The art of dish washing (in honor of my Mom)

You mean you don’t have a dishwasher? You actually wash them all by hand? (Me? No. But my Mom does) This was a common question back in the day growing up as a child in Sleepy Eye. But we did have a dishwasher in our house. It was mustard yellow and built into the counter-top but I don’t have one memory of it being used. Mom would always say “Oh yeah that thing broke right away and we just never fixed it.” We had a new “dish washer” alright, it came with a face and 2 working hands. This very scenario could easily be the definition of the mind of my Mother. Why pay money to fix something when there is a sink with running water, bottle of soap, and a drawer full of cloths and towels? She made do with what she had. Always did. There would be duct taped dressed spatulas. Tape wrapped remote controls. Drawers that required a crafty technique upon opening lest they unhinge and drop off the hinge. Tiny chips in tiles that had no intentions of being repaired. The heat worked, there was wood for the fire, the clothes were clean, and there was always food on the table. She was a simple woman who loved the thrifty way of life and stretching a dollar as far as she could. But when I think of memories with my lovely Mom in that house it was the dish-washing thing that sticks out a lot in my mind....

I think back to all the years growing up in that house and how often I saw the back of her head at the sink. A big puffy brown head of hair scrubbing up dishes. Drying each one by hand with the embroidered white towels she sewed herself. She would scrub and scrub at the greased on remains of casseroles and lasagnas and never once complain about it. I never once in my life saw a dirty dish in the sink or on the counter. She would immediately wash, dry, and put away. The counter tops were clean and not a crumb could be spotted on the floor. She swept the floor like she washed dishes. Immediately. Did she love it? A part of me thinks she found pride in being tidy, being a good housewife. Was that her passion?

These are the things that kill me. The things I’ll always wonder about her. Did she have any dreams? Aspirations? Untapped desires? Or was her life as a housewife all she needed? What did she think about while scrubbing those pans?

I feel her presence behind my back when I’m at the sink washing my own dishes, which I have only begun doing with tenderness since she died. When she was alive I used my dishwasher 99% of the time. When I miss her, I fill up the sink. I feel a connection to her when I have my hands in the hot water and I know she’s looking over my shoulder when I cook and bake, as the kitchen is her domain. Her reign.

When I am at the sink with the warm sudsy water gliding over my fingers and I look down at my hands I see “her” hands. I feel like a piece of her enters me. Like I become her. I connect to her, feel her thoughts, smell her hair. It’s that chill you get under your skin where your hair lifts and your back tingles up. I bet she loves to see me washing dishes with my hands, I can feel her love envelope me when I’m at the sink. Sometimes I get this calm serene feeling. Like a meditative focus on each dish. Each glass, each pan, calms my mind in a unique way. Maybe that’s why she liked doing the dishes? Or perhaps she liked the heater kicking on by her feet (I love that part). It was a time to be alone with your thoughts, not face anyone, just focus on the swishing warmth of water on your skin and the task of cleaning dishes. I wonder how many times she cried while doing dishes, knowing no one would see it. Does she see me when I cry?

It does something to your mind when you’re standing there washing dishes. It calms you. It takes your thoughts away. I dream a little. I remember. I cry. I feel a longing to watch my Mom wash dishes one more time. To thank her for doing so because I never did that. Not once. These are the tears that I shed, the drops of silly little things you never got to say. Oh by the way Mom, thanks for washing my cereal bowl. Those words never came out. I never thought I’d miss the things I miss. Sometimes I think of her taking the broom out of the closet and sweeping the kitchen floor and it makes me want to bawl my eyes out. The things I long to see again are the simple ones. Her joy in doing the little things was when she was the most content.

So this whole dish-washing thing? It reminds me that I am a piece of her, I have a commonality with her, I am my mother’s daughter with the same hands, the same soft heart, and the same blood. Dish washing. It cleanses more than dishes. To me it’s a therapeutic work of art, helping to cleanse my mind and wipe away the sorrow that is imbedded in my heart while reuniting memories of the simple sweetness of my Mom.

