Welcome to the Passenger Side

Since 1993, our second Christmas together and our first one in Texas, Jeff and I have been taking road trips yearly. From newlyweds with no kids to married 17 years with a 5 and a 7 year old--- nothing even faintly reminds me of our trips from the decade of the 90’s be- bopping down the road listening to Steven Curtis Chapman’s CD Signs of Life, sleeping whenever we wanted and having not a clue how wonderful a Starbucks would taste.
We make this 12-15 hour trip (depending on our southeastern destination) twice, sometimes three times a year, so, with kids, we have driven it about twenty times. We’ve driven all night, we’ve driven all day, and on a few occasions we’ve taken two days to do it. Ideas have shifted from not having to come up with any ideas, to calculating how many diapers, changes of clothes, toys, formula and bottles we’d need on the road and presently, to deciding if I have enough tiny, gender/age appropriate, car friendly activities stuffed into their Steralite road trip totes.

Of the thousands of miles spent rolling down I-20, there are a few trips that stand out in particular—the summer I was armed with antibacterial wipes in my back pocket when Julia was newly potty trained, the one when we lost a Croc at the Chevron, the humbling trip I arrived at the beach barely able to sit because I had contorted my back in ways never meant for a human being, the pre-kids ride involving a box cutter and lots of blood, the time we sneaked out of the beach house at 3 a.m. and headed home because Jeff had a bad case of insomnia, the trip to Soperton for Christmas when Brighton wasn’t even 2 months old and my Mom and my Grandmother, Julia, welcoming him into my childhood home, the glorious year we saw the familiar round green and black sign for the first time off I-20, the Christmas we figured out the big Steralite totes were the best thing ever for packing, the year we strapped an Atlanta garage sale treadmill to the top of our car, the time we had a Blizzard before 10 am, the beach trip we had a blow out on the I-10 bridge, the trek to the family reunion when I learned that diapers don’t soak up infinite amounts of you know what, and the most useful fact finding trip was the summer I found out what a handy little thing a Coke bottle is for little boys.

There are many pieces to making a successful road trip with kids and I am still learning them. However, I have found one critical piece that you may as well not get in the car without and that would be the person who rides in the passenger seat. This position next to the driver takes quite a remarkable person, just short of genius actually, gifted in a myriad of awe inspiring ways. First of all, the front seat passenger needs to be ambidextrous, double jointed and able to stretch like Elastigirl. This person must also be a tenacious trash gatherer, a creative nutritionist (when it comes to “exit food” as Brighton call it), an activities coordinator and a great listener since the driver seems to be so focused on the road he doesn’t hear anything else that is going on. And if that is not enough, this individual must have the ability to judge how badly someone “has to go”, not be prone to car sickness, be alert at all times making sure the driver does not get sleepy or distracted, know how to tame the digital deluge in order to keep the backseat passenger’s brains from becoming mash potatoes, and possess the amazing skill of traveling with absolutely no foot room whatsoever. Even under these strenuous demands and circumstances, there ARE the blissful moments of a road trip when you have the “brain blender” going for the back seat dwellers, an extra hot latte in the cup holder (with whip) and a Southern Living in your lap. It is then and only then, you feel that maybe mashed potato brains aren’t so tragic after all.

We just finished the first half of Road Trip #2 for the summer of 2009 and I spent most of it in the formidable passenger seat. (Pat my back.) On our way, there were two brief spells that Jeff took the spot with high hopes of a little snoozer. After playing waiter out of a Quiznos bag and then retrieving leftovers, he was trying to put in a DVD only to find Brighton’s screen not responding. Driving peacefully down the road, I watched, out of the corner of my eye, of course, my ex-defensive tackle husband turn into a contortionist attempting to make the blue screen come to life with “Sylvester and the Magic Pebble”. When his electronic skills failed him, which they RARELY do, he had to rearrange the back seat in order to make room for Brighton in the middle. No easy task, I assure you! Boosters, pillows, Quizno drinks, American Girl Samantha (our 3rd passenger who has her own suitcase), a box of books, one bag that at one time was under my feet, pretzels that ended up dumped out in the front seat where Jeff’s bottom was SUPPOSED to be! After he had their headphones synced with Julia’s screen, he untangled himself and sat down (crunch). I smiled at him and said, “Welcome to the passenger seat.”

(And before you begin picturing me hanging out the window taking pictures of road signs, there is a woman who takes a picture of EVERY road sign she passes. teresco.org)

Happy Fourth from St. George Island!

