No matter how hard you try to prepare yourself for the impending doom reality of living in an empty nest, it will still make you feel blindsided when it happens. At least it did for me. And this is true even though Hubs and I tried very hard to prepare ourselves. We talked about it, joked about it, and tried to envision what our lives would be like when the last of our precious ones left the nest. We had nothing on which to base our stupidity theories other than a desperate attempt to prepare for…get ready for…come to terms with… the reality that would be ours. We entertained thoughts of just the two of us going to the movies which would mean taking out only a small loan as opposed to a second mortgage when taking the entire family. We envisioned long walks on the beach without having sand thrown on us or keeping a watchful eye on precious ones in the water. We considered a bit of traveling without having to entertain the girls or break up fights or answer the age old question of, “Are we there yet?” FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES. We anticipated quiet and calm days and nights without interruption from a frightened or sad or energetic child. We dreamed of room renovations and a house that, once it was cleaned up, stayed that way (OK, that last one was just mine and it really hasn’t worked out just that way---there is still a man living here after all). We talked about having our own agendas again instead of having every minute dictated by our daughters’ schedules. Yes, we considered, thought, shared, discussed and, we thought, prepared ourselves nicely. Even so, when the reality of an empty nest hit, it hit hard. And EVERYTHING stopped. EVERYTHING. And I realized that what an empty nest left me was alone.
We are now in our second year of our empty nest situation and it is BORING. Oh, we started out with a bang! There was a lot of yard work that had been neglected the whole time we were raising our girls (22 years worth) and we put in a garden (which is a constant reminder of the fact that I do NOT have a green thumb but also of my persistence and determination as I refuse to give up and quit) and we got the puppy (Hubs and the girls bought him for me for Mother’s Day in an effort to placate my dread of the, at that time, soon-to-be empty nest and Tucker really is the best gift I have ever received!). I caught up, somewhat, on scrapbooking those mountains of photos that I never had the time to deal with while the girls were growing up (which took me down memory lane causing me to miss the girls being little.). I worked on changing our daily diet to a healthier one and began exercising (which started out GREAT as I lost 83 pounds…and then proceeded to put back on 17 of those and now am having to try again.). I rearranged rooms, made a study, purged the attic (finding all those American Girl dolls and accessories, stuffed animals, clothes--all of which reminded me of the great time we had when the girls were growing up—and still remain in the attic.).
And now? Now I am out of energy. The drive has died down. I’m lacking in motivation. I went into it full force (as I always do) and ran out of juice. And this is where the reality of the situation has really hit hard. Not only do I not know what to do with myself, I’m not fun to hang out with. It’s true. I am a boring person. Hubs still goes to his job every day and has to deal with his siblings who are….um…let’s just say, troubled, while I sit here and...SIT. As a SAHM, there was really no time to sit still. Even at night my ‘mommy brain’ had a section that stayed alert for even the slightest out of place sound. While the girls were at school, time did not slow down and neither did I. I was up at that school volunteering in the office and classrooms (our PTA was phenomenal, BTW). During the summers, we hit the beach or a park every day. Even through high school, the busy-ness continued. There is a different sort of busy now. The kind that you can complete in a matter of a few hours (even the volunteering only takes a couple of hours each week) and then find yourself left with TIME. Alone time. Solitary confinement dudes.
All is not lost, however, as I do see where all I really have to do is get up off my pity pot and DO something. You know how you take a piece of paper and crinkle it up and, as it sits there, it begins to open back up? Well, that’s how I am viewing the different stages of my life. The empty nest phase has crinkled me up into a tight ball, but I’m opening back up. And, when I’m fully opened, I will embrace this empty nest of ours. I will remember fondly, without a desire to go back, all those fulfilling years of raising our wonderful daughters. I will find that elusive green thumb and tend a bountiful garden. I will continue on my journey to a healthier lifestyle. I will leave those little reminders in the attic, not for lamenting but for future grandchildren. And you know what will happen at that point- when I’m all opened back up…well adjusted...discovered who I am in this empty nest world. From what I hear, that’s when the kids will come back. With their kids. And their husbands. And their dogs. And I will be crinkled up once again as I open and learn how to have grown children and grandchildren in the house.
Hmmm.....solitary confinement isn't sounding all that bad anymore.
It's day two of NaBloPoMo. Our instructions were to write a post using the words: placate, boring, solitary, crinkle and juice. The theme for the month is "In a word." HEY! It's never too late to join in! Just follow the link or click on the button below and sign up!
