One child, as he/she walks towards the bench at the kitchen table where he/she normally sits to sibling, who is laying down across the entire bench:
"You have to move. You're laying right where I put my head!"
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Better All the Time
I'm actually going to Post twice in the same day!!
Dane is playing basketball on the Middle School "B" Team. He loves it. However, my son is easy-going and lopes down the court, in no hurry to beat the ball to the opposing team's basket, nor his own. He prefers to not guard; he doesn't like being that aggressive with people he doesn't even know. Taking out his aggressions on his younger brother is far more appropriate.
He has a wonderful coach, Jimmy Dresser, the father of one of his classmates. Jimmy is gentle and long-suffering. He's kind and a great teacher and knows his stuff. We were delighted to hear he'd be coaching Dane's team this year. Jimmy, in his gentle way, has worked with Dane to get him to actually RUN downcourt and GUARD the opposition.
After every game, Dane wants to talk about it. We'll get in the van and he'll say,
"Okay, Mom, I want to talk about the game!!"
He'll ask what I thought about his playing and talk about specific plays. Game after game, I find myself saying,
"That's the best game you've ever played, Son."
And it's true. He improves noticeably with every single game.
In their last game, Dane fouled out. As he walked off the Court, his shoulders were slumped and his head was down, but he had a little smile on his face. In the car going home, I said,
"I know how you felt, Son, and you didn't need to be embarrassed."
"How could you have possibly known how I felt, Mama. So, tell me. How DID I feel?"
"Well, you were embarrassed and a little ashamed, but you thought that if you put that plastered-on smile on your face, your friends would think fouling out didn't matter to you and they'd still think you were cool."
"That's just scary, Mom. How can you know what I was thinking?!" He just doesn't get this whole Mom-thing.
Later, Don talked with his coach, Jimmy. He came home and told Dane,
"Uncle Jimmy was really pleased with how you played. He said it was great that you fouled out, because that meant you were playing hard and that you're learning to guard. He said for you not to worry. Fouling out just means you're in the game, playing." I think this consoled Dane a little.
Last night, they played a team from a school whose Principal is the younger brother of our Middle School Principal. He's a graduate of our school. On this team is a boy who grew up with our boys and played alongside them for years. Now, he's attending another private school and is "the opponent". Dane was really nervous going into the game and didn't think his team would play well.
The score was neck-in-neck for most of the game. We'd get a basket, then they'd get one. They'd get a basket, then we'd get one. They'd foul us and we'd get a free shot. Then they'd get a basket. And on it went. In the final quarter, they began to pull away from us a little. Then they built some momentum and were 6 points ahead with only one minute to go in the game. Dane had a couple of fouls against him, but was guarding more carefully and didn't foul out. With only 30 seconds left in the game, Dane throw a ball from a little short of the half-court line and MADE A 3-POINTER!! We went crazy!! Unfortunately, we weren't able to make up the last 3 points and we lost 26 - 23 (I think - something like that, anyway).
Coming home in the van, I told Dane,
"That was the best game you've ever played. You're learning to guard correctly. You're getting more aggressive. You're RUNNING down court and trying to steal the ball. You got a ton of rebounds. And that 3-pointer, Son. It was GREAT!!!"
Dane didn't argue this time. Nor did he mention that I always tell him it was the best game he's ever played.
In my opinion, this is the whole point of middle school sports. Teach the boys the basics. Train them to work as a team - no ball hogs allowed. Make sure they know how to guard correctly and proper techniques for shooting. Practice, practice, practice. Dane's turning into a real decent little basketball player.
Can you tell I'm proud?
Dane is playing basketball on the Middle School "B" Team. He loves it. However, my son is easy-going and lopes down the court, in no hurry to beat the ball to the opposing team's basket, nor his own. He prefers to not guard; he doesn't like being that aggressive with people he doesn't even know. Taking out his aggressions on his younger brother is far more appropriate.
He has a wonderful coach, Jimmy Dresser, the father of one of his classmates. Jimmy is gentle and long-suffering. He's kind and a great teacher and knows his stuff. We were delighted to hear he'd be coaching Dane's team this year. Jimmy, in his gentle way, has worked with Dane to get him to actually RUN downcourt and GUARD the opposition.
After every game, Dane wants to talk about it. We'll get in the van and he'll say,
"Okay, Mom, I want to talk about the game!!"
He'll ask what I thought about his playing and talk about specific plays. Game after game, I find myself saying,
"That's the best game you've ever played, Son."
And it's true. He improves noticeably with every single game.
In their last game, Dane fouled out. As he walked off the Court, his shoulders were slumped and his head was down, but he had a little smile on his face. In the car going home, I said,
"I know how you felt, Son, and you didn't need to be embarrassed."
"How could you have possibly known how I felt, Mama. So, tell me. How DID I feel?"
"Well, you were embarrassed and a little ashamed, but you thought that if you put that plastered-on smile on your face, your friends would think fouling out didn't matter to you and they'd still think you were cool."
"That's just scary, Mom. How can you know what I was thinking?!" He just doesn't get this whole Mom-thing.
Later, Don talked with his coach, Jimmy. He came home and told Dane,
"Uncle Jimmy was really pleased with how you played. He said it was great that you fouled out, because that meant you were playing hard and that you're learning to guard. He said for you not to worry. Fouling out just means you're in the game, playing." I think this consoled Dane a little.
Last night, they played a team from a school whose Principal is the younger brother of our Middle School Principal. He's a graduate of our school. On this team is a boy who grew up with our boys and played alongside them for years. Now, he's attending another private school and is "the opponent". Dane was really nervous going into the game and didn't think his team would play well.
The score was neck-in-neck for most of the game. We'd get a basket, then they'd get one. They'd get a basket, then we'd get one. They'd foul us and we'd get a free shot. Then they'd get a basket. And on it went. In the final quarter, they began to pull away from us a little. Then they built some momentum and were 6 points ahead with only one minute to go in the game. Dane had a couple of fouls against him, but was guarding more carefully and didn't foul out. With only 30 seconds left in the game, Dane throw a ball from a little short of the half-court line and MADE A 3-POINTER!! We went crazy!! Unfortunately, we weren't able to make up the last 3 points and we lost 26 - 23 (I think - something like that, anyway).
Coming home in the van, I told Dane,
"That was the best game you've ever played. You're learning to guard correctly. You're getting more aggressive. You're RUNNING down court and trying to steal the ball. You got a ton of rebounds. And that 3-pointer, Son. It was GREAT!!!"
Dane didn't argue this time. Nor did he mention that I always tell him it was the best game he's ever played.
In my opinion, this is the whole point of middle school sports. Teach the boys the basics. Train them to work as a team - no ball hogs allowed. Make sure they know how to guard correctly and proper techniques for shooting. Practice, practice, practice. Dane's turning into a real decent little basketball player.
Can you tell I'm proud?
Cry-Baby, Cry-Baby
A dear friend and neighbor of ours died early in the morning on New Year's Day. We attended his Prayer Service and Funeral last week. Scheduling was a bit of a challenge, though. The night of his Prayer Service, we were expecting dinner guests - two young, single men from Australia that are here visiting for a couple of weeks. Our plan was to eat at 5:30 to give us ample time to arrive at the Service by 7:00, but . . . "the best laid plans. . . "
We finally found a parking spot in the packed lot around 7:30 and made our way into the Narthex of the church. It was obvious from the parking lot that there was a full house, but we didn't realize just how full until we saw people standing along all of the walls inside the church. After greeting the people in the Narthex and looking around for a few minutes, I decided to take the children into the Cry Room. At this particular church, the Cry Room is in a small chapel to the side of the main worship area and one whole wall is windows, looking into the larger church. Knowing that they had a speaker in there, and seeing very few people using it, we headed into the Cry Room.
It didn't take long to realize that the speaker just wasn't turned up high enough to hear most of what was being said. That was alright with me during the Rosary, since we're not Catholic and you don't have to hear the prayers to know what's being said, but when it was time for the family members to share about the Deceased, I wanted to hear better.
I had noticed several people walking from the Cry Room into another, smaller room through a door at the end. I asked one of the women who was coming back into the Cry Room if you could hear better from there. She smiled and nodded. I hopped up and headed in.
Turns out, this room was a small Confessional, but had a door leading into the church where you could stand and hear perfectly. I stood in the doorway of the Confessional for a few minutes. Then, quite unexpectedly, there was a break in the Sharings and a number of people rose to leave. The Service had gone on for several hours and many people just had to get home. I took full advantage of the break and called to the kids to join me, then took off for a pew that had just been emptied out. Daelyn slid in next to me.
A few minutes later, well into the remainder of the family sharings, Daelyn looked down at his wrist.
"Mom," he hissed at me loudly, "my Phiton bracelet is missing!!"
Oh, my goodness. His Phiton bracelet!! He and his brother have pestered me for over a year for Phiton necklaces, sports things that the athletes wear. I finally broke down and bought a nice one for Dane at the Christian bookstore with John 3:16 printed on it and a bracelet for Daelyn and they got them for Christmas. Now, here it was, only a couple of weeks later and Daelyn had already lost his!! I was almost as disturbed as he was.
