Category Archives: working mom

The Magic of the Little White House


Hi Everyone! 

There was an article on the Atlantic web site (http://www.theatlanticwire.com/global/2011/04/worlds-last-typewriter-factory-closed/37013/ ) yesterday stating that the last typewriter manufacturing factory in the world is closing its doors.  While there is a dispute as to whether that is true, see http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2011/04/26/worlds-typewriter-factory-shutting-doors/, all sources seem to be in agreement that the typewriter is reaching the end of its days. 

 When I think of a manual typewriter, the typewriter that comes to mind is the typewriter that has been used by four generations in my family, starting with my Great-Grandmother, and ending so far with Kayla. 

The typewriter used to sit in that most magical of places to a child growing up, the Little White House.  The Little White House was a small two bedroom, one bath house behind my grandparents’ house on their land.  When I was very small, my grandparents used it as a place for my great-grandmother to live independently, but near enough to them that they could help her. 

1969, Grandma and Grandpa's House

 

1969, The Little White House, from the Back Patio of the main house

By the time I was old enough to stay with  my sisters at my grandparents for a couple of weeks at a time, my great-grandmother had died, and the Little White House served as Grandpa’s shop and storage room.  Grandpa liked to fix up clocks, so the second (middle) room of the house had an assortment of clocks hanging on the wall, along with the tools needed to fix them.   Each of us, his grandchildren, have at least one clock that he fixed in our house.  Mine is a Seth Thomas clock, manufactured in the United States under a patent issued in 1890.  (I took the face glass out to avoid extra glare in the picture, but it is still intact.)  

In the front room, there was a solid desk, probably oak or maple, and the typewriter sat there.  Grandpa would use that typewriter to write letters.  One of our favorite things to do while we were at Grandma and Grandpa’s was to go into the Little White House and bang on the typewriter to our heart’s content.

There were many other objects of interest in the house; I remember an old bed, and trunks, cabinets and cupboards that were full of fascinating objects, including old family photographs that introduced me to a whole generation of my family that had passed on long before I was born.  The desk contained Great-Grandma’s efforts to trace the history of the family, and at the time I saw it she had traced it back to the Revolutionary War. 

This was the last page of her research, and it was typed using the same typewriter that Kayla is using in the picture above.   The handwriting is Great-Grandma’s also.

This was Great-Grandma shortly before she moved into the Little White House.

One of the pictures we found in the Little White House was the following picture, which shows my Grandfather’s family when he was around 10 or 11.

On the left side, my grandfather is in front, with Great Grandma standing behind him, and Great Grandpa further behind her.  This picture was taken somewhere around 1926 or 1927.  Pretty amazing stuff, isn’t it?

Grandma and Grandpa moved into a smaller house in the late ’80’s, but sold the old house to another couple and the Little White House is still standing.  I’m glad it’s still there, but  I don’t need to go into it again; I prefer to remember it the way it was when I was a child, fascinating, mysterious and full of treasures.

Do you have any such secret places from your childhood, magical places that were filled with thrills and adventures every time you walked in?  If so, please share your story in the comments.  I’d love to hear from you!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Differences Between Men and Women: Exactly When Was the Election Held?


Hi Everyone!

Somewhere along the line, a very important election was held, and the women either weren’t informed about it, or completely shut out of the voting process. 

That’s the only explanation I can come up with for some of the following:

1)    Panty Hose

Joe Namath notwithstanding, panty hose is an extremely odd fashion accessory to saddle a woman with.  Not only do they rip and run very easily (I average one wearing per pair)  but a woman has about a 1 in 3 chance of getting them on correctly to the point that they are even halfway comfortable.  And in climates such as the Deep South, they are not designed to keep you cooler throughout the day!

2)    Make-up

Exactly who dreamed up the idea that females should every day spread a range and assortment of very expensive goop in varying amounts across their faces, and then paint on top of the goop?  Or, conversely, who decided that only women, and not men too, needed to perform this ritual?

