From North of Here

Carded

2008-12-08T22:44:00-05:00

During High School my AP Lit teacher brought in a box. He explained for the previous 30 something years he designed his own Christmas cards. The truth of the matter was that he didn't "believe" in Christmas - I'm not sure why he used hand parenthesis when he stated that to us, but he did - so he created his own Holiday Cards. Well, I "believe" in Christmas, but I loved the idea of creating ones own cards. I filed that away with things to do with my own family one day.

Ten years later I told Chris we were going to make our own cards. He seemed to like that idea and he created the first one, a photo of an evergreen tree. Since then the creation of the Christmas card is something we start working on around Halloween - the idea, the concept, the how and the why of it. This year, however, I started thinking it's a pain.

It's a pain because we have to come up with an idea, we have to make the kids participate, we have to have them printed. And it's not cheap. I decided this year we were going to buy cards at Wal-Mart.

Like all time saving, easy, economical ideas I have, this one ran into a problem. My mom.

"What's your Christmas card this year?" She asked over the phone.

"Whatever is on sale at Wal-Mart."

Silence. The thing is when there's silence on that other end of the phone, it means my mother is trying to come up with a way to tell you what you're doing is stupid. She doesn't just come out and say "That's stupid". She words it in nice, supportive, motherly persuasion.

"But, you know, people look forward to getting your cards." She says.

"Who?" I ask, knowing full well the only person on earth who collects these cards is her. Everyone else tosses them at the end of the season with all of the other cards. No one keeps Christmas cards.

"Lots of people." She says after a while.

"Name three." I say. I'm smiling because I know she can't.

"I do." She admits.

I get off the phone with her and sketch out the card design. I tell Chris. We get the props ready. We buy hay. We turn the garage into a photo studio. We move ladders, cameras, drop cloths. Then we take a deep breath and prepare for the work ahead.

Problem 1: Gigi doesn't want to change clothes. Too bad. We explain she has to do as we tell her for the Christmas card.
Problem 2: Chris and I move a large wood planter filled with dirt, strawberry plants, and mint from the backyard to the garage. It's heavy. I have back strain.
Problem 3: Chris opened the hay and started setting up the props. Immediately Chris, Will, and I start sneezing and can't quit. Will's eyes start swelling. Will can't breathe. We have to break for a breathing treatment.
Problem 4: Field mouse living in the wood planter runs out wondering why his house has moved. Gigi sees it and wants to keep him.
Problem 5: Gigi doesn't want to cooperate. Gigi wants hot chocolate and wants to hold the blanket that we're using as a prop. Hostile negotiations take place to get child card model to cooperate.
Problem 6: Will decides since he's "being professional" he should get paid by way of allowance increase because he's not causing problems and Gigi is. He begins contract negotiations.
Problem 7: All negotiations are set, photographer gets ready.... Batteries in the flash are dead. Quick break.

Eventually we got the cards made. Next year we're buying cards and Will can color a special card for Mom.

Frantic

2008-10-06T21:36:56-05:00

For three weeks our home has been visited. It's an evening visitor that none of us want here. It arrives just around 9 pm and shows up all night long. It's a stomach virus. Everyone else in the family has fallen victim to it. There have been sickly assaults on our carpets. I've done an obnoxious amount of laundry. And through it all the thing I have come away with is that the next time we build a house there will be bathrooms located in the far reaches of the house since the kids are obviously having a hard time making it to a trash can, tile, or toilet. Also I will not go for the nearly white carpet. No. Next time I'm getting a dark carpet - I don't care if it "closes the room in".

Husband and kids are down for the count. They are medicated and put in beds snuggling trash cans and lying on top of the only sheets I haven't had to throw away - yet. I'm cleaning the house. Yes. I'm dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scouring, laundering. Mostly because I'm trying to stay so busy the virus can't get to me - like if I move around enough, if I stay active it won't attach itself. And partially because I figure once I do get sick it would be nice to know the house is clean - dusted, mopped, folded and packed up, and no dirty dishes or dirty oven. There might be some ray of happiness to be found if I get sick and I know my refrigerator and pantry are neat, clean, and tidy.

Mostly though, I'm multi-tasking while on hands and knees cleaning the baseboards. As long as I'm on hands and knees praying that I don't get sick like the rest of them, I might as well have clean baseboards too.

"FUN"draising.

2007-08-30T22:00:00-05:00

On the second day of school he came home with a PTA fundraiser. I want to stress here that I am pro-teacher, pro-education, and pro-parental involvement. Just want to make that disclaimer. I’m all about a good education. It’s the foundation of life. I’m all about foundations too. We value education and foundations strongly in our family. I respect parents, teachers, education, and foundations. Let’s get that out there.

I read through the brochure. It gets pledges for him to walk laps. Walk laps during the school day. Not during recess. Not after school. Not on the weekend. They will be walking laps during the school day.

Problem number 1 – I sent my kid to public school to learn to read and add. He already knows how to walk. He figured that out years ago. All on his own. So this fundraising activity is going to take place during the time when he would be practicing his letters or doing math. Instead of doing that, he’ll be walking around the parking lot. He’ll be getting paid to walk around the parking lot. Why can’t he get people to pledge him for academic achievement – so much money donated for As, Bs, Cs? Or how about pledging him per book read?

Problem number 2 – I’m all about parental support. I believe reading to your child and helping them find the joy in learning is a privilege for a parent, not a chore. I’m for parents doing all they can to support educators, even financially. That’s why I pay taxes. That’s why I bought school supplies. That’s why if they asked me today to bake a million cookies for a bake sale to help build extra classroom space I’d stay up for days baking. But soliciting my friends, co-workers, neighbors, and family for money to pay my son to walk (when he should be in the classroom learning) is not what I had in mind.

Problem number 3 – This money is going for a marquee sign in front of the school. “You know, to let parents know what is going on.” That was my explanation from a member of the PTA at my very first meeting. A marquee sign. “To let parents know what is going on.” I feel I know what is going on – they send e-mails, they send postal mail, they send fliers home. I never drive by the front of the school, so if something is not covered in the other three methods of communication (which I feel is environmentally and economically irresponsible since it is duplicated and also sent out electronically) I’m going to miss it anyway on the marquee. Marquees are for movie theatres. Why can’t this money be raised for educational technology? Why can’t this be used for educational field trips? How about building upon the current library holdings? Why not buy violins for an extensive Suzuki program? I’m desperately trying to determine how a marquee is going to help my son get into college with an academic scholarship.

