30 and 85... A Celebration of Life

My Granny and I share our birthday month. We both hit milestones this year... For me it was the Big 3-0, while my dear sweet Granny celebrated her 85th.

I've learned many things from this precious woman, and I'm proud to be her Granddaughter.

1984-- Bedtime devotional time, when we would
sing many of Papa's old favorite hymnals.

Such fond memories fill my heart when I think of Granny: making biscuits from scratch at the crack of dawn; getting fresh sun-dried sheets off the clothes line; feeding Sandie and Annie doggie treats; taking long walks through the pasture, out to the old barn; the sweet country voices singing at her tiny little church; getting to pick which sugary cereals we wanted because she always bought the tiny combo packages of General Mills cereals, since we all liked different things; warm hugs that smell of fresh soap, lotion and vaseline; the softness of her face rubbing against my cheeks during hugs and kisses; playing dress-up in her old wedding gown, and picking flowers off of her beautiful bushes for our bouquets; delicious homemade birthday cakes.... just to name a few.

1984--Patiently, Granny always let us help
feed Papa through his tube.

My favorite memories are of Granny taking care of Papa, who became very ill shortly after my first birthday. He was diagnosed with ALS, also known as "Lou Gehrig's Disease." During the entire long and heart-wrenching progression of the disease, Granny never left Papa's side. Fully paralyzed, Papa was forced to rely on his 90lb bride, and ex-nurse. Granny moved him each and every morning from his side of the bed, to his favorite recliner in the living room, where he could look out at the view of their beautiful farm. She fed him a healthy liquid diet, that she mixed herself, through a tube that went directly to his stomach. I remember helping to pour his meals in that tube. Many times a day, Granny would "beat" Papa's back, sides and chest to make sure there was no fluid build-up in his lungs. We would all pile on the bed with the two of them, cup our hands the proper way, and drum along with Granny, in her rhythmic patterns.


During the long, hard years Papa struggled with this horrible disease, he never once suffered from a single bed sore. Recently, my Aunt Peggy, who is also a nurse, brought to all of our attention what a feat this was.

1981-- That's me in Papa's lap.  How much does that look like
Flash Flood?? And I love that Matt is rocking the
short shorts and knee-high striped socks.

1981-- Me (on the right) with one of my favorite cousins,
Jonathan, tearing up Granny's cabinets.
Again, that looks like Flash Flood in a dress!

This was back in the 80's and early 90's, so there was not as much confirmed research for ALS. At that time, people weren't sure of the brain activity for the victims this horrible disease had claimed. None the less, Granny still spoke to Papa constantly, as if he might sit up and answer her. She always had us come sit with him in his recliner, and would say to him, "Here's Holly! Tell him about your dance lessons, Holly." Now that we know he could hear and comprehend it all, it makes me that much prouder of my Granny, for making sure he was a part of all our lives. Even if he couldn't be active physically, he still knew us, and loved us very much. Before putting Papa to bed at night, we would all gather around in the living room and sing his old favorite hymnals, then Granny or my Daddy would read a devotional. Granny is who taught me all the words to "Oh, How I love Jesus."  And when she sang it, you knew she meant it.

  

Granny never ever left Papa's side. She was his main care-taker for almost 12 years, and kept a cheerful attitude through it all-- grateful for the time she had with him, never once complaining or asking for outside help. What an extraordinary example of unconditional love!

Even with all the stresses in her life, Granny never spoke harshly to us, though she certainly could/should have at times. All of us wild grandchildren might be jumping on the beds in the "kids room" and she would softly say, "I don't think your Mommas want y'all to do that."

She took care of their farm, because that's the place Papa loved and had wanted to live forever. It wasn't until Papa passed away, that she even considered selling their farm. When she did finally move to "town" she chose a quaint retirement neighborhood, so she could still live on her own, but around good friends and neighbors.

The Farmhouse, where if walls could talk, many of
my favorite childhood memories would be told.

