now ... with pictures!!! >> first day of school ... first day of school!

It's been a while since I've had a chance to sit down and update my blog ... a lot has happened since my last post.  We moved from Virginia to Texas, unpacked hundreds of boxes, unloaded five truck loads to Goodwill and the dump (and I thought I had purged well before we moved), found the local grocery store, registered the children for school, scheduled two to have their tonsils and adenoids removed (next week!), and have been trying to "set up camp" at our new digs.

At some point I hope to have some time to sit down and write about each of those things in a bit more detail, because there is an incredible story for the memory banks within each situation.

Alas, the older our children grow, the less hours there are in the day. I'm not sure how it's possible, but it's true.  Consider....  ZOOM, today was the first day of fifth grade, and second grade.





(Pinch me.)

Henry is at a different school than his siblings, and his bus picked him up this morning at 7:15 AM.   Which is approximately 45 minutes earlier than when the bus picked him up in Virginia ... or to be technical, 55 minutes earlier than how long our bus driver would sit and wait for us at the top of the hill.   God Bless that Mr. Yani. 

The trio's bus didn't arrive until 8:20 AM, but they were up, dressed, fed, and waiting with their wittle brother to wave him goodbye.  William then spent 30 minutes doing P90X because he had some nervous energy to work out.  I'd like to think he gets that from me, but no... my nervous energy is usually resolved with a nap.  Usually after I vacuum the couch cushions.



When the kids arrived home this afternoon, we met all the neighborhood children at the bus stop with a wagon full of lemonade and banana muffins.  Greeting the kids on the first day of school with lemonade and a treat, was just one of the many fun traditions that we picked up while living in Virginia that we've decided to bring, here.



While we were a little ambivalent about moving, we are so excited to be here, now. This next chapter of our lives will be filled with amazing adventure and learning.   Like just today, my children taught me the Pledge to the Texas flag.  I'd had no idea Texas had their very own pledge.

(Apparently, 16 other states do, too.)

PS: It seems I don't remember how to share photos from Flickr to my blog anymore.  Why must people change things?  I'm hardly able to keep up anymore.  Hopefully, one of my more technically savvy children will be able to give me a tutorial next time I'm on line.

and so it is, another chapter concludes

Last Friday, we closed on our new house in Texas.  This week, our Virginia home has been swarmed by packers who are loading up everything and preparing for the move south this Friday.  In this time and space between moving from one place to another, we've been saying goodbye to so many wonderful friends that we've been blessed to know in our nearly five years in this area.

Like the amazing people we knew in San Diego, our northern Virginia friends will be sorely missed. So rather than dwell on the sadness of moving away from these incredible people, we are trying very hard to revel in the gratitude of having the opportunity to know them, at all.  Even still, I'm sure there will be tears because we really adore our friends.



As I've told the children, life is a book comprised of chapters. Each chapter teaches us something different, and with each chapter, there comes an eventual end.   So while we're in that chapter - it's important to learn what we can, and do our best to enjoy it to the utmost.  Almost daily, I imagine the chapter coming to an end ... and so it is, I've become pretty good at cherishing moments.

Our moments today were epic.  

We spent a sun-drenched afternoon and starry evening, with some of our best friends, at our neighborhood pool.  What I want to sear in to my memory, is the way that we all felt so comfortable with each other, and how we laughed until our cheeks hurt.   I want to remember our beloved friends.  Tomorrow, our last full day in town, we'll be back at the pool with more dear friends who are carving time out of their busy lives, to come spend moments with us, and say "see you later."

Because we absolutely will see them later ... of that I'm sure.



What I also want to sear in to my memory, is the 14-year old son of our good friends, who is an extremely accomplished swimmer, that has been on a year-round swim team for the past five years. Those early morning practices are surely what has contributed to him becoming one of the top swimmers in his club, and the region.  A swimming scholarship for college is likely in his future if he stays on the current trajectory.

Today when we were in the pool, I asked him what was his best stroke, and he responded, "Fly."  As in, butterfly.  Because I absolutely love to talk smack with the kids, I asked him if he thought he could beat me in a race across the pool, and without hesitation he politely said, "Yes, M'am."

