Beck's Three

Moving the goal post

2012-01-20T21:31:00.003-05:00

I know. It's been over a month since I last posted. I used to write three or four blog posts a week. I used to know how many hits my blog received each day and how many followers I had.

Now, not so much.

See that picture of my kids at the top of the page? It's from almost three years ago. I would change it, but the truth is, I don't even remember how I created that header in the first place.

In the past I would have considered this a failure. Now? I've moved the goal post. I can't make it 100 yards. I can try, but I will fail. So I move the goal post closer. Fifty yards? That may be too far still. I think I'll put it at the 30 yard line, and if I pass it, all the better.

It's not just in blogging; I've moved the goal posts on pretty much every field. Work. Housekeeping. Parenting.

For example, a former goal may have looked something like this: We will have a fun and exciting family game night wherein we will all love being together and during which my children will realize how lucky they are to have each other.

My new goal: We will have a family game night, and no one will die.

Former goal: Keep a clean house with a place for everything and everything in its place.

New goal: Keep the kitchen clean and never use the same bathroom my sons use.

Former goal: Do several loads of laundry each day so it doesn't pile up. Have children help fold and put away all of their own clothes.

New goal: Find two socks of the same size for each person every morning. Matching not required. Cleanliness merely preferred.

Former goal: Cook healthy meals for my family every night, preferably assisted by sweet little hands that can reach the counter only by using a step-stool. Lovingly watch my adorable offspring pour and stir and mix.

New goal: We will not eat pizza every night. My children are allowed back in the kitchen when they turn fifteen.

Former goal: I will read to or with my children every night, and they will develop a lifelong love of reading just like I did as a kid.

New goal: Ask them to recite the alphabet from time to time to make sure they haven't forgotten it.

See? It's all about setting attainable goals. Now excuse me while I go see if those socks my kids threw in the general directi0n of their clothes hamper are really all that dirty.

Loving her

2011-12-15T22:00:00.004-05:00

There is little obvious to love about her. Her hair is unkempt, her teeth visibly rotten, her shoulders hunched, and her language often foul. This is what I used to see when I looked at her.

What, I wonder, is there that's obvious to love about me? I imagine myself at my worst. Hair unwashed, breath in need of improvement, pajamas with holes and stains in them, and no makeup on the blemished and wrinkled skin of my face. Not much to look at.

Maybe that's not where the value lies. If I look deeper at her, the other girl, beyond the physical appearance, what do I see? Poor choices. A history of drug and alcohol use. One child taken away by social services years ago, another in her care struggling, lagging far behind his peers. An abusive husband. Public assistance.

What if I look deeper at myself? I must look pretty good. My children may wear wrinkled clothes, but I'm in no danger of being declared unfit. I've never been addicted to a substance, and I chose wisely when saying "I do."

But, is that what's really there? I may look good on paper, but if the invisible deeds of the heart were brought to light, I know what you would see. What He can see. Selfishness, laziness, pride, deceit, obstinance, vanity. If you were a fly on my walls, you would see me speak too harshly to my children, put my own desires above those of my husband, lack gratitude, and be overly critical.

Really, what is there to love about me? I dare say not much more than there is to love about her.

I've prayed for the past year or two for God teach me how to love. He has been teaching me that He is love. Given that He said those exact words in the scripture, this should not be a revelation, but it has been. God is love. God elevated two commandments above all others: love Him and love each other. So what, He asks, if you love those who are nice and clean and smart and educated like you? Even the sinners do that.

Through praying, studying, and even reading a particular blog**, He began to make me understand that if I want to experience God more, I need to love more. That's where He can be found.

And that's where she comes in. About a year ago God told me to love her. Not just to tolerate her or be nice to her. To love her. It's taken many forms over the past year from providing transportation since she has no car, to inviting her and her son to come over and play with our dog, to helping her with groceries. I've talked to her about God, and she's made it clear that she does not believe. She does not care for God or Christians or anything about the church. That's okay, I told her; God loves her anyway.

A few days ago she was at my house needing help again. To her credit, she filed for divorce and got a protective order against her abusive husband. But now she couldn't pay her rent, and she was about to be evicted. She was told that day that the check she received from SSI the week before, a mere $350, was all she would receive for the entire month. There would be no second check. She was expecting a second check. Unable to pay the rent or buy any Christmas presents for her five year-old son, she was understandably distraught.

In keeping with what I believe God has asked of me, I helped her, with my husband's blessing. But, as I've done several times before, I also prayed for her. I closed my nose to the lingering smell of cigarettes and probably pot, and I hugged her, told her God loved her so much, and I prayed that He would show Himself to her and give her strength. She did not welcome it, but wanting the financial help, she tolerated it.

Today she came over again. You won't believe it, she said. The day after you prayed for me I got a call, and I'm getting a second check after all. I can buy Christmas gifts for my son. I can't believe it. They told me the day before that there would be no check, and then right after you prayed, they said they are sending me a check. Keep praying, she said.

And I will. Because we are really not that different, she and I. We are both flawed and blemished souls greatly in need of help. And, thankfully, mercifully, loved by a great, great God.

(**Jennifer Fulwieler, at Conversion Diary, wrote an amazing post about this subject a couple of years ago, but I could not find it to link to. So, I just linked to her blog. Pick a few posts to read; you won't be disappointed.)

Speechless

2011-11-17T21:40:00.005-05:00

Their teeth have been brushed. Covers have been tucked, heads kissed, and quiet prayers whispered. They lie sleeping now on soft mattresses under plush comforters in a warm house.

I'm tempted to write about how blessed I am. How blessed we are. And I feel blessed, I do. But I pause. I hesitate because I'm just not sure that's how this whole thing works. Am I more "blessed" than another because I live in comfort? I've never been comfortable using my level of comfort or contentment as a gauge of my level of blessedness.

So maybe instead of writing about how blessed I am, I'll just write about how grateful I am.

Grateful. It seems far too simple a word to convey the well of unspeakable, bursting-from-my-soul thanks for these precious gifts I could never deserve. I'm grateful for food on the table. I'm grateful for a roof over my head and favors from friends and a job I enjoy.

That can't possibly be the same word I use to convey how I feel about the little pieces of my heart that live and sleep and love and laugh (and argue and whine) here. The lives - the souls - that have been entrusted to me.

Maybe there really aren't words. I tuck them, I kiss them, I stroke their hair, and breathe in the scent of them.

And I thank God that He knows my heart and doesn't need my words.

Because I'm speechless.

Three examples of why it's great to have a daughter

2011-09-26T23:16:00.003-04:00

1. I know more about what Lauren has done in the past four weeks of school than about what the boys have done in several years. Boys have two responses to the question of what they did at school each day: "Nothing" or "I don't remember." Lauren tells me who said what and when and how and what they were wearing when they said it. Apparently, I will have to just wait a few years to find out what the boys did in each grade.

2. I love shopping for all of my kids, but girls clothes . . . they're just cuter. Plus the reaction when I give them something new is so much better from a girl. For instance, I went to Elmira, New York on Saturday to do some shopping and brought home a shirt for Josh and some hair clips for Lauren. Joshua's response: "Cool." Lauren's response: "Ohmigosh! They're adorable!!"

3. When Ethan came down with a 103.2 fever tonight, I asked Lauren to go upstairs and get his pillow so he could lie down on the couch. When she brought it down, she said, "Mom, anytime someone is sick, you should send me to get their pillow because I bring them something special, too." She had brought him a stuffed animal. Once I got him all set up with his pillow and blanket and movie, Lauren sat on the end of the sofa and said, "I'm gonna sit here so I can see the movie and so I'll be close by if Ethan needs me."

There are not words for how thankful I am that God blessed me with a girl.

Friday Morning: Why I Should Have Stayed in Bed

2011-09-25T09:05:00.003-04:00

6:00 ... Wake up

7:00 - 7:45 .... Wrangle three feral children into clothes and backpacks and send them off to school

8:00 ... Leave for court in a neighboring county about 40 min. away for a hearing at 9:00. Having never been to said court before, I want to give myself plenty of time.

8:10 .... Notice I am almost out of gas. Decide to stop in next town which is about halfway to my destination

8:30 ... Stop for gas. LOCK KEYS IN CAR like an idiot.

8:35 ... Discover keys locked in car, along with cell phone and briefcase. Panic. Go into convenience store and ask to borrow a phone and a phone book. Call police station where nice lady tells me she will contact the officer and send him right over. (The police will still get keys out of locked cars in small-town America.)

8:40 ... Realize I left my wallet on the counter in the gas station. Thank God when I realize it is still there.

8:45 ... Man in van pulls into gas station and asks me if I'm the lady waiting for the police officer to get my keys. When I say yes, he says that the police officer is at the elementary school doing a presentation and will not be able to get to me for another 45 minutes or so. Thank kind man for coming over to tell me instead of just leaving me waiting. Another high-five to small town America.

8:48 ... Call attorney friend who has office in the town I am stuck in to see if she is going to court today and can give me a ride. She is not but she is on her way to said town (she lives in the town I live in) and will be glad to give me a lift. It will take her 20 minutes to get to me.

8:49 ... Call my secretary and have her call court to let them know I'm going to be half an hour late. Random woman at gas station counter overhears me and offers to drive me to court. (Have I mentioned small towns are sometimes great?) Being desperate and deciding she does not look like a psychopath, I gratefully accept her offer.

8:50 ... Call attorney friend to tell her never mind. She tells me her secretary - whose office is 2 minutes away - is already on her way to get me. Thank random, kind gas station lady for the offer.

8:52 ... Friend's secretary arrives and drives me to court.

9:10 ... Arrive to court only ten minutes late. Apologize profusely to judge whom I have never met. Borrow legal pad and pen from court administrator since I left everything in my car. Thank God that I remember my client's name.

9:40 ... Finish successful hearing. Try unsuccessfully to bum a ride back to gas station in neighboring town. Call super amazing secretary friend again. She comes back to get me.

10:00 ... Arrive at gas station to find my car still at the pump and locked. (The amazingly nice store clerk had said she would watch for the police officer and move my car to a parking space once he opened it.) Gas station clerk is not there so Renee (secretary) takes me back to her office to make phone calls.

10:05 ... Call police station and speak to nice officer who apologizes for not being able to get my car open. He says he tried everything and couldn't get it. Renee calls someone else who agrees to meet us at the gas station and give it a try.

10:10 ... Renee takes me back to gas station to meet rescue man. Rescue man spends about five minutes working on it and gets the vehicle open!!! Ask man how much I owe and he tells me to go ask Dawn at the garage where he works down the street.

10:13 ... Arrive at garage and discover I left my wallet at Renee's office when we went back to make the phone calls.

10:16 ... Retrieve wallet for the second time that morning.

10:20 ... Go back to garage and pay TEN DOLLARS for rescue man's services. I'm really happy with small town USA today.

10:25 ... Go to florist and have flowers sent to attorney friend and Renee for turning their office into my personal taxi and rescue service.

10:30 ... Head back home to crawl under my covers and hide.

To Lauren

2011-09-18T00:00:00.005-04:00

Dear Lauren,

I know what it's like to grow up wishing for a sister. I, too, grew up as the only girl with two brothers. And I'm glad, because as a result, I totally "get" you. There are so many things about your brothers that they got from Daddy, but you little darling, you're all me. You're as pink and sparkly girly as they come . . . but . . . when your brother needs someone to have a light saber fight with, you're all in. And, I must say, you make an adorable Darth Vader.

You are a walking dichotomy of two different girls: the one who wore her purple frilly skirt and sparkly gold hairclip to gymnastics this morning and the one who rides through the galaxy with fierce determination to stop the Jedi forces . . . on her pink bike with the zebra-print seat.

Once the jedi rebellion has been quelled, you take a little time out for silly tricks. Excuse me, I meant super-amazing-never-before-seen bicycle tricks.

It would be impossible for me to name even a fraction of the things I love about you. But your tenacity, your feisty-ness, your amazing ability to hold your own with those brothers of yours without sacrificing a bit of your sparkly, princess girly-ness. That's at the top of the list. Ride on, Darth Lauren. The world is at your fingertips.

A letter to my children

2011-09-14T21:39:00.003-04:00

Dear Joshua, Ethan, and Lauren:

You're sleeping now, but in the morning it's going to happen. I wish I could stop it, save all of us from it, but I'm powerless. It's inevitable. The alarm will go off, and you will have to get up for school.

I know it seems like a cruel, heartless trick for me to come in your room at 7:00 every weekday morning and drag you out of bed when you clearly like to rise at 7:00 only on weekends, but nevertheless, I'm your mother, so I must. In the interest of retaining that last tiny little sliver of my sanity that seems to be holding on despite all odds, I have just a few requests for you.

1. I will not let you wear raggedy gym shorts to school every day. Deal with it. It's not like I make you wear a tie and wingtips. Believe it or not, cargo shorts and a nice t-shirt is not exactly formal wear. You are not the only kid in school not wearing basketball clothes, and even if you are, I don't care. Be glad you don't attend a school that requires uniforms, and be glad that your mother has not begun requiring you to wear uniforms despite that . . . yet.

2. Socks. They have seams at the end. Well, not all of them; they do make seamless socks. But, I've bought them for you more than once, and you hate them for some inexplicable reason that makes as much sense as hating polo shirts. So you're going to have to deal with the seams. You can try wearing them inside out as you often do, or you can adjust and manipulate the sock to your heart's content. But you may not - under any circumstances - take the shoe and/or sock off once it is on. I don't care if you think there is a rock the size of Gibraltar in there, there is not. There never is. So, when those shoes get fastened onto your feet, you take them off at your own risk. Your momma might get all crazy up in here, and if you miss the bus because you were "fixing" your socks again, you just might not make it to next year.

3. Lauren. Dear, sweet Lauren. Your underwear are not falling down. I do not know why every pair of pants and leggings you own makes it feel like your underpants are falling down; they are not. You pull them up until they are three inches higher than your pants, and still you insist they are falling down. They. are. not.

4. Here are your breakfast choices: oatmeal, waffles, eggs, toast, and cereal (we have the same five or six kinds of cereal we have had virtually every morning of your entire lives . . . you're not going to conjure up Lucky Charms by staring at the pantry for ten minutes). That's it. If you could begin making your choice while you're getting dressed or brushing your teeth - or even while you're walking to the kitchen - it would really speed things up. There's no reason to wait until you've looked at everything in the kitchen and asked me if you can have a yogurt pop or ice cream or a tootsie roll pop instead. Here are the cold, hard facts: the answer will NEVER be yes. So, let's not waste precious, possibly bus-missing, minutes have this conversation again.

5. Ethan. When you have your backpack and jacket and shoes on, and it's time to ~~walk~~ run out the door for the bus, you're going to get thirsty. How about getting a sip of water sometime before then. Just a suggestion.

6. If it's library day, don't cry to me that you "never had a chance" to read your library book. Don't ask me to read a 50 page chapter book to you at breakfast. It is your library book. With the exception of Lauren (and even she is getting pretty good), YOU CAN READ. Read your books sometime before 7:30 the morning they are due. And do not get mad at me when you don't have time to read it then.

7. There are three of you. There are two bathrooms upstairs. All of you will need to go potty. And brush your teeth. And comb your hair. If your sibling is on the toilet, perhaps you could just wait a moment or two before bursting in to brush your teeth. If your sibling is brushing his teeth, perhaps you could go pee in the other bathroom instead of yelling and crying that he won't get out because you have to go potty reeeeeaaaally bad. And perhaps - just perhaps - two of you could be in the bathroom at the same time without killing each other. Really. I'm fairly confident it won't cause sudden, painful, and immediate death if your sister combs her hair while you brush your teeth.

8. Joshua. You're not riding your bike to school. Period. I don't care how cool the bike rack is or how you're practically grown. It's not going to happen. Go ahead and get over it (again) the night before instead of in the morning.

But, hey, at least we have only 168 more school days to go. This year.

With never-ending love (even though I think you're determined to send me to the loony bin),

Mom

A glimpse into my thoughts . . . you've been warned

2011-09-08T22:46:00.005-04:00

I've heard there are people who get in bed at night and go to sleep. I am not one of those people. Don't get me wrong, I'd LOVE to be one of those people. I look forward to bed like some people look forward the season premier of their favorite t.v. show. When I sit at my desk in the afternoon, or when I'm folding laundry, or when I'm trying to muster the energy to exercise - or even grocery shop - I dream of bedtime.

But when it finally happens - the kids are asleep (for now); the kitchen is clean (enough) - the thoughts begin.

So, instead of just lying in bed keeping all these thoughts to myself, I thought I'd share them with you. You can thank me later (or not).

1. Yesterday Lauren asked if she could paint my fingernails. She picked out a deep shade of sparkly teal that she had chosen from the drugstore earlier, and I indulged her, knowing I could just remove it later. Of course last night I forgot about it. I remembered it when I was handing a cashier some money today and noticed that my fingernails looked . . . well, blue and like they'd been painted by a 5 year-old. Tonight, however, I remembered that I needed to take the polish off. Unfortunately, I also remembered that I used the last of my nail polish remover last week.

2. I haven't shared on here or on Facebook until tonight that my father-in-law has a malignant tumor on one of his kidneys. They found it in late July and scheduled surgery for today as it is apparently a slow-growing and usually contained type of cancer. Unfortunately, they were not able to do the surgery because a few days ago they informed him that he is not in good enough physical shape for surgery. He is 71 years old and has out-of-control high blood pressure, severe fluid retention, and diabetes. Please pray for him.

3. I am finding it harder and harder to get involved in debates like I used to. I have always loved a good political or theological debate. Actually, to be honest, I love to debate about anything and have been know to fight (almost) to the death over grammar and punctuation. Lately, though, the political and the theological fighting just leaves me drained when I'm not even engaged in it. I read newspaper columns and magazine articles and blogs, and I'm just saddened and exhausted by it all.

I have come to the realization that I would rather be known as someone who loves all the time than as someone who is right all the time.

4. Allergies. I hate 'em. Would any of my doctor friends out there be willing to come hook me up with a couple of i.v. drips? I could really use one to dispense a constant dose of Benadryl and another some caffeine to counteract the drowsiness caused by the Benadryl. I should need it only for another month or so. I hope.

5. We have three cats. How did this happen? Honestly, I really enjoy them and love the fact that three cats are waaaaaaaaay less work than one dog. However, we have one very whiny cat who meows all. the. time. And it's not just any meow . . . he does this vibrating trill first. Like he's a Spanish cat who's rolling an "r" for a second or two as he works up to the meow. He meows in the morning. In the afternoon. In the middle. of. the. night. I have to close him in the bathroom at night or else, just as I've finally gotten to sleep at 1 or 2 a.m., I will be suddenly and rudely awakened by "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr meow!"

6. Speaking of cats, we have had the third one for about 3 or 4 weeks now and still have not named him. We just call him little kitty. Any suggestions? He is black and grey tiger striped, and our other cats are named Dr. Flufferson and Nacho. So, of course his name has to go with those names. Since they are so alike and all.

7. I almost wore boots today because it was chilly this morning and I was wearing a dress that I normally wear boots with in the winter. I had to stop myself, though, as I remembered how long I will be wearing boots once winter actually arrives. By April I will be loooonging to wear anything other than a boot. Please, I will implore, no more boots. So I am holding off and will not wear boots any sooner than absolutely necessary.

8. If people would not watch Toddlers and Tiaras, it would not remain on television. I am really tired of people getting all up in arms about how awful those mothers are (and I agree 100%) but then watching the show about them. Same with Jersey Shore. Such trash is on only because people watch it. Stop watching it.

9. I love to watch Food Network even though I've never heard of most of the ingredients they use. Especially on Iron Chef. I think my only chance of winning would be if the surprise ingredients were sugar, flour, and eggs.

10. I keep meaning to lose weight, and I keep gaining it instead. Maybe if I just decide I'm going to gain 10 pounds, the opposite will happen? But maybe not if I can't quit the sweet tea. It's just so good and it tastes like home!

Alright, I will let you escape now. Spending more than a few minutes trapped in my mind is probably more than anyone can take. Which is what makes my poor husband such a saint. At least you can just stop reading my blog; he's gotta listen to this for the rest of his life! Someday I will write a post just about the things I've said (or done) that have mortified my spouse. That one will have to wait till I have more time. A lot more time.

A random recap of Labor Day weekend

2011-09-05T20:58:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I was down for the count. After carrying home the half-ton typewriter that Josh bought at a yard sale Saturday, I awoke Sunday morning barely able to get out of bed. I have a bad S-I joint anyway and am long overdue for another steroid injection, which is the only thing that gives me relief. Had I thought through my plan, it may have occurred to me that I should not carry that extraordinarily heavy object a half a block to my house. But, hey, this is me we're talking about. Thinking things through ahead of time is not my strong suit.

Fortunately, I woke much better today. David had done a really good job of stepping up the day before, so I didn't want him to have to run the show again today what with the fact that he's still recovering from knee surgery and all. The truth is we were a pretty pitiful pair. I mused this morning about whether this was a glimpse of what life will be like when we're 80 years old and struggling to get each other out of bed!

Anyway, we ended up having a very nice, mostly lazy, Labor Day Holiday. Watched Phineas and Pherb Second Dimension on Disney this morning, which I will admit I enjoy just as much as my kids do. Did a little laundry and vacuuming then made the kids a quick lunch before one of their friends came over to play. Lauren, upon hearing that today was a holiday, expressed utter disappointment when she learned that she would not be receiving gifts or having turkey for dinner. So, I let her choose what we would have, and she requested steaks, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. She and I set out for the grocery store to obtain the ingredients, and we both forgot the corn. Nevertheless, it was still a great dinner which ended up being shared with some favorite friends.

