Grandkids in November

Since Zane has gone to school, (Pre-K), Barry, who is a "one word man" at the moment and gets the message across very well, actually, copies Zane in nearly everything he does.  

At our house the other day, Zane was lining up toy trees so Barry wanted to also.  Of course, that causes some difficulties since Zane isn't the best at sharing, but after a division of trees Barry lined his up and begins to count, "one, four, fifteen...". He knows now that you use those words when you line things up and point.  He knows when people ask, "what color is this?", you use other words, like blue or green.  He knows these other shapes, where Zane says, "ABCEFG...", that he should say, "ABC, ABC, ABC,". 

The things a second child learns, and so soon!

Barry at just two is at the toddler stage.  It's so cute to watch this age grow and learn, to get command over themselves and the language.  Of course, that command come with so much, "no", "me do it", and "me too", that needs guided into proper channels all the while the parent or grandparent goes berserk listening to the constant willful demands.

Zane is loving school, one of four in his class.  He gets breakfast and lunch, has learned to say and recognize his letters and numbers.  He has learned a myriad of action songs and loves to perform.  

I love these boys.  They are a trial sometimes, being too active and too smart for their own good. 

We can't forget Christian who at 5 months is hitching himself along with elbows and toes.  He's a fast traveler, albeit unconventional, getting where he wants to go, either right over the other boys' toys to get what he wants.  Then if he can hold it, it goes right into his mouth.  

Barry with Croca-dilly

Papa and the boys.

Zane at his Veteran's Day program convulsed the audience by speaking into the microphone as he walked by. Everyone else who took part in the program behaved conventionally.   

Old Stories

I visited an old lady in the nursing home today.  She is 94 years old and didn't want to end up there, but she needs to heal, and there is no one to look after her at home.  She was good to me when I was in college, so I went to see her.

She is very deaf, so the best thing to do is get her to do the talking.  I know enough about her life to know questions to ask.

So, she talked.  She told me about her early days of marriage when her husband was in the service. She told me about her first job, a quarter a night for staying with an old neighbor lady, and bringing that quarter home to her folks.  She told about what living was like as a child with 10 kids at home and when her mother died and the youngest was 9.  She told me when her father changed jobs from a mechanic that worked until late at night to painting at the hospital, that her two oldest brothers worked out for farmers early, of losing their house in the country and finding friends that had a place in town for them.

She told about learning to play on an old pump organ, (she never had lessons), about dressing chickens, about the hard couple of days of canning beef after butchering, how her mother wanted 300 quarts of tomatoes in the cellar.

She remembered how one of her brothers liked flowers from a tot, and ran a florist shop all his days.

She loved to visit one grandma more than the other because one was "clean", and the other full of fun.  She was happy when they got their Maytag, and happier when they got a two-tub model.  It was nice not to wash with a board.  She remembered a long full day's washing with 6 beds, and always someone in diapers.

She remembered those early days when they went to meetings in the schoolhouse and found something more important than anything else, even though sometimes it meant a 4 mile walk one way on Sundays.

She laughed, I laughed.  She told me she's had a good life.

When she started to tell the same stories again, it was time to go.  It was an hour well spent.  Those days so long ago are gone, the children of this day can't understand them.  I feel a bridge between, remembering fresh chickens for dinner and the old wringer washer my grandma used when I was a child.

When asked how she likes it there, she says, "I haven't been here long enough."

What is next in her story?  Who knows? But she is making the best of it at the moment.  A good lesson for all of us to learn.

October Hair

Here it is again, time for the hair of the month.  I decided to comb my bangs down over my forehead so I could see how long they were getting.  It really makes my little old lady hair, don't you think?

Too bad I didn't think about wearing something classier than my jammies and robe.  

You know, if you remember to keep your chin up when someone takes your picture, the wrinkles on your neck don't look so bad.  

My Husband is Nuts...

...about tractors,

old tractors,

to be exact, old John Deere tractors.

Especially this one, which is like the first brand new tractor his father bought.

Sadly, his wife is rather nuts, too.  She likes them as well, and didn't have any fits when he bought it without telling her. 

We were in luck, the price was right.  

So, here it is.  It needs work, but that will come. 

Not this year, maybe not even next year. 

But, sometime, it will be bright green again.

September Hair

This is what I look like when I'm not ready for a picture.  

It also is what I look like when I haven't combed my hair.

It is also what I look like when I go visit a person in a burn center.  That was a new experience for me.   A new friend of ours was badly burned with hot water when he was working and is now recovering in the hospital.    

