I am surrounded by laundry. On one side of the living room is the kids' stuff hanging up; on the other side is mine. Next to me is a pile of towels and unmentionables waiting to be folded, and hidden away in the dryer is more towels and socks. Hanging stuff up definitely saves on the electric bill, but it sure does make me miss my old clothes line.
My clothes line was a thing of beauty. Round flower beds surrounded the posts and three lines were hung between. About halfway down (the pole) was my kid-friendly line. It was one of those that you could pull out and hook on the other pole and was easily accessible by my ever-present kids. The best days were those beautiful, breezy days where I could carry a big basket out back, tie on my clothes-pin apron (yes, I really had one of those) and fill up all three lines. Usually my tag-along helper would have the duty of hanging dishtowels on the line they could reach. The afternoon would pass by and back out we would go, gathering in the clothes a whole faster than we put them out.
My favorite? Sheets dried in the sunshine.
And little pairs of boxer shorts swinging in the breeze.
I can't hang out clothes where we live now. The neighbor's burn barrel schedule across the street is too sporadic, plus I have no good place to put a line anyway. I still have my clothes-pin apron, only it's hanging in a lonely spot by the shovels and rakes. I just hate to get rid of it. You never know when the husband might cut down a few trees or the neighbors asphyxiate from the toxic plumes of smoke they produce on any given day.
And I'm just joking about the asphyxiation part. They really are nice people.
They just haven't caught on to the concept that plastic was not meant to burn.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Roll Call
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Call me an old-fashioned girl.
I definitely can't hang long with the contemporary group.
Guess I'll always be a traditionalist at heart.
On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
My grandma took me to church as a little girl.
I still sat by her as an adult (most of the time anyway).
Her voice singing is a permanent recording in my head.
Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Victory In Jesus.
In The Sweet By And By.
Leaning On The Everlasting Arms.
Sing me an old hymn and my eyes will start to water.
One of these days, I'll be sitting by her in church again.
When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there.
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Call me an old-fashioned girl.
I definitely can't hang long with the contemporary group.
Guess I'll always be a traditionalist at heart.
On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
My grandma took me to church as a little girl.
I still sat by her as an adult (most of the time anyway).
Her voice singing is a permanent recording in my head.
Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
Victory In Jesus.
In The Sweet By And By.
Leaning On The Everlasting Arms.
Sing me an old hymn and my eyes will start to water.
One of these days, I'll be sitting by her in church again.
When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
One Hot Mama
For future reference, the combination of coca-cola, greasy onion rings, and hot temperatures do not make a classy combination. I've spent the morning helping the husband out and all was well until about twenty minutes after we ate a late lunch. Thank goodness he sees his role as taking care of the little woman and gave me an easy out by telling me he could handle the rest on his own. It's about time for school to be out anyway so that means it's about time to start thinking about what to feed the kids tonight. I'm much more comfortable in my role as the head chef.
Speaking of which, we are out of milk and (heaven forbid!) coffee creamer. I'm going to have to subject the good people of the grocery store to my paint-splattered, bandana-wearing look. The milk I could do without; the coffee creamer... not a chance. I always believe in the finer priorities of life. Of course, coffee creamer to me is Nesquick to my husband. What coffee does for me, chocolate milk does for him. I guess since he let me go early today, I can make sure he's set later for his favorite bedtime drink. Besides, my girl's been on a kick about making supper. I think I'll suggest the breakfast version to her tonight.
And with that, time to go wow the people of my good town with my amazing look.
The kids are gonna love me forever (or possible deny our relationship).
The things that make me laugh. =)
Speaking of which, we are out of milk and (heaven forbid!) coffee creamer. I'm going to have to subject the good people of the grocery store to my paint-splattered, bandana-wearing look. The milk I could do without; the coffee creamer... not a chance. I always believe in the finer priorities of life. Of course, coffee creamer to me is Nesquick to my husband. What coffee does for me, chocolate milk does for him. I guess since he let me go early today, I can make sure he's set later for his favorite bedtime drink. Besides, my girl's been on a kick about making supper. I think I'll suggest the breakfast version to her tonight.
And with that, time to go wow the people of my good town with my amazing look.
The kids are gonna love me forever (or possible deny our relationship).
The things that make me laugh. =)
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Back To Tony: Volume 9
Nothing like logging on facebook to see you brother smiling back at you. Well, for him anyway, this is a smile. You can see it in his eyes. Check out these remarks and pictures.
August 19, 2011
Pretty neat, huh? And if you're interested in the whole wearing red to grandma's funeral thing, well... my grandma loved red. I thought I had written something about that, but can't seem to find it. I'll write about that someday... how she was laid to rest in a red dress she had made just for that occasion. It's quite the story how well prepared that little lady was for her going-away day.
But this one is all about my brother. And if you haven't read any of his stuff, just choose the gastric sleeve bypass link found somewhere on the left and go back to the beginning. You can't get more inspired than getting lost in all that.
August 19, 2011
Pretty neat, huh? And if you're interested in the whole wearing red to grandma's funeral thing, well... my grandma loved red. I thought I had written something about that, but can't seem to find it. I'll write about that someday... how she was laid to rest in a red dress she had made just for that occasion. It's quite the story how well prepared that little lady was for her going-away day.