The soundtrack of the afternoon was one I never tire of: children laughing, music sounding from the ipod speakers, games being played, banana bread baking (though I guess that's more of a smelltrack than a soundtrack), and unexpected guests joining us because they know they are always welcome and wanted.

This Labor Day was a picture of the difference between a labor of obligation and a labor of love. I hope yours was, too.

A treasure

2011-09-03T21:22:00.006-04:00

Today was yard sale day. Not for us but for 207 other families in our town and the surrounding areas. (Yes, apparently, there are 207 other families here!) Each Labor Day weekend we have Town Yard Sale Saturday, which creates chaos in our streets rivaled only by town festivals and town parades.

I personally have never had it in me to hold on to every piece of junk I've ever owned in the hope that someone will pay me a dollar (or a quarter) for it after I spend days sorting, organizing, and displaying it. However, I do set out annually to see if there are any bargains to be had. The kids grab their money and come along, finding something they must have at virtually every stop. I don't pay much attention when they carry on about how much they have "always wanted" the piece of junk they spotted fifteen seconds before. We have so much junk in our house already, so even a dime is really too much for a castaway happy meal toy. Free? Still too much.

Today, however, Joshua set his affection on a most unusual object. A dirty, dusty, non-working antique Remington typewriter. He was completely overcome with desire for this device. At only $7, cost was not really an issue, but my aforementioned aversion to adding more junk to our house was. I sometimes dream of throwing away everything we own just so I can see all of the floors and walls again. So, I told him no. "But, it's like a treasure, mom! It's so old . . . an old treasure! Please!" No.

We walked along to several other sales, and he still could not stop talking about it, so I finally told him that if it was still there when we came back (it was right near our house), I would think about it. "Mom, can we please go back now?" he pleaded, "My stomach is flipping because I'm worried it won't be there when we get back." He maintained that he'd never wanted anything so much in his life, despite my reminder that he had known of its existence for only thirty minutes. At every intersection, his face would fall and his entire body follow suit when he saw that I was turning a direction other than toward our house.

Eventually, we headed home and went to check on the typewriter as promised. It was still there, but where before I had given it only a cursory glance, this time I really looked it over. It was dusty. Dirty. A little grimy. Heavy, very heavy. I said no. I explained that it was just going to take up space and be of no use. He argued a little but mostly accepted my answer.

When we got home, though, he started to cry. I implored him to understand that it was just not a good purchase. Had he noticed that no one else had bought it either? "That's just because they don't have any imagination!" he replied, channeling a male version of Anne of Green Gables.

Finally I told him to go ask his dad what he thought about it. David, apparently having more insight into the heart and mind of an 8 year-old boy than I, told him he could buy it. Which is, of course, what I really should have said to begin with. It was, after all, seven dollars. His seven dollars. We headed back over to the sale (together because it would take both of us to carry it home), and he paid the lady his seven dollars. (By the way, I stood there for a minute afterward to talk to a friend, and someone else tried to buy the typewriter literally two minutes after we purchased it . . . whew!)

As I watched him later attacking the machine with a cleaning rag and a bucket full of soapy water - for an hour - I couldn't help but think that I had almost deprived him of this joy. For no real reason. I didn't want to have the junk sitting around. It held no value to me. I saw nothing in it. But to him - to him - it was a treasure. Who am I to say it's not?

Pure randomness

2011-08-23T22:45:00.003-04:00

I really want to get back into the habit of regular blogging, but I can't seem to find the right thing to write about lately. So, here's a little of everything to jump start me.

Lauren's latest phrase du jour is "a little help here??" For instance, as she's trying to open the refrigerator door while holding the orange juice, she turns to me and says, as though she is an adult, "Um, a little help here?"

Joshua is trying so hard to grow up. He has been begging me lately to let him ride his bike with a friend to a little store in town that sells ice cream because the neighbor kids are allowed to do so. I've told him no way, no how. He keeps trying different angles. "Mom, we won't go down Main Street, and we'll cross at the light." "You let me ride to the high school, and that's even farther." (It's not.) So yesterday, he comes up with, "Mom, you're going to have to trust me on my own someday, you know." Yes, Josh, someday I will. But not today.

He's "training" to run a 5k on Saturday. Our library has an annual 5k/Fun Run in August, and last year the kids all participated in the Fun Run. This year Josh has decided he wants to run the "real race," and he's a pretty good runner for an 8 year-old, so I told him he can give it a try. Today I showed him a map of the route and told him I would drive along next to him if he wanted to give it a practice run. His response in a completely deadpan voice: "I can't believe you're letting me do this race, but you won't let me ride my bike to the corner store."

We took the kids to see the movie Zookeeper tonight. (Just to clarify, it has a few inappropriate parts, so this is not a recommendation, just a story. But it was funny. Also, consider this a spoiler warning.) So opening scene of the movie is Griffin (Kevin James) proposing to his girlfriend. She says no and then there is an embarrassingly awkward encounter with a mariachi band that he had already hired to show up right after. Fast forward almost two hours to nearly the end of the movie. She proposes to him five years later, he says no, and she had hired a mariachi band to replicate the one he hired when he proposed. The humor, obviously, was in the irony of the situation being completely reversed. I think it was a little lost on Ethan, who laughed and said, "The band finally caught up with them." Because, you know, the mariachi band had been hot on their tails for five years.

David is having knee surgery in the morning. He tore his meniscus practicing for the alumni football game this summer. Of course, he'll tell you it tore because he spent the day staining the living room floor and not because he was playing football. The fact that he got injured playing high school football at age 35 was purely happenstance. So, anyway, say a prayer for him tomorrow. He's not the surgery pro that I am, so he's nervous about it.

I really hate when The Daily Show is in reruns.

I survived an earthquake today. Though I first blamed it on the kids, yelling, "Whatever you're doing, stop it! You're shaking the whole house!" Who'da thunk it was an earthquake in north central PA?

I went back-to-school shopping for the kids yesterday and enjoyed that it felt appropriately Fall-like at 67 degrees. Summer is pretty short here, and so is Fall for that matter, but I love the chill in the air nonetheless.

In six days, I will send all three of my children off to all-day school for the first time. I can't imagine what it will be like to have a quiet house from 8-3 every day. I'm willing to find out, though!

Defining me

2011-08-18T14:39:00.003-04:00

A few months ago in church I joined everyone in singing a familiar old refrain: "I've got a river of life flowing out of me." You probably know the rest about making the lame to walk and the blind to see. I sang the familiar lyrics as I probably have a thousand times in my life (though not likely in the past decade).

Later, though, I began to think about what I had sung. Was it true? Do I have a river of life flowing out of me?

I have the Fount of Life within me, no doubt. The water is there . . . but does it flow out of me?

Usually not.

More honest lyrics might be any of the following:

"I've got a river of criticism flowing out of me"
"I've got a river of judgment flowing out of me"
"I've got a river of selfishness flowing out of me"

Really, that song could go on all night. The things that flow out of me are endless, but unfortunately, not a lot of it is Life.

In the past few weeks, I've tried to be conscious of that, and another truth has taken hold along side it. How should people know that I'm a follower of Christ? Because I wear a cross necklace? Because I don't smoke, get drunk, or hang out in night clubs? Because I don't swear? Because I don't gossip? Lie? Cheat? (Note: These are hypothetical examples, not necessarily fact-based.) What should be the defining thing about me that tells people I'm a Christian?

John 13:35 answers the question: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if ye love one another."

When was the last time you heard someone say, "Oh, she must be a Christian. She's so loving?" We have become so defined by what we oppose that we have entirely lost what we are supposed to be for.

Jesus didn't oppose much. Except hypocrisy. And judgment. And pride in one's own works.

Jesus was for us. He loved. Everywhere he went, he loved. He healed, He delivered, He restored. And in case we might miss the point, He spelled it right out for us: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and soul; this is the first and greatest commandment. The second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the law and the prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matt. 22:38-40)

So many things He could have said were most important, but He knows that all the outward deeds, the works, the performances spring from the one place: our heart. Until our hearts are filled up with His love, none of the rest matters.

Let's be people who are known for what we DO (love) rather than people who are defined by a list of things we don't do.

I don't know about you, but I want a river of life to flow out of me. That will happen when I care more about demonstrating Christ's love to everyone around me than about making sure they know what I'm against.

"A new command I give you: Love one another." (John 13:34)

Lauren's Preschool Graduation

2011-05-20T08:02:00.009-04:00

So after only three months of no posts, I'm back with a photo post. You know, I had rather given up on ever blogging again, but Facebook is just not sufficient to mark the my baby girl's passing from pre-school into real school. Plus she's cute, so how can that make for a bad blog post, right?

The ceremony began with a performance by the Animal Mania Company (aka the preschoolers), so the kids were to arrive in costume. Here's Lauren as an adorable lamb, minus the headpiece, as we headed off.

The set that the staff had created was amazing and began with each child's own personal star outside the theater. (Lauren's is at the bottom, but I wanted to show a section of the wall.)

Lauren and her two BFF's performing "Baa, Baa, We're Lambs" to the tune of "Barbara Ann."

Next was the cap and gown ceremony. To the sounds of Pomp and Circumstance, each child begins the journey down the aisle alone so mom can snap a picture, and then the child's family joins them halfway to walk to the front with them for their "diplomas" and a framed photo of the child in cap and gown. (Her amazing teacher took them ahead of time during practice.)

After the brilliant musical performance, the cap and gown ceremony, and a reception afterward, it was time to head home. But not before Daddy gave Lauren flowers, which I think may have been the highlight of her night. At least judging by the size of the smile and the gasp when he handed them to her.

You did great, baby girl. We are so proud of you.

Why I cannot homeschool

2011-02-17T16:48:00.003-05:00

I remember when Joshua was two and I naively thought that, one day, as he got older, the questions would end. I was wrong.

The following conversation took place on a car ride yesterday during which we were talking about wanting to climb Mt. Everest some day:

Josh: Mom, could a really, really fat person climb Mt. Everest?

Me: Probably not, because you have to be in really good shape to climb such a big mountain.

And because if he scraped a really sharp rock, it might poke a hole and he would shrink?

Um, no. An overweight person is not full of air like a balloon . . . it's fat.

Mom, I wish that could happen so I could be really, really, REALLY fat and then poke a hole in myself and fly up through the air like when you let the air out of a balloon and it goes all over the place.

Yes, that does sound fun.

Mom, do you think if I was as big as 100 trees and was full of air and you poked a hole in me, I would fly up as high as the top of Mt. Everest?

-------------

So, really, how does one answer such a question? I am not a stupid person but must plead ignorance on the force created by the release of air in a person the size of 100 trees. I'm pretty sure we never addressed that scenario in physics.

This is why I don't do homeschool.

7 Quick Takes Friday

2011-02-16T09:28:00.008-05:00

1. It's starting to dawn on me that my kids are not going to grow up as Southerners. This morning Lauren asked me if she could watch a particular show, and I said, "I reckon." Her response: "Mommy, does that mean yes?" Surely if she had lived in the South for more than three short years, she would know this.

2. When I was putting the boys to bed a few nights ago I asked Joshua if anyone in his class talked about having crushes on other kids. (I read something about this the other day, and it got me curious.) He said yes they do.
"A has a crush on C."
"Really?" I asked. "And do you have a crush on anyone?"
"Blech!!! No!!!!" (much to Mommy's immense happiness)
"Have you heard of anyone having a crush on you?"
"Yes. M, A, J, D . . ."
I interrupted him. "All of those girls have crushes on you?! How do you know this?"
"Because they tell everyone."

I have to admit he's awfully cute, but still I was happy when he told me that he does not like any of the girls and that he's never getting married. Fine by me. :)

3. Lauren bought herself a new Webkinz pet yesterday. Because my kids are like the U.S. Congress when it comes to money . . . if they have it they must spend it, and they must find a way to spend more than they have.

So, she picks out this adorable peacock:

Pretty, no? She decided to name her "something beautiful that starts with P." She eventually settled on Penelope Paris Peacock. "That is a really pretty name, Lauren," I told her, and she replied (of course), "And she has really awesome fighting skills!"

What could be more important in a pretty pink and purple peacock?

4. I think I am a hazard to my health. I don't know how it happens, but I have an impressive ability to hurt myself in ways no one else would ever think of.

Today as I was eating lunch, which is apparently something I need to practice, I cut the top of my mouth on the corner of a corn chip. David was walking by as I said, "Ow!" He commented that he hears me say "Ow!" almost every time he walks through the room. "Well, stop walking through the room," is what I thought, but what I said was, "I can't help it. I cut my mouth on a chip."

He didn't seem to understand how that can happen. Which leaves me little hope that he's going to understand how I hurt my finger when I misjudged the dimensions of the door frame and smacked my hand up against it in such a way that it caused my diamond ring to press against my knuckle and actually break the skin. Ouch.

Or how I hurt the outside of my arm by scraping it on the nail that sticks out of the wall on the stairs. Again. So what? I don't know how I manage to lean against the wall every time I walk up or down the stairs. Apparently, I need guardrails.

5. Lauren's preschool class had their Valentine's Day party on Monday. Here are some pictures to fill up another QT.

6. I really must figure out an easy way to make a collage so I can put multiple pictures together. (In case you didn't know what collage meant.) Anyone have tips for me? (Lenae? How about you? I know you do this and have absolutely nothing better to do with your time right now, lol.)

7. Hope you all have a fantastic weekend. And check out more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Photo update: the lazy blogger's best friend

2011-02-07T14:56:00.005-05:00

So, here's what we've been up to since I last updated with photos.

Lauren's preschool had "Crazy Hair Day:"

We've had a lot of snow and ice the past month. Shocking, I know. (For perspective on this snow pile, see the top of the stop sign barely sticking over the mound.)

Who needs to hang Christmas light icicles when you can have the real thing?

Next on our list of 101 uses for icicles . . . swords

. . . and popsicles . . .

Shadow has become sort of trustworthy upstairs lately, so Lauren loves playing in her room with him. He's makes a great sous chef.

Isn't he cute when he's not destroying our home?

Joshua's cub scout pack had their Pinewood Derby wherein they build cars out of, um, I don't know . . . pinewood? . . . and then race them in a nail-biting, exhilarating series of races. (Sadly, Josh was the only one there not in uniform. How did it not occur to me that he should wear his uniform? Oops.)

59 things I love about my mom

2011-02-05T08:16:00.003-05:00

In honor of my mom's 59th birthday, 59 things I love about her:
(Disclaimer: the following list is in no particular order and lacks parallel structure.)

1. Her undying devotion to her family
2. Her tenacity
3. All the times I found her sitting on the sofa in the little living room with her coffee and her Bible
4. Her willingness to get in the trenches
5. That she went on every field trip
6. That said field trips included driving all the way around the state of GA with a van full of 7th and 8th grade students . . . I bow in awe
7. The way she stepped up and created a youth group when we were teenagers
8. How she opened our home to our friends
9. That she got involved in everything we did growing up
10. Her willingness to let part of our yard be turned into a swamp for mud wrestling
11. How she's met with the same three women to pray for her children for the past 21 years
12. That she'd rather cut off her arm than miss a phone call
13. Her presence with me during the birth of all of my children
14. That I know she'd do absolutely anything to help me
15. The way she stayed at my house for a few nights when I came home with each of my babies even though we lived in the same town
16. How she let me live on her couch when I could barely function from morning sickness
17. Her love for her children
18. Her love for my children
19. Her love for my dad
20. How she models a great marriage
21. Her inability to sit quietly in the passenger seat of a car
22. That she has become willing to sit in the back seat with a book instead of in the front where we might kill her
23. That she continued to let me drive as a teenager after all of the things I backed into or rear-ended
24. That she loved my friends and loved having them around
25. Letting us take friends with us on family trips to the beach
26. Taking us so many places when we were growing up
27. That she always mispronounces the word "prescription"
28. Her aversion to change . . . at least that never changes
29. The way she would stop at Burger King to get me and Jen a chicken sandwich after we'd had her paged at the grocery store
30. How she regularly left money at a grocery store so that a poor family we knew could buy groceries
31. How she did this so discreetly that I didn't know about it until I was much older
32. Her generosity
33. The way she loves to give gifts
34. How she forgives
35. That she has been to my house in Pennsylvania five times since I moved here less than two years ago
36. That she took care of Joshua so I could work part-time when he was a baby
37. The way she made "helping with her grandchildren" her priority
38. All the times she met me in a parking lot so she could sit with the kids in the car and I didn't have to drag three kids (ages 3 and under) into a store with me
39. Her love of Country's salads and unsweet tea
40. That we love to go to movies together
41. The ways she says almost every movie in the world "started out a little slow"
42. How she can't help commenting on movies as we watch them and still loves me if I yell at her for it
43. What a loyal friend she is
44. That she gets me a chocolate raspberry truffle ice cream cake from Brusters for my birthday every year
45. Her love of reading - I'm sure I have her to thank for mine
46. That she was a stay-at-home mom and never gave us the impression that she was missing out on anything else
47. For sticking up for me
48. For being my biggest fan and cheerleader
49. How I knew she was praying for me during every law school final exam
50. For reading my blog and telling everyone else to :)
51. The way she admits her mistakes and gave us the freedom to do so
52. That she rearranged her schedule to stay in Pennsylvania when Ethan had a bike accident
53. That she sat by my bedside and took care of me after my surgery
54. How she allowed my boys to move in with her afterward while I was recovering
55. Her tirelessness
56. The way she can never sneeze only once . . . I inherited that, too
57. Her strength of character
58. How she taught me by example
59. THAT SHE IS THE BEST MOM IN THE WORLD!!

Happy birthday mom. You're my hero, and I love you.

Creative thinking from a 6 year-old boy

2011-02-02T21:07:00.002-05:00

My kids and I often pass time in waiting rooms and such by playing the "animal alphabet game." You go through the alphabet one letter at a time and when it's your turn you describe an animal that starts with that letter.

Ethan's description for the letter E: "It's big and gray, and if it was in a butt-fight, it would win." (In case you can't figure it out, the answer was "elephant.")

A butt-fight. No mention of a trunk. Or ridiculously large ears. Or a love of peanuts or enormous feet.

Just a butt-fight.

I've decided I want Ethan on my team next time we play Taboo.

It's a slippery world out there

2011-01-31T18:59:00.006-05:00

It's no secret that I am accident prone. Some would call me a klutz, but I prefer "gracefully challenged." As Mr. Pitt on Seinfeld said, "You can't have some grace; you either have grace or you don't." I don't.

Prior to moving to the frozen tundra of northern PA, my biggest challenges were things like curling irons, hot stoves, curbs, corners, and furniture. All of which may sound pretty innocuous to you, but trust me, with depth perception like mine, they are perilous indeed.

Now that I live in Siberia, my well-being faces a new threat on a daily basis: ice.

Oh sure, all that snow looks pretty and fluffy. And it is. It's what lurks underneath that causes me lacerations and abrasions and contusions.

A few weeks ago we managed an unprecedented-in-January four straight days without snow. This was a welcome occurrence but would have been even more so if it had been ice-free as well. As it was, the kids decided having an ice skating rink for a back yard was awesome. That's because they were not the ones who had to take the dog out. Thrice in one day I was pulled off my feet and left with bruises on knees, hips, and buttocks. Mine, not Shadow's.

Then came Saturday when I decided to brush some snow off of a cooler I was putting in the van. At least it looked like snow. Upon forcefully swiping my hand across it, I discovered it was actually ice. One large finger laceration later, I will not make this mistake again.

Tenacity is one of my strong suits, so despite a brief consideration of hiding in my bedroom until June, I've continued to venture out into this treacherous world of mine.

At least until yesterday. Here's what happened:

The setting: the church parking lot
The time: 11:10 am
The characters: trust me, I'm the only one necessary

As I was rushing to exit the van because I was running late for church, I stepped quickly out of the driver's door. My first foot hit the unseen ice right outside my door, and before I could stop myself, it came right out from under me as the other leg floundered uselessly beside it. I landed on my hip, which managed to slow my fall but not stop it entirely. Once my hip slid out from under me, my upper half continued down, down, down until it was brought to a halt by the van. I managed to smack the side of my head on the bottom of the doorframe - the place where you step into the van. As if a battered hip and a headache were not enough, I lifted my head to discover that my ear was bleeding because I had somehow managed to fall in such a way that I smacked my ear on the edge of the van.

Who manages this type of trauma in a 2.5 second period?

Me, that's whom. Which is why if you're looking for me before summer, you'll find me in my house. Behind the couch. With cushions barricading me on every side.

Ten things I never really wanted to be . . .

2011-01-28T09:12:00.003-05:00

but have nevertheless become:

1. A northerner

2. A mom who yells at her kids too often (because there is an acceptable amount, right?)

3. One of "those" moms who sometimes wears her pajamas when she drops her daughter off at school (though only in winter when you can't tell because of the boots and heavy coat anyway . . . right?)

4. A person whose dog barks at 7:30 every morning probably waking up sleeping neighbors

5. A person whose yard is perpetually full of poop from the aforementioned dog

6. A working mom

7. A grown woman who doesn't balk at wearing Transformer or Hello Kitty band-aids

8. A completely out-of-shape person who justifies her sweet tea and baked goods habit with plans to work it off the next day . . . starting tomorrow . . . or maybe the next day . . . ok, starting now . . . or . . .

9. Someone who complains about always being behind on the laundry . . . and the mopping . . . and the dusting . . . and we won't even mention the state of my van before I was forced to clean it out this morning.

And last but not least

10. A blogger who rarely updates her blog and then apologizes in every post about how she never updates her blog and then promises to do better.

See what I have become?

