Ever since I can remember, I have loved to dance. My first solid memory of dancing is very specific. I was a very small girl, only 3 or 4 years old. I was with my Grandma Edlyn at the Rainbow, yes a bar, but it was during the day. She would go there and talk with her friends, play pool, and drop quarters in the juke box for me. They served food and I remember eating cheeseburgers and french fries with her there. I think that is probably where I first started to love fountain Coca Cola. Coke is great out of those soda guns they have, the syrup rich and the carbonation just right. Anyway, it was a hot summer day in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It was too hot to play outside or sit in her house, so we went to the Rainbow for lunch and friends.
Grandma handed me a quarter and I walked over to the juke box on the other side of the room. It was dark and quiet. The place was pretty empty during the day. I reached up, on the tips of my toes and dropped the quarter in the slot. Magically the juke box came to life, bright colors and the whirring motor. I had to find the right buttons to push to play the songs I wanted. I could reach, just barely. There's the "A" button, all the way to the left, on the top row, and then go down to the numbers and count over, 1, 2, 3, 4. That's it A4. The rack of single records started to rotate, and the arm reached over and pulled it out. The needle hit the vinyl, and crackled to life. "Rain Drops Keep Falling on my Head" filled the silent air and I began to twirl and dance and sing along. "Just like the guy who's feet are too big for his bed, nothing seems to fit ..." I thought that line was really funny. I imagined Abraham Lincoln, in his top hat, trying to sleep in a twin bed.
I was alone in my little corner. Alone in the pure joy of music and air conditioning on a hot summer day. I was free - I was happy - I was completely unaware that there was a right way to dance or a correct way to sing. I was dancing and belting it out in complete oblivion. "Because I'm Free ... Nothin's worrying me".
I am sure that Grandma and her friends watched and listened, yet they did not say a word. I am grateful for that. The world of harsh criticism would come soon enough. In those moments I felt alive and free and full of wonder at the world. Music makes me happy.
My mother was always singing and dancing at home. I loved our home full of music. I loved my singing mommy. I remember asking her one day how she could make her voice sound just like all the people who sang on the radio. She laughed, and said, "I do?" I think she sings just like Karen Carpenter, only better.
On Saturday's we always watched American Bandstand with mom. Mom and Rik and I would dance with all the people on the show. They would play the top hits of the week, and sometimes there would be a live performance. It was so much fun. It was the heart of the 70's - Disco was the rage, and we could DO the hustle. I wasn't allowed to know that that meant, because it was not nice for children, but we could do the dance!
At slumber parties with my friends we would have dance competitions, ala Saturday Night Fever. One friend lived in a house with open stairs and landings on multiple levels. That was our favorite place to have these dance parties. It was almost like American Bandstand right there in Nancy's entry way.
We used to go to the skating rink as often as possible. That was almost like dancing. The music was loud and I could really skate. I had big pom poms on mine - white with blue tips, of course. I would skate everyday if I could. "I Like that Old Time Rock N Roll" I could roll and roll and roll. Just keep that music playing!
By the time high school rolled around we were all trying to learn to moon walk. Carol Cuellar could do it. She had this stretch of really smooth, painted concrete out in front of her house that was the perfect place to practice. If I could put on a pair of Keds I might be able to do it today! There were school dances and church dances. It was El Paso so there were Quincineras, and oh, the weddings! The wedding dances were the best! Live bands and records. "Where did you come from where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton Eyed Joe?"
I started taking real dance classes in 9th grade. I wanted to be a dancer. While I was dancing to Neal Diamond at the Rainbow, the girls who were really good had been in ballet and tap class. What I lacked in traditional training and skill, I made up for in enthusiasm. I was just happy to be there.
By my Junior year I was taking a couple of dance classes a day, was on the flag team and was an alternate on the school dance team, Orchesis. I went to every dance I could, and literally danced every day of my life, except maybe on Sundays, sometimes.
When we lived in Utah, Carl was part of a band. They practiced in our basement a couple nights a week. I LOVED that! I loved our house full of music. I would be up in the kitchen, making dinner, and singing and dancing away. Everyone was downstairs and the music was so loud that no one but the kids had any idea of what I was up to. I loved our happy music house! The live performances with the band were awesome! Now I love it when Carl and Ryker play. I am not a musician, I am a musician lover. I marvel at the ability to produce music. Music is magical, it can stir me deep inside like nothing else.
