Reflecting on the year…

This year has been an eventful one for us. Some of the high (and low) lights include:

Welcoming a new niece into the world.

Working shoulder to shoulder and traveling across the country with one of my favorite people, Alicia Britt Chole.

Enduring the disillusionment of career hopes deferred.

Waiting nearly two months with blind faith for employment meanwhile watching God work financial miracles on our behalf.

Successfully growing one tomato plant and one bell pepper plant in pots on the deck. Yeah!!

Spending many summer hours at the pool doing nothing other than catching my kids as they gleefully jumped in from the side.

Landscaping the front of our house.

Joining the church orchestra.

Carson beginning Kindergarten.

Richard landing in job #3 for the year….and it's a great one!

Selling the house on Vine Street in Poplar Bluff in one day after suffering months with a bad renter.

Me sadly leaving Alicia to happily return to software engineering.

Beginning, finally, to make a few new friends in the area.

Richie is potty trained!

Celebrating Grandpa's graduation to Heaven.

When I think about all that has happened this year, I'm so grateful that there is a living God who offers hope. Not just hope in the hereafter, but hope NOW…for abundant life today. Even through some of our hard times this year, I know that God has been directing our path, has been with us, has provided for us and has made a way out for us. I'm looking forward to what He has in store for 2008. So, here's to a great New Year ahead with many blessings, opportunities and great memories….and, how about no job changes!? J

A Holiday Tradition since 2007....

There's nothing like a good old fashioned Christmas dinner. You know, the ones with family and friends gathered around the table joyously partaking of savory ham and casseroles, homemade bread and pies. And I should know because this year's Christmas evening dinner the total opposite of that delightful picture and most definitely the most bizarre of my lifetime. Due to the circumstances surrounding my Grandpa's funeral services, Christmas night found our family scattered about and in quite abnormal circumstances. Richard was at our home in Springfield alone. Mom, Dad and Lil Sis were at their home in Poplar Bluff playing board games and who knows what else. Lil Bro and his wife were across the sea in Scotland I was in a foreign-to-me town in Illinois with the three kids and my aunt.

It was only after driving into IL on Tuesday that we realized, oh yes, it's 6pm and we should eat. It was only after attempting to coordinate a meal with my uncle who was in nearby St. Louis with his family in a hotel that we discovered, oh yes, it's CHRISTMAS DAY and NOTHING IS OPEN. Aunt and kids and I decided to go it alone and ventured out to find something...anything...that might provide sustenance. Wal-Mart, closed. Culver's, closed. Steak-and-Shake, closed. St. Louis Bread Company (allow me to pause here and give thanks that they still call it that somewhere on the planet...Panera is such a lame name...), closed. That left us with Denny's...which didn't sound too bad, so we piled out of the van and eagerly filed in. And we waited. And waited. To be seated. Meanwhile the stench of cigarette smoke was seeping into our pores and I was wishing I had brought some masks for the kids. While there appeared to be plenty of seating, we were told it was a 45-minute wait on food. So, we moseyed back out to the van and spent 8 (hundred) minutes buckling the kids into their seats while the young childless couple who had been BEHIND us in the Denny's line raced out of the parking lot hoping to BEAT US to the only other lighted building in the area...the Waffle House. They did beat us. Congratulations and best Christmas wishes to them. But, we were still given a little booth right away. Joy.

Thankfully, the greasy pit where they make the food was in full view. Avery was enamored. She stood up in the booth for the first 15 minutes watching the cook's every move. We ordered off of the greasy menus and I was quick to pass around the Germ X. When I dared to ask the grumpy waitress if there was any fruit available she quickly responded with a jolly "It's not a health food store." Yes, clearly, and thanks for the confirmation as I wipe this grease out of my eye. Have I mentioned the grease yet? I just want to make sure that point was clear. It was greasy in there.

Midway through the meal, Richie had to go potty. Not wanting to add any bodily fluid to the greasy situation, I hopped up quickly toward the ladies room just as two women beat us to the door. When potty training, time is of the essence, so I decided to go where no ME has ever gone before. Into the men's bathroom. If all men's bathrooms are as delightful as the one in this IL Waffle House, dear heavenly help me as I vow to NEVER EVER go in one again. I will spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that it was nasty in there.....and I've never seen such in a public toilet IN MY LIFE. Richie finished his biz and we washed hands thoroughly and I’m pretty sure I RAN out of the bathroom, dodging the confused eyes of the small boy who greeted me on my way out no doubt wondering what in the world a grown woman was doing in the men’s room.

Nevertheless, once I settled into my meal it occurred to me with poignant clarity that THIS was my Christmas dinner for 2007. Ah, memories. I couldn’t help but notice the sign above the register acknowledging and thanking me for my choice. No, Waffle House, Thank YOU. Even though you were certainly not my first choice (or second, or hundredth), you did have the courtesy to be OPEN on Christmas night so that poor souls like Aunt, kids and me could at least have a bite to eat. And, little did I know that this has been a holiday tradition since 1955; your golden lights beaming into the Christmas night sky beckoning all who hunger into your greasy halls. And, I suppose the tradition will continue. I will just prefer to opt out….forever, henceforth.

Oh, and I would be remiss not to mention that Uncle D., Aunt L., their teenagers and Aunt L.’s parents ended up at a Hooters somewhere near us in St. Louis. Yes, my Christian Iowa relatives apparently donned blindfolds and read the Braille on the menus…oh no…wait…that’s not right. They partied it up like it was 2008! In fact, I’ve seen a picture of Aunt’s Dad, we’ll call him Grandpa D.M. snuggled up to three of the Hooter girls. I’ve been delaying on this post until I had that picture in my hot little hands, but it would appear that his kids are having mercy on him because I haven't received it yet....once that picture gets on the WORLD WIDE WEB, there’s no telling what all conservative Iowa heck might break loose!

Here’s hoping your Christmas dinner was all that you hoped it would be. And if it wasn’t, that you’re at least able to get a few good laughs out of it! Cheers!

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Tribute for Grandpa....

Below is the tribute on which my siblings and cousins and I collaborated and I delivered at Grandpa Seawel's funeral today, Christmas Eve 2007. I've posted it here at the request of the family.
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You have been known by many with many endearing names: Son, Brother, Uncle and Dad. But there are 12 of us (7 grandchildren and 5 great-grandchildren) with the high privilege of calling you by what we hope is one of your favorite names....Grandpa. And you bore the name as well as any grandpa ever could. Now today, we your grandchildren want to say Thank You.

Thank you, Grandpa, for the long walks in the woods down to the creek behind your house.

Thank you for dragging the mattress out to your deck so we could watch for shooting stars and sleep outside together.

Thank you for piling us into the king cab of your little blue Datsun truck and driving us over for swims and shell collecting in the creek at the end of BB Highway.

Thank you for not growing impatient with Carrie and me all those times we had the rumba drumbeat going on Grandma's organ a bit too loudly and probably 20 minutes too long.

Thank you for setting up the satellite television so we could watch Disney Channel cartoons in your living room on Saturday mornings.

Thank you for taking us on John Deere rides around your yard and pushing us in the big swings outside your house.

Thank you for letting Sarah nickname you Crap-paw when she was two years old. We all still get a big kick out of that...

Thank you for the numerous pancake breakfasts with your specialty maple syrup and for the wonderful food from your garden including chestnuts, cherries, blackberries and pears and your homemade peanut brittle that showed up every year at Christmastime.

Thank you for loving and caring for Grandma, especially when she was sick. Your example of love and commitment to her is a testament to your character and faithfulness to us all.

Thank you for just loving us all so much.

But mostly, Grandpa, thank you for choosing faith in Jesus - because in that one choice, you opened the door for your children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren to the most treasured inheritance of all and that is life eternal in Heaven.


How fitting that you should go at the time we celebrate the birth of our Lord. And rather than choosing to mark the Christmas season with sadness each year, we will now celebrate with even greater joy because it was the birth of our Savior, his death and resurrection that give us the hope and promise in knowing we will all be together again one day.

Please tell Grandma that we love her and miss her. And tell Uncle Stan and Uncle Jimmy that your grandkids can't wait to meet them.

And now, since we are surrounded by our own personal great cloud of witnesses, including you and Grandma who have been heroes to us in the faith, we your grandchildren will run with perseverance the races marked out for each of us knowing that you are watching, cheering us on in our faith. (Hebrews 12:1)

Grandpa, save a place for us at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb. And, if possible, please put in a special request for pancakes. We'll miss you, remember you with much love and we will see you soon.

Love,
Christie, Carrie, Dan, Sarah, Brandon, Jessi and Taylor
Emmaleigh, Carson, Avery, Richie and Ailee

Cute things my kids have said this weekend...

"Mommy, I think that must be God talking to us."
--Avery on the ride to Nana and Poppy's house when she discovered the sun rays streaming down out of the clouds. We later decided that what God must have been saying was that he had Grandpa up there with him and they were having a really fun time together.

"Oooh. I LOVE these! They're like shoes a PRINCE would wear."
--Carson upon my showing him the new black dress shoes I bought for him to wear to Grandpa Carson's funeral.

"Aunt Karen, did you know your dog is named after the capital city of North Carolina?"
--Carson after being introduced to the new puppy, "Riley"...which of course, sounds a lot like Raleigh.

I Can't HEAR You!

