Heather turned three a couple of weeks ago. She spent the next night with us so her Momma and Daddy could celebrate their anniversary–which is the same day as her birthday. It was her first night away from both parents at the same time, so we lived the wild life, then I snuck her to sleep as she kept emphatically saying, “I will sit UP.” Anyway–photos below from her party with us and the one we had for family this weekend.

As you can tell from these photos. . .nobody loves Heather. My wish for EVERY three year old child is that they are all as unloved as she.

From what I’ve gathered, they laid the back down (our swing can turn into a bed. . .it’s cool) and read books and discussed how they need to do that together more often. . .they had fun. Together. And that is good. My kids get along pretty well for siblings–they love each other–they also know how to push each others’ buttons. The older they get, the more that happens.

But today, they laid plans to spend more time together–and that is always a good thing.

A bunch o' Webelos

Thad's new bike in action

Um. . .help, please.

A party. . .

Original Post written February 13, 2010–all photos taken the same day
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Just heard from the living room.

She is now employing ME to come and time her–seriously–because Thad messed up.

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All of this occurred just hours before The Great Concrete Dog Debacle of 2010. . .but that’s another story for another day. And this small slice of preserved conversation is why I should be blogging more. . .so these days are not ground to fine, powdery dust under the merciless marching soles of time. . .

(If you click on the image, you can read the thought processes in Victoria’s burgeoning scientific mind. Of course this IS the child that “performed” her first experiment at the age of 10 months or so while dropping textured rubber rings from different angles, heights, and speeds into a large Tupperware bowl filled with water, and also began sorting “treasures” into groups by color, size, and shape at the age of 18 months. Just sayin’.)

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been in Jr. High for 20 years.

EUREKA!!!

THAT’S IT!!!!

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a THOUSAND times out of the mouths of my students. . .”I’m boooooooorrrrrrrrred,” they whine as they lie as supine as one can lie in a desk/chair combo–or droop like tulips over the fake wood-grained veneer of their writing surface.

I must be so tired because I am bored. . .that’s it, I’m tellin’ ya. Mystery solved.

“Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” George Santayana

It try to bring it home to the kids by using examples with which they are familiar, “If you have the right shoes, or the right jeans, or the right hair, or live in the right neighborhood, or have the right friends, then you have status in our school. If you are a jock or an emo or a prep or a gangster. . .then you can look down on the ‘wanna-be’s or the nerds or whomever isn’t a part of your exclusive group.” Some of them get it–most of them don’t. But all of them understand that what happened was a bad, bad thing.

This video will be used as a “hook” to introduce the novels from which our students can choose–different stories, but all the same. Intolerance, war, hatred, but ultimately–stories about humanity.
(Click the link below to view the video.)

Holocaust Novel Unit.

I just left Thad in his bed with his rainforest noises on and a “dogpile” of cute stuffed animals beside him–a Webkinz dog, a Webkinz tree frog, two Webkinz penguins, a blue-eyed sea turtle, and Curious George. He likes for me to read to him (I sit in the hallway so both kids can hear me–their doors face each other) and also do what we call “Five Good Things.” We tell each other five good things about our day. This is something I’ve only done with Thad. It began one night when he was having a hard time, so I told him when we are sad, we need to list good things to remember that we are happy most of the time–even on bad days. Sometimes I have to help him out a little bit–or a lot. I’ve had more practice at learning how to “count my blessings.” Hopefully he will pass this little exercise on to one of his kiddos one day–or at least continue it himself.

Sometimes there are unusual things–like him getting a new bike today. He has NEVER had a new bike. And any ride-able item he’s owned (except for his Big Wheel which he outgrew five years ago) has either been handed down or plucked from the “take for free” pile on a neighbor’s curb. The bike he’s been riding was not only too short but also popped a tire the other night–it’s previous owner now being a freshman in high school, I’m sure the bike had already been ridden enough. He has never complained. . .but he is now the proud owner of a blue bike with enough gears to boggle the mind. He can’t wait to learn to shift ‘em.

Two bikes ago--another example of one neighbor's trash is the other neighbor's bargain.

Sometimes the good things are small surprises like getting a Nutella & Go in his lunch kit. Victoria got one too. If ONE gets a “big ticket” item in their lunch–the other one does as well. Our “big ticket” items also include fortune cookies from time to time. It’s the little things, you know. And that is why Victoria ALSO got croutons for her crunchy lunch item. Today was a special day for her–District Science Fair judging. We go tomorrow at 10:00 to see if she made regionals.

Sometimes Thad’s five good things are simple. “I’m home.” “I’m in my warm bed.” “You are scratching my back.” Again–little things, but oh so important.

His list tonight was:

5. I found the secret artifacts in my Indiana Jones “Top Secret” boxes (He’s had the boxes since he turned seven–they came with some action figures. The boxes look like tiny props, when REALLY there is a bag tucked inside with a “secret artifact.” His buddy, Thomas, told him about it earlier this week, and he “happened” across the boxes this morning while brushing his teeth. Hmmm. . .either way, he was thrilled, and they ARE cool artifacts.)

4. It’s Friday. (VERY important.)

3. I got Nutella and bread sticks in my lunch today.

2. I got a new bike.

1. We got to have bar-be-cue for supper tonight. (We get our bar-be-cue from the gas station at FM 362 and Hwy 290. Just wipe that look RIGHT off your face. . .gas station bar-be-cue is THE BEST, and County Line’s is the best of the best of gas stations. For reals. This one also made my list.)

MY list was:

5. I got to take you and sister to school this morning. (This was on his original list, but he deferred to the bar-be-cue when I mentioned it in mine.)

