I don't let my kids watch wrestling on TV even hough Jake the Snake used to go to church with us when he was married to my friend, Cheryl. My parents never let my brothers and I watch the Three Stooges on TV because they were fairly sure we'd copy them and poke each other's eyes out on a regular basis.
I monitor tv shows and rarely even rent movies because they are mainly R rated and I won't have that in my house even if it is only rated R for the cuss words. I know my kids hear cuss words at school but heck I can't protect them ALL the time. My mother always said that cussing shows that someone has a limited vocabulary. The policeman that I worked with in a dangerous high school told me I'd feel better if I'd learn to cuss. Sometimes I'd be so aggravated at work that I'd just sputter and fume while Officer Mike helpfully supplied the words he thought I was thinking. I pointed out that school employess were not allowed to cuss in front of the kids, he claimed he was bound by state law not imbecilic school policy as he cussed like a sailor and the kids scampered away. These crackhead high school kids acted like choir boys around Officer Mike because he was so volatile and explosive but he did make me feel safe at school.
So my sons live isolated down a dirt road, go to a fairly calm and quiet rural school, go to church and are not fed a steady diet of violent shows or video games.
But take them up to our pool, let them loose and run for cover. Sonny will get a running start and slam unsuspecting kids into the pool. Anyone within 10 feet of the edge is fair game. EVERYONE is pushed in except Big Mama here. I dare them to even think about it. Edgar slung me over the edge once but caught me before I hit the water. Little kids push big kids, alliances are formed and broken, teams are chosen, and it often looks like a dozen or so Jackie Chan extras kicking and swinging their arms. Some jump in before being pushed only to swim to the other side and sneak back for an attack, other act like they are just picking their nose or examining a fingernail and then WHAM they strike. Some manage to take 4 others in with them. To sum it up, we have a large pool that looks like white water because it is so churned up the entire time we are in it.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Tomatoes
If I were half as good a gardener as I think I am then I wouldn't have to wait until June 27th for the first tomato. But again I'll blame the kids. If I weren't so dadgum busy 24-7 feeding these young'uns and cleaning up after them, I'd have enough "free" time to get my garden started earlier...or at least on time.
But the four tomatoes that I ate today were worth waiting for. Ate some blueberries also. Just stood there and stuffed my mouth while sweating like a pig in the 100% humidity.
After the kids swam all afternoon I went back out and planted some muskmelon seeds. They won't be ready until September but all my other fruits will be giving out by then and I'll be hankering for these melons. I planted an heirloom variety called Hale's Best Jumbo. I'll save their seeds for next year's fruit garden. A thunderstorm drove us inside. I caught Scotty trying to wait out the storm under a metal wheelbarrow in the 9 tons of sand. He's only been here 4 months so the dangers of a thunderstorm are not in his brain yet.
My Zebrina mallow flowers are spinging up everywhere since they are a self-seeder and even my calla lilies are putting on a show. Yolie carried callas when she married Chuck who I adore so I'll always think of their wedding when I admire my callas.
Monica had bought an inflatable pool for Ray so Joey blew it up and we took it up poolside. After filling it with our freezing cold straight-out-of-the-ground wellwater it was uninhabitable. Joey had just pulled a turtle out of the big pool so Ray was way more interested in it and the small frog that was riding on its back. Teresa ran and picked some lettuce to feed the turtle but the kids are so loud that the turtle couldn't or wouldn't even chew. Sarah took it home to her quiet pond that has a concrete alligator peering out of it with a large bullfrog often riding on its head. The turtle now is called Winnifred.
I soaked my dirty garden feet in the inflatable and left a ring around the tub.
While Ray ignored his fancy new baby pool I reminisced with Sarah about the year that I had grown so many potatoes that we would dig them for breakfast. There is nothing on this earth so melt-in-your-mouth delicious as fresh dug new potatoes. I rarely grow them anymore due to my time constraints but I think I'll plant a bed full of them next year. At age 51 I can almost believe that I'll not have any more babies or toddlers and will have more garden time than I have had in the last 3+ decades of child rearing. Even Tabby will be three years old by next season. Today she kept picking the red blackberries that were not yet ripe and screaming, "Strawberries!!!"
Sabrina ate her first ever blueberries today and swooned with joy. How can you be ten years old and not have had fresh blueberries? Thank you foster care system and neglectful birth parents once again for your thoughlessness and poor choices.
Chuy is checking the fig bushes everyday but they aren't ready yet. At Publix I found an itty bitty plastic basket with 8 figs in it for $6.99. At that price I grow about a million dollars worth of fresh brown turkey figs. We eat them all right off the bushes so I have planted another dozen bushes so I will soon be able to make fig preserves.
I used to can and freeze but as the babies and toddlers kept knocking on my door I ran out of time. That too is a part of my life that I want to reclaim soon.
But the four tomatoes that I ate today were worth waiting for. Ate some blueberries also. Just stood there and stuffed my mouth while sweating like a pig in the 100% humidity.
After the kids swam all afternoon I went back out and planted some muskmelon seeds. They won't be ready until September but all my other fruits will be giving out by then and I'll be hankering for these melons. I planted an heirloom variety called Hale's Best Jumbo. I'll save their seeds for next year's fruit garden. A thunderstorm drove us inside. I caught Scotty trying to wait out the storm under a metal wheelbarrow in the 9 tons of sand. He's only been here 4 months so the dangers of a thunderstorm are not in his brain yet.
My Zebrina mallow flowers are spinging up everywhere since they are a self-seeder and even my calla lilies are putting on a show. Yolie carried callas when she married Chuck who I adore so I'll always think of their wedding when I admire my callas.
Monica had bought an inflatable pool for Ray so Joey blew it up and we took it up poolside. After filling it with our freezing cold straight-out-of-the-ground wellwater it was uninhabitable. Joey had just pulled a turtle out of the big pool so Ray was way more interested in it and the small frog that was riding on its back. Teresa ran and picked some lettuce to feed the turtle but the kids are so loud that the turtle couldn't or wouldn't even chew. Sarah took it home to her quiet pond that has a concrete alligator peering out of it with a large bullfrog often riding on its head. The turtle now is called Winnifred.
I soaked my dirty garden feet in the inflatable and left a ring around the tub.
While Ray ignored his fancy new baby pool I reminisced with Sarah about the year that I had grown so many potatoes that we would dig them for breakfast. There is nothing on this earth so melt-in-your-mouth delicious as fresh dug new potatoes. I rarely grow them anymore due to my time constraints but I think I'll plant a bed full of them next year. At age 51 I can almost believe that I'll not have any more babies or toddlers and will have more garden time than I have had in the last 3+ decades of child rearing. Even Tabby will be three years old by next season. Today she kept picking the red blackberries that were not yet ripe and screaming, "Strawberries!!!"
Sabrina ate her first ever blueberries today and swooned with joy. How can you be ten years old and not have had fresh blueberries? Thank you foster care system and neglectful birth parents once again for your thoughlessness and poor choices.
Chuy is checking the fig bushes everyday but they aren't ready yet. At Publix I found an itty bitty plastic basket with 8 figs in it for $6.99. At that price I grow about a million dollars worth of fresh brown turkey figs. We eat them all right off the bushes so I have planted another dozen bushes so I will soon be able to make fig preserves.
I used to can and freeze but as the babies and toddlers kept knocking on my door I ran out of time. That too is a part of my life that I want to reclaim soon.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Being a Real Vegan?
Since Sunday School got out early this morning Sarah and I had a few childless minutes in which to talk.
So we talked about being a vegan and decided that we probably couldn't do so. Who wants to worry about egg products in bread? Just as I think that a low carb diet is stupider and even less healthy than let's say a vodka diet, I think life without eggs or dairy products would be trying even for me. Sarah has replaced milk with soy milk but who could live without cheese? I'd lick my dirt road clean for a slice of pepper jack cheese.
All that said, I still want to increase my plant based food intake. I suppose I'll go from 5 pounds of veggies each day into the tonnage realm.
Sarah remembers the time I ate my 5 pound bucket of blueberries and then lifted her restrictions (due to some long-forgotten infraction of the rules) IF she'd share her bucket of blueberries. So glad was she to get phone priviliges back that she gave me the entire bucket which I promptly ate. Even my cast iron plumbing rebels at 10 pounds of blueberries in one morning's time. So I got made at her for making me eat so much. There is only a 19 year age difference between us, sometimes it totally evaporates and I'm less mature than her. She is probably snickering at the word sometimes.
Another time when Sergi was a little boy he swore he'd vomit if I made him eat the spinach quiche. Well I made him clean his plate and he did neatly vomit the spinch quiche back on to that formerly clean plate. However in the garden with me he gobbled up fresh leaves of spinach. He told me in foster care that they only ate baloney sandwiches and kool-aid. Good food must have been quite a shock to his system. His sister, Gina, angered me further by telling me that the foster mom cooked regular food for the real family but the foster kids got the baloney crap.
