LEARNING AT THE POTTER'S WHEEL

My husband is the king of kidders. When we married, every prank and tease he had been saving up because he missed living at home with his brothers and sisters came back to him. It's been interesting, to say the least.

His humor has meant that I have sons that love to joke and tease as well. They've seen me bubble over with laughter at their dad's antics, and they love to contribute to the fun.

The other thing my husband passed on to his sons is an EXTREME honesty. This means, that sometimes when silence might serve your interests better, you just burst forth with whatever pops into your head . . . Like the time Duke asked a friend (with a new haircut) if she had walked into a buzz saw. Thankfully, she appreciated his humor and thought it was hilarious.

I am hoping that my middle child will gain the social graces and skills necessary to not scare of all future prospects for a spouse. . . I may need to shift those prayers to more in the area of protection after this past week. . .

We went to run errands. All of us piled into the car and had a good time walking through the store. We look a lot.

As we went through the checkout, I opened my bag to pull out my wallet. Duke stopped me, and said he wanted to break a $100. I knew he needed a haircut, but it struck me as humorous when the young girl took the bill and held it up to the light, squinting at it. I couldn't help myself. I burst into laughter.

Next in line was the middle son. He handed her his $20 which received NO extra checking.

This tickled me even more and had me laughing as we walked out to the car.

In the parking lot, the child in question said, "Hey Mom."
"What?" I asked as I stopped and turned in his direction.
"Look," he was gesturing at his legs (he was wearing long shorts). "You know, with this breeze, it sorta tickles my legs."
I looked at the very thin legs extending below the bony knees. "Really?"
"Yeah," he continued. "That's because of the hair."
I squinted to see.

"You see," he explained, "That's what happens when you get to be a man. I'm getting hair on my legs."

Now you try walking to the car without laughing and not hurt yourself after that statement.

Next, we pulled into the gas station to fill the tank. This meant that Duke was doing some creative maneuvering around the other cars and pumps. While he was in the store paying for the gas, I slipped into the drivers' seat, buckled the belt and adjusted the mirrors.

When Duke returned, he asked what I was doing in HIS seat.
"I know it's not as exciting when I drive," I smiled sweetly up at him, "But you deserve a rest. I'll wake you when we get to the next stop."


Trying to help, the middle son interjected:

"Yeah, Dad, your driving is more . . . . ADVENTURESOME!"

Duke growled, muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, and climbed into the passenger seat.


Yeah, I need to pray more for that boy.

I'm a mix of emotions as I post this entry. . . . and that's fitting as parenting is just that, a mixture of so many things.

I'm excited for my youngest, Z-man. He's been potty-trained now for two years, but the nights haven't all been dry. Yet, in the last couple of weeks, the dry nights have moved into the majority. My writing brought me a few pennies, so the last time we were out running errands, we stopped into one of those box stores.

This was during the tax-free weekend, so all kinds of stuff was placed for prominent display. One of those items were the draw-string twin sheet sets that you buy for kids going to camp or college. They were on sale. We didn't NEED any sheets, mind you. The ones we have are fine, but they are old.

I looked down at Z-man and told him how proud I was of him that he wasn't wetting the bed any more (mostly) and that I thought he deserved to have brand new sheets. He was thrilled and picked out a bright apple-green color to have on his bed.

That night, we put his sheets on and tossed the others in the wash. His brother had also gotten a set. They were both quite proud of their selections and couldn't wait to hop into bed.

Would you believe it? Those sheets are worth their weight in gold. Z-man has something HE chose, HE picked out and HE wants to keep nicely on HIS bed. So far, the magic sheets have done their work nicely. All dry nights . . . One accident happened en route to the restroom, but the green sheets? Dry as a bone. Thank you very much!

So, why the mix of emotions?

Because tonight, there is a family making arrangements to have their their son released from the hospital to come home. There aren't any magic sheets for this young man. The cancer has done its worst, and the end looms. Hospice has been called, and prayers are being said. They've taken their last vacation.

These parents who have kissed the boo-boos and soothed the hurts are now facing an unimaginable loss, but there is no time to process all of that. For now, they must keep track of pain meds, care schedules and the endless telephone calls. They will not sleep much during the next while. Someone will always need to be awake. The one that should be resting likely won't be able to. They will make arrangements that no parent ever dreams of making.

