Mom My Ride

My nephews love the MTV show called Pimp My Ride. This is a spoof that hits way too close to home.

So now let me take you on a tour of my fine vehicle, a 2000 Honda Odyssey. First, we have the front seat. When we left for church on Sunday, I realized that I had nowhere to sit. Most of this junk is stuff I need to return to stores, plus my Bible Study notes, plus a variety of miscellaneous trash.

So I sat in the backseat, which isn't a whole lot better. Here we have a lovely array of children's papers, coupons, receipts, and yes, a toilet seat. David is in the middle of potty training and a portable toilet seat is a necessity. He has poopy issues.

Now we get to actual damage. This is a shot of the wall in the third row. Apparently my little angels have not only been busy drawing on the wall with green crayon, but they've also been so considerate to peel off the fabric in an effort to Mom My Ride for me.

Finally, the brake light. Yup, my husband taped the brake light back together with clear packing tape. (Granted, when his car got damaged he took care of the estimate and repairs the very next day. But my car got some good old-fashioned packing tape. And let's not even bring up the fact that my oven has been broken for two months now!)

What I can't show you in the photos is the fact that the sliding doors don't open from the inside anymore. They broke awhile back so whenever the kids need to get out of their vehicular prison, I have to get out of the car, walk around to the passenger side, and open the door for them.

So what about your car? Post pictures of it and send me a link so we can all commiserate!

My Little Guy

My little David, who is now 3 years and some change, is my daily source of entertainment. He's at such a wonderful stage of development and has a sense of humor to boot, so we get along just fine. He's learned his alphabet and is convinced that every D he sees is for David. We'll be driving by a Home Depot and he'll shout from the backseat, "That's Home Depot. They have a D for David!" He's also very proud of the fact that he is 3 years old. If we ever use the word "three" in any conversation, he'll quickly say, "Three, like I'm three!"

Today Caelyn was looking on the calendar and said, "This year my birthday's going to be on a Tuesday!" To which David quickly replied, "And my birthday's going to be on a Threesday cuz I'm three!"

The above photo shows David trying to be like his Daddy. We were having chocolate-dipped strawberries and David got a little messy, so we gave him a chocolate goatee. It's a good look, don't you think?

2007 Book List

I'm been trying to keep track of what I have read lately, mostly because my brain is forgetful and sometimes I pick up a book and get 15 pages into it before I realize, hey, I've read this before. I've got an ongoing list over on the right, and I probably won't comment much about what I'm reading. But my latest read with truly amazing. "Proof" is a historical fiction novel about the great revivals in America during 1857-58. Bill Bright and Jack Cavanaugh developed an entire series, and "Proof" is the first in the series.

The plot is a courtroom drama where a father is trying to sue a church for corrupting his daughter because she converted to Christianity. At one point the prosecutor tries to subpeona the Holy Spirit in order to disprove his existence. It's a fascinating plot, but the reason I really loved this book is because it encouraged me to pray earnestly for change. I haven't been affected by a fiction book like this since I read "This Present Darkness" in 1990.

Proof by Bill Bright and Jack Cavanaugh (highly recommended)
Ramona and her Mother by Beverly Cleary
Shopgirl by Steve Martin (NOT recommended)
Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes
The Last Holiday Concert by Andrew Clements
The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (highly recommended)
Strawberry Girl by Lois Lensky
Strider by Beverly Cleary (recommended)
Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary (recommended)
All She Ever Wanted by Lynn Austin (recommended)
The Novelist by Angela Hunt

An Egg-straordinary Answer to Prayer

Sometimes God really cracks me up.

Our Sunday school class has an annual Easter outreach at some public housing projects. We always do an egg hunt and last year we noticed that the bigger kids got greedy and the little kids didn't get many eggs. So this year we thought that we should give everyone an egg container so each kid could only collect 12 eggs.

The problem: We didn't have this idea until two weeks before the egg hunt. On Sunday I asked my friends at church if they have any egg containers. Nobody did, and we didn't think we could scramble up 60 egg containers in two weeks. So we decided to scratch that idea and just buy smaller bags.

Then my friend Michelle was driving home after church. Her husband was taking a different route than usual to avoid traffic. Michelle spotted something on the side of the road and shouted for her husband to stop the car. What was there, in clear plastic bags, just waiting for her to find? More than 300 cardboard egg containers. That's my kind of God. Immediate response, abundant giving, and all neatly stacked up in clear plastic bags. You just can't make this stuff up.

Wise Words

The kids and I were talking about television at dinner -- they wanted to watch America's Funniest Home Videos and I vetoed. Out of the blue Kendra said, "When you're watching television, it's like your mind is taking a nap." Amen! It's no wonder that Kendra's name means wisdom.

By the way, Kendra is about 2,400 pages into her goal. She's trying to read 3,000 pages during the school's Read Read Read program. She has until April 4, so she might not make her goal, but she's already exceeded mine. Tonight she told me she wants to write "made-up" stories when she grows up. I encouraged her to write some now, so I'm looking forward to seeing what her creative brain does.

Waste-of-Time Saturday

I really, really don't like amusement parks. (I'm tempted to use the word hate, but that might be too strong.) But here's the rub... my husband thoroughly enjoys amusement parks, Sea World in particular. We have season passes, and last year Kevin took the kids at least once a month to visit Shamu and all his marine buddies. More often than not, I stayed home to do laundry or write articles or do anything other than spend my day at Sea World.

Today, however, I went. My kids really wanted me to come along, and Kevin just got back from a business trip so we hadn't had any family time together. Plus it's Spring Break so we're trying to build some family memories, right? So I went, fairly willingly.

The first three hours were tolerable. The kids love the Shamu rollercoaster, which it a kids' sized verson of a traditional coaster. It's not too thrilling, but the kids love it. And I got a kick out of watching Caelyn raise her hands up and make goofy faces for the camera. Of course, we didn't buy any of the astronomically priced Adventure Photos, but they were funny to look at. It was great to see Caelyn having a blast, when a year ago she cried and refused to get on that same ride.

Then we went to the waterskiing show, which was pretty entertaining. Those people are quite talented and I enjoyed watching them do their skiing tricks. And watching Jessica, who's the "star" skiier in the show, motivated me to hit the gym. You should see the abs on this girl -- they're amazing.

The park was getting crowded, so I went early to secure seats for the Julie Scardina show. Julie Scardina is the animal expert who brings all the fun animals onto The Tonight Show. She had a host of kangaroos, lemurs, alligators, and other creepy-crawly things. I love animals, but it was the exact same thing as last year. And that's where things went downhill for me.

