A cape for Mother

As a little girl I would sit and sew.  I would cut and sew by hand clothes for my dolls.  My mother, my Grandmother and my great grandmother all sewed.  I remember them making baby clothes for my brother before he was born.  They would make pretty little dresses for me as well.  Some that I remember best were the ones that my great Aunt Warren smocked.

When I was old enough I learned to use the sewing machine and made clothes for myself and even some for my mother.  Christmas I would find scraps and put together aprons without patterns.  I made some clothes for my boys when they were very young.

Recently my sewing machine has set unused.  I had used it only for repairs.

My mother who is now 93 is not as nimble as she once was. Her range of motion has become limited from lack of use or maybe atrophy.  Helping her into coats for the winter has become more and more difficult.  My daughter  in  law, Melissa and I decided that a cape would do the trick.  I had a wool one that was too heavy for her and another that was not warm enough, so we put our heads together to figure out what we could do.

Drawing from my past experience of fabricating doll clothes and aprons without a pattern, we came up with a plan.  We purchased two throws one a flat weave and the other a fuzzy white throw.  I ended up sewing these together.  After doing so I realized it would have been smarter to sew the neck opening first,  then turn it and after that sew the two together.  But I did it backwards, so I had to figure out what to do with the neck opening.  I started to bind it with the smoother fabric but this did not work out as nice as I would have liked.  I cut out additional fabric, sewing it together with my machine.  Then reversing it to make a neat finish.  I pinned this getting out my needle and thread, I whipped around the edge of the new lining making it look finished.  As I was doing this I thought about little Leigh years ago making up clothes for her dolls as the grown Leigh was making up a good warm wrap for her Mother.  Little Leigh would have thought that was nice.  Now to take the warm Shawl to Mother and try it out.  It is Blue with white fuzzy interior and trim.  Mother's favorite color and I must say not bad looking.  With her beautiful blue eyes she looked beautiful.  You could see her lovely spirit shining though.

Scoots the Cat

Lewis and I rescued a tiny kitten teetering near the edge of a swimming pool where another tiny kitten had just drown.  He threw a towel over this baby and brought him inside.  There was no doubt this tiny bundle of fur was going home with us.  That was over thirteen years ago.

We lived off the Chesapeake Bay and I thought that schooner would be a fine name for him.  However, this did not stick.  While training him to stay off of tables and kitchen cabinets I often said scoot...so in time Scoots became his name.  Scoots' mother was a feral cat, who haunted one son's back deck realizing that they left dry foot out for their cat.  She was a beautiful cat, but so weary of people.

Scoots was an inside, outside cat, who loved playing tiger in the grass in my flower garden. One time he disappeared for over a day only to be discovered on top of a neighbors porch roof across the street from our house.

When we got Scoots we had two dogs, a beautiful pale golden retriever named Samantha and a handsome Shetland sheep dog named Sheppie.  Scoots grew up accepting these dogs as family.  One night I caught Scoots rubbing up against Samantha purring.  Shep on the other hand felt it was his duty to keep Scoots out of my bedroom at night.  That presented a challenge for Scoots, and he would wait and watch for a chance to slip past Shep and either curl up on the bottom of my bed at night, or find what he considered as a prime seat in my power chair after I had gotten into bed.  He always seemed to come in at night usually to spend the entire night and go out in the morning with the dogs to do his business.

When I moved from Saluda VA to Kilmarnock across the river he adapted well. My yard was fenced in by a six foot privacy fence.  This I thought would keep him in the yard.  I was so wrong.  It was not long before he had figured out that he could leap up an get over the fence.  He even took to walking the top board around the fence until he found just the spot to climb over.

When my mother came to live with me, we brought over her beautiful long haired black cat Jinks or as he became know as "Little Kitty," nothing as further than the truth as he was a great big cat.  We brought him in and went on a trip leaving plenty of dry food and water and having my daughter in law, Melissa stop by to make sure that they had enough food, etc.  When we returned from our trip they were fast friends, and there was no sign of a struggle.  They had come to terms somehow.

