The Twinkie Incident...Part II (or, the OTHER side of the story)

In case you don't check my brother's blog, here is his side of the story...

"After reading my sisters story about the Twinkie story I see a need to print a rebuttal for the readers. Now please understand this in no way serves as my admission of guilt in any story telling, half truths, or those little white things. This should just serve as a defendants plea.
Now in reading the story it is quite obvious that the author seemed to have little to no remorse at the time of the incident. It is also noted that this behavior was brought about by routine practice. In other words, this wasn't the first time I took one for the team.

Also, I would like to tell you that I serve as an advocate for the underdog. I think that muscle memory caused my inability to be honest for those few.........years. Amy simply capitalized on an opportunity that I provided her.Now the actual incident is very faded in my mind. Not saying that I dont remember it, just saying it is one of many. Maybe it's because I got away with so much that one spanking I didn't deserve was ok with me. I mean after all there were plenty more I should have gotten but avoided because of my skills.

Case in point: "Down the Hatch Family Resturaunt" circa: 1978, Dad's words, "No you may not have another coke until your food gets here". I excused myself headed to the restroom caught up with the waitress and ordered a coke. My plan was for her to deliver it while I was in the rest room, kind of like she had a watchful eye on her customers needs. Dad wouldn't tell her to take it back, and I would have a new coke! She had plenty of time to make the delivery cause I was in the can playing with the hand dryer, then made a stop by the full sized deep sea divers suit. As luck would have it, I beat her to the table. I think her comment upon her arrival was a little something like "Here's your coke you asked for hope you enjoy it".

I noticed the temperature rose a few degree's as BC (Dad) was trying to decide between sudden death or making me wait for it, he chose to make me wait. I knew I had to act fast... We got home and he ordered me to my room to wait on him. When he arrived I had a good cry going, a really good one. I told him I would never do it again and explained how sorry I was. I put on a huge performance, and he bought it. You guessed it, no spanking!!! Needed it but got out of it.

So we can call the Twinkie spanking a trade for the Down the Hatch one I should have gotten. After all, I have actually eaten a whole box of cakes, put the wrappers in the original box, and hid the box in the lawn mower shed until I could safely throw it away. Basically setting up a Jedi mind trick for Momma, "Maybe I didnt buy snack cakes after all".So I guess I should be thankful, after all Amy could have done that whole set up more than once. Believe me, they would have bought it every time."

The Twinkie Incident

Isn't it funny how some memories never leave you? In fact, some memories...well, they stay as fresh as a wrapped Twinkie. Do you remember the Twinkie? Yellow sponge cake surrounding a center of creamy deliciousness that's almost indescribable. 3 puncture holes in the bottom of the cake where the cream was inserted by big machines (I know this becasue I'm a big fan of the "Secret Life of..." Series on the Food Network channel). One very vivid childhood memory centers around this little goodie, and I'd like to share with you MY version of the story...

Mom had been to the grocery store (that was a big event for us as kids - to come home from school and realize that mom had been to the Jewel...and now MY kids love it when they come home and discover I've been to Winn Dixie. By the way - who sits around and comes up with these ridiculous names for grocery stores? Winn Dixie? Piggly Wiggly?). In the pantry sat an unopened box of Twinkies. The instructions were clear: one Twinkie a day. Have it in your lunch; have it after school; have it for breakfast...but you may have ONLY ONE.

The next morning as I toted my lunch pail to the school (I had one of those red ones from tupperware - remember? It had all the little boxes that fit perfectly inside of the bigger red box with a handle around it? Like I said, some memories never leave you...), I thought of the Twinkie that would be waiting for me around 11:30 or so.

Lunch finally came and the Twinkie was relished. I broke it in half long-ways, ran my tongue down the center to scoop out the cream and then ate the cake separately. It was an art, really. The day was complete. Social studies, art, math...it was time to go home.

Back in those days we were "latch key" kids. I literally wore the key to my house attached to a piece of red yarn around my neck. My brother and I got home and turned the TV on (which, for us, was really just one single gesture. Walk in with thumb outstretched...and yell "I get couchcontrol!!!!" before my brother did. This was the goal.) I think Chris got couchcontrol that day...he must have, for the events which transpired next to have occured properly. With his gaze and attention elsewhere, I meandered back to the kitchen - solo - for a snack. I opened the pantry and there - eye level - was the box of Twinkies.

Now, understand...I knew the one Twinkie rule existed, and I can appreciate the need for rules such as that one. But the actions that I took...am I really to be blamed? I mean, the twinkies were at eye level. I was a latch key kid for Pete's sake! (If that doesn't earn me another Twinkie, what does?). And, unfortunately for my brother Christopher, he happened to be going through a "lying" phase. I'm not proud of it, but I used the situation to my advantage. Quietly, I slipped the forbidden second Twinkie out of the box, and secretly ate that one, too.

Well, the damage was done. There was no getting around this one. I could try and rearrange the remaining Twinkies in the box...but there STILL would have been one less than there should have been. And make no mistake: Tennie (my momma) would come home and count.

