I was conceived, and the boy-child God chose to be my father made his own choice. He left. Discarded. Leaving my mother, barely more than a girl, to be both mother and father, nurturer and provider. Once in my growing years and twice in my grown years, I implored him to accept me, acknowledge me. I was told that he did not need a reminder of his sinful past. Despised.
There was a "Dad" in my world for a short hiccup in time. At least that was the name I called him. But a name does not a father make. My childhood memories of him are laced with the lingering sting of disappointment. Unloved. As a woman-child with baby growing inside, I pleaded with him to love me more than he loved his whiskey. That baby, now 12, knows nothing of this man I once called "Dad."Unwanted.
I was a teenager, and he tried to be "Dad." But in my heart I knew the truth about men. He would leave me, too. He didn't have a chance. Rather than risk more heartbreak and rejection, I turned away first. He gained the disdainful title of "step-dad" and his efforts were met with sneers and defiance. I already bore the names Discarded, Despised, Unloved, and Unwanted; I would not take the name Rejected. Instead, I gave it to him.
Time passed, life's pages turned. In the irony of this world, I chose a man who was destined to leave me. We started out a mess, did everything backwards and upside-down, we believed differently and lived as polar opposites. He didn't leave, and today he is Dad with a capital "D" and husband with a capital "L-O-V-E." But that is a story in its own right.
Time passed, life's pages turned, and he (the "step-dad") remained. I was a broken and bitter orphan, and his mistakes were repeated assurance to me that he would leave. But he did not leave. Though I named him Rejected and even Hated at times, he remained, he endured, he waited, he loved.
In my children, as all good grandparents do, he grasped onto the opportunity to rewrite his mistakes. He has laid on the floor smiling and chatting with each of my babes. He has driven remote control cars, put on pretend make-up, danced in the living room, built bird houses and sandboxes, cuddled, and wrestled. In those twelve years of seeing him be Grandpa to my brood, I watched and realized two things:
1. He will not leave me. 2. He isDad.
I wasted many years keeping my distance, not trusting, being afraid. But the Lord is true to His Word, and He says, "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten." (Joel 2:25) A swarm of locusts came in and devoured my trust in men, yet God gave me Step-Dad to restore that devastation.
For those of us left orphaned, God is Father to the Fatherless. (Psalm 68:5) We can (and along the way I did) find our strength, love, and hope in His paternity. He renames us: Indispensable, Esteemed, Loved, Wanted, Accepted. But every now and then, He sees us in our hopeless state and determines to go to great lengths to show His love. In my case, He did that by giving me the desire of my broken heart - an earthly Dad.
While I may still call him Lee, his very name writes the word "Father" on my heart. He chose to be the Dad he didn't have to be.
Pat and I don't "do" Valentine's Day. We came to the agreement a few years ago that it seemed foolish to make a big deal about a random day. (Don't worry, we still buy heart-shaped candy for the kids and make heart-shaped grilled cheese sandwiches. They're not deprived.) At some point in our relationship, though, we both realized that we are not the kind of people who are big on showy displays as a means for demonstrating our love and affection.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good gift! I melt for a special date that has been all planned out (right down to the childcare) by my love. But to insist that it needs to happen on a particular day in February seems like a waste of time and effort. And money. I mean, we just did Christmas for seven, then my birthday!
That being said, there was a time that these types of traditions and trappings were very important to me. The amount of effort a boy would put into planning out a special Valentine's surprise was a clear indication of his love and devotion. Wasn't it? For fun, I am going to share the tale of my worst Valentine's day ever.
I was just out of high school, dating a guy who I was thinking might be "the one" (who was I kidding, every guy I ever met between the ages of 12 and 18 was measured against my list of criteria). We had been dating about four months, and I just knew that he would have something special up his sleeve for me.
It was not a good sign when, at 4pm on Valentine's day, he asked me where I would like to go for dinner. In my most sugary-sweet voice, I suggested that we should probably go to whichever restaurant he had made reservations at two weeks ago (when I not-so-subtly reminded him of the upcoming day of love). He assured me that he had an infallible plan, and I should just go get dolled-up and ready to go.
He picked me up an hour later, and we proceeded to drive, stopping at each and every restaurant in our path. For two hours I endured the torture of his impromptu plan. Eventually, he accepted the inevitable - we would not get in to a restaurant on this particular evening. I was right and he was wrong (story of my life, ask Pat).
