Sunday Scribblings: Safe

I am a bonafide germ-a-phobe.

Okay, maybe not the real deal, but I do have anti-bacterial gel in almost every room of the house.  When I have guests, there is usually a bottle sitting beside snacks on the coffee table.

Sickness makes me feel unsafe.  I think it's the whole out-of-control factor.  No, I'm not a control freak.  *the uncontrolled laughter is coming from my family*  But perhaps I do have the unproved notion that I can stop sickness.  Well, I think I could.  If only all the other crazy souls out there WOULD STAY HOME AND NOT GO OUT WITH A FEVER!!  OR A HACKING COUGH!  OR A STOMACH-ACHE!!

Enter this weekend.

A friend from out of the country came to visit.  We haven't seen her for eight years.  We ate out at a fun restaurant.  Late that night my eldest daughter got violently sick with food poisoning.

At least we THOUGHT it was food poisoning.

She was half-finished with a cake commissioned for the grand party to welcome back out-of-the-country-friend.  After finishing with her violent night of sickness, she rested half the day then finished the cake for the party while alternating standing, sitting and laying down.  That night we went to the party.  Everyone raved about the beauty of the cake.

Everyone ate the cake.

Many are now sick with what turned out to be a virus.

How ironic is it that the germaphobe Mom did not see this coming?  So, although it pains me to admit it: no amount of anti-bacterial gel can keep you safe from a virus.

And I suppose I cannot be mad at any fever-going, hacking, stomach-ache person walking the streets ever again.

The Letter Project

At the end of December, I decided to write one letter per day to a friend away from home for a month.

It's been years since I've written letters.  Nowadays, it's email, or text.  My friend didn't have phone OR computer.  So I set out to go back in time and write--the old fashioned way, snail mail.  I was surprised to find I loved the challenge.

I wrote her a letter at lunch.  Polished and sent it off by 4:00.  Then when my kids were doing homework, I decorated my envelope for the next day.

My friend is coming home today so my project is over.  But writing to her was such a stretch from my daily writing that I've decided to continue sending letters to someone once a week. Daily was a bit consuming, but weekly would be more manageable.

This project helped me by letting me see my daily activities through the lens of antidotes and insight I could share.  It also opened my eyes to the little details I so often skim; moments that make us who we are. (She couldn't write me back, so it was a one-sided conversation; not too different from a blog post)

This made me wonder if any of my friends in Bloggiland would like to join me on this venture. I'm thinking I will send a letter off by Wednesday of each week and then blog about what I wrote/sent/painted OR who I chose to send to on Thursdays. If you would like to join me and want to blog about it, I would add a link to your post.  If you need help deciding on a person to send to, I could post different types of people each week to give you a prompt (nursing home resident, teacher, etc.).

How about it?  Anyone want to join?

Inspiration Friday: Dreamgirl

I've been soaking up a good book on a cold day wrapped in a fleece blanket.  To me,  it can't get much better than this. ( I know, I have small expectations)  Days like this make me consider my dreams; to write and publish a book is top on the list.  But more than that to change the world, to touch someone with what I say.


What are your dreams today?

Thankful Thursday

Last night, it sleeted and snowed long enough to give us a good covering this morning.  And I am thankful because today is our first snow day of the year!!!  My kids are home wrapped in blankets.  I'm loving the slow, long morning and looking forward to board games, books, hot chocolate and snuggles.

What are you thankful for today?

Invisible

My daughter didn't want me aboard the party bus.  The one rented for her sixteenth birthday party.  We had other chaperons so it shouldn't have bothered me.

But it did.

"Are you sure you don't want me on?" I asked her.

"Yes I'm sure, Mom!"

I stood outside the group of boisterous teenagers congregated at the corner ready for loading.  My daughter was laughing and chattering in the midst of them.  And there I stood, the onlooker.  No thought given to the eight hours of labor; no one wanting to hear that story.

I felt invisible.

They arrived back home as loudly as they'd left. When it came time for cake, she lit the candles without waiting for me.  In that moment, I realized what was bothering me.  She didn't need me anymore.  She had planned, decorated, invited and even baked her own cake. Without me.  And the more I thought about it, it became clear that it wasn't just about the party or feeling invisible--I was losing her.  The little girl who wanted me to play dolls, snuggle and fix her hair, didn't need me now.  It was the beginning of the end.

A week later, she and I were chatting with one of her friends.  My daughter shared something deeply personal.  Her friend nudged her, signaling her to shut up.

"Oh my Mom knows," my daughter said, "we have that kind of relationship."

And like the Grinch, my heart grew two sizes that day and melted into a giant puddle of happiness.  Maybe she doesn't need me to fix her cake or choose her clothes anymore; but we have that kind of relationship. One that, I hope, wraps her in unconditional love.

And in the length of one sentence, I felt visible again.