This is Bad

So you know it's bad when you open up the dryer to remove some clothes you dried Saturday and the smell of wood smoke wafts up to meet your nose. Georgia Burning 2007 is tired out now. I'm ready for some fresh air and for smoke not to drift up my dryer vent into nice clean clothes.

Now I have to be a good home maker and promptly remove my clothes from the dryer so we don't all smell like wood smoke.

If I were back home in South Carolina? That wood smoke would indicate a bar-b-que. Shoot, I might have to worry about getting smothered in sauce walking around smelling like that!


By the way, Internets Peoples. They are so strapped for help fighting the forest fires around this area that they have convicts out helping. Not a bad idea, if you ask me. Community service is character building, I'm sure.

An Edgy Sunday

There was just no respect for the Lord's Day this morning around our house. Getting dressed and out the door for church proved almost to be our downfall. We were all snappy and nasty. I had to referee Paige and Makenna. Makenna kept letting her mouth overload her butt and Paige was aiming to physically teach her a lesson. I am greeting my monthly friend....and not with open arms, but resignation, so my demeanor is less than friendly.

As we pulled up in the church yard I told Fred to park there, then LET US OUT HERE... He ended up slamming on brakes and doing some loud venting of his own. I slammed out of the van when we parked without another word, got Vitt and escorted him to class. It was my intentions NOT to speak that man again today.

We got to worship after class and as we were sitting there, he turned and apologized to me for how he said what he did. I patted him on the shoulder and told him I understood, but I already had dibs on being a butt for the day and had no intentions of giving it up. And that I apologized also, but could not guarantee my behavior would turn sunny before sundown.

We communicate so well. I love that about us.


And Georgia is burning, ya'll. I'm sure those of you not here have got to be seeing it on your news from time to time. Forest fires are raging all around us. Yesterday was awful. Makenna was gone to a birthday party with a friend and the rest of us were just hanging out for the afternoon. We happened to look outside and it was orange. You read it right. Orange. Very eerie looking. Paige went from window to window looking and getting all anxiety-like. She said...Mama?!? What is causing it to look like that?? I looked out the window, shrugged, and said....I don't know. Maybe Jesus is coming back?

Well, she freaked out. I guess it's not a good idea to tell Paige stuff like that.

The winds have changed today and although it's still a tad bit smoky and the smell isn't as bad...the orange is gone. Let me tell you, people. When you are used to seeing kids running and riding bikes while screaming all during daylight hours, enjoying Saturday at home? Then there's nothing outside. Nothing. It's quiet and still and ORANGE. That's some scary stuff. Makes your skin go all prickly feeling. Oh, and don't forget our snow. Seriously. The ash floats in the breeze like snow to cover everything.

Time for some rain, I do believe.

Edge Update......

I'm just dangit tired here. Stupid me said I would help out with the Compass class this week and I forgot it was going to be at night. I'm so not into doing class like stuff at night. I function at a better capacity during the daylight when it comes to work like that. Between you and me? Some awful malady is going to strike someone that lives in this house Thursday night. How do I know? Because Grey's Anatomy is a new episode and Mama ain't missing a new episode on the new t.v. Sure, I can catch it next day on the computer, but I prefer the good television. It's not like they can't have the class if I'm not there. I'm going more for learning how to teach it than to participate. I have the lovely mentor classes coming up in May. Those classes will be during the day. Thank Goodness! Because it'll be May sweeps time, people. All the good stuff will be shaking down on prime time then.

I had my annual fire inspection yesterday. What a joke. This lady and guy from the fire department come around to see if your smoke detectors are working. If you are using a 40 watt bulb in your exhaust fan light over the stove. Remember how I said I use one kitchen as a laundry room? Well, the room was straightened except I had my clothes sorted into piles on the floor with a very clear walkway betwixt them. She was gingerly picking her way through the mountains (said with LOTS of sarcasm) and made the comment..."Is it laundry day?" I just looked at her. Anyone who knows my face personally can vouch for the fact that if I give a look like I gave her, you're pretty much guaranteed to feel stupid. She proceeded to step in the room that houses my washer and dryer. Opened the cabinets. Interested in what laundry detergent I use, Sister? There was a small fire extinguisher in there. Oh, joy. Here comes Lecture Class 101. She starts in on how I should install it on the wall with some kind of black bracket. I finally interrupted to inform her that it was there like that when we moved in and if she doesn't have the black bracket thingy on her person, it won't be put on a wall. She puts it back in the cabinet and closes the door. All in all, we passed the inspection with a warning to remove the pantyhose drying on top of the hot water heater. Whatever.

