Christmas Ornaments

Decorating my Christmas tree is like walking down memory lane. For as long as I can remember, Mom has bought each of us an ornament each year. It's always something that matches either our personality or our interests. As I pull each ornament out of the storage tub, I remember when Mom gave it to me.

There is of course, my Baby's First Christmas ornament from 1976. There's the plaster angel I made in nursery school. As a teenager, I tried to reconnect to my youth by buying Cookie Monster and Animal (from the Muppets) ornaments. When I was a senior in high school, I was going through a cowboy phase. I wore cowboy boots every single day, and wore poets blouses and jeans. My ornaments from that time are a cowboy and a horse.

My ornament from 1996 is a teddy bear, wearing a dress that says 'daughter'. There's a Barbie Bride from 1998- the year I got married. I kept the ornament even though the husband is long gone. In 2000 when Erich joined the family, we started adding ornaments with penguins or computers to the tree. In 2002, the beagle ornaments started appearing.

I have always loved bears, and that is reflected in the ornaments. Bears are scattered around my tree. I have purple and gold butterflies that clip on the tree. We bought a set of them in Pigeon Forge and split them so we each had some. The moose from Watkins Glen, NY reminds me of the trip I took with my parents in 2004. After seeing bison on the move at the National Bison Range in Montana, I bought an ornament of a bison. When I hang it on the tree, I feel the same awe I felt as I watched the herd of bison move in front of us. Last Christmas, I had an ornament from Mom & Dad's trip to Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island- they went to Green Gables, home of Anne of Green Gables. Mom bought each of us an ornament from Green Gables.

For the past few years, my ornament has been a Hallmark ornament. Hallmark has done a series of Gone With The Wind ornaments, and I can proudly say I have every one. I don't put those ornaments on the tree, they are on display in my room year round.

One year Mom found an ornament with two little mice pouring Hershey's syrup over a dish of purple ice cream. Dad's favorite ice cream is black raspberry, and this ornament looked just like his nightly dish of ice cream. Of course she had to buy that!

Mom always puts a lot of thought into our ornaments. Now she has Sydney and Drew to buy for, and as their personalities develop and their interests change, their ornaments will change to reflect that. 30 years from now, they will think of their MeMe each time they put up their own Christmas trees.

It's not just the ornaments Mom has bought that bring back memories. I have several ornaments that my Aunt Madeline made. Aunt Madeline was Grandpa Primeau's older sister. She has been gone for many years now. Whenever there was a new bride in the family, her bridal shower gift was a box of handmade ornaments. Each ornament is very intricate, covered with beads and sequins. I don't know how she managed to make them, but I treasure each one.

In the past few years, another type of memory has made it's way onto my tree. I have several Cardinals on the tree, in memory of Grandpa Wager. And each place there is a cardinal, there is a Blue Jay nearby in memory of Grandma Wager. I feel that they are closer to me, and with me always.

I think my tree is beautiful. Sure, you won't find it in the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. But if you look at it, you will discover parts of my personality. Sweet, cuddly, quirky. It's all there. My tree is an expression of me, and each ornament represents a part of me. Even the solid color ball ornaments I bought as fill-ins. They are colorful yet classic. The people I love, the things I enjoy, the places I've been- all are represented on my tree to remind me year after year how blessed I am.

For Grandpa

I was looking through my folders of poems and stories I've written in search of a funny Thanksgiving story. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did find this. It is the eulogy I read at my Grandpa Wager's memorial service. I couldn't trust myself to do it from memory. (The sweater referenced is a bright yellow sweater that he always wore-until one day, as a teenager, he gave it to me. I still have it.) When I finished reading this, there was not a dry eye in the packed church.
*******

Golden. That is how I remember my Grandfather. Perhaps it has to do with this sweater, this bright yellow sweater that really doesn't go with anything, but was Grandpa's favorite. The sweater that appears in so many pictures, that holds so many memories in the soft knit. Or perhaps I think of my Grandfather as golden because I remember the sunshine streaming on him as he lovingly tended his orange trees. Maybe it's because the influence Grandpa had on me was brighter than the brightest of lights. Or perhaps it's because I have always believed my Grandfather was one of those rare people, one of those Angels who walk among us on earth, a shining example for the rest of us to live by. I don't know where he kept the wings hidden, or why I couldn't see his halo above his soft white hair. But I know they were there.

