We love you Granny!

Well, after weeks of struggle, I’m sad to say that Jody’s darling little grandmother finally went home to be with her Lord. Tonight was the viewing and I should still be at the funeral home with the family. Instead, thanks to a mischievous 3-year-old, I’m sitting here in the house since I got tired of trying to catch him in my 3-inch high heels. As I sit here, lots of things go through my mind. After just three days, the grief is still raw for everyone. We all knew it was coming, but, well, how do you say goodbye to someone that you love?

I’m all right most of the time, but every now and then the image of that moment pops into my mind. One minute you know who you are and who you love. They’re sick and you know time is limited, but they’re THERE. Two seconds later, they’re just NOT. Then follows days of crying and laughing and preparing for the final goodbye. Hard days, but necessary ones.

As my mother-in-law and I sat laminating and carefully placing ribbons on the keepsake bookmarks for the service, we couldn’t help but think about the woman whose life we were celebrating tomorrow. Words cannot accurately describe Doris Marcantel. Doris was always one of those people who was happy with her lot in life. She was happy for whatever she had and, in my 11 years of knowing her, never heard her complain about not having enough.

She loved her friends, her family, and most especially her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, which she ended up having plenty of. Granny “Sirod” as they call her, was a favorite destination on any given day, but most especially at Halloween. You could always count the “green witch” to be standing by her cauldron doling out oodles of candy and popcorn balls. Even if she knew only one or two kids besides the grandkids would come by, she went all out.

And the fun never stopped there. Doris was always cooking something. If you came by, you were GOING to eat something. More often than not I’d catch my husband and boys sneaking over there to “check on Granny” right about noon. Yeah, right. I knew what they were up to and more often than not was happy to tag along. She was just as wonderful a cook as you can imagine.

We would eat and laugh and gossip, of course, and we’d always talk about the grandkids and any new additions coming up as well as fond memories of the past. My favorite of all time has to be at my wedding reception. My cousin, Caitlin, was my maid of honor and she was determined to catch the bouquet. Being a good cousin and bride, I tried my best to aim for Caitlin. I missed. My bouquet gaily sored through the air and smacked poor Granny square on the head. I was mortified, but she had quite a good giggle and loved to remind me about that on my anniversary.

Granny and I made some good memories. We traveled many a mile to Nacogdoches together taking her to her foot doctor and then me going to my prenatal appointments. We learned a lot about each other (and where NOT to eat Mexican food) on those trips. And while the prenatal appointments are permanently behind me now, I’ll think of her every time I head through that long road between here and there.

I could go on and on, but they boys just got back and we’re headed over to eat some of the masses of food that kind friends and neighbors have brought to us in our time of grief. We love you Granny. We miss you. We always will.

What a Week!

What a nice weekend! The weather is pretty, the boys are getting along and Jody has one of his rare weekends off. We've pretty much just vegged out here at the house. The one thing we did manage to do was to get Colt's pool set up and ready for summer.

We cleaned it out, filled it up, and turned him loose. He did good for a few hours. That is, until Jody had to come inside for a minute. He had only taken his eyes off him for a second and was heading back out the door when I heard him yell.

Now, knowing we live about 20 feet from a MAJOR highway, I was worried that Colt had gotten too close to the road. It was worse than I thought. Just as Jody was going out the door, apparently a little pair of trunks went over the side of the pool . . . sans Colt.

While Jody and I were having fits trying to gather him up, he was happily giving everyone that passed a free peek at him skinny dipping! We finally managed to get the slippery little eel back in his drawers and inside, but boy what a situation. Hopefully no one we knew passed. Hmm . . . wonder if duct tape is kid proof. Maybe that could keep his drawers on.

Summer Ahead!

Well, it's Tuesday. Bleh. Three more days until the weekend! Seems like it will never get here. Lots of work and cleaning to do this week and no energy to do it with. But at least summer's coming up quick. No more getting the kids up at the crack of dawn to get ready for school. They can sleep until noon and I can use that time to get all my stuff done. I'm sure I'll be using a couple of those days to sleep till noon too . . . maybe.

Now if I can just find some good recipes for summer. I'm still stuck in winter food mode. I love the soups and stews and casseroles that are warm and cheesy and good during winter. I love them all year around, but having a big bowl of chili in 90 degree weather kind of ruins it.

So I'm trying to find something that good for the hotter weather that isn't strictly sandwiches or hot dogs. Guess it's time to fire up the old grill and cook some steaks this weekend. And put the pool up. And store the winter clothes. Or maybe I'll just put it off for one more week and sleep late since next week will be really busy with the 8th grade graduation coming up and vacation plans to be made.

