Sunday, December 13, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Frenectomy That Almost Wasn't
Today Mason, Caroline and I drove 1 1/2 hours to Mobile where Caroline had an appointment with the Periodontist.
Caroline was born with attached frenulums (frenuli?) both upper and lower. The lower one was taken care of early in life, but that upper one just didn't show itself until much later. So today was the day it was to be addressed.
Caroline and I sat while the Periodontist looked her over. He explained the procedure very thoroughly, step-by-step, while Caroline and I nodded our heads in understanding. He then asked us to move to a different room while he had his nurse prepare the procedure room. Caroline, very lady-like and grown up, proceeded to the room ahead of me. Once we got in there, she whipped around to face me and said,
"Yeah...I'm not doing that."
I explained to her what a total "non-issue" the whole thing would be. You know, it'll only take a second; it'll feel just like a mosquito bite; I had something similar when I was your age. Nothing worked. She was determined that no way was Dr. Whatshisname getting into her mouth. When I tried to drag her back to the procedure room, she just went limp. I called Michael: no help. I begged: didn't work. She was crying and I was just about crying as well. I explained over and over and over (and over) again that this would not hurt, but to someone who has never had a cavity or anything, getting a shot in the gum just doesn't sound like a party. I get that.
Finally, the nurse very politely pulled me aside and said, "We can't do this if she's not going to be still and cooperate." I asked her to give me 5 more minutes with her and then come into the waiting room to get her, as I was not allowed back during the procedure.
I said a quick prayer for wisdom as I sat her down. Again, I reiterated all the "it won't hurt" jive I had already lost my voice on. Then the light bulb came on.
"Caroline!" I sputtered, "Penny! I'll get you Penny!" (American Girl Felicity's horse)
"OK...I'll do it," she replied.
And that was that. She didn't utter another word of protest, but took the nurse's hand and returned to me 10 minutes later frenulum-free.
Did I do the right thing? Did I cave? Is it wrong to bribe your own child? These are all hypotheticals...please don't answer. The answers may very well be no, yes and yes...but I just wanted to help her through something scary. It reminded me of the time my brother got stitches after putting his arm through our front door window (which I happened to lock...but I digress). While he was crying and moaning my dad told him that if he was brave he'd buy him a Buffalo Bills football helmet with mouth guard. That shut him up and he took it like a man.
It also reminds me a little bit of how the Father, subjects us sometimes to things that are painful - for our own good - but always does so with love and the blessing of his presence.
I hope Caroline remembers this day. I hope she looks back at this thing that occured between us and thinks "My mom tells me the truth. She said the frenectomy wouldn't hurt, and it didn't. I know I can trust her in this other scary thing I'm facing." Wow...I hope I can always keep her trust.
Bless ya!
Caroline was born with attached frenulums (frenuli?) both upper and lower. The lower one was taken care of early in life, but that upper one just didn't show itself until much later. So today was the day it was to be addressed.
Caroline and I sat while the Periodontist looked her over. He explained the procedure very thoroughly, step-by-step, while Caroline and I nodded our heads in understanding. He then asked us to move to a different room while he had his nurse prepare the procedure room. Caroline, very lady-like and grown up, proceeded to the room ahead of me. Once we got in there, she whipped around to face me and said,
"Yeah...I'm not doing that."
I explained to her what a total "non-issue" the whole thing would be. You know, it'll only take a second; it'll feel just like a mosquito bite; I had something similar when I was your age. Nothing worked. She was determined that no way was Dr. Whatshisname getting into her mouth. When I tried to drag her back to the procedure room, she just went limp. I called Michael: no help. I begged: didn't work. She was crying and I was just about crying as well. I explained over and over and over (and over) again that this would not hurt, but to someone who has never had a cavity or anything, getting a shot in the gum just doesn't sound like a party. I get that.
Finally, the nurse very politely pulled me aside and said, "We can't do this if she's not going to be still and cooperate." I asked her to give me 5 more minutes with her and then come into the waiting room to get her, as I was not allowed back during the procedure.
I said a quick prayer for wisdom as I sat her down. Again, I reiterated all the "it won't hurt" jive I had already lost my voice on. Then the light bulb came on.
"Caroline!" I sputtered, "Penny! I'll get you Penny!" (American Girl Felicity's horse)
"OK...I'll do it," she replied.
And that was that. She didn't utter another word of protest, but took the nurse's hand and returned to me 10 minutes later frenulum-free.
Did I do the right thing? Did I cave? Is it wrong to bribe your own child? These are all hypotheticals...please don't answer. The answers may very well be no, yes and yes...but I just wanted to help her through something scary. It reminded me of the time my brother got stitches after putting his arm through our front door window (which I happened to lock...but I digress). While he was crying and moaning my dad told him that if he was brave he'd buy him a Buffalo Bills football helmet with mouth guard. That shut him up and he took it like a man.
It also reminds me a little bit of how the Father, subjects us sometimes to things that are painful - for our own good - but always does so with love and the blessing of his presence.
I hope Caroline remembers this day. I hope she looks back at this thing that occured between us and thinks "My mom tells me the truth. She said the frenectomy wouldn't hurt, and it didn't. I know I can trust her in this other scary thing I'm facing." Wow...I hope I can always keep her trust.
Bless ya!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
School Stuff
Crayola Crayons, 3 packs of 96..................$16
Elmer's Glue, 6 bottles............................$7
Wide-ruled notebook paper, 8 packs............$5
Jansport backpack.................................$17
The feel of new school supplies: PRICELESS
Elmer's Glue, 6 bottles............................$7
Wide-ruled notebook paper, 8 packs............$5
Jansport backpack.................................$17
The feel of new school supplies: PRICELESS
Molly's Melon
This morning I was doing laundry.
I don't mind doing laundry...it's the folding and putting away that I can't stand.
Anyway, in my laundry room I have a bottle of Shout. Probably not much of a surprise considering there are 4 children to do laundry for. You probably have a bottle or two yourself. This bottle of Shout, however, is bought for one main purpose: Molly.
When Molly gets home from school, I don't have to ask her what was for lunch. When she gets in the car at 3pm, one quick glance gives me all the information I need.
"So, Molly...how were the sloppy joes today? And red jello, too? Nice!"
I buy Shout for Molly. I spray down her clothes and then have to vigorously rub it in. Oftentimes I have to wash her school uniforms twice. This morning I was going through her things and spraying them down when something caught my eye. It was something brown, and it was in her pocket. Is it a bug? Is it a bit of Monday's lunch? A blob of ink/dirt/something else? I was scared to put my finger down in there, but reason overruled...I knew I had to get it out.
It was about 30 watermelon seeds.
Molly had gathered up the lunchtime seeds from all at her table who would share.
Bless ya!
I don't mind doing laundry...it's the folding and putting away that I can't stand.
Anyway, in my laundry room I have a bottle of Shout. Probably not much of a surprise considering there are 4 children to do laundry for. You probably have a bottle or two yourself. This bottle of Shout, however, is bought for one main purpose: Molly.
When Molly gets home from school, I don't have to ask her what was for lunch. When she gets in the car at 3pm, one quick glance gives me all the information I need.
"So, Molly...how were the sloppy joes today? And red jello, too? Nice!"
I buy Shout for Molly. I spray down her clothes and then have to vigorously rub it in. Oftentimes I have to wash her school uniforms twice. This morning I was going through her things and spraying them down when something caught my eye. It was something brown, and it was in her pocket. Is it a bug? Is it a bit of Monday's lunch? A blob of ink/dirt/something else? I was scared to put my finger down in there, but reason overruled...I knew I had to get it out.
It was about 30 watermelon seeds.
Molly had gathered up the lunchtime seeds from all at her table who would share.
Bless ya!
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
The Picnic
I can't say enough wonderful things about my family. They make me laugh, they make me thankful, they make me think, and they give me over and over again that general "warm fuzzy" feeling. Oh! And they always give me plenty to blog about.
One day the week before school started back, I packed a picnic basket and the splash bomb, threw some bathing suits and towels into a Target bag and we headed to the beach. This is one thing I love about living in Lower Alabama: day trips to the beach are totally doable.
As I sat with my book looking out across the ocean, watching my family frolic in the water (a little far away in my opinion, but dad's with them, so how bad can it be, right?), I couldn't help but be a little overwhelmed - verklempt, if you will - at God's goodness in giving me such sweet and sublime folks to share space with, even if they did get sand in the Cheetos. Ahhh...peace. This is exaclty what I've been needing. A respite from life shaken and stirred. If I could be anywhere in the world right now I would choose this exact spot. Why, even the weather seems to...
