For years we've talked about moving out of our small, barely over 1,000 square foot home and into something bigger. We bought our house when we were eighteen and nineteen years old. We didn't know a thing about what we wanted in a house. Now that we're nearing our thirties with two children, we have a much, much clearer idea of what we want in a home.
The last few years we've considered all sorts of things. From moving into a bigger place, to buying land and building, to moving in with my mom and starting a business, to moving states, to Canada, and to selling everything and traveling in an RV. Needless to say, we're tired of the societal standard and prison. We're tired of the bubbles people are consumed in. My husband is certainly tired of slaving his life away for a home he basically only sleeps in and a family he doesn't have time for. We dream of the world, and live in a prison.
One morning, a few mornings ago, I woke up and finally made a choice. It seems almost crazy, I'm sure. But we've decided. We're going to sell it all and travel. Recently we refinanced our home with the intention of renting it out and purchasing a bigger place somewhere nearby. Ultimately, we'd eventually move again and rent the new place as well, setting ourselves up for residual income for the rest of our lives. It's still a fantastic plan. But one that still required a great deal of stress and money and slavery to "the man". Not to mention, buying in this market (where we live) is insane at the moment. So selling would be fantastic, but buying, notsomuch.
Plus, we considered homeschooling for a while. Now that our oldest has been in public school, we're even more on board with homeschooling than ever. We'd prefer private school over all other options, but it's just not feasible for us. Our daughter's change in behavior, bullies and twenty-three to one student teacher ratio in school on top of being sick constantly, just isn't doing it for us. Not to mention, her teacher expects her to have mastered the grade by midway through the year because she's already so advanced (a little credit to her age - being that her birthday was three days after the school cutoff and she's a year older than the majority of her class). So she's going to be pretty bored.
The more we mull over our options, and talk about what life in an RV on the road and homeschooling will be like, the more on board we get. We have found so very little to worry about. We will all be happier, more connected to each other and God, and we'll all learn so very much. If it doesn't work out, we have family here. We can park our RV in a driveway, put the kids back in school, and get back to work until we find a house we love. If it does work out, we still only plan to do it for a few years; until we find a place we'd like to settle in. Unless it really just ends up being the best thing ever and we do it forever. We assume we'll likely find a place to settle, and maybe even buy some land and build our dream home.
We're already so excited to finally have a real plan, that we just want to pack up and put our house on the market yesterday. But we're going to finish out the school year and make a rough plan first. Our goal is to stay at parks, where you volunteer your time (about 20 hours a week or less) in exchange for free hookup/electricity, etc. Some parks even give you a spot and still pay the state's minimum wage. My husband will work on cars on the go, and I'll open a craft shop and do photography. I plan on looking into blogging/writing articles as well. There are apparently resources for people who travel to make money on the road, but I haven't looked into them yet. So with our plan, plus the multitude of resources for making and saving on the road, I'm not very worried about money. I'm going to learn to coupon (which I've been needing to do anyway) before we hit the road as well. Also, you have to apply/reserve a spot at a park sometimes up to six months in advance. So we have a lot of researching and planning to do. Not to mention, selling our cars and buying a truck and 5th wheel that will meet our family's daily and schooling needs.
We're excited to finally be able to see family around the US as well, that we otherwise would never have time/money to travel to see. We've been wanting to rid our lives of junk and clutter and material things, and this is the most perfect opportunity. On top of saying sayonara to bills like internet and television and astronomical property tax and home owners association fees, etc. We'll be saving more than ever, while learning and connecting and experiencing more than ever. And we truly have almost nothing to lose. We've got back up plans, B, C and D and are so ready to really live that we can hardly wait.
I hope that once we start delving into real options, maps, parks, plans, etc., that it's still something we can handle and that we don't get scared away. It seems almost overwhelming, in an incredibly freeing way. Scary, and exciting.
We're skipping out on Thanksgiving this year, for the first time since we've been together - so almost ten years. We typically have such a busy and stressful holiday season, that we've finally kind of cracked. Having been the only ones with a child (up until recently) who had to have a Thanksgiving at my mom's, my mother-in-law's, my grandmother's and then also with my husband's boss and then Christmas at my mom's, mother-in-law's, grandmother's, with my husband's work and then sometimes my dad driving in or the pressure of having to drive to his place and or figuring out how to get each side of the family to get along at a couple of the places over so many, or trading off holidays....... is actually sort of awful. Our families don't get along among themselves, much less together, and my in-laws are a very big family who have families, so it's just getting a little crazy and now we have another baby and it's just not something we're willing to deal with this year.
