Missing My Dad...

Does anyone remember the significance of August 1997? Most people won't remember that this is the month that Princess Diana died in a dark Paris tunnel, until they see the little sidebar on an internet website. I can't ever forget, because the day she died was the day of my dad's funeral.

My dad entered eternity on August 27, 1997. I was 21. I hadn't had enough time with my dad, but I refuse to dwell on the sadness, because I HAD a dad...a great one...and he taught me many things during those two decades. And even in his passing, he taught me some incredible lessons with eternal significance.

So here it is, 13 years since his death...and this blog is dedicated to his memory. To my dad, Oscar Allen Foster.

Dad was born in 1927, the youngest of three. His parents were poor and he grew up on a farm in Diggins, Missouri. In his veins flowed brave Cherokee blood, and his mother was one of my family's legendary 'Foster Women'; those women in our ancestry with amazing strength and resilience. We look back at these women and shake our heads in awe as we strive to demonstrate thier strength. It's not that the Foster men are weak...I don't mean that at all...but the Foster women are just incredibly strong survivors! But I digress....

After high school graduation my dad, still a fresh faced teenager, joined the United States Navy at 17 while the world was embroiled in a long and bitter war. His military career has always been shrouded in mystery for us, because he refused to talk about it much. Most of what we know, we found out after he died and we were finally able to gain access to his military records. He'd been awarded medals that we never saw. He was on a ship in the Pacific Arena during the war, and one of our pictures of him during this time shows a rakishly handsome sailor casually smoking a cigarette and baring his chest in what must have been tropical temperatures based on the trees in the background. Now that I live in Hawaii and am aware of the huge military presence here, I like to imagine that perhaps he was here on this island!

Dad is the second from the right.

We believe that Dad's ship was one of the first US ships to land in Hiroshima, Japan after the detonation of the bomb that helped to bring the war to an end. We don't know what it was that Dad saw and experienced there, but it must have been horrendous. The few things he did mention over the years reflected his experience there, including his hatred of racism. When we would later move from Missouri to Louisiana, we found ourselves living among a much larger black population and I remember not really knowing how to adjust or adapt. Dad adamantly insisted that I resist any racist attitudes; it was one of the few times I was impressed at his 'righteous anger'! He vehemently told me that "men of any race or color are capable of horrible evil" and that NO ONE should be judged by their skin or culture. "Get to know someone past their race or color", he insisted, "then you can know whether you should be their friend or not." His eyes would look unseeing past me as he remembered his past..."you can't imagine how terrible people can be to other humans until you've seen some of the things I've seen." I didn't want to know...then. But now I wished I'd asked.

Handsome Navy sailor!

I wish I had more pictures of my dad, but unfortunately they are packed away at my mom's house with everything else from my childhood that's in storage! Oh well...at least I have a few. One of the ones that is my favorite shows us standing by the pond on our property, fishing. During my pre-teen years that was one of my favorite activities with him.

After the war, Dad married a childhood friend and they had 2 children; Sharon and then Larry. Things didn't work out, however, and Dad found himself a single father with custody of two young kids. Thankfully his mother stepped in and helped him raise the kids for about 10 years as my dad worked hard to support his family. Also thankfully during this time, he returned to his spiritual roots. When he was in his early 30's, he met my mom, a 21-year old blonde with Irish blood in her veins, who had been helping at a church camp where Sharon was attending. On a bright June day they were married.

My mom impresses me; at such a young age she became the step-mother to a 13-year old girl and a 10-year old boy! I don't think I could have done this, but she did...and she did it so well that they considered her Mom. My dad worked as an electrician for the city of Springfield, Missouri and my parents bought a house. Over the years they had my sister Janet, my brother David, my sister Michelle, and then me. I was born when mom was 35 and dad was nearly 50. I'm sure he often wondered what in the world he was doing still up at night with a newborn while his oldest daughter was already married! Sure enough, Sharon made him a grandfather before I entered Kindergarten.

