Clay

When I was in high school, my first job was life-changing really. My (private) mom called me and told me that Gail needed a babysitter for her two boys. I knew Gail by name only. She had worked with my mom at a local hospital in the same department. My mother had left that job to go to work for Gail's husband, a local physician. Mom liked them, it was Summer, and like most 16-year-olds, I needed the money.  I also happened to love kids, so I agreed.

I met these two little boys, and thought they were precious. The two-year-old, Edward was so smart. He talked so well- in full paragraphs- and I was amazed at his vocabulary. The baby, Clay, was two-months-old and he was a perfectly fat baby with big dark blue eyes. We played chase, played in the backyard, and had a great time. The baby would drink his bottle, and when he got sleepy, he would throw his arm over his eyes. He wanted no light at all, it seemed. I thought it was adorable.

After the first few times I babysat, Gail made a proposition: would I want to go work at her husband's office and help Liz, the employee who filed the insurance claims. Absolutely! Gail checked with my (private) mom and it was agreed. The great part about the job was that if Gail needed me to come babysit, she could just call the office. It was a win-win. (Except maybe for my private mom since I was anything but....)

The weeks became months. I fell in love with the boys. The whole family, really. They were in the process of buying and renovating a house, and I would often come over and babysit while Gail was running errands or meeting contractors for the house. I laughed when Edward only wanted to have chicken a la king for lunch. I thought Clay's fangs were adorable when he cut those before his top two middle teeth. I picked Edward up from his Mother's Day Out class at the church around the corner on occasion. I took pictures of them, went to birthday parties, and eventually asked if I could just use Gail's camera to take even more pictures of the boys even if she was gone, to which she agreed. (Before digital. I can't imagine how many I would have taken with one of those!)

I babysat while their parents went out on weekends and I would laugh as Edward hid behind the couch, afraid of the Wicked Witch- every time-even though he chose that video. I thought it was precious when Clay-not yet 18 months old- would boo and hiss at the television when Cruella Deville's shadow appeared in the doorway. I laughed when Clay called me "Shamie" when he couldn't pronounce his "J" and I re-learned his nickname when he called himself Clay-ton (rhyme with "on") the Crouton, copying his daddy, and we all went back to "Clay" or "Clayton" so he would know his proper name. I laughed when Clay, seeing his mother's disgust that the stubborn cat had, once again pooped in the bathtub, went to the door and said, "Throw kitty? Throw kitty, Mama?" (No cat was ever harmed for any concerned about Zibby.)

Eventually, I went on vacations with this sweet family and spent a lot of time at their house. They treated me so kindly. The dad joked around with me at the house and at the office. He got frustrated with me at times, too, but I deserved it. He was a detail-oriented man with a very laid-back babysitter. I loved him and Gail and they were good and fair.

The boys had the same birthday, two years apart. Edward and I got along splendidly, but as Edward grew and went to Preschool and then to Kindergarten, Clay happily tagged along as second siblings do. He had the cutest toddler walk and those eyes got lighter and lighter blue. Eventually Clay went to the Mother's Day Out class and I got to watch them grow. It was the best job! I was being paid to do exactly what I wanted!

When Clay was not yet two, he locked himself in a small bathroom toilet area that had a pocket door and I could not get the door unlocked. I went around to the window, and there was no way I was getting through there. Gail and Dr. E had gone to an important meeting. I didn't dare page them. (This was before texting and cell phones.) I finally called the contractor, Mr. Gary, who came over and let Clay out of the bathroom. I talked to Clay the whole time he was in there, while visions of him plunging forward into the toilet and drowning wallowed in my head. (This is the same contractor who pulled the car out for me when I got it stuck in the mud at the end of the driveway.) I had exciting times with these boys!

