Help Wanted...or not

Hillary is looking for a job. It will be her first "real" job. Just for the summer. She has done a little babysitting, but nothing that has required her to fill out applications. Last week she went around to all the banks in town and asked for apps, then brought them home to fill out. I tried to stay out of it (you know, let her do it on her own) but she kept asking questions like "What's my social security number?" So I ended up sitting down with her. By the fourth one, she kind of had the hang of it.
It's been a week, and we've heard nothing, so we decided to broaden our horizons. (We're leaving fast food til last) I remembered that we have a daycare center, and thought that would be perfect for her. No late nights or weekends, and she's great with kids. She agreed but seemed reluctant to go talk to them. She put it off as long as she could..."I need to take a shower and get ready. I need to eat. Oh, right now? I should go now?" I handed her the car keys.
I wanted to go with her. I wanted to hold her hand, march her in there and say, "My daughter is great and you would be lucky to have her! Hire her now before someone else snatches her up!"
But I didn't.
She will have to know how to do this someday, and she needs to be able to practice while she's still in the security of my nest. So I just waved as she backed out of the driveway...and kept my cell phone in my hand just in case she needed me. And she did...but only for one phone number for a reference. She did great. Just like I knew she would. And without any 'help' from me.
For Sale: Mother who is no longer needed. Slightly used, but in good condition. Must see to appreciate.

Making the cut

My men reached a new milestone this week. Yancey taught Parker how to mow. They were both excited about it. My husband took it very seriously...giving Parker a thourough tutorial before ever starting the mower. He pointed out each button and lever (even the ones Parker was never supposed to use), explained step-by-step how to start, run, pause, raise blades, lower blades, stop, and dismount the mower. Then, on went the protective earphones and safety glasses...and off went Parker.

He was extremely conscientious...making wide, slow circles around and around our house...stopping, raising the blade, putting on the emergency brake, and carefully climbing off the mower every time he saw a scrap of trash or large stick. He placed it in the bucket my husband has roped and duct taped to the back of the mower, then climbed back on, released the brake, lowered the blades and continued to the next obstacle.

Apparently, my husband was impressed. All evening he kept telling me how well Parker did. He even called his dad to brag. And while I was proud of Parker too (as evidenced by the way I kept following him around the yard taking pictures) I think I was even prouder of my husband. He did so great showing Parker what to do. He explained things patiently and didn't point out the three sprigs of grass Parker accidentally missed. He weed-eated while Parker mowed instead of sitting in the lawn chair never taking his eyes off his beloved mower. I guess he's learned some things since he taught Hillary to mow three years ago. (Sorry, Hillary....hazard of being first born). So now my son is a champion mower, and my husband is a champion father. In my eyes...they both make the cut!

Run mama....run!

While I've never really had to worry about my weight too much, I still try to be healthy. I eat a variety of foods, as close to natural as I can, and try to stay active. Walking is my excercise of choice. But after watching my daughter run in track shorts for the last few weeks, I've become dissatisfied with my short white legs and flabby thighs. I want looooong, toned beautiful legs like hers. I decided I would take up running.
So last night, after supper, I suggested she and I run around the mile long circle road we live on. She (being her optimistic, happy self) readily agreed. Off we went.
Twenty steps later I wheezed, "My butt hurts!" "What do you mean?" she asked. "All this running is jarring my butt cheeks!" I replied. "Well, maybe if you stop hopping like that..." she suggested. You know, I've heard of women who have to bind their breasts when they work out. Maybe I should bind my butt. My breasts, unfortunately, weren't even rippling.
She stopped and took a minute to show me correct form.
Twenty more steps and "I'm going to pee my pants." "No you're not." "Yes I am! My bladder is not 16! I've pushed out two babies!" No sound from her as she has no oxygen due to the sidesplitting laughter. At this point I'm surprised she's still running and not rolling on the ground.
I'm no fool, I know when to quit. We slowed and walked the rest of the way. When I could feel my feet again and my hands stopped swelling, we enjoyed the breeze in the trees and had a nice mother-daughter converstation about all things friend and boy.
When we got home, my husband (who 'couldn't' go due to his gout flaring up....like we haven't all used that excuse) said, "Did you have a nice walk?" I just said smugly, "I ran." He didn't look impressed.
Maybe I'll take up yoga instead.

I am in love with books. I'm kinda addicted. I don't know how old I was when I learned, but I can't remember not knowing how. I was that kid in class who rushed through her work so she could whip out her book and read. I was the big sister who conned my little sister into washing, rinsing, AND drying the dishes so my hands would be free to hold the book I was reading out loud to her. To this day, I can't enter a book store without buying something.
Just as my preacher's wife mother jokes that she thought she would have Christian babies...I just knew I would have readers. I loved it...they would love it. I would read to them in the womb, in the crib, in my bed at night. And they would crave words like I do. And in the beginning it worked. Hillary would close herself into her bedroom at two years old and pore over her picture books for an hour. She learned to read without any help from me.
Then Parker came along. He loved being read to... but he'd rather crash his toy cars than "pretend read" Goodnight Moon to me. When he got to Kindergarten, we had to study his letters and sounds at night. In first grade, he fell further behind. At the end of the year, his teacher seemed worried. I was taking a college class at the time on teaching reading...so I tutored him all summer, creating lesson plans using comic books and Lego.com to try to interest him. We instituted "family reading time" where all four of us sat in the living room and read silently from our own books for 20 min every day. Second grade started, and he seemed okay...crisis averted.
Even though the kids grew old enough to read to themselves, I continued to read out loud to them. I just enjoyed the time, sitting together, sharing the story and talking about it. I guess I was doing "book club" before it was trendy! Then I read Jim Trelease's The Read-Aloud Handbook and was thrilled to be given permission by an expert to keep indulging my passion. He says you should read aloud even to your teenagers. (And I do!)
Now that we know about Parker's dyslexia, those reading struggles make sense. The lady who tested him said that his case was moderate, and he would be much further behind if we hadn't exposed him to the stories verbally. Is it pathetic that I felt guilty for doing so much academic intervention in his early years? If I hadn't been such a stubborn reader, maybe we would have caught his dyslexia earlier. I know...crazy...but that's how my mind runs!
Anyway, now Parker enjoys reading by listening to audio books. And I feed my addiction by leading a book club with kids from the youth group at church. When the most faithful "clubbers" turned out to be middle school boys, it hit me that Parker could enjoy our book club even though he didn't like to read. Because he definitely likes to discuss the characters, themes, and nuances of the story. Through some small miracle, it's become a family thing, with me reading the book aloud to Yancy and both kids, and all of us attending the book club together.
For Mother's Day, Parker gave me a book. And not just any book...one he made himself. It was five short paragraphs about memories he has of the two of us. It is sweet and funny, but the line that made me cry was "I remember when you got me to listen to Feather Boy. I didn't think I'd like it, but you turned me to it. Thank you for all the books you've turned me to."
Believe me, Parker...it's been my pleasure.