Granny first dedicated her life to our Lord and Savior, and then to all those around her. Her outpouring of love to all who are fortunate enough to know her, resides in each of us. To know my Granny, is absolutely to love her. Her life is as pure an example of how to live for Jesus, and love Him, as any life could be.

So, as I turn 30, and reflect on all the things in my own life that I would like to change, and do better in the next 30 years, I am thankful to be surrounded by so many great role models. My parents, my siblings, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and dear friends. And mostly, my Godly Granny, who has lived her life simply to glorify God.

2001--My Wedding Day

I love you, Granny. And I'm so proud to call you MY Granny. Happy Birthday!

Love Always,

Your Favorite Granddaughter
(Okay, so maybe you can't say exactly which one of us IS your favorite, but this is my blog, so I'm naming myself. :) And knowing you like we do, I'm sure we all are truly your favorites. Because you're wonderful like that.)

2003-- Granny meets Her Highness, 
the first Great-Grandchild.

For posterity's sake... Because we all know I would never forsake posterity.

As my alarm buzzed obnoxiously, bright and early Tuesday morning, my hopes for an excuse not to send my babies out into the big wide world were squelched. Her Highness and Thunder both jumped out of bed and began chattering away. A self-proclaimed dream weaver, Thunder's first words out of his mouth were, "I had a good dream. I was at school and I kept saying to the kids in my class, 'Hi! I'm Thunder.' and then they would say back, 'Hi! You wanna be my friend??!' so I had LOTS of friends!" Laughing I told him that was the perfect dream, because with his bubbly personality, he'd be sure to have a roomful of friends by lunchtime.

Before heading out the door, we forced the obligatory first day pictures on our sweet little students.....

"One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just isn't the same...."

is the song that comes to mind for the following shot:

Growing up too fast.

We dropped off Her Highness first. Her school starts at 7:30. Insanity. Purely.
Her Highness LOVES her teacher, and has several buddies in her class. Our entire family walked her into the classroom, and I was pleased it didn't seem to embarrass her. I love in the following picture how her sweet teacher bent down to make sure and squeeze into the shot, so Her Highness did too....

Next stop was Thunder's school. I will admit, I did a good job keeping it all together until the point where I took the following picture. I was fine until I said, "Hey Buddy, smile for Mommy!" And looking at his young, little face made my eyes well up immediately. So, I did what any (in)sane mother would do, and I grabbed him as tightly as I could, so he couldn't see my face all teary-eyed, and whispered, "I love you and I'm so proud of you. Be a good friend and a good listener. I LOOOOVVVEE YOOOOUUUU!!!" Then, I RAN out the door. Bert stayed one more second, to give hugs and kisses, then met me in the hallway, where I was dripping snot and tears like a leaky faucet.

Sidetrack....Isn't Thunder's teacher cute?? After "Meet the Teacher Night," Her Highness was describing Mrs. Teacher to a my BFF, Lindy, and said, "She's really pretty. And soooo sweet. She's kinda old, 'cause she's taught kindergarten for 16 years. So, she's about the same age as you and my Momma!" I tried to explain that I was only FOURTEEN 16 years ago, but she wasn't buying it. "Yeah, okay. But I still think y'all are about the same age."

In an attempt to lift my spirits, we headed over to our favorite breakfast joint in town. While waiting on our order, I asked Lightning and Hail, "So, what do y'all think about it being just us now??" Lightning looked all around the restaurant, then with a concerned tone said, "Umm, Momma. Can't you see all dese other peoples in dis westawant??"


At pick-up time, Bert won husband of the year by leaving me asleep on the couch, with Lightning and Flash Flood, and taking Hail to pick up the school kids. Tapping my foot lightly, he whispered, "Babe, I'm going to get the kids." Never opening my eyes, I mumbled something like "Thanks." or "Whatever." (but I hope it was thanks, because I did appreciate it very much.)

