Thanks, Mom.

Here's a picture of my Mom and I, ready to go to a rodeo in Jordan...at least that's what it says on the back of the picture, in her beautiful, precise handwriting. I was not quite one year old, but already in bell bottoms, and I don't know if you can tell, because the picture is a little faded, but we have MATCHING tank tops! (1972, so they were polyester. We were hot. Literally.) You can't really see, but she's wearing pointy-toed cowboy boots with black tips, I think.

As I sit here, trying to type a tribute to my Mom, with jelly faced kids climbing on me, and fighting like raccoons, I have a MUCH greater appreciation for who she was, and how much of her life she devoted to us.

She was an older mama, just like me, in the day when most women became mothers at 19 or 20. And she lived in a little trailer house on a hill, just like me, when her kids were toddlers and preschoolers. She went from being an independant, working girl with a red GTO convertable, to a stay-at-home mom and ranchwife that had to fit the whole family in the cab of a pickup.

Here are a few memories I have of my Mom, from when I was growing up:

There was always coffee, and the house usually smelled like coffee. I love that!

She had a most impressive record collection, because when she was single, I think she bought music before food. As kids, we learned to appreciate Patsy Cline, Jim Reeves, The Sound of Music and a funky little album called Groovy Grubworm.

Mom made us all the cool childhood treats: Jello blocks, Rice Krispie treats, chocolate chip cookies, and cinnamon toast. BUT, if you pretended like you were sick to stay home from school because you didn't like the teacher, she would make you toast soaked in warm milk. (She could be THAT mean! I think I have the recipe, for another little girl who may do that...)

She read, constantly. There were books everywhere, and we went to the library often. And we got a LOT of books at garage sales. For me, books are still security and comfort, and I think they must cut down on energy costs by insulating your home if you line the walls with them.

Mom took (and still takes) horrible photographs of people. It's one of the things I love best about her. There are a lot of pictures with the tops of heads cut off, or people too far away, or a little blurry. I love that she spent more time enjoying friends and family, rather than practicing taking pictures of them. She'll hurry and try to get the shot, because she's been busy visiting or playing with the kids. Love it!

My Mom really took time with people, and made them feel special. She would stop what she was doing to have coffee with someone who dropped by, or if one of her friends was needing time and love, she'd forgo mopping the floor to listen to their problems. When we got home from school, we'd sit at the table with her and eat graham crackers with frosting and talk about our day. And my Gramps loved to visit with her, and have coffee. Even though she didn't get all the stuff done on her list, most days, she got more done, relationally, than a lot of people do in a lifetime.

She wasn't afraid to be silly. What a relief to children! Mom enjoyed the Apple Dumpling Gang with us, and books like How Fletcher Was Hatched. She'd laugh until she cried, and we'd laugh at her! And when Aunt Arlene came over and they gave each other perms, they laughed a lot and drank a lot of coffee. We could never figure out what was so funny, and they shooed us outside or downstairs, and visited and laughed more.

We were hugged a lot. And told we were loved, a lot. And we still are.

We got spanked a lot. With wooden spoons. (We earned most of those spankings, honestly.) And we spent some time sitting in hard old kitchen chairs, watching the clock slowly tick the minutes to freedom.

Mom got up, first thing in the morning, and drank her coffee and read in her Bible and her Daily Bread, and prayed. That was the first thing we saw, most mornings. It was her quiet time, her get-ready-for-the-day time, her little window of calm before the storm of life hit.

There are so many little things and big things that can't even be touched by a blog post, about Mom. I've never really tried to put them down, in writing, and find it really difficult to capture her with words. How do you describe a mother's hug, or her voice, or her funny little habits, or the things that drive you wild that make a mother a mother? Well, I can't do it justice, probably not in a million years.

The Carnation

Does your church give carnations to all the mothers, on Mother's Day? Ours does, and it's a sweet acknowledgement, but sometimes it can be bittersweet.

We did not have these babies easily, here in the Pluhar house. We had been married about two years when I had an ectopic or tubal pregnancy. The really rough thing was that the doctor told us I was pregnant on a Friday, so we went home and told all our family. So exciting! On Monday, they determined through tests that it was tubal, and must be removed, because if it ruptured, I would bleed to death. So, after thinking we were going to be parents for 3 days, it was immediately over with an emergency surgery. That was in September.

I guess I didn't really want to think about it, or deal with it, so when the doctor told us we could start trying right away, again, we did. My sister had her first baby in February, and I had the great privilege of being there for the birth! But I ended up in the pickup, afterward, crying because it really hit me that I had missed that.

