Change...Progress?

Change

                 Change is something. 

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes not and always a varying degree of difficulty. I used to think I was flexible, easy-going, and adjusted quickly to change.

Grammy never even got her copy of this
because it took me so long to order.

                But then my life and everything I knew as normal changed. Right before my mom died, Addie started crawling. That was the last milestone my mom would ever see. I cried Labor Day weekend when we were sharing a loft with some friends and friends of friends and Addie was up all night cutting her first two teeth. I love sleep, but that isn’t why I cried. I cried because things were changing. Life was continuing without my mom, and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t like I thought she’d suddenly come back to life and be confused, but I wanted the world to stop since it felt like it stopped in my mind.

Fewer tomatoes leads to a happier
husband and a greener chile!

                After my mom died, I started making some of my favorite meals that my mom had made. I made her chile rellenos and green chile… not because I wanted to take over or make that change, but because I knew she would make those foods if someone had requested and I wanted to keep it the same. I used the same eggroll wrappers, the same whole green chiles, and the same La Bola recipe for green chile. When Jeff said, “This is delicious! Maybe next time we will try to make it a little greener and a little less red,” I thought No way! This is the way green childe is supposed to be. This is the good stuff!

Life is like freshly chopped jalapenos...
Spicy and can burn you without proper
precautions!

                Recently, the company that makes the eggroll wrappers that we’ve always used went out of business. We have yet to find some that are as sturdy and delicious. We had no choice but to change. I took this opportunity to change our green chile.

                It’s just as good; just not as red.

                Progress? Healing? Perhaps.

Grammy and Addie... Mother's Day 2010.

                Forgetting? Never.

Writing

I cooked today and took photos while I made the green chile because I knew I wanted to write and reflect about the connection to my mom.

It is 9:30 on a Friday night of a week when I have seen very little of my husband.

Dilemma? I must write everyday or I will loose momentum.

I wrote today, with Addie, and we posted some previously written stories on her blog (http://myaddielu.blogspot.com/ ). The story we wrote today will be posted tomorrow, hopefully with photos!

I wrote invitations for Jeff's 30th birthday and shared it in an evite.

I wrote today and shared, so I feel good. I have a plan and photos for a topic for tomorrow, so I feel motivated. It is 9:30 and I am going to bed, so I feel relaxed.

Goodnight. :)

Green Thumb

Green Thumb

            My dad has a green thumb. I don’t know exactly when my mom realized it, but she did brag about his growing ability for as long as I can remember. People gave my mom flowers and plants, and she learned quickly to hand them over to my dad for proper care, and once they were in his care, they bloomed. Other than a Christmas cactus that eventually took over the front window, my mom and plants were incompatible.

            I inherited my mom’s inability to keep plants alive. My mother-in-law gave me a clipping off of her house plant and told me, “It’s so easy to keep alive!” with instructions on how to do so.

            … I killed it.

            My friend Kim gave me a clipping from her house plant. “It’s taking over our condo! Please, take several!”

            … I killed it.

            A company sends cabbages to third grade students every year. There are always a couple of extras, so last year I took one home. Third graders get these things to grow 40 pounds or larger!

            … I killed it.

            My mom died. People recognized the significance of such a loss and the inability to really do anything to make my family and me feel better, so they sent plants to remind us they care about her and us. Addie’s childcare provider Phyllis and her family gave me an orchid. I was grieving and saw the orchid and thought, “Great. I’ve heard those things are hard to keep alive and I didn’t even manage to keep alive the ‘Sorry-we-make-Chris-travel-so-much!’ plant that Becky had given me, thinking I could manage to water it ONCE A MONTH and keep it alive better than her!”

            One year, 8 months, and 22 days later, my orchid has never been so beautiful! In death, my mom’s positive energy lights up living things. In death, those living beings include plants.

            Perhaps my mom is an angel with a green thumb.

Sisters

Sisters

          It’s no secret that I love Christmas music. Students walk into my classroom every morning, and if Christmas music is playing, they know they need to follow morning procedure particularly well because something is up with the teacher. Addie hears Christmas music and asks me to sing along. “Again! Again!” she requests, even though singing has never been one of my strengths. Jeff hears Christmas music and rolls his eyes as he walks away. “It’s not even December!” But he doesn’t turn my music off. When I was in labor, I sang I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, even though Christmas had just passed and I was trying desperately to shave my legs in the most painful shower of my life. It will relax me. If I am relaxed, the baby will be happy and the delivery will be smooth. She’s not supposed to come yet, so we both need to relax.

