Packages. My Christmas Letter to You!

Well here we are today on the only day where I let my kids eat green and red holiday Skittles before breakfast.  I also wanted to see how many would be brave enough to post a picture of their living rooms after presents were shredded open. It looks as though I appear to be the only one. As big of a mess as it looks, I'm not one of these parents who goes crazy with shopping each year. It only seems as such because there are seven of us.
    The kids were happy, none the less, with dollar tree items, a few nicer things they had requested from Santa and all of us received new socks with, once again, good intentions of not ending up in the ever growing so quickly misfit bag. I have tried to keep everyone fairly up to date on all of our family happenings this year to include, a summer vacation, a visit to my place of heritage and anything having to do with volleyball. However, there were other things not mentioned that happened this year that I found to be memorable and even perhaps, presents that cannot be wrapped.

Rebecca, 15:

Has autism and made the Honor Roll after the first semester of her sophomore year.
Took me to see "Mocking Jay" and "Spiderman."
Got baptised.

Madeline, 14:

Let me borrow her cowboy boots, earbuds and hair straightener.
Had meaningful conversations with me instead of her iphone even if she didn't feel like it.
Cleaned her room. Twice!

Emma, 9:

Trips to the pottery studio with me on Saturdays.
Became best buddies with her older sister whom she used to fight with.
Still wants to sit on my lap at age 9.

Laurel, 6 :

Climbs in bed with me on Saturday mornings.
Puts her dirty cups and plates in the sink on her own.
Brought home a good conduct grade after being nice to the boys for a change.

Deidre, 3:

Sings the song "Let it Go" for us.
Discovered what the green frog on the bathroom floor was all about.
Didn't choke on a hot dog.

I, for one, celebrated a 20th wedding anniversary, saw an old friend that I had not seen since high school and found my college graduation tassel that I had been looking for. I didn't make a Christmas list this year but if I had, I can now say that I have received everything on it.

On this night of hope and salvation
One child lies embraced in a dream
Where each man regardless of station
On this night can now be redeemed

All rejoice
Raise your voices
Raise your voices
All rejoice, Anno Domine -Trans Siberian Orchestra


Merry Christmas!
Mike, Sam and the Fair Fab Five                            

Space Heater

Each morning after the kids are gone and the house is quiet, I go to my room and begin what I consider to be the most important part of my day. I have a rocking chair, a cup of coffee and a space heater. As a cold natured person, the space heater keeps me warm as my mind begins to sort out all the details of my very colorful world for that day. However, I don't stay in the rocking chair for long before I get on my knees.

It takes about an hour to pray through everything. A lot of it is the same as it was yesterday since I have the same kids, work and marriage I had yesterday. However, there are certain times throughout the day I don't always consider beyond the space heater where divine intervention is needed. I have a lot to be thankful for but when it comes to prayer, there are some things of which I'm not afraid to ask.

Mail

As I walk to the mail box each day, I sometimes feel a twinge of nerves as there is always a chance for an unexpected bill or a violation notification from our HOA. As a result, going to the mail box can change the course for the entire day. However, good things can also come from checking the mail. I always welcome the inexpected check from the insurance company or the 5$ coupon to Publix. Either way, prayer is needed as I walk to my mail box.

Deer

For work purposes, I am in my car a lot. Years ago, I ran over a frog on a country road going to teach. I felt really bad about it. Even in my denial, I checked the road very carefully the next day in the off chance that I may have dodged it but unfortunatly, there he was flat on the road. It was my first roadkill. Some days later, on that same road lie a deer and a teacher friend of mine on her way to work sobbing on the road's shoulder. Her car was damaged and we all spent the day trying to comfort her. From this day forward, I prayed that that would never happen to me and so far it hasn't.

Ian

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love the UK. I have been there twice and plan to return in 2016 (if not sooner). But in the mean time, I still study maps, cook fish and chips and educate myself more about the culture anyway I can. One afternoon while feeling bold and daring I replied to a tweet by one of my favorite bloggers. It was kind of like daring myself to squeeze the ketchup bottle all over the shy kid across the table in the cafeteria. This blogger got a good dose of my ketchup all the way across the pond through cyberworld. He's a complete stranger and I had the nerve to tell him God loves him after a sarcastic comment that was religious in nature. His reply: "@samantha_fair I doubt a fictitious character from a fairy story loves anyone." On my knees by the heater, I pray for him everyday.



