In addition to the serious thins I am thankful for…(Jesus Christ, My family, kids, hub, my pets, my health, my friends, having all my needs met…)
I have listed and additional 20 things that make my life much more enjoyable!
Things I am Thankful For:
1. White composite filling material for my teeth. I have a bazillion fillings, but I can fool people into thinking I have perfect teeth!
2. Instant mashed potatoes.
3. Along the same lines…frozen pancakes.
4. HGTV, Lifetime, and Soapnet or as I call them…the Estrogen Trio.
5. Mr. Clean Magic Erasers.
6. Facebook--what an incredibly wonderful old-friend finder, new friend maker, Farmville/mafiawar addicting guilty pleasure.
7. Sensual Amber Bath and Body Works Lotion. Nobody knows I just stepped in puppy poo or somebody puked on me once I use this cover-scent.
8. Toll House Flipsides Pretzel Crackers. One of my guilty pleasures. Almost as good as a Reese Cup.--Half pretzel, half cracker.
9. Bud Light Lime and Backporchin’
10. Country Music and Hole in the wall Honky Tonks.
11. Nerf Dart Guns
12. Pine Sol (beyond it’s huge aphrodisiac quailties for my hub, I can also fill my sink with the stuff and everybody thinks my disgustingly dirty house is clean.
13. The Hamilton Beach Brewstation
14. Crest White Strips--takes care of the stains incurred in # 13
15. “Stretch” jeans (I find this one ESPECIALLY beneficial during this time of the year)
16. Hazelnut lattes
17. Clear spray Sunblock--not sure what I did back when I actually had to use my actual hands and “rub” it in.
18. Going through Whistling Tony’s aisle at Walmart.
19. Fleece Jammies--nothing quite like coming home cold and tired and surrounding yourself in quality K-Mart fleece. Aahhh…that’s the life
20. I would be amiss if I left out my cell phone. The thought of losing my phone or it getting destroyed gives me heart palpitations. I need that thing with me at all times…My lifeline my hub calls it. It’s true. I admit it and I am sure I need an intervention, but I really don’t want to imagine a world without cell phones. I love you Samsung Alias and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Post Marley & Me Reflections...
Post Marley & Me Reflections…
Saturday night the kids went on sleepovers and I finally got a chance to stake my claim to the television. I rented Marley & Me. If you haven’t read the book or watched the movie…stop reading right here and go do that and then get back to my blog…it’ll be in my notes.
I had heard how this movie was going to make me cry. That’s a given for pretty much any movie for me though, so I was ready for that…
What I wasn’t ready for was an incredible story that I felt like I could’ve written myself. I can’t think of a movie where there were so many things that I could relate to…so many things that seemed to have been pulled right out of one of my journals. Of course the story wouldn't have been the same without Marley, but it was so much more than a movie about a dog.
I didn’t have a list going into my marriage. I’m not a big planner. And I’ve thought a lot about how life would’ve turned out if I would’ve had a plan…a 3 year plan…a 5 year plan…a 10 year plan. Kevin and I moved in together on Halloween of 1996. When we moved in together, I was taking about 15 credit hours at Concord and 12 at National Business College. I was in transition of transferring over to National Business College because I wasn’t sure that teaching was the route I wanted to take. Kevin worked all day and I went to school day and night and we met up for dinner and then he left for welding school at night.
He finished up his welding training in May of 1997 and I finished up at National in the fall of 97 right after we got married in August. I went through the May graduation ceremony at National all decked out in my cap and gown with my 4.0 average and my big ole belly…I was 6 months pregnant.
I had a short stint working in Bluefield at Willis Chiropractic--I was part-time and working mostly Saturday mornings and all day Saturday Health Fairs. After I found out I was pregnant, I knew immediately that I could not imagine a life of me working and somebody else with baby, so I quit my job and put every ounce of my being into preparing to be a Mom. Of course I would learn that within a year, the full-time Office Administrator would accept a job elsewhere and I could’ve worked myself into a great job. Ha. Wasn’t important to me then though.
October 4, 2:30 a.m. brought 9 lb., 4 .5 ounce Riley Parker Griffith into the world. I remember feeling exhausted and clueless and just a baby myself at a mere 21 years old. I brought this bundle home and spent every waking (and sleeping!) moment with him. We ate together, we slept together, we watched Barney together, we swung on the porch swing together, we went to the park together, we shopped at the mall together, we read and sang together. I loved being a Mom.
In 1999, we bought a house. It was a modest three bedroom house in a neighborhood in Bluefield that I loved. Kevin had landed a job in a coal prep plant that put us in a pretty good financial situation, so life was really great.
In July of 2001, I found out I was pregnant. I was completely overjoyed. I scheduled my doctor’s appointment and they did the early ultrasound, but couldn’t see the heartbeat, but I was still quite early, so I came back in a week. Still no heartbeat. So I came back in another week. Still no heartbeat and the measurements didn’t seem to look right either. I remember laying on that table and feeling so disappointed and heartbroken. When that scene occurred in the movie, I thought I had put all of that behind me…you reason that things happen in God’s timetable and you move on as best as you can. I think the truth is that you never completely heal from things like that. You just tuck them away and as time and life happens, they get better. I remember coming home and standing in the hallway and hugging Kevin and just crying…and crying and crying. So the scene when Jen hugs Marley and cries on the couch really triggered that moment back for me. I felt like I was transplanted back 8 years ago.
I was mad at the world, I was mad at God, and I was DEFINITELY not going to have anymore children because I could not risk that again. That was July 31, 2001.
Thanksgiving of that year, we would announce to our parents that we were having another baby.
July 25, 2002, Natalie Gray Griffith enters the world and our hearts.
January 2003, we would learn we were leaving Bluefield and moving to Covington.
March 25, 2003, Kevin started at the mill.
August 2003, we bought our house in Covington.
August 2004, Riley starts Kindergarten.
November 2004, I’m pregnant again. Just like in the movie, it was a shocker. The greatest surprise I’ve ever received though.
August 2007, Natalie starts Kindergarten--and I start classes at Dabney in pursuit of my Bachelor’s.
October 2008, I take the job as our church secretary.
August 2009, 3 kids in soccer, 2 in school and one in preschool…I decide to take a semester off from school to attempt to keep up with life.
October 2009...Life is a whirlwind. I am exhausted.
How many times have I had those mini-breakdowns on my bed just like in the movie where she is sooo tired that she can’t function? How many times have I cried in my pillow because somewhere in this life I feel like Amanda is lost somewhere under a pile of school permission forms, overdue bills, dirty laundry and forgotten dental appointments?
At some point though, I have to step back and forget plans, and regrets, and make sure I’m not missing out on the life that is happening right before my eyes. It won’t be there forever.
I have wondered if I would’ve been a better working mom than a stay-at-home mom. I’ve even wondered in my darkest hours if I was even supposed to be a mom. Then somebody will pick me a dead dandelion or give me an oreo-faced kiss and I know that this is where I’m supposed to be. Right here.
I’m probably never going to have a dime to my name. Maybe I’ll never have one single story I write ever published. But if I can raise these three children to be loving and gracious…to love God and others…then I will have accomplished something wonderful and more important than anything else on earth.
Saturday night the kids went on sleepovers and I finally got a chance to stake my claim to the television. I rented Marley & Me. If you haven’t read the book or watched the movie…stop reading right here and go do that and then get back to my blog…it’ll be in my notes.
I had heard how this movie was going to make me cry. That’s a given for pretty much any movie for me though, so I was ready for that…
What I wasn’t ready for was an incredible story that I felt like I could’ve written myself. I can’t think of a movie where there were so many things that I could relate to…so many things that seemed to have been pulled right out of one of my journals. Of course the story wouldn't have been the same without Marley, but it was so much more than a movie about a dog.
I didn’t have a list going into my marriage. I’m not a big planner. And I’ve thought a lot about how life would’ve turned out if I would’ve had a plan…a 3 year plan…a 5 year plan…a 10 year plan. Kevin and I moved in together on Halloween of 1996. When we moved in together, I was taking about 15 credit hours at Concord and 12 at National Business College. I was in transition of transferring over to National Business College because I wasn’t sure that teaching was the route I wanted to take. Kevin worked all day and I went to school day and night and we met up for dinner and then he left for welding school at night.
He finished up his welding training in May of 1997 and I finished up at National in the fall of 97 right after we got married in August. I went through the May graduation ceremony at National all decked out in my cap and gown with my 4.0 average and my big ole belly…I was 6 months pregnant.
I had a short stint working in Bluefield at Willis Chiropractic--I was part-time and working mostly Saturday mornings and all day Saturday Health Fairs. After I found out I was pregnant, I knew immediately that I could not imagine a life of me working and somebody else with baby, so I quit my job and put every ounce of my being into preparing to be a Mom. Of course I would learn that within a year, the full-time Office Administrator would accept a job elsewhere and I could’ve worked myself into a great job. Ha. Wasn’t important to me then though.
October 4, 2:30 a.m. brought 9 lb., 4 .5 ounce Riley Parker Griffith into the world. I remember feeling exhausted and clueless and just a baby myself at a mere 21 years old. I brought this bundle home and spent every waking (and sleeping!) moment with him. We ate together, we slept together, we watched Barney together, we swung on the porch swing together, we went to the park together, we shopped at the mall together, we read and sang together. I loved being a Mom.
In 1999, we bought a house. It was a modest three bedroom house in a neighborhood in Bluefield that I loved. Kevin had landed a job in a coal prep plant that put us in a pretty good financial situation, so life was really great.
In July of 2001, I found out I was pregnant. I was completely overjoyed. I scheduled my doctor’s appointment and they did the early ultrasound, but couldn’t see the heartbeat, but I was still quite early, so I came back in a week. Still no heartbeat. So I came back in another week. Still no heartbeat and the measurements didn’t seem to look right either. I remember laying on that table and feeling so disappointed and heartbroken. When that scene occurred in the movie, I thought I had put all of that behind me…you reason that things happen in God’s timetable and you move on as best as you can. I think the truth is that you never completely heal from things like that. You just tuck them away and as time and life happens, they get better. I remember coming home and standing in the hallway and hugging Kevin and just crying…and crying and crying. So the scene when Jen hugs Marley and cries on the couch really triggered that moment back for me. I felt like I was transplanted back 8 years ago.
I was mad at the world, I was mad at God, and I was DEFINITELY not going to have anymore children because I could not risk that again. That was July 31, 2001.
Thanksgiving of that year, we would announce to our parents that we were having another baby.
July 25, 2002, Natalie Gray Griffith enters the world and our hearts.
January 2003, we would learn we were leaving Bluefield and moving to Covington.
March 25, 2003, Kevin started at the mill.
August 2003, we bought our house in Covington.
August 2004, Riley starts Kindergarten.
November 2004, I’m pregnant again. Just like in the movie, it was a shocker. The greatest surprise I’ve ever received though.
August 2007, Natalie starts Kindergarten--and I start classes at Dabney in pursuit of my Bachelor’s.
October 2008, I take the job as our church secretary.
August 2009, 3 kids in soccer, 2 in school and one in preschool…I decide to take a semester off from school to attempt to keep up with life.
October 2009...Life is a whirlwind. I am exhausted.
How many times have I had those mini-breakdowns on my bed just like in the movie where she is sooo tired that she can’t function? How many times have I cried in my pillow because somewhere in this life I feel like Amanda is lost somewhere under a pile of school permission forms, overdue bills, dirty laundry and forgotten dental appointments?
At some point though, I have to step back and forget plans, and regrets, and make sure I’m not missing out on the life that is happening right before my eyes. It won’t be there forever.
I have wondered if I would’ve been a better working mom than a stay-at-home mom. I’ve even wondered in my darkest hours if I was even supposed to be a mom. Then somebody will pick me a dead dandelion or give me an oreo-faced kiss and I know that this is where I’m supposed to be. Right here.
I’m probably never going to have a dime to my name. Maybe I’ll never have one single story I write ever published. But if I can raise these three children to be loving and gracious…to love God and others…then I will have accomplished something wonderful and more important than anything else on earth.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
You might be a Mom…
If you have ever lifted a child over your head only to have formula cover every inch of your scalp.
If you have received the dreaded “Your child has head lice letter” from the school nurse and then proceeded to the drugstore in a disguise to buy the treatment shampoo.
If you have ever been embarrassed in the Cracker Barrel bathroom stall when a proud 3 year old announces, “Mom, I went potty! Good job Mommy, you went potty, too! You get a sticker, too!”
If you have permanent scarring on your heel from stepping on a Lego in the floor.
If you have ever done the lick and wipe before you unload the kids from the mini van in the parking lot.
If you DRIVE a mini van.
If you have ever put 3 birthday candles on the cake when it’s actually your son’s 4th birthday.
If you have ever made a Halloween costume out of Reynold‘s Wrap and duct tape.
If you haven’t flossed in three years.
If coffee is a food group for you.
If you have considered drinking before 8:45 a.m.
If you have ever resorted to wearing black and white stripes and a whistle around your neck.
If you hold a party at your house for all the neighborhood Moms on the first day back to school.
If you have band-aids, germ-ex and teddy grahams in your purse.
If you have eaten teddy grahams out of the bottom of your purse.
If you have ever jumped out of your seat and hollered, “That’s my girl!“ when your child scored a basket.
If you have shown your coworkers more than 75 pictures of your little sleeping angel.
If you have ever used the words, “Because I said so!”
If you have made a play-doh pizza with 15 different toppings.
If you buy Ketchup directly from Heinz.
If the Walmart workers high-five you and call you by name when you come in to buy groceries.
If people run to get in front of your 2 cart-loads of groceries in the Walmart checkout.
If you can recite every Sponge Bob episode ever made.
If Kid’s Bop is in your CD player in the car.
If your family thinks the dinner bell is the squawking of the smoke detector.
If you never know who will be in bed with you when you wake up!
If you have gotten in your car and realized you still have on your slippers.
If your favorite vacation spot is a Friday night on the couch in the middle of your kids.
If you have laid in the middle of the yard and discovered mythical creatures in the clouds.
If you can make one heck of a mud pie.
If you have ever written a note and secretly placed in a lunchbox.
If you have a close working relationship with the Tickle Monster.
If you have ever left a note to the Tooth Fairy explaining that it was all your fault that the tooth ended up in the trash and please do not penalize the child.
If your refrigerator is unrecognizable because of all the artwork adorning it.
If you have run the school bus down to get a backpack to your child.
If your child’s pediatrician is on your Christmas Card List.
If a bedtime prayer brings tears to your eyes.
If you refer to facebook as “My lifeline to the adult world.”
If every night of your life ends with the words “Love you more.” ~arg
If you have ever lifted a child over your head only to have formula cover every inch of your scalp.
If you have received the dreaded “Your child has head lice letter” from the school nurse and then proceeded to the drugstore in a disguise to buy the treatment shampoo.
If you have ever been embarrassed in the Cracker Barrel bathroom stall when a proud 3 year old announces, “Mom, I went potty! Good job Mommy, you went potty, too! You get a sticker, too!”
If you have permanent scarring on your heel from stepping on a Lego in the floor.
If you have ever done the lick and wipe before you unload the kids from the mini van in the parking lot.
If you DRIVE a mini van.
If you have ever put 3 birthday candles on the cake when it’s actually your son’s 4th birthday.
If you have ever made a Halloween costume out of Reynold‘s Wrap and duct tape.
If you haven’t flossed in three years.
If coffee is a food group for you.
If you have considered drinking before 8:45 a.m.
If you have ever resorted to wearing black and white stripes and a whistle around your neck.
If you hold a party at your house for all the neighborhood Moms on the first day back to school.
If you have band-aids, germ-ex and teddy grahams in your purse.
If you have eaten teddy grahams out of the bottom of your purse.
If you have ever jumped out of your seat and hollered, “That’s my girl!“ when your child scored a basket.
If you have shown your coworkers more than 75 pictures of your little sleeping angel.
If you have ever used the words, “Because I said so!”
If you have made a play-doh pizza with 15 different toppings.
If you buy Ketchup directly from Heinz.
If the Walmart workers high-five you and call you by name when you come in to buy groceries.
If people run to get in front of your 2 cart-loads of groceries in the Walmart checkout.
If you can recite every Sponge Bob episode ever made.
If Kid’s Bop is in your CD player in the car.
If your family thinks the dinner bell is the squawking of the smoke detector.
If you never know who will be in bed with you when you wake up!
If you have gotten in your car and realized you still have on your slippers.
If your favorite vacation spot is a Friday night on the couch in the middle of your kids.
If you have laid in the middle of the yard and discovered mythical creatures in the clouds.
If you can make one heck of a mud pie.
If you have ever written a note and secretly placed in a lunchbox.
If you have a close working relationship with the Tickle Monster.
If you have ever left a note to the Tooth Fairy explaining that it was all your fault that the tooth ended up in the trash and please do not penalize the child.
If your refrigerator is unrecognizable because of all the artwork adorning it.
If you have run the school bus down to get a backpack to your child.
If your child’s pediatrician is on your Christmas Card List.
If a bedtime prayer brings tears to your eyes.
If you refer to facebook as “My lifeline to the adult world.”
If every night of your life ends with the words “Love you more.” ~arg
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Take a lil' walk through the country with me
So a week or so ago I decided I wanted to move out in the country. Like WAAAY out in the country. I started scouring through realtor.com for houses and property in Sweet Springs, Union, Gap Mills...all of those places where you can only get to deliberately--you never just stumble upon them by chance.
I think it was that first tinge of Fall in the air that had me feeling nostalgic, for lack of a better word. I love fall. I think it's because the fall reminds me of newness. Yeah, newness. Don't we all love newness? A new house. A new car. A new love. A new baby. A new pair of shoes. A new puppy. Don't we all love the feelings associated with newness? There is something scary and yet so exciting about stepping into the unknown.
