Remembering My Granny

Will brought me a book to read last night. It's back cover was yellow and blue and without even reading the cover, a thousands memories washed over me. My Granny read "Blueberries for Sal" to me a thousand times when I was young. As a blueberry farmer for more than 40 years, it was an obvious favorite for her. Interestingly enough, I didn't even know we owned it. But somehow, it arrived here recently because it was still in it's cellophane wrapping. Maybe a gift from Heaven?

I think about her every day. The grief I feel for her loss kind of hits me in waves. Lots of things remind me of her and when that memory comes calling, tears find themselves stinging the corners of my eyes. She had an incredible impact on my life---some of which I couldn't completely embrace until she was gone. And as often as I have thought of her in the months since she left us, I haven't been able to find the right words to write about her. Or to write at all. I've started and put it away many times. But somehow, reading "Sal" helped me find my voice.

Legacies are essential and each of us will leave one.  My Granny, I think, has a lot of them. And probably, her legacy is different according to who you talk to. She wasn't perfect. Sometimes, especially in grief, it is easy to think that she might have been. But she wasn't. She could be cold and distant. She was tough and sometimes hard. Either by personality or because life made her that way. Probably both. She was stubborn and set in her ways. But she was inspirational to me. She was independent and strong. Despite much suffering, she was a fighter and a survivor. She was kind and generous and because she was my grandmother, I feel a deep sense of love and honor for her that erases all of the negative traits and helps me cling to the good ones. And I was lucky enough to know her. Not just as my grandmother but as Sarah. For more than a decade, I had the distinct privilege to "interview" her. To learn her story and to know her in a time before she was a grandmother. I am not sure exactly how it happened. I think I was just curious nosey enough to start asking her questions. Sometimes she answered me, sometimes she didn't. Sometimes she chose the topics, sometimes we let pictures take us down memory lane. Sometimes I asked her questions and she told me flat out she didn't want to talk about my topic. If you knew her at all, you knew she was the one that was to going to dictate the conversation. Straightforward. Direct. Honest, to a fault. And yes, stubborn. It was her way, or no way.

Me, Mom, Granny & Aunt Nancy at Christmas

Losing her, although in many ways anticipated because of her age and the decline of her health in recent years, has been an enormous loss. She has been a bedrock to me for all of my life. She lived across the street. She pulled my first tooth--I think she pretty much pulled all of the grand children's first tooth whether you wanted her to or not--although she didn't "jerk" mine out like she did poor Andrew! She gave me my first paying job. In fact, if your last name is Newton, Newton's Blueberries likely deserves the coveted "first job" spot on your resume. She diagnosed every ear infection or ailment I ever had. She cheered me on at two college graduations, never forgot my birthday, and welcomed each of my children with open arms. She never failed to notice (or mention) if I gained a few pounds but she never seemed to notice (or mention) when I lost them. She was just always there and in some ways, I know now that I took it for granted that she would always be sitting on the back porch waiting for me to stop by.

While I always knew her as my Granny, my hours of time with her enlightened me to the fact that she once lived a life as a woman named Sarah. She was stubborn---to the core. She was deeply intelligent. Fiercely independent. Well read. An honor student. She had a deep love for God, history, Clemson football and Braves baseball. She was no fair weather fan. She believed in the pursuit of education. Not only did she provide that pathway for herself, she gave the opportunity to each of her children and in turn, ensured that avenue for each of her grandchildren. She believed that opportunities not taken were in fact, blessings wasted.

She was a wife but spent many years more as a widow. She was a mother to six children, five of whom were boys. She endured the unspeakable loss of a child. It was a pain she never outlived. She was a nurse who gave lovingly and tenderly to each of the children in her care for the school district. She was a farmer who made sure that each June came with the promise of sweet blueberries for jams, pies, and her famous dump cake.  While I don't think she would ever want her church to be defined by her, her presence certainly defined her church. Through committees and the choir, VBS and Sunday School. As a lay leader and a member, she showed up each time the doors opened and her presence there and everything she did was meant to glorify God, never herself.

Donnie and I fishing with Granny

When I was a young girl, her house was my house each Sunday afternoon. Same dinner each week--Cube steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, English peas, rolls and salad. We fought over the coveted corner spot at the back porch table. It became such a popular spot with the grandchildren that she eventually created a rotation chart and whoever sat upon it, had to say grace. If you missed your turn, tough luck. Sunday afternoons were spent playing softball and kickball in the front yard, long walks around the blueberry field, and if you were sneaky enough, maybe a little fishing. Because for Granny, there was no fishing on Sunday.

Easter brought egg hunts and the race to find the "golden egg" stuffed with money that was hidden somewhere in the maze of azaleas and oak trees out front of the house. Christmas meant supper at Granny's and a living room overflowing with family who exchanged presents every single year. In fact, this year Ian was sick on Christmas and I didn't want to go to Granny's to share our germs. She called me at 4pm on Christmas day and said, "I'll see you at 6pm." And I told her we weren't going to come because Ian was sick. She repeated, "I will see you at 6pm" And we were all there. And I sure am grateful we were. I would have never forgiven myself for missing her last Christmas.

