Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Seeing Christmas

Image credit
Today I took my 7 year old son Christmas shopping for his sister.
During our stroll through one of the store aisles, a very tall, jolly man with an impressive smile, belly and white beard to match, happened by wearing a red Santa hat. Just another customer to me (albeit a very festive one), my son saw something else. When he first passed us, I noticed my son's eyes widen as he tried so hard to look ahead and not to stare.
'How cute!' I thought. 'He thought that was Santa.'
We ran into 'Santa' again a couple of aisles later where he clearly noticed he had been 'discovered'. He caught my son's eye and knelt down next to him and said (in an impressively deep voice),
'Don't let anyone know you saw me here, ok?'
My son nodded enthusiastically.
'I'm out checking on kids before the big day.'
My son said, 'I was wondering why you were wandering around here in your street clothes.'
Santa chuckled softly and asked, 'are you on the good list?'
My son replied with, 'yes, sir. So far!'
He wished us both a Merry Christmas & headed off to finish up his shopping (and subsequent 'behavior checking').

Heart. Full.
Thank you to this kind soul who took a few seconds to make a little boy's day.
And mine.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

A Prayer for Gizmo

Our neighbors lost their little puppy the other night to an unfortunate accident. When I went upstairs to check on the kids after they had gone to bed that night, I found this note my daughter had written to Kathleen (the puppy's owner).
How sweet. My heart is full...

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Walk a Little Slower, Daddy


Footprints
"Walk a little slower, Daddy,"
said a child so small.
"I'm following in your footsteps
and I don't want to fall.

Sometimes your steps are very fast,
Sometimes they're hard to see;
So walk a little slower, Daddy,
For you are leading me.

Someday when I'm all grown up,
You're what I want to be;
Then I will have a little child
Who'll want to follow me.

And I would want to lead just right,
And know that I was true;
So, walk a little slower, Daddy,
For I must follow you."

~ Author Unknown


Happy Father's Day!

Sunday, November 21, 2010

A Show

For the past two days we gathered as we do every year for an annual Holiday House in a small town in upstate New York to share a year's worth of handpainting, jewelry, sewing, knitting, and more...
This year my sister hosted the event in her 1809 farmhouse.
My mother and sister paint, glitterify, sew, repurpose and beautify.  My aunt knits and knits and knits.  My brother's mom-in-law paints and paints and I repurpose whatever I can find into wearable art. 
Here's a peek inside~come see how I spent my weekend...
Perhaps next year, you will join us?


Vintage Buttons

Fun Pins & Brooches

Cocktail Rings...repurposed vintage bachelor buttons & earrings

And then there was the rest of the show....

My mother and my sister painted and sewed for months...have a look at their results:


Vintage Stools in their Party Dresses:


Room Divider



 Ornaments galore...









How 'bout that glitter tree my sister made?  She hand glittered the entire thing & painted the pot~
She generously donated it to my dining room~YAY!





Handpainted Chargers & some friendly nutcrackers...


Mom and my sister spent countless hours painting and glittering to create these pieces for the show:


Handpainted Ornaments by artist Patricia Belodoff


Mom's Pretty Tote with handpainted straps


Back to my loot...some  jewels and Flash Cards...

Paper crowns & vintage buttons in their 2nd life as thumbtacks in cork frames


Necklaces I displayed in an antique typesetter's drawer


Thursday, September 30, 2010

My Little Philanthropist

My daughter Sydney (age 8) wants to start a little volunteer organization to support local agencies. This is a bookmark she made to support the National Centers for Missing & Exploited Children.   YAY SYDNEY!  Always so proud....


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The First Day is Here...

Nothing to Worry About
~Erma Bombeck

Confessions of a child entering school for the first time - who according to adults "has nothing to worry about."

My name is James and I don't know anything.

I have new underwear, a new sweater, a loose tooth and I didn't sleep last night. I am worried.

What if the school bus jerks after I get on and I lose my balance and my pants rip and everyone laughs?