A few other things come to mind such as when the key to my music room gets stuck, when I lose my glasses, that God would bless our entrance before we walk into the house when our teenagers have been in charge for a couple of hours, and that I will never get Bell's Palsy.

I run the space heater a lot and have for several years now. Like most of our appliances it should have worn out by now but hasn't.

  .......I pray about that too.


1 Thessalonians 5:17 - Pray without ceasing.


                                                              
                                            
                                                                           

My World. Again.-Potty Training

Dear God,

        It's that time again. Next to treating head lice, probably one of the most stressful times for me to be a parent.Though my children all do well in school, pick up after themselves when asked, say their please and thank you's, there just aren't a lot of other parents running to me for advise on this subject. I just need a little help that's all.
   
      Remember that little accident she had on Monday while she was at the table coloring? Well it happened again.....this time at the mall. What can I say? I guess she likes those juice boxes and I guess I like my house work so much that I just, well, I forget. Please help me to remember before I realize my negligence at the time she decides to sit on my lap.
       
    Lord, I feel sometimes that I am going insane when we are running late for church, brushing hair, tying shoes, changing clothes that are not appropriate for church, some of us....then, that other little something happens that wasn't planned. Keep me, oh God, in your loving arms during these times and free from the talent scouts for the Lysol commercials.
 
    I can only dream about where I'll be a year from now, (though I pray it will be sooner). There will be diaper freedom, replaced garbage cans, and a phone call to the carpet cleaners. But for now, I just need a little strength, perseverance, and provision for a little more laundry detergent than usual. And maybe, just maybe, a few more days like today when we go to the dentist without a change of clothes and come home with dry pants. Thank you, God.

In your name we pray,
Amen


Written on  9.17.14. We've progressed since.

10 Reasons Why I Take Bubble Baths by Candle Light, Listen to Mozart, and Drink Merlot on Fridays

1. I walked past the laundry room.
2. The episode that involved a walk through the house carrying a plunger.
3. The puddle in the kitchen I stepped with socks on.
4. Laurel did her homework at the last minutes and left for school without her folder.
5. My student scheduled tennis lessons on Tuesdays which is also when
    she happens to have piano  lessons.
6. The fight we all got into in the car over Taco Bell.
7. Deidre found an old sandwich that was left over in someone's lunchbox and offered me a piece.   
    How sweet.
8. The cranberry juice spill on the carpet that was steam cleaned two weeks ago.
9. I opened the power bill.
10. The now thawed and useless carton of ice cream that ended up in the bathroom 
     for some apparent  reason.

Alas....it's only Tuesday..sigh.

.James 1:2 Dear brothers and sisters,^a when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.

Dental Check-up Appointment-A Memoire

I remember it was a Monday. Not just a Monday, but a morning on a Monday. The dimly lit kitchen was even more so as dark clouds appeared in the sky. It was raining. Monday. Morning. Raining...and wasn't Laurel's dental appointment today?  "Ok. This is bad." I thought. "But.....I..got..this."

I thought about the advantage of having fewer kids to get ready for school that morning. Then, step by step, continued to work my way  through the early hours to that which I dread most. I prayed that there would be no cavities.

With an eighth of a tank of gas in my car, I was optimistic that the dentist would still see us even if we were 15 minutes late. With no umbrellas left, I had hoped that there would be a break in the rain as we made our way to the car. There was.

I did not notice the hole in Laurel's pants before we left home. Maybe no one would notice once we would arrive at the office. If so, I secretly hoped the other parents in the waiting room would think: "Been there." rather that stone cold stares of critique.

While Peter Pan played from the outdated VCR tv monitor, the kids were entertained by toy trains with magnetic connectors and wooden train tracks. They were not interested in the books or the puppet that was missing an eye. The magazines were useless....I forgot my glasses.

I remember the endless wait. I thought about the many chores that had to be done before leaving for work that afternoon. I thought about all the fruit snacks eaten, followed by the nights when she fell asleep with her clothes on before brushing her teeth. And I just knew I was going to get yelled at for not scheduling that follow up after she had that tooth pulled. Finally it was time.

It was only a check-up. Somehow Laurel had her doubts. The x-rays were a no-go.  She was not convinced when I told her the dental instruments were just toys that the dentist use when they clean your teeth.
You could not have pried that mouth open with a crow bar. Even the strawberry flavored flouride paste applied with a soft toothbrush caused her pain. I think I saw tissue being handed around in the waiting room. "It's gonna be fine. We're just cleaning your teeth. It's gonna be fine. Tell her, mom!" The doctor said sternly. I securly held her hands through it all. Then it was over. "She will need sealants but I'm not going to do that today." said the doctor.

