Let the Games Begin!

On Saturday we spent time at the Highland Games, where Ab competed for the very first time in Highland Dance.  I am so very proud of her, because she did spectacularly well for her very first time! 

All of the tears and gnashing of teeth finally paid off with her dancing to three of the four dances in her category.  She hasn't learned the fourth yet, but hopefully soon!

She was beaming with pride and accomplishement as she was awarded a first place medal in the Scottish Lilt, her favorite dance.  There were only three girls in her age catagory, but to be honest, she did pretty well considering they were 15 and 16 years old!

Now, to the costume.  It was amazing.  Thanks to Daniel, his mom Aneta, and his sister Becky, they were able to outfit her in style.  Take a look at the vest!



 So, we got the patterns a little late and had to rush to make everything.  Unfortunately, the vest pattern was sent in the wrong size, and Daniel and Becky learned how to alter a pattern.  Two days of intense sewing and trying to get everything fitted correctly, six muslin mock-ups latter, that was the fantastic result.  I think she was one of the best dressed, but I'm biased that way!



We spent six hours in the sun, and basked in the whole experience.  I think her smile is worth it in the end:

A First and Third!  Way to Go!!!

Commitments

A couple of weeks ago, as we drove home from dance, Abbie and I had a long talk about commitments and the decisions she is making now, that will affect the rest of her life.

Dance has been a spot of contention among us.  I want her to dance, something I always dreamed about doing, but either never felt coordinated enough to pursue, or confident enough to attempt.  Abbie on the other hand, talks as though she wants to dance, and enjoys her lessons.  Practicing is something entirely different.  She abhors the structured time and I wonder if the fight is worth it.

She told me she was committed to dancing in a competition this summer.  I am a bit concerned, because to be ready, practicing will play an enormous role in the achievement of this commitment.  Will she make choices to attain her goal?  At this point, I hope and pray that she does.  Not just for my sake of seeing her in kilt and ghillies, dancing a lovely fling, but because at the same time she talked about the other commitments she has made in her life.

Abbie knows my expectations of her.  She knows good behavior from bad, and knows her limits.   I can't take all the credit.  She is an extraordinary child and has a good head on her shoulders.  Many family members and friends have made choices and she sees the consequences.  That right there is a teacher of some import.

From the time she was small, I would joke with her father, "Abbie won't date until she is 30!"  Partly for my own sanity, as well as to tease her.  She has taken up the mantra and committed not to date until she is 16, nor to have a boyfriend until then.  She spoke of these things lightly and I wasn't sure how they had sunk in, until a conversation we had, just last week.

There is a boy.  In her class at school, who told her she was looking pretty cute.  Oh my.  I'm not ready for this.  She asked me what she could tell him if he asked her to be his girlfriend.  All I had to say, "What are your commitments, Ab?"  She recited them, and asked me how to tell him nicely, they could just be friends.  I won't pretend that the conversation will not get harder as the years go on, but for now, I'm glad she knows what being committed to something means.

Her list is long.  I don't mind.  Every commitment is a good one, and one that will enable her to have a life that both she and I pray for.  She will not be burdened by undue hardships such as substance abuse, pre-marital sex and those consequences, or irrevocable body piercings or other bodily markings.  She will grow up and be mature and ready for the opportunities that come her way, unencumbered with the baggage these choices could bestow upon her.

I'm sure there will be times when these commitments will be tested and tried.  Boundaries will be pushed, but the choices have already been made.  There will never be the need to make them again if she sticks with what she had already decided.

A Bee in my Bonnet

This past week I've had several "bee in my bonnet" episodes.  It started with painting both of the bedrooms my children use.  First, they had to be shoveled out and fumigated.  I don't know how two young children can create so much garbage!  Of course the majority of it was paper.  I think our elementary school has single-handedly killed off a forest with the number of notes that come home.  But, after several days of sleeping in the family room, Abbie and Nigel have finally returned to their bedrooms.  Of course cleaner and better painted than before.  I am thrilled with how the rooms turned out, and both children are excited to have a sense of "owness" that wasn't there before.  I will not make too much of a commentary as to the wall of the bedrooms before.  Everyone has an individual style and I can't judge, but only say it wasn't mine.  I just feel badly about taking so long to get around to doing the job.

"Before" pictures only--will have "after" pictures later.

Next up, my sister-in-law Becky and I had a sewing weekend.  We accomplished quite a bit and completed 7 rag quilts with four more designed and ready to be sewn.  We make a pretty good team as she designs and I sew.  Hopefully she can sell them and we can get more done soon!

Lastly, today I decided it was time to change up the ol' blog.  I tried my hand at designing a header and what-not.  I'm not sure I like it, but thought it was time for a change.  Perhaps it is just a learning experience that will morph into something else in time.

So much has happened over the past few weeks, as we rush to and fro, that time seems to drift between cracks in my sanity.  The next thing I will know, the school year will be done, summer time activities will be in full swing, and I will be wondering where January went.  At least one thing is for certain, I accomplished quite a bit during the month, even if my dishes don't get done!

