8th Grade Graduation

So, I don't remember having a Graduation ceremony before...you know...ACTUAL high school Graduation.  We just didn't do those sorts of things "back-in-the-day."  But my own kids? Yeah, they learned to zip up their coat in pre-school and they "graduated" to the zipper-upper line.

It started with Pre-K Graduation, then Kindergarten Graduation, then 6th grade Graduation....

Now I'm not saying it isn't a wonderful thing to sit an a newly remodeled auditiorium, which nobody thought to install an air-conditioner or de-humidifier in...it's simply lovely.  I do it for every recital and choral concert of the year. 

I just can't help but wonder how much of it is for real. It seems like a political move by the school staff. Lining them all up on stage in front of us...the new Interim Superintendant giving a big old speech...the Vice Principal (closely followed by the Interim Superintendant) keeping his legs crossed so long the kids beside me started timing it and wondering if he'd be able to stand up without cramping when it was his turn. Babies crying, people clapping before the end when the Principal specifically said not to....It often makes me wonder what the heck we're really all doing there.

They give out a "best boy" and "best girl" award at the 8th grade Graduation.  I have to wonder how that works exactly. How exactly do they determine who is best? Grades? Personality?  What???  Because as I watched the kids all cross the stage (except for the 30 students who have to attend summer school to pass the year) I was proud of them all. Middle school is tough.  I'm sure each one of those kids had someone in the audiance who thought they were the best.  I know my kid did.  

After all the hoopla is complete, a Graduation Ceremony is a great excuse for ice cream after the event is finished. And for some new clothes and shoes, which can later be worn to funerals and weddings. Planning ahead for these potential future events is a good reason to buy the clothes a size large and try to see them as investments, though the truth is my Grow-A-Kid usually only wears the outfit just that once. As a rule of thumb, I've trained myself to consider these things the "bright side" even if I'm likely deluding myself.

As the stage-crossing ceremony commenced I found myself squinting at the kids as their names were called, imagining their faces as I remember them in my heart.  Remembering...the kids in my groups when I chaparoned for the Space Center, and the Oliver House Museum, and even the Punkin' Patch and the Easter Egg Hunts.  Remembering their soccer games and lacrosse games...and even what some of their parents looked like back when we were all in lamaze class. Tonight, these kids looked so grown up. So much like high schoolers.  Where did the little Kindergarteners with their little mini cap and gowns go?

Everybody kept saying how time had flown, how fast they had grown up.  And they really really have.  Watching my 14 year old son swaggar across stage felt like a surprise all of the sudden.  Somehow, the "I want peanut butter and jelly with no holes in the bread" days flew by, flew into these "Mom, she's not my girlfriend...just a friend who's a girl I SWEAR" days (as the phone rings at midnight). 

For me, having kid has been something like when you adopt a kitten. You love playing with the little bugger, you adore it to pieces and you know it's inevitable that it'll grow up...but as it chases string and lets you smother it in kisses...you can't imagine it in a shirt and tie...crossing a stage...shaking hands and graduating....I mean you can't imagine it as a full grown cat.

Yeah, I don't remember having all of these graduations when I was a kid. We didn't have them. We say...that times are faster now. That the computer era has changed us for the worse. We say that things are faster now and everyone is in a hurry.  Yet, here we are...listening to the Interim Superintendant tell us how great our town is, and waiting to see our kids cross a stage and become high schoolers. 

We're all slowing down as a community, to create an event to celebrate our kids and how amazing it is that they're all heading into a new phase of their lives. And this process is something a part of this new generation. 

Somehow, sitting in the nose-bleed seats and inhaling the world's most humid air while listening to the kids next to me (who happened to be my daughters) snicker at the Vice Principal...I realized, some changes are for the better. And hey, our generation may actually have something figured out, that our parent's didn't.

Sew What!

I’ve been crafting. 

For like a week and a half solid.  The skin on my fingertips has worn off.  What this means is that while I’m hunchbacked in a corner, over a sewing machine, my troll family is destructifying the rest of the house.  Also, like the greenhouse effect, my own mess has come back to bite me.

• There is Essentially oiled Buckwheat strewn from one end of the house to the other.
• Scraps of fabric and bitty little pieces have migrated. Even into the refrigerator.
• The only clean glasses we have left are martini.
• The cat got locked in a bedroom all day and I didn’t notice till’ I opened the door.
• I’ve lived in pajamas till’ the kids came home from school for 6 school days.
• Not one telephone handset has been cradled, i.e. 4 dead phones.
• The puppy has resorted to eating paper towels because there’s no TP left to chew.
• My wood floors look like a barn floor.  Even a battery powered swifter won’t cut through it.
• Further proof that I’ve lost it: After listening to Chickadee (age 10) describe how her BFF freezes live mice to feed to her snake, I felt sorry for a white mouse at Petco ($2.75).  Brought her home and put her up in a fish tank we got for Christmas two years ago.  I named her Ruby the Christmas Mouse because of her beady red eyes.

In the midst of all of this I have put up one Christmas tree, hand crafted gifts for DH’s entire extended family, my own Mama, Sissies, Brother’s GF, and Dear Friends.  Even for my Favorite Neighbor who trained me to be a professional housekeeper (if she stopped by today I would tell her we all had H1N1 pig disease and I wouldn’t let her in to see the sty).  And Last Night I stayed up till 4am making something special for my DH.  And I’ve knitted gifts in the Mini-Storage on every trip we’ve taken.

Tonight we are baking chocolate chip cookies for the kids classes and I think we’ll make some sugar cookie dough to chill (if I can wash enough spoons to stir with and find a spatula Brody the Acrobatic Shiba Inu hasn’t chewed up).

This is the first year I haven’t been working full time during the Christmas Season in 6 years.  As I was Googling “get motivated to clean” it hit me, I’m really happy. Even in the midst of all this chaos.  Even in the midst of feeling guilty that my house was cleaner when I worked full time!  As my mom would say, “I’m happy as a pig in S*%$!”

My husband says that we make ourselves happy. “Happiness is something we choose to have, we have to find it for ourselves.”  His MLC has really brought him back to being the guy he was in his 20’s.  I really like that.  His attitude has helped me become more aware of the things that make ME happy (like crafting, and making him a healthy lunch to take to work every night)  Even when I’m tangling with this depression thing, and insecurity about my own impending continuing education.

So, today as I soak the dishes, clean up my own mouse poop, pull the buckwheat clog out of the vacuum cleaner, attempt to locate phone handsets, and consider ways to bribe the children to clean the floor on their hands and knees (hey, my back is still healing!), I’m going to revel in the fact that I’m happy not in spite of these things, but because of them.  This is my crazy life and I’m choosing to embrace my chaos/happiness.

(I will add pics when River Child gives me back my thumb drive. My camera cord went kaput, long story).

Best wishes,

RebeccaFlys     

Bringing home Brodylicious!

I lost my sheltie dog this spring and have been beyond lost myself.

My husband decided to take me looking for the farmer who bred my "working" size shelty 10 years ago. After seeing several shelty breeders (families of menonites), and their pups who were super small for the breed I was ready to give up.

At our last stop we were sent to on a search through a saw mill to see a sheltie they were willing to give away. The dog ended up to be very shy and unwilling to approach us at all. After DH saw a door open to a barn and asked what dogs they had there, we realized we were at what was essentially a small, very clean, puppy mill which was shutting down.

At that point we were offered a 3 year old male and female corgie, another breeding set of small dogs, (and the sheltie if we could catch her). We were in shock. I wanted to save them all, but didn't know what to do. I had no dog kennels and three kids in the mini-storage. I couldn't put an adult dog that had apparently always lived in a cage in my van with my kids.


The "farmer" said he had 2 pups, we could have one. I had NEVER even heard of a shibu inu until one was handed to me. I tried to convince him to give me the male in my arms (who I knew I would NEVER hand back. The little guy was shivering and hiding his face in my armpit) and the female he held. My husband knows me, and is an animal lover too, so he knew I would try to take all the dogs the guy would give me that I thought I could save. (We have a great no-kill shelter and I knew they would help us out.) But the guy got wierd, I put on a good show and walked right out with "my" puppy.

We were given his shot records, his pedigree, and him. I had NO intention to keep him. I wanted another sheltie, but somehow the little bugger grew on me.

I have another mixed breed at home who we adopted from a co-worker of mine, a small jack/german shepherd mix. And after two weeks and a lot of breed research, I decided we might be a good match for the little Shiba. He is so gregarious and sweet, and never slows down (perfect for me to walk with!).

I really wanted another shelty, because, well my BFF was a shelty. And with 10, 12, & 14 year old kids, I know this dog will be my companion as they leave home. My husband works nights, so I like the dogs to sleep with me. Since our other dog lives and breathes for my husband, putting up with me only when his highness is not present, this fella will be my heart. Somehow, when he stuck his little nose into my zip up hoodie, and hid from the barking craziness in that little room full of cages and barking dogs, he gained my protection. Then, as he has charmed my heart, I've grown to really like him for him. I know he may grow up to be far more independant than my sheltie Riley, who was always by my side, and spoke to me without speaking.

I wasn't out searching for this little guy, but here he is! Maybe it was meant to be, because maybe another sheltie would never have measured up to my Riley guy. I entered a photo of my pup in a calendar contest for Shiba Inu pups and won! Our little find is a June Shiba Inu model --->check it out you know you want to!

