Uncle Drew

Uncle Drew

"Train up a boy hunting

and you will never have to hunt the boy,"

my Uncle Drew always said.

I remember this fond memory

even though my uncle is dead.

Mark and Drew and the

springer pups

were always in the woods;

hunting deer, dove, or

rabbits, anything they could.

Drew gave Mark his first gun

when Mark was only five.

I think that deep inside the woods,

they both felt

so alive.

None of us quite grasped

the bond that seemed so strong.

Because we had never heard

the sound of the

wood's soft song.

The song of birds and breezes

and animals all around.

The woods, a place where silence

and nature's

music abound.

Drew trained his boy up hunting

just like he said one should.

He never had to hunt his boy,

and you can still find

Mark in the woods.

The Box

It was just a box. An old Christmas box cared with tears and rips. A junk box full of somebody else's memories. Why mother had not discarded it years ago was a mystery to me. She seemed enchanted by the little box. An avid worker of jug-saw puzzles, I think she saw the box as her ultimate challenge.

The origin of the box was cloudy. Both of my parents lived and breathed flea-markets and yard sales, so the box could have come from anywhere. When we found it, the box was safely tucked away in a large cardboard box full of old glasses and linens. The strange thing about the box was that it seemed out of place. A misfit, something from another time, another place.

The box just sat at my mother's house. Every now and then she would open "Pandora's Box" and try to visualize the people it had once belonged to. It was on one of those days that I entered the picture. I was visiting with my parents when I noticed this old Christmas box tucked away in a corner of the room. I jokingly asked about it because Christmas was just around the corner. My father laughed and told me to get the box and maybe I woule have some input about the box and it's contents.

I retrieved the box and opened it gently. Inside were several beautiful silk handkerchiefs folded and browning with age spots, two old valentines, obviously from someone who was very special, several letters, and four or five pictures. One picture, taken in 1949 at Jacksonville Beach, was of a handsome man. Who was he? What was his name? Was he the husband, father, brother, lover of the owner of the box? these questions rushed through my mind. The second picture was taken somewhere in the 1950's of an older man and woman. Could they be parents or grandparents perhaps? The third picture was a school picture of a cotton-topped "angel" about seven or eight years of age. There was no inscription or date. The last picture was another white haired beauty dressed in a pink feathered drape. This was obviously a senior portrait. I stared for a long time at this picture because it was hauntingly familiar. Was it deja vu? Did I know this person? But how did I know this person and from where?

I went home that evening puzzled and bewildered. Restless sleep followed, filled with dreams of the pictures from the box. The next day was Saturday and I returned to the box. Drawn like a sleep-walker to this hypnotic box, I read the letters and they offered no clues as to who the girl in pink was. On the back of ther pictures was written Kathryn. "Was the picture for Kathryn or of Kathryn," I asked myself.

On Wednesday, I was at work when one of our suppliers stopped by. He is a friendly fellow and a real family man. He had the newest family photo and could not wait to show it to me. When I looked at it I felt deja vu once again. The salesman's wife was a cotton-topped blonde and dressed in a pink blouse. I admired the pictures and the wheels of discovery began turning. After work that evening I went to my parent's house and borrowed Kathryn's picture.

The next Wednesday, when the supplier returned, I showed him the picture. He was floored. The girl in the picture was his wife, Kay! The two of us left the shop at lunch and went to see the box and after looking through the contents, Dan filled in the missing pieces of our puzzle. The little "angel" was in fact Kay's sister, Angel. The older couple; her grandparents, and the man from Jacksonville Beach was the man that hermother almost married. he was killed in action during the Korean War. All of these pictures had been sent to an aunt in Jasper, Alabama.

The letters were from the old, senile aunt to an old friend in California. When the aunt was committed to a nursing home, her son sold most of her belongings at an estate sale in Jasper. The buyer of the stuff had little or no use for the contents of the little Christmas box, and resold it at the Birmingham Flea Market. This was probably wehre my parents got the box.

"Pandora's box" produced a skeleton or two, an unsolved mystery, and hours of fun. "Pandora's box" is in the right hands now. The box is home where it belongs. "Pandora's box" is now "Kay's box." Kay has connected with her past. Another unsolved mystery laid to rest. Life, as it was, gones on. Que sera sera!

The Struggles with the Pants

Is everyone wearing their green?

No?

*Virtual pinches*

I nearly forgot to be honest. I realized it while we were eating breakfast.

"We need to get you in green!" I shouted at Tommy as I darted up the stairs.

I found him a shirt and tossed it at him.

"I don’t like this," he informed me, twisting the shirt around in his hands. "It’s short-sleeve. I want long-sleeve."

That’s Tommy’s latest thing: he only wants to wear long-sleeved shirts. If I dare try to get him in a short-sleeve he’ll have a whining match about it. I think it’s part defiance, part sensory issues.

