family – Page 4 – Abigail Mumford

belated mother’s day

May 28, 2013May 20, 2013 abby mumford

as you’re all aware, mother’s day was on 5/12, but we didn’t celebrate it until 5/26 because that’s when sister J, sister E, and myself had all invaded mom’s house and could offer hugs and kisses and breakfast in bed* like proper daughters.

*by breakfast in bed, i mean dinner at the dining room table.

i’ve written about my mom a lot on this blog, so much so, it would take me hours to link to all the posts, but here are some of my favorites. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven posts, plus one more that includes a bunch more links inside. however, just linking to the posts seems like a bit of the lazy woman’s way to say HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MOM. YOU ROCK AND ARE THE AWESOMEST AND COOLEST AND HIPPEST MOM EVER.

and so, i’ll see you those eight posts and raise you one more. (my mom likes cards, i have to stick with that metaphor.) (cards, yes. gambling, no.) (unless she has a secret gambling addiction she’s kept professionally hidden all these years?)

where was i?

oh yes, my mom.

she’s the person i’ve known the longest in my life. i’ve known her longer than i even remember, but the memories we’ve made since i’ve been a so-called adult have been my favorites. she still manages to be there in a motherly fashion when i need her but those times are interspersed with moments where i’d call her my friend. it’s one of the few side effects of adulthood i actually enjoy.

in fact, mom, as friends, we should probably invent a secret handshake or something. maybe like this:

thanks for being my mom and my friend and willing to drink a bottle of wine or a cup of coffee and taking walks and cracking jokes and eating dinner and making dinner and listening to me and dispensing advice and pushing me out of my comfort zone and letting me dream and encouraging me and always being there. at the risk of repeating myself: YOU ROCK AND ARE THE AWESOMEST AND COOLEST AND HIPPEST MOM EVER. i love you.

feelings

happy third

April 16, 2013April 15, 2013 abby mumford

dear baby mac,

today, you are 3. (you’re no longer a baby nor have you been one for awhile, but the (blog) nickname stuck and so i’ll address you as such.) you are, in fact, a big girl now. your brain astounds me, both in its cleverness, its sneakiness, its unlimited boundaries and its potential. you are parts silly, sweet, sassy, and stubborn, but your mom is more so, which usually sets you in your place. ;)

you have this unusual ability of appearing not to be paying attention, but when we least expect it, you pipe up with the correct answer or a spot on question or a poignant statement and we learn yet again not to underestimate you.

we’ve also learned you’re starting to know what we mean when we say “n-a-p” or “d-r-i-n-k”. slow down! you’re too smart!

you’re a bundle of emotion bouncing and hopping and running and giggling and screeching. no matter the emotion, it’s contagious, but by none more so than bubba mac (your wee bitty brother). he adores and stares and copies and follows you everywhere. i know you think he’s annoying, but you take your big sister role in stride as you proudly proclaim him, “my baby.”

you’re a funny little thing who’s blossoming into an amazing person.

your imagination marvels me, but so does your take on reality.

looking at decorations — taking in all the decorations

you may look like your mother’s twin, but your thoughts on having your picture taken are on par with your aunt’s (aka, mine):

all in all, you’re one grand kid and i can’t wait to see what superhero things you accomplish/come up with next.

xoxo,
aunt abby

travel

munchkins

April 12, 2013April 15, 2013 abby mumford

every sunday (well, barring any scheduling difficulties), i make a very important phone call to sister J. because of the wonders of technology, said phone call lets me see her, baby mac (3yo), bubba mac (1yo), and when he’s not doing his doctor duties, BILT. the kids are of the age where every day brings new changes and expressions and words and actions and it’s so so so much fun to watch them grow.

even if they like to push the button that hangs up on me.

this time, i’m not giving them that option because i’m forgoing one technology (the phone) for another (a plane).

with faces like those, you see why i’m powerless to resist.

i wish you a very happy weekend. see you on the flip side.

