Monday Memory....Manger Mischief

We always had a nativity scene set up in our home as part of our Christmas decorations. When the children were small we had a child-friendly set with each of the figures made out of felt filled with beans so the children could play with them without breaking it. 

 When the girls were small we would set up the manger without baby Jesus in it. The girls would do their chores and try to do nice things for each other or for us to earn some soft hay to put in the manger to make baby Jesus a soft bed.

 The hay was usually straw from the broom but they were so happy to be helping baby Jesus. Occasionally, big sister, Becky would tell her little sister that they were helping baby Moses.

 Baby Jesus would make his appearance on Christmas morning to a manger filled with straw from the deeds of loving children and we would all share his birthday cake.

 As the children grew older I used to find other things that were new and different at the manager. One year instead of an angel announcing the birth perched on the front of the stable I found a Superman action figure standing on the stable roof ready to take on any evildoers. 

 One year the wise men travel from the east following the star on a Tonka truck. The following year the wise men arrived at the stable bearing machine guns. One year the wise men didn't arrive at all...I found them after Christmas still in the box and was informed that they wouldn't be arriving for another year or year and a half after the birth so they really shouldn't be at the stable at all. 

 Most of this Manger Mischief occurred while I was at work and the kids always waited anxiously for me to notice their alterations. We laugh at these stories now but I am glad that our children were raised to know the true meaning of Christmas.

Your 3 very different daughters

Letters to Mom                                                          March 13,2021

Dear Mom, this is your weekly memory letter from your daughter, Kathy, the one that looked like Dad. 

 Barbara is your firstborn.  I called her Bobbie when I was young.  I remember Saturday nights you would put "Bobbie pins" in our hair to make it wavy for church the following morning. I used to think that was the reason I called her Bobbie.  Much later you rolled our hair with clips, and I remember calling them "Kathy pins" and thinking I was just as glamorous as my sister.  When I was 14, baby sister Beverly arrived, and again I had another sister who always took center stage.

The three of us are entirely different. Bobbie is beautiful and smart.  She made straight As in all of her classes and was a member of the National Honor Society.  She was a debutant and was presented to society at the debutante ball.  My beautiful brainy sister could be quite scatterbrained at times like the day she drove the car to High School with her girlfriends and that afternoon rode home on the bus because she forgot she drove that day.  Needless to say, her girlfriends were not amused waiting by the car for an hour before she remembered and got a ride from a teenage boy back to the high school to pick up her friends.

I was not the smart one unless it was something I really liked.  You and Dad gave me a lecture, "I don't care what grade you make as long as it is the best of your ability, but don't you dare bring home less than a C".   I made up my mind that if you were happy with a "C" that was my goal.  I will admit to also being the lazy one and came very close to failing many subjects, but through frantic prayer, and tutoring from Bobbie I could somehow manage a C minus.  You and dad were always disappointed, but I always thought and chuckled to myself, "If you only knew how close to failing, I actually came you would be congratulating me right now!"  

 I was "everybody's buddy" but definitely didn't stand out in the crowd.  I played a tenor saxophone in Junior High and was in band and orchestra and still can't really read music to this day.  I got a pity date to Prom 3 days before the event, and you were upset that I didn't give you enough time to make my dress.  I was just thrilled to be invited and go out with my friends. All my high school friends were in the Honor Society, and I was just thrilled to graduate.

Baby sister Beverly was a big surprise to all of us.  We got to name her as long as you and Dad agreed to the name.  Bobbie and I pitched out our favorite girl names only to have someone else in the family say, "I knew a girl with that name, and I hated her."  Bobbie wanted to name her Joy, but Dad vetoed the name.  He said, "Girls named Joy were usually sweet or terribly misnamed and he didn't want to take his chances on the name."  We finally settled on the name Beverly because the only Beverly we knew we all liked.  Barbara's middle name is Leigh, so she wanted Beverly's middle name to be Lynn so they would have the same initials.  So here I am stuck in the middle with Barbara Leigh and Beverly Lynn.  It's tough to be a Janet Kathleen.

Baby sister Bev is an island all her own.  She is very different from Bobbie and me and basically grew up as an only child.  She has a very strong personality and either loves you or hates you with very little sway in between.  She is your best friend Mom, and a strong advocate for you.  She has a temper like your father (our grandfather Carden) and feels things very deeply.  She called you daily when you lived in Virginia Beach and would call me if she couldn't reach you insisting that I drive 4 hours to your house and comb the streets to find you.  She was never married and would come home for several weeks in October on vacation from United Airlines to cook and freeze individual meals for you, clean out your closets, organize the attic, and the linen closet, throw away accumulated magazines and newspapers and do yard and garden work.  You fussed that you could never find anything after she left but it was an amazing gift for all of us when it came time for you to leave Virginia Beach and move to Alabama to be with Bobbie and Joe in your own cabin across the street from her.

