Once again,I am having trouble logging in. I can not “like” blogs I read, can’t log in as beebeesworld , this happened everyday, sometimes it will finally start working. Something must me wrong with the connection between my new computer and the wordpress site. I have this problem over and over. it often takes 30 minutes or more for me to read a blog that has the “post” tab, so that I can try to get help. It it clears up, the problem starts again in a few days, please, someone with wordpress contacts , help me fix this issue. I am not well and writing for wordpress helps me, i enjoy reading blog, but want t write, respond, like, check my stats as well. Any help would be greatly appreciated! beebeesworld
Archive for February, 2013
The biter winds howls through the pines above us.
I walk, arms gripping my shoulders, down the hill.
There among the sharp spines of rosemary, the bare dirt,
A paperwhite has struggled through the soil.
Time passes, a few weeks later, I notice the buds of daffodills
and suddenly, it seems they are in full bloom.
With winter not wanting to say farewell, spring has forced his bitter wind away.
We live in Western North Carolina, and it seems that President Obama has fallen in love with our beautiful area and it’s tasty Barbeque. Last week President Obama made a visit to the new manufacturing plant where my son works. When the Secret Service rushed the employees though a surprise question of “Do you want to bring a guest?” and my son, caught off guard said, “I don’t guess so..” and the Secret Service had moved on before he had time to think of how much it would mean to “old Mom” to meet the President. I didn’t get to go.
My son works at Linamar, a new Canadian based plant that makes engines for various companies. Last spring, he heard about a new plant moving here that was looking for machinist. The local community college offered a course,in order to train prospective workers. My son quickly signed u for the 3-month course,applied fro the job, and since he already had an Associates Degree, he was hired the next day! When Obama chose Linamar as an example of new companies, even from other countries, beginning to take an interest in coming to the US where there were well trained workers looking for jobs, he chose Linamar as a great example of what determination to get a job , willingness to work and take classes to get the job and dedication to your career could do.
My son (with our family’s help in babysitting) made sure to take advantage of an opportunity to further his eduction,never missed a class, filled out an application and was hired quickly and has worked 6-7 days a week , 2nd shift to get his machinist job with good pay and benefits. There are opportunities out there for jobs that pay a living wage if you are willing to go back to school and possibly work something other than second shift, at least to start with. My son’s experience gives us hope in knowing that showing up a at work, having a good attitude and working hard to learn everything you can still pays off in this country.
My son appeared in the local newspaper right behind President Obama. It wasn’t a great photo of my son, but if you know him, you could tell it was him. His kindergarten-aged son got to show off a picture of his daddy with the president. My son got to shake the president’s hand, and even though he isn’t “Obama fan” like I am, he was honored to meet the current President of our country.
Our newspapers website is: http://www.citizen-times.com. His photo appeared on the front page on Thursday, February 14, 2012, if you would like to see it.
Though a politician often takes some flack for “spending tax payers money” on such trips. That has some validity. still, I think it helps to highlight the opportunity our country still has to get an education, work hard and move up in life. Most do not, have this opportunity and few ever will . I am proud of my son and thankful to have been given the good fortune of being born here and living in freedom.
Every night, I lay my head, upon your pillow, on your bed.
And I a crying, feel like dying…
If I could die, I wish I knew, if I cold really be with you?
You know I’m trying to keep from lying….
I want to know, in the morning, would I be here, you still there?
I if did not wake up in the morning, would I care? I just don’t care.
Every time this house is filled with the people you left here,
I feel I’m trying,to keep from dying.
I pretend to care or really feel that it matters that I’m here,
I’m through with crying, I feel like dying.
Where’s my heart, my wicked soul within this world I can’t control?
My soul is dead, my heart is too, they both died when I lost you.
There is a place that I still go, no one but you will ever know.
You are there and I am too, no one else, just me and you.
If we’re both dead and they are right and we are in some other life,
I don’t care, fire or ice, just so we’re here, you and I.
I close my eyes one more time, it’s over, life, it’s over, time.
I run to you, you run to me, just like that last night, it would be.
We’d go around, we’d dance and sing, spirits of a bitter spring,
Together, we will always be, death cannot take you from me.
You are with me, a child, a man, I look at you, you take my hand.
This world is sad, though skies are blue, I only need to be with you.