I just watched the recycle guys pick up my recyclables. I figure having a five member family, I should do a little something to help the environment, right? So, I recycle cans, plastic soda and water bottles, paper and magazines. I watch these guys sort my stuff into their respective bins on the back of the truck. They start laughing. I peer closer to see one of them (who is, I would venture to guess, around late 40's- early 50's) start laughing. He has picked up one of the magazines. It's either a Redbook or Glamour. He's reading out loud to the other guy the titles of the articles on the front. They laugh and laugh and laugh. Yeah. We all know you go through and keep magazines like that for yourself to take home and read the articles and look at the women's underwear ads. You ain't foolin' no one, Mister.

Thought I might also include a picture from Saturday night. Paige took this before we got into the sexy mini-van. I'm seeing too many chins for my liking on me, but you gotta admit....we looked good. If the sun hadn't been so bright, you might've been able to see my eyes. As it is, I am blind without shades outside. I wear them on cloudy days, too. Preserving the blues, people. I love when Fred wears his dress blues. They are so sharp. Alot of men had this uniform on and the whole ball you could hear the medals ringing against each other as they walked around. God Bless America and the military uniform. Am still waiting on the ones my friend took. Hopefully, she'll get them to me this week. She said she was going to play around in her photoshop program and make me look like a million bucks. I'll settle for that.

Those sexy shoes that crippled my calves made me a decent height to Fred. Usually I barely hit his shoulder. I LOVE me a tall fellow.

Submarine Ball 2007

My my my. The Navy goes all out when they give a shin dig. Let me say that I am officially impressed with what they pulled off this past Saturday night for our men and women in uniform.

I will now tell you that this formal occasion took place on Jekell Island, Georgia. (I really didn't mention it before because I didn't want any of you crazies out there to call a bomb threat in and piss me off on my night out. I knew you'd understand) This was my first time going to J.I. and I was really looking forward to it. The family and I have visited St. Simon's Island next door, but haven't taken the time to visit Jekell. Did you know that John F. Kennedy Jr. and Caroline got married on Jekell? I can see why. It's very quaint and quiet.

I'm going to include a link that shows where we were so you can get an idea of just how cool this was.

http://www.jekyllisland.com/meetings/space.asp

Just do a quick click on it, would you? We started with social hour in the Exhibition Hall and Lobby. Then when supper came along, we headed into the Hartley Auditorium. After supper, everyone walked the lovely covered walkway to Atlantic Hall for after dinner dancing.

See what I mean? It was swank. And, oh, the dresses. The men were all in their dress blues. I've never seen so many medals in one place! They stood tall and proud. It didn't matter if they were in their "cracker jack's" or uniform sport coats or even uniform tuxedos. The women? Went alllll out for it. I saw so many different styles of dresses. Some were....uh....unique. Others were stunning. Some were simple. And there was the extremely ornate. There were intricate hair styles that I know took hours to accomplish.


My only complaint? MY SHOES! Oh, sweet merciful heavens. They were perfect and looked fantastic, but they KILLED ME. Two hours of standing during social hour was torture of the highest form. I even started walking on my tip toes in order to get relief and my calves said.....I don't THINK so, Sistah. When we were finally through with the pomp and circumstance and allowed to sit down for the meal, those bad boys came off. I told Fred I was sorry if I embarrassed him but there was no way in Hades I was going to put them back on. He's smooth. He laughed and didn't say a word. Even held them for me when I stopped by the ladies room on our way to dance. Pu-leeze. I was only doing what over half those women wanted to do. That's just me. Hold your head up high. Meet people in the eye when you walk past and it will throw them off so they don't look down and see bare feet with a formal gown. Easy.