I have no grand delusion that I am or ever will be a serious, professional, dancer. But I am a dancer, as in one who dances. I love to dance, and I love the way music makes me feel, deep in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. Music makes me happy, music makes me want to move. When I am dancing, "nothin's worrying me, because I'm free".
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Frustration
My dogs have drug me into running with them. I really enjoy going for a good walk in the evening and watching the sunset. Chester and Charlie would rather run than walk, so I have started running with them. I like the adrenalin burn, and the idea of getting more of a work out. What I don't enjoy is the burning in my chest as a gasp for breath and the searing pain in my knees.
I was walking the dogs in my slippers - not the best idea. No wonder my knees hurt. After a trip to Sports Authority, where I spent more on a pair of running shoes than I have ever spent on any single pair of shoes, of any sort, I was set. The shoes make a huge difference. I would not have believed it, but it is true. If they looked better I would wear them all the time. They really are comfortable. They did not, however, make any difference what so ever in my lungs.
After Googling "breathing" I was totally confused. I couldn't even take a good breath while sitting in my chair. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't do it. I really couldn't do it when I was trying to run. It seems stupid to say that I couldn't breathe. How could I not breathe? I have been breathing since the day I was born haven't i? I talked to a friend that is an avid runner, and they helped me with a very simple method. So, now my lungs don't hurt and I can actually breathe effectively.
About 10 days ago I was out in my new shoes, with the dogs, and feeling full of confidence in my new breathing ability. What skill! Anyway, I decided to really sprint with the dogs - let them set the pace for the last several blocks toward home. I can not run as fast as my dogs. Even if Godzilla were chasing me, I could not run as fast as these 2 dogs. I did my best, but I screwed up my knees. They hurt like crazy by the next morning and were so stiff I had a hard time unfolding them to stand up. I felt like a broken barbie doll - snapped at the knees.
About this same time I started fighting a virus of some sort. I have been tired, but with sheer determination, I have conquered the day, and not been sick. In an effort to let my old bones heal, and conserve my energy for fighting off the virus, I have not been out running, or walking, with the dogs. I also started taking some Glucosamine Condroitn stuff for joints. I figure it can't hurt, and these old knees need all the help they can get. I am not sure how much cartiledge is even left in there.
Anyway, I have been a slug, sitting around the house and not getting any exercise or sun. Today I just couldn't take it anymore. I was so frustrated with this crazy spreadsheet I was fighting with that I wanted to scream. Instead of screaming, I went out with the dogs. It felt good, but it was hard. I can't believe that one week of sitting on my butt could get me that out of shape. Maybe I was more sick than I thought I was? I don't know, but it wore me out, big time. I ran some, but not too much, I stopped as soon as my knees started to hurt. I don't want to re-injure them. I don't want to give up. I really need the exercise and sun on a regular basis. It is so frustrating that my body doesn't do what I want it to.
I was walking the dogs in my slippers - not the best idea. No wonder my knees hurt. After a trip to Sports Authority, where I spent more on a pair of running shoes than I have ever spent on any single pair of shoes, of any sort, I was set. The shoes make a huge difference. I would not have believed it, but it is true. If they looked better I would wear them all the time. They really are comfortable. They did not, however, make any difference what so ever in my lungs.
After Googling "breathing" I was totally confused. I couldn't even take a good breath while sitting in my chair. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't do it. I really couldn't do it when I was trying to run. It seems stupid to say that I couldn't breathe. How could I not breathe? I have been breathing since the day I was born haven't i? I talked to a friend that is an avid runner, and they helped me with a very simple method. So, now my lungs don't hurt and I can actually breathe effectively.
About 10 days ago I was out in my new shoes, with the dogs, and feeling full of confidence in my new breathing ability. What skill! Anyway, I decided to really sprint with the dogs - let them set the pace for the last several blocks toward home. I can not run as fast as my dogs. Even if Godzilla were chasing me, I could not run as fast as these 2 dogs. I did my best, but I screwed up my knees. They hurt like crazy by the next morning and were so stiff I had a hard time unfolding them to stand up. I felt like a broken barbie doll - snapped at the knees.
