Archive for the ‘Kids’ Category

This past summer I was driving to my friend’s home in Rhode Island with my two daughters. It’s a lovely area near the beaches. Tree lined roads winding by horses grazing, babbling brooks and placid ponds. Gorgeous old, clapboard homes on green acres dot the landscape.

My eldest, who is twenty five, says, “This area is so beautiful. Not like the usual creepy New England towns.”

I exclaim, “What?? Creepy like how? A van with no windows is creepy. But not New England!”

Later on, while we are soaking up the sun on a fabulous beach, same daughter proceeds to tell my friend that ever since she was a little kid I’ve told her probably every single ghost story or mystery that took place in our part of New England.

Okay, when you put it like that. I sound like a monster.

It’s true. I might have pointed out a haunted house or two.

The Westport house where folks claimed a ghost resided.  One of the occupants fell asleep in a rocking chair and woke up with a haircut.

I probably mentioned the ghost of the red-headed hitchhiker on Interstate 195.

Most likely gave the background of the childhood rhyme about Lizzie Borden. I did take my youngest (seventeen at the time) to Lizzie’s house last year where the gruesome crimes took place.

I may have pointed out the lovely house that sits at the bottom of Metacomet golf course in my home town. Shared that murders were never a thing while I was growing up but a few years before I was born an elderly widow had been murdered in that very home during a robbery.

Could have mentioned the still unsolved mystery of the “New Bedford Highway Killer.” Eleven prostitutes went missing. Nine were found strangled and dumped in the woods. And that it was very possible a local attorney was the killer and actually indicted at one time. He moved to Florida in 1988 and there were no more murders on that stretch of highway since then.

Yes, I might have shared a story or two.

Dear Norah,

I’m very sorry and hope that you realize it’s not New England that’s creepy. Stuff happens everywhere.

It’s just your Mom who is creepy.

Hope I didn’t do too much damage. I’m just thankful that I spent a lot of quality, non-creepy time with you when you were young.

I absolutely loved cuddling up with you at bedtime every evening while reading you many, many wonderful fairy tales. As you peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Like Snow White and her killer stepmother. The orphaned Bambi who yearns for his murdered mother. Three little pigs trying to protect themselves from the wolf who wants to destroy their home. Hansel and Gretel’s great escape from the witch who attempted to burn them alive in an oven. And so many others.

I pray that, in some small way, it makes up for the ghost stories.

Love,

Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Last Sunday, my older brother and I were driving through the neighborhood where we grew up and Mom still resides.

We were talking about the train tracks along the river and I couldn’t remember when the trains stopped running. I recall sliding down, many a time, the steep hills to the river because that’s where kids played, built forts, caught poison ivy and smoked cigarettes. Boys rode their XR75s on the dirt paths. I certainly remember the tracks and hearing about hobos. But I don’t remember the actual trains.

My brother said they were still running when we were kids. Because he and his friend Billy would put pennies on the tracks so the train would flatten them.

We drove up First Street and we reminisced about who used to live in this house and that one.  When we got to the corner of First and Schuyler my brother pointed at a house and said, “So and so lived there. Always wanted to see if my name is still up there in that tree. Billy and I climbed it and carved our names.”

Billy and my brother grew up together. He died two years ago.

Shortly after he passed away my brothers and I were sharing memories of him on our whatsapp sibling group chat. I was in Malaysia, one brother in Connecticut and the other in Rhode Island.

Even though we were texting, and it was a tragically sad death, we were all literally laughing out loud recalling Billy. He was such a character and truly funny.

It’s odd how sometimes, at this age, we can hardly remember what we had for breakfast but there is such clarity in some memories that are decades old.

My little brother recalled the time that my older brother and Billy were supposed to be watching him. He was about nine or ten at the time so the older boys must have been about fourteen or fifteen. Billy and my brother really wanted to go a nearby Portuguese feast. So they dropped him off at their friend’s house and my little brother was left with the older sisters of people he didn’t even know! My older brother apologized (forty years later) and my younger brother claims he wasn’t scarred for life. Just felt a bit out of his comfort zone.

He also remembers when we would listen to the “crank call” recordings of Billy, my brother and their other friends. I definitely remember them. Because we would listen to them over and over again! Yes, Billy and company taped the actual calls. Even my mom thought they were hysterical.

My younger brother said, “Those tapes were comedy gold.”

He also said that was the very first time he heard the word “verify.”

Monsignor, the unfortunate (but not the only) target of the pranksters, said repeatedly that he did not order the pizza. He suggested that the pizza shop should call back the person to confirm the order.

Billy finished for Monsignor, “You mean to verify?!!??”

Monsignor said, “Yes.”

I remember Billy making me laugh when he was describing the telephone/address book at his house. He said the names were not all properly alphabetized by last name. He said it was so random. Like under the “P” tab it would say “Pat’s friend.”

My younger brother also remembered being on Cookie Hill with his friends. This was a small hill across the street from Billy’s house.

He said, “Billy was walking his dog (Moses) and wrestling around with him. He showed us little kids a peppermint tree. He cut the bark and it smelled exactly like peppermint.”

