Where Do You Come From

One day last week my mom's cousin found me on facebook wanting to know if I was the Katie related to my mom.  To turn a long story short, she's been working on the family's genealogy and had some questions for my mom about a few things.  Well, this peaked my curiosity and I had to know what she'd found already.  So I signed up for ancestry's free two week membership (which I have to cancel in the next 7 days or I get charged a boatload of money) and started looking around.

It was actually really easy- you start a family tree by entering what you know and then they send you hints about who might be related to the people you entered.  I already had a fair amount of information due to a family tree I'd done in the 4th grade and for most my of family I knew all of the Greats and some of the Great-Greats. The cousin who contacted my mom is from my Mema's side of the family and she had traced things back to the early 1800's.  I thought that was pretty impressive. But as it would turn out, many people had already done the entire genealogy of my name sake Great-Grandmother- Katie, which was my Papa's mother. The majority of the family on his could be traced back to the 1700's, but the line through Katie's family was a completely different story- it goes back to the 1200's in England!

And it's not just any old line- it's a fairly aristocratic one.  Katie's 5th great-grandfather was also Martha Washington's father.  Her 6th Great-Grandmother was the daughter of Virginia's Governor Spotswood. They were all important members of the Williamsburg elite back in the Revolutionary and Pre-Revolutionary days.  Before those days, her family in England were all lords and ladies.  So, how then did my Great-Grandmother Katie end up a poor farmer's wife in the mountains of Southwest Virginia with 11 kids?

I have all these names and no stories and I want to know how it all happened.  Her family from 100 years before were all educated, landed, upper class members of society with money.  What transpired in those later years that altered everything?  I'm glad that everything worked the way it did, or else I wouldn't be here, but it still makes me sad for the original Katie.  She had a hard life- giving birth to my Papa at the age of 42, the baby of her 11 children, in a one bedroom house. 

It's weird to see this extremely long line of people that are the reason I am who I am and know nothing about them.  I need more details, more stories, more information, more everything.  It's not enough for me to know where I come from- I also need to know the why.

Christmas on Wendhurst

We went to see some Christmas lights last night with Spencer's Mimi and Great-Gram (The PGP and the PGGP).  Spencer and I go out every night and look at different houses with lights on the Tacky Tour, but we'd been saving a few for when the PGPs came up for a visit.  I had just seen a special on TLC about a certain house in Richmond and I HAD to go and see it- so off we went.  And let me tell you... it did NOT disappoint. My pictures don't do it justice because I couldn't get everything in one panoramic shot, so it's all a little disjointed.  But every single one of the pictures that follows comes from the same house. Yep, just one house and over 120,000 lights.  They even have there own website, check it out to see it in it's full glory.

I know houses on the Tacky Tour are supposed to be "tacky," but I think this one is beautiful!

The Middle of Nowhere

We are in The Middle of Nowhere, North Carolina visiting Spencer's PGGPs.  (The parental great-grandparents)  Life is slower here, but for some reason, I've been non-stop on the go since we arrived.  Maybe it's all the fresh fruit I'm picking or the dishes I've been baking?  Pictures and recipes will be forthcoming.  Tomorrow we are going into "town," which means a drive through the curvy and nausea-inducing mountainous roads.  I love being up here, but I'm not a fan of the carsickness I feel each and every time we drive anywhere.  

Spencer is having the best time- this morning she was playing with her Great-Gran and she turned to me and said "This is SO much fun! SO fun!"  We are staying here for the next week and half and I need some great fruit recipes.  Anyone have a particular favorite?  They have apples, peaches, blueberries and and raspberries.  I made a raspberry crisp last night and a peach cobbler tonight, so I need some ideas about what to make for tomorrow.  I was thinking about making an apple pie, but that seems a tad ambitious for someone of my limited baking caliber, ha! 

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

My baby brother Matthew

 (December 1991)

 Today was the day we took him to college.

He's going to be a freshman at Christopher Newport University, which is in the Newport News/Virginia Beach/Williamsburg area of Virginia. Since I knew that having Spencer and me there when they were trying to move everything in would be a DEE-saster, we left a few hours earlier than then and visited some of my friends in the area.

Our first stop was to see my friend Jenny, who just had her own baby Matthew two weeks ago.  I was so mad at myself because I forgot my camera, but trust me, he's a cute little guy.  He was born a few weeks early, so he's he very tiny, but I got to hold him and smell that sweet baby smell!  Spencer was actually really good around him- I thought she'd want to hold him and "play" with him, but she was more interested in playing with Jenny than Matthew, haha! She did give him a little kiss on the cheek and wanted to tickle his feet, but otherwise, she only had eyes for Jenny.  It was so nice to see Jenny and her precious little one. We stayed there for about an hour before heading off to our next destination- Casa Toni!