Dinner fail

2010-12-22T21:20:00.002-05:00

The following is a public service announcement.

How NOT to cook a successful dinner:

1. Put fish and dinner rolls in the oven to bake.

2. Put rice and green beans on the stove to cook.

3. Go upstairs to get some dirty laundry for the washing machine, which has been off for a record-breaking 17 minutes.

4. Get distracted by the clutter in your bedroom and decide to clean out yours and your husband's dressers. (You have the "luxury" of doing this only because your husband has taken all three children to a cub scout meeting and you are home alone. You must seize the opportunity secretly to get rid of the faded, torn, threadbare t-shirts said husband has been wearing since he was in college 15 years ago.)

5. Begin to smell something burning.

6. Go downstairs to discover a kitchen full of smoke and nothing that resembles the salmon, rice, green beans, and rolls with which you started . . . an hour and 45 minutes ago.

7. Call China Garden.

This has been a public service announcement brought to you by The Voice of Experience.

Some catching-up

2010-12-20T13:10:00.005-05:00

Wow, it's been awhile.

I've had a million thought of things to blog about over the past month but never the time to do it. So, I'll just do a generic catch-up post and try to come up with something more clever soon, I promise.

1. I am home with all three children on this Monday before Christmas. The boys are both semi-sick, so I let them stay home to rest. We leave for Georgia soon and I don't want sickies on our trip. Since dragging them out into the cold to take Lauren to school would have defeated the purpose of keeping them home, I kept Lauren home today, too.

We've had a morning filled with apple pancakes (didn't turn out as tasty as I'd hoped), Battleship games, jigsaw-puzzles, Uno, and books. Despite the coughing and runny noses, it's been one of my favorite days of late. But really, how can a day that starts with kisses and snuggles be bad? (Okay, maybe the Benadryl I gave the boys is somehow making ME delirious.)

2. I have been having trouble getting into the spirit of Christmas this year. Not the "secular" spirit. I've had the lights and the tree and the decorations up since Thanksgiving. Gifts are all bought and wrapped, and parties have been had.

What I've been lacking this season is the spiritual readiness. I normally do an advent calendar/prayer chain with the kids during December, but this year we never quite got around to that. I did implement an advent wreath during children's church to turn the kids' hearts toward the anticipation of the savior, which I think went well.

3. David and I both participated in a service at the Episcopal church last night, which I really enjoyed. They have a "Lessons & Carols" service each year where they ask people from various churches in the community to come and do readings, which is what I was doing. (David was playing the trumpet.) For such a tiny church, they had an amazing choir, and they started the evening with one of my top three favorite Christmas hymns, "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence." I think a reverent liturgical service is just what my heart needed right now.

4. On a lighter note, we hosted our 2nd annual Christmas party Saturday night, and that went off without a hitch. A little food, a little fun gift exchanging (the highlight of which may have been this book . . . which is illustrated . . . gross!), and a little game-playing, all while the children were entertained by a babysitter upstairs. Perfect.

5. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a serious aversion to the sound of teeth being brushed. I cannot stand to watch someone brush his/her teeth . . . it kills me. So, Joshua has been making little videos with his ipod lately. He films his stuffed animals, the football game on television, the dog, etc. Well, a few nights ago he brought me his ipod and said, "Mom, you have to watch the video I just made." As I began to watch, I noticed that he was grinning ear-to-ear and trying not to laugh.

He had filmed himself brushing his teeth and tried to trick me into watching it.

He is his father's son.

6. This was our Christmas card this year:

Though I considered going with a more honest photo this year:

6. Somehow the thousands of things I've thought to blog about in the past month are all proving elusive at the moment. So, since I'm at a loss for things with which to entertain you, and there is laundry just waiting to be folded and put away, I will bid you adieu.

And hopefully be back with better thoughts next time. From Georgia. Everything's better in Georgia, right? :)

Save fish. Live better.

2010-11-29T12:03:00.004-05:00

I've mentioned before that David is currently obsessed with fish. When David hones in on a new obsession, he goes all out. Fifty-five gallon tank, fish, lobsters, sea snake-ish thingys, fish tank toys . . . the whole nine yards.

Sadly, fish tend to die rather easily, so it's pretty common for the kids to come upstairs with a morning report of who died during the night.

Which is why David buys most of his fish at Walmart. They have a 90-day return policy. That's right. You can return your dead fish.

Last week I was heading to Walmart, which I may have mentioned one or two hundred times is an hour away. To save himself a trip, David asked me to return some fish for him. In case you're wondering where one keeps dead fish, the answer of course is the freezer. At any given time, my freezer contains ice cream, cheese sticks, hamburger meat, a year-old dead grouse (don't ask), and several dead fish. Please come for dinner anytime.

So, David asked me to take his fish back, and I, being the ridiculously great wife I am, agreed. Except that I, being the ridiculously forgetful person I am, sort of forgot.

It's not that I wasn't looking forward to handing the friendly 90-year old greeter man at Walmart four baggies containing dead fish; I was. I just forgot.

Which is why when I discovered them in my van a few days later, I was, for once, very glad that it's been 25 degrees outside.

So, if you see a crazy looking woman carrying ziploc bags of dead fish, and possibly a grouse, into Walmart, please don't identify me when you submit the picture to People of Walmart.

A party for a princess

2010-11-27T17:50:00.004-05:00

We had Lauren's birthday party today, so our dining room looked like a pink-and-purple princess bomb had exploded. Which means it looked perfect for a five year-old girl's birthday party. (Wow. Even typing that was difficult. How can Lauren be turning five?)

The party consisted of plenty of laughter, makeup applying, nail painting, jewelry making, cake-eating, and dancing. Lots of dancing.

He couldn't stand to be left out of the fun:

My flickering torch

2010-11-21T20:42:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite ways to unwind after a long day of dealing with bickering children is to sit at the piano and play hymns. As I was playing this evening, I turned in my songbook to one of my favorites (I say that about them all, don't I?): "O' Love That Will Not Let Me Go"

(If you aren't familiar with this hymn, the link above is to a version set to a modern tune with vocals by Sandra McCracken, whom I love.)

As with most lasting hymns, there is story behind this one. It was written in 1882 by George Matheson on the eve of his sister's wedding. Apparently, Matheson had gone blind quite a few years prior, and his fiance had left him upon learning that his sight could not be restored. She told him she couldn't bear to go through life with a blind man, and so it was that his sister became his caregiver for most of his life. On the night before her wedding, the rest of his family was gone overnight, and he was left alone, during which time he reported that he was "overcome with some kind of mental anguish" and that this song was "the fruit of that suffering."

The second verse is what struck me tonight:

"O Light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to Thee. My heart restores its borrowed ray, that in Thy sunshine's blaze its day my brighter, fairer be."

Though it may seem logical that the blind man who wrote this would refer to his own vision as a "flickering torch," it is equally true of mine.

So often I wish God would just give me what I think I want. Let me go where I think I want to go. Do what I think I want to do. I trust wholeheartedly this vision of mine, and despite how often it has led me astray in the past, I cling mightily to it.

How freeing it is to know that there is a Light who follows all my ways and sees the end from the beginning. The path may seem dark and scary sometimes, and I may be left with only shadowy images of what lies along the trail, but I walk with the Light. My own sight may be but a flickering torch, but He is all I need to see.

(The next verse is actually my favorite: "O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain and feel the promise is not vain that morn shall tearless be.")

A tutorial

2010-11-18T14:45:00.003-05:00

Dear husband,

This is a ladle:

This is a strainer:

When serving SOUP to one's children, the former is the better option.

However, I am thankful that I got to go play bunco while you served the children, so there will be no further remarks about your choice of kitchen utensils.

Some Quick Takes

2010-11-14T22:21:00.002-05:00

1.

I can't promise there will be seven.

2.

I put my outside Christmas lights up a few days ago. I realize it's not even Thanksgiving yet, so relax; they're not lit up. But, if I've learned anything in my year and a half as a Northerner, it's this: don't turn on your windshield wipers to clear snow until AFTER you close the driver's door.

But of more relevance to this topic: putting up Christmas lights when it's 52 degrees is soooo much better than putting up Christmas lights when it's 22 degrees.

Also, I love staple guns. Another lesson I learned last year: don't put the staples through the wires. Especially not both sides of the staple. David seemed to think that was a big deal.

I must say Pennsylvania has been very educational so far.

3.

Josh is doing cub scouts for the first time this year. I encouraged him to do it because it seemed right up his alley. Hey loves all things boy-ish and outdoorsy. (I can't believe "outdoorsy" doesn't have a squiggly red line under it . . . way to go spellcheck!) So with visions of camping and starting fires without a match and shooting things with a bow-and-arrow and tying cool knots, we signed up for scouting.

So far, it's been mostly work on the part of David and me. Selling popcorn. (me and Josh) Making a rocket for the rocket race. (David) And tonight's endeavor: making a peanut butter-chocolate Christmas tree. (mostly me)

I think I should get a merit badge.

4.

Shadow-the-dog has improves so much lately that he's been allowed to have free reign of the downstairs when we're not home. It's been two weeks now that we've been leaving him loose during the day while we're at work, and so far it's going quite well.

Two curtains torn down in two weeks is not bad, right?

5.

David is obsessed with fish. We added an aquarium to our living room a few months ago, and I think he adds new fish to it every week. (This does not lead to as many fish as one would think when one factors in the purchase-to-death ratio. It seems fish like to eat one another.)

I've always been intrigued by David's ability to enjoy watching a model train travel around a pretend track, and now I'm equally intrigued by his ability to watch little fish swim around a 55-gallon tank.

They're fish. They're swimming. Oh, look . . . now they're swimming the other way.

6.

We are planning to see the movie Unstoppable this weekend. It was filmed in the town next to ours last year, and if you'll recall, I barely missed becoming a Hollywood star. Missed it by thatmuch. I'll try not to be bitter as I look at all the extras who could have been me.

Just wishing

2010-11-10T22:13:00.003-05:00

Every week during our Wednesday night church service, the pastor (who is also David's uncle) calls the children to the front of the sanctuary. He gives them each a piece of candy for coming to church (he knows the way to my kids' heart!) and then asks them Bible trivia questions. If they are the first to answer correctly they get more candy or sometimes a dollar.

The pastor will call on the person who had his/her hand up first, but because has has the heart of teddy bear, he always asks, "Who else knew that?" He gives an extra piece of candy to those who say they knew.

Lauren, who is not an idiot, has figured this out and raises her hand instantly after the question is answered and says, "I knew that!" She gets a lot of candy.

Joshua has been the one to answer correctly once or twice, but more often he, too, gets the "I knew it, too" reward. These usually go to the kids who, like Josh and Lauren, get their hands up within a second or two of the first person. Not only that, but when the pastor asks who else knew, they have to get it up again pretty quickly. Josh and Lauren are good at that.

Ethan, on the other hand, has never gotten a second piece of candy. Ever.

He is extremely intelligent. In fact, I suspect he may be the most smartest of all my children . . . don't tell the others I said so.

But he is not fast. He never has been. He takes a long time to process information, and I often have to remind myself to be patient while he processes my question or my instruction. He takes forever to tell a story because he speaks slowly. He is the last to finish his cake at every birthday party, including all of his own. He takes longer to put on his socks than Josh takes to get dressed, use the bathroom, and brush his teeth.

He is smart; he is just not quick.

So tonight he came back to our pew frustrated and struggling not to cry. He said, "Mom, I never get a second piece, and Lauren got four!" "I know," I whispered, "You just have to get your hand up faster." "I try, but there's always a ton of people with their hands up first," he lamented.

I wish there was something I could tell him that would make it better, but it is just a fact of his life that he is not fast. We all have strengths and weaknesses, and there will always be things at which we don't excel or even succeed. I also know that one day he will struggle and fight for things of much greater significance than a Hershey's miniature.

Today it's just a piece of candy, but I hate it for him.

I realize it's not a big deal, but I want to fix it. I want to hold practice drills after school to train him to get his hand up faster. I want to tell the pastor to change the way he does the questions so that the kids who aren't so fast will have a chance. I want to go up with him and jerk his hand into the air so fast the other kids won't even see it happen. I want all the other kids to come down with a sudden inexplicable illness that causes them not to be able to lift their hands.

Okay, maybe not that last one, but what I really want is just to make the whole world look out for and accommodate this precious little person so that he never feels bad about himself. Ever.

I know it won't happen, but what kind of momma would I be if I didn't wish?

7 Quick Takes Friday

2010-11-05T16:27:00.006-04:00

Lauren has been going through a clingy phase recently, not wanting me to go to work. She'll beg and plead and barter for me to stay home and does not believe me when I say I have to go.

Lauren: Who says you have to go to work? Did Ms. J say you have to?
Me: No, she's our secretary. She works for me and daddy. She doesn't say I have to work.
L: Does daddy say you have to?
Me: Well, he is in charge at work, but no, I just have to because there are things I have to get done today. I have to make some phone calls and read things and write some things.
L: So, you can just say you DON'T have to work today.

The other night while I was giving her a bath, I told her that I was working the next day. (I only work three days a week, by the way.) She started again with the "who says?" so I explained that I had to go to court.

Me: I have to go to court. The judge said I have to be there.
Lauren (in a lightbulb-going-off voice): Ooooohh, so the JUDGE says when you have to work!
Me: Yes . . . sometimes.

She's still not convinced I had to go to work the day before because the judge didn't say so. That's her new question now whenever I go to work: "Mommy, did the judge say you have to?"

The kids got school pictures back this week. Pardon the dirt on my scanner.

Joshua, 2nd grade:

Ethan, 1st grade:

Lauren, pre-school:

I had to go to Olean again today, because, well, apparently that's what I do on Fridays. Drive an hour to the dry cleaner and Walmart. And to pick up the glass for our table. Again.

Since the glass is quite big, I had to take all of the seats out of the van except the two front seats. So, now we have just gone all-out redneck and have all the van seats on the porch. Since I can't unload the glass by myself, that's where the seats remain for now.

So if you drive by my house right now, you will see my kids sitting in the van seats on the porch eating pretzels. A sofa on the lawn and we're all set.

I was listening to one of my favorite hymns during the drive - "Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken." I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it on here before, but it's worth repeating. One line in particular spoke to me today:

"Soul, then know thy full salvation. Rise o'er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find in every station, something still to do or bear."

All of us understand "doing." We ask God what He wants us to do. We keep busy with what we're currently doing and look to the next thing we have to do. We find our worth in what we do. We feel less significant, less worthy, if we're not doing.

But, sometimes we're not asked to do. We're asked to bear.

Sometimes all we can do is bear.

I've been meaning for quite some time to write a post about music. About the different types of music used in worship and why I find some types more conducive to my own worship than others.

I grew up in a non-denominational charismatic church singing mostly praise choruses. I attended a Baptist church for a few years in upper elementary/junior high school, so of course, that involved only hymns. (In fact, to the best of my recollection, it involved only about a dozen hymns!) In high school and college I was back in a non-denominational church where we sang "contemporary worship songs." These are similar to the choruses of the 80's but usually longer and with more depth. Many, as most newer worship songs do, contained verses and a chorus, rather than just a chorus repeated over and over. and over. and over.

For the last few years of our time in Georgia, we attended a Presbyterian PCA) church where the music was almost exclusively hymns, but they were different hymns from the ones I'd sung in the Baptist church all those years before. They were deep and insightful hymns, rich with meaning. Not only that, but many had been set to newer music to make them more "singable" than the tunes that accompanied them 200, 50, or even 15 years ago.

So, here we are today back in a charismatic church that calls itself non-denominational but is quite heavily Pentacostal. We sing mostly the choruses of the 1960's - 1980's. A few more recent songs, if by recent you mean within the past decade. (And ALL of them are song in a southern-gospel style. How did I manage to move 1,000 miles north and end up in a southern-gospel-singing church?!)

All this is to say, I've spent a lot of time thinking about worship music. I LOVE worship music. I love the old, old hymns; I love the modern worship songs. I listen to worship music when I drive, when I clean, when I work. When I play the piano, I play mostly for worship. I love it. It speaks to my soul.

What I do not love are 12 word choruses. I'm sorry, I just don't.

I've heard them called 7-11 songs, because they have seven words, and you sing them eleven times. I think that's a pretty accurate description.

Here's my issue with them, other than the fact that they are dated and southern-gospel: they don't give your mind anything to focus on.

I find that when I sing the same 10 words over and over, my mind begins to wander. Sure, sometimes I'll feel my spirit moved and be truly, deeply, focused on Christ. But not usually.

The eastern religions use chanting as a way to empty the mind. Repeating the same thing over and over and over empties the mind; it doesn't fill it. Some may say that emptying the mind is good in worship, because then the Holy Spirit can speak to a person more clearly. That may be true, but in my experience, that's not what usually happens. I'm focused on the Holy Spirit for the first two, three, maybe even four repetitions, but at some point, my mind begins to think about how I'm standing, how my shoes feel, whether the kids are behaving, what the singers are wearing, what we're having for lunch, etc.

That is not the case when I sing hymns that are full of thoughtful, intellectual lyrics. God gave us minds to understand the truth of the Gospel, and I find that I can worship Him more fully when my mind has things to grab onto. Like this:

Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known;
Yet how rich is my condition! God and heav’n are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like man, untrue.
And while Thou doest smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, storm and rain!
In Thy service pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have stayed my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me; heav’n will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me, while Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;
Think that Jesus died to win thee, child of heav’n, canst thou repine?

Hasten on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heav’n’s eternal days before thee, God’s own hand shall guide us there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise

Considering how long #5 was, I'll mercifully end now. :)

Head over to Conversion Diary for more!

Like a nocturnal Houdini

2010-11-01T08:55:00.003-04:00

Some people play musical chairs. My children play musical beds. Especially Lauren.

She had gotten into a bad habit recently of coming into our room during the night. I perpetuated this bad habit by being too tired to take her back to bed, so I would just give in and let her stay.

Eventually, I grew weary of this arrangement what with all the extra elbows and knees and three inches of bed she would leave for me to slumber in, so I began saying no. When she came in during the night and asked to get in our bed, I would drag myself up and take her back to her own bed.

Seemingly, this would lead to her staying in bed, right?

Not quite.

Apparently, being told "no" did not cause her to stop coming; it just caused her to stop asking. I would awaken at some point during the wee hours of the morning, and there she would be pressed up against me like a magnet. She somehow perfected the quiet, stealth-like climb right over my sleeping body into the middle of our bed. After a few mornings of this, David and I asked each other, "Did you say she could get in here?" Nope, she just sneaked in.

Of course, I told her she needed to stop doing this. No climbing in our bed without permission.

That worked. No more Lauren in the bed come morning. Great, I thought, she's finally sleeping in her own bed all night again.

Wrong.

At 4:00 this morning, Ethan came in my room. "Mom, who put Lauren in my bed?"

7 Quick Takes Friday

2010-10-21T15:23:00.007-04:00

Lauren has been composing and playing songs on the piano lately. All the time. Until today every song title ended with the word "forever."

"Joy Forever"
"We'll Be Here Forever"
"Boys Forever" (Yes, I raised my eyebrows at that one. I'm hoping it's because her favorite song right now is "When the Boys Light Up" by Newsboys.)
"Snow Forever" (I do NOT like that one, though given where we live, I fear it may be prophetic.)

That was her entire repertoire until yesterday.

Yesterday afternoon she was making up another new song the piano, and I overheard her telling her friend Ally what the song was called:

"I Seek My Deadness"

I must have had her repeat it fifteen times before I was convinced that's what she really said. Flabbergasted, I asked her where she came up with that. She said:

It goes, "My father died, my hope is found, and I bow and seek my deadness."

Umm, if I didn't know that she is the world's happiest kid who literally sings about butterflies when she's laying in her bed at night, I would be really concerned!

When I told David about the song title, he noted that it could just be a sign of her spiritual maturity. Technically, we should all be seeking our deadness, right?

As if on cue, just as I was typing this, she wrote another one and asked me if I wanted to hear her play it. She said it's called, "My Blood Is Here, But My Sin Is Not."

I'm thinking maybe the hymns I often play are going over her head a little, but she's coming up with remarkably spiritually sound song titles.

After four months of all-Super-Mario-Brothers-all-the-time, I am happy that the kids are rediscovering Wii Sports.

Surely flailing like madmen and screaming at the television while pretending to box is better for them than darting up and down tunnels and stomping on mushrooms, right?

Though, I must admit hearing my eight year-old yell, "Make him cry, 'Mommy!'" while playing Wii boxing is slightly disconcerting.

Make him cry, "Mommy?" Where does he get this?

Okay, I think that's enough stories about the freakishly bizarre things my kids have said this week.

Today was 4 year-old preschool Field Trip and Harvest Party Day. Here's Lauren and her class dressed as scarecrows for a party and field trip to a local nursing home:

Yes, as you can see in that last picture, it was quite cold outside today. Yes, Lauren was shivering. Yes, she's wearing capris.

They were supposed to wear blue jeans or overalls and a plaid shirt. Being my little fashionista princess, she HATES blue jeans, so she does not even own a pair. The best I could dig up was a pair of denim capris. It didn't occur to me until it started snowing that I should have made her put tights or leggings under them!

Yep, I've got that Mom of the Year award in the bag now.

Head over to Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes, and have a great weekend! May it be warmer where you are than it is here.

Notes to Self

2010-10-19T19:36:00.003-04:00

1. If you have more noodles than spaghetti sauce and decide to put the huge clump of leftover noodles down the sink, make sure to run the garbage disposal.

2. If you forget to run the garbage disposal, and clogged and leaking pipes ensue, please, PLEASE don't run the dishwasher.

