Tag: grandchildren

Gator in the House

I succesfully rendezvoused with our son Jason in Jackson, Mississippi, and brought our grandkids, Dominique (13), and Jackson (10), home with me to Havana, Florida. No sooner had we gotten unpacked than Dominique headed to the lake with her fishing pole, and Jackson suited up to ride his minibike.

   
 

I had a glass of wine and handed over supervisory duties to Studly Doright, aka Poppa.

Dominque caught a fish right off the bat.

 
Prompting Jackson to come join in the fun:

  
And then our resident gator made an appearance:

 

 
I believe I’ll go have another glass of wine within the safe confines of Doright Manor and pray that no one falls prey to our reptile friend. 

Peace, people.

The Grandkids are Coming! The Grandkids are Coming!

Saturday (tomorrow!) I am meeting our son in Jackson, Mississippi, and bringing our oldest granddaughter, Dominique (13), and our youngest grandson, Jackson (10), home with me for two whole weeks! 

Eeeee! Time spent with the grands is the best.

I have a list of fun stuff to do while they’re with me in Havana, Florida, including trips to the beach, to the water park in Valdosta, Georgia, and to the wonderful Tallahassee Museum. Plus we’ll fish off of the dock in our backyard and maybe play Pokemon Go! I see exhaustion in my future.  

The blog might take a backseat for two weeks, but surely I’ll have time to add some pictures of our adventures to keep me in the habit of posting daily. I have a few posts queued up, as well.

Now I need to go freshen the bedding in the guest rooms and make sure my stock of snacks is sufficient for two hungry kids.

So excited! Peace, people!

We saw the kids in May when they were forced to sit still for a photo.

Saint Helen’s Birthday Bash

Studly Doright, the love of my life, was raised by an extraordinary woman who I’ve dubbed Saint Helen. Last week Studly and I traveled to the Texas panhandle to join in the celebration of Saint Helen’s 80th birthday.

The event, held at the Senior Citizen’s Center in Hereford, Texas, on Sunday afternoon was grand, with well over a hundred people in attendance. I turned to one of my children as I observed Helen greeting yet another guest and said, “You’re going to need to hire folks to come to my 80th.” 

I believe said child muttered something about there being no way I’d make it to 80 before dutifully responding, “Sure, Mom!”

Eighty is only two decades away for me, so I better start being nicer to people. Dammit. 

Back to Saint Helen, though…I took a great many photos and while most of my followers are not among her friends I hope you’ll indulge me. She really is a terrific person and the very best mother-in-law imaginable. 

 

This wonderful cake was made of cupcakes with a layer of icing covering them to make it appear like a regular sheet cake.
 
 
Helen, on the right, with her childhood friend Billy Tobe and his wife, Louise
 
My daughter, her middle daughter, and I arranged all of the flowers for the event. Not bad for three novices. 
Daughter Ashley created this arrangement for a memory table.
  
This creation on the reception table was mine.
   

My lovely 11-year-old granddaughter, McKayla took charge of the flowers on the refreshment table.

There was much laughter, tons of hugs, and general merriment all afternoon.   
Saint Helen’s friend, Leona
    
Father Tony bearing gifts of homemade sauerkraut and store bought water guns.
  
Monsignor Bloom with Saint Helen
  
    
Friend Annette.
  
Cousin Leighton.
 
 
Saint Helen with Studly Doright

 
Studly and I with Saint Helen and our children and grandchildren.
 

Two of the great grandkids kung fu fighting. No one was injured in this battle.
  
All of the great grandkids who could be present. Two had to leave early and one missed the celebration due to circumstances beyond his 3-year-old control.

 
My five grandbabies. Nothing makes me happier than having them all in one place.
I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate than with this bunch. 

Peace, people!  

 

  
 

Born a Ramblin’ (Wo)man

After a week watching over our Illinois grandchildren I’m back on the road. The three children, ages 13, 11, and three, were fun to look after while their parents enjoyed a much-needed second honeymoon.  

 

A wintery view of the Mississippi River from the Illinois side.
 
 But Studly Doright and I live an intensely laid back life–no rush or bustle, and going from that to getting three active kids ready for school in the mornings and into their respective beds at an appropriate time each night was a shock to my delicate system. I’m exhausted. 

I’m headed now to Hereford, Texas, where my lovely mother-in-law, Saint Helen, resides. This evening I’m staying in Emporia, Kansas, having fallen short of the halfway point between Rapids City, Illinois, and Hereford. I had to stop and take a nap at a rest stop this afternoon and that put me behind schedule. I HATE being behind schedule! 

Plus, I’ve come down with a head cold, so I’m sitting on my hotel bed, watching American Idol and struggling to breathe. In a few minutes I’m going to take a large dose of Tylenol extra strength liquid nighttime cold medicine and hope that my friend, Insomnia, doesn’t purloin my sleep. 

 Hopefully tomorrow will be a better travel day. In the meantime, here’s a little Allman Brothers’ tune to inspire us all.

http://youtu.be/68X8o0S7vJc
Peace and quiet, people!

Baby Sitting?

Pondering the deeper questions of existence today as I watch over my daughter’s three children.  Primarily, why do they call it Baby Sitting when Sitting hardly comes into play? 

Better this activity should be called Baby Following or Baby Running or Baby Exhausting instead.

  
Above, a rare moment of baby sitting as the youngest grandchild presents each of her princesses to me with a colorful introduction. “Actually,” she explains, holding one tiny figure, “This is Princess Tiana, and she is very beautiful. Notice her colorful dress.”

