~Dear God~

Dear God,

Thank you for another year of life. You've given me so many blessings, starting with two sweet parents. Dad is already there in heaven with you....but you have given me another birthday with my mom here on earth. Thank you for that.

I know I often start my days with asking you to take her home to heaven to be with you, because of her condition...but hospice has made me see that that that is not my choice....but yours....and it will be in your own good time. And certainly, and selfishly, on days like today, I'm glad she's still here on earth. So, today, I'm taking her a cake and baby roses to celebrate my birthday with her...and to let her know how much I appreciate that she and my dad decided to bring me into this world. Thank you, sweet Lord.

Your humble daughter,

Carol

~Mother's Day 2011~

Dear God,

I thank you for giving me my dear mother (she turns 91 this month) and for my Mother-in-Law....who I learned to love and cherish deeply. We had our ups-and-downs.....but we loved each other very much before she entered Your Kindgdom 9 years ago.

My Mother taught me so many things: how to sew, to clean, to cook....heck, I can even defrost a refrigerator with pans of boiling water and use liquid starch on dampened, rolled white shirts you store in the frig til their ready!! (thank you God for frost-free refrigerators and permanent press shirts!!) She taught me the value of an education, the importance of family, and how to love unconditionally.

She taught me to never give up...no matter how hard the task-at-hand. She taught me to work hard.....that nothing worth anything comes easily. I have the work-ethic I do because of my Mother.

Although she has suffered these past years with alzheimer's, Lord, I know You are on that tough path with her. As much as I pray that You take her home so she doesn't suffer any more, I know that that is not Your plan....but mine.

Thank you for blessing me with the great honor of being the mother of the two most amazing sons ever. I know you just lent them to me for a short while....let me hold their hands for a bit ....but oh the wonderful joy they bring. I am SO very proud of both of them, for the great young men they've become, and the life-partners they were so wise to choose.














You made me wait a very long time for 'daughters'....but oh were they worth the wait!! Jackie is not only one of my sweetest gifts....but she is a beautiful mother to our three precious grandbabies!!

And Amy. Sigh. Amy makes me realize....without even knowing it....that you can never be close enough to Our Lord. She is the perfect addition to our ever-growing family~

Thank you, God, for all the blessings You continually bestow on me. I am ever-grateful~

Your Loving Daughter,

Carol

p.s. Please let all the Mothers in the world have a beautiful Mother's Day

~Farewell, Fawnie...Til We Meet Again~

Dear Dad, Take good care of my puppies. You now have both of them with you in heaven. Fawnie was so sick. I know that now, he is running through the green fields, ears flying in the wind, with Coconut.

Remember when Tommy saved his birthday money to buy him?? He loved that puppy. sigh.

We are taking time to mourn his loss. He was such good company to me this last year without Coconut. He was always right by my side while I worked. He hated the 'pounding' when I hammered the silver jewelry, though! Maybe Jim will come home from work one nite and meet a new puppy. We'll see!

Katie came yesterday and spent the afternoon with me. It helped a lot. She's a smart cookie for a little Amish girl!!!

For now, I will spend more time with Mom, and take some time to do some traveling. It's the first time in 36 years that I'm not responsible for anyone else: first the boys, then the dogs, then you and mom, then just mom, then one dog....now? I don't like this feeling.

Mom's alzheimer's is still the same: she knows who we are, feeds herself with a little help, can't walk or stand, and still only speaks an occasional word or two. But I know you already know that.
Aunt Grace is there with her, too. She's not doing well, either. They eat all their meals together. It's heartwarming to watch. Who knew they'd both end up there together!

I bet you're golfing everyday. And still rooting for the Browns, and as you used to say, "How 'bout them Indians?"!!!

I miss you horribly, Dad.

xoxoxoxoxox To Heaven and Back~

Your Loving Daughter~xoxoxoxox

~Easter Baking With Mom~

Each year when we were growing up, my mom made us her traditional Easter Bunny Cake : white cake, gooey seven-minute frosting, coconut..... Every year. So once I had my sons, I followed her lead, and made an Easter Bunny Cake just like my Mom's. Every year.

