Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Climbing the Ladder

I am having a hard time comprehending that I actually finished my first semester in college.  For many of you who went to college right after high school this may be difficult to understand what the big deal is.  To me, it's a huge deal.  I wasn't even sure if I could do it.  Seriously.  My trying attitdue was right, but my head was also filled with doubts.  Many doubts.

I waited a long time for my turn to learn.  When I was the traditional age of a freshman, I was going through quite a lot.  I was living a nightmare, actually.  I went away to college but dropped out and took incompletes in everything.  I got married when I was 19 and started a family.  I taught music lessons, I babysat, a taught preschool for years, but always part time and I brought my children with me.  I wanted to be a stay at home mother more than anything in this world.  It was important to me that I be the one raising my children, especially when they were babies.  I wanted to breast feed them and care for them all the time.  So, I decided to wait until my youngest child started kindergarten until I went back to school.  I had to wait such a long time because I kept on having babies!

Well, today was my last exam of the semester.  I was about to leave my house to drive the 20 miles to my school when I realized I locked my keys in the house.  Oh, no.  My heart just sank.  I have worked so hard, I didn't want the semester to end on the note of me missing my German exam.

I called Adrian.  We tried to think of windows I could break.  We cannot afford to replace windows right now, so he mentioned the ladder and the back deck being a possibility.  It's a sliding glass door and we don't always lock it because it is so high off the ground.  He was working so he couldn't really talk.  I was in a hurry and on a mission.  I got the ladder.  It was raining.  My shoes were filling up with mud and water.  Cold mud and water.  I had quite a time maneuvering that huge ladder.  It must weigh at least 60 pounds.  I was cussin', let me tell you.  Cussin' and cryin' in the rain.  And the damn ladder got hung up in a tree while I was trying to get it into the right place.  I cussed and cried some more.  And then I thought, "What am I doing?  I cannot climb up there.  It's like 13 feet in the air!  Plus, the only ladder I have ever climbed is a step stool.  I am too fat to climb up this thing.  And I am terrified of heights!  I get dizzy on the step ladder.  Seriously."

After finanlly getting the ladder in the right place, I stepped on the first rung and I prayed.  Please don't let me fall.  I have five kids.  They need a mother.  No one will know I am on the ground for hours and hours.  I will die.  In the mud and probably in the dog shit.  Oh, god.  I stepped in that too.

I went up one more.  Please don't let me fall. 

I went up higher and higher.  I was the scariest thing ever.  And just like going to college, it may not seem like a big deal that I climbed a big ladder, but it is huge to me.  And it is raining.  And I am totally alone.  And I have cold mud, water, and dog shit in my favorite shoes.

I reached the top and realized I didn't exactly know what to do next.  Do I hold on to the rail and let go of the ladder?  How?  Oh, my goodness!  I wanted to climb back down right then and there.  But I'd made it that far.  Why quit now?  Gosh, hours and hours must have already passed.  I am sure I've missed the exam.

Letting go was the hardest part.  I am much too fat to be hoisting myself up on some wooden railing.  Maybe I can just let myself fall onto the deck and try to roll to avoid cracking my head.  But of course, seeing as how we are rednecks deep down, our broken dishwasher is in the way.  And so is the grill.  Why our dishwasher is still on the deck is beyond me.  Why the hell is it stil out  here?  That dumb thing flooded the basement from the upstairs kitchen over the summer.  Yeah, at the same time our aircondition unit broke when it was 104 degrees outside!  That was hell.  And I mean that.  So is the dishwasher on the back deck as a reminder of how we survived washing dishes for 7 people by hand every day when it was 104 freakin' degrees last summer?

I don't know how I did it, but all at once, I realized both my feet were on the top deck railing and I was off the ladder.  It was sooooo high.  "Do not look down.  I repeat: do not look down," said the little voice in my head.

Of couse I looked down.

The ground was so far away and my dog looked like an ant.

I felt dizzy.  I squated down with my big butt in the air and my head pointed down on the deck's floor.  I eased one leg down.  Slowly.  Gently.  I began to feel graceful.  Like a tighrope walker when they dip one leg down.  Only I was wet.  And fat.  And I had cold mud, water, and dog shit in my shoe.  And I was crying.

My leg was dipped down as far as it could go and there was like a foot of air between it at the deck floor.  Why do I have to have such short legs?  I am stuck.  I am stuck in this awkward position.  Looking like a mom on crack, playing circus on her back deck, 13 feet above the ground.  It's my leg with the bad ankle.  The one I shattered in a car accident 17 years ago that aches when it is raining.  Why does it have to be raining?

If I jump onto this leg, I may have to just hop to my exam.  And watch the sliding glass door be locked.  If it is, I will break the whole door with my fist if I have to. 

And then, plop!  Down I go.  No big deal.  I am safe.  Whew!  And the door is unlocked.  I run in, get my keys off the key hook, jump in my car, use some handy dandy baby wipes to do a quick clean up on my hands and shoes and sweater.  I fly like the wind to my college, get to the parking lot.  It is totally full.  I park on the street.  I run.  OK, so I did that weird old lady walk/run thingie.  I saw my friend.  We high fived each other, in a matter of speaking, for surviving the semester (he has kids and a full plate too) and then I sat down in my desk only 3 minutes late. 

It was a miracle.  Sorta.  I did that whole ladder/ deck scaling thing in about five minutes... though it seemed much longer, lemme tell ya!

It was an appropriate ending to my first semester.  I did something I didn't think I could do.  I took on 5 college classes and I made a 4.0.   When I don't overthink things, and just take things one step or one rung at a time, and PRAY HARD, I can do just about anything.  And for me, that's a huge lesson.

And goodness gracious, I'd be a chicken in a hen box if there wasn't a RAINBOW in the sky when I got back home!  I tell you what, life is really like that.  It really is. 

Monday, December 5, 2011

World Religion Class

"None of the religious traditions we have studied would still be around if they had not offered human beings valuable ways of thinking about and responding to ultimate reality.  What, in your opinion, is the single most valuable teaching of each religion we have studied?"

Judaism- There is one God and the covenant Moses made with God established a set of moral and ritual obligations.  Follow these obligations (follow Torah) and you will be happy. (and for all those who love Jesus, Jews believe Jesus to be a prophet.  I think they don't share the opinion that He is the Messiah because according to scripture (I think in Isaiah, it says that when the Messiah comes, there will be no  more war, no more fighting and no more tears, or something like that.  Well, there is not peace in the middle east yet, so I guess the Messiah hasn't come yet?)  A Christian response is that He did come, but He has to come again.  There's some difference for you.  I am not sure where it says He will come twice in the Old Testament.  But I am still reading it, so maybe I haven't gotten to that part.  However, I am not sure I'll find that part in my first straight read -thru, if a bazillion people before me haven't seen it.  Any way, interesting food for thought for me.  And, by the way, it is very wrong to say Jews hate Jesus.  My first Christmas card of the year came from one of my Jewish friends.  I know she doesn't have a hate bone in her body.)