It's actually on like Wii Sports but, it IS on. Oh yes indeed. It's ON. When our daughters and BestSonInLawEVER so generously gave us the RED Wii for Christmas (follow the link for part 1 of the story), I just bet they had no idea as to the troubleextreme level of competition excessive fun that was to be unleashed. OR, maybe they did.
With the increase in testosterone in the house over New Year's weekend came a plethora of Wii challenges. Challenges in golf, tennis, baseball and BOWLING. Surprisingly-- and you may want to sit down for this if you aren't already-- all THREE remotes were working just fine. That's right. Three men in the house--Dad, Hubs, BestSonInLawEVER --and the remotes were fully and properly functional. It was the game itself, this time, that was hindering those much coveted high scores. Mind you, they all stuck together. Whenever one threw a ball in, say, bowling, and didn't get a strike, the other two utterly foolish people wonderfully funny men would say something like,
"I really thought you had it that time."
"It looked to me like that should have been a strike."
"I know. I threw it just right."
A small discussion would ensue as to the technique of the throw and the next fool fellow would step up for his turn.
It was fun, I must admit, listening to these grown men (31, 56, 75--proof positive that it spans generations) carry on so about how "the game wouldn't let that pin fall down because it really should have gone down that time." The more estrogen minded of us snickered while playing Farkle and Banana Grams. Until Sunday...when BestSonInLawEVER threw down the gauntlet on (cue the doom music) ME.
Things had been going along just fine. Dad, Hubs and BestSonInLawEVER were playing Wii Bowling (again--I think in an attempt to figure out what the problem was with the game) and the rest of us were chuckling at their stupidity...again watching the game when BestSonInLawEVER threw a horrible ball that left several pins still standing. I made a comment: "Whoa. Who threw THAT?" followed by what might be construed as a snicker of sorts.
BestSonInLawEVER: "Nobody's business is who threw that."
Dad: "Who asked that anyway?"
BestSonInLawEVER: "That was from the peanut gallery over there."
Hubs: "Yeah, that's what it sounded like." (He's really quite brave when there are witnesses around)
Me: (to self) "Oh REALLY?"
BestSonInLawEVER: "Don't stand over there commenting if you aren't willing to get in the game."
Me: "Bring it on...Dude."
Now, the following events were not pretty. At least, not if you were Dad, Hubs OR BestSonInLawEVER. While the game continued to thwart their attempts at winning the game, it had no negative effect on my score. I threw strike after strike and spare after spare. And the more strikes and spares I threw, the more unhappy the testosterone plagued competitors became. My final score was not tremendous (200) but it was quite enough and then some to beat each and every one of them....badly. Side note: While playing them in the training mode where you keep getting more pins and trying to knock as many as possible down in ten turns? My score: 667. They barely broke 400.
And so, the remainder of the early afternoon, while the winner women played Farkle and Banana Grams again (without incident, I might add), the men decided that they just needed to throw like I do and each proceeded to try. We have NEVER laughed so hard in all our lives at the way they interpreted my technique. It resembled a ballet being over exaggerated tremendously by The Three Stooges. They only difference, these guys were serious.
Our lesson on that fateful Sunday afternnoon? That's right. Do NOT throw your challenge in the direction of your excessively competitive MotherInLaw. EVER.
One gift that stands out in my childhood Christmas memories as one of the best ever was the year that Santa brought me Jacques. He was the cutest, sweetest little poodle and I loved him dearly. The year was 1965. We had been to Grandmother and Granddaddy's house for Christmas Eve and were back at home--only a thirty minute drive. I had seen Santa and the reindeer flying through the sky--and it was NOT a display on someone's roof top no matter WHAT my mother says--and was in quite a rush to get into bed so he could come to our house. I don't remember whether I had trouble falling asleep or not but I do remember the sound that woke me up in the middle of the night. It was the whimper of a puppy. Thinking I was dreaming, I fell back asleep only to awaken, once again, to the same sound. I did not get excited thinking something like, "I'm getting a puppy for Christmas!" because my parents had said, "No, not this year."
Jacques and me
Christmas morning, I was up pretty early and was delighting over all the Santa joys when Dad walked in the living room with another gift. I didn't realize at first what was going on but, as soon as I did, I felt happy all the way from my head to my toes! It WAS a puppy! He was the cutest little ball of black fur and I loved him from the very first moment I saw him. At first, I couldn't decide what to name him. But my uncle suggested that, since he was a French Poodle, I should call him Jacques. And I did.
