Our History

For the past 10 days I have been on a road trip with my four kids.  We have seen so much-- mountains, the Mississippi River, history museums, hotel pools, what feels like a million miles of farmland, country stores, Beale Street in Memphis, tributes to Elvis, Helen Keller, Martin Luther King Jr. and Abraham Lincoln, baseball games, fireworks stands, signs about Jesus, signs about triple X rated bookstores, fast food restaurants for days and a lot of open road.  We visited family, jumped on trampolines, swam at water parks, cheered on cousins at swim meets and baseball games.  We laughed a lot.  I threatened to pull over a lot and maybe once said one of my kids was going to have to find a ride home to Michigan. We had to pull over during a tornado warning and wait out the storm with strangers in a small Kentucky town. We heard the news about the Supreme Court overturning the ban on gay marriage and we cheered in the minivan as we headed across another state.

I have so many things I want to say and write about. So many! And I will, when we get back home.  But for now, I am thinking so much about history--visiting it, learning about it, seeing it, living it, creating it.  

Each stop we've made has impacted my kids and me. We've had discussions about what it was like when...what we would do if...We talked about the whys and hows. We talked about Elvis and the south and baseball and civil rights and equal rights and Johnny Cash and my aunt's dementia and my mother's mental health and why she still smokes and needs so much medicine; and how beautiful the mountains are and the red dirt and how hot it was in Memphis; and how there are good people in the world and also bad people, and trust and fear and so much more.  

We talked about how our country is complicated just like family can be, and how there is so much to love but also things that we hope change and how we can be a part of it all.

This road trip with everything we saw and everything we did and talked about will be part of our family history.  I hope my kids remember it forever, I know I will.

Saw this quote on Instagram this week and well, I love it.

These Days & #iPPP

Professor Plum, in the conservatory with a revolver.  I haven't thought about Professor Plum in a million years.  The other day at my in-laws' house my mother-in-law asked if I wanted to have one of Tim's old games, Clue.  We took it home, dusted off the cover and started playing with the family.  I think it's strange to play a game where the whole theme is murder.  I mean that's kind of weird isn't it?  But I loved this game when I was younger.  As we we tried to guess if it was indeed Professor Plum or Miss Scarlet, I was kind of overwhelmed with memories of being a kid.

I loved being a kid.   I vividly remember sitting in my bed with the pink canopy asking "why do we even have to grow up anyway?"  I remember winters full of sledding and snow forts and cross-country skiing with my brother, sister, mom and dad.  I remember family picnics and softball games in the summer.  I remember road trips in the station wagon and winning the right to stretch out in the "back-back" or the floor  (Which I say a big what the hell? to now, because who wants to lay on the car floor, how weird!) Sitting in the backseat (or laying on the floor) listening to my mom and dad sing old camp songs, not just sing, harmonize.  Staying up late on Friday nights to watch Dukes of Hazard, Dallas and if I was super lucky Falcon's Crest (I know, go ahead and say a big what the hell? to why my parents were letting me watch those shows!).  

Staying outside all day playing with Beth, Amy, Jessica, Steve and maybe Jason if he was around and Richie, but he was kind of know-it-all.  There were family walks--even our mean old cat, Furry Socks, followed us.  Talent shows in the front yard, Christmas plays that always ended in family dance parties to Michael Jackson or Chaka Kahn songs.  When the tax refund check came in the mail we got to go to Mr. Steak and celebrate.  My little brother and I couldn't wait for my dad to get home every night from work and when his little tan Festiva pulled in the driveway we'd run out to greet him with hugs. Playing Green Glob, Ghosts and Graveyards, Hide and Seek, Rook, Clue and Hearts for hours and hours.  

I never wanted to grow up.  Until a few years later when all I wanted to do was grow up already, geez.

About four years, maybe five.  That is the length of my magical childhood memories.  My particular childhood/family ended because of a divorce and all kinds of weird dysfunction and sadness.  BUT it would have been changed no matter what because all kids grow up.  We all grow up.  

So, I watched my kids play a good old-fahsioned game of who murdered who with what and heard the classic Natalie Merchant song in my head.  You know, "Theeeeese arrrrre days, you'll remember..." 

Peyton is trying to make sure no one sees who he thinks the murderer is.

We made Lucy wear gloves because she was still in the post-Norovirus contagious time-period when we played.

I hope my kids look back with all kinds of warmth and joy when they think of their childhood, these days.  Even if we totally screw up their teen years, I feel pretty good that they have a solid foundation of good times and now Clue to hold onto.

We found this little note when we opened the Clue box.  Apparently, Tim was a fan of the L.A. Raiders 30 years ago.  And he thought his brother Bob was a cheater.

Awww, remember this song about remembering from good ol' Natalie Merchant (this song also brings a lot of college memories back too!):



All the pictures in this post were taken on my phone.  Come play with me on Instagram.

Now Link Up
Greta, Angela (my LTYM co-producer & iPPP co-host-er) and I want to see your funny, your yummy, your heartfelt, your favorite phone photos of the week.  Of course, it doesn't have to be from an iPhone.  All you need is a blog post containing at least one photo from any phone camera.  Link up below and don't forget to visit some of the others!

<img src=”http://mamamash.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/ippp-polaroid-125-x-125.jpg” alt=”GFunkified” style=”border:none;” />

Link up with your blog posts featuring any phone photos every week! Your post can be about anything, as long as it contains at least one picture from your phone. Link will be open until 11:59pm central Friday night.

