Two Steps Forward...

My older boys came over today. They actually helped around the house. One trimmed the yard... well, half of it. The other pried carpet tack strips off the floor. What an enjoyable afternoon I had. My oldest was outside most of the time he was here, but I had the honor of driving him to work, spending 15 minutes in the car, talking about his learning to drive. How nice to have a good conversation, which ended with an, "I love you, mom." I actually enjoyed and afternoon of sanding woodwork (which I hate) in the same room with my middle son. We talked calmly about school, etc. Nothing earth-shattering. We just chatted. He let me give him a hug before he left. He said, "I love you." Unfortunately, when I stopped at the store later, I discovered that $10 was missing from my wallet. Thought I was losing my memory with all the stress. Then I found out that the middle one was seen putting my wallet back in my purse. How disappointing.

Honest Words

My middle son called today. He's bored and broke, and wants to do something this weekend. He just has no money. "I think I'm going to sell my camera to get some spending money." "Really? What for? What do you want money for?" The explanation came that having no money all summer meant not having the ability to go hang out with friends. This is the last weekend before school starts. He'd like to go to a movie. "Would you like me to take some money for a movie to you? I could do that."

It's odd how I'm not the enemy when he needs something. It's odd how I am the enemy when I want something. I am a mother though. I do love him. I took him the money. I am tired of seeing my son so sad and angry. Let him have a good night tonight. Let him have fun.

As I handed him the money I said, "Please spend it on a movie, not drugs or alcohol." "Why do you say that?' he asked. Our eyes met and locked. We both know the answer to that. I just looked deep into him and said," I love you." He met my gaze and looked into my heart, "I love you, too," I heard and saw in his eyes. I haven't seen that look in a very long time. It was a very long two seconds while we exposed our love. And then we broke our gaze. I don't want to over do my affection. He'd have to get nasty again to break the spell. Still.... he can't take the love I saw, back. He exposed the truth and I have seen it.

I tuck his love in my heart for safe-keeping.

Energy

Isn't it odd that manual labor drains my brain? Physical exhaustion exhausts my mind. I haven't written in awhile, I know. There's just so much activity, I'm too tired to think. Wish that weren't the case. I miss writing. Would much rather write than paint my house.

Doves Call

Doves call outside my window. "Come. Be melancholy with us. Settle your mind and your heart in the cool of our home." The sun shines through the branches of pecan, and maple, on the expanse of "southern" lawn. Peace reigns in this small oasis from the traffic slipping by on the the street beyond. The world moves on. People head to the grocery store, or perhaps the doctors' offices a few blocks from here. Their focus on their day fails to penetrate the calm of the green life beside them. Car engines overwhelm the doves' coos to the drivers. "Come, rest awhile. Let the day move on without you."

He Wants Her

He wants her, but she doesn't want him. She wants a different him, who doesn't want her. He wants his own her, but she wants no one. Or does she? She wants a convenient him, who doesn't need anything in return. And he wants a new her or maybe not. They all want to be happy, with someone or without. It's amazing that anyone wants the one who wants in return. It's amazing that any two get together.

Life is very messy!

Cleaning

I started cleaning my boys' bedrooms out today. It works really well to do that when no one is home to demand that we keep that old broken toy. You know the one... the "favorite" that''s been collecting dust for a year, untouched until you pick it up to put it in the trash sack. Then it's, "My favorite! You can't throw that away!" Threw away a whole garbage full of broken "favorites," today. It always feels good to clean out the closets and cabinets. At least that's how I feel when I'm done. Never feel that way before I start. Cleaning is absolutely, my most dreaded chore. Give me laundry. Give me a lawn to mow. Give me anything except the cleaning! Yuck!

Today's cleaning was even harder than I expected. I discovered how much I am still grieving my older boys', when I walked into their room to clean out all the junk left behind when they moved out. I couldn't figure out why I was feeling so sad, and then I realized, how much I really miss them. I felt like a parent whose children have died and they just close the door to the room and leave it as is. That's what I'd done. Today was a sad day. A day of facing regrets about my parenting, a day of regrets about what my boys have turned out to be. I day of wishing I hadn't stayed married for so many years, wishing I had protected them from their father's anger, wishing I had given more or given less... whatever it would have taken to get a different result.

One piece of trash at a time. One dirty sock at a time. I pick up one thing and leave the room with it. Only in entering and exiting a lot, do I gain the strength to keep cleaning. It all turns out okay. I'm not done. yet, but my will power is tired. At least I got the majority of it straightened.
All of this writing just to say, "I miss my boys!" They may be jerks. They may treat me badly. They may be a pain in the ass, but they're my pain in the ass. I cared for them from birth until April. Now they are gone. Now they stay away.

I miss them!

The Sewing Machine

When I was young, my mother was "of course," a stay at home mother and home maker. Being the mother of 4 girls, two of whom were twins, was a very busy and thankless job. One of the many things my mother did, which we never appreciated until now, was to sew our clothes. My twin and I had to have matching outfits, and my older sisters had to coordinate with the "twins," clothes. Especially for special occasions like "Mother's Day." How ironic that she had tons of work to do to celebrate her own celebration. My mother had a 1958 black Singer sewing machine. She could sew the world brand new clothes on that thing! We weren't allowed to bother her while she sewed. I remember though, the sound of that old sewing machine. The whir of the motor and the clack of the pressure foot meant Mom was sewing. Periodically she'd have us stand still while she fitted and pinned. Most of the time, though, you could just hear the hum of that machine reverberate through the house. I think my mother liked to sew. She always enjoyed creating things. When my mother sewed, the world was a peace. The house grew calm. We kids gathered around her with books to read or color in. I remember being sprawled out on the floor beside her, reading the "Childcraft," nursery rhyme book. That book was good for a whole day of reading, so as long as she sewed, I was content to lie there beside her.

To this day, the sound of a sewing machine brings peace to my soul. Perhaps they should put that sound in those sleep sound machines. I wrote about that sound on Facebook. A couple of people wrote that their hearts respond like mine. Most of the women, however, wrote that they feel frustration and failure when they hear that motor hum. For them, a sewing machine reminds them of their not quite measuring up to the maternal standard of our mothers. In our generation, every mother sewed. Every mother made matching clothes for the children on holidays. All the children hated the clothes! It was a game we played with each other, a dance of responsibilities and declarations of independence. "Look what I made for you!" "I want 'store-bought,' clothes!" These two declarations rang out in almost every middle class home on the cul-de-sac the week before a holiday.

And yet, the soft purr of the sewing machine floods me with sweet memories... when Mom happily took care of our world. There was nothing to fear. Peace reigned in our lives... at least for a few hours.