Picking Your Battles............

Being a mother is not for the faint of heart.  It's a job that does not come with weekends, days off, or vacation.  It's a job that calls for decisions that are often deemed heartless by one's own offspring.  Sometimes you just have to stand your ground and wait for enough time to pass that they see the reasoning behind your "heartlessness" and thank you for it.  It's a tricky dance to ensure that your child is well taken care of, healthy, and happy.

In fact, happy is usually the hardest part. You spend a lot of time second guessing yourself, and sometimes it takes years before you know you did, or did not do, the right thing.

What makes our children happy sometimes breaks our hearts, scares us to death, enrages us, and can even drive us to despair.

Don't get worried, I am just talking about a shirt.  You would not think that just a shirt could put anyone through such anguish, unless you were a mother.

All my children had blankies as babies that gradually fell apart by the time the children were about 3.

I saved these blankies faithfully, even when there were only shreds of them left.

I felt it was the right thing to do.

Now, I know it was the right thing to do.  If you have ever seen your child's face light up when they see a long lost "friend" such as this, you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't yet seen this, save the crap they love, even if it's gross.  Just do the best you can.  They can throw it away if they want.  It's theirs to throw, all in good time.

How could I throw away something my babies loved?

Throw away part of their security?  NEVER!

I carefully saved and packed away those blankies, or what was left of them, packed in plastic bags so that no bugs, no mold, no bad smells, would desecrate what meant so much to my children.

Lately, however, this particular battle has come back around to haunt me.

I offer the prosecution's exhibit 1.

I don't think this picture does justice to how bad of a shape this poor sweatshirt is in.

It used to be white.

It came into my youngest babies life when he was in 7th grade.

He wore it MUCH.

That was 5 years ago.

It's been through a lot with him.

Possibly the most important years of his life.

I have wrestled with getting rid of it for at least 3 years now.

He loves this sweatshirt as much as he loved his blankie when he was small.

Here is another shot against an off-white washing machine.

It certainly was worth whatever money I spent on it, I must admit.

Especially considering I undoubtedly bought it at a garage sale or a second hand shop.

But.

It's lost it's shape.  It's a dingy gray now, no matter how much I bleach it, add baking soda to the laundry.

Oxiclean has no effect.

I've tried everything except dying it.

I draw the line here because 1) It might upset his delicate emotional balance as it relates to this shirt, and 2) I usually make a terrible mess of things like that and would probably end up with odd splotches of color for months on good clothes.

Believe me, it would happen.

It's lost it's shape.

It's cuffs are torn and tattered.

It hangs on him like a rag.

It has been a really good shirt.  Hollister, my hat is off to you.  Salute!

People might well think it has survived a terrible fire, barely.

I could not blame them for drawing this conclusion, but they would be wrong.

I would feel better if it had survived a terrible fire.

At least that would be a reasonable explanation.

It is getting too embarrassing for me to allow him to wear it anymore.

Can you see my point here?

I mean, I know he loves this shirt.

He has worn it without interruption except for the one time I tried to throw it away, about 2 years ago.

He found it in the trash and told me in no uncertain terms that it was his favorite sweatshirt and he could not live without it.

Could. Not. LIVE.

He felt betrayed that I had thrown it away.

I felt terrible.  I had betrayed him by throwing it away.  I was a bad mom!

But not as terrible as I did when he wore it to school..........

"What must people think of me?" I wondered.  The ego never dies, even if all you have left that you really care about is your laundry skills.  Menopause, the great apathetic state that can be soothing at times.

So when we moved I did not have the heart to throw it away again.

I saw it in the laundry the first week we were here.

 I lobbed that sucker up on top of a pile of cleaning rags in the laundry room.

I had peace of mind for about 2 weeks.

2 weeks that my poor Youngest Baby was frantic looking for his favorite sweatshirt.

He finally decided he had lost it in the move.  Or so I thought.

I thought I had won that battle.  

I consoled myself with the knowledge that I could give it back to him after he had acclimated himself to wearing the many good, warm, unstained, untorn sweatshirts that he has.  In his closet.  Anxiously waiting their turn to get to be worn.

