Unexpected, Unlooked-for, and Unusual

Unexpected

I have another nephew!  No, it's not "I didn't know I was pregnant" unexpected, but unexpected nonetheless.  His mom was scheduled to have a C-section later this month.  He decided Sunday was a much better day to be born.

With his two siblings, I was in the hospital within hours of their being born.  Unfortunately, in the five and a half years since then, my kids have grown and I added two more kids to our family.  I can't just jump and drive to Louisville any ol' time I want.

Good news, though.  Giant just happens to have a soccer tournament in Louisville this weekend.  On Saturday afternoon, I'll be holding this precious little bundle.

I can't wait.

Unlooked-for

Beauty can be found in the oddest of places.  We just need to slow down and find it.

Look for the unlooked-for.  I'm guessing, if you do, you'll be surprised.

Unusual

My mom knew how to mess with us kids.  You've heard about her lying.  You've heard about her pranks.  You haven't heard about the heart-stopping jumping.

Picture it.  An innocent little girl leaves her room to go help her mom in the kitchen*.  Except her mom isn't in the kitchen.  She's hiding around the corner from the little girl's room, patiently waiting for the girl to walk her way.  As the girl comes around the corner, the mother jumps out of hiding, yelling, "Boo!"  The girl screams.  The mom laughs. 

This was my childhood.

Once I got over the original fright, and my mom stopped chanting, "I got you!" we would laugh.  And within a week, when she least expected it, I would get her back.

It was our thing.  We grudgingly gave it up a few years ago when she had to have a heart stent put in.  I am not going to be the one forever known as The One Who Gave Mom a Heart Attack.

As a mom myself, I have continued this unusual family activity with my own kids.

Just this morning, I heard Cuckoo holler for me and run to find me.  I immediately jumped up to hide around the corner.  Turken saw me, so I gave him the universal "Shh" sign.  He got a glint in his eye and a grin on his face, excited to see how it would all go down.  He knew what was coming.

As Cuckoo rounded the bend, I jumped out and yelled, "Boo!"  He got that terrified look on his face and screamed for a fraction of a second.   I held my breath until he figured it out and started laughing.  Then all three of us laughed together.

He'll try to get me back soon.  Lucky for me, he's only three.  I'll just have to pretend I'm scared.

It's the big kids I have to watch out for.  They're getting pretty good at it.

Have a lovely day!

*OK.  That's a lie.  I never left my room to willingly help my mom in the kitchen.  I was probably going to the kitchen just to be sullen and annoyed in her presence.  I was a bit of a pain as a preteen.

T Is for Thespian and Tech Crew

I sat in the middle of the theater, completely clueless as to what was about to happen.

For the past three months, I've purposely avoided discussing it.  I wanted to be surprised.  Fortunately, I have a quiet, shy boy who only talks when forced, so it wasn't difficult.

It started as most musicals do.  A full-cast song and dance.

Seventy 7th and 8th graders giving it their all to impress the sold-out crowd.

All clearly nervous, but trying their very best not to show it.  We parents can tell.

We all strain our necks, trying to pick out that one teenager for whom we are there. 

We take a glance at the leads, as their voices harmonize.

We notice the couple of boys who have rhythm, owning the dance they have been taught.

The stage clears, the lights go out.

When the spotlight pops on, there, all alone, is my baby boy.

In a costume I have never seen.

In stage make-up I did not apply.

Standing behind a desk I did not decorate.

I bought the pretend microphone into which he is pretending to speak.  That's it.

My shy, quiet, reserved little boy bellowed, "Yo,Yo,Yo Wildcats!"

He was articulate.

He was animated.

He was funny.

He completely surprised me.

It was awesome.

And he did it over and over again throughout the show.

It makes my heart sing to see my kids step out of their little comfortable selves and try something completely new and unexpected.

Well, folks, this was unexpected to say the least.

