Spilt Milk

Star of the Week

2012-02-10T13:00:00.000-08:00

I pride myself on the fact that every one of our children has had the distinguished opportunity to showcase my art skills each year they have been selected for “Star of the Week” in their elementary school classrooms. Multiply kindergarten through second grade, times 4 children, and that equals twelve “Star of the Week” masterpieces. Twelve. Four years of art education has not gone to waste. Money well spent I’d say.

I have masterfully created epic posters littered with colorful photos, stickers, smatterings of hand drawn art, lettering perfection, and perfectly labeled events of our young “Star’s” life to which my children had little involvement. On occasion I would let them place a sticker or glue a photo, and allowed them to answer the required questions like, “What is your favorite food?” and “What do you like to do in your spare time?” while trying desperately to not answer for them.

I amaze myself, really.

Our children would smugly sweep into their classrooms, poster in hand, anticipating the stunned faces and dropped jaws from classmates running to catch the first glimpse of the magnum opus. I have a reputation to behold.

I would escort each child to said classroom only to soak in the sticky sweet of acclaims and applause and watch, hidden among the mass, sullen faces of those whose defeat was apparent because of ill equipped mothers. Sad.

Enter child number four. Child number four wants to take my skills and stomp them into the rubbish lying in a city gutter. Child number four wants to do everything himself. Child number doesn’t color inside the lines and misspells words using permanent marker. He hastily turns a “b” into a “d” and crosses out unnecessary letters. Child number four uses tape instead of glue. You can see tape, you cannot see glue. He has stickers which overlap each other, and lays misshapen photos too close to handwritten words and phrases. Child number four spats in the face of my animated characters and expert collage execution. Child number four will suffer the consequences of his misguidance and stubborn ways. He will suffer.

Walking into the room carrying a heap of a “Star of the Week” poster, the teacher greets me, anxious I’m sure, to view the beauty for which I am known around campus. I plop the poster on the back table and begin to explain. “I have a degree in art from a reputable university. I can create a spectacular “Star of the Week” poster while blindfolded, suffering from dehydration and with supplies purchased at a hardware store. This is what I do. However, I have a 4th child who says, ‘I’ve got this Mom. This is my poster.’”

The teacher laughs and says, “I love when the kids do their own posters. The parent posters are pretty, but the posters done by children are my favorite and his is beautiful!”

My art supplies are packed away for good. Posters from past years are stuffed into the garage rafters, and I have resigned to letting the 4th child do projects on his own without any of my help.

The smell defeat is waifing about, but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I surrender, but if you happen to need the skills of a seasoned “Star of the Week” poster creator, I know just the right person.

Junior High

2012-01-30T14:57:00.000-08:00

While setting my alarm the other night, "How Deep is your Love" by the Bee Gees came through the speakers of my clock radio. I instantly went back to seventh grade and let out a deep sigh.

Seventh grade.

Simplicity.

My day consisted of school, and sitting at the park sipping Icees and spitting out sunflower seed shells from the pile nestled in my cheek. Our homework load was minimal but our conversations were detailed, real, tangible, and centered on friends, and boys we thought were cute.

We wrote our friends letters which were folded in triangular, origami shapes, and signed each one with TTFN and BFF written in ball point pen. The letters were shoved into the ventilation slats on the locker doors and were a welcome surprise to the receiver. I loved getting letters.

If we needed a question answered, or had to decide on a place to meet, the landline telephone was our available source of communication. We sat on the phone for hours and talked incessantly.

Our teenagers have phones they rarely use for talking. Communication with friends is done via text messaging, and Facebook comments. They sometimes e-mail, they never write letters, and telephone conversations are on the go and only as a last resort when the text message appears too lengthy.

I hope that my children don't forget how to communicate with friends through verbal conversation. I hope they remember how to ask questions, and engage others in conversation. I hope they don't overlook the written word - using a pen.

That would be a travesty.

Pedaling Downhill

2012-01-24T10:53:00.000-08:00

Our 8 year old likes to pedal down hills. I think peddling downhill is scary, so each time he stands up on his pedals and begins his hasty decent I holler, “Why do you pedal downhill?” He hollers right back to me, “I like going fast!” Within seconds he is down the hill, around the corner, and out of sight. I listen for the crash, but the crash never comes. He’s a professional.

He waits for me at the bottom of the hill. His face is cool from the brisk wind, his heart is pumping, and his mood is high. The adrenaline rush is addictive so he cannot wait to return to the top of the hill, and once again, pedal hard and fast down the hill.

I like to coast down hills. The slow decent is the prize to the grueling climb. I prefer to soak in the success instead of rushing through it. In addition, I don’t like to crash, or hurt myself. Even if none of these were to take place, the fear that I would crash or injure myself keeps me from the escapade. I am not a professional, I don’t need an adrenaline rush, and I prefer using a fan to cool down my face.

Our son loves reckless abandon.

I love order and rules, justice, and all things planned and well thought.

I’m the one who tries to keep everything in neat little boxes, sitting on shelves, each properly labeled and color coded. Perhaps I need some reckless abandon.
I am grateful for the lessons that I learn from our children. They help me slow down and soak in the peace.

Since I don’t own a bike I will not be making any trips downhill as excessive speeds. I will however, learn to allow a smattering of reckless abandon to season my life and trust in God’s safety net.

I'm Usually not this Sassy

2011-12-30T20:16:00.000-08:00

Today I ended the afternoon sassy. Not the kind of sassy I have when my girlfriend complements me when I stroll into a circle of girls wearing a fashionable outfit, make up, and high heels. This sassy is the kind of sassy which results in apologies and sulking in regret.

Five days after Christmas and the kids are still asking for things. That makes me sassy. How about you give me back all of your presents and I will trade you for a twenty dollar bill?

The lunch bill tipped the scale at sixty dollars for six people. That makes me sassy. Can't we all just share a meal and drink water?

The youngest didn't feel like taking my daughter's photography seriously and kept smiling like a goof ball. That makes me sassy. He also needed a piggyback ride because he was tired of walking. Sassy.

The dogs stopped too many times to pee. I get really sassy when that happens.

Pictures make me look old so I get sassy. Who am I kidding? Do I really think that I look 30?

My oldest boy takes none of my suggestions which frustrates me and brings out my inner sassy.

My daughter doesn't like the way that I take pictures with her camera. Give me my sassy.

We had a great day. I have so much for which to be thankful. I shouldn't be sassy.

'Tis the Season to be Disappointed

2011-12-19T04:52:00.000-08:00

In light of all the celebration and ambiance of the Christmas season, unfortunately, being disappointed is a common feeling around this time. In addition to the disappointment with unexpected gifts, lack of parking availability at the mall, pushy people seeking handouts, and department stores lacking in vast selection of the clothing sizes I need, the end of another year brings to light disappointments with life.

I'm not where I thought I would be in my career. I'm driving the same 15 year old car I thought we would have sold by now. Offers I have pursued failed. Friendships I have promised to keep kindled I haven't. In addition, change for which I have been praying for over a year has not occurred and doesn't seem to be occurring any time soon, and persistence with writing has been stifled with busyness and bad excuses.

Although my disappointment is embarrassing because of the fact that I am so blessed, I'm glad that God is not surprised with my disappointment.

I was reminded this weekend through Pastor Tom Holladay, that my disappointments are God's plan, which again, is disappointing. I also was reminded that God has not lost sight of the purpose He has for my life, which is encouraging.

Joseph and Mary were bombarded with disappointment and this is what I can learn from them:
I need to wait. I need to continue to wait, and wait, and wait. God's timing is perfect. Mary and Joseph had to wait, and it paid off in the end by her giving birth to Jesus.

I need to obey. Joseph and Mary obeyed God and I need to obey God in this season of disappointment.

I need to give gifts to others and encourage people who are doing what they love to do, and who are in a state of contentment and perfect joy. Giving gifts always changes my attitude and helps me to refocus on Christ. Encouraging others has the same effect.

I need to share God's good news. My disappointment by no means gives me an excuse for not sharing what God has done in my life. Satan wants to use my bad attitude to steer me away, but I need to draw even closer to Jesus.

I love what happens in Mark chapter 9 verse 19. The disciples are trying to drive out a demon from a possessed boy and they are unable. When they ask Jesus why they could not perform the exorcism Jesus replies, "You unbelieving generation. How long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me." Even the disciples were disappointed with the outcome of their ministry. However, Jesus knew that their disappointed outcome was a direct reflection of their lack of belief.

When I learn fully to rest in God's faithfulness, my disappointment with dissipate. When I learn to trust in His timing, joy will cover my discontent. When I earnestly seek Him and believe, not for a moment but for the long haul, my bitterness will turn to joy.

I'm grateful that God doesn't get tired of teaching me. I am blessed with His reminders. I am waiting and obeying knowing that freedom and release will come as long as I continue to concentrate on Jesus Christ.

I just need to reminded every now and again.

Her Birthday is Officially Over

2011-12-18T10:43:00.000-08:00

There will be no more special dinners or nights out. We will not succumb to her every whim. The gift giving has ceased. Normalcy had returned with a vengeance. Maddi's birthday is officially over, but I love her dearly and would not have changed anything.

Maddi Rose

2011-12-15T04:51:00.000-08:00

She's 18. She was just 3 and now she is 18. She has been a dream of a teenager to raise, is a godly girl, loves church, is grounded in her faith, is an amazing artist and photographer, hard worker, and she is 18.

I love watching her interact with her 15 year old brother as they talk music and do homework together. I love watching her confidently sit behind the steering wheel of her grandma's car and drive away to vocal practice. I love hearing about her day and what is happening at work. I love her fashion and artistic style. I love her laugh and the way she attacks difficult situations. I love her passion for serving Christ in foreign countries. I love the way she has grown and developed into a beautiful woman of God.

Though her ID signifies that she is old enough to live on her own, buy cigarettes, partake in purchasing lottery tickets, attend doctor's office visits confidentially, enlist in the armed forces, drop out of school with her GED, get her own checking account and apply for a credit card, she doesn't attempt to do any of those.

She still lives with us and asks that I "tuck her in" and pray with her at night. I drive her to the doctor and listen while they ask her personal questions. I cook her dinner and pour her orange juice. I wash and dry her clothes. I take her shopping and pay the tab. I like that part.

We like each other. We love each other. We understand each other. She is my girl. She is my only girl. She is 18.

Although she is officially an adult she is still my baby girl and that will never change.

Senior Year

2011-12-14T10:18:00.000-08:00

The past three years of high school have been a challenge for our oldest, only, girl. The adjustment from a small private school to a large public school proved to be more that she could shoulder and she pressed constantly for us to homeschool her or send her to a smaller institution with opportunities for online education. Her desire for change wavered and we clung to the sides of a boisterous boat in a sea of fluctuating requests.

This, her senior year, was going to be the one that stuck. Her freshman brother was entering which gave her anticipation for change, her friendship circle began to expand, and she finally began to chip away at the wall she had built around herself for three years. She began to embrace her high school. She also realized that there are good people, there are interested teachers, and that she could have fun. Making a go of school from a social standpoint was going to take some motivation.

Attending her first varsity football game in four years was the first step. Spending time with school friends outside of school was the second step. Attending senior activities was the third step, and recently she was voted “most unique” which after some convincing, she realized the honor in this title. No one wants to be exactly like the person sitting next to them in econ.

The pace quickened. She was going to Disneyland with Stephanie from her art class, and became friends with a supportive girl named Autumn. She was talking more and more about school activities and people who she knew, and, after attending two dances at other schools she was going to make her first attempt to attend a dance and her own school. We were thrilled.

Our frustration mounted though, as our daughter returned from school with the information that the third boy she asked to Winter Formal was unable to attend. He too had other plans just like the rest of them and I began to wonder why God seemed to intentionally create a barrier for my girl.

She then appeared with cupcake mix and a plan, and we prayed. Would her persistence pay off? She was going to try one more time. This boy was the one.

She made a plate of cupcakes, frosted them, and creatively stuck silly photos of herself taped to toothpicks inside each confection. One cupcake held a sign which read, “Sure would be sweet if you went to Winter Formal with me.” We prayed some more. I begged God, and we waited.

The next day arrived and she texted me, “He said ‘Yes!’” They are excited. Victory after defeat. Success after failure. God knew. He had a plan. His plan didn’t match ours, but He knew.

Be Specific

2011-12-09T13:00:00.000-08:00

Tis the season for asking, although I really don't mind. I figure that I would rather my kids ask for something that they really want as opposed to my purchasing something for them that they really didn't want for Christmas.

On and on goes the Christmas list for the little boys with requests for Legos, MLB Pillow Pets, gift cards, along with a myriad of toys and games. The bigger kids are different. One wants an iPad which he isn't getting, or a unicycle. Really? What happened to clothes, skateboards, and little stuff?

Our girl is undecided. She always does well with cash and then complains that she has no presents under the tree. I cannot win.

I like to make a list for Christmas. Mystery gifts are never fun. My husband is great about filling the requests on my list. I try to be very specific and have been know to cut out magazine photos or summons our daughter to clarify certain products.

Did you know that God loves when we ask? He not only loves when we talk to Him through prayer, but He asks us to be specific in our thanksgiving, adoration, and even in our requests. I love Him.

I have prayed for lost things to be found and they have been found. I have asked specifically for my daughter to get the same driver's permit test that she was studying from at home, and she did. These are just a few examples, I have tons.

What do you need to ask God for right now? Be specific. He likes that, a lot.

Stay Standing

2011-09-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

I am not very good at sitting. My first career as a food server and then post college graduation as a teacher caused me to do a lot of standing. I got used to standing. I like standing.