Christianity- There is one God and God loved the world so much that He sent His son, Jesus to save humanity and to conquer humanity's weakness.  Claim Jesus as your Savior and you will be happy. (Other faiths may wonder if Christians are really monotheistic...is Jesus a god?  Is that polytheistic?  The theology of the trinity was actually adopted in the 4 century, so it's kinda a "new" belief.  Hindus embrace the Christian's view of the trinity because they believe there are many gods.  Jews and Muslims do not because they only believe in one God according to the first five books which all three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) happen to share.  Some Christians reject the interpretation of the trinity that says Jesus is a god.  Others believe He was God in human form but it makes me wonder who He was talking to on the cross and why He called God: "Father" throughout His life.  And why does John 3:16 say God sent His only begotten son?  Some Christians believe He was the actual begotten son of God (conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary), so He is separate just as my daughter is not Abigail and when addressing me, it would be weird for someone to address her, thinking they were talking to me.  Others keep the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost separate and never pray to Jesus, and only say His name at the end.  The book, The Shack, does a wonderful illustration of the trinity that might help some people discover a new way to look at things.)

Islam- There is one God.  Islam means submission.  If you will totally submit to God (follow the Qur'an, perform Salat, follow the Five Pillars), you will be happy.  (Jesus is a prophet in this faith and is mentioned in the Qur'an more times than Muhammad.  I know of Muslims who wear T Shirts that say, "I love Jesus"  and they do.  I loved reading about Jesus in the Qur'an.  It was awesome.  The Christmas story is in there and everything.  You should check it out if you ever get the chance.)  And please! Do not think Muslims are terrorists.  This is a bad misunderstanding.  I have heard so many people speculate if the President is a Muslim and the way they say it is as if this is terrible.  Just the other day, during a heated debate in English class, someone lumped terrorists with the entire Islamic faith in one sentence.  It is wrong.  It would be like me saying that all Christians are child molesters just because I know someone who was molested by their priest.  Please, terrorists make up a small (in comparison of the entire Muslim faith) handful of fanatics who are not following the teachings of their own faith.  They have twisted it and defiled it.  Just as some Christians may twist scriptures that might make it seem OK for them to beat their wives in order to exert their authority and make their wives submit. 

Hinduism- There is one Supreme Being (Brahman) but many gods and goddesses.  The heart of the religion is discovering experimental knowledge of the relationship between the human soul (Atman) and the Supreme Being. Practice the four yogas and you will be happy.  (Jesus is an avatara in this Faith.  You can follow Him.  He can be your "Way" in discovering your relationship between your soul and The Divine.  By the way, exploring other faiths, other Ways, can make your relationship with your Truth even stronger and more beautiful.)

Buddhism- Buddha passed into everlasting Nirvana 2,500 years ago.  He found enlightenment at the age of 35 and spent the following 45 years teaching what he knew (dharma.)  If you follow the Eightfold path, you will be happy. (At the Buddhist Temple, I was surprised how many times the teacher (a monk) emphasized not to leave your own belief, because it was all "There."  You can find enlightenment and happiness where you are today.  The Noble Eightfold Path is for everyone.  Meditation is for everyone.  In this faith, Jesus is a bodhisattva.  Look that up.  It's beautiful.)

After studying these five major world religions, I have found they all share so much in common.  I cannot even pick a favorite if my own beliefs did not exist.  I wouldn't know which one I would want to explore first.  It would be like asking me to choose which of my children I love the most.  They are all so different, but I love them all the same.  This does not mean I subscribe to every belief, because I don't.  But, it would be incorrect for me to state I love religion one over another.

It seems to me that the purpose of each religion is to discover a relationship with The Divine in order to find happiness.  Different religions use different tools and techniques to cultivate their relationship with The Divine, but at the heart of it all, maybe it's all the same.

Sometimes I like to think of an Ultimate Truth.  If we all knew what that Ultimate Truth was, we'd only have one religion to study and we'd all accept it.  At least that's my opinion.  Most people believe what they believe because to them, it's their Truth.  But my Truth might be different from your Truth and I don't like it when people say, "My Truth is truer than yours."  Let's face it, we all come from different life experiences and different traditions.  That plays a major part in what we decide to believe.  I have had a different life experience than a woman who lives in Afghanistan.  As well as I've had a different life experience than my next door neighbor.  How can we say other people are wrong when they are just going by their own personal experiences coming to their own conclusions of what the Truth is?

When I think about the Ultimate Truth, it makes me wonder if don't all have fragments of this Ultimate Truth.  Maybe it all got split apart and manifested into all these different world religions.  I like to think of the Ultimate Truth being like an enormous, glowing ball, like the sun.  It became so full of love, it exploded (big bang) and it burst into pieces. Orgasmic!  Maybe my Truth is just a piece of The Ultimate and everyone else has a different piece of it too.  Maybe if and when we all come together, we will see It, like a puzzle with scattered pieces being put together.  It will be the BIG LOVE right here on earth! 

I have learned so much in my World Religion class and it was only an introduction.  It has made me hungry for more knowledge, more understanding.  I wish everyone in the whole, wide world could take this class.  It wouldn't matter if they believed in a higher power or not.  Because whatever your Truth is, it matters to me and it matters to the world.  We need to all be friends so we can put our pieces together and create something so beautiful.  Imagine!

Friday, October 14, 2011

Why I Love Scooters

Have I ever told you the story of why I love scooters?

Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."

That's all they said.  "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"

I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek.  I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything.  Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing.  Probably reading the encyclopedia.

Jolie had come home from school this day very upset.  She didn't really have friends at school.  Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day.  It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel.  This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes.  And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks.  I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?"  But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.

Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names!  The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.

I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way:  If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out.  Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.

But that does not work.  Let me tell you.  Now I tell my children to fight back.  Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.

Well, I decided enough is enough.  I called the ring leader's mom and dad.  I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action.  They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done.  She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.

I called Adrian and told him what went down.  I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.

In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."

I stayed inside with the little kids.

About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.

It is a little girl who lives down the street.  She is hysterical.  I mean, completely hysterical.  She is panicked.

In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"

"Oh, my God!  Who's eyes?"

"Your daughter's!"

It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.

I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.

Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.

I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.

On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.

I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital.  They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood.  The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.

Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.

He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie.  All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"

At this point, I could not focus.  He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter.  He was furious.  He wanted to know where they lived!  I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.