I was married on August 23, 1997 and it was a cool August 23. I think it barely hit 70 degrees that day and then the following day we left for the mountains of Gatlinburg and of course it was cool down there, also. The following year, Riley was born in October. I associate a lot of my newness with Fall. When Riley was born, we were renting a single-wide trailer on about an acre of land. There were big Pine trees in our front yard and our yard was separated from the adjacent cattle pasture by just a barbed wire fence.
All I wanted to do while we were at that trailer was find a house of our own and move. We finally did 2 years later. Who would’ve ever thought that that short time in the trailer in the country would be one of the fondest memories I would ever have?
Kevin was working 10-hour shifts back then and driving almost 2 hours each way to work. That left me at home with a baby for 14 hours a day by myself. The strange part is that I don’t remember being tired or frustrated or anything remotely similar to the exhaustion that I feel these days. I remember swinging on the porch swing that was a hand-me-down from my grandparents. I would take Riley out there when he was a baby and swing him until he fell asleep and then go softly place him in his bed. That spring we hung a red baby swing from the old clothesline pole and Riley loved swinging for as long as I could push him back and forth. From my backyard I could hear the cows mooing and see rolling hills for as far as the eye could see. We had a sweet older couple that lived behind us. God has blessed us with the best of neighbors every single place we have ever lived. These people were good as gold. They would’ve done anything for us and as a young couple starting out with a new baby, their kind hearts were a welcomed blessing!
Kevin borrowed his dad’s riding mower when we moved out there. He tried to teach me to mow and occasionally I would hop on, but I preferred to watch him mow with Riley on his lap. I have pictures from that time at the trailer and it’s so funny to look back at them. We were so young! I mean we looked like babies ourselves--and I guess we were, essentially. I was just a mere 21 years old and Kevin was 26. Life was so simple back then. Simple and new. I videoed hours worth of Riley just sitting in his bouncy chair or laying in his crib. I had his pictures made every 3 months. And I enjoyed all of that and I had time for all of that.
We found a house and moved into a nice little neighborhood in Bluefield, VA less that 2 years after we moved into the trailer in the country. I was so excited to have our own house and I loved that little house. I loved our neighbors and there was a park in our neighborhood and I would take Riley in the stroller a couple times a week. Two years later we had Natalie and then I pushed a double stroller to the park. Kevin and I rode bikes and had a pull-behind cart for the kids. Life was great.
Less than 3 years after we bought our house in Bluefield, Kevin received one of his many lay-off slips. He worked in the coal industry, so that is the nature of the beast. When the coal is running, it’s running full-force. When it’s not, it’s not. With two kids, it was getting difficult to plan for the future while constantly dodging a lay-off slip. When the opportunity arose to leave the coal industry for the paper mill, we decided to go for what we thought would be more job security over pay and benefits. I still don’t think Kevin has made it up to what he was making at the coal tipple, and the benefits will never be as good, but he hasn’t collected unemployment in 6 years and for that we are grateful.
Moving to Covington brought with it a rental search once again. This time we had two children and a family dog. We needed a decent place to rent. That is a tall order in Covington! We ended up renting a house out in Moss Run and I loved it out there, too. Yep, the country once again. We tried to buy that house, but they wouldn’t sell it. It was time for us to move on after we sold our house in Bluefield and after just 5 short months in Moss Run, we moved into our current house.
This house has seen the birth of our third child, the start of preschool for 3 children and school for 2. It has seen 6 years of soccer, 3 years of splashing in the pool, two children learning to ride their bicycles without training wheels, 2 kids potty-trained, the exit of a cocker spaniel and the entrance of two black labs. It has housed Halloween parties, Christmas parties, summer barbeques and many sleepovers. We have shared a lot in the short six years that we have lived here and I love this little house and we have the greatest neighbors once again.
Life is still awesome, but kind of like the eye of a hurricane kind of awesome. It’s fast and furious and intense and you never know if it’s going to calm down and go on out to sea or if it’s going to hit shore and completely destroy everything in its path.
So all of that to say this…I think my infatuation with the country life is an intense yearning for life to be as it was when things were new and slow-paced and we were a few years younger and a lot more energetic and way more optimistic about things in general.
The truth of the matter is that things will never be that way again. It doesn’t matter if I move out to the country and try to slow it all down. It’s not going to work. Life will just leave me standing in that dusty old dirt road if I do. I will never be what I was yesterday or the day before or the year before or 10 years ago. It’s just not the way life works.
So I will stay here in my humble abode which is spitting distance from the city limits sign. I will be happy that it only takes me 5 minutes to cart the kids to scouts and soccer practice and grateful that they have a nice safe street to ride their bikes down. And I will keep my eyes open for a little piece of heaven and simplicity out in the country, but more importantly, I will keep my eyes open for those tiny moments of this hurricane of a life that leave me completely breathless.~ArG
I think it was that first tinge of Fall in the air that had me feeling nostalgic, for lack of a better word. I love fall. I think it's because the fall reminds me of newness. Yeah, newness. Don't we all love newness? A new house. A new car. A new love. A new baby. A new pair of shoes. A new puppy. Don't we all love the feelings associated with newness? There is something scary and yet so exciting about stepping into the unknown.
I was married on August 23, 1997 and it was a cool August 23. I think it barely hit 70 degrees that day and then the following day we left for the mountains of Gatlinburg and of course it was cool down there, also. The following year, Riley was born in October. I associate a lot of my newness with Fall. When Riley was born, we were renting a single-wide trailer on about an acre of land. There were big Pine trees in our front yard and our yard was separated from the adjacent cattle pasture by just a barbed wire fence.
All I wanted to do while we were at that trailer was find a house of our own and move. We finally did 2 years later. Who would’ve ever thought that that short time in the trailer in the country would be one of the fondest memories I would ever have?
Kevin was working 10-hour shifts back then and driving almost 2 hours each way to work. That left me at home with a baby for 14 hours a day by myself. The strange part is that I don’t remember being tired or frustrated or anything remotely similar to the exhaustion that I feel these days. I remember swinging on the porch swing that was a hand-me-down from my grandparents. I would take Riley out there when he was a baby and swing him until he fell asleep and then go softly place him in his bed. That spring we hung a red baby swing from the old clothesline pole and Riley loved swinging for as long as I could push him back and forth. From my backyard I could hear the cows mooing and see rolling hills for as far as the eye could see. We had a sweet older couple that lived behind us. God has blessed us with the best of neighbors every single place we have ever lived. These people were good as gold. They would’ve done anything for us and as a young couple starting out with a new baby, their kind hearts were a welcomed blessing!
Kevin borrowed his dad’s riding mower when we moved out there. He tried to teach me to mow and occasionally I would hop on, but I preferred to watch him mow with Riley on his lap. I have pictures from that time at the trailer and it’s so funny to look back at them. We were so young! I mean we looked like babies ourselves--and I guess we were, essentially. I was just a mere 21 years old and Kevin was 26. Life was so simple back then. Simple and new. I videoed hours worth of Riley just sitting in his bouncy chair or laying in his crib. I had his pictures made every 3 months. And I enjoyed all of that and I had time for all of that.
We found a house and moved into a nice little neighborhood in Bluefield, VA less that 2 years after we moved into the trailer in the country. I was so excited to have our own house and I loved that little house. I loved our neighbors and there was a park in our neighborhood and I would take Riley in the stroller a couple times a week. Two years later we had Natalie and then I pushed a double stroller to the park. Kevin and I rode bikes and had a pull-behind cart for the kids. Life was great.
Less than 3 years after we bought our house in Bluefield, Kevin received one of his many lay-off slips. He worked in the coal industry, so that is the nature of the beast. When the coal is running, it’s running full-force. When it’s not, it’s not. With two kids, it was getting difficult to plan for the future while constantly dodging a lay-off slip. When the opportunity arose to leave the coal industry for the paper mill, we decided to go for what we thought would be more job security over pay and benefits. I still don’t think Kevin has made it up to what he was making at the coal tipple, and the benefits will never be as good, but he hasn’t collected unemployment in 6 years and for that we are grateful.
Moving to Covington brought with it a rental search once again. This time we had two children and a family dog. We needed a decent place to rent. That is a tall order in Covington! We ended up renting a house out in Moss Run and I loved it out there, too. Yep, the country once again. We tried to buy that house, but they wouldn’t sell it. It was time for us to move on after we sold our house in Bluefield and after just 5 short months in Moss Run, we moved into our current house.
This house has seen the birth of our third child, the start of preschool for 3 children and school for 2. It has seen 6 years of soccer, 3 years of splashing in the pool, two children learning to ride their bicycles without training wheels, 2 kids potty-trained, the exit of a cocker spaniel and the entrance of two black labs. It has housed Halloween parties, Christmas parties, summer barbeques and many sleepovers. We have shared a lot in the short six years that we have lived here and I love this little house and we have the greatest neighbors once again.
Life is still awesome, but kind of like the eye of a hurricane kind of awesome. It’s fast and furious and intense and you never know if it’s going to calm down and go on out to sea or if it’s going to hit shore and completely destroy everything in its path.
So all of that to say this…I think my infatuation with the country life is an intense yearning for life to be as it was when things were new and slow-paced and we were a few years younger and a lot more energetic and way more optimistic about things in general.
The truth of the matter is that things will never be that way again. It doesn’t matter if I move out to the country and try to slow it all down. It’s not going to work. Life will just leave me standing in that dusty old dirt road if I do. I will never be what I was yesterday or the day before or the year before or 10 years ago. It’s just not the way life works.
So I will stay here in my humble abode which is spitting distance from the city limits sign. I will be happy that it only takes me 5 minutes to cart the kids to scouts and soccer practice and grateful that they have a nice safe street to ride their bikes down. And I will keep my eyes open for a little piece of heaven and simplicity out in the country, but more importantly, I will keep my eyes open for those tiny moments of this hurricane of a life that leave me completely breathless.~ArG
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I Didn't Mean to do it...
I didn't mean to do it Mommy
Said the child so small
Will I remember the broken glass
Or the tears that would then fall?
Will I look back and remember
Dirty fingerprints on the door
Back when my big boy
Was just a tiny four?
Will I remember making mudpies
In the sandbox right out back
Or will this be a memory
That I will find I lack?
Will I remember the tiny hands
That tried to pour the tea?
Or will my memories be obscured
By the mess it left for me?
Will I remember the curious questions
Of my little child?
Or will I be to distracted
With the dishes that were piled?
Will I remember the spring blossoms
That were picked by the child of six?
Or will I remember scolding them
For the garden I now must fix?
Will I remember the tiny hands
That the fingerpaint clung to?
Or will I remember the work involved
In removing the stained hue?
Will I remember dunking cookies
In a glass of milk so cold?
Or will my memories be only
of the couch stain so bold?
Will I remember the fun we had
Draping blankets over chairs?
Or will I just remember
mending my best quilt's tears?
Will I remember painting fingernails
And her face that held the smile?
Or just the spilled polish
On the table in a pile?
Will I remember the sound of bouncing balls
Down the hallway floor?
Or just remember cleaning
Muddy ballprints off the door?
Will I remember their creativity
And their strong will to be heard?
Or will I remember marker mess
And the struggles that occurred?
Am I savoring every moment
For they are passing quick...
Or overlooking these small moments
As the hands of time go tick?
Said the child so small
Will I remember the broken glass
Or the tears that would then fall?
Will I look back and remember
Dirty fingerprints on the door
Back when my big boy
Was just a tiny four?
Will I remember making mudpies
In the sandbox right out back
Or will this be a memory
That I will find I lack?
Will I remember the tiny hands
That tried to pour the tea?
Or will my memories be obscured
By the mess it left for me?
Will I remember the curious questions
Of my little child?
Or will I be to distracted
With the dishes that were piled?
Will I remember the spring blossoms
That were picked by the child of six?
Or will I remember scolding them
For the garden I now must fix?
Will I remember the tiny hands
That the fingerpaint clung to?
Or will I remember the work involved
In removing the stained hue?
Will I remember dunking cookies
In a glass of milk so cold?
Or will my memories be only
of the couch stain so bold?
Will I remember the fun we had
Draping blankets over chairs?
Or will I just remember
mending my best quilt's tears?
Will I remember painting fingernails
And her face that held the smile?
Or just the spilled polish
On the table in a pile?
Will I remember the sound of bouncing balls
Down the hallway floor?
Or just remember cleaning
Muddy ballprints off the door?
Will I remember their creativity
And their strong will to be heard?
Or will I remember marker mess
And the struggles that occurred?
Am I savoring every moment
For they are passing quick...
Or overlooking these small moments
As the hands of time go tick?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
I Have A Dream!
Amanda’s famous “I have a dream speech”…in regards to the “attic situation”
I have a dream….
That one day the contents of my attic will be purged and neatly organized into clear plastic storage containers.
That the age appropriate clothing will be clearly marked so I will no longer have to fumble through unmarked trash bags full of 10 years worth of children’s clothing with every season change.
I have a dream…
That the Christmas ornaments will be neatly organized into those cool divided ornament storage containers so I do not have to buy new bulbs every year.
That the tangled Christmas lights will be rolled up neatly and the blown bulbs replaced so I will not have to test the same strings of lights every Thanksgiving night.
I have a dream…
That all the pairs of curtains, quilts, blankets and extra comforters will be safely stowed away in space bags for easy retrieval.
That the seasonal holiday decorations will be grouped by season and labeled and placed where I can find them before the holiday is over.
I have a dream…
That the collectible Barbies and Nascar collectibles will not be left open by my children who think they should “play” with these treasures and ruined by the heat of the attic.
That the box of two decades of photographs I have stored up there will not sustain heat or sun damage.
This is my hope and this is my dream.
If anyone is willing to help me realize this dream, please feel free to stop by with your work clothes on.
I have a dream….
That one day the contents of my attic will be purged and neatly organized into clear plastic storage containers.
That the age appropriate clothing will be clearly marked so I will no longer have to fumble through unmarked trash bags full of 10 years worth of children’s clothing with every season change.
I have a dream…
That the Christmas ornaments will be neatly organized into those cool divided ornament storage containers so I do not have to buy new bulbs every year.
That the tangled Christmas lights will be rolled up neatly and the blown bulbs replaced so I will not have to test the same strings of lights every Thanksgiving night.
I have a dream…
That all the pairs of curtains, quilts, blankets and extra comforters will be safely stowed away in space bags for easy retrieval.
That the seasonal holiday decorations will be grouped by season and labeled and placed where I can find them before the holiday is over.
I have a dream…
That the collectible Barbies and Nascar collectibles will not be left open by my children who think they should “play” with these treasures and ruined by the heat of the attic.
That the box of two decades of photographs I have stored up there will not sustain heat or sun damage.
This is my hope and this is my dream.
If anyone is willing to help me realize this dream, please feel free to stop by with your work clothes on.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Hidden Potential
I love houses. I have no discrimination when it comes to real estate. This drives my Dad and my husband absolutely crazy and has caused us to find ourselves in a couple of pickles in the beginning of married life.
After renting for a short time, we started house hunting and I fell in love with every single house I ever stepped into. One house had asbestos siding and I assured Kevin that we could have it safely removed and we wouldn't die of cancer. It was in one of Bluefield's oldest neighborhoods, afterall. Then there was the house that we put an offer on because I loved it and then my Dad came and looked at it and couldn't believe we had made an offer on "that thing." Luckily it didn't pass FHA inspection, so we were able to get our deposit back on that house. Then there was another house that we made an offer on that had a lovely finished basement--and the other side of the basement was soaking wet dirt floor and probably molds and mildews of every race, color and creed. We lost $5oo on that one when we backed out at the last minute after my Dad's pleading that we NOT buy that house.
When we moved to Covington, we looked at several houses and I saw potential in each one we looked at, despite their flaws and challenges. We bought the house that we live in currently because of the finished basement and the awesome yard for the kids. Since we have lived here, I still ocassionally get on the house hunting wagon and I will find a house and call up the realtor and have her show it to me and of course I fall in love with whatever we look at. I looked at a Tudor up in Fairlawn a few years back that I absolutely fell in love with. It was no bigger than the house we live in now--actually probably smaller when you take into account the unusable wet basement that it possessed and the yard that was all uphill. All I could see was the original wood floors and mouldings and the incredible curb appeal it possessed. I could imagine myself having parties in the enormous dining room and I could picture my Christmas tree in front of the big bay window in the living room. I didn't see all the leaky pipes and the outdated electrical, and the bad insulation resulting in $500/month utility bills.
I saw the potential in those houses to be something wonderful. With a little sanding, a little elbow grease, and a lot of tender loving care, those overlooked gems could shine once again.
People are kind of like those old houses. Sometimes we don't get to know people who are a little rough around the edges or too high maintainence. We tend to naviagate towards those people who are an "easy sell" never bothering to get to know the one's who "could use some TLC."
The truth of the matter is that a lot of people just need some encouragement and somebody to take a chance on them--just like those old houses. We always run the risk of opening ourselves up and having the basement flood or having the pipes leak. Sometimes, we will lose our butts and the whole thing will tank, but other times it's through the leaks and the drafty doors and windows that we learn patience, tolerance and warmth. I see the potential when I look at houses, and I try to do the same when I look at people. Some people need to be told they matter. Some people need to be shook a time or two. Some people just need you to sit quietly and listen.
I'm 32 years old and I still love making new friends. I still get giddy when I find a new friend that I really "click" with. I like to make people laugh, but I also can cry with the best of them. Don't let life's chaos keep you from continuing to make friends or from seeing others' hidden potential. What seems like a headache and lots of work on the outside could turn out to be a gem with a little polishing.
After renting for a short time, we started house hunting and I fell in love with every single house I ever stepped into. One house had asbestos siding and I assured Kevin that we could have it safely removed and we wouldn't die of cancer. It was in one of Bluefield's oldest neighborhoods, afterall. Then there was the house that we put an offer on because I loved it and then my Dad came and looked at it and couldn't believe we had made an offer on "that thing." Luckily it didn't pass FHA inspection, so we were able to get our deposit back on that house. Then there was another house that we made an offer on that had a lovely finished basement--and the other side of the basement was soaking wet dirt floor and probably molds and mildews of every race, color and creed. We lost $5oo on that one when we backed out at the last minute after my Dad's pleading that we NOT buy that house.
