The van...

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

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

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

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

Going green...

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

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

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

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

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

My baby....

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

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

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

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

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

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

My flute...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family creed...

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

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

Browne Family Creed (1st edition)

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

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

Maybe we're not too off course after all?

Shoes...

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

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