Musings

I was in Target today and noticed a whole section of pink shelving.  They are getting ready for the Christmas selling season.    It reminded me of all the planning it took when the kids were little to give them a fun Christmas.  I bought Erin's first cabbage patch doll on a gut feeling in July of 1983 for $17.  By the time November rolled around my neighbor Jody had to stsnd in line for 2 hours and pay $150 to get one. I had so much fun last year buying tiny things that a beautiful little one would have loved to play with.  I never got to to give them to her. 

I have thought many times that if I had not stayed home with my children I would be enjoying the fruits of a long successful career.  With Jim's Parkinson's it would have benefited us greatly.

I am not sorry.  There is nothing I would give for all the experiences I had with my little ones. 

Little Erin at 4 months, January 1980

Erin and I would go for walks in the neighborhood every day.  She loved to look on the sidewalk to find the places where a dog had walked in the wet cement.  She collected rocks and leaves--all that got washed later in her pockets.  Once we saw a tiny Cardinal that had fallen out of his nest.  She wanted  to take it home with us.  I convinced her that his mom knew more about him that I did (whew!)

When Austin came along we just added him to all the things we had already been doing.  We had "not so elaborate" picnics under the Mesquite tree in the front yard. I would slap peanut butter on pieces of bread, fold it over, put animal crackers in a baggie, juice in a sippy cup and out to the blanket on the front lawn we would go.  Once when Austin was about 18 months old, he leaned his head back to get the drink out of his cup and he went rolling backwards down the hill that was our front yard.   I was horrified and he was in hystierics laughing.   He and Erin got so tickled, that they rolled down the hill over and over until they were exhausted.  During one of those picnics we had put a pin hole in a box to look at the reflection of the solar eclipse to discover that the leaves of trees showed it even better right on the grass.

Then every Tuesday and Thursday Austin and I waited patiently on the front porch for the garbage truck to come and pick up the garbage.  Seeing that truck operate was the high point of Austin's day.      

                                                                                                

A friend convinced me that Erin needed to learn how to swim so when she was five we added going to the pool to our routine.  She loved it!  She would pull the stool that Papa had made to the window in our bedroom to look down the hill to the pool.  If the lifeguard was there---the pool was open.  Off we would go.  I didn't know how to swim.  Shelley, Erin's swimming instructor insisted that I get in the pool and practice with her--which I reluctantly did.  In the process I learned how to swim.  We spent many summers going to the pool, and sitting under the tree during breaks eating animal crackers.  Shelley taught Austin to swim too.  She would reward him for paying attention by letting him jump off the side to the pool to her.  He loved that!

When Erin was nine we added our first pet tot he family, Debbie, a tom cat.  We thought he was a girl until the vet called to tell us that our Debbie had been neutered.  Erin cried, she said, "It will just not be the same since Debbie turned into a boy!"  But it was okay, I don't think Debbie cared one way or the other.  Jim was out of town on business five ways a week during this time, so it was up to the three of us to keep things together. Once in spite of carefully monitoring Debbie, he climbed up to the very top of Mrs. Drake's tree.  We could hear him crying.  He cried all morning, afternoon and shortly before dark we decided on drastic measures.  Debbie would come to us, or answer us if one of us meowed like a baby kitten.  He would also come if he could hear the food box rattle.  Jobs were assigned, Erin meowed like a kitten, Austin rattled the food box and when Debbie got down to the fork in the tree I whacked him in the rear with the broom.  He went sailing across Mrs. Drake's yard and safely into our garage.

At 3 o'clock our cat Debbie would amble down to the corner, while Austin and I waited on the porch for the school bus to drop Erin off from School. When it arrived, Debbie would slither out of the bushes and stride ever so proudly to escort Erin around the cul de sac where Austin stood waiting on our driveway to give hugs all 'round.

Erin and Austin in Cheyene, Wyoming, July 1998

Although my career would have been very helpful right now--there is nothing I would give for all those wonderful memories of things Erin, Austin and I did together---nothing.