Dear Kayla,
In just under a month you will be 13 years old. THIRTEEN!!! A thousand years ago, you might have been engaged by now. A hundred years ago, you might be at the end of your education. If we were Jewish, we'd be planning a celebration to mark your entry into adulthood. But as a middle class, young Christian woman in the midwestern United States, you will be celebrating this milestone with a simple but fun party with about 20 of your closest friends.
As we near this celebration, I feel the need to tell you what a gift you are to Daddy and me. And to Blake; although, we know he'd never admit that. I cannot, however, begin the story of YOU without first putting into words a little bit about my introduction to motherhood. In otherwords, the story of your brother. I will keep it brief.
When Daddy and I decided we wanted, needed, HAD TO HAVE A BABY in our lives, it took about 6 months before we learned Blake was on the way. According to our doctor I had a "textbook pregnancy" and, after a difficult labor and delivery, a baby boy who was "perfect from head to toe." We had very little money in those days, but we were so madly in love with each other and our little boy that life was just plain good. When Blake was about 18 months old (a little less) we decided the time was right for another little one in the house. This was no gradual decision making process. There was no long discussions about the right timing. It was as if I heard a little bell in my head...well actually my heart; "PING! I MUST HAVE A SECOND BABY...RIGHT NOW!" Soon I found out I was pregnant again.
Except none of the pregnancy tests would believe me. Three pregnancy tests told me NO, but my body kept telling me YES. It was at this time (January of '93) that Blake became very sick with a stomach virus (Rotovirus) and ended up in the hospital because he became dehydrated. He was 18 months old. During one of those nights, as I sat by my baby boy's hospital bed, watching him sleep and keeping an eye on his IV's; I lost the baby that was to be his sibling. I was in incredible pain, physically, and was very confused. Remember, I wasn't supposed to be pregnant. What was all this pain? What was happening? The next morning, I called our doctor and he had me come in so he check me over. Ironically, the pregnancy test he gave me at that time came back positive. You know how sweet our doctor is. He called me on the phone and asked me to come to his office. He looked me in the eye and said "This is not news I could give you over the phone. Your test was positive but I'm afraid you've already lost the baby."
I had a very sick little boy to take care of and I was very confused about the tricks my body had played on me. When I WAS pregnant, the tests had said I wasn't. When I WASN'T pregnant anymore, the test said I was. But God's timing is always right. It took several weeks for Blake to be completely well again, so I was not able to dwell on my disappointment and heartache; I was busy taking care of Blake. By the time he was well again, the emotional pain had dulled quite a bit. Just in time to consider having another baby....
More Later...
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
I'M SO GLAD WE'RE WHERE WE ARE....
Yesterday we went to a little engagement party. Our dear friends' son had planned to propose to his girlfriend and all the parents knew about it ahead of time; so we were invited to be at the house after he had popped the question to wish the young love birds best wishes.
They had gone out to dinner and then he took her to the park right across the street from our house, where his friends had decorated the gazebo with lights and candles and had music playing. There he dropped to his knee and asked her to be his bride. Then they came back to his parents' house where we were all waiting to wish them well, admire the ring, and hear the story. We were honored to be invited. I hope I can do something like that when it is my children.
On the way home, since the park is by our house, Paul and I stopped and cleaned up their decorations. Their friends had done a beautiful job.
As we were getting ready for bed and talking about the fun evening, I told Paul I was thrilled for them and thought it was exciting to see them start this phase of life. But then I said "But I'm so glad we're here and not at that beginning phase." He laughed and said "Me too."
Being engaged was fun; although our wedding plans did not go well. We had lots of things go wrong with the planning. The worst of which was my bridesmaids' dresses coming in the wrong color, with no time left to re-order. I had planned on periwinkle, and they came in lavender. My sister had just had a lavender wedding the previous year. I did not want a lavender wedding. I vividly recall standing at a pay phone in Little Rock sobbing to my sister in Dallas, "MMMMM-My dressss-sss-ss-es came in the wrong COLLLLLLLLOR!!!!!!" There was nothing to do but have a lavender wedding.
Then the wedding shop where I had purchased my dress closed. Not for the day - forever. Without doing my alterations. I would strongly suggest a woman NEVER watch while her dress is being altered in any way by a sweet little old lady in her home town. She did a fine job, but it is not a process one should watch. I remember getting light-headed and thinking "what the...?" as I watched her shove a crochet needle through the seam of my train so she could make the bustle loop. She just shoved it right through like she was testing to see if a pork roast was done. Within minutes, though, she had crocheted a beautiful, lacy little loop that held my train up . Then she had to sew the button on the train AND take in the bodice. I left before she started on that.....
Then one of our groomsmen cancelled on us TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING because he had qualified for a national college track meet, which was being held on our wedding weekend. So Paul had to call a cousin and say "UM....I know I hadn't asked you to be in the wedding, but..."
Of course the wedding itself went off without any problems. After all, what could possibly have gone wrong after the hellacious year I had endured planning the thing?
On the day I got married, I thought I knew what it meant to be in love. Now I KNOW what it means to be in love. Funny thing is, as we approach our 20th anniversary I don't know if I can actually put into words what it means. But I know I have it. I know I am not happy every day. Who is? But I am joyful and content and comfortable. And so very blessed. I am secure in my friendship, my partnership, my love and my committment with Paul. We have had our rough patches. If you know someone who has been married this long and has NOT had rough patches, please introduce me to this unicorn- like person. As I planned my wedding, I pictured my future. I pictured babies, a perfect home, a perfectly balanced checkbook to go along with our ever-growing savings account, storybook relationships with in-laws. I pictured myself always a size 5.
I did not plan on the struggles that truly bind you to your spouse. I didn't plan on job changes, and money worries; illnesses and death; family struggles and estrangements. I didn't plan on days, weeks, months where we lose track of each other for whatever reasons. I most certainly didn't plan on two miscarriages that turned my world upside down. I didn't plan on staying awake at night worrying about my children or dreading my husband's next trip overseas. I didn't plan on the wind being knocked out of me when he was in London during one of the subway bombings there. I didn't plan on having to help my mom out financially for two years. I'm sure Paul CERTAINLY didn't plan on that but he did it without complaint. There are so many things a new bride doesn't plan on.
Our young, totally-in-love minds and hearts can't go there when we are first starting out. And it's a good thing. Because those are the types of things that would seem insurmountable if we were seeing them ahead of us. But as we are going through them with our friend, our lover, our partner; they're manageable. And as we are looking at them behind us, well, they're just stepping stones. Some are more slippery than others, but we manage to get across all of them, and we feel somewhat victorious when we can plant our feet on solid ground again after the latest struggle. Especially when the pair of feet beside us belongs to the one you walked back up that aisle with however many years ago.
Not to take away from the joy of a new engagement and the excitment of being newly married, and not to sound jaded about new love. It is a beautiful time of life; a time of life I hope my children experience one day. But it leads to something even better.
Yes, I'm so glad we're where we are....
They had gone out to dinner and then he took her to the park right across the street from our house, where his friends had decorated the gazebo with lights and candles and had music playing. There he dropped to his knee and asked her to be his bride. Then they came back to his parents' house where we were all waiting to wish them well, admire the ring, and hear the story. We were honored to be invited. I hope I can do something like that when it is my children.
On the way home, since the park is by our house, Paul and I stopped and cleaned up their decorations. Their friends had done a beautiful job.
As we were getting ready for bed and talking about the fun evening, I told Paul I was thrilled for them and thought it was exciting to see them start this phase of life. But then I said "But I'm so glad we're here and not at that beginning phase." He laughed and said "Me too."
Being engaged was fun; although our wedding plans did not go well. We had lots of things go wrong with the planning. The worst of which was my bridesmaids' dresses coming in the wrong color, with no time left to re-order. I had planned on periwinkle, and they came in lavender. My sister had just had a lavender wedding the previous year. I did not want a lavender wedding. I vividly recall standing at a pay phone in Little Rock sobbing to my sister in Dallas, "MMMMM-My dressss-sss-ss-es came in the wrong COLLLLLLLLOR!!!!!!" There was nothing to do but have a lavender wedding.
Then the wedding shop where I had purchased my dress closed. Not for the day - forever. Without doing my alterations. I would strongly suggest a woman NEVER watch while her dress is being altered in any way by a sweet little old lady in her home town. She did a fine job, but it is not a process one should watch. I remember getting light-headed and thinking "what the...?" as I watched her shove a crochet needle through the seam of my train so she could make the bustle loop. She just shoved it right through like she was testing to see if a pork roast was done. Within minutes, though, she had crocheted a beautiful, lacy little loop that held my train up . Then she had to sew the button on the train AND take in the bodice. I left before she started on that.....
Then one of our groomsmen cancelled on us TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING because he had qualified for a national college track meet, which was being held on our wedding weekend. So Paul had to call a cousin and say "UM....I know I hadn't asked you to be in the wedding, but..."
Of course the wedding itself went off without any problems. After all, what could possibly have gone wrong after the hellacious year I had endured planning the thing?
On the day I got married, I thought I knew what it meant to be in love. Now I KNOW what it means to be in love. Funny thing is, as we approach our 20th anniversary I don't know if I can actually put into words what it means. But I know I have it. I know I am not happy every day. Who is? But I am joyful and content and comfortable. And so very blessed. I am secure in my friendship, my partnership, my love and my committment with Paul. We have had our rough patches. If you know someone who has been married this long and has NOT had rough patches, please introduce me to this unicorn- like person. As I planned my wedding, I pictured my future. I pictured babies, a perfect home, a perfectly balanced checkbook to go along with our ever-growing savings account, storybook relationships with in-laws. I pictured myself always a size 5.
I did not plan on the struggles that truly bind you to your spouse. I didn't plan on job changes, and money worries; illnesses and death; family struggles and estrangements. I didn't plan on days, weeks, months where we lose track of each other for whatever reasons. I most certainly didn't plan on two miscarriages that turned my world upside down. I didn't plan on staying awake at night worrying about my children or dreading my husband's next trip overseas. I didn't plan on the wind being knocked out of me when he was in London during one of the subway bombings there. I didn't plan on having to help my mom out financially for two years. I'm sure Paul CERTAINLY didn't plan on that but he did it without complaint. There are so many things a new bride doesn't plan on.
Our young, totally-in-love minds and hearts can't go there when we are first starting out. And it's a good thing. Because those are the types of things that would seem insurmountable if we were seeing them ahead of us. But as we are going through them with our friend, our lover, our partner; they're manageable. And as we are looking at them behind us, well, they're just stepping stones. Some are more slippery than others, but we manage to get across all of them, and we feel somewhat victorious when we can plant our feet on solid ground again after the latest struggle. Especially when the pair of feet beside us belongs to the one you walked back up that aisle with however many years ago.
Not to take away from the joy of a new engagement and the excitment of being newly married, and not to sound jaded about new love. It is a beautiful time of life; a time of life I hope my children experience one day. But it leads to something even better.
Yes, I'm so glad we're where we are....
Thursday, March 15, 2007
THIS HERE TOWN MAY BE SMALL, BUT WE'S EDUCATED AND WE'S NICE
Last week our boys basketball team won the state championship. This, just months after we won the state football championship. Some of the boys were key players on BOTH teams. We are only the 2nd school in 100 years to win both titles.
This has generated much publicity locally; and much discussion about these boys and our school district. Let me just say one thing about these boys. These are not a bunch of dumb jocks. Yes, they are receiving publicity because of their athletic achievements, but they are just all around good kids. One of the boys earned a perfect score on his ACT and will be going to Princeton University on an academic scholarship in the fall. He also sings beautifully, as we witnessed at the High School Christmas Concert. His best friend earned one point less on the ACT and will be attending college on a combined full-ride scholarship - his athletic offers combined with academic offers have made it possible for him to attend college without financial worries. He is also a tremendous young man who has been an outstanding role model for our son. Another of the star players is attending a nearby Christian college and plans a career in a ministry field. Yet another signed on AS A JUNIOR to attend a college in Chicago and is a humble, respectful young man as well.
Yet we continually hear comments about this small town and how surprising it is that these young people have accomplished anything. Some examples: "I never thought I'd see the day when that town would win anything." "You certainly don't expect a kid from those towns to go to an Ivy League University." And my kids occasionally hear (from people in bigger "cities") that they are hicks because of the small town in which they live.
Last weekend, I was tempted to reply to one of these remarks "Well, once we added that second room to our old school house, we just really started taking off." Paul said I should have said "Ever since we got indoor plumbing, the whole world has opened up to us." But I didn't say anything. I just scrunched my brow and thought "What are you talking about?"
Enough is enough! Why are people surprised when small town folks do well? I daresay we have some of the smartest people in the world living in our little community; surgeons, dentist, biologists, finance professionals. In the ten years we've been here, our school district has never been ranked lower than second in state testing. And the people we know here who have not received that higher education? I'd trust them in an instant to care for my children. I know, without a doubt, I could call them up any time of the day or night and tell them I need help, and they'd be there for me. I know, because it's happened. They are just good decent families doing their best to raise good decent kids and enjoy life along the way. And they are succeeding.
So you folks who live in the "cities" surrounding our "villages"(even though none of you are reading this) give us a break. Don't tell us you're surprised when one of us has done well. Don't act surprised when you realize we're raising good, intelligent kids. If you can't say "That's Great!" Don't say anything at all.
Cuz, we small town folks, well, we ain't got much culture or nothin, but we's shore 'nuf happy here.
This has generated much publicity locally; and much discussion about these boys and our school district. Let me just say one thing about these boys. These are not a bunch of dumb jocks. Yes, they are receiving publicity because of their athletic achievements, but they are just all around good kids. One of the boys earned a perfect score on his ACT and will be going to Princeton University on an academic scholarship in the fall. He also sings beautifully, as we witnessed at the High School Christmas Concert. His best friend earned one point less on the ACT and will be attending college on a combined full-ride scholarship - his athletic offers combined with academic offers have made it possible for him to attend college without financial worries. He is also a tremendous young man who has been an outstanding role model for our son. Another of the star players is attending a nearby Christian college and plans a career in a ministry field. Yet another signed on AS A JUNIOR to attend a college in Chicago and is a humble, respectful young man as well.
Yet we continually hear comments about this small town and how surprising it is that these young people have accomplished anything. Some examples: "I never thought I'd see the day when that town would win anything." "You certainly don't expect a kid from those towns to go to an Ivy League University." And my kids occasionally hear (from people in bigger "cities") that they are hicks because of the small town in which they live.
Last weekend, I was tempted to reply to one of these remarks "Well, once we added that second room to our old school house, we just really started taking off." Paul said I should have said "Ever since we got indoor plumbing, the whole world has opened up to us." But I didn't say anything. I just scrunched my brow and thought "What are you talking about?"
Enough is enough! Why are people surprised when small town folks do well? I daresay we have some of the smartest people in the world living in our little community; surgeons, dentist, biologists, finance professionals. In the ten years we've been here, our school district has never been ranked lower than second in state testing. And the people we know here who have not received that higher education? I'd trust them in an instant to care for my children. I know, without a doubt, I could call them up any time of the day or night and tell them I need help, and they'd be there for me. I know, because it's happened. They are just good decent families doing their best to raise good decent kids and enjoy life along the way. And they are succeeding.
So you folks who live in the "cities" surrounding our "villages"(even though none of you are reading this) give us a break. Don't tell us you're surprised when one of us has done well. Don't act surprised when you realize we're raising good, intelligent kids. If you can't say "That's Great!" Don't say anything at all.
Cuz, we small town folks, well, we ain't got much culture or nothin, but we's shore 'nuf happy here.
Monday, March 12, 2007
BED TIME WILL BE DIFFERENT TONIGHT....
That was my thought as I drove to the high school to pick Blake up from weights.
After a quick grocery stop on the way home from work, I had planned to take a walk outside since the weather is so beautiful today. But I got home and had a a message that Blake would need a ride home from weights - "I decided to stay for weights and I'll need a ride home at 4:30.." We later had a talk about planning ahead and not assuming that I'd be available if he hasn't cleared his plans with me, but I digress. Then Kayla got a call from a friend and they decided to ride bikes to the library. After 30 minutes of planning, discussing cell phones, and getting a bike down from the ceiling hooks in the garage, I told myself "I AM TAKING A WALK TODAY, DOGGONE IT..." So off I went.
I could almost feel the relief in the air as people were walking, jogging, biking, or roller blading on the bike paths. The baseball diamond was busy with the high school team. The softball diamond was full of girls. Kids were out kicking soccer balls. Several dogs were being treated to a spring walk. It was almost as if we were all saying "WE MADE IT." We made it through the December ice storm that left some of us without power for days. We made it through the Valentine's day blizzard that left us stranded in our homes for 2 days or more. We made it. Winter did a job on us, but we've made it to spring. We may have a bit of bad weather yet. You never know in Illinois, but now we have hope.
March is so interesting in Illinois. It is a month of paradox. One day you'll need a sweater, the next you could go barefoot. On my walk today, I saw a few Robins. I noticed my daffodils are coming up. I also noticed several small piles of snow and ice left over from our February blizzard. Almost a month has past, and we've had several days of warm weather, and still the snow remains in spots.
And now we have extra daylight too. The near 70 degree weather has made us all rush out to enjoy the warmth. And there are children playing. And laughing (I love hearing kids laugh from across the block) And they are wearing shorts; showing skinny little arms and legs, still pale from hiding beneath winter sweaters and boots. And those children will not want to come in tonight. Moms and Dads will have to call several times. Nobody will want to go in for a bath when it's still light out. Nobody will want to crawl into bed and think about school tomorrow when the weather is this beautiful. No, things will not be easy for moms and dads tonight.
Bed time will definitely be different tonight.
After a quick grocery stop on the way home from work, I had planned to take a walk outside since the weather is so beautiful today. But I got home and had a a message that Blake would need a ride home from weights - "I decided to stay for weights and I'll need a ride home at 4:30.." We later had a talk about planning ahead and not assuming that I'd be available if he hasn't cleared his plans with me, but I digress. Then Kayla got a call from a friend and they decided to ride bikes to the library. After 30 minutes of planning, discussing cell phones, and getting a bike down from the ceiling hooks in the garage, I told myself "I AM TAKING A WALK TODAY, DOGGONE IT..." So off I went.
