The runaway

This morning as I descended the stairs I caught a glimpse of one of the dogs outside, in the (likely) single digits temperatures. The dog I saw was not the big springer spaniel that loves to romp and play in any type of weather, it was the little cocker that hates the snow and cold weather, avoiding it as much as he possibly can.  Knowing that all of Erin's family (at least the ones that were awake) had left for the morning, I was very surprised to find him needing to be let in.

As I let him in I noticed that he was covered in ice from his belly to the pads on his paws.  As you can imagine he was not comfortable.  I scooped him up and took him to the nearest tub for a warm rinse to release the ice from pulling on his fur and feet.  After I dried him off he promptly found a warm girl to snuggle with and a comfy chair to snooze in.

My first assumption was that as everyone was on their way out this morning, it had been forgotten, by all ,that he needed to be let in.  I learned later, that was not the case.  He ran away this morning.  He made the choice to head out into the snow and cold on a little adventure.  And since every awake caretaker had somewhere to be on time, they could not follow after him to force him to come home.  Hopefully he has learned a lesson.

I think we all can glean a little nugget of truth from his self-decided "adventure".  He gets plenty of opportunity to go on adventures. Safe ones, fun ones, ones that do not cause him pain (or alt least just a small amount of pain with a purpose)  Some even offer a benefit to others, and some to his health.  He is invited to go to Erin's in-laws for fun with other dogs and the in-law's total enjoyment and pampering of him.  He is invited to go on an adventure to the vet from time to time to keep him healthy, yes some discomfort is involved in this, but only enough that will help him live a long healthy life, and treats are always part of the deal.

Isn't it always a better adventure if we are invited to go on it, by God.  Sometimes I think we are scared we are missing out on some kind of fun, so we leave our warm, comfy, loving place to see what else it out there.  Usually we come back, hurting, wishing we had never gone there and done that, needing to be cleaned up and comforted.  He is always there with warmth, forgiveness, and comfort.  If we had just waited to be invited on an adventure we could have had a great time.  He will invite us, when we are ready.  But His adventures will have a purpose, to help others or maybe to teach us something.  His adventures may even hurt , but always for our ultimate good. 

It is good to know that even when you go on an adventure that you were not prepared for, or that you were not invited to go on, you can always go home.  He will always be waiting and hoping for you to come home.  He wants to comfort us and ready us for His plans.

I hate mornings

We are having some morning issues here in our supersized household.  It is a challenge getting all 5 males out of the house in time to make school and work on time each morning.  You would think (as I once did) that since there are 2 adults males and the other 3 are all over the age of a toddler, that if everyone sets their alarm and is efficient with their time, everything should work out fine.  I think that makes sense.  However that is not turning out to be the reality.

The reality is that W is hard of hearing so his alarm does not always wake him up. I end up getting up at a much earlier time than necessary (cause I don't have anywhere to be) just to wake him up and keep him moving. Since he has been designated to be the first (of the boys) in the shower, missing his cue means everyone is running late.  And it's not like he jumps right out of bed as soon as he realizes that he is running late either.  And neither of the other boys are concerned enough about being on time to jump ahead of him in the shower line to help keep things moving. 

The question is what do we do to fix it or at least make it better.  I am considering punishments for W for not getting up and out of the shower by his allotted time, and/or rewards for being especially efficient with his time in the morning.  Another option is, maybe W should not be the first one in the shower, since he is at a disadvantage with hearing his alarm, something to think about. 

But the question I am most troubled by is how to route out this total lack of concern for the fact that others are waiting for you to do what you need to do so they can do what they need to do.  I admit, I am , what some consider, overly concerned with the impact I have on others when they are waiting on me to do something or make a decision.  I hate that feeling.  I avoid it at almost any cost.  But a certain level of awareness and consideration for others is something I think everyone should have.

Share. Share. And Share Some More.

Growing up in separate households with an 8-year age gap meant we didn't have to really share our toys that much, much less a bathroom on school-day mornings. But roughly every other weekend we shared a dad.  Now, since his death thirteen years ago, we share memories and a little bit more.

One night during Christmas break College Dude called around 3 a.m.  While it is perfectly logical in our house of four adults and six kids who can reach a doorknob that someone is bound to get locked out, the effects of a call at that hour are shared.  Because that is how I found out about Dad.  Cara and I share that memory, living out the line that "The difference between being someone that bad things happen to or not can change with one phone call."  We both jumped out of our beds when College Dude called, meeting in the hallway in our jammies.  I diffused her worry quickly as I scuffed to the door, letting in a grateful young man.

Dad's died of a heart attack.  At work.  On a job site near DC.  None of us was near.  We really didn't see it coming.  He was 57.

