The beauty of a mother.

The kind words that many of you offered up after reading Airing my {clean} Laundry inspired me to create a follow up. 


A lot of the time, thoughts begin as little seeds within my head.  I spend time nurturing them, getting them ready for the world outside.  They grow strong during the time of gentle love.  I water them and feed them riches.  Other times, the words tumble into my fingers and become something I never could have imagined.  I'll let you decide which this one is: 

The day that the Laundry blog was born, one of the places I was carried away to had black and white tiled kitchen floors, there was a  huge blackboards at the end of the stairs and the smell of dairy farm lingered--rich creamy heady fresh from the bulk tank.  Although I was quiet young when I played on the tree swing, jumped in piles of leaves, raced down the stairs, left my mark in chalk and gathered as family to give thanks in this particular house, I remember it.  Little snippets of love.  This was a house filled with generations of laundry airing women.  When I wrote that blog, I did not intend to pay homage to my mother, I was truly just reflecting on stories I had heard over the years from women who lived them.  Women who helped form who I am today.

The views of many help me see how this piece could be about my mother.  My mother was simple.  Nothing fancy.  She didn't wear make-up, have her nails done or wear the latest fashions.  She did not always say the right things and she did not always do the right things, either.  She was not perfect.  She was simply perfect.  Simply my mother.

She loved her family. She loved her friends.  She loved her work.  Her heart and soul were generous--some say made of gold.  She was loved by many.  Her temper was hot.  Her care for others grew to large.  She forgot herself.  She left too soon.

The beauty of a mother is not held in their abilities or their faults.  The beauty of a mother is deeper.  Its in the way she does things every day. Thanklessly.  Cook, clean, repeat.  Every action is watched.  One day those actions are picked up by those around her.  Sometimes changed.  They grow for next the generation to cultivate.  Sometimes forgotten.  Coming back when the time is right.

I was 27 years old when she left this world.  I was ripe with child.  My time with her was too short.  I still had a lot of skills to gain from her. Simple brilliance afforded her to leave knowing I was strong enough to find the women would take care of me.  The women who could help me learn and relearn those lessons she was not able to teach.  The beauty of a mother is that no matter how long they grace your life, whether a full rich life time or a quick moment, they give more than you know.  Knowledge that sticks with you, in those cobwebby spaces in your mind.

No matter how long they have been gone, be it two weeks, 10 years (has it almost been ten years already? nope, it's almost 11) or an adult lifetime, they are always your mother.  Always the person who cared for you when you were sick, the one who said "I love you" when you have screamed the opposite, the person who thought about you before themselves.  The one was willing to go without so you could go on.  The one that is always and forever proud, even when you are not trying to win it.

{and then there is Dad, but that's a whole other blog}

In memory of

Judith Ann (Herricks) Larson

August 6, 1945 to July 19, 2001

Airing my (clean) Laundry

The age-old house keeping method of hanging clothing on the line always has a huge impact on my thinking thoughts.  My reason for purchasing a umbrella style clothes line for my back yard was the same as all of my homemade, from scratch, back-to-basic ideas:   To be a little greener while saving a buck.  I did not realize that with every wooden pin I squeezed open, I would be stepping back in time.

The muscle memory of the women before me assist as I clumsily hang sheets on the taught and saggy lines of their lives. The visions of babies on skirt hems and flour sack dresses dancing in the breeze play through my head as I bend and stretch. The smell of sunshine captured delivers chicken pot pies to dinner tables dressed in linen cloths.  There is a sting of just pickled beets lingering in the air whiles jars of jams & jellies ping on counter tops. Bread baking in cook stove, Apple Brown Betty waited for the ladies of Circle and cheese melting in pots of fashionable colors on coffee tables in dens of new homes in developments. Mayonaise Sandwhiches.

Clipping sock after sock I slowly drift to an era when television sets had dials, games were played on boards, and corded phones with party lines sat on little tables in the family room.

Stretching shirts along the line thoughts of a roll top desk with paper and pen waiting to be folded and sent to Mary just to let her know that all is fine and the picnic was pleasant. The men are in from the  the fields. Glass bottles of Coke-a-Cola on a sunny afternoon.   Tires rolling on gravel as someone pulls in the driveway just to say "hi" while baby sleeps contently on a tired new mothers lap.

Hanging up blue jeans calls to mind the dish-pan hands that scrub with watching eyes through the window spy tree swings and climbing scab-kneed children from the window. Mud pies baking in the sun and not a bottle of hand sanitizer in sight. Cops and Robbers played with toy guns. Cowboys and Indians. Indian paintbrushes, dandelions, black eye-Susan's & buttercups meadows. Catch me if you can.

