Tanja Lasagna

Field Day Fun

2011-05-19T16:45:00.005-04:00

Today was field day at school. Here's a few pictures from the fun.

Clay's 11th Birthday Party

2011-05-14T16:24:00.010-04:00

We celebrated Clay's upcoming birthday early again this year since his actual birthday is after school is out. I wanted to pare the partying cost down and Clay wanted a slumber party. Perfect combination once I limited the number of friends he could invite to three.

Clay wanted a homemade cake instead of a store bought one, so I made him the chocolate cake with cream cheese icing that he likes so much. And instead of buying a bunch of junk food and trinkets to send home in treat bags, I had Bruce buy and cut a bunch of PVC pipes and organize kits for the kids to make their own marshmallow shooter guns.

The boys played for hours outside with those guns after being briefly distracted by this monster crawdad they found in the creek that runs alongside our yard.

Bruce doesn't know how not to be a kid and join in the fun. But that's part of why I married him!

Clay disappeared inside for a few minutes and then came outside with this taped holster device.

Allison got tired of the shooting and just decided to snack on the ammo.

Walkathon

2011-05-06T15:52:00.014-04:00

The kids' school does a fundraising walkathon once a year. Sometimes I make it up there and join in; other times I don't.

This year I planned to go, but I had a dual mission. To walk, of course. But also to snap some pictures to be used in a DVD presentation during the school's fifth grade graduation ceremony a few weeks later. So I walked with all three kids but then had lunch with Clay and the fifth graders to get more pictures. Because, really, isn't the best time for pictures when kids are laughing with their mouths full?

Here's Spencer and Eli, who is Allison's "boyfriend". Two little red heads!

Spencer and his buddy Kevin.

Spencer and "that man teacher" that he was hoping to have as his teacher all last summer. Spencer couldn't remember his name then, but I'm sure he'll never forget it now after the great year he's had in Mr. Holly's class.

Allison walking near Mrs. Counts, who was Clay's third grade teacher... and his favorite teacher ever so far. Both Spencer and Allison had high hopes of having Mrs. Counts as their third grade teacher but she will be moving to teach second grade next year. When I told Spencer that there was no way he'd have Mrs. Counts as his third grade teacher, he said, "Ohhh, but she's my favorite teacher!" I had to remind him that she had never actually been his teacher. Crazy boy!

Here's Allison with her teacher Mrs. Smith. She was Clay's second grade teacher as well and we love her!

The entire fifth grade class. Great bunch of kids.

Clay and his best bud, Joseph.

Time Off for Bruce; Game On for Allison

2011-04-29T15:19:00.014-04:00

I'm going to try to catch up on the blog. Which means posting a lot of pictures. Here goes.

Clay's fifth grade program was today. Bruce took off work since this is Clay's last year in elementary school. Here's my fella looking ever so cool.

After the program, Bruce and Clay took off for some father/son time. Clay played model to Bruce's photographer.

Allison loves volleyball evidently. I like it because it's a sport with a short season. Only six weeks of disrupted family dinners... YAY!

Showing some sass. Yep. That's my girl.

Ouch! Ball must not have gone over the net.

Success comes later though...

Washington D.C. Spring Break

2011-04-12T19:46:00.056-04:00

Because life is busy near the end of the school year and I'm already feeling that time crunch, I'll be allowing my boys to give the low down on our Spring Break trip to Washington D.C. It was a last minute trip because the weather locally wasn't looking too good for camping. Well, the weather wasn't much better in D.C., but there you go. You do what you've got to do to have family time.

Here's Clay's take on the break.

My trip to WASHINGTON D.C.
March 31, 2011
Today was my first day in Washington D.C. First we imediatly went to the air and space museum in Chantilly, VA.

It was one of the Smithsonions. The last flown S-R 71 Blackbird was there. It was so cool!

We also went to the Arlington National Cemetary. We watched the "Changing of the guards. A time were soldiers change guarding the "Tomb of the Uknown."

Nobody can talk. Two boys were called down because they were talking. The soldiers kind of scared me. They has a very deep voice.

Today was so cool. The Air and Space Museum was awesome and the cemetary made me feel glad that I live in a country that treats those who died fighting for our freedom with great respect.

John F. Kennedy is also burried there. This trip so far is making me feel even prouder about living in the great USA.

April 1, 2011
Day 2 in the District of Colombia. We went to the National Mall today. We went to the National Museum of Natural History, another Smithsonion.

Allison posing with some crochet coral.

Spencer with the real thing.

We also went to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. We watched them make paper money.

Then we went to a Holocaust museum. Very sad.

We also went to the Newseam. Its a museam about news.

Mom's favorite quote from her journalism classes in college.

Clay in front of a section of the Berlin Wall.

I relized today that I will never understand public art. Here's some examples:

(He drew some cubes and other geometric shapes.)

See it's just crazy no offense to sculptors but I don't see what it symbolizes.

April 2, 2011
This is my 3rd and last full day in D.C. Today was good. We finished the Newseum...

The bathroom walls included tiles of newspaper corrections or other headline errors like the one above.

Mom's prerogative to include the quote above, too, because it's just too true. Even though at the time I complained about the low pay and long hours, newspaper journalism was my favorite job - next to being a mom.

The pictures below were taken while the kids recorded segments of themselves pretending to be television news anchors. They loved that part!

... and did the National Gallary of Art. There are lots of nude sculptures. Oh and tip for future if your looking for "Mona Lisa" by Leonardo Da Vinci, it's in France... Paris to be exact. Not in ANY Smithsonian.

We also did lots of monuments and memorials, but before we could it started raining then it turned to hail. Then right on que... thumder and lightning.

Once it stopped we went to the Washington Monument. This is the goofiest saying in the world but "I touched it! I touched the Washington Monument.

Then the next thing was the WWII Memorial. It was big and pretty.

there was a wall with stars and each star represented 100 dead US soldiers IN ACTTION. There were 4048 stars. So that means 4048 X 100 = 404,800. But really dead, POWs, and MIAs totaled 405,399.

We would have seen the reflection pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial but they were doing work on it. So next was the Vietnam Memorial. It's a huge wall with names of MIAs, POWs and dead.

Next was the Lincoln Memorial. Abe was huge! He was about 5 X my height!

But last but not least was the Korean War Memorial. It was statues of soldiers from that era. they were kind of in a battle field.

April 3, 2011
Today we left but before we got out of D.C. we went to the Iwo Jima Memorial. It was big!

I loved the trip to Washington D.C. I mean my brother and sister may have complained there socks off because "I'm bored its just some museams" "I'm tired" you know. But I was and I quote "the best behaved of all." But hey the trip was AWESOME. As one of the signs said in Union Station: "I luv D.C."

Well, this is Clay from Washington D.C. signing off.

And here's what Spencer wrote. (By the way, I didn't ask the boys to do a journal. They just did.)

Washington
by Spencer

I got there after 6 hours of driveing non stop it was like 700 miles eventuly I notest that we had been driveing for like four hours so I told mom why did we have to go on this dumb trip

when i got to washington I was exited the next day we had walked like 10 miles so I told mom I hate this trip.

We went to the musem (the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum) I swer it should have been vilont there was blod There was starved pepole. It was scary.

A few days later we went to a newsem. It was about a meusem about news It was fun I cep on waiting to go to the neseums 4D movie it had wind it was awsome I loved it we got to see a movie about the twin towers colison I cep on asking if we could go to the Washington monyoument

the day befor we went to a place that had relly good food. (Panera Bread.)

Here are a few more pictures that I liked.

This first one could have been taken anywhere, but just happened to be taken at our hotel one night after the kids were worn out! It's not every day anymore that my younger two will hold hands.

The cherry blossom festival was going strong while we were there and the blooms were at peak. Terrible for allergy sufferers, but beautiful just the same. The Jefferson Monument is barely visible in the background of this last picture.

Two Times

2011-03-26T08:22:00.002-04:00

I always look at the kids' papers when they come home from school each day. This week Spencer brought home a page that had a story on one side and on the other side were questions about the story: three multiple choice and two that needed to be answered in sentences written by the student.

I didn't read the story. I just wanted to see if the sentences Spencer wrote were written well. If he was misspelling words that he should know because they were previous spelling words. If he was remembering to capitalize at the beginning and punctuate at the end.

The last question and his answer got my attention.

The question: "Do you think Sandra will break the rules again? Explain."

His answer: "Well becuse she got punish she probbly do it one more time then shell follow the ruls."

I showed Bruce later. He called Spencer in and asked him about his answer.

With a very serious facial expression, Spencer explained.

"Well, you guys probably know this. Because you were kids. Once. So when you get in trouble and get a spanking, you'll probably do it one more time. Because you forget. Then you won't do it again after you get a second spanking."

Finally. An explanation. I understand Spencer better now.

Wise Beyond Her Years

2011-03-09T18:41:00.002-05:00

Allison already has bras figured out.

A few weeks ago she asked me when she was going to get to start wearing bras. As we have a couple of training bras that were handed down to us by a friend with an older daughter, I told Allison she could wear one whenever she wanted.

We went upstairs to try them on. They all fit, so when we picked out her clothes for the next day, she picked the one she liked best and we put it with the clothes.

But the next morning she came downstairs dressed, but with no training bra on underneath.

She decided against wearing it.

Works for me. She obviously doesn't need one just yet anyway.

Just now she was watching a show and bras were mentioned.

"What's to understand about bras?" she said. "You put one on, it's uncomfortable, you wear it all day and when you get home, you want to take it off."

Yep. She's got them all figured out.

I'm the Mom! Hear me Roar!

2011-03-07T18:51:00.004-05:00

It's been forever since I blogged. I wasn't even sure I remembered how to log in. By now, I'm pretty sure the only person who will check in here is my mom. Which is likely why I feel safe blogging my current issue. I'll be venting. Starting now...

I do not like my Clay's homeroom teacher. Shhhhh! It's really important he not know that.

But my husband knows it. Yeah. He's heard it a lot this year.

I put it mostly down to a personality conflict. Seriously, I think she's passionate about her subject and a good teacher in that subject. I do not think she is a good homeroom teacher for my son.

She has this opinion of my son that isn't correct. And that really ticks me off.

Evidently, she thinks when he complains that he doesn't feel well, that he's faking it and just wants to get out of school. Clay has never been that kind of kid. He actually likes school.

Plus, he's a smart kid. And I'm not bragging. He actually baffles me with how smart he tests, because both Bruce and I weren't exceptional students. But Clay is. And other than talking too much in class (THAT he gets from me), he's a well behaved student.

I guess this is the first time I think an adult might actually dislike my son. And I don't get it. So it irritates me.

But that's all side issue.

Clay has not felt well for a few weeks now. Back in January I took him for a strep test that came back negative. He was still given some antibiotics and he felt a bit better after a few days.

A few weeks later, Spencer and Allison were treated for strep.

A week later, Clay complained about a sore throat. By then my throat and eyes had been itching for a week, so I put his symptoms off to early seasonal allergies. We're usually hit with allergies around the same time each year.

Then came his headache.

I sent a note to school for his teacher on a Thursday, asking her to allow him to call me once instructional time was over if he still felt ill. He is finished with math, reading, science and social studies by 1:40 p.m. each day. After that, he has recess and related arts (library, music, art, PE). It's a big deal right now for him to have me pick him up because his little girlfriend rides the same school bus. The very fact that he would give up time with her on the bus ride home in favor of mom picking him up is indicative of how badly he would have to be feeling.

But I didn't hear from him that Thursday and when he got home from school, he was pretty much the same. He asked to stay home the next day. Well, he had five tests. And no fever. Still only a sore throat and a head ache. So I sent him to school and told him to call me after instruction time.

I never heard from him. I figured he'd bounced back and was feeling better.

Still, I went up to the school about 20 minutes before classes were over for the day to see if he wanted to drive home with me and Spencer and Allison. I found him in the gym. Sitting out of class.

As soon as he saw me, he walked over looking pitiful and said he wanted to go home "right now". I was surprised and asked, "You're feeling worse?" He said he was. So I asked why he hadn't called me earlier.

"My teacher wouldn't let me," he said.

And that's when I started getting really mad.

Later that night, after three hours spent at the Urgent Care Clinic to get a positive strep culture result, I was even madder.

I told Bruce I felt like she held my sick kid hostage at the school because she deemed him well enough to make it through the day. That's not her job. That's mine. I'm the mom! I'm the one who knew we'd just been through two cases of strep. She didn't know that.

Here we are a little more than a week later and Clay is still feeling ill. Same complaints. Sore throat and headache. But he's fatigued and lightheaded now, too. Still no fever. I sent him to school today with instructions to call me at 1:40 if he feels worse.

Meanwhile, Allison had been sick Saturday night, so she and I stayed home from church yesterday. No more vomiting though, so I planned to send her to school this morning. But her belly was pretty empty. And often when that happens to my kids, they get nauseated. It's a vicious cycle. So I brought her back home with me after dropping the boys off at school.

After a few hours of eating small bits of food every 45 minutes, she felt better and wanted to go to school. When I took her, I checked in with Clay. No surprise, he wanted to come home. But I told him I wanted him to make it through the day. He asked me to reiterate to his teacher that he be allowed to call me later to get him if necessary.

I did so. And during that conversation I let it be known that Clay's siblings had had strep the week before his last case of strep... when she didn't let him call me to get him. And I let her know that his sister had been sick this past Saturday.

You know I got a phone call at 1:40 p.m., right?

So I picked Clay up. And he's pretty much moped on the couch all day. Tomorrow, I have an appointment to have his blood drawn and have him checked for mono, because it is just one of about five yucky things going around at his school.

But before she let him call me, she felt the need to tell him she has noticed that he always wants to call home right before related arts. Well, duh! He's doing what his mother tells him to do. But she also pointed out that he gets a grade in those classes as well.

I told Clay not to worry about it. When he goes off to college, nobody is going to care what his report card showed for PE in fifth grade.

My kids get plenty of physical education. They also regularly visit the local library. We've had them in either church choir or in piano or guitar lessons since they were about three years old. Art? Yeah, I'll give you that, because I've got nothing there but what they're getting at school.

But ultimately, that is our call as well. If Bruce and I are okay with our kids getting their instruction time when they feel poorly (but aren't exhibiting symptoms that make us think they are contagious and should be home) and missing recess or related arts, that's our business. Not a homeroom teacher's.

We're the parents!

I'm the Mom.

I'm done roaring.

For now.

Birthday Bests

2010-10-09T09:55:00.000-04:00

So I had another birthday recently. And I've decided there are some great things about getting older. Other than just breathing some more and continuing to spend time with the people I love most on this earth.

For one thing, I'm now at that age where I realize that I could be a grandmother without any scandalously young childbearing going on. This realization did not come gently though.

A few weeks ago I was shopping in Wal-mart and my oldest son called me on my cell.

"Great-grandpa called," Clay said.

"He did?" I asked. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn't pick up the phone, but caller ID showed it was him," he said.

(My kids aren't allowed to answer the phone unless caller ID shows a family member's name.)

"You could have picked up and talked to him," I reminded Clay.

"Yea, but THEN I WOULD HAVE HAD TO TALK LIKE THIS!" he shouted in my ear.

I laughed. "Yes, but that's just how you have to talk for him to hear you. Do you want to call him back?" I asked.

"Nah, I'll let you when you get home," Clay said.

"Okay, sweetie. Thanks for telling me. I'll see you soon. Love you, bye."

End of phone call. I pushed my buggy a little farther before this woman walked up from behind me and said something, but all I caught were the words "sweet" and "grandson". I asked her to repeat what she'd said.

"Oh," she said, "I was just commenting on the sweet phone call you just had with your grandson."

My WHAT??!

By then she was beside me and she started to get flustered.

"Well," she continued, trying to back peddle quickly, "now I'm up closer to you and I see you aren't old enough to be a grandma."

She was embarrassed. And I hate to see that.

"Actually, that was my oldest son. BUT I am old enough to be a grandma," I said. "One of my best friends from high school is a new grandma."

She was off the hook and we continued with general chit-chat a few more minutes. I could have let her comment fester a little bit, but I chose not to. She could have been witness to a not-so-nice conversation between me and my son, so I was just glad she heard us on a good day. I focused on the positive.

See, at 41, I'm mature enough to not let little things bother me anymore. I'm also more of a realist.

So I went to the toiletries section and bought a new box of hair color.

The other great thing about turning another year older is that you can let some dreams go. And see that you are better for it.

I used to always think it'd be a great thing to be, um, more fully endowed at, er, certain places on my body.

I'm not against plastic surgery. In fact, even though I don't routinely spend mega bucks on myself, for my two previous birthdays, I did a couple of things that qualify as cosmetic procedures. And I did it just for me.

I had LASIK surgery when I turned 39. And when the big 4-0 hit, this needle freak voluntarily let someone poke a needle filled with who-knows-exactly-what continuously into whatever spider veins they came across on my legs.

I've also dreamed of having a tummy tuck pretty much since the day my twins were delivered eight years ago. I never had a single stretch mark from my first pregnancy, but twins did my belly in. So when I read awhile back that they can suck the fat off your belly and deposit it straight into your breasts, I thought, "Hey, now that's for me! Nothing fake shoved up in there. All me. Just repositioned."

Seriously... what took doctors so long to figure out that stroke of genius?!

So I started dreaming with a bit more consideration. How much would that cost? How much would that hurt? How long would I have to flinch every time my kids came to me for a hug if both my belly and chest were recovering from surgery?

And then I had a mammogram.

And it came back with "iffy" results.

So I had a repeat mammogram.

And it came back with clear results.

And then I decided that if this mammogram thing was going to be an annual thing, sometimes with repeats... well, then, hey - size DOES matter. And it's better to be smaller!!

So that dream died. And I'll happily lay it to rest.

That tummy tuck thing, though... that might still be a "go". It took me lots of years to work up the courage and save the dough for LASIK. It'll take longer if I ever work up to a tummy tuck simply because I'd have to have general anaesthesia. And that's a greater fear for me than needles.

But, probably by the time I work up the courage to do it and have the money to do it, it won't matter so much. Every other part of my body will be sagging then, too. And I'll be mature enough to handle it then.

Yeah, this getting old thing isn't too rotten.

For now.

Toy Fight

2010-09-28T17:22:00.003-04:00

I picked up the kids from school today because Clay had an appointment for a haircut immediately after school. Picking up my kids is like a comedy of errors.

They're all spread out in different classes, the younger ones are in a completely separate wing than the older one, just about as far apart as they could be without leaving the premises. The older one has his related arts classes right before dismissal so I never know where exactly he'll be. Just as soon as they all were gathered together near the front door, Clay said he had to go to the bathroom.

Since we were right beside the boy's bathroom, I told him to go ahead. Then Spencer said he had to go to the bathroom, but not before he snatched some toy that Allison had received from a classmate. A silly little plastic lock of some kind. Which Spencer then took hostage on his sojourn into the restroom.

Tears welled immediately in Allison's eyes. And Woe Is Me, Act I began.

"He took my toy."

"It's my favorite toy."

"I got it from someone in my class."

"I'll never see it again."

Clay had returned from the bathroom by then but a glance at my watch confirmed we were running late. And my boy has been sporting a Shag for quite some time. This haircut was necessary!

I was losing patience. What was taking Spencer so long? Why can't these boys hold their bladders for the duration of a 10-minute drive across town? Can my girl possibly whine any louder?

Finally, I bent over and looked into Allison's eyes.

"Allison, Spencer does these things to bug you. When you react, he wins. Quit crying. I'll make him return it when he gets out of the bathroom."

She was not convinced.

"He'll lose it!"

Big deal, I'm thinking. It's probably the cheapest thing that the dollar store sells.

"Well, if he loses it, Allison, I'll make him buy you a new one."

Still, she was not convinced. Because of one small detail.

"Mom, how can you make him buy me a new one? It said it was Made In China!"

Needless to say, we are not planning any trips to China.

The toy has been returned to its rightful owner.

Apologies have been made.

All is forgiven.

Except for maybe the fact that I laughed in my weeping daughter's face. That wasn't a shining moment of motherhood.

Peace and Quiet

2010-09-26T18:59:00.002-04:00

A short conversation with Spencer just now went like this:

Spencer: Mom, you know that tomorrow is a school day, don't you?

Me: Yes. Isn't it great?!

Spencer: Yes. I mean, no.

Me: What? What's not great about school tomorrow?

Spencer: It's great for you.

Me: Why is it great for me and not for you?

Spencer: You get peace and quiet.

"Hmmmm," I think to myself. "I am so busted! My kid knows why I love school days. It's quiet at home. No fighting children. No squealing car noises coming from the boys as they wreck cars. No tattling siblings.

"But I don't want him, or any of them, to think I don't miss them. Or that I don't love being their mom. Or that I don't enjoy spending time with them.

"What do I say now??"

Obviously, I was over thinking, as I am prone to do.

Because this is what was said next...

Spencer: You don't have to hear the teachers talking all day.

Oh. Yeah. THAT kind of peace and quiet.

Shew!

The Beast

2010-09-18T10:28:00.013-04:00

Spencer is playing flag football again this year, his second year after taking a year off last year. He really wants to play tackle football. He definitely has the attitude, I'm just not convinced he has the body type. He's a skinny minny. Muscular as can be, but a lightweight for certain.

Next year he can play either flag or tackle football, but I am hoping he'll choose another year of flag before he goes for tackle.

His team is not faring very well. But it's certainly not because of lack of effort on Spencer's part.

This weekend, the game announcer even dubbed Spencer a "defensive beast". And he was. I can't even remember how many flags he pulled off of the opposing team players. But I vividly recall exactly how he looks when it happens.

First, he concentrates.

Then he watches the person with the ball.

He reaches for their flag (he's behind the official, but you can see his hand almost to the flag on the left).

He gets the flag and holds it up like he's a fisherman with his prized catch.

It takes him a couple of seconds to relinquish the flag.

It's really a joy to see, and I'm not even a huge football fan. But he is. So I am. For him.

He also scored at least one touchdown.

But I don't think he knew exactly where he was supposed to stop, because he kept on running well past the area.

Good times!

Dead and Gone

2010-09-17T20:27:00.002-04:00

I have to follow-up on my last post.

The cricket is dead.

Peace now reigns in our home.

Well, except for when the kids are home from school. Before they fall asleep at night.

But at least we're all having an easier time falling asleep again.

Here's the kicker: Jiminy's death was entirely accidental. I don't know who gets the credit.

I had been to the local Wal-mart to buy some Borax, but they were sold out. I called Bruce and asked him to check at the one near his work on his way home. Also sold out.

Ironically, that night, the chirping ceased.

The next day, I accidentally discovered why. While opening our downstairs door to the garage, I saw something black near the bottom hinge. Something kind of spikey. And crunchy looking.

Mr. Amore evidently sang his last love song and when no love interest appeared on the horizon, he came out of his hiding place behind our drywall, and crawled right into the door crack at just the wrong time.

