Treasure From Home

When I moved to Colorado, my parents decided that it was time to clean out their attic and the storage unit that they had. Good for them -- and better for me & my brother since we wouldn't have to do it. Or so I thought.......until the day a random box was delivered by my mailman.

It started off small -- little magnets or angel pins. Cookbooks and recipes. Books in general. But then the boxes got bigger and their contents more puzzling.

One box had juice boxes, 4 cans of ravioli, a box of Kashi breakfast bars and no note, no letter, no explanation. I called my parents.

Me - Really? Juice boxes, ravioli, and breakfast bars? Seriously mom & dad -- we do have food here in Colorado.

Dad - Well, it was leftover from your visit with the girls, so we thought we'd send it back to you. And the breakfast bars are for Nani (who calls them "Grandpap's cookies)


Another box contained a pair of slippers.

Me - Why did you send me a box of slippers?

Mom - Well, when you were here, Mitzi kept sniffing them, so I just sent them out for her.

I just didn't have the heart to tell her that Mitzi was just sniffing them to decide if she wanted to eat them.  She wasn't going to wear them for God's sake -- she has paws -- not size 7 feet.

Another box had a box of Splenda, a small jar of instant coffee, a box of oatmeal, and a container of Charmain wipes. I knew this box was from my dad right away. Turns out that he was going to be visiting in a few days and shipped out a couple things that he would "need" -- again, like he couldn't find that stuff here in Colorado. Leave it up to my dad to send HIMSELF a care package!

Little by little, my folks were cleaning and consolidating -- and sending it all to me. Somehow, the day we signed the mortgage papers became the day they thought our house became a satellite storage facility for them.

But, the crowning glory was the day I came home from one of my mommy-running errands and saw the box the size of a refridgerator on my front lawn. (Ok, so I exaggerate a bit -- it was the size of an air conditioner). As soon as I saw the familiar handwriting on the label - I did my patented eye roll and "put out" sigh and dragged the box in the house. Nani was immediately at my heels -- "What's that mommy?" "Is it for me mommy?" "What did Bubbe & Grandpap send me?"

(My parents have my daughter trained better than Pavlov's dogs. Any time the mailman brings a box, they know it contains something for them from Bubbe & Grandpap -- whether it's a toy or a can of ravioli.  I've started telling her that it's not from Bubbe or Grandpap, but the garbage man -- which isn't so far from the truth!)

I open the box and find myself staring at 16 years worth of my dance costumes. Yep -- my parents packed up every single dance costume I ever wore (and that my mother saved) and sent the whole kit and kaboodle to me -- under the guise of "Oh, Nani would just LOVE to play dress up with these!" What they didn't know was just THAT VERY MORNING I JUST GOT RID OF TWO LARGE GARBAGE BAGS OF STUFF THAT THE GIRLS DON'T PLAY WITH ANYMORE!

Another phone call home.....

Dad - Hello?

Me - I got the box.

Dad - Chuckling

Me - Slick move sending it out without telling me

Dad - More chuckling

(I hear my mother in the background - "She got the box, didn't she?)

More sighing and eye-rolling.

In their defense though -- Nani did get a kick out of all the costumes and loves to play dress up with them. But geez - give me some warning next time.

And when they don't have boxes to send, that's when the envelopes come. Chock fill of newspaper articles and clippings with my mom's handwriting in the margin. The article about cleaning your garbage disposal ("Thought you could use this! Love, Mom). The clipping about washing cloth diapers. (Really handy since I use disposables). The picture of the dog cut out of their local paper because it looked like Mitzi. The article about savings accounts and stocks from my dad. The Consumer Reports magazines and the articles about diabetes. (All my dad's way of subtly telling me I'm 1) financially irresponsible, 2) uneducated when it comes to big purchases, and 3) a potential diabetic)

Daddy's getting sneaky though -- and is now sending me stuff through email. Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky!

(Dad - I know you're reading this -- so know that I do appreciate all that stuff and read every single thing!)

Really, I love my parents to bits and in the end, do appreciate these little gestures. If I can't poke a little fun at them, what good are they?

Now I'm off to check my mailbox to see what treasure from home are waiting for me!