Neighborhood mom

It's Monday morning, so you know what that means...time to load up my car with neighborhood boys and take them to golf. Just in case you were jealous that I am getting to be home this summer, sleeping in and hanging out, while you're going to work...don't be. At 7:00 this morning, I had just gotten out of the shower and was rummaging in the kitchen for something when the doorbell rang. Did I forget to say I was only in my panties and bra? I knew it was a little boy (golf doesn't start til 8:00...what the heck is he doing here so early!!!), so I yelled "DON'T get the door!" In response I heard Hillary saying "Oh, hi. Come on in." All I can say is being too busy to put away your clean laundry can be a blessing at times. I managed to grab a tshirt and pair of jeans from the laundry room and wiggle them on before he came around the kitchen wall. Whew! He went downstairs to make himself at home til we were ready.
Forty five minutes later, I am driving through town with my backseat full of cologne, hats, big feet, and boy bragging. The conversation ranged from "My mom makes me wear a cup to play baseball now" to "My church is right up here. I want to get baptized, but I'm afraid I'll drown."
These boys seem very at ease with me. And as much as I complain sometimes...I'm glad. I know that God put me here...in this house...in this neighborhood...in this car...for a reason. He did it for my son, and the other sons who live on our street. This is an important time of growing and transformation, and I have the opportunity to help shape lives and attitudes. So I keep my fridge full of snacks, put up with stray bikes and dogs in my yard, try to ignore the smell of boys in my basement, and give lots of attention.

"Let the children alone, don't prevent them from coming to me. God's kingdom is made up of people like these." Matthew 19:14 (The Message)

Missing

Have you noticed that something has been missing from my blogs this week? That something (or someone) is Hillary. She's been gone to church camp. Today is the day! They're coming home.

I remember the first time she went to camp. She was 8 years old...and I didn't miss her at all. That's because I went with her! As a worker.

The next few years, I didn't follow her to camp, but I did fuss and fiddle over preparing her. I washed all her clothes, made elaborate lists of every possible thing she might need, and packed her in coordinating outfits sealed in large ziploc bags and labeled day by day. (I know...it's a sickness) But this year, I hardly did anything. She packed herself (literally - she showed me how she could fit in her suitcase. Good thing the church doesn't charge per pound to haul the luggage!) She was excited...and I was excited for her. Even though I knew I would miss her being here, I was happy she was getting to go. I wasn't worried about her safety. I wasn't moping about her absence. It was nice...for me AND for her.

She gave me a huge hug when she got on the bus, and waved out the window as they drove away. All cell phones were confiscated and held by the leaders when they actually got there, so I knew I wouldn't get to talk to her every day. But I did get a text message Monday night. "Camp is great! I miss you guys!"

The week passed, like it always tends to do. And Parker got to feel like an only child for a few days. And now it's Friday and Hillary just called. Even though I haven't been sad this week, I felt a surge of pure joy in my heart when I heard her voice. She was so happy and full of stories. She took 5 tapes full of video. We will relive camp together when she gets home.

Is this what it's like to let your child go? When she goes to college or gets married or moves across the country to act, sing, dance, or take pictures will I so easily let her pack herself and not dissolve into tears as she drives away, waving out the window? I hope so. I want to let her fly...free from guilt...and live her life with her through her stories. I want to feel joy when I hear her voice, without being sad in between times. I want to learn to miss her without something missing in my own life.

I'll let you know how it goes!

Five dollars worth of fun

Parker has been scheming lately. He's trying to find ways to make money. He tried to sell his bike to his friend...but that didn't work. So he asked me if there was anything around the house he could do to earn extra money. (He does get an allowance, but apparently it's not enough.) I told him my car needed to be cleaned inside and out. He agreed and the fee was set at five dollars. This morning he got up, looked out the window, and said, "Yup. Perfect day for washing the car!"

Tom Sawyer always manages to get his friends to help with chores. Maybe he'll be a manager someday.

