Whose Life Is It?

Middle One dropped by the other morning.... just to visit.  Living in a bedroom community of Tulsa where 100,000 citizens reside, sometimes feels like we are living in another town compared to our small-town experiences in Wyoming.

Why heck, I think the largest number of people living in one place in Wyoming is about 59,000.  But we didn't live there.

Our six homes were located in towns no larger than 6,000.  It was not at all unusual for neighbors to drop in "just to visit" or that families taking a walk might pass by and decide to ring our bell for an impromptu conversation, which could easily turn into burgers on the grill and kids splashing about in a blow up pool.




I look at Middle One and think, "She's living my life" - the life I knew for so many years - raising three children - very involved in a church community - trying to make ends meet - discerning how to divide my time between children, friends, husband and work (salaried or volunteered).

I look at Middle One and TJ and feel as if the clock has swung back in time.

Both my daughters have three children, great husbands, good friendships and a strong faith.

They love their homes and enjoy making them spaces where their families feel safe and loved.  They want them to be places that welcome others and provides their husbands with the refuge they sometimes need.



 When Middle One's husband needs to wind down he will go into their bedroom and play his guitars (each one has a specific musical distinction).  When TJ's husband is weary, he likes to forget the day in a televised game of golf, baseball, football or poker.


He-man's therapy has always been his work shop. But these days grand children have risen above the swirl of sawdust and the smell of freshly cut wood.

Now I wonder, does my mom see me as living her life?  A life where the early years of retirement allowed her to surrender to the day.  A life that no longer began with the buzz of an alarm clock or a day spent with children that didn't contain homework, doctor appointments, piano lessons or laundry.  A time when she could sit and read or wash her hair or look at birds out the window and not once be interrupted.

Maybe that's why each day... no each moment ... seems so fantastic.  I feel as if I have finally opened my eyes to the miracles that extraordinarily unfold before me in my ordinary life.

Thank God for growing older!  Thank God for families that extend what was begun long, long ago.  Thank God for birds and shampoo and little to do.

I hope you have a most ordinary day!

We're Going To Puddle Ducks!

"What is that?" you say.  Well let me tell you.......





Puddle Ducks is an in-home day-care facility in Laramie, Wyoming.  It is owned and operated by a charming British couple who have six children of their own, none of which are of preschool age.  I believe their oldest is close to age twenty and their youngest is a set of twins just beginning high school.

Anyway.... TJ and I paid a visit to Puddle Ducks while I was in Laramie.  TJ was hoping to enroll her youngest daughter (grand child # 6) by the time school opens this Fall, when she will return to full-time teaching.

As soon as I lifted my finger from the door bell of the cottage style home, I could hear giggling and squealing on the other side.  When the door opened we were greeted by  Miss Ruth, who said, (in the most charming English accent), "Come in.  Come, come children and say hello to M____".  Suddenly a swarm of children encircled us.  With arms flinging and hellos flying we were fervently ushered inside

We spent about an hour touring the home, playing in the basement's in-door playground, looking at pictures of field trips, examining closets, sampling every activity center and joining the group sprawled on top of the largest bean bag chair I have ever seen for story time. Every nook and cranny of Puddle Ducks was delightful.  But it all paled in comparison to Miss Ruth herself.  She was tall and slender, dressed in tan cords and a black turtleneck, joined at the center with a stylish braided belt.  Her feet were bare, long blonde hair tousled on top of her head, eyelashes with a hint of false fluttery and lipstick drawn precisely inside the lines of a mouth that uttered the most charming combination of words. When Miss Ruth addressed a child she would call them by name.  Not their given name, but names of British endearment....like, Sausage or Love or Pumpkin. 

I could have stayed with Miss Ruth for the rest of the day.  I loved all the pictures in her home... the way it was decorated... her way with the children, how she introduced her husband as "Love" and I was hoping to partake of an authentic English tea.

Miss Ruth told TJ she would let her know if she had an opening before the Fall school session began.  She bent down to my grand daughter and said, "I hope you will be one of my little puddle ducks, Muffin."  Since that time forward I have called grand daughter number six, "Muffin".  Sometimes I slip and call her Sausage.  She quickly corrects me by saying, 'I not you sausage.  I you muffin!"


Muffin has been practicing to be a Puddle Duck.  


She has learned how to lift her skirt like a lady when climbing the stairs. 

 

and how to use utensils with European flair.

She's been getting lots of exercise

and weening herself from childish afternoon naps.

 

  

She is learning how to spin a paracell

and the way a proper lady wears her hats.

She's been practicing her manners at the four o'clock hour for tea

and visiting the loo on time - most importantly.







Hurray to you, Muffin.  You are one of Miss Ruth's Puddle Ducks!

I hope you are well this Sunday.  I hope you meet someone delightful - someone you would want to spend a day with.  I hope you are blessed with endearments.  I hope you are accepted where ever you go.

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

I am developing a new obsession.  Oh great!  One more thing for me to try to perfect.  I must confess it.  I am addicted to taking pictures.  I do not leave the house without my camera.  I have forgotten my cell phone and sometimes my driver's licence but not my camera.  One never knows what beauty or rarity that one might see and need to capture on film.  Well, at least try to capture.

I have taken pictures of pictures

And pictures of sisters

  I like Middles One's pictures of spray

and my pictures of play

I have taken pictures of  words

and pictures of birds

Pictures of smiles

 and pictures of piles

I've taken pictures of news

and pictures of shoes

 There have been pictures of dresses

and pictures of messes

pictures of stairs

and pictures of chairs

 pictures of makin'

and pictures of bakin'

pictures of flowers 

and pictures of showers

pictures of backs

 and pictures of fronts

more pictures of backs

 

and more pictures of fronts

I've taken pictures of schools

 and pictures of rules

pictures of fathers and daughters

 and pictures of great grandfathers and great grand daughters

pictures of trees

and pictures of leaves

pictures of beds

and pictures of heads

and I'm getting dizzy from all that I've said

Thanks for indulging my obsession.  I have registered to take a photo workshop from Middle One's friend who is an outstanding photographer.  I am very excited.  So rest your eyes for my next big photo shoot.  It's a comin'!!!

I hope there is something of beauty or rarity that crosses your path today.  I hope you have something in your life that captures your heart... something that becomes a lovely obsession or passion.  I hope you know love.