Arwen's Review of Landrum's Country Store

My daughter Arwen went on her class field trip today at Landrum’s Country Store. They have a farm and a petting zoo. I wasn’t able to attend the trip with her so I decided I would ask her about it when she got home.  This is how the conversation went:

Me: How was your field trip today?

Arwen: Look at what I got from the field trip (while holding up a feather hair clip).

Me: Where did you get that?

Arwen: Aubrey’s mom bought them for the whole class. They were twenty five cents and she bought all of the class one.

Me: Wow, that’s cool.

Arwen: We saw a peacock and it spread its wings wide and we saw a big fat pig.

Me: What else did you see?

Arwen: I don’t remember.

Me: You don’t remember?

Arwen: Uh…we got on a ride.

Me: What kind of ride?

Arwen: A little tractor ride.

Me: Would you go back?

Arwen: Go back where?

Me: Go back to the farm?!

Arwen: Well, yea….I’m hungry.

The moral to this chronicle is some kids just don’t care about farms or the excitement of the trip. Arwen is one of those kids that live in the moment. If it isn’t happening at that second, she doesn’t give a flying flip. I’m sure someday she will come up to me and say, “What was the name of that place that Aubrey’s mom bought the class feathers?” and I will say, “Landrum’s Country Store,” and she will say, “Oh yea, I liked that place,” and smile.

 As parents sometimes we have to remember the things we take in through the eyes of our children aren’t as exciting to them as it is to us. We all get in an uproar when they take their first steps, poop in the potty the first time, and tie their shoes themselves for once. Some of us go to the extreme and document every time our child passes gas. These parents are the ones that have to have pictures of everything their child does for a scrapbook that weighs fifty pounds that they plan to give their son or daughter on their graduation or wedding day. My advice to those parents is whoa there Nelly. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but they don’t care, just like Arwen doesn’t now. I promise you they will not appreciate the eighteen to twenty five years of documenting their every move as you think they will. Save yourself some trouble and stick to the major moments; the chronicle moments that you learn from and enjoy.  Stop trying to get the perfect picture and take it like it is. Stop wasting time lining them up for a smiling picture when their crying and not wanting to do it. Stop getting angry when they don’t cooperate because they are messing up your picture, your memory. The key word there is YOUR. Once again, if they don’t care now odds are fifteen years from now they aren’t going to care then.  Today Arwen went without me on her trip and she was just fine. Had I went with her, yes I’m sure I would take a couple of pictures of her that will either never come off my phone or go in a scrapbook somewhere to never been seen again. It wouldn’t have mattered to take it because fifteen years from now I’m willing to bet that she’s still more worried about her snack.

These Are The Days

           There is nothing like waking up in the morning listening to the waves roll up on the shore with the smell of the salty air surrounding you. As you slowly open your eyes, a cool breeze blows through your open windows and the subtle call of gulls are heard   as they scramble after the sand crabs that scurry along the shore.  One more deep breath and you begin to slowly move your body from your bed and then it happens……..the alarm clock goes off, scares the baby lying next to you who immediately begins to wale. It seems to be the catalyst for how the rest of your morning goes. One child screams that you’re brushing their hair too hard as two teenage girls fight over the shower. Finally the bus arrives and the baby girl is still scrambling for her shoes when you shove her out the door with one shoe on and one in her hand as she runs toward the bus griping about how she’s tired of oranges for her snack. You barely have time to breath when you turn around and your eldest daughter hands you your grandson so that she can go pump a bottle for him. Meanwhile, your baby is cutting teeth as loudly as he can on the cold washcloth you gave him to chew on, since he despises pacifiers and teething rings.        

                Alas, the joys of parenting and grand-parenting.  Days like that are when you’re wishing for Calgon to take you away. Those are the chronicles you want to sweep under the rug. There is really only one thing you can do on days like that. You just keep breathing. Soon the babies will take a nap and you can clean up the mess that blew through town before the other kids left for school or you can sit down and watch the mess not clean itself. I know this because I have done it time and time again. Sometimes I have quoted the songs of Meatloaf. “Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back”   other times it is simply the most joyful moments that make it all worthwhile and that is when I’m reminded that the Calgon days are all worth it. Yesterday was one of those days. My husband and I went to check the blackberry patches in the woods behind our neighborhood. Unfortunately they are still green.  Liberty had been out of school sick with a sore throat. We met her as we came up the path. After my husband Sjhon gave her a good scolding for being out of the house and we walked halfway home, she coughed and grabbed her throat.

                Me: See I told you being outside when you’re sick makes it worse.

                Liberty: My throat hurts.

                Me: Maybe you need some soup.

                Liberty: Feel my throat. I think my anal glands are swollen.

