Big Fat Turkey Song

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!  We alternate years between Greg's family and my family for Thanksgiving and Easter.  This year we spent the day with the Williams.  Of course, it was a day full of food, family and fun.  We ate until our stomachs hurt, played games, and sang songs.  Did I say we sang songs?  Yes.  Yes, I did.  Greg's grandfather made up a song about a turkey, and Greg's dad perfected it, and carried on the tradition of singing it every year with the family.  (They also sit around and sing Christmas carols on Christmas Eve!)  This year, Greg started teaching Andrew the turkey song right after Halloween.  He has it mostly memorized, but still missed a few words.  Next year, he'll have it memorized, I'm sure!



Today Jacob and I are going to tackle his room, weeding out the old and unused stuff to make room for Santa's goodies.  This evening we will walk downtown for the annual Hollidaysburg tree lighting ceremony, and then head back home for hot chocolate and more family time.  Tomorrow, Jacob has a basketball game in the afternoon and then my sister-in-law and brother-in-law are coming over for an old-time jam session in the evening.  Sunday I hope to spend recuperating from all of the weekend festivities and maybe go through our indoor Christmas decorations, because next weekend we are getting our tree!    It certainly has been (and will continue to be) a jam packed weekend, blessed with the love of family and friends - just the way it should be!  I hope yours was just as joyful, and that the holiday season continues to bring warmth and smiles to your hearts as it does to ours.

Grateful For What They Say

You know the drill on these posts by now.  I'm going to give you a list of things the boys have said over the last month or so that I found amusing.  These are some of my favorite posts to re-read from years past.  I love the things kids say, and not just my own kids.  I love visiting the classrooms at work, just so I can talk to the kids.  When I observe home visits with the case managers, the kids always crack me up.  I never walk away from a child without taking something away (sometimes what I take away is sad, but we aren't going to get into those things right now).  Children are so candid and have such a literal perspective on life and life events.  I can honestly say that even on the most trying days as a parent, I still manage at least a few smiles, just from their youthful comments.  It's not often that I truly take the time to look at the world through their eyes, unfortunately.  But every now and then, what they say strikes me - not always in some deep or profound way, sometimes just in a sweet or silly way - and I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to see things anew, and to be blessed with the privilege of watching these two boys learn and grow.   Although it's easy to lose sight of the graces of child rearing amidst the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, the truth is that being a parent is not a chore, it's an honor, and I couldn't be more grateful for the two little blessings that have been entrusted to me.

Now, without any further ado, let's get started with the fun parts!

Sitting at the kitchen table one evening, playing a game with the boys, I noticed that Andrew kept grabbing his pants.  I asked him if he had to go to the bathroom, and he said no.  A few minutes later, I noticed him pulling again.   Once more, I asked if he had to pee.  "No," was his reply.  "Then stop touching yourself at the kitchen table.  The only places you should touch your penis is in the bathroom or in your bedroom."  Andrew just stared at me.  Jake thought about the conversation for a few minutes and then asked, "Why would he need to touch his penis in the bedroom?"

Sometimes you just can't win.

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When the boys go off on their "I want.  I want. I want" rants, I typically come back with, "I want a skinny ass and a lot of money, but I don't have either.  You can't always get what you want!" They want a lot of things, so you can imagine how often I give them my standard reply.  One day, Andrew and I were in Target and he asked me for approximately 642091 things in less than 30 minutes.  I said to him, "Andrew, do you know what I want?"  He thought about it for a minute and then said, very loudly, "I know, Mom!  I'll get a lot of money and you can have a skinny ass!"

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Andrew likes to be read to before bed.  We read a lot of books, but always come back around to a few favorites, one of which is The Giving Tree.  One night while we were reading The Giving Tree, he said, "I see Andrew!"
"What?" I said.
"My name!  I see it.  A. N.D.R.E.W"  and he pointed it out in the sentence "AND the tREe Was happy."  Not bad for a preschooler, if you ask me!

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I was helping Jacob learn the state capitals one night after dinner.  We tried all kinds of memorization tricks, but what worked best for Jake was to simply memorize them, drill style.  So, I gave him the name of the state and he shouted back the capital.  In the middle of it, we got to New Hampshire.  I said, "New Hampshire," and before Jake could respond, Andrew chimed in and said, "His hamster?  What?  His hamster?"

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Andrew:  "Mom, do you know who the fruit "mimja" is?  It's Priss in Boots."

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We have been letting Andrew's hair grow a little bit longer for the winter months.  His hair is thick and straight, and has about 15 separate cowlicks.  Sharon assures us that eventually it will get long enough that the weight will pull it down, but I'm not so sure.  It's pretty darn long now and only stays down if we coat it with Spackle!  One night, it looked like maybe it was starting to fall (it was false hope), and I said to Andrew, "Oh, it looks like your hair is starting to lay down a little bit."  "Why?" he said.  "Is it tired?"