So I said, "Really? You really think you can beat ME?" Then I added, "Did you know that I swam a bit when I was in high school?" and his cheeks flushed as he replied, "Um. No, I didn't know that you swam a bit in high school. But yes, I'm pretty sure I could beat you in a race across the pool."  And so I said, "BRING IT."  And he said, "What?"

And I said, "YOU HEARD ME. LET'S GO."

So this young man, on the verge of earning his Eagle Scout rank, made his way to one lane, and I made my way to another lane, right near the edge of the pool. Charlie made his way to the middle of the pool, where with his hands above his head, he shouted, "Swimmers! Take your mark!"  Nearly all the eyes in the pool were directed at me, the mother of four, perched next to the 14-year old ranked regional swimmer, as Charlie yelled, "GO!" and threw down his hands.

The young whipper snapper bolted off the wall so fast, he was an instant blur.  As he did this, I flung myself out of the pool as fast as I could and SPRINTED down the deck of the pool hoping that: 1) the lifeguards wouldn't blow the whistle and publicly chastise me for running; and 2) I wouldn't slip and break a hip. Even running at nearly breakneck speed, I could barely keep up with him in the water.  I made it to the end of the pool, did a shallow dive and free-styled it the last two meters to the wall.

Miracle of miracles,  I hit the wall just an instant before he did, but it was unquestionable - I was there first, smiling at him when he surfaced.  People around us burst out laughing.

The look of absolute astonishment on this young man's face was priceless. PRICELESS.  He stammered, "Wow. Did you say you swam competitively in college? How did you do that? How are you so fast?!" And I replied, "That was nothing ... like a brisk stroll in the park."

He was stunned in to silence, but you could tell he was extremely impressed.

And humbled.  

Because so many of the kids had been swimming behind him, seeing if they could keep up, they were not even aware that I'd run the distance.  All the kids that is, with the exception of my son, William.  He was aghast and said, "MOM, oh my gosh, MOM! You so totally che...." But he didn't  get to finish that sentence because I put my hand on top of his cute little head and playfully pushed him underwater to silence the chap.  Then I pinched his bottom which is my code for, "ZIP IT."



Eventually my conscience got the better of me, and I came clean and told the young man how I'd won.  As I did, I added, "Just so you know, it wasn't really 'cheating', because I challenged you to a race across the pool. But never once did I say I'd SWIM it. Ah, ha! That's what you call a loophole!"

In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have told him.

It'd be fun to end this chapter, as the middle-aged mom who whooped a state-ranked swimmer.

the no mercy rules

I had to host a fairly large conference call this afternoon, and since I've been working from home and my office is essentially the kitchen counter - Charlie took the kids out for the day.  Elizabeth had to get fitted with her new retainer, because her braces were removed yesterday ... and Henry had to have a plantar's wart removed from his hand, because ... well.

He had a wart that required removal.  

In the midst of these appointments, which were spaced nearly three hours apart, Charlie took the kids to the park with a bucket full of baseballs, a bat, three bases, and a couple gloves.

Once they arrived at the park, Henry recognized that one of his good friends from 1st grade was there. So while the kids all ran off to play, Charlie struck up a conversation with the boy's mother.  In the course of small talk, she indicated that she was a fire fighter and was telling my husband about all of the training and conditioning that she needs to go through.  My husband told her that he was afraid of heights and our 74-year old neighbor, a retired fire fighter himself, recently came over and cleared out our gutters because he totally froze after reaching the eighth rung.

According to Charlie, they laughed about this. And I laughed upon hearing the story, because I love his honesty and no-shame policy.   He owns his fear and it's awesome!

At one point, they looked down to the field, and upon noticing that the children had recruited more children - and had divided in to teams for a baseball game - they commented how nice it was that the children are at an age where they can keep themselves entertained.

Shortly thereafter, Charlie said he saw that Henry was loudly crying as the third baseman. Even from far away, Charlie could see their pitcher had tears on his face.  Suspecting that something was amiss, he questioned how the team's had been divided?

Could the mother of Henry's friend see how they had split up the teams?