"Son!!!" I hissed back. "Do you have any idea where it might be?"
"Well, it might have fallen off my wrist in the Cry-Baby Room."
I snickered. The funny thing is that Daelyn never quite realizes he says things wrong but, often, his terms are very appropriate.
We finally found a parking spot in the packed lot around 7:30 and made our way into the Narthex of the church. It was obvious from the parking lot that there was a full house, but we didn't realize just how full until we saw people standing along all of the walls inside the church. After greeting the people in the Narthex and looking around for a few minutes, I decided to take the children into the Cry Room. At this particular church, the Cry Room is in a small chapel to the side of the main worship area and one whole wall is windows, looking into the larger church. Knowing that they had a speaker in there, and seeing very few people using it, we headed into the Cry Room.
It didn't take long to realize that the speaker just wasn't turned up high enough to hear most of what was being said. That was alright with me during the Rosary, since we're not Catholic and you don't have to hear the prayers to know what's being said, but when it was time for the family members to share about the Deceased, I wanted to hear better.
I had noticed several people walking from the Cry Room into another, smaller room through a door at the end. I asked one of the women who was coming back into the Cry Room if you could hear better from there. She smiled and nodded. I hopped up and headed in.
Turns out, this room was a small Confessional, but had a door leading into the church where you could stand and hear perfectly. I stood in the doorway of the Confessional for a few minutes. Then, quite unexpectedly, there was a break in the Sharings and a number of people rose to leave. The Service had gone on for several hours and many people just had to get home. I took full advantage of the break and called to the kids to join me, then took off for a pew that had just been emptied out. Daelyn slid in next to me.
A few minutes later, well into the remainder of the family sharings, Daelyn looked down at his wrist.
"Mom," he hissed at me loudly, "my Phiton bracelet is missing!!"
Oh, my goodness. His Phiton bracelet!! He and his brother have pestered me for over a year for Phiton necklaces, sports things that the athletes wear. I finally broke down and bought a nice one for Dane at the Christian bookstore with John 3:16 printed on it and a bracelet for Daelyn and they got them for Christmas. Now, here it was, only a couple of weeks later and Daelyn had already lost his!! I was almost as disturbed as he was.
"Son!!!" I hissed back. "Do you have any idea where it might be?"
"Well, it might have fallen off my wrist in the Cry-Baby Room."
I snickered. The funny thing is that Daelyn never quite realizes he says things wrong but, often, his terms are very appropriate.
Monday, January 09, 2012
It's All In Your Perspective
Don was enlisted by the Director of the Handbell Choir at our church to play with them for the Christmas Eve Service. We have 3 services on Christmas Eve; the 4 p.m. is quiet and traditional (a service perfect for older Episcopalians), 5:30 is the Family Service which is absolute bedlam and involves funny hats and a Homily around the Creche with all the children sitting around on the floor; but the 11 p.m. service is beautiful, solemn, and musical. We usually hire several musicians to play the trumpet, the flute, the bass, etc., to accompany the Choir, which begins the Pre-Mass music at 10:30. The Handbell Choir also plays a number of pieces before and during the Service.
When Don asked me whether or not he should commit to helping, I encouraged him. He played handbells for years, beginning when he still lived at home. He also directed our Handbell Choir for several years. He's very talented and I thought he would enjoy getting his "hand" back in it. Besides, I told him, the children are all old enough now to go to the Late Service, and I think it would be a neat experience for all of us.
However, we couldn't possibly miss the Family Service at 5:30 and we were assigned to take the Gifts up to the Altar at that Service, so we knew we would be attending both. Our family tradition, started just 6 years ago, is to have Fondue on Christmas Eve after Church for dinner. It's fun, easy, quick, and doesn't require a lot of clean-up. We always use pretty Christmas paper plates that we throw away and the only dishes are the fondue pot and sticks and the bowl from the bread. Since Grandpa Doughty was here with us, I invited my parents to join us for Church and stay for Fondue. They took us up on the offer.
Being Methodist, my parents have Communion infrequently; anywhere from once a month to once a quarter. Some Methodist churches never have Communion, but my father's has always scheduled it periodically, if not so regularly. And, being Methodist, grape juice is used rather than wine. This is a throw-back to the days when Methodists were all tea-tottlers and did not "imbibe".
In the middle of a wild, raucous Church Service, a few minutes of peace and introspection were carved out during Communion. As I walked back to the pew from the altar, quietly pensive and pondering the birth of our Lord, I sat down next to my mother, then kneeled to pray. After a few moments with Jesus, I sat back down. Mom leaned over to me and quietly whispered in my ear,
"That was really good wine they were serving!"
When Don asked me whether or not he should commit to helping, I encouraged him. He played handbells for years, beginning when he still lived at home. He also directed our Handbell Choir for several years. He's very talented and I thought he would enjoy getting his "hand" back in it. Besides, I told him, the children are all old enough now to go to the Late Service, and I think it would be a neat experience for all of us.
However, we couldn't possibly miss the Family Service at 5:30 and we were assigned to take the Gifts up to the Altar at that Service, so we knew we would be attending both. Our family tradition, started just 6 years ago, is to have Fondue on Christmas Eve after Church for dinner. It's fun, easy, quick, and doesn't require a lot of clean-up. We always use pretty Christmas paper plates that we throw away and the only dishes are the fondue pot and sticks and the bowl from the bread. Since Grandpa Doughty was here with us, I invited my parents to join us for Church and stay for Fondue. They took us up on the offer.
Being Methodist, my parents have Communion infrequently; anywhere from once a month to once a quarter. Some Methodist churches never have Communion, but my father's has always scheduled it periodically, if not so regularly. And, being Methodist, grape juice is used rather than wine. This is a throw-back to the days when Methodists were all tea-tottlers and did not "imbibe".
In the middle of a wild, raucous Church Service, a few minutes of peace and introspection were carved out during Communion. As I walked back to the pew from the altar, quietly pensive and pondering the birth of our Lord, I sat down next to my mother, then kneeled to pray. After a few moments with Jesus, I sat back down. Mom leaned over to me and quietly whispered in my ear,
"That was really good wine they were serving!"
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Remnants of the Yard Sale
A couple of Posts ago, I mentioned a book study I'm doing, "A Mother's Rule of Life". Going is very slow. We've discovered that everything gets scheduled on Fridays, interfering with our chosen meeting time; Grandparent's Day at school, days off school unexpectedly, Black Friday, Retreats, etc. We've haven't been able to move ahead any in 3 months.
The upside to spending so much time on the same chapter is REALLY getting to work on that area. I put together my "portfolio", my place to keep all my notes and lists, and have that working very well. I mentioned that I've been tackling cleaning out and getting rid of stuff. That's still true. We had a yard sale in October (or was it September) and Don brought down from the attic everything we had stored that we no longer need. I was amazed how many children's clothes we still had. Anyway, I was determined to not put anything back in the attic, so the furniture, clothes, and other items that hadn't sold in the yard sale have been taking up the whole living room.
I finally contacted a friend who said he could use the changing table and dresser for a Retreat House he's trying to furnish. Then my friend, Kelly, took a day and helped me sort and organize boxes and boxes of stuff. We loaded up her van twice with items for Good Will and she dropped them off for me. Then we made a trip to a Second-Hand store and another trip to Good Will. I was left with a box of small items that I wanted to donate to the Kindergarten class at our school for their Treasure Chest, two boxes that still needed sorting, and a few items I wanted to keep.
Yesterday, we bought our tree and rearranged the furniture in the living room so we could fit our tree comfortably in the corner. I still have one more box to sort, but, other than that, the living room is cleaned out. Nothing is going back into the attic.
It's a good feeling to get rid of things that have cluttered our closets, bedrooms, attic, and lives for years. But there's always more to do. I'm just thankful that I can now enjoy the fireplace and want to move my gift-wrapping stuff into the living room so I can wrap to my heart's content while enjoying the fireplace.
Slow progress, but any progress at all is better than none.
The upside to spending so much time on the same chapter is REALLY getting to work on that area. I put together my "portfolio", my place to keep all my notes and lists, and have that working very well. I mentioned that I've been tackling cleaning out and getting rid of stuff. That's still true. We had a yard sale in October (or was it September) and Don brought down from the attic everything we had stored that we no longer need. I was amazed how many children's clothes we still had. Anyway, I was determined to not put anything back in the attic, so the furniture, clothes, and other items that hadn't sold in the yard sale have been taking up the whole living room.
I finally contacted a friend who said he could use the changing table and dresser for a Retreat House he's trying to furnish. Then my friend, Kelly, took a day and helped me sort and organize boxes and boxes of stuff. We loaded up her van twice with items for Good Will and she dropped them off for me. Then we made a trip to a Second-Hand store and another trip to Good Will. I was left with a box of small items that I wanted to donate to the Kindergarten class at our school for their Treasure Chest, two boxes that still needed sorting, and a few items I wanted to keep.
Yesterday, we bought our tree and rearranged the furniture in the living room so we could fit our tree comfortably in the corner. I still have one more box to sort, but, other than that, the living room is cleaned out. Nothing is going back into the attic.