Today after church, we had our traditional Sunday afternoon meal….well…not really. We went to Back Yard Burgers. That can be a tradition too, right?

While there, Richie had to go potty. He’s been doing quite well with #1! We’re still working on #2 and that’s a whole different story. But, at BYB, it was #1. This may border on “too much information” but we teach our boys to use the toilet sitting down. Once they master the sitting, they may graduate to the standing. But, oh no, you may not BEGIN your potty training in an upright stance. Standing may be easier seeing as how all you have to do is…..AIM. But, the aim is usually off and that just creates all sorts of mess that neither Mommy nor Daddy want to deal with. So, sitting it is and that requires a few things: 1) that the britches be pulled ALL THE WAY DOWN otherwise you end up with pee on the outside of your pants 2) that a 2-foot something child hoist their little bottoms up onto the seat 3) that the little bottom manages to stay on the seat and not fall into the icy cavernous pool below and 4) that the “parts” are pointed in the right direction. Quite a lot to master!

My children have never enjoyed flushing the toilet….anywhere. They think it’s a cacophonous event lasting 5 terrifying seconds in which they are darn sure that noise is powerful enough to suck their little bodies right down with all the water. I find un-flushed toilets around here all the time. So, it was no surprise to me that Richie didn’t want to flush the gigantic BYB toilet. The part that cracked me up was that somewhere between undressing and hoisting and balancing and pointing he also managed to plug two fingers into both ears where he managed some sort of Zen-like balancing pose in which he remained upright, peed in the bowl, jumped down and waited for me to pull up his pants—all with his fingers in his ears. I asked if he wanted to flush and he said NO! and he stood facing the stall door until I opened it and he could dart to the far corner of the restroom while I flushed.

And I have to say…that toilet was AWFULLY loud!

Snow?

It didn't snow much here today, but these two certainly made the most of it! When it first started to flurry, Avery was sitting coloring a picture in the kitchen. I told her to look out the window. She took in a big surprised gulp of air and ran to look outside. About two seconds later, she sprinted downstairs to tell her daddy and brothers the big news!

I get excited about snow too. There's something about it that I find very calming - the softness of the flakes, the quiet hush outside. I just prefer to enjoy it from in front of the fireplace (with a warm blanket, cup of hot tea and a good book) instead of frolicking about outside like the kiddos! I hope we get at least one big snow this year. If we do, I may have to get out there with them and have some snowball fun!

Ballet...

Tonight was Avery’s ballet performance. She’s been working toward this with her little friends for weeks. Richard has been driving her into “town” every Tuesday night and she has worked so hard. The performance was part of The Messiah Project’s Christmas program and it was in a large performance hall. I was so proud of her for being so big and doing this on her own. However….

…Before you get any Grand visions of what something called “The Messiah Project” might entail, or start daydreaming about dancing fairies and sugar plums and the like, let me begin by telling you how our evening began.

Getting Avery’s hair and makeup just right and according to direct and exact specifications was something of trial. For one thing, she had to wear eyeliner. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of putting eyeliner on a four-year-old, but she may as well have been a greased pig with all the wiggling and squealing that was going on. At one point, I actually was holding her down on the bathroom floor while she was kicking and crying (with tiny tears smearing the eyeliner) with me standing over her saying all manner of sweet motherly things like “If you don’t HUSH right NOW this is going to be a DISASTER!” It’s a wonder she didn’t come out looking like a raccoon. And, please don’t even get me started on the whole hair in a bun thing. She cries when I brush her hair, so getting it up into a proper bun with bobby pins…geesh!

Then, of course, came the actual performance. She participated in two numbers during which most of her time was to be spent running with her hands outstretched in front of her follow-the-leader style with the other little ones and sitting with her hands folded in her lap. That doesn’t sound too difficult, does it? Well it isn’t…for most adults….and for the majority of her little ballet companions. However, it seemed a bit much for Avery. At one point during one of the sitting moments, she took it upon her nurturing self to reach over to her pint-sized neighbor, tap her on the shoulder and very demonstratively tell her to SCOOT BACK…YOU’RE NOT ON THE LINE. Ah well.

All in all, however, I was SO proud of her. She looked so beautiful in her little dress. She received high praises from her teachers. They’re very gracious souls. J If there are more ballet performances in our future, we have a few things to work on. But, we’ll get there. For our amateur shot, I’d say we did pretty well!

Utensil confusion...

So today, I was in the kitchen utensil aisle at Target a little harried and trying to keep the kids somewhat NEAR THE CART. Please don't ask me how many times I've said "get back here," "sit down," "please keep your hands to yourself," "hold on to the cart," etc. while shopping. There's not a number large enough for that answer. But, I digress....

Today I had great need of measuring spoons, cups and the like for all of the holiday baking I plan on doing. I was mid-thought, trying to decide between buying three individual items or buying 5 that were packaged together when Richie shouted, "Hey, MOM! I know what this is for!"

"What?" I said, not looking up from the neatly packaged box of Calphalon tools in my hands.

"Spankin'!" he said so that everyone in a 100 foot radius could hear. Nearby adults gasped.

I snapped my head in his direction and, sure enough, he was pointing right at a WOODEN SPOON. He's not yet three and I think I've already scarred him. He'll never look at spoons the same again.

Amazing things can happen in 4 months...

....especially when you're an incredibly intelligent 5-year-old with....ummm....yes....the world's BEST Kindergarten teacher! Carson is blowing my mind these days with all that he has learned. I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classroom for a day. Here are some of the things he's learning:

• He can recite all 50 states in alphabetical order.
• He knows all the capitals of all the states.
• He can recite Psalm 100.
• He can recite one verse beginning with every letter of the alphabet.
• He can play in a bell choir.
• He can recite poetry and songs that I've never heard.
• He can READ, people! ...books, signs on the side of road, his restaurant menu!
• He can dress himself completely in clothes that match (although I do still have to tie the shoes).
• He can spell pretty much any three or four letter word you ask of him.
• He can count money.
• He can tell time.
• He is learning to play the piano.
• Of all his paperwork that he's brought home from school (about 200 pieces), only 2 (TWO!) have been less than 100% correct.

All of this and more in just 4 months of Kindergarten! We are blessed with the best school and best teacher we could have imagined! On top of all that he is learning, I have to say that he is so polite, respectful and loving. A complete JOY to his mommy's heart.

Emergency extraction and mythical beings...

It came in at 4 months. At 18 months, it was chipped in a traumatic incident involving high velocity and a metal high chair leg. Since then, it's just been there....waiting....to fall out. Or, to be emergently extracted which is exactly what happened to Avery's front tooth on Thursday morning. We had the privilege of taking her to a wonderful pediatric dentist's office where the whole procedure was about as fun as an extraction ever could be. She had a tv with the Disney Channel on overhead the entire time. She was numbed a bit. Whimpered a bit. And then it was over. Following was about and hour of crying, but all in all, she was SO brave! She proudly carried her prize tooth in a giant tooth necklace and plastered free stickers on her shirt. She now sports about the cutest toothless grin I've ever seen. I think she'll be singing "All I Want For Christmas Is My 2 Front Teeth" for about 4 more Christmases, bless her little heart. It's the first tooth loss in our little family. She did great!

Interestingly, in the days prior to this landmark event, the kids had been asking about Santa and why we don't believe in him. I've explained to them that Santa is not real. He's just a fairy tale story about a man who lived a long time ago. I told them that some parents pretend that Santa leaves gifts for their children but really, it's the mom and dad leaving the gifts. "So.....their parents LIE????" my children gasp in horror. Well.......in short.....yes.

But, I'm guilty just as well. Because for whatever reason that I have yet to identify, as quickly as I proclaim the "ruse of Santa," I announced that the Tooth Fairy in all of her glory would be paying a visit to Avery on Thursday night. We talked all about what the Tooth Fairy might bring and how she would get into Avery's room in the middle of the night. Friday morning, when Avery bounded into the kitchen, she proudly displayed her Disney princess fingernail kit and 5 crisp dollar bills that were left for her.....by the Tooth Fairy. Because SHE'S REAL. And.....by george, Avery earned it!! (Even if I fibbed just a tad.)

Spanking gone awry....

We spank the children. Yep, I'll just put it right out there like that. Please don't send any child psychologists over. (I was spanked as a child...I turned out fine. I never felt unloved or abused nor am I scarred in any way....in case you were wondering.) We save the spankings for only the most severe of infractions and the boldest acts of defiance. It is rare, but it does happen. And when it happens, it always happens with the wooden spoon from the kitchen.

Tonight while I was whipping up a quick batch of tacos, Richie came in and saw that I was making rice....with the wooden spoon. He gingerly picked it up from the stove. He gave it a good look over and then asked me in a hushed tone that whispered of that wistful combination of two-year-old curiosity and mischief...."Can I spank myself?"

I nearly lost it right there. Seeing as how this was all so funny to Mommy, the rest of the children joined in and we had a bit of a play spanking free for all which finally ended when Mommy got spanked a little too hard with the spoon and the rule was laid down right then and there that the only people ever allowed to spank Mommy are Nana and Poppy and that just doesn't happen anymore!!

Fun crowd!

I just overheard Avery and Richie playing. She was "reading" to Richie out of one of their books a story in which Dora, Boots, Nana and Almighty God are packing for a trip to California. (Yes, she did use the exact phrase "Almighty God"...and very respectfully, I might add.)

