The Purple Cockroach Story

Violet will be a good color for hair at just about the same time that brunette becomes a good color for flowers. ~Fran Lebowitz

Somewhere hiding around my house is a purple cockroach.

You think I am kidding, don't you? I so wish I was.

This is one of those stories that I was told, by the perpetrator, would be funny ten years from now, but there was some question earlier that she would live long enough to see that day.  

Yes, the perpetrator was my very own Princess.

My story begins with me preparing for bedtime in my bathroom and hearing a scrubbing noise on the wall adjacent to my daughter's bathroom. I walked around to knock on her bathroom door to ask what she was doing: "Cleaning."

Now I knew something was up because I have to go from reminding to begging to threatening her liberty for 20 years before she will clean her bathroom, and it is never done at night. However, I was having some back pain, so not too in the mood to investigate, and I remembered that she had not done it on Saturday as she is supposed to do.

Yeah, I tend to be hopelessly idealistic at times, especially when I am not up to dealing with reality.

Back in my bathroom resuming the nightly routine, I again hear the scrubbing, only worse. I walk back around and again knock.

"What are you doing? It sounds like you are trying to scratch through the wall?"

"I'm not." (I did notice the lack of volunteering more information.)

"Uh-huh. Open the door now!"

On the wall behind the door is a purple spot about two inches in diameter. I am immediately upset.

Now, to understand what is going on in my mind, you have to remember that because we had the windows replaced last summer that every single room in my house with an exterior wall needed to be touched up at the very least to the entire room painted and I have only one room done and another partially done, because life threw us some curves so progress has been slow. Besides the hallway, my daughter's bathroom—the guest bathroom, actually—is the only room (quite literally, the ONLY room) in my house that does not have a window (other than one of the basement rooms, which has the wallpaper peeling off and needs painted as well).

Also, there is a sentimental value to my guest bathroom. Before the Princess was born, my mother came for a visit and this was the room I finished especially for that occasion with a hand stenciled border of magnolias that I liked but also knew that my mother would like. Although my mother acted like it was nothing to her when she saw it (and that was typical of our relationship), I still remember the efforts I made fondly.

All this went through my mind in just a quick moment.... Then came the next moment.

Why was there a purple spot on the wall?
 
I turned to look around and found all the cans of colored hair spray we gave our daughter for Christmas. My daughter quickly explained that she was going to tell me once she cleaned it up.

Okay, but.... Why was there a purple spot on the wall?

Apparently, she saw a cockroach too high for her to kill herself, so instead of calling her father, who was actually home that night, or me, she decided to kill it with hairspray—colored hair spray. She said it was kind of a joke and that hair spray would come off with water...but then it did not.

I just looked at her thinking how, in just a little more than a month, this girl will be fifteen years old...not under ten, when I would have expected this kind of naivety, but fifteen? Of course, I am beyond talking to her at this stage, because I am livid; I am yelling at her that the color of the hair spray is made to wash out when it is on hair as it is meant to be used and about how it must have escaped her when she took science classes that putting one chemical formula onto another can have unexpected results like adhesion or bleed through as dyes can do, all while grabbing cleaning supplies hoping that I will find something that will not damage the paint, yet remove the purple spot.

Yes, I did say all that in just one breath...and more too!

My husband had come up from his desk in the basement to see what I was raging about and used the calm approach to talk to the perpetrator while I finally made some progress with the purple spot. She came to apologize, a genuine apology. I looked at her sweet face with her heartbreaking, pleading eyes and said that I was very appreciative that she want to do the right thing, but I was far too angry to receive it at the moment. That is when my husband tried that same calm and gentle approach on me...and you would think the man should know better after the first two decades that we have been married.

"Have you never done something that you tried to hide and fix it before your parents found out?"

I honestly was too angry to think of anything right then because I was not living with my parents most of my teenage years, but I do know this one thing: I never graffitied walls!

Later, after the purple spot was eliminated and the paint on the wall did not seemed to be damaged by the third chemical formula I had to use to remove it, I accepted the Princess' apology...and I allowed her to retrieve all cans of the colored hair spray that I had thrown into the trash as I complained loudly to my husband that she never allows me to use them in her hair after begging for them, yet she will use them on things she should not, like to graffiti a wall!

The perpetrator has been pardoned and I am laughing about this now nine years, eleven months, and thirty days earlier than predicted. 

In a much calmer state, I began to think over the scene. The Princess did not just grab the first color but specifically looked for the purple one. A day or two before she wanted me to give her an idea or even just a word to challenge her in starting a new fictional story and I came up with something I thought would be fun and challenging off the top of my head: purple kitty.

I really have to be more careful of my suggestions with a child having such a creative mind, but who would have ever thought...well, other than her, that is?

After all was said and done, my Princess was giving me my goodnight kiss and it was then that it hit me....

Where was the purple cockroach?

She said it escaped down the vent.

My Lord, may the purple cockroach rest in peace...if not yet, then very soon.

I Should...Maybe I Should Not

Taking 'naps' sounds so childish...I prefer to call them 'horizontal life pauses.' ~Unknown

My aunt often tells me about how she used to nap when she was a young child. My grandmother would tell her it was time to nap, but my aunt would just keep doing whatever it was she was doing until she was so tired she could barely stand up. Then she would run to the couch and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was sound asleep.

As an adult, my aunt would nap on Sunday afternoons now and then, but for the most part she has always been the kind of woman who could out work most anyone and keep going until she practically falls flat in complete exhaustion. Of course, now she may seem to be making up time and would prefer to nap most days, but then she is approaching 80 years of age.

Oddly, I seem to be changing to become more like her in the last few years. I did not really notice it. The change was kind of subtle as the Princess and I started working with the horses, but in the last few days as I have been gardening, I realize that I am doing more physical labor now than I have for years and I just keep pushing, perhaps because I have not yet fallen flat. Yet, just a little break can make me keenly aware of how close I might be to that point though.

