ValerieDykstra.com

same boat?

One of the reasons I've blogged for so many years is to capture family memories, especially things my kids have done. However, try as I do to get my kids to do cute things these days, they tend to be "too cool for cute." Growl.

Several weeks ago Hannah told me she missed my blogging. I was mildly blown away by this because Hannah seems so aloof and uninterested. I was touched by her desire and told her I'd try harder to blog more often.

Hannah has friendship issues. She has two friends and one of them is an off and on relationship. Her best friend doesn't go to her school so she's a bit of a loner at school unless her friend D is in "on" mode. D is a boy and Hannah does not like him in a romantic way, but she loves him as a friend. Her day is not a good one unless she and D have slugged each other in the hall. That is the test of their friendship. If they slug each other, they are "on". If there's no slugging going on, they are off.

Recently I asked Hannah who D's friends are. She said he kind of drifts among groups, that he doesn't have a set of friends who he is always with. He just kind of tags along with whomever he's in the mood to tag along with.

Encouraged that others have the same issues as Hannah, I enthused, "Oh, he's kind of in the same boat as you."

Very seriously, she retorted, "Oh no, he's in a much better boat than me."

I was tickled.

discovery cove, orlando

 

For each of us, Discovery Cove was a highlight of our time in Florida.

Last year we started planning this trip. Initially the main purpose in going to Florida was to see my friend Debbie. We didn't know that she would be gone by the time our trip rolled around. Several times during our time in Florida I felt melancholy remembering that the whole purpose of the trip - in its initial stage - was so I could spend some time with Debbie.

I'm sure you've noticed that I don't blog quite like I use to. There are several reasons but among them is the absence of my friend and faithful reader Debbie. So many times I wrote just for her. She loved reading this blog and I loved to write stories for her. I miss her and the trip to Florida was mildly bittersweet because I was often reminded of how the trip originated.

 

 

  Our sweet Hannah developed a love for anything related to marine life several years ago. She said she wanted to be a marine biologist and we wanted to encourage this love. That is how Discovery Cove arrived as one of our destinations.

Our desire to encourage the "marine biology" thing was really enlivened when she declared that she hadn't decided which to pursue; marine biology or tatoo artistry. That's when Gordon enrolled her in the Trainer for a Day program.

She worked with dolphins, swam with and rode dolphins, fed sharks and rays and I don't know what else. It was a glorious experience for her. I'm so glad she had the opportunity.

 

 

 

 

  Deborah surprised us by falling in love with manta rays. We couldn't hardly pull her out of their pools. Every time we tried for pictures - almost every time - she was unavailable because she didn't want to leave the mantas.

 

 

 

 

I did a lot of everything, but my favorite part was being all alone with the waterfalls. For hours I had the waterfalls to myself and I loved that.

 

 

 

 

 

Years ago, I put "swim with dolphins with Hannah" on my bucket list (things to do before I die). Things got a little wonky and Hannah and I both swam with dolphins but not at the same time. But that's okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is our Hannah, trainer for a day.

 

 

 

  

 

 

Deborah wasn't the only one who loved the rays. Hannah did too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I quite love this picture of the family. Discovery Cove was a great experience!

happy birthday hannah

(Newborn Hannah and me, 1996. She looks kind of cute here.)

I am very very behind on this. Hannah turned 14 in August. Her birthday always gets the short end of the stick around here. No matter how often I tell myself it won't happen, it does. Even her "birthday post" is weeks overdue. The poor dear.

She turned 14 on August 22.

These pictures are a few sweet reminders of her little life.

(See how ugly she was. 1996)  If they hadn't taken her straight from my body and laid her on my chest, I would not have believed she was mine. I would have said, "This isn't my child. I have cute babies." But I was there. She is mine. I was awed once again by a new baby, but this time I lovingly said, "Awww, she's so ugly." 