So, for the first time we're sneaking under the radar and driving down the beach, just the four of us. It'll be a little bit of a test to see how we fair in the travel trailer for three or four days; obviously somewhat different since we won't have the things we'll actually be living with and the stipulations will be pretty different. But since we've finally made the choice, it will be a nice test to see how we feel about it when we come back home.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Friday, November 18, 2016
Hot Mess Mom and Life Group Admissions
Boyyeee it's been a rough week! It turns out, I'm fitting the bill for the "hot mess mom" pretty well. I've sort of always been in that realm, but I didn't exactly admit to or accept it easily. Sure, we can all get tired mom brain from time to time. But there does come a point where you have to stop blaming being tired, and accept that you're just a few fries short of a happy meal these days. Someone once told me that the act of childbirth actually kills brain cells. I don't think I believe that, but lately I've been having to wonder...
My stepdad once told me that he believes "mom brain" happens because your mind is purging and sorting old information and memories to make room for all the new things you have to know and that you're going to learn, and of course, being tired doesn't help. I thought that was pretty wise, especially coming from a man, who'd never had mom brain.
Here's the Signs You're a Hot Mess Mom video. There are a few by these hilarious ladies that incorporate the different kinds of moms, but boy is this pretty spot on! Seriously, search for the others though. They may be even funnier.
On Monday after I dropped my daughter off at school, I came home and realized we'd left her books in her room. Again. So, I loaded up the baby, and the books, and trekked back up to school. Her teacher didn't have the class in the room, so I asked if she needed help with anything, since I was already there. You know that moment, where your brain and your heart are NOT on the same page? I was asking to help her out of the kindness of my heart, but my brain was screaming at me to shut my trap because I had no time at all for that, or the capacity.
She definitely had work. I took home twenty something folders that I traced a snowman on one side, and Christmas tree on the other. It took ages with the baby. It was very unwise considering I was leading the Girl Scout troop on Wednesday, and the procrastinator in me hadn't even planned it yet. Luckily I got the folders done and back to her teacher the next day, and planned the meeting which went off without a hitch. The girls loved me, thank goodness - because we all know how blatantlymean honest kids can be. And I adored them, too. They all get along so well. I taught Friendship & Kindness, and Considerate & Caring. The girls earned two patches after we did three fun activities and a craft. I had them make little cards that they could hand out to other kids at school, the grocery store, etc. that could help to make others feel happy if they're looking sad or lonely or left out or scared, etc.
We played a jump over the tape sort of game where the girls stood on a long piece of tape and I said a scenario, if it was a nice, considerate, caring, friendly thing, they jumped forward. If it wasn't, they jumped back. They had to decide, and they did a fantastic job. The other activity, we sat in a big circle with a fluffy ball. We picked another girl and said something nice about her, and then tossed her the ball and continued on until all the girls had had something lovely said about them at least once. There was time leftover so on a whim we did some role-playing. I put the girls in situations and asked them how they should handle them. We read a couple of stories and overall had a fabulous meeting.
I volunteered for this one specifically because there's a girl in the troop who is also in my daughter's class, who doesn't treat her well. She's a bully, but not in your typical kindergarten sense, which is totally surprising to me. I didn't realize kindergarteners already knew how to bully, first. But this little girl isn't just outwardly mean, she's manipulative, and it blows my mind. My daughter comes home telling me stories about things that they did, excited, but I'm staring blankly at her, not understanding how she can't comprehend how mean that the other little girl was being. It makes me sick, and angry, you know?
So I was hoping to be able to teach the girls a little bit about treating others the way you want to be treated, and thinking about how the people around you feel and such. I think we did well. Hopefully it sticks with them. And Praise the Lord for making it through the day! I woke up with a migraine, of course. I took my meds four times and still couldn't kick it. So I suffered through the day and the meeting and came home and crashed at 8:30 with the kids. I hate how the migraines linger the next day though. Even if my head doesn't hurt, I still don't have any appetite and amd in a fog. More-so than usual of course.
My husband and I have been going to a Bible study group for a couple of months now. It's with other married couples around our age with kids around our kids ages. We'd talked about finding friends like that for years, but never made a move on it. Then he cheated on me after hanging out with a shitty single friend who needed a "wing man". I honestly am not even sure how I'm still in this marriage. I was sure that we were through. This wasn't the first time he's done this to me. And as devastating as the times before this were, it was almost as if I expected it this time, deep down inside. Which is strange, because it completely blindsided me. I cried for maybe a day, but more almost in mourning of the ten years I'd lost and for my children. Then I couldn't cry anymore.
After a couple of weeks of him not living here and begging for another chance to really make a real change, I decided that I owed it to my kids and to the ten years I'd lost, to really give him one real chance. Without prompting or suggesting anything, I let him know I was just going to stand back and see what he could do. What was important to him to change, to do, etc. He started going to church again, and signed us up for the study group. He also started counseling, which he still goes to.
