Braggin' on My Kiddos

One of the "over the top" (in a good way) things about Texas is PRIDE.  Not just pride at being a Texan, but pride in anything worth being proud of.  And while everyone is proud of their kids, I've noticed that Texans have a few more ways to show it.  I'm sure this happens in other areas, but California is my only other experience and I didn't notice it to be as pervasive as it is here in Texas.  Things may have changed in the time that I have been gone - do y'all have a lot of this kind of stuff in YOUR area?

One way to show your pride is a yard sign...  doesn't matter if it's a sport, arts or academic team.  School-associated or private club.  The kids expect a yard sign announcing to all who pass by that they are part of something.

Then, there is the vehicle stickers.  I just keep adding to my back window as the stickers arrive.  Who knows how many I'll have on there after a few more years?

Like all parents, I'm proud of my kids and like to brag about them now and then.  Actually, that is one of the main purposes of this blog!  So, a couple of recent accomplishments from the end of the school year.....

Aidan lettered as a freshman.  Which presented a sort of unique opportunity, how do you order a letter jacket for a child that has only begun to grow?  Um yeah, it's a little big.  But if fits Ray perfectly, so we figure the sizing is pretty much spot on.

Bridget was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society.  She works really hard on her school work and gives every assignment and test 110% so she definitely deserves the honor!

Hopefully, my kids will continue to work hard, both at school and other activities.  Mostly, I want them to be proud of themselves.

Morning Survival

My kids are competitive swimmers.  And generally, once they reach a certain age, morning practices are an inevitability.

Aidan started doing them a couple of years ago and it was a big adjustment for both of us.  It took at least a month before 4:15am didn't feel completely brutal.

Middle schoolers have time to come home after practice, high schoolers do not, especially given the fact that we live so far out of town.  So, this year Aidan had to learn how to be ready for his entire day at 4:15.  Me too - it meant adding LUNCH to the morning routine.  And a second breakfast that could be eaten in the car.

Then, Bridget started doing morning practices, and that meant another breakfast, and another body to roust from the bed, and a second pool to get to by 5:00am.

Our general routine is that I get up at 4:15 and head upstairs to wake the kids.  Aidan wakes up pretty quickly, Bridget not so much.  Aidan knows immediately what he wants me to fix for first- and second-breakfast, Bridget not so much.  They are both guilty of rolling over and going back to sleep, which I don't have time for, and that makes Mama cranky.

We have from 4:15 - 4:40 to get up, dressed, pack one lunch, make 3 breakfasts, and get whatever they need for practice (water bottles, clean towels, shoes, equipment bag, etc.) and get out the door.  You can see why any deviation from The Schedule makes Mama cranky.

I start the breakfasts (could be cereal, toast, bagel, oatmeal, or egg sandwich), and then start texting the kids to see if they are up yet.

It is generally known that if I have to stop what I am doing, and head back up stairs and wake up sleeping children, that Mama gets Extra Cranky.

Sometimes, it doesn't go so well.  Like when Bridget decided to curl up in a ball on the dining room floor and cry herself back to sleep.

It's times like those that Mama has to take a deep breath and decide whether the right approach is cajoling, yelling, or letting everyone go back to bed.

One of my biggest saviors has been making breakfast sandwiches in advance and freezing them.  Yep, took me about 3 years to figure this one out, I am slow that way.

I brown a pound or so of deer sausage, and crack a dozen or so eggs.  Ray bought this cute little pan that is perfect for an egg & sausage patty.

I crank out a dozen or so of these patties, and also put an equal amount of english muffins under the broiler to toast.

I assemble them all with a slice of cheese and put them into a zip top baggie, suck out the air and freeze them.

About 1:10 in the microwave and it's a good start to their day.

I actually don't mind morning practices.  It makes the evenings less crazy, and we often are all home at a decent hour for dinner together, which I love.

#%$* Elf

Finally.  The last day I have to come up with a clever and unique hiding place for the #%$* Elf.  Finally.

Up at 5:45am, trudge upstairs to awaken the kids for Christmas Torture Training.  Bridget is so hard to wake up.  She growls and whines.  She begs and snaps.  Unpleasant.  Whoops, almost forget about the #%$* Elf, quickly shove him down the front of my robe before she comes fully awake and grumbling.

Back downstairs, where to put the #%^$* Elf this time.  Bridget's Christmas stocking is as good a place as any.  Must get him out of my robe, he seems extra scratchy this morning.

