Alicia has an aversion to the word "fun", which she pointedly mentioned to us after I commented how "fun" lunch had been at the restaurant on the beach.
"Why does everything have to be 'fun'?" she asked. The kids and I just looked at each other.
Okay, I understand that life is more than just the sum total of fun experiences. We all need to learn responsibility and discipline. Our relationship with the Lord is far more important than having a good time. But, I still maintain that all of these things can be fun if you just have the right attitude.
When I was younger, fun wasn't as paramount. But now, as an older mom, I really want life to be fun - for me AND my children.
Lunch should be fun, riding in the car should be fun, being together as a family must always be fun. I'm just sorry for Alicia that she doesn't get this.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Panama City Beach and Shell Island
We had an interesting experience Monday. We were in Panama City Beach, Florida visiting my niece, Alicia, who lives there. Her husband, Randy, has a nice boat and he took the day off work Monday to take us out in the Gulf.
We had the boat in the water and were heading out by 10:15. First, Randy took us to see dolphins. A large group of small boats, mostly tours, had collected in the area where the dolphins "hang out" and people were in the water, hoping to snorkel with the dolphins who were surfacing around them. We decided to move away from the crowd and, when we did, a mother and baby dolphin swam right up to our boat and around us several times. They were so close we could have reached out and touched them if the boat hadn't been sitting so high in the water. The mother actually made eye contact with us. Alicia said she thinks the dolphins like being around people, because they always come near the boats. The baby was beautiful and the mother had a white nose. It was a really fun experience.
After playing with the dolphins for a while (Randy got in the water with them, but none of us reacted quickly enough to do it), we moved the boat right off the coast of Shell Island, a small, uninhabited island in the Gulf, and anchored. The water was crystal clear, a pretty aqua, and the children and I quickly donned masks and snorkels and headed towards the beach. We snorkeled for a couple of hours, finding amazing shells and chasing crab. Alicia and Randy walked down the white sand beach. Deanna filled her bucket with spiral shells. Then Randy took Deanna out deeper and showed her a school (I guess that's what you call them, because they do seem to travel in large groups) of sand dollars. Most were alive and there were a lot of babies, but some were dead and white. Those we collected. I was amazed at how many small ones we found, smaller than a penny but perfect in every way.
The number of white, bleached sand dollars we found made me think about the report Dane did on coral reefs that are dying in record amounts due to global warming. The higher water temperatures are causing a chemical reaction to occur which bleaches reefs and kills them. I don't know if we were witnessing the same effect or not, but it sure made me think.
At one point, we noticed that our feet were surrounded by schools of bait fish. They were nibbling on our pale skin. We tried very hard to discourage them, with no success. Then Dane got an idea. He baited his hook with a small piece of shrimp we had brought along, then dangled his fishing pole in the water. He got lots of nibbles, but his hook was too large for the small fish. Eventually, we got out a net and I worked with him, successfully nabbing one small fish. Dane put it in the pocket of his bathing suit, then continued fishing. (Randy made him release it later in the day. Apparently, they were uncertain if the little thing was going to make it, but it finally recovered and took off.)
After fishing and swimming off the beach at Shell Island for several hours, we loaded back up on the boat and went inland. We docked and walked down the docks to a restaurant, Tacky Jack's, and sat by the pool. We ordered lunch and ran back and forth to the pool while waiting for our food. It was quite an experience. When we were all full beyond belief, we walked back down the dock to the boat and headed in.
The day smacked of our vacation in Hawaii last summer - the color of the water, the snorkeling, the lazy do-whatever-you-want pace. It was truly what I consider A VACATION. And it was totally unexpected. We had gone down to Panama City Beach to visit Alicia; the fact that she lives on the beach was a plus, but we would've visited her anywhere she lived. When she told us upon our arrival that Randy had taken the day off so we could go out in the boat on Monday, I didn't particularly care. I've been on boats lots of times, and I thought this was just another boat trip. Then it turned out to be the highlight of our visit!
It's always good being with Alicia. We've been very close since she was born and have always had a special relationship. She's pregnant now with her first child and seeing her swollen belly and talking about pregnancy woes and childbirth brought more joy that I ever imagined. She and Randy have really settled in. They've found a new church where they're both happy and have done an incredible amount of work on the house, the cottage, and the yard. In the cottage, I spotted the coffee mugs that match my old plates, that I gave to Alicia when Don and I married and he refused to eat off rose-colored glass plates. There was a trivet on the kitchen counter that I gave her years ago. In her house, I found several carved wooden trivets hanging on the wall in the kitchen that had once been mine. I feel like my presence in her home is still felt, and I'm a part of her life, even so far away. It was a wonderful feeling.
So, we're home now, a little tired from the drive, but happy. We had a wonderful time, ate our fill of fresh shrimp, Dane got to fish, we boated, swam, played in the sand, and I read a great John Grisham book. We visited by the hour and watched movies. We played board games and relaxed. I even had wine a couple of evenings. We had a true vacation and enjoyed every second.
We had the boat in the water and were heading out by 10:15. First, Randy took us to see dolphins. A large group of small boats, mostly tours, had collected in the area where the dolphins "hang out" and people were in the water, hoping to snorkel with the dolphins who were surfacing around them. We decided to move away from the crowd and, when we did, a mother and baby dolphin swam right up to our boat and around us several times. They were so close we could have reached out and touched them if the boat hadn't been sitting so high in the water. The mother actually made eye contact with us. Alicia said she thinks the dolphins like being around people, because they always come near the boats. The baby was beautiful and the mother had a white nose. It was a really fun experience.
After playing with the dolphins for a while (Randy got in the water with them, but none of us reacted quickly enough to do it), we moved the boat right off the coast of Shell Island, a small, uninhabited island in the Gulf, and anchored. The water was crystal clear, a pretty aqua, and the children and I quickly donned masks and snorkels and headed towards the beach. We snorkeled for a couple of hours, finding amazing shells and chasing crab. Alicia and Randy walked down the white sand beach. Deanna filled her bucket with spiral shells. Then Randy took Deanna out deeper and showed her a school (I guess that's what you call them, because they do seem to travel in large groups) of sand dollars. Most were alive and there were a lot of babies, but some were dead and white. Those we collected. I was amazed at how many small ones we found, smaller than a penny but perfect in every way.
The number of white, bleached sand dollars we found made me think about the report Dane did on coral reefs that are dying in record amounts due to global warming. The higher water temperatures are causing a chemical reaction to occur which bleaches reefs and kills them. I don't know if we were witnessing the same effect or not, but it sure made me think.
At one point, we noticed that our feet were surrounded by schools of bait fish. They were nibbling on our pale skin. We tried very hard to discourage them, with no success. Then Dane got an idea. He baited his hook with a small piece of shrimp we had brought along, then dangled his fishing pole in the water. He got lots of nibbles, but his hook was too large for the small fish. Eventually, we got out a net and I worked with him, successfully nabbing one small fish. Dane put it in the pocket of his bathing suit, then continued fishing. (Randy made him release it later in the day. Apparently, they were uncertain if the little thing was going to make it, but it finally recovered and took off.)
After fishing and swimming off the beach at Shell Island for several hours, we loaded back up on the boat and went inland. We docked and walked down the docks to a restaurant, Tacky Jack's, and sat by the pool. We ordered lunch and ran back and forth to the pool while waiting for our food. It was quite an experience. When we were all full beyond belief, we walked back down the dock to the boat and headed in.