But this one is all about my brother. And if you haven't read any of his stuff, just choose the gastric sleeve bypass link found somewhere on the left and go back to the beginning. You can't get more inspired than getting lost in all that.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Hanging On
I've got one cat at my feet and another one sitting on my leg. I'm starting to feel a little bit weird... it's like I sit down and they all start to gather. For the sake of my reputation, we will not be getting another cat.
I typically like Mondays, but I gotta say this one was no good. Yesterday went downhill after church and today was spent recovering emotionally. Yeah. It was that bad. Some days are just lousy.
Now we sit here watching some Japanese game show. Monday night entertainment at its finest. I would prefer something chocolate to add to the mix, but settled for marshmallow cereal instead.
The youngest cooked supper (very good).
The middle is playing guitar (not bad).
And the oldest is washing his truck (in the dark).
Meanwhile, the husband and I are just trying to hang on. Remember I said a month or so ago that September would be an interesting month? Well, things are shaping up for that to be the case.
You all pray for our job situation, would ya?
I really, really like our house. =)
I typically like Mondays, but I gotta say this one was no good. Yesterday went downhill after church and today was spent recovering emotionally. Yeah. It was that bad. Some days are just lousy.
Now we sit here watching some Japanese game show. Monday night entertainment at its finest. I would prefer something chocolate to add to the mix, but settled for marshmallow cereal instead.
The youngest cooked supper (very good).
The middle is playing guitar (not bad).
And the oldest is washing his truck (in the dark).
Meanwhile, the husband and I are just trying to hang on. Remember I said a month or so ago that September would be an interesting month? Well, things are shaping up for that to be the case.
You all pray for our job situation, would ya?
I really, really like our house. =)
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Junk Yard Bonding
What makes a seventeen-year old boy happy? Well, besides his girlfriend or computer games or having gas money to cruise around on... but what seriously makes the boy happy? The answer is simple.
Spending time with his dad.
And spending that time at a junk yard.
You would think it was Christmas around here. The husband took the oldest to the mecca of car-fixer-uppers enthusiasts. A place where you take your own tools, pay a buck to get through the gates, and stroll row after row of perfectly organized junk cars. Three hours later they showed up both grinning ear-to-ear.
A grown man had found headlights and door handles and other replacement parts.
A young man had found a front grill and a glove box and something else I can't remember.
Now they are both perfectly content working away on their individual projects. They periodically stop what they're doing to locate missing tools and grumble about how things are never where they should be. It all reminds me of the day I sat and watched them work on a bike. It's something I never grow tired of doing.
We may never have the money for satellite tv or other extras to entertain us.
But I've got a front porch swing and two fine looking men working in front of me.
You can't beat that for a Saturday night.
Spending time with his dad.
And spending that time at a junk yard.
You would think it was Christmas around here. The husband took the oldest to the mecca of car-fixer-uppers enthusiasts. A place where you take your own tools, pay a buck to get through the gates, and stroll row after row of perfectly organized junk cars. Three hours later they showed up both grinning ear-to-ear.
A grown man had found headlights and door handles and other replacement parts.
A young man had found a front grill and a glove box and something else I can't remember.
Now they are both perfectly content working away on their individual projects. They periodically stop what they're doing to locate missing tools and grumble about how things are never where they should be. It all reminds me of the day I sat and watched them work on a bike. It's something I never grow tired of doing.
We may never have the money for satellite tv or other extras to entertain us.
But I've got a front porch swing and two fine looking men working in front of me.
You can't beat that for a Saturday night.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Do Cat Ladies Have Fun?
Week One has come to an end and it's almost as if summer vacation never happened. We've had tired kids, hungry kids, and sometimes grumpy kids. I gotta hand it to them, though. If I were not here, they would carry on just fine. Up every day on their own and ready to go. I remember back when they were in first and second grades and I had them fixing their own school lunches. They had it down to a science: sandwich, chips, apple, and cookies (or something along those lines). I also remember teaching the oldest how to make my coffee when he was in the fourth grade. That boy could run a coffee pot! His coffee duties went by the wayside when I bought a machine with a fancy grinder and nowadays with my Keurig, well... even the cat could probably be trained to push the flashing blue button. Anyway, I never cease to be amazed by them all.
I remember times when they were younger and how tired I was all the time. Bath times, the brushing of the teeth, and the elusive art of keep one kid in particular in bed practically wore me out. When I think of how many times that child got up and down, up and down: I need a drink, Mom. I gotta go to the bathroom, Mom. I might be sick, Mom. Oh my, there were nights I thought I might lose my mind! And before that we suffered through those hard times known as colic (one kid) and chicken pox (two kids) and middle-of-the-night bad dreams (all three kids). Nothing unusual, I know, but I think every mom thinks she is the one that will literally crack before the first child ever heads off to kindergarten. Sleep becomes a sacred event.
We've had cystic fibrosis scares and talk of brain tumors and the reality of alopecia areata. We've been through countless dogs, numerous stray cats, and one episode of having chickens. We're on our third set of braces (two kids), have been through one back-type brace (one kid), and have made trips to the emergency room (all three kids). We've had bunk beds and mini vans and swing sets.
After this year it will be two kids in high school and one in college. One kid is preparing to move out while another anticipates having his own room for the very first time. Of course, we wiser people understand that those two who have been inseparable will have a hard time being separated. Already best friends and they don't quite realize it yet. Yes, indeed, it is quite the pleasure watching these kids grow.