No cavities.

Cheap Glasses, Pantyhose, and Music Lessons

                                    

When I was  kid I wanted to be the kid who wore glasses. I even went as far as buying a pair of sunglasses, breaking the lenses out and just wearing the frames to school one day. Well, I had my classmates for a little while, but eventually, I had to come to grips with the fact that I was just going to have to accept the fact that I had 20/20 vision.

Later, as I got older, life without glasses was not as much of an issue when I saw how much trouble it was for my friends to care for their contact lenses while taking them out at night and the hopelessness if one of them got lost down the sink. I simply forgot about it and enjoyed the fact that I had good vision.

Well, apparently the joke is now on me that I, too, at this stage in my life know what it is like to open my Bible or my email without seeing something that looks similar to the letters on someones t-shirt on a reality show. Yes, after baby number 5, my good vision was a thing of the past.

Everyone warned me and I have much to look forward to as I have been told that the problem does not go away on it's own.

It hasn't been all that bad really. I managed to find some pretty decent reading glasses for about 5 dollars that I can purchase at Kroger. However, it does make for somewhat of a lifestyle change. I have to make sure I have them with me at all times when I leave for work, keep them away from Deidre and take every measure I can to prevent that sinking feeling when I cannot find them.

The only downside to cheap grocery store glasses is that I can usually get about two months wear out of them before the screw falls out and sides fall off. Sadly, today was that day for me.

Though I won't make it to the grocery store before work, it's nothing a little duct tape and a sharpie cannot fix. No one will notice a thing..... well, almost no one.

I teach music for a living and work with school-aged children one on one. Back in the day when I taught in a classroom, every hand in the class would ascend into the air simply due to a run in my pantyhose. When I would address the issue telling them that I was already aware of the problem, the hands would disappear.

Today, Norah asked "Why is there tape on you glasses?"

I no longer wear pantyhose. Additionally, maybe it's time for contacts.

w

Not Your Ordinary Day at the Salon

                                            

In 2009 my life would forever change. I became a blonde!  Though I like to think of myself as youthfully minded while not matching my chronoligical age in as many ways as I can, my hair at the time just did not reflect this. I noticed the first of many grey hairs before the age of 30. So, since I did not wish to be of salt and pepper at the age of 40, I stepped out and made this bold move. It was a very exciting time.

Of course in making this decision  it would mean I would have to commit. Just because I color my hair doesn't mean anyone has to know about it (with the exception of those who already knew me as the ex-brunette beforehand). In any event, I was willing to invest a little more in my hair care needs and visit the salon for the upkeep as often as necessary.

Across the board, most salons are all alike pretty much. Hair styling stations with the many reflections throughout of the many mirrors, sinks, the array of hair care products and very colorful people working there. Another thing I've noticed is that they are also very well lit. With this being the case, I see more wrinkles in those mirrors, my teeth don't look as white and I look fat in those smocks. I look around and the stylists seem as though they are best friends with their clients while engaging in endless small talk. I used to feel a bit awkward as I do not have a gift for small talk but since I came to the realization that I am an introvert this does not bother me as much. I am also fortunate enough to have a stylist that understands this. Though we do converse somewhat, it's still nice to not be under any obligation.

With all these elements aside, I enjoy the salon. My favorite part is when the stylist is finally done wrapping my hair in foil and I have 20 minutes of solitude. Sometimes I even get a five minute bonus if my hair is not ready yet. I also don't mind staring at the ceiling with my head over a sink while my stylist massages my scalp with whatever it is she uses that always smells good and makes my hair so smooth. Ahh...and now the hair dryer. Once again, I don't have to converse. My imagination runs wild!

Salons can be very interesting places. Now that I visit more often for longer sittings, something is bound to happen at some point that will get my attention. People have different reasons why they visit salons. Everyone seems to have their own needs for whatever their hair requires with their own story. It could be a prom date or a wedding do, the "chop it all off" before and after, or maybe a new look all together like I once did.

But today, the inevitable finally occured........as well as the unthinkable.

I arrived at the salon at approximatlely 10:15 this morning. As I made my way to my stylists station, the neighboring stylist's client arrived a few minutes later. Her hair was 50 inches long. It hit the floor once she was seated. The stylist began to work and at times had to stand a good few feet away just to work on the ends of this woman's very long hair. I marveled at it. Everyone did. I, as well as any of the stylists had never seen anything quite like it. She had not had a haircut since 2005.

