My Grandma Used to Say

There is a picture book titled My Grandma Used to Say which I have read with the kids. I can’t say that either of my grandmothers said any of the things that are in that book. However, some days I am reminded of the things my grandma used to say. Mostly by Grandma Ogilvie. I can’t remember my Grandma Sturm having very many sayings. Probably because she was Polish…which means she took everything literally…which means idioms had little meaning to her. 

Like most mothers of young children, I find myself repeating exactly what my mother said to me growing up. But sometimes I find myself repeating things Grandma Ogilvie used to say – things I had long forgotten but suddenly come back to me.

For example:

Goozle: I believe this is a Southern body part. Something akin to the phrase “yonder”. It doesn’t really exist. Unless you’re Southern. Then you always know exactly where “yonder” is. (Which once stunned a Yankee friend who asked my mom who was forever saying to us when we asked about a misplaced object “It’s in yonder,” and off we would dash to get it: “How do your kids know where yonder is?”) A “goozle” is somewhere between the stomach and chest areas. It is a phrase I use (like Grandma Ogilvie and my mom before me) whenever I am putting Emry’s tights on and pulling them up as high as I can. She giggles every time.

Put a rock on your head: I had completely forgotten about this one until Emry woke up one morning about a year ago and seemed to have grown overnight. I remarked about this, told her she needed to stop growing, and then said I would put a rock on her head to be sure she did stop growing. She looked very confused, so I told her it was something my grandma use to say to me when I grew too much and she wanted me to stop. Now whenever I use this phrase, she grins and responds, “Did your grandma used to say that to you, Mama?”

Last week we were at the park and Emry was swinging on some bars. It had only been a week since she was swinging on those same bars, but now she seemed to reach them much easier. I remarked at how long she could stretch and she replied, “I’m long like a green bean.” The phrase struck me as sounding like one Grandma Ogilvie would have used, especially as Southerners are always comparing things to fruits, vegetables, farm animals, or flowers. But I didn’t recall it. I asked her where she had heard that phrase – had Grandma (my mom) used it? She shook her head and dashed off to something else. To this day, I’m not sure where she got that phrase. However, I am quite pleased she used it. Her Southern blood is showing. And making me proud.

New Experiences...with a Boy!

It seems like just two weekends ago potty training has finally clicked! I have been potty training Ethan for the past several months with moments of success followed by more moments of utter defeat. Sometimes I wonder if I make this attempt too early in my kids livea, but I honestly just get tired of diapers…followed by getting exhausted with what seems like never-ending days of accidents and wet underwear. Thus far, potty training is my least favorite part of mothering. (And, I suppose, if that’s the only challenge I ever have in motherhood I am doing very well!)

Potty training a boy has been different than a girl. As if I was not already aware of that, Ethan proved it tenfold last Sunday. Lately, he’s wanted to go to the church service with us which is fine unless Ed is on security duty because I simply cannot handle them both on my own. But as this was not one of those Sundays, we took him. About one song away from the sermon, he said he needed to go potty. Since I hadn’t taken him before the service, I believed him and Ed offered to take him. So, off they went and he did go. 

The service continued, Emry happily coloring while I all but stood on my head trying to keep my wiggly son quiet and entertained. Just as the sermon was coming to an end, he told me he needed to go potty again. This is where the psychology behind potty training gets tricky. They have you over a barrel and you are reminded that they hold a lot of power during this period of their small lives if they’re smart enough to figure it out. Essentially, you can’t tell them no. So, not really sure he was telling me the truth, I picked him up and off we went to the women’s restroom.

He marches in, looking around, and states, “Mama, I want the heart potty.”

“Heart potty?” I echo, no clue as to what he is talking about. I open a stall. “Here, Ethan. Come in here.”

He comes, but he repeats, “Mama, I want the heart potty.”

I’m still not sure what he’s talking about, but the one advantage I do have in this portion of my parenting is that he’s tiny and I’m big so I can pull down his pants and pull-ups and place him on the potty. But he refuses to go.

“No, Mama! I want the heart potty!”

And light dawns. The urinal. Ed had taken him to the potty and must have let him use the urinal. Now that he had discovered that, a common potty was not going to suffice.

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. There was no point at all trying to explain to him why a women’s restroom does not have urinals. And since he simply refused to go unless he had a “heart potty”, I set him back on the floor, pulled everything back into place and we went back to the sanctuary where I laughed and whispered to Ed my dilemma. So, he took him. And what do you know? He went. In the “heart potty”.

Although days of accidents still loom ahead, the truth is I can say Ethan is potty trained. After all, he proved he can go or not go as he pleases. And he’s given me a much desired rest in this potty training adventure. Since women’s restrooms do not have urinals, when we’re out Ed will have to take him!

Happy 37th Birthday, Katey!

Katey – age 3

Not So Long Ago

Ed loves Red Lobster. I know we haven’t ended up there every year since we were married for his birthday, but certainly three out of the five. As we were sitting there on Saturday evening, we were trying to figure out which years we had gone and which Red Lobsters. We couldn’t really agree, and I have totally blanked out one of those birthdays, but watching Ed and the kids looking at pictures from our afternoon on the farm after we had eaten reminded me of his birthday just after Emry was born:

 Emry and Papa looking at something on the phone – 2015.

