Dane's first chore of the day is to take the dog for his morning walk, then feed him. He's usually pretty good about it, but lately he's been forgetting to feed the dog after his walk.
Donovan will lie around looking forlorn, refusing to leave the kitchen until he gets his daily meal. You can always tell whether or not Dane has fed him based on his disposition.
This morning, I went into the kitchen and noticed Donovan with his head perched hopefully on his paws, lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was pretty obvious he hadn't yet been fed.
Me: "Dane, did you walk your dog and feed him yet?"
Dane: "Mommy, I DID walk him. I just got back. But I forgot to feed him."
I took care of the task that had drawn me into the kitchen, then went back to my bedroom to work on my chores. A few minutes later, Donovan appeared in the bedroom. He looked sadly up at me, shoulders slumped, then laid down right in my path.
I marched into the kitchen, Donovan following behind me, a little more spring in his step. He recognized the direction I was headed and the purpose with which I walked. I checked his bowls. Water bowl was almost empty and hadn't been cleaned, part of the feeding process. Food bowl was empty. No boys. As I rounded the corner from the dining room into the hallway, I saw both boys sitting in the living room talking.
Me: "Dane, you didn't feed Donovan yet, did you?"
Dane, very slowly: "We-l-l-l-l-l . . ."
Me: "You're busted, son. The dog came and told on you."
Dane: "MAN! Now the dog's telling on me, too."
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Confused
Don drove Dane's baseball team to Atlanta Friday to attend an Atlanta Braves' game. They left at 2 p.m. so they could get there in time to watch batting practice. After the game, they stayed for the fireworks. Dane told me that they saw the team walking to their cars as Don pulled the 15-passenger van out of the parking lot.
I rolled over at 4:17 a.m. Saturday morning and Don hadn't yet made it to bed. He told me later in the day that they got home around that time. Needless to say, he was exhausted the next day and not thinking very clearly.
At dinner, we were talking about Father's Day the next day. Since our fridge had gone out, it was obvious we needed to spend the afternoon shopping. But I wanted to do something with my father.
Don: "I think you should take Grandpa and your father out to dinner tomorrow."
Me: "Don, Grandpa IS my father. They're the same person, honey."
Don: "What?"
Later in the meal . . .
Don: " . . . and then we left work."
Me: "We? Who was with you?"
Don, looking at me with a funny expression: "What do you mean?"
Me: "You said, 'we'."
Don: "When? I don't understand."
By this point, the children began to add comments.
Deanna: "You, yourself, and him?"
Dane: "Daddy, you DID way 'we'."
We finally convinced Don that Grandpa and my father were, indeed, the same person and if I took Grandpa to dinner, my father would automatically be there. Then we began working on the whole split personality issue.
Don: "It must be bedtime."
By the time we were finished talking with him, we ALL needed a good night's sleep.
I rolled over at 4:17 a.m. Saturday morning and Don hadn't yet made it to bed. He told me later in the day that they got home around that time. Needless to say, he was exhausted the next day and not thinking very clearly.
At dinner, we were talking about Father's Day the next day. Since our fridge had gone out, it was obvious we needed to spend the afternoon shopping. But I wanted to do something with my father.
Don: "I think you should take Grandpa and your father out to dinner tomorrow."
Me: "Don, Grandpa IS my father. They're the same person, honey."
Don: "What?"
Later in the meal . . .
Don: " . . . and then we left work."
Me: "We? Who was with you?"
Don, looking at me with a funny expression: "What do you mean?"
Me: "You said, 'we'."
Don: "When? I don't understand."
By this point, the children began to add comments.
Deanna: "You, yourself, and him?"
Dane: "Daddy, you DID way 'we'."
We finally convinced Don that Grandpa and my father were, indeed, the same person and if I took Grandpa to dinner, my father would automatically be there. Then we began working on the whole split personality issue.
Don: "It must be bedtime."
By the time we were finished talking with him, we ALL needed a good night's sleep.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Lots of space
Who would've ever thought getting a new fridge would be such a hassle?