Hope everyone has a great week!

TGIF

This has been one of those weeks when you're glad to see it end. You know the kind I'm talking about . . . starts out great and then fizzles like a balloon with a leak. UPS has been a tremendous thorn in my side all week. That Lufkin office can't seem to keep up with anything or manage to deliver before 6pm even when you've paid for advanced delivery.

On a different note . . . Jody's grandma is still hanging on. Her vitals remain steady though there's been no improvement. She's a fighter and we all keep hoping that maybe we can get one more miracle where she's concerned.

As for the weekend, well, Brandon is escaping to his grandparents house . . . again. Jody is off and we're just going to veg out and watch T.V. Well, he is. I've got papers to do and a report to write for class. Colt is busy tearing everything in the house off the walls in between trying to stick things in the microwave because "I need to cook." If you fix him something, he won't eat it, but he still feels the need to blow up something in the microwave at least once an hour.

And speaking of the little stinker, he taught his father a valuable lesson yesterday. Mama was right. Hunting is very, very annoying. Now, for those of you who don't know yet, I HATE HUNTING. I loathe it. I hate the spider filled deer stands, mosquito filled woods, and billions of deer horns that my guys continually drag into the house and insist on putting onto my walls. I hate watching the demon-like beady eyes of the stuffed deer head mounts that creepily watch you as you go about your daily chores. I hate opening my dryer to find that it's been infested with "dirt smell" from the dryer tabs that my hunters use to keep the deer from smelling them. But the thing I hate the most is having to wait on the guys to get back from the hunting or checking cameras or checking out their hunting spots because I want to go out somewhere and they insist on coming too, but also insist they need to do the "guy stuff" first.

Jody has never understood how much of a pain it is when someone insists on doing that when you have other things you'd much rather be doing. But Colt gave him a good feel for it yesterday. It all started when Colt decided to go ride his electric 4-wheeler that he got for his birthday. Well, we figured we'd trail behind him and watch him. We got him outside and put him on the thing and he takes off. He's speeding (at a whopping 3 miles per hour) across the yard and heads up the small trail that runs by our house.

Of course I had to go change into my tennis shoes so that I could go through the woods with them, but imagine my surprise when I get out there and they're GONE. I knew Jody had him so I came back inside and amused myself with a book. About 30 minutes later Jody carries a kicking and screaming 3-year-old into the house. He wasn't done. His dad was.

Apparently I should be really glad that I missed it. The ride started out okay. He went through the loop, then back and up through the high line, then he stops and says, "Where is the deer camera?" Jody tells him there's no camera out right now, so he jumps back on and takes off. He travels a huge trail through the land next to ours. He stops again. "I need to check the deer feeder." Again, no go. Not that time of year. Here they go again. Now, remember, Jody is walking the WHOLE time and it's hot and humid and mosquito filled out there. He's learned that it's not quite so fun when you have to wait on someone else to do all the riding. But they finally make it home and he gets him stopped long enough to pry his hands from the handle and bring him inside, screaming all the way.

But all in all three good lessons were learned. #1 - Jody's learned to take his own 4 wheeler with them when Colt goes riding. #2 - I've learned not to offer to let him in the yard unless his daddy's there to follow him, and #3 - I've learned that he's finally old enough to participate in the hunting stuff and so his daddy can't say he's too small to take this year. (Woo hoo! Three whole months of guy stuff which leaves me hours and hours of reading time!) Hmm . . . maybe I don't hate hunting so much after all.

Hope everyone has a great Friday and a super weekend!

Over the Hump

Wednesday is FINALLY drawing to a close and I couldn't be happier. Got a lot done today with work, starting this, and my facebook duties, of course. Brandon is in his room, supper is cooking on the stove and Jody is, of course, outside chasing Colt who seems to think that he needs to sleep in the dirt with his dog despite the fact that it's lime disease season!

He's been up since 6am (which is late for him) and he's gone non-stop ever since. He managed to be semi-good when we went to see Jody's grandmother. Granny hasn't had any change since yesterday, but they've unhooked her IV. She rests most of the time thanks to the pain killers they give her, but she did open her eyes for a second. It's hard seeing her like that, but it's in God's hands now. All we can do is pray.

We got home a little bit ago and Jody decided to lift weights for a bit after he fed the dogs. He had just started lifting the bar (only around 100 pounds as it's just a light workout weight for Brandon that's currently on there). Heck, I could lift that much. Anyhow, he's just begun and he hears this little voice say, "Daddy, you're gonna break your arms!" The things kids come up with. His dad is 6 foot and 240. He's not going to break a nail lifting a measly 100lbs, much less his whole arm.

