Push Thru It! Graciously Receive

As I prepared for my Mom's Christmas visit with a "mother clean and paint," it was my annual opportunity to show her that I was indeed a 44-year old grown-up. I would take care of her, dig out my best casserole dishes for home-cooked meals and ensure beds were made with clean linens and my "Oprah" magazine, a scented candle and empty hangers awaiting my favorite guest. "I can stand on my own two feet," the house would say as 20 bags of raked leaves, my hyacinth bathroom walls, a "Welcome Grammy" sign and Weight Watchers home-made soup greeted her, reflecting my stealth ability to take care of my yard, my house, my daughter and overall health and well-being. I would be a finished product this Christmas, arriving as many of my gifts did at the last minute. And, still scrubbing the final globs of dried paint from my arms.

My bleached, dusted, and semi-glossed life with a fresh pine and holly centerpiece, though, showed signs of wreakage, first evident as Mom tasted my soup, reporting barley that tasted like oatmeal and needed a bit more tenderizing in the crockpot. Staying a step ahead, I explained the missing shower rod, quickly shifting focus to the new brackets I would install following a failed screwdriver attempt with the impacted 50 year-old painted over screws from my not-so-extreme bathroom makeover. "Call Greg. He'll have a drill, " Mom said, suggesting an abdication of my together life to the brother-in-law who also installed my shades and AC window unit, helped negotiate my refinance and, with my sister, programmed my stereo remote when I was not yet so self-sufficient (or senselessly prideful).

I could be defensive, I thought, justifying that the barley was supposed to be chewy and committing to another vein attempt to dislodge the screws and my shoulder from its socket in the morning. Or, I could be open and "graciously receive" despite my desire to help Mom rest in peace someday knowing I have a matching valance and cafe curtain to hide my peeing in the morning. The choice was obvious; I humbled myself to cook our pancakes longer when Mom said they could "stand to be a little browner" and accept her loving guidance and help.

"I'll buy your groceries," Mom said, opening the door to the "5 for the price of 1" Pure Softness tissue special and a second turkey loin that would prepare us for a season of colds and weeks of money saving leftovers beyond just our intended Christmas meal and her brief visit. My cart and heart filled as I agreed to peanut butter and coffee for a rainy day. My sister also surprised me with a pulsating shower nozzle after my Chinese Water torture model confessed further evidence of my subconscious cry for help, failing to rinse her conditioner and give her a pep in her step following a long trip from Delaware.

The seasonal unwrapping and unraveling continued as we capped off the "I am a grown-up" visit with an offer to take my family to dinner. As Mom folded the last pieces of laundry before we departed, we heard a scream. "It's a dead mouse!" she exclaimed. Picking up the final remnants from the dryer, the apparent lint ball was a cooked mouse who made a fatal attempt to come in from the cold. Tail between my legs (and in the mouse's case, on the laundry room floor), we could do nothing but nervously laugh and, of course, humanely dispose of the mouse's remains.

I am an unfinished product, much like the unfinished furniture my Dad stained and made beautiful for sentimental gifts that proudly state "Love, Dad." I have people who love, finish and help me shine when I allow myself to graciously receive. They also accept me along the way - chewy barley, mice, warts and all - and I will do the same for them. Their efforts bear their signature -"Love, Mom; "Love, Lisa" (the list goes on) - and loving impression on my life. They make me better.

• Where might you need to graciously receive? 
• Who can leave a loving impression on your life?

P.S. Mom, I will work on rinsing milk glasses and bowls of pancake batter to make life easier. I am not sure how I will remedy the longstanding towel issue. More to come next year! Thanks for the wonderful "Mother Love"! I love you.

Push Thru It! Take the Pressure Off!

The author of the "Serenity Prayer" must have conceived it while chiseling pecan squares from the bottom of a pan with a plastic spatula. Pecan squares were my chosen holiday dessert for the girls' night at my house this week, following Cherry Jubilee and another homemade recipe, likely handed down from generations, made by the cool, new friends I am trying to impress in our wine and dessert non-book club. The squares also presented a holiday baking opportunity for my 5 year-old daughter and me, the house smelling like apple pie from my Yankee candle as we held the spoon together stirring the oooey goey ingredients to a slow boil. She will remember these days cooking with her mother, I thought. Perhaps, the experience would offset her morning upset for my not putting Willa Wonka on "pause" when we raced to her room to find a brown outfit for Reindeer Day.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change." As I gently unwrapped the foil the next morning to reveal and cut our pecan squares, the start of perhaps a treasured mother-daughter holiday tradition and family recipe, the crust resembled plaster I had just slapped on my bathroom wall to support the structure of my 50 year-old home. My frustration grew with failed attempts to remove the squares with the Gumby spatula erupting a volcano explosion of crust onto my red tablecloth, already decorated for the evening. Optimist that she is, my daughter said "it will be okay" as she nibbled a $7 pecan. I impulsively put the whole dessert under hot water, resolving to find another solution and salvage my stupid Pampered Chef pan.

"The courage to change what I can." I quickly looked up Peppermint Brownies, another holiday dessert featuring Paula Dean's happy face to reflect my creativity and domesticity from the red tablecloth whose volcano crumbs I would suck up with the vacuum cleaner after work. No $1.99 brownie mix would do. I would dash to the store after my day, making time for the 24 peppermint patties I would need to unwrap in matter of seconds before the guests arrived.

"And the wisdom to know the difference." "Oh, you can't do that!" my co-worker laughed when I expressed my desire to make homemade Peppermint Brownies after working 8 hours, being stuck like pecan squares in traffic and cleaning the aftermath of the volcano ashes and a dog that endlessly sheds at home. I breathed a sigh of relief when she accepted my invitation to ditch the domesticity and hightail it to the grocery store to buy a chocolate fudge pie with seasonal Egg Nog Icecream.

When I stopped working so hard, the world opened up. Icecream was on sale, 2 for 1, and I bought Egg Nog and Peppermint Icecream to top the pie. My friends didn't give a rip about the store-bought dessert, caring only about me and laughing at the plight I readily shared when I realized my own internal pressure created the volcano and not anything they would think or say. One girl even ended up in my pajama pants after spilling red wine on her skirt and my chair, admitting later that she also pee'd in them from all the laughing we did that night. We are all human.

• Where do you need to take the pressure off? 
• Where can you be more accepting of yourself?

Get yourself unstuck. Grant yourself serenity, and the world will open up. And, the dessert will taste even sweeter!