And I will always wonder how in the hell she got those black stains off the bottoms of pans! I may have her hands, but I sure as hell don’t have her patience. She would scrub a pan 1000 times over until it sparkled. Me? I’d just go buy a new pan. And I know she’d shake her head at this and say “Oh Melanie....” which makes me miss her even more.... and giggle at the same time.

Oh really? Allow me to fill that in....

 

I’ll make this a quick one: After spending 2 days at The Water Park with my 7 yr. old son going down the waterslide 100+ times in 8 hours, I had some time to “observe” the ways of the water park and have concocted some mental rules that I feel should be listed on this empty sign....Ok here goes. *Note: the red print is my side thoughts related to said RULES.

1.) Please don’t run, but if you may and you crack your head open on the cement, we are not liable.

I say this because even though I have heard every life guard say repeatedly over and over and over “No running!” to every single kid that jutted past them, so many times in fact that they would often utter it in a half slur with an exhausted I-gotta-say-it-but-whateVer type of tone. It goes without saying that the typical NO RUNNING rule is practically impossible! It’s like asking a kid to try and NOT keep their eyes open on Christmas Eve. EVERY kid runs. They are excited and wired and couldn’t care less.

2.) Just because we’re dressed in a red life guard uniform don’t expect us to save your kid from drowning.

Between seeing these supposed life guards daze off into the sunny sky, check their phone, and flirt with the blonde teeny boppers in little coral bikinis, their main objective is not so much watching your children as is flexing their abs and workin’ their tan.
I also witnessed one 4 yr. old little girl almost drown while the lifeguard did NOTHING and the child’s Mom had to go running in full attire, with shoes/socks on and jump in to save her child. I scolded the lifeguard because I would NOT bite my tongue on that one.
3.) Our water is full of urine, know that before diving in.

This is a given. Piss in the pool? It happens. I know this for fact. My chair was in walking path of the restrooms and within a 4 hour span I did not see ONE child step out of the pool to go use the restroom, although they sucked down multiple blue icees and bottles of soda. I can say for certain that out of any public establishment, swimming pools probably have to change their toilet paper rolls the least. I'd guess less than one toilet paper roll per potty on a monthly basis.

4.) Kids will budge in line, get over it. We’re too busy checking our phones to care.

Um, so yeah. Kids were budging in front of the kid and I at the water slide off and on throughout the day and at one point I had to “speak their language” and budge right back and say “hey Mr. my-trunks-are-too-small-that-my-ass-hangs out, get your budgey ass in the back of the line!” OK, so I didn’t say it like that, instead I just casually grabbed him by the arm and gently placed him back where he belonged, kindly reminding him that there is a LINE... (hello life guards isn’t that YOUR job?)

5.) We must take breaks every hour to “check” the water, but what we really want is for you to buy our over-priced hot dogs, pretzels, and ice cream sandwiches because the kids love that shit.

This is so obvious it’s ridiculous. Um, no outside food or drink is allowed and of course kids smell the grilled goodies and when they see any iced drink in the colors of blue or purple they flock to that crap like an addict looking for their next fix. It works though as I found myself paying $2 for a bag of chips containing 4 (5 if you count the crumbs) doritos per bag. And drumsticks. Fritos. Ice pops. I’m a sucker!

OK so there’s my pool rules. But the funniest thing I observed yesterday had to be the Zak Effron (or Brandon Walsh depending on your era) wanna-be who was tanned up like a Ken doll, hair in the perfect coif with a side of 6-pack abs wearing that confused look on his face by arching up his perfectly textured brows every time he looked someone in the eye because he thinks it makes him look sexy. Anyhow, so he was upset because another life-guard tried to splash him and was all like “dude, don’t try and f*#k with my ‘do.” Lifeguards worried about ruining their hair? Um, kinda like a farmer wanting to keep his hands clean. It goes with the job "dude".