Thankfully she started cutening up several months later. It was acutally quite a few months before she was truly cute. But she was precious all along. She had no choice but toughness. With a sister just 13 months older, she was the brunt of all Rachael's experiments - including be drawn on with marker and pen regularly.

 

But by one year old, she was genuinely very cute. She had lovely long hair but wanted a hair cut. She was just as cute with short hair.

(2 years old, 1998)

Then she was in school and losing her first tooth.

(2004)

It wasn't long before she was in grade 4. She was tender kind and sensitive. She loved animals more than any thing. She read her Bible, wrote in a little prayer journal. She was a true seeker. She was delightful.

Now she's an independent 14 year old. She can be super crazy and high energy. She reads lots and enjoys art. She's growing up too fast. She has abandoned all things cute. Recently she started rejecting all those cute things in her room -- storing them away or just getting rid of them. It's sad. She's saying goodbye to those cute things and opting for more teenager ways of decorating. Strangely, I never expected that of Hannah. The other kids yes, but I thought Hannah would stay the Hannah I knew. I don't really know who Hannah is. She was the one I thought I understood best, now I don't understand her at all. 

But my love stands firm. I'm still trying to understand her likes and dislikes but having a real hard time nailing it. I wouldn't consider buying her clothes or anything else nearly. For her birthday I gave her a shopping spree -- took her out on a shopping trip and didn't like anything she bought. I tried to get in her brain just to see if I could. I picked out a couple blouses, she was mortified by my taste. So I just relinquished the effort.

She's the subject of much prayer. There's a wall between us. She doesn't like me and I'm not scaling that wall very successfully. But I love her with everything in me.

Hannah I hope this year is a great year for you. I love you so much.

(2009, 13 years old)

  

festival and a hannah story

This past weekend I had a dragon boat festival and was away from the family for Friday - Sunday. Not something I've done a lot of. The kids were on my mind often. There was a 10ish-year-old girl that reminded me so much of Hannah that she startled me every time I saw her. She had on an orange t-shirt like one Hannah used to wear way too often, she was long and thin with blond hair. For a split second I'd think it was Hannah, then I would realize it wasn't Hannah and that Hannah hasn't been that "short" for several years. I couldn't wait to get home to Hannah and hug her. That little girl at the festival kept Hannah ever present in my mind. I realized anew how the girls are growing up. Hey, I was away for the weekend. If that's not evidence that they're growing up, I don't know what is.

When we are taking our boat to the starting line we're supposed to be totally focused, "all energy in the boat", not looking outside the boat for anything. Saturday, at the end of the lake near the starting line, there was a spot where a few spectators sat. They were far away from the crowd sitting in their own quiet private spot.

(This picture is Hannah in "that" orange t-shirt, 2007)

As we approached the starting line, I heard a crystal clear "hi". My heart instantly smiled, my face joined in. I "left" the boat -- meaning, I let my focus drift to the little girl who stood there so innocently seeing if anyone would answer her greeting. I smiled and waved before I realized what I'd done. The innocence of that little girl gripped my heart. "Hi," she said so sweetly and trusting. It was precious.

My kids have grown/are growing up so quickly. Some days it staggers me with sadness, other days I bite my tongue, hard, so I won't yell, "I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE EMPTY NEST SYNDROME."

A few nights ago Hannah came into the living room and said, "Adam is so weird, so lame." I asked why and she said they were chatting (via computer) and he started talking about puberty and how boys have it worse than girls because, and I quote, boys "have urges."

The word "urges" in our family is barely shy of a curse word. Gordon and I have a skit that I'm dying to perform for someone. We haven't had opportunity to perform, but our poor kids have had to endure it a few times. In our skit, the main word is "urges" and it's kind of sick. You'd have to see the skit to get it. Suffice to say, "urges" is a gross word to us.

Imagine Hannah's disdain when Adam started talking "urges". Adam told her about "boy urges" and then said, "Do girls have urges?"

Hannah was mortified. Rachael and I both screamed, "Well, what did you say?"