The music teacher at our children's school is a wonderful lady.  She actually gets all but a handful of the 580 students to stand up and sing solos in front of their classmates.  She has kids lined up wanting to be the cantor at the Wednesday all-school Masses.   And for those that cannot sing on key (like Phoenix) she will say, "This song just isn't right for your voice.  How about you do...." 

And she put Phoenix in a role that involves no solo singing, but lets him shine nonetheless.

She saw something in him, and encouraged him to try.

After each of the three performances, my phone would start dinging.

"I had no idea Phoenix had it in him."

"When did Phoenix start talking?  I've never heard him speak that many words at once before."

"Phoenix was my favorite character in the entire play.  I had no idea he was such a ham."

"Tell Phoenix he did a great job!  When did he get to be so funny?"

And these were from people that know us.  People who actually have my elusive cell phone number.

As the theater emptied, I saw scads of people stop to talk with Phoenix.  Praising him.  Encouraging him.  High-fiving him. 

And I saw Phoenix become more and more confident.

Buttercup, Phoenix, and I had a conversation not too long ago about how Phoenix seems to lack confidence in himself.  The way he (doesn't) talk.  The way he moves.  The way he hangs back unless someone approaches him.  He's always been like that, but this last year, with his growing 6 inches taller, it has become even more noticeable.

All in fun, we dubbed him "Awkward Giraffe".  It fit him.  He agreed.

During this week of performances, his awkward giraffishness faded. 





I can't wait to see how he continues to grow and mature and become confident in himself as the years go by.  From what he showed us this week, it should be lots of fun to watch.

*************


When the auditions took place, Buttercup was unable to audition.  She was committed to doing other things, and just had too much to do.

Three weeks ago, the music teacher approached her and said, "We only have one sound tech.  Can you be at the rest of the rehearsals and help out?"

She couldn't have been more excited.

This play has a TON of sound cues to hit.  Phones ringing, boom boxes being turned on, pianists starting their pieces, intros for her brother, not to mention all of the musical numbers.  It was a lot of work. 

She nailed it.

In the musical's program, there was a note from the music teacher.  It read, "To Buttercup and (another girl), You are the playmakers.  Thank you for doing such a great job."

Sitting up in that sound box, high above the crowd, she looked important.  She looked confident.  She looked like a beautiful young woman, sure of her role.

I teared up numerous times this weekend.   My babies aren't babies anymore.

Have a lovely day!

Shiners, The Life of

Day One:

Child gets hit in the eye with a baseball when he walks right in front of the ball with which his biggest brother is playing.  The eye becomes swollen and a bit dark in color.

Day Two:

The swelling is gone, but the eye area becomes blacker and redder. 

Day Three:

Helloooooo Black Eye!  (The runny nose is completely unrelated.  I promise, I got the boy a Kleenex right after I took the photo.)  He was not happy about me taking his photo.  I had to sneek up on him.

Day Four:

Still black, but with a slight tint of green mixed in.  I only got photographic evidence because I promised him he could look at the photo if he just let me take one.  We've gone in public for the first time since the baseball episode, and everyone he sees asks how he hurt his eye.  He gives half-hearted answers.

Do not ask me why he is wearing a winter hat on the first day we don't even have to wear coats to go outside.  He had mittens on, too.  It's just to mess with me.  No hat when it snows, hat when it's 65 degrees.  He's trying to wear me down.  It's almost working.

Day Five:

Green and yellow become the prominent colors.  He's even less willing to get his daily photo taken. I may have bribed him with Easter candy.  When people ask him how it happened, he simply turns and walks away.

Day Six:

His eye is now vomit colored.  When he sees me taking out the camera, he yelled, "No, you cannot take a photo of my eye!!"  When someone asks how he did it, I can hear him cussing in his head.

Day Seven:

The eye is still greenish/yellowish.

The look he gave me said, "Don't even try it.  That camera won't work so well when it's in 10 pieces on the floor." 

When we leave the house, he keeps a constant scowl on his face, deterring any and all inquisitive adults.

Moral of the story:

If you don't want to talk to people or get your photo taken, don't walk in front of a baseball.

