Vesta’s Boudoir

This shop is not your grandma’s quilt shop!

Sometimes it was twice a year; sometimes she would skip a year altogether.  Today was the day.  After helping Auntie Vera with her tasks as head of the Federation of Music Clubs all day yesterday, Vesta had a day in bed.

Most men and some roommates had worried about this day in bed over the years.  But Auntie understood.  Auntie Vera had been the queen of her crew for as long as Vesta could remember.

Vera really existed and here she is! This card is available here: AND Vera’s whole story is written by her daughter Jackie, here:

Auntie Vera had been a whirlwind; she led or finished parades, hosted the biggest events, had a family of her own, always worked, had taken a special interest in Vesta as nobody else had.

And occasionally she spent an entire day in bed; when she popped back out Vera moved all the time again, smiling and organizing whatever appeared in her path.

This shop of vintage treasures is a joy!

She took care of Vesta now,

bringing her breakfast in bed

complete with

a silver spoon

and a wild flower.



About AngelaLTodd

I am queen of the helicopter parents. But there are enough of us that we are becoming a social problem. Here’s my story. Thing 1 was coming, they couldn’t stop him, it was only 24 weeks and 3 days. Someone asked: should we try to save him? Well, yes. Yes! Ten days later, a team of doctors closed the door behind us to explain brain bleeds, sepsis, meningitis. Shall we pull the plug? Well, no. No! Babydaddy laid hands on him every day, massaged him when he was ready. For the three months he was in intensive care, and the three weeks at an intermediate hospital, I would get up in the night and pump breast milk, thinking about my baby across town. Babydaddy delivered it every morning, earning the name “milkman.” It was funny. We had every therapy going for as long as possible: early intervention, the intermediate unit, private therapies. Terms multiplied: sensory processing dysfunction, sensory integration problems, orally defensive, auditory sensitivities, comprehensive developmental delay, cognitive function impairment, retinopathy of prematurity. He did occupational therapy, physical therapy, speech therapy, play therapy; we consulted with a neurologist, school psychologist, wraparound service provider, developmental specialist. He worked with an occupational therapist for a year and a half to tolerate teeth and hair brushing. Not surprisingly, parenting didn’t feel natural. I learned to read to my baby watching Phyllis, our physical therapist. Voices, commentary, labeling colors, counting… she was very good! Merging professional research skills with my genetic propensity for silliness (mom was class clown, dad’s distantly related to Lucille Ball), my mothering style came together. Eventually. But I still channel Phyllis on occasion. Thing 2 was full term. They are complete opposites; she is a sensory seeker with a wild sense of adventure and an inventive sense of fashion. Keeping them both busy and happy is an exasperating and sweet challenge. I still believe that every day can be fun and educational while reinforcing kids' boundaries. I’m on a mission to save us helicopter parents from ourselves. No more bubble wrapped kids and guilty parents. Let’s teach them coping skills. Let’s get fun.
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