Jean snapped a photograph for me of a poster in the Bread and Roses Bakery in Yachats Oregon.
I give it to you here:
Why Cheap Art? manifesto
People have been thinking too long that
Art is a privilege of the museums and the rich.
Art is NOT business.
Art does not belong to banks and fancy investors.
Art is food.
You can't eat it but it feeds you.
Art has to be cheap and available to
EVERYBODY.
It needs to be everywhere
because it is the inside of the world.
Art soothes pain!
Art wakes up sleepers!
Art fights against war and stupidity!
Art sings Hallelujah!
Art is for kitchens!
ART IS LIKE GOOD BREAD!
Art is like green trees!
Art is like white clouds in blue sky!
Art is cheap!
Hurrah!
Bread and Puppet, Glover, Vermont, 1987
Thank you Jean for your kind service to me. Especially since I am not feeling kind. I was driving to Roger's and passed a marquee that said "The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts." And my thoughts have turned mean.
I had a car trying to pass me and I had nowhere to go. There were two lanes of traffic creeping up Mukilteo Speedway and I was stuck behind the car in front of me. Finally the person had the opportunity to whiz past me, blast forward, and cut back in. I noticed he saved himself seven seconds to get to the gas station. I know because I counted. I said we were creeping didn't I, and now that I am retired I have nothing else better to do but count seconds. This must be the absolute seven second rule. I hope you have all learned how important it is to save those seven seconds. Me, I think he was seven seconds closer to an exploding heart attack. Yep, feeling mean.
And crotchety. How did I get so old and crotchety? I was grumpy at that driver. I got bored waiting at the hospital. I was grumpy in traffic, in line, at a disappointing movie, at disappointing service, the bathroom is too far, the elevators too slow, at signs of ill will around me. Grumpy, crotchety me. Is this retirement?
Alan Greenspan, former Federal Reserve Chairman warns of impending global retirement crisis. Thanks Alan that is enough to make me grumpy.
However, it felt really fun getting up early, doing all my getting ready to go to work routine, vitamins, meds, yogurt and NOT going to work, but going to pick up Lynn and take her to the hospital instead. Another aspect of retirement.
Driving past Boeing and seeing planes destined for Angola, Turkey, Japan, China, United Kingdom, and a few others countries I couldn't catch the name of was fun.
Looking out the window at the area's gray sky and seeing off in the distance, under the cloud cover, the Sun gleaming on the Olympic Mountains.
Going to Flathead Lake with Mary, going to Hawaii with Janice, long days of sunshine, cheap art on the walls, Connor checking out my black stone turtle and informing me it was made out of obsidian, naps, taking Brittany border to border of both Washington AND Oregon, watching Brittany go all goo goo over dogs and fru fru drinks from any local barista, and seeing her put up with her old granny and that crotchety old aunt.
...and I am all a twitter over my Flathead Lake trip in eight hours.
All is not lost yet.
Friday, May 27, 2016
Friday, May 20, 2016
Oh, Myyy
Oh my!
It was a rolling holiday; wheels, hills, miles, and waves.
Five hundred mile power drive south, six hundred mile meander back.
Oh my, I am not as young as I used to be. The long haul was okay driving it, but when I tried to get out of the car and walk. Oh my.
Breakfast with Lynn at our favorite Patty's Egg Nest was a great start to an adventure. Driving I-5 we were wowed by Mount St Helen's, Portland, and my how Portland has changed in forty years. Miles and miles and miles of rose bushes lining the center median. Miles of rose bushes in bloom. Portland has some highways as scary as Dallas. Luckily on this trip we were just passing through all bug-eyed at the beauty, buildings, roses, rivers, bridges -- we will be back.
At a rest stop on the way to Roseberg a man tried to put his two dogs in the back seat of his car and was surprised to find Brittany sitting there. Well, Brittany was a mite surprised also even though she loves dogs. He sensed the error of his ways and backed off before he embarrassed himself too much.
In Roseberg we discovered Dutch Bros Coffee Hut and enjoyed our delicious coffee before continuing our southern run, before we realized Dutch Bros has a hut everywhere. Roseberg is where I woke up in the middle of the night and looked over at three lumps in three beds and christened us the three sleeping beauties. We laughed, talked and let Brittany ask all the stupid questions she wanted that usually Jean and I were too stupid to know the answer. I gotta get smarter before I travel with Brittany again.
