Happy Mother’s Day To My Son

Vintage Angel Boy

Vintage Angel Boy

Because, of course, without him, I wouldn’t have a Mother’s Day at all.

This was brought to my attention one year by my facetious brilliant child who remarked that in fact, HE should be the one who garners all the attention, because without HIM, I’d have nothing to celebrate.

I thought about it and he’s right and the day belongs to my Angel Boy.

I’ve enjoyed thirty-four years of receiving gifts and presents and all the little things that go along with this one day set aside to recognize mothers; handmade cards and macaroni hearts (I’ve kept them all) and coupon books for hugs and dishwashing (still waiting to collect on a few of those.)

Now that our nest is empty and I don’t wake up to a sweet little boy snuggling in bed with me; that embodiment of Mother’s Day with every smile and giggle, there’s only one thing I desire, and this is true of a lot of other empty nest moms I’ve talked to.

Wikipedia

Wikipedia

What do we want?

TIME!

When do we want it?

NOW!

My cell phone rang and the little screen flashed “Angel Boy”, which always makes me verrry happy, because as much as texts and emails facilitate instant communication, there’s really no good substitute for hearing my only child’s voice.

Me: “Was ist los, mein Kinde?”

(That’s pretty much my entire body of knowledge of German, which is Angel Boy’s Ph.D.; Germanic Languages and Literatures)

Him: Hi, Mom.”

Me: “To what do I owe the honor of an actual telephone call?”

Him: “What do you want for Mother’s Day?”

(By unspoken agreement, this query includes my birthday, which is either ON Mother’s Day or within a few days of it.)

Me: “YOU know what I want.”

“It’s that little four-letter word. It’s what I always want. Say it.”

Him: “You want TIME, right?”

Me: “Yup, that’s it. I want YOU. I want time BEING with you. I want to spend TIME with you.”

“Don’t buy me any THING. What I want is priceless.”

And that’s the truth.

Ever since he left SoCal to pursue his lofty academic goals mostly on the East coast, TIME has become a precious commodity.

Now I know why my mom counseled me to spend every second, every minute — with my child, because she knew that once they grow up and fly away, all you’ll be left with is memories.

That’s why I got up at 4 a.m. and did as much housework as possible before he woke up so that every minute could be spent caring for him, playing with him — just BEING with my Angel Boy without having to say, “in a minute” or “not now, I’m busy.”

If I had to give advice to mom nowadays, I’d tell them to spend more precious time being present in their children’s lives, and spend a whole lot less time on their electronic devices.

Because one day, their children will be gone, and you’ll regret the hours you spent on Facebook.

Although I’m not seeing my Angel Boy ON Mother’s Day, he planned a camping/hiking trip for us in a couple of weeks, and that’s when I’ll bask in the glow of TIME.

I can’t wait.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

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IT’S RAINING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA!!!!

It started raining in the middle of the night, so hard it woke me up.

Rain, wind, five inches of snow in our local mountains — is this May or is it December?

I was worried about my little hummingbird and her full nest.

How would they weather the storm?

First thing this morning, I looked out the kitchen window and there she is, swaying back and forth on the hummingbird wind chimes under the eaves, safe and dry.

See the rain coming down? What a smart mom to choose a home that’s protected from the elements and allows her to survey the entire back yard.

hummyMay8rainHumans can learn a lot about good parenting from other species.HummyMay7

There is no more important job than caring for her young.

Soon enough, they’ll hatch and grow and fly away, leaving her with that empty nest she worked so hard to build.

Maybe that’s what her tiny little hummingbird mind ponders as she sits there hour after hour.

And I know exactly how she feels.

SIGH.

What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?

For this #MothersDay, I’m honored to welcome a special guest poster on Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife…my very own daughter-in-law, or as we fondly refer to her, DIL. I know you’ll love this post as much as I do. Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
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What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?

As we sit 20,000 feet up in seats 1C, 1D, & 1E, our little team can almost exhale as we head home from Boston to San Diego.