Yesterday evening it began to rain. This meant all my gardening plans for today would be postponed. It rained throughout the night and this morning too, so I awoke with resolve to switch gears, doing more work inside, even a full day of lessons. I knew I was overly tired the last few days, but I just kept on going until the rain began. Then I began to really realize how tired I have been and also how little patience I have for a child who is only putting a half effort into her chores and lessons today.

I should get more done today, but my fatigued body in response to the damp, cool air is pleading for me to wrap up in a warm comforter and lie down for a just a half an hour or so, with emphasis on the "or so."

I usually fight such rare urges as I am not one to nap much, but I think I will just give in to this one today. Ah, yes, I need to just run to the couch and catch a few winks....zzzz. (Did I make it?)

~ My Lord, thank you for times of rest. There is nothing so satisfying as getting some rest when I need it most. ~

Blue Note or Blue Screen Christmas?

I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become... but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress. ~May Sarton

The Blue Note Christmas 2005

I have an eighth note cookie cutter and every Christmas we always color them a pretty blue to remind us of Christmas 2005. Have a cup of rich, hot chocolate and a sit while I describe what I thought was the worse (and the best) Christmas of my life.

The Princess was just four and a half years old. She had been taking piano lessons for about six months and it was obvious from the beginning that she was destined to be a good pianist. Her tiny hands had been practicing on my Roland keyboard all that time, but we knew that to strengthen her fingers and develop her ear that she would need a real piano. I had seen an advertisement to sell off used pianos at a well known piano store in Atlanta, so we went to look hoping to find something worthwhile for under $2000 just a few hours before her very first recital—a casual coffee shop recital. We looked at the used ones and realized there was nothing worth having, but the salesman suggested a new one close to our price, just a bit more, but with a cast iron harp that would not warp.

At the recital she played simple songs with her right hand only, but she was just so relaxed yet poised—such a performer! Even one of the oldest students, who had taken piano lessons with Miss Trudy most of his life, expressed his surprise at how well that this petite four year old could play.

We returned to the store later as they had a very good sale going on because their Labor Day sale weeks before was terrible, since it was right around the time of the Katrina hurricane and the entire Southeast was impacted with trying to provide aid, bursting at the seams giving shelter, and dealing with gasoline shortages. The tone of the piano was nice, but after listening to the acoustics of a Steinway, costing as much as a house, nothing really compares. Still, it was a good piano and we purchased it.

Now my husband wanted this piano to be from Santa, so he devised this elaborate plan to have the piano suddenly appear on Christmas Day. First he would get a piano box from the store and place it in the living room covered up with a sheet. He would cut out a backside so we could simply slide it over the piano when it came. The Princess would see us put up this empty box and it would sit there for a few weeks until Christmas Day and then we would open it. This way the piano could be delivered at any time as long as I could keep her from seeing it being delivered.

So, we set a date for delivery with our salesman. Then we were asked to finalize everything with the sales manager, who listened to my husband's plan and suggested to have the piano delivered on Christmas Eve instead of two weeks before it, as that was a very common request. I had this strange feeling about that new plan. I thought our plan would be the best one as we would know the piano was there and we could have it tuned and ready by Christmas Day, but my husband decided that a Christmas Eve delivery would be better. So, the delivery date was reset.

My husband got a box later and we did as we planned. About a week or so later the salesman called and asked when would we like to set up the tuning. I told him that the piano had not been delivered yet, thinking that he may not have realized the date change. He called again about a week or so later and asked how we were enjoying the piano and again I told him the piano had not yet been delivered, but we were expecting it on Christmas Eve.

My husband's parents came to visit during Christmas so we were a bit distracted, but I began getting concerned when we did not get the phone call the day before giving us confirmation and an approximate time that the piano would be delivered. My husband said that they were probably very busy and would call that morning as they are supposed to do. Morning came, no call. By noon I began calling the delivery company, but after hours of trying to get a hold of someone, we were told all the deliveries had been made in the morning. There was no piano to be delivered to us.

This was the big present! The one we had planned so much around. My daughter had sat on a mall Santa's lap and told him she would leave a key for him so he could bring the piano through the front door—she has always been one to work things out like that, even then. Now those dreams shattered before me. That huge box in the living room was going to be empty on Christmas. I just went into my bedroom and cried and prayed and cried some more on my husband's shoulder. My husband had called the salesman, who was on his way to visit family out of state. The salesman told us that the computer records showed the piano had already been delivered and that is why he had called us, but he realized his mistake in not catching the error when I told him it had not been delivered, twice.

The salesman made some calls and after a few hours of trying to get past this terrible disappointment and stop weeping—this is what happens often when I rely on plans and have high expectations—we were told our piano would be delivered around 8:00 PM. I again went into my bedroom and thanked my Lord with more weeping yet fearing to hope.

Instead of going out to shop as we planned when the piano was to be delivered in the morning, I would have the Princess taking a bath in our big garden tub at the back of the house so she would not see or hear anything. The delivery men arrived later than eight and it took quite a bit of time to get the piano inside. The salesman probably paid lots of extra cash out of his own pocket to get the delivery company to deliver the exact model piano in cherry wood that was not the one set aside in the warehouse for us, the serial numbers did not match what was on our sales receipt and the delivery receipt, but the piano was in excellent condition.

In the morning we placed a large red bow on the sheet-covered box. After opening all her other presents, she was delighted to see her new piano, out of tune, but definitely materialized from her hopes into reality. To this day, the Princess does not know what a horrible-happy day that was for her parents, known to us as Blue Note Christmas.

The Blue Screen Christmas 2011
I hope you have some hot chocolate left because I may have another story that rivals the first one.

This Christmas had its similarities with the one six years ago. I call it the Blue Screen Christmas because the big present was in technology and everyone knows what the blue screen of death is, but instead of being focused on one thing, the real problems where mostly circumfluous of the new additions in technology and the Princess being sick.

Last year we had a very meager Christmas. As I was promised by God, this year has been a bit easier financially, but we had much to catch up, not with bills, thankfully, but taking care of broken things like the dishwasher and the vans and many other things. For this Christmas, my husband and I planned to get a Wii and Netflix. That was to be the big present.

