Memory Lane

October has been a busy month.  Busy. busy, busy.  For the most part, it has mainly been me that is so busy.  This month, I prepared for my first ever in-person craft sale.  Our church puts on an annual event called Street of Shoppes.  Vendors from all over the area come together and sell their goods on the church grounds and the women's crafting group from the church sells the goods they spent all year working on.  It was pretty stressful for me, trying to balance my duties around the house and with the kids while working on the things I was selling.  Troy and the kids were great and sure did put up with a partial absentee mother.  

The sale was pretty good.  I had the goal of paying for the cost of my booth and making enough money for Christmas gifts for the kids.  I met my goal, so I guess it all worked out.  The most rewarding thing, however, was to see the looks on people's faces when they saw my wares.  Many of the older people smiled and commented on how they used to own sock monkeys.  One woman even said that seeing my booth took her back to her childhood.  The children's faces were equally delightful, eyes lighting up at all the colorful things.

Also at the craft sale was a room where the church was selling used toys.  Very much like a big garage sale, you can usually pick up some really great things, gently used, for a great price.  Troy took Orry through and came out with the game, Trouble.  Yeah.  You know the one.  With the clear bubble popper that holds the die and all the colorful pieces that made the best pretend fingernails.

When I saw the box, I remembered the game, but only when I saw them playing with the pieces did I remember playing the game.   And oh, my poor, poor parents.  Orry also received the game Guess Who from my parents.  That sure brought back memories.  The faces have changed.  (And what is it with there only being 5 girl characters?!  If you pick a girl you are sure to lose...just saying.)  And they added animal characters for an added challenge.  Guess Who was a favorite game of mine from summer day camp since we didn't actually own the game.  

So, to sum it all up, having kids is one great way to relive your childhood.  And I know everyone is aware of this, but I have come full circle.  And I'm sure that will continue and possibly freak me out as time goes on.  Ever on.  

And I'm sure that I have still left you wondering what we did all October.  So here it is in 5 pictures or less...

Pecan picking

Father and Child(ren) Retreat

Our own personal mouse trap

Annie has embraced the ponytail...for now

There was more done this month.  Much more.  I just forgot my camera for many of the things.  If memory serves me right we built a sandcastle, Troy got poison ivy/oak, we planted lettuce and chard, we finally identified an unknown bird, we started watching the Marvel comic movies (The Avengers, Captain American, Thor...), we saw Brave, we made costumes for Halloween, and the list goes on.  

A Wild Thing

Troy isn't home this Father's Day.  Boo!  We sure did miss him.  Maybe that's the best part about him being gone on Father's Day.  We really got a taste of life without him (sort of) and now we really know that life with him is way better.  But not to worry, we will still celebrate when he comes home!

So, instead of dwelling on the fact that my better half is missing, I'll tell you a little ditty about my own dad.

I have a lot of fond memories of my father.  My dear, kind, patient, generous father.  Let's see.  There's the time that he took me fishing and I refused to used the bathroom off the side of the boat.  He had to take me back to shore and I don't remember him once yelling at me or even rolling his eyes.  Another fond memory is riding bikes with him.  This was back in the day when safety concerns weren't as high as they are today.  No helmets.  No fancy schmancy padded bike seat with a reclining feature that's been crash tested.  It was a plastic seat attached to the back of the bike with a nylon strap across the lap.  But boy, did I sure love to get placed in there and go for a ride with the wind in my hair and my daddy's back in my face.  I also remember having "fight nights" with my dad.  He would get out a big blanket and roll us up like burritos and then, you guessed it, pull the blanket really fast thus sending us rolling across the carpet, laughing until it felt like our sides would burst.  Another favorite of "fight night" was when my dad would get on all fours and drape the blanket over his back.  He made one very ominous tunnel that he would then coax us to crawl through.  He would let us get through a couple of time, unscathed.  Then he would collapse on us and tickle us, again, until we laughed so hard we thought our sides would burst.

But my favorite memory has to be when he would read Where the Wild Things Are.  He was great at reading that book.  Maybe it was because he had it memorized for 4 years before I even came along.  I was watching and participating in a mastered work of art.  That book just lends itself to audience participation.  Oh, the terrible roars!  And I'm sure you would have thought us rabid if you were witness to the gnashing of terrible teeth.  With the rolling of terrible eyes and the showing of terrible claws, there would be no doubt in your mind where the wild things really were.  The most satisfying part of the book, in my opinion, is the last page.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the extreme surprise and pleasure of watching my father read Where the Wild Things Are to my children.  He pulled out a copy that was falling apart.  Its once crisp white pages were yellowed.  Needless to say, it had seen better days; the days of my youth.  He read them the story, of Max and his wolf suit, and their attention was rapt.  You should have heard the wild rumpus!  It sounded the same as when I was a wee one.  Much like a scene from a John Wayne movie with cowboys and Indians, I imagine.  The following morning Isaac came down the stairs wanting to hear the story again.  He was hooked.  So with a new copy in hand, my dad read to them, again, the story of the Wild Things.  Oh, joy of joys!

I'm so thankful, on this Father's Day, for my father.  Jeffery, king of all wild things.