love – Page 3 – Angel Wheeler

12 months

It’s unbelievable.

It’s inconceivable.

It’s unfathomable.

I’m sitting up in bed with you sleeping soundly beside me, studying your precious face and shaking my head in disbelief. Can this really be true?

One year, Emma Kate. One year.

This time last year, after a serious ordeal of labor and delivery, you made your appearance and have been a joy to me every single day since.

Let me tell you a little about yourself. First off, nearly every recent picture I have of you is blurry because you are on the go all the time. You took your first wobbly steps almost 4 weeks ago, and now you are practically running.

You love songs, books, babies, dogs, fish, cats, bath, outside, and your momma.

You dislike someone trying to feed you, laying still to get your diaper changed, having something taken from you, sleeping alone, and being left with strangers.

You can talk a blue streak. Some new words you began saying this month are juice, more, fish, Elmo, Emma, and no, no, no.

You love to talk on the phone and often have someone’s cell phone up to your ear pretending. You like to put things in little hidey holes too. I opened the pots and pan cabinet and found a sippy cup and found a sock in a cereal box.

A blurry picture of you with your necklace.

Your daddy thinks you might be a girly-girl because you love bracelets and necklaces and wear them around the house. Even if it’s not a “real” necklace, you turn it into one. You were wearing a cell phone cord around your neck, dragging it on the ground the other day, and you’ll put anything on your wrist that’s circular and then walk around holding your arm up so it rests on the crook of your elbow.

You like to watch Elmo’s World and sing the Barney song with your Grandy. When she starts singing, you begin to sway back and forth and give a big hug (with a grunt) and blow a kiss too.

You’re really super affectionate mostly and pat the people you love on the check and give kisses and hugs. But with people you don’t know very well, you are reserved and solemn, barely cracking a smile or interacting, but instead sitting back and watching.

You make us laugh all the time at your new antics. And I love to watch you walk. You have this funny side-step-shuffle with your elbows bent upward. You also learned to drink from a straw this month.

You still only have 6 teeth, your eyes are big and beautiful, you are cute as a bug, and you have learned how to really cry hard when you aren’t getting something you want or something is being taken away from you.

You still don’t sleep all night long, but I guess there’s worse things in life, and we’ll all survive. We’ve made it 12 months so far, I’m sure a few more months won’t kill us.

This past year, you have taught me to love more than I ever knew I was capable of. You have taught me to savor the moments because they vanish so quickly. You have taught me to see the world with the same kind of newness you do, and to adore chubby little bellies and dimpled hands. You are my baby girl. And even though your first year is now behind us, and we are moving into toddlerhood, you will always, always be my baby.

I love you so very much sweet one.

XOXO,

Mama

Birthday Letters

On January 16, 1943 my dad was born. I don’t know anything about his birth. Whether he was born in a hospital or at home. Whether he was a good baby or a tyrant. How much he weighed or if he sucked his thumb.

Today if he were still living, he would have turned 70 years old.

He wrote himself a birthday letter a fews years back. I happen to have a copy.

Jan-1998

Happy Birthday, Bob—–Happy 55 years. A real milestone. I feel like celebrating this b.d., unlike my 30th, which went by unnoticed. Unlike my 40th which went by with hardly a ripple or even my 50th, supposedly the biggie, hardly made a dent on my psyche.

But 55 is the short side of the century mark. So that makes it a milestone in my books, and I’m finally at the age where it makes not a tinkerers damn about anyones books but my own.

A brief synopsis—–I was born into a family of five siblings, a bootlegger father, and my mother was a housewife. My family was mildly dysfunctional to say the least, my parents divorced when I was 11 and my mother struggled to keep her brood together.

I went to High school here in town, finally got laid, got drunk and enlisted in The Marine Corps just a few days after graduation. Spent four years in The Corps, traveled around the world, went to work for various construction companies in West Texas and never once let college cross my mind. Made a lot of parties—-a few friends and generally went around with my heart on my sleeve.

Anne, my wife and I had a wild, roller coaster, wonderful relationship from day one when we met in The Crystal Lounge bar, a downstairs dark, dank place where people drank, fought and loved with equal fervor.

Anne had two boys from a previous marriage that I was too young and dumb to see the joy in. We later had two daughters that have remained the light of my life to this day. The boys have forgiven my shortcomings and remain friendly toward me, too. Thanks boys.

55 years—-that must seem like an eternity to someone in their 20’s or thirties, but to me it has been but a short journey on this meandering train we call life. Meandering, wandering, everlooking for the path of least resistance, just like the nameless creek near Hoover, Texas where I gathered clover blossoms to plait into a braid for Anne’s hair.

