Last Day of April in the Garden

 I am tired this evening. After working all weekend, I decided to get outside today and do some gardening.

 I worked in my herb garden, which I rather ignored last year. It has been invaded by a prickly, decisively aggressive weed:

This stuff comes up everywhere and I think that every single place a piece of the root falls, it grows a new plant. I have no idea what it is, but I am decisively not it's friend, and it makes me feel prickly. 

After eradicating as much of it as I could from 4 of the raised beds, I drew up my plan, and sowed some seed. A little chives (common and garlic), sweet basil, sage, and rosemary. I already have thyme and hyssop growing. I've had success in the past with just throwing seeds out, so I'll give it a go this year. 

 I already have onions growing, both white onions and sweet vidalia onions. Can't you almost smell them cooking in butter with a pile of sliced mushrooms and peppers. Mmmmm...

I enjoyed having the cows keep me company, on their side of the fence. All of them, even Bonnie, the white-faced escapee who on one such escapade left her hoof prints in the onion patch. 

After the herb garden, I decided to mow yard.
Just a little bit of yard.
Well, 2 1/2 hours later and about 8 miles on the pedometer logged, I wasn't sure I could go anymore. Our riding mower is out of commission, so everything is done by a push mower.

I am tired, but a good tired.
Sleep will be most welcome tonight.

Love,
Dianne

Dance Mom...You're Fired!

Last Saturday, I took Heather and her friend Hannah to Groove, a dance competition in Pittsbugh. They were there to compete with their dance company, Studio 7. Our day started at 4:00. Yes, that would be in the morning.

On arrival at Fox Chapel Area High School, I was transformed into "Dance Mom", which is similar to a "Soccer Mom", but with makeup and curling iron wisdom. ( It soon became obvious that both of these skills were lacking in my bag of tricks.) As we carried in our two duffel bags with costumes, makeup and hair things, we were passed by other mothers wheeling in garment racks with neatly organized rows of sequins, tulle, spandex, and feather adorned costumes.

That's right, garment racks. I bagan to wonder if I was on a reality show about Dance Moms. I glanced around nervously for the TV crew.

If this was a reality show, I would be portrayed as the scattered, a little unorganized, novice mother who was only at her second ever competition. I would be the mother trying to help her girls put on the required   flashy, bold, not-your-normal-teenage makeup, and not really succeeding.

In fact, I put on Heather's eyeliner, something I never use, and burst out laughing hysterically, at her.
Not with her, mind you, but at her. This was not a special mother-daughter bonding moment. Quite the opposite actually, as I could hear the bonds between us snapping like old rubber bands as I laughed. I don't know why I laughed like that, except she looked a little like Cleopatra, I was stressed out at wanting to do this right, and I was going on about 6 hours of sleep since Thursday morning. I think it was a way of stress relief for me, but it did nothing to help the stress level of my daughter.

I began to apologize profusely as I began swiping at the eyeliner, hoping to rub it off. Why did they have to make it so waterproof?! Somehow, Heather managed to fix my eyeliner fiasco, and I noticed Hannah didn't ask me to help with hers. Go figure.

Then, as they are trying to help each other with makeup, I am doing their hair with the required "spiderweb" type pattern that requires a jillion tiny rubber bands. This goes back so far, where you then pull the remainder up into a ponytail which then gets curled into saucy ringlets.

Or so they say.

In a room packed with glittered and sequined girls, along with their mothers, the costume racks, duffel bags, purses, and coolers, the outlets were at a premium and we couldn't get to one. I resorted to twisting and pinning their hair unto an odd version of an up-do. A jillion bobby pins were used and somehow their hair held up all day.

Hair...check.
Makeup...check.
Costumes...check.

Lights,
Camara,
Action!

That's Heather, in the middle on the right. Smiling, once again.
Disco Inferno!

Heather, in the middle of the front row, still smiling...

All the Studio 7 young ladies who went to competition.
Classy Ladies!