I have to say that if I were going to California and I could choose any four people to take with me, these four would definitely be in the running!

Small victories....

Today I'd had enough. Richie will be 3 in two months and heaven help us, it's time the child was potty trained. Today was the day. All previous efforts had failed and the child had no interest. So, we went to the last resort....the "bare bottoms" technique. I need not describe that in any further detail. I'm sure you can picture it in your mind adequately for yourself.

All morning Richie was in his BB state. He hasn't an ounce of modesty, so this really wasn't a big deal to him. It started getting a little bizarre for me when he was doing back flips off the couch. But, I thought I'd best not stifle his freedom...it was after all in the best interest of humanity that we make this small sacrifice, enduring his nakedness, in order to get him trained.

From 9am until 11:30 he was BB. I fed him plenty of juice and water, so I knew he was primed. At 11:30am, the hour had come. I took my stand. I sat him on the potty and commanded him to GO. He cried. And screamed. And wailed. "I DON'T WANT TO GO PEE PEE! I DON'T WANT TO BE A BIG BOY!!! I WANT TO GET UP!!!!!!!!" This display lasted for about 10 minutes during which I was rehearsing the blog entry where I would tell all about how I'm a terrible mother for letting my child run around stark naked all day and then forcing him to sit on his potty chair for an entire quarter hour.

Then, it got quiet. Suspiciously quiet. I figured he was either asleep at the wheel or was busy knotting up an entire roll of toilet paper. I waited....and then....the SHOUT....."MOMMY! I DID IT!!!"

I burst into the bathroom and lo and behold....he did it. I don't think pee in a small bowl has ever looked so beautiful to me. Since the Brownes celebrate by dancing, Richie and Avery and I sprang into a new "Pee Pee Dance." We danced all the way into the kitchen where we each partook of 5 M & M's and rejoiced.

Small victory? Perhaps. But, it pretty much makes my month!

Making memories...

We spent Thanksgiving in Poplar Bluff with my parents and siblings. My kids started counting down the days to our visit about 3 weeks ago. There’s not much in their lives more exciting than visiting with Nana and Poppy. And, it’s no wonder. The weekend was full of all the things they love. Chocolate pie, pancakes, strawberry milk, movies, coloring, cookie baking, bubbles, bacon, giant indoor tents, the Wii, Go Fish and so much more.

It was a really nice weekend for me too. With all 15 or so of us piling into Mom and Dad’s place, their whole upstairs looks like a Toys R Us store ate a Thanksgiving dinner and then exploded leaving all sorts family shrapnel all over the house. But, it’s somewhat comforting to me…all the mess. I did try to clean up a few times, but to no lasting avail. I’m not sure if that big sister tendency of mine is more helpful or annoying. I guess it doesn’t really matter, because amid all the mayhem, I started really reflecting on what it is that I love so much about family and our times together.

Watching our relationships with one another is so interesting to me. The older cousins playing with the babies. Nana baking cookies with the grandkids. Siblings helping each other with their children. Grandparents, in that inevitable roll reversal that comes with age, caring for their own parents. Brothers relating to brothers-in-law. Even though sometimes we experience the “iron sharpening iron,” I know that we all love each other and the memories that we build during times like this will last for lifetimes.

Holidays in my childhood were similar, but I was on the “kid” end of the family. We would often go to Aunt Karen’s in St. Louis and looking back, those were the highlights of my childhood. Grandma cooking in the kitchen. Presents galore. Late night card games, bunking with my sister in the basement. I watched as the older family members experienced the “iron sharpening iron.” And, those times together gave me memories to last a lifetime.

When we said “goodbye” today, there were tears abounding. Mom cried. I cried. Carson and Avery cried. I think if I would have looked a little harder I might have seen my Dad with a tear welling up. I told the kids as we were pulling away that we should be so grateful for the memories that we’re making. I told them that the feeling that they had in their hearts in that moment was Love. Love for our family and appreciation for the memories that will hopefully last a lifetime. About 45 minutes later, Carson said, “Mom, I can stop crying now because I know how much Nana and Poppy love me.” Yes, they do.

And, we’ve started counting the days until our next time together. It’s 30….in case you were wondering.

Hanky waivin' frenzy....

Last night I cuddled up under the covers, grabbed the Tivo remote and saw that Oprah's Favorite Things was on. That show is such a hoot. The stuff she chooses is generally cool, but jeepers creepers the people on that show go so absolutely nut-ball-bonkers that it really is the most hilarious thing to watch.

She did the show in Macon, GA, which she says has historically had the highest Oprah show ratings. Evidently 45% of Macon-ites watch Oprah every day. When she announced that it was the Favorite Things show, I swear I have never seen such a hysterical, huggin-and-a-kissin your neighbor, tears a-streamin', screamin', shoutin', jumpin', and praisin' Jesus spectical in all my life. And, believe me, I've seen some crazy Jesus praisin' in my day.

It wouldn't surprise me at all to hear that they had medics on standby to deal with any hyperventilating, passing out, heart attack, black eye from yer neighbor, falling down bruises, busted ear drums and any other such stress-induced ailments.

Not to mention that Oprah caught a bit of her own bug and contracted some afflicted Southern accent for the entire show.......y'aalllll.

The whole thing is just nutty.

If I ever get tickets to that show, remind me to take a paper bag for my own hyperventilating fit which will no doubt overtake me.

Christmas lists...

I love Christmas lists. If you're in a family that doesn't implement a firm Christmas list policy, then I urge you to consider it. My family exchanges lists for each other so that we don't have to guess what to buy for every single person and I'm ensured that the gifts I receive will be way cool....because I chose them! Heh Heh.

I do understand how some folks may consider this Christmas selfishness. But, since the selfishness is two ways, I think it's totally cool. Easy shopping for the giver. Cool gifts for the receiver.

In previous years, our kids didn't really understand all that goes into Christmas lists and so I compiled lists for them. Oh, but this year is entirely different. With every toy magazine and newspaper flyer that comes into the house, they are pouring over them with pens handy. Carson's biggest concern is checking the appropriate ages for each of the gifts. If and only if the item says "Ages 5 and up" will it be considered for his list. Avery just pretty much wants anything pink, purple, princess or pony. Easy to please. Richie, I'm helping since he's still a bit too young.

For the last few years I've been using eToys.com. I will say that the prices are not always as low as what you might find on ToysRUs or Amazon, but they hooked me when they were one of the first sites that allowed a parent to easily track all of the lists for their kids with one login. So, once the magazines and flyers have been thoroughly inspected, I transfer the selections to eToys. We may be on the verge of giving eToys some sort website heart attack because I think there are about 500 items on each of my kids' lists! Ah well. It's fun for them and it's much of the joy of Christmas.

Fall fun...

When we moved back to the Springfield area last year, one thing we looked forward to was taking the kids to all sorts of activities in order to expose them to various learning opportunities. I know that Springfield is not exactly cultural mecca but it's a far cry better than the Missouri Bootheel from whence we came.

We took them to their first theatre production a few weeks ago to see My Little Pony--The World's Biggest Tea Party. As I suspected, they loved it. As I also suspected, Richard and I had more fun watching our kids' reactions to the whole display rather than the display itself. Although, I do think I caught Richard grooving ever so slightly to the purple dinosaur DJ who was working the turntables over some 70's disco song during one of the numbers.

We also took them to the Ozarko marching band festival at Missouri State. It is their heritage to participate in marching band...a blessing that Richard and I will both proudly (or perhaps not so proudly) pass on to them. It was all in all a very fun evening until Richie decided he needed to start climbing the stadium bleachers and yelling during every performance. Very bad marching band etiquette!

Space invaders...

Since the moment I first conceived, my children have been invading my space. First in the womb, and then in all manner of ways after their births. Since they've been getting older and more self-sufficient, I have noticed that they don't need me quite as much, they don't cling to me constantly like they used to and sometimes I miss it. Last night was not one of those times.

Richie has been in the unfortunate habit for a few weeks of crying around 1am. Normally, with the others, I would have driven a hard line and made them stay in their own bed even if they cried for awhile. But, with Carson in school and without the luxury of sleeping in until whenever, I don't want to let him cry it out. So, he's been coming in to sleep with Mommy and Daddy.

He brought, as usual, his own pillow and blanket to add to our already crowded space. Little Dude insistsed on sleeping in the middle. Then, since he had his own blanket, he proceeded to kick all of the covers down below his feet. This meant that I had to scrunch down to the middle of the bed to have any warmth for myself. BUT, that caused me to be right in the line of fire of his flailing limbs which he could not for heaven's sake keep still. I was kicked repeatedly about the head and back from 1:30am until 2:30am. When he wasn't kicking, he was scratching his leg. And scratching......and scratching.

At 2:30am, our daughter came in and said she was having bad thoughts. I mumbled something about turning on her closet light and she went back to bed. After another half hour of freezing and flailing with Richie, she came in again. Frustrated, I think I said something about bad thoughts being a choice and how she should choose to think about something good like candy canes and pink ponies. That didn't help as she went into her room and began to wail. Awesome.

So, I left Richie in the bed with Daddy hoping he wouldn't fall off the bed with all of his tossing and then let Avery sleep in the floor in the boys room (in Richie's normal preferred spot) and I took the bottom bunk under Carson. We were all invading each other's space. And after musical beds, I think I finally settled in for a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep except for the ocassional start as I rolled over to find the red, glowing Spiderman head night light staring directly into my bed.