So I had to find him a long-sleeved green shirt and then he wore it just fine.

Then I had to find a green shirt for me.

Not that I think perfect strangers would reach out and pinch me. At least I hope not.

Anyhow.

Some people asked me some questions that I wanted to answer.

One was why I tipped the baggers at the grocery store. I do this because on the military base the baggers just work for tips. Off base it’s apparently not allowed.

Second, people wanted to know where I bought Natalie’s birthday crown pictured in the previous entry.

I bought a bunch of Princess stuff for her birthday here:

http://www.celebrateexpress.com/celebration/default.aspx?N=4294967146&Ns=sort56&TabID=4294967146

On Friday we went to Kohls. I actually found three shirts for myself that I liked. I told Tommy that I’d have to try them on and he gave a long sigh and went, "Only one."

Um. Excuse me?

"Actually Tommy I’m going to try on all three," I said as I pushed the cart towards the dressing rooms.

"Just ONEEEE," Tommy whined in a voice that sends shivers up my spine.

"Three. I’ll be quick, I promise," I said as I shut the dressing room door behind us.

"Mommmm--meeeee," Tommy complained, slumping on the bench.

I tried on the shirts at lightening speed. I dared to ask Tommy how I looked in one of them and he gave me a Look that reminded me of the Look Tom gives me when he’s irritated.

"Fantastic," he said in a surley voice. "All done?"

After I tried on the shirts I had one thing left I wanted to try on. My best friend Jennifer had mentioned that she could wear size ZERO Candies brand jeans. Now, their jeans seem to run big. I ordered a pair of size 5 black pants while in England and they were huge. In fact if I wear them now I have to wear them with a belt or else they dip down too low for my liking. I guess I like to keep my underwear private while other people like to expose them to the world. (Although I prefer underwear. I’d rather not see someone’s catootie..)

I was curious to see if I could wear a size zero. Even though Jennifer is like ten pounds lighter than me. She has fantastic willpower while I do not.

Anyhow, I stepped into the pants and all was well. When I got to my thighs there was a slight struggle--and the conversation with the pants went like this:

Pants: Piss off you oversized minx! We cannot fit you! Stop eating the junk food and come back in a few weeks.

Me: Piss off you pants. I will get you up. I weighed 112 this morning and I’m quite proud.

Pants: 112 is not right for these pants. Go away. Come back another day.

Me: *blantantly ignoring pants and managing to pull them up to my waist. I had to suck in my stomach quite a bit to get the button closed and then I realized I wasn’t able to breathe well. But..*

"They closed! The pants closed! Tommy the pants CLOSED!" I did a dance around the room. Well a bizarre looking dance. Like I mentioned I couldn’t breathe well so my dance consisted of me doing mini bounces. I would have lifted up my leg but you see I could barely move in the pants.

"Mommy. I want to go home," Tommy told me, not even the least bit excited for me. And not looking a bit surprised that his mother was doing a strange dance. He’s lived with me for too long.

"The pants closed. The--" then I had to stop because I was running low on oxygen. I unbuttoned the pants and--RELIEF--I could breathe again.

I did not buy the pants. I suppose I could have just to say that I can wear size ZERO but I did not.

Of course I still love eating. After Kohls we went to Wendys for dinner where I got this spicy baconator thing which probably had like 1000 calories in it. But did I care? Not really, I wanted the spicy bacon burger.

When I went up to order I asked for a plain hamburger kid’s meal for Tommy. Tommy is picky and does not like the minced onions or pickles or mustard they put on it. He’ll downright refuse to eat it if these things are on the burger. So I have to stress PLAIN hamburger. Because if I say, "a hamburger with nothing on it" this seems to confuse the workers and they still put crap on it.

So I stressed PLAIN and the cocky guy on the other end went, "So you don’t want the bun either?"

Um.

"No I want the bun. Just nothing on the burger," I explained.

"Oh. Right. Fine, pull forward," the guy said.

That bacon burger of mine was DELICIOUS.

I’d like to say that I ate it like a lady--small bites and then not even finishing it--but that’s a lie. I gobbled it down and ate every last bite. Even the bits of bacon that fell down onto the paper.

And I may have finished Tommy’s fries too.

No willpower. Seriously.

That should be my nickname if I ever make it big.

Amber "no willpower" M****.

Oh, I also watched August Rush on Saturday and I loved it.

I now have a crush on Jonathan Reys Meyers. Of course I always thought he was attractive as he plays Henry VIII on The Tudors but he was H-O-T in the movie. Plus he has an Irish accent which I did not know as he doensn’t use it in The Tudors. That turned me on even more.

But yes, the movie was awesome. I’m glad I watched it after the kids went to bed because I don’t think I’d have appreciated it with added noise.

I did try to put it on when Tom was home but when the movie opened and the kid was in a wheat field pretending to be a conductor Tom proclaimed the movie to be "gay" and left the room.