It's a good feeling to get rid of things that have cluttered our closets, bedrooms, attic, and lives for years. But there's always more to do. I'm just thankful that I can now enjoy the fireplace and want to move my gift-wrapping stuff into the living room so I can wrap to my heart's content while enjoying the fireplace.
Slow progress, but any progress at all is better than none.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Okay, that's a LITTLE odd!
Deanna's taking a class this semester called "Life Skills". It's an updated, unisex version of Home Economics. They did units on Hunting Safety and gardening, including building and planting a box garden. They are now working on sewing.
Their first sewing project is a throw pillow. When it's done, they'll be making pajama pants. They went on a field trip to a fabric store to pick our their material and notions. But, first, they have to hand-stitch a design on their throw pillows.
Each student was asked to submit a scale drawing of their pillow design. This week, they're learning all the different stitches so they can embroider their designs next week. Deanna demonstrated the "lazy daisy", the "running stitch", the "chain stitch", the "satin stitch", and several others to me this evening.
"There's just one problem with this class, though, Mom," she said softly during a quiet moment as I looked over her stitches.
"What's that, Honey?" I asked her.
"It's just not right to hear the boys bragging about how 'beast' their embroidery is."
Their first sewing project is a throw pillow. When it's done, they'll be making pajama pants. They went on a field trip to a fabric store to pick our their material and notions. But, first, they have to hand-stitch a design on their throw pillows.
Each student was asked to submit a scale drawing of their pillow design. This week, they're learning all the different stitches so they can embroider their designs next week. Deanna demonstrated the "lazy daisy", the "running stitch", the "chain stitch", the "satin stitch", and several others to me this evening.
"There's just one problem with this class, though, Mom," she said softly during a quiet moment as I looked over her stitches.
"What's that, Honey?" I asked her.
"It's just not right to hear the boys bragging about how 'beast' their embroidery is."
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Another Stab at Order
I'm on a cleaning binge, which makes my family VERY happy!! I've joined a Women's Book Study Group and we're exploring the book, "A Mother's Rule of Life". The book tackles the complicated subject of bringing order to every aspect of our lives as mothers.
The more I read, the more I'm energized to get organized. This is a perpetual odyssey for me. I feel like I'm on the hunt for The Holy Grail.
I haven't really accomplished huge amounts yet, but the little things that I've been able to tackle have left me with anticipation of still more to come. Yesterday, I cleaned out Daelyn's closet. It began as a simple hunt for empty hangars to use for the clean laundry. But his closet was so disorderly, I decided to neaten it. Well, if you're going to take the time to neaten it, I reasoned, you might as well get rid of the things that don't fit any longer. The really good news about this task, though, is that I bagged up all his ill-fitting clothes, included several bags that Don packed up last year and a bag of shoes that the children had gathered that no longer fitted, and delivered them to a friend's house. She has several young boys and will be able to use some of the clothes. I encouraged her to pass along what she didn't need, but FOUR BAGS are OUT of my house!!! YAY!!
The day before, I tackled Don's side of our bathroom counter. I plan on finished the bathroom today. Before that, I tackled the Den, which now is able to be used once again. If I get any extra time today, I need to begin working on the living room, which still have the refuse from the Yard Sale several weeks ago, untouched.
The key to organizing, for me, is not just to clean, but to get RID of stuff. We accumulate more stuff than you can ever imagine. So the four bags leaving my house was a huge victory to me. A friend of mine has suggested that we go to a Second-Hand store that specializes in children's items to rid my living room of the nicer items that didn't disappear in the Yard Sale, such as the changing table and the crib set. Maybe we can tackle that next week. I hope so.
It feels good to bring order but I can only keep order if I spend some time at home, which seldom happens. This has been a good week; lots of days home to clean. But that's not always the case. The point of "A Mother's Rule of Life" is to arrange your life so that, even if nothing else is accomplished in the home, order still prevails. We'll see how well it works for me. I'm only on Chapter 3.
The more I read, the more I'm energized to get organized. This is a perpetual odyssey for me. I feel like I'm on the hunt for The Holy Grail.
I haven't really accomplished huge amounts yet, but the little things that I've been able to tackle have left me with anticipation of still more to come. Yesterday, I cleaned out Daelyn's closet. It began as a simple hunt for empty hangars to use for the clean laundry. But his closet was so disorderly, I decided to neaten it. Well, if you're going to take the time to neaten it, I reasoned, you might as well get rid of the things that don't fit any longer. The really good news about this task, though, is that I bagged up all his ill-fitting clothes, included several bags that Don packed up last year and a bag of shoes that the children had gathered that no longer fitted, and delivered them to a friend's house. She has several young boys and will be able to use some of the clothes. I encouraged her to pass along what she didn't need, but FOUR BAGS are OUT of my house!!! YAY!!
The day before, I tackled Don's side of our bathroom counter. I plan on finished the bathroom today. Before that, I tackled the Den, which now is able to be used once again. If I get any extra time today, I need to begin working on the living room, which still have the refuse from the Yard Sale several weeks ago, untouched.
The key to organizing, for me, is not just to clean, but to get RID of stuff. We accumulate more stuff than you can ever imagine. So the four bags leaving my house was a huge victory to me. A friend of mine has suggested that we go to a Second-Hand store that specializes in children's items to rid my living room of the nicer items that didn't disappear in the Yard Sale, such as the changing table and the crib set. Maybe we can tackle that next week. I hope so.
It feels good to bring order but I can only keep order if I spend some time at home, which seldom happens. This has been a good week; lots of days home to clean. But that's not always the case. The point of "A Mother's Rule of Life" is to arrange your life so that, even if nothing else is accomplished in the home, order still prevails. We'll see how well it works for me. I'm only on Chapter 3.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
Belated Birthday Blessings
Last Monday was Don's birthday. I wanted to write a Post honoring him, but life got in the way. Then, yesterday, when I sat down to write, I read the beautiful tribute to her mother-in-law that my friend, Kelly, wrote. Pretty hard to compete with that. And eloquent words just don't flow when I think of Don. I decided to take another stab at it today and, maybe, just put my thoughts in plain words, without the eloquence and beauty that some of my other friends seem to be able to pen.
When I first met Don, I was immediately attracted to him. He's a quiet man, but you catch a sense of extreme strength hovering just below the surface. He has a wonderful, gleaming smile and eyes that twinkle when he's kidding or poking fun at someone. His gentleness is one of the first things that is apparent about him. Strength and gentleness - hmm! No wonder I was attracted to him.
On our very first date, I realized that he's a man that's in control. He was confortable, confident, and very, very funny. Don has a fabulous sense of humor, but in a very quiet way. If you're not watching for it, you'll never experience it. One of the things I realized early on in our relationship was that, when passion was gone or we were too old to care about those things, Don would keep life fun for me. His humor and approach to life would linger until death. I love being with him. He makes everyday chores seem like family time at the park. He'll walk by me in the kitchen while I'm doing dishes and deadpan about some crazy thing he just saw outside. He clips articles from magazines and newspapers and leaves them at our places at the table - last week, there was an article in an SRS Newsletter about an alligator they call "Mr. Stumpy". He and his mate have parented approximately 500 young and Don included a picture of Stumpy with one of his hatchlings riding on his back. What makes the story funny is that Deanna's terrified of alligators and Don's determined to break her of her fear. For her 13th birthday, when we honored her at an Assembly at school, Don brought (unbeknownst to me - it was HIS thing with his daughter, not mine) a stuffed alligator with a chicken inside it. He explained that alligators were nothing to be afraid of - they were just chickens wearing alligator suits. He's bought Deanna alligator pencil holders and worked very hard at assuaging her fear through humor.
Which brings me to the next point; Don LOVES his children. I'm not sure I've ever seen a man so in love with his family. He buys Christmas presents for each of the children just from him. He thinks about it for months and comes up with the perfect idea, then goes out alone to buy the presents, wraps them himself, and refuses to even tell me what he bought them. Time after time, it turns out to be the perfect gift, but it's always something that has to do with HIS relationship with them. I buy the presents from "us", he buys the presents from Daddy. Several years ago, he started giving them an end-of-school gift, also. This shocked me. To me, the end of school was gift enough. But Don is so proud of the effort his children put into school and the grades they make that he felt they needed a reward at the end of the school year, so he always buys them something special to begin the summer.
Many years ago, when the children were young, I noticed that Don would come out to the van as we were leaving for trips with things tucked behind his back. It didn't take me long to discover that he always picks up something special for the children before road trips or vacations. If it'll be a long drive, he buys them a new movie. If we're going to the beach and he thinks there will be downtime or bad weather, he brings some Lego project for them to complete together. He always buys them new beach toys - every year. There's always something special hidden away for them when they get bored. None of these things are usually expensive. Don shops the clearance aisles and stashes away things when he can get them for a song. It's not the money he spends, it's the thought he puts into each gift.
