What am I thankful for today? Let's see. . .
Adrienne, Aaron, and Amy,
Birds singing in the morning,
Coffee with hazelnut creamer and whipped cream,
Dishes are done,
Excellent potato salad seasoned with chives from my garden,
Freshly mopped kitchen floor,
God,
Heather,
Ice cream, coffee ice-cream in case you were wondering,
John Deere tractor with my husband driving it.
Katie's Ice-Cream,
Leo and LisaAnna,
Music, Celtic to be exact,
New tires on my car,
Outside things to do,
Phlox,
Quilts drying on the clothesline,
Ryan,
Sewing machines,
Tax refund,
Uniqueness,
Variety,
Water,
X chromosomes,
Yellow buttercups,
Zippy salsa
. . . and that's that.
Love,
Dianne
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Flexibility is More Than Just Doing A Split
Flexibility is a good quality to possess. Now, I don't mean the "doing splits" kind of flexible, but the being able to change plans kind of flexible.
(Although, being able to do splits would be interesting.)
I planned to go somewhere this evening to meet with someone. I was getting ready to eat supper and then go shower when Ryan started acting funny. Not "ha-ha" funny, but just quiet. It didn't take long before he started crying and said he had a headache and didn't feel good. Just like that, my plans changed.
Now, I am watching an old Disney movie, Rascal with Ryan; it's about a boy and his pet raccoon. I could be at my meeting, mowing yard, weeding out the herbs, or cleaning something. Instead, plans changed and I needed to be flexible.
Did I like my plans changed? No.
Do I feel like watching a movie? Maybe later, after dark, but not now.
Do I take the change in plans in stride? Not always.
For the most part, I like to know what I am doing, and when. I like structure. I like schedules, daily planners, and to-do lists.
But I also like to be able to "go with the flow" and be able to adapt to whatever comes my way. Just like so many things in life, it comes down to balance. One extreme or the other is never good. I learned when my children were babies, that strict schedules and I never really worked. Every time something would happen and the schedule got messed up, I was frustrated and anxious. We just did better having a flexible schedule that accounted for the unexpected.
I guess that's just how I am wired. Or short-wired as the case may be. It would be easy to get angry, and honestly, sometimes I do, when things change and life throws me a curve ball, but everyone is happier when I can be flexible.
I have a work schedule, and events with the family that can't just be changed, but sometimes there are things that I can adjust or work around if I have to. It is in those times that I can choose what my priorities are.
Tonight I choose to be a mother to a little boy who needs me to be here.
And I am thankful I have the option.
Love,
Dianne
(Although, being able to do splits would be interesting.)
I planned to go somewhere this evening to meet with someone. I was getting ready to eat supper and then go shower when Ryan started acting funny. Not "ha-ha" funny, but just quiet. It didn't take long before he started crying and said he had a headache and didn't feel good. Just like that, my plans changed.
Now, I am watching an old Disney movie, Rascal with Ryan; it's about a boy and his pet raccoon. I could be at my meeting, mowing yard, weeding out the herbs, or cleaning something. Instead, plans changed and I needed to be flexible.
Did I like my plans changed? No.
Do I feel like watching a movie? Maybe later, after dark, but not now.
Do I take the change in plans in stride? Not always.
For the most part, I like to know what I am doing, and when. I like structure. I like schedules, daily planners, and to-do lists.
But I also like to be able to "go with the flow" and be able to adapt to whatever comes my way. Just like so many things in life, it comes down to balance. One extreme or the other is never good. I learned when my children were babies, that strict schedules and I never really worked. Every time something would happen and the schedule got messed up, I was frustrated and anxious. We just did better having a flexible schedule that accounted for the unexpected.
I guess that's just how I am wired. Or short-wired as the case may be. It would be easy to get angry, and honestly, sometimes I do, when things change and life throws me a curve ball, but everyone is happier when I can be flexible.
I have a work schedule, and events with the family that can't just be changed, but sometimes there are things that I can adjust or work around if I have to. It is in those times that I can choose what my priorities are.
Tonight I choose to be a mother to a little boy who needs me to be here.