About this same time I started fighting a virus of some sort. I have been tired, but with sheer determination, I have conquered the day, and not been sick. In an effort to let my old bones heal, and conserve my energy for fighting off the virus, I have not been out running, or walking, with the dogs. I also started taking some Glucosamine Condroitn stuff for joints. I figure it can't hurt, and these old knees need all the help they can get. I am not sure how much cartiledge is even left in there.
Anyway, I have been a slug, sitting around the house and not getting any exercise or sun. Today I just couldn't take it anymore. I was so frustrated with this crazy spreadsheet I was fighting with that I wanted to scream. Instead of screaming, I went out with the dogs. It felt good, but it was hard. I can't believe that one week of sitting on my butt could get me that out of shape. Maybe I was more sick than I thought I was? I don't know, but it wore me out, big time. I ran some, but not too much, I stopped as soon as my knees started to hurt. I don't want to re-injure them. I don't want to give up. I really need the exercise and sun on a regular basis. It is so frustrating that my body doesn't do what I want it to.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Hurricanes, Tropical Storms, and a Prissy Dog
For days now we have been tracking Felicia. Somewhere out in the Pacific it was a once a hurricane, and was once headed pretty much right for us. People get a little freaked out about hurricanes, but since they don't actually hit too often, the freak out is minor. Costco was a little busier than usual selling cases of water and the occasional generator. If there is a weather related emergency, our power is likely to go out. It doesn't really matter what form that emergency takes, the power just goes out. When we had the earth quake a couple years ago there was almost no damage to the island of Oahu, yet the power was out. In January the power went out when some lightening hit some transformer or something. Losing power is more than just losing your TV or your fridge. Unless you have an iphone, or a BB, you can even lose INTERNET!!! Oh no!
Actually, it is pretty crazy when the entire island is without power. For one, you can't fill your gas tank. The pumps don't work with out electricity. Even if the pumps did, how many people have enough cash on them to fill a tank? No electricity = no atm machines, or paying with your debit/credit card. It is warm here, so once the power goes you you don't want to open the freezer or the fridge. Hopefully the power comes back on before the entire contents go bad. So, if the power were to go out on a typical day for me, I would have about a 1/8th of a tank of gas, less than 10 bucks in my wallet, and a fridge full of food I can't eat. I usually have some drinking water and pantry food that would last a few days or so. In January I stocked up on flashlights, batteries and some candles. So, we are all good for drinking water and looking at stuff in the dark.
The cell phones would probably work, unless the storm takes out the satellite, then who knows. My GPS was having a very hard time today maintaining connection with the satellite. My theory is Felicia. Cell phone batteries don't last forever, especially if you are watching movies or playing games. The car charger will work, until you run out of gas ....
Felicia, now down graded to a tropical storm, was supposed to hit on Monday. Sunday, the class of 10 year olds I teach already had their day off school all planned. We don't get snow days here, we get hurricane, or storm, or flooding days instead. Same concept, different form of precipitation. We could start calling them precipitation days and then everyone would be able to use the same word, or maybe not ...
The air has been heavy, hot and sticky. If we had gills breathing might be easier. Light rain started Tuesday night. Following the normal bedtime routine Ryker takes Chester outside one last time before bed. He refused to go out. The crazy pooch does not like to get his precious little paw paws wet. So, he went to bed with a full bladder. At 6am, he came running for me to put him outside. About 5 feet from the door he noticed the rain and came to a screeching halt. Again, he refused to go outside. I put him on the leash and shoved him out the door. He promptly went back to sleep on the porch.
At 7:30am, as I am taking Q to school, we tried to get him to go out yet again. We drug him out, and he ran back. We forced him to the grass, and he ran as soon as we let go. Here's a good one for your fortune cookie - You can drag a dog outside, but you can't make him pee.
At 11am, Carl and Ryker leave for work and put him outside. It has now been more than 12 hours and he still has not peed. He has GOT to be uncomfortable! When I came home at 12:30pm he was still sitting on the porch and refusing to set foot on the wet grass. Chester is one stubborn, prissy dog!
When Quincie came home from school we came up with an idea to get that dog to relieve himself. He gets very excited about going on a walk, and the site of his leash usually brings him running. She put him on his walking leash and took him for a turn about the yard. He resisted going out, and going down the stairs, and had to be drug. With Q's typical calm patience and persistence, she got him down the drive way. She walked him past a tree, and he just couldn't help it, he had to and pee on it.
