Christie's Corner

34...

2011-04-29T21:13:00.000-07:00

Today marks the end of my 34th year.

Without any particular eloquence and in no particular order…34 things I learned in my 34th year:

1. Nothing else matches the peculiar joy of seeing your husband in a monk’s robe, in public.

2. SUVs are overrated – unless you require three car seats, which I no longer do.

3. Lifelong friends can be just that….if you let them.

4. “If you never know truth then you never know love.” –The (great philosophers) Black Eyed Peas

5. My sons are adopting their father’s sense of humor. Triple hilarity for me.

6. Time does heal. Jury’s still out on whether it heals all.

7. Sending your last child to school changes everything.

8. Oh, be careful little fingers what you say.

9. “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.” –Proverbs 4:23

10. Rome is amazing. Where can we go next?

11. Hard work brings satisfaction but workaholism is an unpleasant binge.

12. Confession brings healing.

13. Seven year old girls can be quite sassy. And fun.

14. Hardship breeds compassion.

15. Coffee is delicious. How did I not know this before?

16. When gale force winds strike, I can cling to the tree trunk of my heritage. A blessed soul anchor.

17. Bacon and eggs every Sunday does the body good. So does p90x.

18. If you want it to die, stop feeding it.

19. Isolation. Just say no.

20. Passion is not the highest order of love.

21. I like a small house.

22. Kindred spirits can be found in the most unexpected bodies.

23. I do not have to wallow in the backwash of my own stupidity.

24. Social media is no replacement for deep friendship.

25. The secret to icing a 3-layer cake is frozen cake.

26. The greener grass on the other side of the fence tastes very bitter.

27. When your reality turns out to be illusion, you’d better have something Truly Real to run to.

28. Everyone hurts. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone needs to hear that they are valuable.

29. Temptation is a treat on a hook. It goes down easy, but comes out hard.

30. I enjoy heat. This is not new. I could say it every year.

31. Bambu in Springfield, MO has the best fried rice ever.

32. “Trust, grace and forgiveness are the true measure of a man’s fortitude.” –Richard W. Browne

33. I cannot. But God can.

34. I have Hope.

My squeaky life...

2010-04-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

I’m taking mental inventory of all things squeaky in my possession and it’s turning in to quite a list. Both cars, the dryer, the chairs in my dining room, the boys’ bunk bed. There was even one potential buyer of our home who was sure to let us know there was one squeaky board on our deck. I’m thinking of purchasing WD-40 by the case. Sam’s Club surely sells that.

All school year, Richard has had the privilege of driving my car. Yes, it’s my car because I picked it out and paid for it. Well, he helped with that last part. But still…my car! The reason he drives my car is because it’s big enough to haul six youngsters for carpool to and from school. And, since he’s the teacher already going to school, he drives the carpool. Great. So, what do I get to drive? His car. Huhh…..yeah. His car is fine and all, but it squeaks. Every time the car stops it gives off this nails-on-a-chalkboard screech that evidently even the best minds in Southwest Missouri brake care cannot figure out. I’ve calculated that it happens right as I hit the 3 MPH mark and does not relent until I’ve reached a complete halt. This is especially noticeable at places like….the drive-thru window, the bank, pulling up to a friend’s house. Totally cool.

That’s bad enough, but now MY car also squeaks. But, it only happens when I’m making a slow, sharp turn. Richard declares it’s the tire rubber on the road. Why would it be the rubber on the road? No other cars have this problem. And, I’m only going a snail’s pace when it happens. It’s not like I’m pulling a Mario Andretti in the McDonald’s drive thru. The only response I get from him on this rebuttal is that only a person of my advancing age would conjure Mario Andretti—a man who has probably not driven a race car in at least a couple of decades.

It reminds me of my first car…the 1988 Honda Accord that Dad bought for $500 from some guy up the street. I loved it. I hated it. I loved everything but the first 15 seconds after I started it up. I’d park as far away from everything as I could in the high school parking lot. Then, when it was time to fire her up, I’d suddenly HAVE to tie my shoe or clean something up off the floorboard. I’d hide there, ducked down in my shameful pose until the squealing stopped. Again, totally cool.

One of these days I’ll have saved up to buy Richard a new car that I can drive. Requirement number one? It must be completely silent. Perhaps a battery-operated hover-car. Or maybe one of those human transport backpacks coming from New Zealand. Now, THAT would be totally cool.

Science fair...

2010-04-12T19:55:00.000-07:00

Do I have to? Do I REALLY HAVE TO….help my children with their science projects? Seriously. We just finished up History Day for which each child had to choose a historical character, write and memorize a one-page speech, come up with a period costume and present all the facts they’ve learned about said character on a cheerfully decorated poster board. Avery chose Hannah of the Bible and Carson was King Richard the Lionhearted. I survived History Day. Barely.

Just when I started to come down from that frenzy, I was whiplashed into the next big TO DO.

Science Fair.

For Avery, science fair requires her to choose and animal, create some sort of visual display and present her findings regarding the animal to her classroom. Then, she must be prepared to be drilled by the judges. She chose the whale. Did you know that the whale blows mostly air and snot out of its blowhole? Now you do.

Carson wanted to answer the question “Where is lightning before it strikes?” I was hoping we could just send a letter to God on that one and be done with it. But, no. He did an experiment involving rubbing a balloon on his hair and then touching it to a fluorescent light bulb. Voila!…lightning. He had to write a paper to accompany his demonstration, present it to the class and create yet another poster board revealing his findings.

Can I just say that when a child is 6 or 8 years old, they require an enormous amount of help when it comes to these projects? They have no concept of the scientific method, hypotheses, theories, cause and effect, natural laws, etc. They can barely tie their shoes. Add to that the fact that the Science Fair is a JUDGED event and you have the makings of one nasty mama-child cocktail – one part competition, one part perfection, one part impatience and one part deadlines. AGH! I’ve literally awoken in the middle of the night worried over these projects like they were some sort of college entrance exam.

Do the kids care? Not a bit. I’m the only one stressed – torn between “do everything for them so it actually gets done” and “let them do the work themselves and present a ridiculous looking effort that pales in comparison to every other fair entry which was obviously done by a parent and not a six year old!”

Remember that day when you graduated college and you thought to yourself, “YES! Thank God! No more exams, projects, assignments, speeches, group projects! It’s over!!” …..???

Yeah….me neither.

Who needs teeth anyway...

2010-03-16T19:28:00.000-07:00

So, today I had two more teeth removed. Apparently some people can afford to lose six of their permanent teeth and still not have enough room in their tiny little mouths for all the leftovers. Such is the case with me—trying to make room for corrective lower jaw surgery in a few months. Aren’t you looking forward to me blogging about that???

My sweet hubby took me to the appointment this morning. He was okay with spending his time this way as long as we were able to pick up the new tv he bought on the way home. Two birds, one stone. I was all for it.

After a pep talk from the doctor about “yes, we think you need this procedure” and “yes, we do have to remove these teeth to get there”, they numbed me up quite nicely, jerked out the teeth and sent me on my way. What a sight I was, though! I realized as the nurse opened the door and led me out that I was re-entering the public with two wads of bloody gauze hanging out of my mouth and a lower lip and tongue that could neither feel nor move.

I tried to hide the mess with my hand and wanted to duck out quickly, but of course I couldn’t leave without the obligatory stop at the cashier. I sprint-walked to the counter and tried not to look at anyone directly in the eye. I also kept touching my face to be sure I wasn’t drooling on anything. The kind lady took my payment and when she finally returned after an eternity of me wanting to crawl into a hole she says, “Hey! Didn’t I see you at kickboxing last week?”

Awesome.

Someone I barely know would like to start a conversation right at this moment….this moment when I have a bulging, drooly face and am unable to utter one intelligible syllable. She starts asking about the North Carolina t-shirt I wore last week and if I liked the kickboxing class and if I was going to be there tonight. All I could come up with was something like, “Ye ah ike eh i. Nah u-ay.” I waved apologetically and dashed out the door.

Richard was waiting for me in the lobby. He’s seen me in bad shape before, but never quite like this. He stuffed a laugh as I tried unsuccessfully to say something meaningful. We jumped in the car and as promised, we headed over to our friend’s house to pick up the new (i.e. hand-me-down) tv. Our friends live in a gated community, so we always have to introduce ourselves to gain entrance. The car in front of us at the gate took quite a while and Richard mockingly said under his breath, “Yes, hi, we’re here to steal things.” Once it was our turn, he managed to respectfully make his intentions known and as we drove through the gate, he said, “Some security…the [people we’re visiting] aren’t even home!”

Thanks to the help of the electronic installer dudes at our friend’s house, he got the massive tv loaded up into the SUV. By this point, my blood and spit have soaked through the little gauze pads and so as we’re pulling away, I ask him to stop at the side of the road so I can switch them out. Dis…gust….ing! He comments, “Yeah, this doesn’t look shady AT ALL…” meaning that of course it’s completely not normal to be driving out of this place with a swiped tv that you picked up from people who weren’t even home in a neighborhood where you don’t belong and with a bloody-mouthed woman in the front seat….it was like bad scene from CSI.

I still couldn’t feel anything from the bottom half of my face, so I was quite shocked when once on the highway with our loot I look down to find that I had managed to drool blood down my neck and the front of my black coat. I start shrieking. Richard says comfortingly, “Well, it could be worse. At least it’s not from your va-jay-jay.”

So, now it’s the evening. The tv is currently beaming the NBA on TNT into our basement in a whole new level of high-definition love. I can feel my face and the two gaping holes in my mouth are no longer gushing. Richard asked if I kept the teeth. I asked, “Whatever for?!” He said, “Ten bucks, baby!” I’ll have to consult with the Tooth Fairy about that one....I'm sure in all the mayhem I've broken AT LEAST one of her rules.

Cookbooks and hymnals...

2010-03-03T13:41:00.000-08:00

White Sauce.

It was the key ingredient I needed to recreate the delicious pasta my friend Karen made last Saturday.

It was the key to turning my ordinary every-other-week spaghetti into a mouth-watering delight for my family. And…

…it was the key to unlocking a great treasure left behind by my Grandma.

I think of Grandma Seawel most often when I’m cooking. Many of my very favorite foods came from her kitchen. Chicken and dumplings. Pancakes. Fried eggs. Lasagna. Garden tomatoes. Pie. Hot pickles straight out of the canning jars. There were other meals too, which perhaps due to overzealous experimentation were a little to “out there” for my young taste buds. But either way, there can be no doubt the woman loved to cook. And generally, I loved to eat what she cooked up!

Grandma passed away in 2003 and I soon after inherited her entire recipe collection. The wall hanging box is full of fading recipe cards; handwritten and typed, some stained, some taped together, many modified multiple times with Grandma’s tweaks for a myriad of meals…….and, I kid you not, no less than 442 variations on pie crust and filling.

Along with the recipe box came her 1961 edition Betty Crocker cookbook. Aside from admiring the vintage cover, I didn’t give much thought to the cookbook. But, I knew that if anyone could teach me how to make a proper White Sauce, it would be Grandma’s 1961 Betty! So I pulled her down off the shelf and opened her right up. Flipping through to the coveted White Sauce, the pages fell open to an unexpected treasure that stopped me in my tracks.

In typical Grandma Seawel fashion, there in the fold of the pages I found a stapled-together set of cards just like those preserved in her recipe box. Each one faded, modified with shorthand notes and re-modified with white-out . Each one bent near the staples, evidence that she had returned to these cards again and again for review.

However, on the cards I found recipes not for meals, but of another kind. They were the hand-written poetic words of what must have been some of her favorite hymns. Holy, Holy, Holy. Have Thine Own Way. My Jesus, I Love Thee. One I’ve never heard moved me deeply and I’ll share here as she had written it.

Holy Spirit breathe on me,
Until my heart is clean;
Let sunshine fill its inmost part,
With not a cloud between;

Holy Spirit breathe on me,
My stubborn will subdue;
Teach me in words of living flame
What Christ would have me do.

Holy Spirit breathe on me,
Fill me with power divine;
Kindle a flame of love and zeal
Within this heart of mine.

Holy Spirit breathe on me,
Till I am all thy own,
Until my will is lost in Thine,
To live for Thee alone.

What’s amazing to me is that the very moment Grandma put that small stack of stapled cards into 1961 Betty, God knew that decades later I’d be at home one evening looking for White Sauce…and that I would need encouragement…and that he would speak to me through what was left behind for me to discover.

When I’m gone and my grandchildren are rummaging through my things, I hope what they find points them to Jesus….and if they find something that fills their bellies with good food too….then so be it!

Bring on the White Sauce!

The Tooth Fairy Rules...

2010-02-17T06:23:00.000-08:00

…and what I mean by that is not that she governs but that there is an ever-growing list of Tooth Fairy Commandments (rules) by which our children must abide in order to remain in her good graces. In other words, if Mom and Dad forget that a child has lost a tooth and thereby forget to fulfill their Tooth Fairy duties, there will be a new rule revealed in the morning explaining exactly why the child was not visited by her highness.