Rewind ten days.

What would you do at 4:00 a.m. when you’re terrified in the Emergency Room. Your husband is in agony. The surgeons’ don’t know what’s up and the pain meds aren’t working?

You call family.

Nobody wants to make that call. I knew that waking up MIL in the middle of the night to tell her that her Angel Boy was in the Emergency Room hooked up to morphine 3000 miles away would put the ice-cold, fear-of-God in her.

I took a deep breath and dialed. When she did not pick up I knew the panic she would feel when I called again right after.

No one wants to see their DIL’s number twice in a row in the middle of the night.

When I got through I told her calmly what was happening. I could hear the panic in her voice but she responded exactly as a mother should. She said that she was on her way. Not just hopping in the car or on the bus. She was booking tickets to fly across the country without a moment’s thought. I knew that I had opened them to that sick pain and fear I was feeling – but it had made me feel better. I knew whatever was coming I did not have to face it alone. And that’s what good mothers do. They take on your pain, so you can feel better.

From then on, I counted the hours until they arrived. Literally. I did not leave AB’s side until they got there and I knew another loved one could watch over him.

It had been fifteen hours in the hospital without even a cuppa. I had screamed, cried, fought, and begged every RN, CRN, resident, consultant, physician, surgeon, radiologist, you name it. But now I knew I had some people on my team.

Team AB.

The next ten days after the surgery went by on auto-pilot. I’m convinced Team AB drove the whole floor nuts. We were on their ass 24/7 – from wash clothes, to walks, to IV, to test, results, more CTs — we did not stop for a moment to breathe.

But me and MIL were on the same team, working together, side by side, to make sure our AB got better.

It’s true when they say you have to laugh or you’ll cry. Too true! In amongst all of the drama and fear we belly laughed. I mean really laughed. Even when Jason’s roommate “One Tooth Tommy’s” girlfriend overdosed him on her street Xanex. Or or when I got some sympathy gas in the canteen in front of a table of young cute residents.

The day AB was getting discharged, I woke up and I looked over in our hotel room to see MIL sleeping and next to her an empty glass of wine, vodka tonic, and the remains of my Cosmo. What can I say? It had been one of those weeks.

And now as we head home to San Diego, it could not be more perfect that tomorrow is Mother’s Day.

Because it’s definitely time to celebrate MIL.

When an emergency hits – it comes out of nowhere and the whole world stops.

Everything is stripped back and you see people for who they really are.

Raw.

What we saw this week was the purest and selfless love of a mother.

AB, you are lucky to have such a mom.

And I am lucky to have a friend, a partner in crime, and the best MIL you could wish for!

Happy Mother’s Day!

 

 

 

 

Hello Kitty Is My Soul Sister: Princess Rosebud’s Hello Kitty Birthday Party

Taking my son to the airport after a fun week of Mother’s Day and birthday celebrations, he says in that snarky tone he’s perfected after thirty-two years,

“What’s the deal with you and Hello Kitty?”

Hello Kitty 4My tugboat man, who also serves as my HK enabler ‘cos he thinks I’m adorable – uh, note to single girls — only marry a guy if he thinks everything you do is adorable — responded,

“Hello Kitty is for girly girls and your mom is one-thousand-percent girly girl.”

Well said, my captain, well said.

I’ve thought a lot about the reasons why I’m so drawn to Hello Kitty and I think it’s ‘cos she’s like my pretend soul sister.

HKwatchThe Urban Dictionary defines soul sister as “someone who fully understands you.”

Yup, that’s about right.

I’m not sure if I can pinpoint the exact moment when I first became aware of Hello Kitty.

With a son, it was never really on my radar as he was growing up. Shelves full of dinosaurs and skateboards were the aisles we aimed for at Toys R Us. We dug in the dirt; not so much matching dresses or spa days for us.

hello kitty pajamas and slippers

Sexxxyyy!!

