Super Bowl

To all you die-hard football fans, I apologize. But I cannot resist.



I watch the super bowl for the commercials. And even some of those are complete duds.

Just Say No

I'm pretty honest with my kids. If they ask a question, I do my best to be truthful and knowledgeable, so they can understand facts, our faith, and situations that come up.

I might need to reconsider. Because sometimes it comes back to haunt me.

At supper the other night, Clay said something about failing a class in school. Why he is concerned about that I have no idea. The kid is pretty much a straight A student.

"I don't expect any of you kids to fail a grade," I said. "I never failed a grade, and if I can do it, so can you. You kids are smarter than I was."

I should have worded that a bit differently.

I wasn't a stupid child. According to my dad, who probably remembers me at that age better than I do, I was fairly bright. But I don't remember having any great initiative to do well.

Other than studying spelling words on the school bus ride home, I don't remember a whole lot about elementary school. I liked it. Who wouldn't? It seemed like hours of play time to me, up to about middle school, or junior high, which is what it was called where I went to school.

But what my kids heard me say was that they are smarter than I was. And Clay picked right up on that statement.

"Yeah, probably because you did drugs," he said.

Umm. Yeah. That.

Whoever started that whole "honesty is the best policy" bit clearly did not have children.

My kids know that I smoked cigarettes. Never bought a pack, but I bummed a lot off of friends at various phases between junior high and early adulthood.

My kids also know that once upon a time, I drank alcoholic beverages. Pretty much any time I could get my hands on it between junior high and up to about a week before I turned 21. (The irony is that I became a Christian shortly before that momentous birthday and I've never had even a shot glass of alcohol since then.)

Sadly, I got my hands on it fairly frequently. Probably at first because we lived in Germany and it was on the shelves of nearly every store. But I don't recall having difficulty accessing it once back in the States either. Maybe it's changed now. I hope so.

In our house, cigarettes and alcohol are drugs. The kids know our health reasons for avoiding them. We've also talked about financial reasons to avoid starting a habit, or addiction. And they know the reasons the Lord gives for abstaining, and that we cling heartily to that.

They also know that their daddy was much better at rebuffing peer pressure than I was. So I always tell them, "I pray that you're as smart as dad about drugs and not as weak as mom."

But there is nothing quite like hearing your kids say "you did drugs" to make you wish you'd been wiser in your youth. I'm not sure I ever heard "Just Say No" until after I'd already said, "Umm, okay. I will if you will." And I'm not sure I'd have listened anyway.

Oh, how I pray for my kids and what they'll face in the years to come.

Bummer to Blessed

This day had all the promise of being a bummer.

Right before Awanas last night, Clay spiked a fever. He'd already complained about a sore throat, but, hey, who in this house hasn't had a sore throat in the last two weeks?! (Actually, Spencer. He has blissfully escaped all symptoms of the cruddy cold with consistent cough.)

I stayed home with Clay while Bruce dropped Spencer and Allison off at church for Awanas. Then he went to meet his parents, because his dad finally got sprung from the Big House (that would be the hospital, which I'm sure felt like jail for him).

I kept Clay home this morning even though his throat didn't look particularly streppy. By then he had a headache, too.

I wasn't sure what to do. I had a dental appointment at 10:30 a.m. Keep it or cancel it?

After dropping the younger two off at school, I showered and got ready and called the pediatrician. They providentially called back before we left for my dentist appointment... and set Clay's appointment for late enough after my appointment that we didn't have to stress about making it, or being back home before Spencer and Allison got off the school bus. Oh, the juggling we do!

We got to the dentist's office and I warned our hygienist that Clay probably had strep and that I was getting over all kinds of wicked germs. She calmly reached for her face mask.

Then she mentioned that she could slip Clay in right after my cleaning since his appointment was the next morning and "he might not feel up to it then." She'd had a cancellation earlier this morning that conveniently allowed her the time to move Clay's appointment. I love our hygienist, Miss Judy. She rocks!

Clay got his teeth cleaned and we left with a business card for a local orthodontist. Might as well get used to the idea of funding three metal mouths.

