Tag Archives: kids

Early Christmas

(originally started writing this Nov 25th)

Last summer my Dad bought Anthony an old car that we thought was going to need a lot of work, but turns out it just needed oil. :-) Anyway, since Anthony didn’t have his license yet and we didn’t really have the money to fix up the car, it’s been in our driveway for over a year.

But now that Anthony has his license, we figured it was time to get his car going. (‘Cause we were already tired of hearing, “Mom, can I borrow the car?”) So in talking with my Dad, we agreed to divvy up the cost of making that happen and count it as Anthony’s early Christmas present. Dad took care of paying for the tags/registration, while Zale and I took care of getting all that done and paying for Anthony’s insurance til the end of the year. (Up until now he’s been responsible for paying the extra cost to add him to our policy as a driver.)

So one cold morning a few weeks ago I ventured out with Reagan to make all that happen while Anthony and Hannah were in school. We waited in one line, then got the emissions tested (Passed thankfully!!), then back in another line to finish up the tags. Then I even went into the High School to get his parking pass and went one step further and filled up the car with gas. Whew, what a morning! Thankfully I was able to get it all done before Anthony was out of school for the day so I handed him his new license plate and parking pass when I picked him up from school. A nice little surprise for him, he wasn’t expecting it so soon. It was great to see his smile!

At some point that morning I realized I had forgotten a crucial step, to call and add the vehicle to our insurance policy. Oops. But by the next day that was taken care of too.

So I’m not sure, but I’m guessing this might have been his best Christmas yet. At least I hope so. :-) I’m thankful to have another 10 years or so before having to do all that again with Hannah and Reagan!

Merry Christmas everyone!

on the way to school

This morning it was still dark outside when Hannah and I left to take her to school. It had been raining most of the night and since we have to leave before 7, the sun didn’t have a chance to shine through the clouds yet. Hannah was not too thrilled to be out when it was still dark and offered this suggestion:

“Mom, if you let me go back to sleep for just a little bit, I bet the sun would come out and then it would be time for school.”

It reminded me of when she was probably three and her favorite saying in the morning was “The sun is up, the dark is down!! Time to get up!” And even better was the time that she told me she had to go to sleep so the sun could come up again.

But back to this morning, I was relieved that she accepted my explanation that we have to get her to school at a certain time, whether or not the sun was up. And thankfully she got out of the car at school without further complaint. :-) I know I’m biased since she’s mine, but she’s so stinkin’ cute and such a sweetie, it just makes my heart hurt sometimes! I’m so blessed to have such wonderful kids!

The Fork

With the girls, going out to eat is always a bit challenging for me. Especially in a place like Kabuto’s. Even though Hannah and Reagan are becoming much more independent, you put them in an unfamiliar place and they’d rather sit on my lap (at the same time) than in a chair of their own.

I’m not sure how long ago, but it’s been quite awhile, maybe even last year, we were eating at Kabuto as a family. If I remember correctly, it was during a “fire show” at the Hibachi grill that one of the girls crawled into my lap. With all the up and down, in and out of my lap, things are bound to find themselves falling from the table onto the floor, or into my purse.

I usually keep my purse at my feet instead of hooked on the back of my chair because I’m a little paranoid of someone grabbing it.  And I usually keep it open for easy access. As a result, when I got home that night, I discovered a fork from the restaurant in my purse. I was too embarrassed to just take it back and say something like, “I promise I didn’t mean to steal it!”. My intent was just to sneak it back on the table the next time we ate there. I didn’t want to keep it in my purse, so I just put in our silverware drawer in a separate slot from the rest of our forks until we went back to the restaurant.

Of course,  we ate there quite a few times and I would always forget about the fork until I was eating or we had gotten back home again. The thought of mailing it back to them crossed my mind, but that seemed a bit much. So last week, my neighbor (who’s one of the best people I know, by the way) and I went to lunch together, at Kabuto, and I finally remembered to take the fork with me.

I was trying to be sneaky about it so I wouldn’t be too obvious. I also wanted to do it soon after we got there so I wouldn’t forget again. (Which was a good possibility)  I tried to hide the fork in my hand to place it back on the table. And of course, as soon as I go to put it on the table, the server walks up for our drink order. I probably looked guilty at that point, because even though I was trying to do something right, I still felt like I was doing something wrong.

