Plastic Cows

They are among some of my favorite things.  To someone outside of my family, the attraction to these little black plastic cattle might seem odd.  But I love them.

Grampy used to work out of the country.  They lived out of the country, in fact, until my dad was in high school.  When Grampy retired and planned to move back to the States, there was a party for him.  Since the family was haded to a state with lots of livestock, the tables were decorated with plastic horses and cows and tractors.  It was a lovely party, and when it was over, Grammy had the cows.

I have no idea why she kept them.  My dad was in high school and his siblings were already out of the house.  Maybe she planned to give them to nieces and nephews.  Perhaps the hostess insisted on her keeping them.  Maybe because she lived through the Depression, she couldn't stand to throw them out.  I really don't know.

At Grammy and Grampy's house, the toys were kept in a laundry basket in the middle bedroom closet.  The cows were in that basket all my life.  We drug them out time after time, and despite other choices, the cows were among the favorites.  The adults would usually remark on our choice and Grammy would remind us all that those had been on the table at Grampy's retirement party in 1964.

After Grammy died and we all gathered to clean out the house, we pulled out the laundry basked to entertain the kids (I'd brought all 4) and paid them little mind as we wrapped up and packed up the treasures of our departed's lives.

Hearing a commotion in the other room, I went to see  why the children were being so rowdy.  They were fighting over the cows.  The 40+ year old playthings were still a favorite.  I laugh-sobbed as I took them from the kids and carefully packed them away with Grammy's china.

The cows live in my house now, my kids enjoy playing with them.  I hope one day my grand kids will enjoy them too.

I Miss My Childhood

I miss my childhood.


In my childhood, family loved each other. Period. It didn’t seem complicated. As an adult, I sometimes don’t EVEN like the people I’m related too. My mom made a cross stitch from my Grammy that said Grammy was “not just his mother, but also my friend”, so I thought being in-laws was simple. But as an adult, I’ve discovered that sometimes his family’s brand of crazy and mine don’t mesh. Sometimes we butt heads. Sometimes love is hard and complicated.

In my childhood, death and disease were not everyday realities. The people I knew and loved were generally safe and secure. I did not even know anyone who died until my cousin’s suicide when I was 10. As an adult, I have lost three of my four grandparents, and the Engineer has lost all of his. Our parents are growing older. Mine seem older than their years, no doubt due to the strain of raising my sister’s children.

In my childhood, I had no ideas of wills and trusts and guardian ships. Despite having an active duty military father, the thought of what “could” happen never occurred to me. As an adult, what would happen to my children if something were to happen to my husband and I actively bothers me. Our will had always appointed the Engineer’s parents as guardians if something were to happen to us. But, as I watch my parents aging before their time, I know that isn’t the right choice anymore. There doesn’t seem to be a right choice now, and I don’t know what to do.

In my childhood, there were no such things as mortgages. Seriously. We always lived In the military base provided housing, so I had no idea about house payments and premium mortgage insurance and property taxes. As an adult, I know about these things all too well. They are a source of consternation more frequently than I could’ve imagined as a child.

In my childhood, reading and imagination were daily, constant companions. My mother would pry books out of my hands to convince me to eat, bathe and sleep. When I wasn’t reading, I was frequently daydreaming. I was off in my own little world most of the time. As an adult, mundane things occupy such a large part of my brain that it usually takes a lot of time to break free of the cobwebs enough to write a few paragraphs. Reading takes time, which is all too often, in short supply.

Since I know that I won’t be magically transported back to my childhood anytime soon, I try to spend my time creating a wonderful childhood for my children, and for my nephews. It’s tough sometimes to create a safe bubble for them, without lying or keeping them too sheltered from the realities of the world. But, I know it’s worth it.

Don't Call Me Grace

I fell off the stage at my high school graduation.  And not like "We started that party before the ceremony, so I was drunk" kind of a fall.  No, this was a regulation "I am so very clumsy" type of fall.  I heard my name called, got my diploma, shook some hands, caught my heel on who-knows-what and fell down the stairs onto our school's football coach.

My mother used to say "There's a reason I didn't name you Grace".

It was a life of near constant humiliation.  I once tripped over the air at the roller rink.  I wound up spread out like a bearskin rug on the floor for the entire church youth group to see.

Unfortunately, my poor girls are just like me.  Monkey has literally walked right into walls.  Just this week, getting out of the car, she fell out on her face.  If Hedgehog runs faster than a trot, she inevitably winds up sprawled out, face down.

I guess it is a good thing I didn't name them Grace.

Tornado

"Catherine!  Catherine we MUST go to the storm cellar!"  Miss Medders said firmly, and a bit desperately.

