Tales from a Terrific Terrier 2

From Franklin --

There she goes! Mommy did it again! She's telling stories about me that aren't exactly true. You can read her story below but if you want to know the real story, please read on.

Now first of all, Mommy takes me on a ride and tells me I'm going to the Groomer. I have no idea what a Groomer is but Mommy makes all of our adventures sound so fun. I just couldn't wait.

After our car ride we get out and OH MAN --I can smell things I have never ever smelled before. New scents everywhere and it wasn't me --it was my nose that was trying to sniff here, there, here, there, here, there. I totally wasn't pulling on my leash --I was merely following my nose. I looked up and saw THE BIGGEST doggie I have ever seen in my life! Mommy said something about a horse but gracious, I just wanted to go over to him and say hi. You know, introduce myself and ask him how he got so big. Do you think I'll be that big one day?

Mommy pulls on my leash and makes me go inside and these two very nice ladies want to play with me and I know they do because they kneeled down and said, "Hi Franklin!" Well hello, two nice ladies! My Mommy is so fun taking me to places for adventures and meeting new friends. I was so excited about my new friends, the two nice ladies, that I didn't even notice my Mommy left.

Before I know it, the two nice ladies put me on a table and get me wet! What is going on? Listen, I've told Mommy before I don't like baths. I just don't. See, I'm cute and I realize, its kind of what I got going on for me --cuteness can get me out of A LOT of trouble. I'm fluffy, which of course is all part of me being cute. When I'm wet I look like a rat. I can't have that! I need my cuteness! I need my fluff! I need my fur! What I thought was going to be a fun play-date ended up being a bath. Nice trick, Mommy. I'm not amused.

After the nice ladies --er, I mean --mean ladies got me all wet, they put me under a big blower. Hate it. Need I say more?

I do not chase the brush. Whatever. I hate that I am so misunderstood. I'm trying to help by moving the brush along with my mouth and suddenly I'm a bad puppy. Bite? Are you serious? I'm a cute fluffy Yorkie --I ain't got no bad bones in me body. Aye, lad, why am I talking like an Irish Setter? The point is, I wasn't biting --I was merely showing the ladies the spots they missed while they were brushing me.

And Mommy? I'm not even sure what to say about her. She abandoned me and left me with two very mean ladies. Like, I had no idea if Mommy was coming back. I had no idea if Mommy still loved me. This was our first separation and I was a little anxious about it. Mommy likes to blast about what a bad puppy she thinks me to be --hmp! I wonder what Puppy Social Services would think about her abandoning me for hours.

Lastly I would like to point out that I was trying to warn my fellow canines when they came into this horrible place of torture by water. Mommy was talking to the two ladies and when I saw more doggies come in I was trying to get closer to them so I could whisper, "Try to get away if you can. This place is a place of water torture and those two ladies are only nice while your Mommy is looking." It was the least I could do, save those poor doggies from the water torture I endured.

I did enjoy our ride back home because I was so glad to be back with Mommy. I love our adventures together but really, I'm a little tired of being so grossly misunderstood.

I love you Mommy but please don't take me back to that place of water torture.

Love,

Franklin

The Terrific Terrier

Tales of a Terrible Terrier 2

After the Pet Smart fiasco, I knew our puppy needed some more home-training and lessons in manners before I took him into public again however; a trip to the Groomer was necessary and so taking my ill-behaved pup out was unavoidable. I did find a Groomer that runs a business on her farm and that seemed more suitable to Franklin than taking him to a commercial place. Unfortunately, the woman only operated M-F 8-5 and thus, Franklin Graham's first trip to the Groomer was at the expense of me taking 1/2 day off from work, unpaid. I have NEVER taken unpaid time off from work to take my own children to the doctor. What has become of me?

The groomer was only about 10 minutes from me and I enjoyed the short drive to the country. Franklin likes to ride on my lap because its the only way he can look out the window, he's too small to do it on his own. Makes driving a big more challenging not to mention, I feel pretty stupid like people are looking at me thinking, "Oh she's one of those kind of dog owners." You know, much the way I used to look at people before I became ---well, the type of dog owner that takes unpaid time off from work to get a puppy groomed. That kind of dog owner.

When we pulled into the long driveway that leads up to the farm, I instantly knew we were in the right place. Oh sure, I loved the setting and it was peaceful and quiet but that's not exactly what made it the right place. It was secluded and there was not one person to be found (I took the first appointment of the day) so there weren't any toddlers for Franklin to attack or other dogs, toys, noises, cars or any other distractions. Perhaps Franklin was actually going to have a good visit to the groomer.

Or perhaps not.

Franklin and I get out of the car and already he's a spaz. Granted, there were so many wonderful new smells and just a few feet away was a huge pasture with a grazing horse in it. I would have loved to let my little lad go run free and he thought so too, from the way he was pulling and tugging at his leash, "Mommy! PLEEEESE let me go!!!" I stood there for a second trying to envision it and concluded that somehow my tiny terrier would manage to terrorize that poor horse. Size never dissuades my pup.

There was a typical white farm house, a big barn in the back and between the two, a small building with a sign marked "Salon". I figured that was the place. Franklin and I walked in to a very tiny entry way that had a "Mr. Ed door" that led to the salon area. Franklin was out of his mind with excitement --much like the Pet Smart trip only this time there were fewer distractions. Immediately two ladies come to the door and excitedly say, "This must be Franklin!" They open the bottom half of the door and Pup takes off. He's jumping, he's nipping, he's barking, he's --well, basically he's behaving very badly. We exchange a few words of instruction and then off I go to leave my beloved Frankie at the groomer to get his first hair cut.

As I'm walking out the door I think to myself, "Good luck, ladies!"

No sooner than I took the last sip of my Pumpkin Spiced Latte, it was time to go pick up my freshly bathed boy. When I got back to the groomer other people were there dropping their dogs off. I was so excited to see Franklin's new Do and yes, I admit as I walked passed those other people and looked down at their dogs I so selfishly thought, "My dog is so much cuter than yours."

Which is exactly the attitude, I imagine, that causes my puppy to be so spoiled and rotten.

The nice ladies bring Franklin to me and he was so excited to see me. As I was taking care of the bill, I had to keep pulling the leash in closer to me to keep Frankie from jumping all over the two dogs in the waiting area. The very tiny waiting area. The very two well behaved dogs in the very tiny waiting area. The very two well behaved dogs in the very tiny waiting area that were not as cute as my very ill-behaved dog.