We were home long enough to take his temperature and realize it was climbing. We decided to wait to each lunch until after his appointment, and to eat at Taco Bell instead of at home.

Our pediatrician looked at Clay's throat and said it didn't look streppy (my paraphrase). I said, "I know, but still..."

Then he looked for the rash that my boys always get with strep and noted that it was absent. I said, "I know, but..."

He noticed Clay had a snotty nose and remarked that usually strep doesn't include congestion. Again... "I know, but still..."

I don't think the doctor planned to swab Clay. And I knew I'd be in trouble with Bruce.

His workplace started employing a doctor on site about a half year ago. Visits are free to employees and their families. But when I took Allison (and was 100 percent certain she had strep) the doctor didn't swab her, but sent us on our way with a prescription for antibiotics.

I am not an antibiotic-happy parent. I want tests done to prove my kids need it first.

I have only been wrong about my kids and strep twice in probably 25 plus cases so far. Still, I have been wrong. And they get the junk enough that I want them to benefit from antibiotics when they need them and not find that we are out of luck because the antibiotic is ineffective thanks to overuse and abuse.

So I chose to pay a $30 copay today instead of visit the free doctor... based solely on the swab. The swab that was looking more and more unlikely.

They had Clay blow his nose in Saran Wrap and came back and asked if we had any new indoor pets. No, we don't. Just fish. Old fish, not new ones.

And so it became apparent that Clay's allergies are getting worse. Or at the very least, he's adding new allergens.

Well, I'm an idiot about allergies. Did you know that dermatological, respiratory and food allergies are all tested in different ways? I didn't.

Clay had complained in the last half year about tomatoes itching his throat after he eats them. Pizza is fine. Spaghetti is fine. But raw tomatoes aren't.

And earlier this month, after eating an apple, he made that gross sound in the back of his throat that he does in his sleep all spring and summer long. It sounds like he's about to retch. But he's actually rubbing his upper and lower throat together to "scratch".

I mentioned all that to the doctor, thinking that might be what put allergens in my boy's snot. The doctor said he'd go back and look for more bacteria.

Then the nurse came in with the swabbing Q-tip. Which tested positive for strep.

Clay opted for the shot, as is typical for him. He hates taking oral medication. Consequently, he has made us hate the ordeal of giving it to him. Every time he says he wants the shot, I am thrilled.

And then the nurse came back with a lab sheet to have a vial of Clay's blood drawn to test for food allergies to tomatoes and apples.

Oh crud! I am not the best person to take my child on his first blood test adventure. I passed out after every blood test from my first in fourth grade until I was in my 30's.

And then I had them often enough that I got over it. And not a moment too soon, because from then on I had one to three kids watching when I had my blood drawn. And there was no way I was fainting in front of them and passing on my phobia.

Clay has been engrossed every time he's watched me have blood drawn. Ever since he could stand beside me instead of sitting in his car seat while it's drawn. Freakishly fascinated.

Today, he was less fascinated by the idea of his own blood being drawn. At first, I thought we'd just wait and do it another day. I mean, the poor boy has strep and feels bad anyway. By then he was limping for taking a shot to the rear. He said he had had enough for one day.

We had our lunch at Taco Bell, and I had more time to think.

He had nearly fallen asleep waiting to be seen by the doctor. He was a bit lethargic from the fever he had. And worn out from the adrenaline rush accompanying his shot in the bum. Any other day, he'd be more energetic. More able to fight off medical personnel.

Plus, the whole dreading it in advance thing... I'm not a fan.

I said, "Let's drive by, see how busy they are, and get this done if they're not busy."

Nope, he was having none of that. I waffled.

But any other day, it might be raining. Or snowing. Today would be easy in and easy out.

Any other day, I might have the other two munchkins along for the ride. Today we were solo.

Plus, he'd already missed school. I'd have to pull him out if we came back another day.

We went in to the lab, I filled out the paperwork and we sat. He said he was nervous. I said that was normal.

I told him he would feel the needle going in, but no other pain. And that the bee stings he has had are way worse pain that blood tests.

I was watching the clock. We had 45 minutes until Spencer and Allison would get off the bus at home.

