Blowing Dandilion pods.  Swinging on a creaky backyard swingset until it rocked in the dirt.  Slides.  Mother May I.  Olly olly oxen free.  Can't you hear it.  Does a crisp fall evening tickle your memory?  Can you hear the leaves crunch under your feet as you rake them into a huge pile?  Do you anticipate the delightful feeling that comes when you sink into the "haystack" of leaves?

Bubbles.  The dog snaps at each one as you blow it through the tiny little wand in your bottle of bubbles.  Water balloons tossed through the air and lobbed hard at your ankles.  Soaked.  It's a good feeling.  The lazy summer evening air is still hot and the water feels good.  Chlorine perfumes the air and mingles with the scent of sunscreen.  Cicadas sing in the trees.  Lemonade stands.  Firecrackers.  Roll out those lazy hazy crazy days of summer...

Damp earth.  Red Light/Green Light.  Jump rope. 

Down by the ocean, down by the sea...

The green is so vivid!  Baby animals are everywhere.  Birds sing again.  Bicycles down sidewalks and the wind in your hair as you fly past the mailboxes.  Wagons bouncing over clod hills.  Springtime afternoons after school hold dear memories...

Frost.  Snow.  Christmas carols and tree lots.  Making snow angels and playing Red Rover bundled thick in heavy parkas.  (they cushioned the fall too!)  King of the Mountain.  Men in Santa suits ringing bells in front of stores.  Hot Chocolate.  Paper Snowflakes.  Real Snowflakes.   Corncob pipes and ice skating.  Mittens, one always lost or left behind.  Heady spices of ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves.  Winter days squeeze the heart of my memories.  I love them all.

I read This Blog today and the memories came flooding back.  We did things that children today have never experienced.  I rode a bicycle without a helmet.  I felt the wind through my hair as I raced down streets with my arms crossed in front of me.  No hands!  I played Red Rover, Dodge Ball, King of the Mountain, and tackle football without "gear".  I rollerskated on four wheeled skates and the only one I ever saw injured outside of a scratch or a bruise here or there was me.  Age fifteen.  I broke my wrist in a roller rink.  My kids don't know what it is like to ride a bike down a street and have the wind whiste through their hair.  I feel kind of sorry for them.

You know, the only thing I ever regretted for my children was the lack of games like Red Rover and Dodge Ball and King of the Mountain.  You can't play those games with just three or four kids.  It's kind of hard even if all nine were playing (with one being two and one not even home anymore, that takes away that idea!) to get up a good game.  But now that I know they couldn't anyway, I don't feel so bad.  I think we'll have to try to find a way to alter the games just a bit so that we can play them.  Just once even.  Maybe some day they'll tell their children about the day they played Steal the Flag and jumped rope with grandma.

I think we need that day to be soon.  As it is, tomorrow I'll buy bubbles.  Lorna and I will sit on the back step and blow bubbles.  I imagine Jenna, Andra, and Ethan will join us.  Sergeant will certainly be there and will probably try to eat our bubbles as fast as we blow them.  And maybe, just maybe, someday Lorna will be typing away on her own blog about how she remembers summer evenings blowing bubbles with mom and dad and giggling over Sergeant trying to keep up.

Positively Plaid!

Challice has been busy and has this to prove it!  So proud of that girl!

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1.  The real Chautona does not have a clone.  (Although I wish I did!!!)

2.  The real Chautona yells at her children, ignores necessary housework, and gets snippy with her husband.

3.  The real Chautona is not dresses only, but most people in our town don't know that.

4.  The real Chautona doesn’t like to homeschool and wouldn't do it if she didn't have to.

5.  The real Chautona lives QF as a personal conviction/preference but does not believe it is Biblically MANDATED.  (Biblically supported YES)

6.  The real Chautona doesn't schedule her time wisely on a consistent basis, and while CAN be organized… isn't always.

7.  The real Chautona forgets to do what isn't automatic, but rarely forgets what she has already done.   (This includes bill paying)  (Pregnancy doesn't count)

8.  The real Chautona occasionally has debt to pay off, and knows what real debt looks like.

9.  The real Chautona sews too much, reads too much, talks too much, and is just as self-righteous and sinful as the next woman.