Having a job for the last three years where I all do is sit has taken some adjustment. For the first two years I kept trying to think of ways I could stand while working on my computer. I had aches and pains from sitting. Daily laps around the office helped my situation but brought no cure. My body has now grown accustomed to sitting, but that doesn't mean that I enjoy it.

Since my son is sick with strep throat, he wants me to sit with him and do nothing. the mundane shows he watches on television while he waits for his fever to pass can make me a little crazy in the head. Even when I bring magazines to thumb though I wiggle and cannot get comfortable. I then begin humming theme songs from the shows I find so mind numbing. Can it get worse?

My daughter is fantastic at sitting. She hates anything which requires movement. She can sit on an international flight for hours without complaining. Or escape to her bedroom for days. I would embarrass myself on an international flight. Impatience, and hating to sit, do not get along very well.

The verse found in Matthew 11:28 keeps popping up around me, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." I think that God is trying to tell me something. I need to appreciate, and take advantage of, the sitting. For it is in the sitting where, "My soul finds rest."

It takes me a while but I eventually get it, and God just waits. Thanks for waiting God. I apologize for being so slow.

Trying to Take Control

2011-09-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

My son came home with his first grade in high school. My soaring aspirations for for straight A's came to a screeching halt when the paper was placed before me. A C- was not what I expected. "I did really well on the test though. It's the beginning of the school year. I will do better." His words were reassuring for just a moment.

Again he approached me. "I got my test back in English. I didn't do as well as I thought." Strike two. "It's funny how my science teacher grades. He picks six questions out of 15 and grades those. I got 5 out of 6." My aspirations wain as each portion of information arrives. Strike 3. "Five out of six is not good son." I help him realize. "Why are you so critical?" he replies.

Lately, I feel desperate to go back to fifth grade where grades were under my control and finishing assignments was something I monitored. Consequences stung when work wasn't completed and lackadaisical attitudes were unacceptable. I could check every paper, and accepting help from me wasn't an option.

Although these things still hold true,the approach is different. I have less control. The weight is now on our son. Our 15 year old has taken responsibility for himself. Checking his work is now more difficult. I cannot hold his hand through high school. He doesn't want his hand held. I have though, made it very clear, that discipline is a must. The consequences are great: no varsity football games, loss of phone privileges, Facebook and other social networking on hold. He nods. He agrees. The grades must improve. We wait.

Likely to React Under Pressure

2011-09-09T06:05:00.000-07:00

I mess up therefore I am human.

This could be a framed reminder in my kitchen for those who experience the ill parts of my character.

In Romans 7: 17-19 Paul is struggling with his sinful nature and says, "And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway." Oh how I can relate to this. Why is it so difficult for me to do what is right when I discipline my children?

I came home from our son's freshman football game in a great mood. I left the game early because they were winning 48-6 with only 10 minutes left in the game. The little kids had been home with our oldest for the past 2 1/2 hours. Since I threatened the loss of limbs if they chose not to listen to her, and no calls had come through complaining of their disobedience, I was certain my return would be greeted with joy and good news. However, even the fact that I was carrying containers of fresh Chipotle couldn't fix the frustration burning within my daughter.

I was quickly greeted with, "They were awful!"

Instead of listening, correcting, comforting, and disciplining, I shouted, slammed, grabbed, spit when I used words beginning with the letter "s," lost all control, and reacted.

Instead of discussing the situation and deciding on a responsible consequence, I blew like a shaken bottle of pop.

Why is it so difficult for me to do what is right? Why is it so difficult for me to respond instead of react?

After I apologized, listened, apologized again, disciplined, waited, thought, prayed, and did everything I wanted to do first, but ended up doing last, tears were wiped, and food was consumed.

Human nature is stupid.

I pray that I stop myself next time, and respond as opposed to reacting. I pray that next time I am away, and the boys are with their sister, they all make better choices. I cannot teach my children about self control if I cannot model it myself.

I wish I didn't, but, I need a waring sign: "Likely to react under pressure."

First Day Blues

2011-09-07T06:02:00.000-07:00

The big kids started school last Thursday and have barely broke into a routine. The holiday fell on what would have been day three of their senior and freshman year at high school. Start and stop have never been my first choice for beginning strong but I don't make up the district schedule.

The little kids start today. Second and fourth grade are waiting for their crisp new shirts that I didn't get a chance to wash first, alongside new backpacks, and lunch containers from last year. I anticipate the complaining at pick up that the day was too long, too hot, and that uniform infractions were rampant. I'm the mom with the uniform police officer for a son. He should really get a stipend for his diligent duties.

Each year I anticipate the collection of school supplies, new clothes, and acclimation to early wake up and packing lunches to get easier, and each year the duties progressively get tougher. Returning to routine isn't actually tough, it's just different.

This year I don't look forward to the routine. I like the nebulous schedule of summer and deciding what the day will hold only minutes before getting into the car. I love no homework, no projects, and used swimming suits hanging from hooks in my laundry room. I like warm weather.

I'm adjusting my attitude. The routine is coming and I cannot deny its existence.

Happy first day of school, to me.

Kissing

2011-08-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

My little boys hate seeing kissing. They would never consider kissing anyone other than members of their family and even then kissing is questionable.

The other day I attending a wedding. The first question our youngest asked when I arrived home was, "Did they kiss?" I explained that they did kiss and that kissing is the best part of the wedding. He was visibly grossed out.

His next question surprised me. "Can you have a wedding where you don't kiss?" I had to explain that when he is old enough to get married, he won't be able to wait for the kissing part. I continued to explain that he is going to marry a beautiful girl who loves Jesus and is going to be his best friend. I also told him that he will want to kiss her all the time. He disagreed--with the kissing aspect.

He still doesn't get it. This conversation will have to pick up again when he is 13.

Go Away Fall

2011-08-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

All of the boys attended/worked VBS (Vacation Bible School) this week which always make me feel like Fall is knocking on our door. Go away Fall.

I don't want summer to leave. I haven't been to the beach once this summer which is wrong in every way. Maybe I could quit my job so that I can go to the beach every day in the month of August and be tan like all the other mommies.

Also, as I look back over the summer so far I feel guilty about not providing our children with an incredible summer. I get nervous when I think about that cliche writing assignment which is typically assigned the first week of school. "How I Spent my Summer Vacation." Unfortunately my children will have a very short paper. The paper will begin with "We did nothing" and end with "The End."

I cannot pinpoint why this summer was different from all of the others. Perhaps with two in high school and two in elementary school, arranging the day is tricky. That's my excuse.

Next year will be different. I hope.

How is your summer going so far?

Slight Addiction

2011-08-01T16:19:00.000-07:00

Although it's slightly embarrassing, I have come to terms with the fact that our 15 year old boy, Zac, is addicted to The Bachelor/Bachelorette.

He got giddy this morning when he realized that "Bachelorette-Men Tell All" was recorded, and that after he led a team of boys at VBS, he would be able to watch the show.

At the beginning of each season, he comes in to tell me who he thinks the bachelor or bachelorette is going to choose. I force myself to watch one episode, and throw around my opinion of who will be chosen, just to compete.I am typically off by a mile.

Zac's addiction began earlier in the year when his friends, four girls, would stand around at school talking about the show. Since he often felt left out of the conversation he decided to watch the show in order to keep up with the banter. After one episode, Zac was hooked.

It comes as no surprise then that his anticipation for tonight's finale has him planning his evening around the show. He is smitten. I can appreciate the fact that when he has a steady girlfriend or gets married, they can watch girly shows and he won't roll his eyes during the program or sneak in texting his friends. He will actually look forward to the viewing.

Today, our son walked to Target to purchase some goods. When he got home he told me that he loved shopping. Oh my. He is going to be the highlight of some girls' life. Not only does he watch the Bachelor/Bachelorete but he also loves shopping.

What a catch.

I hope that all the girls know that he isn't allowed to marry until he is 40, okay, 30. And, for what it's worth, he thinks that Ashley is going to choose J.P. I couldn't even tell you who J.P. is.

He's Growing on Me

2011-07-26T17:37:00.001-07:00

What happens when you go out of town with your husband, and Aunt Renee takes the kids to the animal shelter? They pick out a dog. Not just any dog, a small dog, a very small dog, with an under bite and boy parts.

Over the telephone, a few thousands miles away, it is hard to argue and debate a dog purchase when all four children are ooing and aweing at the prospects of another dog. You see, we already have a dog. She's wonderful in every way. She was adopted from a shelter in L.A. I think she worked the clubs prior to our adopting her. She still had glitter in her fur when she came home with us.

We would never do anything to upset the balance of Cali's alpha domination so another dog acquisition would require prayer and careful consideration. The kids however, had their own timeline=now. This urgency came as no surprise since I had been talking about getting another dog, a smaller dog. This idea obviously stuck with the children.

When my husband and I returned home, we had to wait a few days to pick up our newest pet. His purchase was done, sight unseen. The miniature cell phone photos did the dog no justice. I was convinced that a face to snout encounter would soften my heart and that utter satisfaction and bonding would instantly overcome the two of us.

On the day of doggie pick up, I packed the kids into my car, armed with a new collar, leash, and camera. We waited, and waited, and the little kids fought, and everyone was thirsty, and we waited, and we waited.

Finally he arrived, and my face drooped. I couldn't disguise my disappointment. He was too small, too odd looking, and bit me the moment I tried to pick him up to introduce myself. My disappointment was evident, and the children sensed it. I considered leaving him in the parking lot, but decided to reject the first impression and give him some time.

The first day he peed all over our house. He also bit everyone and growled when we tried to pick him up to snuggle. This was not fun. Buyer remorse was sitting in my gut.

The second day he peed everywhere, bit everyone and growled. The third, fourth, and fifth day he peed, growled, and bit everyone, and on the sixth day, we rested, not really but it seemed appropriate to say.

Kramer is wonderful. He is a great addition to our home. He loves everyone and we love him. Cali loves him and that is the most important element. He is especially excited when he sees me, not that I notice.

Buyers remorse--removed.

Heart--happy.

He's growing on me.

Can You Take Our Picture?

2011-07-08T12:11:00.000-07:00

I never mind taking photos for people, never. In fact as an artist, my hope is that when they see the photo which I have taken they are amazed at the perfection, but that part I doubt.

The other day I was with our family at an event. We were all snapping photos of the students before they had to move to another section of the building. There are a group of women with whom I have spent a lot of time over the 10 years at the same school, and a few of us had gathered, talking about our sons and daughters while waiting to sit at our seats.

One of the girls pulled two of the gals next to her and I thought that she was going to say, "Can you find someone who can take our picture?" I thought that she meant the four of us. Just as I was about to step away and find someone, she handed me her camera, ousted me from the photo and said, "Can you take our picture?"

I was surprised that she didn't want to include me in the photo, but I got my feelings hurt, snapped the photo, and then walked away.

I thought that by this time in my life, at my age, I wouldn't care about getting ignored by the cool girl at school or pushed out of a photo with all the popular moms, but I did. That's the most upsetting part. I was hurt.

I wish that I was one of those people who could ignore a moment like this and move on, but I realized that I am not. Again, upsetting.

I wish that I could downplay the incident by convincing myself that the reason I was not asked to be in the photo is because my beauty and self confidence is too intimating and would have overshadowed everyone else. Again, not true.

The truth is, my friend was just snapping photo and didn't think twice about the situation let alone hurting my feelings. The truth is, I care too much about getting left out and about what people think. The truth is, I am insecure around certain people. The truth is I should just get over it and move on.

Since I have the entire summer to forget about the ousting, chances are my attitude will improve with time. And chances are, I will be avoiding all cameras just to protect my feelings.

She's Away

2011-06-30T13:15:00.000-07:00

I have a special clock set up with the word "Kiev" pasted at the bottom. The time on the clock is 10 hours ahead of our time. This helps when I want to pray for my daughter Maddi while she is on a mission trip to Ukriane.

She is 10 hours away. Currently, she is on hour 8 of a 17 hour train ride to Mariupolt where she will camp out with some children for a week long camp. I pray that she is sleeping soundly amidst the noise, and heat. The train has no air conditioning and she cannot open the windows.

I am amazed at her willingness to "Go and make disciples of all nations . ."

I love that girl. She is growing up, and we are losing our grip. That part is extremely difficult.

Some Days

2011-06-20T05:56:00.000-07:00

Some days I just want to pick up my yellow push button telephone and call a friend. I want my mom to drive me over to her house so that we can play a record on her new stereo and choreograph a dance routine to one of our favorite songs.

Some days I just want to fry up a batch of frozen french fries until they are golden brown and wash them down with a cold Dr. Pepper while finishing up a reading assignment for Political Science.

Some days I just want to rush to Andrea's house after sixth period to catch the current episode of General Hospital to find out if Blackie is still in trouble with the law. Andrea lived 2 minutes from school so we had time to watch General Hospital before rushing back to school for track practice.

Some days I just want to spend 2 hours in Sterling Art choosing tubes of acrylic paint and horsehair paint brushes for my next painting assignment.

Some days I just want teach a lesson to a new batch of fifth graders on their first week of school. Their fresh faces, new clothes, and eager spirits are so innocent and refreshing.

Some days I just want to go to the beach all day but get home in time to shower and get to RJ's Rib Joint for my evening shift as a waitress. We ate gobs of peanuts in the shell since they sat in a huge barrel next to the front door. Guests would indulge in the peanuts and toss the shells on to the floor of the restaurant.