Parker is very thourough...just like his dad. I personally couldn't care less if there was dirt between the car's toes. But he made sure to get in all the cracks of all four tires.

And there it is. The tongue. It always comes out during times of intense concentration.

And the Master of Clean declares, "That was an easy five dollars!"

Golf

I LOVE being at home for the summer. It means I can do things like take Parker and his next-door friend to the golf clinic at the country club on Monday mornings. This week was their first time. They were excited enough to set their own alarm, get themselves up and dressed, and make sure their clubs were at the front door, waiting. When Nate rang the doorbell and I ushered him in, I could smell the trail of cologne and his hair was slicked down. A dapper guy with a glint in his eye. Parker came up the stairs with his clubs and the two immediately started inspecting the dirt in the cracks of the putter, and comparing clubs. Parker had swiped two from his dad's bag and slid the biggest driver into his bag, saying with that swagger guys get, "When you can't swing very hard...that's when you let the big dog hunt." A Yancey-ism if I ever heard one. Nate looked impressed. Then he looked at me and said, "My mom made me bring PRETZELS in my bag!" His face was indignant. "I told her...MOM, professional golfers do NOT have PRETZELS in their bag!"

We loaded up and headed out. When we got there, the lot was filled with kids of all ages and golf bags of all sizes. Parker said, "I'm nervous." I registered the boys, while they hung back at the edge of the crowd. But soon, they spotted a couple of other guys they knew and they were off.

I left two nervous boys...I picked up two confident golfers. They strode to the car, swinging their clubs into the trunk with little effort, talking about how great they had done that day. (And...I found out there was a GIRL in their group! I'm sure that made them play all the better!) When we got home, the boys graciously posed for me.

Then they spent another hour walking around my yard, hitting golf balls around. I didn't mind...because at least they weren't shooting bottle rockets into the siding (yes...there is a story there!). We may get some gentleman golfers yet.

Best Man

I went to a wedding yesterday. It was a very sweet event with lots of unique, personal touches. The girls were dressed in simple summer dresses in citrus colors, and the guys wore light suits with sandals. Lemons and limes were tucked among daisies to decorate the church. And the bride wore a simple, lacy, spaghetti strap dress down the aisle to meet her groom...who cried as soon as he saw her. He sang a song to her (in a scratchy, tear-streaked voice) and she put her forehead to his and then joined in to sing with him. I couldn't help but think that, as fast as time has flown so far, it could be our turn to plan a wedding in just a few short years. And I thought about Hillary's personality and imagined a fun, creative wedding with lots of music...and maybe even some acting thrown in. And there would have to be big black and white photos involved in some way.
But of course, the most important thing at the wedding is the man she'll be marrying. And I hope she chooses someone like her dad. Someone who used his break between basketball games to swing by the church where I was helping with an event and surprise me. Someone who says, "hey beautiful!" when I walk into the room on Thursday afternoon in nothing special. Someone who came to the wedding reception where I was helping serve and jumped right in, arranging strawberries on a platter, making lemonade, and lighting candles, even though the bride's mom was my friend, not his, and he wasn't required to help. And he didn't even grumble about it. A man who exudes calm strength and puts others first. A man who gives strong hugs and gentle backrubs.
It won't matter when or how she gets married, as long as she finds a man like that.
So even though my husband wasn't even in the wedding yesterday...I think he is definitely the Best Man!

Hold that pose

At the end of a busy, away-from-home day, I decided to unwind on my new front yard swing with my coffee and a good book. The kids followed me and climbed into the hammock. My heart immediately screamed "Get the camera!" But my head said, "Don't you ever get tired of living your life through your camera lens? Can't you just sit and enjoy the moment without documenting it?" So I sipped, and I read.

The kids laughed and jostled and swung.

I resisited.

They fell out of the hammock and onto the ground in a heap like a couple of puppies. I haven't seen them play like this since they were little.

