From Mom's Memorial Service Last Night

First of all, I want you to know I’m having a really hard time putting a life just shy of 80 years onto paper. There is just so much that could be said, so many memories, and I’m sure that for a long time I’ll be thinking of things I could have or would have said had I thought of them.

She arrived in late August of 1934, the third daughter of Edward Chambery and Edna  Caroline Hooper. In later years she would ask her father if he was disappointed that she hadn’t been a boy. She said he winked at her and said, “You get over it quick.” The blond haired blue eyed baby came into the world sporting a birth defect known as spina bifida. It was a rare type, high on her back, between her shoulder blades, and the spinal cord had stayed intact. The doctors tied off the sac, and told her parents to take her home and hope for the best. Her five year old sister, Jeanne, named her Arlene, and her parents gave her the middle name Hope.

She was five years old when her mother died of pneumonia and her Grandma came to live with the little family on Rich’s Dugway in Brighton. She grew up with her sisters, Jeannie and Margie, and her little brother, Chuck. They were surrounded by extended family. Cousins were their best friends. They played in the empty lots and often crashed Sunday school picnics at Ellison Park. Even as a child Mom didn’t care for the cold and often stayed inside during the winter which earned her the nickname “Houseplant”. As a little girl, she loved babies and once broke her elbow when she fell down running to see her new cousin David.

When she was fourteen the family moved to Garson Avenue in the city of Rochester and she graduated from East High School in 1952.

Mom met my Dad at a sledding party in February of 1952 and they were married a year and a half later. In September of 1957, after four years of marriage and no babies, they received a phone call from a woman for whom Mom had babysat, telling them of a tiny baby boy who needed a home. They picked him up just hours later and were instant parents. They named the dark haired, brown eyed baby Daniel. He was just six days old. In the summer of 1958 they bought a little house on Mohawk St. in Webster, NY. My Grandpa Plotzker quickly declared it made of cardboard, but they would remain there for the next 50 years turning the little house into a haven.

In November of that same year, 1958, my brother Tim was born and they became a family of four. While Dan was a healthy active toddler, Tim came with struggles. He was physically healthy, but his traumatic birth had left him severely autistic. For five years there were just two little boys. Mom and Dad played on the floor with them, read them books, and took them to Sunday school. Neighborhood children were almost always welcomed into their home. One day a small group of children knocked on the door looking for my brother. Upon finding Danny not home, they looked up at my mom and said, “Well, Plocker, can you play?” Some of those same children, 50 years later, would remember my parents’ mealtime prayers, Bible stories, and, in the words of one, “how specially she treated me when I was little.”

My sisters and I arrived in 1964, ‘66, and ‘68. Three little girls; Martha, Priscilla, and Rachel. I have early memories of Mom putting my shoes and socks on after naps, lining my dolls up on the couch for a tea party, and reading from my collection of picture books.  She held my hand on walks, shared the last the last sugar-sweet drops of coffee in the bottom of her cup with me, and let me feel her tummy when my baby sisters kicked inside her. In some homes Dad is the one to be feared, but in our house, Mom was the disciplinarian and not one to be crossed. When she talked through clenched teeth we knew she meant business, and she had a spanking stick to back it up if necessary.

Mom did in home child care for years and countless moms, dads, and children passed through our doors. Some of them were neighbors. At times our home was a sanctuary for those who needed a place of peace. There were cookies and popsicles and backyard Bible Club in the summer. If there was a Kool-Aide Mom in the neighborhood, she was it, even if she didn’t buy Kool-Aide.

Jesus was a major part of my parents’ lives. They talked about Him and to Him and taught us to do the same. They took us to church and Sunday school, and prayed with us and for us. The memories of my sisters and I kneeling beside our beds each night remains clear and sweet all these years later. We had friends from a variety of churches and denominations and I often enjoyed visiting a church other than our own on a Sunday evening.

