One year ago, my daughter and son-in-law were awaiting the birth of their first child. Early in her pregnancy, she asked me so many questions — what was my pregnancy like, how did I feel, was I scared, nervous, confident, what was labor like, etc., etc., etc. Now, my Darling Daughter is the love of my life but I also know her shortcomings. To say that I was nervous about my baby having a baby would be an understatement. Darling Daughter of mine, an only child, was very used to having things a certain way, more importantly, her way! Sleeping late, shopping when she wanted, visiting friends, taking trips — these things were very shortly to be replaced with making formula and washing unending loads of wash and trying to find time to just take a shower. Yes indeed, I was just a tad apprehensive about this.
But somewhere around the fourth month, the same time that they found out that they would be having a GrandDolly, there were these subtle changes. I felt DD was becoming very comfortable with the idea of this baby, probably because she was able to put a name to the little dumpling inside of her. The bonding between mother and child had begun much earlier for DD than it had for me. The more I thought about this phenomenon, the more sense it made to me. DD was able to become acquainted with her child before she met her and was therefore more connected to her after she was born. Because of this, I think it was easier for her to assimilate the changes that were occurring in her body and in her life — and letting her know that being pregnant was just the beginning, with many more changes to come. Darling Daughter was growing up and without any prodding from me!
A second phenomenon that I observed shortly after the birth of this child was the dreaded Overzealous Grandparent Syndrome — easily identified by the pictures spewing from every grandfather’s pocket and grandmother’s handbag and the “Ask me about my grandchildren” tee shirts. I was always one of those pooh-pooh people that couldn’t believe how ridiculous grown people could act over a baby because I would NEVER be one of those grandparents. (Can you say sanctimonious, brothers and sisters?) Never say never. I will say that I have a lot of pictures but I don’t carry them with me — well not all of them. And I absolutely wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those tee shirts. Put on one of those and granny strings on your eyeglasses won’t be far behind. But I have to tell you, everything this little Dolly does is simply brilliant in my book and I find that I have to keep stopping myself from singing her praises to strangers. She is closing in on her first birthday and has started walking and talking and has this penchant for trying to figure out how all kinds of things work — she just loves my dishwasher, light switches and doorknobs. It’s amazing how a pair of big blue eyes with tiny little hands held up for you to pick her up will turn this grown person into mush in a heartbeat. Without a doubt, the phenomenon of unconditional love between GrandDolly and grandparents is a joyful and miraculous thing to experience.
This is just my humble opinion on the topic of “Phenomenon” — for more humble opinions and other ways of looking at it, check out Sunday Scribblings.
Today, I officially do not care if weeds grow on our property or not. Nor will I care tomorrow, or the next tomorrow, etc.
I got up bright and early Sunday with a plan to clean out some brush near Sweet Baboo’s garden. I wanted to get an early start because I don’t work well in the heat.
So I pulled and cut and piled and
sweatted sweated perspired my little heart out. It looks magnificent, I must say. After about an hour, I stopped, poured a cup of coffee, took a shower and sat on the deck reading and patting myself on the back for a job well done. Not once did I feel the tell-tale tingles that precede a breakout.
Now, I’ve had poison ivy just about every summer since I was a kid. I know what it looks like. I swear, I didn’t see anything that looked like it. I’m wondering if since I’m so allergic to Poison Ivy that I might be allergic to something else somewhat like it. Any which way — my face is covered with it — from wiping my arms across my face to get rid of the sweat. And my arms are covered — and my legs are covered — you get the idea. I’m so miserable that instead of sleeping, I’m sewing and blogging. Our waterbed is too warm. Every time I lay down, the heat starts up the itching again. Benadryl is supposed to stop the itch, but I can’t be sure that it does because whenever I take it, my legs start up with Restless Leg Syndrome. Not at all pleasant. My face is very swollen and weeping — right now, ice is about the only thing that stops the itch.
Staying home tomorrow is not an option, because we are already one girl short. The only saving grace right now is that the doc I work for is going to give me an RX for Prednisone. I can’t wait to get to work tomorrow!!