10.  The real Chautona watches movies, old and new, listens primarily to oldie moldie 'secular' music, and doesn't like organs, flutes, or Chopin.

11.  The real Chautona writes fiction, reads fiction and doesn't mind if either of them includes moderate romance as long as there is more to the story than just the romance.

12.  The real Chautona has days (albeit rare) where she ignores her children's poor behavior, loses all control, and calls her husband home from work with threats of "if you don't get here soon, I might not be here when you get here."

13.  The real Chautona loves a good joke, enjoys a funny story, and doesn't take herself or life too seriously.

14.  The real Chautona wrote bootcamp for a REASON.

15.  The real Chautona loves the Lord, her family, her friends, but is just as snippy, irritable, irascible and frustrating as the next woman.

16.  The real Chautona says it like it is, doesn't apologize for standing on her convictions, and doesn't expect less of anyone else.

17.  The real Chautona doesn't have it all together, doesn't know much of anything, and would love to grow up someday… but doubts it'll happen.

18.  The real Chautona hopes you'll like her for who she is, not for what the Internet tends to portray her to be.

With all of the wonders and delights that surrounded our wedding preparations, there was a small cloud that hung over us like mini thunderheads.  Only our immediate family (husband and children) would be at this wedding.  Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... they were all too far away or too busy to be able to come.  While we understand the limitations that Alzheimers and the rising cost of gas brings, it was still a difficult thing to realize that there would be no extended family to help us celebrate.

The groom's family is great and extended.  He had aunts, uncles, all seven siblings and most of their families and even his sister-in-law's mother came!  For a short while, as I watched the photographs being taken, I was disappointed to realize that our family wasn't here to share in that special day.  I understood... and still do.  It wasn't some kind of slight against us to be taken personally.  And I didn't.  But, none-the-less, it did hurt to think that she was not surrounded by the family we love so dearly and see so rarely.

I'd been teased for months about whether or not I'd cry.  I came the closest I thought I'd come when Kevin walked her down the aisle at the rehearsal, Lorna perched on his arm just as Challice had perched on my father's arm as he led me down the aisle just over 17 years ago.  I did get quite a large lump in my throat but tears had no intentions of falling.

The wedding was delightful and I laughed so hard at Pastor Neipp's impromptu shotgun, that I should have cried!  The day rolled on and many blessings flowed in so many other ways.  I'll be blogging about those later.

Then, the next day, as I tried to edit pictures from the four days of preparation it began to sink in.  I looked at picture after picture after picture and my throat swelled.  I saw Wendy and Kristy there with Wendy's children.  They'd travelled from Idaho, rested overnight and then came to my house the next day with sleeves rolled up ready to work and with their merry hats on.  It was so nice to finally meet her.

Dell and her family with their cheerful smiles and sweet faces shone back as I scrolled through picture after picture.  They drove over 1000 miles to get here.  I've known Dell for over 5 years online... but finally got to meet her at this wedding.

Ahh... Kiersten.  My dear Kirky.  She flew from Kansas to work tirelessly to help this wedding be all it could be.  I've never met her before either.  She's a dear sister though, and her contribution to the success of this wedding can be seen in every lovely picture so painstakenly taken.

There was Dawn and her family.  I've only met her twice before, and for just a few hours, but she was there, driving me for more icing, frosting cakes, decorating tables and brightening the room with her endearing smile.

Amanda came with her two children.  It was like she hadn't been gone for a year and a few months since her last visit.  She chattered and delighted us with her amusing stories as she whisked all the little disorderlies into perfect order.  I've only met her twice before as well but she was predictably helpful and I dont' know what we'd have done without her.

Adrienne shopped, and went for flowers, and ran errands, and in general, made sure that all the little details weren't forgotten in the grand scheme of big things.  I cannot tell you how thankful I am for that.

Our local friends worked hard as well, and other online friends drove up and spent precious time from family and gas dollars and motel dollars to be here.