Recently I had noticed that Scoots had gotten thinner.  He also was old especially for an indoor/ outdoor cat. As much as we loved him he was not a cat that could be picked up and carried to the vets.  So I watched him and I worried about him.  He became more and more lovey and even let us scratch his head.

He began to want to be let out during the night, and recently he was in and out several times during the night.  yesterday he napped on my bed along with our current pups Dachshunds, Tinker, Oscar and Buddy, almost cuddling up with them.  I thought that a little unusual.  Last night he vomited and when Lewis let him out he felt that that was the last time that he would see him.  I worried about him as well.  There was no knocking on my window or meowing to come in last night with was no cat wanting in this morning.  Lewis went looking for him and there was no cat to be found.  This evening if he does not come to meet my car in the driveway, as has become his habit, I will know that Scoots is no longer with us.  He has been a great cat, who has enjoyed being a cat in every sense.  Scoots did come home that evening, but a few months later Scoots showed up after being missing in the morning with a badly mangled leg.  I called my daughter in law, Melissa and we called the vet who came in after hours.  It was obvious that he was badly mangled and had been that way for a while.  It broke my heart but I did what was necessary so he would not suffer and let him go.  It is not the easiest thing to let go of an animal that you have raised and loved.  But if you truly love that animal you will let go when it is best for the animal.  Unfortunately over the years I have had to make that terrible decision as to what is best for the animal and not holding on to your old friend for selfish reasons.  In love we let them go.

It takes time

I remember my grandmother, who I called Nana, saying it takes time.  It takes time to accomplish all manors of things, and it takes time to get over things as well.

I first realized how long it takes to get over things, while I was going through my divorce.  I got my divorce because I felt like it would be better for my children.  It was like having a death in the family maybe even worse.  I still loved my husband.  I  felt like I just could not manage the situation any longer. Lack of communication was more than likely a very big problem.  Anyway after the divorce it took months if not a whole year of shedding layers of influence, until I found myself, and became who I really was.

Now under completely different circumstances I am experiencing this once more.  I had been taking care of my Mother after my Father's death for almost 10 years.  First staying with her for a while directly after his death trying to pull her out of her depression.  It was during this period that I realized the she had some memory problems.  We talked to other people and some said that this happens sometime when you are grieving.  Years before I had noticed some irregular memories so I was aware that she might have a bigger problem.  Lewis had moved in to help care for my Dad after his surgery for thyroid cancer.  He found Mother was not cooking well.  He felt that they needed help.

We had planned to sell their home but wanted to wait a while, but a relator friend brought us a offer we could not turn down.  I had just settled into a town house in Kilmarnock and we needed to find a place for Mother and Lewis to live.  We bought a home in Irvington, Virginia  Lewis lived there with Mother watching out for her.  I  stayed concerned.

After she broke her knee about 5 years ago she came to live with me.  It became apparent that she needed constant care due to some sort of dementia.  My life changed quickly.  For a while I was able to have fun with Mother and we did a lot of things together.

For the past year 2013 til late February 2014, Mother needed more and more constant care.  We found a respite care at an assisted living  community near by my home.  I have been relieved of the constant care that I was giving her.  Now I am beginning to feel somewhat like my old self.  I had not realized how very tired and drained I felt.  I just wish that I could handle taking her out for a ride or to lunch by myself.  I can not for the very reason that I needed the assisted living.  It is impossible to push her in a wheelchair from my power chair and to help her stand when I am seated.

I am waiting for all the layers of watching, caring, and waiting upon her to fall away and for the seed of me to be revealed.  Months later and I still can not get back to settling down to paint once more.  It takes time.

Siblings

Sometimes I wonder how children brought up by the same parents can be so different from each other.  Everyone sees life from their own perspective.  No two people will experience things in the same way.  The sun set seen from different locations appears different to each viewer.  Maybe this explains why children of the same parents react differently to life.  Of course we are all born with distinct personalities.