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One day after school, Jake told me that he misspelled Mississippi on a test.  "How can you misspell Mississippi?" I said.  "That's the easiest one!  Don't you have contests on the playground to see who can spell it the fastest?  M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I!" (I know you can remember doing this as a kid too.  Isn't it a rite of passage for 4th graders?)
"No.  We have contests at recess to see who gets hit with the least number of stray kick balls."
"What?  That's doesn't sound like fun.  What kind of contest is that?"
"It's not really a contest," he said.  "It's pretty much just pure survival."
Oh...recess survivor: kickball dodgers.  Stay tuned, I think this has the makings for a viral TV game show!

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As we were walking out of my parents house one evening, Andrew yelled to Jacob, "Hey, Jake!  Don't walk in the grass!  You'll step in dog shit!"  Jacob looked at me, shook his head and said, "Maybe we should look into counseling to help him curb his swearing."  One kid is a potty mouth and the other is a 9 going on 45 year old social worker!

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Andrew calls "Slushies" "Flushies."

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One day, the director of Harbor House decided to play a lunchtime joke on the teachers.  He emptied Andrew's lunch from his lunchbox and replaced it with a giant butternut squash and elaborate directions  on how to cook the squash: "cut in half, place face down in a pan of water, bake at 400 for 1 hour, cut into tiny pieces, etc."  The point was for them to open Andrew's lunch and say something like, "Oh my goodness!  Mrs Williams has lost her mind!"  He waited and waited, but none of the teachers commented on Andrew's lunch.  The director looked over at Andrew, and noticed that Andrew had stuffed his lunchbox under his seat.  He went over to Andrew and said, "Buddy, where's your lunch?"  Andrew looked at him wide-eyed and said, "I can't eat that pear.  It's really big."  Aw!  Poor Andrew thought that I packed him a giant pear for lunch.  He doesn't even like pears, so he hid his lunch under his seat so that he wouldn't have to eat it!  Guess the joke ended up being on Andrew!  (Don't worry, they gave him his lunch, and I don't think he was scarred too much!)

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Andrew held up a penny one day and asked who the guy was on the coin.  I told him about Abraham Lincoln and he wanted to know where Lincoln lived.  I said that he lived and died a long time ago, and that he is with God now.  He asked if all the faces on money were of dead people, and I said yes.  Later that day in a store, Andrew pulled out a dollar bill, pointed to George Washington and yelled, "Hey, Mom! Is this guy dead?"

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And lastly, this jewel from tonight night:

Andrew: "Rest in poop."
Jake: "Don't you mean rest in pieces?"

Oh great.  One child wants to bury a person in excrement, and the other wants to try the wood chipper approach.  I feel like a very successful parent indeed!


Now, tell me you're not smiling (and grateful) for at least one of those little stories!

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas...

...at least as far as Andrew is concerned anyway!  We have our outside decorations up, only because the weather last weekend just begged for us to do our outside chores.  But the outside stuff is not lit yet, and we don't have any inside Christmas decorations, except in Andrew's room.  He's all about Christmas very early this year.  He has his tree.  We've been reading Christmas books, and every day he asks me how many more days until Christmas.  (I believe the count is now 37 days...or something close to that!) Yesterday we went to the mall to look for a few gifts.  To Andrew's delight, the mall's giant tree was decorated and Santa was taking requests.  Of course, we couldn't let the evening go by without visiting Santa.  I'm grateful the line wasn't long.  (Maybe this will get me out of going back later in the season!) 

Last night at the mall, Andrew picked out a new pair of Scooby-Doo Christmas pajamas.  Tonight, he found a Santa hat and Santa socks in his wardrobe.  It was like we struck gold!  As much as I whine about not particularly liking this time of year, I have to admit to finding joy in the kids' excitement.  You can't have little ones and not be grateful for their innocence and joy, especially this time of year.  So, despite my typical bah-humbug attitude, I'm going out on a limb tonight and saying that I'm grateful for the holiday season, specifically, for my kids' delight during the festivities.  Merry Christmas, everyone!  (Oh, and don't forget to have a good Turkey Day too!)   

All decked out in his hat, Scooby-Doo Christmas pajamas and Christmas socks, sitting next to his fabulous tree and the Polar Express and Santasaurus, his recent favorite books! 

An hour later, having two...yes two...packs of fruit snacks.  Santa's helpers need to keep up their energy, you know! 

Just making sure Santa's firetruck is ready to roll.  Sometime the sled won't fit on the roof.  That's when a ladder truck becomes a necessity!

Is that one of Santa's elves in my fridge?

