Wednesday, September 26, 2012
For months now, this sweet girl o' mine has been planning to participate in a Tough Mudders race. She has been training faithfully. It didn't sound like fun to me when she described it, but running in general is not fun to me...though I supposed that an obstacle race through mud might be more interesting.
And then this past Sunday night, in anticipation of the race this coming Saturday, I went to the Tough Mudders Website, clicked on "About", then "Obstacles" and began to hyperventilate.
To borrow a phrase, SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL, what is this girl thinking!!
*NOTE* No one, I repeat, NO ONE may repeat ANY of this information to Caitlin's grandmothers. It may cause ill health. We already have one grandma certain that she will catch awful diseases from the mud; we don't need them to know that is the LEAST of concerns. So for their safety, and mine, NO ONE SAY A THING -- GOT THAT???
They can hear the story AFTER the fact.
Anyway, obstacles named "Electric Eel", "Trench Warfare", "Boa Constrictor", "FireWalker", "Underwater Tunnels", and "Arctic Enema" to name a few, put me in a bad frame of mind, and breathing into a paper bag. The poor Farmer had to endure a rant from me on the insanity of such a competition, and the now-questioned intelligence of our second child and only daughter. I was so wound up that I had to watch a Dateline murder mystery to calm down...How upset was I? I never fell asleep during the entire show!!
Unheard of in this household...
I decided that this girl MUST NOT PARTICIPATE, and I would do everything in my power to dissuade her. So I called her up at work and said, in my best mother voice, "I AM BEGGING YOU TO SKIP THE TOUGH MUDDER RACE!" and then, when silence was the response, "I'm prepared to pay you $100 to not go..."
Apparently, that wasn't enough because all I got was an "Oh, Mom..." and then a lot of reassurances about how she has been training for months, and she will skip anything that she thinks is dangerous for her, and that she just wants to see what she can do, and that her brother will be there with her...yada, yada, yada.
Not satisfied, I reminded her that her employers really need her to be at work, and if she is injured or exhausted, it will be a BIG COST to her life.
What I should have done is tried to get her boss to sweeten the cash pot...It should be worth something to them...Hmmmm...
I may just have to call her every day with a better offer...This could get expensive.
In the meantime, I have called her brother -- who was supposed to be her teammate until he got injured while training for it, as did his buddy, who started this whole debacle by telling Caitlin about it -- and demanded assurances that he would be present to take her to the hospital when the need arises.
I believe I heard an "Oh, Mom..." from him too.
And so I can't wait until it is Saturday night when we know how she has survived/triumphed, which in this case are pretty much the same thing.
Oh, children...even as adults they keep us on our knees...and I'm not even going to bring up the half-marathon she is signed up for on Sunday...I don't think I'll have to offer her money to skip that one.
But just in case, I'm heading for the ATM...
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I was proud of my little garden this year. It looked good and most everything grew very well.
But I am tired of it now.
It needs water, but I don’t think I will do any more irrigating because what is left is mostly compost material. And while everything grew well, there were numerous failures, though not in growth!
I didn’t like the flavor of the curly parsley I planted…of course, it grew fantastically well. The cukes I planted didn’t turn out to be the variety I thought they were. Instead of MarketMore, they were some kind of weird cross between an English cuke and the regular kind, and as soon as they were picked, turned rubbery unless you promptly wrapped them in plastic wrap and refrigerated them. The lettuce tub grew fantastically well, but I didn’t like the flavor of the greens therein. It became apparent that we fertilized abundantly when the little finger carrots grew to giant size, and developed tough, flavorless cores. Most of the beans came on at once, and we soon got sick of them – and then they were done.
On the side of success, we ate beets for numerous dinners, and pickled the rest. I did make some bread & butter pickles from the cukes. I grew enough cilantro to freeze for winter. I discovered bean seed for French, baby filet type beans that I really liked! We ate zucchini until we couldn’t any more, gave some away, and froze some for bread in the winter. We have a bunch of peppers that we soon can harvest, and I am extraordinarily proud of the 10 Sugar Baby pumpkins that grew despite their late, late planting.
I would say that we had a 60/40 ratio of failure to success.
Right now, I can’t wait to pull all the stuff out and call it quits for the season.
But, you know I’ll do it again next year…because we’re farmers, and you know our motto: “There’s always next year…”
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The last two weeks have been out of the ordinary for me, and for my family.
And we are very fond of ordinary, so it’s been a bit of a stress.
My mom had both of her knee joints replaced – at the same time! Two major surgeries in one day, as the nurses remind her.
She’s one tough lady…and her recovery has been nothing short of amazing to this point. So we are very thankful, and happy that this upset in our ordinary days will bring a happier kind of ordinary to her.
But I have to be honest and say that I don’t like taking care of my parents…
BECAUSE IT MEANS THEY NEED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF.
I shall euphemistically state here that I have been wrestling with God about change, aging, human frailties and suffering, and sacrifice…
The truth is that I have a bad attitude about God upsetting my safe little world where Mom & Dad are still the Rocks you figure are in the background, ready to help with your crises. I see now that the tables are turning, and I need to be at the ready for troubles that come to them.
I’m not strong enough to be the grown-up…or at least, I don’t want to be one, and carry the load…it scares me!
I don’t want to see my mom weak and confused or my dad teary over his beloved’s pain. I don’t want to lift mom’s legs into bed, or remind her that she needs to keep drinking water so she doesn’t dehydrate. I don’t want to follow her walker ready to catch her should she fall…
But I did…and I can do it, God helping me. He’s the Strong One, THE Rock we all need to face the crises, the suffering and sacrifices that come along the way.
And more will come; I know it’s true. And hopefully, next time my heart will be ready to lean on THE Rock in confidence, instead of arguing with Him about why we are there.
Oh fickle me…
Oh Faithful God, thank goodness that You love me.