Mother Tucker

Since the purchase of our pooch, Byron, 3 years ago, dog parks have been an active part of our weekly . . . if not . . . daily lives.   He is, as you probably are already aware, a Parson Russell Terrier . . . also known as a Jack Russell (I’m not sure if “Russell” is spelled with 2 L’s or not, who cares).  Jacks are notoriously high energy, they were bred that way for fox hunting purposes.  We are the idiots that bought a high energy breed of dog but now he has wormed his spring-like self into the center of our hearts . . . so he’s stuck with us.

Since the big move to Salemland we had yet to find a loverly dog park to take our exercise deprived animal, to wear out him adequately.  No amount of walks or jogs can squelch the amazing resilience of his Jack energy. But dog parks take a little bit of it out of him, thankfully.

3 weeks ago we found one.  A dog park.  25 acres of leash-less abound! So many dogs, so many acres of green grass to romp, pee, and poop . . . but mostly romp.  And it is so spread out that I don’t mind the kiddos walking on the bark paths with us, instead of squashed in the stroller to watch the going ons.  So, in a fashion, its a dog and kid park.

And, thankfully, summer is slowing taking over, so the weather has been oh so nice!

Here are some pictures of the outing yesterday, late afternoon.  We’ve been multiple times but I managed to remember my camera . . . and I managed to remember to take pictures once we arrived.

Setting out for a walk around 25 acres of off-leash glory!!

Byron, Tobias and Samuel . . . in the lush scenery.

Tobias, growing up . . . so good looking. I’m not biased in any way though.

Samuel at the dog park. Didn’t have time to edit this one before the real live Samuel woke up from naptime.  And now that he’s sitting on me, fresh from a nap, I’m going. He’s good looking too, by the way.

I always thought I was adventurous.  Hey, I had traveled to Africa . . . lived in the ghettos of the outskirts of Nairobi . . . met and fell in love with a people  and land that I will never ever forget . . . a life altering experience (with God’s grace and protection).  I’ve experienced 50 mile endurance races . . . on horseback, that is . . . taking place on land and with people I knew nothing of; just colored tagging ribbons to light the non-path.  I’ve scuba dived and will continue to scuba dive the open ocean with my hunk of a husband. Fear has never been a strangle hold for me . . . as I know loved ones have dealt with. Don’t get me wrong . . . I’m not a daredevil, but I don’t mind indulging in the unknown, etc; and I definitely definitely have my limits!!

We move to Salem, Oregon and I am paralyzed in my apartment.  I ventured out in my own neighborhood . . . I have driven all of ten miles to a nice park on the edge of the Willamette University Campus . . . but I haven’t made an effort, at all, to get to know the city in which we’ve chosen to reside for the 3 years of Justin’s schooling.

Yesterday Justin and I went to South Salem . . . which seems much nicer than the area I live (which scares me in part. . . what was that about fear?) and enjoyed an immense park (like 900 acres).  They have an off-leash dog park area, consisting of 25 of those acres! Nice! Byron got to run about willy nilly and the boys had a chance to also wear themselves out quite nicely (reason for the early nap today)  . . . so we will be back there soon. And, of course, I forgot my camera.

But it hit me that, by summer, I need to have scouted out hiking opportunities, walking paths, swimming areas and hang outs that don’t require us to be on busy streets.  I might have to put my explorer hat on and take on the task.  Not ‘might’ . . . I have to . . . or I will go nuts holed up in my tiny area of Salem with very little to do.

Thats all I got to say about that.  I miss Eugene, mostly because I knew where stuff was . . . hiking, swimming, etc . . . but there is an excitement with figuring out new areas, getting lost, finding my way, etc.

God Bless!

My sexy sweet man came home at 3:30 yesterday afternoon . . . surprising us all.  Midnight is more likely the time that I see him come in. And as tired and beat down as he felt, he showered, got dressed  . . . while I was slapping on makeup and dressing the kiddos . . . and we headed out.  We got mexican food and ate way too much . . . hung at the park with the kids and, as the sun set, we headed to DQ for icecream magical goodness.  After the boys went to sleep we just hung out laughing at random crap on You Tube and fell asleep peacefully around 11 or so . . . I really don’t keep a timeline on my day . . . I’m mostly guessing.

I enjoyed it thoroughly . . . thanks, partially, to this awesome spring time sunshine we’ve been getting! And warm, nice!!

My plants have started to sprout, the ones left from last year. The ones I thought were goners for sure . . . but lo and behold they liveth!

Ah, thats it folks . . . I write too much here . . . but its all good, right?  Remember that saying . . . I’ve always always thought it obnoxious  “Its all good.” And you have to say it with an southern accent. Special. So many special things coming from my generation.