My husband could not fast dance due to his knee injury, but I did get a slow one in. Can I just say I love being 5'6" and Fred being 6 feet tall? I love a tall man and am so glad he turned out a decent 6 inches taller than me. Really, though? It was so much fun to sit and chat with people and watch how the drunks acted.....it didn't matter. We hung out with our neighbors for the first time and truly enjoyed it.


I would like to share some things I learned and/or observed while going to this Ball. Some might not be so nice, but it's just me and you. I can tell the internets these things, right? Good. Glad we're square on it.


Things I learned/observed at the Sub Ball 2007:

• Navy boys, for the most part, like their women healthy. Some? Really healthy. God bless them because those girls had some gorgeous gowns and looked like princesses.
• Girlfriend? Just because you are a size 0? Does NOT mean you are pretty. I know what you think. But, I know what I'm seeing.
• Just because a man has high rank and is feared by others? Does not automatically give him grace and rhythm on the dance floor. Dude...seriously. Your credibility just went out of the window.
• No matter what age you are? Everyone knows the words to the song "Footloose". And will dance to it.
• Girlfriend smoking the huge hocking cigar outside? You might be Latina and have a killer booty in that dress...but a cigar? Just not attractive, sweetheart.

Like I said...just a few things to give you a glimpse into my evening. We really had a wonderful time and didn't get home until after midnight!!!! Paige survived her first major babysitting gig. I'm very proud of her. Although, she did call when we were getting ready to take a formal picture and I had to explain how to cook fish sticks and how many before we had our turn. Fred called and checked a few times. Our neighbor, my partner in crime, Jaime also came by for a quick visit to make sure things were smooth. Even Nana gave a quick call from South Carolina. She has magical powers. If there was trouble brewing? She could have nipped it right in the bud. Those kids love their Nana.

At 10:30 p.m. Paige sent a text and asked when we were coming home. Fred replied in about and hour or so. This is the text we received back from her:

Mmmkay. Take ur time & have fun. The firemen r almost done n i think they found makenna. Lol. j/k!

Yeah, she's a hoot.

A friend of mine is taking photography classes and had her very nice camera with her. We took some pictures outside with the palm trees and ocean behind us. When she sends them to me, I'll be sure to post one so you can see just how awesome we looked!

And tell me what you think of this? I went to the bathroom before we left to go home and the gal in the next stall? Her shoes caught my eye. Not because they were cute. Well, they were cute and gold and strappy. But, because her shoes were FACING the toilet. This perplexed me. Alot. So, when I came out and Fred was standing there waiting on me...I told him we had to stay there for a few minutes because I had to see this chick. He said...how will you know it's her? ~Men~ Because of the shoes, Man! So we waited. And waited. Chatted with a former boat mate of his who, in his drunken state, informed me that my husband "is the poop!" It did not sway my attention from that bathroom door. She finally came out! And she really did look like a she. No gay-dar went off. Strange. I'm glad I waited because that would have haunted me for a while. You would have done the same thing, right? Thought so.

Now I'm heading to the post office. I'm going to mail my shoes to China because they would be perfect for torture.

Another Life Lesson

Remember the Geico commercial post? Where it was NOT me and Jaime trying to walk backwards on the moving sidewalk thingy?

Uh...yeah......

Well, ever since then, when the commercial comes on, Fred will look at me and say..."So that's what you two were doing?"

To which I respond..."Nope, wasn't us. Wasn't us at all."

And what does Jaime do when she's over visiting the other day?????

The commercial comes on....I'm ignoring it....and she starts laughing and says...."You should have seen us trying to get the hang of doing that! ha ha ha ha ha"

I am sitting beside her on the couch and I look at her and say..."I have no idea what you are referring to. " Looks hard at her." We would NEVER do anything like that in public."

The gig is up.

Fred doesn't believe me anymore.




Prom is tonight!!!! Now if you will excuse me, we have to leave home around 4-ish and I must start getting ready at 11:30 a.m.! Takes me back to the days where I could honestly take 4 hours to get ready to go somewhere. I wonder if I can remember how to take my time getting all girly-fied. I'm sure it'll come back the slower I go.