They deserve a turn!!

It is a testament to either his love for this damn thing or just his stubborn, single-minded devotion to all things HIS that he looked until he found it.

I can assure you, he has never surveyed the rag pile before.

I had not won that battle.

I am such a fool.

So tonight, when I found it in the laundry again, (Drat!  Foiled again!) I said

"Youngest Baby?  This sweatshirt........I don't care if you keep it, but could you not wear it anymore?"

This brought a hearty round of laughter from the boys around my kitchen table playing the Magic game.

(The Magic game is some kind of game played with cards.....probably just as bad as video games but not video games, which puts me on the side of the Magic game.)

My Youngest Baby looked hurt.  My heart broke a little more.

His friends said they knew which shirt I spoke of.

They said he wore it to school.  My face got red.

I said it looked like orphan's rags.

He said that shirt had been through a lot with him.

I said I understood.

But then I begged him not to wear it in public anymore.

It's a work shirt, I said.

It's a perfect shirt to work on the car, or burn leaves, I said.

"If I can find another shirt exactly like it?  Would you quit wearing it then?"  I bargained.

He agreed to that.

So now I have a mission.  Possibly an impossible one.

I don't want my Youngest Baby to be unhappy.

I also cannot stand the embarrassment of him wearing this shirt in public ever again.

But I do not have the heart to make that happen because it would hurt him too much.

For whatever reason, this shirt has taught me a lesson.

I am not nearly as tough as I like to pretend.

Oh, I can talk the talk.

I can talk it all day long.

In fact, I am pretty convincing.

But my babies are just as sentimental as I am, and I am proud of that.

In the end, embarrassed as I am that people either think I'm so poor my children have to wear the same clothes endlessly for 5 years at a time, or that I never wash their clothes (which of those 2 things are worse, exactly???) I am a big, old, push over.

At least when it comes to my babies and the things (disgusting as they may sometimes be) that mean a lot to them.

I am not heartless, and this is a good thing.

But do you think people know that?  Or do they just think I'm filthy?

Does this really matter?

No.

All that matters is that I have finally found a way to compromise.

My youngest baby gets to keep the shirt.

In fact, I may frame it.

At least that way he won't wear it anymore.

What's a mother to do when her child's heart is involved?

It's just a shirt.  What's left of a shirt.

Much more bleach and it will surely disintegrate, right?  But that would kill him.

I guess I will look for a frame, and another sweatshirt just like it.

Update of Winter Garden....

It has been cold here.  The pansy's I planted outside have some ice on them this morning.  It will be almost 60 today though.  It is warm, and they are snuggled down in a protective layer of leaves.

They are doing fine, considering they looked like this a few weeks ago.  I got this basket at the Heart and Home Tea Room, and put it in the ground so that this spring it will be full of flowers.

Inside, my bulbs that burst forth so fast are flagging.  I am keeping them moist but I think it's been too cold and they have not had enough sunshine.  I almost moved them to the porch the other day, but then thought better of it.  I think it is always better to let them struggle and make it on their own.  I KNOW that it gives better grapes, so we will see if they rally or linger or what.

On the 23rd of November I ran across some seeds for herbs and flowers and thought I'd plant some just to see if they would do anything this winter in the old retreat around the garden tub.  There is a Habitat for Humanity Restore where I found a bunch of flower pots and baskets for $1 each, so I grabbed a bunch and put in Four O'Clock seeds from Paula I've had for years, Rosemary, Thyme, Green Onions (because the ones I transplanted died in the pot.  So I bought another bunch and will drag the jelly jar back out), and Mustard.

So far, I have Four O'Clock's coming up in the beige pot pictured above.  They get pretty big, almost a bush, and produce the prettiest flowers that open in the late afternoon and close in the mornings.  Hopefully these will be ready to transplant outside as good sized plants this spring.

That, at least, is my hope.  They may not make it, we will just have to see.  That is why I only planted a few of each.  If I get a head start in the spring great.  If nothing makes it till then, I tried but still have plenty of seeds left.