The day smacked of our vacation in Hawaii last summer - the color of the water, the snorkeling, the lazy do-whatever-you-want pace. It was truly what I consider A VACATION. And it was totally unexpected. We had gone down to Panama City Beach to visit Alicia; the fact that she lives on the beach was a plus, but we would've visited her anywhere she lived. When she told us upon our arrival that Randy had taken the day off so we could go out in the boat on Monday, I didn't particularly care. I've been on boats lots of times, and I thought this was just another boat trip. Then it turned out to be the highlight of our visit!
It's always good being with Alicia. We've been very close since she was born and have always had a special relationship. She's pregnant now with her first child and seeing her swollen belly and talking about pregnancy woes and childbirth brought more joy that I ever imagined. She and Randy have really settled in. They've found a new church where they're both happy and have done an incredible amount of work on the house, the cottage, and the yard. In the cottage, I spotted the coffee mugs that match my old plates, that I gave to Alicia when Don and I married and he refused to eat off rose-colored glass plates. There was a trivet on the kitchen counter that I gave her years ago. In her house, I found several carved wooden trivets hanging on the wall in the kitchen that had once been mine. I feel like my presence in her home is still felt, and I'm a part of her life, even so far away. It was a wonderful feeling.
So, we're home now, a little tired from the drive, but happy. We had a wonderful time, ate our fill of fresh shrimp, Dane got to fish, we boated, swam, played in the sand, and I read a great John Grisham book. We visited by the hour and watched movies. We played board games and relaxed. I even had wine a couple of evenings. We had a true vacation and enjoyed every second.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Ah, vacation!
The boys and I got home yesterday from two weeks at Grandpa Doughty's. It's wonderful to be home; the grass is tall and very green, unlike the burnt version we left behind two weeks ago and the garden is producing wildly. It's time to harvest my basil yet again and I'll get several jars of pickles from the cucs that were ripe yesterday. I brought fresh dill, corn-on-the-cob, and zucchini home from Grandpa's with me, so I have baking (zucchini bread), cooking, and preserving to tackle as soon as I get my breath.
I SLEPT last night, for the first time in 2 weeks. I don't know what happened to me at Grandpa's, but sleep wasn't one of them. I've always slept really well there before, but this time I had to take medicine for itching and was, generally-speaking, miserable for various reasons every night. Being in my own bed was wonderful.
Seeing Don, being able to really TALK to him (phones are a sorry alternative) and spending time with Deanna after being gone a full week from the two of them occupied the rest of my day yesterday. I have my family together again. The boys are thrilled to be home and can't stay out of the backyard. They've played with their friends until they've exhausted me just telling me where they're at.
But the dog and I are a little sad, as well. Donovan misses Sassy (Grandpa's dog) and the freedom to run outside whenever he wishes. Grandpa has a fenced-in yard and a doggie door and Donovan spent lots of time just laying on the deck outside, enjoying the sunny days. He must've smelled every square inch of yard, decking, and fencing at least a hundred times and barked incessantly (sometimes too much) to the two great danes that live behind Grandpa. Sassy has become really playful with him over the years until, now, she instigates playtime with him many times daily. Grandpa says she's never as young-acting as when we're there.
And I feel overwhelmed by the sheet volume of daily upkeep of my house. Grandpa's house is so peaceful and quiet. It really is a vacation for me being there. No phones ringing, no kids running in and out constantly. We sit as a family for lunch and dinner every day. Here, I'm lucky to see the children before dinner. I read a great book while there and almost finished a second novel. I crafted, canned, relaxed, slept, ran errands, and took the kids to do fun stuff. And there are so few daily chores. I did laundry a few times; that was easy. I set the table twice and day; that was easy. I cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen, and unloaded the dishwasher the next day. It was all easy. Places for everything. No hunting and reorganizing to just be able to put things away.
There's so little "stuff" that we take up there that there's almost nothing to need to put away. Neatening up took 5 minutes. Here, I can work for weeks and never find the end.
I guess I should just be thankful we have opportunities like that last two weeks. It was a wonderful reprieve. But, now, it's time to buckle down, unpack, catch up the laundry, sweep the floors, clean off the counters, and get rid of EVERYTHING I CAN along the way.
Another vacation in just over a week to visit my niece. I've gotta get the essentials done here so I can repack. But homecomings like this one convince me all the more that, come Fall and the return to school, I've GOT to downsize.
I SLEPT last night, for the first time in 2 weeks. I don't know what happened to me at Grandpa's, but sleep wasn't one of them. I've always slept really well there before, but this time I had to take medicine for itching and was, generally-speaking, miserable for various reasons every night. Being in my own bed was wonderful.
Seeing Don, being able to really TALK to him (phones are a sorry alternative) and spending time with Deanna after being gone a full week from the two of them occupied the rest of my day yesterday. I have my family together again. The boys are thrilled to be home and can't stay out of the backyard. They've played with their friends until they've exhausted me just telling me where they're at.
But the dog and I are a little sad, as well. Donovan misses Sassy (Grandpa's dog) and the freedom to run outside whenever he wishes. Grandpa has a fenced-in yard and a doggie door and Donovan spent lots of time just laying on the deck outside, enjoying the sunny days. He must've smelled every square inch of yard, decking, and fencing at least a hundred times and barked incessantly (sometimes too much) to the two great danes that live behind Grandpa. Sassy has become really playful with him over the years until, now, she instigates playtime with him many times daily. Grandpa says she's never as young-acting as when we're there.
And I feel overwhelmed by the sheet volume of daily upkeep of my house. Grandpa's house is so peaceful and quiet. It really is a vacation for me being there. No phones ringing, no kids running in and out constantly. We sit as a family for lunch and dinner every day. Here, I'm lucky to see the children before dinner. I read a great book while there and almost finished a second novel. I crafted, canned, relaxed, slept, ran errands, and took the kids to do fun stuff. And there are so few daily chores. I did laundry a few times; that was easy. I set the table twice and day; that was easy. I cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen, and unloaded the dishwasher the next day. It was all easy. Places for everything. No hunting and reorganizing to just be able to put things away.
There's so little "stuff" that we take up there that there's almost nothing to need to put away. Neatening up took 5 minutes. Here, I can work for weeks and never find the end.
I guess I should just be thankful we have opportunities like that last two weeks. It was a wonderful reprieve. But, now, it's time to buckle down, unpack, catch up the laundry, sweep the floors, clean off the counters, and get rid of EVERYTHING I CAN along the way.
Another vacation in just over a week to visit my niece. I've gotta get the essentials done here so I can repack. But homecomings like this one convince me all the more that, come Fall and the return to school, I've GOT to downsize.
Monday, June 27, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, June 13, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Friday, June 10, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Not Too Impressive
The High School Principal, who is also a nationally-renowned Math teacher, spent an hour a day last week with the 8th Graders, preparing them for their move to the high school. He taught them how to use their Texas Instrument Calculators as well as other things so they can hit the ground running in September.
We dearly love this man, Mr. Funsch, but he CAN be a little intimidating. First of all, he's a high school teacher. Second, he's the Principal. Third, he is tall, thin, and imposing. And fourth, he smiles sparingly and appears stern most of the time, despite his incredible sense of humor, which Deanna has yet to experience.