~1998~

Happy Birthday Dad—-happy 70th. Two birthdays have now passed since you left us. And lots has happened. I miss you, but it does get easier with time, but there are still days that sadness is all around me, thick as fog. I love you more than I ever have, and I’m so thankful for your writings that you left us. I feel I know you better now than I ever did in real life. I wonder why we feel like we can’t open up to others, and especially the ones who love us most? I know I’m just as guilty.

You were a good dad. That’s probably all you wanted to hear while you were living, and I don’t know if I ever told you. But you were. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

You tried your best, I know that now. It’s certainly not easy being a parent, I know that now too.

I never realized just how tender you were. You were always so tough and big and strong, that I guess I didn’t think about your feelings much. I’m sorry for that.

Thanks for being a number one dad to me. Thanks for supporting me in everything I ever did. Thanks for taking time to spend with me, even if it was laying in the floor taking kissing bets during a bowling tournament on T.V. or skipping rocks on the Illinois. I have fond memories, and those are what I carry with me now. It’s all I’m left with, the memories and your stories.

You’d really love Emma. Sometimes I imagine that you are here and see you laugh at her or hug her close. She reminds me of you sometimes. Especially now as she’s learning to walk. She’s got this stumble about her, that’s very Grandpa-esque. Or sometimes they way she lays while she’s sleeping or a look on her face makes me think of you. You are a part of her.

I know you’re in Heaven and I’m going to be there someday too. It’s good that this life isn’t all we’ve got, isn’t it? So, until we meet again Dad, enjoy yourself, and I’ll do the same. There’s much happiness here still, and memories to make with others.

I love you bigger than Hog Eyes and Sauerkraut Mississippi.

Until then……

Love,

Angel

Just Because

Just because it’s Tuesday (I think).

Just because she’s 9.5 months old (tomorrow).

Just because she hasn’t pulled her hair bow out or her socks off (yet).

Just because she’s been under the weather and today is the first day in nearly a week that she is back to her old self (almost).

Just because before I know it, she’s going to be walking (or driving) (or both).

Just because she’s adorable (totally).

Just because.

9 months

Hey Emma Kate,

You’ve made it nine months so far and boy has the time really flown. You are a such a joy! We are so blessed to have you. You have no idea how much you have enriched our lives. And not just me and daddy, but all of your family.

My heart is so full of love for you sometimes I think it may burst.

You are one of a kind, kid. You have such a determined spirit about you, and there is nothing in this world going to stop you. Remember always to never let obstacles stand in your path.

Sleeping has been a challenge for you, it’s not one of your favorite things to do, but you need it after working so hard all the time. But we’ve made big improvements in your sleeping, even though you still don’t sleep through the night.

You are absolutely out of this world gorgeous. Strangers comment on your beauty all the time, especially your eyes. You have these big, round, dark eyes that just seem to draw people in. The other things people comment on? Your size. You’re not a teeny tiny baby, sister. When they find out how old you are they tell me you are a big baby. You’ve been called a barefoot porkchop even! I think it was a term of endearment, so don’t let it offend you. I sure didn’t. You wear a size 12 months and are sporting a ghetto booty in your jeggings. Now when you read this years down the road, you’ll probably have to ask some old person what that means. Surely our memories won’t be so poor we can’t remember!

You’ve got six teeth. 4 on top and 2 on bottom. Your teeth didn’t come in like they were supposed to, and there for a while, you had fangs.

You’re a big eater too. We never could find a baby food you liked, and you just wanted to take the spoon from us and do it yourself, so we’ve moved on to table food and it seems to be just fine. You feed yourself so well and can even drink from a glass.

I can’t tell you how smart you are, Emma. Sometimes it’s just a little freaky. Your mind works all the time and it’s like we can see the wheels turning. You are constantly trying to figure something out. Your favorite things to play with right now are your baby dolls and books. You love on your babies with pats and kisses and turn pages in your books all the time.

You are pulling up everywhere and this month you decided to start taking a few steps while pushing a walking toy. You are so proud of yourself too when you do something big like that. You grin an infectious smile and look around to make sure someone is watching you. Of course we all are, and we are cheering you on every step of the way. Yea Emma! Go Emma, Go! We always will be. All you’ll need to do is look around and we’ll be right behind you cheering you on!

We have so much to look forward to. God has so blessed me by giving me you and my words will never ever be able to express it fully.