3. If you have already set the dishwasher to run during the night, remember to TURN IT OFF, or you will awaken to a wet, sopping, disgusting flooded kitchen in the morning.

Sincerely,
The Voice of Experience

"Let people love you"

2010-10-11T00:04:00.003-04:00

Today was Joshua's 8th birthday.

I cannot believe my first baby, the one who made made me a mom, the one who slept wrapped in a glow-blanket for jaundice, who refused to sleep unless I was holding him, who learned right along with me all about swaddling and breastfeeding and diaper rash and bouncy seats, has been on this earth for eight years.

Tomorrow I will post pictures of his Super Mario birthday party and his favorite birthday present ever, his ipod.

Tonight, though, I wanted to share with you what Lauren "wrote" for Joshua this morning.

She was distraught when she realized it was his birthday and she did not have a card for him, so I suggested she make him one.

Lauren: Mommy, how do you spell "Dear Josh?"

I told her.

Lauren: Mommy, how do you spell, "I love you?"

I told her.

Lauren: How do you spell "Happy Birthday?"

I told her.

Lauren: How do you spell, "It's your day to let people love you?"

I sat in stunned silence. And then I wrote it for her and told her it was the best birthday wish I'd ever heard. (Especially from a four year-old!)

7 Quick Takes Friday

2010-10-08T06:25:00.000-04:00

I'm having an MRI this afternoon. I've had several, so I'm not overly freaked out about it, but they always make me nervous.

It's not so much the closed-space, claustrophobia issues that most people have.

It's the irrational fear that I have metal somewhere on me. I double and triple check that I don't have on my wedding rings or a necklace, but there's still always that concern that I have a steel plate in my head that I don't remember.

Is it bad that I think I wrote about this last time I had an MRI, but I'm not sure?

Words cannot describe how glad I will be when soccer season is over. This three-kids-on-three-different-teams thing is wearing me thin. Add coaching one of those teams, and I've about reached my limit.

Had to take Joshua back to the dentist in Corning, NY yesterday to have the kid version of a root canal. He did really well, but boy did it make me wish we had a pediatric dentist closer than 75 miles away.

I realized something while driving to Corning. There is a pretty simple formula for creating a small town. If you'd like to try it, here's the recipe:

1 Dollar General
1 Fox's Pizza
1 Buchanan Brother's Pharmacy
1 Tastee Freeze (or some other "uniquely" spelled ice cream place)
1 Acorn or 1 Sheetz
1 hardware store
1 VFW or American Legion Post
1 school
a few churches

Combine all of the above within a 1-2 mile radius, and you have just about every town within 50 miles of my house, my own town included.

My momma is coming tomorrow!!

Not only that, but she's bringing two of my four awesome nieces, one of my amazing cousins, and one fantastic friend who is like an aunt to me because she's been my mom's close friend for so much of my life.

If I can survive till tomorrow and stay awake all the way to Buffalo to pick them up, I will be one happy gal.

Which is why I should be cleaning my house instead of writing Quick Takes. Oh, and did I mention that Josh's birthday party is the day after they arrive?

It's official. I've lost my mind.

For Quick Takes by people who are not as desperately in need of getting off the computer as I am, head over to Conversion Diary.

Perspective (If you have a weak stomach, maybe skip this post)

2010-10-05T13:53:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I complained to my secretary about what a lousy morning I was having.

The day began with freezing temperatures, pouring rain, allergies that were making me sneeze non-stop, and an annual visit to the GYN. (Yes, I know that's just what you were hoping to read about when you hopped on the internet today. Don't worry, it gets worse.)

It seemed like a pretty miserable morning.

Until today.

This morning began with Lauren coming to me at 7:55 to complain about a "big scab" on her head. It was a tick. A big one.

Yuck, I'm shuddering just thinking about it.

The next half-hour was spent trying to get the tick to release its death grip on Lauren's scalp. No luck. Finally got some of the tick off, but not the most important parts.

So, at around 8:30 I went to the kitchen to call the doctor's office to set up an appointment for them to finish the tick extraction. When I walked in the kitchen I saw a sight from hell.

We set a few mouse-traps last night because we've seen evidence of mice the past few days. I completely forgot about it as I walked into the kitchen this morning.

Instead of the sight of a dead mouse in a trap (which is disgusting but preferable to the alternative), I saw the following: an empty trap, a half-chewed piece of cheese, and blood. Lots and lots of mouse blood.

Seriously, just kill me now. I take back all my complaints about the little sniffles I had yesterday. Please take away the tick and give me back my sniffles. Let me trade the bloody horror scene for a pap smear. I'll take three!

Perspective. If only we could get it in advance.

Fun Run

2010-10-03T16:13:00.005-04:00

If you've ever lived in a small town, you know there's nothing they love more than a yard sale. Except a parade. And a festival.

This weekend was the Falling Leaves Festival, and the festivities ended with a 5k/Fun Run to benefit the local library.

Being Beck, I read about the 1/2 mile Fun Run last week, meant to mention it to the kids, and then promptly forgot about it. Luckily, our house is very close to the library, so the sight of people mulling around in running gear jogged my memory, pun intended.

The kids were so excited to be in a real race:

All of the kids did great in the race.

Joshua came in second place but was very disappointed not to take first. He was in the lead the whole race, got to within about 10 feet of the finish line (which was not clearly marked), and thought he was done. As he slowed down, the little boy behind him sprinted past to take the win. So unclear was it that Josh didn't even realize he had not won until Ethan told him a few minutes later.

(I encouraged Joshua that second place is great, that he ran excellently, and that if he'd not slowed down he definitely would have won. I think I'll save the life lesson in that for another day when he's not so disappointed.)

Ethan took fifth place overall and held his own with the big boys the entire race. He asked me several times after the race, "Mommy, did you think I'd get 5th place?" I'm not sure what the best answer is because I did not think he would do well. I generally don't think of him as super athletic or competitive, but I'm starting to think that is simply a downfall of comparing him to Josh who is ULTRA athletic and competitive. The truth is Ethan is one of the better players on his soccer team (he scored three goals on Saturday), and he ran hard and fast today. I think I need to be careful of not pigeon-holing my kids based on my preconceived notions.

Lauren, of course, ran hard and did well. She was the first "little" girl to cross the finish line, coming in behind the bigger girls but among the little boys her own age. She was extremely proud of herself and told me she's an "awesome runner, aren't I?"

7 Quick Takes Friday

2010-09-30T09:02:00.006-04:00

Is this the cutest cub scout you ever saw?

I have mixed feelings about this Scouting thing. As you can see from the picture, Joshua went to Tuesday night's pack meeting with his shirt untucked.

We were also late.

I'm pretty sure we are a walking violation of the Scout Code what with its emphasis on preparedness and responsibility and all.

I know I promised parenting fluff today, but the truth is I just got nothin'.

Some weeks I find my kids ridiculously cute. Funny, endearing, precious, and all that. This has not been one of those weeks.

From the moment the boys came home from school today (Thurs night), Lauren and Ethan were on High Volume. There was shrieking and screaming, laughing and lamenting, howling and hollering.

All at maximum volume.

All afternoon.

And well into the evening.

Then there was bedtime. Amid cries of, "I need a drink of water," "My tummy hurts," "I'm scared," and "Ethan won't stop farting into his elbow," I finally heard one that got my attention.

"Mom, I never ate supper."

Since mom has had a raging sore throat, headache, and backache all day, mom retreated to the bathtub when dad came home. Mom asked dad to heat up some leftover chicken soup for the kids. Dad heated said soup, but apparently Joshua had a stomachache and did not eat said soup. Which he neglected to tell me until bed time two hours later.

Of course, Joshua's recollection that he never ate dinner triggered Ethan's recollection that he never did his homework. Normally, mom stays on top of these matters, but like I said, mom was letting Calgon take her away.

I think next time I should have Calgon bring me home sooner. Or keep me away longer. Either one would have worked.

I think I have decided for sure that I am not qualified to have three kids and a dog. Since I've gotten pretty attached to the kids over the years, I'm thinking it's the dog that needs to go.

Anyone want a really cute black/white dog who is completely house-broken, knows how to sit and lie down, and never, ever bites?

(Disclaimer: The aforementioned dog may or may not run away on a regular basis, dig dozens of holes in one's yard, jump on people with enough enthusiasm to knock over Andre the Giant, and chew up everything in sight, including but not limited to, socks, tissues, toys, rugs, coffee tables, and underwear. Dog comes with a lifetime warranty and money-back guarantee, but of course, some exclusions apply.)

Don't forget to check out more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

The Lie

2010-09-29T23:33:00.001-04:00

File under: Posts that are better classified as sermons

If you're looking for fluffy, funny parenting stories, check back on Friday. Trust me, I'll have fluff. Tonight I have the opposite of fluff.
________________
The Lie

When Satan deceived Eve in the Garden of Eden, he did so with a lie that has plagued people since.

Satan told Eve, "For God knows that in the day you eat from [this tree], your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." (Gen. 3:5)

He tricked Eve into believing that she was missing something. That there was more to be had than what she had already, which ironically, was God Himself. As if there could be more.

Prior to her encounter with the serpent, Eve had been at peace. She was already like God, made in His image, walking with Him, and exercising dominion over His creation. She wasn't missing anything.

But Satan attacked her in her place of peace. Her place of rest.

A couple of years ago I did a Beth Moore Bible study called "A Heart Like His." It's an excellent study of King David, and I highly recommend it. Since completing that study, I have found myself drawn time and again to the stories of David, Saul, Eli, Samuel, and Amalek.

Amalek?

Yes, it's a long story, but the gist of it is that God told Saul to attack Amalek, to "utterly destroy all that he has" and not to spare a man, woman, sheep, ox, etc. God was pretty clear about what Saul was to do, which was to leave absolutely no trace of the Amalekites. Saul, however, did not obey this directive; instead he killed everyone except Agag, the king of the Amalekites, and he spared the best of the sheep, oxen, and lambs. It was this disobedience that caused God not only to reject Saul as king but to remove his Spirit from Saul and send an evil spirit upon him instead. (Summarized from I Samuel 15 and 16)

Okay, if you haven't studied this, it all sounds pretty horrific. I agree; the world was a pretty brutal and savage place back then, and wars and destruction were part and parcel of the time.

But, there was something unique about God's wrath toward the Amalekites. There are numerous other incidents in scripture where God directs the Israelites to conquer another nation. He sent them into battle often, but His directive to utterly destroy the Amalekites is unique. There is something about it that caused me to want a closer look at why God despised the Amalekites so much.

To figure that out, I had to flip back over to Exodus where God had some pretty harsh words to say about Amalek: "I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven."

Wow, that's pretty strong.

What had Amalek done? Sure, he had attacked the Israelites, but so had lots of others. Why this invective against Amalek?

Here's what it says in Exodus 17:8 about what Amalek did while the Israelites were on their way from Egypt to the promised land: "Then Amalek came and fought against Israel at Rephidim."

Of course, I had to look up Rephidim, and guess what it means? "Rest"

As far as I can tell, there are only two individuals in the Bible whom God has made His mortal enemies and promised to utterly destroy: Satan and Amalek

Here's what the two have in common: They both attacked the "Rest" of God's people. Just like when Satan attacked Eve's rest, causing her to believe there was more to God than she had, that she was missing something, Amalek attacked God's people in their place of rest, and God promised to utterly blot out his memory from the face of the earth.

God does not take kindly to one who robs His people of their ability to rest in Him. If we know Christ, we are okay with God. We can cease striving. We have eaten of the Bread of Life and need not hunger again.

When Satan deceived Eve, when He made her hunger for something she already had, God warned him that he would "put enmity between you (Satan) and the woman, and between your seed and her seed." I've heard it said that this verse is the very first evidence of the gospel, the good news that God is not content to leave us on Satan's side. He made us enemies of Satan and promised that the Savior (the woman's seed) would come and crush him.

And of course, God did eventually wipe out Amalek's seed. Saul let Agag live, and eventually from Agag's lineage, we get to Haman, who we're told in the book of Esther, plotted to destroy all of the Jews. Haman is a direct descendant of Agag who was a descendant of Amalek. Interestingly, Haman is the only name I have ever looked up in the cyclopedic index of my Bible for which there was no meaning listed. None. It is meaningless. (If you research it, you will find that meanings were later assigned to the name, but all the sources I could find are in agreement that the meaning is sort of just agreed upon and was not originally the meaning of the name. I'm not sure what the significance of that is, if any, but I found it interesting that the end of Amalek's seed was a meaningless man who was hanged on his own gallows.) Esther 7:1-10

My point is this: Do not let Satan attack you in your place of rest. He wants to rob you of your peace and convince you that Christ in you is not enough. It's not true. He is all we need. No more, no less.

If resting is not your strong suit, and you feel like you need to "do" something, try this: love your neighbor.

Of all the verbs God could have used to describe Himself (and He used a lot of nouns), He chose love. It's the only verb I know of that God associated with Himself. He called Himself the Way, the Truth, the Life, the Bread, the Light, the Resurrection. But only one verb: Love. (Okay, technically, "Am," which He did use, is a verb, but it's not an action verb.)

There's my advice to you if you are "hungry for God." Rest in the knowledge that you have Him, and love your neighbor as yourself.

You'll see Him.

Monday Weigh-In

2010-09-27T21:16:00.002-04:00

Pounds Down:

This week: 2.6
Total: 7.0

I am finally officially over my sugar addiction. It took a couple of weeks of no exceptions, but on Friday I had a few sips of coke and felt absolutely no compulsion to drink an entire 2 liters. It feels really good not to crave sugar all the time now.

Another rule I'm following: no eating late at night. If I can't stop thinking about food, I go to bed. Just like with the sugar, after a week or so, I stopped wanting to eat at night all the time. It's amazing how quickly our bodies can be conditioned.

And re-conditioned if we just find the right motivation. Which for me is my favorite jeans. :) I'm hoping to be in them by November.

7 Quick Takes Friday

2010-09-24T13:07:00.005-04:00

As I write this, I'm channeling Edgar Allen Poe: "The fruit flies! The fruit flies!"

Haven't I been complaining about fruit flies for way too long now? Is it even possible to have them for this long?

I'm on my way to a rubber room.

Shocking news: I bought Lauren a new outfit the other day.

I know, I know. Hard to believe what with how I can't go into any store anywhere in the world without wandering into the little girls' section.

So last week I was in Bon Ton and saw the cutest little outfit: black leggings with a dress that is black and white checkers on the bottom and black on top with silver necklace appliques. Very cute. Oh, and I may have also gotten her a Hello Kitty jacket. I can't help it; she loves Hello Kitty!

Of course as soon as she saw the outfit, she put it on and fell in love with it. She put the Hello Kitty jacket on over it and said she was zipping it all the way up so she could surprise Daddy when she unzipped it and showed him the "pretend necklaces" on the dress.

Imagine my shock when she says to me, "Mommy, when I show daddy the dress, I'm gonna go like this:"

(starts unzipping the jacket, smiling, and making googly eyes): "Heeeeey, good-lookin'"

Just insert utter shock here.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked her where she heard that, fully expecting to hear something that would incriminate the neighbor kids, the big brothers, maybe her fellow soccer players.

Nope.

"From a story at school."

Apparently, they read a story wherein a character looked at the mirror and said to him/herself, "Heeeey, good-lookin'!"

The connection with unzipping the jacket was purely coincidental. I hope. Unless in her class at the Christian preschool, they were reading a book about a hooker.

In other conversation news, I had this one with David yesterday regarding whether I should keep my mouth shut about something that really burned me up:

Me: So, you think I shouldn't say that?
David: No, you're bigger than that.
Me: I'm not big. I'm small. Tiny.
David: Well, be big anyway.
Me (channeling Jerry Seinfeld talking about being a pirate): But, I don't wanna be big.

Sometimes the high road is not all it's cracked up to be. Especially when one's mind comes up with the zingers mine does. Seriously, the things I wanted to say were way too good to be wasted in just my own thoughts. They would have won the Pulitzer of Snarky Remarks.

Why, yes, the self-control I exercise is practically Herculean, thankyouverymuch.

We sing a song at church that contains the line, "I want to feel the hand of God move mightily inside of me." For the record, it's another song I intensely dislike. However, God speaks to me through anything he chooses.

A few weeks ago as we were singing it, I accidentally messed up the lyrics and sang "in spite of me" instead of "inside of me."

The truth was not lost on me.

"I want to feel the hand of God move mightily in spite of me." Judging by my clear need for a Savior (as illustrated in QT #5), I think this is actually a more meaningful and accurate lyric.

So, it's what I sing every time now.

Someone please nominate me for Parent of the Year. I assure you, I'm a shoe-in.

As long as no one mentions what happened at the doctor's office this morning.

Ethan had his six-year checkup (a mere 3 months after his birthday), and before going in the exam room, the nurse checked his vision by having him read the letters on a vision chart at the end of the hall.

He didn't do particularly well, especially with his left eye.

So we go in the exam room, the doctor completes his checkup and then consults his chart and says, "Oh, I see here Dr. G. recommended that you take Ethan to an eye doctor last year. Did you do that?"

What? Huh? No she didn't. Oh, wait. Oh, crap. That's starting to sound familiar. Oh, you're right she did. "Um, no, we didn't."

See what happened was at the time of his checkup last year, we didn't have any insurance. We knew we would have some a few months later, and he didn't exactly fail the eye exam, and clearly he could see, so we decided to wait until we got insurance and then take him to the optometrist.

Except we forgot. Completely. Until about ten seconds after the pediatrician told me about it this morning.

So yeah, maybe don't mention this particular checkup. Or the time I forgot to pick up Lauren. Or how she was unzipping her jacket and saying, "Hey, good lookin'." Or how many times I've called poison control.

Other than that, I've got this. It's totally in the bag.

1-800-222-1222

2010-09-21T22:38:00.002-04:00

If you're not familiar with that number, ~~you are obviously a better parent than I am~~ you apparently have not had to call Poison Control as many times as I have.

I believe the first was when Joshua was about 6 months old and decided to suck on a dryer sheet.

Then there was the time 4 year-old Ethan made himself vomit from eating an entire tube of toothpaste.

Of course we'll never forget when 3 year-old Lauren drank a bottle of liquid Tylenol. (And I'm sure she'll never forget Supernurse who had to put her in a choke-hold to get her to drink the activated charcoal in the emergency room.)

I've called enough times now that it makes me really nervous when they want to know my name and all my children's ages. I'm just sure they are scanning a Most Wanted list looking for my name.

Nevertheless, laying aside my fear of having my mug-shot hung on a Poison Control window, I had to call again tonight.

PC: How can I help you?

Me: Um, I accidentally left the burner on my gas stove on without a flame. For about five hours.

PC: If the gas was leaking, you would smell it.

Me: Yeah, I do smell it. It's almost nauseatingly strong. My kids are all asleep. Do I need to wake them up and take them outside for fresh air? Please say no, please say no!

PC: Are the windows open?

Me: They are now.

PC: As long as you have the house well-ventilated they should be fine since they're not in the kitchen.

Me: But I can smell the gas upstairs, too. Even in their bedrooms.

PC: As long as no one has a headache or is nauseated or lethargic, they should be fine.

Me: Well, do I need to wake them up? Please say no. (I did make sure they were alive before I called.)

PC: Ahh, it couldn't hurt to wake the up and see how they're doing.

Me: See how they're doing?

PC: Yeah, just make sure they're not acting sick or lethargic.

Me: Make sure my sound-asleep children are not acting lethargic?

PC: As long as the windows are open, they should be fine.

This was without a doubt the least helpful call I have ever made to poison control. As long as my kids are not acting really, really sleepy when I wake them after they've been sleeping for three hours, they should be fine.

"Oh, and don't light any matches."

Thanks, I feel much better now.

Monday weigh-in

2010-09-20T18:33:00.003-04:00

Pounds Down

This week: 2.4
Total: 4.4

I'm thinking it's a good thing I said no to the margarita Saturday night, but I apparently should have said no to the baked potato, too.

How are you doing?

Ramblings on being friends with God

2010-09-19T21:55:00.003-04:00

Lately our church has been singing the song "Friend of God" fairly often. It usually gets the congregation pretty pepped up, and the guy who leads it (T-Love . . . don't ask me. Apparently every person in this town has a nickname, and I'm aware of only a few actual first names.) does a really great job, so I enjoy it.

Today, though, I was moved by it.

"I am a friend of God. HE calls me friend."

Not exactly deep or theologically profound, yet it struck me today that God has only two types of relationships: friend or foe. He said, "You are either for me or against me."

Thanks to the blood of Christ, I am no longer an enemy of God. I am a friend. That means He and I are on the same side.

Wow.

Friend or foe? Those are the only choices. He calls me friend.

It just so happened this morning that after "Friend of God," we sang "Our God Reigns," which I will readily admit is not one of my favorites. I don't generally care for songs with just a line or two repeated over and over. More on that another day.

Today, though, as we sang "Our God Reigns" right after singing, "I am a friend of God," it struck me how incredibly blessed we are to call God friend.

"Our FRIEND reigns," I began to think. I realize it may sound silly, but stay with me.

Have you ever had the unpleasant experience of being at the mercy of someone you thought had it out for you? A boss who didn't like you? A family member who couldn't stand you? You know the knot you get in the pit of your stomach when you just know things are not going to go well for you because you are at the mercy of someone who is against you.

On the other hand, how awesome is it to be good friends with the boss? (In my case, to be married to him!) To know that the person in charge has your back. To know that the "powers that be" are FOR you. No anxiety, no stress, no worries. Things may not always be perfect, but you know that the person in charge is watching out for you and not out to get you.

OUR FRIEND REIGNS.

We are on the same side. He is for me. He is not against me. And He reigns.

