, no matter how hard I try.
Maybe it’s some kind of weird, bizarre twin flame scenario; the more I chase, the more he runs away. Maybe I need to take a deep breath and allow him to come to me. What do you think?
He’s out there right now, beckoning me with his hypnotic, sexy croaking, and I can’t, not for the life of me, track him down.
It’s important to note that this is a highly unusual occurrence; we don’t normally have frogs around this mostly drought-y part of the world and I have heard them so infrequently that I can’t even remember when the last time there WAS a frog around here.
If you could see me running around the garden from one spot to another, you’d have serious doubts about my mental state, and I’d have to nod my head and agree with you.
Why is my prince hiding from me? I am a princess, after all…
While I’m waiting for my frog/prince transformation, here’s what I learned about the spiritual meaning of frogs…
🐸 Frogs symbolize water and land. They help to connect us with the natural world and our intuitive side. They have the power to transform, mature, and renew the soul.
🐸 A frog’s ability to transition from one element to another — depending on its environment — represents change and transformation, rebirth, and evolution.
🐸 Frogs are symbols of new beginnings and creativity because they hatch from eggs and emerge into the world as tiny tadpoles.
🐸 A frog’s spiritual meaning is associated with fertility, good luck, prosperity, money, transformation, new beginnings, love, and the Moon (due to its close connection with water).www.thepeculiarbrunette.com/frog-symbolism-spiritual-meaning/
🐸 Croaking is usually associated with mating and is used by males to attract females, although some frog species croak to mark their territory or indicate their presence. Frogs may also croak because they feel worried or stressed, warning other frogs around them.
I hope to discover what sort of magic is needed to find and befriend my froggy visitor for our very own happily-ever-after.
If you see me kissing a frog, don’t say a word, OK?
🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸
“Grandmama, can I have this?”
We’ve all heard the proverb, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” and I’m proud to say my DNA of hoarding and obsession for shiny baubles is alive and well and thriving in this next generation.
When they find something around here that they want/need, these Angel Kids call me Grandmama. I love that extra syllable. I AM a mom and a grandma, so it works.
They like to inspect every room like a couple of CSI forensic detectives, searching for whatever might strike their fancy among my little treasures, along with an extraordinary ability to suss out anything new that’s been added since their last visit, like my penguin box.
I especially like that they ASK and don’t simply TAKE. It really makes all the difference.
“Grandmama, can I have this sparkly box?”
“Yes.”
“I want one too, can I have THIS one?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have this Hello Kitty bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have these pearls?”
“Yes.”
(We’re not talking about my real pearls, just a couple strands of fake ones and some pearls used in jewelry making.)
At some point in the day, they opened a closet and discovered my crafty area with shelves of boxes and drawers full of polished rocks and seashells and gems and beach glass and sparkly beads.
“Grandmama, can we have some?”
“Yes.”
Between the two of them, there was a wild feeding frenzy. They sat on the floor, their individual piles of loot growing and growing.
“OMG, LOOK AT THE GEMS!”
“Can I have the blue ones?”
“Can I have the green ones?”
“Look you guys, I’ll find containers for each of you and yes, you can take what you want. All I ask is that you work together and don’t argue about who takes what. Compromise and share. Do we have a deal?”
OK, Grandmama, we can do that. Even the big pearls?
“Yes, even those.”
“DAD, GRANDMAMA SAID WE CAN BRING ALL OF THE TREASURES HOME!”
As happy as that makes those Angel Kids, I wonder if they have any idea at all how happy it makes ME to be able to make THEM deliriously happy.
A total win-win. DNA RULES!
There is truly no greater joy than to have my sweet yet scarily precocious Angels in their car seats as we drive down to the beach, windows down, all of us belting out Karma by Taylor Swift.
They pay no attention to the fact that I can’t carry a tune; we’re nodding our heads and singing along with Apple music. “Play it again, Grandma!”
“Karma is my boyfriend.”
“I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn’t know what I mean…”
(Picture us mimic sweeping with our hands.)
“Karma is a cat…Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me.”
“Me and karma are like THAT.”
“Karma takes all my friends to the summit.”
“Karma’s gonna track you down Step by step from town to town.”
Like Taylor changed the lyrics to her bf’s name, I also change the words in this line…
“Karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me.”
to
“Karma is my two favorite kids coming straight home to me.”
Time spent with these Angel Kids is a neverending tapestry of shared joyful memories, including singing with tone deaf Grandma.