As I'm paying the nice ladies I ask the dumbest question that ever befell my lips. "So, how did he do? Was Franklin good?"

I really already knew the answer to that question but I was hopeful for a miracle of sorts . . . .

And then standing there in that tiny waiting area trying to hear the nice ladies talk over Franklin's yelps and barks and trying to keep him from jumping all over the other two dogs and feeling awfully embarrassed in front of the other two dog owners, all the while trying to dig $30 out of my purse, I had a moment reminiscent to many parent/teacher conferences I have had for a certain boy - a human boy of mine but you know --not to mention any names ---and you know that old trick the teachers play when they have bad news to deliver, "start with something positive and end with something positive". You know, give Mom a false sense of security then blast her with the bad news then try to make her feel good before she leaves. Been there. Done that! How many of those conferences started off with, "Jack is a nice boy. . . . . ." [Names have been changed to protect the innocent and/or guilty parties]. And then their voice tapers off and there is a pause . . . a seemingly eternal silence . . . you just wait for that "but".

Groomer lady says, "Franklin is so cute."

Silence. Well you know, except for all the commotion Frankin is causing behind me.

Wait for the but.

"But . . ."

Ding! There it is!!!!

"But . . . well, he's just so darn cute. Really he is. It's just well --well, he --he --he likes to chase the brush, you know? And well, he he nipped at us a few times. I mean, he's so cute and I know its his first time . . ."

"Nip? Like? Playful?"

Silence. Well you know, except for all the commotion Frankin is causing behind me.

"No, uh --not playful. No, he was --well you know, he was biting."

"BITING? Like for real angry biting?"

Yes, Franklin is a biter. Then again so was Zach as a toddler --er, I mean Jack.

Frankie and I get in the van and he cozies himself on my lap excited for the ride home. Just like those parent/teacher conferences of days gone by, there was a lecture to be had on the way home.

"Franklin! Why were you biting the nice ladies? You can't bite people, pup! That's not the way we behave! . . . ."

*sigh*

Will I ever be able to take this puppy into public?

And seriously, I took off a 1/2 day UNPAID from work for this. I'm a crazy lady raising a terrible terrier.

Tales From a Terrific Terrier

From Franklin --

If you read below, Tales of a Terrible Terrier I think you'll be mislead. I feel like I'm getting a bad rap and I have some splain' to do.

The other day Mommy gets me all hyped up and tells me we were going on an adventure to some--some pet place like -Pet Start or Pets are Smart or whatever, I wasn't really paying that much attention because as soon as I heard the word adventure I was up for anything. I'm still a little unsure of the whole car ride thing but like I said, I'm usually always up for an adventure.

As soon as we got to the doors I just knew I was in for one of the biggest adventures of my life! The doors were HUGE. There were new scents everywhere I couldn't decide which one to land my nose on --this one, no this one, how bout this one, no this . . . ah! It was so hard to make up my mind so I just flittered from one to another. And then people were walking around and let's face it --I'm cursed with cuteness and that is totally not my fault. I'm totally minding my own business --sniffing here, sniffing there when people start screeching, "Oh a puppy! He's so cute!" Now see, Mommy is misleading everyone to believe I have bad manners but that is not the case at all. When someone is talking to me it would be rude to ignore them --so I happily greet them. It's a Yorkie trait. I'm friendly. What can I say, its all part of my Yorkie charm. And while we're on that subject, I DO NOT bite people. Oh sure, a little harmless nip here, a little gnawing there I mean, its what we puppies do. Perhaps Mommy skipped that chapter in one of her books.

*rolls eyes* Yeah --let's just touch on those books too. Maybe if Mommy put one of them down every now and then and actually played with me well then hey, I wouldn't have to chew on the corners to get her attention, now would I?

The little girl incident --I was so excited to meet a little person like me. I mean, imagine what its like for me to live with giants all of the time, which actually explains the leaping and jumping --I'm just trying to see eye-to-eye. You would think my short Mommy could relate. Anyways, I totally was not going to nip her nose off. Mommy exaggerates.

I'm confused. See, the whole car ride Mommy kept telling me we were going on an adventure and I was going to get a new toy. I was only trying to be helpful when we were at the store trying to pick out my new toy. I needed to sniff them and pull them off the shelf to you know --give 'em a spin around the block. Had Mommy not pulled me away from every single toy so quickly, perhaps we could have actually gotten one I wanted and liked. Instead Mommy picked one out for me and I didn't really care for it much. It smells funny.

Train me as she may, Mommy just isn't going to get me to be like one of those old stuffy dogs. *snorts* I was just trying to play and liven things up a bit. Maybe they should let their perfectly pointy ears down every now and then and have some fun. And those other dogs --I can explain that too. I wasn't at all trying to nip or bite them. You see their Mommy saw me and said to them, "Oh look! That's what you looked like when you were a puppy." I thought it was a joke. Those dogs were so fat you could barely see their faces, hence why I missed their kindred Yorkiness. And those bellies --just dragging along the ground. They were so plump I thought maybe someone pumped them up with air. I wasn't going to bite them --I just wanted to nip 'em a bit to see if they'd explode or perhaps just deflate into a shell of a dog --like the skins at Build A Bear.

I'm just a pup. I haven't been to school or had any formal training --besides Mommy chasing me around with Resolve Pet Odor remover every time I do my business . . . the point is, I'm not an educated pup so how was I to know I had some big shoes to fill with a presidential name like Franklin? I think that's unfair. Talk about setting me up for failure! I can't even register to vote! How can I possibly have aspirations to be presidential? If Mommy wanted me to live up to my name maybe I should have been named Magellan or Marco Polo --Christopher --I'm an explorer, an adventurer. Now those are some hearty names a curious pup like me could live up to! I'm only 3 months old --I'm not even sure what I want to be when I grow up yet. *snickers* Well I certainly don't want to be one of those old stuffy dogs that sit on command like I saw at that pet start place. I'm not exactly sure what a president is but I imagine one of those dogs would be perfectly suited to be president. I don't know, I could totally see myself as a forest ranger or maybe even a coal miner. I could totally be a hunter, ranch handler or lion tamer --OMG! Roy would TOTALLY be a name I could live up to. Well --you know, except perhaps for the part about well --I like girl puppies.