As Newtons, we cling to traditions and we aren't fond of change. At all. We don't make decisions well and our spouses often accuse of being "lost in the weeds" or "incapable of making a decision about anything." Uncle Stan has informed me that rather than a character flaw, it is actually a well developed talent.  And I thought all of my life, that because we are sarcastic and direct and not overly affectionate that we were, as a family, kind of dysfunctional. Granny, by her nature and her musings, told each of us at different times in our lives when things didn't go our way to, "Suck it up. Get over it. Move on." It seemed harsh. Unemotional. Certainly not motherly or grandmotherly advice. But in hindsight, it now makes perfect sense. Don't waste life that you have holding on to things you can't change. Accept it as a part of God's plan, trust that He knows best, and move on. Wise counsel. It is something she sort of forced us all to believe and to accept as fact. I even hear myself saying it to my own children.

What became perfectly clear to me as we sat vigil at the hospital when we knew that her time with us was coming to an end was that she had done a remarkable job raising a family that loved and respected one another deeply, even though I am not sure that until that moment that we even knew it. When we got the call, we all came home. For the 5 hours at the end, we prayed, we sang, we laughed. And yes, we cried. Together. As a family. Such strange things for us to do in general. Even more surreal that we did it all together. We relied on our faith, which was the faith that she had instilled in each of us. We trusted that He was in control and because of her relentless teachings, we know with full confidence that we will see her again in Glory.

We made decisions. Actual decisions. Quickly. Together. As a family. We created a beautiful tribute to her life. Together. Everyone had a chance to contribute. Everyone had a part. And we did it all without a cross word or argument. For a family as large as ours, full of as many opinionated know-it-alls as you can fit in one room, we managed to create something beautiful. Together. For a family that hasn't always been touchy-feely and isn't into self help, but rather suck-it-up---for all of our individual dysfunctions (and there are plenty), we somehow turned out just fine. And for all of her distant, cold, and sometimes tough love, we turned out to be none of those things. We love unconditionally, we are all loyal (and honest) to a fault. We are full of stubbornness but also overflow with willing hearts who serve our communities. She insisted on it and for fear to cross her, even now in Heaven, you better believe we will live out the legacy she would expect us to.

I think she would be very proud of us for how we have managed to come together in the weeks since she passed. She certainly wouldn't be proud of these tears I have to keep wiping from my face or that I took up this much space going on and on about her, but otherwise, I know she was proud of me. Why? Because at Christmas, we had what would be my final interview. I got to sit with her for several hours and talk. Just the two of us. We talked about subjects we had shared before, Uncle Don's death, the births of her children, her own life. But this time, she was far more introspective. No longer distant but very real. Maybe she knew her time was coming short. Maybe she was just feeling particularly chatty. Whatever the case, I cherish that final conversation most of all because she told me how proud she was of the mother I had become. She loved that I was tender and affectionate toward my kids, that I openly loved them. It was something she admitted had been hard for her to do. She was proud that I had breastfed my kids and given up my career for them---things she hadn't done herself. From her, my tough and stubborn grandmother who paid very little compliment, I received one of the most incredible affirmations of my life. And she went further. She told me how lucky she was to have the children that she did, who cared for her so deeply and tolerated her stubbornness. She told me how lucky she was to have 10 grandchildren who grew up to be good people (Andrew & Aaron, I think she was giving you far more credit than you deserved...but...just kidding...She really said it!). She told me how lucky she was to survive all the things she had to see so many great grandchildren be born. She told me she was lucky that God had blessed her with a wonderful life that wasn't always easy but that she really tried to do her best to make a difference in her little part of the world. And she did. As a mother, as a grandmother, nurse, farmer, teacher and believer.

Newton Family at Granny's Funeral

She wasn't perfect. But she was amazing. She was blessed and we were lucky to have her. She left us many legacies but I think she taught us  that God first, family next, and then everything else matters most. She expected us to suck it up on the bad stuff and to keep on, keeping on toward the good stuff. We will certainly do that. We will miss her every day and we will never forget the lessons she taught us. She was so worthy of our respect and our love. And the greatest gift she gave us, as dysfunctional as we often are, is each other. And we will keep marching forward. Together.

Coming to a Mailbox Near You...

It's Christmas time! Thank goodness for something happy to look forward to. After 3 weeks of me recovering from surgery and all of us battling flu, stomach bug & even pink eye....it is nice to set our sights on family, our faith, and spending time enjoying time together. After all, there is no time during the year that is more wonderful that celebrating the birth of Jesus!

