I'm always interested in what the girls have to say in their prayers. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes funny, and with Little Sister, sometimes it's just ridiculous. Here's what the Brothers Sisters had to say a couple of nights ago.
Big Sister: Dear God, Please help all of the orphans to have families very soon. Please let that happen Lord. Please help all of the poor to have more money…but not too much. Please help all of the boys to become nice people. Thank you for making us Christians, those of us who are, and please help all of the bullies to become Christians. Please let that happen Lord. Thank you for giving us your son to die on the cross to give us life and thank you for raising him from the death after the three days to give us hope. Lord, please give us love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. We need all of those Lord, but mostly we need love and kindness. And don’t ever, ever, eeeeeeever let us follow the stinky devil, because we hate him. Please help everyone in the world to have sweet dreams. Help everyone to have a fantastic day tomorrow. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Little Sister: Um God…please let me have 5 sleepovers. Thank you for Nana’s iPad. Thank you for my mom, my dad, my stister (sister),and my world, and my town, and my road, and my phone number. Amen.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Big Girls Don't Cry...Unless Little Girls Make Them
Let the Competition Begin
So two years ago, we signed Big Sister up for soccer. I was excited, I admit it. I played soccer and I wasn’t very good, but I did love it and I had some high hopes for my kids. Basically, Big Sister playing soccer? It was an exercise in humility…for me. She really enjoyed soccer. She enjoyed being filmed on the video camera. She enjoyed running around. She enjoyed talking to other little girls about…I don’t know…ponies? But she had no idea there was an actual game going on. I’ll never forget hollering from the sideline, “Go get the ball!” And her looking at me grinning and saying, “Where is it?”
We didn’t sign up again.
But now Big Sister has found her thing. Her school has a wonderful fine arts program and she loves trying out for and performing in the school plays. She’s done really well actually. She also discovered she loves basketball. Total shock. She is a lefty and appears to be more of an eye/hand-coordination-sport-type girl. She has a sweet little shot.
But now, Little Sister is 5 years old. And she has wanted to play soccer forever. We decided to sign her up for the local Upwards soccer program where, much to our dismay, “everybody wins”, but it was cheaper than city soccer and while we suspected she would like it much more than Big Sister, we weren’t taking any chances. They had two days last week where you could come by the church, register your child, pay your fee, and have them evaluated. Each child has to go through 4 drills to determine their skill level so the teams will be evenly formed. Whatever. Anyway, so we take Little Sister to sign up and she’s super excited. As we stood in line, someone asked Big Sister if she was playing, to which she responded, “No, I played before and I was horrible.” I immediately attempted to regain my status as competent mom by assuring her, “You weren’t horrible, you just didn’t like it very much.” Between you and me, she didn’t like it very much which translated to “she was horrible”. But you don’t say that to a seven-year-old.
When it’s finally our turn, Little Sister is ready. She does amazing in the first three drills, and then there’s the fourth, dribbling around cones. Well, you can imagine. The ball gets away from her and after getting around the first cone, it passes the next two and they holler, “Just bring it straight back!” She gives it a good hard kick which makes them think, “She’s having fun!” and makes me think, “Oh gosh, she’s pissed.” They smile big at her and say, “Good job,” and she just turns her back and runs toward me, barely holding in her tears. She cries the rest of the way home that she didn’t want to do a “good job”, she wanted to do a “great job”. She just cannot get over that she wasn’t perfect. Big Sister and I encouraged her as much as possible, but she is just as determined in her pouting as she is in her soccer performance. She is perfect when it comes to the pouting, let me tell you.
An unexpected thing happened in the midst of all this drama. Big Sister decided she wanted to give soccer another go ‘round. I had my doubts. After all, I had seen her play soccer before. I asked her to sleep on it as they had one more day of evaluations and I wasn’t ABOUT to get back at the end of the line. I also asked her to talk to Daddy about it and if, in the morning, she still wanted to play, I would bring her to the evaluation. I really did encourage her to try again; I didn’t want her settling for believing she was horrible. I wanted her to fight for it and try, try again…but I was concerned about Little Sister. She was already in full-on competitive mode.
We arrived early the next day and while we waited our turn, Little Sister whined over and over that she wanted to do it again. I braced myself for the Chrysler Town & Country counseling session I knew we’d have on the way home.
I need to add a side note here…
Big Sister has a tender heart. She weeps when we sing at church. Weeps. The girls recently went to my mother-in-law’s house while we had date night and they came home with one of Nana’s stuffed bunnies. When you squeeze the bunny, it plays Jesus Loves Me. A couple of nights ago, Big Sister came to me in tears saying, “You know how I’m kind of sensitive? And when I hear songs about Jesus it makes me so happy I cry? Little Sister keeps squeezing that bunny and it’s making me cry. Please make her stop!” My response was, “Oh honey, it’s so sweet that you love Jesus so much that the song makes you cry. Don’t worry about that. That’s a good thing.” Her answer? “But Mama! I don’t want to be crying all the time!”
Back to soccer, Little Sister had the bunny in tow when we went to Big Sister’s evaluation. Maybe you can see what’s coming, so here’s what happened. Big Sister shocked everyone, especially me, and did AMAZING! I’m not one of those parents, I swear. I’m married to a coach for Heaven’s sake and we know about those parents. But after the running drill, the guy who timed her came over and said, “Is she your daughter? She was really fast!” I about fainted. Those are words that have never been spoken about Big Sister before. I have sat in the car too many times to count, waiting for her to get her coat and shoes on, to ever think about her being “fast”. Anyway, she did great and then came that dreaded last drill, dribbling around the cones. She is a thinker and she took her time. She navigated the cones perfectly and came running off…all smiles.
“Mama!” she said, “That man said I ran really fast!” “I know!” I said, hugging her and smiling ear to ear. As we walked away, I noticed Little Sister lagged behind. She had her arms crossed and that bunny tucked firmly under her armpit. It was quite the dilemma, encouraging Big Sister quietly so that Little Sister wouldn’t get madder. Okay, I’m running out of steam so let me just say…Little Sister squeezed that bunny ALL THE WAY HOME in an effort to make Big Sister cry. And of course she herself cried at the top of her lungs. I was torn between laughing and crying. I tried my best and said, “Honey, she’s two years older than you.” To which she replied, “But I don’t want her to be older than me.” Hmmmm. Should be an interesting Spring.
So two years ago, we signed Big Sister up for soccer. I was excited, I admit it. I played soccer and I wasn’t very good, but I did love it and I had some high hopes for my kids. Basically, Big Sister playing soccer? It was an exercise in humility…for me. She really enjoyed soccer. She enjoyed being filmed on the video camera. She enjoyed running around. She enjoyed talking to other little girls about…I don’t know…ponies? But she had no idea there was an actual game going on. I’ll never forget hollering from the sideline, “Go get the ball!” And her looking at me grinning and saying, “Where is it?”
We didn’t sign up again.
But now Big Sister has found her thing. Her school has a wonderful fine arts program and she loves trying out for and performing in the school plays. She’s done really well actually. She also discovered she loves basketball. Total shock. She is a lefty and appears to be more of an eye/hand-coordination-sport-type girl. She has a sweet little shot.
But now, Little Sister is 5 years old. And she has wanted to play soccer forever. We decided to sign her up for the local Upwards soccer program where, much to our dismay, “everybody wins”, but it was cheaper than city soccer and while we suspected she would like it much more than Big Sister, we weren’t taking any chances. They had two days last week where you could come by the church, register your child, pay your fee, and have them evaluated. Each child has to go through 4 drills to determine their skill level so the teams will be evenly formed. Whatever. Anyway, so we take Little Sister to sign up and she’s super excited. As we stood in line, someone asked Big Sister if she was playing, to which she responded, “No, I played before and I was horrible.” I immediately attempted to regain my status as competent mom by assuring her, “You weren’t horrible, you just didn’t like it very much.” Between you and me, she didn’t like it very much which translated to “she was horrible”. But you don’t say that to a seven-year-old.
When it’s finally our turn, Little Sister is ready. She does amazing in the first three drills, and then there’s the fourth, dribbling around cones. Well, you can imagine. The ball gets away from her and after getting around the first cone, it passes the next two and they holler, “Just bring it straight back!” She gives it a good hard kick which makes them think, “She’s having fun!” and makes me think, “Oh gosh, she’s pissed.” They smile big at her and say, “Good job,” and she just turns her back and runs toward me, barely holding in her tears. She cries the rest of the way home that she didn’t want to do a “good job”, she wanted to do a “great job”. She just cannot get over that she wasn’t perfect. Big Sister and I encouraged her as much as possible, but she is just as determined in her pouting as she is in her soccer performance. She is perfect when it comes to the pouting, let me tell you.
An unexpected thing happened in the midst of all this drama. Big Sister decided she wanted to give soccer another go ‘round. I had my doubts. After all, I had seen her play soccer before. I asked her to sleep on it as they had one more day of evaluations and I wasn’t ABOUT to get back at the end of the line. I also asked her to talk to Daddy about it and if, in the morning, she still wanted to play, I would bring her to the evaluation. I really did encourage her to try again; I didn’t want her settling for believing she was horrible. I wanted her to fight for it and try, try again…but I was concerned about Little Sister. She was already in full-on competitive mode.
We arrived early the next day and while we waited our turn, Little Sister whined over and over that she wanted to do it again. I braced myself for the Chrysler Town & Country counseling session I knew we’d have on the way home.
I need to add a side note here…
Big Sister has a tender heart. She weeps when we sing at church. Weeps. The girls recently went to my mother-in-law’s house while we had date night and they came home with one of Nana’s stuffed bunnies. When you squeeze the bunny, it plays Jesus Loves Me. A couple of nights ago, Big Sister came to me in tears saying, “You know how I’m kind of sensitive? And when I hear songs about Jesus it makes me so happy I cry? Little Sister keeps squeezing that bunny and it’s making me cry. Please make her stop!” My response was, “Oh honey, it’s so sweet that you love Jesus so much that the song makes you cry. Don’t worry about that. That’s a good thing.” Her answer? “But Mama! I don’t want to be crying all the time!”
Back to soccer, Little Sister had the bunny in tow when we went to Big Sister’s evaluation. Maybe you can see what’s coming, so here’s what happened. Big Sister shocked everyone, especially me, and did AMAZING! I’m not one of those parents, I swear. I’m married to a coach for Heaven’s sake and we know about those parents. But after the running drill, the guy who timed her came over and said, “Is she your daughter? She was really fast!” I about fainted. Those are words that have never been spoken about Big Sister before. I have sat in the car too many times to count, waiting for her to get her coat and shoes on, to ever think about her being “fast”. Anyway, she did great and then came that dreaded last drill, dribbling around the cones. She is a thinker and she took her time. She navigated the cones perfectly and came running off…all smiles.
“Mama!” she said, “That man said I ran really fast!” “I know!” I said, hugging her and smiling ear to ear. As we walked away, I noticed Little Sister lagged behind. She had her arms crossed and that bunny tucked firmly under her armpit. It was quite the dilemma, encouraging Big Sister quietly so that Little Sister wouldn’t get madder. Okay, I’m running out of steam so let me just say…Little Sister squeezed that bunny ALL THE WAY HOME in an effort to make Big Sister cry. And of course she herself cried at the top of her lungs. I was torn between laughing and crying. I tried my best and said, “Honey, she’s two years older than you.” To which she replied, “But I don’t want her to be older than me.” Hmmmm. Should be an interesting Spring.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Which Voice are You Listening To?
These days we are getting up EARLY in the morning. It's quite the hike from Hendersonville to Nashville Christian and Mercy Ministries. I actually tracked it the other day and for me to go from home to work, pick up the girls, and back home again and nowhere else is 91.6 miles. I just got my oil changed and it's already time to do it again! But it's worth it. That time in the car alone is some of the only time I get alone. Ever.