And now here I sit with two sleeping cats on either side of me.
It's a good thing my kids are doing well.
I may be the one having issues in a few years.
I remember times when they were younger and how tired I was all the time. Bath times, the brushing of the teeth, and the elusive art of keep one kid in particular in bed practically wore me out. When I think of how many times that child got up and down, up and down: I need a drink, Mom. I gotta go to the bathroom, Mom. I might be sick, Mom. Oh my, there were nights I thought I might lose my mind! And before that we suffered through those hard times known as colic (one kid) and chicken pox (two kids) and middle-of-the-night bad dreams (all three kids). Nothing unusual, I know, but I think every mom thinks she is the one that will literally crack before the first child ever heads off to kindergarten. Sleep becomes a sacred event.
We've had cystic fibrosis scares and talk of brain tumors and the reality of alopecia areata. We've been through countless dogs, numerous stray cats, and one episode of having chickens. We're on our third set of braces (two kids), have been through one back-type brace (one kid), and have made trips to the emergency room (all three kids). We've had bunk beds and mini vans and swing sets.
After this year it will be two kids in high school and one in college. One kid is preparing to move out while another anticipates having his own room for the very first time. Of course, we wiser people understand that those two who have been inseparable will have a hard time being separated. Already best friends and they don't quite realize it yet. Yes, indeed, it is quite the pleasure watching these kids grow.
And now here I sit with two sleeping cats on either side of me.
It's a good thing my kids are doing well.
I may be the one having issues in a few years.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Don't Shoot The Messenger
Seventeen Magazine. This magazine is mostly for young girls and women from the ages of 12–19 (and I know Wikipedia is not an academic source, but for the purposes of this humble blog, just go with it). My girl recently bought her own copy and my motherly antenna immediate went on high alert. I know, I know... I read Seventeen as a young teenager, but the tables have turned.
A). I'm the mother now.
B). Things ain't what they use to be.
Consider the hot topic in the current issue: Mind-Blowing Makeouts.
And the eye-catching line on their website: Looking to have your best hookup ever?
I'm telling you people, the details (and the keyword here is details) given make a grown woman blush. So I spent a little quality time with my little beauty-in-the-making. I asked to look at her magazine and she immediately gave me the look. "I know what you're looking for, Mom," she said. "I already ripped those pages out."
And she had.
We talked about all that.
But we also talked about make-up and nail polish and shoes.
Girls need to be girls.
And not get how-to advice on hooking up from a magazine.
Just my thoughts on a late Wednesday night.
A). I'm the mother now.
B). Things ain't what they use to be.
Consider the hot topic in the current issue: Mind-Blowing Makeouts.
And the eye-catching line on their website: Looking to have your best hookup ever?
I'm telling you people, the details (and the keyword here is details) given make a grown woman blush. So I spent a little quality time with my little beauty-in-the-making. I asked to look at her magazine and she immediately gave me the look. "I know what you're looking for, Mom," she said. "I already ripped those pages out."
And she had.
We talked about all that.
But we also talked about make-up and nail polish and shoes.
Girls need to be girls.
And not get how-to advice on hooking up from a magazine.
Just my thoughts on a late Wednesday night.
Digging Through Pictures
I have spent the better part of the morning searching for a picture I know I have, but for the life of me cannot find. I've dug through two boxes of pictures and searched several photo albums. No luck. I know it's there somewhere. What mom does not take a picture of her firstborn on the first day of kindergarten? I know I did. I can practically see the boy's shirt, his backpack, and the exact location I made him stand to snap the pic. Good grief. These things are important, you know. I've got to have that picture to go along with his first day of his senior year picture. I think I have discovered my new obsession for the rest of the week. That and a new resolution to get some scrapbooking done. Anyway, through my archaeological dig in the cedar chest, I did uncover a few treasures. I'd say they're worth passing on.
This one features Laura Ingalls Wilder on the left and my daughter on the right. She (my girl) is standing in the same location Laura is at her home in Mansfield, Missouri. Behind her is a spring and through information I found detailing Laura's pic, I was able to position my girl in the same spot (I do things like that). The dress, apron, and bonnet (off the back of her neck) was made by my grandma. She had quite a few dresses like that, all still saved, waiting to someday be made into a quilt. One story my girl likes to tell is that before I would take her to Laura's house, she had to read all her books. I'm thinking this is around the third grade (she'll correct me if I'm wrong).
And if you're a Laura Ingalls fan, I highly recommend this biography that was recommended to me many years ago. Don't trust the show, people. Read the book.
Here's one of my boys when they were little baking... something. Today their specialties include muffins, grilled cheese, ramen noodles, and easy mac via the microwave.
Hey, how's this for random?
See kids... I'm an equal opportunity humiliator.
Me, in the fifth grade.
This one is my grandma doing one of the many things she loved best. Along with going to church, fishing, gardening, and sewing, she loved to work outside. We still joke about how it was smart not to let her walk outside with a lighter in her hand. Her solution to clearing away anything was to set it on fire. One of our favorite memories is my husband following her around with a garden hose as she used a rake and burning leaves to "help" him clean away some brush on our ten acres. She is pictured here with our oldest.