The air is wet. My glasses fogged right up when I got out of my air conditioned car. Carl's home inspection photos from today show fences and gates through a thick fog. Fog at 80 degrees is an odd phenomenon, not at all what I am used to. Pouring rain at 80 degrees is also a little odd. If you put on a rain jacket you just might steam yourself.
Somewhere around 8pm tonight the real rain started. The wind is mild, so I wouldn't call it much of a storm. All this rain is great for the yard. I shut off the sprinklers after getting an outrageous water bill a few months ago and it shows. The grass is dead, along with just about everything else. The native plants are still doing great, like the plumeria trees, and the jungle plants. The imports don't thrive here without some extra water. Bring on the rain - I'm tired of looking at a brown yard!
A friend told me you can buy rain shoes for your dog. I wonder if that would make a difference to Chester? Would he equate shoes on his feet with dryness and get over his rain phobia? That seems like an awful lot of reasoning for a dog. Who makes dog shoes anyway? And how do you size them? Do they tie or maybe they are velcro, strange ... Knowing him, he would just chew up the shoes, and still refuse to go out in the rain.
For any of you on the mainland who were wondering how were were doing out here in the middle of the Pacific, with a hurricane headed our way, there you have it. We are safe and sound, albeit slightly damp and a little irritated with the prissy dog.
Actually, it is pretty crazy when the entire island is without power. For one, you can't fill your gas tank. The pumps don't work with out electricity. Even if the pumps did, how many people have enough cash on them to fill a tank? No electricity = no atm machines, or paying with your debit/credit card. It is warm here, so once the power goes you you don't want to open the freezer or the fridge. Hopefully the power comes back on before the entire contents go bad. So, if the power were to go out on a typical day for me, I would have about a 1/8th of a tank of gas, less than 10 bucks in my wallet, and a fridge full of food I can't eat. I usually have some drinking water and pantry food that would last a few days or so. In January I stocked up on flashlights, batteries and some candles. So, we are all good for drinking water and looking at stuff in the dark.
The cell phones would probably work, unless the storm takes out the satellite, then who knows. My GPS was having a very hard time today maintaining connection with the satellite. My theory is Felicia. Cell phone batteries don't last forever, especially if you are watching movies or playing games. The car charger will work, until you run out of gas ....
Felicia, now down graded to a tropical storm, was supposed to hit on Monday. Sunday, the class of 10 year olds I teach already had their day off school all planned. We don't get snow days here, we get hurricane, or storm, or flooding days instead. Same concept, different form of precipitation. We could start calling them precipitation days and then everyone would be able to use the same word, or maybe not ...
The air has been heavy, hot and sticky. If we had gills breathing might be easier. Light rain started Tuesday night. Following the normal bedtime routine Ryker takes Chester outside one last time before bed. He refused to go out. The crazy pooch does not like to get his precious little paw paws wet. So, he went to bed with a full bladder. At 6am, he came running for me to put him outside. About 5 feet from the door he noticed the rain and came to a screeching halt. Again, he refused to go outside. I put him on the leash and shoved him out the door. He promptly went back to sleep on the porch.
At 7:30am, as I am taking Q to school, we tried to get him to go out yet again. We drug him out, and he ran back. We forced him to the grass, and he ran as soon as we let go. Here's a good one for your fortune cookie - You can drag a dog outside, but you can't make him pee.
At 11am, Carl and Ryker leave for work and put him outside. It has now been more than 12 hours and he still has not peed. He has GOT to be uncomfortable! When I came home at 12:30pm he was still sitting on the porch and refusing to set foot on the wet grass. Chester is one stubborn, prissy dog!
When Quincie came home from school we came up with an idea to get that dog to relieve himself. He gets very excited about going on a walk, and the site of his leash usually brings him running. She put him on his walking leash and took him for a turn about the yard. He resisted going out, and going down the stairs, and had to be drug. With Q's typical calm patience and persistence, she got him down the drive way. She walked him past a tree, and he just couldn't help it, he had to and pee on it.