"This looks like it will be really dumb," he said from the kitchen.

Sometimes I wish he could be just a LITTLE more sensitive. Honestly.

He’s just a total mans man and only likes movies where things are blowing up and men are rushing around cursing.

Tonight Dancing with the Stars is back and I’m one of the few who does not like the show.

Maybe if they put regular people on. I really don’t care to watch Steve Guttenburg cha-cha across the stage, thanks.

Oh well. I guess I’ll watch Jon and Kate plus 8 since Tommy also enjoys the show. I also enjoy it even though there are debates that Kate is too mean to Jon. I disagree. Sometimes a woman has to snap at a man to get him to actually DO something. At least with my husband you do. If you ask him in a kindly voice to do something he’s all, "I’ll get to it," or just plain ignores you if he’s on the computer. But if you shout it a little bit he’s all, "Okay! Geez. I’ll do it now..."

Tommy goes to Language Lab

Okay so I’m trying to eat better and have bought a lot of those 100 calories packages.

The problem is, sometimes there is barely enough food in them. It’s like two bites and you’re done. I don’t know about everyone else but that’s not enough food to fill me up. I know there was this woman on The Today Show talking about how you could tell yourself that you’re full and your body would believe it.

Mine does not.

Mine thinks that’s complete bullshit.

This morning I had the 100 calorie blueberry muffins. For one, they tasted like feet. For two, they were bite sized. So it’s like three bites and you’re done. I ate them even though they tasted like feet because in the mornings we’re in a time crunch and I don’t have the extra minutes to find something else. So I ate the feet-muffins and my stomach angrily rumbled at me for more.

The hell Amber? my stomach said, What was THAT? And is that seriously all we’re getting today??
Yes. So move on and wait paitiently for lunch.

My stomach gave an angry gurgle.

Stomach! I lectured. MOVE ON!

Of course I also had two Thin Mints which made my stomach a little happier.

I know the 100 calorie packs are made for snacks though but when I want a snack, I’d like a little bit more food than three bites.

I also got those 100 calorie Twix bars and it’s like two bites and you’re done.

The crap?

Oh and yes I do like Little People, Big World. A lot of people asked me that since I mentioned liking Jon and Kate plus 8. I wish I could take my children to their farm.

Anyhow.

Tommy is going to be starting something called Language Lab.

He goes to a different school in the morning for it since his current school doesn’t have one.

The school psychologist called and asked if it would be something that Tommy would enjoy.

I figured it would being that he loves to learn. This basically helps him to speak more and answer more questions and learn more social skills.

I was invited to go check the Language Lab out last Friday and I agreed. The school it’s at is pretty close to the house.

I had to take Natalie with me but she didn’t seem to mind. She gazed around as I entered the Language Lab room and the teacher introduced herself. Pretty much everything in the room was labeled. I sat down in a chair labeled "chair." For some reason this amused me and I nearly got a case of the giggles. I swallowed it back so the teacher didn’t think that I didn’t find this serious.

I sat for the first thirty minutes of the class. There are five other boys in the class and some have sensory issues like Tommy. I could see one that reminded me so much of Tommy walked around on tip-toes and banging his feet on the ground as he sat at his desk.

I knew Tommy would do wonderfully there.

The teacher had a picture up on the screen and she called on the kids to explain what they saw.

"And what about this lady? What feeling do you think she has?" the teacher asked, pointing at this cartoon lady whose brows were furrowed.

This also amused me and I nearly got the case of the giggles again.

(I got in trouble at school a lot for getting the giggles. I’d usually find a friend who also had a problem with the giggles and we’d collapse into laughter so the teacher would have to separate us. This also happened in high school in biology class. You’d think I’d have outgrown the giggles by then but no. My friend Olivia said in a funny voice, "Investigating starfish," because we were investigating starfish and I found this HILARIOUS and couldn’t stop laughing. So yes, the teacher separated us. Oops.)

"Her is mad!" one of the boys offered.

"Why do you think she’s mad?" the teacher asked.

And the boys took turns speaking. One boy didn’t seem to want to say much and kept shrugging his shoulders and going, "Dunno.."

At one point the teacher asked a question and no one answered. So then Natalie went,

"Ahh babababa!"

Like she was all, "Dudes, this is easy stuff, here’s the answer.."

Everyone laughed at that.

But yes, I thought Tommy would do really well there.

So yesterday we had another school meeting. I’ve seen that office more than I ever saw my school office when I attended school.

So basically Tommy is doing great in the resource room which is a smaller classroom. He is in the regular room in the mornings to put his stuff away in his cubby, do lunch count and sit for the opening lesson.

