It is one of my most prized material possessions. It is the last blanket my Grandmother ever made. It was gifted to me, after her death, by my Aunt and I have cherished this blanket for so, so many years.
The best part of it is it is made out of scraps of cloth that my Grandmother used to make clothing for her, my Grandfather and various family members. I can see rectangles of the fabric she used to make two of my favorite dresses when I was in third grade. My Grandpa's shirt, her blouse.
To know the woman I loved so dearly actually once touched all of these pieces brings me a quiet joy.
I call it a "comfort" because that is what is to me. Comfort.
It has always held a place of honor in our home. It is merely twin sized, but has always remained on our bed because, as I said, it is one of my most prized possessions. The kids have always known how special it is and that they aren't to touch it.
Except. . .when they are sick.
It's why we call it the "Sick Quilt".
We all believe that this blanket has healing powers.
One of them has the sniffles? The flu? A sore throat? A concussion [looking at you Wallene]?
It comes off my bed and is wrapped around one of our ailing offspring.
Nothing makes them feel better than having this simple comfort snuggling them.
It's the next best thing to a Motrin, Vicks and a Momma's head rub.
My children covet this blanket.
I think sometimes they over dramatize a cold just to get this quilt on their bed at night.
Here's the problem I am having right now.
I have recently been updating my will.
I guess it's what you do in my situation. No apologies, it is what it is. While I don't have a lot to leave my children, I do have a few things that need strong consideration and I have had to decide who gets what.
I don't want tears after I am gone and I don't want Steven to have to decide.
I do what I can. And actually, I thought this was going to be easy, being that I don't have a lot.
No one knows this little tidbit of our lives, but our two youngest, Squirrel and Wallene, are named for my Grandmother. The seamstress of the "Sick Quilt".
So I should pick between these two, shouldn't I? And you would think this would be easy.
This is how the conversation has been going in our house lately regarding this blanket.
Bear with me. I do find it truly funny, but frustrating at the same time.
Mom: "Okay, Squirrel you get all of my jewelry, with one wedding band going to Wallene. And Wallene you can have Ozcarz."
Squirrel and Wallene completely ignoring the "riches" I just bequeathed them, immediately responded, in unison:
"Who gets the Sick Quilt?"
Mom: "Huh? The Quilt?"
Squirrel: "Yeah, Mom. Who gets the Quilt?"
Mom: "I. . .um, I don't know. Why? Who wants it?"
Girls in Unison, again -loudly- "I DO!"
Seeing their reactions I was a bit surprised. Who knew?
In good Momma fashion and realizing a cage match might be in my daughters' future I tried to come up with a solution.
Mom: "No, no. Wait a minute. You can't both have it. Let me think a minute."
So, I did. For a few days.
Unable to sew any longer I decided I would hire a seamstress to cut the quilt in half and make them each their own by adding additional borders and such.
You would've thought I suggested cutting the dog in half.
"No Momma. You can't do that. It won't be the same. We would only get half way better with half a quilt."
[And yes, they actually argued the "half way better" angle with me.]
Okay, so now I can't divide it up. What to do, what to do?
You have to know that they are both being entirely generous to the other and saying "No, no. . .give it to her. No give it to her." They aren't being greedy, I swear, but you can see that each wants it as much as the other, but to keep me sane, they try to be as magnanimous as they can to the other.
I told them to let me think on it a few days and I would let them know.
I finally settled on the sharing of the whole quilt.
Six months with Wallene and six months with Squirrel each year.
Okay, okay. I know. Bad idea.
Steven kicked me under the table on that one. ::giggle::
He knows that as well as our daughters get along, and they do, he wasn't having any part of that negotiation come June and December each year.
Finally, I called Squirrel at school.
As she is the oldest of the two I decided to tell her my decision first.
Mom: "Honey, I have decided on the Sick Quilt, okay?"
Squirrel, tentatively: "Yes?"
Mom: "I am going to be buried with it."
My darling, beautiful daughter, not missing a beat, replied:
"Oh, okay Mom, but to be honest my resume is shaping up pretty nicely at this point and I don't think "Biologist Grave Robber" is going to look too good. Do you?"
I lost it, laughing.
Um. I am out of ideas.
What do you have for me?
xo and flipsides, help me out here Tadpoles. Janine