She could not. So Charlie walked down to investigate.  And what he discovered is that William and Elizabeth and several other athletically inclined kids aged 10 and up, were on one team.  And Carolyn and Henry and several other not as athletically inclined kids who were aged 8 and under, were on the other team.  According to a nonchalant William, "Mercy Rules" were in play so the first team to reach 10 won.   At that point, William's team was up 8 to 0.

So Charlie, being the awesome Charlie that he is, said to Henry, "Hey little man, can I be on your team?"  Henry tearfully nodded yes, and Charlie ran out to the outfield, where he caught the next three pop ups to quickly end the inning and get his team up at bat.

He then coached the kids so that at each bat, they advanced to a base. By the time he got up, with no outs - the bases were loaded. That's when my husband knocked the ball out of the park, and in to the lot next door.  A few minutes later, he did it again, and the game was tied much to the dismay of William's team who were complaining, "Hey, it's not fair...!"

Not fair?  

According to Charlie, since the kids seemed to know all about "mercy rules" he felt it was his duty to teach them about "no mercy" rules. Those are the kind that precipitate when you unfairly gang up on someone else.  So as Henry's little friend was running home for the 10th run, effectively winning the game, my husband yelled out, "You are burning up this game little dude, your hooves are on FIRE!" 

The little kids were laughing deliriously, the bigs kids were sulking, and the mother firefighter said next time she comes to the park, she'll drive her water tanker.  William and Elizabeth politely told her that wouldn't be necessary.

Oh, I love when a good life lesson is learned in the course of outdoor fun!

my two new mottos

I've been talking with my sister, Beth, every single day for the past month.  The average length of those conversations are about an hour.  But we talked for 6.5 hours on Thursday night and in to Friday morning, and I was amazed that:

1. We didn't run out of things to talk about, and

2. My cordless battery held up as well as it did.

Miracles never cease to exist!

During our ritualistic phone call last night, Beth asked me why I've been so negligent about updating my blog, lately.  Of course she said this tongue and cheek, because holy mackerel. 



We're in escrow on one house that following the inspection, had questionable stucco integrity (read: potential of devastating mold), and we're getting another house ready for sale.  That sale was delayed only slightly by a tree that almost fell on top of the house.

FYI:  Under normal circumstances, that huge red oak in the backyard isn't leaning at a 60-degree angle over our house.   Although a new roof (and two new vehicles) would be nice, that's not something I was planning. Especially since we just finished our kitchen and master bath remodel; both are which are on the IMMINENT COLLAPSE TREE side of the house.



And last week, as said tree was being removed to the tune of $4,700 ... we discovered that we need a new septic because it failed the inspection (located beneath the fence sections because the inspector wouldn't even cover the tanks up again.  Leaving a 2-foot deep hole in the middle of the yard, didn't bode too well for me and my safety-oriented mind since a tree was partially removed and I had contractors still walking around with chainsaws).  Ruh-Roh!



The list of our house in Virginia has been pushed back two weeks, the close on the Texas house is scheduled for next week, and the moving truck is scheduled for the week after that.  I'm still not sure how we'll host an open house with four children who have been attempting to undermine our move by destroying things, and have an insane infatuation with Legos that they leave all over the house; two guinea pigs that seem to be pooping a lot more in the past month than they ever have in their entire lives, and one dog who keeps running away.    What's insane is that these situations are absolutely eclipsed by a much larger situation, that has had me talking to my sister Beth every night for the past month. But I can't write about it.  Which really pains me, you know.

In the midst of this:  There have been a lot of tea parties.



Muscle-man competitions with best friends.



Swimming.



And our littlest one turned eight.



The only thing I do know is that life is never boring.  And I'm feeling so blessed, because just about every obstacle that we're dealing with right now, are what I consider "First World Problems."  My new motto has become, "Can you solve the issue with money?"  If so, it really isn't an issue at all.

Until you run out of money. 

So for any one who tells me they've been praying for us ... I'd like to know, who exactly are you praying to? And also, are you maybe holding a Voo-Doo doll during those prayers and jabbing it in the pocket book?  

That was supposed to be a joke. I think it's hilarious.  Which leads me to my other motto of, "Always laugh."  Despite the most seemingly grim circumstances, there's bound to be a glint of humor in there, somewhere.   Do your best to mine that glint and light up the world with it.