I’ve mentioned before that we don’t do Santa, but the Tooth Fairy is our good personal friend. We know her well and reserve the right to add to, subtract from and misinterpret to our benefit all of her Commandments. Furthermore, we will employ The Commandments in any way necessary to sustain the ruse that brings our children such great joy.

The Tooth Fairy Commandments
(as of today, February 17, 2010 8:26am – Household Browne reserves the right to change these rules at any time without any notice whatsoever)

1. Tooth shall be securely sealed inside a snack-size Ziploc baggie.
2. Tooth in baggie shall be placed under owner’s pillow prior to falling asleep.
3. Baggie must be placed under the pillow on the side of the bed facing the doorway.
4. Baggie must slightly protrude out from under the pillow.
5. Owner of tooth must be asleep by 9pm.
6. If tooth is accidentally lost prior to being placed under the pillow and owner shows sufficient signs of remorse and panic (tears required), the Tooth Fairy may still come. She is all-knowing, compassionate and just.
7. Tooth must not fall to the ground in the middle of the night.
8. NEW – added 2/17/2010 – Tooth must not be broken in half.

If any of The Commandments are broken, fear not, we do extend grace and the opportunity the following night to right your wrong – and hopefully Mom and Dad are not too distracted to forget again!

Under the weather...

2010-02-15T20:22:00.000-08:00

Some mamas swoon over snuggles from their sick kiddos. Not me. If I’m going to be slobbered on by a six month old or a six year old, said wee one had better be twenty four hours free of all ick. My kids are more likely to be quarantined than cuddled when they fall ill.

That said, when Number One came down with a fever and earache yesterday, I took full advantage of the opportunity to lead by example and stay in my jammies in bed all day with him. After two library books, six hours of Winter Olympic coverage, one bowl of buttery popcorn and a relatively peaceful snowy afternoon I was looking forward to an evening of blissful rest with my baby sleeping next to me.

Not so.

Number One tends to be a loud sleeper. Random noises throughout the night. Waking his sister regularly at 5am with no knowledge of the fact. Couple those tendencies with a fever and a wicked earache and you’ve got the makings for a crazy night in mama's bed. After waking him up four times to ask him to please be quiet (poor Sugar had no idea what I was talking about), we finally had to move him into his own room to be quarantined. Not because of his sickies, but because of his noises.

Again at three am, he was so loud that I had to go into his room, turn on the big light, call his name and smack him around a little bit before his precious disoriented self finally awoke to his bug-eyed mom hovering over him in a full on whisper-yell pleading, “What in the WORLD is wrong with you?!” Again, poor Sugar had no idea.

At the doctor’s office today, we realized he hadn’t been there since his Kindergarten screening. It’s now more than two and a half years later. Pretty good track record for health, I’d say. So, my heart softened a little. And, when he woke up from his four-hour early evening nap on the couch, I invited him into my room for a snack of Goldfish and water and some more Winter Olympics. At 10:30pm. Maybe I’m swooning a little over his snuggles.

That is until he falls asleep…then it’s quarantine city again.

Every mama has her limits.

And one year later...

2010-02-15T19:00:00.000-08:00

Say what you want, but I know what you're thinking. Where have I been and why have I abandonded the raving success that used to be this BLOG???

I've been scolded, prodded, poked and cajoled. Yet none could persuade me. I know...the masses have been waiting.

So, here it is. Long overdue. The suspense is killing you, I know.

I am pleased to announce....the official re-start of this blog.

Get on board peeps, it's gonna be fun!

He’s still four…

2009-02-07T19:44:00.001-08:00

I did predict it.

After his third and final birthday celebration of the year today, Richie needed to know:

Richie: "Mom, am I still four?"

Me: "Yes."

Richie: "BUT WHEN AM I GONNA TURN FIVE???"

Me: "Next January."

Richie: "Oh for pete's sake!"

Yes, he actually said that last part.

Girl fun…

2009-02-02T19:19:00.001-08:00

Last night we had our good friends the Clarks over to watch the Super Bowl. Avery and Meghann spent the entire evening in Avery's room playing. At some point it became evident to them that they were having a bit of a hard time agreeing on what form of play would be most fun. So, they did what any enterprising, self-respecting, intelligent, Type A girls would do.

They negotiated.

The result was the following "to do list" of fun things to accomplish during the evening. After each fun thing was accomplished, they checked it off the list and moved to the next one.

I typed the list here verbatim for your enjoyment.

glidr and pate
dol hows
clingn up
playing prises
playing with stufys
woching a moofy
dasing to musike
resting

those are old

9. fathin showe

10. poot on exchrols

For those of you who might find yourselves little-girl-illiterate, I will attempt to translate.

Glitter and paint
Doll house
Clean up
Playing princess
Playing with stuffed animals
Watching a movie
Dancing to music
Resting (this is my favorite!)

Those are old (like, we've already done 1 through 8 and that was SOOOO 8 o'clock).

9. Fashion show

10. Put on…..? (This one sill baffles me. Maybe Heather has an idea?)

How old am I again…?

2009-01-24T19:24:00.001-08:00

Richie turned four this week. My baby. Four. I think I was pregnant for four straight years and now I've been un-pregnant for that same amount of time.

The time. It flies.

So, Tuesday was his big day and we decided to let him choose dinner. Chick-Fil-A. He kept asking where his presents were and when his party was going to happen. We explained that he would have three parties. One immediate family dinner at Chick-Fil-A. One family party over the weekend. And, one pirate party with his buddies a few days after that.

Well, today (Saturday) was the family party. He was asked over lunch how old he was. He said, "I'm FIVE!" He was promptly corrected and then he immediately came over to me and asked, "Mom…am I five?" I said, "No, you're still four." He said, "How long will I be four?" Until next year, dear. He said, "But today is my party!" clearly misunderstanding that we are STILL celebrating his FOURTH birthday.

Tonight as Richard was tucking him into bed he told Richie that he sure was glad he had a great party today. Richie looked at him with very confused eyes, lifted his little hands in the air and said…."Dad, I have no idea how old I am."

Poor sweetie. Next week at his pirate party, he'll no doubt want SIX candles on his cake.

The time does indeed fly, but let's not get too ahead of ourselves!

What’s up with the menus…?

2008-12-12T19:24:00.001-08:00

So, we went out to dinner tonight. Met some friends. Kids sat at a separate table. It was fabulous. I do have to ask this question, though…

…What's up with the menus?

I kid you not, the menu that I received was approximately 4 feet wide and 3 feet tall. You would have thought they were expecting a brood of far-sighted giants rather than the normal-sized, contacts wearing lot of us who were there. Had we so desired, we could have landed airplanes on those ridiculous things. The pictures of the food on the menu were as big as my entire head.

I would have been perfectly satisfied with a plain-old 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper with perhaps a nice font and short description of the items being served. Instead, I got a billboard. And not just ONE billboard, mind you. Each of us four adults received our own! Perhaps if they had mounted one on an easel in the opposite corner of the restaurant we would not have been stabbing each other in the eyes with all the opening and closing and twisting and excuse-me-please-would-you-scoot-your-chair-over-there-isn't-enough-room-here-for-my-MENU!!

Meanwhile, the children each received a tiny sliver of paper with two crayons to keep them occupied for the 65 minutes we waited for our food to arrive.

Here's a tip. Give the giant menus to the kids for scribbling. A modest sheet of paper will do for the rest of us.

Thank you.

And, if you want any more tips on how to run a restaurant….or airport….or kids coloring booth….just let me know. This timely advice is free to all.

Chats around the AMAs…

2008-11-24T07:19:00.001-08:00

Last night after church, I snuggled up on the couch with the kids in front of the TV. There wasn't much on, so I decided to turn on the American Music Awards that I had recorded. Since we almost NEVER watch anything like this, I was hesitant but figured the pause/fast forward would come in handy. Boy did it ever! We were only able to watch about 15% of what the show had to offer, but I just had to share some of the keen observances the kids had.

Me: Okay guys, we can watch a little bit of this show until it gets weird. (Christina Aguilera's opening act was first.)

Carson (a mere 12 seconds later just after Christina freed herself of her modest coat to reveal whatever that was she was wearing underneath): Ok, Mom, I think it's getting weird.

Fast Forward to New Kids On The Block:

Me: Oh, hey, New Kids! These guys were really popular when I was in Jr. High.

Carson: They don't look like kids.

Avery: Yeah, are they gonna change their name?

Fast Forward to whoever it was that introduced Pink. I'm not sure who it was, but he had "issues":

Avery: Is he nervous?

Me (slightly under my breath): I think he's stoned.

Carson: What? He's moving. He's not stone!

Carson (a little later): Her name is PINK??

Avery: Is it because she wears pink all the time?

Me: I have no idea why her name is Pink.

Fast Forward through a few other award announcements and strange performances:

Avery (tenderhearted as ever): If we said we didn't like this to them would it hurt their feelings?

Fast Forward to Miley Cyrus:

Avery: I CAN'T BELIEVE HANNAH MONTANA IS REAL!!!!!!!

Fast Forward to Ashley Tisdale making an announcement:

Carson: She looks JUST LIKE Sharpay!

Me: She is Sharpay.

Carson: No she's not…she's BROWN! (I'm not sure if he was referring to her hair or to her spray tan, but clearly she could not have been Sharpay.)

Fun times in the Wal-Mart bathroom…(TMI alert)

2008-11-21T12:24:00.001-08:00

Richie and I did the grocery run today. The last stop of the morning was Wal-Mart and by the time we got there, my breakfast smoothie had made its way to the exit and I had to use the facilities. Normally, I try to avoid such trips, but today it could not be helped. Richie happily tagged along after I promised we could go back and revisit the Lightning McQueen pillow that I peeled him away from.

I need to preface this story be letting you know that the kids had a little tummy trouble last week. I'm on high monitor for all restroom activities and have been asking all sorts of obnoxious mommy questions about the "status" of their goings. So, what follows is probably all my fault yet nevertheless embarrassing.

Richie requested to sit outside the restroom on the bench and wait for me, but I didn't trust the situation. So, he came in with me but opted to wait in the sink area. The restroom was empty so I felt it was ok. I mean, what in the world could he get into? In a public restroom. Out of my reach. Anyway…

Shortly, another woman entered. That's when Richie decided to start quizzing me. He asked, in loud echo-y fashion – "Mom, are you going POOP or PEE???"

SILENCE. Pretend he didn't just say that. Hope the lady next door didn't hear it.

Rich: "MOM! Are you going POOP or PEE???"

Me: "Can you just wait a minute please?"

Rich: "But are you going POOP or PEE???"

Me: "Richie, please. Be quiet."

Rich: "But MOM…are you going POOP or PEE???"

Me: (mortified) "Can we please just talk about it in a minute?"

Thankfully, he decided to end his line of questioning, but then decided to get down on the floor, peek under the stall door and announce, "Hey, Mom! I can SEEEEEE YOU!" I couldn't decide if I was more bothered that he was peeking in on me, that he was announcing it or that he was CRAWLING AROUND ON THE FLOOR OF THE PUBLIC RESTROOM!

Next time, I'm definitely bringing him all the way in with me. At least that way, I can physically hush him if he starts getting too nosey!

Sweetest thing ever…

2008-11-16T19:07:00.001-08:00

If you had been at our house on this restful Sunday afternoon, you would have been delighted by the sweetness. I knew it was coming, but it was better than I anticipated.

Last night, Avery told me that she and Daddy were planning a garage sale that would be held in her bedroom. This came shortly on the heels of a discussion between her and me about making some space in her bedroom for some possible new toys she would receive at Christmas. I thought she and Daddy just might be doing a little re-organizing. But no, this was strictly for FUN.

After all had been prepped this afternoon, I heard the call from upstairs…"We need some customers!" When I topped the stairs, I saw this:

Now, seriously. Is that not the sweetest thing ever?? She had another one taped on the front of her bedroom door:

When I walked in, she had arranged everything just perfectly. There was music playing in the background. She had neatly displayed several outfits on her bed. All of the "bags" she had for sale were stacked neatly together. I was free to peruse her closet for anything I might want to purchase. There was even a neatly covered basket in the corner which contained items "not currently for sale." (In case you're wondering…her baby dolls.)

I dutifully played the role of interested and chatty neighbor. Even Carson got in on the action. He played the part of "George"…the old guy next door who traditionally comes by several times throughout the yard sale checking to see if anything new has been laid out. By the end of the 30-minute garage sale, he had made four stops at the sale and had spent approximately $624,332.12. It was not a cheap sale.

I also found out that Avery's dad was not married and did not have a girlfriend, so I took the opportunity to slip him my phone number. Wink, wink.

I know Avery had a wonderful time setting it all up with her Daddy and Carson did declare it was "the very best garage sale EVER." I have to agree. I scored a holiday Avon catalog, a stretchy yellow exercise band and a purple sweater Avery never wears for only a million bucks and one sweet kiss!

Why?

2008-09-06T05:05:00.001-07:00

I have one day of the week when I can sleep in. It's called Saturday. Bless-ed Saturday. School isn't calling, church isn't calling. There is NOTHING calling me on Saturday mornings and one of my greatest delights is being up a tad late on Friday night knowing that on Saturday I can sleep in.

