Jr. High Graduate: AUSTIN R. CROSBY

Austin is the handsome lad in the red tie.

For most, graduating from junior high school is not that big of a deal.  You show up every day (in the kitchen for homeschoolers like mine) and you do the work.  Then BAM! You graduate.  Austin told me in January that he “didn’t want to do that stupid graduation thing.”  “Fine,” I replied.  And thought that it would be painful to force him… and relieved that we didn’t have to go through it either.  THEN, Rick and I were accepted on the AFHE Board (AZ Families for Home Education) … and our tune changed.  We found out that AFHE puts on a junior high graduate recognition ceremony at the Phx. Civic Center…. and being board members, we thought we should give it a go.  So we signed up Austin and didn’t tell him for more than two months.  We didn’t want to torture him for more than seven days.

Yes, that’s the rat face.  As it happened, the graduation was on Friday night so we told Austin that he would be participating on the Sunday night right before the ceremony.  I was a little surprised by his nonchalant response.  I suspect that he was secretly disappointed that we didn’t do any of that stupid graduation stuff.  The ceremony was first class with over 60 grads. Even the speaker was good! Then we had an open house for Austin and invited all those who have participated in his life.  A great time was had by all.

The little trophy on the right is from Austin dominating in a marshmallow eating contest.  Makes a mama proud.  Speaking of being a mama, when my first homeschool child graduated from junior high, I felt like I had succeeded.  I had successfully guided a child through elementary and junior high school and most of my hair had not been pulled out of my head by my own hands.  I distinctly remember congratulating the other moms in the crowd.  We did it!  This time, however, it was much more an example of God’s mercy and love …. getting THIS child through eight years of home instruction.  Austin didn’t learn to read until he was eight years old and the only reason he even started THEN was because his younger brother started before him.  It wasn’t for my lack of trying either.  In his kindergarten year, I checked back through my daily plans and I had shown him the letter F 67 days in a row… and there was no recognition AT ALL.  My husband, the principal of our homeschool, was called in at that time and I handed in my resignation.  He refused to accept it and I had to have a parent-teacher conference in the bathroom mirror.  I prayed like all good homeschooling moms pray, “Dear God, Don’t let me wreck this kid. Please.”

An amazing occurence transpired in spite of a tragedy. When Austin was in third grade (and doing grade 5 math with me reading aloud all the word problems to him) my husband, the principal of our homeschool, separated his Achille’s tendon and was off work for three months.  Being homeschoolers with no strings attached, we went on a “21 National Parks“ field trip of the western side of the U.S.A. from April to June.  We did take a bit of math with us.  We did listen to multiple audio books.  We did chart the moon’s cycles. We did see AWESOME sights that God had made for us to behold.  But no teaching was forthcoming for three months.  Just like God to show that Austin’s learning had NOTHING to do with me…. it was on that trip that Austin learned to read.

As homeschool parents, we chose this path for training our kids in Godliness and character development. Those were more important to us than learning how to line up, raise your hand, ask to go to the bathroom, and grammar, quite frankly.  We have been rewarded by God filling in the gaps where we have fallen short.  God gave us these kids to impact for eternity and it’s a pleasure and challenge to spend most of their early years with them.

Congratulations, Austin.  We are so proud of you, dude.

 

That was a RECORD!

Two weeks without blogging.  Sorry, faithful readers.  Summer has hit us hard and our schedule has been happily full.  Today marked the end of my first six days of having six children in my care.  Yes, we acquired two extra little girls, ages 9 and 7.  Nora loved having “sisters” to play with and argue with.  :o)  The extras went home today and although they were VERY easy and enjoyable, I’m breathing easier tonight.

Remember my bull-riding entertainment from last year???  Well, the three of us cowgirls got our spurs on last night and hit the Buffalo Chip Saloon again.  THIS time it was for country line dancing lessons…. which turned out to be couples only non-line dancing.  So we sat and chatted and solved most of the world’s problems over diet Cokes.  We also decided to show up again with our partners, so we could participate.  Never a dull moment in the Old West.

Just when I think things are slowing down, another unexpected blip on the radar surfaces.  This weekend starts General Council for the Assemblies of God and it’s right here in our backyard. (That’s because Phoenix hotels and convention centers are CHEAP in the blazing summertime!)  So we have dear friends from aeons ago coming to see us.  Fun with a capital F.

