This week’s word:  Mom

Mom: This is not a word that we felines use, except with the feline that conceived us, washed us and fed us, in those first few days of life.  My two-legger refers to herself as my Mom, which leads me to believe that Moms are the creatures that feed us and respond to our every whim.  I refer to my two-legger as my servant, so maybe Moms are that, only I get a feeling that there is something more. Really hate to admit it, for fear that it will get my two-legger to big for her bridges, but I do believe that something more is Love.

‘My two-legger is somewhat of an exceptional Mom, as she acts as a wonderful heating blanket every night (only someone should really tell her that to be a blanket, she shouldn’t move), she cuts me up the succulent green little tree-like things, and she’s always there for a hug when I need one.’

My 'Mom' in all of cuddliness. Someone just needs to tell the silly two-legger next to her to move on. Those are my hugs.

~FFR

She is the woman that instilled the confidence in me to speak my mind.

She is the woman that gave me the courage to stand by my convictions.

She is the woman that taught me most of what I know.

She is the woman that instilled a sense of compassion within me.

She is the woman that challenged me to be my best.

She is the woman that empowered me to believe that I could do whatever I set my mind to.

She is the woman that showed me I am equal to all.

She is the woman that made me feel loved unconditionally.

She is my Mom.

Love you Mom!

Thanks Mom! I love you!

I am a mom of two, trying to have the fun I wasn’t allowed to have when I was the child.  When we were young all we wanted to do was go out, be with our friends, have sleepovers, go to the mall and have fun.  What happens when we become adults who can make those decisions for ourselves…?  We become stuffy prudish people who say, “Oh…I can’t possibly do that…I’m grown up now.”  Or how about this one, “A sleepover with the girls? Maybe I’ll come over but then I should really go home and not spend the night.”  One of my girlfriends recently had a poker night for her birthday and my husband and I got into character and dressed up.  A different friend of mine looking at our pictures the next day said, “Oh my!  You dressed up for a poker night?!  You are so silly!” Seriously, can’t a family oriented, loving dedicated mom still have a little fun?

Cursing the authors, Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, as all I want to do now is curl up for the rest of the day with this book.  Normally that would be a good thing, but not on my last day at home with the two people I love most in this world.  So why not wait until tomorrow?  I can’t.  Dad warned me when he saw me pick it up that Mom had yet to read it and as such I could not take it with me. #@%$#^!@%@#$  To make it worse, I have been searching for months for a novel that had the right voice and felt inspirational enough for me to finish my first novel and there is no doubt in my mind that this is it.  I really hope that this is not the only novel of the now deceased Mary Anne Shaffer.  I’d love to read more of Miss Juliet Ashton and I would really love to read some of her character, Izzy Bickerstaff.

Okay, painfully tearing myself from this delightful book and to the lovelies in my live.  Will tear apart the airport bookstores tomorrow in search of this book.  Really do need to have my own copy of it on one of my many bookshelves after all.

Love and light,

Emme xoxo

So this week’s word:  Hankering

Hankering: A yearning or longing, like the kind that happens in the pants of a two-legged male during the Spring.

‘Two-Legger, Lord Likely’s pants often display the signs of a hankering and not only in the Spring.  Based on the strut that Lord Likely has around my two-legger. I’d say he has a hankering for her, but then again he struts like that around all female two-leggers.’

Right now I have a hankering to give my two-legger a cuddle, especially since she's upset over her Mom. Hate seeing her upset. Photo by Lola May.

One moment earlier this week whilst enjoying a pre-Christmas dinner party at the neighbours, my Dad announced to the table that I no longer play any sports.  Rather than taking this into a totally irrational translation of ‘you’ve become a lazy couch potatoe’, before I knew it out of my mouth came, “No Dad, I still play sports.  I do pole dance after all.”  Needless to say this had the whole table laughing and is unlikely to be forgotten in the neighborhood for years to come.  I’m now ‘their pole dancing daughter from Vancouver’ – that is what Vancouver does to a gal after all.

Perhaps the moment that my Mom and I enjoyed the most, however, was Dad asking for the kazillionth time who Lola was.  Lola one of my greatest friends of all time and one of my writing partners!?!  Mom started to respond with “her partner”.  And once again, my mouth opened, “Yeah Dad we thought it was about time to tell you that there’s a reason why I have yet to bring a man home.  Thought it was important for you to know now as wee little m, isn’t your only grandchild.  You have two other granddaughters too, as it took Lola a while to recognize that she was a lesbian.  Don’t worry you’ll get to meet them shortly, they’re all coming for Christmas.”  Sadly Lola, I gave Dad a quiz after all of this and dear old Dad still doesn’t remember your name or that of your daughters.  He is happy that we’ve found each other, however.

So my suggestion this Christmas is don’t take dinnertime conversations personally, it probably isn’t meant that way, and it’s far more enjoyable to laugh than to fight.