However, my husband had this idea: while our twenty-some year old TV could be used, it would all be so much better on a HD, flat screen, wide screen TV. The prices were very good and we could get one that was Netflix ready, so we did not have to stream through the Wii. Technology is just advancing at lightning speed these days! My husband also mentioned getting a Blu Ray/DVD player; he had seen one for just $88. I just looked at him saying that we only have one Blu Ray movie that he had bought two years ago by mistake and they were too expensive, besides we were getting Netflix! We only really needed the Wii to stream it and play the sports games.

You have to live with my husband to know that when he merely mentions such things that often he has already gotten them. That is why whenever he just talks about something, I get nervous, and then he will say that I am getting upset over nothing, that he is just talking and he would not do anything without my agreement—Oh, yeah! What about the iguanas, the riding lawn mower,...(this list goes on and each has a long story)? Now I can add, the TV and the Blu Ray Player and...well, this is the story.

He did give me a bit of advance warning. He told me two weeks ago on Saturday evening about the TV and player. The next day's Sunday School lesson was about confessing to each other—such wondrous timing! So we had the TV in our closet and the first thing I thought of was that we now needed to go shopping for a console, because our old TV was a build in the console type. Another thing to buy, but he assured me he had it covered with the extra money he was making being on call the last two months. (His biggest confession was not the presents but what happened to the money he made that was supposed to be used to pay down our debts that I never did see.)

We went shopping at furniture stores on Thursday this past week after sending the Princess to her friend's house for a few hours, the one who had the cold; the Princess had already been well-exposed and was showing some signs of it so at that point it did not matter much. We found a cherry wood console for the price we wanted and purchased it. The console would be brought from the warehouse to the store for pick up on Friday the day before Christmas Eve. I began having a déjà vu moment there, but my husband assures me again it all will go well this time. It is obvious that the Princess is becoming sicker, so we did not go to our pastor's surprise birthday party that night.

Friday we wait for the call; no call. I asked my husband to please not wait until it gets too late as we did on the Blue Note Christmas. He makes the call. The console was not sent to the store—déjà vu. (I think we are cursed in this particular way.) Later on they contact us saying they had one we can pick up and my husband does that, leaving it in the van. The Princess is too sick to be playing outside, she was lying down, so she would not be seeing it there.

Friday night the Princess sleeps well and we wrap presents until 2:00 AM. Saturday she is lying around still coughing and sneezing, so it is obvious we will not be going to church that evening or the next day, which was a big disappointment for all of us. She had worked for weeks on "Still, Still, Still" to play Christmas morning. I will also have to cancel a horse riding lesson on Monday and find someone else to do chores at the horse barn on Tuesday.

Christmas Eve night, we hoped to set up the TV and all the components that night to have her see them first thing in the morning as if Santa brought it and everything was set up and working, even though the Princess informed us that she did not think Santa was "an electronics kind of guy." The problem: the Princess cannot sleep. At midnight, my husband gets antsy to begin moving things around. I decided that something needed to be done to keep the Princess from wandering out of bed in case she heard curious noises, so I lay with her in the daybed trying to help her sleep with my presence.

My daughter's room is situated so that she can hear way too much and we determined that it must be Santa so we need to go to sleep. My husband gets everything set up and the old TV in the garage. At 3:00 AM, when I am nearly at the end of my rope and in tears for my sick child and my own lack of sleep, he walks down the hall with a little blue pill, a OTC sinus medication that he says will help her sleep...I am not a violent person but at that moment I wanted to punch him in the face. Three hours since midnight, I have been staying up with my daughter while she suffered with coughing and difficulty breathing; NOW he brings something to help her sleep. He said he forgot he had them. We try not to use synthetic drugs, but he keeps some with him to use sparingly with his traveling and working in dusty environments. I agree there is a time that they are beneficial and, in this case, that would have been hours before he looked for them. Child was sleeping soundly in fifteen minutes and parents were out five minutes later.

Christmas morning was a late start, a very late start although I got up early to feed the furry ones and drizzle icing on the cranberry breakfast cake. All morning, though, I felt like something was missing, because we would not be going to church, I suppose. The Princess did not want to get out of bed, not typical ten year old behavior with presents waiting to be unwrapped, even with little sleep. She was obviously not her energetic self and she did not play with the Wii. We watched A Christmas Story DVD, a present to my husband to replace the one we used to have; we lost it letting someone borrow it, we think. The Blu Ray player enhances to near HD quality so the colors, details, and even the sound was just amazing. Yes, a very big difference! It is like when we went from a black and white TV with two snowy stations to color TV with cable, but in a 21st century way. We watched Avatar on it too—WOW!

Oh, and we found out that our Netflix-ready TV would work if we had a faster wireless router, so my husband went out this morning to get one. With electronics, it is never just this one thing and it all will work—never! Thankfully, some gift cards should cover the bulk of that cost and with that new router I will be able to move some things off my computer onto an external hard drive that I will access easily when home. My computer has been starting to have some problems because of hard drive space.

My husband is leaving early for the airport tomorrow morning, but he still got the new router in and working. He set up all the computers and the TV, which he did not think he would have time to do. The Princess and I watched a show streamed through Netflix and it worked quite well! Still, I wish she felt better and could play the Wii too.

Blue Note or Blue Screen Christmas?
My dilemma is my child is still sick so the latter is too fresh for me to be objective, so I am not so sure which one is worse. That is why I am asking you: Which Christmas do you think was the worse one, Blue Note or Blue Screen?

My Lord, thank you for the good and the bad years. One cannot be appreciated as well without the other. Please heal my daughter.

Earlier Works of the Princess

A poem begins with a lump in the throat. ~Robert Frost

Some of those lumps may be in the mama's throat, I think. My Princess has gone through many phases over the years. She gets craft ideas and makes things on her own like this "Spring" collage. About the same time she made this, two years ago, she began a poem phase. I have come to realize it was not just phase, but rather a developing skill that she works on in spurts (she is so much like me). These are some of her first works at rhyming. Clearly rhyming had priority over reasoning, but I found them quite cute...and I can do that because I am her mama with the lump in my throat.

