Cheryl & Ryan: The Bouquet

"Okay," I said "Your colors are blue and brown, so what kind of flowers would you like? Can you give me an idea?

"Yes" she said "I want Ivory roses, feathers and birds."

"Feathers?"

"Yes."

"And birds?"

"Yes, feathers and birds--and roses"

Love and Leg Hair

This morning I got a chance to reflect on my life as a woman who has had to shave her legs for over 43 years. I can't believe that there was a day that I actually looked forward to this lifelong drudgery. Thank heavens, the look after is worth all the trouble. The first pair of nylons that covered my brand-new shaved-for-the-first-time legs were some nylons that my dad found in a barrel at the hardware store where he was buying plumbing supplies. They were such a bargain (there was an entire barrel full to the brim) that he bought several pairs and brought them home for me.

I was dumbstruck.

You see, the reason for the "big sale" was because they had this funny "seam" running right down the back of them. Never mind it was the 60's and seam nylons went out with WWII. . . and to top it all off, my first occasion to wear my first pair of nylons, with my just-shaved-for-the-first-time legs, was to my great-grandfather's funeral. It was hard enough that you had to put on a polyester"harness" around your hips, where some cotton straps and dangley metals things, clung to your nylons (they only went up mid-thigh) so they wouldn't fall down. Oh, and when that "special time" came around once a month--you had another "harness" that, well, we'll save that for another story.

Everyone at the funeral remarked how much I must have loved my Grandfather (which I did) so much, because I stood by his casket all evening. The real reason was that next to the casket was the only wall which I could stand in front of, hiding the hideous seams behind me that etched up my leg on the back. Yes, I actually "backed" into the room, and I "backed" out of the room. And Dad was very proud that he'd bought me something so special . . .

Fast-forward to the greatest invention of all time--knee socks! Trouser socks! Wonderful contraptions to hide the fact that you didn't have time, one too many times, to shave. Winter can be a boon to too tired hands, and worn-out blades! Just cover it up with a dark sock. . .

Jacey is studying Cosmetology. She did her last semester in aesthetics. In other words--she learned to wax. And she waxes everything. Her brothers, and yes, even her Dad, get regular "nose hair" waxing--and they all swear by them that they actually breathe better. She said, "Mom, grow out your leg hair and I will wax your legs" Okay, that sounds interesting, I'll try it--I really like smooth legs. Well, Jacey has the social calendar of a national leader, and she was getting married to boot. She kept postponing my waxing. You know when I gave up waiting for my wax job? When one morning as I was walking down the stairs, I felt the "wind blow" on my legs. They were actually "blowing in the wind" as I walked! Disgusting. I shaved that day.

Now, with no, or very little estrogen coursing through my body, my leg hair is noticeably softer and less noticeable. Maybe I will become like my mom who never had to shave in her golden years. But I am not there yet.

Today, as I was shaving my legs, my little four-year-old granddaughter, Audrey, stood by me watching. "Nana, why are you cutting that grass?" I fell on the floor.

"Gwamma, what makes the grass grow there?" Fall on the floor again.

I don't know. I just know that today--it was a lot more fun to shave!

Me, Tamra & Paisley's Planet

Tami and I have been working on Tami's dream--her "Gap" year. Tami is my cousin, on my mother's side, and we have been working on her idea of creating a children's book called "Paisley's Planet". Tami will be traveling the world, visiting with children, writing her book and enjoying her life as an independent observer of life, enjoying all this world has to offer. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?

It will not come without sacrifice. She has sold or stored most all of her "earthly possessions" while her greatest blessings in life, her children, will be in constant contact with her through the gift of technology. Apartment--gone, car--soon to be gone.

Until she makes this big leap in her life, she will be working on business plans, Paisley's blog, travel arrangements, translators and housing. Many have offered her a home in some wild places . . .but she will always be here, with us her family, in the home that we call our heart.

"The Baby" is Getting Married

Life is pretty much a whirlwind of activity these days as we prepare for the wedding of "our baby". "The baby" is almost 22, has chosen a really good man, and is halfway through her college education. She is getting married in the right place, and it feels like the right time, and with a man that feels right for her.

It seems only yesterday that I saw her name "Jacey", written on a piece of surgical tape, taped at the foot of a NBIC crib for all the world to see. I still have that piece of tape. It meant the world to me at the time because it signified her importance--she wasn't just a little bit 'o nothin', tiny as she was, she was a force to be reckoned with. She had a name. That meant that the doctors had to do everything they could to not only save her life, but make that life as normal, physically, as possible. They did. With the exception of a little problem that most of her friends, and all of her family can attest too--Jacey fluffs. Often and loud.

