Okay all I will say is I’m feeling this new joint by Priscilla Renea. Another youtube sensation, Priscilla trying get that one record that will put her on the map, not sure if this is it…but YOU GOT IT get’s the repeat on my ipod. Check it out and tell me what ya’ll think, by rating this joint.

The weatherman reports that Atlanta could see another dusting of snow. Which caused my spirits to sink. I know the kids are excited at the possibility of playing in the white stuff, but I am ill-equipped to handle dreary weather when it dips “down south.” 

When the weather turns icy I can think of nothing better than to curl up on the couch and read the latest release. I’m not talking about what the New York Times list tells us we should read. I’m referring to the stack of seed catalogues that receive top priority during the month of January. 

My parent's "lettuce bed."

With pen in hand and sticky notes ready, I thumb through each magazine. This is the year, I convince myself, that my garden will surpass those I see on the cover of a magazine. I’ll begin by planting a salad bed (which, by the way, should be planted fairly soon here in the south). It will produce a rainbow of  leafy goodness. Not the boring “lettuce” and “mustard” like my parents grow. We’ll have none of that in my garden. Oh no, my salad “bed” will be exotic.                   

I’ll have a garden filled with lettuce no one can pronounce: Purple Mizuna and Rouge d’Hiver, and a touch of Skyphos (to add some pink to the mix). This year, I’ll sprout my own wheat grass (have you checked out the prices of wheat grass lately?), I’ll give Dill one more try and plant Chamomile, primarily because I noticed a charming Chamomile Rake that seems to be the smartest invention since the sticky notes that now color the pages of the catalog. 

My Dad on his Bowen "tractor." You would not believe how hard both work to create a beautiful garden.

I’ll draw out my design and plant the seeds with care. I’ll call my dad and brag because my planting season in Georgia begins a few weeks before his in North Carolina. He’ll laugh, because he knows that regardless of what I plant or when, his little Bowen tractor has worked the ground into a powdery consistency that grows anything he darn well pleases. 

As an aside, last week he worked two truckloads of nearly-rotten sawdust into his garden. That’s his secret.

Find sawdust in Atlanta.  Go ahead, I dare you.

So with my purchased soil that has been fortified with fireplace ashes and a bit of goat manure, I once again begin the quest to grow something…anything better than those who’ve much greater experience than I.

Let's be honest. There is a 99.9% chance my garden will look like this, instead of my Dad's.

I’ll begin the growing season filled with hope and ignore the card which sits at the corner of the desk. This year my dream garden will become a reality. 

Enjoy those seed catalogs and remember, keep those hands dirty!

Renea Winchester is a two-time winner of the Appalachan Writer’s Award for Essay. Her work  has appeared in Appalachian Heritage, Georgia Backroads, Smoky Mountain Living and Long Leaf Style, Georgia Magazine as well as Georgia Public Radio 90.1 FM. She is a frequent contributor to http://Southernauthors.blogspot.com and http://www.grit.com Her memoir, In The Garden With Billy: Lessons about Life, Love and Tomatoes, was released October 2010,  by Little Creek Books.   She may be reached through her website.

I want to celebrate life.  I want to very carefully balance guiding and discipline with enjoyment and fun.  When asked for parenting advice, someone wise once said “Say ‘yes’ as often as you can”.  Meaning, save the “no’s” for when they really matter.  If at all possible to say yes…. then say “yes”!

So…. this morning I said YES.  The kids are celebrating life this morning by eating trifle for breakfast (relax, it’s not like its a chocolate trifle).

A terrible picture, but the kids are pretty great.

I thought my wish for Mother’s Day was to be able to sleep through the night.  But I guess Joshie was so excited about wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day, and he really wanted to be the first to do it, so he woke up at 2:00 this morning to do so.  I nursed him, because I am fairly certain that at 10-1/2 months old he still needs to be eating in the night.  But as I looked down at his sweet, soft, round race I got a little teary eyed.  What a precious gift my children are.  I want to soak up every possible second with them.  I wish with everything in me that there was a pause button I could push, to make them grow up slower.  But, try as I might to slow them down, the are growing up so fast.  So I try to savor every moment I get with them.  Even at 2 in the morning.

Today was a most glorious day, indeed.  I woke up before my husband and kids so that I could have a shower and get ready before they did, in hopes that we would actually make it to church on time.  After I was dressed and the house was still calm, I came downstairs to get Sammy his nice warm milk (is there even any other kind of milk?) and there was a huge bouqet of flowers waiting for me on the kitchen table.  My sweet husband must have helped the kids get them for me.  They are beautiful.  Pretty good way to start the day, I’d say!

Then the kids all woke up in good moods (a bigger blessing than you might think).  Sam even ate breakfast without making a mess or crying!  Renea and Sam had cute cards for me that they had made together. 