I could almost feel the relief in the air as people were walking, jogging, biking, or roller blading on the bike paths. The baseball diamond was busy with the high school team. The softball diamond was full of girls. Kids were out kicking soccer balls. Several dogs were being treated to a spring walk. It was almost as if we were all saying "WE MADE IT." We made it through the December ice storm that left some of us without power for days. We made it through the Valentine's day blizzard that left us stranded in our homes for 2 days or more. We made it. Winter did a job on us, but we've made it to spring. We may have a bit of bad weather yet. You never know in Illinois, but now we have hope.
March is so interesting in Illinois. It is a month of paradox. One day you'll need a sweater, the next you could go barefoot. On my walk today, I saw a few Robins. I noticed my daffodils are coming up. I also noticed several small piles of snow and ice left over from our February blizzard. Almost a month has past, and we've had several days of warm weather, and still the snow remains in spots.
And now we have extra daylight too. The near 70 degree weather has made us all rush out to enjoy the warmth. And there are children playing. And laughing (I love hearing kids laugh from across the block) And they are wearing shorts; showing skinny little arms and legs, still pale from hiding beneath winter sweaters and boots. And those children will not want to come in tonight. Moms and Dads will have to call several times. Nobody will want to go in for a bath when it's still light out. Nobody will want to crawl into bed and think about school tomorrow when the weather is this beautiful. No, things will not be easy for moms and dads tonight.
Bed time will definitely be different tonight.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
REMEMBERING THE MAGIC
Thursday was a little bit hectic. The kids got out of school an hour early, so they got home soon after I did. Paul also came home early because he was going to be heading to Missouri that night for a funeral the next morning. But first we had to go to Parent Teacher Conferences at both the kids' schools. They started at 4:30, so we headed up to be at the high school right at that time.
At our kids' schools the conferences are held in the gym (for Kayla) and the cafetorium (for Blake) each teacher has a table and you stand in line to talk to them about your child. I do not know a better way to do it, really, since the kids each have 7 teachers. At least this way, we stay in the same room and don't have to wander all over the building meeting in 7 different rooms for each of our kids. Having said that, it still can be a long evening. We were at the schools for two hours, and then we had to rush home so Paul could get on the road.
For the third night in a row, we ate fast food for dinner. To top it all off, when I lifted the bun on my big mac to fix all the lettuce that was falling out, I noticed I only had one beef patty. So I said "HEY!! I only got one all beef patty. A big mac is supposed to have two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun." Paul laughed but the kids just looked at me as though I'd grown a second head. They obviously did not grow up in the 80's. Also, Blake's friend Drew was with us, and he also had a big mac. His big mac had 2 all beef patties. So throughout dinner I'd look at him and say things like "I bet that is really good with two hamburger patties." "So...Drew... how is that WHOLE big mac?" And he said "I'm sorry....if I hadn't already taken a bite, you could have this one." I do not often eat a big mac, and I was really looking forward to this one. And it just didn't hit the spot.
But amid the hectic pace of our evening, there was a bright 90 minutes.
At 2:30 my doorbell rang. I was expecting the UPS Man but Cookie was not doing her "UPS Man" bark. She was doing her "YIPPEE, company's here" bark. I opened the door and there stood our little 5 year old neighbor, eyes red and full of tears and sniffling "My Mommy's not home." I knew what had happened. Her mom had forgotten the kids got out early. I had seen her taking a run just minutes earlier (she's preparing for a half marathon.) I'm sure she thought she had another hour.
So I gathered little neighbor girl in my arms and carried her into our kitchen and told her she was very smart to come here when she noticed Mommy wasn't home. I told her I knew where Mommy was and that I was certain she had simply forgotten she was coming home early, but that it would be great fun for me if she'd sit in my kitchen and have a snack and watch Curious George on TV. Once she was settled, I called my neighbor and left a message telling here where her precious daughter was and that everything was ok.
Let me just pause here to say something to those of you whose children have not started school yet. Please do not judge this woman. It happens. After she got my message, she checked the school announcements and there was no reminder at all of an early dismissal. I only knew about it because my kids are 13 and 15 and they live for early dismissal. And of course she was very embarrassed and worried for her daughter.
Anyway, after a snack and a very entertaining episode of Curious George, we were on our way to the basement to play ping pong when mommy rang the doorbell. Little Neighbor Girl was not ready to go home because she had not played ping pong yet nor had she explored our toy shelf. Obviously she had gotten over her trauma.
So after reassuring my neighbor that there was no need to feel bad, and telling her about the time I forgot to pick both my kids up from school, and how when I finally got there and saw them waiting in the office, I was sure that if I could have read their thought bubbles at the time, I would have wondered how a 6-and 9-year-old knew such language; I told her that her daughter was welcome to stay awhile and I'd walk her home after we played.
So we sat on the basement floor and did puzzles. And I was re-introduced to the magic of kindergarten. The excitment in her eyes and voice when she told me about "short O" and how she was "the ONLY one in my class with an "R" name!!" And "In two weeks, I have a birthday and a school concert, BOTH ON THE SAME DAY -" well, the magic was just contagious. Then Paul came home and played ping pong with her and we all laughed when she nearly hit him in the head and when the ball went flying all over the basement. Actually the girl's got quite an arm for a five-year-old. Then we played a "big kid game" for a while before we had to break the news that it was time to go home because we had to "go see Blake and Kayla's teachers this evening."
So of course my heart went back to the time when mine were that little. Like when Blake was 6 and asked for a watch. I told him he could have a watch as soon as he could count by 5's. So he said "you mean 5,10,15,20,25,30...."
And when Kayla was in kindergarten and was learning her first vowel, only they called them letter lights. So I said "Every word has to have a letter light. If there is no letter light, it is not a word." She tilted her head and looked at me very seriously and said "My teacher doesn't know that." And I knew without a doubt that Kayla was going to inform her teacher of this little bit of news the next day.
Yes those days were magic. But so are these days. It is magic watching my kids with their friends. It is magic sitting in front of a teacher and listening to her say "you have many reasons to be proud of your daughter." It is magic watching my son's arm be raised in victory after he has won his Regional Wrestling Meet. It is magic sitting around a table eating fast food with my children and their friends. It is magic hearing their voices on the phone as they call to check in. Sometimes I get lost in remembering the magic. So lost in remembering that I forget to take part in the magic that's right before me.
Well, not anymore.....
At our kids' schools the conferences are held in the gym (for Kayla) and the cafetorium (for Blake) each teacher has a table and you stand in line to talk to them about your child. I do not know a better way to do it, really, since the kids each have 7 teachers. At least this way, we stay in the same room and don't have to wander all over the building meeting in 7 different rooms for each of our kids. Having said that, it still can be a long evening. We were at the schools for two hours, and then we had to rush home so Paul could get on the road.
For the third night in a row, we ate fast food for dinner. To top it all off, when I lifted the bun on my big mac to fix all the lettuce that was falling out, I noticed I only had one beef patty. So I said "HEY!! I only got one all beef patty. A big mac is supposed to have two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun." Paul laughed but the kids just looked at me as though I'd grown a second head. They obviously did not grow up in the 80's. Also, Blake's friend Drew was with us, and he also had a big mac. His big mac had 2 all beef patties. So throughout dinner I'd look at him and say things like "I bet that is really good with two hamburger patties." "So...Drew... how is that WHOLE big mac?" And he said "I'm sorry....if I hadn't already taken a bite, you could have this one." I do not often eat a big mac, and I was really looking forward to this one. And it just didn't hit the spot.
But amid the hectic pace of our evening, there was a bright 90 minutes.
At 2:30 my doorbell rang. I was expecting the UPS Man but Cookie was not doing her "UPS Man" bark. She was doing her "YIPPEE, company's here" bark. I opened the door and there stood our little 5 year old neighbor, eyes red and full of tears and sniffling "My Mommy's not home." I knew what had happened. Her mom had forgotten the kids got out early. I had seen her taking a run just minutes earlier (she's preparing for a half marathon.) I'm sure she thought she had another hour.
So I gathered little neighbor girl in my arms and carried her into our kitchen and told her she was very smart to come here when she noticed Mommy wasn't home. I told her I knew where Mommy was and that I was certain she had simply forgotten she was coming home early, but that it would be great fun for me if she'd sit in my kitchen and have a snack and watch Curious George on TV. Once she was settled, I called my neighbor and left a message telling here where her precious daughter was and that everything was ok.
Let me just pause here to say something to those of you whose children have not started school yet. Please do not judge this woman. It happens. After she got my message, she checked the school announcements and there was no reminder at all of an early dismissal. I only knew about it because my kids are 13 and 15 and they live for early dismissal. And of course she was very embarrassed and worried for her daughter.
Anyway, after a snack and a very entertaining episode of Curious George, we were on our way to the basement to play ping pong when mommy rang the doorbell. Little Neighbor Girl was not ready to go home because she had not played ping pong yet nor had she explored our toy shelf. Obviously she had gotten over her trauma.
So after reassuring my neighbor that there was no need to feel bad, and telling her about the time I forgot to pick both my kids up from school, and how when I finally got there and saw them waiting in the office, I was sure that if I could have read their thought bubbles at the time, I would have wondered how a 6-and 9-year-old knew such language; I told her that her daughter was welcome to stay awhile and I'd walk her home after we played.
So we sat on the basement floor and did puzzles. And I was re-introduced to the magic of kindergarten. The excitment in her eyes and voice when she told me about "short O" and how she was "the ONLY one in my class with an "R" name!!" And "In two weeks, I have a birthday and a school concert, BOTH ON THE SAME DAY -" well, the magic was just contagious. Then Paul came home and played ping pong with her and we all laughed when she nearly hit him in the head and when the ball went flying all over the basement. Actually the girl's got quite an arm for a five-year-old. Then we played a "big kid game" for a while before we had to break the news that it was time to go home because we had to "go see Blake and Kayla's teachers this evening."
So of course my heart went back to the time when mine were that little. Like when Blake was 6 and asked for a watch. I told him he could have a watch as soon as he could count by 5's. So he said "you mean 5,10,15,20,25,30...."
And when Kayla was in kindergarten and was learning her first vowel, only they called them letter lights. So I said "Every word has to have a letter light. If there is no letter light, it is not a word." She tilted her head and looked at me very seriously and said "My teacher doesn't know that." And I knew without a doubt that Kayla was going to inform her teacher of this little bit of news the next day.
Yes those days were magic. But so are these days. It is magic watching my kids with their friends. It is magic sitting in front of a teacher and listening to her say "you have many reasons to be proud of your daughter." It is magic watching my son's arm be raised in victory after he has won his Regional Wrestling Meet. It is magic sitting around a table eating fast food with my children and their friends. It is magic hearing their voices on the phone as they call to check in. Sometimes I get lost in remembering the magic. So lost in remembering that I forget to take part in the magic that's right before me.
Well, not anymore.....
Saturday, February 24, 2007
AT THE MALL
Our trip to the Mall was very successful and efficient. As when the kids were pre-schoolers, we left the house with me reciting our itenerary. My goal was to work this trip out so that neither kid had to spend much time waiting on the other. That would lead to grumpy teenagers. We do not want grumpy teenagers.
First let me say that for one brief moment, my brain had a cramp when Blake grabbed the keys and headed out the door in a flash before I could even get my coat. I was thinking "What's he do...oh, he's driving." It's one of those things that still surprises me. But he is very confident and cautious - a good mix.
So at Kohl's we head to the men's sportswear and Blake points to some shorts and asks what size he will need. I tell him medium. So he picks up a pair of XL and says they'll probably fit. I have to remind him that we are in the MENS department, which causes my heart to do a weird flippy thing. So he grabs a pair of Medium and heads to the fitting room. He comes back and says "these fit, how many can I get?" After checking the price I say "5 pair." So he says "grab me 5 pair in navy and black, and then we'll pick out shirts at Finish Line." Then he picked out a pair of sweatpants. The whole thing took about 13 minutes. He went to Gamestop while Kayla and I finished our shopping. Gamestop is on the way to Finish Line so we saw him through the window, he put down the controller to the demo game and joined us again. Kayla and I didn't even have to break our stride. That is when I said "Dad would be so proud of how efficient our trip is." Finish Line had college t-shirts 2 for $20 so Blake picked out 4 and and then convinced me to let him get two more. He could not find tennis shoes. What is it about size 13? Does NOBODY carry size 13 for men? Kayla however found her blue plaid tennies at Shoe Sensation and they look just plain cute. Now the kids have a good start on spring clothes.
As Blake was driving us home I could not help but remember all our trips to the mall when the kids were little. I took them once a week, especially in the winter, to run around and eat at Corn Dog 7. Why did they close Corn Dog 7. We LOVED that place. We did not have a play place when they were little so they spent their time running up and down the steps in the center court where the fountains were. They always liked for me to count when they ran. They would say "Count for me, Mommy" meaning time them. So they'd run back to me and I'd yell "NINETEEN!" And they'd want to try again so they could get a higher number. In their little minds, the bigger number had to mean they were faster....
As they got older and in school, we went to the mall less frequently; but we almost always went when Daddy was away on a business trip. Sometimes we'd go for an early supper and have giant soft pretzels and fruit smoothies for supper. Anything out of the ordinary was a treat when Daddy was gone. And I would usually let them pick out a little toy to take home.
When Blake was already in school, Kayla and I had our "mall days" on Thursday. We went after her dance class. In the winter she'd walk around the mall with the skirt of her little leotard poking out of her sweat pants. In warm weather she'd walk around in the leotard and tennis shoes. And was she ever cute, with that leotard and the ever present giant bow on her head. My stars, she was cute. Dance was at 10:00, so we'd get to the mall a little after 11. As we'd leave the house on those mornings, I would say "after dance, we will go to the mall and take a walk and look around, and sit at the book store and read books." And I'd always warn her if there was any actual shopping to do, so she'd be prepared for the extra wait. And of course, I ended up buying a book or two for her and Blake. And then we'd go to Baskin Robbins. Every Thursday, we went to Baskin Robbins. BEFORE LUNCH. It was our "girls day" And by golly we were going to have ice cream before lunch. Since it was so early in the day, it was usually only the owner working and he'd see us coming and say "There's my ladies. How was dance today?" And at least twice he gave us our ice cream for free. Kayla always chose vanilla, and usually in a cup. Now she is more adventurous with her tastes, but she certainly enjoys vanilla on any given day. Vanilla ice cream to her, is like any sort of chocolate is to me.
One time when my mom was with us at the mall, we were sitting at the center fountain while Kayla ran up and down the stairs. The fountain is huge and is recessed into the floor, so it is actually very accessible (too accessible). I looked down once and Kayla was lying on her tummy lapping water out of the fountain like a puppy. So I trotted down the stairs and got her up and as I took her back up to Grandma I said "Let's go find your mommy. She wouldn't like you doing that, but she needs to keep a better eye on you."
I will just add the memory of the "Cat Fight at Kohl's" and then I will stop. At least until tomorrow, when I might add more memories for my kids to read.
Kayla was about 2 and Blake was not quite 5. We were walking down one of the main aisles at Kohl's and I heard some lady speaking to me. I turned and said "Pardon me." And she said "I said your kids are so cute and well behaved. " And I said "Well, thank you so much. They're usually pretty good." And in my minds I was telling myself "You big FAKER." Because we had just come out of the shoe aisle where the kids had been scratching each other's eyes out. Obviously it was an intense experience because I still remember it clearly. We were strolling along, all of us enjoying our day when out of nowhere both kids were yelling and crying and arms and legs were flailing everywhere. I do not know what set it off, but I will say one thing. Kayla could really put up a good fight for someone so little who was strapped into a stroller. Heaven help the evil person who ever tried to snatch her from me. I do not remember how I smoothed things over. But I remember being exhausted and completely bewildered that it happened so quickly. I am fairly certain Kayla started it. She probably pulled on Blake's shirt one too many times or threw something at him. But the storm passed and we continued on our way. Only to be complimented for our excellent behavior.
Go Figure.
First let me say that for one brief moment, my brain had a cramp when Blake grabbed the keys and headed out the door in a flash before I could even get my coat. I was thinking "What's he do...oh, he's driving." It's one of those things that still surprises me. But he is very confident and cautious - a good mix.
So at Kohl's we head to the men's sportswear and Blake points to some shorts and asks what size he will need. I tell him medium. So he picks up a pair of XL and says they'll probably fit. I have to remind him that we are in the MENS department, which causes my heart to do a weird flippy thing. So he grabs a pair of Medium and heads to the fitting room. He comes back and says "these fit, how many can I get?" After checking the price I say "5 pair." So he says "grab me 5 pair in navy and black, and then we'll pick out shirts at Finish Line." Then he picked out a pair of sweatpants. The whole thing took about 13 minutes. He went to Gamestop while Kayla and I finished our shopping. Gamestop is on the way to Finish Line so we saw him through the window, he put down the controller to the demo game and joined us again. Kayla and I didn't even have to break our stride. That is when I said "Dad would be so proud of how efficient our trip is." Finish Line had college t-shirts 2 for $20 so Blake picked out 4 and and then convinced me to let him get two more. He could not find tennis shoes. What is it about size 13? Does NOBODY carry size 13 for men? Kayla however found her blue plaid tennies at Shoe Sensation and they look just plain cute. Now the kids have a good start on spring clothes.
As Blake was driving us home I could not help but remember all our trips to the mall when the kids were little. I took them once a week, especially in the winter, to run around and eat at Corn Dog 7. Why did they close Corn Dog 7. We LOVED that place. We did not have a play place when they were little so they spent their time running up and down the steps in the center court where the fountains were. They always liked for me to count when they ran. They would say "Count for me, Mommy" meaning time them. So they'd run back to me and I'd yell "NINETEEN!" And they'd want to try again so they could get a higher number. In their little minds, the bigger number had to mean they were faster....
As they got older and in school, we went to the mall less frequently; but we almost always went when Daddy was away on a business trip. Sometimes we'd go for an early supper and have giant soft pretzels and fruit smoothies for supper. Anything out of the ordinary was a treat when Daddy was gone. And I would usually let them pick out a little toy to take home.
