A Moment to Rain Dance

How often do we take a moment to play? Not often enough, I think.

The Science of Laundry

I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me; the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart. Jerome K. Jerome

Laundry multiplies like rabbits when left alone. It can debilitatingly overwhelm and mesmerize even the most organized, strong-willed person.

I can wash and dry clothes. I just can't remove them from my dryer. Several days later, I may remove the clothes, but I can't fold them or locate a convenient drawer for them.

With two toddlers, our house looks like a laundromat for wrinkled dwarves.

Twelve loads of laundry fits perfectly on our couch. Underneath twelve loads of laundry is a nice, peaceful place for an afternoon nap.

Sitting and looking at laundry only makes it grow -  into an overwhelming, depressing mockery of how perfect you - aren't.

I know that I am not alone. No one else who visits my house can do my laundry either.

Is there laundry in Heaven? No. Laundry came as a result of Eve and that blasted (*#@!) apple. I'll bet Adam just got a new fig leaf when his old one began to shrivel. Although, he probably did leave the old fig leaf on the floor next to the bed.

Heavy sigh. Our lives, like endless piles of laundry are paralleled in the silent resignation of a deep, heavy sigh. We must wash clothes, if we are ever to leave the laundry room. And at some point, we all want out of the house.

November, 2010

The toddlers are now teenagers! I thought I had laundry 10 years ago. Now, they do their own laundry, mostly, sort of. Interestingly, they too, cannot get past the obstacle of removing the clothes from the drier in a timely manner. The (!*@#**!) apple does not fall far from the tree. I hope the apples land in soft piles of clean laundry though, and very far away from any fig leaves.

Karen

One Lovely Blog Award

One-lovely-blog-award

Look what I got from http://unmotherlyinsights.com/ by way of: http://sometimesmeaningfulramblings.wordpress.com/ and I am more than happy to “pay it forward.”
Here are my recipients in "forward-ness."

My adored DeeDee and http://www.fiddledeedee.net/

Bring the Rain     http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/   


Modern Mommy Moments http://modernmommymoments.blogspot.com/


And right back at my newly adored Debra: http://unmotherlyinsights.com/ 

Now for the rules for accepting this award…

1. Accept the award. Post it on your blog with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link.
2. Pay it forward to 15 other bloggers that you have newly discovered.

3. Contact those blog owners and let them know they’ve been chosen.

Also, please don’t feel obligated to accept the award. I like your blogs and wanted to share.

I NEED MORE BLOGS TO FOLLOW! ANY SUGGESTIONS??

   

Blood Shed

despite appearances we are all masterpieces in grace

everyone

despite appearances we are all someone's child

the person tailgating us at 70 mph

through the grocery store parking lot

calling at 6:30 pm to sell us anything we don't want

in extremes

murdering someone else's child

in cold blood

or by the slow beating down of their souls

through criticism

or constant neglect

We are all

a masterpiece broken

a masterpiece undiscovered

a masterpiece unworthy

a person impossible to forgive

yet still alive

with

grace

for us

for them

forever

forgiven

for our children

for someone else's

for blood

already shed

by

the only master

of peace

who despite appearances

is always

there

here

around

us.

11 years since the Columbine horror...complacency is more prevalent than sorrow for lives taken so suddenly back then. I'm sending Hannah off to the public school on the corner really, really soon. I hope. and pray. she'll come out.

Karen

As It Is

I hear my daughter say "Where did my Mommy go?

She never sings anymore."

If I could reach out to you,

I would.

If it was possible to see beyond the lid that presses down my heart,

I would look to you.

But as it is, I stay a petulant, spoiled child who refuses comfort in the arms of the most cherished.

As it is...

Are you here anyway?

Can you see into my barren soul, if I don't ask you to look?

Will you continue to see the me you first loved

if I stay in this pit without you?

Will you still hold my mind in the palm of your hand even though every thought is being held captive by someone else?

How long will you love me?

Beyond my shame,

is there room for the purveyor of grace?

Is your grace boundless enough to release the tentacles of my demons?

No, so it seems.

You are silent.

I don't reach my hand out to you because I can't.

I don't have to seek you.

I stay here in my hell, because you love me anyway and always and as it is,

I'm relying on that.

As it is, you already know the way - out.

As it is and always will be - the only way out is, regrettably,

through.

Please, get me through.

I want to sing.

Please, lead me back to your voice.

Eleven years later. I reached out my hand and the barren soul is mostly healed... But, now my daughters actually ask me not to sing quite so loud, or quite so often, or in the middle of "What Not to Wear." Which by the way, they keep submitting me for. I guess there's no middle ground. You are either silent - or singing at the top of your lungs. In or out. Stuck or through. As of today…I got through!

Who Am I First?

A mother's identity lost in the first cry of her child.

A mother's identity found in the first smile of her child.

But years later when the novelty has worn off,

who does Mom become above all?

Someone's wife?

ONLY A MOTHER!!!!!

A Maid.

A Musician.

A Dancer.

A Storyteller.

An Actress.

A Puppeteer.

Arms.

Tears.

All Smiles.

A stand-up commedian.

A human baby-wipe.

Asleep.

Chef?

No...microwave operator.

A grateful observer.

A joyful recipient.

Sad.

A miss being alone.

Lonely.

Impatient.

Patient.

Endlessly patient.

Loved.

By husband.

By children.

By friends I never see.

But mostly by the cat.

I was someone else before I had all this laundry to do.

I just don't remember who that was.

Who am I first?

I don't know.

It changes everyday.

And everyday brings something else to be.

And everyday brings someone into my arms,

no matter who I am first.

Or what I end up to be at last.

Coffee Break

"Mommy, why do you drink so much coffee?"

"In a word...you."

Only in Innocence

Only in childhood can we don a fuzzy yellow Tweedy Bird snow cap in July...in L.A. and walk into a Hallmark store to do a little browsing. Only in innocence can we wear what peaks our fancy and be thrilled with only our perception of how we look.

Tea parties and princess dreams. Rhinestones and mom's shoes. It doesn't matter that nothing fits, only that we know we are beautiful and special. Only in innocence is the mirror our friend, a magical insight into who we think we are and who we will become.


Now my life is with daughters who are "becoming." Clearly, innocence had its place. A place we are leaving behind. To survive, innocence must go. You can't be a grown woman in a Tweedy Bird hat. Although, I'm pretty sure Hannah would still walk into a Hallmark store in that hat, just because she would know that  it's funny and, thankfully, she can trust her perception of how she looks. The mirror is still her friend. I wonder when that changes?