I was about to raise my hand and suggest, humbly, to the PTA that we should consider getting a man dressed in a chicken suit to walk in front of the school as we are dropping off and picking up kids. He can carry a sign with an announcement, “CHECK YOUR E-MAIL FOR INFO”. A good sign might cost a couple hundred dollars. A man in a chicken suit is going to attract attention. And we’d only have to pay him for 5 days a week during the academic year and only for the times parents are dropping off or picking up kids. Maybe members of the PTA could volunteer a day to wear the suit for free. “It’s for your kids you know.”

As I was ready to give my solution and suggest we use the fundraising money for something educational, or for having kids do something educational (reading books, making good grades), I realized that having to go home and explain to my family that I’d been kicked out of the PTA on the first meeting was not something I wanted to do. Besides, Wilson really wanted to raise enough money to get a prize – a yo-yo spider that you needed to raise $150 for.

I went home and we solicited money from the family in Missouri. In just 5 minutes we had earned $325 dollars (symbolically from the family foundation business – get the poetic beauty here: education = foundation? Beautiful.) which will earn Will a prize of the spider yo-yo (estimated retail value - $1.75 at Wal-Mart) and a board game (estimated retail value - $9.99 at Wal-Mart). The marquee will be purchased I’m sure. I’m sure the spider yo-yo will break in three days time. I’m sure my child will learn to read, write, and add eventually. I’m also sure this will not be the last fundraiser I’ll be forced to hold in my true feelings about.

I’m not sure I won’t be kicked out of the PTA. Chris does a lot of things better than I do, and I really think this would be one of those things. PTAs like Team Players. PTAs do not like people who have worked in higher education for nine years and who know how to read educational statistics on standardized and achievement tests.

I’m just saying, if he doesn’t get into college I’ll make sure the admissions committee knows how many educational fundraisers we have under our belt. Maybe I’ll feel happier about selling wrapping paper in a few months.

The Anatomy of a Date

2007-04-05T12:20:12-05:00

We never go out on dates. But our friends wanted us to go out with them to celebrate their anniversary so we found a babysitter and planned for a lovely night out last Friday. We planned it all week and decided that we really ought to go out on dates much more often now that we had a great babysitter and good friends to go out with. It had such promise, but here’s how a plan and reality differ:

The Plan: Chris get home at 5 pm and get house straightened up for Babysitter. Jolene and kids arrive at 5:30. Jolene get dressed for first date since December, while Chris orders pizza for the kids. 6pm Babysitter arrives, give tour and detailed instructions. 6:30 leave house and drive to pick up other couple to go to Really Fancy Steakhouse for dinner reservations at 7:30.

The Reality:

Noon – Torrential downpour begins in North Texas.
4 PM – Jolene is stuck in a meeting.
4:30 PM – Jolene leaves meeting and rushes to attend kids’ Spring Fling at school which has already been going for 30 minutes. Wilson wants to do all of the events at Spring Fling, Reagan just wants to make a mess.
4:45 PM – Wilson says “Let’s just go home if she’s not going to behave!” while pointing at kid sister who is trying to eat the beads on the bracelet he is trying so hard to make. Angel teacher comes and takes Reagan around while Wilson and Mommy try to enjoy the rest of the event.
5:25 PM – Wilson is finally done, smiling, and Jolene realizes it’s going to be a close call to get dressed and leave at 6:30. But Jolene is at ease knowing Chris is already at home and can take care of sitter etc. while she gets dressed for the date.
5:45 PM – Jolene calls Chris to let him know she’s stuck in traffic because of torrential downpour. Chris says he is still in traffic, nowhere near being home.
5:47 PM – Jolene panics and Chris calls sitter to let her know if she gets to the house at 6 she will be the only one there.
5:58 PM – Jolene arrives home with kids in increasingly intense rain, lightening, wind, and thunder. Jolene and Wilson open door to utility room.
5:58:13PM – Wilson says “Something smells bad” while Jolene looks at mess on floor.
5:58:14PM – Jolene realized the 50 pound puppy has had “an accident” in her kennel. There is at least 4 liters of doggie mess all over the floor, kennel, wall, and all over 50 pound puppy.
5:58:15PM – Reality hits that Chris is at least 20 minutes from home. Jolene sees 4 liters of doggie mess cleaning in her immediate future. Wilson announces he’s going “to puke!” Jolene instructs Wilson to take Reagan up to the game room and not look back. Ever. Wilson obeys quickly.
6 PM – Jolene gets dogs outside. Starts to clean the path of doggie mess paw prints on the floor. Smell is overwhelming. Jolene realizes purchasing a house with an open floor plan is a great idea until one introduces 4 liters of doggie mess stench into the open floor plan. Entire first floor smells rancid. Jolene lights two candles and has an epiphany that those two candles are an exercise in futility.
6:05 PM – Jolene starts to clean 4 liters of doggie mess.
6:06 PM – Jolene begins to realize that she is cleaning doggie mess in the shirt she was planning to wear to the date. Jolene takes off shirt and rolls up jeans (which she will not be wearing on the date). Jolene proceeds to clean 4 liters of doggie mess in bra, rolled up jeans, and barefeet.
6:08 PM – Doggie mess gets to Jolene who throws up in trash can.
6:09 PM – Doorbell rings. Wilson is instructed to answer. Wilson lets in Babysitter. Jolene yells from around the corner that Babysitter should try not to breathe and to go directly up to the gameroom. Wilson announces “My Mom is cleaning up poop in her underwear”. Jolene realizes this will be the last time she will be able to get someone to babysit.
6:15 PM – Jolene is starting to make real progress on the doggie mess.
6:20 PM – Jolene allows the “clean” dog and the cat back inside. 50 pound puppy is told to stay outside. Hurricane style downpour is going on outside. 50 pound puppy looks sad. Jolene doesn’t care.
6:30 PM – Jolene finally starts to get dressed for the date.
6:45 PM – Chris arrives home with pizza. Directions are given for the kids (“Do whatever you need to do, here’s our number, sorry about the smell.”)
6:48 PM – Jolene returns to give one more instruction to Wilson (“I don’t care if there is a tornado heading for the backyard, you don’t let that dog in here.” Wilson answers back “Acceptable loss.” Mother and son give each other thumbs up sign.)
7:00 PM – Chris and Jolene pick up friends and head to Really Fancy Steakhouse for friends’ wedding anniversary. Hurricane force rain picks up to become The Mother of All Storms.
7 – 7:25 PM – Chris shows his hydroplaning skills to Jolene and friends. All are amazed. All begin praying for the Toyota to keep from getting stuck on flooded streets.
7 – 7:25 PM – God answers prayers of Jolene who has had a rough day and shows mercy to she who has not been on a date in many months and who has spent the evening cleaning 4 liters of the world's nastiest doggie mess up. Jolene is grateful for the mercy.
7:28 PM – Chris, Jolene, and friends arrive at Really Fancy Steakhouse and think they may actually make the 7:30 reservation.
7:45 PM – Chris and Jolene, inside Really Fancy Steakhouse, decide dating is too much work. Conclude one date a year is probably fine.