First Date

When Jeff made plans with Julia to attend Christ Chapel’s Daddy Daughter Dinner Dance, a giant void was left in Brighton’s internal continual calendar. This year Brighton clued in quickly that he would be at home with me so his need for a plan erupted. As he began forming his ideas and trying them on for size, out loud, I suggested something from his top 3 before I got trapped into something that required tokens. Just as I figured it would, when I mentioned going out to eat, the idea produced bright eyes, a big grin and visions of chips, salsa and Sprite. Perfect. Not long after his mental calendar square was filled, he had the typical little brother notion of keeping our “date” a secret from his sister, tormenting her with whispers in my ear every chance he could.

Once we got Julia all dolled up for her time with Jeff, Brighton was more than ready to crunch his first tortilla chip. With money for dinner heating up his pocket and a Tigger style step, he walked in and said, “Brighton—for two.” (I called ahead and put us under his name just so he could do this.) The hostess seated us in a two person booth facing each other. Time with just B is rare so I just sat and listened to all his words. He was flourishing in the freedom of talking to his excited heart’s content with no worries of interrupting anyone. I find his strings of thoughts intriguing. Sometimes it takes me a few minutes before I figure out why his little mind takes him in a certain direction and sometimes I realize the string has broken and he is on his way down a fresh one.

About half way through our quesadillas and fajitas, Brighton said, “I wish I could sit WITH you.” I smiled and explained how he WAS sitting with me and how the booth was made for only two and how there wasn’t room for both of us on one seat. His face suggested I was wrong. He proceeded to scoot as far over as he could to show me there was plenty of room for the two of us. He went on making his case with pleading eyes and beckoning hands. He had me. So there we were in a booth for two sitting side by side, making it work. After another quesadilla disappeared, he looked up and asked, “Can I sit in your lap?”

As I have said before, because of all his practice, he expresses himself very well. At five, he is transparent and experienced when it comes to telling you how he feels. That particular Friday night, knotted all down his strings of words were sweet expressions of love for me and thanks for things I do. Yes. More gratifying than I can communicate here. I got to be his object of affection in our two person booth. His cup was full and it all splashed out on to me. Most of his "splash" I will tuck away just for me, however, there is one I will share. “Mom, you know what’s more fun than playing the Wii? Getting to be ‘just me with just you’.” Colossal. Ginormous. H-U-G-E. Good answer. Great night.

Here are a couple of pictures of Jeff and Julia on their way out.

The Lake

The Lake ...............with friends. Need I say more??

This pair seemed to have made it in front of my lens more than anyone else! Does ANYONE wonder why??

Picture 1

Picture 2

Picture 3 The Survivor Celebrates!

This one reminded me of a picture in one of our Nursery Rhyme books-- Rub-a-Dub-Dub.

The biggest load "Big Bertha" has ever carried!

These are the ones who played the hardest and made it fun for everyone.

These are the ones who divied out Doritos, Chex Mix and Oreos, applied gobs of sunscreen to several different sizes of people (just not enough), made sure our chairs stayed in the shade, scanned the scape for slithering creatures, and laughed most of the afternoon.

Last-- This was Brighton's idea and it worked! If you look closely, you can see him WAVING at us!! Now he is telling everyone he can wakeboard.

Two Years Down

Year two complete. Good thing is Julia still likes me and I am in for another year--excited, actually. I am grateful to say, we finished 1st grade. I remember hearing a joke a while back—something like, you know you are a home schooler when someone asks you what grade your children are in and, to you, there really isn’t a clear cut answer. You find yourself thinking, “Hmmm….. she did some ___ grade work, but we haven’t started ____ that some other kids did.” That’s me. For this season, I am a home schooler and I am such a newbie. However, one thing I am beginning to figure out, as long as the Lord leads me to do this, I will always feel like a newbie because every year is so different. Once you feel you have ironed out the learning curve, it kinks up again. We will always have new material to cover and new books to read. Their minds will be constantly maturing while mine will be slowly deteriorating. Our relationships will look different at various ages. Preferences will change. Moods will swing. They will become more and more independent and I will be needed less and less. What worked for Julia may not work for Brighton. It is a constant evaluation, a moving target, and a perfect platform for lots of prayer.