So, Mom, that's us, (Brains and Beauty) (Fun and Fabulous) and (Fire and Ice) your 3 very different daughters that adore you, pray for you daily, and would love to see you and hug you.  Hope you enjoyed the stories and will write more next week.  

Your Daughter Kathy

This picture is of Lyra Jane your great-granddaughter.  She just completed 100 days of kindergarten with a little old lady photo.  It made me laugh and I thought you would get a chuckle from it.

Letters to Mom

Monday Memories...Letters to Mom

Dear Mom,, This is your weekly memory letter from me, your adorable middle daughter Kathy.  As the middle child, I hold a special place in our family. I was the baby sister for 14 years till sister Beverly was born.  When Barbara married and moved to Germany with Joe, I became the oldest at home.  So I have filled all three roles.  I like to think that I'm the sweet frosting in the middle of the sandwich cookie!

I was the "little sister" for most of my formative years.  My sister, Bobbie, is three years older and was your favorite child (at least I always thought so).  Mom, whenever you were frustrated by our behavior you would lecture each of us by comparing us to one another.  My lectures were "Why can't you be pretty and smart like your sister Barbara?"  Barbara's lecture was, "Why can't you be sweet and loving like your sister Kathy?"  We grew up thinking "Mom always loved you best" of each other.

As the little sister, I got to bask in her glory.  I was always Barbara's little sister.  It was especially hard to have teachers that had taught my brilliant sister and then taught me.  Like most little sisters I adored her and of course, to be included in her world was a real treat even if it meant carrying the majority of the burden.

 Both of our parents had lived through the depression, so they were very frugal with money.  We had one bike that we had to share.  It was a big bike and we were still pretty small.  Dad ended up putting blocks of wood on the pedals as our legs were too short to sit on the seat and pedal.  Did I say share?  There were two scenarios.  She would ride and I would run along behind the bike till she lost me, or her favorite scenario...I pumped and she rode on the back.

We would make snowmen together.  She rolled the snow till it was too heavy for her to lift and then she would have me move it to where she wanted it displayed.  My sister Bobbie had a slight build and my Dad told her that a stiff breeze would blow her away and suggested she carry a rock in her pocket to weigh her down.  Me, I was the Bulldozer, made for endurance.

It was always my turn to do the dishes.  I was always the last one to do whatever Mom said not to do.  It was always my shoes that tracked up the floor and I was "it" in every game.  She would come up with ideas and I was always willing to go along.  If she said she was brave, so was I even if it meant touching a bee to prove it.  To say she got me in trouble with our folks would have been an understatement but I never seemed to learn.

She was the first one to hear my secrets, the one I would conspire with, the one I would wake up at 4 a.m. on Christmas morning to see if it was too early to wake the folks yet.  She was also the first one to experience all the firsts.  She was the overachiever, and I felt fortunate to just be included in the game.

Now that we are both grandmothers, I can't imagine my life without her.  She is one of my best friends, my greatest supporter, and my personal cheerleader.  We talk alike on the phone, we both have the same crazy sense of humor, and when we are together people naturally assume we are sisters. I think it has something to do with our silver hair and mannerisms.  I know she was disappointed when she found out I was a girl and wanted to know why.  Dad told her that the hospital was all out of boys so she suggested maybe we should take mom to another hospital.

I hope you enjoyed my memories of growing up" the little sister".  I hope it brought you sweet memories of our childhood.  We love you so very much and pray for you every single day.  We will be so glad to be able to give you lots of hugs.  Miss you, Momma.

That sweet middle girl,  Kathy

Letters to Mom

Dear Mom,                                                                             January 25,2021

Hello from Tennessee.  This is Kathy, your middle daughter writing you.  It is a cold rainy day today and really nice to stay inside.  I am writing this on my computer while drinking some hot tea and listening to Christian music.  Our little dog Oreo is asleep in his bed next to me all warm and snuggly.

   Your great-grandsons Oscar (12), Charlie (10), and Henry(8) love to play board games.  I taught all of them how to play Parcheesi.  I told them it was a game you learned to play as a child and that you were a really great player.

    I told them how you love to build blockades and made everybody wait for you to break them.  I told them that you were very good at rolling fives to get on the board and how you always knew where to put your players without having to count all the spaces after you rolled.

   I also told them that I played this game with my grandmother (your mom) (their great-great-grandmother) when I was their age.  She always won but never made me feel bad.  My grandsons have favorite colors.  Little Charlie loves red, Henry loves green, Oscar takes blue so I am always yellow.  I remember coming home one evening and you were playing all 4 colors by yourself.  I asked you, “Who’s winning?”  You just smiled and said, “Well I am! Of course!”

   I recently saw an old black and white Christmas picture of Bobbie and me playing    Parcheesi at grandmother’s house one Christmas Day while we were still dressed in our pajamas.  Bobbie and I had gotten a child-size card table ( Red and White) for Christmas.  Again, I was losing but didn’t mind because Bobbie was actually playing with me.