Antibiotics R Us

2007-02-16T18:45:50-05:00

Finally after a week of feeling awful, I went to the doctor for Valentine's day. Bronchitis. Ear infection. Sinus infection. The doctor said I needed to go home and go to bed. I told him I was better off at work because I can't go home and go to bed, I have children who need me. He gave me antibiotics and I went back to work. After a Valentine's Day lunch with Kenneth and Lesley, I went back to work and got a phone call. Baby sick, running a fever.

I packed up and went to retrieve the children from school. Poor Wilson had to leave before his Valentine party. I called the pediatrician's office en route to our home. We got home, I put Reagan to bed, and the phone rang. Pediatrician. I got the baby up, dressed, loaded all of us back in the car and headed off to the doctor.

From the looks of the waiting room I can tell a lot of people are having the same kind of Valentine's Day that I am having. There are a lot of kids. A lot of sick kids. We see the pediatrician who gives me a new prescription for a new antibiotic to take care of Reagan. He looks about like how I feel. I told him I hoped he would have a good afternoon, he laughed. I felt really, really bad for him as we exited the office and a sea of sick kids waited. We go home and go to bed.

I wake up at 9 pm when Chris comes home. He has flowers, which he puts down and puts all three of us to bed. The next morning I wake up and check on the baby. She is lying in her own vomit. It's never a good way to start the day sick and then have to clean up vomit. I clean her up, we all lie back down.

The day didn't get much better when we realized all we had for lunch was two jars of peanut butter. Guess what - contaminated. That could explain why we were all so sick to our stomachs last week because we were eating peanut butter sandwiches every day for lunch. We made do with some noodles and toast.

Today there was no vomit, just some fevers and a very cranky baby. I have a dream that one day the antibiotics will work and we will dig out of this sickness. Here's hoping.

Mi Casa Influenza es Su Casa Influenza

2007-02-11T18:54:23-05:00

The neighborhood that Super Bowl parties together gets the flu together. We're down with the flu. Everyone.

Wednesday it hit me. Yes, I've had a flu shot. No, it didn't help. Yes, I want my money back. By the time Chris made it home Wednesday the kids and I were wrapped up shivering beneath several blankets. He fed us. He distributed medications. He tucked us in. Thursday he went to work (new job = no leave). During the day the boy and I did all we could to get fluids into the baby, keep her diapers clean, and rest. Thursday night Chris came home and took care of us. Friday afternoon Wilson and I put Reagan down for a nap and both crawled off to my bed to rest ourselves.

I wasn't aware how bad we looked or how bad we felt. I had my laptop with me and worked from home. Wilson and I had been wearing the same pajamas for a few days. Our noses are red from all of the blowing and wiping. Our throats hurt. Our ears hurt. We are freezing most of the time. We snuggled into our blankets with only our eyes peeking out at each other.

"Mommy."

"Yes."

"We're not doing good are we?"

"No, but Daddy will be home sometime and he'll help us."

"Mommy?"

"Yes."

"The house smells bad."

"I can't smell."

"It smells bad. And it hasn't been vacuumed. And the kitchen is dirty and everything is a mess."

"I know."

"We need help."

I tell him there is no help coming. The neighbors have the flu thanks to the Super Bowl party where the dip wasn't the only thing getting passed around. I have a suspicion that Reagan may have brought it to the party and then shared her sippy cup with her friend and thus infected the neighborhood. So far I haven't gotten any hate mail, but I think we're all too sick to send hate mail. Auntie Lesley's house has the flu so we can't have a lovely South African accented woman tending to us. We are on our own. Wilson's expression when I tell him we are on our own looks like a military commander who has just learned there are no reinforcements or provisions on the way during a losing battle. Welcome to influenza.

"Can I call Honey?"

I dial the phone and hand it to him. I hear my Mom answer the phone. Wilson skips over the pleasantries of greetings and just lays it out there for her:

"Mom, Reagan, and I are sick. The house smells bad. Really bad. We're wearing the same pajamas we wore yesterday and the day before that. We are sick Honey, really sick. We're dying and we need you to come help us."

Honey tells him she has the flu and can't come because she's sick. Wilson thinks for a minute, then says:

"Can I talk to Aunt Amber?"

Chris came home and took care of us. He changed our pajamas, he cleaned the kitchen. He fed us, medicated us, and put us to bed. When I woke up every hour to blow my nose or start coughing he got up with me. When I started shaking with a bad fever he went to get me another blanket.

Saturday he woke up and took the baby, who smiled for the first time in a week, downstairs and made waffles. He set Wilson and me up on the couches with rented movies and blankets. He kept fluids in us. Today he's done the same thing. And believe it or not, I can see the end of the flu. The baby is back to herself, Wilson is running around. I was able to clean up the house and do the laundry.

Chris really is the hero this week. The three of us are going to do something really nice for him when we're able to get out of the house. Probably just in time for him to get the flu...

Chez Miserables

2007-02-07T17:07:00-05:00

Monday Reagan was sent home from school with a little fever and a "runny tummy" as our dear Lesley puts it. I brought the kids home. Tuesday still more fever and a refusal of a sippy cup and any food we put in front of her - even mashed potatoes and she LOVES mashed potatoes. To cap Tuesday off the pediatrician's office called with the results of Reagan's routine blood work from her 1 year check up. Anemia.

Tuesday night she appeared better so today we headed back off to school. Finally I managed to get something for lunch when my phone rang. Reagan had a fever and more runny tummy. I packed lunch up and headed over to the kids' school to pick up Little Miss Infectious.

When I saw her I knew we needed to go to the doctor. Her eyes were matted. She was whimpering, She was extremely hot. I took her to Wilson's class to pick him up. It was his naptime. I walked over to where he was sleeping and gently shook him - so not to wake the rest of the class up. No go. I shook a little harder. I said his name "Wilson. Wilson. Wilson? WILSON!" No movement. His teacher came to lend a hand. She shook him, said his name. Nothing. Second teacher comes to help. No response. One of the teachers suggests carrying him out. She picks him up and he opened his eyes.

I took the kids to the campus doctor because A. it was right there, B. I couldn't get in touch with the pediatrician's office, and C. No checkbook but a campus debit card.

Her temperature was 104. She has the flu. She has an ear infection in each ear. She has a sinus infection. And a runny tummy. Two more days before we are out of the flu with her, which means next week it will be Wilson down with the flu.

On the way home I wondered how I could convince my Mom to come and stay with me. I'm tired of giving medicine, monitoring consumption of fluids, and holding whimpering children. Mom is much better at this than I am. And I may need to be held myself. But that's when it hit me that I'm on my own here. I am the mom.