Grant's Pass Oregon where I was going to go around the block to get a better angle for a photograph and wound up going the wrong way on a one way street and the whole damn town saw it. Cars and bikers were frantically waving their arms trying to get me to stop, and the guy in the gas station wagged his finger at me. No, not that finger, a friendly "you goofed" finger. I gassed up and got out of town fast. If you go to Grants Pass don't tell them you know me, I'm never going back.
On towards the Redwood Highway. Oh my, that is a scenic highway worth "oh my-ing." It drops 1900 feet in its twisty, turny, cliffy, rocky, eighty-nine miles to the sea. We wandered through the Redwoods Jedediah Smith State Park and whispered it was so quiet, church like, serene, and ethereal. Brittany took some stunning photographs. Our California portion ended at Perlita's with a mediocre lunch and The Java Hut with a fantastic "oh my" berrilicious drink. I think Brittany had a Milk and Cookies Frappe. Me? I always get the same boring latte.
California cruising, Oregon strolling.
Finally we are started up the Oregon coast. The point of the whole trip. There are many little scenic overlooks. Many many many scenic overlooks. Oh my. And we saw them all except for the ones you needed four-wheel drive to get down, or up as the case may be. We gaped at the Sebastian overlook. Saw a uni-cycle climbing the hills out in the middle of nowhere. Had ice cream in Port Orford. Admired houses, bays, boats, sky, water, rocks, forest, oh my-ing the whole distance.
Our biggest surprise was happening upon the tall ships in Coos Bay. There they were, there was a parking spot along the hellaciously busy highway, and there we were gawking. Jean says, "I think they are getting ready to sail," and they were, so we gawked some more, Brittany got some more great photographs. Oh my, you don't often get to see two tall ships sail away.
Gold Beach -- seals, Bandon -- old town, Yachats -- Bread and Roses Bakery, dunes -- everywhere. At one too sudden stop to let some fast cars pass me by Jean saw a big yawning hole and thought her life was ending, or at least going to be damaged. I'm not sure she has forgiven me yet. However, I stopped, the cars passed, and we continued on our gentle way to Florence and spent the night at the magnificent Driftwood Shores Resort. That place would mellow out anyone.
Brittany found it via her smartphone skills, it was miles off Highway 101, and we all fell in love. I commented how I now had a $200.00 dollar a day habit. Just feet to the beach, we listened to the surf all night long. Is there a sound anywhere more soothing? Brittany said even the roll-a-way bed was fantastic. Florence is where we saw the mama and her baby ducks cross the road, where we had the legendary Abby's Pizza. Good? yes. Legendary, maybe not so. This is where I saw a toilet where you could choose full or half flush. Oh my, never saw that before. I live such a tiny life.
It was a trip to remember; bicyclers, hikers, and sculptures of seals, seagulls, bears, kissing bears, Sasquatch, caveman, more bears, and more.
Oh my food; berrilicious, myvithra, saganaki, oh my. Oregon hazelnut salted caramel ice cream at Tillamook, Marion-berry Pie, Caramel Crunch coffee. Oh my stuff; Seaside goofiness, Cannon Beach's haystack sea stack.
The Pasta Amore or Perlitas Huaraches or Canada in general not so much "Oh My." In Canada I got lost, turned around, misplaced a highway, stuck in a residential area, starved, twisted and finally talked to another driver in a belligerent tone much to Jean's delight. Yep, I'm getting too old for some adventures.
Starting at Spuds and just about ending with Ivar's for ice cream five days later. It was a fun run.
Back to the Oregon coast; lots of fog, mist, rain, dreamy vistas around practically every curve in the road. We passed through rose territory, sheep territory, farming, logging, boating, beaches, dunes, vistas, redwoods, the kind of Coastal Road that dreams are made of.
Oh my it was a trip.
It was a rolling holiday; wheels, hills, miles, and waves.
Five hundred mile power drive south, six hundred mile meander back.
Oh my, I am not as young as I used to be. The long haul was okay driving it, but when I tried to get out of the car and walk. Oh my.
Breakfast with Lynn at our favorite Patty's Egg Nest was a great start to an adventure. Driving I-5 we were wowed by Mount St Helen's, Portland, and my how Portland has changed in forty years. Miles and miles and miles of rose bushes lining the center median. Miles of rose bushes in bloom. Portland has some highways as scary as Dallas. Luckily on this trip we were just passing through all bug-eyed at the beauty, buildings, roses, rivers, bridges -- we will be back.
