In the car on the way to art lessons for #1, the kids were asking if a minivan is called a minivan, what is a real van. They learned what SUV means as well as the difference between sedan and coupe. (Really, their father needed to be in the car making sure I was teaching them correctly.)
Then the conversation drifted into what cars we each liked. Number two says, "I'm either going to drive a motorcycle or a Mustang." Number 3 blurts out, "I want a brand new, light blue, convertible punchbuggy.... or a jeep." My oldest says she wants a punchbuggy too, but she wants it to be pink and does NOT want it to be a convertible. (People fall into one of two categories, I've decided. You are either a "hair blowing in the breeze kind of person, or not..... she falls in the latter category.)
I told them I could relate to wanting a VW. But my "dream car" is an older Beetle. White on white convertible. I explained to them that there is a certain wonderful smell that a VW has. I can't imagine that the newer ones have that smell. Another good thing about a car that small - there is really not a lot of room for passengers. In fact, I think if I ever get my dream car, I need to start carrying a really big purse so that it takes up the passenger side seat.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
rebel without a cause
Me 10 years ago: "I will NEVER be a minivan mom. Everyone has them and I don't want to be just like everyone else. Nope, you will never see me driving a minivan. Ew."
Me 3 years ago: "I don't ever want to get rid of my minivan. I love this thing. It's like a best friend."
Me a year ago: "I will NEVER buy a Suburban. Not that I think SUVs are ruining the environment, but, come on, everybody has one. I don't want to be like everyone else. They must be hard to drive. Besides, someone might think I'm a "soccer mom".
Me, now: "Y'know, honey, we were really cramped in the minivan on the way to NC. I can't imagine how much LESS room we will have once the kids get a little older and have bigger clothes. We really need a bigger vehicle. Which do you think is bigger, a Suburban or a Yukon XL? I'll bet we can find a really good deal on one right now."
Me 3 years ago: "I don't ever want to get rid of my minivan. I love this thing. It's like a best friend."
Me a year ago: "I will NEVER buy a Suburban. Not that I think SUVs are ruining the environment, but, come on, everybody has one. I don't want to be like everyone else. They must be hard to drive. Besides, someone might think I'm a "soccer mom".
Me, now: "Y'know, honey, we were really cramped in the minivan on the way to NC. I can't imagine how much LESS room we will have once the kids get a little older and have bigger clothes. We really need a bigger vehicle. Which do you think is bigger, a Suburban or a Yukon XL? I'll bet we can find a really good deal on one right now."
Monday, July 16, 2007
good times, good times
Well, we are finally home. Safe and sound. What a wonderful trip we had. Long, but very good.
I don't think I have ever been around my Mom for that long without having at least one argument. Before now. We just had a blast. Laughed, my Lord, we laughed a lot. We hit a couple of thrift stores. We had a ton of yummy salads. We watched the kids play and we got hooked on one of the only bits of tv I let them watch - a show called "How Clean is Your House?" on BBCA (had to change the channels when the commercials came on though - eek!) I think they gained a new respect for the importance of keeping a home clean. (Hey, cool!)
My favorite day, though, was the 11th.
On Wednesday, we met up with my sister and we all went over to visit my brother. (As a sideline, he was born with severe mental retardation, is non-verbal and wheelchair-bound. I am fairly sure he recognizes us, but isn't always glad to see us.... like, when we come during naptime. His favorite activity has always been slamming doors. The louder a door slams, the more he laughs. Go figure.) He rolled his eyes at me when I showed him #5. Just last year I introduced him to #4 who was then not even a year old. Now another. Not knowing how much he comprehends, but giving him full benefit of the doubt, I am sure he is thinking "Dear God, woman! Do you live right beside a baby factory or something?!" He wouldn't look at me the rest of the visit and was trying to wheel himself away. He did laugh a couple of times when one of the kids would scream (remember, he loves loud, chaotic noises - seems to charge his batteries - I am thinking it is the testosterone).