Showing off Jacques
Later in the morning, Dad's sister and her family came over--just as they always did on Christmas morning. I couldn't wait to show off my new puppy! Oh, and please check out that totally stylish leather jumper I'm sporting...Good Grief!
We had had other dogs before but Jacques was my very own. He was my best friend. We had little games we played and he would do little tricks. He loved for me to play I'm gonna get ya with him. I would slide him across the kitchen floor and he would start turning around in mid-slide trying to chase me. I would run through the house with him running behind barking. He was like a kid wanting to do this over and over again and again. Everyone loved him. He is one reason I wanted a poodle when Hubs and I thought a puppy would be a good idea to help us through our empty nest (see Step One: Get a Puppy). Tucker is half poodle and he is just as great, if not greater than Jacques was. My mom even calls our little Tucker, Jacques, all the time and, when she does get his name right she says, "Tuck-uh." She's very southern, my mother. When my brothers and I were growing up we all had different schedules. One evening, just before dinner, Mother needed to go pick up Brother T from football practice and we all went with her (an opportunity for me to drive, since I had recently acquired my driver's permit, and for brothers C and M to ride along and pretend to have heart attacks because I was in the driver's seat.). We had just set the table and put the food out but the high school was very close so we just left everything and ran out. When we came back, we had no ham on the table but we did have a very fat Jacques! He had gotten on the table and cleaned us out!
People are always wondering what happens to their pets when they pass on. I'm hoping that they are waiting for us on the other side. I'll just bet that Jacques is waiting patiently to play with Tucker and share their doggie stories of being spoiled rotten little pooches and for me to play I'm gonna get ya!
Love thoseholiday traditions of childhood as we may, they tend to change as we grow up and, when marriage and/or children become part of our lives, those traditions can really be transformed. In our family, the biggest change was simply location. We were blessed to have extended family close by and none further than 4 hours away. As our daughters grew older, it became easier for everyone to come to us--we would have had to rent a trailer to haul the six of us plus presents and 'Santa' surprises.
At the tree farm 1991
Our favorite part of the holiday season was (and still is) preparing for Christmas. The advent calendar, decorating, baking, getting the tree. Everything! We always waited until the second week of December to get our tree... until 1991. Prior to that year, we would pack the girls up and head to Hubs' family farm land where they were attempting to grow Christmas trees and either cut one down or dig it up live and replant it. But 1991 changed all of that. The FIRST tree we brought home that year was just perfect. Except that it died within five days. We undecorated it and, this time, we bought one (hurricane Hugo pretty much wiped out the tree farm and the pickins were slim). It died. WTH?! We had to buy another one. We had brought THREE trees into the house, decorated twice, undecorated once and now WE HAD TO DO IT ALL AGAIN. Way uncool. The third tree didn't last too long but we did get through Christmas. The next year, we went with an artificial tree and have used one ever since because I refuse to risk the 1991 multiple tree decorating disaster ever again! While the girls were growing up, the decorating of the Christmas tree was followed by watching the town Christmas parade--although, after the first few years, there always seemed to be at least one daughter IN the parade which meant that one of us had to walk along--that would be me.
There was, of course, the annual letter writing campaign to Santa at the North Pole (we still have every single letter--to AND from) and the making of gifts. The girls made gifts for relatives for many years including ornaments--wooden, ceramic, crab shells, corks, craft sticks, etc. But, in 1994, we made a Christmas anthology of sorts. Each daughter made up a story about Christmas, retold the birth of Jesus and 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, and answered 10 questions about Christmas. These were treasured so much more than 'store bought' gifts.
Once school was out for Christmas break (actually called Winter break) the BIG fun began. The girls and I spent hours making Christmas cookies--rolling out the dough, cutting out the shapes and getting icing and sprinkles all over the house decorating them with icing and sprinkles. Next, we made the annual gingerbread house. Which, as it turns out, is NOT THAT EASY. Oh, decorating it with the candy is a cinch. It's putting the walls up and, the granddaddy of the difficulty, the roof on top. Yep. Not that easy at all. We had to call Hubs in on this part the first couple of years as he is known to us, fondly and among other alias', Mr. Fix-It (he will say that he can't fix everything, but the women in the family know differently). The next step in the cooking/baking department was the Christmas goodies for the Christmas Eve gatherings--the ham; cheese and olive balls; sausage balls; spinach balls; fudge- butterscotch and chocolate; meatballs and little smokies; Chex Mix; cheese balls; cream cheese and pepper jelly; etc. And, in the middle of the table, the girls always insisted on a birthday cake for Jesus.
