Breakfast in Bed

I love making breakfast for my loved ones. Whenever my kids had a birthday, I always let them choose their favorites for breakfast and dinner. And sometimes, they got it served on a tray! My college girl loves to be babied. Since she is the youngest, she flows in this role well; it comes naturally to her, and since I'm such a mother hen, I love doing it for her. So, when she is home, even if it's not her birthday, I sometimes make her breakfast in bed. This morning is her last morning home before she heads back to school, so I thought it was an appropriate morning for some princess treatment. 

I had this idea in my head to make french toast, but I had some perfectly ripe peaches and was trying to think how I could make a protein rich peach french toast combo...and I came up with a baked french toast casserole with peaches and blueberries. Add some OJ, fresh fruit and a little daisy on a silver tray, and even Snow White would be impressed. 

Peach and Blueberry French Toast Casserole

5 eggs

2 cups milk

1 t. vanilla (although I use 1/4 t. of my favorite super-concentrated Haitian vanilla)

1 t. cinnamon

1/4 t. salt

12 slices high protein bread (I used Sprouted Wheat Whole Grain), crusts removed

2 ripe peaches

1 c fresh blueberries

4 T butter

sprinkling of cinnamon sugar

Dice the bread and place in a buttered casserole dish with peeled/diced peaches and blueberries. Mix eggs, milk, vanilla, cinnamon and salt together. Pour over bread/fruit mixture. Mix well to be sure bread has absorbed liquid. Melt butter; drizzle over all and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes. 

                   

I'm glad Jessie appreciates things like this. I'm up way to early for anyone to be able to do this for me, but I love doing it for others. Though I will say, I do love me some cappuccino in bed...hint, hint to any family members out there reading. :)

Separation Anxiety

Son, Nathan and Mary's wedding in May

Separation anxiety is a term we hear often when we are talking about babies and toddlers. Or maybe even our dogs. But have you ever heard a mature fifty-something mom say that SHE suffers from it?

Well, that would be me. I am admitting it. I struggle with being separated from my kids. I have been trying to cope with these feelings for years. Gosh, I even cried when we dropped our first-born off at her dorm in 2005, which was only 15 miles away. There have been numerous times since then that I've hugged them goodbye and wished them well. And then gotten in the car and sobbed. 

I loved being a mom. Still do, but I loved raising kids. Having babies, then toddlers, then children, then teens. Introducing them to the world bit by bit - roses, hummingbirds, sandcastles, the solar system. Teaching them to read and ride a bicycle and cook. Taking them camping and introducing them to new cultures.  I loved making pancakes and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and mac and cheese. I loved snuggling with them, and being adored by them. I remember telling my little boys after smothering them with kisses, that one day their faces would be covered with prickly whiskers and they wouldn't want to kiss me anymore. They couldn't imagine that. 

 

Easter 1993

But little by little they gain distance from their mama. First they crawl into another room, then play at the neighbor's. Before you know it, they are staying overnight at a friend's house, going away to camp for a week, and working their first job. Then dorm life and their first apartment. Thankfully, it happens gradually! And although growth is natural and healthy, and you know in the back of your mind that their separation from you is coming, it is not easy. I always cringe a little when I hear moms wishing for the day when their kids are gone and they can get "their life" back. Or wishing for some new stage of development, ostensibly saying they don't like the one they're in. But that stage is fleeting and they will never be a newborn, 4 or 16 years old again. My encouragement is always to remind them how quickly it passes, and like some old sage tell them to relish the moments.

                 

Home school, need I say more?

Living abroad in Italy

Spring 2007

Ebey's Landing, WA

With Abby in Seattle, 2010

I will talk about my eldest, Abby, because this one has been the most challenging in terms of my separation anxiety. Like many oldest girls, she was a compliant and easy child, eager to please and easy to get along with. She was like another mom to the other kids at times, and incredibly responsible. As she grew into young adulthood we became friends. We wanted her to express her desire to travel and use the gifts she had to affect the world, and I knew in the back of my mind she would live far away from me one day. She spent a semester in New York City after high school, and that was a tough moment of separation for both of us. And then she moved into a dorm in the college town nearby. Although I knew I could see her often if I wanted to, I thought it was the healthy thing to give her lots of space, and come to me when she wanted to. She became a beautiful and confident young woman, and developed skill in her chosen profession, photography. Upon graduation she ventured out to the west coast to accept a newspaper internship with The Oregonian.  Little did I know that day she drove away in her Honda, that she was vanishing from my everyday (or at least every-week) life. No longer was she nearby and available for an impromptu dinner invite or a coffee date. She wasn't even in a similar time zone, so that even phone dates were difficult to schedule. But I "endured" (I'm really sounding melodramatic now) those three months, secretly hoping she would make her way back to the east coast.