All this time we've been going to our group, we've never actually said what happened, though have made it known that our marriage was on the line. Finally last night, we were flat out asked, and so we told. I don't have a problem telling. There were times I'd wanted to relate to others in the group by saying something about our situation, but didn't, because my husband doesn't like talking about it. He obviously has a hard time telling people the truth, but in a way, I understand. I don't have a problem, because I haven't done anything wrong. He doesn't want to tell because he's embarrassed for being a giant piece of inconsiderate trash who shit on his marriage, multiple times and he's going to be judged for it. I get it.
Two of the other couples there said that they could relate because they had that happen in their marriages, but it was the women who had done it. For some reason, I just really and truly can't, no matter how hard I try - understand it. I would never, ever do that to someone. That's the ultimate worst thing in my book. You do not, treat anyone that way. You don't lie and break trust like that. There are just so many other options. I just can't relate, and just can't understand. Which is saying a lot for me, because I'm the type of person who is open minded enough to be able to see things from all sides, and all points of view. Maybe I can see, I just refuse to give any fucks, because I've been so hurt by those things over the last ten years.
Anyway, It's been since September now, and I feel like we've almost fallen back into the same old routines. It's scary for me, and makes me sad. All the things that led to our unhappiness before, are creeping back in. My husband is struggling with building a relationship with the Lord, and I know it's the only thing that can save our marriage. Yet, I'm almost waiting for him to build a relationship, banking on him to be the one who helps to strengthen my faith and get me into a better routine, too. I don't know. I feel like we're just floating along right now, slowly going back to old ways, not really changing. It's terrifying. Because if that's what's going to happen, I know it's definitely over.
My stepdad once told me that he believes "mom brain" happens because your mind is purging and sorting old information and memories to make room for all the new things you have to know and that you're going to learn, and of course, being tired doesn't help. I thought that was pretty wise, especially coming from a man, who'd never had mom brain.
Here's the Signs You're a Hot Mess Mom video. There are a few by these hilarious ladies that incorporate the different kinds of moms, but boy is this pretty spot on! Seriously, search for the others though. They may be even funnier.
On Monday after I dropped my daughter off at school, I came home and realized we'd left her books in her room. Again. So, I loaded up the baby, and the books, and trekked back up to school. Her teacher didn't have the class in the room, so I asked if she needed help with anything, since I was already there. You know that moment, where your brain and your heart are NOT on the same page? I was asking to help her out of the kindness of my heart, but my brain was screaming at me to shut my trap because I had no time at all for that, or the capacity.
She definitely had work. I took home twenty something folders that I traced a snowman on one side, and Christmas tree on the other. It took ages with the baby. It was very unwise considering I was leading the Girl Scout troop on Wednesday, and the procrastinator in me hadn't even planned it yet. Luckily I got the folders done and back to her teacher the next day, and planned the meeting which went off without a hitch. The girls loved me, thank goodness - because we all know how blatantly
We played a jump over the tape sort of game where the girls stood on a long piece of tape and I said a scenario, if it was a nice, considerate, caring, friendly thing, they jumped forward. If it wasn't, they jumped back. They had to decide, and they did a fantastic job. The other activity, we sat in a big circle with a fluffy ball. We picked another girl and said something nice about her, and then tossed her the ball and continued on until all the girls had had something lovely said about them at least once. There was time leftover so on a whim we did some role-playing. I put the girls in situations and asked them how they should handle them. We read a couple of stories and overall had a fabulous meeting.
I volunteered for this one specifically because there's a girl in the troop who is also in my daughter's class, who doesn't treat her well. She's a bully, but not in your typical kindergarten sense, which is totally surprising to me. I didn't realize kindergarteners already knew how to bully, first. But this little girl isn't just outwardly mean, she's manipulative, and it blows my mind. My daughter comes home telling me stories about things that they did, excited, but I'm staring blankly at her, not understanding how she can't comprehend how mean that the other little girl was being. It makes me sick, and angry, you know?
So I was hoping to be able to teach the girls a little bit about treating others the way you want to be treated, and thinking about how the people around you feel and such. I think we did well. Hopefully it sticks with them. And Praise the Lord for making it through the day! I woke up with a migraine, of course. I took my meds four times and still couldn't kick it. So I suffered through the day and the meeting and came home and crashed at 8:30 with the kids. I hate how the migraines linger the next day though. Even if my head doesn't hurt, I still don't have any appetite and amd in a fog. More-so than usual of course.
My husband and I have been going to a Bible study group for a couple of months now. It's with other married couples around our age with kids around our kids ages. We'd talked about finding friends like that for years, but never made a move on it. Then he cheated on me after hanging out with a shitty single friend who needed a "wing man". I honestly am not even sure how I'm still in this marriage. I was sure that we were through. This wasn't the first time he's done this to me. And as devastating as the times before this were, it was almost as if I expected it this time, deep down inside. Which is strange, because it completely blindsided me. I cried for maybe a day, but more almost in mourning of the ten years I'd lost and for my children. Then I couldn't cry anymore.