When Blake was already in school, Kayla and I had our "mall days" on Thursday. We went after her dance class. In the winter she'd walk around the mall with the skirt of her little leotard poking out of her sweat pants. In warm weather she'd walk around in the leotard and tennis shoes. And was she ever cute, with that leotard and the ever present giant bow on her head. My stars, she was cute. Dance was at 10:00, so we'd get to the mall a little after 11. As we'd leave the house on those mornings, I would say "after dance, we will go to the mall and take a walk and look around, and sit at the book store and read books." And I'd always warn her if there was any actual shopping to do, so she'd be prepared for the extra wait. And of course, I ended up buying a book or two for her and Blake. And then we'd go to Baskin Robbins. Every Thursday, we went to Baskin Robbins. BEFORE LUNCH. It was our "girls day" And by golly we were going to have ice cream before lunch. Since it was so early in the day, it was usually only the owner working and he'd see us coming and say "There's my ladies. How was dance today?" And at least twice he gave us our ice cream for free. Kayla always chose vanilla, and usually in a cup. Now she is more adventurous with her tastes, but she certainly enjoys vanilla on any given day. Vanilla ice cream to her, is like any sort of chocolate is to me.
One time when my mom was with us at the mall, we were sitting at the center fountain while Kayla ran up and down the stairs. The fountain is huge and is recessed into the floor, so it is actually very accessible (too accessible). I looked down once and Kayla was lying on her tummy lapping water out of the fountain like a puppy. So I trotted down the stairs and got her up and as I took her back up to Grandma I said "Let's go find your mommy. She wouldn't like you doing that, but she needs to keep a better eye on you."
I will just add the memory of the "Cat Fight at Kohl's" and then I will stop. At least until tomorrow, when I might add more memories for my kids to read.
Kayla was about 2 and Blake was not quite 5. We were walking down one of the main aisles at Kohl's and I heard some lady speaking to me. I turned and said "Pardon me." And she said "I said your kids are so cute and well behaved. " And I said "Well, thank you so much. They're usually pretty good." And in my minds I was telling myself "You big FAKER." Because we had just come out of the shoe aisle where the kids had been scratching each other's eyes out. Obviously it was an intense experience because I still remember it clearly. We were strolling along, all of us enjoying our day when out of nowhere both kids were yelling and crying and arms and legs were flailing everywhere. I do not know what set it off, but I will say one thing. Kayla could really put up a good fight for someone so little who was strapped into a stroller. Heaven help the evil person who ever tried to snatch her from me. I do not remember how I smoothed things over. But I remember being exhausted and completely bewildered that it happened so quickly. I am fairly certain Kayla started it. She probably pulled on Blake's shirt one too many times or threw something at him. But the storm passed and we continued on our way. Only to be complimented for our excellent behavior.
Go Figure.
Friday, February 23, 2007
NEGOTIATIONS....
Last night Blake and his friend Drew were working on a Driver's Ed project together. They had to find 20 articles about car accidents and glue them to a poster board.
Blake got all of his printed, cut out and lined up on the poster board. Our conversation after that went something like this:
Blake: Mom, do you think Kayla would glue all these on for me if I paid her?
Mom: Call her down here and start negotiating with her.
(I knew this would be interesting because Blake never has any money. Kayla, on the other hand, is loaded)
Blake: KAAAAAYLAAAAA!
(which reminded me I should have said "quietly go to her room and knock on her door to ask her in a civilized manner.")
So Kayla appears.
Blake: Will you glue all these on for me if I give you five bucks?
Kayla: TEN!!!
Blake: ah, man.
He glued them himself.
Blake got all of his printed, cut out and lined up on the poster board. Our conversation after that went something like this:
Blake: Mom, do you think Kayla would glue all these on for me if I paid her?
Mom: Call her down here and start negotiating with her.
(I knew this would be interesting because Blake never has any money. Kayla, on the other hand, is loaded)
Blake: KAAAAAYLAAAAA!
(which reminded me I should have said "quietly go to her room and knock on her door to ask her in a civilized manner.")
So Kayla appears.
Blake: Will you glue all these on for me if I give you five bucks?
Kayla: TEN!!!
Blake: ah, man.
He glued them himself.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
UM...EXCUSE ME, BUT COULD YOU REPEAT THAT?
So yesterday evening Blake says "Mom tomorrow after school could we go to the mall to shop for new spring clothes?"
Wait, what?
BLAKE SAID THAT. Not my 13-year-old fashion expert daughter, but my 15 1/12 year old fashion challenged son. My mind was saying "It's a trick....do not fall for it..."
But he said he wanted some new shorts and t-shirts, and it IS about that time of year...
Let me just say that Blake has not waited for spring to be wearing shorts again. When I picked him up from school last month he came out of the building in shorts. In January. In Illinois. It was about 25 degrees. See, the boys not only wear shorts under their sweat pants; they wear shorts under their jeans. Then when they get hot in school, they can slip their jeans off in the restroom, or just not put the jeans back on after P.E. class. It is a little disconcerting for us moms who are certain we saw them leave the house in jeans that morning. This shorts-all-year phenomenon has been going on for a couple of years. Blake's grandparents think it is terrible that I allow him to wear shorts in the winter months. I finally started to reply to their outrage with "He's 13 (or 14 or 15) he knows when he's cold. And besides, he only goes from the car to the bus to the school and back again."
So we will head out today to shop. Kayla has her eye on some cool tennis shoes (blue plaid) that she will probably get.
I am tempted to buy Blake 7 pair of black or denim shorts. That way he will have a pretty good chance of matching. Blake has no desire to match his clothes. It is sometimes painful to the eyes.
I guess I have been somewhat of a clothing snob for Blake. I buy two brands - Nike and "And One." Not because I will only buy top of the line, but because they wash up beautifully. I mean really. If he did not outgrow them, these brands would last forever. That is important for boy clothes. And I have always bought them in sets - navy shorts with a navy shirt, burgundy set...whatever. Blake has never felt the need to keep the sets together, however, much to my and Kayla's horror. Our favorite pairing of his is the burgundy shorts with the orange shirt. OUCH! My only comfort in this fashion travesty is that most of the boys look this way. Except Cubby. Cubby dresses really neat.
Kayla, of course, is the opposite of Blake when it comes to fashion. She somehow manages to look cute in plain jeans and a t-shirt. Like today. She went to school in jeans and a black t-shirt. But the silver belt was a perfect touch. And I think she had a red ribbon in her hair. You cannot go wrong with red accessories when wearing black. I tried to impart important wisdom like that to my children at a very young age. I do not seek out the name brands for Kayla, but I will admit to buying her MORE clothes. But she uses them (as I remind Paul every time we trudge in from the mall with 2 or 3 (or 6) sacks. She has different outfits for everything. She has babysitting outifts, going-to-the-movie outifts, eating-out-with-Mom-and-Dad outfits (which luckily does not include dark glasses and a trench coat...yet) hanging-out-at-the-mall outfits. And sometimes she will wear several of these in a day. But I suppose if I'd had that many clothes when I was 13, I would have "utilized" them to the best of my ability also.
Also, regarding shopping... I just recently told Paul that the kids are old enough to be doing much of their own. Kayla especially spends enough time at the mall, that I could just give her the money and tell her to purchase the shirts we've agreed upon, when she's there with her friends anyway. I think she'd go for that. Blake? Not so much. He might consider it just another chore. Unless I was sending him into the Video game store.
Wait, what?
BLAKE SAID THAT. Not my 13-year-old fashion expert daughter, but my 15 1/12 year old fashion challenged son. My mind was saying "It's a trick....do not fall for it..."
But he said he wanted some new shorts and t-shirts, and it IS about that time of year...
Let me just say that Blake has not waited for spring to be wearing shorts again. When I picked him up from school last month he came out of the building in shorts. In January. In Illinois. It was about 25 degrees. See, the boys not only wear shorts under their sweat pants; they wear shorts under their jeans. Then when they get hot in school, they can slip their jeans off in the restroom, or just not put the jeans back on after P.E. class. It is a little disconcerting for us moms who are certain we saw them leave the house in jeans that morning. This shorts-all-year phenomenon has been going on for a couple of years. Blake's grandparents think it is terrible that I allow him to wear shorts in the winter months. I finally started to reply to their outrage with "He's 13 (or 14 or 15) he knows when he's cold. And besides, he only goes from the car to the bus to the school and back again."
So we will head out today to shop. Kayla has her eye on some cool tennis shoes (blue plaid) that she will probably get.
I am tempted to buy Blake 7 pair of black or denim shorts. That way he will have a pretty good chance of matching. Blake has no desire to match his clothes. It is sometimes painful to the eyes.
I guess I have been somewhat of a clothing snob for Blake. I buy two brands - Nike and "And One." Not because I will only buy top of the line, but because they wash up beautifully. I mean really. If he did not outgrow them, these brands would last forever. That is important for boy clothes. And I have always bought them in sets - navy shorts with a navy shirt, burgundy set...whatever. Blake has never felt the need to keep the sets together, however, much to my and Kayla's horror. Our favorite pairing of his is the burgundy shorts with the orange shirt. OUCH! My only comfort in this fashion travesty is that most of the boys look this way. Except Cubby. Cubby dresses really neat.
Kayla, of course, is the opposite of Blake when it comes to fashion. She somehow manages to look cute in plain jeans and a t-shirt. Like today. She went to school in jeans and a black t-shirt. But the silver belt was a perfect touch. And I think she had a red ribbon in her hair. You cannot go wrong with red accessories when wearing black. I tried to impart important wisdom like that to my children at a very young age. I do not seek out the name brands for Kayla, but I will admit to buying her MORE clothes. But she uses them (as I remind Paul every time we trudge in from the mall with 2 or 3 (or 6) sacks. She has different outfits for everything. She has babysitting outifts, going-to-the-movie outifts, eating-out-with-Mom-and-Dad outfits (which luckily does not include dark glasses and a trench coat...yet) hanging-out-at-the-mall outfits. And sometimes she will wear several of these in a day. But I suppose if I'd had that many clothes when I was 13, I would have "utilized" them to the best of my ability also.
Also, regarding shopping... I just recently told Paul that the kids are old enough to be doing much of their own. Kayla especially spends enough time at the mall, that I could just give her the money and tell her to purchase the shirts we've agreed upon, when she's there with her friends anyway. I think she'd go for that. Blake? Not so much. He might consider it just another chore. Unless I was sending him into the Video game store.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GIVE UP....OR....AND STILL IT COMES
So I walk downstairs this morning at 6:30ish after being awake since 5:15 (on a Saturday, I hate that) and look around my horribly messy kitchen and mutter "this is what happens when you give up." And then I looked out the window to see if the snow predicitons were true; that we'd be getting around 4 more inches after the nearly 12 we got 3 days ago. And it is falling nice and heavy. And I muttered "And still it comes."
It's been a bad week. Paul returns this evening after 8 days in London. The travel is nothing new to us but it has been awhile since he's been gone for so many days at once. I learned a couple years ago not to anticipate anything when he's gone. I have a habit of thinking forward into the week he's gone and telling myself "just get through...." fill in the blank, "and things will be smooth sailing from there."
I told myself not to do that this week, and yet I did. I had planned to take Thursday and Friday off work. So I kept telling myself I would just get through Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and then I would have two days at home to catch my breath during this stint at single parenting and he'd be home Saturday.
Then the blizzard struck. I could not get to work Tuesday because our driveway was blocked by a 3 foot drift...at the end. The garage door was blocked by about 24 inches of snow. The middle part of the drive, however, was perfectly clear so the kids could have shot hoops, I guess, if they had the desire to do so in the 25 mph wind, blowing snow and 15 degree temperature.
I spent Monday night and Tuesday morning watching the drift grow bigger and bigger and worrying about getting out to work. Thankfully my boss called that morning and said not to get out. Wednesday morning, Blake and his friends got me shoveled out but it was fairly late, so I called my boss and said I would not be in that day either. I struggled with that decision but finally decided they would not fire me because all of the men in the office are afraid of the phones.
By Wednesday afternoon, the roads were passable so I decided to venture out and get a few groceries and let Kayla meet her friends for some sledding. I ignored the voice in my head that kept saying "sledding's not a good idea," all day long. As we ventured out I told Kayla "If the lane to the golf course is bad I'm not going to attempt to drive down it," still ignoring the voice in my head. The lane was fine. Halfway. When I got to the middle, I stopped and said "I can't go any further, you will have to walk or come home with me." We were only about 100 yards from where the kids had gathered and we could see them, so she grabbed her saucer sled and trudged through to the sledding party. That is when I knew I had to go back down the lane in reverse. That is when I got stuck. So I used the "rocking" techinque all midwest beginning drivers are taught. Drive, reverse. Drive, reverse. After about 6 times of that I got moving. Then I backed into a driveway to turn around so I could exit the lane going forward. And I got stuck again. Drive, reverse. Drive, reverse. Only 4 times of that and I was on my way. Thankfully there were two men using snow blowers on the lane who seemed quite happy to stop their work and STAND AND WATCH ME GET MYSELF UN-STUCK. I mean really, doesn't an audience make that kind of situation go so much better? So all the way to the grocery store I was thinking " What is the matter with you two men? You both should be ashamed of yourselves, watching a 40 year old woman struggle to get her mini van unstuck on snow packed roads. All I can say is you must be from somewhere else because here in the midwest we help each other out during blizzards, and after blizzards."
Needless to say, since I had missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday I needed to work Thursday and Friday. My anticpated week had been buried in 12 inches of snow. Yesterday I had to get out late to take Kayla to the church lock-in. It was snowing again. I was exhausted. I had only slept about 4 hours the night before. I had a sore throat and an earache. When I walked in after dropping her off, it was after 10. I looked around at my horribly messy kitchen and said to myself "I give up. I'll deal with it tomorrow." I went to bed but had to set my alarm for 5:30 in case Kayla needed a ride home from the lock-in. Thankfully someone gave her a ride. But I had to get up anyway to unlock the front door for her. And when she got home, I could tell just by our very brief "good morning" that she'd had a wonderful time. I'm glad I ventured out and took her. I did not begrudge her that; I had simply been nervous about the roads and was tired.
My mom raised four kids alone. I have been thinking about her a lot this week. I've been thinking about all single parents this week. How do they manage a household alone with no relief in sight? I've been so tired all week. I've been worried and anxious. I have spent some time crying. But I know help is on the way. The cavalry is coming. There will be more trips to come, more "opportunities" at single parenting. But I have reminded myself that this is only an 8-day stint. There are so many parents out there who cannot fill in the blank when they say "just get through..." because they do not see an end to their loneliness.
Today I saw the snow falling and said to myself "And still it comes." I wonder how many of these single parents simply open their eyes in the morning and say "And still it comes."
I will be praying for them.
It's been a bad week. Paul returns this evening after 8 days in London. The travel is nothing new to us but it has been awhile since he's been gone for so many days at once. I learned a couple years ago not to anticipate anything when he's gone. I have a habit of thinking forward into the week he's gone and telling myself "just get through...." fill in the blank, "and things will be smooth sailing from there."
I told myself not to do that this week, and yet I did. I had planned to take Thursday and Friday off work. So I kept telling myself I would just get through Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and then I would have two days at home to catch my breath during this stint at single parenting and he'd be home Saturday.
Then the blizzard struck. I could not get to work Tuesday because our driveway was blocked by a 3 foot drift...at the end. The garage door was blocked by about 24 inches of snow. The middle part of the drive, however, was perfectly clear so the kids could have shot hoops, I guess, if they had the desire to do so in the 25 mph wind, blowing snow and 15 degree temperature.
I spent Monday night and Tuesday morning watching the drift grow bigger and bigger and worrying about getting out to work. Thankfully my boss called that morning and said not to get out. Wednesday morning, Blake and his friends got me shoveled out but it was fairly late, so I called my boss and said I would not be in that day either. I struggled with that decision but finally decided they would not fire me because all of the men in the office are afraid of the phones.
By Wednesday afternoon, the roads were passable so I decided to venture out and get a few groceries and let Kayla meet her friends for some sledding. I ignored the voice in my head that kept saying "sledding's not a good idea," all day long. As we ventured out I told Kayla "If the lane to the golf course is bad I'm not going to attempt to drive down it," still ignoring the voice in my head. The lane was fine. Halfway. When I got to the middle, I stopped and said "I can't go any further, you will have to walk or come home with me." We were only about 100 yards from where the kids had gathered and we could see them, so she grabbed her saucer sled and trudged through to the sledding party. That is when I knew I had to go back down the lane in reverse. That is when I got stuck. So I used the "rocking" techinque all midwest beginning drivers are taught. Drive, reverse. Drive, reverse. After about 6 times of that I got moving. Then I backed into a driveway to turn around so I could exit the lane going forward. And I got stuck again. Drive, reverse. Drive, reverse. Only 4 times of that and I was on my way. Thankfully there were two men using snow blowers on the lane who seemed quite happy to stop their work and STAND AND WATCH ME GET MYSELF UN-STUCK. I mean really, doesn't an audience make that kind of situation go so much better? So all the way to the grocery store I was thinking " What is the matter with you two men? You both should be ashamed of yourselves, watching a 40 year old woman struggle to get her mini van unstuck on snow packed roads. All I can say is you must be from somewhere else because here in the midwest we help each other out during blizzards, and after blizzards."
Needless to say, since I had missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday I needed to work Thursday and Friday. My anticpated week had been buried in 12 inches of snow. Yesterday I had to get out late to take Kayla to the church lock-in. It was snowing again. I was exhausted. I had only slept about 4 hours the night before. I had a sore throat and an earache. When I walked in after dropping her off, it was after 10. I looked around at my horribly messy kitchen and said to myself "I give up. I'll deal with it tomorrow." I went to bed but had to set my alarm for 5:30 in case Kayla needed a ride home from the lock-in. Thankfully someone gave her a ride. But I had to get up anyway to unlock the front door for her. And when she got home, I could tell just by our very brief "good morning" that she'd had a wonderful time. I'm glad I ventured out and took her. I did not begrudge her that; I had simply been nervous about the roads and was tired.
My mom raised four kids alone. I have been thinking about her a lot this week. I've been thinking about all single parents this week. How do they manage a household alone with no relief in sight? I've been so tired all week. I've been worried and anxious. I have spent some time crying. But I know help is on the way. The cavalry is coming. There will be more trips to come, more "opportunities" at single parenting. But I have reminded myself that this is only an 8-day stint. There are so many parents out there who cannot fill in the blank when they say "just get through..." because they do not see an end to their loneliness.
Today I saw the snow falling and said to myself "And still it comes." I wonder how many of these single parents simply open their eyes in the morning and say "And still it comes."
I will be praying for them.
Friday, February 16, 2007
BUCKLE UP...
Since he was about 12, Blake has occasionally asked "Can I drive?" when we are heading out the door to go somewhere. And I would always reply with something like "Did you have a big ole' plate of crazy for breakfast?"