Now keep in mind that not everything around here is gingerbread and hot cocoa. In fact, my house looks mostly like a tornado went through it. The tree is decorated but wrapping paper and crafting supplies have swallowed the dining room table. Our refrigerator, after weeks of being stuffed to the brim with the kindness of friends and family that filled us up with food, is now down to milk, orange juice, cheese and condiments. My number one goal this week is making a major trip to the grocery store...which should be interesting since I still can't lift anything heavier than a bag of sugar. But honestly, it is all small stuff because we are finally well and we are ready for Christmas!

Now for me, the fist thing I wanted to kick start Christmas season was to take the kids to see Santa. Elfie (our Elf), has been at the house for 2 weeks. He has many antics up his sleeve and Will & Ian adore him. Maggie on the other hand, can't stand him. I think they got off on the wrong foot because the very first night he was there, he got into the the cheese balls--a violation of which she has yet to forgive him. And honestly, Maggie does not like the idea of Elfie telling Santa about her behavior. Every time I remind her that Elfie is watching she will say, "No he not. He not gonna tell Santa about me cause I gonna get presents." In other words, she is who she is and not even an Elf is going to change that!

So off we go to the mall on Saturday to see Santa. While we were standing in line she said, "Can I tell him what I want and NOT touch him? He's creepy!" But Will told her that she would be on the naughty list without a picture so when the time came, she crawled bravely into his lap and talked 90miles an hour telling him everything on her list (stickers, Cinderella, a piano, a doggie and an iPad) and would not let the boys talk at all. Ian, in fact, was so worried that Santa didn't get his list that he wrote a note and asked Elfie to take it to him last night. You know, just in case. As for Mags--for someone who thought he was creepy, she did very well. She still thought he was creepy but she was excited that she told him her whole list. Now Santa must scramble to get a doggie (not sure if she meant a real one but I am going to go out of a limb and say it was just a pretend one!) and a piano!

Today, the boys had their Christmas programs at church. Ian was one of the Wise men and he did a wonderful job!Will sang "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" at the top of his lungs! He really got into it and was excited to perform for a church full of people! Which of course is not surprising since he always likes to be the center of attention. Before we left for church though, I wanted to take the picture for our Christmas card. It is always a job but this year, the Bunch made it extra tough on me. Of the nearly 100 pictures I took, there were only a few that I liked. Some I love but could never send on our Christmas card. I mean Will sticking his tongue out is cute but not card worthy. Or is it? It took me an hour to select the pics (I ended up choosing 5 for a card!). Some are cute, 2 are typical of my children but not exactly typical for a Christmas card. But you know, what is a card if it is fake and forced. So for many of you, in your mailbox very soon, will arrive our card...the good, the bad, and the typical (at least for us!). But because the pics were so cute, I made a slide show that you can find here Christmas slideshow

Have fun guessing which one's  might appear on our card! And if I don't have a chance to post before Christmas please know this:

While we love Santa and Elfie too, we look forward to this Christmas season most because we celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ! There is no gift we could ever receive that will matter as much as eternal salvation. Jesus was born to die for our sins and in this season of fun and family, we rejoice the most in the blessings of our faith. That is the true reason of this season! Merry Christmas!

Celebrating Aunt Gayle

From L to R: Grandma Ruby, Wanda & Aunt Gayle

Josh's Aunt Gayle was a special woman. Strong. Independent. Stubborn. Loyal. Loving. When she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer, doctors didn't give her a lot of positive hope. But she dug in her heels and fought a long, courageous battle. She lived longer than most anticipated, leaving us to joke that Jesus had a few things to get in order in Heaven before he could deal with her! I was so blessed to know Gayle. From day one, she treated me a like a daughter. She and Ronnie made the long drive to Charlotte with us many times when we were seeking custody of Ian and rejoiced with a celebration when we finally got to bring him home. Every time Ian went down to her house to go fishing with Ronnie, she would buy all of his favorite treats. She put her own good name on the line to help Josh get the job at Blue Eagle when the company he was working for closed. She believed in him and every step he has taken in his career and the success he enjoys, he owes to her. She loved to hear stories about Will's antics--his adventurous spirit and his stubborn streak. She could appreciate his desire to be tough and strong because those were things she valued in herself. And when Mags was born, she was thrilled! Especially since her Maggie Kate got her middle name from Gayle's mother, Katie.  She really meant the world to us and life just won't be the same without her.

I was truly honored when Wanda asked me to give the family remarks at Gayle's funeral. And because several people have asked for me to post, I have included my remarks here:

Gayle will be missed by all of us—because she was simply an extraordinary woman who was an exceptional wife, mother, sister, aunt, colleague and friend.  I was fortunate enough to marry into Gayle’s family. My Mother in law was Gayle’s niece and it is through Wanda’s eyes that I tell you Gayle’s story. 