They aren't just running out of time, they are losing time they thought they had. . . The holidays yet to come . . . The milestones not yet met. In an almost cruel twist, weddings, births, deaths, graduations, and new friendships will all continue to occur . . . time will march on . . . oblivious to this crushing blow.

For now, I live in a world where green sheets can work magic. But I have also known the sorrow that comes when nothing I could do would fix it. I know what it is to go on living when one I love did not . . . and I grieve for this mother and this father and the task that is before them.

Tonight, I'll tuck Z-man into his still-new green sheets, and I'll pray for this family as they settle in for the night. I'll be thankful that when these times come I know there IS comfort and peace because the Potter holds me firmly within His skilled hands.

This morning before breakfast, I had one of those moments that just leave me a bit awestruck.

I know that boys need men to teach them how to be men. I understand that. So, it should have come as no surprise to me that my efforts to teach manners were not always well received. In reality, a female demonstrating to a boy how he should conduct himself in public is . . . well . . . a FEMALE telling a boy how to be a MALE. At best, such an endeavor would result in a facsimile of maleness. My boys weren't interested.

The difficulty for me was that I grew up in a home that emphasized manners. Both of my parents taught manners from before I could speak. It is part of my DNA somehow. It was just something I endeavored to teach my boys as a matter of course.

From time to time I've been called upon to attend some formal events (not often, and long ago). So, you can imagine how I'd look at my children and sometimes think , "If you do that in front of dignitaries one day, I'll just faint!"

My boys would just respond with giggles and laughter.

Before I tell you what happened at breakfast, I have to backtrack a bit. We've been going over events that led up to the founding of our country. In that process, we've started learning about the challenges presented to the defenders of the colonies when they decided to revolt against England. Forces of nature were brought into play such that men that should have been decimated lived to fight and win another day.

Learning about the circumstances under which George Washington found himself leading troops (well, eventually, they were troops) was like experiencing an episode of some survival reality television show, and whatever other action-adventure program you can think of all wrapped up into one. Knowing the outcome didn't make it any less amazing. . . . But that was watching it through my adult eyes.

My little guys, on the other hand, were mesmerized. Their grandfather was named after this man. This guy was starting to tower above Davy Crockett and Lewis and Clark -- and that's saying a lot in this house. Not only did this man manage to be successful in war, he was a LEADER of MEN. My guys were more than impressed.

That brings us to this morning.

"Mom, can I read to you?"
"Sure," I replied expecting to see the latest dinosaur book from the library.

Instead, he pulled out a small red volume. One of the books I had collected long ago thinking that ONE day, SOME day, I would share it with my kids. None of them seemed interested, so it had sat on the shelf for years.

That's the book he pulled out.

George Washington's Rules of Civility and Decent Behaviour In Company and Conversation

I was stunned and listened as he began to read over President Washington's list. This was a list made by a man that was humbled by the office of the presidency and the weight of the responsibility of the men and the nation he led. This was a man concerned with not causing unnecessary offense. He knew war. He knew how to fight. He seemed keenly aware of the scrutiny he was under and sought to not cause embarrassment or discomfort. He could have swaggered and preened. Instead, he maintained a humble dignity. This was not a man without passions. This was not a man unfamiliar with hardship. This was a man with considered priorities, and he determined to discipline himself first.

THAT appealed to my young son.

So, I listened as he read from George Washington's book. He read the same things my parents had taught me. He read the same things I had tried to tell him before. But THIS time, it came from a MAN that was a LEADER -- A man of integrity and honor and faith. It wasn't just mama saying not to scratch in public. This was the father of our country saying:

"When in company, put not your hands to any part of the body, not usually discovered."

Thanks George, I couldn't have said it better myself!

I am thankful that the Lord of my heart knew how much this would mean to me and allowed me the privilege to witness it. God is SOOOOOOOO GOOD!

Note: If you are interested in using any of these materials I've mentioned, feel free to use the link I've provided in my Recommended Reads widget below. THANKS!

