Leaving Things Behind

I vividly remember a story about a good friend of my grandmothers on a shopping trip when she purchased a pair of shoes for an incredible bargain -  but they weren't her size! She bought them simply because the deal was "too good to pass up."

In direct contrast, I love this post by Janice from The Vivienne Files: "It's Not In My Plan".

Is it greed to snatch something up that doesn't work and we'll never use simply because the deal is too good to leave behind? Maybe we need to stop and think, "I don't need this, so I'll leave it to be a blessing to someone else."

Do good buys catch you in their trap of being too good to pass up or do you find it easy to leave them behind if they won't work for you?

T.W.

Drama on a Quiet Tuesday Afternoon

My sister-in-law and I took the two little girls outside to enjoy some beautiful sunny fall weather. We got the mail, and then flitted around the yard between the interests of two wee girls when our travels took us to the front porch.

While I can’t recall the exact sequence of events, my oldest niece suddenly cried out in pain, and Mrs. S spotted a bee trying to sting her again. I grabbed my sunglasses since they were the only thing available to hand and was trying to get the bee off, but not having success. Then the Wee One cried out, and Mrs. S started screaming and ran off the porch. I was still trying to get the bee detached from Little Rose’s shirt, when her mother turned around and saw us still there and yelled at us to run! It was a good thing she did, because she knew there was a nest right by us, and they were starting to come out to attack!

We all reached the side of the house, thinking we might be out of danger, but quickly realized that we still had vicious bees on our trail. We ran inside as quickly as possible and Mrs. S started getting the clothes off the girls. Which was a very good idea, because those nasty things will crawl into your clothing and keeping stinging you. We were trying to comfort and check out the little ones when we realized that we were still under attack!

My sister-in-law grabbed the girls and ran into the other room, and then into the back bedroom while I attacked the bees. I don’t remember what I reached for as a weapon, but I assure you I stomped on those bees but good. There were only three, but there was something horrible about the fact that they had come into the house after us. Somewhere in there my sister-in-law had called her husband to ask about the stings, but by the time the call connected we were under attack again. I must confess to in all the madness feeling sorry for my brother who was miles away and couldn't do a thing to protect us from vicious bees.

Really, God was very merciful! We didn’t suffer too many stings and the girls don’t seem all that bothered by them. Emotionally we may not be quite back to ourselves since there is something exceptionally traumatizing about being chased and attacked by bees, especially with little ones.

It was fresh clothes for all of us, since bees invading your personal space is unnerving. I’m not sure when we’ll ever go outside again. I might have to make cookies tomorrow, since I feel that we are never going to be quite all right until we’ve had some chocolate chip cookies. It’s a thought at any rate.

I hope the only thing dramatic about your Tuesday was the Presidential Debate.

T.W.

Who's Your Momma?

It’s an epidemic. Or something. The young daughter of a friend of mine has several times recently called me Momma, but it is all in play. She also has called me “horsey,” so you can see why I don’t take these things personally. I have to say, it can be a tiny bit awkward, but I try to be a good sport and not interfere with her games since one of the times dolls were also involved. I have to say it is rather a shock to take on four “children” suddenly. I can only hope, that should they ever occur, it won’t take me that long to get my own children ready for school. How many times can you change an outfit?!!!

But it doesn’t end there: I’m currently staying with my brother and sister-in-law and my oldest niece frequently refers to me as “Momma.” She picked it up from a movie (Aristocats?) where all the little kittens say respectfully, “Yes, Momma.” And when I first got here, that is what she did, answering anything with a polite, “Yes, Momma.” Now she often just calls me “Momma.” Mrs. S. and I have both tried to correct her to no avail. I even went through a long explanation, coached her through “Aunt” and everything, and did I make any progress? She looked at me and said, “Yes, Momma.”

In humorous retaliation, I told her at one point that if she called me “Momma”, I was going to call her Tahitian, because right before I came I watched a movie that supposedly it is a Tahitian custom to share your children with those that don’t have any. In the movie it bugged me and I was thinking, “Raise your own kids!” I actually think it was Hollywood taking license with a custom that includes grandparents and other family members helping to raise the children – now that makes more sense. Handing your child off to a single young bachelor to rear just because he doesn’t have any seems like an imposition at best.

Back to my niece, she knows I’m not her mother. That is not even an issue. The trouble is how to communicate to a three and half year old that “Momma” really isn’t a title I should go by. The logic of youth is escaping me. Of course, youth is escaping me too, but that is a whole other problem. I think perhaps just leaving the child to her own devices might allow her to work it out in her own way. Maybe. She did call me something today that roughly resembled my real name, and as butchered as it was, I applaud her progress. But then as she was heading to bed she told me, "Goodnight, Momma."

Leading a curious life,

T.W.

(Who attends widows luncheons and is “Momma,” but not mother, to dolls and assorted children. And is sometimes a horse. Neigh, it is too much to ask.)