Time never waits and our family grew up. We got married, moved out, and began families of our own. (Arlyss, I want you to know that every time one of us was expecting a new baby, Mom would say, “How about Arlyss? It’s such a pretty name.”) Mom was an encourager. As she encouraged others, she tried to encourage us. For years I called my mom from Williamson every day. She was my friend and confidant, and every month I dreaded the arrival of the telephone bill. 

Mom’s spina bifida eventually caught up with her, causing her chest cavity to become rigid and making it impossible for her to take a deep breath. Her last 12 ½ years were spent tethered to an oxygen concentrator. It kept her close to home and limited many activities, but she still went out to church every Sunday, and to visit several nursing homes each week with my dad. We often think of the ministries as his, but for 30 years she was there by his side, singing along with his music and encouraging the residents.

My dad’s passing took a toll on Mom. She was already beginning to struggle with memory issues and we were just beginning to really take notice. For a year after Dad’s passing she lived in her own house with our son Dave and his wife. Almost 3 ½ years ago she moved in with us. When asked how she was doing, Mom often replied by saying, “I’m counting my blessings.”

In all the time she was with us, she never asked to go home. She would talk about her “little house” or refer to it as “65 Mohawk Street” but she never asked to go back. On Monday morning I heard her talking to my little dog. “I guess it’s almost time for me to go home,” she said. Surprised, I looked around the corner into her room and she looked up at me and said, “Do I live here now?” At supper the same evening she said to me, “Is somebody coming to take me home tonight?” and I replied “No, you’re staying here tonight.” In the back of my mind I silently wondered what home she was referring to. That night she talked in her sleep all night long, at one point saying, “That’s my Uncle Louie. He’s a good guy,” and then she made a reference to her Uncle Tom. She was seeing those she loved who had already moved on and I wondered if she was getting ready to go too. The visit to the doctor on Wednesday morning found her telling the doctor she was fine in spite of the cough she couldn’t shake. They did some chest x-rays and blood work, and sent her home with a precautionary antibiotic. She went to bed tired that night and sometime early the next morning Jesus came to take her home.

Her pain and struggles here are over now and she’s been reunited with those she loved, her parents and oldest sister, my brother Dan, and Dad. She’s introducing her Uncle Louie and telling people what a great guy he is, and she’s waiting for us.

Counting

Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

The house is quieter without the hum of Mom's oxygen machine. She left us for glory yesterday morning and it's really just starting to hit me. I was just starting to get the hang of how to answer her surprise questions. "Is someone coming to take me home tonight?" she had asked at supper on Monday. "No, you're staying here tonight," I'd told her, but something deep inside told me perhaps she wasn't talking about the little house on Mohawk Street. In the three years she's been here, she never talked about going home. After she was in bed that same night I heard her talking. "That's my Uncle Louie. He's a great guy." and then something about Uncle Tom. She's seeing loved ones already passed on, I thought. And on and on she talked into the night, things I couldn't decipher. I don't know who she was talking to, maybe Jesus.

And then we took her out to see the doctor on Wednesday and she couldn't figure out why we needed to do that. She seemed pretty good during the visit aside from our concerns and the slight rattle in her left lung. The trip wore her out and on the way home she sometimes made strange sounds or had a hard time talking, and once we were home she slept much (with her head on the table) and talked little. I thought I might have to help her into her pajamas, but she managed to do it herself. Ben heard her coughing in the morning but by the time I got up at 7 am she was quiet. I don't always look in on her, but yesterday morning I did.

She's with Dad now and yesterday is pretty much a blur. The roles have flipped and now I am the child once again. It's going to be harder than I anticipated.

And So It Goes

Mom did not talk in her sleep last night. She coughed instead. I didn't sleep well, instead I listened for Mom.

It was still early when I heard the squeal of hearing aides signaling my mother's wakefulness, but although she was out of bed and had put in her hearing aides, she did not come out of her room. I eventually peeked in on her and found her with her head on the table, "resting" as she calls it. Her blinds were open, but her shoes were empty and her bed unmade. Her pajamas, normally folded on the end of her bed, had been tossed haphazardly toward the laundry basket. Definitely not a normal morning. I took her some tea. She took a sip but acted rather lethargic and didn't come out of her room.