Then we piled in the van, and got to church WITH 5 MINUTES TO SPARE!!

We spent the afternoon together today, my family and I.  How I love them so.  Dean and Sam steamrolled around the front yard, Josh ate bark mulch, and Renea and Sam rode their bikes up and down the street for a good hour together.  My heart wants to burst with love. 

I thought I wanted sleep.  But my family knew better.  They knew that I just wanted to be with them.  To love them and be loved by them.  What a blessed Mama I am!

I love how our backyard comes to life in the spring.

This evening was the second evening in a row that the kids dragged Dean outside and had some fun!  I watched them and smiled.  This is my husband, my kids, and even my dog.  This is my family.  They make my heart sing.

Sam sharing his "ice" with Josh

Sam running the ball

Somehow, it is easier to get along outdoors!

I love my family.  I love my kids, even when they are fighting.  But, it does this Mama’s heart good to see her family all playing together and happy.  Oh, my heart is full of love tonight.

I did LOTS of chores when I was a kid.  I am still scarred by it, in fact.  Ha.  But really, in my memory, I did a lot to help around the house.  I did the normal stuff, like be responsible for the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of my own room, set the table, bring down my laundry.  Between my brother and I, we emptied and loaded the dishwasher, vacuumed and mopped the floors, mowed the 100-acre wood.  With a push mower.  And bagged it.  And wheel-barrowed it to the compost pile.  It might not have been 100 acres.  But I bet it was easily 1 acre.  And we really did mow it with a push mower.  And bag it.  And wheel-barrow it to the compost pile.  Which was WAY behind the house.  But anyway.

Renea is 12.  I am trying to a do a good job as a parent.  Part of my goal is to help her grow up to be kind and caring and well-mannered and respectful… and a hard worker… and self-sufficient.  For the past year or so, Renea has had “chores” to do (in theory anyway).  She is responsible for cleaning her room, bringing down her laundry, picking up the dog poop outside (her job by default really- I refuse to do it, and I can’t exactly command Dean to do it…) and tidying her bathroom once a week.  It takes her all of 5 minutes.  Last week I brought up the subject with Dean.  I thought it was time Renea helped around the house a little more.  I was SHOCKED to hear that HE HAD NO CHORES when he was a kid!!!!!!!  I guess he turned out okay, but anyway… being that Renea is a girl and will likely one day have her own home to take care of, I thought she needs to start learning how things are done…

So Renea and I talked about it.  Renea seems quiet and passive, but let me warn you:  She is quite the negotiator.  As soon as I mentioned the word CHORES, she countered with the word ALLOWANCE.  Don’t worry about me though; I like a good deal, and I can hold my own.  So here is what we settled on: She still has to do her normal stuff for “free” because that is just part of living in this family.  Then we decided that unloading the dishwasher is worth 50 cents a load, vacuuming is worth $1 and folding and putting away a load of laundry is worth 50 cents.  The potential is there to make some decent money… in 12-year-old terms, anyway.  She can do as little or as much as she likes.  I will not nag.  But if she wants to make money, she has to do the work.  She was so excited.  She made a chart on the computer.  She got a pen and taped it to the fridge beside her chart, so that she can check off what she’s done and at the end of the month, we add it all up and I pay up.  Oh.  But if she doesn’t do her regular chores… she owes ME $1. 

That was yesterday.

Since today was the first day, I gently asked her if she would like to vacuum.  “No Thanks”.  After dinner, I ran the dishwasher.  When it was done, I casually mentioned that it needed to be unloaded.  She looked at me funny, and said “okay?”  as if that was a crazy thing to announce.  And as soon as I am done this….. I have about 6 loads of laundry waiting to be folded.

Hmmmmmm, I wonder if I am going to end up making some money out of this arrangement?  I have a feeling that will only happen once or twice before we all get the hang of how things are supposed to go!

(For the purpose of being fair, Sam has his “chores” too, although he is slightly more excited than Renea about the whole arrangement.  Josh still gets a free ride.  But don’t worry that gravy train will end soon enough!)

Fast forward a few years.  And they did move forward FAST, for the record.

Sometime this past fall, Renea became a full-fledged “tween”.  Suddenly she wanted her hair cut in layers, like girls in middle school have.  She suddenly stopped wanting to wear the cutsy shirts I always find at Wal-Mart and Superstore, and prefers to wear the clothes her Grandma gets her from the Garage.  She wears nail polish.  And she changes the color almost daily.  Her earings match her outfits.  But not in a tacky, little kid way.  They compliment more than match, actually.