I holed up in my room for a while. Waiting. I think I even gave it a good straightening up as well. I figured anything might help. When Tennie came home, I heard her in the kitchen and then climbing the stairs to my room.

"Who ate two Twinkies?" She demanded.

Now, when faced with a question like this and certain wrath, what can a 9 or 10 year old do, but give the only answer possible:

"Chris".

I'm not proud of it, folks, but I did it. I lied. I bold-faced lied to my mom, and worse? She believed me. Chris got a spanking.

Years later I told my parents...but the damage was done. He loves me now, but Chris battled bitter demons for many years as a result of the "Twinkie story". I told my kids the story a couple years ago as an example of what NOT to do...but they think it's just such a great story and ask to hear it at all hours of the day. Over and over and over again. Maybe they can't believe their mom would have done such a thing.

So, little brother, I'm sorry. I owe you. I owe you so much. Apologies, deep, deep personal sorrowful regret...and all the Twinkies you can eat.

Bless ya!

Super Tuesday Fast Approaches!

Super Tuesday! Presidential Candidates! Debate! Vote! Civic Duty!

Let me go ahead and say that I'm tired, in a weird mood, and this will make no sense...

I think we should all vote for...me.

Now, before you laugh, let me tell you why. Sure, I have no political experience. But, how much do you need, really? I mean, I meet the age requirement, and I was born in the United States. So, pardon me, but I believe that means I qualify.

Let me tell you about the biggest campaign trick I would employ: I wouldn't bash any other candidates. Instead, I would do the opposite and build them up: "Thank you Mr. Lehrer, for that intriguing question. And before I comment on my stance on troops in Iraq, I'd like to tell Senator Clinton that her blouse is lovely, those peep-toe wedges are too cute, and her haircut makes her look like Bill's daughter instead of his wife."

Pretty good, huh?

You have to admit, a non-bashing campaign would make people take notice! Why don't candidates adopt this policy???

I will be voting, of course, on Super Tuesday. You should, too.

Bless ya!

Kids Say the Darndest Things...

One of the highlights of my day is always our family devotional time in the evenings. Once the dishes are done, things are picked up and everyone has still raisin-y hands from the bath/shower, we sit together on the couch and talk about God. Michael usually reads to us from Scripture, or a Scripture-themed book, we go about memorizing the children's Catechism, and we have prayer all together. It really is precious. One reason I love it, is because the kids are just so stinkin' FUNNY sometimes.

For example...

One night recently we had been talking about Solomon - how instead of asking for riches , he asked for wisdom, and then God gave him both and more. So, we had a little talk about what we might have asked for, had we been in Solomon's shoes. I couldn't wait to hear the godly and profound answers our little disciples were about to give!

Molly - I would ask for God to turn our house into Disneyworld!
Caroline - I would ask for all the American Girl dolls (she has none at present!).
Mason - A dirt bike.

And another example...

We have been going through the Catechsim questions regarding the Lord's prayer. Now, for those of you who don't know (or care) what the catechism is, it's like a statement of faith in question and answer form: Q-Who wrote the Bible? A-Chosen men inspired by the Holy Spirit, and so on and so forth. Anyhoo, Molly's turn came up and her question was, "What does it mean to pray 'And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors'?". The real answer to the question begins "We are asking God to forgive our sins for Christ's sake...", but instead, Molly's reply was "We are asking God to forgive our sins for Pete's sake..."

We keep a board on our refrigerator - it's a dry erase board, and every time one of the kids says something that's just a "nugget" we've got to keep, we write it on the board. Then, when the next one comes along, we take a picture of the old one (thus allowing it to live on in our memories as well as in our photo album), erase it, and make way for the new one. Over the years we've had some real doozies. Of course we laugh. Who wouldn't? They say these cute things because they aren't (yet) tainted by the self-stifling that comes with age, legalism and approval-sucking. What I wouldn't give for a heart that speaks, that asks questions or blesses others without regard for what they will think of me. Too many times I weigh my words for the effect first, before I say them. How can I say this or ask this so that I don't sound too stupid? Or too needy? Or like maybe I think you've got it together more than I do? Or maybe I just don't even consider asking at all, because then that might make you think...I don't know, maybe it will make you think something I don't want you to think about me, so I will just protect myself and, as my brother says, "SHUTTY!"

Lately I've been just sort of meditating on what it means to boast in my weaknesses. Really, the only thing good about me or in me is because of Christ. I have no strength on my own, no zeal, no ounce of godliness, and certainly no class. I guess certain screwy people could turn that all into false humility...but why? I mean, it's true, isn't it? The only thing I can boast in (boast: to speak with excessive pride; brag) is what I most want to hide. Hmmm...talk about your upside-down kingdom.

Oh, out of the mouths of babes...

Bless ya!

Just a Run of the Mill Weekend...

It all started with, "Mom, I don't feel so good..."