As soon as nine o'clock rolled around, I called the doctor's office for an appoint- ment. Her own doctor had an opening at 2:30 pm. Blah. Not good for me and little girls who arrive on a bus after school. Wasn't there anything earlier? After some talking we decided to squeeze her in with the other doctor at 10:40 am. I was warned that he often runs behind and there might be a considerable wait.

I tossed some "kid stuff" into a cloth purse for Rocky and warmed up my van. While helping Mom with her shoes I came to the realization that her oxygen hose was on the floor by her feet rather than on her face, which rather nicely explained the reason she appeared groggy and made of lead. (It was a de ja vu moment.) We finally made it out the door and to the doctor's office where Rachel met me a half hour or so later. When questioned by the doctor, Mom insisted she was fine; no pain, no discomfort, no coughing up anything vile... But the doctor said her left lung rattled slightly, and given her history and other symptoms, felt some blood work, an x-ray, and a round of antibiotics and some Musinex would be helpful. Rocky and I went to Wendy's for some French fries while Rachel took Mom for the chest x-ray.

We're all back home now. Mom has parked herself right where she was before we left his morning. It's been a weird day with her doing some weird things like reaching out as though she saw something that wasn't there. Or maybe was looking at something and it just seemed weird to me... Either way, I'm glad we took her out. I'm grateful for my sister's help, and a doctor who actually took the time to look, listen, and take action.

Now I'm ready for a quiet evening, a fire in the wood stove, and something warm to drink.

A Little More

We've been blessed with a little more snow. Most folks are sick of it and groan to see it arrive, but it's still February in upstate NY

and this is normal. It's even expected. Some of our worst snow- storms have been the first week of March, and since spring is only a few short weeks away, I say we may as well enjoy it while it lasts. No matter how inconvenient, it's still pretty.

I did not venture out to Ladies' Prayer and Bible study this morning for a variety of reasons. One was the weather, which cleared up rather nicely well before I would have pulled out of the driveway. Another was a son who didn't make it home last night. He's all grown up now but my momma's heart still worries when they are expected and don't show up. Thankfully, he sent me a message letting me know he's fine and at work. The other reason is my mother. I just didn't feel comfortable leaving her home alone today.

Mom talked in her sleep all night long. It started as soon as she went to bed and continued on long after we climbed in bed and went to sleep.On my way back from the kitchen I heard her talking about her Uncle Louie and then she said, "He got stuck with the name Roberts. He never robbed anyone in his entire life!"

I took her a dose of cough medicine at about 10:30pm. Her eyes were open and she appeared awake, but looked at me and said, "Why aren't you in bed yet?" (Maybe because I'm all grown up now and go to bed when I want to...) I'm not even sure she was awake when she said it. I handed her the medicine without making an explanation. She couldn't have heard me without her hearing aides anyway.

Later, while James and I were sitting at the computer just opposite her room she said, "If you ask him to show you his animals, he just might show you some people." I burst out laughing, but even now I'm not sure if it is really funny. And so the talking went, on and on, sometimes loud enough to hear from our bedroom upstairs though I wasn't able to either decipher or remember anything else.

I did put in a call to her doctor's office. Someone will call me back. Though I desperately don't want to take her in, I also don't want to miss something that needs to be addressed. I think we're both going to be sleepy today. A nap sounds good already and it's not even noon.

Well, Now

Monday, my day off. Last week I vegetated. Today I cleaned.

Mom's been a little more confused than usual today. Not sure if it's her cold or something else. She's been saying things that either don't quite make sense or asking about going home and then saying, "Do I live here now?" At supper she asked if someone was going to take her home tonight. "No," I said, "You're staying here tonight." Although she's still coughing here and there, it doesn't really seem to be any worse than any other day. I'm continually left guessing what to do, and she's continually left not knowing how to answer my questions.