Anyhow, that's it for today. It's enough I think, especially with my other two posts. You can be sure that I won't be posting three every day. This is just like all new things, you over do it the first day and then it evens itself out.

Happy Wednesday everyone! The worst of the week is over and the pre-weekend workday starts early tomorrow. Hope everyone has a great evening and that all of you are well.

P.S. Here's the first photo of my boys. Brandon was half-asleep and Colt had just been drug in from outside where we, once again, had to chase him down since it was still cold and he tried sneaking out in his little tank top!

Changing of the Guard

Nothing in this world is harder than losing a loved one, unless you count those who have to sit and wait while that person slowly slips away. Everyone and everything dies. That’s just a fact of life. Does it make it easier? No. Of course not. No kind words, prayers, or morsels of wisdom can dull the jagged edge that’s ripped into your soul when you lose someone you love and who has been an integral part of your everyday.

As I sit here, my husband’s grandmother is slowly releasing her grip on this world. It hurts me. It hurts to see the pain that creeps into his eyes when he thinks about it. It hurts to know that, that look will go from every once in a while to a constant state in the coming weeks. It hurts to know that the woman who has become, not only a friend to me, but grandmother to my children, and who owns a prominent spot in my memories for the last 10 years won’t be there to populate the ones that are still to come.

Colt is the same age that I was when I lost my father’s mother. I have only a couple of memories of her and they’re vague. It’s difficult to realize that is all Colt will remember of her. . . a vague picture in his mind coupled with the stories that his family tells. It’s not fair, but it’s part of the transition.

Each generation deals with this. First you’re the kids, all play and fun. Then the teen that looks forward to “finally” starting your life. Then the young adult, marrying, starting your own family. It’s not until that point, the one when you’ve got kids of your own, that it starts to happen. Yes, every family has deaths. Accidents and illness are as much a part of life as births are. But those are different. Those are sharp jabs. Pain that comes sporadically and leaves you with a lingering ache. What I’m talking about is the tearing away and reshaping of your world that happens when the old die and the next generation moves up to take their place.

My world started shifting in the 80s, though I didn’t know it then. The first change was the loss of my father’s mother when I was three. The second my grandfather (my mother’s stepfather). The third the death of my great-grandmother (my father’s grandmother). The fourth, with my mother’s father. Mercifully, I still have my grandmother (my mother’s mother) and my grandfather (my father’s father). I know the change is coming, but I pray every day that it takes a long, long time to get here.

For my husband and his family that momentous change is here. There is no turning back and no reprieve. His father’s parents passed years ago, back in the late 80s and early 90s. His remaining grandfather passed the month before we met. And so it was that his Granny was the only person I knew of the “old guard” as I call our older generations.

Doris was the kind of person whom you always picture in the grandmother role. She was sweet, gossipy, and always cooking something. She loved her kids and grandkids. She loved talking to them and about them. I can’t count the number of times we’ve laughed over the fact that she’d complain about one set of grandkids to us and then turn around and complained about us to them! We all knew she did it and it was funny. That was just Granny.

And though she’s in most of my memories I’ve made with my husband and his family, the ones at Halloween stand out most in my mind right now. Granny always dressed up as a witch. She had a cauldron and sat outside, talking and laughing with whomever drove up the little dirt road to her house. She always had way too much candy and would spend weeks afterward trying to foist it off on whichever of her great-grandkids showed up. She was quick to laugh and quick to forgive. She spoke her mind, but always listened with an open heart.

When she broke her back last year and had to be put in the nursing home, we all talked about bringing her home with a nurse, but we all knew it wasn’t to be. We’ve watched this once vibrant lady slowly slip away, no matter how hard everyone has held on. She’s changed, just as everyone does at this point. Her full rosy cheeks have become sallow and sunken. Her ringing voice is silent and her eyes remain closed as she sleeps to the sounds of the oxygen and IV drips by her hospital bed.

The doctors have done what they can and we know what is coming. She is the last of the grandparents for my husband and his siblings. The changing of the guard is upon us. In less than a month my in-laws will become the next in line. My husband, myself, and my sisters and brothers-in-law will take their places. My son will continue his rapid race towards the place where we are now.

In less than a decade, it will be our turn to become the grandparents and my husband’s parents the great-grandparents. God willing, we’ll have many, many more years before another change takes place, but I know it’s coming. Child – teen – parent – grandparent – great-grandparent – change.