Childhood-is there anything I would change? That opens so many doors. Of course as a parent and grandparents, there are many philosophies, ideas, decisions that we all wish we could change. Since it is late and I am tired I will stay with one thing that I wish I could change about my childhood and one thing I wish I could change about being a mother.
I was an only child. I hated it. It was often lonely, I never really felt good about myself or happy. It wasn’t for lack of love, perhaps, I had more than I could handle. I lived next door to my grandparents, and my aunt and uncle. They had not children. We even had a “party line” telephone. You have to be pretty old to remember when two people shared one :line” and even though they had separate phone numbers, if one “person was on the phone, not only could you hear their conversation, you could not make a call of your own. Imagine being a teen sharing a phone with six adult who could listen in or pick up the phone at anytime. I have always referred to my childhood as “Life under the microscope.”
The natural wish for an only child ho hated it is to ant a big family of her own. Through many trials and difficulties, I did have a big family-4 boys and 2 girls. There are so many things that a parent wishes they had done differently when the numerous decisions of being a parent have to be made. NO! becomes an echo, of sorts. Each child is different. One approach to a problem make work well for one child and not at all for another. I always felt it was important for my teens to learn to say “No’ on their own. I would tell them, they we welcome to say, “I can’t do that, mom would kill me if she found out.”, but one day. mom or dad may not be there and they would have to have the courage to say “no” on their own. I think I did a good job with this philosophy on the big decisions, but one winter, when my 5th child,a son told me he didn’t want to play baseball on the school team, I was elated. I had been having thoughts and dreams about something happening to him elated to baseball. The thoughts and feeling really didn’t make sense. I never liked baseball, and thought that maybe it was just that I was glad I wouldn’t have to put up with the practices and games in bad weather, the schedule conflicts and such.
My son, nearly 15, did not play in spring or summer. My heart was so relieved. I actually believed God was helping me avoid some crisis when he decided not to play. Then one day right after school started, we were getting ready to leave when his friends and a father who was going to coach “fall ball” zoomed up our driveway and begged my son to go to their last practice. Out of boredom, he decide to go, it was just one game. he still liked to play, just not on an organized team.
I reluctantly said it was alright, but when he came home, he slammed down the new hat and jersey and said, Mom, I don’t want to play” and they just threw the uniform at me and said “See ya at the game.”
“Call the and tell them you aren’t playing>’ I said, reminding him that he had promised not to play.
” I can’t”. He said, his he turned to the floor, “They said they wouldn’t have enough players without me and I can’t disappoint my friends.”
I wanted so bad to tell him, “Then I will say NO for you” But I didn’t. I remembered my vow to make them learn to ay “no” on their own. I actually felt like God was telling me that I had to let him learn this lesson, he was 15, a sophomore in high school.
“It is only a few weeks I said, a tear running down my cheek. The feeling of worry kept coming back about something bad happening to him that involved baseball. I had prayed and prayed about it. i felt God had promised to keep him safe and me strong, that God had jobs for us to do, and he was with us.
On the night of October 4, 2006, my husband, younger son , my 15-year-old and his best friend prepared to go to his second game in three days. I had to hurry home from volunteering to coach a play at my younger sons school and we were running late. I quickly opened the door when i got home , and my son was standing there with his quiet sly smile. “Oh, you scared me!” I said.
We grabbed something to eat at a fast food place and hurried to the game. Twice, I almost took his picture and didn’t because this as in the day of film and I as about on my last shot. I came so close to taking his picture when he made a great double and stole third. The next player struck out. He told a friend in the dugout that h didn’t feel good, but he went on to right field, expecting not to have to do much and it was the last inning.
Before they started playing again, I heard a mom say, “Is something wrong with Andrew?” and looked out to see him holding his head. He started running to me, and I started running to him. Right as i got to him, he grabbed his chest, then threw his hands out as if to break a fall.
He landed hard on the ground, I will never forget the slow-motion scene of him falling in the dirt, hitting his nose and forehead as dust rose around him. I was screaming, ” Call 911! Call 911! A parent called out that they would as everyone crowded around my son.
He was unconscious, unresponsive. No one knew what to do, There was a fire station within sight of the park, and we were all looking for the fire truck to take a left and rush down the parking lot. They didn’t. I honestly feel the man who called 911 panicked and hung up before telling the operator that the child wasn’t hurt playing and that the fire dept. was right above us. It was 10-12 minutes before an ambulance came. A man ran us, said he was a nurse, but did nothing.