So I didn't find the picture I was looking for, but I did find a few good memories.
Now I've got to go clean up the mess I made and in the process, keep looking.
I will find that picture.
This one features Laura Ingalls Wilder on the left and my daughter on the right. She (my girl) is standing in the same location Laura is at her home in Mansfield, Missouri. Behind her is a spring and through information I found detailing Laura's pic, I was able to position my girl in the same spot (I do things like that). The dress, apron, and bonnet (off the back of her neck) was made by my grandma. She had quite a few dresses like that, all still saved, waiting to someday be made into a quilt. One story my girl likes to tell is that before I would take her to Laura's house, she had to read all her books. I'm thinking this is around the third grade (she'll correct me if I'm wrong).
And if you're a Laura Ingalls fan, I highly recommend this biography that was recommended to me many years ago. Don't trust the show, people. Read the book.
Here's one of my boys when they were little baking... something. Today their specialties include muffins, grilled cheese, ramen noodles, and easy mac via the microwave.
Hey, how's this for random?
See kids... I'm an equal opportunity humiliator.
Me, in the fifth grade.
This one is my grandma doing one of the many things she loved best. Along with going to church, fishing, gardening, and sewing, she loved to work outside. We still joke about how it was smart not to let her walk outside with a lighter in her hand. Her solution to clearing away anything was to set it on fire. One of our favorite memories is my husband following her around with a garden hose as she used a rake and burning leaves to "help" him clean away some brush on our ten acres. She is pictured here with our oldest.
So I didn't find the picture I was looking for, but I did find a few good memories.
Now I've got to go clean up the mess I made and in the process, keep looking.
I will find that picture.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Taking A Nap With The Cat
Ahhhh... the second day of school. The anticipation is no longer there. One kid is upset with me and another kid is just upset with the concept of morning, I think. At least I've got one who is happy. One out of three ain't bad.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I stopped writing this morning when I determined rather quickly I did not like the direction my thoughts were going. I was going to use that wonderful thing called the delete button, but then decided against it. After all, things are what they are.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I've spent the better part of the day sitting outside although I'm starting to think that it's getting time to head in to the a/c. The porch has been a nice shady spot that has served my schoolwork well, but things are starting to heat up. Combine that with the fact that even the cat is starting to look miserable in his furry coat... well, I would say he won't mind when I scoot him inside. Besides, he's laying around my feet and it no longer feels cozy. It just feels hot.
In a little over an hour I'll be heading out to pick up two of my three angels (?!) from school. The third one is enjoying his newfound driving privileges. He offered this morning to take the other two to school if I would pick them up. Just trying to help you out, Mom. Help away, Son. I waved goodbye from the front porch while still wearing my bathrobe. I knew this growing-up thing wouldn't be all that bad. I'm thinking, though, that when the realization of an empty gas tank kicks in, he'll be changing his tune. I'll enjoy it while I can.
That crazy cat. I felt him shifting around my feet and peeked over the edge of the chair. All I see is a white belly and feet sticking up and his eyes closed. I know just how he feels. When we head inside, I just might assume the same position on the living room floor. Yep. I am definitely back into my old routine: coffee, cleaning, coffee, school, coffee, lunch, nap. By the time I do get back to work my body (and mind) will probably rebel. This two-year vacation I've been on has turned me soft (okay, call it lazy if it makes you feel better).
My, oh my.
Could this be any more exciting?
Let's head inside, kitty-cat.
Mama needs a nap.
Monday, August 15, 2011
I Am A Housewife
So far this morning I have...
Watched three kids get ready for school with zero complaining.
Made a 45-minute commute one way through three separate school zones.
(That same route going home only took eight minutes... yes, I am a clock watcher).
Did a rush job on my hair and makeup to hang out with the husband.
Sat in a VA waiting room watching a bunch of older male vets watch Rachel Ray.
(And I am not lying when I say all heads perked up at the sound of bra advice).
Took up space at our local downtown Waffle House.
Listened to waitresses gripe about their customers and government vouchers.
(Who were complaining that $675 in government monthly housing aid wasn't enough).
Came home to a quiet house and two wound-up cats.
Sat on the front porch swing taking in the breeze.
(And promised myself I would start cleaning the house at noon).
Twelve o'clock on the dot (okay, technically three minutes past).
Time to fire up the vacuum and scare a few cats.
I absolutely love this day.
Watched three kids get ready for school with zero complaining.
Made a 45-minute commute one way through three separate school zones.
(That same route going home only took eight minutes... yes, I am a clock watcher).
Did a rush job on my hair and makeup to hang out with the husband.
Sat in a VA waiting room watching a bunch of older male vets watch Rachel Ray.
(And I am not lying when I say all heads perked up at the sound of bra advice).
Took up space at our local downtown Waffle House.
Listened to waitresses gripe about their customers and government vouchers.
(Who were complaining that $675 in government monthly housing aid wasn't enough).
Came home to a quiet house and two wound-up cats.
Sat on the front porch swing taking in the breeze.
(And promised myself I would start cleaning the house at noon).
Twelve o'clock on the dot (okay, technically three minutes past).
Time to fire up the vacuum and scare a few cats.
