Falk Talk 2021

So . . . after a two year hiatus, the Falks are back with Falk Talk.  Last year we opted to skip a wrap up of 2020 hoping to put all of that mess behind us.  Yes, we're laughing at that, too. 

But 2020 and 2021 were not all bad.  Not at all.  Here are some wonderful highlights of the last two years. 

In the summer of 2020 we broke out of our Austin lock down and decided to "isolate" on the beach at South Padre Island.  There was plenty of room to social distance, we rented a wonderful condo with an ocean view, and we got to take in some parasailing. 

We were not able to go to Michigan for Thanksgiving in 2020, but we were able to smoke a couple of turkeys and have Milaka's family over for a feast in the back yard.  God bless the mild Texas autumns!

For Christmas, we were (once again) able to take advantage of the mild weather and have Milaka's family over to exchange presents outside.  

We also took the opportunity for a family photo shoot. 

January fo 2021 we had the first snow day we'd had in a long time.  We were so excited to see that little dusting of snow.  We made little snowmen and hit each other with snowballs.  It was so cute.  We had no idea what was in store just a month later.

Winter Story Uri will forever be referred to as "Snowpocalypse" by Texans.  It was beautiful, but also terrible at the same time.  The Falk House was very blessed because we never lost power (unlike some in adjacent neighborhoods), but we did lose running water for about 5 days.  We boiled snow to make coffee!  Gotta have coffee!

Once things thawed out, Gordon and Milaka were able to serve with Austin Disaster Relief Network and help clear out a lot of damaged trees around the area.  

Our first born turned 21 and our youngest graduated from high school. 

Both kids are now attending Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama.  We are so excited that they are together on that beautiful campus!

In the fall the guys met up in Chicago for a wedding (and visited family) while the girls met up at Samford for Parents' Weekend. 

November saw us once again in Michigan with family celebrating a victory over Ohio State.  GO BLUE!

That pretty much brings us up to date!  

We certainly hope that your year has gone well and we are looking forward to seeing what blessings 2022 brings. 

Changing of the Decade!

Happy New Year!

Yes, Porch Talk is a little late this year.  Time snuck up on me as it is wont to do.  But . . . better late than not at all!

Welcome to the 2019 edition of Porch Talk

Princess had an eventful year.  She finished out her freshman year on a high note and started her sophomore year strong.  She is studying nutrition and dietetics at Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama and she's loving every minute of it.  (Well, maybe not the minutes leading up to finals, but you get the picture.)  While at Samford, she is also a part-time nanny and a very active member of Zeta Tau Alpha.  She's a busy young woman and we are very proud of her!

Princess and friends

Princess organized a walking team in Birmingham!

Buddy reached a milestone last summer when he passed his driver's test and got his license.  We were able to buy him a "dope" car (a 2004 gold Buick Regal) so that he can drive himself to his first official job: a certified life guard at our local YMCA.  He spends his time studying, guarding lives and playing basketball with friends.  A junior in high school this year, he is starting to look at colleges.  Yikes!

He passed!

Buddy and friends took a camping trip to Big Bend in July.  Yes, it was hot.

We opened a second GradePower location in 2018 and running both has kept Gordon pretty busy.  He has found time, however, to complete several really cool home improvement projects and regularly feeds family and friends with amazing smoked meats.

The new backyard dining area.  Come visit!

August found us both in Palm Springs again for the annual Flock of Grouse weekend of shenanigans.  There was much eating, drinking and floating in the pool.  Some people even played golf.

Yes, it was hot.

We also made time to go to a couple of little shows that came through Austin.

And we walked in the Austin JDRF One Walk in honor of our T1 Princess.

I'm still teaching 8th grade theatre at Veritas Academy as well as running the Study Hall program.  This is my tenth year at the school and it never gets easier saying good-bye to the seniors.

Earlier in the summer I was able to travel to Michigan to represent Texas at my sister-in-law's retirement party.  I was a fun and relaxing weekend with the family.

Speaking of family, I'm very proud to announce that my brother published TWO books this year AND his animated short is getting a lot of attention at film festivals around the world.  (Lance's books can be found on Amazon.)

One of the biggest events of the year for me was playing Clairee in a production of Steel Magnolias at the EmilyAnn Theatre in Wimberley.  It felt so good to get back on stage!  I was truly blessed to be a part of this amazing group of women (and a few men) who bonded together to bring this story to life.  I am forever changed!

Sadly, 2019 took from us one of the most vibrant and kind people I've ever had the privilege to know.  Gordon's brother, Scott, passed away suddenly on May 17.  His absence is felt not only in our family, but in his community.  He had a big heart and shared it in every aspect of his life.  His funeral was a beautiful celebration of that life.

We look forward to seeing what blessings 2020 brings not only to our family but to yours.  Please stay in touch!

As always, we pray grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Farewell 2018

So . . . 2018 is now officially history. I have some thoughts.
2018 was one of the most life-changing years for me in a long time - good changes and bad.
I lost two loving and wonderful men - my father to Alzheimer’s and my brother-in-law to depression. One was anticipated, the other was devastatingly sudden.