It's an old photograph, Mother's Day 2006. There's the mom I miss. (I miss that hair I had too. Just can't get it to behave anymore.)

Take the Long Way Home.

James and I took Joe (our son) back to school in Auburn this morning and then, we took the long way home. We drove west until we got to Cayuga Lake and then turned south.

Cayuga is a much bigger lake than James had anticipated, but we had all day and that to ourselves so on and on we drove. We eventually ended up in Corning, drove toward Bath, NY, and then up to our favorite winery on the west side of Keuka Lake. By 4:45pm we had made our way to Canandaigua, NY and decided to visit the Rheinblick German Restaurant where we shared dinner and it was magnificent! Nice end to a wonderful day together.

(Not familiar with the Finger Lakes? Here's a map.)
 

There Goes My Hat!

Actually, it was my glasses. They flew off my head and blew right across the parking lot! Good thing it was a small parking lot. You'd think I would have learned the first time, but I am so accustomed to perching them on my head that I almost lost them again on my way out of the grocery store. Thankfully, the second time they landed in my jacket hood. Yup, it was a windy day!

I've been making a point of listening to the funny things that my grandchildren and others say. There was an entire conversation going on last week. I had to laugh while listening.

 "My name is Tinkerbelle too." said Lucas, "But I'm not a girl. Flutter, flutter, flutter..."
He looks at Rocky who must be the other Tinkerbelle. "Did you see my sparkles?" he asks her. "They look like diamonds, huh?"
They proceed to flap their wings and run through the house whereupon Grandma admonishes them to "Slow down!" but their flight continues.
"Aubrey, come and flutter with me. Flap your wings, like this." says Lucas. Aubrey flaps her wings too.
"Flap, flap, flap.." and once again they are off and running.
Running and flapping must be hard work because I next heard Lucas tell the others, "I need new wings."

Yesterday Lucas was talking to one of the others and said,  "I'm a dult now. I grew up." Oh, the things I'd miss if I wasn't paying attention.

Last night I heard Simon talking to his daddy. "Hey," he said, "Can I have a piggy bank ride?"

The house has been wild and crazy. It doesn't stay quiet for more than a day or two lately, and I'm having a hard time keeping up with the work, but it has it's own rewards. I know they grow up all too fast, so for now I'm trying (and sometimes it takes effort) to soak it in and enjoy every moment.

Popping In to Visit

I had a conversation with my sister the other day regarding friends who drop by to visit without calling ahead. I was wondering how you feel about that and whether or not you ever stop over at the home of friends or family unannounced. What do you do if a friend stops by unexpectedly? Are you prepared ahead of time for surprise guests and if you are, what kind of preparations do you have set aside?

Years ago I had a friend who I felt comfort- able visiting without a warning call. One of the reasons we would stop in
un- announced was that this particular family didn't have a telephone. (This was in the days before everyone had a cell phone in their pockets.) We were always welcomed in with a smile and it seemed she always had a cup of tea waiting. Sometimes we even stayed for an easy spaghetti dinner.

There have been times when a friend or family member has chided me for being in the vicinity and not knocking on the door. Sometimes it's hard to know what really is the proper thing to do and maybe it's more a case of knowing one's friends well enough to decipher their feelings about unexpected company.

I have a few friends, a select few, who occasionally show up and surprise me with a visit. Sometimes it's convenient, sometimes not so much, but I'm always grateful they feel comfortable enough with my friendship to stop and knock on my door. There's always a muffin mix in the cupboard and, in the cabinet, fresh coffee to brew.

(The picture is my friend Adam and that is his scary face. He's really quite friendly and not at all scary. He is one of my dropper-inner friends and I'm glad he does.)

Tired

I'd like to write something tonight, but I guess I'm just too tired and out of it to collect any thoughts and get them into a decent arrangement. Must have been the lack of sleep last night, the drive to Auburn, NY and back this morning (it was a nice drive), and the afternoon full of noisy, rambunctious children. They didn't sit still or be quiet for more than a minute. Not even a video calmed them down. There was no chance for a nap. It's 9:36 pm and I am done. I almost feel like crying, but it's only because I'm tired. Maybe I'll just take a melatonin and crawl under the covers.