Some days I just want to go with my husband and volunteer staff, along with 300 high school students on a summer, week long houseboat trip. We would water ski all day, and at night talk about God, and why parents are so weird.

Some days I want to cuddle with my babies and have them fall asleep on my chest where their breaths are deep, heavy, and content.

Some days I want to sit with my husband on our uncomfortable black leather watching a rented movie from Blockbuster.

Some days I just want to write, for hours; overwhelmed with creativity and quiet time.

Some days I just want to drive to Hollywood to see Cheap Trick in concert with friends from school.

Some days I want to go back to the simplicity before life got complicated and most days I love to complication and pace life brings.

Overtime for the Tooth Fairy

2011-06-17T05:05:00.000-07:00

After four children, 40 teeth, and numerous amounts of dollar bills, I just don’t get excited about the fact that my 8 year old is losing teeth like a puppy, and unfortunately for him, his adult teeth aren’t coming in as quickly as they are falling out. His smile resembles that of an 80 year old, Mountain Dew addict, from the hills of Wisconsin, with no dental plan. However, his great hair and charming personality supersede his shortcomings.

Recently he has been handing me his teeth while I am driving, or yanks them out at school and then hands me his tooth when he arrives home. The temptation to toss them in the garbage is irresistible, but I resist. After he forgets to tell me to put them under his pillow at night, the entire tooth losing excitement is over shadowed with daily tasks. In the morning, when the dollar bill is supposed to be safely tucked under his pillow, in my haste and quick thinking, I throw a dollar bill on the floor and tell him that the tooth fairy must have dropped it. I also grab a dollar from my purse when he isn’t paying attention and tell him that I found the bill in my car. He believes me after he remembers that he handed me his tooth while I was driving.

I’ve considered gently placing a dollar on top of the trash pile in the garbage can and telling him that the Tooth Fairy had to dig in the garbage to find his tooth, but I think that would hurt his feelings.

I have no immediate plans for the 40 teeth I have stored in zip lock bags in my closet and drawers, and honestly, I am surprised that I am still mom by day and Tooth Fairly by night, especially after my 17 year reign. By now the rulers of Tooth Fairy Land are embarrassed by my lack of enthusiasm and by now I should have been demoted to pixie dust sweeper upper or wand polisher.

Perhaps I’ll fashion together a bracelet or choker necklace with the teeth I have collected from my children. Although wrapping them in pretty paper and satin ribbon and giving them as a gift to them and their spouse on their wedding day would make for great present opening conversation.

This tooth fairy is tired. Too tired to do the role justice, but carry on I must, and I do, even if the effort is slight and the pay is low.

The End is Near

2011-06-15T05:22:00.000-07:00

Today I spent my day jumping from one end of the year activity day with first graders at Adventure City, to another with third graders at a pool party. Sitting at a pool, watching boys and girls do endless water activities was quite boring honestly.

What is it about sitting around waiting for time to pass while on a field trip that leaves me so exhausted? I had the same problem when I was a teacher full time. Field trips were tiring.

The first graders were easy. My boy and two of his friends ran from ride to ride taking turns deciding who would have to sit alone. Since all the rides were within a 50 yard radius this made for the easiest field trip, and most favorite, in my 13 years of field trip attendance. In addition, boys, typically equal no drama. I love no drama.

Yesterday I drove 8th grade boys to the beach for their semi annual, end of the year, beach day. I had 7 boys in my car. The music was loud, but again, the drama level was zero. On the way home from the field trip I had to tell the boys in the very back seat to stop licking each other. I have never said that to anyone, yet alone 8th grade boys.

This is the last week of school. While I will not miss the "Do your homework" banter or attempting to concoct interesting lunches, I do know the frustrations that summer can hold. I will also miss that my boys will no long all be attending the same school. Attending a preschool-8th school has some great privileges. I know that the little boys are going to miss having their older brother at school with them.

And so the end is near. The school bell will stop ringing, the backpacks will be put away for the summer, and navy polo shirts and tan pants will soon attract cob webs. I love the summer.

Judy Moody Give Away

2011-06-06T12:54:00.000-07:00

Whether you are new to the Judy Moody book series or have read though them in their entirety, you've heard by now of the hilarious moving coming this summer called "Judy Moody and the NOT Bummer Summer." You also can understand the beauty in taking your kids to a film that the whole family can enjoy.

"When her best-laid plans for a summer full of fun go comically awry, an imaginative young girl creates her own vacation adventures in Judy Moody and the NOT Bummer Summer. Based on the beloved, bestselling book series by Megan McDonald, Judy Moody and the NOT Bummer Summer is an irresistible and delightfully funny treat for adventure-loving kids and adults.
This summer, third grader Judy Moody is planning the most super-duper, double-rare summer vacation ever with best friends Rocky and Amy. Except that it turns out Rocky is going to circus camp to learn to tame lions, and Amy is headed off to Borneo with her mom to save a lost tribe while Judy stays home with her pesky little brother Stink and second-best friend Frank Pearl.
Just when she thinks things are as rotten as they can be, her parents announce that they will be going to California and Judy will have to stay behind with her Aunt Opal, who she’s never even met! It looks like Judy’s best summer ever has just become her way worst summer ever."

This week I am giving you the opportunity to receive a Judy Moody prize pack which includes:
+The Everything Kids” Cookbook
+Pottery Barn “Playful Chef” Cooking Set
+Judy Moody Sunglasses
+(2) Judy Moody Activity Books
+Jump Rope
+JM Not Bummer Summer Book
+Mini Movie Poster
+Mood Rings
+(2) T-Shirts (1 Adult & 1 Kid Size)
+(2) Zorbitz bracelets

If you would like to be entered to win this amazing package of goodies please leave a comment on my blog and I will draw names, and announce the winner, on Friday. Have fun!

The Foibles of Facebook Folly - Part 2

2011-05-18T15:28:00.000-07:00

To prevent your fascination from Facebook from morphing into a wedge driven between you and your spouse the following must be exercised continually:

1) Remember the rules. Mignon McLaughlin said “A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person." Remember why you fell in love in the first place and the vows you quoted on your wedding day. Recommit to the vows daily and to making your marriage successful.

2) Rejuvenate the relationship. When I make a point to schedule in date nights filled with conversation and hand holding, and evenings alone on the couch with my husband, our marriage grows. When I work on making my marriage better I contribute to our growing together as a couple as opposed to our growing apart.

3) Refocus when temptation tickles. I joke about the fact that we need to invite John Stamos for dinner, however, if he did come for dinner and my husband left me alone with John, I may decide that John needed a back rub. Case in point, I won’t ever ask John Stamos over for dinner. I avoid situations that may cause my massaging fingers, or thoughts, to wander. No one is immune to temptation, but we all aware of the illuminated exit signs.

4) Regulate media intake. Set a timer. When I limit the amount of time that I spend on Facebook, I make a point to connect with real friends instead of searching for new ones. Since I realize that in just a few clicks I could potentially be on a page I should avoid, I circumvent clicking by staying put and by not sitting in front of the computer for an uncommon length of time. I also turn off my "chat." I don't want to be chatting or exposing my self to being open to chat with just anyone.

5) Realize the repercussions. I imagine sitting my four children down at the kitchen table and telling them that everything that they believed to be true about me and my relationship with their Dad was a gigantic lie. The damage, guilt, tears, anger, and harm, that would ignite because of an affair aren’t worth the cheap thrill.

There are no doubt voids living deep inside stay-at-home moms, overworked spouses, lonely people, and those experiencing marital misery. A door harmlessly unlocked could be pushed open to reveal a myriad of harmful opportunities, when in essence the unlocked door should be a cry for help.

Whether my first love Craig, has grown to resemble Johnny Depp or Ben Stiller doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that I married a man who adores me, thinks I’m sexy, can cook better than Bobby Flay, and is a Christ following man. Although I may be prone to wander, I choose to stay.

"What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are, but how you deal with incompatibility." Leo Tolstoy

"I have no way of knowing whether or not you married the wrong person, but I do know that many people have a lot of wrong ideas about marriage and what it takes to make that marriage happy and successful. I'll be the first to admit that it's possible that you did marry the wrong person. However, if you treat the wrong person like the right person, you could well end up having married the right person after all. On the other hand, if you marry the right person, and treat that person wrong, you certainly will have ended up marrying the wrong person. I also know that it is far more important to be the right kind of person than it is to marry the right person. In short, whether you married the right or wrong person is primarily up to you." Zig Ziglar

"Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance." I Corinthians 13:7

Marriage is more than finding the right person. It is being the right person.

The Foibles of Facebook Folly-Part 1

2011-05-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

Craig was my first love, and my first kiss as a slight, fourteen year old girl, full boy curiosity. I would walk the mile or so to his house on weekend nights and the two of us would escape to the cab of his father’s Ford to talk. [Ahem]. We were going to get married. This I knew since most of the entries in my yearbook made this future prediction.

After a year into our relationship, my parents divorced. My heart and I moved 20 miles away, and my relationship with Craig ended. I dated other guys, had short and long term relationships, got married, got divorced, fell deeply in love, married again, had four children, and rarely cast a thought in the direction of Craig or our time together. As a happily married woman of 20 years, I had no reason to think about Craig.

One night my husband sat watching a drama on the television in the other room as I sat visiting with friends on Facebook. I began reminiscing about my junior high days and wondered what had become of the friends I held such tight bonds with prior to our move. As I began typing names into the search bar, Craig’s name came to mind. How did he look now after so many years? Was he married? Did he live in my town? Was he fat and bald? These questions plagued me so I typed out his name expecting current photos and information to pop up curing my curiosity. No results. I was still wondered about his whereabouts, so I typed his name into the search engine on my computer, still no results.

I considered for a moment the $2.99 payment which popped up promising more information about Craig but just I was about to probe deeper into my search, I heard my husband’s laugh fill the living room. I stopped what I was doing and rethought my motives. What was I doing? Why was I so curious about Craig, and what would my husband think if he sensed my frantic search. I turned off my computer and joined my husband in the other room, where I confessed the details of my search and assured him of the futility of my actions.

I had no intention of chatting with Craig if my search was successful; however, I am not alone in my being tempted by the titillation of Facebook folly with former lovers and other interesting men who have since been blown into my distant past. It's no wonder that Internet extramarital affairs are rampant, and according to statistics, 1 out of 5 divorces site Facebook as the culprit.

A staggering 79% of the people who cheat on their spouses via Facebook are women. What starts as a curious search often progresses into fantasizing about further connections and physical interaction. The fantasy escalates into chatting, where an emotional relationship is developed, and over time, a physical encounter takes place, resulting in a dissolved marriage.

Although a fascination via Facebook which begins to advance is often difficult to discontinue, Facebook doesn’t cause people cheat on their spouses. Facebook is an instrument, when used incorrectly, can causes men and women to wander, and marriages to disintegrate.

Everyone, while on the computer, should ask themselves, “If my spouse walked in the room and stood behind me, would I feel awkward or embarrassed by what they saw?” Of course the embarrassment of having an 80 pound pig and golden egg on Farm Ville is the exception. Curiosity is often an excuse for something deeper.

Join me for Part 2 tomorrow where I explain the ways to keep your facinations from turning into folly.

White Squares

2011-05-13T13:25:00.000-07:00

My kitchen is home to a large, white board, calendar listing the month and each day written with bold, bright colors. Monthly, I scroll the name of each month, grab my desk calendar, and fill in the appointments and scheduled dates for the entire month.

I use the color red to indicate school information; days off, free dress, and hot lunch, among other things, and black is used for baseball; practices, games, batting cages, and snack bar duty. Anything outside of baseball and school is written in purple, brown, green, or blue. With four children living in our home, the calendar is stuffed, the colors pop around the board, and live appears to be chaotic.

Each day our kids look at the calendar to find out what is happening. If the squares were big enough I would include what I am serving for dinner. Wait, if I knew in advance what I was serving for dinner, pre 5:00 p.m. and the squares were big enough, I would include our meals. This would stop our children from asking immediately after they wake up, "What's for dinner tonight?" Does anyone else find that frustrating?

My favorite part of our family calendar are the blank, white squares. Although they are infrequent, I love them. Yesterday was one of those days. I was giddy. We had no place to go, I had no games to attend, we had no appointments, no practices, and the entire day was blank, and white, with a bold black border. Pure joy.

Blank squares are important. Filling up our kids' lives with too much activity isn't good for our family. They need blank squares, and I need to make a concerted effort to place those blank squares deliberately on our calendar.

Are there enough white squares in your life?

Big Kids and Little Kids

2011-05-06T12:44:00.000-07:00

Photos

2011-04-26T05:54:00.000-07:00

We spent most of Saturday morning fishing through old photos of my biggest boy in hopes of locating something interesting to submit to the jr. high brunch slide show at school.

We sat around laughing at the moments captured through the toddler years with fingers up noses and the infamous naked child covered in bath time bubbles. We commented on the awkward pre-teen stages immersed with bad wardrobe choices and goofy faces, along with the photos rendering forced smiles with siblings locked arm in arm pretending that they never fight or argue.

We joked about which snapshots would be shown at graduation parties and wedding receptions and which had such bad quality that they should be destroyed. Good times.

I noticed a shear drop in photos as the children got older. My photo took, and has continued to take, a serious decline. I no longer load film through the back door of my Cannon Rebel and deliver the used cartridge to Costco in order to receive glossy pictures. I rely on the camera from my phone and a digital camera which mostly sits at home. Admittedly, I often rely on other people and family members to capture moments, and because of my inconsistency, my children have grown tired of faking smiles for photo moments. My photo box lies sparse. I am pathetic, and lazy.