... on the upside*

While I'm in Texas this week house-hunting ... Charlie is in Virginia with the children, trying to get things buttoned up so we can list our house in the next two weeks.  His list of items still to-do, which was approximately two feet long, had been reduced to just a few items. Until, this afternoon, when a tornado touched down in our back yard.



Now he just needs to figure out which box he packed his saw.

(*The good news is that the tree didn't slice the house in completely half. Although it will need to be entirely removed and Charlie's fort that he had worked so hard to build, has been reduced to debris.  More good news ... because I'm trying really hard to stay focused on the positive ... our house isn't supposed to list until the end of the month so we have time to clear up the hardwood carnage. Then again, at the rate the Universe keeps throwing us curveballs, I'm afraid to commit to which month that is exactly - but we'll just aim for June.)

duo

on being wonder woman

Henry, who is going through a particularly big super hero phase at the moment, came home from school on Friday and told me that during "Show and Tell", he informed his 1st grade class that his mother is actually "Wonder Woman."  That he feels that way about me, despite my less than stellar maternal moments the past few weeks, is encouraging.

I love that little boy. He is my medicine.

This past month has been a whirlwind.  Between major home renovations, a pending list and sale of our current home, a future selection and purchase of a new home, a relocation that was slated for four weeks from now, mentally preparing for a new community - office - schools - church - grocery store, Carolyn's surgery (which has been scheduled and canceled twice), William's heel (he injured his Achilles'), and my father's passing ... it's no wonder I've been a bundle of cranky nerves.

My dear friend is a clinical psychologist, and when during one of our walks I was talking about recent and forthcoming events, she asked, "Do you realize you are going through about three of the five most stressful situations in life ... all at once?"  

When I went to see my doctor this week for bronchitis I haven't been able to shake for the past month, and recounted for him just some of the things that we have happening (there are so many other things that are causing stress, which I'll maybe write about later); he just shook his head and gave me the advice to slow down and take some time for me.   

But, but.  Doctor!  How can I possibly slow down when I have so ... much ...  to ... do?

People are counting on me!

Contractors, realtors, supervisors, teachers!

On Friday, I had lunch with a co-worker, who was telling me that several young women we work with, who recently had babies, were anxious to return to work before their newborns were even two-months old.  I was aghast that they were pushing themselves so hard ... these new mothers are granted more time off from our employer, so why aren't they taking it?  Someone needs to tell them that the world will not stop spinning if they take some additional time for themselves, and their families.

As the words were leaving my mouth, I recognized the irony in my statement.

Why are we so resistant to nurturing ourselves?  Why are we so keen to keeping up appearances that we are more than capable of doing everything, and more, on some compressed schedule?  Perhaps it's not even intentional that we impose requirements upon ourselves and expect that we can sustain them - over time?  Why do we work so hard and furiously fast??

I sat in the parking lot of a the restaurant for a few minutes, thinking hard about what I really needed to have happen in order to get that weight of an elephant off my chest.  And then I sent my boss an honest e-mail that indicated I will not be ready to fly to Texas this week and buy a new house, nor will I be ready to list our house next week.  The moving truck that was scheduled for June 29th will need to be postponed until sometime in July. Or maybe even August.

I'll admit that I was nervous to tell my boss these things, so it helped that a doctor, someone from the medical industry, a trained professional (!), had told me something I already knew: my first priority is my health, and the health of my daughter.  It also helps that I am in a situation where I might be offered some latitude. I cannot comprehend how people that have no choice continue to function.

First, I need to get healthy because the last time I was under a lot of stress, I nearly died. Some stress = Good Motivator.  Too much stress =  Not Good.  It can be a fuzzy line, but when it feels like your heart and/or head are going to pop (and you find yourself swearing a lot), you've likely migrated in to the Not Good zone.  Once I'm well, Carolyn needs to have her tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy surgery.  And once she is recovered - which will take approximately two weeks, we will list our house.  It would be less than ideal to show our house while someone is recovering from major surgery.  So ... we won't do it. 

My boss immediately wrote me back and said, "Agreed. We'll see you when you get here."