When we moved to Covington, we looked at several houses and I saw potential in each one we looked at, despite their flaws and challenges. We bought the house that we live in currently because of the finished basement and the awesome yard for the kids. Since we have lived here, I still ocassionally get on the house hunting wagon and I will find a house and call up the realtor and have her show it to me and of course I fall in love with whatever we look at. I looked at a Tudor up in Fairlawn a few years back that I absolutely fell in love with. It was no bigger than the house we live in now--actually probably smaller when you take into account the unusable wet basement that it possessed and the yard that was all uphill. All I could see was the original wood floors and mouldings and the incredible curb appeal it possessed. I could imagine myself having parties in the enormous dining room and I could picture my Christmas tree in front of the big bay window in the living room. I didn't see all the leaky pipes and the outdated electrical, and the bad insulation resulting in $500/month utility bills.
I saw the potential in those houses to be something wonderful. With a little sanding, a little elbow grease, and a lot of tender loving care, those overlooked gems could shine once again.
People are kind of like those old houses. Sometimes we don't get to know people who are a little rough around the edges or too high maintainence. We tend to naviagate towards those people who are an "easy sell" never bothering to get to know the one's who "could use some TLC."
The truth of the matter is that a lot of people just need some encouragement and somebody to take a chance on them--just like those old houses. We always run the risk of opening ourselves up and having the basement flood or having the pipes leak. Sometimes, we will lose our butts and the whole thing will tank, but other times it's through the leaks and the drafty doors and windows that we learn patience, tolerance and warmth. I see the potential when I look at houses, and I try to do the same when I look at people. Some people need to be told they matter. Some people need to be shook a time or two. Some people just need you to sit quietly and listen.
I'm 32 years old and I still love making new friends. I still get giddy when I find a new friend that I really "click" with. I like to make people laugh, but I also can cry with the best of them. Don't let life's chaos keep you from continuing to make friends or from seeing others' hidden potential. What seems like a headache and lots of work on the outside could turn out to be a gem with a little polishing.
Friday, August 14, 2009
National Lampoon's King's Dominion Vacation
August 10, 2009
Memoirs from fun-filled King’s Dominion trip…
We departed Potts Creek Road for King’s Dominion at 7:45, only 45 minutes behind schedule, which is a good morning at the Griffith House. We had our kids in the mini-van and Kevin’s folks had their other two grandsons (our nephews) in their truck and we were off! I remember stopping in Cliftondale Park for gas and most everything after that is a blur to me. This, my friends, is because I always sleep in the car. I believe I have some sort of motor vehicle narcolepsy. This is not at all a joke. I will fall asleep by Iron Gate on the way to Roanoke. There is something about that gentle lulling of the vehicle, the warm sun beating through the windshield, and the random screams of children fighting in the backseat that send me right into a deep sleep. Sometimes I take a book or magazine to just mix things up. I usually make it about 2 pages before I am doing the Jello neck bob trick, while my wide fly-catching open mouth gives entertainment for all passersby.
We made it to King’s Dominion a little before 11 o’clock which had my Rainman-like son, Riley, all out of sorts due to the fact that we were already an hour behind our perfectly mapped out riding schedule. That’s right folks, we mapped out a riding schedule. I am not a planner by nature, but for those important things in life…such as roller coaster riding…I need a plan of action. On our last visit to King’s Dominion, we were pure novices. We had no idea how to navigate ourselves in order to accommodate the thrill needs of the five people in our family. Two more years of thought and several inches of growth allowed my oldest child to be able to ride almost anything he dared at the park, and allowed my other children to have a lot more flexibility also. We got to the gate with our tickets and after my husband and father-in-law nearly stripped down, we finally were able to pass through the metal detectors and start our trek through this wonderland.
First ride was The Shenandoah Lumber Company…aka The Log Flume. All five kids plus Kevin and I enjoyed this fun ride! This would be the first and last ride that my husband would take in. He had a bad experience on the Scrambler at the Tazewell County Fair a few years back and he has whimped out on me a little. Let me come to his defense, however. Somebody had really messed with that Scrambler and I actually remember praying to God that if he got me off that thing that I would surely never be so stupid as to ever step foot on another ride and I would start giving double to charity. Well, he held up his end of the bargain, anyway.
The four older kids and I took in The Grizzly, The Hurler, Ricochet, and El Dorado while Kevin decided to take Wyatt over to the water park, as it was…THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR! Yeah, apparently that is God’s punishment for me for breaking my deal I made with him over the Scrambler. For the last two years we have visited King’s Dominion, it has been over 100 degrees.
Kevin, his dad and Wyatt left after 2 o’clock to check into our five-star hotel (Days Inn--Carmel Church) and rested in the A/C while Wyatt took a nap. While they were gone, Kevin’s mom and I took the other four kids over to the wave pool to get a reprieve from the miserable heat. Kevin texted me and told me it was 104 when they got into the van in the parking lot. Lovely. So we arrived at Tidal Wave Bay and nobody was in the pool. THEY WERE HAVING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!! You must be kidding me was my lone thought. Thank goodness, within 10 minutes, the problems were resolved and the kids and I were able to cool off for a little while and Kevin’s mom was able to score a chair and rest for a little while, although she nearly had to fight a middle-aged man for rights to it. After about 30 minutes of splashing in the pool, all the kids were ready to get back to riding, and so began the grueling task of sending everyone in to change back from their wet suits. Fifteen minutes later, we are ready to roll. Straight to the Rebel Yell we headed. This has always been a favorite of mine, and Natalie and Riley, along with my nephew Alex, all rode it with me! We wanted to do it backwards, but it was only running forward on Sunday. BOO! We rode it two or three times and it was great as usual. Glad we weren’t on the blue side because those poor folks got stuck on the way up and there they sat as we passed by them and there they still were as we finished the ride. I would not have done well in that situation, I’m guessing.
We were standing in line trying to get everybody situated to ride, but we had five people--odd number for coaster riding. Riley was going to have to ride after us and a guy who appeared to be alone came and stood in line behind him. Riley asked this guy if he could ride with him and he said Yes. Well, lo and behold if the two people in the front of the line were not together as we had previously thought. I told Riley to ask the guy in the front if he could ride with him and he said Yes. Riley turns back to the guy behind him that he had first asked and said, “I’m riding with him now. Sorry dude, maybe next time.” That’s our Riley. Such a card. I asked Riley later about the guy he rode with and he said, “His name was Tom Murphy.” I laughed and said, “You asked him his name?” He said, “Yeah, and I told him my name was Riley Griffith.” Lord help that friendly child and keep him safe because he would tell anybody anything.
It wasn’t too much longer and the guys arrived back with Wyatt and we went over and let the smaller kids ride rides in Kidsville. Wyatt loved the Scooby Doo Ghoster Coaster and he and I rode in the front car together. I am digging that all of my kids love coasters and are not scared. I started out my life scared, but by 6th grade, loved them.
Our perfectly mapped out riding schedule got all out of whack, due to the miserable heat of the day, and we missed all of the great coasters in Conga altogether. I was less than thrilled about missing out on some of those great coasters over there that I have never been on.
The highlight of the day was taking Riley and my nephew Alex over to ride The Dominator. We walked all the way around there and then walked under it and watched it pass through and the three of us were terrified. Riley was so scared, he was nearly in tears. As we walked the maze to get to the coaster, you could almost hear our hearts beating out of our chests! We were terrified! We picked a line to get in, and we stood there for about 20 seconds until someone in the front of the line asked us if we wanted to get in front of them, as they were trying to ensure riding with their friends. We said yes, and then quickly wondered what the heck we had just agreed to! So there we were. Me…the old one and the 12 and 10 year old. We had still not completely decided if we were going to ride this monster or not. Ready or not, the gates opened and it was do or die. We sat down and buckled in and I made sure to say a little prayer that I would not be caught upside down swinging on this thing like those poor people stuck in their cars on the Rebel Yell, just hours before. Off we went and it was AWESOME! I mean awesome! It was an incredible ride, but the incredible part was sharing this “big ride” with my son and my nephew. You always remember your first time…your first big roller coaster time, that is. I remember mine…I was with Robin Biggs at Busch Gardens and it was the Loch Ness Monster. It gave me my love for coasters and brought me out of my scaredy-cat shell.
Before leaving Kidzville, the kids decided that $90 on the pizza lunch and the other $60 on drinks was not quite enough to donate to King’s Dominion, so they wanted to play a game or two before departure. They all played that one where you squirt the water guns--I don’t do the game thing, so I have no idea what it is called, but Riley won a big ole Scooby Doo on the thing. Alex won two basketballs in the shooting game. Wyatt wanted to throw the baseballs, but the park was about to close and nobody was manning the baseball throwing station. Wyatt discovered the basket of baseballs was sitting right there, however, so he grabbed three balls and had at it. Two of the balls didn’t even register a speed and the middle ball registered 17 mph. All of our family, along with three or four young guys started cheering for Wyatt and Kevin hollers, “We have a winner!” And then Wyatt walks right in there and picks himself out a bear and off we went. I laughed so hard, I nearly peed my pants.
We left the park and went home and rested our heads on those perfectly hard as brick pillows at Days Inn and knew we had made some great memories with our kids and our family.
Memoirs from fun-filled King’s Dominion trip…
We departed Potts Creek Road for King’s Dominion at 7:45, only 45 minutes behind schedule, which is a good morning at the Griffith House. We had our kids in the mini-van and Kevin’s folks had their other two grandsons (our nephews) in their truck and we were off! I remember stopping in Cliftondale Park for gas and most everything after that is a blur to me. This, my friends, is because I always sleep in the car. I believe I have some sort of motor vehicle narcolepsy. This is not at all a joke. I will fall asleep by Iron Gate on the way to Roanoke. There is something about that gentle lulling of the vehicle, the warm sun beating through the windshield, and the random screams of children fighting in the backseat that send me right into a deep sleep. Sometimes I take a book or magazine to just mix things up. I usually make it about 2 pages before I am doing the Jello neck bob trick, while my wide fly-catching open mouth gives entertainment for all passersby.
We made it to King’s Dominion a little before 11 o’clock which had my Rainman-like son, Riley, all out of sorts due to the fact that we were already an hour behind our perfectly mapped out riding schedule. That’s right folks, we mapped out a riding schedule. I am not a planner by nature, but for those important things in life…such as roller coaster riding…I need a plan of action. On our last visit to King’s Dominion, we were pure novices. We had no idea how to navigate ourselves in order to accommodate the thrill needs of the five people in our family. Two more years of thought and several inches of growth allowed my oldest child to be able to ride almost anything he dared at the park, and allowed my other children to have a lot more flexibility also. We got to the gate with our tickets and after my husband and father-in-law nearly stripped down, we finally were able to pass through the metal detectors and start our trek through this wonderland.
First ride was The Shenandoah Lumber Company…aka The Log Flume. All five kids plus Kevin and I enjoyed this fun ride! This would be the first and last ride that my husband would take in. He had a bad experience on the Scrambler at the Tazewell County Fair a few years back and he has whimped out on me a little. Let me come to his defense, however. Somebody had really messed with that Scrambler and I actually remember praying to God that if he got me off that thing that I would surely never be so stupid as to ever step foot on another ride and I would start giving double to charity. Well, he held up his end of the bargain, anyway.
The four older kids and I took in The Grizzly, The Hurler, Ricochet, and El Dorado while Kevin decided to take Wyatt over to the water park, as it was…THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR! Yeah, apparently that is God’s punishment for me for breaking my deal I made with him over the Scrambler. For the last two years we have visited King’s Dominion, it has been over 100 degrees.
Kevin, his dad and Wyatt left after 2 o’clock to check into our five-star hotel (Days Inn--Carmel Church) and rested in the A/C while Wyatt took a nap. While they were gone, Kevin’s mom and I took the other four kids over to the wave pool to get a reprieve from the miserable heat. Kevin texted me and told me it was 104 when they got into the van in the parking lot. Lovely. So we arrived at Tidal Wave Bay and nobody was in the pool. THEY WERE HAVING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!! You must be kidding me was my lone thought. Thank goodness, within 10 minutes, the problems were resolved and the kids and I were able to cool off for a little while and Kevin’s mom was able to score a chair and rest for a little while, although she nearly had to fight a middle-aged man for rights to it. After about 30 minutes of splashing in the pool, all the kids were ready to get back to riding, and so began the grueling task of sending everyone in to change back from their wet suits. Fifteen minutes later, we are ready to roll. Straight to the Rebel Yell we headed. This has always been a favorite of mine, and Natalie and Riley, along with my nephew Alex, all rode it with me! We wanted to do it backwards, but it was only running forward on Sunday. BOO! We rode it two or three times and it was great as usual. Glad we weren’t on the blue side because those poor folks got stuck on the way up and there they sat as we passed by them and there they still were as we finished the ride. I would not have done well in that situation, I’m guessing.
We were standing in line trying to get everybody situated to ride, but we had five people--odd number for coaster riding. Riley was going to have to ride after us and a guy who appeared to be alone came and stood in line behind him. Riley asked this guy if he could ride with him and he said Yes. Well, lo and behold if the two people in the front of the line were not together as we had previously thought. I told Riley to ask the guy in the front if he could ride with him and he said Yes. Riley turns back to the guy behind him that he had first asked and said, “I’m riding with him now. Sorry dude, maybe next time.” That’s our Riley. Such a card. I asked Riley later about the guy he rode with and he said, “His name was Tom Murphy.” I laughed and said, “You asked him his name?” He said, “Yeah, and I told him my name was Riley Griffith.” Lord help that friendly child and keep him safe because he would tell anybody anything.
It wasn’t too much longer and the guys arrived back with Wyatt and we went over and let the smaller kids ride rides in Kidsville. Wyatt loved the Scooby Doo Ghoster Coaster and he and I rode in the front car together. I am digging that all of my kids love coasters and are not scared. I started out my life scared, but by 6th grade, loved them.
Our perfectly mapped out riding schedule got all out of whack, due to the miserable heat of the day, and we missed all of the great coasters in Conga altogether. I was less than thrilled about missing out on some of those great coasters over there that I have never been on.
The highlight of the day was taking Riley and my nephew Alex over to ride The Dominator. We walked all the way around there and then walked under it and watched it pass through and the three of us were terrified. Riley was so scared, he was nearly in tears. As we walked the maze to get to the coaster, you could almost hear our hearts beating out of our chests! We were terrified! We picked a line to get in, and we stood there for about 20 seconds until someone in the front of the line asked us if we wanted to get in front of them, as they were trying to ensure riding with their friends. We said yes, and then quickly wondered what the heck we had just agreed to! So there we were. Me…the old one and the 12 and 10 year old. We had still not completely decided if we were going to ride this monster or not. Ready or not, the gates opened and it was do or die. We sat down and buckled in and I made sure to say a little prayer that I would not be caught upside down swinging on this thing like those poor people stuck in their cars on the Rebel Yell, just hours before. Off we went and it was AWESOME! I mean awesome! It was an incredible ride, but the incredible part was sharing this “big ride” with my son and my nephew. You always remember your first time…your first big roller coaster time, that is. I remember mine…I was with Robin Biggs at Busch Gardens and it was the Loch Ness Monster. It gave me my love for coasters and brought me out of my scaredy-cat shell.
Before leaving Kidzville, the kids decided that $90 on the pizza lunch and the other $60 on drinks was not quite enough to donate to King’s Dominion, so they wanted to play a game or two before departure. They all played that one where you squirt the water guns--I don’t do the game thing, so I have no idea what it is called, but Riley won a big ole Scooby Doo on the thing. Alex won two basketballs in the shooting game. Wyatt wanted to throw the baseballs, but the park was about to close and nobody was manning the baseball throwing station. Wyatt discovered the basket of baseballs was sitting right there, however, so he grabbed three balls and had at it. Two of the balls didn’t even register a speed and the middle ball registered 17 mph. All of our family, along with three or four young guys started cheering for Wyatt and Kevin hollers, “We have a winner!” And then Wyatt walks right in there and picks himself out a bear and off we went. I laughed so hard, I nearly peed my pants.
We left the park and went home and rested our heads on those perfectly hard as brick pillows at Days Inn and knew we had made some great memories with our kids and our family.
Outpatient Surgery Revelations about Love
August 11, 2009
Today Natalie had her tonsils and adenoids removed. She had really huge tonsils, and the orthodontist recommended having them removed to prevent any speech problems and help alleviate strep throat and help her to stop snoring. Everything went great and I look for her to make a speedy recovery and be able to return to school next Wednesday. She has to take off an extra week before she can start soccer and basketball, but she should be just fine. Natalie has been drugged up on Lortab today and has been so cute and affectionate. She has wanted me to hold her and snuggle with her and it has been so nice. She has told us all how much she loves us and I have been relishing the moments because I know once the meds wear off that she will be back to telling us where to stick it.
Kevin and I were sitting in the room waiting on Natalie to return and I told him that he really should go to school to be a nurse--of course then I couldn’t resist making a Gaylord Focker joke, just for the simple reason that I love the Fockers so very much, but in all seriousness, my husband would make a wonderful nurse. He is very nurturing and fun-loving and a great care-giver and has a technical side that I do not possess. He told me that there is no way we could make it if he went back to school though. I felt a little rotten that I hadn’t finished my degree 10 years ago when I should’ve, so we could have a little more flexibility for the pursuit of the careers that would make us happy instead of the jobs that would feed the family. I asked him if he was happy. He said, “With my job?” I said, “No, I mean with us.” He simply shook his head yes and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” So at that very moment I felt tears trickling down my cheeks and suddenly appreciated my husband more than I had in a really long time.