3)  Shopping for Clothes

Have you ever gone shopping with a man for clothes?  The clothes are all laid out neatly in sections together – pants with pants, shirts with shirts, underwear in a neat section behind the counter.  Women’s clothes, on the other hand, as a general rule, are scattered throughout the women’s section, with only loose groupings of  sizes (misses, women’s and petites) and “occasion” dresses. 

4)   Fashion

Adult men’s clothing styles, for the most part (excluding the 1970’s)are very stable.  The one fashion item for men that seems to change drastically every once in a while is the width of ties – and since they have two choices, wide ties and narrow ties, all they have to do is have a selection of both and they are covered either way.  Women’s clothing styles can change as much as three times in one year. 

 

5)   Shoes

With the notable exception of platform shoes from the seventies, men’s shoes tend to stay flat, and fairly comfortable.  Women’s shoes come in all shapes and sizes, and apparently the higher the heel the more attractive the shoe.   The only problem for me is that I can’t walk well in anything higher than about a 1-inch heel. 

6)   Hair

My husband can wash and brush his hair and be ready to go out the door in 5 minutes.  My hair (admittedly it is getting long right now) takes a lot longer – I’m lucky to get it washed and blown dry in 15 to 20 minutes.  For him to get his hair cut costs about $15.00 at the same barber shop he has been going to since he went to college lo these many years ago.  I can’t even get my hair shampooed for that!

7)   The failure to invent the riding vacuum cleaner

According to Ehow.com, the first riding lawn mower (powered by horses) was invented in 1900, and the first gas-powered riding lawn mower was invented in 1919.  The world still awaits the invention of the (non-horse-powered, of course) riding vacuum cleaner.

8)  Electronics

My husband can work every audio-visual piece of equipment in the house and the remotes that come with them with no difficulty whatsoever.  I can use the same equipment, do the exact same thing that he does in the exact same order, and the *&^%%$%#%$^^&%& equipment still refuses to work.  

9) The Automatic Laundry Folding Machine

We can send a man to the moon, and build a space station, but we can’t invent an affordable machine that will automatically fold my laundry once it finishes in the dryer?  Priorities people!

10)   Hormones

Enough said.

So, Ladies, keep your eyes peeled.  Surely these things will come up for a vote again sometime in the next 500 years, and this time, let’s make sure we show up!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Mondays and Water Piks


Good morning everyone!

We have made it back around to Monday again.  I hope everyone had a great weekend!

  • Mondays

I have to admit that I’m not that fond of Mondays.  It’s actually not the whole day I object to, but the getting up part.  Waking up on Monday after sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday is quite a shock to my system, especially since I am not a morning person.  (Apparently, from the whines and moans coming from Kayla’s room, it is a shock to her system also.)  The shock causes me to do weird and wonderful things, like looking for my glasses when I am already wearing them.  (I did that this morning; fortunately, it didn’t take me too long to figure it out!)  Until I began commuting to work about 9 years ago, I firmly believed that the thirteenth commandment was “Thou shalt not wake up before 6:00 a.m.”  Now I do it every Monday through Friday.  

  • The Fountain of Water Pik

As soon as Kayla got her braces, we went out and bought her a Water Pik to use.  The Water Pik shoots a jet of water into your mouth that is supposed to push anything out of your braces that is not supposed to be there.  I had one when I had braces as a child. 

Given the way it shoots out water, I think it must be the antecedent to the Jet Ski.  I can see some future engineer cleaning his or her braces with a Water Pik, then having a “Eureka” moment – “you know, this same action could be used to propel a vehicle through the water!”  Whoever he or she is, I hope they  made a lot of money off of the idea.

Kayla and her Water Pik very much have a forced marriage, as in her father and I have to force her to use the Water Pik every day.  Last night, I told her to use her Water Pik when she was getting ready for bed, and in a second or two I heard it switched on in the bathroom.  The only problem was that I had been in her bathroom earlier in the day, and I hadn’t seen any water in it then, and I hadn’t heard any water placed in it before it started running.  So we asked her to be sure it had water in it.  There was a pause in the bathroom, then the Water Pik started running again.  I still hadn’t heard any water put in the thing, so I got up to go check. 