But this morning, when he said "Mom, are you taking Kayla to the church lock-in tonight?" and I said "Yes," he asked "Can I drive?" And I had to say "Sure." Because today he gets his learner's permit. HIS LEARNER'S PERMIT. It was a struggle to calmly say "sure" to his request because my eye started twitching, I could feel sweat breaking out on my upper lip, my stomach did a flip-flip. He's driving. Starting today. Paul is in London. I am the one with whom he will be driving. On icy roads 3 days post-blizzard.
I am absolutely certain it was just last week that the only thing Blake drove were his matchbox cars and his "diggers 'n' dumpers."
My favorite story of Blake and his matchbox cars happened one weekend afternoon when he was about 2 and a half. I was pregnant with Kayla and taking a nap on the couch while Paul played cars with Blake on the floor. When I woke up I saw the cars in a huge straight line across the carpet. I was impressed. So I said "Blake, that is really neat the way you lined your cars up so straight and even." To which Blake replied. "I didn't do that. Daddy did that while I was in that corner poopin.'" So I just turned my head and gave Paul the raised eyebrow look and said "And have you changed that diaper in which he's been poopin'?"
Blake also loved his diggers and dumpers. Mainly because they were good with dirt. He loved dirt. The first time we built a house, he was five, and I decorated his room with diggers and dumpers wall paper, complete with dirt piles. Anytime we'd leave the house and I would be cleaning him up to go out I'd say "We need to stay clean, so no playing in the dirt on the way to the car." And, without fail, on his way to the car, he'd squat down and scoop his little index finger into the dirt and smile and continue walking to the car, grinning at his finger as though he was carrying a treasure. He was clean from head to toe except for one finger tip. And that little finger tip of dirt made him happy.
And now the diggers and dumpers are stored away, only brought out when little ones visit. The same with the matchbox cars. They've been replaced with a key chain. To hold real keys to a mini van and a jeep, and eventually a third vehicle whose license plate I hope will read CHPST 1.
Nobody warned me about this. This feeling of desperation to stop time. This feeling of disbelief that makes you want to argue "But 15 and a half years CANNOT have gone by simply because I blinked. There has to be some mistake!!" But to whom would I pose my argument? This is the way it should be. This is the plan. To let them grow up and gradually move farther away for longer lengths of time. I am doing my best to cherish this phase; every phase. Because to fail to cherish it is to miss out on it.
Just like Blake spent days counting and counting and counting, when he started kindergarten. And just like he read everything in sight when he was in first grade and eager to show off his new reading skills; I have a feeling we are in for 6 months of "Can we go to (fill in the blank)? I'll drive." And I will lift my eyes heavenward, and breathe some silent prayer and place myself in the passenger seat and buckle up.
This parenting trip is turning out to be an exciting ride.
But this morning, when he said "Mom, are you taking Kayla to the church lock-in tonight?" and I said "Yes," he asked "Can I drive?" And I had to say "Sure." Because today he gets his learner's permit. HIS LEARNER'S PERMIT. It was a struggle to calmly say "sure" to his request because my eye started twitching, I could feel sweat breaking out on my upper lip, my stomach did a flip-flip. He's driving. Starting today. Paul is in London. I am the one with whom he will be driving. On icy roads 3 days post-blizzard.
I am absolutely certain it was just last week that the only thing Blake drove were his matchbox cars and his "diggers 'n' dumpers."
My favorite story of Blake and his matchbox cars happened one weekend afternoon when he was about 2 and a half. I was pregnant with Kayla and taking a nap on the couch while Paul played cars with Blake on the floor. When I woke up I saw the cars in a huge straight line across the carpet. I was impressed. So I said "Blake, that is really neat the way you lined your cars up so straight and even." To which Blake replied. "I didn't do that. Daddy did that while I was in that corner poopin.'" So I just turned my head and gave Paul the raised eyebrow look and said "And have you changed that diaper in which he's been poopin'?"
Blake also loved his diggers and dumpers. Mainly because they were good with dirt. He loved dirt. The first time we built a house, he was five, and I decorated his room with diggers and dumpers wall paper, complete with dirt piles. Anytime we'd leave the house and I would be cleaning him up to go out I'd say "We need to stay clean, so no playing in the dirt on the way to the car." And, without fail, on his way to the car, he'd squat down and scoop his little index finger into the dirt and smile and continue walking to the car, grinning at his finger as though he was carrying a treasure. He was clean from head to toe except for one finger tip. And that little finger tip of dirt made him happy.
And now the diggers and dumpers are stored away, only brought out when little ones visit. The same with the matchbox cars. They've been replaced with a key chain. To hold real keys to a mini van and a jeep, and eventually a third vehicle whose license plate I hope will read CHPST 1.
Nobody warned me about this. This feeling of desperation to stop time. This feeling of disbelief that makes you want to argue "But 15 and a half years CANNOT have gone by simply because I blinked. There has to be some mistake!!" But to whom would I pose my argument? This is the way it should be. This is the plan. To let them grow up and gradually move farther away for longer lengths of time. I am doing my best to cherish this phase; every phase. Because to fail to cherish it is to miss out on it.
Just like Blake spent days counting and counting and counting, when he started kindergarten. And just like he read everything in sight when he was in first grade and eager to show off his new reading skills; I have a feeling we are in for 6 months of "Can we go to (fill in the blank)? I'll drive." And I will lift my eyes heavenward, and breathe some silent prayer and place myself in the passenger seat and buckle up.
This parenting trip is turning out to be an exciting ride.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
MORE OF THAT WOOLARD MATH
Yesterday at 5ish, I left the house with 3 kids to go to target - Blake, Kayla, and Cubby. When I returned at 6:30ish, I had 5 kids. There are still 5 kids in my house. Please be sure to show your work when coming up with the answer to this math problem.
I think it happened something like this.
Blake had money to spend which never lasts for long, and I had things to get at Target so it worked out for us all to go to Target. The boys (I am always saying "the boys" even though I gave birth to only ONE) spent an hour in electronics, and Kayla and I got a few grocery items and then browsed in the essential aisles - purses, shoes, makeup...
Blake and I got a Starbucks. Kayla and Cubby got an Icee.
After THE BOYS loaded the van with all of our stuff. I heard Blake say, "Cubby get in the way back." "uh, Blake why are you getting in the way back" "Because we're picking up Cody and Ryan." "Wait, what? I didn't know that." "I told you, Mom" "No you didn't, Blake." "Well, can Cody and Ryan come over too?" "Sure, but you didn't tell me." "Sorry."
The truth is I don't care how many boys come over. At this age, it is very easy to have 4, 5, 10 boys over. They play video games and eat. They are polite and funny. They make an admirable attempt at cleaning up their messes.
The same goes for Kayla's friends. I love for this house to be full of kids.
Last night was a little tricky because I wasn't expecting FOUR teenage boys to be eating. I was expecting TWO. That is the difference between two armies or 4. I cooked up a really big bag of barbecue wings and put out some chips, dip, cookies...
Before I called the boys down, I told Kayla to get her plate and fill it. We all know what happens when the boys start eating....Then the boys came down. All but Blake. I looked at the pan at one point and saw 3 itty bitty wings left. I laughed and said "what, no wings for Blake?" One boy said "ooops". One boy didn't answer because his mouth was full of wings. And one boy said "He had his chance." Blake came down 30 minutes later and ate waffles.
So before we went to bed last night, I told Paul that with Cubby, Ryan and Cody here along with Blake, I felt pretty well looked after because we had 3 football players, 2 wrestlers, and 2 basketball players in the house to do the heavy lifting. You do the math. And again, please show your work.
I think it happened something like this.
Blake had money to spend which never lasts for long, and I had things to get at Target so it worked out for us all to go to Target. The boys (I am always saying "the boys" even though I gave birth to only ONE) spent an hour in electronics, and Kayla and I got a few grocery items and then browsed in the essential aisles - purses, shoes, makeup...
Blake and I got a Starbucks. Kayla and Cubby got an Icee.
After THE BOYS loaded the van with all of our stuff. I heard Blake say, "Cubby get in the way back." "uh, Blake why are you getting in the way back" "Because we're picking up Cody and Ryan." "Wait, what? I didn't know that." "I told you, Mom" "No you didn't, Blake." "Well, can Cody and Ryan come over too?" "Sure, but you didn't tell me." "Sorry."
The truth is I don't care how many boys come over. At this age, it is very easy to have 4, 5, 10 boys over. They play video games and eat. They are polite and funny. They make an admirable attempt at cleaning up their messes.
The same goes for Kayla's friends. I love for this house to be full of kids.
Last night was a little tricky because I wasn't expecting FOUR teenage boys to be eating. I was expecting TWO. That is the difference between two armies or 4. I cooked up a really big bag of barbecue wings and put out some chips, dip, cookies...
Before I called the boys down, I told Kayla to get her plate and fill it. We all know what happens when the boys start eating....Then the boys came down. All but Blake. I looked at the pan at one point and saw 3 itty bitty wings left. I laughed and said "what, no wings for Blake?" One boy said "ooops". One boy didn't answer because his mouth was full of wings. And one boy said "He had his chance." Blake came down 30 minutes later and ate waffles.
So before we went to bed last night, I told Paul that with Cubby, Ryan and Cody here along with Blake, I felt pretty well looked after because we had 3 football players, 2 wrestlers, and 2 basketball players in the house to do the heavy lifting. You do the math. And again, please show your work.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
WHEN SOMETHING IS MISSING
This post was written several days ago, when Paul was on an 8-day trip to London. We try to let as few people as possible know when he is going to be away; it just seems prudent.
Paul and I were still in college when we got married. We had been high school sweethearts and it was just part of "our plan" to be married when we were. We know many people raised some eyebrows over our young age, but even looking back as an adult who has seen a lot, I can truly say we knew what we were doing. We were both paying our own ways anyway. We had both been raised in such a way that we were pretty mature and level headed, even at 20 and 21.
Paul finished college in 3 1/2 years, so we were only married 5 months when he graduated and started working for a big accounting firm in Little Rock, while I finished my degree. He was an auditor. Being a CPA (although he does not work in accounting now) Paul often gets calls from people seeking tax advice (especially from family members). When somebody asks me if he'll do their taxes, I usually tell them "well, actually he was not a tax accountant, but he'd be glad to audit you."
So early in our marriage, Paul started traveling quite a bit. In the accounting field, it was just to various locations within the state (first Arkansas, and then Illinois) where he would audit corporations, universities, city offices. He was usually gone a week at a time. Depending on the length of the job, he'd leave Monday morning, and return Friday night and then repeat the process.
When he left the accounting field, he had a brief period where he worked in internal audit. He did not travel. It was a wonderful time.
Let me just brag a minute about Paul. When it comes to his professional life. Paul's just got it. Really, he is very bright and dedicated. I do not know if I'd call him ambitious because he has managed to do quite well in the business world without sacrificing his family. Because of this "IT" that Paul has, he progressed pretty quickly in this new company as well. Soon he was asked to join a group of about 6 men that would be starting a new company. The new company went around to basically third world companies building or investing in power plants.
So the travel began again. Only this time it was to places like Columbia, Peru, Brazil, Pakistan. And it was often on very short notice. Again it was a situation where he would leave on Monday morning and return on Friday night, and then do the same the next week. There was once a nine week period where he was gone 7 of those weeks.
And this time we had babies. It was a very difficult time in my life. I seemed to live in fear. I was treated for depression. I was basically raising two babies alone. And my husband wasn't across town or even a few hours away. He was on a different continent. He could not get home to me in an emergency. We could not meet for lunch. He could not swing home for supper and then head back to work.
But when he was home, nothing else seemed to exist but his family. I know now I was not always as supportive of him as I should have been, but I was completely overwhelmed and had basically no support system.
After a few years of this, Paul left that company, for various reasons, one of course being the strain it was on our family. He took a pay cut. A 15% pay cut. He worked for 18 months for a family owned business as their CFO. He spent much of that time trying to show them how they needed to cut costs. So they did. By eliminating his job. They gave him 3 months to find something new. It was very fun for both of us when he was able to go in after TWO WEEKS and tell them he had already found a new position. A position that gave back the 15% pay he had lost, plus some. I know to my very core, God had a hand in this. He had used the other brief job as a stepping stone, a way to allow us to catch our breath and re-evaluate our lives.
During his time at this company (where he works now), Paul has also traveled a great deal. But not as much as with the power company. The trips are usually shorter and there are fewer in the year. They are usually to London, Toronto, Brussels, and the different plants within the states. He has gone to Singapore once for this job. Our experience with the "power company travel" has made these trips seem quite easy. Everything is relative.
Paul still somehow manages to be a rising star at work but also our kids' hero (and mine too) He takes overnight flights and arrives just in time for a meeting in London, so he won't miss a concert. He will take a 4 am flight rather than the 6 pm the night before, so he can coach a softball game, or sit through Blake's football game. He will excuse himself from a business meeting in corporate headquarters in London, so he can talk on the phone with the kids about their day.
He fills my van with gas, checks the tires, has the oil changed before he leaves town. He runs to the grocery store for me to spare me having to get out in the 12 degree weather. He always asks if I have plenty of cash so we can order pizza or eat out, while he is gone. Anything to make my time as a single mother a little easier.
I always stick notes in his suitcase, one note for each day he will be gone, so he can know each day how much I love him and appreciate how he provides for our family.
Is it any wonder, that even after twenty years of this business travel, I still miss him? Oh my stars, I miss him. Not the weeping into my pillow, stuffing chocolates into my mouth kind of missing him. But the kind that just makes me want to stare out the window and and lose focus. The kind that makes it difficult to sleep at night, not because I'm scared but because something is just not right.
But I am thankful for this job. Of course, it has provided for us and made it possible to plan to send our kids to college and not expect them to pay their own way. It has given us a home, two vehicles, some extras. But I'm also thankful for it because I know Paul likes it, and I have learned that it is vital for a man to like his job, regardless of the job he is doing. The travel is just enough to keep it exciting for him, but not so much that it is overwhelming for our family. It seems to be the perfect balance. God is really good at the balancing act.
This is the first time in a long time that Paul has been gone for more than a week. I have dreaded it for the 3 months that I have known about it. I have realized, though, that I am blessed to have this "something is missing" feeling when he is gone. In the notes I send with him, I write things like,
"my circle does not close when you are gone." "The sun is not as warm when you are gone." "Even chocolate is not as good when you are gone." All of these feelings are blessings, I know. They mean that my life is complete when he is home.
And I simply cannot wait for him to be home again.
Paul and I were still in college when we got married. We had been high school sweethearts and it was just part of "our plan" to be married when we were. We know many people raised some eyebrows over our young age, but even looking back as an adult who has seen a lot, I can truly say we knew what we were doing. We were both paying our own ways anyway. We had both been raised in such a way that we were pretty mature and level headed, even at 20 and 21.
Paul finished college in 3 1/2 years, so we were only married 5 months when he graduated and started working for a big accounting firm in Little Rock, while I finished my degree. He was an auditor. Being a CPA (although he does not work in accounting now) Paul often gets calls from people seeking tax advice (especially from family members). When somebody asks me if he'll do their taxes, I usually tell them "well, actually he was not a tax accountant, but he'd be glad to audit you."
So early in our marriage, Paul started traveling quite a bit. In the accounting field, it was just to various locations within the state (first Arkansas, and then Illinois) where he would audit corporations, universities, city offices. He was usually gone a week at a time. Depending on the length of the job, he'd leave Monday morning, and return Friday night and then repeat the process.
When he left the accounting field, he had a brief period where he worked in internal audit. He did not travel. It was a wonderful time.
Let me just brag a minute about Paul. When it comes to his professional life. Paul's just got it. Really, he is very bright and dedicated. I do not know if I'd call him ambitious because he has managed to do quite well in the business world without sacrificing his family. Because of this "IT" that Paul has, he progressed pretty quickly in this new company as well. Soon he was asked to join a group of about 6 men that would be starting a new company. The new company went around to basically third world companies building or investing in power plants.
So the travel began again. Only this time it was to places like Columbia, Peru, Brazil, Pakistan. And it was often on very short notice. Again it was a situation where he would leave on Monday morning and return on Friday night, and then do the same the next week. There was once a nine week period where he was gone 7 of those weeks.
And this time we had babies. It was a very difficult time in my life. I seemed to live in fear. I was treated for depression. I was basically raising two babies alone. And my husband wasn't across town or even a few hours away. He was on a different continent. He could not get home to me in an emergency. We could not meet for lunch. He could not swing home for supper and then head back to work.
But when he was home, nothing else seemed to exist but his family. I know now I was not always as supportive of him as I should have been, but I was completely overwhelmed and had basically no support system.
After a few years of this, Paul left that company, for various reasons, one of course being the strain it was on our family. He took a pay cut. A 15% pay cut. He worked for 18 months for a family owned business as their CFO. He spent much of that time trying to show them how they needed to cut costs. So they did. By eliminating his job. They gave him 3 months to find something new. It was very fun for both of us when he was able to go in after TWO WEEKS and tell them he had already found a new position. A position that gave back the 15% pay he had lost, plus some. I know to my very core, God had a hand in this. He had used the other brief job as a stepping stone, a way to allow us to catch our breath and re-evaluate our lives.
During his time at this company (where he works now), Paul has also traveled a great deal. But not as much as with the power company. The trips are usually shorter and there are fewer in the year. They are usually to London, Toronto, Brussels, and the different plants within the states. He has gone to Singapore once for this job. Our experience with the "power company travel" has made these trips seem quite easy. Everything is relative.
Paul still somehow manages to be a rising star at work but also our kids' hero (and mine too) He takes overnight flights and arrives just in time for a meeting in London, so he won't miss a concert. He will take a 4 am flight rather than the 6 pm the night before, so he can coach a softball game, or sit through Blake's football game. He will excuse himself from a business meeting in corporate headquarters in London, so he can talk on the phone with the kids about their day.
He fills my van with gas, checks the tires, has the oil changed before he leaves town. He runs to the grocery store for me to spare me having to get out in the 12 degree weather. He always asks if I have plenty of cash so we can order pizza or eat out, while he is gone. Anything to make my time as a single mother a little easier.
I always stick notes in his suitcase, one note for each day he will be gone, so he can know each day how much I love him and appreciate how he provides for our family.
Is it any wonder, that even after twenty years of this business travel, I still miss him? Oh my stars, I miss him. Not the weeping into my pillow, stuffing chocolates into my mouth kind of missing him. But the kind that just makes me want to stare out the window and and lose focus. The kind that makes it difficult to sleep at night, not because I'm scared but because something is just not right.