We finally made it to the emergency room.  Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain.  The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up.  Jolie was wailing!  She begged the nurse to stop.  As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.

My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."

He was right.  BOTH arms were totally broken.

Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.

She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.

She could not feed herself.

She could not bathe herself.

She could not do much of anything.

Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours.  I read books to her aloud.  We watched I Love Lucy DVDs.  We ate a lot of chocolate.

Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had.  My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.

You know how rumors get started.  Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast.  Cards and letters started pouring in.  Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her.  She was showered with gifts.  It was the sweetest thing.

I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school.  It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money.  I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Dear Family,

Going back to school has been the easy part about going back to school.  The hard part is all the stuff that doesn't get done while I am gone or studying.  I think y'all been spoiled by having a stay at home mother for all these years.  Even when I worked, I made sure I could either bring y'all with me or I worked at home. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of it.  I am grateful I was able to breast feed babies and not have to rely on strangers to raise you.  But y'all aren't babies any more.  Everyone is (finally) in school now and so it is time to hang up my apron.  I have waited a long time for my turn.

In order for this transition to go more smoothly than it has for the past couple of months, let me help you by giving you some useful tips: 

1. If you use a dish, you must wash it afterwards.  And no, this is not suggesting there is an option of eating off the floor or trying to eat spaghetti with your hands.

2. If you are hungry, you know where the kitchen is. 

3. If you tell me one more time there is nothing to eat when in fact there is plenty, we will play a game called "Prison" in which I will serve you only bread and water for a week.

4. Boys: if you "miss" while aiming, there is a handy dandy toilet wand by the toilet.  Work some magic, OK?

5. I know most of you in this family are very short.  If you cannot aim your spit for the hole in the sink, please use the handy dandy step stool so you will not coat the entire counter with slobbery Crest for Kids Bubble Mint toothpaste.

6. Believe it or not, this house has a laundry room.  It is downstairs and there are 2 big machines in there.  One is called a washing machine and the other is a dryer.  I will be teaching a one time only lesson on how to use them tonight so make sure you are there and listening carefully.

7. When you take off your shoes, for the love of god, please make a mental note of where you are in the house so that you will be able to find them the next morning before school.  I know it's incredible, but I actually do not know where your shoes are at any given time. It may seem that I do, but I don't.

8.  I also do not know when your school projects are due.  I know it may seem like I talk to your teachers personally each day, but I don't.  I have no clue what you are supposed to be working on.  Keep up with your own assignments.  Write things down.  There are a gazillion sticky notes in the drawer where the silverware is.  Use them.  And I am warning you:  If you spring some last minute thing on me again and expect me to go out to Walmart in my pajamas to buy you some poster board or modeling clay in the middle of the night when it finally pops in your head that you need to make a brain, a cell, an Indian Mound, a volcano, or some book report presentation, you can just forget it.  I will let you have the experience of failure and you can just grow up living in a van down by the river.

xoxo,
Mom

Friday, September 2, 2011

Autism part 9

The day finally arrived!  Nicholas had his first day of kindergarten a few weeks ago!  This is a huge step and I must admit I was worried to death for the week prior to school beginning and I was a nervous wreck the first day.  Nicholas is riding the little bus home and I was nearly crying waiting for it that first day.  This is my baby, y'all.  He's the last one to leave the nest and go to big school.

He is five and a half  and still only 27 pounds.  He is wearing clothes and shoes from two years ago and is still not potty trained.  That was a bummer.  We worked very hard on potty training at Challenged Child and Friends and over the summer.  I really thought he was "getting it" but he's not quite there yet.  I am really hoping he will be wearing underwear to school by first grade.

But wow, what leaps and bounds he has made in other areas of learning.  This boy is smart.  I am telling you, there is a genius locked away in there.  Nicholas has a beautiful memory.  He remembers everything and it is cool to see some random memory emerge at unexpected times and in unexpected ways.  He remembers all the sounds letters make.  He can read basic sight words.  And he can fix mechanical things.  He's pretty amazing.

Nicholas is handling transitions much, much better.  He seems so mature walking into the school each morning.  No melt downs!  (knock on wood)  He's been a little bit teary now and then, but no freak outs.  Fischer said that Nicholas started crying in the lunch room, missing me one day, and his parapro ran to get Fischer to comfort him.  Is that not the sweetest thing ever?  Fischer picked his little brother up, held him and reassured him everything was going to be OK.  I am glad Mollie and Fischer go to the same school!

One day, Nicholas came home from school with a pink lipstick stain on his head.  This made me so happy.  This meant that some teacher gave him a kiss.  My heart melted and I felt a sense of peace that people at his school are loving my sweet boy.  There have been several times a teacher has stopped me in the store or around town and asked me if I am Nicholas' mommy.  They tell me they just want to scoop him up and take him home with them.  Nicholas does have this affect on people.  He is so cute and sweet.  Who can resist him?

Nicholas loves school so far.  I am grateful for all his teachers.  I am grateful he has the opportunity to learn the best way he can in a special environment with understanding people. This is a great beginning to his educational future.  I see awesome things to come!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Summer 2011



Ok, so the summer of 2011 didn't go as planned.  I intended to create structure so that we would all stay in line and not kill each other.  You know, a house full of children can be chaotic unless the parents enforce a schedule.  Plus, the summer is a perfect time to work on things like math facts.  Well, screw that because trying to enforce structure when all the kids want iss freedom is like trying to nail jello to a tree or like herding cats. 

I came up with the lovely idea of Camp Cutchshaw where the children would learn things and participate in camp- like activities seeing as how we are totally broke and cannot afford fancy real camps.  I think Camp Cutchshaw lasted 3 days.  I am not sure.  I could check one of the previous blogs about our Camp Cutchshaw adventures, but I do not want to relive any of it. 

So, I gave up.  I threw in the towel.  I did not endure to the end.  I said to hell with it.  And you know what happened? 

We had a pretty fabulous summer.  The kids were lazy.  They slept in.  They stayed up late.  They didn't make up their beds.  They did not hang up laundry.  They did not do dishes.  They did not do chores.  And guess what?  We all relaxed.  Wow.  What a concept.

Next summer I am totally going to incorporate the Cutchshaw Spa where overstressed children can come learn how to be lazy because I am pretty good at teaching that school, apparently.

School year is for hard work and summer is for unwinding.  That's my new philosophy which is pretty great because no kid will resist that.