After our first joyous walk in the creek, I named him Brody, which is Celtic for little muddy place. My pets are like family to me. I didn't realize how lonely I was without Riley until I woke up to a wet nose on my cheek again. It was then that I knew I really love Brody. He's my little dog guy.

Pets can come into your heart and be family if you let them. And Family often finds us when we least expect them and when we most need them.

Welcome Brody,

Best wishes,
RebeccaFlys

Holly Jolly Christmas Count Down

Well, the turkey carcass is in the can and waiting at the curb. MIL showed up at my house, on my first T-Day at home, with her catalogs to gather ideas for her Black Friday Reconnaissance. As my children reveled in commercialism, and Christmas hunting and gathering, rather than the family card game I had planned, I watched a recorded episode of "House" (The one where he threw out the Christmas decorations and threw a Secret Santa, for his staff, that only included his own name.)

House's grinchy cynicism was working it for me. It reminded me of a little bit of Christmas "poetry" I attempted a few years back. Soooo, I went to my Myspace and pulled it off to share with my dear friends (that's anyone willing to suffer through reading the drivel I pour out after consuming large quantities of coffee, wine, and/or vodka.)

Christmas Days

The day's nearly here, the time's nearly come, like last year and last year back past 2001

But something is changing,

The scraggaly crushed mushed up lists are all gone,

covered with dog hair and cheezits and gum.

Instead, in their place, with neat cursive writing,

New letters to Mom & Dad (who was that guy Santa?)

The times are a' changing the children aren't begging

It's now organized, well timed, thought out,

plain old pleading.

And under the tree, (and in Daddy's wallet)

oh the changes we'll see...

From Barbies and airplanes to Wii's and I Pods

From pink fluffy slippers to Aero ensamble

From $2 make-up to spa days and haircuts

It's all enough to make Dad just sick in his gut.

The gifts are all smaller

The wrapping is less

But not all is changing....

We don't love them less

and I in my Martini and Dad in his cups

Will pay January's bills with the usual stress.

and look forward to next Christmas

with the usual fuss.

Yessssss, I'm something of a Grinch. I guess the thing is, Christmas in "my day" was different. Life really was a little simpler. We stayed kids a little longer than our own will I think... We ideolized Laura Ingles Wilder, not ICarly (no mom and dad at home) or Hanna Montana (lying to the world). Our video games didn't save. You had to commit to beating Mario Brothers, I mean COMMIT. I remember my mom shutting it off after my Sis and I beat the game through and were part way through the second, harder version that came after. I still don't know why she did that (after we had played for 18 hrs straight) I mean we were SHARING after all.

In our time, boys had to put some effort into locating, reading and replacing dad's Playboys before being caught like miniature 007's, and girls had to secure and skim mom's romance novels always prepared with a good excuse if caught "I really liked her haircut on the cover, it's so pretty I thought Fantastic Sam's could copy it on me." Now kids just Google "big boobs" or "Cosmo sex stories" or "celebrity crotch shot images" and bam, there they are. And hell, my 10 year old knows how to clear the history on the computer.

We would air pop pop corn and RUN to watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Raindeer and other select holiday favorites which we had carefully noted on the calendar in order to be certain we would not miss them. My kids DVR what they want to see and they didn't know what an air-popper was until recently (I'll save that for another blog).

Methinks things are now too easy sometimes.

This Christmas, as I cringe at the impersonal gifts we spend hundreds of dollars on for our kids, and wish I could still pick out dollies and race cars, I will imagine them as parents. With any luck, technology will one day stump my little angels as they try to raise their own little angels. It's only fair. Oh, and I won't imagine them as the intensely cool parent I myself have turned out to be, but more along the lines of the goofy parent my own mom was... is.

And maybe I'll download some Little House Christmas Episodes to share with them.

The Christmas Countdown is on. Isn't that link so cool? Just click that and whammo, you are whisked away to a site that counts you down. Fantastic, I know.

Best wishes,

RebeccaFlys

Gucci or Once Again?

I’ve noticed there are a lot more people perusing my local church run thrift shop. Maybe it’s the economic slump driving penny pinchers in. At the same time, the pickings are pretty slim compared to just a year or so ago.

Lazy River, Chickadee and Double A saw fit to meet Auntie K there this morning with me. (You know you are country when the kids are so into getting out of the house they’ll go to the thrift shop.) When they were little, a trip there meant an adventure, and the acquisition of a “new” toy, or book. Now 14, 12, & 10, they will look around and pick through bins with me half heartedly, and if they actually find an item they want to bring home, they point it out like “hey, I don’t really want this but we’re here sooo….”