Gayle was born in Jonesville to Claude and Katie Petty. She was the baby in her family. In fact, because she was only 12 years older than Wanda, she was much more like a sister than an aunt. She always called Wanda the daughter she never had. From the time Wanda was born, Gayle was there, helping with her, and helping to keep her sister Ruby company while Truman worked nights. Ruby was afraid to be alone at night—but not Gayle.  She wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything, except maybe spiders. Gayle went along on family vacations and her constant presence made a formative impact on Wanda. She always admired Gayle’s beauty—her gorgeous red hair and perfectly done makeup. She often propped Wanda up on her vanity and did her face up with make-up—fake eyelashes and all—often to the dismay of her sister Ruby! Ruby would always tell Wanda that she was going to grow up to be just like Gayle and Wanda simply couldn’t imagine growing up to be any other way. And Why not? Who wouldn’t want to grow up to be a strong, vibrant and independent woman like Gayle?

Gayle was a professional woman, serving as a purchasing agent for Roebuck Builders for more than 25 years. She was beloved by everyone who worked with her because she prided herself in doing her job well and doing it right. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and everyone appreciated her honesty and her integrity. But where Gayle flourished most was in the home. From Gayle, Wanda learned about all about fine food and decorating. She could make a meal that was as down home as Paula Dean and as gourmet as Julia Child. None of us will ever forget the Christmas she had us all down to her house for dinner. She prepared the most gorgeous prime rib that we had ever seen. But as she was taking it from the oven, the meat promptly fell on the floor. Every single one of us devoured that prime rib like it was the last meal we were ever going to get---because her cooking was THAT good! 

The only skill that Wanda had that Gayle did not was a green thumb. And over the years, Wanda tried to teach her a few things about gardening. When Gayle got sick, her friend Margie gave her a beautiful orchid. Gayle gave the orchid love and attention and it thrived—or so she thought—everyone who came to visit would comment on how beautiful the orchid was and Gayle was so very proud that she had managed to help this beautiful flower grow. Weeks later, Margie came to visit Ronnie in the hospital and Gayle simply couldn’t wait to tell her the success story of the orchid—a vibrant beauty that adorned the window sill, soaking up the sun and love from Gayle. After going on and on, Margie got a twinkle in her eye and broke the news to Gayle that the orchid was fake! Gayle really got a good laugh from that, especially when she needed it most.

Gayle has many legacies. She means something special to each of us. But her greatest legacy is that as a devoted wife and mother.  Married to Ronnie for 51 years, he was truly the love of her life and she always prided herself in her ability to care for him. Her son Todd, already with her in Heaven, was her entire life, the very breath that she breathed. Because of the love given to Todd by Ronnie and Gayle, Todd lived a tremendously impactful life, devoting himself to work at the Deaf and Blind School and touching the lives of every single person that he met.  His life was a testament to the lives of his parents and while we find solace in knowing that they are reunited in Heaven, we know that we will miss them both so very much.

For Wanda, Ronnie and Gayle have always been such an integral part of who she is—from her wedding and marriage to Kevin, the births of Josh and Heather, each milestone they accomplished, their weddings,  and the births of their children. Gayle always said that Wanda’s children were her children and the grandchildren were her grandchildren. In fact, when Gayle was sick, she would ask Wanda to tell her all about the grandchildren—the funny things the Jackson boys were saying or have Wanda read the latest adventure from the Burgess Bunch. Their happiness brought her peace and comfort because she loved those babies so much and they truly loved her. She was such an important part of who we are as a family and the  void left by her absence can never be filled. 

And while we know Gayle would appreciate this outpouring of love for her life, she would want to thank the many people who cared for she and Ronnie while she was sick. Her best friend Billie, her cousins Ruth, Perry & Pat, her favorite nephew Danny, her friends Sandra, Mary Ruth, Mike, Hazel & Steve. Her devoted sister Ruby. The people of Hospice took such good care of her and we cannot thank them enough for the love they gave her in her final days. 

You know, for many, death feels like a very final stage. An ending. The final chapter in a book of life. But Gayle knew differently. She knew that when her journey on Earth was finished, it was really just a beginning--The time when she got to reunite with her parents, Todd, and her risen Savior, Jesus. 

The Bible tells us that to be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord. And while we are deeply saddened by her passing, we find comfort in the memories we hold dear and in knowing that Gayle is exactly where she wanted to be—in the arms of Jesus. Thank you to each of you for coming today and celebrating Gayle’s life with us.

In Awe...

Art by Will

Sometimes, I am just in awe of my children. Okay. I am always in awe of my children. But sometimes, they truly amaze me. Not the times when they throw a tantrum on the floor, or roll their eyes at me. Not the times when they huff and puff and slam their bedroom doors. Not in those times when they are screaming at one another, or pulling each others' hair, or when they land a punch on their sibling's arm. And unfortunately, we have a lot of times like that.

But often, they display an extraordinary kindness or reveal a new ability that I didn't know they had or they say the most profound thing and I am in awe.