“Play it again, Grandma!” And I did.
I only recently learned how deep was the life of love between former President Jimmy Carter and Rosalynn, and so profound that his mother was the nurse that assisted in delivering Rosalynn. This was an inevitable destiny.
Said President Carter, “Rosalynn was my equal partner in everything I ever accomplished. She gave me wise guidance and encouragement when I needed it. As long as Rosalynn was in the world, I always knew somebody loved and supported me.”
In October 2019, Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, became the longest-married presidential couple in American history, and this July marked their 77th—and final—wedding anniversary together. Rosalynn died on November 19, 2023, at age 96.
The hometown sweethearts’ seven-decade relationship saw them travel from their rural roots to the highest office in the land and beyond. Even in their final months together, as Jimmy entered hospice care in February 2023 and Rosalynn eventually joined him, the pair was there to support each another.
Jimmy and Rosalynn came from Plains, Georgia, a town of 600 people. Born in 1924—the first president to be born in a hospital—James Earl “Jimmy” Carter Jr. was the eldest of James and Bessie “Lillian” Carter’s four children. James was a successful local businessman and Lillian was a nurse.
Edgar and Allie Smith were neighbors of the Carters, and in the summer of 1927, Lillian helped deliver their first child, Eleanor Rosalynn. Jimmy, then a three-year-old, and newborn Rosalynn met just a couple days later for the first time.
Although Rosalynn had known Jimmy all her life, it wasn’t until 1945 that romance blossomed. She was a freshman at Georgia Southwestern College. Jimmy, following stints at that same school and the Georgia Institute of Technology, was entering his final year at Annapolis.
When Jimmy returned home that summer, Jimmy spotted his sister and Rosalynn walking down the street and impulsively asked her to the movies, after which the two shared their first kiss. Jimmy was immediately smitten after their first date, and told his mother that he had met his future wife.
The whirlwind courtship continued when they both returned to school, and that winter, Jimmy proposed. Initially concerned about how fast the relationship was moving and wishing to finish college first, Rosalynn said no. But Jimmy persisted, and when Rosalynn visited Annapolis that spring, they became engaged. The couple married on July 7, 1946, just weeks after Jimmy’s graduation.
In 1962, he won a seat in the Georgia State Senate, and subsequently became governor in 1970s. Rosalynn campaigned tirelessly on her husband’s behalf. Jimmy’s victory saw her take on a new role as Georgia’s first lady, where she began working on causes she championed for the rest of her life, including mental health. Rosalynn became first lady when Jimmy Carter became president in 1976, Rosalynn was the first presidential spouse to have her own office in the East Wing. She sat in on Cabinet meetings, advised on staff and personnel moves, served as an envoy on overseas trips, and joined former first ladies in the unsuccessful effort to pass the Equal Rights Amendment. So closely aligned were the couple that Jimmy referred to Rosalynn, who he’d nicknamed Rosa, as a “perfect extension of himself.”
After President Carter lost re-election in 1980, they moved back to Georgia and continued farming peanuts, as well as supporting global humanitarian efforts, through both the Carter Center and their work with Habitat for Humanity, through which they built more than 4,000 homes around the world. In 2002, Jimmy was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his decades of work supporting democracy and human rights.
In all their years together, the couple also had time to prepare for their eventual final goodbye. Back when Jimmy was being treated for cancer, they created a fitting plan: Both of them will be buried under a willow tree on the grounds of their house in Plains, where their stories began.
They have spent their final months together at home. If ever two people are an inspiring example of the enduring love of true life partners, it’s Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter.
Curated from https://www.biography.com/political-figures/jimmy-rosalynn-carter-love-story
This poem by Athey Thompson reminds me of the book I like so much, The Bowl of Light… https://enchantedseashells.com/2022/12/15/what-im-reading-the-bowl-of-light/
She held within her hands A forever glowing light Filled with love O how it shined so bright And everywhere she did go Whether it be near or far She left a little Of her delicate, loving light For everyone’s Delight - Athey Thompson
In my own little rose-colored fantasy world, I wish I was wearing a sheer gossamer gown with butterfly wings so that I could share love and sparkles with all the flowers.
At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.
As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.
Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”
It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”
I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”
He blinked and looked at me.
I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”
He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)
“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”
He laughed and I did, too.
It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.
“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”
It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.
Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”
“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”
She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.
“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”
It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.
No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.
It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 