Have you ever tied a six passenger boat to a girder under a bridge at night? Well, I haven’t actually done the knot-tying, but I apparently was in the way while my father tried to tie one!
When I was younger, we used to go to Clarks Hill (now apparently they call it Strom Thurmond Lake).
It was a delightful family vacation spot. It offered fishing, picnicking, boating, camping, and other outdoor activities. It was not uncommon for us to take the boat and our pop-up camper to the lake for a week-end get away.
On this particular evening, my dad decided it would be fun to do some night fishing. We headed out of our quiet little cove into the massive lake. Heading towards the long bridge connecting South Carolina to Georgia, my father maneuvered the boat into position. Taking one rope, tying it to the front of the boat and then lassoing the girder, he secured our position. He then attempted to do the same with the back.
During this process, anyone sitting in a seat near the “casting-off” position was asked to move. I moved from the left rear to the right rear. When he missed the rear girder for the third time, his frustration grew, so he told me to get to the front! Time and again he tried. Finally, the connection was made and the boat sat cradled between two taught lines.
I returned to my seat when he pulled out yet another cord! To this, he tied a light. Like a wild cowboy, he swung the loose end over his head and upward toward the ledge. Splat!
It hit the water with a dull thud. Again he tried. The wind began to blow softly swaying the boat like a baby’s cradle. His frustration shown with each additional missed toss. I, along with all other members in the fishing-party, were told to move.
In my teen-age wisdom, I asked “Should we just jump off the boat?”
Swoosh, clink, he did it!
Hmmmm…was it my wit or his wisdom of not responding immediately to my mouth that caused the rope to catch? I may never know, but I learned a lesson that night.
Teenagers are developing wisdom; parents are practicing it!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Motherhood-Wiggles to Giggles
How many times have we seen on television one end of a string tied to a door knob and the other end of the string tied to a loose tooth that was ready to be pulled? Or how about that dentist that was ready to take the pliers to the patient who sat pasty white in the chair sweating bullets at the prospect of what was about to transpire?
With every comedic presentation of the infamous removal of a loose tooth, there was a little child smiling with that snaggled-tooth grin and holding what they knew was “cash in hand”.
Yes, every child knows about the Tooth Fairy. And what I have found over time is the Tooth Fairy is very excited and in tune with the first tooth lost by each child.
However as the years pass……
The number of teeth lost multiplied by the number of children who lose them; well let’s just say there were mornings where those final baby teeth would still be under the pillow. Somehow, the tooth fairy got behind in her pickup and delivery system and would sometimes not arrive until the children were eating breakfast.
So what, you may ask, do motherhood, television tooth pulling comedy, and the tooth fairy have in common? The answer is: TIMING
Timing is everything when it comes to keeping what was once a tiny white wiggle a precious little giggle. Let's face it: Loosing teeth in our prime doesn't have the same effect!
With every comedic presentation of the infamous removal of a loose tooth, there was a little child smiling with that snaggled-tooth grin and holding what they knew was “cash in hand”.
Yes, every child knows about the Tooth Fairy. And what I have found over time is the Tooth Fairy is very excited and in tune with the first tooth lost by each child.
However as the years pass……
The number of teeth lost multiplied by the number of children who lose them; well let’s just say there were mornings where those final baby teeth would still be under the pillow. Somehow, the tooth fairy got behind in her pickup and delivery system and would sometimes not arrive until the children were eating breakfast.
So what, you may ask, do motherhood, television tooth pulling comedy, and the tooth fairy have in common? The answer is: TIMING
Timing is everything when it comes to keeping what was once a tiny white wiggle a precious little giggle. Let's face it: Loosing teeth in our prime doesn't have the same effect!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Me- Time to Tan
The desire for that sun-kissed glow is ingrained in most women. Today, there are tanning beds in every city, large or small. Whether you choose to lie there in your bathing suit or birthday suit, you are ensured of receiving a golden glow within several visits.
That “glow” came in the form of various concoctions during my teen years. There were sunlamps of course, but they required you to toast your body in sections little by little. It was like watching toast burn in the privacy of your own home. Toast here, flip over, and burn a little more.
If you selected to lie in the sun, a radio announcer was sure to come on and say “time to turn so you won’t burn!”
The secret to outdoor tanning was experimentation. Some tried the drugstore creams and tanning lotions, while many of us chose to create our own concoctions. The number one homemade “burning” rubdown was a combination of baby oil and a drop or two of mercurochrome. It drew the sun to our skin like a moth to a flame. Of course our bodies felt like they were on fire shortly thereafter and our hands turned a bright reddish orange. (Q-T: Quick Tan had nothing on us)
Yes, that beautiful summertime glow…the one that gives us a lifelong kiss!
We all long for it in our youth, and pay for it in our prime.
Today, I don’t have to tan. I have a year round supply of color in the form of freckles. At any time, I can connect the freckles on my back and laugh at the variety of pictures that I can create by playing dot to dot...my favorite... the smiley face that smiles back at me!
Ahhhh yes, all because I tanned!
