Plain Ole Joe

I don't care about most of the quizzes I see out there in cyberspace.

I don't really want to know what kind of holiday I am (whatever that means). I have no need to discover the exact date of my demise (yes, I really saw that one). And there's no way I need a quiz to confirm that, yes, I'm a hypochondriac (it's a trait I inherited from my late grandmother, so I cherish it).

But sometimes, one will catch my attention.

Here's one for you fellow java enthusiasts.

You Are a Plain Ole Cup of Joe

But don't think plain - instead think, uncomplicated You're a low maintenance kind of girl... who can hang with the guys Down to earth, easy going, and fun! Yup, that's you: the friend everyone invites. And you're dependable too. Both for a laugh and a sympathetic ear.

What Kind of Coffee Girl Are You?

Anyone care to share what kind of coffee drinker you are?

A Fish Update

Late yesterday afternoon I went to the tank to scoop the dead fish into a ziploc so I could tote it to PetSmart for a switcheroo for a live one. However, I couldn't find it anywhere. I even had Spencer and Allison searching. I put the net into the tank to stir up some water, hoping the body would swirl around a bit and I'd see it. Some junk was stirred up, but no fish body.

I looked suspiciously at the mean Molly fishes. They looked guilty. I just knew the little cannibals had eaten that poor dead fish.

Doggone it! Now I had no proof that a fish had died. No floater to redeem for a live one.

I figured I'd scoop out some water, have PetSmart test it to make sure all was well on that end, and plead my case. Surely a well-to-do corporation like PetSmart would take my word for it when I explained. I can't be held responsible for the actions of hungry, vicious Molly fish. Certainly they wouldn't, in effect, insinuate that I'd lie over a fish that cost $1.99.

Actually, that's exactly what they did. No body; No exchange.

I know it's just two bucks, but it's the principle. If I were a liar, I'd go for bigger booty than a stinkin' fish.

I decided to let it go, and to do so quietly, even if a bit grudgingly.

I ended up talking for 20 minutes to a very knowledgeable employee there who said I probably just stocked the tank too quickly. He gave me all kinds of good advice. And he confirmed that Mollys are a cantankerous fish. I just knew it!

The best part?

This morning I was getting ready to feed the fish, and I noticed something stuck to the tube that goes from the tank to the filter, circulating water. It was the body of our dead fish.

Is it wrong to be happy about that?

I like to think it was God's way of rewarding me for hushing my mouth when they told me they wouldn't give me a new fish without my dead fish as proof.

In a few days, I'm going back to PetSmart to buy two red Platy fishes.

They're only $1.49 apiece. And they play well with other fish, too.

Done Deal

It's been more than two weeks since we started putting the yucky-tasting Hoof polish on Allison's thumbs to help her stop sucking her thumb. I've been suspicious from the beginning as to whether she was really stopping or not.

This probably comes from all the sneakiness I perpetrated against my own parents in their quest to stop my thumb-sucking days. I can't remember all they tried, but I vividly recall having hot sauce coated on my thumbs so the burning taste would make me stop. I can also remember going to the bathroom as soon as the folks weren't watching and washing my thumbs as best I could, then sucking away. It would burn for the first minute, but it was still worth it to me.

The nail in the coffin for me, though, was when my mom read a story out of a German newspaper, telling about a man in his 30's who still sucked his thumb, and his wife divorced him over it. Cold turkey was my motto then, and I never sucked my thumb again.

Still, we've not caught Allison since we started this. And there have been several nights during that time that she's awakened me after having a nightmare. (I don't let the kids climb in our bed unless it's close to morning. It just makes for bad rest for the duration, and Bruce has to get up in the morning for work. Instead, I climb in their beds and usually wake up a couple hours later to go back to our room.) I thought if Allison were going to suck her thumb on the sly, she'd be more likely to do it when she's half-conscious and seeking some comfort from a bad dream. But she never did.

Last night we celebrated by going to O'Charley's again. Same place we celebrated Spencer's liberation from the cloth a few weeks ago. We don't eat out often, but when we do, we tend to go to places that work well with the kids. Unless it's date night.

We're still painting Hoof on Allison's thumbs, but not as diligently as we were when we started. I persist largely because the instructions on the bottle suggest continuing for three months to be sure the habit is truly kicked.

She's pretty proud of herself. We are, too. Just one more hurdle overcome before they start kindergarten in the fall.

Already on a Losing Streak... Again!

It's been a couple months since we acquired seven goldfish at our church's Halloween alternative Fall Festival. Within two weeks, all seven went belly-up and took the long journey from potty to septic system.

Holidays were around the corner. We knew we'd be coming and going constantly. Replacing the fish was put on hold.

Last week, Bruce put his foot down with the following command: "Get some new fish for the tank, or get rid of the tank."

I'm a good, Southern Baptist wife, so I replied with my usual submissive nature.

"Yes, Master."

Oh, it was in good fun. And it's an ongoing joke with us that's been around since before we were married. Evidently, before we even met, Bruce told his mother that when he got married his wife would be his "beast" and he would be the "master". He was young. How could he possibly have known what was waiting for him?

I digress!

Knowing that we'd be having company that weekend, and that an empty fishtank would create "talk" (of our sanity probably), I took Spencer and Allison to PetSmart after dropping Clay off at school.

We picked two silver Mollys, and three neon Tetras. We decided to try tropical fish this time, hoping for greater longevity.

The Mollys are Spencer and Allison's. They've struggled with names. Allison wavers between Angel Cake and Princess. Spencer is equally passionate about the names Lightning and Yellow Stripe, because his fish has a faint yellow strip down its back. (He's a mean fish, too. He chases Allison's fish and the littler ones all the time.)

The Tetras are Clay's. I'm not sure if he's named them yet.

And he might want to wait.

The scourge of death has struck again. The smallest Tetra was floating aimlessly this morning.

In case you aren't aware, PetSmart offers a guarantee. If your fish die within two weeks of purchase, you can take in your receipt and exchange your dead fish for a new one.