There was water in it all right, or at least there had been before Kayla started using it.  When I walked in the bathroom, Kayla had her mouth full of water and the water had also just started squirting out through her nose like a fountain.  I don’t think it was intentional, because she and I started laughing about it at the same time.    I’m still not quite sure how she managed to do it; I used a Water Pik for 2 years as a teenager back in the Dark Ages, and never had that happen! 

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Time for Reflection: Thoughts on Good Friday


Hi Everyone!

If you are a working parent (or really, I think if you are anyone in the crazy world we live in today) there seems to be very little time for reflection.  I don’t know if we are all really that busy, or if we just have so many more delightful (or non-delightful) distractions that call us away from time to just be and think, but please indulge me today as I carve out some time this morning to write, mainly for myself, about the meaning of an important day in my religion, Good Friday. 

From Print Shop Professional 2.0

For Christians, Good Friday commemorates the day that Jesus was crucified.  I have wondered often why Good Friday is called Good Friday, since the event it commemorates is a solemn, horrific event, but a quick jog over to Wikipedia, through the American Heritage Dictionary informs me that when Good Friday was originally named, “Good” had the meaning of “pious or holy.”  So, when you substitute in the word “Holy Friday,” it makes more sense. 

From Print Shop Professional 2.o0

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Christian beliefs, we believe that it was during this week, the week of the Jewish Passover, that Jesus deliberately allowed himself to be arrested and crucified in order to provide redemption for every person’s sins.  Easter, which is always the Sunday after Good Friday, is a special day to remember the most important event in all of Christianity, Jesus’ resurrection from the dead.  Without Good Friday, neither Christmas nor Easter, from a Christian standpoint, would make much sense.

I do wonder, though, whom I would have been if I had been alive during this week in Jesus’ life.  (I began thinking about some of these things from a post I read in  the blog, “Servant’s Life” by Stacy (at www.servantslife.com) called “Christ and the Cross”).  As a modern Christian, I like to think I would have been the one person who stood by Jesus throughout his entire ordeal, knowing with confidence the true meaning of this death, but the wiser part of me knows better.

You see, NOW I have the advantage of knowing the entire story. At the time, the people involved were in the middle of it, and even Jesus’ closest friends and followers were shocked, scared and bewildered by what was going on. Would I have been a follower, scared and bewildered? Would I have been one of the people seeking His death due to what I saw as an intolerable threat to the status quo in the politically torn world of Israel under the Romans? Would I have been one of the people in the streets who didn’t really care what was going on in the temple, the Roman governor’s office or the hill of Golgotha (the place where the crucifixion took place) thinking that what happened up there didn’t affect me?  Would I have been someone who believed in Jesus in secret, but not brave enough to speak out for Him or defend Him?  Would I have been one of those who mocked Him as He was scourged, suffering, and crucified? Would I have been throwing lots at the foot of the cross for His clothes?  These questions are uncomfortable, and I will leave the conclusions I reached (if any) private, but I think it is an important point for me to reflect on.

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

 My other thought about Good Friday is simply how it takes a conscious effort to keep my daughter aware of what this weekend really means – that Good Friday and Easter have a deeper meaning beyond the impending arrival of the Easter Bunny (although we participate in that with glee and enjoy it) but about something deeper and more important.  I imagine that other parents in other religions also have to work to help their children understand the meaning of important events in their religions.  It is not inappropriate to take this small moment of reflection to evaluate my efforts in this area, too.   However, my conclusions I will keep private. 

From Print Shop Professional 2.o

However solemn Good Friday is, the main point of Easter is love and hope.  So, whatever events you are or are not celebrating this weekend, I wish for you to experience both.  Thank you for your indulgence, and I hope each of you have a wonderful weekend, and a Happy Easter!

