Seasons...
Well, I’m looking forward for spring, but when I woke up this morning and opened the door to go feed the cats and give Son #2’s dog food, whose name is “Bounce a Little,” but it takes quite a lot to feed him. I have to watch, or the cats wouldn’t get a bite!
I enjoy fall and winter when Santa comes, but spring is my favorite.

The Last Word: I enjoy them all! – O.T.

The View From Here

A few Mother’s Day thoughts...
If I could listen to my mother again or even speak to her, I would tell her she was right about a lot of things. The advice she gave me 30 or 40 years ago was really true, and soundly based on life experiences.
For my friends who still have mothers in their lives I would tell them to listen more and talk less, because someday she won’t be telling you what to do anymore, and you are going to miss her.
When I was a little girl and would moan and groan when she had chores for me or told me what to do, she would say that someday I would miss those days of childhood when I had no responsibilities. She would tell me I should enjoy the days of school, playing, and friends because someday I would have work, a husband, maybe babies of my own, and a house to clean. She told me to go outside and play while I could. It was sound advice.
One of the most important tips was to enjoy my life because everybody just gets this one chance, and it goes by very fast. My life seemed to drag by with long days of nothing to do, then when I grew up and got overwhelmed by everything, I found out she was right. Things sped up so fast I sometimes did not know what day it was. I had to learn to slow down and take things in stride and make time for fun.
Learning that it was okay to make mistakes was something I did not take so well when I was younger. I think all of us expect so much and we set such lofty goals we can’t reach all of them. Sometimes we can’t get to the top of the hill, but it is okay. Mistakes just free us up to do something else.
“Don’t worry so much,” she said. I am still struggling with this, but I have learned that life will rush past me and all that is really important are the little things like how the breeze feels and how the seagulls sound on the beach. The way snowflakes covered my hair and landed on my lips while walking in the snow and the perfume of a summer rose are things that bring peace and soulful reflection.
She told me that it was not important to be the prettiest girl, but more important to be fun, and nice to everybody. When times get tough, I learned to make laughing a priority. I found out some 30 years later that those funny stories are the ones my friends and family remember and still talk about.
My mother taught me to say thank you and to write thank you notes. Through her I learned that we all grow up really fast and we move away and never get to live in our old place with our mom and dad again, and as for me, I missed it sometimes.
When I asked her at about the age of 10 if I would ever have a boyfriend, she told me to ignore that mean boy who kept picking on me and calling me skinny because someday I would see him again and he would be fat and bald. She was right, and I laughed when he came up to me at a high school reunion and told me how beautiful I was. I remembered what she said those decades ago.
Finally, she told me during those terrible teen years that things would get better, and of course they did, but growing up is hard, and being a grown up is even harder. She was right about most things.
I think mothers do know a lot of things, and they are so much smarter than we as kids think they are. We really find out how intelligent they are when we get a family of our own.
So, on this Mother’s Day, celebrate if you have a mother, and if you do not, go visit a friend who has one. Sharing works on these types of holidays.
 

Mothers are unique
Not too many mothers I know have been famous for being a Mother. That’s understandable. Mothers are so unique, and the type they become can be greatly determined by the children they bear.
I always called myself a daddy’s girl and have grieved for this man forever. But now that my mother is gone, I find myself thinking about calling her, having something to tell that only she can hear, knowing how she would sympathize with a predicament I’m in. It is lonely once Mama is gone.
Few alive with parents deceased can say, “I’m glad I spent so much time with them; I’m happy I called at least once a week and remembered them at holidays with a trip, a call, or a card. I’m really proud I almost knew when they had problems or were hurting; I don’t regret any time I spent with them which was often.”
Guilt can grab my emotions when I’m least expecting it. Why didn’t I know that Mother’s being able to sew was a rare quality, that I had nicely made clothes. Did I ever realized she washed my clothes and took spots out I didn’t know existed? She probably didn’t feel like taking me out of town for something I just had to have, but we went. Was she ever sick? I can’t remember a day while living at home. And when I was ill, her world stopped until I became well.
My guilt isn’t as bad as it could be. We knew our parents wouldn’t be around always. Every week possible we would gather the children we could, and go see each set of grandparents in different towns. We did not have to stay for hours, but we were genuinely interested in them and wanted them to know they were loved. Our parents were priorities in our life. They knew it. We knew it.
My children have good memories of being at their grandparents as usually cousins and other relatives came by. If we couldn’t make the trip, we could use that miraculous instrument, the telephone. The telephone calls are mainly what I count on now from my own.
In one generation the changes among families seem drastically different. Good parenting is evident in the grandchildren; everybody is taken care of, but priorities have changed. Activities for children have replaced church services, family visits, free time, much more.
Maybe it’s no one’s fault. Maybe it is everyone’s fault. With the fast changes hitting daily, this relationship with grown children may be the best it will ever be.
I had heard once a daughter, always a daughter, but a son is only a son until he marries. I didn’t believe this as my husband would not have let any wife keep him from seeing his mother. Love between the two was sweet, endearing, and unconditional. With eight children, the woman had this same relationship with each. This woman was cherished.
In my sons’ homes, I have difficulty finding photos or pictures of the “other side.” Even my brother did not have a picture on display of his own parents until I pointed it out decades ago. He does now.
The unique mother looks at her newborn, perhaps wrinkled, head mishapened, and she sees only beauty. Another woman’s jewels on her fingers are the jewels for the unique Mother. An Irish proverb says “A man loves his sweetheart the most, his wife the best, but his mother the longest.” There may not be a syllable of truth in this, but for the Mother, she will love her children always, no matter what. May it be a blessing that never dies.