The psychologist was telling me that she was impressed by how Tommy seemed to wait for all the kids to put their things away and then he’d put his things away. Like he knew all the noise would bug him so he waited back for it to settle down before approaching. Then at circle time he sat a little away from the class so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

"I thought it was wonderful that he knew exactly what he needed to keep himself comfortable," she said.

She said he still gets a little upset if he raises his hand and the teacher doesn’t call on him right away. But it’s not a full out meltdown anymore.

Then after the opening lesson Tommy walks down to the resource room with another boy. The psychologist said she trailed them and Tommy went straight for the resource room while the other boy started wandering down another hall.

"Down here!" Tommy told him as the little boy danced down the other hall.

In the end Tommy was all, "I’m going to the resource room. Bye," and then left.

She says she’s proud that he knows exactly where he needs to go.

However, some of his issues are if he can’t figure something out HIS way right away, he gets upset and starts whining. He does several puzzles in the room and if he can’t figure out how HE thinks it should work, he does the whining and can’t focus on anything else until he finishes.

He definately has some OCD qualities.

Also, he doesn’t always let his occupational therapist sit beside him. If she tries, there are some days where he’ll tell her to go away.

Of course as a mother who teaches her kids manners, I was appalled to hear this.

But the bottom line is he’s doing really well. The teacher in the resource room says she has no problems getting him to do his work.

Soo..

Since he usually goes there in the morning then his day would go like this:

In the mornings he goes to language lab. I’d drop him off at his home school and a bus would pick him up there to the language lab school.

He’d go to language lab until around 11 then be bussed back to his other school where he’d get to have lunch and recess with his friends.

Then he’d go to the resource room and complete his work for the day. And then he’d be able to go to music or art again.

Remember, Tommy has only been going half days. He’d usually come home around 12:15.

But now he’ll be going all day again and we’re going to see how he does. I hope he does well.

And he gets his music and art which he enjoys. No PE yet because he had some severe meltdowns in there. So on PE days he’ll just stay in the resource room. But in the language lab they go to the gym just as a group so it won’t be a HUGE group..this way Tommy shouldn’t get overwhelmed.

In the meeting the psychologist brought up that she did several tests on Tommy and that they came out that he was Most Likely to have Aspergers which is a form of autism. I mean I know it’s not official that he has it but I know he definately has some traits.

The kid is brilliant though. He’s really interested in the human body so he’s been learning about that at home. He has several books that we read, plus this game that my parents gave him about it. So he’ll randomly say, "I’m breathing in oxygen right now," or after he eats he’s all, "My stomach is churning my food. And then eventually I’ll poop it out." (Yes, I try not to giggle at that..)

Uncle Cecil

I want to tell you about my uncle Cecil. He was my dad's brother and only a couple of years older than my father. He was a great storyteller. I guess some people would call him a teller of tall tales....or a b.s. artist. Whatever title you want to bestow on him, he could entertain us kids for hours with his tales. I think I got my ability to spin a tale from him....at least I would like to think so. Uncle Cecil was a teacher and so am I. He taught air conditioning and refrigeration at the Palm Beach County trade school. He was good at his job....but he had a few hidden talents as well. He could write some of the prettiest poetry you have ever read....which many of us never knew until his death, and he could tell some of the greatest stories. Mark Twain would have been envious of this man's ability to weave a web of intrigue. My favorite story was about a fishing trip he went on one time. We lived in South Florida and all the men I know would fish the canal banks behind our house in the evening and the canals off the interstate on Saturdays. My uncle was no different. He loved to fish. One fall Saturday he was fishing a canal off the Florida turnpike. He had been fishing for hours and had finally run out of bait...problem was the fish were still biting. Uncle Cecil was a resourceful man and he looked around for something else to use as bait, when his eyes fell on a snake who was coming ashore with a frog in its clutches. He waited til the snake made land and walked over and thumped the snake on the head. The snake immediately opened his mouth and released its catch. My uncle was known to take a sip off the bottle every now and then....today was one of those now days...after he took the snake's frog. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his flask of Johnny Walker and shook a bit from the bottle in the snake's mouth. He took the frog and continued to fish. About an hour later my uncle said he felt something tugging at his pant leg. He looked down and there was his snake buddy. He was sitting there with his mouth wide open and had a line of frogs waiting for my uncle to use. My uncle shook a bit more Johnny Walker in the snakes mouth and continued to fish for many more hours with the bounty from the snake. Ok, now....remember....I was a kid. I bought into this story....hook, line, and sinker.....do you? Believe it or not!