We went to church on Mother's Day, in May, and all the mothers were getting their carnations and smiling, and it was SO hard to sit there and watch. I was happy for them, of course, but it really stung and there was an ache in my heart, because I SO badly wanted to be a mommy!

Well, I went through 3 more of those Mother's Days, with no carnation. It sounds silly, really, but that little symbol meant a lot to me. It got almost to where I couldn't stand it when May rolled around, and that Sunday loomed. But, finally, in May of 2004, I was pregnant...still no carnation, but there was the promise of one the following year!

So, that first Mother's Day with our little Maggie, I proudly dressed us both in blue dresses and headed determinedly to church to get my carnation! It was pink. I sat in the pew with Wayland, holding that flower and crying, and I know he couldn't figure out what in the world was going on! I held on to that carnation all day, and when we got home, it was a little fraggled, but still pretty to me.

Every year, now, it's a big thing to me to get my carnation. But as I sit there with it, I'm always looking a little for those women who are studiously reading their bulletins, trying to be brave. If they are close, I try to give them a special greeting. I know better than to say anything, because it's a pretty fragile little dam, holding those tears back, trying to maintain all the dignity they can. But I say special prayers, always, every Mother's Day, for them...whether I see them or not.

This year, because our car is "broke" as Maggie says, I probably won't make it to get my carnation. But that's okay. I have a whole lot of dandelions, instead!

C.U.P.S. New blog!

For those of you who are wondering what happened to C.U.P.S. (Coffee Under Pretense of School)...

First of all, a wave of illness, rain and "work" caused a severe drop in attendance, this spring. And considering there are only three members of the club, it was pretty dismal. You wouldn't believe how LONG the week is, when we don't get that break in the middle, to laugh and eat!

Now, preschool is over, so we've lost the reason/excuse/duty to take children to town for three hours.
Dang.

Do not fear! C.U.P.S. is NOT disbanding!! We are making alternate plans for the summer, and will report as soon as we get it together, in the next couple of weeks.

But, don't look for the report here. Or at Farmchick's Frantics. Or at Country Wife, Country Life.

C.U.P.S. now has it's OWN BLOG!!!

http://montanachicksinthesticks.blogspot.com

So far, only two posts. But we're working on it. Check in once and a while, and see what's shaking in the cupboard!

It's all in how you look at it...

Dandelions.

Scourge of the yard, or drops of sunshine from God?

My daughter and son are absolutely GIDDY, with all the dandelions in our yard. You can see by my title banner that there are, well, an epidemic of these plants.

Maggie brings them to me by the FISTFUL, exultant in her flowery-glory, and the ability to give me blossoms without scoldings. "Look Mommy! Look at all the flowers I picked for you! Aren't they beautiful?"

Yes, they are, sort of. But I'm still determined to eliminate them from my flowerbed (?), so I keep working at it.

Angus comes tromping over, with a dandelion head in each hand...no stem that I can see...and wants to add them to his sister's bounty. After some consideration, we decide to float them in the blue birdbath, and this tickles him to no end. Boats! I tell him thank you and kiss a sandy little cheek, and he replies, "You wumpum, Mommy!"

Well, shoot! How can you hate a plant that makes your children so happy? I think I still can, maybe.

When I turn back to my task, I realize I may have grown some prize-winning dandelion plants. They would intimidate Martha Stewart for a couple of minutes, I think. Big honkin weeds, I tell you.

But as I dig and dig those wretched plants up, I make some exciting discoveries: big honkin earthworms!!! Maybe dandelions add great nutrients to the soil to attract earthworms. You think? Maybe they aren't so bad after all.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have about 57 dandelions to put in a Kerr jar, with a little girl breathing down my neck to be sure I do it just right.

Maybe they ARE little drops of sunshine from God....

At the request of a Grandma...

...and to her great amusement, I'm sure...I'm posting these organic pictures of my darling children. The four year old spokesperson justified their decision to wallow in the mud as a result of totally unreasonable parents refusing to let them fill the wading pool that day. In her words: "But Mommy, we just HAVE to cool off SOMEHOW!"

To the auntie in Kentucky, who posted pictures of her daughter delicately making mud streams, here are the cousins we warned you about....

SAHM I am

I've been rolling this post around in my head for a couple of days, unsure of how to approach it. I don't want to start a rumble or cause misunderstanding or create feelings of defensiveness with my few faithful readers. So here's the deal. Just read it, with some graciousness, please. And for heaven's sake, comment! Even if you don't agree. Even if you think I'm off the deep end. (Especially if you think I'm off the deep end, because then I'll know I need counselling!)

