Category Archives: motherhood

A Blast from the Past

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My son at age four and half at our riverfront property in Washington State that my grandfather bought for a few dollars during the Great Depression.

I am facing a chore I’ve put off for years. I have stacks of photo albums with many of the same photos and duplicates from my high school years through raising kids — before digital photos became a thing. We had a photo developer a few blocks from our house in Palm Springs called Double Photo. Yes, you got two photos for the price of one for every roll of film you brought in. I’d walk to the store, pushing a double stroller with kids plus rolls of film treating them like treasure. Hence my abundance of photos and closet full of photo albums. I’d mail the double photos to Mom, but after she passed, they were all returned to me.

I’m finally addressing the elephant in my closet by tackling one album a day. I take out the photos I want to keep and put them in a photo box. The album with remaining photos gets tossed.

Here are a few photos I found this week that bring back memories:

Here I am at our property with both kids, my daughter aged 18 months, throwing a punch?

My son before little sis was born, bathing in the kitchen sink.

Baby Kat at our park for the Fireman’s annual egg hunt.

My son eating steamer clams we dug together in Washington at my mom’s house. Funny, he’s allergic to all seafood now.

My husband and I took a rewards trip to Hong Kong thanks to the company he worked for. This is the parking lot of the Peninsula Hotel. I couldn’t believe their fleet of cars. Or the flowers for a wedding.

Wow! I’ve never seen a wedding with so many flowers before. I guess it goes along with the cars.

Then in typical China fashion, this was a side of pork at a local open air market. Such a contrast between the haves and have nots.

A picture of me in Hong Kong. We were all turned around time wise and I tripped on the curb outside our hotel — my first steps outside — and sprained my ankle. We have lots of photos of me sitting on that trip wearing an ace bandage. Kind of foreshadowed our trip to the lake in Eastern Arizona last month!

What do you do with photos from the past vs. digital photos?

Where Hope Lives!

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I took this photo to catch the morning light on our money plant.

Wednesday was a ribbon-cutting ceremony and reception for a kitchen we helped fund at the Phoenix Dream Center. The Phoenix Dream Center I’ve mentioned before. In it’s former life, it was an Embassy Suites Hotel. Now it’s a residential facility for sex-trafficked women.

Although it’s not in a good area of Phoenix, it offers a chance at recovery and a renewal for many teens and women. The kitchen my women’s group bought appliances for is a respite and educational center for women who choose to keep their babies. It was a space that previously was used for storage, then a break room for staff.

A couple who own a construction company, transformed the space into a living area with a large screen TV where babies and toddlers can relax and play while moms cook for them. There’s a large dining room table in the room adjacent to the kitchen where moms and kids can share meals. Like one staff member told us, “The heart of the home is the kitchen.” It’s a place for assembly and fellowship.

The construction couple designed the plans and used their employees to complete the rebuild. The owner said they hired an AC guy who was a graduate of the Phoenix Dream Center and now owns a HVAC company. They said they often use current people in the recovery program as apprentices to teach them skills to help ensure their future.

Their vision was to have a place where women residents could learn basics of cooking. They explained that many of the women were trafficked at a young age. They never learned things like following recipes, measurements, menu planning, etc. Things we all take for granted. After they learn basic skills, the center will bring in guest chefs.

Wow. I was impressed on how beautiful the room turned out. It’s more than a kitchen, it’s a place for mothers and babies to hang out together, learn and feel safe.

The construction couple gave us a tour of the Children’s Learning Center, which will be finished by the end of the month. It’s a daycare center for infants up to preschool. They have rooms for each age from one to preschool age. They stressed the only way to break the cycle of sex trafficking and victimhood is through education. The three-year-olds will begin to learn to read. The four-year-olds will read aloud to caregivers. The five- and six-year-olds are in preschool and will be prepared to enter public school at the same level as their peers.

Meanwhile, the children’s learning center is a safe place for up to 95 children. While moms continue with therapy, training and education at the Phoenix Dream Center, the moms have a safe place to leave their children — right in the heart of the center. We were told that when moms graduate the program, they can use the center for free daycare. Most women starting out on a new life do not have the means for daycare.

The Phoenix Dream Center is protected by Homeland Security plus local Sheriffs and Police. We learned that a 13-year-old girl can earn their trafficker $300,000 a year. If he has three girls, he’s making big money. They often want to get their “property” back after they’ve been rescued by law enforcement. That’s why there is full-time security, plus high tech DHS equipment — and more they didn’t discuss with us.

Not only am I impressed with the mission of the Phoenix Dream Center and how it changes lives, the couple I met who are donating their time, money and expertise to bring these plans to fruition, truly got me teary eyed.

