I didn’t mean to not write much last week, it just turned out that way. The kids were on Spring Break and it seems that the week just flew by, as school holidays do sometimes. In addition to trying to keep two kids occupied, something that has become easier with Nathan over the years as he is able to occupy himself more and more, and harder with Polly, as she is more prone to whining about boredom and complaining that she isn’t being taken to Maui or France during the holiday or whatever her wealthier classmates are doing.

One of my Mom’s friends had asked if my Mom knew anyone who could come over and do some work for her. My Mom of course recommended Nathan, one who’s known not only for his willingness to work hard for hours for little to no pay, but also one who seems to enjoy it when the mood in his head is right. He headed over to her house on Tuesday morning and spent the day doing yard work. Usually not one to complain, I was surprised when he came home with a wad of money and a foul attitude. Although he stated that this woman was indeed very nice, I guess she worked him a little harder than he was accustomed to and his back was hurting and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to return. She called and left a message asking what day and time he would be willing to work again and I left the decision up to him. He decided against making extra cash, a decision that surprised both his father and me. After giving the matter some thought I decided to offer up myself for the job. It’s not that I was in any way desperate for the money; I was more inclined to feeling that a good day of work for some money that I myself had earned would be good for my self esteem.

Thursday my sister had planned to take Polly for the day so that she could spend some time with my two nieces. I called and arranged to work that day. The woman was surprised as she felt that I was offering because I felt guilty that Nathan didn’t want to come back. I assured her that I indeed did want the job. Nathan warned me that I was about to take on the hardest job I’d ever encountered in my life, something I found comical given the jobs I’ve held in the past and their backbreaking suckage.

The day turned out to be a long hard day of gardening, something I’ve done many times both for our yard and my Mom’s. I felt no pain as I went along and stopped only once at the insistence of the woman (whom I shall call June) so that we could have some lunch. I found the opportunity to have someone new to talk with very pleasant. I have only met June once or twice over the years as she has traveled and lived all over the world for her husband’s job. She has a PhD and two daughters she and her husband adopted overseas, now grown. She asked me a number of questions about myself and I felt a little uncomfortable divulging my details and so I kept my answers honest, yet short and sweet. I tried a number of times to manipulate the conversation away from me but she was too savvy for such tactics. I tried to show her that I could work just as hard if not harder than my 15 year old son and by the end of the day her yard really looked lovely.

As the end of the work day approached and I went inside to collect my things and to go through the awkward process of getting paid (I hate discussions regarding what is essentially my worth as a worker) she sat me down to share a Pepsi and a thirty minute conversation. Throughout the day, gleaning from my short answers and whatever she already knew about me from my Mother, she had developed what she felt was a good plan for my future. I wasn’t surprised, I had already surmised that she was a strong woman who spoke her mind bluntly, and I listened carefully to what was in actuality wonderful advice about carving out time for myself for my own personal needs, demanding that I be treated fairly and kindly by those around me, and not being afraid to take the steps I’ve been avoiding for so long to ensure a better future for myself. She had correctly pinpointed the fact that I am afraid, although I never said the words.

I went home tired and dirty but feeling generally positive about myself. One of the few things I have had going for me over the years has been my work ethic, and as I had guessed before I made the call, spending a day working was good for my psyche. I am not sure if she will call to have me work again. She mentioned needing someone to come and help her sort through boxes of things in her basement and I told her that I would be willing to help. I have spent so many years doing similar work with my Mom it almost sounds easy. It’s always easier for me to deal with other people’s accumulated boxes.

I have been trying to put some of what she told me into practice, things I already knew but must have needed to be reminded of, like it’s okay to take some time out for myself. Today I soaked in the tub and when I finished took the time to massage my entire body with a silky lotion. It may sound like nothing to some, but other readers might understand what it’s like to have the tendency to sacrifice yourself and your needs and desires during the process of caring for others. Hopefully I will remember to take a little time for myself each day without guilt.

Lori, it is nice to meet you. I am happy to hear that you found my site and have been here reading. I will check out yours when I have more time. Thank you for commenting!

Someone like you,

I hope you are right about my Mom feeling better after all is said and done. I saw her today and she was still rather stressed out. I asked her why and she couldn’t give me a straight answer. I think it will take some time for her to unwind. Thank you for always being here, reading and commenting.

Jane,

I guess I feel that I was just doing what I had to do. I have had each of my siblings call and thank me for taking care of mom when they could not. It was hard, but I don’t feel strong. I just feel tired. I don’t know if I adequately expressed to you how happy it makes me to have one of my favorite journalers reading my site! It really makes me feel good and I thank you for taking the time to lend a supportive ear.

I am still getting used to not having to rush around madly. I have been catching up on housework and making sure my kids get their homework done. It is nice to have the time to really be present here at my house. My sister Monica just dropped me by a birthday present and she commented on how much more relaxed I looked. I didn’t tell her that I had just finished a Jack Daniels on the rocks. She gave me one of those amaryllis bulbs you can force inside in the winter. I have always wanted one but I never buy myself stuff. I will look forward to seeing it bloom.