So, a couple of days ago, Daddy went upstairs to wake Big Sister and Little Sister. I do the follow up about 5 minutes later and Big Sister was still in the bed. I "encouraged" her to get up and get going so Daddy wouldn't be "frustrated" that they were running late. I use the terms "encouraged" and "frustrated" loosely of course. She showed up downstairs after a few minutes and once they were in the car, Daddy told me about their conversation on the way out.
Big Sister: Dad, you know what I did this morning when I was deciding what to do?
Daddy: What?
Big Sister: I used my conscience!
Daddy: Really? That's good. You should always listen to your conscience.
Big Sister: Yeah. That's the first time I've ever used those guys.
Daddy: Really? (Thinking..."those guys"?)
Big Sister: You know the bad conscience tries to get you to do the wrong thing.
Daddy: Yeah. You should always listen to your good conscience.
Big Sister: Yep. I just flicked the devil one right off my shoulder. (along with the visual of her flicking an imaginary devil off her shoulder)
Maybe she's beginning to understand the Holy Spirit. Maybe she's watched one too many cartoons. Either way, as long as she listens to the "good conscience", otherwise known as the "God conscience", and keeps flicking the devil off her shoulder, she'll be doing better than a lot of us.
So, a couple of days ago, Daddy went upstairs to wake Big Sister and Little Sister. I do the follow up about 5 minutes later and Big Sister was still in the bed. I "encouraged" her to get up and get going so Daddy wouldn't be "frustrated" that they were running late. I use the terms "encouraged" and "frustrated" loosely of course. She showed up downstairs after a few minutes and once they were in the car, Daddy told me about their conversation on the way out.
Big Sister: Dad, you know what I did this morning when I was deciding what to do?
Daddy: What?
Big Sister: I used my conscience!
Daddy: Really? That's good. You should always listen to your conscience.
Big Sister: Yeah. That's the first time I've ever used those guys.
Daddy: Really? (Thinking..."those guys"?)
Big Sister: You know the bad conscience tries to get you to do the wrong thing.
Daddy: Yeah. You should always listen to your good conscience.
Big Sister: Yep. I just flicked the devil one right off my shoulder. (along with the visual of her flicking an imaginary devil off her shoulder)
Maybe she's beginning to understand the Holy Spirit. Maybe she's watched one too many cartoons. Either way, as long as she listens to the "good conscience", otherwise known as the "God conscience", and keeps flicking the devil off her shoulder, she'll be doing better than a lot of us.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Lessons on Marriage...Sort of
Little Sister: Mama, after you are dead, I going to marry Daddy!
Me: Really.
Little Sister: Yeah...after you are dead.
Me: Well, I'm not planning to die anytime soon. And besides, you can't marry someone in your family.
Little Sister: Right. So I can't marry you or Annie or Daddy.
Me: (Not wanting to address the gender issues) Right.
Big Sister: (finally weighing in) You can only marry someone who is in someone else's family. And besides, Daddy is already married to Mama. You can't marry someone who is already married. Right mom?
Me: Right. You can only marry someone who is single. Someone who is not married is called "single".
Pause for about one minute.
Little Sister: I think Santa Claus is single.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Catching Up
Well, if you used to read my blog (like a million years ago) I know you're shocked that I've finally decided to start posting again. And if you've been here before you might notice that I've also got a new look. It was time. The other blog picture is two years old and about 15 lbs. lighter (hence the rest of my face being cut out) :) This picture is from this past spring at the Preakness which I'm going to do a post about next time. It was definitely a blog worthy experience so I'll have to go back and catch you up. But first a summary of the past few months. Easter was my last post so I'll take it from there. In May, my husband and I flew to Baltimore for the second year in a row to visit our friend Billy and attend the Preakness. And once again, we had a fabulous time!
Thanks to some friends who have box seats and no small children, we got to go see Thomas the Train. The girls LOVED it! Mom and Dad? Let's just say I'm glad we had box seats with food and drinks.
When we returned, there were only a couple of weeks of school left. Big Sister played a beautiful flower in the end of the year program and even had a line.
The year ended with a semi-field day (because rain cancelled the actual field day) and the always exciting kindergarten tug-of-war.
Most of the summer was spent hanging out at our local pool for hours on end and having fun with friends. We spent several nights in the back yard around our fire pit making s'mores with our neighbors. Super fun! 
Thanks to some friends who have box seats and no small children, we got to go see Thomas the Train. The girls LOVED it! Mom and Dad? Let's just say I'm glad we had box seats with food and drinks.
We had a great time vacationing with my sister, her husband, her daughter and the Russian boy they hosted for six weeks this summer, Vinya. He had a much longer name and some of the kids choose American names like "Scott" or "Mike" but he settled on a shortened version of his actual name. He was hilarious and sweet, poor thing, surrounded by all those girls. He is nine now and my sister can have him back every summer until he's seventeen which I think is SO cool.
I went on my annual girls' trip in July... 
I know, the green dress was popular this summer but I love that dress!
Big Sister had a birthday at the end of the month. She wanted to have a pretend slumber party and she wanted it to be a surprise. This was not an easy thing to pull off let me tell you. She wanted to plan everything, she just didn't want us to tell her when it was. We invited a few of the neighborhood girls over (to keep it simple) and asked them to wear pajamas and bring their sleeping bags. We did manage to surprise her and she absolutely loved it. We played musical sleeping bags, hot potato with everyone's stuffed animals, and had sleeping bag relay races. They made jewelry, painted nails, and ate pizza. At 8:30pm, everyone went home (hence the "pretend" part). They had a great time and it was the best budgeted birthday party we've ever had. I highly recommend this idea.
Our system changed to a modified year-round schedule so it wasn't long before it was time for the first day of school. I can't believe Big Sister is a First Grader this year! She seems so big. You may also notice that she got a "big girl" haircut. This is code for Mama could no longer endure the crying while trying to comb out the knots. Little Sister is staying home with me this year. No Mother's Day Out for her this time around as we are trying to get serious about our budget and finances...but more about that later. Little Sister is still a nut as you can tell from all the pictures of her so far.
And Big Sister did this...
Although I can't say for sure that either was aware that there was actually a football game going on.
Big Sister has a wonderful and creative teacher who just so happens to be an old neighbor of ours. The first two weeks of school they act like they are at camp. They brought their sleeping bags, there was a tent set up in the room, they wrote and received letters from home, and learned about all kinds of bugs. This is Big Sister wearing her camp hat on the first day.
And of course school starting means...yep, you guessed it...a new football season for Daddy.
Did I mention Taylor Swift filmed her video "You Belong To Me" at Daddy's school? He got to coach Lucas Till and after about 40 passes, he finally caught one. Our team was playing both sides and when he caught the ball, everyone got so excited that both teams rushed to congratulate him. Needless to say, not a very realistic scenario so they had to shoot again. All the players, fans, and people attending prom are our students. They had such a blast.
We've had two games so far. We won the first one in a nail biter and lost big in the second one. I pray it gets better from here. At the first game, Little Sister did this...
And Big Sister did this...
Although I can't say for sure that either was aware that there was actually a football game going on.
So that's where we are. Fall is in full swing and today is a beautiful cool fall day. I've missed writing for the blog though I have been writing. My writing these past few months has taken the form of a Bible study. I don't know if anything will ever come of it but I have definitely found a passion I never knew I had. Now that I am officially a football widow, you can expect to be updated here much more often now. Maybe I'll have something funny or interesting to say, I don't know. Chances are with Little Sister at home this year I'll have something funny to say now and then. I love hearing your comments if you feel so inclined and I look forward to sharing more with you about all that God has been doing. For now I will leave you with a great photo of Little Sister at the end of a long day.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
You Snooze...You Lose
Or so I hope anyway.
A while back I wrote a post called We're Breaking Up about my struggles with my weight. I have this...shall we say...bootylicious problem that I continue to struggle with. Anyway, this past Monday, The Today Show on NBC did a story on how your sleep habits affect your weight. I heard about it from a friend (I'm a Good Morning America gal) and had to check it out.
Apparently everyone (but me) knows that lack of sleep can contribute to weight gain and getting the right amount of sleep can actually help you lose weight. What?!?! So all I have to do is sleep MORE and I'll lose weight? Of the women who participated in the study, nearly all of them lost weight and one who lost no weight, still managed to lose inches! Over the course of 10 weeks they lost anywhere from 6 to 15 pounds! They made no other significant changes except to sleep at least 7 and 1/2 hours each night.
Okay, think about it. When you become a mom, it gets harder to keep your weight down...when you become a mom, you also get a lot less sleep. We live in an obese country...we live in a busy, sleep deprived country. I'm just putting two and two together people. The studies show that those who "sleep 5 hours or less a night are 30 percent more likely to gain 30+ pounds than those who got more rest". "The average woman gets 6 hours and 40 minutes." The healthy minimum is 7 hours 30 minutes! Go to the article here to read all the details. It's fascinating.
I'm a night owl. After the girls go to bed, that's MY time. Just me and Daddy. I like to savor it as long as possible so I always go to bed LATE. Unfortunately, the girls always wake up at 6:15 on the dot. I'm not missing the healthy requirement by a whole lot, but that 7.5 hours is a minimum! At this point, I have about 2 non-elastic waist pairs of pants that fit so I'm willing to try anything. And I do love to sleep.
So Monday night, my Bible Study was cancelled and I was in the bed by 8:30pm and asleep by about 9:30. That would be 9 hours of sleep...except...Little Sister was up at 4:30am. 7 hours! Just short by 1/2 an hour! I tried again Tuesday night and the SAME THING! I'm starting to think she likes me big and soft and these are her attempts to keep me that way. Finally, last night, I went to sleep at 10:00pm and the girls came downstairs at 6:15am. That's a little over 8 hours...and I feel thinner already.
So how much sleep do you get each night? And what do you think about this study?
A while back I wrote a post called We're Breaking Up about my struggles with my weight. I have this...shall we say...bootylicious problem that I continue to struggle with. Anyway, this past Monday, The Today Show on NBC did a story on how your sleep habits affect your weight. I heard about it from a friend (I'm a Good Morning America gal) and had to check it out.
Apparently everyone (but me) knows that lack of sleep can contribute to weight gain and getting the right amount of sleep can actually help you lose weight. What?!?! So all I have to do is sleep MORE and I'll lose weight? Of the women who participated in the study, nearly all of them lost weight and one who lost no weight, still managed to lose inches! Over the course of 10 weeks they lost anywhere from 6 to 15 pounds! They made no other significant changes except to sleep at least 7 and 1/2 hours each night.
Okay, think about it. When you become a mom, it gets harder to keep your weight down...when you become a mom, you also get a lot less sleep. We live in an obese country...we live in a busy, sleep deprived country. I'm just putting two and two together people. The studies show that those who "sleep 5 hours or less a night are 30 percent more likely to gain 30+ pounds than those who got more rest". "The average woman gets 6 hours and 40 minutes." The healthy minimum is 7 hours 30 minutes! Go to the article here to read all the details. It's fascinating.
I'm a night owl. After the girls go to bed, that's MY time. Just me and Daddy. I like to savor it as long as possible so I always go to bed LATE. Unfortunately, the girls always wake up at 6:15 on the dot. I'm not missing the healthy requirement by a whole lot, but that 7.5 hours is a minimum! At this point, I have about 2 non-elastic waist pairs of pants that fit so I'm willing to try anything. And I do love to sleep.
So Monday night, my Bible Study was cancelled and I was in the bed by 8:30pm and asleep by about 9:30. That would be 9 hours of sleep...except...Little Sister was up at 4:30am. 7 hours! Just short by 1/2 an hour! I tried again Tuesday night and the SAME THING! I'm starting to think she likes me big and soft and these are her attempts to keep me that way. Finally, last night, I went to sleep at 10:00pm and the girls came downstairs at 6:15am. That's a little over 8 hours...and I feel thinner already.
