Wishing to hear those words - memories of mom- Watch out for the 'mother's curse'

On of the very few bridal
pics from my mom's wedding

I sit here at the table, surrounded by items, items that I know would make my mom smile. If she were here, I'd also see her visibly biting her tongue, cheek, and then lips in an attempt to keep the words, "I told you so" from coming out of her mouth.

Right now, today, I'd take those words.  I'd take them with a hug, a huge giant, never letting go hug.  The type of hug that you give to your loved ones that you haven't seen in ages.  Or the hug after someone returns from danger, where you weren't sure they would return alive.  That type of hug, is the type that I'd wrap my mother in just to hear those words uttered in love from her mouth.

Light Pink and lime stripes
with island themed curtains.

My darling creative little girl, has taken her artistic abilities and has decided to apply them towards re-decorating her room and painting her walls.  Now let me tell you that this is not the first time this year, or summer, that she has painted her room.

A couple of months ago, I came home from work to find two little busy bees downstairs in her room. I opened the door to see the wall covered in blue painters tape taped in horizontal stripes, the giant painting tarp on the floor covering the carpet, and two girls with paint dotted hands and arms applying a new coat of found paint to the walls.  I look at the progress they had made, laughed and shut the door.  Letting the two girls finish their art project.

Minty green walls with yellow circles

Well, with how much fun Ireland had in painting and decorating a few months ago, she's decided to re-do her room - again - this time in an island theme.  She decided to use a theme with colors that we don't have in stock (or house).  Besides, all the left over paint has already been used on her first paint job.  This time around we decided that she'll need to pay for her room make-over her self.

With all her creative juices flowing from her mind to her hand, she drew pictures of what she wants to do with her room.  She took all her hard earned money and bought the blue corduroy bean bag (which the darn cat promptly peed on), and new paint colors for her room.  She then bought the material to make curtains for her closet, her closet that has a perfectly fine working door, which was promptly removed when the design was written down.

Fun island print fabric (notice the
great stitching - thanks mom)

She choose a fun island flower material that would work perfect for her new decor.  One problem with this new 'door' it required me to dig deep in my arsenal of education from my mom to remember how to sew curtains...

For those that didn't know my mother, she was an accomplished professional sewer.  She could, if she so desired, sew up an entire new wardrobe for my sister and myself in less then a day.  My mother owned the highest quality sewing machines money could buy, she had one all purpose Bernina sewing machine, and at least 2 Surgers.  My mother had such a passion for sewing (that quite often went unused), that she turned her passion into hoarding, for she had enough material tucked away in boxes to open her own sewing store!

When I was around 8 years old, I remember my mom making me sit down at her sewing machine and practice sewing.  No, not like you think.  She'd make me sew on a lined paper with out thread in the machine so I could perfect sewing in a straight line.  Oh, how I detested this!  I usually ended up distracted, daydreaming and have rows of waves, just like the rolling ocean, all over my 'practice' paper.

I just wanted to have a project to work on, not perfect any type of skills!  As time, I swear it was over the course of an entire year, my mom slowly transitioned me from lined paper to unlined paper, then to strips of  fabric.  Not fabric cut out in any shape, but squares of fabric for me to practice sewing in a straight line.  Once I had this 'skill' mastered, I was then finally able to learn how to read a pattern.  Good lord, all I wanted was for her to just show me how to do it and then let me loose!  I didn't care what all the darts, lines, and dots meant.  Just let me cut!

After much attitude, from me, my mom finally let me loose on my own.  Well, I don't know if she really let me loose, I think it was one of those moments when I asked dad instead of mom to finish the bermuda shorts I was sewing.  Dad, not really awake, (which by the way, I learned I could always get my way if I asked my dad a question while he was sleeping) told me sure go ahead and finish your shorts.  So to town I went.

I sewed my shorts,  finishing them all by myself.  I did lack the verbal or written instructions on how to sew the crotch area of the two legs together. Ahh, but that didn't matter, I still finished them.  Boy did they look great!  However, they felt a little bulky in the crotch area, and for some reason they rid high on the inside of my legs.  Unlike 'normal' shorts with a straight bottom seam, my shorts had a bottom seam that was hemmed upwards from the outside of my leg to the inside.

