This post is based on my earlier post titled "The Bassinet" which I wrote prior to our adoption of Baby J. I have since updated it and am entering it into Scribbit's Write-Away contest this month. So, as Paul Harvey would say, here is...the REST of the story...
**********************************************
The Bassinet Bids Us Farewell
The room was cozy and was decorated with a couple couches and wing chairs--all anchored by a simple oriental-style rug. A ficus tree or two dotted the room making the feeling of this space surprisingly homey. Then I spotted it. Tucked over in the corner next to the window was a white bassinet complete with a snow white skirt—looking regal—as if dressing for its first cotillion.
I guess the purpose of the bassinet was lost on me at first. I just assumed…"OK, so we're at an adoption agency…maybe there are times when clients need the use of a bassinet." It wasn't until the midst of our discussion when our case worker pointed out that we were sitting in the room where placement occurs that it dawned on me. THAT was the very bassinet where we would meet our child for the first time. The weight of the revelation was breathtaking.
Wow. Suddenly, the bassinet took on an entirely different persona for me. It wasn't just a white contraption that families kept their child in during a meeting. No, this particular bassinet was more angel than furniture. It was a comforter of children about to discover the joy of a new family. It was a place of transfer…the transferring of hopes and dreams from one human to another. But, most important, it was a temporary place for my soon-to-be child to feel safe until I take him or her into my heart and home forever.
As we exited the room, I glanced over my shoulder at the white bassinet in the corner. "Goodbye, for now..." I whispered… and then reluctantly turned to walk away.
Nearly a year later, we got THE CALL. A baby boy was soon to make his journey into our family and our home. Plans were made, last-minute rushing about was done and a few short weeks later it was time. It was time to go and bring our son home.
After the paperwork was signed, my husband, six-year old son and I were standing outside a small room knowing full well what was inside...a white bassinet. My heart skipped several beats as the caseworker slowly turned the knob and the door opened into what we like to refer to as our “delivery room.”
There, inside that sunny little room, was the fragile wicker bed that held within its grasp a piece of our heart. As we took a step toward the bassinet, a small arm clad in a hand-knit blue sweater slowly reached upwards in the air as if to say, “here I am. I’m ready to go.”
And go we did.
After an emotional time spent bonding with the newest member of our family, it was finally time to go home. Home to a nursery painted with a bright red bird, a cheerful zebra and a little brown puppy. Home to freshly washed baby bottles and never-been-used pacifiers in a rainbow of colors. And, home to a driveway-full of grandparents ready to swarm the car the moment it appeared in the distance.
The little white bassinet certainly fulfilled its role that day. It lovingly embraced our child until we could finally drive away—faces full of both smiles and tears—a family of four at last.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
One of LIfe's Little Tragedies
D.'s backpack broke this morning. The zipper became ensnared with the fabric and, while trying to loosen it, it broke with 8 minutes to spare until the bus came.
"What am I going to do?!," exclaimed my 6-year old.
Kick into Mommy high-gear.
Now, may I remind you that many of our back-up items are still boxed up. And, because of this, the only solution was to plunk his folders and snack into a black backpack that was too small but at least zipped up halfway.
You'da thought I'd dressed the child in a pair of pink overalls.
"But, Mommmmeeeeeee....it's too smalllllllll...nobody else wears a backpack this smalllllllllllllll."
"Well, this is our only option or you'll miss the bus," I replied.
Nevermind that we had drawn farm animals, made a cool farm book for his homework and just finished his favorite breakfast. Nope-- my Mommy Points dropped significantly with what I'm sure he'll remember as The Tragic Backpack Incident.
So, with drooped head and slumped shoulders, my poor, underprivileged child slowly trodded his way to the bus stop.
The sad thing is that, as his parent, I know there will be bigger tragedies he'll encounter in his life. But, I also know that I would have given anything to "save the day" and produce some cool solution to his dilemma.
Oh well, life will go on. Even with a too-small backpack...life must go on.
"What am I going to do?!," exclaimed my 6-year old.
Kick into Mommy high-gear.
Now, may I remind you that many of our back-up items are still boxed up. And, because of this, the only solution was to plunk his folders and snack into a black backpack that was too small but at least zipped up halfway.
You'da thought I'd dressed the child in a pair of pink overalls.
"But, Mommmmeeeeeee....it's too smalllllllll...nobody else wears a backpack this smalllllllllllllll."
"Well, this is our only option or you'll miss the bus," I replied.
Nevermind that we had drawn farm animals, made a cool farm book for his homework and just finished his favorite breakfast. Nope-- my Mommy Points dropped significantly with what I'm sure he'll remember as The Tragic Backpack Incident.
So, with drooped head and slumped shoulders, my poor, underprivileged child slowly trodded his way to the bus stop.
The sad thing is that, as his parent, I know there will be bigger tragedies he'll encounter in his life. But, I also know that I would have given anything to "save the day" and produce some cool solution to his dilemma.
Oh well, life will go on. Even with a too-small backpack...life must go on.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Whoa, Look at the Time...
I got nothin'.
Well, except some linkage for you. Yeah, I'm riding on the coattails of my bloggy buddies because I have more on my To-Do list than I have hours in the day. Baby J. had a rough day yesterday and I really got behind. I have an event in Pasadena next week that I only have a few little details to wrap up on...but just getting ready to go has made my pre-trip list a little longer than usual.
So, without further adieu, a few of my favorite posts of late:
The Fried Okra Family Finds a New Fave
A Good Reminder as I Race Through My Days
Oh My Goodness, I Can Hardly Stand it This Pie is So Good
enjoy. I will be back tomorrow... promise.
Well, except some linkage for you. Yeah, I'm riding on the coattails of my bloggy buddies because I have more on my To-Do list than I have hours in the day. Baby J. had a rough day yesterday and I really got behind. I have an event in Pasadena next week that I only have a few little details to wrap up on...but just getting ready to go has made my pre-trip list a little longer than usual.
So, without further adieu, a few of my favorite posts of late:
The Fried Okra Family Finds a New Fave
A Good Reminder as I Race Through My Days
Oh My Goodness, I Can Hardly Stand it This Pie is So Good
enjoy. I will be back tomorrow... promise.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Grammy
To my boys,
It's been over five years now since your Grammy passed away so I wanted to tell you a little bit about her while my recollection is still strong.
It is true that you tend to “idealize” a person after they’re gone—recalling only your favorite memories for comfort and strength. Sure we had our squabbles like all mothers/daughters do—but they pale in comparison to the warm remembrances of family vacations, time spent with friends and some meaningful—yet difficult—conversations we had prior to her death in 2003.
The purpose of these words is to paint a picture--a picture of your grandmother who loved you in her heart even though she never got the pleasure of discovering your existence. To me, it seems as if she brought us together…her pain and suffering serving as stepping stones to my own voyage to parenthood. Had it not been for her illness and eventual passing, I might not have yearned so deeply to feel that bond between mother and child. Not only has your joining our family enriched the lives and relationship of your father and me, but it has brought me closer to my mother in a somewhat unusual sense. To touch you is to channel the love she gave us all those years and pass it along to you. And, as the years go by and you grow from babies, into boys and eventually into men, I hope to tap into that creativity and sense of humor she used so often in raising us.
Sense of humor. Boy, did she have a clever wit about her. She had a dry, but always inclusive, sense of humor…possessing the ability to make everyone laugh—regardless if they really “got” her jokes or not. The woman had the knack for making others feel comfortable and at ease…if anything, I pray that I may have gotten a little bit of that quality from her.
Your Grammy had a beautiful voice and we loved to sing together while driving, or cleaning the house…any chance that we had to harmonize and enjoy music together. We would often sing “Amazing Grace” – that was one of her favorites. She taught your Aunt Jenny and I an appreciation for music, for the lyrics of songs and the emotions that they could allow you to feel. To this day, one of my favorite things is to sit and play my favorite songs and sing at the top of my lungs…I feel very close to her when I spend quiet time just enjoying singing and listening to music.
Since you boys came into our lives, I have often felt sad—wishing she were here to see that cute smile of yours or hear your sweet laughter. She would really have enjoyed both of you. D., she would have reveled in your curiosity and your incessant questions about life and the zeal with which you live it. J., your smile lights up a room and I'm sure she would have loved sitting at the sewing machine whipping out little outfits for you to wear.
Even the name "Grammy" was picked out by her as we discussed my desire to have children. We tossed about "Grandma" and "Nana" and we would chuckle at the thought of funny names like "Kackoo." And I made the mistake one time of suggesting "Granny"--nope, that wouldn't be an option! So, we settled on Grammy and she embraced her moniker with pride.
There is so much I want to share with you two about this remarkable woman...so many details about who she was and what she loved and the way in which people were drawn to her and her warm, inviting personality. Maybe as certain memories come back to me, I'll jot them down here so you can get a sense of what a neat person she was.
And, although she never got to meet you, I know in my heart of hearts that she loved you both very much.
It's been over five years now since your Grammy passed away so I wanted to tell you a little bit about her while my recollection is still strong.
It is true that you tend to “idealize” a person after they’re gone—recalling only your favorite memories for comfort and strength. Sure we had our squabbles like all mothers/daughters do—but they pale in comparison to the warm remembrances of family vacations, time spent with friends and some meaningful—yet difficult—conversations we had prior to her death in 2003.
The purpose of these words is to paint a picture--a picture of your grandmother who loved you in her heart even though she never got the pleasure of discovering your existence. To me, it seems as if she brought us together…her pain and suffering serving as stepping stones to my own voyage to parenthood. Had it not been for her illness and eventual passing, I might not have yearned so deeply to feel that bond between mother and child. Not only has your joining our family enriched the lives and relationship of your father and me, but it has brought me closer to my mother in a somewhat unusual sense. To touch you is to channel the love she gave us all those years and pass it along to you. And, as the years go by and you grow from babies, into boys and eventually into men, I hope to tap into that creativity and sense of humor she used so often in raising us.
Sense of humor. Boy, did she have a clever wit about her. She had a dry, but always inclusive, sense of humor…possessing the ability to make everyone laugh—regardless if they really “got” her jokes or not. The woman had the knack for making others feel comfortable and at ease…if anything, I pray that I may have gotten a little bit of that quality from her.
Your Grammy had a beautiful voice and we loved to sing together while driving, or cleaning the house…any chance that we had to harmonize and enjoy music together. We would often sing “Amazing Grace” – that was one of her favorites. She taught your Aunt Jenny and I an appreciation for music, for the lyrics of songs and the emotions that they could allow you to feel. To this day, one of my favorite things is to sit and play my favorite songs and sing at the top of my lungs…I feel very close to her when I spend quiet time just enjoying singing and listening to music.
Since you boys came into our lives, I have often felt sad—wishing she were here to see that cute smile of yours or hear your sweet laughter. She would really have enjoyed both of you. D., she would have reveled in your curiosity and your incessant questions about life and the zeal with which you live it. J., your smile lights up a room and I'm sure she would have loved sitting at the sewing machine whipping out little outfits for you to wear.
Even the name "Grammy" was picked out by her as we discussed my desire to have children. We tossed about "Grandma" and "Nana" and we would chuckle at the thought of funny names like "Kackoo." And I made the mistake one time of suggesting "Granny"--nope, that wouldn't be an option! So, we settled on Grammy and she embraced her moniker with pride.
There is so much I want to share with you two about this remarkable woman...so many details about who she was and what she loved and the way in which people were drawn to her and her warm, inviting personality. Maybe as certain memories come back to me, I'll jot them down here so you can get a sense of what a neat person she was.
And, although she never got to meet you, I know in my heart of hearts that she loved you both very much.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
46 pacifiers
46 pacifiers
live in our home
I'm trying to find one
all over I roam
a green or a blue one
or orange indeed
the old or the new one
a pacifier I need!
i've looked and I've looked
as the whining ensues
just one pacifier
and my baby might snooze!
live in our home
I'm trying to find one
all over I roam
a green or a blue one
or orange indeed
the old or the new one
a pacifier I need!
i've looked and I've looked
as the whining ensues
just one pacifier
and my baby might snooze!
A Blog About a Whole Lotta' Nothin'
I'm in a funky mood tonight.
Perhaps it's because I'm up past my beddy-bye time listening out for my boy on the new monitors we bought. You see, he's YET to sleep all night in his crib--in his room--and this night has been a challenge. Even now, I hear his mutterings...his whimpering sputters and wails. And now, just as quickly as it began, there is silence.
For at least 45 - 50 seconds, that is.
It could be a long night, peoples.
Other than that, I'm feelin' kinda ick. And I realize I just need to get over myself. Let me explain.
We just had a house full of company--my dad and his wife and my sister and her daughter--for 6 days total. I don't know what it is about having folks here, but it's like my brain short circuits and I become a bumbling mess.
On a normal, company-free day, I wake up, kiss my hubby goodbye and manage to get both kids underway for the day. My oldest is bathed, clothed, fed and at the busstop with plenty of time to spare. And when I go places? I have all the necessary STUFF to take care of a 4 month old.
But, with visitors present, all that goes out the window. I get to a restaurant and there's no diaper bag. And this morning? D. is rushing out the door as the bus is about to pull away. And Mount Laundry Pile appears again. And...and... why do I appear to be so disorganized when, in fact, I (mostly) have it all together on any other given day?
I dunno.
I also want to bake like this person. And sew like this person. There are so many things I want to be good at.
....see! I told you this post was about a whole lotta nothin'. Well, except griping. And who needs that?
OK, enough of the pity party. It's late and I'm tired. I'm sure that's all it is.
This post will be filed under one of the Greatest Pick-me-up Posts of All-Time by the people that track that sort of thing. You know, cause I'm inspirational and all.
Guess what, though. It has been 15 minutes and not a peep from yon nursery! Perhaps I should run go get some shut-eye.
Yikes.
Spoke too soon.
