Clog, Slog and Scootch

“I wish grace and healing were more abracadabra kind of things. Also, that delicate silver bells would ring to announce grace's arrival. But no, it's clog and slog and scootch, on the floor, in the silence, in the dark.”
― Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith

 

 

 

 

I have mostly been scootching and slogging through life these days.    My mom has been hospitalized and isn't doing well at all.   A close friend moved across country, taking with her my little ones sweet friends.    Our oldest daughter started a new job which means WE ALL started a new job.  Bills, work commitments and educational commitments and the total lack of sunlight (any rays from which would've totally been blocked by Mount Laundry) have left me perhaps a little, teeny, tiny, bit sad lately. 

I have also been making a great effort to slow down and attempt to slowly breathe,lately.   It's easy to get swept up in the hustle and bustle and to-do list that can easily dominate my days.   Which brings me to my mom.

 

 

My mom is a tough cookie.   I don't remember her ever working less than two jobs while I was growing up, and somehow our home was clean and meals were prepared.  She is a born and bred New England'er and of a matter of fact and don't mess around I mean business personality.   To this day, my children are convinced that she can hear them moving around at night, sneaking glasses of water or changing rooms when we visit her.  If you don't want to hear the truth (at least her version of it), then do not make eye contact with my mother-blunt is just the beginning.

 

I also grew up with elaborate Easter Bunny cakes, Frankenstein cookies and little notes in my lunchbox-and this was WAY before the days of Pinterest and Chef Central.   Gelatin molds and Reading Rainbow coloring books and coordinated outfits were part of my days.    There was an incredible amount of sadness and anger as well; however time has offered some protective scar tissue, if not unable to heal old wounds. 

 

 

Not knowing how many more times I will hear my mom's voice has made me incredibly aware of how powerful a mother's voice is in the life of a child.  

And I'm grateful. 

 

My mom