As I remove each wooden helper, I think about vinegar and baking soda and how these are the things that once were common agents used to clean home until something "better" came along. I think about how aprons were sewn for purpose not just style. I recall chickens roaming around farm yards and eggs were collected, beef was raised and slaughtered and no one was though of as superior for doing so.

While I'm folding clothes and placing them into the basket, I picture gardens of sun basking tomatoes, pole climbing beans, green carrot tops, tall cornstalks and ripe berries of every kind. Brown grocery bags hold boxes of Bisquick, Spam, smoked oysters and something called Hamburger helper. Milk came in glass bottles or warm from the barn and was served at every meal.  Lime Jello Molds with carrots and celery suspended in time. Bake sales with home baked goods.

I think about the fact that before stay-at-home moms there was just Mother. There were PTA's that were called PTA and Sock hops dances and one-piece gym suits and one-room school house where a single teacher managed an entire school. Door-to-Door salesmen sold everything from chocolates to vacuums. Nothing was open on Sundays. There were tough times. Lean times. War times and sons coming home. Pride, honor and despair. Children growing. Children going. Families gather and swell. Love. Dancing. Laughter rings again.

Believe it or not, there are so many other images that flitter through my head while hanging the fabrics of our life. I think about my own childhood and how I never understood why my mother spent the time and energy to hang our underwear for all the world to see when we had a perfectly good dryer right next to the washer. Surely it was just to embarrass me.  I did not enjoy the feeling of stiff towels and shirts. I swore I would never have a clothes line when I grew up.

I grew up and I do.  I get it. Now. I understand. Now.  When I see my children run towards my freshly laundered items, with their grubby hands racing to hide in the center of our umbrella of vanity, it becomes clear,  we do things because they are things we are meant to do. The calm-ness that overcomes me is worth the effort of lugging heavy wet clothes up the stairs and out into the backyard. This is my thing that I am meant to do. It does not make me more enviormently aware or old fashioned or richer or poorer or better than anyone else. It connects me to the things and times and the people that I need to feel even if I was not there to remember. What do you need to remember?

All this from hanging material stitched together to form something other than what it began as.

Oh, you Fancy

Trailer provided by Video Detective

This is a clip from a show called Best Friends Forever. I love this little girls, I'm sorry this 9 1/2 year old 'tude. Sass. It's best when it's not your own child. I don't know if anyone else got a chance to catch this show. To me it is funny. It's how my friends and I are. There for each other.

No matter how far away or how often I see them my true friends are there to get me through the tough stuff, the happy times, the times where I am at my best and my worst, when I'm super funny and when I do things that are just laughable.

My friends are a rare collection of beautiful "Fancy" women. Though they may not always have their nails done, their hair done or it all did, to me they are Fancy (even in those over sized sweat pants). I love you all(you know who you are) if you think I may be talking to you, I am, and I thank you for being part of my life.

I guess I should also give a shout out to all my fancy men friends too. Oh, you fancy. you fancy like that.

Let's Pretend

Let's pretend. That is how changes occurred in play when I was a kid. Let's pretend that we live in London, France. Let's pretend I work for an ad agency (what 80's sitcom was my nfluence here). I know, let's pretend that I'm a mom and I have 8 children. No, Wait, let's pretend that no one needs to speak the launguage of cancer, or diabeties, or autisum, or even alpers Syndrome. Let's pretend those things are not real. Let's pretend that no one dies young--that we all live a ripe full life filled with love beyond measure, riches that have no limit, and the wisdom to take advantage of every moment given to us. Let's pretend. I know let's pretend that there is nothing but peace in this world. And acceptance. And tolerance. Understanding. Stillness. and glitter--there is always room for glitter.

2012 Word and Goals

In years past, I have included the definition to the word I have chosen. This year I will provide a link so you can read all the wonderful and many ways of defining my word if you choose to do so. I will, however give you the meaning to why I went with this word. Here it is:

pres·ent  /ˈprɛzənt/
adjective
1. being, existing, or occurring at this time or now; current

There it is, my 2012 word. (here's the link http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/present)

Growing up, 2012 seemed like the future and so very far away. Today it is the present. But that is not why I picked it. All of the many meanings to this word are lovely--and I know in some way or another, they will all be a part of my life over the course of the next 366 days.

What I want to focus on more fully is being present. I want to slow down my thinking thoughts that always seem to be filling my head so full that it sometimes causes me paralysis. It's the down side of my creativity--my mind is always thinking of the next project, idea, the next thing, so much so that I miss out on what is going on around me sometimes.