A lot of times I get wrapped up in my own wants and the world around me and I forget about the tremendous amount of love my husband has for me and our children. He’s not a romantic guy, despite my begging and pleading for romance. It’s not really the storybook romance that makes life wonderful though, I have finally realized. In two weeks, we will be married 12 years. As I think back over those quick 12 years, I ask myself what stands out to me? Is it a vacation? Is it something spectacular we did? Is it something that cost a ton of money? The answer is a unanimous no.
What would I miss if I didn’t have my husband here with me? I would miss his annoying whistling that my daughter has now also picked up. I would miss the way he says, “Huh?” when he clearly hears the question but doesn’t want to be forthcoming with the answer. I would miss his texts that say u2 when I text him a 3 page text telling him how much I love him. I would miss the way he fixes all the broke stuff for me. I would miss how he lets me run with my crazy ideas. I would miss the way that he goes to Walmart to pick up beer and brings home a Decorating magazine for me. I would miss the way he lets me lay on his pillow and pretends he doesn’t notice. I would miss the way he hides away chocolate bars for me and pulls them out when he sees me searching the house frantically for “something sweet.” I would miss the way he orders what I like at a restaurant in case I don’t like mine and I might want to trade. I would miss those big blue eyes that can see right through all the surface stuff and straight into my soul.
Sure, music and flowers and chocolates are lovely….but I'd take Walmart surprises, back porch sitting, and marshmallow roasting any ole day.
Today Natalie had her tonsils and adenoids removed. She had really huge tonsils, and the orthodontist recommended having them removed to prevent any speech problems and help alleviate strep throat and help her to stop snoring. Everything went great and I look for her to make a speedy recovery and be able to return to school next Wednesday. She has to take off an extra week before she can start soccer and basketball, but she should be just fine. Natalie has been drugged up on Lortab today and has been so cute and affectionate. She has wanted me to hold her and snuggle with her and it has been so nice. She has told us all how much she loves us and I have been relishing the moments because I know once the meds wear off that she will be back to telling us where to stick it.
Kevin and I were sitting in the room waiting on Natalie to return and I told him that he really should go to school to be a nurse--of course then I couldn’t resist making a Gaylord Focker joke, just for the simple reason that I love the Fockers so very much, but in all seriousness, my husband would make a wonderful nurse. He is very nurturing and fun-loving and a great care-giver and has a technical side that I do not possess. He told me that there is no way we could make it if he went back to school though. I felt a little rotten that I hadn’t finished my degree 10 years ago when I should’ve, so we could have a little more flexibility for the pursuit of the careers that would make us happy instead of the jobs that would feed the family. I asked him if he was happy. He said, “With my job?” I said, “No, I mean with us.” He simply shook his head yes and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” So at that very moment I felt tears trickling down my cheeks and suddenly appreciated my husband more than I had in a really long time.
A lot of times I get wrapped up in my own wants and the world around me and I forget about the tremendous amount of love my husband has for me and our children. He’s not a romantic guy, despite my begging and pleading for romance. It’s not really the storybook romance that makes life wonderful though, I have finally realized. In two weeks, we will be married 12 years. As I think back over those quick 12 years, I ask myself what stands out to me? Is it a vacation? Is it something spectacular we did? Is it something that cost a ton of money? The answer is a unanimous no.
What would I miss if I didn’t have my husband here with me? I would miss his annoying whistling that my daughter has now also picked up. I would miss the way he says, “Huh?” when he clearly hears the question but doesn’t want to be forthcoming with the answer. I would miss his texts that say u2 when I text him a 3 page text telling him how much I love him. I would miss the way he fixes all the broke stuff for me. I would miss how he lets me run with my crazy ideas. I would miss the way that he goes to Walmart to pick up beer and brings home a Decorating magazine for me. I would miss the way he lets me lay on his pillow and pretends he doesn’t notice. I would miss the way he hides away chocolate bars for me and pulls them out when he sees me searching the house frantically for “something sweet.” I would miss the way he orders what I like at a restaurant in case I don’t like mine and I might want to trade. I would miss those big blue eyes that can see right through all the surface stuff and straight into my soul.
Sure, music and flowers and chocolates are lovely….but I'd take Walmart surprises, back porch sitting, and marshmallow roasting any ole day.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
A Day in the Life of Me
May 6, 2009
A day in the life of me...
I normally get up at 5:22...that's when the alarm goes off. I'm not sure why I don't set it for 5:20 or 5:25...that's just too conventional I suppose. Anyway, I get up with Kevin and stumble into the kitchen and if I'm lucky, I have remembered to load the coffee maker the night before, and perhaps I even had the sense to program it because then I can have a cup as soon as I walk in the kitchen. Unfortunately, 9 times out of 10, that isn't the case. Most of the time it still has yesterday's coffee in it, so I have to dump that nasty filter in the trash which is probably setting in the middle of the floor because it's always overflowing and that is my sign for Kevin to take it out...just setting it in the middle of the floor. Then I have to dump the remainder of the coffee in the sink...but sometimes that is quite a feat because chances are, that last night's dinner dishes are still in the sink...overflowing. Once I get the coffee brewed, however, my day starts to improve. I slam together some sort of sandwich for Kevin to take to lunch...turkey usually. He has high blood pressure and he doesn't like to eat ham, even though I got out the ham and turkey one day and showed him that the turkey had just as much sodium in it as the ham...you can't tell him anything though. Once I get that done, I plop down on the couch and watch the news for a little while and drink my coffee. Kevin asks why I don't read my literature during this time, but what he doesn't understand is that my brain cannot function properly until a minimum of 3 cups of coffee have entered my bloodstream. Duh. Anyway, so I just veg out for a little while and enjoy the peace and quiet.
Around 6:30, my first-born Riley usually starts stirring. Let me introduce you to Riley. He was born October 4, 1998. He is a Libra. He didn't speak until he was 3 years old. We thought maybe he was autistic. After 19 months of speech therapy, we found that to be untrue. He is not autistic, he is rather a genius! HaHa. Well, we think he is anyway. He is very Rainman-ish if you will. He can read something and regurgitate it. It's quite amazing. He helped me through American History and I'm not even kidding. Riley is very Libra-ish. I believe with my entire being that he will be President of the United States one of these days. He is extremely methodical and a creature of habit. He has very little creative juices like the females in our home. At 2 years old, he could not speak, but he could point out every letter of the alphabet when asked. I had to go to a meeting when he was in Kindergarten because his fine motor skills were behind. The child used his scissors backwards! With the blades pointing towards him! I'm happy to report he can now cut though. Still working on tying shoes (sorry Riley, but I'm just explaining the workings of your mind.) My dad says Riley is "the chosen one." He thinks Riley is my favorite. This is not true of course. I love all three equally. Riley is the child that is the most unlike me, but he is also the one who is most like me. His heart is huge. He has an old soul. He bears the worries of the world. He understands things beyond his years. I love the way he wants to hear my Papaw tell of WWII and Momaw tell of The Great Depression. I love that he cares about people and humanity and the things that mean something. I'm not trying to write his destiny, but I have my doubts that he will be the quarterback of the football team, but he is going to be something great. He is going to make a difference. Well, if he makes it out alive without me or Kevin laying him out over his smart-ass mouth anyway.
Ok, so Riley gets up and I get his clothes out every morning. I will probably still be doing this when he is 16 years old. That's just Riley. He gets dressed and goes and sits in the living room and watches the Today Show. So, minute-by-minute, I get updates about the Swine Flu, the Craig’s List killer, the chance of rain in China...you name it.
In the meantime, I have to go wake up Natalie, my middle child. My husband is also a middle child, so I have tried to keep her from developing middle-child syndrome. I think it's just a given though. There's no way around it. She will always be too little to do something Riley is doing and too big to do something Wyatt is doing. It's a tough place to be. Knowing what I know now, I would've just had another baby and made it an even four. She would've loved having a sister. That would mean I would still be changing diapers and dealing with all that baby stuff that I am SOOO over now. I’ll just pay for her therapy. Anyway, Natalie does not like to get out of bed. She also does not sleep under the flat sheet…only the coverlet. I don’t even begin to understand why, but I just go with the flow. After numerous attempts of nicely trying to awaken my beautiful princess, I just say, whatever…you can go in your pajamas for all I care and then she usually gets up. My beautiful Natalie is built like her father which is quite unfortunate for her. I wish I could’ve given her the gift of long legs--she has short legs and a long torso though. This year, she has been having too many Little Debbies and has gotten in touch with here bootylicious honky-tonk badonkadonk. That’s what I decided to give her--again Natalie…I’ll pay for the therapy. So, with that said, the last few months have been difficult to get the jeans to go over the bootay, so that usually erupts into some sort of argument where I am blamed, and it couldn’t possibly be the Fudge Rounds. Go figure.
Let me introduce you to Natalie while I’m talking about her…Natalie was my dream come true! I wanted a baby girl so bad and when I found out she was going to be a girl, I was happy beyond measure! I had always had this picture in my head of sitting on the beach…maybe this came from the movie “Beaches”…with my daughter and we would both have on big wide-brimmed hats and sunglasses and pink toenail polish. (I’m smiling now) Natalie was born July 23, 2002. She is a Leo, and once again, possesses many Leo traits. She is a free-spirit like her mommy and she is extremely creative and artistic. She went in her room the other day with some popsicle sticks, glitter and a glue stick and came out with beautiful picture frames for us! Natalie is the kid that everybody likes--all of the older girls take her under their wing and love her. She also possesses some of the not-so great Leo qualities…she can be bossy and she is quite an instigator. She is very strong-willed, so I hope that will come out in positive ways as she matures. She loves to travel…she would never spend any time at home if she didn’t have to--she’d much rather go to Papaw and Nana’s or a friends house than to stay here with boring old us!
Then, like clockwork, Wyatt come down the hall, poking light sabers at us and demanding pancakes, with no consideration for the fact that the other kids need to eat because the bus will be here in 5 minutes. I have discovered microwavable pancakes and my children pretty much live on them now--a long time ago, in an enchanted world, I actually cooked breakfast…I got over it though…now it’s pop-tarts, microwave pancakes or cereal. Anyway, I pop pancakes in the micro and get everybody fed and out the door the older two go…Riley has now checked his folder 15 times to makes sure everything is in there (Rainman).
Then it’s just Wyatt and I for the rest of the day. Housework or studying begins, or some days I go work at the church and he goes to Paw Phil’s for a couple of hours. Wyatt likes to stay at home. He is polar opposite of Natalie who likes to roam. That nest-like quality is true of most Cancers, which he is. Let me back up. It was November of 2004. Kevin was in Pocahontas County hunting. I had been so darn tired and just didn’t feel right. I thought I was going to bed at 7:00 p.m. every night because of the time change. I decided to pop into CVS and get a pregnancy test anyway…we were finished having kids after Natalie, mind you. Two was perfect…a boy and a girl…happy and healthy. Well, I got home and I took the test. Girls, you know how you have the test window and you have the one line that says it’s working and then the other window gives you the line? Well, I was SOOOO pregnant that the positive came before the other window showed up! OMG! I cried and I was so upset and scared and I had no husband that I could reach by phone for 2 days to share this scary information with! That was a long two days. When I finally told him, in his usual, nonchalant fashion, he reassured me that it was fine and that we’d manage somehow. When I went to the doctor, I told them how far along I thought I could be…well the doctor literally jumped back and said, “Wooah! This baby is more than 8 weeks gestation…it has arms and legs!” So we had a good chuckle about all that and 7 months later (pregnancies are much shorter when you don’t know you’re pregnant til the 2nd trimester btw ;-) Wyatt Harden Griffith entered the world on June 23, 2005. He was the easiest baby to carry and the easiest labor and delivery. He was only 7 lbs. 4 ounces, so I guess that is why--Riley was 9 lb.s 4.5 ounces and Nat was 8 lbs. 14.5 ounces. Needless to say, I had my tubes tied on June 24, 2005 :o)
Wyatt is very imaginative. I think that is another Cancer quality. Riley never possessed this quality. Wyatt will sit and play for hours and the stories he tells are hilarious! He is athletic and is left-handed. He has been known to say a cuss word here and there, and of the three children, he is the toughest and the most menacing.
Ok, well that is how we start our day. Now that I have introduced you all to my zoo, I hope to update our goings-on every day or two. Stay tuned!
A day in the life of me...
I normally get up at 5:22...that's when the alarm goes off. I'm not sure why I don't set it for 5:20 or 5:25...that's just too conventional I suppose. Anyway, I get up with Kevin and stumble into the kitchen and if I'm lucky, I have remembered to load the coffee maker the night before, and perhaps I even had the sense to program it because then I can have a cup as soon as I walk in the kitchen. Unfortunately, 9 times out of 10, that isn't the case. Most of the time it still has yesterday's coffee in it, so I have to dump that nasty filter in the trash which is probably setting in the middle of the floor because it's always overflowing and that is my sign for Kevin to take it out...just setting it in the middle of the floor. Then I have to dump the remainder of the coffee in the sink...but sometimes that is quite a feat because chances are, that last night's dinner dishes are still in the sink...overflowing. Once I get the coffee brewed, however, my day starts to improve. I slam together some sort of sandwich for Kevin to take to lunch...turkey usually. He has high blood pressure and he doesn't like to eat ham, even though I got out the ham and turkey one day and showed him that the turkey had just as much sodium in it as the ham...you can't tell him anything though. Once I get that done, I plop down on the couch and watch the news for a little while and drink my coffee. Kevin asks why I don't read my literature during this time, but what he doesn't understand is that my brain cannot function properly until a minimum of 3 cups of coffee have entered my bloodstream. Duh. Anyway, so I just veg out for a little while and enjoy the peace and quiet.
Around 6:30, my first-born Riley usually starts stirring. Let me introduce you to Riley. He was born October 4, 1998. He is a Libra. He didn't speak until he was 3 years old. We thought maybe he was autistic. After 19 months of speech therapy, we found that to be untrue. He is not autistic, he is rather a genius! HaHa. Well, we think he is anyway. He is very Rainman-ish if you will. He can read something and regurgitate it. It's quite amazing. He helped me through American History and I'm not even kidding. Riley is very Libra-ish. I believe with my entire being that he will be President of the United States one of these days. He is extremely methodical and a creature of habit. He has very little creative juices like the females in our home. At 2 years old, he could not speak, but he could point out every letter of the alphabet when asked. I had to go to a meeting when he was in Kindergarten because his fine motor skills were behind. The child used his scissors backwards! With the blades pointing towards him! I'm happy to report he can now cut though. Still working on tying shoes (sorry Riley, but I'm just explaining the workings of your mind.) My dad says Riley is "the chosen one." He thinks Riley is my favorite. This is not true of course. I love all three equally. Riley is the child that is the most unlike me, but he is also the one who is most like me. His heart is huge. He has an old soul. He bears the worries of the world. He understands things beyond his years. I love the way he wants to hear my Papaw tell of WWII and Momaw tell of The Great Depression. I love that he cares about people and humanity and the things that mean something. I'm not trying to write his destiny, but I have my doubts that he will be the quarterback of the football team, but he is going to be something great. He is going to make a difference. Well, if he makes it out alive without me or Kevin laying him out over his smart-ass mouth anyway.
Ok, so Riley gets up and I get his clothes out every morning. I will probably still be doing this when he is 16 years old. That's just Riley. He gets dressed and goes and sits in the living room and watches the Today Show. So, minute-by-minute, I get updates about the Swine Flu, the Craig’s List killer, the chance of rain in China...you name it.
In the meantime, I have to go wake up Natalie, my middle child. My husband is also a middle child, so I have tried to keep her from developing middle-child syndrome. I think it's just a given though. There's no way around it. She will always be too little to do something Riley is doing and too big to do something Wyatt is doing. It's a tough place to be. Knowing what I know now, I would've just had another baby and made it an even four. She would've loved having a sister. That would mean I would still be changing diapers and dealing with all that baby stuff that I am SOOO over now. I’ll just pay for her therapy. Anyway, Natalie does not like to get out of bed. She also does not sleep under the flat sheet…only the coverlet. I don’t even begin to understand why, but I just go with the flow. After numerous attempts of nicely trying to awaken my beautiful princess, I just say, whatever…you can go in your pajamas for all I care and then she usually gets up. My beautiful Natalie is built like her father which is quite unfortunate for her. I wish I could’ve given her the gift of long legs--she has short legs and a long torso though. This year, she has been having too many Little Debbies and has gotten in touch with here bootylicious honky-tonk badonkadonk. That’s what I decided to give her--again Natalie…I’ll pay for the therapy. So, with that said, the last few months have been difficult to get the jeans to go over the bootay, so that usually erupts into some sort of argument where I am blamed, and it couldn’t possibly be the Fudge Rounds. Go figure.
Let me introduce you to Natalie while I’m talking about her…Natalie was my dream come true! I wanted a baby girl so bad and when I found out she was going to be a girl, I was happy beyond measure! I had always had this picture in my head of sitting on the beach…maybe this came from the movie “Beaches”…with my daughter and we would both have on big wide-brimmed hats and sunglasses and pink toenail polish. (I’m smiling now) Natalie was born July 23, 2002. She is a Leo, and once again, possesses many Leo traits. She is a free-spirit like her mommy and she is extremely creative and artistic. She went in her room the other day with some popsicle sticks, glitter and a glue stick and came out with beautiful picture frames for us! Natalie is the kid that everybody likes--all of the older girls take her under their wing and love her. She also possesses some of the not-so great Leo qualities…she can be bossy and she is quite an instigator. She is very strong-willed, so I hope that will come out in positive ways as she matures. She loves to travel…she would never spend any time at home if she didn’t have to--she’d much rather go to Papaw and Nana’s or a friends house than to stay here with boring old us!