I absolutely love this day.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Take Two Sleeping Pills And Don't Wake Me Till Morning
What a day this has been. I've been up and down (emotionally) so many times I think I finally wore myself out. Somedays are just like that. I've been missing my mom, missing my grandma, missing getting ready for the first day of school. The whole weekend has been a struggle and it's not even over yet.
The night ended well, though. The husband decided that since we've had a good rain two days in a row, it would be an ideal time to burn a pile of brush that has been stacked in the fire pit all summer. Although I wasn't convinced at first that a bonfire in mid-August was a good idea, I changed my mind real quick. He is in the process of converting a shed into a type of cabin for our oldest boy and we celebrated the completed front porch tonight by sitting there watching the fire. Our girl delivered freshly baked snicker-doodles and milk sometime around hour number two, I think.
Yes, indeed... we do a lot of sitting around here.
But now it's almost eleven and I do believe I'm done for the night.
Love you, Mom.
Miss you, Grandma.
And to all you teachers getting ready for the first day of school Monday morning, I'll be thinking of you. Of course, I'll be doing that thinking while I'm still in my pajamas, sipping coffee, and enjoying the quiet of a house.
But I'll be thinking of you just the same. =)
The night ended well, though. The husband decided that since we've had a good rain two days in a row, it would be an ideal time to burn a pile of brush that has been stacked in the fire pit all summer. Although I wasn't convinced at first that a bonfire in mid-August was a good idea, I changed my mind real quick. He is in the process of converting a shed into a type of cabin for our oldest boy and we celebrated the completed front porch tonight by sitting there watching the fire. Our girl delivered freshly baked snicker-doodles and milk sometime around hour number two, I think.
Yes, indeed... we do a lot of sitting around here.
But now it's almost eleven and I do believe I'm done for the night.
Love you, Mom.
Miss you, Grandma.
And to all you teachers getting ready for the first day of school Monday morning, I'll be thinking of you. Of course, I'll be doing that thinking while I'm still in my pajamas, sipping coffee, and enjoying the quiet of a house.
But I'll be thinking of you just the same. =)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
No Wonder We're Depressed
While researching some info for a paper I'm working on regarding women and depression, I came across the following video:
Not much else to say, is there?
Not much else to say, is there?
The Countdown Is On...
To early bedtimes.
Alarm clocks ringing.
Form after form to sign.
Meetings to attend.
Homework.
Progress reports.
Grade cards.
Groundings.
Lectures on life.
I made a remark to a mom the other day that I was looking forward to the first day of school. A slight twinge of guilt drifted through the air when she said, "Not me. I wish I had them home longer."
Really? I mean, I love my kids. There's no doubting that. I enjoy their company and their humor and their insatiable appetite for anything edible. But I also like quiet. And non-bored faces.
All good things must come to an end. For this moment, that thing is summer vacation. I will be the one giving my husband a high-five when the last one is dropped off at school Monday morning. Don't hate me. Rejoice with me, if even for a short time.
We all know I'll be complaining about car lines by Thursday.
Alarm clocks ringing.
Form after form to sign.
Meetings to attend.
Homework.
Progress reports.
Grade cards.
Groundings.
Lectures on life.
I made a remark to a mom the other day that I was looking forward to the first day of school. A slight twinge of guilt drifted through the air when she said, "Not me. I wish I had them home longer."
Really? I mean, I love my kids. There's no doubting that. I enjoy their company and their humor and their insatiable appetite for anything edible. But I also like quiet. And non-bored faces.
All good things must come to an end. For this moment, that thing is summer vacation. I will be the one giving my husband a high-five when the last one is dropped off at school Monday morning. Don't hate me. Rejoice with me, if even for a short time.
We all know I'll be complaining about car lines by Thursday.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Words From My Grandma And Late Night Tacos
It's four in the morning and I'm wide awake. Well, the wide awake part would be an exaggeration... actually I am very tired. My eyes hurt. My head feels funny. My tummy just might be protesting that Taco Bell run we made sometime after ten o'clock last night. And yet, here I sit.
I was having the most amazing dream. My hair was long and full and brown (of all things) and full of the most beautiful curls. I was sitting in a bar (sorry Mom) with a man not my husband (sorry husband) talking about life. Then, at some point, the man got bored and my husband walked in, somewhat relieved that I had found somebody else to talk to if even for a few minutes. I am so not kidding here. This is the story of my life.
I woke up with a smile thinking about those beautiful curls. Dreams have a way of fading quickly, however, and as the cool air from the fan hit the back of my neck, I was reminded that my hair is not long, has more waves than curls, and is most definitely not brown. I could hear my husband snoring softly beside me and I was reminded of the reality in which we live.
We are both out of work with no real plan in sight. Just when it seems that there might be a sliver of hope, that hope is snatched faster than it can take root. Some might say it's a spiritual battle and others might just call it life. All I know is that with each passing day and each local news show, heaven is looking better and better. Shoot, drugs are looking better.
Did I say that out loud? Ha. Do you ever have thoughts like that? Who am I writing to anyway? I sometimes think a diary would be better, but then I have a fear of somebody reading it after I'm dead. How crazy is that? I sometimes think I should pull the plug on this one (blog) and start again, but I often feel like my life is nothing more than a bunch of re-starts. Not a bad thing, I know, but some things are just what they are. No sense hitting a delete button trying to pretend none of it happened.