Last year, I decided to make 3 Bunny Cakes: a Mama, and two Babies.... one for Ella and one for Jackson. When I proudly set them on the table, Ella asked me who the bunnies were. I told her there was a Mama Bunny, an Ella Bunny and a Jackson Bunny. She looked up at me with her big green eyes and said, "Grandma.....that is VERY sad." I looked over the three cakes. They LOOKED okay. They each had jelly bean eyes and nose. And pink paper ears. Just like MY Mom used to make us. I was puzzled until she explained: "There's NO Papa Bunny, Grandma". Okay. I admit it. I felt awful. I had left out the Papa Bunny (my son!) . Bad Grandma. I learned my lesson. So this year, I baked the complete family: A Papa Bunny, A Mama Bunny, and two Babies.

And guess who spent this Holy Saturday with me? The original Bunny Baker herself: my Mom! She is out of the hospital and back at her assisted living home. She's on two new alzheimer's medications that are helping with her memory and delusions. She still gets confused at times, and talks about 'going home to her parents'. No....she doesn't mean heaven....she means back to the farm house in Uniontown, Pa, where she grew up once they came over from Italy. She forgets she's all-grown-up now at almost 89 years of age....and she gets confused. But when we picked her up this morning so she could come and help make the Bunny Cakes and pies....there was NO confusion on her face. She was a happy, determined mother-with-a-purpose: helping her daughter bake for Easter!

We had lunch and she laid down on the sofa with the puppies and snoozed while I made the seven-minute frosting for the cakes I had baked last nite. When she woke up, we iced the bunnies together. She giggled like a school girl and licked her fingers when they got too gooey....then headed for the sink to wash them and begin again. We had coconut everywhere!

I don't often stop to remember long-ago memories like watching my mother ice the Bunny Cake when I was seven...or eight....or nine. They came flooding back to me: my beautiful mom with her dark curls and big brown eyes standing in the kitchen, old-fashioned apron tied in a big bow behind her back. Determinedly icing that cake. I can see her like it was yesterday.

It was a beautiful Holy Saturday. One I will always remember. I pray that God let's us have her for a few more Easters. After all....there are still a whole lot of Bunny Cakes that will need to be baked!

~Like A Box Of Chocolates~

Mom’s been doing amazingly well these days, in spite of her alzheimer’s. The ‘normal’ windows seem to be lasting longer and longer. I don’t know why, but I find myself actually forgetting that she even HAS alzheimer’s!

Lately, she’s very concerned about how I am, if I’m working too much, and whether I’m sleeping at nite. It’s really quite dear. She actually told me last nite not to come to see her today if it would be better for me to stay home and work in my studio. She’s NEVER said that before. It brought me to tears.

She’s noticed that I’ve lost too much weight these past few weeks, and like any mother, she’s worried. It felt so good to know she remembered to tell me to eat. “Little bits” she said. I told her that I loved her for that. “For what?” she asked. “For worrying about what’s best for me” I said. “Well….what kind of a mother would I be if I DIDN’T?”. Yup….she is indeed a good mother. Even during the times she’s confused and forgets.

My visits with Mom truly ARE like a box of chocolates. You just never can tell what you’re going to get when you walk into her room, or call her on the phone. When alzheimer’s rears its ugly head, you’re very likely to come up with a very bitter, nutty piece of stale chocolate. When it ‘comes-and-goes’ during our visits, the chocolate you get is one with rich, creamy filling. And when the visit is perfect, the one you get is such a decadent piece of rum-soaked goodness that it makes the sides of your mouth turn upward in the most pleasing kind of smile. It lingers on your tongue, and in your mind for a long long time. Those are the sweetest visits. The ones that let you know that all is right with the world. With her world. And with mine.

This post won Post of the Day
over at Authorblog. Thank you, David. I am so very honored!

~Never Lose Your Little Girl Heart~

My mother bought me a framed calligraphy saying several years ago, from one of my artist friends, that says, "Never Lose Your Little Girl Heart". It sits on a shelf in the family room with some other treasures. Whenever I read it, I smile.

I am no longer that little girl. But she thinks I am. What she sees when she looks at me is “that little girl”. And how can she not? She’s my Mom.

