Did I just commit to planning our menus? Funny how planning to plan is now an activity on my momAgenda. Awesome.
So this week is nutty - with lots going on and very limited time at home (not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing - less cooking for me - but getting home late with the kids is never a good thing...) At any rate - going forward:
Saturday - (past tense) - Oktoberfest at Incarnation Lutheran
Sunday - Pumpkin Pasta, Fall Salad (because we didn't eat it last week - took a spur of the minute trip up to the NC orchards and didn't make - thank goodness I had the brains to freeze the sausage and everything else was either in the pantry or had a long expiration date)
Monday - Crazy kid activity night - dinner out at Tios
Tuesday - Grandparents Day and Early Release for Anna and James
- pick up kids at the BL Fireman Spaghetti dinner fundraiser
Wednesday - Church Programs and Dinner
Thursday - Butterfly Pasta (Jack's never ending request)
*Modification of Kathy's Broccoli Pasta:
1 lb. bow-tie pasta (or as Jack says butterfly)
1 lb. turkey Italian sausage
1 head broccoli (cut into small pieces)
Parmesan cheese
Brown sausage in non-stick skillet and set aside. Boil pasta according to package directions for al dente. 5 minutes prior to end of cooking time, toss in broccoli and cook until bright green and tender and pasta is al dente. Drain. Return to pasta pot, add sausage, stir to combine. Toss with grated cheese.
Friday - Family Trip to the State Fair
Maybe next week I'll actually cook.
Could happen - you just never know.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Friday, October 5, 2012
Menu Planning: Week 1
I've realized that I must get myself organized in order to face the dinnertime rush with my children. It's hard to run in the door at 5 or 5:30 and get dinner on the table - and even moreso when I'm not sure what I'm feeding them and have to scramble through the freezer or pantry to put something together.
I used to be pretty good at meal planning - and then the Great Move of 2012 began - and I was thrown off-kilter. And my former method of scratching out recipes and shopping lists on random scraps of paper isn't working so well anymore - when I rush out of the office and forget the list - and wander around the grocery store with my ever helpful brood of children trying to remember what it was we were going to fix.
So - in an effort to keep the plan easily accessible - with recipes and ingredients close at hand (as long as I don't lose my phone) - I'm planning to keep record here. Boring, I know, but necessary. At least for now.
So without further ado - here is our week - starting tonight. Now if I can just figure out how to get to the grocery store today to get ingredients ready - I'll be all set.
Friday - Family Movie Night
Fruit (grapes + apples)
Popcorn
Saturday -
Fall salad (greens + apples + goat cheese + pecans)
Sunday -
Cornbread
Monday -
Eat out - crazy kid activity day
Tuesday -
Wednesday -
Church dinner
Thursday -
Rice
Salad
Friday - Family Movie Night
(TBD)
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Scarecrows in the Garden (and a shameless plug)
Our kids love the scarecrow exhibit that happens each October at the Historic Columbia Foundation's Hampton-Preston mansion. It's fun to wander around the historic gardens and see the cool scarecrows that local businesses and proprietors create. In fact, the kids love it SO much that they're prone to ask when they can go back and see the scarecrows every time we happen to drive by the location. Every. Time. Even in February.
In an effort to keep my sanity and not go crazy with three kids all day long on weekends the kids busy while we're going through this separation from Deonne, I've been scouring local events to figure out what we can do that's manageable and cheap/free with the kids. When I happened to see that families could participate in the making of a scarecrow for the annual exhibit for a nominal fee - I knew we were on to something. Turns out the scarecrow-construction workshop was the same weekend as Anna's birthday - which meant Deonne would be in town. Even better.
Next came determining a good theme for our family scarecrow. We first thought a superhero of some sort would be good - but that was nixed because I couldn't come up with anything creative or catchy - I mean what sort of superpower could a scarecrow have? (As Nici pointed out - warding off bird poop?) When that failed - I turned to classic literature - and landed on Mary Poppins.
Mary Poppins is a favorite in our house - the kids love the movie - sing the songs on a regular basis - and when I started imagining a Mary Poppins scarecrow - it started to come together - and thus, "Scary Poppins" was born.
A trip to Goodwill for a hat, shoes, dress, handbag and overcoat, Hobby Lobby for some fake daisies, cherries, and black spray paint (to cover the hat), and Target for an umbrella, gloves, and scarf - and we were set.