I'm really hoping that tonight's trip to PetSmart will be the last for awhile. But if it isn't, I may have a "good as new" fish tank to get rid of soon. Because I don't like them enough for a third attempt at keeping fish as pets.

Here's a couple pictures Bruce took, obviously before the demise of Tetra Tres (He has to have a name before the flusing ceremony. It seems like the decent thing to do).

Laughing 'til Your Sides Hurt

Last night I did something just for me, and it was wonderful. I met with a group of friends to eat dinner at Damon's, and we laughed ourselves silly.

We moms try to do something together every couple months, but sometimes it takes a little longer to get our calendars coordinated.

Before school started in the fall, we went shopping in Pigeon Forge. Then in September we met at Perkins very early one morning for breakfast before we all had to head out to different sporting events our kids were involved with. Last night was the first time since then that we'd gotten together. Just us six moms, with nobody's food to cut but our own.

The group of ladies who come varies, depending on who can get away from work/family committments each time. We rarely tackle any serious subjects. (One highlight from the Pigeon Forge trip was an in-depth discussion on mullet haircuts that JoElla instigated. Last night, we cracked eachother up discussing how our bodies change with age and pregnancies. I'm pretty sure we scared Sharon, who joined us for the first time. She's about a decade younger than many of us.) And even though we're all friends from church, other than praying before we eat, we aren't being overtly spiritual.

It's just a good, ol' fashioned, stress-relieving laugh festival. By the time we get home, we're happier moms and wives. We appreciate that we aren't the only ones who aren't perfect, whose kids aren't perfect, whose husbands aren't perfect, whose lives aren't perfect. But we can laugh about it.

For the record, we aren't there bad-mouthing our husbands. They come up in conversation because we love them, but they sometimes drive us a little batty. Still, we don't dish out trash talk on them. That's never on the menu. (Besides, without them staying home with the kids and taking care of meals, showers and homework, we'd never be able to get together for "just mom" time.)

The kids are a different thing altogether though. With them, we share the good, the bad and the ugly. And we crack up. Because, let's face it, the littlest ones in our lives are fodder for laughter.

Whirlwind Weekend

We are all so tired after having a wild weekend.

Friday night, Bruce took Clay along with him on a church youth trip to Knoxville to see the Ice Bears play hockey (Bruce was a chaperone). Clay's buddies Ben and Tyler went as well. Bruce said he actually did very little with Clay once in Knoxville because Clay was chillin' with his buds. They got home after midnight.

Saturday, Bruce took Spencer along to Clay's Upwards basketball game while Allison and I stayed home and cleaned house. We were having company that night and had big plans for the kids.

Our youth minister, Kurt, and his family came over, along with our friends, the Heltons. Kurt and his wife Bicki are waiting for their third child to be born... any day now. They have a daughter named Hailey who is in the Sunday school class that I teach with JoElla. And their son is Clay's friend, Ben. The Heltons (JoElla and David) have two kiddos: Lydia is Clay's age, and Heath is Spencer and Allison's age.

I made several crock pots of soup, and a cheese dip to go along with some chips, and JoElla brought a salad and her specialty - chocolate cake with chocolate chips. We all ate good.

The kids were then supposed to watch a movie I rented called "The Game Plan"; however, they actually spent more time bouncing back and forth between their rooms upstairs, the den and the downstair's playroom. It was a mad house, but they had fun.

We adults played Bible Baseball. That is one challenging game. Bruce thought he was so smart to suggest that we play girls against guys. Hailey played with JoElla, Bicki and me, and she pretty much ensured our victory. Oh yeah!

When it was time for everyone to head home, Ben and Heath stayed the night here, and Allison went with Lydia to the Helton's house. It was Ben's first time to sleep over here. Clay has had lots of sleepovers, but neither of the twins have. Poor Spencer is the epitome of a tag-along, following Clay and his friends so much it drives them nuts. So Spencer was allowed to invite Heath to sleep over, and it was his first sleepover as well, with anyone but David and JoElla's family.

When everyone was leaving, JoElla and I joked that it could be a long night if either Heath or Allson reneged, and we could conceivably see eachother twice more between then and church the next morning.

But everyone did great. Only a couple itty bitty hitches. Spencer cried after he realized that he didn't say goodbye to Lydia or Allison. He ended up sleeping with a picture of Allison to calm him down. (Never in a million years would I have guessed that he would be the one to cling to her. Vice versa? Yes, that I could see. But Spencer? He just loves his siblings so much!)

Sunday morning as I was getting out of the shower, there was a knock at the bathroom door, and I asked who was there. Here's the rely I got: "It's Spencer. Where's Heath? I can't find him anywhere."

I paused. I panicked. I thought to myself, "Ohmygoodness, I've lost my friend's child!" But those words didn't come out of my mouth. These did: "Wake your daddy up right now!"

The night before, all four boys had decided to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor in the playroom. After Bruce got up, he looked first in Spencer's room, thinking Heath may have woken up first and gone to Spencer's room to play. When Bruce and Spencer got all the way downstairs to the playroom and had searched the whole house, they found Heath. Curled up a little deeper into his sleeping bag than Spencer could at first see. But the other boys all slept through our little bit of hoopla, thankfully.

At church the next day, JoElla and I swapped stories.

Evidently Allison was wired as tight as could be when she got to their house, with all the new toys for her to investigate. Finally, after midnight, JoElla said it was time for bed. Allison said she wanted to go home. I had already told JoElla that if she did that, she would be very easy to re-direct, and that proved to be true. JoElla had the girls sleep in sleeping bags in her den, but told Allison she'd sleep down there with them so she wouldn't get scared. We're all pretty sure that JoElla fell asleep before Allison did.

At one point, Lydia told David and JoElla, "I think Allison is nocturnal."

That is so funny to me. Allison is our best sleeper, and usually is out long before the boys, and then sleeps later as well.

Sunday, we only went to Sunday school and skipped the morning service to drive to Knoxville to see baby Ava. Here are a few pictures. (I didn't hold Ava because I have a cold. Allison did not want to hold her. She has never been as big on babies as her brothers. My kids are strange!)