Nancy

The Thief, The Necklace and The Eggs


Hi Everyone!

Noble as he looks, the past two days have been Darwin’s (No-no’s) turn to get in trouble. 

  • The Thief

Mark came home Monday night and was really feeling bad, so I gave him an array of choices for supper.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat.  He wasn’t really hungry at first, either, so Kayla and Iwent ahead andate, leaving his plate of ravioli on the counter, but pushed far enough back that Mandy couldn’t get it.  After Kayla went to bed, Mark decided he could eat a little bit, so I walked into the kitchen to discover that someone had eaten all of the ravioli off of his plate but one.  My suspicions were already on Darwin, because it is hard for a white dog to eat almost a full plate of Chef Boyardee ravioli (you surely didn’t think I had cooked anything more complicated than that?) without there being some traces of spaghetti sauce somewhere on her fur.  However, the evidence was not overwhelming. 

Later that evening, we heard noises from the kitchen again, and Mark went hurtling into the kitchen.  Being the sharp investigative agent that I am, I realized that it couldn’t be Mandy, because she was charging around the corner, afraid that she was missing something.  Sure enough, it was Darwin, going for the last piece of ravioli on the plate which Mark had left out deliberately to catch “the thief” in action.  I didn’t get the impression that Darwin was particularly sorry for anything but getting caught, either.

  • The Necklace

Two weekends ago, Kayla and I got to go over to a good friend’s house to begin  learning how to make necklaces from beads.  We had a great time, and Kayla came home with two necklaces she had designed, both of them as cute as they could be.  One of them was made of blue/gray beads, strung with elastic wire and had a pineapple pendant in the center.  The beauty of the elastic was that all she had to do to put in on was to pull it over her head. 

I worked at home yesterday, and about 11:00 a.m.  I started to hear funny noises from the den.  Whenever I would go over to investigate, the noises would stop.  I finally was fast enough to see Darwin chomping on a pile of blue/gray unstrung beads.  While I am usually fairly unflappable about what the dogs eat, (if they can survive a full tube of Neosporin, how much is there to worry about?) small, floss-like wire/string is another matter.  It can cause trouble in a dog’s stomach.  I scooped up the beads, searched Darwin’s mouth for any remainder (every time I wasn’t looking at him while I was picking up the beads it sounded like he was chewing something), then tried to decide whether I needed an emergency visit to the vet or not.  I walked into the bedroom for a minute, and looked down, and there was Darwin, chewing on the remainder of the beads (where he hid them I do not know), which were, thankfully, still hanging on the elastic string/wire.  Much to his disgust and my relief, I scooped the beads and the wire up and put them where they were definitely out of reach. 

The Necklace Remains

  • The Eggs

Have you ever stopped to think about how little we really see sometimes?  Research has shown that, as adults, we reflexively take a kind of mental shortcut once we have catalogued a place or a person, and whenever we see that afterwards we “see” enough to identify the space and then cease to look intensely anymore.  This behavior is quite understandable; by being able to limit the number of things we have to observe closely at any one time, our brains are able to focus on the things we absolutely must.

Still, sometimes, that mental shortcut  can cause us to miss out on interesting sights.  Kayla and I went to the local McDonald’s for breakfast yesterday morning, since I was taking her to school and we were ready to leave the house in plenty of time for us to go, her to be on time at school, and me to begin work by 8.  While we were there, she saw a friend of hers and after she said hello, I had to work to keep Kayla focused on eating her biscuit rather than trying to see what the friend was up to.  After we had been there about twenty minutes, I suddenly noticed shiny, bright Easter Eggs hanging from the ceiling.  Logically, I know they had been there all along, but it was like they just suddenly appeared to me.  Someone went to a lot of trouble to hang them and it really looked festive.  I don’t know what short-circuited my mental filter at just that moment, but I’m glad it did, or I would have missed a colorful sight.  After all, you don’t see Easter Eggs hanging from a ceiling in McDonald’s every day!