This past  weekend, I was trying very hard to get things around the house organized. On Friday afternoon, I decided to cut the grass. Josh has been outsourcing this responsibility (that belongs to him) and honestly, the grass wasn't really growing enough to pay someone to do it, and I knew he wasn't going to volunteer to do it himself. We were outside enjoying the beautiful weather and Mags was a total whine box. I was tired of listening to her (a moment when I was not in awe of her at all) so I went and got the push mower and started to mow the yard. I was getting the yard cleaned up and in return, I didn't have to listen to her whine! That is the kind of multi-tasking that is good for you! I had been working for about 5 minutes when I look over to see Will way up ahead of me, picking up sticks and getting them out of the way of my mower. When that task was over, he pulled weeds from my flower beds, and helped me cut back a rose bush--and never once did I have to ask him. He just saw me working and stopped what he was doing to lend me a hand.

The next afternoon, I decided to tackle the outside building. It wasn't really something I planned but it is a complete disaster. So I backed one of Josh's many trucks up to the door and just started tossing. No more than 5 minutes in and here comes both boys helping me sort and pile. I was in charge of trash, they were in charge of the pile to Goodwill. All afternoon, they worked beside me without a single complaint and never once did I ask them to help. They just did it.

That evening when we finally came inside, I reached for my wallet and handed them each $5 for all the help they gave me. We don't give them allowance. As my Mom always told me, you sit down at the dinner table three times a day and sleep in a warm, clean bed at night. I am not paying them to do things that are expected--like cleaning  their room and picking up their toys. However, whenever they go above and beyond what is expected, I am happy to reward them for their hard work. In doing so, I hope they learn that you are rewarded for working hard, not for simply showing up.

Ian immediately put his money in his bank stash and asked me to deposit it in his savings account on Monday. The child has the first dollar he ever got. He is always OK with spending my money and never OK with spending his own. (He gets that from his Mom, Hana & Poppa! We save, save, save!)  Will put his money in his wallet and asked me to take him to the store the next day after church so that he could spend his money. (He gets that from his MeeMaw and his Aunt Munkey! Chrissy always says, "You never see a hearse pulling a U-Haul. You aren't gonna take it with you!"). The best part of them earning the money? Ian asking on the way home from church how much 10% of $5.00 was. Once we did the math together, they each took $.50 from their earnings and put it in our "Mission Bucket." All of our spare change goes in the mission bucket and each quarter, we empty the bucket and donate the money to our Church's fund that supports missions throughout the world. They tossed their money in the bucket without a reminder from us. Awe.

And the amazing thing is that they do things that leave me in awe every single day. Like Will telling Maggie that she was beautiful when she tried on her Bumble Bee Halloween costume or how my boys always hold the door open for me. I am so glad their Dad has taught them that. Or that Ian made all A's and 2 B's on his report card and when I hugged him, he smiled and said, "I work hard in school to make you proud!" Will made lunch for him and Mags today, without any help from me. And on Sunday afternoon, I had a migraine and Ian vacuumed my bedroom. He told me to go to the kitchen so the noise wouldn't bother me and when I got there, he had made me a peanut butter sandwich and poured me  glass of milk. When I went back to bed, Will was there waiting with some books so he could read me a bedtime story.

Every day in our family isn't perfect. Sometimes we are grumpy, sometimes we yell at each other. Sometimes, we just aren't at our very best. But many times, my children surprise me with their kindness to me and to others. They make me proud because they work hard, they use their manners, and they choose to do the right thing. Every day, I am in awe of them. For who they are as little people, and for the big people they are growing up to be.

Welcome Back to the Madness!

Welcome back to the blog! It's been a long absence. One that I didn't entirely plan--a story I will share with you one day :) And even though I haven't been writing at all, the kids haven't stopped creating incredible stories memories!

Where should I start? School is back in session. (Thank you Lord!). All three kids are in school at some point during the week. How am I? Well, I am exhausted. One thing that you fail to truly consider when you are planning to have a baby is that those babies grow up.  Do you ever really think of that part in a real, logic way? You think about all the awesome parts of them growing up. Not the real life, every day, elbow grease parts of their raising. Not. At. All.

For instance, you fail to consider the meaning of your children's friendships. Maybe you consider what it means for them...you know to be liked, loved, treasured, by other little people. You don't actually consider that one day, long before the teenage years, they will want their friends to hang out at your house. Or  that when one of your kids has a friend over, the other kids have to each have a friend over so that it will be "fair." So before you even realize it, your house is crawling with kids--in my case, crawling with about 6 kids--at all times. You fail to think of how you are going to need  a car big enough to haul all of these kids around. (Which is why I lost my dignity at 28 and bought a mini-van). And the groceries. Oh man, the groceries. I already have 2 boys and one very hearty eating little girl who eat non-stop all day. Add 2,3, or 4 more kids in the mix and you are practically feeding the Lakers starting 5 plus the back up bench warmers. What about the laundry? Pajamas, school clothes, play clothes, uniforms. And towels. More towels. A washing machine FULL of towels. Every. Single. Day. Three loads of laundry every day or I am under a pile higher than Everest. And it isn't just the laundry of the people who live in your house. Yep, those friends again. They leave their clothes at your house so you end up washing their clothes too.  And they make a mess. Pull out ALL of the toys. Legos ...the itty bitty tiny ones...they are in every corner of the house. Homework. The list just goes on and on.