Furry Socks/Cats Suck

I hate cats.  There.  I said it.  And I 'll say it again I hate cats.  If you love cats, please don't take this personally.  I'm happy for you.  I don't wish cats ill-will.  I just don't like cats.  I don't like kitten videos on YouTube, big cats, little cats, striped cats, fat cats....nope, don't like them.

A million years ago, my family got a kitten.  A sweet little calico kitty with patches of grey, brown and white.  I was five years old and extremely excited about having a pet.  

I wanted to name the newest member of our family Furry.  Um, I was five, it sounded perfectly fine to me.  My older sister, Dana, thought I was stupid and wanted to name her Socks.  And of course, per usual, my sister's idea was the smart, better one. (The kitty had white paws just like socks.) But per usual, I wouldn't budge and cried about the unfairness of life and how Dana always got her way.  My mother and father had us compromise and name the cat Furry Socks.  But for the next 11 years she would simply be called "Kitty."

I showed nothing but little kid adoration to that damn cat and she never liked me.  In fact she would hide and pounce on me as I walked around the corner.  There were several times my mother would have to get the broom out to swat the cat off my leg.  Sometimes at night I would wake up to find the cat attacking my feet as if Kitty thought they were mice stuck under the covers.

So yeah, I have literal childhood wounds from a mean cat.  That is only part of the reason cats aren't my favorite.  I am way too insecure for how cats walk around the house like you are inferior, even though you clean up their poop.  They only come sauntering around when they want to and if you piss them off they hiss at you.  What the hell?

I'm more of a dog person.  The "hey look at me, love me, look at me, do you love me, can I make you love me, hey want to play?" openness/neediness of a dog appeals to me.  Um, you might say I can relate more to dogs. 

I'm more Odie than Garfield.

My husband, Tim, knows how I feel.  We've been together for over 14 years and you know I've told my cat story a couple times.  That cursed Furry Socks.  That's why it was all the more shocking when my husband showed up at the front door yesterday with a kitten.  That mother f#*&er brought home a cat.

My kids ran out to greet their dad and the fuzzy ball of wonder he was gleefully holding.  I slammed the front door locking them all outside.  I might have said a lot of few very bad words.  I might have overreacted a bit.  But there was no way I was going to adopt a cat/kitten/kitty.

Tim looked amused, confused.  "How can you not love this cute little kitten?," he asked through the glass door.  "Is your heart made of stone? C'mooooooon."

"No way! How could you do this?," I dramatically screamed.  "You know I don't like cats."

After a little more hysterical screaming, a few tears from my disappointed kids, it was over.  

"Mommy you need to get over your past fears," Lucy sobbed.  Yeah, I've told my kids my cat story too, they know all about Furry Socks.  

Even with the kids' tears and the animal loving husband's goofy smile, I was not swayed.  I only let them in the house for five minutes and then sent the cat back.  Tim and the kids took the kitten back to the owner to find another home.  Because I hate cats.

"When I grow up I'm going to have 10 cats," JT said this morning.

"Well, then I won't come visit you," I informed him.

Here's a video (I didn't make it) that shows that cats can be jerks.  I laughed at some of this, but it also haunted me.  There is one shot of a cat pouncing on a toddler that brought back a lot of painful memories.

Twain is Timeless

Thank god my kids love books and reading.

I remember the way my dad's voice sounded.  I can hear it in my memory, like a long-forgotten sweet lullaby.  Soothing. Calm. Smart. Safe.  That was my dad as he read book after book to my sister, brother and me when we were kids.


The entire Little House on the Prairie series. Oh how we loved those books.  My sister and I would recreate the scenes my father read to us.  Of course, being the older, wiser, calmer one, my sister would get to be Mary Ingalls.  And of course, being the irrational, emotional, impulsive one, I would be Laura Ingalls.  We totally fit the parts.


My father read so many books to us.  Sometimes I would hang on every word, so deep into the story I couldn't wait to find out what happened next. Begging for "just one more chapter, pleeeeaaassee!"  Other times, I played with my toys while he read.  Sorry to say, but I wasn't a fan of The Hobbit series.  (Never was and still am not.)  


He read Watership Down to us (when I was 6 years old), The Call of the Wild, The Chronicles of Narnia and more.


Those nights were the launching pad for my imagination.  Those nights were also the foundation for some of my sweetest childhood memories.  


There's something special about reading aloud to your kids.  Experiencing and rediscovering the joy of a story together. Now I have the great privilege of experiencing that joy with my own children.  And believe me I feel honored. 

I just got done reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to my oldest two children, Peyton (age 10) and Lucy (age 8).


It was an edited "child-appropriate version" that someone had given Peyton as a gift.  We laughed at some of the crazy things that went on in Huck's life.  We were appalled together about slavery and the treatment of Jim.  We had silly discussions one minute and extremely moving, deep discussions the next.  


My children amazed me with their empathy and compassion.  I feel as if I know their hearts better after sharing this experience with them.  


"Can you read the Harry Potter series to us?," Peyton asked after I was done.  He has read all the books, but said he "wants to hear it all together."  


"Are you kidding me?," I asked excitedly.  "Of course I will, I can't wait."

What are you reading to your kids?

This is a good site/resource to help get some ideas for books for your kids to read on their own and for everyone to read together-ReadKiddoRead.com

And just for fun, the oh so quotable Mark Twain:


"Man will do many things to get himself loved; he will do all things to get himself envied."
Mark Twain just summed up Facebook. 


"Always do right. That will gratify some of the people, and astonish the rest."


"The political and commercial morals of the United States are not merely food for laughter, they are an entire banquet."

I mean come on, this is so true today.  Twain is timeless.