Amidst all the humor and ridiculousness that occurs at water parks with blank rule boards, too tiny swimsuits, and aloof life guards I can honestly say that whipping down water slides and rope climbing on floating rocks with my kiddo has been one of the most memorable times I have had this summer. Even though I got chlorine shot up my nose, nearly lost my bikini top, and banged my ear on the side of the handrail, I couldn’t stop smiling. Being with the kid brings the kid out in and there’s no greater feeling than being carefree.
*Oh, and by the way Landon and I used the restroom 3 times each day we were there. He will never pee in a pool because I told him that when the lifeguards "check the water" during the 15 minute break they are checking for pee and they can test it to see who it came from. If they found out the pee is yours, they announce it over a big speaker and you get kicked out of the water park. I may act like a 7 yr. old on the water slide, but I'm still a genius at my parental psychology :)

37 years and counting...

I have been breathing air into my lungs for 37 years. THIRTY SEVEN. Birthdays have been known to make me cry since the age of 23 although I have no inkling as to why. I’m comfortable with the whole “age is just a number” stance and have converted my way of thinking from “birthdays signify another year closer to death” into “birthdays are an invitation to another year of life.” And so another year bites the dust and a new year welcomes me with open arms. Lovely.

I’m not going to sit here and blog about how my lovely eye wrinkles are a sign of all the years I smiled because I’m likely to buy every cream on the market to diminish crow’s feet. I’m sure one day down the road I’ll type a blog embracing my laugh lines, just not in the mood as of yet. Where I am at today, at the remarkable age of 37 (I’m still here! Eek!) is a place of feeling blessed for the little things. It’s quite simple actually. I feel better than I ever have in my whole life health-wise (although I sense a lot of cake eating in my future) and my mind is more clear, my heart more hopeful. Wounds are healing. Doors are opening. And life goes on. 

In my quest to focus on the positive I am going to attempt to quickly type as fast as I can 37 things I am grateful for in my life. I am also going to time myself because if someone is truly thankful for as many things as I claim to be they should just burst out of my brain onto these keys like a magical flow of effortless thanks. I will not go back and erase any of them. I am going to accept that some may sound ridiculous but I’m not going to allow myself to over-think my first instinct and double guess my gut feeling (I tend to do that sometimes!). Ok so here it goes! It is 8:03 a.m. July 6th 2014.

1.) My family. Adorable son, hubby, and chihuahua Nico and all my lovely siblings and their children! My Dad and my Mom who I know is watching over me! (tears are already welling up) Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts....

2.) My house. It’s cozy in all ways. This house has provided me with the best memories of my life! Plus we are going to remodel the outside and this gets me very excited!

3.) My job. I spend over 1/2 or more of my waking hours there!

4.) Sunshine in Minneapolis. There is nothing better than being able to sit outside in my hammock with a good book and the chirp of birds while the sun dances away with the clouds. I love it.

5.) The smell of freshly cut grass! I could inhale it all day.

6.) The smell of a grill. I no longer partake in the eating of animals but the smell of a grill fills my heart with childhood memories and I can almost feel the heat of the cement patio on my bare feet at my parents house in Sleepy Eye every time I smell it!

7.) Water. Clean water that is. It’s something we take for granted in this country and I am thankful for every time I can sip clean purified water because I know the difficulty and struggle that people around the world must go through to enjoy this luxury.

8.) Hot water. Again. Until you do not have this you don’t understand the worth. Being able to take a hot shower every morning is one of my most pleasurable moments of the day. Well, it may have something to do with my hot chocolate body scrub as well. Damn I love the smell of that stuff.

9.) Online shopping. UGH! My love/hate relationship with shopping gets all twisted here. I shop online too much but I love the ability to do so!! Sometimes I get things in the mail that I forgot I ordered....That is my only confession on this blog! Damn.

10.) Iced lattes. Or any delectable coffee shop drink that is warm and creamy. I know that coffee shops are overpriced but I still love them. Guilty pleasure.

11.) My vehicle. My Mazda CX7 has been so good to me. It’s 7 years old but I still feel like it’s brand new. I also still get that weird feeling of excitement when I turn the key as I did as a 16 yr. old who first got her license. Strange haha! I do love to drive. (Unless I’m with the hubby, then I prefer he drive so that I can read my magazines)

12.) Magazines! Haha. I’m thankful for the little tid bits of gossip I can read (I know it’s only 1/2 true but get a kick out of it) and all the pretty clothes on the glossy pages of which I cannot afford to own myself. Fashion is like art to me. I’m a chronic magazine flipper.