Let me back up a bit. Mason had a spend-the-night date with his friend Nathan, over at Nathan's house. Caroline had her friend Caroline G. coming over to our house to spend the night. Corn popped and movie in (for the girls), I nestled onto the living room couch by 7pm with my hubby and my book. I never get to start reading that early in th evening.

By 11:30 pm that night Molly was on the couch crying, Cinderella trash basket in front of her, just waiting for it all to drop. I watched her for a couple hours...tried to sleep on the other couch to no avail. By 6am most everyone else was up and I hadn't slept a wink. A little after 6am, I told Michael I was headed off to bed. I gave Molly a little water and some tylenol before I left (she had a pretty good fever). Bad idea. By 6:30 she had started (and I was already into REM sleep).

Next morning, Molly, Ethan and I stayed home from church. After lunch Caroline looked at me and asked, "Mom, will you take my temperature?" 101.1 degrees. Oh, yes.

Caroline stayed home from church Sunday night with Ethan and I, though I let Molly go. Monday morning at 4:19am, Caroline comes into the room, burning up and complaining of a hurting stomach. We move to the couch. Everyone is up by 6:20 or so and Mason is complaining about not feeling well either, but has no fever. I finally decide that Mason and Molly will go to school, but Caroline will stay home. I drop off the 2 M's and head to Winn Dixie, where the seafood department doesn't open until 9am. I did not know that. Why would they not open until 9am??

Anyhoo, as I'm shopping around my phone rings. Michael calls and tells me that it has started at home. "Oh, poor Caroline!" I say. But no - it's not Caroline, it's ETHAN! I decide right then and there that I'm going to go pick up Mason from school (to keep the kids in his class safe). By the time I get home, Ethan is asleep and I find Michael just finishing up with Caroline's "turn".

So, all 4 children are home today.

And guess what? I didn't have to clean up vomit once!

My husband is Superman!!

Bless ya!

1000 Words

This picture was taken at Moe's in Birmingham while we were there after Christmas. Ethan just decided to pull his pants down. A big thank you to Jeff Cwynar for capturing the real Ethan MacCaughelty. He's complex, doggone it!

Oh! And it was about 15 degrees that day...

Lovely.

Dolls, Dumbo, and Dogs

It's Friday morning. I've still not taken a shower or anything, but I feel like writing.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas/New Year. We had a great time with each other - the kids had fun, we ate a lot, etc.

This year for Christmas, Molly received (from me and Michael) a talking-Barbie as the Island Princess-karaoke-microphone-styling head. This doll is supposed to talk to you, talk to the animals sitting around her head, sing, and let you speak into a micrphone attached to her shoulder. If she could have read books also, well...I don't think Molly would even have needed me anymore. Anyway, after 30 minutes of freeing the doll from her packaging, we realized that talking head Barbie doesn't work. She sings parts of a couple songs, but the microphone doesn't work, nor does she talk to her animal friends.

I bought the Barbie head at Toys R Us in Mobile...a 1 1/2 hour drive from here. So, "taking it back tomorrow" isn't going to happen. But, thankfully we were going to be driving to Birmingham the 28th, so we decided to take Barbie head along with us and return it there.

Let me set the scene for you...

First, as Michael pulls up into the parking lot of Toys R Us, Molly quickly spots 2 large, unleashed, very wet dogs lying IN the entrance to the store. I have to practically drag Molly out of the car, after promising her that we will go in a different entrance. So, we move to the side entrance, but both dogs follow us. I walk up to the return counter and Molly starts screaming. The dogs are coming straight for us. I lift Molly and put her on the counter. The dogs pass by and begin wandering the store. During all this, I am continuing to wait at the return counter and no one is coming. Finally a woman sees us and tells us that all return have to be made around the side and in through the outside entrance...right where the dogs are being taken. I walk around to the side of the store, where I am easily the 5th person in line, and I have to stand outside with the dogs, who are going in and out of the store. Molly is still screaming, so I set her inside a broken "Dumbo" ride to wait it out.

20 minutes or so later it is my turn. I explain the deal to the cashier - the toy doesn't work, etc. I tell her that I really just want to exchange it and get a new one that works. She sends me to the Barbie section, where I see that the Barbie head is now $15 less than what I originally paid. When I get back to the counter, the 10-year-old cashier tells me that, no, I cannot have it at the reduced price. I beg...I plead...to no avail. Finally, I explain to her that since I have my receipt, what in the world is to stop me from just getting my money back and repurchasing the Barbie head at the new price? This stumps her...she cannot comprehend my cleverness. Her quick retort is "well, if you want to do that, you'll have to go pay for it at another register". Small price to pay, sweetie, for $15. She can't appreciate my cheapness. Few can.

So, Molly still hanging out with out-of-order Dumbo, I make my way to the cashier with a handfull of bills.

Finally, we were on our way - errand done. We spent the evening with family and then headed back to Aunt Lynne and Uncle Roger's house (dear friends we stayed with in B'ham). I promised Molly that the next morning we would unleash the new Barbie head from it's cardboard prison and put her to work. The next morning I made good on my promise.

