My Hands. Her Hands. His Hands.

So I spent part of my birthday with my mother.  This is an amazing thing when you consider that this is the first time in over 3 yrs. that I've decided on my own, without being asked by her, to visit.  The simple fact is that for the first time in my life she has earned my trust.  I trust her with my heart, I trust her with my children.  I've even trusted her with my cooking blog, which I was sure she'd rip apart with "constructive criticism".  She's only shown support.  This I am NOT used to.  But I'm accepting it and trusting that I'm not going to get hit upside the face with negativity when I least expect it.  I think, hope, as I always have, that it just won't happen.  It's a pretty big thing.  I think she really knows now not to mess with my kids, and though there have been times when she's been critical, I give them the are you okay? look and get a satisfactory answering nod and we skip right over it and try to enjoy her in all of her craziness.  She's crazy.  Absolutely bonkers.  And that makes for lots and lots of laughing. 

The single most critical healing episode in our relationship occurred this last Christmas Eve at my mother's house.  My husband, sons, and nephews were sprawled all over the living room and game room, even under the pool table, if I recall, fast asleep.  My stepfather was still crashed in the upstairs bedroom while my sis and her boyfriend were still in the guest bedroom, wiped out from our all night Monopoly game.  I was up early and then Mom came downstairs.  She made us coffee and then we took all of the German pastries we had out the night before to the dining room table and sat down and...talked.  Talked. 

We had never talked before.  It has always been a sore spot with me that the only mother/daughter talk we'd ever had in my life was when I was eighteen.  She'd told me that if she had to do it all over again she would have chosen to not have children.  I think in her mind she was giving me a fabulous bit of advice that no other woman from her generation would dare voice.  I know now that she was wishing at age forty with a preschooler that she had made other choices, and wanted me to explore my options and live my life before falling into the whole marriage/children "trap".  I knew this, understood where she was coming from, but I also understood her view on motherhood from a very early age.  She never liked it.

But here we were, sitting at the table sipping coffee together and TALKING.  I have subjects that I've promised myself are off limits with her, things we will never agree on that only make me feel bad, so I just steered us around those and it was lovely. 

Then we started talking a little in my message box on Facebook and have never stopped.  When she said something that just floored me, I saw that she is like me. She can write or type things that she could never say out loud.  Kind of like my little blog here.  I can't voice what I can bring myself to write here.   She typed in her message to me, "I have always loved you to the bottom of my soul!"  From day one as a mother, I have made it a point to make sure that my sons felt loved.  That I didn't just say it, but that they felt it without me having to open my mouth.  With her words I felt it, and I felt as if I finally had a real mom, rather than envying everyone elses. 

I bit the bullet and decided that since my dad was driving over to see me the day before my birthday to take me out for a birthday dinner, that I wanted to see my mom for my birthday too.  I rarely get to see my parents together since the divorce, so I figured that seeing them both in two days was as good as it gets.  And that's what I wanted for my birthday.

No monopoly, no vodka, or the usual Jack Daniels.  It was poker and mojitos at Mom's.  Oh my, we laughed until we cried...through the night.  And the whole time I couldn't stop looking at my mother's hands.  They were her mother's hands, but lacking the gnarled knuckles and bulging veins that my Oma earned with rough work.  Then I realized, as I looked down, that they were my hands.  The boys tease me and say that I look 28 until you look at my hands.  They are really showing my age and my knuckles are always nicked up this time of year from outside projects.  And, for the first time ever, I noticed a resemblance between me and my mother, a physical resemblance to her and her mother.  It was weird.  I don't look like her.  She has enormous, sparkling blue eyes like her mother.  I have my daddy's reddish brown hair and chestnut eyes.  But now I look down at my own and see my mother's hands.

Friday, I took my family with my dad and his wife on a Father's Day picnic.  My dad has never had to earn my trust or build a relationship with me.  He has never damaged ours so has never had to work to repair it.  We have been buddies since day one.  That was it.  Buddies.  I adore my father.   