Dad worked hard, but I remember so many gentle and fun memories. He loved taking us camping or to Indian pow-wows so we'd learn to embrace our Indian heritage. I thought it was so cool when he'd drive his work truck home with the big 'basket' in the back that would be lifted up on a crane when he worked on the city lights. Michelle and I would sneak up into that basket and play although I'm sure we weren't supposed to! Dad was so soft-hearted; once one of our cats got up there and had a litter of kittens overnight, which he discovered after he drove the truck to work the next day. He took time out of his schedule to drive the little feline family all the way back home so they would be safe with us!

In his early 60's Dad retired and my parents decided to move us all to the warmer climate of Louisiana. I was 9 and was proud and excited to make the drive all the way there sitting in the cab of the moving truck with Dad. Not long after we'd moved to a town so small that everyone knew everything about everyone, my mom told dad that he needed to relax, now that he was retired, and that meant wearing jeans. Gasp! My dad had never worn a pair of blue jeans in his entire life! I made the drive with him to Wal-Mart, several small towns over, and remember laughing as he cluelessly picked out various brands and styles of jeans, trying them on and asking me how he looked. As if I knew any better than he, what jeans looked good on a 60-ish retiree man (although he still had his natural black hair, thank you Indian blood!).

I love my memories during those years; fishing with Dad on the Sabine River (I could bait and fish but hated removing the captured prize so thankfully he helped with that!), helping him burn off the dead grass on our property or mow on our super-fun red riding mower. I loved riding with him in his red Silverado truck as he bounced around our land or made trips to town. Even when I got older and no longer wanted to ride in dusty trucks or sit with him in his workshop inhaling sawdust as he tinkered around, I spent time with him as he spoiled me (my older siblings made sure I knew I was a SPOILED Daddy's girl). He took me to get my drivers license when I turned 15 while Mom was visiting my sister in Georgia. He knew I hated riding the school bus during high school so every day, he'd get up and drive me to school and pick me up when school was done (my sister is still bitter about this since SHE'D always had to ride the bus up until she graduated).

Excuse the RIDICULOUS Southern Belle outfit....Dad escorting me at one of our church's infamous pageant fundraisers.

Dad was SO PROUD about each of his kids and all of our accomplishments. When my brother, who was in the Air Force, was deployed during the Gulf War, it wasn't enough to tie a yellow ribbon around the big tree by our driveway entrance; Dad pounded a huge American flag "Support Our Troops" sign into the shade of the tree. Since I'm the youngest I can't tell you how proud he is of all of my older siblings and their various accomplishments, but I do know how proud he was when my sister Michelle graduated from college. And when I graduated with my A.A. in Bible and Theology at my college in California, he was there to witness it, beaming from his wheelchair since strokes had already begun to claim his health. The last time I ever saw him alive, he urgently made me promise that no matter what, I would continue on in college and finish with my B.A. He was adamant and I promised.

It took 5 years and quite a detour across the United States....long story for another time...for me to fulfill that promise but I never felt complete until I did; sadly he was not there to witness it.

One of the last times I saw my dad; there were tears in my eyes because I couldn't stand knowing how fragile he'd become. And yet his love for me was so obvious and real.

My dad was a prayer warrior; many times throughout my life I heard him praying through the night, loudly travailing for his kids and other family or friends. Let me tell you...this is effective! As a teen there were times I was tempted to do things I shouldn't but could hear his voice ringing in my head, praying for me, and that stopped me! Or if I did do something I wasn't supposed to, it seemed that the next few nights were particularly intense prayer sessions by my dad and I KNEW God has revealed to him all of my sins...those nights saw me lying in bed with tears running down my face as I repented.

And even after Dad died, he taught me an invaluable lesson. You see, I'd never really seen God as a FATHER, as in....how he could be a DADDY to His sons and daughters. But after Dad passed away, I so desperately missed having a dad that I turned to God in anguish and really, anger that He'd taken my dad when I was still young. I began to see that yes, God IS our Father but much more than that; He wants to be a DADDY to us...those of us with good earthly dads and those of us without. He wants us to come to Him with our sorrows and joys, fears and boo-boos, desires and goals....just like we would our earthly dads. Thankfully, my relationship with God blossomed into a fuller one even after the loss...or because of the loss...of my Dad.

