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For years Lily has had two criteria for her clothes:
1. The clothes must be soft to the touch.
2. Absolutely, positively no tags.
Taking Lily clothes shopping is a fairly easy expedition. Lily simply walks down the rack touching each garment and if it meets her touch and tag requirements we're golden.
Until recently, it didn't matter what the clothes looked like. As long as the clothes were soft and tagless Lily was happy. Now, Lily has added a third criteria: Color. Lots and lots and lots of COLOR!!!!! Stripes, polka dots, and flowers in one outfit? You betcha! Just give her color!
My oh my! Half the time you need sunglasses to be able to gaze upon Lily's latest ensemble. Oddly enough Lily is not wearing her Hello Kitty rain boots in either of these photos. Totally surprising since I could almost swear that they NEVER leave her feet - rain or shine!
I am getting the biggest kick out of seeing Lily's emerging "fashion sense". I never know what she may come down the steps wearing. What I do know is that Lily will love how she looks and I absolutely love that!
Speaking of fashion sense, Lily and I went shopping the other day and I was totally disgusted. I know I'm old-fashioned...well...let's face it - I'm just plain old. But, why on earth would I want to put my almost 6 year old in a pair of sweatpants that has "Diva" written across the bottom in rhinestones???? Or dress her in leopard print??? Seriously??? Why do so many retailers assume that when a child goes from wearing a size 5 to a size 6 or 6X you want to go from dressing them at Babies 'R Us to dressing them at Hoochies 'R Us????
I could go on and on, but I won't. The air gets pretty thin up here on my soapbox! Thankfully, there are still plenty of retailers (Land's End, Gymboree, Hannah Anderson, etc.) that I can count on to meet Lily's 3 criteria and my number one criteria of keeping the little in my little girl for as long as I can!
We settled on Dad's house on Friday. It's over. The canvas to most of my childhood memories is now just that - a memory. Suprisingly, I find myself strangely at peace about it.
The couple that bought Mom and Dad's house are positively precious. They love the house and were an absolute joy to deal with. That has helped me with this transition immeasureably. The thought of our house in the hands of someone who didn't love it was unbearable. I didn't want it "flipped" or used as a rental property. I wanted it to be someone's home. A happy home. I believe it will be.
When the new owners had the home inspected they were in the house with the inspector for hours...and hours. Needless to say, we were worried and waited for a laundry list of requests and repairs. Do you want to know what they asked for?
I mean the *only* thing they asked for????
They asked if they could keep the fish in the fish ponds!!!! No, I'm not kidding!!!
We couldn't believe it. Mom and Dad's house definitely needs work and there was plenty that they could've and probably should've asked for. But, no, all they asked for is the fish that - truth be told - not one of us had ever given a second thought.
There was a time when Mom and Dad's yard and ponds were their pride and joy. I love that this couple shares the same interests.
All of us met at Mom and Dad's on Thursday night for one last time. I love that we have each other to walk this journey with. We actually had a really fun time reminiscing about "the house that built us."
Want to take a little stroll down memory lane with me? Here we go...
Home Sweet Home!
Dad let each of us write and draw on the living room wall before he hung that fake brick paneling. When the new owners take that paneling down they'll find my contribution - "I love Ishmael" written all over the place in my very best 8th grade handwriting.
The view out the Living Room window where Dad sat and watched his neighbor let their dog out "to take a whiz" while he waited to call 911.
The hallway back to our bedrooms that seemed impossibly long when I was being sent to my room as a kid.
The one bathroom our family of 6 shared for most of our lives. I don't think we ever considered it a hardship. It was just our norm.
The bedroom I shared first with Mary Beth and later with Patti. If you look closely I'm sure you can see the floorboard that separated my half of the room from Mary Beth's or Patti's.
You might also be able to see where my poster of Mikhail Baryshnikov once hung. The only poster I ever hung in my room and, boy oh boy, did I have a wicked crush on that man!
Oh, and those are the windows I sneaked out of and the Peeping Tom looked into.
Mom and Dad's bedroom...and then Mary Beth's bedroom...and then Mom and Dad's bedroom.
The closet...I mean bedroom...Patti and Don shared for way too many years. They both seem remarkably well adjusted considering...
The Dining Room where we shared so many family dinners...no matter what...you were home for dinner! Absolutely one of my favorite childhood memories and one I am continuing with my own family.
The kitchen where Mom drank countless cups of coffee and watched "her birds" out the window for hours.
Where we ate our dinner when our table manners weren't quite up to snuff! Not naming any names...Donald...but some of us spent more time eating on the steps than others!
The basement Dad finished himself. The home to countless parties...some Mom and Dad even knew about! Seriously. One room should not contain so many, many memories.
Before the basement was finished it was just about the scariest place on earth. That notwithstanding, we would still ride our bikes down here, play ping pong, Foosball, and basically burn off energy on rainy days. We also raised rabbits, gerbils, and the occasional field mouse in this basement.