I dropped my thoughts in my soup,
and put them in a chicken coop.

Grab a pickle,
then get an ickle,
and you'll feel a tickle!

Let dog in,
Let dog out.
Oh, so much scampering about!

Take a bath if you're muddy,
After that you'll be so cuddly.

~ Thank you, my Lord, for the gift of creativity and the delight in seeing my daughter's talents develop. ~

Sharing Stories of Two Lifetimes

Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget. ~Unknown

I suppose I began thinking over my childhood after writing my last post. I used to live in a small community next to a lake in Ohio. We lived in a cottage that was meant to be a summer rental and was not very warm in the winter. There were not many children in the area and some only lived in a rental property for a few months. However, there was one girl just a year ahead of me in school who lived nearby.

She was the only child of older parents. Her father had a pipeline job that would make them move temporarily for a few months at times, but they would eventually come home to their farm. She had horses and taught my brother, my sister, and I how to feed apples to horses with our hands flat. She had a white painted playhouse in which we once had placed tadpoles caught in the ditches where we were not suppose to be because of the water moccasins in the area (and my brother did bit by one once). She had own room all to herself and a phone in her room! We had to go next door to my grandmother's to use a phone, a party line then, and phones were used so rarely in those days. I do not ever remember being envious of my friend even though she had so much more than I did, I just enjoyed playing with her. My family moved to a small city to live with my mother's father and the one time we stayed there for a vacation week, she was gone with her family.

My mother told me some years ago that she had found out where my friend was and her married name and maybe even her address, but I did not contact her. I am not sure why...perhaps it was because of my past. At her place or in Mr. Ike's yard, a large yard behind our small one, I could play out my illusions of innocence, normalcy, and even joy. At the same time, I am sure I did not seem so "normal" to other people. I always felt people knew things about me, but most people probably did not know much at all in reality.

Perhaps I wanted to keep the memories as they were, that my friend still lived at the small farm and I could visit her anytime if only in my memories. To know who she became and what she is doing now would remove the mystery and fade the memories perhaps. Who knows? We might not even like each other as we are now....

Well, today I remembered her name and the town in which she used to live. I looked it up and found her Facebook page and there was a picture of her. I knew in an instant it was her, but I have this staunch conviction to not join Facebook, so I found her husband's business and called explaining briefly who I was and that I was hoping to get his wife's phone number. He was very kind as he gave me her cell phone number and told me she was out running errands as she had the day off.

I called the number not having a clue what I would say and was almost relieved to get her voice mail. (I mean, could it be that we would have anything at all in common? Did that matter, really?) At least this way, I thought, it would be up to her whether she wanted to really talk to me or not. A few minutes later she called me back.

How do you fit the stories of two lifetimes into just a part of a day? It is impossible. Before the conversation ended, she gave me her email address and I promised to send her my blog address. Pictures were promised also.

Since she will be reading this, I just wanted to tell her something I did not on the phone: Thank you, Debbie, for being my friend. You may never know how much your friendship meant to me.

~ Thank you, my Lord, for all times I was able to be a happy child playing with my friend. ~

Would You be so Kind Please...

Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath. ~Eckhart Tolle

...to just say a prayer for me. I do not like talking about my faults as I think that they should be obvious enough as it is, but I am in need of a little help with feelings of anger. I am not sure if it is lack of hormones or that my daughter is ten or just that I feel alone so much of the time because my husband is away from home so much (not lonely really, just...alone) or if I just need a vacation. There are many excuses from which to choose, but usually when something is eating at me this long it has something to do with my past and something in my present is triggering it.

The last time I noticed such a trigger was when the Princess turned six years old. I just could not remember her actual age when I was asked or just thought about her. In my mind she went from five to seven. My mind would just not accept she was six, as if I could just skip it. I had to examine this and I realized that something horrible happened to me when I was six that changed me. I will not be going into what it was exactly, but it had to do with my father and how he abused me.

When I was ten, as the Princess is now, my brother Christopher died. He was just one year younger than me. In fact, his birthday was just two days after mine and was just a month away. We had to share our birthdays and even the cake. I wish now I had not been so selfish as to want my own cake because I have had plenty since that year and it has meant so little.

My brother was a troubled boy. I supposed we all were troubled really. My father abused us. My mother often neglected us as she like to use escapism and often she placed all the responsibility of my siblings solely on me. She also did not protect us being so afraid of my father herself. Because of all this, I never trusted either of my parents, but there was a time when Christopher really needed help and we all were too wrapped up in the little ruts of our own survival modes to notice his desperation.

They called it an accidental suicide as if he did not mean to cause his own death, but my mother and I knew it was his second attempt, the first being just a year or two before. He might have meant it only to scare us as before because he was angry, but unlike the first time, there was no threat and no witnesses. He stomped up stairs alone and then there was only the aftermath.

I remember seeing my father in tears when he arrived home. It was a surreal moment. The man who treated us so badly and at times could have kill us himself was in tears over the death of his son, my brother. Why did I not protect him? I know why. I was a child myself, a scared child, even a cruel one then because had I not said "I wish you would get lost" and even "I wish you were dead"? (Oh, yes, I did say such things then but never since.)

I became a Christian soon afterward. I believed in having hope, real hope, for the first time in my life. I really thought my father would change and he seemed to for several months, but then it all went back to the way it had been before, however I was different. I was no longer as frightened as I had been. I realized that I could be the next one who would be so desperate and I found anger had replaced much of my previous fears.

However, I also learned that I did not like the results of allowing myself to be angry outwardly. It usually resulted badly and I did not like hurting other people's feelings. I did not like being the abusive one, so I learned to turn my anger inward toward myself. Later, I suffered a terrible depression that lasted two years after I turned twenty.

I have healed of my past since then, but there are still scars and I am still surprised when my attention is drawn to one, as when the Princess turned six. I have forgiven and mercifully have forgotten much of everything until I notice that something is driving me to avoid something, like not saying my daughter is six years old, or I am having mounting unrest and anger issues. It usually takes some time and prayer for me to understand the source of it. Once it is revealed, it all disappears as mysteriously as it started.