It's true what they say about the youngest getting the least amount of photos taken, but it isn't right. I need to man up, get rid of my lazy pants, get out the camera, and start shooting an insane amount of pictures. Perhaps then, I can at least feel better about myself regardless of whether or not the photos that I take turn out well.

Encourage Me

2011-04-13T09:54:00.001-07:00

The other night my 14 year old boy came into the kitchen where I was putting away the last bit of clean dishes from the dishwasher. He surprised me with these words, "Thanks for all you do Mom. Thanks for taking care of us and working full time too. I don't say that enough." I was so appreciative of his words. Did I mention that he is 14? Did I also mention that he gave me a hug and a kiss? I wish that I could put that moment into an envelope and save it forever.

Those words from my son help me every day. I need those words. Encouraging words keep me going. My husband is very encouraging too. He often tells me that he is crazy about me and often lets me know that I am appreciated. I need to know that what I do matters. We need to raise kids who are encouraging. This is important.

I try to make a point to say what I am thinking. By that I mean, after the social filter kicks in and something kind comes to my mind like, "That lady has cute shoes" I make sure to tell the person. If I walk into the room where my daughter is doing homework and think, "Wow, Maddi's room looks clean," I make a point to say it out loud to her instead of keeping it inside my mind.

If I notice that one of the boys put did well on a school paper or a teacher sends me an e-mail regarding their good behavior, I like to make a huge deal about it and remind them that they are smart and capable. I text my big boy and tell him that I am proud of his good choices.

When I remember, I tell my husband how much I appreciate his taking the boys to school each morning or how nice the yard looks after he grooms and mows the grass. I also like to thank him for working hard for our family.

Our children, spouses, co-workers, friends, neighbors, family members, and even strangers, need encouraging words from us. A great way to know if someone needs encouragement is to check to see if they are breathing. If they are breathing, they need encouragement. Although I don't always remember to say encouraging things to people, I try. I know that the simplest words and get people though the worst of days.

Who can you encourage today?

Disconnected

2011-04-05T05:01:00.000-07:00

Lately, my computer has been having issues. In addition to being sluggish after it boots up I discovered that my e-mail cannot update because there is no connection to the Internet when first powered up. I realize this quickly since a warning shows up in the bottom bar which read "Disconnected" next to a red circle with an "X" in the middle.

After a few frustrating moments, I restart my computer and suddenly the connection to the Internet is restored. There is no rhyme or reason for the onset disconnection, and I would never attempt to understand the mind of my computer. That would entail math-ish skills to which I have never been accustomed.

I wish there was a warning sign when I was becoming disconnected in my relationships. Perhaps a red circle with a black "X" in the middle could appear above a persons head warning me that I haven't make a significant connection with them lately. Instead of too much time passing between date night with my husband or one on one time with one of our children, the red circle or the word "disconnected" could float around reminding me to connect.

I know the repercussions of my being disconnected from God. I am irritable, snappy, and have an all around bad attitude. I'm not very nice. A warning would be helpful since often times the disconnection is clouded over with busyness and the bad attitude sneaks up on me.

I also know the repercussions of my being disconnected from those I love. I feel distant, insecure, and edgy. Again, a prior warning would be helpful.

In order for relationships to grow and sustain there needs to be a connection. I need to spend time with God through reading His Word if I want my relationship with Him to grow.

If I want my marriage to grow and sustain, I need to make a connection with my husband. I need to talk with him often, spend time with him, and schedule date nights.

The rules apply to the relationship with my children, family members, and friends. Those with whom I spend time, are the ones with whom I feel most connected.

I love feeling connected to those I love.

Since disconnection in relationships comes without warning it is up to me to habitually connect. And when I don't, I know that all I need to "restart" with a phone call, text, e-mail, or quiet time.

Perspective

2011-03-23T05:13:00.000-07:00

Our church is located eleven and a half miles from our house. This is not a huge distance but considerable enough. With toll fees, and the gas price increase, I have estimated that a round trip adventure costs $12.00. I drive a 15 year old beast of a car. That is considerable.

Our seventeen year old daughter is highly involved with the youth group at our church. Since she does not drive it is up to my husband and me to drive her to her many affairs which happen at our near our church. Normally, driving our teenager to an event at church would be a joy. I could think of worse places a teenager would want to be on a biweekly or more basis. However, since I am employed by our church, the driving eleven and a half miles twice a day wears me down and becomes expensive so I complain, “Why does she have to be at church so often? I am so sick of driving out there.”

The other day I was in line for the self-checkout at the grocery store. A young teenage girl who appeared to be 15 stood with her friend in line behind me. In her hand was a small, rectangular, box. After having 4 children and being pregnant 8 times, I recognized the size and font to be a box containing a pregnancy test. Nervously the girls attempted to rush through the self-checkout kiosk in hopes of shoving the box in their bags for no one to notice. Their rushing backfired into beeping machines, a lengthy checkout, and a myriad of people waiting to use the register.

As I left the grocery store I thought to myself, “Either that child is about to breathe a sigh of relief or launch into a mess of stress and anxiety.” I thought about the repercussions emotionally and physically. I drove home sad.

I began thinking about our own teenage daughter, her involvement with church and Christ following students, and her upcoming mission trip to Ukraine. I also thought about how much I complain about the frequency of dropping her off at church. I remember that her body is void of piercings, her hair is a normal color, she gets good grades, does what we ask her to, and that boys are not a priority in her life, and that she probably cannot correctly spell teenage angst.

I vowed to never complain, out loud, about driving her to church.

My Mother Isn't Allowed to Die, Ever

2011-02-23T05:31:00.000-08:00

I talk to my mother almost every day. Sometimes it is a quick text filling her in on the daily schedule and other times our phone conversations last 20 minutes or longer. I know her schedule and she knows mine. She knows when to call the house phone and when to call my cell. She also knows where I am most of the time and that if I don't answer my phone I am either jogging, blow drying my hair, showering, or in a meeting.

I know her schedule too. I know that if I need to call her at 10:00 in the evening she will probably still be awake, reading in bed. If I call at 7:30in the morning she is awake, drinking her coffee. On Tuesday I have to call after she is done with Bible Study, but she will answer a text message. On Wednesday night she teaching at her church.

My mom is a huge help for our family. She brings the kids home from school, shuffles them to baseball and vocals practice, makes popcorn for an after school snack, and makes sure the homework is started before I arrive home from work.

In addition, she grabs items from the grocery store that I need in order to prepare dinner, stocks our refrigerator with necessities, takes the boys to the barber shop for haircuts, and never complains, regardless of my incessant asking.

I am grateful that my mom is healthy. I am grateful that she doesn't act like a normal 71 year old. I am bless with an amazing relationship with my mother, and although I realize that Heaven is her final destiny she is not allowed to die, ever. But she already knows this.

Terrible Twos

2011-02-13T13:28:00.000-08:00

My seven year old is going through the terrible twos.

In addition to throwing himself on to the floor when I ask him to get ready for baseball practice he struggles through accepting the responsibility for clearing the dinner table by tossing back his head in disapproval and letting out a deep, bear-like growl.

He tells me that he loves me but shares his disappointment when told that he has homework to begin or needs to clean up his Legos by kicking his legs and flopping on his bed like a distressed goldfish.

He stops his feet and spins on the kitchen rug like a break dancer when He disagrees with my suggestion for his taking a shower.

His punches his brother in the stomach when he tries to hug him or give him a kiss, and tosses his bicycle into the bushes when I tell him to come inside for the evening.

I don't recall him being this indignant when he was two. Perhaps I have just forgotten.

This week at school my son received the"Kindness" award at school. It is a good thing that he is kind to people outside of our home because I would not be handing that award out to him this week based on his home behavior.

I have a seven year old who is deep in the pit of the terrible twos. Can you please offer me some advise?

Prayer

2011-01-22T09:32:00.000-08:00

"Hurry is the death of prayer. If you rush through all of your prayers it will kill your prayer life."

"Be still and know that I am God. . ." Psalm 46:10

I Just Want to be Happy

2011-01-13T20:27:00.000-08:00

God doesn't want me to be happy, He wants me to be holy.
Happiness is a based on circumstances that I control.
Holiness produces joy when God is in control.

Back in Action

2011-01-03T16:20:00.001-08:00

We are back in action.

Everyone has returned to school unscathed other than recovering from the detox from quitting all electronics cold turkey. Six hours with a pencil and paper be a hard transition from gadgets and gizmos for two weeks. They all survived.

We are back to bag lunches and homework. We are back to "What's for dinner?" the feeding frenzy which occurs between 3 and 6 p.m., and spelling tests. Exciting stuff.

We are back to waking at 6:00 a.m. and cold cereal for breakfast.

We are back in action and thankfully no one has complained and everyone had a great day, thanks to my prayers.

How many days until Easter Break?

Happy New Year!

2010-12-31T05:53:00.000-08:00

I am looking so forward to 2011.

I am looking forward to change and newness.

I am looking forward to writing more consistantly.

I am looking forward to God's favor.

I am looking forward to laughing and making others laugh as well.

I am looking forward to another year of great health.

I am looking forward to what God has in store for me.

I am looking forward to the changes that God wants to make within me.

I am looking forward to obeying Him.

I am looking forward to seeking Him with all that I have in me.

I am looking forward to being the best wife, mother, daughter, and woman that I can be with the help of God.

I am looking forward to 2011.

They Look Mean but They're Nice on the Inside

2010-12-30T07:15:00.000-08:00

Where's the Break?

2010-12-29T06:22:00.000-08:00

I love how schools all over America call the time off for Christmas and New Year's Day, vacation.

For most children, the time off is exactly that, time off. However, for some students, some of my children, the word break simply implies some time off mixed in with a day or two of homework and keeping up with school work.

My nine year old should be practicing his "nines" in multiplication. This mama doesn't want to quiz a reluctant child on nines.

My nine year old should be reading for 15 minutes every night. Do teachers honest believe that a kid home for Christmas vacation is going to read silently each night? He doesn't feel like reading, and frankly, I don't blame him. For some 3rd graders reading feels like school. I get that.

Thankfully my first grader has no school type expectations during his vacation although, I'm sure his teacher would appreciate his reading a few books. I told him that reading directions to constructing his new Lego's and for his new Kerplunk game counts. Don't mind the fact that Lego directions only have pictures.

We played a raucous round of Apples to Apples with the cousins on Christmas day. I'll be sure and note to his teacher that he now understands the definition of effervescent, and how Plumber's Crack could be considered Abrasive.

My biggest boy is supposed to be working on a science project. He's not so desperate to discover the amount of time it takes for chewing gum to dissolve in one's stomach. Although chewing enough gum to develop a one pound ball of bubble gum and soaking the mound in silica acid sounds intriguing, it's vacation.

My daughter needs to read, sketch, and study, none of which she is eager to begin. She sunk into the vortex of teenage stay up until midnight doing nothing and sleep in until 12:15 to wake up to a full day of doing nothing. Doing nothing all day is so exhausting. I get that one too.

So where's the break? What do people who take vacation literally do about the expectations? They must ignore them like I do. Either that, or they have those cute, over achieving kids, who loathe not staying up on school work and can read a novel a day donning a smile of pleasure. I want to borrow those kids for 24 hours to see what kind of influence they would have on my own children.

Thursday is the day. We will read, begin science projects, practice nines, and study, however, this mama will be doing it begrudgingly. After all, it's supposed to be my vacation too.

Not the Happiest Place, Today

2010-11-23T05:26:00.000-08:00

Monday is my day off. Since all of the kids have the entire week off, and were home today, I thought it would be the perfect day to use our annual passes and take a trip to Disneyland. I packed all the kids in the car and we journeyed the 20 minutes that it takes to drive to the city of Anaheim, CA. Although I was hoping that today would not be a busy, my image of 5 minute lines was shattered the moment I exited the freeway.

People were all over the sidewalks, the drop off area was blocked, buses and shuttles jammed the street, and the parking line resembled Fourth of July morning at the "Happiest Place on Earth" (the busiest day of the year).

There were wall to wall people on every street and corner inside the park. Getting from one ride to the next took a great amount of time as we shuffled around strollers and families. The average line was 50 minutes and it took over two hours for us to ride two rides.

The worst moment came when we decided to stop for lunch. I had never seen the Hungry Bear Restaurant line extending as long as it did today. As the kids sat at the table waiting for their meals. I stood in line. I began muttering words under my breath in my frustration. The line we were standing in seemed to never move. From the time we entered the line to the time we sat down to eat was over an hour.

After lunch we left. I couldn't bear the crowd any longer, and the kids felt the same as I did. For once, we were happy to leave Disneyland and grateful to board the tram which took us to my parked car. We were also grateful that our admission was covered by an annual pass which is good for the entire year.

We stopped at Starbucks Coffee to sooth our nerves, and all was good by then.

Never again will I attempt to take my children to Disneyland the week of Thanksgiving. Lesson learned the hard way. Today, Disneyland was not the happiest place on earth.

Bonding

2010-11-22T04:19:00.000-08:00

There is nothing consistent about where we decide to sit for dinner. We have a beautiful counter top with four bar stools which rarely gets used and a dining room table which seats six and gets used periodically. I'm the mom who lets her kids eat atop T.V. trays in front of the television screen. Although this doesn't happen for all meals it almost always happens for breakfast. Our living room carpet is old, so a dropped syrupy waffle piece would add to the mosaic of stains and spots.

I like to make eating dinner at the dining room table a priority when everyone is home at the same time. We take turns sharing about the day's highs and lows. I know how important this exercise is for family bonding although some family members would disagree. Siblings interrupt each other or disregard the excuses given for what defines a "high" for the day. P.E. is never an acceptable "high" due to it's predictability and neither is the answer, "I cannot think of one."

