I'm Home

I have been thinking a lot of home lately. Not just these four walls in which I live but what a home means. What makes a home? What is it about the biological makeup of women that we feel such a desire to have and make a home? To be always working, tidying, arranging, scrubbing, fixing, changing...And what is it that makes all humankind yearn for home? That pulls young and old alike to gather at "home" for special occasions, long weekends, reunions and the like?



"Home for the Holidays"



"Home Sweet Home"



"All Roads Lead Home"



"I'll Be Home for Christmas"



"Home is Where Your Heart Is"



I think of the places that I have lived over the years. They aren't many and they aren't far apart. There are moments that stand out in my mind from each dwelling. I remember beauty pageants enacted on our front steps by my sisters and I in the home I grew up in. I remember a summer project in which those front steps were replaced with a beautiful white front porch worthy of "Gone With the Wind."



I think of the little basement apartment in Logan. The home where I became a wife. The home with walls so thin we could hear the fighting (and later the making up!) of the landlords who shared the house.



I remember the little white county house that became our home after I secured my first teaching contract. The home where I became a mom. I remember the first time I bathed my own new baby in the kitchen sink of that home. He was so wiggly and slippery. And, when I dried him off, much of his hair came off in the towel! And he smelled so scrumptious and yummy as I snuggled him in the fluffy towel with sunlight streaming in the kitchen windows and little soapy puddles on the floor.

I remember our first home that came with a mortgage. I insisted we paint it yellow upon moving in. If I had my way, every house I ever lived in would be painted yellow. I remember Mrs. Duncan, the little old lady that sold us her house and went shopping with me for carpet and paint. That home was nestled in the middle of the best neighborhood ever. Sunday afternoon walks took hours as we stopped in driveways and on front steps to chat with wonderful friends. I grew my first garden all by myself at that home and practiced canning to fill up my tiny pantry with one diaper-clad helper.

And now, I sit in my home, surrounded by four beautiful children and all the "stuff" that comes with such an entourage. There are crumbs under the kitchen table. Laundry is hanging to dry and overflowing from hampers, waiting to be folded. There are dishes to be washed. There is also laughter. And hugs. And kisses, if I am lucky. A family picture hangs framed on the wall and, under it, the words "Happy Hearts, Helping Hands." Admonition or recipe?

As I look at the clutter that makes up my home, I hear the words of my good friend in my ear, "It's clean underneath." A mantra of sorts. And I realize that, as I look back on my memories of home, I don't remember cleaning the toilets, sweeping the floors, washing the dishes, although I am sure that those things happened. I am certain that I even did them. Instead, I remember swimming pools, swingsets, long walks, reading stories by the light of tiki torches, naps in the sun, food and games with friends...I guess 'clean underneath' can be enough.

Thinking of the places that I have called home makes me wonder about the future. What other homes will I decorate, rearrange, clean and care for? What memories will be made there?

"When I leave this frail existence, when I lay this mortal by, Father, Mother, may I greet thee in thy royal courts on high?" What house am I earning there? And can one have red walls in a heavenly mansion? Is such a bold, unforgiving color allowed? And do I have to clean my toilets in heaven, because really, who would it be heaven for if that person had to clean toilets?

I sincerely hope that having my home and my life "clean underneath" will be enough to buy me a mansion there. With red walls. Because that is a homecoming I am really looking forward to.

But I have a few more houses to paint yellow first.

In Honor of Mother's Day

This is an interview conducting with 5 year old Noah about his mom.

1. What is something Mom always says to you? I love you.

2. What makes Mom happy? Me doing my chores and cleaning up the house after dinner.

3. What makes Mom sad? Me not obeying

4. How does your mom make you laugh? Tells me jokes

5. What was your mom like as a child? I don't really know

6. How old is your mom? Like 69 or something

7. How tall is your mom? Just a little bit taller than Porter

8. What is her favorite thing to do? Play with me

9. What does your mom do when you aren't around? Maybe like clean up the house

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Playing the piano good, cuz I'll teach you how, Mom.

11. What is your mom really good at? Working on the computer

12. What is your mom not very good at? Turning on the tv cuz she doesn't want us to watch tv all day.

13. What does your mom do for a job? Work on the computer

14. What is your mom's favorite food? Chicken casserole and salad

15. What makes you proud of your mom? Her playing with me

16. What do you and your mom do together? Play cars and trucks

17. How are you and your mom the same? Kind of have the same color of hair, and freckles

18. How are you and your mom different? She wears girl clothes and I don't

19. How do you know your mom loves you? Cuz she plays with me and she says it 20 times every day!

20. What does your mom like most about your dad? He kisses her and loves her and cares for her and provides for her

21. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? To town and to the beach

Going Private

I just don't know what this world is coming to. Strangers are trying to follow kids home from school in my neighborhood, my very favorite blogger, cjane, is being plagiarized by fellow bloggers, and there has to be an unneccessary preoccupation with maintaining "two-deep" leadership everywhere to protect ourselves and our children. I read the police reports every week in my job as copy editor of the local newspaper and I am telling you, it is a scary world out there! To further protect my children's little faces from being copied and pasted in places I am unaware, I have decided to make my blog private. Based on the comments that appear here, I am talking to a vast readership of three. However, in the event (and hard hope) that there may be more people who have nothing better to do with their time that look at pictures and read sappy posts about my adorable family, I am letting you know now. I will make the switch at the end of May.

If you would like to continue to see the aforementioned beautiful children of mine in print, just leave a comment on this post. I will need your email address and I can send you an invitation that will allow you to continue to be a part of all the exciting happenings at our house. And, it is not neccessary that you know me personally. So all you blogstalkers that know me as the friend of a friend of a friend, I don't care. Leave your email and I will include you. Some of my favorite cyber friends are only known to me through someone else. I don't want to discourage you from reading up on the crazy life of mahanamomma and her family. But, if China can hack into the secure computers at the pentagon, there is no telling what some sick people out there may do.

Signed,
a paranoid protective parent

p.s. While I keep telling myself that I do this blog thing to keep a record for my own family, I really do hope that I have a readership of more than three!

Signed,
a pitiful paranoid protective parent