WHO DIED AND MADE YOU QUEEN?

To be honest, I have been pondering this for several years but talking myself out of it the entire time. From the moment it was made plain to me at my brother’s funeral, I have pushed the thought aside. I vividly remember walking down the sidewalk with one of his friends after the service and he turned to me and stated quite matter of fact, “You know this makes you the matriarch of the family”.  Thinking to myself that it was such a funny little statement, I tucked it away for another day.

I surely didn’t ask for it, nor would I have chosen it. But fate dropped it squarely in my lap and slowly time has convinced me it’s true -- I am the Matriarch of the Kirk Family. And as funny as it looks typing it, it sounds just as silly in my head. But just to be sure I met the criteria, I verified the definition on the Internet as everything you read on the Google search is unquestionably true! Evaluating several different explanations, I concluded that a matriarch is indeed the oldest female head of the family; an older woman who is powerful within a family. But  in my case, only half the definition is true as I am still not willing to admit I am getting old. But you get the idea. A matriarch is a female version of the Godfather ie.  Elizabeth, Queen of England. Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy. Carol Brady. Marge Simpson.

For years I’ve had a fascination with royalty and love reading historical fiction about kings and queens of England, along with all the accompanying pomp and circumstance. Castles and princes and crowns, OH MY! But I am also intrigued with American royalty, specifically the couple from Camelot, Jack and Jackie. Who couldn’t love the Kennedys and all the glam associated with their fascinating and handsome family. As a little girl, I remember looking at snapshots of Caroline and was completely convinced she was a storybook  princess. With her perfectly side-swept bang held tightly in place with a large bow and those cute little freckles, it made me wish I was her. Magazines, TV documentaries, and books all romanticize the Kennedy family along with their lifestyle but clearly there was one who was the head of their clan — Rose.

I envision her sitting on a stately chair in the Kennedy mansion, wearing the family ring as might a queen or pope, directing all the inner workings of the family -- holiday and vacation gatherings on their Martha's Vineyard compound,  menus for galas, proper schools her grandchildren would attend along with the choicest marriage prospects for all. Without question, her children would come to her for advice about anything and everything. She was the I-Ching of the brood and not an engagement was announced unless Grandmother Rose gave her nod of approval. And while every female baby would be christened a good Irish Catholic name of their parent's choosing, all would be expected to receive the middle name Rose. So much influence she seemed to have, but having one foot in the grave and  a hundred million bucks sitting in her bank account may have given the minions some incentive.

In contrast, as the prevailing Kirk Matriarch I feel a bit sub-par and concede that as I've yet to hit the lottery  all I’ve got going for me is The Ring and hoped that just as the Ruby Red Slippers, the power came when I put it on. But to date, despite wearing The Ring, no one had yet to ask me if their future spouse was suitable for them, so I simply tucked a check into the wedding card and wished them the best of luck. Similarly, any sound wisdom or advice I would impart to all the new, young parents in the family such as feeding rice cereal before 4 months so that the baby sleeps, using warm blankets in the crib so that the baby sleeps, or avoiding the flat-head syndrome sleeping positions by putting the baby on their stomach so that the baby sleeps, would border on a death-wish from the Old Crone so it’s best I leave it to them to make their own parenting blunders. When all else fails, I know that sleep deprivation has a way of bringing Dr. Spock back from the dead.

As for the stately heirloom chair bequeathed to me by my grandparents, I gifted it to my daughter who having not a traditional bone in her body recovered it in fabric, that through no fault of her own, now resembles stylish, yet futuristic  mid-century spider webs. But that’s another anecdote for a different day.

Quite frankly, for the past several years I’ve indisputably fumbled my duties. Sound matriarchal advice was given by me that resembled nothing more than clanging brass to tone deaf ears. Although in all fairness to myself, is there anyone under 40 who thinks  the old folks know anything? Or maybe I just needed the ancestral chair so that my point of view may have sounded more consequential while  sitting on it.   But with mixed nostalgia I remember having gifted it away and it no longer resides with me. Finally, I have yet to persuade even one parent to name their offspring after me.