Catherine crossed her arms and continued to huddle under the teacher's desk.  The cellar was dark, dank, and scary and she didn't want to go.  She scooted further from her teacher's hands and listened as the blowing wind caused the whole building to creak.

"Honey, it'll be safer down there, this storm sounds bad."  Even as Miss Medders spoke, the wind howled and hail began pelting the building.  Obstinately, Catherine shook her head again.  Miss Medders tried crawling in after her, but the drawers of her desk were too low.

"Catherine, please!"  Miss Medders half-shouted, sounding fearful.  "Oh thank God!  Ray, can you help me please?"  Before Catherine could react, one of the older boys had tipped Miss Medders' desk on its side, exposing her to her teacher's hands.

Miss Medders took her by the hand, but Catherine pulled back and dug in her heels.  Miss Medders responded by grabbing her around the middle, tucking her under her arm and racing for the back door of the schoolhouse.  Ray held the door open and soon all three of them were outside in the eerie midday darkness.  The rain and hail were coming sideways and the wind gusting so hard that Ray and Miss Medders had to hold on to each other to go the few feet to the cellar.

Once they arrived at the cellar, the wind practically threw the door open for them and Miss Medders dumped Catherine unceremoniously onto the steps.  She, Ray and two of the other bigger boys were fighting against the wind to close the cellar door.  They got it shut and the cellar was pitch black.  Catherine heard her teacher say, "The latch doesn't seem very strong, we'll need to hold the door closed."

Catherine shook on the steps.  In the darkness, she could hear her classmates breathing, but could not see any of them.  The cellar door was rattling hard on its hinges as the furious wind outside shook it and loud, unidentifiable thumps and bangs were sounding all around outside as the storm raged on.  Catherine screamed.  There were no words, just volume as she gave vent to her terror.  She screamed and screamed until several classmates clapped hands over her mouth.  Then, she cried.

Suddenly, it was quiet.  The thumping and banging had stopped.  The door was no longer rattling, and although she could still hear rain falling, Catherine didn't think it sounded dangerous.  A few minutes later, cautiously, Miss Medders opened the door to the cellar.

"Oh, my word.  Oh, my God!"  Miss Medders said, and Catherine knew her teacher was crying.  Running out of the cellar with the other student, Catherine gasped.  Their school was gone.  All that remained was some scattered bricks from the piers of the foundation.  The huge oak tree from in front of the school was twisted in half and crumbled on the ground.

"We could've all died." Miss Medders said in a hoarse whisper.  Catherine surveyed the remains of what had once been their school and silently vowed to never go to school again.

This is a story from my Mimi's childhood.  She was either in first grade or kindergarten.  Even today, in her mid 80's, she hates storms with a passion.

Oxygen Mask

I'm working my way slowly, with exercise and St. John's wort, out of a funk.  Something that I have been doing during the process of funk-busing is trying to evaluate whether I could've done some things differently to prevent winding up here in the first place.   As much as it hurts, I have realized that I probably should've done some things differently.

Now, I'm not saying I could've prevented school starting, or my family's particular type of dysfunction from sucking, but I could've been in better shape to deal with it.

I had NO social life this summer (outside of the 4 kids).  My schedule with my Bunco buddies worked out that I only went and played once this summer.  Additionally, my best friend has moved away and I only made the trip to see her once.

Spiritually, I didn't take good care of my soul.  The Bible study that I had been in ended in early June, and I didn't sign up for another.  I thought "I don't have time".  Additionally, due to family obligations and our family vacation, I missed three Sundays in a row at church.

Physically, I was tired.  Vacations are always fun but exhausting for adults, especially mommies.  I also hadn't been exercising.  The Engineer and I had been working out together (sporadically) before school ended, but it got back-burnered once summer arrived.

All in all, it was the "perfect storm" of factors that kept me from dealing well with my situation.  I should have taken better care of myself.  I matter too.  I've always hated that thing the flight attendants tell you about putting on your own oxygen masks first, and THEN helping your child, but I know it's true.

So, my oxygen mask is this:  I'm trying to write every day, I've joined a Zumba class and I going to start a Bible study on the 12th.  What about you?  What's your personal "oxygen mask"?

God Winks

I've been reading  When God Winks at You: How God Speaks Directly to You Through the Power of Coincidence and whole-heartedly recommend it.  (Not being paid for the opinion, wish I was...)  It is all about how God uses circumstances in our lives to point us in the right direction.  Often times, those who don't share my faith will call these events coincidence.  The stories in the book are very compelling, so I wanted to tell one of my own.