So how much sleep do you get each night? And what do you think about this study?
Sunday, December 21, 2008
It's Potty Time!
We have a little test in our family that we give anyone new who comes in. We always like to ask, very early in the relationship, if the person is a folder or a wadder. If you're not sure what I'm talking about...I'm referring to your toilet paper. Do you fold neatly? Or do you wad it all up? We have very strong opinions about which is best and what it says about you. The more anal (no pun intended) people in our family tend to be folders. On the other hand, the...shall we say... freer spirits...tend to be wadders. Everyone has their opinions about which is best. There are issues of padding, maximum coverage, comfort, cleanliness...you name it, we've discussed it.
Now when I first started dating my husband, I learned something very intriguing about him.. He might be the only guy on the planet who doesn't think poop jokes, farts, or other related potty talk is funny. I mean, I know lots of women grossed out by the topic (they have all probably quit reading this post by now) but most men I know don't fall into that category. For years, YEARS, he refused to tell whether he was a folder or a wadder. We often speculated about which he was much to his dismay and our lively analysis would always send him running to another room. He HATES talking about anything related to the bathroom.
Now, obviously he's had to adjust his tolerance levels a little since we've had children. (Although, he still claims he may vomit whenever changing a dirty diaper.) He's had to learn to tolerate the randomly emitted gas at any and all locations, mostly in public, and smile along with the fits of giggles that follow. It hasn't been easy my friends. That is why I had to smile tonight when I heard his voice yell with great enthusiasm from the upstairs bathroom, "Mama! Little Sister just went poo poo on the potty!"
Yes, dear friends. Little Sister has reached that all critical milestone in life...learning to tee tee and poo poo on the potty. We have been telling her for two months that once she had her birthday, that she had to go tee tee and poo poo on the potty like a big girl. We haven't even attempted sitting on the potty this entire time, just prepping her for what was to come. Well, I'm happy to say that yesterday, our first day of trying, after wetting her pants all day long, she finally did it right before bed. We had quite the party and had to put off brushing teeth until after marshmallows. Today has been great as well. She's only had two accidents. The rest of the time she's gone on the potty including POO POO! She got marshmallows and M&M's for that.
And...of course...we're working on wadding. Considering she wads her paper into the smallest possible ball she can form, I'm thinking of teaching her folding. But I don't want her to need therapy later. What do you think? Defend yourselves folders and wadders of the world!
Now when I first started dating my husband, I learned something very intriguing about him.. He might be the only guy on the planet who doesn't think poop jokes, farts, or other related potty talk is funny. I mean, I know lots of women grossed out by the topic (they have all probably quit reading this post by now) but most men I know don't fall into that category. For years, YEARS, he refused to tell whether he was a folder or a wadder. We often speculated about which he was much to his dismay and our lively analysis would always send him running to another room. He HATES talking about anything related to the bathroom.
Now, obviously he's had to adjust his tolerance levels a little since we've had children. (Although, he still claims he may vomit whenever changing a dirty diaper.) He's had to learn to tolerate the randomly emitted gas at any and all locations, mostly in public, and smile along with the fits of giggles that follow. It hasn't been easy my friends. That is why I had to smile tonight when I heard his voice yell with great enthusiasm from the upstairs bathroom, "Mama! Little Sister just went poo poo on the potty!"
Yes, dear friends. Little Sister has reached that all critical milestone in life...learning to tee tee and poo poo on the potty. We have been telling her for two months that once she had her birthday, that she had to go tee tee and poo poo on the potty like a big girl. We haven't even attempted sitting on the potty this entire time, just prepping her for what was to come. Well, I'm happy to say that yesterday, our first day of trying, after wetting her pants all day long, she finally did it right before bed. We had quite the party and had to put off brushing teeth until after marshmallows. Today has been great as well. She's only had two accidents. The rest of the time she's gone on the potty including POO POO! She got marshmallows and M&M's for that.
And...of course...we're working on wadding. Considering she wads her paper into the smallest possible ball she can form, I'm thinking of teaching her folding. But I don't want her to need therapy later. What do you think? Defend yourselves folders and wadders of the world!
Monday, August 25, 2008
The First Day of School, Again...Only Worse
So today was the actual first day of kindergarten. Brace yourself, it was a doozy. This is a long post but I think it will be worth it. Once again, my children went against the norm and instead of waking up between 6:00 and 6:30, they slept until 7:15. Big Sister needs to arrive at school between 8:15 and 8:30. Any earlier than 8:15 and we have to wait in the cafeteria with a bazillion kids for dismissal. We prefer to aim for 8:20 so we can walk directly to the classroom. It's okay with the teachers if we walk them to their rooms until around October. After that, we have to cut the apron strings and let them go...oh boy. So anyway, we have exactly fifty-five minutes to feed and dress everyone before leaving the house. Sounds doable...if you have a family that operates at normal speed. However, apparently I am receiving payback for all those times in my childhood when my mother was waiting in the car with the motor running while I continued to look for my other shoe. Big Sister takes her time. Little Sister moves at a little faster pace, hence the problem. You have to catch her before you can dress her. And then there's me, the mama. I can't walk into that school (and I am walking into that school until October) looking like I normally do. These people don't know me. I am putting my firstborn's life in their hands until 2:15 p.m. I must make a good impression!
So anyway, we're well on our way to making good time and then Daddy hollers as he walks out the door, "It's raining." WHAT!?!?! Rain!? I wasn't prepared to deal with RAIN! We walk to school for crying out loud. I haven't practiced driving to school yet. How long will it take? Can I park somewhere when I get there so I can still walk her in? Where? Front of the school or back? Now, in my defense, it hasn't rained in like...forever. I haven't watched the news in like...forever. How was I supposed to know I must prepare the "rain plan" on the first day!? Let the madness begin.
After running up and down the stairs about 10 times, not drinking any of the coffee I made, and holding Little Sister down to yank her hair into a beautifully coiffed "do"...we headed out the door at 8:14. Perfect if you're walking...but if it's raining....and you're driving....and you've never done this before? Well, I was able to snap a couple of pictures before we left.
On a side note, the heinous "tote bag" is a requirement at our school for all kindergartners. It is so they can easily be identified as a kindergartner (seriously, how could you miss these things?) and so that papers don't get lost in lots of zippers and pouches. Okay, like, could you have let us know that in a letter over the summer before money was invested in a perfectly pink zippered and pouch covered princess backpack that Big Sister picked out herself and now I have to explain why she can't take it to school even though I built it up earlier like it was so perfect for kindergarten and made her look like such a big girl and now I have to make it seem like that heinous "tote bag" is awesome!?! Aaarrrghhhh! We were permitted to decorate the heinous "tote bag". Notice the ribbon around the edging and the bow. Aren't I crafty? Big Sister drew on the bag while I restrained myself from adding multiple sequined iron on transfers. Here is a closeup.
In case you couldn't tell, that thing to the right is a fish standing on top of it's fish tank. (Isn't she creative?) and the word CIDRGORDIN is the word KINDERGARTEN using ebonics...I mean phonics. I'm not sure what the squiggly yellow things are. Anyway, I praised her artistry to the high heavens and somehow managed to convince her that the "tote bag" is the way to go because it's what all the hip kindergartners are wearing this year.
So we walked out to the garage at 8:14 a.m. and I immediately realized I was in trouble. I laid my eyes on the car we've borrowed from the dealership while our minivan is being fixed and remembered that I have NO umbrellas. All three umbrellas that we own are in the minivan. Because Daddy doesn't use an umbrella (he's so manly he'd rather be wet than carry some girly umbrella I guess) and because who needs an umbrella at home? All our umbrellas ride around with us... only today, the first official day of kindergarten, we didn't have our ride.
On another side note, I dropped off the minivan LAST Monday because the ABS light was on. ABS=Anti-lock brake system. I asked them to call us before doing any work and let us know what work needed to be done and what it would cost. That was a week ago and we haven't heard a thing or had any of our calls returned. While I was happy to drive around using their gas for a few days, I've now had to put more gas in their car ($10 at a time because heaven forbid I buy gas I don't get to use for a borrowed car) and I DON'T HAVE UMBRELLAS FOR THE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN AND IT'S RAINING! I mean, do they still not know what's wrong? Do I need to call them and go, "Hey guys, let me help you out...it's the BRAKES."
So as we buckled in I began to formulate a plan for getting in the building. First, I found out that it takes waaaay longer to drive to school than it does to walk. I managed to figure out where to park and I got everyone unbuckled and ready to bolt for the door. I got soaked, which is fine, and I ripped the girls out of the car at the same time, placing one on either side, slammed the door, and yelled, "Run!"
Now imagine the Chariots of Fire music and us running for the door in slow motion. Me in the middle, Little Sister on one side trying to break free from me and go her own way, Big Sister on the other side carrying her cool "tote bag". As we reach the median and are almost home free, Little Sister hits it first (because she's trying to get away from me), I cross the median next, and as I easily jump and clear the small river forming against the median...Big Sister trips (or I pulled her down but...whatever) and she sprawls out half on the median and half on the road directly into the mud. I yank her arm up in the air in an attempt to keep her from hitting the ground and all I manage to do is save the "tote bag". Her left hand firmly plants in the mud and her left leg goes all the way down from hip to toe into the muddy river. Yep. I dragged my child through the mud on her first day of kindergarten. We're all so shocked that she doesn't even cry at first and I don't even wonder if she's hurt herself. I look at her wide eyes and say, "Let's just get inside the building and then we'll figure out what to do."
When we got inside I checked her for injuries. Physically she was fine but here's the worst part. She looked at me with a giant tear rolling down her cheek and said, "I just wanted to look nice for my first day of kindergarten." Okay, I'm not the emotional type. I've been cool with this whole new chapter of life for the most part but I almost lost it. It was all I could do to keep from bawling hysterically. Then we heard the announcement that all children need to get to their classrooms so they won't be counted tardy. Tardy! We can't be tardy on the first day! So I took her to her class, washed off her hands, wiped off her leg with paper towels as best I could, and sent her in the door. Her teacher was somewhat sympathetic, somewhat annoyed, and suggested I leave her there and go home to get another pair of pants and bring them back to the office. She missed the pledge of allegiance and everyone was staring at her, the girl with the muddy pants on the first day of school. Without thinking, I dragged Little Sister back out to the car, rushed home, got another pair of pants, shoes and socks, and rushed back. And of course, it was no longer raining while I was doing any of this. The ladies in the office were somewhat sympathetic, somewhat annoyed, and were at least gracious enough to let me take the clothes to her room. I quickly changed her and snapped her picture again.
She seemed fine and I think she was starting to think the whole thing was kind of funny. I still wanted to cry. But I didn't. I'm just not that emotional I guess. Besides, I was beginning to think about how I couldn't wait to blog about this first day fiasco.
When I picked her up she went on and on about the strawberry milk, eating in the cafeteria and learning about how to "live above the line". She also went to music today so that was big. Nothing about "the incident". It was like it didn't even happen. When I asked her on video what happened that morning and why she had on different pants she kind of looked at me like she didn't know what I was talking about. THANK GOD! I guess in the end it was a raging success. She loved her first day.
I guess tonight I'll watch the weather forecast...right after I head to Walmart to buy three umbrellas...just in case.
So anyway, we're well on our way to making good time and then Daddy hollers as he walks out the door, "It's raining." WHAT!?!?! Rain!? I wasn't prepared to deal with RAIN! We walk to school for crying out loud. I haven't practiced driving to school yet. How long will it take? Can I park somewhere when I get there so I can still walk her in? Where? Front of the school or back? Now, in my defense, it hasn't rained in like...forever. I haven't watched the news in like...forever. How was I supposed to know I must prepare the "rain plan" on the first day!? Let the madness begin.