   You were amazing at throwing doubles in the game and always zipped around the board before I could get a single player out.  You were ruthless when it came to sending someone back to their home place.  You would get mad at me much later on in life when I had the chance to send you home but didn’t.  I would tell you that I chose to “extend mercy” and not take you home.  Actually, I really didn’t want the game to go on any longer than it needed to be since I was already losing!     

    It broke our hearts when you lost your vision and couldn’t play any longer.  I know you enjoyed the fellowship of your card games with other ladies in the church.  Your great-granddaughter Emma just turned 14 years old.  She had an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen for her birthday.  I told her about the time you bought an ice cream cake for your best friend Violet Elliott’s birthday and planned to serve it for dessert after the card game but you got distracted by a phone call and left the ice cream cake in the garage on top of the washing machine instead of the freezer in the garage.  She laughed and said that could happen to anyone.  Emma still has fond memories of you and asks about you whenever we speak.

I hope this brought you some sweet memories for you.  Charlie and I love you and pray for you every day.  We miss you so much and pray for the day when we can visit you.                                                 

 Love,   Kathy

  

Flashback to Childhood

I am now 71 years old and you may want to know what I was like as a child, the things I did, and the games I grew up with. 

This game" Cootie"  was a favorite game of mine.  I got the game when I was about 5 years old.  Each part of the Cootie had a numerical value and you would roll the die to get the parts you needed.  1...1 body, 2...1 head, 3...  1 mouth, 4... 2 antennae, 5... 2 eyes, 6...6 legs  If you already had the body part you lost your turn and hoped you would roll a 6 the next time.  The winner was the first person to complete the "Cootie".

One of the first toys I remember was this music box that had creepy clowns on it.  It played "Pop Goes the Weasel" and a clown would pop out.  I never realized till much later that the clown would always pop up at a certain part of the song and I was always terrified when it popped up.  I think this is one reason that Diva is very skittish to this day.  I will always jump at scary movies or when I think Poppa doesn't see oncoming traffic and we are all going to die.  Fortunately, Poppa knows that when I jump there is a reason and will start breaking.  I jump long before I can tell him why. I do not like Clowns to this day either. 

One of the first dolls I got for Christmas was called "Tiny Tears Doll"  Her eyes would open and shut and when you gave her a bottle of water she would wet her pants.  I have never been a big doll lover like my sister Bobbie.  She always kept her dolls in pristine condition on her bed. I always dragged mine around half-dressed and dirty from playing in the sandbox with me.  I was intrigued with the doll's eyes and in my medical observations I accidentally punched out one eye on Christmas Day.  I called her Winky after that!

This was always one of my favorite toys.  I love color, and designs and the Kaleidoscope was endless entertainment.  It had pieces of plastic color shapes and when you twisted the bottom part there would be a new design.  I spent hours watching the new design.  It was a good toy to take in the car to keep me entertained.

 

January 12, Letter to Mom

Dear Mom,                                                                    January 12, 2021

 

This is your middle daughter Kathy. I am the one who is named after you ...Janet Kathleen. I live in Tennessee with my husband Charlie.  I asked you once when I was growing up why you called me Kathy when my name was Janet.  You told me that you were always going to call me Kathy but  Kathleen Janet didn’t flow like Janet Kathleen.  Your mom, my grandmother, would send me a birthday card every year with Kathleen Janet Watson on it.  It always secretly made me laugh that she didn’t really know my name.

   One childhood memory I have of you, mom is that you would write to your mom every week.  I remember watching you type your letters on an electric typewriter.  So for your birthday, I have decided to follow your example and write you a weekly letter.  Not so much what we are doing but to remember the stories of my heart.  These are the stories I will tell my grandchildren about my     Momma and Daddy.

  Since we just had a New Years' celebration, Bobbie and I were talking about the New Year Celebration we had in Idaho when I was 5 and Bobbie was 8.  You and Dad had a New Year’s adult party the year before so you promised that we girls could have our own party the following year.  I think we just had friends who were our age that lived on the base.  I remember we had Beverly and Cami Nickel and another little girl that Bobbie knew.  We all got dressed up and went to the base movies.  We got to see “There’s No Business Like Show Business” with Ethel Merman. 

Dad got all of us popcorn and drinks and we thought we were so grown up.  The movie ended at 9pm and we got to drive around town with party hats and noisemakers yelling, “Happy New Year”. I am pretty sure we were all home and in our beds long before the New Year’s countdown.  It made me feel really grown up and important.

    Your granddaughter Suzy, my middle child and the one most like her grandmother (YOU), loves to celebrate New Year’s Eve with her boys.  They all get dressed up and she plans special food and games till midnight and she has a balloon drop from her ceiling.  This year they had a confetti cannon in her living room.  She says she is still vacuuming up paper shreds! 

     We miss you, we love you, we pray for you every day.  Much love….Kathy

Anne, Your great grandmother Janet Carden Watson has Alzheimer's Disease and has very limited memory.  So when I am with her I tell her heart stories I remember about her.  She just laughs will say," Did I really do that?"