It hurts. God how it hurts. But it’s a cycle as old as time itself. And, as we prepare for the hurt and the healing that is rapidly approaching, I try to remember that it’s not the end. We’ve been through this before with other loved ones. Knowing that there is a God and that there is life after death for those who believe, I can’t help thinking that it’s just the cycle starting over. She is leaving this world and being born into the next as Jesus promised. Sad for us, happy for her.

I know she’ll be there waiting, along with those who went before, for the next generation to join them. Eventually it will be our turn and, while I intend to enjoy this life with everything I have in me, I’m not afraid. Knowing that my turn will come helps me get through. One day we will see her again. We’ll shift from this world into the next to be with our loved ones and our Lord. Until then, all I can say is good journey, Granny. We will miss you always and we will see you in God’s good time. Until then, remember us and know that you’re forever in our hearts and our prayers. We love you.

Moments in Time

There are moments in life that define who you are, who you were, and who you will be. They don’t come often, but they do come. I’ve had three. My first was the birth of my oldest son, Brandon. My life had been laid out, every plan was in place, and then SURPRISE! Children were certainly not what I had planned, especially at the ripe old age of 18. No, definitely not planned, but it turned out that it was exactly what was needed. I knew the first time I stared into that little dimpled smile that my world had shifted for the better.

The next 15 years were whirlwind of sports, food, toys, more food, arguments, and more food. He’s broken my heart, been my best friend, my biggest pain, and always will be one of my best reasons for living. Words fail to describe just how proud I am of the little rat, though I won’t tell him that. He thinks too much of himself already.

I know everyone has seen The Blind Side. Well, the only thing he has in common with that is he’s got a mama that would do anything for him and he’s played that left tackle position since he first stumbled onto the gridiron at 9-years-old. At barely 15, he stands 5’10” and weighs in at a measly 195 pounds. He’s got arms like a gorilla and shoes big enough to go rafting in. He’s good . . . and he knows it.

The second milestone in my life was marrying my husband. Brandon was 4 when he came along. He’s strong, caring, and forgiving. He’s the kind of man that all the guys like and a woman can trust. (Not that he hasn’t tried me on that one, but then I’ve tried him pretty good too at times.) He’s someone you feel safe leaving your kids with. He’s someone you can’t send to the grocery store. You give him a list with ice and water on it, he’s going to forget the ice. No maybes about it. He does as good a job with the boys as any mama, but with more understanding of how boys think and despite the fact he still remains pretty much clueless when it comes to the workings of his wife’s mind.

His addition to our lives was smooth, almost like he’d been there all along. Not to say there weren’t problems and bumpy spots, because there were . . . lots of them . . . but we are perfect for each other. (No one else could put up with us.) Through him, Brandon learned to love hunting and fishing and I learned to share the remote. We taught him the joys of baseball and football and the dangers of opening saying anything anti-Astros even in jest. He went from being a bachelor with a bottle of catsup and a jug of water in his fridge to juice boxes and vegetables. A tough change, but he did fine. It was only after five years that we began thinking it was time for another of those life markers.

That moment of insanity brought us to the latest of the trio of my biggest moments . . . Colt. This child is as sweet as you can imagine. He’s got dancing blue eyes and a little dimple that pops up on one cheek if he’s really amused with something. He’s thoughtful, loving, and absolutely the most hard headed, aggravating, and rude little bugger I’ve ever met.

When he was born, I knew it would change us all. It marked the end of my childbearing years and started the transition from newly-wed and starting a family into raising our boys and moving towards an empty nest. We were ready for that. What we weren’t ready for was to spend the next three years trying to catch someone who went straight from sitting up to dead run and hasn’t stopped since. He gets up at 4 a.m. and goes until midnight most days; all at a sprint. We’ve learned to adapt, to team up, and to work in shifts so that someone always gets a little rest each day.

And he’s fast - oh, let me tell you he’s fast. I’ve seen him outrun my husband, his big brother, and several kids on the football team. We’ve chased him in the stores, through the yard, down the street, and around multiple football stadiums. If that wasn’t enough, the boy is strong. Snapped the clasp right off of the kiddie leash we bought in a desperate attempt to avoid being outrun yet again.

Brandon, hubby, and I are a team. We’re messy, cranky, boring, outrageous, tired, fun, and one of a kind. We love sports, food, friends, and family. We speak our minds. We fight. We cry. We laugh. We will stand together. We’re going to make it through this life and we’re taking everything we can from it; all while doing the one thing that binds us even more closely than blood and vows . . . chasing Colt.