Not the best night's sleep.

Famous people....

I was just enjoying my current favorite after-kid-bedtime/pre-my-bedtime lazy activity....watching Oprah on Tivo. They shot for a second over to Gayle King and it reminded me of the time I saw her live in the flesh and I nearly had a cow. I think it's so cool to hear stories about seeing famous people out and about in real life, so I wanted to do this post and invite everyone to respond about your brushes with famous people throughout your life. It does not count if you saw this famous person in their famous habitat. For example, I don't really need to know that you saw Billy Joel at his piano in concert. What I want to hear is that you saw Billy Joel in the back of a hay wagon in an Iowa Corn Days parade....or whatever. It needs to be one of those moments when you said to yourself (or out loud) "What the....???" "Is that.....????" "Oh my gosh!" You get it, right? So here are mine:

1. I saw Gayle King at the 2005 Men's NCAA Championship Basketball Game (between Illinois and North Carolina in St. Louis...North Carolina won, of course!! Yes!). She was in the bathroom at the same time as me and she also was seated about 4 rows in front of us. We had great seats. Also at this game, we (Richard and I) saw all sorts of various famous people from broadcasters, to coaches, to NBA players (like Carmello Anthony who was one row BEHIND us...did I mention we had great seats? Thanks Hansbroughs!) It was great. When I saw Gayle in the bathroom, I had an overwhelming urge to hug her. But, I refrained. Alas.

2. I once sat across from Naomi Judd in the airport. She was hiding behind gigantic sunglasses and a newspaper, but it was her, no doubt. She was about 5 feet away. She was also on our same flight to Virginia that day.

3. Same trip as #2, Richard and I saw Morgan Freeman get out of a black Lincoln in front of the Jefferson Memorial in Washington D.C.

Plant problems...

If any of you have seen the tragedy that IS the landscaping out front of my house recently, thank you for keeping your thoughts to yourself. When we moved in last September, this brown thumb girl inherited an overstocked plethora of annuals and perennials that would make a horticulturalist's head spin. As fall turned to winter, all I had out front of the house were piles of brown stick structures and dead leaves. I seriously had to call a landscaper to come over and pull out all the disposable junk (annuals) and leave behind the dormant (I thought, dead) perennials that I hoped would make a reappearance in Spring. Well, some of it reappeared. Some of it really was dead....and subsequently yanked when the weather warmed up. That left me with lots of bare spots this spring which I promptly filled in with nice little onesy-twosey annuals of varying color. That worked well until about mid Summer until it was evident marigolds (one orange, one yellow) were on a mission to overtake the entire yard. They truly were the biggest things that have ever grown under my care (well, other than my first and second born.....the plants ARE bigger than Richie). Meanwhile, all the nice little flowers died in the heat and weeds sprouted up everywhere. I couldn't keep them out. At one point I had weeds as big as the gangly marigolds. Grr.

So, at the inspiration of a landscapingly-gifted friend, I've decided to start afresh. Today, it began. I ripped out every single plant and weed save two that actually look decent. I got all of them out except for one. One particularly stubborn one at the end of the driveway. I first went after it with my shovel. But, it was attacking my legs with its thorny, overgrown limbs. So, I took the clippers (or whatever those giant scissor things are called) after it. After I had whittled back the tenticles I went after it again with the shovel. That crazy plant would NOT for love or money come out of the ground. I literally did not have the power to extract it. I hope my neighbors didn't see me because I was in all sorts of positions with that shovel that a girl really should never be. I tried standing on the shovel to get it to go deeper into the ground. When that didn't work, I jumped on it and nearly fell and broke my neck. I tried the backward push--leaning full force on the shovel in the opposite direction. I tried the see-saw, an incredibly unflattering pose in which the shovel was under the plant and my entire body was suspended in the air on the other end--all of my weight didn't make it budge. Now, I know I'm not a big person, but I would think that a full grown woman ought to have the power to uproot one medium-sized plant. I couldn't do it. It stands waiting for my super-strong husband to come home and flick it out of the ground with his pinky finger.

After that, I'll plant anew.

Carson's lip...

Today is Labor Day. I spent my morning at Urgent Care. Carson and Avery were playing around and she somehow caused him to fall into the couch (while he had a blanket around his head and face) and he busted his lip wide open on the couch. He came running into the kitchen, blood dripping--that's a sight that will get a mommy's heart racing! The cut was deeper than what I thought might have healed normally by itself, so after a quick call to our friend who is a doctor, we decided to run up to Urgent Care. There is a new clinic in our town that we decided to try. It seemed really nice...friendly people...and we didn't have to endure the unfortuante customary 45-60 minute wait that doctors normally require these days. We were in within 10 minutes...paperwork and all! The doctor decided that Carson needed one stitch in his lower lip. And, since a shot to numb the lip would cause the same amount of pain as one stitch, we decided to forego any proper anesthetic and just go for it! Carson's did get to spend 5 minutes up close and personal with an ice cube to help numb it, but by the time the doctor came back, the cube was melted and his lip didn't feel cold to me at all. But, my brave little boy laid right back and took the stitch without any problem at all! No crying or anything. He is awesome! He got a sucker and a sticker and the doctor prescribed ice cream for later today. :) They didn't have the dissolvable stitches on hand, so we have to go back in a week to have this one removed. The kicker is that this little procedure cost us $226!!! I mean, can someone please explain to me how in heaven's name one stitch can possibly cost that much? Oh, and that was AFTER they gave us the 30% self-pay discount. And, this is AFTER we already pay hundreds of dollars a month for health insurance that doesn't cover minor sick visits such as this. Grrr. Oh well....such is life. Thankfully he was able to handle the ordeal without pain medication....goodness knows that would have probably doubled the cost of the visit! One of our kids is going to have to become a doctor so that later in life our family can get free medical care.

Silence is golden...

For awhile now, Richard and I have been making time for monthly date nights. We have a fabulous babysitter that is scheduled for a certain night each month so that we can get out of the house. We used to joke when we were dating and first married about how we could always tell which couples in restaurants were dating and which were married (probably with kids). The ones who are dating are smiling, looking in one another's eyes, engaging in meaningful conversation, perhaps even holding hands. The married ones are not talking, not looking at each other, spend most of their meal in silence and certainly are not touching....except maybe to accidentally bump hands as they simultaneously reach for their shared appetizer. We have officially become the latter! When we go out to dinner, we don't say much. If we do talk, 80% of the time it has something to do with the kids. Rather than gazing deeply into one another's eyes he is usually watching whatever ballgame is on overhead (yes, we seem to usually chose "those" restaurants) and I'm studying the menu or staring blankly out into space. It's so funny! But, the reason we do this is not because we're disinterested in one another. I think it's because we are genuinely welcoming the silence. To have a meal in which we have the pleasure of not talking...not chopping up someone else's food...not cleaning a spill....not negotiating the last few bites of cheese among the kids....well, it's rather refreshing. Now I can empathize when we see those other married couples having dinner together in complete silence. It's not that they're upset or completely bored with one another. Chances are, they're relishing the quiet of a dinner without kids! And, chances are, these same people will do what most other married people we know do for after-dinner date activities.....no, not that! We all roam aimlessly around Target/Lowe's/The Mall with no agenda, making no stops at the "potty" and not carrying another human on our hip! So, date nights may not be what they used to be 10 years ago for us....but in some ways, they are equally satisfying. And, somehow just being with one's spouse, whether we're talking so much or not, really is bonding in its own special way.

Kindergarten, here we come...

Well, this is it. That day on the calendar that I've been so looking forward to and also quite dreading. The one that marks the last day that Carson (our oldest) is home with me. Tomorrow, he starts Kindergarten. I'm thinking of all that I have to do between now and then--pack his lunch (will he be able to open the yogurt top by himself? don't forget to send a spoon!), iron his little uniform (did I buy the right size pants? are his shoes solid-color enough to keep him out of the principal's office? for heaven's sake, don't forget his belt!), show him one more time how to use his alarm clock, make sure the camera has batteries (and plenty of free memory), read "the kissing hand" together (and try not to cry) and most of all PRAY (for his protection, for his learning opportunities, for his friendships and for all the other things I might forget or not even know to pray for but somehow that God in his grace will cover them anyway).

When we went to orientation on Friday, his new teacher greeted him and in the sweetest and most sincere voice she said, "Oh, Carson! It's so nice to meet you....I have been praying for you!" Yep, my tears instantly welled up a bit. How blessed we are to send our child to a place where he will be loved and cared for. It won't be like home, of course, but it will good in different ways. Heaven knows the child is ready. He reads everything he can to me and he hasn't had a day of school yet! It'll be awesome to see how much he learns this year.

Thankfully, my parents are coming over tonight and will be here to send Carson off in the morning with us. They'll also serve as tissue fetchers for me and as some distraction while from 8:15 until 3:00 I watch the clock and wait to go pick up my baby.

God is teaching me, though, that it is HE who loves Carson the most and it is HE who provides guidance, protection and who orders the steps of righteous men (and children). So, I'm reminded almost daily lately that even though he'll be out of my care, he's never out of our Father's care and I can rest and rejoice in that!

Back to the future....

Remember that part in Back to the Future where Michael J. Fox is standing in front of that giant tv screen and things pop up on demand? Or the scenes in Star Trek where people talk to the faceless whatever she is and ask for things and they appear? My house is slowly (or quickly) headed in that direction.