I love you oodles and gobs,

XOXO

Mama

8 months

Hey sweet Emma!

You’re a little doll, dear. As beautiful as ever, and growing so big.

For a while now you’ve been belly crawling, but this month you decided to try out the old hand and knee crawl. It’s still a bit clumsy, and you really only do it when you don’t have a shirt on. I don’t think you like the feel of the hardwood on your belly. But you still prefer the “wounded soldier” crawl and drag one leg behind you. You’re pretty fast at it too! You certainly don’t let many things stop you either, that’s why your daddy calls you his little 4 X 4. It’s so fun watching you explore your new world, and learning to be so independent.

You are pulling yourself up now to every surface that you can reach. The ottoman, the dining room chairs, the toy box, the drawers in the kitchen, and mostly my pant legs. You are a brave little thing, taking one hand off while standing up. You think you are much bigger than you really are. But I love your confidence and hope you always keep it, with humility of course.

Although your only 8 months old, the tag in your clothes says 12 months! Thankfully, you haven’t had to go to the doctor since your 6 month check-up, so we don’t know how much you “officially” weigh, but when we weigh you, our scales here say about 19 pounds.

You have 2 new teeth, but you are a nonconformist, and decided instead of getting your two upper teeth like you’re supposed to, you might as well be a vampire for Halloween, and have cut one fang, and are working on the other.

Have I ever told you how smart you are? Your mind works constantly. You are super observant, and want to know how things work, like your car seat buckle, which I’m afraid you are certainly going to figure out. You are trying real hard to patty cake right now, and I know you understand everything I say. You yourself are a jabber box too. You have all kinds of new sounds, you can say bye-bye and are practicing wiggling your fingers. You talk all the time and I wish I knew your language.

I am trying real hard to be the best mommy I can. Sometimes it’s frustrating because I don’t have an instruction manual for you, and I’m not sure if I’m making the right decisions. Please always know you are loved immeasurably, dear one and I’m always thinking of you.

I love you!

XOXO,

Mama

Feeding the Big Chickens

We recently had a family picnic at the park. It was a beautiful September day and we were in the big city, so we decided to grab a couple burgers and enjoy them under the treetops.

The park has a big lake with walkers and joggers circling it. A few fisherman had cast their poles into the water and were waiting patiently in their lawn chairs. A sweet elderly couple sat at a picnic table, his arm draped around her shoulders, enjoying the day.

We sat right at that other picnic table fighting off the flies. I watched that little old couple and my thoughts turned romantic. I smiled at the idea of how sweet and long-lasting their love is. Like something Nicholas Sparks would write. And then as I eavesdropped a little more, I discovered that they weren’t an old married couple after all, but new companions. He was telling her about the time when he was twelve and they visited Wisconsin. He talked about the war. She asked questions about his former marriage. As we got up to leave, I snapped their picture, glad to know that new love exists. That little white-haired couple lifted my spirits and reminded me that no matter how old you are, there is still time to make new friends.

We saved a little bit of our hamburger buns for the ducks. Is it just me, or do you get a little wigged out when all the ducks start surrounding you, crowding into your space, honking and quacking? I was attacked by a duck once, I guess you could call it that, and ever since that experience, I’ve been a little gun-shy. Or duck-shy.

EK has a way of expressing her delight. She OH’s. When she sees that little black baby boy on the Pamper’s box, she says Oh, Oh, Oh, but drags it out. She Oh’ed at the ducks and the swans. I wonder what her little mind was thinking of those gigantic birds. Maybe something along the lines of “Whoa man, that is one big chicken.”

She was just as curious as they were and when it mistook her bare toes for bread crumbs, she didn’t cry, she just Oh’ed at it.

When all our hamburger buns were either eaten or growing soggy in the water, we took a little stroll around the lake and enjoyed the moment with dreams of many more to come.

Picture Perfect

After we buried my dad February of last year, I drove back to Texas basically with a pickup, plants, and a photograph.

The pickup still sits in front of my yard, longing for a spin around town.

The plants, I’m proud to say, are flourishing.

And the photo sits on a shelf in my dining room.

It was one of his favorites. At one point, being technologically disinclined, he asked my sister to put it as his profile pic on his Facebook page. I don’t know how he expected her to do that, as he had the picture in a frame two states over, but nevertheless.

It’s a tiny picture, maybe a 3 X 5 in a cheap brass frame with parts of the frame chipped. It displays a much younger us.