The "lows" for the day come in a wide variety. They range from having a teacher lecture too long, to my forgetting to put a drink in their lunchbox, to being chased by screaming girls. I'm sure the fourteen year old would love the seven year old's problem of be chased by screaming girls.

Or youngest was complaining today because, "We always eat together at the table." [insert whiny voice and droopy shoulders]. He is obviously vehemently opposed to creating life long memories while bonding together.

Although eating together is often a struggle I realize that it is an important moment in our day. Carving out this time releases stress, draws us together as a family, and instills value in making time to build relationships. Although I know that it cannot happen every night I need to make eating together a priority, and, know that when I am sinking into the depths of laziness I will forgo the bonding and pull out the T.V. trays. I am a work in progress.

Sitting

2010-11-20T11:02:00.000-08:00

Every Saturday I sit. I wait for our 14 year old while he spends two hours in an acting class. The class is 25 miles from home so dropping him off and picking him up at the end of the class is not an option.

I am always the first to raise my hand and offer to drive him to class because I enjoy the sitting. I enjoy drinking coffee and hanging out with my computer. I enjoy the fact that no one is beckoning or demanding anything from me. I enjoy watching other people drinking coffee and plucking away at computer keys. I feel normal.

I miss time like this. Since returning to full-time work relaxing has become more difficult. I feel guilty for pulling out a magazine at home and sitting on the couch and my writing brain seems constantly stuck in the "off" position. If I am at home there is always something to do so I do it.

My time on Saturday is forced relaxation. I don't take my work computer but instead take my personal computer. I stick headphones in my ears so that I cannot hear my phone. I feel free. I feel guilt free.

Although my two hours goes quickly, I love Saturday.

Cross Training

2010-11-11T05:40:00.000-08:00

I don't enjoy cross training. Running works for me so I stick with it. Although I enjoy rollerblading and riding a bicycle, I always feel like I won't contribute to the sweat factor, multiplied by muscle exertion, with either of the other cardio exercises unless I spend 2 hours doing them. Stupid, I know.

Cross training in life is different. I like cross training in life. I don't enjoy doing the same thing every day at work so I chose a job with flexibility and constant fluidity. Since I have four children, nothing is the same at home other than homework and packing lunches.

At the moment I am completely overwhelmed. Our weekly home schedule is packed but not out of control while my work load is out of control. The waterline is so high I am drowning, for now. I know that the waterline will not always be this high and that often life's waterline fluctuates just as it does during the rainy season and seasons of dry weather.

I miss writing. I miss relaxing with a magazine or in front of a sitcom on television. I work all day and finish things up at night. "You're still working?" my teenage boys questions as he walks into the kitchen. When I nod my head while tapping on the computer keys he asks me why. I tell him the story about my waterline at work but before I can finish he is grabbing a snack and leaving prior to the conclusion of my eloquent story. He obviously isn't interested.

I'm feeling the pull of wanting to be here when the kids get home from school to ask them about their day over salty snacks, but for now I arrive home after 5. When I arrive I am plagued with questions, whining, complaints, and comments. I try not to react and to listen instead. I try to be patient and spend time with each child devoting my moment with them to engaged, active, listening butmy mind is on dinner plans and the next appointment,

Right now the cross training is difficult.

The sameness would be a welcome addition to my day, however, that will have to wait until Christmas. I am asking Santa for big sack of sameness with a side of extra time.

Black Beauty

2010-11-01T08:48:00.000-07:00

The highlight of our kids' weekend was not the anticipation of candy collecting, not the costume hunting, not the delicious tacos, not the cousin party or the long afternoons jumping on the trampoline. The highlight was Black Beauty.

Since my husbands company needed a van this week for a site tour of southern California, he was in charge of renting the transportation. The long drives would mean that entertainment was necessary and amenities were a must since the big executives were in town.

In walks the Dodge Sprinter better known as Black Beauty. She comes complete with 6 leather bucket seats, a leather bench seat, an Xbox game system with wireless controllers and headphones, a DVD player with a flat screen and WiFi. Our four kids drooled all over themselves when Black Beauty pulled up in front of our house on Saturday. They immediately asked for a ride after grabbing an Xbox game and a laptop computer to test the promises that Black Beauty said she would deliver.

I drove around our city for 30 minutes while like a broken record the children insisted that this van was the coolest thing ever. We drove Black Beauty to church on Saturday night, toured the city again with the neighbor boys, and entertained teenagers on Halloween night with chauffeured drop offs to different neighborhoods while music blared from the surround sound speakers.

We teared up today as we all bid a farewell to Black Beauty. She had more important business to conduct. We look forward to her return in January, and perhaps then she can stay a bit longer.

I'm adding Black Beauty to my Christmas list and removing everything else. I love her.

What Takes so Long?

2010-10-27T05:08:00.000-07:00

What takes me so long to get ready int he morning? Where does the time go? These questions plague me every time I get into my car to go to work and notice how much time has passed from the moment I said good-bye to the school go-ers to the time I actually arrive at work.

I tried to figure it out one morning. Was blow drying the culprit? Was getting side tracked with breakfast dishes and checking e-mails the sticky slow down? It can't be the coffee. I need the coffee.

After thinking through I finally realized the problem. It was make up application. To be more specific, mascara application. Getting seven coats of waterproof mascara on thin, wimpy eyelashes takes time. If I eliminated mascara application from my morning routine, I could shave off at least ten minutes, however, I am not willing to part with, reduce, or eliminate any part of my mascara application. I guess I'll just have to wake up sooner, or go to work with wet hair.

The thick mascara is a must.

My Sweet Girl

2010-10-25T05:13:00.000-07:00

My Sweet Man Boy

2010-10-22T05:48:00.000-07:00

God and Rain

2010-10-21T05:09:00.000-07:00

Lately we have been having some very uncommon weather in the form of rain. After two days of eighty degree temperatures, we have 4 days of clouds and pouring rain. My kids just aren't used to thunder storms so having them has been a thrill. However, the dog shakes violently from fear.

The other day my youngest who is seven and in the first grade told me that he and the neighbor boy make some decisions about God and the rain. I thought their imagination was remarkable. Here is what they decided:

When it rains, we are God's garden and he is helping us grow.
When there is thunder, God is building something for us and making noise.
The lightning is a result of God taking our pictures. (He needs a flash evidently. The lighting in Heaven washes out Earth)
They even went so far as to say that tornadoes and hurricanes are God swirling away sin.

Those guys are pretty smart.

Zero Period

2010-10-20T05:42:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize that when my daughter was offered the best Algebra II teacher with the price tag of attending zero period that I too would have to share in her early morning experience. Quite a drag indeed. I do not heart zero period.

My 6:00 a.m. alarm is nontraditional. I wake to the sound of a plastic cereal bowl hitting the granite counter top and a spoon being plopped into sugared cereal and cold milk. My daughters vacillates between Lucky Charms, Crunch Berries, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Trix. Yes, I am that mom. I grew up on sugar cereal and never grew a questionable boil or lost clumps of hair. Unfortunately she doesn't understand quiet, and six o'clock, and our bedroom door is open so the dog can sleep at the foot of our bed, and I had four children and wake when an spider drops a web.

We leave the house when the sun is still yawning from slumber and few cars occupy the road. The rest of the house is still drooling on pillows as I grab a fresh cup of coffee and my daughter her tea. I try to make conversation, but we are both too tired to engage. We only mutter "gross" when we drive past road kill or "ugh" when we see people running up the hill near our house. I run, just not when it is cold and dark. I have limits.

Zero period means that I begin yawing at 3:00 p.m. and have to force myself to mentally gear up from working all day to concentrate on spelling test reviews, emptying backpacks, shuffling children to practices and church activities, and cooking dinner. I really wish that cheap fast food had the nutritional rating of a pot of steamed veggies and that 3rd grade homework only took ten minutes.

Next year I am opting out of zero period. I don't care if Justin Bieber is teaching 12th grade math. She is going to have to be the only senior who doesn't have Mr. Bieber for a teacher, because I need one more hour of sleep every morning.

Complaining

2010-09-13T08:22:00.000-07:00

I'm working on not complaining about current situations.

I complain that it is hot in the summer and cool in the winter. On the off days of the season, I complain that the summer is too cool and that the winter is too warm.

I complain that the kids are bored and need to go back to school, then I complain that the kids are back to school and making lunches and overseeing homework completion is stressful.

I sleep in and complain that I wasted the day. I arise early and complain that I am too tired to complete normal tasks.

I complain that cooking dinner timely and we never have the correct ingredients. When I have a menu completed and the ingredients stocked, I complain that cooking dinner takes energy that I don't have.

I complain that there is nothing on television worth watching and then I complain that I stayed up too late watching a meaningful television show.

I complain that the kids don't do enough and that I do all the picking up and cleaning up. I then complain that the toys aren't properly stored or the sports equipment isn't organized correctly.

I complain that my car is old and uncomfortable, and sucks the gas, but refuse a new car payment.

I have resolved to enjoy today just as it is. Whether it is cold or warm, whether the house is messy or clean, whether I cook dinner or grab fast food, whether homework is beckoning or the appointments need to be made, I will "Rejoice in the Lord always" and count the blessing of another 24 hours of life, breath, and great health.

Will you do the same?

The Boys are Back

2010-08-25T10:05:00.000-07:00

My family is back to normal.

The boys are back, and the chatter has returned. I am thrilled to have everyone home again. Although I had a taste of what an empty nest might resemble, I am in no way ready for an empty nest. Although having frozen yogurt for dinner is great, it's isn't ideal.

The arguing has begun.
Dinner was boisterous.
They are asking what we are going to do today.
One is complaining that he doesn't want to read.
My daughter says that she needs more school supplies.
The dishwasher filled quickly.
The laundry room is bursting.
I need to vacuum again.
The toilet seat is up.
There are toothpaste smears on the bathroom sink.
The beds are disheveled.
Someone crawled in bed with me at 4:00 a.m.
My computer was taken over at 8:00 a.m.
ESPN is on the television screen.

And, I LOVE it.

Warts

2010-08-24T05:20:00.000-07:00

I used to have warts when I was younger. My brother had them too. I used to get plantars warts on my feet. Those were painful.

Two of my four children have warts. Why is that? I don't know much about warts, but I do know that they are a virus, genetic, and well, gross.

My youngest boy has ten warts on his hands and arms. My oldest boy only has one. What makes some children immune to warts and some littered with them? That a rhetorical question unless you are a wart expert.

I've heard that covering the warts with duct tape removes them after a while, but that sounds like a lot of sticky work. I can imagine that pulling off duct tape that is stuck to arm hair hurts.

This is the week. This is the week for haircuts, new shoes, school supplies, and burning off warts. I'll bet that last one didn't make your list of "to-do's" for the week. Lucky you, really.

Still and Quiet

2010-08-23T05:57:00.000-07:00

I am shocked that I haven't talked about the fact that my three youngest, all boys, have been in The Great State of Ohio (I have been forced to say that now) since August 17 with my mom.

I'm guessing that I have kept from boasting about my lack of schedule, and feeling whimsical and free, would send my mind into a frenzy of guilt. Ah heck, let's call a spade a spade. I have deeply enjoyed the still and quiet days. Sure, I miss them terribly, but having alone time has been so pleasant.

My teenage girl, who loves to hang out in her cave called a bedroom, eats breakfast at 11:00 a.m., figures out lunch at 3, and begins with questions about dinner at 7:00. She really is, no hassle.

My husband and I have been on a second honeymoon, borrowing a friends home at the beach for a couple of days, enjoying date nights at the movies, and filling the void from chatter and chaos with sweet conversations, hand holding, and quiet nights reading in bed. Ahh.

The boys return on the 24th. I look forward to their return and hope that they are missing me as much as I am missing them. Until then, I will write, listen to music, have dinner whenever I want to, stay up late, and enjoy the still and quiet.

This too, shall pass.

That Hurts

2010-08-12T06:18:00.000-07:00

Given the right situation, I don't mind criticism, corrective criticism. However, I am not a big fan of criticism with no rhyme or reason. I also don't like how the non-corrective criticism sticks with me for such a long time, wearing down my self-esteem and crushing my joy.

At times I ask for corrective criticism when it comes to my writing, raising kids and making parental decisions, with my job, and marriage. As long as the correction is laced with love and honesty, based on biblical principles, and the criticiser is looking to make me a better person with godly character, I can handle it, mostly, with a lot of prayer.

So, if you decide to criticize me, just know that you need to hug me while you are doing it, or end your critical comment with a colon and parentheses. That way the blow doesn't hurt as badly.

Waiting

2010-08-10T04:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not very good at waiting. I am better at waiting when I am aware of the end time and have a clear understanding of why I am waiting.

Today was a marathon wait day. I sat in the podiatrist office for an hour with my daughter, watching other people enter and be called back to the back before us which always frustrates me.

I finally asked the receptionist for the reason why so many others were called back before us. She informed me that she was waiting for the insurance company to approve our visit. Had she told me this, I would have understood, however, why didn't she ask for my insurance information when I made the appointment for my daughter and get approval then?

My daughter's appointment was scheduled for 10:00. We were called back at 10:45 and waited another 15 minutes for the doctor. After a surgical procedure was performed to help an ingrown toenail, we finally exited the office at 11:50. Ugh!