Here are a few photos from the kitchen we helped support. Next, we’re buying refrigerators for the Children’s Learning Center along with computers for their pre-school.

Thanks for coming along on my tour and ribbon-cutting ceremony at the Phoenix Dream Center — Where Hope Lives!

Please share your thoughts.

The Color Lallow

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Easter Egg hunt
Palm Springs annual Easter Egg Hunt in Ruth Hardy Park. My kids are standing on the right with their friends.

When my kids were young, they’d mispronounce a few words. Sometimes, we’d continue to say words the way they did. Eventually those “words” were adopted into our family’s lexicon.

Take the color “lallow.” That’s how my daughter said yellow.

I pushed my son in his stroller downtown Laguna Beach before little sister was born. He said “high gone” or “Hai Gòn.” I was confused at what he was saying. We stopped in our favorite bakery/deli and I bought him a chicken drumstick. He raised it high in the air and said “high gone!” To him, it looked like a helicopter. Chicken drumsticks became “high gones” in our family.

My daughter kept asking me for chicken when she was a toddler. I’d cook baked chicken, chicken and dumplings and every type of chicken I knew how to cook. She was always upset because it was the wrong chicken.

One day I made pan fried sole. My daughter said, “That is the chicken I like.” So we called sole “that chicken.” We still do.

What words did you or your children use that were unusual?

What sayings did your family use?

Why is my daughter so annoyed with me?

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My kids not wanting me to take their pic.
My kids not wanting me to take their pic.

I wrote this nine years ago. It’s my most read post to this day. I remember writing it while visiting a high school friend in my home town Snohomish.

I understand how she feels. After all, I was once 19 years old. I remember it very clearly.

Everything my mom did, I found unbelievably annoying.

I’ll never forget sitting with her in the car, getting ready to shop at Bellevue Square. She had parked the car. She was fumbling through her purse, making sure she had what she needed. She reapplied her lipstick. Dug through her purse for her wallet to look through credit cards. Searched several times to check where she placed the keys.

Mom and me in the early 90s.
Mom and me in the early 90s. I lost her to COVID in January 2023.

Would we never leave the car? Would I be stuck all day? I must have said something to her quite snippy, or flat out mean. A few tears rolled down her cheeks. Which made me more upset with her.

Isn’t it a sad feeling, transitioning from a mom who could do no wrong—from changing diapers, to cooking their favorite spaghetti, to taping treasured colorings on the fridge that were made just for you—to being the person of their abject disdain?

It’s a tough new role. Let me tell you.

But, having gone through these feelings myself, I understand. I’m visiting my mom this week in her assisted living center. I talked about it with her, what I’m going through now, and what I felt like when I was 19. Fortunately, she doesn’t remember me ever being a snarky 19-year-old.

For some reason, I’ve gained more patience throughout my life and that has been a blessing. I’ve also learned forgiveness.

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My baby girl years ago.

Something else, I’ve learned through the years of parenting: this too shall pass.

It’s called independence and freedom. We want our children to grow and become separate human beings that can stand on their own. Sometimes they need to separate from us. A good time to do that is during their senior year of high school, or their freshman year of college. It’s a good thing. I keep telling myself that.

However, we also want to be treated with respect, and once again—someday—to be cherished.

A beach day with my daughter.
A beach day with my daughter.

I wrote more about separating from our kids and the experiences we go through when they leave for college HERE.

I miss my mom. So much.

Why do you think some posts are discovered and read throughout the years, while others are not?

Do you think when people close to us are going through rough times, it’s easy for them to take it out on those closest to them?

Another mother’s heartache

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On Monday, I was celebrating fun memories of my daughter on her birthday. Then I saw a post by a mother whose daughter shared the same birthday with my daughter. Our daughters knew each other as student-athletes at the University of Utah. I didn’t know they had the same birthday until Monday. I texted my daughter if she knew. She said she did. I remember how devastated my daughter was on the day she learned of Lauren’s death.

As I was rejoicing the life of my daughter, this mother was grieving her loss. I burst into tears realizing how fortunate I am.

The other mom heard her daughter’s death happen, on the phone, while she was talking to her daughter when she was shot to death by a stalker.

“‘There but for the grace of God, go I.”

Lauren’s story is a harrowing event that made national news. The mother has worked to keep Lauren’s memory alive, plus began a foundation with the following mission:

Our Mission

Dating violence and stalking are some of the most pressing issues facing universities and colleges today. One third of all women report dating violence by a current or previous partner. University and college campuses are not trained to respond effectively to these problems. The Lauren McCluskey Foundation was founded to honor the life and spirit of Lauren Jennifer McCluskey by bringing awareness to, funding research for, and providing resources to change the culture that responds poorly to dating violence and stalking on campuses.