“He isn’t breathing well”. The nurse said, and I was crying “Well, can;t you do something? All he did was turn his head upward a bit. At this time,we had been taught not to do CPR if the patient was breathing-it is what i was taught, and perhaps he was as well. Finally, an ambulance came. His blood gases were very bad, as rode to the hospital in the ambulance, i could see the ambulance attendance using a defibrillator on him. I coudn’t believe it his heart had stopped.
A chaplain met us at the hospital door. My husband and the whole team we already there-before the ambulance. For an hour, we were consoled, given hope, then told his condition was very bad. When the chaplain told us to bring the family to a side room, we knew what we would hear.
“You mean he’s dead?” I sobbed, shaking,nauseous. I don’t even remember the doctors words, just some “we tried so hard” statement and the chaplain asking us if we wanted to go see him, warning us to be quiet that there were other patients in the emergency room.
The rest is a story of shock, grief and the purest of hell a mother can face. My handsome healthy 15-year-old was dead and we had no idea why. He n no sign of sickness. We later found out he had contracted “viral myocarditis” and the last play, the great hit, stealing third base. I guess his heart got out of rhythm then, because he had told several friends h didn’t feel well.
This has been a long story to tell the reader the thing I wish most i could change about being a parent. It is saying “NO”, for your child, when they don’t do it themselves. If i had, my son would likely be here, if the ambulance we could see had come, if we had already left that day his friends pulled up, wanting him to come to their “last” practice.
There will be people who are angry at me for writing this, they may make up excuses fir God, or say other ridiculous, irrelevant things. All mothers who have lost a child have heard them. My only point here is to answer the question asked by the prompt-“If you could change ONE thing…” and my answer is this, “I would not be afraid to say “NO” if that is what my heart was telling me I should do.
Please read my other blogs on Parent Heart Watch and on loosing my son.
It has been another mild winter here in the Southern Appalachians. The weather has been fickle-as it always I. Listening to the weather report is a bit like reading your horoscope. Still as I walk through my garden, through yards and fields, I have seen many blooming flowers and budding trees. I am afraid that we are heard for another year of an early spring an a late frost, which often damages some crops beyond repair.
This week, I n clumps of tiny bluets growing in my son’s yard, along with patches of small white flowers. In my own yard I ha e seen a dandelion,yellow crocus and paperwhites in full bloom. shes us when we somehow manage to skip it!My bridal veil bush has swollen buds as do many other early blooming bushes.
I don’t have many strawberries this year, my health prevented me from doing a lot of gardening, but last year, their blossoms were killed by a late frost, along with apple blossoms and many flowering scrubs.
As much as I look forward to spring, I know that mother nature expects us to have winter first and often punished.
I have a new computer, got a new external hard drive today. When I look at other readers blogs,most used to have a “Ne Post” button and a tiny photo of me with an orange star in a box, now there is nothing there on any of them, I had to go through all sorts of hoops to even get on the HELP page and get here. I never have been able to find a way to simply sign in and write, I’ve always just used the bottom on another blog page. Will someone at wordpress or a reader who can explain SIMPLY what happened and how to get to the “new post” and reader links please help me. Having a new computer is bad enough. I used Firefox Search engine and have a Windows 8 computer. Thank you so much!
We who have taught, or love children who have been taught, know this is funny! From the diary of a Pre-School Teacher:-
My five-year old students are learning to read.
Yesterday one of them pointed at a picture in a zoo book and said,
“Look at this! It’s a frickin’ elephant!”
I took a deep breath, then asked…”What did you call it?”
“It’s a frickin’ elephant! It says so on the picture!”
And so it does…
” A f r i c a n Elephant “
Hooked on phonics! Ain’t it wonderful?
Reblogged from Friday smile by Tanner-this was too cute not to pass on. Thanks for the smile.
Eight year old Tommy stuck his hand beneath the surface of the muck in the shallow pond. He ran the cool, squishy mud between his chubby fingers, delighted with its consistency, smoothness, even the lovely (for an eight year old) color of dirt.
Suddenly, he felt something hard amidst his hand full of mud. He clenched his fist tightly and brought the mud to the surface. Running his hand through the mud, sifting out the dirt, his eyes opened wide.
“This looks like the molar my brother Joe lost last week.” He thought.
According to an old paper tucked in Uncle dale’s dresser, it wasn’t Joe’s. Or where the rest of the body was.