The love that I have for getting to do school at home will always be for the same reason. Nothing trumps the time I have with Julia (and next year B). I believe this will be the resounding reward each year. I have memories of significant conversations that, I have to wonder, would I have ever gotten to enjoy them had I not said “yes” to this mysterious, if not strange, way of educating children? Would I know when too much is too much? Would I know she likes a challenge—even if she balks at it, even if it is more than I think she can handle? Would I know she releases stress in the purest of forms? Would I know that “time management” isn’t her strong suit? Would I be able to pick out an armful of books that I know will cause her to drop everything and begin reading immediately? Would I know that I am raising a daughter who I may one day describe as a “dreamer”? Would I know her spelling tendencies with certain sounds? Would I know that she blooms like a hibiscus in June with a little back rub and some affirming words? Would I know how much of her thoughts are consumed with her friends who don’t know Christ? Of course, I cherish all that I am learning about her and have to say, I am thankful it is me who has discovered these things and not someone else. God knew the blessing these things would be to this Mom. Furthermore, in His sovereignty, He knew that Julia needed a mother who knew her in a different sort of way.

On to more practical things, just like last year, it was the books that we enjoyed the most. There were books we read that neither one of us will ever forget. Times that I couldn’t keep reading just so I wouldn’t lose it only to look over and see the tears falling from her brown eyes. Times that we laughed at the rabbit trails of dialogue between a brother and sister- mostly because it sounded so familiar. Times I had to stop reading all together because I realized it was too much information. Times we had to set the book down and wonder at the details of the smallest creatures of God’s handiwork. Times we had to literally run out the door to pick up B, because we succumbed to “one more chapter”. Times we stopped and re-read just so we could enjoy the part one more time. Times we didn’t want the book to end because we enjoyed the family so much. This year, the reading really clicked for her. I loved walking into a room seeing Julia's hands and attention wrapped around a book of her own. I think I can safely say, if we didn’t read, I don’t think we would enjoy school at home. It is the reward of the morning for both of us after pluses, minuses, graphs, maps and 2 letter phonograms!

It seems like we took less field trips this year which is neither good nor bad but we saw Charlotte’s Web and Frog and Toad All Year Long at Casa Manana, Madeline’s Christmas at the Dallas Children’s Theatre. We spent some “Christmastime” in the 1800’s in Dallas Heritage Village experiencing a colonial atmosphere decorating the school house with paper chains, visiting the blacksmith, the print shop, the potter and the general store where the popular items were bamboo flutes and tiny clothespin dolls. We survived the Pilgrim Party with only minimal blood shed with what seemed like 100 children, but they sure did look cute in their Pilgrim and Indian attire. During Christmas break, Julia and her friends performed a casual concert for the parents. Some recited poetry or Scripture and some played newly learned pieces on the piano and miniature violins. And how could I forget, Mr. Slim Goodbody at Will Rogers! You need to see this guy dance around in his veins, organs and bones body suit----an experience you won’t forget!

I think the best thing we added this spring was nature journaling which is simply sitting, feeling, observing and recording sights, sounds, textures and smells. Both Julia and Brighton enjoyed seeing how things literally transformed around us in the short span of a month. We recorded these things in a book and drew the things we found and saw. Julia drew flowers, ferns and bugs and Brighton tended to draw rocks………..and more rocks. It became something I anticipated and I found myself doing it without Julia and Brighton a time or two.

My rookie season starts all over again this fall as we add Brighton and all his wonderful boyness to the mix. During our last couple of months of school, I tried to remind Juila daily that next year our school “twosome” would become a “threesome” and that the Lord would help us all figure out how to learn and have fun together. I am certain the learning experience will better us all if for no other reason than we will talk to our Father more- our perfect Parent and Teacher.

Home schooling was never my idea and definitely no desire I ever had until He led me to do it. Now, my enthusiasm for it is strictly God given and I thank Him often for it. I can’t imagine tackling this for any reason other than He put it on my heart in a way I couldn’t say “yes” to anything else. I don’t know how long He will ask me to do it. I don’t need to know that right now, but I do know that one day when I look back on my parenting years, this season will shine brightly in my memory.

Next year's class......

A Circle Unbroken

June 23rd, 1966

Dear Children,
This is my last desire that you children stay together on this last little earthly business of mine, loving one another better than you ever have and prepare to each meet this day with complete trust in Jesus Christ, my Savior and yours. If Daddy is left, take care of him because you know I loved him. May this bring each one of you closer to the “Cross” is my prayer for you. I’ll be waiting to see you in Heaven when the circle will never be broken.
I love every one of you.
Mother


These words were read before grace last Saturday at the Annual Speir Family Reunion. “You children” refers to Jeff’s mother, Betty and her three siblings: Lavonne, James and Sandra. As the sun hit its lunchtime place, the long awaited food was spread and all 37 of us were gathered from the four corners of the never ending Georgia yard. Uncle James got everyone’s attention and pulled a paper from his pocket. He told us about the letter written by his mother and also about the generations recorded back to the mid 1800’s so the family wouldn’t forget. As the words were read, children tried to stand still, a baby squirmed and I watched those four faces, brothers and sisters, remembering, loving, missing and honoring. They are doing it—the “stay together” part of their Mother’s letter written some four decades ago--- year by year, June by June.