I'm not talking about the sleep in of my high school days when I would pop my eyes open around 9am and then just stare at the walls until I felt like getting up around 10am. I'm also not talking about the sleep in of my college days which consisted of finally rolling out of bed at 12:30pm just in time to hit the cafeteria before it closed for lunch. I'm talking about maybe an extra hour of sleep…..like waking up at the oh-so-late hour of perhaps 8am. I would even appreciate 7:30am.

My littlest, Richie, enjoys sleeping in every day. Such to the point that I have to physically drag him off of the top bunk at 6:50 each morning while he whines and cries and refuses to move even one muscle to help me get his sleepy behind up!

But on Saturdays? For the last three weeks IN A ROW, Richie has burst into my bedroom BEFORE 6:30am cheerful as ever and needing something right-that-minute from me.

WHY?????

His standard requests at this terrible hour are:

"Can I have a snack? " For which there are follow up request such as "I can't reach it!" And, "Can you open it for me? "
"I want to watch a show!"--which implies in MY bedroom while he sits on MY pillow with HIS blanket and all other manner of his comforty items. This also has the standard follow-up request of "Turn it up!" He could at least offer a "please"…right?
And today's request…"My controller is out of batteries." My response…"Get a different one." Seriously. I shouldn't have to walk him through that process at 6:30am on Saturday. It hearkens back to the morning of the "nunCHUNK" in the toilet.

Help. Me. Please!

I’ve been tagged…

2008-09-02T20:15:00.001-07:00

I have tagged by one of my blogging friends, Me-Moddy. I'm not really sure what being "tagged" means. It's conjuring up images for me from elementary school that I'd rather just forget.

But being the good sport that I am, I have decided to play along…albeit a fortnight and then some overdue…sorry for the delay, Kara!

To participate in the tagging I believe I'm supposed to list six random things about myself. Feel free to grab a cup of coffee and settle in.

I skipped a grade. It was Kindergarten. You might think that since it was such an early grade that it doesn't count as really skipping a grade, but it does. I graduated from high school two weeks after my 17^th birthday. Yeah, I was always a young-un. Not only did I skip a grade, early on I was in a self-paced learning environment and soon paced myself right out of two additional grades of math. So, while my fellow 12 year olds were learning to use their protractors in sixth grade, I was in the 7^th grade getting my algebra on with the 9^th graders. Talk about not knowing where you belong! You might wonder what I've done in my life with all that early mathematical aptitude…well, aside from acing my university calculus course, pretty much absolutely nothing.

And, in case you were wondering, I would not recommend allowing children to skip grades no matter how genius they may be. It gets to be a social quagmire right around jr. high. At least, I blame my personal awkwardness on being the youngest of my peers. But, perhaps it is just my awkwardness itself that should be blamed…I had more than my fair share, I think!
All of my children were born on Thursdays. Maybe just a coincidence, but special to me!
I border on Road Rage. I have several driving behavior pet peeves, but here are the three most likely to earn somebody a stare down.
1. Driving under the speed limit. There is no excuse for this.
2. Riding my bumper. I will brake randomly and suddenly. Be prepared.
3. Driving in the left lane being passed by drivers on the right. Can you not see that people are passing you ON THE RIGHT??? Move over!!
I feel like I need to repent after making this confession.
My dream job would be teaching. I taught two semesters at a local university a few years ago. Loved it.
Ironically, my nightmare job would be home-schooling.
In the five houses I've lived in since getting married, I've personally painted a total of 21 rooms. The most recent was my kitchen this past weekend which I have now painted twice.

There you have it. Six random things about me.

Perhaps I’ve taken it a bit too far…

2008-08-15T15:30:00.001-07:00

My kids eat healthy (well, with the occasional exception of Richie who I trick into eating greens by buying the little veggie-gummies at the health food store). We eat veggies. Fruit. No high fructose corn syrup. No sugary juice. Natural peanut butter. Fish. Organic when reasonable. I think I've actually unintentionally offended some family members by my vigilance over what my children are allowed (or NOT allowed) to eat.

The kids have been so great about all the "healthies" I pack in their lunch box. Yes, they do get treats, but it's usually very special when we do.

But, something tells me I may have crossed some sort of line…the one that takes me just ever so slightly past "responsible mommy" over into "uh…dude…your mom's a total health freak."

Today was Domino's pizza day at school and Carson and Avery were both allowed to order a piece. I packed them fruit for snack and organic chocolate chip cookies for dessert. The first words out of Carson's mouth when I picked him up from school were…(in full whine) "MOOOOMMMMM…you didn't pack me any vegetables!!!" I didn't realize I was raising a full-on herbivore.

THEN…

5 minutes later in the same car ride, I told the kids we were getting Chinese for dinner. They were THRILLED. And, in my chipper, generous mood, I decided to announce that since it is Friday and they've had such a great first week of school that we are going to have SODA with our dinner. Richie shouted…"SODA???? What's SODA?"

I ain't lyin'.

I may have gone too far.

And so it begins…

2008-08-10T21:10:00.001-07:00

…the beginning of the going away. My little girl is growing up and spreading her wings a little more tomorrow. As I tucked her in tonight, I prayed over her that her path would be smooth, that her mind would be open to all that God has for her and that her relationships would grow in new and exciting ways. Then, I got a little misty-eyed as I told her that this was her last night as a non-school girl…at least for the next 15 or so years. She snickered as if it was nothing. I set her alarm clock, turned on her music and gave her our traditional tickle. I kissed her goodnight and kissed a sweet goodbye to the way it's been since her birth.

Tomorrow, a new world begins.

Date night, second edition…

2008-08-09T05:36:00.001-07:00

So, a few days after my first date night with Avery, I went out with one of my other favorite buddies, Carson. We decided to hit The Wal Mart again for school supplies, but chose one that we don't normally frequent. I was sure we'd be in and out in a flash like we were with Avery, but I think I have to say that The Wal Mart we went to might be one of the most dysfunctional and unorganized I've ever seen. I actually felt like I was in K-Mart…which I have found to be notoriously sloppy. And, of course the first grade list was substantially longer than the K list, so we were on the hunt for more obscure items such as Styrofoam spheres, legal-sized construction paper, and poster-board….any of which I could have found easily in my local Wal Mart, but which took us 3 laps and a host of blue-vested helpers to find. I couldn't even find the Wet Ones, for heavens sake and trust me, I'm normally able to sniff those out anywhere!

Once we had secured our 5 bags!!! of items, we headed out to the mall in search of a nice belt. Since he's required to wear a belt every day, it couldn't be just any belt. Last year's supposed "genuine leather" model from Target was shedding its evidently man-made outer lining toward the end of the year. I think we found one that'll work a little better.

Dinner at Nakato was in order…Carson loves the Hibachi grill and the Japanese noodles. And, with our bellies full, we headed to The Palace (land of the $2.50 movies) to watch the delightful Nim's Island—two Abigail Breslin movies in one week! That girl is so cute.

All in all, a SUPER date with my little man. Such a gentleman he was, opening doors using all of his manners. He even kissed me twice without prompting and told me that he loved me at dinner.

I can't believe his first "summer vacation" is coming to an end. The speed of life is beginning to startle me.

Date night, first edition…

2008-08-02T06:01:00.001-07:00

I believe it's becoming a tradition….last week had two dates with two of my most favorite people! The school supply lists came in and so I scheduled solo Mommy Dates with Carson and Avery. Talk about fun!

First, I took Avery. She is what I describe as tentatively excited about Kindergarten. She knows her teacher (same angelic teacher Carson had last year) and so that helps. It also helps that her Big Brother will be right nearby to help her if she should have need of anything. She knows that she's supposed to be excited, but I don't know that it's quite sunk in for her yet how big and wonderful a change is around the corner.

Well, for our date night, we grabbed her school supply list and headed to The Wal-Mart. We had everything picked out in a matter of mere minutes. She was like lightning with her decisiveness. I'm pretty sure that everything that could be pink is pink - including her new monogrammed and personalized pink backpack and lunch box which we ordered online.

We jetted out of The Wal Mart up the road to The Mexican Restaurant where we thought it would be cool to sit on the same side of the booth like big girls. We shared cheese dip and tacos and on the way out, the cashier gave her a quarter to buy one of those gigantic hallow balls of purple bubble gum…which we rarely let the kids have…and which she later regretted saying it went bad too fast.

After that, we sped down to Branson to the only theatre in the area still showing Kit Kittredge: An American Girl. I highly recommend this movie to anyone with kids! It was fantastic. It'll definitely be on the "buy and watch a million times at home" list for when it comes out on DVD.

After securing our tickets, popcorn and M&Ms, we embarked down the hallway to our theatre. We were giddy that we were the only ones there! We marveled together at the idea of having the whole place to ourselves. Avery took her liberty and tried out nearly every seat in the room searching for the best view. Once she found it, I settled in while she ran up to the front of the theatre and began dancing to the movie commercial music – it was her usual Pre-school Hip-Hop meets Beginning Ballet routine.

I was delighted and as great as the movie was, I would have rather watched her all night. She is one of my best friends on earth. I couldn't be more thankful for the gift of mothering her. A true treasure of heaven right here in my own home. Amazing.

I wish I could take credit for this…

2008-07-07T20:29:00.001-07:00

I hate role playing video games. You know, the ones where the players get sucked into some virtual reality where they have a little character who has some sort of "gift" (like healing or magic or the ability to turn living things into rocks…and what-have-you). And these little characters (and their owners) spend hours on end "upping" their skills and their level by sitting around virtually practicing their particular craft (such as making bows and arrows, leatherworking, or perhaps needlepoint). Then they run around the virtual countryside and pick fights with one another.

It's a completely ridiculous notion of how to spend one's free time – in my opinion.

I could go on and on and on about how and why I loathe such forms of entertainment, but that would leave you bored and me breathless, so I'll move on to the funny part….

Richard has been playing what I consider a cousin to the role playing games described above. He and his buddy get "online" at nighttime, don their headphones and little microphones and join each other out on some military expedition two or three nights a week. I don't think you level, rather you get a score for how many people you take out…evidently. There's quite a lot of shooting and bombing noises and the whole thing can be rather graphic and alarming.

It's not as heinous as some other games I've observed, but nevertheless….time wasted – in my opinion.

The game is called Call of Duty.

Richard informed me that earlier this week little Richie has been talking about the game.

Richie calls it "Cock-A-Doodie."

Seriously, I can't take credit for that, but oh I wish I could!

It's a brilliant insight for a little 3-year-old don't you think?

Expressive, much?

2008-07-01T05:56:00.001-07:00

Avery's been really impressing us with her vocabulary lately. Here are a couple of recent samples:

"Mom, these green beans are the Holy Spirit. They are SO GOOD!"

And, just this morning….

"Mom, if you heat up strawberry milk, that is GYMNASTICS. I love it!!"

Richard has always said that it doesn't really matter what words or random grunts you use to communicate. As long as the recipient understands your meaning, then your attempt to convey meaning has succeeded.

So true.

A’s birthday party…

2008-06-28T07:11:00.001-07:00

I was waiting to post on this until I had a few pictures to go along with the comments. I still have no idea how to work our new camera. I should have stuck with the old one.

Our baby girl turned 5 years old earlier this month and to celebrate we had a few of her friends over for an Olympics-themed party. Our kids have never seen the Olympics before and I tend to really get into watching them, so this was a fun little primer for the festivities in August!

As each of the children arrived, we asked them to choose a country that began with the first letter of their first name which they would represent in the games. Most of the children chose a normal-ish country such as Kenya, China, Mexico. We did have one little squirrel that announced his country was Djibouti. And, of course we all had great fun yelling Ja-Booty all day long. In fact, I still call him Ja-Booty….three weeks later.

In preparation for the opening ceremony, we also asked each child to name three things that they are really good at or enjoy very much. We used these pronouncements to introduce each of them and it went a little something like this:

(Olympic theme song playing in the background for full effect)...Introducing KEONA from KENYA!! Keona is a world champion ballerina, a colorer beyond compare and she is great at "imaginating!!" Then we would all clap and cheer as she marched around the swing set. You should have seen their little faces when they were marching around and everyone was cheering. It was so cute! They all looked so proud.

After that, we had four or five games all planned out by fabulous Daddy….soccer kicks, 50 yard dash, golf, and the water relay. We had to call it quits a little earlier than we had planned because the children were not doing so well in the heat. I certainly didn't want anyone fainting on my watch, so we headed inside for cake and gifts and then back out again for the medal ceremony.

All in all it was a great day! Lots of memories and silly moments. Here are a few pics:

A year’s not a long time…if you’re a tree

2008-06-26T20:34:00.001-07:00

About a year ago….well, 14 months to the day to be EXACT….I started a little painting project in the house. Not really thinking ahead at the time, I was only able to conquer one wall of our living area before I thought, "Hey, there's a vault in here. Hmm…I don't think I can reach that." Yeah. Not much foresight there. So, after enduring half-painted walls for 14 months which included a lovely piece of blue masking tape up in the hallway ceiling for yes 14 months we finally hired the work out.