I am a friend of God; He calls me friend.

7 (very) Quick Takes Friday

2010-09-17T09:16:00.004-04:00

I love that I have been able to plan my work schedule lately to be home on Fridays. Lauren is in preschool in the morning, the boys are in school, and David is at work. The perfect time to really get the house clean.

Which is exactly what I am doing . . . soon.

It must run in the family. When my mom saw the picture in this post about me and my sunglasses, she burst out laughing and said that she had once done the exact same thing.

In case a quick trip to the DMV wasn't evidence enough, I'm leaning even more strongly toward belief in an "idiot gene" now.

Sometimes it sucks to live an hour away from everything. Like the dry cleaners. I drove an hour to drop off the clothes on Monday, but now I have to figure out when to pick them up. Tomorrow night David and I are going on a double date to the town wherein lie my clothes, but the cleaners closes at 2pm on Saturdays.

Foiled again!

I'm always a little befuddled on my drive over there, too.

Apparently, people in small, northern towns must be reminded to park. So much so that the word "park" is included in the name of just about everything.

Eat-n-Park
Park & Shop
Park & Go

I, in my apparent naivety, have always assumed that the "parking" part was a given, but I guess not.

I particularly like the "Park & Go" in case anyone was confused about whether he was supposed to stay at the convenience store forever. The name doesn't mention shopping or getting gas, though, so imagine how many people must pull in, park, and then go. Just for lack of instruction.

I am looking forward to tomorrow's sunny 72 degrees. I just wish it were not going to be 49 in the morning because morning is when we have our soccer games.

The field where my kids play soccer is in a little valley between several mountains. The surroundings are breathtakingly beautiful, but seriously cold. It's always 10-12 degrees colder at soccer than in my back yard.

Which means no fun tomorrow morning, and it's only gonna go downhill from here. I totally get why soccer ends in mid-October here.

This whine brought to you by the letter "W."

I have ipod envy.

We bought Josh a (used) ipod for his birthday. (Don't tell . . . it's not till October!) It's a 5th Generation.

I've had mine for about four years, so while I don't know what "generation" it is, I do know that in ipod-world, it's ancient. I set Josh's up last night and loaded it with songs, and his is sooo way cooler than mine.

So, just give him the older one and keep the newer one for myself, right?

That's exactly what I would do if mine wasn't hot pink. Yeah, I'm a sucker for pink myself, but I don't think my 8 year-old son would be thrilled about a hot pink ipod.

Right?

Okay, cleaning . . . now.

But if YOU need a diversion from doing what you should be, head over to Conversion Diary and check out more Quick Takes.

Let's Just Be Real, Shall We?

2010-09-15T21:19:00.003-04:00

I hate reading blogs by people who act like they've got it all together. Especially mommy blogs.

And I say "act like" because I just know it's an act. I choose to believe - I have to believe - that it's not truly possible to be a mom and have it all together. It's like a law of physics; the child to brain cell ratio is limited.

So, let me just go ahead and put it out there in case you ~~have never met me~~ haven't realized it yet: I do not have it all together.

There I said it. I often forget little things like going to the post office, making sure we have bread, picking my child up from preschool.

Yes, I did. Totally forgot.

That's why God created children to have two parents, right? One of us is bound to remember. Thank God today it was David.

I was in a meeting with a new client and totally lost track of time, so much so that when David knocked on my office door, poked his head in, and said cryptically, "Do you need me to take care of transport today?" I had NO idea what he was talking about. I thus forced him to resort to the less confidence-in-your-new-lawyer-inspiring, "Did you forget about picking your child up from school?"

Yikes.

All's well that ends well, I guess, and Lauren was picked up by her daddy right on time none-the-wiser.

And I went about my clueless day still not quite having it all together.

As evidenced by the fact that I left my office at lunchtime, put my sunglasses on my face, and walked to my car . . . like this:

It wasn't until I had driven around the corner and glanced in the mirror that I saw the above image reflected back at me. I will admit I burst out laughing at myself and can't believe none of the several people I walked past on the way to my car had not done so as well.

So there you have it.

My name is Becky, and I sometimes forget to pick up my daughter and don't realize that my sunglasses are missing a lens.

Like you're perfect.

Monday Weigh-In

2010-09-13T20:40:00.002-04:00

Pounds down: 2.0

Not bad considering I just started Thursday, right? Ugh.

Miraculous Love

2010-09-12T17:19:00.003-04:00

Last night I heard a speaker talking about today's church. He made a valid point about the church today not walking in the full power that is available to us in Christ through the Holy Spirit. He talked about how our children see "power" in the world when they are bombarded with images of wizardry, witchcraft, and other supernatural powers on television or in books and movies, but that too often they don't witness the power God.

It is a shame, he said, for our children to be exposed only to the powers of darkness and not the power of Light.

I agree with him.

To a point.

I agree that it is important for our children to understand the power of God and to see that power manifest in tangible ways.

However, I think many of us are blind to the fact that we do encounter the miraculous on a regular basis.

Once I did not believe. Now I do.
Once I despaired and lost my hope. My Hope did not lose me.
Once I was broken-hearted. Now I have the joy of the Lord.
Once I was wronged. I forgave, because when I was wrong, I was forgiven.

Who's to say that it's a greater miracle for a lame man to walk than for a wounded heart to be healed?

God did not say, "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you lay hands on someone and her cure her cancer." As awesome as that may be, what He did say was this:

"By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35)

Make no mistake about the power of God that is at work in our hearts in ways we cannot see every time the love of God flows through us. It may not be as fancy and exciting as a blind eye seeing, but it is every bit as powerful.

Probably more.

'Tis But a Moment

2010-09-09T21:06:00.005-04:00

I saw them sitting in Subway yesterday.

I had stopped in to pick up a sandwich for lunch, and when I saw them it was such a jolt that my heart nearly skipped a beat.

I don't know their names, but I do know what I saw: a glimpse of my yesterday.

Sitting at a table by the window was a young mom with three children: two tow-headed toddler boys, looking about 2 and 3 years old, and a baby girl in an infant seat on the table.

It was like seeing a snapshot of my life four years ago. Has it really been that long?

I used to be the mom who everyone smiled at with looks that were half-admiration and half-pity. "You sure have your hands full," I used to hear almost as often as I heard the theme song to "Go, Diego, Go!" With an infant, a one year-old, and a three year-old, there was never much chance of slipping under the radar when we went somewhere.

Now, my kids can order their own Subway sandwiches. They still fight about who sits where and who got more soda, but they know how to behave in a restaurant. I don't have to worry about what they're putting in their mouths or whether they're going to fall out of their chairs. (Of course they are.)

I'm not sure when I went from being a frazzled, inexperienced, young mom to being a frazzled, seasoned, not-as-young (can't say old) mom of older kids. No babies. No toddlers. Only one preschooler left.

A common conversation in our house goes something like this:

Child: Mom, I'm gonna miss the bus.
Me: Alright, hurry up and get out of here, but remember . . . do NOT grow while you are gone, okay?!

I admonish them not to grow while they are brushing their teeth or playing the wii or eating dinner. Thankfully, they still find this amusing, love when I threaten to punish them for growing. I am not unaware of the fact that soon they will roll their eyes and grimace at such childish notions.

I know that time moves relentlessly, and all the wishing in the world won't stop it. I know that just a moment ago I was that mom in Subway with the three tiny children who thought that I would never spend a day (heck, an hour!) alone again. I was she; and now I'm not.

Today I am a mom of three still relatively young children who can read and write and add but who still love climbing in my bed for a cuddle in the morning (or all hours of the night), having me on their team when we play a game, and being read to while snuggled on the sofa. I am a mom whose children still fight to sit next to her and light up over surprise one-on-one time with her.

Today I am that mom; tomorrow I will not be. The moment it happens will be indiscernible, but one day I will look at a mom with children who are 4, 6, and 7, and I will remember these days with a too-tight feeling in my chest and a longing to get today back.

Lord, help me to cherish where I am today. Help me to love my children at exactly the stage they're in because all too soon, it will be gone. Help me to remember that each day that passes with them is one that I will never get back again. Remind me that these children will never again be exactly the age they are today, and I help me to treasure it so that I don't look back and wonder when I lost it.

Thank you for these precious hearts of mine.

123

2010-09-08T17:55:00.000-04:00

That's how much I weighed when we moved to PA last May.

I won't tell you how much I weigh now, but suffice it to say it's more. Much more. In fact I weigh more than I have ever weighed in my entire life other than when I was carrying around another human being inside. I won't tell you how much I weighed then either, but let's just say I was very disappointed when Joshua came out weighing 8lb 8 oz instead of 35 or 40 lbs. That left a LOT of weight that was apparently less "baby" and more "ice cream" and "double-decker taco supreme."

But I lost it all. I weighed less when I got pregnant with Ethan and even less when I got pregnant with Lauren. And I lost the weight quicker after each child. (I'm pretty sure that's inevitable when you have three kids in three years. As I've mentioned before, that requires you to give up a few things . . . like eating and sitting.)

So, why am I writing about this? Because I need motivation to make my clothes fit again. Not my current clothes, but my entire wardrobe from two sizes ago that is currently taking up space on the third floor just waiting to become Lauren's dress-up clothes if I don't fix this.

I know, I know, you've heard this before. Remember I was going to teach kickboxing? And I was going to get in shape before Christmas? And Spring? And Summer?

None of those plans seems to have accomplished much, so I've decided to use this blog for accountability. (I tried having accountability with my mom several months ago, but that was so not enough pressure. Really. She's my mom.)

What's that? You come to my blog for witty stories and meaningful spiritual insights? Or at least pictures?

Sorry. It's my blog, and I'll weigh if I want to.

So, every Monday I am going to report back here with . . . how many pounds I've gone down. (You didn't actually think I was gong to say my weight did you? I tell you what, when I get back to 125, I'll let you know. It will be much less embarrassing after the fact.)

So, starting today, September 8th, pounds down: 0

(Feel free to join me in this weight-loss quest and let me know how you're doing as well. Unless you're already a size 2, and then I'll just have to shoot you.)

All About Lauren

2010-09-08T09:33:00.006-04:00

Today was Lauren's first day of school. Since the day I began inquiring about preschools last summer, I have been hearing about Ms. B. Everyone whose child has ever been in Mrs. B's class talks about her as if she is the goddess of preschool teachers.

Now I know why.

At Open House last week, Mrs. B had all of the kids bring a teddy bear to keep in the classroom for the year. This morning, they were to find their teddy bear and that was their seat in the reading circle.

Mrs. B has a different theme for each month during the school year, and the theme for this month is "Sailing Into September." She personalized a sailor hat for each child and officially pronounced them sailors this morning.

Sailor Lauren (Mrs. B also took pictures of each child to go in the preschool photo album each child's parents will receive at the end of the school year.)

Lauren with Mrs. B (who usually dresses like a normal person but will wear anything for the sake of a fun lesson):

Lauren and her BFF Tori.

One end of the room decorated for this month's Sailor theme.

The other end of the room where the kids have reading and circle time.

I can guess which activity center will quickly be deemed Lauren's favorite:

Another activity center:

Yet another (notice the huge scuba diver on the wall . . . and this is just for this month's theme!):

And another:

The group table where all of the crayons, pencils, etc. are stored in a pirate ship for September:

I cannot tell you how excited Lauren was to start school today. She begged me all day yesterday to let her go ahead and start, apparently not believing me that there would be no one there since school did not start until Wednesday.

I am so thankful for how God has provided for our every need here in PA, not just in a way that is sufficient, but in a way that is perfect and abundant.

In other Lauren news, she is still LOVING soccer:

I love how this picture perfectly captures the essence of Lauren: active, sport-playing, dirt-loving . . . but always wearing a sparkly shirt and a skirt while doing so. She's definitely the only kid on the soccer field wearing a skirt every practice.

There's something a little fishy

2010-08-24T14:28:00.003-04:00

It's our living room! Meet our newest creatures, who shall, for now, remain nameless. Mostly because they, um, don't have any names.

Speaka ze English?

2010-08-23T05:02:00.000-04:00

There's been a lot of talk lately about immigrants needing to learn English. I don't really understand all the hubbub myself. When I'm in a foreign country I find it helpful to have my English-speaking-only self accommodated with a few signs and instructions in my language. So, I don't really mind being instructed to "pulse dos para espanol" when I make a phone call.

In fact, lately I've had a couple of encounters that have confirmed my long-held suspicion that it is not foreigners or immigrants who need help with the English language. It's salespeople and other customer service employees. I think we need a special button for them to press because I do not think we are speaking the same language.

I submit as evidence thereof the following two "conversations:"

Saturday, August 21, 2010 in the hair salon at Walmart:

Sales Girl: Can I help you?
Me: Yes, I'm looking for shampoo without sulfates.
SG: Without what?
Me: Sulfates. I had this crazy expensive keratin protein treatment put on my hair and was told to use only sulfate-free shampoo.
SG: Oh, well, let's see.

We peruse the shelves before finally finding one on the last set of shelves in the salon.

Me: Oh good, it's buy one get one half-off.
SG: No, it's not.
Me: But there's a sign on the shelf that says, "All Pure Results products, Buy One Get One 50% off"
SG: That's only for the products.
Me: Right, the Pure Results products. That's what this is.
SG: No, shampoo is not a product.
Me: Huh?
SG: It doesn't apply to the shampoo and conditioner.
Me: But it's hanging on the shelf that contains nothing but shampoo and conditioner. And they are both Pure Results.
SG: We can put the sign on any shelf we want. Shampoo and conditioner are not products.
Me: Do you know what "product" means?
SG: Product means things like gel and mousse and such.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010 in the Atlanta Airport:

Scene: waiting for the train that carries passengers between terminals and the baggage claim area. Said train normally arrives every 90 seconds, and there is a little digital countdown clock that says how long until the next train. On this particular day, the clock keeps going higher (longer wait) every time it gets under 2 minutes. After standing and watching the countdown clock go up and down for about 4 or 5 minutes, I decide to ask the "attendant" sitting at a little attendant stand nearby if he knew what was going on.

Me: Are the trains not running?
Airport guy: The trains are running.
Me: Do you know how long until the next train gets here because the clock keeps changing?
AG: It'll be here soon.
Me: Don't they normally come every couple of minutes?
AG: It comes every 90 seconds.
Me: But, it's been about five minutes. Do you know what's wrong?
AG: Nothing's wrong with the trains.
Me: Well, do you have any idea when a train might actually come?
AG: The train comes every 90 seconds.

So, I am considering launching some sort of initiative for salesperson language training. Or at least a button I can press when I speak to them so that we are both using the same language.

Maybe "Press two for idiot?"

Good Things

2010-08-21T17:33:00.005-04:00

I love these kids. Sometimes I look at them, especially the three on the end, and my heart is so full it could burst.

This is it, I think to myself. This is what life is all about. Could there be anything better?

The answer to that is yes. There is something much better. Someone at least.

I find that I'm often satisfied with the things this life has to offer. Friends, family, food, laughter, beaches, campfires, sunsets, music, love. There are so many good things in this life I'm living that it's sometimes easy to be satisfied with the earthly version of God's good gifts.

I'm reminded of taking my boys to play games at the arcade when they were preschoolers. I didn't even have to put quarters in because they were content to steer and maneuver while the game was in demo mode. The glaring, all-caps "Please Insert Token" didn't diminish their enjoyment in the slightest.

They were completely satisfied with a fake game, never even knowing that there was a "real" version.

God has filled the world with His goodness, surrounded us with glimpses of Himself. When I stop and think about it, most everything good in life can be seen sort of as a "fake" version of the "real" good thing - the ONLY good thing - God.

We build friendships and learn that there is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother.

We fall in love and get married and realize we have a Bridegroom who loves us with an everlasting love.

We become parents and know the depth of a Father's love more fully than ever.

We create and get a glimpse of a Creator's heart.

What the Holy Spirit has been prompting me to remember lately is that the things God has given us, the oh-so-good things with which He has surrounded us, were never meant to satisfy. They were meant to make me hunger for the Giver of all good things.

"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." (Romans 1:20-21)

May I never be satisfied with the gifts but treasure them as merciful glimpses of a good and gracious Giver.

Morning Checklist

2010-08-02T14:03:00.001-04:00

1. Daughter up all night with a sore throat I hope is not strep . . . check
2. Dining room table full of breakfast dishes I don’t have time to clean up . . . check
3. Front porch (carpeted) full of nasty smelling water and dead crayfish my son knocked over this morning . . . and which I do not have time to clean up . . . check
4. Purse full of giant plastic motorcycles and horses keeping me from being able to find my freakin’ keys . . . check
5. Headache . . . double check

Seeking Shadow

2010-07-30T13:20:00.003-04:00

Yes, I'm writing about the dog again.

Shadow seems to really love our home. Nevertheless, he has run away approximately six times now.

Last week was one of those occasions. I was in the backyard (cleaning up dog poop, what else?) when one of the kids opened the back door, and Shadow bolted out like greased lightning.

Knowing I had no chance of simply catching him, I went in the house and gathered my supplies: a leash to lead him home, a hot dog to lure him, and a knife to cut the hot dog into toss-able pieces. I grabbed the first sharp knife I saw, which was a Cutco steak knife.

So, there I was walking around the neighborhood with a leash, a hot dog, and a steak knife . . . but no dog. After ten minutes without a sign of him, I loaded the kids and the supplies into the van so we could drive around and look for him. Half an hour later, we sadly returned home having seen neither hide nor hair of Shadow.

Naturally, as we pulled up to the house, Shadow came bounding around the corner onto our street and happily returned inside the house. The kids were ecstatic.

Later that afternoon, Josh was trying to find the leash to take the dog back out. I told him I had probably left it in the van.

He came in with the leash and a very concerned look on his face and asked, "Mom, why do you have a steak knife in the van?"

"Oh, I forgot about it. I took it in case I needed to cut up hot dog pieces to lure Shadow to me."

Relief literally washed over the face of my son, who like Eeyore, who has the ability to anticipate the worst-possible outcome to every scenario.

"Whew! I thought it was because if you found Shadow hurt, you might have to kill him."

Yes, son, I was going to put the dog out of his misery . . . with a six-inch steak knife.

Happy Anniversary, my love

2010-07-29T09:26:00.002-04:00

This is a poem David wrote for me while we were dating. Just one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. Happy anniversary, my love. Now you're a published poet.

Take Five

2010-07-26T22:38:00.003-04:00

My life in five quick takes:

1.
For those of you who have asked, Ethan is doing very well. He feels just fine and seems to be suffering no ill effects from the accident. I told a friend tonight that I'm amazed at how active he can be without riding a bike, running, jumping, or climbing trees. He spends a lot of time in the creek catching crawdads.

2.
The kids set up a stand on the sidewalk last week to sell their crawdads. They made signs that said, "Crayfish: 2 for 25 cents." When they informed me of this plan, I told them not to get their hopes up because no one was going to buy their crayfish.

Boy was I wrong. They sold 8 of them. They also added lemonade to their inventory and managed to make almost $25. (This was split between my kids and the neighbors who were also involved in this joint venture.)

3.
I would LOVE to show you pictures of said crayfish/lemonade stand, but I am having a problem with my SD card. For some reason, my computer cannot find any data on it even though when it's in my camera, the pictures appear just fine.

I am about as literate in computers as I am in Swahili, so the information I'm finding on my google searches is less than helpful. Something about drivers, but I don't think they are referring to cars or golf clubs.

4.
I am officially retiring from my 13 month volleyball career tonight. For the sake of myself and my fellow players, I am done. This has mostly to do with the fact that I'm pretty irrelevant to most of the plays, but my swansong happened to coincide with jamming or breaking or stoving my left index finger.

Are you familiar with the term stove as a verb? Meaning sprain? Me either.

Someone wrote this to me in a text a few months ago ("I stoved my wrist"), and I figured it was a typo. Then tonight David kept saying I stoved my finger. Huh?

5.
Have I mentioned that I'm in physical therapy for my back? It's been getting worse and worse for the past few months, and now that I'm in physical therapy, it's getting even worse.

Yay.

Since my first appointment, my PT has diagnosed me with a rotated vertebra, a degenerative disc, and a hypermobile sacro-iliac joint. All at different appointments.

I'm not sure if she keeps finding new things or if she was just wrong on all the first counts. Oh well, at least she's helping my pain get worse, so I'm getting something for my money, right?

Catch Up

2010-07-22T12:04:00.003-04:00

I've sat down to play catch up on my blog about five times in the past week, but I never quite make it all the way to there. I'm not sure how much of it is being too busy to write and how much is just not really having much to say. (I know, very un-Beck-like.)

Speaking of un-Beck-like, last night I was lying in bed talking to David, and I kept being unable to retrieve from my brain the words I needed. We were talking about Trinitarianism and baptism (no, this is not normal fare for our late night conversing). I had a thought in my head, but I kept mangling it as I tried to put it into words. Fortunately, David is smart enough that he only needs minor prompts and can figure the rest out himself, so he put into words exactly what I was trying to say. (See why I married him?)

I then started to tell him something else, but it just seemed like too much trouble.

I said, "That's it; I've run out of words for today."

He was shocked and, I dare say, a little pleased.

With any luck, a little sleep should have refueled my word-tank, so let me tell you about the biggest change in our household in the past few weeks.

W got a dog.

Yes, you read that right. If you've been reading my blog for a long time, you may remember the Hearsay fiasco. Suffice it to say, our last attempt at becoming dog-owners proved short-lived.

But since I'm a slow learner, I thought we'd try it again.

The new dog's name is Shadow, but I'm thinking we should have named him Greased Lightning. He's fast.