I wonder about these things.  I was special as a child because of having had polio; however, I was treated like any other child by my parents.  As far as I knew there was never any special treatment other than being sent to a private school as a teen, because changing classes in a multi level  junior high school and high school might have been too much for me.  That is the only special attention that I remember getting.  I was not allowed to go away to College for fear of me falling in icy or snowy weather.  I was content to go to the local college.

Some how my brother younger by 3 1/2 years felt as though I had gotten special treatment.  I am sorry that he felt this way.  I never saw this.  I learned to be considerate of my parents not wanting to put a strain on their fiances.  I never remember demanding anything from them.  I was always happy with my life.

Every person is responsible for their own happiness.  Life is not easy for anyone.  Whatever cards that you are dealt in life are yours to keep.  I  have had to deal with being lame from polio ever since I was four years old.  Yes, there were times when I had wished that it had not been that way, especially as a teenager.  I would have loved to have been able to dance and to run.  I learned that it is better to make the best of what you can do rather than bemoan what you can not.  I also learned that no one likes a complainer.  So it is always best to enjoy life and make the most of what you have.

Art and Life

I started this blog in order to write about my art in relationship with my life.  Art has always been essential to my very being.  It is a very important part of who I am.  I have lost that these last few years.  While doing care giving for my Mother my mind was so busy doing those things in life that need to be done, that I did not have the time nor the mental clarity to paint.  These are some of my paintings.  I hope this inspires me to paint more.  I am slowly beginning to have the time to paint once more.

Plums in a bowl

Southwest painting

The Grand Canyon

My son Lewis and his cousin Davidson walking toward the woods

These are terrible photos of my paintings.....I am a painter not a photographer.....

Introspectives

Every now and then something comes up and just slaps you in the face.  My birthday is on Sunday.  The slap in the face is that I am turning 70.  I remember turning 30, and saying to myself oh my gosh I am 30.  Well now the harsh reality of life is that I am now 70.  No longer a spring chicken or even middle age, I am now old.  The surprising thing is that outside of a few aches and pains, I do not feel old.  Inside I still am that girl that decided to walk home from school and the young mother, and the aspiring artist full of ideas.

What I understand now is that my grandmother was still a young person inside.  How does this happen.  We go to bed at night and wake up each new morning, day after day.  Time waits for no one, but our spirits if not beaten down survives and remains the same.  I hope that I will always have a zest for life.  I hope that I will always be able to wonder at God's creation.  Life is about loving and taking the time to appreciate the small things.

 My grandmother use to say that youth was wasted on the young.  It is not until you've gotten older, that you have a better idea of what life is really about.  From my vantage point of my 70 years, I have the advantage of hind sight, as well as views to the future.  It is much easier to put life into perspective.  I am able to still be that little girl in my mind, the young woman in love for the first time, the hurried mother of three wonderful boys.  I can vividly relive my life of experiences.  Close my eyes and mentally walk through my grandparents home.  Memory is such a wonderful thing letting us relive the good times, and remember all the people who were so important in your life.  The interesting thing is that mentally you are that young person inside, only the body ages if you are lucky your mind allows you to be that same person that you always were.

Thoughts about the 1950's

Growing up in the 1950's life was so different than today.  I was blessed to grow up in my early years in my grandparents home with my parents and even my great grandmother.  My uncle would come occasionally on weekends.  We lived on Graydon Avenue in Norfolk Virginia, and he worked in Richmond Virginia for the then Vepco Electric Company.

Every meal we would sit around the large oval dining table.  My grandfather would always said the grace before our meals. He sat at one end of the table and my grandmother sat on the opposite end.  In the summer months we would gather to eat on the large screened back porch for our meals.  There were awnings around the porch so even when it was raining we could still eat outdoors.  I have often wished since that I too had such a fine place to eat close to nature.