Once Dad finished the basement we had innumerable family get togethers with everyone gathered around the bar. Not only was this our Family Room it doubled as Mom and Dad's bedroom for many, many years.
That's right, Mom and Dad slept on a pull out sofa in the basement for more years than I can remember so that Don and Patti wouldn't have to share a bedroom any longer.
I don't know how much money Mom and Dad paid to have this fireplace installed, but I know they definitely got every penny's worth! They literally always kept the home fires burning!
I distinctly remember one Christmas Eve Patti and I throwing a fit (okay, I was the only one in our family that actually threw fits) because we were worried Santa Claus would get burned coming down the chimney. Dad did his best to appease us by saying if it was too hot Santa would use the door. Patti and I weren't buying it. So our sweet dad sprinkled water in the fireplace to cool it down. You can only imagine how much smoke was produced and the terrible odor it created. Of course, Dad knew that would happen but he did it anyway! Ah, the things you will do to quiet your tantruming child!
The built-in cabinets Dad made from old church pews. Above it hung each of our wedding pictures. We called it "The Wedding Wall". Of course Mary Beth and Ed and Mom and Dad were the only ones that never needed to have those pictures updated!
The bar Dad made from paneling and pieces of hardwood flooring.
Around this bar we did our homework, played board games, solved the problems of the universe, wrapped Christmas presents, drank beer, and spent countless
happy hours...and Happy Hours. If this bar could talk, the stories it would tell!
The unfinished part of the basement. All these years later and it still gives me the creeps!!! The only redeeming thing about this part of the basement is that it is was home to the fridge with rounded corners that kept the beer perfectly ice cold.
Our Peace Sign tree. There used to be a wagon wheel chained to this tree...and I think Mom might have been chained to it, too. Whenever you would ask Mom what she'd been up to she would always say she had spent the afternoon outside "picking up sticks". It became a running family joke...Mom just never knew!
There used to be a log cabin playhouse back here where we would hold "club" meetings and charge dues. This was the home to countless baseball and kickball games. The place where we would plan elaborate camp outs and thanks to "Bird Man" or our ornery father more times than not we'd end up back in the house before the night was over.
This is where Mom and Dad practically spent their life savings feeding the birds and putting salt blocks out for the deer. This was the playground not only for the 4 of us and the neighborhood kids, but for Hennessey, Doodles, 4 baby chicks (and a poorly timed visit from a fox) and more domestic rabbits than I care to remember.
Dad also had a huge garden back here. Rows upon rows of corn, zucchini, tomatoes, and more. I loved working in the garden with Dad and eating veggies right off the vine. The garden got smaller and smaller over the years until it was completely gone, but I still remember it in all its glory.
I used to always be afraid that Indians would come out of the woods in the back of the yard and attack Dad while we worked in the garden. I believe a few snakes and an underground bee hive are the only things that ever actually "attacked" Dad while he worked in the garden. In fact, I think the garden was one of the places Dad was happiest.
I remember Mom and Dad "putting up" jars and jars of stewed tomatoes and other vegetables. I also remember having our own little vegetable stand in the front yard because Dad grew more vegetables than our family of 6 could possibly eat!
The Circle and the flagpole Dad worked to install. I must have walked around this circle a million times and driven around it even more. Okay, I'll admit, I also drove through it and the wrong way around it more than a few times, too.
And how many times when giving directions did each of us say, "It's the second house past the circle on the right"?
You know what? It's so much more than the second house past the circle on the right. It's more than bricks, mortar, and a bunch of sticks! It's our home - and it always will be!
6 months ago today Dad died unexpectedly - albeit with 6 weeks warning.
In many ways it feels like Dad has been gone much longer. Somehow, at the same time, I still have to stop myself from calling him 100 times a day.
I miss Dad terribly. Not surprising. What is surprising (to me) is that I don't spend all day every day crying. Seriously.
Before Dad died I really couldn't imagine life without him. Obviously, I knew Dad would not live forever. I did, however, think Dad would live much longer than he did.
I always pictured Dad as an old man. You know, wearing a cardigan, walking with a cane, and still charming everyone in a 5 mile radius. Now, I know there are some people who would say 77 is an old man. They're wrong. Dad was a very young 77 with a lot of living left to do.
When I reflect back on the end of Dad's life I am incredibly grateful for the time we had together not only on the day Dad died, but also in the weeks leading up to his death.
The 6 weeks between Dad's mesothelioma diagnosis and the heart attack that took his life were a gift. Each of us...and most importantly Dad...had time to digest what was happening and in the end Dad...and all of us...were spared the terrible death that mesothelioma most certainly would have brought.
I believe it is that knowledge that continues to bring me comfort and helps to assuage my grief.
