Today my baby turns 19. She is young and brave and intelligent. That she loves me and still calls me Mommy melts my forty-three-year-old heart as few things do. It is a joy to be her mother.
Boy just recorded his third music CD. He is talented, friendly, strong of heart and mind. He is aware of his super powers and has assured me that he uses them for good not for evil.
In a few months, my Beloved and I will celebrate twenty-four years of marriage. I cannot image what my life would be without him...so we've decided to die at exactly the same moment. Life without the other will not be worth living. Exactly how we will accomplish this hasn't exactly been decided, but I saw the movie, The Notebook, and figure if they can do it, so can we.
This month marks the 1st anniversary of owning our little green house on the corner. I am so happy here and so thankful that God gave us this little slice of heaven on earth.
I have a great job and I work with great people. Beloved is employed and the kids are doing well.
It's a beautiful, beautiful life.
Showing posts with label Daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daughter. Show all posts
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
A Letter to my Little One
I know, I know, I know, you are not a little girl. I know. I've seen your shoe size! No little girl could consume the amount of coffee that you do and live. Small girls do not have hundreds of friends on Facebook and they certainly don't own a pair of man hooking shoes as you do.
I get it.
Even though you are tall and lean and own college books and made the Presidents list throughout school last year, you will always be my little girl.
Anyway, this post is not about you being your Mommy's little girl. This post is about you being Daddy's little girl.
It's an entirely different subject.
Before I go too far, you need to realize my darling daughter, that your Father use to be a young man. He use to have a motorcycle. He drove his camaro too fast. He used his powers for evil, instead of good...if you get my meaning. Back in the day, your father...well, he was a bad boy. Not "jail" bad boy, but bad enough that all my friends thought I was crazy to go out with him.
And you know how Grandma and Grandpa felt about my marrying him!
With that in mind, I think you'll kind of understand why he gets a little nervous when you say that you might travel to India or England or Russia or anywhere he can't drive to. It's hard for him to let you grow up. After all, he has spent all these years protecting you.
Daddies are funny that way.
This trip that you are considering will be difficult for your Father to grasp. It's a big, scary world out there full of bad men.
Human trafficking
Marketplace Bombs
Earthquakes
Terrorists
Tidal Waves
Good looking young men who speak a foreign language.
I think you get my point. When you say India all Daddy hears is
"Kidnapping of blond American under investigation," report at 11:00
If you mention Russia, Daddy's mind screams:
"Blond American woman, age 19, sold into human trafficking ring." News at 11:00
And you know it's true. The world is a dark, tragic place full of despair and mayhem.
But it's also a place of beauty and wonder. There are sites to see and new people to meet. You are at an age when you should have new experiences. You should follow God's leading. You should make your own decisions.
I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful and I'm certainly not saying that you shouldn't consider Daddy's opinion. What I am saying is that you should GO!
GO! See the world.
GO! Meet new people.
GO! Learn new things.
Now is the time!
And please don't worry about Daddy. I'll take care of him.
After all, we girls gotta stick together, but don't think I won't miss you. Don't think my mind doesn't scream a bit too. It's just that this window of opportunity is short and I don't want you to wonder what if. I don't want you to ever feel like you missed out or that we held you back.
So GO! FIGHT! WIN! and call me when you get back dahling!
I get it.
Even though you are tall and lean and own college books and made the Presidents list throughout school last year, you will always be my little girl.
It's an entirely different subject.
Before I go too far, you need to realize my darling daughter, that your Father use to be a young man. He use to have a motorcycle. He drove his camaro too fast. He used his powers for evil, instead of good...if you get my meaning. Back in the day, your father...well, he was a bad boy. Not "jail" bad boy, but bad enough that all my friends thought I was crazy to go out with him.
And you know how Grandma and Grandpa felt about my marrying him!
With that in mind, I think you'll kind of understand why he gets a little nervous when you say that you might travel to India or England or Russia or anywhere he can't drive to. It's hard for him to let you grow up. After all, he has spent all these years protecting you.
Daddies are funny that way.
This trip that you are considering will be difficult for your Father to grasp. It's a big, scary world out there full of bad men.
Human trafficking
Marketplace Bombs
Earthquakes
Terrorists
Tidal Waves
Good looking young men who speak a foreign language.
I think you get my point. When you say India all Daddy hears is
"Kidnapping of blond American under investigation," report at 11:00
If you mention Russia, Daddy's mind screams:
"Blond American woman, age 19, sold into human trafficking ring." News at 11:00
And you know it's true. The world is a dark, tragic place full of despair and mayhem.
But it's also a place of beauty and wonder. There are sites to see and new people to meet. You are at an age when you should have new experiences. You should follow God's leading. You should make your own decisions.
I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful and I'm certainly not saying that you shouldn't consider Daddy's opinion. What I am saying is that you should GO!
GO! See the world.
GO! Meet new people.
GO! Learn new things.
Now is the time!
And please don't worry about Daddy. I'll take care of him.
After all, we girls gotta stick together, but don't think I won't miss you. Don't think my mind doesn't scream a bit too. It's just that this window of opportunity is short and I don't want you to wonder what if. I don't want you to ever feel like you missed out or that we held you back.
