Lena found The Dress today!What fun it was to be there as she tried on various styles, culling down to what would become The Dress.I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything.
I was so honored to be there with this “second daughter” of mine.I am not her biological mother, but in many ways our closeness couldn’t be more Mother & Daughter.She is also best friend to my daughter and the sister neither of them had.As a mom I have plenty of extra advice, comments, suggestions and in this case lots of ooohs and aaaahs, and Lena wanted to hear it all.
Lena is beautiful, very smart and knows what she wants, often to the point of stubbornness.But she is usually right.And when it comes to trying on wedding dresses, it is critical to know what you want or you’ll spend hours and hours just trying to decide on a style.She had decided on the simple but elegant approach – no poofy, no lace, no excessive beads or jewels, and good heavens don’t even think of putting a flower or fish netting anywhere near her!It had to be fitted not full, not traditional A-line, not too exposing of the bosom, the perfect white, and the perfect alignment of the bodice with that tiny, tiny waist.
On to the fitting room, where I fastened each dress and then retrieved it for the assistant to hang up.One hook for “possibles”, one for “no way will I wear that.”Several of the styles suited her, and there were two very nice ones that she was beginning to think she would have a hard time choosing between.And then she donned The Dress.
The Dress was gorgeous, elegantly flattering, the perfect cut and flow.The gathering beneath the bodice was worked to perfection, creating an illusion of an even smaller waist, gracing the hips perfectly letting the romantic chiffon panels flow down softly to the floor.As she stepped and turned, the panels slightly parted to reveal smooth satin underneath the outer material.She traded the single, flowered strap for two simple spaghetti straps and voila – the perfect dress for her destination beach wedding.You know it’s The Dress when you simply don’t want to take it off.Ever.
Lena is going to be a beautiful bride.And I will be there to see her say “I Do” in that gorgeous gown.Probably with a tissue to catch happy-tears.
I’m a city girl but not a BigCity girl.I am intimidated by skyscrapers, tall towers, and elevators with more than 7 numbered buttons to push and parking garages.Actually, I detest parking garages – they are often illogical, not well-marked, can be dark and scary, and typically the only places I can park are at the extreme areas with the worst access and least climate control.Those nice, well-lit, close-in spaces are for the lofty folks who can park in “Reserved” or “Contract” without fear of the towing company.
Recently I visited our corporate office in another city.A city bigger than mine.Theiroffices are in a beautiful new space on the 11th floor of one building of a four tower complex.Once you are inside their suite it is lovely, with beautiful views and all the amenities.But to get there you have to negotiate, tall towers, elevators with more than 7 buttons and parking garages.
When I arrived that morning I parked in a 2 hour visitor parking space.I knew I’d be there all day but at their former location the parking was ample and visitor spaces weren’t closely monitored.I exited my car and noticed what a looked like a grown-up hall monitor walking among the rows of parked cars, writing on a clipboard.I found my way to the elevators – thank goodness all the elevators in this building stop on floor 11.
During the morning I heard my co-workers discussing the new space, the move, and the parking and learned it might be wise to move my car.At a stopping point in training, I grabbed my keys and headed out to find long-term visitor parking.
Down the hall to the elevators, press 1.Exit that elevator into the building lobby, round the corner and exit into the parking garage area.Walk to my car.It’s easy when you are in 2 hour visitor parking.
I backed out, shifted into D and began reading the signs.“Exit”, “Retail Parking”, “Stop”, “Contract Parking” … ah, there it was “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.On the roof?Geez, in this 108ยบ weather surely it would not be exposed to direct sun.Round and round I drove, stopping, reading signs, wondering how there could be parking on the roof of a 30 story building.After a few minutes I was up on a level where I could see tops of trees and look down on buildings, and it seemed that the ceiling of this level of the garage had to be the roof.I found a space close to a stairwell and got out of the car, proud that I had found long term visitor parking.Spotting another ‘hall monitor’ I decided to confirm that, and I politely asked if this was indeed long term visitor parking.With a long-suffering look and no smile she replied, “Long term parking is on the roof.Just follow the signs.”Good grief.
