One Woman's Trash...

You never think you'll be like your mom when you grow up. And then it happens. In a saying, in a recipe, in a habit or while you're in a Chapin soccer t-shirt. All of the sudden, "Oh my lawd, I'm my mother."

The other night while strolling around our neighborhood, I came across some lovely giant liriope that were being tossed out. I took one look at them and said, "Not on my watch, Mr." and ran (ran/walked, I'm really out of shape) home to get my car. I hurried around the corner to the trash heap and loaded up the back of my car.

I brought home my treasures and started putting plants out all over our yard in the dark of the night. When I was finished and properly nipped on by the relentless gnats, I took one look at myself and said, "Oh my lawd, I'm my mother." I was wearing one of her old Chapin soccer t-shirts, tennis shoes (which is funny in itself because tennis shoes are just not cool on me) and sweat pants. I had dirt all over my face and inside my car and Warren, the cat was following me all over the place.

It happens in an instant and it finally happened to me. Here are some pictures of the finished product.

One woman's trash is another woman's treasure!

To Be Continued...

Well how about that. I did it. I started this little journal a year ago on my sweet and lovely (and inspiration) friend Kim's birthday. It was started with a very faint hope of keeping up with it. But because I'm daily entertained by my c-c-crazy children, I've been able to do it.

My hope is that this book I'm about to make will truly serve as a look back into the past when our children were young, and Daddy and I were too . Things were loud, the people were energetic and we all had a blast.

To be continued...

I Love That Boy

Welp, it's that time of year again. When things just sorta make my heart go pidda-padda. Here's one of them.

 I love that boy.

Thanks Dad

A big thing recently happened to Big. He's waited all his life for it and I know my Dad has too. He finally got to go turkey hunting. The following is an email from my Dad detailing the experience. A couple of things to know:

1 - Willy is the dog.
2 - Muller is my Dad's hunt farm.

"I just wanted to tell you what a thrill Big was to me this weekend. He showed up 6 feet tall and was really a heck of a little man this weekend. From getting up at 5:30, being patient with an old man, sitting pretty still for 6 yrs old, whispering, walking thru the swamp in the black dark with no flashlight, loving and running with Willy, to the look on his face Saturday morning when he heard the first of many gobbles. Sitting against the base of a tree, back to back watching and hearing the swamp wake up. None I will ever forget.

We had grudge matches in foosball, ping pong & pool. Watched turkey hunting shows and the Masters, drank beer (me) and Sprite, ate powdered doughnuts, Snickers, hot dogs and hamburgers.

His most profound question this weekend was: Where will I be able to hunt when I get big? That answer was simple--Muller.

Muller makes memories for me.
Thanks
Dad"

A Place To Dig

Grandma and Grandpa have come and gone.  When they visit, it seems like the time goes by in a blink.  We get in, we get out, we come, we go, hey there, bye, love you, doors close, doors open, good morning, good night, hug, kiss, its all one big dizzy second. But its always so good to see them. Even if it is in a blur.

As I may have mentioned before, Grandma and Grandpa have excellent taste. Good taste in food, good taste in jewelry, good taste in lots of things, plain ole' good taste. Because of this good taste, we receive many good gifts. But no gift from them will ever mean more than their gift of their time. The time they take to leave their "real" home, the time they spend with us and the time they spend for us.

Grandpa is what one would call a "handy man". He is very good with a saw, a screwdriver and a hammer. He's built and put lots of things together for us over the years. Closet shelves, stereo speakers, Big's fort, tables for Lil', toyboxes, jewelry boxes but this time he out-did himself. Daddy did start the process but Grandpa finished it. And it is something I've waited on since we moved into this house. Finally. A place to dig. 

But Big Did

Me: Alright Lil' it's time for bed.
Her: But Mommy, can I stay up jus a widdle bit?
Me: No. Go to bed.
Her: Pweese wid a chair-wee on top?
Me: No. Go to bed.
Her: Pweese. I give you a dollar.
Me: You are 3. You don't have a dollar.
Her: Yes I'm do.

****Shows me her stash*****

Me: Where did you get that money?
Her: The too-fairy.
Me: But you haven't lost any teeth yet.
Her: But Big did.

What It Felt Like To Me

Lil' got her first exposure to the freakishly delightful world of woman maintenance yesterday. Grandma took her for her first pedicure. She loved it and of course requested, pink, pink, pink! Because this is her favorite book these days...

Moving along... Here's her in the foot spa -

and here's the finished product. Photo courtesy of Big.

She was very proud of herself afterwards and decided that she was 18 now so she packed her things and moved away to college and I watched her VW bug bounce along down the driveway. She drove away from me and the only home she ever knew. She was grown and no longer my little Lil'. Not really, but that's what it felt like to me.