Monday, April 13, 2009


As a child Saturdays were a day that I both looked forward to and dreaded.
We used to start the day off by thoroughly cleaning the whole house. Mom would give dusting cloths to John and me and we would dust everything we could reach. Then we'd each be given a wet sponge and we'd help Mom wash the windows, what fun it was seeing who could make their sponge squeak the loudest against the glass. After that Mom would let us sit in Daddy's recliner and look at picture books while she swept and mopped the floors. That used to be a real treat as it was the only day we were allowed to sit in Daddy's chair and the books also were saved for that event.
Once the floors were dry though the dreaded part came. It was time to do my hair. I had very long hair that were braided and put into a bun and once a week Mom would take them down, wash, and re braid them so they would be fresh and neat for Sunday.
We had a tall bar stool that we referred to as the "braiding chair." Mom would set it in the kitchen and call me and I would hop up on it. She had a shoebox full of special little toys I could play with while she did my hair. She would undo my braids and start brushing my hair. I would try not to cry, but after a week without anything done to them they always had lots of snarls and hurt dreadfully. She would sing funny little songs and tell stories to try to keep my mind off of the pain, but it was never long before I was howling. After the snarls were all out I would lay on the counter while Mom washed my hair and then I had to go through that dreadful brushing again and be braided. After she was done I would hop off the chair, put the box of toys away, and rejoice in the fact that it would be a whole week before I have to go through that again.
Now was when the real fun began. It was time to bake pie. John and I would each push a chair beside Mom and watch as she measured the flour and made the pie dough it was fun watching her roll it out and fit it carefully in the pan and then watch her fingers fairly fly around the edge leaving a trail of neat little braids , but the best part of all was when she was done with her pie and she would let me have the remaining dough to roll out.
I would carefully roll it out and then cut it into pieces and spread strawberry jam on it. Then Mom would roll them up and bake them for us until they were a nice golden brown. Then we'd have to wait until they cooled off a little before we could eat them. They were delicious and would almost melt in your mouth. The perfect ending to a Saturday!

That is something I do with our children too. This was Rosebud's creation on Saturday.
The children love them, but somewhere with the passing years I lost my craving for them . They don't taste quite as good as when I made them as a little girl.
And be assured there is no crying when we do hair. Since we do it everyday we don't have that problem.


  1. Wow, that brings back memories. I didn't have to go through the torture you did ;), but every Saturday as a little kid, we would all go to Grandma's farm, and Grandma would re-do my mom's hair. Mom would wash it before we left, leaving it long (the only time I saw her hair down), and Grandma would use about 500 hairpins to put it all up in lots of rolls and buns. A bee-hive hairdo. Every Saturday. It was fun for me as a kid, to visit the grandparents farm. Still today, at 78, my grandma only takes her hair down and fixes it every other week. Sounds gross, but she's always so clean and sassy looking. :)
    Thanks for the memories!

  2. What a beautiful blog! Thanks for coming by mine (Goodbye, Martha.) I look forward to reading more about you!

    God bless!
    LW @

  3. Wow, I adore your blog. Thanks for stopping by mine! One of my favorite authors is Beverly Lewis because she writes stories about the Amish. I think there is something so appealing about a life without all of the distractions of t.v.'s, phones, internet etc. I am looking forward to reading more about your life!

  4. Oh how I am enjoying reading your blog! I have daughters and granddaughters..the washing and brushing of their beautiful long hair has been dreaded by the one "on both sides of the brush!"
    I loved the story about the making of the jam and pie crust with your Mom..and how you do this for your very special!
    Your stories encourage others to remember their good times!
    I look forward to "hearing" more!

  5. I know I'm replying so late, but hey, I just found you today! :) When my mom made pies, she used the leftover dough to roll out, spread on butter, sugar, and cinnamon, and roll up, baking until tender and delicious cinnamony pie crusty goodness! Reading about you getting your hair washed reminded me of how growing up, my mother had us lay down on the ironing board, which was placed up against the sink. There, she'd have our heads hanging over, held by one of her hands, while her other hand helped distribute the water through our hair, then the soap, and finally the rinse water. Wonderful memories! <3

  6. This brings back memories for me about the washing of hair. Lying on the kitchen counter and Mom scrubbing our heads. And she used the leftover pie dough to make little cinnamon treats, with cinnamon, butter and sugar rolled up in the pie crust. So yummy.


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