I guess it was more of a gradual appeal;  a (grown-up) friend wore a Hello Kitty watch and I was drooling — drawn to the Swarovski crystals surrounding HK’s face and I HAD to get my own; I walked by a Hello Kitty display at Target (great point of purchase placement)…

OR

…maybe it was always hovering in my subconscious, fermenting and fomenting—until one day I succumbed.

hellokittycupI was hooked.

I fell in love with that adorable mouthless face. One watch led to a ring and to a matching bracelet and then slippers, and OMG the cutest hat with an anchor! (!!!! had to have it, right? It was a nautical theme)hkhat

OK, most people associate HK with little girls, but did you know that there is a secret society of adult women who collect HK?

More often than not, when I wear my HK tee-shirt, I’ll be approached by women I do not know,

Princess Rosebud wearing glasses.

Princess Rosebud wearing glasses.

“Pssst…excuse me” [pointing to my shirt]…do you collect?”

It’s like the Skull and Bones society for women “of a certain age.” Haha.

I confess: I’m an ADULT COLLECTOR of HK. Recently at the Baltimore Airport during a layover, a Southwest employee saw my HK watch and struck up a convo about her collection that includes the HK toaster, which I really need. Really.

We were whispering, “Are you one of us?” “Yes, tell me what you have” and we each listed the items in our collection.

There we were, two college graduated women of adult children — I am not kidding. It was surreal. I mean, who wants to talk about the depressing economy or the strange weather? BORING! Hello Kitty is a sweet, innocent diversion that makes us happy. What could be wrong with that?

Since I really can’t for the life of me logically explain the appeal,  I wanted to explore the psychology of adult women who are obsessed with  enamored of HK and thought someone should write their dissertation about the marketing genius of this huge pink kitty head with a bow. And sparkles.

I discovered a WordPress blog that seems to be a dissertation of sorts; check out http://hellokittydevotee.wordpress.com/dissertation/

BTW, HK is worth about FIVE BILLION DOLLARS yearly in licensing. And finally the ultimate…did you know that HK teamed up with one of Taiwan‘s biggest airlines? What a great experience–a Hello Kitty extravaganza; from meals to mascots to boarding passes.
hellokittyairlines2hellokittyairlines

HKparty1Which might in some small way explain the excitement I felt for my very first Hello Kitty Birthday Party! I’m not going to tell you how old I am; does it REALLY matter? I think not.

We spent the morning and early afternoon hiking Crystal Cove State Park (read about that HERE). When we returned home, hubs was exhausted and immediately fell asleep.

So much for that birthday cake he was sposed to make.

chocolatecoconuticecream

Chocolate Coconut Ice Cream

I threw together a One-Bowl Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Fudge Frosting and Chocoate Coconut Ice Cream.

The cake was out of the oven and cooling before he woke up. Figures, right? If you want something done, ya gotta do it yourself. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

I challenged my tugboat man and my son to create dinner all by themselves. OK. We’re talking a Ph.D. Yale professor and a maritime academy graduate with a BS in Engineering.

Two smart, functional, adult men, right?

OMG, watching them write a grocery list and take off to the store offered tons of fun.

“Mom, do you have jicama? Mom, where’s a knife?” “Rosebud, can you chop this onion for me? Uh — how do you chop cilantro?”

I kept looking up recipes on my computer because I felt sorry for them.

Birthday barbecue

Hubs chose to make Mango Salsa with Blue Corn Chips for his appetizer; my son’s contribution was a Jicama Kumquat Salad. It was delicious.

I thought it’d be a good idea to barbecue because I had a feeling the kitchen was going to take me a week to clean up. This was a smart decision. We had potatoes, asparagus, beets (from the garden), corn, Smart Dogs, and it was all absolutely yummy.

Best of all, it was made with love.

HKparty2

keep-calm-and-love-hello-kitty-165

“I didn’t win the Powerball Jackpot”, says Princess Rosebud

Source: wchingya.com

Source: wchingya.com

Yoo hoo! It’s me, I’m back!

