Isn't She Lovely? Isn't She Wonderful?

Here is my new little niece. We're gonna call her Cluby for now. She's 34 uterine weeks old. Here's a 3D image of her.

Isn't she Lovely? Isn't she Wonderful?

She's Something Else

A couple of years ago, I wrote this about my Mom. Most of you know her very well and I think you'll agree that this pretty much sums it up. I want to put this on my blog because I think its pretty awesome if I do say so myself and because I think she needs to hear it again. So here goes.

She moves with slow simple grace and dignity
as if she carries the history
of those past
on her shoulders.

She makes everything so much sweeter
as if your mouth will explode
with all the love
she poured in.

She grows the most beautiful gardens
as if God knows
she will take care
of the plants and the Earth.

She creates the softest places
as if she's a mother bird
creating a safe nest
for each of her eggs.

She loves so dear
as if she sees each day
as a gift
to be cherished.

She gives us everything
as if she knows
we would be
nothing without her.

She believes in you
as if she's caught a glimpse
of your purpose
in this world.

She heals your spirit
as if she knows
sometimes all you need
is your Mom.

Somebody who had never met her asked me to tell them about my Mom. I started thinking about it and after a couple of days, this just poured right on out.

She really is something else.

Eat Up

There's a spot in North Carolina that when I was child was heaven. When I was teenager, was hell. And now that I have my own children, is heaven again. It's called Wagram. This is the place where my Mom grew up. You don't really know what the people there are saying either because their country accent is so thick or because they are hispanic. But should you visit you would know this; it is a place where people work hard and a place that holds centuries worth of stories in its barns. A place that has raised many children and watched them die all in the same old big house. A place where still to this day, you may see people from the AME Church being baptized in the swimmin' hole. A place that I hope my children take their children long after I'm gone.

Most of Mom's family still lives there. They make their livings farming and cultivating an impressive plant nursery. During this time of year, an extra special thing takes place. And that is strawberry picking. There are rows and rows of manicured beds with the sweetest, most gigantic red strawberries you've ever seen. When we go, we eat and pick all we can at the same time. Our feet turn black from the sandy soil and our sweat make little racetrack marks down our faces. It is glorious.

There is an old recipe that my Grandma F. has passed down. A little something to do with all your strawberries this season. It is called Punch Bowl Cake and here it is:

1 Angel Food Cake torn apart
1 qt of Sliced Strawberries
1 large Cool Whip
16oz Sour Cream
1c Powdered Sugar
1 Small Can Evaporated Milk
1 Package of Strawberry Glaze

Mix milk, sour cream, cool whip and sugar together. Fold mixture into torn cake. Mix strawberry slices into glaze and place on top of cake. Refrigerate for 1 hour.

Eat Up!

Awwwwww Yeaaaaaa

I love my birthday. I love it just as much as I did when I was little. It smells like Strawberry Shortcake's hair. It looks like a butter yellow dress twirling around and it sounds like a pool party in one of those little plastic pools in your backyard. I have three birthday traditions or rituals that I carry out every year.

1. I listen to this mix of almost every single one of my favorite Panic songs that my brother made me about 8 years ago. It's a cassette tape if that tells you anything. The first song on the tape is one from Captain Zoom singing my birthday song. Please folks, get this song made for your kids. It makes me happy.

2. The second one is one that I need to weed out and it's the newest one to be inducted. But it's gotta go. I like to run across the bar at a bar as fast as I can without knocking anyone's drink over. I started this one on my 31st birthday and its fun but I think only to me.

3. This one is my favorite and I've done this one every year (without missing) since I moved to Charleston in 1994. I go to the beach at sometime during the day. I stick my feet in the water and I look for a shell that I'm pretty sure was placed on the beach just for me on my birthday. One year I found over 30 olive shells, another a conch shell. This year, Daddy Rucci found it for me. It was the thinnnest, clearest clam shell I've ever seen.