And look how we have changed in such a short time:

 Emry, Ethan and Papa looking at pictures – 2019!

Down at the Farm

Today is Ed’s birthday and he wanted to spend it doing something special with all of us, so we headed north about an hour to a place called Fair Oaks Farm. I knew a little about it between the website and what Mom had said on her brief visit with my nephew. I certainly didn’t expect that we would spend all day there…and it was a very enjoyable time.

We saw the pigs first. To give you a small idea of how many pigs we actually saw, that farm has 80,000 pigs born there every year. I’m sure we didn’t see anything close to 80,000; but there were certainly more pigs there than I had ever seen! Next we went back to the main area where we had lunch and the kids bounced on the huge “pillow” (as Emry called it), rode the train, ran through the hay maze, peddled tractors and finally went into the cow barn to play for a while before taking a bus over to the dairy farm – a huge production that not only produces countless gallons of milk every hour of the day but also enough manure (and so methane) to power itself. Back at the farm, we wiled away playing even more, picking apples, and eating ice cream. As there were quite a few things we didn’t do (like see a calf born), we will be going back…especially since it was just as economical to buy a year membership…which we did.

Spider Pig…Spider Man!

Emry signed the cow.

Ethan and the pigs.

 

Emry loved the low ropes course.

Taking a tractor ride to the apple orchard.

Old Friends

A few weeks ago when I was looking for an old picture of Abby, I happened upon pictures of our family vacation in the Smokey Mountains in 1994. It was rather funny that I came upon them when I did for my parents were about to head to Branson, Missouri to vacation with the same family we enjoyed the Smokeys with 25 years ago. Only their trip last week was an actual vacation. The trip 25 years ago would have been anything but.

We met the Teagues sometime in 1983 or 1984 at church in The Colony, Texas. Our families were two among dozens of young families that populated that church (quite literally with all the babies that kept coming). The story goes that my parents invited them over for dinner one evening and Mr. Teague’s response was, “All of us?” With three kids, they weren’t used to dinner invitations. They laugh at that now, for my parents ended up with eight kids and they had six.

Two more opposite families you’ll not find. My parents referred to Mr. and Mrs. Teague as “Ken and Barbie”. They had three very blond, bouncy kids. Mr. Teauge was a salesman who came from a rather rough background which included a brother who was all but permanently employed painting license plates for the state (as he put it). My parents had two more structured children, my dad being from a straight Catholic childhood and military career background. Years later, we would homeschool and they would not. We moved around constantly while they never left Texas. They would go through rough patches, and we would have great blessings. Then we would have hard times, and their blessings would abound. We saw each other infrequently and yet picked up right where we left off.  Why? Because Christ was the center of it all. The one thing we had in common that never changed.

In 1986, the two families met in Georgia for a family vacation. Two families with a grand total of five kids:

Aaron (age 8), Me (age 6), Ryan (age 6), Audra (age 3) and Katey (age 3)

We had a blast. I always had fun with Aaron, Ryan, and Audra – mostly with Aaron while I loved with bicker with Ryan. But it’s more than fair to say I had a crush on Aaron. (And if I’m honest with myself, I did until he got married and there was simply no hope left. But he did marry a Melissa, so he chose well. J)

Eight years later, in 1994, the two families would meet up again in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee. The gathering was a bit larger…with the grand total of twelve kids (only Caleb who was born the following March and Nathan who would be born in 1998 were missing):

 (L to R zigzagged): Jenny (age 2), my dad, Katey (age 11), Grace (age 4), my mom holding Abby (10 months), Daniel (age 7), me (age 14),  Sally (age 6), Aaron (age 16), Mr. Teague, Mrs. Teague holding Amy Jo (age 1), Whitney (age 5), Audra (age 11) and Ryan (age 14)

Although we more than doubled and ranged from teenagers to babies, we still had a great deal of fun. I still got along better with Aaron, wanted to bicker with Ryan, and spent late nights giggling with Audra and Katey. We played games, went on hikes, swam, shopped, and just had fun. But I can honestly say now, as a mom, that I doubt either vacation was really a “vacation” for my mom or Mrs. Teague. 

This past week, it was only my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Teague in Branson. By this time in our lives, the two families combined have doubled again. Aaron, Ryan, Audra and Whitney are all married with a combined number of 7 kids. Katey and I are married, Grace soon will be and, with my sister Abby, have a combined number of 5 kids. If it were remotely possible we would ever all get together again, it would be anything but a vacation. But I think we would have fun.

There are very few friendships in this world that last more than thirty years. They survive distance, months and years of no communication, joys, sorrows, children walking with the Lord and children who have fallen away, grandkids and simply aging. But friendships with Christ at the center will last even longer than that. They will last for all eternity.