We swam a LOT.  We went to the movies a few times.  We played with toys we had forgotten about.  We played games.  We hunted for the possum who lives under our porch that has eaten 2 of our stray cats.  We had some circle of life lessons.  We learned what it feels like to live without air condition for 3 days when it is 104 outside.  (THAT was NO fun!)  We had a couple of bon fires.  We visited friends.  I learned how to wash dishes by hand when our dishwasher broke and I've gotten so good at it that we may never replace it.  (sigh)  I had a birthday. Sydney turned 15 and got her learner's license.  She is an excellent driver, by the way.  Jolie turned 17 and is enjoying a summer romance.  Mollie's birthday is coming up in a few days.  And I took the kids on our annual Fripp Island vacation with my mother, my sisters, their children, and one of my brothers-in-law.

Today is the first day of school and now the Cutchshaw Spa is over.  I am kinda sad.  As difficult as it can be juggling everything, I really do love being with my children.  I love hanging out with them in our pajamas in the middle of the day.  I love having time to read books with them at night.  I love not feeling pressure to get things done at a certain time.  I love being able to just lay out in the middle of the driveway looking at the stars in the middle of the night and not feeling like a bad mom for letting them stay up past their bed time. 

I hope when I am dead, they will remember the Cutchshaw Spa Summer more fondly than they would have been grateful that I had helped polish up handwriting and drilled math facts every day.  It would have been good to do that, but this was good too.  And I hope they know just how much I ENJOY being in their precious presence.  How I love their puppy breath in the morning and how much I love hanging out in the teenager's room in the middle of the night telling jokes.  I love it when Fischer drills me on trivia facts and how Mollie draws happy pictures of sunshines and rainbows and then in her twisted way, draws "angry mobs" in the background.  I love watching Nicholas line up all the food out of the pantry all over the house.   I love it when all of us get squished in my bed watching a really dumb TV show.  I love it when every one's bored and we try to think of a cheap activity to do and everyone argues about who gets to pick and then everyone gets upset and we end up doing nothing.  I love it all.  And I love each of them.  Amen.






























Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Satan can just go to hell

Did y'all know:  The average American woman is 5′ 4″, 164 pounds, and a size 14.  In fact, over 50% of women in this country wear a size 14 or larger.

I did not know this as I am currently killing myself trying to get my butt in shape..... again..... for the zillionth time. I have been doing the calorie count thing AGAIN for the past 5 weeks and guess what!  I've about starved to death and have lost 2 pounds.  2 pounds!  I have denied myself the comfort of chocolate during that time of the month.  I have had a salad when I wanted a cheeseburger.  I have left food on my plate.  I have logged in every single thing that I have consumed, even the M&M's I tried to sneak and for what?  2 pounds.  Gosh!  It really sucks.

I am not giving up, though.  Oh, no.  This is a challenge.  It is me versus Satan himself.  And I am going to win.

I am approaching this struggle spiritually this time.  I have been enlightened by the book Made to Crave.  It has opened my eyes. 

It's Satan's fault.  The devil made me get fat.  Well, OK, I take personal responsibility, but he has some responsibility too.  He has tempted me with all that yummy stuff that made me so fat.  I've been trying to silence the cries of a hungry soul with food when really all I've been needing is the Lord.

Isn't it interesting that one of the first things we learn in the scriptures is a story about how a woman was tempted with food?  Well, her bite of the forbidden fruit led to the collapse of humanity and my consumption of too many forbidden donuts led to the collapse of a plastic chair on Easter 10 years ago, but there's a connection.  She knew she wasn't supposed to eat it but she just couldn't help it.  Satan made it look so good and juicy.  Satan does that to me all the damn time.

"Come on, Abigail!  Doesn't this smooth, rich chocolate look yummy?"

"I am on a diet, Satan.  Get thee behind me."

"Come on, you have five children and a husband.  They are all crazy.  You need this chocolate just to have a little enjoyment in your life.  You deserve it.  You work so hard.  No one will even appreciate you until you are dead.  This chocolate will make you feel so much better.  And afterwards, you should chase it down with some salty chips.  Mmmmmmmm."

"Satan, I love the way you think.  You are so right!  I do deserve this treat."

And then I just get fatter.  And you know what?  It is his plan.  The devil is trying to sabotage me so I will get stuck in my dining room chair again so I won't be able to leave my house.  He wants me to be so embarrassed about my body that I won't try new things.  He wants me to hate myself so I won't continue fulfilling my life's purpose.  He wants my butt to jiggle so insanely that I will never want to go to the gym because the mere thought of exercising in front of another human being makes me want to cry.

So I won't give up today.  In fact, I have a new gym membership that I got from school.  I am going to take all kinds of classes.  There is yoga, pilates, Zumba, and equipment that I might actually break, but I am going to do it any way.  I don't care if there will be 18 year old boys in there working out as part of their baseball training.  I am going to do it any way.  I don't care if they stare at me or even laugh.  I'd like to see them deliver five babies without pain medication or epidurals.  I am STRONG!

And Satan, you can just go to hell!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Daddy Test





It was December 1999.  Jolie was five and Sydney was three. I was a single mother and Adrian and I were falling in love.  Adrian was 40 years old and had never been a father before. I thought it would be good to have a series of tests to see if he would be a good father or not. The first test was a very simple one.

It was right before Christmas and I had to work at the church for the Christmas Pageant. We lived right across the street from our church. I told him his task was to strap Sydney into the stroller, hold Jolie's hand, meet me at the church, go through the pageant, return to my apartment, and then play for a little while until I came home.

Easy cheesy! No big deal. Adrian was doing great. He thought it was a breeze. He looked so proud walking through the church with the little girls.  My heart melted when I saw the three of them together. 

But when he got the girls back home and got Sydney out of the stroller, Sydney pushed Jolie to the floor. Jolie started crying. Adrian knelt down and comforted her. He said, "It's OK, it's just a little boo boo." She let him hold her. They were bonding. Adrian was pleased with his great fathering skills. They shared a cuddle moment. And then he looked around and said, "Where's Sydney?"

He ran upstairs and found Sydney standing on the vanity in the bathroom with a pair of scissors in her hand going chop, chop, chop! Adrian saw gobs of beautiful golden curls all over the floor!

About that time, I came home. Adrian had tears in his eyes and he was so sorry. I know he thought I was going to be mad.

I asked, "Do you want to run away?"

And he said, "No."

So I said, "Well....then you passed the test!"

If he knew how far he would be tested in the 11 years that have followed, I think he might have said, "Yes!  I want to run away!"

We got engaged on New Year's Eve after this event.  Our engagement only lasted 6 weeks.  We had only known each other for a total of 12 weeks when we got married.  Isn't that crazy?  It really is.  But I highly recommend this for all couples.  Get married while you're still hopelessly in love with each other.  Everyone has undesirable qualities.  It's kinda nice to go ahead and commit your whole life to someone before you know what those bad qualities are.  It's like a dream.  Every marriage is based on a wing and a prayer any way.  You can know someone all your life and that doesn't mean you'll have a good marriage.

