Cheers to Mom

It has taken me over a week to process this blog. After all, how do you describe in words a person who is so fundamentally important to your very being that everything that comes out in words sounds trite or superficial?

My Mom is my mentor, my role model, my hero, essentially, one of the most important people in my life. My Mom shaped the person I am today. Not that Dad didn’t play a role in it, but Dad came in later in the picture- the later in life lessons and understanding. When I was young, it was all about my Mom. I want to share a bit of my Mom with you because Sunday was her birthday. My selfless, loving, non-judgmental Mom is 25 years older than me. Those of you, who know my age, can do the math. The most critical thing I notice about the aging process of my Mom is that the more years pass, the more we resemble sisters rather than Mother/Daughter. I age, she doesn’t.

Mom has to be the smartest person I know. She is that incredible level of smart that I never understood until I became an adult. Mom can finish crossword puzzles- in ink! Mom knows the answers to any version of Trivial Pursuit. Jeopardy? She plays while cooking. Wheel of Fortune- often knows the answer before a single letter is turned. As a child, I took this for granted. I thought every parent was this smart. My Mom finished her Master’s Degree while working full-time, two young kids goofing off in the library while she was studying, and a husband who worked long hours and was constantly traveling for work. I have no clue how she did it- and I try to tell her how amazed I am by what she did- and often. Her reply? You do what you have to do.

As if being brilliant isn’t intimidating enough, my Mom is gorgeous. She is the perfect height, the perfect build, crystal blue eyes and blonde hair. Could I even get one shred of my Mom’s genetics- nope! Even today, walking next to her, I feel like an awkward gangly, girl with the wrong coloring, wrong clothes, and wrong everything. Sorry Dad, but not fair that Chris got the gorgeous genes. Mom always carried herself with confidence, something I still have not acquired. I am not biased here; my college boyfriend once said if I could guarantee I would age like my Mom, he would marry me on the spot. We’re not married. It was creepy to have my college boyfriend hitting on my Mom.

Mom set an example of what a parent should be, although at the time I didn’t realize it. She showed me that a Mom can and should have her own identity and can still be dedicated to her kids. Mom had an amazing career in education. She was well-known, well respected, and admired in her field, but away from school, she was still her own person. She was involved in Junior Women’s Club, Tennis Group, Golf Groups, Bridge Groups, you name it, and she was involved. She was always there to do the business politics with Dad, kept an amazingly clean house (without a cleaning lady and three messy people living with her), was a restaurant quality cook (except for the month of casseroles- sorry Mom, but the casserole phase- I still have nightmares!) and encouraged me and my brother to explore everything, do our best, and be true to ourselves. I can’t remember Mom not allowing us to explore something, and this I took for granted, and for that I will always be sorry.

As a kid, you don’t realize what a parent does without so their child can do something or have something. I loved art, so Mom drove me into Omaha on Saturdays to the museum so I could take art classes. She even found a local artist to give me more lessons. She made sure I got to dance classes (ballet, tap, jazz, and toe) and sewed costumes and bought expensive dance shoes and paid for even more expensive cheerleading uniforms. She didn’t just do these things for me. Chris pursued tennis, running, soap box derby. She was a scout leader for girls and boys and she planned numerous amazing birthday parties. When I got older, she took me shopping every weekend, and now I realize it wasn’t about making sure I had the latest clothes, it was about making time for me, trying to get me to talk to her about things and being a part of my life. She was cool. She taught me to shop sales, find bargains, plan ahead, cook, multi-task, skills I use everyday.

And what did Mom get as a reward for being so awesome? Me, an unappreciative, often embarrassing, rule-breaking, snot-nosed kid. I never said thank you enough, I constantly reminded her of what other kids had and I didn’t, made her feel guilty for not being a Room Mom or making me walk to school because she had to work. I was awful and she did not deserve it. Even now, after all the hell I put her through as a child and as an adult, Mom is my biggest supporter. Mom listens to me complain, tells me she is proud of me, and never seems surprised by an accomplishment. She never shows me any doubt she may feel about my abilities. Mom is a solution gal, so if life is throwing curve balls or lemons, she knows how to make the sweetest lemonade or become a better catcher. When I ask her about this, how she never stops to wallow or cry or be upset, she has the same answer- you do what you have to do.