Oh, the kids were excited. They had a great time stuffing her innards with hay - and Anna loved being the artist to draw her face on the pillowcase. She looked adorable.
After she was all put together and looking lovely, Deonne asked me - now what - how do we put her up? To which I replied - that's your job. I came up with the creative part - you're the engineer - you figure out how to hang her from the tree.
You can't really see it in the photographs, but that big piece of paper sticking out of her bag is the 'letter' that Jane and Michael wrote at the beginning of the film when they knew they needed a new nanny - you know - the one that Mr. Banks ripped up - tossed in the fireplace - that Mary Poppins magically pulled out and reassembled on her cloud above London. Yeah - so I typed and printed the lyrics to that song out, ripped it up, and then laminated it back together so it looked like the one in the film (yet protected from weather.) Am I a genius or what? (sarcasm)
And at her feet is another sign '17 Cherry Tree Lane' - the Banks' address. I wanted to do more with the address - but we sort of ran out of time. In fact, I was spray painting and hot gluing daisies and cherries on her hat the morning of Anna's birthday party - right before we headed to Crepes and Croissants!
So following the creation and installation of Scary Poppins, Historic Columbia had the official exhibit opening last Sunday. A fun little afternoon with crafts and snacks for the kids, a chance to see the scarecrows up close (all of them), a scavenger hunt, that sort of thing. And, judging. Now, in the car ride to the opening - Anna asked 'what do we get if we win?' to which I went into this long diatribe of how winning isn't important - that we had fun together with their daddy was the most important thing - and there is no prize for winning, rather the satisfaction of knowing that you created a great scarecrow.
I don't think she was convinced.
Especially when they announced the winners - and the Long Family Scary Poppins was announced as the First Place Family Entry. Woot! Woot! The kids were SOOOOOOOO excited!!! They proudly marched up the steps to receive their 'trophy' - a cool ornament that looks like a scarecrow - and a cash prize (that I had no idea existed - until I took the envelope James was carrying around away from him - because he was spilling green goblin juice all over it - and discovered the prize.)
Anna said 'this is my first trophy ever! The first time I've ever won first place in anything!' And you know what? I think it's mine too.
The only thing that would have made receiving the award sweeter would have been for Deonne to be with us (seeing as he's the one who had to figure out how to string her from the tree and all...)
So are you interested in seeing our competition? Thought you might. If you're local - I encourage you to go see the exhibit in person - it's free - just drive over to Hampton-Preston, check in at the gift shop at the Robert Mills house, and wander away (and don't forget to cast your vote for your favorite scarecrow - whoever that might be....)
And if you're not a local reader - visit the Historic Columbia facebook page - and 'like' your favorite one for the people's choice award. I won't be checking or anything....
Monday, October 1, 2012
Joyeaux Anniversaire
Who knows - the kid just might.
When her birthday rolled around - she requested a big Hawaiian Luau - complete with grass skirts, lei's, and hula dancing with all of her friends. I said 'no. We're keeping it small this year. You can have five friends over for a sleepover.' She was disappointed - but agreed (reluctantly) - and perked up considerably when I showed her the invitation I created for her Parisian Themed party.
At any rate, I figured to make things easy - we'd do a sleepover on Friday night - a few sweet treats, some French Fashion paper dolls, a Barbie French Fashion movie - and then the next morning, have the big activity - a special trip to C&C where Laurent (chef and owner) would demonstrate the art of crepes and the girls could have their fill.
I made things REALLY easy. As in - cashed in a gift certificate to Cupcake to have Anna's birthday 'cake' made. Red velvet mini cupcakes with cream cheese icing + vanilla mini cupcakes with chocolate icing = happy girl + not-overtired mama. Win - Win.
I have to admit - I did feel a little bit guilty that I didn't make any baked goods for this girl's birthday...
The morning after the sleepover (which is a bit of a misnomer - I discovered this year that five little girls nearing age eight don't really sleep - rather - they squeal and scream a lot...) the girls got their goody-bags ... a red beret, red shorts, and t-shirt with the same logo as the invite (thank you Photoshop.) And then it was off to C&C.
I couldn't help thinking 'In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines, the youngest one was Madeleine...' or in our case, six little girls in one zig-zag line...
Laurent and Amandine made things really special. I think they were excited to have a little girl's birthday party at their restaurant. The girls had their own table reserved for them, that they had decorated in balloons, and where they placed flowers that Deonne had sent in advance for Anna.
