The Human Jack-o-Lantern

Dane has lost 4 teeth in the last three weeks, including two since we've been at Grandpa Doughty's. The most recent one is a molar. I'm absolutely convinced that if he doesn't grow some teeth soon, the ones he has left in his mouth will end up turning sideways. He's even talking funny now, without teeth to press his tongue against. He's gained a strange lisp.

Daelyn, on the other hand, is starting Fourth Grade in the Fall and has yet to lose his first baby tooth. He thinks one is loose; Dane was trying to convince him to pull it during Church yesterday. I didn't particularly want him dripping blood from his mouth when we went up for Communion, so I banned him from pulling it until we were home. He seems to have forgotten about it now.

The Dentist always says that every child loses their teeth on their own schedule. I still have several of my baby teeth; no adult teeth replaced them, and I was lucky they were able to save the baby ones, or I'd have big gaps in my mouth. I found out recently that one of my sisters has been visiting the dentist because he's trying to save one of her baby teeth where she'll never have an adult tooth. This seems to be a very prevalent probem in our family.

It all stems from "the parents"! My father has 4 missing teeth, my mother has 3. Missing teeth is a genetic problem. I seem to have genetically inherited all 7 of the "missing family teeth". One of my sisters inherited only one. I don't know about the rest of the family, but my childrens' pediatric dentist is watching them all very carefully for genetically-missing teeth.

It might be a while before we know Dalyn's status, but we're all hoping Dane gets his adult teeth, and gets them soon. None of us are too thrilled with the idea of having a human jack-o-lantern in the family.

I Bet It Made His Night

We're at Grandpa Doughty's and went out to dinner last night at Outback. It's been much cooler here in Parkersburg, WV than our typical 101 at home. I realized, once we were seated in the restaurant, that I should have brought a winter coat; it was like a meat locker inside.

Finally, after waiting about 20 minutes for our hot food to arrive, I couldn't stand it any longer and took my brown cloth napkin and someone else's and draped them over my arms. Deanna passed me her purse to put in my lap, thinking the fabric might help warm me up a little.

The family seemed to get quite a kick out of my napkin-draped arms. As we were goofing around, I put a napkin over my head, gazed out through the small slit left as it fell around my face, and uttered,

"You have no idea how strong the dark side of the force is . . ." Just as I was laughing diabolically, the waiter appeared with our meals.

Grandpa tried to quickly warn me, but I couldn't get the napkin off my head in time.

The waiter smiled politely, handed me my HOT coffee, then reached to a neighboring tablee for sugar.

"Here's some sugar for your coffee, Darth," he said.

Everybody's a comic.

Not a Question about our Mental Condition

On the way home from the mountains, we stopped at a Pizza Hut for dinner. The children and I all love parmesan cheese and use it very liberally on our pizza. A friend taught me to take the top off the shaker so you can "really" cover your pizza thoroughly.

When Deanna reached for the parmesan, Don beat her to it. Then he began covering her pizza for her. When she complained, he shook parmesan onto her hands, then the table around her plate, a little over her shoulder . . .

She got to giggling. Daelyn and I watched quietly. We decided not to ask for Don to pass the shaker, afraid he'd give us a similar treatment. We waited patiently for him to finish, which took quite some time. Deanna was laughing and shaking her hands, trying to get all the parmesan off them.

Daelyn and I shook our heads.

"Daddy, you're crazy," he said. I agreed vigorously.

Just then, the waitress approached our table.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

We all turned and looked blankly at her. Obviously, we were not okay. In fact, in general, our family is anything but okay. We're crazy, mixed-up, and fun, but not okay. She looked back at our strange expressions, obviously confused at our response. When I finally realized she was asking if we needed anything, I cracked up.

"We are DEFINITELY NOT okay," I told her, then pointed to the pile of parmesan on the table in front of Deanna.

The poor girl; she seemed like a nice sort. I felt very bad for her. How can anyone prepare to wait on a family like ours?

Thank goodness, she had a good sense of humor and seemed to understand the expressions on our faces. But the question, "Are you okay" will never again hold quite the same meaning for us.

Our Mountain Trek

We took Dane to Boy Scout camp yesterday in the mountains of North Georgia. The other boys went up in two vans driven by the Scout leaders who are spending the week up there. I decided about a week ago that I needed to explain to Dane that we weren't going to take him to Camp this year.

Me: "Son, you know, the boys are all riding together in vans to Camp this year."

Dane: "Well, Mom, seems how I'm going to be away from you for a whole week and I'm going to be there for my birthday and not able to celebrate it at home with you, I'll just ride with you and Dad in our van."

I dropped the topic. Later that night, I discussed it with Don.

Don: "Do you think he understood that you were telling him we weren't going?"

Me: "I dunno. I was trying to break it to him gently. But it sure sounds like he wants us to take him."

Don: "Maybe you ought to try again and, this time, be a little clearer. Tell him that we weren't planning on going."