The only good thing I did for her was give her grandkids. Although I think she feels I overdid it with four of them, she loves them all. She is an amazing Nana. She believes in building individual relationships with her grandchildren and recognizes their own talents. Having four daughters who are often looked at as a group by family and friends, I can never thank my Mom enough for recognizing them as individuals! My girls love to spend time with Nana. They read or do art or play on the computer or play games. She lets them drive the golf cart, takes them swimming, to the movies or shopping and lets them help her cook. She helps me be a better Mom by giving me advice- but in a way only when I am asking for it. She does not force an opinion or herself (although many times I wish she would) on me, my husband, and my kids. We all love her for it.

Happy Birthday Mom. May there be many, many more. Thank you for everything.

Roses and Radishes

Ok... so I know it is a gerbera daisy- but didn't Roses and Radishes sound so much better in the title? I also know that one picture is of corn... I do know my vegetables and flowers, they are in my garden. But again, it was all about the title. Moving on, SPRING HAS SPRUNG! I am so excited- the first successes of my flower and vegetable gardens are appearing. They may be my only successes, but we will see. This is the first radish harvested from my garden. Well, Phil says it is technically the second, because on Sunday we pulled one for our nephew, Jack to show him how radishes grow and he ate it straight from the garden. I wish I had my camera with me, because he was so thoughtful as he chewed on that miniature radish- contemplating the taste and texture. For a minute I thought he was going to hurl, but his eyebrows came together and then apart and he announced "I like it." Then, in typical Jack-style, moved on to a million other questions about this plant or that plant. He finish by proclaiming I needed to add broccoli to the garden and it will be done. Of course, I am now in search of broccoli starter plants for Jack!

After I harvested this radish, four more were ready, so we had our first salad last night with radishes from our own garden. It is becoming quite the family affair. I often find Phil out giving the garden a good soak- of course he has also informed me he has a vested interest- if the economy keeps going to heck in a handbasket- our only food may come from that garden! The corn is now two foot tall, so time to get a nitrogen boost. Carrots sucked this year- they usually do- but the leaves are so pretty that I left them in the garden anyway. This weekend we should be able to have bibb lettuce and radishes from our garden and tomatoes will be coming soon, onions quick to follow, and oh I can't wait for those cucumbers. The girls and I eat cucumbers like there is no tomorrow- I can get them to tell me anything with a cucumber bribe and Molly has an obsession with slicing cucumbers... should I be worried?

The flowers are a little newer to me. Don't get me wrong, I love flowers, but I have learned big, bad Phil loves flowers too. (Oops, there I go again revealing the softer side of Phil) Have I mentioned that my Hubby is a Harley-Riding, Bar Loving, Ready-to-Rumble Redneck designed to drive fear into the heart of everyone he meets? (There Honey- you are redeemed) So moving on, 'The Girls' really love flowers, so I am learning more and planting more so we have continuous color in our yard. SUGGESTIONS WELCOME!!! We are adding huge flower beds in the backyard next to our "Karma is a Bitch" fence (see future blogs for details), so I am busy planning bulbs and flowering bushes, etc.

Anyway, I rambled. I always ramble. But my gardens are a heck of a lot cheaper than a therapist and it is so darn wonderful to be able to say, "I grew that!". Check out the "My Opinion and a Gumball" website for upcoming reviews of products. I must say I found a killer pair of garden gloves- making it possible to get dirty and still have pretty nails!

The Most Amazing Brother Ever

Today is the birthday of the greatest brother whoever walked the Earth- my big, brother Chris. He and I have very different views of him, which I think is pretty common among any two people. Today, Chris is 39 years young, and has already accomplished more in life, with such great success, than I will ever achieve. Besides being tall and gorgeous (I used to love watching the girls fawn over my brother), he is an amazing Dad, fiercely protective of his family, managed to marry a wonderful woman willing to put up with our family's quirks, and is phenomenal at matters of business.

