One of the greatest compliments a child could give to their mother is taking a big whiff of you and then saying "Mommy, you always smell so good." I know this might sound weird but, it's true. If you think about it, you can almost smell all of your memories. Fond or not. I know exactly what my mom smells like. I remember exactly how my grandmother's crawfish etoufee smelled (that I have tried without success to duplicate more than once). I can recall the smell of the homes of each one of my family members and friends.
Who doesn't love the smell of a brand new baby? The emotions associated with that 'new baby' smell is happiness and excitement. (Ty, your comments are not welcome here.) I believe that scents can be associated with almost every emotion. When you're feeling happy, chances are you'll remember what scents you smelled when you were happiest. Such as Thanksgiving dinner and being surrounded by family and friends. The onions and garlic, the turkey...you get the idea.
Such a simple phrase may seem so meaningless. But it's not. To me, it means that she feels safe. That my scent is comfort and warmth. Happiness and contentment. That she loves me so much that she wants to take in every last drop of me right down to the smell. I must say that it makes me feel like I'm doing something right.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I'm Leaving!
Last night, I was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess that seems to multiply anytime I use the kitchen. I was wiping down my stand mixer when Tommy walks into the kitchen sporting only a diaper and my car keys and says, "Bye Mommy! I'm leaving!" I said, "Where are you going?" stifling my laughter. He said "Work." Of course, I didn't want him to leave (not that he could drive off on a whim anyway) so I was able to distract him with a cinnamon roll. I love the way they try an imitate us. It surely is the greatest form of admiration.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Much ado about a mess...
Monday, I began the process of baking for the wedding that I'm making a cake for this coming Saturday. I'd already made one layer and wanted to work on the strawberry buttercream. Making this recipe is kind of involved. It requires pureeing a pint of strawberries with 2 tablespoons of sugar and then cooking it over low heat until it is reduced to 1/4 cup of syrup. While this was cooking, I started putting the ingredients together for the next cake layer. I didn't feel that the strawberry reduction needed constant supervision as it was on low and I was checking it every few minutes. I had my back to the stove while I was mixing the wet ingredients for the cake with my hand mixer. Ty was putting away the dishes when he glanced over in my direction and calmly said "You're making a mess." I looked down to notice that not only was I NOT making a mess, I had done an unusually good job of keeping all of the ingredients in the mixing bowl. So I looked up at him and said "What mess?". His non verbal response was to chin point to the stove where my strawberry puree was supposed to be slowly reducing. "OH NO!" I yelled. It was boiling over. Darn it! So in an irritated tone I said "Why didn't you say so?!?". He said "I did. I told you that you were making a mess.". Then the argument ensued. I said "Why do you have to make it so difficult?" After complaining about the way he chose to direct my attention to the mess he said "It's 6 o'clock, I'm not talking to you till 6 thirty."
Fine. I figured I needed time to cool off anyway.
Our friends asked us if we wanted to go out for dinner at Chili's. On the way there the clock in the car changed from 6:29 to 6:30. The first thing he asks me is "What are you playing?". I was typing out my thoughts on my phone in the notepad app. I answered "I'm not playing anything.". He obviously thought I was playing a game on my phone. Anyway, I apologized for snapping at him and said "I am not excusing the way I reacted to your statement. But, sometimes I get frustrated in the way you say things in that it makes it so incredibly difficult to talk to you."
He replies with "What should I have said?". I answer "You could've said, 'Your pot is boiling over.'". He says "I didn't see that it was boiling. I saw that you were making a mess.". Then I say, "Or you could've said 'Your pot is bubbling over.'" He says "I didn't see any bubbles. I saw that you were making a mess."
Arrrrgggghhh! Do you see how he makes me work for the pleasure of having a conversation with him? Then I finally say, "You could've said 'Your pot on the stove is making a mess.'You could've been more specific."
As I type this out the whole thing seems silly. I love him and don't want him to change his ways just because I don't understand why he does it or because they frustrate me. But, for goodness sakes, sometimes it DOES get frustrating. This is just one example of how he makes me work for it. I'm not exactly sure why but, damn it, I sure do love him.
By the way, everything was fine. No one stayed angry. He went to see the new Transformers movie with his Nerd Herd last night...AT MIDNIGHT. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well. I never do when he's gone.
DISCLAIMER: This exchange of events is reported from my memory only. Other parties involved were not available to give their statement of accounts. Accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
Fine. I figured I needed time to cool off anyway.