Before the end of the last school year, I was struggling with a decision.  Earlier that year, my younger sister has asked our parents to raise her two sons for an unspecified amount of time, "while she got herself together".  She said she had an addiction to prescription pain medicine.  My parents had raised her sons previously when she had struggled with an addiction with illegal drugs.  So my parents had taken in her sons again.  But both had full-time jobs, and as summer approached, what they would do with the boys for the summer was a problem.

They were thinking of putting them in the local YMCA's summer program but the boys had both been bullied there.  "They can come stay with us,"  I had said.  "I'm home with the girls anyhow, so it's no big deal."

But my parents worried that it was too big for a "burden" for us.  And, deep down, I wondered if I could really handle 4 kids. Plus, our guest room only had a full-sized bed.

So, one Friday morning, after the Engineer left for work, dropping Hedgehog off at school on his way, I got Monkey and I ready to go garage-saling.  In my bathroom that morning, I prayed.  I told God about how uncertain I was, and wondered if I was getting in over my head.  I told Him I would really love some bunk beds, preferably twin over full, to use the mattress I already had.  And I distinctly remember telling Him that the bed was a want, not a need, but it sure would be nice.

So Monkey and I set out.  We went to several disappointing garage sales before time for my annual eye exam.  Once I was finally done with the eye doctor, it was nearly lunch time.  I almost decided to go on home.  I figured all the good stuff would be sold from the remaining sales, but decided to go to one more sale.

As soon as I walked into the barn of the last sale, I saw them.  Wooden twin over full bunk beds, standing in the corner.  I saw a piece of paper on them, and sighed, assuming they were already sold, but looked 'just in case".  The paper was the price, which was in our price range!  I bought them immediately.

Doubters will say that it was coincidence that the DAY I prayed specifically about twin over full bunk beds I "happened" to find them at a late garage sale in our price range.  But I believe that it was God telling me that taking the boys in for the summer was the right thing to do.  And that He would provide the strength and patience, just like He had provided the bed.

Nettles

"Addie, they're coming!"

Addie glanced at her sister.  Deborah looked panicky.  Addie looked past her sister up the dirt road to assess the reason for her sister's dismay.  Pounding up the road, lunch pails clanking, ran the Maddox boys.

"We'll get switched for sure if they get our dresses dirty again!" Deborah wailed.

Addie sighed.  Every day so far this week the boys had splashed much from the road onto the girls' faded, worn dresses.  They liked to pull their braids and tease, too, but the mud was the big problem.  No amount of pleading had been able to convince Momma and Poppa that it wasn't their fault.  A hickory switch would surely be in their future if they couldn't stop the boys.

Running wasn't an option.  The boys were bigger and faster than Addie herself, and little Deborah was much slower than Addie.  They needed a plan.

Addie looked around.  There were plenty of puddles in the road, due to the chilly drizzle they'd been having lately.  There was no escaping, the barbed wire fences on either side of the road would snag and tear their dresses, insuring a switching.  But there, in a fence row to the right, stood a big patch of stinging nettles!

"C'mon", she said to her younger sister and marched over to the patch of painful plants.  Her first thought was to try to push the boys into the nettles, but she quickly rejected that plan, fearing she would end up in the itchy, burning leaves.

Handing her books to her sister, Addie fumbled in her jacket and got out a handkerchief.  "Remind me NOT to use this later," she said as she wrapped the handkerchief carefully around the stem of the biggest nettle of the bunch.  Grunting with effort, she broke the plant off from the ground, and held it behind her back.

The boys, Jesse and Kenneth were close enough now to begin taunting.
      "Hello, widdle girls!"
      "All ready for school, children?"

Their sing-songy chants grated on Addie's nerves.  "Go on up the road," she ordered Deborah.  She watched as, laden with their books, Deborah hurried on down the road.

Seeing her sister mostly out of the way, Addie began stepping determinedly around puddles toward the boys.

As she neared, Kenneth, seeing her deliberate tread, got quiet and stepped behind his older brother.  Kenneth was a little scared of Addie.  Everyone around knew she could shoot as well as any man.  Jesse, however, didn't have enough good sense to be scared.  He grinned at Addie and sneered, "Gonna get the soaking for the both of ya?"

Addie glared and shouted, "You leave us alone!"

Jesse's reply was to pull up his foot and hold it threateningly over the nearest puddle.

"You'd better not!" she hollered.

He laughed and stepped around the puddle but reached out and pulled on her braid, hard.

Addie yelped in pain and pulled the nettle from behind her back to slap Jesse clear across the face with the plant.

"YEOOOOW!"  He screamed, letting go of her hair to grab his own face, which was already showing signs of a nasty rash in reaction to the plant's sting.

Addie waved the plant in front of him, and then his brother.  "Now, you leave us along," she stated again, firmly.

And without a backward glance, she marched past, nettle still in hand, and walked on with her sister, in clean dresses, to school.

