When I started this blog a couple of years ago I was in a bubble on our homestead with young, precocious children without a care in the world. Things have changed so much since then. I find having a couple of preteens and all four actively homeschooled leaves me very little time for things like writing, painting, being carefree...not to mention more important things like bathing in peace or making the bed. I can't even keep a straight face on that line, I don't remember the last time either of those happened.
But one thing I have noticed is parenting has gotten a lot harder. Just since Bella has been born parenting has become so trendsetting theories are everywhere. Things have gotten so out of hand people compete to see who can be the most zen and creative best friend their kids have ever seen. (I'm sorry but I'm not even going to consider baby bird feeding my kids.) I've tried to show the light hearted side of motherhood but now realize my bubble made me see my children's childhood in rose colored glasses (or maybe rainbow colored ones on more exciting days.)
Because of those glasses being so rudely broken (four kids is it really that surprising they're broken?) I thought maybe I'd just tear it down to brass tacks. By that I'm going to do the very thing that drives me crazy, I'm going to tell you exactly how to fail as a parent. No, you didn't read that last sentence wrong I said FAIL!
Your probably all shaking your head thinking that's it she's finally lost it. My response....finally? I lost it the moment I found out I was going to be a mom. I devoured every book I could find. Thought I had all the answers, smirked when Martin slept through the night the first night home from the hospital. And then the second day home came......
I have tried every method of discipline known, looked at every psycho babble that came along, promised not to yell, find myself yelling, promised a million different times I was going to not screw up this gig. Guess what I fail every time I make that promise. I am not my kids' best friend, they don't always like me, and sometimes I'm not sure if they'll all survive till dinner without mommy hiding in the corner rocking and babbling to herself. (I find a great deal of relief in knowing I'm not the only parent that fails to keep it perfectly together everyday.)
Guess what else...my kids are individuals. They know right from wrong. They have different tastes in everything from clothes to music to activities they enjoy. They get punished differently. They are very afraid when they get caught. (As they should be.) But are they afraid of me? Not on your life. They're afraid of the punishment. Do they think if I don't explain every decision their father and I make they feel like they're not members of this family? lol That one is just utterly ridiculous. Do they understand life isn't fair and sometimes things just don't go your way? What kind of parent would I be if I led them to believe that the world would bend to their every whim while under our roof, then threw them out in the real world to find out the truth. I let them fail. And their failures are their own.
Once again you're probably rereading that last sentence going what? That's right. They fail and it's their fault. I don't fix it for them. But Honeybear and I are right there to help them up and give them the tools to fix it themselves. And hopefully I fail to step in enough that they learn to fix their problems themselves and not rely on others while they sit in the middle of their mess going but it's not my fault. (Remember the age old adage "Your raising the next generation." I'd like them not to be boomerang babies.)
Notice I've refrained from mentioning one concrete piece of advice or disciplinary tactics? Because children and families aren't cookie cutters! What works for Martin doesn't work for Degan or Madison. The only two things that in general terms holds for every child and parent is...1) know your child and 2) there has yet to be a perfect parent in the history of humanity the only thing you can hope for is you don't screw up to badly. So how do you fail at being a parent? You get pregnant.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
Super Gypsy
Yeah, yeah, I know you feel mistreated. I get back to writing and suddenly stop again. I 'm a big tease. You're not talking to me, you mean it this time. Yeah, I get it. But come on I have chocolate. Okay, so I can't really share cause Wonka Vision doesn't exist. Hey it's the thought that counts.
So a lots changed this winter. I don't mean just not having Pops around or settling into town living. I mean- this winter I got another ear infection and went deaf. Completely. Yeah, I'll sit back while you all gasp in horror and give me mental hugs. . . Not so tight people. Geeze. I'm deaf not dead. The fact of the matter is it's not big a difference from what I hear anyways. My hearing has gotten so bad it's more like I catch a letter sound than a word, if I'm lucky. I've gotten great at speech reading people.