As I went through all the pictures and saw the great extended Neipp family, I was blessed.  As I remembered the photographer trying to make me understand that she wanted aunts and uncles and cousins... and me trying just as hard to make her understand that I DID understand but there just weren't any...  I was sad.  And then I got to the pictures of all the work these dear ladies did.  The local 'aunties' who stepped up to the plate and made potato salad, and loaned dishes, and shopped, and made flowers for cakes and cleaned and... oh boy they worked hard.  I'm so thankful. 

As I look at the lovely ladies I've known for years but just got to meet, I cried.  It was beautiful, and they worked so hard.  Never having met us, they put their time, money, and elbow grease on the line so we could have this marvelous day.  It is because of them that I wasn't stressed the day of the wedding.  They took that burden on their shoulders.

Our family couldn't come to this wedding... but our family was here. I am so blessed and thankful. Words cannot express my gratitude to my dear sisters. 

Our family is finally recouperating from the delightfully exhausting ordeal known as a wedding.  Yes, my eldest daughter is the domestic despot of her own realm. But that is a bit off topic from my intended ramblings.

We've all heard horror tales of Bridezillas or worse, their interfering mothers.  I was determined not to be such a mother myself, and certainly didn't want my daughter to look back on her wedding preps with shame.

I did make one fatal flaw, however, and the result was less than satisfactory.  You see, my wedding was a fiasco from the moment I said I'd marry Kevin.  This is because I was young, stupid, and eager to ask for help.  That combination is a recipe for lack of discretion in WHO I asked.  I'll never forget going to the only person I knew that'd had a wedding in the past 5 years and saying, "How do I do this?" 

A whirlwind rush of plans flowed before my brain could register that she'd begun to speak.  "Well I'll be your matron of honor, my husband can be the best man, my daughter can be your flower girl, my son can be your ring bearer... then Kevin's brother can be a groomsman... does he have another friend he wants..."

The rest of the wedding planning went like that until 2 weeks before when I snapped.  I countermanded a few of her decisions and the result was ugly.  I vowed to never let my girls be put in that position. 

When Challice got engaged, I realized, now was the time.  This was HER wedding and we were going to have this thing how SHE and her fiancee wanted it to be.  As a general rule, I see some wisdom in that.  After all, if they wanted a morning wedding, insisting that they do it in the evening would have been disrespectful and would have likely caused much friction.  Had they wanted peach and seafoam for colors, while they aren't my favorites, there wouldn't have been a reason to argue the idea. 

However, in my zeal to avoid the mistakes of MY past, I created a few in this little shindig.  It was nothign serious, and fortunately no lasting damage to any relationships appears to have been done.  But I learned a few things that I'd like to share with future brides and mothers of the bride.

1.  The parents, if they are paying for the affair, are the hosts.  They are the ones to whom the 'success' of the affair reflects.  If the comfort of the guests is compromised by a decision by the Bride and Groom, they cannot assume blame and go merrily on their way.  The parents will be held responsible and it is wise for the bride and groom to remember that when making requests.

2.  Sometimes, the least expensive route costs everyone more.  Trying to save parents money is an admirable goal.  Not everyone can afford to create a lavish wedding and keeping the tab down is one way of showing respect for your parents.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that David and Challice did not ask for or expect a many thousand dollar affair.  However, some of the things that they opted to do without, in the end, cost us more in time and trouble and even a few dollars than had they asked if avoiding the things would help.

3.  Weddings are not just about the Bride and Groom.  This was a hard lesson for me.  I always thought that the attitude that the wedding was the 'bride's day' was a terribly self-centered idea.  I truly believed that it was "THEIR" day and that they should have things exactly how they wanted them, assuming the parents can afford it.  I now believe I was wrong.  The wedding is about uniting two families and in the process, creating three.  It is a uniting and a dividing at the same time.  Everyone's comforts, and considerations (within reason of course) really should be considered.  In my extreme zeal to ensure that they had THEIR day... I actually encouraged a bit of selfishness in two of the most unselfish people I've ever met.  I was wrong, but I've learned my lesson.

4.  The Bride is still under her father's authority until he gives her at the ceremony.  I knew this in my head, but a few practical situations drove it home.  We so often deferred to the Bride and Groom's wishes that for a time it felt as if Challice was under David's authority rather than ours.  This wasn't true and it wasn't THEIR attitude that caused this situation, but it did teach me to be careful how we did things in the future.  A less mature and respectful man would likely have taken advantage of the situation.