It was a really great time - and I think Anna thoroughly enjoyed it. She got to have the company of her bestest buddies, to savor one of her favorite treats, and the best part (as she says) had her Daddy home for the weekend to celebrate together.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
And Now She is Eight
I could probably scroll back through every birthday entry for every child and read the phrase 'I can't believe (insert name) is (insert age) years old...it seems like just yesterday they were tiny babies in my arms...' Because that's what always comes to mind when I think of the calendar pages turning over and the years rolling by.
When I was a kid - my mother and I were obsessed with musical theatre. Not only did we see every show available in our limited corner of the world in Eastern Washington state - but we rented videos of the classics. Victor/Victoria. Westside Story. Thoroughly Modern Millie. Oklahoma. Fiddler on the Roof. We'd sit together on the big black vinyl couch in our family room and watch these movies over and over - until I had the songs memorized. My mom always got teary eyed when Tevye belted out 'Sunrise, Sunset' in Fiddler. It was like clockwork - her nose would get red, her eyes watery, and then she'd wipe away the tears with a smile. I never understood why, and in my pre-adolescent mind could never figure out why a song about sunrises and sunsets would make her weepy.
Until now.
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?
I look at Anna and wonder - when did my little girl stop looking like a child and start looking like a teenager? How are we nearly half-way through our time with her - before she cuts those apron strings and heads out into the big bad world? How is time going so fast? I want to stop the clock - to slow things down - to spend unlimited time doing all of those things I want to do with her that we never seem to find the time for - like cooking and baking, making beaded necklaces, picking wildflowers, having Barbie fashion shows. All too often when she asks me to do one of these things - I'm too busy to stop or in too much of a hurry to allow her to help.
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
I know that all too soon, the requests to braid Barbie's hair, to play with paper dolls, and to dress American Girls will come to a halt. It's already happened with her night-time stories ... she prefers to snuggle into her bed and read her chapter books alone than to read picture books with her brothers. I no longer turn out the lights after kissing her goodnight - now she reads to the agreed upon stopping point, puts her book down, turns out her light, and settles herself in. By herself. And while it is totally amazing to see her mind at work as she devours classic books that I love (like Anne of Green Gables), it also makes my heart hurt.
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears
I constantly worry that I'm failing her - that I'm not doing enough, or loving enough, or being enough for her. Our days are so full - and with the added stress of parenting without Deonne on a day-to-day basis, I have very limited time to spend with her. I'm frazzled, to say the least, and not handling this separation well. At all. And I want nothing more than to sit down with her and talk and hear about her day, answer her questions, make cookies, and braid doll hair - unfortunately our reality is me constantly brushing her off - telling her 'not now' - and not giving her the time she desires. What is that teaching her?
What words of wisdom can I give them?
How can I help to ease their way?
I just hope and pray that she knows in her heart of hearts how much she is loved. How much I adore her, and thank God for her presence in my life each and every day. A good friend of mine recently noted on her daughter's birthday just how much she's learned since she became a mother - how much her child had taught her about life and love. I learn from my daughter every day. Every day she challenges and teaches me, stretches me to my limits, and loves me unconditionally. For that I am eternally grateful.
It's been a very long road, these short eight years, with lots of bumps and a few bruises (figuratively) along the way. We've struggled and pushed, loved and prodded, and finally come to understand what makes this girl tick. Over the summer, we went through the battery of tests and examinations to figure out what makes Our Anna 'Anna.' And following the heels of those testing results, we've implemented a few changes. Since those changes were put into place, I've learned more about my daughter in the past two months than I have in the past two years. I've seen more of her personality, heard more of her ideas, seen more of her strengths and weaknesses - and really truly understood the girl she is becoming.
She is wildly imaginative, and insanely creative. We always knew this - but now we understand the depth. Her thoughts are more focused now, and clear, and when she's imagining a story - she actually gets to the finish line; reaches a conclusion. When she recalls something that happened at school, or a funny thing she read or saw - she makes a point - gets to the punchline. (Often times the joke is second grade humor - and not funny to us in the least - but at least there's a punchline.) And she's able to express herself in written form. When she's mad or angry or hurt or upset - she writes it down. When she's happy or has a secret thought to keep - she keeps track of it in her journal. (Sometimes it's funny/sad to see the things she's written - like the note she wrote to her nanny yesterday when she was mad at her for making her do her homework... oh the unfairness of it...)