After running up and down the stairs about 10 times, not drinking any of the coffee I made, and holding Little Sister down to yank her hair into a beautifully coiffed "do"...we headed out the door at 8:14. Perfect if you're walking...but if it's raining....and you're driving....and you've never done this before? Well, I was able to snap a couple of pictures before we left.
On a side note, the heinous "tote bag" is a requirement at our school for all kindergartners. It is so they can easily be identified as a kindergartner (seriously, how could you miss these things?) and so that papers don't get lost in lots of zippers and pouches. Okay, like, could you have let us know that in a letter over the summer before money was invested in a perfectly pink zippered and pouch covered princess backpack that Big Sister picked out herself and now I have to explain why she can't take it to school even though I built it up earlier like it was so perfect for kindergarten and made her look like such a big girl and now I have to make it seem like that heinous "tote bag" is awesome!?! Aaarrrghhhh! We were permitted to decorate the heinous "tote bag". Notice the ribbon around the edging and the bow. Aren't I crafty? Big Sister drew on the bag while I restrained myself from adding multiple sequined iron on transfers. Here is a closeup.
In case you couldn't tell, that thing to the right is a fish standing on top of it's fish tank. (Isn't she creative?) and the word CIDRGORDIN is the word KINDERGARTEN using ebonics...I mean phonics. I'm not sure what the squiggly yellow things are. Anyway, I praised her artistry to the high heavens and somehow managed to convince her that the "tote bag" is the way to go because it's what all the hip kindergartners are wearing this year.
So we walked out to the garage at 8:14 a.m. and I immediately realized I was in trouble. I laid my eyes on the car we've borrowed from the dealership while our minivan is being fixed and remembered that I have NO umbrellas. All three umbrellas that we own are in the minivan. Because Daddy doesn't use an umbrella (he's so manly he'd rather be wet than carry some girly umbrella I guess) and because who needs an umbrella at home? All our umbrellas ride around with us... only today, the first official day of kindergarten, we didn't have our ride.
On another side note, I dropped off the minivan LAST Monday because the ABS light was on. ABS=Anti-lock brake system. I asked them to call us before doing any work and let us know what work needed to be done and what it would cost. That was a week ago and we haven't heard a thing or had any of our calls returned. While I was happy to drive around using their gas for a few days, I've now had to put more gas in their car ($10 at a time because heaven forbid I buy gas I don't get to use for a borrowed car) and I DON'T HAVE UMBRELLAS FOR THE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN AND IT'S RAINING! I mean, do they still not know what's wrong? Do I need to call them and go, "Hey guys, let me help you out...it's the BRAKES."
So as we buckled in I began to formulate a plan for getting in the building. First, I found out that it takes waaaay longer to drive to school than it does to walk. I managed to figure out where to park and I got everyone unbuckled and ready to bolt for the door. I got soaked, which is fine, and I ripped the girls out of the car at the same time, placing one on either side, slammed the door, and yelled, "Run!"
Now imagine the Chariots of Fire music and us running for the door in slow motion. Me in the middle, Little Sister on one side trying to break free from me and go her own way, Big Sister on the other side carrying her cool "tote bag". As we reach the median and are almost home free, Little Sister hits it first (because she's trying to get away from me), I cross the median next, and as I easily jump and clear the small river forming against the median...Big Sister trips (or I pulled her down but...whatever) and she sprawls out half on the median and half on the road directly into the mud. I yank her arm up in the air in an attempt to keep her from hitting the ground and all I manage to do is save the "tote bag". Her left hand firmly plants in the mud and her left leg goes all the way down from hip to toe into the muddy river. Yep. I dragged my child through the mud on her first day of kindergarten. We're all so shocked that she doesn't even cry at first and I don't even wonder if she's hurt herself. I look at her wide eyes and say, "Let's just get inside the building and then we'll figure out what to do."
When we got inside I checked her for injuries. Physically she was fine but here's the worst part. She looked at me with a giant tear rolling down her cheek and said, "I just wanted to look nice for my first day of kindergarten." Okay, I'm not the emotional type. I've been cool with this whole new chapter of life for the most part but I almost lost it. It was all I could do to keep from bawling hysterically. Then we heard the announcement that all children need to get to their classrooms so they won't be counted tardy. Tardy! We can't be tardy on the first day! So I took her to her class, washed off her hands, wiped off her leg with paper towels as best I could, and sent her in the door. Her teacher was somewhat sympathetic, somewhat annoyed, and suggested I leave her there and go home to get another pair of pants and bring them back to the office. She missed the pledge of allegiance and everyone was staring at her, the girl with the muddy pants on the first day of school. Without thinking, I dragged Little Sister back out to the car, rushed home, got another pair of pants, shoes and socks, and rushed back. And of course, it was no longer raining while I was doing any of this. The ladies in the office were somewhat sympathetic, somewhat annoyed, and were at least gracious enough to let me take the clothes to her room. I quickly changed her and snapped her picture again.
She seemed fine and I think she was starting to think the whole thing was kind of funny. I still wanted to cry. But I didn't. I'm just not that emotional I guess. Besides, I was beginning to think about how I couldn't wait to blog about this first day fiasco.
When I picked her up she went on and on about the strawberry milk, eating in the cafeteria and learning about how to "live above the line". She also went to music today so that was big. Nothing about "the incident". It was like it didn't even happen. When I asked her on video what happened that morning and why she had on different pants she kind of looked at me like she didn't know what I was talking about. THANK GOD! I guess in the end it was a raging success. She loved her first day.
I guess tonight I'll watch the weather forecast...right after I head to Walmart to buy three umbrellas...just in case.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The First Day
Sort of. Monday was Big Sister's first day of kindergarten...sort of. She only went for a couple of hours. She basically was just given some testing and more orientation with the building. And she doesn't get to go back until next Monday. Then another week of waiting. We're just telling ourselves that the 25th is really the first day. So that's when we'll take pictures and all. But here's how it went.
We walked to school (how awesome is that?) and waited in the cafeteria for the bell. She showed no hesitation whatsoever but I have to admit, I was a little nervous seeing her in the mix with all those "big kids". Finally, 8:15 came and one of the teachers did a little clapping thing to get everyone quiet. She asked the kindergartners to line up by the front windows. Big Sister was oblivious. "Great," I thought, "if I wasn't here would she just sit here all day?" I explained what she was supposed to do and she promptly and confidently walked over and lined up...with the 5th graders. I seriously think she could have wandered all day and not known the difference. I finally got her to her classroom and she walked right in and said, "Bye mom!"
I didn't get teary. It was too chaotic. It all happened so fast. Both girls slept in for the first time in months leaving very little time to get breakfast and get dressed. At the last minute I decided Little Sister was dressed too warmly and changed her clothes. Five minutes before we walked out the door, Big Sister started whining that her shirt was "itching" her. I calmly explained that she was in kindergarten now so she had to act like a big girl and kindergartners don't whine. (How many times will I use that one this year?) But as I walked home with Little Sister in tow I have to admit I had that feeling that this was a big moment...and then...I got over it.
I really did have a great time with Little Sister. It's so rare that it's just the two of us. She was really confused and kept asking where Big Sister was but for the most part I think she didn't mind being on her own with Mama.
When we went to pick Big Sister up, she didn't see me at first so I just watched her for a minute. She looked pretty much the same. (Whew) I'm happy to report that when she finally saw me she yelled out, "Mommy!" with a big grin on her face. When I asked her about her day, the first thing she told me about was the lunch. (She is her mama's girl after all) "Guess what I had for lunch Mama?...Pizza and baked beans and a special surprise!" "Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked on cue. "Strawberry milk!" "Oh wow," I exclaimed. "Oh gross," I thought.
But I did have another moment as we walked home. I asked her what her favorite thing about the day was. Her reply? "Well, I had lots of favorite things. My first favorite thing was strawberry milk...aaaand my next favorite thing was seeing the gym (I guess she's her daddy's girl too)...aaaaaand my other favorite thing was...when I saw you walking towards me just now to come pick me up." Does it get any better than that? Now that's a moment I'll probably never get over.
We walked to school (how awesome is that?) and waited in the cafeteria for the bell. She showed no hesitation whatsoever but I have to admit, I was a little nervous seeing her in the mix with all those "big kids". Finally, 8:15 came and one of the teachers did a little clapping thing to get everyone quiet. She asked the kindergartners to line up by the front windows. Big Sister was oblivious. "Great," I thought, "if I wasn't here would she just sit here all day?" I explained what she was supposed to do and she promptly and confidently walked over and lined up...with the 5th graders. I seriously think she could have wandered all day and not known the difference. I finally got her to her classroom and she walked right in and said, "Bye mom!"
I didn't get teary. It was too chaotic. It all happened so fast. Both girls slept in for the first time in months leaving very little time to get breakfast and get dressed. At the last minute I decided Little Sister was dressed too warmly and changed her clothes. Five minutes before we walked out the door, Big Sister started whining that her shirt was "itching" her. I calmly explained that she was in kindergarten now so she had to act like a big girl and kindergartners don't whine. (How many times will I use that one this year?) But as I walked home with Little Sister in tow I have to admit I had that feeling that this was a big moment...and then...I got over it.
I really did have a great time with Little Sister. It's so rare that it's just the two of us. She was really confused and kept asking where Big Sister was but for the most part I think she didn't mind being on her own with Mama.
When we went to pick Big Sister up, she didn't see me at first so I just watched her for a minute. She looked pretty much the same. (Whew) I'm happy to report that when she finally saw me she yelled out, "Mommy!" with a big grin on her face. When I asked her about her day, the first thing she told me about was the lunch. (She is her mama's girl after all) "Guess what I had for lunch Mama?...Pizza and baked beans and a special surprise!" "Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked on cue. "Strawberry milk!" "Oh wow," I exclaimed. "Oh gross," I thought.
But I did have another moment as we walked home. I asked her what her favorite thing about the day was. Her reply? "Well, I had lots of favorite things. My first favorite thing was strawberry milk...aaaand my next favorite thing was seeing the gym (I guess she's her daddy's girl too)...aaaaaand my other favorite thing was...when I saw you walking towards me just now to come pick me up." Does it get any better than that? Now that's a moment I'll probably never get over.
Friday, July 25, 2008
All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten
Or did I? Sometimes I think all I really need to know got ruined in Kindergarten.
A lot of my friends have first time kindergartners this year and a couple have written about it. You can read those posts below.
Amy
Sarah
I've had thoughts about this new phase of life as well. Big Sister couldn't be more excited about going to school. If she were apprehensive it would be really tough but she can't wait. She's definitely ready. For her birthday, she received a computer game called Jump Start Kindergarten and she's all over it. She loves to learn and can't wait to really start reading. She can't wait to play on the playground, eat lunch in the cafeteria and make new friends. And there are things I look forward to as well. Big Sister got good one on one time with me on the front end. Now it's Little Sister's turn. I'm looking forward to some special times with just me and her. I'm looking forward to getting to know some other people in our neighborhood. I'm looking forward to getting involved in her class, school, and ultimately, our community. I love school. I was a teacher, I'm married to a teacher, I'm the daughter of former teachers. WE LOVE all things SCHOOL.
But I worry...a little. Is she really supposed to go in that big building ALL BY HERSELF every day? What will happen after she walks through those doors? How will I know she made it to her room? We live right near the school and will walk most days. What if she gets in there and I leave and then she thinks she left something at home and then she tries to walk home and then...do you see where I'm going with this? I mean, the child still can't wipe her butt all that well. How's that going to work? Is she going to sit on the toilet yelling, "Teacher! TEACHER! CAN YOU COME WIPE MY BOTTOM?!?!"
But the thing that really gets me...the thing that makes me tear up when I look at her is this.
