My little one’s school had a photographer come as a thank you for moms who had volunteered during the year.  When I told Maris she said she wanted to wear her Chapel uniform (their most formal) and I was so pleased she wanted to have her picture with me.  Her school has a beautiful organic garden complete with a bridge under which fish placidly swim and flowers upon which newly hatched butterflies land.  It cannot be said enough:  I adore a theme.  So this year my little one had all things fox.  She had a fox lunch box, a fox water bottle, a fox backpack, and a fox nap mat.  She even had a fox ice pack and fox reusable sandwich bags.  And all the stickers I put in her belongings of course had foxes next to her name.  So I decided to wear my fox sweater in her honor.  She adores it because it is of a mommy fox kissing her baby.  Since we have wolf hybrids, I love coyotes and foxes which are their cousins.  The famous Roman writer Horace, said, “A picture is a poem without words”.  I find myself uncharacteristically without words but I can say what this picture exudes for me — and that is love; love for my clever little fox.

My Mother had a huge, heavy solid gold charm bracelet for as long as I can remember.  It was one of her nicest pieces of jewelry and jammed with mementos of her life.  I remember it had a little San Francisco trolley car, a lamp post from her honeymoon in New Orleans with Daddy, a grand piano because she studied classically and played for almost two decades, and many other little things that would jangle when she’d walk.  She wore it to church sometimes but always on Mother’s Day.  When Maris was born I told Burk I would like to start my a charm bracelet of my own only in silver.  Although we had been to some great places on our travels, I wanted the bracelet to begin with the three of us as a family.  I also thought it would help him have a built-in Mother’s Day present each year where he wouldn’t have to struggle to come up with something.  It would mean a lot to me and not even be expensive.  (I am assuming Maris will take command of this in a few years.)  Just like Mama, I wear my bracelet to church sometimes but always proudly on Mother’s Day.  Mine only has about 14 charms so far.  It started with a pair of baby booties that has Maris’ name and birthdate engraved on the back.  Next was a Saguaro cactus commemorating our first family trip to see my cousins in Phoenix before Maris was even six months old.  Then came a tiny Zia sun representing Santa Fe, and a scalloped shell to commemorate our first family trip to the beach which was Sanibel Island.  In the center is the Eiffel Tower for our first family trip to Paris, where Maris would walk by herself for the very first time, and I have the pyramid we climbed in the ancient Mayan ruins of Coba.  American author James Patterson said, “I love to tell stories.  It’s a delight for me.”  Sharing stories of personal experience is one of my delights.  Each charm in my bracelet is like a mini novel I can reveal or simply privately recall as a reminder of a special time in my life.  I look forward to adding more — for the experiences, the memories, and the stories.  Maybe someone else will be charmed, too.

I have always known my daughter and my mother shared a special connection; just as I did with my mother’s mother, Grandmother Maris.  The similarities between them are uncanny.  My mother was a little older in her picture here and I notice she’s wearing a good dress and pearls.  Mama was a true red head with light brown eyes and Maris is auburn with eyes so dark brown you cannot see her pupils.  But the resemblance between them is not merely physical.  They have the same mannerisms and say the EXACT same phrases, which is inexplicable given my mother passed away when my daughter was barely three; so one cannot argue they were learned.  My husband remarks upon it almost daily.  I lost Mama the day after Thanksgiving two years ago.  She was 81 and she had physically started slowing down so I affectionately called her “Zoom.”  I cannot tell you the number of times Burk has bulged his eyes out and pointed at our daughter hollering, “LOOK!  IT’S ZOOM!!!”  I always tell him not to point, holler, or refer to our only child as an “it” but I do love that he recognizes it.  She is almost the spitting image of my mother physically and in so many other ways as well.  I had three precious Mother’s Days where I had Mama with her namesake.  Now my mother lives on through my child.  And that is a great kindness God, in His infinite mercy, has granted me.  When I ache for my mother I watch Maris get her purse just like Mama would.  I see her put on “Chapsticks” in the precise same way my mother used to apply her lipstick.  We cannot leave to go to a restaurant until she has picked out a necklace — just like my mother always did.  I am so glad my husband got to know my mother since he was never able to meet my father, whom I lost when I was 28.  I will always take with me the greatness of my parents.  And they were great.  American soprano Leontyne Price said:

“Momma was home.  She was the most totally human, human being that I have ever known, and so very beautiful.  Within our home, she was an abundance of love, discipline, fun, affection, strength, tenderness, encouragement, understanding, inspiration, support.”