Perhaps it's because I'm up past my beddy-bye time listening out for my boy on the new monitors we bought. You see, he's YET to sleep all night in his crib--in his room--and this night has been a challenge. Even now, I hear his mutterings...his whimpering sputters and wails. And now, just as quickly as it began, there is silence.
For at least 45 - 50 seconds, that is.
It could be a long night, peoples.
Other than that, I'm feelin' kinda ick. And I realize I just need to get over myself. Let me explain.
We just had a house full of company--my dad and his wife and my sister and her daughter--for 6 days total. I don't know what it is about having folks here, but it's like my brain short circuits and I become a bumbling mess.
On a normal, company-free day, I wake up, kiss my hubby goodbye and manage to get both kids underway for the day. My oldest is bathed, clothed, fed and at the busstop with plenty of time to spare. And when I go places? I have all the necessary STUFF to take care of a 4 month old.
But, with visitors present, all that goes out the window. I get to a restaurant and there's no diaper bag. And this morning? D. is rushing out the door as the bus is about to pull away. And Mount Laundry Pile appears again. And...and... why do I appear to be so disorganized when, in fact, I (mostly) have it all together on any other given day?
I dunno.
I also want to bake like this person. And sew like this person. There are so many things I want to be good at.
....see! I told you this post was about a whole lotta nothin'. Well, except griping. And who needs that?
OK, enough of the pity party. It's late and I'm tired. I'm sure that's all it is.
This post will be filed under one of the Greatest Pick-me-up Posts of All-Time by the people that track that sort of thing. You know, cause I'm inspirational and all.
Guess what, though. It has been 15 minutes and not a peep from yon nursery! Perhaps I should run go get some shut-eye.
Yikes.
Spoke too soon.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Picture Time
D. and his cousin Alden in the back yard...
Cutie pa-too-tie.
My sister Jenny (right) and I outside the Loveless Cafe (yummm) in Nashville.
Two of the reasons my heart beats every day. (Keith and Baby J. napping) 
You gotta know this made my heart MELT. Sweet, sweet boy. 
My sister Jenny and I with the kids outside the Loveless Cafe.
(Jen's pigtails are crackin' me up and D. looks so realistic!)
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Mouse in a Wheel
airport arrivals
find the right lane
going too fast
slowwwwww it down
searching, searching faces
for one that looks like me
travelers crossing
wait, wait, wait
military man waves his hand
high in the air
flagging down a truck
thank you for your service, sir
cute little policeman
compact and friendly
"keep it movin', folks..."
searching, searching
no sign of sis
off we go, back on the road
making the circle
airport arrivals
find the right lane
speed B..U..M..P
jostle, jostle
searching more faces
friends reunited
a tearful embrace
no sign of sis
gotta keep moving
here I go again
back on the road
another lap
mouse in wheel
going in circles
searching, searching...
ooh! there she is
waving me down
a tearful embrace
back on the road
breaking the cycle
away we go.............
find the right lane
going too fast
slowwwwww it down
searching, searching faces
for one that looks like me
travelers crossing
wait, wait, wait
military man waves his hand
high in the air
flagging down a truck
thank you for your service, sir
cute little policeman
compact and friendly
"keep it movin', folks..."
searching, searching
no sign of sis
off we go, back on the road
making the circle
airport arrivals
find the right lane
speed B..U..M..P
jostle, jostle
searching more faces
friends reunited
a tearful embrace
no sign of sis
gotta keep moving
here I go again
back on the road
another lap
mouse in wheel
going in circles
searching, searching...
ooh! there she is
waving me down
a tearful embrace
back on the road
breaking the cycle
away we go.............
Friday, April 04, 2008
Is the Sun Shining a Little Brighter This Fine Morn?
Ok, so it's been raining here since YESTERDAY morning, so to answer my own blog title question..."no, it is not." BUT, if we were not in the middle of The Great Flood and the sun was actually shining which I am afraid it may never do again if it doesn't stop raining [ deep breath ]... well, I believe it would be shining a little brighter than usual.
Wanna know why?
MY CHILD SLEPT FOR EIGHT HOURS LAST NIGHT. Oh yeah. Happy dance. Happy dance, people. The birds are singing, the sun (should be) shinin' and the heavens are pouring forth with rays of sleep-induced relief over our household. (side note: I never thought that just getting a full night's sleep would affect my ability to refrain from the overuse of descriptive phrases. But that sleep stuff? Y'all, it's good. It's so very good for the mama soul.)
Baby J. just turned four months old and the pediatrician suggested adding a couple tablespoons of rice cereal to his nighttime bottle to both tide him over as well as help him with reflux issues. So, I tried it. And lo and behold, it worked. At least last night it did. We shall see if the magic wears off and we revert back to sleeplessness. But for one magical night, in a dimly lit bedroom somewhere south of Nashville, Tennessee, a baby slept. And a mama slept.
Let the people say..."Amen."
Wanna know why?
MY CHILD SLEPT FOR EIGHT HOURS LAST NIGHT. Oh yeah. Happy dance. Happy dance, people. The birds are singing, the sun (should be) shinin' and the heavens are pouring forth with rays of sleep-induced relief over our household. (side note: I never thought that just getting a full night's sleep would affect my ability to refrain from the overuse of descriptive phrases. But that sleep stuff? Y'all, it's good. It's so very good for the mama soul.)
Baby J. just turned four months old and the pediatrician suggested adding a couple tablespoons of rice cereal to his nighttime bottle to both tide him over as well as help him with reflux issues. So, I tried it. And lo and behold, it worked. At least last night it did. We shall see if the magic wears off and we revert back to sleeplessness. But for one magical night, in a dimly lit bedroom somewhere south of Nashville, Tennessee, a baby slept. And a mama slept.
Let the people say..."Amen."
Thursday, April 03, 2008
indigo
humanity is a fine art
a palette of desires
uncovered truths
our souls
an intricate tapestry
each thread
serving a different purpose...
symbolizing
that stolen kiss...
a hard fought victory...
the loss of someone dear...
yet often we realize
we're missing that one
special color...
a rich indigo
or a fiery red
colors whose absence
leave our fabric
incomplete
the air was cool and breezy
the day I discovered my indigo
the brilliance of its hue
like no blue
I had ever seen
I gently wove that thread
into my tapestry...
the pattern
at last
was complete.
a palette of desires
uncovered truths
our souls
an intricate tapestry
each thread
serving a different purpose...
symbolizing
that stolen kiss...
a hard fought victory...
the loss of someone dear...
yet often we realize
we're missing that one
special color...
a rich indigo
or a fiery red
colors whose absence
leave our fabric
incomplete
the air was cool and breezy
the day I discovered my indigo
the brilliance of its hue
like no blue
I had ever seen
I gently wove that thread
into my tapestry...
the pattern
at last
was complete.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Oh My Good Gracious
My hubby is on the Weight Watchers Core Plan and has really impressed me with his "stick-to-it" attitude. Of course, men usually can drop weight easier than women, and my wonderful, sweet, loving husband is no exception. ::sigh::
To try and sway me over to the "dark-side-where-my-beloved-sugary-snacks-are-but-a-thing-of-the-past..." (i.e. the Core Plan), he made this meal for us a couple nights ago. Trust me when I say it was delicious. Oh my good gracious was it delicious:
Cajun Crab Cakes and Orange-Cilantro Black Bean Salad
Crab Cakes:
olive oil cooking spray
1 lb. lump crabmeat (we used canned)
2 T. uncooked quick oats
1/4 c. roasted red peppers, diced (from a water-packed jar)
2 T. fat-free mayonnaise
1 t. Cajun seasoning
1 t. Dijon mustard
3/4 c. uncooked quick oats
1 t. Cajun seasoning
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
In a large bowl, combine crabmeat, 2 T. of oats, peppers, mayo, 1 t. of Cajun seasoning and mustard; mix gently to combine, being careful not to break up crabmeat lumps.
In a shallow dish, combine remaining 3/4 c. of oats and remaining tsp. of Cajun seasoning.
Shape crab mixture into 4 equal patties, about 1-inch thick each. Transfer crab cakes to oat mixture and turn to coat both sides. Transfer crab cakes to prepared baking sheet and coat surfaces with cooking spray.
Bake until crab cakes are firm to the touch and golden brown--about 15 minutes.
***************************************************
salad:
1/2 t. olive oil
1/2 medium red onion, chopped
2 med. garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/4 t. ground cumin
1 c. canned black beans, drained and rinsed
2 T. cilantro, fresh chopped
2 t. red wine vinegar
2 med. oranges, seeded, peeled and chopped into small pieces
1/8 t. table salt (or to taste)
1/8 t. black pepper (or to taste)
In a large skillet, warm oil over med-high heat. Add onion and saute 2 minutes. Add garlic and cumin and cook 1 minute more.
Stir in black beans and cook until just heated through. Transfer bean mixture to a medium-size bowl and stir in cilantro, vinegar and orange pieces. Season to taste and serve.
Yields about 3/4 c. per serving.
To try and sway me over to the "dark-side-where-my-beloved-sugary-snacks-are-but-a-thing-of-the-past..." (i.e. the Core Plan), he made this meal for us a couple nights ago. Trust me when I say it was delicious. Oh my good gracious was it delicious:
Cajun Crab Cakes and Orange-Cilantro Black Bean Salad
Crab Cakes:
olive oil cooking spray
1 lb. lump crabmeat (we used canned)
2 T. uncooked quick oats
1/4 c. roasted red peppers, diced (from a water-packed jar)
2 T. fat-free mayonnaise
1 t. Cajun seasoning
1 t. Dijon mustard
3/4 c. uncooked quick oats
1 t. Cajun seasoning
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
In a large bowl, combine crabmeat, 2 T. of oats, peppers, mayo, 1 t. of Cajun seasoning and mustard; mix gently to combine, being careful not to break up crabmeat lumps.
In a shallow dish, combine remaining 3/4 c. of oats and remaining tsp. of Cajun seasoning.
Shape crab mixture into 4 equal patties, about 1-inch thick each. Transfer crab cakes to oat mixture and turn to coat both sides. Transfer crab cakes to prepared baking sheet and coat surfaces with cooking spray.
Bake until crab cakes are firm to the touch and golden brown--about 15 minutes.
***************************************************
salad:
1/2 t. olive oil
1/2 medium red onion, chopped
2 med. garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/4 t. ground cumin
1 c. canned black beans, drained and rinsed
2 T. cilantro, fresh chopped
2 t. red wine vinegar
2 med. oranges, seeded, peeled and chopped into small pieces
1/8 t. table salt (or to taste)
1/8 t. black pepper (or to taste)
In a large skillet, warm oil over med-high heat. Add onion and saute 2 minutes. Add garlic and cumin and cook 1 minute more.
Stir in black beans and cook until just heated through. Transfer bean mixture to a medium-size bowl and stir in cilantro, vinegar and orange pieces. Season to taste and serve.
Yields about 3/4 c. per serving.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Gate C3
an hour til flight time
hustle and bustle
people watchin' ensues
what are their stories?
who does he love?
why does she look so sad?
a woman sits in sunshine
the rays casting a glow
upon her brown curls
and her smooth, tanned skin
the businessman beside me
crisp suit and tie
still perfectly knotted
plays endless games of solitaire
bordeom washing over his face
a friendly woman in green
plops down to my right
"bright sun today!," she chirps
I smile and nod in agreement
the man whose profile is across the aisle
studies his Sudoku puzzle
almost as intently
as he studies the tall brunette
across from him
he watches as she cuts a calzone
sawing back and forth
with plastic utensils
a surgeon's skill, no doubt
Sudoku, brunette
Sudoku, brunette
the brunette's husband appears
the gazing stops
the woman in green gets chatty
"where do you live?"
"do you have kids?"
"how old are they?"
"where do you have their hair cut?"
"have you heard of this photographer?"
her boarding zone is called
reprieve
my zone is called
hurry up and wait
tap the plane three times
for luck
16A by the window
a non-chatty seatmate
drinks his Sprite
and his moustache hairs
frolic in the liquid
as if on their own little vacation
only 30 more minutes
to Nashville
almost home...
almost home
hustle and bustle
people watchin' ensues
what are their stories?
who does he love?
why does she look so sad?
a woman sits in sunshine
the rays casting a glow
upon her brown curls
and her smooth, tanned skin
the businessman beside me
crisp suit and tie
still perfectly knotted
plays endless games of solitaire
bordeom washing over his face
a friendly woman in green
plops down to my right
"bright sun today!," she chirps
I smile and nod in agreement
the man whose profile is across the aisle
studies his Sudoku puzzle
almost as intently
as he studies the tall brunette
across from him
he watches as she cuts a calzone
sawing back and forth
with plastic utensils
a surgeon's skill, no doubt
Sudoku, brunette
Sudoku, brunette
the brunette's husband appears
the gazing stops
the woman in green gets chatty
"where do you live?"
"do you have kids?"
"how old are they?"
"where do you have their hair cut?"
"have you heard of this photographer?"
her boarding zone is called
reprieve
my zone is called
hurry up and wait
tap the plane three times
for luck
16A by the window
a non-chatty seatmate
drinks his Sprite
and his moustache hairs
frolic in the liquid
as if on their own little vacation
only 30 more minutes
to Nashville
almost home...
almost home
Monday, March 31, 2008
Firsts
I didn't expect to react this way. Really. But as the engine of the big yellow school bus roared as it pulled away from our corner, I cried. Today was a first for D. In the realm of "first this and first that," riding a school bus alone for the first time is a biggie.
At his previous school, it was a half-day program and we not only had to drive him there every day, but we had to sign him in as well as walk him to the door of his classroom. That's why this transition has been so huge for him-- and for me. It started with the all-day schedule...and more kids in his class...then it was hopping out of the car-rider line by himself to walk in to class. Now--well, we're in full-on big boy mode.