At a rest stop on the way to Roseberg a man tried to put his two dogs in the back seat of his car and was surprised to find Brittany sitting there. Well, Brittany was a mite surprised also even though she loves dogs. He sensed the error of his ways and backed off before he embarrassed himself too much.
In Roseberg we discovered Dutch Bros Coffee Hut and enjoyed our delicious coffee before continuing our southern run, before we realized Dutch Bros has a hut everywhere. Roseberg is where I woke up in the middle of the night and looked over at three lumps in three beds and christened us the three sleeping beauties. We laughed, talked and let Brittany ask all the stupid questions she wanted that usually Jean and I were too stupid to know the answer. I gotta get smarter before I travel with Brittany again.
Grant's Pass Oregon where I was going to go around the block to get a better angle for a photograph and wound up going the wrong way on a one way street and the whole damn town saw it. Cars and bikers were frantically waving their arms trying to get me to stop, and the guy in the gas station wagged his finger at me. No, not that finger, a friendly "you goofed" finger. I gassed up and got out of town fast. If you go to Grants Pass don't tell them you know me, I'm never going back.
On towards the Redwood Highway. Oh my, that is a scenic highway worth "oh my-ing." It drops 1900 feet in its twisty, turny, cliffy, rocky, eighty-nine miles to the sea. We wandered through the Redwoods Jedediah Smith State Park and whispered it was so quiet, church like, serene, and ethereal. Brittany took some stunning photographs. Our California portion ended at Perlita's with a mediocre lunch and The Java Hut with a fantastic "oh my" berrilicious drink. I think Brittany had a Milk and Cookies Frappe. Me? I always get the same boring latte.
California cruising, Oregon strolling.
Finally we are started up the Oregon coast. The point of the whole trip. There are many little scenic overlooks. Many many many scenic overlooks. Oh my. And we saw them all except for the ones you needed four-wheel drive to get down, or up as the case may be. We gaped at the Sebastian overlook. Saw a uni-cycle climbing the hills out in the middle of nowhere. Had ice cream in Port Orford. Admired houses, bays, boats, sky, water, rocks, forest, oh my-ing the whole distance.
Our biggest surprise was happening upon the tall ships in Coos Bay. There they were, there was a parking spot along the hellaciously busy highway, and there we were gawking. Jean says, "I think they are getting ready to sail," and they were, so we gawked some more, Brittany got some more great photographs. Oh my, you don't often get to see two tall ships sail away.
Gold Beach -- seals, Bandon -- old town, Yachats -- Bread and Roses Bakery, dunes -- everywhere. At one too sudden stop to let some fast cars pass me by Jean saw a big yawning hole and thought her life was ending, or at least going to be damaged. I'm not sure she has forgiven me yet. However, I stopped, the cars passed, and we continued on our gentle way to Florence and spent the night at the magnificent Driftwood Shores Resort. That place would mellow out anyone.
Brittany found it via her smartphone skills, it was miles off Highway 101, and we all fell in love. I commented how I now had a $200.00 dollar a day habit. Just feet to the beach, we listened to the surf all night long. Is there a sound anywhere more soothing? Brittany said even the roll-a-way bed was fantastic. Florence is where we saw the mama and her baby ducks cross the road, where we had the legendary Abby's Pizza. Good? yes. Legendary, maybe not so. This is where I saw a toilet where you could choose full or half flush. Oh my, never saw that before. I live such a tiny life.
It was a trip to remember; bicyclers, hikers, and sculptures of seals, seagulls, bears, kissing bears, Sasquatch, caveman, more bears, and more.
Oh my food; berrilicious, myvithra, saganaki, oh my. Oregon hazelnut salted caramel ice cream at Tillamook, Marion-berry Pie, Caramel Crunch coffee. Oh my stuff; Seaside goofiness, Cannon Beach's haystack sea stack.
The Pasta Amore or Perlitas Huaraches or Canada in general not so much "Oh My." In Canada I got lost, turned around, misplaced a highway, stuck in a residential area, starved, twisted and finally talked to another driver in a belligerent tone much to Jean's delight. Yep, I'm getting too old for some adventures.
Starting at Spuds and just about ending with Ivar's for ice cream five days later. It was a fun run.
Oh my it was a trip.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Jean and Brittany, are your bags packed?