Our mission is to let Lauren’s light shine by supporting her passions, including animal welfare, amateur athletics, and by making campuses across the country a place where students are safe, supported, and have the ability to thrive.

https://laurenmccluskey.org/

If you’d like more information about Lauren and the Lauren McLuskey Foundation, please visit their website at https://laurenmccluskey.org/.

Here’s a story from their website that was written on the fifth anniversary of her death: Universities worldwide make ‘Lauren’s Promise’ to listen, believe, 5 years after McCluskey murder

How can I be so fortunate while this other mother is in pain?

Backyard beach adventure

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My daughter and me in the backyard of a house we used to rent in Laguna Beach.

We rented a house in Laguna Beach to escape the high temperatures of Palm Springs in the summertime. We rented with another family from Memorial weekend to Labor day, splitting the summer in half.

The family who owned the house were school teachers. They took off to Alaska each summer as rangers.

I was worried the first time I visited the house. The backyard dropped off into a canyon. There were railroad ties between the lawn and a cliff. Having a two-year old son, I was worried the yard was too dangerous.

The owner laughed and said she raised three boys in that house and there was never an issue.

Me and my son at the beach in Laguna.

I’ll never forget the first time we rented the house. We told our son we were going to the beach. He grabbed a shovel and bucket and said, “Let’s go!” He was headed to the edge of the lawn and railroad ties, where there was a view of the ocean.

“No!” I stopped him. “We have to drive to the beach.”

Later that summer, I couldn’t find the T.V. remote control. My husband worked in Palm Springs during the weekdays and I was alone with my son except for weekends.

I was six months pregnant with my daughter at the time.

“It’s down there!” my son said pointing to the cliff dropping to the canyon.

“What?” I asked.

“I threw it down there,” my son said, pointing.

I strapped him in his stroller before I ventured into the canyon. I made my way over the railroad ties, clinging onto shrubs for dear life, as I scrambled along the steep incline. Needless to say I was a wreck by the time I made it back up the steep cliff into the backyard. No, I didn’t find the remote.

My son seemed fascinated watching me from the safety of his stroller.

I pushed my son in his stroller into the house, unbuckled him and collapsed on the sofa.

My son joined me on the sofa and fetched the remote control from under a throw pillow.

“Here it is!” he said.

My kids at the Laguna Beach house, sitting on the hearth wearing sofa arm protectors as hats.

To this day, I have no clue why my son told me he threw the remote control into the canyon. I’m sure he was entertained watching me as I held onto branches and bushes to not tumble down the cliff.

What unexpected things have your kids done to make your life exciting?

The Letter

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My toddler daughter at Aliso Beach in Laguna, California.

My daughter called and asked me about a letter from her best friend that I never gave her. I had forgotten all about it. But wouldn’t you know, my husband on a separate phone call with her, brought it up.

“Why would your dad say anything about the letter?” I asked instantly upset.

“Mom, I’m 27 years old. I can handle it.”

At the time of the letter, my daughter was 13 years old. My daughter and her best friend had been together since birth. We (my friend and I) helped each other out with our second children by taking turns having them together several times a week. That gave one of us time to clean, shop or sleep! The older siblings were in half-day preschool.

I homeschooled our daughter sixth through eighth grade when our son began high school. Our daughter’s best friend was at a public middle school and we agreed to pick her up once a week while her mom was at work.

The plan was to have a craft or art project each Wednesday. Sometimes my daughter wanted to hang out with her best friend and not have a designated project. I thought everything was peachy when my friend said she had a letter to drop off from her daughter to mine.

She told me to read the letter before I gave it to my daughter. I was shocked. My daughter’s best friend was ending their friendship and said she was promised an art project on Wednesdays. She hoped my daughter would understand if they saw each other that she wouldn’t speak to her. She was never speaking to her again. I can’t remember exactly what else was in the letter, but it was mean and there was no way I’d let my daughter read that letter and be hurt.

I threw the letter away.

Of course my daughter wanted to know why Wednesdays were off and why she wasn’t going to her best friend’s house on Saturday, or having her over to our house.

I explained as best I could that her friend was going through some troubling times and to be patient and things would go back to normal. There were three major upheavals in the girl’s life that she was struggling through that I won’t share. But they were major and beyond what I thought my daughter needed to learn about at the time. I do think this rejection from her best friend without explanation has affected my daughter’s relationships today.

Their friendship was never the same again, although later in life they became civil.

Question. Would you have given the letter to your daughter or thrown it away like I did? Why or why not?