Then, like clockwork, Wyatt come down the hall, poking light sabers at us and demanding pancakes, with no consideration for the fact that the other kids need to eat because the bus will be here in 5 minutes. I have discovered microwavable pancakes and my children pretty much live on them now--a long time ago, in an enchanted world, I actually cooked breakfast…I got over it though…now it’s pop-tarts, microwave pancakes or cereal. Anyway, I pop pancakes in the micro and get everybody fed and out the door the older two go…Riley has now checked his folder 15 times to makes sure everything is in there (Rainman).
Then it’s just Wyatt and I for the rest of the day. Housework or studying begins, or some days I go work at the church and he goes to Paw Phil’s for a couple of hours. Wyatt likes to stay at home. He is polar opposite of Natalie who likes to roam. That nest-like quality is true of most Cancers, which he is. Let me back up. It was November of 2004. Kevin was in Pocahontas County hunting. I had been so darn tired and just didn’t feel right. I thought I was going to bed at 7:00 p.m. every night because of the time change. I decided to pop into CVS and get a pregnancy test anyway…we were finished having kids after Natalie, mind you. Two was perfect…a boy and a girl…happy and healthy. Well, I got home and I took the test. Girls, you know how you have the test window and you have the one line that says it’s working and then the other window gives you the line? Well, I was SOOOO pregnant that the positive came before the other window showed up! OMG! I cried and I was so upset and scared and I had no husband that I could reach by phone for 2 days to share this scary information with! That was a long two days. When I finally told him, in his usual, nonchalant fashion, he reassured me that it was fine and that we’d manage somehow. When I went to the doctor, I told them how far along I thought I could be…well the doctor literally jumped back and said, “Wooah! This baby is more than 8 weeks gestation…it has arms and legs!” So we had a good chuckle about all that and 7 months later (pregnancies are much shorter when you don’t know you’re pregnant til the 2nd trimester btw ;-) Wyatt Harden Griffith entered the world on June 23, 2005. He was the easiest baby to carry and the easiest labor and delivery. He was only 7 lbs. 4 ounces, so I guess that is why--Riley was 9 lb.s 4.5 ounces and Nat was 8 lbs. 14.5 ounces. Needless to say, I had my tubes tied on June 24, 2005 :o)
Wyatt is very imaginative. I think that is another Cancer quality. Riley never possessed this quality. Wyatt will sit and play for hours and the stories he tells are hilarious! He is athletic and is left-handed. He has been known to say a cuss word here and there, and of the three children, he is the toughest and the most menacing.
Ok, well that is how we start our day. Now that I have introduced you all to my zoo, I hope to update our goings-on every day or two. Stay tuned!
White Fang
May 7, 2009
This morning while I was having my coffee I was thinking about motherhood and the trials and triumphs and I relived the last very quick 10 ½ years in my mind. What made me cringe? My biting kids. Yes, if any of you have children that bite, or have ever bitten, you will feel my pain. That is tough. I have said it over and over again, I would rather be the mom of the kid who has been bitten than the mom of the biter. So bear that in mind if you ever pick your kid up from the babysitter and your kid has bite marks. Here are some of my tales…
All three of my children have been biters. Riley used to mostly bite his Papaw because there were no other children around to bite. That was pretty easy to handle--Papaw is a big boy, he doesn’t cry to much. Ha! I even caught Riley gnawing on my van tires in the driveway one time.
Natalie was also a biter. She bit Riley for the most part. As long as you can “keep it in the family” so to speak, it’s not that mortifying. I started babysitting Erin Hancock Stone’s little boy when Natalie was 2 and she and Luke would bite each other from time to time, but because turn about is fair play, Erin and I had a mutual understanding that it was no big deal.
Then Wyatt came along. Boy oh Boy. To say he was a biter is quite the understatement. I started babysitting Tina Dressler’s kids when Wyatt was almost two years old. Her little boy, Levi was three. Wyatt bit him nearly everyday. I would punish him, but it really never did any good…I always dreaded poor Tina coming to pick up Levi, because he would more than likely have bite marks on his arm. Easter Sunday of that year, I had nursery duty at the church. Easter always welcomes the “semi-annual” church visitors (the ones who come on Christmas and Easter), so the church was full. I had a ton of kids in the nursery. We were playing and reading stories and I looked over and Wyatt was hugging this sweet little girl. It was so cute. Then he bit her. On her face. OMG! It was horrible! I was mortified! She was screaming, I wanted to kill Wyatt, and before I could get the little girl calm, I looked over and another kid was crying because he had bit him! I just broke down right there in the nursery and literally cried my eyes out. I was just at my breaking point. I was embarrassed and felt like a complete failure. We have pictures of Easter dinner at my mom’s that year--those are lovely with my swollen eyes from crying. I wrote letters of apology to the victims’ families and I literally did not go back to church for 6 months after that. I was completely shaken and mortified, despite everyone’s understanding and my dad’s insight that he is just a baby and people understand and that it’s just something babies do.
That same year, we were down at the Covington Pizza Hut for a soccer fund raiser. Wyatt was playing in the little play corner and out of nowhere a kid starts screaming…you guessed it…Wyatt had the fangs out again. He bit Monica Tilley’s little boy for taking the truck he was playing with. I apologized over and over to her and left in tears.
This June Wyatt will be four years old. He hasn’t bitten anyone in quite sometime. I no longer worry when we are in groups of children that he will bite someone. My dad was right…as he most of the time is. It was a phase and I made it through.
So young moms, if something consumes your every thought and you worry relentlessly about it and wonder if it will ever be remedied, it will. Just hang in there. You’re doing great!
This morning while I was having my coffee I was thinking about motherhood and the trials and triumphs and I relived the last very quick 10 ½ years in my mind. What made me cringe? My biting kids. Yes, if any of you have children that bite, or have ever bitten, you will feel my pain. That is tough. I have said it over and over again, I would rather be the mom of the kid who has been bitten than the mom of the biter. So bear that in mind if you ever pick your kid up from the babysitter and your kid has bite marks. Here are some of my tales…
All three of my children have been biters. Riley used to mostly bite his Papaw because there were no other children around to bite. That was pretty easy to handle--Papaw is a big boy, he doesn’t cry to much. Ha! I even caught Riley gnawing on my van tires in the driveway one time.
Natalie was also a biter. She bit Riley for the most part. As long as you can “keep it in the family” so to speak, it’s not that mortifying. I started babysitting Erin Hancock Stone’s little boy when Natalie was 2 and she and Luke would bite each other from time to time, but because turn about is fair play, Erin and I had a mutual understanding that it was no big deal.
Then Wyatt came along. Boy oh Boy. To say he was a biter is quite the understatement. I started babysitting Tina Dressler’s kids when Wyatt was almost two years old. Her little boy, Levi was three. Wyatt bit him nearly everyday. I would punish him, but it really never did any good…I always dreaded poor Tina coming to pick up Levi, because he would more than likely have bite marks on his arm. Easter Sunday of that year, I had nursery duty at the church. Easter always welcomes the “semi-annual” church visitors (the ones who come on Christmas and Easter), so the church was full. I had a ton of kids in the nursery. We were playing and reading stories and I looked over and Wyatt was hugging this sweet little girl. It was so cute. Then he bit her. On her face. OMG! It was horrible! I was mortified! She was screaming, I wanted to kill Wyatt, and before I could get the little girl calm, I looked over and another kid was crying because he had bit him! I just broke down right there in the nursery and literally cried my eyes out. I was just at my breaking point. I was embarrassed and felt like a complete failure. We have pictures of Easter dinner at my mom’s that year--those are lovely with my swollen eyes from crying. I wrote letters of apology to the victims’ families and I literally did not go back to church for 6 months after that. I was completely shaken and mortified, despite everyone’s understanding and my dad’s insight that he is just a baby and people understand and that it’s just something babies do.
That same year, we were down at the Covington Pizza Hut for a soccer fund raiser. Wyatt was playing in the little play corner and out of nowhere a kid starts screaming…you guessed it…Wyatt had the fangs out again. He bit Monica Tilley’s little boy for taking the truck he was playing with. I apologized over and over to her and left in tears.
This June Wyatt will be four years old. He hasn’t bitten anyone in quite sometime. I no longer worry when we are in groups of children that he will bite someone. My dad was right…as he most of the time is. It was a phase and I made it through.
So young moms, if something consumes your every thought and you worry relentlessly about it and wonder if it will ever be remedied, it will. Just hang in there. You’re doing great!
My Marriage Vows if I knew then what I know now
If I knew then what I know now, my marriage vows would’ve went a little something like this:
I take you to be my Clyde and I your Bonnie--partners in crime, willing accomplices. We will have alibis from this day forward.
I expect you to love me when I’m on top of the world and in the darkest cave, through PMS, drunken stupors, and tender moments.
I need you to accept the fact that I’m probably never going to replace the toilet paper, and the empty cardboard ring will be on the holder more times that you would like, as well as the empty ice trays in the freezer.
I need you to love me through three pregnancies, one that will surprise us, but nonetheless be the best gift God ever gave us, and one miscarriage that will weigh heavy on my heart.
I need you to be there for me 10 years from now, when I decide that I need to get my degree because I want to be somebody that my kids will be proud of. It won’t be easy, I will neglect the housework and be a stressed, grumpy woman, but you can do it. I know you can.
I need you to make me laugh at the end of the day, because even funny people get down and out sometimes.
I need you to have a really strong back so you will be able to keep up with my Gemini urges to have the furniture moved around every other week.
I need you to understand that you will probably never understand me. I’m a complex creature. The good news is that you don’t really have to. Just accepting that I’m the furthest thing from perfect, and loving me despite it is good enough for me.
In exchange, I will love you through five moves, lay off slips and shift work.
I will try to accept the fact that you will hate my dogs (even though I will know you really don’t mean it).
I will accept that you do not like to take the trash out anymore than I like to replace the toilet paper.
I will give in to the big screen tv, even though I think it’s entirely too big, the boat, and most any other “man toys“ that you must have.
I will give you grey hair, and then cause you to lose your hair, and my final punch will be giving you high blood pressure. (I apologize in advance.)
I will look at you with our children and know that they are the luckiest kids on earth to have you as a father.
You will coach basketball and soccer and probably underwater basket-weaving if your little girl asked you to.
We will bicker at one another and say things we don’t mean.
We will also laugh together and say things we do mean.
We will go to bed mad once in a while--and maybe I’ll even throw you a blanket for your stay on the couch.
You will lose your spontaneity and impulsiveness and I will drive you insane trying to recapture it (hence the high blood pressure.)
We will figure out that raising three children is not a cakewalk.
We will be broke most of the time (all of the time).
We will wonder how the time seems to flash by so quickly--like our parents used to tell us when we were young.
One day, we’ll stare up at the stars in heaven and know that we have been blessed and decide that if we had to do it all over again, we would.
I take you to be my Clyde and I your Bonnie--partners in crime, willing accomplices. We will have alibis from this day forward.
I expect you to love me when I’m on top of the world and in the darkest cave, through PMS, drunken stupors, and tender moments.
I need you to accept the fact that I’m probably never going to replace the toilet paper, and the empty cardboard ring will be on the holder more times that you would like, as well as the empty ice trays in the freezer.
I need you to love me through three pregnancies, one that will surprise us, but nonetheless be the best gift God ever gave us, and one miscarriage that will weigh heavy on my heart.
I need you to be there for me 10 years from now, when I decide that I need to get my degree because I want to be somebody that my kids will be proud of. It won’t be easy, I will neglect the housework and be a stressed, grumpy woman, but you can do it. I know you can.
I need you to make me laugh at the end of the day, because even funny people get down and out sometimes.
I need you to have a really strong back so you will be able to keep up with my Gemini urges to have the furniture moved around every other week.
I need you to understand that you will probably never understand me. I’m a complex creature. The good news is that you don’t really have to. Just accepting that I’m the furthest thing from perfect, and loving me despite it is good enough for me.
In exchange, I will love you through five moves, lay off slips and shift work.
I will try to accept the fact that you will hate my dogs (even though I will know you really don’t mean it).
I will accept that you do not like to take the trash out anymore than I like to replace the toilet paper.
I will give in to the big screen tv, even though I think it’s entirely too big, the boat, and most any other “man toys“ that you must have.
I will give you grey hair, and then cause you to lose your hair, and my final punch will be giving you high blood pressure. (I apologize in advance.)
I will look at you with our children and know that they are the luckiest kids on earth to have you as a father.
You will coach basketball and soccer and probably underwater basket-weaving if your little girl asked you to.
We will bicker at one another and say things we don’t mean.
We will also laugh together and say things we do mean.
We will go to bed mad once in a while--and maybe I’ll even throw you a blanket for your stay on the couch.
You will lose your spontaneity and impulsiveness and I will drive you insane trying to recapture it (hence the high blood pressure.)
We will figure out that raising three children is not a cakewalk.
We will be broke most of the time (all of the time).
We will wonder how the time seems to flash by so quickly--like our parents used to tell us when we were young.
One day, we’ll stare up at the stars in heaven and know that we have been blessed and decide that if we had to do it all over again, we would.
Why Mother's Day is not my favorite holiday
Mother's Day just doesn't do it for me. I know that must sound like I'm some kind of terrible mother (and maybe I am), but I'm just not crazy about Mother's Day.
I'm not sure if I can fully put my finger on what it is...perhaps a couple of things. For one thing, when I wake up in the morning, I will have this feeling that I will have to be "on" all day. Well what if I wake up with a headache or just plain grumpy in the morning? I will have to fake things all day, just for the sake of Mother's Day. The one thing that I do enjoy about Mother's Day is planting flowers. I love to garden. Don't like to organize and clean, but love to plant and watch my flowers grow. My roses are about to bloom and my irises might pop through tomorrow. This is the one thing I look forward to each Mother's Day. My kids always help me dig in the dirt and stick the flowers in. That is a tradition I hope to continue. I hate trying to fit all of the Mothers/Step-Mothers/Grandmothers/Godmothers and on and on and on into one day. That is exhausting! So I just don't try anymore. I am also now the world's worst about sending cards. None of the moms will get cards from us--I know how insensitve and careless that sounds, but I am just too scatterbrained. Three children have done this to me! I honest to goodness, used to have my Christmas cards with pictures and newsletters inside in the mailbox on December 1st. Ha! Now they are lucky to arrive by New Years! And everyone always got a card from me for every holiday. My how things have changed. I still owe my nephew birthday money...his birthday was January 5th! Sheesh. I know...it's bad. The truth of the matter is, that I dont' need a special day for all this rigamaro. I talk to my mother, grandmother, step-mom every single day...multiple times. They know I love them because I tell them every day. That's Mother's Day to me. Tomorrow we will go to church and my kids will fight all morning about their breakfast and their clothes and I will probably run out the door with two different shoes on and thinking thoughts of killing my kids on the drive to church because they have unnerved me so...that's Sunday mornings at our house. But then I'll sit on the church pew and look over at my three precious ones and realize that Mother's Day really is pretty special, despite my skeptacism. Happy Mother's Day girls! We made it another year!
I'm not sure if I can fully put my finger on what it is...perhaps a couple of things. For one thing, when I wake up in the morning, I will have this feeling that I will have to be "on" all day. Well what if I wake up with a headache or just plain grumpy in the morning? I will have to fake things all day, just for the sake of Mother's Day. The one thing that I do enjoy about Mother's Day is planting flowers. I love to garden. Don't like to organize and clean, but love to plant and watch my flowers grow. My roses are about to bloom and my irises might pop through tomorrow. This is the one thing I look forward to each Mother's Day. My kids always help me dig in the dirt and stick the flowers in. That is a tradition I hope to continue. I hate trying to fit all of the Mothers/Step-Mothers/Grandmothers/Godmothers and on and on and on into one day. That is exhausting! So I just don't try anymore. I am also now the world's worst about sending cards. None of the moms will get cards from us--I know how insensitve and careless that sounds, but I am just too scatterbrained. Three children have done this to me! I honest to goodness, used to have my Christmas cards with pictures and newsletters inside in the mailbox on December 1st. Ha! Now they are lucky to arrive by New Years! And everyone always got a card from me for every holiday. My how things have changed. I still owe my nephew birthday money...his birthday was January 5th! Sheesh. I know...it's bad. The truth of the matter is, that I dont' need a special day for all this rigamaro. I talk to my mother, grandmother, step-mom every single day...multiple times. They know I love them because I tell them every day. That's Mother's Day to me. Tomorrow we will go to church and my kids will fight all morning about their breakfast and their clothes and I will probably run out the door with two different shoes on and thinking thoughts of killing my kids on the drive to church because they have unnerved me so...that's Sunday mornings at our house. But then I'll sit on the church pew and look over at my three precious ones and realize that Mother's Day really is pretty special, despite my skeptacism. Happy Mother's Day girls! We made it another year!
Happy Mother's Day from the Adopted Child
Happy Mother’s Day from the adopted child…
I do not know you
Have you seen me?
In a crowd of people
Would we be able to see
That we are connected
In some cosmic way
By something we would do
Or something that we would say?
How old are you?
Are you even still alive?
Maybe you are fifty
Or maybe fifty-five?
Is your hair dark as coal
Or maybe laced with gray?
Do you remember back thirty-two
Years ago this day?
The only Mother’s Day
You would ever share with me
For you must have loved me so,
Because you set me free.
You carried me inside of you--
Nine short months is all we had.
With every kick and wiggle
Were you happy or were you sad?
I know not the reasons
You had to let me go
I am not certain
If I will ever know.
Do you think of me today
As I think of you?
Do you wonder where I am
Do you wonder what I do?
Do we look like one another
Do our voices sounds the same?
I wonder if you even know
That Amanda is my name?
Amanda means loveable
And rightly named was I,
For I love with my whole heart
And when it breaks I cry.
Do you have squinty eyes
When a smile glistens your face?
Is your life blessed with laughter
Or is that really not the case?
Is my Grandma still alive?
And what about my Dad?
Do I have brothers and sisters?
I want to know so bad!
I was raised by two people
Who thought I hung the moon,
I was far from perfect though
They would find out soon!