Seven new babies have been welcomed into our family over the past several years and yet not one Christianna!  We have a Henry, Grant and Gabriel along with a Mila, Charlotte, Maeve, Audrey and Reece and two on the way!   But this Grande Dame is still holding out hope her namesake will arrive one day.  And if, like me, she ends up becoming the Kirk Matriarch, I know exactly what she will need-- just The Ring and The Chair, because she will already have been given a great name fit for a Queen Bee!

CHOOSE HAPPY

If you missed this AMAZING sunrise this morning, no worries because I saved it for you as I am well aware that not everyone is an early bird like me.  As is usual, I was brewing my java around 5:30 and making my early morning noises that I know drive my hubs crazy one floor above me.  From the fridge to the table and back, to the coffeemaker, I shuffle along the kitchen floor doing this and that wearing ill-fitting, broken-in slippers that he claims sounds like Frankenstein stomping from room to room.  And if it weren’t for the last-minute, midnight feast he snacked on just before coming to bed, I would not feel the need to clank any dishes while loading the dishwasher.  But he knows I hate love waking up to a sink full of dishes, so he graciously accommodates me. 

So like business as usual,  plopping myself down at the kitchen table, always sitting on my left foot for comfort, I began my morning ritual of clearing my thoughts and reading my morning devotional.  Always in the back of my mind I am secretly hoping and praying my cat doesn’t start HER daily ritual of hurling up a hairball along with the food I just gave her on the carpet, but never on the linoleum.   With not a hack to be heard,  I was  deep into 1 Peter's verse about, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins” when I looked up and there is was.

I knew I only had minutes, and perhaps even seconds as the morning sky changes ever so quickly at dawn, so I ran like a deer for my camera!  There was no time for futzing around with manual camera settings and didn't want to take the chance of making any exposure errors as I am so adept at doing, so I quickly spun the dial to fully automatic setting and shot away.  What I saw on the LCD screen of my camera looked great, but I’ve been sadly disappointed numerous times after downloading it onto my computer  and it looked nothing like what I saw with my eye.   But today was magic!  What showed up on my computer screen literally took my breath away as only God could paint a sunrise this spectacular!

My first thought as I viewed this photo was how fortunate we all are to have sight to be able to even see  something this beautiful and then the realization that we were given yet another spanking new day with so many possibilities before us.  Yes, it’s so easy to fall into that trap of negativity.  The world today is down in the basement cra-cra, people are majorly imperfect, and life can be challenging as often times we have very little control over many situations.

Sadly, so many people wake up the same way they ended their yesterday-- disappointed, angry, and ungrateful wasting yet another day dredging up the same re-runs of yesterday's bad news and hurts.

It's time to move on because, in case you didn't get the memo,  yesterday is over!

So today, I share this beautiful sunrise with you.  A new day without spot nor wrinkle as a reminder that when you wake up each morning, you can choose to be happy or choose to be sad -- it is pretty much up to you. So, when the sun shines through your window tomorrow or the next day, do yourself a favor and choose to make it a happy day!

ALWAYS CHOOSE HAPPY!

WELCOME TO MIMI'S!

One of my all-time favorite Christmas movies is It’s a Wonderful Life—a story about George and Mary Baily. A staple of the Christmas movie classics, it is hard to imagine anyone having never viewed it. Each and every year I hunker down in front of my tv under a nice cozy blanket and although every scene is etched in my memory, within minutes tears will be flowing.

Packed full of life lessons such as marry the right person, don’t hire someone just because they are family, how to deliver a great toast, realizing how blessed you already are, and your life has purpose are just a few of its great sentiments. Each of these messages have had a direct correlation at some point in my life. Take for instance the old and dilapidated house George and Mary bought. It’s a real home, crap, home but Mary had the vision of making a hole in the wall a haven of loveliness. Having lived in and through six different house restorations, I remember the angst each time the hubs announced he’d found just the perfect fixer-upper for us to restore! From trees growing out of the basement entry way to squirrels running around in the attic, we’d seen it all. But it was he who had Mary’s vision and by the time 15 pails of spackling were sanded down, we’d created yet another beautiful home! Lines like, “Oh, look at this wonderful old drafty house, Mary!” had personal meaning with me. But my favorite moment of the movie occurs as the sound of a little bell rings as Clarence, the angel sent to help George, earns his angel wings. For whatever reason, I love the symbolism of a ringing bell idea connecting heaven and earth when significant things occur in our life. How wonderful it would be to know that our loved ones in heaven were witnessing all those momentous occasions with us such as marriages, births of children and grandchildren, graduations and so forth with the sound of the tinkling of a bell.