And something amazing came out of it. Gypsy Rose is now my Hearing Dog. Yes, I'm serious the queen bee has come down off the throne to be my ears. Truthfully she's been doing it for longer than I can remember, I just didn't realize she could do it away from home. Let me give you the mental picture.
A wide-eyed, crazy looking woman is preceded by a small black pug with a bright orange leash and lettered vest. You notice a car coming around the aisle of the parking lot quicker than they're suppose to. The crazy looking dog lady isn't looking at the tire squealing vehicle and is walking right into it's path. You start to jump up and down to get either her attention or the drivers. And then you notice the small dog cross in front of her and sits preventing her from going forward. She looks down with a slightly puzzled look and starts looking around. This all happens quicker than ten seconds but she notices the car and starts waving her hands at the dog.
Sounds like fiction probably, right? That's actually exactly what Gypsy did for me the first time I took her in public with the intention of seeing if she'd benefit me. But it was really a ride on floor sweeper in Sam's club. (The car one came a few weeks later, and scared the reese's pieces out of me.) I nervously took her place to place at first. Waiting for a crowd to gather and point at me and say "Dogs aren't allowed in here!" It never came. And I realized how anxious I had become in public, and how that changed with Gypsy there. People didn't "sneak up" on me cause Gypsy blocked them. I knew exactly where my husband and kids were cause Gypsy told me. If we got separated it wasn't a frantic search in every direction I trusted Gypsy to take me to them. I even went to town...by myself! *GASP*
The weeks stretched on and after two different antibiotics my ear infection is gone, and gradually my hearing has "returned" at least for me. But even with my aid things aren't clear. So Gypsy remains my constant companion.
**Disclaimer: This should not be an tried unless your dog is specifically trained to a task and you are disabled. Gypsy is a highly unusual case. She has been trained and conditioned to do this at home for the past couple of years as my hearing declined. Which is the only reason she can be classified as a service dog. And she is exceptionally obedient to me and super socialized. Do not take your dog in public just because.**
So a lots changed this winter. I don't mean just not having Pops around or settling into town living. I mean- this winter I got another ear infection and went deaf. Completely. Yeah, I'll sit back while you all gasp in horror and give me mental hugs. . . Not so tight people. Geeze. I'm deaf not dead. The fact of the matter is it's not big a difference from what I hear anyways. My hearing has gotten so bad it's more like I catch a letter sound than a word, if I'm lucky. I've gotten great at speech reading people.
And something amazing came out of it. Gypsy Rose is now my Hearing Dog. Yes, I'm serious the queen bee has come down off the throne to be my ears. Truthfully she's been doing it for longer than I can remember, I just didn't realize she could do it away from home. Let me give you the mental picture.
A wide-eyed, crazy looking woman is preceded by a small black pug with a bright orange leash and lettered vest. You notice a car coming around the aisle of the parking lot quicker than they're suppose to. The crazy looking dog lady isn't looking at the tire squealing vehicle and is walking right into it's path. You start to jump up and down to get either her attention or the drivers. And then you notice the small dog cross in front of her and sits preventing her from going forward. She looks down with a slightly puzzled look and starts looking around. This all happens quicker than ten seconds but she notices the car and starts waving her hands at the dog.
Sounds like fiction probably, right? That's actually exactly what Gypsy did for me the first time I took her in public with the intention of seeing if she'd benefit me. But it was really a ride on floor sweeper in Sam's club. (The car one came a few weeks later, and scared the reese's pieces out of me.) I nervously took her place to place at first. Waiting for a crowd to gather and point at me and say "Dogs aren't allowed in here!" It never came. And I realized how anxious I had become in public, and how that changed with Gypsy there. People didn't "sneak up" on me cause Gypsy blocked them. I knew exactly where my husband and kids were cause Gypsy told me. If we got separated it wasn't a frantic search in every direction I trusted Gypsy to take me to them. I even went to town...by myself! *GASP*
The weeks stretched on and after two different antibiotics my ear infection is gone, and gradually my hearing has "returned" at least for me. But even with my aid things aren't clear. So Gypsy remains my constant companion.