Yesterday we were watching whatever was on TV and Nanny McPhee was showing. Normally I wouldn't have stopped to watch it, but there is nothing on during daytime tv. Nanny McPhee said "When you don't want me, but you need me, I'll stay. When you want me but don't need me, I'll go." And so it is with my Mom. She's there, on the phone whenever I call, but there is not here and I can't blame her. It's all runny noses, thermometers, scratchy throats, and crying here. I'd be there if I could choose. There's nothing sadder than a 30 year old who just wants her Mommy. Growing up stinks and I'm reminded of that several times each decade.

So I'm forcing fluids into the baby and trying to keep the boy entertained. There is some comfort knowing she has about 2 days left of the flu - just in time for big brother to get it and need comforting. I'm getting very tired thinking about it. I should lie down.

Welcome to Chez Miserables.

Lost

2006-06-02T09:37:56-05:00

My cat is gone. To the best of our knowledge she must have wandered out an open door sometime after dinner last night and this morning she is lost. I am sick over it. Sick. Worried. Sick.

We did the usual things - ran around the neighborhood calling for her, driving around looking for her, tearing apart the garage and closets just in case she was hiding out in the moving mess. Nothing. My cat "ran away". Yes, I know there are bigger problems in the world - war, poverty, illness, hunger - but still, my cat is gone and it's just all I can do to not imagine her in a terrible situation. My mom said to put some food outside and maybe she'll just show up. Maybe. But what if she doesn't? What will I do?

I found Camille in 1997 in a dumpster behind a frat house during a party. I took her home with me because she looked so sick and bad off that my intention was to give her a nice, warm, comfortable place to spend her last days. Those last days have gone on for the last ten years. She's a cuddle cat. She loves my children. She is a loving cat. And now she's gone. I realize I should be grateful for the ten years I had with her, but I'm finding it very hard to remain optomistic here. For one thing we didn't have her collar on her because the address information needed to be changed. There's the added complication that the cat simply does not know the new neighborhood and probably couldn't find her way back home. And, my biggest fear, what if she got out in the large open area behind us - where the coyotes are?

This is the second cat I've lost in a week. Peyton 2 - our outside kitty at the old home - stayed behind with the other family who has been taking care of her too. We couldn't just take her away when the other family also loved and cared for her. So we let her go. And she is fine with the other family - eating homemade, specialty tamales and relaxing to the sound of a mariache band. Camille, though, has only ever lived inside. With me. She isn't fit for outdoor life.

Wilson, I suppose in his way of trying to make me feel better, said "Let's get a new cat." And then he said "Why are you crying?" Because I don't want a new cat, I want my cat. And if I can't have my cat I don't ever want another one.

I've resisted saying "Why couldn't it have been that black dog?" because that's just not right... But you know, Camille never tore anything up. This shouldn't have happened. Not to the cat.

Moving isn't going as well as one would have thought.

Closing Arguments

2006-05-22T16:56:35-05:00

Our home building experience has been wonderful. There honestly hasn't been a moment when we thought "building was a mistake". We prepared for it - if you ever want to hear a funny homebuilding story you should talk to my brother and sister-in-law - but it really went up quickly, easily, painlessly. Until...

The closing date and time has changed about a billion times. Ok, not a billion, but it has changed around more than I would have liked. First we had to move it because we were going to close this Friday but there were people who wanted to go on vacation for Memorial Day, so we moved it up to Tuesday, then it all went bad. Between people at the builder and title company scheduling wrong days and times we were ready to give in. Then, finally, we had a day - Tuesday - and a time - 10 am. Worked for everyone, so we made arrangements at work, kids would be in school, scheduled the delivery of the fridge, set up the telephone installation, etc.

The title company called to push back the time last Friday. They said to come at 3, not at 10. They were "busy" at 10. They didn't have anyone to help us at 10. Normally we would have said "Great! See you at 3!" and gone about life without a second thought to pushing back our time. However, these were not normal circumstances.

To begin with we'd already made scheduling changes at work. We already were having the fridge delivered right around noon. We had things to do before 3 pm. And, there was the issue of the kids - there would be no way to get to closing, get that taken care of, and then sit in traffic coming back to Fort Worth in time to pick the kids up before late fees at school started accumulating. Then, to top it off, there is a T-Ball game tomorrow after work.

We explained the work conflict - they didn't care. We explained the utility dilemma - no go. We told them about the fridge delivery - no reaction. According to the title company, there was "no way" we could close earlier than 3. That was, until we pulled a Parent Poker move. We called their bluff.

I recalled the title company has a statement on their instructional packet. It says "Children may become restless during the time of closing, you will want to make arrangements for child care during this time." Polite way of saying "We don't want to deal with your kids in our office." Ah Ha! They exposed their weakness - they have an office full of people who do not like children. Parent Poker opportunity!

We formulated The Plan: Chris would call the title company and explain we had child care for the 10 am appointment. He would also explain that we were going to bring our kids with us - a 4 year old and an infant - to the 3 pm appointment. I was pretty sure I would bring leftover Easter candy for Will to eat on the drive to the title company. I was positive Reagan was going to need to eat, be tired, and there was an excellent chance she was going to have a dirty diaper. I was equally certain I would change this diaper right there in the middle of the appointment. Chances were also good that Will would have an asthma attack, requiring him to use his inhaler, which causes him to be a little nuts for 30 minutes after taking it. I was also pretty sure Chris and I were going to be too involved in signing our life away to make sure the kids weren't distracting anyone. We planned to bring one of Wilson's toys to keep him entertained - a toy gun that makes noise and has lights. It was going to be furnished with brand new batteries, just to make sure it wouldn't run out during the long signing process. Wouldn't want him to be there without a toy, you know.

Luckily they heard "no child care for the appointment at 3" and we didn't have to raise the stakes with the candy, hungry-tired-dirty baby, asthma attack, noisy toy hand. As soon as they heard we were bringing children to their offices, they suddenly remembered they had another staff member who was available at 10 am - if that fit into our schedules. Oh, we think we can make arrangements for that, since that was all we wanted in the first place - to keep the 10 am appointment on Tuesday we were originally scheduled for by their office.

I'm not impressed with the title company. Luckily we're almost done. Maybe.

Goodbye, Part II

2006-05-10T16:29:11-05:00

I received a call from Lesley last night. It would appear that, although DisneyWorld is the "happiest place on earth", it's not where you want to be when you find out how much freighting your overweight baggage will cost you. And it's also not going to help you when you see that because of rising fuel costs, airlines have lowered their baggage weight limits to try and conserve fuel. I'm all for conservation - just not when it comes to luggage that needs to go to the other side of the globe.