The day was long, the girls worked hard and danced well. All this, in spite of a mother who didn't know what she was doing! We smiled, and we even laughed together, instead of at each other. I think Heather forgave me and my "not-good" mother moment. Next year, I think we'll practice ahead of time. 

I am proud of you Heather! You are a beautiful dancer, inside and out, and I love you.

Love,
Dance Mom

If I was Going on a Journey...

I am thinking about yesterday's blog and the old steamer trunk. If I was traveling across the ocean to a new home, and was limited in what belongings I took, what would I pack? (Besides the obvious clothing and necessities of daily living; this is just for the "other" possessions.)

1.) My Bible, the one that is written in, underlined, and dog-eared .
2.) My set of Trixie Belden books, my favorite childhood-into-teenage-years books.
3.) Photographs and my scrapbooks
4.) Artwork that my kids have done
5.) My journals, starting way back when I was 12.
6.) A camera
7.) Love letters from Leo (yes they exist, and no, don't look for them.)
8.) Currier & Ives dishes
9.) My wedding dress
10.) My laptop (I didn't say this was 100 years ago!)
11.) Flower bulbs and seeds from my garden (to bring a little bit of home with me)
12.) Home videos

I am sure if I thought about longer, I could add more to my list; this is just off the top of my head.

In today's society, everything is so readily available and replaced so easily that packing for a trip almost seems pointless. You can always buy what you need once you have reached their destination. It's those things that can't be easily replaced that I'd want to pack.

1.) Memories
2.) Feelings
3.) Things that have meaning attached to them
4.) Things that tell my story
5.) Those items that make remembering possible

What would you pack?

Love,
Dianne

Not Just an Old Trunk

I found this trunk at a roadside flea market. Driving by, I saw it, had to turn around and go back to investigate further. I love vintage finds and this rates up there as one of my favorites. I wish it could talk. I am sure there is a story inside waiting to be discovered.

There are initials on the side: I.H.H.
Are these the owner's? The manufacturer?
Maybe this trunk belonged to Ivy Helena Hampton, or Ivan Horatio Hanson.
Where did it come from?
Did it travel in the bottom of an ship, bound for Ellis Island and the hopes and dreams that awaited the owner there? Did it get tossed onto the docks carelessly by a dock hand, heedlessly unaware of the precious cargo it may have contained?

What was locked inside, folded and layered carefully? Maybe it was a lifetime of belongings that had to be condensed to fit inside one steamer trunk. A wedding gown, a baby's shoe, an heirloom pocket watch that no longer kept time, a favorite book with ragged edges that had already been read many times, or faded daguerreotypes that captured a moment in time, a frozen expression that the owner did not want to forget. 

Maybe the trunk held the makings of a future and a hope of survival in a new country. Tools to begin again. Or to start over.

Details. I love the details, the workmanship that went into the making of this trunk. I like the feeling that someone cared. Do I put half as much attention to detail in whatever I am doing? Or do I just want to get the job done? 

 

I like to open the lid and smell the dusty, musty scent of history. The owner of this trunk had a life. They breathed, they laughed, they cried, they took care of their family, they worked, they may have married and had children. I don't know who they were, but I have a little sense of them in what they have left behind. 

It makes me wonder, what will I leave behind? Will I be a mystery to someone, will they wonder who I was, how I lived, what I lived for? 

I think that's one of the reasons I like this trunk so much. It makes me ponder my own life and what I am doing with it. It makes me want to tell my story, to be an inspiration to others. Am I just going to keep the lid shut or am I going to dare to open it?

Love,

Dianne

No cape, no boots

I am off for an adventure of sorts.
Minus the cape,
and the Wonder Woman boots.

I am meeting someone to shadow her at her job. Is it something for me? I don't know yet.
I don't really like change.
I don't really like the unknown,
but I do like to imagine and dream.
I like to make life better.
I like to make my family a priority.
And who knows, maybe this is a door opening to something new that will be beyond what I am imagining and dreaming.

So, here I go, out the door, to check out something new, a little scary, a little exciting, a little Wonder Woman-ish.

Minus the cape and boots of course.

