Startling Thought

My last blog just prompted the most startling thought!  What if McKinley has her Daddy's big ole head with a Honey-sized body?  She'll never be able to walk!  Great....now I'll be biting my fingernails 'til she's born....

Fly Sandwiches

For me one of life's greatest pleasures is knowing exactly who I came from and feeling the connection that binds all of us together.  I love to look in the mirror and see the shape and color of Granny's eyes, Grandad's nose, and most especially PawPaw's dark, wavy hair.  These traits remind me of them every day.  They remind me not only of who I came from, but how I am the link that binds them to the ones who will follow.  I didn't mention MawMaw in there.  Of all four grandparents, she is the one that I look absolutely nothing like.  But genetics are funny in that they don't just show up in our eye color and facial features, but in our personalities as well.  I have always found genetics fascinating.  Like how I'm tempered like PawPaw and Granny in terms of being happy pretty much all the time, but didn't get an ounce of  PawPaw's nature to worry (thank heavens!).  Honey and J got the giant doses of that, poor ole souls.  I'm tempered like all four in the aspect that they all had a great sense of humor and were fun loving.  I failed to get Grandad's temper, and I failed to inherit MawMaw's pouting abilities, but I did inherit the great love of music that Grandad, PawPaw, and MawMaw all shared.  I can still hear Grandad's and PawPaw's voices singing and it always makes me smile.  When I think of MawMaw singing I never fail to remember the first Christmas home from college that Honey, MawMaw, and I were sitting together in church and MawMaw came in a full measure ahead of everyone else in "O Little Town of Bethlehem".  The "Oooooooooooooooh" still rings loud in my ears and still makes me bust out laughing just like it did then.  In fact, I had to get up and leave I was laughing so hard.  Honey was about 2 seconds behind me.  I believe it took about 20 minutes to compose ourselves enough to go back in only to have MawMaw say to the lady next to her (in her most somber voice), "I'm sorry they acted that way."  The lady's response (in her most somber voice) was, "We just raise them the best we can".  Those comments naturally did nothing but get us going again.  One of the best things I got from MawMaw, aside from a definite and pretty serious mischevious streak, are her crazy dream genetics.  She dreams the craziest stuff I've ever heard aside from the crazy stuff I dream.   In fact, a couple of years ago she and I died laughing on the phone as she told me about one dream in particular that I've never forgotten.  She dreamed that Honey and Uncle Bud were little, they were hungry, and she only had one rotten tomato left to make a sandwich out of.  So, she cut off as much of the bad parts as she could to make them a rotten tomato sandwich when someone showed up at the door and she felt that she needed to give them the sandwich instead.  But that left her with nothing to feed her poor little youngins with, so she saw a fly buzzing around, caught it, and made them a fly sandwich to eat.   The best part to any of the descriptions she gives of her dreams is when she finishes the story and ends with, "Now ain't that crazy?"  Ha ha ha. That's exactly why I love them!  They are crazy just like mine!  The other night I dreamed a big ole black bear was coming after me and the kids and I got the kids behind me, picked up a giant rock and waited to see what the bear would do.  It ate some sort of dead animal about ten feet from us and when it finished it turned our direction, stood up on it's hind legs and roared.  I knew that with black bears if there is no way of getting away, then you should get to higher ground, make yourself as big as you can, and make as much noise as possible, so I lifted the giant rock over my head and roared back.  It roared again, so I roared back.  It roared a third time, and in my dream I let out the loudest, deepest, most inhuman roar back and it turned and ran off.  The next morning I wasn't the least bit suprised to learn that I had, alas, roared out loud in my sleep.  Oh the things poor Clint has to put up with!  Fortunately after all these years he's used to it.  I broke him in quick the second night we were married when I dreamed I was fighting somebody and kneed him right in the butt cheek as hard as I could while I was asleep.  I hit him so hard I woke myself up just to find him jumping around the motel room (lit only by the dim light coming through the drapes from the street lamps below) with a cramp in his butt.  Needless to say for some reason he has always slept with his back to me since and I can't for the life of me figure out why.  I guess it's a good thing, otherwise we might not have ever had children.   So far, none of my youngins have exhibited any signs that they might also carry this gene.  Who knows, maybe it's one that skips generations.  I sure hope not.  I'd really hate for them to miss out on the joys of waking up after a full nights sleep of crazy dreams.  I also failed to pass practically any of those good Lail/Scott/Whaley/Sutton genes on to them since in appearances I did nothing but incubate them.  The only evidence that they are mine are in the shape of Erika's eyes, which are shaped like mine and Granny's.  I'm hoping that at least maybe they'll have inherited some of those characteristics passed down to me that don't just show up on the outside.  I guess only time will tell.  I'd hate to be a complete recessive gene.  After all, it would be a terrible shame for them not to inherit any of the good stuff coming from my side of the family, because there is a whole big fat pile of a lot of good.  I've always known I was super blessed to be born to the family I was, and the older I get the more I realize how rare and wonderful of a gift it was.  I'm one of the few people who's very first emotion when thinking about their family as a whole is pure, undiluted happiness and love followed instantaneoulsy by laughter.  Lots and lots of laughter.  Most people are embarrassed by their "weird" family.  Hogwash I say!  Every family is weird.  I'm just grateful I was sent to mine...face-making, prank-pulling, song-singing, laughter-loving, hard working, adventuresome, giant-hearted, bug-eyeing, parable-speaking, sunny-side-of life, loyal, loving lot that they are.