She's entering the real world.
Right now she believes that she's beautiful. She believes that she is smart. She believes that she is special. She likes what she likes and she has great enthusiasm about it. Right now she loves her little sister. Right now she wants to please her mom and dad more than anybody. But what will she learn in kindergarten? What will happen when another mean kid calls her ugly or stupid? What will happen when someone tells her Dora isn't cool anymore? And Little Sister is an annoying baby? And moms and dads don't know anything and are to be rebelled against? What if she's the mean kid and I just don't know it? Will I be one of those parents? Up until now I've been there to protect her. And I want to protect her from all that heartbreak and dysfunction that you learn in the real world. I want her to go on forever believing she is beautiful and smart and special. I want her to pave her own way and find her own passions and follow them despite what her peers think. I want her to want to be with her family more than anyone else in the world. But...
I keep thinking of something one of my mentors, Peggy, once told me. If I could be the perfect parent and if I could protect her from the troubles of this world, she would never know she needed Jesus. These things have to be faced. And I must point her to Jesus. She needs to know that, "Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30" She needs to know that smart is good but wisdom that comes from the Lord is what she really needs. She needs to know that Mom and Dad love her but we will fail her and no one can love her like Jesus. She needs to know that her life is not about her but about God and his glory. She needs to have her heart broken over sin. Lord, help me! I'm not ready for this! I know I'm being a bit melodramatic. Maybe she'll love her teacher. Maybe she'll make some great friends. Maybe she'll thrive. And maybe she'll learn to wipe her own butt in the next two weeks.
I don't know what the future holds but it reminds me of my own need for Jesus. It reminds me of all He's taught me and how he's brought me through difficult times. It reminds me how blessed I am in my life. It reminds me that He is in control. It reminds me that the difficult times have driven me to His Word and to my knees. It has been the difficult times that have taught me the most. I had difficult times in school and magical times in school. I'm sure there were times my mom thought we'd never survive it. But we did. And so will Big Sister by the grace of God. I guess it's best to just take it one day at a time, pray like crazy, and savor every moment. And God grant me grace if on the first day I stalk her on the playground.
A lot of my friends have first time kindergartners this year and a couple have written about it. You can read those posts below.
Amy
Sarah
I've had thoughts about this new phase of life as well. Big Sister couldn't be more excited about going to school. If she were apprehensive it would be really tough but she can't wait. She's definitely ready. For her birthday, she received a computer game called Jump Start Kindergarten and she's all over it. She loves to learn and can't wait to really start reading. She can't wait to play on the playground, eat lunch in the cafeteria and make new friends. And there are things I look forward to as well. Big Sister got good one on one time with me on the front end. Now it's Little Sister's turn. I'm looking forward to some special times with just me and her. I'm looking forward to getting to know some other people in our neighborhood. I'm looking forward to getting involved in her class, school, and ultimately, our community. I love school. I was a teacher, I'm married to a teacher, I'm the daughter of former teachers. WE LOVE all things SCHOOL.
But I worry...a little. Is she really supposed to go in that big building ALL BY HERSELF every day? What will happen after she walks through those doors? How will I know she made it to her room? We live right near the school and will walk most days. What if she gets in there and I leave and then she thinks she left something at home and then she tries to walk home and then...do you see where I'm going with this? I mean, the child still can't wipe her butt all that well. How's that going to work? Is she going to sit on the toilet yelling, "Teacher! TEACHER! CAN YOU COME WIPE MY BOTTOM?!?!"
But the thing that really gets me...the thing that makes me tear up when I look at her is this.
She's entering the real world.
Right now she believes that she's beautiful. She believes that she is smart. She believes that she is special. She likes what she likes and she has great enthusiasm about it. Right now she loves her little sister. Right now she wants to please her mom and dad more than anybody. But what will she learn in kindergarten? What will happen when another mean kid calls her ugly or stupid? What will happen when someone tells her Dora isn't cool anymore? And Little Sister is an annoying baby? And moms and dads don't know anything and are to be rebelled against? What if she's the mean kid and I just don't know it? Will I be one of those parents? Up until now I've been there to protect her. And I want to protect her from all that heartbreak and dysfunction that you learn in the real world. I want her to go on forever believing she is beautiful and smart and special. I want her to pave her own way and find her own passions and follow them despite what her peers think. I want her to want to be with her family more than anyone else in the world. But...
I keep thinking of something one of my mentors, Peggy, once told me. If I could be the perfect parent and if I could protect her from the troubles of this world, she would never know she needed Jesus. These things have to be faced. And I must point her to Jesus. She needs to know that, "Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30" She needs to know that smart is good but wisdom that comes from the Lord is what she really needs. She needs to know that Mom and Dad love her but we will fail her and no one can love her like Jesus. She needs to know that her life is not about her but about God and his glory. She needs to have her heart broken over sin. Lord, help me! I'm not ready for this! I know I'm being a bit melodramatic. Maybe she'll love her teacher. Maybe she'll make some great friends. Maybe she'll thrive. And maybe she'll learn to wipe her own butt in the next two weeks.
I don't know what the future holds but it reminds me of my own need for Jesus. It reminds me of all He's taught me and how he's brought me through difficult times. It reminds me how blessed I am in my life. It reminds me that He is in control. It reminds me that the difficult times have driven me to His Word and to my knees. It has been the difficult times that have taught me the most. I had difficult times in school and magical times in school. I'm sure there were times my mom thought we'd never survive it. But we did. And so will Big Sister by the grace of God. I guess it's best to just take it one day at a time, pray like crazy, and savor every moment. And God grant me grace if on the first day I stalk her on the playground.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I Live With a Nudist
She's two and a half.
Just a couple of weeks ago I was talking with a friend who has a child about the same age. She was telling me about how her son is into taking all his clothes off now. I just laughed and said, "Well, thankfully we haven't had to deal with that yet." Big Sister is almost five and never went through that phase so I was expecting the same from Little Sister. I'm not sure why. They've not done much the same. Big Sister never had to wear a bib and ate her peas one at a time with her pointer finger and thumb. Little Sister eats like it's the last day to eat and in the process gets about half of her food on her face, in her seat, and on the floor.
Anyway, THAT VERY NIGHT, Little Sister stripped down. THAT NIGHT. How did she know? It's like sometimes she lives to prove me wrong. I wrote about a midnight nudist excursion here but the most recent strip down took the cake.
A couple of days ago I was feeling down in the dumps over the child of one acquaintance on life support and the death of another child of another acquaintance on the same day. Both due to tragic accidents. So I spent the day really bonding with the girls. We ran through the sprinklers, we baked cookies, we watched a movie cuddled together on the couch in the middle of the day. And the grand finale? We painted finger nails and toe nails. Hot pink. Fuscia Power to be exact. This was Little Sister's first time and although it was difficult to keep her still long enough to let things dry and she did have to have a couple of fingers repainted because she immediately touched them while they were wet, overall, she was giddy over it. She repeatedly showed me her nails and said, "Look my hands Mama!" So I settled them down for one more episode of The Wonder Pets before bed and went downstairs to clean up a little.
No more than five minutes later, Little Sister was on the catwalk looking down into the great room saying, "Look my leg Mama, my leg." Distracted, I didn't look up at first and just kept saying, "Uh huh...yeah...your leg." But she kept on and on with, "Look my leg Mama," and it kept getting louder. I finally looked up to see my nude child sticking her leg through the rails and noticed it had large mysterious hot pick blotches on it. Suddenly I had a vision. Hot pink nail polish. Where had I put it? I thought I put it up high on the buffet in the bonus room where she couldn't even see it. But somehow, in the last five minutes, she had managed to find it, get it, and paint herself. I bolted up the stairs and immediately started looking around. I ran into the bonus room to find this.
And there in front of the buffet was a toy trunk that seriously weighs about 150 pounds (now that's some FUSCIA POWER) and the nail polish right where I left it, only it looked like this. 
Somehow she dragged the toy trunk in front of the buffet, twisted the top off of the nail polish, stripped down, painted herself, and then came to show me her handiwork. I spent the next few minutes wiping her down with cotton balls and nail polish remover. I spent a few minutes after that looking on the internet for a magic formula to get nail polish out of carpet. I spent about an hour after putting the girls to bed finding out the magic formula to remove the nail polish from the carpet is not so magic.
Now I have to say, it did kind of challenge my thoughts of wanting to dote on my darling girls and not focus on the material things and the stuff that doesn't really matter. Had someone asked me earlier that day, "So how about your carpet? How attached are you to that?" I'd have thought, "It's just carpet." Well, I confess, I care about that carpet more than I want to admit but in the end it really doesn't matter. It's a lesson. It's a memory. It's a story I'll tell at her rehearsal dinner one day if we're blessed enough to get there. It will be funny then I guess. And it is just carpet. I have lovely hot pink blotches to remind me...every...day. If I could just keep her dressed...
Just a couple of weeks ago I was talking with a friend who has a child about the same age. She was telling me about how her son is into taking all his clothes off now. I just laughed and said, "Well, thankfully we haven't had to deal with that yet." Big Sister is almost five and never went through that phase so I was expecting the same from Little Sister. I'm not sure why. They've not done much the same. Big Sister never had to wear a bib and ate her peas one at a time with her pointer finger and thumb. Little Sister eats like it's the last day to eat and in the process gets about half of her food on her face, in her seat, and on the floor.
Anyway, THAT VERY NIGHT, Little Sister stripped down. THAT NIGHT. How did she know? It's like sometimes she lives to prove me wrong. I wrote about a midnight nudist excursion here but the most recent strip down took the cake.
A couple of days ago I was feeling down in the dumps over the child of one acquaintance on life support and the death of another child of another acquaintance on the same day. Both due to tragic accidents. So I spent the day really bonding with the girls. We ran through the sprinklers, we baked cookies, we watched a movie cuddled together on the couch in the middle of the day. And the grand finale? We painted finger nails and toe nails. Hot pink. Fuscia Power to be exact. This was Little Sister's first time and although it was difficult to keep her still long enough to let things dry and she did have to have a couple of fingers repainted because she immediately touched them while they were wet, overall, she was giddy over it. She repeatedly showed me her nails and said, "Look my hands Mama!" So I settled them down for one more episode of The Wonder Pets before bed and went downstairs to clean up a little.
No more than five minutes later, Little Sister was on the catwalk looking down into the great room saying, "Look my leg Mama, my leg." Distracted, I didn't look up at first and just kept saying, "Uh huh...yeah...your leg." But she kept on and on with, "Look my leg Mama," and it kept getting louder. I finally looked up to see my nude child sticking her leg through the rails and noticed it had large mysterious hot pick blotches on it. Suddenly I had a vision. Hot pink nail polish. Where had I put it? I thought I put it up high on the buffet in the bonus room where she couldn't even see it. But somehow, in the last five minutes, she had managed to find it, get it, and paint herself. I bolted up the stairs and immediately started looking around. I ran into the bonus room to find this.
And there in front of the buffet was a toy trunk that seriously weighs about 150 pounds (now that's some FUSCIA POWER) and the nail polish right where I left it, only it looked like this. Somehow she dragged the toy trunk in front of the buffet, twisted the top off of the nail polish, stripped down, painted herself, and then came to show me her handiwork. I spent the next few minutes wiping her down with cotton balls and nail polish remover. I spent a few minutes after that looking on the internet for a magic formula to get nail polish out of carpet. I spent about an hour after putting the girls to bed finding out the magic formula to remove the nail polish from the carpet is not so magic.Now I have to say, it did kind of challenge my thoughts of wanting to dote on my darling girls and not focus on the material things and the stuff that doesn't really matter. Had someone asked me earlier that day, "So how about your carpet? How attached are you to that?" I'd have thought, "It's just carpet." Well, I confess, I care about that carpet more than I want to admit but in the end it really doesn't matter. It's a lesson. It's a memory. It's a story I'll tell at her rehearsal dinner one day if we're blessed enough to get there. It will be funny then I guess. And it is just carpet. I have lovely hot pink blotches to remind me...every...day. If I could just keep her dressed...