 

 

Oz then and now....

Oscar, your Dad took this picture of you at the city commission meeting.  You got up and went to the podium to share a grievance about a sign that was crooked and needed to be "fixed".  After the meeting, you had a conversation with the city manager who was quite impressed with you.

Your Poppa was not surprised at all.  He was remembering you as a toddler watching "Handy Manny".  You have always been very observant of details. 




 When you were 2, we went shopping with you and your Mom at an Old Navy store.  The store display had neon stars and lights.  Several of the lights had burned out and were very high in the ceiling. You looked very troubled and grabbed Poppa's hand and took him to the spot directly below the burned-out bulbs. You pointed at the bulbs and said, "Wick-it Poppa, wick-it."  Translation: Fix it, Poppa, fix it!  Your Poppa, who would do anything for you but had to tell you he didn't bring any tools with him and he would also need a very high ladder.  You did not like that answer at all. You told him, he should always have his tools with him as tools were important. He finally distracted you by buying you a small toy and whispered over to me to hurry up and finish so we could go home!

How I met your Dad

I met your Dad at church in a Sunday School class for College and Career.  I was new to the church and had seen him singing in the church choir.  I liked him instantly and decided to meet him.

I was working as a night nurse (11 to 7) shift at a hospital in Virginia Beach.  I had every other weekend off but decided I couldn't wait for a weekend that I was off so the following Sunday (after working all night) I went home and prepared "to meet HIM".  Yes, dear children, I stalked your Dad!  I showered, curled my hair, wore my best dress, sprayed on Shalamar perfume, grabbed my Bible, and headed out the door on my quest to meet my Mr. Wonderful.

I arrived early and eagerly waited for him to show up.  He was late. Class started and after a preliminary welcome, we were encouraged to mingle and meet newcomers.  At last, my moment had come and I started my quest to meet him only to be stopped 4 times by people wanting to meet me.  My momma did not raise me to be rude so I missed my opportunity to meet him.

It was a big class (about 25 people) so we were divided into groups by counting off into groups of four.  I listen to whatever number he said and went directly to his group as soon as we broke up. I sat next to him and marveled at how smart and articulate he was.  (I should add that your mother is attracted to Nerds.)

After class, I asked him if he was going to go to church so I could sit next to him.  He smiled sweetly and said "Yes, I am, I sing in the choir!           ( Rats!  I forgot about that.)   I gave him my best smile but it didn't persuade him to skip choir and sit with me.  So I sat by myself and dozed off and on through the sermon since I had been up all night long.  Hopefully, it looked like I was in deep meditation or prayer!

After church," I lingered longer" in hopes of accidentally bumping into him.  When that didn't happen I decided to give up and go home to bed defeated in my purpose.  When I got to my car, guess who was parked behind me?  Yes, dear children, it was your future father.  God is good!

We talked, I flirted, and then he asked me to join him for lunch!  I forgot how tired I was and instantly agreed.  We went out for pizza and it felt very comfortable talking with him.  We laughed, and conversation seemed to flow in both directions. 

 When the bill arrived he discovered the restaurant didn't take credit cards and he only had a dollar in his pocket.  So yes dear children, I ended up paying for our first date and as I like to remind him....I've been paying for it ever since! 

 We met in March, got engaged in April and were married in July. So you can see that even though your Dad was shy and quiet when we met he definitely was just waiting for me.  We just celebrated our 46th anniversary this year.

Monday Memories.....fond memories

Yesterday was Father's Day. It was a time to honor Fathers. Mr. Wonderful celebrated by puttering in his basement (often referred to as the Man Cave).

My man tends to need "cave time". There is always a big demand for his time so time to "tinker", putter, or just unwind" is a real luxury.
When he does relax he feels guilty since there is something pressing that he could, should, or have already done.

After church, I made him a steak dinner with fresh vegetables and corn on the cob. He also had the luxury of reading an entire book without interruptions (good thing he is a fast reader!) I even made him dessert!

Thinking about Fathers made me start missing mine.

Several days ago we had a new volunteer ( a 17-year-old girl that is very quiet) she was working on scraping off loose paint from the window sills before we could caulk, sand, and paint them. Our Suzy always plays questions and answers whenever we are on a road trip so I started asking everyone questions trying to draw her out and learn a little more about her.

The question asked was, "What is one of your first memories of the church?"

Various answers followed, VBS, church camp, a wedding, stain glass windows in the sanctuary.

I was transported back to my childhood and the one memory that stood out in my mind was sitting next to my dad in the church service. I was a wiggler and a giggler so was assigned to sit next to my dad so he could give me "the eye" when I got too antsy. I was intrigued by my Dad's big hand compared to mine. I would study it and play with his hand. Occasionally we would play a game where he would suddenly grab my fingers and my job was to keep him from entrapping them in his grasp.