After a couple of weeks of him not living here and begging for another chance to really make a real change, I decided that I owed it to my kids and to the ten years I'd lost, to really give him one real chance. Without prompting or suggesting anything, I let him know I was just going to stand back and see what he could do. What was important to him to change, to do, etc. He started going to church again, and signed us up for the study group. He also started counseling, which he still goes to.
All this time we've been going to our group, we've never actually said what happened, though have made it known that our marriage was on the line. Finally last night, we were flat out asked, and so we told. I don't have a problem telling. There were times I'd wanted to relate to others in the group by saying something about our situation, but didn't, because my husband doesn't like talking about it. He obviously has a hard time telling people the truth, but in a way, I understand. I don't have a problem, because I haven't done anything wrong. He doesn't want to tell because he's embarrassed for being a giant piece of inconsiderate trash who shit on his marriage, multiple times and he's going to be judged for it. I get it.
Two of the other couples there said that they could relate because they had that happen in their marriages, but it was the women who had done it. For some reason, I just really and truly can't, no matter how hard I try - understand it. I would never, ever do that to someone. That's the ultimate worst thing in my book. You do not, treat anyone that way. You don't lie and break trust like that. There are just so many other options. I just can't relate, and just can't understand. Which is saying a lot for me, because I'm the type of person who is open minded enough to be able to see things from all sides, and all points of view. Maybe I can see, I just refuse to give any fucks, because I've been so hurt by those things over the last ten years.
Anyway, It's been since September now, and I feel like we've almost fallen back into the same old routines. It's scary for me, and makes me sad. All the things that led to our unhappiness before, are creeping back in. My husband is struggling with building a relationship with the Lord, and I know it's the only thing that can save our marriage. Yet, I'm almost waiting for him to build a relationship, banking on him to be the one who helps to strengthen my faith and get me into a better routine, too. I don't know. I feel like we're just floating along right now, slowly going back to old ways, not really changing. It's terrifying. Because if that's what's going to happen, I know it's definitely over.
Friday, November 11, 2016
Presidential Election
How about that election, amiright? It's hard to fathom how divided our country is. Putting aside all of my own opinions, views and preferences; taking myself out of the vote and just looking at the people of this country... I'm deeply saddened. People who supported Hillary Clinton and feared things they claimed Donald Trump to be; racist, sexist, violent, bigoted, and more, are doing exactly all of those things right now in response to his win. His fair win, mind you. If you can call all that the media and Hillary did to foil him, fair. They're rioting, lighting the American flag on fire, pulling people from their cars to beat them up under the "assumption" that they voted for Trump, spray painting monuments and more. All of the things they were against, are the things they're doing now. They resemble children who didn't get their way, and who are throwing giant temper tantrums. Many people considered the Hillary supporters to be the sort of people who believe themselves entitled to all things. They were said to be a generation who were so coddled, that they had to have "safe places" and needed trophies for 20th place because "it wasn't fair". They were called liberals who shoved their views and opinions down the throats of everyone around them, wanting laws and rules to cater to them rather than simply include them. Then it was said that the Trump win was the backlash from the majority finally having enough of that.
It's hard being someone who sits in the middle, and sees both sides. Listening to friends and family and strangers and hearing their opinions, views and fears, and understanding. Everyone wants change. But people are failing to realize that we're all really on the same side. We all want a safe and healthy world for the future of our children and grandchildren. We do want equality. We want a world of love and kindness. There are certainly extremists. There are definitely racists, sexists, bigots and ignorant intolerant blatant assholes. But those people are on both sides. Some of them, didn't even vote at all. We have to unite and come together as a people to make real changes. The president isn't going to make changes in your school, your neighborhood, or the relationships of you with your family and friends. It's still up to you to show the world love and kindness and to teach it to your children. We can successfully leave behind and even change the hearts of the bitter, hateful people who both voted for Hillary, and who voted for Trump. Violence, doesn't solve violence and hate only breeds hate. We can make a difference in the world, way more so than our elected president. People are putting too much faith in a single person to get things done in a world they want to see love, kindness and acceptance in. Especially by violently protesting the very system that allows all of that to be possible.
I've been thinking about almost nothing since the election, but the election and the things that have followed. I've been reading, and listening and watching. I've been thinking, feeling, hurting and fuming. It's been hard to place myself in firm decisions and opinions about what's been happening. I agree and disagree with so much at the very same time. I think that it probably isn't very far fetched to assume that I'm not the only person out there who feels this way. Or who would stand up and fight for people of color, members of the LGBT, our veterans, or anyone else who's basic human rights are violated or who isn't being treated with equality. I'm not the only one who wants bad people and evil things to end, while being open to loving and teaching love. I can't say too much, since I'm still finding my own feelings and opinions through this time, but I know that I can be a good person no matter what. I can choose to be a person who's filled with love and hopes for a good world and who takes opportunities to show that to people and help change hard hearts through kindness instead of hatred and opposition (considering that never works - why don't people see that?).