When Edward was about five, I happened to be babysitting for another family and I was dropping their little girl off at a slumber party. A child there asked if we knew Edward because the cops were at his house because he was missing. I panicked. I put the other child back in the car, and shaking involuntarily, I drove to the house less than two miles away. I prayed and cried. I know the little boy  in the car with me probably wondered what was wrong with me. I told him everything was fine, but it wasn't. My Edward was missing! When I pulled up, there he was. Gail had been crying. Dr. E. looked anxious, but Edward was there. Safe. Relieved, I got out of the car and just hugged him. It was then  that I realized how badly I was shaking. For his part, Edward did not look happy. He would not tell  anyone where he was, though they knew he had been in the house. He didn't respond in the house when the police called him, but as the K9 dog was smelling one of his shirts from the dirty clothes to get a good scent, he appeared. The whole thing had upset him, and the next day he told me that he had fallen asleep beneath the claw foot sofa in the formal living room and just hadn't heard them.

Ball games. Legos.  School performances. Movies. Dinosaurs. The town fair (where I paid for them to be in an antique western-themed photo for their parents for Christmas).  I even had a photo album of just these two precious boys.

When the boys were 11 and 9, I moved to Austin. After years of ball games, swimming, and movie nights it was a new beginning for me and it was time to move on. A year or two later,  the family came to Austin and Clay wanted to come out to our house and spend the night. (I was a newlywed then.) The winding roads made him sick to his stomach. I told him he might want to reconsider being a fighter pilot, joking with him.

I had babies and the boys got older. I visited when I would go to town, but as they became teenagers, I didn't think a couple of big boys would want to see little toddlers running around. I did keep them when their parents went out of town and I brought Sarah with me while I was pregnant with Brett. A couple of years later I went to Edward's graduation and we went to dinner afterwards.

I didn't see them but a couple of times after that, but Facebook hit the scene around then and I could message them. Most of the time they didn't respond right away, but eventually I would get a response. Clay sent me a message on my birthday commenting how I had kept him and Ed in line. (He was "Ed" now. Sniff.) He would be in Austin in the near future and would I want to meet him? Of course! How is school? Graduated! No- can't join SEALS because of a past broken jaw. Going a different route. Excited! And my last message I sent Clay was  wishing him Happy Thanksgiving. And I told him that my kids were in the car watching 101 Dalmatians and it always reminded me of him.    

On January 31, after shopping for something to wear to my brother's rehearsal dinner to be held that night, I got home and my husband was on my heels following me back to our room. My sister told  the kids to go outside with her. I thought Randy was upset that we were running late. Oh, I wish!

"Honey, I'm going to tell you something and you're not going to like it." He looked different.

"What?"

"Clay died."

Whirlwind Days

I cannot believe it is already October! 2013 has been a good one for our family, with a few twists and turns along the way, but overall we can see the blessings all around us.

My kids are now at three different schools. Fortunately, the baby (as we still call her) only goes twice a week. She is at a local pre-school that she loves. She excitedly wakes up and announces, "I go to school!" I pick her up after her nap and she tells me, "Daddy take me to school." In the past week, her daily "report" has changed from "Quiet" to "Talkative".  My baby tends to study things first before diving right in. I am hoping that trait follows her into adulthood. She adores her daddy and stays near him when he gets home, but will quickly tell him, "I Mama's girl." She actually received a 9-week report card this week! It was very revealing to us as far as her social skills. She knows her shapes, colors, and most of her letters, but the report card indicated that she knows her first name, but not her last name. So I tried talking to her about her last name. She was adamant. Her name is Elizabeth. Period. She is so much fun. I could not have even imagined how good and kind her brother and sister are to her.  (Favorite toy? Babies!)

Sarah started middle school this week, and boy did we get off to a rocky start! They hit the ground running, and you had better not miss a thing. She was asking to be homeschooled by the second week of school. Sarah had hours of homework every night. I did not want to be a "helicopter mama" but I wasn't sure how much my child could take. (She was going in early, doing homework during Advisory, and not wasting time when she got home.) I quickly discovered that one (well-intentioned) teacher was causing the most grief, and it was a grade-wide problem. That seems to have been resolved. I checked Family Access today and discovered that my precious daughter who wanted to drop out of school seven weeks ago, made the A-Honor roll. (Teachers may enter more grades this weekend and grades are not finalized for a few days, but it looks promising.) My thoughtful, precious girl! I am so proud of her and so happy for her! (New instrument? Flute!)