This normally would keep me entertained and quiet for at least 20 minutes till I would suddenly break into gales of laughter causing my mom to give both of us "the look" that instantly brought both of us to attention and make my Dad suddenly stop playing and start looking stern. We both knew it was to satisfy my mom because there was always a twinkle in those merry blue eyes.

I miss my Father's Hands. He was a good hugger, tickler, coach, adviser, and the first man in my life. I miss his "Dutch Uncle" talks where he would tell me what he was thinking and why without trying to spare my feelings.

Our son was named after my Dad and I see many characteristics in him that were in my dad.

I am so blessed by the men in my life. They are all wonderful husbands and fathers or (husband and potential dad in training). May each of you be a special memory in the life of your child.

Girls in white dresses....Monday Memories

I love pictures and especially ones of my grandchildren. This picture is our divine Miss Em in a white flower girl dress. Emma loves comfort clothes like her Diva but occasionally enjoys dressing up. This dress weighs almost as much as she does and she wasn't very happy when her mom dressed her up.

Now I ask you.....is this a happy face?

Becky works with the Girl Guides in Canada and co-leads a group of "Sparks" which are girls that are about 6 years old. Emma loves to go with mom to the Sparks meetings and the girls have adopted her as the troop mascot.

This is a happier Emma "Twirling" around the floor in her long white dress with the Sparks. I love this picture because it reminds me of my childhood. (Yes, Emma your "Dita" was once a little girl who loved to twirl in front of the mirror and watch my full skirt swing.)


Becky's co-leader Adriane rents out flower girl dresses and brought the dresses to a meeting so the girls could wear them. Isn't it amazing that girls like to dress in white dresses and dance and twirl around the floor? It seems to be something instinctive with girls (even little ones). Emma seems to be holding her own on the dance floor.

When I was in grade school full skirts with lots of petticoats (or can-cans) were popular. The fuller the skirt the more can-cans you wore. I liked the swishing sounds it made when I walked and twirling in front of the bathroom mirror at school was almost irresistible. It made me laugh to think that girls are girls no matter what their age and still enjoy the simple things in life.

Don't you just love the tights under the dress? Who knows....flash forward twenty years and this could well be the same little girl in a long white dress only with a veil and a groom waiting for her to waltz down the aisle.

.Being Thankful

We're Back. Yes, just like many American families we went over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house. (Except in our case it was more like over the mountain and through the Hampton Roads Tunnel which isn't nearly as lyrical!) Mr. Wonderful and I left Wednesday afternoon before traffic got too heavy. We were able to spend several days with my mom and help her. Mom has macular degeneration and was dreading writing her Christmas cards. We were able to print her Christmas letter including family pictures and print out mailing labels to put on her cards. She was very happy and relieved to still be able to keep in touch with her friends. We also helped rake and bag leaves in her yard. Mom had already exhausted herself raking and bagging most of the leaves. Mr. Wonderful was able to get most of them up with the lawnmower. There are still more leaves yet to fall but we at least made a small dent and hopefully, she won't wear herself out doing yard work.

We also played Parcheesi

while we were there. I learned to play this game as a child and we always played whenever we would go and visit my grandmother (my mom's mom). Grandmother was the best Parcheesi player I ever knew and I think my mom has taken over her title. (Maybe it gets past down to the oldest female in the family....who knows?) We would roll the dice to see who went first and then we would roll the dice to see who got to play partners with grandmother. Whoever won Grandmother....always won the game! Mom never has to count out the board. She can roll any number and get to the right space without having to count each space she passes. She has a knack for being able to roll just the right number to send your player home, to get out, or move up the ladder. She does have a little trouble now seeing the dots on the dice but no trouble knowing her options. I never have the option of letting her win.....I'm always trying not to be humiliated or so exasperated that "I accidentally knock the whole board over." Sorry! We went to Sunday School and church with her today and headed back after lunch. I am thankful that she is in good health, has supportive church friends, and is very independent. (Sometimes too independent!) We were able to get her a cordless amplified phone that seems to be helping her hear much better. She called this evening and said, "Can you hear me alright?" I had to laugh, as me being able to hear her was never the problem! Mom turns 82 this January. I think she is quite remarkable!

Monday Memories....My love affair with Cake!

I'm a sweet girl. I'm kind, thrifty, courteous, and all those virtues in the Girl Scout handbook. If I had any faults it would be that besides being sweet, I love sweets. I've never met a brownie, pie, or cookie that I didn't like which is why if I had a  talking scale it  would say to me, "Please, just one person at a time!"

 We didn't have cake very often when I was growing up. The cake stood for a special celebration...Birthdays, Christmas, Holidays, or special occasions. I had to share my birthday cake with my baby sister Beverly who has a birthday 5 days before me..As you might have guessed there wasn't much cake left to even blow out the candles. I was fourteen when she was born. I have noticed that if I'm mad, frustrated, or stressed I bake.