So. Lesley has to fly in tomorrow, decide what items she and the family cannot part with, put those items into two suitcases and give the rest away. She will then get on another plane, fly back to Florida, meet up with the rest of the family and start the travel back to Johannesburg.

It appears the Ponderosa is, in fact, contagious.

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

2006-05-06T17:32:00-05:00

For the last few weeks we have all been ignoring the elephant in the corner. No one wants to talk about it. No one wants to think about losing our friends. But it happens tomorrow.

Tomorrow is going to be a bad day. I can tell you that because we have to pick up our friends at 6 am with all of their belongings and take them to the airport. It's always a bad day when you take your friends to the airport with all of their belongings if they only have one-way tickets. To Africa.

We attended Kenneth's graduation on Friday. Chris and I have decided never to attend another graduation. It's just too hard to watch your friends move on while you stay behind. Chris tried his best to comfort me with a speech that was along the lines of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. It didn't help.

All we can do is look at pictures from the last three years and remember everything. But finally I just couldn't look at them anymore. I just would rather not. It hurts. You can look - they're in the photo album. So many memories, but right now I can't see anything but loneliness. Maybe it's because it's raining. Maybe when the sun comes out things will look better. Maybe not.

Tomorrow will be a bad day. Even if it's sunny..

Come Roll with Us

2006-04-18T09:32:40-05:00

So yesterday our electricity went out. Not unusual - the utilities in our neighborhood are not reliable. We have had un-interrupted water and electricity now since December, so we figured we were due. The power went out and we went through our "Utility Ponderosa" checklist: fuse box normal, outside box fine, neighbors' power also out. We call the utility company. And that's when the news came.

Rolling Blackouts.

It has been hot here. Sunday when we stopped for dinner in Waco on our way back to Fort Worth the thermometer in the car read 101. Yesterday at lunch the car thermometer read 104. Apparently everyone in Dallas-Fort Worth likes to use their air conditioner when the temperature reaches 100. Apparently this took the utility company off guard. They cut off power in areas for 15 minutes at a time to keep their "grid stable".

Forecast for today: 100 with rolling blackouts likely.

May - the Cruelest Month After April

2006-04-13T23:29:24-05:00

May is extremely terrible. Unlike April, May just always seems bad. We work in education, which is fine until you realize every May your friends graduate and move away. You come to know and love people - they become your family. Then they finish their coursework and leave.

It's not that our friends move across town. Our friends take moving seriously. They go all out with moving. They move to places like Iraq. Europe. China. South America. Africa. Jacksonville Florida. It's cruel. We know they have to go and leave us, but that doesn't make it any easier to stay behind while they go off into the world. Each May gets lonelier.

This May Kenneth, Lesley, Brandon, and Kerry-Lea are leaving us. They are going home to Johannesburg. While I am so excited for them to return home to their families, I can't help but think we won't have friends like these ever again. We've watched them grow up. They've been there for us. My children think they are family - and they are.

We took pictures at the gardens the other night. I've put them in the Album section. In August new students will arrive, but to be perfectly honest it's hard to make friends when you know they are just going to leave you in a few years. We're starting to have abandonment issues.

But, that's what the internet and blogs are for - so we can see what is going on in Iraq. Europe. China. South America. Africa. Jacksonville Florida.

We will miss our friends so much more than they know and so much more than even we know. They are such a beautiful family with such a love for each other. We've learned so much from them and May just seems a little too cruel this year.

A Good Day That Went Bad

2006-04-09T11:56:13-05:00

The day started off ok. We got up - Chris complained his stomach hurt, but he's been working through our mortgage and dealing with moving, so I didn't pay much attention - we got dressed, we headed off for the annual Easter Egg Hunt at school.

We took pictures of our kids, watched Wilson gather eggs, saw our friends, ate some snacks, and then we left. We came home, everyone took naps, I cleaned the house, and then started to cook dinner... That's when the marriage vows kicked in.

I've been through several stomach flus and two pregnancies, so when Chris excused himself from the dinner table, I knew what was going to happen. He had "the look". I put Reagan down and left Wilson in charge. Chris has done his part supporting me while throwing up, and I did say that whole "sickness and health" thing, so I got the cool washcloth and did what I could.

We got Chris all squared away and last night I fed Reagan. Thirty minutes later she threw up all over me. The nurse asked if it was spit up. I know spit up. I know the difference between spit up and being assaulted by a vomiting child. This wasn't spit up. And since her daddy had the same thing a few hours earlier, well, that's just too much to be a coincidence.

It started off as a really wonderful day. It's not that the end was bad - it just involved a lot of work and even more laundry. We've put pictures up of the "good" part of the day. They're located under "Egg Hunt".

We'll take the day and rest. Hopefully this was a short lived illness, and hopefully Chris and Reagan will be the only casualties.

The Art Museum Adventure

2005-12-29T20:40:00-05:00

PawPaw and Nana came to visit us for Christmas. Nana is a painter and we noticed a Gauguin exhibit at the Kimbell Art Museum. Perfect. Sounded like a great thing to do, right? Who doesn't like art? We all head out for Gauguin.

You've seen the children's/infant's Baby Einstein series - toys and videos that introduce your child to culture - music, art, language... I thought since those items are always on gift registries and everyone buys them up, kids must love them. And what is better than a video or a book about paintings? Art museums with the real thing, right?

Here's what I learned yesterday: art museums do not charge admission for children under the age of 5. Zoos charge admission for children ages 2 and up. Know why? They aren't going to charge you for something that a child has no interest in. Wilson didn't care that this is the one stop on the American Gauguin tour. He didn't care that he was seeing renowned masterpieces of paintings and sculpture. We walked in and he was ready to leave. Either he's not into Gauguin or he's just not into impressionists... Maybe he's a modern art kind of three year old...

We all tried engaging him in the art: "What colors are these flowers?" "What kinds of animals are in this picture?" " What is your favorite piece?" No good. His response to everything was either "Can we go home now?" or "I need some gum." So much for culture.

In all the art was amazing and I think we all had a good time (at least, whomever wasn't stuck with Wilson on a bench had a good time). Lesson here is that if you don't have to pay to get them in, it's just better to leave them at home.

Not Exactly a Transportation Strike...

2005-12-21T16:36:00-05:00

Chris took Kenneth, Lesley, and kids to the airport this morning for their trip. He left the house before anyone else was up. I woke up, got Wilson up, got us dressed. We watched the news - the coverage of the transportation strike in NYC. I was impressed with the commuters' fortitude. They were walking. "You gotta do what you gotta do" one pedestrian said. That's right I thought.