I think that's one of my biggest pet peeves. The soap box of social media where people seem to think that berating, belittling and slandering other people and things, will actually change their minds and opinions about something. My mother is a prime example of this. People need to realize that the moment you start to attack someone, they put up a wall. They go into automatic defense mode, and the things you say, even if you are a hundred percent right, will go in one ear and out the other while they're simply trying to defend themselves against your attack. People seem to forget that there are real human beings on the other end of that comment or post. The majority of the time, the things people say, they would never say to someone's face directly. Because that isn't how you should treat or talk to someone. Yet they become keyboard warriors on the computer, not giving any fucks about anyone else's feelings or views. If you want to change someone's mind or heart, start with gentle education, love and kindness. Otherwise you're wasting your breath and giving everyone gray hairs.
It's hard being someone who sits in the middle, and sees both sides. Listening to friends and family and strangers and hearing their opinions, views and fears, and understanding. Everyone wants change. But people are failing to realize that we're all really on the same side. We all want a safe and healthy world for the future of our children and grandchildren. We do want equality. We want a world of love and kindness. There are certainly extremists. There are definitely racists, sexists, bigots and ignorant intolerant blatant assholes. But those people are on both sides. Some of them, didn't even vote at all. We have to unite and come together as a people to make real changes. The president isn't going to make changes in your school, your neighborhood, or the relationships of you with your family and friends. It's still up to you to show the world love and kindness and to teach it to your children. We can successfully leave behind and even change the hearts of the bitter, hateful people who both voted for Hillary, and who voted for Trump. Violence, doesn't solve violence and hate only breeds hate. We can make a difference in the world, way more so than our elected president. People are putting too much faith in a single person to get things done in a world they want to see love, kindness and acceptance in. Especially by violently protesting the very system that allows all of that to be possible.
I've been thinking about almost nothing since the election, but the election and the things that have followed. I've been reading, and listening and watching. I've been thinking, feeling, hurting and fuming. It's been hard to place myself in firm decisions and opinions about what's been happening. I agree and disagree with so much at the very same time. I think that it probably isn't very far fetched to assume that I'm not the only person out there who feels this way. Or who would stand up and fight for people of color, members of the LGBT, our veterans, or anyone else who's basic human rights are violated or who isn't being treated with equality. I'm not the only one who wants bad people and evil things to end, while being open to loving and teaching love. I can't say too much, since I'm still finding my own feelings and opinions through this time, but I know that I can be a good person no matter what. I can choose to be a person who's filled with love and hopes for a good world and who takes opportunities to show that to people and help change hard hearts through kindness instead of hatred and opposition (considering that never works - why don't people see that?).
I think that's one of my biggest pet peeves. The soap box of social media where people seem to think that berating, belittling and slandering other people and things, will actually change their minds and opinions about something. My mother is a prime example of this. People need to realize that the moment you start to attack someone, they put up a wall. They go into automatic defense mode, and the things you say, even if you are a hundred percent right, will go in one ear and out the other while they're simply trying to defend themselves against your attack. People seem to forget that there are real human beings on the other end of that comment or post. The majority of the time, the things people say, they would never say to someone's face directly. Because that isn't how you should treat or talk to someone. Yet they become keyboard warriors on the computer, not giving any fucks about anyone else's feelings or views. If you want to change someone's mind or heart, start with gentle education, love and kindness. Otherwise you're wasting your breath and giving everyone gray hairs.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Native American Ancestors
In reflection of the Dakota Access Pipeline, which is still currently a big deal with large protests, I wanted to talk about my ancestry. I'm part Choctaw, so my kids are, though less-so obviously. We are registered (my son is a work in progress - it takes a little while to register). When I was pregnant with my son, a little over a year ago I delved into my family history. More for my children, so I got into my husband's as well. But I knew I was part Native American and had heard stories growing up about my ancestors. I learned things in school about the settlers and the horrible things that happened to the "Indians".
While researching, my grandma brought me this print out from a book she has about some of our ancestors. This is what it says;
"Choctaw Original Enrollees
James Alexander Loran Robinson
Submitted By: James G Robinson. grandson
My great-grandparents (parents of enrollee) were James Robinson, born in Mississippi (date unknown) who married Emiline Folsom in Oklahoma after traveling in the "trail-of-tears". He passed away in 1902. Emiline Folsom, also born in Mississippi in 1839, lived until 1928. My parents (Calvin Calhoun Robinson & Verial Orinda Goddard) were married in 1926, and my mother related to me that Emiline spoke limited English but was able to express her vivid memories as a very young girl of the difficulties in journeying to Oklahoma. Great-grandmother Emiline apparently despised white people with a burning passion until the day she died. Very little was ever said about great-grandfather Robinson, as he had departed the scene before my father's birth in 1907.