He sees a crack in the baby gate blocking the stairs, and he bolts like lightning. He sees a sock lying unprotected in a corner, and he's as hard to catch as a greased pig. Heaven help you if you drop a stuffed animal or a pair of underwear from the laundry basket.

I assume he needs to chew simply because he's a puppy. I choose to believe this because it means a.) he will grow out of it someday and b.) he will grow out of it someday. He will grow out of it someday, right?

How sad is it that I found myself trying to outwit him this morning. He had chewed up all of his rawhides and was completely uninterested in his rope toy, so when I was at the grocery store I picked up a couple more rawhides and a new rubber toy.

But I'm no fool.

I know he has no interest in toys that he's allowed to have, toys made for dogs. He wants Lauren's baby dolls and Josh's G.I. Joes and my curtains. So, instead of giving him the new rubber toy, I nonchalantly knocked it off the counter, and then when he started to pick it up, I took it from him and acted like he wasn't supposed to have it.

I know, I know, this will probably undermine efforts to train him, but I was desperate. I really needed to unload my dishwasher.

So, after I took it from him a few times I threw it into the living room, and he darted after it and chewed on it for more than ten minutes.

My name is Becky, and I am smarter than a dog.

Update on Ethan

2010-06-24T19:51:00.002-04:00

(For those of you who don't know, Ethan crashed on his bike on Monday and lacerated his liver. He was life-flighted out of our town to a hospital with a trauma center 2.5 hrs away and spent the past a couple of days in the ICU. He had a stage 3 (out of 5) tear, but thankfully, did not require surgery. Here's the latest.)

We are home! :)

This week has been an experience I never want to have again, but I am so thankful for how it turned out. Ethan is okay, and we are out of the hospital.

After three days in the bed, he was climbing the walls today, full of energy and so ready to be up and around. When he literally put the back of his hospital bed as upright as it would go and began scaling it like Mt. Everest, his nurse let him out of the room to wander the hospital with me a bit. They had the best children's facility I have ever seen . . . playrooms, aquariums, outside decks, a dvd player and playstation in every room (dvd's and games were available free in a redbox type kiosk), and they even brought in a wii to his ICU room one day.

He is doing great now and not in any pain. Unfortunately he is on severe activity restriction for the next three months. No running, jumping, bike riding, rough-housing . . . anything that could cause his liver to bleed again. So that will make for a tough summer, but considering the alternative, we'll make do and be thankful.

The hospital went all out for his birthday today. The cafeteria sent him a cupcake with a card, a guy came by with a guitar and sang happy birthday to him, and the nurses made him a banner and gave him three wrapped gifts. Oh, and a root beer float!

His birthday notwithstanding, the hospital was just fantastic in the first place. In the ICU, he was given a shoebox-sized container full of activities and toys (a slinky, coloring books/crayons, matchbox cars, playdough), and then a volunteer came by and gave him a fleece blanket (his choice of colors) and a Batman pillow case. He got to bring everything home with him. (Unfortunately, when we got home, Joshua saw it all and said, "I can't wait 'till I get to be in the hospital!")

I have a new appreciation for children's hospitals and the people/groups who donate things to them. What a difference it makes to a child stuck in such a frightening, strange, and uncomfortable place. I will begin making donations myself in the very near future and encourage you to do the same.

I cannot thank you all enough for your prayers and support this week. It has meant the world to me and has been so encouraging to hear. I showed Ethan a Facebook thread and all the comments on it and told him that all those people were praying for him. He said, "Do you think there's 100 of them???!!" I told him at least. Thank you for giving that gift of encouragement to him and letting him know how much he is valued.

Logic is not their stong suit

2010-06-06T17:22:00.002-04:00

As evidence thereof I offer the following two conversations:

#1.

Lauren: "Mommy, can I have a treat?"

Me: No, you already had ice cream today.

L: But, I reeeaaally need something sweet!

M: No, you may not have any more sweets today.

L: How about just a lollipop?

M: No.

L: I know!! How about one of those cookies I don't like? (We have chewy chips ahoy in the
cabinet, and we all agree they are terrible.)

M: No, it's still a sweet.

L: But, mommy, I don't even like them!!

I had to shake my head at her logic and cringe at her obvious sugar addiction.

#2.

Joshua: "Mom, come watch what I can do," he says as he jumps off the side of our porch and over our HUGE rhododendron bushes.

Me: Um, that doesn't look very safe, Bud.

Josh: Can you believe I can do that??!

Me: No, I'm definitely surprised. It looks sort of unsafe, though.

J: I know. I pray every time I jump.

M: Josh, if you have to pray that you don't get hurt doing something, it's probably not a good idea to do it.

J: Can I keep doing it please? I won't pray this time!

Working for what's already mine

2010-06-03T20:22:00.005-04:00

He begged for a cap gun.

He got one for his birthday last year, and it broke several months ago. Having recently stumbled upon the remaining caps, Joshua began his quest to obtain a new one.

We saw one in Dollar General a couple of weeks ago, and he begged me to buy it for him. I told him no, that he would have to buy it himself. He begged, bartered, and pleaded. "If you buy it for me now, I'll pay you back when I get the money."

No, you have to have the money in order to buy it.

For the past two weeks, he's schemed and plotted how to come up with the money. On Monday, he was very close . . . only fifty cents shy of the necessary amount. Still, much to his dismay, I would not loan him the rest.

What he did not know is that I had already bought him the cap gun.

Joshua and Ethan were both recognized for having perfect behavior for the whole school year. Not a single color strip, which is the system of discipline used by their school. I thought an entire year of perfect behavior merited a small reward, so I bought them each one of the coveted cap guns to give them when school got out.

Meanwhile Joshua was begging for a loan, lamenting his lack of earning capacity, and just plain feeling sorry for himself.

Because he wasn't able to purchase a gun that someone had already purchased for him.

All he had to do was wait. Just be patient and wait. The prize had already been secured. All of his striving was in vain because the treasure he sought was already his . . . he just couldn't see it yet.

How much like me does that sound? Begging and striving and pleading when God wants me to wait.

To rest.

To be still and know that He is God.

I thought of two verses of one of my favorite hymns based on Psalm 130:

To wash away the crimson stain,
Grace, grace alone availeth;
Our works, alas! Are all in vain;
In much the best life faileth;
No man can glory in Thy sight,
All must alike confess Thy might,

And live alone by mercy
(Live alone by mercy)
And live alone by mercy
(Live alone by mercy)

Therefore my trust is in the Lord,
And not in mine own merit;
On Him my soul shall rest, His word
Upholds my fainting spirit;
His promised mercy is my fort,
My comfort and my sweet support;

I wait for it with patience
(Wait for it with patience)
I wait for it with patience
(Wait for it with patience)

(Click here for the rest of the lyrics or on the above link to listen.)

Wednesday in Pictures

2010-06-02T14:59:00.003-04:00

Fist things first. Ethan lost his first tooth the other night. I am happy about how thrilled he is, but I am sad that his little baby-toothed grin is on its way out.

This is Joshua before school this morning. He likes to be ready ten minutes before the bus comes so he has time to read a little Magic Treehouse.

Today was Field Day. I LOVED watching the boys "compete" in the different events, have their faces painted, and hang out with their best friends.

But, most of all, I loved watching them dance. Picture this scene in a cafeteria full of 5, 6, and 7 year olds with insanely loud techno-type music blaring in the background. They loved it

Josh's favorite style of dance is the Russian fold-your-arms-across-your-chest-and-kick-your-legs.

Ethan loves a good old-fashion breakdance.

Field Day 2010 is over. Half-day of school tomorrow, and we are done!

7 Quick Takes

2010-05-28T07:00:00.000-04:00

I think it's possible that I have not fully given my heart to this new town 100%. Oh, I like it here, and I've thrown myself into making friendships and building relationships and all that jazz.

What I haven't done is let go of buttons # 1 and 2 on the pre-set radio stations in my van. Since moving here I have made the local station #3 and have changed the others when needed to use my ipod Monster, but I won't reset #'s 1 and 2 from my favorite Georgia stations. Never mind that when I go home I fly, so my van has not touched Georgia soil in over a year.

I just can't seem to let those two buttons go.

After weeks of increasing pain in one of my back teeth, I finally saw the dentist last week. Cavity? Nope. Abscess? Negative. Stress? Yep.

"Do you clench your teeth?" he asked.
"Um, yes."
"Stop," he offered ever so helpfully.

Actually, he did offer me some muscle relaxers if the problem is that I clench them in my sleep, but no, that's not the problem.

I clench them all the time.

As I sit here typing, my teeth are clenched. As soon as I notice, I unclench them, but it's only a matter of minutes - maybe seconds? - before they are clenched again.

So, sure, I'll just stop clenching them.

As I was cutting up watermelon tonight, Lauren was circling and begging like a poorly-trained puppy. I gave her a bite, and she said, "Mmmmmm, I just can't trust watermelon!"

What?

"Watermelon is soooo good, I just can't trust it."

Do you mean you can't "resist" it?

"Oh yeah, I can't resist it."

Four more days of school!

My boys got their very first genuine buzz-cuts today. I love it. They look adorable, and I will not have to comb their hair for weeks.

Joshua was less than thrilled when I told them I was taking them to get their hair buzzed really short. I proffered that it would keep them cool in the summer heat.

He said, "Do you shave your head in the summer to keep cool?"

Touche, my boy.

After I convinced him that there was no way I was going to let him have dreadlocks or a mohawk, he agreed that the buzz-cut was probably a good idea.

"But when I'm an adult," he said, "I'm gonna have dreadlocks . . . AND I'm gonna buy an axe."

Because, you know, that's what adulthood is all about.

The kids are all upstairs with David watching G.I. Joe (the old cartoons, not the new inappropriate-for-children movie) as I am typing this. I am hearing all manner of fussing and crying and yelling at the moment. I love it when daddy's on duty.

We had a fantastic time at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh last weekend.

They had dozens of "life-size" dinosaur skeletons. (This is Lauren's "fighting a t-rex" pose.)

A canoe in the Native American section:

The kids were able to use chisels and brushes and dig for dinosaur bones in a model quarry.

There was also a section where you could watch through the glass as employees they worked on the bones and other fossils. The kids loved watching this, and Joshua said, "Mom, I can't wait 'till I grow up so I can be a paleontologist."

It's what he's always wanted to be.

Check out Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes.

Let's Go, Beck! Let's Go, Beck!

2010-05-24T08:10:00.004-04:00

(This title is meant to be chanted while clapping in rhythm with the words.)

I've decided that what I need (in addition to a maid, a personal chef, and some new white capris) is a cheering section. Yep, that's definitely what's missing in my life.

As I was watching a professional baseball game Saturday night, it occurred to me that it must be way easier, not to mention much more fun, to find the motivation to do one's job when there are thousands of people cheering you on.

Because, let's be honest, baseball is their job. They are not just out there to have fun; they are being paid obscene amounts of money to catch the ball and to make a hit. It's their job.

Yet, we chant and clap and stomp our feet - and pay a person in a mascot uniform to get people even more hyped up - all to encourage and support the millionaires on the field as they do their jobs.

Don't misunderstand me. I love baseball. I love the watching and the cheering and the sights and sounds and smells of it all. I've even taught my boys some serious trash-talking.

It's not that I think we should stop cheering for the professional athletes; au contraire, I think they are seriously on to something.

Imagine if we had cheering fans encouraging to the rest of us at our jobs:

Woo-hoo!! Go, Beck!! Come on, put that laundry away. Awesome job!!

Go Beck, go Beck, go Beck, draft that Motion to Compel. Aw, nice try anyway. You'll get it done next time!

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!

Not only that, but imagine the mascot possibilities. A giant spatula. An ironing board. Ooh-ooh, how about one of those lovesick brooms from the Swiffer commercials. And those are just for my at-home job. At work, I could use a giant talking gavel or even a file folder since that's what I spend most of my day working on.

(If you'd like to apply for the position of Beck's personal mascot, leave me a comment telling me which costume you'd prefer. This is a non-paid position, and I do not discriminate on the basis of race, creed, or religious affiliation; however, I do discriminate on the basis of personality, sense of humor, sports affiliation, dress, intelligence, and hairstyle.)

Yes, I definitely think professional athletes are on to something. Oh, and let's not forget, they charge people money to do this.

However, because I am abounding in generosity, I will offer free admission to my cheering section for the first dozen fans. I'll let you know when David's done installing the bleachers in my dining room.

Heck, maybe you should come cheer him on.

My little traitors

2010-05-23T20:45:00.003-04:00

I carried them for nine months. Nine months during which I was in and out of the hospital due to such severe morning sickness that I couldn't stay hydrated without i.v. fluids. With one of them, I wore a subcutaneous pump because I couldn't survive without the medication it delivered continuously through a needle in my leg. Then there was the whole labor and delivery thing.

Not only that. I've bathed them, fed them, and wiped their little rear ends more times than I could possibly count.

I arranged for a weekend trip to Pittsburgh during which they would miss a day of school, see dinosaur bones at the Carnegie museum, and go to a Braves vs. Pirates game.

How do they repay me?

By rooting for the Pirates.

It's just the name. Not swayed by my explanation that braves were Indian warriors, they just think the Pirates have a cooler name.

So, if you hear me telling my kids that Atlanta's baseball team's real name is the Atlanta Man-Eating Savage Velociraptors of Death Braves, you'll know why.

Despite the betrayal, a good time was had by all, though Josh is always embarrassed to have his picture taken in public:

Lauren Singing

2010-05-15T23:14:00.003-04:00

Here is Lauren practicing some of the songs her k-3 class will be singing at the preschool graduation ceremony next week.

Her Royal Highness

2010-05-15T09:02:00.003-04:00

I'm beginning to think perhaps I let Lauren spend too much time dressed like a princess. It's rare to see her at home dressed in anything other than a princess gown or a ballerina tutu. The following interactions have led me to think that perhaps that tiara is sinking into her head a little too far.

#1

I'm unloading the dishwasher when I hear, "I'm waaaaiting!" Having not even seen Lauren enter the kitchen, I have no idea what she's talking about. I turn to find her standing at the door with her hands full, apparently wanting me to open it so she can go outside.

Pardon??

#2

Getting dressed for school this week:
Me: Lauren, go put on your brown shoes.
L: Mommy, I don't want to wear those because they're sort of boyish. (her description for anything that is not pink, purple, or sparkly)
M: They're not boyish, Lauren; they have butterflies on them.
L: Well . . . . here's the thing . . . they are brown. And brown . . . . is just not for me.

It's almost like it's not safe to live anywhere

2010-05-03T10:36:00.003-04:00

These are just a few of the criminal activities that plagued our area this week. Try not to shudder.

Woman Got Unwanted Phone Calls
Troopers investigated a complaint Friday between 6:00 pm and 9:30 pm on W.E. Road in E. Township.

M. Simmons, of E., PA, complained a known person was making unwanted phone calls to her. She declined prosecution in this case.

Theft by Deception

K. State Police are investigating an incident of THEFT BY DECEPTION that occurred between February 1 and April 30 at a location off of S. Road in E. Township, M. County.

Actors cut timber from property of H. Martin, Jr, without compensating him . This is a continuing investigation.

S.M., age 43
Charged by PSP on 4-30-10 with PEDESTRIANS UNDER INFLUENCE.

Actor(s) Drove Through Woods Knocking Down Trees

Last weekend, unknown actor(s) damaged the dash panel of a Case bulldozer to gain access to the ignition, and then drove the bulldozer a short distance through the woods , knocking down and damaging several trees. The actor then left the bulldozer and fled the scene.

The incident occurred on a gas line road, off of M. Road in W. Township, P. County. The bulldozer is owned by NFS Corp.

Anyone who has the rest of the story is encouraged to contact PSP. Trooper J.C. is the investigator.

Property Damaged In Village of R.

C. State Police are investigating a report of damage to a wooden lattice at a property on L. Creek Road in R. that occurred between 4-23 and 4-26.

An unknown individual damaged a 8 foot by 2 foot section of wooden lattice at 13 L. Creek Road, owned by J.B. of C., PA. The Criminal Mischief remains under investigation.

Opening Day

2010-05-02T19:43:00.004-04:00

Today was the first game of t-ball season, and how lucky were we to get on the team with shirts that match these beautiful blue eyes?

Sorry, once I started taking their picture, I couldn't stop. I cannot tell you how much I love these faces.

Yard Sal

2010-05-01T18:57:00.005-04:00

So said the sign Josh and Ethan hung on our fence today.

It's Maple Festival time around here, which means our town becomes even more Stars Hollow-like than it already was. (Think modern-day Mayberry, for those of you who do not have the viewing habits of a 13 year-old girl and were, therefore, not fans of Gilmore Girls.)

Our town square is transformed into a gauntlet of booths with vendors hawking everything from food to jewelry to artwork to toys to all-things maple. Seriously, not just maple syrup but maple bark, maple-coated nuts (of every variety), maple ice cream, maple cotton candy, maple butter, maple sugar. . . this is starting to sound like Forrest Gump.

The gazebo in the town square is the center of the festivities, so it's where one can witness the live music, the crowning of the Maple Queen, and the pet parade.

No, I am not making this stuff up. Truth is, I actually enjoyed it. It's fun to live in a town where we can walk over to the courthouse lawn and have a fun time with our kids and see all of our friends and neighbors. And their pets.

So, what does a yard sale have to do with this? Well, in our town whenever there are festivities, there are yard sales. Lots and lots of yard sales.

My kids decided they wanted to partake of the capitalist love and sell some of their toys. Or at least their sibling's toys.

They spent an hour and a half "selecting" toys to sell, toys which almost inevitably belonged to someone else. Since no one was willing to part with anything treasured, the final inventory consisted of about six happy meal toys and a couple of movies they don't like.

I know, you wish you lived here so you could be the proud new owner of not one, but two, plastic robot arms without a body.

I convinced them that $1 was probably too much for each toy, so they changed their pricing label: (The yellow box has 1$ scratched out, and the yellow one says, "10¢ a peec.")

Not to be deterred by a meager inventory, they set up a table in the front yard and began hawking their wares. For about twenty minutes.

Thank you, John W., for driving by and having your daughter pay $2 for a matchbox car. It brought their total sales up to exactly, um, $2.

I don't think he gets it

2010-04-27T18:15:00.005-04:00

See all these pine cones? They used to be in someone else's yard.

Here's how they got in our yard.

Joshua had one of his cousins over to play last week, and they asked me if they could take the wagon down the street a ways. Sure, said I, thinking they wanted to pull each other.

I checked on them a little while later and saw them a few houses away with pine cones in the wagon. Unfortunately, I did not give it much thought; I had primarily been confirming their whereabouts.

Some time later they came in the house, whereupon Josh and I had the following conversation:

J: Mom, you should see how many pine cones John and I collected.

Me: Really? From where?

J: Down the street. Mom, can we have some money for doing that?

Me: Where are the pine cones now?

J, pointing out our window: Right out there.

Me: In our yard??!

J: Yes. So, will you pay us?

Me: Let me see if I understand this. You want me to pay you for taking pine cones that WERE in someone else's yard and PUTTING them in our yard so now WE have a giant pine cone mess we did not have before?

J: Um . . . yeah?

Me: No.

J: Well, if we clean it up, then will you pay us?

Quick Updates

2010-04-24T20:59:00.004-04:00

1. I'm in the process of painting my dining room. I'm pretty sure I may be the worst painter ever, but my price was so good I couldn't refuse. Before and after pictures to follow soon. And by soon I mean when I finish sometime in the next week to year.

2. My kids all have their own beds, but tonight they have chosen to share one double bed. All three of them with their never-ending don't touch me and he's too close and she won't stop looking at me's all day long. Yeah, this is gonna work out for sure.

3. Remember the love-affair I had with a GPS last summer? My heart led me astray again this week, but this time it ended badly. Very badly. I will share the sordid details once I have managed to put the pieces of my heart back together again.

4. For those of you who don't know me on Facebook: Yesterday Lauren got out some scissors and paper while I was painting the dining room. I asked her what she was cutting, and she replied, "Can't tell you. But trust me, it'll be impressive!" I found her use of the word impressive pretty impressive.

5. I just cannot get enough of Spring. The flowers, the sunshine, the birds. This little guy was splashing around in a mud puddle in our front yard this afternoon. I couldn't get the camera in time to snap him in the water, but he hung around in a tree for a while so I could snap a shot of his cute little red-headed self I'm sure.

It's not a great shot, but getting a better one would have required leaving my porch, which would have required putting on shoes, which would have required . . . well, you get the idea. I'm as lazy a photographer as I am a blogger.

You're a Toilet-head

2010-04-19T23:01:00.004-04:00

While I was painting some trim in my dining room this weekend, my kids were entertaining themselves by listening to songs from my ipod. At one point, I heard the beginning of a song that is not really appropriate for children. (It's nothing terrible; it's just an old rock song that I think may have a bad word or two in it.) So, I told the kids to skip forward to the next song.

Joshua: Why?
Me: Because I think that song may have some not nice words in it.
Joshua: Like what?
Me: Well, I'm not going to say them. I don't want you to hear them; that's why I said to skip the song.
Lauren, very confidently: Oh, IIII know. It's going to say "I don't love you" and "You're a toilet-head," right mommy?
Me: Something like that, sweetie.

Perspective

2010-04-16T23:46:00.004-04:00

Have you ever tried to explain God? To use words - letters strung together - to describe the holy, omnipotent Creator of all things?

Have you tried to explain acts of God? To ascertain why He caused or allowed certain things to happen but prevented others? To make sense of what He is doing?

I thought of this today as I was dropping Lauren off at the babysitter's house so I could go to work. She was protesting having to stay there and trying to think of a way to get to go with me. (Just for the record, she loves going to the sitter's house and did not want to leave when I picked her up 2.5 hours later.)