Speaking of homework, 3rd grade has been a big transition for Ian (and me). I love the SC History part of 3rd grade...not cursive or multiplication. Ian is now reading ABOVE grade level for the first time ever and is discovering all sorts of chapter books. The kid is SO smart and he just makes every single day a joy....except when he got caught cheating on a test in class--TWICE! At first, I was like, "Not my Ian. He is the epitome of strong character and high moral conduct." So when Josh and I sat down to talk to him, my first instinct was to say, "Ian, honey, did you even realize that what you did was wrong?" His response slammed me to the ground. "Yes, Mom. I knew it was wrong. I just cared more about making a 100 than I did about doing wrong." WHAT? Since when did we care if you made a 100? I am a perfectionist but I will be damned if my kids are going to grow up to be that way.

His candor and his attitude totally floored me. He wanted to make a 100 on each assignment because he viewed that as the only acceptable score. We had a long talk about our desire for him to simply learn the material. I don't give a hill a beans about what you score in 3rd grade as long as you pass. We told him all about how cheating is wrong, that honesty is one of the most important virtues. He cried. He apologized. He seemed to really get it. All was well in the world and life was restored to normal....until the next Thursday during his spelling test. Ian apparently knew he missed one of his spelling words so he pulled out his worksheet to check to make sure he spelled the bonus word correctly. So that way, he would still make a 100. The teacher didn't catch him but another student told on him. When asked by the teacher, he admitted it. So this time, I pulled out the big guns. I made him talk to my Dad. Ian and Daddy are best friends and I knew if anyone could get through to him, it was him. Dad really went after it. He gave Ian the same speech he gave to us about lying. "If you will LIE, you will CHEAT, if cheat you will STEAL, if you steal, you will KILL somebody." Some words about being "very disappointed in him" and some genuine discussion about whether or not he deserved to go hunting because of his choices and the child was begging for forgiveness. For good measure, he had to write an apology letter to his teacher, he was on restriction from TV, Nintendo, & friends coming over for 2 weeks, AND he had to sit out of his 1st football game. Tough love but important.

The next Thursday, I was on pins & needles in the car line--so afraid that Ian's desire to get a 100 had overtaken his good sense and deafened his moral compass. But I was not to worry. He came to the car, grinning from ear to ear. I said, "Well?" He opened his folder and said, "I missed 5 words---fair and square!" ALRIGHT!

And I will be honest to say that although the cheating issue really did throw me for a loop, it wasn't as nearly as trying as dealing with Will. Lord bless him, but the child is so difficult. He is in 4K this year and as far as school goes, he is very smart. He can write his name---after all, according to him, it is "just a W and three sticks." At first, he was totally digging school. As always, he is Mr. Popularity with tons of friends. I signed him up for a gymnastics class at school once a week because I thought he would love it. At first, he did. But then Labor Day happened and it was all down hill from there. Every morning became a battle. He hated school. He hated the clothes I picked out. He hated gymnastics. He even hated me a few times. I practically had to drag him in to school and he would cry when I left. As if school fights weren't bad enough, he then began fighting me over church, Sunday school, football & gymnastics. EVERYTHING.

So after almost 2 weeks of non-stop back and forth, I finally had enough. When the fighting started, I sent him to his room and told him not to come out except to go to the bathroom. Will went marching off to his room. "FINE! I love my room. I hate school!" I think he thought he had somehow won. I served him breakfast in his room. After hour one, he popped out to potty. As soon as he was done, I sent him back. He said, "Can I take some toys to my room?" It was boring sitting in a room that has no other entertainment except two bookshelves of books. He sat on his bed for 3 hours, refusing to apologize. Eventually, he took a nap. Lunch came and while he ate, he tried to start conversation. I told him that until he apologized and agreed to go back to school without argument, he was going to sit in his room. Silence. At 2pm, he finally decided to apologize. Stubborn little buzzard he is! And it wasn't an overnight transformation. In fact, it wasn't until this very week that he began to go to school without protest. And I still don't have a clue why he suddenly didn't like it. Maybe it is middle child syndrome. Maybe he is too cool for school. Whatever the reason, I am glad this little phase has passed us by. At least for now---I have a strong suspicion that most of my life raising Will might be a constant push and pull, back and forth. Hooray! Not.

Mags. My sweet, loving, Miss Piggy. She is going to preschool 2 days a week. And she is so much like me. She loves books. She loves to color. She will sit for hours on end and entertain herself by reading to her dolls. She is smart too. But man does this gal LOVE to eat. She eats all day long. The Dr. was convinced that she eats because she is bored---particularly while her "boys" are at school. She suggested I offer her healthy options and because she wasn't really hungry, she wouldn't eat them. Yeah right. She eats grapes, yogurt, cheese, applesauce, goldfish, eggs, whatever you put in front of her, she will eat it. Non-stop. And while I am glad she eats healthy options, I am always terrified that she will be unhealthy. But instead of packing on the pounds, she is growing taller and leaner. Hopefully, she got that amazing Newton metabolism that totally skipped Chrissy and me.