See you all tomorrow.

Funny Questions

She asked another funny question, that mother of mine, but this time I was a little better prepared, and I must admit that I had just woken her up. Perhaps her confusion was really part of a dream. I do have to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She's been coughing and since she doesn't have great lung power, I've been attempting to keep things loose in there with cough medicine. She had her head down on the table when I came in with the dose and tapped her arm. She picked her head up and appeared awake when she swallowed the sticky red liquid. I was already back in the living room when she called to me.

"I don't know about going over to that house," she said with a concerned look on her face. "I'm not sure I should go out with this cold."

"What house?" I asked not having a clue as to what she was talking about.

"I'm not sure," she said. " Weren't we going over to that house to sing or something?" She still looked concerned and even a little confused. She used to go out to area nursing homes quite often with my dad. He would play his banjo or guitar and harmonica and they would sing and visit with the residents.

Not wanting to make her feel silly or confuse her any further, I said "Oh, that's not today," and she was satisfied with the answer. I think she was even relieved. And then I remembered to call and reschedule her appointment at the Hearing Center tomorrow. I don't think she should be going out either.

I was relieved too, relieved that I had an answer for her today even if it was a simple one, and I even walked away from the conversation smiling.

F is for Felting

F is for felting, needle felting.

I needed a creative outlet. I love pottery, but the reality is I don't have the time, space, or money to become a potter. I'll have to stick to classes here and there if I want to play in the mud. However, I have discovered something called needle felting. It caught my eye a few months back and I just recently decided to order a kit and give it a whirl.

Needle felting isn't messy, doesn't require expensive equip- ment, and can be done a little here and a little there as I keep my eyes on my mom or small children. One does have to pay attention though because those felting needles are sharp and pierce the skin rather nicely. Ask me how I know...

I've found needle felting to be fun and think I will be looking a little bit more into techniques and supplies (which don't appear to be readily available or easy to find in most craft stores). Maybe this web site will be a good place for me to start.My brain is already running away with possibilities.

I made two mice from the kit I ordered online. Not too bad for a first try and enough to possibly get me hooked. I'll let you know how it goes.

 For more ABC Wednesday fun, click here

Not Much

I've been sitting here trying to come up with an entry for ABC Wednesday's Letter F, but it's not happening, not tonight anyway. Maybe the light will go on tomorrow and something fabulous will materialize. (Sorry, I already used that word, two years ago.)

I have been "coffee-free" for almost two weeks now and find that drinking two pots of tea daily is not near as hard as drinking eight to ten glasses of water. The nice thing about tea is that is tastes as good at room temperature as it does hot, maybe even better. I really like the Orange Zinger.

Not much to share tonight, I guess. Pray for Mom, she picked up the nasty cold my grandkids were sporting last week. I'm feeding her Robitussin DM at 4 hour intervals. Maybe I need to find her a teapot of her own too.

Something New

I'm trying something new. Needle Felting. I made a mouse today, a blind mouse. He has no eyes because the beads for the eyes are so small that my needle won't go through them. It was a fun little project and I only stabbed myself several hundred times, tiny wounds that bled little.

A Real Post

I'm trying to find the humor in it, but there are times when uncovering a reason to smile is harder than others.

She wanted to ask me something.
"Is anybody living in my old house where I used to live?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Who?" she inquired.
"Nathan."
"Nathan..." she repeated, "And who is Nathan again?"

My heart sinks a little each time this happens, each time she doesn't remember someone close to her.

"He's your grandson," I reminded her, but she still didn't remember. Instead she asked who he belonged to and said it's because she doesn't see him very often... except that she does.

The doctor doesn't think she has Alzheimer's. He says that mini strokes are more likely the culprit, but I'm not even sure what that means. Is there no medication to combat these mini strokes? If not, it may as well be Alzheimer's because it appears we're headed in the same direction. I'm not sure where it's taking us, I only know we're going there.