He's always been a tremendous help to the children with school work. He leaves anything to me that he feels requires "artistic ability" (which I find laughable, because the artistic genes definitely come from HIS side of the family), but math, science, even helping edit writing projects are all things he's willing to take on. Since starting high school, he's spent hours with Deanna, helping her with physics, computer skills, explaining the concepts in Algebra and, more importantly, teaching her how to use the laptop more effectively. The evening of the first day of school, I found him sprawled on Deanna's bed working side-by-side with her on her homework.
Don has never felt threatened by me. I'm a very strong, opinionated woman, but he's way stronger. My family laughs often because, as they say, Don lets me think I'm in charge and make decisions when he doesn't really care about them, but just when I think he's not paying attention and I get a little heavy-handed, out pops the "in-control" Don to set me straight and bring proper order back into our family life. He rules the roost with an iron hand, albeit an invisible one. My father told me years ago that he didn't think Don ever told me "no". I laughed. Don tells me no all the time. But I learned two years into our marriage that there is no changing his mind, so I don't talk about the things to which he says no. I tried manipulating, getting angry, the silent treatment, and every other device known to woman. Nothing worked. When Don says no, the answer is no - period. He's impervious to my feminine wiles.
On the other hand, Don has incredible wisdom. I love talking to him. He always sees things from a very different perspective than mine. When I have a problem or can't quite think through something, I'm quick to run to Don. He usually has the perfect solution and, normally, it's something that would never have crossed my mind. And he's able to mention these things in such a gentle, kind way that I never feel ordered around. He just speaks wisdom and I hear it for what it is.
Once, when we were going through a particularly difficult time with one of our children, Don suggested me taking the children to his parents' for 3 months. He told me I could homeschool them there, but that would get the child out of the difficult situation and give them a little break. I scoffed. "I can't move in with your parents!! Have you even asked them? They couldn't handle us being there for 3 months. Besides, the children couldn't miss 3 months of school!" I dismissed his suggestion without a second thought. A week later, we got the offer to go to England - for 3 months. We took the kids out of school and I homeschooled them there. The child got the needed break and God worked around my shortsightedness and my dismissal of my husband's idea. Now, of course, I can see that God probably wanted us in West Virginia and was speaking through my husband but, because of my stubbornness, he had to work another way that was more palatable to me. After our return from England, while visiting my in-laws, I told Mom about this. She was quick to tell me that I should have come there; that those are her grandchildren and she'd make do.
"Anytime you need to get away, Honey, you come here. Three months would have been fine with me."
Does this man that I love and respect so much have faults? Yes, of course, just like all humans. But he's so-o-o-o-o-o perfect for me, so truly God's choice for me. When we announced our engagement, some friends that knew us both well expressed surprise.
"You two have absolutely NOTHING in common," they said. That's true. Don loves the mountains, I love the beach. He loves Mexican, I love Italian. He's quiet and doesn't like groups. I'm energized by social contact and come alive entertaining large groups. He likes bland foods, I like flavorful. He likes simple, I like complicated. He's dark, I'm fair. The list of differences goes on and on. Truly, the only things we had in common were our love of God, our senses of humor, and our love and respect for each other. But that was enough. We've made a wonderful life together, mostly because of him.
My friend, Jim Guinan, is fond of jokingly saying about his wife, "She's the gorilla of my dreams!" Along those same lines, Don may not be perfect, or anything like me, but he's the Manta 'o MY dreams.
Happy Belated Birthday, my love. I'm looking forward to many more.
When I first met Don, I was immediately attracted to him. He's a quiet man, but you catch a sense of extreme strength hovering just below the surface. He has a wonderful, gleaming smile and eyes that twinkle when he's kidding or poking fun at someone. His gentleness is one of the first things that is apparent about him. Strength and gentleness - hmm! No wonder I was attracted to him.
On our very first date, I realized that he's a man that's in control. He was confortable, confident, and very, very funny. Don has a fabulous sense of humor, but in a very quiet way. If you're not watching for it, you'll never experience it. One of the things I realized early on in our relationship was that, when passion was gone or we were too old to care about those things, Don would keep life fun for me. His humor and approach to life would linger until death. I love being with him. He makes everyday chores seem like family time at the park. He'll walk by me in the kitchen while I'm doing dishes and deadpan about some crazy thing he just saw outside. He clips articles from magazines and newspapers and leaves them at our places at the table - last week, there was an article in an SRS Newsletter about an alligator they call "Mr. Stumpy". He and his mate have parented approximately 500 young and Don included a picture of Stumpy with one of his hatchlings riding on his back. What makes the story funny is that Deanna's terrified of alligators and Don's determined to break her of her fear. For her 13th birthday, when we honored her at an Assembly at school, Don brought (unbeknownst to me - it was HIS thing with his daughter, not mine) a stuffed alligator with a chicken inside it. He explained that alligators were nothing to be afraid of - they were just chickens wearing alligator suits. He's bought Deanna alligator pencil holders and worked very hard at assuaging her fear through humor.
Which brings me to the next point; Don LOVES his children. I'm not sure I've ever seen a man so in love with his family. He buys Christmas presents for each of the children just from him. He thinks about it for months and comes up with the perfect idea, then goes out alone to buy the presents, wraps them himself, and refuses to even tell me what he bought them. Time after time, it turns out to be the perfect gift, but it's always something that has to do with HIS relationship with them. I buy the presents from "us", he buys the presents from Daddy. Several years ago, he started giving them an end-of-school gift, also. This shocked me. To me, the end of school was gift enough. But Don is so proud of the effort his children put into school and the grades they make that he felt they needed a reward at the end of the school year, so he always buys them something special to begin the summer.
Many years ago, when the children were young, I noticed that Don would come out to the van as we were leaving for trips with things tucked behind his back. It didn't take me long to discover that he always picks up something special for the children before road trips or vacations. If it'll be a long drive, he buys them a new movie. If we're going to the beach and he thinks there will be downtime or bad weather, he brings some Lego project for them to complete together. He always buys them new beach toys - every year. There's always something special hidden away for them when they get bored. None of these things are usually expensive. Don shops the clearance aisles and stashes away things when he can get them for a song. It's not the money he spends, it's the thought he puts into each gift.
He's always been a tremendous help to the children with school work. He leaves anything to me that he feels requires "artistic ability" (which I find laughable, because the artistic genes definitely come from HIS side of the family), but math, science, even helping edit writing projects are all things he's willing to take on. Since starting high school, he's spent hours with Deanna, helping her with physics, computer skills, explaining the concepts in Algebra and, more importantly, teaching her how to use the laptop more effectively. The evening of the first day of school, I found him sprawled on Deanna's bed working side-by-side with her on her homework.
Don has never felt threatened by me. I'm a very strong, opinionated woman, but he's way stronger. My family laughs often because, as they say, Don lets me think I'm in charge and make decisions when he doesn't really care about them, but just when I think he's not paying attention and I get a little heavy-handed, out pops the "in-control" Don to set me straight and bring proper order back into our family life. He rules the roost with an iron hand, albeit an invisible one. My father told me years ago that he didn't think Don ever told me "no". I laughed. Don tells me no all the time. But I learned two years into our marriage that there is no changing his mind, so I don't talk about the things to which he says no. I tried manipulating, getting angry, the silent treatment, and every other device known to woman. Nothing worked. When Don says no, the answer is no - period. He's impervious to my feminine wiles.
On the other hand, Don has incredible wisdom. I love talking to him. He always sees things from a very different perspective than mine. When I have a problem or can't quite think through something, I'm quick to run to Don. He usually has the perfect solution and, normally, it's something that would never have crossed my mind. And he's able to mention these things in such a gentle, kind way that I never feel ordered around. He just speaks wisdom and I hear it for what it is.
Once, when we were going through a particularly difficult time with one of our children, Don suggested me taking the children to his parents' for 3 months. He told me I could homeschool them there, but that would get the child out of the difficult situation and give them a little break. I scoffed. "I can't move in with your parents!! Have you even asked them? They couldn't handle us being there for 3 months. Besides, the children couldn't miss 3 months of school!" I dismissed his suggestion without a second thought. A week later, we got the offer to go to England - for 3 months. We took the kids out of school and I homeschooled them there. The child got the needed break and God worked around my shortsightedness and my dismissal of my husband's idea. Now, of course, I can see that God probably wanted us in West Virginia and was speaking through my husband but, because of my stubbornness, he had to work another way that was more palatable to me. After our return from England, while visiting my in-laws, I told Mom about this. She was quick to tell me that I should have come there; that those are her grandchildren and she'd make do.
"Anytime you need to get away, Honey, you come here. Three months would have been fine with me."
Does this man that I love and respect so much have faults? Yes, of course, just like all humans. But he's so-o-o-o-o-o perfect for me, so truly God's choice for me. When we announced our engagement, some friends that knew us both well expressed surprise.
"You two have absolutely NOTHING in common," they said. That's true. Don loves the mountains, I love the beach. He loves Mexican, I love Italian. He's quiet and doesn't like groups. I'm energized by social contact and come alive entertaining large groups. He likes bland foods, I like flavorful. He likes simple, I like complicated. He's dark, I'm fair. The list of differences goes on and on. Truly, the only things we had in common were our love of God, our senses of humor, and our love and respect for each other. But that was enough. We've made a wonderful life together, mostly because of him.
