Enjoying....

Family visiting

Late nights and lots of laughter

Flannel sheets warmed before I get in

Underdog teams winning

Finished projects

Unexpected phone calls

Repaired laptop, now running good!

My Baby Boy is Home

Our oldest son, Roy, is a fisherman...not a "grab your pole and head to the pond for the afternoon" type fisherman, but the get on the ship and don't get off for 3-4-5 months type fisherman. His ship arrived in port this past weekend, last night we were finally able to talk with him...it is always good to hear about the latest antics of 500 people stuck on a ship out in the middle of the Bering Sea for months on end, but I love to hear about his reunion with his wife and 2 young children. Instead of them heading back to their home (90 minutes from the shipyard) they usually spend the first couple of days as a family holed up in a motel~just the 4 of them, catching up before they make themselves available to others.
Our grandson, JJ(Jason), is 3 years old and what a card he is...and a charmer to boot!!! We don't get to see JJ and his 4 yr old sister, Maddie(Madelyn), very often because they live so far away, but we do spend an incrediable amount of time talking to them on the phone. So...last night, after I spoke with Roy for a while JJ was insisting that he get to talk to me. OK, JJ gets on the phone and says, in his sweet precious little 3 year old voice, "Grandma, your baby boy is at my home." ??? Huh??? What was he trying to tell me, I didn't get it. "My baby is home?" "No, grandma, your baby boy is at my home." This went on for a few minutes and soon Roy and Naomi were on the other end of the conversation trying to figure out what JJ meant, and Ed and I were trying to figure it out as well. The more we worked at understanding him the funnier he seemed to think it was, but he stuck with it until we figured it out!

All of the sudden I remembered a conversation JJ and I had back in September, shortly after Roy had arrived home from a 5 month trip. I asked JJ what his favorite part about having daddy come home was and he said (in his then 2.5 yr old voice) "wrestling" to which I told him to please be careful with my baby boy. It took a while but I worked hard trying to explain to him that baby boys grow up and become daddy's, trying to get him to understand that his daddy was my baby boy. Oh good grief, I might as well have been telling him that his sister was a monkey...that would have been a bit easier to convince him of, I am sure! Now...7 months later he is telling ME that my baby boy is home!
As soon as I realized what he was saying I just cracked up!! That little guy had stored that info and saved it up...then when his daddy gets off the ship the next time, 7 months later, he pulls it out of his memory and teases me with it!!

My oldest baby boy and His baby boy

Have I mentioned I love being a grandma??

What's in a Name?? A Lot!

Lots of things going on at our house and in our lives right now, not ready to share much of it until things settle down a bit...but when my mind is full of the stress of immediate life I like to "run away", at least in my mind...you know, if you ignore it (whatever "it" maybe) it will go away...hey let me live in my fantasy for a while...please.

So...today my trip down memory lane took me back to my funny dad! Oh how he loved his grandbabies and great grandbabies. As each baby was born he would send flowers to the momma with a note stating "Good job, love dad" I kept both cards that were attached to the flowers I recieved. He would get himself into a chair and then ask to have a baby brought to him...as long as the baby was happy he would sit for the longest time with that precious children craddled in his strong and safe arms, one proud grandfather!! I will never forget seeing him hold my babies for the first time. Being the youngest of 5 I had watched him hold many grandbabies before my children were born, I knew my time would come...and I knew it would be a memory for me to treasure forever, and it has.

My dad had a way of nick-naming his kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. Those nicknames stuck with each person, no matter how old one was, no matter what or who was around...once you were named...there was no going back. Sadly I can't remember everyone's nickname...but here are a few:

I was always known by Hamilnut. (my maiden name is Hamilton) Do you think I should have asked why? It didn't matter, that was what I was and that was the way it was...
Our oldest son, Roy was known by "Little Roy" Even when he was all grown up and out on his own!
Our youngest son, Ryan was known by "Rowdy"...sometimes "Little Rowdy"
My brother Gary, I always remember daddy calling him "Buddy"
Brother Gary's youngest son, "Hard Head" and his daughter "Pumpernickle"
My older brother's daughter was always "Traci-Roo"
My sister's daughter, Mandy, was known as "Tuffer", her son, "AJ" and Mandy's daughter "Macs"

I know I have missed waaay too many nicknames...daddy was so creative that no one missed out on getting a special ID...If I remember any, I will add them...and if anyone is reading this and remembers one or two, please speak up.

Our oldest son is named after both of his grandfathers, we took both of these great men's middle names and named our first born, Roy (after my father) Davies (after my father-in-law).

Please Pray

Bobby, a young husband and father of 2 little ones has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Please pray for Bobby and his loved ones as they walk through this. Bobby is a friend of our son, this has hit him very hard.

The Smell of Cinnamon Always Reminds Me of My Dad

One winter, while visiting my parents everyone piled into our van and off went to the farm to visit my sister and her family. It was about a 45 minute drive to the farm and I was excited to see my sister since it had been a while since I had seen her or her family.

A visit to the farm always promised excitement in one form or another, from feeding the pigs to seeing the new baby calves to steering clear of the peacocks (they are mean!!!) to chasing an escaped bull down the canal bank.

This particular trip was a quick visit for dinner and catching up. It was winter so the kids stayed in the house, the guys were undoubtedly planted in front of the TV watching a game ...just an aside, my brother-in-law is the most hilarious person to watch during a game, he cracks me up!….anyway….the women were probably in the dining room or kitchen, yakking away. We enjoyed our visit and then it was time to leave.

None of that has anything to do with the smell of cinnamon or my dad...but does tell you why we were all in the van together….so, on with my story….

We were returning to our own home the next morning and daddy decided we needed to have cinnamon rolls with our breakfast, he insisted he was thinking of the boys, of course. Knowing that we would need to get packed up and on the road early for our 8 hr drive, we stopped at the store just a few miles from my sisters house, picked up a couple of containers of Pillsbury refrigerator cinnamon rolls along with a couple of other items. Back into the van, and continuing on with the 45 minute drive back to my parents.

It was cold out, snowy no-doubt. Ed turned the heater up, we bundled into our coats and put on our gloves knowing that daddy had built a nice fire before we left and the house would be warm when we got back to my parents house.

POP! “What was that?” “Sounded like the tire blew.” “Doesn’t feel like the tire blew.” “Maybe that truck ahead of us kicked a rock up.” “Didn’t sound like a rock.” And so the conversation went. No one had an answer, but we all had an explanation for the loud pop we heard. It was dark out and there was no place to pull over to see what might have caused that loud pop.

Less than 5 minutes later my dad said he was so hungry for cinnamon rolls he could almost smell them. A few minutes later we ALL could smell them...Then it dawned on momma...when she got into the van after going to the store she had put the grocery bag on the floor of the van at her feet, right in front of the heater...which had heated up the cinnamon rolls causing them to expand and explode out of their containers.

HILARIOUS

The smell of cinnamon always reminds me of my daddy and today it made me miss him so much!

Blessings in My Days

Blooming bulbs giving new color

Stormy weather ~ High winds and wild surf

Longer days

My Creative Mind (aka my sewingroom)

Time alone

Unexpected phone call from a friend

Quiet mornings

Busy evenings

A good nights sleep