In the meantime, unfortunately, I tend to feel hurt, get over-sensitive, and drive away the people who mean the most to me. I am so disgusted with myself because my daughter probably gets the worst of it as she is around me the most, although I have not been much better to my husband, who has been through this before and has so much patience with me.

So, here I am in my own self-made pit of despair asking for some prayers. I have been fighting this for a few months as it has been building, but it is now wearing me down. I have not really been sure of the source, not sure I have it even now, but if not I think I am close. I am thinking that perhaps I need to forgive myself for not protecting my brother, as I am not sure I ever allowed myself to forgive myself completely and perhaps I am making my daughter feel as badly as I did at the age of ten, in a way punishing her as I wish to punish myself. Perhaps that is it.

After I wrote this all out, I did not want to post it...but then I thought that it might give someone else some insight of the struggles one goes through inside the cycle of abuse. I have not abused my daughter, but I have been too easily irritated and hard on her lately. She has been displaying an attitude that adds fuel to this fire, but I wish with all my heart to cool it down for both of us. After all, I am her parent and should be the good example for her in how to overcome bad feelings and treat others well. It is more difficult when you had bad examples in your own childhood, but God provides what is needed, I have only to accept what He has provided to make this right.

~ My Lord, I have been avoiding You because I am ashamed. You gave me so much guidance and time to heal of that past and break a cycle before you gave us this child. Please do not let any part of it touch her now. If this is not the source of my restlessness and anger, please reveal it. Please, let my anger be replaced with forgiveness and keep my relationship with my daughter as I wish You to keep Your relationship with me, full of patience, healing, encouragement, and genuine love. ~

Counting to Ten

Take a deep breath, count to ten, and tackle each task one step at a time. ~Linda Shalaway

There are times when pictures say more than words...this may not be one of those times. The Princess is now ten years old...ten years...TEN...a whole decade! One fifth of my life has been focused on the caring and educating of this one child. Amazing! I want to slow it down. Will this sign work? Will she slow down so I can continue to watch out for her as a child? Probably, not. More importantly, will she remember what I tried to teach her and those little special things I tried to do for her, some not that easy and quite time consuming?

There is one thing I do for my daughter's birthdays, usually: I make and decorate a cake. I am no expert but you can see that I have made significant improvements throughout the years, even though I rarely make more than one cake a year. (I would not want to do this for a living.) For the sake of privacy, I am showing the cakes without her name on them, but most of them had her name and age on them.

1

Note to self: Do not place icing in freezer to cool it because it can change color, hence the color difference in the bear's fur. But seeing blue icing smeared on a one-year-old's lips is precious!

2

Outlining in a nice unbroken line is definitely NOT my thing, especially with black!

3

Wooly lambs are far easier to do!

4

We had so much stress that year that we did not take many pictures, not even for her birthday. I remember making a rocking horse cake but sometimes I get too busy living life to document it. The picture is of a furry Christmas tree cake I made for Christmas to celebrate Christ's birthday. This is a tradition we do not do anymore, because there are too many sweets to go around then as it is and it took too much time away from guests.

5

The Princess wanted a castle...this did not really qualify, but at least it was pink!

6

We spent her sixth birthday with her God-parents and my aunt and uncle. Her God-mother wanted to get a heart-shaped cake with pink roses, so I did not make a cake this time.

7

I was pleased she chose the Bob and Larry cake shape knowing that it might be the last time and I wanted to make it special...without black outlining. I found a recipe for a butter cream fondant and this was my first attempt with it. I loved that my back was not hurting the next day. It was actually fun working with something like a oily play dough and I was done in record time. I vowed to do more fondant cakes in the future.

8

You can read about Sammy Lamby with Hunny Bunny (why they mean so much to us) at Sammy Lamby Cake. I did part in fondant, but the swirls of wool are of a tastier butter cream icing.

9

Last year was the first time we invited friends over for the Princess' birthday. We made it very special as you can read at Our Victorian Princess Tea Party. This cake was entirely fondant, but a different recipe so that it would have the matte finish. I enjoyed making this one so much and was quite pleased with how it looked and tasted.

10

The rocking horse shape was used to make this chocolate, fondant-iced cake, but the Princess wanted something more real life as she is into horses so it was to be a grass pasture rather than rockers. It looks like a rather fat pony to me, but she loved it. Although I love chocolate, I usually am not fond of chocolate cake, but this recipe was pretty good.

You are a welcome to come by for a sample, if you would like....

~ Thank you, my Lord, for this young life that has enriched my own so much. Thank you that I can bring her a bit of pleasure and teach her that a person can be creative with anything, if they are willing to try and learn. One day, I suspect that she will be making one of her cake creations for me. ~

Counting Sixteenth Notes

Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul. ~Plato

I have dreaded this moment since my daughter began piano in May of 2005...yes, five and a half years ago. For those of you who are new readers, my daughter started piano just after she turned four years old, after begging me for a year, and she has a gift for it. This is the Princess at 4½ years old, with just six months of lessons, at her very first informal recital at a coffee shop. Quite a difference when comparing her last recital this spring: The Little Lady Plays a Minuet.

Aw, such a sweet memory! It was all so simple and fun, but even then I knew it was inevitable, this dreaded moment, and now it is upon me: counting sixteenth notes!

The Princess is learning another Bach piece, this one with sixteenth notes, that she must have ready for judging in a few months. Those of you who enjoy music but have had no training may not fully appreciate my repugnance to learning to count sixteen notes. Quarter notes in 3/4 time, as minuets are, are just simply counting 1, 2, 3. That was easy! Somewhere in her second year of her formal training, she learned eighth notes. Counting them is not that difficult: 1 and 2 and 3 and (or in short hand 1 + 2 + 3 +)...repeatedly.