Plastic Easter Eggs

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

The Dream versus Reality


I have a dream. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

 In my dream, I have perfectly coiffed hair, stunning make-up, an elegant outfit, a house that shines in every sense of the word – dark wood floors that stay shiny instead of riddled with paw prints, none of those piles of clutter that inexplicably build up in odd nooks and crannies throughout the house – a daughter who has done her homework before I pick her up from day care, and three dogs sedately trotting beside me as I gracefully glide toward the door to greet my husband as he returns from a hard day’s work.  If I need a pen, a pencil, the tape, scissors, paper or any kind of widget at all (I never have figured out what a widget is, but they sure are mentioned a lot!), I can go (gracefully glide) immediately to the spot where the item is located.  As my husband walks in the house, he is greeted by the wafting aroma of a home cooked meal, completely from scratch, using the best recipes I can cull from The Joy of Cooking or The Fannie Farmer Cookbook.  Even though this gourmet meal is being presented, the kitchen itself is spotlessly clean.  I am completely caught up with all my chores at home, and all my projects at work have been finished at least five days before the deadline.  (Those of you from work who read this can pause to roll on the floor laughing for a moment. )

The gap between this dream and reality is very far indeed. 

(Those of you who have come to our house for supper do not see this reality – we make sure the house is picked up before you come over!) 

When my husband usually comes home from work, he is met by three frantic dogs, two of whom are doing their best to jump on him any way they can. 

 Having just finished and filed the brief that was due today at 4:30 right before I headed for the house,  I am now at 6:15 having a discussion (read argument) with Kayla as to why she failed to complete her homework at after school care rather than waiting until we got home.  I also am explaining to her (this concept is relatively new) that just because you didn’t have any worksheets from school doesn’t mean that you have no homework – after all, if the teacher gives you a study sheet and hints that you are having a test on the study sheet on Friday, she intends for you to review the study sheet in the intervening week. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

 The kitchen is not clean, and I am doing my best to piece together a fairly quick supper because a) I failed to plan the meals in advance and b) we just got home and I have about 1 hour and 45 minutes to get Kayla bathed, fed, ready for bed and still give her some modicum of time to spend playing and having some quality time with us.  We usually have laundry lurking somewhere, whether unfolded in a basket or in the form of  ironed pieces hanging on the the mantel (and what ironing was done was done because Mark did it), and the pile of shoes in my bedroom (see,https://workingmomadventures.com/2011/03/03/earth-fare-the-longest-walk-general-von-bissing-and-the-birds/) is anywhere between two and four pairs.  As for perfectly coiffed hair – you can forget it.  I am lucky to have gotten it washed in the morning with enough time to let it air dry, and as a general rule my make-up is never perfect. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

The dogs, if I walk them, with the exception of Tyra, have pulled me out of the door looking rather like a crazed Hittite charioteer without a chariot,  being pulled by dogs, not horses.  I have often wondered if I tried it on roller skates, how fast I could be clocked before I fell and seriously injured myself.    The inside of the refrigerator looks like a no-man’s land, with odds and ends in containers that I can’t remember what they were or when they were cooked. 

An actor rides a Roman-stule horse-drawn chariot in Jerash, Jordan, during a rehearsal for 'The Roman Army and Chariot Experience,' a one-hour show held in honour of Julius Caesar, and part of Jordan's newest tourist attraction(AFP/File/Khalil Mazraawi)

This is the problem with the dream – it makes me feel continually inadequate, and I am doing it to myself!  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have decided that the dream is the way most people live, and if I don’t measure up to that, then I am not worthy.  While I should (and am trying to) do better on keeping the house picked up (understand, Mark does pull more than his fair share here; I am the one that has the organizational/neatness issues), it will never be perfect.  In fact, I wouldn’t want it to be, since for the three dogs to be trotting sedately beside me I would have to have a different trio than the lovable mutts that romp beside me through my day, for me to have a daughter that does her homework perfectly and on time every day, I would have to have a different daughter, and for me to have the floors sans paw marks, I wouldn’t be able to have the dogs.  (Well, actually, I could also have lighter wood, but that wouldn’t look right in the house, either.)  There probably would be a lot less laughter, too.