Deanna has been with me when I've joked and bantered with him and she's well aware of the esteem with which Don and I both hold him. She felt it was very important to also show respect and, more than anything, she wanted his first impression of her in school to be very positive. Truthfully, she wanted him to think she was smart, self-assured, and attentive.
She sat very straight while with him. She told me she hung on his every word, never taking her eyes off him, pen poised above paper to jot down any important tidbit he might bestow on them. She was focused, concentrating, and trying very hard to seem intelligent and thoughtful.
"So," Mr. Funsch said the first day, "let's count off by fours. Faith, you're #1."
When Faith stared blankly at him, he said, "Just say 'One', Faith," which she did. Then he pointed at Deanna.
She smiled triumphantly. "FIVE!"
When he didn't move on, her brow furrowed. Then she noticed he was holding up two fingers for her to see.
"Four?" she asked. When I talked with him about this incident later, he said she had also suggested seven as the answer to counting off by fours.
Gently, ever so patiently, he said, "Two."
Deanna hung her head in shame. So much for impressing the High School Principal. Now he thinks she can't count to two.
Obviously, Deanna thought counting off by fours, if Faith started with 1, meant 5, 9, 13 . . . Mr. Funsch, however, meant 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4 . . .
By the time Deanna got home from school, she could clearly see the humor in this whole situation and laughed hysterically when telling me the story. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to joke with Mr. Funsch about my first child to encounter him as a teacher, so I gave him a call.
"I heard you had a little problem with the eighth grade today," I said. He, obviously, was still wearing his teacher/principal hat, and didn't get that I was kidding.
"No," he countered. "What do you mean?"
"They had difficulty counting by fours," I explained further.
Finally, he realized what I was talking about.
I continued. "So, you thought you'd be teaching them about their T.I.'s, but I bet you never thought you'd have to teach them to count to 2 first."
"It's not going to be a problem," he said. "I'm not the slightest bit worried."
Then he paused.
"I have them divided into groups now. No need for them to count anymore!"
We dearly love this man, Mr. Funsch, but he CAN be a little intimidating. First of all, he's a high school teacher. Second, he's the Principal. Third, he is tall, thin, and imposing. And fourth, he smiles sparingly and appears stern most of the time, despite his incredible sense of humor, which Deanna has yet to experience.
Deanna has been with me when I've joked and bantered with him and she's well aware of the esteem with which Don and I both hold him. She felt it was very important to also show respect and, more than anything, she wanted his first impression of her in school to be very positive. Truthfully, she wanted him to think she was smart, self-assured, and attentive.
She sat very straight while with him. She told me she hung on his every word, never taking her eyes off him, pen poised above paper to jot down any important tidbit he might bestow on them. She was focused, concentrating, and trying very hard to seem intelligent and thoughtful.
"So," Mr. Funsch said the first day, "let's count off by fours. Faith, you're #1."
When Faith stared blankly at him, he said, "Just say 'One', Faith," which she did. Then he pointed at Deanna.
She smiled triumphantly. "FIVE!"
When he didn't move on, her brow furrowed. Then she noticed he was holding up two fingers for her to see.
"Four?" she asked. When I talked with him about this incident later, he said she had also suggested seven as the answer to counting off by fours.
Gently, ever so patiently, he said, "Two."
Deanna hung her head in shame. So much for impressing the High School Principal. Now he thinks she can't count to two.
Obviously, Deanna thought counting off by fours, if Faith started with 1, meant 5, 9, 13 . . . Mr. Funsch, however, meant 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4 . . .
By the time Deanna got home from school, she could clearly see the humor in this whole situation and laughed hysterically when telling me the story. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to joke with Mr. Funsch about my first child to encounter him as a teacher, so I gave him a call.
"I heard you had a little problem with the eighth grade today," I said. He, obviously, was still wearing his teacher/principal hat, and didn't get that I was kidding.
"No," he countered. "What do you mean?"
"They had difficulty counting by fours," I explained further.
Finally, he realized what I was talking about.
I continued. "So, you thought you'd be teaching them about their T.I.'s, but I bet you never thought you'd have to teach them to count to 2 first."
"It's not going to be a problem," he said. "I'm not the slightest bit worried."
Then he paused.
"I have them divided into groups now. No need for them to count anymore!"
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Train, Lifeguard, and Nose
I was enroute to baseball practice a couple weeks ago when I heard a funny whistling sound in the van.
"Do you hear that?" I asked the boys.
"Hear what?" they both asked.
"That whistling sound." I was sure they were feigning ignorance. It was a very noticeable, frustrating sound.
"Does it sound like 'this'," Daelyn asked, making a strange noise, " 'cause that's my throat."
"No, son, it's not a throat sound. It sounds like a whistle."
Dane piped up immediately. "It's the seal on this window, Mom. I've noticed it's been making noise lately when we're driving fast and the air whistles through the window."
I glanced over to the passenger door. The seal around the door/window was, indeed, drooping down. I gave Dane instructions to push it back into place to eliminate that irritating sound. He complied.
A few minutes later, the same sound. I looked at the passenger door again. No, the seal was still intact right where it should be.
"That wasn't it, Dane. I still hear it."
After a moment's pause, Dane said, "Does it sound like 'this'?" There it was - that annoying 'wind whistling through the window' sound.
"YES!! That's it!!" I gleefully responded.
When Dane didn't say anything, I tilted my head and looked sideways at him. He had a big grin on his face as his eyes met mine.
"That's my Nose Whistle, Mom,"
"Do you hear that?" I asked the boys.
"Hear what?" they both asked.
"That whistling sound." I was sure they were feigning ignorance. It was a very noticeable, frustrating sound.
"Does it sound like 'this'," Daelyn asked, making a strange noise, " 'cause that's my throat."
"No, son, it's not a throat sound. It sounds like a whistle."
Dane piped up immediately. "It's the seal on this window, Mom. I've noticed it's been making noise lately when we're driving fast and the air whistles through the window."
I glanced over to the passenger door. The seal around the door/window was, indeed, drooping down. I gave Dane instructions to push it back into place to eliminate that irritating sound. He complied.
A few minutes later, the same sound. I looked at the passenger door again. No, the seal was still intact right where it should be.
"That wasn't it, Dane. I still hear it."
After a moment's pause, Dane said, "Does it sound like 'this'?" There it was - that annoying 'wind whistling through the window' sound.
"YES!! That's it!!" I gleefully responded.
When Dane didn't say anything, I tilted my head and looked sideways at him. He had a big grin on his face as his eyes met mine.
"That's my Nose Whistle, Mom,"
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
It's Finally the Yard's Turn
I had given up all hope of having a garden this year. Life on Coumadin meant giving up many things. I worked hard to convince myself that it didn't matter, one year without a garden would be just fine. I made a decision to hit Farmer's Markets hard, get great prices on excellent produce, and can, can, can. It just wouldn't be the fruit of MY hands and yard I would can.
Then, the amazing news came that I could discontinue Coumadin. It still took at least a week to work it all out of my system, but I turned a corner during Holy Week. I woke up one morning, wide awake, at 6:45 a.m., before my alarm clock began bellowing at me. This used to happen in my life, but was a very faded dream in recent history.