One vivid memory I have of cake was in Sunday School when I was about 12. The teacher asked for volunteers to help and of course, the boys were way too cool to volunteer. So she gave each girl a piece of cardboard with various items printed on them. Mine said, "Entertainment". She had us stand upfront with our signs and asked us if any of us knew what a budget was? She explained that what we were holding were items that our parents typically had to spend their money on every month.

 Then to our great delight, she pulled a 2 layer cake out of the box and started dividing the cake into percentages we had assigned the various categories. Of course, Housing and Food got the biggest pieces. I remember her asking me how much of the budget should be spent on Entertainment.....of course, I said "All of it!".After laughing and telling me that many people do spend almost their entire budget on entertainment she gave me a small piece (about 10 percent).

 By then the boys were demanding to participate so she handed out a few more parts of the budget. Finally, all the cake was gone but there was one more cardboard sign left. It said, "God". The boy who had that card looked very forlorn when the teacher handed him the empty plate with just a few crumbs left. It left a lasting impression on me that we give God the crumbs....not the first piece or even the best piece but the leftover crumbs.  It was the best tithing message I ever had and still remember to this day.

Sex Education and the Movies

Years ago The Blue-eyed Girls Club (consisting of my daughter Suzy and I) went to movies. Mr. Wonderful and the rest of the clan were not with us when we decided to sneak off.

 This movie came out in 1995 so Suzy would have been 16. I knew what the movie was about because I had read the book and I carefully explained to my impressionable teen that the movie was about a married woman who had an affair while her family was away.

 I explained that I personally thought it was wrong, but I wanted to see the movie to see Clint Eastwood as a romantic lead instead of "the Dirty Harry" character he usually played. So....for two hours we sat in silence and watched the drama unfold. 

 What followed was one of the best talks that she and I probably ever had. We began to discuss the movie and the question came up..."When did the heroine cross the line?' "When did the innocent flirtation become an invitation to sex?" We were free to openly discuss their actions and behaviors because they were not us. There was no guilt, shame, or reproach but just honest observations.

 We were able to see when the interest and flirtation subtly changed and what steps could have been taken to stop it. We also discussed what might have happened to the heroine's family had she run off with the National Geographic Photographer.

 As a parent we make all kinds of mistakes.....this particular event I count as a high point of motherhood, what could have been just a few hours of escapism turned out to be a serious lesson on how easy it is to be swept away by our emotions and make bad choices. Has a movie ever led to a serious discussion with your kids?

I've always wanted a Yellow Lab!

You Are a Labrador Retriever

You are very optimistic. You approach life with enthusiasm and vigor. You aim to please, and you are a very quick learner. You can be a bit rowdy and unruly, especially when you don't get enough exercise. While you are a bit wild, you're never dangerous. You are a truly gentle creature.

What Breed of Dog Are You?

When I was a little girl my grandmother came to visit us one year for Christmas. I was really excited about Santa coming and had my list all ready to recite just in case anyone asked. I remember asking my grandmother what she wanted for Christmas. She would always laugh and answer "I want a yellow dog named Towser." One evening we went to see Santa and tell him what we wanted for Christmas. I naturally recited my list of "must-haves" and just as I was getting down I hastily added and my grandmother wants "a yellow dog named Towser!"

I noticed that the adults all around me were laughing except grandmother. It seems that Santa had a microphone on his lapel and so everyone could hear what each child said. On Christmas morning I don't know who was more surprised...Me or my grandma. Under the tree unwrapped was a yellow slinky dog with a bow around his neck and a tag that read to Grandma from Santa. The dog had a big name tag that said " Towser. "

Monday Memories....Strawberry Fields Forever!

I drove by the Strawberry Fields today and saw lots of little white blossoms on the plants that one day soon will be red delicious strawberries. There is something wonderful about eating field ripen strawberries, is there anything sweeter?

Our Canadians enjoy coming to see us during berry picking time. We tease our daughter and tell her she must have been a migrant worker in another life. She can certainly pick a lot of berries in a very short time. Not to mention that she makes wonderful shortcakes, muffins, and pies. Excuse me while I drool!


When Boy Wonder was 4 he and I went with a friend to pick strawberries from the field. They weighed the containers before you went out in the field and then weighed them after you finished picking. They should have weighed Andy before and after too. I do believe he ate more than he picked. By the time we checked out he had ruby red lips and red stains all down his shirt.


The farmer looked sternly over at him and asked him directly, "Son, did you eat any of my strawberries?"

Andy suddenly got very scared and became shy and guilty-looking but looked up at the farmer and shook his head while saying, "No Sir!"

The farmer looked at his red-stained hands and winked at him and said with a smile...."Looks like you've been caught red-handed to me! Say, how old are you anyway?" He asked.

Looking miserable at having been caught in a lie, Andy held up 4 fingers and grabbed my leg to hide behind me.

"Well, "said the farmer, " Too bad you didn't eat any of my berries because I always let 4-year-old boys eat all the berries they want." " Here," he said, handing Andy a huge ripe strawberry "Try this one."