First up, my sweet hubby. This is the guy I fell in love with. He gravitates to babies, and the first time I saw that, I was hooked.





Spencer had been looking forward to holding Ava from the first morning I told him about her birth (he takes after his daddy!). A little crying on her part didn't phase him one bit.



This next picture is of Clay and Ava's hands. He was completely captivated with how small her fingers were inside his.



When we piled in the van to go home, Spencer said what a sad day it was. I said, "Sad? How could it be sad? We got to see Uncle Bryan, Aunt Alondra, Madison, Colin, Joshua and baby Ava?" Spencer said, "Well, I just wish I was their son." I chuckled a little and said, "Really? Why is that?" And he said, "Because that baby is just so sweet."

There has never been a little fella more perfectly suited to being a big brother. And still, there's never been less a likelihood for that to happen than in our family.

On a completely different topic, our family is impatient to go camping again, and the closest I can get to that right now is planning our summer vacation. We're going to the Outer Banks in North Carolina to camp at the beach. We haven't been to the beach in years, and we've never been to the Outer Banks area.

I'm hoping it'll be less crowded than Myrtle Beach, which is where we usually go. This is going to be the first beach vacation that we've taken during peak season. We usually go after school has started, but all three will be in school next year, and we just pulled Clay out before Christmas to go to Disneyworld. I don't want to make a habit of that.

This summer, we're working vacation around Bruce's school schedule. He finishes his MBA in August.

Oh, August, how I love thee... let me count the ways!!

Who is He to You?

I already posted today on a computer-generated test that guessed what kind of writer I should be. This is the kind of singer I'd like to be.

Mark Schultz is one of my favorite artists. He was a youth pastor at a church in Nashville when he first started in the music industry. Bruce and I saw him in concert years ago in Bristol when he opened for Avalon, and he was fantastic. While onstage, he ad-libbed one of his more popular songs and made the lyrics hysterical. In our eyes, he stole the show from Avalon.

I'm Hilarious

I was on the blog site of a writer, whose blog site I found via the blog of one of my favorite writers. (I can't remember which one. I have roughly 15 favorite writers whose blogs I check out regularly. I read A LOT. And one of these days when I grow up... or when the kids grow up, whichever comes first... I may decide to write a book, or go back to newspaper writing, or find some other creative outlet for all my wordiness that doesn't include bending my poor spouse's ear off.)

Anyway, she shared the results of a writer's quiz that she had taken online. Of course I had to click on over and take the test myself. I'm not sure I agree with the results, but it made me laugh, because I am always telling Bruce one of my favorite phrases: I crack myself up. I say it in jest, because the phrase alone gets me going on a giggle fest.

So here are my writer's results:

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life... You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material. You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Now, go on. Take the test yourself and let me know your results. Just click the comments button below and share.

Close Call

A new Moody made her appearance very early this morning... and her parents almost got to experience a home birth, according to Sharon.

Bryan and Alondra were a couple days past the baby's due date, so induction was scheduled for this morning. Bruce's parents went to their house late yesterday afternoon to watch the older three kids during the induction.

But around midnight Bryan woke Sharon and said it was time. Bryan's parking ticket at the hospital is stamped at 12:50 a.m. Ava Katherine Moody was born at 1:45 a.m. She didn't even wait for a doctor to be present.

Ava weighs 8 pounds, 2 ounces; and she's 21 inches long.

Everyone is healthy, and Alondra is probably already eager to get home.

When I told Spencer this morning that his newest cousin was born while he was sleeping, I said, "Aunt Alondra had her baby last night. Her name is Ava." He said, "Ava, the girl?" And I said, "Yes, Ava is a girl." He smiled really sweetly and said, "Oh, I love babies. I can't wait to see her. The next time we see them I'll probably want to play with Joshua and Ava."

Joshua has been "the baby" for the last two years.

We're hoping to see them all this Sunday.

My Meez

See my mini-me over there to the left?

I've seen these little characters on blogs belonging to some friends, so I thought I'd try one. However, I am not computer savvy. This becomes more and more apparent to me on a regular basis. I just couldn't get that girl to show up in the right place, be the right size and not be washed out. (Okay, that sounds like a very good description of how I feel about the real me on some days!)

I usually ask Bruce for computer help, but I have discovered the hidden talents of a friend from church. When I ask Bruce for help, one or both of us ends up frustrated because we're on the phone, he's giving directions, I'm following to the best of my ability, (which is rarely to his "computer nerd" satisfaction), but for some reason we're never exactly on the same page.

Now, Nicole... she gets me. She knows I'm not bright in this area of expertise, yet she figures out how to lead me through stuff, and she often does it via e-mail only.

My "meez" girl appears courtesy of Nicole and her computer and communication skills.

Funny Girl

Okay, this is a record for me. Three posts in one day. But I could not let this one slip by.

I was posting the previous entry like a mad woman when the cries for food began. I checked the clock and realized it was supper time. I looked at Bruce and said, "I can make a homemade pizza, or we can order one." And because he is such a good man, he said, "Let's order one."

Allison started jumping up and down from excitement. Trust me... it's not like ordering a pizza is a rarity in our house either. She finally got over her tizzy enough to talk and said, "Let's get one from that checkers place."

My first thought was that burger joint called Checkers that was torn down a couple years ago. But that didn't make sense. It only had burgers, not pizza, and we'd only been there once. There was no way she remembered that.

So then, because I am not always one to pick up on the obvious, I started searching my memory for any place that we've ever eaten pizza that had a checkerboard tiled floor. I drew a complete blank.

And then the lightning bolt hit.

"Allison, are you talking about Domino's?"

Yep, she wanted Domino's pizza; not to be confused with Checker's pizza.

I laughed so hard, I hurt her feelings and had to explain and apologize (please see today's previous entry about sensitivity!).

Upwards Basketball

Upwards basketball started at our church last Saturday. Clay has looked forward to this for some time, but as Spencer noted last week after watching a bit, Clay needed to get his head in the game. (This comment was of course followed by a little singing, courtesy of the tune from "High School Musical", which our kids really enjoy watching. Spencer and Allison sing songs from that movie constantly.)