And this one didn't work either.

My friend Lynne asked me about the name of my blog. Why crayons in the dryer? Because, I told her, it is situations like these that God uses in my life to show me how much I need him. Much of my life, though mildly funny, is lived in the mundane details. I live in a small town, I don't go anywhere, I have a gaggle of kids and a husband who, I'm sorry, could give me enough fodder for this blog by himself (love you, sweetheart!!!). Ever had crayons in your dryer? They turn everything in there red...or green. At least, those are the two colors that have happened to me. When it happens you just have to laugh at life. Maybe some of it you can get out, but there may be some red (or green) spots on your socks that you get to revisit from time to time. Kind of like one of those stake-in-the-ground moments. THIS is where God has worked in my life and heart. THIS is where He is working now.

Bless ya,
Amy

PS - While we were in Birmingham, Michael bought a Life is Good T-shirt that has a picture of a glass with water in it and under it it says "Half Full". Isn't that awesome?

Eleven

Eleven is the answer to the question. Can you guess what the question is? Is it:


A. How many spankings did you give Ethan today for touching the Christmas tree?

B. How many loads of laundry did you wash, fold and put away?

C. How many Hershey’s kisses did you eat while no one was looking?

Or

D. How many times did you have to tell the kids, “Don’t lick your fingers while we decorate Christmas cookies!”

All of the above scenarios DID occur in my day, but if you guessed B, you are correct!

Bless ya!

Sunday morning blues...

As a pastor's wife, I spend Sunday mornings alone. Well, not alone exactly..alone with my 4 children (Michael is usually at the church by 6am). I get them breakfast, get them all dressed in their finest for church, and get them there pretty close to on time. But sometimes the condition of my heart once that all happens is, well...let's just say it's less than worshipful.

It's Sunday. It's the only opportunity I get to corporately worship with my church body - who are very dear. I look forward to it, and miss it so badly when one of the kids is sick. So why, on a day when everyone is healthy and all will be in attendance, do I struggle so much with my attitude?

Maybe it's because of all the rushing around I do on this particular day. On school days I only need to grab uniforms out of the closet, and Ethan and I take the big kids to school in our jammies. Just this past Sunday morning I was in the shower when Caroline knocked on the door.

"Mom!" she said.

"Yes!" I replied.

"I need you to fix my hair!"

"I will!"

"When?"

"When I get out of the shower, Caroline!"

"Do these socks look ok with what I'm wearing?"

"Well, I can't see you...again, I'm in the shower!"

(let me interject here and explain that I make it a rule to ALWAYS lock the bathroom door when I'm in there. Now, you may say "What if one of your children needs you?", or "We teach our children that we don't lock doors in our house!". To you I say congratulations...and get your own blog. You name the day and I will bring my sweet children to your house so you can take a shower (or do anything ELSE in the bathroom for that matter!!) with 4 others in the room with you. They open the curtain, they flush the toilet, they want to play with my make up (only the girls), they...ummm..."critique" me. Good times.)

This past Tuesday at our morning "circle" meeting, a questions was posed: How do you prepare yourself for worship?

My quick-wit answer was "get the kids dressed Saturday night". It got a bit of a laugh, but it wasn't really funny. There's nothing funny about showing up to worship in the same frame of mind as having just left Wal-mart on a Saturday (every time, I tell you...every time. And I hope that statement is in some way picturesque).

Michael prepares for Sunday all week. Now, he is a pastor, so that much can be assumed. But what I mean is that he prepares himself for worship. He takes pains to go to bed early, get up early, keep his mind uncluttered and not too busy on Saturday evenings. Not that he is immune from the distractions that inevitably come up, but he is purposeful about preparation.

What if I did that? What if I got up earlier, leaving plenty of time for the girls to have a couple costume changes, plenty of time for a decent breakfast, plenty of time to find them (girls) tights that fit, plenty of time to break up an argument over who gets to choose the bible story video next, plenty of time to..I don't know...maybe pray? I do have an enemy, and he wants me to have crummy Sunday mornings each and every week. He wants me to be distracted, discouraged and disgusted by the time I get to Sunday School. It's a battle! And you know what? I'll bet you have faced it, too.

Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm going to ask the Father to change me.

Bless ya!

A Fond Affection

When I was in college I met this great gal named Julie. We had mutual friends who introduced us (Sandy and Sonya) and realized quickly that we both had the same silly sense of humor. We were really dumb acting in college. I remember several times we went to the mall and walked around speaking in our best Boston accents. We went to Chicago together with our friends Becky and Terry (Becky is my knoll-rolling friend. She's one of a kind), went went to Gatlinburg many times; Amelia Island; Panama City; Jackson, Mississippi to do a "Disciple Now" (and see Bryan Duncan in concert...wow, Julie, that dates us!!); Atlanta; New Orleans (she and Terry took me there before I got married). After I became I Christian, I literally looked up and there she was - the first one to take an interest in my spiritual growth (she discipled me for 2 years). We were roommates in and after college. The time I cried the hardest in my life - she was there. When I had my babies - she was one of the first ones to hold them. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding. We have some pretty good disagreements, too, but we always have worked it out (if you don't have disgreements with your friends from time to time, I would question if you're really friends!). Every time I go to Birmingham she makes time for me over chips, salsa and margaritas at Pablo's. She always listens to my junk. And I always have so much fun with her...even if it's just walking around Target (actually, since Target is just so knee-slapping fun, I'm sure THAT'S not hard for you to believe!). I may go months without speaking to her (though, whenever I hear a good song on the radio, I always call her voice mail and let her hear it, too), but when we do finally talk, it's just like we talked yesterday. I love her so much!

