Astrology Reports

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

That Seat is Wet With Dood!

Though you can’t tell from the photo, in front of the rail is a lower deck. What you see is the pool’s upper deck. My son-in-law built both the upper and lower decks, and both decks have the same type of furniture, except that the lower deck has a U-shaped couch. One morning I sat on the lower deck with my grandson, Nolan, 7, who told me that we couldn’t sit on the upper deck lounge furniture because of Dude. 

Nobody was sitting up there, so I knew he didn’t mean a person. I figured that he was probably talking about a thing.

“Dood?” I asked him, “What’s Dood?”

I could see by the look in his eyes that he expected me to apologize for not knowing what Dood was. I know – Grandmas can be so frustrating sometimes. But he politely refrained from saying anything derogatory.

“You know what it is,” Nolan taught me, “it’s that wet stuff that gets on things.” I remembered finding bird poop on one of their lounges, but the outdoor couches were supposedly easy to clean, so I figured that he must have meant something else.

“Huh,” I responded, rummaging through my brain cells to find something that meant the same thing and sounded similar. I thought that maybe my grandson was channeling Norm Crosby for a minute. “Aha! (it sometimes takes a while for those synapses to connect) You mean, Dew? Like the dew that gets on grass in the morning? Dew? Dew?”

Somehow his mind went on a tangent and he began to laugh. “No!” And then one of us (could have been me) said, “Doo Doo!” And Nolan erupted with more laughter. Then I started to laugh and he laughed harder and I laughed even harder. And we got silly and just kept laughing (I love moments like those).

After I was able to calm down, I explained to him that I was not talking about poop, and I spelled D-E-W for him. I sincerely love honest heartfelt belly laughs.

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Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Driving On Empty Two Miles from Home

When I got my first car, I think I was about 19. It was an OLD car, and nobody told me how to take care of it. Car maintenance? What's that? Don't you just put gas in it occasionally? When people don't teach you about things with which you've never had any experience, you tend to run out of gas, have the engine blow due to lack of oil, or experience all kinds of mishaps.

But when you become an adult, you know how to take care of your car – usually – unless something mysterious happens. Please read, 0 Miles to E – OH MY! to find out what happened when I had to pray my way to the gas station driving on empty for two miles.

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Monday, June 16, 2014

Kids Excel in Understanding Facial Expressions

Do you ever wonder if, when babies grow up, even though they succeed in understanding higher brain functions, they lose some of their intuitive factors as they age? 

Unless adults are adept in the art of physiognomy and phrenology, they may not read people better than kids do. Babies, because they have no knowledge yet of word meanings, intuit situations based on facial expressions and body language. Unfortunately, though, as they grow, they spend more time expanding their vocabularies and knowledge base than they do on developing their intuition. Another sad factor is that parents sometimes dismiss their children’s interpretations of what is going on around them. 

Because I started babysitting early in my life, I’ve been watching children respond to their environment and situations occurring around them since I was a teenager. I’ve noticed that babies and toddlers express themselves instantaneously. Older children, probably because parents admonish them for their behavior, suppress their emotions and keep them in check. But if they’re lucky, they’ll hold onto that part of themselves that allows them to read a face and understand body language. 

One recent weekend, while I attended a graduation for one of my granddaughters, I had an opportunity to observe a child’s understanding of facial expressions first-hand. I rarely get to see some of my grandchildren who live far away from me, so I’m very excited when I get to spend even a little time with them. When 6-year-old Zac sat next to me at the counter at his sister’s party, I grabbed him and hugged him and told him I was so happy to see him. Actually, what I said was, “Do you know that I am so happy to see you?”

He responded, “Yes,” so I said in my teasing grandma tone, “Oh, yeah? How do you know that?” And he replied, “Because when you looked at me you had a big smile on your face.” He made such a simple observation and he expressed it so well. 

When I later thought about his comment, I remembered peering into the faces of all the people who played important roles in my life – parents, siblings, husbands, children, grandchildren, friends, teachers, coworkers – and I remembered the ones who looked happy to see me. I also remembered the ones who looked at me with disgust, and then denied that their expressions revealed the truth about how they felt about me.

I’ve learned that for whatever reason, some people like me; some people, even those who are related to me through marriage or “friendship,” don’t. What I’ve reminded myself to do is to trust my instincts. I may not always be a good judge of character, because I like to believe everyone is as trustworthy as I am, but I do instinctively understand facial expressions and body language. I’ll admit I’ve been disappointed and hurt on more than one occasion, because I genuinely WANT to trust everybody, but if someone looks at me with a gnarl of disgust oozing from his lips, and I’m paying attention, I know how he feels.

I’m glad my grandson could read my expression. I’m sure I radiated happiness from deep within my soul, because I truly was so happy to see him and his sister and brother. I like to think I greet all of my loved ones with a smile on my face, because I believe that when people know you’re happy to see them, they feel loved. Maya Angelou once said that children should know, when they look into your eyes, that they are loved. I’ve always tried to follow her advice. No matter what is going on in my life, I don’t bring my problems and concerns with me when I’m with my kids or grandkids. I bury it in my soul so far that when they look into my eyes, all they see is my love for them.

What do your kids see when they look into your eyes?