Before each game, the players pray. This is my favorite shot of all that Bruce has taken so far.



Our youth pastor, Kurt, is one of Clay's coaches and stands on the far left. Clay is in the blue in the front near him. And Kurt's hand is resting on his son Ben's back. I've mentioned here before that Clay and Ben have formed a fun friendship. They've enjoyed a couple play times together, and we're hoping that Ben will come for a sleepover this next week, but only if his baby brother isn't born that day.

Clay had a lot of "throw ins" last week. Sadly, I know nothing about basketball, and had to ask him just now how I should word that correctly. In the picture below, he's throwing one in, but I like to call the shot "How many Moodys can we fit in one frame?" First, on the left there's Bruce's uncle Gene, then his dad Roy, and his cousin John (who has the big job of organizing Upwards at our church). Spencer and I are even hiding there behind the hoop.



Last year, Clay was on the same team with both his buddies, Tyler and Nick. This year, all three of them are on opposing teams. Last week, he and Tyler played against eachother. In the picture below, Clay is on the far right and Tyler is the blonde nearest him.



This week, Clay and Nick played against eachother. I think the boys enjoyed playing as oppponents as much as they liked being teammates. Whenever they were paired up to guard against eachother, it was so fun to watch. They'd run around like crazy. Boys!!

Tyler's parents, our good friends Danny and Carolyn, each coach an Upwards team. Danny coaches Tyler's, and Carolyn coaches their daughter Taylor's. But when Clay played them last week, Danny was out of town so Carolyn filled in for him. She's a "pro" basketball player, having played in high school. She was firing out commands to Clay during the whole game.



What's so great about Carolyn is that when Clay would shoot, she'd look so hopeful, as if he were her own son. You'll see what I mean in the picture below. My kids love her. And she's been a great friend to me.



The next pictures were taken from today. He had his jersey reversed to gold for this game. When each kid enters the court, they play music, blow smoke and announce their name. Those kids are stars!



Clay was much more into the game this week than last week. Here he is guarding a boy named Joseph, who was in scouts with him last year.



And even when he was on the bench, Clay was pretty gung-ho, cheering on his teammates.



One final picture from today.

Being Sensitive vs. Silly: a Study of Contrast

Ahh, Spencer. My sensitive child.

When I say that, you have to understand that to use the word "sensitive" on any Moody man in our household is nearly miraculous. I constantly tell my mother-in-law that I married the least sensitive of her sons. This is not news to her.

Clay mimics his dad. If there were a Richter scale for sensitivity, Bruce and Clay would fall toward the very low end. Between a 2 to 2.9, where it's defined as "generally not felt, but recorded."

And I'm okay with that. Actually, it's a good thing, because truth be told, with Allison being overly sensitive, I'm coming to realize that we have enough of that trait in our house. For the record, Allison's Richter score would probably be around 7 to 7.9 where it "can cause serious damage over larger areas."

Spencer is a nice blend. A good amount of sensitivity to others, without taking everything so personal and getting in a twist.

Allison has been having nightmares. Often enough that on Thursday night, she begged to have Spencer sleep with her. (They've done this a lot since Clay's birthday last June, when we very unwisely let both of the younger ones watch "E.T." To this day, Allison does not like to talk about "E.T." I think simply because he was wrinkly, which in her mind translated to ugly. Hate to see her reaction when she looks in the mirror in another 50 years.) In any case, we cut out the sleeping together a couple weeks ago because there was more playing going on than sleeping. And then we'd have grouch-galore in the house the next day.

But she was simply pitiful. Big tears. Quivering lip. I'm pretty immune to her tears because they come so easily, but the quivering lip... that's a nice touch. It works on me.

Bruce was at school late that night, so while me and the kids were driving home from Clay's Upwards basketball practice, I caved. Sort of. I said they could sleep together, but the light would be off as soon as I kissed them goodnight. No lamp. Just the nightlight. And any playing past that point would result in Spencer being moved back to his own room.

At bedtime, my boys rallied to Allison's aid. She started crying and insisting that she knew she would have another nightmare. Finally, I just said it was time to say our prayers. I mean, really, we can't talk her out of it when she's that distraught. We just try to ignore it and move on.

First, Spencer prayed for her. It really touched me. Completely unprompted, he asked God to keep Allison's mind "clean" that night so she could sleep with no nightmares. He went on to say the same thing over and over a couple times, a little differently each time (He gets that from me, and it makes Bruce crazy!). And then he said, "God, don't let her down."

At Clay's turn, he, too, petitioned the Lord on Allison's behalf. He tacked on that he knew God wouldn't let Allison down. There's that big brother mode that's so hard to turn off... always setting the record straight and correcting all misconceptions.

On a completely different note, Spencer brought tears to our eyes last night, but not for his sensitivity. He is just a nut sometimes.

All three kids were having a sleepover in Clay's room, complete with sleeping bags. Bruce and I were trying to watch a movie, but the kids kept coming down. When I thought they were finally done, I opened a bag of Cheetos for Bruce and me to munch on.

It was very late when Spencer made the last trip down to complain that Allison was talking too much and keeping him awake. His eyes zeroed in on the bag of Cheetos, and he asked if he could have some. I said, "Yes, tomorrow."

He smiled a completely beguiling smile as he sauntered over to the couch where I sat next to the bag of chips. He picked up the bag, and I thought, "No way is he going to flat out disobey me and grab a chip while within bottom-smacking distance." I was prepared to pop him a good one.

He raised the bag to face level and wrapped the opening edges around his nose and mouth, like people do to breathe in a bag to prevent hyperventilating. And he deeply inhaled the smell of the Cheetos. (This was no small sniff. He breathed like a man coming up for air following a near drowning.) And then, he let it back out. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Followed by a very satisfied smile.

Bruce and I completely lost it!

I love this stage of their childhood. Where life seems a little more like "America's Funniest Home Videos" and not as much like a "Super Nanny" episode.

Winter Wonderland

Bruce's forecast has finally come through. Snow. And a decent amount at that.

