Blue Yonder

There Are No Squishy Baby Photos In this Post

I was supposed to meet my new little nephew for the first time on Monday. 

He and his folks and his brother and sister are in town for two days only. 

We have SO been looking forward to spending time with them. 

I fully intended to soak in every little bit of our new guy, as well as my one and only niece (8 nephews, 1 niece) and to delight fully in watching my guys play with their "far away cousins", but instead, I've been in bed for two days. 

Sinus junk, fever, rattling chest, bone wracking cough, headache, dizziness,and so, so tired. Sounds fun right? 

And all I can think about are the little chubby legs that I'm missing, the family photo that didn't get taken, and where is the NyQuil? WHERE is the bloody NyQuil? 

Being sick just sucks. 

Being sick in the summer sucks. 

Being sick in the summer, when there is a wee baby to hold and snuggle, well that just sucks the most of all. 

Blech. 

And now I'm going to curl up into a little ball and swear. A lot. I'll return when I have something nice to say.

Reuniting

Our family reunion was sticky and sweet and something special to savor for always. 

It was, “You haven’t changed a bit,” or “my how you’ve grown,” - the first maybe not entirely true of us older folks, the second being all too true of those young ones.

 It was going through 10 hugs at least, just to get from one side of the room to the other. 

It was introductions and reintroductions, while the folks who married into it all were doing their best to keep the names and relations straight. 

It was lots of, “It’s been too long” and “What are you up to these days?” 

It was passing around old photos and talking about the love that started this whole crazy thing. 

 

It was passing around new photos too - ultrasound pictures of a new little family member to come, my little brother's first child - and talking about the love that keeps it all going, this family of ours. 

It was a little musician learning that he’s next in a long line of pickers. 

It was a few tears from those of us who remember other hands playing and other voices singing the songs that we still hold dear. 

 

It was cousins who didn’t know each other yesterday, but today are fast friends. 

 

It was trying to figure out just how we’re related – second cousins? Third? First twice removed?

It was cowboy golf, horseshoes and volleyball, old stories and new laughs, card games and frying fish, red shoulders and noses, mamas chasing small bodies with sun screen, sticker burrs in feet, and smiles on faces.

.  

It was hide and seek and water balloons, little hands sneaking too many sodas out of the cooler, and another cookie off the tray. 

It was asking after the ones who didn’t make it, being sure to say, “send them our love,” and it was remembering the ones who have gone before us too. 

It was “remember that one time?” and “those sure were the good old days, weren’t they?” It was knowing that these are the good old days too. Right here. Right now. 

Our reunion was cookies and brownies and lemon bars and coconut cake, sweet potato fries, fried catfish, peanuts in pepsi, potato chips and lots of “I really shouldn’t….” and then, “well maybe just one…” 

It was kids and dogs, all running, all jumping, while grownups fanned themselves and wondered where they get that energy.

 

It was little ones who needed “just one more hour” of swimming back at the hotel, because it was all too good for it to end just yet. 

It was old folks staying up far too late talking, because we wished it didn't have to end too. 

It was so many hugs and smiles and then tears when it was time to say goodbye. It was making promises that it won’t be so long before we see each other again. 

It was a long ride home, talking about all the fun we had and looking forward to the next summer when we can do it all again. 

It was a long sigh, down that long road, because it went by so fast, but also because we know that it will go on, this love of ours. 

It was looking out at the cornfields whirring past, and feeling warm and held tight in the knowledge that we’re a part of something good, something big, something important, something that was, and is,

 F A M I L Y.

Without a Hitch

Um, okay, how about now y'all pray that some far off never-knew-they-existed relative up and leaves me a 20 acre farm of my very own?   Throw in some horses while you're at it okay? 

I'm just saying, you all have some POWERFUL prayers! They sure worked wonders for us! :-) Thank  you so much for all the well wishes, good vibes, prayers and thoughts sent our way. They were just what we needed. 

Ryder lolled about watching his beloved PEEP for a while yesterday morning, ate a whole bunch of saltines (did you know they make them bite-sized now? Everything is cuter when it's bite sized - even saltines.). He chugged all the strawberry kiwi sparkling water that we had on tap, and then he stood up and declared, "I'm not sick anymore." 

And he wasn't. 

Just like that. 

PHEW! 

And the recital! 

Do you know that boy of mine was not even nervous? Not one bit! He had this whole swagger about him. He never questioned, not even once, that he and his little partner were going to rock the house, and that everyone was going to love them. And they did, of course. 

