Memory Monday: Pets Before Kids

Me, my husband, and our daughter

PETS BEFORE KIDS

We did not plan it that way, but I glad it happen. My husband and I were married nine years before we had any children. We had raised two generations of cats in that time of B.C. (Before Children), and we learned some very, very valuable lessons about child rearing from our experiences.

With our first cat, Molasses, we were very strict. We taught her how to behave, not to get on the furniture, not to scratch the doors, and, definitely, not to get on the kitchen cabinets (in fact, the only time she did get on the kitchen cabinets was when she had been outside, chased by a dog, came streaking in, leaped on the counters, raced across the hot griddle, and cowered in the corner). We taught her and we disciplined her.

Two years later, she got her grandson, McArthur (by way of a neighbor who had taken two of Molasses's kittens). By this time we were more lax in our raising of this little kitten. We were not as careful with our training—we did not enforce our discipline as consistently; we just did not bring up the second kitten as well as we could have because we did not put as much into it as we could have.

We had lots of fun with both of them. They made our lives richer for having them, but the best thing about them—the very best thing—is the lesson we learned about the responsibility of raising a living creature from infancy to adulthood.

In a relatively short span of time (about 4 years), we saw what the results our proper training (and lack of proper training) with them could lead to. Molasses was well-behaved, sweet, gentle, and hardly ever in "trouble." McArthur, on the other hand, was constantly having to be disciplined—he would scratch the window ledges, get on the furniture, climb on the kitchen counters, tearing open the bread if I forgot to put it up. We loved McArthur (the grandson cat) just as much as we loved Molasses (even though they had such different personalities—one was gentle and quiet, the other was rambunctious and playful), but we made life so much harder for everyone all the way around by not raising McArthur right, by not giving him the time and teaching that he needed.

I am so thankful that we had pets before kids because we learned some very valuable lessons in miniature. My husband and I would often discussed the results of the way we had dealt with our cats and the results and we tried to learn from them as to what we could do differently when we had children. We learned that we needed to be consistent. And if we weren’t consistent, there would be results (and those results would not be good). We learned that just because the older one knew the right thing to do, the younger one would not automatically do it also—each one must be taught individually. We learned that each one that we raised was different, and we had to take those differences in to account in the way that we dealt with them. We loved our cats (they were 17 and 18 when they finally died), and my husband and I will always be thankful for the lessons we learned from them about child raising before we made some of the mistakes we could have made with our own children.

P.S. That all happened over 40 years ago. A few of years ago, we got our next generations of cats—MacIntosh and Malcolm. With them, we are not nearly as strict in disciplining them, much more patient, more indulgent—definitely more indulgent. They are everywhere, on everything (except the kitchen cabinets and table), they get their way in just about everything they want, and we bought them all sort of toys. Yes, thanks to the training of this new generation of cats, you can already tell: my husband and I are going to be wonderful grandparents.

Throwback Thursday: Cattle Ranching

Head ’em up. Move ’em out.

There's my caption; what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: The Last Words

LAST WORDS

The other day I was scanning some family pictures and came across one that had been among my mother’s things when she passed away. It was a picture of my daughter combing my father’s hair. I know the day, month, and year it was taken—Saturday, July 28. 1984. My parents had come to celebrate our daughter’s third birthday.

My parents left the next day and went home. I hugged my father and said, “I love you, Daddy.” He hugged me back and said he loved me, too. I watched them drive away. Three days later on Tuesday, we got a call. Daddy had been killed in an accident.

Several years later, Mother moved to the town where I live. Through the almost 20 years she was here, we traveled from mother and daughter to friends, then finally to me looking after her (even though she still lived in her own house). The night before she passed away, she called me before she went to bed, and said how much she loved me, then thanked me for looking after her. She ended with telling me she loved me, and I told her I loved her. The next morning we found unconscious, and she never regain consciousness.

If I pass before they do, I hope that the last words my husband and children hear from me are words of love and thankfulness, words that will help them in their grief and bring comfort to their hearts.

Throwback Thursday: Winter Trip to the Zoo

Does anyone but me think it’s interesting that the woman and child are wearing fur coats in front of the bear cage?

There's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Iced Coffee and Creamer Coffee

THEY HAD THIS BACK THEN!

I love coffee. (My husband just rolled his eyes.) Well, I love flavored coffee. Ok, I love flavored, iced coffee. The truth of the matter is that I love flavored, iced coffee with fat-free half- and-half (see why my husband rolled his eyes—he says what I drink is NOT coffee.) But, it has coffee in it. I love to get McDonald’s coffee (senior-priced, of course), bring it home, fill up my largest glass with ice, add a goodly splash of the aforementioned FF ½ & ½, add some sugar-free flavored syrup, then fill up the rest of it with coffee (see, I drink coffee). Just for your information, if you combine equal parts chocolate, caramel, and hazelnut syrups, you get snicker bar flavoring—great in iced coffee.

