Two of my favorite places

I have to admit that my favorite place is the beach. I did really enjoy the Outer Banks this year, but really any beach will work. Everyone just seems happier at the beach. I love to sit with my toes in the sand, close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the boys playing with the ocean waves in the background. And when I open my eyes, the view is fantastic! Sky, sun, waves with the sillhouette of two boys digging, running and even sometimes rolling in the sand. I would go to the beach every day if I could. I always enjoy our weeks there!

My second favorite spot is the hammock in our yard. It isn't a fancy, expensive hammock, just one that my mom gave us after we were married from Wal-Mart and designed for camping trips. It is so comfortable that I would pit it against something fancy any day. My hammock hangs in the tulip poplar tree 'forest' that we left when we built the house. Back then, it was a cluster of hundreds of 5-foot tall weeds. We chose a dozen or so to keep when we cleared for the yard. Now they are very tall and provide a great canopy over the sandbox. They are even big enough to shade the swingset. And, although I don't get a lot of opportunities to lay in it at length, I love to come home from work, lay in the hammock, close my eyes and listen to the kids playing.

Unlike a once a summer beach vacation, the hammock is available from spring to fall. In the spring I can look directly at the sky, in the summer the green leaves shade me on the hottest of days, and in the fall the boys and I count the yellow leaves as they flutter to the ground. It is like my 'staycation' open every day for a few minutes of rest and it provides a great view!

Dentist

I like working outside the home. I think that fact is true because there is a certain amount of predictibility to it. That is saying a lot because I work three days a week in a job that deals with the general public. But I have found that there are times when I just cannot predict the reaction my kids will have to a situation, no matter how much preparation I try to put into it.

When Trent was three I scheduled his first dentist appointment. For weeks prior to the appointment we read books about going to the dentist. Each evening I would brush his teeth with him leaned back on my lap while I did my best to make the same sounds the electric tootbrush makes. We talked about it all the time. And, when we got there he refused to open his mouth. Flat out refused. He wasn't mean about it, he didn't cry, he just wouldn't open his mouth. Our dentist was great about it and let him ride in the chair and we left with another appointment scheduled for six months later. On the way home, Trent told me that he had overheard Pappy and I talking about how his dentist pulled out a tooth. Because he liked all his teeth, Trent was not willing to give our dentist a chance to snag one. Since that visit, it has been smooth sailing for Trent at the dentist, but I thought I had totally prepped him for that visit, but I was wrong.

Ian's first dentist appointment was on Monday. And I realized last week that it was coming. There wasn't time for weeks of discussion so my prep this time consisted of a chat with Trent on Monday morning. I asked him to volunteer to take the first appointment, noting that Ian may feel more comfortable watching how it all worked before trying it out himself. When we got to the office, I began filling out the new patient information as the boys talked about the waiting area. Suddenly Ian said, "I'm going first." Which, of course, led to an argument about who would really take that first appoinment. I stepped in and explained to Trent that we should let Ian choose. (And after that didn't work, I threatened to buy him a pink Barbie backpack for school. Fine parenting at its best.)

Shortly after our 'discussion,' the hygenist walked to the waiting area and when SHE asked who would like to take the first appointment Ian stood up, walked right up to her and said, "I would like to take the first one please." After I picked myself up off the floor, I watched as he followed her through the door and out of my sight. Every so often I could hear him answering questions and then he appeared again with his dentist goody bag in hand, smiling from ear to ear. Trent gladly paraded through the door next while Ian told me all about 'that girl' and her magic chair, water gun, mouth sucker thing, and the orange toothpaste he had picked. He also requested to take another turn when Trent was finished.

When Trent came back I got the full report. No cavities for either boy and four loose teeth for Trent! We headed to Target so they could enjoy their reward...new backpacks! A Toy Story backpack for Ian and a Star Wars one for Trent. OK, so at least I could have predicted that!

The Summer Concerts

I remember that chaotic staff meeting in the spring of 2005. Our recreation coordinator had unexpectedly resigned and we were trying to divide his job responsibilities. Spring time at a Parks & Recreation Department is like the calm before the storm and, with our limited staff, it was important to get organized quickly. I volunteered to work on the summer concert series figuring it would be a fun way to spend some time in the park with Trent.

And so it began. And every Thursday evening at 7pm since then, basically from the end of school until school starts again, we go to War Memorial Park. Sometimes I pack dinner and sometimes we stop and pick up something. But, generally, we have a picnic in the park, greet the band, and then the boys run and play until it ends. We clean up and head back over the mountain. Two sweaty, greasy, tired boys, each with a cup of water for the ride home.

This summer I feel like we have truly arrived. I can send the boys to play on the equipment where I can see them and spend a few minutes talking with our sponsors or the bands. I even get to sit on a bench and visit with my dad who usually comes to hang out with us. The park is filled with the sounds of kids laughing and music playing. It wasn't always so relaxing though. There have been hot summers with someone in diapers, or in a hot stroller, or being held because he couldn't walk yet. There were potty accidents and tantrums, bottles and spit ups. Sticky kids who just wanted to go home. Back then I counted the concerts and week by week I celebrated that I could check another one off the schedule.