That is the kind of mother I strive to be for my daughter.  I hope one day she says I am great, too.

Today I’ll be writing about irony.  My husband got a scratch/scrape/invisible hurt of some kind on his arm and it was a whole big thing.  I needed to look at it; no under the light.  What should he put on it?  Did I think he should go to the doctor?  Finally our little one appointed herself his nurse, slathered on something (possibly toothpaste) and then crowned it with all the pomp and circumstance of a queen bestowing knighthood.  She even doled out one of her beloved Hello Kitty band-aids for such a serious occasion.  I will say it takes a secure man to sport little pink cats on his arm, and frankly I think he wore it well.  But did I think it was it healing?  Could I just look at it again?  Did it look better?  What did I think it was?  Should he spray something on it?  Meanwhile it turns out I have been running around on a broken shoulder with nary a peep for an entire week.  I am wearing a big black sling and can barely lift my arm.  Last night Burk sent me a text asking if I’d brought home the wolfies’ 80 pound bag of bison vittles.  Really?!  I told him between working for 12 hours, dressing and taking our daughter to and from school, seeing not one but two doctors, and hauling in three heavy bags of groceries one-handed I had not.  Sadly, the sarcasm was lost.  The orthopedist to take it easy for two months and I have to have a CT scan on Monday to make sure it does not require surgery.  (If you are reading this please pray it does not!)  American Olympic gold medal gymnast Shawn Johnson said, “Injury taught me I need to learn how to face challenges.”  I really like that quote.  Now my real challenge will be to get my husband over his grievous ailment and not relapse.  I would throw my arm dramatically over my eyes … but I can’t.

While other people were looking at enormous portraits in Versailles I was exclaiming over door locks, finials, and drawer pulls.  I have always been a details person.  In the petit appartement de la reine there is a drawer pull in the shape of a double-headed eagle.  For me the little things matter and my eyes often fall upon them.  I found this sweet, quirky cat on a drawer in my client’s kitchen the other day and was instantly charmed.  Instead of a regular handle here was this whimsical piece of hardware that made me grin every time I saw it.  There are of course big picture people and we certainly need them as well.  Just look at Le Notre, the landscape architect of Versailles.  He had a grand vision people still visit in awe by the thousands everyday.  My eyes, though, cannot help but take note of the fountains and statuary — the turn of a muscle, the fold of a gown, or strands of hair carved painstakingly out of marble.  I suppose the downside to noticing details is I always straighten other people’s pictures, and price tags — even on cleaning supplies under the sink — make me crazy.  Paramount Pictures CEO Brad Grey said, “I learned no detail was too small.  It was all about the details.”  I happen to agree.  Not a lot of people see our little master bathroom,  but if they do they immediately notice the giant silhouette of a wolf pausing mid-walk with the sun behind him on our shower curtain.  I remember someone once called it a “statement curtain”.  That may be politesse for nuts.  Only one person that I can recall has ever gotten past it long enough to notice the hooks, which are also wolves.  I may be the only lunatic to have wolf shower curtain hooks but they make me happy; it’s all in the details.

May I just say how proud I am of my little girl?  Inside the May edition of Suburban Parent it reads, “COVER MODEL Maris 4 1/2  Maris may be young, but she already has 6 belts in karate.  She also has plenty of pets (2 wolf hybrids, 4 cats, 1 mouse, 2 turtles and several koi).  Good practice for being “a doctor for animals” when she grows up.  Until then, she likes painting seashells, collecting rocks, and playing in the park.”  I think I’m beginning to understand the pride my parents had in me for my accomplishments.  American author John C. Maxwell said:

“There are two kinds of pride, both good and bad.  ‘Good pride’ represents our dignity and self-respect.  ‘Bad pride’ is the deadly sin of superiority that reeks of conceit and arrogance.”