Lindsay Lohan? Really Mommy! That's just a low blow! Listen, rambunctious as I may be, I've never induced any drugs or chemicals into my system --I mean --except for that one Dish Washer tab I ate that one time but you know, wasn't my fault it smelled citrus and sweet --anyway ---

I believe this should clear matters up.

Signed,

A Terrific Terrier

Franklin Graham Newsome

Tales of a Terrible Terrier

I'm not a good puppy Mom and I'm raising a hellion puppy. I don't intend to but that seems to be the course we are on.

I'm reading the puppy books, watching the Puppy Whisperer videos and episodes of Its Me Or The Dog but the puppy has chewed the corners of the borrowed library puppy books, the cord to the lap top with which I watch the videos and I miss most of the TV shows most valuable information because I have my eyes glued to puppy's butt watching to see if any poop is gonna plop down on my carpet.

I took the hellion --er, I mean --puppy. Our puppy, Franklin. I took Franklin to Pet Smart because I thought it would be good for him to get out and you know, get over exposed and over stimulated so the rambunctious creature would exhaust himself to sleep when we got home --sounded perfectly reasonable to me. Thus, we adventured ourselves out to Pet Smart. I had in mind to purchase some toys that were recommended by the puppy books.

Taking Franklin to Pet Smart made me feel like one of those really bad mothers with really bad kids you occasionally come across in the store. No, I'm not talking about the kid that has a melt down, loses his sanity for a brief moment when he sees a toy he HAS to have and yet can't have, or the basic "I'm going to display a lack of manners and healthy dose of disobedience just because we're in public and I think I can get away with it" moments. No, not that kind of stuff. I'm talking about the kids who are completely out of control, running, screaming, crying, throwing tantrums and the parents are completely out of control, running, screaming, crying and throwing tantrums . . . those situations when it takes every ounce of your strength not to snatch that child up and give him the spanking he really deserves, harshly set him down in the cart and sternly say to him, "You are disturbing the shopping experience of 50 other people! Now sit down, be quiet and obey your mother AND NO! YOU ARE NOT GETTING BUZZ LIGHT YEAR! YOU HEARD YOUR MOTHER --YOU HAVE TWO OTHERS AT HOME THAT YOU NEVER PLAY WITH."

So yeah, Franklin was like one of those kids. Out! Of! Control!

First of all, Franklin thinks every person in the world exists to be his friend. I mean, I admire the little fella's friendliness but how do I get across the Stranger Danger lessons to my canine lad? Every person we saw, and I do mean EVERY person we saw, dear Franklin wanted to give them his own personal greeting. But he's such a spastic puppy and likes to gnaw and chew as his form of affection, most people don't take too kindly to getting gnawed at. And the ill mannered pup leaps and jumps onto people and you know, that's not acceptable public behavior either. So I have to control the leash and keep Franklin at a safe distance from people --but the people don't make it any easier when they behold my fluffy little Yorkie and exclaim in a high-pitched voice, "Oh he's so cute!" Which is only like a personally engraved invitation to Franklin to leap and jump and nibble and bite . . . . .

Franklin was out of control --he was like a bumble bee buzzing around at top speed --he jumped onto the shelves, grabbed merchandise off of shelves, crawled under the shelves, yipped, yapped, zipped and zapped. He was so out of control I finally picked him up to calm him down but he was out of his Yorkie puppy mind and almost jumped out of my arms. Other doggie owners were looking at me with either pity or disgust. As Franklin ransacked his way through the store, choking himself and gasping for air as he pulled his leash to full throttle, other doggie owners would see us coming and say to their nicely behaved dog, "SIT!", and the dog would sit and watch Franklin cruise by out of control, me at the other end of the leash desperately trying to keep up with my puppy's steroid pace. As we turned one corner I had a moment of panic when I saw a little girl about 3 years old and as soon as she saw Franklin she bolted towards him yelling, "PUPPY!" All I could think is Franklin would nip that poor toddler's nose right off her face! And I think the little girl's Mom sensed that panic in me because as I was reeling the leash in to gain better control of my pup, the Mom was running towards her daughter saying, "No, remember Mommy said we don't pet dogs unless . . " Finally I grabbed my hellion dog while she got hold of her sweet little girl and thus, her nose stayed in tact with her face.

We had to cut our trip to Pet Smart short but not before I dropped a cool $50 on a new collar, leash and toys. The new collar was because Franklin, known in some finer circles as FDR, learned how to get his old collar into his mouth and loosen it. I needed a collar of a different material that wouldn't slide so easily. Well then of course, I HAD to buy the matching leash. I also bought toys the puppy books recommended and the labels promised, "hours and hours of fun and chewing" but FDR just looked at them and me like we were both crazy --and opted to chew on my toes, furniture, books, shoes . . . so much for the puppy book recommended toys!

I could go on with more tales of a terrible terrier (or is that tails of a terrible terrier) but I have to take my FDR out to pee and poop and then crate him for the evening and then myself get to bed because you know, 5am comes awfully early and that's the magic hour FDR start howling for another pee break.

FDR certainly is not living up to his distinguished presidential name --he's more like a Lindsay Lohan.

Puppy Training

I'm trying to be a good puppy Mommy but perhaps I'm not cut out for the job. I'm not a patient person and it takes patience to train a pup to use the bathroom outside --and not in the kitchen or living room...

I'm trying to keep the house puppy proof and not leave books on the lower shelf for him to gnaw at, shoes by the door for him to chew, electric cords hanging down, pantry door left open, ANY door left open . . . but I forget what its like to puppy proof a house. Heck, I forget what its like to child proof a house.

Like a good new Mommy should do, I'm reading all of the puppy books, training books, Yorkie books. I watch the Animal Planet channel for inspiration and episodes of The Puppy Whispered on YouTube --I'm educating myself in this puppy realm unknown.

The books say not to get frustrated because your pup can sense your frustration . . .so I guess when I say between gritted teeth at 5:15am, "Franklin! Time to go potty now! It's cold outside! Franklin! Please go potty now! Stop playing wiht the leash! No, I'm not going to chase you!" Franklin senses my frustration --my very tired frustration! But how do you not get frustrated, huh? I KNOW puppy has to use the bathroom and yet, he's so easily distracted.

How easily distracted? Well, a potty session goes something like this in Franklin's mind. . . .