Huh. That's odd. Michael's face looks a bit funny. Hmm...what could be wrong with Caroline and Ethan...they seem to be waving at something. Is that crying I hear? I wonder...could it...no...JELLYFISH!
Mason then came running to me to let me know that, indeed, a jellyfish had entered our lives that picturesque day. The look I saw on Michael's face was not a smile, but rather, a grimace of pain. It didn't take long for Ethan and Caroline to become mildly hysterical. Caroline got stung on her hand while Michael tried to push her away from the gelatinous beast. For Ethan, it was his thigh.
I applied some ice to their stinging skin. A brazen novice at this, I tried to process information as well-meaning beach goers offered sage wisdom and home rememdies a-plenty: put them back into the water, apply sand, go by a balm, pee works, try that.
The stings were actually not too bad (Michael got it the worst), and after some chocolate chip cookies, gatorade, and plenty of hugs, the hysteria began to ebb. Molly took the longest to recover. That's right, Molly - who was no where near the water when the attack occured. She just has such a compassionate heart that she was in almost as much pain as the actual victims.
Alas, the sun was setting on our day of peace and tranquility. We were no match for the jellyfish, but we held our heads high as we packed our junk and trudged back to public parking.
Don't worry...we'll be back.
One day the week before school started back, I packed a picnic basket and the splash bomb, threw some bathing suits and towels into a Target bag and we headed to the beach. This is one thing I love about living in Lower Alabama: day trips to the beach are totally doable.
As I sat with my book looking out across the ocean, watching my family frolic in the water (a little far away in my opinion, but dad's with them, so how bad can it be, right?), I couldn't help but be a little overwhelmed - verklempt, if you will - at God's goodness in giving me such sweet and sublime folks to share space with, even if they did get sand in the Cheetos. Ahhh...peace. This is exaclty what I've been needing. A respite from life shaken and stirred. If I could be anywhere in the world right now I would choose this exact spot. Why, even the weather seems to...
Huh. That's odd. Michael's face looks a bit funny. Hmm...what could be wrong with Caroline and Ethan...they seem to be waving at something. Is that crying I hear? I wonder...could it...no...JELLYFISH!
Mason then came running to me to let me know that, indeed, a jellyfish had entered our lives that picturesque day. The look I saw on Michael's face was not a smile, but rather, a grimace of pain. It didn't take long for Ethan and Caroline to become mildly hysterical. Caroline got stung on her hand while Michael tried to push her away from the gelatinous beast. For Ethan, it was his thigh.
I applied some ice to their stinging skin. A brazen novice at this, I tried to process information as well-meaning beach goers offered sage wisdom and home rememdies a-plenty: put them back into the water, apply sand, go by a balm, pee works, try that.
The stings were actually not too bad (Michael got it the worst), and after some chocolate chip cookies, gatorade, and plenty of hugs, the hysteria began to ebb. Molly took the longest to recover. That's right, Molly - who was no where near the water when the attack occured. She just has such a compassionate heart that she was in almost as much pain as the actual victims.
Alas, the sun was setting on our day of peace and tranquility. We were no match for the jellyfish, but we held our heads high as we packed our junk and trudged back to public parking.
Don't worry...we'll be back.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
You "Cat" Always Get What You Want
How could she have known what the day would bring? If she could have forseen how the events of the day would ultimately unfold, would she have chosen to stay in bed all day? Maybe...or maybe not.
Caroline is my almost-nine-year-old. She is a joy and full of life. However, one day just a couple of weeks back she got some lessons I think she'll never forget.
It started out as any other day. Summer break was upon us and it just so happened I was due to make my bi-weekly trip to Super Wal-Mart. I got up at 6:30am, ran a brush over both my hair and teeth and was out the door by 7:00am. While perusing the aisles of my local super-store I saw a display of coloring books. Wouldn't it be nice, I thought, to get the kids a coloring book. They'll think I'm the best mom ever. Boy, was I wrong.
I chose a Disney princess coloring book for Molly and for Caroline I chose a very lovely Tinkerbell one. When I presented the gifts, I quickly received the usual la-la-la's from Molly (who has the neatest gift of showing such avid and genuine appreciation for things given to her - it's fun to watch), but over in Caroline's corner I could see the storm a-brewin'.
"What's wrong, Caroline?" I dared to ask.
"You know I wanted that Princess coloring book! When we were in the store last week I showed it to you and told you how much I wanted it! I don't like Tinkerbell and I don't want that coloring book! You gave the coloring book I wanted to Molly and you love her more!" She went on.
I honestly did not remember Caroline pointing that coloring book out to me, or her admiring it. I turned to Molly to ask if she'd consider switching and there she was writing her name on the cover of the Princess one - in Sharpie of course. She wasn't letting loose.
I begged Caroline's forgiveness and Molly even said she would share (to a point). Caroline was completely dejected and it wasn't even noon.
After lunch, Molly and Mason were invited to a friend's house, and Caroline felt left out again. As I drove away with the other two, Caroline looked at her dad and said, "This is a terrible day! I hate my life! I have nothing to live for!" (is she a dramatic child? Ummm, that would be an emphatic yes.)
Michael, in typical Michael fashion, stepped in to save the day.
"Caroline, would you like to go for a walk with me?" he asked.
"Yes, Daddy," she replied.
As they walked, Michael reminded her of her importance to our family, of how God has a wonderful plan for her and how he loves her so much. We may not always get what we want when we want it, but God is committed to finishing what he's started in us and how she, Caroline, is a precious beloved daughter, not just to us, but to her Heavenly Father as well.
About halfway around our block, something happened. A tiny, nasty ball of wet fur came creeping straight up to Caroline. A kitten, not 8 weeks old, had found it's way into the arms of my daughter.
Michael and Caroline took the kitten home, gave him a bath (!), fed him, and fell for him within 30 minutes. When I got home, she introduced me to her new friend...Tiger.
I took Caroline to the store right away and we bought kitten chow, kitty litter, a bed and a litter box. While we were driving home Caroline was talking non-stop about her new friend and all that she wanted to do with him. She talked until she was blue in the face with excitement. After a few minutes she got really quiet and said, "Mom, I'm sorry I got so mad at you this morning about the coloring book. I know now that wasn't really important. And if I had gone with Molly and Mason, then I wouldn't have met Tiger. So, I guess this was a good day after all."
I guess it's all about perspective.
Bless ya!
Caroline is my almost-nine-year-old. She is a joy and full of life. However, one day just a couple of weeks back she got some lessons I think she'll never forget.
It started out as any other day. Summer break was upon us and it just so happened I was due to make my bi-weekly trip to Super Wal-Mart. I got up at 6:30am, ran a brush over both my hair and teeth and was out the door by 7:00am. While perusing the aisles of my local super-store I saw a display of coloring books. Wouldn't it be nice, I thought, to get the kids a coloring book. They'll think I'm the best mom ever. Boy, was I wrong.
I chose a Disney princess coloring book for Molly and for Caroline I chose a very lovely Tinkerbell one. When I presented the gifts, I quickly received the usual la-la-la's from Molly (who has the neatest gift of showing such avid and genuine appreciation for things given to her - it's fun to watch), but over in Caroline's corner I could see the storm a-brewin'.
"What's wrong, Caroline?" I dared to ask.
"You know I wanted that Princess coloring book! When we were in the store last week I showed it to you and told you how much I wanted it! I don't like Tinkerbell and I don't want that coloring book! You gave the coloring book I wanted to Molly and you love her more!" She went on.
I honestly did not remember Caroline pointing that coloring book out to me, or her admiring it. I turned to Molly to ask if she'd consider switching and there she was writing her name on the cover of the Princess one - in Sharpie of course. She wasn't letting loose.
I begged Caroline's forgiveness and Molly even said she would share (to a point). Caroline was completely dejected and it wasn't even noon.
After lunch, Molly and Mason were invited to a friend's house, and Caroline felt left out again. As I drove away with the other two, Caroline looked at her dad and said, "This is a terrible day! I hate my life! I have nothing to live for!" (is she a dramatic child? Ummm, that would be an emphatic yes.)
Michael, in typical Michael fashion, stepped in to save the day.
"Caroline, would you like to go for a walk with me?" he asked.
"Yes, Daddy," she replied.
As they walked, Michael reminded her of her importance to our family, of how God has a wonderful plan for her and how he loves her so much. We may not always get what we want when we want it, but God is committed to finishing what he's started in us and how she, Caroline, is a precious beloved daughter, not just to us, but to her Heavenly Father as well.