My older brother said Billy was the only kid that wasn’t afraid of my dad. That’s why my Dad liked him so much. My father probably seemed big and a bit intimidating to little kids back in the day. But not to Billy.

I guess it’s a good thing my dad never found out that my brother and Billy took his car for a little spin around the block.

When we finished up our reminiscing my older brother typed, “Love U both.”

I then typed, “Love U both, too.”

Younger brother types, “Ditto. Watching movie with Patty.”

I’m like, “Write it. U don’t get to say ditto.”

And he said, “I love u both.”

You take a moment and realize life is so very precious. Just like those childhood memories that haven’t faded in forty-five years. Ensuring some people will never be forgotten.

I’ve forgotten the train’s whistle but I remember so much.

 

 

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Flush

I was in Vermont at the end of June with my daughter who is preparing for university. We were in a hotel room getting ready for the day.

She was in the bathroom drying her hair and her bracelet somehow became unclasped and flew across the room and plunked right into the toilet.

Kerplunk!

What are the chances? Even considering the smallness of a hotel bathroom.

Why didn’t it land in the sink, tub or behind the toilet?

I glanced down at the clean bowl of water. The “Evil Eye” bracelet was staring up at me with something like eleven blue eyes.

Hmmmm. What to do? I’m not overly superstitious but did think that maybe we should attempt to save a piece of jewelry that was designed to ward off evil spirits. Didn’t seem too cool that it was sitting at the bottom of a toilet bowl.

I said hesitantly, “I’ll………”

She replied, “No, Mom, it’s okay. No, don’t.”

“Okay, but I would have totally done that for you.”

“We will see what housekeeping will do. Maybe they’ll flush it or retrieve it.”

Arrived back to the room later in the day and it was gone. We will never know if it was flushed, retrieved, trashed or repurposed on someone else’s wrist. And that’s just fine.

I did, however, have to ask my daughter this question.

“Honestly, what would you have done if it was your iPhone that ended up in the toilet?”

Don’t have to be a genius to figure out that answer.

 

 

 

 

 

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The last six months have been very busy for me. At times quite stressful.

The weekend of my daughter’s high school graduation (she graduated on the Friday) seemed especially busy. My husband was preparing to fly back to India on the Sunday with Thumper (the infamous canine) in cargo. We were worried about the mutt. And doing a bunch of last minute things.

We drove them to the airport (an hour from our home) hours earlier than the flight to ensure all paperwork in order.

It was hot. But it’s always hot in Malaysia.

And I was sweating. But I was always sweating in Malaysia.

Had to rush home from the airport because a friend was in from Australia and we needed to meet a group for dinner.

It was rush, rush and rush.

Got home but no time for a shower. What to do?

Brushed my hair and put it up in a clip. Some lip color.

I stunk. Just being honest. So I grabbed a face cloth and soap and cleaned under my arms.

Because I smelled like a person who had labored all day in the Malaysian heat without deodorant. For the record I do wear deodorant. Sometimes it fails me. In Malaysia.

At least I’m aware of it.

Hightailed it out of the house with my daughters and our friends who lived two doors down to meet up with our visiting friends at an Indian restaurant in the city.

It ended up being a lovely evening. The young folks went home right after dinner. My daughters had an early flight out in the morning. My friend and I went with the visitors for a couple of drinks after dinner.

Not a late night.

Arrived home and readied myself for bed. Now, thankfully, I only smelled like Indian food and wine.

My eldest, who sleeps with me when she’s at home and my husband is not, mumbled a few words like, “How was it?”

I took that as my cue for conversation.

She’s not always a fan. Because I’m sometimes pillow to pillow, “Remember your friend, Melissa, from second grade? Whatever happened to her?” and the like.

So I said, “Was a good night with the friends.”

And then continued conversing.

She said, “Not tonight, Mom. Early flight tomorrow.”

Totally respected that and snuggled into my pillow for a good night’s sleep.

Few minutes later I hear, “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“When we came back from airport did you shower?” she asked.

“No! You know I didn’t have time for that. Had to get downtown. I just cleaned under my arms with soap and water.”

She continued, “With the face cloth that’s on the sink?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

Okay, I laughed out loud even though I was nearly in slumber town. Couldn’t help myself.  Total belly laugh.

I said, “I’m going to blog about this one day.”

She replied, “Be more embarrassing for you though.”

I retorted, “Not really. It was my face cloth. Who uses someone else’s face cloth????”

Wishing you all a fun weekend! With a belly laugh or two! I promise to be better at updating the blog!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I am preparing for another move in June. So I’m starting to clear things out of the house.

Little by little.

And also trying to use up things instead of just tossing them.

I’ve written about this same thing back in 2009 when I was preparing for a move so this is totally not a new Mary phenomenon.

My eldest daughter is home and she is a big proponent of “using up stuff.” As I am. It’s like a contest for her.

Youngest daughter and husband not so much.

My house sounds wacky if one were to hear the exclamations.

Used up the bucket of chia seeds! Yes!!!

We are making dishes to include many things purchased in the past for just one recipe.

Cans of beets gone. Who bought those anyway?