We went to see my friend Stephie at her parent's house and enjoyed an afternoon of swimming in their pool and eating lunch.  It was great to see her family again and Spence had a blast swimming.  They made us a lovely spread for lunch and it felt just like old times back in college.  Spencer had so much fun playing with Dylan, Steph's 6 year old nephew, and I think she has a little crush on him because she keeps on talking about him, haha! Hopefully we'll get down there one more time before the summer is over and when we can spend a little longer than a few hours.

Steph's parents only live a few minutes from CNU, so it didn't take us very long to get there- which was good, because Spence had had her fill of being in the car.  I found my brother's new dorm and as we walked to his room memories were flooding my mind of being in college.  Everyone looked so excited and for a few seconds I was jealous of them.  But then I snapped out of it and put on my happy face- because I really am happy for my brother.  I hope and pray that these next four years are as wonderful for him as my college years were for me.

 (Can you believe that's how my mom dressed us for Easter?  I thought I'd post this uber-embarrassing picture of me, circa 1993, so Matthew doesn't get mad at me for just showing his funny, but cute, pictures.)

It was mad chaos in his room- boxes, crates, trash, you name it, and it was in that tiny 12x10 room.  I helped do a few things, unpacked his clothes, hung up some things on the walls, and tried to organize his DVD collection- but it became pretty apparent that the less people in the room the better, so I figured we should say our goodbyes. I didn't cry, even though I wanted to.  I knew Matt wouldn't want me to cry because it would set off my mom's overactive waterworks (she was a tad emotional), so I bit my cheek, gave him a hug, and told him I loved him. Then, when no one could see, I let a few tears escape in the elevator.

Spencer slept for the entire hour and half ride back to Richmond and we finally got home around seven.  It was a long emotional day, but certainly one that I'll remember forever.  We said hello to new baby Matthew and waved goodbye to my own always-will-be-a-baby-to-me Matthew.

The Wonder Years

I'm in the midst of a whirlwind of busy that resembles something out of The Wonder Years.  Last night was my brother's graduation party and it was all kinds of make-me-feel-so-old.  He and a few of his volleyball friends had a joint pool party and the place was teeming with teenagers all about to embark on the best four years of their lives.  You could actually smell their excitement.  Because they rented a pool, the party didn't start until 8:30pm, which in the world of Spencer, is pretty late.  Add playing in the pool and two chocolate cupcakes into the mix, and you have the perfect formula for the longest night of my life.

Tomorrow is my mom's birthday and then Wednesday my baby bro actually graduates from high school at 10am in the morning, followed by a family celebratory lunch.  I get tired just reading that sentence.  So that's where I am right now...  I'm trying to be on my best behavior, but if I hear 525,600 Minutes, one more time, I just might scream.

My Sky Was in Love

Yesterday was my Papa's birthday and my mom, Spencer, and I went to his grave to put flowers on it and sing happy birthday.  He is buried, alongside of my Mema, in the military section of the cemetery, as he was a Decorated Seaman who served in the Navy during WWII.  Since his birthday is so close to Memorial Day, his flowers always have a patriotic theme and we add a little American flag- that's what my Mema always did for him and so we continue to do it in her place. I took out the older flowers that were already there and put them on a grave with an empty vase.  That was what my Mema always did- she hated to see someone's resting place without any flowers as if they were just forgotten.  Carrying on these little traditions that are relatively small in the big scheme of their lives, somehow makes me feel the closest to them.  It's the little, probably inconsequential, things that I think they wouldn't want me to forget.

On the drive home Spencer kept singing Happy Birthday to Papa and I joined along with her.  A storm was coming in and the clouds started rolling quickly in the sky. That's when I saw it: my sky was in love.
 

 It started off small and a little undefined, but I knew in my bones what it was going to be since I'd seen one once before- and I was right

 It started to take it's shape, growing a little, but never getting very big.

.  

And then the sky started to lighten up and my little cloud of love started to roll away just as quickly as it came in.  And I knew, I really really knew, that it was my Mema and Papa saying to me Thank you for remembering. We love you.

A Rose by Any Other Name

I can't tell you how many times I've been asked the story behind my daughter's name.  Many times I'd sit down to write a post on it and then it would somehow end up in permanent draft status.  One of my favorite things about Show Us Your Life is that it gives me the opportunity to write about things that I usually put off for a rainy blogger day.  This week's topic is about how you chose your child's name and/or future names.

I was one of those people that began thinking about my baby names as soon as I could name my dolls.  When I was a little girl I was sure that my future daughter was going to be Natasha!  As I got older I went through phases, but a few things have always stayed the same- the most important being that I didn't want to name my kids any names that were trendy or very popular.  Also, I like unisex names for girls, but not for boys and I think a middle name should be what it is- a middle name, and not what you call your child. (just my personal preference)  In middle and high school my favorite names were Jocelyn, Kayla, Grace, Savannah, and Vivien (yes, that's now my dog's name).  But then I outgrew some of them and the others become too nom de jour.