So GO! FIGHT! WIN! and call me when you get back dahling!
Sunday, May 08, 2011
The Fight
For the most part, we get along like two peas in a pod.
Like two cats outta the same bag.
Like two humps on a camel.
Birds of a feather.
You get my point.
Girl is attending our local Jr. college with her eye on a aviation degree.
She r smart.
She earned a spot on the Presidents List for winter term.
Her r sooper smart.
But recently we discovered that there is a step in her development that we missed.
We've never had The Fight.
This was brought to Girl's attention by a classmate who was grumbling about her own mother. She told Girl she thought it might be time for her to have The Fight with her mother. Girl, bless her little innocent soul, blinked at her classmate and asked what The Fight was.
Classmate looked at her in a bewildered way and smirked, "The fight is the daughter asserting her independence and the mother being an over-controlling troll..."
Or something to that affect.
When Girl informed me that we hadn't had "The Fight" I had to ask girl for the definition because I didn't know what it meant. We had a good chuckle over it, because we've never had The Fight and we don't intend to.
Of course, I had The Fight with my own mother, but that wasn't until I was 36.
Sad
Sad
Sad
At any rate, I am happy to report that neither of us is interested in having The Fight. I'll let her fly, literally, and she won't hate my guts for eternity.
Sounds like a fair trade, don't you think?
Happy Mother's Day!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Daddy Get Your Gun
Her time was monopolized by a young man named Cole, or Chip, or something else that starts with a C.
He was not the young man we delayed our departure for.
He was just some other random guy who ended his conversation with, "Are you coming to the Ball in March? Okay, then I know how to find you."
Girl was like, "Whatever. Why are boys so weird?"
She doesn't get it.
But I guess that's a good thing. That she doesn't get it. She isn't vain. Or proud. Or too sexy for her shirt.
She's just girl. With blondie hair. And a dimple. And a cute figure. And...
Needless to say, Beloved knows how to handle it and he now has a better understanding of why my father didn't like him when we were dating.
They grow up so fast, don't they?
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Leaving on a Jet Plane
I left him at the airport at 5:30 this morning. I just want to state for the record that I did not cry. Not even a little. I know, it shocked me too.
It's not like it's a big deal. After all, he is twenty. He's flown before and he is simply returning to Idaho.
Yet, it's not really that simple.
Tuesday he leaves for India.
...
He'll be off continent for ten weeks. During that time he'll be practicing all the things he's learned in Idaho. He's in for the experience of a lifetime.
This trip will be so much different from the one he took to Prague back when he was sixteen. You may remember what a mess I was during those two weeks. I wasn't prepared for the worry and anxiety of not being able to fix any problem that came up, but he's older this time. He has more life experience under his belt.
He can drive.
He's a man.
Still, all I see is an eight-year-old who wants to build a fort in our front pasture and shoot his buddy with an airsoft pistol.
Before we left the airport, at the ungodly hour of 6:00am, we grabbed some coffee (yes, I made an exception and drank some - yum!). As we sat sipping our delightfully sweet brew another family sat at a table across from us with their twenty something year old son.
Only he was in uniform.
The soldier's mom and I made eye contact and I realized that we are both sending our sons off to somewhere scary. Yet, we both wore brave faces, void of the concern that squeezed our hearts.
Perhaps she sending her son off to some place hot and sandy. A place filled with roadside bombs and snipers. Her son is a soldier, serving his country.
I am sending my son off to fulfill his calling, in a place that may or may not be dangerous. India has its share of market place bombs, deadly bacteria, and various other scary things. My son is a soldier for the Lord.
We mom's are funny creatures. We are so proud of the men (and women) our children become and yet we cling to a past when they needed us. Sigh.
My boy is prepared for new situations and has made good decisions in the past. I know he'll be fine, but ten weeks is a mighty long time. I can only imagine when the Soldier's mom from the airport will lay eyes on her little boy again.
It's tough letting them grow up, biting your tongue so that you don't remind them to do some trivial piece of business they already took care of. It's hard to not help them pack, or ask them if they have their passport, or their ticket. After all, they aren't stupid.
Boy has already landed in Idaho. In forty-eight hours he'll be on that plane heading farther than he's ever been from home. I don't know when I'll hear from him. I don't know how he'll do laundry, or what he'll eat. I just know he'll be okay.
Right?
Girl announced that maybe she'll do a DTS with YWAM in the future. She'd like to travel and serve too.
My heart stopped then.
But it was okay, because she's only three-years-old and I don't think you can leave the continent when you are that young.
Whew!
It's not like it's a big deal. After all, he is twenty. He's flown before and he is simply returning to Idaho.
Yet, it's not really that simple.
Tuesday he leaves for India.
...
He'll be off continent for ten weeks. During that time he'll be practicing all the things he's learned in Idaho. He's in for the experience of a lifetime.
This trip will be so much different from the one he took to Prague back when he was sixteen. You may remember what a mess I was during those two weeks. I wasn't prepared for the worry and anxiety of not being able to fix any problem that came up, but he's older this time. He has more life experience under his belt.
He can drive.
He's a man.
Still, all I see is an eight-year-old who wants to build a fort in our front pasture and shoot his buddy with an airsoft pistol.