Julie is SO special to me. Her blog, A Fond Affection, is excellent...and what a great name! I wish I had thought of it for my blog. Please visit her.

Bless ya!

Help! I'm Addicted!

Looking for a good way to waste time?

Check this out...Escape Games 24 - Room Escape Games, Point and Click Games, Puzzle Games, Adventure Games, Casual Games, Walkthroughs and Free Games Download

If you've never done an escape the room game, you are in for a treat. Basically, you are locked in a room and you have to pick up clues to figure out how to escape.

Good times.


This is one of my favorites...http://www.escapegames24.com/2007/12/luca-house-in-christmas-eve-escaping.html




Bless ya!

Taking the yearly Christmas picture is always something I face with mixed feelings. First of all, when I look at those babies from behind the camera lens, I am remembering that another year has passed. Another 365 days closer to them leaving for college. Have I made the year count? On the other hand, I'm also thinking, "why won't Molly look at the camera?", "Is that a kool-aid mustache on Mason's face?", "Ethan, put your hands down!", and "Caroline, try and do something about the kool-aid mustache on Mason's face."

So, this year while at the beach over Thanksgiving, I decided that instead of being all general-like about the picture taking process, I was just going to be breezy. You know, get the picture or not - I'm good. We headed to the beach and began snapping. Being breezy was a smart move. I noticed that my mood (and subsequent actions) really do have a tremendous influence on my family. And I'm not saying I was "putting on" on just trying to act phlegmatic or anything...I just really wanted it to be easy for everyone and asked God to help me be an agent to make that happen. God said yes, and I learned something.

By all accounts, I am a "glass is half empty" kind of girl. (A side note...Michael is a "glass is half full" kind of guy. In fact, he's probably more along the lines of "look at that beautiful glass! And look at all that stuff in it! That has to be one of the BEST glasses ever made!! Life is so much more AWESOME just knowing glasses like this exist!!!" Am I clear? Part of my "melancholy-ness" is how God made me, and part of it just needs redemption. I really want God to change me and make me more like my sweet husband...more like Jesus. Looking only at the negative things in life take people's (and MY!!) focus off Jesus who gives me all things from His hand and intends them for my good.

Need some evidence? Just check out this sweet shot I got...



Bless ya! And Merry Christmas!!

Baby "Think it Over"

I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Christopher.

If you don't know him, you're missing out, really. This is an e-mail he wrote about his daughter, Taylor. I think you'll enjoy it...


"This weekend we had a new edition at the Carden house. "Baby Think It Over" is a life-like full sized infant doll that 8th grade students are assigned to take home over a weekend. Now, remember this is not a toy (http://www.education-world.com/a_curr/curr077.shtml) this is a life-sized infant simulator. It cries when it needs attention and the student has a key locked on his or her wrist. The key is inserted in the infants back and held in position for random intervals. It may take 2 minutes to calm the baby or it may take hours, it's completely random. The students are required to keep a log of how the baby's fits affect them, their personal time, and people around them.

Taylor spent the night with a friend last night, so I didn't have my new grandbaby here at the house. I went to pick them up this afternoon and the vision of my thirteen year old daughter walking towards the car with an infant car seat hit me hard. It was like, where did the time go? I was interested in this experiment but, wanted to try and remain professional and limit my questions. I was real excited when Tay finally asked me if I wanted to hear it cry. I said "yes" so she held it upside down until it cried then she flipped it back over. You have to hold this robot correctly or it will be reported during the "download" in school on Monday. I could tell Tay was excited, and I enjoyed seeing her enthusiasm, but I think what actually happened is something that was completly unintended..."PawPaw think it over".

We were in Walgreens and this little gigabyte started to cry. Now Taylor was quick to deploy the key to calm the little guy and seemed unaffected. I however began to scan the isles to see who was watching, listening. I almost began to panic...will it stop before anyone notices??? With the skill of a computer tech/Mother, Tay quickly silenced the stepford baby and order was restored. I was so relieved...we had avoided being starred at. Once at the register I saw an elderly woman watching, trying to figure out what was going on. Tay noticed her to and seemed almost embarrased.

I was very proud of my little girl, she done good. Truth be told, I learned a lesson during that "Pawpaw think it over" senerio.