My only “creative” goal this summer was to paint the living room.  It’s been the same ugly brown color for six long years, and I didn’t like the color the day we painted it on the walls.  So BAM!  Time for some renovating!  BUT…. my illustrious plans have been delayed by a sequence of household items breaking…. like the ice maker (not a totally big deal), the vacuum (kind of a big deal), the printer (BIG deal if I’m wanting to print coupons), two toilets (BIG FAT HAIRY DEAL!) and last but not least at all… the washing machine (Biggest deal of all… well, only because we still have one working toilet.)  So, my paint is still sitting in the store waiting impatiently for me to swoop it up.  Some day.  Soon. (I hope.)

Also read The Help this summer.  A great story with laughs and tears abounding.  I can’t wait for the movie in August!!!!!  This is my first time reading the book before the movie comes out.  I’m stoked.

Over and out.  I promise it won’t be another two weeks!  Sheesh!  How flakey.

The Birthday Girl

It was another round of firsts for our little Colombian princess… first birthday party… first birthday cake… first birthday gifts… first birthday decorations… ALL for her!  It was surprising to me that her birth was not celebrated in the foster home because Colombians celebrate EVERYTHING!  She said they did sing Happy Birthday, but that was it… for everyone in the house.  Strange.

Nora has been counting down the days to her 8th birthday for over a month… without understanding the numbers above 14.. well, at least not in English.  She did have an idea of what to expect because we’ve celebrated six big events since she’s been home, but none of them were for kids.  I wonder if she thought we only had parties for ages 16 and up?? When I questioned her for birthday requests, her only one was, “Can I have a cake with my name on it?”  SURE YOU CAN!  We went right down to the local bakery and ordered a Tinkerbell cake with N O R A written across the top!  The last time any of my kids got a store-bought cake with their name on it was when they turned one and we got free first birthday cakes from Safeway! 

We had a family party on her actual birthday with cupcakes.  She was darling.  She smiled so big, I thought she might pop as we sang happy birthday!  Of course we make it really exciting by yelling WOOOO in between each line.  This coming Sunday is her party (with her cake that says NORA) for her friends… we’ve been waiting for some of them to get back from vacation.  I’ll post more pictures then.

We are so blessed to have Nora in our family!  So blessed to share God’s love with her!  So blessed to have her lighting up our home and lives!

My Step Grandmother

Recently I finished reading a book about women who wrote the stories of their lives.  It made me realize that I’m the only one who has the memories of my grandparents… from my unique perspective.  My brother’s view is from the male side of life (read: missing all the important details)… and my baby sister’s is from years later after advanced technology. (Not really, but it sounds good.)  My mind was flooded with warm memories of my Canadian Grandma’s house…. that I decided were blog worthy.  You are welcome to stroll down memory lane with me.

The first house I remember my grandparents living in was in Vancouver, B.C. and the exterior of the house was covered with tiny pieces of blue, white and green glass and bitty black rocks.  There was an occasional red piece as well.  I was fascinated by the colors, and frankly, the thought of anyone gluing shiny little gems to the outside of a structure.  How it sparkled in the sun! I admit that I picked off a few and kept them hidden from anyone.  It was akin to discovering sea glass, free for the taking, but I guessed it belonged to someone and was surely stealing.

The jewel-covered house was two-story and had a long, dark wooden staircase that my brother and I flew down sitting on square velvet cushions.  The house smelled of furniture polish…. always…. possibly why the ride down the stairs was so rapid!  The livingroom, with the highfalutin television set, was at the bottom of the stairs across the hall, behind wooden pocket doors.  Those were the first pocket doors I had ever seen, and I thought they were pretty nifty… all hiding like that.

I slept with my baby sister in a single white metal bed, in a tiny room off the kitchen.  A cream-colored chenille bedspread hugged us all night long. The room had hardwood floors and a strange white and blue pot with a lid that sat suspiciously under our bed.  I never knew what it was for.  I never asked.  I figured it out YEARS later in an antique store.  AHA!

There were young men who were always hanging around Grandma’s kitchen.  They seemed old to my 7 or 8 years, but were probably in their young twenties. I remember them sweeping the back porch and eating meat sandwiches at her table.  One spoke funny and I was enthralled trying to translate his foreign tongue.  I never knew where he came from.  I never asked.  YEARS later I learned that his name was Willy and he was from Scotland.  That was also the first time I saw a tattoo up close….an anchor and I couldn’t quite figure out for the life of me why the guy drew on his hairy arm.  I never knew who those men were.  I never asked.  YEARS later I discovered that Grandmother kept service men in the house who needed room and board.