Before my Mom put her house on the market she tagged the plants that weren’t included in the sale, intending on taking them to her new house. Now she is digging out these plants she can’t part with and driving them to my house with an urgency usually reserved for the transportation of human organs. “Tammy, I got the lavender out! Get it in the ground as soon as possible!” Now, I love to garden. This is nerve wracking though, taking her beloved plants, each one complete with a story of when and how she got it, and being expected to make them live in my soil.

Our house was built in 1920 but apparently no one ever felt the desire to plant a garden here. In the 2 and a ½ years we’ve lived here I have slowly worked on creating a garden. Every time I thrust my shovel into the earth I hit rocks, lots and lots of big rocks. I ended up making a big pile of them and now they are partially hidden underneath the back stairs because I don’t know what to do with them. Ideally the yard should be totally rototilled and new topsoil brought in. I had that on my list of things I want to do next year.

Now with the arrival of Mom’s plants I feel a nervous sort of expectancy in the air. She says it’s okay, that she knows they might not make the move, but I feel responsible to create a garden out of them, to keep them alive for her. My thumbs don’t feel so green anymore.

Polly is home, safe and sound. She brought with her new stories of her adventures and new smells emanating from the pile of wet, muddy clothes. She wants to return to Outdoor School as a high school student, to be a camp counselor. She told me stories of fishing, touching snakes and taking hikes. It is exciting to see her growing up. The day after she returned home I received a letter from her stating that she wasn’t having fun, that she thought she was going to throw up, and would we be mad if she came home early. When I asked her about it she said that yeah, she was feeling homesick when she wrote that letter. I am glad that I didn’t get it until she was already back. It would have left me fraught with worry over her.

Nathan is doing well, so well that I haven’t wanted to say anything for fear of cursing us. He seems to have his emotions in check for the time being and I can’t even describe the relief that settles over our home when he isn’t having one of his outbursts. Hopefully this calm will last. Let me knock wood quickly.

My husband has been working too much, so much that I feel as if I never see him. He was off last night and again tonight. It is so nice to just have him beside me. Because he works the graveyard shift and sleeps days, most of my nights are spent alone in bed. Having him beside me last night was such a treat. We were watching a movie and I reached out to hold his hand. Lacing his fingers through mine he held my hand for over an hour, and it was one of those moments that are hard to describe. I felt at peace, just having him near me. I try to remember to be grateful that he has a job, as much as I do miss him.

I have decided to read “The Virgin Suicides” by Jeffrey Eugenides next. I told myself some time ago that I could not buy another book until I read everything on the shelf that I haven’t gotten to yet. I have stuck by that for months, with the exception of one book I picked up at a garage sale for a quarter. Today is a rainy day, perfect for snuggling up with a book and reading away the hours. I have a bit more housework to do and I am thinking that I’ll wait on the reading until the kids are back in school tomorrow and my husband returns to work. I don’t want to miss any opportunities to spend time with them.

I hope all my readers are having a good weekend. If you have any book or movie recommendations, please leave them in the comments. Or even if you just want to say hello. I love hearing from people.

that my husband said was dead earlier this spring, but I believed that it was going to come back just to show him. I smile every time I walk past them. Mother Nature said, “HA!” I asked him to go over to my strawberry plants and say the same thing, as they were looking a little droopy and likely to not bare fruit, but he refused. We only got one berry, and Polly ate it.

After some tumultuous teen years my Mother and I have become close friends. Over the course of the last sixteen months I have been going to her house five times a week to help her prepare it for sale. This has involved painting, cleaning, and sorting through almost forty years worth of stuff. Now that her house has been listed and it looks like she has a sale pending the need for me to be there so frequently has been eliminated.

I find that I miss the almost daily contact with her.

We do talk on the phone frequently, and today the topic of our respective gardens came up. She asked me if I had any ripe tomatoes yet, and I responded that I had, as well as peppers of various types and zucchini. She said that her tomatoes were still green and she had discussed the subject with my brother, himself an avid gardener with an enviable garden. After telling him that her tomatoes had yet to ripen he let her in on his little secret for beautiful, red, vine ripened tomatoes. According to him, he hangs red glass ball Christmas ornaments in his tomato plants and the green ones ripen because they want to keep up with the other “tomatoes” in the bush. He claimed it was a scientific fact that he had read somewhere and that it never fails him.

My first response was to laugh, certain that he was pulling our legs. My second response was to do a Google search on it to see if it was in fact true.

I ultimately decided that it was harmless to let my Mom believe this. I like the vision of her pulling out the packed away ornaments, digging through them for the red balls, and carefully hooking them onto her plants in hopes that it will cause a jealous rush in her green fruits to keep up with their brilliant competition.

I sincerely hope her tomatoes start to turn color now. After all, don’t we all need something to believe in?