I Gotta Do What?

Well, it appears I'm going to prom- Navy Style. It is time for the Submarine Ball in our United States Navy. Where you must find that formal gown with all matching accessories. Where you must panic at the last minute and beg your stylist to perform hair miracles on your behalf. Where eyebrows are perfectly shaped and arched for pictures.

I'll be honest. Attending this function has never been top on my list of priorities. When attending the Compass class a few months ago, it was highly suggested that we attend when the time came. I snorted and said....not hardly. When an older (than me) Navy Wife asked why not, this was my reply:

I have attended two proms in my life. I've been a bridesmaid formally twice and informally twice. I've bought enough taffeta and chiffon to last me a lifetime. Floor length gowns are for the young...which I no longer am. No, thank you.

I wasn't anticipating Mrs. J. (the older wife) making me her life's mission. She was determined to see me go and, by golly, she's done it! She called me one night and we were perusing the internets together looking at gowns. I just refused to pay a huge amount. ~stomped my foot refused~ Lo and behold, I came across a dress that I though MIGHT would work on JCPenney. Get this. It was on sale for $29.99. I kid you not. So I ordered it. I was really thinking it would suck and I would have my excuse not to attend this shin dig. ~sigh~ It works. Dangit.

The Saturday before Easter found Paige and I out shopping for her some shoes. I kind of poked around the really nice dressy ones a little bit. Paige took it upon herself to pick out the perfect shoes to match this lovely dress. Can I say the shoes I finally got cost almost as much as the stupid dress? How crazy is that?? She also told me...."You're not taking that hockin' big red purse in with you. You need a clutch." Humph. I KNEW that. I was GOING to get a clutch. No worries. She picked that out, too. It matches the shoes. La-ti-da.

This is going to embarrass my child, but I shall mention it anyway. I knew in order to really pull this dress off, I needed me some firmer drawers. What are those you ask? Well, does it help to say girdle-like underwear? Or panties that hold in a tad to shape, define, and smooth your shape? Yeah, Southerners call 'em firmer drawers. And, boy, did I find some good ones.

So, last night was the trial run. I tried on the entire outfit to "get a feel" for it. Make sure all parts were smooth and firm. My upstairs neighbor (whom I've adopted as my other daughter) came down to give her opinion. It seems I'm ready for show-time.

~sigh~

This means I gotta shave my legs. Find some of that tanning/glow lotion so as not to blind people with the whiteness of my legs since pantyhose are not an option. We will be near a beach. I might feel the need to walk along the shore with my hubby. Pantyhose will not work or be romantic.

Oh, heavens, did I mention my hubby? Oh, yeah. He's going to wear his dress blues and I might seriously have to admire how he looks in it. Does funny things to me when he gets all uniformed up like that. And can you imagine? There's going to be a ball room of around 750 people..half in dress uniform?? Girls out there? I know ya'll jealous.

Heck, yeah, I'm going to have the camera with me. Do I look stupid?

So, the hubby and I shall leave the younger ones in the care of their sister this Saturday night and we shall go to the ball. Go to the ball. Makes me laugh to say it. Like my name should have an -ella- on the end of it.

One question, though. Those purse-clutchy thingys? Why are they so freaking small? How am I supposed to fit a compact, two lipsticks*, a cell phone, AND a camera in there? It's simply not possible!!!!





*You know it's right crazy how we women operate. I've decided to do prominent eyes for my makeup. Therefore, fashion and etiquette dictates that the lipstick must be subtle or nude. So, I went to Merle Norman the other day. Did you know it takes one pencil- with lip liner on one end and lip color on the other end-, AND lip gloss to top it to achieve NUDE lips. How crazy is that? How crazy is it that I bought BOTH of them??

It is Official

It is official. We now having living in our home....A TEENAGER! Paige has gone and turned 13 on me. Even though I knew it was going to happen, it still takes my breath away.

