Celebrating the 4th - aka: Blowing stuff up

I believe myself to be a patriotic person. The sight of a flag rippling in the wind really moves me. Add to that a veteran in a uniform and I'm ready for tears. I even cry at fireworks shows (as well as weddings and graduations and marching bands in parades.) Even with all this emotion, there is another that goes hand-in-hand with the 4th of July. . .fear.

You see, my husband is a pyromaniac. If there is a fire, his only desire is to make it bigger. And if he has fireworks available, his goal is to create some explosive monstrosity that will make all his spectators run away in fear and fuss at him afterward. It is his art. And he is good.

Much to my dismay, he has spent many years training our children to keep the family tradition. The first year my son-in-law, Eric, spent the 4th with us, he was blown away. (like that pun?) Now every year, they get all giggly as they plan their trip to the fireworks store.

Friendly Warning: If you happen to see our car driving down 411 on Saturday, I suggest you keep a safe distance. We probably qualify for some TDOT danger rating.

Eric's official initiation into our family came the moment my husband decided it would be more efficient to light several of his monstrosities at once. . .using a spray can of FIRE. The worst thing was the look on Eric's face. . .it was a look of awe. Bill now has a willing follower and the two of them together? It's double-scary.

He is so serious about his craft that we have several homemade fireworks platforms in the garage - pvc tubes mounted to boards. Noooo, we don't lower ourselves to use mere glass bottles. And if you're really feeling brave, you can try out one of the handheld launchers that Eric created last year - pvc tube in HAND. Oh yes, moms just love that idea.

I should have realized this the first 4th of July we spent together, the moment a bottle rocket zipped through my hair. Every year since, our "fireworks fund" has increased exponentially. Last year, no kidding, over $350. Most of them were buy one, get one free. You do the math. We were still shooting fireworks long after our neighbors were trying to go to sleep - or considering calling the police.

So, what do I do on the 4th when the sun sets? I usually try to shoot off my favorite picks (probably some purple flames spewing out of a box) very early before they start to get brave and wreckless. Then I retreat to a safe spot with my happy little sparklers and wait for someone to get a flesh wound or blow off a finger. At last, my nursing skills come in handy.

And the next day, I look out at my backyard that will no doubt look like Christmas morning with burned papers and tubes on the ground and little parachutes hanging from the trees. . .and know that I have 364 days left until next year. Just enough time to save up that fireworks fund.

Happy Independence Day everyone!

It finally happened. After 22 years, my first chick has left the nest. I am still processing what this means to me.

When people say things like, "just yesterday she was a little girl with wild curly hair who liked to make up plays in the garage," they are right. It was just yesterday. . .and today, we are here.

I am so very lucky to know that my daughter is with a young man who loves her (and who we love dearly.) He is the perfect addition to our family.

I mean, look at him! He is adorable! And trust me, he is the perfect calm to her storm. We couldn't have chosen a guy more suited for our daughter. But we didn't choose him. . .

. . .she did. . .

As a mom, you think of this day so many times as you watch your babies grow. And you always wonder, how will I feel? Will I be sad? Will my heart break to see her go? As I sat there in that chair in the front row, I cycled through every emotion imaginable. And when I saw her coming down the aisle with her Dad by her side, I thought I would crumble into a heap on the grass. . . but it wasn't because of sadness. It was nothing but pride. I was so proud of my baby, proud to be a part of getting her to this point in her life, and happy beyond belief! I happened to notice a dear friend of mine and she had her hands triumphantly in the air and was saying, "YES!" And that was it. That was exactly what it felt like.

Very proud Mom with her boy. . .(who isn't getting married anytime soon)

and neither is this one. . .
a mom can only stand so much happiness at once, afterall.

More photos will follow as they trickle in. Yes, I was the mother-of-the-bride and I didn't take a single picture. I was busy fussing with DJs, feeding bridesmaids, and helping my bride keep her witts about her in 97 degree heat. There is so much story to tell. . .I'll save that for another day.

For today. . .thank your moms, hug your babies, and keep plowing your row!

Thanks Jessie and Jessica for sharing your beautiful pictures!

The beginning of a garden. . .

The decision to start a blog has been an interesting process for me. In the end, I realized that it would be a fun project for me and possibly something that may interest my children as they grow older. I spent a few minutes worrying about whether anyone on the planet would ever be interested in what I have to say and quickly resolved that even 1 or 2 people would be enough to make the effort. I count myself as number 1. If you are reading this, assume you're number 2.

The title came from a quote I read sometime last year when I was feeling overwhelmed with life. "I can only plow my own row." Simple, yes. I think that we often get off track with the everyday things in our own lives because we are either trying to plow someone else's row (leaving our plow to head off on some crooked path to nowhere) or we pay too much attention to how other people are plowing, or not plowing, their own rows. This blog is just me attempting to plow my row. I may end up with a spectacular garden or a compost heap. But like Forest Gump's Momma always said, "You never know what you're gonna get."