But I am thankful for this job. Of course, it has provided for us and made it possible to plan to send our kids to college and not expect them to pay their own way. It has given us a home, two vehicles, some extras. But I'm also thankful for it because I know Paul likes it, and I have learned that it is vital for a man to like his job, regardless of the job he is doing. The travel is just enough to keep it exciting for him, but not so much that it is overwhelming for our family. It seems to be the perfect balance. God is really good at the balancing act.
This is the first time in a long time that Paul has been gone for more than a week. I have dreaded it for the 3 months that I have known about it. I have realized, though, that I am blessed to have this "something is missing" feeling when he is gone. In the notes I send with him, I write things like,
"my circle does not close when you are gone." "The sun is not as warm when you are gone." "Even chocolate is not as good when you are gone." All of these feelings are blessings, I know. They mean that my life is complete when he is home.
And I simply cannot wait for him to be home again.
Friday, February 09, 2007
THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T BUY NICE THINGS...
It started with the dishes. Two years ago I asked for new dishes for my birthday. I know, I know, boring...but I really wanted them.
I didn't get them.
So I saved all my birthday money and then some, and went out to buy the dishes.
The thing is the dishes were sold, as my mom says "by the each", meaning, since I wanted service for 8, I had to place 32 individual plates, bowls, salad plates, and mugs in my cart. Also, the dishes came in many colors and I wanted 2 blue, 2 red, 2 green and 2 yellow...of plate, bowl, salad plate, and mug. Don't worry a friend was with me. And she examined every piece before setting them in my cart with me. Then she patiently stood at the check out and helped wrap each and every plate, bowl, salad plate and mug in paper as we sacked them. Then she came into my kitchen and helped me unwrap every individual dish. By this time, the dishes were really not looking so attractive and the visions I had of setting a multicolored table in my red and yellow kitchen were not quite so appealing either. But once they were all unwrapped, washed and stacked in my cabinet, I was thrilled. When I set the table the first few nights, I was thrilled.
Until I noticed the chips in the finish on some of the dishes.
First I thought it was a fluke, so I actually went out and replaced a blue dinner plate and a green bowl because they were chipped. Then I kept noticing more chips. Also they got VERY HOT when I microwaved them. So I looked at the bottom of one. "Dishwasher safe." Wait, what? Not microwave safe? Oh for the love of Pete. How can dishes not be microwave safe in 2005? And why in the world were they chipping? Why were these dishes that took two hours to purchase at the mall one day turning into a nightmare? What about my beautiful magazine-photo table settings?
So it was a sad day when I stacked the dishes and carried them to the basement kitchen to be stored and brought out very rarely. It was an even sadder day when I resigned myself to a boring table setting and bought dishes at Wal-Mart, in PLAIN WHITE for about one-fourth of the cost of my ideal colorful ones.
Then it was the bath accessories. I have never been one to buy a ceramic waste can, soap pump, tissue holder, etc for my bathrooms. Mainly because I haven't had border or curtains that came with all the matching stuff. And also, they can be quite expensive and I just haven't chosen to spend my money that way.
Until I found the set that "are the perfect match to the paint on our bedroom and bathroom walls, honey." Since our master bedroom and bath are painted a very, uh, well unique color (kind of tomato reddish) I was thrilled when I found a ceramic bath set in a floral print that really complimented our walls. So I bought 2 cups, two soap pumps, and one little soap dish (which I use for tiny perfume bottles)at first to go on our sinks.
Within one week, I had knocked my cup off into the sink and broke it into about 4 pieces. Well, sugarfoot. I replaced it. The next week, I picked up the soap pump to clean it and it came clean off the base (which by the way is a beautiful wood). Well, sugarfoot again. Then Paul picked up his cup one evening and it came clean off the base. So we spent some time one Saturday gluing our bath accessories back onto their bases, using my hand weights to brace them (see honey, not all exercise equipment is a waste of money around here.) And now to top it off, the beautiful wood bases of the bath accessories are chipping. CHIPPING! Now perhaps they shouldn't get damp, but you would think a decent bath accessory would be able to tolerate a little dampness considering it is being placed IN A BATHROOM!! So my plans to go back later and buy the tissue box have been cancelled. Same for the waste basket.
And now it is the jacket.
I noticed it while I was walking at the mall one morning before Christmas. I showed it to Paul and he said "Don't you have one kind of like that?" Which shocked me because I didn't think he knew what was hanging in our closet. I must be more careful. About 5 weeks later, I noticed that the jacket was still there and that there was one left in my size. Knowing I could wear it with many different things, I decided to go ahead and buy it. After all, I'm working now.
The jacket snags. Very easily. When I move my arm it snags against the zipper. When I carry my pen wrong at work, it snags. When my necklace catches on it, it snags. When I wore it to church, I spent the 15 minutes between Sunday School and Church services tediously pulling threads back through all over my right arm. Here's the thing. It's a pretty jacket. Really pretty. But it is very unpleasant to wear.
So a few things are looking better to me now:
paper plates
bottles of "Equate" liquid hand soap and
the other jacket "kind of like that."
I didn't get them.
So I saved all my birthday money and then some, and went out to buy the dishes.
The thing is the dishes were sold, as my mom says "by the each", meaning, since I wanted service for 8, I had to place 32 individual plates, bowls, salad plates, and mugs in my cart. Also, the dishes came in many colors and I wanted 2 blue, 2 red, 2 green and 2 yellow...of plate, bowl, salad plate, and mug. Don't worry a friend was with me. And she examined every piece before setting them in my cart with me. Then she patiently stood at the check out and helped wrap each and every plate, bowl, salad plate and mug in paper as we sacked them. Then she came into my kitchen and helped me unwrap every individual dish. By this time, the dishes were really not looking so attractive and the visions I had of setting a multicolored table in my red and yellow kitchen were not quite so appealing either. But once they were all unwrapped, washed and stacked in my cabinet, I was thrilled. When I set the table the first few nights, I was thrilled.
Until I noticed the chips in the finish on some of the dishes.
First I thought it was a fluke, so I actually went out and replaced a blue dinner plate and a green bowl because they were chipped. Then I kept noticing more chips. Also they got VERY HOT when I microwaved them. So I looked at the bottom of one. "Dishwasher safe." Wait, what? Not microwave safe? Oh for the love of Pete. How can dishes not be microwave safe in 2005? And why in the world were they chipping? Why were these dishes that took two hours to purchase at the mall one day turning into a nightmare? What about my beautiful magazine-photo table settings?
So it was a sad day when I stacked the dishes and carried them to the basement kitchen to be stored and brought out very rarely. It was an even sadder day when I resigned myself to a boring table setting and bought dishes at Wal-Mart, in PLAIN WHITE for about one-fourth of the cost of my ideal colorful ones.
Then it was the bath accessories. I have never been one to buy a ceramic waste can, soap pump, tissue holder, etc for my bathrooms. Mainly because I haven't had border or curtains that came with all the matching stuff. And also, they can be quite expensive and I just haven't chosen to spend my money that way.
Until I found the set that "are the perfect match to the paint on our bedroom and bathroom walls, honey." Since our master bedroom and bath are painted a very, uh, well unique color (kind of tomato reddish) I was thrilled when I found a ceramic bath set in a floral print that really complimented our walls. So I bought 2 cups, two soap pumps, and one little soap dish (which I use for tiny perfume bottles)at first to go on our sinks.
Within one week, I had knocked my cup off into the sink and broke it into about 4 pieces. Well, sugarfoot. I replaced it. The next week, I picked up the soap pump to clean it and it came clean off the base (which by the way is a beautiful wood). Well, sugarfoot again. Then Paul picked up his cup one evening and it came clean off the base. So we spent some time one Saturday gluing our bath accessories back onto their bases, using my hand weights to brace them (see honey, not all exercise equipment is a waste of money around here.) And now to top it off, the beautiful wood bases of the bath accessories are chipping. CHIPPING! Now perhaps they shouldn't get damp, but you would think a decent bath accessory would be able to tolerate a little dampness considering it is being placed IN A BATHROOM!! So my plans to go back later and buy the tissue box have been cancelled. Same for the waste basket.
And now it is the jacket.
I noticed it while I was walking at the mall one morning before Christmas. I showed it to Paul and he said "Don't you have one kind of like that?" Which shocked me because I didn't think he knew what was hanging in our closet. I must be more careful. About 5 weeks later, I noticed that the jacket was still there and that there was one left in my size. Knowing I could wear it with many different things, I decided to go ahead and buy it. After all, I'm working now.
The jacket snags. Very easily. When I move my arm it snags against the zipper. When I carry my pen wrong at work, it snags. When my necklace catches on it, it snags. When I wore it to church, I spent the 15 minutes between Sunday School and Church services tediously pulling threads back through all over my right arm. Here's the thing. It's a pretty jacket. Really pretty. But it is very unpleasant to wear.
So a few things are looking better to me now:
paper plates
bottles of "Equate" liquid hand soap and
the other jacket "kind of like that."
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
FORTY IS NOT BAD....NOT BAD AT ALL
Yesterday I turned 40.
I waited all day for the depression to hit. I had been warned by a couple people that I would feel it. "You just wait. When you're 40, you'll be depressed and have a hard time too."
And...not so much.
I love being 40. Actually I think it's silly to be depressed about a birthday. Why get depressed that God has given me one more year?
So my sweet husband got me a chocolate cake with chocolate icing. And no flowers or writing because I do not like white icing at all, and I think the decorations ruin the taste. And we went out to eat with friends for dinner after a massive snow storm. Both the kids were very sweet too.
Kayla got me a set of jewlery - necklace, earrings, and bracelet. It has everything - gold, silver and "diamonds" I love sparkles.
Blake got me a big book of the comic strip "Zits." Have you seen it in your paper? It absolutely cracks me up. It's simply about life with a teenage boy and it is SO VERY ACCURATE. For instance, the one I turned to last night, showed his parents asking him basic questions about his day, but with each question they asked, he was imagining himself in a different medieval torture device. It is SOOOO Blake.
And Paul got me a little CD player to hang under my cabinets in my craft room. But here's the thing...a little TV screen pops down. So now I can watch Andy Griffith and Super Nanny while I'm crafting.
And my coworkers had decorated my desk with black streamers yesterday morning, and brought in donuts and gave me a really cute card.
Also, on the way home from work yesterday, driving through five inches of snow, I came across a young kid who had run off the road and damaged all of his tires. It was right outside the mall, so we were in a very high traffic area. He started walking and I could not help but think that in a year, that could be Blake. Two other ladies had stopped, and rolled down their windows and said something to him but drove on. I offered to make a call for him and I could tell he was close to crying. So I offered him a ride home. Turns out he goes to Blake's school, knows Blake and is just a year older than Blake. His home was about 2 miles away and he was planning to walk. It was 14 degrees at the time and, being a teenage boy, he had no hat or gloves, and his coat was hanging open. So all the way to his house he kept telling me how he sure hated to call his dad and tell him, that his dad was going to be furious and kill him. I asked about his mom and she happens to work out of state through the week (at Paul's company, actually). I tried to tell him that his dad will be thrilled he was ok, and that in this weather even adults have accidents, and he said that he wasn't supposed to be out driving (the kids had been released from school early and evidently he had decided he could make it to the mall.) So there is that disobedience issue, I guess. But I prayed all the way home, that his dad would handle this well and not let anger make him blind to what was important. And, of course I worried all evening and have even thought about calling this evening just to make sure he is still ok.
*************************************************************************************
Kayla stayed home sick today. Paul stayed home for the morning because we had the repairman come for the refrigerator(to be discussed later). He went to work at 12:30 and I got home at 2:30 so Kayla only had to stay home for 2 hours without us. And being nearly 13, she was fine with that, since she wasn't vomiting and just has a cold and slight fever.
I, however, hate it. I left Blake home sick one day last week, although he called Paul at 11 and had him take him to school. And I hated that too.
Even though they are nearly 13 and 15 1/2, I do not like leaving them home sick. Especially for me to work part time when we are not desperate for the money. The kids are fine with it, but I just know there are little things I would be doing if I were home. I would be offering popsicles. I would freshen their cold drinks. I would ask them what movies they wanted to watch. I would just peek into their rooms and watch them sleep for a moment. And I would just know. Know that I was the one there in case they needed something.
I know we are blessed. I know we are blessed that I have this ideal job and that Paul has a job where he can usually stay home, leave early, go in late. And I especially know we are blessed that I don't HAVE to work. But I have been praying for an answer to this question: Am I really meant to be working, even just part time? Am I only working because society says that, with my children nearly grown, I should be?
The uncertainty at work does not help the constant feeling of being unsettled. With the changes that happened in the fall, brokers and other staff started asking me if I was going to be let go. To which I respond, "uh...I sure don't know."
So today when I left Kayla I thought "ok. This is it. I am not going back to work next August." Isn't it ok to be a stay at home mom even when your kids are older? Isn't it ok to ENJOY the role of homemaker in 2007? But I have already found myself questioning again. What does God intend for me to do? Does my resolve lately to stay home again mean He has answered my question? Or does it mean I am not waiting for His answer? How will I know his answer?
Anyway, Happy Birthday to Me. And for those of you who have 40 to look forward to...
It's not bad. Not bad at all.
I waited all day for the depression to hit. I had been warned by a couple people that I would feel it. "You just wait. When you're 40, you'll be depressed and have a hard time too."
And...not so much.
I love being 40. Actually I think it's silly to be depressed about a birthday. Why get depressed that God has given me one more year?
So my sweet husband got me a chocolate cake with chocolate icing. And no flowers or writing because I do not like white icing at all, and I think the decorations ruin the taste. And we went out to eat with friends for dinner after a massive snow storm. Both the kids were very sweet too.
Kayla got me a set of jewlery - necklace, earrings, and bracelet. It has everything - gold, silver and "diamonds" I love sparkles.
Blake got me a big book of the comic strip "Zits." Have you seen it in your paper? It absolutely cracks me up. It's simply about life with a teenage boy and it is SO VERY ACCURATE. For instance, the one I turned to last night, showed his parents asking him basic questions about his day, but with each question they asked, he was imagining himself in a different medieval torture device. It is SOOOO Blake.
And Paul got me a little CD player to hang under my cabinets in my craft room. But here's the thing...a little TV screen pops down. So now I can watch Andy Griffith and Super Nanny while I'm crafting.
And my coworkers had decorated my desk with black streamers yesterday morning, and brought in donuts and gave me a really cute card.
Also, on the way home from work yesterday, driving through five inches of snow, I came across a young kid who had run off the road and damaged all of his tires. It was right outside the mall, so we were in a very high traffic area. He started walking and I could not help but think that in a year, that could be Blake. Two other ladies had stopped, and rolled down their windows and said something to him but drove on. I offered to make a call for him and I could tell he was close to crying. So I offered him a ride home. Turns out he goes to Blake's school, knows Blake and is just a year older than Blake. His home was about 2 miles away and he was planning to walk. It was 14 degrees at the time and, being a teenage boy, he had no hat or gloves, and his coat was hanging open. So all the way to his house he kept telling me how he sure hated to call his dad and tell him, that his dad was going to be furious and kill him. I asked about his mom and she happens to work out of state through the week (at Paul's company, actually). I tried to tell him that his dad will be thrilled he was ok, and that in this weather even adults have accidents, and he said that he wasn't supposed to be out driving (the kids had been released from school early and evidently he had decided he could make it to the mall.) So there is that disobedience issue, I guess. But I prayed all the way home, that his dad would handle this well and not let anger make him blind to what was important. And, of course I worried all evening and have even thought about calling this evening just to make sure he is still ok.
*************************************************************************************
Kayla stayed home sick today. Paul stayed home for the morning because we had the repairman come for the refrigerator(to be discussed later). He went to work at 12:30 and I got home at 2:30 so Kayla only had to stay home for 2 hours without us. And being nearly 13, she was fine with that, since she wasn't vomiting and just has a cold and slight fever.
I, however, hate it. I left Blake home sick one day last week, although he called Paul at 11 and had him take him to school. And I hated that too.
Even though they are nearly 13 and 15 1/2, I do not like leaving them home sick. Especially for me to work part time when we are not desperate for the money. The kids are fine with it, but I just know there are little things I would be doing if I were home. I would be offering popsicles. I would freshen their cold drinks. I would ask them what movies they wanted to watch. I would just peek into their rooms and watch them sleep for a moment. And I would just know. Know that I was the one there in case they needed something.
I know we are blessed. I know we are blessed that I have this ideal job and that Paul has a job where he can usually stay home, leave early, go in late. And I especially know we are blessed that I don't HAVE to work. But I have been praying for an answer to this question: Am I really meant to be working, even just part time? Am I only working because society says that, with my children nearly grown, I should be?
The uncertainty at work does not help the constant feeling of being unsettled. With the changes that happened in the fall, brokers and other staff started asking me if I was going to be let go. To which I respond, "uh...I sure don't know."
So today when I left Kayla I thought "ok. This is it. I am not going back to work next August." Isn't it ok to be a stay at home mom even when your kids are older? Isn't it ok to ENJOY the role of homemaker in 2007? But I have already found myself questioning again. What does God intend for me to do? Does my resolve lately to stay home again mean He has answered my question? Or does it mean I am not waiting for His answer? How will I know his answer?
Anyway, Happy Birthday to Me. And for those of you who have 40 to look forward to...
It's not bad. Not bad at all.
Friday, February 02, 2007
I LOVE THIS...
From GRACE FOR THE MOMENT by Max Lucado - today's thought:
Holiness Among Us -
God became a baby. He entered a world...of problems and heartaches.
"The Word became human and lived here on earth among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness." John 1:14 NLT.
The operative word of the verse is "among." He lived among us. He donned the costliest of robes: a human body. He made a throne out of a manger and a royal court out of some cows. He took a common name - Jesus - and made it holy. He took common people and made them the same. He could have lived over us or away from us. But he didn't. He lived among us.
He became a friend of the sinner and brother of the poor.
"Shout and be glad, Jerusalem. I am coming, and I will live among you," says the Lord. Zechariah 2:10.
I love beautiful words. And these are some beautiful words.
Holiness Among Us -
God became a baby. He entered a world...of problems and heartaches.
"The Word became human and lived here on earth among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness." John 1:14 NLT.
