Our boys had been playing outside with some of their neighborhood friends, when they burst in the front door, excited. “Mom, Dad, there’s a turtle in the yard!”

Cowgrit and I put on our shoes and went out to see the thing. We expected a small, little thing, maybe the size of our hand. But what we found was a monster.

Here it is next to my size 10.5 shoe:

Our boys and two or three of the neighborhood kids were standing around it in awe. Our yard is at least 200 yards from the nearest water — a retaining pond in our neighborhood and one in the neighborhood across the road. How this big thing got to our yard is a mystery. However it managed the feat, in its slow turtle way, is amazing.

I picked it up, and it immediately retreated into its shell. I held it for the kids to look at up close and touch. (I put it back down to take the pic for size reference.) The Calfgrits were asking if we could keep it as a pet. Calfgrit6 was just about in love with it; he couldn’t stop touching its shell.

We decided we needed to take it down to the neighborhood pond for release so it would have water and food aplenty, and be protected inside a fence. So I carried it while Cowgrit and the calves walked along with me. As we took it down the street, we stopped here and there to show other neighborhood kids the animal. We even had a man and son pull over in their car to get out and look at it. The dad was more impressed with it than his 12-year-old son.

At the pond, I set it down next to the water, and we all said bye and wished it health and happiness.

Such a simple thing, really, but it was a cool situation. It’s not everyday you find a huge turtle in your yard. And all the kids in the neighborhood got a thrill getting up close and touching a live wild animal.

Bullgrit

All day Friday, I was without my wedding ring. It’s a weird feeling. Just about everyone has probably had that “naked” feeling when they don’t have on their watch or underwear – hasn’t everyone forgotten to put on their underwear at some time? . . . Me neither – but having that feeling for not having on something so really small as a ring is strange.
 
I took it off Thursday evening for my workout. Ever since I lost my middle-age fat padding, my ring rests loose on my finger. When I’m doing my P90X or Insanity, it feels like it could whip off my finger due to the fast exercises and sweating. So I take it off and set it next to the TV. Well, this time I forgot to put it back on after the workout.
 
So Friday, all day, I kept feeling my ring’s absence. Whenever I had to stick my hand into my jeans pocket, I noticed it didn’t snag. Whenever I put my hands together into a double fist, I noticed nothing hard pressing against any finger. (I usually put my elbows on my desk and fold my hands together, sort of like a prayer pose, when I reading my computer screen.) And whenever I just had my left hand up in front of my face, pointing at something or just talking with my hands I tend to do, my eyes noted the gold band was missing.
 
Really, a ring is such a small thing, you’d think it could hardly be missed in a daily routine. But man, it’s absence bugged me all day. I almost felt unbalanced without its tiny weight.
 
When I first started wearing the band, I used to take it off all the time and play with it. Before getting married, I had never really worn any kind of jewelry. I often even went without a watch on my arm. It took me a couple of years before I got used to the ring on my hand. I had a fidgety habit of taking it off and spinning it on a table. I haven’t done that in many a year, now.
 
I wear the ring to bed, in the shower, everywhere. Taking it off for workouts, I’ve only been doing for some months, and that’s only for about an hour at a time, a few evenings a week.
 
When I put it back on Friday night, I immediately felt better. Whole. Balanced. I don’t know if I could have slept that night without it. Strange, that feeling. But that little ring has come to feel like a part of my body, and missing it makes me uncomfortable.
 
Am I alone in this? Do you feel weird if you don’t have on your wedding ring?
 
Bullgrit

Several weeks ago, Calfgrit10 mentioned that his school was going to start a chess club, and he would like to join it. Very cool. We’d love for him to have some kind of club or thing to participate in. He’s not usually interested in group participation.
 
Yesterday was the first gathering for the club, and I left work early so I could be there with him at 4:00. His school lets out at 3:45, so the rush was dying down by the time I walked into the school building. I was directed to the Media Center, (what my generation called the Library), by the principal who was corralling the last of the carpool kids at the front door.
 
In the Media Center, I found Calfgrit10 already in the middle of a game with another boy his age. There were about 20 kids, altogether, and about 10 parents, (mostly moms). Talking with the adults around, it seemed that most didn’t know how to play chess, themselves. At least one mom and one dad, other than me, did know enough to coach their kids during games.
 