Ennyhoo, after we tortured my brother with all his nieces and nephews, we went to lunch at Bob Evans. Good heavens, they make a fantastic Cobb Salad. However, even the yummy, treasure-filled, crispy, green goodness of a salad could not trump the activity that all those kids were creating. Ever tried to get a huge litter of kittens to stay in a basket? Or, perhaps, nailing jello to a tree?
On to our next activity: visiting our old hometown. Siler City, NC a place where (if you ever watched the show) Andy Griffith would occasionally go eat dinner.
Because we were on a limited time leash, we weren't able to call any of our friends and say, "Hey, let's get together". Rather, this was a day for the three of us. Remembering. Good memories. Nostalgia. The first thing we did (after riding past the newly built Catholic Church) was to visit my Dad's gravesite. This was not to be a sad occasion. That "saddest day" was nearly 20 years ago. No, we were not there to be sad. Too much happiness has happened as a result of his being alive (my sister inherited his evil wit, my oldest son got the stinky feet gene, etc). We were all having a blast being together - My Mom and her two girls and her 8 grandkids - and we wanted to incorporate my Dad in the day as much as he was able to participate. All the kids sat down around Dad's grave marker (me: "ok kids, come sit on Grampa Bud's lap) and we took their picture.
Next, we went to the first house I remember living in. It is, surprisingly, a very small neighborhood on a cul-de-sac. It seemed so big back then. The house still has the pool that my parents built. I remember riding my bike all around that street. In and out of the neighbors' driveways and carports. No one cared about property boundaries. No one worried about staying out all day and playing until dusk. At the end of the street, there used to be a community garden. You would never know it now. It is dense woodland now. I remember seeing the tall corn growing. Harvesting it in the full summer sun. Also, potatoes, beans, and tomatoes. Summertime flavors.
Next we rode by the two rental houses (the first of which is the house pictured in the Siler City link) we lived in for 18 months or so while the house that my parents built was being completed. The white victorian was so cool. I could walk to and from my middle school. One of my classmates introduced me to the world of General Hospital (egads!). We only lived in the downstairs of that house. There were boxes of our stuff in the upstairs. My Dad liked using the upstairs bathroom each morning. He kept locking the door to the widow's walk every day. Mom swears she didn't unlock it after he went to work. My sister remembers a "presence". I was oblivious. I remembered the way the paper tops covered the milk bottles that the milk man delivered each week. The clink of the bottles in the aluminum holder. The way the sun shone brightly into the breakfast room. The enormous banister of the stairs. The faint smell of cat urine that the previous owner's pet left behind.
The next rental house...away from town. Our first exposure to the term "rural". It looks nothing like it did back then. I remember the maple kitchen cabinets and the huge screened in garage. The apple trees. We got a horse that year. I tried and tried and tried to learn how to do a cartwheel in that backyard. Near the persimmon tree. Mmmm... another food memory: my Mom's persimmon pudding.
We ventured even further past cowpastures and chicken farms and down the long, gravel driveway to the house that they built. A little scary, going down someone's private drive. There it was. Looking better than ever. The homeowners met us at the driveway. I got out to let them know we were merely on a nostalgic trip. They were the new owners. They had just taken a break from bringing the place back to life. The previous (second) owners had let the place fall in disrepair. Ivy coverd the entire porch and was coming into the front doors and windows. (I remembered a dream I had recently where I was back in that house and someone was trying to break into the front. I couldn't shut the front door or either of the front windows. Odd.) They were so excited to meet us. They remarked how well built the house was. "It had to have been sturdy to withstand all the neglect from those folks." he said. She said, "We're getting married in the grove of trees in the front of the property (which was a horse pasture lo those many years ago) on Saturday! We're racing around like mad to get the place ready for our happy day." Sweat equity. What joy!
Before we left to go back to Mom's current house - 2 hours away - I rode past all the schools I went to. The beautiful old Paul Braxton with its long halls grounded by shiny wood floors, a forgettable middle school and then my high school. Seems like three lifetimes ago. A whole 'nuther set of memories.
