fried chicken and balloons

The past six years or so the kids and I have released balloons on my mom’s birthday.  I started it in a year where I had literally survived the impossible and was looking for all of the ways to make memories and find joy.  She was joy so we celebrate her birthday, because from basically since birth my Martha Kate has loved a birthday.  That first year, we were at the beach with friends and I woke up early and drove to the Publix to buy donuts for the kids and bought two balloons - one pink and one green - their favorite colors. We walked to the beach and released them together and I told her how she loved the beach, then we ate donuts - with sprinkles.  They were so little, but they got it, at least partially.  And it stuck.  

We always pick a spot that she would have loved or that she did love - I usually let them pick, actually because it makes them ask questions and helps me tell stories.  Today she would be seventy.  I picked our spot this year - the bank of the Mississippi River, the bridge in the background.  We started at Dollar Tree and they picked their balloons - Kate picked a red cupcake one, because Nana liked red.  They got junk candy too - Air Heads, gummy Life Savers, and Rips, and we shared it all on the way.  I drove them through KFC and we had a picnic under a shade tree, something we did as kids.  I even drove through the same KFC on Danny Thomas where we still laugh about the girl in the drive through saying, “creamandshugga with your coffee?” I’m not sure why that was so funny but we repeated that over and over throughout the years.  Mama was always up for a cup of coffee, I guess even in the KFC drive thru.  She was also always up for packing sandwiches in the car for some roadside picnic so I’m assuming the day we drove through KFC was something special.  

Bailey was thrilled at the thought of fried chicken for lunch - I can’t keep him full these days and both of them said they’d never had KFC so I clearly have failed as a mother in that category.  We ordered it all - mashed potatoes, biscuits, macaroni and cheese, and even a Dr. Pepper.  To redeem myself slightly, we have been to Popeye’s a time or two.  I also drug them down to Mud Island and we took a few steps in the Riverwalk just for old time’s sake.  I’ve always been fascinated with the way it’s graded levels of concrete simulate the levels of the river and the way you can walk through it, not without cutting your feet on the jagged concrete as the river narrows, but the tiny bridges and replicas are a real treasure.  I had hoped they could ride the monorail but it seems it’s now closed and we were left with the walking which Bailey truly only did because he knew I wanted to go - Memphis ain’t what it used to be.  We finished our day with popsicles and then Kate insisted on a cupcake cookie for the dog whose birthday was last week, but I figured my mama would get a real kick out of an actual dog cookie complete with icing.     

Mama used to go on field trips there at the end of the summer with her kindergarten campers.  It was nothing for her to get a couple buses and haul sweaty children a couple hours in the blazing heat to wade in the model of the Mississippi.  She wanted those kids to be exposed to things in the world and she was sure gonna do her part to make that happen.  I went a time or two on those field trips and she earned all matter of sainthood for the hot bus, hot kids, and wet clothes after they went swimming fully clothed in the deeper part of the fake Mississippi River.  At the end of the day she always said, “oh, we had the best time! It was so much fun!” 

The kids know this is my day and they are really pretty ok with whatever I throw at them.  It was hot, no doubt, and it was not without complaining, but honestly there was very minimal - only one two head locks and elbowing incidents.

I started my morning with a run and talked to her as I often do but today I thought about what I would want her to know.  So here’s a few things:

I am fine.  

I mean, I generally am most days but some days I’m not.  Those are the days that I just mostly avoid the public and remember that there’s a tomorrow.  You just wouldn’t even believe all that has come our way but just like you, I’ve learned to carry on, take one day at a time, and live the days I’ve got with purpose.  In your words, “it’s just been one thing after another” and I can hear you just shaking your head saying, “bless your heart.”  I had some really nice plans for how life would look for us but it doesn’t look at all the way I thought.  I did take your advice on remembering that “this is the day that the Lord has made” and Phillipians 4:13.  What I mean by fine is that I am loved, I am taken care of and I know how to love and take care of people because of the ways I watched you all of my life.  Fundamentally, I’ve decided that if you have the right people and the right amount of love, you are fine, because God takes care of the rest.  And, a pound cake with a cup of coffee doesn’t hurt either.  

I can cook pretty decently.  

Now, I don’t get up at five in the morning to fix Sunday dinner like you did - that is still a wonder to me because the honest truth is I can hardly get us all dressed and out the door on time.   We do get to church though, because I know that’s important to you, and we all serve too.  But, I can fry okra, make cornbread, and I have perfected your brown rice and banana bread recipes.  Kate and I made both this week and shared with friends.  I cannot get those loaf pans out and flour them without hearing your wedding ring cling on the side of the pan.  I could be in my room asleep and hear that sound and know we were about to have banana bread for breakfast.  Also, it’s really cake, so I’m going to give you extra credit for throwing a banana in a cake and calling it breakfast.  Well played, Mama. 

