Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Knock. Knock.

Who's there?
Orange who?
Orange you glad I'm here?

These really are ugly flowers.

And, worse, in my mind, is that they are right beside an out-of-control wild grassy flower that has tiny brilliant pink flowers. And right behind those are bright yellow day lillies which smell wonderful but don't present well...

What I'm saying is that the overall look is hideous. (Hello? Orange, pink and yellow? Come on. Who planned this garden?) But taken one flower at a time, well, that's a different story, isn't it? Individually, first thing in the morning, these orange poppies have turned out to be quite photogenic.

You're wondering if I'm going to throw in a moral or deep thought to this posting, aren't you?

I'm just kinda thrilled that these photos, taken in 2 seconds when I was still mostly asleep this morning, turned out so vibrant and pleasing.
Do you remember my whine the other day about missing Clint? It's because it's weird to be his mother but to be all done with the mothering. It's kinda awful to go a full week without connecting. Part of my heart lives in Abbotsford now. And I have to call first to see it.
So, knowing that I have a stupidly busy week ahead of me, I took Max and Drew out to visit him yesterday. And am making every effort to make this transition in our mother-son relationship smooth and painless.
But oh my. Was I ever thrilled to receive his phone call while I was at work this morning.
"Mom?" A weak, raspy voice inquires.
"I've been throwing up since 3 this morning and I can't stop."
We're talking cell phone to cell phone and I misunderstand him. I thought he said he started setting up at 3 am and he couldn't stop. This middle-of-the-night-setting-up-business worried me. Did he have obsessive compulsive disorder? Did I need to get him tested? Because I would. I would get that diagnosed as soon as possible so that he could get help. No point struggling needlessly when help is available. Or was it job related? Was he expected to set up in the middle of the night? Did Clint need a break and they weren't letting him stop? Did I need to talk to someone, because, by cracky I would. I'd just taken on the vice principal at Max's school, and if I had to I'd take on that pastoral team at the church he was working at.
"No. Throwing up. I keep throwing up. Remember that time in Palm Springs? When I was sick almost the whole holiday? And I threw up mostly mucus? That's what this feels like. What's wrong with me?"
"You' ve got the flu."
"What does that mean? Do I have a fever"?
"Yes, you probably have a fever. You need to drink lots of water and juice and go back to bed."
"We don't have any juice..."

After work I picked up some groceries, some Tylenol, filled up with gas and hightailed it down the freeway to Be A Mom.
I was born for this.
Actually that's not true. I didn't have a maternal bone in my body til he was born.
S0 maybe it's better expressed thusly, Once he was born, I became this. This. This person who loves being a mom.
Anyway, after I opened some windows in his non-airconditioned 4th floor apartment, turned the ceiling fan on high, made him some toast, hydrated him with gator ade, put the other groceries away, gave him an ice-cubed face cloth to put on his burning forehead, I zipped back home, singing all the way, just in time to leave again.
Have you ever been to the SDB Annual Strawberry Tea? Oh my oh my oh my. What a great event. Fun fashion show. Talented musical guests. And a wonderful, warm, real, relevant, speaker who talked about messy hard lives.
But the best part? The very best part? Was getting together with friends from the land of long ago. My mom's two best friends and their daughters and me and my mom and Sandra, the surrogate daughter more like her than even me, all sat together. And had tea and nibblies on fine china. And visited. And caught up. And hugged a few times. And it was awesome.
I need to remember to do this. It will be harder because my sons are boys. I mean, my children are not girls. But I need to remember to make my kids' friends feel loved. Because they are. I care deeply for them now. And in 20, 30, 40 years, when we sit around having tea on fine china, (or rootbeer in tin cups) I want them to feel as loved as I did tonight by my mom's friends. Because that's an incredible feeling. To know that there are people from your past who care. Genuinely still give a rip after 4 decades.
Holy cow I've had a great life.
When I got home, I could see that one of the kids had locked the front door. Which is rare, usually it's unlocked, and often, slightly open. But tonight, someone had locked it. Which gives you a somewhat safer feeling, specially when you're getting home 'round midnight.
They left the key in the lock, mind you. But the thought was there.
The phone was ringing when I walked in.
"Mom" Drew's whispering.
"I have a head ache at the front by my left side. Just one spot. I don't know what to do..."
He's at his dad's house for night.
"Take an Advil or Tylenol, you'll feel better soon."
"Dad gave me an Advil I think. But what else should I do?"
"I'd get a face cloth and dampen it with cold water. Lay down and put the cloth on the sore spot. I bet you'll feel better in a few minutes."
"OK mom. See you tomorrow."
I am a mom. And I am loved. I am my mother's daughter. And I am loved.
Orange you glad I stayed up late to share that with you?
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. I think I'm all caught up with the urgent stuff at work.
2. People who share their lives openly.
3. My brother whose birthday it was today. And who is going to help me prepare the gym for Drew's grade 7 grad by bringing out and then picking up dad's new dune buggy as a photo op prop. Thanks, Jim. You're the best ...


ramblin'andie said...

I was the Strawberry tea too. That is a beautiful church.

Rebekah said...


You've inspired me to send a friend of mine three things I'm thankful for everyday. It is a great thing to go through the day and find three things to be thankful for. The hard thing is limiting it to just three. Thank you for that inspiration.