Where is the premature baby born too early? The one who weighed 3 lbs 7 oz. at birth? The one who lay in an incubator while I sat outside of it crying my eyes out. I would sit and watch her teeny tiny form with all the tubes and wonder would the day ever come when she would completely be mine. To hold and rock and dress in pink frills.

What a beautiful day in May it was when I was finally allowed to take home that sweet little baby home with me. My mother held the infant car seat hostage so that she could be with me when this happened. I didn't dress her for the ride home. Nana did. I didn't hold and rock her while the doctor gave me last minute instructions. Nana did. Little does Paige know that the expectation of her arrival and time spent in the NICU* would heal and bond my mother and I to the point where I would have been completely satisfied to have my mother's arms around me for eternity and never complain again. My mother's love for my child showed my own mother's love for me so bright and pure that I still have yet to recover from it some thirteen years later.

And now she is practically grown. She has been through alot, this child of mine. But, she is so strong in personality and intellect, that I am in constant awe of her abilities. One minute she is the emotional teen that just knows the world is against her and how will she ever survive???? The next? She is a young woman with insight and a motherly sister to a three year old...showing much love and patience with him as he is just starting to learn about this world. She is the sister that holds her younger sister beside her on the couch to watch a show, sharing her blanket and giggling with her over nothing.

She frustrates me. She makes me laugh. She makes me think. She makes me want to hand the world to her on a silver platter. She makes me believe in a good future. She makes me believe in love.

Happy Birthday, My Ro. You are so loved and needed in this family. Without you? We are not complete.

Now go ride that brand new bike and forget about driving a vehicle for a while. It ain't happening. Oh...and don't forget to wear your helmet.

*NICU- For those of you who are so very blessed not to know. The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

Wasn't Me

I went to the airport last night with my neighbor to pick up her sister, who is visiting for a week from Massachusetts for her Spring Break.

When I got home, my hubby was telling me something when I had to interrupt him to say:


"Oh...uh....if you hear a report about two loons who were trying to copy that caveman guy on the Geico commercial? You know...where he's at the airport and was walking backwards on the moving sidewalk thingy? Yeah, that totally wasn't me and Jaime."

Redneck Redefined

This morning Paige came busting into my bathroom to use the hairspray. That meant Paige, Makenna, and myself were in this not so large space. Paige was holding her hair with one hand in a ponytail and was turning when she banged her elbow on the closet door.

"Dang," she said. Then she laughed. She told me how she got picked on at school because she said things such and dang, da-gummit, etc etc. She said the kids laughed and called her hill-billy. (She's not offended at all. Even laughs along with them.)

I told her, "You tell 'em you do NOT come from the hills. There are no hills at your home in South Carolina."

"YEAH!" she cried. "I'm not a hill-billy. I'm a WOOD-BILLY."

I had to laugh.




On another note. Every time I go home for a visit, I notice that another few acres of trees are gone. Stripped by logging companies who leave behind the biggest, ugliest mess you've ever seen. Woods I grew up with are gone. It only takes a few days for the logging companies to destroy decades of tree growing. And it all comes down to greed. Plain and simple. Usually when the woods have been stripped? It's because someone has passed away and probate is up and the heirs start stripping it down to get whatever money they can out of the trees.


So, does that mean when all the trees are gone, Paige will not be considered a "Wood-billy". What would she be then? Field-billy? Splinter-billy?(because that's all that left?)

And Makenna? She still believes all rednecks are from Delaware.

This Kid

This kid. This is the boy that plays harder than any kid I've ever met. He's smart as a whip and quicker than lightning. There are things about him that amaze me on a daily basis. Such as:

• He can walk on hot asphalt without flinching since he never wears shoes. His feet are as tough as leather.
• He can pedal his bike so fast that anyone watching will hold their breath because we just know he's going to crash and get hurt badly.
• He mastered riding his scooter in 10 minutes flat. When his interest flows towards his scooter, he will find an inclined plane so he can coast and build up speed. The faster the better.
• He can do this same thing with his Tonka dump truck. His butt is narrow enough to sit in the back and it almost looks like he's having a wheelchair race as he turns the black wheels as fast as he can.
• Sitting down still as a statue to watch Mickey Mouse. Answering every question right and still amazing me.