But it wasn't to be. She took a job with a non-profit in Seattle. And she fell in love with Seattle. And then she fell in love IN Seattle. At times, I almost couldn't believe she was falling in love and I couldn't be witness to their budding romance. She was so great about sharing much of it over the phone, but it still wasn't the same as being there. Here she was, one of my closest friends, and I  had only met her boy once! They married and settled into a new apartment with all their wedding gifts. And it was dawning on me that she wasn't coming back. 

There were many tearful conversations about this. Sometimes she hadn't felt included about some family information. More often, I was the one feeling badly that she was far away from me. We had many heart-to-hearts, and shared a lot of emotion over it. I still tear up sometimes when I think about this life change. When we are visiting each other, I feel pressure to make every minute count, and I'm sure I am passing that stress on to her. 

Abby and Dave

But I've recently had an epiphany (or two). I took a step back and saw that Abby's first 18 years were only preparation for her life to come. As her mom, I had the privilege of being the one to shape her and contribute a huge amount of influence. But that was not her life. Her mature life was to come after, what it was all building up to. I had sunk so much emotion into those formative years, that I lost sight of the goal. And instead of rejoicing in a great outcome to all those years of preparation and prayer, I was loathing the very thing I had hoped for her. 

The other thing I realized was that she has been called to Seattle. She loves everything about that city and the Pacific Northwest. Not everyone does. I love living here in North Carolina. Not everyone does. So she has planted there, and is flourishing. Not to say that God may move them elsewhere in the future, but for now, this is where she is best fulfilling the call of God on her life. What more could a parent want? 

And so, I feel like I am beginning to heal from my separation anxiety, and release her into her destiny. She may never have felt fully released, and then never have been able to realize her full potential in that place, if I don't actually let her go.

I do have three other kids, also young adults in different phases of life and distances from home. Both my sons are now married, and my youngest daughter is still in college. This has helped make this little season of change easier, but there have been many tears associated with the cutting of those apron strings, too. 

I am so thankful that while my kids were growing up I cultivated a life independent from them. I have so many other relationships, interests and pursuits that keep me occupied. I would exhort all young moms out there to be careful not to make your children your only pursuit. It should be a priority, but not the only thing you do. You will be a virtual basket case when they leave home! Invest in your marriage, a career, hobbies, friendships, philanthropy, and/or your education. 

And my husband has played a huge role in my 'healing.' If we didn't have such a fun, vibrant relationship, I'm sure this would all be a million times more difficult. I'm so glad we took the time to invest in our marriage, because that's how all this child-rearing came to be in the first place! We knew someday it would be back to just the two of us, and that time is upon us. I remember listening to this song as a young mom, and thinking it was so far off: "...but Baby, what will we do, when it comes back to me and you? They look a little less like little boys everyday. And the pleasure of watching the children growing, is mixed with a bitter cup, of knowing the water-colored ponies will one day ride away." - Wayne Watson, Water-Colored Ponies  

I'm glad we know what to do - we're riding motorcycles, taking long walks, dancing in the kitchen, sharing a glass of wine and cooking to French Cafe Radio on Pandora. 

A Real Love Story

(photo credit Roxanne Turpen)

Next Tuesday, April 30 my younger sister and her husband will celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. In this brave new world we occupy, twenty-five years together is pretty impressive for any couple. But like Piscine Patel says in The Life of Pi, "I have a story that will make you believe in God."