Before we left the airport, at the ungodly hour of 6:00am, we grabbed some coffee (yes, I made an exception and drank some - yum!). As we sat sipping our delightfully sweet brew another family sat at a table across from us with their twenty something year old son.
Only he was in uniform.
The soldier's mom and I made eye contact and I realized that we are both sending our sons off to somewhere scary. Yet, we both wore brave faces, void of the concern that squeezed our hearts.
Perhaps she sending her son off to some place hot and sandy. A place filled with roadside bombs and snipers. Her son is a soldier, serving his country.
I am sending my son off to fulfill his calling, in a place that may or may not be dangerous. India has its share of market place bombs, deadly bacteria, and various other scary things. My son is a soldier for the Lord.
We mom's are funny creatures. We are so proud of the men (and women) our children become and yet we cling to a past when they needed us. Sigh.
My boy is prepared for new situations and has made good decisions in the past. I know he'll be fine, but ten weeks is a mighty long time. I can only imagine when the Soldier's mom from the airport will lay eyes on her little boy again.
It's tough letting them grow up, biting your tongue so that you don't remind them to do some trivial piece of business they already took care of. It's hard to not help them pack, or ask them if they have their passport, or their ticket. After all, they aren't stupid.
Boy has already landed in Idaho. In forty-eight hours he'll be on that plane heading farther than he's ever been from home. I don't know when I'll hear from him. I don't know how he'll do laundry, or what he'll eat. I just know he'll be okay.
Right?
Girl announced that maybe she'll do a DTS with YWAM in the future. She'd like to travel and serve too.
My heart stopped then.
But it was okay, because she's only three-years-old and I don't think you can leave the continent when you are that young.
Whew!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Idiot Girl Moment Number 215
I'm just sayin'.
Today, I dropped my little girl off at the local Jr. college so she could take her placement test. Then I drove about four minutes away to the local mall to kill two hours. Little Girl is ssoooo smart that she whipped right through that test in 1.25 hours. She sent me a txt and I was on my way.
If yourJr. college is like our Jr. college than you know there is NO parking.
None
Nada
Really? Don't they pay folks to figure these things out?
Just askin'.
So, anyway, I arrive at the school and txt Little Girl that I am waiting.
No response
I txt her again and tell her where I am waiting...remember there is NO parking to be had.
No response
At this point a few minutes have passed and I'm getting pretty annoyed. I txt Little Girl AGAIN and then I call her.
Voicemail...
I call her again
and again
and again
and still she doesn't answer her phone.
I phone her again, leaving her a message this time and telling her that I am looking for a place to park and I'm coming in.
But I cannot find a place to park!
So, I call her again....and again...and again....
and leave the following voicemail:
"OH MY GOD WHERE ARE YOU?"
At this point I am on the verge of hysterics. I am certain, down to the core of my being, that someone has absconded with my little blonde girl.
I'm just getting ready to throw the car in park and run RUN into building number nine when who comes sauntering out the door, but my little, blonde, carefree, girl.
She opens the car door and I nearly scream at here saying, "Where have you been!!!!!!!!!"
Ahem...I need a moment...
It turns out that her cell phone did not pick up any of those calls or txts. She was waiting the entire time but couldn't see me from her vantage point.
She was trying not to laugh and I told her it wasn't funny. NOT. ONE. BIT.
I just knew one of those perverts, creeper, stalker, deadbeats had knocked her on the head and carried her off.
Hours later, it's kinda funny.
Kinda.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Random Update
I'm just sayin'!
I baked her a cheesecake. I brought her flowers. I was present in the car when we passed some dude picking something up out of the middle of the road. Something...dead...
Seriously, the dude picked up a dead squirrel by its tail.
Hope I didn't just ruin your breakfast or lunch.
Girl is in a holding pattern, waiting for school at winter term. She's working on that ol' drivers license and she just picked up a CLEP book and more music for her piano. Girl applied for a job...but hasn't heard back. When I suggested she phone them this week and just "check in" she cringed. Ahh, to be 18 again.
We are set to move into our new house (house!) at the end of the month. I am still appalled at the amount of junk we have. Seriously. It's ridiculous. We've made two trips to the Mission and friends of ours (hi Red!) came and loaded up our junk and took it to the dump. Yet, we still have junk! Eesssh!
Boy is doing swimmingly in Idaho. He requested that we send him some warmer clothes....and his capo....and his guitar tuner...and his harmonicas...and allergy meds...and snacks...but it was okay if we didn't send the snacks...
Yeah
So I mailed him what he requested and some gummy worms, crackers, nuts, craisins, tea, and a couple candy bars.
I didn't have time to bake or I would have sent that too.
And I'm still thinking about kicking that running idea into higher gear.
And I bought a red chair.
And a cool picture.
All for the new house.
And I dream of paint and hardwood floors.
And a mortgage payment...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sand in my Shoes
Girl is home for the week. Originally, I had taken the entire week off as well, however the surprise we're now purchasing a home popped up, so I decided to just take a few days. We had to change our plans of staying over a few nights. First we decided to stay one night, instead of two. Then I had to tell Girl we couldn't stay over at all.
Sorry Girl!
Instead, she and I went for the day. It was a great day!
Highlights of our trip included:
Freezing on the beach as the cold Oregon wind beat down upon us.