13.) Netflix. How awesome is it to be able to watch shows on demand? I would have killed for this as a kid! I love the moments where I can pull up netflix on my computer, shut the office door and curl up with my blanket and watch a movie just by myself.

14.) My cell phone (sensing a technology turn here). I would be lost without my cell phone. Between the apps and camera and instagram and my alarm clock--I just love it in it’s entirety. iphones rock.
I sometimes even make phone calls on it (but this is rare).

15.) Coconut. No I’m serious here. I love any and all things coconut and my heart flutters at the smell of it. I am forever thankful for my discovery of Nutiva brand coconut oil I cannot even tell you. I use it for cooking, on popcorn, body butter, home-made lip plumper, scar removal, etc. It is the best thing on the planet. Also love coconut water, coconut body scrubs, or shredded coconut (of which I put in all my granola bars, oatmeals, protein shakes) A healthy love is a love worth holding on to :)

16.) Vegan pizza. I try to be vegan but it’s difficult. The couple restaurants in our area that provide vegan pizza are phenomenal! The cheese they make is way better than any typical mozzarella.

17.) My shoulders. Ok I’m trying to do this fast people so in a quick moment of thinking I opted for this as something I am thankful for because they don’t slouch nor have they ever. My clavicle bone is very straight in it’s structure- almost like a hangar to which my shoulders drape over. They make me appear more confidant than I am, so thank-you shoulders :)

18.) My brown eyes even though they don’t have 20/20 vision (yes I’ve had lasik and it failed. Not happy about that!!) But still thankful that I am not blind and that I can see a computer and read without having to put on my glasses.

19.) My teeth! My teeth saved my parents a lot of money, because they came in perfectly straight and I never had any issues with my mouth. My dentist Tom Larson back in Sleepy Eye used to tell me I had the best teeth in town. (If he said this to anyone else, I’d rather not know about it so that I can keep feeling like a star for something) Thanks.

20.) My bike. I love my bike and am so thankful to live in a neighborhood where I can ride around! I love pedaling and the breeze and the sounds of birds and the smell of the flowers and all that. I love my bike like a kid loves a cabbage patch doll. Seriously.

21.) Vegetables. I mean it. I love all of them (except radishes) I am so thankful for the abundance of fresh vegetables available to us! Organic of course. If someone told me I could never have another vegetable I would fall into a deep and dark depression and wither up into a ball of dust and sorrow.

22.) Fruit too, can’t forget the fruit. Honeydew and cantaloupe chopped up in cubes and eaten with a fork are pure perfection.

23.) OMG this is getting harder than I thought. 37 things?! Why did I pick my age? I should have done 20. Anyways. I am thankful for my ability to type up blogs and share them on facebook. When I was a kid this awesome technology did not exist. I had to use a pen and called it a journal. Now I can share my thoughts with everyone! Although, that may not always be a good thing....

24.) Oh! Vodka. Yes I am thankful for vodka. You can make vodka lemonades, vodka sunrise, vodka cranberries. Cold cocktail on a hot day? Yes please.

25.) SHOES! Oh my how could I forget shoes! They make me the proper height! I love this happy “solefull” accessory. I often buy shoes first and then the outfit. My feet can wear heels all day long and it feels perfectly natural. Talk to me in another ten years and I’ll keep my fingers crossed that it doesn't change.

26.) Skinny jeans. I love them. They go with everything and I love a tapered ankle since my calves are tiny. I am a skinny jean girl.

27.) Consigment shops. So thankful for these. They’re fabulous really. Get money back for something you know you’ll never wear again? As it should be!
28.) Hugs, kisses, and snuggles. Aaaaahhhh of course I had to go there! Who doesn’t love being able to curl up on the couch with the ones they love and and warm puppy on their lap?! Turn on The Notebook and I’m in heaven.