My father-in-law came for Easter and I called him in advance and asked for his help putting a box garden in a spot on the side of the house. I have one box garden, and I put another in about 3 years ago for Dane. But there was just enough space for a third, and I desperately wanted the extra garden. I have a huge garden against the back fence, but it hasn't been worked in two years and it's so overgrown, you can't even see the dog if he gets in there. Weeds are about thigh-high and I couldn't imagine ever finding the time to clean it up, till it, and plant it. The ONLY possibility was above-ground gardening, in rich, fertile soil that could be turned easily with a hand trowel and watered along with the other two box gardens.
Grandpa and Dane worked very hard and put in a beautiful box for me, lined with landscape fabric on the bottom and sides. I began filling it with topsoil, manure, compost, etc. immediately. Then, it happened. I went to Lowe's, bought some vegetable plants, and PUT IN MY GARDEN!!
I've been like a driven woman. Ever chance I get, I'm in the yard. I've been weeding, putting mulch around the trees and plants, pruning, neatening, sweeping . . . For years, my yard has looked like a cross between a jungle and a tenement. It could easily have been transplanted into the Slums. But slowly, EVER so slowly, it's improving. I'm getting more done each year to clean it up and beautify it. This year, I just can't stay out of the yard.
I'll decide I need to get laundry done or clean a particular room. Then the dog needs to tinkle, so I take him out. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm off on some outdoors project.
It feels amazing to be able to work outside, to have the energy to invest in the yard. Truth is, the weather is so hot in Georgia during most of the summer that the only yardwork I do has to be completed in the Spring, while it's still mild enough to be out of doors. I realize that whatever doesn't get done over the next few weeks likely won't get done until next year.
So, I work with a vengeance. And the yard is beginning to show evidence of care - yippee!!
There's always more to do, but, as I told Don last night, the inside of the house if falling down around our ears. If I don't hurry up and get the outside done, we won't have a house to come into. I've got more laundry than you can even imagine and cleaning chores that will take until Christmas to accomplish.
But I'm very happy as I survey the accomplishment of my hands. I don't know if anyone else will even notice, but I know what I've done, and am pleased.
Then, the amazing news came that I could discontinue Coumadin. It still took at least a week to work it all out of my system, but I turned a corner during Holy Week. I woke up one morning, wide awake, at 6:45 a.m., before my alarm clock began bellowing at me. This used to happen in my life, but was a very faded dream in recent history.
My father-in-law came for Easter and I called him in advance and asked for his help putting a box garden in a spot on the side of the house. I have one box garden, and I put another in about 3 years ago for Dane. But there was just enough space for a third, and I desperately wanted the extra garden. I have a huge garden against the back fence, but it hasn't been worked in two years and it's so overgrown, you can't even see the dog if he gets in there. Weeds are about thigh-high and I couldn't imagine ever finding the time to clean it up, till it, and plant it. The ONLY possibility was above-ground gardening, in rich, fertile soil that could be turned easily with a hand trowel and watered along with the other two box gardens.
Grandpa and Dane worked very hard and put in a beautiful box for me, lined with landscape fabric on the bottom and sides. I began filling it with topsoil, manure, compost, etc. immediately. Then, it happened. I went to Lowe's, bought some vegetable plants, and PUT IN MY GARDEN!!
I've been like a driven woman. Ever chance I get, I'm in the yard. I've been weeding, putting mulch around the trees and plants, pruning, neatening, sweeping . . . For years, my yard has looked like a cross between a jungle and a tenement. It could easily have been transplanted into the Slums. But slowly, EVER so slowly, it's improving. I'm getting more done each year to clean it up and beautify it. This year, I just can't stay out of the yard.
I'll decide I need to get laundry done or clean a particular room. Then the dog needs to tinkle, so I take him out. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm off on some outdoors project.
It feels amazing to be able to work outside, to have the energy to invest in the yard. Truth is, the weather is so hot in Georgia during most of the summer that the only yardwork I do has to be completed in the Spring, while it's still mild enough to be out of doors. I realize that whatever doesn't get done over the next few weeks likely won't get done until next year.
So, I work with a vengeance. And the yard is beginning to show evidence of care - yippee!!
There's always more to do, but, as I told Don last night, the inside of the house if falling down around our ears. If I don't hurry up and get the outside done, we won't have a house to come into. I've got more laundry than you can even imagine and cleaning chores that will take until Christmas to accomplish.
But I'm very happy as I survey the accomplishment of my hands. I don't know if anyone else will even notice, but I know what I've done, and am pleased.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Beyond the Obvious
My heart is full today. The song, "Great is Thy Faithfulness" keeps going around and around in my head. The Lord has been SO merciful and faithful to me.
Years ago, when yet a single, I would get so discouraged when I saw no potential mate on the horizon. At times, I was peaceful, enjoying being single and the freedom that came with that state in life. At others, I was a basket-case, wondering why NO ONE loved me unconditionally. (Of course, I mean no one other than God.)
One thing was certain - I would not marry anyone who wasn't God's perfect choice for me. I had watched some marriages struggle and fail. I knew I could be happy single but realized that being in a bad (or the wrong) marriage would take a toll on me, the cost of which could not be calculated. I preferred to be happy on and off as a single than miserable in a marriage, so I waited.
My friend, Jane, and I would get together regularly to pray. Around the new year, we would list the big prayers the Lord laid on our hearts in a book she kept in a drawer, then faithfully pray for those requests throughout the course of the next year. Year after year, we saw God honor these prayers and answer them in ways that were unimaginable to us. One year, when we gathered, another single friend, who was in a dating relationship, joined us. After praying for a while, Jane asked the Lord to speak to us, and we stood in silence for several minutes. Then Jane told us that she felt she had a word from the Lord that one of the three of us would be either married or headed towards marriage by the same time the following year. The other single woman confirmed the Word, saying she had heard the same one.
Jane and I both looked at our friend. It seemed pretty clear she was the one who would be marrying soon. We were very excited for her and all rejoiced that one of us would soon be moving into a different season in our lives. Since neither Jane nor I were dating, nor had any possibilities at the time, this all seemed quite reasonable. Our friend also felt she was the one for whom the Word was intended.
Turns out, it was me. Don and I began dating the end of August of the following year and, by the end of December, were very serious and both knew we were headed towards marriage. Both of those friends are still single. I WAS THE ONE that Word was meant for.
Don is God's perfect choice for me. I often say he's perfect; not in a human sense, but certainly perfect for me. Then, he gave me these precious children. Again, there are difficult times when I wonder how I'm going to survive until they're grown, but the good times are SO good that they outweigh the hard times. Don has always been able to provide well for our family, so I've been able to be a stay-at-home Mom, which is one of God's great mercies. I get to go on Field Trips, substitute at the school, drop my children off and pick them up every day. I get to stop by a friend's house for coffee in the morning, hit Wal-Mart at 8:30 when the parking lot is still empty, get yardwork done while it's still relatively cool outside. There are so many more blessings that God has poured out on me; not the least of which is still having both my parents living on the same road as me, two sisters in town that I talk with almost daily, many close friends who love and encourage me, and Alleluia, the Community that the Lord has loved me enough to allow me to be a part of.
Why shouldn't my heart be filled to overflowing? He loves me the most, as my Deanna would say. He loves me in little and big ways. He cares about the small things, like what color I paint the den, and makes His protecting hand clearly visible in large issues, such as my health. He is a great and might God, but not too big to notice even the small things that lay heavy on our hearts.
And isn't that truly what unconditional love is about? To love someone enough that you're concerned even about the seemingly insignificant things that affect them.
