In My Mother's Garden

My mother's garden is a place of peace when the blooms spread their fragrance and the dew drops on the magnificent colors. My mother tends her garden everyday. She's 69 years old and nearly every day from the spring thaw to the first flake of snow she tends her flowers. I wrote a poem about the legacy she gave me in her love of flowers once. It didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. It sounds like a cheap country song or a Hallmark facsimile. I'll leave it here, maybe you can help me put it straight... but this is about the peace my mother feels when she is amongst her flowers. Bugs bite her, sweat pours from her, chemicals irritate her, but she continues until she sees coming out of the ground what she knew was hidden in a crude bulb all along. She delights in the way the stems lift up toward the sky. She inspires those bulbs to be the most beautiful in the ground. She talks to them, cajoles them and then lovingly places them in the earth. Then she waits and watches. "See Tammy? I knew it would be the most beautiful one!" She tells me this as we go from flower to flower. Over and over I hear, ahhs, and ohhs, and see? Over and over again I see the enchantment in her eyes. The twinkle that was put there by a flower. I love my mother's flowers. They bring joy to her. They give her peace. They make her more beautiful, if that is even a possibility. The Iris Mother's hands tended flowers When they were oh, so very small, Grandma's hands would guide her, Showing her flowers, Loving them all. Out of Grandma's garden grew, A most amazing sight, A flower proud and beautiful, Of pure, angelic white. It was this snow-white flower, That Grandma loved the best, She tended this flower most graciously, No one would ever guess, That in this unsung flower, Many would recall, A shared and joyous moment, Watching spring nod off to fall. Years went by and seasons died, At heavens gate a daughter cried, To see her mother pass inside. Yet, a gift was given, And it was to be identified in... My hands that tended flowers When they were oh, so very small Mother's hands would guide me, Showing me flowers Loving them all. But, set apart from all the rest, Was the flower Mother loved the best. She tended this flower most affectionately, Guided by love, she might confess. Secret hands help tend this flower, Hands from heaven above, Unknowingly, together the flower Grows with love. Years went by and seasons died, At heavens gate a daughter cried, To see her mother pass inside. Yet, a gift was given, And it was to be identified in... The hands that now tend flowers, They are oh, so very small, My loving hands guide her, Showing her flowers, Loving them all. Together, we grow flowers, With eagerness and zest, But in a special corner grows, The one I love the best. It is this special flower, My daughter will come to know, As a friend, close and dear, While it flourishes and grows. The hands that tend the flowers Are oh, so very small, And they are drawn to one flower, That is the finest of them all. It holds within its petals, A shared love of women gone, And whispers of secret tomorrows, Of which will be her own. She holds this majestic flower, Up to the heavens above, And star lit eyes gaze down upon her, Filled with wonder, Filled with love. Years will slip by, and seasons will die, At heavens gate a daughter will cry, To see a mother pass inside, But, a gift will be given, And it will be identified in... The hands that tend the flowers.

love me later~tj

A Day Spent With Booger

A Day Spent With Booger

Spaghetti eaten with

Sandy fingers and

Wet toes

Toys pushed on

Chubby dimpled legs that

Run down the sidewalk as

YaYa gives chase

Beautiful smiles and

Squealed giggles are heard through

Perfect ears that mosquitos bite

Sleepy yawns make heavy

Eyes as the

Swing moves back and forth and

Back and forth and

Back and forth

Good night my sweet

A Day Spent with Booger©tjs5/29/07

and I am smiling...

love me later~tj

Entry for May 13, 2007 Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers
in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry
Kool-Aid saying, "It's alright honey, Mommy's here." Who have sat in
rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be
comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their
hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween
costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And
the mothers who took those b abies and gave them homes. And for the
mothers who lost their baby in that precious 9 months that they will
never get to watch grow on earth but one day will be reunited with in
Heaven!

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on
their refrigerator doors. And for all the mothers who froze their buns
on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from
the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see
me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the
world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.
For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year.
And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their
shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted
for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their
daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little
voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring
are at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach
aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to
get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick
them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the
words to reach them.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or
children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes
totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their
14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the
mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school,
safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful,
and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad
hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a
shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you
feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street,
walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you
from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the
back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2
A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are
safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and
hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child
dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep
deprivation...And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

For foster mothers and family memebers who suddenly became someone else's 'mother'.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us. Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell them every day that we love them.

And pray.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

and I am smiling....

love me later ~ tj

Entry for May 08, 2007 Horoscopes

 

 

Sometimes horoscopes hit so close to home it's eerie....

 

 

"The boundaries you put up to protect yourself are appropriate for what you're going through now, so don't listen to anyone who claims that you are too closed off. You know what you're willing to share and not willing to share -- and there's no need to budge on this. The restrictions you put on certain relationships are not serving a negative or confining function. They are helping to establish who you are and what you're comfortable with. And they are helping you feel more in control of your life. "

love me later...tj