His next grand plan, "Why don't we just go hang out at the bar?" I suggested that the fool drop me off there, where I would spend the remainder of my Valentine's evening waiting to meet my new boyfriend - one who would love me enough to plan ahead for special days! (All the nice guys are found in the bars, right?)
Our break-up came close on the heels of this ill-fated Valentine's date. Now, I'm not saying that I am the kind of girl who just dumped boys willy-nilly on the basis of shallow things such as forgetting to plan ahead. But, we did break up. I'm just sayin'.
Anyone else got a great (terrible) Valentine's story? If not, I am willing to accept submissions of wonderful Valentine's dates, as well. Share your story in the comments.
You know what I love about Christmas? The craziness.
Yep, you heard me. I LOVE CRAZY!!! (Like you didn't already know that.)
That first weekend of December, when Pat drags out the boxes of decorations and the tree so I can "deck the halls" around this place - that is just about my favourite day of the year (it's definitely in the running, right after Christmas day, my birthday, the last day of school, and the first day of school).
There is something so deeply satisfying in taking a day (or six) of shopping and reaching the point of being able to say, "I'm done!"
I especially enjoy the anticipation in the children's eyes as they admire the wrapped gifts under the tree.
The busy-ness of running from Christmas concerts to work parties to friend's houses is a joyful kind of insane. It's even worth the tired and cranky little ones who've been allowed to stay up a wee bit late a time or two.
The best part of the craziness, though, is the family. For a couple weeks of the year I can count on everyone available to make an appearance. Weddings, funerals, and Christmas - those special times that really bring people together. If only for a couple days...
You see, my brother and sister are technically my "step" siblings. Our families merged when I was about 12 years old. This often leaves me as "odd man out" when it comes to sibling stuff. It doesn't help that I have a pack of five kids, and they are both child-free at this time in their lives. (Not only does it mean that we don't have a lot in common as far as what we do in our free time, who we hang with, etc.; I am, quite frankly, not very available for just hanging out kinda stuff.)
This divide is often just what I accept as life. Embrace what time we do get together, but try not to get hung up on the loss of my dream (you know, the Cleavers...laughter, love, connection, being the best of friends). Every now and then, though, it makes me a little sad. But this season - this month - for just a short bit of time, wipes that divide away. We're all together, crammed into small loud places, celebrating as a family. It's crazy, it's busy, but it is oh-so-beautiful.
The rules: 1. Post the rules on your blog. 2. Fill out the questions below 3. Tag 5-7 people at the end of your post. 4. Pass on the tag. Have FUN!!
1.Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Both. But only very occasionally.
2.Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? He likes to fill up stockings with unwrapped gifts (such as toothbrushes and underwear), but he also usually gives one gift to the whole family that is unwrapped (last year, we got Tinkerbell - farewell, Tink).
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? This year, I finally had a bit of money to buy my own lights (rather than using my parents' cast-offs). We have blue LED lights outside, with silvery-white on our posts. Those same silvery-white (did you know you can buy lights with different shades of white?) on the tree.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? No, but I've always thought I should. It would be great fun to make the kids go stand under the mistletoe when they're arguing.
5. When do you put your decorations up? Usually right around December 1st.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? I am VERY fond of stuffing...I like to mix it up with my mashed potatoes and pour gravy all over it. (Anyone still wondering why I'm having weight "issues?")
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child. We used to go to Manitoba and have Christmas with my Grandparents and Aunties and Uncles. Someone (Grandpa, I think) invented an excuse to give all the kids money - we put on a "show" and the relatives tossed dollar bills our way (I know, I'm dating myself with the dollar bill thing). One year my cousin, Nick, and I did a lip sync to Kenny Rogers' & Dolly Parton's "I'll Be There with Bells on." I can still see the tears streaming down my Grandma's face as I pulled the 14 pairs of rolled-up socks out of my shirt.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I'm sad to say that some mean kids at school ruined it for me! They were running around and blabbing about how smart they were and how dumb the rest of us were. I went home to ask my Mom, and she told me the story of Saint Nicholas. I was very relieved that she agreed to continue filling a stocking for me on his behalf.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We do - the kids always get pyjamas. Pat and I, in our early days, bought each other several gifts and would open one daily for about a week before Christmas. Not so much now.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? Much to my stress, we let the kids decorate it (and I fight my inner urges all month to keep from making it more symmetrical).