He was so excited as it neared time for the bus to arrive, he just about popped with anticipation.
"What do you want for breakfast?," I asked him.
"Anything that won't take so long that I miss the bus," he answered.
So, after scarfing down a bowl of Shredded Wheat, he jumped up and threw on his coat and backpack. Making sure that Baby J. was sound asleep in his glider, we darted out the front door to meet the bus at the bottom of the driveway.
At first we were the only ones waiting but, one by one, kids started approaching from all directions. One little girl with platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes introduced herself as a fellow kindergartener and told D. he was welcome to sit with her on the bus. It really was the sweetest thing ever and I chuckled as he smiled a sheepish, uncharacteristically shy smile and accepted the offer.
When the bus arrived, I introduced myself to the driver and she was extremely nice. As D. was stepping on the highest step he turned to me and frantically asked, "What's my bus number, Mommy?! What's the number?!!"
"92!," I replied and, with that, he disappeared into an abyss of seats and backpacks.
But, just as the driver was closing the doors, I heard a sweet voice utter, bravely, "Bye...Mom."
Cue the waterworks, folks.
And, as the big yellow bus pulled away and headed toward the beautiful rolling hills that lead to his school, I cried. I cried because he's growing up and because I'm so proud that my little man is so brave. I cried because he is trying new things and making his way without me holding his hand every step of the way. But mostly, I cried because I love him more than he could ever know.
At his previous school, it was a half-day program and we not only had to drive him there every day, but we had to sign him in as well as walk him to the door of his classroom. That's why this transition has been so huge for him-- and for me. It started with the all-day schedule...and more kids in his class...then it was hopping out of the car-rider line by himself to walk in to class. Now--well, we're in full-on big boy mode.
He was so excited as it neared time for the bus to arrive, he just about popped with anticipation.
"What do you want for breakfast?," I asked him.
"Anything that won't take so long that I miss the bus," he answered.
So, after scarfing down a bowl of Shredded Wheat, he jumped up and threw on his coat and backpack. Making sure that Baby J. was sound asleep in his glider, we darted out the front door to meet the bus at the bottom of the driveway.
At first we were the only ones waiting but, one by one, kids started approaching from all directions. One little girl with platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes introduced herself as a fellow kindergartener and told D. he was welcome to sit with her on the bus. It really was the sweetest thing ever and I chuckled as he smiled a sheepish, uncharacteristically shy smile and accepted the offer.
When the bus arrived, I introduced myself to the driver and she was extremely nice. As D. was stepping on the highest step he turned to me and frantically asked, "What's my bus number, Mommy?! What's the number?!!"
"92!," I replied and, with that, he disappeared into an abyss of seats and backpacks.
But, just as the driver was closing the doors, I heard a sweet voice utter, bravely, "Bye...Mom."
Cue the waterworks, folks.
And, as the big yellow bus pulled away and headed toward the beautiful rolling hills that lead to his school, I cried. I cried because he's growing up and because I'm so proud that my little man is so brave. I cried because he is trying new things and making his way without me holding his hand every step of the way. But mostly, I cried because I love him more than he could ever know.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Big Boy School, Heel Shots and Other Titilating Reasons Why I'm a Blog Slacker
Yeah, I know.
I remembered today that I actually have a blog that a handful of wonderful, distinguished, amazing people read every day. That is, if I were to actually write something every day.
I thought I had this moving thing licked. Well, after dealing with a psycho of a "handy"man supposedly doing work on the house we're selling and then fussing with my hubby on Easter morning as we rummage through boxes to fnd a lost "Easter Shoe" (sounds like a children's book title)...well, I realized I do NOT in fact enjoy the process of moving, thankyouverymuch. No, I'm tired as can be of digging through boxes of STUFF--stuff that was once neatly organized contents of desk drawers, spice cabinets, belt racks-- all jumbled together in an unsightly concoction and tossed willy nilly into a box. Lawd.
Oh yeah, and moving with a three month old? Do. Not. Do. This. He has been an absolute champ but mama's nerves get fried real easy when the Cryin' and the Fussin' starts and I can't get anything done. Do not get me wrong, folks...I love him and his smiles make each day worth getting up for...but when da' boy needs da' attention...he demands it. My sis-in-law Tonia is here this week helping out. She is also under the impression that she is getting to leave on Friday. Yeah, um, that's not gonna' happen. I've bribed her with honey and almond body lotion, Sun Chips and even cough drops (I'll stop at nothin, people). What more could a girl want?
D. started "Big Boy" school this week (a.k.a. public kindergarten) that goes all day. He is really adjusting beautifully but, boy howdy is it an adjustment for us all. He is exhausted at the end of the day and I really do miss him being with me all afternoon. I just have to say, though, that me in the car rider lane on the first day was pretty funny. I had NO IDEA what I was doing and people who have been doing this little procedure all year are all pulling up to The Designated Spot That Everyone Knows About Except Me and jumping out, grabbing a child--any child-- and hopping back in and zooming off. I should have had Tonia time me with a stop watch so I can have a baseline on which to improve. My measure of success was having a kid in my back seat that happened to be mine. I think we're off to a good start.
Heel shots. No, this is not something you do at a bar; rather, it is a fun little process you go through on a doctor's table as he comes at you with a needle squirting out heaven only knows what kinda liquid (turns out to be Cortisone). I apparently have Plantar Faciitis on the heel of my right foot and, folks, it sho' is painful. Besides hobblin' like a little ol' lady after sleeping or sitting for a long period of time, it has crawled up the back of my leg to compensate for me only using the ball of my foot. Good times. Going to the airport tomorrow and touring numerous hotels in the greater Baltimore area for a couple days. My timing is IMPECCABLE. I'm so proud of my special gift in that area.
OK, it's 2a.m. folks and I'm not going to even tell you what time we're heading to the airport in the morning (cough, 6am) so I'd better sign off.
If I haven't completely lost my entire lot of readers with my negligence, please say "hello." I'm not brave enough to call for a total Reader Delurking (calling out all those readers who read but don't comment)...you know, it's the same fear as planning a party and no one showing up...but I would like to hear from you if you get a sec.
Hope all is well wherever you are. I'm gonna hobble my hobblin' self downstairs and pack. Er, I mean get in the bed.
Nighty night.
I remembered today that I actually have a blog that a handful of wonderful, distinguished, amazing people read every day. That is, if I were to actually write something every day.
I thought I had this moving thing licked. Well, after dealing with a psycho of a "handy"man supposedly doing work on the house we're selling and then fussing with my hubby on Easter morning as we rummage through boxes to fnd a lost "Easter Shoe" (sounds like a children's book title)...well, I realized I do NOT in fact enjoy the process of moving, thankyouverymuch. No, I'm tired as can be of digging through boxes of STUFF--stuff that was once neatly organized contents of desk drawers, spice cabinets, belt racks-- all jumbled together in an unsightly concoction and tossed willy nilly into a box. Lawd.
Oh yeah, and moving with a three month old? Do. Not. Do. This. He has been an absolute champ but mama's nerves get fried real easy when the Cryin' and the Fussin' starts and I can't get anything done. Do not get me wrong, folks...I love him and his smiles make each day worth getting up for...but when da' boy needs da' attention...he demands it. My sis-in-law Tonia is here this week helping out. She is also under the impression that she is getting to leave on Friday. Yeah, um, that's not gonna' happen. I've bribed her with honey and almond body lotion, Sun Chips and even cough drops (I'll stop at nothin, people). What more could a girl want?
D. started "Big Boy" school this week (a.k.a. public kindergarten) that goes all day. He is really adjusting beautifully but, boy howdy is it an adjustment for us all. He is exhausted at the end of the day and I really do miss him being with me all afternoon. I just have to say, though, that me in the car rider lane on the first day was pretty funny. I had NO IDEA what I was doing and people who have been doing this little procedure all year are all pulling up to The Designated Spot That Everyone Knows About Except Me and jumping out, grabbing a child--any child-- and hopping back in and zooming off. I should have had Tonia time me with a stop watch so I can have a baseline on which to improve. My measure of success was having a kid in my back seat that happened to be mine. I think we're off to a good start.
Heel shots. No, this is not something you do at a bar; rather, it is a fun little process you go through on a doctor's table as he comes at you with a needle squirting out heaven only knows what kinda liquid (turns out to be Cortisone). I apparently have Plantar Faciitis on the heel of my right foot and, folks, it sho' is painful. Besides hobblin' like a little ol' lady after sleeping or sitting for a long period of time, it has crawled up the back of my leg to compensate for me only using the ball of my foot. Good times. Going to the airport tomorrow and touring numerous hotels in the greater Baltimore area for a couple days. My timing is IMPECCABLE. I'm so proud of my special gift in that area.
OK, it's 2a.m. folks and I'm not going to even tell you what time we're heading to the airport in the morning (cough, 6am) so I'd better sign off.
If I haven't completely lost my entire lot of readers with my negligence, please say "hello." I'm not brave enough to call for a total Reader Delurking (calling out all those readers who read but don't comment)...you know, it's the same fear as planning a party and no one showing up...but I would like to hear from you if you get a sec.
Hope all is well wherever you are. I'm gonna hobble my hobblin' self downstairs and pack. Er, I mean get in the bed.
Nighty night.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
From the Mouths of Babes
My son. My sweet, brilliant, excitable, maddening, funny, funny six-year old child. Oh, how you make me laugh.
Last night (setting the scene): Time for D. to go to bed. Has not brushed teeth. Despises brushing teeth. Mom tells him to go brush teeth. D. slams both hands down on his lap simultaneously in frustration.
Me: (obviously sarcastic) "ooh, knick-knack, paddy-wack. Is that what you're wanting to play?"
D: "no, I'm playing knick-knack MAD-ee-wack."
Oh yeah. Those teenage years are gonna be a breeze.
Last night (setting the scene): Time for D. to go to bed. Has not brushed teeth. Despises brushing teeth. Mom tells him to go brush teeth. D. slams both hands down on his lap simultaneously in frustration.
Me: (obviously sarcastic) "ooh, knick-knack, paddy-wack. Is that what you're wanting to play?"
D: "no, I'm playing knick-knack MAD-ee-wack."
Oh yeah. Those teenage years are gonna be a breeze.
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Good Friday, Indeed
I've always thought it a bit odd that the holiday that my family observes today-- the day our Savior was crucified--well, I always thought it was strange to call it GOOD Friday. As I've grown older, I understand more fully the concept of why his death is indeed good for me...good for this world. Without this sacrifice, I would never know the freedom of forgiveness and the simple beauty of God's grace. A grace that is imparted to me an a daily, if not hourly, basis.
As with many parents, I've dealt with the delicate balance needed in celebrating the "commercial" traditions of Easter along with focusing on the true reason for the holiday. We will do the obligatory Easter egg hunt in the morning as well as the jelly-bean-laden basket that my son will discover Easter morning. But he also knows that Jesus died for all of us and that the celebrating that we do is because he rose again. I see no harm in working in some of the traditions we observed when I was growing up...as long as it is tempered with the story of how Jesus died to save us of our sins. I guess it's all about perspective.
I'm grateful this Good Friday. I'm grateful because our family is back together...no longer separated but doing life together again. I'm grateful for a new home, and new friendships, and a new place where it truly feels as if we're where God intended us to be. But most of all, I'm grateful for my Savior. His life, His sacrifice...they are the real reasons I'm here.
It really is a Good Friday.
As with many parents, I've dealt with the delicate balance needed in celebrating the "commercial" traditions of Easter along with focusing on the true reason for the holiday. We will do the obligatory Easter egg hunt in the morning as well as the jelly-bean-laden basket that my son will discover Easter morning. But he also knows that Jesus died for all of us and that the celebrating that we do is because he rose again. I see no harm in working in some of the traditions we observed when I was growing up...as long as it is tempered with the story of how Jesus died to save us of our sins. I guess it's all about perspective.
I'm grateful this Good Friday. I'm grateful because our family is back together...no longer separated but doing life together again. I'm grateful for a new home, and new friendships, and a new place where it truly feels as if we're where God intended us to be. But most of all, I'm grateful for my Savior. His life, His sacrifice...they are the real reasons I'm here.
It really is a Good Friday.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Wheeeeeeeeee
Now that baby J. is learning to roll over, he thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. Here is a before and after of his tummy trick:
BEFORE (serious look)
AFTER ("whoa, that was fun" look)
In a Word . . . American Idol
I could talk about AI all day but I'm going to see if I can keep it to one word for each contestant's performance this week. You know, to make it interesting...unlike last night's show:
Amanda-- predictable
Brooke-- awkward
Syesha-- cleavage!
Ramiele-- yawn
David Cook-- cool
David Archuleta-- soothing
Jason-- boring
Chikezie-- delightful
Kristy Lee--inconsistent
Michael-- lackluster
Carly-- capable
It really was a snoozer of a show. I am not a Beatles fan, y'all. I don't NOT like them, that's just never been music that I've listened to on purpose. So, I was mighty disappointed when I heard we were being treated to a SECOND week of Beatles songs.
And, as much as I do not care for her style, I agree wholeheartedly with Amanda when she responded to Paula's suggestion of doing a ballad. She said she wants people to get a taste of what she would be like in concert. I couldn't agree more. Ruben Studdard was a big, cute teddy bear of a guy but when his album came out there was nothing on there I was happy about spending money on. Sure I'd love to see John Denver week on Idol... but that's just not ever going to be the style of most of the folks on there.
Bottom line: Lots o' talent this year... but no one is blowing me away yet. We shall see....
Amanda-- predictable
Brooke-- awkward
Syesha-- cleavage!
Ramiele-- yawn
David Cook-- cool
David Archuleta-- soothing
Jason-- boring
Chikezie-- delightful
Kristy Lee--inconsistent
Michael-- lackluster
Carly-- capable
It really was a snoozer of a show. I am not a Beatles fan, y'all. I don't NOT like them, that's just never been music that I've listened to on purpose. So, I was mighty disappointed when I heard we were being treated to a SECOND week of Beatles songs.