His name was called and we went back. That nurse was something else! Love her. Wish we could keep her.

She put the rubber band on his arm and then showed Clay this huge, fat blue vein in his arm, perfect for puncturing. Clay asked her how big the needle was and she said, "I use this one on five-year-olds. You're eight. You're going to be just fine."

She took the plastic tip off and Clay said, "Oh, that doesn't look sharp at all." But his eyes were dilated by now.

She rubbed on the alcohol then she counted down and put the needle in. But Clay had turned his head to talk to me for a second. She asked him, "Have I started yet?"

He said "no" as he was turning his head back toward his arm, and then he saw the needle in his arm and incredulously said, "yes!" It was over in no time.

You have to know that this was God's provision here. I have overcome my propensity to faint when having my own blood drawn, but I was feeling very apprehensive about going through this with him.

Even with all the House and ER I watch, I do not watch shots or needles of any kind on TV or in movies. I curl up as near to fetal as I can get and close my eyes with my head held down. Then I ask whoever is with me, "Is it over?" until I get a positive reply.

I really wanted to call Bruce and have him come to handle this, because I didn't want to warp Clay.

But our boy did great. And he is none the wiser concerning what a weakling his mother is. Here he is at home after the fact, with his lovely pink bandaging. He's obviously still a little puny.




We got home a good 20 minutes before the other two got off the bus.

Every minute of this day was controlled by the Lord.

I know they all are. But some days you just notice it more.

It's been a blessed day.

My FIL

Bruce's dad is still in the hospital.

Surgery yesterday morning went well. He was supposed to stay at the hospital one night and then go home today. My mother-in-law slept at the hospital with him last night.

We went by the hospital last night around 7 p.m. to visit with them for a few minutes. The kids behaved great and didn't jump on the hospital bed or tug the IV line. (They were so good that I hopped down a floor and over a wing or two to visit a friend from my Bible study group. And then I got lost trying to find my way back to my father-in-law's room. Crazy hospital!)

I almost didn't let the kids go for the visit. I wasn't sure how they would react to seeing their Papaw in a hospital bed. They are not accustomed to seeing my FIL as anything less than larger-than-life. Most days, he has nearly the energy that our kids have. Really. He could take 'em. Or at least go down still swinging.

But when I asked the kids if they wanted to go for a visit, Spencer seemed especially distraught about Roy's condition. He had to know for himself that Papaw was fine.

As soon as they rounded the corner to his room, Roy reassured them that he was fine, despite appearances. Evidently, they were momentarily stunned into silence. If I'd known that was coming, I would have prepared myself to enjoy the brief pause more.

Spencer's face was as serious as could be as he asked my FIL various questions.

Then we went home.

This morning, Bruce called to tell me that he called his mom on his way to work and she said that his dad's blood pressure dropped around midnight and wasn't stable since then.

For now, he stays put.

Bruce left work early today to relieve his mom a bit so she could go home and shower.

The kids got off the bus a minute ago, and I gave them updates.

Clay got very serious and said, "Mom, what's wrong with his blood pressure?"

I said we didn't know. And he asked me if it was low because they had visited him. I could have cried for him, thinking he might have done something to hurt his grandpa.

I assured him they didn't do anything bad to their Papaw by visiting.

And, because I am a good mother, I didn't tell him that what they usually do is RAISE a person's blood pressure. Mine, in particular!

Say a prayer for Roy and Sharon please. And for Bruce and his brothers, too. Oh, just lump us all in there.

I'm Blue

I don't feel particularly sad though.

Today is good actually. My father-in-law had surgery this morning and all went well. It's a blessing that it's over now.

That's not why I say I'm blue. Evidently, that's my personality type. You know, if you're prone to believing personality tests.

This test, based off of writings by Taylor Hartman, Ph.D., aligns your personality with one of four major colors: red, yellow, blue or white. Here's Dr. Hartman's book:



I read about this via a blog written by one of my favorite writers. So I hopped over and took the test.

And I'm blue.

Blues (Motive: Intimacy)
Blues are motivated by Intimacy. They seek to genuinely connect with others, and need to be understood and appreciated. Everything they do is quality-based. They are loyal friends, employers, and employees. Whatever or whomever they commit to is their sole (and soul) focus. They love to serve and give of themselves freely in order to nurture others' lives.