Oh, it's just Andrew getting himself some milk.

Santa's little helper loves Halloween too!    He's an equal opportunity holiday commemorater! 

Grateful for YouTube

I record a fair amount of videos of the kids, and I save most of them.  I was even making DVDs with compilations of each year's videos for a while, but that just got to be too much work.  I do a lot of things to make sure our days are recorded.  I take tons of photos, write the blog, make the boys' yearly books on Shutterfly, and keep photo albums.  Even with all that documentation, I'm always amazed at how quickly I forget things.

Yesterday, Greg got the laser pointer out to play with the cat.  Andrew proved to be more interested in in than Sam did!  A few moments later, Jake got in on the red-dot-chasing fun!  It was hysterical to see Andrew so perplexed about where that red dot went! Thankfully, Jacob understood that it was a light...hey, you never know about him!  It reminded me that I had a video of the boys chasing the laser from a few years ago.  I got on YouTube, and in less than 5 minutes of searching, I found it (click here to watch it).  How great is it that my videos from 5 years ago are right at my fingertips?  I periodically go back in time, watch the clips, and read old blog entries.  I'm so grateful for the documentation, the good the bad and the ugly.  It's all a part of our lives.  It shows how we all are growing, not just the boys, and I'm so happy to be able to watch it all unfold right before my eyes!

I have about 60 family videos uploaded, and of course I spent a chunk of time watching old "movies."  Greg and Andrew joined in too!  This is one of my favorites:



We still read this book, and he still finishes the sentences, but look how little he was!  Aw...

There were a bunch more.  I love them all, but here are some of my favorites (click the titles to watch):

If You Give A Cat A Balloon - Sam carries a balloon around the house
Bubble Hat - When Andrew was a baby, I used to pile enough soap bubbles on his head that he looked like George Washington.  He was always completely oblivious to the bubbles!
Brotherly Love - No one can make you laugh like your brother!
Andrew Says Grace - A precious little prayer from Andrew.
Brownie Thief - Andrew helped himself to a pan of brownies when I wasn't watching.
Go Back in the Chicken and Hide - Greg and Andrew played "hide and go seek."  Andrew kept ordering Greg to go back into the kitchen, but instead of calling it "kitchen," he said, "chicken."
Learning the ABC's - Jake sings the ABCs to Andrew.
Eating Ketchup - Andrew looks like he's been in a war after licking his bowl clean!
Slip and Hurt - Jacob, so dramatic, calls the Slip and Slide a "Slip and Hurt" after sliding off the edge.

There are so many more, and I love them all.  I fully expect you to go through and watch every single video of mine...or better yet, upload and share some of your own!

Gourd Gratitude

I've been on a pumpkin kick lately...a few weeks late, I know.  Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake.  Slow or not, I managed to come across three pumpkin recipes that I absolutely love.  As the saying goes, "silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone," so I'm sharing the recipes with you.  Enjoy!

Pumpkin Dip:

1 15 ounce can of pumpkin puree
1 5 ounce package of instant vanilla pudding
1 container of cool whip
1 tsp pumpkin pie spice

Let the cool whip thaw just long enough that you can stir it.  Mix together the pumpkin, pudding and pumpkin pie spice with an electric mixer.  Fold in the cool whip.  Serve with ginger snaps or apple slices.

Pumpkin Apple Pancakes:

1 large egg
1 cup each flour and milk
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1/2 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 tbsp each sugar and baking powder
1/4 tsp each salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon
1 apple, peeled cored and diced

Mix together all ingredients in a medium bowl, and cook your pancakes as you normally do.  So good!

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips (I used more)

Preheat oven to 325, and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  Grease the parchment paper with cooking spray.

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients, except the chocolate chips.

In another bowl, combine the eggs and sugar and beat with an electric mixer on low for about two minutes until light yellow and smooth.

Add the rest of the wet ingredients to the egg and sugar mixture.

Slowly add the flour mixture to the wet ingredient mixture and mix until just combined.

Fold in chocolate chips.

Use 1/4 cup scoop to put the batter on the baking sheets.  The cookies rise quite a bit, so space them far apart.  I only put 6 cookies on each baking sheet.

Bake for 16-18 minutes, until golden around the edges.  Let cool for 5 minutes.

These are so good!  They are like little (or actually, big!) cake cookies - super soft and fluffy!

I think this picture says it all:

Warm Weather Gratitude

What a productive weekend!  Not only did we get a good deal of cleaning done at my parents' house, but I also completed everything on my own to-do list including housework, errands, and putting away all of the Halloween decorations!  I guess my neighbors won't be getting a rotten pumpkin on their back patio this year...or maybe they will...there's something to be said for tradition, right?  The weather was so nice, that we also put out all of our Christmas decorations on Sunday.  I was considering not decorating for Christmas this year aside from a tree, because there's just too much going on and I'm really not in the mood.  It's such a relief to know that it is done, and that the boys (Greg included) will be happy knowing that our house looks at least a little festive.  