Kinda like when I go to buy the real Sudafed behind the counter at the pharmacy because the meth makers had to ruin it for the rest of us. And while having to show my drivers license and give my blood type to buy a $5.00 box of sinus relief, in the back of my mind I’m wondering if people are judging me. Not that it really matters, it’s just how I feel.

Anyway, I finally succeed in putting the fork back on the table (unnoticed, I think), and then zipped up my purse so it wouldn’t happen again!!! Ah, the adventures we’d never have if not for motherhood!!

Dance time!!!

Reagan and Hannah showing off some new moves

Zale’s Mom, Yeolanda, was very generous and offered to put the girls in dance classes. I jumped at the opportunity since I’ve wanted them to take dance for a long time. Well, Hannah anyway, Reagan is probably just now old enough. Gran Gran (Yeolanda) also paid for their new outfits & shoes, which the girls couldn’t wait to wear and didn’t want to take off. :-) Their first class was last night, they can’t wait to go back!

They’ll be learning ballet, tap, and tumbling. It was so cute to watch them learn, and I think they both have quite a talent for it. Especially tumbling. They were learning front flips, back flips, and somersaults. It was all the girls could do to contain themselves from pushing to the front of the line.

There was one little girl who really took to Reagan, she kept trying to hug her and help put her in the correct formations. But Reagan was a bit unsure of things anyway since it was all so new, I was glad she didn’t screech at her like she’s been known to do.

Reagan and her "little helper"

The girl’s didn’t have their ballet outfits until after the first class, so it’s easy to tell them from the rest of the little girls. Reagan’s in the pink and black, Hannah’s in the purple.

first tap class

Reagan in action

Hannah's lovin it!

I can’t wait to see what they learn next week!! Thanks again Gran Gran!!! I have high hopes that they’ll enjoy these classes for a long time!

First day of school

Anthony and Hannah

Friday morning, August 6th, 2010 was Hannah’s first day of Kindergarten and Anthony’s first day of his last year of High School. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through the last couple of weeks. School shopping, registrations, and the dreaded (for me, anyway) first day of school. My Dad was late for work that day, as he took time out of his morning to drive up and go with me to take Hannah to school.

Hannah and Granddaddy

As we’re walking into the school, Hannah is between us holding both our hands and jumping and swinging, giggling and laughing as I’m doing my best to hold back my tears. It took everything I had to not break down and cry. Dad was such a huge support and I’m so glad he was there!!! We signed in at the office, got our visitors stickers so we could walk her to class. I think her teacher is going to be great, she took a picture of the three of us for a scrap book. Hannah found her seat with her name on it and was ready for her first day. We left as the bell was ringing, not a tear from her, but I continued to fight the tears, all day. We got back home and Dad and I tried to talk Anthony into letting us take him to school too. We even offered to walk him into his home room class, but he wasn’t buying it.

Anthony and Granddaddy

Thankfully the first day for Hannah was only three hours long. I left early to try to be one of the first in line to pick her up. She got in the car and I asked how she liked it, the first thing she said was, “can I come back tomorrow?” I think that’s a good sign!!

I figured we needed to celebrate Hannah’s first day, so I took the girls to McDonald’s and let them have ice cream for lunch and play on the play place. Hannah wanted to go to the new ice cream shop in town, but they weren’t open at 10:30 in the morning. I think the day went as well as it could have, and I’m slowly getting use to the idea of Hannah being at school. Because they ease the Kindergartners into it, she won’t go back to school til later in the week. So it’s nice to get a few more full days with my girls before the full school routine starts. And I’m good with that!!

Hannah and Reagan, all ready for a treat at McDonald's

she’s going to be just fine

This morning (I guess I should say yesterday morning since it’s technically tomorrow, I just haven’t slept yet so it still feels like today) Hannah and I made our way to her new school to meet her new teacher in her new classroom where she will spend many hours in the very near future.

I admit it, I was more scared than she was, especially since she was so excited. And I really tried to play that up. I tried very hard to not let her see my emotions so she wouldn’t think something was wrong.  And I made it, I didn’t cry in front of her. Although, at one point while we were in her classroom I had to stop talking and gather my wits before I became a blubbering idiot in front of her, her teacher, and another family that was in the classroom at the time.

Hannah and I explored her new room and she just took in everything. She found her chair with her name on it and her cubbie for all her supplies. She named off all the colors that were on the wall, counted the numbers (except for seventeen, she wants to call that eleventeen…we’re working on it) up to twenty, and read off the ABCs.  I think she was determined to have real school today even if it was just registration. I took pictures of her in her chair and standing by one the stations. I even took a picture of her in the car before I backed out of the driveway.

