Told ya'

The cuteness is so epic (as the February Baby would say) that I decided I just couldn't wait another minute. Here are a couple of choice photos that I found in my treasure trove. Both from 2001.

The May Baby.

 

 The February and September Babies.

A Thought...

Here is one of those observations that were the reason I started a blog...things I think and want to say out loud, but that are so narcissistic or Nelson-centric that I know the Facebook world would not appreciate.

Contemplated Facebook Status Update:
"I have been looking through old photos for Ella's school time line project and I have been reminded that my babies were the cutest, best, and most beautiful babies ever, ever, ever in the whole wide world!"

I did not post that. I came here to say it. And as I warned my reader(s) when I started this blog...it's all about us.

If you don't believe me about my babies, stay tuned for photos later.

Maybe after we get back from New York. And after the time line is finished.

A Thousand Thanks

My next-to-last post mentioned a Blog-a-Day challenge...thankfully, I didn't take up that challenge because I would already be behind!

But here is my first thankfulness post of 2011, on the last day of the month. Yesterday in church, the September baby pointed out that it was already January 30 and he couldn't believe that we were already that far into 2011. The Good Doctor said yes, the year is 1/12 over and what had we accomplished? I riposted with a smart-alecky comment that I consider it a daily victory that we are all still alive and living together. But, I will admit (just not to TGD) that the question did make me think a bit.

It hasn't been sensationally or tragically bad, but we've had a rocky month...perhaps rocky isn't even really the mot juste..."less easy than I'm comfortable with" is probably about as strong as I can pitch it, if I must tell the absolute truth (and, since this is the Internet and everything you read here is the absolute truth, I suppose I must). Really, not even anything has happened about which I could say, "We'll laugh about this later." Just sort of plodding uncomfortably along.

The September Baby has Osgood-Schlatter Disease, which is not really a disease, but I love to say it because it sounds so exotic and awful. Basically, his knee hurts because his bones are growing faster than his muscles can keep up. It hurts badly and makes soccer less fun for him than I wish it were. We joke that it's because he drinks so incredibly much milk.

The February Baby is having a tough start to the year because we (and when I say "we," I don't mean we...I mean The Good Doctor) have decided that it is time that The FB start to make a concerted effort to get, and keep, his grades up.

The May Baby is, as usual, completely fine. Harassed by her brothers and missing her best friend, who has been absent from school because of mono, she keeps reminding me of the things on her list that she didn't get for Christmas, i.e. a horse and a violin. She gets blisters on her feet from wearing the high heels that her aunt (The Cool One) gave her for Christmas.

We've been busy and stressed with away soccer games and too many tests and too many days off (you know, having a short school week isn't fun at all any more...the teachers simply have to cram a week's worth of work into four, or even three, days) and too much stuff and too much laundry and cataract video-making and disappointments about land we can't buy and reports of my children being ugly to others on the playground at Wednesday night church.

So, where does the thankfulness come in?

Well, I am thankful, damn it. For...

139. Shampoo and conditioner that does what it says.
140. Dave Bruno and his book The 100 Thing Challenge.
141. Some cold weather...real winter in South Mississippi.
142. A date with The Good Doctor to see The King's Speech.
143. My iPad
144. Tuesday mornings
145. Three applications to take to PCS.
146. Jack Kennedy and United Christian Ministries.
147. Reminders that all the complaining I did in the first of this post is merely petulance and that, as I tell my children, if that's the worst thing you can come up with, you've got an extremely cushy life.
148. The boys getting to duck hunt with Grandaddy.
149. The years of farming my Daddy had, and this email he sent to me last week, after the auction of his equipment:

Subj: End of Quofaloma Partners

In March of 1977 Dixon C. Peaster, first cousin of my father James R. Peaster Jr., died of a sudden heart attack. Uncle Sonny and I rented Quofaloma Plantation from Stacia Peaster. I was the active manager and Partner until about 1996. Then I formed Quofaloma Partners with y'all until 2009. In early 2009 your mother and I formed Roseneath Partners and farmed until Dec. 2010. We rented the equipment from Quofaloma partners. TodayJan. 20th 2011 it all ended. I loved farming and I am very thankful to our loving heavenly father for allowing me to farm Quofaloma and Eden for 35 crops. Our God blessed and prospered us through this time. Today Dewitt auction company sold all of our equipment. It took about two and one half hours to sell the results of 35 years of farming. Jeff Dewitt and I have been loyal friends for 40 years. The auction was a success. It pays to have late model John Deere equipment. Y'all will be getting a nice check in about two weeks. This has been a very emotional time for me. I dearly loved farming.  Laura Lee thank you for your sweet note today and for your prayers. I did not go to the sale today. Too many memories. I love you both so very much. Good night from your your earthly father. Remember to fear God and love the Lord Jesus Christ all of your days.