Love,
Dianne

Sometimes the Payoff is Sweet

 All projects take time and commitment. Sometimes, that comes easy. Other times, not so much.
Take Amy's latest endeavor for instance. She is working on a mural for the church nursery; Noah's Ark to be exact. She was excited about it at first, but then reality hit.

This painting is BIG, and detailed, and intimidating.
She soon began to doubt her ability.
I love to watch her work. I think she makes it look easy, but she would disagree. She is struggling to get it done.

But she will.
Because she is talented.
              she has perseverance,
              she is Amy.

I love her hands.

Sometimes we just don't feel like being creative, especially with a deadline of sorts. 

I prefer to call it "meeting a goal" instead of a "deadline" because deadline is just about the most uninspired word that there is. 

And here is my inspiration for Amy: 

Yep, I painted those teeth myself.
And yet she doesn't ask for my expertise...
I really don't get it. 
Here was my "masterpiece" for the day:  A red velvet cupcake cake for Heather. It took a little time and commitment , but the payoff in the end was worth it. Something tells me that Amy's payoff in the end will be even sweeter. 

Love,

Dianne

Snow and Pimento Loaf

A snow day in April is not unheard of in our part of the world, but it is unusual. Especially this winter, when we barely had any snow all winter. My children went to school this morning, but were home by 11:30.

Ah, now I can get them to clean their bedrooms...

...but first things first...lunch. 

Amy and I headed to Springs Store for essentials.

 Like doughnuts. 

And sandwich fixin's. 

 

Pepper and pimento loaf brings back memories of my mom working at Kolb's Store in Accident, MD. She would run the register and since Mr. Kolb was our bus driver, he would just take me and my sisters right to the store when he parked the bus at the end of the route. Sometimes, bologna and cheese sandwiches would be waiting for us, and occasionally pepper and pimento loaf. I had to get some today just so my kids could try it.

When I taste it, I almost feel like I am in that dusty little country store with creaky wooden floors, sunshine slanting through the front windows making the dust motes appear as I wander the three narrow, short aisles looking at the odd assortment of this and that, stationary and cards, glass knick-knacks, crocheted towel holders, candy, 10 cent rings, aspirin, brushes and combs. I could almost be sitting out on the front steps watching traffic go by with a sandwich and a can of pop in my hand.

Sigh. They just don't make stores like that anymore.

Here they are, enjoying their shortened day of school:

Making their sandwiches; Amy was brave and tried the colorful bologna.

I didn't know the Queen was here for lunch

Ryan didn't try the pimento loaf either. He doesn't know what he's missing....

They cleaned their bedrooms...kind of...and helped me straighten up the rest. I like shortened days of school too. Muwahahaha...

Love,
Dianne

Don't Look Now, but Time is Passing

I like quiet evenings at home, with the sound of rain on the roof. (Not snow yet!) Leo is in bed sleeping. Ryan is beside him reading a Magic Treehouse book, Amy is skyping a friend, Heather is on Facebook, Aaron is talking to his girlfriend, and Adrienne is doing homework. Everyone is doing their own thing, but we are all here, together. I like that.

Life is so different than what it was, even just a few short years ago. My family is growing up. Most of me is enjoying the way our relationships are changing and growing, but there is always going to be a part of me that misses when they were all little. Life seemed simpler and didn't seem to go so fast; it wasn't so technology driven, it seemed uncomplicated.

It seemed simpler, but really, was it? In some ways, yes. In other ways, no. They weren't as independent then and needed more from you, more of you, so when everyone needed something, it got crazy. When no one had their driver's licenses, and rides were needed, it could get hectic. (Of course, they didn't have as many places to go back then either, so that was simpler.) I couldn't keep up with laundry, cooking, and maintaining a perfectly cleaned house with 5 energetic, active, messy farm kids.

I remember people telling me to "enjoy these times, it will go by too quickly." I remember thinking, "I just want to survive to the end of the day." I did think that somehow they would all be little forever, and honestly, I wasn't convinced that I was cut out for the job. Sometimes I would just get completely overwhelmed with the enormity of being a mom and the little stresses of daily life would feel huge to me. I was dealing with depression too, I just didn't call it that and I certainly wasn't going to admit my struggles with anyone. They all had it together, I didn't.