Still I sat.

They got back in the hammock with a new plan to see how high they could swing while lying sideways.

And I gave up...I gave in...I said, "Hold that pose!" And I ran in the house and grabbed my camera while the blood ran to the top of their heads.

So much for just enjoying the moment. But this way I get to re-live it...and share it!

Alone

One of the perks of your children getting older is the surprise spurts of "alone" time. It's not really planned...it's just suddenly laid upon you like a gift on a Tuesday afternoon. So today, when my husband went to teach summer school, and my daughter drove herself to a church youth activity, and my son got an invitation to spend the day and night with his friend, I found myself with several empty hours.
What to do?
There are so many things on my imaginary "list" for moments like this, that I almost get paralyzed with indecision. Should I take a walk...lie in the hammock and read a book...take a long bath...call someone on the phone and have an actual non-interrupted conversation...drive to the city and browse the stores I want to go to that my family hates...surf the internet...grab my camera and experiment....write...
Then my Demon of Practicality cuts in. I could always clean out a closet...scrutinize the budget (yet again) to find a few more pennies...get ALL the laundry done...get ahead by planning next week's meals and making a grocery list. My Guilt says "if you get it all done while they're not here, you can spend more time with them when they get back."
So what did I do?
Actually, a little of both worlds. I paid a couple of bills, threw in a load of laundry, enjoyed a silent cup of coffee on my back porch swing, and spent some wonderfully frivolous time reading other people's blogs and puttering with my camera.
Tell me...what would you do?

Funkytown

My family just HATES long car rides. When the kids were little, they usually fell asleep as soon as we took off and slept most of the way. And they were strapped into their car seats, which created a natural space boundary between them, keeping them from fighting over which side of the back seat someone's pinky was on. As they got older, a kind of natural seat selection came about. Parker always sat behind Yancey, and Hillary sat behind me. Our legs were in proportion (Yancey long and Parker short...Hillary long and me short). Now that BOTH kids are daddy-long-legs, the fight over who gets to sit behind mom is on. I scoot the seat up as far as it will go (and my knees are still not quite touching the dashboard). With all those arms and legs crammed in the car, it's like riding with a family of spiders. Cranky spiders.

So to pass the time, I become Mama DJ...a human juke box...playing various songs from various cds...a little something for everyone. And when this becomes boring, we sing. When I say we, I mean me and the kids. 007 is usually stone-faced and silent...reflective-sunglass-covered eyes never wavering from the road ahead...taking every car that passes us as a personal challenge...determined to beat our own best time for this trip...while the kids and I sing at the top of our lungs, dancing and making silly pantomines of the words. Because we love him, we try to include him...by getting close to his face and making weird faces, or squeezing the sides of his lips to make him "sing". This is great fun for us, but his steely concentration is never broken...which of course makes us laugh even harder. It's kind of like playing with a toy, or pestering the dog.

Anyway, this weekend, as we traveled "over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go" the kids said, "Mom, let's sing!" At first we tried to sing songs from Disney movies and Broadway musicals. But none of us ever knew all the words and we ended up going "hmm, hm hm...da, da dum." So I popped in the Shrek 2 soundtrack and we belted out song after song. We sang about being "accidentally in love" and how "people just ain't no good". And then, the familiar techno-beat intro of Funkytown...a song special to the three of us. You see, about 4 years ago, when we knew we were leaving our familiar town for foreign territory...moving from the only place our kids had ever known to a place we had never even known existed...we were a little sad. It was summertime...our stuff was in boxes...and my husband was away for a week at a basketball camp. I had to do something. So I played Funkytown over and over...the kids and I memorized the words...and made up a dance routine. "Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me..." It was cute and choreographed. And it made us laugh. And it eased the pain.
So even though it's now "home" and we've grown to love it. This town will always be a little "Funky".
Sing it with me now..."Won't you take me to....Funkytooooowwnn!"