We were standing on the river bank fishing when my dad walked past my son and me to give us the fabulous spot he found, going to find another. My son said, after Dad had moved on through the brush in his khakis, "Grandpa looks like someone you would see in The Walking Dead." I laughed and said, "Yup, that's my daddy. I wouldn't want to be in a zombie apocalypse with anyone else. We always said Indiana Jones reminded us of Dad. That's my daddy." He nodded, understanding completely. I love that my sons see how awesome he is too.  But then, when I was standing with Dad while we were tying fishing lures onto our lines,  I looked down at his hands.  They were my hands.  They were his father's hands.  I saw my hands and Grandpa's in them.  There were the same splotchy patches near the thumbs where his skin lacks pigment.  The same as my "reverse freckles".  

 Pretty cool.

Sensitive Mom, Sensitive Child

It helps to remember when things get difficult around here with my sensitive child, what it was like to be a sensitive 12 year old.  It was the worst year of my life.  Nothing that's ever happened since could be as traumatizing or defining.  It helps to remember, and thank goodness I remember like it was yesterday, but it doesn't always make it easy. 

We didn't have terrible twos or threes or fours.  It was tricky, especially before I learned about our personality type, but was never anything I couldn't handle with understanding, sensitivity, the occasional crack-down on absolute unacceptable behavior and a hug.  But I dreaded twelve with my little guy and here we are.  I can't help thinking, however, that it would be worse with a girl, for sure, because she would have been just like me, and that we could have had terrible twos, threes, and fours, but we didn't.  I also remind myself that an occasional bump in our road is nothing to worry about.

I could never call this The Terrible Twelves.  It just isn't terrible.  There are unpleasant moments that are few and far between.  I can live with that.  It will be okay.  He will be upset, but he will survive.  We will survive.  If I don't bail on him and hold his hormonal, sensitive kid outbursts against him, but remember what it's all about, we will be just fine.  If I take offense or don't look at the bigger picture but only in the moment of a frustrated outburst, I am stretching our bond-- that invisible rubber band that was created between each of my boys and myself that I promised from day one that I would never stretch or break.  Sigh.

Okay.  He has had a moment to calm down so I'm sure is ready to "need" his mama.  And in the words of Scarlet O'Hara, "tomorrow is another day".




Aw!  Sure enough.  My poor, sweet, little guy!  I love being the mom to these two precious boys.   Thanking my lucky stars for the privilege!

Now, I'm not a prude, but...

Thanks to a new series of commercials that seem to be flooding all channels at all hours of the day, my boys think there is such a thing as a vibrating condom and love to freak me out by going around singing, "Trojan Man!!!" 

Now, fortunately, they are both of an appropriate age and have had the safe sex talks and all the embarrassing (for Mom and Dad) questions answered that go along with such talks, and aren't toddlers who will go around from grandparent to grandparent repeating what they've been hearing on t.v.  Still.  Enough is enough.  Really.  I'm sure everyone that needs a condom this New Year's Eve knows where to find one and I feel that these commercials could at least be aired later in the day, not repeatedly in the middle of it when kids of all ages are home on Christmas break.  Though, I guess since they hand them out at school, I am just an old prude for not wanting my family bombarded with scenes of an overanxious couple at the pharmacy counter seeking protection and pleasure aids.  But if I hear "Trojan Man!" one more time in the middle of a family movie, I may just write a letter.  Seriously, this time.  I know I always say that, but I've got a pen and I'm not afraid to use it.  Better yet, I may just blog on the subject. 

It's A No-go As A Deo.

Well this is embarrassing...admitting that I'm an idiot and I stink.  My brilliant adaptation of a natural homemade deodorant seems to be lacking the deodorizing qualities I was looking for in a...deodorant. 

I just came in from my ridge top hike and then did 20 minutes on our elliptical machine thingy.  I stink.  Fortunately, there is a lingering beeswax/lavender scent intermingled with the stink, but I stink.  It didn't work.  I guess leaving out a few key ingredients, like baking soda and arrowroot, was a dumb idea.  I'm going to melt down one of my jars of goo and stir in baking soda to see if that helps.  The other I am leaving as is which, as it turns out, made a fabulous body butter.  My rosacea face seems to be happy with it too.

Going to take a shower now and then I'll be applying the "commercial stuff".

Natural Homemade Deodorant, Foot Lotion, Lip Balm, Rosacea Treatment...

