Papaw Loved

Let me tell you about my Papaw.

No, I’m not going to tell you about the cancer or the surgeries or the many battles with pneumonia. I’m going to tell you about Papaw and the things he loved. I may not do him justice since this is just a small sliver of who he was as seen by me, but here goes. 🙂

Papaw loved people. I’m not gonna lie, we may not have always had the best conversations. This was due to the fact that he was incredibly hard of hearing–practically deaf. Conversations with Papaw often went like this:

Me: “It’s warm outside today.”
Papaw: “Huh?!”
Me: “It’s warm outside today!”
Papaw: “Who’s gonna die today?!”
Me: “IT’S. WARM. OUTSIDE. TODAY!”
Papaw: “Ohhhh. Yeah!”

Somehow he overcame the boundaries of hearing problems and had many friends. To say that he never met a stranger is an understatement. You couldn’t take him anywhere without finding him cornering a stranger and asking if they liked Bluegrass.

Not only did he love to meet new people, he loved to tell you about them.

Papaw: “Do you know (insert name here)?”
Me: *oh boy* “No…”
Papaw: “You’ve never heard of (insert name here) from (insert town here)?!”
Me: *inwardly sighs* “No…”
Papaw: “Well, (insert name here) loves (insert hobby here) and is related to (insert another name here) and says (insert random fact here) and…” etc etc etc
Me: *MAKE IT STOP!*

Papaw loved food.

Some people eat to live, but Papaw lived to eat! He loved food so much that Grandma took to hiding candy from him. When the grandkids would ask for it, she’d sneak us to that week’s hiding place and make us promise not to tell Papaw. It didn’t matter though. Papaw was clever and found it anyway. Even at the end of his life when he could no longer swallow without aspirating his food, he’d sneak into the kitchen while Grandma was sleeping and get himself a treat.

Papaw loved homemade ice cream!

Papaw loved music–bluegrass music specifically. Remember how I said he was hard of hearing? Well, that didn’t stop him from sawing away on his beloved fiddle. He may not have been able to hear the rhythm (or even know what song he was on at times), but he played with the passion of a concert violinist.

He loved music so much that he would rebuild fiddles and even have weekly music parties at his autobody shop. Tuesday nights were known for many years as Warren’s Music Party nights. There were no special qualifications to join the party either. Didn’t matter if you played an instrument well or even played at all, you simply had to show up (and be familiar with Orange Blossom Special).

And as if that wasn’t enough music, he even played fiddle in his family’s Bluegrass Gospel group.

Papaw didn’t let hearing problems stop him from playing music with his family’s Bluegrass Gospel group.

Papaw loved his family. He loved to hold babies, fall asleep with babies on his lap, and feed babies things that babies aren’t supposed to eat. He may or may not have fed his 3-week-old daughter pizza, and it wasn’t unusual to find chocolate drool coming from a baby’s mouth.

When my aunt was a baby, Papaw made her a bottle in the middle of the night. Sounds innocent enough, only Papaw thought a plain bottle wasn’t good enough… and so he slipped some maple syrup inside. The next day Grandma exclaimed, “Warren, there’s something wrong with this baby! She has horrible diarrhea and it smells just like maple syrup!”

I remember many rides in a wagon attached to the back of Papaw’s mower. We’d bounce along his yard and across the road to the creek. And if he wasn’t taking kids for wagon rides, he’d take us out for tractor rides.

He also enjoyed taking us camping, perfecting Cub Scout derby cars, and letting us brush his hair. Actually, I’m not sure that he enjoyed that, but he let me tangle my little brush in his hair anyway.

Papaw loved God. Papaw was a good, Christian man despite a rough start. He convinced Grandma to marry him by promising that he’d start going to church with her. When he failed to make good on his promise after the wedding, he admitted that he’d only said that to get her to marry him!

But after several years, Papaw started a sincere relationship with the Lord. He enjoyed morning Bible study with Grandma, playing music for the Lord, and leading prayer at every family dinner.

We loved Papaw and still do and always will. We all knew we couldn’t keep him forever and were surprised we had gotten to have him as long as we had after the battle with cancer. While letting him go was necessary, it was not easy. But it’s comforting to know he is no longer suffering.

And even though he left us, he didn’t leave us empty handed. He left us with mounds of pictures and mountains of memories. He left us with hearts full of love which is the best inheritance a kid can ever get. I hope that I can do the same for my family when my time comes.

Thanks, Papaw. 

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Blech

Z-boy: “Mommy, can you give me medicine? I don’t feel good.”
Me: “What’s wrong?”
Z-boy: (Suddenly looks strange and stops talking)
Me: (slow motion running and yelling) “Noooooo! There’s a bucket! If you have to puke, use the bucket! The bucket!!!”
Z-boy: (Blech. Blech all over the floor. Blech all over his blanket. Here a blech, there a blech, everywhere a blech blech.)