We just couldn't let Monday slip by without taking advantage of the warm weather either, so after Andrew's afternoon nap (OK, and mine too), we took a walk to the YMCA to play on the playground for a little while.  How could I not be grateful for the cooperative weather - for cleaning out the house and for letting us soak up some fresh air before the winter hits?  It just begged for recognition, so here are a few pictures from the day:

Am I the only parent who becomes unreasonably nervous around these metal climbing cages?  Each time he gets on one, I envision his little feet slipping from under him, and his head hitting multiple bars on the way to the ground.  I'm grateful that my parents are in the medical profession, and that we aren't too terribly far from several emergency rooms (and I'm even more grateful that we haven't had to use the ERs too often!)  

Racing slides can be super fun, especially when you are four and agile (and an unabashed cheater - sorry it's true).  I'm grateful for his competitive motivation.

He looks like he's about to come down the slide, but actually, he had just climbed to the top and turned around for a picture.  I'm grateful for his monkey-like agility.  He's a strong little bugger! 

More climbing, this time on a much less unnerving piece of equipment.  I'm so grateful for his cheesy grin.  

Down the slide! This one is "fire fast" to quote Andrew.  I suppose fire is pretty fast indeed! Pre-school is my favorite age.  They say all kinds of funny things.  I'm grateful daily for his funny and endearing words, phrases and explanations (and his lisp - it makes what he says even cuter!)

He landed on his feet!  As a mother of boys, I'm always grateful for sure footing! 

This picture was taken upon request...actually, he asked that I take a photo of his "bare butt," but settled for one with his pants up.  I'm grateful for his sick sense of humor, even when it's inappropriate (OK, most often especially when it's inappropriate!) 

Peeking out to make sure I was still watching.  I'm grateful that he still wants me close, because I know the time is quickly approaching when he will be looking to make sure I am far away, not nearby.  

Swings - who isn't grateful for swings?  They are the undoubtedly one of the biggest highlights of childhood! 

We stopped for a rest on the double swing on our way home.  Andrew wanted me to take a picture of his tonsils.  I'm grateful he still has tonsils!  

"No more pictures, Mom!"  Or maybe he was saying, "Stop!  In the name of love!"  I'm grateful for a sense of humor, and fairly expansive mental library of old pop song lyrics.  

One last sweet photo.  This one doesn't need an explanation, but I'll give you one anyway - I'm grateful for his cute and endearing smile...especially when it's not preceding an attack on his older brother! 

It's not a successful walk unless you find a big stick or two or three.  I'm grateful for the heavy winds that blew plenty into our path today! 

Being a parent of two boys means always being aware that at any moment, I could possibly lose an eye.  I'm grateful I have two.  

I just hope if they do poke my eye out, they get the right one, because I'm practically blind in that eye.  If I lost my left eye, they could face a lifetime of mismatched clothes, burned dinners and messed up hair!  That said, I guess I should also say that I'm grateful I have quick reflexes!  

Mystery Machine

In preparation of their move, my parents rented a dumpster this weekend.  We spent most of the day Saturday systematically going through their basement and attic, clearing out any old unwanted stuff.  70 years of living in a house certainly makes a lot of work!  The dumpster was completely full before 9 a.m. on Saturday morning!  After some phone calls and confusion, the trash company finally agreed to bring another dumpster out to us, thank goodness.  It would have been a real mess if we were left to wait until this week to get another dumpster.  Even though they cleaned out probably 80% of their things in the attic and basement, there's still so much stuff to go through.  They'll have to get another dumpster when they actually move, I'm sure.

On Friday, I stopped at their house to get Jacob, and my mom asked me to take her bread maker.  I don't eat bread, let alone make my own, so I declined.  On Saturday morning, the bread maker was sitting on the front porch when I arrived.  Mom asked again if I wanted it and again, I said no.  At some point during the course of the morning, I noticed that the bread maker had made its way back into the house and onto a chair behind the front door.  I really didn't give a whole lot of thought to the displaced machine because frankly, all kinds of stuff was being moved all over the place.  A little later, I looked at it again and said to her, "I don't want this machine.  I'm not going to use it.  I'm going to put it in the "free" pile."  I took it outside and cleared a place in the pile of free stuff we had beside the dumpster.  At that time, my dad, my uncle and my brother-in-law were not home.  My mom, my aunt and I were in the house working.  I was alone when I took the machine outside.  I then went back inside to help some more.  I gathered the next pile of garbage to haul out, and headed back to the dumpster.  As I opened the front gate and started down the porch steps, I gazed to my right and there, in the middle of the yard, probably 10 yards or more away from the "free" pile, was the bread maker.  I actually stopped in my tracks and stared at it.