Oh Mommy is taking me outside! I'm so excited. I love Mommy, I'm gonna lick her hand while she puts my leash on --or maybe just bite it. Mommy LOVES when we play this game ---try and get the leash on me! Oh there we go, she got it on --hurry and open the door, Mommy! Hurry! I can't wait to ---here we go. I have to be careful going down those big stairs, I fall sometimes so s-l-o-w-l-y I go down the . . LET'S GO MOMMY! LET'S RUN! Oh, so I guess we're not running. Okay--I have to pee really really bad. Now let me just sniff around . WHAT'S THAT? I leaf? I LOVE TO CHASE LEAVES! Oh I hope its a crunchy one - -did I just hear something? A CAR! A CAR! Oh Mommy, let's go chase the car --oh okay, well Mommy must not like to chase . . what's that? A BUTTERFLY? HELLO BUTTERFLY, would you like to be my friend? Oh surely . . .oh my goodness, what is this scent right here in the grass? *sniff sniff* I've never smelled that before . . maybe if I just dig right here . .CHILDREN? DO I HEAR CHILDREN WALKING BY? Hello children! Thanks for coming to visit me! I love visitors and I think I'll go say hi to them . . .and wait a second! A BRANCH! How fun is a branch? I'll just pick this up right here and chew on it and ---OH MOMMY! You want to play fetch with the branch? Mommy took the branch and thew it . .why won't she let me go get it? Well, look at that, a flower! *sniff sniff* Mommy, I LOVE flowers! I wonder if it tastes as good as . . .I heard a dog bark. Did you hear that? Is he calling me? I think I'll run over to see --oh another good scent right here *sniff sniff* I think I'll pee here . .no wait maybe over here *sniff sniff* nah, I think over here is better --ANOTHER CAR? Let's go chase that one, Mommy! Oh my leash! I'm gonna chew my leash and . . . hold on! I hate this collar --lemme just try-and-get-to- did you see that? I saw something fly by. What was that? A BIRD? *jump jump* I wish I could fly like that *leap leap* I think I was suppose to go potty so let me sniff --hold the phone! I saw something in the sky. What was tha . . . children? More kids? Are they here to play with me--*sniff sniff* I love scents. Now if I --why does Mommy's voice sound so angry? Mommy? Oh Momm ---this right here smells delicious *lick lick* it is the most wonderful . . .BIRDS! Mommy! LET'S GO!

And that is the first 39 seconds.

I exaggerate - none.

Embracing the Empty Nest (with a puppy)

We took Monica back to Kent last weekend. I think I’m finally “getting over it” –leaving my kids (or them leaving us). I mean, it only took me 5 years but this is the very first year we took one of the kids to school and there were no tears for me on the way home. In fact, we practically did a “drive by drop off”. After we dumped Monica’s boxes and college stuff in her room, took her out to lunch and did the traditional “Newsome last trip to Walmart” (all those things for the room/dorm you forgot or didn’t realize you needed) we pulled up in the parking lot in front on Monica’s Sorority House and said, “Well, okay –we’ll see you later.” Monica was like, “Uh ---so –you’re not coming up . . . we’re just saying good-bye right here?” Jerry said, “Well, your Mother can go up with you. I’ll just wait here but don’t take too long or I’ll start blowing the horn.” I thought it was a good idea to walk up with Monica because well, I really needed to use the bathroom ---oh yeah, and stay with Monica a little longer too, yeah that too. When we got up to Monica’s room and I was done using the bathroom I said, “Well, give me a hug” as I was scooting towards the door and poor Monica looked and said, “You’re not going to help me unpack or anything? You normally make my bed for me.” I looked over at her bed, which was piled with clothes and things and said, “I can’t even see your bed! Besides, you need something to do for the rest of the afternoon –your roommates won’t be here until tomorrow.” We hugged, said our good-byes, Monica walked down to the van with me and then –all she saw was a black streak as the van made its quick get-away.

Poor Zach, our third child, won’t get any of the drama his sisters got. The summer before Amanda and Monica’s freshmen years our living room was piled high with dorm/college stuff. We shopped, made lists, planned, prepared, cried, lamented, dreaded . . . Now let’s see—it’s Wednesday, Zach moves up to Michigan on Saturday and we have ZERO purchased, ZERO packed. Last night Zach said to me, “So . . don’t you think I should be packing or getting ready or something?” I kind of sighed and very nonchalantly said, “Well yes, I guess so. I’ll get some boxes from work ---but you know, I took a ½ day off from work on Friday so we’ll be fine.” Amanda got three months of preparation and packing, Monica got probably two months and Zach well, he gets a good solid 4 hours. I mean, I’m going to pack my butt off for the ENTIRE 4 hours. Even my friends are shocked. They ask me when Zach leaves and then they pause waiting for the water works but I just stand there and they say, “So . . . then, uh ….this Saturday, huh?” Again, pausing waiting for the emotional breakdown but I’m cool as ice and they comment, “I guess then this is getting easier, huh?” One of Zach’s roommates (three are sharing a 2-bedroom apartment) is the oldest child –that kid’s Dad emails me 2-3 times a day, “Do you think we need this . . should I get that . . .we need to coordinate . . .does Zach have . . “ I read his emails and think to myself, “Gosh, was I that bad with Amanda? Calm down, dude. It’s going to be Okay!!!!”

I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t have four kids. By the time we got to the fourth going off to college I’d probably be like, “So uh, your Dad and I are going to be off on an Alaskan cruise the day you move into the dorm –so we were just wondering, do you think you can fit all of your stuff in your car? I guess you could take our van but then we’d have to come get it and well, that would just be a big hassle.

See, Zach is lucky he’s not a fourth child ---and in my defense, I am devoting an ENTIRE four hours to the boy’s college moving preparations.

Like I said, Zach leaves on Saturday. His roommate is from Cincinnati so his parents are renting a truck then driving it to our house, we’ll load up Zach’s things and then the 6 of us; two sets of parents and 2 college freshmen, will head to Glen Oaks. I feel sorry for Jerry. Monica’s freshman year she lived on the fifth floor in the dorms and though there were elevators, the lines were so long –Jerry just hauled her things up the stairs. Amanda had a third floor dorm her Sophomore year, sans elevators and then a second floor apartment. Now Zach’s apartment is on the third floor. I’m not gonna lie –I make as few trips up/down the stairs as possible. I make 1-2 trips just to make it look good and then I busy myself with unpacking or I walk up and down the hallway with the same box pretending I just made another trip up the stairs. I might even make it look good by panting and saying, “Whew, those stairs are kicking my butt!”