😦

Dumpster Diving

Things that could only happen to me…

K-girl: (Toddles through the house sipping on a Danimal’s smoothie)

Me: “I didn’t give K-girl a smoothie…” :/

K-girl: (still sipping happily)

Me: “TheWiseOne, did you give K-girl a smoothie?”

TheWiseOne: “We’re out.”

Me: “Ruh roh.”

Don’t you love it when the kids refuse to eat your perfectly delicious food in favor of day old smoothie cups???

Tales from the Crypt

Or more like Tales from the Dealership.

I was waiting at the car dealership the other day to get my van aligned. I had downed two cups of coffee before the trip (because I am infinitely wise and thought this was a great idea). Apparently, the words “two hour wait” are a magical trigger for my kidneys to go into overdrive because I went from fine to bulging bladder in 2.5 seconds.

But no big deal. The dealership is a magical place. They have free hot chocolate, popcorn, cell charging stations, manicures…

I kid you not. Free manicures. Maybe I’m a country bumpkin, but I ain’t seen the likes of that before.

Obviously, a place that has free manicures while you wait for your vehicle to be repaired has public restrooms as well.

I popped my phone out and surfed while I casually glanced around for the public restroom signs.

We’ve all been there.

I slowly realized there are no restrooms. But how can this be?! There are free manicures! They can’t possibly not have a restroom!

At this point, normal people would ask a staff member to direct them to the elusive restrooms. But I am not normal. I am a terminal introvert. Talking to people I’ve never met before is my kryptonite. It’s ridiculous, I know. While I’ve learned to act like an extrovert as I’ve gotten older, occasionally my introverted ways rise to the top and proclaim dominance.

So, I texted my husband in a panic, and God bless that man, he knew exactly where the restrooms were! I hurried to the restroom while using my best, casually-squeezing-my-legs-together-so-my-bladder-doesn’t-burst walk.

I may or may not have had practice.

No one is happier to find a restroom than a woman who’s had 4 kids and downed two cups of coffee. I went into that restroom like Elsa and just “let it go”. It was glorious!

I don’t know who thought of this… but I like it.

After completing my walk of triumph, I took my seat in the waiting room.

“You’re a lifesaver!” I texted my husband.

He replied, “Or at least an underwear saver.”

Funky Town… tread lightly and bring chocolate

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

That is all.

Just kidding! Ha ha! No, that’s not all. Have you ever one of those days? Those are the days when you’re late for work because you spilled coffee on your self as you were rushing out the door. They are also the days when your kid has a dirty diaper at the library and you realize that your hubs has taken the wet wipes out of the diaper bag and never put them back. And let us not forget the days when you’re running around town in your beloved flip flops and you flip flop the whole darn thing apart.

No, this is not me. But this is how I look when my flip flop flops for the last time. 😥

While today has the makings of a great day (we locked in a great rate on the house we’re buying, we got our van fixed free of charge, and hubs is getting some overtime opportunities), I am in a funk.

Congrats! Baby #5 is NOT on their way!

…the kind of funk that requires a giant bar of chocolate, freshly brewed coffee, and Netflix. Lots of Netflix. Someone hand me a blanket and a cup of joe, I could totally go for some Darcy and Elizabeth right now.

I’m so “funky” that I almost threw out our only bed sheets in a fit of anger as I was making the bed. There is a permanent crease that’s been there for years, but today, today it’s a problem. Suddenly it’s life or death, and by golly, it’s gonna stop now. I’m drawing the line and you’re not gonna cross it, you dirty, rotten SHEET!

And while I realize that I could iron it, at the time, I would’ve rather ironed my own arm than iron a low-life sheet like that who has the nerve to have a permanent crease and disturb my perfectly made bed!

I can’t wait until Kristen is old enough to go through this together. Not.

I have a problem. I know.

Days Off… and all the glory that comes with it.

Days off are the worst.

You have to be home with your kids, play outside, enjoy the sunshine… Okay, what am I talking about?! Days off are the BEST!

Unless…

…your kid poops their pants.

…you’ve lost a library book and it won’t renew.

…your 1-year-old wants to help “fold” the laundry by throwing it as far from you as possible.

…your 3-year-old wants to play outside, but somehow he only has 1 shoe–1 shoe!–to his name because Peter Pan came by to take the mates off to Neverland.

…it’s St. Patrick’s day and you’re scurrying to find something green for the children to wear before they pinch each other to death and CPS is called.

…your 3-year-old asks you what 7 take away 1 is and you say 6 and they get angry and yell at you because it’s obviously 8.

…you’re happily sipping coffee on the porch swing while the children frolic and you accidentally nail your 1-year-old who toddled off behind the porch swing without you knowing and you hear the sickening thud followed by that moment of silence in which you prepare for the inevitable, blood curdling screams, and yep, she exceeds your expectations.

And this is all before noon. I love my day off! 😉

Make Money from Home–Update!