*sigh*

Tomorrow she will have forgotten all about not knowing her own grandson. He'll probably walk in the door, say "Hi Grandma!" and give her a hug, and she'll remember him just fine... or at least pretend she does.

Somehow, I'm not finding it funny. Maybe I'm just looking at it from the wrong perspective.

Isn't That Cool?

But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.

Hebrews 13:16

I found myself smiling yesterday, not because of my own Random Acts of Kindness, but because of how God can bring them full circle and bless me right back. You might think, like me, that blessing someone else is a reward of its own, and it is, but I was doubly blessed by a few random happenings totally unconnected to what I had done.

Yesterday morning I set out to deliver one more package. It was not unlike the boxes I sent out in the mail, but it was in a small gift bag and included some pretty tissue paper and a bag of dark chocolates. I left it in the elementary school office and asked if someone could deliver it to the unsuspecting librarian. Before heading back home I stopped at the library in the little town of Ontario, NY where my mission was to find a copy of Disney's movie Tangled. On a whim I perused the shelves and grabbed a few books too.

As the librarian renewed my expired card and I payed my $2.10 fine, we struck up a small conversation. "It's a rather random assortment," I commented on my selection. The book on learning to play harmonica lay near the top of the pile. "I have a whole boxful of harmonicas. My dad played harmonica and used to take it into the nursing homes along with his guitar or banjo and do Gospel and Song," I told her.

She looked at me quizzically and asked, "What was his name?" When I told her, she said, "Did he used to go to Maplewood?" It seems that years ago, when she was first starting out, she had worked at Maplewood and remembered my father being there. "He was a wonderful man," she said. I thanked her and found myself smiling on the way out the door.


And then, what do you know? I checked the mail when I got home and found a package with my very own name on it. My friend Patricia in Erie, PA had sent me a Tall Ships coloring book. How cool is that?

Random Sneaky Acts

My friend Betsy has conjured up a wonderful plan which involves
something called "Random Acts of Kindness". She has graciously invited us to play along and share in the excitement. This wonderful game involves doing something purposefully kind each week. Something you might not ordinarily do.

This week I decided to do something that I meant to do months and months ago. I baked Cardamom Snaps (a good batch), packed several in pretty little bags, and popped them inside of a few of my favorite thrift store coffee mugs. Then I packaged them up and shipped them out to two friends. If the postal service sticks to the schedule, they should arrive today.

And then, seeing as I was behind on my Random Sneaky Acts, I wrapped up a third box. This one included a doughnut cutter I had borrowed from a friend in October. I put it in a package too, along with another mug of cookies and a child-size apron for the recipient's small granddaughter. On my way home from the post office I stopped by my friend's house and secretly deposited the small package inside her back porch where it was sure to be spotted. I couldn't help but smile at the message I received on Facebook later that afternoon. "i have the awesomest friends, and the sneakiest" (The last two pictures belong to her.)

Fun, fun! I can hardly wait until my next Act of Sneakiness! You can join us here!

PS. Annie, I still need your address... or do I have it? When are you moving?

3X Thursday

It looks like my day will be full of ... hmmm ... how to say this and make it sound fun ... excitement. With four small children and an old grandma, there is certain to be something to laugh about today. The children are always full of wild ideas and my mom is always looking to settle them down. Yesterday we moved the little couch back across the middle of the living room so the area where they play isn't quite so visible from her vantage point by the fire. She has a bit of OCD when it comes to toys and their pieces. Oy!

Today is Thursday. I don't know if Kristina has internet access, but I like her 3X Thursday game. Blogging isn't quite as much fun if it doesn't generate conversation/interaction and this always seems like a good game to inspire that kind of thing. I hope she doesn't mind if I commandeer the game every once in a while.

1. What's in your purse?
2. Do you have a junk drawer and what do you keep in it?
3. Do you collect "fire hazards" on flat surfaces like coffee tables and counter tops?