I told you it was bad luck to mess with the Moody people's sleep.

Bad Luck

2010-09-14T10:02:00.004-04:00

Back in college I had a favorite journalism professor who walked into class one day with stitches. Journalism classes are a bit more relaxed than some other classes, an English Composition class, for instance. We students felt free enough to ask Mr. Stubblefield what happened to him to produce the stitches.

Turns out he killed a cricket. Which in some cultures is considered bad luck.

Evidently, a cricket got into my prof's home, and in his efforts to whack the bug, Mr. Stubblefield ended up injuring himself.

I remembered all this last night as I lay in bed listening to the incessant chirping of a cricket. An unwelcome guest in our home. One who has outstayed his welcome by about two weeks now.

Last week Spencer complained that the cricket's song was disturbing his sleep, but I figured that was all pish posh. I mean, seriously... a thorough nocturnal sweep of our home done by my husband determined that said cricket is indeed in the basement. One flight of stairs up is our living room, dining room, kitchen, half bath and den. We started shutting the door at the top of the stairs when the love-starved cricket's mating call disrupted our TiVo time in the den.

How, then, could my child hear the chirping when all our bedrooms are an entire floor above the main floor? Two floors away from the cricket?

So much for being a doubting Thomas.

Crickets don't normally bother me, so I don't normally kill them. I can even remember playing with the black field crickets when I was a kid (which I'm sure was an idea pitched by one of my brothers).

I do, however, become completely unglued at the sight of a camel cricket. They're gross. A face not even a mother can love, I'm sure, which is a pointless consideration because I'm positive the critters are blind. What other insect jumps right at you as you are trying to get away from it? Freaks! (Don't tell me spiders. Most of the time they're not jumping at you, but are simply caught in their own webs and are along for the ride as you hop, skip, jump and screech while trying to escape.)

But anyway, camel crickets don't chirp (found that out online). Coincidentally, this is more proof in my mind that they are blind. They don't even need to cut to a love song to attract a mate. They know they're ugly but because all their possible girlfriends are also ugly AND blind, none of them care. Why bother strumming a sensual tune if that's the best offer you're gonna get? Save your energy for hopping directly at the mother of the house the next time she's downstairs to get milk out of the extra fridge. Then tell all your possible conquests how high you made the mom jump, how fast you made her run and at what decibel you made her scream. Now that's the stuff you impress a female camel cricket with! If evolution were true, I'd expect that one day a camel cricket would be born with eyesight and thus ensure the extinction of the species.

Back to my cricket chirping problem.

I lost probably 20 minutes of much-needed sleep last night thanks to some dopey, puppy-dog-eyed cricket who just needs some lovin'.

Hear me now, Mr, Cricket: I am not sympathetic to your plight. Get a room! Preferably one of your own. Outside of my house. My home is not your bachelor pad! And the only safe sex you'll be having is going to be outside of my house.

Because while some people may think it's bad luck to kill crickets, I'm not one of 'em.

Let me tell you about bad luck.

It's bad luck to keep the Moody people from their sleep!!

Death to all crickets!

Camping and Crafting

2010-09-06T20:12:00.004-04:00

Just back from another camping trip to Deer Run RV Park in Crossville. We really enjoy that place. I think this was our fourth or fifth stay. It was definitely the most crowded visit we've had. And even though I do not like crowds, it still felt... um, not so crowded.

Not too many pictures to post. When we go to this campground, we really don't plan much running around off site, except for a visit down to Cookeville to see my grandpa, dad and brother (and his family). Maybe that's the thing I like best about our stays there... it's real down time!

The campground did have some craft time planned for the kids because of Labor Day weekend.

They all made this God's Eye craft:

Allison also did this craft:

No crafty picture of Spencer. Instead I give you this:

The fishing poles had no hooks, but Bruce told the kids they could play with them anyway. Some time AFTER they got the okay but BEFORE Bruce regretted it (he was spitting mad once he had to take apart each pole to fix the jammed up fishing lines), Spencer runs up to us with fish in hand.

Sure, it's small. But he caught that thing with his own hands! No hook!

I even asked him if the fish was floating when he found it. Nope. The fish struggled after being pulled from the water.

Still, it was probably sick or something. I mean, Spencer's fast, but that fast? I have my doubts.

Whatever! It made Spencer's day.

And you can't argue with that.

Spencer and Allison's 8th Birthday Party

2010-08-28T19:52:00.017-04:00

Yesterday we had Spencer and Allison's birthday party. Eight years old. It sure doesn't seem like it's been that long.

We actually held them off from opening their gifts until shortly before the party... three days after their actual birthday. Sadly, the delay was solely because we have run too much the last week, from event to event and literally had no time to celebrate. SO lame!

Pay no attention to the wilting peace lily. I always forget to water that thing.

Clay, taking after his daddy, camera in hand.

For the first time (and maybe the last!) we bought separate cakes for them both. They were actually cupcake cakes, which equalled a total of four dozen cupcakes. And that's a lot of cupcakes! Precisely why that may never happen again.

That's a kitty on Allison's cake. In case you can't tell. Because to me, the picture makes it look like just a fur ball.

One last picture. Regardless of whose birthday it is, I always invite at least one friend for each of my other kids to play with. I started that to keep my younger two out of Clay's hair during his parties, but turnabout is fair play and all that.

Here's Clay and his good friend Joseph.

Summer Haze

2010-07-22T11:00:00.013-04:00

I have been negligent.

My poor blog is starved for time and attention.

Well, so are my fish, so at least the blog is in good company.

But it's time to feed the blog.

I just have no idea where the time went this summer. The kids will be back in school in a little more than two weeks, and I feel like we've just settled in to summer break.

The first part of summer was spent visiting my mom in Germany. I generally post pictures mostly for my mom, and she was with us during the whole trip and has copies of the best pictures, so she's covered.

But I'll post a couple here.

Here's my Oma's house. It doesn't belong to her anymore now that she's in a nursing home, but we went by to visit the house anyway. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. The house looked happy to me, which sounds silly, and is, but there you have it.

I humored Bruce with the next one. If you're eating lunch, blame him.

Spencer was easier to convince.

Have no fear. No snails were actually harmed in the taking of the above pictures. Ack! I'd never eat one of those nasty things.

Me and my mom.

Mom flew home with the kids and me, since Bruce left a week earlier to get back to work. Then my brothers and I played the Mom Shuffle for a few weeks so we each had time with her at our homes.

During her time with us, we chilled. Ate Chinese food during lunch time while Bruce was at work so he wouldn't have to partake. Took a couple of evening strolls at both a nearby state park and a walking trail. Baked a few batches of cookies. Did some gardening. Introduced mom to both "The Office" and "Losing It With Jillian," neither of which impressed her appropriately. Mom even subjected herself to various games with the kids, including Clue, Monopoly, Yahtzee and Boom Blox.

And once she returned to Germany, I found myself in a funk. Typical fare following time with my mother, because it's never long enough.

But life invades my haze. Summer goes on.

Other summer activities for us were:
- hauling the kids to VBS and swimming lessons in the same week

- engaging in an ongoing indoor battle with ants, which I continually think I've won only to discover that "Oh yeah, I have three kids, and my floors will never remain entirely food free for even one solid 24-hour period, thus ensuring an ant buffet pretty much constantly." I talk to the ants when they visit. It's not pleasantries. They are the devil's spawn.

- keeping up with our first family garden ever and realizing that the horse manure fertilize we dumped on the garden before planting seeds might have been too much of a good thing. We've been sharing zucchini, cucumbers, squash and tomatoes with pretty much anybody I can accost without being arrested.

- getting a new heat pump installed, fortunately not because ours died, but because they are newly developed units that need testing. We're willing guinea pigs. Of all the men I could have married (that sounds like I had more than one offer!), God could not have chosen more perfectly for me than in hooking me up with an engineer whose job is in the heating and cooling business. In this summer's 90 degree heat, I am loving my AC. Oh, and my husband. Who keeps me in the chill zone.

- camping. Actually only once so far. But we have another trip coming up. And so far, we've remained tick and injury free. That's all it takes for me to consider camping a success.

- visiting doctors. Orthodontist consultations for our twins. Dermatologist. And after seeing our family doctor, a clinic doctor (twice), a podiatrist, and an orthopedic surgeon to figure out what's up with my foot, I was finally told to stop running. Which makes me mad. But I'm trying to look at the bright side... it's really hot outside. And I can't strap the heat pump to my back. Plus, I'm going to see a physical therapist... who is a runner and was into track when she was younger. I miss running. I really do. So I signed Bruce and Clay up for the same running training program I did. I'll live vicariously through them for awhile and maybe be back to running in the fall. When it's a more livable temperature outside.

- re-staining our deck, which admittedly was done mostly by Bruce. But I did help for a couple of hours one evening. It looks pretty great, too!

- re-accessorizing our master bedroom. After looking half-heartedly for two years, I finally found a quilt Bruce and I both liked, so out with the old and in with a new. But that meant new curtains, too. Some time soon, we'll probably replace the door going out to the little balcony that we never use because it's wasp infested. I am loving the idea of a door with built-in blinds between the panes of glass. Because I detest cleaning blinds. But first, I need to decide on some curtains for the den, which we started re-doing during the past winter. And we've got to replace the French doors in that room with doors with built-in blinds. Because it has been brought to my attention that one cannot properly view the television with the current door/curtain situation. Because the sun shines into the room too brightly and blots out the view of the TV screen. See, it's all about priorities. Watching the TV with a crisp view is rated much higher in importance than looking out a bedroom door to see where the newest wasp's nest has been constructed.

And that's been our summer. Madness first when Bruce took us on a whirlwind tour of Germany, then mundane when household chores kicked in. But all good.

Clay's 10th Birthday Party

2010-05-08T09:46:00.000-04:00

Clay doesn't actually turn 10 for another few weeks, but school is out by then. We've learned to work around vacationing friends by having Clay's party early.

I am not a big party planner. The simpler the better, in my mind.

Clay wanted chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting. And a Nascar themed party.

Done...

We planned to order pizza, so we cut the kids loose to play in the yard until everyone showed up and we could get a head count.

Clay is under this heap somewhere...

Unofficially, the deal in our house is that I'll take care of food and getting the house ready for the party. Bruce provides crowd control and takes care of games. Clay wanted to play Capture the Flag. I have no idea what it's about. But Bruce does. See, this tag team thing works!

I'm not sure if Bruce is explaining the rules of Capture the Flag here, or if he was getting ready to let the kids dive into the bucket full of water balloons. Either way... his job.

Girls opting out of rough play... Kayleigh Ann, Jordan and Ruthie.

Capture the Flag... Team 1... Joseph A., Dylan, Clay, Carson, Amanda and Brayden.

Capture the Flag... Team 2... Allison and Avery, representing the girls, and Michael, Joseph K., Nathan and Spencer, rounding out the posse.

Taking food orders...

This was not planned. My neighbor Rachel noticed it first, so I snapped the picture.

The girls' table...

The boys' table...

I hope that was water, and not ginger ale...

I think they all enjoyed themselves.

E-I, E-I, Oops!

2010-05-03T21:27:00.007-04:00

The entire first grade put on a music show called "E-I, E-I, Oops!"

My kids worked hard on their lines. Actually, Allison did. She'd tell me several times in the weeks leading up to today's show what her line was. And then she'd tell me the extra line she had to memorize, in case a fellow classmate was sick on the day of the music performance. Allison was one of many chicks.

Spencer was the cow. The only cow. And he said it was because his last name is Mooooooooo-dy. He acted like he wasn't very thrilled with being the cow. Up until the day of the performance.

Does this face look upset?

He left his mask off for most of the show. The whole play was about a farm animals, in particular a cow that wouldn't Moo. Right before he finally was convinced to Moo, he slipped his mask on. (That's his teacher beside him. We love Mrs. Jessee!)

Here's our little chick, up in the middle of the top row.

Ohhh, she's concentrating!

Finally, a cow that Moos... but minus the mask again.

4-H Camp Field Trip

2010-04-27T08:55:00.015-04:00

I had to miss chaperoning one of the coolest field trips ever when Clay's grade went to Greenville's Clyde Austin 4-H Center. Spencer was home, sick with strep throat, and I needed to nurse my younger boy.

But Bruce saved the day and took off from work to go along with Clay's class.

Bruce took a bunch of photos. Here are some of my favorites.

Yes, that's our boy. Holding a snake. And smiling at the same time.

Time for some rockets!

Prepping for the canoe ride.

These three ladies are the Fourth Grade teachers who've shaped Clay's mind this school year... Mrs. Calhoun, Mrs. Mains and Mrs. Robinette.

They left home around 7 a.m. and returned around 7 p.m. Both of my older guys were worn out!

Art Show

2010-03-27T08:24:00.006-04:00

The kids' school put on an art show this week, which we didn't attend. Some weeks you just have to pick and choose what's fitting in the schedule and what has to be by-passed.

Still, I have to recognize my kids' work. They love art class.

Here's the art work they did that was selected to grace the walls of their school.

An enjoyment of art might just be the one way my kids are all alike!

Character, Fairness and Voting

2010-03-24T16:22:00.006-04:00

Clay won second place in an essay writing and art work contest at school sponsored by the National Association for Family and Community Education (FCE). Yeah, I'd never heard of them before.

He won $7 and a Character Counts ribbon and bracelet. Plus a Character Counts certificate of achievement from the local county chapter of FCE. Be assured that the seven smackers spoke volumes to my boy. The rest of that stuff is just for me... you know, to put in the keepsake box.

The topic was fairness. Something I'm certain Clay thinks he's an expert on, considering how many times I hear him say, "That's not fair!" Usually as it pertains to some heinous expectation we have of him as the oldest child in the family.

So here's what he wrote:

"I think fairness is being free and equal. Like during segregation the black people didn't get the fairness they deserved. And just think how good it felt when they finaly got the rights the white people had!

"Then there was the time before 1920 women couldn't vote! Our Socail Studys teacher told us that as soon as we turn 18 that she wanted us to sign up to vote. Then finaly in 1920 they got the right to vote. Thats only 89 years ago. See fairness is very important."

Then he drew a nice picture of bathroom doors labelled "White Men" "Black Men" "White Women" and "Black Women". And another segment of his picture showed women, picketing and holding signs saying, "Vote" and "We want to Vote". The stick women have upside down mouths... classic unhappy faces.

Ironically, when I picked up the kids from school today, Clay had a newspaper in hand and was reading a story under the headline: Obama signs historic health care overhaul.

After reading the article, Clay asked me some very smart questions. Tough questions. Things I couldn't answer. (I got a D in my college government class. The first time I took the class. And then I struggled the second time to get a C. And I still don't know how I accomplished that feat. I might be tempted to consider that my finest hour in college... except that I don't really think I learned anything. So there's no pride in it. I refer all political questions to Bruce.)

Watch out Washington... my boy is going to be a force to be reckoned with as a young adult voter!

Immunity

2010-03-22T18:51:00.004-04:00

So, I was freaking out a little bit.

After school today, I had Allison unload the dishwasher while Spencer vacuumed the kitchen floor. Then at supper time, Bruce pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and... well, it was obviously dirty. Yuck!

Upon further inspection, several utensils were pulled out of their drawer... nasty.

What's up with that? I know I ran the dishwasher. And the ick on those dishes would have come off in there. So, after reloading the dishwasher with dirty/clean dishes and their close neighbors (because funk spreads!), I came to the conclusion that Allison must have gotten carried away and put dishes away that were left on the counter after snack time.

Mystery solved.

But the power of suggestion runs strong. And I have a healthy dose of hypochondria inside me, passed down from my paternal grandmother. I think it's genetic.

After supper, my throat started hurting. Just a little bit. Probably sinus issues brought on by allergy issues.

But... what if those kids have been putting up dirty dishes for some time now? What if today wasn't a fluke?

You know, strep is making a comeback at the local elementary school.

Gulp.

Just checking.

Yeah. It still hurt to swallow.

Probably a little bit more than it did the last time I swallowed.

"My throat hurts," I said out loud.

"What?! What do you mean 'your throat hurts'?" Clay asked.

"Well, my throat hurts. Like 'strep throat' hurt. That kind of hurt," I replied.

"How can that be?" he questioned. "Your immunity should be at its highest."

"Really? What does this kid know?" I thought.

Because even though I've been taking my multi vitamin and my calcium supplements, I haven't been drinking orange juice lately to really douse my system with extra vitamin C, which I've heard wards off all kinds of sickly bugs.

And I've had some sporadic sleep recently.

Plus some stress because of my grandpa's health issues.

And even though I started a training program last week to run a 5K by the end of May, I also ate at Chick-fil-A three times within six days, two times within a 24-hour period, because I was visiting my grandpa in Cookeville. And I always eat at the Cookeville Chick-fil-A. It's a family tradition. Kind of. (Well, it could be if we wanted it to be.)

But, you know, Clay reads stuff. He knows some interesting (sometimes boring) little tidbits.

Hmmm... I'll bite...

"Why is my immunity at its highest?" I asked my brain child.

"Because, you're 40," he said. "And you've been building it up for all those years."

And then he tacked on this...

"It's all down hill from here."

I hee-hawed.

Because laughter is the best medicine and I needed to do something quick!

I feel much better now.

But just in case, I'm going to have some hot peppermint tea. That always helps my sore throats.

A Butterfly Thank-You

2010-03-20T16:45:00.005-04:00

I think our girl has been dealing with some test anxiety.

A few weeks ago, the first grade teachers sent home notes explaining that the students would soon be taking Accelerated Reading (AR) tests. Basically, the kids check out certain books within their reading range from the library and once they've read them, they take a short quiz on a computer about the book. Each student has a log sheet so we parents can list the books once they finish reading them and are ready to take the test.

Allison's log already listed her first book. And her test result. A 70.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed that Allison's library books weren't in her backpack. In the interest of not losing school library books or mixing them in with books from home or the local county library, the kids are supposed to leave their school library books in their backpacks. They can take them out to read them, but have to put them back in once they are finished.

But for a little more than a week, Allison wouldn't bring her books home. I asked her about it the first time I noticed their absence, and she said simply that she'd left them in her desk at school. I told her to bring at least one home so we could read it in preparation for the next AR test.

In one ear and right out the other one.

Or so I thought.

Because the next week... still no library book in her backpack.

I asked her about it again and that's when I got the waterworks. As she cried, she explained, "I can't take that test. I'm not ready. I've read the book, but I won't do well on the test. You saw! I failed the first one and I'll never do better."

On a side note, she took AR tests in kindergarten, so I wasn't sure where this was coming from. I thought it was ridiculous. She almost always does great on all her tests.

And since when is a 70 a failing grade?

I took a deep breath and told her, "Allison, you did not fail the AR test. So what if you didn't get a 100? Nobody gets a 100 all the time. And even if you did fail one, this isn't a score that goes toward your report card grade. It's so the teachers and your daddy and I can see how well you remember the details of a story so we can help you if you need help."

Whatever. That did not convince her one bit.

Sometimes my kids get this perfectionist bent and it drives me nuts. Obviously we've instilled it in them somehow, but I wish I realized how so we could stop doing whatever it is.

Finally, I told her that everyone messes up a test at some time. Dad did. Mom did. And even Clay does.

Hmmm... that got her attention. Because she thinks Clay is king of knowledge. Mostly because he spouts of trivia constantly. And since he's close to her age and not ancient like her parents, the possibility of Clay not doing perfect on a test started to make an impression.

While she went to the bathroom, I found Clay and whispered to him what was going on. I asked him his worst AR test, because I couldn't remember. But of course he did. A 60. I asked him if he would tell Allison and then reassure her that she'd do fine on her next test.

When she came out of the bathroom, he told her.

I thought we were over the hurdle, because she brought her books home after the next library visit.

But when I called her into the kitchen after school one day to have her read the book to me, she freaked out again.

"I'll never make a 100!" she said.

"Never" statements burn me up. And I don't have much patience for self doubt in my kids. I think they rock! So they should, too!

I told her, "Allison, you're going to read me that book. And when you are done, I'll go through the book and ask you all kinds of made-up test questions. Anything I can think of from the facts of the book. Let's just see how you do, okay?"

Most weeks, I give the kids practice spelling tests at home the day before their spelling tests in school. This concept was not new to her. So she agreed.

We had fun with the book. She did great reading it. And I asked every silly and serious question I could think of about the book. She nailed every one.

Then I told her, "I bet you get a 100 on that test!"

I volunteer to help the teachers with the students on their AR testing days. It gives me a chance to be around the kids that my children are around every day. You can learn a lot that way. And I don't mean anything about academics!

Allison was the very last student I worked with. And the only thing I said to her that showed special treatment to her as my daughter was at the beginning. I asked all the kids if they would read the test questions themselves or if they wanted me to read them. And then, for the ones that read them all by themselves, I remind them to ask me if they don't know a word. Allison tried to get me to read the test questions! Um, no. I told her she could read them all by herself, which she did.

Then I went on a mini-vacation in my head. Because I can't help the kids, even if I know the book they read.

At one point, I was pretty sure Allison answered one question wrong. Quickly I went back to hiking my make-believe mountain on my mental pretend vacation.

But when her test was over, she must not have missed it, because she aced that thing!

Whew! That was just a huge load off my back. I was so happy for her. Her little face just lit up. She knew she could do it now!

When she got in the van after school when I picked the kids up, she handed me something she said she'd made me. I told her I couldn't look at it right then, because I was driving. But once I got home, what I saw made my day.

She's such a sweet girl.

She made me this:

As a side note, she's done great on every test since then, too.

Homework Mix-up

2010-03-15T09:15:00.003-04:00

Most of the time, I oversee the kids completing their homework each day. Long before Bruce gets home from work.

With Clay, that means nothing more than asking the question, "Do you have homework?" Usually, his reply is a simple "no". Because he does it before he gets home, either in some down time at school or if he rides the bus home.

With Spencer and Allison, I spend 30-45 minutes, mostly listening to them read. And actually, that time would be shorter if they'd come prepared to do homework with a happy attitude. Depending on how they are behaving, sometimes they'll do their homework together at the same time. If they're acting like snotheads, they go one at a time. I'm looking forward to them being in second grade next year, because that's when my hands-off approach to homework kicks in.

Occasionally, if I'm having a harried day, I'll ask Clay to listen to his siblings read and help them accordingly. And rarely, if I'm having a harried day and I'm running somewhere in the evening, Bruce will pick up on homework slack.

Clay missed a few days of school a couple of weeks in a row recently. He did well to keep up with all his work at home so he wouldn't fall behind once he got back into the classroom. But he had one extra credit assignment sheet that I'd left on the counter top. It wasn't due for a few more days, so we planned to do that over the weekend.

Along came a harried day when I also had plans for the evening so I asked Bruce to work with Spencer on his homework while I was gone.

When I returned home, Spencer had done Clay's extra credit assignment!