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Rubies
As Mother's Day approaches, I am reminded of the day I became a mother and a lesson I didn't learn until two and a half years later when I became a mother for the second time.
The push present. Know what I'm talking about? I didn’t know anything about them until my friend Lisa had her first baby. We went to visit her in the hospital and along with her beautiful baby boy, she showed us the gorgeous necklace and giant box of Godiva truffles her husband bought for her. When I got pregnant with our first child, I frequently reminded my husband how special and wonderful I thought this idea of a push present was. After all, I was the one who was going to have to do the really hard stuff.
I remember standing in Cracker Barrel one day waiting for our table and we were standing near some birthstone jewelry. (Cracker Barrel just has everything don't they?) My husband mentioned that our daughter’s birthstone was going to be ruby. I was surprised that he’d sought out this information and got the idea that he might be thinking about the push present. I went on and on about how much I just LOVED rubies.
I went into labor on my due date. Okay how often does that actually happen? But I did and off to the hospital we went. I had gotten Jeff a present for our special day. After all, I was convinced I was getting RUBIES. I got him a special journal and a book about writing you life story for your children. It came from red envelope and was in this beautiful red box with a cream bow neatly packed for weeks in my hospital suitcase.
Anyway, I dutifully wore the ring for the next two and a half years. Then our second child was born. I begged him not to buy jewelry. I asked him to just write me a love letter and for his gift, I decided to write him one too. As I began to think about what to write, I thought about the last time we'd been in that place and the little ruby ring. And then it hit me. Conviction. Brokenness. Tears. The Lord brought to mind the one piece of jewelry my husband gave me that I love the most and wear every single day. It is a Hebrew scripture necklace created by a Messianic Jew named Leehee.
My husband picked it out and gave it to me for Christmas about a year and a half after our first was born. It's the only time a gift from him has made me cry. When I read what the Hebrew verse was on the necklace, I lost it. It is
The push present. Know what I'm talking about? I didn’t know anything about them until my friend Lisa had her first baby. We went to visit her in the hospital and along with her beautiful baby boy, she showed us the gorgeous necklace and giant box of Godiva truffles her husband bought for her. When I got pregnant with our first child, I frequently reminded my husband how special and wonderful I thought this idea of a push present was. After all, I was the one who was going to have to do the really hard stuff.
I remember standing in Cracker Barrel one day waiting for our table and we were standing near some birthstone jewelry. (Cracker Barrel just has everything don't they?) My husband mentioned that our daughter’s birthstone was going to be ruby. I was surprised that he’d sought out this information and got the idea that he might be thinking about the push present. I went on and on about how much I just LOVED rubies.
I went into labor on my due date. Okay how often does that actually happen? But I did and off to the hospital we went. I had gotten Jeff a present for our special day. After all, I was convinced I was getting RUBIES. I got him a special journal and a book about writing you life story for your children. It came from red envelope and was in this beautiful red box with a cream bow neatly packed for weeks in my hospital suitcase.
I thought this was pretty special as I was the one doing the pushing. After our daughter was born, I waited until we were alone that night and gave him his gift. I was disappointed to find out that he didn’t have my gift. “ I don’t have yours,” was what he said. “I haven’t even bought anything yet,” was what he meant. I was sad, I mean, it’s not like he didn’t have nine months to prepare but I figured it could be just as special after we got home. Well, two hormone filled weeks went by and no present. Then one day as we were getting ready to leave for church, there was a ring box waiting in the carseat. Oh, this is it. Finally I get my push present. I admit, my attitude was bad but I was glad he hadn't completely forgotten. Well, without going into all the details, my husband went to Kohls (hello, don't buy jewelry at Kohls), and bought a cheap little band with microscopic ruby and diamond chips. It didn't even come in a box, he brought it home in a bag and then put it in one of his state championship ring boxes from high school, which he promptly asked to have back. Can you tell I was a little disappointed?
*I feel it's important here to speak to any man who might be reading this. If you're buying jewelry that has precious stones in it...you must spend more than $100. If you are unsure, PLEASE ask one of her friends for their opinion. May I recommend Berry's Pawn in Madison? It's highly reputable, recommended by Dave Ramsey, and owned by Herb Berry, a wonderful Christian man.Anyway, I dutifully wore the ring for the next two and a half years. Then our second child was born. I begged him not to buy jewelry. I asked him to just write me a love letter and for his gift, I decided to write him one too. As I began to think about what to write, I thought about the last time we'd been in that place and the little ruby ring. And then it hit me. Conviction. Brokenness. Tears. The Lord brought to mind the one piece of jewelry my husband gave me that I love the most and wear every single day. It is a Hebrew scripture necklace created by a Messianic Jew named Leehee.
My husband picked it out and gave it to me for Christmas about a year and a half after our first was born. It's the only time a gift from him has made me cry. When I read what the Hebrew verse was on the necklace, I lost it. It is
Proverbs 31:10 A wife of noble character who can find? She is more precious than rubies.Now, I'd worn the necklace for over a year at this point and finally the irony was not lost on me. More precious than rubies. I had been anything but. I wrote the love letter of my life. I was so humbled by all this man had given me. I now wear that little ring with honor. It reminds me of the kind of wife I desire to be. The crazy part is that he already thinks that of me. I know better of course. He even quotes the next two verses whenever he tells someone about the necklace.
Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, and not harm, all the days of her life.Wow. And as I think of this Mother's Day, I think of the man who made me a mother. If I could be a Proverbs 31:10-12 wife, I know I could be a good mother. So I come into this day with no expectations, just a desire to serve the ones I love. To bring them good, and not harm. To give them full confidence in me. To make sure they lack nothing of value. To be more precious than rubies.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
How To Extract Top Secret Info from Spies
How to Extract Top Secret Information From Spies
I can tell you in one step. Put a 2 year old hopped up on cough medicine in the bed with them.
Let me explain how I acquired this information. This past weekend was LONG. It was mostly super fun stuff but there was no time to stop and by the time Sunday night rolled around we couldn't wait to get into bed. Immediately after putting the girls to bed we got in our bed, turned on the TV and began to zone out. My husband was asleep by 9:30 and I was asleep by about 10:00. About an hour later we woke up to our 2 year old coughing incessantly and decided to give her some cough medicine. Wait...let me back up a minute.
On Saturday morning at around 8:00am, Little Sister was really hacking and had a pretty stuffy nose so my husband went to the kid's medicine cabinet. He found these neat little cough & cold strips that you just stick on their tongues and the strips just melt away. Sounds brilliant, right? If you've ever tried to give an irritated toddler cough medicine you know why this sounded like a Pulitzer prize winner. We have a nighttime version and a daytime version so he wisely gave her the daytime version. When I came into the kitchen he proudly told me how Little Sister was coughing but he'd taken care of it and given her one of the strips. This is how the conversation went from there:
Me: A WHOLE strip?
Him: (Eyes wide now) Yeah...why?
Me: (Eyes also wide) They're for ages 6 and up.
Him: Why are they in with the other kid medicine?
Me: I don't know, I bought the wrong thing and I didn't want to throw them away. They were expensive. Why didn't you read the label? (I know...this was a stupid question)
Him: Why would I read the label? You take out a strip, you put it on the kid's tongue, what else is there? Is she going to be okay?
Me: I guess. I don't know. We probably just need to watch her.
So that's what we did all day. We watched her. We watched her stumble around. We watched her stare into space. We watched as she asked, "Can.......I.......have.....anana?" And then we watched as she stared with intensity at that banana. Basically, the girl was hammered. For about 5 hours. It looked very similar to this experience. She went down for a nap (easily of course) and woke up fine and dandy but still with a cough and yucky nose. We threw away the other medicine and got some age appropriate medicine. The non-drowsy kind. Which brings me back to the perfect means of torturing spies for information.
So Sunday night we give her the "new" cough medicine at 11:00pm. Little did we know that "non-drowsy" really meant "get ready 'cause this kid is about to kick your $@#!!". Never mind that we actually woke up this ticked off toddler to force the medicine into her body...so we could sleep. Oh the irony. About an hour later I woke up to little sister staring me in the face. I picked her up, carried her upstairs, put her in her bed, told her to stay there, and went back to bed. About ten minutes after that she was back. I repeated the above steps two more times and then she started going to Daddy's side of the bed. Daddy was asleep. No comment. The next time I caught her on the stairs and gave her some discipline before leaving her in her bed. Less than ten minutes later I heard movement again. I went upstairs to find her completely naked and headed out to do heaven knows what. That's when I gave up. I figured better to have her in my bed and know that she was diapered, clothed, and safe. That's when the REAL torture began.
For the next several hours she waited until I began to drift and would then proceed to poke me in the eye and say with all cheeriness, "EYES!" Sometimes she would stand up and start jumping on the bed, sometimes she would kick me in the kidney, sometimes she would try to sit on my head, sometimes she would say over and over, "Whas sat?" (What's that?) At about 1:30am Daddy left to sleep on the couch. I am telling you, in all seriousness, that by 3:00am I would have told the enemy anything they wanted to know if they would just GET THIS KID OUT OF MY BED AND LET ME SLEEP! I actually thought about digging that other cough medicine out of the trash at one point. I thought to myself, "I'll just let her kick me and poke me because I'm so tired I think I can maybe sleep through it." No such luck. The child finally collapsed into a deep snoring slumber at exactly 4:33am. Exactly 4:33am. I know. I looked. I'm a stay-at-home mom and it would have been tolerable if I could have slept in the next morning. Unfortunately, Big Sister usually gets up shortly after 6:00am.
Well, I made it through that night and the next Monday without killing anyone, with cough medicine or otherwise. Needless to say, we let the child cough the next night. She was pretty much over it by then anyway. What's the moral of the story?
Read the label.
If you bought the wrong thing, get rid of it.
Read the label.
Understand what the label means.
Read the label again and then let them cough anyway, especially if they are asleep.
I'd love to hear your one-liners.
I can tell you in one step. Put a 2 year old hopped up on cough medicine in the bed with them.
Let me explain how I acquired this information. This past weekend was LONG. It was mostly super fun stuff but there was no time to stop and by the time Sunday night rolled around we couldn't wait to get into bed. Immediately after putting the girls to bed we got in our bed, turned on the TV and began to zone out. My husband was asleep by 9:30 and I was asleep by about 10:00. About an hour later we woke up to our 2 year old coughing incessantly and decided to give her some cough medicine. Wait...let me back up a minute.
On Saturday morning at around 8:00am, Little Sister was really hacking and had a pretty stuffy nose so my husband went to the kid's medicine cabinet. He found these neat little cough & cold strips that you just stick on their tongues and the strips just melt away. Sounds brilliant, right? If you've ever tried to give an irritated toddler cough medicine you know why this sounded like a Pulitzer prize winner. We have a nighttime version and a daytime version so he wisely gave her the daytime version. When I came into the kitchen he proudly told me how Little Sister was coughing but he'd taken care of it and given her one of the strips. This is how the conversation went from there:
Me: A WHOLE strip?
Him: (Eyes wide now) Yeah...why?
Me: (Eyes also wide) They're for ages 6 and up.
Him: Why are they in with the other kid medicine?
Me: I don't know, I bought the wrong thing and I didn't want to throw them away. They were expensive. Why didn't you read the label? (I know...this was a stupid question)
Him: Why would I read the label? You take out a strip, you put it on the kid's tongue, what else is there? Is she going to be okay?
Me: I guess. I don't know. We probably just need to watch her.