(This was one of my favorite stories my Grammy used to tell, about her childhood, in response to Mama Kat's writing post)

Magnetic Monkey and Other Vacation Magic

We were just hours from leaving for our vacation.  All the suitcases were packed, and I was in the kitchen, cleaning out the refrigerator.

"Mom, I am SO mad at Monkey,"  Hedgehog stated, in her tattle-tail voice.

"Huh?"  I said as I tried to decide if leaving iced tea for 10 days would be good or bad.

"She broke the magnet off the back of my necklace and swallowed it!"  she pronounced, with much indignation.

I froze.  "What do I do now?"  I thought.

"Monkey!  Monkey, get in here!"  Monkey shuffled in, looking at her feet, knowing she's done wrong, trying to be contrite enough not to be punished.  "Did you swallow a magnet?"

Monkey nods.

"Does your tummy hurt?"

Shakes her head no.

"Did you swallow more than one?"

Again, no.

"Can you breathe OK?"

Nodding again.

"OK, everybody come in here and watch TV while I make some phone calls,"  I call, trying to keep fear out of my voice.

I make several rapid-fire phone calls.  I leave a message for the nurse at the pediatrician's office, Grumppa tells me that Granny Bear is at work, at at Granny Bear's hospital (she's a nurse) she says to take Monkey to the doctor.  The pediatrician's office calls back, they say to take her to the ER for an X-ray.  I call a local clinic and they say they can do an X-ray.

"Everyone into the truck" I announce to the surprised children.  On the way to the clinic, I call the Engineer, who thinks I am overreacting.  "Kids used to swallow coins all the time and no one got an X-ray.  She'll just poop it out".  But everyone else I've talked to says we have to make sure it's not in her lungs, so we continue on.

A 45 minute wait with 4 kids late, the X-ray is taken and it is confirmed that the magnet is in Monkey's intestines.  I am instructed to "inspect" her feces until the magnet is out.  On vacation.  Fun.

The next day, about 10 hours into our drive, the A/C in the Engineer's truck starts stinking.  It smelled foul.  We were driving in the mountains at that point, and see some burned place, so at first we thought it was from smoke.  But the smell continues for the entire next 8 days of the trip.  All six of us in the truck with a stinky A/C.  Fun.

On day 6 of the trip we get to our hotel room and schlep all our stuff up to the second floor and discover the room is 80°.  When I called the front desk, I was told  "None of our accommodations have A/C".  Fun.

From all of my griping, you may think that we didn't enjoy our trip, but really, it was a lot of, well, fun.  But every trip has a few down sides, and the magnet and the $800 repair (heater core) to the truck were two really big ones!

The Funk

I've been in a funk lately.  It has felt oppressive, like very high heat and humidity combined.  It's been too heavy to lift on my own and too dark to see through.

It started before school began again.  The Thursday before school began, I took Handsome and Rascal to Grumppa for the school year.  Grumppa and Granny Bear raise the boys during the school year so that they live close to their mother.  Grumppa is 63 years old and works a full-time, physically demanding, outdoor job.   So, when we met up for him to take the boys home, he was coming straight from work, and he looked like hell.  And I knew that there was no way he would get any rest with two boys, 11 and 8, in his house, and it broke my heart.

I went home that night sad, but I didn't talk to the Engineer about it, the situation is just impossible, and I was afraid I'd start crying and not stop.

Friday and Saturday passed in a busy blur of "Meet the Teacher", getting school uniforms ready, converting the boys' room backing into a guest room and preparing for friends to come over on Monday.

Sunday was filled with church activities, making gifts for teachers and well-meaning friends asking if Monkey was ready for kindergarten.  And she was.

And before I knew it, it was Monday.  I took the girls to school, took pictures, got them settled in their classrooms, and left.  I came home and got out the refreshments I'd made for my friends and set out Grammy's china.  My friends came and we talked and cried "first day of school" tears.  And then they left.

And the quiet of my house echoed.

And as the week progressed, and the laundry, grocery shopping and housework started getting "caught up", the silence grew louder, and more frightening.  And I didn't tell the Engineer because I didn't know what to say.

I spent an entire half of one day in my sweats, eating Cool Ranch Doritos on the couch, watching "reality" TV.  When I finally got up to get into the shower, I wanted to cry.

I've felt worn-out, worthless and unwanted.  I've felt lonely and purposeless.  I miss the children, sometimes so much that I think I can't breathe.

And the funk wrapped around me like a hot, heavy, wet blanket and I couldn't move or breathe.  But I recognize the funk and am fighting back.  I've told the Engineer and I have a plan.  I'm telling people, and I'm taking care of myself and I'm going to win this fight with the funk.

