"I miss Mor-Mor!"

These were the words spilling out of my little girls tear streaked face last night as we were going to bed. She had moped around for about 30 minutes saying her day just wasn't going good. I had assumed she meant it was bedtime and she did not want to go. She started out by saying she had something to tell us. She then relayed the story of the little boy in school who was talking to her and got her in trouble with the teacher. I tried to make light of the situation as it was seeming to upset her so much. We talked a little about it and then said our prayers. She was not happy but seemed content. So, I sent them off to bed. Next thing I know she is coming back into our room. I am just about to give her the "just go to bed" speech when I look up and see tears welling up in her eyes. I still think she is upset about school. Then as the tears start rolling down her face this statement, "I miss Mor-Mor" comes tumbling out.

I can not tell you how heartbreaking this was to me. We have witnessed this several times since March. Things will be rocking along and suddenly things are turned upside down. We have all cried on our way to school. Usually I fight these very sad moments off by talking about mom and how much she loved them both. We tell stories about what she used to love to do with them and for them. This works very well most days. This time though I pulled her into my lap and began my usual reminiscing when I remembered a small box in my closet. I went and go the box and we opened it up to find all sorts of mom's and grandma's things. I put on a pair of reading glasses and asked them to guess who's they were. Suddenly I hear "Mor-Mor's" from two smiling children. We pull out several pairs of glasses, passports, hankies, a bracelet, and pins. The more I pull out the more they smile. We tell several stories and then they trot off to bed.

I am telling the same stories over and over. One of their favorite stories is about mom taking them to church on Wednesday night and taking them to McDonald's afterward for ice cream. She would take them in and let them play and buy ice cream on the way home so they would have more time to play. They were really to little to eat ice cream in the car. They would be covered in ice cream and require another bath. (They usually had one before church.) Then on top of the chaos they would be all wound up from excitement and sugar!

Now, this is where I am going to ask for your help. I would love for you all to send me stories about mom. I would love to have new material to tell the kids and they would love to know new things. You may put them under the comment section, if you are not signed up to blogspot as a user, you may post in as an anonymous blogger, just sign the story with your name like you would a letter so we will know who wrote it. Since I moderate all comments (we had some weird entries before), you can tell me if you do not want them to be posted. Otherwise I plan to post these for everyone to read. You may also send them to me in the mail or by email. I appreciate your cooperation in advance.