Yes, I said roadkill

One summer, when I was 10 years old, my dad spent the summer running the mail in the small AZ town where my grandparents lived. It was about 3 hours from our house so he would stay with Grandma and come home every 2 weeks.

My siblings and I would take turns going with him and staying the two weeks with Dad and my grandparents. We thought it was fun. We had cousins to play with. Time alone with Dad. Loving from the grandparents. It was great.

There were a lot of great memories that summer: beating my sister in several running races, watching Mary Lou Retton win her gold medals, delivering mail with Dad, watching Grandma and Grandpa dance with each other in the kitchen. Memories indeed.

One memory I have, though, has always been quite disturbing.

On our drive to Grandma's house we hit a rabbit. They kept jumping out onto the road, and this one apparently had a suicide wish. He was unavoidable; dead for sure.

I was a little sad, but soon forgot about the little critter.

We got to Grandma's just in time for dinner. We quickly unloaded our stuff, washed up and pulled up a chair at the table. Grandma always had yummy food and that night was no different.

We started eating and my dad looked at me and said, "Do you know what you are eating?"

"Pork chops?" I asked.

"Nope. You remember that rabbit we hit tonight? That's what we are eating."

I knew that my dad was a joker, but for some reason I believed him. Totally. 100% believed him. For many years. Too many to admit.

Looking back, I know that he was either kidding or we were having rabbit. Not the roadkill rabbit, just rabbit. But I was 10 years old. Very impressionable. 

I honestly believed that my wonderful grandmother had cooked roadkill for dinner.

And my dad let me eat it!

Rude!


**Just for clarification. It wasn't really the roadkill rabbit. It wasn't! Really!!

Participating in ABC Thursday and Writer's workshop. Need a prompt. Try theirs!

So I Married a Deaf Man: Let me call you Sweetheart.

Most people have names that they call their significant other. Names they call when they want to get that person's attention.

Babe. Sweetie. Honey. Sugar buns. Butter cup.

For us, it's "Hey! You!"  In ASL it is simply flapping your hand/arm at that special someone. Occasionally throwing a sock or two.

You see, Deaf people don't really use names. You are identified once with your name or name sign. From then on out, you never really use that person's name when they are around.

There is no, "Hey, Stef! How are you?" Instead, they look at you and ask how you are. There just really is no need for a name, unless you are going to talk about someone when they aren't around. (I would never.) Then of course, by all means, use their name.

But the whole terms of endearment, lost on the Deaf community. Or at least lost in translation.


English: Babe.
ASL: "flap."

English: Sweetheart. 
ASL: "Flap flap."

English: Hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin'-love.
ASL:(two arms) "Flapidy-Flap."

When Hubs and I are emailling or texting, we include those types of exchanges: Honey, Babe, Punk. But that is the extent of our tender references.

Hubs, however, doesn't completely understand that some terms of endearment are reserved only for your spouse. Or at least he didn't at first.

We have a really good hearing friend in AZ. I worked with her almost everyday and she worked with Hubs quite a bit. We love her mucho.

Well, there were a few times when Hubs would call her up and say, "Hey, Babe. It's me Hubs." He did this several times that I know of and I am sure a few more times that I don't. Totally harmless, but also totally awkward.

I wasn't upset. It actually made me laugh. I am not sure what she thought, but I just had to explain to him that that endearment was not meant for other women, regardless of how close we were to them.

I was his Babe.

His one and only flap.

The sky? Falling?

A giant meteor is headed toward Earth. What do you do with the last day of your life?

 I will tell you what I won't be doing:

I will not be making my bed. Just like every other day. Don't judge. Not a good idea, seeing as you are probably going to be meeting your maker in the pretend tomorrow too. Nope, no bed making.

I will not be sending my kids to school. And I will not be calling the school...on second thought, I may. "Yes, my three children will not be coming into school seeing as it is their last day on Earth. Please excuse their absence."