That “glow” came in the form of various concoctions during my teen years. There were sunlamps of course, but they required you to toast your body in sections little by little. It was like watching toast burn in the privacy of your own home. Toast here, flip over, and burn a little more.
If you selected to lie in the sun, a radio announcer was sure to come on and say “time to turn so you won’t burn!”
The secret to outdoor tanning was experimentation. Some tried the drugstore creams and tanning lotions, while many of us chose to create our own concoctions. The number one homemade “burning” rubdown was a combination of baby oil and a drop or two of mercurochrome. It drew the sun to our skin like a moth to a flame. Of course our bodies felt like they were on fire shortly thereafter and our hands turned a bright reddish orange. (Q-T: Quick Tan had nothing on us)
Yes, that beautiful summertime glow…the one that gives us a lifelong kiss!
We all long for it in our youth, and pay for it in our prime.
Today, I don’t have to tan. I have a year round supply of color in the form of freckles. At any time, I can connect the freckles on my back and laugh at the variety of pictures that I can create by playing dot to dot...my favorite... the smiley face that smiles back at me!
Ahhhh yes, all because I tanned!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Mayhem-If It Quacks Like A Duck
It was a sunny morning in Wilmington, North Carolina. (There is a reason they call the skies, Carolina blue!) On this particular Saturday morning in July the temperature had soared to 85 degrees and it was only 9:30 a.m.
The children’s “kiddie” pool needed to be filled with clean water. What was currently in it from the previous day’s play session, looked more like the sea weed lagoon from some hidden cove in the North Pacific. I went outside to empty the green grassy grunge when a slithering sneaky snake caught my attention. I screamed a blood-curdling scream that could have raised the hackles on any dog in the next five counties!
I ran inside to get my husband. He told me to get the hoe and kill it. “Get the hoe and kill it?” “Are you crazy? It’s a S-N-A-K-E….not a snail!”
Our next door neighbor had heard my tormented cry of anguish and came to see about the problem. When I described the creature to him he said it sounded like a legless lizard; not a snake.
Hold the phone…a what? A legless lizard?
He explained they were also known by the name of “glass snakes” but they were really part of the lizard family.
We checked around the pool area and to my relief this lizard with no legs had “walked” off.
As my children played that day in their little wading pool, I kept a watchful eye for this reptile with no legs. In my book, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck; or in this case, a snake with an apparent leg disability.
The children’s “kiddie” pool needed to be filled with clean water. What was currently in it from the previous day’s play session, looked more like the sea weed lagoon from some hidden cove in the North Pacific. I went outside to empty the green grassy grunge when a slithering sneaky snake caught my attention. I screamed a blood-curdling scream that could have raised the hackles on any dog in the next five counties!
I ran inside to get my husband. He told me to get the hoe and kill it. “Get the hoe and kill it?” “Are you crazy? It’s a S-N-A-K-E….not a snail!”
Our next door neighbor had heard my tormented cry of anguish and came to see about the problem. When I described the creature to him he said it sounded like a legless lizard; not a snake.
Hold the phone…a what? A legless lizard?
He explained they were also known by the name of “glass snakes” but they were really part of the lizard family.
We checked around the pool area and to my relief this lizard with no legs had “walked” off.
As my children played that day in their little wading pool, I kept a watchful eye for this reptile with no legs. In my book, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck; or in this case, a snake with an apparent leg disability.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Motherhood-Two Bad Words
After having sung the boys their bedtime song and kissed them goodnight, I headed down the hall toward my daughter's room. As I entered I could hear the soft sound of her muffled cry.
That is when my 10 year old daughter told me that she had said "two bad words" that day. I smiled at this petite little broken angel and asked what she had said.
"Bitch...."
"Well, do you know what that means?" I asked trying to keep a straight face.
"No," she replied.
I explained that it was a female dog and people used that word in an ugly way. I asked her what else she said. In a meek little voice she looked at me and innocently said, "f@&k".
"Oh!" Well, that is an ugly term for something very beautiful between a married man and his wife I answered...totally shocked and taken aback by the look on her face."
"It is probably better that we don't use those words."
Then it happened...."but I am proud of you" Her eyes glistened as they filled with tears. "I am proud of you because you knew in your heart that you had done something that wasn't right and you told me the truth. Your spirit was speaking to you"
I think we both learned something that night.
Children grow and the challenges they face become grander then saying "bad" words. As a mother, our tests are learning when to listen so we can hear the pain behind the challenges our children are facing and help them learn the lessons of their trials. We cannot always protect them from the hurts, but we can help guide them if our words do not add to the pain.
That is when my 10 year old daughter told me that she had said "two bad words" that day. I smiled at this petite little broken angel and asked what she had said.
"Bitch...."
"Well, do you know what that means?" I asked trying to keep a straight face.
"No," she replied.
I explained that it was a female dog and people used that word in an ugly way. I asked her what else she said. In a meek little voice she looked at me and innocently said, "f@&k".
"Oh!" Well, that is an ugly term for something very beautiful between a married man and his wife I answered...totally shocked and taken aback by the look on her face."