Hello. My name is Fonda, and I am a coke-a-holic.

My family knows of my obsession and loves to tease me about it. I started drinking coffee a few years ago, thinking that I could replace a sugar addiction with a caffeine addiction...So now I drink coffee AND coke. Anyway, when I got home from bible study last night, I found this in the fridge.

In case you can't read that last line..."PS this is the last coke." Sweet gesture....or self preservation? Hmmm.....

Name that tune

Our family is pretty muscial. Both the kids are in band and choir, Hillary plays piano, I occasionally sing in church...even my husband likes to listen to music. But as much as we love it, we sometimes get a song wrong.
The other day Parker was telling us about having to watch "The Sound of Music" at school. He couldn't think of the name of his favorite song on the show. He sang a few lines of it and Hillary and I said, "Oh, that's Edelweiss." And we were all trying to sing it. I couldn't understand why my husband looked so put out. I asked, "What's wrong, don't you like that song?" To which he replied huffily, "Why the heck are they singing those kinds of songs at school?" What? Then he went on, "Any song about an anal vice can't be good. What is an anal vice anyway? It sounds painful." We all cracked up, and now, sometimes out of the blue, one of us will just start singing, "Aaaanal Viiiiiiice..."
But I can't laugh too hard. It took me years to figure out that the song Secret Agent Man wasn't trying to make some kind of racial slur. I thought they were singing, "Secret Asian Man." I couldn't figure out why the man would want to keep his ethnicity a secret.
Anybody up for some karoke?

Just for fun

What girls do for fun...














What boys do for fun...

Old School

My kids are fascinated by stories from our younger days. When Hillary was little, she would say, "Tell me a stowy about when you were a kid." (She sucked her thumb so she had a buck-tooth lisp!) I've always been hesitant...not wanting to put my kids through the dreaded "back when I was young.." stories that make most people roll their eyes and turn off their ears. But my husband LOVES talking about the past. Especially his athletic prowess. When the Time Train leaves for memory lane, he's the first one on it. I usually start singing "Glory Days" and leave the room, but the kids just eat it up. Parker has really gotten interested as he's come into adolescence. When he plays basketball, he wants to know if Dad played the same position...what his number was...if he did this drill or that drill in practice. And when he found Yancy's high school letterman jacket in the basement closet, he wore it to school every day. Even though it wasn't Parker's school colors and the sleeves hung down a little too far.

I've been promising Parker for a couple of weeks now that we would dig out the old yearbooks and he could look through them. So last night, my husband pulled out the storage tub in the back of the basement, under a whole stack of other things and the two of them pored over the year books. Yancy told stories about this boy and that girl, this teacher and that coach. Parker sat rapt with attention. They were in their own little world. After reliving 1989-91, I'd had enough. I went to bed. Leaving my boys to make their own memories by sharing memories.

Happy Anniversary to Us!

Two kids and one dog

Thirteen years of college between us

Six houses

Two towns

Making love and making war

Marriage counseling

Eight family vacations

One anniversary trip to Mexico

Six "our songs"

Job changes and church changes

Laughs, tears, bouts of depression

Good times

Bad decisions

A million photographs

Fifteen years

So far, so good....

Food for thought

These were my thoughts while I was cleaning out the fridge...a job long overdue.

Top shelf...moldy cheese and spilled hummingbird food..."Why do we have so much cheese?"

"Those hummingbirds eat better than we do. It's funny how my husband can't tell when the trash can is overflowing, but let the hummingbird feeder get below half full and he's in the kitchen, cooking up his special recipe. He even told me the other day that my store bought red water wasn't good enough and the birds didn't even like it. Oh well, at least my family won't starve if anything ever happens to me. They'll get by on taco salad and hummingbird nectar."

Second shelf...a motley crew of bowls full of leftovers in various stages of decomposition..."Why do I bother? Every night I carefully save what's left of dinner, just so it can sit in my fridge and spoil. Then I wash out the stinky bowl and start all over again."