Malcolm

Several years ago I went on a mission trip through Appalachian Service Project in Chavies, Kentucky. For those of you who have never heard of Chavies it is the home of the annual Cushaw festival. A cushaw is a goardy vegetable type thing. I was a project leader for the first time and my team consisted of another adult woman - Lenora, two teenage girls - Katie and Emily, and two teenage boys - Garon and Sach. Our house was a huge project....we had to dig, pour and install 21 holes for 21 support beams and do this in a week. The first day was very eventful. We met Malcolm. Our host houses next door neighbor. Malcolm, a.k.a. "June Bug" by the locals, came to check out what we "wuz a doin'" and to let us know we "wuz not doin' it right." He also wanted to know if we were interested in some barbie dolls they had cleaned out of a room making room for his 17 year old son. I was surprised that a 17 year old male was still living at home. Most young men by that age were married in Chavies and livin' in the "holler" near their parents. Anyways, Malcolm explained to us that he and his momma collected the barbie dolls....and proceeded to tell us how to tell the difference in a fake and real doll. If it is real there are two "shurefire ways you can tell." "First you pull up her hair," and he proceeded to lift the hair on the nape of my neck, "and see if U. S. of A. is stamped on her neck." The other way was the kicker...."You pull down her little panties and if she has Mattel stamped on her A$$ then she is the real McCoy." I spewed Coke all over the ground with that one. Later in the day Malcolm visited us again with a present for me, the "leaduh woman" - a nickname he bestowed upon me. My gift was a black flat rock. I was overjoyed. I thanked him for the rock....and he was a bit put out with me....informing me that it was not just "a ordinary rock....look at it." I did....and to my amazement saw all the fossils in the rock. I really was excited then.....but that was not enough....Malcolm grabbed my hand and began to pull me through the underhouse opening....so he could take me to the crick bank where it came from. I put on a screeching halt and explained that if I went....we all had to go....his disappointment was evident....as he said..."they cain't go....they will disturb things." Shades of Deliverance. So none of us went. Later that evening when we returned to base....the story of the barbie doll had preceeded us....and my senior pastor....came up behind me....raised the hair again on the nape of my neck and said he was just trying to see if I was the real thing. Willie Lemmond yelled from across the room and told him to try the other way....I could have died. My face turned maroon, you see I embarrass easily. After that day Malcolm met us every day with some sort of gift....or finding. I got flowers from his momma's garden one day. I got a piece of cake. In all the days we were there....I never got a barbie doll....but to this day I look at the blonde bombshell in a whole different light. I will never see a true Barbie without thinking of Malcolm from Chavies and smiling. What a summer that was.

Cinderella

Steven Curtis Chapman has a wonderful new song out called, "Cinderella." I heard it the other day on my way home from work and had to pull off the road as I sat and I cried my eyes out. The thing that made me the saddest was that even though the song applied to me, because I could hear me saying this to my daddy....it did NOT apply to my little Cinderella, Kathryn. She never heard her daddy say those things to her. Oh, it was not because he was dead....he was just absent. His world revolved around him....not the two of us. I was there when she danced....I was there at her prom....but...I was not who she wanted....or needed at that moment. She needed her daddy....like I had needed mine all those many years before. I want to share the words with all of you out there in blogspot land. They are very thought provoking....and for all the daddy's....who have let their daughters dance on their feet...smile....there will come a day when you won't have Cinderella anymore....Prince Charming will have whisked her away....enjoy her while you can. I certainly did.

Cinderella - by Steven Curtis Chapman

Verse 1:

"She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,Without a care in the world.

And I'm sitting here wearing the weight of the world on my shoulders.

It's been a long day and there's still work to do,

She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!

There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I need to practice my dancin'"

"Oh please, daddy, please!"

Chorus:

So I will dance with Cinderella

While she is here in my arms

'Cause I know something the prince never knew

Oh I will dance with CinderellaI

don't want to miss even one song

'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight

And she'll be gone.

Verse 2:

She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed

She wants to know if I approve of the dress

She says, "Dad the prom is just one week away

And I need to practice my dancin'

"Oh please, daddy , please!"

Chorus:

So I will dance with Cinderella

While she is here in my arms

'Cause I know something the prince never knew

Oh I will dance with Cinderella

I don't want to miss even one song

'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight

And she'll be gone

Verse 3:

But she came home today with a ring on her hand

Just glowin' and tellin' us all they had planned

She says, "Dad the wedding's still six months away

but I need to practice my dancin'

"Oh please, daddy , please!"

Chorus:

So I will dance with Cinderella

While she is here in my arms

'Cause I know something the prince never knew

Oh I will dance with Cinderella

I don't want to miss even one song

'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight

And she'll be gone"

And trust me....one day you lay them on their little tummy's in a crib...you blink...and they are walking down the aisle with the love of their life...midnight came way to fast for me...believe me. Happy Saturday....and Sweet Dreams Cinderella, I love you!

