Am I Growing?

This morning Little Girl came up to me and asked, "Am I growing?"

Little Girl is the littlest person in our immediate family. She is quite slender, though she's tall for her age. At just less than 4 years old, she's 3', 5.5" (by my measurement 2 minutes ago), and weighs 37 lbs. Compared to other kids her age, she's not small. She has very narrow shoulders and delicate little fingers (I love those little fingers!!). She's quite a bit bigger than her cousin who is 4 months older than her, but Les is a pip-squeak, and always has been.

Little Girl's perception is always going to be tainted by comparing herself to her big sister. Big Girl is big. She's always been big. She was born big, and she has continued to be big. She's over 4', 1" tall and weighs just over 50 lbs. For a 6-year-old, that's BIG. One day, walking to school, we happened to meet up with a little girl from Big Girl's class, Audrey, and walked the rest of the way with her and her big brother and big sister. The brother, a second grader, was quite a bit smaller than my Big Girl, and the sister wasn't all that much bigger, and she's a 5th grader. Although, for the record, my Little Girl is probably bigger than Audrey. Still, my Big Girl is often mistaken for older than she is, just because she's so big. And then when she talks, and uses her vast vocabulary, or reads aloud, it can be falsely confirmed in the mind of whoever is mistaking her for being a couple years older than she is.

Little Girl is growing. She'll probably never catch up with her sister, but she's growing all the same. I think it's funny that she's thinking about it enough to come ask.

Today the song in my head is another Cake ditty, "Italian Leather Sofa."

Mrs. Handy Woman Conquers Kitchen Sink!

As you have probably noticed by the projects I undertake, I am not afraid of doing many things around the house. I like solving problems, practical problems, the solutions to which make my life better. When the drain in my bathroom sink was too slow to be called a drain, however, I was a bit timid to tackle that by myself. After watching my dad do it nearly a year ago, I realized it wasn't the scary task I had imagined. So when the current problem came up, I courageously dove in to get to the bottom of it.

We have lived in our house for about 15 months. During the last few of those months, an odor has been growing in intensity. Hubby and I traced it to the kitchen sink. In the last couple weeks, his solution was to put the drain cap in the sink and leave it there continually. This was quite less than a satisfactory solution in my book. It seemed like that side of the sink was always about an inch deep in standing water. And then pulling the plug out was disgusting and difficult. And it made the smell worse.

Tonight I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get to the bottom of it, if it was the last thing I did (plumbing-wise). (I'm speaking in terms of "tonight" because it's 3:45 AM, and it sure feels like night to me! I'll get to the insomnia part of the story later, I promise.)

I had a sink full of dishes that weren't helping the room to smell any rosier, so I took care of all of that first, while I knew I had a working sink.

After the dishes were done, and Hubby got home from church, it was time to dismantle the underside of the kitchen sink. I thought for sure there had to be a horrid mess in the trap (the bend in the pipe), so I started by taking that off. Surprisingly, it was nearly clean, except for a tiny little mess at one end of the pipe.

The next pipe up from that one was where the garbage disposal met up with the drain. I took that piece off, and it was clean, except for where the garbage disposal pipe met in. Aha, here's the culprit, I thought. (Hubby was watching me take things apart this whole time. He also looked down the drain with the flashlight. He's not very handy.) I was a little afraid of taking that pipe off that connected the garbage disposal to the drain. It looked harder to undo than the rest. It has a metal collar on it with a metal screw, and the rest just have PVC parts that screw on, like a nut (I don't know what things are called). I tried to get that metal screw to turn, but I couldn't. Thankfully Hubby got it loose.

That was the problem. That nasty pipe was all black inside. Imagine an odor somewhere in the neighborhood of what it smells like when you leave your wet clothes in the washer too long, crossed with dirt, crossed with... I don't know what, but something nasty, and that's what it smelled like.

I didn't want to touch it, so I didn't really. I put all the pipes I took off in a big basin with bleach-water and let it sit. My plan was to let it sit overnight, and put everything back together in the morning. I went to bed.

I think I may have slept for a little while, but I couldn't help waking up and being paranoid that someone (I) was going to come downstairs in the morning and turn on the water at the kitchen and make a huge mess before things were put back together. And there was also the fear that once I put everything back together it was going to leak all over the place, because I'd do it wrong.

So at 2:24, I went downstairs to put my sink back together. Before I did that, though, I got out my under-the-sink toothbrush, which has been relegated to the nastiest of cleaning tasks, and cleaned out the nasty pipe. It came clean rather easily after sitting in bleach water for over 4 hours. I got the rest of the pipes sparkling and put them all back together. I got the flashlight under the sink and turned the water on, looking for leaks, and there were NONE! Yippee!! Then I poured the bleach-water down the garbage disposal side of the sink, and ran it with some ice cubes, which is supposed to help clean it out. That all worked too, with no leaks. SUCCESS!!!

