Another Mother's Day Post

Subtitle: I'm glad the children have aunts

An aunt is a special person; they are nurturing and sweet like your mother on a good day, and they have little responsibility to see that you behave minute by minute or day to day. They enjoy socializing you when you're young, because at the very least, you're a change of pace from their own children while still being quite familiar, and maybe, you're one of the only children they regularly interact with, making you extremely charming and clever.

As an adult, I've discovered an aunt can spell you a bit from the insanities all mothers share. Somehow, an aunt saying the exact same thing your mother said last week doesn't rankle. Also, an aunt can be a bit more direct than your mother; maybe this isn't always true, but it seems there is less muddy water between an aunt and you than between you and the woman who tried to raise you well. Of course, if you have a bad connection with your aunt, then this is all bunk.

However, my children are blessed with some lovely aunts in a wide variety of types. Maybe, they'll know this as they mature. Personally, I had two aunts teach me how to tend a house and another how to paint a house and mow a yard. I had some great-aunts who showed me how to be a lady (these lessons did not stick) and that even wildflowers are beautiful. One aunt taught me about the river and another showed me a gentle way to parent. And all of them laughed often and loud.

Now that my own mother is dead, I find myself often needing an elder, and my aunt is willing to advise and sympathize. I hope my children are so lucky.

Mothers day

Jason and I don't particularly mark mother's day, because it just doesn't make much sense to us (along with Valentine's, St Patrick's, and Father's day). I decided to make an exception this year. There's a new book that I'm not that interested in, but the premise lead me to reflect on the things I carry through my life that my mother gave me.

She was pretty stubborn, and this was mostly a good thing. It meant she led a pretty normal life in spite of a serious physical handicap. She left me feeling I just could not back away from a problem, unless it was for a flanking maneuver.

She was pretty demanding. The thing I do that I think is a reaction to this is I bristle very quickly when I feel bullied or pressured. I also do not keep people on a line when I know they have their own agendas. With age, I've come to realize this demanding quality was probably related to her handicap; she was a real powerhouse, and it must have been extremely frustrating to see a job and not be able to do it herself.

I believe I can do just about anything I want, as well as knowing I get to decide what I want to do. I think she did a nice job of accepting us as we were and being excited for us (or angry) relative to the things we set out to accomplish. I do not remember much pressure from her to become some particular type of person or profession.

She was good at apologizing. I thank her memory often when I find myself knowing I can admit a mistake and fix it.

She was the anti- example regarding minding my temper. I still do not think claiming Irish blood entitles one to temper tantrums.

She left me feeling sure of her love, and knowing that as flawed as I am as a parent, my children can still feel my love.

An Homage to the Teachers I Fondly Remember

I have many memories of teachers I did not do so well with, but it's the ones that made an impact that bubble into my everyday even 30 years later.

A quick thanks to Mrs. Moore for just being kind as she seemed to know things were not quite right at our house.

A nod to Mrs. Babcock for being so pretty with her soft hair and pregnant belly. Thanks to Mrs. Swadley that year for mentioning to my parents I might be bored.

Here's a hooray for Mrs. Gambell for taking me and Erica Koenck and giving us a job since we were both too nerdy to be tolerated in homeroom.

Thanks Mrs. Glasgow for being so very cool as you slipped out for a cig.

Mrs. Meyer was so demanding and acerbically funny. I think of the medula oblongata almost daily.

To the blinking Mrs. Thornton for handling grief in an honest way.

To that recordkeeping teacher who took me home when I had the flu; these kindnesses matter.

Mrs. Bullard and Mr. Wallace still make me laugh as I stare out the window. The rumble of thunder or a loud sneeze can make me giggle.

I can still see Coach Smith blushing as he quickly covered human reproduction. Oh, and the frog dissection with all the eggs and that question about when a chicken's egg is actually fertilized.

The lovely Ms. Davis, sure of herself in her experience, lent a bit of her certainty to me.

Mrs. Goolsby believed everyone could write.

Mr. Disney introduced the idea of sensitive periods and the suggestion that juniors in high school might not have reached the window for physics.

That's who I think of and why as I deal with my three. May their lives have such characters.

Shopping

I think Americans might be addicted to shopping for everything. I think we're always comparing the thing we have against the newest version or against the thing we could have.

I see at least one positive side to this- it probably pushes toward innovation (I'm not sure if that is even a positive).

The down side is pretty insurmountable in my opinion. First, all the advertising to lure us to keep shopping leaves us feeling steadily dissatisfied. Would you be looking for new shoes if the ones you have are good enough?

Second, it leads us to consume and consume and consume. Did you know there are more cars in the United States than there are people? Just think how many cell phones there must be as people constantly upgrade for a new color or gizmo.

Third, it encourages us to shop for things that maybe should be seen as permanent. This older model husband no longer dances after the dishes are washed and the children are in bed; perhaps it's time for a new one.

Fourth, it leaves us feeling the answer to our happiness is out "there" if we could only buy our way to it.

Fifth, all that buying leaves us spiritually as well as financially in the red. No amount of shopping can feed your soul, and being in debt in this desperate pursuit will not make happiness any easier to find.

So what are we to do? I don't know, but I'm going to plant a few more trees and stay out of the mall.

In Praise of the Clothesline

I have been able to hang clothes outside since late March. It is a wonderful thing. The clothes seem cleaner and smell better after they dry on the line. The time I spend outside hanging the clothes, even if I have to wear gloves, is quiet and my own. I love the weather awareness the laundry line gives me; I know, for example, our prevailing wind is different from the "norm" around here. I think there's something about being tucked close to Buffalo Mountain the must give the wind a quick twist. We DO get northern breezes, but our wind is primarily out of the south and southwest. I know how humid it is by how many loads I can dry in a day- my record on this line is 4.

Also, the laundry on the line means winter is mostly over or hasn't quite settled in.

The Orchard

I'm lame with the pictures when I'm this tired, but I did plant 20 trees this weekend- 10 apples, 7 pears, 2 plums, and a cherry. The apples and pears are in the east field just one side of the elderberries, highbush cranberries, Juneberries, and nanny berries. As I was planting, I was thinking about how that field will look in 5 or 10 years, with taller trees arched gently towrd one another and the taller berry bushes behind them. The picture in my mind is pretty idyllic, unless I start wondering which trees will die.

The plums and cherry are in the back field, closer to the house than the chestnuts, but far enough out that they should not shade the strawberries or blueberries. Jason requested they be where he could see them blossoming from the dining room table- assuming they don't die.

I guess it's obvious what I'm worrying about.

My Husband and Cars

I really like my husband, I mean really, really. And he just quit commuting. So I'm thinking about my dear, delightful man and the automobile.

When we moved to Fort Worth, Jason's job was driving; he drove to Weatherford and north Dallas and all sorts of places. He drove and he drove and he drove. When we moved to Vermont, he was suddenly able to walk to work, and we noticed immediately how very nice it was that he did not have to drive so much. Then, there were a couple more moves and much longer commutes, and that seemed to work pretty well too. Now, his drive to work could be by bicycle or about a ten minute drive. He is so very happy.

Suddenly, he is giving some sort of cooking lesson almost daily to one child or another; he built a chicken tractor in under two weeks; he makes jokes at dinner and at breakfast. We both really think it's related to not driving so far to work. It also helps that he is home so many more hours of the day, partly because of the shorter commute and also because of the nature of the job.

His change in attitude makes me wonder about my own parents and their very long commutes when we were little. Then there are all the people who spend untold amounts of time in the car not just going back and forth to work, but also to go to the shopping complex or entertainment land. I wonder how our lives are impacted by the hours we spend in the car.