Have a lovely day!

R Is for Rain

For my entire life I have been singing this song every time it rains at inopportune times:

Rain, rain, go away.

Come again another day.

If you don't, I don't care.

I'll pull down your underwear.

Point made with just a touch of nonsensical immaturity.

I recently discovered that those are not, in fact, the correct words.  It is supposed to be sung:

Rain, rain, go away,

Little Johnny wants to play.

Rain, rain, go away,

Come again another day.

I don't find that version nearly as enjoyable.  Sure, it makes more sense, but it's not nearly as much fun.

Either way, I am not singing it this week.  We have had four days of thick clouds and frequent bursts of downpours.  In my younger days, (last year) I would have been very unhappy with such weather.  My older and wiser self is embracing it.

I thought I'd write a new song.

Rain, rain, stay and play.

Pour on down all through the day.

When you do, fields do flood,

And soccer practices and soccer games and Boy Scout campouts get postponed.

Remember how I said our week would be the busiest of the year?  Not so much when soccer and camp gets cancelled.  Some practices and games have been a go, and the musical has taken up quite a bit of time, but overall, muuuuuuuch easier.

While I do feel badly for the people who were hit with the golf-ball sized hail the other day (just a couple of miles from our house (which caused every single window in Phoenix's classmate's house to be broken)) I'm not sad about the rain.

There's really only one thing about the rain causing me some anxiety.

 

 

Weeds and grass grow really fast.

 

And the battery on our lawnmower died.  I can't recharge it until the threat of rain ends and Hubby is home to help me tow the mower closer to the house. 

 

By the time those two things align, the kids will be playing hide-n-seek in the grass by merely kneeling down.  Shoot, Cuckoo won't even have to duck.

 

And what are the chances that the kids have picked up aaaaaall the bats, balls, Frisbees, shovels, and rackets to make my mowing uneventful?

 

Zero.   Zip.  Zilch.

 

And what are the chances that I won't accidentally run over a dead animal camouflaged by the tall grass?

 

Even smaller.

 

Can't wait.

 

Have a lovely day!

Questions in the Form of a Quiz

The new pigs are here!  The new pigs are here!   I'm somebody now!

Things are about to get real up on this farm.

We've had a nice little break from animal chores this winter, but the days of lazin' around are over.

In honor of the pigs, and because Q is a stupid letter that has very few words to use, I've decided to quiz you all.  I've mentioned pigs on this here blog several times over the years.  How much have you learned?

Don't worry.  It's an open-blog quiz.

1.  Pigs are pink.
     a.  True
     b.  False
     c.  All of the above



Hint, hint.

2.  Put these animals in order of their intelligence, from most intelligent to least.
     a.  pigs
     b.  chickens
     c.  dogs
     d.  children - I'm not going to put a link.  Just about every post will help you.


3.  Pigs are social creatures, preferring to be in a group, especially when taunting the dogs.
     a.  True
     b.  False



Behind the safety of an electric fence and an actual fence, the pigs enjoy testing the dogs' collars.

4.  Why do farmers castrate their male pigs?
     a.  The male hogs get too aggressive otherwise.
     b.  The meat will not taste right otherwise.
     c.  The farmer's wife has enough testosterone running around.

5.  When should one tell her children about castration?
     a.  When they ask if the pig is a boy or girl.
     b.  At the same time they learn about the birds and the bees.
     c.  Don't bother.  They will learn about it at school.

6.  Which of the following can a pig NOT do?
     a.  Run faster than a toddler.
     b.  Sit on his hind-end.
     c.  Lie on his back.
     d.  Lift a gate off its hinges in order to escape.

Gotta say, this is the first time I have ever seen a pig sit like this.

7.  How long do we keep the pigs?
     a.  Until a coyote kills them.
     b.  Until they are big enough to ride.
     c.  Until I get tired of feeding them.