At the time, I didn't really know why she was there. But it soon became evident. She had gone to sleep one night and woke up the next morning unable to brush her hair. It had tangled so badly during the night, it was more than she was able to care for the next day.

At first, it seemed like it just needed to be brushed a little more than usual. The next thing I noticed, there were 3 stylist collectievly working on the task. What might have seemed simple became grueling. As 45 minutes became 60 then 90, the job continued. While I was being soothed by scalp massages and the theraputic aroma of hair product, this woman was in agony. Strand after strand was combed and pulled from the top of her head to the bottom. She fought back the tears as did I. I envied this woman at first as I have never been able to grow my hair past my bra strap. Now, I tried not to watch as she continued to go through hell. It was 12:45PM. I was done before she was.

As I was checking out the two behind the counter were bickering as they were trying to figure out the new computer system. As I waited, I thought about the woman and hoped she was ok.

10 minutes later, I went back to tip my stylist. When I saw the woman again, her hair looked almost fully restored. As I walked away, her stylist from a distance said "Thank you for your business." I walked back, hugged the woman from behind and kissed the back of her head. I think I heard her smile.


If anyone knows, it's me....sometimes you just need a hug.

Little Black Dress

Sunday: Had one of those moments where I though my life was over after I backed
into a Mercedes Benz at the park with Emma. But my life continued.

Monday: I had to use a toothbrush that came from the kid's dentist office.
Deidre took mine off of the sink. I know it's here somewhere.

Tuesday: Laurel now has a new favorite shirt. It's pink with a cat that says
"Boo!" on it. She insists on wearing it daily in spite of what is spilled on it
or what she found in the back yard.

Wednesday: Survived the school fund raiser at Chik-fil-a after twice climbing up
the play structure to get Deidre while people around me were saying "It'll be
okay, mom!"

Did I mention that I backed into a Mercedes. Oh, wait, yes, yes I did.

Thursday: Continuosly picked up Deidre's raisins off the floor at the endodontist while a root canal procedure was being explained to me. 

Friday: Waited until noon to take a shower for the carpet cleaners to arrive
with the hopes that the cleaning equipment would still work after cleaning my
floor. They didn't show up.

Friday night: Gonna wear this and smile!


                                         

                                           

Carrot Picnic

I'm not what you would call the "conventional" type. I have never really ever been afraid to do my own thing.

I'm gonna let you in on a few secrets. I take bubble baths by candlelight, I have a rocking chair at my desk, I sleep until 10 am sometimes and I love my non-9-to-5 job. Additionally, I sometimes just don't feel like sitting at a table for lunch. There are certain areas in my house that are just more comfortable. My rocking chair converts just fine to a lounge chair in my bedroom in front of the TV where I spend my lunch watching reruns of The Brady Bunch (besides this, I watch very little TV). It's something I've done since I was a kid and simply just can't explain.

Now that the older kids are in school and it's just me and Deidre, she often brings her lunch plate up to the bedroom to join me. It would be pointless to send her back down to the table as she would be back upstairs with her plate again the second I turned around. So I got a blanket, laid it out on the floor, turned on her favorite show and had a picnic right there in the bedroom.

She had a two quarters of a ham sandwich and I had a hot dog left over from the night before (I am the only one who eats the leftovers). We both had baby carrots on our plates. She ate her carrots and the next thing I realized, mine had disappeared from my plate. Since she had probably had her fill of carrots, she began to feed the remainder of my own to me. Up on her little knees, her tiny hand with the carrot was right in front of me. She smiled and laughed as I pulled it away with my teeth. As I chewed, she offered another which I took also as well as a third one after that. My mouth grew fuller with carrot bits as she kept them coming. She offered another while growing eager waiting for me to swallow. "Eat it." she said smiling, as I was unable to open my mouth. I took it anyway as I just could not say no.

10 minutes prior, I had no idea I would have this experience. One I will not too soon forget. It started with just a blanket.



                          


                               

Minivan

In 2005 we did the unthinkable. It was something I promised myself I would never
do. When we were given word that baby number 3 was soon to arrive, the
unthinkable became the inevitable. In September of that year, we welcomed a new
2005 Toyota Sienna to dwell amongst us. It was shiny, red, clean, scratch and
dent-free with only 11 miles on it.

Our little Christmas present named Emma arrived on Dec.21st....the whole reason
for this crossover so to speak.

