Nov. 11, 2009 - Today's Writing Assignment
Sometimes, you have to laugh at the tough stuff in life just to stay sane. Other times, kids present you with something so ridiculously funny that you don't have to work up a good attitude...you have to work at getting a breath in between the giggles.
Nov. 10, 2009 - Ode to the Mattress Maker
The greatest man-made invention, in my opinion, isn't the steam or gasoline engine, or the computer, or even airplanes. I think it's the mattress. The kind the would make Goldilocks very happy, not too hard, not too soft, but just right.
I'm incredibly fond of my bed, made up of a mattress. If I no longer had a computer I wouldn't cry. If flight became a thing of the past I wouldn't worry. If I had to start walking everywhere I would probably grumble and whine, but I would get used to it. However, if I lost the use of a good mattress, I don't think I'd ever get over that.
You may think that I'm a hard-core blogger, but I put more time and effort into being a napper. Sleeping at night is only intensive training for my napping, and like a runner after a good, long run, I find it to have been hard work but well worth it--it gives me a rush. It can be exhilarating and then my body is ready for a good nap to recuperate.
Before the modern bed was invented, people had to sleep on poky straw or feathers. Quite a problem for those with allergies and deadly for those with asthma. Before that it was soft dirt or hard dirt, but I doubt there was ever any "just right" dirt. That's why the bears lived in a house and slept in beds. It wouldn't have been the same story if Goldilocks had wandered into a cave and tested three different bear wallows.
I completely and totally love my bed and all of the cozy comfort that it has to offer. It's just fills my heart with joy to crawl under the covers and snuggle down. Waking up in the morning is most painful. At least I have naps to look forward to.
To whoever invented the modern mattress, I am truly grateful. I wouldn't be half the napper I am now without it.
Nov. 11, 2009 - And Mama...Laughed
Yesterday will go down in infamy, at least in my oldest son's mind. I think my definition of successful parenting has change from raising perfect children to raising children who don't need extensive therapy when they're grown. Days like yesterday make me worry.
Yesterday was shots day. All three boys got one. I was not anticipating a happy time, by any means. However, one of my children went completely off his rocker when he saw the syringes. The oldest one, at that. The other two were more reasonably unpleased with events. They did the "boo-hoo...OOOOWWW!....Waaaah!" thing, and then were fine. Asrat, however, just went bonkers. That's the only way to describe it. He was yelling, jumping up and down in a corner, fighting, angry, and screaming bloody murder (and that was before the needle jab). I'm sure he could be heard all the way out in the waiting room. It took three of us to hold him and when it was through he yelled at the nurse. Needless to say, I was mortified.
But my reaction to this embarassed me too. After spending six years helping him learn to be brave (he tends to be fearful anyway), preparing for this shot and practicing controlling emotions, and then agonizingly long minutes of his over-the-top behavior in the exam room, I had exhausted all capacity for being sympathetic. I had zero soft fuzzy emotions for him at that moment. I hugged him tight and held his arms down, told him it would only hurt for a second. He still screamed the kind of scream a person would normally use when having his toenails pulled out slowly, one by one, with red-hot pincers.
And I laughed at him.
We may never go back to that office again. Between his outrageous behavior and my outrageous lack of parental empathy, I'm convinced that everybody in the office must have believed I was "one of those" parents who should have been denied a liscense to have kids. We certainly turned a lot of heads as we tried (and failed) to escape discreetly after the ruckus we'd just made.
I have confessed my motherly failure to as many people who would listen, hoping, I suppose for some assurance that I haven't scarred my son for life. Surprisingly, though, polls indicate that I am not the only parent who has done this sort of thing, and that most people don't seem to think I'm the most evil mother in the world because of it. Whew!
My mom asked me what I thought a Good Mother would have done in that situation. I realized I had been feeling so guilty because I had a truly silly image of a Good Mother in my head. A Good Mother would have gathered her insane child in her arms, and gazed into his eyes, and emanated calmness and peace with such force that he immediately calmed down, smiled, hopped up on the table and said "I'm OK now. Go ahead and stick me!". Ha! If that is a Good Mother, I guess there's no hope of me ever being one.
Like I said, at this point all I'm hoping for is that they don't spend their adulthoods filleting their souls (and my character) in a counselor's office.
Nov. 10, 2009 - The Cox Chronicle--Latest Edition
I'll try to put all the "new news" in one post, for convenience' sake.