I was home for an hour and 40 minutes and then we had to leave a 1:45 appointment at the orthopedic doctor's office for my son's cast removal and x-rays. After waiting to be called back, waiting after the cast removal for x-rays, waiting after x-rays for the doctor to read them, and waiting for a new cast to be molded onto my boy's arm, we arrived home at 4:00. Again, ugh! At least I knew this time why we were waiting. This made the wait better, but not great.

Note to self: Don't schedule 2 doctor's appointments for children on your day off of work. This is not the best use of your "off" time.

Large, Jumbo, and Giant

2010-08-09T05:38:00.000-07:00

Whatever happened to small, medium, and large? When I order a large drink from a fast food restaurant, the soda cup that they hand me could be used as a tank for 7 fish. On the other hand, the small fry that I get with my kiddie pool cup is a small pouch with 13 fries inside.

A tall is not tall. A tall is small. A grande is not large or grand, it is medium, and normal sized. And a vente is Italian so I don't have any clue whether that is big as in fish tank size, or large as in slightly bigger than medium. I don't speak Italian.

If I order a scoop of ice cream for dessert, gelatto is twice the price of ice cream and half the size, and a single scoop of ice cream from Rite Aid is large and filling, and only costs a dollar. A soft serve cone from McDonald's is only a dollar, while a small soft serve cone from Dairy Queen is the same size, but twice the price. Personally, I like more bang for my dollar. Taste is secondary.

Although movie concession stand food is off the charts expensive, I do like splurging on a popcorn purchase every so often. While the small size is too small, the extra large is enough to feed my entire family, and the free refill is an extra bonus, even though the price tag should include a pedicure and shoulder massage.

The best popcorn bargain around is the bag of popcorn from Target. With the same amount of trans fat goodness, and fake butter flavoring. I can purchase one bag for each child, and still only spend $4.00. Thanks Target.

The other day we ordered pizza for my son's 14th birthday party. Nine teenage boys have the appetite of a pack grizzly bears waking from hibernation. My husband suitably ordered three jumbo pizzas. Little did we know that jumbo was actually a medium sized pizza, while giant was actually the largest size. We ran out of food and had to pick up 15 hard shell tacos in order to tilt the appetite meter of the starving boys even after we included chips and watermelon. Preposterous.

I would prefer a regulation on sizes according to weight. That way, if I order a large soda at Chick Fil' A or a large soda at Del Taco I am getting the exact same amount of soda. Price would still vary, I'm sure.

The guessing game continues, and so, the next time I find myself ordering coffee, a bag of popcorn, or pizza, I'll be sure and dissect the definition of jumbo, giant, grande, small, and extra large, because for all I know, these could all be the exact same size.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-08-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your father in heaven."
Matthew 5:16

Summer

2010-08-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Text Mix-Messaging

2010-08-04T21:00:00.000-07:00

I have teenagers, therefore I text.

Even if I didn't have teenagers, I would still use text messaging more often than picking up the phone and calling. Texting is less time consuming than actual conversation.

My daughter is typically clear and concise, with her messages, making sure the point get across well. "Going to Chicful-a with a bunch of people pick me up at 10." (note the cute misspelling?) I can understand that message clearly.

My son on the other hand, isn't as clear. "Can I go to the beach with Al?" I knew that Al was his friend, who happens to be a girl, and since I am very close to her mother I said, "Sure." My assumption was that he was going to the beach with his friend and her family. I reminded him that he had plans for the evening, and that a late day at the beach was out of the question. He assured me that he remembered with a, "K."

As the evening rolled in I began to wonder when my son was going to arrive home. "What are your plans?" I texted. No answer. "When are you coming home?" I questioned, to which he replied, "Idk tell u when leaving." I couldn't understand why he didn't just ask Al's mom and get back to me with an answer. Surely he told her that we had plans and needed to be home before dinner. Surely.

As time passed and the dinner hour approached, I phoned my friend. I know, what a concept. She informed me that she was on her way to pick up the kids from the beach, and that they were dropped off by another mom. Picked up? What? Now I was really confused.

The fact that my son was at the beach with friends and no parents didn't upset me. These were all great kids with a capital "G" but, I was upset by the fact that I felt that my son was hiding something from me because of his cloudy texting although he assured me that he wasn't hiding anything.

We texted back and forth until I finally called him to have a real conversation. After some arguing and frustration, he and I cleared the air. He kept telling me that he didn't understand why it was a big deal that he was at the beach without an adult and he couldn't understand why I was so upset.

I explained myself again. I wasn't upset that he was at the beach adult-less, but I was upset by the fact that I felt that he hid it from me. I told him that next time I need very detailed information and that he will not be making any more plans this week. He still doesn't get it.

What is the point to all of this? Next time my son wants to go anywhere, he's going to have to call, unless her forgot how to.

Sometimes I hate texting.

God is Still Good

2010-08-02T16:34:00.000-07:00

I watch a lot a baseball. I like watching baseball, but I'd would choose to watch other shows if I was given the option.

Since I live in a house with 4 boys who love to watch baseball, listening to the commentator's words reverberate off of my plaster walls is a common occurrence. I become involved in the game through some automatic force. That doesn't happen when I am watching soccer.

I've noticed that after a good play or hit, some of the players point to the sky, kiss their fingers and point to the sky or look up toward the sky. My assumption is that they are giving God the credit for their great play, hit, or running skills, or thanking Him, but I honestly don't know their motive.

My kids ask me if the players point to Heaven because they are Christians, I tell them that I cannot don't really know because I don't know the player's hearts. I don't know if they are Christ followers. I don't know them. What is implied isn't always the truth. Just like people who wear crosses around their necks don't necessarily make Christ the center of their lives.

One thing that I have noticed though is that I don't see any players pointing toward the sky, kissing their fingers and pointing to the sky, or looking up toward the heavens when they get tagged out, strike out, or make a bad play. Is God not awesome and worthy of praise in the disappointing moments? Is God not worthy of thanksgiving when we strike out in life.

I too am guilty of profusely thanking God when plans are successful, prayers are answered with a "yes," and when our my car is running low on gas and doesn't run out of gas. However, I'm not so generous with my thanksgiving when our bank account runs low, the brakes on my car begin to squeak, or my son breaks his arm for the third time, even though I should be.

God is still good no matter how I feel. God is still good no matter what situations arise in my life. God is still good when I hear disappointing news. No matter what, God is still good, and I need to be reminded of that constantly. Do you?

I'm Not Very L.A.

2010-07-08T05:50:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege of staying in a swank hotel with my husband last night, compliments of his company. Nice, I know. The thing is, the W hotel in Hollywood was so swanky and so cool, and I am so uncool and so unswanky. However, kudos my man for the nice hotel.

The fact that I have four children and can barely spell the word hotel had nothing to do with my insecurities as I wandered the white carpet hallways with crystal bling circling every peep hole on the outside of every door. Angelina Jolie could have pulled off this hotel and she has six kids, or is it seven? Although without a formal sign, this hotel screams, "No children within 400 yards please, even you Angelina."

This was the type of hotel in which you keep your sunglasses on at night, where the water cooler is stocked with slices of oranges and cucumbers, mint leaves, and berries, and if the wedding ring that you are wearing doesn't have an 18 karat diamond mined from the caves of Istanbul, people will wonder if you made a wrong turn out of Motel 6.

I did my best to fit in. At least my clothes matched, I wasn't carrying a canvas black tote with small plastic pockets to house the photos of my family and children, and I knew most of the words to the songs flooding the lifts, lobby--called the Living room, and echoing out from the doors of the spa. Okay, so maybe I only knew some of the words.

The pool area was off limits unless you were a celebrity, with a limousine full of beautiful people with fat wallets. This was a good thing, since I wouldn't dare go near the pool wearing my 10 year old swim suit and sporting a Target beach towel on my arm. People would point and shun. Shunning hurts.

The valet parking attendants all looked like male models--good thing, and I was old enough to be their mother--not a good thing. The workout room called "Sweat" had free bottles of Fiji water. Another good thing, and each treadmill had it's own television with a touch screen. Again, good thing. Banging my thigh into the bench press while on my way out the door, not a good thing. Not knowing my way around Sweat was very non-L.A.

Bottom line--I'm not very L.A.

Perhaps that is why I live in Orange County. L.A. wouldn't have me, and that's okay with me.

Nothing's Really Mine

2010-07-06T20:35:00.000-07:00

When did my computer become every one's computer? When did my ice cream become every one's ice cream? When did my stuff suddenly become the domain of any and all others? When?

No one wants to lay claim to my bra, my jogging shorts, or my whole wheat English muffins, but the good stuff, they all want.

I hold no grudge or admit any error on my part for being too generous with my things, I suppose it's just part of being a mom.

I draw the line though when I sit to type on my computer and the keys are sticky. Remnants of soda sipped through a straw got misguided and landed on the keys of my computer while some seven year old was playing Club Penguin. I'm not happy about that.

I love how Club Penguin entertains my seven year old and keeps him from spewing snide remarks to others who live in our home, but I can do without the sticky keys on my computer. Really?

Nothing is really mine except the feminine hygene products and tank tops I wear to bed. No one wants those things, and one day, I hope, they won't want to use my computer either. They should really save their money and buy their own.

Her New Name is Junior

2010-07-01T21:43:00.001-07:00

Joy Who?

2010-06-23T20:45:00.000-07:00

I started a class. I actually started a while ago but haven't talked much about it.

Our church offers a counseling training class for 31 weeks. At the end of the 31 weeks, if I pass the hour long interview, and if I'm not a mental wreak, I get a certificate to become a lay counselor. We have a waiting list, and many people come to our church seeking biblical counseling.

My purpose for taking the class isn't actually to become a counselor. I am hoping to start seminary in the fall, and this class is a requirement, although it is quite interesting.

Every Wednesday morning I sit at the same table with the same people, Craig and Shannon. We are friends now, share notes, roll our eyes at the people who ask annoying questions, avoid the homework task, and sip our coffee while listening to the lecture.

Today it was just Craig and I. Shannon is in India with her husband filming his movie. I know, right?

Today Craig said that he was grumpy. I assured him that I would not expect any small talk from him and that last week was my time to be grumpy.

I had a terrible week. I feel like everything got piled on to the same week. Why does it always end up that way. Perhaps I needed to have my character tweaked some. Maybe I needed a few more trials under my belt. Perhaps, I needed a good cry and scream.

I feel more joyful this week. I wasn't very joyful last week. I kept asking God to help me find my joy. I hate when my joy goes missing.

I know that I should be joyful in all situations but not for all situations, but sometimes it is difficult.

My Latest Obsession

2010-06-22T15:07:00.000-07:00

I am currently obsessed with Botox. I am not a user, just an investigator. I constantly look at the actors on television to see if their foreheads wrinkle when they show emotion or if their muscles are stiff and frozen from Botox injections.

"Do you know about Botox?" my mother questioned recently.

"Of course! I would marry Botox if I had the money."

"Do you know that it freezes your muscle so that you cannot show emotion when people are talking to you. If someone is telling you a sad story, your face won't show compassion. That is terrible!"

"That's why they have greeting cards. They are great at showing emotion."

I'm feeling old, can you tell?

Really, I don't have money to throw away on Botox injections, however, if you would like to throw some money my way, I would whisk away my forehead wrinkles and droopy eyelids in a few short visits.

Not the best use of money, but hey, let's pretend.

Jumping Rope

2010-06-15T03:32:00.000-07:00

Impressing six year old children isn't easy. As it turns out, I'm not that big of a deal, and neither are my jump roping skills.

Since I was experiencing my first day working in the kindergarten classroom I had some intense impressing to do. The fact that it was June 7, and school ended June 16gave me very little time.

If you are wondering why I waited until June to work in my son's kindergarten classroom, I have no answer, other than Mondays are "group" days and they are also my day off. Perfect? No. I'm selfish with my time off, and he is the fourth child. The school allows a lengthy grace period for selfish mothers with four children. That is what grandmothers, who love that stuff, are for.

I had my choice of reading group, craft group, counting group, or jump rope. Since working with the kindergarten groups was cutting into my workout time I volunteered for the jumping rope group. This meant that I would be jumping rope for 15 minutes, with five different groups for a total of 75 minutes. Piece of cake.

I began each new group by asking a series of questions, "Did you know that I used to teach fifth grade?" They didn't care. "Did you know that I can crisscross the rope while I jump?" Again, they didn't care. By my third "Did you know?" they were experts at ignoring my attempts to impress and off like ponies galloping around the blacktop in hopes of combining a jump, with a rope, and a sold landing on both feet. Many failed.

After discovering who could jump consecutively the longest, teaching them to listen for the click and jump, playing jump the river, helicopter, snake in the grass, and mouse trap, five different times, I was finished, and the ache began.

My insides felt like they had be twisted and reshaped, and my butt was on fire, although it was a good hurt.

There are two lessons that I learned that morning: 1)Never try to impress kindergartners by outdoing them with jump roping skills, and 2) If I still think I can wear a bikini poolside, I had better jump rope more often.

Only Slightly Odd

2010-06-14T03:16:00.000-07:00

All kids have a little bit of odd. I find this comforting since my children are proficient with oddities especially in the area of food.

When I recently spent some time with one of my girlfriends, I saw her cutting off the bread crust for one of her children before making him a peanut butter sandwich. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that my children also prefer crust-less bread. I didn’t want to be the only mother who takes time with culinary alterations before feeding her children.

My oldest has a limited diet consisting of pasta, only when it is prepared fresh, burgers, tacos topped with only cheese, and homemade popcorn. She hates Thanksgiving dinner and often eats prior to our going to someone else’s house for dinner. She is limited to three fast food establishments, and whenever we visit a restaurant, she orders chicken strips with a side a french fries, ketchup only.