The air is wet. My glasses fogged right up when I got out of my air conditioned car. Carl's home inspection photos from today show fences and gates through a thick fog. Fog at 80 degrees is an odd phenomenon, not at all what I am used to. Pouring rain at 80 degrees is also a little odd. If you put on a rain jacket you just might steam yourself.
Somewhere around 8pm tonight the real rain started. The wind is mild, so I wouldn't call it much of a storm. All this rain is great for the yard. I shut off the sprinklers after getting an outrageous water bill a few months ago and it shows. The grass is dead, along with just about everything else. The native plants are still doing great, like the plumeria trees, and the jungle plants. The imports don't thrive here without some extra water. Bring on the rain - I'm tired of looking at a brown yard!
A friend told me you can buy rain shoes for your dog. I wonder if that would make a difference to Chester? Would he equate shoes on his feet with dryness and get over his rain phobia? That seems like an awful lot of reasoning for a dog. Who makes dog shoes anyway? And how do you size them? Do they tie or maybe they are velcro, strange ... Knowing him, he would just chew up the shoes, and still refuse to go out in the rain.
For any of you on the mainland who were wondering how were were doing out here in the middle of the Pacific, with a hurricane headed our way, there you have it. We are safe and sound, albeit slightly damp and a little irritated with the prissy dog.
Friday, August 7, 2009
An Exciting Evening Out
Tonight the kids went to a church dance. Carl and I were home alone, so we decided to go to Best Buy and maybe get something to eat. We were going to Best Buy to replace a broken DVD player. The one we have had for the last year or so, quit working. It was a cheap model, but did the trick. We replaced it with basically the same model, just slightly updated. It's crazy to think that it cost more to fill my gas tank than it did to replace the DVD player. We truly live in the day of disposable electronics.
We left Best Buy and were driving down Kam Highway. It isn't really a highway in the mainland sense of the word. Especially in Aiea, it is a busy city street, 3 lanes wide in each direction, full of stop lights and bus stops. The speed limit can't be more than 35. Anyway, I am driving along, having a conversation with my husband, when WHAM! the car behind me rams into the back of my car! Our bodies fly forward into our seat belts with a jolt. Needless to say, I am stunned. So bizarre - I have no experience with anything even remotely like this. Carl starts yelling at me to stop. I can't see how stopping in the middle of all that traffic could possibly be a good thing. It just didn't seem safe to me. I didn't want to get hit again. I signaled, and started moving over to the far right lane. There is no shoulder on this stretch of road, so I didn't like the idea of stopping there either, but Carl keeps insisting that I stop, so I did.
While I fumble to find the hazzard lights, he jumps out of the car, and goes back to talk to the car that is stopped behind us. They think he is crazy, asking them if they are ok. It is NOT the car that hit us, just some car that was traveling in the right lane when I stopped and blocked their way. I doubt they even saw what happened to us moments before. He jumps back in the car, and I proceed to drive on to our next stop, that is just around the corner. The guilty party is nowhere in site. It's dark and traffic is heavy, neither of us saw the other vehicle clearly at all. I think it was some sort of van or truck, but I don't really know. It was dark, and my view in the rear mirror is cut in half by the spoiler on the back of my car. (I hate that fin even more now - Dang fin!.)
When we got out and looked at the car it seemed fine, other than some stress cracks in the surface of the plastic bumper. My back feels a little jarred, and my right knee hurts. I am not sure if it still hurts from my run the other day, or if it has anything to do with the jolt from behind slamming it into the gas pedal. Should I have stopped right there, in the middle of all that traffic and tried to flag down the jerk? Should I have called the police? What would be the point of calling the police? What would I say? - "Hello, Officer, I would like to report an accident. Some vehicle hit me from the rear. No, I do not know what type of vehicle. No, I do not have a license plate. No, I do not know what color it was. No, there isn't any significant damage to my car. No, I am not injured and in need of an ambulance. Why did I call? Well, I guess I just thought you would like to know that there is some unidentified jerk out here that rammed my car and drove away."
So, we drove on, bought some dog toys and some candy, had dinner, and came home. So much for our exciting Friday night out!