Biggest news -- we got a puppy! I know, such a proverbial Empty Nester thing to do, right? With our "baby" leaving us, I needed someone to love and care for. Our little male Yorkie is named Franklin Graham. We wanted a hearty name with dignity –not a traditional doggie name and something Presidential seemed befitting for our pup so we landed on the name Franklin, after the honorable President Franklin D. Roosevelt. I was set on the name McKinley but I was out voted and the children gave Graham as a middle name to appease me as that was also one of my top choice names. Graham, not being presidential but I thought being named after Alexander Graham Bell was dignified, too. Besides, our little black and tan pup looks about as big as a graham cracker. George was also a name of distinction that was in the running. I’m so in love with our puppy and he loves me too. Kids? What kids? Jerry, do we have kids? I’m so smitten with Franklin I’d almost forget we have three human kids of our own –except when the tuition payments hit us and then I remember, “Oh yeah, we have that one girl up at Kent."

I’m off to pick up some paint samples –with all these kids moving out there are so many possibilities for all of those empty bedrooms . . . .

P.S. Make that THREE solid hours devoted to Zach's moving preparations! I'm taking Puppy for his first trip to the Groomer on Friday and possibly an outing to Pet Smart (I've always wanted to stroll around in there with my very own doggie). But I mean, it is going to be a SOLID three hours --its all about quality, not quantity and I promise Zach, I'm there for ya, buddy!

The Ugly Side

As I wrote the post below, Zach is playing X Box (again) after sloppily rushing through a job I asked him to do, after first complaining and groaning how unfair I am and how it was too hot outside . . . .

Monica took her crabby self upstairs because she's sick of "my music" because after all, the house should revolve around her and her likes/dislikes . . . .

And Amanda is (again) MIA -- because she comes and goes like she's just a tenant in an apartment (that --ahem doesn't exactly pay rent) and not a family member in a home . . . .

I guess that's why they call a Mother's love unconditional.

My Children

My first born. Though in eager anticipation I awaited your arrival, I was at times wrought with fear. I was afraid of labor and delivery and if you would be okay but mostly, I was afraid of becoming a mother, what if I wasn't good enough? During my pregnancy I loved you even not knowing you and I thought that was the extent of my maternal love. What I did not know is the very moment you took your first breath, you unlocked recesses of my heart I never even knew existed. I discovered a new love that was amazing and fresh. With you everything was new and with each of your own discoveries, I learned more about myself, our Creator and this world we live in. My heart would leap just at the sight of you. You grew my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable joy. My first born, you are my joy.

You have filled my heart with greater joy. Psalm 4:7

My middle child. You broke the mold. Just when I thought I had motherhood all figured out, you came along and I soon discovered I had nothing figured out. I didn't know loving you was going to take me by surprise as it did when my first child was born. Your new life took my breath away. Thinking loving you would just be an extension of the motherly love I already experienced, I was simply blown away the first time I laid eyes on you. You led me on a path of discovery as I discovered not only who you were but who I was as your Mother. Your brand new life brought to me a brand new love. You stretched my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable love. My middle child, you are my love.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. I Corinthians 13:13

My last born. You are like the happy ending of a story you don't want to end. When saying good-bye to the characters of a good book, you can be left wondering, "What comes next?" And the first time I held you I thought, "What comes next?" When you were born I realized you were the secret desire of my heart, I longed for you before I even knew you. I could not wait to show you the world, to introduce you to all of creation and everything that is good. I wanted to teach you and help you grow but in the midst of that, you taught me and helped me to grow. You made me a mother I had never been before. Not just a third addition to our family, you were the culmination of joy and love. You opened my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable delight. My last born, you are my delight.

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

My Children. You are my joy, love and delight. I marvel at the creation of you.

For you created my inner most being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:13-14

WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE?

When we lived in Georgia, one of our neighbors was a single woman that had a 30-something son that lived with her. Gathering from small-talk conversations here and there, the son had fairly recently moved back home with Mom, after losing his job and unable to live on his own. But it was just a temporary arrangement, the Mom would say.

I'm usually not very chummy with our neighbors because for one, I am an extremely shy person. Most people wouldn't guess that about me but I find it PAINFUL to engage in conversations with people I don't know. Also I'm not a lover of the outdoors so standing at the fence for hours upon hours talking to a neighbor isn't something I'd be very apt to do --but Jerry, my socially equipped husband, would find no greater way to spend an afternoon. And he did, many times.

And so our dear sweet neighbor would often tell of her son, "He's very hard working, such a nice young man --he just fell on some hard times but he's working hard to find another job . . ." But as far as I could tell, this 30-something man was well --not so hard working and not really looking for a job. He'd often say to Jerry, "I heard such-in-such place was hiring so I thought I'd go over there and put in an application." I mean, he thought a lot about things but putting those thoughts into action seemed an insurmountable task to the young man er, I mean --fully grow-up adult son. Jerry and I found it amusing how the mother spoke so highly of her son and yet, as far as we could see, he was just the opposite of everything she'd say. The son never stayed at one job every often as he often spoke of many different places, “. . when I worked over at . . . " and in a short amount of time too. We hardly ever saw him leave the house and not that we were the Mrs. Cravitz type but you know, in the course of our daily living, we hardly saw him out of his sofa-lounge wear or going to and from places. So maybe I'm being judgmental or harsh? Perhaps but most telling of this man was the condition of the neighbor's yard. The back yard was a disaster. The son brought his dog to Mom's with him and the dog did what dogs do in back yards, and the son never cleaned up after the dog --and the front yard had grass (weeds) 2 feet tall. The 30-something man would say, "Yeah, I'm 'bout to mow that grass for Mom." but much like the job hunting, the thinking rarely came to fruition and it wouldn't be long before we'd see the Mom mowing the yard.

Jerry always says of our own children, they can always come home. No matter what their age or circumstances, our home is their home –FOREVER. And I agree. We’d never turn our children away from living with us no matter their age or even how many they had in tow with them; spouse, children and a pet or two. That’s what Home should be – a place you can always go back to. Then again, if my 30-something year old unemployed son was living with me, my yard work would not be left undone and not because I'd demand that of him but hopefully because we instilled that in him --sort of that "earn your keep" mentality.