One Last Treasure

It didn't take very long at all after discovering that we were expecting another baby that our thoughts turned to Nana accompanied by the sense of hollowness at not being able to tell her the news, of knowing that she won't be here to hold this little one and cuddle her in her quiet, unassuming, unobtrusive way.  This baby will only know her from the photos and stories that we'll share with her.  We've talked several times about how even though McKinley won't have her Nana here with her in person, she is getting some great one on one time with her right now while she's waiting to make her appearance, and we've laughed about how if Nana has anything to do with it, McKinley will have a few tricks up her sleeves and a mischeivious twinkle in her eye too.  Among those thoughts and others, we both recognized that one of the things she won't have is a blanket made for her by her Nana.  Fast forward to last Monday, the day after Mother's Day.  I opened a box we got in the mail from Rebecca to find this blanket inside with a short note about it being a blanket for a girl grandbaby made by Nana.  It's a good thing the note was so short because I couldn't have read any further anyway.  I stood in the kitchen in shock with big ole fat tears running down my face, grateful for a sister-in-law so selfless to share one last treasure from her mother with us.  The story goes something like this:  Last summer while Rebecca was cleaning out the house she was going through a stack of quilts that Nana had made and came across this baby blanket.  She said she knew it wasn't for her, Jessica said she knew it wasn't for her, and Rebecca said she knew Nana had meant if for somebody and it must be meant for us.  So, she decided to put it in our box of things, but felt like she should take it home with her instead because she didn't know when we would be able to come get it.  None of us had an inkling last summer that a miracle was about to take place, but having been gone already almost two years somehow Nana had known and had made this quilt for our baby girl.  So typical of who she was and how in tune she always seemed to be with her family and things that truly mattered.  Two and half years after she left us, she is still blessing our lives, still letting us know that even though we cannot see her she is still right here with us.  How fortunate I feel to have been blessed with this extraordinary woman as the mother of my husband (whom I can see her reflection in daily), as my mother-in-law, and the grandmother of my children who also remind me of her almost daily in their looks and personalities.   I am so reminded by her of the words to the song "A Mother's Eyes Relfect the Love of Heaven" by Steven Jones:

"A mother's eyes reflect the love of heaven.
A love borne long before this life began.
A love which grows each day, which will not fade away,
A love inspired by Heavenly Father's plan.

A mother's hands reflect a life of service,
A life of sacrifice for those she loves,
And with her giving hands she shapes the soul of man,
Prepares him for eternal life above.

A mother's life reflects itself in our life,
Her ways of living are engrained in ours,
And through the changing years and days of joys and tears,
Her love will lead us on."