About halfway around our block, something happened. A tiny, nasty ball of wet fur came creeping straight up to Caroline. A kitten, not 8 weeks old, had found it's way into the arms of my daughter.
Michael and Caroline took the kitten home, gave him a bath (!), fed him, and fell for him within 30 minutes. When I got home, she introduced me to her new friend...Tiger.
I took Caroline to the store right away and we bought kitten chow, kitty litter, a bed and a litter box. While we were driving home Caroline was talking non-stop about her new friend and all that she wanted to do with him. She talked until she was blue in the face with excitement. After a few minutes she got really quiet and said, "Mom, I'm sorry I got so mad at you this morning about the coloring book. I know now that wasn't really important. And if I had gone with Molly and Mason, then I wouldn't have met Tiger. So, I guess this was a good day after all."
I guess it's all about perspective.
Bless ya!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Late Easter Reflections
Last night Ethan came up to the chair where I was reading, his arms laden with books, and said, "I need some Mama time." Of course I obliged. Who could resist?
In the same vein, last weekend Michael's mom invited Caroline to come up to Birmingham and stay with her for the weekend. I loaded her up early Friday afternoon and we made the 3 hour trek. All the way Caroline talked about Nana. Nana this, Nana that. Nana knows how to french braid...I hope we can make a chocolate pie...I love Nana's house, it's so pretty...Maybe we can watch a movie. You get the picture. caroline loooves here Nana!
Nana has 14 grandchildren, so time alone with her is at a premium. It made Caroline feel so special to be invited by her, to be singled out and wanted like that. Just the same way Ethan made me feel when he sought out my company.
Easter weekend here was a disaster. We had a stomach virus that stomped through our house, torturing everyone but Michael. I had to cancel with our Easter lunch guests, dying eggs was an after thought, and Molly and I even missed church altogether. It almost seemed like my heart might miss the significance of Easter entirely, but thankfully the Lord gave me a reminder: He reminded me that I am pursued, loved and desired. Not to sound trite or platitudinous, but the agony that Jesus endured on the cross really was for me. And because he loves me he comes after me, to be with me, to work on me even in all my messiness - he considers me worth it.
My "Armenian" friends may not agree, but I love the chorus of this hymn:
O Lord I did not choose You,
For that could never be,
My heart would still refuse you,
Had you not chosen me.
This Easter I was reminded that it is a thrill to be sought by the lover of my soul!
Bless ya!
In the same vein, last weekend Michael's mom invited Caroline to come up to Birmingham and stay with her for the weekend. I loaded her up early Friday afternoon and we made the 3 hour trek. All the way Caroline talked about Nana. Nana this, Nana that. Nana knows how to french braid...I hope we can make a chocolate pie...I love Nana's house, it's so pretty...Maybe we can watch a movie. You get the picture. caroline loooves here Nana!
Nana has 14 grandchildren, so time alone with her is at a premium. It made Caroline feel so special to be invited by her, to be singled out and wanted like that. Just the same way Ethan made me feel when he sought out my company.
Easter weekend here was a disaster. We had a stomach virus that stomped through our house, torturing everyone but Michael. I had to cancel with our Easter lunch guests, dying eggs was an after thought, and Molly and I even missed church altogether. It almost seemed like my heart might miss the significance of Easter entirely, but thankfully the Lord gave me a reminder: He reminded me that I am pursued, loved and desired. Not to sound trite or platitudinous, but the agony that Jesus endured on the cross really was for me. And because he loves me he comes after me, to be with me, to work on me even in all my messiness - he considers me worth it.
My "Armenian" friends may not agree, but I love the chorus of this hymn:
O Lord I did not choose You,
For that could never be,
My heart would still refuse you,
Had you not chosen me.
This Easter I was reminded that it is a thrill to be sought by the lover of my soul!
Bless ya!
Facebook Props
Facebook is wonderful. Where else would I be able to learn which Winnie the Pooh character I am, or which breakfast cereal I am most like? How did I go 40 years without knowing these things?
Bless ya!
(and thanks, Chris!)
Bless ya!
(and thanks, Chris!)
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Krispy Kreme Theology
This past Monday I headed to Mobile with Alex and Crissy for a girl's day out. We had an agenda, pretty much: Fresh Market, Target, Ann Taylor Loft, China Rose, and the Dentist's office. I really didn't care where we went...I just wanted to get out of town and hang out with my friends.
We had to split up for awhile, and we never really hit all the targets we were aiming for, but that didn't matter because a welcomed detour came upon us: A Krispy Kreme shop.
We were in line waiting to make our selections when I observed something. In line ahead of us were 3 women and 2 children. I'm assuming one of the women was the mom of the kids, one was the grandmother, and then the third adult I wasn't sure about.
One child was an infant and the other child, a little girl, was 2; maybe 3.
The little girl, you could tell, was just tickled to death to be getting a doughnut. So much so that when the doughnuts were on the tray, along with some drinks, the sweet little thing tried to help by lifting the tray up off the counter, I can only guess, to carry it. It didn't take long for the inevitable to happen. Doughnuts and cokes spilled everywhere, littering the floor with sprinkles and sticky stuff. It didn't take more than a second for the little girl to realize what she had done and what it could possibly mean for her. Her wails were full of sorrow..."My doughnut!" she cried (and cried and cried).
Crissy quickly grabbed napkins and we tried to soothe the little girl as best we could. Of course, her mother must have thought we were idiots...then again, she probably just concluded that we were mothers.
Within minutes, the Krispy Kreme staff had launched into "customer mode" and the little girl had a fresh set of doughnuts and drinks. As we were leaving I looked at her, sitting happily at her table, legs swinging beneath her, nibbling on her doughnut and not trace of the sorrow and tears of minutes before.
It got me thinking...
I am like that little girl. Sometimes I see the situation I'm in and I fret. Sometimes I am the one responsible for the situation, sometimes not, but too often I look around me, see the circumstances and think only of the possible negative implications. If that little girl could only have known that even though her doughnut fell, even though her coke splayed itself all over the front of the counter, there was no way on earth her mother was going to say to her, "Well, too bad! You spilled the tray, so no doughnut for you!" No, her mother was compassionate, understanding, and patient with her mess, not chiding her, but calming her with her love and nearness.
God is like that mother. Sometimes my doughnut hits the ground rolling. Sometimes I make the biggest messes with my bad decisions, my somewhat less-than-patient responses. But like that little girl, I am learning. I'll bet the next time she goes into Krispy Kreme, she will think twice about trying to heave that tray to the table. God is sweet to let me experience my depravity...to see how much I am saved from...to see how much I am loved and cherished. I'm not saying that God will replace my doughnuts when I drop them (because let's face it...sometimes the illustrations just plain breakdown, don't they?), but that when I do drop them, He still loves me, He's still my Daddy, and He's committed to loving me as His daughter and teaching me more about holiness along the way. Then maybe the next time an opportunity to make a mess arises, I could possibly choose differently. Only by His grace...only by the power of the Spirit.
Bless ya!
We had to split up for awhile, and we never really hit all the targets we were aiming for, but that didn't matter because a welcomed detour came upon us: A Krispy Kreme shop.
We were in line waiting to make our selections when I observed something. In line ahead of us were 3 women and 2 children. I'm assuming one of the women was the mom of the kids, one was the grandmother, and then the third adult I wasn't sure about.
One child was an infant and the other child, a little girl, was 2; maybe 3.
The little girl, you could tell, was just tickled to death to be getting a doughnut. So much so that when the doughnuts were on the tray, along with some drinks, the sweet little thing tried to help by lifting the tray up off the counter, I can only guess, to carry it. It didn't take long for the inevitable to happen. Doughnuts and cokes spilled everywhere, littering the floor with sprinkles and sticky stuff. It didn't take more than a second for the little girl to realize what she had done and what it could possibly mean for her. Her wails were full of sorrow..."My doughnut!" she cried (and cried and cried).
Crissy quickly grabbed napkins and we tried to soothe the little girl as best we could. Of course, her mother must have thought we were idiots...then again, she probably just concluded that we were mothers.
Within minutes, the Krispy Kreme staff had launched into "customer mode" and the little girl had a fresh set of doughnuts and drinks. As we were leaving I looked at her, sitting happily at her table, legs swinging beneath her, nibbling on her doughnut and not trace of the sorrow and tears of minutes before.
It got me thinking...