Our refrigerator went out Saturday night. We bought a new one Sunday afternoon. It was delivered Monday afternoon, and I have killed myself for the last 48 hours preparing.
Before the new fridge arrived, I spent hours and hours removing our food, throwing tons of old stuff out, and packing coolers with all the things we needed to keep cold. Once everything was out of the fridge, I worked very hard at cleaning out the old appliance; after all, who wants the folks at the Junk Yard to get dirty junk. (We ended up giving it to a young couple who are soon to marry, so I was very thankful I took the time to scrub down the sides, the bins, and clean out the egg-holders.)
Once the new fridge arrived, it had to be cleaned and disinfected, which took HOURS! Finally, I was ready to begin putting food back, which turned out to be a practically unsurmountable task. Where to put everything!!
What goes in the door and what goes on which shelves? Should I use the enclosed tray at the top of the door for butter or eggs? I've already moved the shelves around at least a dozen times.
But the food is now IN there, at least the fresh food. I still have to send the boys up to Grandma's to get our frozen foods out of their freezer.
A light at the end of the tunnel to match the cute little nightlight on the ice and water dispenser in the door.
Our refrigerator went out Saturday night. We bought a new one Sunday afternoon. It was delivered Monday afternoon, and I have killed myself for the last 48 hours preparing.
Before the new fridge arrived, I spent hours and hours removing our food, throwing tons of old stuff out, and packing coolers with all the things we needed to keep cold. Once everything was out of the fridge, I worked very hard at cleaning out the old appliance; after all, who wants the folks at the Junk Yard to get dirty junk. (We ended up giving it to a young couple who are soon to marry, so I was very thankful I took the time to scrub down the sides, the bins, and clean out the egg-holders.)
Once the new fridge arrived, it had to be cleaned and disinfected, which took HOURS! Finally, I was ready to begin putting food back, which turned out to be a practically unsurmountable task. Where to put everything!!
What goes in the door and what goes on which shelves? Should I use the enclosed tray at the top of the door for butter or eggs? I've already moved the shelves around at least a dozen times.
But the food is now IN there, at least the fresh food. I still have to send the boys up to Grandma's to get our frozen foods out of their freezer.
A light at the end of the tunnel to match the cute little nightlight on the ice and water dispenser in the door.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Appliance Nightmare
As I was putting the groceries away today (to the tune of over $200), I noticed some hot dogs in the small freezer above the refrigerator that were a little squooshy. Thinking they were in a bad place in the freezer, I moved them.
Dinner ran very late tonight and we didn't actually sit down together until around 7 p.m. Dane was putting drinks on the table and I told him I'd make my own tea. I went to put ice in my glass of tea and discovered that almost all the cubes had melted!!! I screeched for Don. The freezer was broken.
We talked about it through dinner, then I jumped up from the table and started cleaning out the freezer. Don brought it to my attention that, if the freezer wasn't working, neither was the fridge.
"I wish we had noticed this before you went to the grocery store," he commented.
You ain't the only one! After spending a couple of hours cleaning out the little freezer and refrigerator, sorting everything into piles of what needed freezing (in my parent's big freezer), what needed refrigerating (in coolers with ice), what could stay out without harm, and what needed to just be thrown out, Don and I had another pow-wow.
"Is the refrigerator well-enough insulated to act like a cooler?" I asked him. "If we put bags of ice in it, could we keep the refrigerated food cold in there without having to move everything into coolers? I'm running out of ice packs."
My big cooler is full and I was working on filling up our smaller coolers. And, Don and Dane had just been to a Braves' game in Atlanta and I had sent along our big cooler with our ice packs for drinks and the ice packs hadn't gotten back into the freezer yet.
"Yes," Don responded. "Remember the old days of ice boxes? Ice should keep the refrigerator cold for some period of time. How many bags of ice do you think we'll need?"
We settled on two, he's off to the store to buy ice, and I'm going to try and put some things back into the refrigerator. The milk will be much easier for the children to get to in the fridge than having to dig in the cooler for it in the morning. If I leave most of the top shelf for the bags of ice, we should have plenty of space.