I feel the urge to write again.  I am enjoying these lovely blue and gold days of fall.  I am sorry that my deck plants have completely died after being gone four special days.  I have no idea how to keep them alive.  They have to be watered twice a day in the heat of summer.  I lined those coconut shell liners with plastic bags, no luck.  

I tried diapers over the plastic bags, still no luck.  I think if I had some half moon plastic liners that fit right in, it would help, but I can't find any.  

I'm about ready to clean the deck up and take the geraniums in that managed to survive.  

I'm just no good at plants that need to be watered on a schedule.  I just don't do schedules well at all.  My mini garden died, out on the deck. Half of my mini succulent garden died, in the house. My favorite plant is the eternity plant I got for my birthday this year.  It thrives on neglect.  Sigh.  The only reason my flower garden lives is because it is on automatic sprinklers. 

I made a pumpkin pie yesterday.  I put yogurt in instead of the milk.  Not an acceptable substitute if you like Libby's recipe.  I remember now I had other plans for the yogurt.  My sister in law makes her own yogurt, and then makes her own ranch dressing with it and a packet of mix.  I though I would try it with store bought.  I imagine if you had your own mix of herbs and spices you could do it without the package.  

Now I need more yogurt.  

Sometimes less is more...

have a good day. 

The Tuesday Muse

A week later...

My title idea is somewhat borrowed from a fellow blogger, but it fits what I feel like today.  I don't have any great message or photos, but I feel like writing.  

I have had the privilege of some very special days that I haven't had for over a year.  They are a reminder of all I hold dear and inspire in me a desire to do a better job of living.  

However, it also wore me out.  I see that I can go on with stimulation and food for several days, but home again, it was like walking around in a fog.  I went to bed early, as a resting place for mind as well as body, the two days I've been home.  I've also done very little around the house.  Unpacking and laundry are being done a very little at a time.  Office work, 15 minutes at a time.  I have piles of both waiting for me as I get rested up.  

I nap in the afternoons.  

I am trying to get the more important things out of the way first.  

At the end of last year, I made the debatable choice to be the treasurer of the theater booster club since no one was taking the job and I thought I could handle it.  I can handle it, but I am wondering about the responsibility of handling the money.  And of dealing with the politics involved.  Actually, there is going to be no dealing of that with me, I'm going to keep my mouth shut.  

Of course, since I started this post last week, and more exciting life has intervened during that time, I can't remember what I had to say.  Probably nothing that amounted to very much.  

I just really wanted to show these pictures of the snake.

I don't know what the deal is with these snakes.  The last one I saw was hanging out in the grape vine.  This one is hanging out by the mailbox, so when I get the mail.

!!!!

See his little head sticking out?

I had a moment with an entirely insane thought of poking him to see if his head would go into a better position.  I don't really mind snakes, I just don't like to find them under my feet. 

I was making homemade pancake syrup the other day, having washed and prepared jars and lids and filled them.  It wasn't until I tried to put a lid on THIS jar and it didn't fit that I realized it didn't have threads.  WHAT KIND OF A JAR IS THIS!

It looks just like half of my jelly jars.  I have no idea where it came from.  It looks just like a jar,  having a lip, under where the threads would be.  

Is it a vase?  Did flowers come in it during my treatment?  Did it ever have some kind of lid and come with food in it?  I have no idea, no memory of ever seeing this before.  It seems too nice to get rid of, so I put it in the cupboard.  It is now a glass.

Freshly canned homemade pancake syrup.

And what post of ordinary days would be complete without of photo of two young Bronco fans.  Not that I care anything about the Broncos, but their folks do.  I just love this.  

Big brother and little brother.  

A Happy Boy

A little boy spent his time at my house today.

A happy, smiling, talking boy.  

He bounces in his seat, he rolls on the floor, he grabs rings, he chews his socks (on his feet).

He is a a lot happier here than he would be at the zoo with the rest of the family.  He'll enjoy the zoo more another year.   

This is what we did today.

Smiled.

Chewed on toes.

Helped with Laundry.

Grabbed Rings.

Took a nap.

Found a new toy.

Took another nap, this time in Papa Tom's crib.

Rolled back to tummy.

Helped fold clothes.

I know at almost four months he doesn't have a lot of control, but it was nice to see him roll over and grab for toys.  Everything he can get goes into his mouth.  He spends a lot of time just kicking around. He doesn't cry much either, only when he's wet, tired or hungry.  

He's the smiliest baby I know.

And I love him.

Today I Am Tired

But not too badly.  I had some tea mid-afternoon to make sure I stayed awake.  