She is completely tenderhearted. It might sound a bit harsh to admit - but I had started to wonder about her ability to feel compassion. Prior to working through her recent diagnosis, Anna was sort of numb. She'd say or do something that would hurt anothers feelings - but have no remorse. We'd correct and instruct her to apologize - and she would - with total indifference. Of course she still does or says things that hurt others feelings - she's human like the rest of us - but now, when she realizes it - she is very sorry, visibly upset, and will do her best to right the wrong.
In fact, she shows signs of being over-compassionate at times - very concerned about the world around her - worried about war and strife in countries far away - worried about the economy here at home - concerned about when our house will sell so she can be with her daddy. (Which we've come to learn is part of the 'gifted' part of her diagnosis - being overly sensitive about others around her.)
And, as I've written about numerous times, this girl is wicked smart. Sharp as a tack. Not only able to quickly understand and solve math problems and to read way beyond her age level - but able to put larger and more complex issues together. The things she says, the discussions we have - hey surprise and shock the hell out of me. On a daily basis. I didn't expect to have deep political discussions with my eight-year old daughter.
Yet, despite her ability to process these very involved ideas - she is still very much a little girl. She still loves to play pretend - and will play 'scenes' with her Barbies, figurines, and American Girl dolls for hours upon hours. And I love that. I desperately want to keep her the little girl she is - and not rush to get to the teenage years. Some of her friends are starting to outgrow Barbies and dolls - and prefer to pretend play 'rock star.' I'm happy to see her play that as well - but am so thankful that I hear the strains of Disney music coming from her CD player vs. Taylor Swift or Katy Perry.
She still loves and adores her little brothers - even though she won't often admit that, and has clearly drawn the line in the sand about what is hers and what is theirs. Her 'big' birthday gift this year was a desk and chair for her bedroom - which spurred Deonne and I painting over the Peter Rabbit mural that has been on her wall since her room was her nursery, as well as new bedding (made by yours truly) with a French theme, and artwork/accessories that reflect her adoration of all things French. (Yes, we have a true Francophile - thanks to two years of French lessons...) So now that she has her 'big girl' room, she has also limited access for her brothers. And I can't say I blame her. It's time for her to have her own space - and not have her little brothers underfoot or getting into her 'stuff.' And as much as she says they 'irritate' and 'annoy' her - at the end of the day, she is very watchful of her younger siblings, and loves them with all her heart. (In the photo below she's walking James to his classroom on his very first day of kindergarten.)
So on your eighth birthday my sweet Giovanna, know that you are a love. I wish and hope and pray that you will one day understand just how much you are loved. Just how important you are to me, to your daddy, your brothers, and everyone whose life you touch. You are a fun kid to be around, and the sound of your laughter and giggles is music to my ears.
Happy Happy Birthday my love!
When I was a kid - my mother and I were obsessed with musical theatre. Not only did we see every show available in our limited corner of the world in Eastern Washington state - but we rented videos of the classics. Victor/Victoria. Westside Story. Thoroughly Modern Millie. Oklahoma. Fiddler on the Roof. We'd sit together on the big black vinyl couch in our family room and watch these movies over and over - until I had the songs memorized. My mom always got teary eyed when Tevye belted out 'Sunrise, Sunset' in Fiddler. It was like clockwork - her nose would get red, her eyes watery, and then she'd wipe away the tears with a smile. I never understood why, and in my pre-adolescent mind could never figure out why a song about sunrises and sunsets would make her weepy.
Until now.
Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?
I look at Anna and wonder - when did my little girl stop looking like a child and start looking like a teenager? How are we nearly half-way through our time with her - before she cuts those apron strings and heads out into the big bad world? How is time going so fast? I want to stop the clock - to slow things down - to spend unlimited time doing all of those things I want to do with her that we never seem to find the time for - like cooking and baking, making beaded necklaces, picking wildflowers, having Barbie fashion shows. All too often when she asks me to do one of these things - I'm too busy to stop or in too much of a hurry to allow her to help.
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
I know that all too soon, the requests to braid Barbie's hair, to play with paper dolls, and to dress American Girls will come to a halt. It's already happened with her night-time stories ... she prefers to snuggle into her bed and read her chapter books alone than to read picture books with her brothers. I no longer turn out the lights after kissing her goodnight - now she reads to the agreed upon stopping point, puts her book down, turns out her light, and settles herself in. By herself. And while it is totally amazing to see her mind at work as she devours classic books that I love (like Anne of Green Gables), it also makes my heart hurt.