My grandmother cooked everything from scratch.  You could smell the wonderful things cooking.  The enticing aroma of onions sauteing or chicken frying. She made corn bread and spoon bread even hush puppies with both onions and bacon.  There was fried fresh fish, spots and croaker, caught locally.  In the fall my grandfather would go down to Back Bay and go duck hunting with his buddies.  My grandmother would cook the ducks, geese, or even quail for us to eat.  These were strange but wonderfully different. There were no picky children at our table.  You ate what was served.  My grandfather was a banker.  He helped farmers with loans.  I remember him bringing home vegetables and even a box of strawberries that farmers had given him in appreciation for his help.

We ate some things that you just don't find easily any more.  There was the soup that my grandmother made from an old hen and in the soup was an egg that had not yet been laid.  There was oyster stew that had little red crabs in it that had come along with the oysters. Another thing that I have not had for years was tripe fried like chicken.  One of my favorite things was smoked tongue.  She cooked pork ribs with sauerkraut, and then there was pigs feet fried.  She fried fresh corn, fried green tomatoes, even cabbage.
  
We would sit on the back porch and snap beans or shell peas.  We did this together talking as we worked.
When it was time to do the dishes, someone would wash another would dry, and a third would put the dishes away. The generations would line up to help.

We went crabbing at a cousins house on the Lynnhaven River.  The older ladies did not wear pants to crab and I vividly remember my grandmother walking in the river with her skirt rolled up and tucked into her panties.  She had mud from the river all over her legs.  My younger brother about 3 at the time put his hands on his knees and said,"Look at my Nana."  Later, I was horrified when a bucket of crabs were dumped into a pot of boiling water, and I heard then scratching to get out.   This did not keep me from crabbing; however, I devised away to lull them by soaking them in warm water first.  Crab cakes were made with an egg and salt, pepper and only a tiny bit of flour to hold them together.

A treat that went back generations was both Smithfield smoked country ham and smoked sausages.  My great grandfather after moving to New York City had my grandfather mail these to him, one time he decided to take some back home with them and he packed the sausage in my great grandmother's suitcase without telling her.  When they arrived back home in New York, she was dismayed to find that the sausage had gotten grease all over her clothes.

Caring for my Mother

The task that I have taken on has become more and more difficult and I pray that I will be able to handle all that comes my way.  I have taken on the job of care taker for my mother.  As I have written before she suffers from a form of dementia.  With very little medication we have been able to work out problems with her personality and have eased her aggressive behavior back to her sweet self.  I am thankful for this.

Now I am facing the daunting task of working with her growing physical weakness.  If I had no limitations of my own this would be easier for me to handle. I sit in a power wheel chair as I suffer with post polio syndrome.  I am unable to stand any more and with my diagnosis I found out that my arms were involved as well as both legs.  To retain what use I have I should be careful not to over use these limbs.  Mother is not always able to get up from her chair to walk to the bathroom  So I hold out my hand and pull in order to help her up onto her feet.  In the morning and again at night I basically dress and undress her.  I worry about how long I can continue to do this.  As it is I refuse to give up.  Lewis, my youngest son stays with us and helps me manage mom.  Melissa my son Chris' wife comes two days a week and helps mother bathe and washes her hair.  She also takes mother out to lunch or shopping.  I find that this is something that I can no longer manage without help. I worry about not being able to take care of her. 

I finally had to realize that I am not a superwoman and have had to make arrangements for my mother to go into an assisted living arrangement.  This is just a block away from my home and on nice days I will be able to use my power chair to visit her.

We have situated her in a private room with a lot of her own furniture.  Paintings by both my brother and myself as well as a painting that she did.  There are pictures of her parents and pencil sketches of my brother and myself as children.  In short we have done as much as possible to make her room look like home.

Needless to say she is not happy.  She does not realize that there are things that she can not do.  She does not realize that I have difficulty in helping her.  She still in her own mind thinks that she is able to do everything that she was always able to do.  Because of this I can not reason with her.

We have physical therapy people working with her trying to get back some of the strength that she has lost.  I am hopeful that she will become happy in her world there.  We are planning on taking her on outings and eventually let her visit for dinners and family times.  I am feeling guilty, but need to remember that I need to take care of myself too.