Turning 6

Just a warning, up front. There are a lot of pictures in this post. It's for the family, folks!

Our babies turned six this past week. Here's a little Before and After.

Allison as a nine-month-old baby.



And Spencer at the same age.



That was then. And this is now.



We had Spencer and Allison's birthday party last Saturday, and it was honestly the easiest party we've done for our kids so far. I think because there were just enough kids there to keep each other entertained.

We had plans to play musical chairs with a Camp Rock CD that we bought them for a gift... and even had prizes. But that just didn't happen. The kids mostly just ran around the church gym, playing chase, basketball and hide-and-go-seek.

I'm all for unstructured play!

I went more low-key this party. We had the Camp Rock theme (because my kids have watched that show about a hundred times by now! And it worked well for both genders.). But I just got a generic cake from Food City. We love their whipped cream frosting!



As a little side note, I surprised Bruce with a cake of his own, because his last class for his MBA was the Thursday before the party. Only a couple of our closest friends came solely for Bruce, but that was good, too. Because while I wanted to do something for him, he would have balked if it had been a big deal.



We ate the entire birthday cake, but had Bruce's cake left over. It eventually went to my beloved youth girls' Sunday school class the next morning where three of my best buds teach, and they gobbled it all up. So it wasn't wasted!

Here are a few more pictures of the kids playing and the friends who came.







And then the boys and girls separated to two different tables to eat cake.



This next picture is just one example of why Bruce's parents make a great Meemaw and Peepaw to my kids. This is Spencer's gift bag that held the backpacks my in laws got for the birthday boy and girl.



So that was their party.

On their actual birthday on Sunday we loaded up and went to Dollywood. I know we've shown Dollywood pictures a few times here before, but I'm going to do it again anyway.

This is the first time we've been able to ride the newest ride, the River Battle. Bruce took the kids on the ride, and I shot water at them from the banks. And took pictures.





They got soaked. I didn't. And that's pretty much perfect.





Allison was not happy about being soaked. Remember, she is a princess after all.



This is at the Dreamland Forest Treehouse area. We visit it every time it's warm. The reason for that is obvious...



Just to be sure that every surface of his body was drenched, Clay went in head first.



This is what my crazy husband does for self entertainment.



Here's my new haircut... tired, hot, sweaty, and after several water rides. Holds up pretty good, huh? I love it. Bruce is not admitting he likes it. He'll get over it. (That's what he tells me whenever I'm unhappy about something he's done.)



Clay. In classic eight-year-old-Clay-mode.



Spencer sticks his tongue out while concentrating on driving at the Rockin' Roadway.



Allison and Spencer right after boarding the Smokey Mountain River Rampage.



Allison and Spencer trying to avoid getting wet on the same ride.



I love this picture because it's just so rare for all three of my kids to be doing the same thing at the same time... with all three of them happy to boot!



This ride, the Shooting Star, is always a hit.



The whole weekend was a huge hit!

Today, we've spent the entire day finishing up painting the porch/deck of our house. It has taken embarrassingly long to get this job done. Weather and life with kids has interrupted the process way too may times to count.

And I admit that I still have a small section to touch up, but the weather has started looking iffy, so we stopped. The rest will probably take me an hour.

That's as close to done as I need to be to celebrate victory over this not-so-small household job.

I'll post pictures some other time.

Oh, Happy Day!

Today, my favorite person in the whole wide world stopped by for a quick visit.

He is my new Best Friend Forever.

It was my UPS man.



And he delivered a highly anticipated package... containing the new heating element for my dryer. Good bye, stupid ol' Sunbean iron! I won't be needing you again any time soon.

I am oh-so-happy.

I'm behind on posting. I'll get up some pictures of the kids and their birthday party soon.

We've run around like crazy this week. Each day I had separate optometrist appointments for me and the kids. Separate, because now that they are all in school, I can do that sort of thing.

In the past I have taken all three for appointments in one setting.

Trust me, the Chinese have nothing in their stash of torture ideas to match taking three children to any doctor, dental or eye appointment.

The only downside is that it took up huge chunks of time each morning this week, so I got no housecleaning done. And I'd been telling Bruce that once all three kids were in school, our house would be shiny clean. (Really... what makes us say such stupid promises? I'd swear I'd been drinking if I didn't know better!).

Because of eye appointments, regular siphoning visits to Wal-mart, and other errands, I've only been home for lunch and to make supper and then head back out the door for something with the kids all week. But when I told Bruce I was stressed about it, he suggested that next time our annual eye appointments come around, I should just take all three on the same day again.