And I am thankful I have the option.
Love,
Dianne
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Flying is For The Birds
Birds look so graceful when they fly. Jets look impressive and butterflies look sweet. As for me?
I just look pale, shaky and scared.
I wish I enjoyed flying. I wish it didn't scare me. I wish, I wish, I wish.
My first experience with flying was with Markel Maust when I was about three or four years old. He took my parents and my big sister up in his small airplane. I remember being strapped into the same seatbelt as Kimmy and flying over Northern High School. I don't remember being scared then and as far as I remember it was a good experience.
Fast forward now 30-something years. I have decided I don't like heights and the idea of flying makes me queasy and sweaty. I'm not sure why, it just does. Flying hadn't been necessary until now.
Adrienne and I decided to go with a group to Guatemala on a missions trip. I had no choice but to fly. Sitting in the airplane, waiting, was torture. Then the engines started with a roar and I felt like an internal countdown had begun. A time bomb. I gripped the seat as we rushed down the runway and before I really knew it, we were airborne.
And it wasn't so bad.
After getting to Texas, we had to wait for our connecting flight. The longer the wait, the more the fear began to rear its ugly head again. This time though, I knew what to expect and didn't grip the seat quite so hard. The landing was the worst part as I was seeing building fly by us, fast, and we hadn't touched down yet. When we did, it was, shall we say, bumpy and abrupt.
I survived.
Coming home, we had to do all the security stuff to leave the country. Shall we just say that you should never put fingernail clippers in your back pocket and forget about them? Our flight took us to Miami where we had a very brief time to make our connecting flight to Pittsburgh. Our group got separated and as we dashed through the airport, I learned that it seems much more romantic in movies to do the same thing. Believe me, it was anything but a romantic adventure. Somehow we made it to where we needed to be, and when they took us out to our plane, I really thought it looked like a Fisher Price jet. Very small.
I learned that a smaller plane goes much higher and faster than others and that I should consider it lucky to be aboard. I just hoped our flight attendant was right. As we got close to Pittsburgh and began to drop altitude, everybody aboard groaned out loud as it was a bit like a roller coaster.
Again, I survived, although my luggage didn't make it until a few days later.
Fast forward again, just a few years this time.
I need to fly in a helicopter for work as we go on transports to outlying hospitals for sick babies. I have been on 2 flights so far and really can't say that I hope for more. Even though flying hasn't been terrible, it still just scares me to the point that I feel like I can't move. Somehow God gives me the strength to do what I need to do, and I am usually okay once I am in motion again.
Still not graceful, impressive, or sweet, but at least surviving as I go through the motions.
Why does it scare me? I don't know.
Will I let it conquer me? No.
Will I pray hard every time? Yes
I hope that today, whatever it is that is making you afraid, that you will face it head-on. Take a deep breath, pray and take that first step forward. You never know where it might take you.
Up, up and away,
Dianne
I just look pale, shaky and scared.
I wish I enjoyed flying. I wish it didn't scare me. I wish, I wish, I wish.
My first experience with flying was with Markel Maust when I was about three or four years old. He took my parents and my big sister up in his small airplane. I remember being strapped into the same seatbelt as Kimmy and flying over Northern High School. I don't remember being scared then and as far as I remember it was a good experience.
Fast forward now 30-something years. I have decided I don't like heights and the idea of flying makes me queasy and sweaty. I'm not sure why, it just does. Flying hadn't been necessary until now.
Adrienne and I decided to go with a group to Guatemala on a missions trip. I had no choice but to fly. Sitting in the airplane, waiting, was torture. Then the engines started with a roar and I felt like an internal countdown had begun. A time bomb. I gripped the seat as we rushed down the runway and before I really knew it, we were airborne.
And it wasn't so bad.
After getting to Texas, we had to wait for our connecting flight. The longer the wait, the more the fear began to rear its ugly head again. This time though, I knew what to expect and didn't grip the seat quite so hard. The landing was the worst part as I was seeing building fly by us, fast, and we hadn't touched down yet. When we did, it was, shall we say, bumpy and abrupt.
I survived.