My friend, Jim Guinan, is fond of jokingly saying about his wife, "She's the gorilla of my dreams!" Along those same lines, Don may not be perfect, or anything like me, but he's the Manta 'o MY dreams.
Happy Belated Birthday, my love. I'm looking forward to many more.
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
One Small Step . . .
I'm a bit of an organization freak. Most people who've seen my house might not believe this, but it's true. I make my Menus a month to six weeks at a time, then make my grocery list weekly from my menus. I have a master list of things I like to cook and I pull that out when planning my menus. I have a menu for school year breakfasts, Monday through Friday, with variations from week to week. I have a school year lunch menu - what I put in lunchboxes each school day, again, with variations noted. I have a snack menu that I fill out for about 4 weeks at a time, planning out what the children can have everyday for their after-school snack. I have a chore list for each of the children, a detailed daily morning and afternoon schedule for the boys (Deanna's exempt since she's proven she can schedule her own time quite well), and a clip on my fridge that holds Invitations, notes from teachers, carpool schedules for events . . . anything to which I might need to refer again. Also posted on the fridge is my monthly schedule with appointments, after-school activities, evening commitments, and whatever else I need to do outside of the house.
So it should come as no surprise that I've perfected planning for a trip. When our children were little, going out to dinner was such a hassle that we seldom ventured out. The kids would get fussy, service might be slow and they'd start screaming from hunger or fatigue. It was impossible to eat out and get them home in time for bed. We adjusted our lifestyle accordingly, and there it has stayed.
We almost never eat out, even when on vacation. I try to plan ONE night out while vacationing just so I don't have dinner preparations and clean-up. But, the majority of the time, I'm in the kitchen preparing three meals a day while everyone else is relaxing, enjoying the pool or beach, etc. I try hard to prepare as many meals in advance as possible and freeze them, making preparation minimal. But there's still warming up, making side-dishes, and all the other preparation tasks that come with eating at home.
I start my planning process with a menu. I plan breakfast, lunch, and dinner for each day we'l be gone, including snacks, desserts, beverages. Then, from the menus, I put together a Master Food List. This includes everything I need to make each of the items on the menu. For instance, salt and pepper and butter would be on my Master Food List but not necessarily on my menu. Once I have my master food list, I go through it and mark all the items I plan on taking from home. Next, I transfer these items to a Kitchen Packing List so I can mark them off once they're packed. The remaining items on my master list get transferred to a Grocery List and put in my purse so it's handy after we arrive at our destination.
This all may seem like a lot of work, but it's the only thing that keeps me sane. Twice, when packing for trips, major problems have arisen. Once, I had a miscarriage and was released from the hospital the day we were to leave on our trip. Another time, I was hospitalized for a severe sinus infection and put on IV antibiotics with the possibility of surgery looming over me. The doctors decided to release me so I could go to the beach with my family if I promised to have sinus surgery upon my return. I got home from the hospital the night before we were scheduled to leave on vacation. In both of these instances, there were no lists. I was packing by the seat of my pants. Needless to say, we had numerous daily trips to the grocery store and several meals we couldn't pull off because I wasn't going to buy a dozen eggs that we couldn't use to get the one that we needed or a 5-lb. bag of sugar so I could sweeten my coffee. I am totally convinced that the only way to prepare for a trip where we will be cooking is the very extremely ordered way to which I am accustomed.
We are planning a short visit for the Beach this weekend for a Reunion. Thus, a menu, a packing list, and a grocery list was needed. I sat down this morning and knocked it all out. Now I just have to do the packing, make the brownies and cookies, make a few preparations for Deanna's birthday cake to take with me, and I'll be ready to tackle the trip peacefully. It's amazing how much peace a little organization can give me.
I say this very tongue-in-cheek as I glance up from the computer screen to my house. We had a yard sale Saturday and there is only a small, tight path between the boxes and bags through the hallways, the living room, and the dining room. Disarray and disorder surrounds me, yet I can be at peace because I have my lists for the trip prepared.
The bottom line is I'll take whatever I can get right now. And, it seems the most I can get is a packing list. Thank goodness for that.
So it should come as no surprise that I've perfected planning for a trip. When our children were little, going out to dinner was such a hassle that we seldom ventured out. The kids would get fussy, service might be slow and they'd start screaming from hunger or fatigue. It was impossible to eat out and get them home in time for bed. We adjusted our lifestyle accordingly, and there it has stayed.
We almost never eat out, even when on vacation. I try to plan ONE night out while vacationing just so I don't have dinner preparations and clean-up. But, the majority of the time, I'm in the kitchen preparing three meals a day while everyone else is relaxing, enjoying the pool or beach, etc. I try hard to prepare as many meals in advance as possible and freeze them, making preparation minimal. But there's still warming up, making side-dishes, and all the other preparation tasks that come with eating at home.
I start my planning process with a menu. I plan breakfast, lunch, and dinner for each day we'l be gone, including snacks, desserts, beverages. Then, from the menus, I put together a Master Food List. This includes everything I need to make each of the items on the menu. For instance, salt and pepper and butter would be on my Master Food List but not necessarily on my menu. Once I have my master food list, I go through it and mark all the items I plan on taking from home. Next, I transfer these items to a Kitchen Packing List so I can mark them off once they're packed. The remaining items on my master list get transferred to a Grocery List and put in my purse so it's handy after we arrive at our destination.
This all may seem like a lot of work, but it's the only thing that keeps me sane. Twice, when packing for trips, major problems have arisen. Once, I had a miscarriage and was released from the hospital the day we were to leave on our trip. Another time, I was hospitalized for a severe sinus infection and put on IV antibiotics with the possibility of surgery looming over me. The doctors decided to release me so I could go to the beach with my family if I promised to have sinus surgery upon my return. I got home from the hospital the night before we were scheduled to leave on vacation. In both of these instances, there were no lists. I was packing by the seat of my pants. Needless to say, we had numerous daily trips to the grocery store and several meals we couldn't pull off because I wasn't going to buy a dozen eggs that we couldn't use to get the one that we needed or a 5-lb. bag of sugar so I could sweeten my coffee. I am totally convinced that the only way to prepare for a trip where we will be cooking is the very extremely ordered way to which I am accustomed.
We are planning a short visit for the Beach this weekend for a Reunion. Thus, a menu, a packing list, and a grocery list was needed. I sat down this morning and knocked it all out. Now I just have to do the packing, make the brownies and cookies, make a few preparations for Deanna's birthday cake to take with me, and I'll be ready to tackle the trip peacefully. It's amazing how much peace a little organization can give me.
I say this very tongue-in-cheek as I glance up from the computer screen to my house. We had a yard sale Saturday and there is only a small, tight path between the boxes and bags through the hallways, the living room, and the dining room. Disarray and disorder surrounds me, yet I can be at peace because I have my lists for the trip prepared.
The bottom line is I'll take whatever I can get right now. And, it seems the most I can get is a packing list. Thank goodness for that.
Monday, October 03, 2011
It Happens to the Best of Us
On the way home from church yesterday, driving down the big hill in North Augusta, Daelyn asked thoughtfully,
"Mom, is THAT thing a tree or something else?"
We all glanced up at the towering "thing". I've never been able to figure that out myself. It looks like a pine tree, but the branches don't start until very near the top and it's really, really tall.
"Honey, I have no idea," I responded. "It looks like a tree, but I just don't know for sure."
Don cut through the confusion.
"It's a radio tower that they disguised to LOOK like a tree," he explained - - which led to much quiet thoughtfulness.
Finally, I asked the question.
"If they intended to make it look like a tree, why didn't they put branches all the way up?"
"I don't know," Don said. "But they must have tried to disguise it because of some type of city ordinance or something."
Daelyn, in true Daelyn fashion, responded quietly, "Maybe they ran out of funding."
"Mom, is THAT thing a tree or something else?"
We all glanced up at the towering "thing". I've never been able to figure that out myself. It looks like a pine tree, but the branches don't start until very near the top and it's really, really tall.
"Honey, I have no idea," I responded. "It looks like a tree, but I just don't know for sure."
Don cut through the confusion.
"It's a radio tower that they disguised to LOOK like a tree," he explained - - which led to much quiet thoughtfulness.
Finally, I asked the question.
"If they intended to make it look like a tree, why didn't they put branches all the way up?"
"I don't know," Don said. "But they must have tried to disguise it because of some type of city ordinance or something."
Daelyn, in true Daelyn fashion, responded quietly, "Maybe they ran out of funding."
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Child #4
As I sat at the computer this afternoon, Donovan walked in, perched under my chair, and began chewing heartily.
"What do you have, Pup?" I asked. I reached down and came up with a lollipop stick, the Dum-Dum still intact down to the wrapper. I frowned at Donovan who was looking up at me sheepishly.
About an hour later, I heard Donovan walk briskly down the hallway. I glanced up just in time to see him stop at the corner to the back hallway and look suspiciously my direction.
"Stop right there," I hollered to him as he dropped yet another Dum-Dum. Obviously, he knew better or he would have happily munched it.