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears
I constantly worry that I'm failing her - that I'm not doing enough, or loving enough, or being enough for her. Our days are so full - and with the added stress of parenting without Deonne on a day-to-day basis, I have very limited time to spend with her. I'm frazzled, to say the least, and not handling this separation well. At all. And I want nothing more than to sit down with her and talk and hear about her day, answer her questions, make cookies, and braid doll hair - unfortunately our reality is me constantly brushing her off - telling her 'not now' - and not giving her the time she desires. What is that teaching her?
What words of wisdom can I give them?
How can I help to ease their way?
I just hope and pray that she knows in her heart of hearts how much she is loved. How much I adore her, and thank God for her presence in my life each and every day. A good friend of mine recently noted on her daughter's birthday just how much she's learned since she became a mother - how much her child had taught her about life and love. I learn from my daughter every day. Every day she challenges and teaches me, stretches me to my limits, and loves me unconditionally. For that I am eternally grateful.
It's been a very long road, these short eight years, with lots of bumps and a few bruises (figuratively) along the way. We've struggled and pushed, loved and prodded, and finally come to understand what makes this girl tick. Over the summer, we went through the battery of tests and examinations to figure out what makes Our Anna 'Anna.' And following the heels of those testing results, we've implemented a few changes. Since those changes were put into place, I've learned more about my daughter in the past two months than I have in the past two years. I've seen more of her personality, heard more of her ideas, seen more of her strengths and weaknesses - and really truly understood the girl she is becoming.
She is wildly imaginative, and insanely creative. We always knew this - but now we understand the depth. Her thoughts are more focused now, and clear, and when she's imagining a story - she actually gets to the finish line; reaches a conclusion. When she recalls something that happened at school, or a funny thing she read or saw - she makes a point - gets to the punchline. (Often times the joke is second grade humor - and not funny to us in the least - but at least there's a punchline.) And she's able to express herself in written form. When she's mad or angry or hurt or upset - she writes it down. When she's happy or has a secret thought to keep - she keeps track of it in her journal. (Sometimes it's funny/sad to see the things she's written - like the note she wrote to her nanny yesterday when she was mad at her for making her do her homework... oh the unfairness of it...)
She is completely tenderhearted. It might sound a bit harsh to admit - but I had started to wonder about her ability to feel compassion. Prior to working through her recent diagnosis, Anna was sort of numb. She'd say or do something that would hurt anothers feelings - but have no remorse. We'd correct and instruct her to apologize - and she would - with total indifference. Of course she still does or says things that hurt others feelings - she's human like the rest of us - but now, when she realizes it - she is very sorry, visibly upset, and will do her best to right the wrong.
In fact, she shows signs of being over-compassionate at times - very concerned about the world around her - worried about war and strife in countries far away - worried about the economy here at home - concerned about when our house will sell so she can be with her daddy. (Which we've come to learn is part of the 'gifted' part of her diagnosis - being overly sensitive about others around her.)
And, as I've written about numerous times, this girl is wicked smart. Sharp as a tack. Not only able to quickly understand and solve math problems and to read way beyond her age level - but able to put larger and more complex issues together. The things she says, the discussions we have - hey surprise and shock the hell out of me. On a daily basis. I didn't expect to have deep political discussions with my eight-year old daughter.
Yet, despite her ability to process these very involved ideas - she is still very much a little girl. She still loves to play pretend - and will play 'scenes' with her Barbies, figurines, and American Girl dolls for hours upon hours. And I love that. I desperately want to keep her the little girl she is - and not rush to get to the teenage years. Some of her friends are starting to outgrow Barbies and dolls - and prefer to pretend play 'rock star.' I'm happy to see her play that as well - but am so thankful that I hear the strains of Disney music coming from her CD player vs. Taylor Swift or Katy Perry.
She still loves and adores her little brothers - even though she won't often admit that, and has clearly drawn the line in the sand about what is hers and what is theirs. Her 'big' birthday gift this year was a desk and chair for her bedroom - which spurred Deonne and I painting over the Peter Rabbit mural that has been on her wall since her room was her nursery, as well as new bedding (made by yours truly) with a French theme, and artwork/accessories that reflect her adoration of all things French. (Yes, we have a true Francophile - thanks to two years of French lessons...) So now that she has her 'big girl' room, she has also limited access for her brothers. And I can't say I blame her. It's time for her to have her own space - and not have her little brothers underfoot or getting into her 'stuff.' And as much as she says they 'irritate' and 'annoy' her - at the end of the day, she is very watchful of her younger siblings, and loves them with all her heart. (In the photo below she's walking James to his classroom on his very first day of kindergarten.)
