Stuff Only A Mother Could Love

I'm pooped out tonight.

Last October my parents moved into a new house and were slowly bringing things over from the old house (and from here on out NH means new house and OH means old house...I'm pooped remember?) to the NH. And when I say slowly I absolutely mean slowly.

Anyway, we've (okay they if you want to get technical) are having a garage sale in a few weekends and most of the stuff from the OH needs to go into the sale. So, my mom and I have spent the last two days over at the OH sorting things into garage sale, keep, and trash piles. Trust me...it's not as fun as that clean sweep show makes it seem!

Today we finished up the dining room and started on my parents room. And there was the treasure cove of things I'd made for my parents. I should stop and say right here that I do not have a pack rat gene in my body (I know my dad has it and I think my mom has it too though her's is much less pronounced) and I was trying to trash all sorts of things. I think she was afraid my feelings would be hurt if she got rid of something I'd given her. They weren't. You can only keep stuff so long you know?

Well, my mom came across this little ring pot (how else to describe the lopsided clay creation is beyond me) I had made one year at Girl Scout camp. It was the ugliest little creation. I'd made it with clay which I'd then painted to "match" the decor of their bedroom. It was maroon with turquoise and light pink dots all over it. I swear it looked like it had some kind of dot disease! I asked her if she was keeping it and she said of course. I turned my nose up and carefully set it in the to keep box. That's when she mentioned that some things made by children were things only a mother could love and appreciate! I guess so.

The second memorable child created creation wasn't even a creation. I'd gone on some trip when I was little (the travel bug bit early!) and I'd sent my dad a postcard. It had a fisherman on the front. On the back, in my childish handwriting, I'd written about how much fun I was having and that I'd seen that postcard and thought of him every time I looked at it. My dad loves to fish so apparently it was oh so appropriate! Anyway, at the bottom (after addressing it to Daddy Stewart) I signed it love, your little gril (Steff). I didn't want him to get me confused with all his other little grils I suppose. Apparently my bad spelling started early too! I thought it was pretty sweet that he'd saved it all these years! It was one of those things that I didn't know he'd done it and to find it fifteen plus years later was touching.

I suppose that all parents keep those lopsided clay creations and misspelled postcards too. And if you don't...start. It touched my heart today and reminded me of what I've always known. I am loved so very much!