There was (and still is) the writing of the annual Christmas 'newsy' letter to be included, with the Christmas photo of the girls, inside the Christmas cards. One year, we couldn't get the picture in time to be included so I mailed the letters inside the cards but NOT a picture. We have our family reunion (this is the huge side, my mother's side) every August and I had to hear about them not getting a Christmas picture from December until the reunion in August. That Christmas, I sent them TWO pictures, one from the year before AND the one for that year. If you send something like this to your relatives, please don't ever NOT send one. You'll pay dearly for it!
Christmas pajamas 1991
Christmas Eve, especially when we hosted the gathering, was very similar to the ones when I was growing up--the family gathered, the food was nearly identical, and the excitement was abundant. The girls wore coordinating outfits handmade each year by Mimi (my mother) up until they developed their own, individual styles. Even then, they coordinated colors most of the time. We generally started out with Hubs' family for the opening of gifts followed by the Christmas Eve service at church (which changed to the midnight service as the girls got older). The night continued with the gathering of my side of the family where the girls were allowed to open another present--the Christmas pajamas that Mimi (my mother) gave them every year--she still does this! All of the evening's festivities were topped off with a good reading of Clement C. Moore's 'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS and the perfect placement of the milk and cookies. Finally, it was time to await the arrival of Santa and, to this day (and this includes BestSonInLawEver) they all sleep in the same room.
Christmas morning 1996
Christmas morning was a hullabaloo of brightly colored wrapping paper all over the place everyone talking all at the same time and the shrills of delight that only children have the ability to project at Christmas, or any other time for that matter! The sounds of laughter and toys filled the morning and stopped only for a moment while we ate Christmas dinner--traditionally like Thanksgiving until 1993 when we traded in the turkey for prime rib. Now, I prepare a Christmas brunch instead for any and everyone who wants to join us. Changes in our family do not usually go over well but everyone seems to enjoy Christmas brunch.
After the college feeding freenzy
And now? Now we have an empty nest and the first year of one daughter not being here for Christmas. Breezy and BestSonInLawEVER will be at their home but will join us for New Year's Eve. We have added the FIRST ANNUAL EMPTY NEST CHRISTMAS OYSTER ROAST to the festivities. Everything else should pretty much remain close to the tradition--including those handmade gifts (which we are all making for one another this year). It will be an adjustment, just as Thanksgivingwas without Deanie (DD2), not having all our daughters with us. And, the married lovelies are going to miss out on their Christmas Eve pajamas! But, this is what happens when you successfully raise your kids to go out and make lives for themselves. We have discovered that, sometimes, you can pick up an extra kid or two when your college daughters bring some of their friends over to help decorate--in exchange for a free feeding frenzy home cooked meal.
It's going to be a grand Christmas this year with family and friends. I'm sure of it! And, with the decorating almost complete, I can see that the Christmas spirit is beginning to overflow because Hubs has been in the middle of everything singing Christmas songs and quoting Christmas movies (and he does it in such an obnoxious manner--no matter, it's the holiday season!). Yep, it's gonna be a grand Christmas!
I'm linking up with Follow Friday 40 and Over this week at Java's Never Growing Old!
College can be considered a sort of transition from home to ALMOST the real world. The last stop before the real world experience hits you in the face like a brick phase of life begins, if you will. It can also be considered a transition before the empty nest sucks phase of life becomes permanent. The kids are gone but they still come home for the holidays and, if you are lucky, summer. College provides parents with four years (unless, of course, one's child is on the 7 year plan) in which to become accustomed to not having the child at home every day, quite possibly making the permanence of the after college move-out less of a shock.
Hubs and I are very fortunate in that our two youngest daughters chose the College of Charleston because it only takes us 15 minutes from our house to theirs and, because it gives us oppotunities to attend any special events they may be involved in. Like the Wind Ensemble concert or this afternoon's event. Hubs took off work early, we picked up Birdie at their house and went to DoodleBug's African Dance performance. I swear I don't remember any of my college classes--undergrad OR grad--being as much fun as the African Dance class that DoodleBug took this semester. Their end of semester performance was GREAT! So, without further ado, here they are:
That's our DoodleBug in the center. Her BoyToy on the left.