I dumped the garbage and headed back in the house, not touching the mysterious bread machine.  I have been so emotional lately, and so out of whack, that I actually considered the possibility that God was trying to tell me to keep that stupid bread machine.  Why on earth God would want me to keep a 15 year old automatic bread machine is beyond me, but hey, stranger things have happened, right?  Maybe this was some special machine that just needed to be anywhere but in the garbage.  I even sent a text message to friends asking if anyone wanted to rescue it!  No one bit.  I went back inside and asked my mother and my aunt if either one of them had moved the machine.  No, of course they didn't.  They were inside the whole time.  While it would have been totally plausible that my dad moved it in an effort to salvage it, we had to discount all of the men, because they weren't even home.  If we hadn't been so busy, I would have been way more creeped out by the peculiar gadget, but we were moving and groovin', and the bread machine was quickly all but forgotten.

Later in the afternoon, Jacob came into the house.  He had been playing outside with a friend all day.  "Mom, can we keep the bread machine?"
"Oh my God! Are you the one who has been moving it all day?"
"Yes!  I want to keep it!"
I laughed  - at him for wanting that old machine and for tracking it all day, and at myself for thinking that there was some deeper message trying to come to me through a bread machine! "Yes, fine.  Keep the machine."
"Yay!"  he said, and he quickly scooped up the machine and put it into my trunk before I could change my mind.  Mystery solved!

So, what's the point of this story in a month full of gratitude?  Well, it's multi-purposeful, actually.  For one, I'm thankful for a touch of humor on a very busy, and somewhat emotional, day.  I'm especially grateful for the ability to laugh at myself.  People who can't make fun of themselves can be miserable, and while I certainly have my miserable moments, I think I'm a pretty good sport most of the time.  I'm also grateful for my beautiful boys, for their sweetness and innocence, a sharp contrast to much of what I am witness to many days.  Every time I think of it, I have to smile at the thought of Jacob's excitement over a bread machine, and these days, anything that makes me smile is worthy of gratitude.

This morning I got up early, as usual.  I looked at the bread machine, and thought, "What the hell?  May as well use it."  A honey wheat bread is mixing I type, and I'm the one who is now excited about seeing the happiness on Jacob's face when he wakes up to freshly baked bread.  A piece of fresh warm bread with melted butter and jelly is undoubtedly a special treat on a crisp autumn morning.  Maybe I really was meant to keep the bread machine after all.  At any rate, here's to it!  Bon Appetit!

Sweet Spruce Street

Two years ago I wrote this post about my parents' house. Go ahead and read it.  I'll wait for you to come back.

You know how I said I wished I had some pictures of my own childhood to include?  Well, I now happen to have some on my computer from the slide show I made for the anniversary party this summer.  Take a look:

The Megans, me and our dog Bart on the front porch.  Bart was notorious for running all through town unattended and chewing the crotch out of any underwear left on the floor.  What a lovely dog!   

I know that this is from 5th grade because of my dress.  One of my good friends and I had the same dress for our 5th grade Christmas chorus concert.  I also remember that my grandmother was very sick at Christmas that year.  She tried to come to the concert (my first), but she had to leave early in the show.  She slept in the car until it was over, because she was too weak to sit through the performance.  

My parents' wedding - August 1, 1987.  I always chuckle when I look at these pictures because you can see my neighbor's daughter watching through their upstairs bedroom window.  I would have watched too, of course, but I bet she didn't know she was going to be in all of their wedding pictures! 

I'm pretty sure this was 1994.  It was the same year the mall burned down.  Blair county folks, was that '94?  We got a heck of a lot of snow that year! 

One of many visits from one of my dad's dearest friends.  

Megan's birthday?  My birthday?  Not sure.  I was still in high school, because the kitchen hadn't been remodeled yet.  Nice hat, right?  Wish I still had it! 

Oh my goodness...this was taken before my mom tore up the old brown carpet, and before they had decent living room furniture.  Must be the winter of 1987 - me, Megan and our dog, Nick.  He was notorious for unprovoked biting.  We really didn't have good luck with dogs.  

So why am I posting pictures and referring to a post that I wrote two years ago?  Well, because the time has finally come for my parents to move.  Close to three years ago, my dad was diagnosed with a very rare form of lymphoma.  We recently found out that he also has leukemia.  I'm not going to go into the details of his illness and the treatment. I will simply say that the prognosis isn't great.  He is on the waiting list for a bone marrow transplant, but at this point, there's not much more that can be done besides pray, and to try to prepare for what the future will bring.  Part of that preparation includes moving to a home which is more accessible for a person who is ill.  