He knows no fear. Every minute is an adventure he has to meet head on. Naps are not allowed during daylight hours anymore. I believe it's simply because he thinks he might miss out on something. He tells a knock-knock joke he's made up ten times in a row. Who cares if it doesn't make sense. He thinks it's hilarious and gets totally tickled at himself each and every time he tells it. He terrorizes Makenna as soon as she walks in. It's not unusual for her to be in tears because he's picking on her. She doesn't want to hit him back. BUT, when she's reached her limit....he knows the line has been crossed and he runs to me for shelter.

Let a pull-up commercial come on and without fail, he will run for the bathroom. As if to say to the kids on television....."HA! I laugh at you having to announce you are a big kid now. I simply go without any fanfare to do my business. It makes MY Mama jump and run so as to prevent me taking a bath in the sink. I love to see her slump in relief against the door frame as I sit on the pot." I also believe if he could, he would write to the maker's of his sporty underwear and advise them to put the good pictures on the front instead of the butt. Wearing underwear backwards may not be the most comfortable thing, but having access to the cool pictures is a must.

By supper time, we at the Edge are looking forward to dark. Or 7:30 pm. Doesn't matter which comes first. We know, then, that Dad will make The Force sit in the recliner with him. It is a treasured time around our home. For we all know that if The Force is still for five minutes (sometimes less!)....he will be completely zonked out. It might take a tap on the leg or a cup of milk to make it happen quicker, but it does happen. Then prime time television is ours to enjoy.

Yesterday found this kid in rare form. An excess of Easter candy and decent weather made for a long exhausting day that never seemed to end. Our hair was standing on end and the living room was trashed.

Five minutes later I looked and this is what I saw. I had to take a picture because it appeared he had...in his sleep...turned back into my sweet little angel. See his hands folded in prayer?

Easter From the Edge

What a good Easter that was had here at the Edge. I must admit, I was a little saddened not to be at home with my entire family. This was the first time in all my 35 years that I wasn't able to share some of Easter Sunday with them. I might have skipped out on the Sunday service twice in my teens by it being prom weekend and being at the beach, but I was always home by mealtime.

My husband was a determined soul this time around. He decreed that we would dye eggs a few weeks ago. When he asked me what I thought of this, I told him I didn't care as long as he cleaned up the mess. My heart truly wasn't in it, to be honest. My brother and I used to go to my grandmother's the Saturday before Easter to dye eggs, but I never really got into it with my own children. My mother never showed an interest in carrying on the tradition with her own grandchildren, and I just never pushed it. Never really cared to. He and I purchased the eggs Saturday and as they boiled*, he set up the table for an Egg Dyeing-fest.

We had a ball with it. Vitt picked up quickly how to make the eggs different colors. I got some really good pictures that I will have to download onto the computer soon for your viewing pleasure. We all had a lovely bunch by the time we were done. Although Vitt did learn quickly that...uh...you can't bang two hard boiled eggs together like two regular balls. That part truly did confuse him.

We awoke Sunday morning to find that the Easter Bunny had come for a visit!! He was right generous...but not overly so. We had a breakfast of cinnamon buns before heading off to church. Vitt wore his all white outfit with underwear. I was leery of this, but Dad insisted that it should be fine. Well, it wasn't. Not quite there yet. Too much playing and not enough running to the potty had my son coming to me after church with his nice dress top on and a pair a jeans Fred had the foresight to put in his bag. We'll get there. I'm just tickled he'll even potty at all!

I planned a nice Sunday dinner (noon meal for non-Southerners). I knew it was Easter. Had it on the brain. Then I realized I hadn't prepared a HUGE feast for my family. I was miserable when I told Fred I would have planned a casserole or something of that nature had I been really thinking about it. He assured me all would be fine. And it was. I guess Jesus don't care if you got a casserole cooked or not. But, I bet he would come eat at my Mama's house because she normally has 2 or 3 !!!!!!