Top 10 Summer Don'ts

Summer is quickly winding down, but I still thought I'd mention some ideas for you special folks out there who don't seem to be able to enjoy summer properly without getting on the nerves of every blessed person near them:

10.  Do not complain about your sunburn.  Sunburns are highly preventable.  Lotions, creams and sprays with high SPF are in most grocery stores, convenience stores, and dollar stores and they are easy to use.  Double don't complain if you get made fun of for raccoon eyes, or lobster face.

9.  Do not go to the pool and stare disapprovingly down your nose at all the children who are splashing and yelling and goofing around.  If you want a nice, quiet pool to read your book by, you'll have to get one for your own backyard.

8.  Do not go to a community attraction and complain about how crowded it is.  People go places during the summer, frequently in groups.  Double do not ask "where did all these kids come from?", as if you have exclusive rights to the zoo, museum or park.

7.  If you attend a public celebration that involves fireworks, do not take your canine companion unless you are visually impaired.  (In if you are visually impaired, why are you going to the fireworks display?)  Dogs don't like loud noises.  They will be very upset, and since you are obviously VERY busy, videoing the fireworks, there will be no one to comfort your poor doggie.

6.  Do not smoke over the heads of small children, yours or anyone else's. Period.

5.  Don't take your children to a local church for Vacation Bible School when they are outside the ages stated on all of their literature, signs and doors.  They haven't recruited workers to deal with your (non potty-trained) 2 1/2 year old, so you'll need to deal with your own little darling at your home.   

4.  If you MUST plan your outdoor wedding in July, please evaluate the terrain.  Folding chairs, plus a hill, plus sweet Great-Aunt Millie may not be a good combination.  Also, if YOU plan YOUR outdoor wedding in July, you MAY NOT complain about how hot your clothes are.

3.  If you part of a happy couple, keep your happy-coupleness to yourselves.  There is no reason that parents should have to worry that the local pool, grocery line or theme park is rated NC-17 due to your PDA. 

2.  Don't use the temperature as an excuse to gripe about the town/county/state you are currently living in.  Even if you are here temporarily, most of us are here by CHOICE.  We like it despite the heat, crunchy grass and all.

1.  Don't get in my sun, don't knock over my margarita, and don't drip on my book!

Enjoy the rest of your summer!

Why Yes, Stranger, I'd LOVE your Opinion!

One of my absolute pet peeves is unsolicited advice.  From anyone, but double especially from strangers.  And for some reason, this seems to make me a magnet for well-meaning little old ladies and buttinskis everywhere.  I run into the advice-givers in the grocery store, at church, at my children's school and even in my own family.  Here are some witty* comebacks that I thought up WAYYYY after I was insulted by someone presuming to know more than I do:

1.  To the old man at the grocery store who yelled at me to "stop having children and get off of government assistance":  I ignored you, because I assumed that there is something wrong with you.  However, you should know I get NO assistance, from anyone but the Engineer and half the kids you saw with me aren't "technically" mine.  And we support them anyhow.  Mind your own dern business!

2.  To the old ladies who always said my child was undressed/overdressed for the weather:  This baby has colic.  I've been up for 35 1/2 hours straight.  The fact that the baby and I have clothes on is amazing.  If you would like to take this cute little ball of screaming home with you, I might really let you.  Otherwise, mind your own dern business.

3.  To the lady at church who "complimented" my shorter hair cut while mentioning that the "other way was weighing me down", and "made my face look long".  I grew my hair for Locks of Love.  Obviously, you are too shallow to consider doing something that would make you look in a way you consider less than perfect, but I'm not.  And, you aren't all that.  And, if you can't say anything nice, mind your own dern business.

4.  To the brother-in-law who advised us on the best time to have children and have "as good a marriage as theirs" pssssshhhhbbbbb.  We've seen your kids and how you treat your wife, you have NO room to talk.  And oh yeah, mind your own dern business.

5.  To the other-brother-in-law who advised us, while WE were dealing with a screaming toddler "not to become upset with irrational beings".  You have no children, and so far, no spouse.  Having two dogs does not qualify you to give parenting advice.  Talk to me after you've lived through colic.  AND  mind your own dern business.

If you don't have enough to do, volunteer at a soup kitchen, go door-to-door spreading the gospel, or watch some daytime TV, but unless I ask you, I don't really want to know what you think.  That is all.

* Hopefully, but even after thought, there is a whole lot of "mind your own dern business"

Misty's Shoes

My friend Misty only wears one kind of shoes. Ever. Seriously, I have spent TONS of time with her through teaching and attending the same Sunday School for years, plus we've coordinated Vacation Bible School together for the last two years, so I've had plenty of time to observe what she wears, and the shoes? They never change.