Hannah said, "I said, 'I don't know, why don't you ask one.' Then I logged off."

Grandpa

(Grandpa and the girls)

Eight years ago today my father-in-law passed away. He was 67. It was a hard time for our family, but I have some sweet memories from that time that I cherish.

We told the kids that Grandpa was very ill and that he would get to go to heaven soon. Deborah was nearly three. Rachael was nearly seven, Hannah was nearly six. Each of them processed it very differently. Rachael acted like it was no big deal, but that's a regular coping mechanism of hers. We knew it was big to her.

Hannah was astute and forthright. During prayer time at church on the Sunday before he died, Hannah's voice rang out clearly as she asked for prayer. "My grandpa in very sick and he hurts really badly right here," she said as she pointed to her side. (He had liver cancer.)

I thought Deborah was too young to process it one way or the other. I was wrong. One day I was in the garden and I overheard her talking to herself in the tree-house. "Grandpa is very sick and he's going to heaven soon." She said it several different ways, several different times. At that point I knew she was agitated too.

The call came that he'd passed away and we went to his house. We gathered around his bed and his kids and wife told stories, we prayed and sang a few hymns. We learned that one of Eric's favorite hymns was "Morning has broken, blackbird has spoken...." We sang it.

When we cleared out of the room for the funeral home to come, Hannah asked if she could see him once more. She and I went back into his room alone. She held his hands and thanked him for being a good grandpa. She told him she looked forward to seeing him again in heaven and then she kissed him.

After the funeral home had his body on the gurney, the sons and son-in-law carried him to the waiting car. We all stood in the yard, solemnly watching them drive away. As soon as the car turned out of sight, 2-year-old Deborah jumped up excitedly and said, "Yaaay! Grandpa's in heaven." In Deborah's mind, when he got out of sight, that's when he entered heaven.

Over the next day or two, even Rachael revealed her heart. We had learned that "Morning has broken, blackbird has spoken..." was a favorite hymn of his. Rachael drew her therapy. It's a card. The front page is a blackbird in a limb.

 

Inside the card, there is Grandpa on his bed and Beppe phoning us to tell us he had just died. May always wore a bun back in those days. See her bun?

 

These memories and this card are precious to me.

My kids are... ?

(Precious Rachael and Hannah, in 2000)

Because I'm getting wiser with age, I resisted the urge to title this post, "My Kids Are Idiots." That was noble, I think.

In the 80's I loved watching The Cosby Show. In one episode Dr. Huxstable comes home to find Clare seething. She hisses, "I want you to go upstairs and kill your son." More than once I've said that to Gordon. Unfortunately he never watched The Cosby Show and he doesn't have a son, so my theatrics are sorely lost on him.

Quoting movie phrases is one of my coping mechanisms. Even though Clare Huxstable's saying is not perfectly suitable in our house, I keep it in my repertoire of fine things to say when I'm on the verge of snapping. Thank God for all the movies that have given me anti-snapping phrases through the years. I've not even come close to injuring a child, so there's proof they have served me well.

(When a potential employer asks how I handle stress I respond with a professional smile, "I tell my husband to kill the kids.") 

It's no wonder that sometimes mama animals eat their young. I'm guessing it goes something like this: Mama rat looks at baby rat rolling her eyes at her and thinks, "Yep, this one's liable to steal the family car when she's 13." Chomp chomp. "Took care of that problem."

I won't tell present problems, but I'll share one from two years ago. Rachael was 13. In some homes that might mean she's the cock of the walk, the boss, the indomitable force. In our house 13 means you're an idiot. (In a couple years I'll share our present woes, if I'm not doing time or rolled up permanently in the fetal position sing-songing, "They were such sweet babies.")

Dear sweet idiot child Rachael, with her friends, planned a boy-girl movie night. "We're going to the movie and then we're going to Adam's house." Gordon and I shook our heads like dogs hit between the eyes with tennis balls. Gordon gave me the shut-up-wife look just as I was forming the words, "Like hell you are."

