So last weekend we packed up and headed to the country, we were having Pyper's birthday in Ironton. I packed up our car and then picked up two of my sisters kids and we headed to my parents house. I find such comfort in going home, and staying in the house I grew up in.
In an essence it still feels like home, it is warm, welcoming and kid friendly. I feel as if I can unwind when I arrive, let my guard down.
We get in around 8pm, unload and gather around the kitchen table. I grab a bottle of wine, the guys grab beers and we sit to catch up while the kids run around and play. Everyone is glad to be in this house.
My parents are a great source of comfort for me. We start with small talk, 'how are things going, how is work etc'. Apparently my parents barn had fallen down due to the recent snow, the weight of the snow was too much for the old barn to bear. So now my parents are in the process of having a new one built. Normally this would be a fairly easy process, but nothing is easy when it involves my mom.
My mom looks at me with such excitement and says ' do you know what I have asked your father to do to the outside of the barn, the side that I can see when I look out the kitchen window.' I start thinking, and put my mother in perspective and realize that whatever it is has to be a bit off the wall and i reply 'it has to involve the 9 grandchildren, do you want him to paint a picture?' She is about to burst at the seams, 'no, but close' she manages to get out.
She is sitting next to my dad, who at this time is rolling his eyes.
I am giggling to myself - it sure is nice to be home.
She says ' I have asked your father to outline each one of the kids. You know line them up and spray paint their out line, I would like them to be holding hands. How cute would that be?'
I laugh out loud - I have visions of having to wrap my children in plastic so my father can outline them, then I have visions of them chocking on the paint. This vision of hers has disaster written all over it.
My father is an auto body man, he has catered to my mothers whims and this will be another opportunity to do so. For instance, while I was in high school my father got a 1965 convertible-Cadillac and painted pink for my mother (not mary kay pink). He mixed up his own pink color, and brought it home for her. She loved it, and so did my brother at the time. We rode around in a small town in a pink Cadillac. You can imagine how we stuck out. We had to remain a tight knit family, because we never really fit in. My mother has never cared what any thought about her, her fashion sense always pushed the small town limit. Although me and my sister always found her to be really fashionable, the local town folk, frowned at her attire and attitude towards raising her children. She always had a new hair color and a new hair cut. This was my life growing up. We always had cars and clothes that made us stick out a bit. We never had anything, new - we loved the resale shops and found cheap clothes we could make trendy.
At 50 my mother got a boob-job, from the time I was little she talked about how small her boobs were, her dream was to have 'big' boobs. So at 50 she got them. Even now, she is hip, trendy and eccentric. I love her for that - but have to admit there are times when even she is off the wall.
My father will have to do something to the barn to make it special for her, who knows what it will be. It will have to involve her 9 grandchilden who she loves dearly.
My parents are avid Harley riders. Last summer they went to Alaska.
I sat around the table last weekend and thanked god I had them in my life. If there is one thing you can bet on, things are always interesting when my mother is around, and for that we thank-her.