Archives for June 2006

I have mentioned before that my left hand is Eden’s “Liddo Spido”. Paul is the one who started this game of fancy by pretending that his giant hand was a Daddy Long Legs. They had a little game where he would creep around and try and tickle her and she would smack him back with her hand.

You’re all thinking, that’s great, encourage the Bean to hit. I did too.

Anyway, it is a favorite little game of theirs that is limited only by Paul’s absence. She started finding replacements. I supply her “Liddo Spido” and Christopher offers, “Peep” and “Grofer”. Lydia has somehow avoided this game. The voice Christopher uses for Peep is migraine inducing, but as it bring joy to everyone but me…and Paul – anyone over the age of ten – I choose to breathe deeply and let the merriment continue.

Eden recognizes that her menagerie of arachnids moonlight as hands and, as such, are sometimes compelled to interrupt her play. This morning she was having a good time with “Daddy Lon Legs” and “Big Brudda Spido”, Paul’s other hand, when he took them off to finish up his morning routine.

Beanie continued the conversation, “Daddy Lon Legs, Big Brudda! I know you are helping Daddy bruss his teess, but soon we will play a game. OK?”

Paul has separate voices for each spider and wasn’t able to answer until he had rinsed and wiped his mouth. His spiders both assured her they would love to play a game with her but needed to go to work with her dad.

She bent over with her hands on her knees to address them, “When you come home I will get out my toys for you and we will play a game. Awwight?” Then she kissed them goodbye and sent them on their way.

Later she said in the sweetest little voice, “I cann wait fo my brudda spidos to come back.”

It’s been a quiet day, here, at our house.

Let’s just look at that sentence and give it some space.

The kids played outside while I putzed around the yard this morning, my mom and one of my aunts came for a short visit around noon, then after lunch I met Paul at his office and he took the kids for a treat while I worked out. Coming home the storm clouds were gathering so I ran around and picked up all the things that needed to be put away: books, tools, cushions, toys and wheelbarrows.

It was an excellent storm.

The kids watched it while playing pioneers. Lydia dressed up in a black dress and wore an apron. Eden put on her Koala costume. Perhaps they were Australian pioneers. There was a brief bit of trouble when I needed to remove a rifle from Christopher because he shot Eden. The next thing I knew Lydia was trying to set it above a portrait. As I was about to question her I realized she was just feathering her pioneer nest. I recommended the mantel. They played quietly and then read while I looked through garden books.

The koala became a little tired so I layed her down on my bed and then cuddled beside her reading a novel. She was soon asleep. The window was open and a cool breeze gently blew on us. It would have been perfect if I had showered after my workout so that I could have crawled under the covers. Christopher and Lydia came in at different times to check on us and to admire Eden’s sweetness.

Neither of them could resist kissing her.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/06/956/

1. I am covered with mosquitoe bites, having spent the morning and afternoon working in my garden.

2. I really like to garden, especially on a small scale. Tell me why I bought a home with a shade border that is 80 x 6?

3. That is just one of my dozens of beds. Today, with the help of a friend and a ton of new plants, this area is being tamed and lovelied.

“I put Sassy Talking on da cwaaawss,” Eden said while I combed her hair.

She was holding her stuffed puppy who has gone by the names: Shovel, Peanut, Poodle, Coffee Man and Pink House. We thought this strange until we remembered that this is coming from a little girl who answers to: Eden, Beanie, Beansie, Pretty, Baby Cakes, Cakie and Cakie Doo – to name just a few. I assumed “Sassy Talking” was her puppy’s newest sobriquet.

“Where was the cross?” I asked.

“Dey were in da church!” This was said with indignation.

“You put your puppy on the cross in the church?”

“No I put Sassy Talking on da cwaawss!”

And then I realized she said “they” and something clicked.

“Are you talking about when we nailed things to the crosses?”

She nodded, smiling.

On Ash Wednesday there were three humble crosses of 2×4’s placed at the front of our sanctuary. Small pieces of paper and pencils were on every chair. We were invited to write our sins on the papers and then come up and nail them to one of the crosses. I had spoken with the children before we came so we had all been thinking about what God was asking us to surrender.

When it was time we all wrote busily. I asked Eden if she wanted me to write something for her but she was content to clutch her crumpled paper. Our family was one of the first to go. A couple of hammers were lying on the floor as was a box of nails. Paul and Lydia went first. He pounded his near the top and she somewhere in the lower half. They moved on to receive their ashes together. This left me with Eden, Christopher and all our sins. Eden wanted to be held, which I found to be impossible. She clutched my leg while I tried to hold the nail to my paper and hammer and somehow hold her paper too. The nail dropped and with it my sins. Picking them up Eden’s paper fell. I left it and concentrated on getting my paper nailed. All this time Christopher was working on his own. Once mine was up I helped him secure his and then we both got Eden’s up. By this time there was a lengthy line behind us. Watching our shenanigans an elder came over and began to hand people nails. Another came to help with the hammer.

We shuffled over to receive our ashes which Eden politely refused until we had walked away and were almost to our seats. “I want da crawuss.” She whispered.

Well, Sister, you need it, I thought. And so we went back made our way through the line and she bowed her head and looked through her thick eyelashes while the cross of ashes was gently placed.

The sound of pounding echoed through the sanctuary and soon the crosses began to be covered. When everyone had taken their turn our pastor briefly spoke, a small orchestra played, we sang some songs and prayed and then it was done.

Walking up the aisle I turned to look back at the crosses. Volunteers were already stripping off the papers and throwing them in the trash, preparing the crosses for storage. Something in me protested. Couldn’t they leave them for a moment? And then I knew, this is the way it is: we nails our sins to the cross, He does, really, and then they are forgiven and immediately stripped away.

“So you laid Sassy Talking on the cross?”

“Yes.”

“And God forgave you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have to do that anymore?”

“Thass wight.”

Indeed.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/06/958/

“This is an unopened bag! That’s a good thing, because Mama deserves a fresh cup of coffee.”

That would be my husband rejoicing.

I wish I could say that him referring to me as Mama when the children are not around is an aberration. I wish I could say that there is not a corresponding “Daddy” of mine for every “Mama” of his, but that would be lying.

We certainly didn’t see ourselves here long long ago when we first began to procreate. Around that time met a couple in their fifties. We were still in our twenties. She called him Daddy and he called her Mother and Paul and I thought, you have got to be kidding me. We were on the eve of the 21st century and yet these two were in the dark ages. Can you imagine?

And then God gave us a profoundly deaf child. He could hear some and in order to help him follow conversations I began to call Paul Daddy when Christopher was present and Paul began to refer to me as Mama. It started harmlessly enough. We wanted to support our little boy as he was working to learn his own name, not to mention, ours.

The little boy is now ten and could tell you my first, middle, maiden and last names without a problem, yet there is no end in sight to the Hillbilly hierarchy of names Paul and I have established.

And so we take it one day at a time, one incident at a time, really, “Please call me Alison,” I ask with a weary tone but then ten minutes later I am calling him Daddy.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/06/959/