Summer Fun -- or Not.

Well, I was going to take the kids to the laser show at Coney. Had everything set up except buying the ticket and finalizing what vehicle. Wasn't going to take my loud easy bake oven if I didn't have to.

The show was/is this weekend only. July 8 thru 11.  
Then the weather forecast changed.
From a pleasant (hot and humid ) summer weekend to a rainy stormy one.
Well, this event was being held outdoors. The webpage even said bring a tent if you were worried about rain. Said the rain would enhance the lasers, and I could see that. If it was a nice gentle rain.
Didn't think lightning would enhance very much. And the kids are iffy about storms, especially out of their home territory.
Plus my own problems with driving in darkness, in wetness, and in lightning.
So, I cancelled. Didn't buy the tickets, didn't finalize borrowing a car.
I said, when I told them, that it probably wouldn't storm if we didn't go, but it probably would of we went. I didn't want to take a chance with them along. The weather report for both Saturday and Sunday was late evening (about sundown) storms, possibly severe..
Yeah it didn't rain much (here) on Saturday night.
We must wait and see about Sunday night.
Anybody want to place a bet with me about rain then?

Winged Protection

My granddaughter, Hailey, age 5, draws me pictures of winged creatures that she then tapes up on the walls above and around my bed. She says they are fairies; I tend to think of them as angels. A rose by any other name...

She has also drawn me a picture of herself with her super powers, and she drew me a picture of her brother in the playpen. Both these pictures also went on the wall.
Under a rainbow.
And both these pictures had angel fairy pictures placed around them.

My bed and my grandbabies are very protected, it seems.
(Which is, of course, okay by me.)

This morning, when I woke up and reached for my glasses case, there was one of these pictures lying across the nightstand. It covered the glasses case, my phone, and my current book. There was no way for me to miss it.

And no reason for it to be there.

No obvious reason that is. The tape was still on the paper, the tape was still sticky.
But there was  a blue fairy angel smiling up at me and making sure I knew that it was there today.





I start my new job today with just a little extra boost of "good".

Welcome Armaggedon

I think it is time.
The world should end.
For all of us.

The only reason I can't end my own world is because I can't inflict that pain on Hailey. I can't even wish for my world to end, because I can't inflict that pain on Hailey.

But if the world itself came to an end, Hailey would be there, too.
No pain for her, whatever there might be in the next world.

If there is such a thing.

She could see her Mammaw Candy
She could run and laugh and play with her Pappaw. She could hold his hand and they could walk to the park together.
Something she has wished for.

And Warren, he could get to know his Pappaw. The man he brought smiles to, the man who had him laughing. The man he called first "a-a" and then "yaya" while now, months later, none of us have names yet.
The man who lit up when the boy was put in his arms.
The light of love and the light of happiness.
Laughter is oh so much that same light.


For myself, I want NOTHING.
Rest and peace and nothing.

I am broken.
I have been broken for a very long time.
I have been broken so long that I doubt I can be fixed.

Those that would fix me can't; those that could fix me (maybe) won't.

And it really doesn't matter.

But if the world were to end, the whole world, we could all be NOT sorry, NOT guilty, NOT alone;abandoned;hurting.


But, for now, the world goes on.
There will be yet another endless tomorrow.
And another.

Weekend

Pleasant surprise Friday evening when the babies were delivered to our door. We had been discussing it, and working at working it out, and then -- there they were!
On their way, Daddy had bought Hailey a pumpkin carving set and a kite, and these items were left at Mammaw's house.
So -- when Hailey got up Saturday morning, before she said "Good morning" or even "I'm awake, Mammaw!" she came to me and said, "We have to go get my pupmkin."
I fibbed. I told her the store wasn't open yet. The truth was, No one else in the house was awake yet, and I couldn't leave the baby to wake Rex up. (Tracy usually doesn't hear anyone on account of noise in her ears constantly, although she wasn't wearing her earbuds/headphones at the time.)

I didn't want to buy a pumpkin.
I sure as heck didn't want to carve a pumpkin. But the kit had stickers and that's what she said she wanted to do; put stickers on it.


Of course it didn't stop there.
When I told her she'd have to take the pumpkin home and let Daddy cut it, she went to Pappaw and he, silly man, told Tracy to do it, so it got done.
Badly, reluctantly, but done.

Then there was the kite. Numerous tantrums because she couldn't make it fly.
There was no wind.
No way it would fly and stay up, no matter how much she "runned and runned" with it.
Good job, Dad. Buy your kid a kite on a windless day and take her and it to ol' fat gramma's house. Good job.

Baby Boy was, for the most part, happy baby. He sat in his bouncer, his swing, and joy-of-joys, he would actually play on the floor instead of just flipping himself over and screaming. He's organizing getting himself to things and places and picking stuff up, so he's much happier.

We had the usual third-shift baby night Friday night, so I was groggy and short tempered most of Saturday (which started out with the pumpkin fiasco.)
Saturday, he was alert, talkative, communicated clearly -- a scream when someone leaves the room is pretty darned clear! -- went from person to person by his own choice. He surely does love his Pappaw who says "Tell me about it." to him and he at-ats and ya-yas away.
It was a nice day, and I took him outside on the quilt for going on a couple hours. He played and rolled and wiggled and squiggled himself all around. Finally getting up on all fours, although he's not quite figured out how to make everything move together. I had a heck of a time getting a picture, because the camera would go off and I had to turn it on and then frame the picture. BY then he'd be 'resting' again and I'd have to wait for the next time.

