Einstein - The Smallest Horse In The World

This is too cute and has kept me occupied for a while.

Count down

Yep.It's that time, only 11 more school days for the baby. I wonder what she'll remember about her senior year 27 years from now.

I remember thinking Senior exams in the spring were a joke-our class rank and GPA had already been published and sent to colleges.
After May 1, I could literally tell you how many hours I had left in that school.
I remember staring out the windows for hours-so glad to change classes so the view would change.

He's baaaccck

Last night, somewhere near my bedroom window, a whipporwill was singing. I hope he's the same one I listened to last year. When I have trouble sleeping, I try to count how many times he calls out. Quite often I just fall asleep listening to him.This morning when the alarm to get up went off-he was still going strong. He never gives up-always looking for his perfect mate. I wonder-when he does-will they sing together?

This one's for the girls

My daughter left early this morning to comfort a friend that's had her heart trampled upon. You know the guy isn't worthy of kissing the bottom of her feet, but those tears are all so real. I remember holding someone's hand in the same situation-and have had mine held many times too. Thinking back, I wonder when this tradition began. I remember Laura Engalls had some trouble with Albert or Alfonso but I really think it began with Adam and Eve and Eve's best friend. There's just something about having your girl take care of you so quit playing on the internet and give her a call or if you're trying to be quiet email her. Just let her know you're thinking about her.
Thanks Juliet, Sam, Melissa, Nancy, Robyn,Lee, Darlene, and mom.

Word to the Wise

If your senior grabs a swimsuit in the morning and the school has no pool, the call saying that one or more classes have been missed should not come as a huge shock. Just saying.

Princess Lauren

It took a while to post,but here's Princess Lauren getting ready for the prom.

Stinkydog Style

By the numbers (aka Stinkydog style)

Number of times I've taken medication late =5 (thank goodness it's not BC)
Number of cops that pulled into the gas station with me= 4 (yeah that made me feel real safe)
Number of funerals in the last three weeks=3 (if I die next week I won't be at the funeral)
Number of times I've heard Ave Maria=2 (way too few-this is the closest I come to opera)

Number of tears= about a million

Number of times I've said a prayer of thanks for my family and friends and all that's blessed me (Imagine Martina McBride's "I have been Blessed" playing)= about a million and one

Life is good and I know it.

Once upon a time

Once upon a time, I thought the most heart wrenching thing was to watch your mother cry. Today, I know there's something just a little worse.
Let me start by explaining some things about my kids. Beth is kinda emotional like me-a lot of the time she wears her heart on her sleeve. Lauren is a powder keg-she's very happy, very angry or very sad and it's not hard to figure out which. Paul kinda keeps his emotions under wrap most of the time. If someone is down or worried, he cracks jokes and makes others feel at ease. Upon hearing about his grandfather's death, he was worried about Grandmarty and his dad. At the church, all of the kids hugged lots of people and really made this Catholic mama proud-they remembered the prayers, when to sit, when to kneel, and how to show some respect to those around them. The girls used tissues and offered them to those around them.Paul stood strong and compassionate to his sisters.
When we arrived at the Veterans Cemetary, a huge flag was displayed by the North Little Rock Fire Department.The bagpipes started the ceremony and the guns rang loud and clear.
Then the bugles played taps. Paul still stood strong with tears running down his face. I looked to Beth and she was wiping her eyes. Lauren's eyes were overflowing.
And that's worse because I couldn't take away their sorrow-only share in it.

Time to stop crying

Yes, it's that time. I'm officially tired of crying and just when I think I can't cry anymore I'll remember that I won't ever hear his voice again. I know he wasn't my dad-but he didn't treat me any different from his daughters. He wasn't my grandpa, but he was old enough to be. He taught me a lot about life and love and in his death I'm reminded that today is a gift that is given to you-what you make of it is your gift to others.