So, I guess rather than tasking myself with inadequacy, I will change the things I can, accept the things I can’t, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference.  I also will go read the latest book on how to keep things organized, once I find it after threading through the shoes on my bedroom floor and searching in the clutter stack that is growing on its own in the corner…..

If you can relate let me know!  I would love to know that I’m not the only one  out here.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Best and Worst


Hi Everyone!

PHIZ Illustration of Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.  It was the day when my sweet daughter demonstrated her extraordinary love, and the day when my mischievous daughter had all my buttons pushed in about 10 minutes.  With those of you who have kids, isn’t that the way it usually is?

From Print Shop Professional 2.0

Mark had a cold this weekend; colds are harder on him than on most people because of reasons there are no need to go into here.  He still got up and went to church, but couldn’t stay for Sunday School, since he wanted to save enough energy for the Sunday night choir service.  Kayla and I stayed for Sunday School, and then once we got home and had lunch, the solemn ritual of the Sunday afternoon nap began.  (Almost every Sunday, Mark and I take a long nap – I’m embarrassed to say that it is one of the highlights of my weekend!) 

From Print Shop Professional 2.0

 Mark didn’t sleep very long because of his cold, and once he woke up Kayla bebopped out of her room, where she gets to sleep or play quietly as she chooses during nap time.  When I woke up at 3, she came into my bedroom to tell me that I needed to come see Daddy immediately.  When I asked why, she told me that he was freezing cold, even though his temperature seemed normal, and she had already given him two blankets and she didn’t know what else to do for him.  As I headed from the bedroom to the den, she also firmly told me that I needed to give Daddy a kiss.  Then she paused and added, “But you need to do it somewhere where it won’t hurt him.”  (One of Mark’s side effects from running a temperature is extreme pain.)  Now, how much more sweet and loving can a daughter get?  Not much!

Kayla Playing Around At Halloween

Then we came to the 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. time slot, where she squirmed, talked, played school and just generally made those noises kids can make that hit a nerve somewhere at the base of your spine and shiver on up to your brain to the “guaranteed to irritate” button.  Towards the end of this time,  we were driving Mark’s mom to take her to the concert with us, and Kayla insisted on being the center of attention.  I was close to my last shred of patience when we pulled up to the church.  (To other parents:  doesn’t that always leave you in the proper mood for worship?   It would be interesting to see videos of families with children under the age of 12 right before leaving for church, and compare that to when they arrive at church.  Sometimes the picture is very different, at least in our house!). 

Fortunately, shift change had arrived, and sweet child came back on the scene.  She sat through an hour of Easter music with no difficulty and impeccable behavior, and enjoyed it very much.  I think though, that she used all the patience she had available to her in that hour, because once she and I got home, the antics started again.  Let’s just say I was extremely frustrated by the time I got her in bed.  Then she reached out to give me my good-night hug, and somehow none of the rest mattered anymore.  I guess the entire day was the best of times, after all!

Kayla and Mandy right after we got Mandy

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Updates: Roadkill, Rites of Spring (I) and Grumpy


Hi Everyone!

Sorry this is a little late, but I am having problems with my internet access at my house.  I thought I would update you on previous posts today.

Darwin and Mandy

  • Roadkill

I’ll start with the dogs.  You may remember the stuffed animal toys that had been keeping Darwin and Mandy out of trouble for at least a week?  Well, the two of them finally discovered both the stuffing and the squeakers in the animals and in the space of about three days managed to remove both.  We haven’t (although we probably should) thrown any of them out yet; even though a deflated stuffed dog toy looks a lot like roadkill, Darwin still really loves them and I hate to take them away from him yet.  On the other hand, Mandy’s consumption rate on handkerchiefs and other items has started to climb back up.  The other night I didn’t get the kitchen cleaned in time, and before we knew it, she had helped herself to left-over steak and fries for a hearty night-time snack.  Once we caught her at it, she came trotting back over to the den, but she wasn’t particularly sorry about what she’d done, either. 