I do wonder if the outside time is why we had so many problems at bedtime, although he didn't show any symptoms. (Daddy has allergies, but Baby came with a cough and runny nose. Being outside seemed to ease that a bit.)
Saturday night we had a baby who wouldn't sleep, wouldn't settle. Wouldn't eat, wouldn't suck, didn't want held, didn't want put down. Finally decided he must be in pain and reluctantly gave him some baby ibuprofen, and he ended up sleeping through the night. Woke up around six for a diaper change and a refill, and back to snoozeland until almost ten. Two @4 hour sleeps in a row. I can rule the world today!

I had to take them home Sunday afternoon, and Hailey got up and started getting dressed and dressed up for the event. She's also making very sure that I plan to take Bubby home, too, and not just her.
She was  ready to go, and the situation was the same as yesterday -- she and I  the only ones awake.

She did get her kite "flied", and came in all sunshine and smiles.

Now, back to the sad, empty, and endless job of cleaning the house and the sadness of putting the toys away.
But not too "away." They WILL be back, and soon.

Hailey has already called and asked about "next time."
Warren yelled for "At-at Ya-ya"

Yeah, they'll be back. Soon.

Art will Out.

My husband used to say. when we'd go flea marketing, "I could do that if..."
He could be talking about wooden yard cutouts, or concrete statues, or handmade pottery, or plaster busts, or just about any handcraft.

His "if" was usually
"If I had the tools."
"If I had the equipment."
"If I had the space"

I was usually the penny pinching bully who wouldn't "let" him have the whatever he wanted for something he might do. Never mind that he probably never would do any of it.

I knew he wouldn't.

I made this judgement because he could have done many of the things using the tools at hand, but because they weren't specialty tools, he 'couldn't.'

Art doesn't work that way. If you have a need in your soul to create, you create. You don't wait for tools or stop for argument. If the need is in you and has to get out, you use what's at hand and do the best you can.

Period.

I know this, because I write. I write in all conditions, under any, many circumstances. I HAVE dived into trash cans for something to write on. I have used a mascara brush to jot down notes for a plot twist that just came to me as I was waiting in line. I have written with crayon, with full-fledged permanent marker, with broken pencils where I've chipped and peeled the wood away from the lead with my teeth and fingernails, because the words need to get OUT.

If I had no tools or equipment, I created some, I found some, I made some.

The same can be said for those who want to dance, or design, or act, cook, or do any other creative, expression.

There is no "if" in making art.

I'm reminded of this today watching my granddaughter.
She draws.
She paints.
She has taught herself to use the Paint program on the computer. She knows more of how to get it to do what she wants than I do.
If she finds an ink pen, a crayon, a marker, a burned stick, a charcoal briquet, she picks it up and draws a line or a circle with it.
If she has no paper to draw on, she uses a sidewalk, a rock, a board, a wall.

There is no "if" in this child when it comes to her art.

"If" she has no other legacy, I hope this is what she gets from Mammaw.

There is no "if" in "art."

Hailey and the Cricket

Hailey, age 4, has developed a bug phobia. When she sees one, she screams and runs and cries.

I am one mom/grandmom/aunt/sister who has no patience -- and I mean NO PATIENCE -- with that behavior. Unless it's a wasp. But that's one bug, one specific kind of bug, not any and all. Anyway, I have no patience with that. Time to nip it in the bud. (Or in the bug. just to be funny.)

This is somewhat natural for the age, I suppose. I never paid a lot of attention to it when my girls went through it, because of that no patience policy I may have mentioned. The sudden appearance of any critter is startling and evokes an "oh!" or an "Eek!"

I told Hailey's mom I'd like to slap silly whoever taught Hailey to act that way, but that it wouldn't be satisfying to do so, because said person has already attained that state. (Translation: She's silly to start with.)

Hailey sees two kinds of bugs. Flying bugs are flies. Crawling bugs are spiders.
Size or color doesn't matter. Except in the bathtub. Anything black in the bathtub is a cause for panic, has been for about three years. Instant hysteria, climb up the gramma, refuse to put a toe in the water, plain basic panic. (See, I do know the difference.)

Now, there are flies that get in her swimming pool. Spiders, too. She wouldn't get in the pool with flies and spiders, so I got her a net. The first few times I skimmed it for her. Then I showed her. She still refused to have anything to do with the skimming.
So, mean Mammaw took her and bodily stood her in the center of the pool, wrapped Hailey's little fingers around the net handle, and held on to Hailey's arm and made it swish swish, then showed her how to knock the stuff onto the ground.
After that, it was up to Hailey. If she wants to swim, she either has to swim with the bugs or skim them out herself. Meanie Mammaw would sit on the porch and let her holler, whine, scream,whimper. If she wants to swim, she knew what she had to do. It was up to her, old Meanie said.

The next morning she hopped in the pool, skimmed it and showed  the spiders to that old meanie.

This visit Hailey started screaming running through the house and even refusing to go potty because there are crickets hopping around in the almost remodeled bathroom. Someone had to go to the bathroom with her, to protect her from the spiders that jump on her.

So, on one trip to the bathroom, we started talking about the bugs. The jumping spiders that are called cricket and that jump in the wall and make noise.

"They make noise."
"They're singing to you."
"SingING?"
"Yes, they are in the wall singing to you."
Then we experimented with walking around in the bathroom, and how the cricket would stop singing whenever we moved too close to the wall, and then start singing when we'd be quiet and be still.

We headed out of the bathroom, and the cricket chirped twice. I said, "It sang 'good-bye for now.' "

Hailey stopped in her tracks and looked at me. "It was singing TO ME?"
I said yes.

Wonder dawned in her face. "Oh, Mammaw. You mean it's nice?"