Now it is sixteenth notes and it it just unnatural for me. We need to learn to count like this: 1 ee and ah 2 ee and ah 3 ee and ah. In the meantime, my daughter is playing with her right hand a dotted eight note, then a sixteenth note and then two staccato quarter notes (detached or just hit the key and lift so you do not hold it at all giving an abrupt and often playful sound). That is just the first measure and we can barely do it!!!

Now if this was the only song she has to learn, memorize, and perform without music for the judging, I know she would get it and she will get it, however she has to also pick another song to begin learning for this same judging and these are not simple pieces. In between we have two holiday breaks so she will not have at least three lessons with her teacher too.

I have to say, though, in performance when most children tend to freeze up, the Princess really shines, but I also know the hours of practice, prayers, and tears with which we both struggle to be performance ready just so she is able to sit there playing as if it is the easiest, most natural thing in the world for her to do.

~ My Lord, one of my fears is that I will be a hindrance in what training You wish have for my daughter as she is being prepared to for Your purpose, so please help me learn to count sixteenth notes with ease. ~

Perserving Pegasus

Preserve me, O God: for in thee do I put my trust. ~Psalms 16:1

After we returned from Florida, we began to see some problems with Pegasus. She is sickly and needs some tending. I have been a bit worried this time she may not pull through.

I suppose it is odd to name a vehicle, but we had good a reason to do so. When the Princess had just turned four years old, she began piano lessons with the only teacher who would consider taking a child so young that I could find. I have written about all this previously at Thursday's Child Has Far to Go. What I did not tell about in that story, after the second lesson, Sarah and I were in an accident on the way home.

I was making a left hand turn at a light and I am the type of driver that does not pull out into the intersection until I can make the turn. There were no cars coming and I began to pull out to make the turn. My eye caught motion on the right side and I realized in that nanosecond we were going to be hit broadside. Not only we were hit, but we began tipping over rather gently and the next thing I knew the van was resting on the driver' side and my daughter was screaming behind me. Neither one of us was hurt...well, in my hurry to get back to my daughter, I placed my hand down on broken glass and a day later I had those normal slight aches and pains that happen with things like that. I had to be helped out through the passenger side window after I had handed my daughter to someone to get her out. The Princess was not hurt at all but it was horribly hot that day, and later she was rather upset that they hauled our van away.

The police officer told me I was at fault but that he was not going to cite me. At the time I thought it was strange, but I was still shaken up and concerned about the Princess and my husband was at least an hour away. Traffic was very bad so by the time my husband got there, the accident scene had been completely cleaned up and I was cooling off in the corner store where I had the time to think it all out with a clearer head. During that time it dawned on me that there was no sound before the jeep was crunching metal in the side of my van. You know, you tend to hear the screech of tires and look around hoping you at not the one they are going to hit, right? There was no sound, no warning, just that motion I saw in my peripheral vision.

My husband inspected the crash site for himself and confirmed that the other driver had not touched her brakes at all. The only rubber on the road was from our own tires were she pushed us sideways before we tipped. Obviously, she had not tried to avoid the accident and had her foot on the acceleration as she hit, which made her push on it harder. That and the fact that she had a vehicle that is higher off the road and I had a conversion van that is more top heavy...well, we tipped over.

The other thing that bothered me is that I knew the road was clear before I started my turn, but I remember two vehicles in the right turn lane and the second one might have been hers as the first one was still there after the accident. I think she had popped out of the turn lane, and obviously was not looking straight ahead, where this huge, white, hi-top conversion van was broadside in front of her, when she come into the intersection. Maybe she was looking behind to be sure she was clear that way...?

Now I feel I should tell you why I was rather relaxed as we were being hit. The Lord had been preparing me through dreams and feelings about being hit on that very side and tipping over gently with just the Princess and me for about six months before it happened. My husband during that time moved the car seat from the driver's side to the passenger side and, because of these dreams, I moved it back. I knew we were going to be fine, but I also knew that if the Princess had been on that side, she would have been hurt. The chair had taken the greatest impact and ended up askew in the middle of the van. God's warning protected her.

Anyway, the result was our conversion van was totaled, we had a few extra visits to the chiropractor, and the Princess had fears about tipping over every time we turned, especially if I was driving. We replaced that vehicle with another conversion van, a black one, and I named it "The Panther" so that she would feel a bit more secure because the Panther was strong and protective. It worked well for the following year and, in time, her fears subsided. As much as I wanted to keep the Panther, as it was a great van, I felt the Lord's calling for us to downside about two years later, so we sold it and purchased a white mini-van; all this before we even knew that my husband was to be let go from his job.

Since our last vehicle had a name, this one would need one as well, so the Princess felt, and Pegasus seemed to be appealing to all. Pegasus was only meant to be a second vehicle, as my husband had always had a company vehicle most of the years of our marriage. However, after he lost his job, Pegasus has been our main and only vehicle, as the new job required traveling more by plane. It concerned me when we found out, after the sale, that she was a repo and had been in an accident, but I had prayed about the van and I felt this is the one we were to get. She has her quirks and had a great deal of miles when we first got her, but she has been rather dependable as we put a great deal more miles on her.

Back to today...as you know, we just returned from Florida and we knew it was time for some regular maintenance, changing the timing belt and water pump, but the Pegasus began leaking oil too. I was supposed to take the Princess to piano lessons and go grocery shopping today, so my husband suggested that I stop on the way at the garage we have do our servicing—great Christian people—to have them give her a look-see. We were very concerned because Pegasus is over ten years old with high mileage, so anything really major is probably not going to be worth repairing.

There may be a day that we will have to make a decision to give up on her...I am happy to say that today is not that day after all. Yes, she needs some repairs and she is going to be in the shop all day tomorrow and it will cost us more than we hoped but also far less than we feared. Because of the possible results with her problem, we did not go out for errands after all, but just came back home to let her rest.

