Tuesday, March 3, 2015

You get what you get!

Today we had music, movement and rhythm with streamers. The children shouted, "I want a (their favorite color) one!" I replied,"It's okay to want, but you get what you get and you don't throw a fit!"

This is what I WANT.

This is what we are suppose to get!

The only thing keeping me from throwing a fit is the prediction of 60 degree weather next week.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Grammy brag

Happy face and I have been spending Monday afternoons together. I just can't get enough hugging and kissing. I ask him what the cat says and he says, "Owww." I ask him how Grampy coughs and he goes, "Aheh-heh."

He loves playing peek a boo with me. He hides my eyes with his bare feet, grins and takes them away, and I say, "Peek-a-boo!"  He giggles and giggles and wants to do it again and again.

Liam hit a milestone recently. He's holding his own bottle and using a sippy cup. He's such a chunky little monkey, he can't support his weight in order to crawl. We place him on his tummy; he fusses, whines and then lays his head down and groans. He scoots a couple inches towards a toy, but he is simply too top heavy. My daughter, his grandma, never crawled either, She started pulling up and then walked.

If this little toothless wonder would ever cut a tooth, his mama would be happy. He's a drooling 8 month old baby who gave up the pacifier at 6 weeks but now wants it and gnaws and gnaws on it. He doesn't like teething rings or toys.

Friday, February 27, 2015

You will never guess who tweeted me!

Thank you all for leaving comments and reading my blog. I appreciate the time it takes.

In one week we will be springing forward, and there will be more daylight, which will make me very happy. I know a lot of people complain about Daylight Savings Time. I rejoice.

Several times last evening we saw flock after flock of geese. Returning, I suppose. I hoped.
Early that  morning when we went out the door, Bill's mockingbird appeared after the winter's absence. It flew right to the picnic table and begged for a bit of egg yolk. I tossed it a strawberry and Bill gave it a bit of egg. It made me happy to see that birdie gulping breakfast.

At 4:00 a.m. it is usually the cat waking me, but this morning it was a teeny little tweet. I laid still and listened. Again, tweet, a moment later tweet, and as it continued I thanked God for my blessings, not the least of which is the birds returning.

That little tweet made me so happy until I realized it was the little twerp in my bed. Bill had a nose whistle, so I nudged him awake, but he went right back to sleep. Can't say that I did.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

The unexpected gifts

So many people are cursing this winter weather, myself included. My friends in New England have feet of snow, not inches. FEET!

Seventeen years ago I was with my best friend Rose. She was in her final days, dying of cancer, wishing she could survive long enough to celebrate one more Christmas, her favorite time of year.

On a cold, overcast November day, with no chance of any precipitation in the weather forecast, we dunked donuts at her kitchen table. Then she laid down to rest.

I walked around her home gazing at her decorative wall groupings. She'd loved having friends over and hosting Home Interior Parties. As I looked at the displays, I remembered us young. I walked past her Grandfather clock, and as it chimed, I realized how fast time was ticking for Rose...me...US.

I walked to the sofa and sat in reflective prayer, questioning, wondering, pleading. And then, two miracles happened. A ray of sunshine burst through a cloud and shone through her window and refracted off her crystal chandelier, splaying rainbows all around her dining room.

I rushed to wake her. "I have a surprise for you. Come see." I helped her shuffle, step by step to the dining room. It took a few minutes, and I hoped and prayed that sunbeam would stay till she could see the glorious colors. She smiled and laughed weakly as those rainbows bounced all over her nightgown. She tried to capture them in her hands, a smile on her face. Then the cloud cover returned, the rainbows disappeared, and the gloom returned.

I helped Rose inch her way to the couch in the living room dragging fifty feet of oxygen hose behind her. As we sat, lost in our own thoughts, her oxygen tank pumping overtime, I parted the drapes behind the sofa and gazed out the picture window. I could not believe my eyes. Huge, hamster-size snowflakes were drifting to the ground covering the yard in  a blanket of soft white. I helped Rose reposition herself so she could see out, which required major effort on her part. But oh what a reward. Silent tears rolled down our cheeks.

I talked to her about the snowfalls when our kids were young and we were neighbors. I reminisced about sledding, building forts and igloos in the backyard, our dogs romping in the snow. "This is your gift," I told her. We sat in silent reverence for fifteen minutes, then I helped get her back to bed.

Rose did not live to see another Christmas, but together she and I witnessed her last snowfall.

Above those wintry, frustrating snow clouds, I realized as Rose slept, there was hope... hope everlasting.   

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Help a fellow blogger?

Heather Von St. James http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather/#.VNk3bfnF9VI writes a compelling tale about her diagnosis of mesothelioma three months after having her baby. If you have time, stop by her blog and read her story about this killer disease, and give her some support. Thanks my friends. Pass this link on to friends or post on social media, won't you please?

Here in our little section of St. Louis, the streets are passable but slick. The snow was minimal, the ice pellets started hitting our windows about 10:30 p.m. and there are many snow closing on this Saturday morning.

I think once I can ditch these fuzzy socks and lace up shoes, my flip flop eating, my flip flop writing, my flip flop moods will level out when I can slip into my bare feet into my flip flops. Also once my blog allows me to post photos again, I have some cute ones for you.

Anyone know how to fix my blog problem? Thanks. 

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Sometimes you just have to enunciate better, and even then, it doesn't help.

 Hubby and I were driving to the store. A tune came on the radio that made me bebop. I looked over at him, touched his hand and said, "Remember when we used to polka, baby?"

His head snapped around. "WHICH one?"

"All of them."

"Impossible. The only two we ever had was Ashley and Kyle. I do remember dropping him on his head, though. Is that what you're talking about?"

He was as confused as I was.

"You never DROPPED him on his head. You placed him in a toy wagon when he was a year old and it tipped backwards when you pulled the handle. It was only a couple inches off the ground. You did NOT drop him on his head."

"Well what are you talking about? Which baby did we poke?"


"OH, I thought you said, 'Remember when we poked a baby? ' "

Roll out the barrel...Oom pah-pah, life is a barrel of fun!

Saturday, February 14, 2015

He is such a story teller

We are having a bit of a dispute as we celebrate our 21st anniversary. He remembers our first date differently than I do. We agree on one thing. Food was involved.

What I remember is we were slow dancing, and he asked if I would like to grab a bite to eat afterwards. We went to a restaurant and sat across from one another in a booth making small talk— I gracefully nibbling a salad and he gobbling his meal.

He claims that I was boogying in the booth, smiling and bouncing from cheek to cheek, because I was so happy to be with him and enjoying my meal so much. When we got outside, he says I asked if he minded if I unzipped my jeans. He was taken aback by my boldness. Yeah right!

It is true, early in our relationship, he did take me to Lambert's Restaurant, Home of the Throwed Rolls, in Sikeston, MO. It's a country cooking style restaurant (two hours from home) with a Cracker Barrel Restaurant feel and hour long lines. The waiters push carts around with pots and bowls of fried potatoes, okra, and stewed tomatoes which they ladle onto your plate, and they have pans of hot rolls each one bigger than a fat man's fist. They toss those rolls right to (at) you. I ducked and blushed as mine hit the floor. Then I got into the groove, reached for the next one and ate myself silly. I did enjoy my meal as I have never enjoyed another. Possibly, I shifted happily in my seat and smiled frequently. I can see how it appeared I might have been dancing. I did eat so much I MIGHT have asked him if he minded if I unzipped my black jeans.

But it was not our first date.
His time frame is off by half a year.

Ever had a roll tossed at your head? Better put both hands up if you go to Lamberts.