In recent weeks, we'd battled a chicken thief--a red, furry chicken thief. He made off with one, and we caught him in the act with a second, but he sagaciously dropped the hen and made his getaway. (Hubby had to doctor the poor chicken by stitching up a huge gash in her back. He had a surprisingly able assistant in Anna Kate.)
So, in addition to reinstalling and improving the electric fencing around the chicken yard, hubby's taken up yet another side hobby: trapping. To make a long story short, he's downstairs tanning the thief's (or his relative's) hide as I type.
We do have pictures of the skinning process, but I'll spare my sensitive readers. :) The older children were fascinated, and Anna Kate even got a little biology lesson (identifying organs, checking stomach contents, and other gruesome "extras").
We caught the fox on Halloween, and that same day added a new friend to our chicken yard.
He's a handsome Rhode Island Red, same type that fathered our Golden Comets. Once we find an incubator, we will be able to add to our flock!
We had a fun holiday. We went to a little dress-up activity with some homeschooling friends, planned brilliantly, as usual, by the super-amazing local homeschool mom, R.
Indoor marshmallow toasting:
Cowgirls, soldiers, fairy princesses and froggies, oh my!
Ian went as "Guy in a Flannel Shirt":
Anna Kate, as usual, went as Mom's right hand.
Don't know what I'd do without her, and neither does Aidan. Both my big girls are hugely helpful.
Making mask cookies...
We went to the pumpkin patch right down the road a couple of days later and bought carving punkins. Here is Dad's barfing pumpkin:
Lights on...
Lights off...
Once again, I tried roasting the seeds, but even though I boiled them first, the shells were quite crunchy. I liked the spicy recipe better than the sweet.
Last Friday marked week 10 of Classical Conversations. Hard to believe we are almost done with the first semester! We have memorized a large body of material. I say "we," but the children easily out-memorize me. Here is the timeline they have mastered so far:
(FYI: Those last few are not in order, I discovered later. :) )
Eight cards per week! And that's in addition to history sentences, science facts, Latin declensions, math facts, and more. The history timeline is repeated yearly in CC, and I do hope my younger students will be able to stay with the program through the three years' cycles to benefit from repetition (we are in Cycle 1 this year). It's an expensive program (for a family our size) but so very worth the investment!
Of course, my three older students are also mastering grammar and writing in the afternoons. I am thoroughly enjoying sentence diagramming, something I missed out on in school. Anna Kate and Olivia are taking ownership of their writing now, and really blossoming.
We are learning the tin whistle, along with basic music theory, as part of the CC fine arts segment. I was inspired by this gentleman's lessons to take up the tin whistle myself. So far this week, I've gotten in daily practice. I've mastered "Dawning of the Day," but still stumble through "Peg Ryan's Polka." It's fun and motivating, starting right out with traditional tunes. My limited experience with the recorder has helped a bit. Unfortunately, our only remaining computer speakers are on the fritz, so I'm not sure when I'll get to the next lesson.
In other news, we snagged a used woodstove last week, and hubby is preparing to install it to specs, and have it inspected (for insurance purposes). It's a cast-iron stove. We want a soapstone, eventually, but this one will keep us toasty warm and prevent nasty electric bills this winter. Pictures of installation to come...
Yesterday, I thoroughly cleaned and de-cluttered the master bedroom in a desperate search for missing tractor keys. We later found the keys outdoors, but I sure was glad to get a clean bedroom out of it. I can actually relax in there now that the clutter's gone. Naturally, anything I couldn't get rid of went straight to the junk room, but at least it's out of sight. The "decider" can deal with it whenever he sees fit. :) I'd love to tackle the schoolroom next.
The big girls are still involved in riding lessons. We'll take a break when the weather turns truly cold, but we've had nice weather here, for the most part. Mondays ordinarily are riding days, but this week's lesson (Olivia's turn) is on Wednesday. I'm so pleased to see them gaining confidence with the horses. Like our CC work, proper horsemanship takes much practice and repetition. It's starting to pay off! I'm even learning a bit, since I typically catch the tail end of the lesson (literally, as the girls lead the horse back to corral or pasture).
We're eagerly expecting a visit from Mama Cox and Uncle Barry tomorrow. That probably means I should tackle the guest room before the schoolroom. Heh! It's a tangle of clothing containers right now. Our CC family presentation is this Friday, and I hope all our family members will be able to come and see it, as well as introduce themselves to our CC friends. :) We're hoping Daddy can steal a bit of time from his work schedule to be there as well.
Until the next update...God bless you friends!
