Saturday, October 25, 2014

Batter Up ...Game 4

It is still hard to believe that the Kansas City Royals are in the World Series. We were so bad for so long. Twenty-nine years long.
Last time the boys in blue were playing top ball, I was in the hospital having Laurie. On October 22, 1985, she was born. Hot-shot pitcher Bret Saberhagen's wife was laboring with their first in a neighboring hospital. I do not have specific memories of the I-70 series, as I was a new mom and therefore distracted.
Now, though, it's baseball, baseball, baseball. Our city's fountains are spouting blue. Practically everyone is wearing baseball garb ... the mild October weather is perfect for T-shirts. Strangers in line at QuikTrip are still talking about that heart attack- inducing Wild Card game that sent us to the play-offs with the Los Angeles Anaheim Angels. We swept three games. Going up against the Baltimore Orioles, we swept four. Of course, we swept. We have players Butler and Dyson. LOL
And now here we are, competing in San Francisco, against the Giants. First game, we got spanked (7-1).
Second game, we won (7-2). Last night's full-count score was a sweet victory.
It is true to say that before each game I say a little prayer that our long-suffering baseball team and city will once again rise to the top.
It's been a long time coming.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Boys in Blue!

And the Kansas City Royals just swept the American League Division Series! Incredible ball playing, offensively and defensively. One, two, three games against the Los Angeles Angels. So proud of our boys!

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Elizabeth turns 23

On Friday, October 4, 1991, HAS and I welcomed our third child into the world. She came easily-- really, one push, and the labor and delivery was natural--no drugs--and she was born with a thatch of thick black hair, and dark-ish skin (why, she looked Hispanic, or Indian), and my first thought was, How did that happen? I am so white I repel the sun--but then I looked at her sun-tanned father,  he of German descent and progeny of proud Nebraska farmers--and then something glorious and profound happened: my brand-new baby opened her eyes and looked directly at me and smiled--I swear it was a smile-- my mother-in-law and husband witnessed it--and I knew at once she was mine and I was hers.
I am so in love with you, she told me, just last night, over her requested birthday dinner of live lobster (cooked), shrimp, boiled potatoes and corn, mint cheesecake for dessert (her sis made it: profanely delicious).
I am so in love with you, I said in return.
My Elizabeth, pictured here with my favorite son.
We looked directly at each other, twenty-three years after our initial contact.
She is mine, and I am hers.

On reading to your children

The Story of Ferdinand the Bull

Dad would come home after too long at work
and I'd sit on his lap to hear
the story of Ferdinand the Bull; every night,
me handing him the red book until I knew
every word, couldn't read,
just recite along with drawings
of a gentle bull, frustrated matadors,
the all-important bee, and flowers—
flowers in meadows and flowers
thrown by the Spanish ladies.
Its lesson, really,
about not being what you're born into
but what you're born to be,
even if that means
not caring about the capes they wave in your face
or the spears they cut into your shoulders.
And Dad, wonderful Dad, came home
after too long at work
and read to me
the same story every night
until I knew every word, couldn't read,
just recite.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Threading beads on a string ...

Doing housework is like threading beads on a string with no knot at the end. Never-effing-ending.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Ch-ch-ch-changes ...

Today I am redecorating my home office. It occurred to me while visiting a friend's handmade soap/vintage linens shop that I, too, could have the shabby chic look in at least one room in my house ~ without having to get my husband's permission. My office, then, is in transition. I've been spray painting much of the morning ~ small metal pieces, mostly, spraying them white. Already covered a favorite reading chair in white (a flat sheet, tucked in just so ...) ~ switching out brown and blue-striped curtain panels with breezy/gauzy ones. It's all starting to come together. And I am pleased. #smalljoys

Sunday, September 7, 2014

I really hate goodbyes

I always feel like I've been punched in the gut when one of the kids leaves ... back to school, back to Omaha, back to a midtown apartment.
This time, it's Ryan, my only son, my middle child, my sensitive boy, who's returning to MU after a short weekend stay. He's been home for the better part of a year, and now he's gone again. I know he has to leave; I know he loves academia; I just hate when the leaving part happens.
I am always a sappy, emotional sad-sack when I stand out in the driveway, waving, as one of the kids backs his or her car out. I think, Is this the last time I'm ever going to see my son? My daughter?
Mother worry takes over and suddenly the possibility of Any Crisis become a Very Real Possibility.
I worry about car wrecks and blown-out tires on the interstate. With my girls, I worry about abductions and assaults. I worry about my kids feeling lonely and homesick ...and I worry about me, 'cause I'm the one who feels lonely when the house grows quiet.