Speaking of this year, I took the celebration to a whole new level. I decided to use all my birthday money (Thank you Mom & Bob, Mom & Dad and Grandpa S.) and take Daddy Rucci with me to The Sanctuary at Kiawah Island. It was lovely ya'll. Not only is the hotel absolutely beautiful but they really work for you out there. They have the squishiest beach chairs with soft towel covers and their pools are heated or cooled to just the right temperature. They left a bottle of champagne in the room for us and they'll pretty much go out of their way to take care of anything you could possible want or need. We spent our whole day drinking at the pool looking out over the Atlantic Ocean and watching the dolphins and pelicans feed on schools of fish. It was perfect. Everyone should go.

So the next time that early soft summer breeze blows across your face, think of me and know that I'm doing what I always do in May. Thanking God for another year of health and family and friends, sticking my feet in the Ocean and saying it's my birthday.

Awwwwww Yeaaaaaaa

Boogers can be Friends

Lil' Rucci has imaginary friends. Every now and then, I catch her talking to them in her room, in the car and sometimes out in parking lots. I'm not sure what or who they are but she knows. This is all fine and well with me. I don't mind. I am so happy she is creative and has an imagination. However... I heard her in the kitchen yesterday saying "You stay here. I be right back." I thought she was talking to one of her friends again. But when I looked, I realized she was wiping her boogers on my dish towels and talking to them, treating them like little babies. This too is all fine and well with me because at least she didn't eat them but how do I explain that she should squelch her urge to talk to them? Oh well. I guess its good that she's friendly.

Boogers can be friends.

I need a drink and it's only 8:30

So here it is. It's time to register Big Rucci for school next year. First grade folks. Wait! I'm not ready! But he is. His teacher says he can do it. She says that he is one of the best in her class. He reads. He adds. He subtracts. He counts and writes to 100. But wait! I'm not ready! Is it really time? How did he grow up so fast?

Gone are the days when I cut his food and wiped his hiney. Now I'm gonna be buying school supplies and scheduling spend the night parties. The next thing I know, he'll ask for a cell phone and then a car. Then he'll leave me, go to college, seduce a bunch of women (like his father did - had to get that in there), get married, have children of his own, think I'm crazy, put me in a home and go on with his life and the whole time I'll be saying, "Wait! I'm not Ready!"

I need a drink and it's only 8:30.

This one's for my Kids

Today I watched the Big One dressed as Batman, leap from chair to bean bag to bean bag to rocking horse because he said they were buildings he was jumping on. You were wearing the mask and the cape and you never missed one landing. You flew that 48" frame from one piece of furniture to the next piece of furniture without ever kicking me or your sister in the face. Your mind was racing against all the bad guys you were fighting. All I could do was watch you. I couldn't tell you to stop jumping on the furniture. I didn't want you to. You think. You consider.

While the Big One did this, the Lil' One fed her baby. The one you call Susan. Susan is ugly. No doubt about it. But you love her still. I listened to you and your scrambled conversations with Susan. You made her eat three more bites. You blew each one to make sure it wasn't too hot. You gave her a bath, dried her hair and layed her in her bed. All the while kissing her over and over again. You were running as fast as you could to take care of every need Susan had today. You are going to be a great Mama someday. You nurture. You love.

I watched you intently because sometimes its hard to believe that out of me, came you. Your perfect little body and your perfect little face and your perfect little mind. How did you end up so wonderful? How did every piece of you come together so wonderfully fantastic? I study your ribcage and I see an incredible work of art that protects the sweetest little heart. I stroke your temple with the softest hair and I'm so thankful for your strong mind. I trace your tiny veins and the wonderful web they weave throughout your legs and tummy and I'm amazed that my blood runs through you.

I am so thankful that you are mine. If you weren't, I would long for you. You give me purpose and all I feel at the end of today is gratitude. Thank you for coming to my life.

This one's for my Kids.