(A Few) Favorite Christmas Memories 2010

Our weekend at Windsor Court in New Orleans in December.

The children discovered (or rediscovered) beignets.

I have tried to make them at home (with the souvenir mix), but they were not as good.

They also had their first visit to Brennan's for breakfast.

The May Baby's "Best Christmas Pageant Ever" at her school.

(Look at this photo and then try to tell me she looks just like me.)

My beautiful sister, The Cool One, with her beautiful nephews and niece,

sporting crowns from our Christmas crackers.

My family came to us for Christmas, since The Good Doctor was on call.

It was very good.

Sated on Saturday

I know I should give up on the alliterative post titles, but I can't do it yet. It has been a long time since you've heard from me..."you" being me, actually, or one of my ones of followers.

And just a note on my promise to keep you updated on the progress of the fort: I haven't broken it. There hasn't been any progress.

We have been really busy since school started on August 10 for The May Baby and the 11th for the boys. (One month ago!) Seventh grade homework is no joke. Also, lots of football games and horseback riding lessons, meetings for The Good Doctor, and pulpit committee meetings for me. And a whole lot of frantic errands to replace contacts (no glasses under helmets) and get football pads, mouth guards, chin straps, practice pants...

I enjoy watching the boys play, though, and they both seem to be liking it. Both boys sustained their first losses this week, however. The February Baby, whose team was undefeated last year, did not take that very well; he'd been blocking a monster from Poplarville (I think the kid's own child was cheering him from the sidelines). The September Baby was beaming when he came out of the locker room after his game...at least the Jackson Prep offense hadn't gotten around his end, during his six plays.

Anyway, losses have to happen, and it's said that they help build character.

So, I am going to go ahead and continue my thankful list with number 106. Losses
107. Football
108. Coaches
109. Safety, so far, from injuries...physical ones, at least.

And I'm feeling in a bookish mood tonight, so

110. Lord Peter Wimsey and Dorothy L. Sayers
111. C.S. Lewis
112. Jane Austen
113. P.G. Woodhouse and Bertie Wooster
114. Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes
115. Harry Potter
116. Ngaio Marsh
117. My bookclub

Under construction

On what may be the hottest day of the year so far, The Three have decided to build a fort. (I think it may end up looking more like a homeless person's shanty.) We spent the morning deciding where it should go...they wanted to do it in the field across the street, near the creek, but I feared that the Providence Architectural Compliance Committee might not approve of its visibility from the street. So we decided on the back yard, utilizing our old swing set that my parents gave the boys for Christmas 2000. I remember swinging the boys on it the morning of May 5, 2001, killing time until it was time to go to the hospital to have Ella. If I were sentimental, I might make some reference here to The Giving Tree. But since I do not fall victim to those types of nostalgic, emotional references, I won't. (No, no. I'm fine...I just have something in my eye.)

When we talked to the Good Doctor at lunch time, he suggested sites in the yard that would lower the eyesore factor. But here it is; smack-dab in the middle of the back yard, visible from every angle.

Enjoy the slanted view here.

 They worked hard all afternoon. You can see the blood (September Baby's thumb), 

and the sweat (February Baby's face),

And this...this is just before the tears.

 I'll keep you posted on the progress.

The Trifecta

Around our house during football season, The Trifecta is when Ole Miss wins and State and Southern lose. But here...here is the true trifecta of my dreams.

All three of my children reading. That's good...that's very good. (And tragically rare.)

But, even better, they're reading in Oxford. Which is, well, no matter how you feel about Ole Miss...Oxford is a great place. I'm not saying it's actually Heaven, but I have heard it called "heavenly."

And then, to make it perfect...they are reading at Square Books Jr.

We went to Oxford while we were in Thaxton visiting Goober the day after Father's Day. He may be having aneurysm repair surgery soon and we wanted to get to see him before all of that. Since I was late mailing his gift, we got to be there when it arrived. Old Guys Rule, with a quote from John Wayne on the back, "You never see a cowboy on a psychiatrist's couch." It was a very fast, but good trip.