"Where's he getting all this candy?" I asked Daelyn.
"I think you left some candy on the table when you cleaned out the candy jar last night, Mom." I headed into the kitchen to check out the situation. Yes, there were still a couple of remaining pieces, which I put away, but only after I found Donovan sitting in a chair purveying the territory as I walked in.
Still later, Donovan wandered into the Den. He was chewing and tossing his head back.
"What do you have THIS time?" I asked him. When he refused to answer, I put my hand in front of his mouth.
"Drop it!" I commanded. No response.
As he tilted his head and cut his eyes to the side so he could see me, I pried his mouth opened and pulled out - - a Starburst. I have no idea how I managed to miss another candy, but he must've worked pretty hard to find it on the table amidst the paper, Deanna's diaorama, etc.
"Good grief," I yelled. Deanna glanced quietly at me and commented,
"Mom, that dog eats more candy than us kids."
At least he tries.
"What do you have, Pup?" I asked. I reached down and came up with a lollipop stick, the Dum-Dum still intact down to the wrapper. I frowned at Donovan who was looking up at me sheepishly.
About an hour later, I heard Donovan walk briskly down the hallway. I glanced up just in time to see him stop at the corner to the back hallway and look suspiciously my direction.
"Stop right there," I hollered to him as he dropped yet another Dum-Dum. Obviously, he knew better or he would have happily munched it.
"Where's he getting all this candy?" I asked Daelyn.
"I think you left some candy on the table when you cleaned out the candy jar last night, Mom." I headed into the kitchen to check out the situation. Yes, there were still a couple of remaining pieces, which I put away, but only after I found Donovan sitting in a chair purveying the territory as I walked in.
Still later, Donovan wandered into the Den. He was chewing and tossing his head back.
"What do you have THIS time?" I asked him. When he refused to answer, I put my hand in front of his mouth.
"Drop it!" I commanded. No response.
As he tilted his head and cut his eyes to the side so he could see me, I pried his mouth opened and pulled out - - a Starburst. I have no idea how I managed to miss another candy, but he must've worked pretty hard to find it on the table amidst the paper, Deanna's diaorama, etc.
"Good grief," I yelled. Deanna glanced quietly at me and commented,
"Mom, that dog eats more candy than us kids."
At least he tries.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Peanuts, Wherefore Art Thou?
On the way up to the mountains, we passed dozens of those little shops cut into the side of mountains or barely hanging off the edge of a cliff. We chose one that looked easy to access and stopped to look around, buy Deanna's coveted Apple Butter, and take a short break from windy mountain roads.
Inside, we noticed they had boiled peanuts for sale; three kinds, in fact. You could choose from Regular, Cajun (spicy) or Salt and Vinegar. The latter didn't sound very appealing until the store owner gave me a sample. They were absolutely addictive. We bought two cupsful and Dane got the Regular, most of which we ended up throwing out, but the Salt and Vinegar were gobbled down.
On the trip home, we looked for that place again to buy more, but it was too late in the day and everything was closed. We've talked about those Salt and Vinegar Boiled Peanuts a lot in the months since.
Last Friday, I took my father grocery shopping at the military base. The weather has cooled down tremendously and they had a big display of green peanuts. Those Salt and Vinegar ones sprang to mind, so I bought a big bag and brought them home, tossed them in the crockpot with salt, cold water, and vinegar, and started 'er up. I cooked them through the night on Friday and, by Saturday, we had a batch ready for feasting, which we all did. Dane had a friend over and I'd hear the back door open, then the lid of the crockpot opening. We all enjoyed them tremendously.
Late in the morning, Don walked into the kitchen. Deanna and I were standing around the crockpot sucking the juice out of peanuts, then shelling them and downing the soft nuts inside.
"Hope you enjoy them," he said, "because the peanut crop failed and peanut prices are going to skyrocket. I read that 1 lb. of peanut butter will cost $10!"
I looked at Deanna, her eyes got wide, and, within a couple of hours, we were at the grocery store buying (you guessed it) more green peanuts.
We bought 15 lbs. I've been cooking and freezing boiled peanuts (with salt and vinegar) ever since. I figure if I buy them now, before the prices are impacted, go ahead and cook them, then freeze them, we'll have peanuts to get us through the whole winter. On a cool weekend, as a special treat for the children, I can pull a bag out of the freezer, throw them in the crockpot, and - VOILA!! Hot, vinegar and salt boiled peanuts - for nothing, except the hassle of cooking them now.
I feel like we've got a factory going here. I realized very early on that the crockpot wasn't a large enough capacity to get them all done before mold set into them, so I now have my large kettle going on the stove as well as my stockpot AND the crockpot. But, once the batches I'm working on now are done, I only have one more small batch to do, and it'll fit in the crockpot.
The plus side to all this work, of course, is unlimited boiled peanuts throughout the day. When the work is finally done, the stove and the kettles are cleaned and put away, I'm sure the children and I are going to go through boiled peanut-withdrawal.
Good thing we don't have to worry about it just yet!
Monday, September 19, 2011
Whew!! What a Summer!
In case anyone was wondering, we had quite the Summer. It began in June with Dane's week at Scout Camp. Camp this year was in the North Georgia Mountains and we drove Dane up on a Sunday as a family. We spent the week pining for him and he celebrated his 12th birthday while there.
Next, we spent 2 1/2 weeks at Grandpa Doughty's. Don and Deanna were with us for a week, then they returned home so Deanna could go to camp. Dane, Daelyn and I stayed behind so Dane could work for Grandpa at the Crafts Fair he attends over the 4th of July. Deanna was going to be at camp and Don was going back to work, so I kept Daelyn, also, and he and I played while Dane and Grandpa worked the Crafts Fair. We went down to the Fair on Saturday and spent a good portion of the day enjoying the crafts, foods, smells, sights, and sounds. I spelled Dane in Grandpa's booth so he and Daelyn could fish for awhile. The whole time spent with Grandpa was wonderful and very restful.
Deanna returned from camp before the boys and I got home from Grandpa's. We came home just long enough to can some pickles, wash clothes, and head back out again, this time to Panama City Beach to visit my sweet niece, Alicia, and her husband, Randy, who live one block off the beach and have a guest house. I believe I wrote about that trip, also, here.
Upon our return, we had just 10 days to put away the beach stuff, do laundry again, and prepare for Daelyn's week at Horse Camp. We spent a lot of time at the pool and harvesting the garden during that 17 days and enjoyed the lazy summer schedule.
But shortly after Horse Camp ended, we repacked the van and headed to Washington, DC to visit my niece, Lydia, and her husband, Dan. They married last summer and we spent a few days touring D.C. It finally occurred to us that we probably will visit at least once a year while Lydia lives there, so we should pace ourselves and begin to see more than just the typical touristy things. We carefully planned a few stops for this trip and gave them full days so we could really get the feel of them. But, mostly, we enjoyed spending time with Lydia. She had encouraged us to visit in August, when Congress is on break, because it would be easier for her to take time off. I've avoided D.C. during August my entire life because of the heat, but we actually had a cold spell and the weather was pleasant. There were no crowds and very little wait to get into all the things we wanted to see, which was a very nice surprise. Lydia was off work the whole time we visited, and we spent long hours just wasting time with her. The kids really got to know their cousin and we reconnected after many years of short, perfunctory visits together. It was wonderful and something we'll try again next year.
We had just one week after our return from D.C. to get ready for school. Thank goodness, we had started earlier in the summer. I had compiled a thorough list of all the children's school needs, then hit the tax-free shopping weekend held in South Carolina. I divided the master list into three parts (must have been while Daelyn was at Horse Camp, because he wasn't with us), gave one each to Deanna and Dane, and we hit different areas of the school supplies section at the Wal-Mart just across the river in S.C. We accomplished the shopping in record time and it was much more peaceful than usual. Then I put together another list with the items we couldn't find so we could look for them over the next few weeks. Once home, the kids helped me sort and organize, and we bagged up each child's supplies and labeled their bags with their names - - all ready for the first day of school!!! Yay!!!
And a good thing, too, because we spent the last week of summer vacation in Hilton Head, S.C. at our condo - our family vacation. Having a place at the beach so close to home allows us to host lots of friends and family, and this year was no different. We had visitors planned every single day except Sunday for the whole week, which was a little exhausting, but fun.
We arrived home Saturday evening the weekend before school was to start on Tuesday. And that was one summer to remember.
The good thing about this summer was that we were never home long enough for boredom to set in. When the children WERE home, they enjoyed spending time with their friends, riding bikes, swimming, playing, doing all the "normal" summer things. But, just about the time they'd begin to start formulating the "b" word in their heads, we'd be off somewhere on another adventure. It was exhausting, but remarkable fun, and we took advantage of every single day of summer.
As the children get older, I'm all the more aware of how few of these we have left. Deanna started high school this year. Only have 3 more full summers with her before she's in the throes of college life and planning her summers for herself.
Without dwelling too much on that, the funny thing about this summer was that, after last year's trek to Hawaii, Don felt we needed a quiet three months without a long vacation. That's what this summer was all about. A close-to-home summer. Other than our annual one week vacation in Hilton Head, we had nothing planned - ha, ha!!
