Beatles, Birthdays, and A Hangin'

Clay and I took a trip last Sunday. It was an hour and fifteen minute trip (one way), but he felt the need to bring six Beatles cds. And that is fine, because I like the Beatles. I'm just not sure we needed all six of the cds. I will say that I've found myself humming a lot of Beatles in the last couple of days.

Our drive took us to Prairieville. Now, I know there a couple of you that think that is a lovely name for a town, but it really isn't. In your mind you are hearing "Prayer REE ville". That ain't how we natives say it. It is pronounced "Prayer VULL". You can always tell when you're talking to a newcomer when they tell you they live in "Prayer REE ville". You have to tell them that they don't live there. They live in "Prayer VULL" and just need to accept that fact.

But none of that has to do with the reason we were there. My Aunt Peggy was honored by her gigantic family with a surprise 75th birthday party. I asked her if she was really surprised and she said she knew something was up because too much stuff was disappearing from her house. The kids and grandkids had tried to sneak out photos and decorations that had to do with her roles as Mother and Grammy.

Aunt Peggy had 9 children. And they have had a slew of children. And now those children are having children. I get so tangled up when I start trying to figure out exactly who belongs where.

Her life has never been easy. She is only three years older than my dad. I imagine she was constantly trying to keep him out of trouble or getting in it with him. He told about a time they went into Mabank and watched a western and came home and decided to hang someone like they did in the movie. It was a huge blessing that the rope they chose was extra long, so when my dad shoved Aunt Peggy off the hay loft she hit the ground before the rope ran out. She also hit the ground right as their mother walked into the barn. Apparently she wasn't very happy with them.

She has buried two sons, a husband, grandchildren, siblings, nieces, and friends. Her road has been very, very rough. Most people would have given up, self destructed, or become so bitter no one would want to be around them. Not Aunt Peggy. She is a light. She always has a smile and a helping hand. Her memory blows me away, but I guess if you are going to have that many children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren you better sharp. Not only does she pour her life into her family and extended family (like we lucky nieces, nephews, cousins and such) but she has also worked hard in the nursing field forever and a day.

I don't know exactly which person put together the slide show for the party, but it just about put some of us on the floor. Summer kept laughing at the clothes, because she and her 3 sisters got their hand me downs and she was recognizing outfits. Dreama and I just about lost it when a picture came up of Shane with a almost day-glo orange spray-on-tan. And there was the picture of Wayne with his Fabio hair. There was a lot of laughter mixed with some tears as we watched time pass before us.

The family did a lovely job honoring her. She is a lovely lady with a lot of spunk and sweetness.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Peggy!

I'm 45 today...I think

I have trouble keeping up with how old I am. It might have something to with all the dead brain cells from delivering 4 children. And I'm pretty sure some got killed during the adoption process of Callie. But, anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm 45 this time around.

Twenty years ago we were living in the adorable little town of Norwalk, Iowa. Haley had arrived three days before. I was three years into what turned out to be twelve miserable years of depression. I finally got help. Now the depression rears it head and slaps me down about every five years or so. Thankfully, now I don't mess around about getting help to climb back up.

The last twenty years have been filled with lots of good stuff. My husband has continued to love me. Most of the time I'm not too lovable. We've added four wonderful, crazy, obnoxious children to our family. I've been to China three times for a total of 9 weeks, Morocco for two weeks and the South of France one week (not nearly long enough). I've volunteered for some amazing organizations, gone on some moving mission trips and been paid to do some really fun things.

The last twenty years has been filled with a lot of crap too. As I've already said, depression kept me down for a good bit of time. I bought into the stupid American dream. I bought into the Plano dream even though in the back of my head I always knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong. I've made choices for which my family will pay a long, long, time. I waited too many years to sponsor children from Compassion International. My priorities have been twisted and bent.

I don't know if I have twenty more years. If I take after my grandmothers, I do. If I take after my grandfathers, not so much. My prayer is that I do better with whatever I have left.

My Oldest is Twenty

My oldest daughter turned twenty yesterday morning at 7:38 a.m. Her birth was easy. I wish her brothers had followed in her footsteps in that area. She has turned out to be a remarkable young woman. She can blow spit bubbles off of her tongue. I know! It is very impressive. The French Chicks were laughing hysterically at her talent as I tried to dodge the bubbles while watching Detroit beat the Rangers from the mile high seats at The Ranger Stadium in Arlington. According to Haley I'm the only one that finds her talent disgusting.

Since I am now old enough to have a twenty year old I am tired and going to bed, I mean, sleep. I'm already in bed. Having a twenty year old does that to a person.

Confused Minds

The kids weren't the only ones confused the other night. This also went down in Chili's.

Clay: Mom, how old are you?
Me: 44, I mean 45, I think. I'm 45.
Callie: You don't know how old you are?
Me: I'm 45 right? Did you just turn 46?
Phil: I turned 46.
Me: Then I'm 45.
Phil: No, wait, I just turned 45.
Me: That means I'm 44. I'm 44.
Callie: You don't know how old you are?