Brilliant. I love it.

The walls are now a lovely bluish color – Sherwin Williams Silvermist. Thanks to my ever-encouraging girlfriends, I decided to go with a non neutral and I am SO GLAD!!! Blue is my favorite color. It makes me the happiest. It feels great to have it accomplished.

Now, I get to re-decorate! I'm looking online for some of my other favorites to pull everything together…white McCoy pottery and maybe our first foray into "real" art! Check back in around August '09. Maybe I'll have it finished by then!

Oh and HEY…just as an update…as of today, items one through five on this list have all been FIXED! Yeah!!!

Mrs. Safety – Does she wear a cape?

2008-06-24T05:35:00.001-07:00

So, just a short while back we adventured with two dear, dear friends Heather and Natalie and their babes down to The Land of Really Bad Bathing Suits and Hideous Sunburns (a.k.a. White Water). It was the first trip in memory for all of our kids.

Heather and I arrived first in full mommy mode. We were ready for a lovely day and had 5 excited kids in tow. We yelled traumatic warnings as the kids tried to dash through the parking lot in their excitement. We followed our loud STOP STOP STOP warnings with eye to eye lessons on the dangers of running in the lot AND not always IMMEDIATELY stopping when they hear our voices. We fed the children a picnic lunch with not a stitch of un-healthy - you know, natural peanut butter, carrots, cheese and the like. We slathered them with enough sunscreen to keep the sun out for a decade, made sure every non-swimmer had a perfectly fitting life jacket and then headed over to the little tikes area.

The water was cold, but the children seemed to be having a blast with the little sprinklers and the four small, age-appropriate slides. There were no tears, all felt safe and secure and there was fun being had all around.

Enter Natalie. If you don't know Natalie, picture boundless sunshine, fun on wheels and reckless abandon. She the type that wet-willies your children, lets her kids have small rodents in the house and actually enjoys camping. As Heather and I are leading the kids out of the little tikes area (to find another little tikes area to shake things up a bit), we meet Natalie who had come to find us. I'm pretty sure she said – what are you all doing over here?? Let's head to the BIG SLIDES!!! At this point, I think my adrenaline rushed just a bit. I've been on the big slides. My children? – Um…no. She suggested the family slide where we all go down in a giant tube together. I thought that sounded nice and kept me within arm's reach of each of my younguns, so we headed off (after another application of sunscreen and a 7-child potty break that lasted roughly a half hour!).

After the family slide went well, Natalie says, Hey Guys! How about we go on the big ones?! You can go down BY YOUR SELF!!! Right then I'm pretty sure I morphed into full-on Mrs. Safety and if I'd had one handy I would have donned my cape. I immediately experienced the horror in my mind of shoving my precious, priceless children down a slippery, dark, terrifying hole BY THEMSELVES. I could already hear the screaming and trauma in my head. I'm nervous, I'm scared, but Natalie leads on. Carson comes up the hill carrying his own tube and grinning ear to ear. Avery wants to go too, so after waiting my turn at the bottom catching all the kids (and seeing that Carson didn't come out upside down), Avery, Richie and I head up to check out the all-open slide. Avery went down by herself and was quite a trooper. Richie and I rode together and all was well. Whew, ok. We can do this.

I was thinking it might be fun to try that again, but no, that wasn't fun enough for Natalie. No, no. We had to step it up even more. It was as if she wasn't going to be satisfied until we had all peed our suits in terror and then we could laugh all the way home about it. She suggests we all attempt the Bermuda Triangle. Passing by the sign, I notice the height requirement. None of mine are tall enough. Nat says, Aw, Come-on…they never check that stuff. Uhh…..ok. Well, I say THIS SLIDE IS A LEVEL FOUR!! The last one was just a three. I'm not so sure about this. At this point, Nat begins teasing me and reading all other warnings on the sign (like the one about being under 300 lbs – Hey Kids, make sure you're not overweight! Ha ha!). Great. Now I'm scared and I'm being mocked. What fun! J There were also no doubles allowed on this ride, so the kids had to go by themselves. They wanted to. But they had no idea what they were getting into.

At Natalie's urging (and mocking), I let them go against my better judgment. Carson loved it. Avery….not so much. She was screaming as she came out of the slide. Rather than give the official Mrs. Safety I Told You So to my friend, I focused my energy on assuring Avery of how proud I was of her being SO SO brave.

Thankfully, the smaller ones were getting restless, so we headed back over for snacks and the little play area. At the end of the day, we tried one more slide. It was the one the put us all over the edge. It was what has infamously been called simply "the white slide" in our house. Since it was a partially open slide, I thought it couldn't be worse than the all-enclosed Bermuda Triangle that the kids did earlier. Perhaps I was wrong. Carson, the daredevil was ready to go! Avery was trembling at the top of the slide and I had to physically place her in the tube and – again, against the code of Mrs. Safety, push her into the dark. I was so concerned that I really didn't have time to mess with Richie who was outright SCREAMING that he didn't want to go down with me. I shoved him into my lap and pushed off as fast as they'd let us.

That slide scared the beee-jeeeebers out of me. Richie and I were both traumatized. He screamed the whole way down and for 30 minutes after. When we got to the bottom, Avery was screaming as well….she had been helped out of her tube by the life guard who evidently asked repeatedly "WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER??" while I was trying to get down to her.

I did learn a few lessons that day:

It can be life-giving to have fun friends who push you to do things you might not normally consider.
When your mom alarm goes off – before shutting things down, consider if this might not be an opportunity for growth.
When your mom alarm starts screaming blazing blaring – say no.
When Mrs. Safety goes to the water park she should never, and I repeat NEVER forget her cape!

Where have you been?

2008-06-06T20:51:00.001-07:00

It's the question I've heard often recently. Yes, I realize I've dropped off the bloggy planet. Yes, I have good reasons…well, sorta. And, yes, I know you miss me. At least some of you do.

So, I hope to be better now that summer is upon us and theoretically that means all sorts of time to do nothing other than blog. There has been MUCH that has happened over the last few weeks while I've been away. I'm going to do my best to give a quick recap here. To delve into it all as deeply as I might normally, would be too laborious for me as well as for you, dear gracious reading friend. It may take you a few days to read all of this, but that's okay right? Just making up for lost time! So, in my best attempt at the correct chronological order, may I present to you….what's been UP while I've been OUT?

I'll just get this out of the way up front. The main reason I dropped off the planet was due to this thing called "my job" and an immense amount of pressure that came up right around the beginning of May. I'm so thankful for my job but I'm WAY more thankful God is with me through all sorts of situations. I nearly like-ta-have-croaked with that one. But, it's over now! (I think.) I'm still working, just not dying.
American Idol – David Cook was my fave from the beginning. Loved the crossword puzzles, the increasingly shaggy facial hair, the music, the attitude. Hated Simon for raking him over the coals in the finale. Literally jumped out of my bed and did a fist pump complete with a "YES! YES!" when he was announced the winner. He's gonna rock it out big time. Can't wait for the first album.
We had hail damage earlier this year. Got a new roof! Those two sentences encompassed about 18 full hours of my life in May. My first real foray into homeowners' insurance claims…what a quagmire.
Carson won first place in his Kindergarten class spelling bee. Oh the joy and celebration that one sparkly blue ribbon can set off in our household. It was about 3 weeks ago and the prize is still hanging from the light fixture over the kitchen table.
Avery is seriously good at soccer. We're so proud of her. On the last day of the season, she had a double header and scored 5 goals. Not too shabby, Little One! And, she does it all on quickness and determination…none of that pushing and shoving mess…no ma'am. That's for the Slow!
Avery also had a ballet recital in May. We spent roughly 45 hours at rehearsals, $119 in gasoline, $40 on her "costume fee" and $20 for tickets all for the pleasure of watching her praise Jesus for a total of 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Really…it was priceless.
I helped a neighbor friend coordinate a neighborhood garage sale. Ugh. But, the purging felt so good.
I have officially recovered from UNC's loss to Kansas in the Final Four. I told you it would take a few weeks. It did. I'm now looking forward to next year and the return of Psycho T!
During the garage sale, Super Heather brought over some of her stuff to sell. This point really deserves an entire blog unto itself. In one sentence, she transformed our immensely cluttered and trashed up garage into a glistening palace of organized order and joy. Oh yes, it was that good.
Then…literally…just a handful of days later, my friend Cindy divulges that she, like Heather, has this amazing gift of organization. She then volunteers to come over and help me with my choice of rooms. The choice was the "craft closet"….Scrapbook Explosion is now Scrapbook Heaven. I'm not even sure I want to scrapbook since I'll have to mess up the closet to do it. Thank GOD for friends like these!!!!
I took over the family finances. Oh my word. I've been to see a financial advisor. It's been a wicked learning process, but in 50 years I hope to say it was worth it! And I do mean in cold hard cash, people.
We temporarily traded vans with Richard's parents. We have decided to keep our van until it literally falls apart, so Pop is working his magic on the windshield, the door that Richard damaged in some freak wind storm and the side panel that I ever so slightly rubbed against a ginormous metal dumpster. Dang trash can.
Richie has managed a newfound love of nakedness. It hearkens back to the days of the diaper and boots ensemble only this time buck naked….as often as we'll let him, but always at naps. He's alarmed several of our friends. Dear souls….they still love us.
Carson graduated from Kindergarten and it was the river of tears you might expect from this softie. It was complete with cap, gown, singing, Kindergarten bell choir, slide show, scripture recitation and the diploma distribution in which Carson's teacher chose the words "articulate" and "mature" to describe him.
Avery also graduated from the Sunday/Wednesday preschool program at church. Gosh, the time is really flying by.
And finally…..this one as well could really use it's own blog. We went to St. Louis as a "school's out" celebration with the kids. We went to a ballgame at which both Avery and Emma got baseballs during practice out in the bleacher seats! They were also chosen to be on Fox that night. Here is the video to prove it! Next day, we went to the zoo. It was great!

Ok, I'm tired of writing and I think you're probably tired of reading. I think I'm back online now and you're caught up with all the major events! Sorry for any typos. This came out fast!

Nothing to fear, my dear…

2008-05-01T20:13:00.001-07:00

So, I'm a couple of days overdue on the birthday drama update. The surprise was…in a word (or three)…so much FUN!

I was in complete knots for the entire day and into the evening. We dropped off the kids with our much loved and very able babysitter at 5:30. I knew that we had until 6:45 to be at what Richard vaguely referred to as "an appointment." So, to kill a bit of time, I suggested we head over to the jewelry store to have my watch battery replace. And, what stop at the jewelry store would be complete without sending the ol' wedding ring through the super jammy jam shine-it-up machine….which has amazing powers when it comes to removing all manner of dirt, kid spit, hamburger meat and whatever else might be lodged in the prongs of your true love's most prized gift.

I also had a bit of b-day cash in my pocket and what better place to spend it than the jewelry store? But, I quickly realized that I really should have been at Claire's in the mall if I expected to buy anything with my birthday cash. Who knew little tiny bracelets were so stinking expensive? I didn't. I left with one ticking watch and one now-sparkling wedding ring.

On the way to "an appointment," Richard got a call on his cell. I could tell instantly he was nervous. He told the person on the phone that we stopped at the jewelry store and immediately I was suspicious. Who in the world would CARE?? He hung up the phone and I gunned him with my first question. Was that Natalie K???? Uhh…stammer….uhh….no….it was Nonna's. AH – HA!!! We were headed to Nonna's…love that restaurant. They said our table wouldn't be ready for 20 minutes. I asked why they couldn't just give us another table, but Rich told me they were saving a special table…which I could have believed because I have a favorite table there. It looks over into the kitchen…

So, with another 20 minutes to spare, we looked around in a downtown boutique and I managed to buy a pair of jeans with some of my b-day money! Woo Hoo. Thanks Mom and Pop!

FINALLY, we got to Nonna's, and sure enough, the hostess asked if we were here for "the party"….I looked up and there were some of my dear, dear friends up there waiting! It was so great. Dan, Heather, Natalie and Rae-Ann all came to celebrate with me. There were balloons, cards, gifts and lots of laughter! It was such a great night and I felt so loved. Thankfully, there was no singing or dancing, but I did nearly try on a bathrobe at the table. J Had to be there!! There was much funny conversation on topics ranging from American Idol to the hunky pics on Richard's blog to Spanakopita (only Rae-Ann can pronounce it correctly) to what in the world would happen if the birthday balloon and it's super blow pop weight were to fall down to the seating area below. I'm telling you, we were out of our minds with hilarity!

The children survived despite having donuts at the sitter's at 8:30pm and not getting to sleep until 10pm! But, they had great fun too. They were happy that I had a surprise party and were only slightly sad that they couldn't have come. But, we're going to celebrate this weekend with family cake baking!

Birthday jitters…

2008-04-29T13:31:00.001-07:00

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?

2008-04-14T15:26:00.001-07:00

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…

2008-04-14T08:24:00.001-07:00

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?

2008-04-11T07:28:00.001-07:00

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…

2008-04-06T19:01:00.001-07:00

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.