So on your eighth birthday my sweet Giovanna, know that you are a love. I wish and hope and pray that you will one day understand just how much you are loved. Just how important you are to me, to your daddy, your brothers, and everyone whose life you touch. You are a fun kid to be around, and the sound of your laughter and giggles is music to my ears.
Happy Happy Birthday my love!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
I Wish I May, I Wish I Might...
... have this wish I wish tonight.
I want my mama.
My daughter turns eight-years old on Friday. Eight. Years. Old.
I clearly remember being eight. I remember my bedroom (yellow climbing roses that covered my bedspread and wallpaper, yellow tinted French-provincial furniture, yellow and brown shag carpet that always reminded me of Rice-a-Roni.) I remember my favorite outfit (white knit pleated short skirt, matching white knit top with puffy sleeves and a black geometric pattern with rainbow hearts... hello... it was 1982.) I remember my 8th birthday party (complete with a white layer cake iced with love by my mother with those gel icing things you could get at the grocery store - of a big fat rainbow and white puffy clouds. I remember my favorite 8th birthday gift (a new Barbie doll, Ken, AND the purple corvette ... hello... it was 1982.)
But mostly I remember my mother's presence. Her smile and laughter. Her touch when she smoothed my hair as she tucked me into bed at night. Her ability to make sense of my blossoming awkward in-between years.
What I can't remember clearly is her voice. It's getting lost in the fuzziness of my memory.
I want my mama. I want to feel her touch on my hair. I want to hear her voice. I want to talk through the craziness that is my life - for assurance that we're making the right decisions. I want her guidance. Her counsel. Her love. Her advice on how to let my daughter go - just enough - without losing touch, and somehow managing to keep her close.
I want to share her namesake's birthday with her. To see the two Giovannas smiling over a glowing birthday cake. To see her eyes sparkle and dance when Anna tells her intricate tales and stories. And I want to celebrate one of my child's birthdays without the cloud of darkness hanging over my head - that perpetual cloud of unfinished business, unsaid words, hurt feelings, broken hearts.
Mommy... I miss you so. And wish, with every falling star and every birthday candle that you could be a part of our lives - and my family a part of yours.
I wish I may, I wish I might...
I want my mama.
My daughter turns eight-years old on Friday. Eight. Years. Old.
I clearly remember being eight. I remember my bedroom (yellow climbing roses that covered my bedspread and wallpaper, yellow tinted French-provincial furniture, yellow and brown shag carpet that always reminded me of Rice-a-Roni.) I remember my favorite outfit (white knit pleated short skirt, matching white knit top with puffy sleeves and a black geometric pattern with rainbow hearts... hello... it was 1982.) I remember my 8th birthday party (complete with a white layer cake iced with love by my mother with those gel icing things you could get at the grocery store - of a big fat rainbow and white puffy clouds. I remember my favorite 8th birthday gift (a new Barbie doll, Ken, AND the purple corvette ... hello... it was 1982.)
But mostly I remember my mother's presence. Her smile and laughter. Her touch when she smoothed my hair as she tucked me into bed at night. Her ability to make sense of my blossoming awkward in-between years.
What I can't remember clearly is her voice. It's getting lost in the fuzziness of my memory.
I want my mama. I want to feel her touch on my hair. I want to hear her voice. I want to talk through the craziness that is my life - for assurance that we're making the right decisions. I want her guidance. Her counsel. Her love. Her advice on how to let my daughter go - just enough - without losing touch, and somehow managing to keep her close.
I want to share her namesake's birthday with her. To see the two Giovannas smiling over a glowing birthday cake. To see her eyes sparkle and dance when Anna tells her intricate tales and stories. And I want to celebrate one of my child's birthdays without the cloud of darkness hanging over my head - that perpetual cloud of unfinished business, unsaid words, hurt feelings, broken hearts.
Mommy... I miss you so. And wish, with every falling star and every birthday candle that you could be a part of our lives - and my family a part of yours.
I wish I may, I wish I might...
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