4. I made another reading guide today.

3. I got an e-mail from my friend, MaryLinda. (Hi, MaryLinda.)

2. We got to have bar-be-cue for dinner.

1. I get to be with you and Daddy and sister all weekend.

There are nights I don’t feel like reading or doing Five Good Things. I want to go find some nice black hole that is shaped like my bed and crawl into it. But I try to AT LEAST do the good things–I know my days of Thad wanting me to lie in his bed and chat quietly before going to sleep are numbered. The other morning between sleeping and waking, I had this dream/image/vision/premonition in which I heard his voice had changed. It was no longer the little boy voice I hear now–but a teenaged boy voice. Quite honestly, it scared me. It was NOT something I was happy to think about. But it’s a reminder that my days as the Number One Girl in his life are, indeed, numbered–and dwindling.

2009. . .really??? Where did the time go???

Meanwhile, my regular Friday night date went and climbed into the black hole of a bed of ours at 8:15. I think I will go and join him.

When I woke up again, I found her in front of the computer working on a yearbook spread with her algebra and English homework completed. Yes–she is THAT child. PLUS, she had already bemoaned the fact that she would miss school today. “I don’t WANT to miss school. We are Doing Things, and I will miss Them.” There were two reasons she relented. One: She felt crummy. Two: She has made it to the district science fair again this year and judging is tomorrow. She’d rather miss Things today than miss explaining her project tomorrow afternoon.

In an effort to keep her still–I proposed a movie–Sense and Sensibility. Now from the time she was a tiny thing, she has asked about a million and two questions during a movie–DRIVES HER DADDY NUTS!!! When we first showed her and Thad The Lord of the Rings trilogy–we set her up with a notebook and pen to write down questions. I promised her we would stop every so often so that I could answer them.

It was the same today–it’s a two hour movie (1995 version with Hugh Grant, Alan Rickman, etc.), but it took us a little over three hours to watch it. Seriously. There was that much stopping and starting and rewinding and explaining and . . .you get the picture. ESPECIALLY since this is my analytical, pragmatic, logical 13 1/2 year old who finds the class system of 17th century England ridiculous. The notion of a woman not being able to make her own way in the world–having to marry for money and station, or keep an engagement of marriage that you gave or accepted rashly–having to hide one’s true feelings and speak in riddles, well, it was beyond her.

Maybe one day she will, instead, watch the film (or read the book) and recognize the forward thinking of one Jane Austen–how she shows that even in that time period SOME girls wished for more: an education, a job, a marriage filled with love rather than money or convenience alone. As the mother of a girl who tends to shake off the entrapments of a 2012 teenager, I think Victoria will some day find she has more in common with this genre than she thinks.

Meanwhile–I got to spend the afternoon with her, and talk about how things have changed and how things have not. . .I got to tell her (again) that even if she decides on the way down the aisle hanging on to her Daddy’s arm that she CANNOT marry the man waiting at the front for her–she can stop it all. AND I got to watch a GREAT movie.

And one of my OTHER favorite scenes. . .

A little over a week ago I saw a calf that was merely an hour or two old. It was standing for the first time. Momma cow stood back a little to give the baby some room AND some motivation–what need has a baby to stand up and walk if Momma is right there? I recognized this event as I was hurtling past–so I stopped and backed up and took a moment to watch. The baby got its wobbly hind legs organized, then proceeded to come up onto one front leg at a time–listing a little with the effort. It was a snow white calf–so white it was glowing–and white calves don’t stay that way for long. It sort of half walked, half stumbled over to its Momma–they touched noses–the baby leaned against her neck and shoulder. I relayed this word for word to my friend, Carolyn, (she sent me a blue tooth, so I had BOTH hands firmly on the wheel) as I had nearly scared her to death with my exclamation of joy over realizing that I was witnessing an event!

There are other times I am driving home after dark. I may have my windows down, or the car vents open to let it some cool, night air. The dew has fallen, and if it weren’t pitch black dark, I would see a mist hovering over the field. There is a scent of my childhood that comes into the windows. It is the smell of damp, dead grass mixed with green clover and cattle–manure, sweat, fur. It’s not necessarily something you’d bottle and sell, but it calls me home. Not to the home where I’m physically headed, but to the one where I started.

I was talking to an older gentleman at church one Sunday a while ago and told him we were “going home.” He said, “No. Your home is here with your husband and children.” It was an admonition of sorts–he said it remind me of where my heart should be. I get that. I’ve often said that home is where Tony is. I am, after all, the one who hied off to the big, ‘ole city of Houston to be with the man. But I didn’t need to be reminded. I also didn’t feel like explaining myself. I just smiled and nodded and moved on to my pew. And I thought about where home really is. Yes–home is where my husband is, it’s where we live and raise our children. But I’ve had MANY homes; some where I lived for years; some where I lived for a few months; some where I’ve owned or rented a dwelling; some where I have been a visitor but am treated like family; some where I have worked or gone to camp or school; some where I have felt a deep attachment after being there only once; and One Home that I’ve never seen with my eyes but know with my heart.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster. ~Isaac Asimov

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn’t we? ~Terri Guillemets

The best time for planning a book is while you’re doing the dishes. ~Agatha Christie

How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live. ~Henry David Thoreau, Journal, 19 August 1851

I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions. ~James Michener

Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable. ~Francis Bacon
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I have not written in a long time. From December of 2008 to spring of 2010, I set upon a year+ of writing to my friend. It was a wonderful year of letters flying to and fro on real paper with real stamps. It was wonderful.

I used to write here too–and it was good for me to do it.

There are things that make me feel better. Reading, writing, long walks–and those, for some reason, are the things I don’t take the time to do. That should be remedied. . .and it can only be remedied by me. So. Here is my beginning. (And thank you Stephanie and Sandy for the inspiration to do so.)