Well, we had a baby a year later, he adopted the girls, and then two more babies followed.  I cannot tell you the number of Daddy tests Adrian has endured with five children.  Some have been quite typical and others have been really challenging and some even heartbreaking.  Adrian has passed every time with flying colors.  He is so calm and loving.  And he knows how to say he is sorry on the rare occasions he falls short.  Perhaps this is his best quality because I sure know a lot of people who do not know how to apologize.

Plus, he still tells the best bed time stories.  I hope that when our children are all grown up, the memories of their Daddy sitting on the edge of their beds making up elaborate, personalized fairy tales will stay in their hearts.  I hope they will remember the many fishing adventures he's taken them on, the camping trips, and the Daddy daughter dates to the nail salons, the interesting dinner table conversations when he teaches us things about science, the world, or openly discusses his spiritual beliefs.

Girls, remember that he gave you a diamond ring on your 13th birthday and told you he wanted to be the first man to give you a diamond.  Boys, remember your man adventures doing target practice and camping without us girls.

I want you to know that he is the one who picks out most of your Christmas presents.  He is like a kid in a candy store and spends a lot of time picking gifts that would be just right for each of you.  On the rare occasions when there is extra money left over, he spends it on each of you. 

Hold it in your heart what it felt like to go on his famous helicopter rides when he would hold you above his head and spin you around, or when he'd make you walk on the ceiling, or when he held you steady so you could ride a bike.  Remember these things.  Forget about the road trips of all seven of us being stuck in the van together, OK? 

Adrian once said that parents are like artists and they aren't appreciated until they are dead.  It rings true sometimes.  I know we frequently forget to show our appreciation for him.  We forget to think about how hard he works to provide for all of us.  We forget how thin he is spread making sure all six of us feel loved and special and he juggles caring for his elderly mother too.  I don't know how he does it all. 

Adrian, you really are the best father I have ever known in my whole entire life and I am not just saying that because you are the father of my children.  You have the sweetest heart and you lead this family with such a gentle spirit.  You are a really good teacher and you know how to play.

We love you so much and hope you know it.
xoxo

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Father's Day Column 2011

Holding the back of the bicycle
Dear Lula Belle,
Since it is almost Father’s Day, what is the best advice your dad ever gave to you? I met your dad when he first came to Gainesville. I was working at the hospital. He was our pediatrician for all our kids. My son went to him till he was married. He got real sad when your dad said he had to go to a grown up doctor from then on. Soon, he had a child of his own and Dr. Mike was the baby’s doctor. We miss him so much and we love your whole family. –Just a friend
Dear Friend,
I was thinking the other day about the time my daddy taught me how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. I was six years old and had a hand-me-down bike from my cousin, Chris. It had a banana seat with flames on it. I thought I was Evel Knievel. My daddy made me practice in the back yard on the grass before I could ride on the cement driveway.
Daddy, in his colorful plaid pants, shirt with the big collar, and penny loafers would hold on to the back of the seat to steady the bike and run along with me as I pedaled as hard as I could. I would holler, “Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” and from some distance behind me, I would hear him say, “I already did! You are doing it!” I would look back and then consequently crash. He would make me get right back up and do it again.
Life sure is a lot like learning to ride a bike. We all need someone to hold us steady sometimes. We all need a push. And the one helping us has to know when to let go and allow us do it on our own. We must learn to only look back when necessary and even then to do it quickly and carefully or else we will crash into what is up ahead. When we fall, it is important to get right back on and do it again. I am glad my father made me get right back on even when I was scared. I am sure if mama was the one teaching me, she would have let me come inside.
Life is a balance. We all need our mamas to nurture us and kiss our boo- boo’s. Mamas are the ones we run to when we need some comfort. But it’s our daddies who make us get back on the bike. They are strong enough to hold us steady until we get it right.
Daddy didn’t give up on me. He believed in me and before too long, I was riding in the driveway with my big sister. For hours we would ride in circles playing Charlie’s Angels. Some imaginary bad guy would be on our tails and we would pretend our bicycles were motorcycles. Within a week, I was riding on the street and through empty parking lots on Sunday afternoons.
Daddy was an enlightened man. When I was fourteen, he told me, “To every valley, there are at least two mountains.” I think of him saying this quite often. I was crying in my bedroom, heartbroken over a boy when he stuck his head in my door way and said this to me. It has stayed in my heart all these years. It’s probably the best advice he ever gave me. Even when we are at the bottom of a valley, there are at least two ways up. It gives me hope. It was his way of holding me steady so I could start pedaling again. I have pedaled over many a mountain this way.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads who hold the back of the bicycle. Thank you for running alongside us until we get it right. Thank you for holding us steady. And thank you for making us get back on when we fall.
Need Advice? Ask Lula Belle by sending your questions to: asklulabelle@windstream.net  

(Daddy and my little sister, celebrating the birth of her first son 2008)
Daddy, we miss you so much.  We wish you were here.  We still need you.  There are moments we are still lost and our hearts break into a million pieces when we want to see you.  But we are mighty grateful that you were the kind of Daddy who held the back of the bicycle.  Everything you taught us and the love you shared with others is in our hearts forever.  I know you somehow watch over us.  I don't know how it works, but it does. 

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Big Fat Liar

Oh, the calm is still enveloping our house like a warm blanket on a cold day.  Never mind that it is hot as hell outside.  We are spending most of our time huddled up in the house as if it was snowing.  The house is a mess.  I haven't seen it this disorganized since Nicholas was a baby and I was getting by on just 3 hours of sleep.  I typically thrive on order and cleanliness but I am coming to find that a dirty house isn't as fatal as I once feared. 

I tried going on a diet again.  I did another calorie counter program.  It really is harder than it looks.  I have been eating 1300 calories a day and have gained 3 pounds. And yes, I did calculate in the bag of pistachios I consumed while meditating the other day. 

Yesterday while shopping, I picked up a diet book called the Dukan Diet.  It is supposed to teach you how to eat like a French woman.  I thumbed through the pages and gagged when I skimmed over a page about eating animal organs. 

Do you know how many diet books I have bought and read over the years?  It's almost embarrassing.  All the books are dumb.  They didn't need to cut down so many trees.  All they really need are three pages.  One page that says, "Eat less."  And one page that says, "Move more."  And the last page should have a disclaimer  that says, "If you are fat, you probably will always be fat and when you eat less, sometimes your body will go on freak out mode and you will actually gain weight.  Exercising can be VERY dangerous for fat people, especially dancing.  You will realize you are getting old and have arthritis and not be able to move for five days after a work out."  The end.