Her final attempt was this: "I'll go to work and you stay here."

So I asked her, "What would you do if you went to work for me? What do you think I'm going to do when I get to my office?"

After some vague answers about doing "important stuff" and talking to "work people," she finally decided that I would be "typing and calling somebody on the phone."

Pretty accurate. So I probed further.

Me: "Who do you think I will call?"
L: "Mr. W." (another attorney in town who used to work with David)
"And what will I type?"
"Letters."
"What will the letters say?"
"Hmmmm . . . Dear Mr. W. and Dear Mrs. Bacon (which cracked her up) and Dear Paige and Dear Tyler . . . Everybody loves cotton candy and sugar. And we all love hair and teeth. Love, Rebecca R."

When I thought about it later, it occurred to me that I probably sound just as hilariously off-base when I try to explain things of God.

Lauren's answers are based on her experience. She has seen me type and talk on the phone and when she tries to think of really important things, sadly she comes up with cotton candy and sugar. (As if the two weren't redundant.) She has a limited understanding because she has a limited experience.

"Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! “Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?" Romans 11:33-34

Lauren has no idea what I am doing when I sit in my office, and truth be told, I have no idea what God is doing upon His throne. May I be as unfettered by worry and concern as she is, knowing that the One who does know is running the show.

7 Quick Takes

2010-04-16T07:16:00.001-04:00

I am slow.

I used to be fast. I ran the 400 meter dash on my high school track team. I could score points in ultimate frisbee or evade a pursuer in capture-the-flag. My feet were swift.

Today I raced my 7 year-old, and he won. We raced again a few hours later, and we tied but only because the race ended. If it had lasted a few more feet, he would have won. Again.

I cannot believe I am slower than a first grader.

I hope I'm still smarter then a 5th grader.

When we got home from our after dinner walk/run, David was ~~mocking me mercilessly~~ trying to analyze how it is that Josh was able to beat me. I realized that I had been wearing blue jeans during both races.

"Josh," I said as he walked up onto the porch where David and I were sitting, "if I hadn't been wearing jeans I would have beaten you."

"With what?" he replied.

I'm still laughing.

My flowers are blooming!! This is what the bed in front of my house looks like right now:

Spring is here. For today at least. I think next week we're back to highs in the 40's. But for today, beautiful today, I am thankful for Spring.

Of course, with the beautiful flowers comes another unwelcome sign of Spring.

Bees.

Ethan has had a couple of run-ins with the buzzy little creatures, but he has not been bitten. Nevertheless, every night when I put him to bed, this is what he asks me to pray: that the bees won't sting him or come in his window and that he won't dream about bees or feel like there's a bee in his shirt.

Yes, all of that. Every night. And he reminds me if I forget one.

He also says, "Period" at the end of every prayer these days. Apparently, he's learned that one ends a sentence with a period, and he likes it better than Amen.

"Dear God, thank you for my family and my friends. Help me have good dreams. In Jesus's name, period."

Oh, I almost forgot. Breaking news. Ethan has two loose teeth.

I think I'm going to cry. For two reasons.

One, I love smiles full of baby teeth. They are so cute and precious and not awkwardly half child/half grown-up.

Two, I'm the worst tooth fairy ever. Not only do I always forget to trade the tooth for money, I can't seem to keep up with the teeth afterward. Joshua wants to see all of the teeth he's lost (not surprising from the kid who tries to collect his hair as it falls from the barber's scissors), and I don't know what I've done with most of them.

Hanging my head in shame . . . again.

Don't forget to head over to Conversion Diary to check out more QuickTakes.

New art from Josh

2010-04-13T18:42:00.003-04:00

Joshua finished his most recent picture today, and I realized I never did post a picture of his last one.

Last month he drew this pirate ship:

Today he finished this sea turtle:

(Sorry for the glare - I already put them in frames because I don't trust myself not to ruin them.)

Who said?

2010-04-11T22:49:00.006-04:00

"Who said?"

This is almost always my children's first response when one of their siblings gives them an instruction.

"Josh, don't go past the fence."
"Who said?"

It's never enough simply to be told something; they must know whence the instruction came. Obviously, being told not to color the front door with sidewalk chalk is one thing if your little sister is doing the telling, quite another if it came from mom.

I was thinking about this as I was praying recently.

I've had a tough week. A week where I yelled at my kids more often than I should. A week where I shuffled them from room to room and task to task more often than I interacted with and engaged them. A week where I barked at them more than I listened to them. Where my relief at the boys going to school or Lauren going to the sitter was more acute than I like to admit.

Sometimes after a week - or even a day - like that I feel like I must be the worst mom ever. A complete and utter failure as a parent.

And, if being a parent is the most important role of my life - more important than the house, the job, the friendships - wouldn't that pretty much just make me a failure . . . period?

After a week where it seemed like I had taken the parenting test and been found sorely lacking, those thoughts reverberated through my head, a condemnation that can be difficult to ignore.

That's when I thought of that question, so frequently uttered in this house: "Who said?"

It occurred to me that my kids were not the first to ask this. No, it turns out yours were not either, nor were our grandparents or their many ancestors.

God asked it first.

In Genesis 3, after Adam and Eve had eaten the forbidden fruit, God found them hiding from him because they were naked and afraid. God's response? "Who told you you were naked?"

The source matters.

Who tells me I'm a failure? Surely not the God who said I am more than a conqueror.

Who says I can't do this? Surely not the Savior who said that through Him I can do all things.

Who whispers in my ear that I'm not good enough? Surely not my Redeemer who promised that I am accepted in the beloved.

Who convinces me that I'm not adequate for this task? Surely not my Creator who said He would accomplish His purpose in me until the end of time.

"Finally . . . whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Philippians 4:8 (emphasis mine)

Lord, help me to remember that the promises You give to me are true, and the lies of the enemy are not. May I always check the source of my thoughts and focus on the Truth that comes from Your voice alone.

Snippets of Spring

2010-04-11T22:20:00.003-04:00

That's what we seem to have around here.

Tuesday was a gorgeous, ride-your-bike-in-your-nightgown kind of day. (If you're four and own an Ariel nightgown; otherwise, flannel pants and a t-shirt are probably more prudent.)

We reveled in the beauty of Spring in our front yard.

Of course, not all of the bushes had flowers yet, but Lauren tried to fix that with a little floral relocation:

That was on Tuesday. On Friday we awoke to this:

I'm choosing to be thankful for the snippets, however brief they may be.

(Is it too much to ask that you take the same perspective on my blog as I'm taking on Spring?)

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T14:51:00.004-04:00

Happy Easter from our family!

McViking

2010-04-01T18:29:00.005-04:00

I couldn't bear the thought of messing up my hard-earned clean kitchen tonight, so we decided just to pick up some food for dinner. The boys chose McDonald's because they have dragon/viking merchandise in the happy meals right now. Even the box turns into a viking helmet:

Joshua was giddy with excitement about it, as he is about most anything that can be a costume. Until he looked in the mirror.

Josh: I don't really look like a viking.
David: What do you look like?
Josh: I look like a guy with a happy meal box on my head.

Lauren did not let having chosen Subway deter her from joining in on the viking fun:

7 Quick Takes

2010-04-01T15:35:00.007-04:00

Since tomorrow is Good Friday, I decided to go ahead and do a few Quick Takes today so that I can write something more contemplative tomorrow.

Lauren loves to beat around on the piano and make up songs. Yesterday she was playing with even more gusto than normal, and when she finished I asked her what that song was called.

Her answer: "Vedree, Why Don't You Take Care of Your Baby?"

If I didn't know better, I'd think my four year-old daughter was a script writer for the Ma.ury Pov.ich show.

I made these cupcakes for Joshua's class yesterday. I probably don't have to tell you that they were a huge hit.

I was feeling like a domestic failure because I tried to make bunny-shaped cookies, but let's just say they did not turn out. Cookies they were. Bunny-shaped they were not.

In my defense, the recipe called for malted milk powder. Who the heck has that on hand? Not me. Most people could probably just run to the store and locate some, but then again, most people live in a town with more than six people.

So when my amoeba-shaped cookies came out of the oven, I began looking online for cute cupcake ideas instead. Cuter and so much easier. (The picture I stole this idea from also included a Twizzler stick as a "handle," but I couldn't bring myself to add yet more sugar to a snack that already included a cupcake with icing, jelly beans, and a marshmallow peep!)

This weekend is causing me no small amount of stress. Which I hate because I would like to be less stressed and more prayerful during Holy Week, but it's not happening this year.

I inquired as to whether our church has any special Easter activities for the children and was told they do not. So, like any other insane person would do, I said, "Why don't I put together something?" So, I am now organizing (and I use the term loosely) an Easter Celebration at our church on Saturday from 1:00-3:00.

Then at 5:00 we are having a birthday party at our house for one of David's aunts who is turning 79. There will be about 20 adults coming for this dinner party. Fortunately, since I have the Easter thing that afternoon and am providing the semi-clean house for the gathering, I am not charged with preparing any of the food. However, my house has many miles to go before it reaches semi-clean status.

And, did I mention my in-laws are coming for the weekend? They'll be here tonight. In about five hours or so.

I am hoping to make it to a Good Friday service tomorrow, but the kids are out of school so we will see how that goes.

I would just take them if it was our own church, but our church does not have one, and I suspect the only service in town will be at the Catholic church. I'm not opposed to taking my kids to a Catholic mass, but somehow I don't think attending with the kids it tow would provide me with the time of spiritual rest and reflection that I am seeking. Just a hunch.

Today is the day we remember the Last Supper, the night Jesus celebrated the Passover with his disciples:

"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, 'This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.' In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.'"

I love taking communion in church. I love the reminder that when I feel like I am not adequate for the challenges before me or like I don't have it in me to run this race and finish well, I am reminded in this than I do not run in my own strength. As I partake of the wine and the bread, I am cognizant that I am "filling myself" with Christ and His strength. His righteousness. His merit.

Fill yourself with Him today.

I Shouldn't Be Alive

2010-03-28T23:10:00.006-04:00

Hi. My name is Becky, and I am addicted to shows where people face tragedy and certain death and then miraculously survive.

I Was Bitten. Untold Stories of the E.R. Mystery Diagnosis. Monsters Inside Me. I watch them all. Morbid, I know, but what can I tell you? I'm a sucker for a good runner-fell-off-a-cliff-and-shattered-every-bone-in-her-body-but-survived story.

One of my more recent discoveries is an Animal Planet show called I Shouldn't Be Alive. (A better name would be I Shouldn't Be On Animal Planet Because I'm Usually Not About Animals, but whatever. As usual, no one asked me.)

The more I think about it lately, however, I'm starting to thinking that some of the near-deadly catastrophes many of those people have faced are less awe-inspiring than they probably think.

I'm sure a few years ago I would have thought differently.

A decade ago surviving eleven days in the bitter cold snow with no shelter, food, or drink would have seemed heroic. Living through a month at sea in a tiny life raft with no fresh water and sharks eating your shipmates would have struck me as downright amazing.

Now that I've had children, I have to wonder.

Yes, being so desperate that you're considering cutting off your finger just to have something to eat (that seriously happened on the last episode I watched) is pretty horrendous. But, has that boy ever pushed a baby - an honest-to-God, living, breathing human being - out of his body? I would have cut off six fingers if it would have gotten the anesthesiologist there with my epidural sooner.

Sure, sharks are deadly, but what about the gauntlet of knees and elbows I have to survive just to get out of my bed on those mornings when five people inhabit it? Just to be clear, that's TEN elbows and TEN knees. Not to mention ten little projectile feet and hands. Sharks may have sharp teeth, but you'd be surprised at the force with which a four year old princess can smack her foot onto a person's face.

Yes, trying to hike through endless miles of snow in your bare feet must be treacherous, but how about driving with three little ones in the car? Granted, these days it's much easier because my kids are 4, 5, and 7. But once upon a time they were 3 months, 1, and 3. I challenge anyone to find an activity more fraught with peril than driving 70 mph while trying to hold a bottle in the mouth of a rear-facing baby, retrieve a fallen pacifier from the floor for a one year-old, and listen to a three year-old pitch a royal tantrum because HIS CAR SEAT IS IRRITATING HIM!!!

The list of ways in which those car trips could have ended in disaster is endless, but it would undoubtedly include a high-speed collision, a broken neck from contorting my body into positions God never intended, or sudden death from a nervous breakdown. That's possible, right?

I'm thinking they ought to devote at least one episode of that show to me, the unsung hero. If not that show, they could create another one just for stay-at-home moms who had three children in three years (hey, it's my show, I can limit it however I want): I Shouldn't Be Sane!

Vignettes . . . granted, they're sort of long vignettes

2010-03-28T22:44:00.011-04:00

We have sleep issues.

Pee-in-the-mattresses issues to be exact.

Lauren graduated from pull-ups at bedtime around the first week in February. Awesome. No more money being thrown in the trashcan every morning. Three kids in undies 24 hours a day. She did great for the next month - three accidents, all of which occurred after forgetting to have her go potty right before bed.

In the past two weeks, however, she has wet the bed five times.

Sadly, I did not know she wet the bed a few nights ago until I went to put her to bed the NEXT night. (She says she told me when she came to my bed during the night. I have no recollection of her telling me this, but truth be told, I have no recollection of her coming to my bed at all. I just know she was there the next morning.)

So, when I put her to bed the following night I found her bedding and mattress soaked with pee. Soaked. It being past bedtime already, I decided I would just let her sleep with Josh and deal with it tomorrow.

Because I'm very Scarlett-O'Hara-like like that.

I should have foreseen what would happen next. You don't need me to tell you, do you? Yes, she peed on Josh's bed during the night. (It was actually Ethan's bed, but Ethan won't sleep with Lauren, so Josh was on the bottom bunk with her while Ethan slept on top. Ethan's a smart kid.) So, now both Josh and Lauren came into our bed during the night.

Of course - OF COURSE - there was no mattress pad on Ethan's bed. So now I have two, count 'em, two mattresses that reek of pee.

I've googled remedies and have found some suggestions, but what I have not found is time to implement said suggestions. So, for the past two nights David has slept in our king-size bed with all three kids, and I have taken up residence on the couch. Clearly Ethan got those smart genes from me.

(You're not really wondering why all three are in our room are you? You didn't really think there was a chance that Joshua would sleep in his perfectly clean-smelling, non-soiled bed when the other two are in our bed, did you?)

----------------------------

Speaking of nasty smells . . .

We have two and a half bathrooms. Two upstairs and a small half-bath right off of our kitchen. Of course, when we have company this half-bath is the one they usually use. Which is why I'm not wild about my kids using that bathroom.

You'll recall that two of my children are boys. Boys with bad aim and even worse cleaning skills. That leaves it inevitable that said bathroom is going to smell like pee.

Okay, I can deal. I'll just buy stock in C.lorox wipes. However, is it too much to ask that when they have to go #2, they do it upstairs? Is there really any reason to add that smell to the kitchen?

I'm constantly reminding the other inhabitants of this house to please take all serious bathroom business upstairs, but they are constantly "forgetting."

Joshua apparently decided to help me out today because when I walked past that bathroom this afternoon, this is what I saw:

I think I may leave it there.

---------------------------------

Seems like the last two weeks have just been a blur of travel. First, we went to Harrisburg to visit David's parents two weekends ago, traveling down on Wednesday and back on Sunday. (That was a great drive; gave the kids anti-motion sickness medicine and made both legs of the trip without a single stop!)

Four days after that trip, I drove to Williamsport and back (a 4hour round trip) to watch our high school mock trial team compete in the regional finals of the mock trial competition. I'm the attorney adviser for the team, which I have really enjoyed doing. In fact, I think sometimes I like helping teenagers pretend to be lawyers more than I like actually being a lawyer.

Then two days after that, I headed down to D.C. to spend the weekend with two of my best friends from law school. That is easily a 6 hour drive when one arrives on a Friday afternoon, which meant a 12 hour round trip for a less-than-36-hour visit.

Luckily, it was worth every minute.

New bikes

2010-03-22T22:44:00.003-04:00

Somehow we found ourselves in a situation this year where all three kids needed a new bike. I found one for Lauren on Craig's List down in Lancaster, so David's parents picked it up for me on Saturday. When I stopped by their house on my way home from D.C. yesterday to get it, his dad and I found a guy selling used bikes in his yard, and I ended up getting bikes for Josh and Ethan, too.

Of course the kids had NO idea that I might come home from my trip to Washington, D.C. bearing new (to them) bicycles, so their delight over my homecoming was at least tripled.

Joshua loves his because it's a "trick bike," which I think means the handlebars turn all the way around, and it has pegs you can stand on.

Lauren was by far the most excited of all. She is in love with this bike . . . and honestly, who wouldn't be?

Notice the zebra-pattern seat cover.

Sadly, the bike I bought for poor Ethan did not work out. The kids wants a bike so badly, but this one I bought is just a little too big for him. So, while Josh and Lauren were riding their new bikes this afternoon, Ethan helped me cook dinner.

Ethan is so good at rolling with the punches on things like this. I have forgotten his monthly "special day" at school twice, and he didn't even tell me about it the second time. He handles disappointment much better than Joshua and Lauren do . . . which of course just makes me want to run out and get him a new bike as quickly as I can. Hope I can find one before next weekend.

2010-03-19T06:12:00.001-04:00

I would like it duly noted that this makes my fifth post in five days. Apparently, I'm trying to make up for all that lost blogging time. I haven't actually written all five days; I wrote two posts a couple of times and scheduled them to post on different days. Because I'm smart like that.

I'm thinking Lauren does not have a firm grasp on what "accidental" means. She broke a toy yesterday, and I asked her what happened.

Lauren: I accidentally broke this.
Me: How did you accidentally break it?
Lauren: Well, I was just bending it to see if it would break, and it broke.

Huh. Imagine that.

Looking forward to girl time with my law school peeps this weekend.

Don't worry; I only use words like "peeps" when I'm with them or referring to them . . . something about them just brings out my inner gangsta. I'ma be hangin' and partying all up in Funk's crib.

I'm pretty sure QT #3 is exactly why I should not write blog posts after midnight. Nothing good ever comes of it.

I typically am not up past midnight these days. I crash nightly during the opening scene of Scrubs or Unwrapped, which both come on at 11.

Not sure what my point is.

Ethan came to me tonight about 20 minutes after I put him to bed. He came in the room with tears welling and said, "Mommy, I'm crying but I don't know why!"

I held him for a minute and asked him if something hurt or if something had made him sad. "I don't think so, but I just don't know."

I said, "Buddy, I bet you're just tired."
"Actually, I think I might know why I'm crying."
"Really? Why?"
"Because you didn't answer me when I said I couldn't sleep."

Seriously? Do you know how many nights anywhere from one to three of my children call out from their beds that they can't sleep? Um, try seven out of seven. Every night. Multiple times.

"Mommy, I can't sleep!"
"Mom, my head hurts."
"Mom, my eyes won't stay closed."
"Mommy, I think my tummy hurts."
"Mommy, I've been closing my eyes but I'm still awake."
"Mommy, Ethan won't be quiet."
"Mom, Josh is keeping me awake."
"Mommy, I'm scared!"

What's that, you're tired of reading these? Trust me, I feel your pain.

I did not feel Ethan's.

Don't forget to head over to Conversion Diary for some great Quick Takes.

Passive aggressive much?

2010-03-18T10:29:00.000-04:00

Brace yourselves; this will be a shock.

Last weekend the boys were wrestling, and someone got hurt. I know, hard to believe since it only happens about every three and a half minutes in our house.

This time was a little different from usual, however. This time Ethan was the hurter, and Josh was the hurtee. (Sorry, too much law school.) Apparently, Josh was holding Ethan's legs, so Ethan began flailing his feet and accidentally kicked Josh in the nose. Hard.

Naturally, Josh was unhappy about this turn of events, and we had to really work with him to get him to control his anger. He was livid, which is his usual reaction to getting hurt. We're working on that.

So, David talked with Josh upstairs and tried to calm him down. Then Josh came down and hoped that I would share in his indignation and spank Ethan to within an inch of his life. When that didn't happen, Josh got even angrier. After a bit of serious intervention, I convinced him that he needed to control his temper and forgive Ethan for hurting him, especially when it was accidental.

At least I thought I convinced him.

When he and I finished talking, I went over to the dishwasher where Lauren was trying to make words with the magnetic letters. (Our fridge is stainless steel, so we have to do magnets on the dishwasher.) As Lauren and I were putting together words, I noticed that Josh had joined us and had spelled out Ethan's name with the letters.

Thinking I knew him oh-so-well, I said, "Joshua, what mean thing are you about to write about your brother?"

"Nothing," he replied innocently.

He then proceeded to put a Star Wars Jedi magnet next to Ethan's name, make a shooting sound, and knock the letters E-T-H-A-N right off the dishwasher door.

The Holy Navigator

2010-03-17T22:07:00.004-04:00

"In 800 yards, turn left, then stay straight."

This is what the GPS navigator told me to do; it's not what I did.

I like using the GPS for roads I'm unfamiliar with. It keeps me from having to get directions or use a map. But on roads I already know, I tend to ignore it. Sometimes I persist in going my own way until it finally catches on and adjusts its instructions. Other times I turn it off altogether because I know I do not want to do what it is telling me to do.

As I was ignoring it during my drive to Williamsport today, it occurred to me that this was very much like what I do to the Holy Spirit on a regular basis. In fact, I had done it just a few hours before.

This morning I was talking to my secretary and found myself smack dab in the middle of gossip junction. I knew better than to be there. I heard the navigator in my spirit telling me, "No, this is not the way to go." But since I wanted to go that way, I ignored it. I shut it off. I was enjoying this route too much to exit now.