Dad buried in a military section of the graveyard in Louisiana.

But even into my marriage, I found myself complaining about not having my Dad around, etc. Until my husband, who has never known his father and only had countless not-so-awesome step-fathers, gently reminded me that at least I'd been blessed to HAVE a Dad around, and a good, Christian one, at that. He's right, of course. And the funny thing is, in many ways he reminds me of my dad...whom he never met. Certain gestures, sayings, or just his gentle and patient way with the kids (plus the fact that he spoils the kids!)....he is so much like my dad.

Which may be God's way of returning my dad to me, in a way, for the rest of my life here on earth.

I miss you Daddy, and I can't wait to see you again someday. Thank you for everything you were here on Earth.

Fun & Easy! Do It Yourself Flash Cards

I love finding fun (and inexpensive) ways to help my kids learn at home, and these flashcards are one way I save money AND stimulate my kids' minds. I've scoured the stores and all the flashcards I've found are either basic Alphabet letters (I already have two different sets of these), math skills, or boring pre-reading pictures. I was bored just looking at them! My son already knows the alphabet and I wanted cards that would help him sound out the letters and learn the word.

So.....here's all you need to make these fun & easy flashcards that serve a variety of purposes (more on that later).

MAGAZINES: Save your old magazines or better yet, visit your local library and ask for the 'give-away' magazine stacks. My local libraries have boxes of them for anyone to take so I can look through some I would never actually buy. There is a great variety; photography, family life, etc. Flip through looking for great pictures of basic things that your kid will recognize (or should be learning). The pictures need to be fairly small. You'll learn which are the best magazines. People magazine is entertaining to read but doesn't have the great pictures I can find in Martha Stewarts' Living or the Good Housekeeping magazines...ha....

TAPE: small and large clear varieties.

SCISSORS

SHARPIE MARKER

INDEX CARDS: I found the kind that are blank on both sides but regular ones with one blank side work fine.

Looking through the magazines, rip out any pictures that you want to use. Cut them to fit on the card and carefully tape into position using the small tape. I use just enough to secure the picture in one tiny area, where I won't be writing. Make sure you leave room on the card to write the word.

Use the marker to neatly write the word on the card.

Now using the large clear tape, carefully cover the entire picture. At this point it's fine if some tape covers the word. The tape acts as a 'laminate' for the picture and extends the life of your flashcards.

It's so fun to see what pictures and words you can use to make flashcards!

AGES 0 - 3; the child can review the pictures and learn what they are. I am always amazed at how many things Olivia (almost 2) actually correctly identifies!

AGES 3 - 5; as the child learns the alphabet you can start covering the picture at first and letting them practice sounding out the word. I love seeing how many words Samuel (almost 4) knows by either sight or sounding them out.

To switch it up for a pre-schooler, have them sort the cards by subject; "Which cards are food? Which ones are animals? Which ones are something you'd wear?"

A bonus for parents; take the cards with you and whip them out in those times when you need to entertain your child in a semi-quiet way (church, doctor's office, etc). My kids love looking at them during church and usually, I find nearby toddlers sneaking under the seat to join my kids and they all love looking through the cards!

I actually keep a record of which words I have on flashcards on the computer so I don't repeat the same word. This also helps me keep track of how many Olivia knows (about 25!) Currently I have 75 cards but that's because I've been doing this over a couple of months. I grab magazines here and there and do about 3-5 cards a week.

So have fun being creative and expanding your child's mind!

One last picture...this has nothing to do with the flashcards....here is Olivia with her 'laptop' set up by our computer, her bottle of water on the side...maybe she's updating her own blog? I love her!

Jesus Loves Those Cowboys, Knights, and Princesses.