Wow. This is turning out to be a tad bit depressing. I sure didn't mean it that way. The mind is a funny thing. One minute I can be full of hope and the next I can be certain things will never go my way. Maybe that's the ticket right there... my way. Good grief, will I ever learn? It's times like these I wish I could call my grandma. Somehow it always made me feel better to hear that she had the same struggles I did. I'll never forget the time she told me about her early days of marriage and her mother-in-law. I can still see her talking about it all. She was just as fired up about some sixty (or more) years later as she must have been when she was actually in the middle of it all.
It does help to hear people share their honest stories, doesn't it? Not those Sunday-suit-sitting-in-the-choir stories, but those down-to-earth-life-can-be-crap stories. I learn more from hearing how someone overcame adversary than from someone telling me what I should be doing, if that makes any sense. My grandma was like that. Sure she would tell me what I should be doing (for instance, I don't know how many times I had Hebrews 10:23-25 quoted to me by that little old lady) but she would also share her own experiences with me to try to teach me something. That meant a lot.
Anyway, I guess there's not much else to say. Today is a new day. Anything can happen. If I were to hang up hope altogether, I would truly have nothing to live for. I don't know... maybe I should get that diary.
And by the way, Hebrews 10:23-25 says this: Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.
That was her favorite verse to throw my way when I told her I was tired of going to church. I still repeat that same thing to myself often and have used it on the kids on more than one occasion. Thanks, Grandma. =)
I was having the most amazing dream. My hair was long and full and brown (of all things) and full of the most beautiful curls. I was sitting in a bar (sorry Mom) with a man not my husband (sorry husband) talking about life. Then, at some point, the man got bored and my husband walked in, somewhat relieved that I had found somebody else to talk to if even for a few minutes. I am so not kidding here. This is the story of my life.
I woke up with a smile thinking about those beautiful curls. Dreams have a way of fading quickly, however, and as the cool air from the fan hit the back of my neck, I was reminded that my hair is not long, has more waves than curls, and is most definitely not brown. I could hear my husband snoring softly beside me and I was reminded of the reality in which we live.
We are both out of work with no real plan in sight. Just when it seems that there might be a sliver of hope, that hope is snatched faster than it can take root. Some might say it's a spiritual battle and others might just call it life. All I know is that with each passing day and each local news show, heaven is looking better and better. Shoot, drugs are looking better.
Did I say that out loud? Ha. Do you ever have thoughts like that? Who am I writing to anyway? I sometimes think a diary would be better, but then I have a fear of somebody reading it after I'm dead. How crazy is that? I sometimes think I should pull the plug on this one (blog) and start again, but I often feel like my life is nothing more than a bunch of re-starts. Not a bad thing, I know, but some things are just what they are. No sense hitting a delete button trying to pretend none of it happened.
Wow. This is turning out to be a tad bit depressing. I sure didn't mean it that way. The mind is a funny thing. One minute I can be full of hope and the next I can be certain things will never go my way. Maybe that's the ticket right there... my way. Good grief, will I ever learn? It's times like these I wish I could call my grandma. Somehow it always made me feel better to hear that she had the same struggles I did. I'll never forget the time she told me about her early days of marriage and her mother-in-law. I can still see her talking about it all. She was just as fired up about some sixty (or more) years later as she must have been when she was actually in the middle of it all.
It does help to hear people share their honest stories, doesn't it? Not those Sunday-suit-sitting-in-the-choir stories, but those down-to-earth-life-can-be-crap stories. I learn more from hearing how someone overcame adversary than from someone telling me what I should be doing, if that makes any sense. My grandma was like that. Sure she would tell me what I should be doing (for instance, I don't know how many times I had Hebrews 10:23-25 quoted to me by that little old lady) but she would also share her own experiences with me to try to teach me something. That meant a lot.
Anyway, I guess there's not much else to say. Today is a new day. Anything can happen. If I were to hang up hope altogether, I would truly have nothing to live for. I don't know... maybe I should get that diary.
And by the way, Hebrews 10:23-25 says this: Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.
That was her favorite verse to throw my way when I told her I was tired of going to church. I still repeat that same thing to myself often and have used it on the kids on more than one occasion. Thanks, Grandma. =)
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Dear Katelyn,
Thirteen years ago we had a new baby girl that was destined to wear pink for at least one full year. I know that's not one of your favorite colors anymore... I'm guessing I probably ruined it for you (that and frilly dresses and hair bows and lacey socks). I would apologize, but it's hard to be sorry for something that was so much fun.
Actually, you and I have had a lot of fun times. I use to rock you and sing things like Bye-O Baby and You Are So Beautiful. You would play in the kitchen while I cooked and dig out every measuring cup and wooden spoon and bowl you could find. Maybe that's why you still enjoy the kitchen today. You've spent a lot of time in there.
Grandma Faye had you using a quilting needle when you were two and sewing on a machine by the time you were three. I'll never forget the time I picked you up from her house and your little finger was all needle-pricked... somehow you hadn't quite mastered the thimble yet, I think. Even today, if someone in the family needs something mended, they go to you.
Grandma taught you about canning and making grape jelly. I don't think there was much she wouldn't let you try. In fact, I'm pretty sure she was your first best friend. If we have done anything right in our life, it was raising you kids in a place where her house was just a walk away. I am so thankful she was a part of your first nine and a half years (and don't even get me started on Granny). You are one lucky girl.