It was a beautiful day. I went to look after my grandsons at their house since Zane is now in Pre-K while my daughter had another class day.  I hoped we could have a decent day with a minimum amount of mess while carrying Christian around.  

And we did.  

I wish I could have taken more pictures.  But I didn't.  I didn't have enough hands.  Especially, when the perfect picture opportunity was at hand, I was carrying a baby, a water bottle, a child's hand, and no camera.  The camera was at the house.  

I wrote a little piece several years ago when my children were little and I didn't have a camera to hand one summer.  I wrote of all the things they did that I didn't have pictures so I would have a memory anyway.

  Today was like that.

It was a perfect fall day.  The sun was shining, the air was soft, there was no breeze.  We walked down to the mailbox, I suppose a quarter-mile, Zane pulling Barry in a plastic sled over the somewhat asphalt, mostly gravel lane leading down to the highway.  We meandered, we looked at rocks, at sunflowers, at golden rod. The boys ran. Is there anything more heart warming than to look down the lane, to see golden heads enjoying the day, their little legs carrying them along. For them life is happy, there are no worries, they are just enjoying being out, being able to run, knowing Gramma is watching.  

Coming back up that quarter-mile was pretty exhausting.  Especially since it was the second time we were over that road in three hours.  My arms were tired, but as we could see the house, Barry says, "hand", and we walked up the hill together.  

Barry alone with me (Christian doesn't ask for the same kind of attention), made sure I noticed him.  He wanted to play a game, told me to "sit", taps my head with an "uck", and then says, "oosh", realizing we were playing duck, duck, goose, I grabbed him, he was satisfied and the game was over. (He's a one word man).  He also stuffed his favorite "croc-a-dilly" into Zane's backpack and wanted me to zip it up, which I willingly did.  After a bit, he came to me with the backpack asking for a kiss, which I gave him, and he was ready to go 'side, to go to school.  I told him to go into another room and pretend, and that game was over soon, too.  What a cutie.  

Zane and Christian.

August Hair

I've discovered some things about my hair.  Maybe these things are true about everybody's hair.  I just know that BC, my hair was very easy to deal with.  I just tossed it up into a french roll, and if it got messy or fell down, I could just do it again wherever I was.  I was happy with it.

NOW...

the stuff is not the same on both sides of my head.  One side is definitely thinner, and it shows. And it slumps. One side curls very nicely, and if you look at that side it looks like I have very nicely behaving hair. 

It isn't so bad to deal with, really, and I can wet it and mousse it and fluff it up a bit, and call it good.  I do like to make sure the front is waving nicely, the way I want it, because it will wave not too nicely, the way I do not want it, if I don't.  

The strange thing is that now I see my mother in the mirror, because her hair waves this way.  Mine didn't used to.  

On the sinus front.  I still deal with mucus issues, and I have a feeling I may be dealing with them for the rest of my life.  However, since a year ago, I was just out of the hospital after a week's ordeal, it's not so bad. I just went back to read some of those posts, posted by someone else other than me.  Someone who was watching me struggle with pain and mucus and mouth sores.  Ugh. 

It hurts to think about those days, but it's nice to think about those who were standing by, helping me when I couldn't help myself.  

On the eating front.  I ate a hamburger last night,  ON A BUN!!  Actually, it was only half a bun, and a homemade one, and that "tastes" better.  I didn't really enjoy getting the last half down, but  stuck to it.  I need the nutrition.  I mean, eating real food is really boring. Usually, it is soup, soup, soup. (I like my soup, I make it myself.)  If it isn't pretty wet to begin with I have to drink to make sure it is.  Then it needs chewed and chewed and chewed.  I don't have the saliva to help with the breaking down process.  I enjoyed the sensation of eating it, but hamburger is rough, and it was hard on the inside of my mouth, which is still pretty tender, since I AM going to eat things at times that hurt it and when I get tired it is sore, too.    

I'm really not healed up on the inside.  I enjoyed (I'm not sure that is really the word I want) looking over the August 2012 posts.  The encouragement, the struggle, the people, the comments, the fact that it's OVER--that's the best part.

P.S. On another front, I am not losing weight anymore, and I may have gained a little and I still don't taste sweet things.  

Random Baby and Kid Photos

I am a Gramma.  These photos prove it. 

They also show who is the newest kid on the block.

It also means I'm too tired to blog.  

Enjoy!

New baby Christian.

Christian 3 mos.

First haircut at 18 mos.

Lunch at Gramma's.

Uncle Tim's famous tie dye onesie.

Look at that boy lift himself up!