Then I wonder how I ever thought that my real family could easily repair the damage inflicted on my now real children by the birth families and the foster care system. And don't even get me started on the social workers that won't answer their phones nor return messages or emails when i have waiting families wanting to adopt children and make them REAL.
The Braves will really sweep the Orioles this afternoon. Since it is 8-1 in the 9th inning and John Smoltz is pitching, this is an easy and comforting thought.
So we talked about being a vegan and decided that we probably couldn't do so. Who wants to worry about egg products in bread? Just as I think that a low carb diet is stupider and even less healthy than let's say a vodka diet, I think life without eggs or dairy products would be trying even for me. Sarah has replaced milk with soy milk but who could live without cheese? I'd lick my dirt road clean for a slice of pepper jack cheese.
All that said, I still want to increase my plant based food intake. I suppose I'll go from 5 pounds of veggies each day into the tonnage realm.
Sarah remembers the time I ate my 5 pound bucket of blueberries and then lifted her restrictions (due to some long-forgotten infraction of the rules) IF she'd share her bucket of blueberries. So glad was she to get phone priviliges back that she gave me the entire bucket which I promptly ate. Even my cast iron plumbing rebels at 10 pounds of blueberries in one morning's time. So I got made at her for making me eat so much. There is only a 19 year age difference between us, sometimes it totally evaporates and I'm less mature than her. She is probably snickering at the word sometimes.
Another time when Sergi was a little boy he swore he'd vomit if I made him eat the spinach quiche. Well I made him clean his plate and he did neatly vomit the spinch quiche back on to that formerly clean plate. However in the garden with me he gobbled up fresh leaves of spinach. He told me in foster care that they only ate baloney sandwiches and kool-aid. Good food must have been quite a shock to his system. His sister, Gina, angered me further by telling me that the foster mom cooked regular food for the real family but the foster kids got the baloney crap.
Then I wonder how I ever thought that my real family could easily repair the damage inflicted on my now real children by the birth families and the foster care system. And don't even get me started on the social workers that won't answer their phones nor return messages or emails when i have waiting families wanting to adopt children and make them REAL.
The Braves will really sweep the Orioles this afternoon. Since it is 8-1 in the 9th inning and John Smoltz is pitching, this is an easy and comforting thought.
37 out of 39
That was really nice Saturday to have 37 out of 39 of my kids at home. All the grandbabies were here. This was also the day that Alyssa (almost 8 months old) played with the phone in their apartment and accidently called 911. Joe had policemen banging on his door wanting to check out the apartment.
Gianni, Heidi and Isaac put on a show being so cute. Saray and Marcela both looked so happy but I gotta say that Deysi was glowing. Carlos brought his family over for the first time and there were 5 of them reminding me of Bill Cosby's thought that your kids grow up, leave home and then come back with even more people. Our family astounds me with growth. T brought his sister proving that even the in-laws bring more people back with them. When Preson's nephews are in town, they're also over here with us.
As usual Sarah and Yolie were huge helps to me. Speaking of huge Yolie was about to explode with child but she kept jumping up to make 'go plates' as people left. Sarah has taken over Grandma's role as hostess with the mostest in the kitchen. Maybe Sarah will blog about her black bean dip. Alex tore up the house last night hunting for more until I broke the news to her that Sarah had taken it home with her. Cristy made a Peruvian dish that she'll have to describe herself.
Carlos's family brought Pastel de Tres Leches and it was out of this world. I am not a purist with my plant based diet and I had 4 pieces of that cake.
We could have had so much drama but we didn't. Thank God as that stuff wears me out.
My new kids were emotionally worn out afterwards.
Our next big event will be CJ's birth although Jack is turning five this Wednesday.
Gianni, Heidi and Isaac put on a show being so cute. Saray and Marcela both looked so happy but I gotta say that Deysi was glowing. Carlos brought his family over for the first time and there were 5 of them reminding me of Bill Cosby's thought that your kids grow up, leave home and then come back with even more people. Our family astounds me with growth. T brought his sister proving that even the in-laws bring more people back with them. When Preson's nephews are in town, they're also over here with us.
As usual Sarah and Yolie were huge helps to me. Speaking of huge Yolie was about to explode with child but she kept jumping up to make 'go plates' as people left. Sarah has taken over Grandma's role as hostess with the mostest in the kitchen. Maybe Sarah will blog about her black bean dip. Alex tore up the house last night hunting for more until I broke the news to her that Sarah had taken it home with her. Cristy made a Peruvian dish that she'll have to describe herself.
Carlos's family brought Pastel de Tres Leches and it was out of this world. I am not a purist with my plant based diet and I had 4 pieces of that cake.
We could have had so much drama but we didn't. Thank God as that stuff wears me out.
My new kids were emotionally worn out afterwards.
Our next big event will be CJ's birth although Jack is turning five this Wednesday.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Food as Fuel
Wonder what makes Sarah and I so obsessed about food? My other kids lived with lack all their lives in birth family homes and in foster care so their deep concern about food is understandable. One time we were at a beach house with my parents and Gito came unglued because there was only 2 refrigerators there and we were actually down to only 2 gallons of milk. Gito equated that to the end of the world as we know it. I remember my mom staring at him like he had just catapulted his alien being self down from Jupiter. Gito was practically hysterical. He'd only lived with me, at that time, for five months and was still unsure that he would be provided for at all times.
In 9th grade which would have been around 1968, my health teacher, Mrs. Winslow, did a unit on vitamins and I was immediately hooked on the concept of food as fuel. In 1968 the world was absolutely a crazy time. We all felt like we were on the cusp of something about to explode. I'm not even going to make this blog about that era as this is not a history lesson. Mrs. Winslow was a very prim and proper, hair in a French twist, skirt, nylons and peter pan collar kind of a woman when hippies were all the rage.
Mrs. Winslow had her shiny patent leather pumps planted firmly in the 1950s.
Yet as she listed the vitamins and their capabilities on the blackboard in our un-air-conditioned classroom, I totally forgot about all the other events of that decade.
My own 1950s mother served us fish sticks, canned corn and fruit cocktail for dinner. I got a copy of Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, Diet for a Small Planet by Frances Moore Lappe and Let's Get Well by Adele Davis and my food mentality was forever revolutionized. My mom went all over Hampton, Virginia, where we then lived, after I told her I wanted to eat the then unheard of food item...yogurt. One store actually carried it but it was 20 cents a carton so I was rationed to one a day.
Reading Sarah's blog on frozen spinach reminded me that I would then eat the whole block of spinach as a snack. I'd cook it up and drizzle it with white vinegar and grated cheese. In the 1970s I discovered Nutritional Yeast which I have used ever since on much of my food.
I remember using one of my first Georgia schoolteacher paychecks to buy my own vitamins and spending $60.00 out of the $511 monthly paycheck of 1977. However I have faithfully taken vitamins nearly everyday for 30 years and I am living proof of the benfits as I am as healthy as a horse despite living through 25 years in the public school system to say NOTHING of the stress level involved in raising 39 children...38 adopted from difficult circumstances. I weigh nearly the same as ever and I still have all my hair and teeth.
Speaking of teeth, I have managed to go my entire life without cavities except for one tiny one the year (1981) that I defied good sense and chewed Doublemint gum for some now forgotten reason.
When my food life was re-directed in 1968 I had no idea that I was just five years away from having my first of many children.
My parents didn't have much money back then so meat was scarce which turned out to be a plus for me. When I decided way back then to eliminate meat from my diet I never missed it. Still don't miss it. We never drank sodas growing up so, once again, no sacrifice for me to get rid of that also. I didn't realize for many years how often my mom served fruit and vegetables to us as children.
As a child, I resented having to stop what I was doing and come inside and eat. I still feel that way fifty years later. I was on an extended fast many years ago and it was astonishing to me to realize how much time we put in food preparation. When I was fasting there was a tremendous amount of freed-up time. Since that is not a full-time feasible alternative I look for ways to use food as fuel so at least I'll make good use of my time in the kitchen.
In 9th grade which would have been around 1968, my health teacher, Mrs. Winslow, did a unit on vitamins and I was immediately hooked on the concept of food as fuel. In 1968 the world was absolutely a crazy time. We all felt like we were on the cusp of something about to explode. I'm not even going to make this blog about that era as this is not a history lesson. Mrs. Winslow was a very prim and proper, hair in a French twist, skirt, nylons and peter pan collar kind of a woman when hippies were all the rage.
Mrs. Winslow had her shiny patent leather pumps planted firmly in the 1950s.
Yet as she listed the vitamins and their capabilities on the blackboard in our un-air-conditioned classroom, I totally forgot about all the other events of that decade.