A group of young ladies whose parents are in transition also.
DoodleBug after colliding with another dancer.
Students are usually happier about the transition years than their parents.
My Doodle My Bug
If I tried that I would bust my youknowwhat!
Hi Mom, Dad!
Wait, did she just collide with another dancer?
That move looks more like the twist than African dance.
All of the kids did a fantastic job!
I was proud of them whether they were mine or not.
Folks who live in our area are very accustomed to something called HURRICANE SEASON. It begins on June 1st and ends November 30th every year. It's not something that we fret over but we do stay stocked with the necessary items should the need arise such as flashlights, batteries, fresh water, canned food, lanterns, etc. One of the things I am very grateful for is the fact that the need rarely arises. And one of the main reasons for this gratefulness stems from September 21, 1989.
His name was HUGO and he came through here with the intent of making his presence known LOUD AND CLEAR. He also left a wake of destruction and devastation in his path that left people in shock. Hubs and I packed up and took our daughters (we only had three of them at the time) to my grandmother's house in the upstate--3 hours north of here--where a Hickory Nut tree fell on the house. No one was hurt and we believe it was because Grandmother and Granddaddy's house was built back when they constructed houses the right way without skimping on materials. That tree barely cracked a rafter or two. Amazing. The NOISE it made, on the other hand, scared all of us half to death! Hubs and I looked out the door at one point and watched huge pine trees swaying back and forth like catapults in 65 mph winds. Meanwhile, 3 hours south, the low-country was being beat to death by 135 mph winds. Our house fared quite well. The tree that fell did so across the back yard and the wind merely took off some shingles from the roof. At the time, my mother and Hubs' parents lived on Sullivan's Island- one of the barrier islands around the Charleston area. The only way onto the island in 1989 was the Ben Sawyer bridge--a swing span bridge- that someone did not secure and one end of it ended up in the water. We had to take a boat to get over there and survey the damage. My in-laws fared pretty well, mostly loosing insignificant things. My mother however, lost everything due to an 8.5 foot water level in her house. Interestingly, her refrigerator floated on it's back and our daughters' art work on the front was untouched. Many, many houses, unfortunately, ended up looking more like the ones in the following pictures and, our church at the time, which was completed flattened--we ended up putting up a HUGE yellow and white striped circus-like tent and having church in it until the new building was finished.
This house was picked up and dropped in the middle of the road by the winds.
Christmas 1989, lighting the Advent Wreath in our Church Tent
As December approached and our thoughts turned to the Christmas season, Hubs asked what I wanted for Christmas. I told him that I wanted SNOW. And we got it. We got a lot of it! AND, to this day, if you ask our daughters what their daddy got me for Christmas that year, they will reply: "SNOW!" Even the youngest who did not arrive until 1991 knows how her dad got the snow for me that year. (No wonder they think he can do anything! Heck, so do I!).
My mother-in-law (Irene Nuite Lofton) wrote a little book of poems chronicling the months following HUGO. She titled the book: THE BROKEN BRIDGE
Here is one about the Christmas snow that year:
FORECAST
Snow predicted for tonight, if freezing temperatures hold we will have a record white Christmas.
Tonight
all is overlaid
by a white coverlet
of softly falling snow.
The scars left
by a devil storm--
rutted wounds in the driveway
dark, broken cedars in the yard,
bulwarks of rotting debris
left by shrieking wind
and rising tide,
lie newly transformed
into mysterious blue-shadowed
mounds and hillocks
of gently sloping snow.
Tomorrow,
the eve of Christmas Eve,
the children will be out
trailing laughter,
tumbling from warm indoors
into the blue-white cold
building snowmen
with icicle noses and old felt hats.
The children and the snow together
will lift our hearts.
One more, if you will indulge me. This one was written before the Christmas snow:
I WOULD HOLD BACK NOVEMBER
I am not ready
for the bustle of Christmas.
I long to have back
the days of fall.
I long to have back
our Indian summer
when sun lay golden
on the marsh
and the days were soft
with autumn.
A month of storm
has intervened
to interrupt
the gradual waning
into winter from fall.
I look at the calendar
and see winter days approach
and feel cold
creeping in at every crack.