I've always wanted to be thinner but I don't know why.  I am not sure what that would do for me.  It's not like I would go on a shopping spree and frolic through the stores in my skinny body.  I can do that now when I feel like it.  I did it yesterday.  I blew some birthday money at the fat girl store and had just as much fun as a skinny girl, I bet.  I saw my butt in a 3 way mirror and said to myself that it looks just as nice as anyone else's.  It may be bigger than most folk's and it may or  may not have ever gotten stuck in a dining room chair, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have redeeming qualities.  It's just as round and soft as a Victoria Secret model's, only mine is 10 times bigger.  Being only 5 feet tall, I am fun sized and super sized at the same time.  How glorious is that?

I can do everything as a fat girl that I could do as a skinny girl.  Sometimes I don't do it only because I am scared about what other people might think, but that's pretty stupid.  Who cares?   Do I think I don't deserve to wear a bikini on a beach?  Do I think I don't deserve to go skinny dipping in a lake with my friends?  It's not like I have been a bad girl and need to be grounded from having fun.  I am 37.  I have earned every fat roll.  My fat rolls are like battle scars.  See this tummy?  It is my womb that carried five babies.  See these humongous boobs?  They nursed those five babies for a total of 9 years.  See these thighs and hips?  This is from all the ice cream I ate when I was lost and sad.  And see my flappy arms?  This is from all the cheese dip I ate when I was happy and having fun.   

Oprah has it all figured out.  You can be fat, just wear beautiful clothes.  I don't think she's ever said this, but that's what she does.  She has enough money and resources to have a personal chef, a personal trainer, a guru, and an assistant.  Most people regard her as a highly enlightened woman.  But even she has trouble losing weight and keeping it off.

How liberating it would be to totally and honestly and wholly accept myself.  As women, we try too hard to fix this and that about ourselves without stopping to say, "I am OK just the way I am."  We try to change our hair color.  We try to cover up wrinkles or blemishes.  We try to squeeze into Spanx.  We go on diets.  And we take way too much medication, asking our doctors to prescribe this and that magic pill so we won't be moody or stressed.

It's a bunch of crap, girls.  We spend too much money and time trying to be someone we are not.  We are so full of denial.  We are liars.  Why can't we just accept who we really are?  

I had to get my license renewed last week.  I finally changed the weight on it.  I still lied, but I did add 30 pounds to the number.  I am getting there.  One step at a time, I will embrace who I am.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Being in love

So, Camp Cutchshaw was a bad idea.  In theory it was a good idea.  I tried.  I really did.  Summer surrounded by two teenage girls and three little kids sends me over the edge.  So I was going to be the fun mom and entertain everyone and keep everyone so busy with wholesome activities that no one would even have a small chance of driving me nuts.  Only, all my ideas ended up making them nuts which in turn made me nuts.

I had this great idea that we should all unplug from technology and get in touch with nature.  I also was convinced that we should learn to eat a more organic diet and I was ready to lay down the law that my children should eat what is served or go hungry.  With two picky eaters due to the weirdness of sensory issues that come along in the wonderful package of autism spectrum disorders, I was ready to nip all this crap in the bud.  Pioneer children ate what was served no matter what their particular issue was.  Why can't my kids do it? 

As the Camp Cutchshaw director, I was beginning to feel like the devil.  It's not in my nature to bark orders: "Get in line, clean your room, wake up and get your butt into the back yard and let me teach you the names of these tress over here.  And you WILL have fun.  This is called family bonding." 

I came up against such resistance that it wasn't remotely fun.  You can call me weak or a bad mom or whatever, but by the 3rd day I said, "Screw it." I briefly tried again followed by an epiphany that was so wonderful I almost could believe my luck.

I ignored my children for two days.  I only did what was life or death necessary to tend to them.  I did make sure they were alive from time to time and I did hand out Skittles when Nicholas went potty.  Other than that, I did my own thing.  I read a book.  I took a nap.  I took a walk.  I watched TV.  I stared out in space.  I ate almost an entire bag of pistachios.  I did some deep thinking and even some no thinking.  I just did whatever I felt like doing.  I even made a friendship bracelet because I had bought this awesome red string for one of my arts and crafts activities. 

And you know what happened?  Mollie and Nicholas picked out books and snuggled beside me and read while I was reading.  When I fell asleep, I felt Mollie's warm body cuddled up right beside me.  And when I made my bracelet, Fischer and Mollie asked me to teach them how to do it and they learned how to braid and macrame.  Jolie and Sydney got invited to go tubing down the Chattachoochee with some friends.  It was awesome.  The children were so quiet.  And they entertained themselves all day long.  I was just doing my own thing and they did theirs.  Nicholas spent hours lining up his Zhu Zhu pets, Littlest Pet Shops, and Hot Wheels.  Two days of calm has fallen over our house.  No plans.  No agendas.  No activities list to check off.  And no chores.

I was trying too hard to get back to nature.  Trying too hard to find peace in our daily lives.  Trying too hard to relax and unwind after a long, stressful school year.  Why do I do this?  It doesn't make sense.  Peace and tranquility are already here.  Zen is in the midst of changing diapers and folding laundry.  It is not in some faraway land and it does not cost money to get there.  You don't even need a guide or a guru.  I found Zen just eating my bag of pistachios, staring out in space, listening to the computer keys click quickly as my teenagers were sending messages on Facebook to their friends mixed in to the sounds of my son Fischer playing a Play Station game and Mollie and Nicholas squealing as they tried to catch the kittens on our porch.  It's here.

In whatever chaos is around me, I can smile and let go.  I don't have to be doing some important thing.  I can just give thanks to the universe for these precious children and the opportunity to be a mother.  Where I can receive the greatest education in the world.  I can walk on the path of enlightenment every day just because I am surrounded by these unique, creative beings who just count on me to love them.  I don't have to be one of those soccer moms who rush from one activity to the next.  I don't have to sign my children up for classes to make them become outstanding people.  We can just be.  We can just be.  We can open up the pressure vent and let it all out.  We can just be in love.  That's what my summer will be about.  We are just going to be in love.  And I am going to leave them alone as much as possible.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Honor Camper of the Day: Sydney

Posted by Sydney:

Camp Cutchshaw sucks.  Worst idea ever.  The end.

Posted by Abigail:

Can you see the resistance I am meeting?  It's day 4 and I've lost all control.  The TV is on.  Everyone has been on the computer.  I am not feeling very campy.  I am going to take the little kids to Vacation Bible School in a few minutes and hopefully find some inspiration to put one foot in front of the other.  I know this is materialistic but I am almost embarrassed to go to church looking like I do.  I got ready at 6:00 this morning and haven't freshened up since.