At first, I thought of writing a poem for Grandpa. But there were too many things I wanted to say, and I couldn't put them into a simple poem. As I was trying to write this, I found a poem that seemed very appropriate: 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' by Robert Frost.

"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."

I consider my Grandfather one of the greatest people to have ever lived. Of all the memories I have of him, I remember him most as a very gentle man. I don't remember ever hearing him raise his voice, or even speak in a harsh tone. My grandfather was a lamb, a gentle giant among men.

While Grandpa's gentle spirit has always amazed me, it was my Grandfather's intellect that I always respected the most. The world is full of intelligent people, and I have been fortunate enough to meet many. If someone were to ask me who the smartest person I'd ever met was, I would answer 'Grandpa Wager' without missing a beat. I remember spending hours talking to Grandpa, listening to the stories. I loved hearing the tales of his youth, comparing his Berlin to the Berlin I was growing up in. If Grandpa was talking about history, I could be found sitting at his side, listening intently. Sometimes I wished I were a sponge, so that I could absorb all the knowledge and wisdom my grandfather was passing on to me. I could never get enough of Grandpa's stories. He encouraged me to pursue things, to never be satisfied with not knowing the answer. Ignorance was not bliss; bliss was finding the answer, especially if we could explore and find the answers through our exploration. Because of Grandpa, I don't accept 'just because' as an answer. I probe, explore, and try to find reasons or answers for things that intrigue me.

Grandpa was an excellent teacher. He learned a lot from books, but he learned a lot from the world too. There are people in this world who are 'book smart', and there are those who are 'street smart'. Grandpa seemed to balance both. I remember the summers Laura and I spent in Florida, the lessons we had to do daily. Grandpa sat patiently with us, no matter how long it took us to get through the flashcards or vocabulary. The lessons didn't stop when we closed the books. They continued outside, to the orange trees, where Grandpa would reach up and pick an orange for each of his girls, explaining to us about the different types of oranges, or how to look for signs of disease in the trees. The world was his classroom. the lessons to be learned were not restricted to the binding of a book.

Grandpa was always one of our biggest supporters. From the time I was old enough to understand the word, he emphasized an education; and encouraged Laura and I to look at colleges. Grandpa always encouraged us to learn as much as we could, telling us an education is something that no one could take away from us. I never heard my grandfather say "You are wrong" or "You can't do it". Grandpa always told us to follow our dreams, believing the best way for us to learn was to do things for ourselves. He helped us realize it is okay to make a mistake, in fact, sometimes that's the best way to learn. Grandma told me recently that one of the proudest times of Grandpa's life was when both of his Granddaughters graduated from college. And because of Grandpa's influence, I know Laura and I will continue to learn; continue to find lessons in the world that surrounds us.

The first time I ever saw a rainbow, I was holding Grandpa's hand. It was a summer afternoon in Florida, after one of those quick rain showers. That afternoon, he explained what causes rainbows, and told us we could remember the order the colors appeared if we remembered 'Roy G. Biv'. Now, years later, every time I see a rainbow, I am that little girl again, standing next to Grandpa, looking up in wonder at the sky above me. I can still feel my hand in Grandpa's, can still hear his voice explaining it to me.