I had an appointment that I could not miss so I had to leave. When I got home I asked how things had turned out. Gordon said he'd take her to the movie. He'd unobtrusively sit elsewhere in the theater. She could invite the kids to her house afterward. Rachael responded with, "Well that's going to be mildly embarrassing." Gordon responded, "Mildly embarrassing, eh? Sounds to me like mildly embarrassing is a good balance between wildly humiliating and uninvolved. You choose."

That little battle turned out well. Rachael went to the movies with friends, Gordon went too. She invited the friends over; girls came, boys didn't.

She was not bitter.

Rachael is doing well these days. Her mind is coming back. Slowly but surely, I see signs of sanity. She's kind of between stages, part idiot, part sane.

Hannah is 13. I think a lot about the above mama rat. 

Thursday Thirteen

I love Thursday Thirteen. It's a great way to catch up.

1. I've been kind of sad/contemplative/nostalgic lately. I've been busy scanning pictures from the days before digital photos. I've got a lot done, but still have a ways to go. Anyway seeing all those pictures of my little people . . . Now they are so big. It's enough to make a mama weep. A couple are grown. A couple morphed into a different species. And one is still a child. In a way it seems like a few days ago that Stephanie was born and in other ways it seems like a totally different life. Time keeps going.

2. As I looked at all the photos, over and over I saw evidence of Debbie Tannehill. She gave us sooo many clothes for the girls and all three girls wore them. Thank you Debbie. You are such a good friend.

3. Was reminded all over again how incredibly sweet my wee ones were.

4. Was reminded all over again how incredibly tiring Rachael was. She was a handful. I created a few "funnies" for the occasion.

5. Funny 1.

 

6. Funny 2.

 

7. Funny 3.

 

8. I love the smells of the season. I sat in the back yard last night and got intoxicated by all the floral scents in the air. I am sure heaven will have those same scents.

9. Do you remember that I'm working on a book? (Actually it's three books.) I'm getting pretty close to having the first one finished. I'm excited about the potential.

10. Hannah was such a writer/card giver when she was wee. This week I thoroughly enjoyed reading through a bunch of her sweet greetings from years ago. She doesn't write me love letters anymore. I miss those, but am thankful for the ones she gave me when she still liked me. {Sigh, people warned me about this.}

12. In case you can't see it, it says, "You are the best perins in the world. I love you. Have a Heavenly Day." See why I'm nostalgic and blue?

 

13. Reading through Hannah's photo album reminded me of some of her quirky ways when she was little. And she had more than a couple quirky ways. I had totally forgotten one until I read it in her album. In 2000 we went to Colorado and met all my family for Thanksgiving. For many, it was the first time to meet my Canadian children. Hannah was four and Deborah was still nursing. Hannah was often invited into people's lap to get acquainted. Hannah's method of getting acquainted was asking, "Do you have milk in your breasts?" and/or "How come your breasts are so small?"

in which i brag on hannah's art

 

I sure wish I could take some credit for some of this artistic talent, but I can't.

But she's fun too, and I can take credit for that gene.
 

Hannah's Bedroom

Here's the finished product of Hannah's room update. As you can see, she's quite the collector.

We're pleased with the outcome and looking forward to the little Hannah Banana seeing it.

PS Hannah has a thing for animal calendars. There were three on her wall when I started this project and I'm betting she hangs the other two when she settles in. My little Hannah will be home tomorrow. :-)

Three Lovely Girls

Three of my sweet babies. I love them, doncha know?

Rachael and Deborah sometimes bond through Rachael rolling Deborah's hair. No child from my womb would be lucky enough to have naturally curly hair. {Sigh.}

Aren't they lovely?

Hannah snoozing

Sweet little Hannah has been battling a horrible cold. Plus it's finals week. So my little babe is exhausted. The proof is in this picture. Seldom does she fall asleep in the living room.