But I still long for fall.
I would hold back the days of November.
I am not ready for December.
I have never attempted to grow flowers from seeds before so, when I got my first EVER sunflower blooms this year, I was thrilled! And, as with so very many things since entering our empty nest situation, the flowers led me down memory lane, this time, to thoughts of my grandmother who was quite a flower person. She had azaleas, gardenias, daffodils, blue bells, candy tuft, dogwoods, and countless other flowers that I have no idea as to their names, other than 'pretty'. Her yard, in spring, held the most amazing, vibrant colors of all kinds. I can remember her garden club meetings which were held in her living room where she served tiny sandwiches and cakes along with coffee in the silver coffee/tea service. I also remember how the weekends at Grandmother and Granddaddy's were so much fun. Grandmother and I went shopping at the dime store in a neighboring town and to K-Mart (Granddaddy always said we were out "rakin' around) and we would stay up late and watch old Elvis movies. Sunday mornings, we went to Sunday school followed by preachin' where we sat on the very same pew. Every Sunday. And, after lunch, we would sit on the porch and watch as Granddaddy amazed us by peeling an apple with his pocket knife keeping the peel in one long, curly piece. But holidays at Grandmother and Granddaddy's house was the most fun of all...
Easter morning was spent at church followed by a huge family dinner. Always a pork roast with very southern accompaniments such as rice and gravy, corn, deviled eggs, homemade rolls, lima beans, etc. The 4th of July was also a big celebration. Every year we had BBQ with all the fixins including a great big watermelon and home churned ice cream and fire works after dark. At Thanksgiving, Grandmother always got out the good china and the silver (she actually used the china and silver on Sundays and holidays) and served up a feast of turkey, cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole (the kind with the marshmallows on top), green beans, corn, potatoes, rice and gravy, homemade rolls (it's just NOT a southern holiday without the carbs!), broccoli casserole, cranberry sauce etc. Luckily, Granddaddy's blessings were short and sweet and eating commenced rather quickly.
All the holidays at Grandmother and Granddaddy's house were awesome but, my fondest memories of all, center around Christmas. Every single year for as long as I can remember, I went to Grandmother and Granddaddy's house to help decorate for Christmas. It all started with Granddaddy bringing home the cedar tree and cutting off the bottom so that the tree would fit in the stand and in the house. Grandmother and I would go into the attic and hand down theboxes filled with Christmas treasures: the plastic Santa face for the front door; the wreaths for the side and back doors; the floral displays made of plastic poinsettias, glass ornaments, and glitter all contained on the hidden piece of florist's styrofoam; and the ornaments-all different colors and shapes (plastic icicles, glass soldiers, balls, Santas, drums, and more in purples, reds, blues, greens, oranges, golds and silvers) to adorn the tree. The tree was slowly transformed into a colorful Christmas delight complete with a star on top. Christmas cards were taped around the perimeter of the rectangular mirror above the mantle. And Granddaddy, who went to bed early so he could get up at 4:30 each morning (a habit I think he continued from when he was a boy growing up on the farm) to go to his dry cleaning business and start the boiler for the day's work, would come into the living room and say, "Hush a little bit now." as Grandmother and I laughed in giddy delight.
The anticipation of the arrival of Christmas Eve was almost too much to bear. And, when the day finally did arrive, the procedure was pretty much routine. We arrived at Grandmother and Granddaddy's house to find the dining room table filled with homemade cakes (from scratch, no mixes) with 4 to 6 layers- coconut, pineapple, chocolate and the dreaded fruitcake (when Grandmother baked her cakes it was absolutely delightful! The house would fill up with the sweetest, warmest baking aromas and there was always just enough left in the bowl for licking.). There were cookies, fudge, and other candies- all homemade. And, just out of the oven, a ham with cloves, pineapple slices and cherries all over the surface covered with a sweet honey and mustard glaze, sliced to perfection and eaten on sandwiches with plain 'ol white bread and mustard. There was Chex Mix in Christmas containers all around the house--none of us have ever been able to reproduce Grandmother's Chex Mix (who am I kidding? We've never been able to reproduce ANY of her fabulous foods.). On the record player (this was back in the days of vinyl) would be Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Mahalia Jackson, of some of the Rat Pack helping us celebrate the season with Christmas songs. When Granddaddy walked into the living room, clad in his red shirt -sometimes plaid, sometimes solid- Luke, chapter 2, was read after which the most fun of all began---the reading of the names on the tags and the opening of the gifts-- after which the floor would be covered in brightly colored Christmas paper with the shadows of the flames from the fireplace dancing all over the room (Granddaddy had a fire in the fireplace every year whether it was cold enough outside or not.).