My own 1950s mother served us fish sticks, canned corn and fruit cocktail for dinner. I got a copy of Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, Diet for a Small Planet by Frances Moore Lappe and Let's Get Well by Adele Davis and my food mentality was forever revolutionized. My mom went all over Hampton, Virginia, where we then lived, after I told her I wanted to eat the then unheard of food item...yogurt. One store actually carried it but it was 20 cents a carton so I was rationed to one a day.
Reading Sarah's blog on frozen spinach reminded me that I would then eat the whole block of spinach as a snack. I'd cook it up and drizzle it with white vinegar and grated cheese. In the 1970s I discovered Nutritional Yeast which I have used ever since on much of my food.
I remember using one of my first Georgia schoolteacher paychecks to buy my own vitamins and spending $60.00 out of the $511 monthly paycheck of 1977. However I have faithfully taken vitamins nearly everyday for 30 years and I am living proof of the benfits as I am as healthy as a horse despite living through 25 years in the public school system to say NOTHING of the stress level involved in raising 39 children...38 adopted from difficult circumstances. I weigh nearly the same as ever and I still have all my hair and teeth.
Speaking of teeth, I have managed to go my entire life without cavities except for one tiny one the year (1981) that I defied good sense and chewed Doublemint gum for some now forgotten reason.
When my food life was re-directed in 1968 I had no idea that I was just five years away from having my first of many children.
My parents didn't have much money back then so meat was scarce which turned out to be a plus for me. When I decided way back then to eliminate meat from my diet I never missed it. Still don't miss it. We never drank sodas growing up so, once again, no sacrifice for me to get rid of that also. I didn't realize for many years how often my mom served fruit and vegetables to us as children.
As a child, I resented having to stop what I was doing and come inside and eat. I still feel that way fifty years later. I was on an extended fast many years ago and it was astonishing to me to realize how much time we put in food preparation. When I was fasting there was a tremendous amount of freed-up time. Since that is not a full-time feasible alternative I look for ways to use food as fuel so at least I'll make good use of my time in the kitchen.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Falling Down
Jack comes in crying that he fell down. I ask, "What'd you hit?" fearing he busted his lip back open. He cries, "the GROUND!"
Chuy is sitting in front of me entertaining Tabby while 4 or 5 kids argue down the hall about a stupid movie that they haven't even seen.
Which reminds me...Joe told me that I HAD to see the movie, "Supersize Me". I so rarely see a movie. I saw "Titanic" and "Ray".
Andruw Jones just hit his 21st homerun of the year and it was a monster hit pulverized into the upper level of Turner Field into the Lexus Pavillion. Whoa! I've written several blogs while being totally distracted by this game tonight.
So I rented "Supersize Me" but it took me 3 weeks of watching bits and pieces until I finished the movie and I absolutely loved it. It fit right in with my world view of fast food. I am usually way to restless to watch a movie but this one was fascinating. So now I am reading The Food Revolution by John Robbins (heir to the Baskin Robbins Co. This too feeds my fear of all food that is higher on the food chain of being processed. Yuck.
But I DID hyperlink my ownself finally tonight.
Chuy is sitting in front of me entertaining Tabby while 4 or 5 kids argue down the hall about a stupid movie that they haven't even seen.
Which reminds me...Joe told me that I HAD to see the movie, "Supersize Me". I so rarely see a movie. I saw "Titanic" and "Ray".
Andruw Jones just hit his 21st homerun of the year and it was a monster hit pulverized into the upper level of Turner Field into the Lexus Pavillion. Whoa! I've written several blogs while being totally distracted by this game tonight.
So I rented "Supersize Me" but it took me 3 weeks of watching bits and pieces until I finished the movie and I absolutely loved it. It fit right in with my world view of fast food. I am usually way to restless to watch a movie but this one was fascinating. So now I am reading The Food Revolution by John Robbins (heir to the Baskin Robbins Co. This too feeds my fear of all food that is higher on the food chain of being processed. Yuck.
But I DID hyperlink my ownself finally tonight.
In Bloom
Next winter I'm going to go back and re-read these blogs and remember the ballgame where Raphael Furcal earned his pay. But, more importantly, I will read and remember what was in bloom on June 22nd. I have daylilies, calla lilies, canna lilies, butterfly bushes, hydrangeas, cleome, roses (of course), nicotianas, rudbeckias, thunbergias, Sweet William and snapdragons (still due to a mild summer so far), verbenas, four o'clocks, gardenias, glads, dumb ole petunias and platycodens. This from memory as I sit on the sofa.
My Other Point That I lost Last Night
Besides being obsessed with growing the usual vegetables I really love growing fruits. I have been successful with blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, muscadine and scuppernong grapes, pears, peaches, cataloupes, watermelons, figs and thornless blackberries. Apples are iffy here as it is too hot but if you spit out a peach pit you're liable to soon have a peach tree.
Next to fruits are fragrant flowers like gardenias, roses, four o'clocks, certain daffodils, hyacinths, and various lilies. Lavender which isn't a flower but is necessary in my garden. Honeysuckle, jasmine and wisteria plus magnolias can knock my socks off.
Early this morning when I was weeding the strawberry beds and eating raspberries and blackberries I allowed my mind to consider that in maybe 15 more years I could be caught up in my garden. All the beds would be weeded, the flowers deadheaded and the soil properly ammended. I have never been caught up or satisfied with my gardens.
When the Biggers (Yolie, Deysi, Saray, Marcela, Gina and Cristy) still lived at home I'd go outside with my turbocharged coffee each morning and work all day. They'd straighten up the house and poot around with each other. They grew up, Sarah had long been gone so what'd I do? Adopt an awful lot of little kids. Now I can barely walk outside without making arrangements for someone to keep their eyes on Tabby, someone to referee and someone to answer the phone. Then I come in and the house is trashed and everyone is hungry. If I am lucky I get to stay outside for an hour not uninterrupted.
The Braves just turned a beautiful double play...who needs Chipper Jones?
Next to fruits are fragrant flowers like gardenias, roses, four o'clocks, certain daffodils, hyacinths, and various lilies. Lavender which isn't a flower but is necessary in my garden. Honeysuckle, jasmine and wisteria plus magnolias can knock my socks off.
Early this morning when I was weeding the strawberry beds and eating raspberries and blackberries I allowed my mind to consider that in maybe 15 more years I could be caught up in my garden. All the beds would be weeded, the flowers deadheaded and the soil properly ammended. I have never been caught up or satisfied with my gardens.
When the Biggers (Yolie, Deysi, Saray, Marcela, Gina and Cristy) still lived at home I'd go outside with my turbocharged coffee each morning and work all day. They'd straighten up the house and poot around with each other. They grew up, Sarah had long been gone so what'd I do? Adopt an awful lot of little kids. Now I can barely walk outside without making arrangements for someone to keep their eyes on Tabby, someone to referee and someone to answer the phone. Then I come in and the house is trashed and everyone is hungry. If I am lucky I get to stay outside for an hour not uninterrupted.
The Braves just turned a beautiful double play...who needs Chipper Jones?
Braves Game Tonight
Daniel and his friends got to go to the Braves Game tonight since the outfield seats were half price. He's sitting in right field but you can't see him due to Brian Jordan's massive calf muscles. I'm watching the game on TV. Another time when Daniel was there he caught a foul ball and was on TV.
I'm wondering how he'll stay awake after wrestling the Bubbas all afternoon in the pool and then being a human motor boat for little Aylssa.
Last night I sat on the sofa with Daniel happily blogging away about my fantastic crop of raspberries. When I went to publish it, I lost my server connection and thusly my post. I ALWAYS carry on to Daniel who NEVER listens but just lets me hoot and holler until I'm done. I was so aggravated that I just went back outside until dark and ate my weight once again in raspberries. That was my point last night also. Nutritionists suggest that we eat 5-7 servings of fruit and vegetables each day. I measure my consumption not in servings but in pounds. I eat tons of fruit and vegetables, staying under the radar, eating very low on the food chain where I am happiest. When the kids are grown I hope I never cook again but I will just graze through the garden eating what's in season.
I'll have to increase my production of Edamame Soybeans which I'll steam and salt.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Making Our Mark
EVERYTHING in our home is a challenge, an argument, a trash-talking event, an unheated debate, a fuss, a fight, a loud discussion and/or guffaws. There are rarely any hard feelings either, everyone blows everything off. There is an over-abundance of laughter, giggling and just plain cracking up over every minor word or gesture.
Pool time involves wrestling, pushing, overturned pool furniture, laughing, hooting and hollering. There is not a single neighborhood in the US where we'd be welcome. Somewhere in Baghdad they might not notice our noise level what with the bombs and all, but here we can drown out sirens, tornadoes and other major decibels.