For the next two hours we battled enormous crowds to watch mediocre shows, and I've watched those shows a dozen times already over the last few years. OK, the Viva show was different because the dolphin totally rebelled and wouldn't perform, so they actually had to cancel the show 10 minutes in. Other than that, it was pure drudgery.

The problem with amusement parks is reflected in the name itself. For you non-Latin students out there, the root "muse" means to think, and the root "a" means not. So amusement means your are spending time NOT thinking. And that's not a concept I embrace.

Actually, I was thinking during my time at Sea World today. I was thinking about all the productive things I could have been doing instead. And I was thinking about how much I am dreading our family trip to Orlando this June. (That story is a whole 'nother blog. I'll come back to that trip, I promise.) And I was thinking that I don't want to raise my children to expect to be entertained. Tomorrow's going to be a non-TV, non-amusement, non-non-thinking kind of day.

Not That I'm Obsessed or Anything

Only four months and 11 days left until I can read the final installment of Harry Potter. Yes, I'm a huge fan of Harry. Someday I'll spend some time articulating why I think JK Rowling is brilliant and why Christians should not avoid or condemn the Harry books. (I said books, not movies. I can't stand the movies.) But for now, I'll tick off the seconds until I get to read the final 800+ pages of this wonderful series.

Works-for-me Wednesday

Tonight was one of those rare evenings when the kids had finished dinner early, gotten on their PJs, and we still had a good hour before bedtime. I was washing dishes and noticed how grimy the floor looked. So I grabbed a dry-erase marker and began writing letters on my kitchen floor.

I called the girls downstairs, handed each of them a Lysol-covered sponge and a rag, and told them the rules of the game. When I said "Go," each of them had to find the letters in their name, in order. They had to clean off the letter (thus cleaning that tile), dry the tile, and then move on to the next letter.

It took less than 90 seconds and my floor looked remarkably better. Even more surprising, they had so much fun that David started to cry because he felt left out. So Kendra wrote the ABCs on 26 tiles that hadn't been cleaned yet and we cheered David on as he sought out letters and wiped them clean.

By the way, credit for this idea should go to Trish Kuffner and her wonderful The Preschooler's Busy Book.

And I Thought My Wedding Video Was Bad...

Reason #993 why Michael Jackson is a negative influence on American Society.

Some of my friends know this tidbit about me. When I see people performing and I'm embarrassed for them, I start to tear up. I've cried at church, cried watching Young Life skits, cried watching the Gong Show. If I were actually at this wedding, I would have been bawling with embarrassment tears.

I've been licked by a zebra.

And here's the photographic proof. On Saturday the in-laws treated our family to a few hilarious hours at the Natural Bridge Wildlife Ranch. It's a drive-thru "safari" where you can roll down the windows and feed the animals. I asked Kevin to get a picture of me with a zebra in the background, but my jokester father-in-law held up a food pellet right by my head. Kevin captured my expression just as the zebra huffed and licked me in it's quest for the pellet. I named this one Hally Tosis for his rather offensive breath.



We also were highly entertained by the ostriches, which were rather aggressive and actually pecked at our windows begging for food. This is Buckbeak. Again, I retain the right to name any animal that breathes on me.

The ABC's of Homemaking

I've really been struggling with feeling like a maid lately. It seems that my entire existence consists of cleaning, laundry, cooking, and stain removal of all kinds. I'm no domestic diva, but I thought I would share my insights and opinions about housekeeping. Thanks to More Cowbell for the idea.

Aprons? - I have quite a collection, but I never wear them. I'm actually a rather neat cook unless I'm dealing with chocolate. But I do have a favorite apron. Kendra made it at preschool and it proclaims that I am, indeed, the world's greatest mommy.

Baking? - I love to bake. I'm a super-geeky baker. I actually weigh my flour for certain recipes because it's so much more accurate than scooping.

Clothesline? - Not a clothesline, per se, but I do drip dry several blouses, sweaters, and other unmentionables. I would never hang clothes outside, though, because with my luck a bird would poop on them.

Dusting? - I'm a little neurotic about dusting. I love my microfiber cloths and use those to quick dust. I use damp rags on the blinds and most of the furniture. I use every attachment on the vacuum to dust behind furniture. I really like to dust.

Everyday - One homemaking thing you do everyday? - Wash dishes. That's pretty much it. I don't make my bed every day. I don't do laundry every day. Heck, I don't even shower every day. But dishes? They're neverending.

Freezer - Do you have a separate deep freezer? - Not a deep freezer, but we have a second fridge in the garage. It doesn't work very well so I try to not keep much in it! Things tends to melt slightly and then refreeze. Not very safe, but nobody's gotten food poisoning yet!

Garbage Disposal? - Yes! I take great joy in shoving things down the disposal. Today I made key lime tarts and I happily put the rinds of 5 limes down there. My sink smelled yummy.

Handbook? - A handbook for what? Cleaning? Not really, although I've read Queen of Clean and a few other "housewife" type books. A handbook for parenting? Tons, but we've yet to decide which route we're actually on. A handbook for life in general? That would be the Bible, my friends.

Ironing? - I try to save it for my mom, who loves to iron. She lives 1400 miles away and visits twice a year. And that's pretty much how often things get ironed around here. The only exception is if I'm sewing something. Then I'll iron a seam or hem.

Junk Drawer? - I abhor junk. I have neatly organized drawers that house a variety of things, but I refuse to have any junk in the house. Drives me nuts to own things that don't have an assigned purpose.

Kitchen - Design and decorating? - The walls are Builders Beige, just like the rest of the house (although we're painting in the near future). My decorating is seasonal, and I try to change the accessories based on the weather. I have summer dishes and winter dishes that go with the summer chair pads and winter chair pads. And that's my extent of decorating.

Love - What is your favorite part of homemaking? - I love a clean house, but I can't say I actually love any aspect of homemaking. I'm an organizational freak, but that's more of an obsessive/compulsive thing than an act of love.

Mopping? - I do not mop; I FloorMate. Mopping is gross since you're just wetting the dirt and moving it around. But FloorMating? (Yes, it's a verb.) That actually sucks up the dirty floor water! It's brilliant! OK, maybe this is what I love -- the joy of pouring out the dirty FloorMate water and knowing that all that filth is no longer on my floors.
Kevin mops, by the way. We have a loose agreement that I handle everything from the ankles up, and he handles everything ankles down. He loves to vacuum and he mops almost every week. And, God bless him, he actually dries the floors with a towel.