She's a teacher, of young, special needs children, so you would think that she'd have some boring, sensible, supportive shoes, but no, that's not what Misty wears.

She's a softball coaches' wife, so you would think maybe, sometimes, she'd rock some cute little sneakers or athletic shoes. Nah, that's not what Misty wears.

Easter Sunday usually calls for fancy dresses and teetering heels, but not Misty, that's not what she wears.

Hear young son has medical issues with his brain and his heart, so she spends a lot of time in COLD hospitals, so you would think that some warm, comforting shoes would be in order, but that isn't what Misty wears.

Misty ALWAYS wears sandals or flip flops. We live in a warm climate, but it isn't THAT warm year-round. So why? It's as if Misty's toes yearn to be free. It's like her feet need air to breathe and be free from the constraints that the rest of us put on our feet.

And that is so like her. There is great freedom in being Misty's friend. Freedom to say what you really think, without fear of judgement, freedom to laugh and freedom to be goofy whenever the mood strikes. So if you see a lady wearing sandals in January, you might want to be their friend, my flip-flop friend is amazing!

Happily Ever After

Where did we get the idea that getting married = happily ever after?  I blame Disney.  All the movies end after the wedding!  Ariel gets married, the end.  Cinderella - married, the end.  Aladdin and Jasmine tie the knot and boom - movie over.  Same thing in Tangled, Sleeping Beauty, Robin Hood and even Lady and the Tramp (kind of..he gets a collar!)

The fact is, marriage is hard work sometimes.  There is too much to do, and only the two of us to do it, and frequently, we have different ideas of who should do what.  Huge amounts of compromise and forgiveness are needed in any successful marriage.

And I want my kids to know that.  But I don't want to scare or worry them.  How do you do that?

I NEVER saw my parents fight.  In fact, I was in college when I first remember seeing my mom mad enough that she didn't answer my dad when he said "I love you" as he left the house.  I cried all the way back to my college.  I called as soon as I got there and asked my mom if she and daddy were OK.  She sounded confused when she answered yes.  Turns out it was a small argument of no real consequence.

I want my kids to be prepared for the fact that God uses marriage in wonderful ways to get rid of a great deal of our selfishness.  I want them to know that disagreeing doesn't mean that you don't love one another.  I want them to know that sometimes you may go to bed angry.  Some times you might not like each other for a bit, but you can still love each other and work through it.  I want them to not be as bewildered as I felt in the early years of our marriage.  I want them to be better equipped.

But I don't want to try them like adults and reveal to them every discussion that gets heated in our house.  I don't think it is helpful for them to know all the inner workings of our marriage.  Kids need stability, so I don't ever want them to feel that our home isn't solid.  There are so many things that they do have to worry about, homework, bullies and peer pressure are all things they MUST deal with now, and I don't want to add to the stress.

How do you balance educating and equipping versus scaring and stressing?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

My Mind? I Think I Packed That....

So, we're going on "vacation", the Engineer, Hedgehog, Monkey, Handsome, Rascal and me.  The packing and planning, I am good at, I think we have all we will need and we will have a good time once we arrive.  The climate where we are going is a good 20° cooler than where we are now, so I'm excited about that.  However, we are DRIVING.  15+ hours on the way there, and 17+ on the way back.  All of us, in one vehicle.  Yes, I know, that makes me certifiably crazy.  Nuts, nutso, insane, bonkers, unhinged.  I agree!  Pray for me people!

I Am Not Like the Others

Did you like that song on Sesame Street, One of These Things is Not Like the Others?  I used to, until I realized that it was completely talking about me.  My friend Kassidy and I have been talking about that a lot recently.  Whenever she calls, the kids all just go find something to do, cause they know it'll be a while.  We usually talk so long that I have to switch phones, because the battery is dying in the one I'm on.

I used to think that the song only applied with how my family related to me.  I am the one that is not like the others in my family.  Always have been.  Mom used to have to PRY books out of my hands to make me bathe.  Neither of my siblings like to read.  They both smoke and drink and party.  Me?  Well, I have an occasional drink, but even people who love me think of me as uptight and nerdy.  They've both held, and lost dozens of jobs, but I worked my way through college and kept one job after college until I married, and the next job from one week after the wedding until we left the country for the Engineer's job.

But the bigger thing is our differing attitudes towards our parents.  My parents pay my brother's and sister's bills routinely.  I would throw up if my folks had to pay my bills once, much less every single month.  And my siblings seem to believe that they are entitled to this type of treatment.  They seem to think, that my parents should pay for their bills and still give them gifts at holidays and, in my sister's case, raise her children for her.