There are 18 boys still at home but it is the scrappy seven sisters who probably deserve the merit badges. Little Paloma today was successfully tackling much older brothers and sending them flying into the pool initially unaware that she was even full steam into a head butt. Sabrina took down Jose; and Teresa, born sneaky and deceitful, puts those yucky character traits to good use during pool warfare.
The aggression, the testosterone and the destructiveness here is staggering. Sofas are considered disposable in our family. We shop at yard sales but could never host one as there's nothing left to sell, bury , or even haul off to the landfill. Oftentimes there are only splinters where there once was a table. Slats fly out from under beds, ceiling fixtures are for swinging on like jungle vines and dresser drawers have a life expectancy that is numbered in days or weeks only. The stair bannister to the boy's upstairs hall disappeared leaving only toggle bolt holes in the wall. Towel rack, shower curtain rods and cabinet doors are all fair game...victims all of over-aggressive arms. Hinges snap, door knobs come off in one's hands and screens spring off their frames magically each season. Washers and dryers last on the average just two years each. It's called dog years here due to the constant, unrelenting wear and tear. Refridgerator shelves are climbed up and snapped off, oven door handles are hanging by a screw and, as I write, the revolving glass circular tray in the microwave just got dropped and broken.
Even clothes can't be handed down as we are all so tough on them. A nice Gap shirt from Goodwill can be worn by all 3 third grade boys but after one school year it is only threads and fibers barely attached to each other.
My house should have been built of cement with big drains in the floor to hose down and flush. It probably wouldn't take the kids that long to learn what time each day that the big flush would occur. They could easily scramble out of the way.
This afternoon Jose landed on Sonny's ankle while they wrestled down the stairs from our pool on the hill. The loud POP was scary but after an X-Ray Sonny is in an air cast and on crutches for just two weeks. Even tendons and ligaments are at risk here with the boys unable to discuss anything without being involved physically at some level.
My brother Jim once told me not to bother shopping for a new van but, rather, why not just buy an ambulance?
Pool time involves wrestling, pushing, overturned pool furniture, laughing, hooting and hollering. There is not a single neighborhood in the US where we'd be welcome. Somewhere in Baghdad they might not notice our noise level what with the bombs and all, but here we can drown out sirens, tornadoes and other major decibels.
There are 18 boys still at home but it is the scrappy seven sisters who probably deserve the merit badges. Little Paloma today was successfully tackling much older brothers and sending them flying into the pool initially unaware that she was even full steam into a head butt. Sabrina took down Jose; and Teresa, born sneaky and deceitful, puts those yucky character traits to good use during pool warfare.
The aggression, the testosterone and the destructiveness here is staggering. Sofas are considered disposable in our family. We shop at yard sales but could never host one as there's nothing left to sell, bury , or even haul off to the landfill. Oftentimes there are only splinters where there once was a table. Slats fly out from under beds, ceiling fixtures are for swinging on like jungle vines and dresser drawers have a life expectancy that is numbered in days or weeks only. The stair bannister to the boy's upstairs hall disappeared leaving only toggle bolt holes in the wall. Towel rack, shower curtain rods and cabinet doors are all fair game...victims all of over-aggressive arms. Hinges snap, door knobs come off in one's hands and screens spring off their frames magically each season. Washers and dryers last on the average just two years each. It's called dog years here due to the constant, unrelenting wear and tear. Refridgerator shelves are climbed up and snapped off, oven door handles are hanging by a screw and, as I write, the revolving glass circular tray in the microwave just got dropped and broken.
Even clothes can't be handed down as we are all so tough on them. A nice Gap shirt from Goodwill can be worn by all 3 third grade boys but after one school year it is only threads and fibers barely attached to each other.
My house should have been built of cement with big drains in the floor to hose down and flush. It probably wouldn't take the kids that long to learn what time each day that the big flush would occur. They could easily scramble out of the way.
This afternoon Jose landed on Sonny's ankle while they wrestled down the stairs from our pool on the hill. The loud POP was scary but after an X-Ray Sonny is in an air cast and on crutches for just two weeks. Even tendons and ligaments are at risk here with the boys unable to discuss anything without being involved physically at some level.
My brother Jim once told me not to bother shopping for a new van but, rather, why not just buy an ambulance?
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Eating
Undoubtedly Sarah went home, after an afternoon at the pool wrestling with her fat baby Ray, and made a gourmet supper. I ate the leftovers of her eggplant dish from the other night and I actually swooned.
I, on the other hand, soaked and then cooked ten pound of pinto beans for tonight's supper. My kids know with certaintity that I can cook a great pot of spicy beans that we mash up with garlic to make tacos, tostados, enchillados, nachos and/or burritos. It is EVERYONE'S favorite meal at our house. Tonight Javy ate 12 tacos, little Fernando (age 3) ate 3 large tostados, Jackie ate 4 and washed them down with two cups of milk, everyone else ate their usual 6-12 EACH! I'm glad that I sleep upstairs. (Sarah you need to hyperlink farts.com here).
A big thunderstorm is blowing up right now and our power is flickering. I'll probably lose this blog when the power totally shuts off. Living down a dirt road we constantly lose our power which stinks literally as we then lose our pumping capabilities. Dern...no flushing, no drinking, no washing, etc.
But we already all got clean in the pool this afternoon. Little Alyssa got to float in the arms of her daddy Joe with a big smile on her face for an hour or so. Then Joe also went to Bubbaville unable to resist the urge to wrestle with Joey. Yes I have several sons named Jose but they are nicknamed Joe, Joey, JoJo, Big Jose and little Jose. Little Jose is also Pepe. And he really isn't very little. Big Joe is 22, Joey is 17, Jojo is 8, Little Jose is 10 and Big Jose is 31.
I didn't get to name them but I got to raise them.
Yolie's feet are still swollen.
My blog is basically a series of family notes and this thought does not have to be germaine to the rest of the blog as most of my thoughts are random and way out there anyway.
I'm shutting down...HUGE storm crashing around us. No speelcheck..bye
I, on the other hand, soaked and then cooked ten pound of pinto beans for tonight's supper. My kids know with certaintity that I can cook a great pot of spicy beans that we mash up with garlic to make tacos, tostados, enchillados, nachos and/or burritos. It is EVERYONE'S favorite meal at our house. Tonight Javy ate 12 tacos, little Fernando (age 3) ate 3 large tostados, Jackie ate 4 and washed them down with two cups of milk, everyone else ate their usual 6-12 EACH! I'm glad that I sleep upstairs. (Sarah you need to hyperlink farts.com here).
A big thunderstorm is blowing up right now and our power is flickering. I'll probably lose this blog when the power totally shuts off. Living down a dirt road we constantly lose our power which stinks literally as we then lose our pumping capabilities. Dern...no flushing, no drinking, no washing, etc.
But we already all got clean in the pool this afternoon. Little Alyssa got to float in the arms of her daddy Joe with a big smile on her face for an hour or so. Then Joe also went to Bubbaville unable to resist the urge to wrestle with Joey. Yes I have several sons named Jose but they are nicknamed Joe, Joey, JoJo, Big Jose and little Jose. Little Jose is also Pepe. And he really isn't very little. Big Joe is 22, Joey is 17, Jojo is 8, Little Jose is 10 and Big Jose is 31.
I didn't get to name them but I got to raise them.
Yolie's feet are still swollen.
My blog is basically a series of family notes and this thought does not have to be germaine to the rest of the blog as most of my thoughts are random and way out there anyway.
I'm shutting down...HUGE storm crashing around us. No speelcheck..bye
Thursday, June 16, 2005
The Fire Non-Event
Jackie (4) and I climbed into the cab of my 1986 Toyota pick-up truck giggling at the thought of chasing fire trucks. Joey (16) jumped into the bed of the truck so heavily that I flew up out of my seat and hit my head on the roof of the truck. There was no fire, no fire trucks or even smoke so we went to the beginning of my dirt road and dog-legged left onto Sarah's dirt road to tell her about it and we wanted to show her Jack's summer buzz-cut. Joey grabbed his Dunlap (done lapped over his pants) shirtless belly with both hands and shook it violently at Sarah's 3 dogs who began barking in alarm. Then his maniacal laugh pretty much sent them over the edge but did amuse Sarah. No fire yet I wonder about this goofy kid of mine.
The rest of my kids who are reading this post are probably shaking their heads at the visual that they've seen many times. Joey and his belly............
Poor Yolie's belly is tighter than a tick and more than a month alledgedly to go...swole up legs...but still a pretty, pretty girl with those big gorgeous eyes that I wish she got from me.
The rest of my kids who are reading this post are probably shaking their heads at the visual that they've seen many times. Joey and his belly............