We left Best Buy and were driving down Kam Highway. It isn't really a highway in the mainland sense of the word. Especially in Aiea, it is a busy city street, 3 lanes wide in each direction, full of stop lights and bus stops. The speed limit can't be more than 35. Anyway, I am driving along, having a conversation with my husband, when WHAM! the car behind me rams into the back of my car! Our bodies fly forward into our seat belts with a jolt. Needless to say, I am stunned. So bizarre - I have no experience with anything even remotely like this. Carl starts yelling at me to stop. I can't see how stopping in the middle of all that traffic could possibly be a good thing. It just didn't seem safe to me. I didn't want to get hit again. I signaled, and started moving over to the far right lane. There is no shoulder on this stretch of road, so I didn't like the idea of stopping there either, but Carl keeps insisting that I stop, so I did.
While I fumble to find the hazzard lights, he jumps out of the car, and goes back to talk to the car that is stopped behind us. They think he is crazy, asking them if they are ok. It is NOT the car that hit us, just some car that was traveling in the right lane when I stopped and blocked their way. I doubt they even saw what happened to us moments before. He jumps back in the car, and I proceed to drive on to our next stop, that is just around the corner. The guilty party is nowhere in site. It's dark and traffic is heavy, neither of us saw the other vehicle clearly at all. I think it was some sort of van or truck, but I don't really know. It was dark, and my view in the rear mirror is cut in half by the spoiler on the back of my car. (I hate that fin even more now - Dang fin!.)
When we got out and looked at the car it seemed fine, other than some stress cracks in the surface of the plastic bumper. My back feels a little jarred, and my right knee hurts. I am not sure if it still hurts from my run the other day, or if it has anything to do with the jolt from behind slamming it into the gas pedal. Should I have stopped right there, in the middle of all that traffic and tried to flag down the jerk? Should I have called the police? What would be the point of calling the police? What would I say? - "Hello, Officer, I would like to report an accident. Some vehicle hit me from the rear. No, I do not know what type of vehicle. No, I do not have a license plate. No, I do not know what color it was. No, there isn't any significant damage to my car. No, I am not injured and in need of an ambulance. Why did I call? Well, I guess I just thought you would like to know that there is some unidentified jerk out here that rammed my car and drove away."
So, we drove on, bought some dog toys and some candy, had dinner, and came home. So much for our exciting Friday night out!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
In a Heartbeat
Yesterday Ryker turned 18 and I am in a contemplative mood. I'm thinking about all kinds of things, some happy, some sad, the past, and the future yet to unfold. I start to write about how I feel, and then I erase it, because it seems dumb, trivial, and trite. Kids grow up, kids go to college, kids move away, and that is the way of it. Why should my feelings on the subject be anything noteworthy? How is my experience any more or any less than any other mother's?
At some moments I feel so full of joy and great wonder at how my baby boy grew into this amazing, capable young man. In other moments I feel such loss and despair. Like I am mourning the end of an era, the end of being the mother of children. I will always be a mother, but not the mother of children. Right now I am the mother of teenagers. Far too soon I will be the mother of adults. I don't know what to think of that and I certainly don't know how to do that.
I still have Quincie for a couple more years. That helps, for now. I don't even want to think about 2 years from now. Today and next week are quite enough thank you. She started school today. She is 16 and a Junior. I remember being 16 and a Junior. Was it really that long ago? The fashion is looking pretty similar. The skinny jeans, (we called them straight leg) the bright neon colors, and Converse - If only I had saved them!
Quincie wears my clothes, and sometimes, I wear hers. Shoes, we always share. Sometimes I watch her sleep and the same feelings of awe and love overwhelm me as they did that first night when she slept next to me in the hospital bed. She is my sweet, little, blue-eyed, angel baby.
A friend asked me the other day if my kids were always this good. I said, "No, they were horrid babies." They were cute and wonderful, and really, really horrid. Ryker had colic, in the extreme. He ate at least every 2 hours and threw up constantly. He was always hungry, and always needed attention. He grew fast, and was mobile really early. He walked at 10 months. We put a lock on the fridge. He liked to help himself to the jug of milk. He broke those baby proofing cabinet locks, and got into everything. He had no fear, and was intensely curious. He loved people and would eat just about anything. He was happy most of the time, but you had to watch him constantly.
Quincie was different. She just cried... and cried... for no apparent reason... for days. She wanted no one but me, and would have rather starved than drink from a bottle. Her nick name was Fussalina. We held family prayers begging God to make her stop crying. I worked with her on my lap a lot that first year. She was in no hurry to walk and I never baby proofed the house for her. She was content to sit next to me and watch Ryker run around and do crazy things to entertain her.