I am like that little girl. Sometimes I see the situation I'm in and I fret. Sometimes I am the one responsible for the situation, sometimes not, but too often I look around me, see the circumstances and think only of the possible negative implications. If that little girl could only have known that even though her doughnut fell, even though her coke splayed itself all over the front of the counter, there was no way on earth her mother was going to say to her, "Well, too bad! You spilled the tray, so no doughnut for you!" No, her mother was compassionate, understanding, and patient with her mess, not chiding her, but calming her with her love and nearness.
God is like that mother. Sometimes my doughnut hits the ground rolling. Sometimes I make the biggest messes with my bad decisions, my somewhat less-than-patient responses. But like that little girl, I am learning. I'll bet the next time she goes into Krispy Kreme, she will think twice about trying to heave that tray to the table. God is sweet to let me experience my depravity...to see how much I am saved from...to see how much I am loved and cherished. I'm not saying that God will replace my doughnuts when I drop them (because let's face it...sometimes the illustrations just plain breakdown, don't they?), but that when I do drop them, He still loves me, He's still my Daddy, and He's committed to loving me as His daughter and teaching me more about holiness along the way. Then maybe the next time an opportunity to make a mess arises, I could possibly choose differently. Only by His grace...only by the power of the Spirit.
Bless ya!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Trouble Right Here in Amytown
The other day I was sitting with Molly – I forget what we were doing – but I turned my attention to her and asked:
MOM: So, Molly, what’s up in Molly world?
MOLLY: Huh? I mean, ma’am?
MOM: What’s shakin’ in Mollytown? What’s happenin’? Aren’t you the ruler of Mollyville??
MOLLY: No, Mom, I’m not the ruler…Jesus is.
Later that evening, we were all sitting at the dinner table and I relayed the interchange to the rest of our family. Michael joined in…
MICHAEL: So, Jesus is the ruler of Mollyville, huh?
MOLLY: Yes, Daddy, but I AM the president.
I share this because it got me thinking of how much of a dictatorship Amytown is sometimes. Amytown is often very important to me, and I just dare one to make it difficult or messy. Amytown is at its best when it is neat and tidy. I like to talk about Amytown (obviously), making sure Amytown has everything it needs. Amytown is often a slave to order and predictability…but some of the best “towns” are, am I right? Amytown is a comfortable place (or at least, her ruler-ME-desires it to be…sometimes above all else).
It’s laughable, really, how often I do make life about me, what I want, what bothers me, and how to bring comfort back to those raw, uncomfortable places.
The last few days have been very encouraging ones to me. God has sent some people my way to remind me which way to face. When I am too mired down in thinking about how life is affecting me and looking only at my circumstances, I forget who is holding me, and more than that – who is holding the universe. God is in this, and he wants me to take my eyes off of self and put them back where they belong…on Him.
So, thank you Molly, for reminding me that ultimately I want Jesus to be ruler of Amytown, not me. In fact, I don’t even want to be president when you get right down to it. Maybe some unimportant cabinet position or something…ok, now this is just getting weird.
Bless ya!
MOM: So, Molly, what’s up in Molly world?
MOLLY: Huh? I mean, ma’am?
MOM: What’s shakin’ in Mollytown? What’s happenin’? Aren’t you the ruler of Mollyville??
MOLLY: No, Mom, I’m not the ruler…Jesus is.
Later that evening, we were all sitting at the dinner table and I relayed the interchange to the rest of our family. Michael joined in…
MICHAEL: So, Jesus is the ruler of Mollyville, huh?
MOLLY: Yes, Daddy, but I AM the president.
I share this because it got me thinking of how much of a dictatorship Amytown is sometimes. Amytown is often very important to me, and I just dare one to make it difficult or messy. Amytown is at its best when it is neat and tidy. I like to talk about Amytown (obviously), making sure Amytown has everything it needs. Amytown is often a slave to order and predictability…but some of the best “towns” are, am I right? Amytown is a comfortable place (or at least, her ruler-ME-desires it to be…sometimes above all else).
It’s laughable, really, how often I do make life about me, what I want, what bothers me, and how to bring comfort back to those raw, uncomfortable places.
The last few days have been very encouraging ones to me. God has sent some people my way to remind me which way to face. When I am too mired down in thinking about how life is affecting me and looking only at my circumstances, I forget who is holding me, and more than that – who is holding the universe. God is in this, and he wants me to take my eyes off of self and put them back where they belong…on Him.
So, thank you Molly, for reminding me that ultimately I want Jesus to be ruler of Amytown, not me. In fact, I don’t even want to be president when you get right down to it. Maybe some unimportant cabinet position or something…ok, now this is just getting weird.
Bless ya!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Back to Reality
I think it's funny that every so often some poor person ends up on my blog who is just looking for a way to get crayons off their clothes once they've been through the dryer. This is all thanks to Google. If you do a search for "get crayons off clothes in dryer" or something like that, my blog will be among the results.
Boy, have I been there. Those crayons are little dickens to get off, as well. Actually, you can't really remove it all. I think Michael has a couple shirts which are monuments to the elusive crayon in the dryer.
I got to have a break this week. It was so relaxing and so energizing. The tanks feel full.
Julie, Terry: I love you! I had such a wonderful time with you both! I'm so thankful God caused our lives to intersect. Yours are friendships I will cherish all my life...thanks!
And Alex, Jean and Michelle: I love you as well! Thank you for taking care of my children for me so I could rest. I never worried about them for one second. You are a like a gift to me!! I appreciate you so much...thanks!
Sigh...life is good.
Bless ya!
Boy, have I been there. Those crayons are little dickens to get off, as well. Actually, you can't really remove it all. I think Michael has a couple shirts which are monuments to the elusive crayon in the dryer.
I got to have a break this week. It was so relaxing and so energizing. The tanks feel full.
Julie, Terry: I love you! I had such a wonderful time with you both! I'm so thankful God caused our lives to intersect. Yours are friendships I will cherish all my life...thanks!
And Alex, Jean and Michelle: I love you as well! Thank you for taking care of my children for me so I could rest. I never worried about them for one second. You are a like a gift to me!! I appreciate you so much...thanks!
Sigh...life is good.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Right or Left?
Last week we were all in the car and I heard Mason yell from the back seat:
"Mom! Which one's my right hand and which one's my left?"
Michael and I glanced at each other. How could he forget this? I mean, didn't he learn this years ago? he's almost 10 for Pete's sake!
I yelled back that your left is the one that can make a correct looking "L for left" with your thumb and pointer finger. (Isn't that how you remember it?)
It made me think...
Sometimes I walk around like I am an orphan. Like I have no heavenly Father. Like I have no Holy Spirit to speak to me. Sometimes the cares of this world come crashing down and I forget what's true: I forget the gospel.
Thankfully, when I do forget, God is sweet to remind me. He doesn't srcunch up his face and wonder, "How can she forget this? Didn't she learn this years ago? She's 40 for Pete's sake!" No. Instead he is kind to show Himself again and remind me that he sees all I see, and more. Things may look hopeless, they may look real, real bad, but God is good and he is all I need.
Bless ya!
By the way...who is this "Pete" anyway, and why do we say things for his sake?
"Mom! Which one's my right hand and which one's my left?"
Michael and I glanced at each other. How could he forget this? I mean, didn't he learn this years ago? he's almost 10 for Pete's sake!
I yelled back that your left is the one that can make a correct looking "L for left" with your thumb and pointer finger. (Isn't that how you remember it?)
It made me think...
Sometimes I walk around like I am an orphan. Like I have no heavenly Father. Like I have no Holy Spirit to speak to me. Sometimes the cares of this world come crashing down and I forget what's true: I forget the gospel.
Thankfully, when I do forget, God is sweet to remind me. He doesn't srcunch up his face and wonder, "How can she forget this? Didn't she learn this years ago? She's 40 for Pete's sake!" No. Instead he is kind to show Himself again and remind me that he sees all I see, and more. Things may look hopeless, they may look real, real bad, but God is good and he is all I need.
Bless ya!
By the way...who is this "Pete" anyway, and why do we say things for his sake?
Rocks for Money
A few weeks ago Molly and Caroline were looking for some ways to earn some extra spending money. Caroline is saving her pennies to buy Felicity's bed ensemble...it costs about $100. That, to me, seems like a daunting amount for an 8 year old to save with no birthday or Christmas in near sight. When I was her age I would have given up at about $25, had my mom drive me to Harco (remember Harco?) so I could buy $25 worth of bubble gum and lip gloss. But that's neither here nor there.