In adolescent cockiness, I didn't care.  I wore those shorts all day long, tugging and pulling on the inside to keep them from clumping too much between my legs and rubbing them raw.

As soon as I saw my mother's car pull in the drive way, I ran, with my bulky inseam, bull-legged towards her.  As I got closer, I saw my mother's expressionless face slowly, ever so slowly turn confused, then straight into laughter (this by the way didn't happen often).  By the time I ran my bull legged self to tell her about my shorts that I just finished, she was laughing - laughing harder then I've ever heard her laugh.

My face quickly dropped from an excited accomplishment, to fear.  My mother has lost her mind, and I'm in direct aim of her craziness.  I stood in front of my laughing mother, waiting for the right moment to show off my shorts.  Between laughing gasps, she slowly gets the following words out. How. hahaha. Did. hahha. You. hahaha. Finish. hahah. Those. snort. hahah. Shorts? hahah, tears, and snort.

Fear racing through my head, the thought of 'what in the world is going on with my mom'?

I stammered to respond. I explained to her that I followed her instructions, and finished my shorts.  I continued on that since I didn't know how to sew the inseam and crotch area, I just connected them and sewed them together in a circle.

At this point, the neighbors, in confusion and wonder as to what has happened to my mother, start coming outside and staring at the two of us in the drive way.  I'm standing there tugging at the inside of my shorts, my streaky brown hair blowing in the evening wind, my brace covered smile slowly dropping, and these damn shorts still clumping up in the inseam.  Oh, if only my mother had a camera, the sight of me in front of her would be worth a million. Her stubborn, impatient, brace covered, short tugging, innocent, confused teenage daughter staring at her.

My mother slowly, ever so slowly, starts to get a grip on her snorting and asks how long I've worn those shorts?  In proud embarrassment I reply, "All day."

She then tries to keep her laughter at bay while asking me, "Did the inseam and crotch area feel a bit clumpy?"

Shifting my weight from side to side, trying to hide the need to tug at the inside of my shorts, I say, "No."  Now I didn't say no out of really not knowing, but rather from pride of not acknowledging that I may not really have known what I was doing.

The finished curtains for my daughter's closet

My mom then takes me inside where she tutors me on the inseam sewing of my shorts.  I learned that rather then gathering the two inside legs together and sewing them together in a circle, you actually sew the crotch together in a straight line.  Yes, those damn straight lines.

Later that evening, my mother later took those bulky inseam shorts and hung them on the dining room wall, like fine art.  Hung up there as a reminder of that 'hilarious' day when I refused to be patient and learn from the master.   Yes, my 'fine' art displayed for all to see and then hear the lesson I learned in those shorts.

For the next several years, I learned to take her slow instructions in stride.  Not ask my dad for permission to sew.  Later on the rule came into play that I'm not allowed to ask Dad for anything while he's sleeping.  (I think that rule came about when I asked to use the car, and I didn't have a license. Of course I got caught by my mother.)

Margaret Ann Grange on her
last birthday 2/3/00

So here I sit 12 years after my mom's death, wishing I'd hear those words from her mouth  'I told you Christel, one day you'll be glad  I made you learn to sew straight!'

'Yes mom, I am glad.  I'm also glad that I got to hear and remember your laughter, even if it the time I didn't find the humor in the situation.  Thirty years later, I find it just as humors as you did, possibly a bit more.  For I have a daughter just like me who too asked her dad if she could finish sewing her curtains on her own.  While working on them she accidentally jammed the machine and pretend it wasn't her (oh how the mother's curse comes true - I only wish you were here to watch it unfold.)

Thank you mom, you were right.

My Baby's Growing Up and I'm Not Coping So Well...

Ireland at the Yankee's game, she lost her first tooth there too.

This past month or so, my daughter and her friend (who loves to clean and de-junk, odd I know) decided to clean out Ireland's play room.  All the stuff that they thought she was 'too old' for, was quickly removed.  Bags and bags of stuff kept coming up from downstairs with the words 'donate' written across them.  I had no idea there was that much stuff down there!