I have a 10 year old. I don't know how that happened. Before even more years pass by and I have another 10 year old, I want to take the time to hear them, to see them, to hug them--I want to be present before it is too late. So what if the meals are not planned for the upcoming month.

Prepared, but Present.


I was reading though my goals from last year (just reflecting and taking inventory--to prepare for the present) I missed a lot of them. But the great thing is, I get a chance in the present to try again. So what will these goals of mine be for 2012? I don't know if I want them to be called goals this year, I think I would rather them be just things I do. So this is what I want to do this year:

1. Finish projects before starting something new. This even includes making my children/husband wait until I finish folding that last towel before I help the find (insert lost item that only a mother/wife can find here). If they have to wait for me to complete what I am doing at the moment, so be it. That does not mean that I will make the people who depend upon me to wait until I finish all my work. I will not make people go hungry just so I can add another picture to my Pintrest completion board. No. But I will make them wait until I at least have the needle put away safely. I'm pretty good at juggling, but that needs to stop--things don't get done when I have 12 things in the air. Unless you can call chaos a thing. Chaos happens a lot when I try to do more than I should.

2. Enjoy the process of getting ready for and the participation of the Eau Claire 1/2 Marathon. This will be my third time participating. Last year I did not train. It took me longer to complete and I was in pain which proves that I should have finished about an hour later than I did. I did not enjoy it. I injured myself. I was not even going to do it this year. I have to prove to myself that I can do it better and keep the momentum going long after I cross the finish line. The course is just to beautiful to miss. I guess it's just part of who I am now.

3. Lessen Clutter. I don't want to go over board here and say get rid of clutter completely, but I can have way less of it. I have a Kindle (and the internet), books can go after. Why do we have so many clothing items and craft things and double and triples of things we don't use that much in the first place. Why am I trying to become some things I never will become (such as a great jewelry maker). Who needs toys when you there are boxes are way more fun. Okay, Okay...we will still need things, but why so much? It's time for a change.

4. I have the normal things I want to do ever year...drink more water, be healthier, be richer, read from my ever growing list of books, but why bore you with the same old same old.

I ask that my past years words can come along for the ride this year. 2012--imagine the possibilities of what a simple and present life could be. Wassail.

Simple Review.

True to my Word--my goals, not so much.

Simple. That was the word for 2011. I think I did a pretty fair job and being someone simple--we used paper plates and ordinary dishes for our Christmas Eve event and normally I haul out the fancy crystal and plates and sorry to report, but our drinks were not enjoyed from Red Solo Cups, I did go a little up more up-scale and got platic wine glasses.

For the most part, I tried to keep things uncomplicated. The kids had very low-key birthday parties Okay really, their birthday's just fell on days that other children happened to be at our house. The "parties" were great, a little cake, tons of energy, a lot of laughter and syrup shots and water chasers were even part of one party--guess which child that would have been).

I started working back at home and left behind a job that did not fit our live (or really anything about me). I made simple things. We had simple fun. I simply read. I simply did not work out. I simply did not train. I simply gained a lot of weight. We loved each other simply, as we best know how. Somethings were more simple than others. We simply wished hard for everything to be alright.

Did the year turned out as I had dreamed it would, they never do. But I am working on lowering my expectations and with that I have learned that everything is simply perfect.

12 Weeks

Today marks the start of my 12 weeks of training for Eau Claire Half Marathon. It's hard to believe that in 12 weeks from today, I will be walking the course. Wow 12 weeks time.

I am using a different approach this year. Last year I followed a Novice Runners Schedule. It worked well and I feel that I was prepared for the event; however, I stumbled upon a program for Walkers and I figured that I may as well use that since I am a walker. The main difference is that this year, I will be walking for certain amounts of time verses a specific miles.

I think it will work a lot better for my life--there was too much pressure to fit in long miles last year. Walking 5 miles take a bit longer than running. I began to dread those long miles every day and stopped enjoying the process. My mind will be able to better handle it's only so many minutes today. I will still have long walks over the weekend--which will be beautiful. I also think that this schedule fits better with my "simple" resolutions.

I actually may be making today be my rest day because I am stiff and sore form a beautiful snowshoeing adventure through a section of the Ice Age Trail I have never had the pleasure of exploring. My friend Steph, her Mother, and Steph's brothers girlfriend and I (along with many other people) set out on a 3 mile course. I have so much respect for people who actually had to travel through the snowy woods to live. 3 miles feels so different with big feet and tons of snow. The leg muscles also feel the difference too. I love my outdoor gym.