I'd swear he'd been drinking if I didn't know better.

I love how the suggestion came from my sweet honey, who has never had the pleasure of accompanying three jacked-up kids, sitting in a waiting room for endless hours of time, passing nap times, passing snack times, and passing the end of all patience.

That's just crazy talk coming out of his mouth. Sometimes he's so smart, too.

But not always.

I told Bruce it was worth every penny of overpriced gas that it took for me to chauffeur each child separately to their appointment. I consider it an investment in my mental stability.

Today, I started on housecleaning. All day. And I'm still not done.

What is it about cleaning that makes you realize how dirty stuff really is? I thought I just needed to scrub bathrooms and vacuum. But along the way I found all kinds of other stuff to clean.

I think I have ADD when it comes to cleaning. I'm constantly side-tracked.

I got my glass-topped stove scrubbed clean, wiped down blinds, poured Drano down our shower and bathroom drains, and hauled all kinds of junk out of the kids' rooms. Then I priced some stuff for an upcoming garage sale.

If I could have another two days just like today, my house really would be shiny.

But when is the last time you had several days in a row to clean?

Yeah, me, too!

Never!

THAT friend

I ran into THAT friend the other day.

You know the one. We all have at least one.

It's that friend that if you run into an aisle at Walmart where she is, you quickly backtrack and hoof it out of there, hoping she didn't see you.

I just don't like her. I'm not even sure where it began. I can remember a time when things were pleasant between us. But somewhere along the line, things got heated.

Probably around the time I saw her flirting with my husband. She doesn't know I saw, but I did. She's a man eater, for sure.

And what kills me... Bruce can't see her true nature. He thinks she's nice. And he never ceases to notice whenever she's around.

I'm not jealous. But I'm pretty sure she thinks she's better than me. She's younger, more polished.

I'm not sure why the Lord has this friend in my life. I think he wants to use her for good. To straighten some things out in me.

But I don't like it.

To be honest, even calling her a "friend" is a farce. I admit I've talked about her before. Behind her back. The word "hate" has even come up.

This particular meeting went well. We met privately, because it was necessary. No witnesses.

Things started out in a mess. For me. I'm not sure she even has a clue of the way I truly feel about her.

I know that's terrible to admit. Nearly everyone around knows how much I dislike her, but she's clueless. It's catty on my part to not just openly admit to her face that I don't care for her one bit.

We came to an understanding, I think. But I'm still certain I won't seek her out any more in the days to come than I have in the months past.

But maybe, just maybe, God can use this recent meeting as a stepping stone so I can get beyond my distaste for this friend.

Do you want to know who she is? Chances are good, I may have already gossiped to you about her, so this will be no great surprise to some of you.

Her name is Sunny.

Short for Sunbeam. (What can I say about her name? Her parents are hippies.)



No. I can't help myself. I still can't stand Sunny. And I'll probably always talk about her behind her back.

I am eagerly awaiting in the mail the new heating element for our dryer! My dryer is a true friend.

I love Ken.

Short for Kenmore. (What can I say? His parents are yuppies.)

The great thing about Ken is that he'll never flirt with my husband. And Bruce never knows he's around. Unless Ken goes off at night.

Ken has a temper.

Cheering and Football

If enthusiasm is anything to judge by, the kids are going to love cheerleading and football. Last night was the second night of cheering practice for Allison and the first night of flag football practice for Clay and Spencer.

Allison cracks me up, because she is so much like me when it comes to coordination. She gets out there and moves her feet OR her arms, but very rarely both at the same time.

She gets frustrated that she's not learning the moves as quickly as she'd like. That comes from me, too.

But, she's having a good time and almost always has a smile on her face.







This is Clay's first year of flag football. Mainly because he's been fearful of the sport up until his younger brother expressed an interest. No amount of prodding from me would get him to try it. But the knowledge that his Little Brother was giving it a whirl... now that's incentive.





If you look closely, you can see the football at the very top of the picture below, coming toward Clay.



He caught it! I've noticed he keeps his eye on the ball much better in football than he did in baseball.





Clay said after practice last night that he wished he'd been playing all along. That's good to hear. At least he'll enjoy this sport and not fuss before every practice, like he did with baseball.

Spencer loves football. That little fireball would be ready for tackle football right now, which would be dangerous for everyone involved. Like a Pomeranian going after a Pit Bull. All gumption, no sense. Not that Spencer is stupid... just that he doesn't know the rules yet.