As I previously commented, my grandfather James Robinson, was born in Blue, Oklahoma in 1859, and during his early years as a young adult was a hell-raiser. He ran with an infamous outlaw gang headed by two negro brothers for several years in Cherokee Strip country. So the story goes, he was eventually captured in Eastern Oklahoma Territory (e.1885) by the authorities and taken to Ft. Smith, Arkansas where he appeared before a federal judge (said to be "hanging" Judge Parker). He was sentenced to be hung if he did not divulge the gang's hideout locations. He replied that he could not do that, but if given the opportunity he would bring the gang leaders in himself. Because the authorities had spent years unable to capture the leaders, apparently the judge felt that he had nothing to lose. He struck a deal with my grandfather.
Reportedly, several weeks later, Mr. Robinson rode into Ft. Smithe leading two mules with the bodies of the two brothers draped across them. Subsequently, this same judge appointed grandfather Robinson as a Deputy U.S. Marshall, assigned to Indian Territory, where he served for many years before retiring in 1920.
During his service as Dep. U.S. Marshall, he killed many people, and created many enemies. When his first wife, Mary, died (e. 1900) after bearing six children, grandfather began "sparking" a farm-owning widow. One time, he departed for New Mexico to track down a wanted felon, expecting to be gone for many weeks. However in the Texas panhandle, after only a few days, he received a telegram that said felon had been caught and was being returned. Grandfather happily reversed course, looking forward to a reunion with his young widow friend. Arriving well after dark, he walked his horse across the rear yard to her bedroom from which window a light was showing. Expecting a glad welcome, he instead saw that she was in bed with another man. Without dismounting, he drew his .45 Colt and shot the man dead, through the open window, and rode away. In relating this incident to my father a few months before his death, my grandfather laughed heartily, thinking it was a grand joke.
Then, there was the instance about two years later (e.1903) when Mr. Robinson was sparking my future grandmother, Pearl Billingsley. They were at a country dance being held at a farmhouse when Mr. Robinson drew his .45 and shot a man dead in the middle of the dance floor - claimed the man had insulted his female partner.
Another anecdote; For several months he had pursued a woman wanted for murdering her husband with an axe, finally running her down in a flop-house in Chicago. He kicked her door in, catching her standng- alongside her bed dressed only in an underslip, and told her she was under arrest. She asked him to turn his back so that she could dress. He complied, but being experienced, placed himself so that he could watch her reflection in the dresser mirror. She instantly leaped to the bed, yanking the spread back to grab a pistol - he shot her dead.
Many times I asked my father about his dad, and usually would merely shake his head. When specifically asked, he said that his strongest memory of his father was the long periods of absence while off man hunting. Over the years, a fairly clear picture emerged of my grandfather, based on cryptic comments from my parents, uncles and aunts. He was physically and mentally tough; generous to a fault with his friends, vicious mean with his enemies; indeed, he was a very, very dangerous man who would not argue with anyone.....his word was final and absolute, and he brooked no arguments. EVERYONE addressed him as Mister Robinson---including his wife, children and all acquaintances. Until he became bedridden a few weeks before his death, he rode his gray horse, packing his old .45 Colt, with his Winchester .30-30 across the saddle pommel.
Maybe the federal Judge knew what he was doing when he appointed him as a Deputy U.S. Marshall - send someone after the outlaws who was tougher and meaner than they were.
Great grandfather - James Robinson (#863)
Born: Date unk - Mississippi
Died: 1902 - Stephens County, Ok
Great grandmother - Emiline Folsom (#743)"
That's the last I have in the printout. So these were my great great great great great grandparents on my mother's side. Five greats. I'm still trying to piece some of the details. Are the numbers listed there, their ID numbers? Because I thought I'd been told that it was Emiline that was the Choctaw. But she hated the white man until her passing, so either something strange or even unwilling came along there, or James was also Choctaw? I'm not really sure. The family history stuff is actually incredibly confusing to me. Especially since I signed up for Ancestry, and there are so many conflicting pieces. Even with James and Emiline, or Emeline, as she's listed there. I wish it was all much simpler to understand, as it's incredibly interesting.
While researching, my grandma brought me this print out from a book she has about some of our ancestors. This is what it says;
"Choctaw Original Enrollees
James Alexander Loran Robinson
Submitted By: James G Robinson. grandson
My great-grandparents (parents of enrollee) were James Robinson, born in Mississippi (date unknown) who married Emiline Folsom in Oklahoma after traveling in the "trail-of-tears". He passed away in 1902. Emiline Folsom, also born in Mississippi in 1839, lived until 1928. My parents (Calvin Calhoun Robinson & Verial Orinda Goddard) were married in 1926, and my mother related to me that Emiline spoke limited English but was able to express her vivid memories as a very young girl of the difficulties in journeying to Oklahoma. Great-grandmother Emiline apparently despised white people with a burning passion until the day she died. Very little was ever said about great-grandfather Robinson, as he had departed the scene before my father's birth in 1907.