So now you're thirteen and things like Barbies and American Girls and Big Baby are nothing more than a part of your memories of childhood. All you talk about now is i-pods and cell phones and laptops (and sorry... the answer is still no on all three of them). Don't fret, my dear, you've got a whole life ahead of you to gain access to all those techno marvels. There are just too many things in this world to compete for your attention. For now...
Enjoy your books.
Learn to relax.
Love your kitten.
Oh, and feel free to bake. Often.
Your dad and I are very happy with the young woman you are becoming. Your grandma would be thrilled. Yes, you're gonna have struggles, but that's just part of it. You've already overcome a lot in your young life; you'll think back on those times when things get hard. And remember everything your old mom has taught you:
God is all powerful.
Jesus will forgive.
You have a purpose.
And Starbucks makes the world go round.
With much love to you,
Your MOM
(not your friend, buddy, or pal, but ALWAYS your biggest fan)
P.S. Dad just read this and reminded me of the time you asked if you could call Grandma "Mom." I can still see her giggling when she told me that (even if I did NOT think it was funny at the time). Ha!
Actually, you and I have had a lot of fun times. I use to rock you and sing things like Bye-O Baby and You Are So Beautiful. You would play in the kitchen while I cooked and dig out every measuring cup and wooden spoon and bowl you could find. Maybe that's why you still enjoy the kitchen today. You've spent a lot of time in there.
Grandma Faye had you using a quilting needle when you were two and sewing on a machine by the time you were three. I'll never forget the time I picked you up from her house and your little finger was all needle-pricked... somehow you hadn't quite mastered the thimble yet, I think. Even today, if someone in the family needs something mended, they go to you.
Grandma taught you about canning and making grape jelly. I don't think there was much she wouldn't let you try. In fact, I'm pretty sure she was your first best friend. If we have done anything right in our life, it was raising you kids in a place where her house was just a walk away. I am so thankful she was a part of your first nine and a half years (and don't even get me started on Granny). You are one lucky girl.
So now you're thirteen and things like Barbies and American Girls and Big Baby are nothing more than a part of your memories of childhood. All you talk about now is i-pods and cell phones and laptops (and sorry... the answer is still no on all three of them). Don't fret, my dear, you've got a whole life ahead of you to gain access to all those techno marvels. There are just too many things in this world to compete for your attention. For now...
Enjoy your books.
Learn to relax.
Love your kitten.
Oh, and feel free to bake. Often.
Your dad and I are very happy with the young woman you are becoming. Your grandma would be thrilled. Yes, you're gonna have struggles, but that's just part of it. You've already overcome a lot in your young life; you'll think back on those times when things get hard. And remember everything your old mom has taught you:
God is all powerful.
Jesus will forgive.
You have a purpose.
And Starbucks makes the world go round.
With much love to you,
Your MOM
(not your friend, buddy, or pal, but ALWAYS your biggest fan)
P.S. Dad just read this and reminded me of the time you asked if you could call Grandma "Mom." I can still see her giggling when she told me that (even if I did NOT think it was funny at the time). Ha!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Give Me Enough Chocolate And Nobody Has To Get Hurt
There are few things in life that chocolate cake cannot fix.
Unfortunately, I may be knee-deep in the middle of one of those times.
But I still ate the cake, just to be sure.
What do you do when you know something you shouldn't know? And this is non-kid related, by the way. When those nagging suspicions that you've had pan out to be true and you're worried about somebody, do you stick your nose in or keep your nose out? The funny thing is that I was just talking about unsolicited advice a few entries ago. Maybe I should follow my own ramblings and just stay the heck out of it.
But, boy, is it hard. I really want to say something. Part of me wants to sneak up and say GOTCHA! Oh, and this involves all articles of clothing being on, just so you know. I'm not in to sneaking up on anybody in that fashion. I just hate dishonesty. I hate it when trust is broken. And I really hate being lied to or, in the case when no direct words are involved (hence no lying, you see), I despise being misled into thinking something is what it is not.
Are you all still with me? This is why I'm eating cake. It's a birthday cake, to be clear, but any excuse for cake is a good excuse for me. A friend of my kids having a birthday? Awesome! Bring 'em over and let's eat cake. As you all know, though, the tummy can be full and the heart not settled. That's where I am right now. All that's left is a smattering of chocolate crumbs and a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. I couldn't possibly eat another bite, but I can nuke the coffee. Anything to keep me busy.
Like crocheting. I am officially hooked (get the pun?). Wow. Maybe I've had a little too much coffee. I love this new hobby, though, and fair warning to all my family members... Scarfs For Everybody This Christmas! If you have a color preference, you better get it in now. I'm on a roll. I actually have to discipline myself with my homework: no crocheting till I answer a question or read a chapter. Nah... who am I kidding anyway? I sat down now to work on some questions and the whole blog world can see that I'm not getting that done. So much for discipline.
You know, I've never been good with keeping my mouth shut. I think I might try it now just for kicks and see what happens. After all, is any battle really mine? I think not. I'm not promising anything, though. If I have to keep turning to cake to keep me from saying anything, the end result won't be pretty for anybody. Crocheting I can do. Reading I can do. Overload on the chocolate? Yeah. Let's not venture down that road.