Moral of the story: Always tell the truth, especially when you are caught with red hands, red lips, and strawberry stains down your shirt.

Monday Memories...Child Wisdom!

Mr. Wonderful is an ordained minister and has preached many wonderful sermons. He has preached in many small churches where there is no nursery and has competed with noisy children, sleeping parishioners, and crying babies. He can take all this in stride and never lose his patience or train of thought as long as it is not one of our children that is making the commotion.

We were visiting a church in Dickinson, North Dakota. I was nine months pregnant with our son and our girls were 2 and 4 years old. Being a wiggler when I grew up, I had several items to keep the girls quiet and entertained during the service.

The children of this congregation were allowed to run in the aisles of the church and none of the parents seemed to mind or even pay attention. I could see that Mr. Wonderful was distracted and growing annoyed at the children's antics.


As the sermon progressed, our Suzy ( a terrible 2) suddenly decided to stand up on the pew and flirt outrageously with the people behind us. This did not go over well with a dear ole dad who promptly turned her around and sat her down on his lap. Suzy decided that this was a good game so popped right back up. This up and down behavior continued several times and I finally heard the dreaded words that all of our children hated to hear. "If you do that one more time, I'm taking you outside."

Being taken outside meant that that punishment was close at hand. All our kids knew that "being taken outside" was not for fresh air! Usually, the threat was enough to bring the desired obedience but it wasn't working that day with Miss Suz. She apparently thought that the show she was creating was far too much fun or that dear ole dad wouldn't fall through with the threat.

Always one to push the limits, Miss Suzy continued to smile and flirt with the amused people behind us until Mr. Wonderful grabbed her up, threw her on his shoulder, and started walking in a stern manner toward the door. Mr. Wonderful was embarrassed that His children were the ones causing a disturbance. Suzy instantly knew she had pushed dad too far and started pleading, wildly....."I'm sorry Daddy, I'll be good, I'll be good!"


Seeing that her pleading had no effect on Dad and also seeing people were starting to chuckle at the sight, Suzy went for the big guns. She imploringly looked at the entire congregation and said in the most dramatic voice of a two-year-old, "YOU ALL PRAY FOR ME!"

Her pleading statement sent the entire church into gales of laughter and embarrassed Mr. Wonderful who couldn't get Suzy out the door quick enough. The pastor picked up on the situation and said, "What that man is doing is Biblical and right. We need to teach our children to respect God's house and many of you need to follow his example."

What was your most embarrassing church story?

Monday Memories....Easter Memories

My good friend Floozie posted a Monday Memory about Easter when she was growing up. Since both of us are" vintage classics" I could readily agree with her conclusions.

Easter at our house was a dress-up occasion. My sister and I always got new spring dresses, white gloves, hats, socks with lace, and new shoes.

No one in our household was fond of hard-boiled eggs so my mom would tap a small hole at the end of the eggs and blow them out. The eggs were hollow then and we would dye them and decorate them and eventually hide them.

The Easter bunny usually hid candy marshmallow eggs for us to find and there was always a chocolate Easter bunny in our baskets.


Grandmother was usually the source for the Easter Dresses for our girls. We would hide plastic eggs that would either have candy or surprises inside for the children. They loved to hide them and find them all day long.
This picture is of Becky's first Easter dress when she was exactly 14 months old (same age as Emma).



This is me with Suzy. It was her first Easter and she looked like a little Easter chick herself. One of my aunts had crocheted a yellow baby sweater and cap. Her little dress was made by my sister-in-law Auntie Anne from material that my bride's maids wore at our wedding.






Andy was showing off his new jacket, pants, and tie one very colorful Easter in Savannah. Note the azaleas in full bloom.


What a transition for me...from being a baby to having babies and now watching my babies have babies. God is so Good!

Monday Memories....Emma gets a cousin!

Guess who is pregnant? If you said me.....guess again or click here. We are so excited!

Mr. Wonderful and I had been married for 4 years before we were able to conceive. We both had some physical problems that had to be resolved and we also had the elders of our church pray and anoint us. One little elder looked at us and said, "Ok, I'll pray that you can have children but don't blame me if you can't stop."

Our oldest was born between blizzards. If she had come on her due date Mr. Wonderful would have had to deliver her. On my due date, Mr. Wonderful looked at me and said, " If you plan to go into labor today I'll need about 6 hours to dig out the car!"

Our other two children were born in August......I think we learned it was better to have summer babies than try to predict ice and snow in Montana and North Dakota.

Congratulate me....I'm going to be a Diva again. May their tribe increase!

Monday Memory....Passing Out

I have only passed out cold once in my life (I've had a couple of near misses but I'll get to that soon!)

My mother was an excellent seamstress and used to make most of our clothes. She would have us stand on the kitchen table so she could mark and measure the hems of our skirts. Because we were elevated, she didn't have to sit on the floor. The system worked well till I passed out.