                Me:  Liberty, you don’t have anal gland’s you’re not a dog. Do you mean your lymph nodes?

                Liberty: Whatever.

               

                Today on the other hand was one of those Calgon moments and all day I have found myself thinking about Libby’s non- existent anal glands and I smile. That is the key to it right there. When people comment on how they would go nuts with six kids, I just smile and say it can be crazy sometimes. All I know is if Liberty comes home today complaining about her throat, I will call the vet and make her an appointment.

Where To Begin.......

I have to say that it is nearly impossible to go through life raising perfect children. Scratch that. It IS impossible. When our children are born, as parents we picture them saying yes sir, no sir, yes ma'am, no ma'am, please, thank you, and you're welcome. We picture them helping the teacher out in class and knowing all of the answers. We see them in our minds as perfect little babies that grow up with manners to become successful individuals that travel the world and do the things that we as parents never got the chance to do. We picture those cute little babies laughing and gigging and knowing the answer to quantum physics questions by age five because let's face it, they're perfect.

Something happens however that we do not expect. Somewhere between their first twenty four hours of life and adulthood the world continues to spin and not bow at their arrival. Kings do not hault at their presence and the soundtrack to The Lion King isn't played when you introduce them to people the first time as it did for Simba. Within a few days to weeks you begin to realize your perfect baby may not be so perfect when he or she chooses not to sleep all night or have a cold. By age two, you as a parent are probably thinking you might have to take them to a child psychologist because something must be seriously wrong with them when they lie down in the middle of the store and kick and scream to the point you are sure security will be called, all because you, the terrible horrible parent, won't give in to the child who insists on wanting the five dollar box of cereal just because it has a picture of a dog. A dog that takes five UPC codes to get and isn't even in the box.....

You are not alone. We have all been there. Consider this your wake up call. Those little sweet babies all turn out the same. They are all one thing. Human. They are not perfect. My grandmother used to tell me that when children are little they step on your toes and when they are older they step on your hearts. Oh boy was she ever right. Imagine having three kids in a gifted class and one that was held back in kindergarten because she couldn't read. Later you find out she has a learning disability and you wonder as a parent what you did wrong. The answer is simple. Nothing. It's just the way things are sometimes. Imagine being the parent of a sixteen year old who was always an honor roll student, a member of the Air Force JROTC, and trusts you completely to the point of responsibly asking for birth control, just to find out she can't take pills because of the hormones. She maturely asks for condoms. As a parent you are proud of her for trying so hard to be responsible. Unfortunately one breaks and you find yourself taking her to her first OB appointment and you become a grandmother at thirty three. It did not mean you were a bad parent. You can only lead a horse to drink and sometimes the horse has to poop and crap happens. It's life.

Then there are the moments that are priceless. The moments you wouldn't take anything for.

Me: Can anybody tell me who’s on the two dollar bill?

Serenity (Age10): Andrew Jackson

Me: No that would be a twenty. I’ll give you a hint. He was a white man with a black kid.

Liberty (age8): Michael Jackson?

Me: I don’t even know what to say to that.

Those moments are the ones that make it all worthwhile.  That same disappointment you felt when that sixteen year old told you she was pregnant goes clear out the window when you hold that grandson for the first time and say to him, "You're the best Chronicle yet."

My Point Is......

 As a mother of six children, I have to say that everyone on the planet has an opinion of how to raise kids. Everyday someone is either giving me some kind of advice on what works to make sure that my children become proper upstanding citizens. I will go far enough to say that it has been said time and time again that it takes a village to raise a child. In my case apparently it takes a metropolis.

 The idea of The Hair Dye Chronicles came from my ex-husband who used to joke about someday writing a book about the exploits of me and my eldest daughter fighting constantly over dying her hair different colors on a monthly basis. It became a joke with us every time one of our children did something that made us laugh or shocked us to the point of disbelief. We would say to them, "You just made The Chronicles." Neither of us actually wrote any of it down, but there were several events that will always be permanently scarred into my brain as either the funniest moments in history or near death experiences. Finally, a few years ago I did start writing down a few and with it came a realization that I could actually tell people my experiences myself.

Now I'm not here to tell anyone how to raise their kids because it drives me nuts for people to do that to me. It's almost as bad as when I tell someone I have six kids and they ask, "Don't you know what causes that?"
(Yes, I am completely aware. Thank you for the gesture into my sexual life.) I am here to tell how I raise MY kids and how my own children have taught me what being a parent is about. I hope you will find some enjoyment from my everyday chaos. It is completely maddening at times and completely rewarding at others. This blog will have lots of quoted moments from my own children's mouth as well as some other people. I swear on all that's real in the world that everything you read is completely truthful, even if it sounds absurd..........