feelings

family sayings

April 5, 2013April 4, 2013 abby mumford

being a part of a large family, going anywhere all together is a production and a half. we’re all arms and legs and hair not dried and makeup not applied. everyone is ready at different times. some are rushing, some are waiting, some are sleeping. others have to pee one more time. someone forgot to pack a necessary food or drink item. that person is reading. someone else forgot the tickets or their phone and has to run back inside. another person decided their coat was too heavy or too light and a trade needed to be made or more hats/gloves/scarves grabbed. activities here and there and let’s run a quick errand first and all the things (!) until we’re piled in the car(s) eons after we originally wanted to leave.

and we’re off like a herd of turtles.

(yes, that really is the mumford family motto. yes, we really do say it all the time. yes, it really does make us laugh and yet groan at the truth of it.)

do you have any family sayings or habits or traditions? DO TELL.

*pulls up chair*

*sits*

*waits*

feelings

how a memory works

March 8, 2013March 7, 2013 abby mumford

after skiing in smaller groups all day, we took one run as a whole family (mom, dad, brother G, and sister J (sorry E, you weren’t born yet)). it was J’s first time on the trail, but G and i, having been down that black diamond numerous times before, were racing and showing off for sister J who was methodically swishing her way down the mountain.

it was springtime and the sun turned the snow into slush. i zigged. my ski zaged. i flipped. my knee did something it wasn’t supposed to. i don’t remember the pain but i distinctly remember laying there wondering how i got there. skis were removed (mine, my parents) and placed in x’s around me as a slight form of protection while we waited for the ski patrol.

riding backwards downhill strapped into a toboggan was more terrifying than skiing a double black diamond.

the next thing i remembered was waking up and remarking how my knee felt cold. i looked down and my leg was immbolized in a full brace with just the knee cap exposed, hence the chilliness.

the next next thing i remember is wearing it at school. seeing as i was in the third grade, we walked everywhere in lines meaning there was always a huge gap between me and the next person — hey, you try walking when you can’t bend your knee — and it was the most mortifying thing. actually, come to think of it, the unevenly spaced lines might have been out-embarrassed by the moment(s) when i had to go to the nurse to use the bathroom because i couldn’t work the brace by myself. (again, it was third grade, people).

to this day (knock on wood), it’s the only serious sports injury i’ve had and seeing as i’ve recently returned to the land of skiing and snowboarding, i asked my mom just last week what her memory was of this momentous occasion.

she said, and i quote, “It was late in the date and the slope was slushy. We were on a black diamond, you fell and twisted your knee. In a week you were all well and playing basketball.”

there are so many things about her statement that don’t coincide with my memory that, umm, wow, where do i even start? (1) three sentences? i know we were on text message, but this was A BIG MOMENT in my young life. at least give me four sentences to round out a paragraph. (2) a week? a week is all it took for me to recover? (3) basketball? oh yeah, i guess i did play that sport once upon a time. i haven’t played in who knows how long because i was only ever good at stealing the ball. shooting? naw. passing? eh. dribbling? ha. jumping? yeah, i didn’t get those mumford height genes that all three of my siblings did.

memories are an odd thing.

to me, it was/is a HUGE memory. i was young, fearless (case in point, see brother G’s comments), and unaccustomed to injury. it impacted my life beyond the slope. it lingered and gave me a story to tell. i felt brave and scared all zipped up in a ski parka. that event remains a startling (if incomplete) image in my brain.

to my mom, it wasn’t a big deal. i was out of commission for only a short while and i made a complete recovery. her brain pushed it aside to save room for, you know, her bigger memories like, say, those four times she gave birth. those memories alone ought to obliterate any miniscule memories of a child’s minor injury. granted, she did remember the event (albeit in clipped, sparse detail), which means it must have been somewhat memorable.

maybe, just maybe, my memory is overinflated and her version is the accurate one.

i guess it all depends upon which perspective you’re coming from.

have you ever had a memory repeated to you that changed the way you viewed it? it’s kind of mind blowing, isn’t it?

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