Driving 20 miles just to find a Dutch Bros.
Walking past a dead seal and not realizing it until we retraced our steps.
Talking, talking, talking.
Realizing the water was warm, then cold and spending on hour on the beach.
Eating at Mo's and listening to the Grandma type lady next to us nag her grandsons.
Photographing Girl posing as King of the woorrrlllddd!
I'm so glad we had the chance to get away. This house business is so stressful. SO.STRESSFUL.
We took Girl over to the house so she could see that it wasn't the shack she thought it might be. It was better than she thought it would be, whatever that means. But we learned some things in the disclosure of the seller that made Marisa the Marvelous, Beloved, and I scratch our heads.
Is there trouble on the horizon?
I admit, I'm getting cold feet. I'm worried about the house being a money pit. I'm worried the short sale bank will say, "NO!" to our offer. I'm worried we won't get it. I'm worried we will.
It's a lot to deal with and I don't mean to whine, but I guess I already did.
I wish I was back at the beach, sand in my shoes, sun on my face, wind chilling me to the bone, and no worries in sight.
Sorry Girl!
Instead, she and I went for the day. It was a great day!
Highlights of our trip included:
Freezing on the beach as the cold Oregon wind beat down upon us.
Driving 20 miles just to find a Dutch Bros.
Walking past a dead seal and not realizing it until we retraced our steps.
Talking, talking, talking.
Realizing the water was warm, then cold and spending on hour on the beach.
Eating at Mo's and listening to the Grandma type lady next to us nag her grandsons.
Photographing Girl posing as King of the woorrrlllddd!
I'm so glad we had the chance to get away. This house business is so stressful. SO.STRESSFUL.
We took Girl over to the house so she could see that it wasn't the shack she thought it might be. It was better than she thought it would be, whatever that means. But we learned some things in the disclosure of the seller that made Marisa the Marvelous, Beloved, and I scratch our heads.
Is there trouble on the horizon?
I admit, I'm getting cold feet. I'm worried about the house being a money pit. I'm worried the short sale bank will say, "NO!" to our offer. I'm worried we won't get it. I'm worried we will.
It's a lot to deal with and I don't mean to whine, but I guess I already did.
I wish I was back at the beach, sand in my shoes, sun on my face, wind chilling me to the bone, and no worries in sight.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Do You Know Where YOUR Underwear Is?
I faithfully returned Girl to camp last night. I hate returning Girl to camp. But I have to admit that she has come home with some funny stories. Such as the story about how Boy, who is her boss at camp, told one of his roommates, who also works at camp, that he is not allowed to talk to Girl...ever...
Roomie quickly beat a path to Girl and tattled on Boy.
Girl looked at Roomie kinda funny and said, "Why?"
Roomie had no answer.
As Girl retold the story to me she laughed and said, "If Brother is worried about that guy he shouldn't. He's as tall as a hobbit! ha ha ha ha ha..."
Girl is rather tall. Much taller than Roomie. She doesn't find him attractive. At. All.
I didn't ask her about the other roomie...you know...the cute one...
Girl also explained how every afternoon, after the day campers leave, the staff cleans up. This includes the bath house. She complained about what a disaster it is. Girl cannot believe anyone could be so messy. I quietly peaked into Girls room....I think she's growing corn...
Anyway, Girl exclaimed, "Every single day we find some kids underwear! I mean COME ON! Underwear! You had it on when you arrived and changed in to your swimming suit! How can you forget your underwear!"
I tried to defend the poor little campers by explaining that they are little and little kids forget things.
"MOM! It's underwear! You do NOT forget your underwear!"
Let that be a lesson to you!
Now, if only she were home, I might not have forgotten to put actual coffee into the liner. As of this exact minute I have brewed a lovely pot of hot water, sans coffee.
I guess I better check and make sure I've got my underwear!
Roomie quickly beat a path to Girl and tattled on Boy.
Girl looked at Roomie kinda funny and said, "Why?"
Roomie had no answer.
As Girl retold the story to me she laughed and said, "If Brother is worried about that guy he shouldn't. He's as tall as a hobbit! ha ha ha ha ha..."
Girl is rather tall. Much taller than Roomie. She doesn't find him attractive. At. All.
I didn't ask her about the other roomie...you know...the cute one...
Girl also explained how every afternoon, after the day campers leave, the staff cleans up. This includes the bath house. She complained about what a disaster it is. Girl cannot believe anyone could be so messy. I quietly peaked into Girls room....I think she's growing corn...
Anyway, Girl exclaimed, "Every single day we find some kids underwear! I mean COME ON! Underwear! You had it on when you arrived and changed in to your swimming suit! How can you forget your underwear!"
I tried to defend the poor little campers by explaining that they are little and little kids forget things.
"MOM! It's underwear! You do NOT forget your underwear!"
Let that be a lesson to you!
Now, if only she were home, I might not have forgotten to put actual coffee into the liner. As of this exact minute I have brewed a lovely pot of hot water, sans coffee.
I guess I better check and make sure I've got my underwear!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Saturday - Woot!
It's Saturday! Delicious, wonderful, GIRL filled, Saturday! I am loving me some weekend!
Woot!!!!!!