Of course, I made everything okay by saying helpful things like, "I shouldn't gossip, but . . . " as I proceeded to take part in the decimation of another person's character.

How often do I turn off or ignore the instruction of the Holy Spirit as if He's nothing more than a Tom-Tom?

Thankful, but . . .

2010-03-16T19:42:00.002-04:00

I love that my kids delight in surprising me with acts of kindness. The joy they get from surprising me with their clean rooms, made-up beds, or an unloaded dishwasher brings a smile to my heart every time.

But . . .

I really wish that when they decided to surprise me by cleaning the upstairs bathrooms tonight that they had not used every towel and washcloth in the linen closet. And, I mean they are all completely soaked.

Even more, I really wish that they had not used them to "clean" the toilet.

Thanks, kids.

Some thoughts as I sit

2010-03-15T21:38:00.004-04:00

So you know how long it's been since I last blogged? I'm pretty sure that's how long it's been since I sat down.

Somehow in the last couple of years since my kids have all become old enough to walk and talk and wipe their own rear ends, I began to take sitting down for granted. I remember that when they were very small I never sat, but recently I've done lots of sitting. Plenty even.

Until I went back to work.

Granted, I do sit when I'm at work, but sitting in a tense, hunched-over, must-deal-with-this-emergency-now-because-I-haven't-worked-in-over-five-years-and-I'm-constantly-afraid-I'll-screw-up-and-lose-my-license manner doesn't really count, does it?

Lately my life has become a blur of laundry and dishes and handling cases and transporting children to lessons and babysitters and going to court and more laundry and traveling and coaching mock trial and more laundry and cooking (notice how late in the list that one came) and handling work phone calls from home because they justcannotwait until I'm in the office again and did I mention laundry?

I so don't mean to be a whiner. I realize that I have a truly great life wherein I'm able to spend lots of time with my kids, work with my husband, and live in a warm home with plenty of food and a comfortable - oh, I'm so tired I shouldn't mention my comfortable - bed.

But I'm tired, and the only thing that seems to be able to give lately is my blog. Well, that and my cooking, but that was never all that great to begin with.

So I apologize for the ever-increasing time between posts. I stand in awe of women who take care of their families and work and blog. I bow down to you.

Or at least I least I will if I ever decide to get my butt out of this chair. It may be a while.

7 Quick Takes

2010-03-05T07:49:00.000-05:00

Since I can't seem to make it to the gym anymore, I've started doing my Biggest Loser workout dvd again.

I'm pretty sure Jillian and Bob are trying to kill me.

While leaving her babysitter's house yesterday, Lauren said to me, "Mommy, I want to keep these two big pieces of ice for my ice collection."

"You don't have an ice collection."

"I do now!"

Touche.

Day # 7,312 stuck in the house in the middle of winter: marshmallow/toothpick creations.

The Big Dipper (or maybe it's the little one)

Marshmallow Man

Sure, they can all get on daddy's shoulders

But, then what?

Going to Elmira on a double date tomorrow! Excited to be within within spittin' distance of a Target, a restaurant that seats more than 15 people, and a theater with more than one movie. (I started to say "in close proximity to," but "spittin' distance" just seemed more Southern, and I have to cling desperately to what I have left of my Southern, ahem, charm?)

And, yes, we are driving an hour and a half to go to dinner and a movie.

Those of you who live within twenty minutes of your date-night destination, bow your head and say thank you when you go to bed tonight.

Can a person eat too many bananas? I eat at two or three a day. Sometimes more. I mean, I buy an INSANE amount of bananas every time I go to the grocery store.

Okay, I have officially bottomed out with the Quick Takes. For what I'm sure are far more scintillating Quick Takes, head over to Conversion Diary.

Olympic snuggling

2010-02-27T10:03:00.004-05:00

My kids love to snuggle. Like seriously love it.

Of course, this can be one of my favorite parts of parenting. I can think of few things that rival a sweet snuggle from one of my precious kids.

Notice I said one of my precious kids. The problem is that I have three precious kids.

When there was only one - or even two - we could sit on the couch and read books together, cuddling away the hours. Now "reading books" is just a euphemism for pushing, climbing, and clawing their way past each other and farther on top of mommy and closer to the book because they "can't see!!!!"

There is serious competition around here about who got more snuggles, snuggled longer, snuggled in a better spot. It never ends. I'm convinced my kids could turn this into an Olympic sport: "It's Joshua with an arm and a leg right now, but watch out, Ethan's making a move from the outside and going for the neck with Lauren not far behind pulling the sneaky climb-right-on-top-before-anyone-notices move . . ."

Last night topped all prior mommy snuggle competitions.

We took the kids sledding at around 8pm. If you're not familiar with this activity, it involves a really big hill and a lot of knee-deep snow. Going down the hill . . . fun. Going up the hill . . . less fun. Going up the hill while pulling a 40 lb. child on your sled . . . so not fun. I can often pretend that I'm in good shape, but last night proved otherwise.

So when we came home and the time came to put the kids to bed, I began going up the stairs. About halfway up, I found myself dreaming of the landing at the top like one longs for an oasis in the desert. I got there and collapsed on the floor. With every muscle in my legs and buttocks aching, I decided just to stay there for a few minutes.

That's when Ethan came up, and seeing me there, decided it would be the perfect time for a snuggle. He laid down on the floor next to me and snuggled up close. Joshua came up the stairs a few moments later and said, I kid you not, "Mommy, when you're done snuggling Ethan, you have to snuggle me next!"

Um, kid, I'm not down here to snuggle; I'm just dying, that's all. Apparently, he found it grossly unjust that I had never laid on the floor at the top of the stairs with him.

If my kids ever find me lying unconscious in a ditch, I do not believe they will call 911. They will just argue over who gets to snuggle first.

"No fair, Ethan got to give you CPR last time!!"

I think she'll go far in life

2010-02-25T19:33:00.002-05:00

I told the boys to clean their room a little while ago, and they did. A few minutes later we were all downstairs, and I told Lauren she needed to go clean her room. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Lauren in a conspiratorial tone: Hey, guys! Let's go clean our rooms and surprise mom with it.

Josh: We already cleaned our room.

Lauren: Weeeell, let's go clean my room together. It'll be fun, won't it?!

Josh: No, you have to clean your room.

Lauren: I know . . . how about we all clean it and see who can clean it the fastest??!!

Josh: No.

Lauren: I've got it, Josh! If we all clean my room, I bet mom will give you a reward for being so nice . . . don't you want a reward, Josh?

Me: Lauren, go clean your room.

Lauren: But mom, I'm trying to help Josh and Ethan get a reward.

Isn't she an angel?

Some thoughts on Lent

2010-02-25T16:16:00.002-05:00

I am not catholic. I am not even episcopal. In fact, I grew up about as far removed from that as one can get: charismatic non-denominational. Some would say Pentecostal, though I personally wouldn't use that moniker.

So, what in the world am I doing observing Lent? (Heck, I can't even decide whether it ought to be capitalized.) What is this hand-raising, church-dancing, tongues-praying girl doing giving up something for Lent?

I'll tell you: I find it good for my soul.

Having gone to a catholic high school, I have seen Lent observed in many forms. To be honest, most of the Catholics I went to school with were not exactly bastions of spirituality. There were a few who seemed to genuinely love Jesus, but for the most part, I saw people going through the motions of a ritual without giving it any spiritual meaning at all.

Can't have soda with lunch . . . it's Lent. No Now & Laters for me . . . I gave up candy for Lent. No chocolate, no fast food, no swearing . . . everyone seemed ready to sacrifice something for Lent. But why?

It seemed to me like most of them were doing it because they thought it would earn them favor with God. I believe strongly that I need not do anything to earn favor with God because Jesus Christ purchased that for me on the cross, and it is mine forever.

So why sacrifice for Lent?

David and I spent the past few years in a semi-liturgical church (PCA) after having both grown up non-denominational. While I certainly missed the freedom I find in musical worship at non-denominational churches, I felt like I experienced a spiritual grounding in my soul when observing a liturgical calendar.

There is something to be said for corporately acknowledging spiritual seasons. Together we turn our hearts toward celebrating the coming of the Messiah during Advent, and together we turn our hearts toward the anticipation of His resurrection at Easter. And we are reminded of the suffering that preceded it during Lent.

Christ did not reach the point of resurrection easily or without pain. He suffered in the desert. He suffered on the cross. How much sweeter is the victory of His resurrection after remembering the pain He endured to achieve it? How much more can I share in His suffering if I prayerfully make one small sacrifice, one exercise of physical discipline with the prayer that God will use it to minister to my soul.

Lent is observed during the forty days (excluding Sundays) prior to Easter and is meant to mirror the forty days Christ fasted in the wilderness. The Bible says we are called to "share in His sufferings," and I find Lent to be a tangible way to reflect on that.

I wanted to address this because I know that most of my friends and family - who constitute the majority of my readers - do not observe Lent. Some have asked me why I do, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on the subject, elementary as they may be. Like I said, I'm not catholic, so I am not a Lenten expert, and if I've misstated anything I apologize to the Catholics whom I do know read my blog. This is my take on it, that's all.

My final thoughts: do I think observing Lent is necessary to know Christ? No. Do I think it will gain me favor with God? Not at all. Do I think it makes me a better Christian than someone else? Absolutely not.

Do I think God uses it to speak to my charismatic soul? Yes, yes, He does.

Long time no write . . . quick takes update

2010-02-24T08:14:00.006-05:00

So, it's been brought to my attention that my blog has not been updated in quite some time. I know, I know. Mea culpa and all that. I was shocked to see when I logged in just now that I have only four posts up for the whole month of February . . . and one of those was written by David!

All I can say is that between work, the kids, the house, and being sick, I just have not found the energy to write. Plus, after all this time without a post, I felt like I would need to write something really good to make up for it . . . but I got nothin'.

However, I will attempt a quick update of things going on in our household:

We made it to Georgia and back. The kids were very good during the traveling, but nevertheless, I can think of about 800 million things I would rather do than go to an airport and get on a plane alone with them again any time soon.

The bathroom trips alone make the whole thing almost impossible. I love the looks on people's faces as four people with three backpacks, four coats, a carry-on bag, and a purse come piling out of the handicapped stall. It must look an awful lot like a circus clown car!

Lauren continues to ask me if her ears have popped yet. Josh commented as we were landing that he could tell his ears popped because his voice sounded louder.

Lauren, not understanding that he meant it sounded louder to himself, began asking in louder and louder voices whether her ears had popped yet.

"I don't know, sweetheart . . . does it feel like they popped?" I would say.

"Well, do I sound LOUDER yet??"

Alas, as wonderful as our vacation was, the return to the real world was swift and without fanfare. Alarm clocks, never-ending snow, grocery shopping, housecleaning, sickness . . . it was all just waiting for us like a lion about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

I've officially added an inch to my height.

I've always (well, technically not always, but for many years) been between 5'5" and 5'6", but probably a tad closer to the former, so that's what I've used as my "official" height.

That was before I went to the doctor on Monday and heard what my "official" weight is now. Yikes. So, when the nurse asked me how tall I was, let me tell you, I didn't hesitate even a second before responding, "5'6!"

Since so much snow awaited us upon our return, I tried to make the best of it. I gave the kids some food coloring, cups, and spoons to play with.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Yes, it took at least four days for all that color to come off of Josh's hands.

True beauty

2010-02-15T13:24:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite things about being home is getting to worship in our former church. The church we attend in Pennsylvania and the church we attended in Georgia could not be more different. One is charismatic; one is semi-liturgical. One is full of dancing and shouting; one does not even clap after a solo. One begins somewhere around 11:00 and ends when it ends; the other starts at 10:45 and ends promptly at noon.

And I love them both.

We sang one of my favorite hymns yesterday. To be honest, the entire song doesn't move me much, but the second verse contains one of my favorite lines of all time:

And whether our tomorrows be filled with good or ill, we'll triumph through our sorrows and rise to bless You still,

To marvel at Your beauty and glory in Your ways, and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise.

Where do I marvel at God's beauty? In the snow-covered mountains, yes. In the colorful feathers of a peacock. In the tiny fingers and toes of my newborn child for sure. I've mostly associated beauty with the aesthetic in nature . . . sunsets, flowers, beaches, canyons.

As I looked around me in church yesterday, I found myself marveling in His beauty in a new way. Standing with fellow pilgrims, with whom I have laughed and cried, and declaring the greatness of our Savior's love is truly a thing beauty.

How awesome is the fellowship of believers where we can always find refuge for our souls. Even though churches may be worlds apart in how they express the joy of their salvation, they are full of beautiful people.

I think God's church is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all.

To My Wife

2010-02-14T16:24:00.001-05:00

And though we've walked these many days, these many years,

Through skies sometimes cloudy and sometimes clear,

I have had your company to bring me cheer,

And in my heart more passion burns for you each year.

And though we've walked these many days, these many years,

And for so long you didn't want to be here,

Yet having you with me has quieted me fears,

And now I perceive that you also in this place find cheer.

And so it is that for now and forever, I will love you,

a little more today, and even more next year.

Happy Valentine's day.

(Don't I have an awesome husband? He hacked into my blog to leave me this poem. I love him, too.)

Yes, we really are that dumb

2010-02-14T14:39:00.003-05:00

I had the chance to go out to dinner with my dear friend Melissa last night. We are both pretty smart, if I do say so myself. We did well in high school, have college degrees, and between the two of us, parent five children. Nevertheless, this is how our dinner outing went:

1. Park at Carraba's and learn that there is a 1.5 hr wait for a table.

2. Walk next door to Smoky Bones and put our names on the list since the wait there is only 45 min.

3. Decide to use some of those 45 minutes walking next door to Olive Garden to see what their wait is.

4. Discover that Buffalo Wild Wings is between Smoky Bones and Olive Garden, but bypass it and walk to Olive Garden. The wait there is 1.5 hrs.

5. Since we've gone so far anyway, we decide to walk next door to Chili's and check out that wait. Thirty minutes. Score! Put our names on the list.

6. Realize that the Smoky Bones pager, which is beeping because we've gone too far, is not going to stop beeping.

7. Decide since we have 30 minutes to kill, we may as well return the pager to Smoky Bones.

8. Walk back to Smoky Bones with pager.

9. Walk back to Chili's to eat dinner.

10. While waiting for our table, realize that if we had a LICK of sense between the two of us, we'd have gotten the car while we were down there.

Yes, this is a true story of two idiots and their parking lot ambulations.

To my mom

2010-02-05T06:24:00.002-05:00

John 15:13: Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.

I'm one of those lucky people who grew up in a truly great family. Two parents, two brothers, numerous ill-fated pets, and some pretty fabulous cousins.

As I get older, it becomes more difficult to look back on my childhood and remember specific events clearly, but there is one thing that will forever be crystal clear: my mom was always there. I don't know how she did it, having had her first baby at only 19 years old, but she taught me by example what it meant to be a good, no a fabulous, mom.

It is only as I've become a mother myself that I've realized what it really means to lay down your life for another. Of course, in the literal sense, I would die for my kids . . . but what about in the figurative everyday sense? That's what my mom did.

I'm sure it was not for herself that she allowed us to have friends stayover for nights on end as though they lived there.

That she accompanied thirty obnoxious 7th and 8th graders on a multi-day field trip around the state of Georgia.

That she attended loud concert after loud concert with a bunch of hyper thirteen year old girls wearing six watches on each arm.

That she would drive out of her way to pick up a Burger King chicken sandwich for her ridiculous daughter who'd had her paged in the grocery store.

That she went on countless high school retreats.

That she decided to make herself the unofficial youth leader for our church which had none, taking teenagers on ski trips and to concerts, and leading them in Bible study at our house every other Sunday.

That she made sure our house and pool were always open to anyone who desired to be there.

That she drove to Merritt Island, Florida (and back) to help her less-courageous-than-she-thought daughter fulfill her summer missionary whims.

That she got up before the crack of dawn to take me to 7 am piano lessons because it was the only time my busy and oh-so-important high school schedule could accommodate.

That she cooked and cleaned and laundered and chauffered and nursed and rejoiced and comforted.

That she faithfully met with three other moms to pray for her kids almost every week of our lives for the past 17 years (and that she still does, though I think it's at least as much for her now!).

Of course this list contains a but few examples of thousands. When I think of my mom, I think of John 15:13.

Mom, thank you for laying down your own life for mine. You were the first person to love me and the first person I loved. Thank you for teaching me how to be a mom. You've always been my biggest cheerleader, and now that I'm old enough to understand all that it cost to be the kind of parent you were and still are, I'm your biggest cheerleader, too.

Happy birthday.

7 Quick Takes Sunday

2010-01-31T21:39:00.007-05:00

Better late than never, right?

Yesterday David and I went with some friends to a concert called Winter Jam. It was fantastic.

We spent almost 12 hours without kids, eating uninterrupted meals, having entire conversations that didn't involve anyone having to go potty or tattling on someone, getting to know some new (to me) friends better, and watching some of my favorite bands perform some awesome music.

Other than having to stand in line outside for two hours when it was only like five degrees, it was perfect.

I was doing laundry this morning and noticed a peculiar thing about my washing machine. I'm assuming the people who made it must have been childless or delusional or tripping on too much fabric softener. Because they gave the water level dial more than one setting.

Yeah, for real. Did you know that there are settings for small and medium loads? Do people really do small and medium loads? Is there such a thing? Are there people out there who wash fewer than 30 items of clothing per load?

Nah, I'm sure it's just a manufacturing defect.

I must add yet another fact about myself to my list of shockingly appalling attributes.

Not only do I have a mini-nervous breakdown if I hear someone brushing his/her teeth, fall down stairs on a regular basis, and talk waaaay too much . . . I'm also corkscrew challenged.

I'm pretty sure there is not a person on the face of the earth who is worse at using a corkscrew than I am. Okay, maybe a blind four year-old with only one arm . . . but I doubt it.

Oh, also I'm pathetically unobservant.

David and I are in the process of having our office redecorated. For several weeks we've been waiting to see how it would look once the walls were done. Once the hideous old wallpaper was taken down and our beautiful new paint colors applied.

So, last week I walked into David's office - after having walked through the waiting room, down the hall, and into and out of my own office.

He said, "So, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"The paint. The walls. The lobby. Your office. What do you mean, 'About what?!'"

The whole office was finished, and I hadn't even noticed. My office had been a pale off-white, and now it is chocolate brown. And I didn't notice. How is that even possible?

I taught the kids how to play spoons last week. You know, the card game where you try to grab a spoon when someone gets four-of-a-kind, and if you don't get a spoon, you get a letter?

It was fun to play with the kids and observe their natures at work.

Joshua, always quick, competitive, and coordinated was very good. He flipped the cards quickly, paid attention to the spoons, and ended up going head to head with me for the final few rounds after Ethan and Lauren were eliminated.

Ethan, on the other hand, is not quick. His response time has never been comparable to Joshua's. If I give Ethan a task, I know that I must give him a minute to process what I said before I expect him to go accomplish it. So, he was not very good at deciding quickly whether to pass or hold a card or at noticing when someone was grabbing a spoon and reacting in a hurry.

However, he has skills of his own.

When it got down to me and Josh, Josh said, "I guess whoever gets four of a kind first will win since they'll grab the spoon first." I told him about the last time Daddy and I played spoons with some friends, and it ended up me against Mr. Steve, and even though I was the one with four of a kind, Mr. Steve ended up with the spoon because he was watching for me to grab it, and he has waaaay longer arms than I do.

Ethan, always thinking when everyone else is acting, said, "Mom, you should reach for the spoon and then when the other person starts to grab it, put your hands up like you were just pretending to have four, then they'll let go, and you can grab it . . . would that be cheating?"

No, but it's awfully smart for a five year-old.

It has taken me hours to do these "Quick" Takes because I'm also watching Planet Earth: Predators and Prey on the Discovery channel. It doesn't bother me to watch a great white shark eat a seal or a pride of lions attack an elephant (okay, that one bothers me a little), but eeeewwww, I don't like the segments about ants with parasites in their brains or cockroaches feeding on mites in bat dung. Come on, get back to the grizzly bears already.

Aren't you glad I shared that with you?

Heading to Georgia very soon. Sarah, be sure to hook me up with some good songs in church. :)

Check out more - and less disgusting, I'm sure - QT's over at Conversion Diary.

Hide-n-Sleep Seek

2010-01-27T22:02:00.005-05:00

"1 . . . 2 . . . 3"

I could hear Lauren counting downstairs as I searched for another perfect hiding spot for our thousandth round of hide-n-seek.

"4 . . . 5 . . . 6"

Hmm, I wonder if I can fit under Lauren's bed; it's pretty high.

"7 . . . 8 . . . 9"

Yes! It's actually pretty spacious under here. I can stretch out with plenty of room.

"10 . . . 11 . . . 12"

I don't hear the boys' footsteps anymore; they must have found hiding spots.

"13 . . . 14 . . . 15"

Okay, I have at least 15 more seconds before she comes upstairs. Since I have to lie here and be still and quiet anyway, I may as well close my eyes, right?

"16 . . ."

Do I really need to tell you how this story ends?

Suffice it to say when I awakened from dozing off under Lauren's bed, there was a lot of fighting going on about whether Lauren had told Ethan where Joshua was hiding, but they were still all completely in the dark as to where mommy was. In my defense, I only debated with myself for a moment (or two) as to whether I really must come out from under the bed and intervene.

It's a good thing there was no snooze button under there.

If you ever come to my house and can't find me, take a peek under Lauren's bed. It just may be my new favorite place in the house.