A little while later Bert called and said, "Where's the pick-up tag?? There are signs that say they won't release your student without the pick-up tag displayed clearly in the window." (A pick-up tag is a security measure Thunder's school takes, to ensure all students get picked up by the right person, and not some crazy stalker.) Still sleepy, I agreed with the signs Bert had read and advised him to come back home and retrieve said tag. "Nah. They know me well enough. Surely they'll give him to me." I encouraged him again, to come home and get the stupid tag. We live all of 4 1/2 minutes from Thunder's school, so it really wouldn't have been too much of an ordeal. Bert, being a typical alpha male, couldn't stand the thought of losing his coveted spot in the hour long pick-up line, and stuck to his guns. Until the staff member stuck to her guns, and instructed him to make his way around to the front entrance of the school, where he would have to sign-out in the office.

Once Bert had Thunder in the car, he called me again. "Hey. I finally got him. But they did make me go around the building, and into the school office where I had to sign Thunder out. Isn't that ridiculous??"

"Nope."

"Do you know what I have on??"

"Nope." (I was ASLEEP, duh.)

"I had just gotten back from the gym."

(Bert always wears old t-shirts, with cut-off sleeves to work-out. Sexy, I know.)
I started laughing at the image I was getting.

"So, I'm all sweaty and stinky. Plus.... I'M BAREFOOT."

"Wait, what?? WHY ARE YOU BAREFOOT??"

"Well, I wasn't planning on getting out of the car! Do you have any idea how hot the pavement is today?? My feet are seriously burnt. And I had to carry Hail because he doesn't have shoes on either."

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAH! OOOOHHHHH! THAT'S TOO STINKIN' FUNNY! You HillBilly!! Why in the world would you leave the house BAREFOOT??? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What if the car broke down? Or you got into a wreck? Or ran out of gas... or..... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! So you walked all the way into the office, dressed like a total redneck, with your redneck baby??!!! Oh, me. My side hurts."

"Did you hear me?? I said my feet got burnt. For real. They hurt real bad."

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry. I'm just picturing you and Hail, with all those other parents and the office staff."

Thank-goodness it wasn't Her Highness' bustling school he was entering dressed like a HillBilly. She would probably have turned around and asked for someone to call her Mother instead.

Singed feet and all, Bert finally returned with my sweet students. Hail insisted on carrying Thunder's backpack and lunchbox, boldly stating, "I'm going wif him to kimbergarden tomowoe. Den I'm going to second gwade wast night." ("Last night" is past, present and future for Hail.)


Flash Flood's face tells exactly how I was feeling. Pretty much all day. Today has been better though. And as much as I hate to admit it, being on a real schedule is helpful. My house stays a little (very little) bit cleaner when school is in session. The laundry is still in a huge pile, but that can totally wait. It will still be there tomorrow.

These last pictures are for my Daddy. Thunder really wanted his Granddaddy to see his new do.
He told the stylist that he had been growing it out to look like "Justin Beeper." She winked at me, got to work, then put a little gel in the front, since "that's just how Justin Beeper does it." she said, winking a few more times my direction.

A Vow to NEVER Blink Again...

Tonight as I packed two lunches, I cried. And not a sweet, dainty cry, like you see in the movies, but more of a blubber.... Like you see me do while watching movies, such as Beaches or The Notebook. I'm hoping that getting my tears out tonight will make for a nearly tear-free drop off in the morning, when Thunder starts Kindergarten, and Her Highness moves right along to the 2nd grade.



I'm teary over Thunder's transition for the obvious reasons... Kindergarten is a big step for a Momma and her oldest son. Entrusting Thunder to the new women in his life, for six hours every single day, is going to be quite hard. Through tears, I made several jokes to Bert about things I might need to tell his teacher: "He doesn't really take naps anymore, but if you lay down next to him and gently scratch the palm of his hand, or his back, he may fall asleep... Also, if you see him standing alone in a corner, beat red in the face, please remind him that holding his poo-poo only makes it hurt, so he needs to take a break from playing and run to the potty.... Oh, and if he should fall asleep during nap time-- when he wakes up, he'll promptly ask for a cup of cold chocolate milk, and then he'll want you to hold him for about 10 minutes. After that he should be ready to rock!"