Little Grandmother

My Grandmother Prophitt was one of my most favorite people in the world. She was not even 5' tall.....that is why we all called her little Grandmother. All the grandchildren were taller than she was....by the time we were 9. She was a fiery little lady....with the best smile and the biggest hugs. She worked the second shift at Avondale Mills where she wound cotton for many years. I remember lying in the bed at night in her Mill Village home, waiting for the mill whistle to blow and my grandmother to come walking in the door of her house. I can smell Avon products today, especially Skin So Soft, and be taken back to the days of my childhood. My grandmother loved Avon. We all have grandparents....it is a fact of life....some are better than others....some we love with all our hearts....some we tolerate....some we are afraid of. I was fortunate enough to have one grandmother during my life time that I adored. To those of you who read this....I hope it tickles a warm fuzzy memory for you too....and you start Easter week....smiling. Grandmother....this one is for you.

Grandma's Life Seasons

by Leigh Granville-Claymore

It was the spring when she began her journey towards winter.

Young, fragile, innocent

peeking her unknowing face into the world of being.

She became....a tiny, beautiful, fragrant flower.

In the summer of her life she grew like the rows of

weeds and vegetables found in any farmer's garden.

She produced the fruits of her labors,

but oftentimes because of insufficient tending,

her life vines came up with only a dried-up

remnant of what would have been.

Life was as hard then as the July heat.

Relentless...Unfeeling.

As she neared the fall of her life she found

herself weary.

She looked forward to sheeding the unnecessary

in preparation for her winter's rest.

She had bloomed and grown and it was not

time to ungrow.

Time to just sit back and relax.

It is taking it easy time.

Take it easy she did. She had earned this.

The winter came on quickly, as winter often does.

The whiteness of her hair matched

the starkness of the ground.

Inseparable in contrast.

The hard lines in her face resembled the

dormant oaks in her front yeard; brittle, hard.

Winter - a time to sleep,

a time of peace.

Spring would be here soon and the life

season would begin for another...

and then another....

and finally me.

Peace to you all. Have a blessed day!

You No Help!

First of all, Tommy got a math t-shirt at school for being able to count and write to 21.

I was so proud of him. Tommy acted like it was no big deal when he strolled through the front door in his new t-shirt.

"Tommy!" I exclaimed. "You got the math t-shirt!"

I knew about it because the teacher had sent a letter home stating that they’d randomly be asking the children to count and write to 21. And the ones who were able to would receive a free t-shirt.

Awesome.

Tommy just shrugged and went, "I guess."

Then he told me they took his picture. Which I knew they did because at the school they have a board of star math students.

I had to go to Wal-Mart to get a gate.

I placed it in front of the bathroom and stairs. Natalie seemed a little insulted.

I also bought Bee Movie which Tommy said was "very weird."

I also got August Rush from Netflix. It looked interesting.

Then I had to go grocery shopping.

While we were there Natalie was admired by a number of people.

This sweet old Korean lady came right up to her and touched her arm.

Natalie instantly got her, "Who the hell are youuuu?" look and burst into (very loud) tears.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she hollared as the Korean lady clutched her heart and backed up in surprise.

Then down another aisle this old lady approached her and got too close for Natalie’s comfort.

"Well hello sweet baby. Hello," the old lady cooed. "You are just so preci--"

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Natalie cut her off and looked absolutely horrified.

The old lady’s eyes flew open in surprise. "I’m so sorry," she said looking at me. "I thought she was sweet."

This made me snicker.

She thought Natalie was sweet.

I suppose Natalie screaming her head off makes her not so sweet.

The final offense came from an old man. (I guess old people just love babies today.) He crouched down so he was looking right into Natalie’s eyes.

"Look how pretty. Look how pretty you ar--" he began.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I think at this point Natalie was thinking, "Holy crap, come on people, piss off!"

I really am thinking about taping a sign to her that reads: "Hello. I’m Natalie. Strangers scare me. Please remain at least 10 feet away."

She doesn’t mind if people admire her from afar. When we were in line this couple behind us were making faces at her and she smiled back at them. If they came any closer I think we’d have another crying match on our hands.

I ended up spending $111 on groceries.

Oops.

I may as well give up on spending $50. I always walk in thinking, "Okay I’m only going to spend $50," and then I’m surprised when I’m given the total amount.

Also at the commissary there are baggers who wheel out your groceries to the car for you.

I always feel like I should help them when we get to the car. They load all the groceries in for you too.

But I feel awkward just standing there staring and I always want to reach over and help. Which proves that I could never have a housekeeper because I’d inevitably join in and they’d probably look at me in astonishment. I could never be rich and let people do things for me. I’d just feel very very strange.

Anyhow today I did try to start helping and the woman looked highly insulted. In fact she slapped my hand away in surprise.

"You no help!" she barked.

(She was from Guam I think. I heard her chatting with another bagger saying she missed Guam.)

"I’m sorry," I said stunned that this sweet old lady had nearly taken my hand off. (I suppose that’s how people feel when Natalie suddenly shrieks at them.)

The bagger wagged a finger at me. "You no help," she repeated. "I do all. You no help."