Sigh, we’re not the Powerball Lottery Jackpot winner, although we actually bought a couple of tickets which we never do, and I had mentally chosen an array of colors for my new Chanel and Hermes handbags — pink, white, turquoise, orange… and my tugboat man had picked out the locations for our new homes so he could follow the surf year-round.

Oh well.

This blog thing — it’s just like riding a bicycle, right? Hold on while I climb back on that seat and clip my shoes in the pedals.

Although I’m a little rusty, let’s see if I remember how to do this…my tagline is “beguiling pearls of wit, wisdom, and whimsy — with attitude.”

Hopefully, I haven’t completely forgotten…and I hope you haven’t completely forgotten ME.

It feels like it’s been sooo long since I sat down with my Mac on my lap to write a post — in my favorite writing spot — looking out the patio doors to the deck and beyond, listening to the birdsong…Pencils-lined-up

If we still wrote with pencils, you could picture me with them all lined up, sharpened to a point, awaiting the construct of a thought to translate into letters and words.

Where is YOUR favorite location to write?

UPDATE:

My tugboat man came home last Thursday evening – my son was delivered to me via Southwest Airlines on Sunday (Mother’s Day) and flew away on Friday night.

Saturday was full of cleaning and laundry, finding the clothes my son forgot to pack that he’ll probably need me to send to him — why is it that he can write a 250 page dissertation with an amazing amount of detail, but is so forgetful of the minutiae of daily life? Ah, the absent minded professor syndrome in action, right?

I took tons of pics of our busy week of hiking and birthday partying and surfing (them, not me).  I was baking and cooking and cleaning.

When I’m here all alone, I forget how much work is involved in caring for a family.

Can you believe that they expect to eat ALL DAY LONG? It’s true. Geez. And they want to do that EVERY DAY —  it is SOOO annoying!

Princess Rosebud wearing glasses.

Princess Rosebud wearing glasses.

I’m currently hard at work on several posts; our hike to Crystal Cove, my Hello Kitty birthday party, the one-year anniversary of my son’s commencement, and a pictorial of my box collection — I counted about thirty of ’em in all shapes and sizes.

Stay tuned for a little husband snark, too. Just sayin’…

The Convoluted Logic of Our Mother’s Day Tradition

depositphotos_5078841-Happy-Mothers-Day-with-Daisy-FlowersIt started with my own mom; she presented ME with gifts on Mother’s Day — thanking me for being her daughter — and any excuse to shop is a good one, right?

I was born on Mother’s Day, so it makes sense to give me lots and lots of presents. Even though it only occurs that way every seven years, it’s still always within the same week.

I enthusiastically carry on the tradition with my son; well, because — uh –if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have a reason to celebrate Mother’s Day at all, would I?

As my son would say, “Duh.”

This year I got him an array of products from Kiehls — skin cream, shaving cream, shampoo, and penned a mini-poem:

You have always been my Angel Boy

As your mom

Every day has been filled with joy.

Other girls wanted to be doctors, lawyers, teachers — all I ever wanted to be was a mom.

While all the other mommies are having breakfast or brunch or lunch, I’ll be spending my day driving to the airport to for a Southwest Airlines delivery of my Angel Boy. Can’t wait!

Best of all, he’ll be here all week and that is my best birthday present ever.

Happy Mother’s Day to cat and dog lovers!

crazycatlady

 

happy-mothers-day-bitches

A Mom Knows These Things

A Generation Fabulous Blog Hop: The Best Thing I Learned From My Mother

Me: “Hey, Mom, guess what?”

Mom: “You’re pregnant.”

Me: “How did you know that’s what I was gonna say?”

Mom: “A mom knows these things.”

MommyThat’s my mom. She was born in 1915 and died in 1989 from pancreatic cancer. She lived with us until the end. I cared for her with the help of a wonderful hospice team.