Maybe it's time.  Maybe I should insert a little note with the #$%* Elf, (but Bridget calls him Robin), from Santa, reminding Bridget that next year she will be thirTEEN (gulp), and the #$*^% Elf only visits children.  Maybe it's time.

Why is this #%&* Elf extra scratchy in my robe today?  Drag him out, and a bright orange sticky flutters to the floor.

In Bridget's neatest writing, I read:

Robin-

Thank you for these many beautiful days of friendship this December.  Although I may have an odd way of showing it, I really do love you.  And not just because you put in a good word with Santa; you are a truly great elf and I hate to see you go back to the North Pole for almost a year.  But I know you miss your friends, family & you have much work to do up there. But I really do hope we've been hospitable this early winter so that you don't feel uncomfortable in this "hot" Texas winter.

Again, thank you very much for your kindness, heart, and long-time-forever-lasting friendship.  I love you.

Bridget Glynn

Awwwww.....

Now, I know Bridget has the whole Santa Thang all figured out, but she chooses to play along, and enjoys the mystery and excitement.

So, no.  No, I won't tell Bridget she's "too old" for the $#^* Elf.  I won't force her to face grown up issues any sooner than she wants to face them.  If she chooses to immerse herself in the magic of the season, who am I to deny her?

I am going to jump right in there with her, and enjoy every moment.

Thank you, Bridget, for keeping the magic alive. 

Merry Christmas everyone.  Let's all take a lesson from Bridget today and embrace it all.  Be of good cheer.  Find your inner child, open your hearts.  Be merry.

Camping

It's been a while since we've gone camping.  Aidan goes pretty regularly with the Boy Scouts and Bridget has been bemoaning the fact that she never gets to go camping.

A few weeks ago, the Scouts were going to some place in Oklahoma called Beavers Bend.  Ray thought it would be a good idea if we piggy-backed on their trip.  The campgrounds don't take reservations, and by heading up mid-week, we'd be able to help the Scouts in securing some campsites.

The first chore of course was locating and dusting off all the old camping gear and inspecting it all to see what was still in good condition.  Apparently, somewhere along the line, we have divested ourselves of a stove, but other than that we were in pretty good shape.  Having a Very Large Car is a good thing, as we don't have to leave anything at home!

The drive up was interesting and pretty.  We went through lots of little towns, which is always intersting in Texas.  Small towns in Texas do City Hall really well...  beautiful and stately stone buildings, typically right on the town square.  Sadly, many of these towns and the surrounding Victorian-style homes were built with now-departed oil money, so what once may have been a charming and thriving town square, surrounded by lovely homes is now desolate and sad.  Shuttered businesses, peeling paint, yet the stone edifice of Town Hall still remains, seeming almost.... hopeful.

It's always fun to stop in some small town and try to find a cafe or diner where the "locals" go, and we had burgers on the way up in Paris, TX, and an amazing brunch on the way home in Mena, Arkansas.

Once we got to Hochatown, OK the quest for the Perfect Campsite began.  There are lots of sites right on Broken Bow lake, and then down below the dam plenty of river sites as well.  After inspecting everything, and evaluating tree cover, bathrooms, site sizes, etc. we selected a gorgeous site right on the river.



The water temperature was cool and lovely!  Being so near the water made the heat almost a non-issue (except at night when I was trying to sleep - then I missed the air conditioning!).  The river was wide, deep, and while there wasn't a strong current, it moved swiftly enough to keep it clear, clean and fresh.

Directly across from our campsite were some great slate rock formations.  Great for climbing on and.... jumping off!

Aidan did quite a bit of fishing and we had delicious fresh trout for dinner.  As part of his fishing merit badge, he was required to cook it.  Since we had plenty, he cooked two and delivered them to his Scoutmaster's site.  His preparation method couldn't be simpler or more delicious.....  wrap two trout in a foil pouch with salt, pepper, and about a half a stick of buttah.  Set them on a rock in the coals of a very hot fire, and in about 12 minutes the packet puffs up and the fish are done.  Delish!

One afternoon, Bridget and I went to the local stables and had a nice trail ride.  It was through a densely wooded area and we saw lots of deer.  And we were highly entertained by the very vocal woman behind me who hadn't been on a horse in over 50 years and used humor to disguise her nervousness.

We spent one morning on Broken Bow lake.  We hit the Redneck Yacht Club and rented a boat and spent a couple of hours tourturing each other on wakeboards and tubes.