Nine years later, the only thing about it that is still the same is that it is
still red.... Oh, and might I add, PAID FOR!

It still runs great in spite of scooter scratches from kids who didn't realize the
concept of permanent damage at the time, numerous tire replacements, a new
radiator, and maybe a few french fries under the seats. It has been featured on
Google maps on the corner of Sever and Tab Roberts roads in Lawrenceville, GA as
well as on the photo from that traffic violation when I made a left turn on red
in the intersection in Snellville, GA. I handed the photo along with my penalty to
woman at the bureau. She took my payment and handed the photo back to me and
informed me in a very friendly manner that  I could keep it. I thought about how
 it would make such great material for my scrapbook. Inevitably, minivans
sometimes make mistakes.

As my minivan has matured, so had Emma. Since it is hard to give all my kids the
individual attention I should be giving them, I have to set aside a special
weekend for each of them for one on one time. It was Emma's turn and she had
informed me she was ready to get her ears pierced.

We had the joy of spending this very special bonding time as she picked out her
earrings with feelings of excitement and a bit of anxiety. She toughed it out and
cleaned her ears 6 different times when she got home.

After frozen cookies and cream in the food court she decided she wanted to go to the
park. When we arrived at the park there was a large birthday party taking place
in the pavilion. There were about 100 guests, a DJ, bubbles blowing from a
bubble blower and a ginormous spread of decorative cake pops. I thought for sure
that Justin Bieber was going to show up at any moment. Since we weren't invited
we kept our distance and enjoyed the early fall temperature, blue skies and the
sun at less of an angle. After a nauseating attempt as an adult on the swings, I
decided to locate a bench close by. Emma joined me.

Of all of my children, I remember the sound of Emma's whimper the most. Out of the
5, I would have to say that she is the most discontent which carried through into
her early childhood years. Because of this, I had to work very had to teach her
to develop a strong sense of independence. She had to learn to solve her own
problems, help herself when she needed things, and do more for herself on her own .....
surprisingly, I succeeded. Since she doesn't need me as much, I miss her
sometimes. Our bonding time together suddenly became of much greater value.

As we were relishing in the great pleasure of the afternoon, a woman with a parrot
sitting on her shoulder was walking towards us. I was greatly hoping she would
stop at our bench to cap off this perfect afternoon. The birds name was Ms. Miles
and could have easily starred as a lead role in the movie "Rio." Ms Miles ruffled her
feathers for us, ate a peanut, and made wild bird noises. It was adorable. We
thought it was entertainment for the party but it wasn't, she was there simply to
enjoy the lovely weather as we were.

We decided it was time to go home after the perfect afternoon. However, we were
not prepared for what was to come next.

When it comes to backing out of parking lots, I am a bit obsessive about looking where
I am going. Today, on this particular occasion, maybe a little less so as I would
back into a Mercedes Benz. Not that there's ever a good time for a minivan to
make a mistake, but needless to say, my mood was quickly vanquished as the timing
was significantly off.

Though my car was more scratched up that the Mercedes, the scratches on my car
would just simply blend in to the ones that already existed. Though minimal, I'm
sure the owner of the Benz would notice his. Many things ran through my mind.
With impending medical bills, I couldn't face a lawsuit. Cameras would catch me
if I left the scene and I would be arrested. Emma saw the whole thing. The
scratches wouldn't have been as bad if only it wasn't a Mercedes! Ohhh, life was so
much better 5 minutes ago!

Once I was able to calm down, the best thing for me to do was to just leave a note on
the windshield which was what I did. It read:

Hi,

I backed into your car
and left a few scratches.
I feel really bad about
it. Please feel free
to contact me if necessary.

Samantha


No one called.






                                                                                                                                                                                                           

                            

Prayer, Photography and Gas Prices

I prayed two prayers today. First of all, that God would make a photographer out

of me. Not necessarily a good photographer but at least someone who can operate

a camera and have that prompt that makes me think "I must get a picture of

that." as I swiftly grab my camera.

Up until now, my photography has kind of sucked. Anyone who has seen my photos

on my Facebook would probably agree. Some of my photos are too blurry, the

lighting is all wrong and I have cut off many heads. Also, not to mention the

fact that with the large tribe of kids I have, it is pathetic that I don't shoot

pictures as often as I should.

Now that I am a writer, it makes sense that I would have pictures to go along

with my stories. Since I have started writing, I am now starting to experience

those "prompts" which lead me to want to grab my camera to spontaneosly capture

the glimps and quite possibly throw a few more words together to go along with

it.