It was a crowded arcade in a restaurant by the beach; the neon lights flashed and tinned music loudly competed for the attention of the kids playing the games. My attention was not on the games, however, but on the little girl. Enthralled, I just stood and watched her for awhile. Was she a Princess? A Fairy? A Bride? This fascinating girl of about 6 or 7 was dressed in what had obviously been a Flower Girl gown; you could see that it was not a ‘cheap’ costume or thrift store outfit. But the dress had probably served its purpose, and why let it go to waste or just give it away…? Ha….I could see that her mother, who was bemusedly watching her daughter play, just loved seeing her little girl have fun. Besides the beautiful dress, the little girl wore a plastic crown over her shoulder-length brown curls, and she proudly sported fancy plastic dress-up heels. With an abandon that only comes with childhood, this child was lost in her imagination as she scampered and played all over the carousel of horses and the benches lining the room. Of course her dress was getting dirty and her hair was messy. Some people may have clucked their tongues and commented over ‘wasting’ such a pretty dress, or how the girl wasn’t ‘behaving’ properly at the restaurant. I was years away from having my own kids, but my heart danced along with this sprite and I silently applauded her mother for allowing her to enjoy her freedom and creativity. That, I decided, would one day be me and my daughter, regardless of tongue clucking or disparaging comments from the less-imaginative folks.

I love the idea of imagination and creativity! Perhaps it comes from being the Youngest Child or from endless hours spent reading Anne of Green Gables (reknown for her over-active imagination!). But I realize I’ve always had my own active imagination and luckily….so very luckily…I had a mother who allowed it to grow. She understood that sometimes your room gets incredibly messy when the circus has come to town and all of your dolls/stuffed animals are busy performing. She knew that a Barbie scenario sometimes stretched over several days, meaning that once Ken and the girls were decked out in their finest and positioned all over the couch and coffee table, they shouldn’t be rushed away until the Ball was over in a few days. My parents fully embraced the idea that sometimes the living room should be arranged to accommodate a huge tent of quilts and blankets spread out over the various chairs and furniture. In fact, my dad would walk around the tent and chuckle when he got off work, and my mom would bring us dinner to eat in our tent.

Crazy? Maybe. Wonderful? Absolutely!

Of course I have friends with similar ideas. If you don’t read my friend Amy’s blog (The Adventures of the Miraflor Family), you should: her son Jake has a crazy imagination and always brings a smile to my face by his constant antics and creativity.

Sir Knight Jake and his trusty steed.

And then there is my friends Cheyenne and Robert (another great blog: Our Lovely Mess); they take their daughter to Fairy parks in Chicago and participate in searching for the elusive fairies. Robert even recently made these great toadstool stools for their yard…can you imagine the wonderful hours of imaginative play their kids will have with such great imaginative props?

Since becoming a parent, I’ve gotten into the habit of taking my kids to the local playgrounds. Unfortunately, this means I’ve discovered the Playground Nazis. These parents are NO JOKE and you will run into them eventually. They have strict ideas about how their kids should play on the play structures. You don’t run UP the slides, ever. You don’t touch the play structure with anything other than your feet. And God forbid their kids ever try to play on the OUTSIDE of the structure, like little monkeys! These Nazi Parents circle the structure like buzzards with their eyes never leaving their kids. They yell and gesture broadly when their kid dares disobey the Rules. I can’t ever decide if I should glare at them, laugh at them, or pity them. Don’t they understand that sometimes the play structure is a fort….sometimes a pirate ship…who knows? I can’t believe they are trying to restrict their kids’ play so much. As long as basic rules are followed, let the kids play! My kids know MY rules: let others take their turns. No pushing, shoving, or other inappropriate physical contact. Invite the quieter and shyer kids to play because you never know who might be a good friend. Have fun and don’t put up a fuss when we have to leave.

Please ignore the mess! Samuel and Olivia being crazy Saturday night.