The rainbow was just one of nature's wonders that Grandpa helped us discover. Grandpa showed me that there is beauty all around us, we just have to open our eyes to it. Grandpa always enjoyed watching birds, identifying the different varieties. The song of the blue jays in winter and sighting the first robin in spring always made me think of Grandpa. In fact, the day before he passed away, I opened my window to find the most beautiful cardinal outside it. It was a brilliant red, deeper red than I've seen in a long time. It sat outside my window for the longest time, looking at me without saying a word. When the magnificent bird took flight, his wings played a beautiful melody in the air.

I remember how patiently Grandpa sat in his chair while Laura and I combed his hair, trying to put curlers in it like we had Grandma's. Or how Grandpa never batted an eye, but just smiled when we'd go out of our way to walk past him and rub the top of his soft hair. I remember waking up to have breakfast at Grandma's, and having glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice that Grandpa had just made. The first time I dunked a doughnut in my coffee, Mom looked at me and laughed, saying, "just like your Grandpa". And I remember the day, so many years ago, when I put Grandpa's sweater on the morning we were leaving to come home. I would have taken it off if he had said something. Instead, Grandpa looked at me, smiled, and said "let her have it".

The past few days have taken me on a wonderful journey as I have recalled memory after memory of Grandpa. I wanted to find the best words, to write the most beautiful tribute to Grandpa. To tell everyone what an incredible man he was. As I was talking to a friend last week, he told me that my Grandfather was someone he would have liked to meet. This friend told me that even though he never had the opportunity to meet Grandpa, he would miss him as well. To me, that seemed to say how wonderful a man Grandpa was, that people who only knew him through those of us close to him would miss him.

While we grieve the loss of such an incredible man, we should know that he is not gone. God has taken his body and ended the suffering, but his soul, his spirit live on in each of us gathered here today. During my grief, more than one person reminded me that Grandpa's still with me. If I close my eyes, I can still see him. His voice will be one I hear when I need a little help, and sometimes when I don't realize I need the help. I know that Grandpa is now our guardian angel, looking down on each of us and watching over us. I also know that Heaven is a brighter place now. That Grandpa's dry sense of humor is putting a smile on God's face. I know that Grandpa is at peace now, he has gone ahead to prepare the way for the rest of us.

Grandpa always believed that life was for the living. I remember he once said something about burying him before he 'started to stink'. He wouldn't want us to cry and mourn for him. I could hear Grandpa telling me "life goes on, honey". And I can still hear him saying that. I had to laugh when I realized Grandpa left this earth on February 29. To me, that seemed the most appropriate day. It's a day that only exists once every four years. And in that way, I believe Grandpa was making sure that we would carry on our lives. That we would remember the good times, and be glad that he is in a better place.

Black Friday

The TV commercials are yelling Black Friday ads. The stores are competing with each other to get the early birds. Target opens at 4am. Kohls at 3am. Walmart at midnight, but the good buys on electronics starts at 5am. A local outlet mall is opening at midnight. The first couple hundred people through the door wearing pajamas get an extra bonus. It's insane.

Black Friday seems to get worse every year. At first I thought I was just getting old and cranky, and then I realized when I worked at JCPenney, we opened at 7am. It was the earliest all year that we opened. I left JCPenney in 2002. So only 8 years ago, things were not as crazy. Sure, when I arrived a little before 6am to open (the jewelry department goes in an hour earlier than other departments), I had to fight my way through the line of people who had been standing outside for hours. I had to show my name badge so they didn't think I was cutting in line. One year we offered a free 'gift with purchase'. It was a Disney snow globe. Each store had a certain quantity, and when they were gone, that was it. The ad made the snow globes look like they had a 10" diameter. In reality, they were only about 2" each. Yet people still fought over them like they were gold nuggets.