**Disclaimer: This should not be an tried unless your dog is specifically trained to a task and you are disabled. Gypsy is a highly unusual case. She has been trained and conditioned to do this at home for the past couple of years as my hearing declined. Which is the only reason she can be classified as a service dog. And she is exceptionally obedient to me and super socialized. Do not take your dog in public just because.**
Friday, January 17, 2014
trapping the children
So not only is Honeybear the principal he sometimes takes on the role of student too. No, I don't make him sit in class or write sentences for misbehavior... but now that you mention it. No. No. It wouldn't work his handwriting will always look like a chicken was scratching at the paper.
Okay back on point forget my shiny moment. As I was saying sometimes he becomes his children's student. This gives them a great way to really learn and comprehend what I've been teaching them. It also serves me with a purpose...revenge. Look at today's lesson with their daddy and you will understand why.
Madison: Okay today we are goin' to talk about crust and core.
Honeybear: I don't mind the crust on my sandwiches.
Martin: No dad. Like Earth.
Honeybear: Of course I like Earth I'm a human.
Degan: NO! Layers of Earth.
Honeybear: You found Batman's lair?! Awesome.
Martin: (hand to his forehead) No. We mean like the mantle that moves-
Honeybear: Pappaw has two mantles and they don't move.
Madison: Daddy! Pay attention.
Honeybear: Why?
Madison: You won't learn if you don't.
(CRASH! That's the sound of the trap closing that Honeybear just set.)
Honeybear: Really? But I watched you yesterday and it didn't seem like you were.
(Dead silence as they realized they have just been caught in the principal's snare. Mwhahahahahaha.)
At this point they all look wide eyed and stumped. Honeybear gives them their warning and the lesson continues. Martin and Madison grab their white boards and draw a diagram. As they hold it up and start talking Honeybear interrupts with "What's an egg frying got to do with Earth?" Okay so their diagrams did kinda look like eggs but they completely disagreed.
Degan saved the day his explanation was great. "Dad, you're absolutely right. It does look like an egg and it's kinda like a fried egg. The yolk is liquid and hot like the core. The white is like the mantle semi solid but still sloshy. And the pan holding it in is the crust."
The lesson went on as they tend to. But I was proud my youngest had such a grasp of the material and saw such an astute connection to explain to his dad.
Tomorrow should be interesting they're suppose to teach him about forces that refigure the Earth. Hmmmm if Honeybear was teaching I might worry he'd go all Animal House on them and show them a volcano with whip cream or something in his mouth and show them what happens when forces is exerted to it.
Okay back on point forget my shiny moment. As I was saying sometimes he becomes his children's student. This gives them a great way to really learn and comprehend what I've been teaching them. It also serves me with a purpose...revenge. Look at today's lesson with their daddy and you will understand why.
Madison: Okay today we are goin' to talk about crust and core.
Honeybear: I don't mind the crust on my sandwiches.
Martin: No dad. Like Earth.
Honeybear: Of course I like Earth I'm a human.
Degan: NO! Layers of Earth.
Honeybear: You found Batman's lair?! Awesome.
Martin: (hand to his forehead) No. We mean like the mantle that moves-
Honeybear: Pappaw has two mantles and they don't move.
Madison: Daddy! Pay attention.
Honeybear: Why?
Madison: You won't learn if you don't.
(CRASH! That's the sound of the trap closing that Honeybear just set.)
Honeybear: Really? But I watched you yesterday and it didn't seem like you were.
(Dead silence as they realized they have just been caught in the principal's snare. Mwhahahahahaha.)
At this point they all look wide eyed and stumped. Honeybear gives them their warning and the lesson continues. Martin and Madison grab their white boards and draw a diagram. As they hold it up and start talking Honeybear interrupts with "What's an egg frying got to do with Earth?" Okay so their diagrams did kinda look like eggs but they completely disagreed.