Speaking of appropriate behavior, I hope people don’t think my husband and I are allowing our kids to grow up without any guidelines just because we want to foster their imagination! Oh no…trust me….these kids get their share of discipline. We try hard to teach them correct behavior…manners…etc. How to behave in church, how to be nice and polite, and what is expected of them. They have chores from the time they can walk; they know to put trash away, dishes in the sink, dirty clothes in the hamper, and toys in the toybox.

Samuel and Olivia safely in their boat with their toys that they just barely managed to 'rescue from the water'.

But we also don’t stress out when Samuel wants to wear his cowboy boots with his church clothes, like he did yesterday (he was very serious!):

I loved it when my friend allowed her young daughter to wear her Minnie Mouse dress to church.

Why not? I don’t think God would mind at all if we let our kids come sometimes in mismatched costumes and outfits. In fact, Jesus loved and spoke about the minds of innocent children. He told US to be more like THEM, with their pure hearts! Perhaps if we stressed LESS about what our children chose to wear (within modest reason!) and MORE about their little hearts learning to love Jesus, they might grow up loving Him with more abandon and sincerity.

Just a thought.

And you know what? People get paid BIG MONEY to be creative in the grown-up world, in certain jobs! Having brilliant and creative ideas for ads, photography, etc. pays off in some careers. If those people hadn't been allowed to grow an imagination, how dull our world would be.

For now, let me just warn you. You never know how my kids will look when they leave our house. But I will not notice or pay attention to any tongue-clucking or head-shaking so don't bother with either. Life happens soon enough, with all of the heartache and seriousness and responsibility. My kids will face betrayal and sadness before I am ready for them too...so for now, let them be Princesses or dragons or whatever they choose to pretend to be. Let their imaginations soar. Let them be innocent, carefree kids.

Like all of us wish we could be...once again.

Snakes & Snails & Puppy Dog Tails...

...that's what little boys are made of!

Oh, how many times does that little nursery rhyme echo in my head! I totally agree with it, too.

Well, luckily we don't have any actual snakes here in Hawaii...except in the Zoo. But of course, Samuel loves looking at all the pictures of snakes in his books. He recently had a book with full-page color pictures of snakes eating huge eggs with that scary mouth-stretching digestion-whatever action that they do. It was so disgusting to me I couldn't even look at it. He, of course, loved it.

And puppy dog tails...well, we got rid of our poor little doggie for several reasons; one being that Samuel wasn't as gentle with her as he should have been. So her and her little tail are safely in Maui now with a nice non-little boy family.

But the snails...oh my. Here in Hawaii we have huge snails and they love coming out at night when the grass is damp. And Samuel LOVES to go out looking at all the snails. So far he just likes to poke at them with a stick, making their slimy little bodies hastily retreat into the shells. Then he pushes them down hills and across the sidewalk. Poor things. At least they aren't getting smashed or otherwise killed. He hasn't thought of that yet, I'm sure.

Poking a snail on our snail hunt last night.

He insisted on getting pictures of ALL the snails he saw last night. For your sake I won't upload them all :)

Telling me about the "Daddy and baby snail"

As my kids get older, it is becoming more and more obvious how different they are as a boy VS. a girl. I sort of thought it was a bit cliche to say this, but they really are THAT different!

A look into a 3-almost-4 year old boy's head:

Samuel hears loud noises and runs toward them excitedly. Olivia runs to me and hides her face.

Samuel sees a bug and happily smashes it with his BARE FOOT, then rubs it off his foot while taunting it; "Ha ha bug, I got you with my foot!" Olivia wrinkles her nose and points to him with a disgusted "Ewwww!"

Samuel climbs everything in sight and usually jumps from it, no matter how high.

Every toy is not a toy. It is either a missile or weapon disguised as a toy. And if possible, it should be dismembered as much as possible to see how it works.

My 2-yr old enjoying some Cholula hot sauce. Real men drink it straight from the bottle.

Birds should be chased. Comments should be shouted. Sisters can be bitten. Dirt looks best thrown into the air and allowed to settle in your hair. Scars are cool. Burps should be done in public as loudly as possible and repeated if no one reacts right away. Permanent black markers make great pictures on your body...and on your little sister's face.