The whole house smells like chlorine bleach, which is WAY better than the other odor. But it's still not right, you know?

Then I went back to bed at 2:42. And I haven't been back to sleep since.

Insomnia... ain't it great?

And this whole time laying in bed, I've been hearing, "Let Me Go," by Cake, playing in my head. (If you're not familiar with Guitar Hero, you may get a kick out of this video. Cake hasn't made their own video for this song, or if they have, I couldn't find it on YouTube. The only other one I found was an amateur job, and I didn't want to subject you all to that.)

Scrapbook

I have been a scrapbooker since 2002, before my Big Girl was born. When I was pregnant with her, I started her book. Before she was born, there were already a half-dozen pages in her book: about her dad and me, a family tree page, baby shower pages, etc. When she was a tiny baby, I actually kept up with her book pretty well. She was a doll baby, a good sleeper, and let me spend quite a lot of time on my new hobby. The first 6 months of her life overfilled the 12" x 12" Creative Memories baby book. So there are 2 volumes for Big Girl's first year.

As Big Girl got older, it was harder and harder to keep up with the scrapbooks. I had less time to do it with a toddler to chase, plus there were other things going on in my life that took my attention away from the things I enjoyed.

Along came Little Girl in 2005, and I knew there was no way I'd be able to do for her what I had done for her sister. (To try and make up for that, I made a cross-stitch thing that hangs on her wall, which is something I didn't do for Big Girl.) But I did try my best to keep it up.

During that time I started transitioning to digital scrapbooking, which is much easier in some ways. You can do the work on the computer, and print however many copies you want of the end result with no extra work at all. I made digital books for grandparents as Christmas presents. If I hadn't had all the supplies and books, and paper and such at that point, I'd have gone digital completely at that point.

And then tragedy struck my scrapbooking world.

In November of 2006, my hard drive crashed. The last backup we had was from early December of 2005. I lost pictures of Little Girl's first Christmas, first birthday, first steps, all the funny things she did between the ages of 9 months to 19 months. All gone. I was devastated. It was like our house burned down, but none of the replaceable things were lost.

(We tried everything to recover the data. After sending it off to a company that does data recovery, we were told that they'd have to microscopically extract 1's and 0's to get anything off the plates.)

I was completely demoralized. Why bother making a scrapbook that can never be complete? Why take pictures if they'll get wiped off the hard drive in a moment?

(Since then, we back up both computers to en external hard drive on a monthly basis at the least. We have e-mail reminders set up to help us keep on that schedule.)

In the last 3 years, I have been to about 3 scrapbook nights. Before this past Friday night, I know it had been at least 18 months since I had even seen my scrapbooks. (I'll give myself a little break on this last year - we moved, and I've had lots of other projects on my plate.)

Thankfully, after over 2 years since the tragic event, I got the bug to work on the scrapbooks again. I know in the end I'll be glad to have whatever I can pull together for Little Girl's book, rather than nothing, or a half done book. Since Friday night, I brought my stuff home, and got it all out, and cranked out 14 pages. I finally used up all the pictures I had printed from eons ago.

In Little Girls' book, she's 6 months old. She'll be 4 years old in less than 2 months. And in Big Girl's book, she's nearly 3 years old. She's nearing 6 and a half in real life. I'm not quite to the gap in my pictures yet. I'm really dreading that still, but I know I'll press through it. What's done is done. The past is the past. I am accepting that and moving on.

The cool thing now is that I've gone through the pictures I had printed, so I can either print more pictures and go on as before, or go digital. I think I'm going to do a little of both. Once I finish Big Girl's third year, her books will be digital from then on. I may go digital with Little Girl's books now. I can do some nice things with 8" x 8" books. Hubby would probably rather I go digital. There's no mess...

Last night I finished my last scrapbook page at 12:15 AM, and then I packed everything up and put it all away in the closet, which took another 30-40 minutes. I didn't get to bed until so very late... I'm really paying for it today. At least the work is done and the mess is gone.

The song in my head right now, for no apparent reason, is The Beatles', "Another Girl."

Is anybody out there?

Early on in my blogging life, I knew I had some readers because some of my readers left comments. However, in the last several months, no one has commented, and I really feel like I'm talking to myself out here. While some of my posts are just for me, I'd like to know if there's anyone out there. So for this experiment, please leave me a comment if you read this post. It doesn't have to be much, just let me know you're there. An emoticon would suffice!

THANKS in advance! I appreciate your cooperation.

:-)

My Pawpaw

I've been waiting for this post all week. Today is the second anniversary of Pawpaw's passing. It still makes me very sad to think about him, his life and his death. He left us much too suddenly. He was a farmer, worked hard his whole life. He grew peanuts, corn, hay and raised cattle. I'll never forget the roughness of his hands.

He always said I was his worst granddaughter. I was. I was also his best granddaughter. I have a brother, and my aunt has 2 sons, so among his 4 grandkids, I'm the ONLY granddaughter.