Blues have distinct preferences and have the most controlling personality. Their personal code of ethics is remarkably strong and they expect others to live honest, committed lives as well. They enjoy sharing meaningful moments in conversation as well as paying close attention to special life events (e.g. birthdays and anniversaries). Blues are dependable, thoughtful, and analytical; but can also be self-righteous, worry-prone, and moody. They are "sainted pit-bulls" who never let go of something or someone once they are committed. When you deal with a BLUE, be sincere and make a genuine effort to understand and appreciate them.

Interesting.

I've always known I'm a bit controlling. It's what causes me to bump heads with my youngest son. And my brothers, when we were growing up.

I am very loyal. And committed. (And not the straight-jacket kind of committed either. Well, not usually anyway. There are days though...)

I cannot say that everything I do is quality. My eighth-grade science class oral presentation, with accompanying poster board display, on the moon and its effects on tides is a testament to that. Schlock. Pure schlock.

Analytical?! I think of analytical people as those possessing much reason. I'm too emotionally bent to claim any great amount of reason. This characterization would just crack up my husband.

On the flip side, if you shorten the word to, um, anal... well, sure, I fit the bill.

Worry prone? You betcha! I hate it because it makes my faith appear weak. I fight it with prayer. Lots of prayer.

Self-righteous? I've been guilty of that. But being a Christian has tempered it greatly. It's hard to be self righteous when you realize what a slug you are in your sin.

Still, it's interesting.

I like taking personality tests. But I'm always happy when something is way off base. Because we're all individuals, and I don't like to be pigeonholed.

If you want to take the test, click HERE. Be aware that there's a simple test that's free (and you know that's what this cheap chick chose) and an advanced one that costs some dough.

When you're done, leave a comment and tell me what color you are and what it means. I might just learn something about you.

Or not.

What Have YOU Done?

I'm in the mood for a bit of senseless fun. Got this off of Amy's blog at The Kings Table. Go see her. She's fun.

Just copy and paste this to your blog and bold the ones that you HAVE done.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given to charity
7. Been to Disneyland ... or Disneyworld!
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Made a prank phone call

To be frank, some of these scare me. Like watching a lightning storm at sea. And skinny dipping. Yikes! It'd have to be one seriously desserted body of water. And those places tend to be home to critters. That nip.

A few of these I can safely say I'll NEVER do. Like bungee jumping, hitchhiking and sky diving. I'm not sure I'd even fly in a helicopter if given the chance.

But one of these days... I plan to visit Niagra Falls and the Grand Canyon. In fact, we're considering both these spots for our family vacation this year. Considering. I'm not sold on either yet.

And how I've made it to this stage in my life without doing something as simple as going to a drive-in theater... it's a tragedy. Especially considering how many movies I've seen.

I also really want to serve in a soup kitchen one day. Bruce and I considered it one Thanksgiving when we lived in Dallas and had no kids and were far away from family. But we ended up hosting a meal at our home with some friends.

I've wanted to learn to quilt ever since I interviewed some lady quilters years ago when I reported at a newspaper. It could happen.

I'd like to serve on a jury. I think. I've missed my shot so far. Twice. The first time when I was sent the notice days before we moved from Texas with our seven-week-old baby. The second time when we were out of town on vacation.

And I will read the entire Bible. It's a shame to admit that I haven't yet.

Neat list. Makes me think I need to get out more often.

Inauguration

I'm watching the Inauguration of our 44th president. And I am torn.

What a proud day that our country would finally take steps to heal some of its past racial unrest. Although I think having a black president will incite some individuals, I'm hoping our country can hold it together for this next presidential term, or terms. I'm praying for our new president's safety and wisdom.

I don't expect that he will do much that I am personally in agreement with. But I trust the One really in control of this country.

Myself, I feel better having a black man as president than a woman. That's just me. I have my reasons. I won't go into great detail, but sum up my thoughts with this favorite quote from a wonderful story:

“Battles are ugly when women fight.”
--Aslan, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis

And for the next four years, longer if necessary, I'll be holding on to this scripture:

"Do not blaspheme God or curse the ruler of your people." Exodus 22:28.