Degan saved the day his explanation was great. "Dad, you're absolutely right. It does look like an egg and it's kinda like a fried egg. The yolk is liquid and hot like the core. The white is like the mantle semi solid but still sloshy. And the pan holding it in is the crust."
The lesson went on as they tend to. But I was proud my youngest had such a grasp of the material and saw such an astute connection to explain to his dad.
Tomorrow should be interesting they're suppose to teach him about forces that refigure the Earth. Hmmmm if Honeybear was teaching I might worry he'd go all Animal House on them and show them a volcano with whip cream or something in his mouth and show them what happens when forces is exerted to it.
Why me?
Seems Honeybear has taken a game the kids started years ago and become a supreme master. Let's just say as the years have gone on Gypsy Rose no longer sees any point in protecting me from "assilenation" attempts. In fact at times she is solely responsible for these attacks.
This all started with a simple request at Honeybear's break time. (He calls at 8:30 on break to say goodnight.) After saying night to the kids, we get a few minutes of idle chatter, tonight it went something like this...
Honeybear: Might be home early.
Me: So what does that mean tonight?
Honeybear: (playfully) I expect you to be up with a snack and drink. Ready to take off my boots and give me a foot massage. Like every good wife should when their husband gets home from work.
Me: (laughing) Well aren't you glad I don't hold myself to the standards of others.
Honeybear: You're slacking woman! Where's my pie?
Me: Now Honeybear what kind of wife would I be if I disregarded your whining about gaining weight? No pie till you lose...twenty pounds. Trim your beard up and you might hit your goal quicker and get pie...tomorrow.
Honeybear: (mockingly growls) Woman what'd I say!
Me: Bring me a coke.
Honeybear: No!
Me: (nonchalantly) M'kay no foot rub.
(By now we're both laughing. I mean if you can't give your spouse a hard time what's going to break up the day to day, right? At this point it's also time for him to go back to work so we say good night, he goes back I go tuck in.)
After prayers and tuck in I get the holy hour otherwise known as MOM TIME!
This is where I actually do my own thing. No schoolwork, housework, or anything other than purely selfish pampering. I watch a mindless uneducational show and paint my toes or something for a few before finishing up the days tasks. (Why not do that after the day's work is done? Did you not read my schedule last week? There is never an end! I must divide and conquer!)
Anyways after Mom time and more work I sat down to look through our texts book and devise a science project for this week and...fell asleep.
Sometime later I come to complete alertness to a deep growl and a dark figure reaching for me. I scream bloody murder as I see the inhuman girth of this creature with horns reaching for me and strike out at its nose. It jumps back laughing and the light is no longer at its back.
Yeah you guessed it...Honeybear. One of these days....to the moon Alice!
Ps. The inhuman girth was Honeybear still wearing his coveralls. His horns? He really needs a trim to his curls.
This all started with a simple request at Honeybear's break time. (He calls at 8:30 on break to say goodnight.) After saying night to the kids, we get a few minutes of idle chatter, tonight it went something like this...
Honeybear: Might be home early.
Me: So what does that mean tonight?
Honeybear: (playfully) I expect you to be up with a snack and drink. Ready to take off my boots and give me a foot massage. Like every good wife should when their husband gets home from work.
Me: (laughing) Well aren't you glad I don't hold myself to the standards of others.
Honeybear: You're slacking woman! Where's my pie?
Me: Now Honeybear what kind of wife would I be if I disregarded your whining about gaining weight? No pie till you lose...twenty pounds. Trim your beard up and you might hit your goal quicker and get pie...tomorrow.
Honeybear: (mockingly growls) Woman what'd I say!
Me: Bring me a coke.
Honeybear: No!
Me: (nonchalantly) M'kay no foot rub.
(By now we're both laughing. I mean if you can't give your spouse a hard time what's going to break up the day to day, right? At this point it's also time for him to go back to work so we say good night, he goes back I go tuck in.)