The operative word of the verse is "among." He lived among us. He donned the costliest of robes: a human body. He made a throne out of a manger and a royal court out of some cows. He took a common name - Jesus - and made it holy. He took common people and made them the same. He could have lived over us or away from us. But he didn't. He lived among us.
He became a friend of the sinner and brother of the poor.
"Shout and be glad, Jerusalem. I am coming, and I will live among you," says the Lord. Zechariah 2:10.
I love beautiful words. And these are some beautiful words.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I AM A WONDERFUL MOTHER....I AM A TERRIBLE MOTHER
I confess. I watch Super Nanny. Why? Because it makes me feel like the best mother in the world. Really. It's on Monday nights - ABC I think. Any time you are feeling like a failure as a parent, try to find it. You will truly be amazed at how some people choose to parent...well actually choose NOT to parent. And you will feel like somebody will be knocking on your door any minute to present you with that all illusive Mother-of-the-Year Award.
So this past Monday I sat around all evening like a slug and watched Super Nanny. And I did my usual commenting to the TV screen; "Are you KIDDING me?" "These people are afraid of their kids." Blah, blah, blah. I was feeling PRETTY good about myself by the time Super Nanny had saved one more family.
Then, continuing in slug mode, I flipped channels until I came upon my new hero, Michelle Duggar. The Duggars are on the Learning Channel. They have 16 children. SIXTEEN CHILDREN.
Have you seen them? They are a very conservative family in Arkansas who have gained all this public attention because they are raising 16 children. They did a whole show about the house they built, and this past week was about a big vacation the family took. ALL EIGHTEEN OF THEM.
The Duggars homeschool, and their children range in ages from 18 down to a few months old. Their are two sets of twins.
When I first heard of them, I thought I'd see a husband who was a little fanatical about the word "submit." I thought maybe I'd see a family who was a little superior in their attitude and stand-offish from "the world." But no, this is a couple who truly believe they will have the children God intends them to have. They were genuinely loving and respectful - one for the other. The kids were well behaved and respectful, but not in an unnatural sense. There is humor in their home. There is tenderness and patience and discipline. And that mom? She truly glows. She truly has the spirit of God living in her. In fact, at one point I squinted and really concentrated and I am sure I saw her halo and wings. Really.
As I listened to the children one night telling the audience some house rules (amid bloopers and giggles)I was amazed at how easy she made it seem. "Never raise a hand to hit. Never raise a foot to kick. Never raise an object to throw. Never raise a voice to yell." And that is when I said it.
I AM A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!!
Oh my gosh! Some days I feel like I am drowning in uncertainty and my own incompetence trying to raise my two children. TWO CHILDREN. And she is raising SIXTEEN and making it look easy. Her husband is one lucky man, and her children are SIXTEEN lucky kids.
I bet she never lies around on a Monday night watching TV in slug mode...
So this past Monday I sat around all evening like a slug and watched Super Nanny. And I did my usual commenting to the TV screen; "Are you KIDDING me?" "These people are afraid of their kids." Blah, blah, blah. I was feeling PRETTY good about myself by the time Super Nanny had saved one more family.
Then, continuing in slug mode, I flipped channels until I came upon my new hero, Michelle Duggar. The Duggars are on the Learning Channel. They have 16 children. SIXTEEN CHILDREN.
Have you seen them? They are a very conservative family in Arkansas who have gained all this public attention because they are raising 16 children. They did a whole show about the house they built, and this past week was about a big vacation the family took. ALL EIGHTEEN OF THEM.
The Duggars homeschool, and their children range in ages from 18 down to a few months old. Their are two sets of twins.
When I first heard of them, I thought I'd see a husband who was a little fanatical about the word "submit." I thought maybe I'd see a family who was a little superior in their attitude and stand-offish from "the world." But no, this is a couple who truly believe they will have the children God intends them to have. They were genuinely loving and respectful - one for the other. The kids were well behaved and respectful, but not in an unnatural sense. There is humor in their home. There is tenderness and patience and discipline. And that mom? She truly glows. She truly has the spirit of God living in her. In fact, at one point I squinted and really concentrated and I am sure I saw her halo and wings. Really.
As I listened to the children one night telling the audience some house rules (amid bloopers and giggles)I was amazed at how easy she made it seem. "Never raise a hand to hit. Never raise a foot to kick. Never raise an object to throw. Never raise a voice to yell." And that is when I said it.
I AM A TERRIBLE MOTHER!!!!
Oh my gosh! Some days I feel like I am drowning in uncertainty and my own incompetence trying to raise my two children. TWO CHILDREN. And she is raising SIXTEEN and making it look easy. Her husband is one lucky man, and her children are SIXTEEN lucky kids.
I bet she never lies around on a Monday night watching TV in slug mode...
Saturday, January 20, 2007
POOR CUBBY...
Cubby is here this weekend. You know, Blake's best friend. Cubby's family is spending the weekend at a university, speaking to the football coach. It looks as though his big brother is going to be offered a scholarship.
Cubby's mom has often introduced me as his second mother, and we jokingly tell them that each month we look for the child support check in the mail from them. He's just one of us.
But poor Cubby could not have chosen a worse weekend to stay with us. Here were his choices for how to spend the day today:
- driving 6 hours with his family and then following his family around a college campus and/or sitting in a hotel room while they take care of college business for his brother
- spending 9 hours at a wrestling meet with Blake and Paul - his face was PRICELESS when I told him what to expect from THAT.
- spending the day at our house with ME.
He chose option #3. But I know it is only because it was the least painful of a list of very unappealing choices. Thankfully Cubby is a very (I mean VERY, VERY) easy going young man. He also happens to like Blake's X-Box LIVE, so he does have that to do all day. We tease Blake that his friends only love him for his X-Box LIVE. It is not uncommon for Blake to be in the basement watching a movie while one or more of his buddies is in his room playing X-Box LIVE. In fact, Blake told us Cubby stayed up most of the night playing. I also am under no delusions over that. I am certain he stayed up all night so that he could spend the day in sweet oblivious slumber and not having to visit with ME. Although, he did not seem at all repulsed by the idea as we discussed it at dinner last night. I told him I would bring him lunch from the mall, if I went and I asked him what kind of cookies he liked, because I'm going to make peanut butter cookies for Blake when he gets home from his tournament. Turns out Cubby doesn't like peanut butter cookies. So he will get a batch of chocolate chip. Kayla will get chocolate chip-LESS. She likes the toll house recipe without the chocolate chips (go figure) So I usually keep half of the batter plain.
I love having extra kids in the house. Really, I LOVE IT. And as my own kids grow so quickly, I have realized I will miss their friends also.
I will miss Cubby and Ryan and Drew and Sarah C and Hannah.
I have also decided that God gave us the teen years to prepare us for the empty nest. Our kids are on the go nearly all the time; going to ballgames, birthday parties, sleepovers, THE MALL...practice, games...
Weekends seem to be merely blocks of time during which we are either waiting for them to check in or preparing to take them to their next activity. Yesterday when I reminded Kayla that next Saturday we are hosting a bridal shower and I will need her help, she smiled and said "I will be sure to fit that into my schedule."
That about sums it up.
Cubby's mom has often introduced me as his second mother, and we jokingly tell them that each month we look for the child support check in the mail from them. He's just one of us.
But poor Cubby could not have chosen a worse weekend to stay with us. Here were his choices for how to spend the day today:
- driving 6 hours with his family and then following his family around a college campus and/or sitting in a hotel room while they take care of college business for his brother
- spending 9 hours at a wrestling meet with Blake and Paul - his face was PRICELESS when I told him what to expect from THAT.
- spending the day at our house with ME.
He chose option #3. But I know it is only because it was the least painful of a list of very unappealing choices. Thankfully Cubby is a very (I mean VERY, VERY) easy going young man. He also happens to like Blake's X-Box LIVE, so he does have that to do all day. We tease Blake that his friends only love him for his X-Box LIVE. It is not uncommon for Blake to be in the basement watching a movie while one or more of his buddies is in his room playing X-Box LIVE. In fact, Blake told us Cubby stayed up most of the night playing. I also am under no delusions over that. I am certain he stayed up all night so that he could spend the day in sweet oblivious slumber and not having to visit with ME. Although, he did not seem at all repulsed by the idea as we discussed it at dinner last night. I told him I would bring him lunch from the mall, if I went and I asked him what kind of cookies he liked, because I'm going to make peanut butter cookies for Blake when he gets home from his tournament. Turns out Cubby doesn't like peanut butter cookies. So he will get a batch of chocolate chip. Kayla will get chocolate chip-LESS. She likes the toll house recipe without the chocolate chips (go figure) So I usually keep half of the batter plain.
I love having extra kids in the house. Really, I LOVE IT. And as my own kids grow so quickly, I have realized I will miss their friends also.
I will miss Cubby and Ryan and Drew and Sarah C and Hannah.
I have also decided that God gave us the teen years to prepare us for the empty nest. Our kids are on the go nearly all the time; going to ballgames, birthday parties, sleepovers, THE MALL...practice, games...
Weekends seem to be merely blocks of time during which we are either waiting for them to check in or preparing to take them to their next activity. Yesterday when I reminded Kayla that next Saturday we are hosting a bridal shower and I will need her help, she smiled and said "I will be sure to fit that into my schedule."
That about sums it up.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
NOW, THAT'S JUST CRAZY...
I am a Republican. Not an Ann Coulter type Republican, but just your ordinary sort. Although there are things I disagree with regarding our current president, I voted for him and I will probably vote Republican in the next election. Although, truth be told, I vote basically on one issue. I vote Pro-Life. Period. But I do not wish this to be a discussion on political views and opinions that will cause arguments. I truly believe politics is a hot topic that is best left alone with most people, as I found out one Thanksgiving when I made an off hand comment about our previous president (whose last name is the same as my brother's first name). I didn't say anything hateful, just something like "I didn't vote for him.." But my cousin's husband nearly leaped over the pumpkin pie to defend said president and enter a heated debate with me. No thanks. I just moved on.
Anyway, as a Republican, I was just appalled at a comment I heard on the radio today on my way home from work. Somebody called in and said, based on the "Left Behind" book series, they believe Barak Obama is the Anti-Christ. Does that book really indicate that the Anti-Christ will come from an African country??? Maybe I misunderstood. But this woman was pretty clear in her opinion. I actually said, to my empty van "OH, COME ON!!!!" I think we have gone a little too far when we start calling members of the opposing party the Anti-Christ.
And here's the depressing part. This is only January of '07. We get to enjoy all of this until November of '08. UGH!!
************************************************************************************
And now a question for you.
If you had...say...$80,000 to $100,000 in an account at a certain financial institution, would you take the time to contact said financial institution to let them know of your new address so that you could receive statements and updates on all that money? I believe I would. I have spent the last couple of months trying to track down several account holders who have evidently moved and not bothered to let us know where they are. This is just crazy to me, regardless of the size of the account. I am thinking of suggesting a policy that states: If a client moves and fails to let the institution know, then said institution will try for 90 days to find client. After that time, the money will be awarded to the Low Man on the Totem Pole who has spent that 90 day period searching for said client. Finders Keepers.
Anyway, as a Republican, I was just appalled at a comment I heard on the radio today on my way home from work. Somebody called in and said, based on the "Left Behind" book series, they believe Barak Obama is the Anti-Christ. Does that book really indicate that the Anti-Christ will come from an African country??? Maybe I misunderstood. But this woman was pretty clear in her opinion. I actually said, to my empty van "OH, COME ON!!!!" I think we have gone a little too far when we start calling members of the opposing party the Anti-Christ.
And here's the depressing part. This is only January of '07. We get to enjoy all of this until November of '08. UGH!!
************************************************************************************
And now a question for you.
If you had...say...$80,000 to $100,000 in an account at a certain financial institution, would you take the time to contact said financial institution to let them know of your new address so that you could receive statements and updates on all that money? I believe I would. I have spent the last couple of months trying to track down several account holders who have evidently moved and not bothered to let us know where they are. This is just crazy to me, regardless of the size of the account. I am thinking of suggesting a policy that states: If a client moves and fails to let the institution know, then said institution will try for 90 days to find client. After that time, the money will be awarded to the Low Man on the Totem Pole who has spent that 90 day period searching for said client. Finders Keepers.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
HOUSEHOLD ITEMS I JUST CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT
I'm giving a wedding shower in a couple weeks so I've got household things on my mind. What does every bride need? Though most of these would not make a nice gift, they are the things I simply HAVE to have in the house:
- Ziplock bags. I love these things. The gallon size ones. I use them for EVERYTHING and usually buy them in bulk at Sam's. I know; I have issues. I store food in them; produce, leftover pancakes, cookies, blocks of cheese, opened packs of brown sugar. I store odds-n-ends in them; straws, plastic forks and spoons, chip clips, craft supplies. I used to use them to send papers to school with the kids on rainy days. I carry toiletries in them when I travel (because if they spill they won't ruin a ziplock bag, as opposed to an expensive cosmetic bag.)My love of Ziplock bags probably is connected to my obsession...I mean passion for purses.
- Paper towels. I use a gazillion paper towels in a week. I use them to clean my counter tops a couple times a day. I dry my hands with them. I spot clean the floor with them. I actually have a paper towel holder in my kids' bathroom because I was deluded enough to think they would grab one every morning and wipe out their sinks. So I grab one a couple times a week to wipe out their sinks. Again, I always buy these in bulk and I'm pretty sure it drives Paul crazy.
- SOS pads. If every cleaning supply were taken away from me but these, I'd survive. They are the handiest little things and make my sinks and faucets sparkle. I love things that sparkle.
- My little wooden stool. I am short and I got tired of dragging a bar stool around the kitchen to reach things from the tops of the cabinets so I bought a little wooden stool with a handle cut into the top. It matches my cabinets. Oh, and toddlers love to sit on it. It's just their size. I also keep a Rubbermaid stool in my closet to reach things on the top shelves.
- My pampered chef mini spatula. It is the PERFECT size for small brownies, bar cookies, and cake slices. Ok, it is so small that I end up eating 4 brownies instead of two, but you get the picture. I have considered buying another one of these because I get a little rattled when it's in the dishwasher and I need it.
- My electric griddle. I finally bought one of these when Blake started eating 4 pancakes at a time. Seems he would grab the four fresh ones off the stove top griddle before Kayla even had a chance. Now Blake grabs 6 pancakes at a time and there are two left for Kayla (before I start the second batch) I LOVE being able to cook so many things at once. It is especially handy when the kids have company. You can fit a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches on that thing. Those of you with more than one child...say triplets, perhaps...should think of getting one of these.
- My label maker. OK, I go through phases with this, but when I'm in my organized phase, this thing is SO FUN. If my children were pre-schoolers, I'd have everything in the house labeled "for learning purposes" - PHONE...CHAIR...TELEVISION...CAT...
- Liquid hand soap. I do not think I am phobic about germs but I wash my hands a lot. I keep a bottle on both sinks in our master bathroom. I will probably go through 3 bottles to every one of Paul's(but that could be a guy thing. I always have lots of liquid hand soap on standby in the laundry room - in a little plastic basket labeled HANDSOAP.
- My iron. I iron EVERYTHING. I got this from my college room mate who even ironed her t-shirts. I keep my ironing board set up in my bedroom because I know I will be using it every morning. My grandma used to iron her sheets, but I have not gone that far yet.
Umm. That's probably it. But I'm sure Kayla will read this and be able to remind me of a few other quirks I have not mentioned. Right, Kayla? I still do not know what I'll get the bride and groom. I'm thinking a gift basket with these items in it would look a little neurotic.
- Ziplock bags. I love these things. The gallon size ones. I use them for EVERYTHING and usually buy them in bulk at Sam's. I know; I have issues. I store food in them; produce, leftover pancakes, cookies, blocks of cheese, opened packs of brown sugar. I store odds-n-ends in them; straws, plastic forks and spoons, chip clips, craft supplies. I used to use them to send papers to school with the kids on rainy days. I carry toiletries in them when I travel (because if they spill they won't ruin a ziplock bag, as opposed to an expensive cosmetic bag.)My love of Ziplock bags probably is connected to my obsession...I mean passion for purses.
- Paper towels. I use a gazillion paper towels in a week. I use them to clean my counter tops a couple times a day. I dry my hands with them. I spot clean the floor with them. I actually have a paper towel holder in my kids' bathroom because I was deluded enough to think they would grab one every morning and wipe out their sinks. So I grab one a couple times a week to wipe out their sinks. Again, I always buy these in bulk and I'm pretty sure it drives Paul crazy.
- SOS pads. If every cleaning supply were taken away from me but these, I'd survive. They are the handiest little things and make my sinks and faucets sparkle. I love things that sparkle.
- My little wooden stool. I am short and I got tired of dragging a bar stool around the kitchen to reach things from the tops of the cabinets so I bought a little wooden stool with a handle cut into the top. It matches my cabinets. Oh, and toddlers love to sit on it. It's just their size. I also keep a Rubbermaid stool in my closet to reach things on the top shelves.
- My pampered chef mini spatula. It is the PERFECT size for small brownies, bar cookies, and cake slices. Ok, it is so small that I end up eating 4 brownies instead of two, but you get the picture. I have considered buying another one of these because I get a little rattled when it's in the dishwasher and I need it.
- My electric griddle. I finally bought one of these when Blake started eating 4 pancakes at a time. Seems he would grab the four fresh ones off the stove top griddle before Kayla even had a chance. Now Blake grabs 6 pancakes at a time and there are two left for Kayla (before I start the second batch) I LOVE being able to cook so many things at once. It is especially handy when the kids have company. You can fit a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches on that thing. Those of you with more than one child...say triplets, perhaps...should think of getting one of these.
- My label maker. OK, I go through phases with this, but when I'm in my organized phase, this thing is SO FUN. If my children were pre-schoolers, I'd have everything in the house labeled "for learning purposes" - PHONE...CHAIR...TELEVISION...CAT...
- Liquid hand soap. I do not think I am phobic about germs but I wash my hands a lot. I keep a bottle on both sinks in our master bathroom. I will probably go through 3 bottles to every one of Paul's(but that could be a guy thing. I always have lots of liquid hand soap on standby in the laundry room - in a little plastic basket labeled HANDSOAP.
- My iron. I iron EVERYTHING. I got this from my college room mate who even ironed her t-shirts. I keep my ironing board set up in my bedroom because I know I will be using it every morning. My grandma used to iron her sheets, but I have not gone that far yet.