Aside from the usual "purse stuff", I have a tendency to collect old gum wrappers, in the bottom of my purse, along with expired coupons and old bills. Once I take out all the junk, it's usually much lighter and easier to carry. I have a junk drawer but it's so full of whatnots that I need to find a new one for the little stuff I can't throw out but still need to hang onto. :0) And, unfortunately, flat surfaces around here tend to collect stuff. I clear them off only to pile them high again and again. *sigh*

E is for Eliminate

E is for Eliminate.

Coffee has been eliminated from my daily routine. Don't get me wrong, I love coffee. I love it especially much sweetened with French Vanilla Creamer and that is precisely the problem. I love it too much. Coffee has, in essence and over time, eliminated my sense of thirst. I never (or very rarely) feel thirsty. My lips were often chapped, my skin dry. I could go an entire day drinking nothing but a few cups of coffee. That is a bad way to live.

Last week I began a new adventure. It involves a pretty pottery tea pot I found at an estate sale and tea. Each morning I fill my tea pot with four cups of green tea. When that pot is empty, I refill it with herbal tea. I may or may not drink something else (one day I drank a pitcher of water with cucumber slices in it) but the coffee has been eliminated.

It's very sad, I know, but I've already begun to see some positive results. I'm less stressed out, my skin is beginning to feel and look better, and I'm starting to gain a renewed sense of thirst. All great results! Rest assured though, eliminating my daily consumption of coffee doesn't mean I won't sit down with a friend to share an occasional cup, especially if there is a cookie involved.

(A special thanks to Marilyn from Canada and my cousin Ondra for your encouragement toward drinking tea. And to my favorite "Auntie" Linda, also from Canada for the suggestion that I slice cucumbers into my water. She is a genius!!!)

For more ABC Wednesday fun, click here

Prison

"Grandma, can we play with this?" he asked in his sweetest three year old voice. It was an empty laundry basket.

I gave it a quick thought and said, "Sure, what are you going to use it for?"

"A jail," he replied, and off he went into the living room, a blue laundry basket in tow.

I don't remember which small child was first imprisoned under the basket, but I'm thinking it was Lucas (Actually, I do remember. It was Lucas and Simon was jumping up and down atop the overturned basket) as I'm sure Rocky would have let out a series of loud and boisterous protests had one of the others not modeled the "fun" first.



She never did holler, and neither did either of the boys. I suppose the fact that there are dozens of little windows and plenty of ventilation might ease the tendency toward panic and claustrophobia. Whatever the case no one cried over the laundry basket prison until Lucas later kept Simon from lowering the basket to the floor by keeping his legs straight. Then the jailor cried instead of the jailed.

Monday, Monday

We did not have small children today. It was quiet. It was weird. For four days we had small children and suddenly they were gone.
The snow fell on us through- out the night, beautiful, fluffy, lake effect snow. It was stuck to the tree branches and piled atop the cars. If I was just a little more spry and active, I might have wandered off into the orchard again, but it was cold and after the bus came for Emma, I wandered back int hehouse instead.

I did laundry the semi-old fashioned way. I washed them the new fangled way, in my washing machine, and then I draped them around the wood stove and hung them up to dry. I found a handy dandy clothes dryer at Aldi on Saturday and it is truly a godsend. Between it and an old crib side, on which I hung socks and underwear, the clothes dried in a few hours time. Then I tossed them into the dryer for a cold air fluffing. (Aren't I a genius?)

This afternoon I baked two loaves of  bread, just to show My Darling that I truly do love him as much as my dear daughter in law Michele loves my son Jim. It was pretty easy to mix up the dough in my Kitchen Aide mixer. What a handy attachment that dough hook is! Now I am back on James' good side, I think... At least until I sneak around the other side again.

I won't bother to tell you about the batch of cookies I ruined... Okay, maybe I will. It was a double batch. They were supposed to be yummy, but they didn't turn out right. I messed up and used baking powder instead of baking soda. Blah! Tomorrow I shall attempt to remedy what is left of the uncooked dough.