Nicholas had a little procedure this morning and had to be sedated.  He's feeling the affects of the medication wearing off and he's been so sweet and cuddly with intervals of violent outbursts.  He tried to choke Fischer about an hour ago.  Our dish washer broke last night, leaked through the ceiling and mildly flooded the laundry room downstairs.  I haven't even been able to clean up the water yet.  And it's been there nearly 24 hours.  I feel like I have spent the whole day preparing food and washing dishes by hand.  I am not used to doing this and have managed to break 2 of my new favorite coffee mugs.  I have been super busy all day long yet don't have much to show for it. 

The kids have been out of school since Friday and here it is Tuesday and they have already worn me out.  I have got to get it together.  How in the hell do the Duggars do it?  They have like 20 kids.  I only have 5.  I wish Michelle and Jim Bob would come over here and work their magic.  Teach me how to Duggar.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Honor Camper of the Day: Nicholas

Yesterday Nicholas went swimming for three hours with his brother, sisters, and me.  He learned how to jump into the deep end in while we were playing categories.  He was cute the way he refused to answer any category I called out.  For instance, when I called out, "Cartoon!"  He would run to the side of the pool and say, "No! Zhu Zhu Pet color."  And then he would run back to the bench.  Then he would run to the side of the pool and I would say, "Zhu Zhu pet color!" And he would yell, "Green!" and then he would jump in.  We did this for Hex Bug color and Hot Wheels color.  Over and over again.  And his answer was "green" every time. 

After we exhausted ourselves swimming in the 95 degree heat we came back home.  Adrian took Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer out for Mister Misties.  We played UNO with everyone before bedtime.  Nicholas did a great job matching colors and numbers and taking turns.  I think he had a great day.

PS No one is truly thrilled about Camp Cutchshaw. They all think I am pretty dumb.  (sigh)

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Honor Camper of the Day: Mollie

Post by Mollie:

When I woke up I was so surprised because there was Camp Cutchshaw.  And I had to eat an egg.  And I at least tried it.  And I really didn't want to eat it but I had to try it.  And I also had cinnamon toast but it kinda had too much butter.  At Camp Cutchshaw you have to eat what is served.  It kinda sucks that you have to do that.
Especially with pasta.  Because I hate pasta.  But we didn't have pasta.  That was awesome.

I spent the day outside playing with the kittens.  Even though they scratched me.  I washed it off and prayed and put three bandaids on it.  But even though the white one scratched me I still played with the kittens.  I just didn't try to pick up the white one.  And Sydney was the magical one.  I couldn't have gotten a kitten without her.  She can catch them very well.  She taught me her trick.  And the trick was that you needed the string to the volleyball net because it has the white thing.  Put the white thing in front of it and then as it gets closer and closer you pull it and when it gets close enough you scoop it up and then you have a kitten in your hand.

At night I caught some fireflies after my mom and I planted some flowers.  And last night we went to Wal Mart and to the car wash but I didn't want to because I wanted to stay outside.  But we got a lot of stuff and well I didn't really like that.  Because after we went there it was my bedtime and we didn't get to play outside any more.  And I really like playing outside.  But I didn't complain like everyone else.  But I still had a good time. 

That's all.

P.S. camp cutchshaw was a dumb idea just kidding no really

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Camp Cutchshaw Day 1

Welcome Campers!  Yesterday was the last day of school for three of my five children.  It was only a half day.  Afterwards, we loaded up in the van and drove to Su Su's house and jumped in the pool.  We swam and swam.  Later that evening, we went to Road Atlanta and walked for Relay for Life.  Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer got these funny light up glasses.  Luckily, no one had a seizure.  Those things should be outlawed.  The kids played in the bouncey house and Mollie and I went on a mad hunt for cotton candy.  It was a blast.  But the car ride home was looooooong!  We got home at 11:00 pm. 

Today is the first day of Camp Cutchshaw.  Each evening, one of our campers will post a blog about their day.  We will be unplugged from the phone, computers, TV, video games, etc...  We are going to get back to nature!  Ye Haw and Yipppee!

Friday, June 3, 2011

Crazy Cat Lady

A couple of months ago, a stray cat started wandering around our yard.  She was a scraggly thing.  I don't know much about cats, but I think her breed is called, "Ugly."  I don't know if she is some sort of calico but she looks more like a patch work quilt made by a blind person. I could tell she was pregnant but you could see her ribs.  She obviously once belonged to someone because she had good manners.  Even though I tried to discourage her from hanging out around our house, she was insistent that she belonged in our front yard near the driveway.  Even though she was obviously starving, I didn't run out to buy cat food hoping she would leave and go find someone else to beg from.  I refuse to be some sort of crazy cat lady.

Just having her in the yard made my eyes water.  I am allergic to cats.  I don't like them.  In fact, I kinda hate them.  I am more of a dog person but I even have my limits there.  I am basically not an animal lover.  I am more of a child person.  I love children.  That's why I have 5.  They are my pets. 

One afternoon as I was pulling into the driveway, coming back from picking up my children from school, I saw the scraggly Mama Cat leap into our broken down boat which has been sitting in our side yard collecting leaves and whatever the wind blows into it.  I hate that boat.  I was really mad at Adrian for buying that stupid thing.  I complain about it at least every other month pointing out what rednecks we are.  We may as well have a broken down car in the driveway.  Wait, we have that too.  We really are rednecks.

Any way, once I saw the Mama Cat jump into the boat, I knew that she was planning on having her babies in there.  I told Adrian but he didn't believe me. When he went to investigate, there was never any sign of the Mama Cat or any kittens.  This went on for a while.  But I watched the Mama Cat and realized she was going up inside the boat and I could hear little squeaks.  Holy crap.  There is a litter of kittens in our boat.

The Mama Cat stayed very busy.  She was hunting for her food.  She was good too.  I never knew we had little mice around our house but she sure did.  My kids watched her kill a bird or two.  For being so pitiful looking, she sure was an excellent hunter.  She looked so weak but in fact she was rather strong.  I started thinking about how as a mom, sometimes I feel the same way.  I may be pitiful sometimes, but I do whatever I have to do for my children.  I'd go hunt for food if I had too.  I may feel under qualified at times, but I always pull through.

Pretty soon, Mama Cat brought her babies into the sunshine.  She had six beautiful kittens.  Five black kitties and one white one.  They stayed inside the boat near the captain's chair.  She would hunt and nurse, hunt and nurse.  She looked like any new mother.  Ragged and worn out.  So, I broke down and went to buy cat food for the first time in my life.  I felt sorry for her.  I reasoned that it was only because she was nursing her babies.  I nursed all my babies too and I know how much that can wear you out.

Mama Cat was the most grateful cat.  She would smile at me when I'd bring her food and water.  She started hanging out at the boat with her kids for longer periods of time.  She would stretch out and soak up the sun.  She started gaining weight too.  She started to look a little less ugly.