I have a degree in software engineering. I do understand a few things. But I am completely amazed at what Richard is doing in our home with the network. Somehow (and only he really knows WHY!), we have both DSL and Cable running into our house. We have servers that still do work for our business providing email and web hosting. We have cable tv (a recent switch from DirecTv). We have Tivo again (thank God because I hated that ridiculous HD-DVR from DirecTv). We have an XBox 360. We have our personal PCs and laptops.

Somehow he's engineered this place so that through our wireless network, we can share files across all of the devices. We can watch a slide show of our wedding photos via the XBox on the tv downstairs. We can download a movie off of the internet, store it on one of the servers and then import it into our Tivo box and watch it in the bedroom. We can listen to internet radio through the Tivo. It's unreal.

Pretty soon, the kids will be sending me video of their recess through their cell phones, I'll get a notification on my laptop and then send the video downstairs to watch it on the XBox! :) HA! Won't that be great.

"COMPUT--AH.....make my dinner, please!!!"

Oh, no she DI-IN'T!

I struggled with a title for this post because the story herein is so traumatic that I had trouble naming it with enough gravity. I think this one captures it....almost.

We took the kids out to the park tonight. It's a park that has one of those monstrous two-story ground-hog tunnel contraptions where kids can crawl hands and knees up to the top and slide down with glee. We were the only ones there and our kids were enjoying having the playground to themselves while Richard and I sat on a nearby bench in a rare moment of refreshing silence.

Avery came bounding over to us all cute with pony tail bouncing and skirt swishing around her knees. "Mom, I have to go pee." "You're gonna have to wait." "AWWWWWWWWWWW IIII CAAAN'TTTT" I've heard this before. Yes, she can wait. I responded with a sarcastic, "Well, I guess you'll just have to pee your pants then." She chirped a much too chipper "OK!" and ran off back to the playland. Richard was concerned that she took me seriously and I scoffed, "No she didn't! She knows not to pee in her pants."

Ten minutes later, Carson came running toward us and proclaimed...."Mom, Avery peed in the playland!"

It was one of those instants of maternal terror when you're worried not so much about what your child just said but if anyone in earshot was able to hear the horrific announcement. Seeing that we were alone with this jewel of knowledge, I probed for confirmation, "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Where?" "At the top of the slide."

Avery came out then looking normal as ever. I asked her to turn around and sure enough, the entire back of her skirt was soaking wet. Not only did she pee in playland, she didn't even have the courtesy to pull down her britches. I hung my head half wanting to laugh, half wanting to cry. I told her that I hadn't meant what I said, but of course couldn't scold her. It's not her fault she didn't get my joke.

I contemplated bolting. I mean, no one was there to see our little "crime" and no one would ever know. Heck, it might have evaporated before tomorrow! But, my conscience struck and so Richard went to the van to find something suitable to clean the mess. All we had was my swim cover up in the back of the car--not nearly heavy duty enough for this job, so my dearly beloved husband sacrificed the t-shirt off of his back and began approaching playland. I said, "No, this is my fault, I'll do it."

And I set my face toward playland and marched up to my fate...

Have you ever seen an adult in a playland? There's a reason why not. It was 95 blazing degrees in there, a claustrophobic, buried alive, grave-like experience...in which I could maneuver only on my backside and/or my knees. Carson led the way through the maze to the very top where I found it--a medium-sized puddle of my daughter's yellow pee spreading across the bottom of the hot green plastic tube. I started sweating and feeling very nauseous. I wiped up the pee with the t-shirt and slid out of there as fast as possible. Breaking free, I saw across the way my sweet husband (shirtless) bucklng my daughter (naked as a jay-bird) into her car seat.

They say that pee is sterile. I sure hope so. Because some poor, innocent kid is going to crawl around up there tomorrow and never know the difference. One thing's for sure....it won't be MY kid!

Why is it that the strongest displays of love between parent and child almost always involve some sort of bodily fluid?

The van...

I never thought I wanted a minivan. But, with the surprise of baby #3 within 3 years, we were pretty much forced in to it. I had my little SUV that I loved, but it had to go by the wayside so that we could get a vehicle that would hold not one, not two, but THREE carseats with enough room between to keep everyone from hurting each other. It took awhile to find just the right thing, but after weeks of searching, we found one by the side of the road. There it was, our beautifully shined one-owner Dodge Caravan. Complete with captain's chairs and and upgraded sound system and MOST importantly.....within our very limited price range.

In the three years that we've had it, there has not been one problem...she has endured all that a vehicle belonging to three toddlers can imagine...french fries wedged between the seats, juice spilled in the cupholders, dirty socks under the seats, playing the same Dora the Explorer cd literally thousands of times. She's been great to us...until this week.

For some reason, when we try to start the van, she just "clicks" at us a couple of times before starting. Now, mind you, this only started happening since I accidentally let the battery die out while we waited for 90 minutes to exit the I Love America celebration in Springfield on July 4th. She had to be jumped. And now, the clicking. We think the two may be related. To get the car to start, we have to do the following in order:
1. Re-close all of the doors and make sure the ceiling lights are all off (kids love to leave them on).
2. Turn off the radio.
3. Turn off all of the fans.
4. Try to start the van. If she clicks, we do number 5.
5. Open and slam the driver side door.

That usually does the trick. Oh, and we all have to hold our breath, put our right hand over our heart and blink really fast.

Going green...

I hear you, Al Gore and Leo DeCaprio. I hear you telling me that the ice caps are melting. And, New York is going to be swallowed up into the ocean within my children's lifetime. I hear you saying that global warming is real and that the polar bears are in danger. I'm not sure I believe you....but I hear you.

I do want to be a conscientious citizen. And, I want to be a good steward of God's gifts and creation....I really do. But, I'm not quite there yet in my actions.

For example, I'm not a big recycler. Perhaps that's part of being a political conservative. :) Perhaps it's more to do with being lazy! I would recycle....if it was easy. Sorting through our used articles and prepping them for the 16 different refuse bins we'd need for aluminum, paper, plastic, etc., etc. doesn't sound appealing to me. Plus, in order to set my trash out in all of those nice little blue containers, I actually have to pay EXTRA to my trash company. I mean really...if it's so great for the environment, I'd think the government would pay ME to go to the trouble of recycling.

Anyway...I'm starting to come slightly over to the greener side of life in spite of being a bit suspicious of the validity of Mr. Gore's message and frankly not wanting to be personally disturbed with changes that come with going green. I think it started when Richard (in his already-blogged-about way of shopping) came home NOT with the Bounce Free dryer sheets that I'd asked for, but rather a box of environmentally healthy ones. He claimed they were the same price for the same size box, which surprised me. They feel more like paper than the soft cloth of my reliable Bounce, but since he bought 2 packs (that's 160 loads of drying!!), I decided to try them. They worked great! Now, that's what I call easy green-ness.

But I keep thinking about the blue recycle bins. For me, it's still much easier to throw all the trash in one single spot. I'm just trying to get our kids to put things IN the trash can....I can't even imagine trying to get them to SORT it first! But, I'm on the lookout for greener products like my dryer sheets. Appropriately priced, no heartache. And, I'm trying to do some of the little things like unplugging my appliances when not in use. And, not leaving lights on in rooms where no humans are present. I'll start there. Maybe green-ness will grow on me!

My baby....

He was just born yesterday, I swear it. That little bundle of joy who stubbornly required 36 hours of my labor before he decided to exit my body.....after he was already a week overdue! That sweet tiny bundle of pure sugary love who kept us up WAY too much that first month....who wouldn't stop crying at 3am until I sat on the edge of the bed and bounced with him until I thought my legs and back would collapse in protest.

He can't be 5 years old and ready for Kindergarten. Of course, everyone told me it would go by quickly....to enjoy these days while he is at home because they are the BEST and they are so short. I couldn't really see it while I was trying to keep myself from drowning in his diapers and milk and spit-up, not to mention the mountain of laundry created but such a small critter. But, they were right. It has gone by too quickly. He graduated from his preschool church program a couple of weeks ago. I couldn't help but get misty-eyed as he marched toward the stage while Pomp and Circumstance played through the air. Richard and I were so proud!!

When we decided that I would stay home with the kids, it was primarily for these years. These years while they are fully under our watch alone. These years that, for him, are drawing to a close in the next few weeks. Have I done what I set out to do? Have we helped him feel secure? Have we prepared him for school? Have we made good memories? I pray so.

In 4 weeks, he'll head out for Kindergarten. Hopefully the other two treasures still at home with me won't find me curled up in bed in the fetal position sobbing my eyes out that day! I know it will be hard. But, this is just the first of many transitions, I know. Do they get easier? In one way, I hope so, because this is really difficult for me. But, in another way I hope it's not any easier. Maybe that will be a sign that we're doing what we've set out to do.

They say that growing up is all about the process of leaving. I cried when he left my womb. I cried when we left the hospital three days later. I cried when he left to stay overnight across the street with Lola. I cried when he graduated preschool. Chance are, I'll cry again. But, they'll be tears of joy and tears of good memories and tears of thankfulness that God gave us such an incredible child.

I'm so proud of you, Carson! Raising you through these 5 years has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I hope there are many more laughs and joyous tears to come!

My flute...