During my government/politico days, I was unequivocally naming my two daughters (I was only ever going to have daughters, ha!) Reagan and Madison after my two favorite presidents.  This was before Madison became the most popular name in the world.  When I realized how many people had started naming their kids that, I reluctantly decided I couldn't use the name.  I never put too much thought into boys names because, like I said, I was only going to have girls- and even if I did, I figured I'd let my husband do that naming since I'd done all the rest. haha. 

And then I found myself to be pregnant.

When I realized that I would actually be the one responsible for naming my child- it was no longer just "in theory," I was kind of overwhelmed.  I mean, this would be one of the only things that would stay with them for their entire life.  The wrong name and you end bearing the brunt of many a playground taunt.  One of my best friends growing up hated her middle name.  And when I say hate, I mean loathe and despise to the point that her mom even thought about having it legally changed.  She wouldn't tell me what is was for years and when she finally did, after being sworn to secrecy, I couldn't believe that was the name she hated so much.  To me, it was lovely, but to my friend, it was the worst name her mother ever could have bestowed upon her.  I'm sure her mom never thought that when she gave her daughter the-worst-middle-name-that-ever-was, that one day she'd dislike it so vehemently.  This was the story that kept replaying through my mind as I thought about the life long responsibility of naming my child.

I had never been particularly inspired to use family names when I used to think about the monikers for my future kids.  I think it was probably because my name is Katherine Elizabeth, which comes directly from my both of my grandmothers. From the very beginning they decided to call me Katie, which was the name of my great-grandmother.  When I was younger it used to bug me that there was nothing original about my name- it was just a copy.  But when I found out I was going to have a baby, that I was going to be a mother- all of a sudden it seemed monumentally important to me- I wanted the name to have a connection to our family history. Unfortunately, I wasn't all that fond of any of the female names in my immediate family. 

And then I found out that baby wasn't an "it" it was a "she!"  I did a lot of reading and family history research and I came up with two names:  Mayson Elizabeth and Spencer Kathryn.  I didn't tell anyone what my choices were except for my mom and my bestie, Sara.  It's always been my experience that when you tell someone the name of your unborn child that they're more willing to criticize the name.  When I was still in the narrowing down process, I made the mistake of telling some people close to me what my top choices were.  I didn't think that they'd tell me if they didn't like the names... but they did.  And then I could never think of them again without remembering their criticism; effectively ruining any chance that they would become my daughter's name.  Hence why I chose to keep my final two choices to myself.  A lot people didn't like this and I was constantly being asked about her name, but I stuck my guns and I'm glad that I did.

When my daughter was born I still hadn't made up my mind and I thought that I needed to see which name suited her best.  Since we had an extra long stay in the hospital, I had a few more days than normal to make my decision.  I had a really hard time finally deciding because I wanted to give her name that was both unique to her, but also connected to our family.

After three days of being "Baby Girl White," she was now Spencer Elizabeth White.  Spencer was my maternal-maternal great-great-grandmother's name and Elizabeth was my Mema's middle name as well my middle name.  Her initials SEW, obviously spell out sew, and my Mema was the one who taught me to sew, knit, and crochet.  When I was laying there trying to figure out what to do, I kept thinking that this might be the only child I ever have and I want her to share the name Elizabeth with us.  But I'd started thinking that "Mayson" might be too trendy, which was why I switched the names around. To me, her name was the perfect way to give my daughter a link to my beloved Mema who had just recently passed away. 

These days I don't think too much about baby names too often.  Mostly because every time I fall in love with a name it becomes super popular.  But I do have a few that I know I'll use if I ever get married and have another child. WARNING:  Don't Steal My Names or Else! (just kidding.. but...)  If I have a boy his name will be Anderson and call him Andy.  I know Anderson is a little trendy, but I don't care- Anderson is my mom's maiden name and everyone called my Papa "Andy" for short.  Other names I currently like are Finley, Pryce, Marlowe, Ellery, Beckett, and Bennett.

Everything I've learned about naming  a baby has led me to one conclusion:  a name is important, but it's not everything.  Like Juliet once said: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

** Please pray for my best friend's brother and his wife tonight.  He is the son of my pastor and more like a member of my family.  His wife was admitted to the hospital on Saturday with pre-eclampsia and is currently 25 weeks pregnant.  They were hoping that they'd be able to keep from delivering their son for at least another month, but the way things are looking, they're hoping for just another week now..  You can visit their CaringBridge site

My Mom

 Me, my Mom, and my Mema- the last picture ever taken of us all together.