After prayers and tuck in I get the holy hour otherwise known as MOM TIME!
This is where I actually do my own thing. No schoolwork, housework, or anything other than purely selfish pampering. I watch a mindless uneducational show and paint my toes or something for a few before finishing up the days tasks. (Why not do that after the day's work is done? Did you not read my schedule last week? There is never an end! I must divide and conquer!)
Anyways after Mom time and more work I sat down to look through our texts book and devise a science project for this week and...fell asleep.
Sometime later I come to complete alertness to a deep growl and a dark figure reaching for me. I scream bloody murder as I see the inhuman girth of this creature with horns reaching for me and strike out at its nose. It jumps back laughing and the light is no longer at its back.
Yeah you guessed it...Honeybear. One of these days....to the moon Alice!
Ps. The inhuman girth was Honeybear still wearing his coveralls. His horns? He really needs a trim to his curls.
Friday, January 10, 2014
i miss sesame street
Yeah, yeah I have been quiet again. You try homeschooling four different grades with the holidays and everything going on and see if you have sanity left to string words together. As we get deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of homeschooling it takes more and more hours of prep and schooling.
When they were little we finger painted, watched sesame street, counted animal crackers, and practiced the alphabet and felt accomplished. Now I have to stair step through math, science, geography, social studies, language arts, history, art, asl, and reading. All while planning around my husband and other needs. (Although I'd be lying if I said the break from scouts, sports, and farming/gardening this last nine months hasn't been awesome.)
My routine looks something like this:
730 wake up, let dogs out, cook
8 feed kids, dogs, cats, and other assorted animals
845 clean up from the above step
9 shoo the kids away to do assigned reading
905 to 935 look for said assigned reading books that magically moved since yesterday
935 go back to cleaning only to find the mess has taken my absence to get
amorous and multiply
1030 start Honeybear's breakfast
11 clean up from second breakfast making, tell kids to start writing
1115 pausing to break up the fight over pencils for writing
12 start lunch, threaten kids with principal if they don't finish chores and
homework
1210 let dogs out and back in three times in a row cause they really need to
go but it's too cold for them
1 serve lunch
130 pack Honeybear's lunch box, locate specific hoody that has made a break
for it since he set it down
2 tell kids to get ready for school core (bathroom, hair combed, homework
ready to turn in etc.)
230 Honeybear leaves, school core starts along with dishwasher
645-8 school hours are over, dinner is started, kids tv time
830 Honeybear calls on break
9 to 915 bedtime routine
915 to ? repeatedly tell kids to go to sleep, turn tv on to a mom show and check
over school work and plan or alter school projects and objectives while
letting dogs in and out for final time of the night and the cat meows
But the bonus of all this extra school and kids getting older? They help out more with keeping the house up. So heh who cares I'd rather plan how to build bones than do dishes any day.
When they were little we finger painted, watched sesame street, counted animal crackers, and practiced the alphabet and felt accomplished. Now I have to stair step through math, science, geography, social studies, language arts, history, art, asl, and reading. All while planning around my husband and other needs. (Although I'd be lying if I said the break from scouts, sports, and farming/gardening this last nine months hasn't been awesome.)
My routine looks something like this:
730 wake up, let dogs out, cook
8 feed kids, dogs, cats, and other assorted animals
845 clean up from the above step
9 shoo the kids away to do assigned reading
905 to 935 look for said assigned reading books that magically moved since yesterday
935 go back to cleaning only to find the mess has taken my absence to get
amorous and multiply
1030 start Honeybear's breakfast
11 clean up from second breakfast making, tell kids to start writing
1115 pausing to break up the fight over pencils for writing
12 start lunch, threaten kids with principal if they don't finish chores and
homework
1210 let dogs out and back in three times in a row cause they really need to
go but it's too cold for them
1 serve lunch
130 pack Honeybear's lunch box, locate specific hoody that has made a break
for it since he set it down
2 tell kids to get ready for school core (bathroom, hair combed, homework
ready to turn in etc.)