The assignment was to draw a picture of your hero and then list 10 adjectives to describe them.

Spencer drew a picture of Jesus. Sweet, huh?

Then he wrote a few sentences describing Jesus. Now, I'm not sure if that means that Bruce didn't really look hard at the assignment, which wasn't really Spencer's to do anyway. Or if that means that my husband has been out of an English class for far too long and no longer remembers what adjectives are.

No matter. The end results are blog worthy, so here's what Spencer wrote, in his own special way of spelling things:

"His name storts with a G. He live's in Hevien. He is a prechr. He loves us very moch. He Hls peopol."

With some effort, I figured it all out, but the last sentence. It is not "He hells people." Spencer said he wrote "He helps people." Yes, I like that much better.

When Clay did the assignment a few days later, he drew a picture of his dad. Awwww!

Here are the adjectives (and, yes, he definitely knows what adjectives are) Clay used to describe his dad:

funny
smart
cool
nice
tough
strong
great
weird
odd
youngish

Perfect adjectives for a hero. Aren't all your heros weird and youngish?

Father and Son

2010-03-14T20:22:00.000-04:00

Doing a little catch-up blogging here. Last week was crazy. But here I am, chugging away again.

Early in the school year, Clay entered a couple of pictures in a county 4-H photography contest. The fourth grade social studies/science teacher at his school is excellent (don't just take my word for it... she's previously won the area title of Teacher of the Year... probably more than once, but at least once that I know of!). Mrs. T, as she is known to her students, even taught Bruce back when he was in school. And I'll tell you a little story about that in a minute.

Mrs. T works along with the county 4-H folks and gets the students involved in various projects. Clay doesn't do all of them. He wasn't interested in the cornbread making contest, although I'd have let him follow my grandma's killer cornbread recipe if he'd asked. Seriously, I'm sure he'd have won with her recipe! But he had no desire. Nor did he jump to be involved in the public speaking competition. Can't say that I blame him there. He can always get over his fear of being center stage when he's older.

But he was all over the photography contest. Probably because he's seen Bruce be so interested in photography.

So one fine day in late October last year, during a camping trip to Pigeon Forge, our family spent a day at Cade's Cove in Townsend. We really enjoy that place.

Bruce toted along his camera equipment. Clay brought tons of enthusiasm.

It was chilly, windy and kind of drizzling to boot. But perfect lighting for some outdoor photography.

Bruce took several pictures and then we found a very pretty spot for Clay to take his picture. Bruce explained some camera settings to Clay and then cut him loose.

Clay entered a couple of pictures in the competition, including this one...

... which won second place in the "water" category. Nice job, Clay! (And dad, too, for braving the weather while mom stayed tucked away inside the truck.)

Now for my story about Mrs. T and my husband. This story also features Clay.

A couple weeks ago, I started thinking about canning with a pressure cooker. Spring is just around the corner. We had a friend dig up a garden plot for us last fall. Seeds had been purchased for every vegetable that appealed to Clay the day he went shopping with me.

However, a few years back, for my birthday Bruce exchanged our normal range for a glass top range. I thought I'd love it. And when it's clean, I do. But it is harder to clean, in my opinion, than a regular stove top. AND, if you go online and do some research, you'll read all kinds of cautionary tales about not using a pressure canner on glass top stoves. Something about the weight breaking the glass. Or the base of the canner scratching the top. Or the variant heat not keeping the pressure regulated, thus leaving you with a chance of poisoning your family with botulism. Who knows which is actually true, if any.

But I am a rule follower by nature. I read instructions when baking. I heed traffic signs. I am a huge fan of directions. They make me feel safe and secure.

All that info is back ground, so you'll understand why I was spending a morning working through a junk drawer that I rarely open. It holds various things that won't be mentioned along with every single owner's manual for each and every kitchen appliance owned by our home's previous owner (who must also have had a great love of following directions). And since we bought our home nearly 10 years ago, we've just tossed into the drawer any owner's manuals for new appliances we have bought along the way.

I was sure I'd find the owner's manual for my glass top stove and it would tell me in no uncertain terms either "Do not use a pressure canner" or "Go ahead and can to your hearts content... all other contrary opinions are stupid."

I found no such great guidance.

But I did find an envelope addressed to my mother-in-law from Mrs. T. The letter had been passed on to me a few years ago, long before I ever thought that Clay might also have this same teacher. I had completely forgotten I even had the letter.

There was a note inside from Mrs. T to my mother-in-law. It said she had found a note that my husband had written to her back when he was in her class... on July 2, 1981. Bruce was in second grade at the time.

Then Mrs. T tucked in the note from my husband. I'm going to type it the way he wrote it after the salutation...

"I told my Mom and Dad that I cheated a few times this past year. I have asked them to forgive me, I have prayed and ask Jesus to forgive me and now I would like to ask you to forgive me. Thank you for being a nice teacher.
love,
Bruce"

I got a nice chuckle out of it, so I kept it out, planning to send Mrs. T an e-mail about it.

Later that day, Clay found the envelope and wanted to know what it was. I told him to go ahead and open it and find out.

He read both notes, got a silly little smile on his face and then said, "Dad was a dirty rotten cheater."

I burst out laughing!

Clay wasn't being disrespectful. He got a little glimpse into what his dad was like as a boy. And I think it was good for him to see that his daddy wasn't perfect. And he still isn't!

Counting Down the Months

2010-02-23T14:20:00.001-05:00

I thought for sure this past Christmas would be the year that Spencer and Allison finally figured out that Santa is not real. Frankly, I'm tired of the jolly old, red-suited man getting all the credit for the cool toys that Bruce and I agonize over picking out. Any crazy person who visits Toys R Us in the month before Christmas to buy that special toy deserves credit of some kind. Lifelong gratitude comes to mind.

But, no. Our younger two are holding fast to the idea that Santa lives in all his greatness up at the North Pole where little elves rush to do his every whim in toy making. And the streets are paved with candy. And Mrs. Claus makes hot chocolate and cookies for dinner. But never fish.

We don't make Christmas all about Santa by any means. All our children understand about Jesus' birth long before they can even pronounce Santa's name. We read to them each Christmas Eve from the book of Luke about Christ's birth.

But probably my favorite holiday movie is Polar Express, which we own. And we wear the DVD player out watching that thing each year. Seriously, how can you resist singing the Hot Chocolate song? "Hot, hot... oh, we got it. Hot, hot... yo, we got it. Hot, hot... say, we got it. Hot chocolate!" It's better if you tap your feet, too.

So, anyway, the whole idea of the movie is to believe.

Spencer is super gung ho about Christmas. One of these days I envision him actually helping his wife decorate for the holidays, instead of simply opening a very large cardboard box, pulling out a pre-lit tree, fluffing a bit and pronouncing: "I've done my part".

I just can't make myself tell him that Santa is bunkum.

I was beside myself excited when he came home from school before Christmas telling me about a classmate of his that told him Santa was not real.

"Oh, this is THE DAY," I thought. "No more pretending. Santa... poof, be gone!"

I asked Spencer what he thought about Santa, whether he was real or not. And he said: "I think that Blake just isn't going to get any gifts this year. Because Santa won't give you gifts if you don't believe."

Well, crud.

Another brick wall.

This morning while driving the kids to school, I nearly destroyed the myth. I was distracted by the fact that Clay was not feeling well, but I was making him go to school anyway. He doesn't have any strong symptoms that help me justify keeping him home, so off to school he went, even though he cried and said that I wasn't listening to him when he told me he wasn't feeling well. And, of course, I understood that to mean: You don't believe me. You don't love me enough to keep me home when I feel yucky.

All that Mommy Guilt was wriggling around in my head when I heard Spencer talking about reindeer flying.

I'm always spitting out facts to the kids when I can. Just doing my part to educate. So I said, "They can't really fly, Spencer."

Um... what?! Well, if reindeer can't fly, then how do they pull Santa through the sky on Christmas Eve when he's on his mission?

Scramble, scramble, scramble. What to say that isn't lying but preserves his innocent belief in a fraud?

And then my sickly older son saved me. Unintentionally, I'm sure.

"Can you believe that it's already the end of February? Seems like it was Christmas just the other day."

Whew!

Distraction. It's a fine thing.

"You know what that means, don't you?" I asked. "Well, it means we only have 10 more months to go until next Christmas!"

"Mom, please," my pitiful sick boy said about his brother, "Don't get him started!"

You know, at this point, I really should just consider paying someone to burst my children's bubbles. Five bucks to any takers who don't mind seeing a sweet-faced girl and a red-headed boisterous boy with crestfallen looks on their faces when you tell them Santa is not real. If you can do it without making them cry, I'll give you ten bucks. Per child. Call me.

My Babies

2010-02-16T20:27:00.004-05:00

Allison is in trouble. She's in her room. My girl has taken a shine to kicking people. Sometimes in very painful places.

So in the interest of us ever becoming grandparents, she's getting a lengthy time out right now.

And Clay is evaluating how many children are too many.

"I think three is too much of a handful," he said. "So I plan to stick with just two."

Well, my sweet firstborn... "What if your wife wants six babies?" I asked.

"Yikes!" he replied.

Then Spencer checked in with his plans.

"I want six kids," he said. "You want to know why? Because I love babies."

Well, my sweet second born... "You know all babies grow up. And you still have to feed them when they're big." I said. (I couldn't help it. All these snow days are killing me. I feel new empathy for the ladies in the lunch room at school. I just can't feed these kids enough to fill them!)

"I know," he said. "But even when they're big, they'll still be MY babies."

See. That right there tells me there's nothing wrong with that boy's hearing!

I tell him the same thing all the time.

"Grow up all you want; you'll always be my baby!"

Valentine's Day Treat

2010-02-15T11:30:00.001-05:00

Bruce and I had our Valentine's Day date early, thanks to our awesome church's Parent's Night Out on Friday.

But our real Valentine's treat fell on the correct day when Spencer and Allison got baptized last night.

Spencer has probably not let a full week go by since he asked Jesus into his heart back in November without asking, "When can I be baptized?"

We were working our way through this neat magazine that we got from the children's minister at church, so we had a tentative date in mind for Spencer's baptism.

But then Allison started asking questions about Jesus and his sacrifice and sin and heaven. Before we knew it, she asked Jesus into her heart in December.

So we pushed the PAUSE button on Spencer while catching Allison up in the booklet.

I would not have picked the timing this way, necessarily. You know, no matter how many times I repeat the phrases, "Life's not fair; get used to it" to my kids, I still try to make things "fair". It's just proof that I don't even get close to perfect parenting.

My thoughts would have been for Spencer to have his special day. And for Allison to continue on her slower pace until she was fully ready, and then she'd have her special day.

But my thoughts are not God's thoughts, nor my ways His ways. Thankfully.

He knew before those critters were born that Spencer and his boldness would lead the way in Allison's curiosity taking full shape. They've both been exposed to the same amount of church, Sunday school, Bible Study Fellowship and Vacation Bible school. But they are not the same children, even if they are twins. Rooming together for their first nine months of life is pretty much where their personal similarities end.

Yesterday at breakfast while Bruce prayed about their upcoming baptisms that night, I peeked. (Real moms peek while praying with children. Especially moms of boys. It's necessary. And that's all I'm going to say about that.) Because I peeked, I got the sweetest blessing of seeing Spencer and Allison's personalities perfectly displayed.

Bruce was waxing eloquently in his prayer. Both kids had their eyes shut, amazingly! Allison's hugely smiling face was lifted up toward heaven, like she was beaming at God. Spencer's head was bowed, but his right arm was lifted up toward heaven... and his hand was making the "rock on" sign.

Yep, those are my twins! Thank you, Jesus!

After morning church services, and lunch, Spencer was immediately ready to turn around and head back to church.

"I'm ready to be baptized... now!" he said at least once an hour until we were finally ready to return to church for evening services. But first, a picture for mom.

Once we were there, a couple from church walked us through the process. And the education minister talked with Spencer and Allison about baptism. Then the kids got changed into these nifty, green jumper shorts things.

They were ready. I did my best to keep them quiet while listening to the beginning of the worship service, hoping that any exuberance on their part wouldn't be too loud.

The lady helping us actually asked at one point which one of them was more hyper. I don't think anyone has ever asked me that before. Spencer generally wins that title hands-down. I finally just told them to sit until it was time.

See that? Role reversal!

And then it was time.

Ladies first.

And then our little gentleman.

I just realized they both did the same thing with their hands when they were nervous, right before being immersed.

Both kids were excited about the candles they'd be given. Even thought we're new at this church, they've seen enough baptisms now to understand the meaning.

We're lights for Jesus in this dark world. And they were waiting for their charge to "go light your world".

I'm sure this was the best Valentine's Day ever.

Rodents and Winter Weather

2010-02-10T16:07:00.004-05:00

It seems that the rodent up in Pennsylvania is accurate this year... we are ankle deep in more winter, as "predicted" on Groundhog Day. And the kids are on their ninth snow day this school year.

Today I discovered that people are not the only creatures who are crazy sick of snow. Our dog Dixie flipped out just a bit earlier today.

I hadn't gone out for the day to feed her yet. And I really didn't want to. It's been below freezing all day and hasn't stopped snowing since we woke up this morning.

I kept peeping out the window to see if our sweet Labrador had come out of her doghouse. By noon, I saw her playing in the snow.

She looked like she had a pine cone in her mouth. She often finds pine cones in our backyard, puts them in her dog food dish, and carries the whole thing around like it's filet mignon and she's a waitress at a fine restaurant.

But, this time, the closer Dixie got to our kitchen window, where I stood watching her, the more I realized, "That is not a pine cone in her mouth!"

The object swayed as our dog walked. A pine cone does not sway.

Nor does it have itty bitty feet. And the object dangling from our dog's mouth definitely had some itty bitty feet.

I got our camera out and zoomed in for a picture, but it was snowing too hard to see clearly exactly what Dixie had caught. My best guess is that it was either a mouse or a mole.

My poor puppy's brain has frozen and she thinks she's a cat!

Thankfully, I'm certain this dementia is reversible and it's only partial. Dixie then walked to my favorite tree, dug a hole in the ground at its base, dropped her mouthful, and gave the dead thing a proper burial.

Only 37 more days until Spring.

Cutting Cords?

2010-01-23T15:44:00.006-05:00

I haven't blogged much about our change in churches, because it's been a hard process.

I don't like change.

But sometimes it's necessary.

Our previous church was truly our church family. A first for me, considering that I've never lived in one location long enough to put down roots that deep.

Bruce was mostly raised in that church, though. And still, I sometimes think the move was harder for me. Even though moving is what I do. A lot. And quiet well, I might add.

This change in churches is the first one we've made since we've been married that wasn't required because of a physical change in location from one city or state to another.

But that doesn't mean it wasn't required just the same. I believe God ordained it.

I began praying about moving churches a year beforehand, almost entirely because more children Clay's age go to the church we're now at. But I didn't think that our oldest would be the only person in our family to benefit from attending a different church.

The first couple of months were hairy. Filled with clinging and crying. Hesitancy. Uncertainty. Discomfort.

I kept thinking, "I don't know who goes with what family here. And these people never held my children when they were babies. Nobody here knows that I'm partial to teaching second graders during the week of VBS, but I prefer teaching youth girls for Sunday school. At our old church, I knew who to ask about leading a Beth Moore Bible study and what to do with the Lifeway receipt once I purchased the materials. And at our old church, the librarian can probably tell you my top three favorite authors."

Silly thoughts, really, but there they were.

And then it came time to sign our kids up to play Upwards basketball, which isn't offered at our new church but is at our previous church. The night I took the kids for evaluations at our old church, I was heartsick. I missed it so much.

In walked a newly familiar face. Spencer and Allison's new Sunday school teacher, who also happens to be Clay's Awanas leader. We chatted for a minute and then all our kids were having their skills evaluated. I found an old friend who I hadn't seen since we'd made the church swap and was talking to her.

Allison finished her evaluations first. But she walked right past me, and sat down on the bleacher with her new Sunday school teacher. If she had scooted much closer, she'd have been in his lap! Spencer did the same.

I have to thank God for people like that, who are such a blessing to my kids that a change that has rocked their little worlds is made a bit smoother.

Other things were sweet changes that might not have happened, at least as quickly, at our previous church. The kids chose NOT to go to children's church and instead attend regular services with us after Sunday school. Bruce and I decided that they'd have no more paper and pens during service. No distractions. A few Sundays a couple of them fell asleep, but after some pokes, prods and earlier bedtimes, I noticed they were all paying attention during the service well enough to later re-state what the preacher's sermon was about.

We go to the contemporary service at our new church, which wasn't my first choice, because I miss hearing the choir and it's only in the earlier service. But there was no doubt which service was better suited to our whole family once I saw all three kids enraptured by the praise band that plays in the second service.

A couple of Sundays ago, I noticed our new church just felt more like "home" for the first time. I can't even remember why or even if there was a reason why. But it probably helped that the following Wednesday, I made my first stop at the church library.

I still don't know names with most faces. I still feel uncomfortable sometimes.

I still miss our old church and the people there. In fact, tonight I'm hitting the local Cracker Barrel to spend an evening with several friends from our old church.

But tomorrow, when the alarm goes off, I'll still look forward to worshipping at our new church.

I still talk to the secretary at our old church at least once every couple of weeks, either by phone, e-mail or with just a Facebook comment. I'll still hug our previous pastor and his wonderful wife every time I see them. And I'll still go to any women's function at our old church that my mother-in-law or someone else invites me to.

Bruce told me a few weeks ago that I needed to "cut the cord" holding me to our old church.

But I can't.

I won't.

Some of my favorite people are there.

It's not like a New Year celebration... out with the old, in with the new.

It's just different. An added bonus of new friends. New church family.

No cord cutting for me!

A Much Safer Day

2010-01-07T15:33:00.003-05:00

Maybe I mean "a much saner day".

School was cancelled today. Again. For the third straight day. After two whole weeks of Christmas vacation.

I'm convinced that there will be no school again tomorrow. And it has nothing to do with the weather forecast.

I think God's teaching me something.

Patience? I doubt it.

Loving through all circumstances? Nah. It isn't that. I love the little boogers in all circumstances. I just don't always like them. (Call me a bad mom all you want. I'm just being honest. You can lie if you want to. I won't call you a bad parent.)

Oh, I know. I know!

Maybe He's teaching me not to hold too tightly to worldly things... like sanity.

It's okay. I'll be talking to Him about it some more again later. Just in case I'm wrong.

Today's boredom buster was much more creative than yesterday's attempt to reenact Noah's flood inside our home.

I have often said that what Spencer can do with paper, tape and scissors is simply amazing.

In honor of the fact that he just can't let go of his Christmas spirit (probably because he's still technically on Christmas break for the third week in a row!), Spencer constructed this little beauty...

Santa's sled!

I love the Wal-mart bag that he colored red with a marker. It probably would have been simpler if he'd used a bag from Target, but I'm not sure Santa should be flying the unfriendly skies of today's world with a giant red target painted on the back of his sled.

I think Spencer does fine work. Might look good on a resume one day when he applies for an engineering job with Honda. Maybe he could continue to hook me up with one Honda after another.

The Dangers of Balloons

2010-01-06T17:06:00.012-05:00

Water balloons should be illegal. They rank right next to my proposed law saying that no Silly Putty should ever be brought into a home that has both carpeting and boys.

And kids should go to school after two weeks of Christmas break, regardless of snow, sleet, hail, ice and frigid temperatures. Seriously. If the postal service is delivering mail in their little buggies, then those heavy buses should be running! Spend a few thousand bucks equipping the yellow beasts with seat belts and quit being sissies about calling school off at the drop of a flake.

Don't chastise me and tell me they cancelled school in the interest of keeping kids safe from a weather-related accident. I'm here to tell you, my kids may not be safe at home after today's water balloon-related accident.

They're bored. Bored children are dangerous children. They turn into a mixture of MacGyver and Rambo. Bad things happen.

I even had the blow-up latex contraband appropriately stashed away. In a room that my kids aren't even allowed to enter.

Moreover, said children were supposed to be in their respective rooms having a "quiet time" while I talked on the phone with Bruce, planning a summer trip to Germany to visit my mom.

Oh, they were having a quiet time, all right. Too quiet.

I should have sensed something.

But after hanging up the phone, I got online to research what I needed to do to renew the kids' passports.

And that's when the oldest perpetrator came downstairs and asked if they could be done with their quiet time. I asked if they could all get along together nicely. He said yes and so I agreed that quiet time could cease. I told him to go back upstairs and tell his young accomplices.

And as he walked by the kitchen, he said, "Uh, Mom. I think we have a leak."

What? What leak? I hadn't yet run the dishwasher today.

I walked to the kitchen and noticed that the lamp over the table was dripping water, looking more like a fountain in the park than a light fixture ought to look. The table was holding puddles.

Surprisingly, all three children were behind me at that moment. Even though Clay never made it upstairs to tell Spencer and Allison that their incarceration was over.

"What have you all done?" I asked, and then I ran up the stairs to the bathroom on the floor above the kitchen.

Hmmm. No obvious flooding on the floor. No water filling the bathtub to overflowing. No clogged toilet had been continuously flushed past capacity. In fact, the only evidence of wrongdoing was that the hand towel was lying on the floor, next to a few drops of water; but the towel was only slightly damp.

"What have you done?" I repeated. But a lot louder this second time.

And so the story gushed forth from the mouths of my babes.

Spencer went into the room that has been deemed off limits. He found the water balloons that were left over from Clay's birthday party last summer. And then he and Clay proceeded to fill the water balloons. With water, naturally.

Allison, the best tattle tale we've got, strictly blew air into the balloons. No water. Not her. No way. But she didn't blow any hot air in my direction informing me of her brothers' misdeeds either. I still am not sure what possessed her to pass up that opportunity.

But still. Where was all that water in the kitchen coming from?

I opened the cabinet under the bathroom vanity.

My memory fades a bit here. I think it's a coping mechanism in order for me to maintain some small measure of psychiatric health.

I do know that I was mad enough to tell the kids to get to their rooms promptly because there was no way I was fit to even spank them at that moment. I spent several minutes venting while soaking and then wringing out the hand towel.

The kids are still in their rooms. Waiting for Bruce's arrival home. Because they are more afraid of daddy spankings than mommy spankings. And because, after all, the wait is worse than the actual spanking. Usually. Exceptions might be made tonight.

Still, I feel a little bad for them. Truly, they had no idea what was actually going on.

No-no's were violated. We have a strict rule against water play inside the house. And the boys will be spanked for disregarding that rule.

But they didn't even see the water accumulating under the sink. Clay fitted the balloon over the lip of the spigot but, all I can figure is, the water back sprayed up into the faucet and then dripped on the outside of the pipes under the sink onto the bottom of the area underneath where you store all your extra toilet paper. If they'd seen in, I'm certain they would have stopped.