But this really isn’t about 30-something year old sons, former neighbors or yard work. In my lessons of learning to let go, I find this very strange phenomenon; that we as parents spend the entirety of our children’s childhood raising them up to be adults. It’s the end result, the goal, what we work towards. We teach them and prepare them, as best we know how, and then we let them go.

Let them go.

Everything we do is in an effort to make our children independent. Roughly at the age of two, they start grasping some of that concept when willfully demanding, “Mine! Mine!”, of almost any belonging, theirs or not. Along with trying to brand every item they ever touched as their very own, my toddling children used to also love to exclaim, "I do!" because they loved being so independent and free.

We cheered them when they learned to walk and talk and mastering using the potty was a celebration indeed. Early in life our children were taking these tiny steps towards total independence and as parents, we longed for it too. As a young mother I remember being anxious for that next milestone --I can't wait until they can walk, I can 't wait until they are out of a car seat, I can't wait until they can sit at the table and reach, I can't wait until they can . . . .

And now they can.

This is what we worked so hard towards, right?

So why is it so hard?

You see, I don't want a 30-something year old son living at home, not working nor attempting to work and not at the very least, helping around the house --and I certainly don't want his dog's poop piling up in my back yard. . . .

I don't want dependent adult children and Jerry sometimes jokes, "I'll be glad when I can walk around my own house butt naked."

But you know, that's just Jerry's way of saying he longs for some privacy in his own home.

I don't even know where this post is going except to say, this is a very strange stage of parenting for me. I want them to go and I want them to stay. All at the same time and at any given time, I can sum it up as feeling this way about my children --

PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

In some ways I'm still looking forward to those new milestones --I can't wait until they graduate college, I can't wait to see them choose a career or spouse --I can't wait to see where their lives go . . .I want so much for them and their future . . so much that does not include dog poop piling u in my back yard.

All I know is this, new Moms think they have so much to learn and they think at some point it finally clicks. It doesn't because as soon as you have one thing figured out, your children grow into a new stage. Parenting is constant learning and growing.

The best I can do is try to be the best learner I can be and open myself to growing.

They don't need me as much anymore and I guess in a way that says we accomplished our goal. Just like the first time I let go of a chubby toddler's hand and watched them walk away, I'm letting go now too --watching them walk away. And it leaves my heart screaming . .

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!

Then when they stumble or feel insecure and try to grab hold of my hand again it leaves my heart screaming . .

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

*sigh* I just can't figure it out.

I just hope they all go before Jerry starts strutting around in his birthday suit.

Peace and Quiet

I remember coming up to Mother's Day one year I was in the midst of cooking dinner, the washing machine going, tripping over towers of toys, TV blasting and three children running around the house when Zach approached me and wanted to know what I wanted for Mother's Day. I didn't really have anything in mind but more than that, it was just really bad timing on Zach's part. When I told him I really didn't want anything he kept pushing the issue and wanted to know something concrete.

but you know, like I said . . it was really bad timing. I finally said . .

"Peace and quiet! I'd just like some peace and quiet!"

But as three year olds would do, Zach took my request literally. In fact, so literally when his Cubbie Leader was asking the children what special things they had planned for their Moms for Mother's Day Zach said, "My Mom just wants some peace and quiet." She got a chuckle out of it (Judy Campbell).

Fast forward 15 years later.

Jerry is away at ROTC camp, Amanda is out to dinner with friends, Monica is at work and Zach is at the Y playing basketball.

*cricket cricket*

Be careful what you ask for.

Peace and quiet feels a lot like just being alone.

Best Days

Buried within a mundane very ordinary day, I found a gem. I had to be careful not to miss it because sometimes the shine of our gems get clouded out by the nothing-ness of the day.

A simple day.

A lasting treasure.

Saturday is a busy day for me. Since I work full-time outside of the home, Saturdays are my only errand/cleaning days. It wears me down sometimes and there are days I'd rather not be bothered but for the most part, I don't mind them. And if you come a little closer I'll share a secret with you --one that I certainly would not want my family to discover --- *whispers* I actually like housework; the cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping --all of it. I love serving my family. It's just who I am. But please keep that secret just between you and me, lest my family take me for granted!

So in this very ordinary day, I planned an early commissary trip. I wanted to be there when they opened at 9am so I can get the shopping done and get more work done at home. I asked the children who would go with me, "Not I", said Amanda. "Not I", said Zachary. "I will! I will go!", said Monica. After a slight grumbling of the time we'd depart the house, Monica agreed to go grocery shopping with me.

And that's it. It wasn't an exciting day. It was a work day. With my list and coupons in hand, I headed out to the commissary, Monica riding shot gun. We shopped, she pushed the cart and then with every item crossed off our list, we headed back home; unloading groceries, putting groceries away, cutting up and cleaning fruit, making room in the pantry, filling the snack drawer with treats ---just a very ordinary commissary trip.

The remainder of the day was chores. Chore day. Yes, there was a list; family room, living room, basement, bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchen --they all had their own list of things that needed attention and all the while, the washing machine ever running. This was no spectacular day. It wasn't even scrapbook worthy.

But behind the walls of work and chores I found a gem. I found Monica--just she and I. The two of us. We talked, we laughed, we sang songs, we drank coffee, we worked side-by-side and in that, I found the most treasured moments of just being together. Its these type of days I miss when she is away at school. I miss the ordinary things --I just miss her presence in the daily things we do.

Don't miss it. Don't miss the bonding and the relationship building that happens right there while you're cooking dinner, folding laundry or scrubbing a toilet. Though the chores might be the staring role in the feature, look closer there and find there is also a sub plot --another story going on and if you get too caught up in the work at hand, you might miss it. But if you're careful to look with your heart, there you will find a most glorious support role . . . .

and those are the best days.

Thank you Monica, I had the best day with you, today.

From Slavery to Graduation

It is very difficult for me to speak of these things because they are not my story to tell. I did not walk these steps; I did not fight this fight. So simply from the perspective of a by-stander, I try to grasp the significance of this day; Amanda’s graduation from college.

Slavery seems far reaching into our past. Even today the 60’s seem an era long gone where civil unrest was a common force in our American society. Men like Martin Luther King, Jr. paving the way for equality and freedom of choice of ALL people, regardless of their race. I’m afraid when things seem to far into our past we forget them, forget their significance, forget their meaning. We should not forget from where and which we come for the places we come from is the destiny of our future.