We'll have to buy a new refrigerator tomorrow and, hopefully, get it delivered on Monday, but, in the meantime, we can act like pioneers. After all, my parents lived with ice boxes. I can, too, for a few days. Just as long as I get a larger fridge out of the deal!!
Dinner ran very late tonight and we didn't actually sit down together until around 7 p.m. Dane was putting drinks on the table and I told him I'd make my own tea. I went to put ice in my glass of tea and discovered that almost all the cubes had melted!!! I screeched for Don. The freezer was broken.
We talked about it through dinner, then I jumped up from the table and started cleaning out the freezer. Don brought it to my attention that, if the freezer wasn't working, neither was the fridge.
"I wish we had noticed this before you went to the grocery store," he commented.
You ain't the only one! After spending a couple of hours cleaning out the little freezer and refrigerator, sorting everything into piles of what needed freezing (in my parent's big freezer), what needed refrigerating (in coolers with ice), what could stay out without harm, and what needed to just be thrown out, Don and I had another pow-wow.
"Is the refrigerator well-enough insulated to act like a cooler?" I asked him. "If we put bags of ice in it, could we keep the refrigerated food cold in there without having to move everything into coolers? I'm running out of ice packs."
My big cooler is full and I was working on filling up our smaller coolers. And, Don and Dane had just been to a Braves' game in Atlanta and I had sent along our big cooler with our ice packs for drinks and the ice packs hadn't gotten back into the freezer yet.
"Yes," Don responded. "Remember the old days of ice boxes? Ice should keep the refrigerator cold for some period of time. How many bags of ice do you think we'll need?"
We settled on two, he's off to the store to buy ice, and I'm going to try and put some things back into the refrigerator. The milk will be much easier for the children to get to in the fridge than having to dig in the cooler for it in the morning. If I leave most of the top shelf for the bags of ice, we should have plenty of space.
We'll have to buy a new refrigerator tomorrow and, hopefully, get it delivered on Monday, but, in the meantime, we can act like pioneers. After all, my parents lived with ice boxes. I can, too, for a few days. Just as long as I get a larger fridge out of the deal!!
Friday, June 18, 2010
And Baseball FINALLY comes to an end
Dane's last baseball game was last night. They're 2nd in the League, which is huge for him, since he's been on losing teams for the last 3 years, since he started playing baseball.
When I say losing, I mean LOSING. They won NO games the first year (machine pitch). Then he moved up to a new division with Team Pitch and it was painful. The first year, they won no games and one inning could last 1 1/2 hours easily. The second year, playing with the same coach and many of the same players, I think they may have won a few games, but they were never even in the running for placing in the League.
This year, though, they seem to have found their stride. He's again in a new division, which required try-outs, but he ended up on a team with two of his teammates from the last two years, coached by the older brother of one of his previous teammates.
The boys were allowed to steal bases this year. It's funny to me how each year the focus on playing changes a little. The first year, in machine pitch, they were just learning how to hit moving balls. The focus was batting and infield play. The next year, as they progressed to team pitching, we experienced the importance of having good pitchers who can throw strikes. By the second year in Team Pitch, the boys were developing their arms and some decent pitchers were rising to the top like cream in milk. Then the issue became outfielding. For the first time, players were actually hitting balls into the outfield. And basemen became very important, which required ability to catch the ball in your mitt. As the boys began learning how to play bases and get the ball from the outfield to the proper base to prevent a player continuing to run (they don't have a "one base on an overthrow" rule, so a player on first can make it all the way home if the opposing team isn't catching well), batting became a given, as did pitching.
So, I figured we would have it all this year - we had learned to bat, pitch, outfield, infield, catch the ball, play the bases . . . what's left? And, boy, did we find out. CATCHING!!, as in, "the catcher".
Suddenly, that boy crouched behind home plate became very important. You can't keep them from making runs if you can't tag them out at home. AND, this year, for the first time, they can get a boy out by catching a foul ball.