I learned many valuable lessons from my grandparents. Lessons that did not involve money or material things but that were taught while an apple was being peeled or a cake was being baked; while decorating a Christmas tree or sitting at the table for a family gathering; while cutting into a watermelon, building a fire, sitting in church, watching old Elvis movies on television or even by the wearing of a red shirt each year at Christmas.
Thinking back now that our nest is empty, I wonder what Grandmother and Granddaddy did when we left after the Christmas Eve festivities. I imagine it was very quiet. We have been very lucky so far in that the girls still all make it home for Christmas and they still go to bed excited about Santa's arrival (I'm NOT kidding, we are a Christmas crazy family.). But I do realize that it wasn't the time of year or the celebrations we had that made it all so memorable. It was Grandmother and Granddaddy sharing their lovethat made these memories of family gatherings, laughter, and love precious enough to last a lifetime. So, what I hope is that Hubs and I were successful in our efforts to give our daughters such memorable traditions. So memorable that they, too, will look back and remember all of our family gatherings fondly and continue passing down wonderfully memorable traditions of their own.
That's me showing Granddaddy my new doll.
Me and my parents...that white bowl on the coffee table has Grandmother's Chex Mix in it!
Even though there are plenty of things left to do around the house (finish the scrapbooks; host the Empty Nest Yard Sale; rearrange the two 'empty' bedrooms; paint the two 'empty' bedrooms; prepare for the holidays; finish cutting down the trees- wait, that's Hubs' job; finish putting up the gutters in the back--wait, that's his again; remodel the bathroom BEFORE we fall through the floor---wait, guess who's job that is; and I won't even go into the privacy fence, timing belt on my car, the front and back doors, the front porch...) I like to have something to do at night when I'm not working on household chores and projects. Thus, the birth of another hobby---knitting or, as I like to call it, the most frustrating thing I've ever attempted.
I have taken up knitting before when the girls were still at home because someone said that when she took up knitting, she lost weight. I knitted scarves (some of them are in the photo above). I chose scarves because they were easy (certainly NOT because we need scarves down here in the lowcountry) and I just knitted them using what I called knitting (apparently the actual name of the stitch is 'garter stitch'. Who knew?) and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, the weight loss part did not work for me. I simply learned how to stop knitting, put something in my mouth, and start the knitting again--sort of like knitknitknit, pop something in mouth, knitknitknit, etc. Due to the time constraints of having four daughters who were all very involved in different activities coupled with the fact that I was not very good at it, the kitting hobby did not last very long (the popping something in my mouth hobby is still going strong--one doesn't need much time for that one.). Now, however, I have AMPLE time. Unfortunately, the level of my ability with this particular hobby has, basically, remained the same. In other words, I'M STILL NOT VERY GOOD AT KNITTING! I have a hard time choosing the correct yarn (this includes color, yarn weight, and worsted...WTH???), needle size, types of needles (and PLEASE do NOT talk to me about those needles that are connected by that thin plastic thingy), and even deciding what to knit. Then there are the patterns (and, do NOT fall for the ones that are marked EASY because they ARE JUST NOT THAT EASY), and the plethora of STITCHES. It's like a Knitting Hell! Let me just add right here that any of you out there who knit and are good at it--You are amazing and I covet your creativity and ability! If you are at all wondering why I have not quit, my answer is this: I have no idea. I should, yet I persist (maybe it's because, with a competitive nature such as mine, I compete with myself...and inanimate objects.).
I actually did find a pattern for a baby blanket that I really liked (I'm still hoping for those grands) and thought I could handle. It is the cutest thing! It has 6 inch rows and each row has 4 hearts across it. So I started. I was able to pull up online tutorials for stitches that were unfamiliar to me. The pattern repeated itself after 24 rows so I made 24 note cards that had the row number at the top and the pattern of stitches underneath (because I can't remember which row I'm on or keep count of the stitches without the cards) and I got all the way through half of the FOURTH heart row (that's about 20 inches long) before I messed up or, before I realized I had messed up. Somewhere. And I didn't know where because another thing I can't do is tell where a mistake is, take the knitting out to that point and begin from there. Heart shaped baby blanket, therefore, was NOT completed.