I learned how to count carbs and calculate insulin dosages.
I saw my daughter walk across the stage and complete her primary education. Three months later, we waved at her as we drove away from her dorm 12 hours away from our front door.
I saw a Banksy in London.
I wept in front of a Monet in Paris.
I ate escargot on the Champs-Élysées.
I walked the narrow streets of Assisi.
I saw Michelangelo's David.
I experienced socialized medicine in Rome with my daughter.
I visited the Italian countryside on which my grandfather fought for his country.
I dozed on the beach in Cancun.
I had wounds that I thought were healed reopen as a brave woman held up her right hand.
I sang on a CD that was critically acclaimed.
I watched dear friends struggle with loss, with health, with finances and with family.
I taught myself how to make carbonara.
I turned 50.
I learned the true meaning of physical pain when I endured an infected tooth.
And despite all the bad stuff, I will look back on 2018 with fondness. I not only “survived”, I grew. I experienced all of the above, absorbed it and tried to use it to better myself and those around me.
There’s only one thing I would change about 2018, but the rest I will use to make 2019 (and beyond) better for my family and for the world. If you are reading this, that means YOU.
I don’t pray flowers and butterflies and perfection for you for 2019. That would not only be boring, but it would be completely unrealistic. I pray for change, for growth and for love. I pray for new people and experiences that you remember for a lifetime. I pray that you endure the pain that this year brings, and that you rest in the joy that is offered. I pray for healing and for peace.
And I pray that at the end of 2019, you will thank this year for its lessons as you welcome 2020 with hope and excitement for the growth to come.

Big Ole Can O'Worms

So I've kind of avoided the subject of religion here for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which is that I shrink from conflict like a glacier from a volcano and I know that religion can stir up a lot of conflict. Another reason is that I'm always afraid that I'm going to be asked the "tough" questions about my faith and I hate saying, "I just don't know" or "Well, you just have to have faith". I have friends who have fabulous answers for all sorts of questions. I just freeze. I'm afraid that I'm going to seriously offend someone or that someone just won't like me because I'm Christian, etc. So I avoid the subject.

But not right now. I have some stuff on my mind.

I know that a lot of people are offended and annoyed by Christians who try to share their faith. (I also know that there are a lot of completely obnoxious Christians out there who are very pushy! We're just going to leave them out of it for now.) If people really know and understand Christianity, I would think that they would be offended and annoyed if we DON'T try to share our faith. We believe that Christ is the only way to reconcile with the Father and, therefore, be with Him in eternity. That path is open to anyone. Anyone at all. (Yes, it's exclusive - there are no other roads to heaven - but it's inclusively exclusive. All you have to do is believe.) Now if I believe that only those who accept Christ will be with Him in eternity, and I choose not to share that information with you, wouldn't you be a little offended? Wouldn't you wonder why I didn't think that you were good enough to share that very important tidbit with? As I was thinking about it, I kind of equated it to knowing that there was a place where you could go and get a free car - any car that you'd like - complete with gas and maintenance for life and all you had to do was go to this place and say, "Please". If I went and got a brand new dream car and started driving it around and didn't tell anyone else that they could get a free car, too, what would that say about me? What would people think when they found out? I know that some people prefer to walk and some just like to ride their bike or the bus. That is their choice. But wouldn't they appreciate me telling them anyway?

A few weeks back we had a series in our Sunday School class about what it means to be a Christian in today's world. Why does the word "Christian" put off so many people? Why do some people think that they wouldn't be welcome in a church? Why do some people loathe the idea of coming into a church? Is it Christ? Or is it His followers? We talked about and debated those ideas for several weeks. It was sobering. It made me look at myself and wonder what non-Christians see. What kind of messages am I giving off? Am I someone who people want to know? Am I someone who people want to flee? Are they surprised when they find out that I'm a Christian? And if they are, is that good or bad?!?

(I feel that I'm not really getting to any specific point - that I'm just rambling. But that's okay! It's my blog! I'm trying to work something out here!)

A few years ago I had a conversation that I wish 1) I could remember all of and 2) I wish I could have again so I could defend myself and my faith better. I was working for a small business that provided after school classes. We rented space at several places around town - one place being a church. The church stated in the contract that people who came into their building and rented space to conduct classes could not display any anti-Christian or Pagan symbols while they were there. I forget the exact wording. I had to let the owner of the business know about that clause because one of her instructors was a Pagan and wore Pagan symbols on rings and necklaces. I must have said something about Pagans that she didn't like because later she confronted me about it. She said that she knew I was a Christian, but hadn't pegged me for being judgmental. I honestly don't know what I said! But her confrontation got me thinking. How many times had I sat in meetings in that business and listened to most of them make fun of Christians and/or Christian holidays and not said anything. I just sat there thinking that that was their own opinion and I didn't want to be the party pooper. I didn't laugh and I didn't take part, but I didn't defend myself. Now I say one thing (and I still don't remember what it was) and all of a sudden I was called on the carpet. She was also pretty ticked about the clause in the contract. She wanted to look for another location, but the brochures had already been printed.

Think about the clause, though. We were asking to use a church. Christians revere their churches as a place of worship. We even go so far as to call a church "God's house". It stands to reason that they would not want someone who appears to have authority (like an instructor) come into God's house displaying Pagan symbols. What kind of faith and devotion would the church leaders have if they allowed that? Just like a vegan restaurant would not allow you to rent their party room for a demonstration on how to cook with beef.