I just finished the book by Dr. Laura Schlessinger (No! Wait! Just hear me out!) titled In Praise of Stay at Home Moms. It was pretty straightforward, and really kicked me in the butt, as far as my recent attitude is concerned. In the big, wide world beyond my door, stay-at-home-moms apparently aren't getting a lot of respect or accolades for what they do. It would appear they are rather looked down on, I guess, by some people. I've never really encountered this attitude, in this area, mostly because there are a LOT of SAHMs...we call them ranchwives. With kids. Everyone stays home. Where are we going to go?!

I decided I can maybe clear up some myths or common misconceptions about SAHMs. (Or really muddy the water. It's such a touchy subject!)

SAHM Myths:

1. SAHM doesn't stand for Sits Around Home Munching....in fact, we usually don't get a whole lot of food until the kids are napping. Then we eat the cold stuff on our plate from when everyone else had lunch.

2. I may be way off base, here, but most of the SAHMs I know don't watch Oprah or any soap operas at all. Mostly, if there's something on the t.v., it's got a furry mascot singing an alphabet song. If I get to see the evening news two times in one week, it's a big deal!

3. SAHMs don't wear pajamas until noon. 10:00 a.m. is our cut off time. That's when UPS, Schwans, mail, etc. deliveries occur and we're trying not to perpetuate the stereotype. The exception is when everyone in the house is sick (SAHM included) and every respectable outfit we own is covered in yucky, unidentifiable spots.

4. Not all SAHMs are born housekeepers or great cooks. Some are, (Traci) and they are the envy of many. The rest of us just try to keep it sanitary and stock Hamburger Helper and Duncan Hines mixes in case of surprise dinner guests. One of the funniest comments I heard, from a SAHM offering to take care of another friend's children, was "They have had their tetanus shots, right?"

5. Most SAHMs feel incredibly guilty buying things. ANYTHING! We don't endorse a check to put in the bank, so we can't justify spending $10 on a Rubbermaid tote on sale, to store toys in or nail polish, or a breve, or new underwear. (And I'm not talking Victoria's Secret $48 panties, here! I'm standing in Walmart, for pete's sake, trying to decide if $5.99 is too much to pay for a package of 10 generic cotton undergarments.) (I lost a few readers, there, I know....)

6. Sometimes, as a SAHM, I worry that my brain is starting to atrophy and that I'm out of touch with the rest of the world. As a result, I work very hard to read intelligent books, try to stretch myself by trying new things (like Hawaiian Meatloaf...perhaps a bit TOO new), getting together with other positive people every chance I get. My bookclub keeps me saner. My husband, bless his heart, keeps me sane-ish. My dog doesn't care, and that's a comfort.

All in all, it's a good life. It's not glamorous, by any means, but I have job security, for another 16-18 years. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks, for me. I can't imagine missing all the moments that I've been a part of, staying here in my trailer with my kids. I've held them longer, eaten more cookies after naps, rescued more kittens, sang dumber songs, found more ways to entertain during the winter than I thought was possible, unplanted more tomatos/petunias/beans than I would've, cried more, laughed more, made more mud castles than I ever would've if I had chosen another path.

I know not everyone has the luxury of this choice, and I'm so, so grateful that we live on a ranch where we are all able to work together, all generations. I lost a lot of perspective, the last couple of weeks, and after reading that book, I've regained a little enthusiasm for my job. So, if I've seemed a bit sour and ungrateful, I apologize, really. It's a pretty good gig.

Strange Summer Salads, Part I

In the spirit of spring, and because I like making strange (to other people) salads, I thought I'd post a salad recipe occasionally. I won't post a salad recipe that I haven't tried....we've found, through bookclub, that's just a disaster. Always try it before you share it.

This is one of my FAVORITE salads, and it's really not all that strange. But I'm making it today, and it seemed like a good one to start with. (Lure you in, then pull the switcheroo...)

Spinach Salad with Strawberries

(Lisa Waterman, this one's for you! You don't even have to disguise the spinach. Just dress it up.)

In a large salad bowl, toss about 5 cups of fresh spinach (or 1 boughten bag) with 1 pint of sliced strawberries.

Dressing:

1/2 c. sugar (yes, 1/2 cup)

2 T. sesame seeds

1 T. poppy seeds

1 1/2 tsp onion, minced

1/4 tsp. worcestershire sauce

1/4 tsp. paprika

1/2 c. salad oil (such as canola)

1/4 c. vinegar

Put all dressing ingredients in a blender and mix well.

Toss with the spinach and strawberries.

Optional topping, after dressing the salad, are bits of bacon and sliced,toasted almonds. It really is gilding the lily, but if you REALLY want to impress, that's the way to do it.

Bon Appetite!