Looking back, I wish I had believed the people who told me that the years would go by quickly. Maybe I would have focused more on spending time with my children instead of stressing over how the house looked, or being the "perfect" mom. The years did go by fast, and they are growing up.

BUT...I can enjoy them today, and tomorrow, and the next day. I can't go back and relive those years, and even though I have regrets, I don't have to hang on to them. I can cherish the memories and learn from my mistakes. I will never have a perfectly clean house, and I will most likely never catch up on the laundry, and I am sure I will still get grouchy about it, but I am trying to be okay about it. I am not always successful, but I am trying to be more balanced about it.

I like quiet evenings at home, with my family. I enjoyed watching part of a sappy Hallmark movie with Amy, and going somewhere with my children for lunch. I am glad I took the time, because that time is something I can't get back.

I think I'll go hug everyone good night. I may even tuck them in.

Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bedbugs bite,
(Now that's something you really want to tell a child to make them sleep well!)
Dianne

Happy Sweet 13 Heather!

Thirteen years ago, Heather Anne blessed our family with her big brown eyes, her sweet rosebud lips, and a soft downy head of brown hair. I won't go into labor and birth details, other than to say she was born in the middle of the night (my favorite time) and this was the only birth, out of five children, that Leo passed out at.

Yep, he was on the floor. This may be a Maust thing.
Maybe he was stunned with the sweetness and beauty of this new baby girl.
Nah, it was the needle and the IV.
But I didn't mind and neither did Heather.

She was a happy baby, for the most part, but every once in a while I thought of the Mother Goose rhyme about the little girl who "when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid." Heather had a temper! Quick to blow up, but quicker to forgive.

Heather liked being cuddled and held...a lot. Some days she could be a little high maintenance and I learned to get jobs done around house with her on my hip. It is funny, but out of all my children, Heather ended up being my most independent toddler and preschooler. I think Erikson was onto something with his "trust vs. mistrust" and his stages of development.

She loved playing dress-up and dancing, jumping on the trampoline, playing with Barbies, and playing "house" in the attic. She never liked doing dishes, cleaning her room, and eating beans.

She makes awesome brownies and I believe she could be the next Rachel Ray. She learns choreography and dance like nobody's business and I love watching her "bust a move."

Heather was beautiful then and she still is today. I love watching her blossom into a young woman, passionate about life and God, loving and caring towards others, and with a spice that sometimes gets her in trouble. She is my prayer warrior and has always been my girl who prays for people.

Heather-girl, I love you. You bring me joy. XOXO



Love,
Dianne aka Mom

Prep time...3,2,1...blast-off

Being prepared is a good thing. Really it is. You wouldn't know it by my example though.

First, I know my car can go at least 400 miles on a tank of gas, but probably not much more. Last night, driving to work, I was so caught up in the book I was listening too, that I forgot I needed gas. Meyersdale would have been a good place to stop. I discovered my gas light was on in Davidsville, only about 40-ish some miles later. The odometer reading was 416 miles. Should I take a chance or stop somewhere?

I stopped and put three gallons in because I really didn't want to have to call work, a few short miles away, and say I ran out of gas.

I was not prepared.

Then, this morning, I stopped at Michaels (best store ever, by the way) and was picking up paint for Amy, and cupcake supplies for Heather's birthday. I am in line at the register when I realize I have no money, no checkbook. I had to ask the lady if I could set my things at the register while I ran to my car for a credit card I hoped was there.

I was not prepared.

Tomorrow, Heather has a dance competition in Pittsburgh. We need to leave here around 0430. In the morning. Yuck. I need to be prepared...tonight. I need to run to the bank for some cash, I want to sweep my car out, I need to hem up Heather's jazz pants, I need to fill my car completely up with gas, I need to print out directions and also program the GPS, I need to get groceries (snacks and drinks) for while we are there...

