Here on the frontier, There are falling leaves, Although my neighbors are all barbarions…And you? You are a thousand miles away. There are always two cups on my table.

Archive for January, 2010

The Chef’s First Word’s Were, “No You Shut Up.”

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The only reason I have any to no interest in football is because the Chef is a raving Ravens fan.
I even have pics of my little granddaughter (henceforth to be known as Starlite,daughter of the Chef) sitting on Flacco‘s lap….kind of creepy actually.

You see the Chef cooks for a high falutin’ summer camp in Frederick where the founders and or supporters (meaning those with fat wallets) invited the Ravens to lunch one day.
Thus, they know him, he knows them, and Starlite has sat upon their respective knees.
Meaning the Ravens who came to lunch.

Anyway, I am waiting for the start of the game so I can enjoy the company of some good friends and family.

How the Chef turned out so well is a mystery that the world will probably never solve.

His first words were, “No you shut up!”

Raising him was one long “Fear Factor” stunt.
I shudder to remember.

He was a tough kid.
The one who you dread in the supermarket because somehow,somehow…that brat’s irresponsible mother let him get away with the shopping cart and he is riding it down the aisle laughing hysterically,with his head thrown back, and he is headed straight for you!

Don’t judge the mom too harshly,
squirrels are so hard to control.

I was saved by boarding school when he turned 13 and I realized one of us had to go.

There were 5 others to raise.

A school was willing to take him.
I cried tears of anguish and relief at the airport,
then went to Dunkin’ Donuts.

There the truth is out.

Today he is still a force to be reckoned with.

But somehow through the grace of God,Moonbeam fell in love with him, together they have produced Starlite. Now but a toddler but still the apple of her Daddy’s eye.

Those tough kids can turn into the most remarkable adults.
OMG! How can this be the same person.
No one has to prove to me there is a God,
I see it everyday when I see the Chef,
he is a miracle.

How is it I am so in love with that child!

Life is Cool When Everyone Has a Mustache: Babies

A young girl kisses a baby on the cheek.

Image via Wikipedia

Raising these six children has been trial by fire.

If only I’d known.

If someone had only told me.

Oh well….

Long ago my husband and I used to take our brood to visit the “old people” in a local nursing home.

The men and women became interchangeable near the end of life.
Kind of made life simpler it seemed.

For us younguns anyway, chasing our babies on a frenzied triathlon dash through their early years.

Nursing home years lazing around in wheelchairs,
no makeup to bother with or bras.
Just hanging out smoking in the courtyard,
petting a stray dog
and getting the occasional visitor,
whose name you can never remember.
Life is cool when everyone has a mustache.

Yup. I envied those folks.

I mean I really, really envied them.

We would pull up to the nursing home in our ancient and ever breaking down station wagon.

My enthusiastic husband would run ahead with the older kids while I wrestled with the babies.

My eldest, I’ll call her China,to protect her identity,
as a matter of fact I’ll disguise all my kids names,
Those in the witness protection program will have naught to worry.

China would stand by me with a slight scowl on her pretty face watching the others running off in a trail of hilarious laughter and mutter under her 9 year old breath…

I wrestled a howling 2 year old out of his seat belt,
and struggled with the baby getting her out of her car seat.

China would silently hold out her arms to take the baby as though it were her own and I would obediently hand her over, thanking God someone else could hold her besides me.

I heaved the 2 year boy, Bart, over my shoulder and inserted a fruit roll-up into his crying mouth.

Fruit roll ups were a food group right?

Off we trudged to catch up with the others.

“Chi ” , I say to my daughter, who I unfortunately made into my best friend from her early years.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She answers crossly, “I don’t know either”.

(Wise beyond her years, understanding the injustice of it all, no wonder she waited until 29 to have her first child.)

She is brilliant.

She walks a step ahead of me and Bart,

head held high and proud.

A baby carrying a baby.

What am I doing to her?

What am I doing?

I cry silently exhausted and see…

China place a secret kiss on the baby’s cheek.

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