Nov. 6, 2009 - Grandpa and the Skunk
My grandpa, my Papafather's dad, was a country vet. He had a little office off the side of the house where he did small animal surgery, and exams. He made house calls all around the country, some trips taking him an hour or more to reach the animal in need of help, be it cow, horse, sheep, or pig. Very often he would have one of his children in tow. He had 10 of them so there was no shortage of helpers. It all sounds very James Harriot like, and in a way it was. James Harriot's stories are popular with that side of the family and each story reminds them of one like it that grandpa experienced.
Grandpa's office was, as I said, just off the house. Just off the kitchen to be exact. My grandma had a dutch door put in so that she could just open up the top half to talk to him and yet keep the little ones inside. Think about that. A vet's office, just off the kitchen. Do you recall how a vet's office smells? That smell still lingers in that office to this day and it's been over 10 years since my grandpa died.
Aside from the smell, I never gave grandpa's office much thought. We would traipse our way through it on the way to play outside, to gather in the clothes from off the line, to pick grapes, collect eggs, or to find grandpa. The office doubled as grandma's laundry room so I suppose that's why it didn't seem like a room that needed much attention. I never spent any time in it other than to get from point A to point B. Which is strange now that I think about it, all those fascinating instruments, chemicals, medicines, and the like just within reach. I never touched them or was ever tempted to do so.
One temptation I did give in to was a special barrel out back that held two skunks. Grandpa would warn us to leave those skunks alone. My numerous cousins and I would stand around the barrel peering in, and those skunks would peer back. The lot of us cousins would look for only a moment and then run away as fast as we could before we got sprayed. I didn't find out until I was much older that those skunks couldn't spray because my grandpa had "deskunked" them. I don't know if my cousins were aware of this at the time or not, they ran just as fast as I did. Grandpa's warning hadn't been for us, he had been worried that we would torment the skunks.
Skunks actually make a great pet and are positively darling, if you can legally keep them. My uncle kept one for awhile. She was just like a cat, had a litter box and everything. Her name was Rosie, and then some, but I won't repeat that part.
We have a family story, told every couple of years or so I guess, about grandpa and one particular skunk he was de-scenting. While in the process of removing the gland that contains the hideous skunk musk, it was ruptured. It squirted all of its contents right in my grandpa's face. He came into the kitchen to clean up and the only thing he said was, "It's such a beautiful color." Apparently skunk spray is an amber color, and my God fearing grandpa could still recognize the beauty of God's handiwork even in a skunk's musk.
Funny, while my aunts and uncles roar with laughter about this story every time they tell it, I don't remember anyone talking about the smell lingering in the kitchen or what on earth my grandma said or did. I'll have to ask them about that.
After the laughter dies down, someone will always mention how my grandpa was such a quiet, gentle, and patient man. Oh he had his moments when a cow would stomp him, but how many men do you know who would take it from a skunk and only comment on it's beauty?
Update: I asked one of my aunt's if she remembered grandma's reaction to grandpa coming in smelling of skunk that badly. She didn't really remember, she figured grandma probably dealt with it in stride. Believe it or not there are a lot worse smells a vet can have lingering about his body. My aunt remembers one smell that caused everyone near grandpa to be physically nauseous. Grandpa had to clean out a cow whose calf had died inside her at near full term. The calf had become a decaying mass of jelly, with only bones left. The smell lingered on grandpa for quite awhile--no matter how often he washed or what he tried, the smell wouldn't go away. He actually got infected pores on his arms from cleaning that cow out.
Nov. 5, 2009 - Y.oung M.inds C.acophony A.lbum
When I was a young and silly girl I really wanted a certain record. Yup, I said record. They still existed even though cassette tapes were beginning to make their appearance. The problem was, I didn't own a tape player, I owned a record player.
I can't even remember now how this record made it to the top of my wish list. I'm guessing that what really happened was that I had seen it while digging through the records at the store and it called to my fickle heart. I trotted off to the nearest money source, which just happened to be my Aunt Sissie. I was spending a couple of weeks with her during the summer. Her children were all grown and possibly gone, that part of my memory is a little fuzzy. Anyway, I guess Aunt Sissie saw nothing wrong with indulging me and she bought it. Oh, I was a happy music lover! I listened to that album for years. Perhaps all of two-years.
I have no idea what my mother thought of this present. I don't recall her ever expressing it to me. I may have to ask her about that. I do remember that my aunt loved me and wanted to give me something simple, like a two week invasion of her home and privacy wasn't enough. She was just like that, quietly giving.