He went to the doctor on January 10th, 2007 and was told there to go straight to the hospital. Of course my Pawpaw didn't do that. He first went to the farm to give instructions to his hired hand, Lewis, and my uncle Wayne, his only son who worked the farm with him. Then he went to Charlie's, a local greasy spoon, to have dinner and talk to people. He didn't tell anyone where he was going later. He never did want to burden anybody with his problems.

He went to the hospital that night, it was a Wednesday. During the night, the first night he was in the hospital, his heart stopped. Had he not gone in when he did, he'd have died that night. The next day, they put in a pacemaker. The following Monday he had quadruple bypass surgery. He came through all the surgeries like a champ. He was doing quite well.

He was still in the hospital, recovering, when he aspirated on some soup (it went down the "wrong pipe" and into his lungs). That happened on a Friday, the week of the bypass surgery. It immediately turned into pneumonia. They intubated him and put him on a respirator. They tried unsuccessfully to extubate several times over the next few days. On the following Tuesday, January 23, his organs failed and he died. From working the farm to dead in 13 days.

In WW II, Pawpaw was a marine. He served at Iwo Jima, and got a Purple Heart. As they landed at Iwo Jima, his transport went to the wrong place on the beach. After he and another guy were out and on their way, storming the beach, the transport pulled back to go the right spot. Pawpaw and his buddy spent the night in a crater, deep in Japanese territory. I think that's when Pawpaw was wounded. He was shot in the shoulder, if I remember correctly. A few days later, when they were going around to all the divisions and squadrons and such to see who was still alive, they called his name and a buddy spoke up, "He's gone," meaning to the hospital ship. The person taking the head count marked him down as dead. The family was issued a death certificate the following September. He used to get it out and show it to us (pictured left). To this day, when I see the numbers of dead and wounded from Iwo Jima, I don't know in which category they counted him. (I'm reading an American history book, and just came across those numbers and had a teary "moment" looking at the numbers of wounded. Only later did I realize that he was counted as dead! Who knows whether they have gone back and revised the numbers...)

One of the lighter moments at Pawpaw's funeral was during one of the eulogies when the speaker said that he had finally "lived up to his press." Everyone knew the Iwo Jima and death certificate story.

I used to write letters to Pawpaw. He'd even write me back sometimes. I wrote one to him in the weeks before he died that he never got to read. I put it in the inside breast pocket of his coat before the casket was closed.

I can't help but ache, I miss him so much. And now, even 2 years later, the grief still feels so fresh.

I am comforted that I know I will see him again in heaven. I know he's there. And I wouldn't want him to leave that to come and be here with me, but somehow I know that if he could, he would because he loved me so much.

"People are friendly, if you just talk to 'em."

My Pawpaw used to say that. He was the friendliest man ever. He'd talk to anybody.

Today was my day off from Little Girl. I was out running errands, and I took my Chick-fil-a calendar coupon for some free Breakfast Minis in to grab a quick bite in between stops. While I was at the counter, an older gentleman, probably in his 70's, started talking to me. I made some polite conversation until my food came, then I went and sat down at a table to eat my food alone. I sat there thinking about the man, wondering if it would be wise to talk to him more or if I should keep my distance. At one point during my meal, I got up to get napkins, and he noticed me and remarked that I was sitting by myself. I went back to my food. On my way out, I saw him sitting by himself, eating his food. I then sat down and started talking to him. He was very friendly.

The whole time, I kept thinking of my Pawpaw. This Friday it will be two years since he passed away.

The Mystery of "Horton Hears a Who"

Most people know that "Horton Hears a Who" is not a mystery. We had our own mystery surrounding the copy of the famed Dr. Seuss book checked out from the school library by Big Girl.

She checked it out in December, and it was due January 5th.

Ever since Big Girl started Kindergarten, and has had somewhat independent library privileges, I have been nervous about her ability to keep track of, take care of and return library books. I know that at the end of the year, if there are overdue books, we'll be on the hook for the money to replace them. While it may not really be expensive, it's also the principle of taking care of things that concerns me. Big Girl has not really demonstrated conscientiousness in keeping her things protected, put away, etc.

This week an overdue notice came home in Big Girl's take-home folder for "Horton Hears a Who." I scoured the upstairs, looking through Big Girl's room and her vast collection of books. I looked everywhere downstairs, hoping that it slipped behind the couch or something. No luck. I asked Big Girl, and she said she took it back to the library.

What am I to believe?

Thursday, on their way to school, as Hubby walked Big Girl to school, he probed her about the book situation. She continued to say that she returned it to the library. When he asked her where she put it, she said she put it back on the shelf with the other Dr. Seuss books.

Today I had my mother verify her story (it's a teacher work day, and my mom teaches at Big Girl's school). Sure enough, it was there! The book has now been returned in the computer, and we're no longer on the hook for the overdue book!

Now I just need to take Big Girl to the library on Tuesday and show her to use the slot!