A day at the doctor…

2008-03-28T17:48:00.001-07:00

Well, I must really be ill. I've had four straight days of fever. This morning I was in tears with misery and relented to going to Urgent Care to see if anything could be done about my ridiculous dizziness, cough and aching. I rolled right out of bed and somehow despite not being able to even stand up straight, found the energy to smear on a bit of lip gloss because no matter how ridiculous the rest of me looked right out of my sweaty sick bed, I was NOT going to be seen without lip gloss. Turns out that was a waste of time...

I arrived at Urgent Care at 11am. Had to get all my info. into the "system"….SSN, birth date, closest relatives, insurance, marital status, occupation, HIPAA, blah, blah, blah. That took 30 minutes. While waiting, the lovely receptionist informed me that since I had a fever I would be required to wear a yellow surgical mask for the duration of my stay. Yes, a surgical mask. I totally get it. But, seriously….you should have seen how ridiculous I was. Certainly not one of my better moments. All my lip gloss rubbed off inside.

And, just let me say for the record that if you've never worn a surgical mask for 3 straight hours you have NO IDEA how HOT those things are. I was breathing my own hot breath…sweating and all underneath that thing. It was miserable. When no one was around, I did have to pull it down for a few seconds just to get a bit of fresh air.

I finally got called in for the initial nurse check over – weight, questions about relatives, overall health and then she declared with certainty that "you have the FLU, honey." I got what she called the "dreaded flu swabby" in which she jammed a six inch q-tip up my nose and must have swabbed my brain. I think I felt the thing behind my eyeball.

45 minutes later, the doctor arrived. Looked in my nose, mouth and ears and said he thought I had the flu.

30 minutes later, doctor came back and said flu test is negative….better get a chest x-ray.

30 minutes of chest x-ray action.

30 minutes later, doctor came back and said no pneumonia. Well, thank goodness. I'm sure I'll get a $500 bill for that relief.

Then, he took the next several moments to explain to me how we live in a viral world and pretty much how there's no telling what I have but that he'd give me two prescriptions – one for head congestion and one for dizziness. I think that was an obligatory prescription because he perhaps felt guilty that I had been there for THREE HOURS and was about to walk out with NO DIAGNOSIS.

So, I'm back at home tonight after having wasted half my day at Urgent Care. I'm just gonna sit here in the house and wait to get better or wait until the medical bills from today's visit start to roll in…whichever happens first. It'll probably be the latter.

What’s a lonely mom to do…?

2008-03-27T06:16:00.001-07:00

My parents came for a visit over the weekend. Delightful! What's even more delightful is that they offered to take all three of my babes back home with them for the remainder of the week. Well, they really offered to take the two older ones fearing that Richie may have several slightly modified versions of his bubble gum fits in which he goes on and on with the crying over missing his mommy. However, I insisted that he would be just fine….a little spanking may be necessary, but he'd soon get over it and it would certainly not be bad enough that they should leave the one child here with ME! I really was thrilled at the prospect of three entire kid-free days.

Yesterday morning as they were prepared to leave, I knew something was amiss. After dealing with what I thought were allergies for a few days, I began to feel achy. Stink! Just what I needed on Day One of Kid Free-ness was to spend it in bed nursing a fever and a nasty cough. But, that's what I did. The house was eerily quiet. I was completely alone. I was missing them before they even pulled out of the driveway. Now, I was sick….which meant I couldn't do all the glorious things that moms temporarily without kids are supposed to be able to do. I wanted to spend hours walking around the mall, get a pedicure, read a gardening book, watch movies, scrapbook, have tea with a friend. But no, it was not meant to be.

Today, I'm on Day Two of Kid Free-ness and I'm starting to feel the pressure. Feeling somewhat better, but still not up to par. I'd like to do something from my fun list, but the house is a wreck. I have the unfortunate affliction of not being able to do anything fun until the entire house is in order….dishes done, beds made, floor swept, laundry at least sorted and not overflowing in baskets. AHHH! So, even if I felt like doing something FUN, I have to clean up first.

It's hopeless.

Meanwhile, I miss the little stinkers like crazy. I know they're having fun. But, as I sit here guzzling my Emergen-C and staring over the laptop at the unsightly mess in my kitchen, I'm starting to wonder if I ought not just throw all caution to the wind and do something fun BEFORE I clean up.

Oh, the pressure to make the most of these days is intense.

Not so rough and tumble…

2008-03-21T06:31:00.001-07:00

Yesterday Carson was invited over for playtime with a friend from school. Carson usually misses out on our play dates here at home because he's in school, so he and I were both very excited that he could have time with a classmate outside of class. When Classmate's mom called to set it up, she mentioned that Carson might want to bring a pair of boots. In case you haven't seen the news lately, MO has turned into a flooded mess this past week. She also thought it would be nice if Carson brought his bike and helmet because there are some fun trails around their property where the boys could go exploring.

Boots? Hmmm….Carson doesn't own boots. Not rain boots or snow boots or cowboy boots….I figure if the activity requires boots then it's clearly too messy. No boots.

Bike? We got Carson a bike two Christmases ago and I think he's tried to ride it twice. It still has training wheels. It's probably too short for him since he's now 6 and it was given to him when he was 4. No bike.

Exploring? Our definition of exploring is venturing ever so slightly over into our neighbors' green grass yard for one or two minutes at a time….or perhaps finding a new ride at Silver Dollar City.

So, I dropped Carson off bike-less, helmet-less and wearing an old pair of tennis shoes. The shoes were clearly insufficient for the amount of muddy play that was about to ensue, so Classmate's mom immediately offered a pair of their spare boots which they kept in a box on the front porch evidently for cases such as this when moms drop off their sons clearly unprepared for all the manly fun.

Their yard was a little boys play heaven. Expansive space, trees galore, small pond-ish areas, giant sticks, toy guns, tractors, four-wheeler toys. And plenty of mud.

When I went back to pick Carson up I found him with mud from his knees down, boots on, stick in hand running about the place in blissful glee. Classmate informed me that they had a wonderful time and said that perhaps next time Carson comes over he could help with their family project of cutting down a couple of trees near the house. The kids' job would be as the chainsaw loosens the base of the tree to pull on the large ropes at the top of the tree until it fell.

Chainsaw? Don't even get me started.

Thank heaven we're not all the same. How would we ever learn?

How NOT to look cool or smart…

2008-03-17T17:36:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog entitled How NOT to make your girlfriends like you. I'm considering starting a series on "How NOT To"s because it would seem that I lately have more to bring to the bloggy table by way of learning from my unfortunate mistakes rather than offering up some well-thought, creative morsels of How TO.

Beware. The remainder of this post delves into the depths of my psyche. If that frightens you (as well it probably should) and you feel you need to meander off into some otherr's more frivolous bloggy drivel by all means feel free. I am un-offended.

I hate being perceived as dumb. It's one of my greatest fears. If I think that you think that I'm not all together upstairs, I'll likely have an anxiety attack.

Earlier this week, I sent an email to a friend. In the email I made reference to "Gov. Jim Talent"…….TWICE! Now, anyone who knows their Missouri state current events can tell you right away the gross mistake I had made. Clearly, Jim Talent is not the governor of Missouri. Matt Blunt is the governor of Missouri. Jim Talent is a former SENATOR. I knew that! I really did. I'm quite sure my friend just brushed over this little mistake with an "oh, poor girl" and moved right along with her life. But, when I realized just this morning that I had made this mistake last week, I spent a good two hours obsessing over how in the world I was going to right this wrong and clearly explain to my friend that I'm not a total political moron. I thought about sending her an email explaining myself, but I thought that would be a bit too much. Maybe a more subtle approach….say, slipping the words "former senator Jim Talent" into our next conversation with emphasis on the "senator" just to make sure she hears me clearly. Perhaps I could get a little t-shirt printed up with Jim Talent's face on the front and the word SENATOR just below….then I could wear it next time I see her. On the back, it would say, I AM NOT AN IDIOT. I think that's the real message I'd want to send. Definitely how NOT to look cool or smart.

I felt like one of those poor souls that appear on Jay Leno's L.A. in-the-streets segments where they ask ridiculous questions like "whose face is on the American penny?" and the person stands there blankly and then finally says "uh……Mickey Mouse?" Definitely how NOT to look cool or smart.

This whole incident reminded me of a similar event several weeks ago. I normally enjoy calling people by name when I pass them in the hallway at work or at church. I feel it's an affirming thing to do. So, one evening at church recently, I passed a girl who I've known as an acquaintance for several years. Upon passing her, I said quite chipperly, "HI, DEBORAH!!" She smiled and said hello in return. It was .005 seconds later that I was struck with sheer panic. Her name isn't Deborah. It's Diana! Dang-it! I wanted to turn around and apologize profusely, but the shame of my error was too much to bear and I just kept walking. I obsessed for the next several days about how to right that wrong….to let her know that I do in fact know her name. Should I call her? Should I bring it up next time I see her? Should I send her flowers and a card with her name on the front? Definitely NOT how to look cool or smart.

Bottom line….if you want to NOT look cool or smart, speak before you think. Then, spend an inordinate amount of time coming up with ridiculous ways to go back and make it right. Then, write a blog about it so everyone can be disturbed over the workings of your inner self.

Or, if you want to BE cool and smart try not trying so hard to look cool and smart. Just laugh at yourself and don't obsess over silly things you say. It's okay to look dumb now and again and perhaps even healthy to catch a little dose of humility.

Bracketology...

2008-03-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

Today is one of my favorite days of the year. Selection Sunday…that glorious day when the NCAA basketball conference tournaments championships are won and the field is set for the NCAA tournament. I like it better than most holidays. It ranks over every special day except Christmas, kids’ birthdays and Easter. Well, and maybe except our wedding anniversary. Maybe. :) I remember as a young teen falling in love with basketball....actually falling in love with Christian Laettner whose last second jump shot in the 1992 tournament to put Duke over Kentucky in what is the BEST PLAY IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

That game turned me into a college basketball fan! After that game, I spent countless hours collecting magazine articles, newspaper articles, anything I could find and compiling them into my Duke Blue Devils super fan scrapbook. I was obsessed. I have great memories after that of filling out brackets annually with my little brother who would painstakingly write them out by hand and paste them up on his bedroom wall. Making our picks holds great memories for me.

The tradition has carried down now officially to our children. We’ve been watching a fair amount of college ball around here since our friend Tyler Hansbrough (from my hometown of Poplar Bluff, MO and incidentally whom I used to babysit!) has become the front man for the North Carolina Tar Heels and this season’s Sports Illustrated Player of the Year. We have a basketball in the boys’ room autographed by both Tyler and Ben (now at Mississippi State) that their family gave to us when Richie was born…way back when the biggest news about them was their leading the Poplar Bluff High School team to their second Missouri State championship. Now, we watch them on tv and somehow it never gets old seeing them play. We just sit back and think about how amazing it is that kids from our little neck of the woods in MO are making such a big name for themselves. We’re so proud of them. And our kids get SO excited to watch them play. Needless to say, my old loyalties to Duke have suffered a tragic end as we are now a family fully devoted to the Tar Heels and their quest to dominate college hoops!

Tonight, we had a family meeting after church. Each of us who are able to write…which did not include Richie who preferred to watch an episode of Wow Wow Wubbzy…gathered at the kitchen table with our printed brackets. We gave the kids a short lesson in bracketology and then proceeded to fill out our picks. We all, of course, have UNC taking it all except for Avery who seemed to go her own way on most of her choices despite our instructions that a #1 will nearly ALWAYS beat a #16. Richard and I placed our brackets on the fridge along with Avery who did not want to “lose hers under the bed,” while Carson has decided to sleep with his. Perhaps he’s going to pray over it later.

Now, the wait is on for Thursday when the games begin. I’m anticipating great joy watching how our picks play out and even greater joy if the Heels take it all! It’s March Madness, BABY!!

Sing, sing, sing…

2008-03-14T18:48:00.001-07:00

My good friend Natalie wrote a get-you-thinking post the other day about music in which (among other things) she kindly credited me with helping to broaden her musical tastes during our two years together as college roommates. I've always liked just about every kind of music (except of course the "nasty hard core devil stuff…you know what I mean"). I love Bon Jovi and John Mayer. Miley Cyrus and James Blunt. The Gaithers and Journey. Stephen Curtis Chapman and George Strait. The Killers and CFNI. My favorite radio station is Sirius 9 – The Pulse (90's and today). This morning on the way to school, I was delighting the children by Sirius-ly getting down to Marky Mark's Good Vibrations. That got me thinking about C&C Music Factory and Boyz II Men. I love the Goo Goo Dolls, Garth Brooks, Sarah McLachlan, Dave Matthews, Bela Fleck, Barry Manilow, Celine Dion….. I could go on and on.

But, like my friend Natalie, nothing really cuts to the heart like the old hymns. Earlier this week, Carson's Kindergarten class gave a performance during which they recited Psalm 23 and the poem "Whistles" and played a bell choir hymn. That's enough to make a momma break out the tissues. But, it was when they all sang Take My Life by Frances Ridley Havergal that I really choked up. Somehow unlike all the other music in the world, there are a handful of hymns that speaks right to the heart of me…my purpose and my hope.

Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days;
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice, and let me sing,
Always, only, for my King.
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee.

Take my silver and my gold;
Not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect, and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will, and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love; my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure-store.
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee.

The way we were…

2008-03-12T19:11:00.001-07:00

Well, we just returned on Sunday from a wonderful 4 days in the Dominican Republic. Richard and I had somehow managed not to take one single getaway trip since our honeymoon and it's going on 8 YEARS PEOPLE!! So, it was time. We were invited to go along with some of our best friends and we had a blast!

We stayed at the Dreams Resort in Punta Cana and overall, I'd say it was quite nice. I would give the service an 8 out of 10, the food a 7 and the facilities an 8 (it would be a 9, but our room had this really nasty smell like when you leave wet towels on the floor too long in the laundry room…uh…not that I've ever done that, of course!). The water was all shades of aqua, blue and green. The foliage was rich. The weather was perfect! It was 85 in the day and 75 at night. One of my favorite things to do is sleep with the windows open and we were able to sleep every night with the patio door wide open. We could hear the palm leaves blowing in the wind all night long.

We spent every day doing nothing. We woke up early so as not to waste any beach time, ate breakfast, went to the beach, sunned, read, sipped a few delightful drinks, showered, had dinner, played games after, slept…..washed, rinsed and repeated times three!

The trip, aside from being a glorious escape from our routine, really served to remind me of the way we were….the last time we were able to go away together for awhile. I think a little spark of love re-appeared that has always been there, but just hadn't taken the time in awhile to reflect upon what with all the Mommy business and such. I have the greatest spouse in the world….for me….really I do. I'm so blessed!

Hopefully it won't take another 8 years for us to do something like this again!

My organizing HERO…

2008-03-04T07:20:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago, we moved my office furniture in with Richard's so that we could free up my office for a playroom. All the stray toys that had no home were thrust into the new playroom. Not placed, thrown. We had bookshelves, but they were empty because all of the toys were in the floor. There were crayons strewn about. The toddler kitchen dishes, appliances, wooden fruit and plastic dry goods were scattered all over the floor. Balls, game pieces, toy tools, dvds, puzzles, cut pieces of who knows what paper EVERYWHERE. It was so bad that I couldn't even go into the room. It was such an enormous mess that as soon as I darkened the door it was as if I was immediately paralyzed. I had no idea what to do or even where to begin with cleaning it up, MUCH LESS actually organizing it into anything remotely useful or fun.

Enter Heather. My new hero. She came over for a play-date and knowing that she's particularly gifted with organizing, I went out on a limb and asked if she would just but look at the room and give me a few pointers. Well, she did much more than that. She walked in the room and immediately said, "Oh, this isn't bad at all!" WHAT? This room that I can't move in, can't breathe in, keeps me awake at night for all the horrors of mess? It isn't that bad? Who is this person? THEN….she proceeds to start picking stuff up and organizing it into stations. Stations? I never would have thought of such a thing. We needed a station for crafts, a station for kitchen, a station for reading, a station for sports. Oh, yes, and let's move this bookshelf perpendicular to the wall to create sort of a room within a room effect for coziness. Oh, and the reading corner should be here, just under this one bright light. Yes, and the little girl's iron and ironing board should go with the kitchen in the household area…because that just makes sense. Oh, and this table is perfect for crafts. You need to buy a little organizing basket and have crayons, paper, scissors, glue, etc. all here on hand and the table. Yes…brilliant! Oh, and while we're at it, get the vacuum for me…we need to get these papers up out of here. Do you have a shorter extension cord? What are you using the closet for? How do you feel about moving the tv "here" for better flow?

She must have had a hidden magic wand, people, because in a mere 45 minutes Heather the Hero had turned our nasty playroom into a clean, organized, preschooler-friendly area AND she took the time to train the little people in the house on just where everything was supposed to go and what everything needed to look like in order to qualify as "picked up."

There's nothing like seeing another person's gifts in action!!

Thanks a million, Heather. I've slept well ever since! J

Sounds of life…

2008-03-02T20:39:00.001-08:00

Today I settled in for my Sunday afternoon nap. I was a little concerned at first that my rest would not be so sweet due to all the commotion outside. Carson and Avery were out enjoying the 70 degree weather and had invited our backdoor neighbor children to join them. There was much laughing, yelling, running and screaming going on. But, I didn't really have the heart to stomp out, lean over the back of the deck and give the four of them the mean mommy face while they were clearly having such fun. So, I decided that instead of letting their loudness irritate me and ruin my nap that I would instead embrace it and let it be a soothing backdrop for my rest. And, that it was.

The breeze outside whipped around the house and the sunshine was streaming in through my bedroom windows. Their bursts of laughter intermingled with the chirping songs of little birds. The squeak, squeak of the swing kept time while the kids pushed each other and flew through the air. These are the sounds of life for me. Life in our hearts. Life in our home. Life in our relationships. The laughter reminded me that these are the sounds I live for. Sounds of joy. Sounds of sunny days. Sounds of enjoying life.

I thought back to what the sounds of life have been in the past for me. Sounds of music – can I get an AMEN for the 90's? Sounds of marching band. Sounds of my best friends' laughter. Sounds of the ocean on my first date with RWB. Sounds of "I DO" and "Mom, we're moving….again."

Sounds of babies – that all too familiar wha-wha-wha-wha-wha that sometimes went on for hours on end. Sounds of first words. Sounds of Dora and the Wiggles. Sounds of splashes and giggles in the bathtub. Sounds of "Happy Birthday To You." Sounds of first heartbeats and sounds of diapers filling up. Even though in their present perhaps unpleasant, they were always sounds of life.

I thought ahead to what the sounds of life might be in the future. Sounds of children reading. Sounds of inquisitive conversation. Sounds of backyard sports. Sounds of someone else starting the washing machine! J Sounds of cars starting and kids driving away. Sounds of the front door welcoming my college kids home for a holiday. Sounds of "I DO" and "Mom, we're moving…again." Even though in their present they will be perhaps heart wrenching, they will still be sounds of life.

Whether joyous or painful, funny or sad, worthy of praise or deserving of discipline, they are all sounds of life.

So, as I laid there today drifting in and out of sleep, I rested well under the sounds of my babes, reminiscing about sounds that have been and looking ahead to sounds that will be…..relishing the sounds that are now and thanking God for what life they bring to my heart.

Squirmy McSquirm…

2008-02-29T19:51:00.001-08:00

Today I took Richie and Avery along while I had my hair done. As most any girl can tell you, having your hair done is a very important day of the month in which you convey your deepest hair desires to your trusted stylist and then sit back for 90 minutes and pray that it all works out in the end. The kids usually go with me and take along their toys. Today was no exception. Except, unlike usual, Richie felt he needed to use my lap as a springboard for all of his activities about the salon. He repeatedly shimmied up onto my lap setting off a choking-hacking sound from me as the cape momentarily cut off my oxygen. Seconds later, he would bound down off to his next adventure which could have been any number of truly important and potentially embarrassing things such as: pilfering through the drawers at the register desk (trying to find the suckers), asking all of the stylists where the trash can was all the while with his chewed up orange gum on the end of his finger, throwing his puzzle pieces underneath the coffee table to see how far they'd slide on the wood floor, asking the stylist for a drink (which he graciously received in the form of a tiny water bottle), and of course singing Hey There Delilah at the top of his lungs when it came on over the sound system…."Ohhhh it's whatcha do da meeeeeee"….can you hear it? I'll say the worst of it was when I moved over for the ever delicate waxing portion of my session. It was then as I laid back in the chair having hot wax rubbed on my forehead and having unruly eyebrow hairs ripped out from my face that Squirmy McSquirm decided to make his boldest move of the day climbing up over the arm of the chair, getting his foot stuck, screaming until I released him without being able to look and then plopped up on my chest and planted a big wet kiss on my chin. I don't know if you've ever been kissed while having your eyebrows waxed….it's kinda hard to concentrate on the moment. But, I'll take 'em when I can get 'em, I suppose!

Nighttime buddies

2008-02-19T08:43:00.001-08:00

Richie has always been one to like things just so-so. His shoes must be double-knotted and the laces must be pointing down otherwise his legs mysteriously stop working. His VeggieTales pillow must be turned with the veggie crew facing up or else he cannot lie down. He never wants a coat regardless of the temperature. He can only ride in the RED booster seat. All the others send him into fits of tears.

However, his list of bedtime needs is getting a little out of control. It used to be just that his veggie pillow was properly adjusted and his Thomas the Train blanket was laid out over him head to toe. No more. In the last few weeks, it's become a bit more intense. The list of MUST HAVE items before he can sleep has grown to include the following:

1 VeggieTales pillow
1 Thomas the Train blanket
2 blue pillows from the couch downstairs
1 white family blanket—note: the white blanket must be put on FIRST before the Thomas blanket
1 Humpkin (Richie's fluffy dog)
1 pink kitty cat (indefinitely borrowed from Big Sis)
1 small pink Care Bear (also borrowed from Big Sis)
1 Lamby (Richie's lamb)
1 red monkey (Valentines gift from Nana)

Last night, he got up at 3:30am to potty. Of course, after relieving himself he could not possibly be expected to return to his own bed. He HAD to come to Mommy and Daddy's bed. I laid there for what must have been 7 minutes and 5 round trips as he dragged every single one of his items into my room and piled them into our bed. After which, he plopped himself right in the middle of us and snoozed away.

Whatever happened to just a simple security blanket?

At the mall with my little buddy…

2008-02-04T18:47:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I took one of my favorite people to the mall with me. Carson joined me for a little trip so that I could take back a pair of shoes I picked up on Spa Day because I decided they were too small. My little partner was quite patient with me as I browsed the sale racks at Dillard's for a bit. For the most part, it was a quiet afternoon. I would ask for his opinion now and then about certain items and he would oblige me to give a "yeah" or "nay." I did pick up a little sale item while we were there and as we were checking out, the sales lady and another older shopper were commenting to each other about how cute Carson was. His eyes, his outfit, his sweet demeanor. I didn't argue. He often receives small praises from strangers like this and I never counter and I never brag. I only agree that he is quite wonderful and leave it at that. But, usually my heart is bursting with pride.

Leaving Dillard's he spotted the gumball station and asked for some money. I didn't have any quarters, so we stopped in J.C. Penney where I changed out a dollar bill. He grabbed the four quarters and I'm sure they were burning a hole in his pocket for the next 20 minutes. It made me happy to provide so much anticipation for him. We made the stop for the shoes and were coming out of American Eagle when we walked right up on a posse of teenage boys who desperately needed their mamas. Their pants were saggy, their hair was greasy, they were rowdy and they all had earphones in. I flashed to the future for a split second and said a prayer that my baby boy would be protected during his teen years. That his heart would stay safe. That his choices would be sound. That his love for God would increase. As we passed the posse, Carson tenderly slipped his little hand inside mine. I nearly melted right there. We proceeded quietly back to the gumball stand his left hand in mine and his right clutching his quarters.

I know the time is coming when he'll no longer hold my hand and quarters and gumballs won't be the highlight of his days. I just pray that even when that time is here he'll remember our sweet times together and that perhaps he'll have a little one of his own who melts his heart the way he does mine.

How NOT to make your girlfriends like you…

2008-02-04T07:20:00.001-08:00

If you're looking for a clever way to lose a girlfriend, I might suggest the following.

Spend Super Bowl Sunday evening lounging on her couch while your kids riot around for three hours eating all her food and dumping crayons and Polly Pockets all over the house. Let your husband jump and yell and fly toward the flat panel television every time there is a good play. Bring a bowl of queso to share and be sure to nuke it about twelve times so that when it's time to do dishes, the queso has become hard as a rock and glues itself to the bowl…then, let your girlfriend wash it. Stay at your girlfriend's house until way past everyone's bedtime and honor her request not to clean up the Polly Pocket explosion. In your mad dash out at 9:30pm, leave your purse (wallet and phone) behind in her coat closet.

THEN!!!!!!!

Next morning, make sure your gas tank is on empty. Then, empty it completely by driving your son to school. Basically, get your self into a situation where you have no phone, no gas, and no money so that you are forced to stop by unannounced at your girlfriend's house at 8:30am.

As you approach, you'll probably feel a bit better knowing that she is at least awake, because you'll see Wow Wow Wubsy going on the TV inside. Ring the bell with confidence.

Wait 2 minutes. When nothing happens, but you can still see Wubsy, ring again.

Wait 2 more minutes. Get desperate and start peering through the beveled glass doorway. When you spot her kids sitting blissfully in front of Wubsy, start waving your arms and yelling sweet stuff like…"Hey, get your mom!" "Open the door, it's MISS CHRISTIE!" "Let me in!" The children will have been told to ignore the bell and let the "FedEx man" leave the package because heaven knows that ONLY the FedEx man would dare to ring the bell at such an hour.