Please don't think that I'm trying to play a "Christian victim" here. I don't really feel victimized. I just notice things. Discrepancies in behavior, in others and in myself, when it comes to the topic of religion.

Now, recalling my previous claim that I can't stand conflict, I hope that I haven't offended or weirded out any readers here. I say that Cabin 77 is where I am myself. This is me. I am a Christian. I will post more on my faith at some point in the future. To tell the truth, most of my friends in everyday life are Christian. My blog is where I get opinions and points of view based on different world views and different faiths. I enjoy that! Please feel free to comment, but please be kind. Remember the picture of the volcano and the glacier. And don't worry, I'll go back to posting about the kids soon. Buddy putting Band-Aids on his nostrils is infinitely more entertaining than dry posts about religion!

And now I will close. I had a big day today. This morning I led about 500 kids in singing songs about God in Vacation Bible School. So, of course, I had to question my religion! LOL! Would you trust your child with me?!? ;-)

I Feel Safe

Buddy is in a superhero phase right now. For his birthday he got two Batman dolls and one Superman doll. He also got a Spiderman riding a motorcycle, but Spidey just isn't as big as Batman or Superman. And Spidey doesn't have a cape. Buddy was running around the house singing a song (that he wrote himself), "I'm a superhero! I have a cape!"

Princess has a new Barbie doll. A bride Barbie. Princess is in heaven. However, she keeps trying to make Superman marry Bride Barbie. Buddy has explained several times in no uncertain terms that superheroes don't get married. His reasoning is that they wear capes instead. Princess met his argument that Bride Barbie also wears a cape, but it's around her head - her veil. So for the rest of the day Superman, Batman and Bride Barbie flew all over the house fighting crime. I do believe that we live in the safest house on the block.

Today they were playing "Superhero". Apparently that game consists of them running around from room to room yelling, "Come here, Batman!" Or, "Come here, Superman!" Or even yelling (as they pass the dog), "Come here, Superdog!" They fly up the stairs and defeat the Joker. Then they fly down the stairs and . . . defeat the Joker. I think that the Joker is the only super villian that they know.

Now they have me joining in. I'm Superwoman. I have defeated the Joker three times today already. I defy any telemarketer to call today. I shall take them all down, for I am Superwoman!

First Day of Home School 2005

I was looking over some old e-mails that I had saved as journal entries. This is an account of Princess' first day of home school. She is in a university model school where she is actually in class on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I home school (with their lesson plans) on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We love it! It has been so rewarding to be an active part of her learning process. And I love the flexibility to be able to practice spelling words in sidewalk chalk at the park if we want to. Anyway, read on for her first day at home.

Okay, by about 9:30 a.m. Princess had 1) gotten two time outs, 2) run screaming down the street, "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" and 3) flung poop on the wall. But it got better! I'll elaborate.

1) We had a slightly rough (and I mean that in the literal sense, not the sarcastic sense) transition from mommy/daughter to teacher/student. She was treating everything like a game that she could control (my daughter? Bossy? NO! - that was sarcastic) and was not taking the lesson seriously. We were outside in the driveway doing the Clock Game (I drew a clock face in chalk on the driveway and she was supposed to follow my directions in going from one number to another - learning about making letters clockwise or counter clockwise) and she was jumping on any number that she felt like jumping on. Time-out number one.

2) The Gingerbread Man thing is directly related to #1. After the first time-out we had a good few minutes and then she took off. Time-out number two and lecture. Now, you know my blood can run a little hot sometimes. God was SO in control here! I was calm, collected and serious, but very much in control of myself. My inner me was screaming "We've made a mistake! I can't do this! She will never 'let' me teacher her!" While God was soothing me and saying, "I led you here. I am in control. I will work it out." So I heard myself very calmly explaining to her that this was school. This was a lesson and she had to treat it as such. I asked her if she would run screaming down the hall during Mrs. S's class and she laughed and said that she wouldn't. I told her to treat me like a teacher because that is what I am during lessons. I told her that if she wanted to, or needed to, she could call me Mrs.Mommy. She laughed at that, too, but she immediately changed and got into the game and then the rest of the morning went very smoothly. Well . . . except for . . .

3) She went back inside to potty and was gone a very long time. I came back in to check on her and she said that when she wiped she had gotten poop on her hand. She was freaking out a little! So she had shaken her hand to get it off and it had gotten on the wall. Easily taken care of! Not really all that serious! But in the context of first day of homeschool, quite funny.

First of all, all praise is to God. He was all over this day. And praise to Him that he prompted me to get out of bed early and have some prayer time before I got the kids up. I cannot believe how God has blessed us with this school! I am overwhelmed and so excited! And I also realized how much Buddy is going to get out of our time in the home classroom, too. I'm just so fired up! I know that we will have not so great days, but we started this venture with poop on our walls! And ended the day glowing! How cool!

Back to present day. It's interesting to go back and read how we started the school year. Princess has matured SO much since that first day. I'm excited to see what next year brings.

Belated Father's Day Post

Here is a copy of something that I wrote on Father's Day.