You get the idea. Preparation is important. TIme consuming and boring, but necessary.
It's funny really, for a person who likes organization, I sure have a hard time getting it together somedays.

Night shift will do that to you. And that hammock is begging to be hung up and piled with pillows and a blanket...

But...Noah built the ark before it ever rained...he was prepared.

So I am off, coffee in one hand, to-do list in the other.
I am preparing to be prepared.

Love,
Dianne

I was a Grey Squirrel

I was thinking about camp experiences this morning. Not that I have a lot of experience at summer camp, but I do have the 4th Grade Camp Hickory experience.

I was 8 years old; it was the summer of 1978. I was a Grey Squirrel. I am glad I wasn't a Woodchuck. This is how I remember it.

All the elementary schools in the Northern Garrett County area had connections with Camp Hickory, and after your 4th grade year, you got to spend an entire week there in the summer with all the other 4th graders. Even though the campground was only about 3 miles from my house, it felt like 100 miles. I was ready for adventure, and I hoped, mystery.

Kids piled out of cars with their suitcases, duffel bags, and pillows. I thought I was ready for this, but there were so many kids I didn't know. The adventurer in me wanted to hide. Where were my friends? I searched the crowd of excited, giggling, talking kids, and then I saw a pair of familiar braids. Jencene was here and I would be okay.

We were split up into cabins and given cabin names. I was a Grey Squirrel and all those in my cabin wore a necklace consisting of round piece of wood with the name on it. (I kept that necklace in a box with my other treasures for a long time after camp.) Following our counselor to our cabin, we learned how to make our bunks, complete with hospital corners. Looking back, sleeping bags would've been easier, but we brought sheets and had to fix our bed everyday. Of course, learning the skill, nay, the art, of hospital corners, may have been the whole point.

In the main hall at Camp Hickory, the groups would meet for all the meals, and we would have lessons on nature, like recognizing footprints and tracking, conservation, types of leaves, etc. Lining the walls and shelves around the perimeter of the room were deer heads, squirrels, foxes, a weasel, a beaver, snakeskin, and other taxidermy delights. They watched you eat. Creepy.

The afternoons were spent trying our hand at archery, group games, and swimming. At Camp Hickory, I learned to not be so afraid of the water and mastered the Dead Man's Float. With names like that, is it any wonder I was afraid? I remember a girl named Candy, with her lime green swimsuit with a hole cut out right where her belly button was. I thought she was cool.

We were allowed to bring money for snacks to camp. This was a big deal for me because just having money for a snack, just for me, was not something that happened very often at my house.  I bought a new kind of candy bar, a Whatchamacallit, a peanut-flavored crisp covered in milk chocolate. This became my new favorite kind of candy bar and to this day, when I see them, I think about Camp Hickory.

Summer Camp. What a memory. There wasn't really any grand adventure, and definitely no mystery, but it was fun. Pure and simple fun. New friendships were forged, old friendships strengthened, and I could track a black bear if I wanted to. I learned that archery is great fun. I may not have been the best shot, but I liked feeling like Robin Hood.

Summer Camp. Let's do it again.

Love,
Grey Squirrel

Inspired Creativity

I am not feeling particularly creative today. Maybe it is a side effect of working a dayshift yesterday, maybe it is a lingering Monday feeling, maybe it is just me today.

Whatever the reason, it makes me feel out of sorts. I feel like a puppy looking for something to play with, and all that is there is one lonely piece of string. Now, it I was a cat, maybe that would be just the thing, but I'm not feeling feline today.

Here is my sewing corner. I usually feel creative here and I have surrounded myself with things that make me feel like creating. Things that inspire me.

Like...
     photos of me and Leo,

     photos of the kids,
     notes they have written,
     art they have done,

     lists of movie soundtracks that I like,
     quotes,
     keys that don't have a home,
     maps (of Narnia and Middle Earth),

     bags from other countries (Japan and Guatemala),
     a jar of buttons,
     a fairy or two,
     and other misc items that have meaning.