Mike has a nice Fuji camera but the camera on my phone works okay. Sadly, I also

have a phone thats ready to die and does not hold a charge for more than a day.

As long as I'm prepared, I don't mind doing things on the cheap and keeping

things simple.

My second prayer has had to do with the gas prices these days. In 2008 to be

exact, gas prices were about what they have been lately....more than we should

be paying and leaving us filling our tanks only half way at the pumps (not that

this helps anything but at least we THINK we being more conservative). At the

time, I had just started a new job which required 60 mile round trip commute.

The gas prices miraculously dropped below $2.00 immediatly after I started. I

don't usually get that lucky. In 2010, I got pregnant with Deidre, left that job

and gas prices soared again.

It is now 2014 and I recently started another new teaching job which requires

another longer commute. You may be wondering what gas prices have to do with

cameras and taking pictures. It's rather simple. It "prompted" me to take a

picture of something I have not see in a while. 2010 to be exact.

Praying this continues.

Hospitals, the "Never a Dull Moments" and...Codfish??

It was an ordinary week. Maybe even just a little busier as one of my main concerns was how I was going to work my lesson schedule around choir practice at my church that week.

Pizza Casserole

Every married couple at some point in life makes one very important decision - When to have kids.

For me, I was in no hurry. It was a big decision and I didn't think I was mature enough for the resposibilty compared to other moms I knew. I still haven't really changed much in this respect.
After a few years, we decided it was time. We gave birth to our first born in January 1999.

When Rebecca was about 3, we discovered that she had a mind of her own, but we had concerns. After a series of evaluations, it was determined that she had a mild form of autism. Though measures had to be taken to secure proper arrangements and we would not observe normal development patters, this news, for some reason, never bothered me.

We faced many challenges as her speech was delayed, she was not always in the most suitable learning environment, and doesn't connect socially for someone her age. But, one thing holds true. She knows who she is and we let her be that person.

Over the years, she has been passionate about many things. The first thing I remember was the color red. She cried at the Special Olympics when she was handed the first place ribbon instead of the
red second place one for the 50-yard dash. She loved the movie Toy Story and wore the Buzz Lightyear light up shoes that I had to special order online to get the right size. Lastly, I have more Dale Earnhart Jr. paraphanaglia than I know what to do with now that she no longer likes NASCAR.

Through the many phases that we would see, pizza was something that was always consistent. One afternoon, Rebecca had informed me of a mac and cheese cook off the youth group was having at church. She enthusiastically reminded me for 7 straight days that she wanted to enter and made me promise not to forget.

We thought that if both mac and cheese and pizza were combined, the odds would be in our favor. Rebecca did all the work as she cooked noodles, stired in sauce and baked for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. With my pot holders, a casserole dish in hand and a trip
across the parking lot, the games would begin.

When I returned two hours later, I noticed something in her hand as she walked to the car. It wasn't my pot holders which she left behind. She had informed me that she would be treating us to dinner
at The Olive Garden. Unmistakably, she had won the cook-off.

Her pizza mac and cheese is now a regular item on our menu. Though she wants it often, we have it every few weeks or so as we do not want to tire of it. Last week, she informed me that it had been long enough since the last time as I was planning the weekly meals.
She mentioned it throughout the week and made sure I added all the ingrediants to the grocery list.

I left that afternoon to go teach like always. When I came home, she had the table set, the oven heated and the water boiling. I didn't have to cook that night.

Autism doesn't bother me.

Volleyball. Again.

There was a crisp chill in the October air today as the early fall leaves were
beginning to contrast against the crystal clear blue sky. Today was Saturday and
and as Summer had finally past, new goodbye's were also on the horizon.

I realized I had learned a few things about being a mom of a child in athletics.
As a piano teacher, I hear a lot about the numerous sports events that sometimes
conflict with my students lesson times. Though this is frustrating for me at times,
I can now identify a bit more with them.

I overhear conversations about playoffs, home or away game schedules and final
scores. Up until now, I could not identify or contribute to these conversations.
Truthfully, I could have cared less.

However, I discovered that living through the journey of being a parent of an
athlete brought me where I never thought it would. It was a combination of thrill,
heartache, exuberance and anxiety. There were the many celebrations over the
victories and comfort was needed after the upsets.