230 Honeybear leaves, school core starts along with dishwasher
645-8 school hours are over, dinner is started, kids tv time
830 Honeybear calls on break
9 to 915 bedtime routine
915 to ? repeatedly tell kids to go to sleep, turn tv on to a mom show and check
over school work and plan or alter school projects and objectives while
letting dogs in and out for final time of the night and the cat meows
But the bonus of all this extra school and kids getting older? They help out more with keeping the house up. So heh who cares I'd rather plan how to build bones than do dishes any day.
Friday, November 15, 2013
A moment of silence
I have been very busy and not in the mindset to find the light side of life. A few days after my last post our wonderful Pops past away. You guys might remember me mentioning him a few times. Hillbilly definition redefined the one that comes to mind first.
The man was almost indescribable. He did one thing I never thanked him for but teased him about constantly. He raised my husband to be the wonderful man he is. He didn't have to you see, he met Honeybear when he was two. And while it was unspoken he was the one who was a true father to him. He taught my husband to work, hunt, fish, and what real men should be. He never spoke ill of the absent man he replaced. When Honeybear would be stood up he would never say a word just come hand him his baseball glove or start loading the fishing equipment. And while Honeybear might not bear much of a physical appearance to him, anyone who knew them both knew they were father and son the mannerisms were identical.
He was a man of many hats. Drummer in a country band (much to his chagrin as he hated country but he loved music), chicken catcher, rich man, poor man, outdoorsman, music aficionado, father, husband, son, friend, listener, and wise man. The first one on my husband's side to show me unconditional love and acceptance. An amazing granddad to our children. One of my favorite people in all the world.
The first prominent memory I have is of calling him Pops for the first time. I didn't know what to call him in my defense. Honeybear didn't call him anything. And ma called him hun. I forgot his name and couldn't think of anything else to say when I was trying to get his attention. He stopped mid stride and looked at me. That was it...the beginning of the end. He was from then Pops. My one regret is his dad was called Granddad and he wanted the kids to call him that too. But thanks to me they never got the hang of it.
He was an oddity to say the least. Looking at the scruffy man in cargo camo pants and old flannel shirt with vest and his crazy jack russel driving around in his old dodge with the Charlton Heston is my president bumper sticker you'd probably judge him to be a crazy old man. (Okay so you'd be right.) But if you stopped to pet Pando and say hi. You'd find a slow talking generous wise man that might just buy you lunch.
The first time we brought Martin up we left for the store and came back to his walker hanging from the porch roof to make him a swing. He would come and drop off fruit and treats for the kids, sometimes knocking, sometimes we'd walk out and find it on the porch. Before his health declined he'd come get them one at a time take them to town for lunch show them off and then take them fishing or to check traps. Every other Christmas we spent with them and Pops would act like a kid himself.
He was a man of few words, more so as his hearing got worse. But bring up one of his favorite subjects such as music, hunting, fishing, or grandbabies and he would talk to you forever. Many hours him and I sat and talked music. He introduced me to the Nace Brothers, and I actually got him to listen to Nickelback. And one time Zac Brown's Sic 'Em on a Chicken. He loved chicken songs his dad was a chicken catcher and Pops and Honeybear would do it with him every time they went to visit.
He seemed to doubt his role with us and I hope we changed that before he passed. He never was one to say how he felt...more of a nodder. When we first told him I was pregnant we gave him a cigar. After we left he told ma he probably wouldn't know the kid. (We lived a few hours away and couldn't get up much with both work schedules then.) Even when he doubted us he put that cigar away and it still was in a prominent place in his gun room along with pics of Honeybear through the years, and the father's day presents we had given him.