So now we share his legacy.  Two outspoken sisters that keep our husbands equally shaking, maybe even spinning their heads.  If you really want to know where you stand, simply ask.  We'll tell you.  Hopefully in a nice way.

We also share his medical history.  Years before his death, Dad participated in a research study regarding cholesterol.  They LOVED him for his unique medical situation and they took care of him along the way.  I wonder now if the cholesterol meds Cara and I take are the result of Dad's participation in that research.  Now that she is here, I'm sure we'll share a cardiologist. 

The Reading gene - must be from Dad.  Our husbands marvel at the lack of household duties when there is a book to be read.  We literally buried Dad with a Tom Clancy novel.  It was in his hands, with his thumb in the middle of the book, like he was waiting for the funeral to be over so he could finish.  One of the first activities Cara and I went to this year was a book club.  We know it's in the genes, since there is more than a glimmer of it in all of our kids.  My library card is on the kitchen wall, accessible to all who live here.  It keeps busy with this crowd.

And the grief of losing a grandpa.  Dad died when College Dude was 5, Son A was still toddling with a pacifier.  Four remaining grands yet to be born.  He would have really enjoyed all their personalities, -- the stubborn ones, the ones who consider the bookstore an afternoon activity, the one who would have reminded him of Cara.  We share that loss and the wish that our children could have known Grandpa John, particularly as he grew more kind and sentimental in his last years.  He had mellowed into an ideal grandpa, but  . .

So perhaps we are making up for lost time.  Finally sharing a ZIP code, and now sharing our toys in the kitchen, nurturing what ever live doll needs attention, encouraging each other in the workout room.  We will also revel in the reading, fight heart disease and play nice, together.

"Honey, I don't think we are in Virginia anymore."

Winter has settled in here in Southwest Michigan.  It snows, usually, at least once, more likely 2-3 times a DAY.  And for my friends from the south, nothing stops, not mail, nor school, or even church activities..life goes on.  The grocery stores are not any busier than any normal day,  because it is a normal day.  I would love to say that the reason life goes on as normal is because the roads get cleared, well and often.  But I can't say that.  They are nowhere near clear enough to make this southern girl happy. 

I am very proud of myself though.  I am becoming more and more skilled at driving in the snow.  Yes! You really can drive in it.  You don't have to sit home and just watch it come down, as pretty as it may be. You just have to drive really slow. And you must pay very good attention to what every other driver is doing. And whatever you do.....never ever stop as you are going up a hill.  Although my front wheel drive van is not the best choice for snow driving it seems to be getting the job done, and I am learning where the limits of it's ability are.  Our goal is to have one 4 wheel drive vehicle by next winter.

Oh!  And one more thing that goes on as normal , snow or not, is building of houses!  We signed a contract and they are digging the foundation/basement on Monday.  We should be able to move in sometime the beginning of July. 

So you see this blog will not go on forever.

Our Combo Christmas

You might think that because we are sisters that we have spent lots of holidays together.  You would be wrong.  Because of the differing layers in our extended families, basic geography and the fact that our expectations are pretty low, we've spent very few holidays together.  As in a handful of all the holidays in the past two decades.

With Cara relocating her family here - Yippee -- we had our first combo Christmas since the year she happened to be in town for a wedding, back when I had two kids and she had none. So here's how the first combo Christmas panned out . . .

Christmas Eve.  One family headed to church, then dinner at in-laws.  The other to Indiana grandma for dinner.  The original Michigan family has a tradition of Santa making two visits.  The first is during church, when one package (always new pj's) per kid is left at the hearth.  The other Santa visit occurs while we're sleeping. With six kids in the house now, Santa doubled his early drop off.  The tradition started to ensure the kids looked decent the following morning since pictures were often a big part of the celebration.  As the pictures became less important through the years, the pj's still continue. 

Pending the merge, we assumed (silly us) that Cara's early rising, Santa-believing crew members would take the 7 a.m. session around the tree Christmas Day.  We therefore assumed my teenage boy, sleeping in crowd would take the brunchtime slot at the tree. 

But in rare teen boy form, college dude, in his new pj's, can't contain his excitement.  Son P is ready to join the early crowd.  Only Son A had to be dragged from bed where he left his Christmas cheer under his pillow instead of bringing it along.  Six stocking contents were dumped.  Paper and packaging carpeted the floor.  The dogs were happy to have double the amount of stuff to sniff. The adults had their coffee and the first combo Christmas was celebrated and over.

(How odd, though that Santa wraps the presents for one family and not the other.  Cara's Santa does not wrap.  But he does assemble! so toys are ready for play.  My family's Santa wraps, mysteriously using the same paper I use.)

Pancake breakfast was started and one Grandma arrived to continue the spoiling of all 6 kids.  Then one family headed to Florida while the other house sat.  Isn't that convenient.