A Thousand Thanks

As forecast...a look at our first swim of the season. The Good Doctor was still in Winston-Salem on Mother's Day, basking in the glory of a successful presentation for the First Annual M. Madison Slusher Lecture...and also basking in the wonderful preaching of our old pastor, Reggie Kimbro, at Grace Free Pres.

Our dear Starnses let us join them at Little Tokyo hibachi for lunch and then let us join them at their neighborhood pool for our First Swim of 2010. Well...it was the first swim of 2010 for The Three...not for me, of course. The water is still way too cold. But I had a lovely visit with Heather.

54. The First Swim of the Season

 
55. Lunch with sweet Loleeta on Monday, who always knows the right thing to say. Maybe it's because she is "quick to hear and slow to speak." Thank you, Lo.

56. Airplanes...it's a long way to Winston-Salem in a car.

57. Time in Winston and getting to see old friends. There is something special about the friendships that begin and grow during residency...the Good Doctor likened to the bonds that form between soldiers in the trenches during a war.

58. Faithful, skillful practice administrators who are willing to trade places with me on plane trips.

59. The sounds of boys talking and laughing in bed...way after lights out...waiting for their daddy to get home and kiss them.

60. Adoption. At the alumni dinner after the eye meeting Friday, and here at home, we seem to be increasingly surrounded by families who are adopting children. I am thankful for them, and for the way it reminds me that I am adopted into God's family...co-heirs with Christ. Amazing love, how can it be?

A Thousand Thanks

Monday? Again? Good grief. And, honestly, this is the last time I am going to comment on how quickly the weeks fly. From now on, I'll just plunge in with the list.

18. Reconnecting with old friends...even without Facebook. (Thanks, Cindy!)

19. Traveling mercies.

20. For fishing and catching big(ish) fish

and tiny ones.

21. An important goal made on a gorgeous spring day.

22. The third generation of friends with whom to celebrate it.


23. A beautiful week of spring days.

Failure...matey!

As an English major...nay, as an even slightly educated, English-speaking human...I should be too ashamed to admit this even to my closest friends, much less blog about it to all three of my readers. (I admit to a certain amount of overlap in those categories.) And I should certainly hesitate to expose my child by telling this. It puts my cultural literacy teaching skills in the very worst light. It puts my child's literacy in almost as bad a light. But I have decided to pass the buck and blame the school, thus turning this into an expose' of the deplorable academic failures of our education system, instead of a mea culpa regarding my mothering.

So, today we were in the car and something, I'm not sure what, put the September Baby in mind of Shakespeare, and he asked me something about him...something along the lines of why do people make such a big deal about the stuff Shakespeare wrote?

Now, I took a whole year of classes on Shakespeare in college (besides, Kenneth Branagh's Henry V is one of my favorite movies ever). I felt I was therefore uniquely qualified to answer a question like that. I mean, this is what parents wait for, isn't it? The glimmers of a yearning, curious mind in their progeny...proof of life, proof of intelligence! And I'm The Mother, after all. The Stay-at-Home Mom whose job it is, besides chauffer, to Be There when the Big Questions come up. The ones whose answers shape the future, not only of the child, but of mankind! And there I was, the Literary Parent to the Good Doctor's Science Parent. So, I turned down the conservative talk radio show, put down my iPhone, and began...

"It's 'cause...well...Shakespeare...William Shakespeare...was, like, you know...a really good writer and stuff..."

The February Baby piped up, sounding surprised and a little puzzled, and said, "I thought Shakespeare was a pirate!"

I gasped and swerved. "What?" Shrilly, "A...pirate?!?"

Then I laughed and twiddled the wheel, steering the Suburban off the curb and back into the street. "You're just kidding...aren't you, sweetie? Hahaha!"

"No, I'm not kidding," he said. "Honestly, for the past ten years, I've thought he was a pirate. I never knew he was a writer."

Wow.

Yeah.

That story is all I need, if I ever do need to prove my ineffectiveness as a parent--my utter uselessness at shaping the next generation.

However, as I said, I've decided to take the modern approach and shove the blame off on his school teachers.

And The Three will be drifting off to sleep tonight while listening to me read Hamlet...or, at least, while watching my DVD of Henry V.

Snow!

I guess I didn't post this when I wrote it because I couldn't get the photos exactly the way I wanted them...now, a month later, it seems sillier to be so late for such a dumb reason. I'm going to go ahead and post it, even though it's not still February.