I love plants and it’s your fault.  

I spent the best part of the spring digging up Hosta and moving them around the yard.  I moved my irises too and hope they bloom next year.  Spring is my favorite seasona and I walk around the yard watching stuff pop through the ground, almost giddy, and sometimes surprised that stuff actually came back.  I remember you telling me, “look, my soandso actually came back this year” and I say the exact thing to my poor children.  I still have the fern from your yard that you made Daddy stop on the side of the road and dig up because it would “look so good in your flowerbed.”  It looks better than ever.  I also have your coneflowers and your peony and usually plant some vegetables for Bailey although this year it didn’t happen.  I will buy the worst looking thing at Lowe’s and see if I can make it healthy and usually it works out.  You taught me to never give up on plants even if they looked like “goners” and I’ll have you know that those half dead azaleas I threw over the fence that year are also thriving.  I’ll admit that I can’t grow petunias to save my life, though.  As a matter of fact, when I finish this, I’m going to go put the half-dead ones on my patio out of their misery because in your words, “they’re pitiful.” 

My girl.  Well, she’s a lot like you.  

And, well, me because we are so much the same.  I realized this very day that when you were my exact age, I was her exact age and that is so special.  She got her daddy’s musical talent and Daddy’s ability to sing thank goodness but she laughs when I tell her how I used to tell you to please stop singing.  She is crafty and creative and her heart is entirely too big for her body.  She outwardly expresses her love so well.  She wants to help and do everything and I think of how patient you were with me when I did the same.  She helps me cook, shop, and will move through a shopping list faster than lightening.  She inherited my sweet tooth, prefers to dip most things in chocolate, and would totally have been all in on your insistence that you need a cookie anytime your’e at the mall so I take her to the cookie store whenever we are there.  She has paper everywhere, little scraps that I have to dig out of the carpet and I spent last week pulling junk out of her closet while she was at camp like you used to do for me.  I also had to Magic Eraser all of the paint off of her craft table but I know you did the same, except it was Windex or something because unfortunately Magic Erasers didn’t exist.  She loves for me to tell stories about you and about when I was little.  She also loves shoes - especially fancy ones, and babies, and giving anything to anybody.  She makes us all gifts for every holiday.  She is just as busy as she was as a baby - still the tiniest and freest little spirit that dances and sings and makes up elaborate stories.  But, she’s got so much good sense and that’s going to take her far.  I told her the other day how you let me rearrange furniture in my room all the time and you even helped me paint it that dark blue color and she said, “hey, why can’t I?” I told her you were nicer than me.  She also has a knack for saying exactly what she thinks - I have no idea where she gets that.  I love her for all that she is.

My boy.  He’s most complex and hilarious kid.  

He is wise beyond his years and even wiser after this year.  You would be amazed and proud at who he is.  He has the kindest soul and old people and little kids are drawn to him.  He never forgets anything.  Like anything.  Which has been both good and bad.  He’s now at the age where I can have regular conversations with him about regular things and I love it.  He knows so much and always has just like you suspected.  I tell him that you were one of the only people to really understand him when he was little and frustrated that things didn’t go the way he wanted.  You seemed to solve it all with a Target Icee, popcorn, and a matchbox car and he will still tell me exactly which ones you bought for him.  He turned his stubborn into brave this year and I couldn’t solve anything with an Icee if I’d wanted to.  He is also creative although won’t show it all the time but when he does make something it’s great and I can tell he sees things differently.  He still loves animals and they love him too - fish, bats, reptiles, bugs, you name it.  And I’ve more than once caught a frog just so I could show him.  He will also kill a bug for me now so that’s a bonus.  I still hate bugs and so does Kate - she was crying the other day because of a bug and I remember when I did that.  There’s not a dog on earth that isn’t drawn to him and that he doesn’t love.  He is quiet a lot, especially when he’s thinking, but so content in his quiet just like I am.  But, boy can he ask some questions.  Sometimes I have to google.  He still has his eyebrows furrowed at new people and doesn’t trust anybody until they give him a reason to.  He observes and then he says the most spot on and truest thing in three or four words.  Some people use a lot of words and he uses very few to say a lot.  He’s also very protective of his sister and has spent most of her life yelling at her for wandering off and yelling at me for not watching her but I always know where she is.  The general public I’m sure enjoys him yelling, “you lost her again.”  Just in case she needs another parent, he’s got that covered.  I love him for all that he is. 

Stephen Jessop is as good of a catch as you thought.  