But wait, what about Friday?
See, Beloved and I have beentrapped busy here in the house. FIL still needs so much and we feel guilty, just a wee bit guilty for leaving him alone for too long. With both of us working and Girl out of the picture, he's alone a lot more. Of course, he can do a lot more, but hours and hours of being alone and not being able to carry his own glass of apple juice while holding on to the walker does make things difficult.
And just so you know, when I said I was growing bitter about the lack of help, I was not referring to my Girl. She is the bomb and more helpful than any other!
Last night as I walked in the door, I told Beloved that I needed TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE BEFORE MY EVAH LOVIN' HEAD EXPLODES.
Or something along those lines.
We tucked FIL in for the night and told him that we were going OUT.
OUT!!!!
And so we did. We decided on a late dinner and a late movie. It's the only time we can ever find these days; late.
There was only one problem with late.
After dinner...we were tired. We decided that spending $20 on a movie we might sleep through seemed a bit wasteful. Instead we came home and watched the first episode of Chuck, all snuggly on the sofa in our PJ's.
It was almost truly like a date because FIL was sound asleep and we never heard a peep from him. Why, he was even quiet this morning as we slept in LATE. Ha!
Today, is my Girl day. She's home for an entire twenty-four hours and I'm going to embrace all the Girl time I can before she returns to work tomorrow.
Dutch Bros - check
Chick flicks - check
Funny camp stories - check
Seeing her purity hazel colored eyes - awesome!
Saturday! WOOT!
Woot!!!!!!
But wait, what about Friday?
See, Beloved and I have been
And just so you know, when I said I was growing bitter about the lack of help, I was not referring to my Girl. She is the bomb and more helpful than any other!
Last night as I walked in the door, I told Beloved that I needed TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE BEFORE MY EVAH LOVIN' HEAD EXPLODES.
Or something along those lines.
We tucked FIL in for the night and told him that we were going OUT.
OUT!!!!
And so we did. We decided on a late dinner and a late movie. It's the only time we can ever find these days; late.
There was only one problem with late.
After dinner...we were tired. We decided that spending $20 on a movie we might sleep through seemed a bit wasteful. Instead we came home and watched the first episode of Chuck, all snuggly on the sofa in our PJ's.
It was almost truly like a date because FIL was sound asleep and we never heard a peep from him. Why, he was even quiet this morning as we slept in LATE. Ha!
Today, is my Girl day. She's home for an entire twenty-four hours and I'm going to embrace all the Girl time I can before she returns to work tomorrow.
Dutch Bros - check
Chick flicks - check
Funny camp stories - check
Seeing her purity hazel colored eyes - awesome!
Saturday! WOOT!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wait...Who Am I?
Good things happen to those who wait. On Wednesday I took FIL to the doctor who told him that he could WALK. Yes, walk. Walk here. Walk there. Walk everywhere!
Until then I leave you with a couple of graduation shots.
Huzzah!
The birds sang! The sky opened up and the sun smiled upon us!
So, he can walk, but it's going to take time to get back on his feet, if you catch my drift.
I'm still cooking for him. Still doing his housework, his laundry, his errands. Still jumping up at a moments notice to rush up and see what he needs.
The birds aren't singing nearly as brightly as they were before.
Don't get me wrong, it's all good. There is a light. A light I say! But it still seems so far away and out of reach.
This week has been very difficult because Girl is gone too. I miss her. I miss her laughter and goofiness. I miss the piano. I miss...sigh...
All that and I miss the extra pair of hands who use to help me out. Now it's all Annie, all the time. Except when I'm at work.
I'm growing pretty bitter about the lack of help. I'm just sayin'.
The Sandwich Generation is what they call us now. You know, those of us who have young adult children and are caring for an elderly parent.
I've never really liked sandwiches. That and I'm having a bit of an identity crisis.
It all started when I didn't wear a "dress" to Girl's graduation.
Shocking I know.
But....in my defense...I'm not that person any more. Or maybe it's that I don't want to be that person. Maybe I want to be someone else.
I don't really know who...
I guess I'm up for an adventure but I don't know where to find it and I'm not that daring and Beloved is kinda tired out from his new job.
There has got to be more to life than cooking and cleaning and working.
Suggestions?
Until then I leave you with a couple of graduation shots.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Done!
Yesterday it happened.
It became official.
I am no longer a HOMESCHOOLING MOMMY.
Now, some of you may remember that I was the co-owner of a business called Homeschooling Mommies. It was a grand little book business and sometimes I miss it. You know, the part about being my own boss - 'cept when Kat would boss me around, traveling - Oahu! How I miss you!, and being famous - was too! Just ask the ladies who accosted me in the parking lot and grocery stores!
But I'm not talking about that.
My baby graduated yesterday.
All done!
NO more math!
NO more screaming, "Get you butt out of bed! You have school today!"
NO more planning.
NO more grading.
NO more pressure to keep up with the other homeschoolers.
Done!
done....
all done...
sniffle
It became official.
I am no longer a HOMESCHOOLING MOMMY.
Now, some of you may remember that I was the co-owner of a business called Homeschooling Mommies. It was a grand little book business and sometimes I miss it. You know, the part about being my own boss - 'cept when Kat would boss me around, traveling - Oahu! How I miss you!, and being famous - was too! Just ask the ladies who accosted me in the parking lot and grocery stores!