When the small one starts laughing and waving his stick sling shot at you from his comfy spot on the couch, just take a deep breath. He is simply being an obedient child. Even if it had been 9 degrees outside, he has the strength of character to leave you there in honored obedience to his mother.

Ring the door bell again. This time, older sis will spot you and run to get your girlfriend. Thankfully.

When your girlfriend answers the door, apologize profusely. Say nothing of the state in which she answered the door. After all , it is 8:30am, you kept her up late and now you are rudely unannounced. Find your purse and then…

Run!

And, on the way home thank the Lord above that no matter how hard you try to really irritate some friends, they still manage to love you anyway.

Spa day…

2008-02-03T05:24:00.001-08:00

I have the best husband. Yesterday he arranged for me and one of my best friends to have the day out together. This was his Valentine's Day present for me and it was incredible. No, it's not strange that I spent my V-tines Day gift with my girlfriend and not with HIM. We're very secure like that.

My friend Volare and I spent the first glorious free hours shopping at the mall for what we're anticipating to be a FABULOUS upcoming TRIP (more on that later). It was a bit of a whirlwind because two girls cannot really be limited to two hours to shop for an entire trip without there being some mad dashing! I was wishing I had a pair of those wheely shoes the kids wear these days so I could speed around the mall just a wee bit faster. That was, until I saw a kid literally wheel himself right into a post in the middle of the mall and fall down. Painful AND embarrassing….the worst combo.

Volare and I also lunch had lunch together complete with totally grown-up food and conversation and then spent three whole hours being pampered at the spa. Oh, yes….we were pampered. We had the sea spa pedicure, the facial, the aromatherapy bath and massages. You'd think after all that beauty treatment that we'd have walked out of there….well….beautiful. However, after having all our makeup removed, our bodies rubbed hither and yon, spending 30 minutes in a hot tub and having a guy rub massage oil in our hair we were certainly not about to hit the runway. We felt like a couple of wet noodles. Very, very relaxed noodles.

We left there and went to Volare's house where Rich and Ryan had prepared steak dinner with all the fixin's and there was plenty of Godiva chocolate to go around.

It was a SUPERB Valentine's Day gift. Now, I have an entire year to speculate on how my sweetie will try to top it next year. Or, why wait until next year? My birthday is coming up pretty soon! J

The Man Room…

2008-01-31T07:13:00.001-08:00

Those of you who have been to our house are very familiar with our "Man Room." It is so incredibly lacking in any sort of design that it's actually being featured over at Antique Mommy's new Inspired Spaces blog. You can check out her post on our Man Room here.

Actually, I have to take that back. Our Man Room does have design....if you like hunting. And you like seeing the targets of your hunting on your twenty foot long wall....in the form of wood paneling.

I can hardly be in the Man Room without getting an overwhelming urge to shoot something.

When we first toured the house before purchasing it, we knew immediately what that room would be used for....Richard. None of the rest of us wanted to be in there. It's ugly. He doesn't like it either, but somehow he has some inner quality the rest of us lack to be able to endure long hours in such an environment.

Oh, and just for your viewing pleasure, here is the picture of the carpet that Antique Mommy referred to as "yugly." I think you'll agree.

And, I'm officially inviting all of our friends over for a week-long Paneling Painting Party. Doesn't that just sound like a BLAST??? Hey…I would do it for you!

Uh…yeah.

How do you know when your son’s addicted?

2008-01-23T13:11:00.001-08:00

We may have a problem on our hands. I think my son may be addicted to...are you ready for it?....Juicy Fruit gum. It would seem that not only does he love it dearly and ask for it 10 times a day, he'll now throw a kicking, screaming fit when denied. It goes a little something like this:

R: Mom, can I have some Juicy Fruit? Please? Can I? Can I? (Picture a sweet, soft little three-year-old with large pleading eyes, two inches from my face.)

Me: Sweetie, we don't have any gum.

R: Yes we do!

Me: No we don't.

R: (beginning to rifle through my purse) YES! WE! DO!

Me: (with stern, convincing…or maybe not so…mommy face) No, we, don't. I need my purse back please.

R: NO! I NEED GUM!

Me: No you don't.

R: YES I DO.

Me: How about some candy?

R: NO, I NEED GUM. WHHHHAAAAAHHHH. WWWHHHAAAAAAHH. WWWWHAAA. I NEED IT. I NEED GUM!!!!!!

All this while at the eye doctor's office today where I really just needed 45 minutes of peace so that I could get all set up to, you know, SEE for all of 2008. But, he didn't get that, I guess. He would rather have me forego good sight and instead spend my 45 minutes magically producing Juicy Fruit out of the sky. What does he think "we don't have any" means??????? We don't have any. I can't get any. They eye doctor doesn't sell any. You're nuts if you think I'm taking you to Wal Mart to get any while you're raving mad. Even if I could get any, your attitude is SO BAD that you have lost your gum privileges. FOR ALL OF 2008!

I've tried switching to mint gum. No go. It's too "hot." I've tried switching to somewhat fruity tasting sugar-free gum. No go. He spits it out like I've just asked him to eat a worm. The only suitable substitute in the case that the beloved Juicy Fruit is unavailable would be the orange Trident. Sadly, we hadn't a lick of that today either.

I started picturing myself alone with him in a video supervised, locked, all white room with rubber walls while he kicks and flails about the bed coming off of his sugar high which had been induced by Juicy Fruit gum. Can anything be done? Perhaps an intervention is in order. Or maybe we should just go cold turkey. No gum in the house. Oh, sweet. That'll be a real treat.

Everything’s better with ranch…

2008-01-22T16:03:00.001-08:00

What is it about ranch dressing that allows it to turn the most ordinary and mundane raw vegetable into a gloriously delightful snack? What would normally send my kids gagging and hurling toward the trash can suddenly become an object of tasty delight to which they return again and again...thanks to the fine folks at Hidden Valley. My kids can't seem to eat anything without ranch. Carrots, broccoli, chicken, pizza. Whatever it is, it's better with RANCH.

Of course, who am I to judge? I have the same exalted affection for butter. Not margarine. Oh, please! Butter, real salted butter. You could serve me any type of food under the sun and I'd like it better with butter. I've read recently some (probably not so) scientific study citing that butter can actually be good for you. Or, at least it's not as bad as its partially hydrogenated substitutes. That is comforting news. I wish we could say the same for Ranch.

Why I need supervision in the kitchen…

2008-01-21T18:04:00.001-08:00

Until last Saturday our oven had been broken. I wish it had been broken today. Then, I wouldn't have to be dealing with this:

The baking explosion you see above is what happens when one thinks angel food cake pans look like this:

When in all reality, they actually look like this:

Now, the yummy coffee cake which was intended for my girlfriends tomorrow will unfortunately be replaced with something truly inspiring like Trix yogurt and some Honey Nut Cheerios. Luckily, my dear sweet husband is giving his dancing homage and two thumbs up to the remnants which he says are quite tasty.

Blind spot anxiety…

2008-01-20T20:03:00.001-08:00

I've noticed that I have some blind spots—places in my house that are in real need of attention, but after weeks and months of not attending to them, they seem to somewhat blend into the landscape of my life and I forget that they're there. I have little piles here and there. Places that seriously need the touch of someone who has a couple ounces of design sense. Boxes of items still unpacked from our first move (first of four!) seven years ago.

Funny, though, how these blind spots can turn into glaring eyesores the moment I invite friends over. This week, several girls will be visiting my house for the first time and I'm getting some blind spot anxiety. Of particular concern are:

My unfinished paint job in the living area. I did all that I could without the help of a pro or at least a willing friend with a VERY tall ladder. The remaining walls remain white until I rent scaffolding or pay the estimated $800 (yes, I said eight HUNDRED dollars) to have the pro do it.

The foot-long piece of painter's tape that has been stuck on the high ceiling since the aforementioned unfinished paint job in APRIL! I mean, why in heaven's name is that still there? Every time the in-laws come up for a visit, they mention it. I really should get up there and pull it down.

The light hanging over the kitchen table is one of these lovely numbers circa 1998:

That could be bad enough on its own, but picture it with one bulb completely missing and two others burned out. Classy.

Both of my bathrooms have a "sea" motif with coordinating fishy wallpaper that we inherited when we moved in. Again, bad enough on its own, but the downstairs bath has large portions of the sea life peeled off the wall thanks to Richie getting bored during his long hours sitting on the potty.

When we moved in, we had some bad wallpaper removed from the master bedroom. Indecision has led to those walls never being painted since then…it's been 16 months.

I could go on, but you get the picture. I'm tending to stress about these little items only because friends are coming over. I'm not sure which is worse—ignoring these items for months on end, or being superficial enough to get stressed about them when I'm at risk of having friends think lowly of me because of them. Or perhaps the worst is having the low opinion of my friends in assuming that they actually care about these things. Somehow I have plenty of grace to offer my friends if they had, say, mismatched window treatments or wallpaper issues or a house-full of dated fixtures or weeds in their landscaping. But, I'm having trouble believing they'll extend the same grace to me. Perhaps it's because I'm not extending the grace to MYSELF!

Going green….progress!

2008-01-20T14:57:00.001-08:00

Back in July, I bravely admitted my adverse feelings toward environmental friendliness. It's not that I didn't want to be environmentally friendly. I just wanted to do it without having to make any lifestyle changes or put any effort into it at all. Well, it's a new year and new things for me are on the horizon. I decided to call the trash company about recycling. Lo and behold it's not nearly as painful or as expensive as I thought. $1 a month. Jeepers, ONE DOLLAR? I think I can do that. AND the recycle pickup is on the same day as the trash pickup. AND, I don't have to turn my garage into a refuse sorting factory. I simply throw all the recycle-ables into one blue box. Easy. And, it feels right.

We had a family meeting about it last night and talked through with the kids what all types of items go in the blue box. Wouldn't you know it, today I found a glass bottle in the normal trash. Oh, yes I did. The culprit? It wasn't the kids, it was the hubby. I suggested posting a large sign (flashing neon perhaps?) on top of the trash can lid that says something like, "Please look at the item in your hand that you're about to throw away. Is it #1 or #2 plastic? Is it glass? Is it a metal can? Is it a newspaper? If so, get thee to the garage and put it in the blue bin you crazy fool!!!!!" He thought perhaps just a little note that says "Recycle?" would suffice.

Pirates movie…

2008-01-19T19:22:00.001-08:00

Last night we had "family date night" for which we took the kids to see the VeggieTales movie The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. It's a fine little movie however our children spent the entire time with their hands over their ears because it was SO STINKING LOUD or trying to bury their faces into hubby's and my armpits because OH MY GOODNESS, THIS IS SO SCARY! They missed the point of the plot line, clearly. The whole movie is about overcoming your fears. I have a feeling I'll be reinforcing that lesson in the coming nights as they have vivid dreams about creepy veggie pirates. Although, they would do well to learn the lesson from the movie, because waking Mommy at 3:12am citing a bad dream from which one cannot recover may very well turn said bad dream into bad reality in which Mean Mommy sends one directly back to bed where you should not even THINK about getting up until your alarm goes off!

A day of self denial and blessing…

2008-01-17T19:04:00.001-08:00

Hello, my name is Christie and I'm an impulse buyer. Yep. There it is. Name it, claim it and then destroy it. That's the name of my game.

My usual Thursday routine consists of dropping off Number One at school and then finding ways to busy myself (er…empty my pockets) in "town" until Number Two spends an hour learning to tendu later in the morning. (Those of you who live in a very small town near a slightly larger town know that the small town you live in is called "the country, the hills, the sticks, the boonies, etc." and the larger town near you with the big fancy Wal Mart and such is simply called "town." Hence, we go to "town.") Normally this chronic impulse pocket emptying process happens at our first and favorite stop of the day. Target. But, since I've been feeling a nudge to name, claim and destroy the impulse buying, I was listening to my inner voice today.

First, my inner voice told me to return the $80 wall hangings I bought during my recent re-arrange of the living room. I loved them, but didn't really need them. They had been an impulse buy and I felt guilty about it. My inner voice also told me to make a list of the items that I truly needed to buy today and to buy nothing more. Ok, that was going to be hard enough but THEN, while we were driving to Tar-zhay my inner voice had the audacity to suggest that I detour over to Wal Mart instead. Ugh! I recently moved from a town where the only option was Wal Mart and friends, when one has spent four years carting three toddlers around Wal Mart one really appreciates the culture and fashion leap forward that is a larger-town Tar-zhay. So, since there was a Wal Mart near the place where I needed to return the wall hangings, I drove there across town.

It was FREEZING and flurrying today, so we all bundled up and literally skated from the car to the store. In true impulse-buyer-destroyer-fashion, I decided not to even get a cart. Yes, I shopped in Wal Mart sans cart. My reasoning? My list had only three items. I should be able to carry them without the help of the cart. If I didn't have a cart, I couldn't put anything in it! So, off we went. I have to say walking around the store without a cart or stroller or some other large wheeled apparatus was a bit freeing! But, it was very hard resisting the impulse buys. There were several items I longed for as I passed by….baskets for the new shelf in the living room, Clif bars (man, those things are good!), tweezers with a light (genius). I even stopped and gazed at the Rug Doctor rental because our recent furniture re-arrange has brought to light some unsightly places in the floor. But no, I persevered. The only major problem with not having a cart was that I forgot I still had two toddlers with me—neither of which wanted to wear or even CARRY their own coats! AND, somehow one of them managed to carry a gigantic bag of 100 balls (yes, literally) around the store but, no, never, I'll scream if you make me, would not carry his own coat. So, there I was holding my three small items and two coats chasing my kids around the store and trying to pry them with the severest of words and mommy serious face out of the toys. I had no hands, you see. But, I am a victor. I did not impulse buy! And, I got $80 back in my pocket for the return next door.

