What Makes Us Parents?

I am a mother. It is the most honorable title I hold. I'm a photographer...a legal assistant...a friend...{sometimes a pain in the artichoke}...a lover...a fighter. But mother, that is a title I didn't apply for. I was given that title by Little Miss and have worked diligently each and every day to live up to the high standards of those moms before me. {My family rocks it at motherhood, the shoes I stepped into were huge.}

I was blessed to gain this title initially in the most conventional way- I simply gave birth. {15 hours of labor, simple} I gave birth and then took care of my daughter, in order to hold onto the honorable title. Others become parents by marrying someone who has children already or adopting...which still allows them the respective parent title.

I heard the wheels squelch to a screeching halt as some of you read that. You can become a parent by marrying another parent? It's contagious like that?! Well, only if you're born to be a parent- only if it's in your heart already. You don't just 'poof' become a parent- you have to prove yourself, no matter how you become a parent. I have heard an argument recently regarding step-parenting that totally struck a nerve. Oh, he's so good with her kids. Or- She treats his kids just like hers, even though they aren't her blood. This baffles me for one simple reason- if you adopted a child, would you treat that child any differently than your biological, blood-related child? Of course not. So why is it so surprising when you see a step-parent being...*shock* good at their job? It all boils down to loving a child and making sure their needs are met. Why would anyone ever want a child to feel like they are less than wonderful? Or worse, like they are not good enough? We could all learn a lesson from our children in that respect- they love with their whole hearts. They tend to not see color or judge what is normal- they simply see a person who cares about them, no matter what blood relation or title exists.

In our our home, we opted not to call each other step-anythings. I'm not a step-mother...that sounds so cliche and Cinderella-ish. {I would never let my hair be gray or wear those awful gowns.} We are bonus parents. Our girls are 'sea-stars' and the our titles to them? We are BooMa + BooPa. {We have called each other Boo from the start...our kids are super creative- bam, our names were born.} Being a bonus parent does not take away from our little one's biological parents' position- it simply adds to it...an extra person to love, an extra person to learn from and look up to. Being a bonus parent and holding the title of BooMa is a pretty noble and rocking title, if you ask me. It was something I had to earn...and continue to have to earn. I am so proud to be able to add it to the list of my many titles.

Up next for new titles? Trick-rider. 

The Day the Blond Went Hunting

With hunting season rapidly approaching, I thought I would share about my first hunting experience which just occurred last fall. While I come from a hunting family, I am far from a hunter. I tend to be more apt to adopt something fury with four-legs, rather than murder it in cold blood hunt it...but I'm always up for trying something new...and was actually pretty excited for the experience.

I knew we would have to wake up in the wee-hours of the morning and assumed that there was not a coffee-maker in the Breaking Bad inspired 'bus' we were sleeping in. {Seriously, Walter White wouldn't even cook meth in this thing.} So, I snagged some bottled Frappucinos as a coffee-backup plan. I definitely didn't want to start out our morning of killing the defenseless without proper caffeination.

We hopped on the 4wheeler and set off down a dark path.

"Don't the deer hear us coming!?" I yelled asked.

"WHAT?!?!!" my sweet man replied.

"Don't the deer...nevermind."

I knew there was no way he could hear me over the 4wheeler motor.

A few moments later, we arrived at our deer stand. 

"Where does the 4wheeler hide? Don't the deer see that and think DANGER AHEAD?! I mean...in Bambi...." I was stopped by the look. The one that says, are you seriously asking me if deer sense danger? We are here to hunt- they get shot for a reason.

I moved on. I had a plethora of questions I needed answers to.

Once the 4wheeler was safely hidden in a nearby bush, we climbed into the deer stand. As the sun began to rise over the fields, I surprised myself. I was having such a good time taking in all the nature that surrounded me. The fog rising...the birds chirping...the crackle in the woods...wait.

"Is that a deer!?" I whispered, excitedly.

"No, it sounds like a bird or something. Shh," my sweet man said, trying so hard to be patient.

"Do you think it's a spotter?"

"A what?!"

"A spotter...for the deer. Like- they send out the bird first to peep the scene," I said, trying to keep a straight face. {peep the scene}

I got the look again.

"SHHHH" he said, lighting a cigarette- he seemed stressed for some odd reason.

"Don't they smell that!?" I asked.

He took a deep breath and put his head in his hands. 

I decided I would try to file some of my questions away for a later time. He clearly didn't appreciate my commentary. But I was just so curious.

I heard a gunshot in the distance. I had to fight the urge to scream, "RUN BAMBI RUN!!!!!!!" 

"Look!" my sweet fella whispered, pointing behind our stand.

Running through the field behind us were four deer. {Too far away to shoot at. Score!} Now, I couldn't tell you about racks or if it was a doe, ray or mi...but they were breathtaking. 

"Look how fast they are. I want to ride one!!" I said.

I got the look, followed by a Jesus.

As the excitement faded, I felt my eyes starting to get heavy. Knowing talking was not an option to keep me awake, I opted for my trusty Frappucino. If anyone has ever opened one of those, you know it's not the most quiet activity I could've chosen.

Crackle. Craaccccckle. Crackle. Crrrraaaaackle. 