So that's what we did all day. We watched her. We watched her stumble around. We watched her stare into space. We watched as she asked, "Can.......I.......have.....anana?" And then we watched as she stared with intensity at that banana. Basically, the girl was hammered. For about 5 hours. It looked very similar to this experience. She went down for a nap (easily of course) and woke up fine and dandy but still with a cough and yucky nose. We threw away the other medicine and got some age appropriate medicine. The non-drowsy kind. Which brings me back to the perfect means of torturing spies for information.
So Sunday night we give her the "new" cough medicine at 11:00pm. Little did we know that "non-drowsy" really meant "get ready 'cause this kid is about to kick your $@#!!". Never mind that we actually woke up this ticked off toddler to force the medicine into her body...so we could sleep. Oh the irony. About an hour later I woke up to little sister staring me in the face. I picked her up, carried her upstairs, put her in her bed, told her to stay there, and went back to bed. About ten minutes after that she was back. I repeated the above steps two more times and then she started going to Daddy's side of the bed. Daddy was asleep. No comment. The next time I caught her on the stairs and gave her some discipline before leaving her in her bed. Less than ten minutes later I heard movement again. I went upstairs to find her completely naked and headed out to do heaven knows what. That's when I gave up. I figured better to have her in my bed and know that she was diapered, clothed, and safe. That's when the REAL torture began.
For the next several hours she waited until I began to drift and would then proceed to poke me in the eye and say with all cheeriness, "EYES!" Sometimes she would stand up and start jumping on the bed, sometimes she would kick me in the kidney, sometimes she would try to sit on my head, sometimes she would say over and over, "Whas sat?" (What's that?) At about 1:30am Daddy left to sleep on the couch. I am telling you, in all seriousness, that by 3:00am I would have told the enemy anything they wanted to know if they would just GET THIS KID OUT OF MY BED AND LET ME SLEEP! I actually thought about digging that other cough medicine out of the trash at one point. I thought to myself, "I'll just let her kick me and poke me because I'm so tired I think I can maybe sleep through it." No such luck. The child finally collapsed into a deep snoring slumber at exactly 4:33am. Exactly 4:33am. I know. I looked. I'm a stay-at-home mom and it would have been tolerable if I could have slept in the next morning. Unfortunately, Big Sister usually gets up shortly after 6:00am.
Well, I made it through that night and the next Monday without killing anyone, with cough medicine or otherwise. Needless to say, we let the child cough the next night. She was pretty much over it by then anyway. What's the moral of the story?
Read the label.
If you bought the wrong thing, get rid of it.
Read the label.
Understand what the label means.
Read the label again and then let them cough anyway, especially if they are asleep.
I'd love to hear your one-liners.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Easter Antics
Well, another Easter has come and gone and it was definitely not without some antics. It all started on Saturday night. Before putting the girls to bed we had them sit their Easter baskets out so the bunny could fill them up. They went to bed with visions of chocolate eggs and marshmallow peeps dancing in their heads. After a night of March Madness, I was the last one up. A little after midnight, Jeff popped into the den and said, "We forgot to do the Easter baskets! Where's the stuff?" I thought of the near tragedy of the girls waking up and coming to the living room only to find empty baskets, the joy of the Easter bunny ended at the tender ages of 4 and 2. I'd like to say I forgot about the baskets because I was deeply meditating on the true meaning of Easter but the truth is that I have submitted for a couple of days now to the March Madness and after everyone else was asleep I sat down in the TV room with my computer and some headphones and finally caught up on LOST. This is what I was meditating on well into the night. Thankfully, Jeff was jolted out of a deep sleep with the reminder of the morning to come. I had to wake my mother to find out where the chocolate was. I had enlisted her help for the chocolate portion so that we could avoid melting on the way down to Florida. I suffered this tragedy as a child. My sister and I took our baskets to church when I was 5 or 6 so we could take them to Grandmother's with us and when we came back out to the car, those hollow bunnies with candy eyes were nothing but an inedible mess that coated everything in the baskets.
Anyway, we filled the baskets and went to bed and all was good and right in the world. The girls slept through the night and woke up cheerful and sweet. They enjoyed digging through their baskets, eating jelly beans for breakfast, and hunting for the eggs that the Easter bunny "hid" around the room in the most obvious of places.
Amazingly we were all up early enough to make it to the sunrise service on the beach. We dressed in sweats, packed up some blankets, poured some coffee and headed out. In St. Augustine you can drive onto the beach. It was a very well organized event. There were hundreds of people and the cars were directed by volunteers with orange lights to perfect rows on the wide beach. There was no wind and it was the warmest Easter morning I can remember in a long time. The service was wonderful, the sky was beautiful, and I was reminded of the significance in scripture of the sun and the son rising in the east....I was also reminded that the tide was coming in and our van was parked precariously close to the edge. Jeff ran back to move the van and was able to move it right next to an exit, much closer to where we were sitting. So when the service ended, we were one of the first ones off the beach and one of the first ones to arrive at The Oasis for breakfast. The Oasis is a great little bar/restaurant just off the beach that has great cheeseburgers. This was my first time to eat breakfast there. We weren't quite quick enough to get a table downstairs in the restaurant area so we ended up sitting upstairs at the bar. Yes, I had my two young children sitting on barstools at 8:00am on Easter morning. We were served breakfast by the bartender. Do you have visions of "Sweet Home Alabama"? It wasn't as bad as it sounds I swear. We had a great breakfast and a great morning all the way around. Basically, for the first half of the day we were batting a thousand. Our plans were to hang out back at the house until 2:00pm when we would take the girls to the clubhouse for a big Easter Egg Hunt.
That's where we had our first strikeout. We got all gussied up in our Walmart dresses (yep, Walmart) and emptied the Easter baskets so the girls could fill them up at the big hunt. When we got to the clubhouse we realized something wasn't quite right. There was a curious surplus of older people eating a quiet meal and a curious lack of screaming young children scrambling for eggs. Turns out, the big event was on Good Friday. Suddenly, my heart started pounding as I had visions of two small girls in pink dresses with empty baskets being drug kicking and screaming back to the house. Thankfully, the manager had a box of about 20 leftover eggs. I assume these were the eggs that were hidden a little too well and were left on the lawn to be discovered over the next couple of days. She let the girls grab them up and they were left thinking this was the easiest egg hunt in the history of the world. We played on the playground for a few minutes, and then headed to the cheesy beach shop to buy Big Sister some flip flops. So I'm thinking, "Wow, we spent an hour getting everybody dressed up and hair fixed just right to go buy flip flops at WINGS." Anyway, everyone was happy in the end. We had a great Honey Baked Ham for dinner, a great visit with some friends, and went to bed early.
With all the fun and craziness that comes with two little girls and any imaginary holiday character I think they are starting to get what it's all about. We did the Resurrection Eggs with them a couple of times at home and by the time we got to Florida, Annie was able to go through them with my mom and tell her the whole Easter story. The sunrise service was my favorite part of the day. There's something about that very literal sun rising that stirs your soul to the meaning of the literal SON rising. The sun rising in the east is such a significant picture all through scripture so I will leave you with Ezekiel 43:1-5 because it perfectly describes those moments on the beach with my family.
Anyway, we filled the baskets and went to bed and all was good and right in the world. The girls slept through the night and woke up cheerful and sweet. They enjoyed digging through their baskets, eating jelly beans for breakfast, and hunting for the eggs that the Easter bunny "hid" around the room in the most obvious of places.
Amazingly we were all up early enough to make it to the sunrise service on the beach. We dressed in sweats, packed up some blankets, poured some coffee and headed out. In St. Augustine you can drive onto the beach. It was a very well organized event. There were hundreds of people and the cars were directed by volunteers with orange lights to perfect rows on the wide beach. There was no wind and it was the warmest Easter morning I can remember in a long time. The service was wonderful, the sky was beautiful, and I was reminded of the significance in scripture of the sun and the son rising in the east....I was also reminded that the tide was coming in and our van was parked precariously close to the edge. Jeff ran back to move the van and was able to move it right next to an exit, much closer to where we were sitting. So when the service ended, we were one of the first ones off the beach and one of the first ones to arrive at The Oasis for breakfast. The Oasis is a great little bar/restaurant just off the beach that has great cheeseburgers. This was my first time to eat breakfast there. We weren't quite quick enough to get a table downstairs in the restaurant area so we ended up sitting upstairs at the bar. Yes, I had my two young children sitting on barstools at 8:00am on Easter morning. We were served breakfast by the bartender. Do you have visions of "Sweet Home Alabama"? It wasn't as bad as it sounds I swear. We had a great breakfast and a great morning all the way around. Basically, for the first half of the day we were batting a thousand. Our plans were to hang out back at the house until 2:00pm when we would take the girls to the clubhouse for a big Easter Egg Hunt.
That's where we had our first strikeout. We got all gussied up in our Walmart dresses (yep, Walmart) and emptied the Easter baskets so the girls could fill them up at the big hunt. When we got to the clubhouse we realized something wasn't quite right. There was a curious surplus of older people eating a quiet meal and a curious lack of screaming young children scrambling for eggs. Turns out, the big event was on Good Friday. Suddenly, my heart started pounding as I had visions of two small girls in pink dresses with empty baskets being drug kicking and screaming back to the house. Thankfully, the manager had a box of about 20 leftover eggs. I assume these were the eggs that were hidden a little too well and were left on the lawn to be discovered over the next couple of days. She let the girls grab them up and they were left thinking this was the easiest egg hunt in the history of the world. We played on the playground for a few minutes, and then headed to the cheesy beach shop to buy Big Sister some flip flops. So I'm thinking, "Wow, we spent an hour getting everybody dressed up and hair fixed just right to go buy flip flops at WINGS." Anyway, everyone was happy in the end. We had a great Honey Baked Ham for dinner, a great visit with some friends, and went to bed early.
With all the fun and craziness that comes with two little girls and any imaginary holiday character I think they are starting to get what it's all about. We did the Resurrection Eggs with them a couple of times at home and by the time we got to Florida, Annie was able to go through them with my mom and tell her the whole Easter story. The sunrise service was my favorite part of the day. There's something about that very literal sun rising that stirs your soul to the meaning of the literal SON rising. The sun rising in the east is such a significant picture all through scripture so I will leave you with Ezekiel 43:1-5 because it perfectly describes those moments on the beach with my family.
1 Then the man brought me to the gate facing east, 2 and I saw the glory of the God of Israel coming from the east. His voice was like the roar of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with his glory. 3 The vision I saw was like the vision I had seen when he [a] came to destroy the city and like the visions I had seen by the Kebar River, and I fell facedown. 4 The glory of the LORD entered the temple through the gate facing east. 5 Then the Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court, and the glory of the LORD filled the temple.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Kids Say the Darndest Things
Kids say funny stuff all the time. I try to write the really memorable ones down in a journal for my girls but today just took the cake. Big Sister said so many funny things in the span of two hours my cheeks hurt from smiling. But first you need some background.
This past week we were riding in the van and listening to a kid's praise CD. We were listening to a song that went:
Today I took Big Sister to see The Music Man at The Coach's school. In the earlier part of the show, the main character, Marion, and her mother have a little spat. Big Sister looked at me and loudly whispered, "They are talking mad like me and you in the car when I said hony, hony, hony and you said holy, holy, holy. Remember when we were talking mad at each other?" Obviously, her perception of arguing is "talking mad". No comment. Anyway, at one point, I don't even know what they said on stage but she leaned over and said, "Did he say crap? I think he said crap." I didn't even know she knew the word crap. Later in the show when Harold Hill and Marion the Librarian met at the footbridge, Marion had changed into a white dress. Big Sister, in her loud whisper again, said, "Look! They're getting married!" About a minute later, when they parted ways, she exclaimed, "No! They can't go apart! That is adultery momma!" I mean, what do you do? I stifled a laugh and said, "SHHHH! It's okay." All throughout the show she initiated all the applause for each number, horse-laughed whenever something funny happened, and at the end turned to me with a head tilt and big smile and said, "I just LOVE happy endings." I just wanted to squeeze her. At the end of the show she wanted to go up front and tell all the actors hello, so I walked her up to the front. The actors were gathering on stage for some pictures. She was in awe of them and they were all very sweet to her. As we left the auditorium she said, "Mom, they all thought I was SOOOOO cute." I know, I have my work cut out for me, but attending the musical with her was such an experience and I can't wait to take her to another one.