Backing out the car again, I made sure not to run over the hall monitor and begin circling the levels again.A few minutes later I rounded a corner and saw the bright sunlight on two uncovered cement flats of parking spaces.Just outside the covered “Contract” parking was “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.The cement slanted upward, walking distance to the closest stairwell was hard to calculate, and not a lick of shade in sight.Welcome to “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.
Now that I was here, how the heck was I going to find my way back to the right building, much less the right elevator?I ended up back at the office by taking this route:
Stair 1 Level 4 stairs to Stair 1 Level 2 stairs
Walk all the way across parking garage to
Elevator 2 Bank D
Elevator 2 Bank D to Elevator 1 Bank D
Exit Elevator 1 Bank D in parking garage, find doors to enter building
Enter Elevator, Press 11
End up on 30th Floor
When the doors opened onto the premier 30th floor, a nice gentleman entered the elevator.Seeing that I was not getting off, he asked which floor I need.“I’m going to the 11th floor,” I said confidently.He just smiled and asked if I was a visitor.
Needless to say I was not looking forward to the end of the day when I’d have to find my way back to car.The crazy thing was I could see my car from our breakroom on the 11th floor.How could that be?I drove up and up and up, only to find later that I parked on the roof next to the 3rd floor of the building??
At the end of the day I filled my water cup and headed bravely for the elevators.Enter elevator on floor 11, Press 1.The elevator immediately raced to the 28th floor, where a nice lady got on with me.I confessed I was new to the building and not having the best experience with the elevators and parking.Immediately we were best friends – turns out she was a new employee to the building and was having the same frustration.I felt a little better.
Exit Elevator on Floor 1
Turn the corner, exit the building to parking garage
Take Elevator 1 Bank D to Elevator 2 Bank D
Exit Elevator 2 Bank D, walk across parking garage to
Stair 1 Level 2
Stair 1 Level 2 to Stair 1 Level 4
Exit on the highest level of “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.
Walk down to car, open all doors and windows, remove sunshield, sweat profusely
To complete my parking experience, as I exited the roof level I couldn’t quite make the tight turn bounded by medians into the exit lane and so of course ran up onto the median.Put it in Reverse, back up, inch forward, back up, inch forward and barely make it through the space and merge into the flow of traffic exiting through the garage.Down all the levels, with only one wrong turn that required going into Reverse, and a few minutes later I was out onto the street.Freedom!Blue sky, marked pavement and regular street traffic never looked so good.
Ramona sits on her shelf slumped sideways, one shoe half off, exhausted. The Peter Rabbit family rests quietly on their shelf, looking strangely expectant. Bambi, having been much loved as Emily's constant companion during her stay, is posed contentedly on the jungle shelf next to Baloo the Bear and Lion. The ring of alphabet blocks remains positioned on floor of the grandkids room as the center ring of Emily's circus. Mr. and Mrs. Noah and their animals are once again nestled in their wooden ark, marveling at their recent stint as circus performers.
The wooden wagon with its picture blocks that make a puzzle, Molly’s favorite toy while she was here, are right where she left them. All the books, replaced by Mommy and Uncle Walter on the last night, are tucked away neatly on their assigned shelves, looking quite pleased at how much they were read.A bright metallic sticker is stuck at child height on the wall at the top of the stairs; another is in the carpet just outside the grandkids room.Tubes of finger paint and some poster board lie unnoticed on the upstairs porch. Bubble wands tossed idly on the porch swing.
All the sippee cups and plastic plates are cleaned and put away; the booster chair is back in its storage spot. No more cheerios or goldfish to dodge on the floor, no more "haz-mat" diapers by "polecat", as Grandpa affectionately referred to Molly when she produced one of those. No more shape pancakes, no more icing birthday cakes together, no more baking cookies with lots of sprinkles. No more tea parties, no more train rides in the grandkids room for all the animals in baskets, chairs and boxes.No more block towers for Molly to knock over.
The house is quiet without that sweet toddler voice piping "tank u", without that little girl voice inquiring, "Grandma, have you seen Bambi?" or "Can you please pass me the scissors and glue?" The arts and crafts carefully made by Emily are stored in her crafts basket downstairs at the children's table. How many times was that table used by her mother for tea parties and crafts when she was that age?