Remember my drama from yesterday with Usertesting.com? Well, I got the e-mail today that I passed! I just wanted to update you guys. I took my first real test just now and finished it in less than five minutes. (Apparently most tests take 15-20 minutes, but this was a short one; therefore, I get less money.)

I was disappointed to find out I can’t take anymore tests until they’ve reviewed my video within 48 hours. I guess that’s the standard policy, but I was hoping to take at least a couple more this evening. Still, any amount of moulah is good! I should get the money in my Paypal account next week. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Poke-Blog with TheWiseOne: Gotta Read Them All! 4

Hello everybody! Sorry I have not made a post for a while Poke-fans. Oh well. I guess the pokemon we will buzz about today is…

Electabuzz! Electabuzz is an electric type and fairly popular. Here is a word from the pokedex. Its body constantly discharges electricity. Getting close to it will make your hair stand on end. That was the word from the pokedex. Electric types suck at damaging a ground type. Ground types are immune to electric types. His ability is static. Please post in the comments below and tell me if you have a electabuzz. Peace.

How to Make Money from Home–Do as I say, not as I do!

I just tried signing up for usertesting.com.

No, this is not an ad for them because I just bombed the test.

Usertesting.com is a website where you try out webpages… for money! Like, $10 for 20 minutes. Sounds pretty sweet, right?

Well, since we’re in the process of buying a house (and I just got a good look at my new mortgage–eegads!), I thought I’d give it a try. Basically, I desperately scoured the internet for ways to make extra cash and this was the best I could come up with.

So, I got all comfy on the couch, turned on the laptop mic, and began my test. Due to the high volume of applicants (ie, thousands of people needing dough), you have to do a test run first to see if you’re a suitable applicant. You simply go to the assigned website and complete specific tasks, all the while voicing your thoughts for all to hear.

And while being recorded. Did I forget to mention that?

And I’m thinking, “How hard can this be?” I love to talk! I mean, I have a blog! C’mon!

So, the website I got assigned is Airbnb.com, and I’m supposed to pretend that the hubs and I are taking a trip to San Francisco, California for 1 night. I just have to navigate the site and complete my tasks. The recording begins.

At this point I start getting nervous. Stage fright, really. Maybe you don’t believe me, but really! Suddenly, I’m being recorded and all those random, ADHD-type thoughts that I vomit out all day long without a second-thought (or first-thought) are gone. I’m speechless. I’m staring at the screen blankly with what must surely be test anxiety because I kind of lose the ability to read and hold my bladder.

I might be exaggerating on the bladder function part.

I’ve never had test anxiety before, but I’m certain I have a terminal case now. The timer is steadily ticking like a bomb. Thanks, timer. No pressure, right?

I force myself back to the task at hand: pick a hotel. This should be easy! There are tons of beautiful locations to stay. I navigate the website while trying to vocalize my thoughts in a clear and “relaxed” voice. I’m talking to myself. And recording it. I try not to feel like an utter weirdo.

An utter weirdo desperate for cash at 11 pm.

I start getting frustrated that the locations pictured only show interior rooms, and not the outside of the hotel. In fact, many of them say apartments. But I finally select my faux vacation home and finish my tasks. Usertesting asks me to answer some written questions. I don’t really know the answers to these since I was so nervous about completing my tasks while being recorded that I basically lost all functions of my brain. It is all a blur.

Finally, the test is done! I submit my video, close the window, and relax. And it is in that moment when my neurons start firing again that I realize what “bnb” stands for.

Bed. And. Breakfast.

Oh. My. Gosh. I am an idiot! There I was complaining about not knowing what hotel was what and not seeing the picture of the exterior when I was supposed to be booking a BED AND BREAKFAST THE WHOLE ENTIRE TIME! And why on Earth wasn’t I tipped off by the words “apartment” or “rental house”??? I am a sad, sad person.

This girl is going to bed now.

Life Lessons by Holly

The following are life lessons experienced by me or my friends and family. I hope you find them valuable. 😉

1) Do not put metal in the microwave. Sparks! SPARKS EVERYWHERE!

2) Do not heat eggs in the microwave–even boiled ones. They will most definitely explode–even if they wait for you to get 10 steps from the microwave before they do it.

3) Do not use wax paper in place of the parchment paper then put it in the oven. Does anyone smell a candle burning? Who lit a candle?

4) Speaking of candles, you can’t light one by putting it in the microwave. Or actually, you kind of can if the sparks from the metal piece in the bottom light the wick. Who knew?!

5) Do not drive a lawn mower over a snake unless you like the feel of wet bologna all over you.

6) Do not put oven mitts in the snow and then grab a cookie sheet. Snow will go from freezing to boiling in 2.518495 seconds… roughly. And you will probably drop your cookies. 😦 Poor, poor cookies.

7) One should be careful with the application of Gold Bond (especially when applying it near the more sensitive parts of the body). Incorrect application may result in a voice two octaves higher than normal.

8) Lastly, when the stomach bug hits, never trust a fart.