29.) Ryan Gosling. Yup. I am thankful he was put on this planet and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

30.) Peanut butter. I mean. C’mon. Warm peanut butter on toast is the ultimate soul food and I’ve only made better creations with it as I’ve gotten older. My home-made peanut butter cups should make me a millionaire.  With or without nuts I’m in love. Oh and back to the coconut thing I make a home-made almond joy bar that is to DIE for. My sweet tooth is starting to take over the typing now....

31.) Sunsets. How great is it that we get to see a free display of moving art practically every day of our life? I could look at pictures of sunsets for hours. I love the colors and the magic of it all. Like a golden globe of beaming light gets tired and descends into a slumber by casting a multitude of colors and shadows upon the earth. My heart is like that sometimes. A beating sunset.

32.) Books. They are my life. There has never (that I recall) been a point in my life since the age of 7 where I was not reading a book. Now I read 3 or more at a time. They are knowledge and escape at once. Books have saved me and healed me in a multitude of ways through the course of my life. I need to have a house with a library!

33.) I am thankful for my sisters. I am so thankful for my sisters I feel like this could completely take over the entire blog and I ramble on for another ten pages. I love how they accept me and share my memories and how sometimes I’ll catch a glimpse of one of them doing something and it makes me think of myself. I love how we grow up together and create our own distinct lives and yet we are still those same little girls in our hearts. I am so thankful for having them...now I’m tearing up again! Happy thoughts...happy thoughts...

34.) Airplanes! Ok yes. Airplanes. For without them I would not be able to fly to such beautiful destinations! One of which is NY where I’m going next week to see my sister Jenny and the anticipation feels like a there’s juggler in my tummy. Yay!

35.) My bed. Yes I am very thankful for my king size bed topped with fluffy white blankets and firm satin pillows. It is what I look forward to all day long. It’s like a big hug at the end of my day. Yes I smile when I crawl in.

36.) Two more to go! OK let me think here. I am thankful for.....for.....baking! I love to bake and create and use my hands and smell something in the oven. I am thankful that my co-workers like sweets so that they eat the birthday cakes I make them. I am thankful for my oven....it has been very sweet to me :)

37.) FINALLY! This took forever! OK the final thing I am thankful for (and this may sound silly) is my attitude and my ability to say what I want and not be affected by other people’s judgements about me. That being said, I am really super thankful that this blog is finally over. No grand finale or witty words of wisdom at the end. It’s too damn early for this and I need to refill my coffee.

And well. It’s my birthday so I can do whatever the hell I want.

Toodles!

*End time 8:41 (hey that’s almost 37 minutes! crazy)

ihop, ihope, iwon't ever go there again: A lesson on sugar

ihop. It is the epitome of everything I stand against nutritional wise. And yet, I was a patron there this morning. It all started like this....

My sweet little Landon after being sick all week long, couch-ridden and soup sipping the days away while watching a marathon of Sponge Bob on Nickelodeon (can’t stand that show by the way!) has finally started to come around and feel human again. He has been inundated with those damn ihop commercials showing that new cinnamon roll brioche french toast thing and knows that we pass this restaurant on the way to school every day. He even asked one morning “Mommy what does i hope mean?” To which I responded, “that’s ihop honey, it’s a restaurant.” He retained this info and when he saw the commercial it clicked and he wanted to eat there.

High fructose corn syrup, artificial sweeteners, and zero nutritional value is what I see. He sees whip cream and syrup and goes all googly eyed. He insisted we go there this morning and so I figured we’d do the damn thing. I hopped out of bed, threw on a baseball cap and some chap stick and out we went by 7:30 a.m. (I was overdressed, but that’s another blog)

He couldn’t decide what to get with the overwhelming photos of berries and cream and multi-colored syrups and waffles, and pancakes, and chocolate oh-my! Knowing in my head that he will not feel good after eating this “looks-like-food-but-is-only-chemicals” type of fare I let him get whatever the hell he wanted. He got pancakes with whip cream and that ridiculous cinnamon french toast thing which is really fried cinnamon rolls with an inch of cinnamon and white frosting on the top. I got the seasonal fruit which was really just 4 chunks of canned oranges and one piece of honeydew for $4.99. (WTF! But that’s another blog too)

His eyes lit up when the plates hit the table and he thought he was in for a real treat!