My Mom has lived in the same town for her entire life;  all of her homes have been within a 10 mile radius of each other and within a 5 mile radius of her parent’s old house.  My grandparents were very strict with her; strict even by the standards of other devout Baptists circa the 1950's.  She was not allowed to go to any school dances, concerts, wear makeup or skirts that were more than one inch above her knee (my Papa often brought out his measuring tape if there was any doubt in his mind). My Mema made almost all of her clothes for her until she was a teenager- then my mom was old enough to get a job and she decided that she'd use her money to buy the clothes she wanted.  Although they weren't really the outfits she wanted since they had to conform to the above mentioned rules.

My mom would tell me these stories over and over again as I was growing up, as if she were willing me to understand how different her life had been from mine. I couldn't believe she was talking about the same people who were my Mema and Papa. I never understood why she always followed every single one of their rules- didn't she ever just want to be herself?  But she never did; my mom was the quintessential good daughter who truly loved and respected her parents.  If they said no, she wouldn't do it. 

Her parents were both larger than life types, with dominant personalities, whereas my mother was more submissive and eager to please.  She never rebelled against them or disobeyed,  always showing them the proper respect.  But she dreamed of one day becoming a mother and doing all the things with her daughter that she did not get to do.

My mom thought she would love her daughter in all the ways she had felt unloved by her mother, and in return, her daughter would love her in the way she had unfailingly and loyally loved her mom.  I think she saw the first crack in this dream when her only daughter, me, informed her at the tender age of two that she didn't want to be rocked to sleep anymore.  She tried for the next week to keep rocking me, hoping it was a one time thing, but I kept telling her no until she eventually gave up trying. A few years later she signed me up for dance lessons and after the first class I begged her to not make me go back.  As a child she'd always wanted to take ballet lessons, something she never got to do.  Naturally, she assumed I would feel the same and be excited about it.  These types of occurrences would happen again, many times over, as I grew up.

As I got older I became very close to my Mema and I could tell that our close bond sometimes upset my mom.  Being the wonderful daughter that I was, I would often flaunt this in front of her. In my mom’s eyes, the relationship she had longed to have with her mother was the one I had with her and the relationship she had longed to have with her daughter, her mother had with me.  I was nothing like the girl she had imagined having; I was more like her mom, minus the uber strict moral code.  My Mema and I, we just had a different relationship- I think granddaughters and grandmothers do, it's just how it is. But to my mom, she didn't have the mother who appreciated her or the daughter.

It was always an issue, especially after my Mema died.  I remember the day that the funeral home gave my mom my Mema's possessions that she'd been wearing when she passed-  one of which was her engagement ring and wedding band.  My mom clutched it in her hand, looking down at the ring she had stared out for a lifetime on her mother's finger. With tears rolling down her face she took a deep breath and handed it to me, saying that my Mema had told her she wanted me to have her ring.  She could have kept it for herself- she loved that ring- but she didn't.  That's not the kind of daughter she was.  My mother always did what her mom wanted and asked her to do and death certainly wasn't going to change my mom from being the daughter she had always been.  

The Post Where a Title Eludes Me

I feel like we've been so busy, but now that I'm trying to write about it, it doesn't seem so, well, busy. I'm just going to dive right in! On Saturday we met Spencer's MiMi at the airport to pick her up from a two week long business trip.  She missed Spencie so much that we've been staying with them these past few days.  Since we missed her birthday, as she was an out-of-towner, on Sunday we baked the most delicious, mouthwatering, make-you-want-to-weep, carrot cake.  It took almost all day to make and bake and ice that baby, but it was so worth every scrumptious, highly caloric bite!  I took many a picture of the baking and making process, but I don't have my camera doo-hickey that hooks up to my computer, so I can't download the pictures yet.

I finally joined the rest of mainstream America on Sunday night, as I watched New Moon for the first time. Yes, I'm about 5-6 months behind, but at least I can now say I'm like every other teeny bopper in the universe!  (No offense to those of you who aren't teeny boppers and love Twilight, etc.)

On Monday I got to sleep in and when I woke up breakfast was made for me as I watched Regis and Kelly... heavenly.  And then us gals went and got pedicures!  It was Spencer's first "pedi," but she loved every second of it.  (I also loved every second of it because it was my first one in over a year!) Spence just stood in the water for a minute and then got her toes painted, nothing else, so it wasn't a real pedi for her, but she was thrilled just the same. I took a bunch of pictures of that too, but for the aforementioned reason, I can't post them.  I did try and snap a few of Spencer's tootsies in the car, but it was difficult- here's the best with the least blur:

Spence is absolutely in love with her toes and she takes great joy in showing everybody.  After we had our girly afternoon I had to go to my sociology class.  We had a test and after it was over he let us leave early. (And no, this wasn't our final, out final is on the 10th, which I think is kinda stinky- a test and a final all in two weeks.)   So on my way back the PGP's house, it's about a 45 minute drive, there were some crazy storms that I had to drive through.  But because it was such a long drive, and I was traveling behind the storm, I got to see two separate rainbows!  They were miles apart and I tried to my best take pictures of them while I was driving.  They aren't the best, but you get the idea.