Double A is currently pissed at me for making him try on the BRAND NEW (looking) Levi’s I found (2 bucks!). You would think I just gave him a blanket infested with small pox germs.

I found a Gucci purse too. All purses are 50 cents. I didn’t buy it because I don’t need it, but I photographed it with my cell phone for you guys. A Mennonite lady was looking at me in confusion, but being an intrepid new blogger, I was all, “this is for my fans.” Check this thing out. The Once Again is where old Gucci’s go to die. The next time you pay $500 for a hand bag, I want you to imagine it hanging here in five or ten years! Can you guess which purse is the brand namer? (It's the black one on the right).

I also found a nifty book that is sure to cure ALL of my problems.

I bought a crock pot there last week $3. It’s kind of avocado green, it works like a charm, and I’m almost certain it’s safe and won’t burn my house down.

Digging through boxes of stuff and finding treasures is so fun. It’s like guilt free shopping. How can you feel bad when you hook yourself up with a bunch of kitschy Christmas stuff for on “bag sale” for $3? After all 9/10’ths of what I buy seems to be decimated by enthusiastic children, DH, pets, or even siblings (you know who you are) so these items kind of pay for themselves in the long run, and fulfill my need to create a holiday atmosphere.

Since I’m not working and currently relishing my life on unemployment (I did have SPINAL surgery this summer for Pete’s sake ~ resting and recovering is sooo nice) my income is limited and I’m thinking I’ll make home-made gifts for Christmas. It could be genius, or it could be disaster, I bought cute tins to pack gifts in, and ribbon to decorate them with ($3 bag sale!). So, except for the actual hand made gifts I’m good to go.

Lazy River selected some neat-o belts for 50 cents, which is cool because her current bid to go to the mall is somewhat out of my monetary radar at this time.

Chickadee didn’t find anything and she immediately slopped herself with Purell when we got in the mini-storage, but I think she had fun sifting through other people's old Stuff.

I really like the concept of re-purposing, and finding trash in treasure. I also like the idea that if my kids find themselves knee deep in some problem that leaves their cash flow low, they will know what to do. I know kids who’ve headed off to college thinking the only place to buy jeans is at Abercrombie and Fitch. They are the same people who will wind up in credit card debt before they are a quarter of a century old.

My first job out of high school was for Key Bank. It was a great place to work and I learned a lot from the ladies I worked with. I can remember Rosalie pointing out a lady and saying “watch this; she juggles credit and income like a clown on a tightrope.” My husband and I have no unsecured debt. No debt at all except for the Mini-Storage and the Lil’ yellow schoolhouse. If we purchase an item it’s with cash. I like that about us. I want my kids to grow up understanding that their credit is important to protect and finding joy in buying the occasional used belt, crock pot, decorations, Pyrex bake ware, or puppy kitten salt and pepper shaker set is a part of that.

Best wishes,

RebeccaFlys

On Home Improvement

After settling in to our first home (one with a mortgage and not a rent) I installed a small chandelier in my dining room.

I bought it at a going out of business sale and because it was a display model I had to wait while the salesman climbed up a ladder and unscrewed the whole mess. dust bunnies floated from the display rack as he completed the process.

I brought the dusty thing home at 80% off and buffed it up. It was missing the sconces. I bought replacements for about $10.

The internet is a beautiful thing to a woman with a lazy man in the house. I’ve learned to go on “thisoldhouse.com” for lessons on producing high quality home improvements on my own.

On Chandelier day, I printed out some directions, and after DH left for work and couldn't stop me, I began the installation. I shut off all of the breakers for the whole house, just to be safe. (It was years before I honestly believed one can shut off just the breaker to just the light one is wiring. In those days, I shut them all off for safety)

I paid my 11 year daughter $1.00 to stand on the dining room table holding up the fixture while my 9 year old son held the “deer spotlight” toward the ceiling and I wrapped wire in electrical tape, twisted on wire nuts and closed up the mess.

"We all walk in the dark and each of us must learn to turn on his or her own light." ~Earl Nightingale

I honestly have never been so proud of myself in my life. I felt like I moved a mountain on Chandelier Day. And all I had moved was one little light fixture from the floor in the dining room (where it had sat for over a month), to the ceiling.

I was jubilant.

The next day I put in a bathroom wall light. All women should do home projects like this. If you are the sort of woman who feels that such things are insurmountable projects, solved only by hiring someone, or calling in your man, trust me, you should DEFINATELY, tackle some sort of home improvement project. Of course, the man of my house couldn't understand why I was so proud of myself, commenting, "Anyone can install a light fixture, it's no big deal."

Oh, but it was. And didn't he know it.

Best wishes,

Rebecca Flys