Me: "But we took him to Camp LAST year!"

Don: "Yes, honey, but that was a 50 minute drive. This is a 3 1/2 hour, one way."

Me: "But if we don't take him, I won't get to see his cabin and the dining hall and look things over good so I understand what he's talking about when he tells us all about Camp."

Don: "You DO realize that it's Pentecost Sunday, don't you. If we take him to Camp, we'll miss Pentecost. Try again to explain to him that we didn't plan on taking him."

So, the next day (does this smack of "Little Bunny Foo-Foo?) . . .

Me: "Dane, Son, I wanted to talk with you again about Camp."

Dane: "What is it, Mom?"

Me: "Well, Daddy and I were not planning on driving you up this year. They're taking all the boys up in Vans and there aren't any other parents going."

Dane, shocked: "What do you mean, 'not planning on driving up'? You HAVE to go up and look everything over. You have to see my cabin and stuff. Besides, if you don't go, then I won't get to drive up with Deanna and Daelyn, and I'm going to be away from them for a whole week . . . No, I think you and Dad need to drive me up. We can follow the other vans."

Sounds pretty clear to me. We weren't going, we are now. I broke the news to Don later that night. He just laughed. My son knows me pretty well, apparently.

So, we trekked up to the North Georgia mountains. It was beautiful, Dane was excited, and we trudged up the hill to the campsite with the boys.

"Aunt Patti, will you hold my money for me?"

"Aunt Patti, where do you think we should put our clothes?"

"Aunt Patti, did you see the bath house up there on the hill?"

Most of the boys didn't seem the least bit surprised that we were there, although I definitely felt a little out-of-place. On our way up the mountain to their campsite, it began raining; not just a gentle rain, but a monsoon. The Georgia red clay was rushing in torrents down the path. We were soaked completely through and the Guides suggested we take refuge inside the cabins. Deanna, Daelyn and I stood around in Dane's cabin, talking with the other boys. Then I noticed Dane standing in the doorway, talking quietly with his father. They talked in soft tones for about 20 minutes. I never caught a single word, but it warmed my heart watching father and son, there together, sharing a few moments before we parted for the week.

We were on the road about 9 hours total, but it was worth every minute to see those precious twenty shared between parent and child. In those few moments, Dane seemed much older than his soon-to-be 12 and more like a young man heading off for college. I was painfully reminded of how few years we have left with him.

I'm awfully thankful we took him, after all. And I'm even more thankful that he wanted us to. I expect there will be precious few of those opportunities in the near future.

Embarrassing the Kids

On the way to Dane's baseball game earlier this week, the kids asked me about our dear family friend, Uncle Claude. This man was like a grandfather to me. He had been stationed in Germany with my father before Mom and Dad even married and, once they did, he and his wife lived in the same apartment building. Over many years, my parents lost track of him, only to rediscover him here in Augusta when my father was transferred to Ft. Gordon.

Anyway, I loved Uncle Claude. He was the kind of person who teaches with everything he says to you. He talked my father into buying me a horse (one he had found that he thought was reasonably priced and appropriate for me), then kept my horse at his farm for me. I could call him at work any afternoon and tell him I wanted to ride and he'd swing by on his way home and pick me up. I would follow him around as he did his chores, talking the whole time, ride for a while, then go in and wash up for dinner. After dinner, Uncle Claude would always call me in to sit on his lap and tell him everything that was on my mind. I'd snuggle in close as he sat in his big chair and pour out all my worries, concerns, etc. He was like salve for any wounds I had.

On the way to the game, we passed a landmark that reminded me of my Uncle Claude (who was really no relation to us) and I mentioned him to the children. They've heard about Uncle Claude many times, but Daelyn spoke up from the back seat.

"Is Uncle Claude still alive, Mama?" he asked.

We buried Uncle Claude many years ago, when Deanna was just a toddler and before Daelyn was even born.

"No, honey. He died, and I cried," I said.

From the front seat of the van, Deanna chimed in a sing-song voice, "My Aunt Sue had a beard, and it felt weird . . . Oosta!!"

For those of you who may not recognize this little ditty, it's from one of the Veggie Tales movies. Larry is lying on a psychiatrist's couch and singing about his Aunt kissing him and having to be hospitalized for his lips - very silly song.

The song really is catchy and I found myself shouting "oosta" whenever I saw anything significant. This followed me right into Dane's game.

For several weeks now, Deanna has laughed about the way the Umpires announce a strike. They yell something that in no way resembles, "Strike!" Usually, it sounds more like "paugh", but the Umpire on Monday actually said, "Ike".

As we sat in the stands, Deanna and I began laughing about "ike" as we counted them . . . "one ike, two ikes" we said. While we were talking quietly, the brother of one of Dane's teammates yelled,

"Ike Three!!!! Yeah!!"