God has given me so much, but the greatest miracle, and the one for which I'm the MOST thankful, is that he's shown me HIS unconditional love through husband and children. He really is enough, but it took marriage and a family for me to see that HIS love is the greatest I will ever experience and meets my deepest needs.
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God, my Father!!!
Years ago, when yet a single, I would get so discouraged when I saw no potential mate on the horizon. At times, I was peaceful, enjoying being single and the freedom that came with that state in life. At others, I was a basket-case, wondering why NO ONE loved me unconditionally. (Of course, I mean no one other than God.)
One thing was certain - I would not marry anyone who wasn't God's perfect choice for me. I had watched some marriages struggle and fail. I knew I could be happy single but realized that being in a bad (or the wrong) marriage would take a toll on me, the cost of which could not be calculated. I preferred to be happy on and off as a single than miserable in a marriage, so I waited.
My friend, Jane, and I would get together regularly to pray. Around the new year, we would list the big prayers the Lord laid on our hearts in a book she kept in a drawer, then faithfully pray for those requests throughout the course of the next year. Year after year, we saw God honor these prayers and answer them in ways that were unimaginable to us. One year, when we gathered, another single friend, who was in a dating relationship, joined us. After praying for a while, Jane asked the Lord to speak to us, and we stood in silence for several minutes. Then Jane told us that she felt she had a word from the Lord that one of the three of us would be either married or headed towards marriage by the same time the following year. The other single woman confirmed the Word, saying she had heard the same one.
Jane and I both looked at our friend. It seemed pretty clear she was the one who would be marrying soon. We were very excited for her and all rejoiced that one of us would soon be moving into a different season in our lives. Since neither Jane nor I were dating, nor had any possibilities at the time, this all seemed quite reasonable. Our friend also felt she was the one for whom the Word was intended.
Turns out, it was me. Don and I began dating the end of August of the following year and, by the end of December, were very serious and both knew we were headed towards marriage. Both of those friends are still single. I WAS THE ONE that Word was meant for.
Don is God's perfect choice for me. I often say he's perfect; not in a human sense, but certainly perfect for me. Then, he gave me these precious children. Again, there are difficult times when I wonder how I'm going to survive until they're grown, but the good times are SO good that they outweigh the hard times. Don has always been able to provide well for our family, so I've been able to be a stay-at-home Mom, which is one of God's great mercies. I get to go on Field Trips, substitute at the school, drop my children off and pick them up every day. I get to stop by a friend's house for coffee in the morning, hit Wal-Mart at 8:30 when the parking lot is still empty, get yardwork done while it's still relatively cool outside. There are so many more blessings that God has poured out on me; not the least of which is still having both my parents living on the same road as me, two sisters in town that I talk with almost daily, many close friends who love and encourage me, and Alleluia, the Community that the Lord has loved me enough to allow me to be a part of.
Why shouldn't my heart be filled to overflowing? He loves me the most, as my Deanna would say. He loves me in little and big ways. He cares about the small things, like what color I paint the den, and makes His protecting hand clearly visible in large issues, such as my health. He is a great and might God, but not too big to notice even the small things that lay heavy on our hearts.
And isn't that truly what unconditional love is about? To love someone enough that you're concerned even about the seemingly insignificant things that affect them.
God has given me so much, but the greatest miracle, and the one for which I'm the MOST thankful, is that he's shown me HIS unconditional love through husband and children. He really is enough, but it took marriage and a family for me to see that HIS love is the greatest I will ever experience and meets my deepest needs.
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God, my Father!!!
Friday, April 08, 2011
Batter Up!!!
Daelyn had his firth baseball practice last night. He plays with the Recreation Department. We received a call from his coach the previous night telling us that they will have practice DAILY for the next two weeks. Apparently, they're a championship team and he wants to whip these boys into shape early.
Daelyn was thrilled. So happy, in fact, that he begged out of soccer yesterday. All he can think about is baseball. All I can think about is that we have two other children, a ton of other activities, and his brother is also playing baseball with the Rec Department at a different field a 20-min. drive away.
After the practice last night, as Don and I were preparing for bed, I commented that the thought of these daily practices is a little overwhelming.
"You don't actually have to go to every practice, Honey," he said. The very words sent chills up and down my spine.
Now, I've gotten a lot of freedom from thinking I need to be at school sporting events. The children are surrounded by friends, adults they love and trust, and coaches that know them well and are committed to our family. If I can't make a school game, there's always another parent that can take my child and/or pick them up. I NEVER stay at school sports practices; drop 'em off, try and arrange carpooling for pick-ups. If the carpools can't be arranged, I know the coach will stay with them until I arrive to spirit them home again. But THIS??? THIS is totally different. I don't know these coaches. I don't know ANY of the parents. He's only 9 years old and there's no phone anywhere nearby. My blood runs cold just thinking that the practice may end early for whatever reason and my son has no way to contact me.
No, I will not be "dropping him off" at practice while I do other things EVERY DADGUM NIGHT OF THE WEEK FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS.
We'll just have to figure it out. Maybe his sister can stay with him if I have to run his brother to his practice and I can leave my cellphone with her. Although, if SHE has my cell, then I have nothing to receive a call on.
Not a great situation any way you cut it. So, while Daelyn's stoked and Don's nonchalant, I'm worried. I'm just not sure how I'm going to swing all of this. I've decided I'm going to do what I can and, if he misses a practice or two, baseball IS NOT the sum total of our life. Actually, it's a very small part.
That's what I keep telling myself.
Daelyn was thrilled. So happy, in fact, that he begged out of soccer yesterday. All he can think about is baseball. All I can think about is that we have two other children, a ton of other activities, and his brother is also playing baseball with the Rec Department at a different field a 20-min. drive away.
After the practice last night, as Don and I were preparing for bed, I commented that the thought of these daily practices is a little overwhelming.
"You don't actually have to go to every practice, Honey," he said. The very words sent chills up and down my spine.
Now, I've gotten a lot of freedom from thinking I need to be at school sporting events. The children are surrounded by friends, adults they love and trust, and coaches that know them well and are committed to our family. If I can't make a school game, there's always another parent that can take my child and/or pick them up. I NEVER stay at school sports practices; drop 'em off, try and arrange carpooling for pick-ups. If the carpools can't be arranged, I know the coach will stay with them until I arrive to spirit them home again. But THIS??? THIS is totally different. I don't know these coaches. I don't know ANY of the parents. He's only 9 years old and there's no phone anywhere nearby. My blood runs cold just thinking that the practice may end early for whatever reason and my son has no way to contact me.
No, I will not be "dropping him off" at practice while I do other things EVERY DADGUM NIGHT OF THE WEEK FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS.
We'll just have to figure it out. Maybe his sister can stay with him if I have to run his brother to his practice and I can leave my cellphone with her. Although, if SHE has my cell, then I have nothing to receive a call on.
Not a great situation any way you cut it. So, while Daelyn's stoked and Don's nonchalant, I'm worried. I'm just not sure how I'm going to swing all of this. I've decided I'm going to do what I can and, if he misses a practice or two, baseball IS NOT the sum total of our life. Actually, it's a very small part.
That's what I keep telling myself.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Snickering Evil
This summer, while we were in Hawaii, I received a call from the Elementary Principal. The fourth grade teacher had been diagnosed with cancer, which I was aware of. At first, it seemed that it was really not a big issue but, during the summer, the picture changed a little for her and her doctors wanted her to start chemo. She needed to go to half-time at school and they were looking for someone to teach the other half-day in the 4th grade.