We've had an unbelievably difficult time with Catchers. There's, apparently, a huge learning curve with catching that includes growing into the uniform. Most of the boys can't see out of the mask and can't find the ball when it's right in front of them. I've seen boys sling that helmet halfway across the field in frustration as they attempt to find a ball behind home plate while the runner gleefully makes his way from base to base, players, coaches, and parents standing and screaming directions to the Catcher. And the Catcher has to be quick on his feet. He has to go from that crouched position to throwing position in seconds, and his aim HAS to be accurate or having the ball in his hand won't count for anything.
I can't even count how many runs we gave up because of Catchers. The coaches finally called a practice and tried out everybody as Catcher. They found a couple of boys that seemed to be able to do the basics, and we've made it through the year.
Next year should be interesting. Dane will be in the same League, which means he doesn't have to try-out again, if he stays with the same coach. He should have a good many of the same players back again. And now that they've advanced in skill a little more, it should be a very good season for them.
For now, however, we're almost into Fall sports, so I'm going to enjoy the short break. Dane's pleased with his team's outcome, and Don and I are thrilled. As a reward, and in place of a banquet, they're going to a Braves' game today to watch the big boys play. Should be inspiring.
When I say losing, I mean LOSING. They won NO games the first year (machine pitch). Then he moved up to a new division with Team Pitch and it was painful. The first year, they won no games and one inning could last 1 1/2 hours easily. The second year, playing with the same coach and many of the same players, I think they may have won a few games, but they were never even in the running for placing in the League.
This year, though, they seem to have found their stride. He's again in a new division, which required try-outs, but he ended up on a team with two of his teammates from the last two years, coached by the older brother of one of his previous teammates.
The boys were allowed to steal bases this year. It's funny to me how each year the focus on playing changes a little. The first year, in machine pitch, they were just learning how to hit moving balls. The focus was batting and infield play. The next year, as they progressed to team pitching, we experienced the importance of having good pitchers who can throw strikes. By the second year in Team Pitch, the boys were developing their arms and some decent pitchers were rising to the top like cream in milk. Then the issue became outfielding. For the first time, players were actually hitting balls into the outfield. And basemen became very important, which required ability to catch the ball in your mitt. As the boys began learning how to play bases and get the ball from the outfield to the proper base to prevent a player continuing to run (they don't have a "one base on an overthrow" rule, so a player on first can make it all the way home if the opposing team isn't catching well), batting became a given, as did pitching.
So, I figured we would have it all this year - we had learned to bat, pitch, outfield, infield, catch the ball, play the bases . . . what's left? And, boy, did we find out. CATCHING!!, as in, "the catcher".
Suddenly, that boy crouched behind home plate became very important. You can't keep them from making runs if you can't tag them out at home. AND, this year, for the first time, they can get a boy out by catching a foul ball.
We've had an unbelievably difficult time with Catchers. There's, apparently, a huge learning curve with catching that includes growing into the uniform. Most of the boys can't see out of the mask and can't find the ball when it's right in front of them. I've seen boys sling that helmet halfway across the field in frustration as they attempt to find a ball behind home plate while the runner gleefully makes his way from base to base, players, coaches, and parents standing and screaming directions to the Catcher. And the Catcher has to be quick on his feet. He has to go from that crouched position to throwing position in seconds, and his aim HAS to be accurate or having the ball in his hand won't count for anything.
I can't even count how many runs we gave up because of Catchers. The coaches finally called a practice and tried out everybody as Catcher. They found a couple of boys that seemed to be able to do the basics, and we've made it through the year.
Next year should be interesting. Dane will be in the same League, which means he doesn't have to try-out again, if he stays with the same coach. He should have a good many of the same players back again. And now that they've advanced in skill a little more, it should be a very good season for them.