In this snazzy red pot, look who has popped up.

Thyme.  Common Thyme.

Thyme for courage.

Associated with treating uterine (women's) issues

Also a cure for whooping cough.

Thyme thrives best with plenty of room to spread out.

Much like women themselves.

How cool is that?

I Know A Place.......

I love the area we live in now.  We live in a town, but in the country.  It doesn't take more than 20 minutes to get to a town with stores, but just about 7 miles up the road from our new house is a cafe that it hurts me to pass and not stop at.   At the junction of highway 59 and 86 in Neosho, Missouri, just across the road from the 86 Super Store, is a little house is called the Heart and Home Tea Room.

I had seen the sign from the highway that said Heart and Home Cafe now open (!!) courtesy of a banner outside, but was hesitant to assume that this cute little house was a business.  I didn't know, so I drove by several times, slowly, checking it out.  I have always loved the houses made from stone down here, and I think this house put a spell on me from the highway.

I finally decided to stop one day when I saw some cars there.  There is a lot to see.  The yard is full of plants and statues and really cool stuff to see.  The more you look, the more you see that you want to look at more closely.  Like a bed and breakfast usually is on the inside, the Heart and Home Tea Room is on the outside, too.

And it was a house, but now it's a business.   A business which I think will be very successful!!   How can I begin to describe this wonderful little place?  Well, you can get breakfast and lunch there Tuesday thru Friday.  It's also a shop, and almost everything you see, both outside and inside, is also for sale.  Lots of decor, wreaths, old wire baskets, candles, baskets, I could go on, but you get the idea.

They are located in an area that is just perfect for me, and I assume everybody else who lives just outside the zone where there are lots of restaurants, which is several hundred people.  If only they were open for dinner I would be perfectly happy, but making food this good can only go on so long, so by 2 every afternoon, it's over, and if you haven't gotten your pie, it's too late.  I have known places like this before, and it's always the way it goes.

When I say there is more to see everywhere you look, I am not kidding.  I noticed these quirky little additions to the sidewalk on my first visit.  I thought there was just one.

But no, these charming little trinkets are sprinkled throughout.....I smiled as they brought to mind grandma's, small children, and memories of button boxes.

It was hard to even look up, to tell the truth.  This house is of gray and yellow stones and it has a charming dignity.  It gives the impression of being both well grounded and well loved.

I gazed around and hoped people weren't staring at me from inside, but there was so much to take in!  It's gorgeous.

I wondered if the fence sections were for sale.

I've always been a sucker for angels, and there are several here.

The more you look, the more you see.

This sweet green door is the entrance, if you can tear yourself away long enough to go inside.  You should.  It gets better.

It's unpretentious and straight forward.  Every inch of space has been utilized and they know no strangers here.  Once in that door you will be welcomed like you are related, visited with and urged to make yourself at home, look around, pick a seat and come back when you are ready.  Or, if your food is ready before you get back they will come getcha.

Inside I moved slowly, just taking everything in.  Linda, the proprietress, made me feel so welcome and I had just ordered the special after a lengthy conversation with her about broccoli salads and the like.  To be honest, I'm just going to say that the first time I ate there I was blown away.  They have real food there, you guys. REAL FOOD.  Like your grandma made.  Maybe better.  I swear on all that is holy to me, they have better coconut cream pie than even my dear Nana, and it does pain me just a little to say that. But it's the truth.  Maybe it's just been so long since I had Nana's that I forgot.  All I know is this pie is memorable and to my mind, it approaches sacredness.

That pie has kept me awake at night on more than one occasion.  It really is that good.

As long as I'm being honest I'll go ahead and throw in that I have eaten there 3 times and have yet to look at the menu.  I wanted to, because I knew I was going to do this post, but I just never did get around to it.  There is always something new to see and there was just another grandbaby born and well, there is lots to catch up on.  Besides, the special has always been so good that I can't imagine anything better.  In this way good cooks keep you coming back.