Friday will be even worse, cause I’ll be taking pictures of her and Anthony. He’ll be starting his last year of high school as she starts her first year of school. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to do this. I want to stop time and just hug them and cuddle them and not let go. Reagan too, of course. But I know I have to let go. I know that this is a good thing for her and that she’s going to make lots of friends. I know she’s going to be just fine. Me on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. I’m discovering that I can only live in denial for so long…and I think my time is about up.

School Days

Is this really possible? Does time really have to go by this quickly??? In a very short while we will be going through two major milestones for our family. First, Anthony will be starting his senior year in high school. Really?? While I’m pondering how the time was able to get away from me like that I’m reminded that Hannah will be starting Kindergarten at the same time. Not quite sure I’m ready to handle all these changes at once!

Now I realize these things are necessary and have to happen. Doesn’t mean I have to like it! Zale often reminds me of what Bill Cosby said, something about the goal being to get the children grown and out of the house before we die. ha. ha. It’s not near as amusing when it’s your own kids coming closer and closer to moving out!

Life as I’ve known it over the last five years is about to drastically change. Now comes the mornings of waking up not one, but three kids, and starting a whole new family routine. With Anthony it’s somewhat easy, wake him up and let him do his thing. But with Hannah it’s going to be a whole different story. Things will be different for Reagan too as she gets use to not being around Hannah every minute of the day. Everything is changing, and I know it has to, I’m just not looking forward to so much change happening at one time. We’ll adapt though, we always do!

Now if I can get get over crying every time I look at Hannah’s schedule, and see the list of all the other names of little ones in her class, that hopefully she will develop friendships with to last a lifetime!

Yesterday Anthony, his girlfriend, best friend, and I went shopping with my Dad for Anthony’s school clothes. Dad was so generous and paid for everything.  (Thank you Dad!!!) Anthony got some great clothes and we had a good time shopping and laughing together. Next weekend it will be Hannah’s turn. She has enough clothes but there’s two pages of supplies that she’ll need for Kindergarten. So many that the teacher actually e mailed and said to bring the supplies on registration day in a trash bag labeled with their names on it. Dad has offered to take care of that too, so another fun shopping trip, this time with Hannah, Dad and I.

Ready or not, school, here we come!

from the girls

Earlier today I was getting lunch for the girls, here’s the short conversation with Reagan.

Me: Reagan, do you want a peanut butter sandwich?

Reagan: No, just peanut butter

Me: Peanut butter on bread?

Reagan: No, just peanut butter

Me: Peanut butter on a spoon?

Reagan: YESSSSS

A little while later Hannah said:

“When I grow up I’m going to marry someone good like Daddy.”

Just precious, but she’s still just 4 and already talking about getting married. I may have to put a stop to her watching all the princess “happily ever after” movies.

unburdened

About a year ago I was told that my Mom’s second husband (I’ll call him Jack) was dead. This brought about unexpected emotions. This was not a good man, at least not 26 years ago when Mom was married to him. He was very controlling, verbally abusive along with being abusive in other ways, and used religion to back up his actions. I’ll spare you more details. Anyway, if I wanted to be bitter about it, it would be very easy to do. But I’ve spent my life working on getting over what this man did to me and Mom, and the impact that made on the rest of our family.

In being a follower of Christ I’m a huge believer of this scripture, taken from BibleGateway.com:

Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV)

12“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 13Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. 14And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

For me, even though I know this verse to be true, it’s still one of the hardest things for me to follow. Because my human nature wants “Jack” to suffer for what he put us through.  Almost like Jonah got mad at God after saving the Ninevites. But through my relationship with God, I know that this man is loved by God just as much as God loves me. And I know that no matter what “Jack’s” sins are, he can still experience God’s love, mercy, and Grace.

Back to last year, I found it odd to hear that “Jack” had died. I guess I always thought that one day I would see him or talk to him one more time, tell him off, maybe even cuss him out, or tell him that I do forgive him. I know, quite a range of emotions there. Out of curiosity I did a few internet searches to see if I could find his obituary. There wasn’t one to be found. I enlisted Zale’s help (he loves to do research) and we found a phone number that was just a year or two old, and an address. The phone number was a dead end, so I figured the address was too. By asking  friends who still live in the same area, we found out that he was still alive and doing well. So for the last year, on and off, I’ve been looking for another way to contact him.