Mums alive!! 

Hi, I’m on break, which means the kids are peacefully sleeping away in their cribs for nap.  :)  I do love this time, its rejuvenating in a lot of ways.

I’ve talked to my mother multiple times today, the first being her waking me at 7:30am to let me know dad was going back for surgery at that very moment. Ok, sleep was not coming back after that so I slowly made my way to the kitchen to make coffee and do some praying. I was more anxious than I thought I would be but could not get my dad off my mind, I ended up praying a lot! Then I called her around 10am, he was still in surgery. Thats normal, I was mostly checking on her status; my bro, Billy, was with her so I worried less. Then she called me around 11:20am and he was out of surgery . . . everything went fine, though they ended needing to bypass 5 arteries, instead of 4 . . . but it still went very smoothly and he’s sedated in ICU right now.  The 24 hours after surgery is the most crucial.  Strokes can happen, not to mention other potential difficulties . . . so they keep a super close eye on him for a day or two.  Then he will start his recovery in the hospital for a few days then go home, probably Wednesday or Thursday of next week.  Its a painful recovery, from what I gather, so please keep praying that God just speeds recovery and gives my dad the grace to deal.  HE is faithful, so I’m not worried, just want to keep him in prayer.

Wow, I think thats all I have to say about that. Nothing new here. Justin is off taking a day of leisure scuba diving with a buddy of his today.  He loves to dive! So I hope he’s having the time of his life! He works so hard I’m glad he gets to just take off today! Though I have to say he’s diving a bay up by Tillamook and the name sounds like retard . . . so I’ve been calling it retard bay, I think its native American and it seems that its Negard bay or something but its waaaaay to close to retard . . . thats too bad.   I told him not to get retarded in retard bay. haa haa I crack myself up!

Ok, not that funny  . . . guess I’m going now.

God Bless!

Mom, dad, Tobias (26 months old), Samuel (8 months old) and cousin Braxton (15 months old) . . . see, my dad is a handsome dude! :)  

My main sources of exercise, prior to children, was jogging and hiking.  With pregnancy I slacked a lot! So I’m a bit out of shape but walking is still my favorite form of getting fresh air, whether it be on a wooded hillside, down a well known bike path or alongside a busy parkway; the latter is the option when walking from my current residence . . . not my favorite but it works and it keeps the boys’ attention due to the amount vehicles, big rigs, motorcycles, and anything else that rolls on wheels with an engine to mobilize it.  This is to Tobias’ great fascination and keeps the whining about sitting for so long to a minimum.  And by the way its situated, there is plenty of land between the busy road and our vulnerable pedestrian state and Byron is allowed to meander aimlessly on his extend-a-leash contraption due to no grumpy human lawns to poop on and the dodging of the multitudes.  If I could just block out the mass amounts of traffic whizzing by at 60 mph.

Tobias, always camera ready and Samuel . . . they’re hangin’ while mom gets a jaunt of exercise in.  Hard life, that! 

Byron loves these outings more than anyone else, and that’s saying something!  Thank goodness for person that invented the extend-a-leash!! They must’ve had a Jack Russell!

God Bless!!

ps, by God’s grace that I can do this . . . a good friend, (hint, friends that visited Saturday) gave me the double jogging stroller . . . I wouldn’t have one otherwise! Thank you, you know who you are!!!  I try not to idolize it, its hard sometimes . . . its my favorite material possession right now!

Warmth, that sums up the last few days around these here parts. I live in the northern Willamette Valley of Oregon . . . warm enough through the winter we don’t get snow (rarely) but we deal with cold (15-35 degrees) and rainy days. The much needed break has come . . . signs spring is slowly taking over winter’s position as weather-master. Winter is stubborn and will speak up a few more times before moving on, I’m sure; but the break of sun and warm temperatures has been altogether refreshing. I look forward to fresh growth on trees and in flower beds and long stints outside, hiking, walking, jogging, playground shenanigans and more! Maybe I’ll finally drop that last 25 lbs or so. Oh yeah and to shed the thick winter coat for good! . . . well, until next year anyway.

I hear my boys waking from nap time slumber so I’m going for now.

God Bless!

And Happy Spring Moments!

Well, this is more of summertime moment . . . but you get my general drift. Byron and Tobias . . . Best friends.

Late spring rains left the worn trail damp but not muddy.  The air was warming quickly due to the sun high in the sky, successfully fighting back the morning clouds.  This had been the first rain in several warm days and the smell was pungent with air cleansing qualities and the deep aroma of the decaying forest floor; on the breeze the smell of saddle leather and horse sweat complicated the range of scents.