I don't really fit with the Engineer's family either.  One reason is the physical differences.  I am short.  The Engineer is 6 foot 2, as are both of his brothers, his brother-in-law is 6 foot 7, and two of my sister-in-laws are over 6 foot tall.  The other sister-in-law is at least 4 inches taller than I am.

Also, there is the whole Engineering thing.  The Engineer, one of his brothers, one sister-in-law are all Engineers.  The other brother thought about being an Engineer.  Me?  Well, I like words, but numbers, not so much!

Kassidy has been frustrated with her family and her in-laws lately, too.  Sometimes we'll talk for the first 20 minutes about how nuts our families are, and spend at least the last 5 minutes reassuring one another that we won't become like our families.  I may not be like the others in my family, and I may not be the same as the Engineer's family, but me and Kassidy?  We are the same!

Growing Up

I've seen lots of posts lately about how we know when our kids are growing up, and it happens in the blink of an eye, but what about US?  Are we growing up and maturing and progressing right along with our children?

There are so many of us out there that just aren't growing up.  Failure To Launch on a nationwide scale.  So many people still depending on mom and daddy, or even living on their own but living like children.  So many people living outside of their means to have grown-up toys.  (The above soap-box was free of charge...)

While I was pregnant with Hedgehog, I prayed, and prayed and prayed for her not to be like me.  And God laughed.  She is a mini-me.  She looks JUST like me, and in so many ways, she acts just like me too.  And that frightens me.  I don't want her to have to fight the same demons that I fight.  I don't want her to have the emotional immaturity and social retardation that I struggle with.  I want her to be better.  So, I HAVE to grow myself up.

My growth, like that of my kids, comes in fits and starts.  Sometimes I do better than others.  This weekend, I was proud of myself.  I don't, in my own personality, like big gatherings.  I would rather be with one or two friends.  But this weekend, there were THREE family functions for Engineer's family.  One of them he wouldn't attend, but I needed to be there for all three.  I dreaded it.  I thought of all kinds of excuses not to go. Engineer's family contains some people who cut loose in ways that blow my skirt up, so to speak.

But KNEW that I would eventually enjoy myself.  When my imagination started going overtime, imagining horrible scenarios where people could possibly be unkind, I told myself that was not going to happen.  I pushed past my fatigue and actively loosened up to enjoy spending time with people.  And my kids benefited.  They enjoyed the family and played with all their cousins and even danced in public (which I practically NEVER do).

How do you know that YOU are growing up?

You Can Take a Child to Potty, But You Can't Make Her Pee

So, I like to be the boss.  I am a bit of a control freak.  Once you've read me a while, you will laugh until you cry, and maybe pee just a little, about how big of an understatement that just was.

Hedgehog potty trained just fine.  She was on schedule, and relatively obedient, so I was highly relieved that we had passed this hurdle without too much ado.

However, as a kindergartner, we started having potty issues with her.  She started being afraid of public potties.  She hated automatic flushes, didn't like anything that was not standard white, and if the potty didn't touch the floor, that was a problem too.

We went on a long driving vacation with the mother-in-law, the Belle Mère, and every time we needed to go to a public restroom, I had to drag her, kicking, flailing and screaming into the stall.  There is NO horror quite like feeling you've failed as a parent in front of the mother-in-law.  I held her in my lap and let her pee through my legs on more than one occasion, and had to let her leave the bathroom, not just the stall, before I could flush the potty.

We tried everything.  We tried being tough with her, we tried taking her on a "potty tour", to acquaint her with lots of different kinds of potties, we tried making sure that she pottied before we left the house, and we even tried earmuffs, but the problem persists.  She still hates public potties.  And now, it's not just the look or sound of the potties, when we went to a recent baseball game, she "held it" for 10 1/2 hours because the potties at the M.L.B. park smelled bad!

So many times, I will see a undesirable behavior in someone else's child and think "I wouldn't allow that", but the fact is, there are just a bunch of things in parenting that we can't really control.  There are battles that she will have to fight, that I can't win for her.  Her potty issues, have to be hers, not mine.  This is something that I cannot be the boss of.

What Are We Waiting For?

While we were cleaning out my late grandmother's house (more about that later, maybe, still too painful), my aunt was wearing my grandmother's perfume.  It smelled just like her, and it made me tear up.  When I mentioned it to her, she said "Life's too short to save your good perfume".  That has really stuck with me.

When my mother called to asked if I wanted my late grandmother's china, I asked her "Don't you want it?" and was SHOCKED when she said she had china.  I have never eaten on china at my mother's house, or ever even seen it displayed.

As I cleaned out and reorganized my table linens today, I came across some tea towels my other grandmother embroidered for me for my wedding.  I've never used them, never even had them out in my kitchen.  I put one out today.