But I'm not talking about that.
My baby graduated yesterday.
All done!
NO more math!
NO more screaming, "Get you butt out of bed! You have school today!"
NO more planning.
NO more grading.
NO more pressure to keep up with the other homeschoolers.
Done!
done....
all done...
sniffle
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Who is This?
A man walked into my house last night. He called my mom. I know he belongs to us because he looks so much like me, he has Beloved's sky blue eyes, and he headed for the fridge.
It never fails to amaze me how much Boy has changed. I suppose being twenty will do that. Well, and getting a haircut. When he took off his hat Girl told him his hair looked good. He then made a quirky comment about keeping the hat on so he doesn't have to fight off the women.
He played his new songs for us and I watched his hands become masterful as he strummed his guitar. Are those my boy's hands?
I noted that he just might be taller than his father.
He's sleeping now.
WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP
It is a constant struggle to not behave in an overbearing way. Yes, it is. I don't want to be a Smother. I just want to spend every.single.moment with him. Is that too much to ask?
I suppose it is. That's the bitter pill of watching your children grow up.
He has his work, his school, his friends and it's all a good thing. He isn't living at home, playing video games all day.
This will be a great weekend because soon summer will start and both Boy and Girl will be gone.
I don't think I'm ready.
It never fails to amaze me how much Boy has changed. I suppose being twenty will do that. Well, and getting a haircut. When he took off his hat Girl told him his hair looked good. He then made a quirky comment about keeping the hat on so he doesn't have to fight off the women.
He played his new songs for us and I watched his hands become masterful as he strummed his guitar. Are those my boy's hands?
I noted that he just might be taller than his father.
He's sleeping now.
WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP
It is a constant struggle to not behave in an overbearing way. Yes, it is. I don't want to be a Smother. I just want to spend every.single.moment with him. Is that too much to ask?
I suppose it is. That's the bitter pill of watching your children grow up.
He has his work, his school, his friends and it's all a good thing. He isn't living at home, playing video games all day.
This will be a great weekend because soon summer will start and both Boy and Girl will be gone.
I don't think I'm ready.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Counting Down
We are a few weeks from graduation. I am scrambling to get things finished before I leave for the South. FIL is home from the hospital and firmly entrenched in his hospital bed in the back bedroom. I feel a wee bit like a spinning top, but things are slowly getting finished...except my packing.
Last weekend Girl attended the Jr/Sr Formal. She was lovely. Simply lovely. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
I wondered, and still do, how she got from this: 
to this:
This little girl of mine has been so helpful with FIL. Yesterday, for instance, while both Beloved and I were at work, she cared for FIL. Still more than that, she sat up there in that little room, watched movies with him, read to him, and kept him entertained.
This morning FIL gushed about her, and he's not a gusher. Ever.
One month from now my little girl will graduate. If things workout, she'll be gone most of the summer working as a counselor at the same camp Boy works at.
Her mother is counting down the days with mixed emotions.
There are days that I feel so unprepared for the future. It's a future that leaves our second bedroom without a teenager. It will feel like I'm losing my left hand. All that bunk about Beloved and I hangin' out and doin' our own thing...yeah...none of that will happen because we will be the caregivers of FIL forever.
There are days that I feel so unprepared for the future. It's a future that leaves our second bedroom without a teenager. It will feel like I'm losing my left hand. All that bunk about Beloved and I hangin' out and doin' our own thing...yeah...none of that will happen because we will be the caregivers of FIL forever.
And that sounds so dang mean.
I wouldn't take these moments from Girl, not a bit of it, but I hate this dreadful feeling that is growing in my heart. My nest is one step closer to empty and I don't want it to be.
Stamps foot. Clenches fists. Throws fit.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Dog Jack and the Tragic End of Floppy Baby
She was small and pretty and pink. When you held her close, her soft baby fragrance would surround you and remind you of all things good and decent in the world. Those cornflower blue eyes of hers were content to rest upon whatever was in front of her. She never made a fuss.
When we moved to the farm, she was just shy of being three-years-old. Still small and pink, but not quiet as clean, she was always ready for an adventure. Many a day would find her laying on her back, staring up at cotton white clouds. She loved to ride in the Radio Flyer wagon and was keen on fort building.
In my minds eye, I could see her tagging along to the barn when she was older. I simply knew that she would be a part of our lives forever. When tragedy struck, I was utterly unprepared for the carnage.
The morning air was warm and fragrant with lilac, as I stepped onto the front porch on my way to fetch the morning paper. A small bit of white fluff caught my eye and as I stooped down to pick it up, I noticed that there were bits of white fluff everywhere. Looking around I was stumped as to where all this white stuffing had come from.
Then I saw it.
Laying half hidden by the leaves of a Rhododendron was Floppy Baby, my daughters long time companion and toy dolly. Her blue eyes stared unblinking at the red flowers perched above her head. Her body was void stuffing and her right arm was no where to be found.
A gasp escaped my lips and I clutched her to my chest. How would I break the news to my daughter? Images of sorrow danced before my eyes as I quickly scooped up the evidence of the massacre.