You can bet I will not be cleaning my house. That would just be a waste of time. Especially with the kids around. Plus, there's no telling the damage that a meteor can do to my vacuum job, so why even try?

I will not be throwing one to five loads of laundry in the wash...for obvious reasons. Who cares if you are wearing dirty underwear? I mean, really. And what are people doing looking in other people's underwear in the first place. That's just weird.

There will be no grocery shopping. I hate doing that in the first place. I hate doing that in the second place. I hate doing it in any place, actually. Why, then, would I do it on my last day on earth? I don't care if they are giving food away for free. So not going there.

I will not worry about finishing this book or that one because no ending could be as good and as interesting as my ending is going to be.

 I will be:

Waking up early so I can hang out with Hubs. Without interruption. I can't imagine any other person I would rather be with. He is pretty amazing. Good thing I believe in eternity.

Playing with my kids. Really playing. I'm talking get down in the mud with them. Literally. Make the best tent ever!! Wii games. All day. Talking, reading, praying, playing. Hugging, kissing, tickling. Expressing love in every language possible.

I will probably send a prayer or two to the heavens to let us die with as little pain as possible and let my kids die first. I don't want them to have to know what life is like without me. That would be horrible. Life without me. Not having someone to take care of you and to tell you all will be okay.

I will probably read a scripture or two. Not to try and prove that I am worthy, but rather for peace and comfort and understanding.

Could this really happen? A meteor falling to the earth? Yes. Do I think it will happen? No. But time is precious and fleeting. We should grab each moment and focus our time on those things that are most important.

Live each day like it was the last.

Except you probably should wear clean underwear.

I'm just saying.

What would you do?

Spring???

Spring weather seems to be upon us.

Warm days and cool nights. Soccer games and allergies. Really, really strong wind.

Check. Check. Check.

Shorts...

Check

Short sleeved shirts...

Check

Winter trapping hat...

Check.

Snow boots...

Check.

Hubs asked, "Are you really going to let him go to school like that?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

You only live once. 

Welcome Spring!!

X-cuse me for sleeping

In wanting to participate in Mama Kat's writer's workshop, I made the mistake of asking Hubs what were some of the things I did that made him crazy.

I could only think of two possible things that bugged him. I am that good of a wife. Cough...cough...ahem.

He made me a list. A list. Meaning more than one.  Brutal honesty, I tell ya.

Two of the things I expected.

First, I tend to leave a trail of messiness when I cook. He likes it better if I clean-as-I-go. But I don't do that. I know this drives him crazy, but I think he should just enjoy the treat and to heck with the mess.

I know it drives him crazy when I invite family to come stay with us without telling him. In my defense, I don't always invite them. They just come. That's what families do. Or at least that is what my family does. Also in my defense, I really honestly do forget these things. I would tell him if I remembered.

I knew these bugged him.

But it was the thing that was on the top of the list that made my eyes pop out and my jaw hit the floor.

"It makes me crazy when you lie on the bed doing nothing."

Huh? When do I ever lie on the bed doing nothing? Oh that's right. I think most people call that sleeping. Something that I do far too little of. I seriously couldn't believe he said that. I am not a Hubs basher, and Hubs is usually really great. And he has never voluntarily shared this annoyance with me.

But really?

I am a mother of 5 young children. That in itself is a full time job. Add to that that I work from 5pm-midnight 5 nights a week. I come home, change and settle into bed by 1am. On a good night I get 6 hours of sleep. However, with 5 children there aren't many good nights.  Most nights I get 5 hours of totally interrupted sleep.

Hubs, on a really bad night gets 6 hours. Most nights he gets 8+.

I'm totally not complaining. If I tell him I need a nap, he is always obliging. I get a nap probably 2 days a week. All this time I thought he was being so nice. Come to find out it makes him crazy.

Me sleeping makes him crazy?

I should never have asked. Ignorance is bliss.