FINALLY, I found a relatively easy pattern for a baby blanket (and this time I was doing it for Hubs' cousin and his wife who were expecting) that I thought I would be able to handle (maybe I was just too ambitious with the heart one.). I made some mistakes with this one too, but it's the kind of pattern where it doesn't show up too bad...or else I was simply NOT going to look hard enough to see the mistakes. Cousin L and wife L loved it! AND I knitted a little cap to match (it's right there on the left.). A project completed!
Feeling pretty darn good about myself from the baby blanket, I decided to make each daughter and the most wonderful son-in-law EVER an afghan for Christmas. How's it going? I'm not even a third of the way finished with the first one.
Do people appreciate good intentions as Christmas gifts?
Oh, and I AM going to start that darn heart shaped blanket again one day, and I WILL finish it! I'm almost sure of it!
After a little over year of our empty nest, I have come to realize that there are positives as well as negatives to having the house back.
Here are the top 10:
1. The fact that there are fewer people here to cook for is a positive. On the other hand, I cannot for the life of me learn how to cook for only two people! Which automatically leads to another negative, we end up eating all that 'extra' food.
2. With fewer interruptions, I have more patience time to experiment with new recipes or with some that I have wanted to try but didn't have the patience time before the nest became empty. The negative being that, when I do try these recipes, there's no one to eat it and, you guessed it, we end up eating all the 'extra' food.
3. It's is nice and quiet around here now so I can watch a movie or just a sitcom without interruption. The down side? It's too dang quiet around here and I end up watching the stupid television instead of motivating and getting things done around here, which leads me to number 4--.
4. I have tons of 'free' time to get things done around here. The negative? I have learned that I prefer to use all this 'free' time to develop or refine hobbies and I GET NOTHING DONE AROUND HERE!
5. There is LESS cleaning up to be done. I'm kidding...there IS a man living here.
6. All the sweets brought into the house are not gone in one 24 hour period. Because it takes me two days instead of one AND there is NO ONE to blame for eating the missing sweets--if HE didn't do it, we both know who did and, if we didn't know, my hips would tell on me.
7. I have discovered the wonderful world of blogging and met some of the nicest women. Bad news is- I spend too much time on the computer reading their blogs or writing mine that I GET NOTHING DONE AROUND HERE.
8. When the weekend rolls around, we have no obligations to attend the events that once took up every weekend which means time to get some major projects started/completed. Down side? Hubs is not good at starting OR completing projects so NOTHING IS GETTING DONE AROUND HERE.
9. We were finally able to purge the attic! Unfortunately, between me not being able to part with the 'memories' and all 4 daughters not wanting to give up certain childhood memories, THE ATTIC IS STILL FULL!
10. The two of us have all the time to ourselves. The negative: Hubs is underfoot EVERY SINGLE MINUTE THAT HE IS NOT AT WORK! God help me when retirement comes around!
If we have learned NOTHING else during our 27 years together, Hubs and I have learned this: Try your BEST to see the humor in as many situations as possible. Laughter has been an integral part of our family. It has made life easier in some situations; it has lightened up sad days and softened hard ones; it has helped us make those teaching moments to our daughters understandable and lasting; it has helped us look at life in a more positive manner; it has kept us from self-importance... When we all look back over the last quarter of a century we tend to see good times that we shared and the fun all topped off with plenty of laughter!
Being a transplant to the low-country of SC for 31 years is still not long enough to be called a ‘benyeh.’ If I stay until I’m dead I’ll probably go a ‘comeyeh’ since I am, originally, ‘from off’ (which is the upstate but, rules you know). By day I take care of my sweet little granddaughter, Baby M and do all those things I did when I was a SAHM raising four daughters which has translated to, ‘by day, I am exhausted.’ By night I blog, blog, blog, and blog some more or I sleep, depending on my level of exhaustion (do they still make Geritol?). I have a very unhealthy addiction to sweets (nearly any kind will do) and all comfort foods not covered under the ‘sweets’ category. I’m known for speaking my mind so, if you don’t want to know, don’t ask me. I love to find the humor in my empty nest life. I live life hard and smack into that brick wall almost daily because I’ve always had to learn the hard way. Why change now? I’m so glad you’ve come to laugh with me as I do this middle age, empty nest thing like a BOSS!