Spencer also keeps his eye on the ball very well. This picture cracks me up. He's just squatting and waiting for that ball.



You can't see it very well, but Spencer's smile is stretched all over his face. He loved that nobody got his flag.



Spencer would make my dad proud. My dad loves football. He officiates for the sport now, and has for years.

When we were kids, my dad simultaneously watched one football game on television, had the radio tuned to a second game, and read in the newspaper details about a third game. And if we happened to be foolish enough to get rowdy while those football feasts were being enjoyed by Dad, we'd get stuck in a Time Out chair of sorts. A chair that sat in the living room where all the noise from those games was going on, so dad's evil eye could rest upon us quickly if we squirmed.

Let me tell you, I suffered in that chair. I've never been more bored. Not even in my college Government class. And I don't care much for football because of those sessions.

But that was before.

Before my boys played. I just might develop a taste for the sport after this.

I certainly, very nearly, decided to somewhat enjoy baseball when the boys played.

Better get off here. The kids are out of school today and we have running around to do to get last minute things for Spencer and Allison's birthday party tomorrow.

Differing Views

We dropped the kids off at Awanas last night and came home, both Bruce and I on separate missions to get some stuff caught up around the house.

I started on what looked to be about seven loads of laundry. Bruce worked on more of the porch painting.

When I have that much laundry to do, I'm impatient. The dryer takes longer than the washer to run. So when the washer looks to be about finished, I start hanging up the stuff in the dryer, even though it's often still damp.

The wrinkles are worked out by then, keeping me from my all time nemesis: the iron. That's really all I care about.

However, yesterday, I noticed no heat coming from the dryer. No heat = wrinkles.

Not good.

I went to Bruce on the porch and told him I thought our dryer's heating element was out. After I emptied the dryer and hung up all our wet clothes, I took Bruce's paintbrush while he went to dig around in the dryer's innards.

As we swapped, we shared our thoughts on this dilemma. Another example of how differently women and men view things.

I said something along the lines of: "Well, if it's the heating element, Lowe's is open until 9 p.m. Hurry so we can get the part and you can fix that baby and I can get back on track."

He said this: "That's what they make laundromats for."

Laundromats? Surely he jests!

Laundromats are for college students, people who don't have dryers, and housewives who are washing a huge comforter because the household cat has vomited on it. I know this because I've been to laundromats before. As a college student, before I owned a dryer and to clean feline vomit from my comforter.

But now? I'm way past college, I have my own dryer and the cat is dead and gone.

See, I figure he said that the laundromat would solve things nicely because he isn't the one who would sit there, waiting for the clothes to dry. As long as my day is the only one inconvenienced, all is right in Bruceland.

I'm praying that our oven and stove break simultaneously. Soon.

Because, that's what they make restaurants for.

This man/woman stuff is fascinating!

Bruce ordered a new heating element online, because it was half the cost of the one waiting in the warehouse in JC. I have a bit more than a week to do laundry without my dryer.

God bless my in-laws who let me swing a load by their house last night to put in their dryer!

Oh Boy!

"Mom, there's a girl in my class. She told me I'm cute."

This said, Spencer's eyebrows raised slightly, and a little grin peeped from his lips.

"Oh, really?" I replied.

"And then, she does this..." Spencer continued. And gave a little demonstration that went something like this:




Oh Boy!

Well, what's a mom to say?

She has good taste. He is awfully cute.

Jumping Around

Today, I'm posting over at Laced With Grace.

A few weeks ago, they asked for any of their readers who were interested to submit a devotional. I jumped on board.

Jump over for your own visit.

Separation Anxiety

Today marks the beginning of real school for Spencer and Allison.

Clay has already been plugging along for two weeks. But our younger two have been on a staggered schedule and have attended only two half-days. During those two days, only a portion of their classmates were also in attendance.

Today is another half day, but all the kindergarten students are there, so the classes are complete. And they look huge compared to what Spencer and Allison have seen on their preceding two days.

The kindergarten teachers sent home notes asking parents to discontinue walking their children to class once the half days are over, when they begin attending the whole school day. That's tomorrow.

Last week when they went, and today when I dropped them off, I parked the car in a nearby lot and we walked to where the car riders are dropped off. It's a different entrance than where my kids have been going in near the school office. I just wanted them to feel comfortable tomorrow when I drop them off as car riders, confident that they can walk to class alone.