I am so, so fortunate to have such a good boss, since my last one was so ... awful.  

The rest of the stuff, the buying a new house, the selling of our current house, the move - the acclimation to an entirely new environment ... those things will all happen, and fall in to place - just as they are meant to be.

But not today, so today I don't need to worry about them.  Today, I am just grateful for the beauty outside my window.

Amazing. The world is spinning on it's axis and I'm not even helping it.

in memoriam - 2015

Taking a break from a basketball game (the kids) and cleaning out the garage (Charlie and I), to put up our American flag …



And remember those who gave all for our country.

Dad's celebration of life

My family nominated me to write and deliver my father's eulogy last week, and I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to find the right words, or say the right things. I was also so afraid that I'd be an absolute basket case, unable to talk. Instead, the day before Dad's funeral, the words miraculously came to me in less than an hour time; and I was able to deliver them almost tearlessly.  I'd asked for clarity and composure, and my father in heaven responded.  

Both of them!

Here's the eulogy I delivered, and some of the photos that I took during the service. The weather was perfect, a beautiful blue-sky day with nary a cloud in sight. The skies and seas were calm; both literally and figuratively. The only thing that could have made it better, is if my mother was physically with us - but because she could not leave Jim - she was most definitely with us in spirit. Mom, I know you and Dad were so proud of us.  I was, too.

*******

Good morning everyone, thank you for being here today.  We’re gathered here not to grieve, but to celebrate the life of my father, Walter Francis Foley.  You may know him as Walter or Walt, the tireless pharmacist who worked the bench at Snow’s Pharmacy and served the town of Concord for more than 30 years.  For his seven children, he was Dad.  For his 20 grandchildren, and five great grandchildren, he was Grampy.  For all of us, he was a good and kind man, a quiet man, who worked so hard, loved a good joke or story, and spent his life serving others.

A lot of people work hard. But to put it in perspective, my mother and father had six children in seven years.  Their sixth son, Walter Junior, was born a few months after Snow’s Pharmacy opened.  Remember: this was 50 years ago, back in the days before all-night drive through pharmacies, or places where you can fill your prescription while you shop for groceries.   In the 1960’s if you needed medication, you got it from the drugstore, when it was open.  Snow’s was always open for those in need.  

For the next six years, my father with the unwavering support of his devoted wife, Mary, worked seven days a week, often heading down to “The Shop” in the middle of the night to prepare medicine for people who needed it, urgently.  Dad (and later all of the kids) also delivered prescriptions, free of charge. 

(17 of my father's 20 grandchildren served as his pallbearers)

“Running deliveries” meant driving all around town, and bringing medication and supplies to those who could not leave their homes. This was really sacred work for Dad, because he knew that sometimes, he might be the only person that his customers had seen all day, or all week.  So not only would he bring them their medication, he would sit and talk with them. People knew that he cared.  And he did. My father did not take a single vacation until the summer of 1970.  And, so it is, I was born nine months later, in the Spring of 1971, just three days before my father’s 40th birthday. Happy Birthday Dad!

But you know, my father didn’t ever call it “work.”  It wasn’t work to him, it was his life-long passion and God-given calling to help other people.  Whether it be the thousands of customers that he served through the years in his beloved Shop; or the strangers whose roads he would plow with his Ford Truck after a big snowstorm.  Or the patients at Emerson Hospital he so gently transported by wheelchair and gurney for a few years, following his third and final retirement from Snow’s.  My mother and father, together, instilled in each of their seven children a work ethic and sense of compassion, that is stronger than welded steel. 

(My brother, Wally, reading Ecclesiastes.)

Because my mother was so devoted to raising our family, my father was able to devote his attention to his profession. And he was the inspiration for two of his children, his daughters Marylou and Beth, to also choose pharmacy as their careers.   What a tribute!

(Wally's children bringing forth the communion gifts.)

Earlier in his life, Dad served as a radio operator in the Navy.  And the flags are at half-mast, today, in Concord Center because of Dad’s service to our country.  His time in the Navy sparked a love of the ocean, and some of my best memories of my father are those spent on the boat with him, sitting up on the fly bridge, Dad’s got a can of Budweiser in his hand, I’m on his knee, and he’s singing, “Bell Bottom Trousers and Coats of Navy Blue!” Some of my most frightening memories were on the boat, too, because as my siblings can all attest, there were a few times, we had trouble at sea. On the upside, Dad gave us a wonderful opportunity to get on a first name basis with the Coast Guard.  There’s always that silver lining!