Tyra is slowing down a little bit, which isn’t unusual for a dog her age.  Part of her problem is the canine glaucoma she has in her left eye; I don’t think she sees very well out of it anymore, so to go anywhere in the house she circles around the long way so she can see where she’s going through her other eye.  She ended up sulking last night, which I have never seen her do before. 

Tyra in the Kitchen (Mandy and Darwin are in the background)

Mark likes to play the piano.  She likes to stand beside him while he plays and expects him to play one-handed every so often so she can get petted while he plays.  Last night, however, he didn’t stop to pet her.  After about 20 minutes of that, Tyra walked over to Mandy’s carrier and went and sat inside it with her face pointing away from Mark at the piano.  The only explanation was that she was sulking.  When he finished, he went over to the carrier and coaxed her back out.  

  • Rites of Spring (I)

The Way My Garden Groweth (NOT!)

In my March 23 post, “Spring, Roosters & Butterflies”, http://wp.me/p1mXHZ-4U, I mentioned that the first rite of spring was going into a trance at a garden center and walking out with all kinds of spring flowers.  That was three weeks ago.  As of today, the pansies that I bought are still alive outside, but have not been transplanted into the planters on the porch (I have instead hidden the normal planters and left the pansies in the pots they came in), and the grass seed, caladium, gladioli and lily bulbs still remain in the trunk.  Hopefully I will get a chance to work on it Saturday! 

  • Grumpy

While yesterday morning, sweet child made an appearance, this morning saw the arrival of grumpy, crying child.  The first cry came over the fact that she had “nothing to wear.”  For those of you who don’t know us personally, trust me – the child has plenty to wear.  For some reason, she didn’t appreciate it when I proved this fact to her by pulling out a pair of shorts and a shirt for her.  The second cry came while she was brushing her hair in the bathroom; when I went in to investigate, I discovered her brushing her hair so hard with the hairbrush that it almost amounted to her hitting her head with the hairbrush.  Further inquiry established that the problem was that neither her bangs, nor a section of hair would lie down flat.  Although my suggestion that she use some “no tangle” spray on the rebellious sections was scorned at first, I noticed that the problem was fixed exactly the way I had suggested.  When she finally came out of the bathroom, she announced she was not going to have breakfast at home because she was sure they were going to have cheese grits for breakfast at school.  The third sulk (not a cry, because Mark was out in the great room by then, too) was over the fact that I refused to let her take ginger ale in a thermos to school.  School rules specifically state that soft drinks are not allowed, so we made her pour it out.  She decided to take lemon-lime Gatorade instead, but absolutely insisted on pouring into a thermos.  When I asked why, she said that all her friends drank their drinks in cool containers like that, and she wanted to do likewise.  She chose to take the thermos we purchased the one time we took her on an overnight cruise, so I suspect she will be the only child at school drinking her drink from a Royal Caribbean insulated tumbler.

Mark finally managed to cheer her up before they left, but we were definitely having a Monday morning on Friday!

Kaylas Spring School Picture (Age 9)

Have a great day and weekend everyone!

Nancy

Growing Up


Good morning everyone!

It’s pretty surprising, but when I woke up this morning, I realized that we had reached Thursday, with an excellent chance of reaching Friday tomorrow.  This week is flying by! 

The older I get, the quicker time passes.  Only yesterday Kayla was 3, and I was reading her a bedtime story, and now she is a beautiful young lady of 9!

Bed Time Story when Kayla was three

Kayla's Spring School Picture (Age 9)

That’s quite a change in just 6 short years! 