It's Snowing

It is snowing today, although it did start out as rain.  I think that fall is turning into winter quickly, and I'm not sure I'm ready.  We did get Nige a new coat over the weekend, as he is growing by leaps and bounds.  Just in the nick of time, I'd say.  I've been watching the flakes fall outside my office window, with my space heater cranked up to dry my tootsies.

While we are embarking on the Holiday season of Thanks and Giving, I thought I would share our Halloween memories from this year. Another wet day, but it was fun nonetheless.  My Indy and mad scientist had a blast, until they were too wet to keep going.

Nigel as Indiana Jones

They are getting too big!

All the ratting and spraying of her hair was a chore.  It was awesome for about 20 minutes though.

Abbie and her science experiment and Nige freaking out about a possible explosion.

As we continue in our crazy, out of control life, my days flow into one another, and before I know it, Christmas will have come and gone.  Oh to slow the hands of the clock and enjoy the moments before they are gone forever.

It's Unlawful to Feed Alligators

The best sign of the trip!

There are days when something will spur a memory.  It could be a smell, a sight, an address, a song.  The list goes on and on.  Perhaps it is the sight of a burnished autumn leaf, gently falling to the ground against the brilliant blue of the sky that takes you back to time when piles of leaves beckoned to be jumped in.

It hit me today as I opened a fax at work.  It came from Fort Benning in Georgia and I was suddenly transported back to a trip my family took in September of 2007.  It was the first plane ride for my youngest, and probably the first my daughter will remember.  The air was humid, hot, and we were tired from the red eye.  Something as small as the address on a fax cover sheet had the power to bring back delightful memories and twinges of sadness for me, of a trip we took years ago.

This is Nigel's reaction when the plane started to take off!

Abbie is old hat at this!

There is a certain smell, chemical in nature that hits me occasionally reminding me of time spent in cold concrete houses, space heaters, and thick wool sweaters. The smell comes from propane tanks, and though here, more than a decade later, I rarely smell it in my everyday existence, I will find my memories taking me to a mildewed heaven where I learned more about myself than at any other time in my life.  I will taste ravioli and white sauce, a milenesa breaded to perfection and my soul years for those dear friends I have lost touch with over the years, all because of a smell.

A song from the late ‘80s, early 90’s will strike discord in my heart.  It reminds me of times when choices and associations weren’t always the best and I wonder how I made it through largely unscathed.  Other songs bring with them nights of giggles, shopping cart races, band trips, and newspaper parties.

When Daniel and I married, the reception center was interested in a sensory experience.  Fresh flowers adorned the tables, with lavender and tiny orchids to evoke a scent that would remind those in attendance of our nuptials when those scents wafted to their noses in the months that followed.  I don’t know how well it worked for those well wishers, but for me, I see lavender and I smile.  I want to grow bushes of lavender in my yard because it reminds me of love, or at least the day when I felt as though I could burst with it.

We are a sensory people.  We like to touch, smell, taste, hear.  The sight of freshly fallen snow and the aching quiet that seems to echo along the street are sensations I look forward to ever winter.  The twinkle of Christmas lights against the black night, or orange gourds and autumnal leaves are sure signs of an impending holiday.  Add to that, the scent of freshly baked pumpkin pie, or the steam rising off a batch of rolls, and my stomach starts to grumble at the thought of a Thanksgiving feast to match all my wildest fantasies.

My children take after their father.  They are touchy people, snuggling, kissing, hugging, touching.  They aren’t quite as happy as they could be unless they are touching someone.  Last night, my little guy came into my room, crawled in bed with me and stuck his cold feet on my legs.  When I asked why he wasn’t ensconced in his own bed, I could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “You’re warmer!”  I became a mommy sandwich for a bit, touched on both sides and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Where would we be without our sensory memories?  I am sure I would forget a few of those friends, or moments in my life if there weren’t something there to job me to a certain place and time.  Perhaps tomorrow, I will see the address of someone who will transport me back to Uruguay, or a candle that will indeed spark the holiday season in my heart.  I can’t wait!

A Stitch in Time

Accomplishment.  That is exactly what I saw on the face of my daughter as I watched her struggle and then master and perfect a skill that she had wanted to learn for some time.  As her eyes looked into mine and I could see her joy, I was humbled to know that a hobby I enjoyed was bringing some joy to her as well; she wanted to be like me.
 
My maternal grandmother was a master.  Her stitches were even and small, amazing creations seemed to flow effortlessly from between her hook and fingers.  Round by round or row by row, the chains and loops would emerge: a doily, an afghan, a lacy basket.  My own mother recalled to me how Grandma would starch and block the doilies, with heavy pins, on an old towel to create the perfect addition to a table or bookshelf.  She would pull and smooth until everything was just right.