We've had a couple "snow day fake-outs", which are so disappointing. And I thought this would be another one. The forecast for snow has been on-and-off-and-on again this week. But Bruce woke me up in Allison's room (She had a nightmare. And she wouldn't let me leave even though I tried twice) before he left for work to tell me that the roads were covered and Clay likely would not have school.

After getting up and discovering that Spencer was in my bed (Also nightmare plagued, so he just took my vacant spot. Musical beds!!), I went downstairs as Bruce was confirming via computer that Sullivan County schools were closed for the day. He left for work, and I went out to get the newspaper. It was already raining lightly so I grabbed the camera and took a couple pictures, in case it was gone before we got out the door again. The sun was just coming up, so it's kind of blue looking.



I wanted to let Clay sleep in, but I was torn. Thankfully, he was up within 10 minutes, we ate breakfast quickly, and then we suited up and headed outside.

I think our dog, Dixie, enjoyed her first real snow. She chased snowballs Clay tossed to her. Here she is during a brief respite from chasing the kids on their sleds.



And some more pictures.







Can you see the little, square snow bricks above? Clay was very ambitious and wanted to build an igloo. I didn't tell him that it was unlikely because not only were those some tiny little bricks (very time consuming to make each one) but also the rain would probably wash the whole thing away before he finished.







Spencer built probably four snowmen in various locations in the yard. We've got a whole village out there!



I took the picture above just in case you might actually be able to tell that we got probably three inches. Notice also the very finely built railings. Courtesy my own personal Mr. Fixit, Bruce, who is still working his way around the porch, dismantling the old rails and putting up new ones.

CSI

CSI. Yep, that's been my life for the last few days.

I feel like I'm constantly eyeing Allison, trying to catch her in the act of thumb sucking. Or I'm looking for clues to see if she did it some time and I didn't see. Is her thumb shriveled and pruney? Is the Hoof polish stuff picked off?

She actually caught me a minute ago.

We've had a very busy morning. When we dropped Clay off at school earlier today, we took in a couple bags of items for the food drive the school is doing to help re-stock the shelves of Harvest Food Bank. Then we went on our way, off to Bible Study Fellowship.

We're in Matthew, and today's lecture was really great. I am mulling all kinds of things in my head right now: How to tell the difference between an authentic or counterfeit Christian. How each of us is, this very moment, either actively pursuing growing as a Christian or we're stagnant. Our lecture leader asked each of us what we've learned since the study of Matthew started in September and what we've put into practice in our lives from those lessons. And then she asked us, if we aren't learning anything or putting it into practice, to consider if we have hardened our hearts. (Just in case you're interested, we're in the first part of Matthew 13, especially verses 11-17.)

Makes me wonder how many times I've hardened my heart to one of God's insights out of laziness, stubbornness, or pride. More than I want to admit. I've definitely got some praying ahead of me.

From BSF, I went to a lady from church's house. She watched Spencer and Allison last week for me so I could go to a BSF seminar, and I didn't have the checkbook to pay her. So I ran that by, and asked her to watch them again next week, because my BSF group is having a fellowship and I've only been to one so far this year.

The kids asked for Pal's, and Frenchie Fries put a major dent in what little self discipline I have, so we went.

Next stop... the library. Bruce thought since it'd be a cold weekend, we could check-out a couple movies for the kids. He doesn't know yet that I picked up a chick flick, too, though.

Then home. Finally.

I put the kids in their rooms for an hour pretty much every day. It used to be nap time, but now it's just quiet time. No electronics. Just quiet play.

As I was leaving Allison's room I saw that the polish on her thumbs was gone. I asked her if she was going to suck them if I waited until after quiet time to put it back on, and she said no. But I spied through a crack in her doorway. Only, I didn't catch her, she caught me, and even asked me to stop spying on her. So we went downstairs and put the polish on right then.

Not only am I snooping on Allison, which is where I get the "investigation" portion of my CSI days, but my boys gave me an interesting experience last night into what a crime scene might look like.

It was time to start supper and I went upstairs to pull my hair back in a pony tail, because it's long enough to do that now (goody for Bruce, but I'm sick of it already!). The kids were playing with their Star Wars Light Sabers in Spencer's room. These were last-minute gifts from "Santa", bought while we were at Disney because Spencer was so disappointed not to be chosen for a Jedi training thing. We were big time suckers on that one. Kind of like the Moon Sand from last Christmas that now stays at Great Grandpa's house because nearly all his house is linoleum and is easier to clean.

The kids have been fighting like crazy for about two weeks now. I'm just about numb from it. Over stupid stuff. "Mom, he called me a cry baby." "Mom, she looked at me mean." "Mom, he laughed at me for.... blah, blah, blah." They are spending much more time alone in their respective rooms because of it.

But yesterday, they were so sweet!

Clay was helping Spencer clean his room. They were making the bed, building a fort, etc., before the light sabers were pulled out. When I heard Spencer screaming while I was pulling my hair through a rubber band, I figured he was just mad about something that Clay had done, and I was in no rush to find out what it was. Unfortunately.

But then I heard running in addition to the screaming. First, the herd bounded down the stairs all the way to the den, then back up the stairs all the way to our master bathroom. The real kicker was when Clay started chanting: I'm sorry, Spencer. It was an accident. I'm sorry.

And then Spencer threw open the bathroom door, and I saw the most blood any of my kids has ever leaked in one setting. Spurting from his nose. And Clay was as pale as a sheet and looking like he was a dead man walking.

And you know my first thought?

Great! There's a trail of blood from bedroom to den to master bathroom.

It's not that I wasn't concerned about Spencer. But he's the kind of kid that I know he's okay quickly because he stops crying pretty much the minute you put your hands on him. He's a physical-touch love language kid, and once he was in my arms, the crying went to a whimper.

Blood does something funny to me now, as a mom of three kids. It's about the only time all emotion gets shut off. I become a robot, to get done what needs to be done. After the fact is when the shaking starts and my mind goes to all the "what ifs".

After reassuring Clay that he wasn't going to die anytime that day by my hand, I put him in charge of watching Spencer to make sure he was properly stocked with tissue and pinching his nose to stop the geyser. Funny how they can get along perfectly when necessary.

