Lex is upstairs asleep. Lorrie and Mel are curled up beside her. The tears have dried and all is right with the world. Lex didn’t mean to break down like that, but the children were so heartsick at causing the flooding that Lex couldn’t help herself. Soon, she was crying harder than they were. Talk about wrapped around her daughter’s fingers. Sheesh!

Lex had a successful business trip and arranged for the butchering and aging of the beef that we’ll supply to restaurants in the Austin and San Antonio areas. She’s really taken this ranch to new heights. Not to say that we are financially in the clear.

“We’ll be fine,” Lex said as she brushed her black hat against her jeans. “We just have to watch our spending for a while until we recoup our start-up expenses.”

“Um, how much ‘watch’ is ‘watch’?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Lex pulled me down onto her lap and gave me a kiss. Did I say I love my wife? Oh yeah!

“We have enough for our normal expenses and some money set aside for improvements and repairs.” She nuzzled my neck until I barely remembered that I was dreading telling her about the children flooding our ranch house.

“Uh, Lex?” Trying to keep my thoughts on track was getting to be impossible.

“Where are the girls?” Lex waggled her eyebrows suggestively and started pulling my shirt from my jeans.

“Shopping with Grandma and Grandpa. They decided to make barbecue tonight.”

“Good, why don’t we…”

I never did mention the floor to Lex. But as soon as our two little girls hit the front door, they were all over Lex, confessing everything, asking to have their allowances held until the floor was paid for, and asking if their mother still loved them.

By the time they got the whole story out, Lex was sobbing right along with them, distraught that her girls could think that they could ever do anything to make her stop loving them.

Well, they are asleep now. And I didn’t have to tell on Mel and Lorrie. I’d be with them, too, but at the moment, Mr. Edward Walters is in need of some strained peaches.

Gotta love ’em all.
Amanda.

It’s hard to believe that nearly eleven years have passed since Lex pulled me out of that storm ravaged river and brought me to her home to dry off and recover. Through rain and mud and exhaustion, we persevered until we made it to Lex’s ranch home. To our home. Our ranch. Our life.

Eleven years later, we have three children, formerly estranged relatives who have become family again, and family members who used to be strangers to us. Lex has changed from the lonely woman who bore the burden of running the ranch with only Martha as her calming influence to becoming the center of all our universes.

Lex is our life. She’s the reason we all became a family. We are all better because she took us into her heart. And she is better because she has been able to see herself as a loving, capable woman who means the world to each one of us. The one we want to be on our side when times are hard. The one we want to celebrate with when times are good. The one we’d protect to our last breath.

Still she doubts herself sometimes. Or doubts that she is enough for us. Or that she is giving us the lives we truly want. For years and years, only Martha was able to penetrate her thick head to let her know that she was precious and wonderful, and deserved a better life than she allowed herself.

But all that began to change when she went out to fix a fence on the far side of the property and ended up plunging into the swirling dangerous waters of that rain swollen river and brought my unconscious body out of my Mustang’s back window. She was my hero then and she is my hero now.

Most of all, she is my life. And each year that goes by is more precious than the last. Each addition to our family gives her even more of an opportunity to know herself as the generous center of our world that she is. And if we both survive parenthood, I hope she gets to see our children give to their families the same love, devotion, and spirit that she gives to ours.

The children. They want to stay up tonight to wish everyone a Happy New Year. Martha and Charlie will be coming over from their cottage. Martha complains that she’s a bit too old for such late hours. But Charlie ratted her out and told us how, on the cruise they took awhile back, that he had to drag her back to their cabin in the wee hours of the morning each night.

Ronnie and Nora are already here. Dad and Lois are on their way over, bringing much appreciated snacks and desserts for tonight. Ellie and Kylie, Jeannie, Rodney,and Teddy, my grandparents, and Roy and Helen will be welcoming in the new year with us. Hubert and Ramona promised to call.

The girls have made baby Eddie a Happy New Years hat our of construction paper. They even made a spare since he’s teething again and will probably slobber his first one to bits.