While on the phone with a sister-in-law (the Tall One) we were talking about food for an upcoming family event and she mentioned a dish that we both love.  I was so excited to hear that we were having it and she exclaimed "Why do we save all the good recipes for the special occasions?"

It feels like God is trying to tell me something.  This life goes by so quickly, and the time since I had the girls has flown so fast that it makes my head spin, yet, so often I hold back the "great", the "special" and the "expensive" and never enjoy them.  Why do we do this?  I'm going to stop.  So, from here on out, I'm going to eat asparagus sometimes on a yucky Tuesday.  Occasionally, I'm going to break out the china for my family, not just for guests.  And I'm going to smell great!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Today we went to a Major League Baseball game, the nephews, the girls, the Engineer and I.  The last time I went to a MLB game was more than a decade ago.  I was not expecting to enjoy it.  I went just because the Engineer could not take the girls to the restroom and I worry about safety in a place as large as the ballpark.  But, it was just lovely.  We had a great time.  Seriously!  Highlights included:

• we sat in the all-you-can-eat section, so we stuffed ourselves with popcorn, nachos, peanuts, hot dogs and sodas
• we sang "take me out to the ball game"
• we watched the kiss cam
• we were appropriately "into" the game, that our team eventually won, in the bottom of the 11th inning!
• Hedgehog refused to use the "stinky" restrooms, and had to "hold it" all day
• Rascal dumped over and entire soda
• we shelled our peanuts and threw the shells on the floor
• stood and sang the national anthem
• cheered like maniacs at every hit
• took a bazillion pictures

It really wasn't that unusual of a day, for a day at the ballpark.  But, I'm hoping, that today is the kind of thing that they'll remember.  I think, too often, the memories I provide on a day-to-day basis are of me saying:

• pick up your shoes
• keep your hands to yourself
• why are there socks on my couch?
• get your hands out of your mouth
• clean up your mess
• go get a bath
• use our inside voice
• no
• because I said so
• that is not something we cry about
• go get a bath, NOW

And I know, that these things are necessary to raise adults that have clean houses, good manners, good hygiene, etc., but I really hope, and really pray, that when they are grown, they'll remember that I tried to have fun with them too.  I hope they'll look back and realize that I wanted to enjoy them, and not just raise them.  And I hope that I'll be mindful enough to enjoy them, not just raise them.

Over the Baby Blues

One of my sisters-in-law (The Coach) and her husband (The Bald Coach) have just had a baby.  She's a gorgeous, fat, smiley baby and I adore my newest little niece.  During family vacation, I walked and bounced and cooed with and over her little 1-month-old self.  And when she cried for too long, I handed her back to her parents with a smile.  It hasn't always been so simple with me and babies.

On the one hand, my babies nearly killed me.  Both of them had colic, so the Engineer would come home to me crying along with our baby.  With Monkey, it was worse, a crying mommy, toddler and baby.  And then, after she outgrew colic, she started having ear infections, like every 2 weeks.  It was a miserable time It is a wonder the poor Engineer didn't run for the hills when they were babies.  He slept many a night on our couch with an infant on his chest, just to give me a few hours of rest.

BUT, both Hedgehog and Monkey are girls.  Lovely, frilly, sparkly little girls, and I had always wanted boys.  Little miniature Engineers to carry on the family name.  I had visions of the Engineer playing catch with him in the front yard, and thought about them hunting and fishing together.  But, you can't just put in an order for a boy baby, and we didn't want to keep trying indefinitely, so I got my tubes tied after Monkey.

Some time during my sleep deprived, crying baby Monkey fog, Jeff said to one of the in-laws that we'd just adopt if we wanted a boy.  I latched on to the idea like a drowning person grabs on to a boat.  And for another year, I dreamed of going and picking me out a little boy to take home with us.  The in-laws weren't excited and even my own parents had some pretty old-school ideas about adoption.  So, we both prayed, and I was sure I would be able to pray the Engineer into going along with my plan.  God, and the Engineer, however, were not on board. 

And I was MAD.  I could not fathom why the answer was no.  It felt as if God and the Engineer were being unloving by denying me a son.  Every friend who had a new son was a fresh pain in my heart.  Being happy for pregnant friends was difficult for me.

Much, much later, my sister got a divorce.  And her substance abuse problem resurfaced.  And my nephews went to live with my parents.  The nephews now spend most of their school holidays at our house.  And I thank God that we didn't adopt, that we have a spare room in our house for these two little guys, who look nothing like the Engineer but that we have the privilege of helping to grow up.

So now, babies make me happy again.  I can trust God a tiny bit more, now that I can see that the "no" was just part of the plan.  I don't need a baby any more to convince me that I am loved.