I remember the day. Thanks to a generous landlord aunt, my sister had recently scored a cheap one bedroom rent house, albeit in need of some TLC. I was helping her paint, when our dad showed up to check on our progress. I’m covered in paint. He’s not. The hat I’m wearing leaves me to question. Was I painting in that hat or was it on his head and I put it on mine? I don’t recall the detail.

On the back, he’s written, “me & ang, yukking it up in ’91”

I can’t remember the exact conversation, but I know it went something like this: my sister holding a camera, my dad draping his arm around me, my sister telling us to say “cheese”, and right before the camera snapped, my dad sucked in his gut, and I busted out laughing.

“Yukking it up in ’91” he called it.

If I’d known then that we had only twenty more years together. Twenty years. It sounds like a long time when you say it, but it sure goes by fast. What would I have done differently? Anything?

Throughout those years, we had many more times of “yukking it up”, and I’m grateful for every one of them.

But I can’t help but wish we could have one right now.

Miss you dad.

6 months

Precious, darling Emma Kate,

Look at you grow, girl! Mama doesn’t even know where to begin telling you about your very busy month. I have so much to say, so I guess instead of starting at the beginning, I’ll just start at the top.

Your hair. It has lightened up some, still brown, and is thick on top and grows in a point like Dracula (just like my dream)but not a scary, blood thirsty Dracula, but rather a beautiful, bright-eyed smooch able baby girl Dracula.

Your teeth. Yep, they’re there. Two shiny white pearls on bottom. Finally. You’ve been a dream teether, you haven’t fussed one bit, but we could feel these little suckers when you were four months old and have been waiting patiently.

With those new toofies you’ve tried some real food.

In your most humble opinion:

Rice cereal= bleck!

Peas= double bleck!

Strawberries= sour bleck! (unlike my dream)

The foods that have received an Emma stamp of approval are peaches, pears, avocado, and squash. We’re trying to keep you away from sugar and junk food, but we did offer you a taste of frozen yogurt, but the cold surprised you so, I’m not sure which list it belongs on.

Your mouth. It’s so sweet, and you have the best smiles to give. You are not much of a laugher, but full of grins. You can make ma-ma, da-da, bye-bye sounds! And holy cow you are loud! We tease you that you got that from your grandy.

Your butt. You are sitting alone for really long periods of time, when just a couple weeks ago you were a weeble wobble on a round butt. Now you’re an old pro.

Your Legs. They are fat! But those thunder thighs aren’t slowing you down. You are moving and scooting! You use your elbows and one leg to pull and drag yourself around. But that left leg is like a dead man’s, just dragging around behind you.While I’ve been typing, you have gone to the kitchen, gotten into the potatoes and onions, drug yourself around to the fridge, then back to the potatoes. Lazy is NOT your middle name. You are simply amazing and are taking the world by storm.

Cankles? Yep, you got them.

Your toes. Oh my goodness, I love to get those piggies because they taste so sweet.

That’s you from top to toes, baby girl. You are our delight. It has been so much fun loving you the last six months. Gosh, you’ll never know how adored you are. I mean that. Completely, Totally, Altogether, Absolutely ADORED and LOVED from top to bottom.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, my dear one. I love you!!

XOXO,

Mama

Outside

Our baby girl loves it outside.

No matter the mercury reading, she hasn’t learned to complain about the heat yet.

We haven’t cut her hair to look like a mohawk on it’s way to growing out, it’s just the way her hair, well is growing out. Possibly one of the reasons she’s mistaken for a boy frequently.

The chickens are as curious about her as she is of them. But everyone’s on their best behavior so far. No pecking or feather pulling have occurred.

I just love everything about her. The birth mark on her forehead that reminds me of Australia, those lovely long eyelashes framing her deep brown eyes, the way she smells like “outside” after only a few minutes. But heck, so do I. Even the little skinned place beside her nose where her fingernails got her.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget her two brand spanking new pearly whites.

In Memory of my dad—number forty something

The green spiraled journal draws me in.

It belonged to my dad.

The very first thing I bought when I became an adult was a storage building. It sits on my mom’s property (once upon a time it was my grandmother’s property) and my dad put a few boxes of belongings in there nearly twenty years ago. In one of the boxes was this journal.

On the cover he has printed:
The Journals of Robert Lee—-soldier, statesman, author.

It is filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his disappointments, his memories.
Stuffed between the written pages he has a few cards from loved ones, pictures of my sister and I, and bills from the IRS.

I love this journal, although it is mostly sad. He wrote when he was going through a very difficult time, of which I was completely unaware, but heck I was a kid then, barely out of high school, and completely wrapped up in my own life.