I'm well aware of how hideously she's dressed. You wouldn't believe how often she wears that get-up. They are her favorite comfy clothes, much to my chagrin.

I guess no matter how old a child gets a mother finds her perfectly innocent when she sleeps.

After I snapped this picture of her snoozing and got it up on the computer I saw a little detail I didn't notice earlier. Can anyone spot the little stick-man?

There he is on the bottom of her foot. I guess you never outgrow the doodling stick-man thing.

 

disgruntled mom

I'm sure you all well remember that I'm a basket case in my own appealing way. Which reminds me of the sitcom from the '80's called Designing Women. Once Julia went to bat for a demented woman -- I don't remember the details -- but in the end Julia got in someone's face in a polite genteel sort of way by declaring, "Here in the South, we are puh-roud of our crazy people." 

My family ganged up on me last night and I'm none too puh-roud of them for that. What they all need is a kick in the butt and a bit of experience living in the South and growing up with chores. Huh!, chores! What a lame word. I didn't have "chores" when I was a kid. I worked like a man starting at 4 years of age.

Last night I told the girls to make the sandwiches for lunches. You'd have thought I'd asked them to construct the Golden Gate Bridge. The (usually) fine husband and father of these darlings didn't even take up for me. I was none too happy. It wasn't one of our finer evenings.

It got worse. After they expressed their opinions about making sandwiches, the horror of horrors that that is, they tried to saddle me with guilt. "We never see you. You're always gone." They started naming all the commitments I've had this year, only one of which is still a weekly evening commitment. It's true I WAS over-committed but I quit every dang one of those commitments except Tuesday evening. No more Weight Watchers, no more dragon boating (I cried).

I'm sure as an astute discerner of spirits, you've figured out that I'm just a little peeved. And as I've done in the past, I'll share some of this little family's humor. It always blesses my socks off to tell funny things my fam has done. I'm blessed indeed with a (usually) good-natured, fun-loving family.

In The Cinderella Story, a girl flick that my girls really like, the evil stepmother in her nasal voice says to the teenage stepdaughter, "You're not very smart and you're not very pretty. I'm glad we had this talk." Well that line has become a regular in our house. It's one of those little things we say to make sure everyone maintains a healthy self-esteem. Hannah particularly likes to say it, probably because she knows she'll get gales of laughter from me because she does the imitation so well. I might ask, "Hannah does this blouse look ok?" to which she'll look up and down my long svelte body and reply in a most nasally voice, "Well, you're not very smart and you're not very pretty. I'm glad we had this talk."

Sounds warped, I know. But it makes us laugh. It makes me puh-roud.

Several weeks ago my poor Rachael got a short lived little flu. She's usually healthy as a healthy horse so when I heard her puking I ran to the bathroom to find her hugging the toilet. Forgetting to check my humor at the door, I said, "Oh Lord, I hope this isn't that swine flu that's killin' everybody." Even in a puking state, Rachael started laughing and vomit dribbled out her nose. I know, sounds un-motherly and warped. But we laughed and that makes me puh-roud.

Deborah, the social butterfly, lives in fear of missing out on something. None of my children have had as many play-dates and social gatherings as Deborah. And every time we pick her up from one of them she asks, "What did you all do while I was gone?" Sounds healthy enough, but what she really means is did I miss anything? Not one to let the opportunity pass to damage a child, I reply along these lines. "We had a party with ice cream and every candy you can imagine. Even pop, lots of pop. I hired a clown and he came with his donkey." As I'm saying my part, the rest of the family is adding theirs. Everyone belts out their input: We went skating. Kalyna called to see if you could sleep over, I told her no. We went for pizza. We laugh as we all try to outdo each other's good time.

Ok, I THINK my family is back in my good graces. At least till I ask them to lift their pretty little fingers to help me out.

Hmm, maybe I spoke too soon.