I was a mid-life baby –born in 1954. She was afraid that I was going to be affected with Downs Syndrome, although they didn’t call it that. At that time, it was  referred to as Mongoloidism, which is no longer in technical use as its considered offensive. They didn’t have genetic testing back then and it scared her that  I was such a good baby, always happy and never cried.

The doctor told her I would make up for it by causing her heartache when I was a teenager, and I did — but that story is for another time…

My mom became a registered nurse at a time when abortions were illegal. She often told me that the horrible things that she saw in the hospital — the aftereffects of a botched backroom abortion — were the reasons she was one thousand percent pro-choice right from the beginning.

“A woman has the right to choose whether or not she wants to have a child.”

That’s something I learned from my mom.

“No man has the right to tell a woman what to do with her body.”

I learned that from my mom, too.

These forward thinking ideas were even more remarkable when you consider that her father — my grandfather — was a Rabbi. My mom was one of seven children. They moved from town to town as my grandfather moved from synagogue to synagogue  — a nomadic life.  Although she was born in Minnesota, my mom spoke with a slight southern drawl because the family spent many years in the south.

They eventually ended up in Detroit. I loved hearing my mom tell the story of climbing onto a city bus and walking to the back along with an African-American girl who had been told to “get to the back of the bus”. The bus driver kicked my mom off for being a troublemaker.

meandmommyObviously, that’s where I got my big mouth. I learned to speak up for those less fortunate — to fight for those that have no voice. I learned to speak up when I see child abuse or animal cruelty. As proud as I was of her, I know she’d be equally as proud of me.

My mom taught me what it meant to be a mother. She abhorred daycare and nannies and was disdainful of mothers who worked. She told me that people shouldn’t have children if they don’t want them and if they can’t take proper care of them.

No stranger would raise HER grandchild.

“A child deserves to have a mom who will selflessly dedicate her life to her child with unconditional love.”

I always knew I would be a stay-at-home-mom — my mom showed me how.

And also thanks to my mom, I wear perfume every day — Chance by Chanel. It’s my signature, even if I’m just going to the gym. I learned that from my mom, too.

“Don’t save perfume for special occasions.” Fragrance can turn rancid and sour smelling. This is what she said when she presented me with my very first bottle of real parfum — Joy by Jean Patou.

“Wear it every day. Wear it for yourself.”

meandmom

My mom and me. I think I had just given birth…not sure where my baby is!

Along with a love for cleaning the house with bleach, collecting seashells and blue glass, my mom passed on the shopping gene.

My passion for the finer things in life are directly related to that first mother-daughter dress, my first pink satin ballet shoes, my first silk blouse, and my first treasured cashmere sweater.

When we enjoyed a bit of retail therapy, Mommy (yes, I called her Mommy) liked to buy me things because she said it made her happy.

Her favorite saying was, “It’s only money.”

That cracks up my tugboat man — although she passed away a few years before we met– he says he’s now paying the price (literally) and carrying on the tradition – under duress. Ha ha ha!

Thank you, Mommy. I miss you so very much.

This is a bloghop!

Sometimes Things Fail…Epically

This is an example of a fail.

Not a major failure in the grand scheme of things, but a fail nonetheless.

It’s okay to laugh — I laughed at myself.

It’s one of my better qualities; self-deprecation, not taking myself too seriously.

But seriously, WTF was I thinking?

Check out my Goldfinger — 24K pond — I got a little carried away with being all crafty and thought a simple restoration was in order — you know, Mother’s Day is coming up and my Angel Boy is gonna be here, and I’m singing  the song of a happy mommy.

This morning I received an email to let me know that my tugboat man is a comin’ home too!

Yay!

My Angel Boy AND my Tugboat Man! Woooohoooo!

I’ve been re-inspired to complete a bunch of projects and clean the house (yes, again) so I’ll have free time to play with my two best boys.

So…ya wanna see the debacle? Here ya go — you might need to put your shades on, it’s kinda bright…in the sun….the blinding glare of a haphazardly spray painted nature pond.