 

I caught him fidgeting and spinning his guitar before he went on, and I said, "Honey, it's going to be alright. You're going to do so well."

 He looked at me like I'd grown feathers. "I know. I'm just tired of sitting here." 

Oh. 

I don't think that I've ever, not ever, had the kind of self assuredness that this kid possesses. Me, I would have thrown up for sure. And we're clean out of the saltines, so that would be bad. 

 We celebrated him duly - took him out for the biggest milkshake we could find, both sets of grandparents included, played lots of arcade games, and presented him with his very own trophy. He was so surprised!

 

He's been a little miffed that his brother earns belts for karate, and received a cool framed certificate and engraved holder for his belts when he promoted. He wanted to know, "What do guitar players get?"

I gave him the whole speech about being happy for his brother without thinking about what he'd get, and how playing music was it's own reward, la la la la la, and then I ordered up a trophy for his first recital. He's right, guitar players should be honored for their achievements too.

The trophy says his name and, "A Real Guitar Hero" and the date. He thought it was pretty fantastic, and wanted to know if it "cost thousands, since it's real gold." (Uh, no.) He also wanted to know if he could get one for his NEXT recital, and can it say, "Legend of Rock" ? See what I mean? Swagger. 

Happy Weekend!

 

and the Blue Yonder Boys

Into Every Life...

... a few Saltines and cups of ginger ale must fall. 

At about 1 o'clock this morning my littlest fella, my little go box carrying, pesto lovin' bunny, began throwing up. There is no polite way to say that is there? I tried, really I did, but although there are many MANY synonyms, none of them are real sweet. 

He's been fine since that first episode though. Warm, but no sick tummy. 

Frankly, he's milking it for all it's worth. He's fully enjoying the endless cartoons on Papa's computer, and the steady stream of head rubbing and clear liquids being lavished upon him. He even thinks that it's great fun to have that bowl next to him. Oh the suspense, the drama, the excitement of being "He Who Must Not Be Far From the Bowl."

 

For the mama though, it is never fun when your little guy is feeling bad. It is even less fun in the middle of the night. It is even LESS less fun, when it happens on the day of your other little man's first guitar recital, the day before you are supposed to leave town for a family reunion. 

NO NO NO!!!! 

If you are of the praying persuasion, this is where I beg ask you to lift up the Blue Yonder gang. 

We need a little guy to feel better fast. 

We need his brothers to steer clear of these germs.

We need a little guitar hero to be able to relax, enjoy and celebrate the first of what I'm sure will be many rocking performances. 

I need a nap :-) And maybe some chocolate.

   

and the Blue Yonder Boys

We've Come for the Roosters

 

There is much debate at my house, as to the reasoning behind this new chicken behavior.

 My oldest, Luke, the official keeper of the chickens, lets them out of their coop in the morning to roam about the backyard. 

They punch their little chicken time cards and go about their solemn duties, ridding the yard of fire ants, weeding the garden and polishing off the toast crusts tossed out the door by management. It's a grind. 

Here lately though, we've begun to wonder if they aren't organizing - maybe there is some kind of chicken union forming out there? 

They peer in the window at least a few times a day and speak in hushed bawks. They're up to something. 

What though? That is the question. 

Some of us think that these near 100 degree days have them planning an infiltration of our air conditioned quarters. 

Others of us believe that they are merely wondering what it's like on the other side. You know how some folks drive around the wealthier neighborhoods and sigh, wondering what it would be like to live in one of those big gated estates with the tree-lined drives? Well, maybe the chickens are gazing in, and imagining themselves with indoor plumbing and refrigerated scratch? I don't know.

Still others in this house think that the girls are playing lookout. A couple of them peer in the window while the other wayward fowl is doing who knows what off in the bushes. Maybe she's rolling her own St. Augustine smoke, or maybe she's booking airfare for three to Jamaica. Who can say? 

Heck, by the look of that window, maybe they are just wondering if the inhabitants of this house have ever heard of Windex. 

As for me, I think that these teenage girls of mine are after one thing, and one thing only. 

If you've hung out in a mall lately, you know what I'm talking about. I've seen it in the human variety of teenage chicks too - standing in front of Hollister, smacking their gum and squealing, "Oh. MY GAWD! He didn't!"

My young ladies are preening. They are strutting about. They are trying out their newfound feminine wiles. They are looking in that window, and they are wondering "Can Rosemartine and Pearleone come out to play?"

Sorry gals. This is no longer a co-ed farm. 

and the Blue Yonder Boys