"Okay. I won’t. I just always feel weird just standing here and.."

"YOU NO HELP!"

"OKAY!" I held my hands up in surrender and gestured to my right. "I’ll just stand right here."

I gave her a $5 tip. Normally I only give $3 but to be perfectly honest, she scared me a little bit.

I was worried if I tried to give her $3 she’d open my trunk and throw a bag full of groceries at me or something.

"You give lousy tips!" she’d shout as I tried my damndest not to be hit by flying crackers.

When we got home I offered Natalie some diced peaches that I had bought in hopes that she’d actually eat "people" food.

She did not.

She simply played with the pieces along her highchair tray. She’d push one along with her index finger and then look at me with glee.

Look at this slimy thing!

"Natalie, precious, you’re supposed to EAT it," I’d remind her.

"EEEEE!" she responded and tossed a handful on the ground.

*Le sigh*

My daughter is just going to be uber skinny is all.

I also dared to try and give her a turkey and green bean jar food.

She flipped out. You’d think I had fed her the contents of her diaper on a spoon or something.

She howled in anger and then slammed her hands down on the highchair tray for emphasis.

You.fed.me.crappy.food.You.fed.me.crappy.food.

"Mommy is sorry," I said over the banging and screeching.

She is going to be a fun teenager, really.

To My Daughter on Leaving for College

Today I was having a moment of melancholy. I was cleaning out a bookshelf in my classroom and found a beat up notebook full of old writings and ramblings from years gone by. The one that struck me most interesting was actually a published piece. I got a check for this bad boy....and then I grew pensive....how long ago had I written this....then I remembered....10 years had passed. When did that happen? It seemed like only yesterday my little precious....was starting first grade....now she has a classroom of her own. I read the poem again....and knew that I had raised an exceptional daughter....I was a success....I folded the papers back in the book....and placed it back on the shelf....then had a second thought and took one sheet out of the stack....and used it on my blog today....

To My Daughter on Leaving for College

The day dawned bright and shiny
Yet a storm was brewing in my heart
We loaded the last of your life in the car
And headed down a new highway
One that you would go alone.

I watched you silently from the passenger seat
This was a new role for me
I had done all I was supposed to do as a parent
And now...now, I had to set you free

We unpacked, arranged and you flitted off
Like a beautiful butterfly.
I walked away from you...feeling suddenly very old.
You were on your own.

A thousand thoughts flooded my mind.
Had I told you this? Had I taught you that?
I shielded my eyes against the sun and tears.
And let you go. Fly baby.

....I fold the poem again.....smiled at myself....and knew...she had flown. God is good....and I am truly blessed this particular Thursday in March.

Lighting Up My Life

I have spent some time in my life walking in darkness, haven't you.? If you're like me, becoming a Christian did not change that...you see....there are days when I still walk in darkness. It is not God's fault....it is all mine....cause I make that choice to walk in the dark. I am human....and I know that we all go through times of struggle, whether it be some sinful action or behavior or perhaps something out of our control, like the death of a loved one, or the loss of a job. Whatever it is there is no one on earth who can really identify with your situation other than yourself...and don't let them kid you.....I hate it when people come up to me in my darkness and say...."I know how you feel." I want to scream at them...."Do you? Do you really?....and when did you experience this feeling?" So....it is that knee jerk reactio that makes it twice as hard to have hope sometimes. But there is some truly great news and that is that God loves me, us....the guy next door, the world....no matter what our present situation is. In fact, I truly believe that God uses our experiences as character builders... to shape us to be like Him. I have this hope in Jesus because he has plans for my future. It is for that reason...that I keep holding on....clinging to the rope....hanging in there.....until the darkness passes....and the morning arrives....and I can look back down the path I have come....and laugh at myself....that I was ever afraid...and even when I feel myself letting go....I know that is not going to happen....cause He will be there to catch me. He lights up my world...and makes my dark times bearable. For that....I say....Amen and Thank You Jesus!

Treasures on Earth

My friend Robert, Dr. Bob, sent me a lenten thought for today and the verse was “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be
also.”—Matthew 6:21. This verse made me think....and for a Monday after springing forward with a time change that was a difficult task....but I asked myself, "just what are your treasures Karen?" I came up with the traditional treasures, my parents, my husband, my children, my church, my friends, my job, and some stuff....you know...like photographs that provide memories, my guitar that provides intertainment and stress relief....my computer...it allows me to create words, this blog, keep up with people.....All of these things I am truly grateful for. They provide my life with a sense of fullness and completion...but I had to think outside the traditional box....what would my real treasures be? Well...I think it would be the fact that I am a Christian. I have a relationship with Jesus that is by far my greatest treasure. I talk to Himdaily, walk with Him....and I know that I belong to Him. Of all the treasures in my life this one is definitely worth more than all the money in Fort Knox. So....as I begin my first week of springing forward time...and the last week of school this term....I am truly a blessed person. I teach in a job that I know I am called for....and love every moment. I sing to a God I adore and who adores me. I sing professionally.....get paid sometimes....don't others...but it is ok...because I am using a talent that God has given me.....and I fill up my days with people I love...and who love me. I have an abundance of treasure on this earth....I am truly blessed....thank you God for giving me this life path to walk.