 I almost always have music on when I am feeling creative. Somehow movie soundtracks inspire me the most. I think it's because they are telling a story and I feel the songwriter's creativity. Some of my favorites are from the Narnia movies, The Lord of The Rings trilogy, Zorro, Shall We Dance, King Arthur, and Robin Hood. There are more, and it depends on what kind of mood I am in, or what I am working on. It also depends on the time of day it is.

It is 3:30 now. Where is that creative spark?

Obviously hiding. In that pile of dirty laundry. Or is it in the garbage that needs taken out? I know, it's in the homework that the kids brought home. Or is it?

Maybe it's just hanging out in the corners of my mind until tomorrow.
And that's okay.
Because creativity is best when it just happens, without being forced, and without too much thought.
At least, that's what the analytical, noncreative side of me says.

Meow.

Love,
Dianne

   
   
   

I got the Monday Blues...ooohoooh....oh yeah...

Monday.
Today feels like a typical Monday, start of the work week, yucky kind of a day.

1.) Taxes are due tomorrow. I thought ours was done and ready to go; then I checked my email and our tax preparer found something important she didn't add, and had to do them over. She just called me a few minutes ago and now they are done.

2.) My body hurts today from being at camp over the weekend and joining in on the games. I feel every bit of 41 today.

3.) Heather is home from school, sick with a nasty cold/headache/sore throat. No fun.

4.) I, along with Amy and Ryan have dentist appointments at three o'clock today. No fun. I can't even pick a prize from the treasure box.

5.) The house looks like I was gone all weekend.

6.) The dirty laundry has taken over the house.


Monday.
Today is a typical Monday. But....

1.) The taxes are done on time. And we get a refund.
2.) My body may hurt, but it hurts because I had fun playing games. I am thankful that I was able to run!
3.) Heather will feel better again.
4.) I still have all my teeth. And our dentist is really nice.
5.) I still had a house to come home too, messy or not.
6.) It is a breezy day and I can hang the laundry on the line.

Monday.
There is no guarantee that Tuesday or Wednesday will be any better.
The choice in attitude is mine, even when circumstances are not.

And believe me, some days I need to remind myself over and over and over.
Looking at flowers helps too. These were what was blooming yesterday when I came home.

I love Spring, and maybe, just maybe, even Mondays.

Love,
Dianne

Camp Nurse Part 2 "Capture the Pookie"

Yesterday, our evening at Camp ended with a campfire, complete with S'mores, hot chocolate, and my brother-in-law getting his soul on with some singing. There is nothing like a good campfire song or two! I don't know that I normally think about people getting hurt while making S'mores, but last night I did. Think about it...sharp pointy sticks, hot coals, energetic kids...it could get ugly. But it didn't. "Whew"says the Camp Nurse.

This morning was Capture The Flag time, or as they call it here "Capture the Pookie". The game is the same as it's always been and I couldn't wait to play. This was my favorite game when I was in middle school and high school, but I haven't really had an opportunity to play it since then. When I play this game, I feel like a spy, or maybe a pirate. I love the strategy, the teamwork, and the all-out fun that everyone seems to have. This gets my high score for best camp game ever. Having no injuries gets a high score too!

In Jail, waiting to be rescued; I spent a lot of time here. Apparently I run much slower than 3rd-5th grade girls. 

A counselor's job is never done...Grantley did a great job!

This is me, running free, letting the inner kid out to play. 

Way to go Christopher! He captured the Pookie first. 

And just what is a Pookie? 
This is a Pookie: 


He was very brave in spite of a minor injury. 

                                After a visit to the nurse though, he was good as new. 

What did I learn this weekend? 

1. The most important item in a camp nurse's inventory is bandaids.

2. The second most important item is energy, along with a smile.

3. Coffee helps too.

4. Sometimes being a nurse means that you fix sad or lonely feelings, not just cuts and scrapes.

5. Sometimes hugs work the same as bandaids.

6. I can do all things with the help of God who gives me courage.

I'm sure there's more, but right now, this nurse need a nap. 

Signing off as Camp Nurse at Cove Valley Christian Camp,

With Love and Bandaids,

Dianne