Uncle Lavonne, Betty (Jeff's Mom), Aunt Sandra, Uncle James

A family reunion. Even with the bad wrap reunions get, this one has managed to survive. Personally, I like them. Where else can you see that many family members at once? On neutral territory. With lots of yummy food. A mess of cousins for playmates. All sorts of news to discover. A chance to play Smash the Egg. And lots of delicious food. (Did I mention that?) I like this get together in particular because there in the land where the tea flows sweet from the pitcher, no one asks me to “say that word again. It’s SO cute,”, the desserts are ALWAYS homemade, little girls always don something smocked or trimmed in grossgrain, the barbeque is pork and “chipped” (the right way), the cakes come in multiple layers, and other grown women, besides myself, refer to their fathers as “Daddy”. Refreshing as the scent of a magnolia bloom. However, the main reason I enjoy the Annual Speir Family Reunion is I married into a pretty neat family.

The beautifully written letter from Mrs. Florence Ethel Reese Speir, in its kind and gentle tone, tells a loud tale that has been retold in each of her children’s lives. Her prayer for salvation has been answered, they have remained close, and I know they took good care of “Daddy”. This is a sweet bunch of folks who even this weekend, went out of their way to love on me and encourage me. Even though one told me that he would “only say it once”, I won’t ever forget what he took the time to say to me. From where I stood, I heard many life giving words spoken to needy and eager ears of the younger generation. I think it is part of who this family is, therefore, we all are benefitting and learning from it.

To see these brothers and sisters together enjoying one another makes me wonder about their “Momma”-- her parenting, her prayers and her purpose of writing those priceless words. For someone who has trouble keeping things short, I appreciate the length of her “last letter” of sorts. At that point in her life, she knew what mattered. They listened, took it to heart and followed through. Because of Mrs. Speir’s desire, Julia and Brighton know most of their aunts, uncles, first, second and third cousins by name. MOST. There are a lot of them. They get the experience of being loved by a large family, seeing a family that is committed to each other but much bigger than that, witnessing brothers and sisters honoring a generation before who is waiting ever so patiently to have her “circle” unbroken again.

(The picture at the top is Mrs. Speir holding Betty (Jeff's Mom) and her brother, Lavonne at Jacksonville Beach in Florida.)



Do you really want me to explain this?






Maybe I should-- egg on head, held by a pantyhose cap. Object: to smash the egg of your opponents with rolled up newspaper.

Caroline and Julia celebrating their victory in the egg toss. A miracle.... truly. Technique? Think bowling with an egg

Spouses are in this picture-- minus one who couldn't come!

(Aunt Rachel, Barrett (Jeff's Dad), Aunt Phyllis)

Enthusiasm for the sponge relay--Lisa, were you a cheerleader in high school?



Surprised, anyone?

Jeff "schoolin' " his 11 year old cousin, Nick.



The proud winners of the egg/spoon relay - Maria and Millie (It took a soon to be Auburn graduate and a 16 year old pilot to do it, though!)



Last and truly "least", the newest member of the Speir/Webb clan. "Tucker" Congratulations, Tyler and Kimberly!

(Just want all of you Speirs to make a mental note that I did NOT misspell your name once! Proud?)

Silly Sadness

For those few deranged people who have ever thought I had some depth of character, some rich wisdom to share, this confession will certainly make that fuzzy vapor of an idea fly like sand coming off of a shaken beach towel. I had Brighton’s hair cut yesterday and now every time I look at him, I mourn. It’s gone- all 2 pounds of it. Even his new blonde highlights which had just emerged during our two weeks of swimming lessons. Granted, he needed it cut, a little. With his baseball hat pulled down low like he likes it, he was verging on a blonde imitation of Hannah Montana’s dad. Was this my intention, that his neck which hadn’t seen the sun for months be exposed and naked? Absolutely not, but his hair needed taming, sort of. Being the polite person that I am, I even told Miss Pro Cuts that I knew she was the “hair cutter” (probably not the best description) and I wasn't, but “remember that hair looks longer wet than dry, so be sure to keep it about right here,” as I traced the bottom of his eyebrow and ear. I did everything short of taking the clippers in my own hands to ensure “too short” would not be in my description and those two words are all I can think of when I see it. I know. I know. It will grow.

A silly sadness. A meaningless mourning.