Drive Home from Louisville

Thinking about my drive home from Louisville reminds me of a definition of sailing: hours of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror.

Coming down Monteagle it rained so much that it was hard to see. In heavy traffic I started to hydroplane. Went across 2 lanes of traffic and was getting close to the barrier that separates traffic from a very big drop off. I then remembered that my brakes are magic in that they operate independently. So brake I do and regain traction. Of course I'd violated the rule about not turning the wheel, so I veered back into the middle lane. A little swerving, and on I go. Heart goes thump thump thump (thumpthump-thumpthump).

Jamey and Debby, I'm sure you remember our time in Dad's Audi on I-285 when we had a similar experience.

Jamey, you said, "Mommy, are we having an accident?"

"We're about to," I reply.

Then somehow, (once again in heavy traffic) after being all over the road and headed straight for the median at one point, we pulled out and were fine.

You two were still single digits, age-wise. We had recently talked about what angels were/did, and I remember Jamey saying you thought an angel had kept us safe.

I agreed.

Whether it's an angel or their Master, I do feel humbled and watched over. Thank-you, Lord.

Love you guys.

A Week in Louisville

Alysia and Bruce celebrated his 40th at Fort Walton Beach, and Grams stayed with the Wilson three.

My teacher-friend Kim Crossman told me not to worry too much about the kids homework, "Just be sure the teachers know their grandmother is staying with them this week." Alysia had handled that.

So the belt I couldn't find, which is part of Connor's school uniform, was overlooked as was plenty more, I'm sure.

Here's one day in the life of Grams and the Wilson three (mostly just one of them):

TUESDAY.

3AM, as is frequently the case, I was wide awake. Turned on NPR music; 10 minutes later, still awake; finally turned on light and read a chapter of The Professor and the Madman. That’s problematic, as the book is too interesting. Guess I need Dabney’s Theology. Light off, radio turns on again at 6:00AM. Kids don’t need to get up until 6:20 for school.

Oh no! It’s 6:34. UP KIDS!!

Some earlier permutation of that which is me had laid out school clothes, set table for breakfast, and put back packs by the back door. 45 minutes later everyone was dressed, beds were made, they looked cute, and were outside waiting for carpool. They remembered to brush their teeth. Good thing. That they did it last night would not have been adequate.

Now it’s just Caroline and me. When the big kids are here she gravitates to where they are playing and entertains herself. Now she is my shadow. I try to remember what Bruce told me about how to make the TV/DVD player work and finally have Caroline mesmerized before the screen. I make my second cup of tea and read more on how badly Judah (the country) treated Jeremiah (the prophet). Presumably Jeremiah didn’t keep grandkids when he was 60; the Lord had told him to buy a field but did not allow him to take a wife.

Well, the child can’t spend the day in front of the box even if I am the grandmother. Oh yes, milk is low. We climb in the car and drive to Kroger. Pushing a child in one of the 6-foot long kid’s grocery carts could be prerequisite for 18-wheeler training school. The first time Sarah talked me into one of them I almost took out several display cases. Now I’m a pro. We get milk, eggs, orange juice, and I successfully sneak some chocolate into the cart.

Back Home: I spotted a coffee container. Alysia told me she had bought some for me. I pull it out. A large Kroger container of, WHAT? Lite coffee with ½ the caffein? Child, did I fail you so badly as a parent? Oh well; make the best. Later my eye falls on a 12 oz bag of Starbucks. Ah. What a beautiful child she grew to be.

Caroline eats her snack. Goldfish are the empty calories of choice. When she finishes we will go outside. The Wilsons have some great playground equipment, and unless her interests have changed, she would like nothing more than to ride in the swing.

Lunchtime. The phone rings as we are looking at books. A perfectly content child becomes distraught: Caroline, I am on the phone, you may not have more goldfish, but when I am off the phone, in about 90 seconds, I will fix your lunch. It’s an emergency, and I know where the peanut butter and jelly are, so for the second day in a row, that is lunch. I haven’t had such repast in a few years; PB&J is so good, I don’t mind the repeat one bit, more important, Caroline doesn’t seem to mind.

Nap time, then carpool home from Highlands Latin School. Callie looks very tired. Long day for the second grader. Long day for Grams.

Lights out at 7:30; Grams not far behind.

Top THIS

The moment you all (especially Debby) have been waiting for.

Tracker the Great

I guess Tracker's about 4 months.

Over the weekend he was playing cat and cricket, finally making the kill and then savoring his meal. This morning as I watched him play cat and ant I worried that he was going in the wrong direction. Will he graduate to something more substantial or will he spend his days as the brunt of cruel jokes from Pops?

Well. Ahem; or ta-ta-ta-ta-kaboom; or, and now ladies and gentlemen, or something.

The younger two Quattro kids were at the house while their mom went to Baylor to pick up the older ones. The kids decided to go outside to look for the cat.

"There's and animal on the doormat," Hudson announces.

Surely this one is bigger than an ant and probably larger than a cricket. Tracker does have to his credit one mole as well as an assist on a baby possum, but nothing lately.

Oh my gosh. There's a squirrel out there. It's head is mostly gone, but otherwise, well, it is a squirrel. And no baby piss-ant squirrel either.

I was in bare feet, and Jon had just come by to pick up Sarah and Cora, so he graciously did the honors of depositing the latest "Chipper" in the garbage.

Well, things are looking up for the strawberry patch and for the apple trees. We got a real man cat living out there with old Fischer.

Looking forward to reading about Jamey's cross country run on Saturday, and hearing how Debby's crunches went.

love you guys.

barby Gifford said...

Okay, so I'm breathless. I'd heard of the Los Gatos Dammit Run, but my mind doesn't go there. Something bad has happened. (I'm thinking.) Why else does his blog title say "dammit run". Then I realize that's the name of the race, so Jamey's fine. Then I read "mishap"; blood pressure up a bit; then I read "SMACK". Oh my gosh; why am I just hearing about this? (I wonder.) I read on, he's fine I'm glad to hear, he met a ditch, but not a fateful stone like the one that once snapped his 5th metatarsul. Suppose he suffered from some good-natured comments from guys at work; suppose his knees are still a pretty sight, but all's well.

So, my 31-year-old son with a beautiful wife and a serious job is not washed-up, just cleaned-up.