Well, I'm not 100 percent certain. Because they're boys. And water play is fun.

I'm maybe 70 percent sure they'd have stopped.

Alas, while all our Christmas decorations are no longer decking our walls, we now have two rather large water spots decorating our kitchen ceiling.

They aren't very festive, are they? And they aren't even symmetrical. Lovely.

On a positive note, the light does actually still work.

Meanwhile, the local school system continues to toy with me. Tomorrow, school is starting on a two-hour delay.

Uncomfortable... Very Uncomfortable

2010-01-04T16:34:00.003-05:00

I haven't been much of a blogger lately. This used to be a place for me to purge my soul, but I've been too busy to write out my thoughts. They still rumble around upstairs, but that's as far as they're getting lately, unless I unload them on poor Bruce.

But Bruce is at work right now. And I feel the need to unload. Just warning you.

I do not like door-to-door sales people. It's nothing personal. I'm sure they're lovely individuals who simply have possibly the world's worst job. But I am way too suspicious to appreciate their efforts, even on a day like today when it's flurrying snow and so cold outside that our dog's water bowl is more like a Popsicle holder.

For starters, I've done an awful lot of back scratching in the newspaper world when an editor had me write a business article to swap for advertising. And I've worked in public relations, which pays better than newspaper writing, but is far less fulfilling for me. Seriously, I have worn out the thesaurus on finding different ways to say "wonderful" and I doubt anyone is going to impress me with a new word in describing their product.

Also, for me, it's a patience thing. I don't do well with long, drawn out explanations of how great a deal something is, how I'm going to benefit from it, how a product will change my life, make me smarter, richer, thinner... whatever. Tell me in 10 words or less what you're hocking and then be on your way. Because when it comes right down to it, if I want something, I'll research it on my own time on the Internet and then find a supplier and place an order... if we can afford it at all!

I also don't enjoy someone I don't know knocking on my door when I am home alone, or home with my children, and making my warped mind wander back to the latest episode of Criminal Minds. I spend way more time mentally noting height, approximate weight, hair and eye color, clothing and possible speaking dialects, piercings and tattoos than I do listening to their sales pitch.

Even better than having my time interrupted and my suspicions aroused is when my three kids parade to the door to see who has approached our inner sanctum. That's when I realize that the kids are still wearing their pajamas, so I squint back at the sales person and wonder if they're either a pedophile or a kidnapper.

But, I remember, perfectly normal looking human beings have been convicted of horrible things.

It's pretty simple. I'm either going to have to quit watching TV, including the news, or I'm going to have to post a "NO SOLICITING" sign at our front door.

Because the older I get, the less patience I have and the more my mind is naturally inclined to turning into Stephen King's playground.

Better Late Than Never

2010-01-02T11:23:00.005-05:00

Just posting a couple of pictures from 2009 that I neglected to post at the time they occurred. For my mom!

Way back in October, here's how the kids dressed up for Halloween.

Clay didn't want to really be anything in particular. His only request was that he get to spike his hair up. I found the glow-in-the-dark green skeleton shirt at Wal-mart and added some green hairspray to the mix. He's a handsome freaky thing, isn't he?

I made Allison's ladybug outfit following instructions I found online somewhere. It was pretty low key, which is what I shoot for in any kind of homemade item.

Spencer asked to be a gardener. I bought the overalls from my neighbor at a community garage sale. The hat is Bruce's. You can't really see the gardening gloves and seed packets that are attached to the front pockets of his overalls, but you can see a bit of the watering can I attached to the loop on his carpenter overalls. For some reason, when I asked Allison to turn around so I could catch her wings, Spencer felt it was important to show me his rear side as well.

Next up... the fourth graders at Clay's school put on a Veteran's Day program back in November. I surprised Clay by calling Bruce at work after I dropped the kids at school that morning and asked him if he could take off from work to come. I always go to the kids' school programs, but Bruce has never been able to. And Clay has only one year of elementary school after this year, so I thought it'd be nice for both of my older guys.

All three of our kids were happy to see Dad!

The fourth graders did a great job. Our Clay is never enthused about being in front of an audience, so this is his standard pose.

Still handsome as can be, but you can see his discomfort. Poor kid.

Today, we're two days into 2010... and it's snowing. Again.

I don't think it'll amount to anything worth playing in, and for that I'm grateful. It's way too cold out, even for energetic kids who are bundled to look like marshmallows in snow gear. The thermostat has hovered between 19 and 21 degrees.

I'm feeling bad for our lab Dixie.

Happy New Year!

Precursor to Christmas

2009-12-20T15:17:00.016-05:00

Even if no snowflake surfaces on December 25, we all already feel like we've had a White Christmas.

Snow started falling Friday afternoon and within a couple of hours the roads were in pitiful shape, power outages started kicking in, and then later, water became scarce. Blessedly, we were spared all the ill effects of the snow storm. The kids had only a half day of school and Bruce had taken a half day off from work to deal with the cable man coming (because I'm clueless when those techie types come to the house to hook up anything!). So we were all home as we watched the precipitation turn from rain to slush to fat snowflakes. And once the snow started, it seemed it would never stop. At its height, we had between six and seven inches of snow. That's the most snow my kids have seen at one time in their whole lives!

By suppertime, the kids were begging to go outside, so I did my job... I put the teakettle on to heat water for the hot chocolate they'd drink when they came inside. Oh, and let's not forget my other big task: to make sure everyone had gone to the bathroom BEFORE they got bundled up.

Then I watched from the kitchen and dining room windows.

They played for about two hours.

And they slept good that night! Our electricity flickered a few times, but never went out for even a whole minute.

Saturday was more of the same. The kids played in the snow in our yard for a couple of hours after breakfast. And then they were outside again for a few hours more after lunch over at my in-laws' home, which has more hills than our yard has.

My in-laws were without power, so by evening they came over for supper and "a sleepover" at our house. Right before they left their house, their water went out. And our water pressure was waning, so we filled up a couple of containers of drinking water and some other containers of water for... flushing... in case it came to that. But it didn't. After supper, the kids watched TV in the playroom and we adults watched a movie in the den. By the time the movie was over, our water pressure was back.

We know were were blessed. Via Facebook, we read about countless friends who were stuck on the interstate in traffic that wouldn't budge, or a 20-minute trip took two hours or more, or they abandoned their vehicles altogether and walked home in that cold mess. Others updated, saying they were without power or water or both.

But for us, we just had a great family evening. The kids were so excited to have their Meemaw and Peepaw over for the night. No stress. No arguing. It was truly what Christmas should be... except on a smaller scale since we weren't with our entire extended families.

Church was cancelled at the Moody's church and at ours, so this morning we had a leisurely late breakfast.

Then Spencer and Allison headed back outside, for their third straight day of snow play. Clay had had enough.

Spencer rolled a snowball as big as he could get it, then hefted it onto his sled and hauled that thing up and down a very slight hill in our front yard.

Then he had Bruce come outside and help him roll it even bigger and get it off the sled. I laughed and took this picture when Spencer told me to come outside and see what he had made. That thing is nearly bigger than he is!

Allison was content to stick with a smaller scale snowman. She built him and set him on our porch railings. He has berries for eyes and one of his stick arms fell off, but she surgically re-attached it after I took this picture, so no worries, he's recuperating nicely now.

These last few pictures are from last Sunday when the children's Christmas program was performed.

Before church in the morning, I decided to snap an impromptu picture because they ended up all dressed in the same colors. I put the boys in their matching Christmas sweaters on purpose, but must have been in a red and black mood when I picked out Allison's outfit.

Spencer is the only child of ours we could get to stick with children's choir. He has no fear. He enjoys singing, so he wanted to do it, even if we are relatively new at the church and he doesn't have really tight friendships yet.

Clay flat out refused to be involved because, although he likes to sing, and is pretty good at it, he can't get over stage fright. I feel for him, but he's doing it when they start back in January. More on that later.

Allison went to several practices, but when it came time for the long practice the week beforehand, she got all weepy and bailed on the idea. Then Sunday came and she didn't want to go to the second long practice after the morning service. I told her she would not be allowed to do the performance. Okay. But then that night, she got upset once Meemaw and Peepaw arrived and Spencer was on stage ready to perform. She's also going to do it when they start back in January. Because I don't want to hear the whining next time.

Spencer not only stuck with the choir, but he also even took on a part with a few other little boys. And he was very nervous beforehand.

But when it came time to step up to the mic, he cheesed for a minute and I thought, "Oh, he's going to be just fine." I was so glad when we got home and Bruce showed me that he actually caught Spencer right at that moment.

And here's my big boy during his few singing lines with the other few boys.

Spencer has a bit of a showboat in him. He goes back and forth between being okay in the limelight and then wavering, wondering if he's gone too far out on a limb. He's so much like Bruce that way.

Near the end of the program, the children were to sit down, but, as is so often the case, his attention was elsewhere for a few critical seconds, and he ended up being the last child standing. Now, to be honest, I couldn't tell how much of it was complete accident, and how much was a little bit planned. But watching his face, he seemed embarrassed but then okay.

And that's when Clay started laughing. Not loudly, but covering his face and pointing at Spencer. Being obvious at least to me on his one side and his grandma on his other side. And he didn't stop when I warned him the first time.

And that's when Spencer looked right at us and realized what was going on... and his face crumbled just a little bit.

And Momma got a little bit mad.

And that's why Clay is being forced to do children's choir in January.

Because you don't laugh at someone when they're being brave. Especially when they're doing something you don't have the guts to do yourself. And most especially when it's your brother.

I'm going to cut Clay a very little bit of slack and talk to the person in charge to be sure they know not to give him any lines or solos and to let him stand as far back and unobserved as possible.

But being a little uncomfortable isn't going to kill him.

I just pray he doesn't throw up on stage in front of everyone during the performance.

For now, it's feeling like Christmas!

Allison's Turn

2009-12-14T08:54:00.005-05:00

We have been in a bit of spot since Spencer asked Jesus into his heart. If you haven't read the previous post where I told about his experience, I'll fill you in on Allison's response to the news... she cried. And then she moaned this phrase, "I'll never get to be a Christian!"

It's been awhile since we've had any twin issues in our house. And, actually, I thought I was pretty much past all those hurdles after we decided to keep them in separate classrooms when they started school. I figured the next time a twin thing came up, it would entail newly licensed teens and car keys and me praying lots.

This issue snuck up on me. But it still involved me praying lots!

Of course I reassured Allison that she could become a Christian any time she felt Jesus talking to her heart about it. But, personally, I really didn't think she was ready.

Clay asked questions for a good year before he asked Jesus into his heart. Spencer did the same. And both boys went to speak to our respective pastors at that time long before they actually prayed for salvation.

Allison has had the same opportunities to hear about Christ that the boys have had. Lots of church, VBS every summer, BSF for three years... we surround our family with Him. But she has rarely asked any kind of question that would go very deeply into spiritual matters.

After Spencer asked Jesus into his heart, I wanted to hold her back. I didn't want her to have a copycat conversion. I wished it would be truly HER experience with Christ.

But it hit me that she has not asked many leading questions because she often does not get a chance to talk much when the boys are around. Oddly enough, the boys take after me... if they think it, they say it. Allison is more like her daddy... there's all kinds of thoughts going on in their heads that the world may never know about.

I told Allison that I'd make more time for her at bedtime each evening and she could ask any question she wanted. And she has taken me up on that several times.

But I still did not feel she was getting very meaty with her questions. She was basically having me reiterate teachings she's already known about most of her life.

Last week, she started asking me (at the most inopportune times!), "Mom, can you help me become a Christian tomorrow?" Or, "Can we talk about me asking Jesus into my heart when we get home from school today?"

But then she wouldn't mention it again later.

Yesterday morning, several people were baptized at the beginning of our morning church service. And at the end, Spencer went forward to tell the church about his decision to ask Jesus into his heart. Then, last night at the evening service, the children did their Christmas program and it had the message of salvation in it. And I believe that all those things rumbled around inside Allison's head all day.

Because at bed time, she asked again: "Mom, can we talk about me being a Christian tomorrow?"

Well, I thought to myself, what's wrong with right now? Why does she keep asking about doing it later?

Do I think she understands every thing that being a Christian means? No. But she's 7 years old. I was 21 when I asked Jesus into my heart and even at that age, I didn't understand much. I learn more about what it means to be a Christian every day.

Why shouldn't she take that first step? She obviously wanted to. Who am I to stiffle that?

The Lord knew long before we did that he was blessing us with twins. And perhaps He even ordained it to be that Allison would long after Him more because her twin led the way.

So we talked some more and then she prayed for Jesus to come into her heart and be her Lord and Savior.

It'll be interesting to see how her life adapts to this new faith. I've seen my boys working out their faith and realizing the small ways God wants them to change. And it looks different on both of them. I'm sure Allison's walk will be unique, too.

Makes me think of the lyrics to the Steven Curtis Chapman song, The Great Adventure where he says:
"Saddle up your horses we've got a trail to blaze
Through the wild blue yonder of God's amazing grace
Let's follow our leader into the glorious unknown
This is a life like no other - this is The Great Adventure."

We are so blessed!

Forever and a Day

2009-12-11T15:42:00.003-05:00

It's been awhile since I posted anything. I just haven't felt like taking the time.

Plus, more often than not, I post to keep my mom informed of what's going on here, and she's been having some computer problems. So I knew she wasn't looking.

But this weekend, she's getting some computer assistance, so I wanted to put something on here for her.

Lately, we've instituted the Kid Cleaning Crew on Saturdays in our house. You'd think that as a stay-at-home mom, I could get this house clean during the week. But I run so often to the school to do this or that with one kid or another, that I'm lucky to throw in a load of laundry and get the dishwasher running before I leave the house most days.

So Saturday mornings, we crack the whip and get everyone working together in a concentrated effort to clean house.

Now, the house might not get cleaned like it would if I did it myself, but the kids are learning to do things independently. And with all three working on the things they can do (unloading the dishwasher, folding clothes and putting their things away, cleaning bathroom sinks, gathering and then tossing all garbage into our big garbage bin, vacuuming, and cleaning their own rooms), I can concentrate on the stuff they can't yet do. Or the things that I don't yet have the patience to "let" them do... like scrubbing toilets. Not that any of them have really been eager to try that yet.

Anyway, with us all working together for a little over an hour, the house gets presentable.

I love it! The kids are learning to do it without grumbling, too. Mostly because I told them that every time they grumble I will take away a toy of my choosing. And that toy will not be returning.

So far, only one toy has left the building. All our Thomas the Trains are gone.

This is win-win for me. The house gets cleaned and toys get purged.

This first picture was of Allison during one of our Saturday cleaning sessions. She got herself properly outfitted as a Putzfrau. She'd make a fine German cleaning lady. I think the sunglasses are to make sure she feels pretty even if she is on her hands and knees, vacuuming. Whatever it takes!

The next three pictures are head shots of the kids, because they've changed so much lately.

Both boys have let their hair grow out - Clay's by his own choice, and Spencer because I think he needs a little more hair on top when it's so cold outside during the winter. (Buzz cuts are for summer!)

Allison and I went last night to get our hair cut. She wanted it short. And she wanted bangs. I would love to keep it longer and sans the bangs. But I found a wad of hair on the floor the other day after she took scissors in hand to cut her own 'do. I figured it was time to let her have her way. It's just hair! We settled on semi-short with wispy bangs.

I'm not posting a picture of my haircut for at least two weeks. And there's a reason for that. I'm feeling a little bald right now.

I told my hairdresser I wanted it short again and to do what she wanted. Well, what she wanted is a good inch shorter than what I typically do.

My boys have told me repeatedly that they do not like my new cut because I no longer look like Mom. Allison has been mum on the subject. I think because I gave her a pep talk before we went on how to act should she get a haircut she does not like.

Bruce is wise enough to exercise his right to remain silent. Because whatever he says can, and will, be used against him.

I don't necessarily dislike the cut. I'm just getting used to it.

It's just hair. Luckily, mine grows faster than kudzu in the south during summer, so I'm good.

Our Trip Out West

2009-11-20T07:32:00.002-05:00

Back in early September, Bruce and I took a trip out West for a little bit longer than a week to celebrate our 15th anniversary. While we were gone, Bruce's parents watched the kids for us, along with all that that entails (fixing breakfast for three kids, packing lunches, driving the kids to and from school, doing homework, working Awanas verses, doing extra laundry, etc.). My inlaws are pretty great.

Bruce and I landed in Las Vegas, Nevada, at night. Factoring in the time change of three hours, it was past my bedtime, which could partly explain why I wasn't all that impressed with the city. That, and the fact that I don't appreciate porn. Or gambling. Or partying with alcohol. We simply drove down the strip on our way to our room at the Holiday Inn in Henderson, so we were in the area basically to sleep in our hotel for one night; I didn't really need to be all thrilled about the place.

When we woke up the next morning, we got some pictures of each of us sitting in our rental car, a Ford Mustang convertible. We parked in a Lowe's parking lot to get some of God's scenery in the background instead of some of the man-made structures that Las Vegas is known for.

Then we left Vegas and headed elsewhere. For what we actually came for. We did a drive-by viewing of Lake Mead.

And here's Bruce at our stop at Hoover Dam.

We drove along some of Route 66, through historic Seligman, Arizona, before getting to one of the trip highlights for me... Sedona.

While in Sedona, we took a tour with Pink Jeep Tours, which was outstanding. Worth every penny we spent on it. It was fun and beautiful. Plus, we had an excellent tour guide, Gary, who just for fun, took us an extra 30 minutes past the regular touring area, because we were his last tour of the day.

When we finished the tour, we went to the bathroom at a public restroom in town. I wiped off my face with a paper towel and it came back red from all the red rock dust the jeep had kicked up on the tour.

Then we staked out a place to eat a late supper and settled on The Barking Frog, which was fantastic. Great atmosphere, super waiter, yummy food.

Then we drove on to Flagstaff to stay the night. I woke up the next morning with my eye swollen shut. A mean bug bite that itched like crazy. And we planned to visit the Grand Canyon, so I didn't want one eye clamped shut. I had some impressiveness to SEE. After picking up some eye drops, we were good to go. We drove nearly 100 miles and then... The Grand Canyon.

There is no way these pictures do it justice, because you simply cannot imagine how large this canyon is without standing near the edge and turning your head to gawk at God's magnificence.

I kept thinking of the song "Glorious One" by Fee the whole time we were at the Grand Canyon. Here are the lyrics:

Our hands are lifted high
Our hearts are bowing in reverence
And we're surrounded by
The glory of Your presence

And with every creature
Every tongue
We're lifting our hearts
To the Glorious One

Glorious One
Glorious One
Light of the world
You outshine the sun
King of all kings
Eternity sings
Glorious One

God of infinite worth
With hands that carved out the oceans
You hold the universe
And still You run to the broken

With every heart
That's been set free
We're lifting our song
To our Glorious King

Glorious One
Glorious One
Light of the world
You outshine the sun
King of all Kings
Eternity sings
Glorious one

There is none more beautiful
There is none more wonderful

I still think about that song, just looking at these pictures. If you want to hear the song, here you go:

You can't see the people in the picture below, unless you click on the picture to enlarge it. I made it a point to take pictures with people in them to get a good idea of the scale of things when I showed the pictures to the kids at home.

We saw tons of lizards during our travels. I like lizards. They're cool. But it hit me that with that many scurrying around, some probably got inside people's homes. I don't think I could live with lizards wandering freely in my house.

The Grand Canyon also had the most uninhibited squirrels I've ever been around. They'd get so close to you, it became a little freaky. It's not natural. I started looking to see if their little mouths were frothing, because they were acting rabid. And the thing is, they were close enough that getting a good view of their mouths wasn't difficult! I'm sure their nearness had nothing to do with the signs posted throughout all the parks that stated: Please do not feed the wildlife.

We started walking down into the Grand Canyon, which just made the vastness of it all the more overwhelming. A park guide pointed out these hieroglyphics that he said many visitors miss.

We decided to hike down using our own two feet, instead of sitting astride these beasts.

The wife of the pastor at our previous church had told me before our trip about a mule that jumped off the edge at the Grand Canyon. I wasn't willing to ride on what might have been the next suicidal mule.

After hours visiting various stops around the Grand Canyon, we drove near Lees Ferry to see Marble Canyon on our way to our next destination... Horseshoe Bend. And Bruce took this gorgeous shot.

We arrived at our next sleepover spot, Page, Arizona, in time for supper. The hotel desk clerk recommended Bonkers for supper, and we really enjoyed the restaurant. Great staff. The manager even waited on us some. And he was a mega neat freak, vacuuming the floor with one of those electric-free vacuum things. It's never a bad thing for a restaurant owner to be a neat freak... not in my book anyway.

The next morning, we drove out to Glen Canyon Dam and then Lake Powell. Bruce thinks I'm nuts for taking this next picture. But I saw this huge lizard, so I stalked him. But that guy was way fast. And this is all that was left of him when I got close enough to take a picture... just lizard tracks.

This is Lake Powell, which I did truly enjoy looking at before I was distracted by the lizard.

The next tour we went on was through Antelope Canyon, which was another one of my favorite things about our trip. I was pleasantly surprised that my little point-and-shoot camera took several great pictures inside the dimly lit slot canyons.

Bruce took this one.

The tour we went on was a photographic tour. Which is great if you're really into that photography stuff. And Bruce is.

But seriously, some of the other amateur photographers were as rude as can be. After awhile, I just wandered away on my own so I could be away from them all. Pictures are great, but I wanted to enjoy God's creation without hearing someone constantly asking me to move because my foot was blocking his perfect shot. Plus, I accidentally left my flash on a couple times and, boy, did I get "the look".

Our tour guide took this one of us right before we left Antelope Canyon.

And here we are, going into Utah. But we were weaving in and out between Arizona and Utah the whole day. I pretty much ignored my watch. Arizona does not observe daylight savings time, even thought it is in the same time zone as Utah, Mountain time zone. The Native American Indian reservations in the area also don't observe daylight savings time. Nevada, our start and stop destination, is on Pacific time zone. I was either confused or blissfully, on purpose, unaware of time for much of our trip.

We drove nearly 90 more miles before stopping to see these Betatakin Ruins in northeastern Arizona that were built by ancient cave dwellers. See them?

Maybe it'll help to be a bit closer. I thought those ruins were pretty amazing.

This picture was taken outside of Kayenta, Arizona, which is where we spent our fourth night. Local Native Americans set up these road side stops to sell a variety of their crafts, from jewelry to sand drawings.

The next morning, we visited Monument Valley, Utah. We drove around the area a bit, but didn't go far onto the actual road that goes alongside to the monuments. Because we were in a low profile convertible, and the roads were simply red dirt. After an attempt, we turned around before we got stuck. Not before we took some pictures though.

Then we drove through Goulding, Utah, past Mexican Hat and made a stop at Gooseneck State Park, which was a bit like Horseshoe Bend, but not as pretty. It is amazing to see what meandering rivers can do to rock over time ("millions of years" is what we were told over and over again. And that got a bit old. No pun intended).