Umm. That's probably it. But I'm sure Kayla will read this and be able to remind me of a few other quirks I have not mentioned. Right, Kayla? I still do not know what I'll get the bride and groom. I'm thinking a gift basket with these items in it would look a little neurotic.
Friday, January 12, 2007
THE WEDDING PART 2: NOSTALGIA
Kayla has asked me what this nostalgia thing was going to be about and I told her "oh, just memories and stuff..."
It is interesting to sit at a wedding and remember holding the groom in your arms when he was a newborn baby. And it is interesting how one memory leads to another, and then another, until you can sit back and sigh in contentment or you can collapse in a puddle of tears at how quickly these children have grown up.
Ryan was born during my freshman year at college, and since I went to school in Arkansas, I didn't get home much to see him as a little one. I spent more time with his older sisters because I was in high school when they were babies/toddlers. I have always thought; however, that it was very thoughtful of Ryan to be born on Thanksgiving Day during my freshman year. At least I was home on break and could see him a little bit before going back to school.
So back to the wedding. When Kara, age 3, walked in with her fancy hairdo and dress, I of course was taken back to my wedding day when her mother, my second niece, was one of my flower girls. Michelle was ALMOST 3 on my wedding day. Michelle was a little blondie and Kara has dark hair. Other than that, it could have been Michelle walking down that aisle. I have never seen a child look more like a parent than Kara. Her face, her mannerisms, her movements. It is amazing.
So that memory of Michelle, of course made me think of her older sister, Angela, my first niece. She was also a flower girl at my wedding. Five years ago, when Angela got married, wearing my wedding gown and my sister's veil, my daughter was her flower girl. I remember looking at her wedding pictures and remembering her as a little girl at my wedding and realizing again what a blessing Angela has been to our family. Here's why.
Angela came into our family when she was 18 months old. Her mother had been married before and so when my brother Terry married Carol, we got an instant grandaughter/niece. I believe, to the very core of my being, that Angela was sent by God. I often kind of laugh that her name is so close to ANGEL.
Soon after my brother got married, my great grandmother (my mom's maternal grandmother)Grandma Hale had a stroke. She died about a month later. Grandma Hale had been my mom's rock. Having lost her own mother when she was 26, my mom became very close to Grandma Hale. We NEVER missed a Sunday afternoon at Grandma Hale's - even after we moved 50 miles away. We four kids used to walk by her house and stop in after school and have cookies and ice water (before we moved out of town). I remember staying at Grandma Hale's house one evening while my parents went out. She made a TRIPLE batch of chocolate drop cookies and just watched us all evening run back and forth to the kitchen and eat EVERY ONE OF THEM (because that's what grandmas do) Well, there were four of us afterall. My mom told me that when my brother Clint was 4 or 5, she left him with Grandma Hale. When she got back Grandma said he had cried a little when Mom left. Until Grandma got out her cutting board and a small hammer and nails. She sat down and helped Clint hammer nails into her cutting board. To this day, those nails are still in that wooden cutting board. Anyway, I know that Grandma Hale helped my mom through many, many rough times, including a divorce; and I know her own life is a testament to what a remarkable woman she was. Her death was devastating to my mother. Especially since my mom suffers from clinical depression. The loss could very well have been crippling.
But there was Angela. I was in high school during all of this and I remember Mom picking me up from track practice with Angela. Angela would come running down the hall and jump into my arms. Then she'd spend the evening with us. Or the whole night. Or two nights. Or three nights. Everything quickly became about Angela. If Angela wanted a bath at 4 in the afternoon while she was visiting, she got a bath. If Angela woke up and cried for Aunt Heidi, Aunt Heidi (gladly) got up and put her in bed with her - even at 3 in the morning. If Angela wanted apples peeled and sliced, Angela got her apples peeled and sliced ON EVERY VISIT. Uncle Clint would drag her through the house on a blanket. Or he'd grab one end of the blanket and I'd grab another and we'd swing her in it like a hammock. Over and Over again we'd swing her while she sang "Rock-a-Bye, Rock-a-Bye".
It was all about taking Angela for ice cream and buying cute little clothes for Angela. When is the next time we'll see Angela? The pile of gifts for Angela from Grandma on Christmas was easily twice as tall as she. Because that's what grandmas do. Angela did not run roughshod over all of us. We had not given control of the family to a toddler. But we all had a place to put our grief because of Angela. God knew that the way to restore joy to our hearts was to bring us a child. And Grandma Hale would have agreed completely. I honestly don't know how my mom would have handled the loss of her grandmother if Angela had not been placed into our lives.
Terry legally adopted Angela when she was four. And it was just a legal thing. Because she was already his. She was already ours. If you could have seen my brother give her away at her wedding, and then watch him dance with her at her reception, to Louis Armstrong's "It's a Wondeful World," you'd know exactly what I mean.
So that's the nostalgia. From my nephew's wedding, to my own wedding, to my niece's wedding, to grief, and then joy. Because of a little Angel. Plus "a".
It is interesting to sit at a wedding and remember holding the groom in your arms when he was a newborn baby. And it is interesting how one memory leads to another, and then another, until you can sit back and sigh in contentment or you can collapse in a puddle of tears at how quickly these children have grown up.
Ryan was born during my freshman year at college, and since I went to school in Arkansas, I didn't get home much to see him as a little one. I spent more time with his older sisters because I was in high school when they were babies/toddlers. I have always thought; however, that it was very thoughtful of Ryan to be born on Thanksgiving Day during my freshman year. At least I was home on break and could see him a little bit before going back to school.
So back to the wedding. When Kara, age 3, walked in with her fancy hairdo and dress, I of course was taken back to my wedding day when her mother, my second niece, was one of my flower girls. Michelle was ALMOST 3 on my wedding day. Michelle was a little blondie and Kara has dark hair. Other than that, it could have been Michelle walking down that aisle. I have never seen a child look more like a parent than Kara. Her face, her mannerisms, her movements. It is amazing.
So that memory of Michelle, of course made me think of her older sister, Angela, my first niece. She was also a flower girl at my wedding. Five years ago, when Angela got married, wearing my wedding gown and my sister's veil, my daughter was her flower girl. I remember looking at her wedding pictures and remembering her as a little girl at my wedding and realizing again what a blessing Angela has been to our family. Here's why.
Angela came into our family when she was 18 months old. Her mother had been married before and so when my brother Terry married Carol, we got an instant grandaughter/niece. I believe, to the very core of my being, that Angela was sent by God. I often kind of laugh that her name is so close to ANGEL.
Soon after my brother got married, my great grandmother (my mom's maternal grandmother)Grandma Hale had a stroke. She died about a month later. Grandma Hale had been my mom's rock. Having lost her own mother when she was 26, my mom became very close to Grandma Hale. We NEVER missed a Sunday afternoon at Grandma Hale's - even after we moved 50 miles away. We four kids used to walk by her house and stop in after school and have cookies and ice water (before we moved out of town). I remember staying at Grandma Hale's house one evening while my parents went out. She made a TRIPLE batch of chocolate drop cookies and just watched us all evening run back and forth to the kitchen and eat EVERY ONE OF THEM (because that's what grandmas do) Well, there were four of us afterall. My mom told me that when my brother Clint was 4 or 5, she left him with Grandma Hale. When she got back Grandma said he had cried a little when Mom left. Until Grandma got out her cutting board and a small hammer and nails. She sat down and helped Clint hammer nails into her cutting board. To this day, those nails are still in that wooden cutting board. Anyway, I know that Grandma Hale helped my mom through many, many rough times, including a divorce; and I know her own life is a testament to what a remarkable woman she was. Her death was devastating to my mother. Especially since my mom suffers from clinical depression. The loss could very well have been crippling.
But there was Angela. I was in high school during all of this and I remember Mom picking me up from track practice with Angela. Angela would come running down the hall and jump into my arms. Then she'd spend the evening with us. Or the whole night. Or two nights. Or three nights. Everything quickly became about Angela. If Angela wanted a bath at 4 in the afternoon while she was visiting, she got a bath. If Angela woke up and cried for Aunt Heidi, Aunt Heidi (gladly) got up and put her in bed with her - even at 3 in the morning. If Angela wanted apples peeled and sliced, Angela got her apples peeled and sliced ON EVERY VISIT. Uncle Clint would drag her through the house on a blanket. Or he'd grab one end of the blanket and I'd grab another and we'd swing her in it like a hammock. Over and Over again we'd swing her while she sang "Rock-a-Bye, Rock-a-Bye".
It was all about taking Angela for ice cream and buying cute little clothes for Angela. When is the next time we'll see Angela? The pile of gifts for Angela from Grandma on Christmas was easily twice as tall as she. Because that's what grandmas do. Angela did not run roughshod over all of us. We had not given control of the family to a toddler. But we all had a place to put our grief because of Angela. God knew that the way to restore joy to our hearts was to bring us a child. And Grandma Hale would have agreed completely. I honestly don't know how my mom would have handled the loss of her grandmother if Angela had not been placed into our lives.
Terry legally adopted Angela when she was four. And it was just a legal thing. Because she was already his. She was already ours. If you could have seen my brother give her away at her wedding, and then watch him dance with her at her reception, to Louis Armstrong's "It's a Wondeful World," you'd know exactly what I mean.
So that's the nostalgia. From my nephew's wedding, to my own wedding, to my niece's wedding, to grief, and then joy. Because of a little Angel. Plus "a".
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
JUST A BIT OF IRONY...
Yesterday at work I shipped a package to a UPS office on the East Coast. Via FedEx.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
THE WEDDING PART 1: THAT FLOWER GIRL'S GOT IT MADE
Yesterday was a big day. We went to my nephew's wedding. Yes, my nephew got married.
We walked into the church and there he sat in a chair in the foyer looking as happy and relaxed as a man can be.
It was a very sweet wedding. When the flower girls, one of whom is my great-niece walked in, I looked at Ryan, the groom. Seeing his little niece, Kara, who is 3 and thinks he's pretty darn cool, he just broke into a big grin. Then I saw the beautiful bride at the door and I looked back at Ryan just in time to see him brush a tear from his eye.
Throughout the ceremony, when the bride and groom had only eyes and hearts for each other, I found myself thinking "yep, they're going to make it just fine." My reasoning for this conclusion? They were both so relaxed and easy going about the whole day. When neither grandmother felt comfortable being ushered in to sit alone, per tradition, they both shrugged their shoulders and said "fine, whatever you're comfortable with..." When the flower girls, both 3 years old and cute as you can imagine, were quite wiggly and even a little talkative; no problem. Although, honestly I bet they didn't even notice, they were so interested in each other. You could just feel their ease and happiness. I have always said it would be nice if young couples put as much energy into making their future marriage perfect as they do making their wedding day perfect. I just had a feeling throughout the ceremony that the bride and groom knew what was important; not the picture perfect details with which they could have been consumed, but the end result. They would be married whether the flower girls wiggled or not. They would be married whether the candles stayed lit or not. They would be married whether each etiquette rule was kept or not.
And at the reception, as the wedding party sat at the head table before the meal, up runs Kara to sit with Uncle Ryan. Did he shoo her away and send her to "her spot?" Nope. He scooped her up and sat her on his lap. And a few minutes later Kara scooted from his lap to his bride's, where she was cuddled and loved and encouraged to settle in, right there in the midst of their bridal dinner. Now I think that was romantic.
Let me just say something about these flower girls. Anybody that has children in their wedding, surely must expect some comedy. These two little girls did a beautiful job spreading their petals up the aisle. Then they took their spot in line with the attendants. Where they did a very good job of sitting still. They also did a very good job of being quiet. Just not at the same time. When they jabbered to each other, they were sitting perfectly still. When they wiggled around, and even ran up the aisle a little way to try to gather their petals back into their baskets, they were perfectly quiet. I am certain that the adults at the rehearsal said "Kelsey and Kara, you must sit still and be VERY QUIET while you stand up here with the big people." I am almost certain that nobody clarified that they were expected to do both at the same time. Otherwise, I'm sure they would have. They are 3 after all. They were so cute, they even found themselves getting paid after the ceremony to gather the petals and put them back in their baskets. It was my husband who decided Kara needed something to do as we all waited for pictures and everything. So he said "Kara, you go pick up all those petals and then find Aunt Heidi and she'll give you a dollar." So she picked them all up and then found me in the crowd and held out her little hand. Paul had not informed me of his negotiations and just sat back and laughed while he watched me dig my money out for the deal he had struck on my behalf. I told him he would have fainted dead away if I had given her the 20 I first pulled out (which I eventually gave to Ryan for his dollar dance, even though I didn't dance with him) So Kara ended up collecting 4 dollars for gathering flower petals. Then I found Kelsey and figured I should pay her so I paid her just for being cute. I figure if my current job doesn't work out I'll apply for a flower girl position. Kara made 4 dollars for 30 minutes work. Not bad for someone who can't tie her shoes.
And this final note is for my Church of Christ friends. When the wedding party was dancing I noticed one of the (very handsome) ushers on the dance floor. He happens to be from a VERY (I mean VERY VERY) conservative Church of Christ family. So I was tempted to go up to him and shake my finger in his face and spout scripture about the evils of dancing. There are two reasons I did not do this:
1. I would have been out there myself cutting a rug, had we stayed long enough, and
2. He was dancing with Kara.
And that's one of the sweetest things I've seen in a while.
Next time: The Wedding Part 2: Nostalgia.
We walked into the church and there he sat in a chair in the foyer looking as happy and relaxed as a man can be.
It was a very sweet wedding. When the flower girls, one of whom is my great-niece walked in, I looked at Ryan, the groom. Seeing his little niece, Kara, who is 3 and thinks he's pretty darn cool, he just broke into a big grin. Then I saw the beautiful bride at the door and I looked back at Ryan just in time to see him brush a tear from his eye.
Throughout the ceremony, when the bride and groom had only eyes and hearts for each other, I found myself thinking "yep, they're going to make it just fine." My reasoning for this conclusion? They were both so relaxed and easy going about the whole day. When neither grandmother felt comfortable being ushered in to sit alone, per tradition, they both shrugged their shoulders and said "fine, whatever you're comfortable with..." When the flower girls, both 3 years old and cute as you can imagine, were quite wiggly and even a little talkative; no problem. Although, honestly I bet they didn't even notice, they were so interested in each other. You could just feel their ease and happiness. I have always said it would be nice if young couples put as much energy into making their future marriage perfect as they do making their wedding day perfect. I just had a feeling throughout the ceremony that the bride and groom knew what was important; not the picture perfect details with which they could have been consumed, but the end result. They would be married whether the flower girls wiggled or not. They would be married whether the candles stayed lit or not. They would be married whether each etiquette rule was kept or not.
And at the reception, as the wedding party sat at the head table before the meal, up runs Kara to sit with Uncle Ryan. Did he shoo her away and send her to "her spot?" Nope. He scooped her up and sat her on his lap. And a few minutes later Kara scooted from his lap to his bride's, where she was cuddled and loved and encouraged to settle in, right there in the midst of their bridal dinner. Now I think that was romantic.
Let me just say something about these flower girls. Anybody that has children in their wedding, surely must expect some comedy. These two little girls did a beautiful job spreading their petals up the aisle. Then they took their spot in line with the attendants. Where they did a very good job of sitting still. They also did a very good job of being quiet. Just not at the same time. When they jabbered to each other, they were sitting perfectly still. When they wiggled around, and even ran up the aisle a little way to try to gather their petals back into their baskets, they were perfectly quiet. I am certain that the adults at the rehearsal said "Kelsey and Kara, you must sit still and be VERY QUIET while you stand up here with the big people." I am almost certain that nobody clarified that they were expected to do both at the same time. Otherwise, I'm sure they would have. They are 3 after all. They were so cute, they even found themselves getting paid after the ceremony to gather the petals and put them back in their baskets. It was my husband who decided Kara needed something to do as we all waited for pictures and everything. So he said "Kara, you go pick up all those petals and then find Aunt Heidi and she'll give you a dollar." So she picked them all up and then found me in the crowd and held out her little hand. Paul had not informed me of his negotiations and just sat back and laughed while he watched me dig my money out for the deal he had struck on my behalf. I told him he would have fainted dead away if I had given her the 20 I first pulled out (which I eventually gave to Ryan for his dollar dance, even though I didn't dance with him) So Kara ended up collecting 4 dollars for gathering flower petals. Then I found Kelsey and figured I should pay her so I paid her just for being cute. I figure if my current job doesn't work out I'll apply for a flower girl position. Kara made 4 dollars for 30 minutes work. Not bad for someone who can't tie her shoes.
And this final note is for my Church of Christ friends. When the wedding party was dancing I noticed one of the (very handsome) ushers on the dance floor. He happens to be from a VERY (I mean VERY VERY) conservative Church of Christ family. So I was tempted to go up to him and shake my finger in his face and spout scripture about the evils of dancing. There are two reasons I did not do this:
1. I would have been out there myself cutting a rug, had we stayed long enough, and
2. He was dancing with Kara.
And that's one of the sweetest things I've seen in a while.
Next time: The Wedding Part 2: Nostalgia.
Friday, January 05, 2007
THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT IS AT OUR HOUSE....
I recently read something where a woman had written that she does not keep sweets in her house because her kids would overeat on sweets and never eat anything healthy. So, for her family, sweets were only for very special occasions. I respect her decision and all but it made me think about my decision to do just the opposite with my family. I DO keep sweets in the house and for the most part have never limited my kids on how often they could have them.
Let me explain. I grew up in a home where cookies and snacks were ALWAYS available and we never had to ask for a snack. I also grew up in a home where we were NEVER allowed cold cereal for breakfast. Before I left home I had NEVER seen my mom in her night gown in the morning. During my grade school years, she was always fully dressed, hair and makeup done, standing at the stove making a hot breakfast on school days, when I got out of bed. EVERY SCHOOL DAY. Cold cereal was a treat for us. She also always made a sit down supper. So she WAS concerned about a healthy diet. But she never made us limit our snacking.
Here's why. When my parents were living in military housing in Germany, they were so poor they sometimes pooled their money with the neighbors at the end of the month. They would then go shopping together and get a few items that they would share so that each family could make it until the next payday. My oldest brother was 3 years old before he ever tasted a cookie (because they could not spend their money on luxuries like cookies) and that always broke my mother's heart. So she made a promise to herself that when they got back to the states and had more money, her children would always have cookies available and they would never have to ask before they had one. And so we were free snackers. And what was my favorite food as a child? Canned corn. My mom says I would have eaten a whole can at one sitting if she'd let me. When asked my preference for lunch, I did not ask for pb&j, or cookies, or a hot dog. I asked for corn.