Only Pete the Cat seems pleased that everyone is gone, and even he seems to look for them as he wanders the upstairs.There is a sweet sadness in the air, permeated by lingering joy and love and laughter. Oh how blessed are we to have such family love, to experience the full range of emotions God created in us, and to have faith that God willing we shall be together again soon.
Until then, I think I'll go downstairs and eat that last cookie with the blue sprinkles on it....
Three days ago we celebrated our nation’s 235th Independence Day.July 4th, a day of fireworks and picnics, a day or rest from our paid labor, and a day to recognize and remember the sacrifices of real people over 200 years ago that we might be free.
We are all blessed and very privileged to have been born in this great nation.We must never forget that our freedom and the liberty we enjoy were hard-won; they are not guaranteed and not to be taken for granted.The Founding Fathers (an amazing group of men, check them out if you never have) made it clear in their documents that our independence can remain secure only as long as We the People have a firm conviction that our liberties are a gift of God.
Did you know:
The Declaration of Independence is a one-time, one of a kind document?
The idea of a government getting its power from the consent of the governed, who are individuals with God-given not government-given rights, was new?
The Declaration states 4 clear references to our Creator God
The signers ranged in age from 27 to 70 years.They were businessmen, farmers, doctors, lawyers and preachers.Most were Protestant Christians, some with college degrees, some with military service.
Many of the signers had their homes and property destroyed because they declared their freedom.
Next time you are tempted to complain about that bad day at work or whine about how everything is going wrong lately, consider what it would feel like to come home to nothing – all burned to the ground viciously simply because you said you wanted to be free.I’m going to try to live a little more sacrificially in light of those great patriarchs.Not financially or water rationing for the yard – we are all doing that these days.But in time, giving more thought to how we got here and what I can do to stop the erosion of our freedoms by those who would make us dependent on government rather than its head.Putting my money where my mouth is.Writing articles as a citizen journalist.It’s not even a sacrifice compared to what those guys did.But it’s what I can do.
Lily spent last weekend with us.She’s 2 years old and a delightful child – easy going, extremely well-mannered, has a sweet loving spirit and is a great conversationalist.She is the grandchild of my husband’s only daughter which makes her even more special.
We had a delightful Saturday.After picking up Miss Lil right after breakfast we headed over to Target to check out the children’s clothes and shoes.We found some cute outfits and just the right pair of close-toed rubber soled shoes for our morning outing at ZilkerPark.Such fun to take her on the Zilker Zephyr and ride the train through the park, looking down at the canoeists and dogs on Town Lake and enjoying the park musician who played guitar and harmonica at the same time, hat cocked sideways over his smiling face.I had wanted to feed the ducks, who used to always hang out by the canoes, but there were so many dogs I think they were in hiding.Lily was just as happy tossing our pieces of bread to the birds – the doves and pigeons became her new best friends.As they flocked around her on the ground she told Grandpa, “Look, they’re chewing the bread!”And she proudly announced there were so many there were “five birdies”!
Playing on the playground brought back memories of doing that with my children.It’s wonderful to bring out a mental photo album any time you want and enjoy special times from the past while living similar times.Only now I don’t have the time constraints of a young mother and I have Grandpa to help me carry and watch for danger.Sweet.
Leaving Zilker, it was on to Sandy’s for some good old fashioned burgers.They didn’t have a kid size burger so we got Lily a corn dog.She wasn’t sure what to do with it, but as soon as I showed her how to hold the stick, dip the dog in catsup and take a bite, she was all over it.Sans breading though -she wanted to get right to the meat of the matter.
After nap we decided to beat the heat by playing in the kiddie pool on the back porch.It got pretty crowded with Lily and Grandpa when Duke had to get in on the water play fun.But had no problem with that.A few plastic measuring cups, spoon and a funnel, keep the water hose running and you’ve got hours of 2 yr old entertainment.You don’t have to have a fancy pool or custom playscape in your backyard to have fun with kids, sometimes people forget that.What they want is you and your undivided attention; toys and things are a distant second on their list.Well, time, love and undivided attention are just what Grandpa and Grandma have.What a great day.