Since high school, I have attended football games, basketball games and even track
meets that I myself participated in where my parents cheered me on. During these
games, I never once considered the fact that there was a parent in the grand
stands holding their breaths as their first born son ran with the ball to first
down and feeling proud that there son had advanced the team. Never once did I
consider the tears of that mom as she saw her daughter who hit the ground after
the ball only to remain on the ground with an injury. Nor did I consider that some
of these parents sacrificed their work schedules and business trips just to be
there to watch their children play. For the first time, we were those parents.

Today, Madeline played volleyball. I saw her play on the court in her blue
uniform, knee pads and very long ponytail with a striped bow. It was a long day as
the tournament included 4 different schools that her team would compete against.
Before the final match they huddled up for their last chant of camaraderie before
playing against an undefeated team. It would be their last game of the season. As
I watched them play I thought about how she always needed two back packs, how my
heart would pound when the ball was headed in her direction and our bonding
experiences as we would hit the drive thru after practice. I remembered the
excitement in our home when she found out she made the team after a long wait on
the night after tryouts and I think there's even an onion left from the fund
raiser.

Her team showed fatigue as the opposing team was intimidating. The final was 25-
12 of which one of the scores was Madi's. A felt a tear in my eye as the last
point was scored. Not because of the loss but that Madi's first volleyball season
was over and her team was second place in Gwinnett county.

                                                                       My Madi

                                                                               #11

Bonfire

                              

I have been told that if kids aren't messy there is probably something wrong with them. I really hope that's true.

If it is, in my case, I have 5 perfectly normal kids. They love to play, eat, cut, color, spill, pee, and kick their shoes off as they please....all of which creates an aftermath that sends me the reminder that I am indeed a parent.

Since I have been having babies between 1999 and 2011, I have learned a few things on the subject of cleaning up.

It's a typical day in our household. The kids are in school while my youngest is home watching Blues Clues. The bills have to be paid, the pantry is empty, no dinner plans yet and then I walk into the living room. Now there are some parents out there who would gasp as they walk into a sea of toys, granola bar wrappers, empty glasses, crayons, paper scraps and socks....even the potty! Well, that should also be my reaction with the added responsibility of reminding my children that their allowance depends on the truth that the issue must be taken care of once they return from school.

As time passes through the day and the kids have been home a while, it's time to break the news. Now if I was a kid and my mom told me to clean the living room in the catastrohic state being as it is, I would probably hit the wii myself after picking up a pair of sock and
maybe one toy.

There was a time where after useless reminders and empty threats, I would become exhausted only to end up doing the job myself. Through experience, I realized that cleaning a mess of this magnitude is very overwhelming. Even I would question where I was supposed to start....until one day, I found a solution!

Since there are usually so many different items that are to be put away in so many different places, the easiest thing to do would be to collect ALL the items and create one big pile in the middle of the room and that's what we did. So the floor is now clear with one large pile in the middle of the room. The thought of lighting it all on fire came to mind but I wouldn't want to traumatize anyone.

So now that half the job is complete and everything is in one place right in front of us helps make it easy to sort and assign a destination to each child. Emma gets the shoes, Laurel gets the toys, and Deidre gets the trash. Keep it up, mission accomplished!

Maybe, just maybe, someday my house may be as tidy as the family's across the street with just 2 kids. I just don't get that worked up it. If you have kids, you have messes. It's just what kids do.

Steve Martin, My Dog, and My Connection to a Reality Star

Having the chance to say that you have met a celebrity in your lifetime can be a remarkable thing. I can't say that it has happened often for me but it has happened.

When I was in my early twenties, I was the music teacher at a Catholic school in Decatur, Georgia. Our school was selected to be a movie set for the movie "A Simple Twist of Fate" starring Steve Martin. Many of my students were extras in the movie and got to meet Steve Martin while I became a homeless music teacher as they used my classroom for prop storage. However, I too was lucky enough to meet Mr. Martin as well as break free from teaching a few classes as scenes were being filmed.

I was so stargazed that I had the nerve to approach Mr. Martin and give him a Dum Dum lollipop as a present. I felt very silly after doing this and I was lucky I didn't get throttled by his crew.

Anyway, I have had very few experiences since that were similar....well...none really. But sometimes in this small world we live in, coincidence is sometimes likely.

Back in 2008, things were changing for the Fair family. I left my job as music director in a small church, we had just moved to a new home, and after the birth of our 4th daughter Laurel, my husband Mike decided he wanted a dog.

We looked in the paper and found a listing for a golden retriever who was in need of a home. We called about it and set up a meet and greet with the provider. Her name was Dee Dee.
Dee Dee arrived on time and we had the chance to meet "Pumpkin." Now sometimes meetings like this are a bad idea because no matter the circumstances, you're likely going to become pet owners after all is said and done.

