Happiness is retired with Grandchildren

Children are wonderful.  But grandchildren are parent's reward for not smothering their children in their sleep.  I have been blessed with four wonderful grandchildren.

My oldest daughter has a girl.  The most beautiful girl you have ever seen.  She has long silky straight hair that is the envy of every female.  But typically she gallops for the hills when her mother wants to comb it.  My daughter is a hairstylist and once got so fed up with her daughter,  she snipped off all that beautiful hair!  Today, for a nine year old, she smoothes it down herself pretty well.   And she eats like a monkey in a palm tree of bananas and sometimes asks for seconds.  I have never seen anyone eat like her and stay so slim and trim.

My youngest daughter has a girl and a boy.  The girl is the oldest at three.  She is loving and obedient.  She is striking with her short hair and different colored eyes.  Once you have a loving girl like that you long for another.  Then she had the boy.  He is not one yet, but too curious for his own good!  The plants on the ground are not safe.  As a male he is  already digging in the dirt and spreading it around the house.

My son has a baby girl that I am raising as my own.  He named her after his favorite city in Australia, and she doesn't seem to  mind the unusual name.  She amuses herself during the day and cuddles with me at night.  If  I could get her to leave my cat alone!  She thinks his tail is her personal play toy.  My cat wallops her in the face  multiple times a day.

I may be biased.  My grandchildren are beautiful, smart, and listen like none other!

My wish to you is for you to have grandchildren just like mine!

Wind Blown Baby

"Come quick and bring your camera!"  Doug phoned an acre away from his machine shed.

Huffing and puffing, camera in tow, I sprinted out.  He showed me three fluffy baby black birds hopping around the evergreen trees behind the shed chirping a mile a minute.  The howling winds must have taken away their home.  Where was their mother?

Doug said he had searched  in all the trees and the ground and couldn't find a nest.  Now what?"  Oh yeah, that great invention-google.  I huffed and puffed back to the house and up the stairs to figure out how to be a bird mother.

Sixteen minutes later I was armed with string and an empty plastic butter bowl.  I scoured the yard for leaves and dead grass.  Doug punched holes in the sides of the bowl, tied the strings in the holes and secured them to a high branch and wa-la, we had a human bird nest!  Now to catch the birds.

One had hopped its' way over the barbed wire fence into the next field.  Doug took the bird father's role and scolded the baby for hopping away.  Baby didn't take kindly to the scolding and kept hopping out of Doug's reach as he tried to nab him.  Eight minutes later with tears rolling down my face and me rolling in the dirt laughing at my 6 foot husband trying in vain to catch a three inch bird, he captured the baby fugitive.

Reverently he put the baby in our human nest.  Google said the mother would come back to find the baby.  We stood back arm in arm waiting for the mother's return.  We patted ourselves on the back for being good humans and saving the baby.

Then the damn thing flew away!

I found a birds' egg on the ground.  It must have been blown out of a nest by the wind.  Gently I picked it up and put it in my human nest.

I will go out after supper and sit on it until it hatches...

Men!

Men!

            Mid-Life crisis men these days!  They see Barbie women on the big screen and think we should all be like that.

            Actually the typical female could and do look just like that.  We just choose not to squeeze ourselves into a breathing prohibitor body spanx.  We choose not to starve ourselves for four and half days before getting our picture taken.  We choose not to sit in the sauna for hours on end to loose six pounds of water to fit into the tiny black dress.

 We every day women actually like our curves.  It defines who we are.  Our hips represent the wonderful children we have brought into this world.  Our chest (even if they may  touch our knees) also are memories of our children.  The ever expanding thighs are evidence of our ability to sit and listen to our significant other's

day and troubles and triumphs in life. We have joy lines and worry creases that represent the sensitivity we have for our family and friends.  

            Men over 50 are no Orlando Bloom.  Have they taken off their rose colored glasses and looked at themselves in the mirror?  There's hair on their back that would grow radishes!  Nose hair protrudes at all angels out of their honkers.  And the ears!  Oh how it used to be fun to kiss those ears.  But the midlife man has this disgusting fuzz curling around the inside.  Have you noticed how large and droopy those once small and firm ears have become?! 

           Do these "I can't see reality" men realize everything we have given up for them?  Suppose I wanted a pet raccoon.  One that I could cuddle with and would sleep with me.  But my man was allergic.  So I had to settle for a pet opossum instead.  While the opossum was a fine pet, he didn't cuddle and was not as loving as a raccoon.  But anything for the happiness and health of the man.