I’ve become quite adept at oohing and aahing. Perhaps I’m a Baby Ooh-er!

Peace, People!

On The Road My Friends

At some point this morning I will have departed from Doright Manor to take a trip of epic, dare I say Odyssean, proportions. Having packed my bags with everything from winter boots and a parka to capris pants and flip flops I should surely be prepared for any eventuality.

My first destination is a point north of Nashville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. From there I’m bound for our daughter’s home in Rapids City, Illinois, where I will be baby sitter-in-chief for my daughter’s three children while the parents go to cavort in the bright sun of a Mexican beach.

  
  
After a week in Illinois I’ll head south to the Texas panhandle, the place that no matter where on earth I roam will always be home. I’ll stay with the lovely Saint Helen who gave birth to Studly Doright and hopefully get to commune with the rest of the panhandle-dwelling Noyes bunch. 

  
Once they’ve chased me out of town with torches and pitchforks I’m off to Dallas to spend a night with our son if we can get our schedules to sync. Then it’s on to Houston, that most intimidating city, for a couple of nights with the oldest of my two younger brothers and his wife. They’re taking me and Studly’s eldest (she’d say prettiest) sister to a big event. I’m sure I’ll blog about it afterwards. If I’m still capable, that is. 

  
  
I have another event in mind for the Houston stay, but I’ll save that for another post, as well. 

When my brother finally kicks me out of his home I’ll begin working my way back to Doright Manor. Somewhere on that stretch of road is a wonderful little outlet mall that’s been calling my name for awhile now.

  
I’ve been writing like a mad woman to stock my blog with pieces to post daily during my trip. I’m sure there will be times I can post something from the road, but just in case I can’t, the blog must, and will, go on! 

Any prayers, blessings, positive thoughts, etc., offered up for my safe travels will be greatly appreciated. And as always, peace, people.

Hail to the Beach

Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Sudden Shifts

You’re at the beach with some friends and/or family, enjoying the sun, nibbling on some watermelon. All of a sudden, within seconds, the weather shifts and hail starts descending from the sky. Write a post about what happens next.

Part I

A perfect day:
picnic lunch
followed by
a nap on a
blanket covering
sun-warmed dunes.
Toes dipped in
surf by frolicking
grandchildren on
moist shoreline sand,
while doting adults
watch in vigilance.
Waves resignedly
fail in their quest
to overtake dunlin
despite their
best lapping efforts.

 Part II

Clouds gathered,
rolling in on
gusts of frigid air,
sharp precursors of
coming attractions.
Urgent warnings
called out, squealing
kids for once take
heed, scampering for
cover beneath a
blanket anchored
by sturdy adults.
A barrage of hailstones
direct from cumulonimbus’
towers batter those
human tent stakes
for an endless minute.

  

Part III

As quickly as it
began the storm is spent.
Jubilant children,
no worse for the onslaught,
race back to the
foam for reunion
with the salt, and
the sun, and the sand.
Bemused grownups
examine their own
bruises, shrug
and move forward,
back to lifeguarding.
It’s what they
do best.

 

Greeting card photo by Brian Mollenkopf.
 

Peace, people!

All Fun and Games

  
Our housekeeper came on the 24th, and Doright Manor was spotless by the time she left: Tiles gleamed, faucets sparkled, and countertops shone. Studly Doright and I enjoyed Christmas Day and Boxing Day in a clean castle. Then the grandchildren arrived, along with the jolly mess that accompanies them everywhere they roam.

Within minutes of the kids’ arrival at midnight on Sunday the house looked like a violent windstorm had blown through. Suitcases exploded flinging clothing hither and yon, chairs that do not normally recline somehow morphed into loungers, and our cabinets were emptied of anything edible. 

And this was all before the gifts were opened. Once that occurred, Doright Manor disappeared beneath acres of brightly colored wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. There might’ve been actual books, gadgets, and toys in the pile, I’m just not sure they’ll ever be located. 

Thankfully the weather here in the Florida panhandle has been perfect for exploring the outdoors this week. The kids spent hours riding the mini-bike and motorcycle that Studly (a.k.a. Poppa) fixed up for them in the weeks before their arrival. The property surrounding the manor provided a perfect track for our budding bikers.

   
 And we spent a couple of hours learning basic gun safety.

   
 A prodigious amount of tree chopping took place, as well.

  
In other words, we tried to keep them outside as much as possible. 

The crew headed home on New Year’s Day leaving behind a trail of detritus and memories. The house might look like we’ve lost a rousing game of Jumanji, but it was worth every second.

Peace, people.

BBs and Grandsons

  
some days are
for relaxing
for doing nothing
at all except
maybe climbing
skinny trees
and shooting
bottles with
a pump action bb
gun, making up
rules as we go
along, like
every time we
shoot, but miss,
we get to take
one giant step
forward, but if
we hit the target,
(an empty creme soda
bottle) we have to
walk backwards two
baby steps and
continue shooting
until the bottle
is decimated.
sometimes we have
to dig holes whilst
waiting on an adult
to drink another
bottle of soda for
the next go round.

  

Waiting On Grandchildren

Grandchildren are
life changers,
deal sealers
harbingers of better
days to come,
like spring’s first
robin.
Waiting for their
promised arrival
with countless
pacings to the
windowpane
curtains pushed aside
every crunch
on the drive,
each distant 
chirping,
waxing then waning in
doppler-tuned ears.
And then a glimpse,
a hush
and a rush of
excitement.
Hold still
robins.
Stay awhile.