Now he has chest hair and Olivia has....?? Whiskers?

The list could go on an on....

So many times, I thank God for my little girl. She's a tough one; she has to be in order to survive! But she's very much a little girl who protests if Daddy or Samuel burps, or if she sees a bug, or if Samuel makes a mess. She's my little balance in life to all of Samuel's boy-ish-ness.

I never had a little brother so I have been a little overwhelmed at his actions, to tell the truth. Many times I've gotten frustrated. But THANKFULLY I bought the book by Dr. Dobson "Bringing Up Boys". Oh man, that book has helped me so much! It explains all the differences between the sexes and WHY boys act they way that they do. They aren't being disobedient or willfully bad ALL the time. It's their energy levels...testosterone, etc.

I love learning how to understand my little boy. He's really a sweetie and I would do anything for him. I don't want him to be a "Momma's Boy" but I DO want to have a lifetime closeness with him. He's precious and brings such joy to my heart in so many ways...flashing the "I Love You" in sign language to me during church...wanting to hold my hand when he falls asleep for his nap in the afternoon...coming up and buttoning the VERY top button of my shirt and kindly telling me, "I've got this, Mommy. Here....all done now." The funniest is when I help him with a task and he cheers; "Yay! Good job, buddy!"

Samuel, I hope I am always your buddy. I would be honored.

Thank goodness for people who have 'been there, done that' with boys, because I find their advice and insight invaluable. And I'm so thankful for my other friends raising little boys, because we can compare notes and I realize I'm not going insane.

Or if I am, at least I'm not alone!

THANK HEAVEN for little boys :)

My Selfish Confession for the Day

Last year at this time, I was crying and moaning about my baby boy going off to his first day of school. Well, in my defense, he was only TWO and it was to a preschool at a REGULAR public elementary school! With a birthday in August, he's one of those late fall babies that are always a little younger than the other classmates. He turned three a few weeks after school started.

Fast forward to this year; first day of school once more...and I am certainly not crying and moaning about anything...haha! Yes he's still three (turns four soon) and it's the same preschool at the same public school, but things are much different this year.

He's been asking about school ALL SUMMER LONG and this, to put it mildly, has been an annoying echo in my ears. Every single day and usually several times a day. SHEESH!

But on a serious note, he thrives so well at school. He has a speech delay and receives speech therapy at school, and this has really, really helped him by leaps and bounds. Just comparing his speech from now to one year ago is astounding. Public education (and Hawaii's system in particular) may have downfalls in some areas but I give his teachers and speech therapist a standing ovation. They have done wonders with him and certainly deserve the appreciation.

Totally ecstatic to return to the classroom this morning.

Also, from a purely selfish parent stand-point, I've noticed that he behaves better when school is in session! All those hours of following instructions and copying his peers...during the school year he listens and obeys so much better than in the summer time. Am I alone in noticing this...is it just my kid?!?

And then there's the pickiness about food...heavens; I do not know how he survives in the summer because he eats so very, very little. It's a nightmare and we've tried everything. But during the school year....yeah...he eats so much better! Something about eating the cafeteria food (blech) with all his buddies transforms him into a lot less pickier eater at home.

And one more selfish parent thing; the house is quieter in the morning, I get a whole lot more done, I get to have some nice one-on-one time with Olivia, and I can even lie down with her when she takes a nap and if I'm lucky, I get a short nap too! Whoo-hoo! I know, totally selfish. But awesome.

Last year she was just crawling; this year she walked with him to school.

So no tears for me this year! I know that in the future, I may want to follow my original plans and homeschool Samuel, but for now, he is in the best possible situation for his needs. He is getting so much help and positive enrichment and I would be selfish to remove him from that environment at this time.

And today I got the floor picked up & vacuumed, the dishes done, and ALL of my laundry done before noon! Wowsers! AND I get to sit here in the quiet while Olivia is napping, and update my blog! Thank you, return of the school year :)

I love you Samuel, but have a great day at school!