Today is Father's Day. There are five significant fathers in my life who I would like to celebrate today. They shaped my life and my family.

The first is my grandfather, who we called Bigdaddy. I didn't know him as a father, but he was the best grandfather a kid could have. He had a rough, gravely, but tender voice. I remember nights at Cabin 77 when we would all sit on the screened-in porch and Bigdaddy would sing old country songs. He would also talk to the bullfrogs and to the doves. He taught me to fish. He never showed favorites between his two grandchildren - me and my brother. He told the best stories! I realized by the time I was a teenager that there was no way he could have been a cowboy AND an Indian AND a gladiator. He was also a wonderful great-grandfather to Princess. He adored her. I have a priceless photo of the two of them. They are sitting in two large comfy chairs. She is lining up all of her Hot Wheels cars on the arm of her chair. I remember that she was describing each of the cars as she "parked" them. He was captivated. That year for Christmas he bought her Hot Wheels cars.

Bigdaddy was on the front lines in World War II. He served in the 36th Infantry Division and proudly wore the Texas T-Patch. It is hard for me to watch "Saving Private Ryan" because some of the battles depicted mirror very closely some of the experiences I know he went through.

Bigdaddy was an honorable man. He was worthy of respect. I miss him.

Next is my dad. Now that I'm an adult, when I look back on my life and our circumstances I realize how difficult it must have been for him. He had two loves - his family and theatre. It's hard to maintain both of those, but he did. He was the director of a community theatre when my brother was born. When that job ended, he became a theatre professor. He taught during the day and then rehearsed productions at night. But I don't ever remember a time when we didn't have dinner together. His rehearsals usually didn't start until about 7:00 so we would have dinner and once a week we would have a family game night. Sometimes when he would have a rehearsal on a weekend he would bring me and my brother to the auditorium to play. We knew that place like the backs of our hands.

Dad was off during the summers and that was great! Every weekend we'd go to Bigdaddy's cabin at the lake. Dad taught me to water ski. He didn't teach me to fish, but I do remember lots of mornings and afternoons with him fishing off of our dock.

The most important thing that Dad taught me was the meaning of unconditional love. We never really talked at length about it, but I just always knew that there was nothing I could do to make him stop loving me. Oh, he got mad at me! But I never thought that he didn't love me. (I may have said that, just to be pouty, but I never believed it.) In that way he did an excellent job of mirroring God's love for me. And that's one of the most important jobs a parent has.

Another dad to whom I owe a debt of gratitude is Hubby's father. Tony. I never got to meet him. He died just after Hubby and I started dating. Tony was planning a trip to Austin to visit Hubby and to meet me in May of 1995. He died on the treadmill at his gym in March of that year. Everyone who knew Tony loved him. At family gatherings his presence is still missed. I hear stories about him all the time and every story is bathed in love, humor and warmth. From pictures I see that his smile lives in Hubby's smile. Obviously he is important to my husband's family, but he is important to me, too because he did a wonderful job of teaching Hubby how to be a father.

Herman, my brother, is the only father in this list who has step-kids. Herman and his wife have a wonderful story. They were high school sweethearts. When my brother went away to college they decided that they didn't want a long distance relationship and broke up. I know for a fact that Herman never stopped loving her. She married and had two kids and then the marriage ended. About a year after her divorce was final, she came to Austin to visit some friends and looked Herman up. I think she just wanted to make sure that there were no hard feelings (she married one of his close friends from high school). They went out to dinner and the rest is history. Kind of.

When they started to get serious, Herman stepped back a bit because he knew that she came with kids. My brother is not impetuous at all. He's spontaneous, but not impetuous. He knew that he loved her, but he wanted to make sure that he could love the kids as a father should. He weighed the pros and cons. Because the ex-husband was / is a non-presence in the kids' lives Herman knew that HE (Herman) would more than likely be the only dad that these kids ever knew. He wanted to make sure that he could be that man. He did not take that responsibility lightly. NOW the rest is history. He stepped up to the plate and hit a home run. He is amazing. And now they have a child together and he's all the more amazing for making a blended family work. My sis-in-law said that last week her son called from his grandparents house (where he's been visiting for about a week) and immediately asked for Herman!

Now for the topper. My husband. He was born to be a dad. Our "let's talk about having kids" conversation went like this:

Me: Well, we've been married a couple of years now, do you think we need to talk about when we want to have kids?
Hubby: I'm ready!(That was in 1998. Princess was born in 2000 - after only two tries - so you can guess whose feet were dragging!)

He has been the sole provider of income since I got pregnant. We decided as a couple that I would stay home with the kids. Sometimes it's hard, but he's never complained and he's never asked me to go back to work. He wants (as much as I do) for the kids to be brought up by US and not a day care worker. (But we are both VERY pro-Mother's Day Out!)

He was right there during labor and delivery of both kids making sure that I got whatever I wanted or needed. And when I damaged a nerve in my left leg during Princess' delivery and couldn't stand or walk without crutches for a week, he changed every diaper and brought Princess to me for every feeding - day or night.

He prays for and with the kids. The kids see and hear him pray about everything - big and little. They see him serve at church, they see him serve at home. And they see him do it joyously.