7 months before the accident

Sharon was 15 when our lives changed forever. She was walking home from school, I suppose somewhat mindlessly, as teen girls will do, and crossed a busy four-lane highway. She was struck by a vehicle going about 35 mph, which lifted her out of her shoes and onto the windshield. She was without oxygen for some time due to something she was eating getting lodged in her throat. Other than the severe closed head injury and brain trauma, there were no broken bones. She was life-flighted to the hospital where she lay in a deep coma for over 6 weeks. I saw her the first time two weeks after it happened when I managed to get a ride home from college, which was 300 miles away. My family was still reeling from the trauma, and wondering if she would live or die. And if she lived, what would the future be like?

After some weeks, she reached for a piece of cake. This was the first indication that she was emerging from the coma. Over the course of the next two years she slowly came out of the fog, re-learning everything from feeding herself, to sitting up, walking, speaking, reading and writing. Her personality remained intact - social, lively, engaged. But just about everything else changed. She returned to high school at 17 and completed her years there in the special education department at age 19, earning her diploma. But she could not drive. She could not cook.  Couldn't hold a job. Couldn't ride a bike. She could walk, but her gait was not right and she stopped frequently to adjust the position of her right foot. Her common sense and relationship discernment were compromised and she lacked many basic skills for independent living. In addition, she suffered terrible brain seizures which left her babbling streams of words that had nothing to do with each other. My parents began to plan for a lifetime of care.

My family attended a local church where they received a tremendous amount of support. There were so many kind people that walked with my parents through those rough years. In the 1980s, computer technology was gaining ground and John was someone my Dad was able to chat with about this mutually interesting topic. John was an electrical engineer and so intelligent, that most average folks had a hard time conversing with him. He would just talk over their heads. But my father found a pal in John and their friendship developed over time.

One day John asked my dad if he could take my sister Sharon to a lecture at a local university. Dad assured him that he was welcome to ask her, but he didn't know if she would be interested in something like that. However, she wanted to go and was thrilled that someone was asking her on an outing. A week later, John asked my dad again if he could ask Sharon to dinner. My dad, genius that he is, realized that John wanted to date Sharon, and he quickly briefed John about Sharon's tendency to latch on to anyone that would give her attention.

John's reply was, "That's okay, I want to spend time with her. I believe God has told me to marry Sharon."

Wow. It was an amazing thing to behold that courtship and engagement, then with tear-filled eyes, watch as my sister walked down the aisle, a beautiful radiant bride. Of course, we all wondered how it would really go. Would they make it? Would John be able to love her in spite of the difficulties and vast differences between them? Could they have children? Would Sharon be able to care for a household?

But as they moved into their first home together, it was evident that John loved Sharon. Loved, as in an action verb. They set up housekeeping and arranged their furniture and put their wedding gifts away. He bought a tandem bike so they could ride together. They shopped for groceries together and went camping. He patiently and lovingly taught her so many things.

One fond memory I have, that will forever endear me to my brother-in-law was when they invited us for dinner one night. John had been at work all day, so I was unsure of what we were having, or who would prepare it. When we arrived, the table was set with their finest and we were invited to sit down. Sharon had been working all day to prepare a meal of omelets and some other things I don't remember. The food was incredible. I was truly in shock. It had far exceeded all of my expectations. I wanted to know how Sharon had come so far in her skills.

She showed me the five pages of typed instructions that John had written out for her, just for the omelet preparation. What normally would have filled the front of an index card had been dissected into every possible decision and step so that Sharon would not be wondering about anything. Where to find the potato peeler. Where to put the peelings. Which knife to use and where to find it. How large the pieces of potato should be. Which pot should be used to boil the potatoes. Where to find it. How much water to put in the pot. What setting on the stove the burner should be at. How long to expect the potatoes to boil before soft. Etc. Etc. Etc. No detail was left out, and as a result we all enjoyed a delicious meal, proudly prepared and served by this loving wife, and lovingly taught by her amazing husband.

They have not been without difficulty. They have overcome obstacles that every couple faces, and some that not many couples face at all. They have never had children. There have been some physical ailments and illness. Sharon endured two failed and one successful attempt to have her ankle bones fused together (along with the successive months-long recoveries each time). She has two new knees. John has health problems, too. They have suffered some accusation and a generous amount of misunderstanding. But they indeed do love each other. Really love.

And their silver anniversary is a testament to the God that called them together and has held them together. Their faith is the glue of their lives as they daily call out to God for help and guidance.

So, CONGRATULATIONS to one of the most overcoming couples I know! May you enjoy many, many more years of joy together!