a ring holder that gives me memories

When me and the boys go thrifting at a nearby shop, I always end up with something!  

There is never leaving empty handed...it's a bad habit, I know.

But I came upon this ceramic jewelry holder that reminded me SO much of my grandmother, who lives in Mexico. And I've found out, I miss her dearly. Like unbelievably too much. I find myself just daydreaming about being there at her house, with my 100 relatives all eating carne asada and enjoying each others company.

Anyway, she has this bureau as tall as her. And on it, she her lotions, her perfumes, some pictures, and cute little ceramic figurines from 20 years ago. Every time I visit, I always stare at her never-changing collection. 

I realized also that I don't have anything that reminds me of her. I mean, I have my Mexican memorabilia that reminds me of my home in Mexico, sure. But nothing that is hers, or that visually reminds me of her.

So when I came upon this jewelry holder at the thrift store, it just felt like I had to get it for some reason. I didn't know it then, but now I understand. It's like a subconscious thing I guess.

My sister would have highly disapproved of such thing because it has flowers on it. But I quite like it. A lot. Actually. 

I decided that it would be best to re-vamp it. Give it the Lynet make-over. And I didn't take a before pictures, don't ask me why. I didn't initially wanted to post about this, but after I figured out why I had fixated so much on this thing, I just had to. 

Now, I have something that physically reminds me of her. Even if it didn't directly come from her, I have something that makes me think of her. Something that's tangible and isn't just a memory or a picture. 

Clockwise: 

\ \ My grandmother, we call her Mami Tola because her real name is Eustolia, and my brother, Carl / / 

\ \ My grandmother in the city (year unknown) / / 

\ \ My sister Caren and I with our grandmother in the early 2000's (my hair is pink!) / / 

\ \ And my grandmother and my father when he was in his teens (gosh they're beautiful!) / / 

This is the only picture of her and my son, Andrew at 14 months, her 2nd great-grandchild.

The first time and the only time they've ever met. She's never met Jonah, my second. 

She always has and always will mean everything to us. I can't wait to see her again! 

PS. And the yellow roses were from my lover. 

LINKING UP TO LEARN.CREATE.LOVE

i don't want you to grow up

I know that when he's older, he won't want to cuddle with me anymore. I know that.

Yet, I find myself denying him when he asks me to lay down with him.

He'll ask, "you wanna lay down with me, Mom?"

No baby, Mommy's got stuff to do and I shut the door.

An hour later, I check in on him and he's fast asleep.

I just want to remember that he was my cuddle bug. That he would rub my arm to the point of feeling like my skin went raw while he sucked down his milk from his sippy cup. That his tiny little feet overheat under the covers. That his lips, while sleeping, are always open and his little tiny baby teeth are exposed. 

That those blue, beautiful eyes are what made us all fall in love with him when he first came into this world.

The way he totally captivates my attention when he says little things I never knew a little person could say.

I love the way his nose is so rounded, yet mine is sharp. 

I love his lips, his little peach fuzz, his widow's peak, his tiny little ears...his fake laugh. I'm so in love with him, I don't know what I would do without him. He grabs my face and pulls it towards him and he says, "Mom, you beauuttiiful," when I don't feel an ounce of beauty. 

But every day, I realize he's growing. His birthday is coming up. He's not going to stay little. And I can't remember things anymore. I don't want to forget anything about Andrew, or Jonah, or Gary. 

I want to remember how his toes were little and hair free. I want to remember that he wanted me all the time. How he would smile at me and how cute his little freckles were popping up all over the place. How he tells me, "Mom, I wanna kiss your face," and plants smushy, slobbery sugars all over it.

How every time I look over at him and think, he needs a little trim around his ears. 

Or I wonder if those eyelashes will ever make girls go crazy for him.

And then I think about girls...I think about how I'll be replaced with them come the tween/teen years and how I won't be asked to cuddle with him when he goes to bed. Or how I won't be needed to soothe him with my arm. How I won't be able to give him goose bumps with the tips of my fingers along his back. 

How do I retain those moments, those feelings, with my terrible memory? 

How can I remember things like that? This fear is very realistic. And it keeps growing.

I guess that's why I love snapping pictures so much. For my memory's sake. 

For the sake of my children's children. For the sake of this blog. 

I love you, baby boy.

last days

So as May ends, it's just a bittersweet reminder that our home will no longer be ours. I know it's not much of a house---it's a duplex, it's worn, it's old, it's crusty--but it was our first home as a family and I feel the tears coming on about it. 

I gave birth in it. I danced to LMFAO's Party Rock in my underwear in it. I washed a thousand dishes in it. I enjoyed plenty of nice meals with a beer outside while I watched the kids play in their blue pool. 

I never once thought bad about this home, never wanted to move out of this home. Sure the carpet sucks and the ceiling is low, but I have that sense that it belongs to me and my family and that's why I feel so attached to it. 

It's almost quitting time folks. Time to pack up every single one of our belongings and try to dispose of uncompleted and broken toy sets. Time to start new. 

All the pictures that I've taken in this house will hopefully give the boys the feeling I get when I see the pictures my parents took in their first home. The feeling of vaguely familiar. The feeling of comfort. 

The next two weeks will be jam packed with dirty trapos and boxes. 

The next month will be full of adventures as we seek a new place to live northeast of Houston.

The next year will probably be as memorable as these past two and a half years, if not more so.

Cheers!

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