I’m not sure where I got this meme. It’s been in my draft folder for weeks/months. The rules are simple: Each answer has to start with the same letter as the first letter of your name and if an answer is a place name it should be real, not fictional. If someone who answers before you has the same first letter, try to come up with different answers than they did. Feel free to play if you so desire. And so……
Your name: Marcy
A type of tree or shrub: Magnolia
Something an astronaut would study: Microgravity
Eight-letter word: Mellow
A sports team (any sport): Montreal Canadiens (does that count? If not, Maple Leafs)
A character in movie or play: Matt Hooper (Jaws)
A nickname (or endearment) for someone you like: My pet
Something that could get you arrested: Motor vehicle theft
Something you’d take to a picnic: Macaroni salad
A reason someone might get an award, medal, or trophy: Making the best pie at the county fair.
Something that makes you smile: Mimosas
I am notorious for baking only during the cooler months. It was one of the first things that I warned Sweet Baboo about me. But a few nights ago, he got this look on his face — it was his “gee, I wish I could have something chocolate” face. I just go to mush when I see that face, so I hauled out my cookbook (okay, computer) and found this recipe for cookies. Very easy to make, BUT!!!! you MUST boil the chocolate combination on the stove for exactly one minute!! No more no less!! Too little and it won’t harden — too much and it will become brittle and explode! (Just kidding about the exploding.)
2 cups granulated sugar (I made mine with 1 1/2 cups — didn’t notice a difference)
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
1/2 cup butter
3 cups quick oats (don’t use the old fashioned – I know from experience)
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Place oats, peanut butter and vanilla extract in a large bowl. Set aside.
Combine sugar, milk, cocoa and butter in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil; boil 1 minute (no longer and no less!). Remove from heat. Pour over oat mixture**; stir well.
Drop by large spoonfuls onto wax paper and let cool.
**Based on my own klutziness, I chose to pour the oatmeal into the chocolate combination. From experience, pouring hot anything is not a good idea for me!!
A friend sent this to me and I think it is 6 very well wasted minutes that you should watch — maybe not totally laugh out loud, but it’s really cute.
Aha!! Did you chuckle? Didn’t it feel good? I knew it!!
If you would like to read other MUCH-more-interesting-than-mine-this-week- Sunday Scribblings postings, CLICK HERE!!
My mind has been playing with this topic now for a few days and I’m sorry to say that not much bubbles up. The American Heritage Dictionary has all kinds of things to say about this word — the one below seemed to fit the bill for me.
wicked – Definitions from Dictionary.com
American Heritage Dictionary – Cite This Source
wick·ed (wĭk’ĭd) Pronunciation Key
adj. wick·ed·er, wick·ed·est
1. Evil by nature and in practice: “this wicked man Hitler, the repository and embodiment of many forms of soul-destroying hatred” (Winston S. Churchill).
2. Playfully malicious or mischievous: a wicked prank; a critic’s wicked wit.
3. Severe and distressing: a wicked cough; a wicked gash; wicked driving conditions.
4. Highly offensive; obnoxious: a wicked stench.
5. Slang: Strikingly good, effective, or skillful: a wicked curve ball; a wicked imitation
Maybe it’s a New England thing, but wicked is not a word that I use extensively, especially in the sense of bad/immoral/mean/rotten/sinful blah, blah, blah. (I have lots of other, much more (ahem) creative, although not totally original, words that I use when I need to express myself negatively. Perhaps there will be a Sunday Scribblings topic devoted to that particular subject in the future!!) Instead, I seem to use it as an adjective as listed in #5 above- to enhance the adverb, usually in the positive — as in wicked good. And also as in, it’s wicked easy to get off the track while blogging — as I was putting this post together, I managed to visit and leave comments on 7 or 8 other wicked great to read blogs!!
My arthritic thumb has finally gotten the best of me. Sweet Baboo made this frame for me a few years ago and I used it extensively, but not so much in the last 5 years or so. It’s a beautiful piece, but it’s a shame for it to sit in my sewing/craft/home office room when someone could be using it. These pics should be clickable so that you can see them larger. (Please ignore the debris in the background of the pictures. I took these pictures about a year ago when we were putting in our new carpeting so all of my “stuff” roamed from room to room until we were finished.) If you have any questions, please leave them in the comment box below and they will be forwarded to me.
Quilt frame – a photoset on Flickr