8.  How do the kids feel about the pigs going to the butcher?
     a. Happy, as they get to go to school late one day and take a task off the chore list.
     b.  Sad, as they were good friends with the pigs.
     c.  Indifferent, as they didn't pay attention to them anyway.
     d.  Confused, wondering, "What's a butcher?"

9.  How do we get the pigs to the butcher?
     a.  We don't.  The butcher comes here.
     b.  With blood, sweat, tears, cussing, and a big fence.
     c.  We hire someone.
     d.  They walk willingly onto the trailer.

10.  Now that we are comfortable raising pigs, why don't we try raising cattle?
     a.  They are more work.
     b.  We don't have the room.
     c.  Hubby's afraid of them.
     d.  If one dies, we don't have anything big enough to tow it out to the field.

11.  The first line of this post is a botched quote from the movie ______________.

******** Answers ***********

(Oh, how I wish I could do this upside down so I could then take a poll to see how many of you turned your laptop upside down to read it.)

1.  c
2.  dogs, children, pigs, chickens
3.  true
4.  b
5.  c
6.  c
7.  b
8.  Big kids, a; little kids, d
9.  b  Of course.
10.   d
11.  The Jerk

If you answered 0-3 questions correctly, you have a lot of reading to do.  Don't talk to me until you are done.
If you answered 4-7 questions correctly, I shall consider you an acquaintance.
If you answered 8-10 questions correctly, you have attained BBF (Best Blog Follower) status.
If you answered 11 questions correctly, Hi Dad.

Have a lovely day!

P Is For Personality

My husband and I went to the same small, Catholic high school.  As juniors in Religion class, we each took the Myers Briggs personality test.  It was no shock when the results came back.

Hubby was:

I: Introverted
S: Sensing
T: Thinking
J:  Judging

while I was:

E:  Extraverted
N:  Intuitive
F:  Feeling
P:  Perceiving

In other words, exact opposites.

I recently looked up the "definition" of ISTJ, and found that my husband has only become more ISTJ, if that is even possible.  He and I went through the list, and every single item described him.  If you want to know my husband, you can read it, but basically it says he is fact and goal driven, dependable, not naturally in tune with his own or other's feelings, extremely loyal with a strong sense of duty, and puts tremendous amounts of energy into tasks he sees as important, while resisting putting any energy into a task which makes no sense to him.

And then there is me.  As an ENFP, I am an intense individual with highly evolved values, a risk-taker, happy except when confined to strict schedules, have a need to maintain control over myself but do not believe in controlling others, good at most things that interest me, and love life, seeing it as a special gift to make the most of.

Let me illustrate our differences.

When Hubby was 13 and a half, he was getting his Eagle Scout.  Normally, boys don't reach this level until they are 16-18.

When I was 13, I was trying, and failing, to look like Dorothy Hammill.

I always enjoyed taking care of kids, so I had a long list of people who called me to babysit their children. 

Hubby had to watch his little brother one time.  When his brother continued to annoy him, Hubby tied the little brother into his crib, so Hubby could play ColecoVision in peace.

I ran track because I was good at it.  When I ran, I ran sprints.  You hardly have time to think, let alone get bored, in a 100m dash.  

Hubby has run marathons.  He has done both an Endurathon and a full Ironman triathalon.  He was even crazy enough to complete a 100km (55 mile) race.  On his feet.  He didn't do these things because he is good at them.  He's not.  Many, many years ago, he set a goal to do an Ironman.  So he did.



Hubby has known his entire life that he wanted to be an attorney.  He had to work ridiculously hard, paying for all of his schooling by himself, in order to reach that goal.  Not only did he reach it, he graduated from law school #1 in his class and had his pick of firms for which to work.  He has done the exact same job for the last 14 years and likes it so much he has no desire to do anything else.

I became a teacher, mostly because I didn't put much thought into anything else.  I only looked at two colleges; the two from which the coaches were calling me to run on their track teams.  Never have I stayed in one job for more than 2 years.  Never having taken a photography class or even reading a book about photography, I opened a photography business.  A few years later, I officially closed the photography business. I currently teach preschool one morning a week, and I get annoyed that I have to follow the preschool schedule. 