Mags is totally blossoming in personality. She talks 90 miles a minute all day long. Also like her Mom. She loves her brothers, always referring to them as "my boys." She is super bossy, too. She will tell them what to do and insist that "Mommy said so." She varies between the extremes of a total priss-pot that adores anything that sparkles and a tomboy that will punch you in the face. She is mean to Will, constantly taking advantage of his total adoration of her. No matter how awful and mean she can be to him, he won't retaliate. It's the only time that I seem exercise extreme self-control. And it is fascinating.

Mags is our resident tattle-tale and for the safety of all of our well-beings, especially where Will is concerned, we never discourage her from ratting out her brothers. After all, one can never be too sure that Will isn't trying to launch himself off the roof or something equally as dangerous. She isn't doing anything extra-curricular at this point, but I imagine I will sign her up for dance soon. I just can't believe she is old enough to even participate in stuff like that. While I was busy driving kids around and managing the absolute madness of our schedules, she has just grown up. She isn't a baby any more.

That is it. My baby days are over. Both in the sense that I physically can't have any more kids thanks to a messed up reproductive system and to the reality of the lessons learned from raising these. Now that we have been raising kids for quite some time, we understand all of the things we never considered before we had them. And believe me, even though there is a pang of sadness that we won't get to snuggle any more tiny, wrinkly little babes, there is a HUGE relief to know that each stage that we now survive with Mags will be the last time we ever have to endure it. After all, having three kids means it is like we really have half a dozen. And that is plenty. A few weeks ago, Will asked, "What would happen if you had 5 babies in your tummy?"  I answered that I couldn't have any more babies. Ian said, "For real?" And I shook my head in confirmation and said, "That's it. No more." Ian laughed and said, "Thank God! We already practically live in a zoo. No need to add to the madness!"

When Life Hands You Lemons...

 Get Perspective. Life is often about your outlook and your attitude. For the most part, I am a realist and an optimist. I like to see the good in everyone. No matter how bad things get, I always try to remember that there is someone who has it far worse than I do. I always try to count my blessings. Life is going to give you lemons---make lemonade. Whatever cliche' works to brighten the mood--I am all for it. After all, life is too short to let it get you down.My Daddy always says that each day that you wake up on this side of the dirt is a good one--make it count. You can be here today and gone tomorrow. The very tragic events in Aurora, Colorado on Friday morning gives us some very real perspective on that.

Even in the moments when I am not feeling positive, I try very hard to keep it in perspective for my children. I want them to learn and understand that life isn't always rosy and sweet. Life is tough. You spend time in valleys far more than you do on top of the mountain. But I want them to know that how they react and how they look at the situation is half the battle.

On Friday, the kids and I went to Asheville to spend the day with my father in law. Now I must admit, I didn't want to go. I was tired. I woke up with a headache. I just didn't want to leave my house. But I knew the kids would want to go and have fun with Poppy so I put aside my own bad mood and decided to go.  And honestly, we had a great time. I always enjoy spending time with my father in law. We took the kids to the YMCA where my in laws are members---the kids swam, played ping pong, colored, played games etc. Fun was had by all...at least until we got to the parking lot to go home.

Someone busted the window in my car (in broad day light in a very busy parking lot), and took off with my red Nine West bag and the kids' iPad. Although my red bag was empty (and thankfully my wallet was inside with me), I had not done a good enough job concealing it in the car and I am certain that it is what lured them to break the window in the first place. The iPad was under the seat but they were lucky enough to find it.

The minute I saw my window broken, I felt the flush of anger hit my face but inside, I knew that my attitude and my reaction were going to be the things that my kids remembered about this event. And of course, I figured it would be a bit scary for them because they had never experienced being robbed. At first, I was thinking, they didn't get much because I knew I had my wallet and my car is full of nothing but goldfish crumbs and french fries. Ian was the one that quickly reminded me that the iPad had been under the seat (and that I was the one that had insisted we bring it along). When I checked to find it was gone, it broke my heart to see him crying. The iPad was their Christmas gift from my parents and it was something that we used all the time. But instead of sharing in his despair, I simply said, "Honey, I know you are upset and it is okay to be upset but remember that we are okay. None of us are hurt and everything that was taken from us was just stuff and it can be replaced." And Ian responded by saying, "But its not fair." And you know, it wasn't fair. But neither is life.