Just as when Clarence got his wings, the bell should especially chime for every grandchild born and a new Mimi and Pap are initiated into the Grandparents Club. Whether you are a Mimi, Mema, Nana, GiGi, GoGo, Gamma, Grandma, or ChaCha —it doesn’t matter. There is just nothing in the entire world to compare as your heart is changed forever with just one look at those soft, sweet bundles cradled your arms. Your children having children. Nothing could be more beautiful. And while the parents have the weight of the world on their shoulders to mold these demanding little creatures into model citizens, as tradition requires, the grandparents get a pass. For the first time in your life, spoiling a child is not only allowed, it’s a requirement!

There is just something magical about being able to do everything you’ve always wanted to do for your kids, but wouldn’t dare knowing it would spoil them rotten. The three word that all good parents never use--INDULGE, CODDLE, PAMPER are now every Mimi’s MO. Avocado toast takes on new meaning at the grandparent house—it’s called waffles. Condiments include whip cream, sprinkles, and chocolate chips because there is nothing worse than low blood sugars of a toddler having a meltdown. Mimi’s famous homemade Macaroni N Cheese becomes the staple of every lunch menu along with Bryers all-natural ice cream for dessert topped with “Pream” (whipped cream). Play time covers everything from Ninja wars, Play-do ground into carpets, never again won board games, pushing Little Tyke vehicles around the driveway until you your lungs explode, and napping only when Mimi is finally exhausted by the words, “Again, Mimi, Again”. But the crème de la crème of spoiling… “Mimi, can I have this toy? Yes, you can have that toy. How much is it?!?” Cha-ching!

Though the years I learned from the best and was taking mental notes along the way as to how it was done. Having nine grandchildren to dote upon, my parents took their roles seriously. Upon entering their home, you found the cookie jar was always filled with Oreos and the backup package of Chips Ahoy sat unopened on the baking counter ready for little fingers. Popsicle boxes were squeezed into the freezer beside the thick and ever-growing un-defrosted ice that lined its walls. French onion dip sat on the 2nd row of the fridge just beside the chipped ham. The tall cabinet next to the fridge was filled with every type of box and bag snack imaginable and a few lone pieces of fruit sat on the counter within reach of all, but were never touched by any. I never saw a bottle of juice in their house in 50 years, but pop flowed like lava.

For fun with the grands, my parents invested in two different life long membership passes—Penn Aqua Swim Club and the Pittsburgh Zoo. It did not matter how many times they’d been there, if my parents were babysitting any kids for the day, they went to the zoo. If it was a hot, they went to the pool.

Everybody loved going to Penn Aqua. There were pools for all ages. The main pool, the diving tank and the ever warm- ever pee contaminated baby pool. Just across the walkway from the baby pool, was the blanket space my dad owned for years and everyone knew just where he sat. Along with a bunch of grandkids, my dad hauled along a change jar in his pool bag and all the kids were given full reign to help themselves whenever they wanted a treat from the snack stand. And in between snacks, they swam, got dunked or thrown under the water but no one ever drowned nor wanted to leave.

My parents took the kids to toy stores, dimes stores and restaurants. They read them stories, ground play-do into their carpet, and made crafts. They hugged, cuddled, and loved them unconditionally then sent them back home to their parents. As the holidays approached, my parents sat at the dining room table together and wrapped, and wrapped and wrapped. And then wrapped some more. They loved indulging all the kids, but gifts or no gifts, snacks, candy or not, their grandkids loved them more than anything. And the feelings were mutual.

There is a special bond between a grandchild and a grandparent that can only be understood by them. It has nothing to do with candy, nor presents, or indulgences and everything to do with love. To become a member of the Grandparents Club is one of life’s greatest blessing and if you are lucky enough, you will be blessed abundantly! So, ring the heavenly bell for all to hear as there is nothing better in the whole wide world than seeing them come running up your walkway, outstretched arms yelling, “Mimi! Pap! I’m here!” And with a twinkle in our eyes, and a big grin and a hug, all that’s left to say is …....

WELCOME TO MIMI'S!