Xcuse me while I go lie on the bed and do nothing.

Also joining Jen's X week of ABC Thursdays.

So I Married a Deaf Man: with benefits

I knew when I got married that life wasn't going to be "normal." Ours was going to be different for sure with a few extra challenges.

I also knew he is worth every single one.

But what I didn't know was that there were some hidden benefits. Perks, if you will.

Like discount skiing. In Utah, when we would go skiing, Hubs could get our all day tickets for $15. Sweet deal, if you love to ski. I don't, remember. But he does, and cheaper is always better.

Front row seating. We may have to fight for an interpreter, but once we have that, we usually get front row seating. Church, seminars, conferences, performances, etc. It's almost like we are V.I.P.'s. What am I saying? We are VIP's, only not everyone knows it.

I could list more, but then I wouldn't have any more installments for this series and half my followers would leave. You wouldn't really leave me, would you? Don't answer that.

This past week I learned of yet another bonus from being married to a Deaf man:

The Golden Ticket.

Okay, technically it is called a Golden Pass, but it sure feels like a Golden Ticket.

As many of you know, this last week was our Spring Break and we went to a few places in our state that were pretty amazing. Some of which were national monuments.

Me, being the planner that I am not I of course had everything ready. Food: check. Luggage: check. Kids: check, check, check, check, check. You can imagine my surprise when we pulled up to the monument we saw that we needed to pay. How did I not know this? Duh! Hello!

"No problem," Hubs says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. The Golden Pass. He hands it over to the ranger, who smiles and waves us on.

We paid nothing. Nada. Zilch. Golden indeed.

This happened not once but twice. I forget the money. He pulls out the ticket.Voila!

Apparently the government issues these Golden Passes to individuals who have a permanent disability. Why? I don't know. Maybe they feel that people with disabilities aren't able to entirely enjoy these places as much as a person without a disability? I can see that. More so if they are blind or in a wheelchair.

Not so much if you are Deaf. I don't know of many national monuments you can visit that require you to hear to fully enjoy it. But whatever.

We'll take the Golden Ticket whenever we can.


Do you think forgetfulness is a permanent disability?

Roughing it....

When my kids wake up in the middle of the night I let them sleep on my floor.

I am a nice mom that way.

I have a pillow and blanket that belongs under my bed. If you are sick, if you have a bad dream, if you pee the bed, you are perfectly welcome to sleep on that blanket, on the floor, next to my bed.

We've tried the "crawl into bed with me" routine. I'm exhausted enough that I rarely even feel my kids sneak in. Hubs, however, is a little more sensitive to the movement and kicking. It probably has something to do with the fact that the kids put their heads on my pillow or my back, leaving their kicking for their father.

Because I love Hubs and want to avoid his grumpiness the next morning want to please him every way possible I came up with the "pull out bed minus the mattress" idea. It's worked great.

Until last night.

Yesterday, against our better judgment, we let our 2 year old take a much too long nap. Because of this, he wouldn't sleep last night. He woke from his nap at 7:45pm. Finally, around 12:30am, he went down again, but I had to lay by him. In his bed. His ever so small toddler bed.

Finally asleep! I flopped out of his bed and tiptoed into my bathroom to get ready for my own slumber. Not even 5 minutes later he comes walking into my room. Sighhhhhhhh.

Seems he would only sleep if I was laying by him. I don't know if you know this, but toddler beds are not made for mommies. And definitely not for mommies and toddlers. Needless to say, I was not going back there.

Out came the blanket and pillow from beneath my bed. To the floor we went. The hard floor. Camping in my own room. Next to my own bed.  

About 4am I was woken up by my 6 year, climbing onto the floor next to me. There we were, all three of us, crowded on the hard floor next to my bed while Hubs slept. In our bed.

All by himself.

I think next time, I may just kick Hubs out of the bed and let him sleep on the hard floor seeing as he is the only one that has a problem sleeping with kids.

What do you think?