She's Granulated

Yesiree! Our baby girl has granulated, as my mother likes to say, and now has her Masters degree in Biotechnology. We trekked down to Baltimore today for the graduation ceremony at Johns Hopkins University and it was nip or tuck whether or not the rain, snow, or graduation would come first. Luckily the weather cooperated begrudgingly, freezing us all in the process but at least leaving us dry to enjoy the ceremony.

Laura's boyfriend, Jason, was kind enough to grab a blanket out of his car for my mother and she set a new standard for fashion while staying warm. I told her she looked like a cross between Cousin It and a Bolivian mountain woman. At least she won't get pneumonia.

Speaking of fashion, one of the graduates strolled across the stage wearing sparkly ruby red platform shoes, a red tulle scarf tied in a bow around her mortarboard hat, and her graduation stole draped casually over one shoulder.

"What did she graduate with, a Masters in the Absurd?" I whispered to Jason. I was almost right. She had a Masters in Writing.

"Mom", retorted Laura, "she's one of YOUR kind of people."

Ouch, guilty as charged. But I would have worn sensible shoes and probably sung a chorus or two from "There's No Business Like Show Business" as I came down the steps from the platform.

And then it was time to pose for the camera before heading off to Red Lobster for a bite to eat. OK, maybe more than one bite to eat but those cheddar biscuits are dee-lish! From there we headed over to Laura's apartment to offer our congratulations once more and play with Bailey, our grandcat before it was time to head back home.

Yes, it was a rewarding day. If I had an airhorn, I'd blow it for you, Laura. Good job! Working on an advanced degree while you work fulltime isn't easy but you did it AND you did it with distinction. We're proud of you, Honey!

A Mother's Day that Almost Wasn't

Yesterday I picked up my mother for our church's Mother/Daughter Banquet. She was in fine form.

"Are we performing?" she asked eagerly.

"Nope, we weren't asked this year," I replied. "Guess our fans will just have to be disappointed."

You see, the last few such banquets, Mom and I have come up with some silly little routines that we've performed to the general delight of the crowd. Mom can be quite a trooper. Like a horse that smells the hay in the barn and takes off at a gallop, when Mom gets a crowd laughing, she's like that horse with the bit between its teeth. There's no stopping her and she hates to sit down.

We joked together on our way in to church and sang old songs. I'd sing some of the stanzas and then Mom would finish them. "I'm sharp today!" she shouted and I couldn't have agreed more.

We had a great time at the banquet and Mom even got a lovely big pot of geraniums for being the oldest mother in attendance.

This morning, Mother's Day, I drove over to her assisted living facility to pick her up for church. My daughter, Laura, had arrived the evening before so we had decided to surprise Mom and just show up with Laura. Indeed Mom was surprised and delighted to see both her daughter and her grandaughter there to greet her. So off we all drove to church.

The service was flowing along smoothly but as we got to the closing hymn, I noticed that my mother was standing up and rocking slightly back and forth but not singing at all, despite the fact that it was a hymn that she would have known. Plus she just didn't look right. I leaned over and asked her if she felt OK. She looked at me strangely and made a gesture with her hand to her lips similar to what we used to do when we'd tell our kids to "zip their lips." I don't know if she was trying to tell me that her mouth felt strange or that she couldn't talk.

 At that point the hymn was over and we sat down but I noticed that her mouth was slack and hanging open. I leaned over again and asked if she felt ok. She just looked at me. I asked her to smile at me. Again, she just looked at me. I asked her to try to make her mouth into a smile at me. Again, nothing. Her eyes were just vacant. It was then I decided to go out into the foyer and call 911. I figured she was having a stroke.

 Laura stayed with her and another member in the pew in front of us who is a nurse came to sit next to Mom while I was out. As I called, Laura said she tried to get my mom to squeeze her hand but there was no response and spit just ran down Mom's chin. However, by the time the first responders arrived, the service was dismissing and she was already starting to snap out of it and quite confused as to why people were making such a fuss.


The paramedics decided that she should go to the ER to be checked out for what they thought might be a mini-stroke. By the time she arrived at the hospital, she was pretty much back to her old self. She was confused as to why she had to be at the hospital but kidding around with us and making faces at the doctor behind his back. I told her that most folks just nap through a service if they get bored. There was really no need for her to have tried to go out in a blaze of glory (or the back of an ambulance).

She has no recollection of anything that happened while this "attack" was happening. The ER doctor ordered an EKG, Catscan, and bloodwork, all of which came back perfect. He has concluded that she had a TIA, or mini-stroke. She was released to go back to the Woods and I am to call her doctor tomorrow to see if there are any additional tests she wants done. The ER doctor said that Mom is already on the right meds to try to preclude these episodes as best as one can. I'd appreciate your prayers for her. It certainly illustrates how quickly things can change in a period of 24 hours. And as always, it just goes to show that none of us know when we shall be called into the presence of our Maker. Keep the faith and give your mothers (those who still have them living) an extra hug or call tonight.

May Day Memories

I took Mom out for lunch the other day and as we walked down the hall on her floor, I couldn't help but notice all the lovely little paper cones filled with silk flowers hanging from the doorknobs of the individual doors.

"Mom, do you remember what we used to do on May Day?" I asked.

She put on the brakes of her walker and peered at me. "No, I don't believe I do. What did we do?"

"John and I used to pick flowers and then go up on the neighbors' porches and put them on the doormats, ring their doorbells, and then run like crazy to hide so they wouldn't see us," I answered.

"Oh, no. I don't think we did that on May Day. You've got the wrong holiday," she insisted.

"No, really. Don't you remember? We'd put the flowers down and then run so they wouldn't know who gave them the present. Sometimes we'd make little baskets up of woven construction paper and fill them with the flowers. Those we'd hang on their doorknobs. But we'd always ring their doorbells and then run away," I said.

"No, I'm sure you've got the wrong holiday. I think it was a different one," she answered.

"Well, which holiday do YOU think it was?"

"I think it must have been Halloween," she promptly responded.

"Halloween? No way. That's when you ring the doorbells and stay on their porches and then they give YOU a treat."

"Oh dear. I must have it mixed up," she said.

"Well, what did you do on May Day?" I asked her.

"I think we danced around a Maypole. I remember I was quite light on my feet."

"Was there a prize for the child that had the streamer at the very bottom of the Maypole? Or was there some special reward for all the children who danced around the Maypole?" I wondered aloud.

"No, we just went around the pole and danced. That's all we did," she stated.

It all sounded rather pagan to me. I doubted you would have found a good Baptist within a mile of a Maypole. But looking at my mom and seeing that twinkle in her eyes as she remembered a May long past, I suddenly found myself wishing that I could have been there, running barefoot through the prairie grass beside my mom, laughing and light on my feet.