And, as much as I do not care for her style, I agree wholeheartedly with Amanda when she responded to Paula's suggestion of doing a ballad. She said she wants people to get a taste of what she would be like in concert. I couldn't agree more. Ruben Studdard was a big, cute teddy bear of a guy but when his album came out there was nothing on there I was happy about spending money on. Sure I'd love to see John Denver week on Idol... but that's just not ever going to be the style of most of the folks on there.
Bottom line: Lots o' talent this year... but no one is blowing me away yet. We shall see....
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
1,053 Things To Update You On
1. The movers left yesterday after unpacking all our stuff
2. Unpacking by movers consists of them emptying all of your stuff onto whatever solid surface they can find and then they leave
3. I shant be utilizing unpacking services in the future
4. You don't really think I am going to list 1,053 things, do you?
5. I probably could, though
6. I love our new area
7. I love our new house--even though we're renting
8. I love our new SuperTarget enough that my hubby has already banned me from going there because I went in for a plunger Sunday night and left with $195 worth of stuff
9. Yes, D. really needed those flip flops
10. And yes, I really needed that lite garlic herb cream cheese
11. Our new neighbors brought us food. I love them.
12. D.'s new school is out in the country....it's such a BEAUtiful drive
13. At church Sunday, I saw a friend of mine that I graduated high school with...he and his wife also adopted a son from Russia and have a 6-year old boy. Small, small world.
14. I think my 6 year old is going for a record for swinging on a backyard swing. He loves that thing.
OK, I'll spare you more laundry list. We love it here. I am loving the rolling countrysides that greet me everywhere and the big, open skies and friendly people. I am loving the AMOUNT OF STORAGE we have in this house and am wondering how in the heck we're going to be able to match it when we either buy or build in a year or so. Hubs is loving his job and he really enjoys having someone say "hey--we're so glad you're here." Who wouldn't love to hear that?
There was so much to update you on but my mind is failing me. I really did spend $195 in Target because, well, it's Brand Spankin' New. New cool plastic buggies, clean aisles fully stocked with stuff. Did I mention I went there alone? I was in heaven.
I am trying to dig out from under the Pile o' Mess I was left with yesterday. My kitchen....oh, my kitchen. It waits for me, begging for me to relieve its counters of the random objects perched there. In one spot is a sticky note pad, a small whisk, extra buttons, a stray cookbook, parts to a slicing thingie, a puzzle and my camera battery charger. Do you see why that stresses me out? I quite prefer the neat stack of dishes waiting to be tucked away. Oh, yeah. Me likey the stacked stuff.
The boys are doing well and are adjusting to their new place. It feels good here. I'm excited to see what our new area holds in store!
2. Unpacking by movers consists of them emptying all of your stuff onto whatever solid surface they can find and then they leave
3. I shant be utilizing unpacking services in the future
4. You don't really think I am going to list 1,053 things, do you?
5. I probably could, though
6. I love our new area
7. I love our new house--even though we're renting
8. I love our new SuperTarget enough that my hubby has already banned me from going there because I went in for a plunger Sunday night and left with $195 worth of stuff
9. Yes, D. really needed those flip flops
10. And yes, I really needed that lite garlic herb cream cheese
11. Our new neighbors brought us food. I love them.
12. D.'s new school is out in the country....it's such a BEAUtiful drive
13. At church Sunday, I saw a friend of mine that I graduated high school with...he and his wife also adopted a son from Russia and have a 6-year old boy. Small, small world.
14. I think my 6 year old is going for a record for swinging on a backyard swing. He loves that thing.
OK, I'll spare you more laundry list. We love it here. I am loving the rolling countrysides that greet me everywhere and the big, open skies and friendly people. I am loving the AMOUNT OF STORAGE we have in this house and am wondering how in the heck we're going to be able to match it when we either buy or build in a year or so. Hubs is loving his job and he really enjoys having someone say "hey--we're so glad you're here." Who wouldn't love to hear that?
There was so much to update you on but my mind is failing me. I really did spend $195 in Target because, well, it's Brand Spankin' New. New cool plastic buggies, clean aisles fully stocked with stuff. Did I mention I went there alone? I was in heaven.
I am trying to dig out from under the Pile o' Mess I was left with yesterday. My kitchen....oh, my kitchen. It waits for me, begging for me to relieve its counters of the random objects perched there. In one spot is a sticky note pad, a small whisk, extra buttons, a stray cookbook, parts to a slicing thingie, a puzzle and my camera battery charger. Do you see why that stresses me out? I quite prefer the neat stack of dishes waiting to be tucked away. Oh, yeah. Me likey the stacked stuff.
The boys are doing well and are adjusting to their new place. It feels good here. I'm excited to see what our new area holds in store!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Well, we're movin' on up............
Ok folks. Mama need a break! The packers came yesterday and packed most of my house so quickly it was like flood waters rising and I couldn't stay ahead of them! Finally, I had to create a human shield to the staircase leading upstairs. "NO! I'm not ready! I have to grab some undies! I'll need a hair dryer! Oh, and our alarm clock! I need time, people!"Apparently it worked because they left to give me an evening to:
1. Breathe
2. Watch American Idol (a girl's gotta have her priorities)
3. Pack our clothes for now through Monday
4. Breathe some more
And then, like people you'd think get paid to do this or somethin, THEY CAME BACK. But this time, I was ready. Well, except for the computer. I've all but pulled a tree-huggin stunt here at my desk. But, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
No! Please don't take it..... please. I must. have. internet. accesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
[insert muffled sounds of crumpled paper and packing tape]
Roses are Red, Violets are Violet will return to its regularly scheduled programming on Tuesday, March 18. (Not that I've ever done anything regularly but that's beside the point.)
Monday, March 10, 2008
Various and Sundry Random Miscellany
How is that for a non-commital title?
THE MOVE--Breathe, Katie. The movers will be here, unm, tomorrow. Yep. Not in a month...or even a week. TOMORROW (Tuesdyy a.m.). In true anal annie style that my friends know me best for, I have gone through the house taping up signs that indicate how stacks of itmes should be labeled. Since we are only going to be in this new house for a year (renting until we decide where to buy or build) we don't want to have to unpack EVERYthing only to re-pack and store it. Yes, our home closely resembles a discount warehouse but at least I have some tiny little semblance of peace that it won't be chaos. Or, at least it will be sorta-organized chaos. Breathe.......................
THE WEATHER--stunningly beautiful today. Shorts weather today. Snow showers 2 days ago. It's a wonder we don't all have P-noo-monia.
AMERICAN IDOL--Sad that I am tucking this in a laundry-list of a post...but I haven't had the wherewithal to write at length about it (not that I've had such riveting material in its place, mind you). Here's my lowdown for fellow AI'ers:
- I'm lovin' the David's. Archuleta, Cook and Hernandez. Love 'em all.
- I just want to squeeze Parcheesi, I mean Jacuzzi's..er...Chikezie's cheeks. He's so darn cute.
- Jason and Michael are as cute as they can be, but I haven't been wowed with their vocals just yet. To me, they've just been "aw-ite, dawg, you know...just aw-ite"
- As for the girls... well, Amada scares me...she'd hurt me for sure. Brooke is great but I just want to find out she's done ONE thing wrong in her life. One . Carly is amazing but she'd kind of got the whole "I've had a record deal before" stigma going on.
- Kristy Lee Cook's figure MAKES. ME. ILL.
- Syesha is a great singer...but a super star? And little Ramiele? Adorable.
- The judges are getting on my nerves. Bickering. Jokes about the contestants. be cool guys.
- Ryan should leave well enough alone. I'm bored with his Simon-bashing. Blah, blah, blah.
3:39 am--It is 20 minutes til 4 a.m. and I am still working to get things ready for the movers tomorrow (or TODAY since they'll be here in a few hours!). With a 6 year old and an infant, this is literally the ONLY time I can get what I need to get done. If I don't turn it in, I'll be good for nothin' tomorrow. Must........get..........sleep.
Please excuse my absence lately. Once we get moved, I promise to get back in the groove.
More later.........
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Outside the Carwash
The sky was a brilliant, cobalt blue
Your shirt a crisp white
Your sandy blonde hair shone in the sun
Rivaling only the spark of your smile
Unbridled joy
Run, run, run my child
Across the blades of green
Youthful spirit unleashed and free
My heart soars as we fall
Into a pool of laughter
As we wait outside the carwash
In this small patch of grass
It is as if we are in a distant place
You and I leaping through flowery meadows
Imagining animals out of billowy clouds
But instead our time is up
The man hands me the keys
Off we go, back to the lines of cars
Others rushing through their daily lives
Traffic lights beaming green, yellow, red
Soon we’ll return there
To our little patch of heaven
Where billowy clouds dance by
Outside the carwash
ktb 04.28.05
Your shirt a crisp white
Your sandy blonde hair shone in the sun
Rivaling only the spark of your smile
Unbridled joy
Run, run, run my child
Across the blades of green
Youthful spirit unleashed and free
My heart soars as we fall
Into a pool of laughter
As we wait outside the carwash
In this small patch of grass
It is as if we are in a distant place
You and I leaping through flowery meadows
Imagining animals out of billowy clouds
But instead our time is up
The man hands me the keys
Off we go, back to the lines of cars
Others rushing through their daily lives
Traffic lights beaming green, yellow, red
Soon we’ll return there
To our little patch of heaven
Where billowy clouds dance by
Outside the carwash
ktb 04.28.05
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Help Wanted
Did you know that The Golden Gate Bridge is ALWAYS being repainted? It's so grand in scale, crews get to one end and it's already time to begin painting again. Same goes for the mound of baby bottles in my sink. daily. I begin each day with such hope...promise...a bevy of sparkling bottles with which I can provide nourishment to my little man. Then, as the day goes by, the sink begins to fill up. Dirty bottles stacked atop one another in some twisted "King O' the Mountain" match up.
So, I devised an ad. It reads:
Think it'll work?
So, I devised an ad. It reads:
Think it'll work?
Monday, March 03, 2008
Are You Smarter Than a 3-year Old?
This is the daughter of a good friend. Not only is she one of the cutest kids on the planet, but she's obviously not short on the smarts, either. He emailed us this video and I CACKLED at the end. It's pretty darn funny. Check it out for yourself:
Introducing Sydney:
Introducing Sydney:
Saturday, March 01, 2008
There's Never a Samoa Around When You Need One....
I spotted the car waiting at the end of the driveway. Then I spotted her..a little different than the Girl Scouts of old-- you know, when we were forced to wear the requisite green garb and knee socks with the little flags on them. Oh I was cute all right. I was a force to be reckoned with...my sash of badges twittering the breeze and a cookie order form firmly in my grasp.
I digressed, didn't I?
Up walks a girl whose only identifying mark was the box of Thin Mints peeking out from a plastic grocery sack. You know that can only mean one thing............
GIRL SCOUT COOKIES ARE HERE!!!
Hubs had mentioned ordering some cookies a while back and, frankly, I had forgotten about it. But quicker than you can say "lemonade stand" I was tearing into the bag to survey the glorious contents. I stopped dead in my tracks.
The only boxes in the bag were Lemon What-It's, Thin Mints (a given) and a box of (prepare yourself) SUGAR-FREE chocolate chip cookies. Sugar-free? Oh my good gracious.
Where are my SAMOAS????
What about my shortbread cookies???
I felt faint.
It was clear there had been NO IDENTIFIABLE PLAN when ordering. Oh, no siree. This apparently was a hubs-cookie-preferences-only decision. We have been married for just under 150 years and the man does not know that I clearly appreciate a good Samoa. Hey, even a Tag-along or two. But lemon? And, for goodness sakes, SUGAR FREE? It's just plain un-American, if you ask me.
Hmmph.
I guess that'll be helping the diet along. Who needs THAT?
I digressed, didn't I?
Up walks a girl whose only identifying mark was the box of Thin Mints peeking out from a plastic grocery sack. You know that can only mean one thing............
GIRL SCOUT COOKIES ARE HERE!!!
Hubs had mentioned ordering some cookies a while back and, frankly, I had forgotten about it. But quicker than you can say "lemonade stand" I was tearing into the bag to survey the glorious contents. I stopped dead in my tracks.
The only boxes in the bag were Lemon What-It's, Thin Mints (a given) and a box of (prepare yourself) SUGAR-FREE chocolate chip cookies. Sugar-free? Oh my good gracious.
Where are my SAMOAS????
What about my shortbread cookies???
I felt faint.
It was clear there had been NO IDENTIFIABLE PLAN when ordering. Oh, no siree. This apparently was a hubs-cookie-preferences-only decision. We have been married for just under 150 years and the man does not know that I clearly appreciate a good Samoa. Hey, even a Tag-along or two. But lemon? And, for goodness sakes, SUGAR FREE? It's just plain un-American, if you ask me.
Hmmph.
I guess that'll be helping the diet along. Who needs THAT?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
A Nice Reminder...
I'm a bit tired.
Anyone who has had a baby in their home understands the fatigue that eventually catches up to you from night after night of interrupted sleep. In the midst of the darkness that is early morning, my child takes it upon himself to sound the alarm: IT IS FEEDING TIME! No warning...no whimper or soft alert. No, this is serious business and I must be roused immediately. I stumble out of bed, tripping over a stray shoe or toy in my path, prepare the bottle and retrieve my child from his bed.
This used to be a time of tranquility. Remember my 3:37am post? "There's nothing I'd rather be doing t that time of the morning...so on and so forth..." Well, recently those feelings have given way to "oh, why can't I just get one solid night's sleep? One teensy weensy little night?" And the frustration doesn't limit itself to nighttime hours. When I hit the mid to late afternoon hours and my energy is particularly drained, a cry of discontentment is like nails on a chalkboard. I feel so guilty even admitting that! I have a second child! I prayed for this! It is a blessing! I guess in my hours of fatique-induced yuckiness, I am a little more aware of my impatience.