First of all I want to apologize to Jason. On April 29th, on this blog, I wrote Summer was mourning her grandmother. I'm sorry Jason, I know you were mourning her also. I don't know how I made such and embarrassing omission. Your grandmother was a lovely woman, fun, enthusiastic, and generous. It was a pleasure to have known her.
Second I want to wish Chris a happy, happy birthday. I already wished Christian Happy B-Day, but he never pays any attention.
There are several things I did, some I need to do, and some I won't do before Jean and Brittany arrive tomorrow.
Done;
Extra coffee and toilet paper -- check.
Grocery run -- check.
Bathroom cleaned -- check
Maps at the ready -- check.
Cooked some food Brittany will love; beets, turnips, carrots, all her favorites.
Need to do:
Make an extra bed.
Wire up the air conditioner.
Plan a breakfast with friends.
Print off travel itinerary.
Run dishwasher.
Plan a meet and greet with The Connorman, and my son, what's his name.
Won't do:
Dust living room.
Dust computer area.
Dust bedroom.
They be coming and I am excited. For those of you I haven't blabbed to we have two excursions planned. A power drive to California to see the redwoods and let Brittany step onto Oregon soil. She wants to add another state to her life time travel list.
And, drive to Canada so Brittany can become an international traveler. Don't you know she has a pass port now? We were going to take the train, but since she has decided to go look/see that evil Capilano swinging bridge we will be driving. To the bridge NOT on it. Thank God it is a pedestrian bridge. We will also try to fit in the Sky Train and the Seabus. Here's hoping.
It is always so much fun to anticipate and plan for company. Jean and I have had many successful adventures during the last 20 years. Brittany? Not so many. This one is for you Brittany. So "gird your loins" and let us get ready for some travel. By the by, unless you bring it with you there will be no Randy Rogers or what ever his name is. I could probably fine classical music on NPR, but that would be about it.
Since you are visiting your fat old aunt you don't have to worry about being cute, sexy, or appealing. You won't have to worry about getting to work on time or lasting the full eight hours. You won't have to worry about work lunches, gas for your car, or letting Dax out and in. You might have to do some heavy lifting for your granny and fat old aunt, but not too much. You know, suitcases in and out of the trunk and making sure we don't walk off and leave our canes anywhere.
If we have time Jean at the tailend of the Oregon drive I'll take you to The Cottage Bakery in Long Beach for some Sailor Jacks.
So Brittany, pack your boots and flipflops and I'll see you tomorrow.
Who is coming next? I am retired you know.
From my friend Mary -- thanks Mary.
Second I want to wish Chris a happy, happy birthday. I already wished Christian Happy B-Day, but he never pays any attention.
There are several things I did, some I need to do, and some I won't do before Jean and Brittany arrive tomorrow.
Done;
Extra coffee and toilet paper -- check.
Grocery run -- check.
Bathroom cleaned -- check
Maps at the ready -- check.
Cooked some food Brittany will love; beets, turnips, carrots, all her favorites.
Need to do:
Make an extra bed.
Wire up the air conditioner.
Plan a breakfast with friends.
Print off travel itinerary.
Run dishwasher.
Plan a meet and greet with The Connorman, and my son, what's his name.
Won't do:
Dust living room.
Dust computer area.
Dust bedroom.
They be coming and I am excited. For those of you I haven't blabbed to we have two excursions planned. A power drive to California to see the redwoods and let Brittany step onto Oregon soil. She wants to add another state to her life time travel list.
And, drive to Canada so Brittany can become an international traveler. Don't you know she has a pass port now? We were going to take the train, but since she has decided to go look/see that evil Capilano swinging bridge we will be driving. To the bridge NOT on it. Thank God it is a pedestrian bridge. We will also try to fit in the Sky Train and the Seabus. Here's hoping.
It is always so much fun to anticipate and plan for company. Jean and I have had many successful adventures during the last 20 years. Brittany? Not so many. This one is for you Brittany. So "gird your loins" and let us get ready for some travel. By the by, unless you bring it with you there will be no Randy Rogers or what ever his name is. I could probably fine classical music on NPR, but that would be about it.
Since you are visiting your fat old aunt you don't have to worry about being cute, sexy, or appealing. You won't have to worry about getting to work on time or lasting the full eight hours. You won't have to worry about work lunches, gas for your car, or letting Dax out and in. You might have to do some heavy lifting for your granny and fat old aunt, but not too much. You know, suitcases in and out of the trunk and making sure we don't walk off and leave our canes anywhere.