The past few years have been difficult sailing for my father, but he navigated the rocky waters of Parkinson’s with grace.  And I have been blinded by the love and devotion that my family has shown to my father during this time. As we heard in Wally's reading of Ecclesiastes, there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens.  And as we heard in Janet's reading of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, “These three remain: Hope, Faith and Love. But the greatest of these is LOVE.” The family tree really is the strongest tree and I am so amazed and proud of how beautifully our family has demonstrated that.  

To my mother, who has been a role model of what it means to forgive and love.  To my Aunt Peggy, who drove in from Boston to visit my father so frequently, always equipped with chocolate desserts for his sweet tooth. 

To my sister Marylou, who would fly up to visit Dad, and slept many a night on the pull-out couch at Robbin’s Brook. To my sister Janet, who never showed up to visit Dad without her manicure kit in hand and would spend hours, restoring Dad to his handsome glory. 

To my sister, Eileen, who nurtured Dad’s spirit with inspirational scripture and verse. To my brother, Wally, who never ceased – not even in Dad’s final hours - nurturing his heart with laughter.  My father’s final words were spoken in response to Wally, when my brother asked him if he’d like a Budweiser beer.  His reply? YES!

But most importantly, to my brother, Frank and my sister, Beth.  

God Bless You, both. 

To Frank – for visiting Dad nearly every single day, for bringing him to your home, for letting him in to your heart, and for doing everything you could do to carry out his wishes. I know it hasn’t always been easy, but we are thankful to you.  

To Beth - for being Dad’s Number One wingman, not only on the pharmacy bench, but in life.  You have devoted yourself to Dad, and at least for me, I never would have had the relationship that I was so blessed to have with Dad, if not for your unwavering and selfless efforts.   

In the words of another great Concord man – Ralph Waldo Emerson:

"To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."

By this definition, my father was a wildly successful man.  He loved, and he was loved. And so many lives breathed easier because of him.  Dad made the world better, just by being in it.  But Dad wasn’t only successful; he was incredibly lucky to have a family that adored him. The last time I talked with Dad, was when we wished each other a Happy Birthday - just two weeks ago. He was with me when I took my first breath at Emerson; and I had the privilege of being with him when he took his last breath - in the same hospital.  

This past Sunday night, and early in to Monday morning, he was at various times, flocked by his children, several grandchildren, and his sister – who held his hands and feet, sang him his favorite songs including a more risqué version of “Bell Bottom Trousers”, and recounted some of our best family memories. 


(Father Gomes, also a former Navy pharmacist!)

Dad did not leave this world alone; he was surrounded in laughter and love, and it was magnificent.

So thank you again to our dear friends and family for being a part of our father’s successful life. Maybe you came to my father for medicine, but the truth is, each and every one of you were HIS medicine.  Your kindness, your friendship, your stories, your lives … is what made his life so happy and full.  



Science has taught us that energy is neither created nor destroyed, so it is our most heartfelt prayer that you always feel our father’s loving energy surround you. He is now part of the thousand winds that blow – the diamond glints on the snow; the sunlight on ripened grain; the gentle falling autumn rain.  



Dad will forever live in in the hearts of those who loved him.  And he will forever be remembered every time we pick up a broom, because Dad so loved to sweep.  

To our Aunt Ann, thank you again for being here; my father would be so honored that you sang at his Celebration of Life ... you always were his favorite singer.  


(Our amazing family cantor singing, "The Prayer of St. Francis.")

a beautifully sad day

This morning, we said goodbye to our Dad, Walter.



In his final hours, he was surrounded by his children, and his younger sister, who gently held his hands and feet, kissed his cheek, told him stories, sang him songs, and loved him.  Together, we gracefully and peacefully helped to usher him from this world.  It was one of the most beautiful and powerful experiences of my life.