Then, my pal Melissa wrote this post today. You must check it out. OK, so it did make me feel this big when I read it but it also made me remember what an honor it is to GET to care for a child...especially the sweet, happy boy that God blessed us with.
So, check it out. Gotta go rock a young man now. Can't resist!
Anyone who has had a baby in their home understands the fatigue that eventually catches up to you from night after night of interrupted sleep. In the midst of the darkness that is early morning, my child takes it upon himself to sound the alarm: IT IS FEEDING TIME! No warning...no whimper or soft alert. No, this is serious business and I must be roused immediately. I stumble out of bed, tripping over a stray shoe or toy in my path, prepare the bottle and retrieve my child from his bed.
This used to be a time of tranquility. Remember my 3:37am post? "There's nothing I'd rather be doing t that time of the morning...so on and so forth..." Well, recently those feelings have given way to "oh, why can't I just get one solid night's sleep? One teensy weensy little night?" And the frustration doesn't limit itself to nighttime hours. When I hit the mid to late afternoon hours and my energy is particularly drained, a cry of discontentment is like nails on a chalkboard. I feel so guilty even admitting that! I have a second child! I prayed for this! It is a blessing! I guess in my hours of fatique-induced yuckiness, I am a little more aware of my impatience.
Then, my pal Melissa wrote this post today. You must check it out. OK, so it did make me feel this big when I read it but it also made me remember what an honor it is to GET to care for a child...especially the sweet, happy boy that God blessed us with.
So, check it out. Gotta go rock a young man now. Can't resist!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Imagine...
For some reason, baby J. had a terrible time tummy-wise beginning around 9pm tonight. For no less than an hour, he screamed with no position seeming to do the trick. I had taped American Idol and was watching it back--but mostly had it paused as I tried to soothe him to sleep. Finally, I skipped forward to this performance and it was like a magic potion for J. The minute the opening guitar chords were strummed, his little body relaxed and he stretched out across my lap and immediately went to sleep.
Needless to say, I watched it no less than 10 times to make sure we he was well on his way to Dreamland before I tried to move him to his bed.
The American Idol Lullaby Collection...coming to store near you!
This really was a beautiful pefrormance. Enjoy.
Needless to say, I watched it no less than 10 times to make sure we he was well on his way to Dreamland before I tried to move him to his bed.
The American Idol Lullaby Collection...coming to store near you!
This really was a beautiful pefrormance. Enjoy.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Helicopter Tail
I can't remember where I was going when I opened the front door of the house I lived in during college. I'm pretty sure the year was 1993 and I glanced on my front stoop to find a chocolate brown puppy with the biggest paws I'd ever seen. It was love at first sight. However,I knew with the rigors of college life and the inconsistent amount of time I spent at the house, I couldn't keep him. But, I had an idea.
I was headed home that weekend to visit my parents with the requisite laundry basket in tow. I walked in the back door, set the basket on the table in front of my animal-lovin' mother. She caught a glimpse of two paws sticking out from under an old ratty t-shirt and said, while shaking her head back and forth feverishly, "No way. Nope. Don't even think about it."
Fast forward a few years and you'll find Sam, or "Sambo" as my mother lovingly referred to him, cozied up on the sofa next to her as she did cross-stitch or watched her favorite television show. Her shadow in every sense of the word, Sam would trot along beside my Mom and, upon hearing the familiar voices of family and friends, would spin his tail around in a fierce circular motion-- affectionately to become known as "helicopter tail".
Sambo always had a twinkle in his eye and loved "his people" to the point of doing a hind-end wiggly dance every time we would come around. During my Mom's illness a few years ago, it was as if he sensed what was going on and became quite protective of her-- always lying at her feet or close by.
When Mom passed away, it was as if a little bit of the sparkle faded in Sam's eyes. His "person," the one whom he had shadowed and admired all those years was no longer there. For the next five years, he became good pals with one of the cats of the family and enjoyed many hours chasing butterflies in the backyard and playing the role of "tough guard dog" for passersby... giving those of us privy to his kind, gentle spirit quite a chuckle.
The years have rolled on and we lost Sam today. My Dad called in tears to tell me that they had to have him put to sleep. I didn't react the way I always anticipated that I would. Instead of tears, years of fond recollections scrolled through my head...all the times that Sam had greeted us or showered us with an unconditional love that only man's best friend can provide.
The next time I go home to Alabama, it won't quite be the same. The hind-wiggling greeting I've grown accustomed to won't be there and the house will seem a little more sad now that Sambo is gone.
And, although my beliefs won't allow me to place Sambo in Heaven with my Mom like I wish I could, I know there is a special place where he'll always be young, he'll always have a spring in his step and where he's leaping in wide open spaces with no end. In this place, the most special of places meant for the most special of dogs... there is a beautiful "mutt" of a dog, running free and remembering fondly all the times he greeted "his people" with a sparkle in his eye and a thick brownish/black helicopter tail spinning in the breeze.
I was headed home that weekend to visit my parents with the requisite laundry basket in tow. I walked in the back door, set the basket on the table in front of my animal-lovin' mother. She caught a glimpse of two paws sticking out from under an old ratty t-shirt and said, while shaking her head back and forth feverishly, "No way. Nope. Don't even think about it."
Fast forward a few years and you'll find Sam, or "Sambo" as my mother lovingly referred to him, cozied up on the sofa next to her as she did cross-stitch or watched her favorite television show. Her shadow in every sense of the word, Sam would trot along beside my Mom and, upon hearing the familiar voices of family and friends, would spin his tail around in a fierce circular motion-- affectionately to become known as "helicopter tail".
Sambo always had a twinkle in his eye and loved "his people" to the point of doing a hind-end wiggly dance every time we would come around. During my Mom's illness a few years ago, it was as if he sensed what was going on and became quite protective of her-- always lying at her feet or close by.
When Mom passed away, it was as if a little bit of the sparkle faded in Sam's eyes. His "person," the one whom he had shadowed and admired all those years was no longer there. For the next five years, he became good pals with one of the cats of the family and enjoyed many hours chasing butterflies in the backyard and playing the role of "tough guard dog" for passersby... giving those of us privy to his kind, gentle spirit quite a chuckle.
The years have rolled on and we lost Sam today. My Dad called in tears to tell me that they had to have him put to sleep. I didn't react the way I always anticipated that I would. Instead of tears, years of fond recollections scrolled through my head...all the times that Sam had greeted us or showered us with an unconditional love that only man's best friend can provide.
The next time I go home to Alabama, it won't quite be the same. The hind-wiggling greeting I've grown accustomed to won't be there and the house will seem a little more sad now that Sambo is gone.
And, although my beliefs won't allow me to place Sambo in Heaven with my Mom like I wish I could, I know there is a special place where he'll always be young, he'll always have a spring in his step and where he's leaping in wide open spaces with no end. In this place, the most special of places meant for the most special of dogs... there is a beautiful "mutt" of a dog, running free and remembering fondly all the times he greeted "his people" with a sparkle in his eye and a thick brownish/black helicopter tail spinning in the breeze.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Just Isn't the Same...
There is a sure sign that my hubby is not here: there is toilet paper on the rolls and they are all going in the correct direction (over the top-- thankyouverymuch).
Seriously, the transition "up north" began on Saturday when a truck pulling a U-Haul trailer pulled out of our driveway. D. and I waved goodbye and I wiped away a tear before turning to go inside. Sure, he's been on business trips plenty of times--as have I--but this time it felt different. And yes, he'll even be home on the weekends until we're all together...but it still felt different.
Even now. As I sit here at my computer in the wee hours of the morning, I can usually hear his soft breathing as he sleeps. But tonight, it's quiet. Very quiet. Deafening, almost. There'll be too much room in that bed when I crawl under the covers shortly and when I wake in the morning I won't hear his razor humming or receive my requisite good morning kiss on the forehead. I'm really quite sad.
One of the hardest parts is simply having him as a back-up if needed. From brushing D.'s hair while I change J.'s diaper to helping in the kitchen or even taking out the trash... it's different without that "safety net". I likened getting ready for church this morning to one of those performers who tries to keep plates or basketballs spinning all at the same time. J. would start crying so I'd run over and retrieve his dropped pacifier just as D. was asking for help with his pants. As I run into D.'s room to help him with pants, the phone would ring and, as I answered the phone, J. would start screaming again...and the iron was beeping that it was ready...and D. couldn't find a shoe...and...and...and... it really was quite comical. And, truthfully, I missed having adult conversation as we got ready as much as I missed the extra set of hands. (disclaimer: I know many women may go through this even when their hubby IS at home...I'm extremely blessed to have a hubby that helps out as much as he does. He is a TERRIFIC husband. I guess that's why it's that much harder when he's gone.)
Although I am saddened to be leaving our home here so quickly, the feeling I have here alone tonight reassures me that we're making the right decision.
I miss my hubby and will be counting the hours until Friday.
Seriously, the transition "up north" began on Saturday when a truck pulling a U-Haul trailer pulled out of our driveway. D. and I waved goodbye and I wiped away a tear before turning to go inside. Sure, he's been on business trips plenty of times--as have I--but this time it felt different. And yes, he'll even be home on the weekends until we're all together...but it still felt different.
Even now. As I sit here at my computer in the wee hours of the morning, I can usually hear his soft breathing as he sleeps. But tonight, it's quiet. Very quiet. Deafening, almost. There'll be too much room in that bed when I crawl under the covers shortly and when I wake in the morning I won't hear his razor humming or receive my requisite good morning kiss on the forehead. I'm really quite sad.
One of the hardest parts is simply having him as a back-up if needed. From brushing D.'s hair while I change J.'s diaper to helping in the kitchen or even taking out the trash... it's different without that "safety net". I likened getting ready for church this morning to one of those performers who tries to keep plates or basketballs spinning all at the same time. J. would start crying so I'd run over and retrieve his dropped pacifier just as D. was asking for help with his pants. As I run into D.'s room to help him with pants, the phone would ring and, as I answered the phone, J. would start screaming again...and the iron was beeping that it was ready...and D. couldn't find a shoe...and...and...and... it really was quite comical. And, truthfully, I missed having adult conversation as we got ready as much as I missed the extra set of hands. (disclaimer: I know many women may go through this even when their hubby IS at home...I'm extremely blessed to have a hubby that helps out as much as he does. He is a TERRIFIC husband. I guess that's why it's that much harder when he's gone.)
Although I am saddened to be leaving our home here so quickly, the feeling I have here alone tonight reassures me that we're making the right decision.
I miss my hubby and will be counting the hours until Friday.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Blown Away...
I won a writing contest! I just received the email and could not have been more surprised! The Write-Away contest hosted by Scribbit requested submissions on the topic of love. The moment I heard about this from my pal Megan, I knew which one I would enter. The entry, A Lime Popsicle was written in honor of my Mom and a wonderful memory we shared while she was battling cancer. It happened just a few months before she passed away which makes it all the more special to me.
I am honored that this post was chosen as the winner and hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I did living it. It's definitely a "restore your faith in people" kinda story...that's for sure!
Thank you Michelle at Scribbit and guest judge Sabine. I'm genuinely surprised at being chosen!
I am honored that this post was chosen as the winner and hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I did living it. It's definitely a "restore your faith in people" kinda story...that's for sure!
Thank you Michelle at Scribbit and guest judge Sabine. I'm genuinely surprised at being chosen!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
We Are Family.....
Folks, the books are closed on BOTH of our adoptions! Let the praises ring. After four years, Daniel was officially re-adopted...meaning that he can now have a birth certificate on file in a state office of vital records instead of only having the one copy of his Russian birth certificate. He can now apply for a U.S. passport if needed.
At the same hearing, we were able to finalize Baby J's adoption and legally provide him with our last name and the best big brother ever. At the court session to support us were my Dad and his wife as well and Keith's brother and our sister-in-law along with our nephew.
It's official. Final. Case closed. We are a family of four and loving every minute of it.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Good Thing I Feed Off Stress...
...cause I surely won't go hungry ANY TIME SOON.
I must wax poetic:
Plans, they are a-changin'
I've learned not to use ink
When writing on my calendar
I'm almost at the brink
Of losing all my marbles
As I contemplate
All the balls we're juggling
It just must be my fate
To live a life that's crazy
I don't know what to say
I can certainly assure you
I don't plan it this way
It's not enough to parent
A newborn and such
Then add to that moving
It seems like too much
But God has a reason
For timing it so
I'll rely on His guidance
As I rush to and fro!
*****************
After our recent house hunting trip to Nashville, hubs and I have reached a (somewhat scary) concensus: the boys and I will be moving up to join him the weekend of March 14! Yes, I know that is 3 weeks away. THREE weeks. But, there is a great school there where we've decided to enroll the D-man and get him accustomed to going for a full day. There is also a fenced-in back yard with a great play set and, of course, DADDY. None of us were too thrilled with the prospect of being without each other for such a long period of time; therefore, we're at peace with our decision.
Away to preparing for the movers I go!
I couldn't get into TOO comfortable a routine. Why that would be unheard of! It would practically be.....oh, you know...... NORMAL.
We can't have that now, can we?
I must wax poetic:
Plans, they are a-changin'
I've learned not to use ink
When writing on my calendar
I'm almost at the brink
Of losing all my marbles
As I contemplate
All the balls we're juggling
It just must be my fate
To live a life that's crazy
I don't know what to say
I can certainly assure you
I don't plan it this way
It's not enough to parent
A newborn and such
Then add to that moving
It seems like too much
But God has a reason
For timing it so
I'll rely on His guidance
As I rush to and fro!