The bags were piled high in the garage, so high in fact that we officially lost the north wall!  We decided to keep the bags there for a few days so we could go through them and double check that she wasn't getting rid of things she shouldn't be, and to give her a chance to re-claim anything she has second thoughts about.

A few weeks go by, before we decide to go through the bags.  We open the first bag, filled to the brim with stuffed animals!  Kyle starts pulling out the animals, he notices one in particular and holds it out.  It was one of her first Build a Bear animals - yeah, you know the kind; the hundred dollar, pull at your wallet strings stuffed animal.  He holds it up high for our daughter to see, and asks 'Are you sure?'

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures 'I Can't Suck'

The other evening my daughter was laying in my bed, on my side no less.  Eating what looked like a homemade frozen pop.

I asked her to eat her food on the floor. She causally said she wasn't eating (technically she's right).  I then asked her to suck on the floor.  

She calmly looks at me and says, "Mom, I can't suck, I'm too awesome!"

Now if only all adults, and children, would embrace this awesomeness attitude, we'd all be living the life we were meant to live.



Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me.  Most importantly they help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

Brilliant Ideas, Fireworks, and Rattlesnakes!

July, 4th, America's birthday.  A day spent with family, friends, and watching fireworks amongst strangers sprawled out under the night sky with a blanket claiming your spot, and another blanket claiming another family's next to you, and then another, and another, and another, and so forth.  As you turn and look in all four directions of your blanket, you realize you are surrounded by a sea of blankets - and you can't get out!

To battle against this elbow to elbow sea of blankets, we decided to hike up to Half Moon Rock and watch the fireworks.   It'd be perfect!  We'd have the best view around.  We'd have the entire valley before us, we would see firework displays from Farmington to Pleasant View to West Haven, as well illegal ones too. Best of all, we'd be the only ones around - bonus!


We began our hike at dusk. The weather was just about perfect. The sun's rays weren't beating down, heating the trail as well as our bodies, a steady whispering wind attempted to keep us cool, there was just enough light at this point that we didn't need our headlamps. Ahh it's a magical time of day.

In our sweat induced exhaustion we'd stop every few steps to catch a glimpse of the valley below us. Then one of us would try to convince the others that this resting spot would be perfect, there's no need to go further up.  However, we knew that the view awaiting us would be unbelievable from atop the jutted rock.

We continue on the double wide trail until we reach the bottom of Half Moon Rock.  In order to get on top of Half Moon Rock, one needs to climb the steeper (I swear it's 90 degrees straight up) single trek trail that is rutted with loose slippery stone.  You have to decide to climb in the slippery stone rut with it's multiple roots to help you, or you take the top of the rut where there's no roots to help you get your footing as well as no rocks to take you on a ride right back down!  We decided to take the rut, it looked to be easier in allowing us to start and stop as many times as we'd need to.

Super Shep, that's our dog, is leading the way right up the side of the rock.  I'm right behind him, followed by my husband, and then our daughter (who is such a champ to keep going when it's late and her legs hurt).  I'm slowly placing one heavy lead filled foot in front of the other, when I swear on my mother's grave, Shep stands up on his back two paws and jumps backwards and is standing next to me!

In astonishment, I look up to see what's going on with Shep (I think he may have still been on his two hind paws).  What do I see about 5 feet right in front of me!  The BIGGEST rattle snake (partially coiled up and shaking his rattler in anger) that I've ever encountered in the wild!  I grab Shep, who may have finally got back down on all 4 paws, and quickly walk away backwards.  Now mind you this isn't the type of trail that you could go down backwards, but somehow I did.  As I'm magically stepping backwards, I'm loudly cautioning - 'Rattler straight ahead!'

At this advantage point we are about 20 feet away.
Notice the snake on the right of the trail.
Take a look at the slick ravine in the middle - that'll be important later.

My brave girl, in disbelief, stops dead in her track. Then her nature loving inquiry takes over as she moves forward a bit to take a closer look. For fear of her turning into rattler food , my husband and I sternly tell her go back where she was.