Bert and I laughed at our pretend conversations with Thunder's sweet teacher.
He's going to be just fine, I know. And he's ready. Ready for Kindergarten, ready to make new friends, ready for the break from his over-bearing Mother.... Ready for the world.

I get choked up about sending Her Highness back to school simply because I can't believe she's SEVEN YEARS OLD and now in the SECOND GRADE!!! I have very clear memories of being seven and in the second grade. My birthday party was at the roller skating rink, and I thought I was a hot-shot for being able to squat down when I rounded the corners of the rink, and stick my right leg out straight, while balancing on the other leg, which was bent. At school, my teacher was Mrs. Payne, and I loved sweeping her floor and dusting the erasers out on the giant rock behind her classroom. I loved reading the "Weekly Reader" on Fridays and filling out the quiz on the back. I loved having snack time at the same time my older brother had P.E. with Mrs. Magroo, and waving at him across the playground. I loved bossing my baby sisters around, who were at the time four years old, which meant they were finally old enough to play House. I also loved babying them, and dressing them each morning in clothes I had selected for them to wear myself. Before age seven, I have big memories, such as Christmas time and traumatic times such as my oldest brother breaking his arm, or my little sister having a seizure. But, the day to day memories don't kick in until age seven. That's why Her Highness turning seven and going into the second grade has struck such a cord in my heart.

So, tonight, as I squalled while jotting notes to stick in their lunch boxes, I thought of all the things I would really like to say, but my post-it with the quote "I'm sorry. You must be confusing me with the maid we don't have." couldn't hold.....

Dear Your Highness,
Right before my very eyes you are growing into a fair maiden. And in my opinion, the fairest in all the land. Your enthusiasm for life is contagious. You are a gift to me. I do not tell you enough how proud I am of you, and the wonderful big sister you are to your wild brothers. My patience often runs short with you, which isn't fair, since typically it's those same wild brothers who have used up every last ounce of my patience. For that, I sincerely apologize. You are my Little Momma, and I so appreciate all the love and care you share with this testosterone over-loaded family. You were the perfect first-born for us. A leader in every way.


I love how you start all your "critical" sentences with, "I'm not trying to be mean, but....." And I love even more how most of the constructive criticism you were trying to give wasn't mean at all. For example, you recently said, "Momma, I'm not trying to be mean but... I think this milk might be bad or something." And it was. And I love how your brothers pick up on all your latest lingo and try using it as well. Hearing Lightning say, "Momma, I'm not twyin' to be mean but... your breaf is stinky dis mornin'. It 'mells wike yucky coffee!" makes me laugh. (And then remember to brush my teeth.) I'm so proud to be your Momma. And just when I think I can't love you more, my heart makes room. Tonight, as I was tucking Thunder into bed, you heard me discussing the exciting things about Kindergarten with him, and wanted to come in and say goodnight. I asked if you had any advice you'd like to share, and then my heart melted as the following came out of your precious little mouth, beyond your years...

"Just remember, even if you tell us that you're not nervous, we know you are. And that's OKAY, 'cause everybody is nervous on the first day. You'll do GREAT!" Thunder sweetly whispered, "Thanks, sister." And I choked on the giant lump in my throat, as tears began stinging my eyes.

Memories of you at age three, whispering when I would tuck you in at night, "You are the best of me." Filled my heart and soul. So precious. We think you were trying to say, "You are the best!" but your sweet saying stuck, and has pinned a note with that quote on my heart permanently.

You are the Best. Daughter. Ever. I LOVE YOU!
And you are most definitely, the best of ME.