They also see him treat me with respect. He thanks me for dinner. He helps around the house. He gets me flowers for my birthday and our anniversary. He compliments me in front of them. They see that he values me as a woman and as a mom.

I am so aware that we shape our kids' future relationships. I know that Hubby is doing a great job of that. I pray that Princess will go out only with men who treat her the way her daddy treats her - like the precious gift that she is. And I pray that Buddy will find a woman who will allow him to be the husband and the father that Hubby is teaching him to be.

Happy Father's Day to the best of the best!

I Love It When a Plan Comes Together

Okay, here was my plan for Saturday, June 17:

Leave Lubbock (my parents' home) at about 8:30 a.m. Get to the half-way point (San Angelo) in time for lunch. The kids would fall asleep soon after we leave San Angelo and they would sleep until Fredericksburg - a stretch, but not out of the realm of possibilities. At Fredericksburg we would stop at the Fredericksburg winery to get a bottle of Hubby's favorite port for Father's Day. We'd get home in time for a relatively early dinner, then the kids and I would finish his Father's Day cards (I got some that had little frames where the kids could draw pictures of them with Hubby). The kids would be in bed by 8:00 so that I could straighten the house before Hubby's flight landed at 9:44. I would time it so that I was filling the tub with a bubble bath about the time that he would walk in.

And God laughed.

It was all going as planned until Fredericksburg. Princess slept only an hour or so, but then she quietly played Barbies and sang to herself and occasionally asked how many more hours until Fredericksburg. Buddy woke up as we entered the parking lot of the winery. Awesome! We walked inside (I carried a sleepy Buddy) and were there no more than three minutes when Buddy gave the loudest burb I've ever heard. Then emptied the contents of his stomach all over me. I will spare you the details, but my first of many thanks to the Lord is that we were traveling with suitcases and I was able to re-clothe us.

After cleaning us and the floor I finally got around to asking about the port. They had some, but couldn't sell me any because they had run out of bottles. The bottle are due there on Monday. Bummer!

I had thought that maybe we would get some ice cream, but then I thought about Buddy and I decided that we just needed to get home. In all honesty, he looked fine. He was running around like nothing was wrong so I just chalked it up to him getting overheated and car sick.

We made it home with plenty of time to spare. Okay, I can do without the wine, but we can finish the cards. I walked in the door and Hubby called. What timing! As I was telling him about our failed trip to Fredericksburg, Buddy came running up to me with arms outstretched. I hugged him and he promptly threw up down my back. Phone call over. So started the rest of my night. Poor little Buddy alternately threw up and dozed until about 9:00 when he could finally keep down some water. Hubby arrived home about 10:30 ( I had called him with a small grocery list of bland foods and cleaning items) and Buddy slept from 11:00 until 7:00 the next morning.

No wine. No bubble bath. But we're all home and together. Yet another thanks offered up to the Lord!

But here's where my plans and God's plan worked together for our good that day: had I called the winery (which I almost did) and found out that they were out of port, we would not have been out of the car at the time that Buddy's illness hit. And you can just imagine how completely horrible that would STILL be. Also, had we stopped in Dripping Springs to get some fast food (which I almost did), we would not have been home when the brunt of it descended. When I got home and realized the timing of all of it, I just thanked God and thanked God.

Now I'm praying that I don't get it. I know that's a complete longshot since my body shielded the floor from the mess at least three times. But I'm hoping that all of the hand washing, glove wearing and showering did SOMETHING to protect me!

Oh, and speaking of protection, after we got home and the severity of the virus showed itself, Princess disappeared upstairs with scissors, masking tape, yarn and a paper bag. She came downstairs wearing a mask that she had fashioned from said materials. She was also wearing a pair of rubber gloves about three sizes too big. Had I had time to unpack my camera between loads of laundry and carpet cleaning I would have taken a picture. It was priceless! And very, very smart.

And The Oscar for Best Performance By a Girl Who Doesn't Want To Clean Her Room Goes To . . .

Princess!!!!
Oh, the drama. The drama.
I told Princess to clean her room before coming downstairs. Without the drama it would have taken about 10 minutes, tops. With the drama, it took about 45. She wailed. She sobbed. Some choice lines:
"I'll be in here for two whole days cleaning and people will forget about me and start to love Buddy better."
"I can't DO it by myself!"
"I need a kiss!"
"You have to HELP me!" (said with the best wail you can imagine)
"I want a hug!"
"Let's make a rule that whoever is in the room when someone is cleaning the room has to help someone clean the room."
I just don't know WHERE the drama comes from!

Animal Planet out our Bedroom Window

This morning I discovered what Princess has known for a few days - we have a family of birds who are using our house for flight school.

Our garage is directly below Princess' room and has a small overhang with a rain gutter. The four babies birds (dubbed Birdy, Fluffy, Tweety, and Chloe by Princess) sit on the gutter under Princess' window and wait patiently for Mommy and Daddy to come feed them. When a parent is in sight, the babies flutter their little wings and cheep for all they are worth. I imagine that they are saying, "Me! Me! I'm hungry! You fed her last time! Pick me! I'm here!" Once the parent has flown off, all becomes quiet again. No bickering. No sibling rivalry. Just primping, preening and stretching until Mom or Dad comes back with another bug or berry.