Nylons - Wash by hand or in the washer? - Nylons? Can't say I've worn them since our wedding. I'm exaggerating, of course, but the last time I went to put on nylons I found that they were all so old that the elastic was shot in every single pair. And I hadn't even opened the boxes on most of them! When I do wash the occasional pair of Spanx, I use a lingerie bag in the washer and then let them drip dry.

Oven - Do you use the window or open it to check? - Open to check. The window is so filthy that it is hardly an accurate gauge on how the food is cooking. Of course, my oven isn't even working properly right now. Every night is a crap shoot on whether I'll cook something edible. Tonight's dinner didn't fare so well. I really need a new oven. If you'd like to donate to my oven fund, I accept Paypal.

Products - What cleaning products do you use? - I've got quite a list of favorite products. Best invention of the decade, hands down, is Lysol Wipes. I prefer them to Clorox Wipes which leave a sticky residue. But I use Lysol Wipes all over the bathroom, kitchen, and even to shine my shoes. Best invention of the 90s would have to be OxiClean. Man, that stuff is amazing.
Other products I can't live without? Comet or Ajax with bleach for the sink. Cascade powder with lemon. Sno-Bol. Mr. Clean erasing sponges for the walls. Scrubby sponges (the gentle kind) for my kitchen counters and dishes. Windex. Lysol for the counters and floors. Dawn dishwashing detergent. Liquid Tide with bleach alternative. I'm very loyal to my brands! No generic cleaners for me.

Quiet - What do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment? - Check my email or waste time online. That's during the day. At night I read or do logic puzzles.

Recipe card box? - I have a three-ring binder. I have a template on my computer for recipes so I can format them and print them out. Then they go into my binder in a plastic protective cover. Did I mention that I'm obsessive/compulsive?
I also have a fairly large collection of cookbooks. The two I can't live without are the America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, which is 1200 pages long, and my good ole' Better Homes and Gardens cookbook with the traditional red cover. I'm a fan of Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa cookbooks and the supersized Southern Living cookbook, too. My biggest disappointment has been all my crock-pot cookbooks. I've never found a crock-pot recipe that I really love.

Style of house? - Kind of colonial. Two story red-brick with big white columns. It doesn't match the neighborhood, but we sure like it.

Tablecloths and napkins? - With three small kids? We use vinyl tablecloths even though I think they're tacky. And cheap paper napkins, but I'll break out the good paper napkins for company.

Under the kitchen sink? - A whole lot of cleaning supplies and two huge boxes of Latex gloves. I can't stand to touch raw meat, so I wear gloves when I make hamburgers.

Vacuum - How many times a week? Usually just once, sometimes twice. Kevin vacuums 90 percent of the time. I try not to look down very often.

Wash - How many loads do you do a week? - I don't count. It's a neverending, continual thing. Maybe eight loads a week? I truly don't know.

X's - Do you keep a list of things to do and cross them off? - Only lists of errands and things to buy. I don't keep a to-do list of household tasks because that would just add to my stress level.

Yard - Who does what? - I am absolutely, positively NOT allowed to touch Kevin's lawn mower. It was in our pre-nup. My extend of yard work consists of occasionally watering the potted plants and trees. And sometimes I remember to fertilize the potted plants, but only when they look really bad.

ZZZ's - What is your last homemaking task for the day? Does throwing my clothes on the bathroom floor count? Honestly, I pretty much shut down after the kids are in bed. I try not to do housework at night, so making dinner is usually the last job of the day for me. I don't even do the dishes at night. The clattering bothers me after a long day, and I like working in a sunny kitchen so I usually do dishes in the morning.

Hey, It's Franklin

It's Saturday and the kids and I have been cleaning house all day. Kendra opened the front door to go get the mail, and suddenly I heard shrieks. I ran to the front door as Kendra was screaming, "There's a turtle!" Shore 'nuf, there was a turtle on our front porch, just wandering aimlessly in a Grapes of Wrath kind of way.
The million dollar question: Is it somebody's pet or is it wild? We live in an awfully dry, rocky part of town, and don't turtles like creeks and wetlands? All I know is that we're not adopting this one. We've made signs to put up at the exits of our neighborhood. Hopefully somebody will claim it. If not, Kevin will be assigned to release the turtle at the closest creek.
If blogs had sound, I would upload the horrifically creepy scratching sound that the turtle's nails are making as he tries to climb out of the cardboard box. I'm getting the willies just thinking about it.

Allergy Epiphany

We're all suffering through cedar season right now, and I would just like to point out that the word snot, reversed, spells the word tons. Lowbrow humor or literary truism -- you decide. All I know is that we've gone through a Costco-sized multi-pack of tissues this month.

And in an update to my previous post, I had no idea that a new double oven with convection would cost around $2,000. Talk about sticker shock. As a result, I'm taking my husband's advice and using the "see-if-your-hand-gets-burned" method of cooking right now. And I put a cheap oven thermometer on the rack so at least I'll have some idea of how to calibrate the temperature. At least I'm not cooking on an open fire with a cast iron kettle.

Top Chef

My electronic panel on my oven has gone completely black, the oven is taking twice as long to cook things as it should, and the convection feature died several years ago. I'm a little concerned about the safety of cooking food when the temperature doesn't seem to be getting much hotter than the girls' Easy Bake Oven. And, considering I had to replace the electronic panel three years ago and it only has a 90-day warranty, I'm leaning toward just buying a brand new oven. Kevin, on the other hand, thinks I should be able to adjust my recipes to make the oven last a little longer. An excerpt of our most recent conversation:

Me: How can I cook if I don't know what temperature the oven is at?
Kevin: You know what numbers you've punched into the panel, right?
Me: The panel is black. I don't even know if the oven is on anymore.
Kevin: Can't you just stick your hand in there and see if it gets burned?

And on that note, I'll be visiting the Factory Builder Store this week to buy myself a new double oven with convection and a panel that has an extended warranty. There goes my hard-earned eBay money...

February Funk

I'm recognizing a few patterns in my life. I get overcommitteed because the word "no" is difficult for me to say. I manage to get through highly-stressful times, although my family suffers a little due to my sleep-deprived grumpiness. And when the deadlines are over, I turn into a sloth. For days.

Right now I'm recovering from a massive eBay sale that sucked two weeks from my life. I also had a massive stamping show in Houston last weekend that required me to plan and prepare 10 projects. I want to be in sloth mode, but I'm currently scrambling to finish a massive proofreading project for my sister. And I have another massive 10-project stamping thing at my house next Tuesday. The theme here is massive, as in coronary.