I was impressed, because we left the house at 7:50. Plenty of time to leisurely drive to work. We stepped out the front door, I shut it behind me and then I noticed there was no car in the driveway. No car on the street either. No transportation. There was a car, tucked safely in the garage, but here's the thing - we have 2 keys to our house, Chris has one (on his way to DFW airport) and Lesley has the other because she used it to feed the pets while we were gone (also on the way to DFW airport). I have a cell phone, I just never carry it with me. So... Weighing our options here:

Break in.
Go next door and wake up the neighbors.
Sit down and hope Chris eventually comes home.
Live like the New Yorkers and hoof it.

We start walking. It's not too far and, remembering the news from the day "You gotta do what you gotta do." It's one mile from our house to work. It takes 3 minutes to drive, so, I figure it should only take us 10 to walk it...

My calculations were a little, well, off. The thing is that none of the people featured on the news are in week 33 of a 40 week pregnancy. None of these people had a three year old in tow. He's been sick. I bundle him tight in his coat so all you can see are his dark eyes. In his left hand he is clutching his beloved "doggy with spots" and he's holding my hand with his right. He's doing ok - until we get to the end of our street.

"Let's go home and get the car."

"Can't. It's in the garage and I don't have a key."

"Daddy has a key."

"Daddy's at the airport and he doesn't know we need in. Besides, this is fun. Walking. This is healthy exercise."

"I hate exercise."

We make it to another block.

"You can carry me."

"No, I can't. This is fun. People are doing the same thing in New York right now."

"I need to sit down."

"Just keep going."

We turn north and trudge on.

"That's just great! Now there's mud!"

"It's not mud. That's dirt."

"Mud IS dirt, Mom."

"It's fine. Keep walking."

We head east.

"I'm sick. I should be in bed."

"No, you have allergies. I gave you medicine. It will start working. Besides, walking is healthy. It will keep you from getting sick so much."

"It's just too far. It keeps going and going."

"This is a fun adventure. Just like the people in New York are having."

"I'm going to wait here. You go on ahead."

"I can't leave you here!"

"You go on ahead." He's whining now. He has stopped. He walks to the curb.

"You're coming with me. Let's get going."

"I'm just going to wait here."

"For what?! You're coming with me. You never leave a man behind."

"I can't make it."

We keep going. I distract him by mentioning his class Christmas party. Stewart will be waiting for him. Lucy will be waiting for him. He can't let Stewart and Lucy down - they are waiting for him. We have to keep going.

"Look, I can see the big dome. We're almost there."

"I think we should go home."

"No, we shouldn't. It's farther to go home than go on to school."

"It's too cold out here. I'm sick. I think I'm going to throw up."

"You're not. You're fine. You have allergies."

I coax him the rest of the way, wondering where on earth a three year old learns to be such a quitter. I make a note that we're going to have to work on his disaster and problem solving skills.

I march his royal pessimist into school. I tell him we should be proud. We didn't use any gasoline. We are prepared for any transportation strikes. We are doing what we gotta do. We are survivors. Lucy and Stewart will be proud. There will be cheering and hugs because he has made it, walking to school from our house.

His teacher meets us at the door - "Lucy and Stewart have strep throat. Since Wilson plays with them all the time, you might want to keep an eye on him..." He looks up at me. Only his eyes are showing through the small opening in the coat hood. The eyes are glaring at me. It is 8:15. The three minute, one mile trip has taken this very pregnant woman and sick preschooler nearly thirty minutes... So I waddle and he drags a 30 minute mile.

"I told you I was sick and you didn't listen to me. You made me walk. This is Texas."

He lets me take his coat off and he staggers away to the couch. No hug. No goodbye. No "thanks for not leaving me on the sidewalk." No "thanks for keeping me going and pushing me to the goal"... As I get to my office, Chris calls. If we had just waited at home for 5 minutes, we would have gotten a ride, and we would have gotten to school faster than we actually did. "You gotta do what you gotta do" and sometimes what you gotta do is sit on your rear and wait for the calvary to arrive.

You Can't Go Home Again

2005-11-21T07:31:00-05:00

Thomas Wolfe wrote You Can't Go Home Again. I thought I knew what this piece of work meant: everything changes - you change, people and places at home change, so "home" doesn't really exist the way you remember it and it never actually feels like "home" again. I thought that is what the piece meant. I was wrong. I found a whole new interpretation.

"You can't go home again" for our family means that you can no longer go home again if you bring 50 lb black puppy. Here's the score card thus far:

Callie 3 - New Hand Towels 0
Callie 5 - Door Jam 0
Callie 1 - Amber's expensive new blanket 0
Callie 8 - Mom's dog toys 0
Callie 2 - Wrapping paper 0

We thought gas would be the most expensive part of this trip. It wasn't. Callie has moved over the house like a natural disaster. If I put her under the tree with a red bow on her as my 10 month old niece's Christmas present...

Temporary Highlights

2005-11-07T20:27:00-05:00

No, they are not just for your hair. You can also use temporary highlights to end the "when are you ever going to post something on your blog?" e-mails you get from readers...

How to Become Unprofessional in under 30 Minutes: I have spent five years working my rear off to have an aura of capability and seem "with it" as an assistant. Five years of hard, hard work beating deadlines, organizing, keeping afloat - all ended in under 30 minutes. Here's how you, too, can do it. The boss and I had to go to storage in the basement to find something. I opened the door, flipped on the lights. I started walking back to our corner of storage when it happened. Something brown and furry with rodent features came out from behind some shelves on my right, ran over my kitten-heeled clad foot, and scampered under some boxes. Normally I do not mind rodents. But if the rodent startles me after I have given fair warning (aka lights, speaking audibly) I'm going to loose it. I jump and scream. Loud, girly scream. Very girly. The boss asks what is going on. I tell him about the rodent. He shakes his head. He did not see it. Strike one. He kids about it for the rest of the morning. That afternoon I put the final nail in the coffin of professionalism by electrocuting myself while unplugging our paper shredder. Again, girl scream. He shakes his head again. Professionalism is dead. I will forever be "that assistant who screamed like a girl".

To the Doghouse: A/C quit working. Now, some of you in the northern part of our readership may not understand why this was a problem in November. I mean, who needs A/C in November? Well, here in Texas you have to have the A/C available at all times. No, it doesn't make sense. We called the realtor. The A/C repairmen come out, again. They know us by name. They went to the outside unit and showed us what the problem was: "Looks like some poor animal chewed through these wires. It probably got electrocuted and died." No, no it didn't. Chris and I both knew "some animal" was in our living room probably up on the furniture where she is NOT supposed to be. We pay for the repair ourselves. I ask the repairmen if we throw in an extra $50 will they take the 50 pound puppy and "take care of her". I was only half joking. By that evening we had forgiven Callie, I suppose - all 50 pounds of her was up sleeping between us in our bed. But I promise you the next time she chews through a wire it's over for her. Probably.