I like to think it was a double good omen!  And I'm so glad that I took these pictures, because you couldn't see them from the PGP's house.  So where am I now?  Tuesday.  Which was yesterday and I should be able to easily recall the events.  I didn't do much yesterday except go the store to buy some sticker books for Spencer, hang out and do a little studying, watch It's Complicated (the movie with Meryl Streep, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin), read a little, and watch GLEE, etc. I love, love, love, that show. It makes me miss high school, as I was a cheerleader and in the show choir, but it also brings back so many wonderful memories. And then I went to sleep at 11pm. Eleven P. M.  That is unheard of in my world.  

And now we are all caught up to today, whew!  Today the PGP's took Spencie to story time at the library while I snoozed and then woke up and watched the tube and did some studying.  When they got back we we went to the Farmer's Market only to find out that on Wednesdays it's from 3-7pm instead of from 8am-12pm like it is on Saturdays. So we will be heading back there later on this afternoon. Spencer is taking a nap right now, Praise The Lord!  She hasn't been napping since we've been here and she's not been all that pleasant to be around after 3pm.  I couldn't take another afternoon of it and I spent the last hour trying to coax her into dreamland.  

Tomorrow we are going home.  Which means this is my last night of having someone else cook dinner for me(us).  Sometimes it's nice to not always have to do everything by myself, ya know?  I need to make sure our homestead is still there and other various chores.  I have my Anatomy final on Saturday and that's going to be...special.  (not in the good way.)  How weird is this- even though our final is this Saturday, we still have two more labs and one more quiz left to do?  That's just C-RAZY!  

Okay, well I think that's all.  I'm going to try and get those pictures up here soon, along with the recipe for the-best-carrot-cake-recipe-that-has-and-will-ever-exist-here-on-earth.  And just as soon as school is over for the semester I will resume a regular posting schedule.  Promise!

Sundry

Yesterday was not the best day.  I had to take my anatomy test at nine in the morning and it was insane!  We just had a huge test three weeks ago, four chapters/175 questions, and I incorrectly assumed this one would be shorter and not as brain numbing since it was only on two chapters.  So it was not to my delight when I saw that there were 222 questions with a two hour time limit!  About five minutes before my time was up, I still had over 30 questions unanswered and I about had a meltdown.

Thankfully, my teacher took some pity on me and told me not to worry and that I could have as much time as I needed.  I guess I looked at her strangely, because she then informed me that of the 10 people who had already taken the test, the average grades were between a 40 and 50! (We take the tests by ourselves at a scheduled time within a couple of days window)  I was definitely glad to have the extra time, but it freaked me out that everyone had done so poorly.  When I was finally finished with it, my brain actually hurt.

Then I had to pick up Spencer from my mom's house and my mom was not happy that I'd been gone so long- since I had told her it would be about two hours.  I was like, are you kidding me?  It's not like I was out shopping or hanging out with friends and lost track of time- I was taking a test.  A TEST!  She didn't seem to understand the difference; I told her two hours and by the time I got back to her house it had been almost three and half hours.  So this did not put me in a good mood. Not. At. All.  And then, after my brain was telling me it needed a nap, I couldn't, as I had another test last night in my sociology class!  That one went swimmingly, but still.  Today has been much better, although I'm still kind of wiped out. 

So now that I've had my little rant/pitty party, I will move on to other things- like Easter!  This Easter was much better than last year, by about a gazillion.  Spencer didn't have any meltdowns and she was pretty happy almost the entire day.  Well, she was a little upset and confused about why the Easter Bunny didn't leave any baby bunnies for her, but she got over it, ha!  She kept telling everyone on Saturday that "A wabbit is coming!"  On Sunday morning she was very happy with her all of the treats in her basket, but she kept asking me "where's the wabbit?"  When I showed her the stuffed animal rabbit, she shook her had and looked at me like I was not the most intelligent being.  She then very adamantly told me "No, mommy, where's the weal wabbit?"  I didn't want her to have a temper tantrum before church, so I did what any good parent does and I waved the chocolate bunny in front of her and all was right again.

Then we went to church and they had an egg hunt for all the little kids.  She started off doing really well, running around and grabbing eggs left and right.  Then she saw another kid was eating a piece of candy and she it was like she had an epiphany: there were treats in the eggs!  So she plopped her bottom on the ground and began chowing down.  I let her open a few, but then I stealthily took it away and turned her in the direction of the slide, where a few of the kids were playing. You know Spencer and her love for slides, and she zoomed over to it.  I was pretty proud myself- two potential crises averted! 