For now, however, we're almost into Fall sports, so I'm going to enjoy the short break. Dane's pleased with his team's outcome, and Don and I are thrilled. As a reward, and in place of a banquet, they're going to a Braves' game today to watch the big boys play. Should be inspiring.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Our Goat Situation
I don't think I've ever posted about the goat situation. I've been considering buying 2 nanny goats. A friend of mine, who owns a farm, used to have goats and wants to rebuild her herd, so she's made me a deal that's difficult to refuse. She'll keep my two females, feed and water them, tend to their Veterinary care, and milk them. I'll pay for the feed and necessary medicines. She'll bring the milk to me daily and, in return, I'll give her their offspring after breeding them annually (which you have to do with goats to keep milking them). I've been looking for two appropriate nannies to purchase after doing a lot of research on milk goats.
My friend mentioned someone who she knew casually that was selling her goats. I contacted her and we went to meet her goats and sample the milk. She very generously gave us a huge pickle jar full of milk and several other products that came from the milk, such as feta cheese. I ended up with quite a few of her nice jars.
The biggest issue, of course, before buying goats is to be certain my children will drink goats milk, so purchasing two nannies was still a little ways in the future. Ultimately, we made a decision that these goats were not the right ones for us for several different reasons. I've needed to return the woman's jars, but life tends to snowball on us and I've never done it.
I got an e-mail from her earlier this week asking if we might be able to return them. I figured we could do that today, so I began looking for her phone number in my kitchen drawer.
Me: "Where IS that number? I need to call the woman with the goats and see if we can go out today to return her jars. Doggone!! Where's that number?"
Daelyn: "Just call 1-800- GOATS-4-SALE!"
My friend mentioned someone who she knew casually that was selling her goats. I contacted her and we went to meet her goats and sample the milk. She very generously gave us a huge pickle jar full of milk and several other products that came from the milk, such as feta cheese. I ended up with quite a few of her nice jars.
The biggest issue, of course, before buying goats is to be certain my children will drink goats milk, so purchasing two nannies was still a little ways in the future. Ultimately, we made a decision that these goats were not the right ones for us for several different reasons. I've needed to return the woman's jars, but life tends to snowball on us and I've never done it.
I got an e-mail from her earlier this week asking if we might be able to return them. I figured we could do that today, so I began looking for her phone number in my kitchen drawer.
Me: "Where IS that number? I need to call the woman with the goats and see if we can go out today to return her jars. Doggone!! Where's that number?"
Daelyn: "Just call 1-800- GOATS-4-SALE!"
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Lawn Care
In the wake of Grandma Doughty's death, I hired a neighborhood teenager to mow the lawns and do some weed-eating. The lawn was already seriously overgrown and we were taking off for West Virginia and didn't expect to be home for a week or so.
When we returned home, the yard looked great. Later that day, the teenager came by and told me how much I owed him. I was shocked at how little he was asking and gave him a big tip.
As we began grieving, I realized that Don just had too much on his plate. After work and on weekends, he needed free time. Add to that his allergies that are all stirred up when he mows the lawn, and I decided this was the summer to hire help.
I talked with the young man and he gave me an unbelievable rate. I agreed to hire him for half the summer, buying us some time to recover without over-committing.
Saturday evening, after our return from Gettysburg, I did a walk around the yard to check out the gardens. I couldn't believe how nice everything looked. This is the neatest our yard has been since my nephew did it for us several years ago. It looks manicured and, for once, I'm not embarrassed when I pull up in the driveway.
I've gotten way more than I had hoped. Our yard man shows up when the lawn needs work and takes care of it. I don't have to call him, I don't have to try and keep up with scheduling him. It's just DONE, and nicely.
I should have done this a long time ago. Wish I could hire someone to do the same thing for the inside of the house.
When we returned home, the yard looked great. Later that day, the teenager came by and told me how much I owed him. I was shocked at how little he was asking and gave him a big tip.
As we began grieving, I realized that Don just had too much on his plate. After work and on weekends, he needed free time. Add to that his allergies that are all stirred up when he mows the lawn, and I decided this was the summer to hire help.
I talked with the young man and he gave me an unbelievable rate. I agreed to hire him for half the summer, buying us some time to recover without over-committing.
Saturday evening, after our return from Gettysburg, I did a walk around the yard to check out the gardens. I couldn't believe how nice everything looked. This is the neatest our yard has been since my nephew did it for us several years ago. It looks manicured and, for once, I'm not embarrassed when I pull up in the driveway.