           People who know me know that I need Christmas music.

          But why? It doesn’t matter if it is churchy music (except for glooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiaaaaa – it drives me nuts that they need to drag that word out soooooo long!) or children’s music (I have clay-mation classics and Frosty movies galore!) or music with no words. Except for that one song, I adore all Christmas music. I hear Tran Siberian Orchestra and think of my parents. My mom was crushed with the blizzards of 2008 when Becky’s flight was delayed and her Christmas surprise of driving in a Hummer limo, listening to Christmas music and looking at Christmas lights had to be postponed. She loved Christmas too and most of her craft fair entries were Christmas related (her biggest sellers were “Santa Bags” and the many angels she and my dad made together).

          Christmas music is important to me because it is the piece of Christmas that I can have anywhere, anytime at a very low price of running a CD player, and music is a time machine to take us to where the music entered our souls.

          I was eleven or twelve. Becky was seven or eight. Christmas was coming! We weren’t unexcited about Santa, but that wasn’t why we were all smiles! We hung out in her room, listening to a countdown of Christmas songs, and sung at the top of our lungs as we wrapped the thoughtfully sought out Christmas gifts for everyone we loved and added our own personal touches.

          After countless rounds of The Twelve Days of Christmas, we were hoarse and we heard Mom calling everyone to dinner a little earlier than usual. Was she calling us early because dinner happened to finish cooking early? Was she sick of the song? The singing? I think she heard the love and joy of best friend sisters and was ready for the family to bond as a whole.

          What’s better than having a sister who happens to be a best friend also? Having a mother who is like a sister, and then having brothers who pick incredible wives to be sisters with us! Becky, Mom, and I had something special. We still do. We always will. Now, though, our special sisterhood has expanded to Mandi and Bonnie, and Kali and Addie are fitting in perfectly!

          I sure am one lucky sister!

Pass it On

Pass it On

          “Anyone want to play Hand and Foot?” someone asked.

          “Yes!” multiple people respond as we congregated around my parents’ dining room table.

          We looked around the table to see who we had partnered with. Mom and Dad. Grandma and Bonnie. Becky and me! Yes! We’re bound to win!

          The game got started and all of the teams were staying pretty even. We won a round and Grandma and Chris lost points because of what they had left in their hands. Dad and Mom won a round and we lost points because of the red three in my foot. The game went on and on. I was starting to see why Jeff and Greg tended to disappear when six decks of cards came out.

          “I can open a book of sixes. It’s clean!” Mom said as she laid down four sixes.

          Why did she wait for a fourth card instead of opening a book the last time she drew a six? Weird.

          Becky drew a card and her shoulders slumped. Bummer. No new books.

          Bonnie drew a card and got a thoughtful look on her face. Her lips pursed. She sucked them in. She discarded.

          “I can open another clean book!” Dad said as he laid down four eights.

          Becky and I exchanged a look. She was as confused as I was.

          “Why didn’t you put down three last turn?” Becky asked.

          Dad smiled. “I didn’t see this card hiding.”

          Casper pushed at my hand. Since there wasn’t any food on the table, he wanted scratches, so I leaned over to scratch his soft white ears. Something caught my eye… Is that a card on the floor? Is that a card between Mom’s toes?

          “Hey!” I jerked up. “What’s going on?!”

          Mom and Dad started cracking up. “This game is going on too long! We need to get other things done today!”

          Mom had been passing Dad cards with her toes, and he had passed cards back to her toes so they could collect the cards that would get the game moving!

(To be fair, they tried to make it really obvious so they could get caught and we could call the game…)

Addie bounced on the couch next to me. We weren’t technically on the same couch since she was on the wedge that connects the greenish sectional that fills the living room, but I could feel the bounces anyway.

          “Here, Mommy,” she said.

          I turned, expecting to see her handing me a Monster’s Inc. memory card or two and burst into laughter! She was handing me some cards… with her toes!

          “Grammy would be so proud!” I told her.

          “Yeah,” she laughed.

          It’s moments like these as I see glimpses of my mom in my little girl that I most easily get to share stories with Addie about Grammy.