Our friends asked us if we wanted to go out for dinner at Chili's. On the way there the clock in the car changed from 6:29 to 6:30. The first thing he asks me is "What are you playing?". I was typing out my thoughts on my phone in the notepad app. I answered "I'm not playing anything.". He obviously thought I was playing a game on my phone. Anyway, I apologized for snapping at him and said "I am not excusing the way I reacted to your statement. But, sometimes I get frustrated in the way you say things in that it makes it so incredibly difficult to talk to you."
He replies with "What should I have said?". I answer "You could've said, 'Your pot is boiling over.'". He says "I didn't see that it was boiling. I saw that you were making a mess.". Then I say, "Or you could've said 'Your pot is bubbling over.'" He says "I didn't see any bubbles. I saw that you were making a mess."
Arrrrgggghhh! Do you see how he makes me work for the pleasure of having a conversation with him? Then I finally say, "You could've said 'Your pot on the stove is making a mess.'You could've been more specific."
As I type this out the whole thing seems silly. I love him and don't want him to change his ways just because I don't understand why he does it or because they frustrate me. But, for goodness sakes, sometimes it DOES get frustrating. This is just one example of how he makes me work for it. I'm not exactly sure why but, damn it, I sure do love him.
By the way, everything was fine. No one stayed angry. He went to see the new Transformers movie with his Nerd Herd last night...AT MIDNIGHT. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well. I never do when he's gone.
DISCLAIMER: This exchange of events is reported from my memory only. Other parties involved were not available to give their statement of accounts. Accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
Friday, December 19, 2008
My Little Blonde Angel
I'm sure that you've noticed that Emma gets alot of airtime on my blog. As usual Tommy gets the back burner. I guess I feel a little guilty for not ever writing about just him. So here goes.
He is so sweet. He hates to go to bed and cries (yelling MAMA! for up to half an hour) every night. He even throws his board books out of his bed (they make a loud thud on the hard-wood floor that sounds like he fell out of the crib) hoping that this will make me come back to him. He is always happy to see me and loves to give hugs. He lets me eat up his legs. Those scrumptious little chubby legs. He is starting to talk more every day. He loves to eat. Anything, anytime. He loves bathtime and when I say 'Come on Tommy, it's time to take a bath.' he throws his hands up in the air and yells his version of 'BATHTIME!'. He loves lotion on his belly and can never resist tasting it. Every time. Even thought he knows it's tastes yucky, he has to put his lotion covered hand in his mouth. It must be laced with some addiction inducing drug. We read books and talk every night before bed. After we read, I turn him around on my lap to face me and I ask him about his day. He babbles on and on in a language only he can understand. I nod and say 'Did you have fun?' and he enthusiastically nods a big wide eyed 'Yes'. Then he tells me something about a ball and Daddy. I assume he is saying that he played ball with Daddy. I don't really care what he is saying anyway, I just love watching him talk. Then we say goodnight, give kisses and then he puts his head on my shoulder and sings. Who knows what song but I love it. Only one word can describe the way I feel about him. LOVE. Totally, completely, utterly, absolutely, perfectly in LOVE.
He is so sweet. He hates to go to bed and cries (yelling MAMA! for up to half an hour) every night. He even throws his board books out of his bed (they make a loud thud on the hard-wood floor that sounds like he fell out of the crib) hoping that this will make me come back to him. He is always happy to see me and loves to give hugs. He lets me eat up his legs. Those scrumptious little chubby legs. He is starting to talk more every day. He loves to eat. Anything, anytime. He loves bathtime and when I say 'Come on Tommy, it's time to take a bath.' he throws his hands up in the air and yells his version of 'BATHTIME!'. He loves lotion on his belly and can never resist tasting it. Every time. Even thought he knows it's tastes yucky, he has to put his lotion covered hand in his mouth. It must be laced with some addiction inducing drug. We read books and talk every night before bed. After we read, I turn him around on my lap to face me and I ask him about his day. He babbles on and on in a language only he can understand. I nod and say 'Did you have fun?' and he enthusiastically nods a big wide eyed 'Yes'. Then he tells me something about a ball and Daddy. I assume he is saying that he played ball with Daddy. I don't really care what he is saying anyway, I just love watching him talk. Then we say goodnight, give kisses and then he puts his head on my shoulder and sings. Who knows what song but I love it. Only one word can describe the way I feel about him. LOVE. Totally, completely, utterly, absolutely, perfectly in LOVE.
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