I’m definitely conveying a mixed message here.

Is it a garden sanctuary or Jersey Shore? Wow.

Image

I had to turn off the pump for the waterfall; too much overspray from the gold paint. Yes, you’re seeing correctly–for some reason, I painted the trunk of that tree.

Image

I’m very proud of this pond — except for the gold. I dug it out, mixed and poured the concrete with no help from anyone, and that includes placing each and every rock and boulder.

Image

This is an epic fail. My task this afternoon is to empty the water and try a wire brush to remove as much of the paint as I can.

If THAT fails, I’ll have to send out a mayday call for a captain to assist.

Confessions and Clarifications

I was originally gonna post about the Pope from the perspective of a perplexed Jewish Princess, but the commentary I’ve read from yesterday’s post necessitates a change of direction!

My stream of consciousness initial thoughts about the whole surreal Pope flying away on the helicopter thing…Kiss the ring–germs on the ring–destroy the ring–all those men… I tried to do the math in my head  and wonder how many of the men surrounding the Pope as he left are pedophiles or were once molested by a priest, That, in a nutshell, is the post I planned to present to you.

HOWEVER, AHEM…

Yesterday I wrote a post of appreciation for My Life with Lucille mostly ‘cos she’s a wonderfully sweet person and she bestowed upon me (Enchanted Seashells) a nomination for the Epically Awesome Award of Awesomeness.

I posted HER answers to the questions so that you’d get to know a little bit about My Life as Lucille.

Are you following me so far? Stick with me, it’ll all begin to make sense.

SOME of my fantastic wonderful stupendous brilliant beautiful witty intelligent readers THOUGHT I was talking about myself but I was NOT.

This is most definitely an emergency post situation! It’s imperative that I set the record straight and follow through with MY award!epicallyawesomeaward

The Rules For The Epically Awesome Award Of Awesomeness:

1. Tell 10 epic and/or awesome facts about yourself.  That’s it.
2. Pass it on to 10 bloggers you think are awesome and/or epic–or both.


HERE ARE TEN FACTS (Confessions) ABOUT ME, ME, ME….
PRINCESS ROSEBUD! 

1. As much as I love my Chanel Grand Shopper Tote, I have a favorite t-shirt my son gave me about six years ago, full of holes, and I wear it ALL the time.yaleshirtholes

2. I was in the film, “Stuntman”; here’s a pic of me with Chuck Bail, a really nice guy! He’s a director and a stuntman.
Stuntman

3. If, for some reason, I don’t have a book to read, sometimes I’ll read a cookbook until I fall asleep

4. I LOVE to clean house. I really do. That doesn’t mean I want to clean YOUR house, so please don’t ask.

5. I’m five feet tall. I confess that I have a Napoleon Complex. I get lost in a crowd.

6. I have a lot of stuffed animals, but they don’t sleep with me, although they’re close by!stuffedanimalschair

7. I know NOTHING about Google Analytics. I can barely cut and paste html into WP widgets.

8. Once in a while–when my tugboat man and I are out shopping or running errands, i get really dressed up, keep my (Chanel) sunglasses on inside,  and pretend I’m a famous actress and he’s my security, and sometimes I hear people whisper, “Who’s that? Is that somebody?”  This is very, very true. 

9. I love seashells, even random piles of them on our deck.shellsondeck

10. My favorite holiday is my birthday because every seven years, Mother’s Day and my birthday fall on the same day, which makes my son’s birthday in March my equally favorite day to celebrate.

Let’s recap and clarify…yesterday’s post was all about My Life with Lucille. Today’s post was all about ME, Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of  a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Whew! I feel better, how about you?

MY NOMINATED BLOGS, and especially UnfetteredBS

This is an eclectic group of writers, love them all and there’s only sposed to be ten or I’l add everyone!

The Epistolarians
TheFurFiles
Rarasaur
Sarahlouisek
Chewylicious
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Hello World
Cook Eat Live Vegetarian
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Little Bits of History