I made it through a major holiday without being home. I didn't like it and missed my family something fierce. But, our family (mostly my husband!) took the opportunity to start establishing good firm traditions of our own. We kept the spirit of the day and truly got along....at least 96% of the time. A record for us!

We are hoping to be recovered from the sugar high induced by lots of chocolate eggs and whatnot by at least Wednesday.





*Okay, I'm a little bit anal about some things that I cook. I do all meat well done (Sorry, Honey!) for fear of some bad thing happening to the kids. I truly do not know how long to boil eggs. The first batch I boiled....well, 6 cracked under the pressure and didn't make it. So, we had egg salad sandwiches for lunch. Fred kept an eye on the others we did to replace those lost. ~shrugs~ Will guarantee you won't get any of that salmonella poisoning in MY house if you come visit.

Boys

I love my cell phone. I am constantly taking pictures. This is my latest favorites of the birthday boys. I took this when we were home last time and went out to eat for Toot, Cayden, Vitt, and Des's birthdays. They love each other so good and do the most fantastic rendition of Wrestling Mania when together. They always walk away from each other with a new bruise or scrape to be found.

For those of you who don't know...Cayden is on the left and my baby is on the right. It's right funny because I have blonde hair and blue eyes and my brother has a dark complexion with hazel eyes and dark hair. When we all go out in public together, Cayden can easily pass as mine and Vitt as my brother's. I was sure my brother was adopted growing up because we're night and day. But, alas, we both look like our parents so much it's scary. I look like my mother with my Dad's fair complexion and my brother looks like my dad with my mother's dark complexion. Funny how DNA mixes up sometimes.

My heart breaks a little bit when I think of how my Grandaddy never got to see these guys. Des was pregnant with Cayden when he passed away. Don't get me wrong, he loved his granddaughters more than should be legal. I loved watching him rock them and how he would sit in his front porch swing...singing in a gravelly voice. I feel sure he knows the boys are here and is right tickled about it.

I have visions of these two being teenagers. It's kind of scary, actually. I know Vitt is two years younger, but he is a hoss and will probably not look much different from Cayden. Being night and day? Finding girls to throw lines at? ~sigh~ I feel Des and I will have a few sleepless nights in front of us. They're already partners in crime now as it is. Jumping on beds...throwing rocks (that's more Vitt's style).

I neglected to wish Cayden a Happy Birthday earlier this week. His is the day after Vitt's. How Des and I managed that is beyond me. I think it's pretty cool, though. Exactly two years apart. Vitt born on April 2 and Cayden on April 3. Hopefully, this will just one more thing to keep these guys closer as they grow up together.

CAYDEN? I LOVE YOU, BUBBA JOE! I MISS YOU AND TOOT LOTS AND LOTS! HAPPY FIFTH BIRTHDAY!

Vitt is "free" Years Old!

My baby is no longer a baby. Vitt is officially a pre-schooler today. I just can't believe it. I truly feel like I just had him. Time is a fickle thing at times. It's like the tortoise and the hare on crack. One minute it's dragging by, slowly but surely. The next minute, it's zipping by all hippity hop and you wonder where it went.

I no longer have a good solid reason to go down the baby aisle at the grocery store. We haven't bought diapers in over a month. All the baby food and formula are long gone in this house. It's right sad....yet liberating.

I can now look forward to T-ball games. All the boy stuff that is an unfamiliar world to me. I can handle ballet recitals and Girl Scout meetings without blinking. Now I have to psyche myself up for all kind of boy things. It's like learning a new language or being in a foreign country. But, I'm excited to do it.

This is my baby. He will tell people, when prompted, "I Mama's boyfriend." And he is! I will always have this incredible male that will love me til he dies no matter what. I see my brother being very protective of my mother and that's what I want one day. My nephew will be five tomorrow and I see the love he has for his Mama. It's just a good thing for a boy to do.

Sure, I'm sad about how fast he's growing. Yet I see how fast he learns. I see how he puts adult gloves on to help his Dad plant a tree in the yard. He works so hard and acts so grown. Then? He still has the awkward moment when he trips over his feet and falls down. Only to get up and run to me because he's got a boo-boo and needs me to kiss it so it will be all better.

