Birthday jitters…

Today is my birthday.

Thank you. I could feel your "awww" as you read that just now.

I'm a little jittery, though, because Richard has planned a surprise for me.

I hate surprises.

Generally, I trust my husband, but if I'm not involved in every teensy detail of whatever it is that is planned, I start getting nervous. Like I am right now. On my birthday. Not happy. Not excited. Not even sad that I've without question crossed into my thirties now. Nope. I'm just plain nervous. All I know about tonight is that we're dropping the kids at the sitter and then going somewhere to eat at 6:45pm. But, it must be more than just dinner because it's a secret locked in the Fort Knox of my Rich's mind. Otherwise, all my whining today about hating surprises would have surely caused him to relent and spill the beans just to get me to hush it.

I know nothing about where we're going, who will be there, what I'll be expected to do. Will I like the food? What should I wear? Will anyone be singing to me? Are there going to be 6 million of my closest friends there to shock me and then stare at me until I say something incredibly clever about my birthday? Is some birthday clown going to pop out of a cake and put a funny hat on me and toot a really obnoxious Happy Birthday horn? At any point will I be expected to don a sombrero and dance?

Moreover, what about the children? Did he take into account their dinner? What about Little Girl's rehearsal tonight? Will she get there? If not, did he call ahead? Should I box up a dinner to take to the sitter's? Or should I give her cash to take them out? When will I have time to stop by the bank? How is she going to fit three car seats in her car to take them to dinner? She can't. So, we'll have to arrange to give her the van. Which means, we'll need to take two cars to drop them off. Unless we want to borrow her car for this surprise outing. Oh, and we should probably pack for Little Girl's rehearsal, just in case. Oh, and we'll also need to take their pajamas in case we're out past 7:30pm.

I mean, MY WORD! Could anyone be more tense?

How do you spell relief?

Those of you older than, say, 25, may remember a commercial that used to air back in the day that asked various souls how they spell relief. The answer? R-O-L-A-I-D-S.

We're getting our own version of that around here these days. Richie is recognizing all of his letters and spelling things like crazy.

Today at lunch he said, "Mom, do you know how to spell crackers?"

Reading from the box in front of him he rattled off, "R-I-T-Z!"

The horror of the AB pattern…

As part of his Kindergarten learning, Carson has been telling us periodically about patterns. He refers to them as AB patterns which would be any pattern that alternates back and forth. An ABB pattern would repeat as ABB-ABB-ABB, etc. Seasons are a pattern. Taking turns is a pattern. We see patterns everywhere!

Friday night, we were eating at a Mexican restaurant. It's usually a challenge to keep Carson from devouring the entire bowl of queso himself. We have to pour separate bowls for each person and then have a cut-off for pre-dinner chips so that everyone has room for the real dinner. After a few bites of his real dinner, Carson asked if he could have more chips and dip. Richard told him he could have one bite of chip, one bite of rice and beans, then another bite of chip, etc.

In classic Carson brainy form, his whine came out wrapped in educational truths. He said, "But DAD, I don't want to eat my chips in a pattern!"

What’s up with the toothpaste?

It's my burning question for the day. What is up with all the blue toothpaste in my kids' bathroom. It's chronic. Every morning the kids do all their business in the bathroom. Thankfully, brushing teeth is on the list of must-dos--along with combing hair and using the potty at least once. However, every morning when the whirlwind of getting-ready activities has died down and I go in to assess the damage I always….always….find gobs of blue toothpaste crusted onto the vanity. Sometimes I even find it in the floor. Do my children have holes in their lips causing the blue goo to drip out as they faithfully slosh it around in their mouths? Is their brushing action so violent that they sling the sticky mess out of their mouths and all over whatever unlucky surfaces are nearby? Are they physically incapable of saying to themselves, "Oh, look. I just drooled nasty blue toothpaste onto the sink. I think I'll clean that up. In fact, I think I'll clean it up right now before it hardens into a crusty shell of a mess that mommy will have to use her fingernail to pry up later. Yes, I'll get on that right now." What is up with the toothpaste????

The agony of defeat…

Well, Spring is here and soccer season is upon us once again. This is our third season participating with the kids. Just Avery this time, though, as Carson has opted for tee ball which begins later. Somehow our kids have managed every season to be on "that" team that loses every game. And, not by a small margin. Oh, no. It usually goes something like this. The other team gets the ball, the same kid every time dribbles down the entire length of the field, they kick the ball in the goal with ease. Repeat. Repeat. And repeat. OR, if that doesn't happen, one of the players on OUR team will get the ball and dribble it down the entire length of the field and kick it into the opposing team's goal. Repeat.

Now, please don't misunderstand. It certainly is not MY children that are the common denominators causing all of their teams to suffer such perpetual misfortune. No, no. It couldn't be. Case in point…Avery's first game was Saturday. They lost something like 32 to 1. The one goal? Scored by Avery! You should have seen me. I was standing on the sideline for what seemed like the longest game in eternity watching in silence as the other team scored goal after goal. But, for that one shining moment when she broke free of the pack and was headed in the right direction, I turned into "that" mom that cheers like her baby is about to win the national championship. I ran over in front of other parents. I yelled. I jumped. I cheered. Go, Go Go! I shot her 10 thumbs up. It was indeed a special moment.

I'm sure the other parents thought I was "special." Ahem.

So, now, as I look forward to 10 straight Saturdays of relentless beatings on the soccer field, I do have a bit of hope that these shining moments will carry me through. Otherwise, I'm not sure how I'll make it through another losing season. J

And, speaking of the agony of defeat…in case you're wondering, I cannot currently speak of the devastation I felt watching the events of the UNC/Kansas Final Four game unfold before me. In a few weeks, I may be able to pen a response. Until then, keep me in prayer.