7 Quick Takes

1.

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.

2.

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.

3.

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."

4.

Four more days of school!

5.

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.

6.

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.

7.

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!

(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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1.

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.

2.

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.

3.

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.

4.

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.

5.

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."

6.

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.

7.

Don't forget to head over to Conversion Diary to check out more QuickTakes.

New art from Josh

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?

"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.