Okay. It seems that cheap peanut butter and the old standby for rodent control proved to be just the right blend to get rid of our house guest.

Duke rose to the occasion and emptied the trap when he left for work early. He woke up my little hero to show him the results of a rodent encounter with a spring-loaded trap. (ugh!)

The boy was so impressed, that he couldn't wait to describe it to me before breakfast.

I agree that those who abuse or torment animals should be stopped. When it comes to having my home invaded, however, I'm happy to bring these fellows to a quick and certain end. He didn't live long enough to be abused . . . although his last meal wasn't organic. . . I don't think it made any difference in his overall health.

Meanwhile, I think I'll leave the traps out for a bit to be sure he didn't leave a forwarding address for his friends.

Well, it's official. We have an uninvited and unwanted guest. He or she didn't even have the decency to knock and had the audacity to leave little calling cards in the dog's dish.

That's right. A mouse is in my house.

No, I'm not a squeamish woman. I enjoy watching films of surgery, and watching Duke get stitches (which he seems to do at least once a year) is an intriguing pastime. If you've read about some of our spec-poop-ular times, you know I've got that covered also. I'm not afraid to squish a bug or two in the name of domestic tranquility. At one time, I begged my parents for a snake.

But rodents are another matter. They defecate where they eat. . . and where I eat; they carry plagues and disease, and they destroy property.

I looked up from my work and out of the corner of my eye saw a fuzzy blur dash across my kitchen floor. I'm old enough that it could have been just a spot or something with my vision, so I got up and checked behind the trash can. Nothing.

I got back to work and looked up just in time to see varmint poke his nose out from underneath the fridge.

That was enough to prompt a telephone call to Duke at work -- not something I do often. (And yes, I KNOW that isn't what I would look like in a chair! LOL) I told him about our interloper and offered to remove myself from the premises if he had no other solution. He was sure there was another answer.

My middle son saw an occasion to play the hero. He went and donned his camouflage jacket, his plastic gun, his plastic knife, and an assortment of sticks. Also he put on his shoes and then assured me that this mouse was toast. He armed his brother with a fly swatter and then (it's sad that THIS part is my legacy to him) he made a list of mouse weapons and had each of us sign the list as he provided us with munitions. I told him I would be fine, thank you.

It was all I could do not to laugh when he went and got a plastic piece of corn and placed it before the refrigerator. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was trying to lure the mouse out into the open. This was after he started placing some crumbs around. I put a stop to that as I didn't really want to FEED the mouse.

We ran errands after Duke got home. On the way back to the house, we stopped to get some traps and cheap p-nut butter. What? I'm not givin' him the GOOD stuff!

So, I dabbed the cheap p-nut butter onto the traps, set the trigger and placed them strategically. To Duke I said, "I'll load them, but I don't unload them."

Duke grinned.

That's okay. I know who my real friends are. That's the little guy that organized a mouse posse and got out all of his best weapons to take care of his mama. When it comes to taking care of me, my boys are loaded for BEAR! That boy gets the BIG piece of chicken tonight.

We've started the adventure of flea marketing. Duke has decided that we need to simplify our lives, so to that end, we've started lightening our load of 'stuff' at the local flea market. He's been quite pleased with the process . . . AND, it turns out, has just one or two extra coins in his pocket as a consequence.

This has meant that in the last month, we've actually been able to visit our favorite eatery a couple of times.

A couple of weeks ago, dear friends were in town and we went there after a day of fun in the sprinklers. While there, we celebrated their 4-year-old's birthday by singing to her with the whole candle in the chocolate chip cookie thing.

This past Saturday, we went there for lunch after the flea market as Duke's treat to us all. It tickled me to realize that our boys have now just accepted a couple of things as fact. The 9-yr-old has decided that it is a GRAND bargain to get tokens for the arcade and trade tickets he's won for about fifty cents worth of plastic. I agree that it's well worth the entertainment, but I couldn't help but grin hearing him talk about all the 'stuff' he'd won as though it were treasure. It's his money, he'll figure it out soon enough that he could have bought three times as much 'stuff' at the dollar store for that same amount. I doubt he'd have had as much fun, though.

