Lucy to the Rescue!

My washing machine broke down for the final time the other day. It had broken once before and the repairman came out to look at it, wiggled some wires and fixed it...for a bit. But when he came out last week, the wire wiggling was useless. He said he could get me some parts - to the tune of $300.00 - that would or would not fix the problem. 

The thing is, this washer is not more than 5 years old. FIVE YEARS!!! Seriously. Is that all we can expect from our appliances anymore? Ridiculous! My Dad was the one who went to my house to wait for the repairman the first time and the last time. After the repairman left he called with the bad news that it couldn't be fixed. He then went on a rant about how "A good washer needs a center agitator and two damn buttons. Nothing more. I've had my washer since 1972 and never had a problem with it. 1972! Now you get these machines with all these damn electronic buttons and boards and you can't do a damn thing with them." Agreed Dad. Totally agreed. 

So there it was. I needed a new washer. In the meantime of course, the kids insisted on wearing clothes. I went into a sort of laundry denial. I just pretended it wasn't piling up down there in the basement and pretended it would all be ok. But it wasn't. The stacks got higher and higher and the underwear drawers got lower and lower. Creative ideas were emerging about how to get more wear out of every piece of clothing. I was getting to the point of no return. My options (based on my limited budget) were a trip to the laundry mat or beating the clothes against a rock in the stream.

Needless to say I was feeling very defeated. Then I got a text. It was from my sister Kelly asking me to stop by her house after work. I wanted to know why and she just said, "Never mind, just stop by." And so I did. When I arrived, my 10 year old niece, Lucy, met me at the door. She took me by the hand and led me to the dining room. When I entered the room I saw ALL OF MY LAUNDRY on the table. Washed, dried and neatly folded. ALL OF IT. WEEKS WORTH of it. She even had the ironing board set up and asked which items I wanted her to iron! I was stunned. I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying. It still makes me cry when I think of it. 

Lucy explained that she asked her Mom to drop her off at my house so she could do a few loads of laundry for me. Once she realized the washer was broken, she called her Mom and they bagged it all up and took it back to their house. Lucy worked on it all day and she still wasn't done. She would continue to deliver loads of clean laundry to me throughout the next few days. 

Honestly, it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Ever. Can you even imagine a 10 year old doing all that? I can't even get my own kids to pick UP their clothes, let alone actually launder them. Hell, Zoe won't even go into the laundry room because "it's scary." 

But sweet little Lucy did. She's an amazing kid. Wise beyond her years and giving of herself like no one else. She loves to help others and do what she can to make their lives better. AND SHE'S ONLY 10!! Can you even imagine what a wonderful person she will grow into? She's a beautiful little soul that I have always deeply adored and now I adore her even MORE. But then, she's been taught well and she's seen good examples of giving and helping in both of her parents so I suppose it was inevitable. Still. TEN YEARS OLD!!! Amazing. So blessed to have her in my life. 

Definitely NOT Sporty Spice

THIS IS A PITCHER             

We are not exactly a "sporty" family. We don't watch football games together in the fall - we only go to our local football games to watch the marching band. We don't go to baseball games in the summer and we rarely watch hockey either.  The kids aren't involved in any particular sport though they've played some in the past - basketball, volleyball, track and diving. I've been thinking that I need to get them both involved again in something but I'm terrified of becoming over involved in sports and spending every spare moment running to and from games and practices. Still. I have some concerns about our general lack of sportiness. 

I was the coach for Zoe's softball team a few years back. Not only was I NOT qualified but she didn't even want to be there. She spent the majority of the time drinking copious amounts of Gatorade and waiting in line for the Porta Potty. She wasn't so into all the softball related stuff - throwing, catching, batting, etc. I think she really liked the t-shirts though.

The other day we went to a baseball game. My sister's kids (three boys) are SUPER sporty. They play every sport known to man and they're good at all of them. We went to watch the oldest one's baseball game and to cheer him on. It was a beautiful day - sunny and clear. We brought camp chairs and sat down to watch the game. The boys were all 5th and 6th graders so I asked Zoe if she knew any of them. She said, "I know the one in the middle".   I looked at the field and looked back at her. 

"The one in the middle? You mean the pitcher??"  That's it. This family is going to sport up starting NOW.

How to raise a child

Nobody really knows how to raise kids, I'm sure of it. Some people are lucky and get great kids straight out of the womb. Others seem to have that magical way about them that makes the wonderful parents from the moment they lay eyes on their babies - full of love, patience, creativity and organizational skills. The rest of us are just stumbling around in the dark searching for answers.