Poor Yolie's belly is tighter than a tick and more than a month alledgedly to go...swole up legs...but still a pretty, pretty girl with those big gorgeous eyes that I wish she got from me.
My Conspiracy Theory for Today
My brother Jim is the King of Conspiracy Theories but what worries me is that I get it. I get sucked in and they make sense. Wonder if he'll come into my theory? Or Sarah's actually...I turned on my AC two days ago when it was in the 90s with a heat index even higher. When I was soaking wet in sweat by 8 a.m. while I was eating, I mean picking, raspberries. Georgia seeps itself in 100% humidity on a daily basis. I was out west 38 kids ago (or 25 years in other words) and watched in shock as my skin dried up and started to flake off in the Arizona desert. "Jeepers", I wondered, "how do people live like this?"
So the other day I go inside the house around noon and wring myself out and drink several quarts of water. I didn't think I could cook supper that night unless I turned on the AC. So I spent all afternoon hollering at the kids to shut the doors since I am the only one with the ability to do so after I go in or out. A headache came on and not from my shouting. I'm used to that.
The next day I was shiftless. I didn't go outside because I was whining like a little kid, "It's too hot!" since I was cocooned in that un-natural synthetic man-made flourocarbonated air. my headache got worse and Sarah pointed out that it was probably from the AC after I had snapped, whined and groused at everyone. We never even had owned AC until I was in my late 30's. Sarah was born and raised by the time I had central AC. She claimed she'd go to work in AC and get headaches since she wasn't used to it.
An aside: I saw a garden sign, "This is my garden where I live. I only sleep in the house."
Today I high-tailed it out the door early this morning to put manure and woodchips on the Hibiscus, Daylilies, Daphne, Roses, Nicotianas, Platycodens, Cannas, Callas, Elephant Ears and Azaleas. I'm capitalizing them all out of respect for how great they looked this morning in the 90 degree heat. All this mulch keeps their feet cool and they express their gratitude with huge blooms and healthy foliage. They love it that I have never used chemicals in more than 30 years of gardening. My headache was gone. Bingo! Off with that AC! I have 3 whole-house fans (aka attic fans) that bring in the sultry but scented air from outside.
I had a good grandbaby today as both Ray and Alyssa decided to put on a show this afternoon.
Supper was a barley, alphabet pasta, and corn in a garlic soaked tomato sauce but food is Sarah's territory.
I raised her as a vegetarian her whole life but let it be her own decision. Not that I would cook any dead animals for her, only that I'd allow her to eat it at school or at her dad's house. She rarely ever had any meat then at age 5 said she wanted to be a vegetarian also. I'm not an imaginative cook, I just cook a lot of food. Actually Sarah's dad is/was a good cook. He had a marinated mushroom recipe that I still crave 35 years later. Sarah's a great cook and if she'd show me the hyperlink steps I'd hyperlink her blog here. Since she went in my blog last time and did the hyperlinks I expect when I get up tomorrow they'll be here.
Sarah just called to say that she was looking out her window and saw 2 firetrucks that just drove down my dirt road but passed by my driveway. Like a good ole nosey Southerner I'm going to check on what's going on. Last time I went up to the mailbox when I heard sirens and the EMT guy driving by stopped and told told me, "Well this time it wasn't one of YOUR kids!" This town is too small and getting smaller.
So the other day I go inside the house around noon and wring myself out and drink several quarts of water. I didn't think I could cook supper that night unless I turned on the AC. So I spent all afternoon hollering at the kids to shut the doors since I am the only one with the ability to do so after I go in or out. A headache came on and not from my shouting. I'm used to that.
The next day I was shiftless. I didn't go outside because I was whining like a little kid, "It's too hot!" since I was cocooned in that un-natural synthetic man-made flourocarbonated air. my headache got worse and Sarah pointed out that it was probably from the AC after I had snapped, whined and groused at everyone. We never even had owned AC until I was in my late 30's. Sarah was born and raised by the time I had central AC. She claimed she'd go to work in AC and get headaches since she wasn't used to it.
An aside: I saw a garden sign, "This is my garden where I live. I only sleep in the house."
Today I high-tailed it out the door early this morning to put manure and woodchips on the Hibiscus, Daylilies, Daphne, Roses, Nicotianas, Platycodens, Cannas, Callas, Elephant Ears and Azaleas. I'm capitalizing them all out of respect for how great they looked this morning in the 90 degree heat. All this mulch keeps their feet cool and they express their gratitude with huge blooms and healthy foliage. They love it that I have never used chemicals in more than 30 years of gardening. My headache was gone. Bingo! Off with that AC! I have 3 whole-house fans (aka attic fans) that bring in the sultry but scented air from outside.
I had a good grandbaby today as both Ray and Alyssa decided to put on a show this afternoon.
Supper was a barley, alphabet pasta, and corn in a garlic soaked tomato sauce but food is Sarah's territory.
I raised her as a vegetarian her whole life but let it be her own decision. Not that I would cook any dead animals for her, only that I'd allow her to eat it at school or at her dad's house. She rarely ever had any meat then at age 5 said she wanted to be a vegetarian also. I'm not an imaginative cook, I just cook a lot of food. Actually Sarah's dad is/was a good cook. He had a marinated mushroom recipe that I still crave 35 years later. Sarah's a great cook and if she'd show me the hyperlink steps I'd hyperlink her blog here. Since she went in my blog last time and did the hyperlinks I expect when I get up tomorrow they'll be here.
Sarah just called to say that she was looking out her window and saw 2 firetrucks that just drove down my dirt road but passed by my driveway. Like a good ole nosey Southerner I'm going to check on what's going on. Last time I went up to the mailbox when I heard sirens and the EMT guy driving by stopped and told told me, "Well this time it wasn't one of YOUR kids!" This town is too small and getting smaller.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Money
I am queen of budgeting and stretching a dime into a dollar. I subscribe to Money Magazine since I got 12 issues for $10.00.
I'll point out to Sarah that I am using hyperlinks where possible as she told me this wasn't a blog unless hyperlinks were included. OK maybe it is just an online journal to me.
Anyway this month's issue had a big cover story about the 50 Smartest Things To Do With Your Money. To me, the number one smartest thing is to live beneath one's means. Period. There is no other way to be financially successful. I'm not wealthy but I am financially successful. I have zero credit card debt and no revolving payments on furniture or other stuff. Yes I budget carefully and balance my checkbook diligently to the penny but, most importantly, we live beneath our means. We are not proud people. We do not go to the mall. I have a 14 year old son, Gito, who is in his 11th year of living with me and he has never been to the mall. It is only five miles away from my house but why would we go? I buy brandname shirts for my kids at Goodwill. They wear Hilfiger, Nautica, Gap, Polo, etc that I either paid $2.00 each for or paid even less at a yard sale. Oftentimes people give us sacks of clothes and I decided quite awhile ago that anything and everything that I needed would be provided by these bags. If God thought I needed something, it would appear freely in a bag. My only jewelry are the 2 gold hoops in each ear. Actually I have another set that the kids gave me one Christmas but the point is I don't go browsing in the store for accessories. I don't feel deprived, I feel totally freed up both by the lack of debt and the lack of possessions to worry about.
My brother Gary once redid his closet and decided that only what fit in that narrow space would be what he kept for apparel. How many pairs of khakis did he think he needed anyway? He has a two foot wide collection of shirts and pants. I admire that. My other brother, Jim, most likely lives even more spartanly. Gary is 49, Jim is 46 and I'm 50 years old. I am absolutely positive that you could add up what the 3 of us have spent on new clothes together in the last 3 decades and it'd be less that what 'normal' people spend in a year. We just don't care about clothes and stuff, we probably take it to an extreme level but it satisfies us. But none of us have money problems. We own houses, they've both traveled extensively and I'm raising a houseful of children with my money.
One of my heroes, Larry Burkett, taught me Biblical Principles of money management in the 1980s and it was an eye-opening experience. I took a 6 week video course at church that revolutionized my life.
My children have often rebelled against me after they grow up and move away. They stop attending church, they sometimes make poor decisions and most of them have overspent their money. Most quickly attempt to get back on track as they have then learned the hard way about natural consequences.
Sarah became a tax accountant after dancing through blowsy majors like journalism and classical studies. It occured to her that anyone so obviously obsessed with stationary stores and office supply catalogs might be better suited going down a financial job path. She's as bossy as I am and has taken her career to a level that allows her to tell people what to do with their money. I read financial info then go to her with questions. She's quick to share opinions about (I mean WITH) me. I trust her knowledge and instinct though.
So in the manner of overusing hyperlinks I'll end with a book recommendation. Pay Down Debt by Jean Chatzky is a great place to start the road to financial freedom.
I'll point out to Sarah that I am using hyperlinks where possible as she told me this wasn't a blog unless hyperlinks were included. OK maybe it is just an online journal to me.