One of my favorite things is when nothing matches.  It's full of eclectic, practical furniture.  Maybe it came with the house.  Maybe it was the first set that someone's parents had.  Maybe it was just a chair one of the kids drug home from college and would never take away.  You don't know but you would like to the hear the story.  Maybe that's just me.
The food is straight up down home with a little class, and the atmosphere is very welcoming.  I do not believe you will ever see instant mashed potatoes on a plate here.  In fact, I would be shocked.  The broccoli soup is good enough to have every time.  Very rich, creamy and there are croutons and bacon bits that are chewy.  I've had it every time and have wondered how much they would charge for an entire crock pot full.  I could marry that soup.

The first day I brought a book but never read any of it.  You can see why, even from here.  Every shelf has something else that draws the eye.  I wandered through the rooms and kind of hated to come back and sit down.

This is the room I always eat in.  So far.  I usually end up in conversation with some of the other patrons.  Mostly working men and older ladies who lunch.  Presumably on their way to town, I haven't found out where they are going yet, but I'm sure before long I will.  There is also 1 regular guy that I know of.  He has his own place to sit.  I don't think he would throw you out if you sat there, but you would never be invited to sit there.  I am pretty sure it's his place.  Linda's daughter was expecting a baby boy any day and her son-in-law wandered in last time I was there.  He told the ladies that it wasn't here yet, but it was a boy, and that he was done.  "God hears you!" I sang out.  He looked over and smiled.  I told him that's how I got twins.  I fully expect their 3rd child to be a girl.  I think she should be named for me.  :D  Anyway, I'm wandering around the place, and there are 3 different rooms you can eat in.  If you are an adult.

Or I guess just have tea.  I am assuming they have tea also since I've yet to see the menu, but I will make a point to study it the next time I'm there.   But there is plenty of choice in where you sit, should you desire to have lunch without random conversation from newcomers to the area, however prophetic it may turn out to be.  Ahem.

Birdhouses, candles, angels.  She's 3 for 3 with me and stuff I like.  I think the odds of you finding something you want are good.  You have been warned.  I said there were 3 rooms you could eat in if you are an adult for a reason, because there is another room.........

And when I say room, I mean, explosion of girly-ness.  Squared.

 This room tore my attention away from baskets and crucifixes that are displayed in the closet in the hallway.

And kept my attention for awhile.  I had to turn around and just take it all in.

Turns out one of their services is tea parties for little girls.  Parties.  That sort of thing.  And if you don't have anything to wear, well, that is not a problem.  It never is among girlfriends, is it girls?  No.  There is plenty to choose from.  Just come right on over.

I don't think you can actually take a bath, but it would just ruin the feathers anyway.  I mean, look at this room you guys!!

So I am thinking that I may be attending some parties in this room in the future, surrounded by little princesses who love me.  I see Charli having one of her first birthday parties here.  Yes, I did say "one of".  You drive right past this house to get to mine--We're having a party there!!  Also, Abigail is 6 now, and I feel the time is short for her princess obsession.  We must make the most of it!  Rosie, she is just the perfect age and will be for a couple years still, so yes, I see lots of tea parties.  Look at that cuteness!!!

Now, this is in the bathroom.  It's a very cool bathroom.  It has a chair where you can picture yourself just coming in and locking the door and collapsing.  Or maybe that's just me, but it's very inviting and comfortable.  The sink kind of steals the show, but there is lots to see here too.  I could spend hours in there!

But that would be rude so of course I didn't.  Actually I don't think I could have anyway because at least one lady came in either specifically to see it and a lengthy conversation was had right there in the bathroom and hallway about it.  It's that kind of place.

Even the old rusty trowels are well loved here.  This one sits in the basket of the bicycle sink that's not going anywhere.  But it did once....this is the kind of house that makes you wonder where it went when it could still go.  Or maybe it's a reproduction.  I don't know the difference, and that's part of the charm.  You should stop by and check it out.  Let it cast it's spell on you.  It's that kind of place.

You can find the website here, oh!  and a menu!!!  :D

You will be very happy you did, or my name's not Melinda Moss.  Heart and Home Tea Room