I am currently lost in the dark. I was given a kid that I haven't really ever understood. I'm sure a lot of parents feel that way, especially during the teenage years, but I really don't get him. The things that he does and the choices he makes don't make any sense to me or to anyone around me. At all. He does things that make me cringe, make me scream, make me cry and make me wonder, "What is WRONG with this kid?" And right behind that thought comes, "How can I say that about my own kid?"  Go ahead and tack on the guilt and the shame of it all. That's always super helpful.

And so what to do with this child of mine? From the moment of his birth, I have loved him fiercely and with all of my heart - total Mama Bear. I have felt all of his pain and all of his joy. At times I've questioned whether my love was too much. Whether it blinded me to the person he was becoming. Whether it caused me to handle him differently than I should have. Maybe I should have yelled louder or not yelled at all? Maybe I was too strict or maybe not strict enough? I never really could tell with him. The things that worked on other kids never ever worked on him.

So what's a mother to do? The only thing I really know how to do is to love him, though I sometimes even falter when it comes to that. There are days when I feel like he is intentionally trying to drive me crazy. Truly, absolutely, out of my mind crazy. And then there are days when he is the most loving and selfless child I've ever met. And the pendulum swings from day to day.

Others who haven't walked in my shoes offer their opinion on the situation all the time. They make declarations about what kind of kid he is. They say he's sneaky or that he manipulates me and that he lies. They say he needs more discipline, more rules, more structure, more medication. And that may be true. But listen, there was no training for any of this. I am parenting this kid the only way I know. My instinct tells me that he needs my unconditional love more than anything else in this world and that's what I plan to give him for the rest of his life. No matter what.

I know what you're thinking when you look at him. You think he doesn't act his age. When he was little I used to get stared at in the grocery store all the time. He was always tall for his age. So when he was 3, he looked like a five or six year old. People couldn't understand why he was having a tantrum on the floor! I still feel that way sometimes. He looks like a normal teenage boy. He's 6'2" tall and skinny. He doesn't always give you eye contact and he mumbles a lot. I always thought he was like a puppy with giant paws. He just hasn't quite grown into himself yet. But he will. And when he does he will find his way and he will know that I have always believed in him, loved him and supported him. When others wrote him off and thought he'd never amount to anything, I had faith that he would be ok. He will know that I was his champion from day one and that I will never stop fighting for him.

I think God gives you special skills when he decides which child/children to give you. God must have an awful lot of faith in me. 

Summer Memories from 2012 - Hershey PA

When I was a kid my family took a lot of vacations. We went camping mostly and did a bunch of trips to Florida and a few coast to coast trips as well. I remember when I was about 9 or 10 we went to Hershey, PA. I remember that the whole place smelled like chocolate, there was a ride through the factory and the street lights were made out of Hershey Kisses!! It was utopia for kids as far as I was concerned.


This year, for our family camping trip, we (OK, I) decided to head back to Hershey. The kids were ecstatic, though I was worried that I may have oversold it just a bit. I think they sort of expected the streets to be paved with caramel and the fountains to be spraying chocolate. Kelly couldn't believe that she had gotten roped into the whole damn thing. I will admit, it's "kitschy", but in a homey, "sweet" kind of way.

We pulled into the campground late (around 11:00pm) and in the midst of a thunderstorm. Lots of fun setting up that way. Not. Always nice to see the other campers peering out their windows watching you scramble around trying to get hooked up while they sip their beer. I know it's what I would have done had the situation been reversed.

The campground was great. Two pools, an arcade and a cute store full of, what else, chocolate stuff. The kids rode their bikes around and Mom, Kelly and I took turns chaperoning at the pool. Lots of cooking over the fire and late night bonfires. Kelly even brought out the Eukele for a sing along. Good stuff. 

The next day we went to Chocolate World, we took the trolley ride (complete with sing a-long which the kids and I LOVED) and we went to the amusement park. The kids had a BALL. Loved every minute of it! Everywhere you go people tell you to "Have a Sweet Day". It's kind of their schtick. "But it's CUTE", I kept telling Kelly as she continued to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

Chocolate world is exactly what you'd think it is. A giant store filled with more chocolate, candy and other chocolate related stuff than you can imagine. Christmas ornaments, stuffed toys, coffee mugs, etc. It was enormous. There was also a "ride" inside that you could take to see how they make the chocolate. And there were singing cows on the ride. Talk about an "ear worm". Couldn't get the damn song out of my head for WEEKS. Their subliminal tactic worked. I bought a coffee mug with the stupid cows on it. 

The next day we went to the amusement/water park. It was a great park with lots of fun roller coasters and shows. They even had a zoo in there! It was hot as hell though so that was kind of a bummer. Especially on the day that someone (not naming names) forgot to wear deodorant. Dear God. I searched every gift shop to see if they were selling it but, apparently, that's not a common enough problem for them to stock it. To save ourselves we just went to the water park early...