No more aromatic sticks. Check.

Starting to pull out the candles.

Working on the bottles of salad dressing.

Slowly using up the products. The tubs of moisturizers, little jars of airline perfumes, hair oils and face masks.

The other day, I said to my youngest, “Jeepers, I smell like a bordello!”

I put out my hand, while driving her to school, to give her a little squeeze. She sort of backed away and was wiping her hands.

I was like, “What???”

She said, “It’s just a little greasy.”

I laughed and said, “I know. I can hardly put on my clothes in the morning.”

In the end there will be re-gifting and many donations. But for now I am just using up stuff.

Even if it’s April.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s my eighth anniversary of writing this blog! Amazing how the time does fly. Super amazing how many changes also took place during that time.

Apologies for not writing in awhile. It’s that whole time flying by thing.

A friend’s recent status on Facebook was, “Tell me something good.”

I thought the actual phrase, which I hadn’t heard used as a greeting in quite some time, was already something good.

Anyway, the response was fabulous. “I’m going to be a grandmother.” “The sun is out and the windows are open!” “I’m up and moving!” and many more. It was nice to read and see that people could immediately respond with something good.

We all know there are plenty of Facebook statuses that do not elicit good or positive responses. Especially lately.

Yesterday, I was in a hospital elevator. One that has no motion sensor so I get knocked in the upper arms on a daily basis if I’m not careful.

A fellow pushes a steel cart on to the elevator while I make sure the doors don’t shut on him.

I figured he was a florist because both trays on the cart were laden with gorgeous flowers, balloons and presents.

Of course, I have to engage in conversation.

I ask, “Wow! All those for one person?”

He smiled and said, “Yes.”

Then I spied the writing on one of the balloons. “Baby Girl!”

I said, “Awwww, a baby girl.”

He says with a huge smile, “Yes, my fifth.”

“Oh, she’s yours!!!! Five girls?”

“Fourth girl.”

I congratulated him, chatted and wished him the best.

Went down to the lobby and got my parking ticket validated and was walking by the front doors and see a little, swaddled baby in a clear, plastic bassinet on wheels. Looked like a pink burrito.

And she was just precious. Three days old. The mom is there in a wheelchair waiting for a car to pick them up. I see all the gifts that I had just seen on the elevator.

“Congratulations! I just met your husband in the elevator. She’s soooo beautiful.Bless you all!”

We chatted for awhile about the delivery and how she was feeling.

She looked so positively radiant. And it made me happy.

That was something good.

 

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Had the oddest dream the other night.

I was in a store but it was sort of like a warehouse. Not exactly Costco but more like the back garden section of Wal-Mart when they have empty shelves. In between seasons.

For some reason, Thumper (my Jack Russell) was with me.

There was a guy there. Tall and lanky. Think of a younger Sam Elliott with dark hair. But a bit scruffier. If that’s possible.

Anyway, he’s leaning against one of the shelves. Above him, on the top shelf, I spy an animal looking down at us. It looks like a small ferret but it’s black like a weasel.

I ask, “Is it yours?”

He replies, “Yes.”

I continue, “What is it???? Is it a ferret???”

His shrug is noncommittal.

I’m like, “It’s yours? And you don’t know??? Is it a mix of ferret and something else? What is it???”

I don’t get an answer.

The ferret or whatever it was suddenly jumps down to the floor. Opens his mouth and begins to swallow Thumper. Brought to mind one of those nature programs where the snake swallows something so much larger than itself-like a deer or a refrigerator.

I’m horrified. He’s got half of Thump in his mouth!

The guy says, “He’ll never be able to swallow all of him.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the ferret gulped down my Thumper.

Swallowed him whole. All of him!

I’m sickened and rooted to the spot.

Then, all of a sudden, the ferret opens its mouth and spews out Thumper. Like a cannon ball shot into the air!  Couldn’t hold him in apparently.

Whew!

Next morning I’m telling my husband.

Asking, “What do you think that dream was all about? What on earth??? Is it the world being swallowed up? Is it me? Is it you? Nothing can hold Thumper down? What????”

He laughed and said, “I just don’t know, Mary.”

Do dreams have to mean anything?

I can only vividly remember two other dreams in my fifty two years of living.

One was when I was a little kid and the dream was about a strange man giving me a heart shaped box of candy. But I didn’t know he was a stranger because he was wearing a mask. Of my grandfather’s face! I think we can all safely assume a “Stranger Danger or Don’t Take Candy from Strangers” campaign might have planted that seed. It was absolutely horrifying. I thought I was totally safe because I was following the rules and not taking candy from a stranger. Shivers.

The other one was when I was teenager. I was driving a car on one of those highway bridges and suddenly the road just ended. Nothing. Just a cliff like scenario. I plummeted. The good news is that I never actually hit the ground because I woke up just before I did. With the bed sheet over my face. But the trip down was downright terrifying. Not sure what the genesis of that dream was but I suppose teen angst could have played a role.

Anyway, nary a clue as to the back story behind Thumper being gobbled up by a ferret. Just glad it was only a dream.

Do you remember your dreams or nightmares? Crazy as mine?

 

 

 

 

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