Five bites in I see his face start to change. I know he doesn’t feel good. He say “Mommy I have a tummy ache.” I ask why he thinks he does and he says “I think it’s those pancakes. It tastes like they’re made of sugar. Can we go now?”

He didn’t even want to take the leftovers. As I pulled out of the parking lot I asked him if he’d ever want to go there again and he said “No. I don’t think that food is good at all.” (thank you god) Then we laughed about how excited he was to get there and had been talking about it for 2 days only to take a few bites and think it was gross.” It was pretty funny!

So I figured the $25 I spent on fake food, taught a very valuable lesson on how sugar can effect how you feel. He even said “Mommy every time I see that commercial for ihop I’m going to wanna puke.”
(he's so dramamtic, wonder where he gets it?)

Hmmm......now if only I can figure out how to get him to stop watching Sponge Bob.

For the love of potato chips and high heels

Ok so I’m not always a fan of the whole bribery thing, oh wait that’s a lie. I’m an expert at it.  I just don’t always exert the obviousness of my persuasions. But hey, my kid is an easy target with his sweet little heart and eager to please persona. I use it to my advantage because, well I’m the parent and I can do what I want.

Sooo....the last thing I wanted to do after working a 10 hour day (twice in a row now) whilst wearing my skinny little stiletto heels (which are best fit for a runway than a dental lab) was to make a Target run. Buuuut Mommy knew she could go for a little pampering so it’s an easy “Target” to utilize my bribing skills. Besides I needed to see if they have the OPI Red Hot Raven nail polish to doctor up this manicure from last weekend that is chipping apart at the tips.

No they did not have my shade. Booo!

Filling up the cart with a bundle of unnecessary impulse buys my feet were burning at the soles, pinching at the arches and ready to crumble into a mass of bones and tendons if I didn’t get out of these godforsaken heels. Before I even opened my mouth to see if the kid wanted a treat in exchange for a foot rub he decides to pipe up and say “Hey Mommy, can I get some Lays potato chips? I’ll give you a reeeeaally long foot rub.” Cue toothless grin. And was that a wink I saw? Little stinker has a bit of his Mommy in him. Trying to beat me at my own game! I thought I made the bribes here?

So we had a little deal off: No chips before the foot rub. With which he countered a “no foot rub unless I eat the chips first.” What?! We finally settled on a deal of “If you give me a really good foot rub on the right foot you get to eat 5 chips and if you do an even better job on the left food you get double that amount.” Note my attention to detail here in sneaking in some mathematics.
Also, broken chips don’t count and he gets to pick them out. We gave a firm hand shake and tossed the chips in the cart.

The woman with Doritos in hand dropped her jaw and said “Damn girl, I should be takin’ notes.”

Little did she know that the ice cream in the cart is about to get me a full on back massage with lavendar oil and heated sheets.

Potato chips + ice cream = Foot massage and back rub for the bargain price of $5. Oh wait, did I just throw in another math equation?

Damn I’m good.

Memories with Marnee (Cheers to 39 years!)

Sisters have an understanding of each other that is undefinable to those who are not of the same blood, bonded by the same memories, and fused with similar pasts. Only sisters know what underwear one wore at the age of 7, what things made them cry after school, what the name of your first cabbage patch doll was, and how many mashed potatoes you would eat in one sitting.

Sisters are the only ones who know exactly what you’re talking about when you start off by saying “Remember that time when....”

These are the joys of sisterhood. I was fortunate to be blessed with three. Marnee is the one closest to my age and TODAY is her birthday. Since it’s Sunday and I have the time, she gets this special blog of which I will detail some of my “Remember when”  memories of which I share with this extraordinary human being. I apologize in advance for any embarrassment this may cause. You know I love you.

Remember how we used to cook the best snack on the planet by putting a kettle on the stove and heating up chocolate chips and peanut butter and mixing it with Rice Krispies and Corn Flakes and eating it with a spoon?

Remember how our sheets were so full of static electricity that we would give ourselves shocks by whipping the covers up and down on our bed and creating our own lightening storm? We would try to start a fire but it never worked...