Every 10 minutes or so the returning parent will give some sort of signal and all four little ones fly away. Within a few minutes they are back on our gutters, stretching and grooming themselves after their exercise. It is wondrous to watch!

Watching the little family prompted this exchange:
Buddy: When I grow up, I'm going to be a baby bird.
Princess: (very grown-up) Buddy, you can't be a baby bird.
Buddy: (disappointed) Why not?
Princess: Because you can't be something that you're not. (in an accommodating way) When you grow up you can be a scientist that studies baby birds and dinosaur bones, but you can't be a baby bird.
Buddy: I don't want dinosaur bones.
Princess: (exasperated) Oh, Buddy!

I like having such original commentary to the documentaries that I see out my window!

Surprise!

In every history of every parent there is a moment when a child becomes a part of the family. I love hearing everyone's story because they are all so different. Some involve a LOT of waiting. Some don't. Our friend Dave was coached by his wife's doctor on what to have ready at home in case he had to deliver their third child. His wife's labors had never gone over the one hour mark. I love the stories!

Several months before my due date I went to see my doctor to talk about my "birth plan". I was very apprehensive about the labor and delivery process because of the experience that I had with Princess. (Here's that story in a nutshell: she was induced two weeks early because the sonogram revealed that she was fairly big and I am not, I pushed for two and a half hours resulting in a pinched nerve in my left leg which caused me to be on crutches for over a week - I literally could not stand to change a diaper for the first two weeks of her life, and I had a third degree episiotomy tear that took forever and a day to heal. No fun. There's a reason she and her brother are three years apart.) So I discussed a c-section with my doctor. He was supportive, but he wanted me to really think about it carefully. I started praying about it that day and I got an answer from God - "Trust Me." Not the answer I wanted. Too vague! I wanted specifics! But I knew that was all I was going to get. I eventually told my doctor that the only way I'd want an automatic c-section was if my son was face-up. Princess was face-up and I think that's where all the hardship started.

Now, fast-forward to June 2. We had a sonogram scheduled at 2:00 and then a follow-up with the doctor at 2:30. From the sonogram they learned that Buddy was already hovering around seven pounds - at 35 weeks 4 days! Whew! Also, he was face-down. Yay! During the doctor visit we started talking about when we'd induce since Buddy was getting big. Princess was induced at 38 weeks (the earliest that they will induce) because she was so big. I guess I just start cooking overtime around month 8! Anyway, the doctor checked and I was 2 cm dilated and 70% effaced. Hubby mentioned that he had a business trip scheduled for later in the week and the nurse said that he shouldn't go anywhere. Then Hubby sealed our fate and said, "Well she's NOT going to have the baby this week!" To which the nurse just laughed and told me that I had better have a bag packed.

That evening Hubby and Princess were going to go help some friends move a couch and I was going to a small diaper shower that a friend of mine had planned for me. I was in the garage at 6:15 p.m. waving good-bye to Hubby and Princess as they backed down our driveway and my water broke. I signaled for Hubby to stop the car and I told him that I thought my water broke. He wasn't convinced. His exact words were, "That's not possible. Go check." So I dutifully went in to the bathroom to check. What exactly I was checking for is not clear. My pants were soaked. I could have told him that in the driveway! No baby head sticking out. Just wet pants. So I went back out and he said he'd stick around until I called the doctor. Well, the doctor wanted me to come in to the hospital just in case so Hubby and a now crying Princess (she was really excited about riding in Daddy's truck with a couch) came back inside.

My brother and his wife and family live less than five minutes from our house so they came over to help out with Princess. I was in such shock that I could actually be having the baby that I just couldn't think of what to pack. My sister-in-law coached me through it - she found a list in my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book and we checked off the list together. After about 30 minutes of packing, I was in the kitchen showing her where breakfast bars were when the first real contraction hit. Whoa buddy. That's when sis-in-law said, "Okay, you guys have to go NOW!" and we did. She's had three kids - the first two came so quickly that she didn't have time for the epidural. When she said NOW, I knew it was serious!

The contractions started to get worse on the way to the hospital. By the time we got there they were between two and four minutes apart and really starting to get bad. We had to walk about TWO MILES from the elevators to the labor and delivery admitting desk - of course stopping every minute or so for a contraction. The nurse met us and got us settled into a room pretty quickly and then the paperwork started. We had registered at another hospital but had to switch at the last minute because the doctor on call was on his way to the second hospital to deliver another baby. So in between horrendous contractions I had to answer all sorts of paperwork questions and then try to hold a pen and sign stuff. The contractions kept getting more and more intense until finally I could barely even breathe.

Yes, contractions are extremely painful. I was very surprised at how painful they were. I did not get to the painful contraction stage with Princess. Because she was induced, I was able to get the epidural before any of the hard stuff started. So I did NOT know ANYTHING about true labor! When I had asked my mom about her contractions, she told me that they were painful, but it was a sweet pain. That with every pain she knew she was one step closer to being a mommy. Awww. I don't know what planet she gave birth on thirty-eight years ago. There's nothing sweet about that pain. Those suckers HURT! And it's not like it is in the movies. I couldn't have screamed if I had wanted to - I had no breath! And I am thoroughly convinced that a MAN devised the Lamaze system. Yes, I did need to breathe during the contractions. I'm sure that oxygen would have helped. How anyone can breathe when their abdominal muscles are doing their best impression of a boa constrictor swallowing an elephant I will never know.