Dream, Dream, Dream

We all have dreams....well most of us do. When I was young I dreamed of being famous and buying my mother a baby blue Lincoln Continental. Don't ask me why....I thought my mother would love it....and therefore love me. My childhood dreams were replaced with teenage dreams. I wanted to be a mother surfer chick. I wanted to be a wife, mother, and surf all the time. I married relatively young...that is...if you call 20 young. By todays standards I was a baby. I was really a baby when you factor in the fact that I inherited a ready-made family. I had a four and five year old instantly....I was dreaming now of being super mom/wife. One day after my daughter, Kat, was born.....a friend of mine lost her husband in an accident. She had nothing to fall back on....and lost everything. I did not want that happening to me....I had a dream....I dreamed I would go to college and teach. But we had no extra money....I stopped by Aliant Bank one day....it was First National then....and spoke with a young loan officer named Phil. He made my college dream a reality. I am eternally grateful to him for that. I finished college and began teaching. I dreamed again....I wanted to have a Master's Degree.....and it happened. I love Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. I have had many dreams....some of them became realities...others of them were altered with time....and some of them never happened....but whatever the outcome of my dreams....they were that....dreams. I truly believe that when you quit dreaming you die....or stagnate. Last year I dreamed my husband, Frank, and I were poor at seminary....today....I am a preachers wife....how funny is that? God used me to help him make a commitment he had been fighting for years. April 26th I have a dream coming to fruition. I have wanted to sing on the stage of the RiverCenter in Columbus....ever since it opened. Last week we, Still Magnolias, found out that we are opening for Cowboy Crush. I don't care if I am the opening act....or the headliner....I am singing from the stage at the RiverCenter. I had a dream....hummmmm.....do you think my mom might still want a baby blue Lincoln? LOL....dream on folks...dream on. If you can dream it....you can achieve it....if it is in God's plans for you.

Happy Sixth Birthday, Tommy

Dear Tommy,

Today you are six years old. I can hardly believe it. You're already up to my waist and I believe when you're a teenager you'll be towering over me. I watch you play sometimes and you'll catch me staring and look surprised. "Mommy," you'll say, covering your face. "Stop looking at me!" I'll explain that I'm staring because you're so handsome and because I can't believe you've gotten so big. I don't think you quite understand because you continue to cover your face until I look away.

I know your life hasn't been easy. I'm sure you're beginning to realize that some people find you different from others. You can be clumsy at times, but then again, so can your mother. While other kids might easily walk without tripping, you might traipse along and stumble over your feet and look awkward. When you get excited you flap your hands—I always used to find that cute when you were younger—I still do—and it was insulting to me when the professionals told me that it wasn't a good thing after all. "Maybe that's just how he expresses his excitement," I once said to one of those professionals. I felt like that I needed to stick up for you because in this world we live in everyone seems to want to diagnose, diagnose, diagnose.

Darling boy, I want you to know that it's okay to be different. You don't have to be like everyone else. In fact I think it gives you character to be different, to be the one flapping his arms in excitement. Instead of easily throwing a ball you might struggle with it but that's okay. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't do something. Because you can. It might just be in a different way. I know some kids might start to be cruel and this worries me because you are such a sensitive boy. Don't let other kids get you down. The kids that are mean will probably grow up to be unhappy individuals. Don't ever fight back, just keep your chin up and know that you are a good boy with a good heart.

Tommy, last night I watched this movie called Martian Child and the little boy in the movie reminded me of you. He was what other people would call different. There were people in the movie who called him weird and didn't understand him. It's something I know you have gone through. People have tossed strange looks in your direction when you walk by on your tiptoes and I'd just give them a smile and walk beside my special boy who dares to defy what "normal" is.

You are so smart. I watch as you put together your Legos in astonishment. Sometimes you get frustrated and shout out in anger. But you always figure it out and then show me a wonderful building that you've put together. You started doing this at the age of three and I was amazed how you'd make buildings or animals or even a boat. You also started writing your name at three which always confused those professionals who probably thought that you were incapable of doing such a thing. Your memory also amazes me—you remember things that I was so sure you would forget. You still talk about when we used to live in England and can point out England on a map without trouble. "We used to live there," you say seriously.

Tommy, I love you more than anything in this world. You were given to me for a reason. I will do all that I can to fight for you, to explain that even though you may seem different, that you're a wonderful kid.

What can I say? Maybe you are my little Martian child.

I love you and Happy Birthday,
Mommy