It was hard to get much done with Fussalina and Destructo Boy, but somehow we managed. Carl worked nights and I worked days, and neither of us slept much. Those days went by so quickly and every year, the kids got easier and easier.
The two of them have always been great friends. They have never had a physical fight, not so much as a push or a hit. The craziest trouble has always been a team effort. Whereever they went, he has always looked out for her. This year is the first year he won't be on campus with her. It makes me a little nervous. I like them together, especially when they are not with me. I can't remember the last time either of them got in trouble and had to be punished. It's been a long, long time. They are awesome kids and I am a lucky mom!
There were so many good times, so many funny things, and so much love. I really like being the mom of Ryker and Quincie. They are super awesome kids. If I could go back and do it all again, I would. I wouldn't want to change a thing, except to enjoy each moment more. The good, the bad, the crazy, the hard, the fun, the silly, the messy and the painful. I would do it all again. In a heartbeat.
At some moments I feel so full of joy and great wonder at how my baby boy grew into this amazing, capable young man. In other moments I feel such loss and despair. Like I am mourning the end of an era, the end of being the mother of children. I will always be a mother, but not the mother of children. Right now I am the mother of teenagers. Far too soon I will be the mother of adults. I don't know what to think of that and I certainly don't know how to do that.
I still have Quincie for a couple more years. That helps, for now. I don't even want to think about 2 years from now. Today and next week are quite enough thank you. She started school today. She is 16 and a Junior. I remember being 16 and a Junior. Was it really that long ago? The fashion is looking pretty similar. The skinny jeans, (we called them straight leg) the bright neon colors, and Converse - If only I had saved them!
Quincie wears my clothes, and sometimes, I wear hers. Shoes, we always share. Sometimes I watch her sleep and the same feelings of awe and love overwhelm me as they did that first night when she slept next to me in the hospital bed. She is my sweet, little, blue-eyed, angel baby.
A friend asked me the other day if my kids were always this good. I said, "No, they were horrid babies." They were cute and wonderful, and really, really horrid. Ryker had colic, in the extreme. He ate at least every 2 hours and threw up constantly. He was always hungry, and always needed attention. He grew fast, and was mobile really early. He walked at 10 months. We put a lock on the fridge. He liked to help himself to the jug of milk. He broke those baby proofing cabinet locks, and got into everything. He had no fear, and was intensely curious. He loved people and would eat just about anything. He was happy most of the time, but you had to watch him constantly.
Quincie was different. She just cried... and cried... for no apparent reason... for days. She wanted no one but me, and would have rather starved than drink from a bottle. Her nick name was Fussalina. We held family prayers begging God to make her stop crying. I worked with her on my lap a lot that first year. She was in no hurry to walk and I never baby proofed the house for her. She was content to sit next to me and watch Ryker run around and do crazy things to entertain her.
It was hard to get much done with Fussalina and Destructo Boy, but somehow we managed. Carl worked nights and I worked days, and neither of us slept much. Those days went by so quickly and every year, the kids got easier and easier.
The two of them have always been great friends. They have never had a physical fight, not so much as a push or a hit. The craziest trouble has always been a team effort. Whereever they went, he has always looked out for her. This year is the first year he won't be on campus with her. It makes me a little nervous. I like them together, especially when they are not with me. I can't remember the last time either of them got in trouble and had to be punished. It's been a long, long time. They are awesome kids and I am a lucky mom!
There were so many good times, so many funny things, and so much love. I really like being the mom of Ryker and Quincie. They are super awesome kids. If I could go back and do it all again, I would. I wouldn't want to change a thing, except to enjoy each moment more. The good, the bad, the crazy, the hard, the fun, the silly, the messy and the painful. I would do it all again. In a heartbeat.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Eagle Project
Ryker's Eagle Project was Saturday morning. We all met at the Boy's and Girl's Club in Ewa Beach, loaded up the trucks, and headed over to the bridges at Kapolei Parkway and Renton Road. We picked up trash, raked up branches, leaves and dead grass, and painted over the graphiti on the bridges and surrounding walls. When we were done it looked great!
Before:
During:
After:
The Crew:
Before:
During:
After:
The Crew:
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