As I previously commented, my grandfather James Robinson, was born in Blue, Oklahoma in 1859, and during his early years as a young adult was a hell-raiser. He ran with an infamous outlaw gang headed by two negro brothers for several years in Cherokee Strip country. So the story goes, he was eventually captured in Eastern Oklahoma Territory (e.1885) by the authorities and taken to Ft. Smith, Arkansas where he appeared before a federal judge (said to be "hanging" Judge Parker). He was sentenced to be hung if he did not divulge the gang's hideout locations. He replied that he could not do that, but if given the opportunity he would bring the gang leaders in himself. Because the authorities had spent years unable to capture the leaders, apparently the judge felt that he had nothing to lose. He struck a deal with my grandfather.
Reportedly, several weeks later, Mr. Robinson rode into Ft. Smithe leading two mules with the bodies of the two brothers draped across them. Subsequently, this same judge appointed grandfather Robinson as a Deputy U.S. Marshall, assigned to Indian Territory, where he served for many years before retiring in 1920.
During his service as Dep. U.S. Marshall, he killed many people, and created many enemies. When his first wife, Mary, died (e. 1900) after bearing six children, grandfather began "sparking" a farm-owning widow. One time, he departed for New Mexico to track down a wanted felon, expecting to be gone for many weeks. However in the Texas panhandle, after only a few days, he received a telegram that said felon had been caught and was being returned. Grandfather happily reversed course, looking forward to a reunion with his young widow friend. Arriving well after dark, he walked his horse across the rear yard to her bedroom from which window a light was showing. Expecting a glad welcome, he instead saw that she was in bed with another man. Without dismounting, he drew his .45 Colt and shot the man dead, through the open window, and rode away. In relating this incident to my father a few months before his death, my grandfather laughed heartily, thinking it was a grand joke.
Then, there was the instance about two years later (e.1903) when Mr. Robinson was sparking my future grandmother, Pearl Billingsley. They were at a country dance being held at a farmhouse when Mr. Robinson drew his .45 and shot a man dead in the middle of the dance floor - claimed the man had insulted his female partner.
Another anecdote; For several months he had pursued a woman wanted for murdering her husband with an axe, finally running her down in a flop-house in Chicago. He kicked her door in, catching her standng- alongside her bed dressed only in an underslip, and told her she was under arrest. She asked him to turn his back so that she could dress. He complied, but being experienced, placed himself so that he could watch her reflection in the dresser mirror. She instantly leaped to the bed, yanking the spread back to grab a pistol - he shot her dead.
Many times I asked my father about his dad, and usually would merely shake his head. When specifically asked, he said that his strongest memory of his father was the long periods of absence while off man hunting. Over the years, a fairly clear picture emerged of my grandfather, based on cryptic comments from my parents, uncles and aunts. He was physically and mentally tough; generous to a fault with his friends, vicious mean with his enemies; indeed, he was a very, very dangerous man who would not argue with anyone.....his word was final and absolute, and he brooked no arguments. EVERYONE addressed him as Mister Robinson---including his wife, children and all acquaintances. Until he became bedridden a few weeks before his death, he rode his gray horse, packing his old .45 Colt, with his Winchester .30-30 across the saddle pommel.
Maybe the federal Judge knew what he was doing when he appointed him as a Deputy U.S. Marshall - send someone after the outlaws who was tougher and meaner than they were.
Great grandfather - James Robinson (#863)
Born: Date unk - Mississippi
Died: 1902 - Stephens County, Ok
Great grandmother - Emiline Folsom (#743)"
That's the last I have in the printout. So these were my great great great great great grandparents on my mother's side. Five greats. I'm still trying to piece some of the details. Are the numbers listed there, their ID numbers? Because I thought I'd been told that it was Emiline that was the Choctaw. But she hated the white man until her passing, so either something strange or even unwilling came along there, or James was also Choctaw? I'm not really sure. The family history stuff is actually incredibly confusing to me. Especially since I signed up for Ancestry, and there are so many conflicting pieces. Even with James and Emiline, or Emeline, as she's listed there. I wish it was all much simpler to understand, as it's incredibly interesting.