My oldest eats any and everything; however, he is my high maintenance eater and recurrent muncher. He often requests something crazy like spaghetti and meatballs for breakfast or some other non-traditional item requiring time and effort, and calls for a steady flow of food until he falls asleep. On the occasional restaurant visit, he asks to order the appetizer, man-sized dinner and of course, dessert, while my husband is the one clutching his shrinking wallet.

My middle mister tells me that the chili tastes funny after the sixteenth time I have made the same chili, and snubs his nose as anything which includes the words, “whole grain” “good for you” or “off the beaten culinary path.” His attachment to ice cream borders on fatal attraction, hence the four cavities, and Life cereal and Lucky Charms are the only cereal that he will eat.

My youngest has decided that he no longer likes pizza, anything containing red pasta sauce, or pancakes. He won’t eat rice or noodles without ship loads of butter and salt, eats lunch between lunch and dinner, isn’t hungry for dinner, and then wants dinner before bed time.

Younger children haven't yet mastered the, "It’s not my favorite, but I'll eat it anyway" mindset, and often lock into quirks, oddities, and finicky foibles that only their parents can tolerate, and when toleration works no longer, professional counseling is a must.

I find comfort knowing that every kid has something. While tortilla chips, vanilla ice cream, and strawberries aren’t exactly worthy of the title “dinner,” they falls somewhere in the category of food and I’ll just have to settle for that, and the well known fact that kids are odd.

Stupid Facebook

2010-06-02T17:26:00.000-07:00

My sixteen year old daughter is upset and it is Facebook's fault. Stupid Facebook.

Since she has decided to partake in posting her status on Facebook and reading what other people write, she is now subjected to all of the outings that other people do and that she doith not.

She was crying on Monday because she feels left out. After looking at some pictures that one of her friends posted of them painting a friend's room, she was upset that she was not invited to partake in the room painting.

She was also crying on Monday because "a bunch of people" went to the beach and didn't invite her. "Out of sight out of mind!"

I told her not to take it personally. I told her that teenagers are last minute planners and if you are not standing right next to the "planning committee" you aren't always invited. "Teenagers don't always think of others" I told her.

I told her that she can't be invited to everything because that is impossible.

I told her that she gets invited to a lot of things and she would have been too tired to go to the beach anyway. My words of wisdom fell on deaf ears.

I told her that she should plan something to invite her friends to, and take pictures and post those on Facebook. [insert eye roll here] "You don't get it!" Perhaps I don't get it because we called people on the phone and drove to places together with our friends when I was her age. No Facebook in the eighties.

My daughter doesn't drive. Aha! That must be the problem.

Perhaps if we moved closer to church, my daughter went to school with her friends instead of attending a school that is 12 miles from church, and she got her license, the problem of being out of sight, out of mind would be solved.

Perhaps if she shut her computer and banned herself from visiting Facebook, her feelings of being left out would be solved.

Now there's an "Aha!"

Stupid Facebook.

It's Hard Keeping Up

2010-05-17T08:18:00.000-07:00

There is nothing new about the fact that it is difficult keeping up. As a mother of four children ranging in age from 16 to 6, keeping up with everything is tough.

Like many moms I feel as if I spend the majority of my time driving. I drive to baseball games, baseball practice, doctor's appointments, church outings, church, vocal practice, school, grocery store, Target, here, there, and everywhere.

I feel like I can't keep up. I miss things, I read e-mails incorrectly, I schedule dentist appointments during times that are occupied with other appointments, I forget to return phone calls, and miss voice mails, and that's coming from a person who is highly organized. Yikes.

I don't take one day at a time, I take one section of the day at a time. Please don't ask me about this evening until I get through this morning. I can't discuss tomorrow until I get through today.

I however, in the thick of feeling as if I cannot keep up, love that God strengthens me each moment. I love that I can run to my Father and cast my cares on Him. I love that each day I get to breathe, live, and enjoy my family.

It's hard keeping up, but I love trying.

"With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God."
Mark 10:27

Congratulations, You're a Mom!

2010-05-10T01:05:00.000-07:00

After each sentence, finish with: Congratulations you're a mom!

If you have ever left a diaper on so long that a hard crust developed on your baby’s lily white behind. . .

If you have considered, slightly, leaving your napping baby home for 20 minutes alone while you rush to the grocery store. . .

If every time you pull your jeans on you say “these shrunk”. . .

If you have every used a baby wipe to wet down your preschoolers bed head before school. . .

If you have ever considered shutting your eyes for just a minute while sitting at a traffic signal. . .

If you ever went from thinking that minivans were lame to drooling over the newest model. . .

If you ever wanted to be hospitalized with appendicitis just to get away and be taken care of. .

If you have ever muffled a cuss word under your breath. . .

If you have very spent 40 minutes getting your toddler down for a 90 minute nap. . .

If you have ever had a fit of frustration and yelled at the television, “You have the map Dora, you figure it out!” . . .

If you have ever found anything in your dryer besides clothes . . .

If you have ever checked your kids into child care for Sunday school or Bible study, and gone for coffee instead of church. . .

What are your thoughts? Share your best one.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-05-09T01:02:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day!

Sunday

2010-05-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

Sunday is Mother's Day.

I love my mom. I am grateful for my mom. I am blessed by the fact that she lives 3 miles away, is retired, and helps me out tremendously.

I am blessed by the fact that she calls me "the joy of her life" even though I snap at her and dish out sarcastic comments. I also roll my eyes when she asks a question and don't always treat her in a loving manner or the way that she should be treated. I don't deserve that title.

I am blessed by the fact that we are great friends, that she is a Christ follower, and she loves me unconditionally.

I love that my mom is active, young looking, and isn't stubborn and ornery. I love that my mom loves my family, and make us a priority. I love her heart for God and serving His people and her biblical wisdom and godly counsel.

My mom is in great shape, and gets down on the floor to play with the kids. I love that. She volunteers in the classroom and brings money when the kids need it for a field trip or the Book Fair. She grabs stuff that I need from the grocery store and drives my kids all over town. She is selfless.

The list goes on and on, but this blog post cannot.

I love my mom. What a blessing!

Open House

2010-05-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

I still attend Open House. I have many more years of attending Open House, in fact.

I remember how as a kid, Open House was so exciting. Just the fact that I was actually going to school at night was enough to have me jumping up and down like a kangaroo one hour prior to departure.

My classroom was pristine, the best of my school work was mounted perfectly and displayed before all the attenders, and cookies and punch were the typical fare for the evenings extravaganza. Good times.

Open House isn't so fun as a parent. I rush from room to room never actually absorbing every section and pouring out the accolades as I should. I leave that up to the grandparents.

I collect the necessary reports and art work, chat quickly with the teacher making sure to praise her endeavors, and attempt to ask poignant questions relating to the displays littering the tables, walls, and ceiling.

The night ends late, usually with a trip through the Dairy Queen drive thru, and the next morning is chock full of crabbiness and half open eyes.

I think that schools should schedule Open House like they do parent-teacher conferences. The school is shut for the day and parents sign up for a 20 minute time slot to go, peruse, soak, observe, praise, and absorb, a year full of hard work. On the other hand, it wouldn't be as much fun for the kids, and, isn't it all about the kids?

He Never Sleeps In

2010-05-03T16:09:00.000-07:00

My nine year old never sleeps in. When he goes to bed at 6:00 p.m., he wakes up at 6:00 a.m. When he goes to bed at 9:30 p.m., he wakes up at 6:00 p.m. If napping was still acceptable, he would be the perfect napper.

He falls asleep on the way to church on Saturday nights. If I have to drive my daughter to church after school during the week, he falls asleep on the way home. If he goes to a major league baseball game in the evening, he falls asleep during the game.

Saturday night was man night. My husband took the two little kids out to dinner and milk shakes for dessert. They got home at 9:30 p.m. I had no doubt that my son would be exhausted, but hoped that this time he would sleep in.

The next morning my son woke up at 5:55 a.m. Ugh!

I put to bed at 7:00 p.m. that night and do you know what happened? He slept in. Nice. He woke up at 6:55 a.m. and of course it was a school day. He slept for nearly 12 hours!

I wish that my son can get his biological clock together. Perhaps he will when he is a teenager. I can wait.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-05-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

"Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near."
Isaiah 55:6

No Crust Zone

2010-05-01T09:14:00.000-07:00

I'm semi-childlike in the fact that I don't like bread crust. I chop it off most of my sandwiches. Also, I repel any bread that has grainy, nutty bits nestled inside. I enjoy the whole wheat varieties-sans the wheat kernel chunks. I prefer English Muffins with my eggs. There is no crust to cut.

If I am gathered among a mature audience and attempting to make an impression, I will most likely not pull out my knife and shave off the dry edges. I typically bare through the boring sides of the bread, often gulping water in hopes of adding moisture to the desert-like feeling in my mouth.

If anyone tells me that the crust contains all of the vitamins and minerals, I will disagree. The crust is the same as the middle of the bread. Just because it has had direct exposure to the oven heat, and has turned brown and extraordinarily dry, doesn't make it more nutritious.

I'm the mom who cuts the crust off the sandwiches of my children. I'm the one who has a dog who eats all of bread crust that I cut off of sandwiches. I'm the gal who wishes that "Whole Wheat Uncrustables" didn't include honey with the peanut butter. I give honey a thumbs down also. I need to try "Crustless Bread" if I could only find where it is sold, or continue feeding the dog piles of crust.

The Best Thing Ever

2010-04-29T16:45:00.000-07:00

We spent the day using our passes at Disneyland to celebrate my son's ninth birthday. This was in lieu of a full out, too many kids, stressed parents, birthday party. I was thrilled.

My boy had requested a few gifts on a list that he composed, and everyone missing school/work to go to Disneyland. We let him be in charge of the entire day and didn't make any moves toward rides or food unless the choice was his.

The weather was perfect and the longest we waited in line for a ride was 30 minutes while the majority of them were less than 10. We had a blast.

After his favorite meal of ribs and corn at Claim Jumpper he dropped into bed exhausted. As he was settling into bed my husband asked, "What was your favorite part of the day?" While he expected the mention of a particular ride, the fact that he got to eat ice cream not once but twice, or the new X-Box game he received, he said this, "I liked having my whole family together."

Isn't that the best?

Today He's Nine

2010-04-28T05:03:00.000-07:00

You are in Big Trouble!

2010-04-26T09:13:00.000-07:00

Although I say it often I really have no idea what I am talking about. You see, I am the parent that has "big trouble" with follow through.

"If you don't listen to your brother while I am gone, you're going to be in big trouble!"

"If this room isn't picked up before Trent leaves, You're going to be in big trouble!"

"If you call him a big fat liar again, you will be in big trouble!"

"The next time you scream at your brother, you're going to be in big trouble!"

Note the exclamation points? I sound like I mean business, don't I?

What is big trouble? How does big trouble look? Great question.

Perhaps I have never gotten to the "big trouble" stage so I have never had to consider how it looks, or maybe I have gotten there and just let it go out of sheer laziness. I never claim to be a parenting expert. I used to be, and then I had children of my own.

I will have to consider this whole "big trouble" issue now so that when the moment after not picking up the room, screaming one more time, or not listening happens, I will have a game plan, otherwise, I will be in big trouble.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-04-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

"Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord. Colossians 3:14

Duty alone is drudgery; duty with love is delight.

Name That Tune

2010-04-16T14:31:00.001-07:00

There is nothing like having a kindergartner to bring home all of the songs that you thought you forgot the last time you had a kindergartner, better yet, the last time you were in kindergarten. I didn't realize that they still sang songs at school. Hasn't singing songs been replaced with "401 ways to recycle?"

I'm singing songs like "This Old Man," and "Here We go 'Round the Mulberry Bush." Can I just say for the record, no one goes around a Mulberry bush, nor does any old man play nick nack. What is nick nack? Where are all of the Kidz Bop songs we all know and love? And since we are on the subject, people don't row boats that often, or bring sheep to school. I'm not trying to sound cynical, just realistic.

This afternoon my son was singing Amazing Grace. That was nice, except I felt like we should both be attending a funeral. Please don't play that song at my funeral. I love the song, I just don't love it while I am toasting english muffins. I can't concentrate on the words.

Today I have "She'll be Com'n Round the Mountain" stuck in my head. Just so you know, she won't. . .be coming around any mountain.

Pandora

2010-04-13T04:59:00.000-07:00

I have I told you that I am deeply in love with Pandora? What is Pandora you say? Pandora is a free internet radio station. I simply create a station with all of my favorite music, or all Christian tunes, or all eighties rock, and viola! I listen to wonderful songs from my computer. If they ever play a song that I don't like, I just click on the "thumbs down" symbol and they never play it for me again. They're nice like that.

If I could get Pandora in my car my listening ears would squirm with joy. Pandora is perfect for me because I love variety and discovering new artist. I should be a spokesperson. Pandora should pay me a lot of money to be their spokesperson.

Since I never fell in love with paying for songs on my iPod, my iPod sits, with 4 songs downloaded and a dead battery. I don't listen to any music when I jog, so I really have no use for an iPod.

Perhaps I would find good use for my iPod if I ever found myself sitting in an orthodontist office waiting for my mom to pick me up. However, my mom hasn't picked me up from an orthodontist office, in 30 years.