Last week, they were very confident.

"We can do it. You don't have to show us. We know where our classes are."

But I insisted on doing it again today. I told them I wasn't going to say anything. I was simply there to follow them.

I walked five paces behind.

Clay warned me as we approached the building that I shouldn't hug him or kiss him outside of his classroom. I told him, "Whatever, buddy. I'm throwing you down right there in front of everyone and covering your face with all kinds of kisses. And when I finally let you stand up, then I'm hugging you."

"You're kidding," he deadpanned. But just to be sure, he added, "Right?"

Yes, I assured him, I was kidding.

As we got near his door, he sidled up to me and gave me a one-arm half hug.

It was enough for me. And more than I expected.

I continued walking behind Spencer and Allison. They were quiet as we walked the halls today.

They do, in fact, know exactly where their classes are.

Allison's was first. She hugged me. And hugged me. And wouldn't let go. Finally, she loosened her grip, and took one step, but before her hands let me go, she turned right back toward me and hugged me some more.

I blocked the doorway for a few minutes, trying to disengage. There were no tears, so that was good. Then, like a little trooper, she faced the firing squad of a much larger group of kindergartners.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the other side of the hallway, saying, "C'mon, Mom. Let's go."

After Allison sat down, I walked Spencer to his classroom where he, too, was greeted by the sight of way more kids than he'd previously been in class with. He paused then, in no great rush to get to his seat.

I got my kiss and hug and sent him on his way. I slipped to the side of the door, out of Spencer's sight, intending to peek on him a bit. But before I could sneak a look, he ran back to me with a questioning, "Mom?". I loved on him some more, he smiled and then he went to his seat.

I peeked a second later, and he was fine.

Then I walked back down the hallway and checked on Allison on my way out. She was okay, too.

But I was drained.

Who would have thought there would be delayed separation anxiety? I was not at all prepared for that today.

And then I remembered a friend who, last time I heard, was struggling with her little man and his own kindergarten-inspired separation anxiety.

I figured God used my children to bump me to remember to pray for that friend.

That's what I'll be doing as I paint some more of our porch this morning.

Dodging wasps, praying for peace, and hoping I don't spill paint all over the place.

What a Monday!

On Writing

I was surfing blogs and websites of some of my favorite authors recently. Sometimes they list their favorite authors.

Today I clicked on the name of an author I've heard of, but never read. He wrote something on his blog that was so perfect for me. I'll share that in a minute.

But first, this. Bruce tells me often that I should go back to newspaper publication when I return to the work force (whenever that may be. I'm still waiting for God's okay on that one.). My mother-in-law is a big encourager when it comes to my writing. Several of my friends who read this crazy litany of life I post here have said sweet words, too.

I'm praying about what I'll do when I go back to work, but I can't say that I'm sold on writing for pay anymore. I've tried to explain to Bruce that when I worked at newspapers previously, I was not a mom.

And that has changed nearly everything about who I am.

I'm not sure I have the gumption to handle simultaneously both the stress of writing publicly and the stress of motherhood. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to writing (not to be misinterpreted as being a perfect writer!); that trait in motherhood flew out the window within weeks of my first child's birth.

I beat myself up when I make mistakes in either endeavor, though. I'm not confident that I can handle a beating of that magnitude if I attempt to do both mothering and writing for publication at the same time. This just may be an either/or situation.

I do love to write. But I'm keeping the kids as long as the Lord allows.

The connection between writing and money is inconsequential to me. And it becomes less important with every passing day of motherhood.

Now, on to what I found on Alton Gansky's blog. He wrote a post about amateur writers and said the following:

"We do not become writers because we get paid for it. We are writers because we put words on a page. Every 'successful' writer was once an amateur. Dean Koontz taught school, as did Stephen King; Jack Cavanaugh was a pastor; Grisham practiced law. On my shelf are books written by airline pilots, ER doctors, insurance brokers (Tom Clancy), housewives, nurses, engineers, and just about every other profession.

Publication has always been my goal, but it's not the only goal. Writing has its own rewards and those rewards are unique to every wordsmith. Fiction writers know what it's like to live in a world of their own creation; nonfiction writers know what it means to communicate information that might otherwise languish in the backwaters of ignorance.

Amateur or professional a writer is one who writes. Period."

Yep, I love that.

Making money... I can do that as a cashier at Target. And get an employee discount, to boot!

But writing... that I do for me. Not necessarily for money.

Unless the Lord convinces me otherwise.