~ My Lord, thank you for giving us a dependable vehicle and that we have been able to afford its maintenance and repairs. You know our needs, my Lord, and we are trusting you to provide them. ~

Craving Distractions

The more you let yourself be distracted from where you are going, the more you are the person that you are. It's not so much like getting lost as it is like getting found. ~William Stafford

Yesterday the sun flooded in and the temperature kissed the 70° mark for the first time in quite awhile. The warmth and clear wild blue yonder were far too welcoming. On the hour drive home from dropping off my love at the airport, the silent petition brightly shined in my face: This would not be the typical light-homeschooling-after-the-morning-drop-off-at-the-airport day. No, this would be an all-out battle for the mind of a child between unappreciated math facts and "When can I play outside?"

Who could blame the child?

My own mind-battle, starved of a full two hours of sleep, argued between taking a nap and getting a long list of things done, but all day I craved distractions. Let's face it: anything to do with homeschooling and housework would be superbly and unmistakably sabotaged.

The Princess began with piano followed with math. Then we had lunch on the front porch. Afterward, while sitting on the love seat on the porch, quite comfortably cushioned with pillows, she read a chapter of a book to me, which put me to sleep a few times. Somehow that one word that just did not sound right would arouse me from the light slumber, but I would have to ask her where it was on the page as I vaguely remembered something two paragraphs back and then it all faded away as my eyes closed. The chapter read and my own body in betrayal, we decided that we should indulge ourselves in the hot tub after I did a few things while she played a bit and put her things away.

The hot tub was soothing, but oddly, I did not fall sleep as I have been known to do. Instead, I was enamored with my daughter. I remembered our first summer with the hot tub that she could not stand in the middle at all and how she would, being quite independent, walk all around the edge holding on. I remember the first time she could finally stand on her tiptoes in the middle and still hold head above the water. Here she is standing with the water line at her waist!

I thought to myself, she is such a pretty girl, with her fine facial features and a lithe frame. She has always been a delight to me, but more so that day because she was so pleasant to be with. We had done things that she enjoys so much. Such little things, really, that bring her so much pleasure. Why don't I do them more often?

When she wants to have tea, why does it seem such a bother? While I look at all the preparation, as Martha had done, I forget that she is my Mary, from whom I am to learn to enjoy the things that really matter.

So, we enjoyed the day, each other, the lunch on the porch, the hot tub, and nature. While in the hot tub, we both were called into fascination with a red shouldered hawk in the nearest tall tree, so easily seen since the trees are still bare. The Princess tried to imitate the call, which gave the hawk cause to turn and look at us as if to say, "Now, just who are you?"

Yes, for the most part we wandered through the day, enjoying many distractions, and found each other.

~ My Lord, thank you so much for my daughter. I remember praying to You so many times while she was in my womb that we would be the kind of parents she needed and she would be the kind of child we needed. She is. Thank you for this gift. ~

A Year to Reflect Upon

The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As of today, I have been blogging for a year, so I have been reflecting on the past year quite a bit lately. I have decided to celebrate my first anniversary by listing a few of my favorites:

From Men to Monkeys was inspired from the picture posted, which I found quite amusing.

I am very thankful I wrote Mary and Martha so that this sweet memory, a little reminder from my Lord, will not be forgotten.

An Abstract Sequential Teaching an Abstract Random is something that maybe only a homeschooling parent can appreciate.

The Princess and Me is special to me because I see myself in my child.

Full of Laughters is—well, you just have to read for yourself.

I had mixed feelings about listing Practicing Face Art, because some of the work now seems so amateurish to me (even then it did, to be honest), but it distinguishes how much I have improved. This post was of work I had done in the month after receiving my first palette of face paints. I have enjoyed experimenting and perfecting the art ever since.

Camping in the Woods was a bit of a trip on the wild side.

Sunday Morning in the Dark a morning devotion to my Lord.

I felt compelled to write Changing My Expectations with someone in mind who at the time visited my blog, but it is a philosophy that has had a profound influence in my life and has allowed me love people more.

My Lord Keeps His Promises and so He has.

Why I Blog...? so I will not forget why I do this.

~ Thank you, my Lord for this last year. You have given me so much. I pray that this blog is not just for me, but that others have been blessed, if even in the smallest way, and that it has allowed You to touch their hearts. ~

Just One Year Ago

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family. ~Anthony Brandt

A dear friend's mother past away this week. For years they had a difficult relationship, but things changed and their relationship improved in recent years. My friend was an only child so she all the responsibility of her mother's nursing home care and making funeral arrangements. Because of our one car situation, the distance, and bad timing, I was unable support my friend in person.

This event has caused me to reflect a bit on when my mother past on one year ago on January 24th and the saddest part...it really had no impact on my life. I detest how cold it sounds, but during the past year I did not grieve, I have no regrets, and I am not in denial. My mother and I had very little in common. I had an abusive father, whom she also feared, which was stronger than her motherly instincts to protect her children. Except for fleeting moments that remain dear to me, I don't remember feeling any closeness to her since I started first grade at five years old. Still, when one loses a mother at any age, at least some feeling of loss is expected, regardless of most troubles there has been in the relationship, but for me, the relationship with my mother died, for the last time, when I announced my pregnancy.

I never really understood her reaction to the news. It was too bizarre to have any rational reasoning supporting it. There was a time when she was pressing me to have her grandchild and I had very bad back problems. (Back Pain) She had done this for years, but at the time it was quite inappropriate. I finally told her to not mention anything about me having children; it was not only unlikely that I would have children, but I did not want any, which was quite true at that time with our circumstances: back problems, other family stresses, finances, no room where we lived, etc.

I suppose she took me at my word and assumed I never would change my mind as our circumstances changed. However, I did and I had been telling her for a year that we were trying to have a baby, so it really should have been no surprise when I finally became pregnant...but it was...quite apparently.

I had made a terrible error. I broke a personal rule about having expectations with my mother that had kept the peace between us for over nearly ten years. (Changing My Expectations) I had expected her to be happy about the news. While she had not mentioned children to me in all those years, I believed that she still desired for me to have her grandchild...but I had not factored into the simple equation that my mother holds grudges; sadly, in her walk with the Lord, she did not learn how to forgive and forget. And, I was so angry for her acting like the baby I was carrying inside of me was some kind of disease, something she just could not accept.