But wait, there’s more.At bedtime Lily likes Grandpa to read her a story while I get the pack n play set up (I can face one again, it’s been a month since The Rollaway Cart) and straighten up the grandkids room.She chose several books for him, but the one that had me rolling on the floor was The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Normally this is not a very funny story, but the way Grandpa read it that night was … vintage Grandpa.
Grandpa’s rendition of The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter’s classic story, was not exactly Uncle Remus style.It was more of a country, on-the-verge-of-redneck version – a twist only he could pull off.Here is what I recall of his tale – I can’t remember it word for word because I ended up laughing so hard it was difficult to concentrate.I don’t hear so well with laugh tears rolling down my cheeks.
As his story begins, Peter and his friends decide they want a new corvette.On the way to the car house [car house?Really?] they stop to eat some cabbage.They all get gas, and one of the rabbits gets some thing called the “squirts”.They continue their journey and make comments to each other about how bad they smell, with a lot of boy noises accompanying that dialogue.I don’t know how to type those sounds, just use your imagination.On the way they stop at Grandpa’s house to visit “old Duke” and get some barbeque, apparently the perfect food for little rabbits suffering from gas.They ate the barbeque and it was so good they never left and they all lived at Grandpa’s house with old Duke happily ever after.
Lily was riveted.Seriously.I couldn’t believe it, she never took her eyes off the pages as he turned them.She listened carefully as he read enthusiastically, with great style and fun voice inflections and only brief pauses to think of what to say next.Hey, this is the child who announced at supper that “Grandpa is a yummy, yummy cooker” and kept repeating “Thank you for this wonderful supper”.Of course she’s going to love his new version of Peter Rabbit.
Trouble is I’ll probably never be able to read her the real story; she’ll think I’ve got it wrong……
It is hard to describe how much I love my family.It’s a healthy love, not clannish or obligatory in any way; rather it is a connection so deep as to be unfathomable, and our desire to have gatherings regularly and spend time together has been there as long as I can remember.
My mom has often commented that we are fortunate to have what we have in our family, this bond that so many people do not have.The longer I’m alive the more I agree with her.As my sister said when we parted at our recent family reunion, how very blessed we all are!We want to keep up with what is going on in each other’s lives.We love our inside jokes and all the laughs that happen at our gatherings, we weep when one has a sorrow, we rejoice when there is an accomplishment or new grandchild, and we pray when there are concerns for we know that God is in control and He hears our prayers.
As the self-appointed family scribe for our annual reunions, I can testify to the endless supply of quick witticisms that dart between us.It’s so much fun, and usually so funny, that it is hard to keep up sometimes and hard to enjoy the last comment because the repartee is constant.
Like all families we are a blend of our past, present and future.Our ancestors on my mother’s side have been Texans for many generations, and as I like to say the blood and independent spirit of Texicans and American revolutionaries runs in our veins.There are professionals, college graduates, those established in their chosen trade or field, teachers, project managers, stay-at-home mothers, administrative workers, bankers, fireman, financial decision makers, pilots, those who have traveled abroad for work and for pleasure, business owners, purchasing and warehousing, high-tech managers, HR managers – and that’s just in my immediate family of parents, siblings and our children.As I write it I marvel again at the diverse paths our individual lives have taken yet the path we all return to is the one that starts with the umbilical cord.With the passage of time some of us have married, divorced, been widowed or remain single, and while our group is blessed with the spouses we have added our unity transcends marital status.
My heart is filled with gratitude that once again we were able and willing to gather for visiting and eating and swimming and boating and matching shirts and watching after the little ones, and we have all returned safely home to resume our daily lives.None of us knows what this coming year will bring, but we all know that, God willing, we will all be together again this time next year. And we look forward to it.
Recently my daughter and family moved into their first house.With the packing, moving, working, closing, Grandpa and I came to town for a few days to keep the girls. We arrived on Monday.We chose a nearby hotel with a suite so we could have kitchen, living room and a bedroom to put Molly down in a quiet place.It also served a hot breakfast & dinner, which was perfect for us with a 4 yr old and 1 yr old.