I discover that I didn’t really know my dad. But who really did?

He hurt more than I know, and I don’t mean physically.

Today is the 15th of April, 1996. Tax Time for most folks, but to me it is different. Today I join the ranks of the homeless. I haven’t learned a lot in my 53 short years aboard this planet, but I’ve learned this, we are just a short journey from this predicament that I find myself in right now. It’s a feeling that I don’t wish on friend or foe, but I’ll come out of the water bushed and gasping of air, out of breath and hoping for a low hanging limb from which this wrecked body needs just a minute to catch it’s breath. Then I’ll fight onward, searching for new friends, looking in familiar haunts for a few old compatriots, who’ll say—welcome ol’ shoe, come sit awhile and rest.

April 18, 1996—
It’s not good being homeless, but I have been getting reacquainted with my mother. Before I was always in a hurry when I went to see her, but now we are taking the time to talk to each other. Today we spoke of my grandparents, the last who died in 1975. I wish that I could have gotten to know them.

As I reread this journal, no as I pore over his words, I get the “missing my dad blues”. The “If only’s” The “I wish”. It doesn’t help that its a rainy day in July either. Much like my dad wrote on the page he titled, “July or is it June 27?”

I moved into my new digs yesterday. Went to the store and bought boloney and beer. It’s a cloudy, dismal day, in fact I’ll call this place “The Dismal Swamp” It’s a dump, held together with spit n’ glue, but at least the neighbor’s are nice—which means that they don’t bother me or even come out of their own hovels. I’m into Charles Bukowski, poet, short stories, novels, drinker extraiordinairre. Life is good as we let it be.

He was phenomenal with the written word.
Dawn comes on a silvery black flash that gently turns to a pale blue as the sun makes it’s ascent into the morning sky. Departure time is steadily approaching and I feel a twinge of excitement as the clock ticks onward toward the time of making my exit. My brother warned me about this happening, he said, “don’t let one year turn into ten” when I first moved here for just a year. Well, June marks the 10 year span that I’ve spent here in Green Country. I can see the changes here in Okla. that have occurred since coming here. Mainly, traffic flow, the driving here is atrocious. But that does not take from the few close friends that I have made here. I’ll always appreciate them.

He was funny.
“Guess I’ll go by leon’s house and see if he wants to go fishing with me n’ doc tomorrow—-it is the fourth of July and we do live in the bosom of democracy, so why not fish. Uh Oh. Outta beer. So I’ll take to task the advice of my ol’ mentor and friend, Horace Greely—-Go West—-about 2 miles—–the have Busch on sale.”

11-19-96
Keeping a journal and trying to keep sounding interesting is so boring.

Yes, dad I agree with that one whole heartedly! He continues…..

My life is boring, but the mundane way of life is peaceful. Living quiet has it’s own reward.

He got lonesome and had regrets.

Nov. 24, 1996
I dreamed of Jo and Angel night before last. They were small and cuddly and we laughed and played. I awoke all discombobulated and out of sync. It’s good to dream old dreams. I miss the girls so much. I hope Angel is doing all right out there in the west. She is so private it’s hard to find out anything from her. Joley has John so I don’t worry about her so much. Joley is my little mother. I know that she will see to it that I am taken care of. I hope that I never need it tho. I’m sorry now that I didn’t know how to love the girls’ mother. Hindsight has perfect vision. But I just didn’t know, and for that I am sorry.

Jan. 13, 1997
I’m lonesome and being broke don’t help. I’d visit an axe murderer if he’d stop by my digs.

Although these notes are sad and some remorseful, I receive peace when I read them. I know how much my dad loved me. There was never a time I doubted that. He wrote of it many times. His heart was full of love.

I am the proud father of 4 children. Two boys and two girls. How this mixed blessing came about, I’m not exactly sure. It just came at me out of the blue, kinda like a fighter with a good left hook.

I also receive comfort knowing I’ll see him again.

Feb 7th or 8th
I know God is my friend and I hope he lets me hang around for a few years.

Thanks God for the years.

There’s more. There’s lots more. But I’ll leave you with that for now. I don’t think my old pop would mind me sharing this. It helps me, and I know there are family and friends who miss him terribly. I hope it helps them too. Sometimes we just want to hear from our loved ones one more time and this is the way that I do that. When I read these words, I hear his voice. I see the twinkle in his eye. I see him throw his head back when he thought something was funny, yet keeping his laugh inside and quiet.

I see him in my baby girl too, little bits of him. There are times I wish he could see her, but then I remember…..I’m pretty sure they’ve already met.