"It is probably better that we don't use those words."
Then it happened...."but I am proud of you" Her eyes glistened as they filled with tears. "I am proud of you because you knew in your heart that you had done something that wasn't right and you told me the truth. Your spirit was speaking to you"
I think we both learned something that night.
Children grow and the challenges they face become grander then saying "bad" words. As a mother, our tests are learning when to listen so we can hear the pain behind the challenges our children are facing and help them learn the lessons of their trials. We cannot always protect them from the hurts, but we can help guide them if our words do not add to the pain.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Me- Dancing In the Azaleas
I am product of a different time. A time when there were no video games to hold our interests…our own imagination had to capture us and transport us to places unknown.
I am a product of a time when kids came home from school, completed their homework, participated in sports, took dance, OR played with the neighborhood kids…WHAT? Yes, we played! There was no pre-planned scheduled, rule following, adult planned activities.
Azalea bushes became hideouts for the cowboys and Indians. The following day, those same azaleas were a dream- land where pixies danced and played.
Elvis Presley would play on the stereo while we, the neighborhood gaggle of kids, would line up in the living room to dance to Viva Las Vegas. We were the definition of line dancing.
My life today is a direct result of the days spent dancing and playing in the azaleas. It is forever linked to the lines formed in the living room as Elvis sang and we played. It is forged in clarity because it was developed in creativity.
I am a product of a time when kids came home from school, completed their homework, participated in sports, took dance, OR played with the neighborhood kids…WHAT? Yes, we played! There was no pre-planned scheduled, rule following, adult planned activities.
Azalea bushes became hideouts for the cowboys and Indians. The following day, those same azaleas were a dream- land where pixies danced and played.
Elvis Presley would play on the stereo while we, the neighborhood gaggle of kids, would line up in the living room to dance to Viva Las Vegas. We were the definition of line dancing.
My life today is a direct result of the days spent dancing and playing in the azaleas. It is forever linked to the lines formed in the living room as Elvis sang and we played. It is forged in clarity because it was developed in creativity.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Mayhem-Smile When You Can See The Carpet
When my children were small, we used to sing a song to the tune of “High Ho, High Ho it’s off to work we go.” WE would sing, “Pick up our toys and put them all away. It’s time for them to go to sleep and play another day!” As my children got older they would sing the song and pick up the toys themselves.
Time passed, the song disappeared, the toys changed to clothes, electronics, make-up, shoes, musical instruments…and things didn’t seem to get “picked up” anymore.
Before long, there was a distinction in how picked-up a room was. There was “kid” clean and “mama” clean. Kid clean meant there was at least a walk way from the door to the closet and the bed had enough space for one person to curl up and find a nesting position. This was the kind of clean that required me to keep the doors closed in order to maintain my sanity.
Once a month, the children were required to mama-clean their rooms. Of course this always came with rolled eyes and groans and moans. The translation for mama-clean meant throwing away trash, picking up clothes, vacuuming, and putting all miscellaneous items in some type of order. For that one day, I was able to walk down the hall and enjoy the sunshine as it poured in through the windows and into my home.
To weary moms everywhere…let me offer these simple words…don’t look under the beds or open the closest doors. Enjoy the illusion that mama clean DOES exist. Allow yourself the momentary glance at your children’s floors and remember the saying “out of site, out of mind” or “pick your battles”. The truth of the matter is…it’s just stuff. The day will come when their stuff will be gone and your house will be as clean as you like. The day will come when they will keep their house the way they want and they too, will close their children’s doors and have mama-clean days. The truth is…teach them to respect your space…you in turn respect theirs…and if they try and give you that one clean day a month, smile when you can see the carpet.
Time passed, the song disappeared, the toys changed to clothes, electronics, make-up, shoes, musical instruments…and things didn’t seem to get “picked up” anymore.
Before long, there was a distinction in how picked-up a room was. There was “kid” clean and “mama” clean. Kid clean meant there was at least a walk way from the door to the closet and the bed had enough space for one person to curl up and find a nesting position. This was the kind of clean that required me to keep the doors closed in order to maintain my sanity.
Once a month, the children were required to mama-clean their rooms. Of course this always came with rolled eyes and groans and moans. The translation for mama-clean meant throwing away trash, picking up clothes, vacuuming, and putting all miscellaneous items in some type of order. For that one day, I was able to walk down the hall and enjoy the sunshine as it poured in through the windows and into my home.
To weary moms everywhere…let me offer these simple words…don’t look under the beds or open the closest doors. Enjoy the illusion that mama clean DOES exist. Allow yourself the momentary glance at your children’s floors and remember the saying “out of site, out of mind” or “pick your battles”. The truth of the matter is…it’s just stuff. The day will come when their stuff will be gone and your house will be as clean as you like. The day will come when they will keep their house the way they want and they too, will close their children’s doors and have mama-clean days. The truth is…teach them to respect your space…you in turn respect theirs…and if they try and give you that one clean day a month, smile when you can see the carpet.
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