From Gooseneck, we drove up the Moki Dugway. Steep, unfinished roads, no guardrail, lots of switchbacks. Bruce loved it! I tried to focus on the horizon instead of the actual road. In the picture below, look on the left side, in the middle of the frame... that's a portion of the road.

A view from the top at Muley Point.

Then on to the Natural Bridges State Park. Even though bridges and arches look much the same, the distinction is made by knowing which were carved by water running underneath and which were caused by wind erosion and collapsing rock.

We drove on to Moab, Utah, which is where we stayed the night. We had supper at The Broken Oar restaurant. And I again was told they do not serve sweet tea. Those people don't know what they're missing! It was rustic and the tables were cramped a bit too close together. Seems like we waited a long time to get service, too, because Bruce was ready to leave and go elsewhere. But I had a coupon, so we stayed!

After supper, it was nearly dusk, and Bruce decided he wanted to drive out to Dead Horse Point State Park, which is supposed to be spectacular in daylight. But by the time we got there, it was dark. Bruce had just told me how cowboys would drive wild mustangs out onto the cliff where they could corral them because there was no place to go but off the cliff otherwise. I did not want to walk around in the dark out there. Especially after seeing signs as we approached the park saying that it closed after daylight hours. So I wimped and stayed in the car. I made Bruce mad, but I'm alive today to tell the tale, so I'm good.

The drive back to Moab was nerve wracking for me. Bruce says that since I had LASIK last year, I have bionic eyes. Well, every single bionic ray was trained on road shoulders, and every few minutes I'd yelp, "deer!" It's just way too hot for those animals to come out during the day, even when we were there in September, so they'd come out in droves when the sun when down. I was very glad to get back to our hotel that night.

The next day we visited the Arches National Park.

See the rock climber on this next photo? Yes, the one in the orange shirt on the bottom. But I didn't even realize until after I took the photo that he had a partner who was already up near the top.

More arches.

We drove back to Moab for lunch at McDonald's before heading to Goblin Valley State Park.

I took this picture because it made me think of my three goblins at home.

The whole park area was like being on a different planet with all these stone aliens standing at attention. And it was blazing hot, too, with the sun hitting those red rocks.

On the move again, I took the next two pictures while we drove on the interstate in Utah. Mostly because it's so very different from what home looks like.

In the areas we visited, we saw a lot of different wildlife than we normally do. Even the deer were different. These are called mule deer. See their big ears?

I got these pictures at Capital Reef National Park, which was an oasis of lush beauty in the middle of dessert. We loved this little area.

Check out the rack on this one.

Free range cows. Signs warned us of them constantly.

We drove through Dixie National Forest, which was a bit like being back at home, with towering pine trees. And we got the same whiff of Ponderosa Pine that we were treated with while on our extended portion of our Sedona Tour. One of my all time favorite smells now.

This road on the way to our next sleepover spot in Escalante, Utah, was unnerving. Where you see the pavement end, the ground ends. Not in some gently sloping way either. Just a drop off on each side with the curvy road in the middle.

There are no chain hotels in Escalante. There are no chain restaurants in Escalante. It was the most remote spot we stayed in during our travels. In fact, it creeped me out at bit. I felt like I was in an old John Wayne western. I felt out of my element just knowing how far away I was from a Wal-mart. But it's a smart small town because it takes advantage of being the only place in the area to offer hotels and restaurants to travelers. We ate supper at a place called Cowboy Blues and had breakfast the next morning at The Prospector. Both offered good, but basic fare, and had friendly staff.

Then we left Escalante for our last full day out West.

First up, Bryce Canyon. Another one of my favorite spots. More yummy Ponderosa Pine scent and wonderful views.

A Pronghorn, grazing. The only animal in the world that can run faster than these guys is the African Cheetah. The brochure from Bryce Canyon said the Pronghorn is one of only a few survivors of the Ice Age. And their eyesight is truly bionic... they can detect movement from four miles away. (Don't say you never learn any neat facts from this blog!)

I bought my calendar for 2010 a few weeks ago just because one month featured a photo of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon. The hoo what? Hoodoos are those amazing rock columns in the picture below. They reminded me of when I was a kid sitting on the shore of Myrtle Beach, trickling very wet sand through my fingers to make a big gloppy spire of sand. Yea, that. A hoodoo lookalike, on a much smaller scale and in a different color.

Here's the real thing:

From Bryce we headed to Cedar Breaks and then we needed to stop for lunch. I was hungry! We drove to Kanab, Utah, and ate at Houston's Trail's End restaurant, and I had one of the best salads I've ever had. I can't remember the name of it, but it had chicken tenders on top and some kind of spicy southwestern ranch dressing. Umm, umm!

Then we went to Zion National Park.

One of a group of Desert Bighorn Sheep... he and his friends completely stopped traffic as we arrived at the entrance to Zion.

I took tons of pictures. Bruce took mega tons of pictures. And I took a lot of pictures much like this one, because he was cracking me up.

One of the very cool things Zion has done is limited how many cars drive into the park by providing free shuttle tours throughout the park. I told Bruce that Cades Cove in Townsend, Tennessee, should look into that!

Bruce took the two pictures below. I love them both.

That night we drove closer to Vegas so we wouldn't have to be awake as early to catch our flight. We stayed the night in St. George, Utah. By this time, we were tired of real food. Heavy food. We ate at a Dairy Queen where I could get onion rings and a Blizzard.

The next day we drove back into Vegas and caught our flight home. We arrived in Nashville late and by the time we drove home, it was about 2 or 3 in the morning. So we had to wait until the next day to see our children!

So close, and still so far away!

Great trip. But we sure missed our kids. We talked to them every single day, but usually only for a minute or two per child, per parent. And we had a really hard time getting cell service the day we were at the Grand Canyon. I've never felt so removed from them. And I didn't like it.

Our next big trip is simply going to have to include the little goblins.

Finally... Passing on a Good Trait

2009-11-19T08:32:00.002-05:00

I see a lot of myself in our children, but too often it's bad stuff. My temper. Lack of discipline. Indecision.

But sometimes I see a glimpse of something that's actually decent in me hopping a generation into the kids. Tenderheartedness. A willingness to always say "sorry".

And having fun with writing.

All three kids "write books" in their spare time. I have no idea what prompted Clay to start doing that, but Spencer and Allison have copied their big brother. It's neat to see their results, even if it does sometimes get annoying to hear "Mom, how do you spell...?" fifty times within a single hour. (Sometime very soon, I'm going to start giving them the same answer my dad used to give me: "Go look it up in the dictionary!")

Yesterday, Clay brought home from school a story that had our whole family cracking up. I'm going to post the whole thing, exactly how he wrote it. No editing by Mom.

What a meal
by Clay

Everyone in the family agreed not to have turkey this Thanksgiving instead we had a live rooster! It all happened when I woke up the day before Thanksgiving. I saw my mom putting a live rooster in the crock pot, no plucked feathers, and it still had its eye, brain, and intestines. I knew I'd get something wacky if I asked for a rooster, but I did it anyways. I said, "What do you think your doing." She said, "Don't use that tone with me young man. Besides you said you wanted to try rooster." I responded, "I didn't want a live, nonplucked, brain-i-fied rooster." She said, "Oh, but it hearts my heart to see an animal die. And it's gross to pluck the feathers and hard." I said, "Uhh!" I went to school that day and worried so much I got really sweaty and got four F's on a quiz. When I got home it smelled so fowl that as soon as the smell hit my nose I was out. When I came to I was soaked. My mom splashed a bucket of water on me. I said I'm going to bed."

We were of school for Thanksgiving so I fought the smell and played Video Games.

At the Thanksgiving meal I was eating and when the rooster got to me it was black! I took a test bite and...... The next thing I knew I was in the hospitil getting my stomach pumped. Man what a meal!

That kid's got unadulterated talent!

Incidentally, we have no plans to try rooster for Thanksgiving. A turkey has been purchased and is sitting in our freezer... plucked, gutted, de-brain-i-fied and eyeball free.

What a Great Day

2009-11-18T16:18:00.003-05:00

Spencer has been home from school today with a nasty case of strep throat.

"What's so great about that?" you may wonder. I'll tell you... God does His best work through difficult and odd situations.

This morning I was supposed to go to Bible Study Fellowship, but Spencer had been clutching his throat and crying since yesterday evening. No fever, though, so I planned to send him on to school with my normal advice: Try to make it until after noon so you won't have an absence counted against you. Then call me if you need me to pick you up.

But Bruce looked inside Spencer's throat and said, "He should not go to school."

I sent an e-mail to Spencer's teacher and called my discussion leader at BSF to tell her I wasn't going to make it. But I decided to swing by the church where BSF is held after dropping off Clay and Allison at school to pick up my study notes for the upcoming week instead of having my discussion leader mail them to me.

On the way to school, we all started talking about my grandpa, who is 91 years old and has spent the last month in a rehabilitation center getting physical therapy after a stint in the hospital for pneumonia. Grandpa should be going home this week, which will be good. He has had no phone access while in the rehab center, so I haven't heard from him since I visited him in the hospital. Grandpa rarely lets a week go by without calling.

The kids and I talked about some other health issues that the doctors discovered while grandpa was hospitalized. Issues that will go untreated because of grandpa's age and the belief that to treat might actually jeopardize his life.

Clay had already told me when grandpa was first hospitalized that, should grandpa die, he wanted to go to the funeral. He's processing and preparing himself for the loss the best way a 9-year-old can.

This morning we talked about death, funerals, illness.

After I dropped Clay and Allison at school, Spencer said he also wanted to go to grandpa's funeral when the time comes.

My grandpa is a Christian and the kids know that. Spencer said that he would be sad when grandpa died, but he knew that grandpa would dance in heaven with Jesus. I said he sure would and that it'd been a long time since grandpa had danced. (If ever. I've never seen him dance. But maybe he was a romantic at one time when my grandmother was still alive. I doubt it. He seems more like he would have been a player before my grandmother settled him down!)

We paused in our talk for a bit. And then...

"Mom, when can I become a Christian?"

This may seem out of the blue, but it's not. Spencer has talked about this at least once a week since before I took him to see our previous pastor back in April. He's been so very close for so long.

But I hesitated.

In my human mother heart, I think, "If ever there was a child who needed Jesus, it's this wild child, this turn-on-a-dime emotional roller coaster redhead, this bold bundle of sweetness clashing with sass." Not that all people don't need Jesus in the same dire way.

I don't want to rush him, because I don't want him plagued with doubts later. I asked Jesus into my heart when I was 20. I have no doubts. I know what I was. I know what I am.

I also don't want to have unfair expectations of this child especially. When Clay asked questions about Jesus at the ripe age of 3, I thought it unusual. But he is a deep thinker, so when he wanted to ask Jesus into his heart as a 5 year old, I was hesitant, but less uncertain.

Clay is a manageable child. Always has been.

Spencer is a whirlwind. Always has been.

I don't want to expect Spencer to have a vastly different nature as a 7 year old new Christian, because I'm not sure that's reasonable. I know I became a completely changed person, but I was a mess. And I was an adult, capable of understanding much more.

Still, Jesus said to come to him like a little child.

Ironically, Bruce and I just said last night that we wondered if we were wrongly holding Spencer back.

So when Spencer asked in the van this morning, I said, "You can become a Christian whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready right now," he said.

I asked him more questions, until I felt he truly understood. Then I said, "Let's pray, but I have to pull this van over."

"Mom," he said, "you can just pray with your eyes open."

Yes. Yes, I can.

So I led him in a prayer. And he asked Jesus to forgive his sins, to come into his heart, and to help him live for Him from now on.

He had the biggest smile on his face when we said, "Amen". And then I noticed that he was blinking. A lot.

That sweet pea was nearly weeping.

But he was pleased as punch.

I took him in the church with me to get my BSF notes and he told a friend we saw, who was in my group last year, that he had just asked Jesus into his heart. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw my discussion leader, so I stopped to get out to tell her I'd gotten my notes, and before I got out, Spencer said, "Will you tell her I just asked Jesus into my heart?"

He wanted to go tell our new preacher right then, too. But I thought that as new members of the church it would not bode well if we passed on some strep to the pastor. I did call him, though, to share the news.

Later, Spencer told our pediatrician about his decision. Our pediatrician is a Christian man, and our kids love him. When Spencer told him, the doctor told Spencer they were brothers now and then he held out his fist and said, "Give me a bump on that." So they bumped fists. He even told Spencer a little bit about when he became a Christian.

It's just been a great day.

The only hitch... that twin factor. Allison cried when Spencer told her and Clay when they got home from school. And she said, "I'm never going to get to be a Christian." ARGH!

And now, as I type this, I hear Spencer, fussing because his siblings don't want to play with his streppy old self. There is stomping going on. Balled fists. Scrunched up face.

A teachable moment for him about that elusive fruit of the spirit... self control.

A teachable reminder for me that God doesn't expect us to come to him perfect. We're works in progress.

Rise and Shine!

2009-11-06T11:11:00.003-05:00

No school today for the kids, so I thought I might get to sleep in this morning. Clay is an early bird, but usually I wake up Spencer and Allison at 7 each morning. Some Saturdays, the younger two have been known to sleep until 8:30 a.m.

I had such grand plans for dream land.

Until I heard bickering in the den at 6:30 this morning. Clay and Allison. I weaved downstairs and quietly whispered an earful to them. ("Quietly" because I didn't want to wake the third munchkin up!)

Then I crawled back in bed. Bruce hopped in the shower a few minutes later.

And then Spencer crawled in bed with me.

All before 7 a.m.

What is wrong with these kids?! It's a day off!!

But Spencer had such a smiley face when he scooted over to me. What can a mom do but smile back and start the day, grateful.

Spencer loves to be tickled, so we got in a few minutes of that before we settled in for a deep discussion.

It was his turn to tickle me and he had my arms pinned over my head while he sat on my belly. I have to note that he had an unfair advantage because my legs were still all bunched up under the covers. But he is extraordinarily strong for such a string bean.

He was letting me rest in between pokes when he said, "I want to look up your nose."

And if that's not an indication of a soon-to-follow ridiculous statement, I don't know what is.

"Okay," I said.

"Hmmm," he said. "You have hair up there."

"Yes, Spencer, I know," I replied. "You do, too. Everyone does. It helps keep junk out of your nose and helps to keep you from getting sick, too."

Then he made a comment about how his great grandpa had LOTS of hair up his nose.

And coming out of his ears, too.

My grandpa is 91. He's bald as can be on top of his head, but he does have some hairy ears.

I laughed and said, "When you get old, you'll have hair growing out of your ears, too."

He looked stricken. Horrified, really.

"Oh no," Spencer said. "Then no girl will want me."

When I quit cracking up, I said, "You'll probably already be married, so you should be safe."

And then his precious 7-year-old logic kicked in and he said, "Yeah, and by then, she'll have hairy ears, too."

What a great way to start the day.

Lead Me

2009-11-04T08:15:00.002-05:00

Loving this song. I know it's a remake, and I've never heard the original, but I love the way these guys sing it.

Chris and Conrad's version of "Lead Me to the Cross".

My Job Title

2009-10-26T16:01:00.006-04:00

"What was I thinking?"

I've been wondering that question for the past few minutes.

Spencer's teacher called. Because his class is having some parents come in to discuss their jobs to give the children ideas on what careers they might be interested in when they get older. His teacher wanted to know if I might be willing to come in and tell the kids about my job.

"Uhhhh, you do know that I'm a stay-at-home mom, right?" I asked.

I had visions of children with their eyes glazing over as I describe how many times a day I open and shut the washing machine.

I pictured mouths hanging open with droplets of spittle dribbling on desks as I explain that in between loads of laundry I'm sometimes on my hands and knees, scrubbing toilets. (Out of kindness and love for my Spencer, I won't share with his class that it is often his bad aim that causes me such in depth sessions with my toilet.)

I imagined little girls gagging as I pondered telling them about the day I'd just had, which started with me taking a glass of my older son's urine to his pediatrician to see if there was any sugar in it as an indication of diabetes (there wasn't).

"Yes," Spencer's teacher said, "but I also know that you used to be a journalist, or still are."

Well, I was. Many moons ago.

And like a ding-dong, I agreed to do it. I'm not even sure why. Except that I love my kids. And I think their teachers are pretty great. I also think they attend the best elementary school in the area. I'm there nearly as often as I'm at home. And I'd do just about anything to support that place and the staff.

We figured out a day and time that would work best.

And then I asked, "Who else is coming?"

A veterinarian's assistant.

An ER doctor.

An air traffic control operator.

And me. A stay-at-home mom.

Oh shoot!

No, really. Please, shoot. As in "Shoot me now before I embarrass my child."

So I explained the situation to Spencer. And then I asked him what my job was.

"To keep us safe."

I hugged him.

Then I asked Allison what she thinks Mommy does all day.

"Nothing."

"Really, Allison? Nothing?" I needed clarification.

"Just be lazy," she replied.

I'm thinking I need to sharpen my PR skills on that kid!

I started to panic a little though, so I went downstairs. And I found them.

The boxes.

Boxes of proof of a former lifetime. Back when I had a job that guaranteed me a pay check. One that I could cash!

I dug around and found the Today's CPA magazine that showed my last published work. From a decade ago. I pulled it out.

Then I found the plaque that was awarded to me from the Arkansas AP for first place in education reporting at the last newspaper that I worked at 12 years ago. I pulled that out, too.

I dove back in and found the newspaper that contained the article that won the award. I re-read it.

"Not too shabby," I thought.

Then I found Clay and asked him what he thought my job was.

"To take care of us," he said.

I let him read the award-winning article I'd written 12 years ago. When he was done, I asked him what he thought. He said it was good.

"Did you know I had that in me?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "I knew."

I have no idea what I'll share with Spencer's classmates. Maybe a little about journalism and a little about being a stay-at-home mom. What they might ask me? That's a frightening mystery to me right now.

What I do know is that I used to be a journalist who wanted to be a mom when she grew up.

Sharing Some Love

2009-10-25T13:49:00.000-04:00

The smartest girl I know has seen fit to pass me a blog award, and I think that's pretty neat.

I know Cathy, of Stay in the Car Mom fame, from Bible Study Fellowship and church. Let me assure you that you don't want to be up against this lady in any game of Bible trivia! But she has many other fine qualities, so you'll want to go to her blog and meet her.

Anyway, here's the award.

And here's my mission impossible.

The Best Blog Award rules are:

1) To accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his/her blog link.

2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you have recently discovered and think are great! Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Fifteen blogs!? That's tough. Because I've slowed way down on my blog lurking.

I hate to not follow all the rules. That's so not me. But I'm going to break a rule now. (Forgive me, Cathy!)

Instead of passing the award on, I'll share some links to a few blogs I'm checking out after finding them listed in a magazine I skimmed while waiting to have a prescription filled recently. They're all related to home decorating. Not because I have such great skill in that arena. Ask anyone! I just like the pretty pictures.

Here are some links for you to enjoy.

designspongeonline

ikeahacker

creaturecomforts

SFGirlbyBay

Decor8blog

Foreshadowing

2009-10-20T09:24:00.015-04:00

I've been going through pictures that Bruce and I took while we were on our trip out west. Oh, it was such a great trip! I want to do it again. But I'd rather cram those eight days into four so I won't miss the kids so much. Or maybe even take them along next time.

It's going to take awhile to upload all the pictures onto the blog, and even then, they won't do the area justice. It's truly stunning. But very different than home, which I still think is one of the most beautiful areas God created, too.

While we were gone, we rented a Mustang convertible to drive around in. Mostly because Bruce is thinking of selling his motorcycle and getting a Mustang convertible. We thought a long test drive would help him be certain if that's what he wants to do. (Anybody in the market for a nice motorcycle?)

As we toured through three different states, we enjoyed the Sirius satellite radio the car was equipped with. Otherwise, we probably wouldn't have had any radio in some places we drove, because we were way out in the boonies.

I have always loved music and listening to the radio. But about 10 years ago, I quit listening to mainstream music and went solely to contemporary Christian music. It wasn't a conscious decision. We lived in a suburb of Dallas at the time and there was a wonderful station that I found and just stuck with.

Then when we moved back to Bruce's home town, I felt blessed to find another great Christian radio station, so it never really occurred to me to find a mainstream station.

Bruce has stuck with mainstream music. And sometimes he'll have me listen on the computer to a song that he likes. But most of the time, I haven't agreed with him. So many mainstream songs have lyrics that just rub me wrong because of my beliefs as a Christian.

We played a little game of radio shuffle while we were on our trip. And once while Bruce was having his way, I heard a song that I just loved. I thought, "I could even let the kids listen to this one." Granted, it's probably a song that my brothers would have made fun of me for listening to, like they did when Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue" came out. (Seriously. How can you not like "Electric Avenue"? Brothers! What do they know?!)

Here's the song.

The band's music video is better, but I can't upload that here. Go to this link if you want to see it. It has tons of cool old toys in the video. It's worth seeing just for that.

So now I've programmed a mainstream station into my radio in the van. I'll hop over there if the two Christian stations I listen to are both playing commercials or something else I don't want to hear. And if I hear some of the songs that we heard on our trip, I get all warm and fuzzy.

Topic change.

I felt like I should warn you. Because Bruce says I change topics without warning when I talk. I can't see why that's a problem for him. After being married for 15 years, he should be reading my mind by now, right?

The other day, Clay brought home a flyer. The kids are always bringing home flyers for one activity or another. This one was for the local Ruritan's football homecoming. For a dance. For grades 4 through 7.

What?!

Since when do Fourth graders go to dances? I know I just turned 40 and all that, but the first dance I ever went to was a friend's birthday party when I was in Sixth grade. The first public dance I ever actually went to was when I was in the Seventh grade.

And I remember them both being awkward. Really awkward. Boys on one side of the gym, girls on the other. Slow dancing like two stiff robots standing a foot apart. (Now that I'm a parent, I'm thinking that part sounds okay.)

You know, there's a reason that most schools separate elementary kids from junior high kids. (Yes, I know. In this area, it's supposed to be called "middle school". I'm feeling rebellious so I'm going with what it was called where I lived when I was that age!)

I also know that the grade that separates them fluctuates. My school considered Sixth grade still elementary. Sixth grade is middle school... junior high... here.

Fourth grade?! That's nuts. My boy isn't even a double digit age yet!

So, you see, I was in a quandary. Because every single one of those thoughts above flew through my head in about two seconds after I read that flyer.

I didn't want Clay to go. But Bruce accuses me of being overprotective, and I agree that that's my nature, so I try to be realistic and at least consider things before I just blurt out, "No. No way. Not my baby. Not now. Please, he was just learning to crawl, like, last week!"

I spent about five minutes trying to be realistic. But it just wasn't working for me.