5.  The things that go wrong will often be some of the best parts of the whole thing.  I cannot tell you how many little things I had to just let go.  The lace of the gown had to be patched.  Oh well... it became symbolic.  That was so neat!  The bridesmaids dresses went through so many redos and revisions it became funny. 

The cakes were frosted with too soft frosting and didn't look professional.  All the work our dear Lisa did to make those beautiful flowers... and she had to put them willy nilly on lopsided and crumbly cakes.  But you knwo what... those cakes make me smile.  My daughter's wedding cakes were decorated by friends and siblings.  Nolan decorated one by himself.  That memory is worth so much more than a picture of a perfect 'bakery' cake.  The memory of me baking batch after batch after batch is more endearing to all of us than just having some frothy confection arrive at the reception hall.  I'm not saying we'll NEVER have a cake like that... but this time, it's special.

The programs were printed 1.5 hours before the wedding on our laser printer.  Our friend typed it up and in the process, somehow married off our second daughter.  She was listed as MATRON of honor.  Oh well.  It's one of those funny things that means a lot in the end.  It's a memory.  A dear enchanting memory of fun and laughter. 

My natural tendency is to let things like this really bother me.  I have a deep desire and sometimes NEED for perfection.  Somehow, in all of this, I managed to let that go and instead, strive for a memory.

I think I succeeded too.  As Kevin and I drove to church to dress Lorna and start the final prep... I turned to him and said (greatly surprised too!) "I'm not stressed!  How is it that I'm not stressed.  Busy, yes... but not stressed."

So, I did.  I learned a lot.  Our next wedding, should I be the financier, will definitely have some changes... this was a learning experience.  But most of those are things that will change because I will have changed, not because Challice and David were so terribly unreasonable.  They were gracious, thankful, and David's final words were... "You've exceeded our expectations.  Everything was lovely."

I pray that life will be as warm and rich for them as this beginning of their life together was.

Rosy Lorna has chosen to walk rather than crawl most of the time.  She's quite comical about her little steps.  She thinks she's 'something' and expects us to agree.

Dancing.  She's been dancing for months now.  For at least two-three months she'd sand up in the middle of the floor and bee bop without moving a foot.  Put on the themesong to MacGyver and she'll bop all over the spot.  (She dances like papa... doens't move a foot you know).  Both computers have MacGyver on it.  Anytime she looks bored, forlorn, or cranky, one of the kids will start it playing and voila.  Happy Lorna.

I am learning lessons from her that I never took the time to learn from her siblings.  She wasn't in a rush to do it just because she could.  She also delights in her abilities.  She loves that she can walk and she does it.  She enjoys every little step.  She thrives on the attention we lavish upon her and yet doesn't seem to take it for granted. 

How I wish that I was as eager to enjoy what I do, when I do it, and without the encumberances of a lifetime of repetitions that tempt me to be less than grateful.  Yesterday I was working on a new book idea.  The main character has spent a year in prison before being acquitted of the crime.  Once home, she eagerly brings the trash can to the curb.  She finds scrubbing a toilet that has only her germs rewarding.  Washing a floor that has only had her feet on it is so nice compared to the filth she scrubbed while locked away. 

Why do we not try to remember that each day here on earth is a gift, and each day here on earth is one day closer to a life we can't comprehend?  I must daily remind myself of so many things.

"His mercies are new every morning."

"Today is fresh, with no mistakes in it... yet."

"Today is the first day of the rest of my life."

... so many things.  I'm sick.  I feel sick.  I hate coughing, I am so tired of coughing.  BUt you know what?  I am alive.  My children HAVE a mother.  Some don't.  My husband has a wife (even though he might not feel like it right now.)  some men don't.  I have access to health care, good food, and a comfortable bed.  Many would love those things.  I am not likely to die of this cold/cough.  Can the rest of the world be so confident?

Gratitude and Joy.  They go hand in hand don't they?  Appreciate the little things and rejoice in all things.