Couple all that with allergies, a sick Caelyn, a disgusting amount of laundry, a broken oven, a broken toilet, and the daily demands of life, and I'm running on adrenaline 90 percent of the time. Does this count as my aerobic activity for the week?

I know there's a lesson in all this. I just don't have time to process it right now.

Timothy Kyler

The bravest person I've ever known has gone to be with the Lord. Timothy was a 13-year-old boy at our church who battled cancer for 5 years. I got to know the family a little when their youngest daughter, Rebekah, was in my 3-year-old Sunday School class. Rebekah told me many times about her "bubba" and how he was sick. My heart goes out to her as I know she is missing her bubba today.

I don't have the words to express how wonderful Timothy's spirit was during this whole ordeal. I'm just going to reprint what his dad wrote in a recent email. This was written during Timothy's final stay in the hospital.

Thursday, 1/25/07, 10:00am: Timothy is awake and fairly alert, eating breakfast with shaky hands, needing very little assistance. Over the next minute or two, as he, Kay Ann, and I are talking, Timothy's body slowly—but steadily—slumps, his thoughts and words drift, his voice shakes, he speech becomes slurred. His spoon flails aimlessly at the mashed potatoes he's trying to eat. Suddenly his eyes roll slightly in two different directions and his head lists far to one side. I rise from my chair, take the spoon from his hand, gently press my cheek against his, and whisper some calming words—hopefully a lifeline of reality and assurance he can hang onto. In the minute or so that follows, my emotions begin to swell and I tell Timothy (as I have so many times before) how much we love him and are proud of him. No response. My emotions continue to swell. I tighten my hug, press the check just a bit more and whisper some "sweet nothings" into Timothy's ears. Still no response. I say, "Timothy, are you coherent?" Seconds pass without a response. I say again, "Timothy are you coherent?". After a few more seconds, eyes still closed, head still listing, Timothy responds, "Piiiiink Flamiiiiiingos!" My cheek still pressed against his, I said "WHAT?" then I backed away to check out the bigger body language picture. At that, Timothy suddenly and literally bolted to life, eyes wide open and said, "HA! Just kidding! Got you, Dad!" The momentary fade was real. The recovery just as real. The final punchline... all Timothy.

Some verses about our heavenly destination have become dear over the past months. We learn specific things about life on the other side from Luke 16:19-31, Revelation 6:9-11, II Cor. 4:16-18 & 5:10, to list only a few. We've also been reading the book "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn and I strongly recommend you lay hold of a copy. There are many other verses about heaven we've shared together as a family and more specifically with Timothy. I'd like to share insights, but now is not the time.

I asked Timothy what words he would have for us should he be promoted. He thought for a moment, then replied, "See ya on the other side." We endure with joy our ministry for a few short years on this earth and look forward to meeting up with many of you "on the other side."

A most important footnote. Having spoken with him this morning, Timothy wants each of you to know, as he knows, the certainty of your salvation and position in heaven after death. In his words, it is "unacceptable for you not to join him someday for a reunion in heaven." At Timothy's' concurrence and for those of you who may not know for certain if heaven will someday be your permanent home, we encourage you lay hold of the free gift bought and paid by Jesus on the cross as is so well described in John 3:16 and other verses listed below.

If any truth has been gored into my soul through this trial, it is the absolute zero worthlessness of our ability to be righteous before God and earn heaven on the basis of our works. Take Timothy as an example. The suffering of the innocent for something he, from a parent's perspective, does not deserve. The cancer is deadly, the treatments (like our attempts to work our way to heaven), though well-meaning, ultimately bring hurt without cure. So as the chemo, such are our attempts to earn heaven. God has recognized the insufficiency of our works to achieve the standard of perfection for His heaven (Rom. 3:23).

Take Jesus—the only true innocent, out of love for His created mankind and need to atone for and cover sin, voluntarily humbling himself, becoming obedient to the suffering of the cross, momentarily forsaken while bearing the wrath of God, taking the full penalty of our sin on His broken body... that "whosoever believes on Him (His sacrificial work on the cross), should not perish, but have everlasting life."

Now imagine man's rejection of that painful, humiliating sacrifice to pursue a life of works to gain the favor of God and ultimate entrance to heaven. If I were Jesus (humanly speaking), I'd be hacked watching children I've created and loved, literally to death, ignoring the high price I just paid while trying to be good enough to earn heaven. It was the very fact that man was and is hopelessly lost in sin that Jesus decided to pay the penalty by death (Rom. 3:10-20 & Rom. 5:8).

Take a few minutes to read the following verses: John 3:16; John 5:24; John 6:40; Romans 3:9-28; Romans 5:8; Romans 6:23; Romans 10:1-10; Ephesians 2:8,9; Titus 3:5,6; II Cor. 5:21. Also, see I John 5:10-13. Note in verse 13 the ability of one to "know that you have eternal life." If you believe that God loved you so much that He gave Jesus to die on the cross for your sins, and you, by faith, by confession of your mouth by prayer (Romans 10:9), you may be assured of your position of heaven at death... thanks to Jesus. Free gift. Can't be earned, can't be lost. Accept the free gift today.

For the Love of Books

Yesterday I stumbled upon a fabulous website! It's called PaperbackSwap, and basically you "trade" books with other members.

I listed 10 books that I was willing to trade. By the end of the day, I had requests for three of them. I printed out labels (courtesy of the site), shoved them into padded envelopes (optional), and sent them on their merry way via the postal service. I get a free "credit" for every book I send, in addition to three credits just for signing up. So, I get to pick out 6 free books and have them sent to me free of charge! This is a book junkie's heaven.

Shameless Plug

The Amys and I are selling a load of our Stampin Up supplies on Ebay this week. Help us clear out our craft rooms!

Crises Averted

A quick update:

1) Kendra's teacher gave her full credit for her verse even though it was the wrong verse. Kendra still needs to memorize the right one because it will reappear later (as in sometime during her 11 additional years at SACS), but for now we're good.

2) I found Caelyn's baby book. And the funniest part is, Caelyn's is filled in more than Kendra's. Cute little photos and stickers and everything. It's amazing how a sleep-deprived mom can function in the moment and then forget everything. Of course, that's why we keep having children. If we remembered all the bad parts, nobody would have two.