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Dread it - ugh. I'm perfectly happy having a brown Christmas.
12. Can you ice skate? Not anymore, my ankles are weaker than an eighty-year-old woman's.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Honestly, I can't remember a single gift that I didn't love. I pretty much always get what I want! (I think often because the list isn't very long - this year it includes some new pots and pans. LOL.)
14. What is the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Definitely that my kids know and understand the first Christmas and why we celebrate - Jesus coming to earth to save us.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Pumpkin pie. Or banana cream pie. Or raisin butter tarts. Maybe marshmallow peanut butter squares. Caramel popcorn. (Mom - you better get to baking! Mmmmmm.)
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? I enjoy a new tradition we started just a couple of years ago... Our kids each fill a shoebox for a child of the same age and gender, and they get sent off for Operation Christmas Child with Samaritan's Purse. It's the perfect way to begin the season where God gave more than we can ever imagine or understand - by giving of ourselves.
17. What tops your tree? Currently (and in years past), an angel. But I have several requests in to find a great big star for this year. I'm working on it...
18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving? I love giving - love planning, shopping, wrapping, and watching the gifts being opened. But I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy the receiving as well. Opening presents is so much fun! (I especially love being surprised.)
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? I'm going to reveal my age again, my childhood favourite (and still today) is "Mary's Boy Child" as sung by Boney-M (video embedded below for your listening enjoyment).
20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? One is yum (one per year, that is).
21. What do you want for Christmas? I mentioned pots and pans earlier (all my non-stick surfaces are getting sticky). Maybe jewelry, or a purse (I've been desperately searching for a red purse that is divided into two compartments - impossible!).
22. Do you attend an annual Christmas Party? Pat's work usually has a party - this year it's dinner and a dance at the local Legion. We often have a women's ministry party, as well (which I attend and plan) - this year we'll be bowling in January.
23. Do you dress up on Christmas or wear PJs? I usually dress up slightly from my pjs - yoga pants are nice and stretchy for overeating.
24. Do you own a Santa hat? I don't, but I believe the four older kids each have one.
25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with? We go over to my parents' place, and my brother and sister and their spouses come, too.
In the spirit of winter tag, imagine me tossing a snowball at each of the following bloggers (I am trying to hit people whom I've never tagged or linked to before):
Joy @ Joy in the Journey, Stacy @ my simple walk, Starr @ Threshold Moments, Christy @ Life as a Mom, and Moi @ Life as Moi (sorry, I know her real name, but I don't know if she wants everyone to know, lol). If I haven't tagged you, but you want to play anyway - feel free! It's fun for everyone. :) (Cheesy, I know.) Just leave a comment telling me and everyone else that you're playing, too. And if you don't have a blog, go ahead and leave a super-duper long comment. (I LOVE comments!)
Deep down in my heart, I love peace and order. I appreciate rules and like to follow them (most of the time). I am happy when things are in their assigned place. I live by lists. Any other Type As out there know what I'm talking about?
You'd think with this profile that I must have been an obedient child, a well-behaved teen, and a role-model as a young adult. But somewhere deep within lurks a nasty seed of rebellion...
Reflecting on my teen years is a dangerous thing, because I now see things through the eyes of a mother - with three daughters! It makes me love and appreciate my mom even more. It also makes me want to apologise to her.
While I was pregnant with my first, I became aware that I needed to grow up. I realized that I needed Jesus in my life - because there was no way I could do this motherhood thing without Him. Things like establishing a heritage of faith became very important to me. So I put aside my rebellious ways...
Or so I thought.
Somewhere in my teen years I began a different pattern of rebellion. I rebelled against anything that was 'in' or 'cool' or 'trendy.' In many ways this was a natural response to the financial constraints that prevented me from achieving 'cool.' My mom was, for many years, single-parenting me. So there were some basic guidelines about shopping - she would buy what I needed, I had to take care of what I wanted. The one and only pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans I owned took me months of saving! It didn't take me long to realize that no matter how hard I strove to fit in, I would not have the many trappings that were expected of the 'in' crowd. (I tried to use the word "strived" here; apparently spellchecker thinks that word doesn't exist, but "strove" isn't much better, is it?)
So what does one do when one realizes becoming popular is impossible? Well, one becomes bound and determined to avoid all things popular, to develop a strong disdain for all things trendy. Because the last thing one wants is for anyone to find out that one really does want nothing more than acceptance.