Thankfully, they found a home not far from where they currently live.  It has a bedroom, full bath, and study on the first floor.  The inspection went well, and so far the purchase has gone smoothly.  We haven't started actually moving their things yet, but we will soon.  There's a lot to be done, for sure.  

I know I said I wasn't going to complain, so I really hope that this entry doesn't come across as whiny. I don't mean to whine at all.  In fact, I am filled with gratitude as I type these words.  I am grateful that my parents were able to find another home while my dad is still capable of participating in the decision making.  I'm very grateful that they will be less than a mile away.  However, the truth is that my gratitude is also tinged with sorrow.  While I can find hours of joy remembering the years of living within those walls, on the porch and in the yard, I am also terribly saddened at the thought of leaving the house which was part of our family for 70 years.  

I often reflect on the fact that my life could have turned out very differently than it did.  I was born into a situation that had the potential to be rather detrimental to a child's development.  But my mom had the support she needed to rise above a kind of chaos that traps many people for generations.  Because of her strength, my sister and I had everything we needed.  Sure, some things could have been better, but no one has a perfect childhood.   I can genuinely say that when I look back now, I am actually grateful for all of my life experiences, good or bad.   No, life wasn't perfect, but it was pretty darn good.  And it was good in large part, due to the fact that my mom married Terry.  Together they gave us a stable home in a nice neighborhood with a good school district.  Together they gave us a normal, happy family life with dogs, cats, fish, bunnies, a squirrel, a couple of lizards, a few guinea pigs, a few mice, and a turtle!  I'm joking (well, not really, we did actually have all of those animals, just not at one time!).  In all seriousness, we were given a good life, and that life was lived on Spruce Street.  No matter where I went, from Meadville to Pittsburgh, Berlin to the Bahamas, I always knew that Spruce Street was home.  As much as I love my current house  (and I do really love it) , I still consider Spruce Street my home.  Some thing you just don't outgrow, and my childhood homestead is one of those things.  

It's going to be very hard to leave that house behind.  It's going to be even harder to walk by it and see someone else living in it.  I worry very much about Jacob and how he will cope with the change.  And I worry about my dad, not just for his health, but also for how he will cope with leaving the house he has called home for nearly 70 years.  I pray that God will give us all the strength to endure whatever the future holds with grace and dignity.  But in the meantime, I thank God for the wonderful foundation that was laid inside that house.  I am blessed to have called it my home for almost 30 years, and I will continue to be grateful for those times, that home, until the day I die.  To someone else, it may just be four walls and some flooring, but to me it means so much more.  To me, it will always be home, even if only in my heart.  

Yeah, You Got That Something

If you read my blog regularly, you already know how much I love my husband.  I've spent many a day at the computer, typing away about how wonderful he is, how much he balances me, how grateful I am to have him in my life.  Those things couldn't be truer, but I don't want to bore you all with the same sentiments over and over.  The Lord knows I repeat myself enough.  Still, this month just wouldn't be an accurate reflection of gratitude if I didn't give Greg at least a little shout out.  (If you want to read about how much I love him, click here for a story about our first kiss, or you can scroll through the archives and find about 75 other posts about Greg!)  To change it up just a little, I thought that I would write about the body part I think is Greg's sexiest.  Any guesses as to what I think it is?  He's a handsome man, it'll be hard to pin it down to one.

Still guessing?

Like I said, he's a handsome man.  He has a flat, defined stomach, strong arms, long, lean legs, and beautifully straight, white teeth.  Of course, you all know that I love him for much more than a sexy physique.  Every day I love him more, and I'll love him more when he's old and flabby than I do today...as long as he doesn't lose his teeth!  That just might be a deal breaker!  Just kidding! Seriously, though, while all of the above attributes make him a very desirable man, the sexiest parts of him by far are his hands.

Greg's hands are the perfect analogy for Greg as a whole.  They are big, strong and manly.  They can fix all kind of things around the house.  They can withstand extreme temperatures.  They're always a little dry and rough around the edges, but they are as tender as they are brawny.  They can tie the most intricate knots on barely visible fishing line.  They can untangle the most complex knots the in my delicate necklace chains.  He would use his hands to protect us if he had to, but never to harm us.  His hands are Greg embodied in one physical feature - rugged and durable, yet warm and gentle.  He may appear macho, but the truth is that he cried at Fried Green Tomatoes.  Enough said.

When I look at his hands, I vividly remember his giant palms and thick fingers gently gliding over Andrew's newborn head with ease and affection.  It's one of the best memories I have, my husband enamored with our son, his strong and rugged hands the perfect juxtaposition to the baby's fresh innocence.  He uses his hands to provide for us, to guide us, and to dote on us.  When he rubs my back or takes my hand, I feel nothing but love from him and for him, and for that, I am grateful.