Tonight in Massachusetts, the air is soft and warm. The first wave of spring flowers have erupted with their yellow blooms. And although it is not very clear from my iPhone photo (distorted by lights from the elementary school), there is a gorgeous full moon rising in the sky, shining on us all.



I'm certain it's no coincidence.

pass the dramamine, please

At this very moment, our house resembles a scene from "Hoarders: Buried Alive!" and I have a lot of work (read: days and days) to do to get things back in order. But I'm taking a quick moment to capture a few things happening, for posterity...

The kitchen demolition started yesterday.



The fan over the stove came down and with it, a huge dead rodent.



The interior wall between our breakfast room and kitchen also came down, and between it - a bird's nest, with eggs.   Yes, see - this is exactly why we needed to update our kitchen before it goes on the market.



The children have adopted the eggs, accidentally cracked a few open, and have found the equivalent of fossilized raisins inside.



The one remaining egg, Elizabeth named "Crystal" and after she took it to school for "Show and Tell" has crafted a cotton ball chair / chariot that she pushes around the house.

Um...?



Last week, Carolyn's vision was checked and it turns out, she's near sighted.

In case you cannot tell from this photo, she was only a little excited to get her new glasses.



Meanwhile, her sister is extremely jealous, and is certain that Carolyn faked the test ... just like she faked a vision test a few years ago in an attempt to get glasses.  (The optometrist wasn't fooled.)



A few years ago, my mother suggested that Carolyn might have a problem with her adenoids, because she snores and breathes through her mouth.  I didn't think too much about it,  until I shared a hotel room with her during our recent road trip, and heard snoring from my 10-year old girl that rivaled her father.  So I googled, "Sleep Apnea" and was interested to read that it can be an underlying cause of attention deficit disorder.  When I returned home, I promptly took her to see her pediatrician - who referred us to an otolaryngologist (ear, nose and throat specialist) - who we visited, today.



Within minutes of being in his office, he'd scoped her nasal passages and it turns out, Carolyn's adenoids are huge and completely blocking her ability to breathe through her nose. Her tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy is now scheduled for next Thursday, April 30th.

Lesson learned: Mother's always do know best.  Especially when they've raised seven children, their first name is Mary, and they are retired from the nursing profession.

Because we have no kitchen, I took the children out to dinner tonight, and didn't notice until we arrived at the restaurant, the outfit that Henry was wearing. At one point in life, I would have been dismayed by thermal ski underwear tucked in to his father's dress socks, and who knows what else is going on here?  But I don't have the energy to be worried about things like this, anymore.

Is he safe?

Is he clothed?

That's good enough for me!



Charlie walked in, as I'm writing this, and informed me that the washer just officially broke and while the timing is fine - because we were planning to get a new one prior to the sale of the house; the timing really isn't "fine" because we have four loads to wash including the one saturated load currently in it.

The guinea pigs - who have been temporarily relocated to the laundry room while renovations are underway - were left out in the sun last week for a few minutes too long and almost died.  I nearly gave our little black guinea pig, Chocolate, mouth to mouth resuscitation to bring him back - but after a cool, two hour bath, and a hair cut - and injecting fluids in to his mouth by syringe, he recovered.   Now, just a week later, we think he has mange because all of his hair is suddenly falling out.

Let's see, what else is new? Well, over the weekend, my children innocently googled a picture of "kissing" and went down a rabbit hole of internet porn.  Thus began conversations I wasn't expecting to have with our ten-year-olds for at least another two or twelve years.  Also, we've implemented internet security measures even I cannot bypass.

My co-worker told me that my life is never dull; and I told him that situations usually comes in waves. Although lately it seems like the waves are more like tsunamis.

Like anything, it's all in your attitude.  So we're trying to look at what we're doing, and the next few months of change, as a FUN ADVENTURE.

Hang on y'all! 

kindness, courage ... and a little bit of magic

Today is my birthday ... which seems impossible that it's already here, again.  This has to be the fastest year in the history of my years.  Hopefully, this was a total anomaly, due to all the other things we have happening, and this next year won't go past quite so quickly.

When Charlie was commenting to me last week that he intends to get in to really good shape now that he's 47, I gently reminded him he's actually 48.  I'd thought he was kidding, until I saw the look of genuine surprise, and then shock on his face as he said, "Well.  I might need to see a doctor about this..."   