Unless I can find diet chocolate.
Then all bets are off.
Unfortunately, I may be knee-deep in the middle of one of those times.
But I still ate the cake, just to be sure.
What do you do when you know something you shouldn't know? And this is non-kid related, by the way. When those nagging suspicions that you've had pan out to be true and you're worried about somebody, do you stick your nose in or keep your nose out? The funny thing is that I was just talking about unsolicited advice a few entries ago. Maybe I should follow my own ramblings and just stay the heck out of it.
But, boy, is it hard. I really want to say something. Part of me wants to sneak up and say GOTCHA! Oh, and this involves all articles of clothing being on, just so you know. I'm not in to sneaking up on anybody in that fashion. I just hate dishonesty. I hate it when trust is broken. And I really hate being lied to or, in the case when no direct words are involved (hence no lying, you see), I despise being misled into thinking something is what it is not.
Are you all still with me? This is why I'm eating cake. It's a birthday cake, to be clear, but any excuse for cake is a good excuse for me. A friend of my kids having a birthday? Awesome! Bring 'em over and let's eat cake. As you all know, though, the tummy can be full and the heart not settled. That's where I am right now. All that's left is a smattering of chocolate crumbs and a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. I couldn't possibly eat another bite, but I can nuke the coffee. Anything to keep me busy.
Like crocheting. I am officially hooked (get the pun?). Wow. Maybe I've had a little too much coffee. I love this new hobby, though, and fair warning to all my family members... Scarfs For Everybody This Christmas! If you have a color preference, you better get it in now. I'm on a roll. I actually have to discipline myself with my homework: no crocheting till I answer a question or read a chapter. Nah... who am I kidding anyway? I sat down now to work on some questions and the whole blog world can see that I'm not getting that done. So much for discipline.
You know, I've never been good with keeping my mouth shut. I think I might try it now just for kicks and see what happens. After all, is any battle really mine? I think not. I'm not promising anything, though. If I have to keep turning to cake to keep me from saying anything, the end result won't be pretty for anybody. Crocheting I can do. Reading I can do. Overload on the chocolate? Yeah. Let's not venture down that road.
Unless I can find diet chocolate.
Then all bets are off.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Don't Get In The Way Of My Latte
Well, we might as well assign a label to this one and keep a common theme rolling along. I'll try not to get to sappy and if you're anything like me and get tired (at times) at the constant updates in any one person's life... you might grow weary and think who cares?!? Also, when you consider the fact that I have two more kids behind him, this could get old pretty fast. At any rate, this blog is more or less for nostalgic purposes aimed at the family. If nothing else, my mother will absolutely love it.
We stood in four separate lines today to register the oldest for his senior year of high school. He walked in still riding high on the freedom of summer vacation. An hour later, he walked out carrying a stack of books, a locker combination, and a parking pass. I had my own packet of mandatory parent meetings, graduation stuff, and paid receipts. In two of the lines we watched as kids cut in front of us with the old tried and true method of I will stand here and laugh and talk to my friends like I don't know what's going on so I don't have to wait in the back of the line.
Yeah.
Take a number, kid.
As we made our way back to the car for our traditional let's get a Starbucks to mark the occasion, the oldest remarked to me that he was surprised I didn't say anything to the line-cutters. He knows me so well. All I could think was that I didn't want to rush any of it. I told him if I have learned anything in life, it's that we always don't have to be in so much of a hurry. If waiting in four separate lines while kids cut in front of us meant that I had one solid hour of standing and talking with my oldest, so be it. I don't mind the wait.
Of course, less than ten minutes later I was laying into my horn over some fool that tried to cut me off in the center turn lane. There's a mass difference between standing in line at the local high school and maneuvering through traffic during mid-afternoon. That made the oldest laugh. He was probably thinking, now that's the mom I know. He knows nothing stands in the way between me and a hazelnut latte, even if the moment is suppose to be all about him.
It's such a strange thing watching these kids grow.
I hope I never grow tired of it.
We stood in four separate lines today to register the oldest for his senior year of high school. He walked in still riding high on the freedom of summer vacation. An hour later, he walked out carrying a stack of books, a locker combination, and a parking pass. I had my own packet of mandatory parent meetings, graduation stuff, and paid receipts. In two of the lines we watched as kids cut in front of us with the old tried and true method of I will stand here and laugh and talk to my friends like I don't know what's going on so I don't have to wait in the back of the line.
Yeah.
Take a number, kid.
As we made our way back to the car for our traditional let's get a Starbucks to mark the occasion, the oldest remarked to me that he was surprised I didn't say anything to the line-cutters. He knows me so well. All I could think was that I didn't want to rush any of it. I told him if I have learned anything in life, it's that we always don't have to be in so much of a hurry. If waiting in four separate lines while kids cut in front of us meant that I had one solid hour of standing and talking with my oldest, so be it. I don't mind the wait.
Of course, less than ten minutes later I was laying into my horn over some fool that tried to cut me off in the center turn lane. There's a mass difference between standing in line at the local high school and maneuvering through traffic during mid-afternoon. That made the oldest laugh. He was probably thinking, now that's the mom I know. He knows nothing stands in the way between me and a hazelnut latte, even if the moment is suppose to be all about him.
It's such a strange thing watching these kids grow.
I hope I never grow tired of it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)