Our German Shepherd, Jack, slunk around the side of the house, realized that he would be fingered for the crime, and quickly exited the scene, leaving me to break the heartbreaking news of Floppy Baby's demise to my five-year-old daughter.
I hid the remnants of Floppy Baby in a plastic bag then pulled my daughter onto my lap. I quietly explained to her that Floppy Baby had been left outside and that Jack must have found her. I swallowed the emotions that threatened to escape and admitted that she had been torn to pieces and waited for the flood of tears that was sure to follow.
Only, no tears appeared.
My daughter asked if she could see what was left of Floppy Baby, shrugged her shoulders, and asked if she could go outside and play.
I was baffled. Where were the tears, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth? Why was I more upset about Floppy Baby's horrible death than my daughter was?
To this day, I still don't know why my Girl lacked so much emotion regarding what I had supposed to be her favorite toy. For myself, I have been unable to rid myself of those images of white stuffing littering the driveway and the guilty look on Jack's muzzle. It's been twelve years and I may never recover.
Later that afternoon, Girl came in carrying Floppy Baby's arm and proudly proclaimed that she'd found it's partially chewed remains in the upper yard.
Oh, the inhumanity of it!
When we moved to the farm, she was just shy of being three-years-old. Still small and pink, but not quiet as clean, she was always ready for an adventure. Many a day would find her laying on her back, staring up at cotton white clouds. She loved to ride in the Radio Flyer wagon and was keen on fort building.
In my minds eye, I could see her tagging along to the barn when she was older. I simply knew that she would be a part of our lives forever. When tragedy struck, I was utterly unprepared for the carnage.
The morning air was warm and fragrant with lilac, as I stepped onto the front porch on my way to fetch the morning paper. A small bit of white fluff caught my eye and as I stooped down to pick it up, I noticed that there were bits of white fluff everywhere. Looking around I was stumped as to where all this white stuffing had come from.
Then I saw it.
Laying half hidden by the leaves of a Rhododendron was Floppy Baby, my daughters long time companion and toy dolly. Her blue eyes stared unblinking at the red flowers perched above her head. Her body was void stuffing and her right arm was no where to be found.
A gasp escaped my lips and I clutched her to my chest. How would I break the news to my daughter? Images of sorrow danced before my eyes as I quickly scooped up the evidence of the massacre.
Our German Shepherd, Jack, slunk around the side of the house, realized that he would be fingered for the crime, and quickly exited the scene, leaving me to break the heartbreaking news of Floppy Baby's demise to my five-year-old daughter.
I hid the remnants of Floppy Baby in a plastic bag then pulled my daughter onto my lap. I quietly explained to her that Floppy Baby had been left outside and that Jack must have found her. I swallowed the emotions that threatened to escape and admitted that she had been torn to pieces and waited for the flood of tears that was sure to follow.
Only, no tears appeared.
My daughter asked if she could see what was left of Floppy Baby, shrugged her shoulders, and asked if she could go outside and play.
I was baffled. Where were the tears, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth? Why was I more upset about Floppy Baby's horrible death than my daughter was?
To this day, I still don't know why my Girl lacked so much emotion regarding what I had supposed to be her favorite toy. For myself, I have been unable to rid myself of those images of white stuffing littering the driveway and the guilty look on Jack's muzzle. It's been twelve years and I may never recover.
Later that afternoon, Girl came in carrying Floppy Baby's arm and proudly proclaimed that she'd found it's partially chewed remains in the upper yard.
Oh, the inhumanity of it!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Girls Just Want to Have Fun - Part Two
Fun was had by Girl and I.
Fun in the form of breakfast at a local restaurant. Fun in the form of shopping for the perfect formal. When I say perfect I mean less than $200.00 and is perfect for Girl. Those are hard to find, in case you didn't know.
However we had a visit from the dress fairy. Okay, she's really not a fairy, but she did have the inside scoop on the most beautiful dress for girl. We stopped by Nan's Glad Rags - funny name, I know, but the treasures this little resale boutique held were amazing.
And hanging on the wall, for all to see, was my Girl's dress.
It was perfect.
The perfect color.
The perfect length.
The prefect fit.
I teared up the minute she stepped out of the dressing room.
"It's perfect!" I gushed.
And so it was.
The price for this amazing bit of tulle and sequins? I mere $49.99.
GASP!
The rest of the afternoon was spent in giddy girlie gladness. We were pathetic. Truly, pathetic. Every time we looked at each other we giggled. We smiled. Frankly, it was a little sickening and I don't know how Beloved managed to keep his dinner down.
Now all we have to do is buy the shoes, make the graduation announcements, pull together the entire ceremony, plan her party, take her senior photos and survive the day itself.
All of which is really small potatoes now that we've found the gown.
Pictures to follow.
I promise!
Fun in the form of breakfast at a local restaurant. Fun in the form of shopping for the perfect formal. When I say perfect I mean less than $200.00 and is perfect for Girl. Those are hard to find, in case you didn't know.
However we had a visit from the dress fairy. Okay, she's really not a fairy, but she did have the inside scoop on the most beautiful dress for girl. We stopped by Nan's Glad Rags - funny name, I know, but the treasures this little resale boutique held were amazing.
And hanging on the wall, for all to see, was my Girl's dress.