Remember how we didn’t have air conditioning for the majority of our life in that house?!  We had that big loud floor fan blow on us but the air was still hot and we thought we were going to melt? Remember when we finally got air conditioning and thought we entered heaven?!

Remember that time when there was a snake in our bedroom? I’m pretty sure our screams were heard within a 5 mile radius! I’ll never forget Dad trying to find it in my shoes, thinking I was screaming over a black shoe lace and Mom was armed with a garden hoe. Ha!

Remember how we used to unknowingly pollute our lungs with Aqua Net hairspray and then frantically wave our hand in front of our nose as if that would somehow clear the air?

Remember that time Jenny talked us into opening our Christmas presents when Dad was at work and Mom was in Mexico and then we re-wrapped them? Yeah, me neither.

Remember sitting under Mom’s old fashioned hair dryer after our baths and singing into the big hood top of it to make it sound like we were professional singers?


Remember playing tennis on the street? We would hit the ball back and forth for hours and if one of us missed it the person on the side by the hill would have to run all the way down the hill to get it? That was so fun!

Remember watching The Wizard of Oz together EVERY year it was on television and laughing uncontrollably at the lion running through the glass window?

Remember playing those little string games with our fingers? I always won right?

Remember that time you wrote a letter to Emmanuel Lewis (Webster) and he actually wrote you back on floral stationary of his Mom’s? That was real right? I think he said you were one of the only people who wrote him an actual fan letter. That was awesome!

Remember how we used to wake up every morning before school and do that aerobics video with the woman in the blue leotard? I can still remember how it starts and ends!

Remember your obsession with rice cakes? How about your paranoia of germs? I do :)

Remember that phase you went through where you hated your name. Then you wanted to change how it was spelled and have it be M-A-R-N-I-E or M-A-R-N-I. I remember you writing it that way for awhile. Then you got over it and went back to Marnee.

Remember that time at the cabin when we rowed ourselves out in that inflatable boat and got all bit up by those little bugs? I think they were jiggers or chiggers or something and we itched for days. That sucked!!

Remember that time we were fishing with Dad and somehow managed to tangle up our lines under the boat even though they were cast on opposite sides? I thought Dad was going to explode with irritation and never take us fishing again! Oh wait, I think that was the last time he took us fishing...

Remember that time Mom was laying on the dock in the sun and Dad told her there was a leech on her leg? She jumped so high she flew up right off the dock and fell into the water!

Remember the time we were on vacation and met those guys at the beach and we went motorcycling with them even though we knew them for 5 minutes? We didn’t even wear helmets and had no clue if they were serial killers or not. Ha!

Remember when we got our phone in our room. It was pink with white buttons. We thought it was the coolest thing ever. Remember trying to listen in on Jenny’s phone calls? Oh wait, we would never do such a thing.

Remember that time we were strawberry picking at Denny&Janice’s with Grandma and you suddenly came up with the best invention in the world called “The Strawberry picker.” It was some tool that would pick strawberries with this handle contraption and you even drew out this diagram of it and thought it was some million dollar idea. I have a confession: You were so enthusiastic about it that I smiled and nodded along with excitement but the truth is, I didn’t understand what the hell you were talking about and just pretended to think it was brilliant to not hurt your feelings. ‘Bet you forgot all about it anyways seeings how you’re not a millionaire right?

Oh the funny memories of childhood we have!! Aren’t they great?!

The best part is that now there are pieces of you in all of your five children and I can’t wait to meet the one growing in your belly! Sometimes the way Emma’s eyes jet around with excitement or how Caroline gets that look on her face...it makes me feel like I’m a kid with you again. They are you. The fact that you are recreated in all these lovely children makes me feel even luckier. Thank you for being such a baby-maker, it enlightens my life!