Today as Amanda accepts her degree from Miami University she does so as the first ever in her Newsome family line, embracing the spirit of “We have overcome”. For it was just one generation before her that her father attended segregated schools. He remembers integration and the unrest that ensued. Though the “colored children” were allowed to attend school with the white children, there still was a great divide of equality in education.

The generation before that, Amanda’s great-grand father, Zach Moore, was a share cropper, poor farmers that inherited a way of life birthed out of slavery. Basically, they were paid slaves but an honest day’s work didn’t necessarily earn you an honest day’s pay. This was a hard working generation of people embracing the freedom that was still new to them. Zach grew up a free man but with a taste of slavery in his mouth. Even as a grown man, he had a fear of “the white man” because he knew that freedom from slavery did not mean equality in a nation where there was still a vast separation in the equality of all men.

Zach’s father, Pompeii Moore, though not a slave himself he was born to slave parents who had been freed. Pompeii was no stranger to slavery as he watched his very own sister on the auction block one day. He witnessed first hand accounts of ownership of black people and I’m sure he vowed better for his own family one day.

Every generation a recovery from the last, the fight they took upon themselves, the sacrifices they made all paved the way for this day, Amanda’s college graduation. It was just one generation before her, her father that was able to even attain a high school education.

Amanda. 5^th generation from slavery.

Amanda. College graduate.

She represents them well.

She makes us proud.

Congratulations, Amanda on your graduation from Miami University.

Go now and teach.

Teach the future generations to read

and write

to grow

and learn

to live

and love

to know

and remember

the fight

the freedom

the place

from which you came

and to where you will go

with the blood, sweat, tears, love and blessings

of generations before you.

Letter To Batman

Dear Batman,

I miss you! It has been so long since we talked. I think of you often and sometimes I wish you would come back to visit me. Remember your friend, Zachary? He’s soon to graduate high school now. I bet you miss him as much as I miss you. Sometimes when I look at his 6’5” frame, I remember you and I look deep into his eyes trying to find you.

I realize when you used to come over every day I didn’t always greet you with the warmest smile. Sometimes you were just loud and would climb on my furniture and I would get annoyed. But now, in the quiet of my almost empty nest house, I’d give anything to hear your voice again, see you climb and “fight the bad guys”. I know you used to get annoyed with me too when I’d say to you, “Batman, its time for a nap now. . . .Batman! Use your inside voice! . . . Batman, don't climb on the back of the couch!” Or at the dinner table when I’d tell you, “Batman, you need to eat your vegetables to have strength to beat the bad guys.” Yeah, I was too bossy sometimes especially to a super hero such as yourself but you know, I just wanted what was best for you.

We had some good times too though, remember? Remember that one time it was around Christmas time and I had a tablecloth and centerpiece on the table? I walked out of the kitchen and saw pine cones scattered all over the floor and then I saw a broken red candle. I looked up only to find you all wrapped in that tablecloth and you looked at me and said, “I need a cape.” I didn’t get it, how important your cape was to you. Then one day I heard Monica, saying, “Oooo! I’m telling! You’re in trouble!” So I peaked around the corner from the kitchen and there you were standing on the back of the couch trying to climb onto the curtains and I not knowing you were able rescue yourself, went to pull you down and you said to me, “I need a cape.” I finally understood how important a cape was to your heroism so I made you one, you wore it out and I made you another one.

I suppose Moms like me don’t understand that a little bit (or a lot) of dirt on a cape isn’t such a bad thing. I mean, I used to have to wrestle that cape off of you to wash and then I just started sneaking it out of your bed while you slept so I could wash it but you were such a smart super hero; you would wake up the next day and sniff your cape and give me a look of suspicion. I guess you knew what I was up to, huh?

In a few weeks your friend Zach will graduate high school. He will put on a green cap and gown and walk down the isle to Pomp and Circumstance but when I look at him there marching in with the Class of 2010, in my mind I won’t see a green gown on him but a dark blue cape and in my head I won’t be hearing Pomp and Circumstance but that theme song you always used to sing, “Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na BATMAN!!!” because beneath that green gown and in the heart and soul of that 6’5” frame, there’s a Batman –he might not have come out for a very long time but you and I both know he’s there.

And I miss him.

Love,

Zach’s Mom

Leaving and Cleaving

Yesterday we took Zach on a campus visit and you know, I'm familiar because after all, I've done this before with our daughters. Even though visits to Miami University and Kent State brought me to tears, I was strong this time. Maybe I am growing up, learning to embrace a pre-empty nester stage. Maybe I finally get it.

Maybe.

Today our Pastor started a new sermon series on the family, Family Focus, you know --not to be confused with Focus on the Family because that's been done. And Pastor began at the --well, at the beginning. You know, like Julie Andrews did with the von Tapp children, he said, we'll, "start at the very beginning, a very good place to start."

I was ready to start --and possibly break into a musical stance because I know every word of every song from the Sound Of Music --oh but this isn't about that family so time to pay attention now.

And pay attention I did. I really did. Here we are in Genesis 1, the very beginning --God's design of the family unit; a husband, wife & children. So far so good because I understand God's design of the family. I get one husband, one wife. I get divorce was not God's plan . I understand blended families and single parenting homes were not God's design. I understand a MAN and a WOMAN --not two of one but one of each. So Now I can probably sit back and coast through the sermon. Having once myself been on the brink of divorce, I understand the trials of marriage but I also understand even when you can't commit your heart and self to a person that has broken your heart time and time again, you CAN commit your heart and self to a GOD that has healed every crack, a GOD that walked me through the fire. A God that brought restoration to my marriage, to my heart.

So I was all set to sit back and only half listen, perhaps make a mental grocery list for this afternoon's commissary trip and then, and then, AND THEN --Pastor said something that put on the breaks.

Leave and Cleave.

Hold on Pastor, now you've gone too far! I was 'bout to get up and call a Time Out. This ain't no do re mi and I ain't fa la la la la-ing along!

These aren't words I want to hear. My heart has spent the last 4 years wresting with this leaving stuff. Leave? Visions of Zach on campus yesterday --far far away from me ran through my mind. I wanted to shut down but as the Holy Spirit has this tendency to do, I heard a new message in this Genesis 1. It wasn't about my leaving but their leaving. The message for me today was not about my marriage but my family and now I was listening with more intent and I was listening as a mother, not just as a woman.