When taking a child on his individual trip, Hubby plans everything out well in advance, knowing their itinerary for the weekend before stepping on the plane.

When I take a child on a trip, I will go over some possibilities with the child a few days before we leave, but make no definitive plans.  We decide as the trip progresses.

Some may wonder how our marriage works, seeing as how we have such different personalities.  I find it to be working smashingly well.

I can hop from job to job and go with the flow because I know Hubby is always there to be the dependable rock of planning and income.

Hubby can be safe in his out of tuneness to feelings, because I am always there to call him out when he is being too harsh on or critical of himself or others.

About 5 years ago, my book club had a psychic come to our meeting, and she gave us individual readings.  She made a point of telling me that my husband (whom she had never met, and I had never mentioned to her) had a tendency to be cold.  (I laughed, because I call him that all the time.)  She continued by saying he needs me.  He needs me to get him to see the colors instead of the black and white he lives in.  He needs me to pull him out of his facts and goals and encourage him to have some fun.  He needs me to make him relax and enjoy all that we have.

She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.

But she failed to finish the thought.

She failed to tell me that I need him just as much as he needs me.

I need him to be on my case so I finish tasks that I don't feel like doing.  I need him to reel me in when my people-personness spins out of control.  I need him to plan our retirement, so we don't end up living in a van down by the river.  I need him to caution me and point out the pitfalls when I start out on another endeavor without any plans.

On paper, we seem to be a terrible match.  In reality, we are perfectly perfect.

Most of the time.

Just don't bring up the new kitchen when he's around.  It would fall into the "makes no sense to him" category, and he is fully in touch with those feelings.

Have you ever taken the Myers Briggs or any other personality test?  Do you agree with the results?  If you are married, does he/she match your personality?

Have a lovely day!

O Is For Overcommitted and Overwhelmed

At our Family Schedule Meeting on Sunday, I told the kids to be prepared for the busiest week of the entire year.  Holy Too Much to Do, Batman!

We're busy?  Oh, how original.  Because no one else is, I'm sure.  I don't like getting into the "You think you're busy?  Listen to what I have to do..." competition that many get drawn into, including me sometimes.  Particularly when someone else starts it, gets all snotty about it, and I want to make a point.  Because I'm mature like that.

I won't go into the details about our busyness.

We'll just leave it at soccermiddleschoolmusicalboyscoutsHubby'smeetingsschoolprojectsfarmchores is a tad much.

As I've told you before, I think of awesome ideas, then forget them before I get to a computer or even pen and paper.  This is one of those times.  I had a fabulously funny segue between the above mundane and the below barely interesting, but I can't remember what it was. 

We'll just have to go with a jolting change of direction.

I don't know if you know this, but it is a rule of nature that our farm gets some sort of plague every year.  Be it thousands of wolf spiders or millions of lady bug-looking beetles, something will hit us in droves.

This week, our first plague hit.  Phoenix came inside and said we had tons of bees covering the outside of our house.  Knowing the boy tends to get worked up about small things, I asked for clarification.

Well, they may be flies, but there are tons of them all over both sides of the house.

Confident they were flies, and just a handful of them, I went to take a look.

 

 

 

Turns out, he was mostly right.

After some investigative work (i.e. calling my mommy and daddy) I came to the conclusion that we had some sort of dead animal in the gutters.  Based on the number of flies, I would put money on the idea that a coyote somehow got on top of my house and died.

Fortunately, I never had to find out.

Before Hubby could get home and drag out the 30 foot ladder, we had a big storm.  Lots of rain must have washed away most of the remains.  The flies are almost gone.  I don't know where the animal bones are, as I haven't looked for them. 

Like I said, I've been busy.  Ain't nobody got time for that.

I promise, the rest of the letter posts will be terribly witty and full of photos and fun.

Best stuff you've ever read. 

I promise.

Don't count on it.

Have a lovely day!