And then I went on a blood cleaning foray. It took a while. A long while.

Here's what my kids learned. If someone is bleeding, they need to get to, and stay in, either the kitchen or bathroom where the floors are easy to clean. Someone else needs to get mom or dad! They also learned that mom still trumps Santa, and all things he gives can quickly be removed from the house when I deem it necessary. Yesterday it was necessary.

Here's what I learned. I can clean up after three kids with a stomach virus just fine, thank you very much. But the metallic smell of vast amounts of blood just about does me in.

CSI, I tell you.

Is She or Isn't She?

Well, we just aren't sure if Allison is on her way to no longer sucking her thumb.

Friday night she was very compliant when I explained I was going to paint her thumb nails with some yucky tasting stuff to help her stop sucking her thumb. We put on the recommended two coats, and she even helped me blow them dry between coats.

After doing our devotion, when it was her turn to pray, she said, "God, please help me to stop sucking my thumb so Spencer won't get to be bigger than me for long."

Sometimes sibling rivalry is a good thing!

We sent them all to bed, and we never heard another word out of her. About an hour later, I checked on her, and she was sleeping soundly, thumb noticeably outside of her mouth. She came downstairs the next morning and was all smiles as she told us she hadn't sucked her thumb. No complaints at all. I was thinking, "Where is my daughter? The one who put her foot down and proved wrong all other mothers who mistakenly claimed that potty training girls was easier than potty training boys?"

Allison even reminded Bruce during the day Saturday that we needed to put more coats on her thumbs because the Hoof junk would come off. And sure enough right after an early shower that evening, I noticed one very un-shiney thumb nail. Convinced she had scraped it off in order to suck, I questioned Allison. She claims it came off in the shower. Hmmm!

At bedtime last night, I snuck back in about 15 minutes after bedtime to see if I could catch her sneaking a suck. Nope. No thumb sucking was happening.

Okay, I know it's awful to be suspicious of your kids. But I am not, and never will be, one of these parents who thinks my kids are perfect. I've seen some of what they're capable of, and what I haven't seen is probably for the best. I also know what I was like as a kid, and I've heard stories about what Bruce was like. Not bad kids, but certainly far from perfect.

And Allison has shown herself to have a sneaky streak. Her skills at lying... well, I'd put them up against the best poker player around. She gets that from Bruce, not me. My face gives me away if I even attempt to tell a lie for a joke. Bruce can hold a straight expression through any inquisition.

Thankfully, the boys take after me. They pretty much tell on themselves within seconds of being questioned. With Allison, we're never quite sure if what we're hearing is all truth, partial truth or bold-faced lie.

And don't think we take this lightly. That child's rear end has been worn out for lying the times that we've caught her. Eventually, I know it will click, and she'll become an honest young lady. I know this because my brothers tell me that they remember me, at her age, being quite skilled at hiding the truth. Being honest was evidently beaten into me. (I'm not sure where Bruce's parents went wrong. Just kidding!)

Seriously, I know Allison will "get it" because I know where my talks with the Lord have centered concerning our daughter.

For now, though, thumb sucking SEEMS to be on its way to becoming a thing of the past. But only Allison and God really know for sure!

I'm going on faith. I've bought her a pink cake for incentive. She's very excited. I'm not sure Allison knew cake could be pink. I even bought mini-chocolate chips to put in the cake after reading the "Add Ins" suggestion on the box.

I've also assured Allison that strawberry cake with chocolate chips tastes way better than your thumb does.

Actually, I've never had strawberry cake with chocolate chips. Does that mean I lied to her? Hmmmmm.

Spencer's Big Day

Today was the big day. Spencer has gone a week without his cloth. A bit longer actually, but we needed the party to happen on a Friday and not during the week.

Here's a picture from almost two and a half years ago. It was taken in a hotel in Frankfurt on the night before we flew back home from visiting mom. Clay was five, and Spencer and Allison were turning three the next day.



This is the last picture we have of Clay and his cloth. I'm so glad he's over that, but looking back, he looks so small in this picture. Anyway...

Yesterday in the newspaper I saw that "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything: a Veggie Tales Movie" was playing today. After Clay said he didn't want to see it, I decided to take Spencer and Allison on a Mommy Date this afternoon.

I told Bruce though that I was beside myself with the previews they showed. The first thing that jumped on the screen was a commercial for the season premiere of "Lost". A gun, shots fired and one of the characters saying, "Everyone on this island is going to be killed." Bruce and I watch "Lost", so I've seen the preview before, but not through the eyes of my five year olds. I'd never let them see that show. Not at all appropriate for a preview in front of a G-rated movie.

The other previews were so intense that Allison had that look that I saw all too often at Disneyworld. Terror! She hid her face at one point, both she and Spencer clutched my hand about half way through, and she was almost crying by the end of them.

We don't go to movie theaters often, and my kids very rarely see a PG movie, so I realize they may be a bit more sensitive than your average 5 and 7 year olds. But, come on. This was a Veggie Tales movie!

Once the movie started, we enjoyed it. It was cute. Not a very deep spiritual message though, which I maybe should have expected. If you go, don't leave the first time the credits pop up. There's a great "music video" at the end that is worth the price of admission on its own. My kids were bee-bopping in their seats.

This evening, we met the Moodys at O'Charley's for Spencer's celebratory meal. If you are what you eat, our kids will very shortly turn into mac 'n cheese and hot dogs. Ninety percent of the time we go out to eat, Spencer is all about the hot dogs, and Clay and Allison snarf down mac 'n cheese.

After tearing into chocolate cake for dessert, Spencer admitted it was totally worth giving up his cloth.

As I type this, Allison sits on the couch, sucking her thumb. Poor unsuspecting little thing, having no idea that in just a few short moments, I'll be pulling out my secret weapon. It's called "Hoof: Stop the Bite". A friend from Bible Study Fellowship recommended it to me when I ran into her at Walmart last year. She said she'd used it on her teenage son to break him of biting his nails.