I had waited until we had our first house with room for us all, until we were financially ready, until our relationship was stable, and until my back had been in good shape for a few years. We had tried upon occasion before, but it did not happen. Now I was about to turn 40 years old, still two years younger than my mother was when she had her last child and she was not in that good of health. My health was excellent and the pregnancy went very well. Above all that, my Lord had told me quite clearly when I would be pregnant and I had related the story to my mother, but she just did not see the Lord's will in all this.

Unfortunately, two things happened during the pregnancy, my husband's sister died and I was terribly angry with my mother for how she continued to treat me. Right after the baby was born, I finally told her not to call anymore, to just pretend I was dead—a very terrible thing to say, I know. I started having upper back problems again, worsening as time when on, but I had absolutely no difficulty or pain when I held the baby, so I was sure that it was because of this anger I was still harboring against my mother. It continued to worsen. Nearly a year after the baby was born, the Lord showed me something that was so surreal I don't know if I can put it into words, as if I was my baby and my mother was me but I was also my mother at the same time, but at the moment of that realization the anger left me and I forgave her completely. My back pain diminished and was completely gone two weeks later. I apologized and asked my mother's forgiveness several times in writing and sent pictures of my daughter, but she did not respond.

My mother was invited to the 50th wedding anniversary party for her sister, my aunt, but told her she could not come, because I was also invited and planned to come. My daughter was just fourteen months old and it could have been the first time she had seen her, so we hoped she would change her mind, but she did not. All this time my aunt was concerned that I would have regrets, but I had honestly forgiven my mother and again had no expectations of her, so she could not hurt me.

Years later, my Lord prepared me, so I was not that surprised when one day my mother called me; I had been expecting her to do so for several weeks. She did not talk about anything much, certainly not about last few times we had spoken to each other. She talked to my daughter, then five years old, for the first time that day. We talked whenever she called, which was about once a month, as if nothing had happened, but for me our relationship had changed significantly: I no longer hoped she would be the mother I really wanted, that dream had died in me. Now and then she would tell my sister we had the best conversations, these were the conversations in which I do not remember saying anything at all beyond hello. She would not see her granddaughter for two more years when she was 7½ years old. The one and only time she saw her was during a visit in the autumn of 2008, when her health was quickly deteriorating, just months before she would pass on.

The only thing my mother said to me during that visit, "All those years...wasted." She may have meant it as a blame on me, or she may have meant it as a shame on herself, perhaps on both of us. At that point, it did not matter to me...I choose to see it as one of the few tender moments I will always remember. I had no expectation of her and no ill will. All I felt was pity for her because I knew in my heart she still was holding a grudge, it was just swept under the rug for a time. If she had been in better health, she would have swept it right back out, like she used to do. As I write this, I find myself smiling...at least, that would have been the mother I knew.

My daughter played a hymn at her funeral and I know that would have made her smile. I think it is sad that I don't feel her loss in my life, but I did certainly love her enough to forgive her and I have hope. Maybe she understands all that now. The one thing to which I am looking forward is seeing her in heaven as a perfected being without her grudges. Yes, I am very much looking forward to that meeting where there are no sorrows.

My Lord, I am thankful for Your guidance you given me all my life and the wisdom You have bestowed upon me about forgiveness through the good and bad with my family. Please take good care of my family members who rest with you now. I asked again, as I have so many times, my Lord, please keep my relationship with my own daughter close and loving.

Thunderstorms

Tears such as angels weep. ~John Milton

When the Princess had began walking, she noticed a thunderstorm for the first time and seemed a bit concerned. I carried her out onto the front porch while it was raining hard with lightning flashing and thunder crashing. I realized that I did not really have a plan, but I did not want to tell her the story my mother had told me, that it was the angels bowling--not that convincing when my mother looked quite frightened herself. (Besides, somehow the bowling thing took away the beauty of the thunderstorm and my idealistic imaginings of angels.)

My grandfather once took me out on his front porch and had me watch a storm; they have intrigued me ever since. So, I told the Princess to look for the flash of light and then we would count until the thunder came. When the thunder rumbled, I jiggled her up and down laughingly saying "Boom-da-boom-da-boom!" She loved it and she learned that day the further away the storm was the longer it took between seeing the lightning and hearing the boom-da-booms.

Actually, she loved it so much that for the next few years whenever she heard thunder she ran as fast as she could to the window to watch the storm and began counting so she could announce if it was close or far away. The child was so fascinated that she actually would have her hands on the window as if glued and squeal in delight the more violent the storm would be. I could even put her to bed at the height of a storm and she would go to sleep without a problem, once she got too tired to peek outside her window.

One evening I was talking to my sister on the phone while there was a storm where she lived and her daughter, around ten or eleven years old at the time, asked if she could come to bed with her. I explained to my sister what I had done with the Princess, thinking it might be helpful. My sister confessed that she was terrified of storms herself, even would hide under the covers still just like she did as child, and she believed she had taught this fear to her daughter, just as our mother had taught that fear to us.

It is natural to be afraid of loud noises and things over which we have no control, certainly storms qualify, but I prefer teaching my daughter to not be afraid, even of the very things I fear, because those fears are simply in the mind. Although I tried to hide it, the Princess now knows I have a fear of heights, but she also has seen me go out on a wooden lookout protruding from the sheer side of a mountain to enjoy the view of the entire valley below. I have learned there is less fear when there is familiarity, so the more I do this kind of thing during my life the less I fear it and the more she will see there is nothing to fear but fear itself. We can chose to live within the limitations of our fears or chose to let them go and be free. I want to teach the Princess she has a choice when faced with a fear and that she can choose to rest in the Lord.

Since her younger years, the Princess has been very curious about weather and clouds. She is a bit more concerned about storms, because she is now aware of the damage they can do. She understands much about the science behind them, even so the Princess still likes one of my fanciful explanations: Raindrops are from the angels when they are so happy that they cannot contain it and those tears of happiness rain on the earth to make things grow.

My Lord, let my daughter, and I as well, learn to rest in You and walk without fear amidst all kinds of storms.