I had my share of rebellion
Got in trouble a time or two,
But all in all I wasn’t bad,
The exceptions were quite few.
I grew up and got married
And had three children of my own,
I wish there would’ve been someway
That I could’ve made that known.
I wish you were around
To talk and just to chat,
To do mom and daughter things--
Paint our nails and stuff like that.
I have love all around me,
But I have never felt quite whole,
I have always wanted to know you
In the deep depths of my soul.
So on this Mother’s Day night,
I will look at the stars above
Blow sweet kisses into the wind,
And send you Mother’s Day love.
~Amanda Griffith
I do not know you
Have you seen me?
In a crowd of people
Would we be able to see
That we are connected
In some cosmic way
By something we would do
Or something that we would say?
How old are you?
Are you even still alive?
Maybe you are fifty
Or maybe fifty-five?
Is your hair dark as coal
Or maybe laced with gray?
Do you remember back thirty-two
Years ago this day?
The only Mother’s Day
You would ever share with me
For you must have loved me so,
Because you set me free.
You carried me inside of you--
Nine short months is all we had.
With every kick and wiggle
Were you happy or were you sad?
I know not the reasons
You had to let me go
I am not certain
If I will ever know.
Do you think of me today
As I think of you?
Do you wonder where I am
Do you wonder what I do?
Do we look like one another
Do our voices sounds the same?
I wonder if you even know
That Amanda is my name?
Amanda means loveable
And rightly named was I,
For I love with my whole heart
And when it breaks I cry.
Do you have squinty eyes
When a smile glistens your face?
Is your life blessed with laughter
Or is that really not the case?
Is my Grandma still alive?
And what about my Dad?
Do I have brothers and sisters?
I want to know so bad!
I was raised by two people
Who thought I hung the moon,
I was far from perfect though
They would find out soon!
I had my share of rebellion
Got in trouble a time or two,
But all in all I wasn’t bad,
The exceptions were quite few.
I grew up and got married
And had three children of my own,
I wish there would’ve been someway
That I could’ve made that known.
I wish you were around
To talk and just to chat,
To do mom and daughter things--
Paint our nails and stuff like that.
I have love all around me,
But I have never felt quite whole,
I have always wanted to know you
In the deep depths of my soul.
So on this Mother’s Day night,
I will look at the stars above
Blow sweet kisses into the wind,
And send you Mother’s Day love.
~Amanda Griffith
Today is Monday...
Well, today is Monday (for any of you that suffer from some kind of syndrome that wouldn't allow you to know what day today is).
I have two days left until the 3 Doors Down concert that I have been looking forward to for many weeks now. The best part of the entire thing...well, who am I kidding? The best part will be 3DD, but in a close second will be me getting to be with my three best friends for 24 hours! Deana, Lee Ann and Noreen will be joining me for the spectacular event and it will be fun for them, but I am the one who has a connection will all of them, so I am the luckiest one of the bunch.
So anyway, preparations for the concert...well, I have lost some weight over the last few months and I'm feeling not quite as blimp-ish as I was back in the fall, so that's a great thing. My hair, on the other hand, not treating me so well. It resembles broom straw. I am going to the salon tomorrow to see if Tammy can hook me up with some non-broom straw hair though. She will not be pleased to see that in a fit of rage last week, and scissors in hand, I did a little "trimming" shall we say. I just couldn't take those frazzled ends anymore. Sorry Tammy. That ain't the half of it though. Instead of doing my normal Clairol frost and tip, I let Deana convince me that I would be ok using the Preference Hair Color a few weeks ago, when I knew darn good and well that it would turn my hair a brilliant shade of brass. And it did. Not looking so good. So again, Tammy, just write it off as ignorance. See, when I graduated from high school, I wanted to go to Cosmetology School. Nope, my Dad said noway. He said I had to go to college. Well, I'm still working on that one...and I now have this unrequited love for all things beauty that I never was able to get out of my system. I'm a wannabe. Plain and simple. I want to be able to color my hair and I will probably never stop...despite my bad experiences and having been every color under the sun.
Well, other than my hair, there is still hope for me to look presentable, right? See, looking great at this concert is kind of a big deal to me because...well, let's just be honest here...I want to slap some hot pics up on Facebook. HaHaHa! I'm only kidding...well, not totally, who wants to post bad pics of themselves, right? "Man, I sure do hope I look like crap so I can post pics of my fat behind and my double chin on Facebook!" Really now. But I just don't go out all-too often...I spend a lot of time in my pjs, so it's easy for me to get excited about getting out of the pjs for an evening out.
So I bought myself a new shirt to wear! Woo-hoo! When you have three kids, that's more like a WOO-HOO! Mom and Dad rarely get new clothes. So anyway, found me a new shirt. Cute shirt. Well, yesterday was Mother's Day (again, for those of you with the syndrome aforementioned) and I sat down at the park with my kids and I had on shorts and a tank. Well, much to my surprise when I returned home and changed into my pjs, I had a sunburn! My shoulders and this lovely square on my chest. Did I mention that my shirt is strapless? Boy oh Boy! Isn't that going to be beautiful? The big red cut-out of my tank I was wearing amidst the strapless shirt? Geez, I hope 2 days and some bronzer will fill in the spaces.
And last but certainly not least...in perfect 7th grade fashion, I burned my head with the curling iron yesterday. What adult does that? Really now? I think that God was telling me that my hair is much better straight than flipped because those Mother's Day pics won't be gracing the walls of Facebook--cute kids--freaky- looking me.
Anyway, I'm sure Wednesday morning will bring about a black eye or huge zit or something that will try to sabotage my fun. Won't work though...I'm going with my funky sunburn lines, my 3rd degree curling iron burn and brassy hair baby! WOO-HOO! Ain't it fun getting old?
I have two days left until the 3 Doors Down concert that I have been looking forward to for many weeks now. The best part of the entire thing...well, who am I kidding? The best part will be 3DD, but in a close second will be me getting to be with my three best friends for 24 hours! Deana, Lee Ann and Noreen will be joining me for the spectacular event and it will be fun for them, but I am the one who has a connection will all of them, so I am the luckiest one of the bunch.
So anyway, preparations for the concert...well, I have lost some weight over the last few months and I'm feeling not quite as blimp-ish as I was back in the fall, so that's a great thing. My hair, on the other hand, not treating me so well. It resembles broom straw. I am going to the salon tomorrow to see if Tammy can hook me up with some non-broom straw hair though. She will not be pleased to see that in a fit of rage last week, and scissors in hand, I did a little "trimming" shall we say. I just couldn't take those frazzled ends anymore. Sorry Tammy. That ain't the half of it though. Instead of doing my normal Clairol frost and tip, I let Deana convince me that I would be ok using the Preference Hair Color a few weeks ago, when I knew darn good and well that it would turn my hair a brilliant shade of brass. And it did. Not looking so good. So again, Tammy, just write it off as ignorance. See, when I graduated from high school, I wanted to go to Cosmetology School. Nope, my Dad said noway. He said I had to go to college. Well, I'm still working on that one...and I now have this unrequited love for all things beauty that I never was able to get out of my system. I'm a wannabe. Plain and simple. I want to be able to color my hair and I will probably never stop...despite my bad experiences and having been every color under the sun.
Well, other than my hair, there is still hope for me to look presentable, right? See, looking great at this concert is kind of a big deal to me because...well, let's just be honest here...I want to slap some hot pics up on Facebook. HaHaHa! I'm only kidding...well, not totally, who wants to post bad pics of themselves, right? "Man, I sure do hope I look like crap so I can post pics of my fat behind and my double chin on Facebook!" Really now. But I just don't go out all-too often...I spend a lot of time in my pjs, so it's easy for me to get excited about getting out of the pjs for an evening out.
So I bought myself a new shirt to wear! Woo-hoo! When you have three kids, that's more like a WOO-HOO! Mom and Dad rarely get new clothes. So anyway, found me a new shirt. Cute shirt. Well, yesterday was Mother's Day (again, for those of you with the syndrome aforementioned) and I sat down at the park with my kids and I had on shorts and a tank. Well, much to my surprise when I returned home and changed into my pjs, I had a sunburn! My shoulders and this lovely square on my chest. Did I mention that my shirt is strapless? Boy oh Boy! Isn't that going to be beautiful? The big red cut-out of my tank I was wearing amidst the strapless shirt? Geez, I hope 2 days and some bronzer will fill in the spaces.
And last but certainly not least...in perfect 7th grade fashion, I burned my head with the curling iron yesterday. What adult does that? Really now? I think that God was telling me that my hair is much better straight than flipped because those Mother's Day pics won't be gracing the walls of Facebook--cute kids--freaky- looking me.
Anyway, I'm sure Wednesday morning will bring about a black eye or huge zit or something that will try to sabotage my fun. Won't work though...I'm going with my funky sunburn lines, my 3rd degree curling iron burn and brassy hair baby! WOO-HOO! Ain't it fun getting old?
Bored is Good!
This was a great weekend! Saturday was one of those days that went on forever...but not in a bad way. Kevin said it was really long too--but not in a bad way either. So strange these days for days off to feel like they are long, right? I remember being a kid and being bored a lot--an only child thing maybe...or maybe just the times...no internet...no Wii...no cell phones...just my bike, a basketball goal in the driveway and a tapeball game in the top circle in Cherokee with a neighborhood full of boys. Any of you all played tapeball? Just a ball made from some tape...sounds so hick-fied doesn't it? Man, those were good times. I lived in the top of Cherokee my whole childhood. Chad and Jason Williams, Tony and Chris Meadows, Robert and Wille Richard...then A.J. Smith and Kameron Crowder used to wander up for basketball games as we got older. I have always had good guy-friends and prize myself with being able to understand the opposite sex better than most women and I think I can attribute this to being a Tomboy and growing up with nothing but boys around. I used to sit on the front porch with my case of Barbies and bribe the boys in the neighborhood--if they would play Barbies, then I would play Cops and Robbers afterwards. It was a good system and those boys would be mortified knowing that I am revealing that they used to play Barbies with me on my front porch! HaHa.
I wish our kids could have more of that simple life--where days just seem to drag on. It breaks my heart when Riley will say, "Geez Mom, where does the time go? It just goes by so fast!" I NEVER remembered time going by quickly when I was a kid. Maybe the summer evenings went by quickly from the time supper was finished til dark when my mom stood on the front porch and called me in because it was dark and time to come inside and get ready for bed--other than that though, time was slow.
We had some great water gun battles when I was a kid. Man those were good times. Tony and I each had these black water guns--this was back before Super Soakers. I think he got one for his birthday in May and then he got me one for my birthday in June. We thought we were something else. Those things had a black canteen that hooked on your shorts that held the water. HaHa. We had many evenings of water gun battles and then somebody would always make that fatal mistake of shooting my dad. My parents weren't so sophisticated as to run inside in defeat...oh heck no...Daddy would manage to get us involved in a water gun battle in the front yard while he hooked up the water hose around back and soaked our butts when we came around. Then Mama would come out and we'd get her good...and for anybody who knows my Mom...well, you know revenge is a given. So one of us would be in the driveway and Mama would come out of the house with the dutch oven filled to the rim and dump that thing over our heads and laugh hysterically! I'm tellin' ya, those were good times. Nothing better.
My kids don't play baseball/softball. And I love it! That might sound terrible, especially since my husband played ball in college, but I love that tonight will finish off Cub Scouts and that we will have nothing scheduled for the remainder of spring and summer but FUN! Playing in the pool, running through the sprinkler, roasting marshmallows in the backyard...that's the kind of stuff that kids remember...the stuff that doesn't cost a dime. What are my favorite childhood memories? Building huts with Chad and Jason in the woods, playing Monopoly at the kitchen table at Tony's house til midnight, water gun battles in my backyard, sleigh riding down Cherokee hill and praying no cars are brave enough to try to come up the hill (that was the daring part haha)--and I remember being bored-- a lot--and it was great!
I hope my kids will remember being bored sometimes. I hope their lives aren't so over-scheduled and organized that their memories will be more of running to and fro to this and that than just being kids and making mudpies in the sandbox, catching fireflies on hot summer nights, and maybe I'll even manage to teach 'em how to build a hut.
I wish our kids could have more of that simple life--where days just seem to drag on. It breaks my heart when Riley will say, "Geez Mom, where does the time go? It just goes by so fast!" I NEVER remembered time going by quickly when I was a kid. Maybe the summer evenings went by quickly from the time supper was finished til dark when my mom stood on the front porch and called me in because it was dark and time to come inside and get ready for bed--other than that though, time was slow.
We had some great water gun battles when I was a kid. Man those were good times. Tony and I each had these black water guns--this was back before Super Soakers. I think he got one for his birthday in May and then he got me one for my birthday in June. We thought we were something else. Those things had a black canteen that hooked on your shorts that held the water. HaHa. We had many evenings of water gun battles and then somebody would always make that fatal mistake of shooting my dad. My parents weren't so sophisticated as to run inside in defeat...oh heck no...Daddy would manage to get us involved in a water gun battle in the front yard while he hooked up the water hose around back and soaked our butts when we came around. Then Mama would come out and we'd get her good...and for anybody who knows my Mom...well, you know revenge is a given. So one of us would be in the driveway and Mama would come out of the house with the dutch oven filled to the rim and dump that thing over our heads and laugh hysterically! I'm tellin' ya, those were good times. Nothing better.
My kids don't play baseball/softball. And I love it! That might sound terrible, especially since my husband played ball in college, but I love that tonight will finish off Cub Scouts and that we will have nothing scheduled for the remainder of spring and summer but FUN! Playing in the pool, running through the sprinkler, roasting marshmallows in the backyard...that's the kind of stuff that kids remember...the stuff that doesn't cost a dime. What are my favorite childhood memories? Building huts with Chad and Jason in the woods, playing Monopoly at the kitchen table at Tony's house til midnight, water gun battles in my backyard, sleigh riding down Cherokee hill and praying no cars are brave enough to try to come up the hill (that was the daring part haha)--and I remember being bored-- a lot--and it was great!
I hope my kids will remember being bored sometimes. I hope their lives aren't so over-scheduled and organized that their memories will be more of running to and fro to this and that than just being kids and making mudpies in the sandbox, catching fireflies on hot summer nights, and maybe I'll even manage to teach 'em how to build a hut.
My Bffs
Today I got up with Kevin and made his lunch for work and then went back to bed! Lastnight I was too tired to sleep I think. I was definately too tired to go downstairs and do laundry, but when I went to bed, I was wide awake, so I went in the living room and watched Southern Belles. Anybody watch that? I think I could get hooked on it. (I'm a dork, I know) Anyhoo, I stayed up til midnight watching that and after Kevin left this morning, I was still sleepy so I went back to bed. I rarely do that, so when I awakened at 7:15 this morning, I was mad for cheating myself out of those 2 hours of morning that I love so much!
I am considering playing church-hookey today and finishing cleaning my house because one of my two best friends is coming over for a cook out. I have lots of friends, but I have two best girlfriends that are more like sisters to me. Deana Dawson Mitchell and Lee Ann Gray. Deana and I have been best friends since 5th grade, went away to college together, and still remain best friends. I'm convinced that we're soul mates. Friendships like that are few and far between and I am so lucky to have her. We have been through so much together and share such a history that has spanned two decades.
Lee Ann is the one coming over today. Lee Ann is my other best friend and she and I met when I moved back to Covington from Bluefield. I knew people in Covington because I grew up here, but I had been gone for 6 years, so I didn't have any "real" friends here in Covington. My oldest son (who at that time was a mere 6 years old), signed up for soccer. I was at the Moose for soccer practice--just sitting in my chair and I noticed this radiant light of sunshine standing at the playground. You know when you are attracted to a boy/girl and you just feel that pull and that chemistry? Well, that's what I felt toward Lee Ann, minus the who romantic part HaHaHa! That is Lee Ann though. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt like that towards her. She has such energy and radiance that could light up a dark planet. She has such optimism and empathy that can bring you out of your darkest places. People are just drawn to her. We were friendly acquaintances for a about a year--seeing each other at soccer and YMCA basketball, but not much more. Then in 2006, I got this crazy idea that because our families meshed so well (we were great together, her husband DJ and Kevin were great together, and our two oldest kids were great together) that we would have a blast together for a week at the beach. So out of nowhere one day, I called and suggested that! HaHa. What a great idea it was, because here we are, 3 years later and we are the best of friends, as are our children and our hubs. I only wish Lee Ann and DJ would've had one more child so Wyatt would have a buddy, but Lee Ann said there's just noway. HaHaHaHaHa. Lee Ann and the kids will be joining us at OBX for a week in June. DJ had to work, so he got the short end of the stick this year.
One of these days it is going to work out that Deana and I get to go to the beach together again. We have a "southern star" to wish on and lots of old promises made on the deck of a beach house that we need to see realized. Wouldn't it be great to have lots of money? It's not things I would want, but it's people. I'd love to be able to spend so much more time with my friends and family. I know that doesn't cost a dime, but when everybody has to constantly work, it's hard to mesh schedules.
OK, time's a wasting and I have a house to clean and lots of towels to wash today--the toilet overflowed twice yesterday and then we had to replace a pipe on Friday--lots of towels to deal with.Have a great day!
I am considering playing church-hookey today and finishing cleaning my house because one of my two best friends is coming over for a cook out. I have lots of friends, but I have two best girlfriends that are more like sisters to me. Deana Dawson Mitchell and Lee Ann Gray. Deana and I have been best friends since 5th grade, went away to college together, and still remain best friends. I'm convinced that we're soul mates. Friendships like that are few and far between and I am so lucky to have her. We have been through so much together and share such a history that has spanned two decades.