And I was learning. learning more, growing into a deeper understanding.

Speaking of her future, Amanda once said something about moving out of state and I asked her if she'd really leave me and she said, "Mom, its what children do --they grow up and they leave." I seriously wanted to slap her, that cuts deep. I mean I didn't really want to slap her and I know what she said was true but you know, I'm still learning about letting go.

Left up to my own design, it would be more like --I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to leave and there will be no cleaving. But you know what? Its not my design.

Ready or not, here I come!

Ready or not, Melissa, its time for them to leave. Ready or not Melissa, they're gonna have to cleave too. Its not about them wanting to leave. Its not about me wanting them to stay. Its just not about our own choices. It's about God's design for the family. He reminded me that they will leave me, he will not. And God hasn't forgotten every aspect of his plan, his design. He knows my heart. He knows my struggles. He knows how hard it is for me to let go. He knows my pain because he's God.

A perfect God.

That knows far more than me.

What's best for my family.

And my children.

A perfect God and His design of the family.

Leave and Cleave.

Who am I to mess with that?

Its Not Just Basketball

I have long held the belief that lessons learned outside of the classroom are just as important as the lessons learned within. Books serve us well but education is not just something to read about or an equation to figure out.

Education is the learning process, helping our children to "figure it out" and then put into action the things which they learned. We hope we served them well, their educators and parents and our report card, so to speak, is how they use those things we help plant into their brains.

Accomplishments can be measured in many different ways, not just a letter on a grade card. Accomplishments are things our children excel at and those "ah" moments when pieces start to fit together.

Along with 2+2 and ABC's we help to build character in our children equipping them to make good moral choices in life.

So thank you to Papa, Debe, Hannah, Andy, Drew, Eli, Aunt Marsha, Morgan, Tete, Aunt Sam, Uncle Todd, Shelby, Spencer and Sophie -- thanks to all of you for supporting Zach, for understanding how important it is to leave your heart and soul out on the court and look up into the stands and see familiar faces.

Thank you for helping to mold our son, build his character on and off the court.

Thank you for getting it.

Because perhaps one day Zach will be sitting in the stands as a father, an uncle, a cousin or friend. . . . in support of a player out there on the court or field, pouring their heart and soul into a game . . .

And Zach will sit up there in full knowledge of what that feels like, to be down there playing . . hoping to win . . .hearing the crowd . . . . . a crowd that is there for you . . . .

And Zach will recall those lessons of losing, and winning, leading and following, being committed and working hard, making sacrifices and tough choices, being part of a team . . . .

He will remember those days he left his heart and soul out there on the court . . .

Win or loose . . .

And he will realize how those lessons served him well in life. On the court. Off the court.

He will remember . . .

That you were there for him . . .

As he claps . . .

And cheers . . .

And hopes for Victory because after all . . .

Its not just basketball

Notes

When they were younger my children often left me notes on my pillow. I loved them. After reading them, I'd slip them into my night stand drawer. Now years later, whenever I need me a pick-me-up or whenever I'm missing my girls, I pull the notes out and read them. I reminisce about those innocent childhood days. I laugh. I cry.

Here are a few of them exactly how they were written.

Don't let me forget to where my hair silly and don't let me forget my instrument. Please let me sleep as long as I can. I need some cloughs to where. Thank you very much for the lipgloss. Love, Monica

I love you Mom. Thank you for such a great birthday.

Mom,

Please don't forget to turn off my lava lamp because the last time I forgot to tell you it stayed on for 8 hours!!!!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!

Mommy,

Please wake me up early to study my spelling words. I love you soooooooooooooooooooooooooo MUCH! Amanda

Dear Mom,

My tummy hurts. But I want you to come to my room just me and you. Also I want my tooth out it is killing me. From, Monica Newsome P.S. I love you to the water tower and back. NOT :) P.S.S. I love you to heavens heaven and back a million times.

Dear Mom,

When are you coming home. Have a safe trip. I love you. DRIVE SAFE! I love you. Zach keeps crying. Make sure you wake me up so I can say by to you. Love, Monica

(this one is in colorful crayons)

39

thirty-nine

more beautiful

kids growing up another year of your life

I love you for another year

Still young

Happy Birthday

I just wanted to tell you how much I love you and that you are the best thing that has happened to me.

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to ask if there was something wrong because you seam very angry and I hope you do not stay angry for long. I hope you have a safe trip to Chicago and home. I LOVE YOU! Love, Monica P.S. Don't stay angry long. XOXOXOXO

Dear Mom,

I love you. I want to know if I can ware shorts tomorrow because I know that it is going to be hot enough and I just want to because I think that by now I should be able to ware shorts. I can't wait to get your camp kern money so I can go shopping Maybe buy my own lipgloss company, It will be called Purple lipgloss for Princesss . . .or something like that but I don't think I will every get tired of purple. My wedding is going to be purple. Love, Monica Ramona Newsome P.S. I love you!!

Dear Mom, I love you very much. I just wanted to say hi. Love, Monica P.S. I love you to the moon and back one thousand times.

(Here's one I saved from Jerry's pillow)

Dear Dady, I thank you for leting me help. I like working with you it is fun. I also like haning out with you. Most Dad's and son's don't have a good reltionship like us. I love you. I LOVE YOU! I love you Dad From, Zach your son

Respect

Mom I said this a thousand times. sometimes People say to get them off your back. Sometimes people mean it. Well this time Mom I mean it. I'm sorry I'm really sorry. I hoped that you will forgive me.

Sometimes I mean to show it but sometimes I don't. I'm sorry when I complain and stomp by feet. Or when you tell me something I indure [ignore]. Or I groan I talk under my breath.

But Mom I don't mean it. You have the right to punish me. sometimes I see it in you when your tired. You want some rest. Like you would want a big vacation. You deserve one. I see it you came home from a long day at work.

Most people rest after that but you haft to take the complants [complaints] from me. I never say hi any more. I'm always demanding something. When I don't get my way. I pout and get mad.

All I'm saying is here's your vacation. I will try not to give you a hard time. Thanks for being super Mom. Love, Zach

There are countless more. I love them all!

I love those days. I love my children. They are my heart, my past, my present and my future.

Thank you Amanda, Monica and Zachary for loving me and being such great children. It is my honor to be your Mom.

I love you to the moon and back.