This whole gathering was just a free-play event. The teacher organizing the club said she knew the basics of the game, but didn’t know any real strategies. She was hoping a parent or two could help out with the actual coaching and teaching. So I stood over my son and tried my hand at coaching a little.
 
Calfgrit10 seemed to be having a lot of fun. He was talking and laughing with his opponents, generally being silly and funny. But he wasn’t trying to win a game. He’d get so wrapped up in just wanting to move one piece around the board that he’d just ignore that his opponents were capturing his other pieces left and right. When I told him to think about all the pieces he could move, he tended to just stop and wouldn’t do anything. When I advised him to think about what his opponent’s next move would be, (even after his opponent had stated what he wanted to do), he would just cross his arms and say, “I don’t know.”
 
Obviously he didn’t want me sticking my nose in his fun. He just wanted to play around without care about winning or losing. Okay. I backed off. I wasn’t trying to push him or mess up his fun.
 
But I know him. He likes to win at any game and sport he plays. In fact, he always claims he “didn’t have fun” when he loses at something. When he plays chess, or any game, with me, he’s very competitive. He seems to play to win.
 
Well, I just let him play after he shut down at my advice. He went back to talking and laughing and seeming to have fun. He lost two games and won one.
 
One our walk home from school after the meeting, he claimed to not have had fun. When I asked if he’d like to go back next week, he said, “I’d just rather go home and do my homework.” That’s weird. He hates doing homework. We have to hover around him every night to make sure he stays on his homework till he finishes.
 
So, chess club was a bust. I don’t know if his decision was because I annoyed him with coaching or because he lost 2-1 games. There’s always a fine line between helping and hindering when trying to nurture interest in something for a child. And I never know where the line is until I’ve probably crossed it. Parenting is hard.
 
Bullgrit

This has been a weak start for Springtime. We’re what, three weeks into this spring, and it’s just now getting warm? This weekend it finally got to where I can comfortably wear short sleeves outside, so I wanted to start showing off some of my new t-shirt designs. Saturday morning, I chose to wear my Go ask your mother t-shirt.

***

Also on Saturday morning: Calfgrit6 was feeling bad. His throat hurt and he just looked pathetic. So I took him to the doctor’s office.

While sitting in the waiting room, a husband and wife sitting across from CG6 and I noticed my shirt. The wife said, “You’d like that shirt, wouldn’t you.”

The husband smiled and said, “Yeah, definitely.”

Then the nurse called my Calfgrit6 back to see the doc. They ran a test and diagnosed him with strep throat. The poor little guy had a reason for feeling bad. They gave us a prescription and sent us on our way.

As we walked through the waiting room on our way out of the office, a mom with a little girl noticed my shirt. “Oh, I love your shirt,” she said. “Thanks,” I said back to her as I herded my sick little boy through the doors.

Calfgrit6 and I then went to Target to get his prescription filled. While in the store waiting for the pharmacist to prepare the concoction, we wandered about in the toy section. I was high on showing off my shirt, but no one was even noticing me, much less my t-shirt. All the other shoppers were just going about their business, paying me no mind.

Then there was this one dad strolling slowly down an aisle with his young daughter. His little girl was oohing and aahing at the toys, and he was just kind of eye-wandering with a blank expression on his face. Calfgrit6 was looking at some Pokemon cards, and I was just standing next to him. I turned slightly to nonchalantly present my t-shirt to the approaching dad. Our eyes never met, but I did notice the dad’s gaze fall on my shirt. He saw the design, and smiled. Then he and his daughter passed us without a word spoken.

BAM! Four people noticed my shirt in just a short morning. And all had a positive reaction.

When we finished exploring the toy section of the store, we made our way back to the pharmacy. We picked up Calfgrit6’s medicine, and then left the store.

Back in my truck, with Calfgrit6 buckled in his seat behind me, I was just aglow from pride in my shirt. Yep, I thought, I’ve hit the target with this design.

Then, as we were driving out of the parking lot, I heard a sound from Calfgrit6. It’s a sound all parents know, and dread. Then he said, “Daddy, I just threw up.”

I pulled over into a parking area to help him. I grabbed various napkins and tissues, and opened his back door to clean him up. His hands and lap were covered in slimy yuck. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten any breakfast. (His throat hurt too much.) But still, it’s nasty. I got him cleaned up enough that he could hold on till we got back home.

So ended my self-congratulatory high: with puking. At least he didn’t throw up on my new, cool shirt.

Bullgrit