3) I'm typing one-handed because I sliced the tip off my middle finger using my mandoline to cut carrots into perfectly thin discs. My thought just before this incident was, "I need to be careful when the carrot gets short." Ten seconds later I'm copiously bleeding. At least I'll know it will heal. I cut the tip off my thumb in the summer of '96 while cutting onions. My thought just before that incident? "Look at me, I'm just like Jacques Pepin!" Maybe I shouldn't think while I'm cooking.

4) Today was a "snow day" so the kids and I have been cooped up in the house. South Texas doesn't deal well when the temperature stays below 32 for more than an hour. Add some freezing rain and the whole city shuts down. We're pathetic, I know. I can hear my friends in Colorado and the Midwest laughing. I will say this: There actually is some ice accumulation today. I really wouldn't want to be driving right now. But my kids are going to be most bummed when they realize that they will have to make up their snow day at the end of May. It's not looking good for school to happen tomorrow, either.

I'm off to make some hot chocolate for the kids.

Mother of the Year

Yup, that's me, Mother of the Year. Actually, that would be Idiot Mother of the Year.

First, I had Kendra memorize the wrong verse for school this week. Not a huge deal since it's still the Word of God and we talked about the meaning of the verse. But, the poor kid got a zero on her Bible recitation today because her eejit of a mom wrote the wrong verse on the dry erase board this week.

Second, I screwed up by teaching Kendra's friend Madelyn the wrong verse, too, when she was at our house on Thursday. (Sorry, Amy! I sure hope you were able to re-teach her the correct verse before school on Friday.)

Third, I just realized that my second child doesn't have a baby book. Or maybe she does and I just have no clue where it is. I came across David's baby book today and realized that I've only filled in a few pages. Then I unearthed Kendra's which is quite detailed until she was 18 months and sweet Caelyn arrived. And then I spent an hour trying to remember if I had ever filled in baby book pages for Caelyn. And the sad, sad thing is -- I really can't remember. I have vague memories of thinking about what I might write in her book, but I'm not sure the words ever made it onto paper.

So, the guilt-ridden mom made a stop at Babies R Us tonight and picked out a super-cute, very girly baby book for my 5-1/2 year old daughter. Yup, that's me. Mother of the Year.

Kiddie Lit

I just finished my third book of the year. Thus far:

The Novelist by Angela Hunt. Not very memorable.
All She Ever Wanted by Lynn Austin. Great read. Chronicles the lives of three generations of women. Not preachy but lots to think about.
Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary. Loved it.

Yes, I read a children's book. Alone, to myself. Actually, I read kiddie lit books pretty often. I like to preview what my kids might read someday, for one. Also, I think most "children's" books weren't written toward children at all. The humor in Dear Mr. Henshaw is going to fly over most kids' heads, but I chuckled my way through.

Kiddie Lit isn't as sweet and pure and funny as it was when Cleary was writing. Yesterday at the library I came across a book called Visitation Day, which was about a child who has to ride a bus to visit her dad in prison. Is there a large market for prison fiction among children? Divorce fiction I can see, and I actually do see it a ton. Gay and lesbian kiddie lit is making a rise along with all the tolerance-type books. Which is why my kids have the complete Boxcar Children series and why I spend my freetime previewing children' literature.

The Last 24 Hours

I've never seen the show "24," so this isn't exactly an homage. Just info about my life the last 24 hours.

Monday, 1/1/07

17:00 Making dinner (leftovers plus a salad) and cranberry rolls for breakfast the next day. Kids are upstairs playing with neighbors but I'm about to enforce mandatory piano practice.
17:30 Neighbors leave and meltdowns begin. Kendra has a splinter that's been there all afternoon but she just now realizes hurts. Caelyn and David are fighting over a coloring book. Discipline Caelyn, who actually shows contrition. Listen to Kendra play piano song. Get dinner on the table.
18:00 Eat dinner with kids. (Kevin is still at the office, where he has been all day even though it's a national holiday.) Kendra wolfs down dinner as usual. Caelyn slowly eats but does it without complaining. She even remembers to eat her least-favorite item first. David refuses to eat and is told he will see the plate again at breakfast.
18:45 Send the girls to empty out all the wastebaskets, which results in them getting into a fight.
19:00 Usher kids upstairs and tackle the craft closet and table. Kendra wants to use the label maker to organize her craft cubby drawers. It takes forever and too much frustration, but manage to clear off craft table, set out necessary supplies, clean up closet, and throw away a load of junk.
20:00 Jammies on, teeth brushed, kids in bed. No stories tonight because the kids were dawdlers. Kevin arrives home milliseconds after the kids go to bed, so he sneaks in for kisses and hugs.
20:01 Laundry, dishes, the typical stuff. Also check current postings on eBay (I'm selling stuff this week.) Waste several hours playing computer games and watching the Rose Parade on Tivo.
22:00 Caelyn starts crying. She's still not feeling well. Kevin goes upstairs and takes care of her. He ends up falling asleep on the floor. I can hear his snoring over my TV.
23:45 Stumble into bed. Decide not to wake up Kevin.