Don and I talked about it. I was inclined for volunteer for a couple of months to give them a little wiggle-room in finding someone for the rest of the year, but Don reminded me that I was going to have knee surgery, which hadn't yet been scheduled, and I couldn't make a commitment to anything with that hanging over my head.
The Principal was able to find someone to teach in the afternoons but, the Friday before school started, the regular teacher had her first chemo treatment and had a pretty rough time. The doctors told her it would just get worse with subsequent treatments.
The first day of school was pretty tough and she had to leave the Opening Assembly to go back to her classroom and rest. After Assembly, I headed for the Elementary Wing to see if I could help. She was in her classroom, so I bopped in and asked if she needed me to sub for her. She gladly accepted.
A very long story to get to a short truth: I fell in love with the 2010-2011 4th Grade Class. I ended up subbing for them that whole first week and a day or two of the next week, until they worked out a second 1/2 day teacher to replace their regular one who really needed to take the year off. They are an absolute delight. There are some children that are a challenge, but I love each and every one of them; they have become MY class.
Several weeks ago, I got a message on the answering machine from their afternoon teacher. It went something like this:
"Patti, I know you're having some problems and you may not be up to this; I even hesitated to call you, but these kids just LOVE you. I need a substitute. If you can't do it, please feel free to say 'no', but I just wanted to give you a call and see. They love you so much."
I called her back and reassured her that she should ALWAYS call me first when it comes to the 4th grade. I committed to two days of subbing in the afternoon two weeks ago.
The second day was their Play Practice day. Every year, the 4th grade students perform a Shakespearean play. The play varies from year to year. This year's choice was "Much Ado About Nothing". The teacher left a script and notes on what they should work on and I had such fun with them. We practiced speaking slowly, loudly, and distinctly; we worked on entrances and exits; we spent some time on body movement and expression. It was a dream for an English major that fell in love with Shakespeare in elementary school herself.
Their performance was last Friday. I got a call that morning from the mother of one of the students to remind me, not that I needed a reminder. I was picking up hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts for Daelyn's class for his birthday surprise, so I picked up an extre 2 1/2 dozen for the 4th grade for their Cast Party.
They were superb. I've never seen the audience so engaged at a 4th grade play. We clapped everytime the actors left the stage. We laughed readily and easily, and very often. The students seemed to be naturals, pausing until clapping and laughter subsided and playing to the crowd. They obviously enjoyed themselves immensely, and the parents/aunts/cousins/siblings . . . LOVED it.
The comedic characters in the play were the head of the Watch, Dogberry, and his assistant, Verges. For these two parts, the teacher chose the quietest, shyest of the students. They found a voice they've never had before and were amazing. In the play, they are cautioned by the Governor to watch for "evil, sneaking about". Dogberry, who gets little right and is very confused, makes a strong case for why "evil snickers" and the play on words continues throughout the length of the performance.
We've adopted a new term around our house: snickering evil. Anytime something looks questionable, it's "snickering evil". That term is probably used daily by one of the members of the Doughty family. This morning, Deanna commented on the snickering evil of something or other.
I love that we have a family culture; that we have phrases that we use and all understand, that we have jokes that only make sense to us and no one else would really "get" them, that our shared experiences have created a oneness that's obvious in our humor and the way we talk. And, now, we have snickering evil to add to our repertoire of Doughty Family culture.
Thank you, 4th Grade, and I look forward to subbing for you this afternoon.
Don and I talked about it. I was inclined for volunteer for a couple of months to give them a little wiggle-room in finding someone for the rest of the year, but Don reminded me that I was going to have knee surgery, which hadn't yet been scheduled, and I couldn't make a commitment to anything with that hanging over my head.
The Principal was able to find someone to teach in the afternoons but, the Friday before school started, the regular teacher had her first chemo treatment and had a pretty rough time. The doctors told her it would just get worse with subsequent treatments.
The first day of school was pretty tough and she had to leave the Opening Assembly to go back to her classroom and rest. After Assembly, I headed for the Elementary Wing to see if I could help. She was in her classroom, so I bopped in and asked if she needed me to sub for her. She gladly accepted.
A very long story to get to a short truth: I fell in love with the 2010-2011 4th Grade Class. I ended up subbing for them that whole first week and a day or two of the next week, until they worked out a second 1/2 day teacher to replace their regular one who really needed to take the year off. They are an absolute delight. There are some children that are a challenge, but I love each and every one of them; they have become MY class.
Several weeks ago, I got a message on the answering machine from their afternoon teacher. It went something like this:
"Patti, I know you're having some problems and you may not be up to this; I even hesitated to call you, but these kids just LOVE you. I need a substitute. If you can't do it, please feel free to say 'no', but I just wanted to give you a call and see. They love you so much."
I called her back and reassured her that she should ALWAYS call me first when it comes to the 4th grade. I committed to two days of subbing in the afternoon two weeks ago.
The second day was their Play Practice day. Every year, the 4th grade students perform a Shakespearean play. The play varies from year to year. This year's choice was "Much Ado About Nothing". The teacher left a script and notes on what they should work on and I had such fun with them. We practiced speaking slowly, loudly, and distinctly; we worked on entrances and exits; we spent some time on body movement and expression. It was a dream for an English major that fell in love with Shakespeare in elementary school herself.
Their performance was last Friday. I got a call that morning from the mother of one of the students to remind me, not that I needed a reminder. I was picking up hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts for Daelyn's class for his birthday surprise, so I picked up an extre 2 1/2 dozen for the 4th grade for their Cast Party.
They were superb. I've never seen the audience so engaged at a 4th grade play. We clapped everytime the actors left the stage. We laughed readily and easily, and very often. The students seemed to be naturals, pausing until clapping and laughter subsided and playing to the crowd. They obviously enjoyed themselves immensely, and the parents/aunts/cousins/siblings . . . LOVED it.
The comedic characters in the play were the head of the Watch, Dogberry, and his assistant, Verges. For these two parts, the teacher chose the quietest, shyest of the students. They found a voice they've never had before and were amazing. In the play, they are cautioned by the Governor to watch for "evil, sneaking about". Dogberry, who gets little right and is very confused, makes a strong case for why "evil snickers" and the play on words continues throughout the length of the performance.
We've adopted a new term around our house: snickering evil. Anytime something looks questionable, it's "snickering evil". That term is probably used daily by one of the members of the Doughty family. This morning, Deanna commented on the snickering evil of something or other.
I love that we have a family culture; that we have phrases that we use and all understand, that we have jokes that only make sense to us and no one else would really "get" them, that our shared experiences have created a oneness that's obvious in our humor and the way we talk. And, now, we have snickering evil to add to our repertoire of Doughty Family culture.
Thank you, 4th Grade, and I look forward to subbing for you this afternoon.
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Tongue Twister
On the way to Dane's baseball practice last night (which turned out to not really be a practice), we were stopped at a light. To our right was a large drugstore, an Eckerd or Walgreens, or something or other. What struck me was a BLUE BOX sitting in front of it with the words "Blockbuster" emblazoned across it.
The children noticed it first and we all had a good laugh.
"I guess Blockbuster is trying to compete with Red Box," I commented, slurring my words hopelessly. But that gave me an idea.
"Hey, guys, bet you can't say 'Blockbuster Blue Box' five times!"