On the way home, I asked her what her favorite part was. She said, "When they got married. And I know what your favorite part was mom. The kissing part. Because you and daddy kiss all the time." I just agreed. After all, there's no "talking mad" with her. And I think it's pretty great that she thinks momma and daddy are kissing all the time. As for the rest of it, I have no idea where she gets it. :)
This past week we were riding in the van and listening to a kid's praise CD. We were listening to a song that went:
We fall down, we lay our crowns at the feet of JesusOkay, now if you read my earlier blog on forgetting lyrics you know I'm no expert but Big Sister heard me singing loudly and corrected me by saying, "No mom! It's hony, hony, hony." Yes, with an N. I tried to argue with her but she wasn't having it and all week she's been singing hony, hony, hony. Another thing that happened this week is that she's learning the ten commandments at school. This week she learned Don't commit adultery. So naturally, I asked her, "What does that mean?" Her answer, "It means that when a mommy and daddy are married that they always stay together and love each other and don't go apart." Well, I guess that was right in a sense...right for a 4 year old anyway. That brings me to today.
The greatness of mercy and love at the feet of Jesus
And we cry holy, holy, holy
We cry holy, holy, holy
We cry holy, holy, holy, is the Lamb
Today I took Big Sister to see The Music Man at The Coach's school. In the earlier part of the show, the main character, Marion, and her mother have a little spat. Big Sister looked at me and loudly whispered, "They are talking mad like me and you in the car when I said hony, hony, hony and you said holy, holy, holy. Remember when we were talking mad at each other?" Obviously, her perception of arguing is "talking mad". No comment. Anyway, at one point, I don't even know what they said on stage but she leaned over and said, "Did he say crap? I think he said crap." I didn't even know she knew the word crap. Later in the show when Harold Hill and Marion the Librarian met at the footbridge, Marion had changed into a white dress. Big Sister, in her loud whisper again, said, "Look! They're getting married!" About a minute later, when they parted ways, she exclaimed, "No! They can't go apart! That is adultery momma!" I mean, what do you do? I stifled a laugh and said, "SHHHH! It's okay." All throughout the show she initiated all the applause for each number, horse-laughed whenever something funny happened, and at the end turned to me with a head tilt and big smile and said, "I just LOVE happy endings." I just wanted to squeeze her. At the end of the show she wanted to go up front and tell all the actors hello, so I walked her up to the front. The actors were gathering on stage for some pictures. She was in awe of them and they were all very sweet to her. As we left the auditorium she said, "Mom, they all thought I was SOOOOO cute." I know, I have my work cut out for me, but attending the musical with her was such an experience and I can't wait to take her to another one.
On the way home, I asked her what her favorite part was. She said, "When they got married. And I know what your favorite part was mom. The kissing part. Because you and daddy kiss all the time." I just agreed. After all, there's no "talking mad" with her. And I think it's pretty great that she thinks momma and daddy are kissing all the time. As for the rest of it, I have no idea where she gets it. :)
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
To Consign or Not To Consign
That was the question. After pulling everything out of the bins and checking it over I have decided it's just not worth it for me. Here's why:
1. Big Sister was VERY neat. I never had to put a bib on her. She ate her peas with pointer finger and thumb one at a time. Big Sister still cries if she gets wet or messy. As a baby, I would sit her on the grass and she would try to balance on her bottom while holding both feet in the air so as to not touch the grass. Little Sister, who wore all the clothes the second time around is the polar opposite. A bib is useless because Little Sister still manages to get food from head to toe. I should either feed her naked or just put an entire jumper on her to cover her clothes. Not to mention what that girl could do to a diaper. The work that would be required to remove each stain on the clothes that no longer fit is just not worth it. The cost of Shout! and Bleach Pens alone would probably put me in the hole.
2. I have a neighbor about to have her first child...A GIRL! The few items (and I do mean few) that are in decent shape would be perfect to pass on to her.
3. This is a big one for me. Do you know what you can list as fair market value on your clothing items donated to Good Will on your taxes? Just a sample: Children’s Clothing Dresses $1-$3, Pants $1-$5, Shirts $1-$5, Outerwear $3-$8, Sweaters $1-$5, Infant Clothing $0.50-$2, Shoes $1-$6. The value you can list on furniture and adult clothing is even more worth it. If you want to know more, click here. And get this...they don't check for near invisible stains.
4. Most of the clothing my kids wear comes from Target, Old Navy, or Walmart. So needless to say, I'd be pricing most of the stuff at the listed tax values anyway.
So you can clearly see the amount of time I would spend dealing with consigning just might not be worth it for the few dollars I might make in hand. Call it denial, call it justification of laziness, I call it being a good steward of my time. Not everyone is in the same boat, some of you actually love this consigning stuff. I've been procrasting for days and trying to find good reasons to stay out of the laundry room and am finally satisfied that I can take a nap instead. Ahhhhhh.....
1. Big Sister was VERY neat. I never had to put a bib on her. She ate her peas with pointer finger and thumb one at a time. Big Sister still cries if she gets wet or messy. As a baby, I would sit her on the grass and she would try to balance on her bottom while holding both feet in the air so as to not touch the grass. Little Sister, who wore all the clothes the second time around is the polar opposite. A bib is useless because Little Sister still manages to get food from head to toe. I should either feed her naked or just put an entire jumper on her to cover her clothes. Not to mention what that girl could do to a diaper. The work that would be required to remove each stain on the clothes that no longer fit is just not worth it. The cost of Shout! and Bleach Pens alone would probably put me in the hole.
2. I have a neighbor about to have her first child...A GIRL! The few items (and I do mean few) that are in decent shape would be perfect to pass on to her.
3. This is a big one for me. Do you know what you can list as fair market value on your clothing items donated to Good Will on your taxes? Just a sample: Children’s Clothing Dresses $1-$3, Pants $1-$5, Shirts $1-$5, Outerwear $3-$8, Sweaters $1-$5, Infant Clothing $0.50-$2, Shoes $1-$6. The value you can list on furniture and adult clothing is even more worth it. If you want to know more, click here. And get this...they don't check for near invisible stains.
4. Most of the clothing my kids wear comes from Target, Old Navy, or Walmart. So needless to say, I'd be pricing most of the stuff at the listed tax values anyway.
So you can clearly see the amount of time I would spend dealing with consigning just might not be worth it for the few dollars I might make in hand. Call it denial, call it justification of laziness, I call it being a good steward of my time. Not everyone is in the same boat, some of you actually love this consigning stuff. I've been procrasting for days and trying to find good reasons to stay out of the laundry room and am finally satisfied that I can take a nap instead. Ahhhhhh.....
Monday, February 25, 2008
Don't Forget the Lyrics
Okay, this is dumb but I just find it so funny. Yesterday, Annie wanted to drink some juice out of a "big girl" cup. No top, no straw, just wide open, ready to spill at any second kind of cup. So she's giving me all kinds of instructions about it and she decides she wants ice too. She says, "I want two icebergs...no more, no mess." I couldn't help but laugh. Icebergs? How does she know the word icebergs? Where did she hear "no more, no less?" It's not hard to figure out how she turned "no less" into "no mess" since I was so concerned about spillage. Anyway, it got me thinking about all those times I was sure I was singing (loudly) the right lyrics to a song only to find out years later, much to my humiliation, that I was completely wrong. I would be horrible at that TV show Don't Forget the Lyrics. I'd think I remembered them and still sing the wrong words. Loudly.
Roam - B52's
Actual: Roam if you want to, roam around the world.
Me: Roll misty waters, all around the world.
I know, I know. My sister had an even better one.
George Michael - Faith
Actual: Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body.
Holly: Well I wish I had a knife, so I could cut your body.
She really wasn't that weird, I swear. So, share your funny mixed up lyrics. Don't forget to include the actual words because chances are, I don't know them.
P.S. There's probably some spiritual application here but I haven't had enough coffee.
Roam - B52's
Actual: Roam if you want to, roam around the world.
Me: Roll misty waters, all around the world.
I know, I know. My sister had an even better one.
George Michael - Faith
Actual: Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body.
Holly: Well I wish I had a knife, so I could cut your body.
She really wasn't that weird, I swear. So, share your funny mixed up lyrics. Don't forget to include the actual words because chances are, I don't know them.
P.S. There's probably some spiritual application here but I haven't had enough coffee.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Being Mary in a Martha World
I was recently listening to one of my dad's sermons on my iPod. I wish it were still online and I would link you to it but it was on Luke 10:38-42.
So who can relate to Martha? We understand her irritation. Let's face it. We live in a Martha world. Whoever is the busiest is the best. What do you think of when you think of the SUPERMOM? Honestly. I'll tell you what I think of. She has a spotless house, always serves home cooked meals, all the clothes are washed and ironed, lunches are prepared the night before, she exercises every day, pays the bills the instant they arrive, changes the oil after every 3000 miles, volunteers at church, school, and at least one charity, and all with a smile on her face.
She makes me tired.
She makes me feel inadequate.
But is this who my role model should be?
Martha was busy making preparations and fussed to Jesus that Mary wasn't helping her. Ever done that? Ever fussed to Jesus that you couldn't get any help? :) And how does Jesus reply? "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things..." She's not just working hard, she's "worried and upset about many things". Interesting. Is SUPERMOM worried and upset and I just didn't know it? She makes it look easy after all.
But here's the real point. It's not that Martha did all the work and Mary did none. It's that Mary knew when to stop and sit at the feet of the Savior. The truth is, preparations had probably been going on all day. Mary had been working hard as well, but when Jesus showed up, she stopped, she sat at his feet, she listened to his teaching. Read verses 41 and 42 again.
*The character SUPERMOM in this blog is fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. :)
38As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a
woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40But Martha was distracted by
all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord,
don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to
help me!" 41"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and
upset about many things, 42but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
So who can relate to Martha? We understand her irritation. Let's face it. We live in a Martha world. Whoever is the busiest is the best. What do you think of when you think of the SUPERMOM? Honestly. I'll tell you what I think of. She has a spotless house, always serves home cooked meals, all the clothes are washed and ironed, lunches are prepared the night before, she exercises every day, pays the bills the instant they arrive, changes the oil after every 3000 miles, volunteers at church, school, and at least one charity, and all with a smile on her face.
She makes me tired.
She makes me feel inadequate.
But is this who my role model should be?
Martha was busy making preparations and fussed to Jesus that Mary wasn't helping her. Ever done that? Ever fussed to Jesus that you couldn't get any help? :) And how does Jesus reply? "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things..." She's not just working hard, she's "worried and upset about many things". Interesting. Is SUPERMOM worried and upset and I just didn't know it? She makes it look easy after all.
But here's the real point. It's not that Martha did all the work and Mary did none. It's that Mary knew when to stop and sit at the feet of the Savior. The truth is, preparations had probably been going on all day. Mary had been working hard as well, but when Jesus showed up, she stopped, she sat at his feet, she listened to his teaching. Read verses 41 and 42 again.
41"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about manyWe have a choice. Are you a SUPERMOM? Are you missing the one thing that is needed? There is work to do, there are preparations to be made, yes. But at some point do we choose what is better? Sit now and then dear sister at his feet and listen.
things, 42but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it
will not be taken away from her."
*The character SUPERMOM in this blog is fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. :)
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