After the service was over we went home so Spencer could take a nap before Easter dinner.  Oddly enough, she kept sleeping and sleeping and sleeping and didn't want to get up.  After two and half hours I gently woke her and she said, "I don't want to get up, I seepy."  That's the first, and I'm sure the last, time those words will ever come out of her mouth!  I finally managed to coax her up with assurances that "The Wabbit" had left some more surprises for her at my aunt's house.  This was a-okay with her and we made it over to my aunt's and Spence got to do another(!) egg hunt.  When dinner was over she kept trying to find more eggs, so I re-hid a few more so she could re-find them.  I was worried she was going to go into sugar shock, but as soon as we got in the car she fell right asleep.  Which was good for me, since I had a lot of studying to do.

And that was Easter!  Holidays are getting to be much more fun now that Spencer can understand what's going on and that if she's a good girl she'll get some treats/presents.  It's also probably my most effective means of behavior control, haha. Is that really wrong?

Power Tools

We were in North Carolina all of last week.  On Friday evening Spencer's cousin came up to spend the weekend with his grandparents, who live just down the mountain side.  They'd met once before when she had just turned one, but they were both completely oblivious to one another.  This time they were both fascinated by each other.

After tagging along with the grown-ups while they were walking the dogs, Spencer and her cousin moved right on to the next logical thing:  power tools!  To be more specific, a Fischer Price "Power Saw."  His grandparents had already split a piece of wood for him, so he could pretend that he sawed all of the way through the log.  They took turns, but Spencer just couldn't quite get it.  So her cousin gave her little lesson and how to best wield such a powerful piece of machinery. hehe

Showing her how to do it "right"

Then they decided they'd had enough of that and they moved right along to Poppy's tractor.  Spencer might have been willing to be more demure where the power saw was concerned, but not when it came to the tractor!  She was going to drive it and that was that.  (The engine was off and the keys were not in the ignition)  He didn't seem too mind too much and provided a nice soundtrack of tractor noises while Spencer was "driving"

She's thinking that this sharing stuff is for the birds...

Edging her way over

Making her move...

And going in for the win - a toddler on a mission.

And when the day was over, they weren't just cousins- they were friends, too.

Go Go Go and Stop

By 11:30am this morning I felt like I'd just ran a marathon.  We got up and went to the grocery store, the drug store, McDonalds and the gas station.  Then there was the making (more like assembling) of two separate dishes from my grocery store purchases, getting showered, appropriately dressed and made up, then doing the same for Spence, loading up all the food into the car, driving twenty miles to drop off Spencer and then back in the opposite direction towards my final destination.  All of that by 11:30am.  I was so focused on getting everything done in time that I never even stopped, never even paused, to think about why I was actually doing all of this.

I walked into the building and found a place to sit- which was difficult because it was jam packed full with people.  I couldn't even find my mom, so I just sat down in one of the arm chairs they put out since all of the regular seating was full. As I sat there catching my breath the cloying scent of too many flowers in a confined space wafted over, tickling my nose and snapping me back to reality.  I was at a funeral.  The second time in two weeks that death had visited someone in my life.

The man who passed away is (was) my best friend's father-in-law.  But he was more than that- he was a family friend and The Best Man to my Maid of Honor.  One week before Sara's wedding, her soon to be father-in-law received the news that would forever change their lives.  He was diagnosed with an extremely rare neurodegenerative disease.  It was similar to ALS in that it would rob him of his ability to move and speak, all while his mind worked just fine.  But ALS has a life expectancy of 1-2 years after diagnosis, while his was 4-7 years.  That might sound like the better of the two deals, but trust me, it's not. All it meant was that he was trapped in his body longer.

A few days before the wedding they gave me the news.  It wasn't something they were ready to share with anyone yet, but I needed to know.  I was the maid of honor and he was the best man- he would climb the steps to the alter and then escort me down them and out of the very large church.  He was worried that he might trip, stumble, or fall in front of everyone- he didn't want to embarrass his son or do anything that might take the focus off of the bride and groom. To the untrained eye it might have looked like he was escorting me, but I was there for him.  As we linked arms on the alter stairs I could see the nervousness in his eyes, I gave him a little nod and squeezed his arm- I wanted him to know that I wouldn't let anything happen.  And it didn't.

He was a good, kind man.  At the viewing last night, the line to greet his wife was over an hour wait; over 500 people came to pay their respects and it took over five hours.  The service today was beautiful, filled with pictures, loving anecdotes and eulogies.  As I sat there in that arm chair all by myself, tears filled my eyes.  I had been going, going, going and now that I had stopped, the sadness of it all just become so real to me.  The unfairness.  He was a very active man- played tennis, ran every day, an avid skier, world traveler, dancer, and a successful owner of his own business.  He was a man's man, a gregarious Southern Gentleman, a devoted father to his son. It's a terrible disease for anyone to have, but it was particularly cruel for a someone like him.  Everything he was, everything he loved to do, it was all steadily taken away from him, with no hope that it would ever get any better.