I realize that I am in the minority for not loving iPods, but I don't mind, I have Pandora.

affirmative action

2010-04-12T03:47:00.000-07:00

Written for Simply Youth Ministry:

I’m affirming, at least when I really try to be. If I were to take a somber look at how I dialogue with teenagers and my own children, I would discover that I complain about their negative behaviors more often than I reinforce the positive things that they do. Unfortunately, I’m more about the “Don’t do that!” and “You need to be doing this!” instead of the “Thanks for doing that!” and “You’re great at doing this!” Did you notice the exclamation points? I’m not very soft spoken either.

Recently I was watching a show hosted by parenting experts. Just so you know, having children automatically precludes me from being an expert. In addition to questioning whether the expert’s teens were better behaved than mine, I was also hoping to learn parenting techniques, which didn’t include feeling guilty for my current parenting performance.

I couldn’t wait until the show’s end since they kept teasing the viewing audience with the one, sure-fire way to get kids to behave. I needed the “one way” especially if the “one way” was simple. I’m slower than most. The parenting experts said this: Reinforcing positive behavior is more effective than repeatedly pointing out negative behaviors. In other words, all I have to do is be cognizant of when my kids behave properly and applauded that behavior, figuratively of course. “Thanks for not slamming your door,” and “I love that you introduced yourself to Mr. Davis without my asking you to,” became part of my vocabulary. People love positive encouragement. No one I know gets tired of being told that they did something right.

What about the seventh-grader who insists on cracking his knuckles during prayer? Ask him quietly to stop, and then let him know how much you appreciate him saving the cracking until after the prayer. What about the girl who insists on taking the lead in every skit? Encourage her to allow another student to have a chance, and then commend her for being considerate.

If it were only that simple, I know. But at the very least, by reinforcing the positive behaviors in our children and students, we are feeding them a plate full of encouragement, which never leaves a bad aftertaste.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-04-11T06:57:00.000-07:00

"Let not the wise boast of their wisdom or the strong boast of their strength or the rich boast of their riches, but let those who boast, boast about this: that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord who exercises kindness, justice, and righteous on earth, for in these I delight."

Jeremiah 9:23-24

Angels Game

2010-04-09T09:38:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to Me!

2010-04-07T15:15:00.001-07:00

Why is it that on my birthday I expect the day to be different than any other? I must be crazy.

When I woke up and entered the shower, one of my kids came in and and proceeded to lay on the floor in a ball while talking to me and asking if I could take him to the sporting goods store. It is still about him regardless of the date on the calendar.

Next, another child came in and asked me to leave so that he could go poop. I left. As I was waiting to return to the bathroom to finish getting ready for work, two more children came and wondered out loud about what I could cook them for breakfast, while the same floor layer, kept saying, "I l-o-v-e y-o-u" over and over again. At least that part was nice.

When there was finally a moment when no one needed me, and the bathroom was clear, I made another attempt to finish getting ready for work. My husband then entered and started showering. As the steam rose, making a thin coat of dew which covered the mirror that I was using, I left the bathroom again and was quickly summonsed over to a recently created Lego structure.

I needed to watch the structure spring into action. I needed to. Although the contraption was impressive, I don't love watching it spring into action in my "spare" time.

I left the house at 8:40 a.m. and was greeted by a co-worker with a large cup of coffee from Starbucks and two cards. That changed my morning.

This afternoon is looking better. We are going to watch the Angels play some baseball, and hopefully no one will ask me to do anything that requires effort. I just cleaned my house, because, I just couldn't sit and relax in a cluttered house. I am crazy.

Disappointments

2010-04-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

I woke up with an acute realization that I had some awful dreams last night centered around the idea of disappointment, and more specifically, disappointing my children.

In addition, their lives were in danger, so I quickly reassured myself that the dreams were fiction and that my children were safe. What an awful feeling.

Since these dreams come after the fact that I had my son get a ride to and from baseball practice from another mom, even though her son was not attending practice, I knew that my guilt was being manifested in my dreams. I had date night with my husband and needed some pick up and delivery help from a friend. Is that bad?

Also, since I have had my fair share of missing baseball games, showing up late to pick up my children from practice, and missing out on watching my daughter sing at church, it is no wonder, that "Disappointing Others" was the title of my dream series.

I'm not the mom who drops everything to attend every child event, nor am I the mom who shows up on time to baseball games in order to absorb in detail, every boy at bat, and play on defense. Life happens, I have other things going on.

I'm not the mom who drops everything to attend the awards banquet after my child says, "You don't need to be there, really."

I did need to be there, really.

I'm not the mom who holds a bouquet of balloons announcing, "Welcome Home!" when my daughter flies in from Africa, but I do greet her with hugs and tears of joy. Doesn't that count?

I miss things. I mess up. I should make a better effort, and try harder to not disappoint, or wake up each morning feeling guilty.

My Ratings are Decreasing

2010-04-05T11:08:00.000-07:00

If there is anyone who is still reading my blog and cares to know, my ratings are decreasing. Evidently the amount of people who follow my blog has decreased from 32 to 30. I know, 32 isn't all that impressive either, however, I'm thrilled with any readers, honestly.

The fact that I have not updated my blog in two week may have something to do with the lack of readership. The fact that I'm not as consistent in my posting may be to blame, or the fact that there are other blogs that are more exciting, may be the culprit. One may never know.

I have friends out there in "blog land" who have 400 followers, and update daily. They are diligent about posting, having posts with significant information, fun posts, or posts that people enjoy reading every day. Time just gets away from me. I want to be consistent, yet before I know it a week has gone by without a single post.

For the three of you who are reading this, thank you for reading my blog.

Please don't give up on me. Blame my lack of writing on the fact that I work full time and have four kids. I'll try harder, I promise.

Don't Be My Friend

2010-03-22T05:50:00.000-07:00

Written for the Simply Youth Ministry website:

As a youth ministry volunteer and mother of four I’ve taken many students to different places in my car, but this time was different. Instead of the ASB and drill-team girls I usually chauffeured, I was stuck in my sedan with four girls who were the opposite of sugar, and spice, and everything nice. Yay me.

After a quarter of the way into the trip, while they talked about getting tattoos for their children and how dumb their parents were for making them wear shoes, the girl sitting next to me in the front seat reached for her purse and said, “Can we smoke in your car?” My first thought was “What the?. . . no!” My second thought was, “If I tell them yes, I will be the coolest adult they will ever encounter.” Instead, I said, “If I let you smoke in my car, I’ll get fired.” The answer left my principles intact while at the same time allowed the girls not to feel stupid or to take the offensive. This kept the line of communication open between us, which was extremely important. I wanted to connect with them.

I discovered through trial and error that if I tried to be best friends with students, I would have a ton of text messages in my Inbox, but I wouldn’t be an effective volunteer. If I had chosen to allow the girls to smoke in my car, they may have thought I was fun and cool, but their respect for me would be in question. Eventually, they would have succeeded in taking advantage of my leniency.
The same is true as a parent. While teens are quick to tell their friends that they want more freedom and wished that they could do whatever they wanted, they desperately seek an environment linked to structure and regulation. Boundaries give teenagers security, although getting a teen to admit that would require large doses of truth serum backed by the threat of cell phone removal.

Our responsibilities as leaders and parents are to give our children a sense of being loved unconditionally, to give them a sense of security, and to train them up in the way of God, which may require plastering a “Please no smoking” sign to your dash board.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-03-21T05:46:00.000-07:00

"Relationships thrive with consistent interaction but wither if neglected. Our relationship with Christ is no different."

"He must become greater; I must become less."
John 3:30

Kenya Photos

2010-03-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

Toilets and Seats

2010-03-18T20:29:00.000-07:00

I live with men. Men who lift toilet seats. Little men forget that the seat goes down when they are finished and the handle must be moved to the flush position. I want to hear water swirling and going other places when my people are done using the toilet.

My biggest man, the real man by definition, is fantastic at following the rules of toilet etiquette. He was raised my a man who loves all things clean and was especially concerned with modeling seat down and flush procedures.

Normally, this is not the case. Most men, especially in a public restroom audience, let their laziness fly and perhaps even go beyond leaving seats up and toilets unflushed when left on their own.

I found myself in a situation which required my using a restroom that was gender neutral. Sauntering to the door, a gentleman exited and my shoulders drooped. I assumed the worst. I imagined having to kick the toilet seat down with my shoe to avoid any and all contact with the white plastic, water splashes covering the sink area, the used seat requiring a wipe down from a crisp seat cover, and my nose and mouth having to be switched from the "breathe normally" position, the the "breathe heavily through the mouth to block all smells from entering the nostrils" position. I knew, without a doubt, that a lot of work was waiting for me on the other side of the bathroom door.

To my surprise, the seat was down and the cover was even shut. The "freshen up" bottle was recently misted throughout, and the sink was shiny, and free from water drops. I smiled, mystified, and thrilled that this man had his toilet etiquette in proper priority. I hope that he is married. Women love proper toilet etiquette. I need to send his mother and father a thank you note.

She's Home

2010-03-15T10:22:00.000-07:00

My girl is home. She has returned from Kenya safely with a load of pictures and stories. Thankfully she doesn't want to move there, live there for a long period of time, or even return in the next few years.

In spite of this, she did love every minute of her experience and still loves mission work.

Today she has a bug, of course. School is not an option and her appointment at the doctor's office is scheduled.

She is happy to be home, in her bed, on American ground.

A Post From My Girl

2010-03-08T19:50:00.000-08:00

My girl writes from Kenya:

We Live We Love

Most of us might recognize these words from a song, but how many times do we actually apply it to our lives? Letting people know and showing our love for them. Being here in Kenya has giving me a whole new meaning to the word love. Seeing these kids and their conditions that they go through and the stories about their lives, has blown me away. They are just so open to us and are over joyed to see us. Even today at the camp their were some kids that would not let go of my hand or get off my lap. I love seeing their huge smiles and hearing them laugh. It must be also kinda scary for them if they have never seen a mzungu (white person) in their lives and yet are willing to have high schoolers hold their hand. Such a blessing, such an experience.

Right now i am missing all of my friends and family and everyone i love back in the states (mom i'm fine by the way). I love you all and will see you when i come home.

Kwaheri (Goodbye)
Bwana asafiwe (God Bless)

-Madison Rose Vujnov

Sunday Thoughts

2010-03-07T05:48:00.000-08:00

" 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.' "

Jeremiah 29:11-12

Our Girl...In Kenya

2010-03-06T09:40:00.000-08:00

She is the one holding the pillow in the second row.

This Time it's Different

2010-03-05T10:57:00.001-08:00

My daughter has come and gone many times before, but this time it's different.

She has attended camps, retreats, sleepovers, and week long adventures, but this time it's different.

My girl is thousands of miles away, in another country, away from major civilization, in Kenya. It's just different.

Our house feels extra empty and our nerves are just now settling down after 24 hours of her departure. Something is more missing this time than the other times that she has been away. It's different.

I am constantly thinking about her well being, her sleep deprivation, her appetite, her goods, her needs, her attitude, the depravity she will witness, her energy level, whether her smile is vivid, and her ability to be selfless is obvious. This time it's different.

My baby is in Africa. My girl is a day's travel, 24 hours, away from us, and I am praising God for this amazing opportunity that she has grabbed with arms wide open.

God is big. He will meet her emotional, physical, and mental needs, and I need to just let Him be God, even though, this time it's just so different.

Mondays

2010-03-01T14:29:00.000-08:00

Monday is my day off.

This is the day that I pick up my kindergartner at noon, and he comes home to our house as opposed to going to grandma's house until she picks up the bigger kids. Then, he eventually gets home around 3:30 p.m.

Today he needs me. He needs me to sit with him and just watch him play. Although I have clothes to fold, dishes in the sink to put away, and e-mails to answer or create, this is the day he begs me to lay on his bed while he plays with his Legos.

He tells me stories about what happened at school and creates scenarios with his Lego guys and their vehicles. He tells me about the people in his class, and video games he could play with his Lego guys.

"I need to go Bear, I'm cold." I tell him this after a short while.

He refuses to let me go and fetches a blanket and covers my body.

"We don't have to go anywhere, right?" he asks, engaged in his pile of colored bricks, rubber wheels, and army men, determined to sit without interruption of or time together.

I try to leave again, and he begs me to stay. "Ten minutes" I tell him. "I need to get up and get some stuff done in ten minutes."

"The ten minutes doesn't start until I get all of my stuff on the table." he replies. He wants the time with me to tick by slowly and not be hurried.

I sit.

I drift in and out of falling asleep.

I sit some more.

I listen to him talk and reply when I needed.

All he wants is me. He wants time with me. We don't need to talk, or play, or tell stories, he just wants my presence, so I give it to him.

All God wants is me. He wants time with me. He loves to hear me talk, and watch me play. He loves when I tell Him stories. He desires my presence, so, do I give it to Him?

Not always, but I'm going to try harder.

Sunday Thoughts

2010-02-28T05:27:00.000-08:00

"Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised."

Proverbs 31:30

Ice Cream Sandwiches

2010-02-27T06:15:00.000-08:00

Phases.

Food Phases.

Food phases are rampant in my home.

My kids find something that the like, and ask me to buy more. They then ask me to buy more, ask me to buy more, and then I go to Costco to get the 1000 pack and guess what? The phase ends.

We have been through phases of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, Pop Tarts, frozen taquitos, Pasta Roni, Danimanls, and mandarin oranges, just to name a few.

The latest phase is ice cream sandwiches. After the 6-pack was devoured in 24 hours, I purchased the 24 pack. That vanished in one week.

Although the kids keep asking me to buy more, I refuse. Why? Because as soon as I buy the 1000 pack from Costco, they will suddenly divorce themselves from ice cream sandwiches.

Does anyone need a 100 pack of frozen taquitos?