I may be older, see new gray hairs sprouting where I was all blonde all those years ago, but to me, each hair represents another moment and another memory of the love, laughter, and unrelenting joy that Lexington Walters brought to my life. To all our lives.

Amanda.

Every school kid I ever heard of has had to catch grasshoppers and other insects for their first science project of the year at least once in their life. For years, in most places, the kids all flocked through their neighborhoods or wildlife areas with their bottles that contained cotton balls soaked in formaldehyde. The idea was to catch the bug or insect and seal it in the bottle to numb the little critters into not caring that their little bodies were about to be pinned to a piece of Styrofoam board.

It was different in the upscale Los Angeles area we lived in when Jeannie and I were kids. The bugs had all pretty much departed for other locations due to the smog and the lack of a favorable environment. In fact, the only two critters that seem to have not minded the population growth are ants and roaches. Given that we were from a more affluent area, it was nearly impossible to collect anything without Mother having a hissy fit at the idea that any such animal might be present on their property, and Dad wondering why the servants couldn’t do the collecting for us back in their, less pristine, neighborhoods.

If a kid brought in a display that contained both an ant and a roach, then they might get a higher score than, say, a kid who only brought in ants. But nobody was going to be visiting their house soon. And there were no points for head lice.

So after our meager collections were presented, the teacher would organize a field trip to the natural history museum so that we could see more expansive bug and insect collections there.

Living in the country means we have ants and other various creepy crawlies, ants, and ants. My littlest child, Melanie, really got into the spirit of bug collection, quite to our surprise. Usually, Lorrie is the more adventurous of the two, but once she pointed out an ant colony to Mel, Mel was in heaven, dreaming of the award she’d get for bringing in the biggest collection of ants.

Once she had a jar full of ants, she branched out to pill bugs, palmettos and just about any creepy-crawlie thing that couldn’t run fast enough to get away from her. As for the formaldehyde, they don’t use that anymore. What’s toxic for the bugs is also toxic for the kiddies. So they just collect them and let them slowly die from lack of oxygen in the collection bottles.

Scene II: Martha and Charlie’s kitchen.

Martha was fixing lunch and chatting with me while Lex and Lorrie were heading towards the house to clean up after fixing up the tack-room in the stable. Charlie was keeping Mel entertained and asked what she’d been up to lately.

The next thing I knew, I heard a “I’ll be right back, Mommy!” and the back door slam.

“She said she wanted to show me what she was working on,” Charlie offered. Then he shrugged his shoulders and reached for the newspaper.

A few minutes later, the back door slammed again. “Here it is, Granpa Charlie!” Mel tripped over her own feet and dropped her bundle, which included glass jars full of insects.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I realized that the only reason Mel would have glass jars would be her insect collection. “Mel!” It was too late. Fire ants and palmetto bugs that were newly caught swarmed from the broken mayonnaise jar Mel had confined them in. Charlie grabbed Mel and took her out back to hose her off. The ants spread quickly and headed for the kitchen. Martha and I grabbed the lunch she had just prepared and ran.

Lex and Lorrie, cleaned up and in clean work clothes, were coming down the stairs when Martha and I flew through the front door with Charlie and a completely soaked Mel right behind us. Everyone was talking, shouting, and laughing at once. Mel was crying for her lost insect collection.

Lex and Lorrie just stood there at the bottom of the stairs and took it all in before turning toward each other and slapping hands in a “high-five”. “For once, it wasn’t us, Lorrie!” Then Lex and Lorrie stuck their tongues out at the rest of us and ran back up the stairs until the smell of food lured them back down.

That’s okay. Lex can write the note to Melanie’s teacher.

Amanda.

I don’t think I tell my sister enough about how much I admire her. She was standing out by the back door, watching Teddy, Lorrie, and Mel playing on the swing set. She cleared her throat a bit and sighed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was thinking about Lorrie and Teddy and how she only got to be the mother of one of the two children that she gave birth to.