Company Picnic

I have hazy memories of a couple of company picnics when I was a little girl in Tennessee. One occurred at some fancy house with acres upon acres of property. I’ve no clue who it belonged to, but I remember a tour of the house, a hay ride, and searching for money in a haystack. The other one I remember was at Horton Park, a place I was familiar with on account of family picnics. So I probably have memories of those mixed up, but the park brings back memories of a playground, more searching for money in a haystack, finding snails in the creek (and keeping a careful eye out for snakes, something quite dangerous in Tennessee), and learning the finer points of Bingo, a game not totally foreign to me as I played multiplication Bingo at school. The whole money thing, though, made no sense to me. Play a game for money? It seemed completely wrong then and still does today.

Very likely, in another thirty years, the company picnic we attended today will also seem very hazy. For, thankfully, nothing terribly memorable happened. And for a company picnic the size of one Subaru puts on, that is a good thing. Thousands of people were there, but the empty property that factory has (well, there is a football field, baseball fields, playground, rec center, tennis courts and daycare in the midst of many more acres) made it seem like there wasn’t that many. The only terribly crowded area was the food tents, but we found seats easy enough and weren’t there long enough to add to the crowd. After all, who wants to eat when there are bounce houses, carnival games, face painting, and all you can eat popcorn, cotton candy, saved iced and ice cream? 

It really was a good set up. The section we frequented had five different bounce houses the kids could play in – and the kids simply bounced back and forth between them. I kept an eye on Emry, and Ed chased Ethan around. It was brilliant. With so many, they didn’t get bored.  They dashed about, bounced to their hearts content, and completely exhausted themselves. In between, we got shaved ice (my personal favorite), enjoyed some popcorn and ice cream, got faces painted, and played one carnival game to win prizes. To top it all off, we parked in the parking lot on the other side of the factory and rode the bus back and forth, complete with a rendition of The Wheels on the Bus. 

We all went home exhausted. The kids went right to bed and while I had a few things to do, I actually curled up and watched an episode of Downton Abbeywithout working on either personal projects or work projects. A rare thing. And a nice thing.

The First Day of Kindergarten

There are three things I remember clearly about my first day of Kindergarten in August 1985:

1. My worse fear: getting off the school bus at the wrong school
2. Wearing my favorite dress (Strawberry Shortcake of course!)
3. Being forgotten by the bus driver who never came by

Thirty-four years later, my worse fear is more than a little silly. I imagine most kids starting school fear the new teacher, or making friends, or being in a new place. After all, no bus driver is going to let a tiny five-year-old get off at the high school, junior high, or even the other elementary school in town which started at grade three and, therefore, the kids were at least eight-years-old. My worse fear should have been that the bus driver would completely forget me and not come pick me up at all. Thankfully, another bus driver kindly stopped and went out of her way to take me the Marshall County Elementary School, a school she had already stopped at on her route. Mr. Black, my bus driver for the next 3½ years, never forgot me after that.

As a whole I don’t remember much about the start of my school life. I have pieces of Kindergarten that dance in my head: the two good friends I made (Aleesha and Katie), the day I came in to brag about my first lost tooth, learning to write the letter “C” (not sure why that one sticks in my head), being a Mouseketeer in our school play, the days of the week song (which Emry now loves), Nathan Cathey scribbling with a marker on my Cabbage Patch Kid’s head, and a little black girl named Jennifer who was a huge Whitney Houston fan (a person I had never heard of at that age but to this day I can sing The Greatest Love of All, although now that I understand the actual words…well, Emry won’t be learning that in Kindergarten).

Kindergarten is a pivotal moment in the life of a child, hence the reason moms now go out of their way to stage “First Day of Kindergarten” pictures complete with stat signs and smiling kids in brand new clothes weighed down by backpacks half their size. Honestly, I’m not sure many of these are taken on the actual first day of Kindergarten. I would have been too nervous to smile on my first day, let alone look delighted next to some chalkboard stat sign declaring I’m five, can count to ten, and adore kitty cats. Besides, only the most organized of mothers could manage to pull that off in addition to packing lunch, making sure everything is in said backpack, and catching the bus without a nervous breakdown or even getting sick. And that’s with an iPhone slipped in her back pocket. My mom would have had to find the camera and ensure it included working batteries and film. Didn’t happen.

But I do have a Kindergaten picture in my favorite dress:

 Well, today was Emry’s first day of Kindergarten. It crossed my mind to write some stats up on her chalkboard wall and get a cute picture, but I had enough trouble finding time to get the list of sight words, memory verse and taped penmanship lines on the wall when both kids were (miraculously!) busy elsewhere. Emry was already dressed by the time I thought the whole thing through, anxious to sit down at her little table and do her math and my iPhone was plugged in somewhere else. Lest you’re still stuck in the 20^thCentury mindset of home education, we do not“go to school” in our pajamas, but her hair wasn’t yet brushed so I decided to skip the whole picture thing. Later, though, I thought at least a picture would be good minus the stats, new clothes or backpack half her size.  And since we practiced writing her name, that is on the wall (with Ethan’s attempt at writing his own name below).

All in all, I doubt the day was very memorable. Penmanship, reading, phonics and a math worksheet – things she will be doing every day for the next months – are hardly worth remembering. Still, today is a pivotal day. For both of us.