Sara's son was born a few months ago and I had the privilege of taking some family photographs of them.  Sara's little boy was named after his grandpa, but it was going to be a surprise. In the hospital room I stood to the side as a son introduced his newborn son to his father.  I watched as he told him what his grandson's name was.  I took picture after picture, the flood of tears spilling out of my eyes made it a little difficult for me to see. It was a beautiful moment.  And even though he couldn't move, couldn't speak- the love and pride he felt shone in his eyes.  This is the picture I took the moment he found out the name of his first grandson.

They truly were the only windows into his soul, and they spoke volumes. 

After the funeral was over I was in charge of collecting all the food and driving it over to the post-graveside lunch reception.  I started feeling the urge to Go, Go, Go and accomplish my task.  But then I said to myself, Stop.  Life is so short and so much of it is spent just running through the motions and getting to the next thing all on autopilot. It's hard for me to press pause and savor the moment, but it's something I'm going to try to do from now on.  I don't want to miss the important moments or breeze right through them without realizing that I am.  Sometimes you just need to Stop.

Wednesday? Really?

How did it get to be Wednesday already?  We've been super busy, but still... Wednesday?

Well, this weekend my parents were out of town, so we stayed over there dog sitting for the four puppies.  Although they aren't really puppies.  One two and half year old plus plus four dogs (one of which is our Vivi- the 95lb Great Dane) equals one really tired Mommy.  But it was fun; I love being with all my dogs and so does Spencer.  She really loves little Gus, he's not too fond of her, but he did like to sleep by her feet at night- so she went to sleep in 7th Heaven!

My parentals and brother didn't get back until Monday evening and then yesterday we went over to Spencer's PGP's house for the day/night.  I had to take an Anatomy quiz, (I'm now taking Anatomy 2) so they occupied her while I locked myself in their upstairs office studying, etc.  And this morning I took my quiz (I aced it) and then had to go to the school bookstore for a new lab manual.  For some unknown reason they switched lab manuals, but not textbooks, and I had to go buy a new one.  Are you ready for this?  The new manual was $120!  It wasn't even a hard back book.  CRAZY!

So after many nights away, we're now back home and Spencer is napping.  She doesn't nap well away from home, or sleep well for that matter, so she was in serious need of a nice long snooze.  For the first couple of days she was okay, but for the last two she's woken up around 6am, hasn't taken a nap, and wouldn't fall asleep until almost 10pm.  Needless to say, or write, we're both pretty exhausted. 

Spencer's PGP (her PGrandaPa) gave me the funniest nugget of wisdom today and I just had to share it with ya'll.  A little back story, he is a republican and Carol (Spencer's MiMi) is NOT.  Okay, so this morning I came downstairs for breakfast and he was watching Fox News.  I gave him a half smile along with a raised eyebrow and slight eye roll and he laughed.  Then he said "Katie, when you get married you need to marry a democrat- that way you can both watch the same TV." Hahaha!  Whenever it's time to watch the news, one of them goes upstairs to watch their channel while the other stays downstairs to watch their preferred channel. But typically, I don't like my news with any kind of partisan slant, so hopefully I'll find someone like that. Anyway, I just thought that was so funny, so I had to blog it. 

Helpless

My friend who died ended his own life.  I found out today.

From the outside looking in, it appeared as though the world was his oyster.  He had a beautiful, intelligent wife, a house, and a loving family.  For what more could you ask?  I was looking at some of his pictures the other day, before any of this happened, and I thought to myself that he looked so happy, so loved.  He was one of the last people I would ever think could make such a decision;  to choose death over life.  

As sad as I am for him, all I can think about is his wife.  They were supposed to have a lifetime together- to grow old with each other.  And now she's alone; left by herself to pick up the pieces and somehow move forward.  It makes me queasy to think about the helplessness she must feel.  What must she have gone through when she went home and found him?

I've experienced depression before.  Shortly after my Mema died my dad was diagnosed with Small B-Cell Lymphoma, specifically Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma.  Within four months my world was turned upside down and I was devastated.  Months later I no longer recognized myself and my parents were so worried about me.  I got help, went to a psychiatrist and was put on an anti-depressant.  After awhile things began to look brighter and I was slowly weaned off of them under my doctor's supervision.  It was a painful time in my life, but I never thought about ending it.  That's why I know he must have been in such tremendous despair.


It's taken me five minutes to write the word.  Suicide.  It takes my breath away like a punch to the stomach.  I don't know if he reached our to anyone or if he kept it all bottled inside.  What if someone I'm close to is experiencing the same thoughts and feelings?  How can I help?  I hope I'm the kind of person that someone could turn to, but maybe I'm not.  I don't know, what are the right words to say?