And now, my kids are free snackers, because it just seemed natural for me to always buy the snacks, but still encourage healthy eating. Right now I have ice cream in the freezer that the kids requested 2 weeks ago. None of the containers has been opened. On any given day, you will find, in my cupboards, cookies, Little Debbie snack cakes, and sugar cereals. What are Kayla's favorite snacks? Popcorn, carrots, yogurt and GALA apples (at age 4, she decided that GALA apples tasted better than the other types) When she was in 3rd grade she started requesting raw broccoli and ranch dressing in her lunch box. Blake eats lots of rice cakes and oranges, and drinks LOTS of skim milk. The most frequent consumers of the snacks in our house are the kids' guests (well, ok, and me). One of those boys' mothers told me her son loves our house because we keep snacks and they don't. She asked if my kids eat sugar all the time. And I could honestly say "uh...actually no, they don't reach for the sweets just because they're available. In fact, they tend to ignore the sweets."
I am certainly not trying to disparage parents who have rules regarding sweets or snacking. I truly do not care to impose my food rules on anybody else. I think the reason this article hit home with me is that I was able to look at something I had done as a parent and see success. I was able to look back on something and see that it had worked FOR US. Also, in a broader sense, it made me realize how we take for granted things that are just always there. When we have someting around ALL THE TIME, we don't necessarily desire it or feel a need for it.
HMMMM. Kind of like that Bible sitting on my desk over there....
Let me explain. I grew up in a home where cookies and snacks were ALWAYS available and we never had to ask for a snack. I also grew up in a home where we were NEVER allowed cold cereal for breakfast. Before I left home I had NEVER seen my mom in her night gown in the morning. During my grade school years, she was always fully dressed, hair and makeup done, standing at the stove making a hot breakfast on school days, when I got out of bed. EVERY SCHOOL DAY. Cold cereal was a treat for us. She also always made a sit down supper. So she WAS concerned about a healthy diet. But she never made us limit our snacking.
Here's why. When my parents were living in military housing in Germany, they were so poor they sometimes pooled their money with the neighbors at the end of the month. They would then go shopping together and get a few items that they would share so that each family could make it until the next payday. My oldest brother was 3 years old before he ever tasted a cookie (because they could not spend their money on luxuries like cookies) and that always broke my mother's heart. So she made a promise to herself that when they got back to the states and had more money, her children would always have cookies available and they would never have to ask before they had one. And so we were free snackers. And what was my favorite food as a child? Canned corn. My mom says I would have eaten a whole can at one sitting if she'd let me. When asked my preference for lunch, I did not ask for pb&j, or cookies, or a hot dog. I asked for corn.
And now, my kids are free snackers, because it just seemed natural for me to always buy the snacks, but still encourage healthy eating. Right now I have ice cream in the freezer that the kids requested 2 weeks ago. None of the containers has been opened. On any given day, you will find, in my cupboards, cookies, Little Debbie snack cakes, and sugar cereals. What are Kayla's favorite snacks? Popcorn, carrots, yogurt and GALA apples (at age 4, she decided that GALA apples tasted better than the other types) When she was in 3rd grade she started requesting raw broccoli and ranch dressing in her lunch box. Blake eats lots of rice cakes and oranges, and drinks LOTS of skim milk. The most frequent consumers of the snacks in our house are the kids' guests (well, ok, and me). One of those boys' mothers told me her son loves our house because we keep snacks and they don't. She asked if my kids eat sugar all the time. And I could honestly say "uh...actually no, they don't reach for the sweets just because they're available. In fact, they tend to ignore the sweets."
I am certainly not trying to disparage parents who have rules regarding sweets or snacking. I truly do not care to impose my food rules on anybody else. I think the reason this article hit home with me is that I was able to look at something I had done as a parent and see success. I was able to look back on something and see that it had worked FOR US. Also, in a broader sense, it made me realize how we take for granted things that are just always there. When we have someting around ALL THE TIME, we don't necessarily desire it or feel a need for it.
HMMMM. Kind of like that Bible sitting on my desk over there....
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
LIVE AND LEARN.....
THINGS I'VE LEARNED IN 2006
I've learned that 9th grade boys are funny. REALLY. REALLY. FUNNY.
I've learned that 7th grade girls are funny. REALLY. REALLY. FUNNY.
I've learned that teenagers have some sort of radar when it comes to a clean kitchen. As soon as the kitchen is in perfect conditon, they get hungry.
I've learned that as kids grow, so do their mistakes, but you keep loving them. In fact, you love them more.
I've learned that estrangement doesn't have to be forever.
I've learned that, on those days when you just don't think you can get up and face life; you manage to find a way, and it's not so bad after all.
I've learned that customer service is steadily becoming a thing of the past, so when you see a good example of it, you should acknowledge it with a great tip or at least a compliment.
I've learned it doesn't matter what my neighbor paid for his car or what the couple down the street is doing to their house. If it doesn't effect our salvation, or our safety, who cares?
I've learned that no matter how old your children are, their laughter is pure music.
I've learned that having company is about showing hospitality, not showing our house.
I've learned that when the neighbor's two-year-old throws a tantrum, it's a lot cuter than when my own children did it.
I've learned that no matter how low on the totem pole you might be at work, you should take pride in doing your job well.
I've learned that sometimes God makes something so clear to you, it's as though He has left a note on your bathroom mirror.
I've learned that sometimes I will drive a total of two hours to watch a 30-minute volleyball game. And that's just fine.
I've learned that sometimes God answers a prayer even before you've prayed it.
I've learned that wrestling is a difficult sport.
I've learned that a teenager would rather be in prison than on vacation with his family.
I've learned that any adult your teenager wishes to be around, if he/she is a positive role model, you should allow it. We can all use help doing this parenting job, and our kids need lots of people who just plain love them.
I've learned that time passes quickly. So quickly that it sometimes takes my breath away.
I've learned that hearing certain words come out of your child's mouth is like falling into an abyss. Words such as "we need to pick up my RULES OF THE ROAD book by Friday..."
And so much more....
I've learned that 9th grade boys are funny. REALLY. REALLY. FUNNY.
I've learned that 7th grade girls are funny. REALLY. REALLY. FUNNY.
I've learned that teenagers have some sort of radar when it comes to a clean kitchen. As soon as the kitchen is in perfect conditon, they get hungry.
I've learned that as kids grow, so do their mistakes, but you keep loving them. In fact, you love them more.
I've learned that estrangement doesn't have to be forever.
I've learned that, on those days when you just don't think you can get up and face life; you manage to find a way, and it's not so bad after all.
I've learned that customer service is steadily becoming a thing of the past, so when you see a good example of it, you should acknowledge it with a great tip or at least a compliment.
I've learned it doesn't matter what my neighbor paid for his car or what the couple down the street is doing to their house. If it doesn't effect our salvation, or our safety, who cares?
I've learned that no matter how old your children are, their laughter is pure music.
I've learned that having company is about showing hospitality, not showing our house.
I've learned that when the neighbor's two-year-old throws a tantrum, it's a lot cuter than when my own children did it.
I've learned that no matter how low on the totem pole you might be at work, you should take pride in doing your job well.
I've learned that sometimes God makes something so clear to you, it's as though He has left a note on your bathroom mirror.
I've learned that sometimes I will drive a total of two hours to watch a 30-minute volleyball game. And that's just fine.
I've learned that sometimes God answers a prayer even before you've prayed it.
I've learned that wrestling is a difficult sport.
I've learned that a teenager would rather be in prison than on vacation with his family.
I've learned that any adult your teenager wishes to be around, if he/she is a positive role model, you should allow it. We can all use help doing this parenting job, and our kids need lots of people who just plain love them.
I've learned that time passes quickly. So quickly that it sometimes takes my breath away.
I've learned that hearing certain words come out of your child's mouth is like falling into an abyss. Words such as "we need to pick up my RULES OF THE ROAD book by Friday..."
And so much more....
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
HISTORY IN THE BAKING
We are leaving tomorrow for South Dakota. We are spending a few post-Christmas days with my brother Clint and his wife Mary and their two great kids, Kelsey and Tristan.
Since Clint's birthday was a week ago, I decided to make some of my pineapple carrot bread that he loves and take it up to him as a post-birthday treat. But to do that, I had to enter my recipe basket. Now on the outside, my recipe basket is beautiful. It is the Longaberger recipe basket. On the inside, it's a mess. That's the way my life feels sometimes but that's another post. Some of the recipes are still on the torn out magazine page. Some are scribbled on an envelope. Some are actually just the label to the food product on which I found them. But I always figured if this way was good enough for Great Grandma Hale, it's good enough for me.
But after finding my bread recipe I decided to sort the recipes and "neaten things up a bit." That lead me to look on the web for some recipe card templates that would allow me to type the recipes in and print them out and have them all on uniform cards. But I couldn't find one I liked so I started hand writing them on 4x6 cards.
Now I am a woman possessed. And as I hand write each one, I am glad I am doing it this way. Some of the recipes in my basket are handwritten. In my grandmother's writing or in a good friend's writing. Those I will keep as they are. They are history. They are the touch of a loved one.
Some of my grandmother's are typed (she typed a lot of things - even her daily prayer list) but each of them has a handwritten note on them. Like "I use pecans" or "freeze up to 2 months." So there is that piece of her on those little faded cards.
Someday, Kayla will be looking at these cards and recognize my writing. Someday I will be looking at them and recognize her writing, as she is helping me. I will read the recipe and remember the week after Christmas, when she was 12, and she sat at the counter with me and copied recipes off of ragged magazine pages.
Ah, memories...
Since Clint's birthday was a week ago, I decided to make some of my pineapple carrot bread that he loves and take it up to him as a post-birthday treat. But to do that, I had to enter my recipe basket. Now on the outside, my recipe basket is beautiful. It is the Longaberger recipe basket. On the inside, it's a mess. That's the way my life feels sometimes but that's another post. Some of the recipes are still on the torn out magazine page. Some are scribbled on an envelope. Some are actually just the label to the food product on which I found them. But I always figured if this way was good enough for Great Grandma Hale, it's good enough for me.
But after finding my bread recipe I decided to sort the recipes and "neaten things up a bit." That lead me to look on the web for some recipe card templates that would allow me to type the recipes in and print them out and have them all on uniform cards. But I couldn't find one I liked so I started hand writing them on 4x6 cards.
Now I am a woman possessed. And as I hand write each one, I am glad I am doing it this way. Some of the recipes in my basket are handwritten. In my grandmother's writing or in a good friend's writing. Those I will keep as they are. They are history. They are the touch of a loved one.
Some of my grandmother's are typed (she typed a lot of things - even her daily prayer list) but each of them has a handwritten note on them. Like "I use pecans" or "freeze up to 2 months." So there is that piece of her on those little faded cards.
Someday, Kayla will be looking at these cards and recognize my writing. Someday I will be looking at them and recognize her writing, as she is helping me. I will read the recipe and remember the week after Christmas, when she was 12, and she sat at the counter with me and copied recipes off of ragged magazine pages.
Ah, memories...
Monday, December 25, 2006
CHRISTMAS RAMBLINGS....
So here it is 6:21 on Christmas morning and my children, ages 12 and 15 are still sleeping soundly. We allowed them to open their gifts last night. I told them that since they were old enough to realize the consequences of doing so, that there'd be no gifts in the morning, then sure they could open their gifts. They also wanted me to open mine (Really) so I did. Paul, however saved his for this morning and we toyed with the idea of revenge by making the children get up at 5 this morning and sit around while Dad opened his presents. But I love sleeping in so we decided against that. But here I am up anyway. Why? Because my husband's snoring is raising the roof. Poor baby has a cold, and his normal irritating snoring has reached a level that has made me consider separate bedrooms and perhaps even bodily harm. It has made me think of the days when my babies had colds and could not sleep at night. You know, those times when they were only comfortable and able to breathe easily when held upright. So I'd sit and rock them and pat their back and wonder if the night would ever end. With Kayla, my second, it was easier. I knew that YES the night would end, and YES I would sleep again and that this phase would be over soon enough.
I am not feeling so compassionate with my sweet husband. Several times before I got out of bed, I shot him THE LOOK. Yes, he was asleep and oblivious to it, but it gave me some degree of juvenile satisfaction. It was when I started thinking about putting the pillow over his face, FOR JUST A VERY BRIEF MOMENT, that I decided to get out of bed. It is Christmas after all.
And speaking of Chrismas, we, or actually I, caved in and bought our son an XBOX 360. Even though we had said in no uncertain terms that we would not buy ONE MORE GAME SYSTEM. Here's the clincher, though. He was certain that he was going to sell his old system and games and buy games for his new system. So we decided that yes, he would sell his old system and games but he would give the money to his mother and father because the new system was more expensive then the old one. So in essence we are making him pay for part of his Christmas gift. But we think this is fair and he is old enough to understand that. Also, it is the XBOX 360 that has proven to me that a teenager's peers have more influence on him than his teachers. Every time Blake would ask for it (or shamelessly beg) he would do so beautifully in French. The trouble is Blake is taking Spanish. His friends are taking French, though. My apologies to the teachers at MFHS. For so many things....
Kayla got the digital camera she has been hoping for. She is doing a major clean up on her room and has already shot some "before" photos in anticipation of the "after." She loves to take pictures, especially when she is with her friends. She can do some pretty clever things with these pictures on the computer. She also got a really neat hair system, with a straightener/blow dryer combo. And she got a Celine Dion perfume set and several items of softball and basketball clothing from a great new catalog I discovered. And she got two pair of flannel pajama pants. It just about killed me NOT to buy the tops that matched these pants, but teens (and preteens) simply DO NOT wear matching tops with their flannel pajama pants. I think it is actually agains some slumber party fashion law or something and since it is Christmas I did not want to be responsible for that.
I remember my first Christmas with both children. I commented to my mother "I am so blessed. I get to buy firetrucks AND baby dolls..." No more fire trucks and baby dolls. But also no more staying up until midnight playing Santa...
So I guess I will start making the peanut butter pie my kids requested for Christmas. We will be having that after our taco bar for lunch, which they also requested. I know it is not a traditional Christmas meal but it is what they wanted. And who can say no to children at Christmas?
I am not feeling so compassionate with my sweet husband. Several times before I got out of bed, I shot him THE LOOK. Yes, he was asleep and oblivious to it, but it gave me some degree of juvenile satisfaction. It was when I started thinking about putting the pillow over his face, FOR JUST A VERY BRIEF MOMENT, that I decided to get out of bed. It is Christmas after all.
And speaking of Chrismas, we, or actually I, caved in and bought our son an XBOX 360. Even though we had said in no uncertain terms that we would not buy ONE MORE GAME SYSTEM. Here's the clincher, though. He was certain that he was going to sell his old system and games and buy games for his new system. So we decided that yes, he would sell his old system and games but he would give the money to his mother and father because the new system was more expensive then the old one. So in essence we are making him pay for part of his Christmas gift. But we think this is fair and he is old enough to understand that. Also, it is the XBOX 360 that has proven to me that a teenager's peers have more influence on him than his teachers. Every time Blake would ask for it (or shamelessly beg) he would do so beautifully in French. The trouble is Blake is taking Spanish. His friends are taking French, though. My apologies to the teachers at MFHS. For so many things....
Kayla got the digital camera she has been hoping for. She is doing a major clean up on her room and has already shot some "before" photos in anticipation of the "after." She loves to take pictures, especially when she is with her friends. She can do some pretty clever things with these pictures on the computer. She also got a really neat hair system, with a straightener/blow dryer combo. And she got a Celine Dion perfume set and several items of softball and basketball clothing from a great new catalog I discovered. And she got two pair of flannel pajama pants. It just about killed me NOT to buy the tops that matched these pants, but teens (and preteens) simply DO NOT wear matching tops with their flannel pajama pants. I think it is actually agains some slumber party fashion law or something and since it is Christmas I did not want to be responsible for that.
I remember my first Christmas with both children. I commented to my mother "I am so blessed. I get to buy firetrucks AND baby dolls..." No more fire trucks and baby dolls. But also no more staying up until midnight playing Santa...
So I guess I will start making the peanut butter pie my kids requested for Christmas. We will be having that after our taco bar for lunch, which they also requested. I know it is not a traditional Christmas meal but it is what they wanted. And who can say no to children at Christmas?
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
I APOLOGIZE FOR THE MORBID NATURE OF THIS POST......
Every now and then somebody does something that I simply cannot get my mind around, no matter how hard I try. 3 years ago when a mother allowed her children to drown in a car just 20 miles up the road from us, allegedly to be rid of them so she could have a better relationship with her boyfriend, I just could not comprehend what she had done. Recently, when her trial was moved to our city, I never even considered the possibility that she might be found not guilty of murdering those three precious babies. Well, yesterday she was. Found not guilty that is. She was instead found guilty of a lesser charge of child endangerment. That means, if you or I left our toddler home alone for a couple of hours, that would result in the same punishment that this lady could be facing for ALLOWING HER THREE BABIES TO DROWN IN A LAKE. I cannot for the life of me figure out what might have lead to this verdict. Granted, I do not know all the evidence that the jury heard but in all the news reports there is one thing that seems to be consistent. This mother did not try to save her babies. I could understand if perhaps there was evidence that she had tried to save those children, then maybe you could consider a lesser charge. But that does not seem to be the case. Reports say her clothes were not even wet when authorities arrived. HER CLOTHES WERE NOT EVEN WET. She did not even TRY to save those children. You can read about this on cnn.com and search for Amanda Hamm - if you can stomach it.
This was the topic on talk radio today as I drove to work. One caller made an interesting comment. I'll paraphrase:
"In our society, where a woman has a 'constitutional right' to kill her child before birth, why are we shocked that killing a child AFTER birth brings such a slight punishment? Why are we shocked that the lives of these children meant so little?"
Well, I am shocked. And I am sad. And I am tired. I am so tired of a mind set that says our children our disposable.
This was the topic on talk radio today as I drove to work. One caller made an interesting comment. I'll paraphrase:
"In our society, where a woman has a 'constitutional right' to kill her child before birth, why are we shocked that killing a child AFTER birth brings such a slight punishment? Why are we shocked that the lives of these children meant so little?"
Well, I am shocked. And I am sad. And I am tired. I am so tired of a mind set that says our children our disposable.
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