What's in a Name

Everyone has a name, and even if you don't know it, I am sure it means something. It is a relatives name, family tradition, your parents just liked the name, a past friends name, a good memory of a random person named ____, we all have them. As I was pregnant with my children we were constantly thinking of names.

Cameron's middle name was easy. It is my husbands name. There is a James all the way down his dad's side.

Grandma Zelda and Grandpa Ben at our wedding in 2004

Katelyn's middle name was even pretty easy. It was James Grandmas middle name. I loved her. So thus Katelyn's Middle name is Irene from Zelda Irene. As I look at Katelyn I am seeing Grandma Z's traits come out. Katelyn is stubborn, and man was Grandma stubborn. She is independent, and so was Grandma. Mind you this is my Grandma-in-Law, but she made a large impact on me. I love my own Grandmas too, and she reminds me of my very own Grandma Helen, or Hecken as we like to say, but there was always something about her. I loved her. So we named Katelyn, Katelyn Irene. A month before Katelyn was born, Grandma died suddenly. I don't think the family realizes that we were planing on having her middle name Irene since we knew we were having a girl. It just meant even more when she suddenly passed.

Both my kids first names are names we just liked. James picked Katelyn, I picked Cameron (He was almost a Nathan. That was a name my husband picked too.)

Me and Uncle Carlos at our wedding in 2004

My name is actually a last name of my parents friends, the Cali's. I did not meet them till I was 10 or so maybe. When they moved from Hawaii too Colorado. Carlos and my Dad were in the army in Germany together. I have heard tons of stories. Carlos is hilarious! Judy is so genuine and fun to be around. I was always there favorites growing up, I think it is because I was named after them. We call Carlos, Uncle Carlos, and Judy, Aunt Judy. I love them like family. My middle name is Michelle, and from what I have heard it is a tribute to one of my moms ex-boyfriends Michael. (She did not have boyfriends many since her and my dad are high school sweethearts.) My little brothers middle name is Michael too.

So what does this have to do with pieces of the past you may ask? A name is who you are, it is what you become. So are you living up to your name? Is there even a meaning behind it or is it something your parents liked? Is someone named after you? What are the pieces behind your name? I am very curious. There are some great stories out there. So you tell me, whats in YOUR name?

Her Hands

When I look at my hands, I imagine they look somewhat like those of my Granny's about 65 or so years ago. And I like to think there's some of her in me that guide my hands to create. She was an "old" grandmother relative to the ages of her grandchildren, because it was 15 years before my mom was born. But don't be the one to call her old...she was energetic and smart, passionate and talented. She was the best hand quilter I know. She baked the best pies I've eaten. She was always first to volunteer to provide a meal for someone in need.

I'm holding in this photo (besides my lovely mom) a keepsake she made for my wedding day, a pure white linen handkerchief with the most intricate crocheted lace trim.

All of her grandchildren had one of these, even the boys so they could give them to their wives. She couldn't be there to see me married, which broke my heart, and I didn't let that delicate hanky out of my hands that whole day. I was grasping onto her in any way I could. Just three short weeks after my wedding she passed away.

Looking back, I wish a lot of things. I wish I had let her teach me more. I wish I would have watched her more. I wish I would have listened. I wish my husband could have known her as I knew her, instead of the frail body that once worked and the cloudy eyes that once saw. I'm so afraid her memory will fade, so I'm still grasping on to her. Occasionally I dream at night of her, and it's so incredibly real that it's painful to wake up and know she's not here. But I wake up to my daughter who bears her great-grandmother's name, and I know she IS here. It is a testament to how much she impacted my life because, fortunately, the memories I have of her and the lessons I've learned from her have not diminished.

Learning more about Granny helps me to know my own mother and, in turn, myself. They are part of me, and I am part of them. Like holding hands, we intertwine our fingers and our lives with one another. I hope I put my hands to good use, as she certainly did.

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Listen, watch and observe the people and moments that shape the direction of your life. You won't regret it. I love you, Granny, and I miss you like crazy. every. day.

My Brown Eyed Girl

One of my most very favorite smells, above lemon and dirt of course, is my little Sadie bug...especially the memory of her tiny newborn head as she was given to me for the first time. That distinct sweetness that entered my senses that day was one I hoped I would never forget. I remember resting with her in our hospital room the morning after her birth just breathing her in...trying to produce a memory of that moment so that I could bring it back on her 16th birthday or when I was going to have to one day send her off to college.

It's really, really hard to watch your babies grow up.  We wait with baited breath for those first steps or that first word but wish only to be able to go back and see it all again...so this time, could it please be in slow motion. 

The mixed pride and sadness I felt when I heard my 21 month old exclaim her own formed sentence of  "I want to draw a picture mommy" just about knocked me over.  I was losing my little baby and I was so afraid of forgetting all of that time when I would rock her in my arms.  I desperately tried not to cry as I got her some crayons and paper and watched her scribble something only her mommy could see as art. 

I knew I needed something to hold onto.  Something that would remind me of how she felt her first few years and something to show her how much I loved her as a baby.  I knew it had to be more then a picture or a journal entry.  It needed to have the smells and the feel of what she was when she was so tiny.

 I'm sure you have all done it...smelled each memory soaked outfit as you pulled it out of a dresser or box, trying to decide if you should let it go.  A while ago I did this same thing as I was going through her baby clothes.  Each one had a story and I had a really hard time putting anything into that cardboard box headed for Good Will.  I, instead, made three piles.

1. Perfect Condition that held a distinct memory

2. Most Loved, filled with memories but well worn and a tiny bit stained

3. Stuff that never really got used.

I packed the first pile up into the usual Tupperware and put it high up in the garage for a possible girl #2, sent the 3rd pile to a sister-in-law who had just had a baby girl and then I cut the 2nd stack, the ones I just couldn't let go of, into small squares for a quilt... my something to hold on to, cuddle and smell as often as I wanted. After I had enough squares to make a pretty good sized quilt I went to work.  I cried a lot as I made this.  In fact I'm sure there are mommy tears in some of these pieces.  It was harder then I thought but I just kept picturing Sadie and I curled up at night in her bed, when she's old enough to really get it, and getting to tell her about each small square.

One of these was the cute little top I had picked out for her on her first birthday and the bib I made her so that her cake wouldn't get all over it.  I'll get to tell her about all of the people who loved her enough to come and how she preferred her watermelon over her birthday cake.  Sadie, to me, was that color and those ruffles. I couldn't let go. 

These pieces of her past make up this tangible, useful treasure that I want her to love to bits.  Each square has a fun story.  There are so many people who love her that are involved in this project.  Each tiny dress and cute top was given to her by those who will make her who she is.  I can't wait to tell her everything I know about each one of them. 

 Letting go of precious time will always be hard.  Remembering it though, will be a joy!