Now, after reading this little blurb, I challenge you not to check out his hands next time you see him!  ;)

Oh, and did you figure out the title is a excerpt from the Beatles, "I want to hold your hand?"

It's All Important

I said in my first post of the month that I'm grateful for the little thing that make life better, and that's 100% true.  To me, the big things are my health, the health and safety of my family, our happiness - the things that money can't buy.  Really, though, I'm able to focus on those "things" as being in the bigger picture, because I am fortunate enough not to have to worry so much about what I consider small potatoes.  There are a lot of people, however, who would rank what I deem trivial as quite consequential.  For example, if my car broke down, I would be inconvenienced until it was fixed.  I would probably complain about it (as long as it didn't happen in November!) but it's not something that I would consider life changing.  I know I have the means to fix it, and I know that my life will resume normalcy within a reasonable amount of time.  There are many people, however, who don't have the means to fix their vehicles, who don't have someone else's car to borrow in the meantime, who could lose their job because of a broken down car, who then couldn't afford to fix the car, and who could be without transportation for an indefinite amount of time.  In the long run, a broken down car could prevent someone from getting and keeping a job, from paying the rent, from feeding their family.  Now a broken down car isn't small potatoes at all.  It's pretty darn monumental.    

Part of the point of these gratitude blogs is to help me to be less selfish, to help me see the bigger picture and not become upset and complain about silly things like a broken down car.  (My car is fine.  This is just an example.)  I try to be grateful all year long, but I'm only human.  I certainly do my share of complaining. Even during my best times, there is always room for improvement.  I don't believe anyone can be too grateful.  It always amazes me how quickly I see an improvement in my own attitude when I give myself these thankfulness challenges.  It's only November 3rd.  I actually started on Oct 31st, so I've been working on my "attitude of gratitude" for four days, and I already see an improvement.  

I didn't sleep last night.  Big surprise there, right?  When I am awake in bed, tossing and turning, I get terribly frustrated.  I'm so tired.  I just want some rest, some escape, but for some reason it eludes me.  Always. Almost every morning, Greg will say, "Maybe tonight we'll sleep well."  Na.  I gave up hoping for that a long time ago.  It's just not meant to be.  To make matters worse, if I do happen to fall into a light sleep, I am frequently awakened just after I drift off.  Last night it was the cat.  Then it was Greg snoring.  Then it was this knot in my back that has been bugging me for the last few weeks.  Do you see where this is going? Complain, complain, complain!  Time to stop!

I've been doing pretty well with my 30 day challenge during waking hours.  I have had to bite my tongue a few times.  I'm aware of my words and my attitude, and I am working to change them.  But when I am half awake, that deeply ingrained habit rears its ugly head.  It's just a habit, though - complaining - and it can be broken.  This morning, before I got out of bed, while my head was still foggy and my eyes were still closed, I was able to redirect myself.  I thought about the victims of hurricane Sandy.  Some of them are sleeping in shelters.  Some of them are without heat.  Most of them are without electricity.  They lost their homes.  They can't get gas in their cars, food to eat, water to drink.  They watched their friends and family die.  And who knows when the nightmare will be over for them?  It's going to take a long, long time to rebuild and repair.  I can't fathom what they are going through, not in my wildest dreams.

With the victims of the hurricane in mind, I quit my mental yammering.  I am grateful to be sleeping in a warm, dry house.  I am grateful to have a cat that I love safe and sound in my care (even at 430 a.m. when he's playing with the hangers in my bedroom closet), because I'm sure lots of people said goodbye to their pets in the hurricane.   I'm grateful that my boys are sleeping soundly in the next rooms (I read a terrible story about  a mother who lost grip of her two young sons, ages 2 and 4, while trying to evacuate.  It's killing me to think about it.  Can you imagine watching your boys being washed away, frantically trying to save them?  Oh my God, I can't take it! That poor woman!)  I'm grateful that my husband, my best friend, my biggest supporter and the love of my life, is sleeping soundly (or should I say soundfully) beside me.  These are not little things.  These are big things, big things that we all take for granted every single day.

So, instead of bemoaning my chronic exhaustion this morning, I thanked God for my blessings and prayed for those who need Him much more than I do right now.  A few days ago, Andrew came to the computer when I was looking at some of the hurricane pictures.  He asked about what was happening, and I explained it to him in plain and simple terms.  A really bad storm caused a lot of damage.  He stared at the photos for a while, and finally said, "Mom, I know who can stop that damage.  God.  God can stop it."  God did not stop the damage.  The damage is done.  But only God can help the people in those areas find the strength and perseverance to rebuild, repair and heal.  May God be with them.