I chose to convert my desperate need to feel accepted by my peers into a passion for making choices that would make me different. Anyone else done this? I see so many teens heading through the mall in their 'goth' and 'emo' outfits (complete with makeup) and I think to myself, "I've got you figured..."
I just realised that that is still me. Even at 30-years-old, I mask my true desire to be accepted with a veneer of disdain for virtually anything considered trendy. Here are a few things I've been rebelling against...
Nice clothing. I continue to shop at WalMart for clothing. Which would be fine (and it is nice financially, and given my frequent size changes), except that I choose casual over 'grown-up' every time. I was folding laundry yesterday and realized that 90% of my wardrobe is 100% cotton. I want to look nice, put-together, attractive, yet my heart of rebellion keeps me buying exercise gear and jeans - because I don't want people to think I all-of-a-sudden care about looking good and fitting in. By the way, if 'What Not to Wear' comes to Canada, and anyone would like to nominate me, I'd gladly buy you a Timmy's coffee for your troubles!
The environment. I barely recycle. I use disposable diapers and plastic bags at alarming rates. If I don't use way too much water and electricity it's simply because I'm trying to save money. People are forever talking about 'going green.' Everyone seems to be hopping on the 'environmentally friendly bandwagon.' But not me - nu-uh! I'm not going to start being all crazy about saving the environment...because we all know that nothing we do now can actually repair the damage that's been done, so ultimately it's just another one of those trendy things. (*Being self-deprecating here...I really DO care, I just resist showing it.)
Homeschooling. Before you get all excited - I WILL NOT be homeschooling my children anytime soon! I don't believe God is placing that call on me. But in the past I have made the same statement while in my head I thought, "I know, I know, all the cool moms are doing it. What is WITH this crazy trend, anyway? I will NEVER..." It really is a growing trend, and I do believe that there are a lot of moms doing it for the wrong reasons - such as fitting in, being admired, feeling like 'Super Mom.' But I realise, too, that there are a lot of women homeschooling because God has called them to - because that's what's best for them and their children, for this time in their lives.
Organic food. I've always said that I don't 'believe' in organic food. What I mean is that I don't buy all the hype that it's really better. I don't necessarily believe that all the kids who are being raised on organic have any less chance of developing cancer than we do. But largely, I've just been busy rebelling against the ever-growing popularity of eating organic. I'd rather just choose to be different. Every now and then I wonder, though, if what I'm feeding my kids does make a difference...
Lately, I have been praying against the spirit of rebellion in our family's history (there are many rebellious souls on both sides). I have been asking God to break that chain in our family, so that our children will be free from its hold. I am claiming His deliverance for my children, so that they will have hearts to walk in obedience to Him (and their parents) and not test Him (or us). I see the fruits of such rebellion in my nephew, who has turned far away from the Lord, and my heart breaks at the idea of my own children taking that same path.
I find it interesting that once I began praying against rebellion (which I thought I had 'grown out of'), God is showing me how rebellious my heart still is. God is a funny guy!
Disclaimer: This post is in no way intended to offend those who eat organic, homeschool their children, care about the environment, or dress nicely. I love you all very much and do not at all presume that your choices are based on the current trends. Once God deals with the rebellious nature of my heart, I may very well be doing some of those same things (with the exception of the homeschooling, though - really, I have my limits).
Do you remember that question from your childhood - "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Today was my brother-in-law's high school graduation. As each young adult was being handed their diploma, one of the teachers told us about their future plans. One was going to work, many had plans to travel, some were honest about their intentions to spend a year partying, others were going to college and/or university. I was struck by a few that clearly had BIG plans about what they wanted to be when they grew up. Medical school, dentistry, optometry, hair school, anthroplogy...
I remember answering the question any number of ways, depending on how I felt on that particular day. I'm sure I told more than one person I was going to be a doctor (I've definitely got the handwriting part down). I foolishly may have told one or two people that I'd like to be a teacher (me, with the patience and attention span of a two-year-old). If memory serves, when they read what I wrote for my graduation, it was something like this, "Tyler will take a year off to work, then attend Red Deer College where she will get her Bachelor of Arts in psychology."
I wonder how many of those nearly 400 graduates today will do what they said they would do. How many will completely change their minds. How many will change their life course due to a change in life circumstances.