When Honeybear went to get something out of his truck for ma he found last years father's day card that he kept with him. Everywhere we went looking for this or that we found mementos of his love. Next to his chair in the garage...photo envelopes full of the kids pictures. His wallet (somewhere ma and Honeybear dare never touch before) pics of Ma when they first met and Honeybear's freshman picture. His desk...father's day cards and a special present for ma.
Sounds perfect right? Not really. He would purposely aggravate Ma.Make fun of me every chance he got. Let the kids watch Jaws one night on a sleepover. Bought my daughter spiderman shoe's cause that's what she wanted. And gave our kids way to many moon pies and suckers. Refused to let Honeybear fix things the last couple of years insisting he'd have a good day and get to it. And told us more times than we could count we were making bad choices. (He later came to love a few of those bad choices but wasn't to happy when we told him another was on the way.) He's been to two (out of 6) houses of ours and even in helping us get this house never saw it before he passed. He yelled at Honeybear, me, and the kids for no reason a few times. And let his jack russel pup Pearl run wild after Pando passed six months ago. He also refused to listen to doctors and cared more about his beagles than he did himself. He was aggravating as all get out this last year at times and I wanted to shake him. But I would give just about anything to be able to talk to him one more time and tell him how much he really meant to each and every one of us.
The man was almost indescribable. He did one thing I never thanked him for but teased him about constantly. He raised my husband to be the wonderful man he is. He didn't have to you see, he met Honeybear when he was two. And while it was unspoken he was the one who was a true father to him. He taught my husband to work, hunt, fish, and what real men should be. He never spoke ill of the absent man he replaced. When Honeybear would be stood up he would never say a word just come hand him his baseball glove or start loading the fishing equipment. And while Honeybear might not bear much of a physical appearance to him, anyone who knew them both knew they were father and son the mannerisms were identical.
He was a man of many hats. Drummer in a country band (much to his chagrin as he hated country but he loved music), chicken catcher, rich man, poor man, outdoorsman, music aficionado, father, husband, son, friend, listener, and wise man. The first one on my husband's side to show me unconditional love and acceptance. An amazing granddad to our children. One of my favorite people in all the world.
The first prominent memory I have is of calling him Pops for the first time. I didn't know what to call him in my defense. Honeybear didn't call him anything. And ma called him hun. I forgot his name and couldn't think of anything else to say when I was trying to get his attention. He stopped mid stride and looked at me. That was it...the beginning of the end. He was from then Pops. My one regret is his dad was called Granddad and he wanted the kids to call him that too. But thanks to me they never got the hang of it.
He was an oddity to say the least. Looking at the scruffy man in cargo camo pants and old flannel shirt with vest and his crazy jack russel driving around in his old dodge with the Charlton Heston is my president bumper sticker you'd probably judge him to be a crazy old man. (Okay so you'd be right.) But if you stopped to pet Pando and say hi. You'd find a slow talking generous wise man that might just buy you lunch.
The first time we brought Martin up we left for the store and came back to his walker hanging from the porch roof to make him a swing. He would come and drop off fruit and treats for the kids, sometimes knocking, sometimes we'd walk out and find it on the porch. Before his health declined he'd come get them one at a time take them to town for lunch show them off and then take them fishing or to check traps. Every other Christmas we spent with them and Pops would act like a kid himself.
He was a man of few words, more so as his hearing got worse. But bring up one of his favorite subjects such as music, hunting, fishing, or grandbabies and he would talk to you forever. Many hours him and I sat and talked music. He introduced me to the Nace Brothers, and I actually got him to listen to Nickelback. And one time Zac Brown's Sic 'Em on a Chicken. He loved chicken songs his dad was a chicken catcher and Pops and Honeybear would do it with him every time they went to visit.
He seemed to doubt his role with us and I hope we changed that before he passed. He never was one to say how he felt...more of a nodder. When we first told him I was pregnant we gave him a cigar. After we left he told ma he probably wouldn't know the kid. (We lived a few hours away and couldn't get up much with both work schedules then.) Even when he doubted us he put that cigar away and it still was in a prominent place in his gun room along with pics of Honeybear through the years, and the father's day presents we had given him.