Next door was a tiny house, also covered in the beautiful glass that called to me, where my “Great Aunt” lived. I don’t think she was related but we acted like it. I thought of them as the big house and the baby house.  She made me little butter and jam sandwiches and cut off the crusts at her tiny kitchen table with only two chairs.  She’s the only elderly woman who ever cut off crusts that I knew of. So wasteful, but I loved it.  Plants grew everywhere in her little house….a green paradise. Vines traipsed across the curtain rods and hugged the lamp poles.  Sort of jungle-ish, but so natural and welcoming. Great Aunt had a garden that she planted with her own hands.  This impressed me beyond measure!  I can still taste the green peas, fresh from the pods that I picked …. when I wasn’t picking glass off their houses.

Individually paper-wrapped mandarin oranges were introduced to me at Grandmother’s glass house.  And seedless… heaven-sent.  I loved them…. truly.  Still do.  That is where I tasted ginger ale for the first time too.  Absolutely splendid!

As a kid you don’t really understand all that is going on to keep a house full of people running.  I never asked where our food came from.  YEARS later I heard that my Grandmother bought discounted surplus groceries from B.C. Hydro, only allowable because my Grandfather had worked there.  She got boxes and boxes of canned goods that she put on the table for the service men and the other people who lived with them.  People who “just needed a place and some love,” as I’ve heard it put.

I’m the one on the OUTSIDE???

Growing up in the 60s and 70s, I was a fortunate kid who had both sets of grandparents until my teens.  Most of our family vacations (in the station wagon with the 8-track tape of the singing Statesmen) were spent driving to and from one of my grandparents’ homes.  My maternal grandparents lived in White Rock, B.C. a block from the beach and they had a trampoline in the back yard and wild blackberry vines that grew down the hill from their home.  All of those were important items on my list as a kid.  They lived in a four-story yellow house that stood out like Big Bird when we were on the beach looking toward land.  The reason they lived in a four-story, gargantuan home was because my Grandmother took care of 10 women who had special needs, all who lived in the top floors of the canary-colored house. Grandma and Grandpa lived in the lower floor in two cramped bedrooms, a kitchen and livingroom.  I can’t remember where we slept when we stayed there, but I have fond memories of that house.

The Ladies ate at a large diningroom table in a window-laden room facing the ocean on the second floor.  It was a ways from the kitchen, where my grandmother cooked for all 17 of us inhabitants.  We ate at a squishy kitchen table that was at the back of the house in a nook with windows across the far wall.  Our view was the driveway and the neighbor’s fence. The table was formica with a gray and white pattern of triangles, and there were secured benches all the way around the table.  No chairs.  There was no room for chairs.  I felt like a sardine lined up with my siblings and sometimes my cousins. And I loved it.

The day we arrived, Grandma gave each of us a see-through pill bottle with a white snap-on lid with our name written on it in a rainbow-shaped curve. It was for vacation allowance.  Each and every day she handed out a quarter to me and my brother and sister.  The coins fit perfectly in the little bottles. I have always relished things that fit perfectly.  True to form, my brother would save his coins all week so on the last day he could carefully purchase a yo-yo, or a rubber coin purse that squeezed open or a candy bar.  I lavishly spent my quarter every day.  On junk candy.  And I was okay with that. Because the next morning, for at least 20 minutes, there would be another shiny quarter that would fit perfectly into the bottom of my pill bottle that said L-I-N-D-A in the rainbow-shaped curve.

There were “other” cousins that also came to Grandma’s yellow beach house on Buena Vista Drive.  Three girls, close to the same ages as us, but we weren’t “real” cousins.  We spent a Christmas or two together when we were very young, eating at Grandma’s, but we never swapped gifts.  I never gave it much thought but somehow felt sorry for them because they weren’t Grandma’s “real” grandchildren.  I considered them on the outside.

In my 16th year of life, I came to the realization that the Grandmother that I loved, was married to my Grandfather…. after my maternal Grandmother passed away years previously.  She was my STEP-Grandmother.  But how could that be?  She was not like Cinderella’s Step-anything!  She loved us and fed us and gave us vacation allowance.  THEN I realized that I was not a “real” grandchild…. I was on the outside!  The three girls were on the INSIDE! That shocked me for days.  It was my first real-life experience knowing unconditional non-blood related love.  We were family and that was all that mattered. And I loved it.