His perspective came to light as we enjoyed our lunch and "B" spoke in glowing terms of the 'champion' of ticket winners. That guy had his picture on the register along with his 3,000 tickets. Boys love having something to conquer! What I see as pennies worth of plastic is to him the spoils of war!

Then there's Z-man. Remember in my earlier post (Happy Normal Birthday, Z-Man), when I said we didn't get out much? Well it's true. So, this month has been an exciting change of pace. However, for Z-man, The Flight Deck has become the place you go to eat a meal, and then have everyone come out, clap and sing "Happy Birthday" with a lit candle in a cookie. Well, it happens every time we go there lately. Seems like a logical conclusion, right?

This tidbit of information came to light as Z-man polished off his lunch and then looked around expectantly and said, "Okay, NOW Happy Birthday!"

We laughed and explained to both boys that no, we don't have to play in the game room every time we eat at Mr. Ted's, and no, we don't have to end every meal there with a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday To You.

*happy sigh*

It's nice having children remind you what fun it is to find occasions to celebrate.
Let's party!

I'm shaking my head as I sit here. Not because I'm surprised, mind you. I'm shaking my head because I should have seen this coming. I should have known better. It's my own fault really. I know what sort of people I'm surrounded by, and I continue to operate under false assumptions. Like:

• I assume you have a grasp of the English language.
• I assume that when I emphasize something, the listener grasps its importance.
• I assume that eye contact and nodding accompanied by associated noises imply you were listening.
• I assume that I have effectively communicated something when I heard myself say it to a person I thought was listening.

You can see where I'm going with this, can't you? Or, at least you THINK you know where I'm going with this. *wink*

This post isn't about husbands or children. It may be in defense of them. Rather, this post is about how we wives and mothers often think it's just limited to our own household that these oddities exist. It isn't. In this world of electronic gadgets constantly vying for our attention, you pretty much need an orchestral sound track and backup singers to be SURE you have someone's attention.


I'd forgotten that. I had started to think that it was just MY children and MY husband that sometimes just can't 'tune in' to my channel. Boy, did I get a reminder!

How much? How often?
A male relative came over to my house for me to help him with a poultice application. I sent him on his way with several items. Included was a colon cleanse that included an ingredient to get things moving along. Another item helped pull out toxins. They work together.

I instructed him on how to use both products, how often to take them, what amounts and when. I reminded him that the labels were marked clearly if he forgot and that he should call me if he had any discomfort (which shouldn't occur if you follow instructions). He nodded, asked questions and seemed to easily comprehend all that I said. In fact, he drove himself to my house, so I KNOW he was alert enough to operate heavy machinery.

Today, I asked him how he was coming along. He said he wasn't doing too well and hadn't been able to really do the cleanse because the first ingredient (that moves things along) had really been harsh. I asked him if he had cut back to only one capsule (taken with the evening meal, 1x a day). He said, "Yeah, one capsule with every meal, just like you told me."

"WITH EVERY MEAL?!!"

That poor man had not heard what I said. He hadn't read the label and he had just proceeded as he thought he should. He didn't hurt himself, but he sure feels a lot lighter.

When I corrected him on the application, he defended his actions by saying, "You know you have to get my attention first. Just because I'm looking at you and nodding doesn't mean I was actually listening."

I had to laugh as I replied, "I'll bet this is one bit of instruction you won't forget." He agreed.

The funniest part of all of this is that I've mistakenly believed that this behavior is odd or uncommon. It's not. It's all too common, and I forget too often to move within that reality.

Good Advice Too Late
Duke has had the reverse experience trying to live with me. He couldn't figure out what was so confusing to me when he tried to warn me of impending danger. When we married, I can't tell you how many times I nearly got hurt because I was constantly confused by him calling out to me 'careful.'

In my grasp of the language the term careful means to take care, to stop what you are doing and rethink your method. So, when Duke would say, "CAREFUL!" I would stop and try and figure out what I was doing that was so dangerous.

Apparently, where Duke comes from, it doesn't mean that. "Careful!" means to take cover, duck, get out of the way. It's like a golfer yelling, "Fore!" or a military lookout hollering "incoming!" -- at least that's what it means to Duke.