We checked in first to unload our baggage before picking up the girls and all the things that accompany little ones of that age group.When we picked them up, the trunk of the car quickly refilled with suitcases, pack-n-play, favorite dolls and stuffed animals, diaper bag, and blankets that are a must at nighttime.At the hotel, Emily became our official elevator button pusher:3 for the floor to our room, 1 for the floor at mealtime and to get to the pool.There were lots of mini-adventures during the first 24 hours – Molly’s haz-mat diaper, going to breakfast with wrong way Mouse and wrong way Molly, and Grandpa taking Emily swimming – before Grandpa had to leave to get back to work.Dropping him off at the airport, I noticed both the girls were napping.It would be my last moments of quiet since I’d be keeping them by myself on our last hotel night.Back at the room we had a fun bubble-splash bath and we all slept soundly that night.
My plan was to check out the next morning and take them to their new home to get settled.That morning Emily & I read her favorite Bible stories, built pillow houses for Mouse and Rudolph while Molly busied herself trying to open every door, cabinet, and window without success.I began to corral our things for packing onto a bellman’s cart while they played.We had suitcase, pack-n-play, diaper bag, pillows, toys, gift bags – some ransacked & some saved for opening at the new house – and groceries.I loaded and re-loaded until everything was arranged and all I had left was the pack-n-play.Molly had a fresh diaper and a full bottle, Emily was busy helping “ride herd” on this 13 month toddler whom Grandpa had dubbed Wrong Way Molly.Every time you put her down she toddled off in exactly the wrong direction!Wrong Way Molly also has a thing for hiding her bottle – she has a knack for throwing it into drawers, corners, couch cushions – anywhere it will be difficult to find.
The girls followed me into the bedroom where I proceeded to collapse the pack-n-play.I have one at home and they are SO convenient, easy to put up and take down.At least mine is.This one was a bear.I re-read the directions and tried again, succeeding only in getting it halfway folded.It was getting close to check out time, the girls were getting hungry and I was getting quite frustrated.After a few minutes, Emily piped up:“Grandma, do you know what my mommy does when she’s frust-erated?”“No, Emily, tell me.”“She just tries and tries 100 times until she gets it.That’s what you have to do.”Indeed.I thanked her, calmed down and tried again.But time won out, and I ended up cramming the ¾ folded contraption unbagged on top of the luggage on our cart.It would have to do.
The next challenge was how to safely maneuver the loaded cart and Wrong Way Molly out the door, into the elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the car with only a 4 yr old to help me.But then, Emily is no average 4 yr old – she stepped up into a leadership role.While she held the heavy room door open, I held Molly firmly on one hip and with my free hand guided the cart out into the hallway, pocketing a room key at the last minute just in case I’d missed something.Emily was our line leader, steering the cart and singing the whole way as I pushed from behind.She pushed the elevator button, and when it opened I told her to wait in the hallway until I could position the cart inside the cab.She did, but it took me a long time to get the cart in.As I was just about to tell her to step in, the doors closed, leaving a stranded Emily in the hallway with her Grandma & sister inside the elevator!Thankfully I found the “open” button quickly.The doors opened and I could see on Emily’s face it was almost panic time.She ran in and got right by my side – that was too close a call.The thought of her left alone up there if I hadn’t been able to stop the elevator in time unnerved me.I clasped her hand tightly and when we arrived at the ground floor we managed to get the cart and us out all together.
Feeling relieved, we started down the hallway.Molly began to fuss and I reached for her bottle.It was not in her hand or the diaper bag.Yikes!! THAT was one item we had to have and quickly.Emily and I looked up and down the hallway but no bottle in sight.Slowly I realized she must have dropped it on the way or thrown it somewhere in the room.
Talk about a dilemma.I wasn’t about to make that trip up to the room again with the kids and cart, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Emily with our cart to go look for the bottle.There was only 1 option.I said a prayer of protection for the cart, took Emily’s hand and said, “Let’s go find Molly’s bottle.”Emily was concerned about our things and what if they were gone when we got back.So was I, but we agreed God would have to take care of it.