I did get my BA in psych. Graduated in 2001. But during my first year at college (1997-1998, yes, after working for a year) my life course changed. Big time. I became a Mom. And the funny thing was, deep inside I knew that this was what I really wanted to be when I grew up. I finished university because, well, I guess I thought I should. But in my heart, all I really wanted was to be a Mom.
I remember walking around the neighbourhood with my childhood friend, Niki. We each had a stroller with a wrapped-up baby doll, and as we walked we talked. How many kids did we want? (I always wanted six.) How old did we want to be when we got married? (Me - no later than 24.) Would we work when we had children? (Of course not! We'd obviously be smart enough to marry guys who made good money.)
It amazes me how God can bring everything full-circle in our lives. Those lazy summer days playing Mommy came back to me today. And all I could do was thank God for giving me the desires of my heart. For bringing me back around - from 'ambition' to just living. Sometimes, just living is exactly what we're supposed to do.
Thank-you, Lord, for letting me frow up to be a Mommy. Help me to remember that this is a gift from You, that theyare a gift from You. Teach me to just live.
Do you ever hear a song that brings you back in time? When you listen to the lyrics, you actually FEEL the emotions?
I used to have a song. It was my teenage angst, broken-hearted, bitter and angry, belt-it-out-loud song. Nothing was more cathartic than singing it will all my heart and soul, all the while sobbing and hiccuping. This song carried me through many dumpings and ditchings. I remember the first time it took on this purpose for me...DP, my grade 7 sweetheart. We 'went out' for about 5 weeks. Wait, maybe it was 3 weeks. Whatever - it was a serious, long-term commitment. We slowed danced and he put his hand in the back pocket of my jeans - nothing says true love quite like that!
This song has endured the test of time, carrying me through explosive arguments with Pat during the early years of our 'courtship.' (Don't worry, we're way better at being subtle and cutting when we fight nowadays. Kidding. We're good. Usually. Most of the time. Today. *wink*)
Take a listen. I can feel the tears and anger welling just reading those angst-filled lyrics...
I thought I should paste the actual lyrics down here, because I was pretty certain as a teen that she was saying "drive the women eff-in wild" - thought it would be good to clarify that, lol!
You're struttin' into town like you're slingin' a gun Just a small town dude with a big city attitude Honey are ya lookin' for some trouble tonight Well all right
You think you're so bad, drive the women folk wild Shoot 'em all down with the flash of your pearly smile Honey but you met your match tonight Oh, that's right
You think you'll knock me off my feet 'til I'm flat on the floor 'Til my heart is cryin' Indian and I'm beggin for more So come on baby Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for
[CHORUS] If you can give it I can take it 'Cause if this heart is gonna break it's gonna take a lot to break it I know tonight Somebody's gonna win the fight So if you're so tough Come on and prove it You heart is down for the count and you know you're gonna lose it Tonight you're gonna go down in flames Just like Jesse James
You're an outlaw lover and I'm after your hide Well you ain't so strong, won't be long 'til your hands are tied Tonight I'm gonna take you in dead or alive That's right
You break the laws of love in the name of desire Take ten steps back cause I'm ready baby Aim and fire Baby there's nowhere you gonna run tonight Ooh that's right
Well you've had your way with love but it's the end of the day Now a team of wild horses couldn't drag your heart away So come on baby Come on baby Come on baby you know there ain't nothing left to say
[CHORUS INSTRUMENTAL]
You think you'll knock me off my feet 'til I'm flat on the floor 'Til my heart is cryin' Indian and I'm beggin for more So come on baby Come on baby, come on
[CHORUS]
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames Just like Jesse James Tonight you're gonna go down in flames Just like Jesse James
I'm gonna shoot you down Jesse James
Always one to give credit where credit is due, my inspiration for this post was stolen borrowed from Big Mama.
My darlin' Abbey, she's got some issues. The child is forever in pain. "I stubbed my toe...I bonked my head...I bit my tongue...there's a big bruise on my shin...I whacked my funny bone." On and on it goes. Really, it's an unending saga.
My mom and I were commiserating with one of Abbey's most recent injuries - the result of tripping over her own feet and falling into a large, stationary object - and I was whisked back to another time and place.
...Summer, 1986ish, age 8ish...