He also employs the term to children that have fallen and hurt themselves. By calling out "CAREFUL!" the moment after an injury has occurred, the blame of the hurt is placed firmly upon the victim and the person calling out the word is absolved of any responsibility. As a parent, Duke calling out "Careful!" is the playground equivalent of "Not it!" The funny thing is that the children (having grown up this way) understand Duke's use of the term perfectly.

Imagine someone carrying a large heavy object on a collision with another human yelling "Careful!" while the other party (me) stands there looking confused as to what to do (because I didn't see it coming and I'm not doing anything to be careful of), then you've got a pretty good idea of what we are talking about here.

All this time, I thought it was something that was unique to Duke, but my male relative and Tim Hawkins reminded me today that I'm the one that's odd. Watch the video below for further explanation.

As I sit here at my computer, my middle son is in our front yard talking to strangers. That goes against a lot of my maternal instincts.

When I got up this morning, he was already there, flagging down customers.

Customers!?

My husband took one look at my expression of concern and explained that he had sent him out there to get rid of our stash of video tapes.

He meant for his explanation to comfort me. Instead, it gave me additional concerns about my husband – momentarily.

I pulled myself back together and went to fix breakfast. This was going to be a learning experience for all of us.

I got a refresher course in trusting my husband’s judgment and protection over our children. He hasn’t left the window or door watching to be sure the little guy is okay. Of course, he does it just beyond the line of vision of the boy.

I also learned from watching my husband that this letting go business isn’t really any easier for fathers than it is for mothers. Duke was alternately cheering at every sale and expressing concern for whether or not the kid was chatting up costumers, remembering all of the prices and the tips he gave him for sales, etc. It was a good thing he was in the house, LOL.

Our son made several new friends and a little guy that rode his bike over to sit and chat with this new kid entrepreneur. He also learned about dealing with distractions, counting change, and that a Saturday spent in the front yard could earn him some money. Later today, he will likely learn a lesson on who to trust, depending on whether or not the neighbor who took several tapes returns to pay him the money.

The greatest return on the experience has been the excited look on B’s face when he comes running into the house to announce another dollar in sales. I do believe he is taller today as he contemplates the possibilities of his own ability to earn money and how that will only increase as he gains years and experience.

It’s been nice to see how gracious our neighbors are. Those boxes are full of westerns, war documentaries, classics and children’s videos. Ironically, grandmothers are the ones that have stopped and proved to be his best customers – God’s best encouragers.

Me? I’m having a ball watching it all. I keep trying not to grin too widely as I watch the menfolk navigate this new water. It’s nice to see solid proof of what I already knew. We've got some wonderful boys that take after their father. Duke is alternately concerned and delighted to see all he’s invested bearing fruit.

Something tells me that there is a trip to the dollar store coming soon.

ALSO KNOWN AS:
Plantago major
Plantago lanceolata L.
narrowleaf plantain, buckhorn plantain, broad-leaf plantain,

PARTS USED
Leaves (can also use roots and/or tops & seeds)

PHYTOCHEMICALS & NUTRIENTS
Adenine, allantoin, aucubin, apigenin, benzoic acid, caffeic acid, chlorogenic acid, cinnamic acid, ferulic acid, fiber, luteolin, oleanolic acid, p-coumaric acid, salicylic acid, tannin, ursolic acid, vanillic acid
Potassium, vitamin A

Description:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plantago
The leaves are attached by to the base of the plant rather than to a stalk or stem. The leaf is distinctive having three or five parallel veins that are spaced apart following the shape of the leaf, width depending on the species.

http://dnr.missouri.gov/greenbldg/wildflowers/english-plantain.htm
Narrow leaf plantain is also known as buckhorn or English plantain. It is native to Europe and reaches a height that ranges from six to 30 inches. From April to October, the plant blooms with a short spike of white flowers. It has been used traditionally in tea form as a remedy for coughs and diarrhea. The leaves help sores heal more quickly when applied topically.

PROPERTIES & USES

KIDNEYS
As a tea, plantain acts as a diuretic, helping reduce water retention and soothe the urinary tract with its demulcent (mucilaginous and soothing) properties. In this way, plantain supports kidney health.