Bottom drawer...3rd bag of half used, wilted, slimy salad stuff...and 27 little packets of ketchup, mustard, and sweet and sour sauce from fast food restaurants. Apparently I'm afraid we may run out of ketchup at some crucial time, and at least I'll have enough packets for us all to get one dot of condoment each. Although, it's an irrational fear considering the two half full and one unopened bottles of ketchup in the door.

"Four packs of cream cheese?"

"When did this happen? This is so nasty. I turn my back for 9 measly months and the whole place goes to...Oh...my...gosh...this dressing expired in November of '07."

Perfect! Now I just need to go shopping!

Parker

Parker is so like his dad sometimes. That's so great for me...and maybe not so great for him? I've been told I can be a little high-maintenence in the emotion department (Yancey calls me "Kate" from Jon and Kate plus 8). And I guess I do get bossy occasionally and tend to smack those I love when I get a burst of affection for them. Kate calls them 'love taps'.
Anyway, today was one of those days where I was just down. No particular reason...I just was. Parker and I tried to get our hair cut this morning, but the hair lady had an emergency and ran out of her shop. So I told the secretary I'd reschedule and we left. Then Hillary and I went to my friend Angie's house to have lunch with her and her two girls. That cheered me up somewhat. The girls made me laugh, and Angie sent me home with flowers to plant and strawberries to eat.
But I couldn't shake the melancholy. So I tried to cleaning something. I re-organized my already organized laundry room, and cleaned out my cookbook shelf. My sensitive son knew right away what was happening and jumped right in to help by spot-cleaning the carpet. I looked in the living room to find him playing with legos and listening to America (the 60's band) in the middle of up-ended bar stools. He has an unconventional method of spraying the stain, applying paper towels, then weighing them down with a stool for 30 min. Apparently he has tried varying the time, because he picked up one stool and said, "30 min...perfect." And I have to admit, the stain was gone. Then he did a little cha-cha dance which made me laugh.
By this point my cleaning urge was petering out and I wanted to go to the store for more storage bins and some ice cream. He left his legos in a pile and went with me. He never complained, even when I was on the phone through Wal-Mart and Dollar General, griping about how this town never has anything I need. He followed me through the grocery store while I took 10 min choosing which vanilla ice cream to buy.
After we got home, I started thinking about supper. I had meat ready for the grill...but no husband. I grumblingly grabbed the charcoal, but Parker said, "Here, I know how to do it" and took over. He knew where all Yancy's things were kept. He doused the stuff in lighter fluid and tossed in a match. I was impressed. He was nonchalant.
This easy calmness...this being in the moment...this "I can handle it" attitude is what I love about my husband. And I love seeing it in my son. I know I'm lucky to have them both. And someday, Parker is going to make some high-strung, bossy, overachiever an awesome husband.

Sharing Shoes

Hillary and I went shopping a few days ago. We both ended up with new dresses. Hers is green and short and SO cute. Mine is black and more mature looking. (Actually, Hillary tried it on first and discarded it. I got it on the rebound!) Being the avid "What Not to Wear" watcher that I am, I decided to try something different and get a pair of cute red shoes to wear with it. I know...black and red...not exactly a stretch, but it is for me.

Anyway, as I was getting ready for church this morning (planning to wear my new dress and shoes), Hillary breezed into my room and said, "So, are you wearing the red shoes today, or am I?" I informed her I was planning on it. She headed for my closet.

"These would look good with your dress."

Too old lady looking.

She went to her room and came back with these. She held them up with a hopeful raising of the eyebrows.

I reminded her I'm 32 not 23.

After she brought me a pair of flip-flops, I gave up. She obviously wanted the red shoes more than I did. I found a pair of plain black heels in her closet and she happily put my red shoes on her feet.

She may not follow in my footsteps...but she'll always wear my shoes!