How nice would it be if we all had key slots in our backs. If your husband started acting ugly, if your wife started giving you down the road, you could just put the key in the slot and instantly calm the situation. There would only be the beginning of fights in marriages, no endings. You could also use them on your little kids while in the grocery line, or in the resturaunt. One key fits all, you could use them on other peoples kids too. Whenever some parent started that "One, Two..." you could put your key in them!

Well Pawpaw think it over has been a good experience. I don't want to grow up; I don't want to grow old. My hair is already turning grey, and I am transforming into a dangerous mixture of Butch and Hubert (Dad & Papa). I am tired of being old before my time, staying ill all the time, and taking everything to seriously. I want to have grandchildren, but more importantly, I want them to want to come see me!!! I want to watch Taylor and Elizabeth grow up and have babies, lots of babies! I'm just in no hurry for that day to come. So I say thank you 8th grade! You have taught me alot...and you have slowed me down.

Chris M. Carden"

This, Too, Shall Pass

That's what I keep telling myself. That's what older, wiser, saner moms tell me.

My sweet friend Christine and her husband GEF gave us their lovely beach house in Destin, FL, for Thanksgiving. We left M'ville on Wednesday afternoon. We arrived in Destin, but before going to the house, I dropped the fam off at Moe's (welcome to Moe's!) and ran next door to Publix to buy the cold stuff (no room in our van for a cooler).

Anyhoo, after a near physical altercation at the dairy case (you know how the grocery store the day before T'giving is!), I made it to the check out, Mojo chicken in hand (that's pronounced "mo-ho" for my non-publix going friends. I know this because I learned the hard way, after asking the Publix deli lady if the "mo-joe" chicken was good. I assumed she thought it was good enough for me, the non-cultured).

Thursday lunch we had a feast of sweet potato casserole (spuds from our own garden), roasted asparagus, my mom's dressing, and Michael's mom's mac-n-cheese, plus little mr. mo-joe. We ate Thanksgiving stuff for every meal on Thursday and Friday. My kids never want to see another bite of sweet spuds or a macaroni noodle ever again.

Thursday night Ethan woke up - again - sick. Deep cough, fever, you know the routine. My kids are sick more than any other kids I know. Why do you think that is? I'm not being rhetorical, here...I really want some comments on that...

He got sicker and sicker until we got him an antibiotic on Monday. Now, Molly is sick with the same thing, missed school today, and also has an antibiotic.

If you had stopped by my house today you would have caught me in my jammie pants and a sweatshirt. The clothes that I put into the washer yesterday are still there. I gave Molly her medicine tonight - one dose of a five day regimen - and she spit it all over me...one ENTIRE day on my red apron. I haven't been to church in 2 weeks. I just remembered that I have forgotten to make my kids lunches for tomorrow (it's now 11:35pm)...and I think lunch is soup, which they will hate. I need a haircut. Tonight I put my kids into bed at 6:50pm, and set Mason's clock ahead so he wouldn't know how early it was.

(I'm laughing right now)

So, this too shall pass. You know, even though things seem sometimes so out of control, I have it so good. I have everything I need. I have a husband who loves and cherishes me, great kids, a good relationship with my brother and father, friends, a home I love, health...I could go on and on. There will soon come a day when I won't have these kids at home keeping me busy, and calling my name every 10 seconds. There will soon come a day when people won't give me the grace they give me now when I DO stay in my jammies all day or go too long between haircuts or miss church to be with sick children. So you know what? This isn't so bad at all. Every good and perfect gift is from the Father above. So, for now, I pray for contentment in the mundane. I suppose I need to be asking the Father to help me serve him and worship him where I am and in what I'm doing, even if it seems unimportant, unorganized, inconsistent or redundant.

Suddenly I'm in the mood to hold my kids really tight, make some cookie dough, put on my jammie pants and watch "Finding Nemo" again. If that were the only thing I got done tomorrow, would it really be so bad?

Bless ya!

Thoughts on Throats and Throw-up

This past Friday we took our family to Lovely Isaac Creek for a camping trip. We were joined by our friends, the Lawrences (hi, guys!). I was a bit nervous about taking Ethan (almost 2) on his first camping trip - afraid he'd get cold at night, afraid he'd get bitten by something, afraid he'd get lost. You get the idea (by the way...be sure to check out my upcoming blog all about fear!). Well, the trip went off without a hitch. Without a hitch, I tell you!!

Then, Saturday night, after camping, sleeping (???) on the ground, and one tylenol PM later, as I was about to be nestled into my nice warm bed, Ethan started crying.

Michael went to pick him up and...Bluggghh...vomit!

I have a "defcon vomit mode" I fly into whenever one of the kids is sick. Isolate the child, strip the child, bathe the child, throw all the soiled items onto the washing machine, repeat as necessary. I started the process at once and lost track of how many times it was carried out.

Much later in the night Mason awoke crying and swollen-throated. I got the flashlight and looked. To my laywoman's eye, I think we are dealing with strep throat. (Today his temperature has been lingering around 102. Tomorrow is the Veteran's Day holiday...I hope the doctor's office is open!!!)