A couple of weeks ago, after doing more searches on line for a current phone number or address, I came across his brother’s information (I’ll call him Mike). So I said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, made the phone call and left a message on voice mail. I even told “Mike” that he could give “Jack” my phone number and/or e mail address. When I didn’t hear anything back for a few days I figured it was another dead end and kind of put it out of my mind.

Last week, my phone rings early in the morning (or early for me anyway) and it was an Arkansas area code. I’m still in contact with several people there (it’s where I grew up) and figured it was one of them. I was still too sleepy to talk to anyone, so I let it go to voice mail. A few hours later, with Hannah sitting on one side of me and Reagan on the other, as well as my laptop on my lap, I listened to the voice mail. And almost dropped the phone when I heard “Jack’s” voice. “MIke” had given him the message and he was calling me back. I was absolutely stunned. The first thought that went through my head was “Why in the world did I start this? What did I want to say to him again?” My mind went blank and my mouth went dry. I came very close to having my first ever panic attack that day. I realized that I no longer had a clue what I wanted to say to him or how to react. Even though I started this, I suddenly felt completely caught of guard and unprepared.

I let Zale know what had happened so he could start praying, and called my Dad (other than Zale, my biggest source of support), and then my Mom. I also sent out an e mail to three ladies that I knew would start praying for me right away, and then went about my day. I decided I wasn’t going to call him back surrounded by kids and the other daily activities that go on around here. I didn’t want to be distracted during the call. “Jack” called my phone three more times during the day, but didn’t leave any more messages.

That evening I went to get some groceries, had been praying and read the Bible for a while to get prepared. After listening to some praise and worship music in the car, I finally felt prepared to call “Jack” back. It was the weirdest conversation I’ve probably ever had, but in the end, I told him that I had truly forgiven him. It wasn’t a real deep or detailed conversation, but he said that he appreciated it.

All the mixed emotions I had been feeling all day finally went away. I was numb for a couple of hours, but after that I realized that my anger and need to “let him have it” had gone away. I’m sure there will be times that I’ll still struggle with those parts of my childhood, but for now, I feel unburdened. And that’s a huge blessing.

Kitchen Nightmare

Wednesday night I took a couple of girls from our life group and met a good friend from church at an elderly lady’s house to help her with some things before her inspection (she lives in government housing). We split up the duties to maximize our time there. The girls helped sort through a closet and a few other things, my friend was sent to the store for some groceries, and I was tasked with cleaning the oven. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’ve never cleaned an oven before in my life. EVER. But, at first look I didn’t think it was really going to be an issue. It looked pretty clean to me. But I’ve learned that clean is a relative term.

While showing me what needed to be clean (with a flashlight), Ms X was telling me that she thought the oven door should come off to make cleaning easier. Since I didn’t think the oven was that bad I told her I thought I’d work around it. But after getting in there with a FLASHLIGHT at Ms X’s instance, I discovered there was going to be more to it than I originally thought. It may have been easier if I had been allowed to use a cleaner designed for ovens, but she was worried about the chemical smell, so I was armed with some generic Simple Green cleaning spray and generic soap scrubbing pads. I may have well been using water and a sponge. The task just got  A LOT harder!

So after much elbow grease and time I was finally able to see some improvement, but getting to the back wall of the oven was proving to be a problem. I just couldn’t get enough leverage to scrub the gunk off. So I figured I’d go ahead and take off the oven door since Ms X had made the point to bring it up in the first place, for her that usually means she wants you to it.

It made a horrible racket when I took off the oven door, and I knew right away putting the door back on was going to be a problem, but I figured it was made to come off, there had to be a way to put it back on. Well, there was, but it was more than I could do alone.

So two hours later, oven is finally clean, rinsed and dried. I made a few attempts to get the door back on with the help of my friend, but saw pretty quickly that it wasn’t going to happen. So I called Zale, who came to my rescue. Did I mention he had been working all day and then push mowed most of our 1/2 acre worth of yard?  Thankfully Anthony was able to watch the girls.  Another two hours later, after taking the oven door apart and the side panels off the oven, Zale was able to get the door back on and everything put back in it’s place. My hero!

So just a bit of friendly advice, if someone tells you the oven door is supposed to come off when cleaning the oven, ignore them. Crawl inside of the thing if you have to, but do not, ever, take off the door! I’m sure I’ll be able to look back at this experience one day and laugh, but for now it’s still too soon. Maybe when our wounds heal and the bruises fade, it will be easier. Happy cleaning everyone!