If we have time Jean at the tailend of the Oregon drive I'll take you to The Cottage Bakery in Long Beach for some Sailor Jacks.
So Brittany, pack your boots and flipflops and I'll see you tomorrow.
Who is coming next? I am retired you know.
From my friend Mary -- thanks Mary.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
The Stuff of Mothers'
Mothering? It's an exotic job.
Mother's Day? What a gentle loving sentimental holiday. Dewy roses, soft pastels, wispy angels, creamy chocolates, glitter and butterflies, soaring with visions of maternal love and affection. Trying to shine our deep and profound feelings towards our mothers, to show our gratitude for life.
Mothers, from the oldest to the newest and all the lovely mothers in-between. Mothers aging, growing, worrying, fending. Mothers memories, moments, care -- soup, crayolas, teas, tantrums. We do it all.
Driving for miles to sit on hard bleachers when it is too hot or too cold, uncomfortable camp chairs on wet fields. Lugging treats to school, forgotten homework, jackets, emergency projects. Urging the child on after crushing defeats, cautioning nobility after magnificent wins.
Sewed shoes, designed skateboards, spending time to get the grip tape on in a wild pattern. I did that. Driving kids to parks, swim lessons, fencing lessons, dance lessons. Baking cookies, cupcakes, clay, Shrinky Dinks. I did that.
The stuff of mothers.
Finding stuff; gloves, shoes.
Washing stuff: gloves, shoes.
Building stuff: science projects, indoor forts.
Tickling, kissing, taking temperatures, dispensing medicine.
Waiting: doctor offices, after school dances, lessons, church, birthday parties, sports events.
Feeding stuff; fish, cats, dogs, kids.
Admiring stuff everything from dead mice or snakes to broken bone casts.
Providing stuff from computers to cars.
Teaching stuff from driving, cooking, tying shoe laces, how to hang up a towel or cut up a chicken. Look both ways,
Wiping stuff: snotty noses, bleeding lips, messy bottoms, dirty hands.
Squishing stuff: spiders, mosquitoes, bananas, glue, clay.
Cleaning stuff: cages, fish bowls, dog poop, kid vomit.
Vacuuming stuff: cat hair, dog hair, kid hair when they decide to cut their own bangs or their brothers.
Stepping on stuff: Legos, action figures.
Tripping over stuff: balls, dolls, bikes.
Sweeping stuff: sand, leaves, dirt, spills.
Catching stuff: snakes, toads, snails.
Throwing away stuff: old toys, blankets, week old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that somehow got left in the pocket of their jeans.
Cooking stuff: cooking food kids don't like.
Taking them places they don't want to go.
Buying them clothes they won't wear.
Hurting their heads when you comb it, especially if you are combing out glue, wax, peanut butter, gum.
Letting them fall off a bike, get hit with a ball, get hurt by a dentist. Letting them swim, climb, jump, fail, and fall in love. Then wiping up the blood, tears, dirt, sweat and washing out the stains. Putting the broken heart pieces back one tear at a time.
Watching them fail and fail and fail and try again.
Encouraging them when there is no other solution.
The hard hand stuff: What is sex? My teacher doesn't like me. Why learn the times table? So and so keeps picking on me. I can't do it. I don't feel good.
Stand still for photographs.
Kiss grandma.
Say please and thank you.
Get away from: the aggressive dog, broken glass, the abyss that called them all.
Don't drip: snow-cones, popsicles, bar-b-que sauce, ketchup, ice cream, watermelon juice.
Wiping up what dripped.
Washing what was dripped upon.
Handing out another ice cream cone.
Getting over stuff: "You did WHAT?" "You went WHERE?"
Bath.
Brush your teeth.
Wash your hands.
Use condoms.
Pay your bills.
Study.
Finish your homework.
Be home by midnight.
Don't drink and drive.
Oh the tears we have caused.
All the "nos" we have said.
All the explaining, explaining, explaining.
All the waiting, waiting, waiting we have done.
As a mother working or staying at home you knew you were doing it wrong. Mothers and mothering comes in all shapes and sizes, but we never seemed to be quite the right fit.
We spent much of our youth mending, sewing, patching, gluing, finding, cooking, working, mixing, bathing, fixing, wiping, washing, driving, waiting, nursing, hugging, kissing. All because of this child with sticky kisses and dirty hands.
