Two Pine Trees

The last blog I did was on the resilience of my parent's generation during crisis. I don't know for sure if I have painted them as saint like out of a fondness for golden memories, but I do believe I caught the gist of their character. I, on the other hand, am failing miserably when it comes to a resilient character during this time of Social Distancing and staying home during Covid-19. I would like a vacation from my family, please. While there are short spurts of time that everyone is occupied with either work or school, the rest of the time can only be described as live sardines in a constantly disinfected can. I have no room of my own. If I go to the bathroom, someone knocks on the door, or actually comes in. I'm feeding three dogs, a cat and one desperately skittish fish. The cat tends to drink from the filter in the fish tank, ever see a fish try to go incognito? The cat claims me when I sit to read, the dogs claim me at all times, underfoot and vying for attention....

My Mama told us about her life during The Great Depression. Every cadence of her voice comes back to me when I remember her stories. Being one of eight children, and somewhere just above the middle child, she'd tell us about running into the train yards at night, to get precious coal that had fallen onto the tracks. She, her older sisters and a couple of the younger brothers would stealthily sneak around the darkened tracks at night, loading their shirts, baskets, and bags with coal while keeping an eye out for the train detectives. One such night, her siblings scattered to avoid the detectives, and my Mama, all of nine years old, was left alone, hiding under a train at night. She eventually made it home to help distribute the coal to family and neighbors. My Daddy, on the other hand, had different memories of The Depression, as he grew up on a farm. They never went hungry, but they did without a lot. He retold stories of pranks pulled, and adventures won. His most frequently tol...

People lied to me about motherhood, and children. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It was all of that, and more. It didn’t go by “fast”. Their childhoods went by faster than a dead soap opera character can miraculously come back to life, faster than a politician can lie, faster than some caller can try to scam you in broken English. Every time I hit a milestone and get all verklempt over my miracles growing up, another mile marker hits me over the head. Early this morning I was working on my laptop and listening to my motherhood playlist. Now honestly, I’m pretty busy these days. But time expands and contracts all on its own rules. And motherhood taught me this if nothing else – grab, reach, expand, and don’t hesitate. Because your miracles will walk away all on their own, and you want them to do just that. Even if it makes you cry. So, here’s my playlist, and why those songs made the list, and at the end, I’ll explain about the yogurt. “Mama” LunchMoney Lewis –...

"There goes my miracle. Walking away." There Goes My Miracle, Bruce Springsteen Six words, and Bruce Springsteen captured my world.   I always wanted to be a mother. No, strike that. I always wanted to be a Momma. Being a mother isn't hard. You give birth. Being a Momma. Very hard. I wanted children. I wanted the love, the hope, the hugs, the dirt, the work, the chaos. I thought it would never happen for me. People are quick to tell you what your reality will be. People are wrong. Your reality is a combination of your hopes, your dreams, your work, and your prayers with a miracle or three thrown in. What your reality isn't is the words others use about you. Our sons are 21, and 22. They are headed off for their last full semester of college (fingers crossed, and more prayers). Children are walking away from you from the moment they are born. When older women told me it went by so fast, I couldn't see their reality for mine. Mine was clouded with dia...

Just shoot me down now. Apparently I'm a sinner of the worst kind. I am a woman, who has hyphenated her last name. Forgive me my transgression for honoring my husband's family and mine. I will wear my scarlet letter now, but do I put W-H on my shirts for Woman Hyphenator or just the H? I'm so confused. Geez, the British have done it for ages, but a girl from North Carolina, born and bred, I guess I crossed a line much worse than The Mason-Dixon line. Sorry, I didn't mean to hyphenate again, but after 33 years of being an Alford-Carman, it comes easy to me, scarlet woman that I am. Long story short, my husband and I discussed my hyphenation pathology prior to marriage. The man was totally cool with it, having two sisters and an absolute loving respect for his own mother. With our children, we followed tradition, lest we resort to calling everyone "Hey you!" after two generations of hyphenating. I mean, imagine roll call, or attendance with "Maria Alford-...

Ah, vacation with the family. Video's of togetherness and loving moments shared. Places you've explored and people that you meet. These are a few of my favorite things, until dinner time, events, and any sort of "me time" that you might need for the sake of sanity alone. I did more dishes on our last vacation than I've done in most weeks at home. I also did laundry, and while nobody made me do it, I didn't want to come home with a weeks worth of smelly clothes that would trail it's unique bouquet through the car and the house. Mama needs a vacation from the vacation. I may be wrong, but I think most Moms' do. When we were child free, vacation was no hassle, there were no sleeping schedules or feeding schedules to worry about. The hubby and I could meander and explore without the stress of worrying that someone would fall off of Mile High Swinging Bridge, or into the Thames, depending on where we were fortunate enough to be. Baby one came and our car ...