We always took the most fun summer vacations! Drive from point A to point B, which are generally no less than a full day and night of travel apart, remain at point B for a few days, check out all the tourist-y things to do, drive from point B back to point A. (No stopping allowed while driving, so be prepared to eat and sleep in the backseat of the car. Pee breaks only when stopping for gas is necessary.)
This particular summer, we were headed to Kelowna, BC to visit relatives (it's hard to say if they were really related, as I called a number of my parents' adult friends 'Auntie' and 'Uncle'). This family had, get this, a guest cabin! And horses! Backing onto the mountains! Next door to a cherry orchard! And two little girls to boss around! An *only child's dream vacation. With the exception of the rooster that crowed at 5am...
Many fun moments stand out, but one day's memories dominate all thoughts of that vacation. Old MacDonald's Farm. There were few things that excited me as much as the prospect of this place! All sorts of fun and games, all day long...there was even a waterslide!
We started out the day at the petting zoo. I had great fun bottle feeding a little goat (is that a lamb?) and chasing after some bunnies. But the stinky petting pen couldn't hold my interest for long - across the way I spied a pony ride. Woohoo!
Round and round, slow and plodding, with the occasional prod by one of the workers to keep it moving - those Shetland ponies can be pretty stubborn, ya know. Following my turn I had the boredom pleasure of waiting for my cousin to finish his ride. To pass the time, I thought it would be lovely to pet one of those pretty little ponies who was waiting by the sidelines for her turn. Little did I know, this pony was resting after her turn (not excitedly awaiting her opportunity to carry another squirming child in endless circles). My gentle stroking proved too much for her, and sweet Bessy (truth be told, when I not-so-fondly recollect her, her name is 'b@#&!y Bessy') leaned forward and bit me. Yep, took a big chomp with her giant horse teeth. Right. On. My. Belly. "Moooooooooom!!!!!"
Mom rushed me to the concession to retrieve a band-aid because yes, the evil pony actually drew blood! We went around to the washroom (which is in back of the concession), stepped back from the door way momentarily to allow others to exit, then charged in head-first. Literally. Whack! Right on my noggin. There was a dastardly lovely hanging plant near the door to the bathroom, dangling at just the right height for young girls to meet it head-on (pun intended). "Owwwwwwwwww!!!!!"
So far, Old MacDonald's Farm was ranking about second on my list of life's worst experiences.
I did eventually recover from my injuries and re-joined the world of fun. We wandered around from one activity to the next, and though I had a headache and my tummy was throbbing, I made the best of it. I was looking back to my mom to tell her something (probably about how proud she should be of me because I didn't let a little rough patch ruin my whole day). On a side note, I cannot count the number of times my mom had warned me about the perils of walking and looking backwards to talk. Guess what - she was right - I tripped on a rock. Fell flat on my face. "Waaaaaaaa!!!!!" Are you beginning to sense a pattern?!
We ended our day with some fun in the pool. Did I mention there was a waterslide? I had band-aids on my tummy and knees, I had taken a good dose of Tylenol, and I was excited to cool off from the heat of the day. First thing first - down the slide. It's helpful to mention that it was a fairly long waterslide, but designed for smaller children - so it was slower-moving and landed in shallow water. If you've ever done any watersliding, you'll know that you can make a slow slide go faster by laying flat on your back, crossing your ankles, and crossing your arms on your chest. You'll also know that coming off a slide at that speed requires a bit of room in the pool. Did I mention the shallow landing? Oh yeah, you know me by now - my body skidded to a stop by scraping my hindquarters, back, and shoulder blades across the bottom of the shallow pool. "I want to go home!!!!!!!"
You will still find this day logged in the record books as 'Worst Day Ever In My Whole Life.'
I can honestly say that I've outgrown my clumsiness. Except when I need to use a very sharp knife. Or walk straight. Or duck under things. Or climb over things. Or drive around obstacles such as low fences. Totally outgrown it. My husband never feels the need to remind me to "be careful." Never. It's all good.
Oh dear! I must run! Abbey has just whacked her head while crawling under the table (no, I have no idea why she felt the need to do this). And in her effort to get out from under while keeping her eyes closed against the blinding pain she knocked over a chair. It fell across her back. And I think she may have sprained her ankle in the process! She really is my daughter...
* You may be confused by the reference to being an only child, knowing that I have a brother and a sister. They are not mine by birth, but we merged our families when I was 12. So I was a 'lonely only' until I inherited my sibs.
