34...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

…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...

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...

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…

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…

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.

1. glidr and pate
   
2. dol hows
   
3. clingn up
   
4. playing prises
   
5. playing with stufys
   
6. woching a moofy
   
7. dasing to musike
   
8. 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.

1. Glitter and paint
   
2. Doll house
   
3. Clean up
   
4. Playing princess
   
5. Playing with stuffed animals
   
6. Watching a movie
   
7. Dancing to music
   
8. 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…?

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…?

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…

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)

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…

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?

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:

1. "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? "
   
2. "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?
   
3. 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…

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.

1. 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!
   

   
   

2. All of my children were born on Thursdays. Maybe just a coincidence, but special to me!
   
3. 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.
   

4. My dream job would be teaching. I taught two semesters at a local university a few years ago. Loved it.
   
5. Ironically, my nightmare job would be home-schooling.
   
6. 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…

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…

…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…

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.