LUNGS
Plantain also acts as an expectorant, helping remove excess mucous secretions from air passages. It is considered by some to be helpful in the slowing of tuberculosis bacteria.

VEINS
Plantain has anti-inflammatory properties and deobstruant properties that help reduce inflammation and clear areas obstructed by infection. This is also helpful for chronic infection of the lymph nodes.Some research has shown that it is helpful in lowering cholesterol (an inflammatory response) and controlling diabetes. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plantago

DIGESTIVE SYSTEM
Heartburn and indigestion are eased by use of plantain. This herb also has anti-microbial properties which help the body destroy or resist pathogenic micro-organisms -- this includes bacteria, fungi and viruses. Plantain is an alterative which means it balances the process of nutrient assimilation and excretion, restoring the body to normal function. A hepato-protective herb, plantain helps protect the liver.

SKIN
Some of the most dramatic uses of plantain involve those where it is applied topically. On contact, plantain has a healing, antibiotic and styptic (stops bleeding) effect. In a poultice, plantain is good for all kinds of insect bites and rashes including allergic skin reactions to poison oak, ivy, nettles and sumac. An anodyne, plantain is a pain reliever and soothing to skin irritation. I've seen it stop pain in 15 seconds, although this can vary. An anti-inflammatory, I've yet to see it fail to stop fire ant bites from turning into angry whelps. The astringent properties of this herb cause the tissues in the skin to tighten and dry fluid secretions. A vulnerary, plantain promotes wound healing and normalization of damaged tissues.

Other conditions that have been helped by plantain include the treatment of tumors and venomous bites.

The seeds of this herb are called psyllium seed and are used in many commercial laxative formulas. These same seeds are said to be helpful in the treatment of diabetes.

AS A FOOD
Young leaves of the broad leaf variety are tasty and can be eaten in salads.

AS A SUPPLEMENT
Plantago psyllium is a type of plantain whose seeds are used (psyllium seeds) as a fiber supplement (taken with LOTS of water) in many bulk laxative formulations -- commercial and natural. The husks of the seeds expand and become mucilaginous (similar to the texture of egg whites) when wet. This is helpful in the treatment of constipation, irritable bowel syndrome and diverticular disease.

FIRST AID
A good first aid plant to have close at hand. A few fresh leaves, crushed or chewed, can be used quickly to stop bleeding of an open wound, stop pain and inflammation of bites and stings, relieve itching from poison ivy. Its anti-toxin qualities have given it a reputation in folklore as being useful for snakebite.

TEAS, TINCTURES, SYRUPS
A cup of strong plantain tea will quell the worst indigestion. Taken as a tea, tincture or syrup, plantain can also relieve coughs and bronchitis.

ORAL PAIN
A small was of chewed leaf placed next to the gum will quiet a painful toothache until it can be attended to.

SALVE
Ointment made with olive oil extract of fresh plantain and a little beeswax is a very good general purpose remedy for many skin ailments, and is especially helpful with diaper rash.

JUST FOR FUN -- PLANTAIN WARS
During my childhood, we used to have plantain wars in the summer. We would pluck the long leggy stems and use them as ammunition. To do this, fold the stem over itself forming a loop and shove it forward while pulling backwards on the section of stem nearest the bud. This will cause the bud to pop off and shoot forward. With practice your aim can improve and catch your unsuspecting target off-guard.

CAUTIONS & CONSIDERATIONS
Do not mistake plantain for foxglove (Digitalis lanata), which has a similar appearance.

As with all herbs, avoid use of plants that have been exposed to toxic chemicals or have not been certified 'chemical free.'

DISCLAIMER: None of this is to be considered a substitute for medical examination and/or treatment. Use what you will, but do so knowing that you must consider your own circumstance and the application of these things with sound judgment.

Duke and I have known this man for an embarrassing number of years. His name is Ted Stambolitis. All of our sons have chosen at some point to celebrate a birthday at his restaurant. We've watched that restaurant grow from a busting at the seams little cafe to a major attraction in our town (still busting at the seams). He's moved since opening and built a beautiful little mall that features his place. It's the kind of eatery that veterans of war, patriots and little kids alike all have a great time.