When we were at the water park enjoying our lunch, something happened. I think that's the point where I lost Kelly completely. We were sitting near a "stage" area and all of a sudden this loud music started blasting out of the speakers. We all looked up and I KID YOU NOT a dancing Hershey Syrup bottle and a dancing Reese's Peanut Butter cup came out. Kelly was in shock. I think they were doing the hustle. It was all a little surreal now that I think back on it. Like, your mind couldn't quite process what was happening. But then the absurdity of it all kicked in and I was hysterical. I even made Emma and Zoe go and dance with the characters. 

Kelly was beside herself. 

But the trip was SO MUCH FUN. It really was. Aside from all the chocolate and "sweet" days and all, it was FUN. All the kids loved it and so did I. If push came to shove, I think Kelly might admit that she loved it too. I am so incredibly blessed to be able to do things like this. To create memories for my kids, to raise them side by side with their cousins, to have family so very involved in their lives. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Even a chocolate one. 

Death of a Llama

Monday was a very sad day at our house. Our faithful, sassy and somewhat misunderstood llama (Manny) died. It was really a pretty horrific thing if you want to know the truth. It involved him getting caught in some wire fencing and getting trapped. I completely freaked out when I found him and called my dad to bring over wire cutters. We got all the wire off but he just wasn't coming back around. He was still breathing but looked to be scared and in pain.

This is always the worst part about pet ownership. The responsibility of playing God and deciding whether an animal will live or die. It's never an easy choice but it's one that has to be carefully considered. After a thorough check and careful consultation with the vet, we decided that the humane choice would be to put him down. I laid on the ground, still in my work clothes and held his head in my lap while the vet gave him the lethal injection. I stroked his ears and kissed his nose. I spoke quietly to him, told him that I loved him and that I appreciated the time I had with him.

The goats were inconsolable. They kept running down the hill, sniffing him and then running away. I don't think they knew what was happening. Although the one goat, Blue, had an altogether different and wholly inappropriate response to the situation. As Dad was on the ground, massaging Manny's neck trying to encourage him to get up, Blue walked up and peed on Manny's head. He also hit Dad's arm. I guess his grief got the best of him. Or he's just a jerk that way. Hard to say with goats.

Only Time Can Fix a Bad Haircut

The kids are still mad at me and I can't say that I blame them. My cheapness caused them shame and embarrassment. But. In my defense, I thought there were some regulations or something that would prevent this type of thing. I think I was mistaken.

I took the kids to a rather well known chain establishment for haircuts the other day. Yes, I did it because it's cheap. No, I did not do it to intentionally ruin their lives. Really.

I mean, let's be honest. The finer salons are clearly not beating down the doors of these particular stylists. Still, they're not just someone off the street right? I mean there had to be SOME schooling involved, didn't there? How hard can it be? It's not like a kids' haircut has all kinds of angles, layers and special maneuvers. Just follow the lines from before. Just a trim. Just "clean it up a bit".  O.M.G.

I actually felt bad when the kids returned to me from the chairs. Really bad. Max had some weird "rooster tail" piece of hair that bobbed around when he walked. His bangs were uneven and he had red scrapes on his neck.

Zoe looked like the stylist had used a weed whip. I still can't quite figure out what she did to make it so bad. I mean seriously, I just asked for a trim. Nothing fancy. No layers, just a straight trim. It looked like the stylist (and I now use that term loosely) may have used dull pinking shears. Zoe looked like she was going to cry.

Some of you may ask why I didn't ask the stylists to fix their mistakes. Well, I had a couple of thoughts about that. It could be that the stylist would be offended and, out of spite, make it worse (if that's even possible). Or, it could be that their skills are so awfully bad that trying to correct it would not only be impossible, it would be catastrophic. I decided that I would just pay for it and get the heck out of there. I swear to you that I clutched the children to me and backed towards the door.

So, you're probably wondering if I've learned my lesson. Have I learned that you get what you pay for? You'd like to think so. Not sure that I have. Budgets aren't for sissies.

Not the Same as a Shot in the Arm

Not the Same as a Shot in the Arm...

I hurt my arm a few months back while I was moving firewood. I kind of thought it would fix itself but it didn't so I decided to go see the doctor. Of course, before I got there I diagnosed myself on the internet and decided that I had “tennis elbow” (I did) so I kind of knew what I was in for. Rest, physical therapy, Motrin, blah, blah, blah. What I was NOT prepared for was the shot of Toradol to help with the inflammation. I get what it is and how it will help and all but I thought we could be civilized about it and put it in my arm. Apparently not. There is something so very embarrassing about getting a shot in the butt. I tried desperately to make conversation with the nurse just to feel better about it but she was all business. She left the room as I was struggling to get my clothes back in order. All I have to remember her by is a band-aid.