Deanna looked at me, eyes wide with shock, and began to laugh.

"That's just plain scary, Mom. You're rubbing off on people."

I just couldn't help myself. I turned around and said to the young man,

"Once they get three ikes, it's an 'oosta'!"

Each time our pitcher retired a batter, I'd shout, "oosta" at the top of my lungs. When we moved into the other half of the inning and our batters were walked or came into home, I'd yell "oosta". By the middle of the game, this group of young men were yelling for ikes and oostas right along with me.

I looked to my right, where Daelyn and Dane's friend, J.P., were sitting. They had moved to a discreet distance away from me. Deanna, sitting on my left, was also scooting down the bleachers in the opposite direction. But the real kicker was when Dane came across home plate and I shouted "oosta" into the air. He walked up to the fence, looked pointedly at me, and said,

"I am NOT related to you. I do NOT know you" before walking into the dugout.

Now, how do you like that? I entertain my children during a boring baseball game and none of them want to be identified with me. The other kids that really weren't related to me were having a wonderful time. It was great fun shouting for ikes and oostas.

I was a little tamer tonight; downright quiet by our family's standards. No ikes or oostas to be had. I was at Daelyn's game alone while Deanna and Don watched Dane's final game of the season, and it just wasn't near as fun to yell ridiculous things into the air without children to embarrass sitting around me.

I have to have an audience - preferrably one that's related to me.

A Day at the Lake

I had the best time today that I've had in a very long time and, for those of you who know me, I ALWAYS have a good time, so today had to have been FABULOUS (which it, of course, was)!!!!

A group of 50 - 75 of us all went to a park on the recreational lake thirty minutes from here. One of the men had rented a Pavilion at a State Park (at least, I think it was a State Park) and every family who attended pitched in $5 to help cover the cost. All of us brought our own food: meat for the grill, side dishes, and drinks. Each family ended up having their own table, but we walked from table to table offering tastes of this, a bite of that, a spoonful of a favorite recipe. Some people, like us, went out early. We had planned to leave by 10:15, but it was closer to 11:15 before we actually got on the road. By the time we arrived, there were already about 8 families there. Throughout the day, more arrived. It seemed like there was a constant influx of new folks.

Some people, like us, stayed late. They cooked dinner rather than lunch and enjoyed the waning hours of sunlight. In my rush this morning, I asked the children to all help pack up. One of the boys was responsible for the condiments, another was given the task of packing up our meat. I had planned to take Cheddarwurst and Polish Sausage. When we arrived and Don went to throw our meat on the grill, we discovered that the appointed child had also brought along a package of Angus hot dogs, which served us very well when we stayed so late we needed dinner. Don, in his infinite wisdom, had purchased extra buns, so we had enough for both meals.

So, "you spent the day at the Lake; how nice" you might say. But that wouldn't begin to explain our day. A friend brought his ski boat and two of his double inner tubes. Another brought 8 kayaks for our enjoyment. Moms sat on the beach together talking while watched all the youngsters playing together in the water or digging in the sand. Dads played cards in the Pavilion, laughing and telling stories. A group of tweens (Dane included) went from kayaks to tubing to swimming, and back again in a gaggle. I moved from group to group, socializing with people I see daily but seldom have time to talk with. At one point, a group of us gals commandeered the kayaks and all took off together out into the lake. We splashed each other, explored a rocky area, and just laid out on the water, enjoying the sun and fellowship. I swam until my eyes ached, spending time with both Daelyn and Deanna. I tubed on two separate trips, with both Deanna and Daelyn, and rode in the boat with several good friends. I laughed, told stories, listened, joked, fellowshiped, ate, laughed some more, and had the most fun I can remember in recent history. My arms ache from tubing and kayaking, my head aches from sun glinting off water, my lip aches where I bit it when I hit an especially rough patch of wake, and my eyes ache from suntan lotion and lake water. But I'm content, tired, and happy.

During one of our tubing trips, our good friend, Ken, stopped the boat for a swim. We all dove in and the tubers rolled off into the water. All the women gathered together, most of us talking at the same time. One of my dear friends and neighbors commented that she had smiled so much today that her cheeks actually hurt. It wasn't only ME that was having a wonderful time.

We were one of the last families to leave the lake. It just was too much fun to end any earlier. We're all exhausted and I keep thinking that this is only the start of the summer. It's hard to imagine that we might have even more of these days yet to come.

The thing that made our day so much fun was not that we were at the lake, although that was awesome. Not that we had a ski boat and kayaks, although they were amazing. Not that the weather was perfect, although I'm sure that contributed. No, the thing that made the day so special was the relationships, the people who were there with us. Spending time with special friends in a setting other than the usual.

I'm exhausted but so very content. It was a lovely day for all of us. The next time we get a call that someone has reserved a shelter and we're invited to come, we may have to camp out there the night before to be sure we don't miss a single minute. They're just too precious to waste these days.