I've gotten way more than I had hoped. Our yard man shows up when the lawn needs work and takes care of it. I don't have to call him, I don't have to try and keep up with scheduling him. It's just DONE, and nicely.
I should have done this a long time ago. Wish I could hire someone to do the same thing for the inside of the house.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Whoops . . . did I say that?
While sitting at the table (in Gettysburg), eating dinner one night, Deanna and Dane began complaining about Daelyn.
"He talks constantly," one said.
"Yeah, Mama. He talks nonsense."
"He does. He just wants to hear his own voice."
"That's why he talks. He doesn't have anything to say, but he just keeps talking to hear his own voice. Half the time he's talking, it's just nonsense."
When they paused, Daelyn began talking nonsense again.
I reached over and patted him on the arm.
"Stop talking nonsense, Daelyn, and drink your broccoli."
So much for encouraging silence instead of silly talk.
"He talks constantly," one said.
"Yeah, Mama. He talks nonsense."
"He does. He just wants to hear his own voice."
"That's why he talks. He doesn't have anything to say, but he just keeps talking to hear his own voice. Half the time he's talking, it's just nonsense."
When they paused, Daelyn began talking nonsense again.
I reached over and patted him on the arm.
"Stop talking nonsense, Daelyn, and drink your broccoli."
So much for encouraging silence instead of silly talk.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Nothing Like Family
We're in Alexandria, VA for my niece's wedding. We arrives fairly late last night. Don pulled up to thefront door of the hotel and the kids and I ran in - them to go to the bathroom, me to register. While I was standing at the front desk checking in, two of my sisters appeared.
"We saw you drive up from an upstairs window," they told me. I've pondered that just a little - why were they standing at the window and how could it be that they happened to be there just at the moment of our arrival?
One of them is from our hometown, but the other lives in California and is the mother of the Bride. We embraced hungrily - it's exciting to see even the sister I see often in this setting.
As I continued checking in and discussing our connecting rooms (apparently, there's construction outside on one side of the hotel and they work all night with lights - very loud), the boys began wandering through the Lobby. Up walked the Groom. Again, hugs and kisses. He had put together a Hospitality Bag for us which was unbelievably thoughtful with everything else he had on his agenda.
We asked about moving to the other, quiet side of the hotel. No connecting rooms available. Okay, so can you give us two non-connecting rooms sandwiched in between family members? My sister and brother-in-law, nephew with his wife and two children, and another sister and my parents are all in a row on the 5th floor. If they could give us the next two rooms on either side, we would sandwich the children between us and family, which would be acceptable in lieu of a connecting room. No such luck. Everything we tried failed, so we were about to head up to our two connecting rooms on the loud side of the hotel to unpack and settle in when another niece's husband walked through the front door.
My parents have gone to visit a friend that lives in the D.C. area overnight, but will return this morning. After the boys got up, we dressed and I took them to visit their cousin's daughters - little girls. Our Deanna spent the night last night in the room with her Aunt Trina and that's where we found the little girls, pajama-clad and playing games with their Grandma's sister and their 2nd cousin. I left the boys there and took off for another sister's room to visit. A few minutes later, the girls found their way into that room and I heard them call my sister "Grandma" for the first time.
" 'Grandma'," I giggled.
"Yes, honey," she said. "I've been a Grandma for a long time now." She's only 6 years older than me, and here I am with young children not much older than her grandbabies.
"I know," I explained, "I'm just not used to hearing it." It's really funny to think of MY sister as a Grandma. Truth is, my brother is a grandpa twice over, Tenny has 5 grandchildren, and Toni and Trina each have married children and could become grandparents nine months from any given day. I'm lagging sorrowfully behind.
I DO desperately want grandchildren. Once I knew there would be NO MORE CHILDREN for me, I was immediately ready to begin holding grandbabies in my arms. But it will be quite sometime before I hit that milestone in life, thank God. I'm always mentioning to my children that it's their duty in life to take care of each other and me and Daddy when we're old and to give us LOTS of grandchildren, but not until they're at least 25 and established in a career field.