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Thursday, May 8, 2014

And the Winner is…Grandma!

looking for dirt, sand, or wood chips

One giant and beautiful park near my daughter's home offers kids 3 sets of playground equipment and it has ball fields for baseball and softball practice and games. Since I had to go out for diapers yesterday and Dollar General was only a couple of blocks from the park, I decided to take 2-year-old Avery to the park while her brother and sister were in school instead of just playing with her in her back yard. In the back yard, though she doesn't know how much fun she'll have in it yet, sits a giant pool awaiting a deck, a trampoline she enjoys jumping on, and a pile of dirt she calls a mountain, where she loves to play.
found a cubby hole under the play equipment
where she could play with the wood chips – in the shade

We generally play in the back yard or go for walks in the neighborhood, but yesterday we went to the giant park – where she played in the sand – and the dirt – and the wood chips. All kinds of play equipment, like slides and swing sets and ride-on toys were spread throughout the park, and Avery chose the sand, the dirt, and the wood chips.
OOH! Lots of wood chips!

When it was time to go home for lunch, however, though she happily trotted off to the car, she refused to get into her car seat. She can be very stubborn and I knew that if I demanded her to get into her car seat, she would throw a fit, so I calmly sat in the driver's seat while she jumped into the front seat with me. When she reached for the water bottle, I grabbed it first and told her, "Remember what I said – you can have it after you get into your seat." 
and a sand box

She started to cry, asked for a tissue, and then looked at me – wondering if I was serious, I think, about having to wait for the water. 2-year-olds test their limits and I could see that mind of hers trying to figure out what her next step would be. I wasn't giving in and she knew it. The breeze blowing through the window felt wonderful and I had the foresight to park under a tree so we were in the shade. Unfortunately, though our winter was long, we had only 2 weeks of Spring and now it's Summer already. So I rested my head back on the seat and I could tell Avery knew I would have stayed there all day if necessary.
playing the other day on her back yard "mountain"

I said not another word about her climbing into her car seat, but out of the corner of my eye, after several minutes, I watched her climb into the back seat. The rear view mirror told me she was in her seat, ready to be buckled in. I climbed out, grabbed the water bottle, put it on top of the car, buckled Avery into her seat, and then handed her the bottle of water.

Grandma wins again ;)

Sunday, April 27, 2014

A Memory From the 1980s

As I was sifting through all the contents in my home, downsizing, ridding my home of junk, and looking at memories unfold before me, I came across this note I'd written a long, long time ago:

In the early morning hours, the Wiza home is still, except for the rustling sound in Mom's closet. There in all her splendor, is 4-year-old Lindsey, replete with a hat, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings, rummaging through all of my shoes. She is trying to locate that one pair that will complete her ensemble. For some reason, she always chooses the same pair of shoes.

She makes her way into the family room where her brother, Greg, who is around 3, is busy pretending to repair all the furniture with his toy screwdriver. Lindsey speaks into her phone, "Hold on," then flings the phone over her shoulder and tells Greg, "We're going to play house and you're going to be the dad."

Greg places the screwdriver in his mouth and looks like a dog chewing on a bone. "I don't want to be the dad," he tells Lindsey. "I want to be the dog."

Brittney, the baby, hobbles into the room, sucking on her pacifier and clinging to her cloth diaper. She allows her older sister to place a hat on her head as Lindsey puts Brittney into the doll stroller. With the phone hanging over her shoulder, Lindsey complains to me, "Greg won't be the dad and I want him to be the dad."

Greg is now barking around Lindsey's feet, and Brittney is laughing, even with the pacifier in her mouth. I call out from the kitchen, "You can't make somebody do something he doesn't want to do."

Just then Keeley, their much-older sister, returns from high school and everybody hugs her and then follows her to her bedroom, which is a mess – mountains of clothes heaped in piles next to her bed.

I tell Keeley that I want her to clean her room.

Lindsey puts her hands on her hips and says, "Mom, you can't make somebody do something she doesn't want to do."

Everybody turns toward me to look for my reaction. After a long time, I say in my humorous sarcastic tone, "I KNOW! Let's throw all of our clothes all over the house!"

Keeley looks at me as if my brains had just fallen out of my head. Then Brittney picks up a pair of Keeley's jeans and places them in the hamper. Greg picks up a pair with his teeth and drops them into the hamper as well. Pretty soon, Keeley's room is straightened, and all of us helped. 

Well, except for Lindsey who thought she might break a nail. I plop down on Keeley's bed and smile. "This room looks great!" Then Brittney climbs on my lap and smiles. "I comfortable. I could stay here forever and ever."

Greg nuzzles up to me, and Keeley and Lindsey sit down to admire the room.

Seems like all that happened a lifetime ago. And if you're reading this at the age of 27 or 28, I guess it was.

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Saturday, March 8, 2014

My Stubborn Mother

I love my mother, but...(and no, Dr. Phil, making a statement and including a "but" doesn't always erase everything before the "but"). Read Oh, MY MOTHER! to find out why.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Where's My Mommy/Grandma Manual?

Situations like what happened yesterday give me pause for reflection. I remember events that occurred when my kids were young and instead of responding appropriately, I burst out with laughter.

For the first time yesterday, I caught my 2-year-old granddaughter lying to me. We had been playing with the empty paper towel holder, talking into it, listening as the other spoke into it, peering at each other's eyes, nose, and mouth, etc. Well later, I saw it on the carpet and you can see by the photo Avery's little teeth marks, so I asked her, "Avery, how did this get wet?"

Avery shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know."

I said, "Yes, you do know. How did it get wet?" She pointed to the sink and said, "It got wet," which was supposed to indicate that somehow the paper towel holder had made it into the sink and the sink had bitten it. Memories of my own kids' childhoods flashed before my eyes. I scolded my mouth, "Don't smile! Don't smile! Don't you even think about laughing!" 

But my mouth disobeyed me and I broke up laughing. Later I watched her grab her brother's book bag, throw it into the bathroom, and shut the door.

I think we're in trouble.

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The History of You