Lee Ann is the one coming over today. Lee Ann is my other best friend and she and I met when I moved back to Covington from Bluefield. I knew people in Covington because I grew up here, but I had been gone for 6 years, so I didn't have any "real" friends here in Covington. My oldest son (who at that time was a mere 6 years old), signed up for soccer. I was at the Moose for soccer practice--just sitting in my chair and I noticed this radiant light of sunshine standing at the playground. You know when you are attracted to a boy/girl and you just feel that pull and that chemistry? Well, that's what I felt toward Lee Ann, minus the who romantic part HaHaHa! That is Lee Ann though. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt like that towards her. She has such energy and radiance that could light up a dark planet. She has such optimism and empathy that can bring you out of your darkest places. People are just drawn to her. We were friendly acquaintances for a about a year--seeing each other at soccer and YMCA basketball, but not much more. Then in 2006, I got this crazy idea that because our families meshed so well (we were great together, her husband DJ and Kevin were great together, and our two oldest kids were great together) that we would have a blast together for a week at the beach. So out of nowhere one day, I called and suggested that! HaHa. What a great idea it was, because here we are, 3 years later and we are the best of friends, as are our children and our hubs. I only wish Lee Ann and DJ would've had one more child so Wyatt would have a buddy, but Lee Ann said there's just noway. HaHaHaHaHa. Lee Ann and the kids will be joining us at OBX for a week in June. DJ had to work, so he got the short end of the stick this year.
One of these days it is going to work out that Deana and I get to go to the beach together again. We have a "southern star" to wish on and lots of old promises made on the deck of a beach house that we need to see realized. Wouldn't it be great to have lots of money? It's not things I would want, but it's people. I'd love to be able to spend so much more time with my friends and family. I know that doesn't cost a dime, but when everybody has to constantly work, it's hard to mesh schedules.
OK, time's a wasting and I have a house to clean and lots of towels to wash today--the toilet overflowed twice yesterday and then we had to replace a pipe on Friday--lots of towels to deal with.Have a great day!
SOLs and stuff...
Today Riley has SOL testing. Yesterday he said, "Mom, I have my SOLs tomorrow so I need a good night's sleep and I need you to cook me a good breakfast." Kevin said, (pretending to be me) "Ok Riley, you want Hot Fudge Sundae or Smores Pop Tart?" HaHa. I do have a breakfast cooking blockage here lately. Funny that I am a morning person but hate cooking breakfast in the mornings.
I am somewhat anti-SOL and "No child left behind." I fear this will hinder my teaching aspirations as I am not one to hold back on telling others what I think. I think students should not be left behind, but I think sugar-coating things is not really how the real world works and if you are failing miserably, that you repeat the 4th grade next year...not go on to 5th and have remediation. I also think that kids should learn as much as possible, but being the free-spirit I am, I tend to believe that much is learned through art and music and philosophy and astronomy and fiield trips and show and tell. I can remember being in grade school and people bringing in artifacts from summer trips they had taken...they would show something and tell about where they had been and what they did. It was a learning experience. No time for that now though...cuts into the SOL curriculum. I believe that students need recess and P.E. all the way through high school...and year round, not one semester or 1 day a week or whatever. They need time to release energy and goof off.
And each year, students should be taught basic skills such as making change, balancing a checkbook (not online and not with a calculator...with good ole paper and pencil), sewing on a missing button, and things such as these that may not be on the SOL curriculum. Ever been to Arby's when the power goes out? It's as if Dominion Virginia controls their brains. When the power goes off and the cash register shuts down, it is now impossible for them to give you change back because it freezes their brains. Whether you're going to be a cashier at Walmart or an MD, you need to know this stuff.
Which brings me to my next point...completion of high school. Upon completion of high school I think that the government owes you a trip around the world. Yep, you get to see the world...in exchange, you will serve in either the military or the Peace Corp for two years. A better understanding of our freedom and sacrificies and the suffering of those around us will give everyone a better understanding of how we are truly blessed and perhaps will curb some of the "entitlement" mentality that so many of us (myself included) possess.
When we are 20 years old and have served our country, then we can decide on further education or employment. We will be much more grown up and have a much better focus on things than at 18 years old.So that's what's on my mind this morning...and Riley is out the door and I made him 2 microwavable pancakes. At least it wasn't a Pop Tart. Good luck on the SOLs Riley!
I am somewhat anti-SOL and "No child left behind." I fear this will hinder my teaching aspirations as I am not one to hold back on telling others what I think. I think students should not be left behind, but I think sugar-coating things is not really how the real world works and if you are failing miserably, that you repeat the 4th grade next year...not go on to 5th and have remediation. I also think that kids should learn as much as possible, but being the free-spirit I am, I tend to believe that much is learned through art and music and philosophy and astronomy and fiield trips and show and tell. I can remember being in grade school and people bringing in artifacts from summer trips they had taken...they would show something and tell about where they had been and what they did. It was a learning experience. No time for that now though...cuts into the SOL curriculum. I believe that students need recess and P.E. all the way through high school...and year round, not one semester or 1 day a week or whatever. They need time to release energy and goof off.
And each year, students should be taught basic skills such as making change, balancing a checkbook (not online and not with a calculator...with good ole paper and pencil), sewing on a missing button, and things such as these that may not be on the SOL curriculum. Ever been to Arby's when the power goes out? It's as if Dominion Virginia controls their brains. When the power goes off and the cash register shuts down, it is now impossible for them to give you change back because it freezes their brains. Whether you're going to be a cashier at Walmart or an MD, you need to know this stuff.
Which brings me to my next point...completion of high school. Upon completion of high school I think that the government owes you a trip around the world. Yep, you get to see the world...in exchange, you will serve in either the military or the Peace Corp for two years. A better understanding of our freedom and sacrificies and the suffering of those around us will give everyone a better understanding of how we are truly blessed and perhaps will curb some of the "entitlement" mentality that so many of us (myself included) possess.
When we are 20 years old and have served our country, then we can decide on further education or employment. We will be much more grown up and have a much better focus on things than at 18 years old.So that's what's on my mind this morning...and Riley is out the door and I made him 2 microwavable pancakes. At least it wasn't a Pop Tart. Good luck on the SOLs Riley!
Discoveries
Yesterday was possibly the best day I've had in a year. I'm serious. Nothing sensational happened--I just spent the 90 degree day out by the pool, reading a little, watching the kids swim a little. It was just terrific.
What makes a great day anyway?
For me it was going outside yesterday morning with my coffee and hearing the spring birds sing their lovely song... logging in a few hours of work and coming home and taking my rightful spot in a chair beside the pool. The sun was in all its mighty glory yesteday. I'm not sure what it is about the first hot days of summer that dance with my soul. Perhaps it takes me back to my younger days...Deana and I liked to occasionally skip out of 7th period and take joy rides when those first days of summer reared their sensationally sunny head. We would ride to the lake, to Humpback Bridge, just anywhere as long as there was music on the radio and wind in our hair. We used to do the same thing in college--those first hot days would find us on a road trip to Hinton or heading off to Beckley to see what kind of trouble we could stir up.
Nature is a good place to start to figure out who the heck you are and to continue to find out who you are...It may be basking in the light of the sun, or counting the stars in the sky on a clear night, or spotting the first "lovers' moon" of the spring. It might be laying in the yard watching the clouds turn into mythical creatures or exotic animals. It might be leaning back against the trunk of a maple tree and finding shade and solace. As I approach my 32nd birthday, it's fitting to think back to the girl I was when I was skipping 7th period. The funny thing is that she's really not much different than who I have become. She was a little more fearless and confident, but all in all, she is pretty much the same--I still drive to the lake on that first warm spring day...I still enjoy taking a ride across Hayes Gap at sunset. I am still rendered speechless when I see a shooting star in the night sky.
I have discovered a few things about me over the last 15 years, however that I didn't know during 7th period. I discovered that, no matter how little sleep you have had, you can still stay up all night to care for a sick child. I discovered that spit-up stains stuff--like really bad. I discovered that I loved my dog a great deal...but when she bit my baby, our love was over. I discovered that I could make a mean Play-Doh pizza. I discovered that $100/week was not an adeqaute grocery budget for 5 people. I discovered that the human body is pretty darn flexible--and I have the battle marks to prove it. I discovered that hearing your child say his or her prayers at night can touch places in your soul that you didn't even realize existed. I discovered that mini-vans are neither cool nor sexy, but neither is a butt stuck up in the air while trying to wrestle three kids out of the backseat of a car. I've discovered that the voices in my head are usually wrong, but the ones in my heart are usually right. I've learned that it's never too late to try something new. I have discovered that plain vanilla soft serve is even better than a hot fudge sundae. I have learned that something happens after childbirth that makes you queasy when you ride the Scrambler. I have discovered that age brings on self-doubt. "Am I skinny enough? Am I pretty enough? Am I cool enough?" And I have also learned that age and time also bring you to your truest friends and family that will answer for you, "Well, probably not, but you're good enough for us."
What makes a great day anyway?
For me it was going outside yesterday morning with my coffee and hearing the spring birds sing their lovely song... logging in a few hours of work and coming home and taking my rightful spot in a chair beside the pool. The sun was in all its mighty glory yesteday. I'm not sure what it is about the first hot days of summer that dance with my soul. Perhaps it takes me back to my younger days...Deana and I liked to occasionally skip out of 7th period and take joy rides when those first days of summer reared their sensationally sunny head. We would ride to the lake, to Humpback Bridge, just anywhere as long as there was music on the radio and wind in our hair. We used to do the same thing in college--those first hot days would find us on a road trip to Hinton or heading off to Beckley to see what kind of trouble we could stir up.
Nature is a good place to start to figure out who the heck you are and to continue to find out who you are...It may be basking in the light of the sun, or counting the stars in the sky on a clear night, or spotting the first "lovers' moon" of the spring. It might be laying in the yard watching the clouds turn into mythical creatures or exotic animals. It might be leaning back against the trunk of a maple tree and finding shade and solace. As I approach my 32nd birthday, it's fitting to think back to the girl I was when I was skipping 7th period. The funny thing is that she's really not much different than who I have become. She was a little more fearless and confident, but all in all, she is pretty much the same--I still drive to the lake on that first warm spring day...I still enjoy taking a ride across Hayes Gap at sunset. I am still rendered speechless when I see a shooting star in the night sky.
I have discovered a few things about me over the last 15 years, however that I didn't know during 7th period. I discovered that, no matter how little sleep you have had, you can still stay up all night to care for a sick child. I discovered that spit-up stains stuff--like really bad. I discovered that I loved my dog a great deal...but when she bit my baby, our love was over. I discovered that I could make a mean Play-Doh pizza. I discovered that $100/week was not an adeqaute grocery budget for 5 people. I discovered that the human body is pretty darn flexible--and I have the battle marks to prove it. I discovered that hearing your child say his or her prayers at night can touch places in your soul that you didn't even realize existed. I discovered that mini-vans are neither cool nor sexy, but neither is a butt stuck up in the air while trying to wrestle three kids out of the backseat of a car. I've discovered that the voices in my head are usually wrong, but the ones in my heart are usually right. I've learned that it's never too late to try something new. I have discovered that plain vanilla soft serve is even better than a hot fudge sundae. I have learned that something happens after childbirth that makes you queasy when you ride the Scrambler. I have discovered that age brings on self-doubt. "Am I skinny enough? Am I pretty enough? Am I cool enough?" And I have also learned that age and time also bring you to your truest friends and family that will answer for you, "Well, probably not, but you're good enough for us."
My Rebounder
My Dad and I met on June 17, 1977. I was born on June 14, 1977 and brought to a one-bedroom garage apartment on Parrish Street to meet my parents three days later. I think it was love at first sight for both of us. My dad used to tell me how my crib was at the foot of mom and dad’s bed and for the first days of my life, he would lie at the foot of the bed and watch me sleep and sit there and cry, in awe that God had chosen to give him such a precious gift. I don’t remember much of that…I was busy sleeping and eating and crying I would guess.
I don’t know when my first memories of my Dad start. I’ve often thought to myself if memories from our earliest days are actually existent or if a lot of those memories we have are simply from pictures and stories that those older tell us. My grandfather (my Mom’s dad) died when I was not quite 3 years old. He was the manager of a Company Store in Burnwell, WV. I think I can remember him sitting me on the counter at the store and letting me pick out the candy of my choice when I went to visit. I think I can remember him walking me down to the bridge to throw rocks in the creek. Do I really remember these things or are these things rather memories that are brought to me from stories and pictures?
I don’t remember living at that apartment on Parrish Street--we moved into our house in Cherokee on December 26, 1978. All my memories begin in Cherokee. I remember my Dad and I getting up waaay before daybreak and putting on our finest fishing gear and going fishing at Douthat. I’m not a very good fisherwoman…I am just too impatient. I remember going out with Daddy on our little fishing boat to Lake Moomaw and catching 25 bluegill….granted, I probably caught the same 5 bluegill 5 times, but Daddy never let me know that. A lot of my memories revolve around Church. We were at Church every time the doors were open. I was sure I was the only kid at Parrish Court that had to endure Wednesday night Prayer Meeting, Sunday night Bible Study and every other thing that happened there. I resented it at the time…I am grateful for it now. Parenting is all about planting seeds. You may see your crop harvested immediately, or it may take 20 or 30 years for them to harvest.
I remember my Dad playing basketball in the driveway with me every single day of my life from 4th grade to 12th grade. He was my rebounder. Pretty funny…I still think of him as my rebounder. Webster’s defines rebound as “to recover, as from ill health or discouragement.” When I fail miserably at the game of life, I still count on my Dad to be my rebounder.
My Dad has always put a lot of pressure on me. At times, I resented him for that. Now I see that he could see capabilities in me that I didn’t see in myself and wanted me to always reach for the moon…if I missed, I could always grab onto a star. There is no one on earth who adores a daughter quite like a father. He is her protector, her cheerleader, her rock and her hero. He adores her and loves her unconditionally.
It takes a special kind of man to raise a daughter. We girls seem to deviate from the standard manual from time to time. We cry a lot. We get our feelings hurt easily. We could possibly be defiant and rebellious. I had a little brown stuffed Puppy that my mom broke down and bought me from Legget one time when I was a tiny thing. I named him Brownie. Who knew that little brown dog would come to mean so much to me? His eyebrows have been sewn back on 3 times, as well as his nose. I took Brownie with me everywhere I went. When I was sad or hurt, my Dad would come to me, pick up Brownie and in this high-pitched voice, talk to me…through Brownie. I never remember being sad after I talked to Brownie…I always ended up laughing. Brownie’s talks got me through many things from fights with friends, a bad grade on a test, and even a broken heart or two.
My dad has always been my biggest fan. He has always encouraged me and believed in me. He has always wanted more for me…I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard the lecture, “I want you to get your education so you will never have to work shift work like Daddy does.” Isn’t this what every parent wants for their child? No matter how good our lives may be, we always want better for our children.
It’s hard for me to write or talk about my Dad because I am so passionate about him. When I was a freshman in college, I gave a speech about my Dad for my required Speech class. I don’t know how I got through that thing, but I did, and I got an A in the class and became the Teacher’s Pet from that moment on. I think it had little to do with my speaking abilities and much to do with my subject matter.
I love my Daddy. I love him for always being there for me. I love that he cries in church, just like me. I love that he complains about his dog and scratches her ears when nobody’s looking. I love that he wore “Winners” from Sears so I could have the latest Nike fashion for my feet. I love that he wrote me weekly letters when I was in college. I love the way he tells a story. I love the way he always seems to find a way to slip me some extra cash when he knows we don’t have quite enough that month. I love the way my kids look sitting on his old, bad knees. I love his patience and his perseverance. I love how he never yelled at me when I was a kid. I love how he still drives his ‘84 Ford Pick-Up. I love how he gets frustrated with me when I forget to get my van inspected or have the oil changed. I love that he used to sit me on the bed and read the Bible to me. I love the way he knelt down beside the bed with me to pray. I love the way he danced with me at my wedding…possibly the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life…but it was for me, so he did it. I just love him…not for one thing, but for 32 years of things.
Happy Father’s Day Daddy! XOXO
I don’t know when my first memories of my Dad start. I’ve often thought to myself if memories from our earliest days are actually existent or if a lot of those memories we have are simply from pictures and stories that those older tell us. My grandfather (my Mom’s dad) died when I was not quite 3 years old. He was the manager of a Company Store in Burnwell, WV. I think I can remember him sitting me on the counter at the store and letting me pick out the candy of my choice when I went to visit. I think I can remember him walking me down to the bridge to throw rocks in the creek. Do I really remember these things or are these things rather memories that are brought to me from stories and pictures?
I don’t remember living at that apartment on Parrish Street--we moved into our house in Cherokee on December 26, 1978. All my memories begin in Cherokee. I remember my Dad and I getting up waaay before daybreak and putting on our finest fishing gear and going fishing at Douthat. I’m not a very good fisherwoman…I am just too impatient. I remember going out with Daddy on our little fishing boat to Lake Moomaw and catching 25 bluegill….granted, I probably caught the same 5 bluegill 5 times, but Daddy never let me know that. A lot of my memories revolve around Church. We were at Church every time the doors were open. I was sure I was the only kid at Parrish Court that had to endure Wednesday night Prayer Meeting, Sunday night Bible Study and every other thing that happened there. I resented it at the time…I am grateful for it now. Parenting is all about planting seeds. You may see your crop harvested immediately, or it may take 20 or 30 years for them to harvest.
I remember my Dad playing basketball in the driveway with me every single day of my life from 4th grade to 12th grade. He was my rebounder. Pretty funny…I still think of him as my rebounder. Webster’s defines rebound as “to recover, as from ill health or discouragement.” When I fail miserably at the game of life, I still count on my Dad to be my rebounder.
My Dad has always put a lot of pressure on me. At times, I resented him for that. Now I see that he could see capabilities in me that I didn’t see in myself and wanted me to always reach for the moon…if I missed, I could always grab onto a star. There is no one on earth who adores a daughter quite like a father. He is her protector, her cheerleader, her rock and her hero. He adores her and loves her unconditionally.
