Stars ore Game

Go Stars

Today

The bed is made. Yeah!

Little Life Lessons From Pillows

We have a rule in our house compliments of our friend and life coach Toni Reeder: Last one up makes the bed.

Though my inner artist does not afford me much affection for rules, my acceptance of this good habit was immediate being that I'm the earliest bird in my family. My man is the consummate night owl.

Now I'm not very picky about many things in my home like my mother and grandmothers before me, who carefully trained me in the ways of the domestic world. I figure that projects are more important than pushing dust, people are better than power cleaning. I'll choose the former any day, and why I rebel so...I simply don't know.

I care at times to say that I've been "set free" from the worries of housework and just do my best to keep everything functioning. As long as we're all still smiling and having a good time why does it matter anyway, and I don't see too many people around here complaining about a missed meal. I DID heed the advice of my elders when it comes to cooking. That's gotta count for something, right?

But, of all the things I have an aversion to in the realm of housework, there is one thing that could potentially feel like a prickly pear right in my side if not complete. It is simply this: I CANNOT crawl into an unmade bed. Oh no. For this, I know I am truly my mother's daughter and her mother Bernice "Toosie" before her.

This does not work out well for my man.

Here he finds himself the victim of Reeder's Rule each morning, and yet he's still just a man and every woman including the late Tammy Wynette knows that the inner bed-maker is not inherent in his or any other male DNA. Well, that is, unless you send them into the ARMY like my brother-in-law Steve. We've had these discussions. That seems to change a man's perspective on bed-making and for that matter other household chores...maybe I should enlist.

Nevertheless, we have good days and bad days around here with regard to my little hang up. I offer alot of grace in this area, but it still does not keep me from making the bed just before I crawl into it to lay my body down for a long night's rest.

Recently, I stopped at home between appointments in my work day just to change my sweater. True, I love October weather even when it carries over into November, but my internal thermostat is schizophrenic right now--not to mention that fact that women my age are perimenopausal. That's just a nice way of telling us, "Hey, you're about to hit menopause. Start using that word more so you can get the hang of it! Men...Oh, Pause!"

So I walk into the bedroom and what do I find? To my amazement, my male DNA husband (one would hope so) has made the bed! The angels are singing the Hallelujah chorus in my head and one singular irridescent ray of sunshine encroaches through the vertical blinds. Because this was done without asking, I stopped in my tracks, dropped my purse to the ground and marveled at the work of my husband's hands...that is--until I noticed the subtle little message he left behind.

I began to laugh outloud.

He, being in his home office, began to laugh too when he heard me.

No one had to say a word.

I walked into his office and stood before his executive desk like a juvenile offender, smiling. "I just don't understand why you need seven pillows when I need only one," said he.

There I disposed myself to his humor at my expense and with the poised countenance of a princess with a pea problem, I prevailed. I stuck my chin up into the air and turned on my heels toward my closet. Now...about that sweater. If there was such a thing as getting someone's goat, mine had been gotten, and I would not admit my defeat outwardly.

Inwardly, my heart was cheerful knowing that the differences between men and women can sometimes unshackle an unspoken affection that sparks camaraderie when we least expect it. I suppose that's why God wired us so differently, so we can spend a lifetime deciphering this mystery of love through little life lessons from pillows and housework. For just a moment, I was thankful...a very brief moment.

The Day Baby Hebert Became "Annie"

I feel like I'm just coming up for air a little following my trip to Louisiana for the arrival of my niece. The whole experience was completely surreal.

To begin with, it takes an Act of Congress to get my family out of town. Work, school, home, dog....finally everything is in check so we attempt to pile into the Volvo for the trip home. We spend all day packing. Bummer. We forgot about the guitar.

We unpack the Volvo.

We repack the Suburban. Everything fits alright--no problems there. The only real problem is that the weather has just dropped from 75 degrees to 45 in thirty minutes and the heater doesn't work in the Suburban. This is not going to be good. What else is not going to be good--I packed for 75 degrees, not the first frost. Barnacles!

So we pack blankets and pillows for the road and coats for tomorrow.

We arrive at Granny's house in the middle of the night. She waits up with cheesecake, pie, coffee, bubbly...whatever we want! Ha! She's so happy that her chickens are in her nest. Eli is almost her height save for the blue-grey bun that's been spun into a beehive on the top of her head since 1950.

We finally go to sleep in the little Elf cottage of Mrs. Claus. Everything is miniature. My husband has to sleep catercornered across Nannie Tanner's Victorian canopy bed. She's so tiny, she just sleeps on the sofa like Tinkerbell on a lovely flower.

We wake up to coffee, lunch at Dwight's restaurant in Lafayette, and a full day at the hospital with my sister Ava who has labored through the night already. I take frequent breaks and drive to Fresh Pickens for an occasional piece of fruit as I listen to the Cajun music on the radio and wish I could have a night at La Poussiere in Breaux Bridge. Yes, I could kick up a little dust of my own.

When I'm home, there's a certain charm about the culture that I know surely must be a dream that I hold since I don't live there all the time. But the dream is enough to make me smile, just wishing I was twirling around the dance floor in the strong arms that would hold me, unfooled by tricky syncopations.

So I wait and wait with the entire Hebert clan for news of Baby Hebert's arrival after the doctor announces an impending Caesarean as we listen to one poor woman deliver naturally in the room next door. As my friend Donna Cook once said to me when I considered natural childbirth, "There are no heroes in the labor room." I believed it just then.

Things became very quiet once my sister's room had been emptied. We didn't know how the news would come, but we knew it would come soon. After an hour or so, JJ rounded the corner with a bundle and announced to his mother with the proudest grin I've ever seen, "It's a girl." Mama Nancy did an about-face and literally ran into the crowd as the news rang out, "It's a girl!"


From that moment on, JJ and this new baby girl seemed to stand idly by while our collective worlds became one mesh in the form of human flesh! Our tears, laughter, hugs, and jumps were slow-motion moments as the new journey began for this little girl. For a brief minute I really was an Hebert too! There was so much joy all around.

My sister Ava was in recovery, and JJ brought the baby back to the nurse for weigh in and testing. When we asked what her birthday was, we laughed when he didn't know. We were so close to midnight.

After some time, my sister called for me and in usual Ava fashion, she was the selfless patient, ready for my visit and hugs. I have never known anyone so accomodating to others in my life and yet she still knows her own mind. She is quite a girl, that Ava. She is quite a friend. And I knew when I first saw her hold Annie, that she is going to be quite a Mom, a real natural.


Whew! I can barely recall without tears all of these memories that should be fresh yet seem like the ages have gone by since I last saw my family. All I know is that the day Baby Hebert became "Annie" is one I will cherish until my dying breath. Life is truly a gift and a miracle from God. May God bless Ava and JJ and of course my sweet Annie James.