But the NICEST thing I can say about this guy is that he is a friend. He's the kind of friend that is genuinely interested in people.

It took me a while to realize that. I'd known some less than sterling characters in my life. I should have known he was different when Duke pronounced him okay (another story, I've since learned to trust my husband's judgment of character).

This man didn't become the success he is today because we were his friends. If every friend we knew ate at his place (and we've likely dragged them all there at one time or another), it wouldn't account for much in his bottom line. But if you ever go with us to his place, you'd think that we paved the parking lot for him and gifted him the mortgage.

As it is, the most we did was gladly buy a brick with our names on it to sit in front of his establishment, and Duke gave him some stamp memorabilia to hang on his wall. I say hang. Would you believe that he has the things bolted to his walls?

Knowing this man has been a privilege. He's one of the good guys that deserves every good thing that comes his way and then some.

If all of this wasn't enough, there's yet another reason we enjoy him so much.

We seldom go out to eat. It really isn't in our budget. Z-man is getting to the stage in his life where he is conversational and very outgoing. We are working on a lot of things to do with social skills with him. We are finding that people are often nice but just unsure of what they should do. It's always a balancing act for me to try and decide how much of my time and attention needs to be spent trying to make them feel comfortable, translate Z's confusing speech and how much time I should spend reinforcing lessons learned at home . . . or figuring out when to just let things go and relax. When we go out as a family, our behavior speaks to our faith, and it shapes perceptions about what it means to be a family with a special needs child.

That's one of the reasons I just love Ted Stambolitis so much. When we visit his restaurant, he acts like we have just done him the greatest honor. He finds us the best seat and tells our server to give us the best treatment.

Today, Z-man turned 6 years old. As his brothers before him, he got to go out and eat at Mr. Ted's place. Ted greeted us warmly and inquired about our health, asked how my parents were doing, etc. When we were all done with our meal, Ted told us to wait just a minute.

He went into the back and stopped his busy staff. He collected all of them and somewhere found a candle which he stuck into a HUGE chocolate chip cookie. Moments later, they were surrounding our table, clapping hands and singing 'Happy Birthday' to one delighted little boy.

Z'man was thrilled and bounced along as they sang. Then he leaned forward and blew out the candle! In case you didn't hear that, I'll repeat it.
My little guy blew out his own candle!

Years of speech therapy. LOTS of work. We knew he had the skills, but never before this day has he spontaneously blown out his own candle. Maybe it's because we always held our own breath and watched to see if he would, if he could.

Tonight, it was just Ted and his crew cheering him on like it was no big deal.

But it WAS a big deal. Thanks to Ted Stambolitis and the Flight Deck, we all got a gift for Z-man's birthday. My boy blew out his candle. And I'm still crying just to think of it. It is SO GREAT to have those moments of normalcy.

Such a milestone. Such a treasure. A gift to us from a friend who was just doing what he always does. How do you say thankyou to someone like that? A person that goes out of his way to celebrate what is meaningful to you?

I don't know. These few words don't really convey what I'm feeling. But, if any of you are ever in the neighborhood and want a bite to eat, I highly recommend stopping in at the Flight Deck. You'll get your money's worth and then some!

I’m what my husband calls a cheap date. He grins and winks when he says that, so I’ll take it as a compliment.

The reality is that I LOVE spending time creating something or having fun without spending a lot of money. This doesn’t mean that I don’t like paying the price of admission or having a meal out every now and then. It just means that I REALLY enjoy a picnic, a potluck, repairing things, painting, hammering, etc. I like to fly when I need to get somewhere fast, but I thrill to the adventure of a car trip.

Staying in a hotel room is nice. I like to see the new features, like the time I stayed in a hotel that had a television screen built into the bathroom mirror. (Somehow it was appropriate that the Beverly Hillbillies was being broadcast.) Of course, at some point I begin to wonder about who stayed there last and used those sheets, etc. (I know, I know, the sheets were laundered and the staff works hard to ensure that everything is clean. . . . . ) BUT, I LOVE the night air as I fall asleep under the stars and awake to the sound of birds chirping.

