Amber and the quilt

It's a very poor quality picture, and I couldn't seem to do much with it, but this shows a 3 year-old Amber doing her best to make her bed with the quilt. This would have been in September or October, 1984. Looking at it causes me to remember what a joy she was, and how she always wanted to do things by herself! I thought at that time, that I loved her so much, I could never love her more. I was wrong.

Grandma Squares Blanket

Sometime in the mid-seventies, my grandma made my sister and me each a quilt. Polyester knits were the rage then, you may remember. Everything from ties to t-shirts were being made from colorful polyester knits. So my mother gave my grandma some items of clothing that were outgrown to use in the quilts. I would look at it and say, "Oh, that was that tank top Mom wore when she was pregnant with Anne. And that's Kathy's skirt and my dress..." It was backed with a white sheet that had pink flowers on it. I liked it well enough. I took it to college with me and used it on my bunk bed along with the afghan my grandma had made for me for my high school graduation. They were a tie to home and security.

Later, when I had a child, I let her use it on her bed and she took it with her to college eventually. Now, my 3 year old grandson uses it on his bed. He drags it around the house with him sometimes, using it for a tent or to snuggle on the sofa. My daughter informed me one day, that the "Grandma Squares Blanket," as my grandson called it, was falling apart. She wanted to know if I thought maybe it could be fixed. Sure enough, that very fabric that was my mom's tank top was in shreds, and some of the other squares weren't looking so good either.

I happen to know a woman who is very talented at making quilts, among other things. So one day I asked her if she thought we would need to get someone who knew about quilts to fix it, or if any seamstress could. That's all it took, she is in the process of doing the job now! She and some of her friends work on such things in the meeting room of the library where I work every Wednesday afternoon and today, it was my quilt she was working on. She had it all taken apart. It seems that more needed to be repaired than I knew. Seeing the quilt, or rather, the squares part of it, in pieces laid out on the table made me catch my breath. It was rather like my life on that table, ripped apart at the seams and out there for everyone to see. I couldn't stand to see it that way. I wanted it back together. What would my grandma think? But the woman proudly showed me how she'd gotten all the "tank top" pieces replaced. She did a wonderful job and no one would know those pieces of fabric hadn't been there in the beginning. Except me, and my daughter. And...my grandson?

Turns out the backing should be replaced too. After all, why go to all this work and then leave fabric on the back that is at least 35 years old? So I think my grandson is going to notice. I hope it doesn't bother him though. I hope the quilt lasts another 35 years and gives him a sense of security too. Then maybe, one day, his son or daughter can drag it around the house.

Thanks Grandma. I still think of you when I see it.

My daughter likes to be like her mom. She says, "I got my reading smarts from Mom." This is because she is ten years old. In a few short years she will be a teenager, and will start the ritual of separation. Then she will not want to be anything like me. This is as it should be. A girl has to become independent of her mother to grow up. This is sometimes difficult for moms, as t-shirts and birthday cards abound using the image of a woman screaming something like, "Aaack! I've become my mother!" Women joke about how they live in fear of becoming their mothers, and often they aren't really joking! As part of that separation process we think the most terrible thing in the world would be to be like our mothers, as if then we wouldn't be unique individuals.


My sisters and I have joked in this way for years. If you make a phone call early in the morning, you've become Mom. If you leave your purse or coat behind, you've become Mom. We've teased how much one of the others looked like Mom or did something like Mom whenever possible. But as we get older, we find ourselves doing more and more things like Mom and admitting it. My sisters and I know now, that sometimes one has to make that phone call early before getting on with a busy day. We realize that when our minds are filled with so much to do we sometimes get absent-minded and leave something behind like a purse or coat. We wonder how our mother managed to do all that she did while managing a household with six children.

More importantly, we can now see and appreciate who our mother is as a person. Why wouldn't we want to be bold, courageous and willing to stand up for ourselves and for what we believe in? Why wouldn't we want to be loving, kind, compassionate and caring towards other people? Why wouldn't we want to be intelligent and have the ability to do a variety of things and juggle a variety of commitments? Just what is so wrong about becoming our mother? After all, as daughters through time "become" their mothers in different ways, they are carrying on traditions and traits through generations. All mothers can live on through eternity, through their daughters.

For my sisters and me there is another component as well. As we see our mother's traits and yes, even eccentricities, in each other it gives us a sense of connectedness. We are each of us like Mom in our own way, so we know that as long as we have each other, we will have a little bit of her as well.

So, today, I will proudly say, "I've become my mother!"

Me, Blogging?

Well, my husband said I should start a blog. I guess he thinks I have a lot to say and maybe I should write it all down so he wouldn't be the only one that would have to hear it! Anyone who knows me well, knows I have a lot of opinions and I'm not afraid to use them.

I've always enjoyed writing, though, and I never think anything I write is good enough for anyone else to read. He seems to disagree, so for my husband, I start this blog. We'll see how it goes.