We had been riding for an hour or so; my friend, Tara and I.  A dark bay horse had won my heart but belonged to another; he was loaned to me only.  The same was true for Tara’s mount, a grey Appaloosa-Arab cross with dark legs and mottling on his large head.  I don’t remember the conversation.  I vaguely remember where we were in the hills and low mountains behind Frank’s log home.  I do remember, distinctly,  the sounds of the horses hooves on soft sod, the creaking of the stiff leather saddles with the movement of each step and the sway of our bodies while we sat, relaxed, on the mass of beast under us.  The trees whispered, but not disruptively, above our heads. As we hit level ground and the path widened for us to ride side by side; we did so . . . of course taking full advantage to race at top speeds to see who could reach the tall pine with an obvious defect a quarter mile up the trail. The thrill of adrenaline at the bunching of horse flesh and the power undeniable that followed; a reminder that control was an illusion. Laughing joyfully as our horses reluctantly slowed at our coaxing and came down to a prancing walk; also excited over the short glimpse of freedom.  The trail turned sharply and we made a slow winding circle back down the hill, eventually cutting back over to the main trail head, nearly bringing us to Frank’s front door and the small saddling corrals he erected the year before.

We broke out in song routinely but I don’t even remember the made up tune of that day.  But I do remember the smells, the sounds and mostly the sensations that accompanied these frequent and God-given gifts of riding the hills, thick in the forests of the south Willamette Valley.  I look back, 13 years later and realize what a gift HE had given a loner girl, one that did nothing to deserve anyone’s kindness but had received their confidence with their homes, property and horses on a regular basis.  Frank Knott and Ed Bice forever challenged and changed me by their confidence and kindness towards me.  Though I had been around horse flesh since I was born, they taught me everything I know about riding for reals.

I haven’t spoken or seen either of these men since I was around 17 years old.  They were slightly aged then, so sometimes I wonder if they’re still around.  I know I went to visit Frank shortly after I was married; Justin and I were in his neck of the woods, but the place was boarded up.  A deep sadness that I couldn’t pin point, but couldn’t shake either, consumed me for a few days afterward.

Its past, sometimes it even feels like a separate life, but its nostalgic to me. I know, somehow, my roots were grown a bit there and I learned a little more of myself.

God Bless

These are a good friend’s horses, hanging out in the pasture, fall ‘07 

Ah, I love being outdoors . . . more than being anywhere indoors.

I am blessed to be in such a naturally beautiful setting as the Willamette Valley but, as you may well have figured out if you’ve read any posts, I absolutely despise the cold; rain is even worse. I’m not in the mountains so snow is rare. I understand the rain and the winter cold is needed for the health of our rain forests and the environment I take advantage of when its not rainy or cold or both. But, when we’re rich and famous, I’m getting a winter home in Hawaii; leave October 15th and return to my log cabin mansion April 15th. That would be perfect, I tell ya. Best of both worlds! All of you are invited to our home in Hawaii, I’ll let ya know when the loan is approved. Of course we’ll have to find our mansion in the valley first and move out of our poor people apartments. Ah, it might be awhile, might as well get a late night snack and relax . . . maybe snooze a little . . . I’ll wake you.

So, I . . . by myself, probably would not venture outside in the winter months, except to get into my car and out of my car to enter another heated facility. Buuuut, I have two boys that adore the outdoors; would freeze to death soaking wet before voluntarily coming inside. I barely remember being the same way.

I was infatuated (still am) with horses and was always always involved with exercising someone’s horses or owning one of my own . . . my parents weren’t wealthy so not too many of my own . . . spendy critters. But horses live outdoors, year around . . . well, the horses I rode did anyway. And most people want you to exercise their horses during the cold months due to their (the owners of the horses) inability to function in the cold and the desire to have an in shape (and well behaved) trail horse in the summer. I had to be outdoors to be around them, ride them, hang all over them, pet them until their winter hair came out involuntarily, feed them to the brink of foundering, and just plain be with them; sometimes just staring at them as they stood, heads hung shoulder level, eyes drooping to sleep despite the nasty drizzle and dipping temperatures. I don’t once remember taking note of how cold it was or rainy. The only thing I remember being aware of is how slick the ground was because I had a horse, multiple times (same horse, hmmm) slide out from underneath me, landing full on his side; lucky I didn’t get pinned underneath! Anyway, a bit paranoid of the rain-soaked ground, still am.