Dee Dee was a country girl from the small town of Winder Georgia. She had a bubbly personality, was immensly likable and you would probably guess based on her personality that she was an animal rescuer even if you had never even met her before.

Aside from being a bit hyper, Pumpkin seemed like she would be worth a try so we agreed to keep her on a trial basis for a week or so. Dee Dee had spent hundreds of dollars on vaccinations and worm treatments for Pumpkin and even had her fixed. It was evident that she had grown attached to Pumpkin as she cried on the way to her car after saying her goodbyes.

After a weeks time, Pumpkin had destroyed Mike's cell phone, a pair of sunglasses and refused to go outside. She would run furiously through the house as we tried to catch her with the end result leaving several "numbers" on our new carpet. Sadly, it just wasn't working out.

We called Dee Dee and she agreed to gladly take Pumpkin back and informed us of a new arrival in the form of a Bassett hound mix. We sighed as we agreed to meet "Othello." We were getting to know Dee Dee well as this was our second time to meet with her. "Othello" who we later renamed "Bluto" was a much better fit for us. He is very quiet, gentle, and is really more like a cat inside a dogs body as he sleeps about 16 hours a day. Even today the girls say they want a new dog. When we remind them that we already have Bluto they say "But Bluto's boring." We reply by telling them that we like it that way.

You may be wondering at this point what this has to do with Steve Martin and reality stars. With Steve Martin, nothing really, but the story has a twist. Although it has been many years and Bluto is now 6 years old. We have not seen Dee Dee since but whether or not she provided us with a dog, she is one of the few people you meet that just has that unforgettable factor.

A few months back, I came home from teaching like I always do and joined Mike in front of the TV with a glass of wine. Bluto curled up on my lap with his tail slapping the couch while smelling like he needed a bath (which is most of the time). Mike had recorded a new reality show from the Reelz channel that he wanted me to see but didn't say why. The name of the show is called The Hollywood Hillbillies which is about a country family from Georgia trying to adapt to life in Tinseltown starring none other than Dee Dee herself. I was astounded when I discovered this in the opening credits! We never knew what her last name was. We always knew her as just Dee Dee as millions of others do now as well. And needless to say, Dee Dee has not changed.
 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Pilot

Ok. Ok. I don't really know whats gotten in to me but I have just felt the passion to write a lot lately....about anything and everything but nothing in particular. Might be the reason why my laundry is behind.

The reason being is that, well, my life is somewhat like that of a reality show. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it is far from boring and I like it that way. It's not always good but at times very much so....but never boring.

Most of the time life is good. I'm never sick, I love my job, I have a man and a lot of kids, there is food in my pantry most of the time, gas in my car, and a warm bed to sleep in. Sometimes things are hard. I get moody, I yell, things don't get done, money is gone, and bugs are crawling. Lots of bugs! Whatever the situation, I am likely to write about it.

I am not what you would call orthodox. I am 45 years old but I am very immature. I do things like collect vintage toys.... some of which I won't let even my children touch. I go to church every Sunday but still rock out to Led Zeppelin. I am a far winged introvert (not sure if that swings to the left or to the right). Most of my life, I tried to fight this as I thought it was a disorder or something. Today there is no other way I would rather be. I sleep in until 10am some days, with no apologies, and I don't really care which way the toilet paper roll goes. Aside from the vintage toys, I don't really get that worked up about, well, anything.

I have traveled, observed, have learned a lot in life. I have perspective on every small little and my brain never stops. Through it all comes one thing. A story. But sadly, I had not yet found my voice....perhaps until now. I have kept journals all my life. The problem is, I can't read my own handwriting and it is doubtful that anyone else will be able to either. So consider this, if you will, that of an open journal. It may not be read by anyone at all, ever, but that doesn't matter. I take great joy in just letting it be said. 

I hope I can make someone laugh while I, myself, try to laugh my way through the bumps I may find along the remainder of this journey I have not yet traveled. I hope someone can learn something from me. I hope I can offer someone reassurance that no matter what happens everything is going to be okay. I might, just might, even make someone a little mad. It's okay. I know it will all be worth it.

It is September 25th today. I woke up like I do any other day. I wore brown, I ate chicken, and I did the dishes. But today, I will do something I have never done.

3...2...1.......

I'm a writer now....yikes!!


"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a Spirit of power." 2 Timothy 1:7