Sleeping Beauty

Isn't this cute? This is Hannah coming home from a wild and wooly quiz meet. When asked if she had a good rest, she replied, "I was just looking out the window."

Here's the evidence that she wasn't "just looking out the window."

What a cutie.

Hannah's glasses

I've not posted a picture of my Hannah Bear since she got glasses. She's had them, I'm guessing, about 6 weeks. She's seeing lots better these days. She's at a Quiz Meet this weekend and I'm missing the little dear.

Seniors' Home

One of the most beautiful parts of our week is going to the seniors' home on Saturdays. Deborah, Hannah, and I volunteer in the dementia/Alzheimer's area. It is a glorious experience. We look forward to it every week and are smiling when we leave. We read to, play games with, and talk to the residents.

This little lady has taken a liking to Deborah and they walk and walk and walk around the wing. She asks Deborah repeatedly if she's warm enough. Deborah's patience and tenderness is precious. This week this lady's son-in-law sought me out to tell me how proud of Deborah I should be for her compassion and tenderness. 

Hannah and this gentleman play with these blocks every week. She is his favorite and they have a grand time together.

I am very blessed by this excursion every week. We have been six times. If I'd known how much we'd love it, we'd have started this a long time ago.

Hannah's Video

I got a new camera for Christmas. My old one was on its way out but I wasn't expecting it to die. However after giving it to Rachael it passed on to Canon Camera heaven.

I think I've told you these things:

1) Hannah is a goon. She's always coming up with weird zany things to say and do, sometimes producing some hilarious concoctions.

2) We have extra dogs in the house, creating some interesting scenarios.

My neice Mindi is an amazing photographer. I'll never be as good as her but I do hope to improve this year. That to say, I'm playing lots with my new camera and in my play I captured this video of Hannah being goofy.

The context of this video is the dogs chasing the cat. One dog actually got her cornered and, bam, Tawny surprised the dog with a paw in the face.

Which is now a saying we are over-using around here: "Bam, paw in the face."

Enjoy. And please comment as Hannah is so embarrassed that I put this on youtube.

Labels: funnies, Hannah, video

Christmas Eve

The evening began with a service at church where Deborah sang.

Then home to supper in the family room. Christmas Eve is the only time of year we eat here.
A lovely little clan enjoying sausage, cheese and crackers.
Bear loves the sausage especially.
Next is stocking time. Panties are a stocking staple, especially if the panties have turtles on them. Hannah is 12.
Everyone loves the cracker crowns. Rachael is 13.
Daddy and 9-year-old Deborah.
Nice undies, eh?

After stockings, we watched The Nativity Story, a lovely movie.

Next, bed time calls.
This is Frank, Myrrh, and Merry.
Since the girls were wee, on Christmas Eve they've slept with these bears. This year was no different. They are growing up, but they still took their bears to bed.
Before the girls went to bed they each took their gifts to the tree. The evening began with no gifts under the tree.

Night night little ones. In the morning you'll see that Santa came.

Labels: christmas, deborah, gordon, Hannah, photos, rachael

Picture Roulette

I got an interesting challenge from Joan today. Go to your pictures, open the 5th folder and post the 5th picture in the folder. It's cool how for me that was a Christmas folder. This is 2005 when each girl got a hamster for Christmas. Have I mentioned we like hamsters around here?

Have I mentioned Hannah bought two guinea pigs a few months ago? When we moved to this house she decided to take them to the SPCA to give them to someone else. Turns out the SPCA wanted $60 to take Daisy and Flossy off Hannah's hands. Ugh, I don't think so. However we left the SPCA with a new hamster. We went to drop off two guinea pigs and left with two guinea pigs PLUS a hamster. We are suckers.

I'm about to randomly go to my picture files and continue Joan's picture roulette game. The last photo in the 12th folder.

And I didn't plan that the 12th folder was a Christmas folder. This is from last year's Christmas.