Next year, we're due for a big vacation again and my nephew in Atlanta, Alicia in Panama City Beach, and Lydia in D.C. will all have new babies. There's no way we're going to be home much.
Better get all the clothes washed up now!! Summer's a'comin'!
Next, we spent 2 1/2 weeks at Grandpa Doughty's. Don and Deanna were with us for a week, then they returned home so Deanna could go to camp. Dane, Daelyn and I stayed behind so Dane could work for Grandpa at the Crafts Fair he attends over the 4th of July. Deanna was going to be at camp and Don was going back to work, so I kept Daelyn, also, and he and I played while Dane and Grandpa worked the Crafts Fair. We went down to the Fair on Saturday and spent a good portion of the day enjoying the crafts, foods, smells, sights, and sounds. I spelled Dane in Grandpa's booth so he and Daelyn could fish for awhile. The whole time spent with Grandpa was wonderful and very restful.
Deanna returned from camp before the boys and I got home from Grandpa's. We came home just long enough to can some pickles, wash clothes, and head back out again, this time to Panama City Beach to visit my sweet niece, Alicia, and her husband, Randy, who live one block off the beach and have a guest house. I believe I wrote about that trip, also, here.
Upon our return, we had just 10 days to put away the beach stuff, do laundry again, and prepare for Daelyn's week at Horse Camp. We spent a lot of time at the pool and harvesting the garden during that 17 days and enjoyed the lazy summer schedule.
But shortly after Horse Camp ended, we repacked the van and headed to Washington, DC to visit my niece, Lydia, and her husband, Dan. They married last summer and we spent a few days touring D.C. It finally occurred to us that we probably will visit at least once a year while Lydia lives there, so we should pace ourselves and begin to see more than just the typical touristy things. We carefully planned a few stops for this trip and gave them full days so we could really get the feel of them. But, mostly, we enjoyed spending time with Lydia. She had encouraged us to visit in August, when Congress is on break, because it would be easier for her to take time off. I've avoided D.C. during August my entire life because of the heat, but we actually had a cold spell and the weather was pleasant. There were no crowds and very little wait to get into all the things we wanted to see, which was a very nice surprise. Lydia was off work the whole time we visited, and we spent long hours just wasting time with her. The kids really got to know their cousin and we reconnected after many years of short, perfunctory visits together. It was wonderful and something we'll try again next year.
We had just one week after our return from D.C. to get ready for school. Thank goodness, we had started earlier in the summer. I had compiled a thorough list of all the children's school needs, then hit the tax-free shopping weekend held in South Carolina. I divided the master list into three parts (must have been while Daelyn was at Horse Camp, because he wasn't with us), gave one each to Deanna and Dane, and we hit different areas of the school supplies section at the Wal-Mart just across the river in S.C. We accomplished the shopping in record time and it was much more peaceful than usual. Then I put together another list with the items we couldn't find so we could look for them over the next few weeks. Once home, the kids helped me sort and organize, and we bagged up each child's supplies and labeled their bags with their names - - all ready for the first day of school!!! Yay!!!
And a good thing, too, because we spent the last week of summer vacation in Hilton Head, S.C. at our condo - our family vacation. Having a place at the beach so close to home allows us to host lots of friends and family, and this year was no different. We had visitors planned every single day except Sunday for the whole week, which was a little exhausting, but fun.
We arrived home Saturday evening the weekend before school was to start on Tuesday. And that was one summer to remember.
The good thing about this summer was that we were never home long enough for boredom to set in. When the children WERE home, they enjoyed spending time with their friends, riding bikes, swimming, playing, doing all the "normal" summer things. But, just about the time they'd begin to start formulating the "b" word in their heads, we'd be off somewhere on another adventure. It was exhausting, but remarkable fun, and we took advantage of every single day of summer.
As the children get older, I'm all the more aware of how few of these we have left. Deanna started high school this year. Only have 3 more full summers with her before she's in the throes of college life and planning her summers for herself.
Without dwelling too much on that, the funny thing about this summer was that, after last year's trek to Hawaii, Don felt we needed a quiet three months without a long vacation. That's what this summer was all about. A close-to-home summer. Other than our annual one week vacation in Hilton Head, we had nothing planned - ha, ha!!
Next year, we're due for a big vacation again and my nephew in Atlanta, Alicia in Panama City Beach, and Lydia in D.C. will all have new babies. There's no way we're going to be home much.
Better get all the clothes washed up now!! Summer's a'comin'!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My Memories of 9/11
As I sat down alone tonight to a very late dinner (my portion of the lovingly-prepared meal was gobbled up by some hungry children without consideration to Mama who ran out of the house in a mad rush for the meeting she almost missed completely), I grabbed the Funnies that were sitting, opened, to read. Apparently, I'm a week late because all of them were about 9/11.
Every Sunday, during the Prayers of the People at church, they announce the names of the people celebrating birthdays or anniversaries the next week. I try very hard to greet everyone I know after church with an upcoming birthday. As I was walking through the foyer, I ran into the husband of a woman whose name had been mentioned.
"Hey, Dick, when is Susan's birthday?" I asked.
"Today," he said, giving me a quick hug.
"Oh, goodness. I want to tell her Happy Birthday. Is she here?"
"No, Patti, since 9/11, Susan stays inside on her birthday and doesn't wish to celebrate it."
I understand the sentiment. All the children born on Pearl Harbor Day must have felt exactly the same for 30 or 40 years after that notorious date. Yet, I wondered if we didn't owe it to all the people who lost their lives that day to live ours to the fullest. Shouldn't we pick ourselves up, wash our faces, put on clean clothes, and be thankful we have a life to live?
As I'm sure each of us did last Sunday, I spent some time remembering where I was when "the event" (notice it's in lower case, not upper case letters - I refuse the dignify the murder of thousands of innocents by capital letters) took place. I was pregnant with Daelyn, my precious baby, and in the hospital. I was eating my breakfast quietly when my doctor, an Army-trained Ob/Gyn, walked into the room.
"Patti, you should have the T.V. on and be watching the news," she told me. "A plane just hit one of the twin towers."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding. How could that happen? Did something happen to the pilot? Wouldn't it have been on autopilot by then? Was it a terrorist attack?" My mind was reeling trying to grasp the concept of the Twin Towers being hit.
"I don't know," she responded. "Turn the T.V. on."
I did and, as she and I watched, the second plane hit the second tower. There was silence in my hospital room for several minutes. Then she quietly said,
"Well, I guess there's your answer."
As horrific as the whole scene on the T.V. was, I couldn't tear myself away. I laid in that hospital bed crying - crying for the victims, crying for their families, crying for the rescue workers, crying for all the people watching, like me, in shock, crying for the lost innocence of my country.
I tried repeatedly to reach my husband, who works at a Nuclear Facility that is always under alert to terrorist attack. I couldn't get through; the phone lines were overwhelmed by all the calls. As the news coverage unfolded, we heard about that other flights that had been taken over by terrorists. There were reports of a plane hitting the Pentagon and lots of other unsubstantiated rumors flying. I was petrified, thinking that SRS had been bombed and that was why I couldn't reach Don.
Suddenly, my phone rang, a sound that really jangled my already-frazzled nerves. I snatched it off the cradle, hoping against hope it was my husband reporting he was fine. Instead, I heard the voice of one of my sisters, Trina.
She was crying, too. All I could mumble was, "Trina!! Trina!!" amidst my tears.
"I'm coming, Hon," she said. "I don't want you to be alone with all this. I'm coming to sit with you."
It wasn't even necessary to explain how alone I felt; she knew. I wanted a hand to hold, someone's shoulder to cry into as I watch the carnage of 9/11. She was coming to be with me.
I've thought so often how much it meant to me that I didn't have to ASK someone to come to the hospital to be with me at such a difficult time. She knew. And she came.
As painful as that day was, and still is, I'm very thankful for my blood sisters and the love we share for each other. No explanation is necessary most of the time with them; they just instinctively understand.
While I'll never forget that day or the horror of watching people flinging themselves from upper story windows rather than burning up, all caught on live television, I'm ever so thankful for the men and women who risked their lives; those on the planes, those helping others out of the burning buildings, and those trying desperately to rescue others. Next year, I'll wash my face, put on clean clothes, and go out . . . but not before I call my sister, Trina.
Every Sunday, during the Prayers of the People at church, they announce the names of the people celebrating birthdays or anniversaries the next week. I try very hard to greet everyone I know after church with an upcoming birthday. As I was walking through the foyer, I ran into the husband of a woman whose name had been mentioned.
"Hey, Dick, when is Susan's birthday?" I asked.
"Today," he said, giving me a quick hug.
"Oh, goodness. I want to tell her Happy Birthday. Is she here?"
"No, Patti, since 9/11, Susan stays inside on her birthday and doesn't wish to celebrate it."
I understand the sentiment. All the children born on Pearl Harbor Day must have felt exactly the same for 30 or 40 years after that notorious date. Yet, I wondered if we didn't owe it to all the people who lost their lives that day to live ours to the fullest. Shouldn't we pick ourselves up, wash our faces, put on clean clothes, and be thankful we have a life to live?