Then there was the summer when I was going through treatment and was too weak to chase a 5-year-old and 16-month-old through the park on the summer nights. My co-worker and good friend, Aly, volunteered to take over until I was up to it again. I remember passing the park on a Thursday night. As I was wondering if we would ever be able to attend them again, Trent got upset because he realized we had been missing the concerts. I remember how he kept repeating, 'but mom, we need to play in the park, it's Thursday.' It was on that night that I cried going home over the mountain. And it was that night when I realized what a fun opportunity those Thursday night concerts offered to me. It had become my time to visit with my dad and be with my kids. A sort of date night. Thursdays at 7pm. All summer long.

Since then, I get a little excited in February when I start working on sponsors and booking bands. I look forward to Thursdays because the kids get so worn out and they have so much fun. Tomorrow is concert number 8 of 12 and I have to admit that I am sad that we are getting so close to the end of our Thursday night dates. It is going to be a hot night in the park and we are feeding and greeting the United States Army Cruisers Band. It will be warn and sticky, but the lifeguards have offered the kids the option to join swim lessons to cool off. We will play mini-golf, the kids will ride the merry-go-round (or merry-go-around) until they make ME feel dizzy, they will make friends and play, and help JD put the barricades away. Then we will head back home, over the mountain as the sun sets with two sweaty, greasy, tired boys in the backseat with a cup of water each. And I will think about how wonderful it has been to spend Thursday evenings in War Memorial Park with them.

Laugh and the world laughs with you....

I remember that night in the car, but the details of the day are still a little fuzzy. I had just had my first round of chemo and, because I felt terrible, Brad had stayed home from work to take care of Trent and me. After I ate breakfast I started feeling better so I asked Brad to take Maggie to the vet while Trent and I laid down for his morning nap.

As the day wore on, I started running a fever, feeling very tired and battling bouts of nausea. The fever got so high that we called the oncologist at Hopkins who said she would call in a prescription, but warned that if the fever remained high, I would have to spend the night at the hospital. Brad went to pick up the medicine and shortly after the phone rang. I was propped on the couch holding Trent when the vet technician said, ‘Mrs. Saylor, Maggie is in renal failure and nothing we have tried has worked. She is really suffering and the vet recommends putting her to sleep.’ I knew I couldn’t let her die alone in the vet office surrounded by strangers so I told her I would be right there. I called my brother and my dad to see who was closest to my house and could watch Trent. Then I called Brad.

Although Brad thought that driving across Berkeley County in the pouring November rain while his wife had a raging chemo fever to sit with a cat while it died was nuts, he relented and we were on our way. The entire way there all I could think of was Maggie. On a search for a companion for my other cat, Madison, I had gone to the animal shelter three years before looking for a kitten. When the shelter volunteer reached to the back of the cage and pulled a tiny furry kitten, it was over. She was mine. She was such a fun animal and, for a cat, was full of personality. Days before she had started getting sick and, in the chaos of a new baby, doctors appointments, scans, and chemo, I just mopped up the messes and tried to keep an eye on her.

They brought Maggie to us and I sat and rubbed her head and told her she was a good cat and that I had loved her. And then, she was gone. It wasn’t until we were in the car on the way home that I realized how hot my cheeks really were and how much those tears stung. The rain continued to pelt the windshield so hard that we had to drive slowly on the Interstate. Then it happened. Brad started laughing. Not, just a little giggle or a chuckle but truly laughing. I could not imagine what in the heck was wrong with him. He looked at me and said, “Well, if you were ever wondering what being at the bottom of the barrel feels like, I think we are getting pretty close. You are sick with cancer of all things, our house is under construction minus the top of the roof, it has been pouring down rain all day, these bills are outrageous, and now we are driving home with a dead cat in a box on the backseat.” And then I started laughing too.

There have been several times over the last eight years that we have laughed because that is what we do.

I remember what my mom said to me on the day Brad and I were married, “there will be days when you two don’t see eye to eye and there will be times when you don’t really even like each other very much, but I really believe that you and Brad will take care of each other and will be there for each other until death do you part.”

Of course, she was right. Happy 8th Anniversary Brad!

Happy 4th!!

When I was little I remember picnics and sparklers. When we moved to Martinsburg, I remember our high school neighborhood kids setting off fireworks on the road outside our house. (We spent the rest of the summer calling them the 'firecracker gang'!) As kids, our parents would take us to the hill by the hospital where we would watch the Martinsburg City fireworks with the same group of people each year. As we got older, my brothers were usually playing baseball allstars around July 4th so we would picnic with friends and head out to the ballfield! When I was a teenager I got a job at the concession stand at the park, and then July 4th meant a 12-hour work shift. As a college student, it meant that the summer was going by way too quickly!

There are a few years in my adult life when July 4th held special memories:

In 1999 I was house-hunting as I prepared to transfer back to Martinsburg from Charleston. In 2000 Brad and I were dating and went to New York City with my brother Don, my cousin Becky, and her then boyfriend Nate...those were some great fireworks! July 4th 2001 I was sitting in the park with my mom getting frustrated as she talked about which DJ to use for the wedding. We weren't engaged yet, and it turns out I was the only one in the conversation who didn't know that the ring was on its way. July 4th 2002 we had a picnic at the townhouse a guests started rolling in for our wedding! And, July 4th 2003 was Trent's first holiday. He was three weeks old.

Since that cluster of eventful July 4th, we have spent them with family or friends swimming, eating and watching fireworks. Yesterday we went to church, visited with my dad, then went to Brad's parents house to swim with the boys and beat the heat! Then we enjoyed a wonderful cookout, the kids played and we headed home for some sparklers!

Happy Birthday America and special thanks to all the men and women in our armed forces who sacrafice to give us July 4th year after year!