Brett is my only elementary school child- the place with which I am most familiar.  He is in Scouts and soccer. He did NOT make all-A's, but he only missed it by a couple of points.  Brett is never completely sure if his spelling test is this week or next week. While Sarah studies on Thursday for a Tuesday test, Brett isn't even sure there is a test. He is the kid who has such potential and you want to shake him and tell him to be driven.  But he cares after the fact.  When we praised Sarah for her grades, he got upset. I explained that his grades were very good as well, and that he should be proud.  Not to be a "we're all winners" mom, I did (kindly) explain that perhaps if he had studied a wee bit more, he might have pulled the high B's up.  I can't get too mad at him though. I was him! I just wasn't as insanely curious about things as he is. But he is funny- oh my goodness, he makes us laugh! And I am so proud of how sweet he is to his baby sister, who is NOT always so nice to him. (Favorite pastime? Minecraft!)

My husband turned 50 this year and I turned 40. This whole "older and wiser" thing is a big fat lie. I am not wiser. I say the wrong words, I forget things, and I have aches and pains, but I am still here.  I am trying to be a Christian example for my family and loved ones, but repeatedly kick myself for my sins and mistakes, while taking great pleasure in my forgiveness through Christ. I am grateful for friends who see past my flaws and hang out with me despite them. :)

I am teaching again two days a week! I have been blessed with the opportunity to homeschool/ tutor a child, and it has been wonderful! She is the sweetest girl and it is definitely different to teach one-on-one.  I am in LOVE with the Shurley English curriculum.  This Third Grader is learning English rules/ writing in a way that makes the most sense to me by far. I am hoping to take this fabulous information and utilize it in a classroom setting when I go back to teaching in public schools. (Luckily, Elizabeth is my youngest and when she starts kindergarten, I can take her with me so if I cannot get hired in our neighborhood school, we will have other school options.)

Both of the older kids went to church camp this year. They loved it and Brett had memorized half of 2 John. He was determined to memorize the whole thing, but his studying had slowly tapered off. This week, a man who worked closely with Brett at camp sent him the most encouraging post card! It truly brought tears to my eyes and it clearly touched my son. It was so nice to see that someone thought about and cared for our son's spiritual well-being! (It also encouraged me to send notes much more often.)

My parents are here for my younger brother's "couples" shower for his upcoming wedding! What a joyous time for Greg and Kristina and we are so happy for them! I love it when my folks are here.  My husband and kids do, too. The shower is in the very church building where my mother was baptized before I was born. The older I get, the more sentimental I get about "tidbits" of history.

Busy months ahead and prayers for some wonderful friends. A couple of babies due, a couple of friends who need a little baby dust their way, and some friends who have lost loved ones...life just keeps going. God is good.

BEST Sweet Potato Casserole recipe

(Thanks to Suzie and Mary for this yummy recipe!)

Grease casserole dish (8 X 8 or 9 X 13)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Bottom:
2 c sweet potatoes (drained/ mashed)
1 c margarine
2 eggs
1/3 c Pet milk
3/4 c sugar
1 TB vanilla

(Mash sweet potatoes and add other ingredients.)

Topping:
1 c chopped pecans
1 c brown sugar
1/2 c flour
1/3 c margarine

Mix topping ingredients until crumbly. Sprinkle on top of sweet potatoes. Bake 30-35 minutes.