Washed Up: Washing machine gave off a funny smell. I called Chris in to confirm funny smell. He grabbed everything from the vicinity of the washer and moved it to a "safe" place, then he sat on the stairs next to the washer with a fire extinguisher. Apparently that funny smell is the smell of electrical meltdown death. Decomp of washer parts. Repairman visits the house. He assures me the 50 pound puppy had nothing to do with the washer. Lucky girl. Repairman fixes washer. Wallet is almost $200 lighter, but we have clean clothes and no threat of future electrical fires.

So, what else around here can break? Don't ask. We're searching to find out if the sacrificing of a black 50 pound puppy will appease the cosmos and keep us from paying any more appliance repair people. If we hadn't just spent $200 on her last trip to the vet.... We should have named her "Money Pit" instead of Callie.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

2005-10-19T22:38:00-05:00

Cardinals lost. The boys are free to cheer on the Astros. Good luck to them. :(

28 Years, 48 Roses, and a Trip to the ER (again)

2005-09-28T16:36:00-05:00

It was my birthday yesterday. We all celebrated it a day early because, as you may know, whenever we celebrate on my birthday with Kenneth, Lesley, and their kids we end up in the ER with one of the kids (Brandon) and a broken arm. This year we were taking no chances so we celebrated a day early. Turns out it's not the day, it's the actual celebrating... But I'll get to that...

Chris bought me 2 dozen roses. But it gets better! He found 23 ladies at work to deliver them to me, one at a time throughout the day. Then he brought in the final rose. On each stem was a note tied with a ribbon of a reason he loves me. Sweet and thoughtful! So all of the ladies at work know he's a great, romantic husband and I have 24 roses at work which are gorgeous!

Lesley bought me 2 dozen beautiful roses without even talking to Chris about it. You can never have too many roses. Her's are beautiful and they smell so great. So I have 24 roses at home. 48 roses... I am spoiled.

Lesley, Kenneth, and kids also treated us to a South African pancake dinner. Not like American pancakes, this is a cross between our pancakes and a taco/fajita thing. Delicious. And then there was cake.

So we made the kids stay in the house thinking if no one went outside there would be no falling off the jungle gym or out of a tree. Just as we were wrapping the evening up Chris said we needed to go to the ER. He's been getting headaches for about two months now and this one just kept getting worse and worse to the point he was slurring some speech and having muscle problems. And so, we spent the night at the ER. Lesley is my angel - she sat in the waiting room with Wilson the whole evening.

Chris is fine, the CAT scans were normal and they recommended seeing a specialist. Then they gave us our ER bill. I stayed home with Chris and Wilson yesterday and spent my birthday catching up on the sleep we all had missed the night before. As I'm taking care of "the boys", I think to myself - he's been staring at computers and PDAs and all manner of electronics for 10 - 12 hours a day. So I asked him if he needed to see an eye doctor. He says he has 20/15 vision. I think over the last 6 years and realize I can't remember him getting an eye exam. I asked when the last eye exam was administered. He said when he was 19. Well, darling, that was 10 years ago. I called my eye doctor and we got him right in this afternoon. Seems his distance vision is fine but he needs to wear glasses to see his computer screens and to read. We went out and bought him his very first pair of glasses! How exciting! The thing is that he's not thrilled about it. I'm not sympathetic. I got my first pair when I was 7 years old and those weren't just for working on the computer - those were so I didn't walk out in front of a car, fall into a hole, or run into a tree.

This is the last birthday we will celebrate with Kenneth, Lesley, and the kids. Next May they return to Johannesburg - which means we will probably have ER free birthdays every September from here on out...

Ponderosa Part II

2005-09-15T17:34:00-05:00

Picking up my mail out of our mailbox I notice a noise, a noise like running water. I think, "No one is home and the pets don't have thumbs - necessary if you're planning to turn on a faucet..." I look down at the freshly dug hole next to the house. "Funny," I thought, "I don't remember purchasing a decorative fountain...and if I did purchase one, what an odd place to put it!" The new pipe where it attaches to the house had become a mini version of Old Faithful. Wilson and I run inside and call Chris to tell him to get home as fast as he can. He tells me where the "thingy" is that turns the water off at the meter. I grab it, Wilson and I run out to the meter. We have two fountains - one at the house and one at the meter. Chris pulls up, jumps out of the car and turns the water off. He has our realtor on speed dial.

No telling how long the break has been going. And, of course, it hasn't rained in Fort Worth in days and days - until this afternoon, so our neighbor who saved us the other day wouldn't have noticed a wet sidewalk today. And it rained pretty good, so the puddle at the house could have been from the rain and the pipe could have broken just as I got the mail - but we all know better now, don't we?

Hallelujah Chorus

2005-09-14T21:18:00-05:00

...Or Handel's Water Music - I'm not sure which is more appropriate when you have running water after 24 hours without it. Either way, we're back in plumbing business. Wilson couldn't be happier in his bubble bath.

I have to admit, I was a little concerned this afternoon when the van pulled up to the house. On the side of the van was "Air Conditioning/Heating/Small Appliances/Electric/Plumbing". I told Chris at least they also didn't dabble in taxidermy and wedding planning. Chris said it probably wouldn't fit on the side of the van. At any rate they dug up the yard, replaced the old broken pipe that looked like it was partially made from Swiss Cheese, and got the water going again. They even patched the yard back up and said they were sorry about my flower bed. I didn't care - I have indoor plumbing and I can always plant more bulbs.

The men working on the house told me to give their best to "the man of the house". Chris stopped by late this afternoon before heading over to Dallas. He got the guys big cups, ice, and bottled water since he noticed it was over 100 degrees and there wasn't a water cooler in sight. He's thoughtful that way. They all appreciated him a lot they said as Will and I arrived home after work. Chris is a great guy, if I do say so myself.

Tomorrow is G-day, the day we "might" find out Peanut's gender. We'll see. Tonight our primary concern is getting some sleep since it was hard to come by after the events of last night. Here's hoping.

Ponderosa to the Extreme

2005-09-13T23:18:00-05:00

Some of you know my family. Some of you even know our term for when things just go from bad to worse, we Davidsons call it "Ponderosa". Today was Ponderosa at it's worse:

I'm sick with some sort of cold that won't go away. Chris agreed to take care of dinner tonight, but he has a big test in the morning and got out if the office late (Ponderosa 1), so he thought it would increase his study time if we went out to eat dinner and then he could come home and study. All went well until we arrived home and Chris went to turn on the water faucet. No water (Ponderosa 2). Now, I have to say in our neighborhood this is not an uncommon occurrence. The water company is always around somewhere on our street fixing broken pipes. Our neighbor came over to tell us the news - right after lunch today he went out and saw a water break in our front yard, exactly 5 minutes after Chris and I had left the house on our way back to work (Ponderosa 3). Being the wonderful neighbor he is, he turned off our water at the meter so we wouldn't have to pay for a water leak. Well, Chris gets on the phone with the city water company. She asks where the break is and when Chris tells her, she seems all too excited to tell us "The City is responsible for the pipes from the street to the meter. From the meter to the house is the homeowner's responsibility." Then she bade us a good evening.... Right. (Ponderosa 4.)