But what I most love about you is this: When I look back on our life together, growing up and playing Monopoly and dancing to Madonna songs, watching Who’s The Boss and Growing Pains and eating an entire batch of Mom’s chocolate chip cookies without an ounce of guilt. Between becoming adults and getting married and having kids and all that I can honestly say that every memory I have with you is GOOD. That’s the truth. If we ever fought, I don’t even remember it. The good times obviously out-weighed any bad. I remember laughing. A LOT. Even when you were a nanny out in NY or at college in SD we always wrote each other and called each other and whenever we were on the phone everyone at my apartment would know it was you just by the way I laughed. Nobody could make me lose my breath like you could in laughter. I think we just “get each other” in that special way where nothing can be offensive and everything we feel and say is accepted. Its a sisterly love. So on this special day I wish you the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER (so cliche!) and many more to come. Thank you for being YOU Marnee.

(I’m glad you never changed your name. I think it’s beautiful and unique. Just like you)

Just another day....for everybody else.

To everyone else it feels like just another day in March. Title it “hump day” or “mid week” or just a plain old Wednesday. The sun rises and sets. Work shifts start and end. Good mornings and good nights are exchanged. Stop lights turn. Coffee cups empty. Shoes are tied. Papers read. A normal old Wednesday welcomes normal old routines for people all around this big vast universe. Not to me though. This little sticker that has been stuck on my window for the past 90 or so days has been a constant reminder of a looming date that holds a lot more significance than when I need my next oil change. I almost ripped it off a few times because I felt tiny scratches on my heart when I used to look at it. Then I changed my way of thinking. I chose to not glare at it with dread anymore, but rather inhale it’s presence with tiny glances of remembrance, honor, and LOVE.

This day the 12th of March will mark another “year passed” of how long my Mom has been gone. This marks year #2. My broken heart has not broken me. I have survived. My heart kept ticking along even though the heart that brought me into this world had stopped. I have carried on for 730 days and counting since we put her to rest and covered her with the earth. I think about her every single day and every single day I miss her but as the saying goes: Time heals all wounds. My heart used to bleed. Then it bruised. Now it feels like a scar has formed. It still throbs when it beats while that lump gets caught in my throat on the days where I miss her extra hard. Like today. I expect that though, I embrace it like I embrace the memories we have. Pain comes without invitation and I have learned to just breathe it in and exhale it out until it slowly subsides.

It made me realize that this ONE day, this day that brings up thoughts of loss and pain is just a number on a calendar. It doesn’t have to be this day where I sling my head down, bury it in my hands and bawl my eyes out since it is the anniversary of her death. Am I supposed to hurt more on this day than I did yesterday or tomorrow? It hurts all the damn time. It just marks a point with the number thing. I hate numbers. I realize that every day of the year is THAT DAY to someone. Every day is an anniversary to someone's loss of a loved one. I could be buying a coffee and the person handing it to me could have lost a brother 3 years ago from THAT DAY. The mailman could be dropping letters in boxes on THAT DAY where he lost his mother. Every day is a day is day is a day. Truly though. You never know what someone is going through. Especially people like me who tend to dress their sorrow with a veil and only lift it on rare occasions for brief moments less they completely fall apart into a thousand pieces of which cannot be reassembled. It’s much easier to be a brick than a spiderweb.

So, this will always be THAT DAY though. For me. The day where I feel a deep sense of loving acknowledgment for all the wonderful gifts of wisdom and laughter that my Mom blessed me with and then sorrow for all the time that was so wistfully stolen from us. This is HER DAY. I love her with such deep and endless longing that it can only grow stronger as time goes on. I know she feels it as I feel her. We connect on new levels in new ways with new lessons as time goes on. I feel new feelings and discover new mysteries from her departure. It’s magical how love can grow after death. Our eyes may not meet, but our souls? They connect more than I ever deemed possible.

So yes. This is a significant day for me. But numbers on the clock will change, the day will darken and Thursday March 13th will arrive. That will be someone else’s day that makes their heart quiver with remembrance.

The sun will rise. I will stretch my arms, drink my coffee, take the dog out, kiss my son and husband, drive to work, and carry on with life along with the rest of the world.  And in another 364 days, MY DAY will come again and the love for my Mother will intertwine itself within the imbedded memories of that toughened heart that beats beneath a beautiful scar.

Then I’ll look at that sticker on my window and hear the voice of my mother echo in that sweet tone that sounds like she’s “trying not to tell me what to do but is still concerned about my choices” voice of hers “Melanie, you should probably schedule an oil change.”