I sent the kids back inside with my Father in law while employees from the YMCA waited with me for the police to arrive. They were so gracious, allowing me to use their cell phones (mine was dying and the thief stole my charger), they helped me clean glass from the inside of the car, they offered kind words, and even walked the perimeter of the parking lot to search for items from my car that may have been disguarded nearby. The officer that arrived was helpful in his own way---and shared in my crappy afternoon--the water pump on his police cruiser busted while he was writing my report and his cruiser had to be towed. But even though his afternoon wasn't ideal, he and another officer went through every surrounding area looking for any of my stuff and he even called me the next morning to check on us and make sure we made it back to Spartanburg okay. My wonderful insurance agent, Tricia, took my call just minutes before she was walking out the door on a Friday afternoon and walked me through the process of what I needed to do. My mother in law drove to Asheville to be with us and my in laws treated the kids and me to supper before we headed home. None of that kindness and generosity was lost on me in that moment.

When we got in the car to leave, Will said, "You know, I wish we could punch that guy in the face for stealing our stuff." While I kind of felt the same way, I reminded Will that we don't return violence with violence. I told him that when people do bad things, those bad choices come back to them. Our job was to  find a way to forgive the person who stole our stuff. A hard lesson but an important one. As Ian was buckling his seat belt he said, "At least they didn't steal our Target coupons." I said, "I know, right? I would have been really angry had they stolen my coupons!" We all laughed and headed home. Perspective.

My car window is being repaired today. We will replace the iPad when we can afford to do so. Life will go back to normal and probably in a few short months, we will barely remember the experience of Friday afternoon. But I hope my kids always remember the lesson. Stuff can be replaced. Gratitude for our good fortune and blessings matter. Forgiveness is required, even when we don't feel like it. Laughter is essential to deal with any crisis. And perspective---our Friday misfortune was so small compared to the real tragedy that unfolded in Colorado. Life handed us lemons but you know, that is just life.

Busy Having Fun!

The Burgess Bunch has been having a great summer---they have gone through 15 cans of sunscreen, devoured at least $800 worth of groceries, swam for hours on end, and added almost 1,500 miles on my car. Phew....and I am tired! We have spent a lot of time in the lowcountry...fishing, swimming and going to the beach. Although I must say, I am not sure these kids are related to me because they don't like the beach that much. What? Ian says, "When you go to the beach you get sand in your britches and that isn't any fun at all!" Whatever. I would rather sit at the beach with a book & beverage than be at the pool any day. So, against their will, I forced them to go to the beach and get sand in their britches more than they thought was fun!

Ian  & Uncle Lee shooting a Roman candle

We had a fun 4th of July--celebrating with food and fireworks with the Newton clan. Most of my pyromaniac cousins were missing from the celebration this year--which did make it a little less exciting and lot less dangerous--but we had a wonderful time! They also spent a lot of time fishing at my grandparent's place. The boys like to get up early to fish while Maggie and I were smart and slept in! Like all good southern belles, she doesn't like to be "hawt" and sweat. Me either. So we let them fish and sweat and get stinky while we played with Aunt Munkey. A much better way to spend our time, I think

Because it would be too difficult to catch you up on all of the things we have been doing this summer (because my blogging has been totally negligent), here is a list of some funny stuff:

As I dressed for work, Ian: Wow, Mom! You look pretty. Are you going to work? Me: Yes. How did you know? Ian: Because you only get dressed up nice when you go to work. The rest of the time, you just wear those black yoga pants and a t-shirt. Me: Well Ian, I don't really see a point in getting dressed up to just stay around the house and clean up. Ian: I guess. It is just really sad that you are only 30 and you are just letting yourself go.

 And when Ian viewed my pictures from my trip to Kentucky for ZTA Convention: Wow, Mom, you look really pretty in these pictures. And you don't have those black yoga pants on the first time. I am real proud of you. (Thanks. I guess?)

On the way to Adventure camp, I am lecturing Ian about the need to drink plenty of water. "Okay Mom. I got it. Don't go all Romeo and Juliet on me!"


Maggie: Sometimes. Sometimes, I just. Sometimes I just got to pee.

Will: Why does this tea taste so bad? Me: Because it is unsweet tea. Will: Yuck! Why are you drinking that? We live in the South and we only drink sweet tea. Ian: That's right. Otherwise you are just a poser.

Will: Life is full of moments that just take your breath away. And there are other moments when you realize, your belly is just fat and ain't nothing gonna change that.   (What? Where does he come up with this stuff?)

Ian while shooting fireworks on the 4th of July: Fire in the hole. Fire in the Hole. Fire in the Hole. This is gonna make you happy, happy, happy. (Too much Duck Dynasty!)

Will: Wanna see me jump in the deep end without my swimmies on? Me: No I don't. Will promptly jumps into the deep end--minus his swimmies--and swims to the side of the pool. Me: Wow, Will that was great! Will: I know right? And I didn't even drown one time!

Will: Wanna see me act like a monkey? Me: You already look like a monkey... Will then jumps from the bar stool about 2.5 feet where he grabs onto the top of the refrigerator, hanging on for dear life. Me: William Truman Burgess! Have you lost your mind? Will: No but I have a feeling that I am in big trouble.

Maggie: Look at my piggies, Will! Don't they look pwetty? Will: Yep. From now on, instead of calling you Fat Belly, we'll just call you Ms. Piggy!