Coming home, we had to do all the security stuff to leave the country. Shall we just say that you should never put fingernail clippers in your back pocket and forget about them? Our flight took us to Miami where we had a very brief time to make our connecting flight to Pittsburgh. Our group got separated and as we dashed through the airport, I learned that it seems much more romantic in movies to do the same thing. Believe me, it was anything but a romantic adventure. Somehow we made it to where we needed to be, and when they took us out to our plane, I really thought it looked like a Fisher Price jet. Very small.
I learned that a smaller plane goes much higher and faster than others and that I should consider it lucky to be aboard. I just hoped our flight attendant was right. As we got close to Pittsburgh and began to drop altitude, everybody aboard groaned out loud as it was a bit like a roller coaster.
Again, I survived, although my luggage didn't make it until a few days later.
Fast forward again, just a few years this time.
I need to fly in a helicopter for work as we go on transports to outlying hospitals for sick babies. I have been on 2 flights so far and really can't say that I hope for more. Even though flying hasn't been terrible, it still just scares me to the point that I feel like I can't move. Somehow God gives me the strength to do what I need to do, and I am usually okay once I am in motion again.
Still not graceful, impressive, or sweet, but at least surviving as I go through the motions.
Why does it scare me? I don't know.
Will I let it conquer me? No.
Will I pray hard every time? Yes
I hope that today, whatever it is that is making you afraid, that you will face it head-on. Take a deep breath, pray and take that first step forward. You never know where it might take you.
Up, up and away,
Dianne
Monday, May 14, 2012
Taking Chances
On Saturday, I played "official" BINGO for the first time. A fundraiser was held for my cousin Sandi and her husband Keith and their children to help them as they move to Chile to help children in crisis.
As I am playing BINGO, I was inspired by the game cards. Weird, I know. Ryan was playing with me, and I decided to make something for his room as a way to remind him to pray for the Probst family.
Not to mention that it rained all day and I was feeling crafty.
I started with an old dresser drawer.
I wasn't sure how it would turn out or if I'd even like it.
But then again, life's a little like BINGO sometimes, full of chances and sometimes you just have to take them. Follow where God leads.
Like Keith and Sandi.
Love,
Dianne
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Prepared for Motherhood?
Before I had children, I thought I knew what being a mother was. I thought it would be easy; after all, I was an organized, healthy, energetic young woman. I had eagerly read Dr. Spock's Baby and Childcare and devoured every handout my OB/GYN tossed my way. Not to mention the knowledge and common sense imparted to me by my own mother.
I thought I was prepared, but nothing prepares you for:
-sleepless nights
-feedings at every hour
-sore gums and cranky days
-explosive diapers
-juggling schedules and baby care
-postpartum depression
And that was just the baby stuff.
Nothing quite prepared me for :
-the terrible two's
-the even more terrible three's
-the whining
-potty training
-chicken pox
-teaching manners to an uncooperative student
-worrying about their safety
And that was just the toddler/preschool years.
I was even less prepared for :
-sibling rivalry
-fighting and biting
-friendship troubles
-2nd grade math
-more worry about safety
-being needed more and having even less time
And this was just the school age years.
I figured the next years would be a breeze. I didn't account for:
-dating ups and downs
-changing bodies
-shopping for teenage clothes
-hurt feelings, broken hearts
-talking about sex
-knowing when to step in and when to step out
-allowing them to make mistakes and deal with consequences
And that was yesterday.
Being a mother has been the hardest job I've ever had. And the best. Nothing could've prepared me for:
-the joy of being a new family
-the warmth of baby's breath on your face
-soft chubby hands
-first words, first steps
-sticky fingered hugs
-their joy in simple things
-watching their independence grow
-late night giggles
-late night talks
-family vacation
-unique personalities
-day to day family life
-being friends with your adult child
-The joy of being a family still
It didn't matter how prepared I thought I was, because I wasn't. It wouldn't have mattered anyhow, because no matter how many parenting books I'd read, my babies hadn't read a single one. And all the books in the world, although they prepared me (kind of) for the practicalities of parenthood, couldn't prepare me for the unspeakable joys that awaited me.