My kids are savers. Well, Mason and Caroline are; Molly has to get rid of her money the instant she has a dime. Pull the car over, Mom! I've got to find a gumball machine! Mason actually saved every dime to buy his Nintendo DS. He then saved to get some Wii games and controllers. He denies himself in order to get the thing he really wants. Caroline is the same way, though at time it is painful for her. I bought the kids winter Crocs for Valentine's Day (they were $10 on sale). They wanted some of those little "thingamabobs" that you can poke into the holes on the crocs, so we went back to the store to look at their selection. Everybody picked out 2 or 3, and produced the cash to pay for such. I looked over at Caroline. She was starting to tear up looking at the cute little "Cinderella" thingy (I really don't know the name for these. Anybody?)
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked
"I really want one of those thingys...but I also really want to save for Felicity's bed set!"
"Well, Caroline, I think you should save for the thing you really want."
"Yes, but everyone else is getting one!"
"And then their money will be gone, but you'll still have a good head start on your bed for Felicity. Would you like to buy just one thingy instead of two?"
"No, Mom...I'm going to save my money for the bed."
Anyway, back to my story...the one about the girls looking for ways to earn some extra money.
Michael told the girls that he would give them 1 penny for each rock they picked up out of the yard. At first I thought that was kind of cruel. I mean, they would be out there working for what, to them, would seem like all day, and for their effort they might get 50 cents. Maybe a dollar if they were fast.
Michael and I grossly underestimated our dainty little girls.
Caroline wanted to know how many rocks she'd have to pick up to earn $20. 2000 rocks, I told her.
Later, on the porch, sat 2 huge buckets full of rocks. 2000 rocks. Caroline earned $20 that day, and Molly earned $18, I think.
Tenacity like that makes me want to just call the American Girl company and pay for that bed myself. She deserves it! But in the long run, I know that she will prize the bed much, much more if she saves the money for it herself. It's good for her to learn lessons of sacrifice and delayed gratification. I still need reminders of these quite often. I know it's just a doll bed; I know it's just a "thing", but I love what it's doing in her heart. I pray that as she grows up, not having been given everything her little heart desires, that she grows to be content with the things that are really important, that she loves the Lord with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength, and that the "doll beds" of her life are just the icing.
Bless ya!
My kids are savers. Well, Mason and Caroline are; Molly has to get rid of her money the instant she has a dime. Pull the car over, Mom! I've got to find a gumball machine! Mason actually saved every dime to buy his Nintendo DS. He then saved to get some Wii games and controllers. He denies himself in order to get the thing he really wants. Caroline is the same way, though at time it is painful for her. I bought the kids winter Crocs for Valentine's Day (they were $10 on sale). They wanted some of those little "thingamabobs" that you can poke into the holes on the crocs, so we went back to the store to look at their selection. Everybody picked out 2 or 3, and produced the cash to pay for such. I looked over at Caroline. She was starting to tear up looking at the cute little "Cinderella" thingy (I really don't know the name for these. Anybody?)
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked
"I really want one of those thingys...but I also really want to save for Felicity's bed set!"
"Well, Caroline, I think you should save for the thing you really want."
"Yes, but everyone else is getting one!"
"And then their money will be gone, but you'll still have a good head start on your bed for Felicity. Would you like to buy just one thingy instead of two?"
"No, Mom...I'm going to save my money for the bed."
Anyway, back to my story...the one about the girls looking for ways to earn some extra money.
Michael told the girls that he would give them 1 penny for each rock they picked up out of the yard. At first I thought that was kind of cruel. I mean, they would be out there working for what, to them, would seem like all day, and for their effort they might get 50 cents. Maybe a dollar if they were fast.
Michael and I grossly underestimated our dainty little girls.
Caroline wanted to know how many rocks she'd have to pick up to earn $20. 2000 rocks, I told her.
Later, on the porch, sat 2 huge buckets full of rocks. 2000 rocks. Caroline earned $20 that day, and Molly earned $18, I think.
Tenacity like that makes me want to just call the American Girl company and pay for that bed myself. She deserves it! But in the long run, I know that she will prize the bed much, much more if she saves the money for it herself. It's good for her to learn lessons of sacrifice and delayed gratification. I still need reminders of these quite often. I know it's just a doll bed; I know it's just a "thing", but I love what it's doing in her heart. I pray that as she grows up, not having been given everything her little heart desires, that she grows to be content with the things that are really important, that she loves the Lord with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength, and that the "doll beds" of her life are just the icing.
Bless ya!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Twilight Years
I turned 40 last month.
It was a wonderful day! Michael and the kids made me breakfast (apple/pear turnovers from scratch and raspberry milkshakes). I had lunch with some of my sweet friends, shopped at the thrift store and then later, at the Beehive, Michael and the kids threw me a surprise party. It was all the more sweet because my sweet husband and children were really "into" it. They made most of the food and came up with the plan. The gave me a new Blackberry, and I got lots of great presents. I felt so special, and I will remember that day until my mind goes...probably in a couple years.
Something happened though, a few days later, which put a bit of a damper on the bliss in my heart:
I received an application from the AARP.
Did some jokester out there fill out an interest card in my name? Is 40 the age the AARP starts taking new members? I would think at least 50 would be more appropriate!! Is it really time for me to be thinking of Medicare? Nursing home insurance? I thought 40 was the new 30?!
I became slightly forlorn and decided to look up AARP on the web. Guess what? It IS 50!! So, I have one more decade before I have to start thinking about that. Whew!
I'm guessing it was my brother. He's always doing stuff like that!
Bless ya!
It was a wonderful day! Michael and the kids made me breakfast (apple/pear turnovers from scratch and raspberry milkshakes). I had lunch with some of my sweet friends, shopped at the thrift store and then later, at the Beehive, Michael and the kids threw me a surprise party. It was all the more sweet because my sweet husband and children were really "into" it. They made most of the food and came up with the plan. The gave me a new Blackberry, and I got lots of great presents. I felt so special, and I will remember that day until my mind goes...probably in a couple years.
Something happened though, a few days later, which put a bit of a damper on the bliss in my heart:
I received an application from the AARP.
Did some jokester out there fill out an interest card in my name? Is 40 the age the AARP starts taking new members? I would think at least 50 would be more appropriate!! Is it really time for me to be thinking of Medicare? Nursing home insurance? I thought 40 was the new 30?!
I became slightly forlorn and decided to look up AARP on the web. Guess what? It IS 50!! So, I have one more decade before I have to start thinking about that. Whew!
I'm guessing it was my brother. He's always doing stuff like that!
Bless ya!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
My Funny Valentine
Ahh, Valentine’s Day. The holiday of love…an ode to romance. A day of hearts and chocolate.
Our Valentine’s day started out much like yours did, I’m sure. When all in the children were awake we exchanged our Valentine sentiments in the form of candy, cards, and many hugs. Following this, we all did our morning chores, got dressed and hopped in the van for a trip to Mobile and lunch at Chik-fil-A. Who could ask for more?
Michael and I had reservations for dinner at the Beehive (our local coffee shop/bookstore) at 7pm. Had a babysitter, the whole 9 yards. We had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves in Mobile…and it’s always good to get out of town for a bit.
We got to Chik-Fil-A around 12:15, after taking a short detour to Game Stop. Molly had $20 burning a hole in her pocket and decided a new Wii game was just the ticket (it’s some kind of Barbie game…she rides a horse and has to take care of it and stuff. I played it – it’s quite fun).
We enjoyed our lunch and the kids played on the playground while Michael and I read our books. It was nice.
Before leaving Mobile we stopped by Lowe’s. Michael got some seeds for the garden, and in the parking lot on our way out, Mason picked something up off the ground. It had 2 yellow feathers on it. It was a roach clip. And on the end of it was a piece of a joint.
Now, let me go ahead and say on cyberspace, that I have never tried marijuana…but I DO know what a roach clip is, because some kooky time back in the 80’s it became cool to own a roach clip and clip it to stuff. Some girls wore them in their hair. I saw guys with them clipped to their cowboy hats. Don’t ask me why – people just did it. I personally had one that I bought at a flea market clipped to the curtain in my bedroom. I didn’t know what they were used for , but if everyone else was going to have one – I was, too. It was kind of like the Rubic’s cube keychain (which I bought at the same flea market)…it was one of those things you just had if you were a child of the 80’s…and lived in Sylacauga.
When Mason showed me his “treasure”, I just didn’t know what to say or do. Literally, I was speechless for a moment. Finally I said, “Throw that thing down!” then got into the car, and to change the subject passed around a box of tic-tacs and told everyone they could have one joint a piece.
Yes, I actually said that.
On the way home Mason and Ethan were uncharacteristically quiet. Ethan finally fell asleep, but Mason began to moan.