After I had Mason fixed up and back in bed, I was sitting with Ethan on the couch, holding him, patting his back, and ruing the moment I had chosen to take a tylenol PM. Sometimes children are so much work, and sometimes it's heartbreaking, but if Ethan, or any of my children needed me to, I would hold them all night. Many nights in a row. I would go without sleep, or anything at all. I would do anything for them. I was reflecting on these things and a warm feeling spread over me.

It was vomit.


After the defcon vomit routine, I got Ethan settled in a pallet next to the couch, and finally was able to close my eyes for a few minutes. I made it into my bed about 5:15am, just to close my eyes for a minute while Michael finished his shower. I knew he'd need a shirt ironed.

I woke at 7:30am. My precious husband gave his sermon in a wrinkled shirt.

Sometimes we just have to laugh at life. And thank God for laughter...!

Wish I could stuff it...

Ever said something you wish you hadn't?

Well guess what? I have. The most recent event was this past Sunday when we had several couples from church over for lunch...officer candidates, no less.

Now, I'm not going to get into the dynamics of what I said or how I said it - what I said...it was just plain wrong. Michael did a children's sermon recently where he asked one of the kids to squeeze all the toothpaste she could out of the tube and onto a paper plate. Then, after telling her she did a great job with that, he asked her to put all the toothpaste back into the tube. The point was...it's the same with the words we say. Once they are out there, you can't put them back. No matter how much I try to go behind myself and "clean up shop". No can do.

So, answer me this. Why is it that sometimes I feel like I physically HAVE to get those words out of me? I've thought about it and thought about it, and it all comes down to the same thing every other sin comes down to...unbelief. If I was really believing that I was a beloved daughter of my heavenly Father, I wouldn't need to make questionable remarks. I wouldn't need to be sure I got my opinion out there because I am accepted, no matter what others think of me.

Will I ever learn? While you ponder on that answer, I'll be down in front listening to the children's sermon.

Bless ya'!

Lessons from the Library

Last Saturday, as I was ripping through Mason's room, I came across 2 shamefully late library books.

I believe these books were checked out sometime in July. Unfortunately, the discovery of these forgotten books came AFTER I had already sworn, on principle, never to check out another book from our local library again. Why, you ask? I'll tell you.

The last few times I have checked things out (which we do quite a bit in the summer), when I would go to the check out desk, they would tell me that the books I returned 2 weeks ago were still out and that I had fines to pay. Now, I'm not always on time with my returns, but I do TRY to be, and if I KNOW I have returned a book, I am going to say so. I will say that we live in a small town, with a smallish library. They do the best they can with what they have, and I'm just thankful we have one. Anyway, the last time I went in there to return books the lady at the desk told me I had 2 books still out...a "Hardy Boys" and a "Choose your own Adventure".

I vehemently denied being in possession of these two books. I demanded they be removed from my record and I vowed silently then and there to never cross the threshold of the library again.

So, when I found "Hardy Boys" and "Choose your own Adventure" at the bottom of the toy box, to say I was dismayed would be an understatement.

I sat the books on the kitchen counter and just watched them for a few days. I considered my options. My first thought was that I would try and sneak the books into the book return without anyone knowing and then just never go in there to pay the fine. Or, maybe I could just go by and place the books outside the door once they had closed (we don't have an after-hours depository). I even considered just keeping the books and never saying a word about it...but if you think that could be done, you haven't met my husband. No...I was going to have to face this one head on.

It was errand day. I had my pile of stuff to drop off and do, and on top of the pile were those two library books. Laughing at me. Michael came home for lunch and I sweetly asked him if he would consider returning the books for me, but he told me no..."I think God wants YOU to do this".

SO, after praying up...with checkbook in hand and Ethan on hip, I made my way into the library ready to pay my $.25/day late fee per book (nope, that's not a typo...I figured by now my late fees for these two books would be somewhere around $15-$25. I placed the books gingerly upon the counter and made my confession. I was prepared for them to tell me I had 8 more books missing. I was prepared for them to tell me I owed $100. I was prepared for them to bar me from the library for life. I think I was prepared for almost anything, except for what actually happened...

"Ma'am, there are no outstanding books on your card...we really appreciate your bringing these books back to us...there's no fine..."

Now, isn't God funny? And trust me...I know this story is no big deal in the whole grand scheme of life, but I laugh when God surprises me. In a way, He's sort of like the library, but different. He doesn't forget about my debt on accident, there's no computer glitch or erasure because I make a fuss...he purposefully pays what I owe. And when I think about that sacrifice...His love...His grace towards me...THAT makes me want to be a better patron. That makes me want to obey him. And like God forgives my debt, so did the sweet librarian, and that makes me want to be a better book borrower.

So, maybe I jumped the gun. Maybe my library, as small as it is, isn't so bad. So they have computer issues and don't always check my books back in when I return them! Maybe I WILL go back in there after all.

And just so you know...I wrote them a check for my late fee anyway. I figure they can put it into the "new computer system" fund...

Bless ya,
Amy

Scene It?