She remembers long curly hair. Black patent leather shoes for Sundays. Easter hats and purses. Little white gloves. She remembers boo-boos, band-aids and skinned knees. She remembers first days of school. And Brownie meetings. She remembers first boyfriends. First dates. A beautiful wedding gown purchased with her sewing money. She remembers seeing me pregnant. And two precious baby boys. She remembers. Those long-ago things.

What she no longer remembers is that now, I really am grown up. She can’t tell you what she ate for breakfast. Or that her own mother is no longer alive. She no longer remembers the everyday little things. Like what season this is. Much of the time, she lives in the past.

But like any mother….she still worries. I can walk into her room, on any given day, and she can read me as clearly as if my brain were totally transparent. Even when I try to hide things from her. But there are no more band-aids and kisses to make everything better.

She can still give the best hugs. And she does. More often now than ever before.

So whenever I enter her room at the assisted living facility that is now her home, I can pretend that I AM that little girl with the long curls and the patent leather shoes that she remembers. I can fall into her arms and feel the security and the unconditional love that only my mother can give. And I smile.

This won a Post of the Day Award at David's Authorblog. Thank you, David. I am very honored.

~Dancing With Mom~

Life was always a dance with her. A quick-step in the beginning of my life. She was always there. Standing firmly. Teaching me to take my first steps. She was there on my first day of kindergarten. Standing firmly. Waiting for me to come home. Always there.

Life became a fox-trot with the arrival of my two siblings. She was busier. The dance moved more quickly. There were carrots to peel, clothes to iron, pies to bake. She did it all. Always. She created a secure, happy childhood for her three children. Dancing quickly. Standing firmly.

She taught the three of us to dance quickly, too. Jitter-bugging our way through life. All three of us. Excelling. Striving for the best. Dancing faster and faster. Twirling and swirling our way with her watching us. Always. Ready to pick us up if we stumbled and fell. We faithfully followed her lead.

The dance took on a new rhythm when my brother, Dan, died. I didn’t think she’d ever dance again. And three months later, Dad passed away. Would any of us ever dance again? We did. The dance took on a meloncholy rhythm. A slow, sad two-step. Through broken bones. Surgeries. Chronic pain. Sometimes the dancing came to a halt. But it always began again. To much slower music.

Now with alzheimer’s riddling Mom’s body, the only way she can dance, is holding on to someone else. She barely hears the music anymore. You have to be very still to hear it. But it’s there.

So, I dance with her. Slowly. To a gentle, soft waltz. Swaying to the music. Lovingly. Still faithfully following her lead. Because, for now, it is as fast as she can dance. I am there for her. Standing firmly. Just like she was for me. Always.

This post won the Post Of the Day award at David's Authorblog.

~Black Abyss~

I HATE ALZHEIMER’S! Yes. I’m screaming. I HATE it and all it brings with it. HATE it. It’s a never-ending black abyss. A hole. One that leaves a void in your heart. And in a loved-one's brain.

The phone rang last nite at 6 pm. Mom’s number on the caller ID. Oh no. I had just seen her. She seldom calls. OH NO.

“Hello, Carol? I’m so glad you’re home. You know, I’m feeling so guilty. I haven’t spoken to Mom in a while, and I can’t find her number. Do you have it?”.

I gently remind her that her Mom, my Nona, passed away 32 years ago. When I was pregnant with Jeff.

Silence.

“You’re kidding!”

I reassure her that I’m not kidding. I would never do that. And I reassure her that she’s just very very tired. And that she just loves her Mother and wishes she was still here.

I wish my Mom was still here. The mom who taught me to ride a bike, how to sew, how to drive a car. The one who sewed til very late into the nite doing alterations so I could have piano lessons. The one who made all my clothes because there wasn't much money.The one who sent the three of us to college because she wanted the best for us. The mom who held my babies and cried. That one. I want her back.

For now, I will take the Mom she is now. The 'Imposter Mom'. The 'Child Mom'. The one I now have to 'mother'.

And I cry.

Please pray that they figure out what causes this dreadful abyss that is taking away people’s minds and making them into strangers to themselves and to those who love them.