I don't do Black Friday. I will look at the ads, which now thanks to all of the 'sneak peak' websites, I don't even have to get the paper. And I may see something that I really want. Then I consider the price and aggravation, and decide it isn't worth it. I did go out in 2006. Kohls had Cabbage Patch Kids 55% off. I had a new niece, and thought 'who's going to go to Kohls for Cabbage Patch Kids?' Answer: Everyone who wanted one. I was in line half an hour before the store opened, and at that point the line was still on the front of the store, it had not yet curved around the building. I went straight to the toy department, and there were no Cabbage Patch Kids to be found. Erich had dropped me off and gone to Staples, so I ended up doing some shopping. I found a nice sweatshirt for my brother in law in the Men's department, and had to walk to the back of the store to housewares to the end of the line. I spent the next hour winding my way back through the men's department to the registers. That's when I decided I had better things to do at 6am. Like sleep.

Maybe my aversion to Black Friday comes from my Mom. Mom shops year round for gifts. By Black Friday, she was usually done. We hardly ever went to the mall during the Christmas shopping season. Unless we were taking Grandma Primeau shopping. Grandma doesn't start her shopping until Black Friday. She would call Mom a few days before and ask if Mom would take her shopping. Even before she gave up driving, Grandma wouldn't drive many places. And Grandpa knew how she shops, so he wouldn't take her. We went to Berkshire Mall, about 25 minutes away from Mom's house. Since it's in Massachusetts, there is no sales tax on clothing, and anything else was only 4% (a real bargain compared to the 7% NY had at the time). Our shopping expedition would get bigger, until we could no longer fit in a car. Some of Dad's sisters or sister-in-laws would join us. We had a little caravan of station wagons and minivans. I remember we were never at the mall before 8. We usually planned to be there when they opened, but I still think that was 8am. So 20 years ago, Black Friday was more of a normal shopping day.

Christmas shopping with Grandma is an exercise in patience. Grandma has 8 kids, 15 grandchildren, and now 12 great-grandchildren, plus spouses. Her list is enormous. Until very recently, she bought gifts for everyone. I still don't know how she did it. The cost alone baffles me. The year I remember I was about 11. So it was just her children, their spouses, and the 15 grandchildren to buy for. The oldest grandchild was 16, the youngest a baby. Grandma wrote out her list, asking each person what they wanted. And then we set out to cross things off the list.

For some reason, when we got to the mall, no one would go with Grandma. So I went with her. We went to Hill's first, and she pulled out her list. Terri (my oldest cousin) wanted footie pajamas. She was 16, so that meant looking in the juniors or misses department. Hill's had pink or purple. Terri wasn't a pink or purple person. Grandma decided we would go down to Sears- the complete opposite end of the mall. I asked her who was next on the list, thinking we would get as many gifts as we could in one store before moving to the next store. That is not how Grandma shops. She cannot move onto the next person on the list until she has the first person crossed off. Off we went to Sears, and they didn't have what we needed. Then we stopped at JC Penney's. I don't remember what was wrong with the pajamas there, but we ended up back at Hills. Around 10am, Grandma had Terri done. I was dragging. Grandma looked at her list and said 'Now, Beth wants....' and we were off again. When we met up with the rest of the family in the food court for lunch, I dropped into a chair. I didn't think I would be able to get up again. I begged my sister to trade with me, and let me shop with Mom. I had criss-crossed the mall with Grandma more times than I could count. In four hours, she had two presents. Laura went with her that afternoon, and I spent a peaceful afternoon with Mom, carrying winter coats and bags.

Grandma's birthday is in November, and hers and Grandpa's anniversary is the 27th of November. Grandpa frequently gave her money to get herself something, so after she made a dent in her list, she started looking for something for herself. She would want everyone's opinion on the item, and then still might not buy it. When we arrived home at night, all of us were so worn out we couldn't think. Dad wondered why we were so tired, and Mom told him what it was like shopping with Grandma. Then Dad laughed and said, I know what she's like, why do you think I don't go. For the same reason Grandpa wouldn't go with her- because she tries your patience. I love my Grandmother, don't get me wrong. I just hate shopping with her.