Now, on to the blessing part of this post. A friend had mentioned to me yesterday that she recently went to story hour at Barnes and Noble. I thought that sounded like a great way to pass our Thursday morning time in town and not spend money. So, this morning, before heading out, I looked up the B&N schedule for our local store. Bummer, today was the wrong day for story hour. I checked the other local bookstore, but couldn't find a schedule. So, after the Wal Mart stop and the return, I decided to take the kids over to the other bookstore just for kicks. Would you believe that we arrived exactly at 10am and that it was STORY HOUR DAY??? Not only did the kids get three stories, they also did crafts and had a snack. FREE. J

I'll chalk that up to a Divine blessing and a small "at a girl" for my successful morning.

Sweet, quiet moments...

2008-01-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I spent a quiet hour in the afternoon under our favorite “family blanket” and read a good book a friend had given to me. This was one small attempt to enjoy the Jan/Feb that I traditionally loathe but newly want to embrace. All was quiet in the house with the two littlest ones down for their afternoon rest. I shortly drifted off into sleep and was awakened by sweet Richie who had entered the living room and tapped on my foot. His big eyes puffy from his sleep, he was dressed in his favorite sleeping attire—Spiderman underwear and socks, nothing more. He loves the family blanket. We purchased it last spring when Carson and I were at T.J. Maxx and looking for snuggly blankets for around the house. Carson picked out a white one. It’s huge so all three of the children and I can snuggle comfortably under it together without anyone’s feet sticking out or without the ones on the outsides playing tug-o-war to get their fair share of the warmth. And, it’s the softest blanket in the world, I’m quite sure. Richie asked if he could get under the blanket with me and of course, I said yes. We sat there together in the big brown chair under the family blanket for what must have been 20 minutes. Neither of us talked. I thought as he sat there how big he was with his head resting on my shoulder and his socked feet dangling off the seat. Just yesterday it seems he was tiny enough to fit within the crook of my arm. I sniffed his hair and felt the softness of it on my face and prayed that the scent would be burned into my memory so that when he is grown and gone (or perhaps when he is just 14 and no longer wants his mommy sniffing his hair!) that I would be able to remember. He sucked his thumb on one hand while we sat and with the other he gently played with my fingers and I returned the sweet gesture. We traded soft little hand caresses for awhile. I know his likes his arms scratched. Not the hard fast scratch meant to fight off an itch, but the slow light-touch scratch that brings a welcome tingle. So, I scratched his arms a bit and as I did, he snuggled in closer to my lap. There was still not a word from either of us. To him it was probably just a little short-lived post-nap lazy period for he was soon up, dancing in his underwear and asking me for a bowl of pretzels. But, to me it was precious. A moment I felt worthy of writing down. A tiny slice of my life that I hope rises to the top of my memory bank when I am old and gray.

Jan/Feb…not my favorites…

2008-01-10T21:44:00.001-08:00

It's the 10^th of January and just today I took down the Christmas tree. There's nothing like a little procrastination to start off the New Year! I have never really liked winter, so I think subconsciously I am trying to extend the jolly Christmas season into my most dreaded time of the year. I like it somewhat in December when it's not freeze-your-fingers-off cold outside and the promise of snow adds all the more delightful anticipation to Christmas. I love a brisk stroll two steps out the front door to pick up my internet shopping gifts. I love hot chocolate, warm fires and snow. Cold is acceptable in December.

However, Cold becomes hideous in January. It's almost as if when the Christmas tree comes down, that's nature's signal to drop it 20 degrees and let the sickness bugs run rampant. I really can't think of anything redeemable about January and February. It's just stinkin' cold for no stinkin' reason and we generally end up with some sort of nasty family bug. They are to me the dreadful 8 weeks I must endure until the glorious Spring begins to break forth. So I delay in taking down the Christmas tree…until mid-January when I finally surrender to winter.

However, before we all start to drown in the Winter Blues thanks to my cheery New Year Report, please let me say that I have been feeling Holy Spirit-style convicted about my hatred of Jan/Feb. I mean, God created this season just like all the others, right? So, there MUST be something in which to rejoice. So, indulge me a little self-help talk here for a minute.

Richie was born in January, so in that we can rejoice! (Nevermind that two weeks after he was born our entire family had the stomach flu….hence one more reason to hate Jan/Feb and fear what illness they may bring. But, we're not thinking about that now!)
Today as I was driving, the clouds were full with rain and were an enchanting shade of dark blue. I noticed that the leafless trees looked so beautiful up against that blue sky and had there actually been leaves on the trees, I would have missed that sight. I actually gave audible thanks to the Creator when I saw it. Winter scenery can be breathtaking.
Taking down all of the Christmas decorations affords me a rare opportunity to re-arrange and re-decorate our living spaces. That is fun! I pushed all of the furniture around in our living room today. Not only is the change refreshing, I found $2.71 behind the couch and some socks we had been missing since Summer!
Ok, I was on a roll and now, I'm stuck. I can't think of a fourth reason to appreciate Jan/Feb. But, three is pretty good and it's three more than I had last Jan/Feb!

Clearly, I could use a little encouragement!

A piece of her mind…

2008-01-09T15:10:00.001-08:00

Avery has had a lot on her mind today:

7:30am - "Mom, I promise I didn't pick my nose and put these boogers in my eye. How did they get there?"

4:20pm - "Mom, when I die and go to heaven, can I take these with me?" -holding up a handful of candy canes from the Christmas tree which I'm finally TODAY taking down. "No, you can't take them." "Why not? There isn't candy in heaven?" "No, they have other, better stuff." "Better than CANDY CANES???"

5:02pm - "What is this, a WIPES MAGAZINE???? (rolling her eyes) That's crazy." - sorting through the day's mail and coming across a Huggies coupon book.

A piece of her mind....

2008-01-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

Avery has had a lot on her mind today:

7:30am - "Mom, I promise I didn't pick my nose and put these boogers in my eye. How did they get there?"

3:00pm - "Mom, when I die and go to heaven, can I take these with me?" -holding up a handful of candy canes from the Christmas tree which I'm finally TODAY taking down. "No, you can't take them." "Why not? They don't have candy in heaven?" "No, they have other, better stuff." "Better than CANDY CANES???"

5:02pm - "What is this, a WIPES MAGAZINE???? That's crazy." - sorting through the day's mail and coming across a Huggies coupon book.

Richie put his WHAT in the WHERE???

2008-01-05T06:30:00.001-08:00

(At 7am on Saturday.)

Carson: "MOM!! Richie dropped his NUN CHUNK in the TOILET!"

Stranger words have never awakened me from a dead sleep.

Except maybe the time in college when the RA banged on my door during what I thought was a fire drill and yelled "Get up! The doors are on fire!"

Or, maybe the year that I was the RA and one of the little freshmen on my floor woke me up at 3am with a "Christie, my roommate's drunk and I'm not sure she's breathing! What should I do?" What the heck do I know? No, that's not really what I said. But, it is what I WANTED to say, followed by a lengthy lecture on all the dangers of underage drinking.

Ah…fond memories. Anyway…back to the nun chunk…. Yes, all of the kids call it a nun CHUNK and they're referring to the nun chuck attachment for their Nintendo Wii.

(Startled out of my warm, peaceful sleep….)

Me: "Well, GET IT OUT!! NOW!!!"

(Two minutes later, in a very matter of fact tone, as if this sort of thing happens every day. And, actually, it does.)

Avery: "Mom, I got the nun chunk out of the toilet and cleaned it off."

Me: "Great, good job, wonderful."

Now I can't go back to sleep because I'm wondering what else was in the toilet when Avery so boldly retrieved it.

I'm also wondering under what circumstances exactly Richie managed to drop the nun chuck in the toilet in the first place. Oh, wait, a moment of clarity…just now at breakfast while I'm writing this he asked if he could eat his yogurt with his controller ON. I'm guessing he dropped it while attempting this.

Binge and purge…

2008-01-02T19:49:00.001-08:00

Yes, that's a totally disgusting title. Sorry. But, it's what has been happening here in our home since Christmas. And, I'm not talking about lunch. I'm talking about TOYS. Semi-annually, I have the great joy of sorting through all of the children's toys. Keep in mind that our children have two ENTIRE ROOMS of the house completely to themselves. Not only this, but they have also taken over corners of four other rooms of our house with all their little trinkets. Add to this that every Christmas each of my three children receives gifts from about 10 different groups of people and some of these 10 give more than one gift. Add to this that my son's birthday is 2 days after Christmas, so he gets another 10 sets of gifts. Within a matter of 3 days, our home goes from to Toymania to a stinkin' Toysapalooza!

Much like that show on TLC, my typical purge procedure is to create three big piles; Keep, Trash, and Donate. I'm also compelled to make a fourth temporary pile containing pieces of toys that I KNOW belong to other pieces of the same toy….I just have to find them!

The Keep pile is exactly what you think it might be. Of course, it includes everything most recently received this Christmas. It also includes anything that the kids still enjoy OR items that I would have deemed Donate or Trash except that their loving owners rescued from Mommy's cold calloused hands as they were being banished into THE PILE. This is why I make every effort to do this work in SECRET.

Now, the TRASH this time around was insane. I finished the purge this morning and I ended up with 4 large trash bags full of…..yes, trash. We're not really trashy people, it just builds up. Lost puzzle pieces. Miscellaneous Legos. CD cases with no cds. Broken this-es and that-s. McDonald's toys from 2004. Why do we still have those and why did I pay $3.50 for it in the first place? Trash also includes any toys or books that have been so loved and so used up that they're no good to anyone anymore. That's when you know a toy is really loved.

The DONATE pile is the hardest one for me. Strangely enough, I do get attached to some of these toys. I have memories of the kids playing with certain items and as they outgrow them, it reminds me of how much they are growing up and changing. I keep anything particularly special, but I can't keep it all. So, we give most things outgrown but still in good working order, to families in need.

This year however I've done something a little different. I've started saving back a few toys for the future. I'm already secretly planning for grandchildren so I'm building a little stash of some of our favorite toys that I think will pass the test of time. I have these little fantasy glimpses of little ones coming over to grandma's (MY) house to play and getting out some of the old toys that Mommy and Daddy used to have. Some of my secret keepers this time include the wooden shape sorter, Miss Spider's Sunny Patch mama and baby bugs, the magnetic stacking choo choo train. There are others, too. And, I'm sure there will be more added to that collection over the next few years. In all the madness of out-with-the-old and in-with-the-new, I think it'll give me a little sanity—a little something to hold on to as my children's live race by before my eyes. A bit of hope for the future that one day, there will be new Little Ones and that I'll get to re-live a bit of this God-graced journey again with the next generation.

Until then, I'll remember that the best memories of toys are the ones the kids and I make playing together. And that even as toys come and go, the memories are the real treasures.

Thanks to everyone who bought toys for our precious kids this Christmas. Your contribution to happy times in our home is priceless!

Reflecting on the year…

2007-12-31T21:52:00.001-08:00

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....

2007-12-30T21:33:00.001-08:00

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!

Update for Facebook-ers

2007-12-30T21:32:00.000-08:00

My posts are put up in Blogspot. If you're reading this in Facebook, I'm changing my feed to "short" feed. You'll want to click on "View Original Post" to get the whole thing.

Tribute for Grandpa....

2007-12-24T14:03:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-12-24T06:46:00.000-08:00

"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!

2007-12-16T13:49:00.001-08:00

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?

2007-12-15T20:26:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-12-14T20:44:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-12-13T11:33:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-12-11T13:22:00.000-08:00

....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...

2007-12-09T18:35:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-12-03T16:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2007-12-03T09:47:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-11-26T12:03:00.001-08:00

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...

2007-11-24T19:34:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-11-21T11:06:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-11-07T14:51:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-11-02T12:02:00.001-07:00

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...

2007-10-26T05:52:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-09-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-09-10T14:35:00.001-07:00

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...

2007-09-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-09-01T21:02:00.001-07:00

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...

2007-08-12T14:38:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-08-09T07:18:00.001-07:00

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!

2007-08-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-07-22T20:02:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-07-12T19:46:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-07-10T20:26:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-07-08T21:18:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-07-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

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)

Peace out.
Keep it real.
If you don't know, you betta ask somebody.
Have a snack and holla back.
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...

2007-07-03T20:33:00.001-07:00

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...

2007-06-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-06-20T12:40:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-06-14T07:01:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-06-11T13:45:00.001-07:00

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...

2007-06-03T20:05:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-05-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-05-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

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.