What a feeling of being right with the world that day was. A feeling of being complete. The day sorta gave me a "do de do dee" moment. Wednesday was the kind of day that you would want to have before you died. Y'know how they say a person's life flashes before their eyes before they die. It was that. Only better.
I don't think I have ever been around my Mom for that long without having at least one argument. Before now. We just had a blast. Laughed, my Lord, we laughed a lot. We hit a couple of thrift stores. We had a ton of yummy salads. We watched the kids play and we got hooked on one of the only bits of tv I let them watch - a show called "How Clean is Your House?" on BBCA (had to change the channels when the commercials came on though - eek!) I think they gained a new respect for the importance of keeping a home clean. (Hey, cool!)
My favorite day, though, was the 11th.
On Wednesday, we met up with my sister and we all went over to visit my brother. (As a sideline, he was born with severe mental retardation, is non-verbal and wheelchair-bound. I am fairly sure he recognizes us, but isn't always glad to see us.... like, when we come during naptime. His favorite activity has always been slamming doors. The louder a door slams, the more he laughs. Go figure.) He rolled his eyes at me when I showed him #5. Just last year I introduced him to #4 who was then not even a year old. Now another. Not knowing how much he comprehends, but giving him full benefit of the doubt, I am sure he is thinking "Dear God, woman! Do you live right beside a baby factory or something?!" He wouldn't look at me the rest of the visit and was trying to wheel himself away. He did laugh a couple of times when one of the kids would scream (remember, he loves loud, chaotic noises - seems to charge his batteries - I am thinking it is the testosterone).
Ennyhoo, after we tortured my brother with all his nieces and nephews, we went to lunch at Bob Evans. Good heavens, they make a fantastic Cobb Salad. However, even the yummy, treasure-filled, crispy, green goodness of a salad could not trump the activity that all those kids were creating. Ever tried to get a huge litter of kittens to stay in a basket? Or, perhaps, nailing jello to a tree?
On to our next activity: visiting our old hometown. Siler City, NC a place where (if you ever watched the show) Andy Griffith would occasionally go eat dinner.
Because we were on a limited time leash, we weren't able to call any of our friends and say, "Hey, let's get together". Rather, this was a day for the three of us. Remembering. Good memories. Nostalgia. The first thing we did (after riding past the newly built Catholic Church) was to visit my Dad's gravesite. This was not to be a sad occasion. That "saddest day" was nearly 20 years ago. No, we were not there to be sad. Too much happiness has happened as a result of his being alive (my sister inherited his evil wit, my oldest son got the stinky feet gene, etc). We were all having a blast being together - My Mom and her two girls and her 8 grandkids - and we wanted to incorporate my Dad in the day as much as he was able to participate. All the kids sat down around Dad's grave marker (me: "ok kids, come sit on Grampa Bud's lap) and we took their picture.
Next, we went to the first house I remember living in. It is, surprisingly, a very small neighborhood on a cul-de-sac. It seemed so big back then. The house still has the pool that my parents built. I remember riding my bike all around that street. In and out of the neighbors' driveways and carports. No one cared about property boundaries. No one worried about staying out all day and playing until dusk. At the end of the street, there used to be a community garden. You would never know it now. It is dense woodland now. I remember seeing the tall corn growing. Harvesting it in the full summer sun. Also, potatoes, beans, and tomatoes. Summertime flavors.
Next we rode by the two rental houses (the first of which is the house pictured in the Siler City link) we lived in for 18 months or so while the house that my parents built was being completed. The white victorian was so cool. I could walk to and from my middle school. One of my classmates introduced me to the world of General Hospital (egads!). We only lived in the downstairs of that house. There were boxes of our stuff in the upstairs. My Dad liked using the upstairs bathroom each morning. He kept locking the door to the widow's walk every day. Mom swears she didn't unlock it after he went to work. My sister remembers a "presence". I was oblivious. I remembered the way the paper tops covered the milk bottles that the milk man delivered each week. The clink of the bottles in the aluminum holder. The way the sun shone brightly into the breakfast room. The enormous banister of the stairs. The faint smell of cat urine that the previous owner's pet left behind.