Now, I'd think for a teenager, the name alone would do the trick. Why put anything in your mouth that's called "Hoof"?

It must be just foul tasting. You paint it on like clear fingernail polish. Several months ago, I slicked some on the thumb Allison favors for sucking. I told her it would taste bad, and so she just decided to forego that experience altogether and switched to suck the other thumb. For about a day. And then she woke up from her nap the following day and forgot long enough to pop in her favorite thumb. Well, when she came downstairs to tell me all about it, she was crying and as mad as could be.

Tonight, both thumbs will get a coating of the stuff. With any luck, we'll be eating out again next Friday night.

Unexpected Blessing

Don't you just love it when you absolutely dread something, and God just smooths the way unexpectedly and the whole ordeal ends up being nothing more than a small blip?

Here we are at Day 5 of Spencer's week without his cloth, and he has surprised me. Sometimes I'd almost put money on the kids knowing my expectations and doing the exact opposite just to make a liar out of me.

Other than the BIG meltdown last Wednesday night, and the whine session the following day (certainly due partly to his lack of sleep), Spencer has hardly noticed his missing cloths.

That Thursday morning, he was pretty mad not to get his cloth. I sat him down and told him, "Don't you remember how hard last night was?" Oh yes, he remembered. I asked him why he'd want to do that again, because if he grabbed hold of his cloth even one more time, we'd have to do that "giving it up" thing all over again. The tension on his face just melted off, and we went to the kitchen for a game of Yahtzee. On Friday, he was getting sleepy around mid afternoon. He looked at me with a frustrated expression and said, "I can't find my cloth." I said, "Oh, you're done with that, remember?" And he smiled and said, "Oh, yeah. I just forgot for a minute."

End of story.

Well, almost. He stood on the kitchen chair yesterday and stretched as far as he could reach and said that he felt "this big" now that he doesn't need his cloth anymore. And then he said, "I'm almost a grown-up now."

How is our most stubborn child easier to break of this than our most easily re-directed child? It's just a God thing. I'm convinced of it.

You see, Miss Allison is watching this whole thing unfold. And her having Spencer's example to follow is going to be so much better for us all than if she remembered and chose to go the route of Clay.

Clinging to The Cloth

Most of you family members know that pretty much from birth my boys have held, sucked and slept with a rotating variety of burp cloths. All my kids were off pacifiers by four months of age, but they each found something different to stick in their mouths at bedtime. The boys had their cloths, and Allison sucks her thumb.

Clay got broke of his dependency on his cloth a couple months after he turned five, after our trip to Germany (I wanted him to have that cloth to cling to on the long airplane flight). Afterwards, we celebrated. A burning of the cloth ceremony in which one was symbolically lit up in our fireplace, while the others were retired to the garage so Bruce could use them for washing cars. Then there was a party. With cake, of course.

It's always been our intention to break Spencer and Allison's habits when they turned five as well, but the best laid plans... you know.

Last month our twins had their dental check-ups and the hygienist said something I, again, had every intention of following through on. She told Spencer that he should give his cloths to Santa, so he could give them to some baby that needs them, because Spencer is big now. I meant to wrap those things up and put them next to Santa's milk and cookies, but I forgot.

Yesterday, I had a reminder phone call from Santa, aka Bruce, telling me to pack those cloths up and send them to the North Pole (probably the Moodys address. And I'll have to mail them on a day that Clay is in school so he won't read the address and blab!) Evidently, some other mommy really needs them for her little boy. I talked this over with Spencer, and his response was, "No, next year. We'll do it next year." Stinker!

Well, I have mounds of laundry to do, so Spencer's stash of clean cloths was out at bed time last night. Instead of fighting this out over the weekend while Bruce isn't working, we just told Spencer, "You don't need it. Go to bed." He is a night owl, so pretty much every half hour until around 11:30 p.m. he was asking one of us for his cloth. By that time, he was completely worn out. They've all been staying up way later than normal over Christmas break. The last time Spencer came downstairs, he was bawling. He wanted his cloth, and someone to sleep with him. I pulled him on my lap and within 15 minutes he was snoozing. Of course when I took him up to bed, he jostled awake, but after having mommy lie next to him for another five minutes, he was a goner!

I thought he'd for sure wake up, like Clay did when he went through this, and cry a few times in the night. Nope! First thing this morning he barrels into our bedroom and yells, "Mom, mom! I did it! I slept without my cloth. Can I have my party now?"

Daddy says one week with no cloth and then PARTY!

Spencer asked about sending his cloths to Santa, and I said that I'd have to wash them first. I said, "We're really proud of you. I knew you were ready! You must be proud of yourself, huh?" And he said, "Yes, but I want to send the cloths to Santa because then I'll have joy in my heart for sharing." I'd like to bottle some of that sweetness up and save it for a rainy, "tough teenager" day.

We were going to break Allison at the same time, but I think Spencer deserves his recognition separate from hers. Plus, I think the thumb will be harder. She keeps telling me, "It's not like you can cut it off." Ahh, but as a former thumb sucker myself, I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve. She has no idea how devious I'll be to avoid the cost of braces!

Uh, oh! Round two. Spencer is begging for his cloth.

Pray for us all!

Out with the New, In with the Old

Yep, that's right. We're getting rid of our newer, used truck that we bought last year because we bought an older, but more heavy duty, used truck. A guy Bruce works with was selling his Ford F-250 for a decent price, so now our Ford F-150 is for sale. The 250 will pull the camper more easily.

I told Bruce that the guys he works with need to stop telling him when they have vehicles for sale. He's bought two motorcycles and now a truck from different coworkers.

The weekend before New Year's Eve Bruce stayed home with the kids while I went to Chattanooga, to help chaperone our church's youth at a conference. Usually, this is Bruce's forte, but they needed more women chaperones than men, so I went. We stayed at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo hotel, which is neat. Bruce and I visited Chattanooga as newlyweds, so I kept thinking back to that time during the weekend. I missed Bruce and the kids fiercely.