Today I woke up to happy children who were piling on top of me in bed.  They excitedly handed me wonderful presents that they had carefully selected from items they found around the house and lovingly wrapped.  Within my bounty of gifts was a lovely frame that I bought in 1998, and a pair of my exercise socks that look almost new.   It was a great start to what would be a perfect day (until just before bedtime when I realized that I lost my iPhone, who knows where?).

After a few hours in the office, I left work early and met Charlie and the children at the movie theatre for a 3:30 showing of Cinderella.  We went in to a completely empty cinema and watched during the previews, Elsa throw Anna a surprise birthday party (Henry incredulously asked, "Did you know Anna has the same birthday as you?!") before we all enjoyed what would be one of the best movies we've seen in a long time.  What made this movie so fantastic, aside from the acting and set design, costumes, and fact it was a Monday and we were in a theatre) was the underlining message of "Be Kind and Have Courage."  Those are the same principles we're trying so hard (read: so, so, so, so times infinity plus one) to impress upon our children.  Be Kind! Have Courage! 

Seems easy, right?  Until you try to teach your three 10-year olds to be kind to each other and their 7.5-year old brother, and you wind up taking very long walks because how can you model kind behavior when they make you lose your marbles and you threaten to send your little angels straight back to heaven?

OK, so I know people don't "make you" anything; but children really have a way of trying your patience in ways that cannot be succinctly described.

IF ONE MORE PERSON WHINES OR TATTLES SO HELP ME. 

What I want to remember the most about TODAY,  is my beloved husband and children (yes children, your mother really does adore you) - sitting with each other in a big empty theatre, watching a wonderful movie together, and thinking, "Kindness, Courage, and Magic.  This life really IS pure magic."  



And I'm enormously grateful.

git 'r done

Hello Blog!

Life is all aflutter these days as we've been preparing to put our Virginia home on the market and determine where precisely we'll be next.  A few weeks ago, we decided to pull the kids out of school for a few days, prior to their spring break, so the family could accompany me on a business trip to the great state of Texas and check things out.   If you follow the "minutiae of our daily life" via Twitter, you know that over the span of two weeks, we drove more than 3,000-miles, transversed 13 states (including what were 10 of the 11 Confederate States of America), crossed the Mississippi twice, and had an overall great time.

Because the children were out of school, during our daily drives, I read aloud 147 pages of our fourth graders' Social Studies book and ensured that our route included several historically relevant landmarks like Jamestown, Yorktown, Monticello, and the Cumberland Gap.  Pictures to follow soon!

It was a totally awesome trip, and my dream of homeschooling our clan for a year (or more), while traveling the country in an RV was ignited. Of course my enthusiasm put Charlie in a semi-state of panic that I'm going to suddenly resign from my profession and buy a camper (and National Park Pass), but he needn't worry. At least not THIS year.

Because we're getting our home ready for sale, we had our (never before finished) hardwood floors refinished during our trip...



And the preparation and aftermath of that activity has nearly paralyzed us. According to the children, it seems like our house is a snow globe that someone picked up and SHOOK. Everything from our upstairs was moved to our downstairs, where it still largely remains while we paint the house and update our baseboards ... and I'm certain the upcoming move will be far less painful.



Later this month, after Charlie finishes the second bathroom that he started in September;  we're redoing our third bathroom, and gutting our kitchen to the studs because we have a six-inch hole in the floor that needs to be repaired and if we're going to fix the floor, we might as well do the whole thing.  You know what they say about mice and cookies, right?



I've maintained that our kitchen has been like GLORIFIED camping, but according to multiple realtors, most people aren't too keen on glorified camping in their home kitchen.

It's a shame. 

We'd held off on doing these big ticket item upgrades because after watching our children run down the hall with crayons in their hands, marking up the walls as they went; we decided having money in our pocket was the best possible investment (for our dollars and our sanity).  But now, with the encouragement of several realtors who have convinced us that these improvements are well worth our effort, we're squeezing in to four weeks, what we might have done in four years. 

It makes sense to me.  

Then again, I did recently suffer a head injury.