There are times I could seriously eat that kid up with a spoon.

This is a good kid to end my fever. I no longer get all mushy inside with wanting when holding a baby. I don't sit and think....maybe one more kid. I am through with baby food and diapers and formula. And it's okay. Finally. *releases a deep breath*

Now I gotta brainwash him into saying "I'm Three!!!", while holding up three fingers. I attempted this yesterday and he kept telling me..."NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!! I TWO!" ...while holding up two fingers.

Happy Birthday, Vitt! You complete our family in such a perfect way.
We love you so much.

My Hands....my Mama's Hands.....

My mother's hands are showing their age. Her knuckles are swollen from arthritis and age spots dot the back of her hands. But, those hands of hers.......God above.....they mean so very much to me. Growing up, she would tell me stories of her own youth. She grew up one of eleven children. My Grandaddy was a farmer who was quick to put his brood to work in the fields. Mama would tell of how she had to crop tobacco and all the hard back-breaking work that goes into getting it to the barn to be cured. I'm fuzzy on this, but I do believe she might've picked some cotton also. I heard of how a couple of my uncles ran to hide in the corn field to escape punishment and how my Grandaddy sat and waited for it get dark and for them to get hungry. They came trudging out of that corn field to get supper and good whuppin'.

Then she got married and worked in a sewing room for many years. Alot of times she worked production and work hard. This was so she could make some extra money. Decorating cakes on the side for some change, along with the sewing has made arthritis her constant enemy. She finally got an office job that she knew nothing about. But, she taught herself business, computers, and public relations. She totally ran that place by the time she left.

Now her sewing skills are back in play and she works by her rules. When the arthritis is too bad, she can rest and not be penalized for it. Next time you visit a Medieval Times show....my mom probably made that ornate costume you're admiring. I am in awe of her abilities.

Because my mom has worked so hard all her life, chances are I may not get this debilitating arthritis in the knuckles of my hands. I might get to avoid the constant pain that years of sacrifice can cause.

As I sat in church today, a spot on the back of my hand caught my eye. At first I thought I had something there and tried to wipe it off. It stayed. I then licked my finger to see if that would do (because we all know Mama's Spit is magical stuff). It stayed. I was hit below the belt unexpectedly. I've got my first age spot.

And I started thinking about my Mama. How I've looked at her hands and winced because I know how badly they hurt her. How the knuckles will only get worse with time and there's nothing I can do to take the pain away. How those spots that bother her vanity on occasion show up in bright sunlight. Spots she got from working in the sun as a young girl when sunscreen wasn'teven an option.

Where did my spot come from? It sure didn't come from working in the sun. I was never made to do that. My mother and father made sure of it. Yes, I got a public job starting at age 16. But, it was indoors. In a nice climate controlled pharmacy.

I didn't wear sunscreen because I forced my Nordic type skin to tan summer after summer. By hook or crook, I had color that was not supposed to be me. Laying out for hours.......baking in a tanning bed. Looking back now and having had two suspicious places removed on my back, I just mutter "stupid stupid stupid" over and over again. I refuse to allow my own daughter to lay out in the sun...trying to preserve her precious Nordic skin. I slather all kids with sunscreen when we venture out in the hot blazing sun.

My mother will leave this earth one day. And when she gets to the gates of heaven ( I know for a fact she'll see that gate), she'll be able to hold her hands out to Saint Peter and show him personally her evidence of hard work on this earth. What will I show him? Age spots from a stupid youth?

But, she will go through those gates. And she will be rid of swollen knuckles and spots that won't go away.

I just have had my Mama on my mind today. It's not Mother's Day* or her birthday. It's just me, taking the time to let her know ....well.....that I know. I finally get it.





*Reminder: I will be posting weekly reminders. Mother's Day is still the ROYAL WEEKEND here. Fred's dad mentioned he might come for a weekend visit in the not so distant future. I told Fred to tell him to come that weekend so he can participate in the royal activities. Then, I was like.....maybe that's not a good idea because the two of them will be gone playing golf all day and me chasing Vitt is not my idea of royal treatment.