Tuesday 1/2/07
03:00 or thereabouts Awakened by one of the girls. This is becoming a frequent occurrence. Either someone has had a bad dream or someone isn't feeling well or someone is just plain lonely. Kevin (who must have come to bed at some point) escorts her upstairs and returns to bed.
07:18 Awakened by David climbing into my bed, sucking his thumb and carrying his Bear Bear. The girls quickly follow and we have a snuggle fest. Demands for breakfast ensue, so I get out of bed and check the status. Kevin already put the cranberry rolls in the oven, so I whip up some eggs and wait for the rolls to brown.
07:30 Heat up David's dinner from last night. Remind him that he agreed to eat it today. Listen to him squawk and complain and try to negotiate. He eventually eats enough to earn eggs and rolls.
08:00 Take a shower, which is fabulous since I never got a chance to shower yesterday. Gross, I know, but sometimes it just doesn't happen. David visits me while I'm in the shower and babbles incoherently about something. I smile and nod; he runs off in his footed jammies. Use up all the hot water.
09:00 Discover that Kendra has been "helpful" and unloaded the dishwasher. Problem: The dishes weren't clean. Kendra feels bad but helps me locate the dirty dishes and reload the racks.
10:00 Finally head out the door and head toward Fantastic Sam's for Caelyn's haircut. Entertain David while waiting. Inform the stylist that one side is two inches shorter than the other. Give up and head home with a wet head. Fix Caelyn's hair, cursing the so-called professional as I lop off several uneven chunks.
11:30 Heat up bean and cheese tacos that Kendra has assembled. Eat something else while the kids eat the tacos.
12:30 Head to the library. David immediately befriends another boy named Sean, who convinces David that they should play monster. Repeatedly hush the boys as they roar at each other. Try to located Sean's mother but she's MIA. Pack up and check out.
13:00 Go to the playground across the parking lot. (Love that library!) Freeze my tush on a bench while the kids play. The kids want snacks, which I remembered (for once) to pack this morning. Dole out snacks and water and sit in car while kids play for a few more minutes. Head home.
13;30 Change a stinky diaper. Inform David that he's going to wear underwear for the rest of the day. Mentally calculate that I've changed more than 13,000 diapers over the last seven years at a cost of more than $3,000. Pray that David will decide to "get on the potty train," as he calls it.
14:00 Resume the tedious job of listing more junk on eBay. David and Caelyn get into yet another fight, so David is sent to his bed. He quickly falls asleep.
14:15 Make the girls write thank-you notes for their Christmas presents. Spell every other word.
14:30 The UPS man comes with a surprise package. I had bought a defective batch of diecut letters for the kids last month. I emailed the company and asked for a replacement. Today's shipment contained two more batches of letters plus three pairs of decorative scissors and 8 bottles of glitter. Quickly stash the glitter and get the girls started on making a poster for their bedroom door. Kendra makes the poster and Caelyn spends the time in the bathroom.
15:30 Thank-you notes and poster finished, the girls have earned some TV time. Turn on Noggin.
16:00 Wake up David and thank God that he didn't have an accident during his nap. Watch Franklin with everybody. Put dinner in the oven.
16:30 David begs for Blues Clues. Force him to visit the bathroom first. Praise him for his success. Reward him with Blue.
17:30 Dinner still isn't quite heated through. Drag kids away from TV and have them help in kitchen. Eat a happy, peaceful dinner. Even David eats all his spinach lasagna.
18:00 Bath time. Caelyn gets a shower. Kendra and David take a bath together. Smooth runnings.
18:45 Let the kids watch AFV because I need to cut layers into Caelyn's hair and this is the best way to get her to hold still.
19:15 Dry girls' hair. Lay out uniforms. Clean upstairs. Vacuum.
20:00 Kevin arrives home and tucks kids into bed. I head downstairs for -- you guessed it -- laundry, dishes, etc.
21:00 Hop on computer and tackle emails and other paperwork. Try to make a plan for tomorrow. Become stressed and decide to vent via blogging. And there you have it.

You know, as a kid I thought my life would be more glamorous than this.

Do I Get Combat Pay For This?

It's New Year's weekend, which means Kevin is at the office. It's no fun for him, but every year he rings in the new year staring at a spreadsheet. Something about the year-end financial report for all of USAA, and the bigwigs are breathing down his department's neck until it is finished. Kevin's silver lining is that he's receiving double-time since he's working on a holiday. My silver lining is that it's only a couple weekends out of the year, as opposed to a couple months of 80-hour weeks like it was when he worked for Arthur Andersen.

That said, all is not rosy on the homefront. I spent Friday night with a stomach bug. Today Caelyn seems to have caught the same thing, so I've spent most of the afternoon holding back her hair and listening to her recount every single time she's ever thrown up in her life. (She likes to verbally process while she's sick. My job is just to rub her back and say, "I know.")

So Happy New Year, everyone. I hope all my friends and family are having a grand time! I'll celebrate when school starts again.

Kid Quotes

David is fully resisting the idea of potty training. We had a semi-successful day today, but overall David's mantra has been, "I don't want to get on the potty train!" I guess he thinks it's a ride.

Also, at dinner tonight he said, "Excuse me, I burped in my bottom." You're probably smart enough to figure that one out.

Never Tried This One

My kids are getting past the WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction) stage, but there were times that this technique would have been helpful! I can't tell you how many times they got into stuff in the pantry or my ink pads or other "no-touch" items while I was doing something else.

Please, don't send me comments saying this is child abuse. This child is obviously fine and probably wasn't there for more than a couple minutes. This is just a stickier version of a Baby Bjorn. Thanks to Blessed Assurances for sharing this image.

I Love the 80s

Last night was a surreal evening. Kevin's company had its annual "Holiday Party." Kevin works for USAA, the ginormous insurance company that employs 16,000 people locally. The company party is held downtown at the Convention Center because, really, where else can you have a party for thousands upon thousands of people?

Here's the fun part: They hired the classic 80s rock group Foreigner to perform. Seriously. We got to listen and sing and laugh hysterically for over an hour to such classic Foreigner hits as "Feels Like the First Time" and "Jukebox Baby" and "Urgent." Highly entertaining.

Oh, The Places I've Been!

For no reason whatsoever, I made a map of every state I've visited. Never mind that some of those visits were merely drive-thrus on my way to or from college. The point is: I've been there. I've been to an extremely nice Target in Albuquerque, I've eaten at Molly Murphy's House of Fine Repute in Oklahoma City (where later that night my car was broken into), and I've been to the airport in Newark, New Jersey, on my way to New York City. And that's enough New Jersey for me.

Someday I'd like to head up to Ohio to see some friends. I really want to do a tour of American authors' home in the Northeast. Someday...



create your own visited states map

How Good is Your Grammar?

Your Language Arts Grade: 100%

Way to go! You know not to trust the MS Grammar Check and you know "no" from "know." Now, go forth and spread the good word (or at least, the proper use of apostrophes).

Are You Gooder at Grammar?
Make a Quiz

I'm Thankful For...

Thanksgiving is almost over, and the last 48 hours have been quite an adventure. We made it to Houston safely although we had to make a few extra stops for our kids who weren't feeling well. When we arrived, Caelyn took a speedy turn downhill and visited the bathroom a dozen times in the first two hours. Noreen unearthed some anti-diarrheal medicine, but I noticed that it had expired in 1997 so I opted to send Kevin to Walgreens. Caelyn later perked up, but then she got a fever and her other symptoms continued. Now David's sick with a pretty high fever, too. The poor guy took three naps today. Kendra's hanging in there but says her tummy hurts. Tonight's Thanksgiving Feast? Each of the kids ate a roll and part of a banana. I know the kids wish they were in their own beds, and I really wish we were at home, too. But we're not, and it's probably just as well that we stay until Saturday so David has time to recover before hitting the road again.