More tomorrow, on my beloved Grandmother.

Can you say Haboob?

Our re-entry to Phoenix, after a cool and lovely trip to Northern California, was not only welcomed by the largest haboob (sand storm) in recent history… but HUMID heat.  Whatupwitdat?  It’s supposed to be a dry heat.  We’re famous for DRY heat.  We got into our van on the day after we arrived home and the thermometer was burning the number 118 into my sweaty eyeballs.  Nora, my 7-year-old, who is experiencing her first Phoenix summer, whined, “Why couldn’t we just stay in Tahoe?”  I wondered the same thing!  Dry 107 is NOT the same as humid 107.  Not even close.

Photo credit to Dan Z. http://www.flickr.com/photos/55358384@N04/5907025323/

My plan to have the garage cleared for my van’s shady shelter through the scorching months has not yet materialized.  It’s too hot to clean the garage.  Why didn’t I think of this in January???  I went out there quickly at 7:00 am and analyzed the situation.  Biggest obstacle: city-certified rolling trash AND recycle cans.  They are huge… and stinky on occasion.  All the other junk (hockey nets, weight bench, bicycles, hockey equipment, kayaks, huge alternative fuel gas tank, shop vac, etc.) can be put on the unseen side of the house in the backyard.  But the non-attractive rolling trash receptacles have to be accessed on different days and dragged to the road.  “Put them behind your side gate,” is the logical answer.  But we have Houdini, the escape dog, as a beloved pet.  Not only is our side gate double supported with plywood on the back (because of Houdini breaking the slats to escape) but there are cinderblocks on both sides of the gate, so Houdini won’t push through.  There is a 4×4 buried in the ground under the gate as well, to hinder dig-through escape attempts.  Houdini is only 11 pounds.  But she is a wily and surprising 11 pounds.

So, my plan is to keep the cans in the front yard on the side of the house that is least visible from the road.  AND, get this, put a huge pot with a prolific plant in front of them.  We have Nazis on our HOA board, but I think this might work.  Afterall, we haven’t received a letter from them in at least two months now.  The letters have come regularly… for six years…. every few months… for basketball hoops… wrecked cars in the driveway…. cars parked in the street… weeds…. garbage cans NOT behind the gate… and my personal favorite, 50 pink flamingos standing in our yard.  Hey, the pot-with-prolific-plant shield is worth a try so I can get the van in the garage.  I’ll keep you posted.

Not According to the Plan

Yes, we were vacationing in Tahoe, when BAM! our plans took an unexpected turn.  Without clear warning I was thrust (happily, I might add) into a Curb Appeal mixed with Trading Places real life scenario.  A five bedroom home needed to be decorated so it could be a rental property… and I willingly signed up for the inexperienced decorator position.  This was like a dream come true for me…. shopping with someone else’s money and then setting up each room.  I have NEVER shopped until I’ve dropped until this last week.  We browsed, bought and brought home six Suburban loads … and let me just brag on my car packing abilities for a moment here.  When it looked like the car was full, NO!  I still squeezed in two bedside tables, two rugs and a giant lighthouse.  All my years of playing Tetris paid off big time!

Tomorrow we start our journey from California home to the sweltering heat of Arizona, and I’m sad for more than that reason alone.  I do not get the opportunity to see the finished product.  There are still two rooms to set up and carpets to unroll, but I’m hoping for pictures of the finished product.  Here are two sneak previews of rooms:

Several important concepts were learned through this decorating extravaganza that I feel compelled to share with you at this time.  #1. Buy an iPad and keep a list of what you need for each room and what you have purchased.  By the third day in the fourth TJ Maxx, we couldn’t remember how many single sheets we bought, or if we still needed neutral bath mats.  #2.  Pace yourself.  Five straight days of shopping is extremely tiring.  #3.  Always get two carts when you enter the store.  You will inevitably need them if you don’t.  #4.  An extra lamp can always be utilized.  #5.  Adding black or dark brown to each room gives it a grounded feeling.  #6.  Too much matchy matchy is too much matchy matchy. #7. Pick a color scheme for the whole house.  That way you can move items from room to room as you see fit. 

See how helpful this was for me to do this before you have to??!!??  Whew!  Now I need a vacation.