While I was growing up, there were only two choices for coffee—sweet or plain, well I guess there were four if you consider adding milk/cream to those. I was so excited years ago when I discover the packaged creamers in the milk section of the store. That’s when I began to enjoy coffee. And that was before I learned about iced coffee.

This is all being said so I can tell you about something I discovered today. In a cookbook published in 1860 named Practical American Cookery and Domestic Economy, I came across several recipes that I want to share. By the way, my great-granddaddy in in the school picture above. He was born in 1850, so his mother might have made these recipes.

I love cream in my coffee, but what if I’ve run out and can’t go to the store to get more until I’ve had my first cup in the morning. Well, I’ve found the solution with this recipe from 1860:

A SUBSTITUTE FOR CREAM FOR COFFEE.

Beat up a fresh egg, then pour boiling water on it gradually to prevent its curdling. It is difficult to distinguish it from rich cream.

And if I run out of flavored creamer, here’s the solution for that:

COFFEE-TO GIVE THE FLAVOR OF VANILLA.

Take a hand full of oats, very clean, and let them boil for five or six minutes in soft water; throw this away, and fill it up with an equal quantity, and let it boil for half an hour; then pass this decoction through a silk sieve, and use it to make your coffee, which will acquire, by this means, the flavor of vanilla, and is very nice.

Now doesn’t that sound yummy?

And not only that, back then they had iced coffee, too. Only they called it something else:

COFFEE ICE A L^'ITALIENNE.

Infuse a quarter of a pound of coffee in a pint of double cream, boiling hot, for two hours, closely covered; half whip the whites of nine eggs, and having strained the cream from the coffee, mix it with them; add half a pound of powdered sugar, and put it over a gentle fire till it begins to thicken, then ice it.

See, the good old days weren’t so bad.

Throwback Thursday: Halloween?

Here's my caption:

"For Halloween, we went as an old-timey family."

What's your caption? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Veteran's Day

My husband in 1972

THOSE WHO SERVED

As we approach Veterans Day, I wanted to share those in my family who served their country. 

My father with his parents during WWII

My father-in-law during WWII

Another uncle in WWII

My uncle - career military

My great grandfather during the Civil War

My husband's grandfather (on the right) during WWI

Besides the picture above, my husband-through his genealogy research-has discovered the names of more of his family who have served in the military. In the American Revolution, 18 of his direct ancestors served, while another one served in the post-revolution period. During the War of 1812, 3 of his ancestors served, while 8 served during the Civil War. I haven’t researched my family history, so I’m not sure how many of my ancestors served, although I know not as many as his because my mother’s family were Mennonites and didn’t come to America until much later than my husband’s family. Still I’m so proud of all my family, and that includes in-laws-who have served.

Throwback Thursday: Ranchers

"2,304, 2,305, 2,30…uh, uh, oh, shucks, I lost count.

I’ll have to start again 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6."

There's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Our Interest in Family History

OUR INTEREST IN FAMILY HISTORY

Although my interest in genealogy didn’t begin until a few years ago when I found my grandfather’s birth certificate (discovering the names of his parents) among my mother’s papers after her death, my love of “family things” has always been a part of me. My grandmother gave me a little ring of hers when I was just a small child, and I still have it in my jewelry box. I have my father’s wooden chess set, a pocket watch that was my grandfather’s, a few of the little pitchers that were my grandmother-in-law’s from WWII, and so many more things.

One of the things that show our love for “family things” is shown in the picture above. This was taken the day we brought our first child home from the hospital. She wore a dress my mother had saved from I was a baby. Her socks came from her daddy, and her shoes were from her granddaddy. The pink blanket was made by my mother. The car seat was lined with a white blanket that my mother-in-law had won at a store opening, twenty years before. When she won it, she said she was going to save it for her grandchild. My grandmother passed away more than a year before our daughter (her first grandchild) was born. After her funeral, I took the blanket so I could fulfill that plan for her. Even though my mother-in-law never got to see her grandchild, a special part of her will always live with my daughter. They both carry the same middle name.

Oh, and another part of my daughter’s coming home outfit ties the present to the past. The little cap our daughter is wearing in the picture was tatted by my husband’s grandmother for her newborn son (my father-in-law) in 1920. Both of my children wore it home from the hospital, and it is in the safety deposit box waiting for future generations.