Well, I've picked her up again. I think it's been about 13 years since I've really tried to play her. Aside from a couple of VERY short stints in a church setting here and there, I've not played my flute at all. Sad, really, considering playing an instrument is a great skill to have and how skilled I might be if I'd kept playing all these years....

I started playing first in the 5th grade. Mrs. Cheri Dawe started a little band at the school I attended. I'm not sure why I chose the flute, but wow, it was pretty much solidified when Cheryl Talley from our church up and GAVE me the flute she had played as a child. What a blessing! If she bought it new, my guess is that my little flute is about 40 years old now. It's not a name brand flute. It's not a super shiny flute like the ones my girlfriends had. The handle has even broken off of the jumbo-sized case which always drew curious looks from other band members. But, wow, what joy!

I played in the little school band for a couple of years and then stopped until later in high school when our church started a small orchestra. I remember fumbling through the notes, having truly no idea really what I was doing. Never a formal lesson. I had a good friend in that orchestra who encouraged and challenged me a lot in my playing and convinced me to join the band at my public high-school which I did but not before he taught me to play the saxophone. Yes, because what girl wants to play a girly flute in an all-girls section when she can make the easy transition and play a much cooler instrument in a co-ed section?? So, my senior year of high school, I joined band for the first time...as a saxophonist. And the flute took second place. Well, actually third place after the band director decided that if I could learn saxophone so quickly, why not the band's much needed oboe? I did pick up my flute from time to time...like to try out for all-district band (which I did make it into but just by the hair of my chinny chin chin) or to play in the church orchestra. But, for the most part after that, I was all saxophone.

I played sax in college for a couple of years. I loved it even though I was probably one of the very least trained players among my peers. They all had been playing since something like sixth grade! Festival this, concert that, honor band here, super jazz soloist there. I remember the first day I showed up for band camp at SMS, one of the girls who I first met was an All-State saxophone player from the year before. Being a second year player, yeah, I was intimidated. I had the very old saxophone that Uncle Roy had given to me for high school....it had an awful musty smell emanating from it, but it was all that I had and I played it with gusto. I remember learning that most of my peers actually had TWO saxophones. One for marching and one for concert. I'd never even considered such a lofty idea. I learned about different brands and strengths of reeds, jazz mouthpieces vs. concert. I really was behind. But, as it turns out, I was able to hold my own and actually felt pretty good about my accomplishments considering how little experience I had. I really enjoyed playing a lot, but knowing that it wasn't my "calling" (and amid some of the craziest God-directed events of my life which will perhaps appear in another blog) I just stopped. And then came the silence. I literally have not touched a saxophone since my last concert at SMSU in...hmm....let's see....1996? If I picked one up today, Lord only knows what sorts of horrific sounds would burst forth!

But, feeling the need to get back to music in some form, I've decided to return to my flute. Partly because I have no idea what happened to my saxophone and mostly because I feel like it's the instrument that most closely resembles the real me at this point in my life. I went to the music shop this week and bought two simple books and a folding music stand. I pulled the flute out from under my bed, dusted her off and pieced her together. First thing I played? B flat scale. Wow. But, the more I practiced, the more I remembered. It was quite fun and I sure drew an audience of family members who wanted to hear what in the world Mommy was doing!!

My goal? To get better. Just for the sake of getting better. There's something in me that wants to keep learning. Something satisfiying about improving myself in this area...even if it means nothing to anyone else in the world. I want to play well. Who knows...maybe you'll see me in the church orchestra again someday? But for now, I'll be working on my scales and my new book of "festival pieces." It feels good.

Family creed...

Recently, we've been thinking and talking about our family mission statement or "creed," if you will. We've been discussing with friends in very serious fashion how such a mission statement can establish the direction of your family, create guiding principles by which all decisions are made and hopefully keep your family on course with long-term practical and spiritual results in mind.

Fortunately, we already have a start on our creed. Richard, in fact, came up with these inspiring beacons of light on the pathway to righteousness for our family about two years ago. He and the children would recite them as he would leave for work each morning after breakfast. I thought I'd share them in the hopes they will inspire you as well.

Browne Family Creed (1st edition)

1. Peace out.
2. Keep it real.
3. If you don't know, you betta ask somebody.
4. Have a snack and holla back.
5. Go to Lola's (grandma who at the time lived across the street).

At first glance, these may appear haphazard and in need of a little refining. :) On the other hand, if you take the time to explore the deeper meanings of each for yourself, I believe you'll find hidden value in each one. Be peaceful. Be genuine, honest and full of integrity. Be teachable, love learning, don't be intimidated. Eat well and compliment the chef who prepared it. Love family.

Maybe we're not too off course after all?

Shoes...

I love shoes. I don't have the luxury of owning many pairs, but I still love them. I love the black flip flops I wear almost every day. I love my new Adidas tennis shoes with the hi-tech breathing holes in the bottoms. I love my funny pink slippers with the full inch of heavenly puffiness in the soles. I love to wear heels and I really miss my zip up knee-high boots which are stashed away in a lonely corner waiting for winter.

It's only today, however, that I realize the true importance of shoes. It's not to make me feel good inside. It's not to complete my outfit. No. The reason that God allowed humans to create shoes is to prevent splinters from embedding themselves in the feet of my children. How do I know this? Because we've failed. Too many times. You'd think after one fit-throwing, screaming episode of splinter removal that it would be a FAMILY RULE that we ALWAYS wear shoes on the deck. Bless their little hearts. Shoes. On the deck. We really need to make that happen.

Mowing...

I mowed tonight. Wow. You'd think that my love for vacuuming would naturally spill over to lawn mowing. After all, it's the same sort of idea...pushing a machine over whatever's underfoot, and making it look prettier than before and leaving nice, happy, straight lines behind as a reward to me for my efforts. But, no. I'm exhausted. Maybe it would have been better if our mower was a Super Lite 10-pound Bagless Hoover. It's not. It's the 25 dollar, push-yer-heart-out, picked-it-up-at-a-yard-sale YEARS ago model. I'm pretty sure it weighs 85 pounds. When I finished my little square huffing and puffing, Richard took over and was practically jogging with the thing whipping it around this and that like it was nothing. Hmph. He told me later that while he appreciated my efforts, I was a bit slow. Apparently I used up about a full tank of gas and an entire HOUR mowing 12 square feet. I'm thinking he'll never ask me to do that again. Hee Hee!

The phone...

If I want my kids to turn on the 200 decibel pinball machine game, all I have to do...
... is get on the phone

If I want my kids to start fighting, all I have to do...
... is get on the phone

If I want my kids to scream and cry with sudden hunger pangs, all I have to do...
... is get on the phone

If I want my kids to have an intense urge to immediately watch the Wiggles, all I have to do...
... is get on the phone

If I actually want to talk to my mom, my friends, the insurance salesman, the gal who wants to give me a free vacation in Aruba, all I have to do is...
... knock my children out first...and THEN get on the phone!

Shopping...

I love it when Richard does the shopping for the family. I love that he can go after work and that I don't have to haul three preschoolers to Wal-Mart on a regular basis. If you've never tried that yourself, I double dog dare you to do it at least once and not lose your mind. Even my kids who are generally well behaved have this natural instinct to want to ride in the cart, no, get down, no, ride in the cart, no, get down....oh, what's that over there? Mom, can we get this? What about this? What about this? WAIT! Where's your brother? RRRIIIICCHHHIIEEE????? Get back over here.......right now! Invariably, at least one of them will become ravishingly hungry or nearly die of thirst because I refuse to open the fruit snacks in the cart or let them chug the juice we just pulled off of the shelf. So, yes, I do love it when Richard goes to Wal-Mart for me.....

.....however, when I turn over the shopping duties, I also have to turn over control of what actually makes it into our cupboard after shopping. I do send him with a very specific list, but what he brings back is just a little....well....Richard-ized. For example, the bananas. I normally go for a medium sized, slightly green bunch which are the perfect size for eating and will last a few days. Richard, however pays no attention to the color...only the size. I honestly think he competes with himself to see if he can possibly find the LARGEST bananas in town to bring home. This last time I swear the bananas were 12 inches long! I love a daily banana, but I'm so sorry...I cannot eat one that big. Who can??

Then, there's the branding. You know, there are just some things for which an off-brand will not suffice. For example, if I put "Oreos" on the list, please do not come home with Sam's brand Twist-n-Shouts. Now, there's nothing wrong with Sam's brand anything. But an Oreo is an Oreo and only an Oreo can really be an Oreo. So, when we we ask for Oreos, please bring Oreos. :)

Richard also has two or three items stuck in his brain that he ALWAYS buys regardless of whether or not they're on the list. One of them is milk. And, that usually works out because we use a lot of milk. We also use a lot of toilet paper, but every time he goes to the store, he brings home a 48-roll package. We don't use THAT much! I think we currently have 225 rolls of paper in our already crowded laundry room. Pretty soon, I'll have to start using it to decorate!

But, not to complain. Mostly he does a great job. And, the extra toilet paper and twist-n-shouts are much easier to deal with than chasing my loony toddlers around the 5 acre Super Wal-Mart!

Weekend update...

Well, Richard returned yesterday from five days of Jr. High (aka: 6.8) youth camp. It was his first experience ever with any sort of camp. He said he really enjoyed it and I do believe him (inspite of the 300 10-12 year olds!). He has amazing patience and is so much fun, so I'm sure he had a great time with the kids. I'm just finishing up all of his laundry. Evidently "mud mountain" is real and no, I never want to go there.