Dear Thunder,
You've been a Momma's boy from the very start. Thank-you for always forgiving me, when I fall short as a Mother. You are a leader in this house, where the wild things are, and often you find a way of calming The Storm, when even your parents can't. You have been a great example not only to your brothers and friends, but to me and Daddy as well. I love that you're a lover, not a fighter, and always want to see conflict resolution. It tickles me to hear you say, "Well, Lightning, if you'll share a toy with Hail, I'll share my batman with you." Watching you "read" to your younger siblings melts my heart as well. I find it hilarious that Lightning and Hail won't normally sit still while I'm reading, but they will sit still forever if you're the one telling the story.

I love that your imagination could rival that of J.K. Rowling. Your vivid stories of your best bud, Creek, have always kept us entertained. For many weeks I truly believed you, when you said Creek was a boy you had met at the Burger King playground. "I did meet my fwiend Cweek. And hims fwee wike me!" You would say, as you proudly held up three fingers. It wasn't until the stories of Creek grew darker, and his mother died by climbing to the top of a tree and falling out that I realized you were making the whole thing up. Humoring you, we all played along and learned many interesting things about Mr. Creek, who has been a part of our family now, for almost three years. That is, until recently when he moved away, and a part of my heart broke. Daddy was trying to excite you about all the fun to be had in Kindergarten and mentioned, "I wonder if Creek will be in your class." Nonchalantly, you said, "Creek moved away. And I don't ever imagine him at school. Not anymore." A part of my heart ached. Then broke. As if our invisible son had moved off to college, without even saying goodbye. I imagine that someday I'll look back on my memories with you, and feel the same... Suddenly, I will see you as this grown-man, who grew up in the blink of an eye. I'm sure my heart will ache then too. And break a little. But as long as you keep telling me, "I love you to the moon and back!" When I say "I sure do love you." then I'll let you grow up, because I know this world needs more men like YOU.

I am so proud of you. I know God has plans to do great things with you. And like your loving big sister said, "Even if you say you're not nervous, we know you are. And it's OKAY." I love you, buddy boy! Be brave. And ready for a ton of slobbery kisses the second you walk in the door... for the rest of your life. I'm one proud Momma, and just like in the book that I have never once been able to finish without tearing up, "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, MY baby you'll be."

Love Always,
The Momma

O Brother, Where Art Thou??

Flash Flood takes his Storm membership status quite seriously; making progress daily to impress the older Storm members, and further drive his sweet, loving Momma over the edge.
He simply cannot get enough of his big brothers' attention. Thunder and Lightning appreciate his cute attempts to play-- dropping all the toys they hand him, purposefully, just to watch them bend down and pick them up, time and time again. Flash Flood also parrots the dynamic duo's squeals from across the house. Thunder and Lightning can let out a "Oooo-eeeeeh!" which is immediately followed by Flash Flood's imitation, "Ooo-eeeh!"

Hail, on the other hand, is not so impressed by Flash Flood, nor his attempts at play. I must confess, I've turned my head a time or two, when Flash Flood has crawled over to Hail, (watching cartoons in the living room floor, oblivious to his surroundings) and with both hands grabbed Hail by the hair and yanked away. Payback, baby! Flash Flood has definitely earned it. When it happens, Flash Flood squeals with delight as Hail screeches, "Moooommmmaaaaa! Git dat stinky baby off meeeeeee!" And I do.... eventually.

Flash Flood dreams of the day he can join his band of brothers in the back yard. This is quite often the scene in our house, as Flash Flood searches for his favorite role models, while banging on the window and calling to them, "Da-da-da-da-da-da! Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga! Oooohhh! Ga-ga-ga-ga!"

His persistence is rewarded, as the older members of The Storm take a break from making mud pies to feed their enemies, "Darf-Bader and da Stom Truppers" to visit with their sweet baby Ewok....

Very mixed emotions well up inside, as I witness such sweet scenes. The adoration and love between these silly boys is so precious... Which scares the crap out of me for the future. Start praying for me, please.

Coming up on this episode of Hoarders....