I couldn't even successfully do it twice. The second time, it always came out 'Blockbuster Blue Blox'.
The children tried, repeatedly (and I DO mean repeatedly; it kept them occupied for about 10 solid minutes). Dane finally succeeded, after many attempts, to do it 3 times in a row. Neither Deanna nor I had any success, and the original challenge of 5 times, we decided, was an impossibility.
You try it. Say "Blockbuster Blue Box' 3 times fast and see what a mess you end up with.
Just a normal Monday afternoon on the road with the Doughty's.
The children noticed it first and we all had a good laugh.
"I guess Blockbuster is trying to compete with Red Box," I commented, slurring my words hopelessly. But that gave me an idea.
"Hey, guys, bet you can't say 'Blockbuster Blue Box' five times!"
I couldn't even successfully do it twice. The second time, it always came out 'Blockbuster Blue Blox'.
The children tried, repeatedly (and I DO mean repeatedly; it kept them occupied for about 10 solid minutes). Dane finally succeeded, after many attempts, to do it 3 times in a row. Neither Deanna nor I had any success, and the original challenge of 5 times, we decided, was an impossibility.
You try it. Say "Blockbuster Blue Box' 3 times fast and see what a mess you end up with.
Just a normal Monday afternoon on the road with the Doughty's.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
More rain than I can take
It's been raining for days. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because we normally have drought conditions by June and, maybe this year, we'll miss the bullet. But it's so dark and drab outside and everything's muddy. Add to that Daelyn's baseball try-outs, which have already been rescheduled from Monday night til tonight and Dane's baseball practices tomorrow night and Saturday, and I'm spending way too much time calling around to find out if things are canceled.
About ten days ago, we had rain one evening. I could have sworn that I saw the plants growing the next day. They had gotten so much bigger just from one good rain that I can't wait to see what Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday night, and Wednesday rain will do for them.
I don't have my garden in yet, which is a travesty, especially with all this great natural watering. But things are hectic around here, as usual, and on the days I've had time, it's been raining. I'll have to get my work done in the house this week so I can spend some concerted time and energy on the gardens on Saturday.
Daelyn's birthday is Friday, and there are lots of preparations to be made, mostly outside, which can't be done. But, if I survive, I should have Saturday afternoon to work on gardening.
Our dryer went out over a week ago. I honestly don't know what people did before modern conveniences. Don put a clothes line across the living room for me so I can dry clothes, but EVERYTHING has to be ironed. I mean everything. The elementary school boys uniform consists of khaki pants and white polo shirts. In 6 years of elementary school for Dane and 4 so far for Daelyn, I've never once ironed a polo shirt - until this week, and I've ironed every single one in the last several days.
I've just left the ironing board up in the den. I bought the second set of parts for the dryer yesterday in the hopes Don would put it back together last night, since I have to wash P.E. uniforms. As I was crawling into bed, I asked the "dreaded" question: "Can I use it?" The answer was not affirmative.
I didn't quite understand what he has yet to do, but he said something about having to move the washing machine back out (I keep pushing it back in place so I can use it) so he can get behind the dryer to put it back together. It looks put together; I guess that might just be the front.
So, I suppose I'll have to do one more load of Chinese laundry before we again have a dryer. I've tried very hard to not complain; I figure if Don is spending every evening working on it, taking up his precious time to try and repair the one we have, then it must be important to him that we not buy a new one. The least I can do is try and have a good attitude.
I'm going to put on my smile and go do a much-needed load of wash, then plug the iron back in. More school pants, underwear, T-shirts, etc. need to be touched up before marching out the door on children.
Fun, fun, fun. I just LOVE these rainy days.
About ten days ago, we had rain one evening. I could have sworn that I saw the plants growing the next day. They had gotten so much bigger just from one good rain that I can't wait to see what Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday night, and Wednesday rain will do for them.
I don't have my garden in yet, which is a travesty, especially with all this great natural watering. But things are hectic around here, as usual, and on the days I've had time, it's been raining. I'll have to get my work done in the house this week so I can spend some concerted time and energy on the gardens on Saturday.
Daelyn's birthday is Friday, and there are lots of preparations to be made, mostly outside, which can't be done. But, if I survive, I should have Saturday afternoon to work on gardening.
Our dryer went out over a week ago. I honestly don't know what people did before modern conveniences. Don put a clothes line across the living room for me so I can dry clothes, but EVERYTHING has to be ironed. I mean everything. The elementary school boys uniform consists of khaki pants and white polo shirts. In 6 years of elementary school for Dane and 4 so far for Daelyn, I've never once ironed a polo shirt - until this week, and I've ironed every single one in the last several days.
I've just left the ironing board up in the den. I bought the second set of parts for the dryer yesterday in the hopes Don would put it back together last night, since I have to wash P.E. uniforms. As I was crawling into bed, I asked the "dreaded" question: "Can I use it?" The answer was not affirmative.
I didn't quite understand what he has yet to do, but he said something about having to move the washing machine back out (I keep pushing it back in place so I can use it) so he can get behind the dryer to put it back together. It looks put together; I guess that might just be the front.
So, I suppose I'll have to do one more load of Chinese laundry before we again have a dryer. I've tried very hard to not complain; I figure if Don is spending every evening working on it, taking up his precious time to try and repair the one we have, then it must be important to him that we not buy a new one. The least I can do is try and have a good attitude.
I'm going to put on my smile and go do a much-needed load of wash, then plug the iron back in. More school pants, underwear, T-shirts, etc. need to be touched up before marching out the door on children.
Fun, fun, fun. I just LOVE these rainy days.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Gratefulness for Our School
I haven't posted in a very long time (nearly a year), but something struck me so strongly this morning that I wanted to write about it.
In a nutshell, I'm thankful for our school.
Now, the long version.
Yesterday morning, when I went to check on the children, Dane was still in bed, sound asleep, despite the noise all over the house. He was just exhausted. He's dealing with that "coughing thing" again; the non-stop wheezing and coughing that happens to him when his asthma gets exacerbated by a respiratory thing. He's coughing so much, he's unable to sleep well and is just slap worn out.
I decided to let him sleep and take him into school late when he woke up naturally. By the time he woke up and went through his morning coughing spell, I decided he needed MORE sleep and that his coughing would likely be disruptive at school, so I kept him home. He took a nice nap, which is almost unheard-of for him, and spent most of the day laying around, resting and coughing, complaining of his chest hurting.
When I dropped the children off at school this morning, one of his teachers (that he has for 2 classes and is the Dean of Girls and the Mama of the Middle School) was in the parking lot, so I stopped to talk with her. I told her what he's dealing with and that you should feel free to call me to pick him up if his coughing got too bad. As I drove away, it HIT me like a ton of bricks.
If we didn't have our school, my son might be in Public school. Now, I'm not dis-ing Public school. My tax dollars help pay for them. But, in Georgia, you can't keep a child home from school without a doctor's excuse. Gone are the days of parental decision-making. The state has taken that right away. Now, only doctors can decide if a student needs to stay home from school. I understand that so many parents have abdicated that right and allowed their children to be truant without good reason, that the state felt it must step in. But I could not keep Dane home to sleep and cough without disrupting class without dragging him into a doctor's office, paying a co-pay, and hoping that the doctor agreed with me. That is, if he were in Public school.