*****************
After our recent house hunting trip to Nashville, hubs and I have reached a (somewhat scary) concensus: the boys and I will be moving up to join him the weekend of March 14! Yes, I know that is 3 weeks away. THREE weeks. But, there is a great school there where we've decided to enroll the D-man and get him accustomed to going for a full day. There is also a fenced-in back yard with a great play set and, of course, DADDY. None of us were too thrilled with the prospect of being without each other for such a long period of time; therefore, we're at peace with our decision.
Away to preparing for the movers I go!
I couldn't get into TOO comfortable a routine. Why that would be unheard of! It would practically be.....oh, you know...... NORMAL.
We can't have that now, can we?
Friday, February 15, 2008
Whoo Doggie...
...what a day.
Now, I completely understand that JUST THIS MORNING I was lamenting my so-called "poverty" of spirit and how I longed to be dependent on God. You know, in the tough times.
Be careful what you wish for my internet friends. It's like prayin' for patience... there are just some things you don't do. Well, add talking about being spiritually dehydrated to the list. Cause I've been filled up. But, I sho' had a rough time gettin to that point today. One has to stop blubbering long enough to fully appreciate any spiritual growth taking place.
This is where I would normally preface a story with "I know there are people much worse off than me..." You know the drill. Well, I apparently forgot about that in the midst of today's happenings.
Without rehashing EVERY SINGLE DETAIL, suffice it to say there was some stress goin on. We were leaving for Nashville at 3:00pm. Today was my hub's last day at his current job and he had to turn in his company truck...so, for a week and half we are a one-car family. No problem. The plan was for me to pick hubs up at 3pm with the truck packed (I drive an SUV) and we'd hit the road.
Best laid plans, you know.
We've had painters in house for 3 days getting the inside spruced up to put on the market and the bill was coming to just under $2K. That's mighty pricy but fair for all the work they were doing. But, after having just adopted a child, anything over $29.99 is a stretch. They were due to be finished at 2pm and I was out running errands-- including an oil change cause I'd had a little leakage.
Fast forward to 2pm. It's my youngest child's feeding time and I have no extra bottle. I'm sitting in the waiting room of the mechanic and Baby J. decides (with his usual shriek) that is TIME TO FEED HIM NOWWWWWWWWWWWW. The mechanic walks out and breaks the news to me: I need a new engine...or a rebuild. Words like head gasket, oil pan, blown something-or-other... and then--the kicker-- $5000. Five THOUSAND? As in three ZEROS?
Baby is screaming, D. is asking when we can go home, painters are at my house waiting on THEIR money and the mechanic says I should not drive my car. Hubs has no car. My head is throbbing. We're supposed to be on the road to Nashville to look for housing since K. starts his job a week from Monday. My head started reeling and I asked for my keys and swore I would only be driving home--only a mile away.
Fast forward again...I'm sitting in a hotel in Nashville typing this. All my guys are asleep in the bedroom and I have just finished a long, hot shower and am comfy in my pj's. How did we get here? Well, I have an optimistic hubby who refuses to freak out. He calmly called for a rental car and came home saying that we will find the money somehow. This rental will get us through this next week and we will just DEPEND ON GOD for the rest.
I have a lot to be thankful for this evening. I'm thankful for a husband whose calm, even-keeled nature balances me beautifully. I'm thankful for two boys who slept the whole way here and are now sound asleep again. I'm thankful that we made it here safely and are now ready to explore this soon-to-be new town of ours. But, most of all, I'm thankful for my God...a God who hasn't given up on me and has blessed us with resources when we need them...far beyond what we deserve.
Goodnight, y'all. Here's hoping tomorrow will be a tad less eventful!
Now, I completely understand that JUST THIS MORNING I was lamenting my so-called "poverty" of spirit and how I longed to be dependent on God. You know, in the tough times.
Be careful what you wish for my internet friends. It's like prayin' for patience... there are just some things you don't do. Well, add talking about being spiritually dehydrated to the list. Cause I've been filled up. But, I sho' had a rough time gettin to that point today. One has to stop blubbering long enough to fully appreciate any spiritual growth taking place.
This is where I would normally preface a story with "I know there are people much worse off than me..." You know the drill. Well, I apparently forgot about that in the midst of today's happenings.
Without rehashing EVERY SINGLE DETAIL, suffice it to say there was some stress goin on. We were leaving for Nashville at 3:00pm. Today was my hub's last day at his current job and he had to turn in his company truck...so, for a week and half we are a one-car family. No problem. The plan was for me to pick hubs up at 3pm with the truck packed (I drive an SUV) and we'd hit the road.
Best laid plans, you know.
We've had painters in house for 3 days getting the inside spruced up to put on the market and the bill was coming to just under $2K. That's mighty pricy but fair for all the work they were doing. But, after having just adopted a child, anything over $29.99 is a stretch. They were due to be finished at 2pm and I was out running errands-- including an oil change cause I'd had a little leakage.
Fast forward to 2pm. It's my youngest child's feeding time and I have no extra bottle. I'm sitting in the waiting room of the mechanic and Baby J. decides (with his usual shriek) that is TIME TO FEED HIM NOWWWWWWWWWWWW. The mechanic walks out and breaks the news to me: I need a new engine...or a rebuild. Words like head gasket, oil pan, blown something-or-other... and then--the kicker-- $5000. Five THOUSAND? As in three ZEROS?
Baby is screaming, D. is asking when we can go home, painters are at my house waiting on THEIR money and the mechanic says I should not drive my car. Hubs has no car. My head is throbbing. We're supposed to be on the road to Nashville to look for housing since K. starts his job a week from Monday. My head started reeling and I asked for my keys and swore I would only be driving home--only a mile away.
Fast forward again...I'm sitting in a hotel in Nashville typing this. All my guys are asleep in the bedroom and I have just finished a long, hot shower and am comfy in my pj's. How did we get here? Well, I have an optimistic hubby who refuses to freak out. He calmly called for a rental car and came home saying that we will find the money somehow. This rental will get us through this next week and we will just DEPEND ON GOD for the rest.
I have a lot to be thankful for this evening. I'm thankful for a husband whose calm, even-keeled nature balances me beautifully. I'm thankful for two boys who slept the whole way here and are now sound asleep again. I'm thankful that we made it here safely and are now ready to explore this soon-to-be new town of ours. But, most of all, I'm thankful for my God...a God who hasn't given up on me and has blessed us with resources when we need them...far beyond what we deserve.
Goodnight, y'all. Here's hoping tomorrow will be a tad less eventful!
Poverty of a Different Sort
Painters are here repainting many of the rooms in our house as we get ready to put it on the market in a couple weeks. In anticipation of their arrival, I dug a myriad of toys out from under my 6-year old's bed. Baskets and wooden crates of toys overflowed onto the floor, their contents including small armies of toy soldiers and enough trucks to host his own miniature Monster Truck Rally. The excess of it all crossed my mind but didn't really have that big an impact on me until I read a fellow blogger's post from his time in Uganda with Compassion International.
That's when it hit me.
D. has so many toys, I am sure that he has forgotten he even has many of them. And, trust me, he doesn't have even a fraction of what some of his friends have. I have been in play rooms where the abundance of toys, games and gadgets is so great, one has to clear a path by wading through the sea of items strown about the room. Believe me, my child has PLENTY.
Then I read this.
It hit me like a brick between the eyes. We are suffering from our own form of poverty. We may have many things but do these things distract us from forming a true appreciation of and relationship with God? I can attest that many of the THINGS in my life are a barrier to my dependance on Him. I'm connected in every way a person can be. Internet, email, fax, cell phone and, yes, this blog...all ways of keeping in touch with family and friends. And, I could argue that the internet has opened my eyes to issues that rekindle my desire to be close to Him (like the story above). But do any of those enrich my dependance on God? No.
Like the blogger above, I do not wish poverty on my child. But, I do think that the simple pleasure of a roughly-fashioned pull toy in the hands of that Ugandan child is an image I'm not likely to forget.
I may not be materially impoverished...but I do think I am at least a little spiritually dehydrated. I want to depend on God for my needs.
And, you know what? He wants that, too.
That's when it hit me.
D. has so many toys, I am sure that he has forgotten he even has many of them. And, trust me, he doesn't have even a fraction of what some of his friends have. I have been in play rooms where the abundance of toys, games and gadgets is so great, one has to clear a path by wading through the sea of items strown about the room. Believe me, my child has PLENTY.
Then I read this.
It hit me like a brick between the eyes. We are suffering from our own form of poverty. We may have many things but do these things distract us from forming a true appreciation of and relationship with God? I can attest that many of the THINGS in my life are a barrier to my dependance on Him. I'm connected in every way a person can be. Internet, email, fax, cell phone and, yes, this blog...all ways of keeping in touch with family and friends. And, I could argue that the internet has opened my eyes to issues that rekindle my desire to be close to Him (like the story above). But do any of those enrich my dependance on God? No.
Like the blogger above, I do not wish poverty on my child. But, I do think that the simple pleasure of a roughly-fashioned pull toy in the hands of that Ugandan child is an image I'm not likely to forget.
I may not be materially impoverished...but I do think I am at least a little spiritually dehydrated. I want to depend on God for my needs.
And, you know what? He wants that, too.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Happy Valentines Day
Dear KT:
I wanted to do something special for you this Valentines Day. The easy thing would’ve been for me to buy something from a store, but I wanted to give you something you can hold on to.
Although the posts on your blog tell a lot about you as a person, they only tell your side of the story….I’d like to take some space to let everyone know my side of the story by thanking you for just a few of the ways you have made my life wonderful…
Thank you for taking a chance on me 15 years ago.
Thank you for your honesty and bravery during the storms of life
Thank you for making our house a home
Thank you for making me want to come home to you everyday
Thank you for teaching me to find the beauty in the everyday things (like the sound of a rainstorm)
Thank you for challenging me to become a stronger person
Thank you for believing in me
Thank you for allowing me to follow my dreams
Thank you for keeping me grounded
Thank you for being a wonderful mom to the boys
Thank you for wanting to be the kool-aid mom
Thank you for wanting to be a better mother even though you know the challenges that lie ahead
There are so many more things for which I could say thank you, but this space just doesn’t have enough room. I just wanted to share a very brief glimpse of the person who makes my life complete.
Happy Valentines Day. I love you with all my heart.
Love,
P
PS I forgot to thank you for the boat you said I might get to own one day, maybe...
Vapor Rub 'n Fireworks
Every situation is made up of ingredients: a time, a place, maybe other people and the circumstances that tie them all together.
Do you have a favorite memory...a particular time when you felt loved and that everything was alright with the world...where you felt, most of all, safe? I have that kind of memory. And, when life feels a little overwhelming and uncertain, I turn to this memory like a well-worn blanket...a little tattered and faded but soft and familiar.
It was 1999 and my Mom had decided to go along with me on a business conference in San Diego. She didn't get to travel much and, since the lodging was paid for, I thought it would be a treat to bring her a long for the ride. We had a blast.
But, on the last evening of the meeting, I developed a migraine and became pretty much incapacitated. We were both disappointed because the closing entertainment that evening was Kenny Loggins performing at a venue on the water a few blocks away. We had so looked forward to going.
But instead we were room-bound and my Mom's maternal instincts kicked into high gear. Using her traditional comfort method of Vick Vapor Rub slathered under my nose and a warm compress soothing my temples, she gently laid my head in her lap and slowly squeezed my head to help relieve the pain.
We had ordered room service as well as a movie and decided to make a night of it as my headache slowly subsided. I'll never forget what a special treat it was for her when room service arrived. The pomp and circumstance of the waiter wheeling in our table, setting it up ever so carefully between our two beds and finishing with a fresh flower in a bud vase... well, that thrilled my Mom to no end.
After dinner, we happened to walk out on our balcony just as the post-concert fireworks burst into a kaliedescope of colors in the night sky. We stood there, side by side, in awe of this exciting end to our evening. If I close my eyes, I am instantly transported back to that special night.
Even as an adult woman, I encounter situations in life that make me want to run and duck for cover. Feelings of inadequacy, uncertainty and even physical issues like headaches encourage me to return to that room and that night in San Diego. Nearly a decade has gone by but the impact it had on my life is fresh in my mind. It's my warm and comforting blanket, enveloping me with the feeling that I am loved, I am safe and everything will be OK.
And, although I can no longer see those fireworks, each one of the brilliant colors displayed that night is a reminder of all the ways that special lady loved me. I miss her so.
Do you have a favorite memory...a particular time when you felt loved and that everything was alright with the world...where you felt, most of all, safe? I have that kind of memory. And, when life feels a little overwhelming and uncertain, I turn to this memory like a well-worn blanket...a little tattered and faded but soft and familiar.
It was 1999 and my Mom had decided to go along with me on a business conference in San Diego. She didn't get to travel much and, since the lodging was paid for, I thought it would be a treat to bring her a long for the ride. We had a blast.
But, on the last evening of the meeting, I developed a migraine and became pretty much incapacitated. We were both disappointed because the closing entertainment that evening was Kenny Loggins performing at a venue on the water a few blocks away. We had so looked forward to going.
But instead we were room-bound and my Mom's maternal instincts kicked into high gear. Using her traditional comfort method of Vick Vapor Rub slathered under my nose and a warm compress soothing my temples, she gently laid my head in her lap and slowly squeezed my head to help relieve the pain.
We had ordered room service as well as a movie and decided to make a night of it as my headache slowly subsided. I'll never forget what a special treat it was for her when room service arrived. The pomp and circumstance of the waiter wheeling in our table, setting it up ever so carefully between our two beds and finishing with a fresh flower in a bud vase... well, that thrilled my Mom to no end.
After dinner, we happened to walk out on our balcony just as the post-concert fireworks burst into a kaliedescope of colors in the night sky. We stood there, side by side, in awe of this exciting end to our evening. If I close my eyes, I am instantly transported back to that special night.
