Tag Archives: daughters

“Home” for the Holidays

When you pray that your children get home safely for the holiday

and everyone arrives at the house the afternoon before Thanksgiving

and then your kids go out for the night,

so you go back to the beginning and hope your babies get home safely for Thanksgiving.

#twenties #fifties

Photo credit: Instagram

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Magic Carpet Ride

I don’t own a transforming genie, am not a person of great monetary wealth and am not bewitched. However, if I close my eyes in Durham, New Hampshire I am instantly transformed to a palace 80 miles away.

Thank you to the Aladdin of my life for our open air Jeep time. It was a great way to spend a magical afternoon – and take a nap on the way home.

Love, Jasmine

I am my blog

My life’s motto is the same as my blood type:

be positive.

My fashion statement is the same as my home decor:

relaxed.

My persona is the same as my perspective about the future:

welcoming.

 There are so many good things in every day life. Relax, put your feet up and read.

Welcome to my blog!

Gone but not forgotten

Our daughter has been in Philadelphia for several weeks. I miss her terribly just knowing she’s further away than usual. When I opened the refrigerator this morning, I saw her face. Maple syrup from the restaurant she likes. Dunkers that she  usually buys at Trader Joe’s for her dad. The bottle of Coke I had to buy yesterday because it showcased her name. Tomorrow I’ll buy some cream cheese and have a loaded steak and whiz sub for lunch. Somehow the visuals and city references bring her closer to home. It’s been a Rocky road for me. Ah, yes, that too will shorten the distance. A mom has to do what a mom has to do.

Release

Saturday’s are a mixed emotion for me. I struggle with how to enjoy a day off and still complete as many chores as possible. This morning I decided to mix business with pleasure and triple task. The plan was threefold:

– enjoy the calm and breezy  summer morning

– walk 3 miles to the bank instead of driving

– get in some exercise and tone my legs

It was a great idea but as I got to my halfway point, I thought of another task I should have completed before leaving the house. It occurred to me as the skies opened up and left me walking in a downpour and flip-flops. I could’ve checked the weather app. 

Now I’m feeling down, pouring myself a coffee and admitting my plan was a flop. 

– The walk wasn’t a breeze or calming.

– One can bank on the fact that my cold cash is now wet.

– I need to set a new tone for the day. 

My work is never done. 

Fashion Statement

My youngest daughter was never a huge shopper.  When she was an early teenager at the mall, she took forever to pick out an outfit.  It was a point of exhaustion – she circled back to each store three times before a decision was made.  As she got older and had money of her own, what she did spend was minimal and  thoughful.   It became a point of pride for me – she knew the value of a dollar and didn’t create impulsive looks.

Nowadays she seems even more frivolous and thoughtful of her image.  She buys an item and once it’s home, she admits to herself that she doesn’t need it.  Away at college, she orders something on-line from time-to-time.  When she comes home, she wants to return the item.

That’s where I come in. 

She has me do her bidding:

  • I remember one of the first times we made a return at the mall.  I was glad she wanted to spend time with me.
  • The second time, it felt great to be a Mom taking care of her baby girl.
  • The third time, I worried that she was shy or perhaps I was enabling her?

If she was the driver, in another store or sick at home – I was her front man.  I did not mind going to a trendy store counter stating, ‘it is too small’.

After another year of this behavior, I’m smarter.

I’ve also become

leary – skeptical – suspicious

forever 21 side

Although I don’t know why – she has the receipts.  Well, if she doesn’t, she has the tags. The stores have policies and procedures for returns.

Last weekend her grandmother and I picked her up before Easter.  She asked if we could go to the Harley shop to return a shirt before we got on the highway.  She drove us to the city dealership but wanted to stay in the car and visit with Grammie.  She handed me a bag.

It didn’t seem like a manipulation.

She and her Dad had been to the Harley Davidson shop the prior weekend to use her Christmas gift card. I was happy to give my daughter and Grammie some 1×1 time.  I held my own walking into the bike shop.  I felt confident in my jeans and about my transaction.

I was greeted at the door and brought over to ‘the ladies’ at the clothing counter.  I told them I wanted to exchange the small shirt in my bag for a medium.  I didn’t think it was a problem.  It was a Harley shirt – from their dealership.

The one time I didn’t have a receipt or a tag, I was questioned – twice.   The manager was summoned.  I assured her I just wanted to complete an exchange.  She acknowledged me but continued to key the numbers on the inside label.

I started to feel like it was a setup.

The feeling was confirmed when the woman with the tight black T-shirt (well – the one with the manager tag on her full bossom) turned back toward me.  She told me the shirt style I had was only sold eight months ago.  Their return policy was thirty days.

I felt like I deserved thirty days.  I won’t be making any more returns.  I also don’t think I’ll return to that Harley dealership. My daughter didn’t have much to say for herself.  So, I spoke instead – something about exhaustion and not being proud.