By this time it is nearly 8 pm. By the time we call our landlord and give him the good news and call our realtor and give her the good news it is nearly 9 pm. Chris hasn't studied yet. We have the world's best landlord (and I'm not just saying that because they know about the blog - they truly are a huge blessing to our family and have been ever since we arrived in Fort Worth 5 years ago), and we have the world's best realtor (and she doesn't have the blog address, she is really the best) - but there isn't a plumber that will come out and dig up your yard at 9 pm and try to fix your water problem (Ponderosa 5). So, our landlord offered us their spare rooms, but we as a family decided this would be a fun adventure - like camping, only we have electricity, cable TV, and a wireless network. Besides, by the time we got settled somewhere else, Chris would have lost more study time. So we settle in at our house.

If this were a horror movie, this would be the part where the audience in the theater started saying "Don't stay in the house! Get out of the house!" Unfortunately our lives don't have a live studio audience and we couldn't see that Ponderosa was going to get worse.

The first thing is that, although there are five different varieties of cold beverages in the refrigerator, suddenly everyone HAD to have ice water (Ponderosa 6). I told Chris several times we just bought a pack of bottled water two nights ago for my office that I hadn't taken in to work yet - it was still in the trunk. A few minutes later I see Chris in the kitchen, defrosting ice cubes in the microwave. I must have told him about the bottled water in some language other than English, perhaps French... So he tells me I never said anything about the bottled water and sends me out to the Expedition to get water. I take Wilson along for help. I'm barefoot and pregnant, he's a three year old who is mad that I have called him outside while he is watching his favorite cartoon. He runs off and leaves me - I shout after him to tell his father to come help. Apparently I am still speaking French. Help never comes.

The driveway is sloped from the garage down to the street. I am 5'4". The Expedition no longer has that handy little strap that hangs down from the hatch to help short people shut it once it is open, thanks to Callie who chewed it off back in July (Ponderosa 7). I get stuck somewhere between the hatch and the ground, barefoot, pregnant, and in my dress from work, a short dress so now I just know my rear is visible to anyone who should pass on the street (Ponderosa 8). Just when I think I'm going to be stranded between an Expedition hatch and the earth forever, Chris comes out to see what in the world is taking me so long with that water.

We get inside. The dogs are fighting over a bone, even though we purchased plenty of bones for each dog - they just want to fight over that one. Callie has gone into heat, one month before she is scheduled to be spayed (Ponderosa 9). Wilson decides he can't possibly go to bed without a bubble bath though most nights he couldn't care less, Chris still hasn't started studying, and I'm thinking we will never, ever be able to go camping because we will kill each other in a tent. Then, we realize Wilson is missing - he is in the bathroom, "going". I get sick and need to vomit, but there's not a trash can handy, the one toilet in the house is occupied, and Chris is threatening to carry me outside if I "don't get a handle on the nausea" (Ponderosa 10).

Finally we decide the only thing we can do is break down and laugh about this. After all, this was just one night without water - you should see us when our electricity goes out for 30 minutes...

A Calla Lilly by Any Other Name...

2005-05-03T21:41:00-05:00

...would be "a target for a light saber". I usually don't complain about what the man and the boy do. After all, I'm out numbered here. Wilson and his father have assembled quite the arsenal of toy light sabers. Those of you who have not been exposed to hours and hours of Star Wars know not of what I speak. You are the lucky ones.

It's not that I hate light sabers. It's not that I hate Star Wars even. I did some fencing (with a sword called a foil, not chain length fencing) in college and I appreciate the art. I even appreciate the mythology and the culture impact of Star Wars. My main complaint is that if a grown man and his son want to swordfight with their toys, it should be done in the back yard. Not out front. I don't want the neighbors to talk. Although, some of them still have Christmas decorations up and it is now May so I don't know who I'm worried about on this street talking. Apparently they couldn't fight in the back yard - as Wilson put it "There's dog pooh out there." He had a point.

While the man and the boy were assembling an arsenal of light sabers, I was cultivating and growning calla lilies. I planted the bulbs. I kept them from freezing. I have nurtured and cared for these flowers and the Jedis in this house went out in the front yard and the boy used my lilies for sword practice. They really were quite beautiful. Before. So I won't be winning the Neighborhood Association's Yard of the Month Award. On the other hand, if Light Saber fighting becomes an Olympic Sport, Wilson could win the gold

April Showers Bring May Flowers. Maybe.

2005-04-25T17:16:00-05:00

The skies over Fort Worth have been dark and threatening for a few days now - and yet there's no rain. I'm reminded of T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland every time I look at the clouds:
"Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie or sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain".

My parents are glad right now that they invested a fortune in my Baylor education so I can rattle off modern British lit while looking at the clouds and comptemplating meteorology. Bottom line kids - there's no money in the arts.

All this to say Wilson's been pulling his weight around the house trying to keep our flowers watered. He so badly wants to play outside with his umbrella in the rain, but there's no rain. Sometimes he gets a big smile on his face and says "I think I hear thunder." But again - no rain. We only want the rain though - no more tornadoes blowing over huge trees in the yard. Just rain.

Chris' parents visted this weekend. They were kind enough to help do some yardwork; shopping for annuals, planting annuals, chopping a root, levelling ground where the tree fell over last summer, laying down grass. The best part was that Nana kept Wilson busy on the other side of the yard, so no one (Wilson) was lifting our tools and playing with them. If you have to do yardwork with a 3 year old, you absolutely need to get yourself a Nana. You will accomplish a ton and there will be no whining. I take that back - there was whining. Chris was whining around 11 pm that night because he was a little achy. And I was a little whiny at the same time because I was a little cut up from trying to prune a bush near our roses. But the important thing is that there was no child whining. And for that we are deeply grateful to Pawpaw and Nana. They will probably never come visit again, but our yard looks really nice. :)

Seems I have mastered the art of rain making. Early this morning I saved the first paragraphs as drafts. This afternoon the skies opened up and the thunder produced rain... And hail. While the rain was a help, the hail most certainly killed my flowers. So either I wasn't meant to have the pretty flowers I planted this weekend, or, if you quote section 5, What the Thunder Said from "The Wasteland" you will get your rain. And some hail.