The next rental house...away from town. Our first exposure to the term "rural". It looks nothing like it did back then. I remember the maple kitchen cabinets and the huge screened in garage. The apple trees. We got a horse that year. I tried and tried and tried to learn how to do a cartwheel in that backyard. Near the persimmon tree. Mmmm... another food memory: my Mom's persimmon pudding.
We ventured even further past cowpastures and chicken farms and down the long, gravel driveway to the house that they built. A little scary, going down someone's private drive. There it was. Looking better than ever. The homeowners met us at the driveway. I got out to let them know we were merely on a nostalgic trip. They were the new owners. They had just taken a break from bringing the place back to life. The previous (second) owners had let the place fall in disrepair. Ivy coverd the entire porch and was coming into the front doors and windows. (I remembered a dream I had recently where I was back in that house and someone was trying to break into the front. I couldn't shut the front door or either of the front windows. Odd.) They were so excited to meet us. They remarked how well built the house was. "It had to have been sturdy to withstand all the neglect from those folks." he said. She said, "We're getting married in the grove of trees in the front of the property (which was a horse pasture lo those many years ago) on Saturday! We're racing around like mad to get the place ready for our happy day." Sweat equity. What joy!
Before we left to go back to Mom's current house - 2 hours away - I rode past all the schools I went to. The beautiful old Paul Braxton with its long halls grounded by shiny wood floors, a forgettable middle school and then my high school. Seems like three lifetimes ago. A whole 'nuther set of memories.
What a feeling of being right with the world that day was. A feeling of being complete. The day sorta gave me a "do de do dee" moment. Wednesday was the kind of day that you would want to have before you died. Y'know how they say a person's life flashes before their eyes before they die. It was that. Only better.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
one week down, one to go
The Ashe County Cheese field trip was the coolest thing ever. I even got the t-shirt! Let me also add that their cheese is divine.
King leaves tomorrow to head home and the kids and I will stay another week here. Gonna go see my "bruddah" and "sistah" on Wednesday.
I am praying that the Lord will protect hubby while he travels and be my source of strength this upcoming week in dealing with the kiddos.
King leaves tomorrow to head home and the kids and I will stay another week here. Gonna go see my "bruddah" and "sistah" on Wednesday.
I am praying that the Lord will protect hubby while he travels and be my source of strength this upcoming week in dealing with the kiddos.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
check this out
King, my mom, and I have been sharing a bottle of wine on the deck each night. This is some that my aunt gave to Mom as a gift. Check out the name of this particular brand. How cool is that?!?! I think it needs to be the official beverage of my blog. It also reminded me to tell Mom that I had a blogspot. I don't think she knows what that is.
expect the unexpected
We are in NC visting my Mom. We really want to give the kids a lot of out of the ordinary experiences while we are here. Today we went to Old Salem and though we weren't able to do the full tour, we were able to do the Toy Museum and Children's Museum. The kids had a blast and #4 and #5 were real troopers. The Children's Museum had authentic colonial dress ups and lots of other fun stuff. We waved our little hand-held sized American flags and bought little Moravian star Christmas tree ornaments.
We are going to take a picnic on the Blue Ridge Parkway tomorrow. Probably fried chicken and fresh fruit salad. One of the days during our two weeks here, we want to go to a local cheese maker. I know that is odd - going to see cheese being made - but I am all about doing something totally unexpected.
We are going to take a picnic on the Blue Ridge Parkway tomorrow. Probably fried chicken and fresh fruit salad. One of the days during our two weeks here, we want to go to a local cheese maker. I know that is odd - going to see cheese being made - but I am all about doing something totally unexpected.
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