Anyway this month's issue had a big cover story about the 50 Smartest Things To Do With Your Money. To me, the number one smartest thing is to live beneath one's means. Period. There is no other way to be financially successful. I'm not wealthy but I am financially successful. I have zero credit card debt and no revolving payments on furniture or other stuff. Yes I budget carefully and balance my checkbook diligently to the penny but, most importantly, we live beneath our means. We are not proud people. We do not go to the mall. I have a 14 year old son, Gito, who is in his 11th year of living with me and he has never been to the mall. It is only five miles away from my house but why would we go? I buy brandname shirts for my kids at Goodwill. They wear Hilfiger, Nautica, Gap, Polo, etc that I either paid $2.00 each for or paid even less at a yard sale. Oftentimes people give us sacks of clothes and I decided quite awhile ago that anything and everything that I needed would be provided by these bags. If God thought I needed something, it would appear freely in a bag. My only jewelry are the 2 gold hoops in each ear. Actually I have another set that the kids gave me one Christmas but the point is I don't go browsing in the store for accessories. I don't feel deprived, I feel totally freed up both by the lack of debt and the lack of possessions to worry about.
My brother Gary once redid his closet and decided that only what fit in that narrow space would be what he kept for apparel. How many pairs of khakis did he think he needed anyway? He has a two foot wide collection of shirts and pants. I admire that. My other brother, Jim, most likely lives even more spartanly. Gary is 49, Jim is 46 and I'm 50 years old. I am absolutely positive that you could add up what the 3 of us have spent on new clothes together in the last 3 decades and it'd be less that what 'normal' people spend in a year. We just don't care about clothes and stuff, we probably take it to an extreme level but it satisfies us. But none of us have money problems. We own houses, they've both traveled extensively and I'm raising a houseful of children with my money.
One of my heroes, Larry Burkett, taught me Biblical Principles of money management in the 1980s and it was an eye-opening experience. I took a 6 week video course at church that revolutionized my life.
My children have often rebelled against me after they grow up and move away. They stop attending church, they sometimes make poor decisions and most of them have overspent their money. Most quickly attempt to get back on track as they have then learned the hard way about natural consequences.
Sarah became a tax accountant after dancing through blowsy majors like journalism and classical studies. It occured to her that anyone so obviously obsessed with stationary stores and office supply catalogs might be better suited going down a financial job path. She's as bossy as I am and has taken her career to a level that allows her to tell people what to do with their money. I read financial info then go to her with questions. She's quick to share opinions about (I mean WITH) me. I trust her knowledge and instinct though.
So in the manner of overusing hyperlinks I'll end with a book recommendation. Pay Down Debt by Jean Chatzky is a great place to start the road to financial freedom.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Why'd I send Lily?
Lily is my abolutely beautiful 7 year old daughter. Cristy, my daughter, is her birthmom and it is genetically obvious when you look at Lily. Very nearly the same face and Lily got all of Cristy's artistic abilities. Lily has lived with me since birth in the same house all her life, she'll be eight years old this August. We changed churches also when Lily was born so she has had a very consistent and stable life unlike most of my other adopted children.
This past fall Lily's teacher told me she was concerned at Lily's lack of focus. That totally took me by surprise but then I got to thinking...I go 9,000 mph on a slow day. I have millions of chores to tend to and 24 kids at home that need constant supervision. If I'm working in the kitchen I'll often need something taken up to my room to be filed so I'll hand it to Lily who always seems underfoot. Months later I'll notice that particular piece of paper on the seldom used dining room table. Or I'll ask Lily, who is again hanging in my armpit area, to go to the family room and get my Franklin Planner. I'll be done with cooking supper when I realize that I never actually saw or consulted my planner and I'll mutter, "Duh! Why'd I send Lily?" Yolie has often made the very same remark as have all our other family members.
I called Cristy to dicuss this possible ADHD with her only to learn that Lily's birth father was very ADHD. I raised Cristy and her 3 siblings who were all severely ADHD. This was before the Texas foster care system labeled children's level of care or even gave out many diagnoses. Sergi was labeled sweet but he truly had, nor even now has, any vague idea of where his head is. I never laughed so hard as when he described an incident in Navy basic training. Sergi was trying his hardest to watch the marching trainee's boots right directly in front of him, matching each footstep perfectly in a right, left, right, left, right left manner for 15 minutes until he cracked his head hard on a stop sign and fell down even harder. Sergi's sergeant screamed in amazement, "Boy! What ARE you???? STUPID or something???"
Then the Navy had Sergi trained to build bombs in the War with Iraq. We, Sergi's family, waited nervously and sweating on pins and needles, certain that Sergi would space out and drop the bombs off his ship, on his foot, or somewhere else much worse. Sergi surprised us all both by not causing any excess damage and by writing MY name on one of the bombs that was dropped on Baghdad earning me the moniker, "Mom's Da Bomb!" for several months from smart-mouth Sarah.
Lily's other sister/aunt Gina often makes Sergi seem to be super-focused by comparison as Gina rarely can follow a whole paragraph of conversation. As she was growing up I'd resort to reminding her that I was not going to constantly repeat myself and she needed to TRY and pay attention the first time. Somehow she managed to earn a science degree and is now a restaurant inspector. Gina KNEW she needed to study harder and longer than any other human being on earth and Gina solidly put forth that effort. By contrast, Gina later lived with Yolie who never cracked a book through college or graduate school. How frustrating that had to have been for Gina who NEVER stopped persevering. Ever. Gina ended up earning a much harder degree than anyone else in our liberal arts family. This gives me hope that Lily will follow after Gina's example of hard work. Cristy was not a space cadet at all but was almost hyper-sensitive to what was going on around her and obsessive with how it all affected her... and her only.
Oh my goodness, I just remembered my cordless phone was ringing about 30 minutes ago and I sent Lily to answer it. Why'd I send Lily? She went to answer it but drifted outside to finish picking my gladioli for a beautiful arrangement she was composing. I also haven't yet seen the flowers...or the phone...or Lily...
This past fall Lily's teacher told me she was concerned at Lily's lack of focus. That totally took me by surprise but then I got to thinking...I go 9,000 mph on a slow day. I have millions of chores to tend to and 24 kids at home that need constant supervision. If I'm working in the kitchen I'll often need something taken up to my room to be filed so I'll hand it to Lily who always seems underfoot. Months later I'll notice that particular piece of paper on the seldom used dining room table. Or I'll ask Lily, who is again hanging in my armpit area, to go to the family room and get my Franklin Planner. I'll be done with cooking supper when I realize that I never actually saw or consulted my planner and I'll mutter, "Duh! Why'd I send Lily?" Yolie has often made the very same remark as have all our other family members.
I called Cristy to dicuss this possible ADHD with her only to learn that Lily's birth father was very ADHD. I raised Cristy and her 3 siblings who were all severely ADHD. This was before the Texas foster care system labeled children's level of care or even gave out many diagnoses. Sergi was labeled sweet but he truly had, nor even now has, any vague idea of where his head is. I never laughed so hard as when he described an incident in Navy basic training. Sergi was trying his hardest to watch the marching trainee's boots right directly in front of him, matching each footstep perfectly in a right, left, right, left, right left manner for 15 minutes until he cracked his head hard on a stop sign and fell down even harder. Sergi's sergeant screamed in amazement, "Boy! What ARE you???? STUPID or something???"
Then the Navy had Sergi trained to build bombs in the War with Iraq. We, Sergi's family, waited nervously and sweating on pins and needles, certain that Sergi would space out and drop the bombs off his ship, on his foot, or somewhere else much worse. Sergi surprised us all both by not causing any excess damage and by writing MY name on one of the bombs that was dropped on Baghdad earning me the moniker, "Mom's Da Bomb!" for several months from smart-mouth Sarah.
Lily's other sister/aunt Gina often makes Sergi seem to be super-focused by comparison as Gina rarely can follow a whole paragraph of conversation. As she was growing up I'd resort to reminding her that I was not going to constantly repeat myself and she needed to TRY and pay attention the first time. Somehow she managed to earn a science degree and is now a restaurant inspector. Gina KNEW she needed to study harder and longer than any other human being on earth and Gina solidly put forth that effort. By contrast, Gina later lived with Yolie who never cracked a book through college or graduate school. How frustrating that had to have been for Gina who NEVER stopped persevering. Ever. Gina ended up earning a much harder degree than anyone else in our liberal arts family. This gives me hope that Lily will follow after Gina's example of hard work. Cristy was not a space cadet at all but was almost hyper-sensitive to what was going on around her and obsessive with how it all affected her... and her only.
Oh my goodness, I just remembered my cordless phone was ringing about 30 minutes ago and I sent Lily to answer it. Why'd I send Lily? She went to answer it but drifted outside to finish picking my gladioli for a beautiful arrangement she was composing. I also haven't yet seen the flowers...or the phone...or Lily...