Suddenly, I had an image in my mind of the Public school I went to for a couple of years. In the middle of the picture was my sweet Dane. It, quite literally, sent chills up and down my spine. My children have teachers that are a part of their daily lives. When the kids have questions, we can call their teachers at home for help. When the dog ate their Science Fair project this year, I e-mailed their Science teacher, who was in Utah at the time, and he promptly responded, explaining that his cell phone coverage was spotty but he could get his e-mail, and asking me to please e-mail him ALL the details so he could advise us. IN UTAH!! ON VACATION!! His response saved the day and the project.
And it's not just that the teachers are "available". They really care about the children. They talk with me about issues of concern, things they see that I might not. They discuss progress and how best to meet the needs of each child. They spoil when my kids need it, Aunt or Uncle when my children need that, discipline when that's needed, but, mostly, they love, love, love.
There's so much more I could say. When we keep the children home, all we really need to do is call the school office and let the secretary know we've kept them, so all the children are accounted for. I even forget that most of the time. The Middle School teachers have a system where they write up all the work missed for absent students, then give it to a neighbor or sibling. In Elementary, the teacher chooses another student to pull together the absent child's work. Dane sent a note via Deanna to one of his friends, listing the specific things he needed sent home from his locker and asking his friend to give it to Deanna. When it arrived home in a plastic bag, there was a theater-size box of candy in it, as well. We're not sure if it was from the teacher of the student that Dane sent the note to. In any case, he was missed and his absence was noticed.
All this might sound, I don't know, surfacy or something. But this is nothing but deep. I'm so deeply grateful. I remember when we started our school. I was very excited and ready to do what I could to help. But the picture really changes when your own children are school age. I can't even imagine what it would be like without our school and the love of the teachers and staff that interact daily with my precious babies.
I'm really glad I won't ever have to experience having children in Public school. I'm very thankful for the sacrifices that were made by so many to start our school and to continue to keep it going, despite huge challenges.
We're blessed in so many ways that we take many for granted. Today I realized one of those ways that I don't often ponder.
In a nutshell, I'm thankful for our school.
Now, the long version.
Yesterday morning, when I went to check on the children, Dane was still in bed, sound asleep, despite the noise all over the house. He was just exhausted. He's dealing with that "coughing thing" again; the non-stop wheezing and coughing that happens to him when his asthma gets exacerbated by a respiratory thing. He's coughing so much, he's unable to sleep well and is just slap worn out.
I decided to let him sleep and take him into school late when he woke up naturally. By the time he woke up and went through his morning coughing spell, I decided he needed MORE sleep and that his coughing would likely be disruptive at school, so I kept him home. He took a nice nap, which is almost unheard-of for him, and spent most of the day laying around, resting and coughing, complaining of his chest hurting.
When I dropped the children off at school this morning, one of his teachers (that he has for 2 classes and is the Dean of Girls and the Mama of the Middle School) was in the parking lot, so I stopped to talk with her. I told her what he's dealing with and that you should feel free to call me to pick him up if his coughing got too bad. As I drove away, it HIT me like a ton of bricks.
If we didn't have our school, my son might be in Public school. Now, I'm not dis-ing Public school. My tax dollars help pay for them. But, in Georgia, you can't keep a child home from school without a doctor's excuse. Gone are the days of parental decision-making. The state has taken that right away. Now, only doctors can decide if a student needs to stay home from school. I understand that so many parents have abdicated that right and allowed their children to be truant without good reason, that the state felt it must step in. But I could not keep Dane home to sleep and cough without disrupting class without dragging him into a doctor's office, paying a co-pay, and hoping that the doctor agreed with me. That is, if he were in Public school.
Suddenly, I had an image in my mind of the Public school I went to for a couple of years. In the middle of the picture was my sweet Dane. It, quite literally, sent chills up and down my spine. My children have teachers that are a part of their daily lives. When the kids have questions, we can call their teachers at home for help. When the dog ate their Science Fair project this year, I e-mailed their Science teacher, who was in Utah at the time, and he promptly responded, explaining that his cell phone coverage was spotty but he could get his e-mail, and asking me to please e-mail him ALL the details so he could advise us. IN UTAH!! ON VACATION!! His response saved the day and the project.
And it's not just that the teachers are "available". They really care about the children. They talk with me about issues of concern, things they see that I might not. They discuss progress and how best to meet the needs of each child. They spoil when my kids need it, Aunt or Uncle when my children need that, discipline when that's needed, but, mostly, they love, love, love.
There's so much more I could say. When we keep the children home, all we really need to do is call the school office and let the secretary know we've kept them, so all the children are accounted for. I even forget that most of the time. The Middle School teachers have a system where they write up all the work missed for absent students, then give it to a neighbor or sibling. In Elementary, the teacher chooses another student to pull together the absent child's work. Dane sent a note via Deanna to one of his friends, listing the specific things he needed sent home from his locker and asking his friend to give it to Deanna. When it arrived home in a plastic bag, there was a theater-size box of candy in it, as well. We're not sure if it was from the teacher of the student that Dane sent the note to. In any case, he was missed and his absence was noticed.
All this might sound, I don't know, surfacy or something. But this is nothing but deep. I'm so deeply grateful. I remember when we started our school. I was very excited and ready to do what I could to help. But the picture really changes when your own children are school age. I can't even imagine what it would be like without our school and the love of the teachers and staff that interact daily with my precious babies.
I'm really glad I won't ever have to experience having children in Public school. I'm very thankful for the sacrifices that were made by so many to start our school and to continue to keep it going, despite huge challenges.
We're blessed in so many ways that we take many for granted. Today I realized one of those ways that I don't often ponder.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
From the Mouths of Babes
Don and Dane were at Scout Camp yesterday. Deanna had gone to Nashville with a friend to sing at a Conference, so it was just me and Daelyn. I asked him if he wanted to go out for a date with me. He jumped at the opportunity and suggested lunch at the Mall, then a visit to Game Stop followed by a stroll through Barnes and Noble.
After a Chick-fil-A lunch and an unbelievably long and painful visit to Game Stop, we headed to the opposite end of the Mall to hit the book store. On the way, we passed by Victoria's Secret.
Daelyn: "Mom, just what IS Victoria's Secret?"
Me, walking faster and subconsciously moving Daelyn to the other side of me: "It's a women's lingerie store that also sells perfume and lotions . . ."
Daelyn: "No! I mean, what's the big secret? It seems to me it's all right OUT there."
After a Chick-fil-A lunch and an unbelievably long and painful visit to Game Stop, we headed to the opposite end of the Mall to hit the book store. On the way, we passed by Victoria's Secret.
Daelyn: "Mom, just what IS Victoria's Secret?"
Me, walking faster and subconsciously moving Daelyn to the other side of me: "It's a women's lingerie store that also sells perfume and lotions . . ."
Daelyn: "No! I mean, what's the big secret? It seems to me it's all right OUT there."
Monday, July 12, 2010
Just can't see it
There was a news story on TV tonight about a family that's so large they have a Family Reunion once a month.
Just how do you do that?
"Okay, all of Sally Sue's family will gather in January, Polly Wolly's in February, Mike and Mark's in March . . ."
Doesn't that kind of defeat the whole point of Family Reunions?
Just how do you do that?
"Okay, all of Sally Sue's family will gather in January, Polly Wolly's in February, Mike and Mark's in March . . ."
Doesn't that kind of defeat the whole point of Family Reunions?
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