She has a tender heart, the tenacity of a lion mixed with the compassion of angels. She is loyal and kind, and though sometimes--because she is so young--she takes her time getting to the right place--she always gets there. Always, she is quick to recognize her errors, slow in correcting them (she tortures those she loves) and then quick to make it better. Don't you just love this about her?

Jacey has tried her whole life to do the right thing. She has survived. She has loved--but most of all she has forgiven.

I wouldn't have missed one moment with this child--it has all been worth it. She is precious to me. She is my little girl. . . and she has grown to be such a beautiful, talented, and loving young woman. I must have done something good . . .for God gave her to me to raise. . .

Uncle Doulou

I have this uncle--he's my mom's brother. He's very special to our family. He has a fabulous wife (my Aunt Sherlene) and together they gave me a whole family full of cousins to love. He is an exceptional granddad. Some of the double-dating stories, with my parents, are for a whole other blog-type! He loved my parents, especially his big sister, Deedy.

I know that you are having a hard time with your heart right now, and I just wanted to say that I was thinking about you, and wishing you well. Thank you for braving the cold on Easter with us, and for all the love and enthusiasm you have for anytime we can get together as a family. You are this family's biggest cheerleader.

I love you.

Parents

Oftentimes, while in my room at the hospital, I imagined Merrill and Deedy walking into my room. Mom would come over and give me a kiss on the cheek, and pat my hand. Dad would bend over and give me one of his "bony one-arm hugs" that I miss so much. They both would sit down and start chatting. Mom, of course, would tell me everything she'd read on the subject and make recommendations--and Dad, well, he would listen to my stuff, and then would encourage me to hang in there. . .he probably would have brought me something in a sack that he knew was my favorite.

Dad's death was a shock. I remember how hard it was to answer Dad when he looked at me straight on and asked me, "Am I dying?". I looked at him and simply said, "yes". I knew that he wouldn't want me to get emotional, so I responded as simply as I could. I was able to tell him how much I loved him before he died--even though I didn't feel that I necessarily needed to. He knew it, and I knew it--we'd spent a lifetime making sure. Our mourning was indescribable, until 14 months later.

Mom's passing was such a surprise. She said that she was "trying to check out"--but we really didn't believe it--even when the doctor said so. "Past the point of no return" was something like what he said. Later, we were told it was a heart attack that took her. Her final breaths were taken as all of her five children, and grandchildren, surrounded her bed. We watched peacefully as she drew her last breath and her full and loving heart beat it's last beat. Then we sobbed.

I had my parents for 55 years. Growing up I had one great-grandmother and 3 grandmothers and 2 grandfathers. I was in a five-generation picture until I was 51 years old! Now, they are all gone. They all "checked out".

I was born of goodly parents. Thank you Mom and Dad, for this pain I have in the middle of my chest. It's presence only confirms that I really had quite a life with you both. . .and now, Dad, guess who's at the top of the conveyor belt?

TAH: Post-Op 3 weeks today . . .

Hey, that's what all the "sisters" say on the "Hyster-Sister" website. . . That's how you are identified, summed up, figured out and explained. . .

TAH stands for "total abdominal hysterectomy". I still don't know quite how to feel--even reading the name. You see, I agonized, as rarely I have before, whether to have this done to me. I had to trust other people (who sometimes weren't all that convincing) that it was the right thing to do. You say I have to have my uterus, cervix, ovaries, etc. out? Why can't I keep my ovaries? I hear that I need them until I die . . .who is telling the truth?

Okay, I forget--it doesn't really matter anymore--they are gone. The house I grew my babies in is gone. The almond-seed-sized laboratories of my libido are gone. All I have left are hopeful words, both spoken and written, that everything will be okay.

Right now, my "swelly-belly" is burning, sensitive to both pajamas and sheets. But I feel okay. I actually feel good. Tired, but better than I imagined. I am sick of "Lifetime" movies--but still look forward to the "Golden Girls" and "Will and Grace" and all the laughter I know that comes with them. I have a love-hate relationship with the TV. Books, my past salvation, are curiously harder to read and enjoy. I take photos of birds--I love birds--from my bed. Terry leaves birdseed out on the deck to draw them in. Jared bought me a book so that I can begin to know their names. I love waiting and watching for them. They have been my salvation.

I love prayer. Earnest prayer. And I love and am thankful for blessings. Blessings really do come true.

Did I tell you I have a "nanny"? I do, and Kelsey watches over me and little Campbell until Nana gets strong enough to watch him all by herself. What a guilty pleasure.