Sunday, June 12, 2005
HGTV versus my kids
I absolutely love HGTV. That and Braves baseball games that allow me peeks into other fascinating worlds far from my own dirt road. Dirt roadS to be more specific as when you turn onto my dirt road you then have to turn left into my long, winding and rut-filled dirt driveway. My mom complains that this awful driveway keeps people from wanting to visit me. I don't think that is exactly why people don't come and visit. It is more likely due to the fact that I am very busy tending to the kids. Daniel said he'd never want to come home if my driveway was paved. Daniel drives a Jeep. I can't afford to pave the driveway anyway.
On HGTV these people have $50,000 budgets to landscape their yards beautifully. They must be childless. I just watched a show where the homeowners used words like despair when they contemplated their unfinished backyard. Despair is what my son, Edgar, must have felt when he was 10 years old and was solely responsible for trying to find food to feed his six siblings. The couple on TV agonized over the right umbrella for their gorgeous mosaic patio table. I can not even begin to imagine Edgar's agony when he was separated from his two youngest brothers in foster care. Brothers that he had scrambled to feed, protect and care for tenderly over several years of their infancy and toddlerhood.
When that delightful couples' "perfect" HGTV yard was finished it still looked empty to me...there weren't rough and tumble boys playing in the yard, little girls on the trampoline or a now 18 year old Edgar smiling in delight at his goofy brothers who will never remember the Hell they used to live in down in south Georgia.
How can I ever thank Edgar for taking care of my future kids? Or thank Edgar for being the most wonderful 18 year old son a momma could want? I could thank Daniel for being a super role model and for showing Edgar that adoption is for forever or I could thank Joe for showing Edgar that Big Mama doesn't give up. I could thank Jesse and Sergi, my Navy sons, for showing Edgar that even grown men still need their mama. Or I could just thank God for giving me all these young'uns.
This after we all had to leave church today because Jose was raging (over nothing) and sweet ole Sonny carried him to the bus for me. Sonny and I sat there during the Sunday school hour trying unsuccessfully to 'talk him down'. I ended up having to get all the kids up and take them home because I couldn't leave my middle-schoolers unattended in the sanctuary.
I watched HGTV just so I could feel sorry for myself that I didn't get to go to church after I got everyone dressed and there by 9:15 this rainy morning. I was upset and angry and wanted to watch a better lifestyle than what I thought I had.
That finished product of a Landscape Challenge Show quickly showed me the value of the life I do have.
On HGTV these people have $50,000 budgets to landscape their yards beautifully. They must be childless. I just watched a show where the homeowners used words like despair when they contemplated their unfinished backyard. Despair is what my son, Edgar, must have felt when he was 10 years old and was solely responsible for trying to find food to feed his six siblings. The couple on TV agonized over the right umbrella for their gorgeous mosaic patio table. I can not even begin to imagine Edgar's agony when he was separated from his two youngest brothers in foster care. Brothers that he had scrambled to feed, protect and care for tenderly over several years of their infancy and toddlerhood.
When that delightful couples' "perfect" HGTV yard was finished it still looked empty to me...there weren't rough and tumble boys playing in the yard, little girls on the trampoline or a now 18 year old Edgar smiling in delight at his goofy brothers who will never remember the Hell they used to live in down in south Georgia.
How can I ever thank Edgar for taking care of my future kids? Or thank Edgar for being the most wonderful 18 year old son a momma could want? I could thank Daniel for being a super role model and for showing Edgar that adoption is for forever or I could thank Joe for showing Edgar that Big Mama doesn't give up. I could thank Jesse and Sergi, my Navy sons, for showing Edgar that even grown men still need their mama. Or I could just thank God for giving me all these young'uns.
This after we all had to leave church today because Jose was raging (over nothing) and sweet ole Sonny carried him to the bus for me. Sonny and I sat there during the Sunday school hour trying unsuccessfully to 'talk him down'. I ended up having to get all the kids up and take them home because I couldn't leave my middle-schoolers unattended in the sanctuary.
I watched HGTV just so I could feel sorry for myself that I didn't get to go to church after I got everyone dressed and there by 9:15 this rainy morning. I was upset and angry and wanted to watch a better lifestyle than what I thought I had.
That finished product of a Landscape Challenge Show quickly showed me the value of the life I do have.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
immaturity
I am not trying to outdo Claudia but the reason I think I have survived the last TWENTY ONE 13 year old kids that I have raised is directly related to the level of my own maturity, or immaturity actually. I am still amused by anyone who can burp the Star Bangled Banner. Gas attacks from my vegetarian, bean-eating sons still crack me up. I actually worked for 9 years in a middle school and 15 years in high school settings so I truly know no better. I agree with the repetitious noise syndrome theory but I prefer living with that as opposed to the level of drama, angst, PMS and love-sick puppy syndromes that come with raising 13 year old girls.
But, more importantly, why would anyone not shop at yard sales? Miriam scored today with name brand shoes like Aigner for 2 dollars. I bought Tabby a Bassett dresser for $35.00 and then I got a whole bunch of large heavy clay pots for $5.00 total. You can barely buy a clay catch tray for $5.00 much less all I got today. Lily spent about $3.00 at four different places and came home with a crate full of art supplies. Like every week since he could walk, Jack came home with armfuls of trucks for less than a buck.
But, more importantly, why would anyone not shop at yard sales? Miriam scored today with name brand shoes like Aigner for 2 dollars. I bought Tabby a Bassett dresser for $35.00 and then I got a whole bunch of large heavy clay pots for $5.00 total. You can barely buy a clay catch tray for $5.00 much less all I got today. Lily spent about $3.00 at four different places and came home with a crate full of art supplies. Like every week since he could walk, Jack came home with armfuls of trucks for less than a buck.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Uh-OH
We also have a family email group so I can "talk" to all my grown kids instead of calling each one. I just gave them the blog address so I am going to get 39 opinions. No two of my kids are even remotely similar despite most of them being a part of a sib group. They are all truly unique and interesting. The older they get the more diverse and fascinating they become to me. I now have such a history with them each. Nearly 32 years, of course, with Sarah who hates that I round up her age like that. Many more of my kids have been with me throughout the 80s, the 90s and now with almost 14 grandbabies, our third generation is exploding exponentially. Sarah wanted to take guesses on how long it would take for the number of grandchildren to surpass the number of children. And yes, I have several grandchildren older than my children but we also have uncles who are actually brothers, grandson sons, etc...it comes with the territory
Tediously Boring
This is my blog and I'll bore everyone if I want. I can bore people in person or save it for my blog. Garden talk is boring for all but the gardener doing the talking.
My friend, Tracy, claims he has an opinion about everything. So do I. And very strongly held at that. I'll try to voice them here and keep quiet in public. That should spare the rest of society. Since I rarely go off my dirt road anyway out into public...
My red Georgia clay is now a very dark brown friable soil thanks to the tons and tons of horse manure and the even more tons of wood chips that I have added over 13 seasons of gardening organically. There are more earthworms per square inch than ever before. This is the stuff I think about when driving, eating or doing any other mindless task. For 13 years I worked at a high school and I carried home several pounds of coffee grounds each day. Let's say 3 pounds times 190 days times 13 years =7410 pounds, let's round up to include the days that teachers were really guzzling the coffee. It was easily 4 tons I rescued from the landfill, added to my compost pile and enriched my soil. No wonder I'm boring when stuff like this excites and obsesses me. My hyperactivity put to good use. Who needs to go to a gym?
My gardenias are in full bloom and I nearly swoon from their fragrance. I'm stuffing my mouth with raspberries and admiring the Bachelor's Buttons, Nicotiana, Hydrangeas and antique roses. The dayliles need dividing yet again but are blooming to beat the band. The strawberries are ending in time for the thornless Navajo blackberries to begin. My snow peas were trampled because I planted near the chicken yard fence that tends not to contain the 2 ornery roosters. Speaking of boring...Ginny my guinea hen can't tolerate the Bubbas in my back garden. She has a fenced in acre but she can fly unlike my fat 3 geese each named Buddy. Ginny will quietly sneak up to where I am weeding. She'll nibble and pull weeds out of my bucket while talking to me in her trilling voice that rises to DECIBELS when a Bubba is spotted. My bedroom is upstairs next to the back garden and she and the geese will holler in response to my voice. I have to shut the windows to talk on the phone. My roosters can't tell time and they cock-a-doodle-do constantly from 5 am til past midnight. The hens are annoyed but what are they going to do?