His yard always looks as good as it ever did and maybe even better.  Every time you pulled in our driveway you would say, “Stephen, your yard sure looks good.”  A well kept yard earned a gold star in one’s heavenly crown according to you.  And, although he has a little more than a small obsession with grass and sod, it’s all with good intent.  He has killed my Creeping Jenny this year with his mosquito spray but I forgive him as he was just trying to protect us from bugs.  And besides it will most likely grow back.  He always does the right thing.  He is the perfect persistent to my stubborn, and he has never and I mean never, given up on me.  He practices what he preaches and has prayed like no other for my survival and the survival of our son.  There’s not a soul who he’s met that doesn’t like him because you can’t not like him.  I say that he’s the nicest person on the planet and I mean it.  He had no idea what he was getting into that day that Daddy handed me off to him but he’s doing better than good at what he is supposed to do.  I love him for all that he is.  

Decorating magazines are still in (for me at least).  

There are a lot of things on the internet these days.  I can’t help but think of you when I pull up Pinterest and how that would have blown your mind.  There are a zillion things about one thing and a zillion ways to find the right paint color and how it would look on a wall but nothing compares to turning the pages in a good Southern Living or Better Homes and Gardens.  I still love the pictures and to feel the pages as I turn them.  I tear out recipes too - Daddy started sending me some from the Tupelo paper recently and I cut out the good ones and make them.  Also, you need to know that you were way ahead of the game on the farmhouse look and you would just love the way Joanna Gaines has taken front porches and farmhouse to a new level.  You would think that she’s the cutest thing ever, because she is.  

People may be crazy but they are generally good.  

You told me a lot that people were crazy “as Betsy Bugs” and you are right.  I quit watching the news and certainly don’t read the paper because the world is a little off it’s rocker these days.  But, generally people are so good.  You would love our friends because of the way they love us so well.  They would all have gotten a thousand hand written notes and loaves of banana bread by now.  I’ve done the best I can to thank them but thank you will never be enough.  

We value their education.  

We chose good schools and have great teachers for our kids. I know this was important to you.  I’ve got two completely different learning styles going on over here so it’s been interesting.  You should hear your granddaughter reason her way through some of her answers.  But, they’ve taught me that there’s more than one right way to do something.  I do encourage them to figure things out before I help them but I’ve spent hours at the kitchen table with both of them and will continue to do so.  We get ice cream on hard days and donuts on other hard days, because we made it.  We’ve done all the projects and glued on all the things to all the poster board.  I also advocate for them when it’s appropriate and I’m working hard on teaching them to advocate for themselves.  I tell them they can do anything, just like you did for us.  

The older I get the more you I am.  

Or maybe it’s the older I get the more I notice it, but either way, it’s just fine.  I have your exact hands - I did swear off the hand dryers at Target after I noticed my skin blowing into a puddle at my wrist the other day.  I like coffee and it’s your fault - thanks again for that coffee pot you left at my apartment in college. (You’d be amazed by the Keurig but then go back to brewing it like me because you drink to much of it for that tiny pod).  I remind my kids to brush their teeth and their hair a thousand times a day and it’s your fault, but nobody’s going out of the house like that.  I do pick my battles like you told me which means I have had to turn a blind eye to her outfits and a deaf ear to his mouth a few times.  I get up and get ready for the day, just like you did - I can’t say I always have on makeup, or a cute matching skirt and top combination like you, but I do have lipstick and earrings.  And now I have a ten year old who is telling me whether or not what I have on is acceptable.  I teach them to say thank you and write thank you notes, even though this year that went a little south. I vacuum nearly every day, separate my laundry like it’s a paying job, and sometimes I even scrub their tennis shoes with a toothbrush, and it’s your fault.  I also make the beds everyday, clean the kitchen every night, and I used to iron the pillowcases but I let that go.  I let a lot go, actually, and I try not to miss a thing that these two wonders of mine are doing.  I let them make messes and mistakes and eat ice cream before bed, and figure out friend stuff on their own, and make choices, and trade structure and schedule for freedom and imagination when I can.  And we laugh.  We laugh so much because we all find so much so funny, and the older we all get and the more life throws at us, the funnier we all think we are and the better laughter feels.  And we pray.  A lot.  We ask for and give praise for everything under the sun but mostly them and us.  And, I hold them and hug them and love them and kiss them goodnight, too.  And when they walk out the door I tell them, "do the best that you can," because that's what you told me.  

And when all that doesn’t work, I ask myself, “What would Martha do?”  

So, Happy 70th Birthday!  We sent balloons to you in the sky, but we know you’re really right here.  I hope I make half the mark on this earth as you ever did. 

Love, 

Kimbo