Renea LOVES to go shopping.  Yesterday, i thought I would be a fun, cool mom and take her to the mall.  She wore her skinny jeans and her layered tops, put on her boot (NOT gum boots, for the record) and her cool hoodie.  I wore my church pants, sensible flat black shoes, the cleanest t-shirt I could find, and a jean jacket (I thought that was hipper than my black Costco find).

I have to say, I felt like a complete tool walking through the mall with her.  She tried on her size X-small tops in Bootlegger, and while I waited, I saw myself in the mirror.  I took in my outfit.  My hair.  My purse.  Even the bags under my eyes.  I am an uncool mom.  Full-fledged.  I tried to chat casually with the girl who worked there as she rang in our purchase.  Instead of a response I got a snotty look, a shrug, and no answer at all.  Hmm.

Renea even called me Grandma at one point.  Although, I think it is safe to say that her Grandma dresses better than me.

Oh well.  We came home.  We had a mediocre dinner.  And then we had dessert.  Renea said “yum, I love this dessert”, and I felt redeemed.

And now, I have a 2 year old that thinks I am pretty cool, and he is waiting for me to come play with him.

(My 8 month old probably thinks I am less cool, since I just let him cry himself to sleep while I wrote this post.)

Last night I got to spend quality time with my 2 youngest.  Quite a bit of quality time.  Between the two of them, they kept me so occupied that I had a total of about 4 hours (broken up, of course) in my own bed.  Every time I heard little Joshie cry, I would sigh, swing my oh-so-tired-legs over the side of the bed and stumble my way to his room.  But then when I lifted him from his crib, sat in our chair and cradled him to my chest, suddenly it was okay.  There is something about the quiet of the night, when the rest of the house is sleeping and it is just me and my baby.  When I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing against me.  When he falls into a deep sleep and snuggles his body just a little bit closer to mine.  Love doesn’t get any better than that.  I am lost in the moment.

And then I get over the moment.  I put him back in his crib, creep out of his room, tiptoe back to mine… fall back into bed, snuggle into my pillow, let out my breath, close my eyes…..

And hear,  “Mommy, it is too windy for me”.  Which is Sammy’s way of telling me that he is cold.  So I went into his room to find that he had thrown up all over his bed.  I cleaned him up, got his settled, went back to my bed…..

And repeated the cycle a few times.

Finally at about 5:45 I just brought Sammy into my bed.  Which he promptly puked all over.  (Sorry Dean).  We got changed, came downstairs and he is now watching Dora.  Dora makes everything better, by the way.

So, while I am so exhausted I am not sure how I am sitting on this chair, I can’t help but feel full.  Full of love and joy and contentment.  Full of pride that these children are mine.  Full of amazement at how beautiful they are, even when they smell terrible.  Full of amazement that this is the life that God has given to me.  Full of honor that I have been given the charge of raising these precious souls to know and love God.

And with that fullness, I better get going.  I have a 12 year old that would like pancakes for breakfast, a 2 year old that needs a wipe, and an 8 month old that needs to be rescued before he smashes his face on the fireplace hearth.  Oh, and a dog that wants to be let back in.

Happy Saturday!

Renea (the 12 year old) and Sammy (the 2 year old) are currently playing “hair dresser” and I just heard the words “ALERT! ALERT!” from upstairs, and am now being beckoned….

So with that introduction, I will have to sign off.  All my enthralled readers will have to wait with baited breath for my next post.  Until then…………..

thee girls who bring me joy!! [well at least some of them!

Ok well, I’m sitting in my room eating sushi and listening to my favorite singer [Priscilla Renea], and the thought of friends came across my mind…and so I decided to talk about it!! OK well last semester i went through my share of drama and ka-floma with a couple of girls I thought were my “friends“. Well to make a lloonngg story short, we are no longer friends and I now have met a lot of people that I actually like and enjoy to be around! I enjoy having something planned all the time on the weekends and sharing laughs and inside jokes and etc; and not that I have let the drama go, I am now at peace and I am truly having fun!! It’s funny when I sit back and laugh because now my ex-friends, are wondering what I’m doing and who I’m hanging around, when if they had their stuff together, they could be doing the same thing!! My mom would always tell me, you won’t find you’re true best friend until you get to college. Well I already have my besties that I’ve grown up with since elementary, but regardless, it still feels good to have those confidantes you can go to in college! So basically, can you count on one hand how many friends you have? What is the definition of a friend? What traits do you look for in a friend? I personally have three friends. A friend is someone like you. And what I look for in a friend?? Well simple…driven, educated, talented, respectful, funny, and someone who “like me”! Remember: Birds of a Feather Flock Together!” So that’s my life lesson for the week…until next time….may GOD bless you all!

**Muah**

BRACES

My kids are growing up!

I may need a second job!

Proverbs 23:24  “The father of godly children has cause for joy.What a pleasure to have children who are wise.”

New talent with a fun new track, will dig in and get back to you.