When Honeybear went to get something out of his truck for ma he found last years father's day card that he kept with him. Everywhere we went looking for this or that we found mementos of his love. Next to his chair in the garage...photo envelopes full of the kids pictures. His wallet (somewhere ma and Honeybear dare never touch before) pics of Ma when they first met and Honeybear's freshman picture. His desk...father's day cards and a special present for ma.
Sounds perfect right? Not really. He would purposely aggravate Ma.Make fun of me every chance he got. Let the kids watch Jaws one night on a sleepover. Bought my daughter spiderman shoe's cause that's what she wanted. And gave our kids way to many moon pies and suckers. Refused to let Honeybear fix things the last couple of years insisting he'd have a good day and get to it. And told us more times than we could count we were making bad choices. (He later came to love a few of those bad choices but wasn't to happy when we told him another was on the way.) He's been to two (out of 6) houses of ours and even in helping us get this house never saw it before he passed. He yelled at Honeybear, me, and the kids for no reason a few times. And let his jack russel pup Pearl run wild after Pando passed six months ago. He also refused to listen to doctors and cared more about his beagles than he did himself. He was aggravating as all get out this last year at times and I wanted to shake him. But I would give just about anything to be able to talk to him one more time and tell him how much he really meant to each and every one of us.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Martin in the Spotlight
My oldest wrote part of a story in class yesterday. He asked if I would put it up for all the world to read. (I don't think he understands how unfamous I am.) But in his words who cares cause he's going to be famous enough for the both of us.
SUPER DUCK
Super duck is about a duck that got his powers by a magic well. Let me tell the story, okay enough jibber jabber. It starts on an island called 123 (oddly enough shaped like the number 4) and there lived two best friends a duck called Duckler and a mouse called Shaperowe. Now that you have met those two let's get to the time where Duckler was making a meal (completely out of coconuts.)
Out of coconuts? Well, they had been shipwrecked on 123 for awhile. The fact is 123 is not a true island. It is a giant floating junkyard. Started with one ship called Collision (named after the captains lady love) hit a small pebble that a seagull had dropped after having mistaking it for a crab. Unbelievably the small pebble generated so much power it went through all the decks. And Collision slowly sunk halfway below the surface.
It wouldn't be a problem except for the storm that caused the lightning that struck the seagull that made it drop the pebble. As the storm moved it created the fog that covered the Collision. And then the other ships didn't see it and 123 slowly floated and built itself off the wrecked ships that came to close to the storm.
Obviously this isn't the end but I have to correct and help him transition the next scene. He's really very talented. But him dictating changes to me is impossible to comprehend he talks to fast and isn't clear. The writing might be riddled with misspellings but it's clever and precise in idea.
SUPER DUCK
Super duck is about a duck that got his powers by a magic well. Let me tell the story, okay enough jibber jabber. It starts on an island called 123 (oddly enough shaped like the number 4) and there lived two best friends a duck called Duckler and a mouse called Shaperowe. Now that you have met those two let's get to the time where Duckler was making a meal (completely out of coconuts.)
Out of coconuts? Well, they had been shipwrecked on 123 for awhile. The fact is 123 is not a true island. It is a giant floating junkyard. Started with one ship called Collision (named after the captains lady love) hit a small pebble that a seagull had dropped after having mistaking it for a crab. Unbelievably the small pebble generated so much power it went through all the decks. And Collision slowly sunk halfway below the surface.
It wouldn't be a problem except for the storm that caused the lightning that struck the seagull that made it drop the pebble. As the storm moved it created the fog that covered the Collision. And then the other ships didn't see it and 123 slowly floated and built itself off the wrecked ships that came to close to the storm.
Obviously this isn't the end but I have to correct and help him transition the next scene. He's really very talented. But him dictating changes to me is impossible to comprehend he talks to fast and isn't clear. The writing might be riddled with misspellings but it's clever and precise in idea.
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