Even as an adult woman, I encounter situations in life that make me want to run and duck for cover. Feelings of inadequacy, uncertainty and even physical issues like headaches encourage me to return to that room and that night in San Diego. Nearly a decade has gone by but the impact it had on my life is fresh in my mind. It's my warm and comforting blanket, enveloping me with the feeling that I am loved, I am safe and everything will be OK.
And, although I can no longer see those fireworks, each one of the brilliant colors displayed that night is a reminder of all the ways that special lady loved me. I miss her so.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The Yellow Tree Swing
I drove up, put the car in park and spotted it hanging there.
The yellow tree swing.
Last summer, our son's only wish was to have a swing on which he'd soar over the deep creekbed in our back yard. So, that's exactly what we gave him. Hubs installed a bright yellow rope swing with a round plastic seat. It has since served our son and his friends well as they've flown through the air bellowing their finest tarzan-like yell...
As I got out of the car, I stood there gazing at the swing. I know there will be other yards for us. There might possibly be other swing-worthy trees, too. But the sight of that yellow seat surprisingly made me a little sad.
Sad to leave.
The yellow tree swing.
Last summer, our son's only wish was to have a swing on which he'd soar over the deep creekbed in our back yard. So, that's exactly what we gave him. Hubs installed a bright yellow rope swing with a round plastic seat. It has since served our son and his friends well as they've flown through the air bellowing their finest tarzan-like yell...
As I got out of the car, I stood there gazing at the swing. I know there will be other yards for us. There might possibly be other swing-worthy trees, too. But the sight of that yellow seat surprisingly made me a little sad.
Sad to leave.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Are You There Betty Crocker? It's Me, Katie.
I want to be good at baking. Honest I do.
You see, I have these grandiose dreams of me creating these scrumptiously beautiful baked goods that make people swoon. Cakes, desserts, cookies that melt in your mouth... but it ain't happenin' folks. And trust me, I don't use the word "ain't" without good cause so you KNOW it has to be bad.
Three o'clock rolled around this morning and the hungry cries of my 9-week old awoke me and, unfortunately, kept me awake. So, after I put him back down I decided to make my son's cupcakes for his school birthday party. Simple enough, right? Cupcakes from a box of cake mix. Directions on the back. What could be easier?
Um, lots of things, apparently.
By four a.m., I pulled out a muffin-tin-full o' cupcakes that looked more like muffins cause the tops had run over the sides. "I can salvage these," I reassure myself. Minutes later, I'm trimming the edges causing irrepairable damage to said cupcakes. I did try to ice one and...no...no...no... it was NOT A PRETTY SIGHT, MY FRIENDS.
So, I have some leftover batter and, since I resigned myself to the fact that I must now purchase (gasp) store-bought cupcakes, I'd get creative and make mini-loaves that I could then ice into a cake for the birthday boy. I can't handle cupcakes but suddenly I'm going to attempt a cake?
Mistake. Big mistake.
Step 2: Take a box of this:
You see, I have these grandiose dreams of me creating these scrumptiously beautiful baked goods that make people swoon. Cakes, desserts, cookies that melt in your mouth... but it ain't happenin' folks. And trust me, I don't use the word "ain't" without good cause so you KNOW it has to be bad.
Three o'clock rolled around this morning and the hungry cries of my 9-week old awoke me and, unfortunately, kept me awake. So, after I put him back down I decided to make my son's cupcakes for his school birthday party. Simple enough, right? Cupcakes from a box of cake mix. Directions on the back. What could be easier?
Um, lots of things, apparently.
By four a.m., I pulled out a muffin-tin-full o' cupcakes that looked more like muffins cause the tops had run over the sides. "I can salvage these," I reassure myself. Minutes later, I'm trimming the edges causing irrepairable damage to said cupcakes. I did try to ice one and...no...no...no... it was NOT A PRETTY SIGHT, MY FRIENDS.
So, I have some leftover batter and, since I resigned myself to the fact that I must now purchase (gasp) store-bought cupcakes, I'd get creative and make mini-loaves that I could then ice into a cake for the birthday boy. I can't handle cupcakes but suddenly I'm going to attempt a cake?
Mistake. Big mistake.
Yes. I took an uneven lump o' mini-loaves poorly iced it and then "spruced it up" with TINKER TOYS to look like truck parts. It is a sad, sad day in the cake world my friends. Wait til' the Food Network gets a hold of this one... there will be a new reality series called "Worst Cake EVER."
You see, I have a baby. And a house to sell and a full time job and...well, frankly, my level of creativity these days has gone the way of those 10 I.Q. points I insist I lost the day I became the mother of a newborn. It's not that I don't care. It's just NOT THERE anymore.
So, in the spirit of the fabulously effective cook Pioneer Woman, I shall document the glorious journey that resulted in my child's birthday cake:
Step 1: Wake up at 3:00am to do this:Step 2: Take a box of this:
Step 3: Your sink will probably look like this:
(OK, so the pots were from boiling some hard-boiled eggs. Unrelated culinary footage)
Step 4: And you end up with this:
There you have it, my "I-trust-you-not-to-mock-me-in-my-Comments-section" friends.
Don't ask me why it needed a mouth. I was desperate. It was 4:00am. I can't explain my actions.
But you know what? He loved it.
Will the wonders of parenthood never cease.
My 6-Year Old Wonder
You are a wonder, you are...
...a complex concoction of sweetness, goodness, mischief and chatterbox all wrapped up and neatly packaged into the cutest little boy I know.
Four years ago, I heard your sweet cry as the orphanage worker walked down the long hallway toward us-- it was then that I felt the pang, the wrenching bond that is the love of a child. Within minutes, I was transformed. I was no longer simply a woman. At that moment, I knew the very essence of parenthood and the power that such tiny hands could wield on my heart.
That was four years ago.
Now, as we celebrate your 6th birthday, I look at you with both awe and admiration. Your long, lean legs continue to bring you closer and closer to my gaze and your vocabulary (and ability to use it correctly) amazes me. You love all things football, Transformers and truck-related. You are doing great in school and are learning to read. We have conversations you and I. Politics, religion, American Idol, you name it...nothing is off-limits. You want so badly to be a grown-up. But, don't grow up too quickly ... my heart will break soon enough.
You have also gone through a huge transition ... becoming a big brother. I say this with the utmost sincerity: you are the best big brother in the world. I observe the way you comfort your brother and the way your face lights up when I bring him into a room. Your father and I are so incredibly proud of the "big boy" you're becoming.
Happy Birthday, Big Daddy. We love you more than words can say.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Well, We're Movin' on Up...
...up north, that is.
(Well, north for us, anyway!) My hubby has accepted a new position at a company in Nashville, Tennessee! Right now, we're just north of Atlanta and, although I've moved many times, this one has me a little woozy.
With a new baby, an event in April that I'm planning and a house to sell...my head spins at the thought of all there is to do! Getting the house ready to sell ("Realtor ready" as my Mom used to call it) while hubby starts his new job and I'm here with the kiddos and a crazy golden retriever is more than a little scary. I can't tell ya how many times I've said "I can do all things through Christ whom strengthens me..." but the proposition stills seems a bit daunting.
That said, we are excited about the opportunity and enjoyed getting to explore the area a bit when we went up last week for the interview. The job is actually in Brentwood which is south of Nashville and there are plenty of beautiful areas around there from which to choose.
So, if my blogging is a bit spotty for the next few months, don't give up on me. I'm either planning a meeting, changing a diaper, trying my best to get a burp, helping with homework, giving a bath, walking a dog or cleaning something.
But I will be back. I'm sure I'll have plenty of exciting things to write about from our new home. You know...line dancing lessons, lunch with Garth and Trisha... oh, all the regular ol' mundane stuff that I always share with you.
[wink]
Hang in there with me, folks.
(Well, north for us, anyway!) My hubby has accepted a new position at a company in Nashville, Tennessee! Right now, we're just north of Atlanta and, although I've moved many times, this one has me a little woozy.
With a new baby, an event in April that I'm planning and a house to sell...my head spins at the thought of all there is to do! Getting the house ready to sell ("Realtor ready" as my Mom used to call it) while hubby starts his new job and I'm here with the kiddos and a crazy golden retriever is more than a little scary. I can't tell ya how many times I've said "I can do all things through Christ whom strengthens me..." but the proposition stills seems a bit daunting.
That said, we are excited about the opportunity and enjoyed getting to explore the area a bit when we went up last week for the interview. The job is actually in Brentwood which is south of Nashville and there are plenty of beautiful areas around there from which to choose.
So, if my blogging is a bit spotty for the next few months, don't give up on me. I'm either planning a meeting, changing a diaper, trying my best to get a burp, helping with homework, giving a bath, walking a dog or cleaning something.
But I will be back. I'm sure I'll have plenty of exciting things to write about from our new home. You know...line dancing lessons, lunch with Garth and Trisha... oh, all the regular ol' mundane stuff that I always share with you.
[wink]
Hang in there with me, folks.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Romance on Aisle 2
"Sometimes romance can be found any ol' where...even Aisle 2 of a local grocery store." ~ a quote by Socrates, or Shakespeare, or...well, somebody musta said it at some point
We are in L.A. this weekend (Lower Alabama, of course) visiting my inlaws. And, because we just celebrated our thirteenth anniversary, they offered to watch the kiddos for us tonight so we could go and have a nice dinner together. Of course, we jumped at the chance.
Now, you must know, my inlaws live in a very small town about an hour and a half from any major metropolitan area. Therefore, in order to really "hit the town", we'd need to make a three-hour round trip journey which neither of us was really up to doing. So... we chose a little local restaurant--not "fancy" by any means but still really pleasant--at which to dine and practice our Fine Conversational Skills. It was nice.
But afterwards, we weren't ready to rush home just yet. Stop 2 on "Life Styles of the Young and In Love"-- FOOD WORLD. It's Saturday night and we're giddy and in love and...well, we needed baby formula.
But afterwards, we weren't ready to rush home just yet. Stop 2 on "Life Styles of the Young and In Love"-- FOOD WORLD. It's Saturday night and we're giddy and in love and...well, we needed baby formula.
So, we park the car and mosey in like we hadn't a care in the world. Hand-in-hand, we strolled past the ginormous helium-filled Valentine displays. Stuffed animals, boxes of chocolate-covered cherries and bottles of sparkling cider (ooh yeah) greeted us as we entered the second stop on our Romantical Journey. After each taking a turn on the "check your blood pressure" machine (a page straight out of a storybook romance, y'all), we surveyed the signs above each aisle until we spotted what we were looking for: "BABY NEEDS--Aisle 2."
Aisle 2 was a virtual clearinghouse...a menagirie if you will of pantyhose, moth balls, lipstick and diapers. This was the kind of aisle you wish to linger on out of sheer curiosity but you usually have a screaming child (or at least one begging for bubble gum) so an actual pause here for browsing is virtually unheard of.
Aisle 2 was a virtual clearinghouse...a menagirie if you will of pantyhose, moth balls, lipstick and diapers. This was the kind of aisle you wish to linger on out of sheer curiosity but you usually have a screaming child (or at least one begging for bubble gum) so an actual pause here for browsing is virtually unheard of.
Unless you're on a date, that is.
We stood there and marveled over baby products and formula ingredients and reminisced over a jar of Blueberry Buckle-- a shared childhood memory for us. I perused the hand lotions section while hubs debated which brand of chapped lip ointment would suit his needs. In short, we were a Vision of Love-Induced Togetherness if ever I'd seen one.
On the way home, I read to him by maplight excerpts from a friend's book of published essays heralding the quirkiness of life in the south. I couldn't help but chuckle to myelf as I thought that this very evening would have been a perfect addition to the collection.
Pulling up in the driveway, we noticed a sky full of stars and a wooden swing just perfect for two anniversary-celebratin' lovebirds. But instead, we chose to head inside--admittedly missing our boys and the joy they add to our lives. We made bottles, tucked in little wound-up bodies, read a bedtime story or three and once again lost ourselves in the comfortable and familiar routine of parenthood.
Some people would not consider our evening very romantic, you see. But, I'll always cherish the magic, the content-just-to-be-together splendor that happened on Aisle 2 of a small-town grocery store. Forget about diamond pendant necklaces and champagne glass-shaped bathtubs. Our evening was relaxed, comfortable and provided us with plenty of together time.
On the way home, I read to him by maplight excerpts from a friend's book of published essays heralding the quirkiness of life in the south. I couldn't help but chuckle to myelf as I thought that this very evening would have been a perfect addition to the collection.
Pulling up in the driveway, we noticed a sky full of stars and a wooden swing just perfect for two anniversary-celebratin' lovebirds. But instead, we chose to head inside--admittedly missing our boys and the joy they add to our lives. We made bottles, tucked in little wound-up bodies, read a bedtime story or three and once again lost ourselves in the comfortable and familiar routine of parenthood.
Some people would not consider our evening very romantic, you see. But, I'll always cherish the magic, the content-just-to-be-together splendor that happened on Aisle 2 of a small-town grocery store. Forget about diamond pendant necklaces and champagne glass-shaped bathtubs. Our evening was relaxed, comfortable and provided us with plenty of together time.
That's romantic enough for me.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Pillow Talk...of a Different Sort
I have a new favorite time.
I have always cherished our early morning time when it would be hubs, D. and I snuggling in the bed and talking about any ol' thing. Well, now that there are four people in our "familia", it's a tighter fit but a lot of fun.
This morning, we awoke in Selma, Alabama at my Dad's house. The topics of conversation were as vast and peculiar as usual but now we have a butter bean lying in the middle giggling at us all. In fact, just the mere sight of his big brother and J.'s face bursts into a smile. It really is the sweetest thing I have EVER seen.