I've admitted a time or two about my need for a team from Hoarders to make an appearance at my house.  Instead of crying as they rummage through our crapola, I would be cheering them on, "Faster!  Faster!  You can do it!  I bet you can pack more in those trash bags than that! Come on guys!!  Woo-hoo!"  How liberating.  But, since no one from A&E has knocked on my door just yet, nor has anyone answered my Help Wanted ad in the paper and sign in our front window, I'm still going at this crazy mess all by my lonesome.  I'm not complaining, I promise.   I'm just defending myself.....

As a Momma to five of the messiest children on the planet, and wife to a husband who is the trend setter for sloppy = cool, the only way to find balance and harmony has been to lower my standards.  In the words of Abraham Lincoln (tweaked just a bit):  I can keep all of the house clean some of the time.  And I can keep some of the house clean all of the time.  But, I absolutely CANNOT keep all of the house clean, all of the time.  So, if my bathrooms are clean, my kitchen is nasty.  If my bedroom is tidy, my living room is a mess.  If the back porch is swept and spider web free, the garage needs an overhaul.  If the garage is neat and organized, my car looks like a cheerio/spoiled sippy cup bomb exploded that was planted by toddler terrorists.  Which leads me to the following incident: 

We made a quick trip to my parents' house this weekend.  We love to plan our trips when other sibling will be there, so all of our kiddos can get as much cousin kissing in as possible.  During our time together our kids always beg to ride in each other's cars.  At one point over the weekend, my brother and sister-in-love drove my van, so that the appropriate car seats were being used for the cargo being towed.  My nephews got to ride in my van too.  I laughed as I drove their van home later, noticing their freshly vacuumed carpets and pleasant  scent.  Later, my five year old nephew said, "Aunt Holly, we got to ride in your van last night!  And it was really, really messy.  But that's okay.  My Mommy picked it up a little bit for you.  She got a whole bag of trash out just on the ride home!"

I laughed and said, "Well, your Mommy is the best!  I sure do appreciate her doing that for me."

And he goes, "Yeah.  You should try cleaning it out sometime!"

Thunder, who is leader of the bomb squad in my van, defended me, "Well, my Momma does got a lot of kids." 

Guess my indoors will stay a mess today, as I venture out to the driveway to "try cleaning it out." 

Sigh.

Wordless Wednesday-- Because sometimes words aren't even necessary.

Thoughts at time this picture was taken....

"I'm so rockin' this knock-off glamour shots thing!  I'm only 12, but I totally look 14!  Can't wait to pass these out to ALL my BFF's! My husband is going to LOVE this photo when we're old and gray. This is like AWESOME!!!"

Maybe I should lay off the Snicker's Icecream Bars.....

This weekend we had the honor of babysitting some dear, sweet friends of ours, while their Momma worked.  This brother/sister duet is always packed full of fun and energy when visiting our peanut gallery.  They keep us on our toes, as well as doubled over in stitches, with laughter. 

Upon arriving to our house, my precious sweet girl, and fellow Princess to Her Highness, "Her Majesty" came bouncing into the house, and ran over to hug me.  With our arms locked around each other, Her Majesty looked over at Flash Flood, eating in his high chair, and spoke of how much he had grown.  She then freed one of her arms, so that she could gently touch my belly, while commenting, "Dang, Mrs. Holly!  You just gonna keep on havin' them babies, ain't ya!"

Bert spewed water all over the counter while Her Highness erupted in laughter.  It was one of those cackling laughs too, where she couldn't hardly catch her breath afterwards.  I resisted the urge to run and lock myself in the bathroom for the afternoon... crying... and tried to laugh it off.  Her Highness couldn't let it stop there though.  She, being the proper princess that she is, had to make the socially awkward situation better for her fellow princess, and continued, "Yeah.  I know it does LOOK LIKE there's a baby in there, (touching my stomach the same way Her Majesty had) but, there's NOT! Bwahahahahahahahahahaha!"  She continued cackling, all the way to her royal chambers, where the two princesses played Barbies the rest of the afternoon. 

To console myself, I grabbed a Snicker's Icecream bar out of the fridge.  I smacked away on the delicacy, and pondered why in the world those princesses would think such obviously foolish thoughts.