Until then, I have my siblings grandbabies to spoil, at least this week. And I plan on getting started right away!
"We saw you drive up from an upstairs window," they told me. I've pondered that just a little - why were they standing at the window and how could it be that they happened to be there just at the moment of our arrival?
One of them is from our hometown, but the other lives in California and is the mother of the Bride. We embraced hungrily - it's exciting to see even the sister I see often in this setting.
As I continued checking in and discussing our connecting rooms (apparently, there's construction outside on one side of the hotel and they work all night with lights - very loud), the boys began wandering through the Lobby. Up walked the Groom. Again, hugs and kisses. He had put together a Hospitality Bag for us which was unbelievably thoughtful with everything else he had on his agenda.
We asked about moving to the other, quiet side of the hotel. No connecting rooms available. Okay, so can you give us two non-connecting rooms sandwiched in between family members? My sister and brother-in-law, nephew with his wife and two children, and another sister and my parents are all in a row on the 5th floor. If they could give us the next two rooms on either side, we would sandwich the children between us and family, which would be acceptable in lieu of a connecting room. No such luck. Everything we tried failed, so we were about to head up to our two connecting rooms on the loud side of the hotel to unpack and settle in when another niece's husband walked through the front door.
My parents have gone to visit a friend that lives in the D.C. area overnight, but will return this morning. After the boys got up, we dressed and I took them to visit their cousin's daughters - little girls. Our Deanna spent the night last night in the room with her Aunt Trina and that's where we found the little girls, pajama-clad and playing games with their Grandma's sister and their 2nd cousin. I left the boys there and took off for another sister's room to visit. A few minutes later, the girls found their way into that room and I heard them call my sister "Grandma" for the first time.
" 'Grandma'," I giggled.
"Yes, honey," she said. "I've been a Grandma for a long time now." She's only 6 years older than me, and here I am with young children not much older than her grandbabies.
"I know," I explained, "I'm just not used to hearing it." It's really funny to think of MY sister as a Grandma. Truth is, my brother is a grandpa twice over, Tenny has 5 grandchildren, and Toni and Trina each have married children and could become grandparents nine months from any given day. I'm lagging sorrowfully behind.
I DO desperately want grandchildren. Once I knew there would be NO MORE CHILDREN for me, I was immediately ready to begin holding grandbabies in my arms. But it will be quite sometime before I hit that milestone in life, thank God. I'm always mentioning to my children that it's their duty in life to take care of each other and me and Daddy when we're old and to give us LOTS of grandchildren, but not until they're at least 25 and established in a career field.
Until then, I have my siblings grandbabies to spoil, at least this week. And I plan on getting started right away!
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
A Little More Culture
We were just finished up dinner last night and Don was beginning to take food off the table and return it to the stove. Deanna began humming softly. I immediately recognized the tune, one I've taught her. It was "In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Edvard Grieg from the Peer Gynt Suite.
When I was growing up, my parents loved classical music and played it for us children. My mother had a reel-to-reel tape of "Peter and the Wolf", which our family would sit around and enjoy together quite often. I was always captivated by the way the music told the story.
The Peer Gynt Suite was another of our favorites, my personal favorite piece being, "In the Hall of the Mountain King". I find myself humming it quite often and my children love the way it builds. So I wasn't surprised to hear Deanna's lilting voice softly visiting the same song.
Dane, however, needs yet another touch of culture, it seems.
"Is that 'In the Den of the Lion King', Sissy?"
When I was growing up, my parents loved classical music and played it for us children. My mother had a reel-to-reel tape of "Peter and the Wolf", which our family would sit around and enjoy together quite often. I was always captivated by the way the music told the story.
The Peer Gynt Suite was another of our favorites, my personal favorite piece being, "In the Hall of the Mountain King". I find myself humming it quite often and my children love the way it builds. So I wasn't surprised to hear Deanna's lilting voice softly visiting the same song.
Dane, however, needs yet another touch of culture, it seems.
"Is that 'In the Den of the Lion King', Sissy?"
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