I spent five more minutes trying to come up with a good, valid reason I could tell Clay he couldn't go. A reason that wouldn't make him feel like a baby. Because he is growing up. And that's all nice and normal and the way things are supposed to be. I considered purposely planning something else on the date of the dance and pencilling it on the calendar really quickly. But that felt like a lie, so I didn't.

I hadn't come up with a single good reason when I called Clay into the kitchen to talk. I figured I'd wing it after a quickly mumbled, "Jesus, help me."

I held up the flyer as Clay walked in and he immediately saw it.

"Yeah, Mom, I know about the dance," he said. "I don't want to go, okay? I'm too young. Plus, I can't even dance."

I felt my jaw unclench and my belly unwind. Still, I had to play it cool.

"Well, Clay, you know, I can teach you to dance," I said without any noticeable warbling.

But he was certain. He did not want to go. I fought the urge to say, "Well, okay, if you insist, I certainly won't make you go." I didn't think I could be a good enough actress to carry that scene very well.

God blessed us with Clay. He has such a good head on his shoulders. He gets that from his daddy. And his Daddy!

After supper, with Bruce, Clay and me in the kitchen, I showed Clay how to dance.

I'm pretty sure that helped set in concrete his decision to skip the dance!

Know something else? A few days later, Clay came home with a birthday party invitation. And the party was being held the same night as the dance.

Nice touch, Lord. Thank you very much!

Back to the Beginning... of Summer

2009-10-09T08:52:00.003-04:00

I'm very far behind on blogging. What can I say? Life happens. Still, I wanted to post about our family vacation to Pennsylvania in early July so my mom and Oma could see pictures of the kids.

Our first stop was Gettysburg. We camped at a "family" campground. But it was Biker Week in Gettysburg. The combination wasn't a good one for us and we ended up thankful that we weren't in Gettysburg long.

We started off by heading to the Gettysburg National Military Park Museum and Visitor Center where we found this great field of flowers.

We bought a CD that allowed you to self-tour the battle grounds.

I wimped out of climbing some of the higher observation towers. I felt like I could see just fine from where I was. Bruce took my picture on his way up the tower with the kids. It's not that I'm actually afraid of heights. I just don't like seeing my kids in that situation. And I'm not overly fond of feeling the sway of a structure I'm standing on.

Here's Clay at the top of one of the monuments. It was either at Big Round Top or Little Round Top... I can't remember which.

And the same monument with all of them on top.

The kids and I took a breather from walking around by sitting down on a bench inside the Gettysburg National Cemetery, the site at which President Abraham Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863.

It was very moving to read the words to his address after seeing so much of the battlefield.

Lincoln said, "We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate - we cannot consecrate - we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here."

I was never a good history student, but I love visiting historical sites. I'm hoping that visits like these will make history come more alive for my kids than it did for me at their age.

After subjecting the kids to hours of history, we decided to decompress by heading to Boyd's Bear Country. On the way, we stopped at our first covered bridge. My aim was to have Clay take a picture of just Bruce and me, but Spencer crashed our photo.

Guess what? We got to the Boyd's Bear place about five minutes after it closed. You can imagine how that went over with the kids. So we just let them play on the grounds for a bit and decided we'd go back again the next morning.

The next day, after our spending spree at Boyd's Bear, we went to visit The Historic Round Barn and Farm Market nearby.

They had a cool little place for kids in the middle at the silo. Spencer took advantage of that while I bought fresh blueberries and some apple butter, Clay's favorite.

That was it for the portion of our trip near Gettysburg. The rest of our trip we camped at Lake in Wood Resort in Narvon, Pennsylvania. It was an awesome campground.

We arrived near dusk and decided to go on a walk/bike ride around the camp grounds, knowing we needed to get back to our site before dark because the kids didn't have lights on their bikes. From our camp site back to the playground and check-in area, the road looped. We played on the playground a bit and started heading back.

Allison darted ahead of us before we got to the split in the road where you could take a right or left on the looped road to get back to our site, but by the time the rest of us got to that spot, she was long gone. And we had no idea which direction she had gone. And both directions had side streets to veer off of. And it was in a wooded area, so it was dark enough where passing cars would not easily see my little bicycling girl.

These things stress me out. Not to mention my basic distrust of people and the thought of someone snatching my daughter.

I told Clay to bike ahead, fast, to see if she had made it back to the camp site.

Long story, short... Allison was safely back at the site, clueless to the stress she'd caused. I reamed her out for riding off on her own and giving me hundreds of extra gray hair I don't need.

But while it was just me, Bruce and Spencer worrying on the walk back, Spencer asked me why I didn't let him ride ahead to look for her. I didn't want to make him feel like a baby and say, "You're too little for that" because he thinks he can do anything his older brother can do. Before I could come up with a good answer, Spencer said, "I know why. It's so you'll have at least one kid left if you lose those other two."

That was a much needed laugh right about that point.

We try to factor in some lazy days when we do our family camping vacations. That's for me and the kids. Bruce would run non-stop every which way. The rest of us need a break!

Our next day of vacation, we stayed at the campsite and relaxed part of the day and the other part we went swimming. Well, the kids swam. Bruce and I read and watched. But we were in our swimsuits in case we needed to jump in. (At this point, though, the kids are better swimmers than I am.)

Our ever-present checkers board made an appearance, too, for a challenge between Allison and Bruce.

Spencer noticed this little bunny one day behind our camper. We crept around and got a few pictures of him. He visited us nearly every day we were there.

At some point on one of our laid-back days, Spencer fell down the metal stairs leaving the camper. He skinned up his back a bit and bruised his rear end pretty badly. He was so sore, poor kid. We didn't even know about his bottom being bruised until shower time that night. He took one look in the mirror after he saw my reaction to how bad it looked and his face just crumpled. He said, near tears, "I'm going to have to be good for a few days so I don't get any spankings."

Pennsylvania farmers grow a lot of corn. A lot! After awhile, every time we'd come upon a field of corn, the kids would say, "What? More corn?!"

I like visiting state capital buildings, and Bruce and I have been to several since we've been married. This trip to a new state wasn't going to pass without a visit to Harrisburg and the Pennsylvania state capital building.

The kids hopped around outside on the grounds nearby before we went in.

Bruce took this picture for me. I joked and told him that in a parallel universe, this is where I'd be working. Oh, some days I miss reporting. But not enough to give up my current position!

Ah-ha! The Ten Commandments. In a government building. I'm sure someone somewhere is in a tizzy about this.

And, finally. What the kids had all been looking forward to. Well, almost. From the parking lot...

We went on the hokey little tour that tells you how the chocolate is made three times. Because they gave out free Hershey bars at the end each time.

Then we headed to Hershey Gardens, which overlooks the amusement park, planning to go back to the amusment park IF the kids' happy moods and good behavior held out. Can you tell where my crew would rather have been before the gardens? Hey, the gardens were my bit. I insisted.

And Spencer, my little gardening shadow, got on board quick enough.

This tree was so cool. It was like being inside of a natural umbrella. We were perfectly cocooned underneath.

Spencer and Allison sitting on top of upside-down Hershey kisses.

The park also had a neat butterfly house, which was so full of butterflies that they asked us to do a quick check for "hitchhikers" stuck on our shirts before we left the building.

Then we went to Hershey Park.

I didn't take a lot of pictures at the amusement park, so I'll share this story. We went on a ride at night that was a little like a ski lift that took you over the park grounds, including a small lake. Bruce loaded on the first chair lift with Clay and Allison, and Spencer and I took the second chair lift behind them. I tried to take a couple of pictures, but because it was dark, they didn't turn out.

I was wearing my Birkenstocks and kept flexing my feet to be sure my shoes wouldn't fall off and go straight into the lake.

When we got off the ride, Bruce and Clay and Allison were waiting for us, and they weren't looking happy.

And Clay was wearing only a sock on one foot.

I thought, "No, please. Not the shoe!"

Sure enough. Bruce and Clay told me that Clay had lost his one-size-too-large shoe over the lake.

I was steamed. We were on vacation. They were play shoes, because we don't pack good shoes when we camp. I didn't want to shell out any money to buy a new pair so he could ruin them camping.

Then those boogers started laughing! And Clay pulled his shoe from behind his back.

Oh, they got me so good!

More swimming at the campground on another relaxing day.

And on another drive... What? More corn?!

These people are serious about their corn cribs.

This picture was taken as we were leaving the campground one morning. I wish I was a painter, because I'd have to capture this scene. Beautiful!

We passed what I thought might be an Amish funeral, but none of the Amish were around, so I had Bruce turn the car around and take a picture of their buggies all lined up.

We spent part of our day at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strasburg. The kids really enjoyed that.

There was this interactive area that allowed the kids to run model trains.

And this area was made of LEGOs. I had no idea until we got home and I was looking at these pictures that the glass area I'm pointing over says "Do not lean or reach over glass." Oops!

Then we headed to Lapp Valley Farm, on the recommendation of another lady at the campground who said if we timed it right, we might get to see the cows being milked. Our kids have never seen that, so I thought they'd enjoy it. But let's face it... the big draw was the homemade ice cream they were selling! It was yummy! But I think the kids enjoyed the animals the most.

Back at the campground on another day. We had a perfect camp site, right on a large circular drive that was just right for biking. Spencer worked on riding without hands.

The campground also had a lake where you could rent row boats or paddle boats. Bruce took the kids for a ride, and I snapped pictures from the shore.

And that's all, folks. Finally!

Older and Wiser

2009-10-07T07:31:00.001-04:00

Today I turn 40.

Go ahead. Be shocked. I know I am.

I thought this birthday would bother me, but turning 30 was harder. And that one might have bothered me more if it wasn't for a little pregnancy test coming back positive. After that, turning 30 was a cake walk.

My mother told me the other day that she read that most people still think of themselves as 15 years younger than their actual age. I like that. Today, I plan to be 25 again. So what if it's all in my head? It has good company... there are an awful lot of things that are "all in my head".

I have come to a sudden conclusion about why men and women age differently. It required deep thought on my part.

You see, for women, we start having regular medical check-ups (the kind that require stirrups) fairly early in life. In general, some time between the ages of 16 and when we first suspect we're pregnant. And then, when we turn 40, insult is added to injury when we flatten our chests into pancakes for our first mammogram. (Mine's tomorrow. Yippee. Try not to visualize... that's what I keep telling myself!)

For men, they strut through life rarely visiting their primary care physician unless they feel like they are:

A.) birthing a baby (otherwise known as "kidney stones") or
B.) about to die from the world's worst case of the flu ever... and even then they only go to the doctor to get their wives to hush.

For most healthy men, regular doctor's visits don't start until they have their first colonoscopy, usually at age 50.

That's a lot of years to live without endless waiting room visits and doctor appointments.

And it's not like a doctor who performs colonoscopies might leave a patient for hours to deliver someone else's baby. Plus, aren't we moms the ones who typically take the children for all their check-ups?

Waiting rooms and doctor's offices... they're sucking the life right out of us gals!

I could very well still be 25 if I subtracted all the time I've spent on medical appointments.

You want to know what my most expensive birthday present is going to be?

My mammogram. Our insurance company covers it at 100 percent.

This month is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you're 40 or older, schedule one. And try not to count how long you wait in the waiting room.

It'll just give you gray hair.

Things to Come

2009-09-24T16:03:00.004-04:00

I think it's funny to note that my boys have both received phone calls from young female classmates, but my daughter has yet to have a young boy call her. (And it isn't because she isn't pretty. All bias aside, my girl is plenty cute! Trust me... we'll be beating the boys off with sticks one day. I'm not trying to brag, I just want you to understand my girl isn't some barking dog.)

Girls calling our boys is funny because, even though I realize that our children are really young and nowhere near dating age, I have already stressed to our kids that, in our family when they get older, the boys can call young ladies, whereas Allison cannot call boys.

A "friendly" call is not what I'm talking about. That's different. I can see Allison calling a boy to ask about a school assignments she might have missed. She can ask a boy about the score of a football game on the phone. She can even call a friend who happens to be a boy to mention an event their mutual group of friends plans to attend. At church. On a Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon. Where plenty of adult chaperones will be.

But Allison won't be allowed to call any boys whose names conjure up silly giggles and sparkly eyes.

I feel strongly that a young lady should not chase a young boy via the telephone. A young boy should have the guts to call my girl if he's interested in her. And my boys should develop the boldness to call when they become interested in a girl. I know it's not the way things are always done these days. But it's the way I think they should be done.

The young girls who have called our boys aren't chasing them. (At least I don't think they are! And it's not because our boys aren't handsome. All bias aside, my boys are way cute. Trust me.... oh, you know what I mean!) The parts of the conversations I've heard are hilarious. Painful pauses while both parties think of what they have to talk about on the phone that they didn't just say to each other at school. My boys usually end up asking, "Why did you call me?" And then the conversation is over. Typically, the girls don't call again. I'm okay with that.

I have to share Spencer's latest phone call, because we weren't home and the machine picked it up. Obviously, I won't share the little girl's name.

I still haven't erased the message, even though she called early this week. I keep playing it back and giggling.

Here it is, word for word, including nervous ticks:

"Um, can I talk to Spencer? It's, like, I have nothing to do. So if he is home, or if this is the actual number for Spencer.... Spencer Moody. My number is.... This is.... So just tell him to call me if he'd like. I don't care if he doesn't. He can just call me or whatever. Okay. Bye."

I can't listen to the message any more with Spencer around. I think he's going to start to get mad at all the laughing I do when I hear it.

For the record, I am not laughing at this little girl's expense. It's a very innocent phone message. It's sweet.

I'll have a different reaction when it happens when our boys are teenagers. And don't even get me started if the phone calls happen after 9 p.m. I can't be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth at that point.

I'm working on uploading pictures of our family vacation to Pennsylvania this summer. I'll finish eventually.

Then I'll post pictures of our trip out west without the kids.

Setting an Example

2009-09-01T10:37:00.007-04:00

Almost two months ago, I started exercising again.

I don't like to exercise. But I decided that between exercising and dieting, exercising was the lesser of the evils. I like to eat, and I normally don't overdo it. Obviously if I wanted my clothes to fit better then the dragon to be conquered had to be exercise.

This go 'round with exercise has been inspired by a few things.

First, I turn 40 really soon. Too soon. Exercising at 39-year-old body is bound to be easier than exercising a 40-year-old body, so I figured I better get started.

Second, I noticed over the summer that while my boys wanted to be outside for long stretches, sweating and going at 90 MPH constantly, my sweet Allison was doing the opposite. In fact, she'd be outside a mere 10 minutes before asking if she could go inside to get a Popsicle, because she was "sooooo hot". And after eating her Popsicle, she'd sneak back inside and go play with her dolls in her room.

Obviously, her mother needed to set a better example. (Nobody really stresses that fact before you have kids, you know?)

I already had the "Hit the Spot Pilates" DVD by Denise Austin that I bought a few years ago after my physical therapist suggested that pilates would help with a chronic back ache I have.

And then I read about Jillian Michaels' "30 Day Shred" DVD, which was just a 20-minute workout. So I bought it.

My motto is now two fold:

"I can do anything for 20 minutes." I've cleaned vomit for 20 minutes. I birthed three babies for well over 20 minutes. I clean three toilets in our house in about 20 minutes. I can do 20 minutes of exercise!

And when I am tempted to give up, because I don't see the results I want, either on the scale or in how my pants fit, I repeat this, "Twenty minutes is better than what I was doing." And what I was doing was nothing. Unless you count how often I climb stairs at home. There are a lot of stairs in our house, but I doubt climbing them even a few dozen times a day was doing my heart any favors. You'd be surprised how slowly you can climb stairs if you really put yourself into it.

I started exercising during the summer while the kids could do it with me. And I alternate between the two DVDs because, seriously, I just can't do that 30 Day Shred two days in a row. There have been mornings after a Jillian session that I wish someone would blow dry my hair for me. And a few mornings that I felt like I'd been horseback riding the whole day before.

I noticed that the boys would do the whole workout with me, but Allison would quit about 10 minutes into it. (Evidently this setting an example stuff requires longer than a month or two.)

Yesterday, Allison said something to me that makes me think I need to re-evaluate exercising in front of the kids.

"Mom, you know on the exercise video how you can see that girl's bones stick out?" she asked.

"Allison, those aren't her bones; those are her muscles," I said.

"Yeah, her muscles," she said. "That's what I meant. She has those because she's been doing it for a long time."

I agreed. And then she went for the jugular.

"You need some of that, mom," my precious angel told me, "because I'm not seeing any of that with you."

Nice.

I could take that all personal like and quit this torture exercise, but I won't.

Because 40 continues to approach. And my girl still needs a fitness example.

Plus, I can do anything for 20 minutes. And 20 minutes is more exercise than I was doing before.

Oh, and there's always the wisdom that comes from Dr. Greg House. Yes, he's a TV character, but so what?

His wisdom? "Everybody lies." Even my little girl.

Regardless of what my daughter thinks, I know I have muscles.

I know it's true, because they hurt!

Perspective

2009-08-25T17:05:00.000-04:00

It's been an interesting day.

I woke up, unprompted, at 5:30 a.m. Since my alarm was set for 6, it seemed pointless to try to go back to sleep. After praying for a few minutes, I went downstairs to let Jillian Michaels kick my tail with her DVD torture. (For the record, I was praying for people... not for mercy. Tomorrow I'll pay dearly for that oversight.)

I planned to eat lunch with Clay at school today because, the cafeteria was serving pizza. That cinched the deal for me. Tomorrow, I planned to eat with Spencer. The cafe menu? Spaghetti. Thursday was going to be Allison's day. Hamburgers. (The kid's say their school burgers are the best! But then again, they're pretty big on McDonald's burgers, too.)

Plans are made for scrapping, though, right?

Halfway to driving the kids to school, I realized I'd again forgotten to give Clay his allergy meds. I'm so glad we live only five minutes from their school.

Still, I had a van full of some mega dusty valances that needed an appointment with a dry cleaners, so I figured I'd get the allergy meds up to Clay after I dropped off the crusty curtains.

First though, I dropped off an application for a part-time position within the county school system. And because one detour deserves another, I decided that I was near the driver's license renewal place, so I better go get that done.

While I was there, some guy asked me if a pretty young lady near me was mine. As in, my daughter.

Now, she was pretty, so that was good. But she had a baby with her, too. Which just means he thinks I'm old enough to be a grandma.

And that's when it hit me. I AM old enough to be a grandma. Albeit a young one, but if I'd had a child at the same age that my mom had her first, and then my child did the same...

Yeah, I'm getting old.

But I didn't let that fester.

Because my new driver's license picture is awesome! Really. Probably the best I've ever had. (Wrinkles and gray hair don't show in those things.) Ask me if you can see it anytime and I'll flash it for you. The picture. Only. Because everything else is gray and wrinkled and no longer flash worthy. Not that I've ever had any flashing tendencies. Well, maybe when I was a baby. Don't all babies love to run around the house naked?! (It's because they aren't gray. And wrinkles without gray is a good thing. On babies.)

I had been home only a short time, basking in the glow of knowing I had no visible double chins on my new driver's license photo, when the phone rang. It was the school nurse.

"Allison fell and busted her chin on a desk. It looks like it might need some... (PAUSE)... attention," she said.

"Stitches?" I asked.

"Or glue," she replied.

I thanked the nurse for not using the dreaded "S" word within Allison's hearing, and said I'd be at the school in a minute. I grabbed Clay's Claritin on the way out the door.

At the school, I traded the nurse my wounded girl for my son's medicine and asked her to deliver a message to Clay that I'd need to rain check on our lunch date.

I have no idea what to do about stitches. That should be evident if you read about Clay's head wound, which I blogged about only two weeks ago. I called the kids' pediatrician, but they don't do stitches.

ER? I was really hoping not. Bruce called the urgent care clinic while I was running to the school and found out I could take her there.

To distract Allison on the way there, I showed her my old driver's license picture as compared to my new, dazzling photo. She was impressed, I could tell. She confirmed the new one was better by saying, "In your old one, you look like you just had a baby."

In fact I'd just had twins. Her and her brother.

Except it was actually two years before that picture was taken. (It wasn't a restful time in my life. Pictures don't lie.)

It seems we were a little too distracted, because as she handed me my driver's licenses back, I noticed two Tennessee Highway Patrol cars, facing opposite directions. Probably with radar guns.

I was going about 12 miles over the speed limit.

"I think I just got a ticket, honey," I said to Allison.

And though I hate to admit it, I fully planned to use my daughter's injury to plead my case with an officer.

I guess the THP had bigger fish to fry than a mini-van though, and we drove the rest of the way to the clinic going the appropriate speed limit. (I set the cruise control to be sure.)

No need for stitches, thankfully. My girlie's chin is glued. No shots, no needles, no trauma. For her or me.

AND... the best part... we got back to the school by lunch time. So I decided to go ahead and eat pizza with Allison. I'll eat lunch with Clay on either spaghetti or hamburger day.

After lunch, I headed to Wal-mart for groceries and a birthday pinata. I found all my groceries but didn't like Wal-mart's pinata selection. I don't know where else to look for one either since the nearby party supply place closed recently. I guess if I don't find one, I'll stuff an empty shoebox with candy and treats and wrap it with colored tissue paper and let the kids whack at that. (I'm serious. I'll do it. I'm not disillusioned one bit about my sorely lacking party throwing abilities.)

At the check-out lane, my cashier was a 78-year-old man.

Seventy. Eight. Years. Old.

I heard him tell the person in line in front of me when he asked.

I wouldn't have asked.

Actually, I was impressed. That man was better than some of the cashiers I've had at Wal-mart who are younger than me. That's not saying much though, considering that I'm old enough to be a grandma.

I called my mother-in-law on my cell on the way home from Wally World to let her know about Allison's glued chin, because she planned to pick up the kids after school today. And while juggling the phone with groceries and opening a door, I dropped my cell phone.

R.I.P.

I passed up a chance months ago to upgrade to a new cell phone. I like my old phone. I can work about half of the functions on my old phone. That's a record for me.

I put away groceries and then started watching for the kids to get off the bus. Yesterday was the first day I let the kids ride the bus home this year.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Hmmm, they're later today than yesterday," I thought.

Then I saw the bus. It stopped at the right spot. But then my neighbor's middle school son got off.

My kids did not.

Not that they normally ride the same bus.

Last year, the bus would run the middle school and high school students and then the same bus would repeat that route with the elementary kids.

I checked my watch, thinking I'd pulled the stem on accident and re-set it all wrong and sped it up an hour. Why not? The whole day had been odd so far.

Finally, I went outside and talked to my neighbor's son. Evidently his bus gets home only shortly before my kids bus does and they no longer ride the same bus. All because bus routes were cut and reassigned this year.

I'm pretty sure my neighbor's son now wants to avoid me at all cost.

I'm also pretty sure I don't need to be waking up at 5:30 again any time soon. Jillian can just wait until our regular appointment at 6!