It was perfect.
The perfect color.
The perfect length.
The prefect fit.
I teared up the minute she stepped out of the dressing room.
"It's perfect!" I gushed.
And so it was.
The price for this amazing bit of tulle and sequins? I mere $49.99.
GASP!
The rest of the afternoon was spent in giddy girlie gladness. We were pathetic. Truly, pathetic. Every time we looked at each other we giggled. We smiled. Frankly, it was a little sickening and I don't know how Beloved managed to keep his dinner down.
Now all we have to do is buy the shoes, make the graduation announcements, pull together the entire ceremony, plan her party, take her senior photos and survive the day itself.
All of which is really small potatoes now that we've found the gown.
Pictures to follow.
I promise!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Girls Just Want to Have Fun
Our boys have departed for places south. We waved goodbye to Mister Smiley, the Game Master, and our Boy last night. Beloved flew out the door to a very stressful and laborious day of work. Girl and I slept until 10:00 am.
*yawn*
Today is a girls day. It will include coffee. It will include food. It will include shopping.
That is all.
Over and out.
*yawn*
Today is a girls day. It will include coffee. It will include food. It will include shopping.
That is all.
Over and out.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Fly Little One
My Girl has spent the last several weeks trying to decided what to do this summer. Actually, it's more of where to go.
Russia
Asia
Africa
South America
Pacific Islands
Florida
You get the idea.
She's hoping to go on a mission trip, but isn't sure where. There was one that looked totally cool that was going to Ireland. However, the cost was amazingly high and there were some rules that the group had that we didn't like very much.
We're rebels I tell ya!
Most recently she contacted old friends of ours through Wycliffe Bible Translators. We've been huge fans of their work for years and years. I am pretty sure our friends, who have served as missionaries with Wycliffe, had some pretty powerful influence over our kiddos.
There's just one thing...
See, my girl is, well, my GIRL! She's pretty. She's blond. She's MY GIRL!
So, let's think this through for just a moment:
Girl, who graduates June 12 at the ripe old age of seventeen, is planning on possibly leaving the country...leaving her MOTHER...leaving everything she's ever known...and heading off into the world.
Did I mention she's my little girl?
I nearly had a heart attack on the way to work yesterday because she was considering applying for an internship in Florida that lasts for ten weeks.
That's the entire summer!
I knew this day would come. I knew she would grow up and get these wild ideas about having a life of her own. I should have made her more dependent on me. I should have made her think that she could never survive without me...
Okay, not really.
My little girl is growing up and ready to test those wings. She's smart. She's brave. She's ready to take the world by horns. She's ready.
I'm just not sure her mother is...
Russia
Asia
Africa
South America
Pacific Islands
Florida
You get the idea.
She's hoping to go on a mission trip, but isn't sure where. There was one that looked totally cool that was going to Ireland. However, the cost was amazingly high and there were some rules that the group had that we didn't like very much.
We're rebels I tell ya!
Most recently she contacted old friends of ours through Wycliffe Bible Translators. We've been huge fans of their work for years and years. I am pretty sure our friends, who have served as missionaries with Wycliffe, had some pretty powerful influence over our kiddos.
There's just one thing...
See, my girl is, well, my GIRL! She's pretty. She's blond. She's MY GIRL!
So, let's think this through for just a moment:
Girl, who graduates June 12 at the ripe old age of seventeen, is planning on possibly leaving the country...leaving her MOTHER...leaving everything she's ever known...and heading off into the world.
Did I mention she's my little girl?
I nearly had a heart attack on the way to work yesterday because she was considering applying for an internship in Florida that lasts for ten weeks.
That's the entire summer!
I knew this day would come. I knew she would grow up and get these wild ideas about having a life of her own. I should have made her more dependent on me. I should have made her think that she could never survive without me...
Okay, not really.
My little girl is growing up and ready to test those wings. She's smart. She's brave. She's ready to take the world by horns. She's ready.
I'm just not sure her mother is...
Monday, January 18, 2010
It's Coming...
My girl
My "little" girl
My "little" blondie girl
My BABY!
Graduates in a matter of months.
Let the planning begin!
Because we are that weird homeschool family that you've heard about, Girl won't be graduating with a huge class. There is no class ring. There won't be a lock in grad party. She'll miss out on only having a few tickets and too many relatives who are dying to attend the ceremony.
Instead, she'll graduate with three others for a grand total of four graduates. (That's one more than graduated from our Boy's class).
She'll wear the robe
Walk the walk
Make a speech
Play the piano
And her mother with try not to cry.
MY BABY!
But before all that happens we need to plan. When Boy graduated we hosted a father-son breakfast. It was the perfect way to celebrate graduation because Beloved and Boy had attended many men's breakfasts together. The food was AMAZING and I can only say that I love hiring a caterer. No muss, no fuss. It's the only way to fly.
Now it's Girl's turn and we've decided on an afternoon tea. Doesn't that sound fun?
We need to narrow down a date, choose the menu, decide on decorations and get invitations out.
In so many ways, it feels like it's years away, but it's not.
It's coming, whether I'm ready or not.
I just can't believe it.
My girl
My "little" girl
My "little" blondie girl
is graduating.
Somebody get me my smelling salts!
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