It is absolutely wonderful- more like a dessert

Marriage

I got married nearly 13 years ago.  I have to admit, I thought I loved him that day.  Honestly, I wasn't sure if I loved him as much as he deserved. I had dated a guy who broke my heart a couple of years before I met Randy, and the whole experience left me a bit jaded, to say the least.  I never regained that "innocent, happily ever after, everything will work out splendidly" outlook that I had once.  (I now see that outlook synonymous to arrogance.) I didn't think enough of myself to believe that my husband wouldn't eventually regret his decision. Even after the boyfriend  break-up, my criteria for a husband was straight-forward and never changed, but mostly for my future children. My mother so wisely told me growing up: "Marry a man who will raise your children in church, teaching them the Bible. You need to know that if you died while giving birth, your children would still be raised in a Godly home." So I married this extraordinarily nice man who made me laugh. He immediately came to church services with me (before we married), and he clearly had a heart of gold. And I loved him. We had fun.  We waited a year and a half and we were told (at a dr's appointment to discuss possible infertility issues) that we would be parents.  It was my husband's birthday.  We had a girl, as Randy had predicted.  Two years later we added a baby boy. And I still loved my husband. We were mostly a happy family, but I still had my own issues.  I had the "baby blues" after my son was born.  Just for a little while, but it was enough that I decided afterwards that if we had another baby, I would consider anti-depressants rather than "work through it" and miss out on the sheer bliss that should come with a new baby. We still had fun, but I think that we had boring, monotonous days more often.  And that was okay because, in hindsight, those are often the very best days.  And I still loved my husband.  It wasn't always easy though. I remember telling him once, "Sometimes I love you more than I ever thought I could, and then ten minutes later, I think really bad things about you." He just laughed.  I think I figured out a long time ago NOT to say anything right away when I have a complaint. Or if I am just irritated. I also figured out that whoever said not to go to sleep angry is crazy. Sometimes, after a good night's sleep, you wake up refreshed and the whole incident seems a little less important. (Might I add, a baby is a family adjustment for everyone.)

Fast forward to 2012. One more baby later (with no post-partum emotional issues, thankfully), and I still love my husband. He is still here, and he is still fully vested in our family. We are so incredibly busy, but there is a lot of love in our home. And my issues are mine- I can't dislike myself for something and assign those feelings to Randy. It isn't productive and it isn't fair. 

I still have issues that just seem to grow some days. The other night I just poured out my heart to my husband.  I have had a hard time the last few months, and he listened. He offered a lot of insight without judgment.  I wondered why I had waited weeks to talk to him- it was like a weight had been lifted. I love and respect him so much. And I'll be honest- the day I married him was nice, but I didn't really love him then- not compared to how I feel about him now. 

One of the boys...(part one)

My brother Jeff is three years younger than me, and he has always been more introverted when it comes to his emotions.  I think I understood him from a young age, though, and we got along well.  We were the two Night Owls (out of five kids) and when school was out, we would stay up late watching Channel 7 (CBN) as they broadcasted old television shows. We watched George Burns and Gracie Allen, Jack Benny, Bachelor Father, I Married Joan, Dobie Gillis and Blondie on a regular basis. Typically we would get tired and go to bed around 2 am when the 700 Club would come on.  Jeff and I, along with my younger brother Greg, would also spend every Saturday night from 10pm until midnight watching World Class Championship Wrestling (KTVT Channel 11) starring the Von Erichs.  Oh, how we believed those story lines! At least to a certain degree.  While other kids wanted toys from the store, my brothers always got Pro Wrestling Illustrated magazine. We played baseball together, we played tag football, and we had Friday night "snack night" when our parents would let us have sandwiches and chips for dinner while we watched The Dukes of Hazzard.

It seems like we did all of those things for years, but in the Sixth Grade I matured a little and began hanging out at the skating rink with my friends.  The Von Erichs weren't my heroes any longer.  The baseball and football games slowly ceased as the neighborhood grew up.  Even then, it made me a little sad.

I still love my brothers dearly, and I believe that Jeff and I are still the Night Owls. He has two teenagers and two little girls, and he adores them. I have my three.  We are both teachers.  He is still not one to be overly emotional, but I really think that my childhood was so special- and he is a big reason.

So Little Time...

I am completely new at "blogging". I know several friends have done it for awhile, but I never really felt like there was a need since there are so many other social media sites that keep us updated, but then I decided that this is really for ME. These words are for my reflection and enjoyment. Someday I hope to reflect on this special time and see that, although I had my moments of angst, I thoroughly enjoyed the life with which I have been blessed.