Or perhaps I don't like Black Friday because I spent so many years in retail. The pushing, the shoving, the yelling. People buying crap they otherwise wouldn't buy, just because it's cheap. I know that's cynical, but there was always a special in the jewelry department that made you shake your head. Lower quality diamonds, or something very ugly. Corporate would put a really great price on it, and we'd sell out of it quickly. Even though I am not a morning person, I always volunteered to take the very early shifts. This way, I could leave the headache around 2pm and go home, rather than walk into the headache. Because the headache only gets worse as the day goes on.

I guess I could understand the desire to stand in line for hours in the early morning if we lived in Arizona or Hawaii, someplace with a moderate or tropical climate. I don't understand it for those of us who live in the Northeast or Midwest--where the chances are good you'll be standing in below freezing temperatures, wrapped up like Nanook of the North, and still freezing your tush off. But when you add the temperatures to the crowds, it really isn't worth it for me.

So this Friday while the 'smart shoppers' are teamed up, one at Kohls at 3am to get sweaters, one at Target at 4am to get Zhu Zhu pets, and another is in line for the 5am electronics at Walmart; I will be in bed. I will be snuggled in layers of warm blankets, surrounded by soft pillows. I will sleep until my body tells me to wake up. No alarms, as it's a day off from work. And I know I've got the best deal!

Chicken and Dumplings

We had chicken and dumplings tonight for dinner. It is one of my favorite meals, but I do not fix it often. It takes so long for the chicken to brown. You really have to stand there over the stove, turning the chicken every few minutes so it browns but doesn't stick. That's really not my favorite way to cook. I prefer to put something in a baking dish, pop it in the oven, and walk away.

It's a dish that Mom made a lot. I frequently marvel at her. Once we were both in school, Mom worked full-time outside the house. Most of that time she worked about 20 minutes away, but when we were in high school, her commute was about 45 minutes. Somehow Mom managed to work full time, keep up with the two of us, keep the house clean, and make wonderful meals every night. I am convinced she's Superwoman. I get home from working 8 hours, and am too tired to fix something like chicken and dumplings.

For my Grandma, chicken and dumplings was a special meal. Grandma always had chickens. Even though they lived in the village, they kept chickens. If you wanted chicken for dinner, you went out, caught one, killed it, plucked it, and cooked it. Mom has told us stories about the killing and plucking of chickens. Because of the preparation necessary to fix a chicken, it was usually reserved for Sunday dinners. Unless Grandma had done something without Grandpa's knowledge. Then she made chicken and dumplings, even if it was a Wednesday. Mom says Grandma made it whenever she had something to tell Grandpa. It was her way of softening the blow.

Grandma was always buying houses at auction. If a psychiatrist were to analyze her, they would probably say she had a deep seeded fear of not having a home. Grandma's family moved a lot when she was growing up. The house was mortgaged to pay for the farming, and a couple bad years of farming meant they lost the house. I do not think this was an uncommon occurrence in rural 1920's America.

When Mom was growing up, Grandma would hear of a house going up on auction, and decide to buy it. These were the days when the bank was a local bank, not just a branch of a multi-national corporation. The bank president was a member of the community, and knew his customers by name. Grandma would go to the bank, take a small loan that she could pay back with at most a couple of paychecks, and walk out with the money for the house. It was also the time that loans were issued on handshakes, not a mountain of paperwork. And houses could be bought at auction for just a couple hundred or maybe a thousand dollars. Grandma felt the houses were good investments, and she & Grandpa would resell the houses. They were ahead of their time, flipping houses before it became a trend.

Whenever Grandma bought one of her houses, she then had to tell Grandpa. Because she usually did this during the day, while he was at work. So she made chicken and dumplings. When Grandpa walked through the door and saw dinner, he asked Grandma what she had done. Mom said he never got upset, just told her they'd take a drive and look at their house. But he always knew she'd done something, because chicken and dumplings was her 'tell'.