I roomed with an older teen girl who I haven't spent much time with before, and her friend, and one of the young ladies in the Sunday school I co-teach. I really enjoyed getting to know her better. During the conference, she buddied around with another girl who is on our Sunday school class role, but has attended only once. So when shopping time at the mall came, I went with both of them and another girl from our class. What an experience, shopping with three very different in personality 13-year-old girls! Gives me great insight into the things to come with Allison.

The conference was different than anything I'd been to before. I thought it was probably a bit over the heads of some of the more immature youth. But one of the conference speakers nailed it when he said that we dummy down stuff for youth, and we shouldn't. He pointed out that most of them take classes in advanced math and science, so they should be able to grasp spiritual matters. He also told the young guys to grow up, saying, "This world can't wait until you're 35. Be a man now. Learn the ways of the Lord." That got me fired up, as a parent, thinking about my boys.

More than once, a speaker told the youth they should be spending time with godly adults. Boys with men and girls with women. He pretty much told them their friends were silly and couldn't be counted on to teach them proper behavior, that they should model themselves after adults. I'm not sure what the youth thought of that, but I saw either nods or huge grins from nearly every adult there.

Allison had a funny take on the weekend without mommy. Bruce had taken the kids with him to get new tires put on our new (but old-ish) truck, and while there, they befriended an older man. Bruce said the kids were talking his ear off, so Bruce told them to calm down, to which the man replied, "They aren't going to settle down as long as they've got me talking to them." Seems he was enjoying them. After a bit, he asked them if they were it or if there were more family members at home. They told them about mommy, and Allison said, "She's on vacation. With the preacher." Bruce said the man looked at him and asked, "Did she just say what I think she said?"

Bruce doesn't take advantage of teachable moments the way I do, so once I got home I talked to Allison and the boys about my weekend with teenage girls... not the preacher!

We didn't go anywhere for New Year's Eve. I thought it was wonderful to be home. We watched two rented movies in the den, and the kids watched a movie in the playroom. They had their sleeping bags spread out down there and were patiently waiting for the summons from us to come up and watch the ball drop. They all stayed up that late, watched the ball drop on TV, and then Clay decided to go to his bed to sleep. Spencer and Allison stuck to the plan, though, and slept in the playroom.

Bruce went back to work this morning for the first time since before Christmas Eve. Clay goes back to school tomorrow. And I'll be cleaning the house from top to bottom. We put away all the Christmas decorations a couple days after Christmas, because I wanted them gone before Bruce went back to work. But now the scrubbing begins!

Oh, a plug for a movie. If you haven't seen "Amazing Grace", rent it. Wonderful acting jobs and some history to boot. If you don't get teary-eyed by the end, then there's just something wrong with your ducts!

Busy, busy, busy

I haven't been on here in awhile because, as I told Bruce, I feel like I've been gone more than I've been in my own home in the last few weeks. It's a slight exaggeration, but not by much.

A few days after returning from Disney, I took the kids to Cookeville to visit with my family there. We stayed for only three days and then rushed back to celebrate Christmas with the Moody side of the family.

While the kids and I were driving home that Sunday morning, a sweet couple had brought to church gifts for our kids for Christmas. Bruce brought them home, and once we got home and after naps, the kids opened them.

This is Allison's reaction to the earrings she received.



Afterwards, we headed to the Moodys for a relaxed evening with family and food. That night, our kids, and the other Moody grandkids, stayed the night at Meemaw and Peepaw's house. Bruce and I had planned to wrap gifts when we got home that evening, without worrying about the kids sneaking up on us, but we stayed over Bruce's parent's house until around 11:30 that night. I was just too tired to wrap then. The next morning, Christmas Eve, we went to the Moody's for brunch.

Here's a few pictures Bruce took the night before Christmas Eve and on Christmas Eve. I was lame this year and never held the camera. Bruce isn't in a single picture. I actually feel pretty bad about that, but I didn't even think of it at the time.

Here's a picture of five of the Moody grandkids.



And here's Joshua, who was MIA from the previous picture.



Our kids are BIG into making paper airplanes. Sometimes I find 20 planes scattered throughout the house in a day. If I throw them away, they magically reappear by the next day. Here Spencer is sharing the joy with Colin and Madison.



Meanwhile, Clay was racking up the pool balls.



Just a few pictures Bruce took while practicing his camera skills.

Brandi.



Sharon.



Roy.



Bryan.



Alondra.



Me. Can you see a marked difference in my expression and everyone else's? Bruce does not normally capture me well. Oh well.



All six grandkids, waiting to open their gifts.



In just a few more days/weeks, there will be a new little Moody grand-daughter to add to upcoming photos. But it'll be awhile before she's outside, being chased by Bruce's camera like the rest of the kids and adults were.

Here's Clay and Colin.



Bryan.



Spencer.



Colin.



Brandon.



Allison and Sadie, Brandon and Brandi's dog.



Madison and Rex, Roy and Sharon's dog.



Clay.



Running to the swing.



Allison.



Brandon pushing Allison.



Madison, future GAP model. That's just what pops into my head every time I look at pictures of her.



Joshua.



Clay.



Spencer.



Bryan, Madison, Roy and Brandon.



Okay, funny story here. Below, Alondra is wearing turquoise earrings she received from the Moodys for Christmas. Each of us daughters-in-law received a pair. And Sharon matched earring styles to personal styles perfectly. Alondra's pair are long and dangly. Brandi's are medium sized, hanging about half as much as Alondra's. And mine are little squares with no dangle! We should have had all three of us wearing our earrings in one picture.



Back at home Christmas morning. Our kids were pretty happy with all the toys from Santa and mom and dad. Here's Allison and her Barbie, and Clay and his Brain Age game for this DS.



Spencer and his racing track.



In their stockings, the boys got these miner's head lights, which were a huge hit. They both wear them constantly. The other night, when I went into Clay's room to kiss him after they were all asleep, I found him passed out, with the miner's light strapped to his head, shining brightly.



Roy made Spencer and Allison bookshelves for their rooms. They love them! However, I am beginning to think they are as much a gift to me as to the kids. Finally, I can walk into Packrat Spencer's room and see carpet. Spontaneous vacumming will finally be spontaneous.