I found a recipe for homemade deodorant last night when I was dealing with a bit of insomnia and had nothing better to do.  I wish I could find a recipe for an insomnia cure, but anyway, this recipe sounded promising.  It was from Homesteading Self Sufficiency Survival's Facebook page.  I can get away with using Himalayan salt crystals and solei in the winter for deodorant, but as soon as the weather warms up I have to go for the toxic, commercial stuff. So I am always in search of a natural solution for antiperspirant/deodorant. 

The "commercial stuff" that I was buying for my family, which used to contain titanium but not aluminum, is now made with aluminum.  Since I have seen firsthand how Alzheimer's can affect the mind, when my sweet grandmother was afflicted with the disease, I do what I can to avoid anything that has been suspected to be implicated in causing the disease.  Aluminum has been named as a culprit, but has been played down in recent years as a cause.  I am not taking my chances that in 10 or 20 years it will be renamed as a cause, and use aluminum freely in the meantime.  I avoid cooking in aluminum pans as much as possible, and rarely use aluminum foil.  When I do, I try not to let it come in contact with food.  Rubbing aluminum containing deodorant on my arm pits every day is out of the question.

This afternoon I took what was left of a bottle of almond oil, a jar of coconut oil, and the last drops of three bottles of lavender oil and combined them with a few drops of tea tree oil and a good 30 drops of grapefruit seed extract and a bar of beeswax to make a balmy lotion, using the deodorant recipe I found last night and my own for lip balm as inspiration. 

It worked for the rest of the day as a deodorant.  I will hike with it tomorrow to see if it can stand the test of some real perspiring.  Pretty picture, I know, but you gotta do what you gotta do.  Growing boys and young men aren't supposed to topically use lavender oil but if my homemade balm stands up to the back ridge hike for Mama, I may make a lavender-free version for them and see if we can get the "commercial stuff" out of the house for good.

Here is as close to the recipe as I can relate.  I eyeballed the whole thing and will try to duplicate it using this approximate recipe the next time, if it works out well. 

Homemade Beeswax and Natural Oil Deodorant

1/4 c. almond oil
10 drops lavender oil
1/2 c. unrefined, cold-pressed, virgin coconut oil
Block of beeswax (1/4 c., maybe?)
30 drops grapefruit seed extract
3 drops tea tree oil

Combine almond oil, lavender oil, grapefruit seed extract, and tea tree oil.  Shake well.  Heat coconut oil and beeswax over very low heat, swirling until wax melts.  I took it off the heat, periodically, and let the warmth of the pan and coconut oil melt the wax slowly so I wouldn't overheat the coconut oil and kill any of the beneficial properties of it.  Add the oils and stir until combined.  Pour into jars or molds and allow to cool completely.
I had intended to include baking soda in my recipe, as the original deodorant recipe called for, but completely forgot.

I have been using grapefruit seed extract and water for the last few weeks on my face rather than soap, cleanser, or the sulphur ointment I had been using for the last year and a half for rosacea.  It works well, but I am still experimenting with other natural ingredients, refusing to submit to lifelong use of topical antibiotics to treat my skin condition.  I basically don't wash my face anymore, just use the diluted grapefruit seed extract.  It's a bad time of year to experiment, though, because my rosacea is so mild in the colder months.  It's the humid, hot, sunscreen season that is so bad.  But I guess maybe I will get a more accurate test with new products by trying them in the winter.  I researched beeswax ointments before putting my new balm on my face.  Sounds promising.  It could go either way, though, since each individual rosacea sufferer differs from the next.  My face may mellow out or go completely haywire.  We'll see, I guess.

I did try it out by rubbing it all over after my bath, however, and my skin, especially my hands and feet, are butter soft.  No post shaving stinging under my arms like solei produces, either.  Nice!

I think I would try it anyhere but on my hair.  I don't think a beeswax based product would make a good conditioner.  You never know, though.  I may end up trying that too!
 


Update: 
Whoops!  Check out the results of my experiment.   It's a No-go As A Deo.

Again, he makes me cry. And this time in PUBLIC!

Okay.  This just about did me in, and in a crowded coffee shop, no less.  It doesn't help that I've probably been more inexplicably weepy the last few days than I've been in my life, but Single Dad Laughing's follow up post to Anything Other Than Straight just emphasized what I was thinking about when I read his coming out post.  And Then I Heard It actually had me holding my breath, sitting on the edge of my seat, biting my tongue and wanting to fix everthing for someone I don't even know.  LOVE unconditionally.