It’s 10 hours later now (11:45 pm). Michael and I missed our date at the Beehive. Ethan has a fever of 101.9. Mason is laying on the couch with stomach malaise and needs me. I’ll be home from church in the morning, and I had to cancel our visit from Caroline G tomorrow.
After his dinner of cold pizza and some corkscrew pasta with a little parmesan on top (and before he headed off to bed) Michael gave me a Valentine card. I jumped up and gave him the card I had bought for him, too. A quick hug, kiss and “I love you…goodnight” was the apex of our romantic holiday.
But it’s ok. It’s kind of silly, really. I mean, we should be cherishing the people we love every day…not just once a year, right?
One side note: I feel I need to come clean on something. It's true that one year Michael gave me a dustbuster for Valentine’s Day. He likes to use that as a self-deprecating illustration, but you know what? I ASKED for the dustbuster. It was early on in our marriage, we were broke, and the thing was like fifty bucks! I told him that with a baby coming we’d need a dustbuster and he could give it to me as my Valentine’s present. So when you think about it, giving me a dustbuster for Valentine’s Day was actually a self-sacrificing thing, with all the ribbing he’s gotten for it over the years.
That’s my Valentine! Hope you had a good one…
Bless ya!
Our Valentine’s day started out much like yours did, I’m sure. When all in the children were awake we exchanged our Valentine sentiments in the form of candy, cards, and many hugs. Following this, we all did our morning chores, got dressed and hopped in the van for a trip to Mobile and lunch at Chik-fil-A. Who could ask for more?
Michael and I had reservations for dinner at the Beehive (our local coffee shop/bookstore) at 7pm. Had a babysitter, the whole 9 yards. We had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves in Mobile…and it’s always good to get out of town for a bit.
We got to Chik-Fil-A around 12:15, after taking a short detour to Game Stop. Molly had $20 burning a hole in her pocket and decided a new Wii game was just the ticket (it’s some kind of Barbie game…she rides a horse and has to take care of it and stuff. I played it – it’s quite fun).
We enjoyed our lunch and the kids played on the playground while Michael and I read our books. It was nice.
Before leaving Mobile we stopped by Lowe’s. Michael got some seeds for the garden, and in the parking lot on our way out, Mason picked something up off the ground. It had 2 yellow feathers on it. It was a roach clip. And on the end of it was a piece of a joint.
Now, let me go ahead and say on cyberspace, that I have never tried marijuana…but I DO know what a roach clip is, because some kooky time back in the 80’s it became cool to own a roach clip and clip it to stuff. Some girls wore them in their hair. I saw guys with them clipped to their cowboy hats. Don’t ask me why – people just did it. I personally had one that I bought at a flea market clipped to the curtain in my bedroom. I didn’t know what they were used for , but if everyone else was going to have one – I was, too. It was kind of like the Rubic’s cube keychain (which I bought at the same flea market)…it was one of those things you just had if you were a child of the 80’s…and lived in Sylacauga.
When Mason showed me his “treasure”, I just didn’t know what to say or do. Literally, I was speechless for a moment. Finally I said, “Throw that thing down!” then got into the car, and to change the subject passed around a box of tic-tacs and told everyone they could have one joint a piece.
Yes, I actually said that.
On the way home Mason and Ethan were uncharacteristically quiet. Ethan finally fell asleep, but Mason began to moan.
It’s 10 hours later now (11:45 pm). Michael and I missed our date at the Beehive. Ethan has a fever of 101.9. Mason is laying on the couch with stomach malaise and needs me. I’ll be home from church in the morning, and I had to cancel our visit from Caroline G tomorrow.
After his dinner of cold pizza and some corkscrew pasta with a little parmesan on top (and before he headed off to bed) Michael gave me a Valentine card. I jumped up and gave him the card I had bought for him, too. A quick hug, kiss and “I love you…goodnight” was the apex of our romantic holiday.
But it’s ok. It’s kind of silly, really. I mean, we should be cherishing the people we love every day…not just once a year, right?
One side note: I feel I need to come clean on something. It's true that one year Michael gave me a dustbuster for Valentine’s Day. He likes to use that as a self-deprecating illustration, but you know what? I ASKED for the dustbuster. It was early on in our marriage, we were broke, and the thing was like fifty bucks! I told him that with a baby coming we’d need a dustbuster and he could give it to me as my Valentine’s present. So when you think about it, giving me a dustbuster for Valentine’s Day was actually a self-sacrificing thing, with all the ribbing he’s gotten for it over the years.
That’s my Valentine! Hope you had a good one…
Bless ya!
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Wii!!!!!
Last Friday morning Molly went out to get the paper (it’s one of her daily chores). On her way back in, something caught her eye. Evidently during the night an unknown benefactor and dear person left something on our porch.
It was a bit heavy for Molly to carry inside (?), so she called her brother Mason to her aid. They brought the bag to me. I told them it must be a belated Christmas present, but the tag said only “MacCaughelty Family”; the giver’s name was absent.
As I was trying to get the tape off, Mason said, “What if it’s a Wii?”
“It’s not a Wii,” I said in reply.
I loosed the tape and removed the paper. We all looked down into the bag together and saw it there…sideways…Wii.
For a moment, everyone was quiet, but pandemonium soon broke out.
“Who’s it from?” Caroline asked.
This is the thing…I have no idea who it is from. Well, I have an idea who it might be from, but they didn’t give me their name, so they must not want me to know. And how cool is that? Too often we want recognition for some good deed we do, but this person wanted us to wonder and to simply enjoy the gift without strings. And wonder/enjoy we have. Ultimately, though, we believe this great gift is from the Lord, who put it on the heart of the giver to bless us in wonderful ways. I don’t know who it’s from, and I’m not going to try and find out because maybe being an “unknown giver” is a blessing for that person, too. Mason was just so beside himself that a person we know would love us enough to make such a sacrifice and remain anonymous. “You mean they don’t want us to thank them, Mom?”
If you, Giver of the Wii, are reading this…thank you, thank you, thank you!!! You have given us much delight!
Mason had actually been saving for a Wii and Michael had promised to give the last bit of it. Mason took the money he had saved and bought games, while Michael took the money he had promised to chip in and bought a controller. Aunt Lynne came to visit this week and she brought us Mario cart and some of those cool “steering wheels”. So now, we are pretty much hooked up.
Tennis is my favorite and the first day I played I sustained injuries both to my finger and shoulder. Mason has a black eye from where he hit himself with a steering wheel during a very "intense" Mario Cart race. No pain, no gain…that’s what I always say.
Isn’t that neat? How God could take the “desires of the heart” of a little boy and make them reality through someone else? I love that about God.
Bless ya!
It was a bit heavy for Molly to carry inside (?), so she called her brother Mason to her aid. They brought the bag to me. I told them it must be a belated Christmas present, but the tag said only “MacCaughelty Family”; the giver’s name was absent.
As I was trying to get the tape off, Mason said, “What if it’s a Wii?”
“It’s not a Wii,” I said in reply.
I loosed the tape and removed the paper. We all looked down into the bag together and saw it there…sideways…Wii.
For a moment, everyone was quiet, but pandemonium soon broke out.
“Who’s it from?” Caroline asked.
This is the thing…I have no idea who it is from. Well, I have an idea who it might be from, but they didn’t give me their name, so they must not want me to know. And how cool is that? Too often we want recognition for some good deed we do, but this person wanted us to wonder and to simply enjoy the gift without strings. And wonder/enjoy we have. Ultimately, though, we believe this great gift is from the Lord, who put it on the heart of the giver to bless us in wonderful ways. I don’t know who it’s from, and I’m not going to try and find out because maybe being an “unknown giver” is a blessing for that person, too. Mason was just so beside himself that a person we know would love us enough to make such a sacrifice and remain anonymous. “You mean they don’t want us to thank them, Mom?”
If you, Giver of the Wii, are reading this…thank you, thank you, thank you!!! You have given us much delight!
Mason had actually been saving for a Wii and Michael had promised to give the last bit of it. Mason took the money he had saved and bought games, while Michael took the money he had promised to chip in and bought a controller. Aunt Lynne came to visit this week and she brought us Mario cart and some of those cool “steering wheels”. So now, we are pretty much hooked up.
Tennis is my favorite and the first day I played I sustained injuries both to my finger and shoulder. Mason has a black eye from where he hit himself with a steering wheel during a very "intense" Mario Cart race. No pain, no gain…that’s what I always say.
Isn’t that neat? How God could take the “desires of the heart” of a little boy and make them reality through someone else? I love that about God.