I'm sure that it is very disturbing to see the person you love most in the world writing in pain and knowing that you can't do anything to help. Hubby did try to help at one point by starting the chant, "Breathe. Breathe. Breathe with the contraction." I'm not sure exactly how I mustered the breath or the strength to talk at that point, but I know I looked at him and said, "You have to stop talking." My husband is wonderful. He did. Then a few contractions later Hubby very politely asked me to change my grip on his hand because the two-handed grip of the moment spelled a broken thumb in his near future. After every contraction I would apologize to everyone in the room for either being rude or for actually physically hurting them. Yes, I kept asking for the epidural and was promised that it would happen soon. The nurse actually said, "Sweetie, we need to make sure you're in active labor." A Linda Blair voice came out of my body. "I AM!" I finally got the epidural about 9:15 and it immediately started to work. Yay! It was a great epidural. I could feel no pain, but I could feel the pressure of the contractions so that really helped me a lot with the pushing later. (I found out later that during the time that the doctor was giving me the epidural I pulled my nurse's hair. I had a contraction and I thought I grabbed only her shirt. Turns out I grabbed a handful of hair, too. Again, I apologized.)

On a side note, they had this ridiculous pain chart that they referenced every time I said I hurt. It had little "happy" faces on it depicting varying degrees of pain from zero to ten. At ten the "smiley face" was crying. I told the nurse that my pain went to eleven. She didn't get it, but Hubby laughed.

For the next 45 minutes or so I dozed and just relaxed. Remember, I pushed with Princess for 2 1/2 hours so I was resting up for what could have been another marathon. At about 10:30 - during Leno's monologue - the doctor came in and checked me and I was at 10 cm! (Why he promptly left, I don't know. Although he only needs to be there to catch the baby. The nurse does all of the push coaching.) So at 10:33 I started pushing. I pushed through one contraction and then the nurse told me to wait. She said that she could see the head coming down and everything looked great. When I felt the next contraction coming I asked if she wanted me to push and she said no! So then Hubby, the nurse and I started taking bets for when we thought Buddy would make it into the world. I said I thought it would be 11:00. Hubby said 10:35. He didn't think that Leno would get through his monologue! The nurse wouldn't commit. I wound up only pushing through every third contraction. They sent for the doctor after the third push, he came in and one more push I had the head out then one small push and there was Buddy at 10:49! It was a much calmer and relaxed delivery than Princess! They lay Buddy right on my stomach, covered in goo and crying his head off! Then Hubby actually cut the cord. That was amazing! We were all joking and laughing and excited and no one was scared or stressed at all! He was 7 pounds 5 ounces at one month early. Wow. Praise to God that Buddy did not go full term!

Because he was so early, they had to do all of the preemie tests on him. (Each nurse that came to get him would look at him and say, "Are you sure you had the date right?" Yes. My husband had had several business trips that previous fall. He was home during just the right week!) Buddy sailed through all of the tests with flying colors. Yep, I just turn the oven up the last trimester!

My recovery was just as easy as the birth. I wasn't on crutches - I was walking around the room almost as soon as we moved to the mother/baby wing. I could actually sit down and not want to cry! A week later at home Princess and I were dancing together in the backyard!

I am just praising God for the way He took such good care of us! He said, "Trust Me" and what a blessing that I did! There were so many things that didn't go the way I wanted - a different hospital, my doctor wasn't on call so another doctor in the practice delivered us, Buddy was a whole MONTH early so we had a ton of stuff left to do - but I wouldn't change anything because it was all so perfect! God just knows exactly what we need and He is delighted to give it to us. Even if we put in an order for something different.

Oh, and here's the icing on the cake. As I was leaving the hospital on Wednesday I saw my anesthesiologist in the hallway. I told him that he was one of my favorite people and that his epidural was right on the money. I asked what his name was so that I could record it in Buddy's baby book. He told me and it turns out he and I worked together at a haunted house when we were both in high school! I went home and found a picture of us together - get this - 20 years ago! That picture is going in Buddy's book! Ha! Small world! Hubby said, "Well, looks like he's still coming after people with long sharp objects!"

Our Household Vernacular

Different parts of the country have different vernaculars. In the South, any kind of soda is called a "Coke" whereas in Detroit, where Hubby grew up, it's called "pop". We Southerners also say that we're "fixin' to do something" and Detroit people just do it. As a stay-at-home-mom in a community of stay-at-home-moms I find that each family has their own vernacular, fueled by the one (or two) in the household who don't quite have a grasp on language yet. Every parent knows which words to teach to the baby-sitter to avoid meltdowns. I myself know the frustration of asking for a Coke and being served one instead of being asked what kind of Coke I would like.

The vernacular of our household:
Princess is almost six so she's pretty much dropped her "special" words. But we used to have to interpret:
la-la = "water"
Ee-oh da-da = "Eeyore and blanket" (For a while she called her blanket "da-da". This was actually before there was a Dada calling his son "Blanket".)
ahng-gahng = "another" (There was much frustration before I figured this one out.)
Home Beto = Home Depot. (My parents still call it Home Beto.)
Scabettios = "Spaghettios" (She actually still uses this one. I can't correct her because it's just too cute.)