That doesn't mean I won't share my opinions with family and close friends. I'm challenging myself to remain as respectful of this presidency as I would want my children to see me be.

Because they are watching me.

Just like I am watching our new president.

But for my security I'm keeping my eyes on the Prince of Peace. Not Obama.

Dorky

School is cancelled tomorrow. It's snowing. Again.

Today, the kids have been out for "Winter Break". Whatever that means. Clay thinks he's out for Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so calling this day off a "Winter Break" seems dorky to me. Call a spade a spade, and give MLK Jr. his day back!

We have another "Winter Break" day set for Feb. 16. I wonder if we'll lose that since school is closed tomorrow. It makes sense. But something dorkier (you know... more dorky) might happen and we'll keep our second "Winter Break" and just have the kids go to school one additional day in May.

These two "Winter Break" days bug me. Don't get me wrong. I like that the kids get a three-day weekend.

But I'd like it even more if they got a real "break"... of a few days. Back-to-back. Not two Mondays spread a month apart.

That's just dorky.

The area city school kids got a "Fall Break" in October. It lasted a full five days. Just like Spring Break. Now, those are breaks.

I understand that county schools can plan fewer breaks than city schools. Because city schools tend not to close for every flake of snow that falls. County schools are more prone to closing for winter weather. I know the reasons... safety... a larger area of land has a greater likelihood of someone in that district being in pitiful shape when snow and ice are a factor.

But still.

I could plan a real "break" around even a four-day weekend. A Calgon-Take-Me-Away kind of break. A Get-Out-of-Dodge sort of thing. A Let's-Make-it-Worth-Our-While-to-Load-Up-the-Camper deal.

A three-day weekend might take us to an area campground, but it's not going to get us very far from our normal stomping grounds. Not that we'd be camping in this weather anyway.

But still.

That's not what I'm craving right about now. I'm wanting something new. Unchartered territory for our family. Maybe even something out of our cell phone service area.

It's winter. I think I need to hibernate. But I need more than three days to do so.

Just gimme a break.

A real one.

Not something dorky and contrived.

Date Delays and Weather Woes

So much for my sweet date with Spencer.

It has been postponed.

Friday night Bruce and I went out with several other couples from our Sunday school class. We met at the House of Ribs and had a great meal and lots of laughs. Despite it being cold enough outside to consider staying home and roasting by the fireplace.

When we got to my in-laws' house to pick up the kids, Bruce talked to his dad for nearly 45 minutes. By the time we got home and had the kids tucked in bed, it was almost 11 p.m. Our kids are normally in bed between 8 p.m. and 9 p.m. So even though I had my alarm set to get up and get ready for my breakfast date with Spencer, I couldn't bring myself to wake him up.

Instead, we all slept in. A little bit anyway. We still got up to go to their basketball games.

Spencer wasn't too happy about not having his date with me, but we planned istead to go before church this morning.

That was not to be either. Before we went to bed last night, Bruce looked outside and saw sleet coming down.

Again, I had my alarm set for early this morning. But after checking the outdoor thermometer and the Weather Channel, I hit snooze a few more times.

When Spencer came in our room 20 minutes later, I told him we'd have to wait for our date. He asked if we could go at lunch. I agreed, but he changed his mind. He is jonesing for breakfast at Golden Corral. So that's where we'll be next Saturday morning.

I think. We'll see what God has planned.

Our driveway is a sheet of ice right now. Sunday school and the early service of church have been cancelled. Bruce is going to the second service, because he is running the sound.

But I'm staying home with the kids. Allison has been barking coughs all week long and it sounds pretty grotesque this morning.

There's no school tomorrow, so we'll tuck in and stay home then, too. Hopefully, by Tuesday, she'll be all better. And maybe nobody else will catch this funk either.

There are some things that even snow, sleet and hail can't prevent, and I'm not talking about mail delivery. I have to do a Wal-mart run today.

There's no milk in the house. And our coffee maker died this morning.

I'm not sure which is more of an emergency.