Playing Possum

Thank God it's Friday. With school almost out, the students are wild and crazy. But not as crazy as their teacher.
We have this really neat program at our elementary called WatchDOGS. It stands for Dads Of Great Students. Each student's dad (or uncle, or grandpa) has the opportunity to spend one whole day at school...just walking around making sure things are safe, doors are locked, etc...spending time in their child's classroom...eating lunch with their child...helping out in the cafeteria or bus line by doing some crowd control. They get official t-shirts and name tags and a schedule to follow. I've had several in my room this year, and I had one today.
He came in with his daughter, and the first thing she said was, "My dad has a possum in his truck!" I made an interested face and said, "Hmmm." The day went on...he sat by her while she took her math test, helped supervise the playground, and was walking to lunch with us when another student asked him about the possum. "Is it alive?" He said it was. He said they had seen it running around the parking lot that morning so he caught it and put it in a box in his truck. Then looked at me and said, "I could bring it in if you want." Of course I want a wild, disease-ridden, pest in my classroom! But I just smiled and said, "You know, we have science right after lunch. That would be a great time."
Then I promptly went into the teacher's lounge and informed the first grade aide (who, for some strange reason I still haven't figured out, teaches science for all of us on Friday) that she would have a special visitor. She was not thrilled. But we must support the children's education.
Mr. Sybert brought in the possum, which was actually pretty cute (it was a baby), and held it in his gloved hand while he walked around the classroom so each student could see. I had warned them with violent bodily harm if their seat came out of their seat while the possum was visiting, and they were remarkably good during the whole thing. "Look! It's just like on Over The Hedge!" Mr. Sybert gently laid the little guy back in the cardboard box and it stayed perfectly still..."It's playing possum," he said. No kidding.
Next week's science lesson...racoons.

The Big Bed

One of my favorite things about getting married was being able to snuggle close and go to sleep, knowing that my husband would be right where I put him when I woke up the next morning. And close is the key word. For the first 7 or 8 years my 6ft 250 pound husband and I slept in a full size bed. It was a hand-me-down from one of our parents, and we had no money, and we really didn't know any better. I put my cedar chest at the foot of the bed, so his feet wouldn't hang off in the air, and we were just fine!
Later, when he was driving 45 miles one way to teach every day and coach basketball every night, and I was working at the university, and Parker was in one school and Hillary in another, we decided something had to give. Our lives needed a change. We both went back to school.
He was getting his master's and I was getting a teaching certification. We both chose accelerated programs that meant going to school year round in order to finish more quickly. We knew it would be tough on our family in the short run, but worth it in the end. But how would we stay connected through it all?
We bought a big bed. A king sized bed. A bed we could all 4 get into on Saturday mornings and spend an hour talking, cuddling, wrestling, watching TV. A bed the kids could sleep in with us when our guilt over being apart overtook us.
And it worked.
We finished our education programs and moved to Cuba where we both got jobs in the same school where the kids attended. For the first few months, we even rode all together. It was heaven! Not only were we in the same town...we were in the same square mile.
Of course, our big bed moved with us. I laugh when I think of the day it was delivered to our old house in Cape, and how it took up most of the small bedroom. I almost cried because it was so big, I thought we would never touch at night and that would be the end of our marriage. (In reality, Yancey just sleeps on MY side of the bed...piling his big leg and all of the covers on top of me). In our new (bigger) house, it fits just fine, and somehow doesn't seem that big after all.
For Christmas, we got a memory foam topper...and suddenly our bed was THE place to be again. Even though the kids are now 16 and 12, they still prefer our bed over their own when it comes to hanging out, watching TV, just relaxing. Parker still comes in during the middle of the night, and sleeps with us til morning, though his visits are getting less and less frequent. And when Hillary comes home from a date, she comes straight to our room (where I'm usually already tucked in, watching TV) and lays beside me and tells me all her stories. Two nights ago, they were both in there, making me laugh with their stories of school and random comments. My normal bed time came and went, but I just couldn't give them up. Yancy kept looking at the clock...realizing that every minute past 10:00 was making his chances slimmer! Finally, they went off to their separate rooms and I turned off the lamp. My husband snuggled close...and I smiled in the dark.

Just the facts

There is no sweet, heartwarming story to go on this post. Just some flat-out, shameless bragging!
Hillary's 4X4 team broke their conference record.

Parker donated his time to work at the youth fundraiser for a special mission project. He served others with a cheerful heart.

Hillary went to prom. Isn't she beautiful!?!

Parker played in a band concert, and sang beautifully with the select choir.

Busy weekend....proud mama!