My big brother was not thrilled with me at first. I heard stories of him trying to dump me out of the cradle and push me out of my Mom's arms. As soon as I could move, we transitioned into a pretty common brother/sister relationship. We were best of friends one day and worst enemies the next. Having kids of my own, I understand now how this must have driven my Mother to the brink of insanity. My brother stood up for me to the bully, and included me in explorations of the woods and fun time with his own friends when I had nothing to do. My brother let me sleep with him for weeks when I was terrified and tried to get me to wear jeans on the first day of middle school so I wouldn't look like a dork in my dress... I didn't listen, but gosh I wish I had. My brother used to pick me up from school or drop me at a friend's house when he could drive and I couldn't. He moaned, he groaned, but he did it anyway. My brother taught me 'the rules' of drinking in high school- number 1 rule- don't embarrass him. (I broke rule number 1- a lot!)

Today is the day we celebrate him! His fantastic arrival in this world and his very presence that adds value to everyone he touches. I hope in the next 39 years, my brother learns to value himself as much as others appreciate him. I wish him the confidence in the love of a family who would walk through fire for him. I wish him the success he deserves as he embarks on the scary journey of starting his own business. I wish him the moments to stop and smell the roses (sorry about the cliche), but I wish him the gift of appreciating the moment in the moment, not in hindsight. Jack will only make his first hits once, and Addison will only dress up like a princess for so long, and there may come a time where he and his wife won't be able to dance on the back patio. I wish for him to go exploring like we used to do, build a fort out of an abandoned sheet of plywood left in the woods, build a soapbox derby car, lay on your back and stare at the clouds or the stars, and bring home flowers either picked from the road or picked up as an afterthought at the grocery store. Be as grateful for each breath on this Earth and accept that everyone you touch, is touched forever by your intelligence, sincerity, love, and truth. Thank you for always showing me how to be a better person, and for loving me and accepting me, even though I am a quirky annoyance (aka little sister!)

I love you Chris! Happy Birthday!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Today I miss Savannah! I miss the town shutting down to join in celebration. I miss the bands in the streets, the kids clammering to see the parade and finding nothing eerie about sitting next to a cemetary. I miss laughing at the college kids stumbling on the cobblestones because they have had too much to drink at 10 AM. I miss holding Phil's hand as we walk and enjoy springtime in Savannah and stealing kisses whenever I want. I miss crazy, expensive St. Patrick's Day t-shirts and buying 25 cent beads for $5. (I still have the beads!)

Those Special Moments...

Shea Austin is growing up! Sometimes it makes me sad because every time I turn around... POOF! Another sign she is growing up. This weekend she donned her social butterfly wings and fluttered around Eustis seeing one friend after another. Friday night she had Ari sleep over at our house, Saturday she had Morgan's 'Fancy Nancy Birthday Soiree' (hence the beautiful get-up) and spent the night Saturday with Elizabeth. Surprisingly, she was not grumpy on Sunday- but did still insist on wearing her Fancy Nancy gear. Shea now talks about things with meaning. She discusses her hair- the long, blond locks she is terribly proud of, but refuses to let anyone near with a pair of scissors. She has informed me that pickles are 'blehhck', and on Sunday we had a long conversation about the injustices of being the baby of the family. Shea is now capable of cleaning her own room and doing other chores. She is interested in gardening and asks me questions about the different plants that are growing. She can TELL TIME, count by 10s and 5s, and can tie her own shoes- even though she is still amazed that Mommy is so much better at it! Next time I turn around, we will be arguing over the same things I argue with Ryley and Casey about- no you can't wear make-up, yes those shorts are too short, and no boyfriends- yet! Right now, I am enjoying the five-year old arguments- who loves who more, why can't I wear my princess shoes on my scooter, and my favorite- plaid and stripes do match Mom! If Shea is growing up this fast for me- I can only imagine what is happening for the rest of you!