While he was away, the kids and I went to see Nana and Poppy in Poplar Bluff. After days of hearing Richie pray to Jesus about playing "golf on the Wii at Poppy's house," his greatest dreams were realized as he spent about 12 hours swinging his controller in the air violently and lobbing virtual golf balls back and forth over the green.

One other thing that happened is a neat story of God watching out for His kids. About a year ago, our business had a client who (long story short) ended up owing us some money. (Actually, it was a lot of money.) This client had an office for which he had purchased some very nice furnishings. As part of the settle up with him, we were to receive our choice of several pieces of the furniture. However, due to this person owing other people a fair amount of money as well (including the landlord and the bank), we never received what he had committed to us in order to settle his debt. It was difficult for Richard and I to walk away from that situation, but we had left all of this behind us months ago.....

......Well.....on Saturday, Dad asked Mom and me to run up to a repo auction where they were selling some furniture. He wanted Mom to see if there was anything there that she wanted for her house. When we got there, we realized that all of the furniture they were selling was the furniture from the office of our former client. The bank was selling it off. Sooo.....long story short (again), we ended up with two of the pieces that we had originally really wanted and my parents got two as well! Of course, we did pay for them, but only a small fraction of what they had been purchased for. It just spoke to me of how God always watches out for us and how even when we have let things go long ago....our just God remembers and will return to his children what is rightfully theirs. He may do it only in heaven in some cases, but sometimes he does it here on earth and....man....what a blessing!

p.s. What's really amazing is that I have not been home to P.B. since CHRISTMAS! It's the longest time away from home in my lifetime. What were the chances that I happened to be in Poplar Bluff on the weekend of this auction AND that my Dad just happened to want to go after seeing a random ad in the paper AND that I went with mom up there on an other wise full day. It's so unlikely that I would have been at that auction that I know Someone else was orchestrating the whole thing. Amazing.

Nostalgia...

Sometimes I get nostalgic over things that I've never actually experienced. For example, I think a lot about getting back to the "good ol' days," having a house with a great big front porch where we sit rocking and drinking lemonade at dusk with friends and family--the 100 year old trees anchored in the yard, branches shading the dirt and gravel driveway. You've all seen this scene in movies. I think about how peaceful it would be to have a bed on the front porch and sleep out there on summer evenings. Silliness. Because, in all reality, the folks that did those sorts of things years ago probably did so out of necessity. It was probably hot as blazes in the second story and they went outside to get a little relief from their non-air-conditioned house.

A teacher at our church reflected the other day about how "the back deck has replaced the front porch" and it got me thinking about what we DO have. I've never had a big front porch, but we do have a pretty nice back deck. On these recent Spring evenings, you can find our bunch out there quite a bit. Eating ice cream cones at dusk, playing tee ball in the yard, inspecting our recently planted flowers for new buds, listening to the bamboo windchimes, looking for stars, tracking airplanes in the sky, watching the sun set just over the tops of the trees to the West all with the cheerful voices of our babies echoing into the night sky. So, I think it's time that maybe I pack away the wishes for the "good ol' days" of front porch rocking and lemonade and I start embracing and investing in what will be our family memories long after these days are gone.

Richie's sense of humor...

Richie is really starting to develop his own little sense of humor. He must be getting it from his dad. (Heaven knows I NEVER do stuff like this!...hee hee.) Last night, we were riding home from church and Richie busts out with a loud rendition of the ABC song. There we are in the front seat starting to beam with delight until he got to "G".....

"A, B, C, D, E, F......POO POO!" Followed by bursts of hearty laughter! All the rest of us cracked up.

He can't go poo in the potty, but he can sing about it in his ABC's. Very nice.

God told me...

Avery just asked for a snack.

I suggested fruit.
She said No, Goldfish!

I suggested fruit again.
No, Goldfish!

A few minutes later she said, "God told me last night in bed that you have to give me whatever snack I want."

Heh....yeah, I'm so sure.

Garage sale observations...

So, I learned a few things from my garage sale this week....

• Anyone who shows up to your garage sale wearing a fanny pack or headphones is a seriously serial garage saler. They dart through the tables at the speed of light pausing only to ask for a discount on whatever 50 cent item they're holding. (Note: my apologies to any of my Scottish friends for using the word "fanny." It's still OK here in America!).
• For anyone who waltzes in and touches every single item in the garage and subsequently messing up my perfectly placed displays there is a 99% chance that they will walk out without buying one thing.
• Yes, 25 pennies are the same as 1 quarter, just infinitely more annoying.
• If I can hear your child screaming before you get him out of the car, I know that something in my garage is going to get broken.
• Most people who ask for a discount on a $2 item will open their change purse to reveal one hundred dollars in 1's. Did they really need that discount? NOOO!!
• If you say "no" to a discount request, be prepared for that person to get upset and put back all the items in their hands, leaving with nothing.....just to make a point!
• But....the BEST thing I learned from my garage sale is that there is HOPE that Richard and I will one day return to quiet couplehood (as opposed to zany toddlerhood in which we are currently immersed) much like several of the sweet old husband/wife pairs that strolled in today. Of course, we do love each other and we do love the kids...but there's something to be said for peaceful mornings strolling the neighborhood with no time schedule and no one needing anything from you.

Paint, Provision and Poor Ol' Job

Well, I just finished my paint project. Now that Richard has employment (!) I splurged on a couple of gallons of paint and began to tackle the dreadfully off-white walls in our kitchen, living room and hallway. They're now more tan-ish. Well, Valspar's "baked scone" in eggshell finish to be exact. I did all that I could without branching over to the vaulted ceiling and stairwell. Something about me up on scaffolding to reach a 15 foot ceiling while currently without health insurance seemed a bit unwise!

While I was finishing up tonight with the painting, I popped in a cd that I received in the mail this week from Aunt Karen. It was of a recent Sunday morning sermon by Pastor Mike Hughes at Riverside Fellowship Church in Florida. It was amazing to me how many points he made that echoed the spiritual lessons that I have been learning this past month. Well, of course it did, that's why she sent it to me! Contentment (being satisfied in whatever state I find myself), humility (ability to accept God's provision through other people), trust (believing that God really does know my situation, that He cares and that He's working on it and in it)!

Looking back over the past several weeks, I can say without question that I felt the hand of God in tangible ways like I never have before. The outpouring of His provision during this time of unemployment was amazing. We had no need that went unmet. We had gifts for groceries, dinner out, babysitting, house payments, doctor visits and medicine (for chicken pox) and more! Richard even scored a random one-day job at the mall that brought in some extra cash. Next time you're in the Battlefield Mall in Springfield, MO, visit Yankee Candle and listen closely to the music. My talented hubby set up the sound system!

One particularly timely provision was that we had previously decided to send Carson to private school next year for Kindergarten. We needed to pay our deposit to confirm his spot. Within three days before it was due, we received cash from more than one source that we were not expecting all totaling the exact amount of the deposit!

I do have to say that this week, we really did begin to feel we were living a tiny slice of Job (from the Bible). Thankfully all of our family is still among the living and we have no livestock to lose in the first place, but we had pretty much been rocked to the core with other losses. We had watched door after door close regarding jobs. One particularly difficult one closed this week....I literally grieved over it. We had put so much hope in this one possibility. When the door closed, we really thought we had no more hope for finding work in Springfield and that we would have to look at moving. That blow hit us just as Richard got the c. pox (a.k.a. Job's scaly boils). It really is kinda funny now because the very next day after this total loss of all hope is when the new job offer came through!

You really should see Richard...he's quite a sight with all these spots! Even the kids are chiming in with Job-wisdom...they've been learning at church about being a good friend. When we made a reference to Daddy being like Job, Avery was quick to point out that we needed to "be nice to Daddy because Job's friends weren't very nice to him!" Thankfully though, unlike Job, Richard is not sitting in a pile of ashes scraping his sores with a broken piece of a pot. Niether is his wife telling him to "curse God and die." We much prefer to adopt Job's chosen posture toward God in the midst of his many, many trials. "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him!" (Job. 13:15).

As I told a friend earlier this week, I'd rather be in the gut-wrenching trials of life with my God than to be anywhere else without Him.

I've got some good news and some bad news...

Okay, so the bad news first. Richard has the chicken pox. Not Baby Richard, but Daddy Richard. I've never seen him as sick as he has been this week. Not only does he feel like he's been hit by a truck, he has the horrible itchy bumps all over. Can't sleep. Doesn't want to eat. Poor guy. I thought about posting a picture, but that would be very cruel and way too unusual....for all of us! Thankfully, I already had the sickeness as a child and Carson and Avery have been vaccinated. I'm watching little Richie like a ticking time bomb....praying some miracle keeps him from catching it.

The GOOD news is that Richard has accepted a job offer! Yeah! It's at a company here in Ozark, just a couple of miles from our house. Praise the Lord! After several setbacks over the last month with other jobs that we thought might open up, we were starting to consider the possibility of moving....again...to another city. But, it looks like we won't have to do that and we are SO grateful.