In typical "Boy" fashion, Aidan wanted to catch a squirrel.  Using the tried and true "box, stick, and string" method, he created a trail of Cheerios and had several squirrels come investigate.

He was rewarded a couple of times by catching either one slow and stupid squirrel, or a couple of different ones.

There were a couple of places nearby to rent kayaks and canoes, and we did that a couple of times.  It's such a relaxing way to see the river!

The Boy Scouts also had kayaks and canoes, and after they had done the serious work of specific merit badge skills, they entertained us by playing games like "How Many Boys Can You Fit In A 2-Man Kayak" and other silly activities.

I think my camp cooking skills have grown a little rusty, but the family was forgiving.  Bridget invented The Perfect S'more by substituting soft chocolate chip cookies for graham crackers!

On the way home, we took a couple of hours to head in to southwest Arkansas and check out the Ouachita region.  Simply gorgeous, with peaks and valleys, beautiful forests, etc.  We'll definitely be back!

Hen down!

A while back, it was finally warm enough outside to move the chickens out of the corner in the garage by the hot water heaters and into the driveway for an afternoon of sunshine.

One thing I've learned about chickens so far is that when confronted with something new, they completely freak out.

They started squawking fluttering all over the place - trying to hide in the corners.  Since I speak chicken now, I could totally hear them saying "The light! The light! Stay away from the light!"

But then, the brave one, Queenie, left the seething mass of squawking feathers and tenatively stepped into the center of the box.

And then she keeled over and died.

"Hen down! We have a hen down!" I yelled.  Ray came over to investigate.  Queenie's body deflated and she spread out one of her wings as if to display all her grown-up feathers.

Ray and I were perplexed.  Queenie and Bossie both started alternating between this strange behavior and running back to the mosh pit where the rest of the girls were continuing to freak out about the glowing orb in the sky.

Eventually, the other chickens started keeling over on the floor, deflating, and spreading out their wings.

As usual, my photography skills were lacking and I didn't realize the camera was focusing on the wire and not the chicken playing possum, but you get the idea.

We figured they must be sunbathing.  A quick internet search confirmed that for us.  Apparently this is "normal" chicken behavior.

What is NOT "normal" chicken behavior is trembling and weak legs.  We really do have a hen down, sadly, and it's Baby Ducky.  It started a few days ago, so I've isolated this one from the rest of the flock.  It continues to eat and drink, and seems pretty pissed off to be missing the party in the crate next door, but this is the way it has to be until I reach some sort of conclusion about what is wrong with this chicken.

Many less-than-quick internet searches have revealed not much.  So, I figure one of three things will happen.  It will get better, it will die, or it will be wobbly all it's life.  We shall see.  Sadly, this is the one chicken that everybody gravitates to.  It could be the crazy feathers, or the diminuitive size (it's the only bantam in our flock).  Or maybe it's the "pluck" (ha!  get it?  chicken humor!) that this little runt exhibits.  I will keep you posted. 

Meanwhile, work has started in earnest on the coop so that we can move the girls out to their own apartment now that they are old enough.  Ray and I have been doing our research, talking to other chicken owners, touring local coops and cobbling together a basic plan.  Which, of course, changes frequently in the course of construction based on materials available, new ideas, and the odd mistake.  It IS just a chicken coop, after all.

But it is a literary chicken coop.  Even though the girls can't read, visitors will be able to ponder a short piece of poetry called Home to Roost, by the current Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan.  We just won't dwell on the fact that the poem is really a metaphor for one's mistakes clouding one's mind.  It's just about chickens!

Bridget has really gotten into the decorative aspects of the coop.  She asked Ray to make a couple of rooster-shaped cutouts from wood and she painted them.  They will adorn the doors where we gather the eggs.

It's coming along!  I will be excited when the girls make their big move.  And like that big, bright, orb in the sky - the changes are sure to freak them out.

Bridgie's Room

Once Bridget hit middle school, she decided that it wasn't exactly "cool" to have Barbie stuff strewn about one's room.

With needing to make space for her new desk, the time was right for a major overhaul for Bridget's room.

Fortunately, she has two closets.  The smaller one we put in lots of bins and shelves so she can now keep her toys out of sight, and the larger closet is dedicated to clothes.

We took all the artwork off the walls and then Bridget decided how she wanted her furniture arranged.  She wanted a lot of space in the middle of the room, her bed set up like a couch for lounging, and a reading area.  Since it's her room, I pretty much gave her free reign.  Once the furniture was all moved around, the posters and artwork went back up on the walls.