While Grandma always had chickens, Grandpa always had roosters. From the time he was a young boy, he kept roosters. I do not have extensive knowledge of poultry, but I know roosters can be mean. Mom says one of the roosters Grandpa had was incredibly mean. Every time Grandma went into the hen house, the rooster attacked her. She told Grandpa, and warned him that the rooster was going to attack her one too many times and she'd kill it. It was Grandpa's prized rooster, so he really didn't believe her. One night Grandma served chicken and dumplings, and she hadn't bought a house. Grandpa told her it tasted even better than usual, and went out to feed his roosters. That's when he realized dinner had been his prize rooster. It attacked Grandma for the last time!

I chuckle each time I make chicken and dumplings. I'm not making it to break any news to Erich. Actually, he doesn't care for the dish as much as I do. To him, dumplings are supposed to be more of a noodle. The way we make the dumplings, they are made with Bisquick and milk, and are then dropped by the spoonful into the boiling broth. So they are more like an airy biscuit than a noodle. I make it because I like it. It is warm, comforting, and brings back happy memories.

Shopping

I like to shop. I don't think anyone reading my blog would be surprised by that statement. My mother likes to shop, and my Grandma Wager liked to shop. Shopping has been a favorite past time for generations in my family.

Shopping was different depending on who we shopped with. For instance, shopping with Grandma Wager was a marathon event with little regard to cost. Laura and I were the only two grandchildren on Mom's side of the family- whereas on Dad's side, there are 15 grandchildren. Mom's parents moved to Florida when I was four. We saw them only a couple of times a year. In 1987 or so, we started taking two weeks' vacation and going to Florida in February. This coincided with the Daytona 500. Dad had tickets to the race, and we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa because they were about 30 minutes from Daytona.

Grandma saw these two weeks as the chance to make up for the other 50 weeks that she did not see us. So we went shopping. We would go to Deland or Orange City, and hit strip mall after strip mall. Grandma was very fair when it came to shopping. If she spent $300 on me, she spent the same on Laura. We went to grand stores like Belk Lindsey or Dillards. They seemed grand at the time anyway. And very exotic- we did not have Dillards in NY. Belk Lindsey always had the prettiest dresses- I felt like I was in Heaven. Satiny skirts, ruffles, pleats. Dresses that were far too extravagent for the playground, but Grandma still bought them for me. I think Laura must have hated Belk because she hated to wear dresses. If Laura didn't find anything in Belk, we would move on to the next store. When the races were over, we would go to the big mall in Daytona. There we would find more outfits. I have a memory of standing at the checkout with Grandma, and she pulled out her wallet. The credit cards were in an accordian style holder, with a flick of her wrist, the collection of cards cascaded towards the floor. She asked what store we were in, found the appropriate card, and charged it. Time may have exaggerated this memory a little, but you get the idea. Grandpa hated to pay for anything with credit, but he never stopped Grandma. Maybe because he was usually home. We would go home, laden with bags from every store imaginable. And then the best part started- the fashion show. We went into Aunt Arlene's room and spread our purchases out on her bed. We tried on outfit after outfit, parading through the house to show my Dad and Grandpa. We even tried on the shoes to show them (because you cannot have all those outfits without appropriate shoes!). Dad and Grandpa would give us their opinions of the outfits. We could have given the models on the Milan runways a run for their money!

Grandma could shop until we dropped. And then some. We would shop all morning, have lunch, and then shop all afternoon. Laura and I would return to the house totally exhausted, and Grandma would then make a three course meal for dinner. Next to her cooking, I miss shopping with Grandma the most.