It's February in South Mississippi...a couple of years ago, I had the air conditioner repairman at our house in February! But this year, it has been cold. And it snowed! On Friday the 12th, right before the Good Doctor and I were leaving for sunny Puerto Rico for an eye meeting. The snow was so beautiful and very throwable.

This Week with the May Baby

All of the teachers at Ella's school went to a conference this week. She went to school from 8:00 to noon on Monday and then was out the whole rest of the week. Tuesday we went to Brookhaven to pick up the bridesmaid's dress for Haley's wedding. My mother met us there and we ate lunch with Grammaw and Uncle Mike. It was really fun and I am sorry I didn't have my camera with me because we drove around Brookhaven and saw all the important family sites, like the house where Grammaw was born and where she and Paw got married. I'm going to have to go back soon.

I begged Ella to let me take her to a movie one day, but she was set on having a pedicure...no wonder Kiper calls her "mini Laura Lee." There is a nail shop here that has a chair especially for kid pedicures. Here it is (poor photo quality, sorry). You can't see, but the chair has an attached dvd player, which played a weird oriental-type cartoon about Kimba, The White Lion.

Here are Ella's toes, post-pedicure.

She couldn't decide between a butterfly and flowers, so she had one of each. The lady told her to come back at Christmas and she'd do Christmas trees, snowmen, and candy canes. Sounds so fun, but I'm not sure I'm thrilled with this fingernail decorating trend I seem to be fostering!

Her other fantasy for this week was for us to eat at The Grand China Buffet. So we did. She had every Chinese-American version of chicken on her plate, but her favorite thing here, and at every Asian restaurant she patronizes, is the egg drop soup.

On Saturday, while the boys went to the Ole Miss-Tennessee game (and saw the Rebels win!) she had her friend Reed over to play and they had a wonderful time.

They played dress-up, they danced,

they painted, they rode skateboards,

they spied, they climbed.

  

It was very good.

With hope in our hearts and wings on our heels...

I ordered the DVD of Chariots of Fire last week; I thought it might be interesting to the September Baby since he is starting to run cross country track with the PCS team. I remember feeling inspired to sign up for track when I first saw it...that didn't stick. But, honestly, I was just looking for an excuse to buy the movie.

I realized in reading the cover, that I was the same age as Win is now when I first saw it. Good grief. It really doesn't seem that long ago...1981. I wonder if it will impress him as it did me. I can still recite parts of the movie along with the actors. And, like it did me, the music has already made an impression on the February Baby, and when he's doing homework asks to have the soundtrack playing on iTunes.

(I can't help but muse a moment on the difference in the ease of watching this movie now...a few clicks of the mouse on Amazon.com...as compared to, gulp, almost 30 years ago. We had to drive or, in my case, be driven to Jackson to see it. And that happened more than once, if my memory serves. Then when it finally came out on video, friends of ours borrowed an extra VCR in order to copy it...hmmm...I think that really might have been illegal. Ooops. Surely the statute of limitations has run out on that crime by now, so I won't feel bad about ratting them out here, on this my unvisited blog.)

I've not had the chance to really sit and watch the whole movie...I've listened, awash in nostalgia and that C.S. Lewis type of joy, while The Three watch it in the car. But I look forward to the time when I can. And in watching the boys play their sports...whether track, soccer, or football...I pray that they will "feel God's pleasure when they run."

This week

It's been a crazy week...having a day off on Monday was wonderful, but then it seemed that five days worth of "stuff" was being crammed into a four-day week! Track, football, homework, a birthday party...you know, all the stuff. And then one by one the Three started getting sick, so we added in doctor and pharmacy visits and make up work. Crazy.

But it all doesn't seem as stress-worthy as it would have before this past Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon we found out that the 21-year-old daughter of friends died Monday night. Now I can remember that it is a privilege to be able to drive the Three all over the place, to read with them, to look over their homework, to pick up their medicine, to make their sandwiches.

And today is September 11. Eight years ago, thousands of people learned of the death of family members and friends. My babies were close under my wing, making the trip back to Hattiesburg from Yazoo. Now they're old enough to go to school and be away from me all day; soon they'll be gone longer, weeks at a time; soon they'll be 21.

And I wonder...am I teaching them what they need to know? Am I pointing them to God? Am I being a "joyous mother of children"?

God help me to be so.

Number 71

 

This is the February Baby. He is in fifth grade. At PCS, fifth grade is the year they begin learning the Westminster Shorter Catechism. The first question is "What is the chief end of man?" The answer is this: "Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever."