 Being a typical rowdy girl that did not like to stand still, much less wear dresses, my mother basically had to threaten me to get me to cooperate. Once she had me, she would not allow me to escape till the task was completed. I liked to twirl and jump and squirm and it wasn't often that Mom would let us, much less encourage us, to stand on the kitchen table.

 Every time I turned it seemed like the measurements would be off and Mom would have to start again. Finally, she had me stand in the middle of the table and told me not to move. She decided it was easier for her to move around the table marking the skirt than to have me jump all around. It was a good system and would have probably worked but no one told me not to lock my knees.

 As I stood there I virtually cut off my blood supply to my legs. I remember saying to my mom, "I'm not feeling very good" and bang down I went off the table and onto the floor. My Dad, being a military man told me later that he had seen lots of recruits fainting while standing at attention in basic training. He told me the secret of not passing out while remaining at attention was to wiggle your toes. I never passed that secret on to my mom and come to think of it she never let us stand on the kitchen table again.

 I almost passed out again right after our first daughter was born. I went to the bathroom with the assistance of the nurse and remember the room starting to turn black, and I saw little lights begin to spin. Fortunately, I was already seated so I just had to put my head between my legs, get some cold water to my face, and thankfully the feeling went away. They tell me that was because of volume loss from the delivery.

 The last two days have also been near misses on my passing out  countdown. I am one-week post-surgery and have really felt well up until then. It seemed like every time I would get up to do a simple task, or just walk into the kitchen I felt like I was going to pass out. I would have absolutely no energy, break out into a cold sweat, get deadly pale and somewhat faint. I am blessed with an overactive imagination and can have liver cancer in 30 seconds or less. I began to feel like Fred Sanford in "Sanford and Son" and say to myself, "This is the big one Elizabeth, I'm coming!"

 I do not like the feeling of sudden death, or passing out. So yesterday after feeling faint just sitting in church, we went to the ER at the University of Virginia. Basically, I found out 8 hours later that I'm going to live. My electrolytes were out of balance and the fluid pill I normally take was making my potassium level low thus causing the horrible fainty feelings. They gave me some potassium pills, IV fluids, told me to quit taking the fluid pill, and assurance. I say it was a good tip. (Almost as good as wiggling your toes!)

Monday Memory....the balloon that grew!

When we lived in North Dakota, "Happy Joe's" Pizza palor was a favorite of our children. They made a good pizza and it was definitely a kid-friendly environment. They also gave each of the children their very own helium-filled balloon on a string. The balloons would be secured on the back of their chairs until it was time to go home and then I would tie them on each child's wrist as we headed to the car and home.

Becky was 6 and very independent. She declared that she was old enough to hold the string by herself and didn't need it tied on "like a baby". Suzy, who wanted to do everything her big sister did, also decided that she didn't want her balloon tied on. Not wanting to make a scene, I told her ok but warned her if she let go of the string the balloon would float away.

Sure enough, we had barely made it out of the door before Suzy's balloon slipped out of her hand, passed Mr. Wonderful, and into the North Dakota sky. Immediately salty tears poured out from Suzy's eyes and she began to cry. Mr. Wonderful picked up Suzy and held her closer to the sky and said, "Don't cry Suzy, your balloon is going on a trip......I bet it's on the way to Texas for our family reunion. It's small so it needs to get a head start. Wave it goodbye and tell it to have a good trip!"

This seemed like a perfectly logical thing for a balloon to do and so Suzy started waving and shouting to the balloon. "See you soon! Bye Balloon!"

A day or so later Suzy asked her Daddy, "Where's my Balloon now?"

So Mr. Wonderful would get out a map and show her where we were, where the family reunion was to be held and all the states in between. Then he would say, "The weatherman said, it was windy today so I'm sure Balloon didn't get very far. I think it's probably in South Dakota by now." That seemed to satisfy her curiosity so off she'd go.

Every night before she would jump in bed she would have to say her prayers. She "God Blessed" everyone she knew and she always ended with, " and God help my balloon help make it to Texas."

A few days later the grandparents arrived and the house was busy with activities in preparation for our long car trip to Texas to the family reunion. In all the activities the balloon was soon forgotten and we didn't bring up the subject again.

Imagine our surprise and Suzy's delight one morning when we were eating breakfast at a restaurant and looked out of the window to see a huge hot air balloon that looked very similar to Suzy's "Happy Joe's" balloon. "Oh look, Daddy," Suzy said excitedly, "Look how big my balloon got! It's here, just like you said it would be." "How did it get so big?" she asked.

"Well," said Mr. Wonderful, as if he were expecting this question all along. "The balloon had to get bigger to make the long journey. Every time you prayed God made the balloon bigger."

Again, this sounded perfectly logical to Suzy and she was satisfied with the explanation. Becky, ever the skeptic, looked at her Dad and said matter of factly, "Aren't you glad she stopped praying when she did?"

The Faith of a child is so pure!