My father taught me about both kinds of pride.  He lived the good kind, never letting others define him with their own bad kind.  Maris has already had more advantages at the tender age of four than I had in 36 years before marrying.  It is imperative to me that she REALLY understands (good) pride tempered with humility and self-respect without the fallaciousness of “better than” or arrogance.  I am proud of her for the person she is becoming and I love everything she does — from her crayon scribbles to karate kicks.  I remember my daddy was SO proud in that TV audience when I was in the Miss Texas USA pageant.  I wondered why he didn’t seem as proud when I won first place in the state for news writing, or when I got first place in solo singing competitions every year.  I do not believe he was any less pleased, I guess it was just the only time I got to see him there and was able to observe it.  Anyway, forgive a proud mama for indulging.  Her daddy went out and swept up every copy he could find so I know he is proud, too.  I also know how thrilled my mother would be for her namesake.  I am so glad they did not remove her Stella Maris necklace that she always wears.  How fitting that my Marian child would make the cover in the month of May.  So, my precious angel, with my mother’s name and my father’s birthday, here’s to many more accomplishments.  Soar high my darling.  Achukma hoke.

Today, May 3, is officially National Teacher Day.  The National Education Association describes it as “a day for honoring teachers and recognizing the lasting contributions they make to our lives”.  The teacher who had the most impact on my life was my fourth grade music teacher Mrs. Martin.  I already loved to sing but it was she who encouraged me to try out for the Dallas Girls’ Chorus.  My first concert I performed at SMU and that very night I KNEW where I wanted to go to college.  When I think of all the things that have happened in my life because of one woman’s encouragement it simply cannot be measured.  A lifelong Methodist, ironically I became Episcopalian at Southern Methodist University.  The Episcopal church I would join some years later would lead me to meeting the most handsome man I had ever seen besides my daddy.  That same sweet, incredibly intelligent, impossibly handsome man, a cradle Episcopalian, would propose to me to me one year later.  We would marry in that church and have our precious baby girl christened there as well.  It is with no small amount of shock that as I write this I realize because of the interest one remarkable woman took in me at the age of 10 I would declare my alma mater which would lead to my church home, finally finding the man of my dreams, and, by the grace of God, having our precious miracle child.  It is mind-blowing thinking about it … God’s plan, how it works, and how He uses others to guide and shape our lives in ways we do not always even know.  I have very few regrets but how I wish my beloved Mrs. Martin were still here so I could tell her and thank her.  I kept up my singing until college and I still sing for pleasure.  My little one is starting to sing and she seems to love it, too.  Today Maris will carefully sign her name to cards chosen with thought for the teachers in her life.  I feel the cards and flowers just do not seem adequate.  We as a society must place more emphasis and recognition on our teachers, nurses, fire fighters, and more who so generously give of themselves to help others every day.  At one time education was for the elite and in some countries it still is.  We must pay our educators more.  But we cannot do that until we truly value and appreciate them and all that they do.  My daddy always told me the one thing no one could ever take away from me was my education.  That is what I am trying to instill in our daughter.  American journalist Henry Brooks Adams said, “A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.”  I know that to be true.

According to Chinese astrology I believe last year was the year of the sheep.  However in our house it was the year of the mouse.  Meet Rosie Twinkletoes Murchison, officially and duly named by my little one when she turned four.  She doesn’t know this, but the inquisitive, smart, sweet little mouse was just about to be lunch for some punky teenage boy’s snake.  I just couldn’t bear it.  It was the best $4 I ever spent in my life and Rosie is a joyful addition to our family.  She loves to be held and rolls around in her clear ball deftly dodging cats.  Our little one was having her birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese and I adore a good theme.  I was pretty darn proud of myself coming up with “Ratatouille”.  When I was a kid Chuck E. Cheese was a cigar smoking rat.  They’ve changed his image over the years and now he’s supposed to be a mouse — a thin one of course.  But I digress.  My rodent theme went over the top after I presented my little one with Rosie.  I will never EVER forget how delighted she was as she kept asking, “Is she really mine, Mama?!”  Rosie Twinkletoes Murchison lives in Maris’ bathroom — with the door shut.  Once it was open and we found her surrounded on two sides plus on her roof by our cats; poor little thing.  She was chattering at them telling them to leave and not hiding at all.  All animals have value and I am so thankful I could at least save her.

Every animal has his or her story, his or her thoughts, daydreams, and interests.  All feel joy and love, pain and fear, as we now know beyond any shadow of a doubt.  All deserve that the human animal afford them the respect of being cared for with great consideration for those interests or left in peace. ~ President of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals Ingrid Newkirk

There is a mouse in our house … and we couldn’t be happier.