I'm really tired right now and in an hour we're meeting our realtor to look at this house that we've half fallen in love with. A house that's pretty much completely unattainable for us right now without God's intervention with timing the sale of our current home, which isn't even on the market yet.

I believe in miracles though, so we're going. Every other house we've bought has been His doing so why not this one, too?

This day has been interesting.

No Time To Waste

2009-08-24T10:21:00.004-04:00

Seven years ago today, I was sitting in a hospital bed, wondering when I'd get my Pitocin so I could finally get a glimpse of two little pods who had completely overtaken my body and turned it into a house.

All along in my pregnancy I was assured that twins typically deliver early and that the labors for second pregnancies move along faster.

Whatever!

I was induced at 37 1/2 weeks, which was considered full term. I was induced to avoid going into labor and hitting Nascar race traffic and delivering in a car instead of a hospital. And, seriously, I think my doctor decided to induce me partly because it pained her to see my bloated used-to-be ankles for even just one more visit.

Spencer and Allison arrived in the evening, just like their singleton-birthed brother. Only an hour quicker than my first delivery. Fourteen minutes separated their respective entrances. Spencer weighed 6 pounds and 14 ounces; Allison weighed 7 pounds and 6 ounces.

I've written down the birth stories for all our children. (Clay's is a bit more detailed though - I had more time during that pregnancy!) I just read over Spencer and Allison's, and I'm going to read it to them when they get home from school this afternoon.

How has seven years passed? Some things I remember very well.

I remember often thinking "God, what are you doing giving us two babies at once? Can't you see I'm clearly not twin-mommy material?".

Clearly, I was wrong. (I'm grateful God loves me even when I second guess Him... and in spite of my vocally expressing it.)

I remember laughing through my horror when Clay announced that my post-twin-pregnancy belly was "hilly". He suggested I iron it. And as much as I hate ironing, I'd have done it in a heartbeat if I thought it would have worked.

I remember feeling like a Jersey cow during the two weeks I nursed those babies, under the stupid notion that both had to be fed simultaneously. I remember crying, telling Bruce, "You are so supportive of my wanting to nurse these babies... will you be supportive when I tell you I have to stop, because I am not connecting to these babies like I did their brother and I feel horribly guilty about it and I think it's all hormonal."

I remember sitting on the floor in our den, happily feeding Spencer and Allison formula through bottles while they were strapped into their bouncy seats, thankful to God that I did develop all those warm, gushy Momma feelings for them both.

I remember not sleeping more than two hours at a stretch for the first two months Spencer and Allison were alive. I also remember how our microwave was broken during one very tired mini fit, thrown during an early-morning feeding (Bruce did it, not me.). I remember my mother-in-law coming to my house after she completed a full day of work at her job to play with Clay and watch Spencer and Allison while I climbed back into bed for a nap.

I remember being grateful that both babies learned to sleep through the night a full month earlier than their brother did. And that they each walked just a little bit later than Clay did, because chasing two was vastly different than chasing one.

And then I remember a first birthday. And a second. And after the third birthday, it didn't even feel so much like we were a family with twins. We became simply a family with three children.

But I don't remember how all that happened. How we got from having babies to having elementary school aged kids.

Despite the inevitable bumps that have come along the way, I've always thought, "This is my favorite stage. This is the best age."

And I still think that.

Aside from Jesus and Bruce, these three children, who vigorously push every button I have, sometimes several times a day... they are my greatest treasure, my most prized blessing, my hand-picked gifts from God.

Monster Treehouse

2009-08-17T08:14:00.030-04:00

Time to post some pictures from our summer. I'm so far behind.

We went camping in early July in Crossville. It was a trip made for dual purposes - for my family to have a getaway and to spend some time with my grandpa in Cookeville, which is about a 30 minute drive from Crossville.

Last time we camped in Crossville, we stayed at Deer Run RV Resort, but it was booked solid for the weekend we planned to go. During this trip, we stayed at the Beanpot Campground, mostly because my kids love eating at The Bean Pot restaurant.

Considering that we spent one entire day of the weekend visiting with grandpa, we still did plenty around the campground and Crossville.

It only took a little foosball playing at the clubhouse to remember that I stink at that game. Allison isn't much better. And the boys didn't even care about how good or bad they were, as long as a ball was flying.

A little time on the playground.

Then we went to a tree house. But not just your average wooden structure like what you see in the backyard's of many families with children. This tree house was more like a wooden mini skyscraper and looked a bit like it was built by artist M.C. Escher. My apologies to Escher, though, because based on what I was told at the tree house, this structure was built without a level or a measuring tape. I'm not sure how true that is, but I'm doubtful that any great engineering mathematics went into the construction.

From the very top, if you looked toward an adjoining field, you could see this:

The whole tree house was very creative. There was a room that looked like a rustic sanctuary, a small room with a real toilet in it (sans actual plumbing), and on one balcony area there was even a bathtub, maybe to simulate a redneck hot tub effect.

Clay told Allison to sit in the tub so Bruce could get a picture, but she was having none of that because the tub was pretty dirty. I was up for it though. (Seriously, we were camping. None of us are out our cleanest state while camping except for after our nightly baths while we sleep.) I'm not showing the picture, because I look like an idiot. I only mention it because right after Bruce clicked the picture, I hopped up and did what I should have done before I laid in that tub. I made a closer inspection of what was in there. And I wished I'd done it beforehand or not at all. I'm okay with sitting in dirt, but there were some huge, dead and dried spiders in there that I'd have preferred not to wallow in. Somewhere deep within my mental vault, a timer started... counting down how long it was going to be until my next shower.

The kids and I climbed back down the rickety, sometimes steep, stairs and found a swing that was several stories high. Bruce took this picture from his perch up high. I like it because Spencer is blurred, which is pretty much how he whizzes through life.

Bruce came down and enjoyed a turn on the swing, but when Spencer gave Bruce a push, he hung on to the bottom of the swing. I wish this was a better picture, but I was working with Bruce's beefy camera and was lucky to get anything in focus!

Stay tuned for more posting some other day.

Hard Headed

2009-08-08T10:47:00.002-04:00

I've always said my kids are hard-headed. But this past week, both boys decided to prove me right. (Not that I needed proof.)

We've been visiting another church on and off a few times this summer, wondering if God would have us change where we attend. The kids have been resistant, because who at that age is okay with change?

Clay has probably been the most at ease, because he knows a bunch of kids from school who attend at the church we've been visiting. Spencer has been okay, because he's Spencer and can conquer the world. He has fussed a little, but nothing major.

Allison has cried twice when we've dropped her off for Sunday school... even though one of her school buddies is in class with her. And so is Spencer, for that matter. Of all the places I've dropped these children off (Sunday school, Awanas, VBS, BSF, kindergarten), she has never been a crier.

Still, that's how last Sunday started off. It was emotionally draining for me. We told the kids they could all go with us to "big church" instead of staying in children's church, and then we pulled Allison's clutched hands away from my waist and left her in her Sunday school class, bawling.

Once church time rolled around, we sat at the end of a row near the back. Spencer was in the very last seat, and he had a major case of the wiggles. The sanctuary was cold, too. So Spencer curled into a ball with his knees under his chin, feet on the chair. Then he pulled his shirt over his knees and tucked his arms in as well.

Within minutes, his wiggles resumed and he somehow rolled right out of his seat onto the floor. (Because, while Spongebob may have a square butt, my children do not.) Spencer smacked his forehead pretty solidly on the ground when he landed.

My memory at this point is all in slow motion. I looked down and realized Spencer's face was scrunched up, his mouth was open after sucking air in and he was getting ready to let all that air out in a giant wail. In the middle of the preacher's sermon about opposition happening when you are trying to do what the Lord leads you to do. Yes, preacher. Do tell.

While I pulled in a deep breath to control my frustration (I had just told Spencer to put his feet down off the chair and to sit still), I realized Spencer's mouth was full of blood.

That's when slow motion ended. I glanced at Bruce to make sure he saw the blood, and then I untangled Spencer from his shirt straitjacket and picked him up to carry him out of the church.

Two good things to note here. When Spencer gets ready to really wail, he loses his breath and takes forever to finally let it back out, so the shrieking began in earnest only once I was actually safely in the bathroom. And, despite all the blood in his mouth, my white shirt stayed white. Proof that God covers even the littlest details of our lives.

One more nice thing. Really nice, actually. Two different people, strangers from this new church, followed us and checked to make sure Spencer was okay.

He had bit his tongue. Big time.

Have you ever tried to hold a paper towel firmly to a crying child's tongue to stop bleeding? It takes awhile to work!

If I'd had my purse with me, I would have taken Spencer to the van and waited there for the rest of the family. Instead, I carried my boy with his rug-burned, pump-knotted forehead back into the sanctuary for the rest of the sermon.

On the drive home, Bruce asked the kids what they learned in Sunday school. Clay said something about Paul's missionary journeys. Allison mentioned David and Goliath.

And Spencer piped up and said, "I learned that you don't sit with your knees tucked under your shirt and your feet on the chair in church."

Last night was like Part II of a bad movie, just with a new star.

We went, first, to the school’s open house and found out who the kids’ teachers would be this year. Afterwards we went to the Moody’s house so that Roy and Bruce could load up Bruce’s truck with stuff to take to Cookeville. Brandon and Brandi bought a house there and are moving in today. Bruce and Roy left early this morning and picked up Bryan in Knoxville, so all the men are helping with the move.

There was a ladder flat on the ground in the front of the Moody’s yard and some furniture still waiting to be loaded. The kids were running around, playing with the Moody's German shepherd Rex and watching Bruce and Roy load up.

Then Clay walked backwards, tripped over the ladder and fell down and knocked his head against the corner of an oak nightstand. He instantly grabbed his head and started crying.

Sharon and I took him in the house to sit down because he said he was dizzy and it was cooler in the house. I told him to point to where it hurt on his head and I pulled his hair back… and noticed some blood. I didn’t think it was much, but by the time I parted all his hair, I found a pretty yucky gash. It was maybe an inch wide and probably a quarter of an inch deep. It looked like raw steak. I’m not used to seeing the inside of my kids' flesh. It never did gush blood though.

I went outside to get Bruce and he and Roy took a look at the gash. Up to that point, I had purposely never said the word "stitches". First, so Clay wouldn't hear it, but also so Spencer and Allison wouldn't and then repeat it to Clay. But Bruce saw the cut and said the magic word. Clay started his freak out session.

We were all pretty much thinking Clay was going to need a few stitches. But Sharon suggested I walk to her backyard neighbor and let him take a look. He’s some kind of medical professional. He took a look at Clay’s head and said if it was anywhere but in his hair, he would say take him in for stitches. But he suggested instead to take him home and then pull the edges of the wound together by pulling hair from each side and tying it in a knot over the top of the wound.

When we got home, I had Clay take a shower and wash his hair. There was blood caked all around the cut. Then I tried to knot his hair, but his hair is too silky and fine. It wouldn’t stay knotted.

I kept looking at that wound and thinking, “This really needs to be stitched.” But if I mentioned going to the hospital, Clay went nuts. He was shaking and crying so hard.

Finally, I got my scissors out and cut a big section of hair off, then took our hair trimmer and shaved part of his head around the wound. We had some butterfly bandages in our first aid kit in the camper, so Bruce brought them in and I basically pushed the wound edges together and taped them shut with the butterfly bandage. And then I put antibiotic ointment on the part of the wound that wasn’t covered by the butterfly and put a bandaid over top of that so nothing would get on the wound and it would stay clean. And so it wouldn’t bleed all over the pillow while Clay slept.

Poor kid. When we were done, he gave me a huge hug and said, “Thank you for not taking me to the hospital.”

It was a pretty traumatic evening for us both!

I'm praying it'll heal quickly without any infection. In the meantime, I’m treating him like a baby for a few days.

He had just decided to quit football on Thursday. It’s a good thing, too, because I probably wouldn’t let him play for a few more practices now anyway.

Now here's the part that just shows how warped our family is. When the whole thing started at the Moody's house, Spencer ran and found Roy’s camera to take a picture while Clay's wound was still open and oozing. We didn't take a picture though. I don't want to see that ever again.

Please, God, let us avoid stitches a whole lot longer! Forever would be nice.

Right about now I am thinking that perhaps Clay wanting his hair long was a good thing. Because most of that shag now hides his bald spot.

Back for a Bit

2009-08-04T16:17:00.000-04:00

I've been on a technology hiatus. No real reason. I didn't make the conscious decision to take a break, but every time I sat down in front of the computer, I just didn't feel like taking the time to post on the blog. And I haven't been chained to Facebook lately either.

I have a bunch of pictures from the summer to post, but no time right now.

First, an update off of my last post. My medical tests came back normal. So, for now, I'm still off the medication I mentioned. I'll go back for blood work in a few months and see if everything continues as it should be instead of all whacked.

Second, Clay has started playing football, but I'm not sure if it's a going to be a lasting thing. He loved all the equipment once he brought it home. He had Spencer and Allison smacking all over him. "Go ahead. It won't hurt me a bit."

I think he enjoys the practices, too, with all the other guys. But I don't see his heart in this sport.

We don't typically let him quit something once he starts, but we'll probably make an exception this time. Especially since the team is practicing for another month before the first game. That and the fact that I resent the intrusion into our family life... practices four nights a week, for two hours, right when we normally sit down to supper.

I know some families are big time sports nuts. And for them, it works somehow. But we are not, and it doesn't.

I want my kids to play sports for fun and fitness and to learn a sense of sportsmanship. Beyond that, family time is more crucial. And I'm a huge proponent for family dinners together. Even if dinner is just sandwiches.

Stuff came to a head last night with Clay and we had to have a talk with him. He's giving it until the end of this week and then he has to make up his mind. Keep playing or quit. But if he quits, he has to tell the coach. We won't do it for him.

We'll see how it all plays out.

But for now it's time for an early dinner, without my husband, so that I can rush Clay out the door for practice. For two hours. In an area with no playground for the younger two to play at.

It'll be fun.

Sure it will.

Downer Doctor

2009-06-25T13:59:00.000-04:00

I just got back from an annual doctor's appointment that I've been dreading. I'm not typically nervous about my appointments with my endocrinologist.

In fact, I know exactly what the doctor will do each time I go: check my peripheral vision, listen to my heart, prod around the area near my neck and collar bone, push at my ankles to check for swelling, ask me some personal questions and write an order for blood to be drawn. Every few years, I get an MRI as well.

I don't want to air my whole medical history. I only bring all this up because I'm irritated.

I take a medication for this particular ailment and have for more than a decade. Earlier this year, for the first time in a very long time, I read the pamphlet included with the drug. The one that lists every conceivable side effect. A few statements concerned me, so I called the doctor.

I didn't actually talk to the doctor. No. Because that would be too much like trying to reach The President directly. I wrote a note and faxed it to the office for the doctor to read.

Basically, I wanted to get off the medication.

I'm very hands-on about my health. I don't rely on insurance companies, hospital staff, doctors or nurses to know everything about what's going on with my body.

If there's anything that being a mom has taught me about doctors, it's that they don't know everything. They're just people. Highly educated, but often very rushed, people.

To ask to get off this medicine wasn't some flighty decision. I prayed hard about it before I made the request and quite often ever since I quit taking it. (The doctor gave his okay grudgingly. After thinking I was nuts.)

Based on results from my medical tests in past years, I have been praying that this particular issue is no longer an issue. I would like just a little miracle for me, please, Jesus.

Today's appointment, with its blood test and possible follow-up MRI, was only causing me some stress because I would find out if I get my miracle or not. Either way, I'm going to be A-Okay, because I know God's got my back. I'd just like to stop taking this medicine because I'm not a pill popper in general. And this particular medicine is stinkin' expensive!

Plus, I want to quit seeing this doctor altogether. He's okay. But I only see him once every two years - every other year I see his nurse practitioner. It's very hard to get an appointment with him.

I'd like to just have my family doctor oversee my care. I can get an appointment with him usually the day I call... worst case, within the same week.

All that background to frame today's appointment.

The doctor told me that I didn't need to be concerned about my previous medication causing the problems I'd read about since those things were only listed on the pamphlet because the drug is in a class of drugs that causes those problems. My particular drug did not.

Fine. Whatever. I still don't want to take something if I don't need it anymore. And unless my blood shows something that my body isn't making clear to me with other symptoms, then I'd like to hold out hope for my miracle, thank you very much.

Then he said, "Well, we'll check your levels and see if you need to get back on your medicine. Which I expect you will."

How rude would it be to stick out your tongue and shoot a raspberry at a medical professional?

I might have considered that response more thoroughly had I not been wearing my Third Day t-shirt. I think the Lord smiled down on me for my restraint.

I just hate it when someone rains on my parade! I'm still waiting for my miracle.

God can tell me "no" if He wants to.

A doctor cannot.

"For I am the LORD who heals you."
Exodus 15:26

Old Becomes New

2009-06-22T10:18:00.000-04:00

A college friend posted a link on his Facebook status the other day to the following video. It's a group from Slovenia singing Toto's "Africa" completely a capella. It starts with a "thunderstorm".

I thought it was so cool that I had Bruce listen, and then all three kids, too. Seriously, I got tears in my eyes. I can't tell you how many times I listened to that song so many years ago. Good times!

I was pretty sure I had an old Toto cassette with that song on it. Yes, cassette.

When I told Clay about it, he actually said, "What's a cassette?"

I moved my imaginary walker over to the entertainment center and worried about my bad hip as I got down to search through several old cassettes.

Ah-ha! There it was. My Toto cassette. Along with cassettes from Chicago, Journey, INXS, Howard Jones, The Cars, Spandau Ballet and Paula Abdul (before AI fame).

And then I found my old Walkman. Good night, that thing has to be 20 years old. At least.

Clay was fascinated. Even more so after getting me some new AA batteries and discovering the thing still worked.

I put in the Toto cassette and let him hear the original "Africa". Then I let him hear Chicago's "Hard to Say I'm Sorry" but fast forwarded through its "Stay the Night".

We moved from the 80s music to the 90s with M.C. Hammer's "Can't Touch This".

Bruce pulled up the video on YouTube so Clay could see that crazy dance thing M.C. Hammer did that looks like a woman freaking out after she sees a mouse or roach on the floor. Bruce called it The Typewriter. Works for me.

I was struck that even though the dancers' clothing was tight and some of the moves were questionable, it's nothing like the junk that's in videos these days. For that matter, it was tame compared to some of today's commercials during daytime viewing.

After tuning ye olde Walkman to the local Christian radio station, I gave it to Clay.

If he treats it like gold, he MIGHT get an MP3 player. Someday.

We tucked the kids in bed and went back downstairs. When we go up to bed, we always peep in at the kids again.

Clay fell asleep like this:

Just like his mom. A long time ago. Before I got bifocals and dentures.

Our Goofy Trio

2009-06-21T14:06:00.000-04:00

By some crazy, unexplainable miracle, we were all ready for church this morning early. One of the kids made a comment about me taking their picture.

It's been awhile since I've taken their picture on our front porch, which seems to be the place I herd them when I want a picture of them together while they are looking clean and normal.

I figured since one of them suggested the picture that I'd have great success in catching them all at their best.

Sometimes I'm just stupid.

Here's the best one.

I do not like Clay's hair like this. I try hard to not say much. I'm not perfect though, so it eeks out on occasion. I want it kept neat over his ears and in the back. He wants it longer. Last night, he came down from his shower saying he wanted it to look like Elvis' hair. I'm thinking he picked this up from someone at camp, because we are not Elvis fans in our house.

Anyway, he had it completely slicked back. And I liked it, which shocked me. Probably because I could see his gorgeous blue eyes more.

But for church this morning, he combed it flat over his forehead again.

UGH!

Too Quiet

2009-06-18T11:20:00.000-04:00

While Clay has been at camp, I've noticed that Spencer and Allison have played very nicely together. Quietly.

Sometimes too quietly.

I had laundry, lots of laundry, to do. Way upstairs. While they played way downstairs in the basement playroom.

When I went to investigate, I caught them red-handed with my camera. Which they aren't supposed to touch.

Evidently, they have seen Bruce experimenting with his big camera and they wanted to try their hands at photography.

And the whole playroom became one giant prop (one giant mess!).

After shooting 142 pictures and draining the batteries completely, here are their highlights.

A little bit of practice with lighting. Notice the flashlight behind the stacked Tinker Toys, placed "just so" for proper back lighting.

A background setting. With most of their stuffed animals and Beanie Babies.

The accidental "butt" shot. Oops! Oh well. Great photographers always have their share of out takes.

Better clean up before mom finds out what we're up to. Uh-oh! How did that fall down?

Well, they got busted. And had to spend some time restoring order... but I let them keep it messy for a bit, because they were having so much fun.

But they did a good job cleaning up, too.

Clay at Camp

2009-06-17T13:00:00.000-04:00

Kid's camp is about to kill me.

Dropping Clay off on Monday morning was hard. Up to the last minute he was saying he didn't want to go.

Once he was on the bus, he was horsing around just like everyone else, so I heaved a big sigh of relief.

Way too prematurely.

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, he wouldn't even look at me. He was too busy pinching his eyes to keep from crying. He finally held up one hand to the window.

Then Allison started crying, because Clay was crying. And my sweet friend Kim started crying with me, too.

I think if I'd taken my high school gym teacher's advice and taken track back in the day, I might have chased that bus down, yanked my boy off and gone home with our tails tucked between our legs.

But I put my thinking cap on and thought that would only embarrass Clay. So I stifled.

Several friends who are helping at the camp all week updated me by cell phone calls throughout the day. And Clay was good.

So Momma was good.

One friend even let Clay hijack his cell to post a message to me via Facebook. It's times like those that make me love technology!

And then I got a call yesterday evening from the teenage girl I'd most like to kidnap and adopt as my own (she knows who she is... and so does her mom... love you both!). My Clay was not happy. And had not been for several hours by then. He had isolated himself from the group at craft time and again at supper time.

By then, it was nearing bed time. I figured bed times would be hard.

My teenage bud handed Clay her cell and I talked with him. I got a whimpering earful.

Nobody was playing with him. They were all playing poker (and at church camp! Horrors!!). No, he couldn't learn how to play. He wanted to come home. The quicker the better.

Yes, he ate well at supper. Yes, he was showering. And brushing his teeth.

It was cold. It had rained on them the whole time.

He was sleeping good, but waking up at 6 a.m., while everyone else was still asleep. (Not sure why that bothered him... that's exactly what happens at home most days!)

Then he started crying.

Oww! Knife into chest!

Why, oh why, did I make that kid go to camp?

Oh, yeah. Independence. He needs to learn to handle awkward situations. And because comfort is not always the best thing for growth. And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Yeah. All that.

Highly overrated stuff!

But my one big question was answered: should I go visit him while he's at camp?

Uh... NO!

I got off the phone with him once he'd gotten a grip and stopped crying.

