Friday, December 28, 2012

Mine, Mine, MINE!

If you've seen Disney's Finding Nemo, think of the scene with the seagulls and you'll hear what I hear in my head right now.

"Isn't that afghan mine?"

"No mom, this is my woobie." I will not give up my woobie to my mom. I don't care how upset it makes her to hear the word "no". She will not take over my woobie.

Mom has started saying, "That's mine", to a lot of items. Most of the time, I could give a flip. If she wants the chair pad to be hers, have it. The book I'm reading, hers. The bench in the entry way that I bough in 2000 for my house in Texas, its hers now. My jeans that will never fit her, sure… have them. I know that when she tries to put them on she'll end up telling me they don't fit her and I can have them. The pots and pans, hers. Not even gonna fight  her on that one. Not that she cooks, but its important that I know they are hers and I better not damage them. Not worth arguing over. I've learnt it's easier to agree with her and let her claim it. It's not hurting anything or anyone.

There are a few things mom will never claim. First off, my dog- she reminds me daily that "Omar is yours, you take care of her." (FYI- her name is Maybelle but mom insists on calling her Omar. LOL Luckily the dog has figured out that's her name too.) Second, the laundry; that's one job I'm sure she was very glad to hand over. Third, my minivan. She hates my mini van. Why, I have no idea but I know she'll never tell anyone its hers. Fourth and Fifth, the lawnmower and snow blower. Two more things she's glad to be free of.

But when she tells me my beloved woobie is hers. OH HELL NO! LOL I tell her firmly that it is mine and she gives up. I think she can hear in my voice that this is one item I will not give in on. She has taken over two of my snuggies, a fleece blanket and a few other blankets. (I am a blanket-aholic for those wondering. I love blankets, even in the summer!) Not a big deal. I know that at some point down the road they will all come back to me. But my woobie, NOPE! Anyone who has ever been in my house knows, unless you're under the age of 5, the woobie is mine. If you're a kid, you can cuddle with me under it. The only other being allowed to use my woobie, without me, was my dog Petey. He'd pull it off the back of the couch and wrap up in it. Or he even crawled into the dryer once with it. He loved it as much as I do. Even Maybelle knows that unless I'm using my woobie, she's not to be in it, on it or near it.

My mom knit this afghan for me in 1995 as a gift when I started college at the University of North Texas. It is made from white and blue variegated yarn that I chose and is in the fan pattern. It is extra large because when I snuggle up in it I want to be wrapped from head to toe. I told her when it was over my dad's head (he is 5'11) by at least two inches, then it was long enough. I am a whopping 5'3…. I like a big blanket. When it was done and she gave it to me it officially became my woobie. No other blanket I own or will own will ever be called "woobie". It went to college with me, it went through my marriage with me, it has lived in Texas, Wisconsin and now Colorado. I have traveled with it. It is the first thing I unpacked each time I have moved. It is a part of me. This will be the only afghan I ever have made specifically for me by mom. She has now forgotten how to knit. I dreamed of a yellow and blue one and she got the yarn for it, but it will never come to be. That royally sucks.

She's made other afghans. One is the size of a bedspread for a king size bed. I kid you not- it is HUGE. It is packed up right now as I hate folding it but love snuggling in it. It was made out of all the leftover yarn she had. There are stripes of orange, brown, a variegated puke color, blue, white, yellow, green, and red. It is not a pretty afghan, but it is huge and it was rarely used until three years ago when I found it in a box. She made it in the mid 70's and only used it for a few months on their king size bed. She put it up just after I was born in 1976 because with three small children she didn't want it to get wrecked. It is still soft and smells of the lavender she packed it up with. I have laid claim to this one and since it's still packed up, I think I'm safe. ;)

One of my very best friends has one that even her new husband likes to cuddle in (though at first he didn't see how a blanket with "holes" could keep anyone warm). My niece in Germany has a gorgeous one. My nephew has one. My ex-husband has one- he even offered to give it back to me when we divorced in 2003. I felt that it was only right for him to keep it, she made it specifically for him. I think my brother's ex-fiance has one. My dog uses the one that was made for me as a baby. We have one that is Packer colors- that's dad's favorite one. I have found a few other ones in her boxes and I will discuss with her who they should go to. Her sister had one, but back in 2001 it fell apart in the washing machine after 30+ years of weekly washing and kids and grand-kids (My aunt was a bit OCD). Hell, I even had two for my cabbage patch kids. I don't know where they are now though. There may be other's out there that I don't know about.

And there's one in a box in her office closet. It's for my dad- it is tan and is a beautiful popcorn pattern. She just finished it this summer with the help of my Aunt B. It was been 95% done since 2010 but Mom couldn't remember how to take it off the needles so Aunt B. helped her. Dad knows it's for him. But she still won't give it to him yet. She's told me once she's gone to give it to him. I am hoping I can convince her to do it sooner.

But the most important one is one she made for my dad back when they first got married in 1968. It's made with leftovers also. And it has strings, I guess you could call them tassels of sort. It is UGLY. Anyone who has seen it will say it's not very pretty. But when you lay under it, it's warm and that's the purpose of it. When we were growing up, you could find any one of us three kids under it with dad. Sometimes, just me and Tony. When we were sick, mom would cover us with it. Even as teens Tony and I used to fight over who got to use it. However in April of 1995 when mom, dad and I moved to Texas it went missing. It tore mom up not to have it. She found it in July of 1995. In my brother Tony's apartment in Wisconsin. One of his buddies was covered up with it.  Tony said one word, "SHIT!" and then looked sheepishly at my mom. She burst out laughing because she should have known who took it. He admitted that he normally hide it if we were coming to visit, but due to hangovers that day it didn't get stashed away as planned. Mom declared it his from then on. When he moved to Texas in 1996 it came with him. When he moved back to Wisconsin in 1997, it went with him. Many girlfriends thought it was ugly and he just told them that they couldn't use it then. When he was in a coma in 2003 I didn't have to ask which ICU room he was in, his woobie stood out like a sore thumb. When we shared an apartment in 2004 because he was still doing chemo, it was the only thing that stopped his shakes. Anytime he napped, it was wrapped around him. It moved from place to place with him. In his last months, it was what he demanded to be covered with. I had to promise to wash it and dry it and bring it back with in 2 hours. When he took his last breath, it was covering him. When I crawled into the hospital bed next to him after he passed, I used the edge of it to soak up my tears. It was his. Now… now it's Mom's. And I will never say its not. It’s a way to have him with her every time she is under it.

That is why I won't let her claim mine. This is something that for the rest of my life will remind me of her. Every time I snuggle up in it, I'm getting a hug from her. Whenever we lived far apart and I was sick, it was my woobie I wanted because mom wasn't there to hold me. (I'm a HUGE baby when I'm sick- I admit it!) Right now as I type this, my woobie is wrapped tightly around me- it covers my head and my feet. It gives me comfort, it soaks up tears, it stops the shakes, it is love. It is a tangible connection to her that will never be broken even when she is in heaven. It is mine.

This is Tony's woobie.... That's Tony, my nephew and my bull terrier Petey. Two of the three in this photo now reside in heaven and watch over my nephew. 

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