As I'm sure each of us did last Sunday, I spent some time remembering where I was when "the event" (notice it's in lower case, not upper case letters - I refuse the dignify the murder of thousands of innocents by capital letters) took place. I was pregnant with Daelyn, my precious baby, and in the hospital. I was eating my breakfast quietly when my doctor, an Army-trained Ob/Gyn, walked into the room.
"Patti, you should have the T.V. on and be watching the news," she told me. "A plane just hit one of the twin towers."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding. How could that happen? Did something happen to the pilot? Wouldn't it have been on autopilot by then? Was it a terrorist attack?" My mind was reeling trying to grasp the concept of the Twin Towers being hit.
"I don't know," she responded. "Turn the T.V. on."
I did and, as she and I watched, the second plane hit the second tower. There was silence in my hospital room for several minutes. Then she quietly said,
"Well, I guess there's your answer."
As horrific as the whole scene on the T.V. was, I couldn't tear myself away. I laid in that hospital bed crying - crying for the victims, crying for their families, crying for the rescue workers, crying for all the people watching, like me, in shock, crying for the lost innocence of my country.
I tried repeatedly to reach my husband, who works at a Nuclear Facility that is always under alert to terrorist attack. I couldn't get through; the phone lines were overwhelmed by all the calls. As the news coverage unfolded, we heard about that other flights that had been taken over by terrorists. There were reports of a plane hitting the Pentagon and lots of other unsubstantiated rumors flying. I was petrified, thinking that SRS had been bombed and that was why I couldn't reach Don.
Suddenly, my phone rang, a sound that really jangled my already-frazzled nerves. I snatched it off the cradle, hoping against hope it was my husband reporting he was fine. Instead, I heard the voice of one of my sisters, Trina.
She was crying, too. All I could mumble was, "Trina!! Trina!!" amidst my tears.
"I'm coming, Hon," she said. "I don't want you to be alone with all this. I'm coming to sit with you."
It wasn't even necessary to explain how alone I felt; she knew. I wanted a hand to hold, someone's shoulder to cry into as I watch the carnage of 9/11. She was coming to be with me.
I've thought so often how much it meant to me that I didn't have to ASK someone to come to the hospital to be with me at such a difficult time. She knew. And she came.
As painful as that day was, and still is, I'm very thankful for my blood sisters and the love we share for each other. No explanation is necessary most of the time with them; they just instinctively understand.
While I'll never forget that day or the horror of watching people flinging themselves from upper story windows rather than burning up, all caught on live television, I'm ever so thankful for the men and women who risked their lives; those on the planes, those helping others out of the burning buildings, and those trying desperately to rescue others. Next year, I'll wash my face, put on clean clothes, and go out . . . but not before I call my sister, Trina.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Will All the Confused People Please Stand
While in Washington, DC last week, Deanna, Dane, and I caught the Metro back to my niece's house from the Air and Space Museum. We had to change lines at the next station. Deanna and I were sitting facing each other, while Dane stood near us. The Conductor came over the P.A. System.
"Next stop - Pentagon. Exit on the left, please."
Deanna, confused by my facing her in the car, looked at me with a quizzical expression and asked,
"Which left?"
"Next stop - Pentagon. Exit on the left, please."
Deanna, confused by my facing her in the car, looked at me with a quizzical expression and asked,
"Which left?"
Thursday, August 04, 2011
Eventful Week
I'm absolutely exhausted. Daelyn has been in Horse Camp all week. I have to rise at 6:30 to get him up, fed and dressed, dress myself, make his lunch, and get him out the door. Camp is on the military base and it takes 20 minutes to get there, if they wave us through, up to 50 or 60 if they decide we look suspicious and need to have our car searched. Camp starts at 8 a.m., but the kids get to brush their horses and mess around in the stables if they arrive before 8, so there's always a push to arrive early.
We try to get out the door by 7:10, arriving at camp by 7:30 (when the Gate Guards are merciful). I drop Daelyn off, sign him in, kiss him goodbye, then linger for a few minutes and watch him lovingly brushing his strawberry rone mare, Shortcake, or Shorty, for short. She's the Alpha Female and, as Dane lovingly commented, when the Camp Director told us that she follows behind all the horses when they take their trail rides so she can run up and bite any of the horses that get out of line, she's a lot like our little Daelyn.
Then I have to rush home to pick up Deanna and head to Volleyball practice at the school. Twice this week, I've had appointments right after dropping her off, which has added a little extra pressure to my morning. Then it's home again until 10:30, when she needs to be picked up.
You know, I'm accustomed to rising early and taking the children to all their appointments. I guess the reason this is so exhausting for me is trying to keep up with everyone's schedules. I'm grabbing 15 minutes here to start dinner, 10 here for loading a few dishes in the dishwasher. I haven't eaten breakfast or lunch all week (except for our lunch date with the girl and her mother who will be Dane's dance partner in Social this year). The only wash that's gotten done are the loads essential to make sure Daelyn had blue jeans for camp and Deanna had work-out clothes for volleyball practice. I feel like I've absolutely met myself coming all week.
Add to that the possibility that the sizeable amount of money Don and I invested in a property might have been a Scam, this rash on my arm is itching constantly after a full 5 weeks of dealing with it and seeing two separate doctors about it, the emergency run to a Podiatrist when Deanna's big toe turned blue and they had to drill a hole in the nail and she fell apart when blood spurted out the holes, Dane and Daelyn have been miserable apart from each other but can't stop fighting when they're finally together at the end of the day, and the fact that all of us have had about as much activity as any group of people can stand, I consider it quite a feat that we're still living together and on speaking terms, even it the word "speaking" might be code for "yelling".
I have, however, appreciated watching my children this week. Deanna explained to me that Dane had a bad attitude because he was over-tired. Dane appealed to me to let Daelyn play with the ipod he had just gotten in the mail, even though I had told him no and he was making me pay for it. And all of the children have, at one time or other, intervened in a fight to bring calm and reason. When Deanna made us late today to pick up Daelyn because she didn't hear me and thought we were going shopping and we were both angry and yelling, Dane hollered at both of us to "back off and cool down". Usually, I'm the voice of reason. This week, all of us have been.
At times like these, it occurs to me that my children might actually make it to adulthood without me taking them out early. Despite the stress.
We try to get out the door by 7:10, arriving at camp by 7:30 (when the Gate Guards are merciful). I drop Daelyn off, sign him in, kiss him goodbye, then linger for a few minutes and watch him lovingly brushing his strawberry rone mare, Shortcake, or Shorty, for short. She's the Alpha Female and, as Dane lovingly commented, when the Camp Director told us that she follows behind all the horses when they take their trail rides so she can run up and bite any of the horses that get out of line, she's a lot like our little Daelyn.
Then I have to rush home to pick up Deanna and head to Volleyball practice at the school. Twice this week, I've had appointments right after dropping her off, which has added a little extra pressure to my morning. Then it's home again until 10:30, when she needs to be picked up.
You know, I'm accustomed to rising early and taking the children to all their appointments. I guess the reason this is so exhausting for me is trying to keep up with everyone's schedules. I'm grabbing 15 minutes here to start dinner, 10 here for loading a few dishes in the dishwasher. I haven't eaten breakfast or lunch all week (except for our lunch date with the girl and her mother who will be Dane's dance partner in Social this year). The only wash that's gotten done are the loads essential to make sure Daelyn had blue jeans for camp and Deanna had work-out clothes for volleyball practice. I feel like I've absolutely met myself coming all week.
Add to that the possibility that the sizeable amount of money Don and I invested in a property might have been a Scam, this rash on my arm is itching constantly after a full 5 weeks of dealing with it and seeing two separate doctors about it, the emergency run to a Podiatrist when Deanna's big toe turned blue and they had to drill a hole in the nail and she fell apart when blood spurted out the holes, Dane and Daelyn have been miserable apart from each other but can't stop fighting when they're finally together at the end of the day, and the fact that all of us have had about as much activity as any group of people can stand, I consider it quite a feat that we're still living together and on speaking terms, even it the word "speaking" might be code for "yelling".
I have, however, appreciated watching my children this week. Deanna explained to me that Dane had a bad attitude because he was over-tired. Dane appealed to me to let Daelyn play with the ipod he had just gotten in the mail, even though I had told him no and he was making me pay for it. And all of the children have, at one time or other, intervened in a fight to bring calm and reason. When Deanna made us late today to pick up Daelyn because she didn't hear me and thought we were going shopping and we were both angry and yelling, Dane hollered at both of us to "back off and cool down". Usually, I'm the voice of reason. This week, all of us have been.
At times like these, it occurs to me that my children might actually make it to adulthood without me taking them out early. Despite the stress.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Summer
Why is it that two unnamed children think it's perfectly acceptable to lounge on the couches in jammies at 9:30 a.m. watching cartoons on TV while I yell constantly at them to clean their rooms, walk the dog, finish their chores...?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Fun, fun, fun
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.
"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.
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.
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