Despite our less-than-stellar holiday, I am thankful for so many things. The short list:

1. I am thankful for my husband, who puts up with me and loves me and challenges me and laughs at/with me. Every day for the last dozen years, Kevin has never failed to tell me that he loves me, even when I'm not acting very lovable. Kevin is faithful, loving, selfless, and a great dad.
2. I am thankful for each of my children. I love Kendra's literal view of the world and her growing heart for God. I love Caelyn's ability to always see the bright side of things. I love David's sweet spirit and his play hard/sleep hard tendencies. I love how God is training me in righteousness through my children.
3. I am thankful for my friends. God has truly blessed me with a great group of women with whom I can share, pray, cry, laugh, and be myself. I love all my friends dearly and I'm so grateful to have you in my life.
4. I am thankful that I'm able to stay home and be a mom. Housekeeping with a joyful heart is a struggle for me, but I am truly thankful that I can focus the majority of my energies on home and family. I'm thankful that I'm always available when my kids are sick, that I have the freedom to attend Tuesday morning Bible studies, and that I'm the one who picks up my kids from school every day.
5. That said, I'm also thankful for my parttime jobs. I need to learn how to manage my time better, but I'm thankful for my curriculum writing job and for my eternally patient boss. I'm thankful for my fun mystery shopping jobs and for the free food and stuff that they provide for our family. I'm thankful for the unexpected editing job my sister provided for me recently.

This is the short list, of course, because I'm thankful for so many other things, people, circumstances, etc. God is good and He has blessed me richly! Happy Thanksgiving!

Props to Kevin

My sweet husband appears to be growing up. Today he managed to sell our 11-year-old Mazda and buy a 2006 Nissan Altima without 1) losing his temper; 2) haggling unnecessarily with the salesman; and 3) making the car dealership people angry, too. Not that he was throwing money away, because he made sure he got a good deal. But when he bought the Mazda 11 years ago, he spent EIGHT hours at the dealership trying to eke out the last possible penny. Today's adventure was over in just a few hours. (And as an added bonus, David got a balloon. And Kevin got the spoiler.) The dealership still did the whole cheesy "let me take this figure to my manager" trick, but Kevin withstood all the tactics. I'll miss the little Mazda 626 -- Kevin bought it just before we got married and it was my first new car. Godspeed, 626, you served us well.

And on a completely different note, we are supposed to leave for Houston in the morning for Thanksgiving with the grandparents, but 66.67 percent of our children are sick. David is on the mend, we think, but Caelyn is a weepy mess with a sore throat, throbbing head, and continually runny nose. At least it's not an urpy sickness this time. I'm not sure Kevin's mom has forgiven us for bringing and sharing the horrible stomach virus last summer. I know her carpet never fully recovered.

Look Like Dirt = Run Into People You Know

This is my last week of weight training with my friends Kathleen and Amy (Kathleen's the personal trainer/torture expert; Amy's the other willing participant in this quest for muscle mass). Kathleen was particularly demanding today, but in a nice way. At any rate, I left her house a little sweaty, probably a little smelly, and with a bad case of gym hair.

So I drove to the HEB on Blanco and 1604 because it's not my regular store and I figured I could shop anonymously. Wrong. I immediately ran into Diana Lowe, one of the pastors' wives from church. Five minutes later I'm at the deli counter waiting for my mesquite smoked turkey when I recognize the woman standing beside me. It's JoAnn MacPherson, one of my former students from when I taught high school journalism. She's married and a full-fledged grown-up, so now I feel sweaty, smelly, unattractive, and OLD. Still, it was fun to see her.

I go home and spend the next couple hours frantically cooking dinner for Kathleen, Amy, and my family. Making minestrone while wearing a white shirt was not a brilliant idea, so I got noticeably splattered with beef broth and tomatoes. Now I'm sweaty, smelly, unattractive, OLD and a slob, so what happens after school? I run into one of my impeccably groomed friends when I take the kids to Shipley's.

It's almost 7:30 at night and I still haven't showered. And really, what's the point now? Kevin's a little stuffy so he won't notice if I'm not too rosy, and I can sleep in my dirty clothes and save the clean jammies for another night. And bad hair at night? Who cares?

But I can guarantee that tomorrow I'll look (and smell) good and I won't run into anybody I know. Vanity's funny that way.

Coming Up To Breathe

The last two months have been hectic, crazy, over-worked, etc. Thankfully, I've finished a big editing job and I'm taking a few weeks off from curriculum writing, which means I'm enjoying a few hours of freedom each day. Time to clean the house, tackle some serious clutter, deal with a mountain of laundry, cook a decent meal, hit the gym, sew an Indian costume for Caelyn for Thanksgiving Feast... OK, maybe I don't have that much free time after all. But I don't feel like I'm in a constant state of stress right now, and that's a great feeling.

So here's what I got to do this weekend. I sat in my car from 6-10 p.m. on both Friday and Saturday nights counting the number of customers who entered a particular store. Seriously, I got paid to sit in my car and make a tally. It was glorious! Eight hours of magazine reading, Bible study, logic puzzles, and spontaneous praise singing. Eight hours without a single person demanding a single thing from me. Eight hours of peace with a side of quiet. I didn't even turn on my radio because I wanted to enjoy the silence. My backside got a little sore, but it was well worth it.

And now I have an Indian costume to sew.

Apparently I Don't Exist

I always knew I was unique, but this is ridiculous! Thanks to Megan for the laugh.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I Need a Nap

It's 8:48 in the morning, and I've been up since 12:46 a.m. I had a migraine last night so I went to bed early and fell asleep before 9. I woke up in the middle of the night and took more Excedrin, and then I couldn't sleep so I watched Lost on Tivo. Finally stumbled back to bed after 1:30, but then I kept hearing noises (thought it was the cat). After 20 minutes of restlessness, I realized the kitchen light was on. A quick investigation revealed that my son, who is almost 3, was wandering around the house. Returned him to his room only to discover that he'd thrown up in his bed. Seven hours later, and I still haven't slept. I've done three loads of laundry and have a day's worth more. Poor David is lying pathetically on the living room floor because I don't want him to christen the couches with urp. (I'd put him in bed, but both sets of sheets are in the wash. Besides, and it's a TV-watching kind of day.) I'm off to search the garage for the Little Green Machine so I can clean up the carpet.

Here's hoping this is short-lived and that the girls don't get it. Kendra's 7th birthday party is in 49 hours, and I'd hate for her to miss out on her celebration.

Please Pray for My Dad

If you're a praying person, please consider praying for my Dad. He's had a long history of illness, strokes, and increased disability. As a result, he's become severely depressed. He's currently in the hospital and hopefully will receive proper treatment. He's also in the process of selling his house and moving back into the retirement community where he was last year, so pray that he'll adjust and accept his new situation better than he did last time. Also, pray that I'll have the right words to offer him. He's lost hope.