From Day 1 to Day 7490, it's been a journey I'd do all over again. Thank you Adrienne, Aaron, Amy, Heather and Ryan for making me a mother. I love you.
Explosive diapers and all.
Love,
Mother Bear
Friday, May 11, 2012
Dogs, Cats, Turtles and Sheep...Oh my!
I am not a pet person.
It's not that I don't like animals. I do, just not in my house.
Our experience with pets hasn't been all that great either.
Let's see. . .
When we first got married, Leo and I had Oscar, an older beagle that was Leo's. He fell through the barn floor. Then we got Dino, another beagle and a gift from his brother Ben. He ran off one night.
Once,Leo gave me birds: two little finches. They were cute enough, but so incredibly noisy and they would make this "bee...beee.beee" sound all the time. He took the finches back, and returned with a canary. She was a lovely bright yellow color, but she was even chirpier than the finches. And louder, especially first thing in the morning. I didn't think it was fair to keep her cage covered all the time to give her the illusion of night, and she got returned too.
We had a couple of ducks (or were they geese?) for a while, but they weren't very friendly and they ate all the green beans in the garden. At present, of course, we have the chickens. . . we'll see how that goes.
I brought home a puppy once and Leo made me take it back the same day. Something about too much stress with two toddlers and a puppy. Then, years later, he brings home a miniature horse (Her name is Merrylegs). Go figure.
Once we moved here to Level Acres Lane, we acquired Rex, part collie and part bassett hound. He was three years old when we got him and lived to the age of 17. He was a good dog and was really our only "good" dog experience. Rex was friendly most of the time except when he got his annual buzz haircut in the summer. Hey, I never said I was good with clippers. Poor dog; he always looked so embarrassed when I got done with the haircut.
We also had Molly (Aaron's beagle pup) and Ty (a one year old boxer that needed a home). They both met their end on the road. Telling Aaron about Molly was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and not something I never want to do again.
Rico was our next dog. Part Westie, part beagle, he had wiry hair and a scruffy look about him. He was a funny little dog and liked to play with the neighbor's boxer. He got backed over by a truck and needed to go to the vet for repair. He actually coded on the operating table and got his heart massaged. After surviving all that, he just disappeared two winter's ago. We never found out what happened to him.
Adrienne had two sheep, Nellie and Emma, for a couple of years. They were friendly and actually were a part of local live Nativities at Christmas. The problem with sheep is that they eat everything green that grows, including my gardens. They would actually strip the lilacs and rose bushes bare up as high as they could reach.
Martha is my cat, a nice gray mama cat. I tried her as a house cat, but it just didn't work out. Too much attitude. Mine and hers. She is now a barn cat along with Kurt, Tigger, Sneakers, and her new litter of five (free to a good home). They like to congregate outside the front door or in the flower beds. Grrr.
Along the way we have also had a turtle named Olive, two anole lizards, miscellaneous tadpoles, tropical fish, and beta fish, and hamsters. Oh, and rabbits. We won't mention what happened to Zippers. Poor Zippers.
I am not a pet person. I like playing with other people's pets; I just haven't found the right match for me. Maybe there should be a pet/person matchmaker. I don't know what I'd end up with.
Who knows? We haven't tried a potbelly pig yet.
Love,
Dianne
It's not that I don't like animals. I do, just not in my house.
Our experience with pets hasn't been all that great either.
Let's see. . .
When we first got married, Leo and I had Oscar, an older beagle that was Leo's. He fell through the barn floor. Then we got Dino, another beagle and a gift from his brother Ben. He ran off one night.
Once,Leo gave me birds: two little finches. They were cute enough, but so incredibly noisy and they would make this "bee...beee.beee" sound all the time. He took the finches back, and returned with a canary. She was a lovely bright yellow color, but she was even chirpier than the finches. And louder, especially first thing in the morning. I didn't think it was fair to keep her cage covered all the time to give her the illusion of night, and she got returned too.
We had a couple of ducks (or were they geese?) for a while, but they weren't very friendly and they ate all the green beans in the garden. At present, of course, we have the chickens. . . we'll see how that goes.