So what record sang to me and held my attention for so long? Irwin the Disco Duck In the Navy.
- In the Navy
- Macho Man
- Y.M.C.A.
- Music Box Dancer
- Last Dance
- Knock on Wood
- Le Freak
- Instant Replay
- I Love the Night Life
- Goodnight Tonight
I'm sure it was that dashing figure of a duck in his sailor uniform that caught my eye in the first place. I wanted to join the Navy after all! As one of those grown cousins that no longer lived in the house was in the Navy, it was probably what tipped the scale in my aunt buying it for me. I wouldn't buy anything like this for my own children, let alone my nieces.
It is however a somewhat fond memory, mainly because of my Aunt Sissie. I can't ever hear Y.M.C.A. without thinking of this record, and I can't think of this record without remembering her.
Nov. 4, 2009 - The Common Thread that Weaves My Memories
"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." ~Erma BombeckThat common thread, I know what it is. It's love. Not necessarily for each other, but for the same group of people. For instance, my sister and I are very opposite from each other, but our love for our mother is the only thing that keeps us together. We also love the same aunts, and uncles, and cousins, but it's our mom that keeps us in communication.
I pray that I will always remember the fun my family has had. I don't ever want to forget the good times. I'm going to be writing some of them down, more for my benefit then yours, but I hope that I write them well enough that you can enjoy them too. I want to weave my memories together on "paper" before my mind unravels. I'm not expecting that to happen anytime soon, but I've already noticed that a few strands have been pulled and the edges are wearing.
My mom keeps a box full of all the comic strips that made her truly laugh. She wants to read them when she is old and feeling unhappy. I want the same thing of my memories. In case I can't remember, I can pull one out and hopefully it will help me to remember and I can be happy because my life has been so truly blessed. I may even pull them out before I'm very old, because so often lately I do forget just how blessed I am.
Nov. 3, 2009 - If you've wanted to know where I get my review books....
....Check out the LitFuse button newly installed in my sidebar. They are always looking for new reviewers/bloggers!
Nov. 3, 2009 - Butch Bills and the Sundance Sagerats
Why on earth do I feel like a criminal on the run while keeping one step ahead of financial ruin? To date I've done nothing criminal, nor do I plan to, and yet I feel like I am dodging "the law" of creditors. Just so it's clear, we actually still have good credit, but only due to the grace and mercy of God.
Still, there are days when I think it would just be a whole lot easier if I turned myself in and went to debtors prison. Not that we have that anymore, but I am so weary of this flight into financial freedom. Flight might be a strong word for it--it's more like dragging a penguin on a leash.
On the whole I have no one to blame but myself, we gambled and we are losing, but there have been outside influences that have played their part. Just as a farmer must still depend on the weather in order to produce a good crop, while doing what he can to help it along. Frost, tornados, and hail can all destroy a crop, it shows no mercy to a dedicated farmer or a lazy one.
Remember how I said that our good credit is still only good because of the grace and mercy and God? It's true, but I have several friends who were finally captured by the credit Pinkertons--Bankruptcy and Foreclosure. In no way do I think that God's mercy and grace were pulled away from them, although I'm sure they may feel that way.
I just don't understand how I can feel like I've done something so morally wrong, as if I committed first-degree non-payment, and why I have to keep looking over my shoulder and dodging the long arm of the law, certain that I am about to be caught.
While I know that the enemy can beat me up, there must be a reason why I feel so guilty. I don't think it's all the bad guy in the black hat. No, we didn't spend our money on extravagances instead of paying our bills. I'm not saying that we have always spent our money wisely, but we've not been neglectful either. Yet, have I been a good steward? Sadly, no.
There is only One who can grant me immunity, riding the white horse, swooping down, scooping me up, and riding away into the sunset. Okay, I don't have to wait for the Rapture, He can still save me, but it painted a good picture for my theme, don't you think?
Christ is who I must run to, instead of dodging from payday bush to payday bush, and hiding out in dark caves of no cell-phone service so the creditors can't call. He won't tell me that I don't have to pay my bills and He won't actually pay them for me like He has my sins, but He can give me much needed rest and focus. He still answers prayer! If only I would take the time to actually look for Him instead of at how far away the next payday bush is.
Nov. 3, 2009 - The Old Schoolhouse Magazine--New Christmas Ebook!
Always good stuff from TOS, and this one is free. Click HERE or see the pretty button in my sidebar to download the new free holiday ebook.
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