I’ve always thought that the 4th of July marked the half-way point for summer. I guess I was wrong, because the 4th is next week, and there’s no way summer is half way gone. I’ll not be having it, laddy boy.
I’ve been reading historical fiction this summer. I’ve been hanging out in Scotland. Do ye know of the book “The Outlanders”? Dinna mind me new Scottish accent, lasses. Canna be helped. Tis a very good book indeed.
Wow. I’m like a sponge. I just read books like this and then I know a whole new language. Crazy how my mind works. It isn’t average.
I feel so freakin’ sentimental lately. Blahh! I hate it. My eyes well up over nothing. It’s all this time racing past me. I try to grab hold of some of it, and make it stay in place; I can’t manage it.
Writing helps. Writing is a way to memorialize simple moments in my life that would otherwise be lived and quickly forgotten. I like to remember ordinary things. Ordinary things are my favorite.
Pictures help too. I recently read an article about all the things you should do with your family when your child is a senior. One of the suggestions was taking a family portrait. I haven’t been good about formal pictures with our family. We’ve only taken a couple.
Here’s one of our first family pictures. Scott always teases me about this picture. We were in my sister and brother-in-law’s wedding. Things sort of came together for me that day; I looked pretty fancy. It bugs Scott that I don’t have one of the kids on my lap in this picture. He says he thinks I grabbed Zeke by the ear and pulled him out of the way so the kid wouldn’t block the camera’s view of me.
C’mon, Scott. You know I’m not like that. But, let’s be honest. You think one little kid is gonna stop the camera from capturing all that beauty?
I don’t know where Scott comes up these crazy ideas.
Just to keep me humble, our next family picture captured my real essence. In that photo, I looked like wet dog with a side of hairball. That whole picture taking experience was a fiasco. I won’t bore you with the story now. But, just in case you think I’m exaggerating, I’ve got proof. It was misting/raining that day. My hair was down, all nice and pretty. By the time we took our picture, the only thing I could do was put all those wet strings plastered to my head into a pony tail. What I know now is that it really doesn’t matter what I looked like. I just want to remember what all the other nice people in this photo looked like then:
This article I read said that now is the time for the family portrait. Once your senior graduates, the family dynamic will never be the same. Capture the moment while you can. So, we did.
I called a professional photographer. I had this discussion with her about scheduling an appointment around wrestling tournaments. I explained to the photographer that it was likely my boys would have a black eye, or some other facial trauma, if we didn’t pick the right day. She pretended like we were having a normal conversation.
I had to call the photographer the day before our pictures. I told her the boys did not have any facial bruising. Eddie just had a smallish scab on his nose. Oh, and Eddie was on crutches. Eddie tore a hip muscle in wrestling practice. The photographer thought photshopping crutches out of the picture might be a challenge.
We had the pictures taken anyway. We worked around the crutches. Picture taking can be fun. I was really well behaved. I didn’t shove any children out of my spotlight.
Right now, the five people in my family have fewer opportunities than ever to be all in the same place at the same time. When we are together, I sure enjoy it. We talk and laugh a wee bit more than y’ may believe. Oops. There I go again. Being bilingual is a harder than you think. I keep having to remind myself to use English.
Eddie hurt his hip three days before our pictures. We hadn’t talked about his injury much. Eddie gets a bad wrap sometimes from all the members in our family. I mean, most of the time he deserves it. The kid can eat a new bag of chocolate chips in an hour. But, Eddies’s got some things going for him too. One thing we all know about Eddie is that he can take a hit. Eddie does not complain. He doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t bring up his troubles in conversation. He doesn’t do anything other than lay low, and wait for things to get better. I guess Eddie has had a lot of practice at that.
On the way home from picture taking we were finally finding the time to ask Eddie about his injury. It happened during wrestling practice. Eddie felt a pop in his hip. The guy he was wrestling put Eddie on his back and said, “Fight back, Eddie!”
Eddie said, “I can’t.” Then, Eddie army crawled over to the wall and waited for practice to end.
Eddie’s wrestling practice is a 45 minute drive from our house. Eddie said he left practice without being able to put any weight on his leg. It was night time, and raining pretty hard. He hopped on one leg out to the van. He lost balance in the parking lot, and tried putting weight on his injured leg. He dropped to the ground with the effort, and found himself laying in a large puddle. Eddie was close enough to the van to crawl the rest of the way. He got to the passenger side door, opened it, and crawled over the passenger seat to the driver’s side. He drove home using his left foot.
Eddie casually shared this story on our way home from picture taking. I thought this was a crappy story. Why didn’t he call us from practice so we could come and get him? Why didn’t he tell us this story sooner?
We were real sorry to hear about what happened to Eddie, but we were enjoying being together while we heard it. There’s something good about having teenagers. With teenagers, there are moments when they are at their best, and you are at your best, and your realize you might have actually created your very best friends for life. Great idea, God. Thank you! We had several moments during the evening where we could not stop laughing.
Later in the night, Scott was trying to text a fellow coach using the voice command option on his phone. Scott was just rambling into the phone to test the technology. He wanted to see how it worked. At the same time he was doing that, we were laying around asking ourselves if Reggie farted. I asked Scott if he farted, and so he spoke into his phone and said something like, “They think I farted. I didn’t.”
I yelled into the phone, “You farted. You stink.”
Then, Zeke yelled, “Send.”
Did you know that if you tell your voice command text to send, it will send? Scott told us the message sent. The message to his peer said, “Hey coach, do you know what time practice is and they think I farted. I didn’t. You farted you stink.”
At first we didn’t believe him that it sent. Then, he showed us. Oh my Gosh. You couldn’t stop us then. We were gasping for air, we were laughing so hard, and so long.
Scott had the last laugh though. He told us the message didn’t really send to the coach. Scott is smarter than that. He was practicing voice texting by sending the message to Zeke’s phone. We should have known better. Scott was awfully calm for just having sent an important text to a respected peer about whether or not he farted.
I just have one more important thing to tell you. I’m giving long skirts a try. I know I’m a little late to the party. But, I’ve never been accused of being a trend setter. I’m okay with this.
I just haven’t been on board with the long dress/skirt thing, because I felt like I would look less hip, and more like a member of the Duggar family.
I bought this long black skirt. I think I like it. I sort of vacillate between feeling like I’m fashion forward, and thinking I look like I should be offering Holy Communion. No disrespect. Priests dress totally right for their line of work.
At any rate, I like this long skirt because I think there’s little chance all that fabric could get caught in the waist band without me noticing. If you read my blogs, you feel me on this. If not, I won’t be opening that wound. I’m only just now beginning to heal.