In the 1970s I voraciously read The Mother Earth News articles from "Report From Them That Are Doing" and recently I realized that I am now doing my life's dream which is living on acreage, gardening and talking to poultry that I'll never fry up. I learned the philosophy of 'use it up, wear it out, and do without' which has come in handy while raising 39 children. I spent the last decade with infants, toddlers and other demandos and my gardens were neglected acording to my standards, now I am reclaiming them. I am just grateful that gardens is/are plural. I have My Welcome Garden, My Pool Garden, My Hillside Gardens, My Huge Back Garden, My Front Garden, My Rose Garden and various other small garden areas...note the emphasis on MY. People ignorantly and gaily tell me, "well you have all those kids to help!" Kids and help can't be used in the same sentence. My garden is my escape. Sometimes the kids "help" by hauling woodchips but I have to referee the process. How much help is that? When I only had 11 kids many, many years ago one of my best memories is of Yolie bringing me a plate of chesse enchilladas with Vidalia onions out to the garden for me so I could eat and work. Food taste better to me out in the garden when my hands are dirty and I am sweating. Jackie fed me raspberries last evening while I weeded around the four o'clocks that garden books say are fragrant. Mine are prolific, easy and gorgeous but not fragrant. This from a woman who swears she could be blindfolded and be able to smell her children apart. I gag over perfume magazine inserts and despise chemical odors. I hurl when my teenage girls wear stinky hand lotions and cheap dimestore perfume. I keep windows open in the summer in GA and use 3 attic fans to bring in fresh not canned air like an AC. I hate fake air. I hate to be caged up in AC.
I hate the smell of manufactured air. I want the smell of the earth and rain and great soil. I have several hundred houseplants contributing to that desire. Why did I not major in horticulture? Why did I work inside a school for 25 years? From 1980-1987 I worked on the second floor of a schoolhouse that had no air conditioning in GEORGIA! I loved it.
Another garden memory...when Sarah was an only child many moons ago, we used to pull up chairs and watch the garden grow. Now her son is distracted by the racket from the geese, the guines, then hens and 2 roosters. I find it comforting.
My friend, Tracy, claims he has an opinion about everything. So do I. And very strongly held at that. I'll try to voice them here and keep quiet in public. That should spare the rest of society. Since I rarely go off my dirt road anyway out into public...
My red Georgia clay is now a very dark brown friable soil thanks to the tons and tons of horse manure and the even more tons of wood chips that I have added over 13 seasons of gardening organically. There are more earthworms per square inch than ever before. This is the stuff I think about when driving, eating or doing any other mindless task. For 13 years I worked at a high school and I carried home several pounds of coffee grounds each day. Let's say 3 pounds times 190 days times 13 years =7410 pounds, let's round up to include the days that teachers were really guzzling the coffee. It was easily 4 tons I rescued from the landfill, added to my compost pile and enriched my soil. No wonder I'm boring when stuff like this excites and obsesses me. My hyperactivity put to good use. Who needs to go to a gym?
My gardenias are in full bloom and I nearly swoon from their fragrance. I'm stuffing my mouth with raspberries and admiring the Bachelor's Buttons, Nicotiana, Hydrangeas and antique roses. The dayliles need dividing yet again but are blooming to beat the band. The strawberries are ending in time for the thornless Navajo blackberries to begin. My snow peas were trampled because I planted near the chicken yard fence that tends not to contain the 2 ornery roosters. Speaking of boring...Ginny my guinea hen can't tolerate the Bubbas in my back garden. She has a fenced in acre but she can fly unlike my fat 3 geese each named Buddy. Ginny will quietly sneak up to where I am weeding. She'll nibble and pull weeds out of my bucket while talking to me in her trilling voice that rises to DECIBELS when a Bubba is spotted. My bedroom is upstairs next to the back garden and she and the geese will holler in response to my voice. I have to shut the windows to talk on the phone. My roosters can't tell time and they cock-a-doodle-do constantly from 5 am til past midnight. The hens are annoyed but what are they going to do?
In the 1970s I voraciously read The Mother Earth News articles from "Report From Them That Are Doing" and recently I realized that I am now doing my life's dream which is living on acreage, gardening and talking to poultry that I'll never fry up. I learned the philosophy of 'use it up, wear it out, and do without' which has come in handy while raising 39 children. I spent the last decade with infants, toddlers and other demandos and my gardens were neglected acording to my standards, now I am reclaiming them. I am just grateful that gardens is/are plural. I have My Welcome Garden, My Pool Garden, My Hillside Gardens, My Huge Back Garden, My Front Garden, My Rose Garden and various other small garden areas...note the emphasis on MY. People ignorantly and gaily tell me, "well you have all those kids to help!" Kids and help can't be used in the same sentence. My garden is my escape. Sometimes the kids "help" by hauling woodchips but I have to referee the process. How much help is that? When I only had 11 kids many, many years ago one of my best memories is of Yolie bringing me a plate of chesse enchilladas with Vidalia onions out to the garden for me so I could eat and work. Food taste better to me out in the garden when my hands are dirty and I am sweating. Jackie fed me raspberries last evening while I weeded around the four o'clocks that garden books say are fragrant. Mine are prolific, easy and gorgeous but not fragrant. This from a woman who swears she could be blindfolded and be able to smell her children apart. I gag over perfume magazine inserts and despise chemical odors. I hurl when my teenage girls wear stinky hand lotions and cheap dimestore perfume. I keep windows open in the summer in GA and use 3 attic fans to bring in fresh not canned air like an AC. I hate fake air. I hate to be caged up in AC.
I hate the smell of manufactured air. I want the smell of the earth and rain and great soil. I have several hundred houseplants contributing to that desire. Why did I not major in horticulture? Why did I work inside a school for 25 years? From 1980-1987 I worked on the second floor of a schoolhouse that had no air conditioning in GEORGIA! I loved it.
Another garden memory...when Sarah was an only child many moons ago, we used to pull up chairs and watch the garden grow. Now her son is distracted by the racket from the geese, the guines, then hens and 2 roosters. I find it comforting.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Daniel
Daniel (19) went to Bubbaville today. Unable to resist the urge to push a Bubba in the pool he caved in and jumped back into his childhood. Spent hours playing with the Bubbas roughly, splashing, pushing, tackling and massively thrilling the Bubbas. An original Bubba, Daniel, has been away at the university for a year playing Dodgeball and getting an A in Anthropology at the same time. Mr. Fix-It repaired the water tube on the slide, dumped more chemicals in the pool, AND made us wait past our usual 2pm hit the water time. He watched the movie, "Super-Size Me" last night and, unimpressed, ate a double McBurger something in front of his vegetarian mom today. Told me it'd cause liver failure in my pristine digestive system. Sometimes I just stare blankly back momentarily unable to retort. Other times I go into my spiel that I am probably the only almost 51 year old that is on zero medications despite the fact that I have 39 close relatives attempting to drive me to Lortab Land. I'll be in Depends at this rate worrying about the dioxins in such close contact to my skin. They spend all their waking hours defying me, testing me, sometimes loving me but, mostly, trying my patience. When they are all grown I will once again spend sunup to sundown in the gardens that I constantly think about 24-7. Today I got in 2.5 hours weeding the strawberries plus 2.5 hours at the pool yelling, "You're noodleless now!" because Fabian is dangerously violent with the styrofoam float devices.
I told Sarah (31) I was creating a blog and got a "how trendy" response. Oh well, that is not something I am often accused of. These blogs will be for my rants. Yolie (25) and Sarah must be tired of them daily by now. Now they'll have to log on for my screeches.
My friend Claudia is to blame. Blogs have been around for year but true to form, hers was the first I'd ever read. Blogspot tenmpted me to create one as well. Since my family is now complete and my previously major life focus of adopting children is complete, I need a new goal. Should I write a book? I read yesterday that only 10% of the population buys and reads non-fiction. Dadgummit, there goes my potential audience so now I'll only write here for me. Get it out of my system. I think I'm gonna like this. Thanks Claudia! Claudia was my imaginary friend until I met her in person in Toledo, Ohio. She is a hoot and has a bunch of young'uns trying to send her over the edge as well.
I told Sarah (31) I was creating a blog and got a "how trendy" response. Oh well, that is not something I am often accused of. These blogs will be for my rants. Yolie (25) and Sarah must be tired of them daily by now. Now they'll have to log on for my screeches.
My friend Claudia is to blame. Blogs have been around for year but true to form, hers was the first I'd ever read. Blogspot tenmpted me to create one as well. Since my family is now complete and my previously major life focus of adopting children is complete, I need a new goal. Should I write a book? I read yesterday that only 10% of the population buys and reads non-fiction. Dadgummit, there goes my potential audience so now I'll only write here for me. Get it out of my system. I think I'm gonna like this. Thanks Claudia! Claudia was my imaginary friend until I met her in person in Toledo, Ohio. She is a hoot and has a bunch of young'uns trying to send her over the edge as well.
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