The little things and the big things are not separate.  They go hand in hand.  They are all worthy of appreciation.  Take the time to be thankful for the little things today.  You will be happier, I promise.

Great Aunt Gratitude

On Monday, I called my great aunt Carmen to see if she needed anything to get her through the storm. The conversation went something like this:

Me:  "Do you have something to eat if we lose power for a few days?" 

Carmen: "Oh yeah.  I'm fine.  I have a can of tuna."  She was serious, but I had to laugh.  

Me: "A can of tuna will hardly last you four days!"  

Carmen: "Oh, well, I also have a can of pineapple, and I can put some water in the jug in my fridge."  

Me: "Tuna and pineapple.  Um...Well, I'm going to the store to get a few things for myself, so what can I grab for you?  What will you eat in a pinch?"  She couldn't think of anything right away, but about an hour later, I got a call.  

Carmen: "Koelle, I thought about what I will need to get through the storm.  I need a quarter pound of Swiss cheese, a loaf of whole wheat bread and five candy bars."

Me: "Five candy bars?"

Carmen: "Yeah, you know, like the chocolate ones with nuts.  Snickers, Baby Ruth. Whatever else." 

Sure, OK, who doesn't want 5 candy bars to get them through a power outage?!  So, I went to the store and got her  5 candy bars, along with some water and other "real" foods to tide her over in case we lost power.  When I got home, Greg was heading out the door so I gave him the groceries to deliver.  Andrew and I took our afternoon nap (told ya I was an avid napper!) and I awoke to this voicemail on my phone: "Koelle!  Dear God!  Thank you so much for the food!  You didn't have to get all that!  Boy, I'm gonna feast tonight!  I'm going to start with the Doritos, work my way through the chicken soup, and then have either a chocolate pudding or applesauce for dessert.  I haven't decided yet!"  If you know my aunt Carmen, you can hear her speaking, I'm certain.  If you don't know her, well, I'm sorry you don't, because the best part about her isn't necessarily what she says, but rather how she says it.  I don't know anyone who is more grateful for the smallest things than my aunt Carmen.  No matter what I do or say, even if it's the tiniest thing imaginable, she acts like a kid on Christmas morning.  She's such a joy to be around, and such a blessing to all who know her.  

My aunt Carmen has certainly had more than her share of despair.  On top of all the other heartbreak life can bring, she buried her parents, her sister, her husband, numerous friends and cousins and two children.  I can't imagine finding the will to go on after losing one child, let alone two.  She became paralyzed about 6 years ago, but she didn't let that get her down either.  She worked hard to regain her strength, spent time in a nursing home with Alzheimer's patients while she waited for her house to be made accessible, and then returned to live independently, as if she had no set-back at all.  Instead of being upset that she had to be in a locked Alzheimer's ward for a month when she herself was completely lucid, she actually loved the staff and residents there.  She even said that if she ever walked again, she wanted to return to volunteer on the Alzheimer's floor!  I went to visit her a few times when she was in the nursing home, and it was all I could do to get through the halls and into her room to close the door (and the madness) behind me.  I could not have lived there for a month and stayed sane, let alone been grateful for the experience.  

Carmen never complains about her life.  Never.  One time when I was in the midst of all those terrible migraines, I sat at her dining room table, whining about my headaches.  She looked at me, from her wheelchair, not long after her son George died, and said, "Oh, it must be so terrible to have a headache every day like that."  She was completely sincere.  She really felt bad for me and my aching head.  I can still see her sitting across from me with such genuine concern, and I can remember how little I felt.  I thought, "Really, Koelle?  You're going to complain about a headache to this woman?  Nice."  But I guarantee you that thought never crossed her mind.  She's simply not that kind of person.  She really felt bad for me and my confounded headaches.  I can't tell you how amazing it is to have someone who is so selfless in my life.  She is someone I can turn to for grounding, someone who can put life into perspective over a cup of coffee, someone who has unintentionally made me a better person.  

I know when she reads this she will tell me that she doesn't deserve such praise, but she's simply wrong.  I don't care what happened when she was young.  We all make mistakes.  We all falter.  We all have things in our lives that we regret.  The difference between the rest of us and people like Carmen is really the ability to remain faithful and grateful.  Throughout all of her hardships, she did not become bitter or angry or hopelessly depressed.  She never blames anyone else for her misfortune, and she isn't jealous of those who have more than she does.  I know she is sad at times. I'm betting she's a lot sadder than she lets on to most people, but her faith is strong, her will is stronger, and her gratitude is the strongest yet.  She has a way of making anyone around her feel like the most special person on earth.  She draws you in, lets you know she loves you and expects nothing in return.  What bigger blessing can a person ask for?  I wish everyone had an aunt Carmen in their life.  She makes the world a happier place.