I’m nearing 31 and I am cold constantly, so when I get warm, i.e., put on enough layers, heat the house so when the hubby comes home he can’t breath for a few moments and turns bright red and directly turns the heat down, curl under my down comforter the nights he works his 24 hour shift at the firehouse with my fleece sweatshirt, long pj pants and my foot slippers on that look like stuffed animal tennis shoes . . . and sometimes it still takes me several minutes to stop chattering. When the hot fireman hubby is home, the bed almost gets too hot . . . ok, in more than one way. hee hee. sorry if I grossed you out with that one . . . Couldn’t help myself.

This phenomenon (of being cold, that is) has been heightened since my last pregnancy. Samuel is my second and last child to be born naturally (by choice, still considering adoption later on) and he was born September 12th. Do you know what that birthday insinuates? You guessed it . . . summertime pregnancy from hell . . . so overweight I couldn’t tie my own shoes, much less breathe. It could be a 55 degree evening and I would be sweating bullets of, well, sweat; I think it was sweat . . . I couldn’t drink enough water to keep up the sweating, I don’t think, so I’m not sure what it was. If I moved from a sitting position I would instantly sweat and become out of breath, no matter the temperature or the aide of my husband to launch my 9 month pregnant body off our drooping, overstuffed couch. So you could imagine the ordeal of being home, pretty much alllll the time alone with a 1 and a half year old Tobias; the one who is never out of energy and always into something. I would mention we had 2 year old Jack Russell (still do, well now he’s 3 and a half yrs old) but I basically just ignored his existence by the 7 month time, so that doesn’t play into the amount of energy expended during the 9 month mark. Thankfully hubby loves his dog . . . so he got to go to work with him lots. So since knowing heat like no one should ever know before passing out or dieing . . . my body just doesn’t even want to get close to be that hot again, I suppose, so it stays cold . . . maybe my blood is cold, like a reptile or amphibian sort. Maybe I need a human sized heat rock and special lighting. I won’t eat crickets though.

We were out in it today . . . the weather tricked us and made us comfy in the thought it was warmer than it was and it wasn’t going to drizzle. We trooped out in sweatshirts for warmth and minutes into our afternoon jaunt it started to drizzle and cool off considerably. Ugh!!!!

Tobias in the orange, Sam in the brown overalls and super pooch (Byron) Jack Russell Extraordinare (sp) in the white.

So, I figure you made it through over 900 words of Mother Tucker crap, you deserve some pictures, so here’s some more of today’s tiny outing.

Samuel, running away from me as usual . . . (I don’t remember Tobias doing this) if I even pretend like I’m going to say Samuel’s name to give direction . . . he runs from me. grrr

Ok, I take crap pictures, but its not all my fault . . . the boy never looks up at me whilst he’s running about free of the bondage known, so familiarly, as the indoors. The camera barely caught him at all here.

Oh, there’s his cute face . . . Good grief, he looks just like his daddy! Like the cement burn right under the hairline on his forehead? He falls and just doesn’t catch himself with his hands . . . its like the 4th one he’s had in about 6 weeks. I feel bad but this last time I was like, “uh, not again . . . why don’t you use your hands to catch yourself, instead of your head?” He didn’t care much to answer through his screams of agony and pain. And, yes, I comforted him, put a band aid on it with neosporin. I’m not all mean.

Oh yeah, here’s the other one, he has a face too . . . and he’s not running away. Samuel Caiden!

I believe this is the longest post in Mother Tucker blogging history. I commend you for getting through it without falling asleep or finding something more interesting to do.

God bless!!

My two boys have to get outside everyday; every other day at the least.

We live in an apartment while Justin is going to school full time (actually double-time at 26 credits, eeks!).  The apartment is large, relatively speaking. But no amount of controlled rough housing indoors compares with the energy-burning walk we’ve taken up.

We start in front of our apartment, which faces the parking lot.  We turn left and follow the strip of grass down, oh 6 -8 apartments down to the end of the building (dodging the dog poo as we go), take another left and then another left; leaving the parking lot behind (parking lots, not conducive for a nearly 3 yr old and a 17 m. old to play near) and we find ourselves behind our complex.

Its nice, tree lined with the roots of the trees visible above ground, as though their gripping the soil with their very fingers.  The grass is lush and there’s plenty of space for them to wonder around; checking out dirt, rocks and sticks.  I point out to an excited Tobias the squirrels and variety of birds that gather at the feeders.  The gentleman that resides in the end unit faithfully refills these feeders attached to the fence and hanging from the tree, keeping the squirrels out and about all year.  Tobias has noises for each critter and he almost shouts the squawks for the birds and high-pitched barks for the squirrels.

We follow the wide corridor of nature until ends at the playground where boys proceed to burn off the remainder of their energies for the time being.  We trudge indoors, wet, cold and satisfied with fresh air.

Glimpse of Samuel.  He’s enjoying the playground equipment to its fullest!