What if I have to go to the bathroom before we get to school?

What if a bell rings and everyone goes into a door and a man yells, "Where do you belong?" and I don't know?

What if my shoestring comes untied and someone says, "Your shoestring is untied. We'll all watch while you tie it"?

What if the trays in the cafeteria are too tall for me to reach?

What if the thermos lid on my soup is on too tight and when I try to open it, it breaks?

What if my loose tooth wants to come out when we're supposed to have our heads down and be quiet?

What if the teacher tells the class to go to the bathroom and I can't go?

What if I get hot and want to take my sweater off and someone steals it?

What if I splash water on my name tag and my name disappears and no one will know who I am?

What if they send us out to play and all the swings are taken? What do I do?

What if the wind blows all the important papers out of my hands that I'm supposed to take home?

What if they mispronounce my last name and everyone laughs?

What if my teacher doesn't make her D's like Mom taught me?

What if I spend the whole day without a friend?

What if the teacher gives a seat to everyone and I'm left over?

What if the windows in the bus steam over and I won't be able to tell when I get to my stop?

I'm just a little kid but maybe I'm smarter than I think I am. At least I know better than to tell a six-year-old kid with a loose tooth who has never been out of the yard by himself before that he has "nothing to worry about."

 

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Happy Father's Day

When God Created Fathers...


When the good Lord was creating Fathers he started with a tall frame.



And a female angel nearby said, "What kind of Father is that? If you're going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won't be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping."

And God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?"

And when God made a Father's hands, they were large and sinewy.

And the angel shook her head sadly and said, "Do you know what you're doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats."

And God smiled and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day...yet small enough to cup a child's face in his hands."



And then God moulded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.

And the angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all right," she clucked. "Do you realize you just made a Father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?"

And God smiled and said, "A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle, and hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus."



God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had every seen when the angel could contain herself no longer.

"That's not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?"

And God smiled and said, "They'll work. You'll see. They'll support a small child who wants to ride a horse to Banbury Cross, or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill."



God worked throughout the night, giving the Father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that saw everything, but remained calm and tolerant.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, he added tears.

Then he turned to the angel and said, "Now, are you satisfied that he can love as much as a Mother?"
The angel said nothing more.

~Erma Bombeck






Saturday, May 8, 2010

A Mother's Love

We all know that being a Mom is the hardest, most rewarding job on the face of this Earth.

"You don't love me!"

How many times have your kids laid that one on you?  And how many times have you, as a parent, resisted the urge to tell them how much?  Someday, when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother,  I'll tell them...

I loved you enough to bug you about where you were going, with whom and what time you would get home.


I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money, which we could afford, and you couldn't.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your hand picked friend was a creep.


I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to say, "Yes, you can go to Disney World on Mother's Day."

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust, and tears in my eyes.

I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or your bad manners.


I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.

I loved you enough to ignore "what every other mother" did or said.


I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt, and fail.


I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at 6, 10, or 16.

I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned, but forgave you for it...after discovering I was right.


I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your demands...so that you learned to stand alone.

I loved you enough to accept you for what you are, and not what I wanted you to be.

But most of all, I loved you enough to say no when you hated me for it. That was the hardest part of all.


Erma Bombeck

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Homage to Mothers



This is a truly BEAUTIFUL piece. Please read this at a slow pace, digesting every word and in leisure...do not hurry....this is a treasure...

The young mother set her foot on the path of life.
'Is this the long way?' she asked. And the guide said:
'Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach
the end of it . But the end will be better than the beginning.'

But the young mother was happy, and she would not
believe that anything could be better than these years. So she
played with her children, and gathered flowers for
them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and
the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried,
'Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.'

Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was
dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother
drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said,
'Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.'

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and
the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children,' A little patience and we are there.'

So the children climbed, and when they reached the top
they said, 'Mother, we would not have done it without you.'

And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up
at the stars and said, 'This is a better day than the last, for my
children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness.

Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today, I've given them strength.'

And the next day came strange clouds which darkened
the earth, clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped
and stumbled, and the mother said: 'Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.

'And the children looked and saw above the clouds
an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the
darkness'.  And that night the Mother said,

'This is the best day of all, for
I have shown my children God.'

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and
the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.

But her children were tall and strong, and walked with
courage. And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill,
and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And
mother said, 'I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end
is better than the beginning, for my children can
walk alone, and their children after them.'

And the children said, 'You will always walk with us,
Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.'

And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates
closed after her. And they said: 'We cannot see her
but she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She
is a living presence.......'

Your Mother is always with you.... She's the whisper
of the leaves as you walk down the street; she's the smell of bleach
in your freshly laundered socks; she's the cool hand
on your brow when you're not well. Your Mother lives
inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop.

She's the place you came from, your first home; and
she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love
and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, not space... not even death...
If you still have her near, cherish and adore her.
If she has passed, then never forget her, not even for a second.
For when you have passed, she will be the first waiting for you!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

What I Want for Mother's Day

Must be that time of year. Easter, with its floppy-eared bunnies and blooming lilies, is in the rearview mirror, and summer is tapping at the window.
Store ads tout purses, perfumes and pendants of perfectly entwined platinum hearts.

Mother's Day is fast approaching, if you haven't noticed, and with it, the attendant demands for your wallet. Breakfast foods -- toast waiting to be burned and eggs ready for scrambling -- feature prominently in grocery circulars, and soon restaurants will report an uptick in reservations for Sunday brunch. Well, la de da.

Why would I mock a day set aside to celebrate my accomplishments?
Because, honey, a single, solitary day ain't enough payback.

Yes, time in the trenches has made me a crotchety mama. Skeptical, picky and opinionated, too. So I'm grabbing this space to tell the children what, in my heart of hearts,
I consider true reward for the maddening, humbling experience called parenting.

For Mother's Day, what I really want, what I "deserve" after all those sleepless nights and countless teachers' meetings, after all those Saturday morning baseball games and after-school fundraisers, after all those middle-of-the-night emergency room visits and boo-boos cured with kisses, after all those arguments over cars and curfew,
all those pep talks and prescient warnings, is simple: Your life well-lived.



And this, of course, doesn't happen on just the second Sunday in May. It happens on the third Tuesday in February and on the last Friday in June and in the middle of a long November week, before breakfast and after dinner and all the hours in between. The Mother's Day gift I've earned is a votive candle that flickers bright and steady,
impervious to the buffeting winds of time and temptation.



I want you to be honest and good, conscientious and compassionate. Hardworking would be a plus, and while we're at it, let me throw in other essentials you should have:
a love of God, an appreciation for family and a generosity of spirit.



That's a solid start, but I've earned so much more. So in good times, I want to hear you count your blessings and watch you share your bounty. When it's time for your celebratory two-step, I expect a front-row seat at the party.
(No limelight for me, though. We mothers pull strings surreptitiously.)

During difficult times, of which I know there will be plenty, I hope you display your mettle and your grace, a resiliency learned at my side the hard way.
I expect nothing less than quiet strength and dry humor.



So come Mother's Day, forget the flowers. Drain the mimosas. And, for Pete's sake, don't bother with a schmaltzy card that you rushed to buy on your way over.

Live as I raised you. In this way, you honor me every day.

Written by Ana Veciana-Suarez, family columnist for The Miami Herald

Saturday, November 14, 2009

New Girl on the Block

My friend has just started her own photography business. She is so talented- you cant help but smile just looking at her images! Go have a peek at her pictures on facebook under 'Jennifer Wolsey Photography'.
We girls have to stick together! xoxo

Thursday, December 4, 2008

No Bake Cookies to Make with the Kids

Peanut Creams
1960's recipe
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar
1 cup chocolate chips
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk
1 cup peanut butter
mix well drop round balls on wax paper
let set