The coffee maker, I think.

Back to Back Dates

It is nasty cold outside.

But that's not keeping us in this evening. Bruce and I have a date. Not a solo date; one with our Sunday school class. But a date is a date is a date.

And tomorrow I have a date with Spencer. For breakfast at McDonald's, bright and early, because we have to be at the church gym for Upwards basketball a little before 9 a.m.

Spencer and I have been butting heads in a major way these last few days. He blames me. I blame Kevin Leman, author of Have a New Kid By Friday.

It's taking me longer than a week to read this book. And I have a feeling I'll go back to it again and again.

But poor Spencer is suffering. Because of stuff like this (from Leman's book): "An unhappy child is a healthy child.... If you're happy and everything is going well, are you motivated to change? It's when things aren't going well that you start evaluating.... That same thinking is true for your child. When a child is unhappy (it could be because of something she has done wrong or simply the fact that you are not heeding her wishes), she's motivated to do something different."

Spencer has been very healthy this last week. Not happy so much.

There have been a lot of tears in our house this last week. Some his, some mine.

During one of our "after the storm" talks, Spencer asked if we could have a date, because "when it's just you and me, we get to really talk."

You can bet that's a date I'll be keeping!

My mother made it safely back to Germany. I called her this morning, expecting to reach her husband and that she'd be napping. Instead she answered and said she'd been home for only 10 minutes.

Her last flight from Frankfurt to her hometown was a no-show. The plane simply didn't come.

The same thing happened on her flight from Germany to here, but the airport accommodated everyone by sending them in a taxi drive for four hours to the Frankfurt airport.

Mom opted out of that choice this time and instead took a flight to another town an hour and a half from her home.

All that makes me a little less eager to plan our next trip to visit her in Germany.

Still, I always breathe a little easier once she's back safely.

Christmas, Belatedly

Even though it was only two weeks ago, Christmas seems so far away.

Wal-mart is already much more sane, with less crowding and no gift shoppers. And the conversation hearts and boxed chocolates are stacked on shelves awaiting Valentine's Day.

We had a great holiday season. Much of it went by in a slow blur, which is actually good because it means there was no stress marking the days.

Christmas morning we spent at home, opening gifts with the kids. Here they are before we let them come down the stairs to see what Santa had left. I love their expressions.



There were craft items and art projects, books, electronic toys and games for the kids, and some DVDs.

But Santa made a little error in judgment... two out of three of those movies are now sitting on a back shelf until my kids are older. There is something seriously wrong with the PG rating! And forget the claim on the front of the box about the movie being a "family" movie. We got 20 minutes into one and, four cuss words and a reference to "getting l**d" later, that one was deemed unfit for our Moody viewers. The other one got dinged for having the phrase "p***ed off" in it.

Yes, I know they'll hear all that at school eventually anyway, but I'm not going to be the one shoveling it in my babies. Lesson learned: always check with Plugged In before buying movies.

Bruce and I originally said we were not going to exchange gifts between the two of us. We pretty much buy anything we want (that we can afford) whenever we want it. And Christmastime isn't a better time for buying stuff we can't afford than any other time of year.

But then Bruce said he was going to get me something little, which he did. Two things I wanted.

This book.

And this CD.



I got razzed for buying him a magazine. However, in my defense, I did much research, and it wasn't a thoughtless gift. And it cost the same as a book. So there! It's a specialty magazine that focuses on digital photography and Photoshop.

And for the record (I'm still defending myself here for lame gift giving), I stuff my own stocking every year so the kids won't think I've been naughty. Because Santa Bruce can't ever remember to buy me small stuff to put in my stocking. I feel vindicated!

Here's what was in my stocking.

Santa does so love me!

Anyhoo. Since then, we've both bought other stuff that we wanted, and trust me when I say his Christmas gift to himself was much pricier than what I bought myself.

Bruce picked out a new flash for his beefy camera. (Ka-ching!)

I got a set of flannel sheets for our bed and a folding clothing rack to dry clothes on indoors.

I am so boring, I know. But I'm using both like crazy and I am thrilled with them.

At lunchtime on Christmas, we went to the Moody's house and all of the family was in. Good food. Good times.