I brought home a puppy once and Leo made me take it back the same day. Something about too much stress with two toddlers and a puppy. Then, years later, he brings home a miniature horse (Her name is Merrylegs). Go figure.
Once we moved here to Level Acres Lane, we acquired Rex, part collie and part bassett hound. He was three years old when we got him and lived to the age of 17. He was a good dog and was really our only "good" dog experience. Rex was friendly most of the time except when he got his annual buzz haircut in the summer. Hey, I never said I was good with clippers. Poor dog; he always looked so embarrassed when I got done with the haircut.
We also had Molly (Aaron's beagle pup) and Ty (a one year old boxer that needed a home). They both met their end on the road. Telling Aaron about Molly was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and not something I never want to do again.
Rico was our next dog. Part Westie, part beagle, he had wiry hair and a scruffy look about him. He was a funny little dog and liked to play with the neighbor's boxer. He got backed over by a truck and needed to go to the vet for repair. He actually coded on the operating table and got his heart massaged. After surviving all that, he just disappeared two winter's ago. We never found out what happened to him.
Adrienne had two sheep, Nellie and Emma, for a couple of years. They were friendly and actually were a part of local live Nativities at Christmas. The problem with sheep is that they eat everything green that grows, including my gardens. They would actually strip the lilacs and rose bushes bare up as high as they could reach.
Martha is my cat, a nice gray mama cat. I tried her as a house cat, but it just didn't work out. Too much attitude. Mine and hers. She is now a barn cat along with Kurt, Tigger, Sneakers, and her new litter of five (free to a good home). They like to congregate outside the front door or in the flower beds. Grrr.
Along the way we have also had a turtle named Olive, two anole lizards, miscellaneous tadpoles, tropical fish, and beta fish, and hamsters. Oh, and rabbits. We won't mention what happened to Zippers. Poor Zippers.
I am not a pet person. I like playing with other people's pets; I just haven't found the right match for me. Maybe there should be a pet/person matchmaker. I don't know what I'd end up with.
Who knows? We haven't tried a potbelly pig yet.
Love,
Dianne
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Chicks!
I walked into the house this morning after work and was greeted by an unusual aroma and the sound of little feet scratching. Oh, and chirping, lots of that too.
Yep, my kitchen has a box with what looked like about 16 fuzzy, yellow chicks, and 4 reddish colored ones. They were hard to count as they did not line up nicely in a row; rather, they kept running around each other, climbing in the water bowl, and chirping all the while.
They came in what appeared to be boxes similar to Chinese take-out. Shhh...don't tell them that. The fluffy yellows ones are for (gasp)...eating. The red ones are little Rhode Island Reds and will be egg layers. Those are my favorite ones.
They are funny to watch. Wherever the light goes, they follow. I just wonder how they can see anything other than sunspots before their beady little eyes. Don't they know it's not healthy to stare into a bright light? Tsk tsk tsk.
They came in what appeared to be boxes similar to Chinese take-out. Shhh...don't tell them that. The fluffy yellows ones are for (gasp)...eating. The red ones are little Rhode Island Reds and will be egg layers. Those are my favorite ones.
They are terribly cute right now and make me want to celebrate Easter all over again.
My mother may not feel the same way.
In fact, she may never visit again as long as there are chickens on the loose.
She had a BAD experience with a feathered friend as a child, and chickens do not rank high on her list of things she loves. In fact, they don't even make the list.
Don't worry Mom, we hope to have a coop of some kind for them. Believe me, I don't want them in the kitchen any longer than necessary.
As I am trying to get a picture of them facing me, they all turn as a little group and look the opposite way. I tried clucking like a mother hen to get them to look at me, but apparently I wasn't too effective. They all tried even harder to get into the corner away from me.
They are cute, aren't they? I wonder what I should call them...
Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee?
Laurel and Hardy?
Robin Hood and Little John?
Lucy and Ethel?
Lavern and Shirley?
Oh wait...I can't name the yellow ones. . . the eating ones. . . that would be weird.
As for the Rhode Island Reds. . .
I like Lucy and Ethel.
Love,
Dianne
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