I had a hard time going to sleep last night. I fell asleep praying for Clay.

And woke up to a loud clap of thunder and lightning a little after 2 a.m.

I thought, "C'mon, Lord, cut that kid a break! Please don't let this storm be up there. Please let him sleep soundly through it if it is."

More praying for my boy.

I haven't heard from him today. Or anyone else at camp.

But I have some tips I'm going to share with him when he comes home.

These thoughts get me through unpleasant situations: This is temporary. In (fill-in-the-blank) hours, this will be history. I just have to hang on for a bit longer.

I can make it through a whole lot of yucky stuff by remembering all that. Stuff like doctor's visits. Medical tests. Children vomiting in tandem throughout the night. A horrible lecture. Airplane rides.

Having my homesick boy at camp.

For the record, in about 29 hours, this will all be over. It will be history. I just have to hang on for a bit longer.

Growing Pains

2009-06-14T18:09:00.000-04:00

We have been busy, busy, busy... but most of the pictures I've taken were done on the fly, with my cell phone. And Bruce hasn't downloaded them yet.

I'll share them another time.

You know the summer time routine. Surely yours is something like mine.

Running to finish off the school year. Holding Clay's birthday party and attending a couple others. Starting Beth Moore's study of Esther. Decorating for Vacation Bible School. Teaching VBS. Leaving to go camping within minutes of dismantling the decorations for VBS. Swimming lessons. Library trips. Free movies at the local theater.

Aside from having no pictures to upload, and no time to blog anyway, I've also been bone dry on any kind of remotely deepish thoughts. I've had mainly surface level thoughts lately. And even those weren't good enough to share, which just gives you a clue of how very un-deep they have been.

My lack of share-worthy thoughts probably has something to do with the constant chatter of our three magpies, who shadow me nearly 24/7... right as I was getting used to a few hours of silence a day while they were at school. By the time I get used to their chatter, they'll be back in school and I'll be missing the sound of their voices along with the hugs and sloppy Popsicle kisses I've been getting. It's a sad little circle of me forever lagging behind as my children grow up.

Tomorrow I'll drop Clay off at our church. He's going to summer camp. For four days. And three nights.

I think I hate it.

I know he hates it. Right now anyway.

He's been dreading this since I first brought it up a couple of months ago. My dread has crept up more slowly and threatened to overwhelm me this afternoon as I packed for him. He has no idea I might very well cry a bit over this. And he never will, either. I'll wait until tomorrow night, when the younger two are tucked in bed and it's just me and Bruce, and my man can wipe me up from the puddle on the floor I'm sure to become.

I'm going to miss that boy.

He just turned 9.

And 9 is half way to 18. Clay told me that recently. As if I need reminding. (Or maybe he was just questioning my math abilities.)

How do parents do this letting go, bit by bit, business?

I guess it's a good thing. I certainly don't expect any of them to live with us still when they're 30.

No. Because that's when Bruce and I will re-visit our honeymoon, leaving our responsibilities at the drop of a hat, no real plans in mind, just "us" time.

Somebody please remind me of that in the next few days.

And do it often!

Summer Learning

2009-05-15T09:18:00.000-04:00

Ahhh, just one more full week of school left this year.

I'm looking forward to the slower pace of summer. And having my babies home again. Maybe as much as they are.

On the other hand, my kids have been fighting a lot lately. And it's really getting on my nerves.

Some of it is just that they are overly tired and we're running around too much. But some of it is simply that they're being brats. I do not like it when my kids behave like brats.

I've come to the conclusion that no matter how great we discipline in this house, the kids are going to be punks some times. Free will, you know, and all that goes with it. I'm beyond taking it personally. To a point, they're a reflection of Bruce and me, but mostly it's their own responsibility to behave when they've been taught to do so.

I just spent a few minutes decluttering the bulletin boards in our kitchen. Wiping spelling words off the dry erase board. Taking down the classroom schedules for each child. Getting rid of the paper that shows the school schedule for this year.

I don't plan to let learning slide this summer for the kids though. (Or for me. I've already started the Beth Moore study on Esther, and it's going to be good!)

We're going to do the summer reading program at the local library again. And I told the younger two that I'd post some sight words for them to learn this summer to prepare for first grade.

Beyond that, I'm planning to keep ahead of the curve with some godly sex ed for all three of them. We're going to dive right back into the God's Design for Sex series.

Clay is going to read the third book, because he is curious about these things.

As a precursor, I recently briefly explained to him about the monthly "friend" that visits women. (No, he's not too young. Once this year while having lunch with him, I noticed an older girl who had obviously "started" but had no idea. I told the lunchroom monitor, but Clay didn't know what I was talking about.) Clay was a little astonished when I brought it up the other day and asked, "Do YOU do that?" "Well, yeah, honey. I am a girl, you know." I showed him our calendar, where I keep track. And I explained that he would probably notice, like his daddy, when these times come up, because I get grouchy.

Flash forward to yesterday afternoon at snack time. The kids were wound up when they got home. Everybody wanted to tell me something, all at the same time. They were hungry and impatient to get a snack. On the other hand, I'd had a nice quiet few hours before their assault on my senses began.

I snipped at them to quit interrupting each other and to be patient because "I'm only one Momma and there are three of you!"

Clay whipped his head around and started searching the calender for signs of what he thought was obvious. (I need to explain that he should never again do that to either his mom, sister or wife, because if he's right about the timing, he could suffer greatly. Another lesson for summer learning.)

I'll read Spencer and Allison the first book in the series again, and then maybe move on to the second one by the end of summer. They aren't all that interested, probably partly because mom and dad are no longer in the baby factory business, so they don't get to see a pregnancy on a daily basis. But because they have an older brother, I have to push the envelope a bit more with them so I can beat Clay to the punch.

It's so important for me that the kids hear about God's view of our bodies and sex before someone else comes along and pollutes the beauty of it. I struggled so much as a young person with body image and keeping the opposite gender in perspective. The fact that I wasn't a Christian then only aided in further warping my mind and heart.

But back to our kids. I always stress to them that while I am teaching them these things, they are private things, not to be discussed with their friends. Because that is for their friends' parents to do when they think their children are ready.

Plus, I don't want my kids messing up something and "educating" all their buddies. I don't need any outraged phone calls.

We're also going to focus on some Bible verses this summer. Maybe we'll memorize them, maybe not.

Two of them are already printed on the dry erase board. They are there to aid in making this summer more fun for our whole family.

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." Romans 12:18.

Including your siblings. And your spouse, because Bruce and I don't get a free pass.

"Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe." Philippians 2:14-15.

No grumbling when you take out the trash. No fighting about who has the highest mound of Cookie Crisp in their breakfast bowl.

No more blaming someone else for this and that, and such and such.

I'm praying we'll soon all be shinier stars in this crooked and depraved generation we live in.

Just seven more days of school. Yay!

Waiting

2009-05-11T07:28:00.000-04:00

I'm not a patient person. I don't wait well.

However, I feel like I wait a lot.

To figure out a major. To graduate. To find that right person. To get married. To have babies. For those babies to be potty trained. For the first day of school. For the first day of summer.

To go back to work, now that all our kids are in school.

I've prayed about that last one for a couple of years.

Look, I know I am blessed to stay home. But it was a sacrifice to do so. And I don't mean just financially, especially in light of Bruce's recent pay cut. I sacrificed a big part of who I was when I stopped my career.

But now I'm someone different. And it's not about just me anymore. Journalism can wait. And it might not even be journalism that I go back to when I jump start a career again.

It's not even solely about Bruce and I as a couple anymore. New furniture can wait. Alone time will come more frequently again in the future.

For now, it's largely about three little people who we are responsible for nurturing in the best way that God has enabled us.

At Bible Study Fellowship recently our teaching leader said something that really hit me during lecture time. We've studied the life of Moses this year, and as the year wraps up, we're nearing the end of Moses' life. She pointed out that Moses didn't start slacking because of his age, or hanging up his responsibilities just because he had already accomplished so much. She said, "A person who serves the Lord is indispensable until the Lord says his task is done. You have no right to stop serving God in your current position until God makes it clear that it's time to move."

I have no right to stop serving God as a full-time mother to my children and as a full-time homemaking assistant to my husband... until God makes it clear that it's time to move.

And after praying for the past two years about going back to work, I think He's made it obvious that it's not yet time for me to move in that direction.

But I'm waiting on the answer to other prayers now. A big prayer that I've shared with only a couple of close friends. Prayers that concern my children's perception of the Lord. Smaller prayers even, about trivial things like where to vacation next summer.

Aren't we all waiting for the answer to some prayer?

Waiting does not mean we get to sit idly by. We still need to continue serving in the places God has placed us.

I don't want to stagnate. Or worse, move backwards.

I love this song by John Waller. (His voice is instantly recognizable to me because of another song of his that makes me weep each time I hear it... "Still Calls Me Son".)

This one is "While I'm Waiting."

A Moment of Down Time

2009-05-09T18:19:00.000-04:00

This morning's soccer was cancelled because of the ridiculous weather we've had lately, with more storms in the forecast. I'm so grateful, because I was supposed to be a substitute coach for Clay's team. Trust me... those kids know way more than I do about soccer.

I let Bruce sleep in, but when he came downstairs ready to face the day with some coffee, Spencer was already sitting on our porch swing while I made breakfast. So Bruce went out to join him.

They were having a very serious conversation about being baptized.

But then it got a little silly.

Spencer said that being baptized would be fun. Bruce asked why, and Spencer said, "Because you get to go under water."

Well, duh!

SCOSA

2009-05-08T16:34:00.004-04:00

The kids have been playing soccer with the Sullivan County Soccer Association this spring. We haven't taken many pictures. Mostly because Bruce is coaching Spencer and Allison's team, while Clay's team plays at the side of the fields the farthest away, where I sit and watch him.

I did take the camera one day and got these.

This Saturday should be interesting. Clay's head coach and substitute coach, who are both excellent at the sport and at coaching, are both going to be absent.

Guess who's filling in.

I was hoping Roy would be there to help, because he is good to give Clay tips on the side of the field. But the Moodys are going to be in Cookeville.

I hope I don't ruin those kids!

UPDATE:
Soccer got rained out! I didn't get to make my coacing debut. I'm so relieved!

Are You Praying?

2009-05-07T08:46:00.000-04:00

Today is our country's National Day of Prayer. It's the 58th annual observance. And this year's theme is "Prayer... America's Hope" which comes from Psalm 33:22: "May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you."

I seriously hope that you'll take the time today to do more than shoot up a quickie prayer. If you don't believe our country needs God's help, then I have to wonder if you've watched the news lately. Even without headline news, I only have to listen to my third grader tell me things he's heard his classmates say to realize we're in trouble.

This article by CNN also spoke to me the need to pray diligently, because we don't appear to have our current president's full support in unified, public prayer for our country.

I looked at several YouTube videos before finally posting this one. Every one of them that I found always posted a picture of George W. Bush when the lyrics mention praying for those raised up to lead the way.

But Obama has been raised up to lead for now. Let's pray for him, too.

And let's do it without judgment or condescension as we try to guess at the state of his heart. That's not our job.

Praying is though.

Get to it.

A Simple Plan

2009-05-05T21:54:00.000-04:00

Know what bugs me?

I go nuts when simple things don't remain simple.

Things like a toaster not working. One plug. One button. No rocket science. And if it doesn't work, I get frustrated.

Because simple things should be easy. I don't expect working calculus to be fret free. I don't think brain surgery is a no brainer. Riding a unicycle even... definitely not simple.

But making bland postcard birthday invitations instead of purchasing a theme-oriented pack of cards? That should have been easy-peasy.

And yet, one full-fledged adult conniption later, I'm ready to admit that I should have let Clay make his own invites.

Problem number one? Our printer was out of ink. Things went downhill from there.

A quick trip to the local office supply store for the ink cartridges included a side trip to Hobby Lobby for some colored cardstock paper.

Home again, home again, jiggety, jig!

I printed the appropriate number of sheets and cut each sheet into four postcards with my handy dandy page slicer thingamabob.

Then I sealed two invites into addressed and stamped envelopes, put the bulk of invites into Clay's backpack for his teacher to distribute to the boys in his class, and took the last one to another friend of Clay's when I dropped Clay off for a play date at his friend's house.

And then I realized that I had planned Clay's birthday party for 2-4 p.m. on a Friday when school is still in session.

Everybody exit the building. No need to run, but proceed directly outdoors. Because MOMMA'S GOING CRAZY!!

All I can say is that I have too much on my plate, I'm taking muscle relaxers for this never-ending backache and they're making me loopy tired, and my oldest child's birthday falls during the summer. Always has, always will. I'm just not accustomed to working his party around this school business.

But summer break is the very reason we are scheduling my boy's party early this year. Vacationing friends leave slim pickings for party goers.

I called and retracted the date on the hand-delivered invitation.

Then I reprinted, with a revised date, new invitations.

And that's right about the time that the blade in my handy dandy paper slicer thingamabob went dull. After several ugly attempts to "make do" with it, I had some seriously hacked up invitations... and blood pressure readings that were equally as ugly.

Where are my scissors?

Oh. Yeah. Those.

The kids lost (hid?) those about a month ago and I have yet to recover them.

Fine. Kitchen shears will do in a pinch.

Just need to clean off the bacon grease from where I used them to cut open our pack of heart attack for breakfast.

Nobody said that postcard invitations had to be one uniform size anyway.

Now then.

Time to unseal the two envelopes holding the erroneous invites. (Because they were stamped, people! And the price of stamps just went up. It's like sticking gold filigree on envelopes.)

I could be a career criminal. I am truly that good at unsealing stuck envelopes. I'm not bragging. I'm just saying.

But my children would lead to my arrest.

Because I couldn't find a drop of Elmer's glue in this house with which to re-stickify those envelopes once I inserted my new, improved, date-corrected invites.

Again, I'm not shooting for perfection here. At this point, I just wanted to strike something from my TO DO list. Scotch tape would suffice.

Oh. Yeah. That.

The kids absconded with it about a week ago. Haven't seen it since.

Oh for the love of Pete...

I slapped on the widest piece of packaging tape I could find, put the invites in the mailbox and raised the flag.

The flag on the mailbox.

But if I'd had a white flag, I would have waved it in surrender.

I was done.

I just want simple things to be simple.

Spring Musical

2009-05-04T10:14:00.004-04:00

All three kids were in the church's spring musical this year... and it might be the last. For a while anyway. Clay has successfully passed his desire to quit children's choir onto Spencer. Stinker!

Clay loves to sing. He does a mean rendition of The Jonas Brothers' song "Burnin' Up". Here's a video of the group singing it. It's funny.

Picture Clay singing that very last line. I just need to record him, if he'd let me, because he is spot on! (We're probably going to buy him a CD by this group for his birthday. For mainstream music, they've got a pretty clean image. Momma likes that.)

But Clay does not like singing in front of the congregation. So I think we're going to let them all pass on children's choir next year. And actually, that will mean a nice break for us as well. We have wearied ourselves this year, running the kids to various school, sporting or church events.

Here are a few pictures Bruce made while the kids were doing their final dress rehearsal before last night's performance.

The next two crack me up, because the boys have nearly the same facial expression.

Ouch!

2009-04-30T15:52:00.000-04:00

After more than three weeks of suffering with a back ache, I finally made a doctor's appointment for today.

I was planning to ride this out, because I didn't want to pay the co-pay. I also didn't want a repeat of four years ago when I ended up being referred to physical therapy. (They wanted me to come twice a week at a cost of $50 per visit. I declined because I had three kids at home and wasn't going to pay $100 a week for PT in addition to the cost of a baby sitter. I went once a week instead and a friend covered for me by watching the kids.)

But with summer approaching, all three kiddos are about to be home full-time again. There isn't enough time or money for PT!

And I just bought a really neat new exercise DVD that I tried once despite the back pain only to get freaked out that I might actually do some extensive damage. I'm a rule follower... and that warning at the front of the DVD about not exercising without first clearing it with your doctor bugged me. Partly because I'm pretty sure what caused the back pain to begin with was an overzealous re-entry into the world of exercising along with another DVD.

Did I mention that summer is approaching? Yep, it's been hot enough for shorts this week. But I haven't worn any. Because it hurts my back when I bend to shave my legs. I take the pain on Sundays so I can wear a dress or skirt to church. But the rest of the week gets uglier as the days go by. The unshaven gams are kept under wraps out of consideration for all.

Plus, I was tired of moving so stinkin' slow all the time. It was getting way old... and I was feeling even older.

Thankfully, my spine x-rays looked fine today.

So instead of shelling out big bucks for PT, I forked over only slightly fewer bucks on prescriptions for an anti-inflammatory medicine and a muscle relaxer.

And I get to go ahead and do the exercise DVD as long as I take it easy. Now I have a good reason to avoid sweating.

I feel better already.

Preach On!

2009-04-29T07:25:00.000-04:00

Do we have a future preacher in our house? If Spencer's school work is any indication, it's possible.

Ever since Spencer had his visit with our preacher, I've noticed him waving to our preacher any time he sees him. And on the way to the Easter Egg Hunt a few weeks ago, Spencer asked if he could hug the preacher when he saw him. It's sweet.

This week Spencer brought home a worksheet titled with "What Would You Like to Be?" He wrote "preacher" on the page and colored in the outfit he would wear to work.

Oh, how I wish we had a scanner so I could share his masterpiece with you. He colored his hair red. Good job.

But then he colored his preaching suit with a red shirt, blue pants, and orange shoes. I can assure you that our preacher does not dress with such multicolored abandon.

I asked Spencer why he wanted to be a preacher and he succinctly said, "So I can read my Bible all the time and because I love God."

He's such a good kid.

The other night, he sat next to me on the couch right before time for bed. I gave him a little hug and kiss, and he said to me, "If I was a grown up right now, I'd want you to be my wife."

Awwwww!

I SO prefer that Spencer over the Spencer who calls me a "meanie" when he's mad.

I just love that boy. Good and bad. All rolled into one highly energetic little redhead.

Don't Worry... Taste and See

2009-04-27T09:47:00.000-04:00

I've got that yucky feeling in the pit of my belly.

It's stress.

I have four more weeks of Bible Study Fellowship, each Tuesday and Wednesday morning. I spend a few hours each Monday making phone calls to the ladies in my group to check on them. (I should be doing that right now!) I also plan to go one Thursday morning soon for the seminar "Resources for Study and Serving".

End-of-the-school-year activities? Help the kids memorize their last Awanas verses, have the younger two prepared for their last field trip, volunteer to help the kindergartners during the school Walk-a-Thon, help Spencer and Allison memorize their lines for the kindergarten program, organize parental involvement for Allison's end-of-the-year class party and send snacks for the boys' parties.

We have three more weeks of soccer practice each Monday evening and games on Saturday mornings. I'd love to skip out on that and give it over to Daddy Duty, but Bruce is coaching the younger two and Clay's team plays on a field that's the furthest away. We aren't comfortable just leaving him out of sight, so I go and cheer Clay on.

I need to prepare for leading the "Esther" study at church, starting on May 12. I didn't want it to overlap with BSF at all, but it's a 10-week study and we needed to start early enough so that we'd be finished once school starts back in the fall.

I've got some preparatory things to do for Vacation Bible School, which starts at our church the Sunday after school lets out. I need to visit Lifeway again to buy more books for the "Esther" study and to pick up more supplies for VBS. I have to give lesson plans to the other two second grade VBS teachers that I'm working with. I need to study the two lessons I'm responsible for.

Somewhere in there we're going to have Clay's ninth birthday party. I've got to get to Office Depot and see about printing up some invitations. Soon. I am not a party planner. We're going to scale back as much as I think we can this year. Lots of kids, little effort. Pizza, cake, snacks... and then I'm cutting them all loose in the yard to play. I think Clay wants a sleepover, too, so I guess I'll even have to clean house real good before I let them destroy it a bit.

I need to reserve a camp site somewhere, as yet to be determined, for our family vacation. We thought we'd do a loop up north, but we've decided against it. Bruce and I are not agreeing about plans, so we haven't made any yet. He still wants to do a big 7-day thing. I'd like to tone it way back - stay closer to home and not plan as long a stay so we can reserve the money we've saved for vacation to bridge this time while Bruce's pay cut might pinch.

It's a lot.

When I look at the calendar each night to see what the next day holds to make sure I don't drop the ball somewhere and leave a child feeling neglected or a husband overlooked... well, I just want a nap.

But this is my family. My biggest blessings next to Jesus.

I've got it good. Really good.

I just need to remember to look ahead only one day!

Matthew 6:34
"Therefore don't worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Our church choir sang this on Sunday morning. It has meant a lot to me, in the thick of this stressful, but blessed, time.

We weren't as colorful in our rendition. We don't have the robes for one thing... and we don't have the rhythm for another. Well, I don't anyway.

He is good. And I never have to worry, never have to fret.

Chicago Mass Choir widget by 6L & Daxii

I've Been Grilled

2009-04-24T20:54:00.000-04:00

I've been blog surfing a minute or two again lately. Not heavily, like I did last year. That was excessive. But don't tell Bruce.

Actually, he probably already knows. One too many dinners making it to the table late were evidence.

Anyway, I've found a new favorite over at Golden Goodness. Tina is a fellow Tennessean. I like that!

Here's something else I like from her blog.

Here are her grilling questions this week (with my answers):

1. When you were in school, did you study hard or cram the night before?
I didn't learn how to really study until years after college, doing Bible studies. Probably because I was more interested in that than most of my college classes. I was a total crammer in college. Drove my husband nuts, because I'd cram and he'd really study. He's decided that's just the difference between an English/journalism major and a mechanical engineering major. He might be right.

2. What can pull you out of a really funky mood?
A good book, almost always. Music, usually. Nature, but I enjoy it best when I'm alone with nothing to distract me from God's creation.

3. Do you keep the invoice after you've paid the bill?
Used to. For far too long. Now Bruce does all that stuff. And I love him for it.

4. Do you have yard sales? Shop at them?
I've had more yard sales than I've shopped at. I don't like driving from spot to spot, never sure of what I'll find, if anything. I love consignment sales though, when everything is in one location and I don't leave empty handed.

5. When was the last time you rode a rollercoaster?
Sometime last summer, Thunderhead at Dollywood

6. Spring cleaning...do you do such things as wash your windows?
I detest washing windows. I'll do the inside, but I leave the outside for Bruce to do.

7. How often do you clean out your refrigerator?
Before kids, every two weeks... right before payday when I knew I'd be grocery shopping the next day. Now, it gets cleaned if we are having any kind of company and I think someone might need to peep inside the fridge. I also clean it whenever one of the kids spills something inside of it. And before "eating" holidays... you know the ones... Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, the kids' birthdays. Because I have to fit more prepared dishes and leftovers back in there and I like it to be cleaned and organized first.

8. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft?
No. Nobody wants to be me. That's good, right? :-)