The next day, we traveled to Cookeville to have a late gathering with my family. My younger brother had picked up my mom at the airport in Oklahoma City a week beforehand and they had spent their time together prior to arriving in Cookeville. Then they traveled to Tennessee.

My family had literally only 24-hours with my younger brother's family. But it was good time.

Here's a picture of my 90-year-old grandpa with all his great-grandchildren.

And my mom with all her grandkids.



When my brother and his family hit the road to head back to Oklahoma, we came back home with my mom in tow. It only hit me after the fact that we never took any pictures of just mom and her three kids - my brothers and me. Or of my dad and his kids or grandkids, for that matter. Maybe next time.

I am so happy to say that there were very few things penciled in on our calendar during the days that mom was here. We had no place we had to be. Nothing in particular we had to do. Just the way family time should be.

Not that we sat around doing nothing.

We shopped several times during those 12 days. Mom and the kids played all kinds of games, which is what my kids enjoy the most about visits with Oma.

Mom crocheted Allison's doll a closet full of new clothes. We baked several batches of cookies, which might be Bruce's favorite thing about my mom's visits.

We went out to eat four times: once to Salsarita's, once at Panera Bread and twice to Tomy Thai's. Mom and I go solo to Tomy Thai's, because Bruce doesn't eat any kind of Oriental food.

Mom also oversaw the momentous occasion of me pulling out my sewing machine again. I insisted as a newlywed that I had to have one, so Bruce caved to my wishes and bought it.

It's been out of the box four times since then, and not once did any real sewing happen. The first time, mom reminded me how to put thread on a bobbin; the second time I intended to sew, but something was up with the tension and I was in a snit and wouldn't let my technically minded husband fix it for me; the third time was during mom's last visit, when I again intended to sew only to realize that in our last move, the foot of the machine was lost.

This past year I bought a new foot in Knoxville, where the closest dealership is. And about four months later, I found the original foot in the bottom of my sewing basket. And that statement alone speaks volumes about how often I sew by hand.

I am, actually, good at sewing. And I like it. I'm not proficient, but I am picky enough to sew a really straight line, by hand or machine. And if it's not straight, I'm quite efficient with my seam ripper. My two high school home economics teachers would be proud!

Mom watched as I sewed some cucumber green ribbon stripes on my navy blue shower curtain. As soon as that fixer upper house is finished, we'll be painting several rooms in our house, including our bathroom, which will be transformed by a coat of cucumber green. Because I am tired of neutrals, but too scared to do anything dark or dramatic.

Mom and I cleaned a bit both at our house and at the fixer upper house, which is just about finished (You'll hear the Hallelujah Chorus loud and clear when that thing is complete! I'm pretty sure the earth will shake, too. Time might even stand still briefly. I'll post pictures of that soon. Bruce and his dad are going to get some major credit for beautifying that house.)

All of us became addicted to Clay's gift for the Wii, Boom Blox (click on the title to link to a preview). The best game we have for the Wii, in my opinion. Mom and I played until midnight one night, and neither one of us is a night owl! (We didn't even stay up New Year's Eve. Bruce stayed up with the kids, but mom and I petered out by 11 p.m.)

We also watched a bunch of movies after the kids were in bed each night.

And Upwards basketball practice started back at our church in time for mom to watch the kids once. That sounds so mundane, but it's the first time mom has ever seen the kids do any of their sports. And you just can't take that for granted.

School started back, so mom and I joined the kids for lunch a couple of times in the cafeteria. On Wednesday I picked the kids up early, and we skipped church that night as well, so we'd have extra time with mom. I had planned to leave the kids out of school all day, but Spencer had just received his third Perfect Attendance Award this year, and he didn't want to be counted absent.

I asked the kids on Tuesday to think about the one thing they still wanted to do with Oma, the thing they had looked forward to doing with her the most before she arrived. And that's what we planned for Wednesday afternoon.

Clay wanted to play Life with Oma.



Spencer wanted to play Twister.



Allison wanted to play dolls, outfits provided by Oma, of course.