Commando-like Courage!

I think of all the things that I'm afraid of, silly things in my little life that take courage, and the little "problems" that keep me awake at night, and then I read something like this and realize what true bravery is.  Single Dad Laughing's newest post, Anything Other Than Straight.  I've already seen his courage in the posts, I'm Christian, Unless You're Gay and 16 Ways I Blew My Marriage, but his latest took some serious gumption to write.  When reading it, I was reminded again that I have no problems, no reason to be up worrying at night, nothing to complain about, no reason to feel uncomfortable in my own skin when there are people struggling so hard just to be allowed to say who they are. 

I am fed up with the ridiculous notion that homosexuality is a choice.  I think that anyone who believes that has never had a conversation with someone who is gay.  As a straight an as arrow female who was always attracted to the opposite sex, I never understood homosexuality until I did open my mind and begin conversing on the subject, right from the source.  The act of homosexuality literally turns my stomach because I am not gay.  But that doesn't mean it isn't real!  Heterosexuality may seem just as revolting to a person of same-sex orientation.  I soon began to see it from another point of view when a homosexual co-worker told me that even though he had been in a relationship with his partner for 20 years, he still couldn't tell his parents because his father would have disowned him and his mother would have keeled right over from a massive heart attack, the shock would have been so great.  As a mother, this was one of the most heartbreaking things I had ever heard.  Of course I would want my children at any age to be able to come to me with anything.  Of course I would accept them for who they are no matter what.  How sad that some parents have conditions.

Then I imagined how it would feel if the majority of people were homosexual and if homosexuality was the "norm" and heterosexuals were expected to conform, to pray the straight away as homophobes expect homosexuals to "pray the gay away".  Could I force myself to be a homosexual to fit into society and keep my family happy if that were the norm?  No way.  How ridiculous is that?! Celibacy would be my life choice and I'm sure it would be a sad, miserable, fearful life to hide what I really felt.  I can't do that to anyone else, so even though I'm straight, I can't think less of someone who courageous enough to face criticism for living their true lives.  I don't think anyone should.  And I don't mean that I "love them anyway".  I'm sick to death of such statements, I mean that I really get it.  I can never relate, but I see it.  What I mean is that everyone should take another look and really see what your Bible says about it if that's the premise you are so adamant to stand on concerning homosexuality.

And anyone who wants to quote Leviticus to me (yes I've read 18:22 and studied the entire book) should read every verse to gain understanding, particularly chapters 18-20.  Along with famed "thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind" is the law that menstruating women should not be approached but separated from all of society because they are unclean, two different seeds should not be planted in the same field, any man with any blemishes such as "a flat nose", "blind", "broken handed", "a dwarf", "scabbed" were not to be allowed to make an offering to God, hair and beards were not to be trimmed, no marks or cuttings upon the body were to be made, no garment was to mingled of wool and linen, and if you planted a fruit tree you were not to even dare eat the fruit for three years. 

So...until people quit cutting their hair and shaving, stop square-foot gardening, wearing wool blend clothing and hanging earrings from holes in their ears, noses, lips, whatever, and women start "going to the river" every month because they are "unclean" I don't think they should say one word against homosexuality.  A beard trim is apparently as much an abomination to God as homosexuality.  It is what it is.  And for those who want to preach all day, the Bible states what it states.  You can't focus on one portion and ignore the rest.  Well I guess you can if you want to and there lies the problem.

So why these days in modern times do we trim beards and hair, square-foot garden, wear wool blends, put holes in our ears to dangle earrings from, when they were all marked as abominations in the Old Testament?  You could say that the old ways are no longer relevant.  You could say, if a Christian, as evangelicals preach every day, that when Christ sacrificed himself for mankind, the need to follow the old laws was eliminated.  So what of homosexuality?  I don't know.  I just refuse to believe that someone of a homosexual orientation is sinning by being who they were made to be by the same creator that made me, and I applaud the commando-like courage it takes for anyone to stand for what they believe and say "This is who I am!".

Single Dad Laughing had this married mom sniffling in her coffee this morning.  BRAVO!!