"Sorry," I whispered.

The look.

Craccccckle.

"There. It's off," I said, proudly twisting off the top.

POP. {I had forgotten about the sealed top, whoops.}

"Seriously!?!?" my sweet(?) man yelped.

"SHHHH!!! You'll scare the deer!!" I replied, taking a sip of my coffee.

He looked at his gun. Clearly contemplating shooting something other than the deer. I got the look one last time before we climbed down from tree stand and headed back to Walt White's.

I wasn't banned from the hunting camp...but I was given much stricter instructions on trip #2. Along with duct tape.

Happy hunting!

Thanks to Roanoke...

Tonight wrapped the 2015 season of The Lost Colony. While Little Miss's season wrapped on Wednesday evening, we had to come back one more time to watch the final show.

I, personally, have watched the show so many times this summer that I catch myself whispering the lines along with the actors. {I may audition next year. Eleanor...do you need an understudy?} I have seen the rain dances, bug dances, hidden yawns...each night exhibited new excitement from the cast. But this week? This week was phenomenal. The emotion from each cast member was true. The audience felt it...they felt the pain of the colonist who'd lost loved ones- and who were uncertain of their own futures. They felt that pain because the cast members were truly hurting. The end of this season meant the end {somewhat} of their family. The end of meeting together each night to share in something that only they can really understand. 

I will admit, I was nervous when Little Miss took her part with The Lost Colony. I worried about all the things mothers worry about when they send their child off to school or a new extra-curricular activity. What if there is a bully? What if she doesn't make friends? What if she forgets her manners and is rude? What if...what if. Those worries faded almost immediately during her first performance. Whether it was Queen Elizabeth herself or a colonist, they all greeted Little Miss each night by name. They even learned who her Granddad was...and loved him just like she does. 

During tonight's show, we watched from the stands with Little Miss...who saw parts of the show for the first time- having missed them while she was on stage herself. I watched her eyes twinkle with excitement. I listened to her whisper, "watch for this part" or "gunshot coming!" to her little seastar. {seastar: best friend/step-sister...step-sister is so cliche} 

Toward the end of the play, Old Tom spoke from the roof...and tonight I heard his speech completely differently than I'd ever heard it before.

"Roanoke...Roanoke made a man...a man of me!" he exclaimed.

My eyes filled with tears. 

Oh, Roanoke...you have helped my baby grow this summer. You have taught her so much in these few short months. I am so grateful...grateful for the experience, the people, the talent...all of it.

As the cast made their final march through tears, I cried right along with them. While I hope Little Miss will join the cast again next year, there will never be another first year there...with this incredible cast of people. 

I have to make a special note to Mr. Jesse- who held Little Miss's hand each night as he told the story of The Lost Colony. You may never understand how special you are to us. In losing our "Big Gully" this same year, you brought a part of him to life for us. We love you...and will see you next summer, whether here or in Alabama!

Scary Shadows

Horse people know when they have found that horse. The one horse they have a stronger bond with than they share with most humans. The horse that with one nicker, one nuzzle or even just a simple look- you can tell exactly what they are thinking...and they can tell exactly what you need.

Recently, I've been taking my 'Pretty Fly White Guy', Tristan, out for evening strolls on his own. Leaving a pasture mate {security blanket, boss mare} at home can tend to create new obstacles. The first outing, I didn't test him...we rode down the road with many scary boat-monsters on blocks, with dumpsters that scary monsters jump out of, passing by the tarps that flapped in the wind, clearly showing their fangs. I let him look and take his time.

The next outing, we walked up to the dumpster {scary monster home} and sniffed it. Tristan snorted so loudly he scared himself...and myself. We rode down to the end of the road and out towards the docks to see a new monster. Boats in water...floating. {Clearly this is unnatural and unsafe, right?}

With each ride, Tristan's confidence grew and our bond got stronger. He didn't spook at the same 'monster' twice, he was aware and protective, but not screaming like a teenage girl in a haunted house. Each night after I unsaddled him- I would thank him for keeping me safe and he'd nuzzle me right back, thanking me for keeping him safe too.

Last night we went out just before dark. I needed the ride more than anything after a very long and stressful day. {A horse ride to a cowgirl after a stressful day is equivalent to an entire bottle of wine.} Tristan did great, we could both feel my stress fading away with each step he took. And then I did it...I ruined the calm horse by leaning forward and patting his neck.

"Good boy, T..."

He jumped-in-place, snorted and farted all at the same time. I look around- there was nothing but a man in the distance working on his boat.

He snorts again, at the pavement.

"Tristan...it's your shadow! See?" I said moving my hand around.

He jumps, ears squared out like a donkey, and snorts again.

"You are literally scared of your own shadow."

Snorts again.

Sometimes no matter how big and strong you want to be, your biggest obstacle is yourself. 

The shadows reminded me of the fears that had grown in my own head before taking Tristan out, without his boss-mare. I worried he would be a complete psycho. I worried he would hurt me. I worried he would have a Storm-sized meltdown {the horse who almost killed me, who was promptly sold} even with our strong bond. I worried...about everything.

Thankfully, all those worries were just shadows...they weren't real. (And I didn't even have to jump/snort/fart to realize that.)