She never passed on her talent to my mother.  I’m not sure why.  Perhaps she was stingy with something she regarded as her ‘own’ and it wasn’t to be shared with anyone else.  I think it was a travesty, myself.  Just as her famous dinner roll recipes was lost, so are the patterns housed in the vastness of her mind.  What I would give to have some of those treasures, the dinner rolls especially, to pass on to my own children!

For weeks now, Abbie has been pestering me about teaching her to crochet.  I taught myself, mostly, but my paternal grandmother taught me how to single chain, and then to create a double crochet to make cotton yarn washcloths.  It was a pleasure to sit at her side and learn something, knowledge passing from one generation to another.  From there, I went through books, teaching myself a stitch here or there, and to read a pattern.  I started with the thicker yarn, making a hat, a scarf, a shawl.  I slowly graduated to crochet thread, going around the blankets and burp clothes that were hemstitched, and eventually started the more complicated designs.

A few days ago, I taught Abbie how to make a chain, and she spent hours making various lengths of chained yarn, weaving in between stuffed animals and across her lap.  She would unravel the yarn and start again, over and over, trying to perfect it.  She tried to do a single crochet stitch, but grew frustrated and didn’t want to continue, thinking it was too hard to do.  Like anything else, it takes practice, and a lot of patience, something a pre-teen sometimes is lacking.  After some frustration, on my part and hers, and continued pestering, Abbie learned to crochet around a burp cloth yesterday.  The stitches were uneven and bumpy at the beginning.  After a few inches, they became tight and steady.  Soon, she was slowly making exceptional progress and beamed at the accomplishment.  She asked me if I was proud of her.  I almost cried as I said yes.  I need to tell her that more often, because she is amazing.

I imagine the future, with Abbie, teaching her child how to knit and crochet.  They will sit on the couch as we did; hooks and yarn intermingling with laughs and smiles.  One skill learned from her maternal grandmother, and one learned from me.  I can envision the scarf or doily that is created by her own hands, gracing the neck or bookshelf of someone she loves.  She may sew like my mother in law, or she may want to pick up the pen like me.  Perhaps her skill set includes the love of numbers, from both grandfathers, and the intricacies of computer hardware like her dad.  I can see her foraging her own way and finding talents and skills so far untapped by her progenitors.    I can’t wait.

I survived, barely.

I'm not quite sure how I did it, but somehow I survived the Saturday chaos of Abbie's birthday party.  As the day wore on, I wore out, but the energy of 18 girls, some with imaginations, some with little interest in anything other than being entertained was a sight to behold.  I don't know if the party could be called a success or not, but I'm glad that it is over.  Abbie made out like a bandit, partly from my own negligence in forgetting to say "no gifts" on the invitations.  She loved it though.

How does one get to this point of acquiescing to throw a party for this many girls?  I don't know.  The things we do for those we love.

Now if I can avoid having that many boys for Nigel, I will be very happy.  He is now interested in having a party of his own.  I think one every 5 years is plenty, at least for this mommy!!!

Sometimes it shocks me....

I tried to upload this post yesterday, but Blogger wouldn't cooperate....

I'm a MOM!  Yesterday was Abbie's ninth birthday, and it took me back to the day she was born and the amazing event that it was.  I don't have any digital pictures of that time, because I didn't have a digital camera then, but here is my darling girl now:

I can't believe how fast the time has gone.  Wasn't it just yesterday that I held her in my arms? We are so lucky that she is part of our family.  She brings us such joy!  Now if I can only survive the birthday party with 20 girls!  (I guess I'm hoping that some don't show up!!)

Happy Birthday Abbie!!!

Out of the dregs of sorrow comes.....my children!

These two little darlings can get anyone out of the doldrums.  I started scrapping Sunday night, after my post, and this made me feel a whole lot better about life.  Here are two beings that are straight from our Heavenly Father, vibrant and full of hope.  Although there are days when I get frustrated with the breakdowns at Wal-Mart (tonight) it always seems that they can turn my frown upside down!  (Primary songs are always appropriate ways to express feelings!)

Here are a couple of pages I've been doing.  As always, I suck at credits, so be assured that I used a digital template and kits, not of my own creation, but of someone much more computer savvy than I am!!!

Abbie at her piano recital on December 18, 2008 at the Layton Library Auditorium.  She played really well!

A couple of Christmas pics of gifts.  Look at Nigel cheesing it up with his Red Robot.  He calls him "Red Clawson"!

Of course the traditional Christmas Jammies!  What family doesn't do this, I wonder.  Oh, that's right, mine didn't when I was growing up...so why do I do it now?  Beats me! :)

Abbie and her games.  She is a game fanatic!

I have more photos to scrap, but this is what I had done.  I'm just so lucky to have kids like this, who are so good.  I certainly do love them!!!

Working on the blog

I thought it was time for a new look for my blog.  I found that by changing the width, I have a lot more room for my posts and it just doesn't look as cluttered.  Whoo hoo!  We'll see how it goes.

I have scrapped my photos from Halloween and thought that I would share.  I am so proud of Daniel's prowess in the sewing field.  The kid's looked fantastic and loved their costumes.  What little darlings!