It’s not my fault, really. I grew up in a large family and Dad insisted we camp. He trained us to be frugal and love a bargain. For Mom, it was splurging to go to the discount store and (gasp) buy something without telling Dad first. So, blame them. *smiling*

My husband had some days off recently, and we didn’t need to spend the money on a road trip to some memorable place. I must admit that I wondered if our time together would turn into a stretch of forced confinement.

I shouldn’t have doubted the creativity of my family.

The boys, with dad in tow, took several trips together while I took care of some items around the house. They enjoyed the library, the local hardware/building supply store, went to see the chicken lady about eggs and ran other assorted errands. The boys were fine with this even though it entailed looking at the back of Daddy’s head as he drove them from place to place. They were his happy escorts.

Once hubby wore himself out running, he attacked the wood pile and worked up a good sweat splitting firewood. One of his favorite things to do there is get a log too big for to handle (there didn’t used to be any of those). He will give it a good try and then call our oldest son over (he’s over 6 ft and likes to show off his muscles). It’s always a thrill to watch that boy man cut through stuff like butter.

The ‘iron man’ competition came to a halt when the rain started. It lasted long enough that hubby found things to do indoors. After he replaced the burnt out light bulbs, he decided that we would create our own seminar and outreach project.

He pulled out a DVD set on a subject he wanted to research. We started going through the series and taking notes together.

What’s fun is that my husband doesn’t necessarily agree with everything the speaker says. This means that we have an extra session at the kitchen table the next morning to hear hubby’s take on things and what his thoughts are on the matter. There’s nothing as interesting to me as getting to see how that man’s mind works.

The outreach project involves the coupon section of the newspaper. Because we don’t stock processed foods, we never use those coupons. At the local library, the boys noticed that people are exchanging coupons. So, dad & boys spend about 15 minutes each day, looking for and cutting out coupons to contribute the next time we go. It’s a learning experience as they see how very little actual food can be purchased with coupons. (We call real food something that came from the farm, without a lot of processing.)

When the rains let up, the boys moved outside where our resident 9-yr-old ‘Park Ranger’ decided to set up his own ‘National Park.’ He got this idea as he has been logging onto this site to become an online park ranger. Our grill and bench table became the ‘picnic area.’ The end of the driveway became the ‘visitor parking.’ The house is the ‘ranger station’ and the bedrooms are ‘cabins.’ The tent was set up and became the ‘camping area.’ The swing is now labeled the ‘playground.’ The woods behind the house are the ‘nature trail.’ All of this (of course) is identified by several cardboard, hand-lettered signs secured with (what else?) duct tape.

I think they even have plans to utilize the stimulus package if it ever trickles down.

This led to a backyard overnight camping trip. I declined the invitation because I am a pretty good judge of where little boys in a tent always end up. I smiled knowingly when my husband came inside the next morning telling me about whose foot ended up where and how many
times he was awakened.

Meanwhile, I had a quiet night IN.

The tent remained up and I asked hubby if we could have it to ourselves, just the two of us. He seemed pleased with the idea, but a day or two went by where he seemed to forget.

I reminded him of my request. Hubby said he wasn’t going to spend the night in the tent because it was going to rain. I can blame this one on my parents also. Every time I sleep in a tent, it rains. It would be strange for me to camp when it DIDN’T rain.

I knew the tent would be packed away soon, so I put the boys to bed one evening and kissed hubby goodnight. I said I’d see him in the morning and smiled widely. Then, I went outside to make myself comfortable.

As an aside, you shouldn’t tell little boys when you are going to sleep in the tent outside. Put them to bed and just go. If they know where you are, they WILL find you . . .

I wasn’t surprised when hubby joined me with extra pillows.

It was a WONDERFUL time. We lay there and listened to the night sounds, talked about our children, our life together, our future and held hands as a misting rain splattered on the tent. This morning, we awoke naturally to the sounds of birds greeting the day (instead of the tap-tap-tapping at our door and the little voice saying, ‘Mama?’). If you didn’t know any better, you’d think we were a couple!

My sweet husband slipped into the house and returned to our little hiding place with coffee. It’s good for old folks to sneak off together every now and then.

It’s been a WONDERFUL vacation!