            We women seem to follow our men's dreams forsaking our own.  We move.  We leave our families and our jobs.  We go to their yawn invoking office parties. We have drinks and dinner with less than interesting females because the man thinks her husband is his new best friend.

          So mid-life crisis men get over yourselves.  We women are what we are-smart, funny, the real deal.  Buy a convertible or a Harley.  Take us for a ride with the wind in our hair.  (If the man has any on his head!)  Let's redefine ourselves together in this wonderful time of-The Children Have All Grown Up and Moved Out!

P.S.  I just want to add this text is totally irrelevant to my loving husband.  After all he did just buy me a wonderful claw foot bathtub.  So between him and the contractor that is installing it, makes them the most adored men ever!

Movin' In

                                                              

            "We can't drive in that!"

            The moving truck was scheduled to come.  The night before it snowed a mere two to three inches.  Doug and I both grew up in the south.  I reiterated, "We can not drive in that!"

            With other ideas Doug loaded the truck with our suitcases, paranoid cat, and me.  For the record, he refused to carry me to the truck.  So I pelted him with snow balls.  That'll teach him.

            Eight miles later with my fingernail marks embedded in his skin, Doug pulled safely into our snow covered driveway.  I guess a good ole southern boy can learn new tricks.

            I was presented with two options.  Did I want to drive and go meet the moving truck or shovel the driveway?  Of course, shovel the driveway.  I'm never driving in that white fluff.

            Shoveling wasn't so bad until I realized our driveway was 2.7 miles long.  But I needn't have worried.  Doug and the moving truck arrived in thirty-three minutes and the moving truck promptly slid off the road towards the ditch. 

             Low and behold a smaller moving truck appeared behind the stuck big one.  I guess they are used to this kind of weather and prepare for slides and getting stuck.  Wouldn't you think they would just say "Screw It,"  and stay home with a hot toddy waiting for better weather.  That's what I plan to do!

            Then the news came that filled my heart with joy.  We provided entertainment for our new neighbors.  One such neighbor stopped at the truck saying everyone was saying "Go look at the new neighbors.  Their moving truck is in the ditch!"  Ahh to be the center of attention.
            After losing all feeling in my toes from standing outside checking off inventory numbers, the tow truck arrived and pulled the truck from the ditch.  It was time to go inside, unpack, find a blanket, and crawl under.  The scardy cat had the same idea.

The journey has ended and the living begins on the gravel road.

The Beginning of the New Chapter

            Just the facts.  I married my husband and the Navy 24 years ago.  In those 24 years I have moved 12 times, covering 19,698 miles, been a single mother to three children for 132 months, and changed 13,104 diapers.  In 23 years my husband, Doug, has been home for 8 moves, but never moved with three kids, two cats, a rabbit, a guinea pig, and a frog in one mini van.  He has been a single father for 6.75 days and changed .5 dirty diapers.  I'm convinced he perfected the gag in front of the mirror first.

            Now the light at the end of the tunnel is blinding.  Retirement from the Navy is here.  Doug can come home every night from an organized, calm job.  We can buy a house  close to our children and have family dinners every Sunday.  I can become Donna Reid. 

            Just the facts-I knew the light was blinding.  I didn't realize it had blinded me.  The calm job is in a war country.  The home every night is home every six weeks.  The house close to our children is 1,682 miles away.  The new chapter begins on a gravel road...

            I must confess I am backing up a couple months.  I sped away from San Diego in January with the Navy in my rearview mirror.  However; not much had changed.  It was just me and the giant scaredy cat driving across country.  Our first destination was Corpus Christi, Texas. 

           

            We blew by El Centro with the Blue Angels soaring and dipping over head.  We coasted by giant cacti in Arizona and smelled too many dairy cows in New Mexico.  We passed helicopters in Texas being towed by a truck advertising giraffe sales.  Really!

            Twenty six hours later we made it to my parents house.  Time to rest and recoup.  However my father had other ideas-chores.  I thought chores after fifty was outlawed.  But there I was climbing up the grapefruit tree to get the last few at the top.

            When the grueling day of chores was finished.  My sister (who had not helped with chores) and I felt the need to relax.  We jumped in her still smelling new SUV and drove to the Party Barn.  We pulled in the red barn structure.  A friendly gentleman sauntered up to the window and we ordered our liquid refreshment.  It arrived in seconds hidden in the nondescript paper bag.   Off we raced to relax!

          Thus ending my time in Corpus Christi.  The journey to the gravel road continues.