This past Friday night Michael came home with a brand new board game for us to play. It’s called “Scene It Disney”. Basically, it’s like trivial pursuit but with a cd option and all Disney questions. The kids were so excited, I popped corn, and our evening of family fun began.

We quickly discovered that, even though we are self-proclaimed Disney aficionados, the questions are not always easy. Also, even though I do have tons of Disney movies, the sheer number of titles in existence is astounding. Some of the movies I had never even heard of.

Our air of “family fun” went downhill rather quickly. People started whining, accusing, not returning the card to the bottom of the pile. Then the kids even started in. It was utter chaos. Now, I am competitive. I don’t care if you’re 5…I will hunt you down. I will dominate. So, when mom got close to winning, I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties and give the kids an opportunity to step it up. Finally, all were within range of winning the game. Then something happened.

Molly is my time bomb. She will go, and go, and go, and go, until…she blows. I think the stress of wanting to win coupled with the hard fact that she just wasn’t the best at the game, began to catch up with her. She cried. She cried and cried. She cried so much that she couldn’t even watch the screen anymore. She finally just ended up in her room, facedown on the bed yelling, “I wanted to win!”.

That’s my girl.

It seems like my sweet children have all inherited my sin patterns. Honestly, I want to win. I want to be the best. God has recently been dealing with me in the area of pride…again. Can I tell you this? I REALLY want to be a humble person! I really want to put others before myself and consider them more than I consider myself. Somewhere inside me I want those things. But I’m prideful (and don’t worry…you are too – wink, wink). The truly humble people I know are the people that I love to be around. Tracy Whitner, Michelle Lawrence, Weezie Green. You women give me hope.

After Molly’s crying jag, I went into her room, read a book, rubbed her back, told her how much I love her, and how proud I was of her for trying a game she was really too little to play anyway. Later, I thought about how much I fail at so many things, but Jesus makes it better. I put myself out there (just like Molly did) to play and end up fouling it up with my words, or my attitude, or my crying “I want to win!”. Then when I’m done wallowing in the mess, I (hopefully) remember that Jesus loves me. He delights in me. He rejoices over me. And I am helped.

This morning, Molly asked, “Mommy, what did you do with that game we played last night?” I jokingly replied, “I threw it away.”

“Good!” she said.

You "do" the math...

Me: Hi, Molly...whatcha doin'?

Molly: I just went to the bathroom. Guess what, mom...I had to go #3.

(at this point Michael and I steel a look at one another)

Me: Oh, baby, are you feeling bad?

Molly: No, mom...#3 is #1 AND #2.

Occupation???

Ethan and me...

I was just noticing on my "user profile" that I have the option to select my occupation. So, I looked through the list.

Hmmm...accounting? Check. I input our family's finances into Microsoft Money every week, make out a detailed year-to-date budget, make bank runs, help with budget decisions. Yes. I am in accounting. I'll pick that.

But wait...

"Arts". Well, I am a pretty good colorer. I almost always stay in the lines (but don't worry I ALWAYS tell my kids that staying in the lines absolutely doesn't matter!!), keep a goodly stock of fresh paper on hand, markers that work, glue, stickers, you name it. Though, I hate play-doh. Can I say that on-line? Ok...I'll choose arts.

Oh! Construction! Yes, that's it! I can stack blocks at least 16 or 17 high. Of course, then Ethan just knocks them down. Well, when he gets old enough to have his own blog, he can choose "demolition" or something like that. Right now this is about me...

Consulting? Yes. Education? Definitely. Government? Uh-huh. Fashion? Umm, now that one I can safely disqualify myself from.

What about Human Resources? Law? Military (sometimes that feels right on)? Religion? Sports? I mean, how many soccer, basketball, t-ball games have I been to?

My point, and I do have one, is that there should be a wife/mom option on that list. I am a college educated stay-at-home mom. There should at least be and "all the above" option. Don't you think?

Soapbox away.

Last night as I was lying in bed I started thinking about something. Roaches. I live in South Alabama, and the roaches here are pretty amazing. They are big, they are quick, and they are tough. Oh, and they are everywhere. Last week I had a group of ladies here for a Bible study and we had to call Michael into the room to kill one - and I wasn't even embarrassed! Roaches are the most disgusting things there are, but you gotta give them this: they're tenacious. I mean, the little suckers never stop! Even though their relatives are being killed by the dozens in my living room, they still want in. Is there something I can learn from the humble roach? Maybe not...but as I lay there I couldn't help but think about how I'd like to be more tenacious. I'd like to be a woman who goes after what she wants without fear or anything inhibiting me.

Take this blog, for example. I still haven't put it out there for consumption. What am I afraid of? People will laugh at me (swat)? People won't think I'm witty (swat)? People will judge me for having time to write this blog, but not enough time to get my laundry done (swat, swat)? And there are countless other instances where I maybe "stay in the fireplace" (like some of the roaches in my house do), instead of going out into the room. Food for thought...if you're still hungry.

Love ya! And here are the kids on their first day of school!!