It takes a special kind of man to raise a daughter. We girls seem to deviate from the standard manual from time to time. We cry a lot. We get our feelings hurt easily. We could possibly be defiant and rebellious. I had a little brown stuffed Puppy that my mom broke down and bought me from Legget one time when I was a tiny thing. I named him Brownie. Who knew that little brown dog would come to mean so much to me? His eyebrows have been sewn back on 3 times, as well as his nose. I took Brownie with me everywhere I went. When I was sad or hurt, my Dad would come to me, pick up Brownie and in this high-pitched voice, talk to me…through Brownie. I never remember being sad after I talked to Brownie…I always ended up laughing. Brownie’s talks got me through many things from fights with friends, a bad grade on a test, and even a broken heart or two.
My dad has always been my biggest fan. He has always encouraged me and believed in me. He has always wanted more for me…I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard the lecture, “I want you to get your education so you will never have to work shift work like Daddy does.” Isn’t this what every parent wants for their child? No matter how good our lives may be, we always want better for our children.
It’s hard for me to write or talk about my Dad because I am so passionate about him. When I was a freshman in college, I gave a speech about my Dad for my required Speech class. I don’t know how I got through that thing, but I did, and I got an A in the class and became the Teacher’s Pet from that moment on. I think it had little to do with my speaking abilities and much to do with my subject matter.
I love my Daddy. I love him for always being there for me. I love that he cries in church, just like me. I love that he complains about his dog and scratches her ears when nobody’s looking. I love that he wore “Winners” from Sears so I could have the latest Nike fashion for my feet. I love that he wrote me weekly letters when I was in college. I love the way he tells a story. I love the way he always seems to find a way to slip me some extra cash when he knows we don’t have quite enough that month. I love the way my kids look sitting on his old, bad knees. I love his patience and his perseverance. I love how he never yelled at me when I was a kid. I love how he still drives his ‘84 Ford Pick-Up. I love how he gets frustrated with me when I forget to get my van inspected or have the oil changed. I love that he used to sit me on the bed and read the Bible to me. I love the way he knelt down beside the bed with me to pray. I love the way he danced with me at my wedding…possibly the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life…but it was for me, so he did it. I just love him…not for one thing, but for 32 years of things.
Happy Father’s Day Daddy! XOXO
Birthdays
My precious Wyatt is 4 years old today! So cliche to go on and on about how the time flies and how they grow up so quickly. Now we know how our own parents must've felt at each milestone...4th birthday...sending us off to Kindergarten...our 13th bday...our driver's license...high school graduation...and what must've been just a little more than the blink of an eye, we were gone and out on our own.
Probably most of you all reading this are married and have children. Kev and I will be married 12 years in August. Man, it seems like just yesterday that we were picnicking in Cade's Cove on our honeymoon. Then came Riley and even when he was small, time just went by a little slower. Natalie came along and it went by a little quicker, but still a much slower pace than now. Wyatt came along and life took off in 5th gear!
Wyatt has brought so much joy to our lives, despite the fact that we never had plans to have that 3rd child. He was the most beautiful baby I have ever laid eyes on--just perfect. For the first year of his life, he would only let me hold him...we had a very special bond. I would pay for that by his 3rd year, because then he discovered his Daddy-O (that's what he calls K) and I was soon forgotten :-) Wyatt and Kev have an incredibly special bond. I love to watch those two play catch or lay on the couch or listen to them have a conversation.
I read an article a long time ago in Parents magazine. It was about going overboard for kids' birthday parties. Lots of parents go crazy with birthday festivities and I was one of those people for a long time. The conclusion of the article urged us TO GO OVERBOARD with the birthday festivites...that doesn't mean you have to spend a fortune...it's about thought and time anyway...as are all things that bring happiness. June 23 is the one day of the year that we celebrate 7 lb., 4.5 oz 20 inch long, Wyatt Harden Griffith! What a gift that is to treasure and be entrusted with and a true blessing from God. It's a honor for all of us to be given our children to care for and love and raise to be wonderful, loving, giving adults.
Our birthdays are the one day of the year that people celebrate each of US--just for being US. It's a day to tell others that life just wouldn't be the same if you weren't here and I'm sure glad you are. It's nice to know that your mere existance makes a difference in the world.
I'm glad to have my FB pals...if you're on my FB friend list, your mere existance has made a difference in my world in some way and I appreciate that...now let's get these birthday festivities rollin' baby! Happy Birthday Wyatt! Love, Maurice
Probably most of you all reading this are married and have children. Kev and I will be married 12 years in August. Man, it seems like just yesterday that we were picnicking in Cade's Cove on our honeymoon. Then came Riley and even when he was small, time just went by a little slower. Natalie came along and it went by a little quicker, but still a much slower pace than now. Wyatt came along and life took off in 5th gear!
Wyatt has brought so much joy to our lives, despite the fact that we never had plans to have that 3rd child. He was the most beautiful baby I have ever laid eyes on--just perfect. For the first year of his life, he would only let me hold him...we had a very special bond. I would pay for that by his 3rd year, because then he discovered his Daddy-O (that's what he calls K) and I was soon forgotten :-) Wyatt and Kev have an incredibly special bond. I love to watch those two play catch or lay on the couch or listen to them have a conversation.
I read an article a long time ago in Parents magazine. It was about going overboard for kids' birthday parties. Lots of parents go crazy with birthday festivities and I was one of those people for a long time. The conclusion of the article urged us TO GO OVERBOARD with the birthday festivites...that doesn't mean you have to spend a fortune...it's about thought and time anyway...as are all things that bring happiness. June 23 is the one day of the year that we celebrate 7 lb., 4.5 oz 20 inch long, Wyatt Harden Griffith! What a gift that is to treasure and be entrusted with and a true blessing from God. It's a honor for all of us to be given our children to care for and love and raise to be wonderful, loving, giving adults.
Our birthdays are the one day of the year that people celebrate each of US--just for being US. It's a day to tell others that life just wouldn't be the same if you weren't here and I'm sure glad you are. It's nice to know that your mere existance makes a difference in the world.
I'm glad to have my FB pals...if you're on my FB friend list, your mere existance has made a difference in my world in some way and I appreciate that...now let's get these birthday festivities rollin' baby! Happy Birthday Wyatt! Love, Maurice
Seven Days
Goodbye Beach…
Tomorrow morning we will pull out of the driveway of our Kitty Hawk cottage and wave goodbye to a only seven short days of our lives. We have all spent a week at the beach in the summer…some of us are annual visitors. The salty air, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the flat tidewater land…I love the beach from the time I cross out of the Piedmont region of Virginia and the land flattens and my views are no longer obscured by green rolling hills, but are replaced with wide open highway. I love seeing the ships at Hampton Roads and traveling through the tunnel and emerging out the other side. I am always awed by the fact that someone possessed the kind of ingenuity that would allow me to travel under water. And then out of total darkness, I start to see the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel.” And with that light, comes the excitement and anticipation of a child on Christmas morning. There’s a certain liberation as you emerge out of that tunnel. For my children, it’s the knowledge that they will spend an entire week in the world’s largest sandbox. They will run out and crash into the waves with all their force. They will play tag with the waves. They will hunt crabs in the dark with their flashlights and scream when one surprises them! They will watch the edge of the water for bubbles and dig for sand shrimp when they see them. For myself, it is knowing that for seven days, I will not have to see the mailman. (No offense Jimmy…it’s not the messenger…it’s the message!) I won’t have to crack a book or go to work. I won’t have to wake up early…even though I find myself waking up at the beach earlier than I do at home. I still have to referee some fights, cook a meal or two and even fold a few loads of laundry, but these tasks are less painful when you can look out the window and see the sea. I have spent six days lying on the beach…got so relaxed that I fell asleep on two separate occasions.
I have spent these days “people watching” and even made some new friends mid-week. There are lots of locals where we are staying this year and I love it. Most of them are older folks who have already endured the ins and outs of child-rearing and the days of living the working-class life. Most of them have grown children and grandchildren now. They live here with their dogs and have a communion with their neighbors. They love the holiday weekends, because it is then that their loved ones come to share their paradise with them. A lovely older couple sat next to me yesterday and the gentleman observed the breaking waves as the lady tended to her knitting. “What a way to spend your golden years,” I thought to myself. These people are friendly and they smile and they laugh a lot. I’m sure they have the same struggles as all of us, but living in paradise seems to lessen the blows. Our next door neighbor’s name was John. John walked his 12 year-old beagle in front of our street several times a day and Kevin got to know him. He is a retired school teacher…a Penn State alumni that flew his blue and white Nittany Lions flag proudly from his deck. His sons graduated from WVU and he joked with Kevin about how the WVU fans saw his Penn State license plates and threw things at his car! His wife is a writer, but hasn’t bothered publishing anything yet…just writing for her grandchildren so far. Kevin knew I would enjoy knowing the information about his wife, as my dream is to live by the sea and write.
My daughter, Natalie made friends with two little girls from Kentucky this week. Yesterday, they gathered in front of the water and had their picture taken together…a photograph that will be treasured for years to come and a reminder of the innocence and fun of childhood as they grow older. Natalie came back under our umbrella and tears welled up in her eyes and mine, too. I knew that very feeling. So many years of my life I have made friends at the beach and shared a short seven days of my life with them, and had to say goodbye. A measly seven days of a thirty-two year life. It is those seven days a year throughout our lives that we form some of the fondest memories, however.
Sunday, July 5, 2009 5:34 p.m.
We are back in Covington. I just spent 45 minutes unpacking my suitcase and pulling each article of clothing out and pressing the fabric to my nose for that trace of the unmistaken smell of the beach. I laughed at myself as I thought anyone who saw me would think I had escaped from the funny farm! I was smelling my clothes as if someone had died and I was trying to remember their scent. Coming home from vacation is somewhat of a mourning process though, I reasoned. Seven short days, 40 or 50 snapshots and a file in the center chamber of our hearts earmarked, “Family Vacation.” It will forever be there for retrieval…no risks of viruses or hackers to destroy the contents. When I sit back and watch my children grow each year, I will go to that file and flip through, year by year, and remember back when Riley took his first steps in the sand when he was 10 months old and when Natalie lay napping, so angelic under the striped umbrella, snuggled up with her blankie and pacifier at 2 years old, while the May breeze blew along the seashore. I will double-click the file in my heart that will reveal Wyatt standing on his board at the edge of the water, awaiting a wave to skim him across the surf. I will close my eyes and pull out the file marked, “Fireworks” and think of Kevin and I standing barefoot in the sand, watching the sky light up with light and the reflection of the sparkle in the ocean.
Yeah, it’s just a tiny snippet of life…seven days a year over many years of life. For me, however, it’s a seven-day-a-year communion with the universe. It’s a family tradition that my children can begin to stow away in their hearts and pull out as they grow older. It’s an escape from the hustle and bustle of life and a reconnection with the things that are most important.~aRg
Tomorrow morning we will pull out of the driveway of our Kitty Hawk cottage and wave goodbye to a only seven short days of our lives. We have all spent a week at the beach in the summer…some of us are annual visitors. The salty air, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the flat tidewater land…I love the beach from the time I cross out of the Piedmont region of Virginia and the land flattens and my views are no longer obscured by green rolling hills, but are replaced with wide open highway. I love seeing the ships at Hampton Roads and traveling through the tunnel and emerging out the other side. I am always awed by the fact that someone possessed the kind of ingenuity that would allow me to travel under water. And then out of total darkness, I start to see the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel.” And with that light, comes the excitement and anticipation of a child on Christmas morning. There’s a certain liberation as you emerge out of that tunnel. For my children, it’s the knowledge that they will spend an entire week in the world’s largest sandbox. They will run out and crash into the waves with all their force. They will play tag with the waves. They will hunt crabs in the dark with their flashlights and scream when one surprises them! They will watch the edge of the water for bubbles and dig for sand shrimp when they see them. For myself, it is knowing that for seven days, I will not have to see the mailman. (No offense Jimmy…it’s not the messenger…it’s the message!) I won’t have to crack a book or go to work. I won’t have to wake up early…even though I find myself waking up at the beach earlier than I do at home. I still have to referee some fights, cook a meal or two and even fold a few loads of laundry, but these tasks are less painful when you can look out the window and see the sea. I have spent six days lying on the beach…got so relaxed that I fell asleep on two separate occasions.
I have spent these days “people watching” and even made some new friends mid-week. There are lots of locals where we are staying this year and I love it. Most of them are older folks who have already endured the ins and outs of child-rearing and the days of living the working-class life. Most of them have grown children and grandchildren now. They live here with their dogs and have a communion with their neighbors. They love the holiday weekends, because it is then that their loved ones come to share their paradise with them. A lovely older couple sat next to me yesterday and the gentleman observed the breaking waves as the lady tended to her knitting. “What a way to spend your golden years,” I thought to myself. These people are friendly and they smile and they laugh a lot. I’m sure they have the same struggles as all of us, but living in paradise seems to lessen the blows. Our next door neighbor’s name was John. John walked his 12 year-old beagle in front of our street several times a day and Kevin got to know him. He is a retired school teacher…a Penn State alumni that flew his blue and white Nittany Lions flag proudly from his deck. His sons graduated from WVU and he joked with Kevin about how the WVU fans saw his Penn State license plates and threw things at his car! His wife is a writer, but hasn’t bothered publishing anything yet…just writing for her grandchildren so far. Kevin knew I would enjoy knowing the information about his wife, as my dream is to live by the sea and write.
My daughter, Natalie made friends with two little girls from Kentucky this week. Yesterday, they gathered in front of the water and had their picture taken together…a photograph that will be treasured for years to come and a reminder of the innocence and fun of childhood as they grow older. Natalie came back under our umbrella and tears welled up in her eyes and mine, too. I knew that very feeling. So many years of my life I have made friends at the beach and shared a short seven days of my life with them, and had to say goodbye. A measly seven days of a thirty-two year life. It is those seven days a year throughout our lives that we form some of the fondest memories, however.
Sunday, July 5, 2009 5:34 p.m.
We are back in Covington. I just spent 45 minutes unpacking my suitcase and pulling each article of clothing out and pressing the fabric to my nose for that trace of the unmistaken smell of the beach. I laughed at myself as I thought anyone who saw me would think I had escaped from the funny farm! I was smelling my clothes as if someone had died and I was trying to remember their scent. Coming home from vacation is somewhat of a mourning process though, I reasoned. Seven short days, 40 or 50 snapshots and a file in the center chamber of our hearts earmarked, “Family Vacation.” It will forever be there for retrieval…no risks of viruses or hackers to destroy the contents. When I sit back and watch my children grow each year, I will go to that file and flip through, year by year, and remember back when Riley took his first steps in the sand when he was 10 months old and when Natalie lay napping, so angelic under the striped umbrella, snuggled up with her blankie and pacifier at 2 years old, while the May breeze blew along the seashore. I will double-click the file in my heart that will reveal Wyatt standing on his board at the edge of the water, awaiting a wave to skim him across the surf. I will close my eyes and pull out the file marked, “Fireworks” and think of Kevin and I standing barefoot in the sand, watching the sky light up with light and the reflection of the sparkle in the ocean.
Yeah, it’s just a tiny snippet of life…seven days a year over many years of life. For me, however, it’s a seven-day-a-year communion with the universe. It’s a family tradition that my children can begin to stow away in their hearts and pull out as they grow older. It’s an escape from the hustle and bustle of life and a reconnection with the things that are most important.~aRg
The lightning
I have been SOOOO extrememly tired this week! I have been up early to let the bathroom guy in to work each day this week and tried to entertain the children so he could work without 3 little ones observing his every move! The bathroom is now complete and I will post pics later today. I love it! I have never had such a new and pretty room in my life and it's quite a treat! Many thanks to my grandparents and parents for helping us to have such a lovely space! Why is it when you remodel a room that you look around the rest of your house and wish you could remodel the entire place? I don't think I can stand the chaos for quite a while, however. I'm not an organized person, but when you live in a small house, you have to have things somewhat unified and organized or the whole place looks like a mess. Anyway, I layed in bed until almost 9 a.m. this morning and i have not done that in AGES! It was definately what I needed. I hope I can continue to re-energize this week because Natalie is having her tonsils and adenoids out next week and I will have to try to play nurse-Mommy to her.
This is a short note today, but I wanted to tell everybody what I saw last night. I was sitting out back, and it was around 9:00 maybe. In the center of the sky were dark clouds and on each side of those dark clouds, the sky was light--not like daylight, but much lighter than the middle of the sky. The entire sky was full of clouds, but behind the lighter clouds, I could see lightning. It was as if the lightning was kind of obscured by the clouds. The flashes were horizontal behind the clouds and it was like nothing I had ever seen before. It just struck me so funny how this strong lightning could be obscured by these soft, light clouds. It kind of made me think about life. Sometimes we are like that. Sometimes the light things in our lives can obscure the strong things. Sometimes we can't see the beauty within ourselves or within others because a a few clouds are obscuring our view. Take time to look through the clouds and the see lightning in others. Sometimes we just have to look to the left or to the right for the light, but sometimes we have to wait patiently for the clouds to part.
This is a short note today, but I wanted to tell everybody what I saw last night. I was sitting out back, and it was around 9:00 maybe. In the center of the sky were dark clouds and on each side of those dark clouds, the sky was light--not like daylight, but much lighter than the middle of the sky. The entire sky was full of clouds, but behind the lighter clouds, I could see lightning. It was as if the lightning was kind of obscured by the clouds. The flashes were horizontal behind the clouds and it was like nothing I had ever seen before. It just struck me so funny how this strong lightning could be obscured by these soft, light clouds. It kind of made me think about life. Sometimes we are like that. Sometimes the light things in our lives can obscure the strong things. Sometimes we can't see the beauty within ourselves or within others because a a few clouds are obscuring our view. Take time to look through the clouds and the see lightning in others. Sometimes we just have to look to the left or to the right for the light, but sometimes we have to wait patiently for the clouds to part.
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