This morning's "pillow talk" included the following deep-thought, betcha-never-considered-that revelations:
I have always cherished our early morning time when it would be hubs, D. and I snuggling in the bed and talking about any ol' thing. Well, now that there are four people in our "familia", it's a tighter fit but a lot of fun.
This morning, we awoke in Selma, Alabama at my Dad's house. The topics of conversation were as vast and peculiar as usual but now we have a butter bean lying in the middle giggling at us all. In fact, just the mere sight of his big brother and J.'s face bursts into a smile. It really is the sweetest thing I have EVER seen.
This morning's "pillow talk" included the following deep-thought, betcha-never-considered-that revelations:
- George Washington is on the dollar bill, he chopped down a cherry tree and he had wooden teeth. But, of course, my child had to offer up the clencher question: "Did he have termites in his teeth that kept him from eating? Termites eat wood, you know." He does have a point there, folks.
- D. announced that Daddy is the only one on our "team" not on The Injured List. Mommy has a paper cut on her pointy finger, D. has a bruise near his wrist and J. scratched the side of his cheek in the middle of the night. Geez. Will we make it through the weekend?
- D. then corrected himself and added that another person on our team was uninjured and that would be God. Because, if He were injured then He wouldn't be God. I asked him what was the one time God had been injured and he replied, "never. Well, 'cept for the time he was whipped and hanged on the cross and all." Well, yeah, 'cept for THAT time.
Finally, we ended our session with a rousing thumb-wrestling match which is COMPLETELY unfair because hubs has much bigger hands than I and I can never beat him 'cept when I cheat which a precocious little almost-six-year old child is quick to point out. Hmmph.
Pillow talk. Our version may not exactly fit the textbook definition. But, at this stage in my life, it offers me the sweetest, most authentic glimpse into what life is really all about.
It really is my favorite time of the day.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
No Matter What Brought You Here...
...I'm glad you stopped by!
Thanks to a little link love from the wonderful Beth at I Should Be Folding Laundry (still one of my favorite blog titles of all time), I have had quite an influx of new visitors. And now, a new blogging pal Sincerely Anna has connected and linked as well. Thank you, ladies. I'm honored because, to me, I'm always surprised if anyone other than family stops by. [grin] By the way, I was happy to let Anna borrow my cool, artsy-graphic-y blog header while I use this sad little one above. Don't get too used to it cause I'll need it back when I get cool and artsy-graphic-y. K? [wink]
It is interesting, though, to see what brings folks to a particular site. Just in the past two days, I have gotten a good chuckle out of the google searches that have led people to my lil' corner of the internet.
Here are just a few of my favorites:
Thanks to a little link love from the wonderful Beth at I Should Be Folding Laundry (still one of my favorite blog titles of all time), I have had quite an influx of new visitors. And now, a new blogging pal Sincerely Anna has connected and linked as well. Thank you, ladies. I'm honored because, to me, I'm always surprised if anyone other than family stops by. [grin] By the way, I was happy to let Anna borrow my cool, artsy-graphic-y blog header while I use this sad little one above. Don't get too used to it cause I'll need it back when I get cool and artsy-graphic-y. K? [wink]
It is interesting, though, to see what brings folks to a particular site. Just in the past two days, I have gotten a good chuckle out of the google searches that have led people to my lil' corner of the internet.
Here are just a few of my favorites:
Batman Crib Sheets -- ???
Rockmananoff picture
(sounds quite cultured, doesn't it?)
(sounds quite cultured, doesn't it?)
Poem for a red head little girl
(awww... they found my poem about my niece)
(awww... they found my poem about my niece)
Showing little chairs on the wall
(not quite sure what they were looking for? )
(not quite sure what they were looking for? )
Caramel corn body wash
(could my love of this Bath and Body Works product have garnered me a new friend?)
(could my love of this Bath and Body Works product have garnered me a new friend?)
and, of course, the bevy of people that wind up here by typing in some version of "Roses are Red..." They are obviously searching for some poetry inspiration -- not why I enjoy being up at 3:37am or how excited I was to have snow. Poor people.
Regardless of what led you to this site, I'm glad to have "met" you...if only briefly. Thanks for stopping by and, remember, we have an open-door policy. Drop by any time you'd like!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
3:37 am
It's 3:37am and I guess I could use this quiet time to solve the world's problems.
Or perhaps I could make yet another list of all the things I need to accomplish this week.
At 3:37 in the morning, my mind is surprisingly clear and alert and I should be using this time to contemplate, or postulate or any other big word that implies productivity.
But I'd rather be doing what I'm doing.
At 3:37 am, I gently rock you back and forth and whisper into your tiny little ear "shhhhh, good boy...."
The lullaby CD playing provides a perfect backdrop for our early morning exchange. Light, airy melodies bounce to and fro as you finish your bottle and fall into a satiated slumber. Back and forth, back and forth we rock as I hum the now-familiar tunes:
"Then we'll ride on a rocking horse...he'll jump over the moon of course..."
Somehow my own problems seem so small, so insignificant, at 3:37 am. As I watch you sleeping in my arms, I'm reminded of all the good things in life. I marvel at the fact that you know not the emotions of hate or jealousy or greed. Your heart has yet to experience the pain of sorrow or the thrill of true love... all these things will come in time.
But for now, the soothing sounds of the nursery tunes play, and the steady drumming of your in and out breaths dance upon my chest. There's no place I'd rather be and nothing I'd rather do...
...at 3:37 am.
Or perhaps I could make yet another list of all the things I need to accomplish this week.
At 3:37 in the morning, my mind is surprisingly clear and alert and I should be using this time to contemplate, or postulate or any other big word that implies productivity.
But I'd rather be doing what I'm doing.
At 3:37 am, I gently rock you back and forth and whisper into your tiny little ear "shhhhh, good boy...."
The lullaby CD playing provides a perfect backdrop for our early morning exchange. Light, airy melodies bounce to and fro as you finish your bottle and fall into a satiated slumber. Back and forth, back and forth we rock as I hum the now-familiar tunes:
"Baby love of mine, baby love of mine, I love you all time...."
At 3:37 am, while the whole world seems to be asleep, it's just you and me. I cherish this time the way a child cherishes the fleeting hours of a summer's day...knowing full well it won't last forever. This is special time. This is you and me time.
"Then we'll ride on a rocking horse...he'll jump over the moon of course..."
Somehow my own problems seem so small, so insignificant, at 3:37 am. As I watch you sleeping in my arms, I'm reminded of all the good things in life. I marvel at the fact that you know not the emotions of hate or jealousy or greed. Your heart has yet to experience the pain of sorrow or the thrill of true love... all these things will come in time.
But for now, the soothing sounds of the nursery tunes play, and the steady drumming of your in and out breaths dance upon my chest. There's no place I'd rather be and nothing I'd rather do...
...at 3:37 am.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Picture Time
I know how my internet pals love some pictures...enjoy!
Sweetness. Pure sweetness. 
More sweetness.
My handsome fella!
Yay! We got a basketball goal. Happy Dad and Boy.
Now that's a smile!
"Who us? We didn't do it! Promise!" (our son "J" and his pal Jackson--age 5 mo.)
My almost 6 year old!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
A Lime Popsicle
Love takes on many forms. I just never thought I would find love and grace in the form of a lime popsicle. Boy was I ever wrong.
When it came to sweets, my Mom loved all things green. Green Skittles, M&M's, jellybeans...but especially lime popsicles. If there were green popsicles in the freezer, we knew that those were reserved for Mom or you'd have some 'splainin to do later!
When Mom was battling cancer and having to endure endless rounds of chemo and radiation, it seemed as though her thirst and need for liquid increased tenfold. We would keep her stocked with her favorite drinks, pitchers of water and, of course, her favorite popsicles. There was only one problem. Because she also suffered from diabetes, she could only have sugar-free popsicles and no one carried a lime flavor that was sugar-free.
Her favorite brand--partly because of price and partly because they were just plain yummy--was the Budget Saver brand popsicle sold at Wal-Mart and most grocery stores. We would keep bags of sugar-free popsicles for Mom to munch on when her excessive thirst would hit. One day, she said, "I wonder why this brand doesn't make the lime in the sugar-free, too? What I wouldn't give to have a lime popsicle!"
That's when my wheels started turning.
You must know that the last few years of my Mom's life were anything but easy. Saddled with a bevy of issues from Fibromyalgia to the worst foe -- cancer -- she did everything she could to maintain a positive outlook and a "let's beat this thing" attitude. But, toward the end, she became tired and weary and needed to be carried emotionally instead of being the strong one for all of us. She deserved a lime popsicle that she could eat, I decided. So, I was intent on making that happen.
So I sat down and wrote a letter to the Ziegenfelder Company (manufacturer of the Budget Saver brand) which is located in West Virginia. I told them all about my Mom, how much she loved their product and how much she wanted a sugar-free lime popsicle. Knowing that they would not change their product line because of one little letter, I did it in part to try and help my Mom since I couldn't take her illness away.
A few weeks later, I was at my parents' home in Selma, Alabama helping my dad take care of Mom during her treatments. By this time, she was not able to fully do for herself and an extra set of hands was necessary. One afternoon, I heard the doorbell ring and I walked to the door to see who it was. It was not a visitor, but instead, a huge brown box that sat waiting on the front porch.
As I opened the door, I noticed a large label that read "DRY ICE" on the front of the box. Dry ice? What in the world? Then I read the shipper's name: The Ziegenfelder Company.
What? This can't be possible. A corporation has actually responded to the letter of a lowly customer in Alabama?
Yes, yes they did.
I pushed the box (the size of a large television, mind you) into the room where my Mom was sitting. I opened the letter inside and began to read how this company had been touched by my Mom's story and, although they could not add another flavor to their sugar-free line due to production constraints, they wanted to do something special for her. It went on to say that they had made the decision to suspend their normal production schedule for an entire day and produce only SUGAR-FREE LIME POPSICLES for my Mom.
That's right. The entire big box delivered to her was full of bags containing specially-made, not available anywhere else, only for my Mom, sugar-free lime popsicles. Tears filled our eyes and I started jumping up and down with glee.
Little did this company know what they had done. I'm sure they knew they were doing a good thing by granting our request...if only temporarily. But as I watched the smile climb across Mom's face as we unloaded bags and bags of her dream popsicle into the freezer, I silently thanked them. I thanked them in my heart (and with a phone call, of course) for listening and for caring and, most of all, for making this special woman's dreams come true.
Love does present itself in many forms. But on this day, love came in the form of a lime popsicle. A popsicle that brought a look of joy to my Mom's face that hadn't been there in a very long time.
That is a day I will never forget.
When it came to sweets, my Mom loved all things green. Green Skittles, M&M's, jellybeans...but especially lime popsicles. If there were green popsicles in the freezer, we knew that those were reserved for Mom or you'd have some 'splainin to do later!
When Mom was battling cancer and having to endure endless rounds of chemo and radiation, it seemed as though her thirst and need for liquid increased tenfold. We would keep her stocked with her favorite drinks, pitchers of water and, of course, her favorite popsicles. There was only one problem. Because she also suffered from diabetes, she could only have sugar-free popsicles and no one carried a lime flavor that was sugar-free.
Her favorite brand--partly because of price and partly because they were just plain yummy--was the Budget Saver brand popsicle sold at Wal-Mart and most grocery stores. We would keep bags of sugar-free popsicles for Mom to munch on when her excessive thirst would hit. One day, she said, "I wonder why this brand doesn't make the lime in the sugar-free, too? What I wouldn't give to have a lime popsicle!"
That's when my wheels started turning.
You must know that the last few years of my Mom's life were anything but easy. Saddled with a bevy of issues from Fibromyalgia to the worst foe -- cancer -- she did everything she could to maintain a positive outlook and a "let's beat this thing" attitude. But, toward the end, she became tired and weary and needed to be carried emotionally instead of being the strong one for all of us. She deserved a lime popsicle that she could eat, I decided. So, I was intent on making that happen.
So I sat down and wrote a letter to the Ziegenfelder Company (manufacturer of the Budget Saver brand) which is located in West Virginia. I told them all about my Mom, how much she loved their product and how much she wanted a sugar-free lime popsicle. Knowing that they would not change their product line because of one little letter, I did it in part to try and help my Mom since I couldn't take her illness away.
A few weeks later, I was at my parents' home in Selma, Alabama helping my dad take care of Mom during her treatments. By this time, she was not able to fully do for herself and an extra set of hands was necessary. One afternoon, I heard the doorbell ring and I walked to the door to see who it was. It was not a visitor, but instead, a huge brown box that sat waiting on the front porch.
As I opened the door, I noticed a large label that read "DRY ICE" on the front of the box. Dry ice? What in the world? Then I read the shipper's name: The Ziegenfelder Company.
What? This can't be possible. A corporation has actually responded to the letter of a lowly customer in Alabama?
Yes, yes they did.
I pushed the box (the size of a large television, mind you) into the room where my Mom was sitting. I opened the letter inside and began to read how this company had been touched by my Mom's story and, although they could not add another flavor to their sugar-free line due to production constraints, they wanted to do something special for her. It went on to say that they had made the decision to suspend their normal production schedule for an entire day and produce only SUGAR-FREE LIME POPSICLES for my Mom.
That's right. The entire big box delivered to her was full of bags containing specially-made, not available anywhere else, only for my Mom, sugar-free lime popsicles. Tears filled our eyes and I started jumping up and down with glee.
Little did this company know what they had done. I'm sure they knew they were doing a good thing by granting our request...if only temporarily. But as I watched the smile climb across Mom's face as we unloaded bags and bags of her dream popsicle into the freezer, I silently thanked them. I thanked them in my heart (and with a phone call, of course) for listening and for caring and, most of all, for making this special woman's dreams come true.
Love does present itself in many forms. But on this day, love came in the form of a lime popsicle. A popsicle that brought a look of joy to my Mom's face that hadn't been there in a very long time.
That is a day I will never forget.
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