I kept thinking, "Why in the world did this cat pick us?"  "Doesn't she know I hate cats?"  "Doesn't she know she is making my throat itch just being here?"  "I am so mad I have to find these kittens a home."

I called the animal shelter.  Please take these cats.  "There is no room."  There is no room at the Inn.  The shelter is full.  Sorry.  So I called the humane society.  They said they'd put them all to sleep.  For a fee.  Good Lord!  "Ma'am, I am sorry for saying this, but I think you should call your organization the Inhumane Society."

I started calling my friends.  Who wants a kitten?  Luckily, my friend Amy took two of them.  Their names are now Tarzan and Jane.  So we are down to just 4 kittens.

A few days ago, we saw Mama Cat jumping in and out of the boat.  She was teaching her children how to get out.  It has started getting very hot and they needed to go somewhere cooler. Three of the kittens stumbled out after their mother.  I don't know how she communicated with them, but they understood.  She took them to our porch.  And then she spent the rest of the day trying to coax the last kitty how to get out of the boat.  He wouldn't do it.  All day long and into the evening, Mama Cat went back and forth from the porch to the boat.  The one left behind, trembled on the edge of the boat for hours.  Finally, Sydney scooped up the kitten and brought him to his Mama.  He joined his siblings and began prancing around and playing.

We've all enjoyed watching the Mama Cat play with her kittens.  She is a good teacher.  She has taught them all to eat and drink out of the bowls we leave in the shade.  She lays on the porch and swishes her tail back and forth and lets them pounce on it.  The kittens love the sidewalk chalk my kids leave outside.  They stalk the chalk and then attack it.  The kittens jump off the porch and run to hide under it when we come outside.  They peak their cute little heads up and watch us.  All you can see are their little ears.

I don't know what will come of all of this.  I heard through the neighborhood grapevine that this cat belongs to someone who has let her have ten litters of kittens.  I am thinking she adopted us hoping we would love her.  She hasn't met Bailey our dog yet, but I am thinking they might become friends.  I guess we'll take her to the vet and get her taken care of and bring her back here to live the good life.  Hopefully we'll find homes for all her babies.  But if we don't, I may become the crazy cat lady after all.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Camp Cutchshaw

This time next week school will be out for my public school kids.  Sydney and Nicholas are already out.  So, two down, three to go.  I must say my stomach is in knots.  Have you read any of my posts about last summer?  I feel the anxiety building up already.  It is just not fun to live with teenagers.  It ain't no picnic.  Especially if you are poor and live in the middle of nowhere.  If I was rich, I would send them away to summer camp. 

I consider myself to be somewhat creative.  I try to think of wholesome free activities that will entertain a 5 year old as well as a 17 year old.  It's not easy.  And when all seven of us travel in the van together all hell usually breaks loose.  When Adrian is driving, he just takes out his hearing aids and tunes pretty much all of it out.  With a tube in my ear, I can now hear quite well and sometimes their squeaking and complaining sends nerve pain straight to my brain like an abscessed tooth.

So, this summer with the exception of the family beach trip, I am vowing to stay close to home.  We are going to have a "Flintlock Camp Summer." 

Flintlock is where I spent a month every summer as a child for 7 years.  I loved it.  We performed skits.  We sang songs.  We swam in a muddy lake.  We took horseback riding lessons.  We played cards.  We played softball and kickball.  We did arts and crafts.  We learned about nature.  We slept in platform tents in the middle of the woods.  We hiked a lot.  We woke up early and stayed busy until the sun went down.  We stayed outside all the time. 

There was one break in the day called rest hour.  Every day after lunch, we took a nap for one hour.  Even if you didn't sleep, you had to be quiet.  No talking was allowed.  You could read books or write letters.  We ate all of our meals family style.  As children, my sisters and I were all picky eaters, but by golly we ate whatever was served at camp because if you didn't eat it, you went hungry.  I am looking forward to teaching that lesson to my children this summer most of all.  I am already gathering my camp food recipes.  Beginning June 3, we are going on the Flintlock Camp diet. 

With two children who register on the weird-o meter, or in better terms, the Autism Spectrum Disorder, I know all too well about picky eaters.  It's a sensory issue.  However, I don't think back in the pioneer days, folks had sensory integration dysfunction.  If they didn't like the texture of the animal that was turning over a spit fire, or the beans in the crock, or the biscuits mama cut, then they starved and died I guess.  I don't think my children will want to starve, so they are going to have to learn the hard way to eat what is served.  No more Lucky Charms for dinner at the Cutchshaw's house.  I don't care how magically delicious they are.

As picky as I was at eating as a child, I always ate so much at camp.  There were never ending bowls of creamed corn, beans, apple sauce, potatoes, and country fried steak.  There was cream of wheat at breakfast along with corned beef hash.  There were grits, bread pudding, oatmeal, and peanut butter sandwiches with apple jelly.  And we always, always had dessert if we ate our meal.  We had peach cobbler, blueberry cobbler, chocolate cake, or Apple Brown Betty.  We drank bug juice, water, or tea, depending what was in the pitcher.  I am drooling just thinking about it.

All the campers had to help.  Each day, a tent was assigned mess hall duty.  We cleaned the tables.  We set the tables.  We swept and mopped the floor.  Each table had a designate waiter.  There was a pass through from the kitchen and the cook would refill whatever empty bowl the waiter would bring up and she would then carry it back to her table.  We ate and ate until we were full.  And then we did not eat until the next meal.  Period.  There were no snacks.

We all stayed skinny little kids.  If you were chubby, you lost weight while at camp.  It was probably from all the hiking.  Just going from the lake to the barn was quite hike.  And I believe the sunshine made us all happy.  Large doses of good ole vitamin D did us a world of good.  Better than staying inside playing video games.  We didn't even have electricity at camp except in a few buildings like the mess hall.  No TV.  No radios.  No computers.  For an entire month.  It did wonders for our little inner clocks.  It was so good for our brains.

So, I hope my ideas are good enough to help me press forward through any of the resistance I suspect I will get.  I think my little kids will love it but it's those teenagers I worry about.  So, since Jolie will be 17, she's going to be our counselor.  And Sydney who will be 15, she's going to be our cabin girl, or counselor in training.  I will put them in charge of most of the activities. 

I can't wait to sit in the front yard and see talent night performed on our front porch.  I can't wait to see our children put on skits that they make up.  I look forward to camp fires in our back yard bonfire pit and singing all the songs from camp.  We are going to get dirty.  We are going to play in the river.  We are going to swim and ride horses.  We are going to unplug our lives from the computer and television.  I'll update my blog, but I am going to cut myself free from Facebook.  We are going to read books at rest hour.  We might even have chapel in the woods on Sundays by candlelight. And we might just have the best summer ever!