Bridget then photographed her room.  I just love her photographs, she's got an unusual way of looking at things.  I thought she'd eventually put these pictures up on her blog, but she hasn't been blogging much, so here they are.

Bridget's reading nook.  Looks comfy, I think I'll try it out!

Bridget made each of these items at different birthday parties.

She loves the lock and key on her new desk.

It seems like the quintessential "tween" room to me!

Okra

Something I've never had until moving to the south is okra.  Gardeners who grow it say it's one of the easiest things to grow around here.  Judging by the overflowing bushels of the stuff every week at Sandra's farm, I would guess that to be no lie!

The classic way to prepare okra is to deep fry it.  That's all well and good, but I searched for a healthier way to use it.  I tried roasting it in various iterations (with garlic, with cherry tomatoes....) and didn't really come up with a way to use it that my family would eat.

Until..... my neighbor shared a jar of pickled okra with me.  It's yummy!  And Bridget loves it!  Time to pickle my own okra, and teach Missy B in the process!

Into the bottom of each jar goes mustard seed, dill, crushed garlic, one fresh jalepeno and one dried red chili.

The pickling liquid is equal parts cider vinegar and water and a whole bunch of pickling salt.  Packing the okra in the jars was a bit of a challenge.  I don't like to use wide-mouth jars so that my canning rings are interchangeable amongst my smaller jelly jars.  But, by alternating big end and little end, and starting with the largest okra pods first, we got the jars stuffed tightly.

Ladle in the hot pickling liquid, and drop them in boiling water to process for 10 minutes and voila!  Pickles!  Bridget loves them in her lunch and I hope we've made enough to get through the winter.

You know it's coming, yet it still hurts when it happens

I wish I'd known.  I wish I'd known that last year's visit to the local pumpkin patch would yield the last photos of my two children, together, willingly posing by all the cute fall displays.


Apparently, once you hit thirteen, you are now "too cool" to have your picture taken at the pumpkin patch.  Even though, for some reason, it's still "OK" to go there - just not have your picture taken.  I think FaceBook is to blame.....  Even bribery and threats don't work.


Sigh.


Sob.


For a "tween," it's no problem.  You don't mind having your photo taken in the window of the Pumpkin House.

If you are thirteen, you run away around the corner and hide. 

If you are a tween, you happily pose next to the dried corn stalks.

If you are thirteen, you hide behind your mother and hope that she doesn't realize she can turn the camera around.

If you are a tween, you enjoy having your picture taken next to a giant pumpkin.

If you are thirteen, you run away.  Far, far away.

If you are a tween, you suggest an attractive pose for a close-up.

If you are thirteen, you lurk outside of the Pumpkin House, so you can still be close to the action, yet not consenting to provide actual photographic evidence that you were really there.

I can only try console myself with the fact that even though I am losing the milestones of childhood, I am gaining the milestones of adulthood that will present themselves in the coming years.  Homecoming, driver's license, and proms.  It's a bittersweet position, being at this nexus between childhood and adulthood.  Looking forward has always served me well in life's transitions and challenges.  But I still can't help looking back and feeling just a little bit sad.

Tween

Tween wants to experiment with makeup, but doesn't actually want to wear any out in public.

Tween won't give up the Barbies, but asked for a more discreet storage solution.


















Tween is old enough to babysit, but then begs to be taken to the toy store so she can buy a baby doll just like her favorite toddler has.

I love my tween!

Back to School

You'd think they were getting root canals the way they acted this morning when I brandished the camera.  But these milestones must be documented apparently.  We are now more than half way done with lower education.  Aidan started 8 years ago, Bridget has 7 more to go.

Bridget was just a bit nervous this morning and Aidan was all swagger and confidence.  I think back to when they each started kindergarten, and it was the opposite.  Bridget had had the run of the school for two years since I officed there, and she was all too ready.  Aidan, being first, wasn't so confident on his first day.  You can see it in his eyes.

 

But he survived and went on to be the "President" of the playground, apparently.  His self-appointed job was to hire and fire the kids he would play with.  He even had a training program for apprentice playmates.

Bridget has some good coping mechanisms for alleviating the stress though.  She laid out her outfit last night.  She set two alarms even though I was going to wake her up.  She packed and re-packed her backpack.  And she left me a note on the refrigerator with instructions as to exactly what was to go in her lunch.  Never forget:  with Bridget, it's all about the food.