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Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Preserving Memories

I'm not sure why, but I've been on a canning kick lately.  It's something my grandma taught me when I was a little girl.  The last month of summer always meant jars and hot water baths and that satisfying little "pop".  It also meant peeling and chopping the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetables they grew.  My grandma's gardens were ENORMOUS!!!  Or, at least they seemed to reach into forever to my little eyes.

Perhaps, part of my canning kick has been due to a desire for those simpler days.  Days when my biggest concern was how many peaches I could eat before Grandma shooed me out of the orchard, or how many hummingbirds I could catch.  Oh yes, I was quite the hummer catcher. Built cages for them and everything.  

Perhaps the another cause for my kick are my winter memories - opening one of those jars I worked so hard on, smelling and tasting a bit of summer during the dreary cold months.  

No matter the cause, my family has certainly not been complaining about my latest craze.  I've put up more jars of jam than I care to count at the moment - apricot, apricot berry, peach, peach berry, and pear berry.  Almost all of the fruit came from either friends' trees or local orchards.  Their over abundance became my blessing.  

I looked online for recipes, then quickly realized that I was just going to do what Grandma did - throw it all in a pot, then add ingredients until it tasted good.



Each jar that "pops" reminds me of those treasured days with my grandma - days that seemed so ordinary then but are precious now.  I pray my girls have lots of those days to treasure when they're my age.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

When your heart stops

We all have those moments.

Moments when your heart leaps into your throat and your breathing stops.

Moments where nothing else matters.

Moments that give you tunnel vision.

Mine was yesterday morning, when I heard her scream.

The scream that isn't caused by a pestering sister, but rather a sudden and terrifying pain.

Those are the moments in which your mama heart stops.

I ran into the room to find my Madi girl on the ground, a huge tv on the floor next to her.  I had asked her to put something away in the closet, not remembering that the tv on the rolling cart was in the front of the closet.  She grabbed the cart to move it out of the way, the tv lost its balance on the cart and fell over.  It hit her forehead, chest, and shoulder on its way to the ground.  

There is nothing like the fear and adrenaline that rushes through a mother's body when her baby is hurt.  

The what-ifs, I-should-haves, and whys course through your mind.  And all you can think about is making sure your baby is ok.

This is one of those moments you are so grateful for all the hours your husband has spent in coaching clinics.  A call to him and a call to our pediatrician's nurse confirmed that we were, yet again, going to get to visit our favorite ER nurses.  

An hour later, we left the ER with a mild concussion and chest and shoulder bruises.  She's got a raging headache, sore body, and yucky tummy.  She's mellower than she's EVER been in her life.  But she'll be ok.  

And my heart rate is slowly returning to normal.  

Although I'm not sure the tv will ever be the same.