Buddy only has a few. He has a big sister to correct him:
poot = "shoe" (I have no idea. Thank goodness he's outgrown this one.)
sumping = "something" which actually means "yogurt" (Apparently the first time I gave him yogurt I asked, "Do you want something?" and then put the yogurt in front of him. I finally figured it out when he was banging on the refrigerator yelling, "Want sumping! Want sumping!" and I opened the refrigerator and he laughed, touched the yogurt container and very lovingly said, "Sumping!")
bigga one = "bigger one" = his lambskin that he carries around. (When we realized that he was attached to the huge lambskin that he sleeps on I cut two smaller pieces off so that we could bring it with us for emergency cuddling. There was tiny one, bigger one and huge one. He bonded with "bigga one".)

So when anyone is fixin' to come over to our house, we just tell them to grab their Scabettios and sumping and if they want to bring some Coke make sure it's Dr. Pepper. And take your poots off at the door.

Sit-Com Moment #2

Last year on the morning of Buddy's second birthday party Hubby went out to get a dozen helium-filled balloons for the table. Buddy was very excited about getting his balloons so we waited and watched for Hubby's return. Hubby drove up and Buddy and I came out on the front porch to welcome him (and the balloons) home. Hubby opened the pick-up door, pulled out the balloons and said, "Here are your ba-" and was interrupted by POW! POW! POW! POW! Hubby and I had both forgotten about the tree that hangs over the driveway. My poor husband looked at me and said, "Aw! I feel like I should be on 'Everybody Loves Raymond'!"

Luckily Hubby has quick reflexes and we only lost four balloons out of a dozen. No big loss. However, Buddy saw those balloons die and immediately began to wail. Again, Hubby has quick reflexes and brought over the remaining balloons to show Buddy that we still had plenty.

Disaster averted, funny story gained.

Time on my hands

What to do? What to do?
I am positively giddy. It looks as if I will have almost an entire week in June where I will be alone. Hubby is going on a work thing for a full week. I have worked it out so that my parents will have the kids during that time. I will be alone. Oh my goodness! I will only be responsible for my own food, my own bathroom habits, my own cleanliness. Wow. It's almost too much to take in. I'm almost afraid to post this entry for fear that I will jinx it!
My mind reels with the possibilities. Tackle some projects that are easier without four little hands helping? Take a couple of day trips ALONE? Rent some scary movies? Blog, blog, blog! My sister in law already has dibs on one night for a girl's night out. How fun! I never get to spend time with her ALONE.
I have about three weeks to plan. Oh, the possibilities!

The End of an Era

Buddy is now sleeping in a big boy bed. He's almost officially a big boy (he's still in pull-ups, the last hurdle to the big boy potty has not been crossed). I don't know how I feel about that.

Buddy has made the transition from crib to bed just fine. I'm the one having trouble! That crib has been assembled and in use in our house for almost six years. I can't get used to the fact that we're getting rid of all of our baby stuff. We're not going to have another baby. Ever. Wow. I'm not so sure that I like the finality of that.

It's been almost three years since I last gave birth. I know I have forgotten a lot, but I haven't forgotten everything. Babies are a lot of work with not much payoff for the first three or four months. (After that time, they start smiling. That rocks.) Things are constantly coming up - sleep issues, teething, weaning, trying solid foods, etc. It seems that once you get used to one schedule or one phase it's over and the next phase brings on an entirely new schedule! (Today is an example - Princess graduated from kindergarten. She's actually about to be in a GRADE!) But the maternal instinct is hard to suppress once it's activated. When you know that you are more responsible for this little thing than you've ever been in your life, when you know that if you did not do your job, this little being would not make it, when you realize that this little person bonded with you and knows that you will supply it with every need you can . . . that's so incredibly humbling and (dare I say it) addicting.

It's not power. At least, it's not for me. I don't feel power over my children. I feel a sense of responsibility and an overwhelming sense of humility. God has chosen me to shape these two little lives. It's actually beyond words so I don't know why I'm trying!

I fought Hubby when he wanted to take the crib down. I was not happy about it. Most of it was just the sleep issue thing with Buddy - we have had almost six months of really great nights and I didn't want to change ANYTHING for fear that it would rock the boat. But in the back of my mind, I just didn't want the symbol of babyhood to be gone. Getting rid of the crib is one step closer to Buddy and Princess not needing me like they do now. I go into Buddy's room and it's the room of a little boy - not a baby or even a toddler. I'm the mother of a 1st grader and a preschooler. Oh no . . . am I getting old? Is this about ME? (Isn't everything?!) ;-)

There are some phases that I'm glad are over - teething, 4 a.m. feedings, the stage where they can't walk really well, but want to do it without help . . . in a two story house - but there are some things I want to hang on to just a little while longer. I'm glad that I have Hubby to gently, but firmly, push me into letting go when I need to.

One of the most important things that my parents did for me and my brother was that they always treated us the age that we were. I don't ever remember being babied nor do I remember being asked to do things that were beyond me. I realize that I have to do that with my own children. I just didn't realize that it would be so hard!