You are my Shea-shine- my only Shea-shine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you!

Please don't take my Shea-shine away.

You know that saying about an old woman and cats? Does it apply to men too?

Last Christmas we lost Chubby, Phil's bulldog and longtime companion. Chubby had been through a lot with Phil- lived in Ohio, Georgia, and moved to Florida with us too. Chubby was a messy dog- slobber everywhere (a disgusting mass of goo!), hair everywhere, and finicky as the day was long. All in all, he was a great dog and we have some great memories of him. He is now safely above our refrigerator until Chubby's Garden can be started in the backyard.

My husband has always despised cats. I never heard him say a good word about a cat, and this always saddened me, because I am much more a cat person than a dog person. However, being a Mom of 4 has made me a 'no pet' person and I really understand why my Mom always said no. Anyway, to my shock, Phil came home last spring and asked how I felt about him bringing home a cat. I was really glad I was sitting, or I would have fallen over. Apparently, at his office, several stray cats had started hanging around. Phil became attached to Smokey. "This cat is different," Phil would say. And Phil would also tell me that Smokey was turning white already in the face and paws, so Smokey would be a great 'transition' pet since he had to be old. So, Smokey came home and he has been a wonderful pet for all of us. Phil had a new buddy. To me Smokey meant a stall on the timeline of getting a new bulldog and the agreement was no new pets until Smokey passes. Of course, when I took Smokey to the vet, we discovered that his is not old, he is actually only about 3 and I was also informed that the vet is currently serving a 26 year old cat. This discovery led to a rant-filled phone call to Phil reminding him of our deal and making sure he understood that our grandchildren are going to get to meet Smokey!

Of course I tapered off with the ranting, and we started thinking that maybe Smokey would like to have another cat around to play with while we were gone during the day. We went to the Humane Society to find them kitten-free and added our name to the waiting list. The next week, I was driving home from Lowe's and the friend we hire to help with the yard started yelling. "Mrs. Latta, Mrs. Latta, that guy over there is throwing kittens out the window of his car!" I said, no that he must be mistaken, the car must have stopped for the 'squirrel' I saw running. No, that's what Caleb had thought too until he saw a second kitten being chucked out the window.

I turned the car around and we began to search for the kittens. The white one was easy to spot and we snatched her up quickly. But we couldn't find the brown one. As we went further into the woods, the kitten ran further from us- it seemed hopeless. Of course the girls were ga-ga when we got home with a kitten. She could barely fit in the palm of your hand. Phil was not happy, until he came home from riding and saw how adorable she was and so we named her Bella.

The next morning the temperature had dropped 45 degrees. I was taking Molly to CCD and she was talking about the poor little kitty left in the cold woods. So, we pulled over so Molly could meow, just to see what would happen. We didn't hear anything at first, but as we drove another 15 feet from where we had last seen the kitten, Molly meowed again, and the kitten started screaming back at her. I was able to trample down about 10 feet of brambles to get to the kitten and called Phil, who promptly came and grabbed the kitten. He named her Atilla because she attacked everything in his truck, much like Atilla the Hun.

I had several offers from people to take at least one of the kittens, but who won't let one go? Phil- the anti-cat man! So we went from one transition pet, to a house of three cats. The two new kittens provide hours of endless entertainment, and Smokey has adjusted as well as can be expected. Now, instead of watching my husband grow old with his dog, he will be the Ol' Man with the Cats!

I Got Tagged!

I got Tagged by Becca. Since I am not very involved in the Blogger world, I really do not have anyone to 'tag' after me. But, Becca wanted to see how I have aged and the requirement was a self-portrait. Since I am sitting at school, I really can't shoot a self-portrait, but either Phil or one of the girls took this just a few weeks ago and it will have to do. I still prefer to be behind a camera rather than in front of it- can't you tell? Am I off the hook now Becca?