Shopping with my mom was a different experience. JCPenney was one of our favorite stores. I was so excited in college to get a job at the local JCPenney. Mom did all of our school shopping at JCPenney. They used to offer layaway, so it was a good way for her to buy things for us. Mom taught us it was fun to shop, but it was even more gratifying if you found a sale. You felt better going home with a car full of packages if you didn't spend a fortune on those items. When Mom & Dad bought a new car, one of the first ways we tested it was to take the car shopping. That way we knew how much could fit in the trunk. In 1988, Mom and Dad bought a Ford Taurus Wagon. It was our family's first station wagon. I remember Mom picked up the car during the week, and that weekend we went shopping. We went to the Berkshire Mall one day, and to Bennington, VT the second day. In Bennington, we bought new bikes for Laura and I. And hauled them home in our new wagon! When I bought my Rav4 in 2006, Mom and Dad came out for my birthday. I'd had the Rav for two weeks at that point. Mom and I went shopping. We piled bags into the Rav, and didn't even fill the back end. We took that as a sign we could keep shopping.

Because Mom and Dad live a distance from stores (the closest mall of any kind is about 20-30 minutes away), going shopping usually included getting lunch. It might have been a quick bite in the food court, or going to Wendy's for the massive salad bar (I wish they still had that-- the garlic bread was incredible). We came to associate shopping with eating out.

We now have a new generation that loves to shop. One of Sydney's first words was 'shopping'. My dad just shook his head and laughed. Sydney even likes going to the grocery store. On her second birthday, Dad and I had Sydney in the car and were running errands. We had to stop at the grocery store, so Dad drove in the back way, thinking she wouldn't know what we were doing. It was pouring rain, and his plan was to send me into the store to get what we needed, and he would sit with Sydney in the car. His plan didn't work, because as soon as he pulled into the driveway, Sydney started jumping up and down in her carseat, saying 'We're going shopping!' So we all had to go into the store, and she was in her element. Later we found out Mom goes in the back way to that store, so Sydney knew it led to the store.

She will tell you she 'needs' to go shopping. Sydney is our own Immelda. She has a lot of shoes. Mom took her shoe shopping earlier this year (or maybe it was last fall), and she came home with 9 new pairs of shoes! I couldn't imagine what a 3 year old needed with that many pairs of shoes. She loves clothes just as much as she loves shoes. And books. And toys. She really doesn't discriminate when she goes shopping. She walks into the clothing department (or the book store) and she wants this and that and this and oh-this for sure!

Sydney has also learned that when you go shopping, you eat out. She does not consider it a shopping trip unless you have eaten. When I was home in October, we all went for a nice Sunday afternoon dinner to a very nice Italian restaurant. We had very large meals- bread, salad, our entrees, and dessert. Most of us had leftovers that we were taking home. I had to go to Target after wards to pick up a couple of things I had forgotten to pack. Sydney went with Mom, Dad, & I. Mom & I went into different checkout lines, and as I was paying, I could see Sydney pointing to the snack bar and talking to Mom, who was laughing. When Dad & I joined Mom & Syd, we asked what was so funny. Sydney had said to Mom 'Do you want to get a bite to eat?' and pointed to the snack bar. Mom said 'No, honey, we just ate, remember?'. To which Sydney responded 'Yeah, but don't you want to get a little something for later?'

30 years ago, we had three generations of women shopping- Grandma, Mom, and Laura and I. After a decade or so of just the two generations, we now have a third generation again. It is a past time the women in our family continue to enjoy. The best shopping trips have my favorite girls, lunch, and a great sale!

Aunt Amy

Since my niece and nephew live 700 miles away, it feels like I switch into Aunt Amy mode when the wheels touch down in Albany. Yes, I am an Aunt 365 days a year, but I only have a few chances a year to *be* an Aunt. Time to play with the children, spend time with them, and have fun. This means getting down on the floor with Sydney to play or color. Color. Until Syd came along, I hadn't colored in years. Coloring with Sydney is not about creativity. It is about obeying Sydney. She tells you what to color, and gives you two or three of the 150 crayons she has to create your masterpiece. The whole time we are coloring, she is chattering away about different things. I enjoy spending the time with her, and happily color as I'm instructed. One night while we were coloring, she told me we could color again after dinner, if I could behave myself. I tried to keep a straight face and told her I would try. I must have been bad, because after dinner she moved on to something else.