Good job mothers' everywhere, good job.
And they love us anyway!
My favorite mother quote:
Life is the first gift, love is the second, understanding is the third.
I survived being a mother.
Mother's Day? What a gentle loving sentimental holiday. Dewy roses, soft pastels, wispy angels, creamy chocolates, glitter and butterflies, soaring with visions of maternal love and affection. Trying to shine our deep and profound feelings towards our mothers, to show our gratitude for life.
Mothers, from the oldest to the newest and all the lovely mothers in-between. Mothers aging, growing, worrying, fending. Mothers memories, moments, care -- soup, crayolas, teas, tantrums. We do it all.
Driving for miles to sit on hard bleachers when it is too hot or too cold, uncomfortable camp chairs on wet fields. Lugging treats to school, forgotten homework, jackets, emergency projects. Urging the child on after crushing defeats, cautioning nobility after magnificent wins.
Sewed shoes, designed skateboards, spending time to get the grip tape on in a wild pattern. I did that. Driving kids to parks, swim lessons, fencing lessons, dance lessons. Baking cookies, cupcakes, clay, Shrinky Dinks. I did that.
The stuff of mothers.
Finding stuff; gloves, shoes.
Washing stuff: gloves, shoes.
Building stuff: science projects, indoor forts.
Tickling, kissing, taking temperatures, dispensing medicine.
Waiting: doctor offices, after school dances, lessons, church, birthday parties, sports events.
Feeding stuff; fish, cats, dogs, kids.
Admiring stuff everything from dead mice or snakes to broken bone casts.
Providing stuff from computers to cars.
Teaching stuff from driving, cooking, tying shoe laces, how to hang up a towel or cut up a chicken. Look both ways,
Wiping stuff: snotty noses, bleeding lips, messy bottoms, dirty hands.
Squishing stuff: spiders, mosquitoes, bananas, glue, clay.
Cleaning stuff: cages, fish bowls, dog poop, kid vomit.
Vacuuming stuff: cat hair, dog hair, kid hair when they decide to cut their own bangs or their brothers.
Stepping on stuff: Legos, action figures.
Tripping over stuff: balls, dolls, bikes.
Sweeping stuff: sand, leaves, dirt, spills.
Catching stuff: snakes, toads, snails.
Throwing away stuff: old toys, blankets, week old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that somehow got left in the pocket of their jeans.
Cooking stuff: cooking food kids don't like.
Taking them places they don't want to go.
Buying them clothes they won't wear.
Hurting their heads when you comb it, especially if you are combing out glue, wax, peanut butter, gum.
Letting them fall off a bike, get hit with a ball, get hurt by a dentist. Letting them swim, climb, jump, fail, and fall in love. Then wiping up the blood, tears, dirt, sweat and washing out the stains. Putting the broken heart pieces back one tear at a time.
Watching them fail and fail and fail and try again.
Encouraging them when there is no other solution.
The hard hand stuff: What is sex? My teacher doesn't like me. Why learn the times table? So and so keeps picking on me. I can't do it. I don't feel good.
Stand still for photographs.
Kiss grandma.
Say please and thank you.
Get away from: the aggressive dog, broken glass, the abyss that called them all.
Don't drip: snow-cones, popsicles, bar-b-que sauce, ketchup, ice cream, watermelon juice.
Wiping up what dripped.
Washing what was dripped upon.
Handing out another ice cream cone.
Getting over stuff: "You did WHAT?" "You went WHERE?"
Bath.
Brush your teeth.
Wash your hands.
Use condoms.
Pay your bills.
Study.
Finish your homework.
Be home by midnight.
Don't drink and drive.
Oh the tears we have caused.
All the "nos" we have said.
All the explaining, explaining, explaining.
All the waiting, waiting, waiting we have done.
As a mother working or staying at home you knew you were doing it wrong. Mothers and mothering comes in all shapes and sizes, but we never seemed to be quite the right fit.
We spent much of our youth mending, sewing, patching, gluing, finding, cooking, working, mixing, bathing, fixing, wiping, washing, driving, waiting, nursing, hugging, kissing. All because of this child with sticky kisses and dirty hands.
Good job mothers' everywhere, good job.
And they love us anyway!
My favorite mother quote:
Life is the first gift, love is the second, understanding is the third.
I survived being a mother.
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