Bless ya!
Even More Tales From the Potty
Success!
Ethan! Has! Finally! Done it!
Last night at our Bible study group I bravely asked for prayer. Most of the other requests were for friends and family members who are sick or going through trials. When I sensed the lull that would carry us over into the actual task of prayer, I made the “ahem” noise and all eyes shifted to me.
“I know this may not seem important,” I began, “but would you all mind praying for Ethan and I in the task of potty training? It’s very frustrating to us both.”
I then launched into the condensed version of a tale so brutally true, I almost hated my transparence. It goes a little something like this…
A few days ago Ethan and I started into our ritual of every 30 minute bathroom visits. I’ll be honest: my mood wasn’t great. It seemed like I would put Ethan in the appropriate situation to be successful, only to have him be UNsuccessful minutes after removing him. Everything I have read about potty training says that this stage is a very sensitive one – one wrong move from me and the kid may never go correctly. So, I have had the inner war of really wanting to blow my top, yet asking the Lord to help me refrain for the sake of my child and my time management. I think I fell somewhere in the middle, probably a little closer to where I shouldn’t have been.
I explained to Ethan very “firmly” that only babies go poo-poo in their pants…you are a big boy…if you ever want to play with another toy again you’d better get this right…I’ll give you m&ms if you go…etc.
I know – I sound like a complete witch.
After several mishaps that day, I sighed in resignation and reached for a Pull Up. After jerking it up over his fanny he looked up at me with those big blue eyes, put his hands on my cheeks, gave me a kiss and said, “Thank you for not yelling at me, mommy…”
I grabbed him and cried and kissed him all over and told him how sorry I was for being so impatient. (Oh, my goodness! I’m tearing up now!) I told him that I loved him and that I make many of my own messes (not the same kind, of course) almost every day. I asked him to forgive me for loving my to-do list and my schedule and my clean bathroom too, too much.
He said he forgave me, then in typical Ethan fashion asked me, “Mommy, can we be tigers now?”
Ethan has had 2 successful attempts since last night. A big thanks to my Bible study group for praying, and for knowing that no thing is too small or too insignificant to ask of the Father.
Bless ya!
Ethan! Has! Finally! Done it!
Last night at our Bible study group I bravely asked for prayer. Most of the other requests were for friends and family members who are sick or going through trials. When I sensed the lull that would carry us over into the actual task of prayer, I made the “ahem” noise and all eyes shifted to me.
“I know this may not seem important,” I began, “but would you all mind praying for Ethan and I in the task of potty training? It’s very frustrating to us both.”
I then launched into the condensed version of a tale so brutally true, I almost hated my transparence. It goes a little something like this…
A few days ago Ethan and I started into our ritual of every 30 minute bathroom visits. I’ll be honest: my mood wasn’t great. It seemed like I would put Ethan in the appropriate situation to be successful, only to have him be UNsuccessful minutes after removing him. Everything I have read about potty training says that this stage is a very sensitive one – one wrong move from me and the kid may never go correctly. So, I have had the inner war of really wanting to blow my top, yet asking the Lord to help me refrain for the sake of my child and my time management. I think I fell somewhere in the middle, probably a little closer to where I shouldn’t have been.
I explained to Ethan very “firmly” that only babies go poo-poo in their pants…you are a big boy…if you ever want to play with another toy again you’d better get this right…I’ll give you m&ms if you go…etc.
I know – I sound like a complete witch.
After several mishaps that day, I sighed in resignation and reached for a Pull Up. After jerking it up over his fanny he looked up at me with those big blue eyes, put his hands on my cheeks, gave me a kiss and said, “Thank you for not yelling at me, mommy…”
I grabbed him and cried and kissed him all over and told him how sorry I was for being so impatient. (Oh, my goodness! I’m tearing up now!) I told him that I loved him and that I make many of my own messes (not the same kind, of course) almost every day. I asked him to forgive me for loving my to-do list and my schedule and my clean bathroom too, too much.
He said he forgave me, then in typical Ethan fashion asked me, “Mommy, can we be tigers now?”
Ethan has had 2 successful attempts since last night. A big thanks to my Bible study group for praying, and for knowing that no thing is too small or too insignificant to ask of the Father.
Bless ya!
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Silent and Deadly
This is NOT about what it sounds like it’s about.
No, it’s about Ethan. Again.
Ethan is a very jovial little fellow. He talks non-stop, asks “why” after everything I say, and has more volts (or wattage, or ohms…whatever works) than the energizer bunny. The kid lives and plays hard, then when he’s tired, he falls to the ground where he is and is nearly impossible to wake.
With Mason homeschooling, I often find myself distracted. I’m not complaining about it, but I can’t finish folding a basket of laundry without having to take Ethan to the potty, or find Ethan’s Thomas, or fix Ethan a snack, or juice, or put his shoes on. A couple times this week while Mason and I have been working together I’ve said, “Wait…do you hear that?”
“What, Mom?” he asks
“That silence. I must find your brother.”
Once, after one such interchange, I walked to the top of the steps to find that Ethan had decorated the hardwood floor with every sticker he could find in the house. There were monster trucks, Disney Princesses, Thomas the Tank Engine, and various cars and other vehicles. I believe these stickers were stocking stuffers…purchased from the Dollar Tree, no doubt…so one can only surmise at their quality. It didn’t take me long to realize that their removal was going to be a time consuming job, one I decided to leave for later. Bad idea. I’ll leave it at that.
One other time, after hearing a deafening and uncharacteristic silence from my youngest, I traipsed downstairs to find the playroom totally trashed. Books thrown from the shelves to the floor, paper spilled everywhere, Barbies strewn about, the desk overturned. I even found a ballet outfit on the one-legged Ken. Hmmm…
In both of these instances (and I have more), Ethan learned some (painful!) lessons about operating within the boundaries of the rules of our house (especially rule #4 – We don’t make unnecessary work for others), and I was reminded of something, too.
Here it is: If I don’t keep my house in order, it will progress to chaos very quickly. I don’t mean my literal “house” either, but rather “life”, I guess, though certainly my home would fall into this category. I’m thinking of things like relationships, physical, mental and spiritual health, and even my relationship with the Lord. If I don’t maintain my relationships, encourage them and keep short accounts, they can grow stale, or distant. If I don’t exercise and watch what I eat I can become sluggish and tired. And if I’m not daily feeding on the word of God, sitting at His feet and talking to him, it’s ME who suffers because I’m more prone to trust my own thoughts and feelings in the moment rather than what I know is true.
Chaos can slip up on me when I’m not watching out for it. Maybe I should be more alert!
Bless ya!
No, it’s about Ethan. Again.
Ethan is a very jovial little fellow. He talks non-stop, asks “why” after everything I say, and has more volts (or wattage, or ohms…whatever works) than the energizer bunny. The kid lives and plays hard, then when he’s tired, he falls to the ground where he is and is nearly impossible to wake.
With Mason homeschooling, I often find myself distracted. I’m not complaining about it, but I can’t finish folding a basket of laundry without having to take Ethan to the potty, or find Ethan’s Thomas, or fix Ethan a snack, or juice, or put his shoes on. A couple times this week while Mason and I have been working together I’ve said, “Wait…do you hear that?”
“What, Mom?” he asks
“That silence. I must find your brother.”
Once, after one such interchange, I walked to the top of the steps to find that Ethan had decorated the hardwood floor with every sticker he could find in the house. There were monster trucks, Disney Princesses, Thomas the Tank Engine, and various cars and other vehicles. I believe these stickers were stocking stuffers…purchased from the Dollar Tree, no doubt…so one can only surmise at their quality. It didn’t take me long to realize that their removal was going to be a time consuming job, one I decided to leave for later. Bad idea. I’ll leave it at that.
One other time, after hearing a deafening and uncharacteristic silence from my youngest, I traipsed downstairs to find the playroom totally trashed. Books thrown from the shelves to the floor, paper spilled everywhere, Barbies strewn about, the desk overturned. I even found a ballet outfit on the one-legged Ken. Hmmm…
In both of these instances (and I have more), Ethan learned some (painful!) lessons about operating within the boundaries of the rules of our house (especially rule #4 – We don’t make unnecessary work for others), and I was reminded of something, too.