Labels: animals, christmas, photos

Merry Christmas

I obviously said something really funny here.
Rachael 13, Hannah 12, Deborah 9.
A wee girl Hannah, 12 years old.

Labels: christmas, deborah, Hannah, photos, rachael

birth abroad

Children born to American citizens are American citizens. But if "Birth Abroad" isn't filed, their citizenship isn't proven, therefore worth nothing. I've been getting these sort of affairs in order. Yesterday the girls' "Birth Abroad" certificates came in the mail. They're snazzy birth certificates that look like they should be announcing a considerable award. These impressive-looking certificates have been on the console table in the hall for the past 24 hours.

Tonight Deborah was helping me tidy when she came across these certificates. "Hey what are these award winning certificates?," she asked.

"Those show that you're American citizens," I answered.

Hannah, who'd seen the certificates yesterday, poked her head around the corner. Looking as if she missed some of these papers' significance, asked slowly and seriously, "We're award-winning American citizens?"

christmas 2007 pictures

 

motherly lucy

I love my sweet dogs very much. Lucy is a beloved Basset Hound cross and has a most wonderful disposition. She has never had puppies, but certainly would have been a great mother.

Hannah recently bought an expensive ($35) fake dog. It's a Rottweiler puppy that "breaths." It is very realistic looking, rolled up in a little ball sleeping, steadily breathing. She named him Hoot.

Hoot has a little bed that he sleeps in on Hannah's bed. On Hoot's first day here, Hannah put him to bed on her bed. Later when she went to check on him, he was gone. She mildly panicked afraid the real dogs had destroyed him. (The dogs have destroyed their share of people toys.)

She got on her knees to look under the bed. (Lucy's "private place" is under Hannah's bed.) There she found Lucy and Hoot. Motherly Lucy had Hoot in a protected spot by her chest lovingly licking him.

a hannah note

I found another note, this one from sweet Hannah. She wrote: "Dear Mom, I bet your having a good time. And I bet romy boy looks so cute. Here's some things that I want: some chapter books, some Arcensa candy and a big kiss when you get home. Don't forget lipgloss. its time to go. Love ya'll. Bye Mom, SMOOCH, Sincerely Hannah"

Hannah has phoned me more than the others. I sure love hearing her sweet voice. She has lots of stories to tell when we talk. Speaking of stories, the first Sunday I was here, Hannah broke her arm. Yep, at church, doing back flips. She jokes that it's my fault because if I'd been there I wouldn't have let her do flips at church.

Some guy made this astute observation that makes me smile. He said he grew up in an era where everything was the kid's fault and his kids are growing up in an era where everything is the parent's fault.

 

dreamin' and nose piercing

Today Hannah said, "If I keep my dog-walking job for 35 years I'll be able to buy a convertible."

Two nights ago Rachael pierced her nose. Yes, she literally pierced her own nose. When I picked her up at school today I told her I was glad to see she still had a nose. She looked at me like I was weird so I added, "I'm glad it hasn't rotted off."

nasty slang

Rachael is in Junior High now. This has brought a few challenges to our home. Last week in a fun-loving way she said "screw you" to a friend. I told her not to say it and she said it didn't mean anything bad. I told her it meant the same thing as "f---you." She said it didn't either.

I guess they went to school the next day and asked what it means. That evening they told me I was wrong. "F--- you" means what it says. "Screw you," means "hump you." This was supposed to comfort me and make me willing to let them say it.

I told them that all those expressions mean the same thing. They were amazed at my ignorance yelling, "Mom, no they don't. Everyone says 'screw you.'"

I countered with, "I don't."

They let out wails of unbelief. I defended with "I know what humping is, I know what the 'f word' is, I know what screwing is; they are all nasty expressions for the same thing. Can we respect sex between a husband and wife enough to call is something besides any of those words?"

Hannah let out an exasperated sigh, "Mom, it's been eight years for you. Things have changed."

"Eight years?," I said.

She said, "YEEESSS! Eight years since Deborah was born. Things have changed."