I know it's early days yet, the season is only a month old; but I think, at least in this stage of his life, this boy was made to glorify and enjoy God by playing football. I mean...look at him!

And he is loving it. And he is pretty good at it.
And I'm so thankful. And I pray that God is bringing Thomas' motivation for playing into line with His own motivation for creating Thomas...and football... 

to glorify Him.

(I don't know if this is only a Nelson thing, but I do know it's not very gracious, but for some reason, victories over the papists are very, very satisfying. Tonight the fifth grade Bobcats beat the Sacred Heart team. )

And besides...

A back to school story for the first of September.

The May Baby is going to a new school this year and repeating second grade. We were completely angst-ridden over this decision and ended up springing it on her about a week before school started. In our defense, I must point out that it would have been a disaster to inform her of the pending change in her life before we'd made a final decision ourselves. And it took a while for us to make a decision.

She misses her friends at PCS dreadfully and for the first couple of weeks that's all she could talk about, even though by all reports, she seemed to be behaving well and doing her work just fine at her new school. Then last Monday, when I picked her up from school, she got in the car and said to me, "My day was great!" I was so thankful! So relieved! So happy! I quickly began texting Kiper and all our parents as I asked her what had made her day great. They'd done art; they'd made patterns; they'd gone to the Treasure Chest. Great!

The next morning, I walked her upstairs as usual to the school and the director was in the common area. Ella walked on to her class room and I exchanged a few pleasantries with the director. Before I turned away to go back downstairs, she said, "Can I talk to you for just a minute?"

Yikes!

But, it's okay, I reminded myself, Ella had had a great day yesterday.

Mrs. H led me into the little computer room off the office area and asked earnestly, "Did Ella tell you what happened yesterday?"

My heart began to sink. "What could it be?" I thought. "But, wait, it can't be anything awful; she had a 'great' day!"

So, I responded, "Um, she said she had a great day yesterday."

"Well," Mrs. H said, "Betty Lou got kicked in the face...and it was Ella."

If I hadn't been in a school full of innocent little ears, I would have cursed on the spot. In point of fact, I am not completely confident that the words, "You have gotta be sh!++!ng me!" did not escape my lips. I hope not. But I assure you that's what I was thinking.

So, the story unfolded. Betty Lou accused Ella of kicking her (in the FACE!) but as Mrs. H delved deeper into the events, it transpired that Betty Lou, having an impulsive moment, was smacking Ella repeatedly in the arm with her snack bag. Ella asked her to stop, but the child did not, so Ella kicked her. The whole incident was cleared up, turned into a Bible Story, hugs all round, and things were fine, but Mrs. H (rightly) thought I should be informed.

I refrained from pointing out that the kid was obviously begging for it, but thanked her for handling it so wisely, apologized for my child, and laughingly mentioned that I had to reckon it progress in the right direction, considering the fact that Ella had actually asked the child to stop hitting before she kicked her.

I left the school trying to decide whether to send a follow up text to our families recanting my praise from the previous afternoon, but I was too demoralized even to talk about it. My baby girl...a violent scofflaw! (Even though, as I said, the child was clearly demanding to be kicked.)

I feel that I showed great restraint in not bringing it up as soon as Ella got in the car when I picked her up that afternoon. I waited until we got home and I could put my arm around her and ask her about it. She immediately began defending herself: "We were standing on steps and I wasn't trying to kick her. I was just...I was stomping my foot...and it slipped!"

"Now, I know that she was annoying you and wouldn't stop even when you asked her to," I said. "But are you sure? You didn't mean to kick her?"

"Yes! And besides..." said the May Baby as she pointed at a spot near her hairline on the left side of her forehead and drew her finger diagonally down across the bridge of her nose and under her right eye, "...today you couldn't even see the mark..."

Win, almost 12

Win had to write an autobiographical poem for 6th grade English. They were given a very detailed form (name, four adjectives, siblings, lover of..., who feels..., etc.) This is what he wrote about himself. I think it captures his essence very well.

Win

Brown-haired, bespectacled, bright, bon vivant

Sibling of Thomas and Ella

Lover of random trivia and soccer

Who feels like he needs an inhaler puff

Who needs more time to do homework

Who gives all he can to be a good runner

Who fears Obama and Biden

Who would like to see Eli Manning

Resident of Hattiesburg

Nelson

Soccer...one of his loves.