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Stomach Flu
I must be getting old. I'm 28, but my body ain't havin' it. I felt a little unwell on Tuesday night but just blew it off as allergies, because, Texas. I woke up on Wednesday feeling really nauseous and achy to the point I asked my six year old if she wanted to stay home from school because I just couldn't manage getting myself dressed, the baby changed and her ready for school with a packed lunch and breakfast... Just couldn't even. I curled up in a blanket in the middle of the floor and threw in the towel. My husband didn't offer to take our daughter to school so she stayed with me, until she realized that she might miss a boy in class' show-and-tell day, and suddenly it was the end of the world if she didn't get to school asap. She made it in time.
So up I finally went and got her to school about an hour and a half late. She got her first tardy pass, but was happy (positive little thang) to know how that process worked for the future. I came home and declined rapidly. Here's where I insert TMI. With a clingy, hungry ten month old, I started throwing up. My husband had to come home for the rest of the day to babysit, because I couldn't come out of the bathroom for long. It was the worst. I'd go from constantly freezing, to throwing up and sweating, headached and miserable, and the muscles in my legs, butt, thighs and sides hurt to the bone.
The next day I woke up and was glad to realize it had been a few hours since I'd thrown up, which was a fab sign, since I'd been doing it every hour or so. I literally would have one sip of water, and up it would come. I couldn't keep down anything. I got so dehydrated that I was blacking out and my tongue was dry. If it had lasted much longer, I may have had to go in and get an IV.
I was still feeling like crap, but joyous to know I was on the up and ups, when the baby projectile vomited. Wednesday was a very long day. Between having a migraine, and being achy and nauseated, the ten month old caught my bug. Poor little guy sat in my lap all day, which he doesn't tend to do, loving to be on the move. We brought the rocking chair into the living room and played Baby Einstein all day while he nursed, threw up, slept, woke up to rock and watch BE, nursed, threw up and repeated.
Yet somehow, he kicked it (the throwing up bit) in about five hours. He seemed totally fine after that. He was even able to keep down Pedialyte and nurse well, whereas I, couldn't keep anything down for almost 24 hours, and here on Saturday am only at about 90%. It probably didn't help my case that I couldn't keep any nourishment and was still nursing. But we do what we do for the love of our babies. He's well and happy, and I'm, I'm almost there... Hashtag old. Or rather, hashtag mom. When you're sick and can't get a nap like the baby does all day, feed from your being, and still have to get up all night because no one else will, what do you really expect?
It doesn't help that my six year old is off from school today and I'm tired as I'll get out, buuut she can't stay quiet long enough to let the baby sleep for more than 30 minutes. Love her to bits, but this girl could not be quiet long enough to save her life. Lord never let her in a situation like that! I've finally got my appetite back to, almost, normal, so I think I'll try to make some apple turnovers. Extra apple for me, and zero apple for the picky textures eater. I'm so ready to be well again.
So up I finally went and got her to school about an hour and a half late. She got her first tardy pass, but was happy (positive little thang) to know how that process worked for the future. I came home and declined rapidly. Here's where I insert TMI. With a clingy, hungry ten month old, I started throwing up. My husband had to come home for the rest of the day to babysit, because I couldn't come out of the bathroom for long. It was the worst. I'd go from constantly freezing, to throwing up and sweating, headached and miserable, and the muscles in my legs, butt, thighs and sides hurt to the bone.
The next day I woke up and was glad to realize it had been a few hours since I'd thrown up, which was a fab sign, since I'd been doing it every hour or so. I literally would have one sip of water, and up it would come. I couldn't keep down anything. I got so dehydrated that I was blacking out and my tongue was dry. If it had lasted much longer, I may have had to go in and get an IV.
I was still feeling like crap, but joyous to know I was on the up and ups, when the baby projectile vomited. Wednesday was a very long day. Between having a migraine, and being achy and nauseated, the ten month old caught my bug. Poor little guy sat in my lap all day, which he doesn't tend to do, loving to be on the move. We brought the rocking chair into the living room and played Baby Einstein all day while he nursed, threw up, slept, woke up to rock and watch BE, nursed, threw up and repeated.
Yet somehow, he kicked it (the throwing up bit) in about five hours. He seemed totally fine after that. He was even able to keep down Pedialyte and nurse well, whereas I, couldn't keep anything down for almost 24 hours, and here on Saturday am only at about 90%. It probably didn't help my case that I couldn't keep any nourishment and was still nursing. But we do what we do for the love of our babies. He's well and happy, and I'm, I'm almost there... Hashtag old. Or rather, hashtag mom. When you're sick and can't get a nap like the baby does all day, feed from your being, and still have to get up all night because no one else will, what do you really expect?
It doesn't help that my six year old is off from school today and I'm tired as I'll get out, buuut she can't stay quiet long enough to let the baby sleep for more than 30 minutes. Love her to bits, but this girl could not be quiet long enough to save her life. Lord never let her in a situation like that! I've finally got my appetite back to, almost, normal, so I think I'll try to make some apple turnovers. Extra apple for me, and zero apple for the picky textures eater. I'm so ready to be well again.
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