Lex came up behind me and put her arm around me as I stood down the hallway and watched my sister as she watched the kids. Lex leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and then nudged me in Jeannie’s direction.

I was a little on the nervous side as I approached her. I put my hands on Jeannie’s shoulders and turned her towards me. “Thank you.” That’s all I said, but the gazes that passed between us said volumes.

Jeannie hugged me until I thought she would never let go. I hugged her back just as hard. Raising her head from my shoulder, Jeannie spotted Lex wiping a tear from her eye. She gave me one more squeeze and shouted, “GROUP HUG!”. She tore after Lex and chased her around the house until Lex bolted out the front door. Naturally, I was running right after them, laughing and crying at the same time.

Martha was on the way up to the house from her cottage about that time. She put her hands on her hips in true Martha fashion, and called out, “Lexie! What have I told you about running in the house?”

Lex was so surprised that she stood stock still, which, of course, gave Jeannie and me just enough of a break to tackle Lex to the ground. Followed by the kids, yelling, laughing and hurling their short little bodies at the pile of mothers on the ground.

“Lost their minds. I knew it was just a matter of time, but they’ve gone completely insane.” Martha shook her head. As for us, we were totally lost to our laughing and playing. “C’mon, Freckles. Maybe I can make lunch for you.” Freckles happily barked her agreement.

I love my family.

Amanda.

The first thing I am going to do today is to go to town and buy a lock for our bedroom door.

I remember years ago when all we had to worry about was Martha waking us up when Lex and I had gone to bed au naturale. Now we have the kids.

“Momma? How come your pajamas are on inside out?”

“Mommy? How come Momma’s pajamas…Mommy where are your pajamas?”

For many years, we were able to convince the girls of some ridiculous reason our pajamas had other places to be, other than on our bodies. But Lorrie got old enough for “the talk”. You know the one.

Lex and I argued for days about who should have the honor of explaining to our daughter what she had probably figured out on her own already. Neither one of us wanted to face her alone, so we eventually came to the conclusion that two parents were safer than one.

Needless to say, it was an enlightening talk, and when it was over, we learned much more about what our daughter was aware of. Much more.

Last weekend, while shopping with my grandmother, Lex, and the kids, Lex took the girls to the cookie vendor at the food court. While we waited, my grandmother and I stood outside of Victoria’s Secret . I spied a red teddy in the shop’s window and by the way I kept staring at it, my grandmother easily deduced that I wanted to buy the teddy for Lex.

“Don’t you think Lex would look amazing in that teddy, Dearest? Red is such a good color on her.”

My head whipped around to stare open-mouthed at my grandmother, MY GRANDMOTHER, who wore a smug look on her face at my discomfiture.

“Ub..um…GRANDMA! I…you’re not supposed…GRANDMA!”

Later on, my grandmother said that the shocked expression on my face was priceless. I was shocked to the core at hearing MY GRANDMOTHER making a comment like that. While I stood there trying to get my mind back from the billions of pieces it had exploded into, MY GRANDMOTHER marched right into Victoria’s Secret and bought the red teddy. I have to say, the look on the sales girl’s face was great, as she tried not to show her own disbelief of my grandmother buying such an item.

Grandma had the teddy gift-wrapped and attached a card that simply said, “From an admirer.” By the time Lex showed up with the kids, my grandma had slipped the wrapped package under my arm and had given me a wink.

“Watcha got?” Lex asked. Melanie’s attention seem wholly absorbed by her cookie. But Lorrie, the observant one piped up.

“Mommy, why is your face all red? Hey! Victoria’s Secret? Isn’t that the one on TV that has all those…um..ooooh! Hey mom, didja buy something there? Gonna show us?”

The redder my face got, the more questions Lorrie asked. And the harder she and my grandmother laughed. Lex was much more appreciative and saved her comments for when the package was unwrapped at home. Although, she insisted that I try on the teddy first.