I skipped out on the first week back to Bible Study Fellowship, too. For any other reason, I'd feel like a slug. But my brother's family is considering a trip to Germany in the next year, so I know mom won't likely be back here for at least another year and a half. She plans to come in the summer for her next trip.

And here's a picture of mom and me. I asked Bruce to make one. Just because.

When I was growing up, our hair color was much closer to the same. Alas, our colorists' touches have altered that similarity.

And now we are back to our regularly scheduled life.

It's a good life.

(I was going to say "It's a wonderful life" but I thought that might be a bit over the top!)

My Snow

For all of you out there who think this morning's snow was for you, you're wrong.

That was God's blessing to me and my family. I mean, I'll share it with you, but I'm certain it was meant for me.

Today was the day I drove my mom to Knoxville. We met my older brother, who took Mom back to his family for her remaining week in the states.

Last night, however, the end of her visit became clear to Clay. I knew I'd be a weepy mess today, but I was determined to not deal with it until I was on my return trip from Knoxville. But at tuck-in time last night, Clay was all about missing Oma early. There is nothing that will break down your defenses like seeing your child weep.

I held him and told him I used to cry every time I was separated from my Oma after a great visit when I was growing up. And I said that I'd be crying the next day (today), too.

I told him we'd be getting a camera for our computer so Oma could see them when we call her using Skype. (My mom called her husband back in Germany twice while she was here and we got to see him because they already have a camera on their laptop. So we are already set to see my mom on the computer calls.)

Things went warped from there, because that's just the kind of family we are.

"And, we're trying to plan another trip to Germany to visit Oma," I reminded Clay.

"You said we'd go when I was nine," he said.

Yeah, we said that. Sure did. Three and a half years ago when we returned from our last visit.

"Yes, honey, but we had no idea that tickets would be so expensive now, so we'll see," I said.

And then my son got all political.

"Obama said he was going to fix taxes," he said.

And then I was crying for a completely different reason. We just cracked up!

Not that taxes have anything to do with flights to Germany, but Obama should just know that my son is counting on him to make our next trip happen sooner rather than later.

After tucking everyone in, Bruce and I were downstairs with my mom, talking about the big goodbye the next day (today). We decided to have the kids say goodbye at home and then for me to drive them to school without mom in the van. Then I'd go back to the house and pick her up. But I hated the idea of dropping them off if they were crying.

So that snow this morning? Yeah. Mine.

It bought us an additional two hours this morning with my mom when school was put on a two-hour delay. Bruce decided to go in to work late so he could take the kids to school. And mom and I left about 45 minutes before then. But not before a few more games of Twister.

Crazy snow. Enough to call school to session late, but not enough to make the road to Knoxville impassable.

Ahhh, but there's more.

Yesterday, Spencer went down to the van to search for some missing toy. And he left the light on inside the van. Bruce saw it as he loaded my mom's luggage. (Luggage, which was very heavy, by the way. Mom and I would have had to load that ourselves if Bruce had gone into work on time. But he didn't. Because of my snow.)

Of course, my van's battery was deader than dead.

And if it hadn't been for the snow, I would have found out about the deadness right as I was trying to get the kids to school on time and get back home to leave to meet my brother on time. It wouldn't have been pretty. It would have been stressful. And stress plus a pre-existing emotional state is never good. It's like a pitbull version of PMS.

But Bruce was home and he jumped right on his white horse to save the day. My van had juice in no time flat.

Okay, I think I've made it evident to all that the snow was, in fact, for me. But if you still question my sanity (it's okay... I do so often myself), here is irrefutable proof.

On the way to Knoxville, mom and I saw the greatest view of the mountains coated in snow, but at a certain point below, it was already thawed out. The snow tapered off long before my mom drove off with my brother. I never had concerns about road conditions while driving back alone. But it was still overcast.

And so my great bawling-fest drive home began.

But then all of a sudden, the sun broke out. Almost blinding, except for the fact that by then it was behind me. And the sky turned blue with only a few clouds in the sky.

For all of you out there who think that sun was for you, you're wrong. I needed it in a bad way. And the timing was just too perfect. It was for me.

I'm convinced.

But I'm always willing to share the blessing.