You've Gotta Have a Villiage

Because here's the thing, y'all. Let me let you in on a little secret: this parenting gig is no joke... And there's no manual. You need a hope, a prayer and a Villiage. My Momma Villiage saves my rear all of the time. They are a group of beautiful faces and even more lovely hearts. They come bathe your kid when you are literally crawling across the floor over piles of (clean, thankfully) laundry because you are clumsy and broke your toes. They drop off a kind note and a mani/pedi gift certificate when the volunteer position you took on becomes a full time job. They send a funny text message that makes you laugh and cry at the same time, because you're knee deep in kid and dog puke and you can't have a drink because it is only 9 am. You need a Villiage. When your kid wakes up with newly discovered sensory issues and won't wear underwear, you need a Villiage. When your kid seems to be having an allergic reaction to a chicken and you can't administer an antihistamine while holding your other goldfish toting baby, you need a Villiage. When it all just becomes too much, you need a Villiage. When no one else wants to hold Merv the Rooster and his five inch claws, you need a Villiage. It's good to sit back and know that we are all in this together. That no matter what, we are a Villiage. xxoo

i miss her.

Sometimes I miss her so much I can taste it. Like every part of me misses her so much that my senses overload and I get dizzy and can taste the ache of wanting her here. I miss her all of the time, but every once in awhile I miss her that much. It's usually in the quiet times, like now, when I'm slumber partying with my tiny girl and I just want her to know how funny and smart and fun and lovely her granddaughter is. Because I know they would've adored each other.  

Once I went and read her charts from MD Anderson, and over and over it was written that the patient was not afraid of dying. That her biggest regret was knowing her grandchild would never know her. So she had to keep trying. Experiment after trial after experiment until there was nothing left to try. I threw the charts away. 

Here's a neat thing about being a grandparent. In a way you get a second chance. She wasn't the perfect parent, but I know she loved me. And I know, even without saying, that she deserved her do over. She would have made an amazing grandmother. 

Right now I can taste it. I miss her so very much. And why do I share something like this? Because it keeps her real. Because I know that there are friends out there who absolutely get it and they need to hear a 'me too'. That most days you are ok, but some days you are not- even after two years. And that's ok too. 

Register for the Fine China

In October, my husband and I will celebrate nine years of marriage. October 29 to be exact. October 29 happens to also be my dad's birthday and the day my mom died. It's a weird, feely, don't really know what to do with it kind of day. 

My mom was a floater, a nomad, an afraid to put down roots kind of gal. I'm pretty sure this is why I am the complete opposite. I crave what some see as mundane. I like having dinner on the table for my family. I like working in the garden on Saturdays. I try to nurture my relationships- many of my friends have been in my life since I was a girl, and I try to love more recently found friends with the same appreciation. I love routine, traditions, roots. 

Ten years ago, when many of my friends were getting married, we started wedding gift registries- toaster, the go to Kitchenaid Mixer, a random cheese board for ALL of the cheeses we so often snack on, fine china and crystal goblets... By the time the blessed day rolled around, the we could totally host High Tea for all of our buddies. Thousands of dollars worth of fine dinner plates, bread plates, saucers and gravy boats. That most of us will probably leave in the boxes or use once a year at Thanksgiving. 

Fast forward to this morning. My 4 year old daughter was watching me dust the china and crystal... And she asked what it was... And I got to tell her stories about mommy and daddy's wedding and stories about the people we love who gifted these things to us. And my heart was full, because in these saucers and goblets are the stories of US. 

One day I will give it all to her, and I hope she feels her roots in them wherever she may be in life. If something were to happen, and it were all gone, no problem. I get it. They are things. But for now, as a girl who wasn't  given many opportunities to plant roots, I'm so very glad I registered for the Fine China.