Here it is: If I don’t keep my house in order, it will progress to chaos very quickly. I don’t mean my literal “house” either, but rather “life”, I guess, though certainly my home would fall into this category. I’m thinking of things like relationships, physical, mental and spiritual health, and even my relationship with the Lord. If I don’t maintain my relationships, encourage them and keep short accounts, they can grow stale, or distant. If I don’t exercise and watch what I eat I can become sluggish and tired. And if I’m not daily feeding on the word of God, sitting at His feet and talking to him, it’s ME who suffers because I’m more prone to trust my own thoughts and feelings in the moment rather than what I know is true.
Chaos can slip up on me when I’m not watching out for it. Maybe I should be more alert!
Bless ya!
Tales From the Potty
This one IS what you think it’s about, so if you’re grossed in the slightest by bathroom stories or references, I implore you to hit the page down button. This will serve as your disclaimer!!!!! No complaints!
It seems like with each child potty training has gotten more difficult. With Mason, I bought “How to Potty Train in a Day,” or whatever that book was called. I followed it’s instructions more or less, and Mason was trained in mere days.
Caroline was a little more difficult, but still basically easy.
Molly, though she was (and is) a bright little spot of sunshine, she just about pushed me over the edge and Michael had to finally barge in and rescue us both.
Now we have Ethan. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
Ethan will go #1 when I take him and make him. This involves setting the kitchen timer for every 30 minutes, which I do. Sigh.
As for the other thing - #2 – not one ounce of success. I have tried and tried and tried, but he just won’t cooperate. In fact, I have had him sit on the potty for 30 minutes or so, only to have him “make his deposit” the minute I put the big boy pants back on.
The other afternoon I just decided that he and I were going to hang out in the bathroom and have fun. We made up songs about the potty, we made up cheers about things one DOES in the potty. It was a party. The time just flew by. I wish I could say that it was effective, but I cannot. I think Ethan’s favorite was: “Push it out! Push it out! Waaaay out! Hey!” Which he, in turn, DID as soon as the Blue’s Clues big-boy pants were back in place.
Ethan even sang it for Michael when he got home from work. Michael wasn’t impressed.
Finally, I decided that the approach to take with Ethan was just to lay it all out there and have an honest heart to heart talk. It went a little something like this:
ME: Ethan, sweetie, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Everyone poops in the potty! Mason does, Caroline does, Molly does, Daddy does…
ETHAN: Pawpaw does?
ME: He sure does!
ETHAN: Aunt Lynne does?
ME: Yes, yes! You’ve got it!
ETHAN: Yeah! Woo-Hoo! Hey Mommy…I lost my udder quock (translation: other croc)
Any tips? If anyone is still here reading this, I’m desperate!
Bless ya!
It seems like with each child potty training has gotten more difficult. With Mason, I bought “How to Potty Train in a Day,” or whatever that book was called. I followed it’s instructions more or less, and Mason was trained in mere days.
Caroline was a little more difficult, but still basically easy.
Molly, though she was (and is) a bright little spot of sunshine, she just about pushed me over the edge and Michael had to finally barge in and rescue us both.
Now we have Ethan. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
Ethan will go #1 when I take him and make him. This involves setting the kitchen timer for every 30 minutes, which I do. Sigh.
As for the other thing - #2 – not one ounce of success. I have tried and tried and tried, but he just won’t cooperate. In fact, I have had him sit on the potty for 30 minutes or so, only to have him “make his deposit” the minute I put the big boy pants back on.
The other afternoon I just decided that he and I were going to hang out in the bathroom and have fun. We made up songs about the potty, we made up cheers about things one DOES in the potty. It was a party. The time just flew by. I wish I could say that it was effective, but I cannot. I think Ethan’s favorite was: “Push it out! Push it out! Waaaay out! Hey!” Which he, in turn, DID as soon as the Blue’s Clues big-boy pants were back in place.
Ethan even sang it for Michael when he got home from work. Michael wasn’t impressed.
Finally, I decided that the approach to take with Ethan was just to lay it all out there and have an honest heart to heart talk. It went a little something like this:
ME: Ethan, sweetie, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Everyone poops in the potty! Mason does, Caroline does, Molly does, Daddy does…
ETHAN: Pawpaw does?
ME: He sure does!
ETHAN: Aunt Lynne does?
ME: Yes, yes! You’ve got it!
ETHAN: Yeah! Woo-Hoo! Hey Mommy…I lost my udder quock (translation: other croc)
Any tips? If anyone is still here reading this, I’m desperate!
Bless ya!
Life Soundtrack
I totally ripped this off from my friend Julie over at learningtowaltz.blogspot.com . This is just a fun/silly thing that tells you what the soundtrack would be if your life was a movie.
Here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you're cool… and alot of the songs will fit with the setting
Here are mine...
Opening Credits:
I surrender all – amy grant
Waking Up:
in my hiding place – mike lunsford
First Day At School:
great and mighty – caedmon’s call
Falling In Love:
the shadow proves the sunshine - switchfoot
Fight Song:
we all bow down – twila paris
Breaking Up:
god is in control – twila paris
Prom night:
do you love me – andy cloninger
Life:
Jesus whispers – red mountain church, the gadsby project
Mental Breakdown:
the nightshift watchman – david wilcox
Driving:
where the streets have no name – u2 (ha!!)
Flashback:
we have seen your glory – twila paris
Getting back together:
trip through your wires – u2
Wedding:
you’re the only woman - ambrosia (yes... I DO like Ambrosia. No snide comments, please)
Birth of Child:
the world is alive – casting crowns
Final Battle:
spin - david wilcox
Funeral Song:
enter in – twila paris (!)
Final Credits:
now to him – paxson & allison jeancake
Yep, that's 2 minutes of your life you're not getting back!
Bless ya anyhow!
Here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you're cool… and alot of the songs will fit with the setting
Here are mine...
Opening Credits:
I surrender all – amy grant
Waking Up:
in my hiding place – mike lunsford
First Day At School:
great and mighty – caedmon’s call
Falling In Love:
the shadow proves the sunshine - switchfoot
Fight Song:
we all bow down – twila paris
Breaking Up:
god is in control – twila paris
Prom night:
do you love me – andy cloninger
Life:
Jesus whispers – red mountain church, the gadsby project
Mental Breakdown:
the nightshift watchman – david wilcox
Driving:
where the streets have no name – u2 (ha!!)
Flashback:
we have seen your glory – twila paris
Getting back together:
trip through your wires – u2
Wedding:
you’re the only woman - ambrosia (yes... I DO like Ambrosia. No snide comments, please)
Birth of Child:
the world is alive – casting crowns
Final Battle:
spin - david wilcox
Funeral Song:
enter in – twila paris (!)
Final Credits:
now to him – paxson & allison jeancake
Yep, that's 2 minutes of your life you're not getting back!
Bless ya anyhow!
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Ethan...
Ethan has said a couple of really funny things lately, and I wanted to share them.
When your kids are born you just automatically think "Here he/she is...the cutest, smartest, most wonderful child to ever live!" And of course it's true, because it's YOUR child. And we other parents don't mind hearing it from you, because we have also thought/said the same thing.
I think that with Ethan being the baby and everyone so much older than him, we forget the mental capabilities of one so young. For example, if I put a Matchbox car in the shopping cart, he knows it's for him, he wants it then, and he will ask for it when we get home. But for some reason it seems like I ought to be able to load up a cart full of his favorite toys - with him never noticing.
My 40th birthday is just around the corner. Michael has been taking the kids out "running errands" with him a lot lately. Recently after one such excursion, the girls were sitting in the floor of the kitchen and I walked in...
CAROLINE: Mommy, we went shopping for your birthday and we bought you something that you are really going to like! But we're NOT going to tell you what it is!
ETHAN: It's a phone.
CAROLINE: ETHAAAAAN!
OK, fast forward to last night at dinner. We're all sitting around and Caroline brings up the fact that while I do know it's a phone, I don't have any idea what kind of phone it actually is...
ETHAN: It's a Blackberry.
CAROLINE: ETHAAAAAAN!
One more example, then I'm done.
Michael and I have been trying really hard to potty train Ethan. Yes, he's 3, no he's not potty trained. One of the methods that we, as parents, believe in is pure, flat-out bribery. We are telling Ethan that if he learns to go potty like a big boy, we will give him a fire truck!!! Fire truck, fire truck, fire truck...it's all we ever speak of as we wait with bated (baited? I just don't know/care) breath for him to perform the...tasks...we've been trying to teach him.
As Michael was dressing the other day he told me that he bought a T-R-A-C-T-O-R for Ethan instead of the item we had discussed giving him (fire truck!). He spelled it out slowly and carefully for me then Ethan looked up at his dad with those big blue eyes and said, "Daddy, can I have my tractor NOW?"
He makes me laugh.
Bless ya!
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