That night, I peeked out from behind the bathroom door to see Lex perched on the bed with an expectant smirk on her face. With her encouragement, I walked up to Lex so that she could…um…examine the outfit. Just as she was exploring how well the teddy fit my curves, with her lips and hands, guess who barges into our room?

Like I said. I’m buying a lock.
Amanda

My sister Jeannie complains that I don’t take her culinary skills seriously. I told her that I really do. Every new cooking experience she has turns into a disaster. Heck, last Thanksgiving, even her own oven rebelled and refused to be involved in her first attempt at hosting Thanksgiving dinner at her house.

We usually host the holiday meals at our place since it’s big enough for our large, extended family and a few unexpected guests. But last year, it was just Jeannie and Rodney, their son, Teddy, and our little family of four. Martha and Charlie had gone to Florida for a short vacation with Amanda’s grandparents and her father and Lois, so Jeannie decided that it was the perfect opportunity for her little trio to be the family’s Thanksgiving hosts.

Everything seemed to be going fine, despite my prognostications of doom and inedible food. That was until the potatoes boiled over on the stove, causing the self-cleaning oven to lock up and auto-clean with the turkey and dressing still inside.

We had to banish the kids to the backyard to play when Teddy innocently asked: “Why does Mommy’s dinner smell so bad?” And Melanie complained, “Momma, can I have a peanut butter sandwich instead?” Of course, our diplomatic child, Lorrie, didn’t help much either when she told the other two kids, “Well, at least the oven will eat Aunt Jeannie’s cooking.”

When Jeannie realized there was no way to save the turkey, she was mortified and vowed to make good on our Thanksgiving meal. Lex and Jeannie took off to the supermarket for whatever they had available. Somehow, I had visions of a Thanksgiving Spam loaf, re-shaped like a turkey.

No sooner did Jeannie and Lex pull out of the driveway, than her husband and I came down with an uncontrollable case of the giggles. Pretending to be the turkey, Rodney got down by the oven door and begged in a high-pitched voice, “Help me! Get me out of here!” Then we proceeded to tell every bad turkey joke we could think of.

Me: “Why doesn’t a turkey cross the road like the chicken does?”
Rodney: “It’s stuck in the oven!”

Rodney: “What do you have when your turkey gets stuck in a self-cleaning oven?”
Me: “Something really fowl-smelling!”

Still laughing, Rodney got his tool box out, and together we dismantled the oven door, wrapped the horrible looking bird in newspaper, and I made a quick trip to the nearest dumpster to dispose of the evidence.

By the time that Lex and Jeannie got back with our substitute Thanksgiving dinner, the door was back on the oven, the kitchen was clean, and the tools had been put away. As for the oven, it never cooked another meal. It simply refused to cook anything Jeannie put inside of it.

But Jeannie wants to try again. No way! This year, Thanksgiving is at the RockingW.

Amanda.

When Lexington Marie Walters laughs, my heart feels like it will burst with its own joy. She has a deep, infectious laugh that lights up her eyes and lets you see the beautiful person within.

When Lex runs her hands through my hair, I feel warm and loved. The caressing is so intimate that it brings tears to my eyes and a sense of love and devotion that is immeasurable.

When Lex compliments my looks, I feel like the most precious, cherished woman in the world. Ah, Lex. What your laughter, your fingers running through my hair, and your compliments do for me!

My hairdresser is unavailable and my hair has needed a good trim for a few weeks now. Finally tired of the struggle to keep it tamed and unable to sleep with my hair falling into my eyes, I got up in the middle of the night to trim my bangs and mistook straight edged scissors for thinning shears.

This morning, Lex laughed as she ran her fingers through what was left of my bangs, and said, “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll grow back.” When I glared at her she added, “Really, it’s not too bad. Maybe a shorter look works for you.”

Somehow, her laughter, the feel of her fingers in my hair, and her compliments had the complete opposite effect than they usually do. And I could swear, as she retreated from the bedroom, she mumbled, “And we tell the kids not to play with scissors.”

OMG! The kids! Lorrie and Mel are going to have a field day with this!
Amanda