Chicken and Ranch

Today I was on a special outing with Avery. While in the car, I was explaining to her that Richard and I were going to have dinner out with our friends while our kids and their kids stayed with the babysitter. She wanted to know all about the place where we were going to eat which happened to be Rodizio Brazilian Grill. (It was my friend's birthday and they treated us to a night out to celebrate!) Trying to explain the restaurant to her seemed a bit daunting seeing as how I'd have to explain what Brazil was and how the serving process at the restaurant was different there--sort of like Lamberts where they bring different types of food (particularly meat) to your table for you to sample as the main course. Instead of going in to all of that, I just said that it was a place were adults go to eat. She said, "So they don't have kids' food there?" Nope. She shouted, "WHAT?! No chicken and ranch?!?" In her world, restaurants that don't serve the kid-friendly chicken strips and accompanying tiny tubs of ranch dressing do not and evidently should not exist! If I had a quarter for every "chicken and ranch" meal we've bought in the last 5 years....well....I'd only have a small fraction of the money back that we've spent on chicken and ranch! Oh well.

Just for the record, I give the Rodizio Grill a 5 out of 10 on the yumminess scale. Food seemed a bit bland and repetitive overall to me, but you certainly get your fill of meat and the filet mignon bites wrapped in bacon were dee-lish.

Restless sleepers?

I was just on my normal "rounds" of the night...going in to kiss my angelic sleeping babies before sleeping myself, when I noticed a strange pattern. I first found Richie out of his bed and in the middle of the bedroom floor fast asleep. After moving him back to his rightful place on the bed all nicely tucked in, I went in to find Avery with all the blankets and covers completely removed from her bed sleeping soundly upside down. As I put one of the blankets back over her, she gritted her teeth loudly and thrust one of her fists up into the air. Very odd. I kissed her and then went back to the boys room. As I opened the door Carson rolled over and said in a sleepy little drone, "Chicken Little...."

I'm trying to remember what they ate before going to bed....must have been straight sugar!

The Easter what??

This morning there is an "Easter Express" fun time scheduled at church for the little ones. They have an Easter Egg Hunt planned (mind you, it's currently 24 degrees in Springfield and we are really hoping the festivities are INDOORS!). We've been talking about the hunt for a few days and the kids are really excited. Avery just came up and asked me if we're going to the "Easter HUNK" today! I said, "What?" She said, "The Easter Egg thing." Trying to get her to say "hunk" again, I asked a second time. She said, "Mom, you know where they have all the Easter Eggs and we go looking for them!" Relenting, I said, "Yes." She flashed downstairs and I heard her yell, "CARSON, WE'RE GOING TO THE EASTER HUNK...GET DRESSED!!" :) Gotcha.

Cartoon madness

It just occurred to me this morning that the cartoons my kids have been watching lately are actually pretty violent. I'm normally quite vigilant about what they watch (no Scooby Doo, no Sponge Bob, no Doodlebops (that show totally creeps me out...no real person smiles that big)). But, what about Tom and Jerry which is the resounding FAVORITE among my kids? Every episode is about one of them trying to blow the other up with a stick of dynamite or pummeling each other's bodies with cast iron skillets or shooting each other face with guns!! Not to mention the second favorite around here (Looney Toons) with the likes of Yosemite Sam with his pistols, Elmer Fudd with his hunting rifle or Wylie Coyote running Bugs off a cliff and then slamming a mallet on top of his head! Seriously! Can those of you educated in modern kids cartoons even IMAGINE Dora shooting Swiper in the face?

Or the Little Einsteins drop kicking each other out of the rocket ship? Violent the vintage shows may be, but they are absolutely hilarious. Nothing gets my kids ROLLING with laughter like a good explosion of dynamite under Tom's butt!

Comments on my posts...and update

I just updated my blog so that anyone can make comments to the post, even if you're not a member of blogspot. So, feel free to comment....just make it nice. :)

Just by way of quick update, we are doing very well. No job yet, but God's provision is constant. We were able to get a good washer on Saturday...found it at a fixer-upper store...brand new with just a dent on the side for less than half of retail price! Great, huh? It's been running pretty much non-stop since yesterday!

Also, God is speaking to both Richard and me loud and clear. Today in both services at church it was as if he picked up a megaphone and pointed it right at us. The topics of the messages were "humility" (if you read my blog from a few days ago, you know that was right in line for me) and tonight was about "learning to lean." He used 1 Sam. 19 to show how God "kicked the crutches" out from under David...and how he does the same to us to teach us to rely on HIM and not on other earthly things, even things given to us by Him in his favor. I can't do the message justice here, but we're sure it was straight from God to us.

We also have received so much encouragement from friends and family. Notes in the mail, prayers, hugs, phone calls, visits, emails....we are so blessed to have people in our lives who love us so much!

Ack! (literally)

The washer is still broken....and the kids have the flu.

Enough said.

Wishy washy

So, a week ago our washer started getting louder. Not just a little louder, but like, I-can't-hear-you-talking-to-me-if-we're-within-20-feet-of-the-thing loud! That was a couple of days before my sister came to visit. I normally do about at LEAST one load a day, if not more. Well, while we had company, I thought it was only reasonable to let the laundry slide, so by the time the girls left, I had literally about 10 loads backed up. YIKES! I started in on it Tuesday. And, the washer was still loud...I think the neighbors could hear it. Richard and I looked at each other with puzzled faces, but just let the thing keep running. About half-way into the second load (of TEN), I realized that it was making a lot of noise during the wash cycle, but it wasn't washing....you know, whatever you call it when it's doing the actual cleaning part. So, I have 10 loads of laundry in the floor, one in the dryer and one in a cylinder full of soapy water. My resourceful husband determined that some tiny little part was broken, but we'd have to wait a day to get the part. Meanwhile, we're up to 12 loads. We got the part today, put it on and the washer is still broken...something serious I fear. We've decided to bring in the big guns and have Pop (Richard's dad) take a look at it when he's here this weekend. Just what an unemployed family needs....major household appliances to start breaking down!

It reminds me of college days when I literally would go buy new socks to wear when I ran out of clean ones. We're running out of VERY ESSENTIAL items of clothing. Carson cried today when he had to wear a pair of his sister's socks. And, I estimate that by the time Saturday rolls around and a determination is made on the washer's status, we'll be up to 15 loads of laundry and my kids will be running around naked as jaybirds! I'm going to wash some of these very essential items in the sink tomorrow. Should be fun....yeah.

Blessings that bring humility

Since Richard resigned from his job, we have been so blessed with support from friends and family. It's been amazing. The love that we feel has been so encouraging. But yesterday we were blessed with a gift that is literally so great that it's unspeakable. It was a Malachi 3:10 blessing...God literally opened up the windows of heaven and heaped something on us that was amazing!

My initial reaction was to run from the blessing. The first word out of my mouth was "NO!" I was upset. I thought, "I can't receive this. The gift is too great. I'll never be able to repay it. Are we really that needy?" To my deceived ears it sounded like a proper, humble response. "Oh, no, we've got this. We can handle it. God bless you for your generosity, but no." The more I've thought about it though, it was not a humble response at all but the opposite--a proud one. The "NO!" was in reaction to the pain of a generous arrow piercing my proud heart. I am realizing that I am too proud to gracefully receive such a humbling gift. To receive it requires me to recognize that yes, I do have need. I want God to bless me in great ways, but I don't want to be brought to the point of great need that is often required for blessings to be felt. I want God to bless me in great ways, but I don't want to relinquish control of my life in a way that enables Him to bless me. Losing control and being in need is very uncomfortable. But, I'm beginning to see that it brings about the humility that pleases Him and that opens the door for his grace and provision to be poured out in my life.

Another thought came to mind as well..."Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13. If I'm struggling to humbly recognize my level of need and receive the symbolic laying down of a life from a friend in our present situation, how can I possibly have recognized my full level of need regarding Jesus laying down his life for me? If I am too proud to receive a significant gift from a friend, is it therefore possible that I have been too proud to really understand the full work of grace offered to me at the cross? For so much GREATER a gift was that! And so much GREATER the humility required to understand how much grace has been offered.

Carson's big decision

Today after church, Carson told Richard and me that he wanted to go to heaven to live with Jesus and that he knew he needed to ask Jesus into his heart. He has been learning about salvation at "Super Church" and has been able to recite the main points of salvation using colors (gold is for heaven, dark is for sin, red is for Jesus' blood, white is for forgiveness of sins and green is for new life). So, after spending time talking with him about it throughout the day, he prayed tonight just before bed and asked Jesus to do just that. Pretty amazing!

In the free fall

Have you ever felt backed into a corner...like you were being forced to make a decision that you really didn't want to make? Welcome to our world today.

Richard resigned from his job this morning. The job that moved us to Springfield last Fall. The job that held so much promise in the beginning. The job that has turned out to be one of the greatest trials of our lives. A shockingly unfortunate series of events that culminated on Friday placed us in a position where we felt there was no choice...and we felt God was in favor of...Richard resigning immediately.

We don't know what the future holds for us. From what we can see today, no job is waiting in the wings. There are a few possibilities, but no guarantees. I feel like I've jumped off of a cliff and I'm still in free fall waiting for my parachute to open. But we are praying. We're asking our friends and family to pray. God has always been faithful to us and we know He will be again.

I want to live in the center of God's will and normally when I pray that, I'm not thinking about gut-wrenching trials, heavy disappointments and total disillusionment. But, I think growing close to God is not about the destination but all about the journey. So, from that perspective I welcome this trial and count it all joy. What can separate us from the love of God?