The various other times that I've ran into a rattler, they usually move along once they know they aren't in danger. Then I'm able to also move along when I know I'm no longer in danger as well. It's nature's win -win.

We wait for the giant rattler to move along so we could pass and take our position on top of the rock. Nope, not a chance. This huge sucker just freakin laid there like, 'this is my trail - go get your own'. We waited for a few minutes longer hoping he'd change his mind - nope he's still claiming it.

Here's the same view point, just a close up of the HUGE snake

In my brilliance, I thought I'd try to startle the rattler back off of the trail. I started to throw small rocks close to it to get it move away. Nope didn't faze him, he didn't even slither his tongue at us. I then decided that those rocks must've been too small, so I got me some bigger ones to throw close to him. Still didn't bother him! Well if one rock doesn't do the trick, then more rocks that land in the bushes next to him otta work (see how close those buses are)! I then grabbed three big rocks, and threw them into the bushes right next to him - Yep that did it!

Suddenly, without any warning this huge ass snake is slipping down the slippery rocks in the ravine - and he's ANGRY! He's shaking his rattler, and on a collision course with Super Shep and I.  I see the snake slipping out of control, over rocks, bringing a rock slide of rocks with him (check out the ravine on the 1st pic). He can't get a grip onto anything, which just makes him madder, and boy is he BIG!

I scream, "He's coming down - go!"

Super Shep takes to running like he's full of grace and can maneuver over and around anything. [Have I mentioned this dog quite often misses steps at home, falls on his face, or runs into the wall full force? It's rather entertaining to watch!] Shep, in his new found grace, leaves me in the dust as if to say, 'hehe you're gonna be snake food, not me'!

Super Shep maneuvers his way right to down to Ireland.  In her fear, she grabs a hold of him - and off they go!  In super flash speed and grace, Super Shep whisks her down the steep slope.  If I were a bettin gal, which I am, I'd bet you all that Super Shep carried Ireland saddle style down on his back to safety!

Here we are, in safety, with Super
Shep peeking between us as we
wait for the fireworks to start.

Once down the steep hill, we decided, unanimously, that one of those nice flat spots we saw earlier down the trail would be just perfect to watch the fireworks from.

Just in case you were wondering, we all made it back home, including Super Shep with out being bitten!  Here's some great pics of the valley and the fireworks that we saw.

What a view!
This pic is of North Ogden's fireworks

In retrospect, I think next time I run into a rattler on top of a slide, or steep slope, I'm not gonna  throw rocks at it when I'm waiting at the bottom. I think I'll just let him have the slide. :)

This pic is cool cause you can see
two different cities' fireworks
at the same time

This is the very next shot where
both cities are on display

The 'F' Word at the Hicks House - Where once was a mathematical problem, now sits a bowl of number soup.

Since the birth of Ireland's school days, she has struggled to comprehend math. She has an internal struggle between her true self and the skills needed for math. Her hippie artist heart and mind (which I totally love and don't want to change about her), just struggles with the analytical steps, straight rows, columns, exactness, organization, and neatness required for math.

When she see sits down to work on math problems those numbers start moving and soon jump off the page!  They start playing with each other, dancing around, flying in the air.  Next thing you know, they have decided to play with the dogs!  They've jumped off the table and onto the floor landing on their head, using their nose as a slide, and doing several tucks and a few 180 degree twists along the way.  


You know what that means now?  Yep, Ireland is right down there with those numbers and playing with the dogs.  

What a difficult situation, not only for her - but us too!  We don't want to squelch her little creative mind, but somehow she needs to know how to add, subtract, multiply and divide - oh my!   

When we notice her little mind switching into creative mode, we will say to her in our persistent parental voice, " Ireland, focus".

Her mind races back to reality, snapping so abruptly and quickly that she'll comment in that rude, snotty child voice, "I hate that word!"  (I think sometimes her head spins around a few times as well!)

Focus, such a simple splendid word.  According to Mr. Webster:  Focus is the ability to concentrate attention or effort.  


Hmm, just what we need for her.  

Somehow, someway we'll have to help her learn how to make those numbers line up in straight, neat mathmatical lines instead of jumping around all over the place, and creating a soup of a mess for her to learn with!