Is blogging similar to a journal? I suppose...one without the more private feelings and thoughts that I might put on paper.  I try to document cute things the kids do- but the busier we get, the more often I think, "Oh, yeah...I need to remember to write that down." A week later I can't remember EXACTLY what was said, and I feel like that "moment" slipped away. And, I suppose, truthfully it did.  I am learning that it is okay...I am not a horrible mom if I forgot to document the EXACT date that Elizabeth cut her sixth tooth. (I actually did that with my older two- and guess what? Not ONCE have they asked!) If Brett says something too funny, chances are, he will say something even funnier again.  I think I take thousands of photos because they are moments of a diary, a "photo journal". Often, I can look at a picture and remember.  A friend recently told me that we are forgotten by all roughly fifty years after our death, on average.  I suppose my photos are so that I can remember and my kids will remember. But guess what?  At some point, unless the good Lord returns between now and then, those pictures will be on my ancestors' family tree.  Or in a trash can.  I remind myself that nothing- NOT ONE THING- is more important than teaching my children about God and His plan of Salvation. I used to hear Old Testament stories when someone would be told that their ancestors would suffer, and I would think, "I don't understand that. Who cares about what happens two hundred years from now?" After having these three wonderful little souls, I GET IT. I have seen so many parents heartbroken that their grandchildren are not being reared with a reverence for God. I am hoping and praying that I instill those values in my children. I am extremely blessed that I married a man who feels the same way.

My first "baby" is 10-years-old.  She is in her last year of elementary school.  I have gotten the eyeroll a time or two lately, to which I quickly responded.  Generally, she is extremely thoughtful and caring.  If she remains this easy to raise, I will consider myself extremely lucky. She plays soccer, piano, and she sings in a childrens' choir.  She is extremely creative.  She makes good grades and she has a terrific work ethic.  Her teachers generally love her, as she tries to exceed their expectations. (I had one teacher stop me and tell me how much he admired her self-discipline and work ethic. Wow!) She is my go-getter. In that respect, she is her daddy's daughter.

My second "baby" is 8-years-old, and my only boy.  He is a Third Grader, and he does not miss a THING. Randy and I are often interrogated the next day about private discussions downstairs while he is (supposed to be) sleeping upstairs. He is gentle and feisty and loyal and talkative all wrapped up in a cute boy package.  I have to remind myself that he is only a little boy because he can have some fairly deep discussions, and he is intuitive.  He hates transition, but I'll leave that one alone..."He is talkative, but sweet." That is the quote I get from his teachers. He is knowledgable about quite a few things, but he has to learn (as do I, at times) to stop talking to learn more and that we can learn something from everyone.

My third baby is truly a baby at nearly 20-months-old.  She is a funny, spoiled, loved little girl.  That child can do ANYTHING and there is an audience of four just laughing and cheering her on. "Oh, Mom! She said my name really well that time!" "Look, Mom! She made prayer hands!" She gets so much attention.  She really is funny.  She has done a few quirky things nearly since birth.  She seems to absolutely love music and Adele's "Someone Like You" could get her to stop crying in the car from 2-months-old on.  She still gripes at us if we try to talk in the car while she is listening to her music. And the video for "Baby Mine" has been played hundreds of times since she was less than 2-months-old, to which she would immediately look at the screen wide-eyed.  Her vocabulary is increasing rapidly.  I love to watch her learn. Having two so much older is an adventure.  I do feel a little bad that she is going to be playing by herself more than her older sibs, but it will be what she knows. It will be a little different, but it will be as good as we can make it. 

As for me? I am on the cusp of 40, but that is fine.  My age doesn't bother me nearly as much as my weight. I am working on that, but I can't let it define me.  I am God's child, Randy's wife, Sarah's, Brett's, and Elizabeth's mama, and Mike's and Janette's daughter, as well as Julie's, Jennifer's, Jeff's, and Greg's sister (with special memories attached to each one of them).  My flaws are many, but so are my strengths, though focusing on my flaws seems to take up more of my day than it should. I stick my foot in my mouth some, but am learning to do it less and less. I dwell on my mistakes.   I am conflicted, yet resolved. I am a teacher (a career I love), currently on hiatus with my baby.  I love, love, love my family and I thank God for them every day.