Tonight, I'm feeling helpless.

Jesus, Where Are You?

On New Year's Day my aunt had the family over to her house for brunch. After we ate, the men went in one room to watch football and us ladies went into another room to watch the parade. Since football just has to be watched on the biggest and best screen in the house (dripping in sarcasm), the boys were in the family room and we were in the living room.

Spencer and living rooms don't mesh well together; they're like oil and water, salt and pepper, Yoko Ono and the Beatles. She immediately went over to the Nativity and started playing with animals and Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. I did NOT think this was a good idea, not at all, but my aunt was sitting beside her and said it was okay, that she was watching her. A few minutes later I was deeply engrossed in my new Kindle when I heard Spencer say "it's a missin'!" I didn't think too much about it because she likes to make things go missing so she can then say "I found it!" But then I felt a tug on my pant leg- I looked up at Spencer and saw she was holding a manger in her hands- a manger that was missing a particularly important baby.

And then I heard it.

Jesus, where are You?

There are some things that in this world that a person should just avoid, and losing the Baby Jesus is one of them. So we set about the house looking for Him, with Spencer continually yelling "Jesus, where are You?" It's not a huge house and my aunt is borderline OCD about keeping it pristine and clutter-free; losing anything there would be a challenge. But after 20 minutes of searching, the manger was still empty and Spencer was still yelling, hoping Baby Jesus would answer her. They men/boys were still fixated on football, telling us they had no idea where it was and they hadn't seen Jesus- basically, we were annoying them and they just wanted to watch the game in peace and quiet.

We eventually gave up our search, well, everyone except for Spencer. I've never seen her stay so focused on anything for that long, she just wouldn't give up! A little bit later she gleefully shouted "Jesus! There You are! I found it, I found it!" And guess where it was hiding? Underneath my dad- he was sitting on top of Baby Jesus. We probably won't let him live that one down for a long time! Of course my dad said he had no idea how that could've happened, he'd never even laid eyes on it before.

There are some things in this world that a person should avoid, and I'm certain that sitting on top of the Baby Jesus is one them.

Christmas Predux

My spell check is telling me that predux isn't a work, but it should be, so I'm using it. These next few days are going to be busy- biizzzzeee (that's how I say it). Tomorrow we are going to see the Legendary Santa, and since he's the real Santa, lines are usually 2+ hours. This is the same Santa Claus I used to visit, well not the exact same, since the REAL Santa died a few weeks ago, this one is his son, so it's almost the same.

We are lucky that Spencer's Mimi is getting there at 7am to start waiting in line (some crazies get there at 5am) and we'll join her around 9am. By about 10:30am we (she) should be on Santa's lap- hopefully! After that we're going to spend the day with the PGP's and do gifts with them before heading to my parent's house to spend the night with them. I have to watch Home Alone and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation before going to sleep- it's just my thing I do every year.

On Christmas morning we'll do gifts and everything and then my aunt will come over for lunch/dinner. And then everyone will pass out around 7pm from sheer exhaustion. Then the saddest day of the year will be here, December 26. It's just such a sad day, isn't it? So that's my Christmas predux, be prepared for the redux that will be sure to follow.

Santa Claus at Our House

When Santa visits our house on Christmas Eve, he (she) will be leaving a few presents for Spencer. She doesn't know about these gifts yet, of course, but I am itching to give them to her! Her current stage has left us with very few toys that she now finds entertaining or challenging -she grows bored of them very quickly. So even though these are presents for Spencer, in a way, they're also presents for me- haha!

Since both of these toys are what I consider to be "big" this is all she'll be getting from me, besides some of the accessories that go with the presents, her stocking gifts and annual Christmas Ornament. The first one is the darling red kitchen set. The next door neighbors have a kitchen for their granddaughter and Spencer LOVES it. Whenever we go over to their house, she immediately heads right to the kitchen and starts playing until I have to make her stop so that we can leave.

It's made of wood, which really makes me happy and it's just so darn cute!

I hadn't exactly planned on this being one of her presents, but the other day when we were at Toys That Teach, she saw this house and was so enthralled by it. No other toy in the store held a candle to it, she only had eyes for this doll house. It's the Calico Critters and Sylvanian Families and when I was little I had one almost just like it. It was called Maple Town in my generation, circa 1987, but they're practically identical. There's just something I really like about the idea of Spencer playing with a toy that I also played with as well.


Here's a look at the inside of the house. And the best part- it comes already assembled! It doesn't get much better than that folks! I bought her one family and few items for the house. I'm actually really looking forward to making it a "real home" and decorating it with her over the next couple of years.

And that is what I have ordered from Mr. Claus. What gifts are ya'll giving your kids this year?