As she grows, I enjoy seeing her personality develop, and, in spite of any small mistakes she makes along the way, I love the beautiful sweet intelligent person that she is growing up to be.  (Of course, we haven’t hit the teen years, yet, either.  I have heard through friends that the reasons children are so sweet in their elementary school years is to give the parents enough memories to allow the children to survive their teens.) 

To give you an idea of the difference in maturity, one Saturday afternoon when Kayla was five, Mark was taking a nap in our bedroom while I was doing some chores in the great room and Kayla was (supposed) to be either napping or playing in her bedroom.  Suddenly, a piercing wail/scream came out of her bedroom.  I rushed in to find her holding her hand, crying at the top of  her lungs.  Even though I am not a doctor, it was quickly apparent what was wrong – a staple was pressed into the bottom part of her hand.   After some pleading, chiding and exhortation on my part, she finally allowed me to take her hand and pull out the staple.  Being a rational human being, I asked her how the staple came to be in her hand, assuming that it had to have been an accident.  Well, I was wrong – she told me she had decided to staple her hand to see what it felt like.  She certainly found out!  It was actually a brilliant, if accidental, diversionary tactic on her part, since due to the distractions involved in removing the staple, it took me another four or five minutes to realize that the stapler had been in her bedroom originally so that she could staple pictures onto her wall. 

Now, at age 9, the stories (for the most part) involve little things she says, or does.  For example, this year Kayla has blossomed into an avid reader.  She has read tons of books for school, and has over 100 Accelerated Reader points for the year!  She also has two or three books at home she is working on.  Now those of you who grew up in the same house with me will understand why I find this next so amusing – when she is really concentrating on what she is reading, she doesn’t hear or notice when someone is speaking to her.  I can remember coming home from high school, starting to read, and then suddenly realizing that my youngest sister had been speaking to me for about five minutes without my having heard anything! 

Last night, we ate on trays.  (I know, I know, it’s not the best way to eat supper, but we had choir practice at church and it was already 8 by the time we sat down to eat, so trays it was!)  I forgot to put a fork on her tray, and rather than calling out to me to bring her one, she put her tray down and started to go into the kitchen to get her own.  I apologized for neglecting to place a fork on her tray, and she veered off course to come around to me, give me a big hug and say, “Mom, it’s okay; it’s nobody’s fault, you just forgot!” 

Then, this morning, I called to her that it was time to get up and on the second call, I heard a voice from her bedroom calling cheerfully to me, “Mom, I need help.”  I went in to look, and somehow she had managed to roll herself tightly into her top blanket during the night and needed someone to pull the bottom of the blanket out from under her.  She looked rather like a large caterpillar in a purple cocoon.  She thought so too, because when I asked her how she had gotten wound up in her covers like that she answered with a bright smile and laugh, “I don’t know, but I must have  thought I was a butterfly!” 

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Reflections from the other side of 46


Reflections from the other side of 46:

  • Do not salt home-made fries without wearing your glasses, or you won’t be able to see  the salt coming out of the shaker. 
  • Do pay attention to what you are doing in the kitchen; placing your hand on a burner that is still hot will cause extreme pain.
  • The floor keeps getting farther and farther away.
  • The print on books and menus keeps getting smaller and smaller.
  • My glasses keep getting more and more expensive.
  • Light bulbs are not as bright as they used to be. 
  • Your joints suddenly acquire a strange resemblance to Rice Krispies.  (Snap, crackle, pop!)
  • I thought I’d finished with exceptional mood swings and acne once I passed my teens.
  • It is NOT unreasonable to have the air conditioner on when the outside temperature is below 30!
  • An “all-nighter” now  is not.
  •  They say, “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.”  I’m not convinced.
  • Don’t say, “It could be worse.”  It usually gets there before it gets better.
  • Experience is the best teacher, but not always the most comfortable one.  
  • Love grows bigger, better, deeper and wider each year.
  • So do your relationships.
  • Your sense of humor gets better, too.
  • And always, no matter what age you’re at, “these three things remain:  faith, hope and love.  And the greatest of these is love.”

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy