Saturday, February 3, 2024
Me: Change In Time
Years have passed. Now there are three grandchildren...but only two children for one saw her way home to heaven. Time can be as sweet as honey and as bitter as chicory. It stops for no one and cannot be slowed or rushed.
I watch as others move quickly forward trying to push the boundries of time while I am locked in moments of times gone by...memories of childhood laughter, of sweet moments shared throughout time. I see time pass before my eyes until I reach this moment once again knowing I must continue to move forward through the pain of loss.
The hands of time continue to shift and change yet I cannot seem to catch up...I am not there yet...I am still moving forward while looking back. I see her as both a child and a mother; a daughter and a wife. The time will come when the pain will ease but that time is not yet...she has only just left...it takes time!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Mayhem- My Daughter's Proclomation
The teenage years can prove to be some of the most challenging and the most rewarding. Mayhem is simply a way of life as pre-teens enter your home. With hormones coursing through their veins, they are beginning to come into their own beings. The lessons and foundations that have been laid for them are hopefully in place…now they begin building their lives through decisions and consequences.
With two teenagers and one pre-teen in my house, to say my home was filled with mayhem would be an understatement. On the flip side of that, to balance out the mayhem was the knowledge that my children could discuss anything with me. There was one simple rule…”You may talk with me; You may not talk at me…leave the attitude at the door”
My daughter, being the oldest and only girl, and as boys and girls speak totally different languages…found this easy to follow until she was about 15 years old. Once she turned 15 and for the next year and a half, we were at each others throat day and night. If I said up, she said down. If I said red, she said blue. Finally, one day we sat down in the living room and I asked her, “What is going on with you!!!!” With eyes wide and a clenched jaw she replied, “I can’t wait to get out of here!”
I looked at her and burst out with laughter. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing!
“Good,” I said, “then I have done my job. I have raised you to be an independent young woman. You aren’t suppose to want to stay here with me forever. What you are feeling is perfectly normal.”
We sat there for about an hour and talked about how I felt when I was her age and she told me more of the way she had been feeling.
Things began to improve…oh there were still bumps! This was a young girl…my young girl…becoming a young woman…her own young woman. She had to maneuver through life’s up and downs to find her way.
Mayhem is nothing more than growing pains. Without it we would be stagnant in our own lives. It teaches us to be better than we were and prepares us for what we are yet to become.
With two teenagers and one pre-teen in my house, to say my home was filled with mayhem would be an understatement. On the flip side of that, to balance out the mayhem was the knowledge that my children could discuss anything with me. There was one simple rule…”You may talk with me; You may not talk at me…leave the attitude at the door”
My daughter, being the oldest and only girl, and as boys and girls speak totally different languages…found this easy to follow until she was about 15 years old. Once she turned 15 and for the next year and a half, we were at each others throat day and night. If I said up, she said down. If I said red, she said blue. Finally, one day we sat down in the living room and I asked her, “What is going on with you!!!!” With eyes wide and a clenched jaw she replied, “I can’t wait to get out of here!”
I looked at her and burst out with laughter. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing!
“Good,” I said, “then I have done my job. I have raised you to be an independent young woman. You aren’t suppose to want to stay here with me forever. What you are feeling is perfectly normal.”
We sat there for about an hour and talked about how I felt when I was her age and she told me more of the way she had been feeling.
Things began to improve…oh there were still bumps! This was a young girl…my young girl…becoming a young woman…her own young woman. She had to maneuver through life’s up and downs to find her way.
Mayhem is nothing more than growing pains. Without it we would be stagnant in our own lives. It teaches us to be better than we were and prepares us for what we are yet to become.
Motherhood- Potty Patrol
Potty training of boys and girls is a unique and sometimes entertaining experience. When you stop to think about it, this normal bodily function becomes something we are ooohing and awing over in order to get our children to “go potty” in the big girl or big boy potty. When they master this extraordinary event, we, as proud parents, clap and whoop and holler and give high fives and gold stars!
Why wouldn’t we?…it is the passage of another stage in our children’s small lives.
Of course, we are also giving ourselves silent pats on the back for figuring out ways to get our little angels to go when they sit, or hit the target when they aim. And of course, let us not forget that many little boys, once mastering the skill of “potty training” find a tree is just as good as a toilet for certain endeavors. The training here needs to be to stand on the back side of a tree so as not to moon the audience at your father’s adult soccer game!
All too often it is the parent who is ready to train the child before the child is ready to be trained. In the end, let’s face it…you can lead a child to the potty, but you cannot make them pee or poop. Relax moms! They will learn all in good time…sit back, have a Coke and prepare for the whooping and hollering to begin. Potty patrol is all on your child’s schedule!
Why wouldn’t we?…it is the passage of another stage in our children’s small lives.
Of course, we are also giving ourselves silent pats on the back for figuring out ways to get our little angels to go when they sit, or hit the target when they aim. And of course, let us not forget that many little boys, once mastering the skill of “potty training” find a tree is just as good as a toilet for certain endeavors. The training here needs to be to stand on the back side of a tree so as not to moon the audience at your father’s adult soccer game!
All too often it is the parent who is ready to train the child before the child is ready to be trained. In the end, let’s face it…you can lead a child to the potty, but you cannot make them pee or poop. Relax moms! They will learn all in good time…sit back, have a Coke and prepare for the whooping and hollering to begin. Potty patrol is all on your child’s schedule!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Me- Not Just Any Napkin
When my children were young, they loved to be read to. At times, we would find ourselves in places where I had simply forgotten to bring along a book. On one such occasion we found ourselves waiting for food to arrive in a very busy restaurant. In order to keep the children entertained, I took a napkin from the table and jotted a little “ditty” down, then began to tell the story to my children.
A year later, my daughter’s first grade glass used the story to study the term “illustrator”. Each child received a copy of the story and they illustrated how they envisioned the drawings might look. I still have some of those books today.
I hope as you read the story of “The Tickle Bee”, you find within yourself, the spot that holds the tickle dot….and smile!
The Tickle Bee
By: Kerri Dansby
High up in the gumshoe tree there lives a little tickle bee.
He likes to fly around at night above the city’s bright white lights.
He looks for people who are sad and sometimes finds they’re even mad.
He buzzes high above their heads and waits for them to go to bed.
When all is hushed and all is still, he lands outside the windowsill.
The tickle bee then sneaks right in and lands upon the person’s chin.
He walks around to find the place that holds the smile upon the face.
And when he finds that certain spot, he plants a little tickle dot.
As if by magic in the night, the tickle bee then takes to flight.
In the morning’s bright sun light, the tickle bee finds all is right.
Smiles are seen instead of frowns because the frowns are upside down.
I know this story to be true, the tickle bee made me smile too.
So if you’re feeling really down don’t despair he’ll be around.
Just find a little gumshoe tree and there you’ll find a tickle bee.
A year later, my daughter’s first grade glass used the story to study the term “illustrator”. Each child received a copy of the story and they illustrated how they envisioned the drawings might look. I still have some of those books today.
I hope as you read the story of “The Tickle Bee”, you find within yourself, the spot that holds the tickle dot….and smile!
The Tickle Bee
By: Kerri Dansby
High up in the gumshoe tree there lives a little tickle bee.
He likes to fly around at night above the city’s bright white lights.
He looks for people who are sad and sometimes finds they’re even mad.
He buzzes high above their heads and waits for them to go to bed.
When all is hushed and all is still, he lands outside the windowsill.
The tickle bee then sneaks right in and lands upon the person’s chin.
He walks around to find the place that holds the smile upon the face.
And when he finds that certain spot, he plants a little tickle dot.
As if by magic in the night, the tickle bee then takes to flight.
In the morning’s bright sun light, the tickle bee finds all is right.
Smiles are seen instead of frowns because the frowns are upside down.
I know this story to be true, the tickle bee made me smile too.
So if you’re feeling really down don’t despair he’ll be around.
Just find a little gumshoe tree and there you’ll find a tickle bee.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Mayhem- Frogs
Having a child equates to someday having a pet. More than one child? Pets…plural.
At any given moment our home was filled with fish, birds, dogs, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, or FROGS?
Yes, I said frogs. When the aquarium was not holding fish or hamsters or guinea pigs, my boys felt it was their personal responsibility to fill it with something.
In passing this “glass” house one day, I couldn’t help but notice it housed two new creatures…the boys simply giggled as they ran in to feed their new little pets. I watched in horror as they dropped crickets and grass into the enclosed area.
Several days later, while vacuuming the house, I noticed the aquarium sat empty. I made a mental note to ask the boys if they had put the frogs outside when suction of the hose changed from a steady sounding hum to a thwarp!
I quickly pulled the vacuum’s hose from beneath the sofa and shrieked when I saw the splayed remains of a dried out frog suctioned to the end of the vacuum.
In questioning the boys, the story was told they were playing “leap frog” with their pets when they got away! THEY?
The other frog never was recovered…
At any given moment our home was filled with fish, birds, dogs, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, or FROGS?
Yes, I said frogs. When the aquarium was not holding fish or hamsters or guinea pigs, my boys felt it was their personal responsibility to fill it with something.
In passing this “glass” house one day, I couldn’t help but notice it housed two new creatures…the boys simply giggled as they ran in to feed their new little pets. I watched in horror as they dropped crickets and grass into the enclosed area.
Several days later, while vacuuming the house, I noticed the aquarium sat empty. I made a mental note to ask the boys if they had put the frogs outside when suction of the hose changed from a steady sounding hum to a thwarp!
I quickly pulled the vacuum’s hose from beneath the sofa and shrieked when I saw the splayed remains of a dried out frog suctioned to the end of the vacuum.
In questioning the boys, the story was told they were playing “leap frog” with their pets when they got away! THEY?
The other frog never was recovered…
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Motherhood-A Day At the Beach
Little did I know just how much “going to the beach” would change once I became a mother.
Let me break it into the before and after Motherhood scenario.
Before: I would go to the beach with a chair, a towel, a small cooler, and a tote with my day’s supplies.
After: I would go to the beach with a chair, four towels, a cooler on wheels, a large tote with our day’s supplies, a tote with the dry food, a tote with the sand toys, and of course the various floating apparatuses.
It wasn’t only what I took to the beach that becoming a mother changed. Oh no, it was the way I experienced the beach that changed!
Before: I would set up the chair, lay out the towel, put on the sunscreen and settle in to soak in the sun’s rays. I would enjoy reading a good book, or closing my eyes and listening to the sound of the waves as they crashed upon the shore. I would smell the salty air as the sea gulls cried their sing song language and the sound of children, (other people’s children), wafted softly in the distance.
After: I would set up the chair, try to keep the other towels from getting sand on them as they would be needed later to dry off with, re-applied sunscreen to faces (we had already spent 30 minutes at home putting sunscreen on wiggling little bodies), reviewed the boundary lines determined by my chair and some other colorful beach umbrella a few feet down the beach, dispersed the sand toys or floating devices and watched as the children scattered within the “safe zone”.
There was no reading, no closing of the eyes. I was on guard, on watch.
Though I did not read a book, I watched my children laugh, and build castles in the sand. If I heard the sea gulls cry, it was in the background to my children’s voices as they called out, “Momma, look at me,” as they rode the cresting waves. And once we were all back in the car safe and sound, with sandy little bodies tired and spent. I would close my eyes; smell the salty air and say, “thank you Lord for the blessing of this day.”
Let me break it into the before and after Motherhood scenario.
Before: I would go to the beach with a chair, a towel, a small cooler, and a tote with my day’s supplies.
After: I would go to the beach with a chair, four towels, a cooler on wheels, a large tote with our day’s supplies, a tote with the dry food, a tote with the sand toys, and of course the various floating apparatuses.
It wasn’t only what I took to the beach that becoming a mother changed. Oh no, it was the way I experienced the beach that changed!
Before: I would set up the chair, lay out the towel, put on the sunscreen and settle in to soak in the sun’s rays. I would enjoy reading a good book, or closing my eyes and listening to the sound of the waves as they crashed upon the shore. I would smell the salty air as the sea gulls cried their sing song language and the sound of children, (other people’s children), wafted softly in the distance.
After: I would set up the chair, try to keep the other towels from getting sand on them as they would be needed later to dry off with, re-applied sunscreen to faces (we had already spent 30 minutes at home putting sunscreen on wiggling little bodies), reviewed the boundary lines determined by my chair and some other colorful beach umbrella a few feet down the beach, dispersed the sand toys or floating devices and watched as the children scattered within the “safe zone”.
There was no reading, no closing of the eyes. I was on guard, on watch.
Though I did not read a book, I watched my children laugh, and build castles in the sand. If I heard the sea gulls cry, it was in the background to my children’s voices as they called out, “Momma, look at me,” as they rode the cresting waves. And once we were all back in the car safe and sound, with sandy little bodies tired and spent. I would close my eyes; smell the salty air and say, “thank you Lord for the blessing of this day.”
Friday, February 18, 2011
Me- Life's Stage
If “all the world’s a stage and all the men and women, merely players” as Shakespeare so aptly quotes, then what part have I played, do I play, will I play?
Ahhhh, that is not a difficult answer, for my life has felt as though it has played out on stage. Even as a child, there were the living room plays where I would direct my siblings on what to say as I stood atop the organ bench and sang my heart out to my parents as they watched the performance. There were the various dance routines year in and year out as costume after costume was purchased so that I might twirl across the stage in my ballerina tutu or tap my way into the chorus line.
There were the neighborhood shows where I and several other children would practice songs and dance routines for hours then sell tickets to “the Big Show” to raise money for a charitable organization.
As the years passed life’s stage began to transform. It took the shape of faces, and places. It carried me to foreign lands. It taught me that although I had struggles in my life, they could not compare with the plight of those in other parts of the world.
Life’s stage and the challenges that were and are scattered along the way have reminded me that my part may not always be glamorous, may not always be dressed in pretty little costumes, set to twirl through each day effortlessly. But with grace I can walk through my part, deliver my lines, and await the sunrise of each new tomorrow.
Ahhhh, that is not a difficult answer, for my life has felt as though it has played out on stage. Even as a child, there were the living room plays where I would direct my siblings on what to say as I stood atop the organ bench and sang my heart out to my parents as they watched the performance. There were the various dance routines year in and year out as costume after costume was purchased so that I might twirl across the stage in my ballerina tutu or tap my way into the chorus line.
There were the neighborhood shows where I and several other children would practice songs and dance routines for hours then sell tickets to “the Big Show” to raise money for a charitable organization.
As the years passed life’s stage began to transform. It took the shape of faces, and places. It carried me to foreign lands. It taught me that although I had struggles in my life, they could not compare with the plight of those in other parts of the world.
Life’s stage and the challenges that were and are scattered along the way have reminded me that my part may not always be glamorous, may not always be dressed in pretty little costumes, set to twirl through each day effortlessly. But with grace I can walk through my part, deliver my lines, and await the sunrise of each new tomorrow.
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