Being an Aunt means sharing the bed. The first night I was there, Syd spent the night at Mom & Dad's. She decided to sleep with me again. Sleeping with Sydney is an exercise in survival. One minute she's snuggling against my chest, and the next she's kicking me. At one point I rolled over, and then I felt her head in my back. I didn't get much sleep that night, but I cherished being close to her. I love that she wants to have slumber parties with me. Imagine how much fun we'll have when she gets older! We may have to switch to sleeping bags though-the full size bed isn't big enough for both of us!

As I watch this little person, I am amazed. It is easy to forget that she is only 4. She doesn't really talk in baby talk like some children. Sure, she has the voice of a four year old, and doesn't always say things correctly. But she speaks very clearly, and can carry on conversations with adults. No, we're not talking about the economy or the election. But she'll talk for quite a while. Sometimes she says things that make you laugh so hard you cry. Other times she can be so serious. She is such a delight to be around, and I can't wait for Erich to meet her. I know he's going to adore her.

When I hold Drew, I think of watching him grow up. It seems that it was so long ago that Syd was little and had to be held. I look forward to watching Drew's personality develop, and I wonder what he will become. I look forward to playing with him, just as I do with Syd. I can't wait for the day that two little voices are yelling 'Aunt Amy!', and for the day when I will have two shadows.

Sydney frequently tells my mom that she 'loves Aunt Amy so much'. She talks about me when I am not there, and tells people how much she misses me. It pulls on my heartstrings to hear this. I am sad that I can't be there more, but so very touched that we have such a deep bond. I told Sydney it is her job to tell Drew about me, so that he too will love me and want to be with me. Her response to this was 'but you're MY Aunt Amy'. She is just starting to learn that a brother means having to share your toys, the attention, and the people you love.

Drew is so easy to watch. Babies make me nervous. Having to support their heads, knowing what they want when they cry... they are cute, but I'm not a baby person. I enjoy being an Aunt so much more now that Syd is old enough to play and interact with me.

On my last day in New York, I had to babysit Drew for a little bit in the afternoon. I fed him and changed him, and as he fell asleep, I put him into his little seat that he loves to sit in. I turned on the music, figuring he would go off to sleep, just as he had done every other time I'd watched him. But he wanted to be held. I picked him up and held him in my arms. I talked to him, and at one point both of us were just about asleep when the dogs barked to announce the arrival of the mailman. When Sydney came home, she ran into the house and climbed onto the couch next to me. She soon moved to the other couch because she can see the TV better from that one. She patted the cushion next to her, and asked me to sit with her. I gathered up Drew, and relocated to the other couch. Drew was asleep in my right arm, and Sydney curled up in my left arm. We sat there for over an hour. My mom came to pick me up, and laughed because Aunt Amy had her arms full. Sydney was eating snacks, and she kept feeding me. Drew had apparently reached a zen-state, and was stretched out on my lap with one arm stretched over his head, the other by his side. Sydney snuggled up against me and wouldn't let go. It felt nice. Not in a 'this makes me want to have children' way. But in a 'I LOVE being an Aunt' way. My heart swelled watching these two children. It was a perfect way to end the trip.

I have wonderful memories of Aunts, and some Aunts played a big role in my life. I like knowing that I can be an Aunt to Sydney and Drew. I can buy them jelly beans before lunch. I can buy them noisy toys that grate on your nerves. I can tell them stories of their mom. I want to be a fun Aunt, so that when they are grown, they will think of me and laugh. I don't want to be a stuffy Aunt. I never want them to dread spending time with me. There are times I've had to discipline Sydney, and I'm sure I will have to discipline both of them in the future. That's part of being an adult. I look forward to creating wonderful memories with both children. I love being an Aunt!