Back down the hall, push the elevator button, back to the 3rd floor, down the hall to Room 327.Thank you God for the room key in my pocket!We entered the room and began the search.After a frantic few minutes I spotted the bottle down in an empty brown shopping bag right where Molly had thrown it, probably while I was wrestling the pack-n-play, too busy to notice.
One final look around and then we were off – this time with bottle clutched in Molly’s hand.Down the hall, into the elevator, push the buttons, spilled out onto the 1st floor and down that hall.Was the cart sill there?YES!Thank you God!As we started pushing an angel disguised as a building maintenance man rounded the corner and offered to help.We gladly accepted, and in moments we were safely outside.We thanked Mr. Martinez and I assessed the situation.My car was 4 spaces over from the ramp we’d have to use.It was almost on a hot June day and I was sweating already.I decided to have Emily stand by the cart at the sidewalk’s edge, and more importantly in the shade.I instructed her not to move, to stay by the cart and watch me as I deposited Molly in the car and moved it closer so we could load it.She assured me she wouldn’t move and I knew I could keep my eye on her.I left her holding a gift bag with brightly colored tissue stretching up out of the top.
I unlocked the car and started the AC.Then around to the back to secure Molly in her car seat.Back in the driver seat I adjusted the air vents and pressed “max”.With the car in reverse I turned to look over my right shoulder before backing out and did a double take as I saw our cart, packed to the gills, speeding across the parking lot by itself!Holy Hawks!!Where was Emily?What if she ran after it??
I rammed the gearshift into park, flung the door open and heard, “Grandma, Grandma!”I ran over to Emily, standing exactly where I’d left her, bag in hand, a totally bewildered expression on her face.“Emily, are you OK?Good girl for NOT running into the parking lot.What happened?”“Well, I was going to hang the bag on a hook on the cart but I never got to because the cart just rolled away!”Looking to the direction she was pointing, I saw our Rollaway Cart.Yes, that was definitely ours:3 suitcases, pillows, a Cinderella sleeping bag, Bear & Mouse hanging on for dear life, bag of groceries, laptop bag, diaper bag, gift bags, & cpap bags hanging from hooks on the side topped off with Grandpa’s wet swim trunks spread over the top bars to dry.Totally a Beverly Hillbillies look.I looked back at Emily, waiting expectantly to see how I would react.She didn’t know if she should be scared, worried, laugh or prepare for rebuke.All of a sudden, I was done.Toast.The scare of Emily almost stranded alone on the 3rd floor, anxiety over leaving the cart unattended, frantic search for Molly’s bottle, wrestling with the #$&(^$#)@ pack-n-play, and now the Rollaway Cart, stopped by a curb, openly displaying the guts of our hotel stay for all to see, but amazingly intact.I just lost it.I started to laugh.And I kept laughing, big belly laughs, hysterical double-you-over laughter that caused laugh-tears to roll down my cheeks.Emily started to laugh too.
So there we were.Laughing uncontrollably in a Hyatt hotel parking lot at high noon on a hot summer day with my baby granddaughter unattended in my car running with the AC full blast and door wide open, halfway backed out of the parking space, and our rollaway bellman cart illegally parked catty-wampus next to a curb in the middle of the hotel parking lot.
It was probably only a minute, but it seemed like forever before I could start to stop laughing.Actually, Emily and I are still laughing about the Rollaway Cart, but that day we were able to get it under control enough to pack the car and drive to their new house where Mom & Dad awaited their girls.Still chuckling, I gathered myself and got us back on track.Telling Emily to use the sidewalk to go to the car to check on Molly, I headed over to the Rollaway Cart and hauled it back to where Emily was faithfully waiting.Molly was happily drinking her milk, unaware of our hair-raising adventures.As I strapped Emily in we looked at each other and started laughing again.The entire rest of the day it went like that.We’d be going about our business and exchange a glance and start laughing all over again.At supper Emily said, “I’m still laughing about the Rollaway Cart!” so we told the story again to Mom and Dad.Weeks later, she came to visit me at work and as we lunched with co-workers she would say to each new person who entered the room, “Let me tell you about the Rollaway Cart……”