Opening Day

Yup, it's official. Today was opening day -- for catalog season. I found half a dozen catalogs in my mailbox today, and I know from experience that the number will only increase as we inch closer to Christmas. Normally I just toss them into the recycling bin, but this year I think I'm going to take the effort and actually call the companies and request to be taken off their mailing lists. It won't make much difference, I know, but I hate to see all that glossy paper wasted.

I like giving and receiving presents, by the way. Generally, I like stuff. I just don't need to see examples of every single thing that I could spend money on. And I certainly don't want companies to waste time, paper, and money sending shiny catalogs to me when 99 times out of 100 I won't even look at them. And I really like my mail carrier, so I'm hoping my efforts will lighten her load, too. At least for my mailbox; I'm sure her truck is filled with catalogs headed toward the neighbors' houses. Sigh.

******
UPDATE: One hour later, and I've called a few companies. One company happily took me off their list and said they appreciated the feedback. The second company could not find me in their system, even though I had the catalog in hand with my correctly spelled name and the customer ID number. I guess I'll just pitch those catalogs when they arrive on a semi-weekly basis.

Yippee!

I love Target. It's the happiest place on earth for me. And today God has blessed me with a $100 gift certificate to Target!

The education program at Trinity University (my alma mater) is celebrating its 15th anniversary of the master's program. They sent out surveys to all the MAT graduates asking for current information and career stories. As an incentive, they said they would have a drawing for two $100 gift certificates to either Barnes & Noble or Target. Today the education department sent out an email saying that I was one of the winners -- yippee!

On top of that, I scored two mystery shops this month at Target. I get reimbursed for $50 for each shop. That's $200 of Target money this month! Now is the real test: Do I use the freebie money for something practical for the house, or for birthday gifts for Kevin and the kids, or for something extravagant for me?

"Sir, you are a saint."

That's what I wanted to say to a certain man last week. I was in the public library when I noticed an elderly couple sitting at a table. The husband was quietly working on financial paperwork, and the wife was reading the newspaper. I don't know what happened previously, but the wife was verbally berating her husband as if he were a child. She told his how horrible his manners were and how awful a husband he was. After a few minutes she returned to her newspaper. Soon she asked, "What is a nemesis? I don't know that word." Her husband answered, "An unlikable enemy," which I thought was a decent answer. The wife lit into him again about how stupid his response was, how he shouldn't add a word like "unlikable" if it really just means "enemy." (I know, the irony...) Later the husband politely asked, "May I please have 50 cents?" to which the wife responded, "No, because you don't know how to ask a question properly. You should have asked, 'May I have two quarters?' because I don't know if you need 5 dimes or what." She proceeded to call him a swear word rather unbecoming for a lady, especially one in her 70s.

So I'm listening to all this, wishing I could say something to her. I wanted to chew her out. I wanted to heap burning coals on her head by being kind. I wanted to tell her poor, defeated husband that he is a true saint and a model of patience. I wanted to tell her husband to get a backbone and fight back. In the end, I paused for a few moments and prayed for the both of them. And then I prayed for myself, that I would never act like that. Surely this is the woman that Solomon was thinking about when he wrote "a quarrelsome wife is like a constant dripping."

I Can't Move Today

Actually, I can move. I'm just moving very slowly. With pain. Lots of pain.

Yesterday my friend Amy and I tried a new class at the gym. It's called STRONG, and now I know why it was written in all caps on the class rosters.

Basically, it was a series of weight training exercises. I've never used a dumbbell in my life, but I figured out how to add the weights and lock the cap thingie on the end.

I was doing OK with the shoulder squats and reverse flies. But somewhere around the second set of skull crushers (don't ask), my triceps gave out. I barely made it through the lumberjack chopping movement. And then the sadistic instructor put us through 5 minutes of ab work.

The hour went by quickly, and after class Amy and I were smiling and said it was the best class we'd taken so far. Then Amy called me late last night and asked, "How much are you hurting right now?" Not as much as I'm hurting right now, I tell you.

Strangely enough, we've agreed to go back to the class next week, too. I'll just load up on Advil first.

Sometimes I Feel Like This...

"So much of me believes strongly in letting everybody live their own lives, and when I share my faith, I feel like a network marketing guy trying to build my downline." -- Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz

It's sad, but true. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to sell Christ to people, as if He were a set of Ginsu knives. It's not that I don't believe in God, or in salvation, or in the Bible. Because I do, wholeheartedly. But sometimes you encounter somebody who obviously doesn't know God, and when you start talking about Him they get that glazed-over look in their eyes, as if they're thinking, "How long do I have to listen to this pitch before I can hang up?" I'm not ashamed of the Gospel, but I don't want to be a nudgy vendor woman, either.

5 Things

I was tagged by my buddy Megan to do this...

5 Things in My Freezer:
a stack of gallon-sized bags of spaghetti sauce (I just cooked in bulk);
some raspberry chocolate chips that I don't know what do to with;
three mini loaves of zucchini bread;
three pounds of butter, mostly unsalted;
way too much ice cream

5 Things in My Closet:
a huge stack of ill-fitting or outdated clothes that I need to donate or sell on Ebay;
the girls' old crib bedding;
a set of construction Legos for David's Christmas present;
my graduation caps and gowns;
several clumps of cat fur

5 Things in My Car:
a pile of trail mix nuts that the kids didn't eat (they devoured the raisins and M&Ms, though);
a pile of well-worn Chick-fil-A books;
some Windex Wipes so I can clean the grubby fingerprints off the windows during carpool;
a thin layer of Kevin's whiskers, since he shaves on the way to church;
a yoga mat

5 Things in My Purse/Wallet:
my new driver's license with a photo that does NOT have huge bangs;
a lipstick that's been melted a few too many times in the Texas sun;
three singles and a dime;
a coupon holder dedicated to grocery store items;
a coupon holder mostly dedicated to Chick-fil-A, but also to bowling alleys, dry cleaning, and other local eateries

5 Things Most People Don't Know About Me:
I wish I could sing well enough to try out for American Idol;
I want to be a drummer in heaven's alternative Christian rock band;
I do impersonations of people I know (Kevin really likes this fact about me. He's pretty much the only person who sees me in action);
every aptitude test I ever took said I was supposed to be an engineer -- my math SATs were 200 points above my verbal SATs -- yet I became a writer anyway;
I danced in the halftime show at Super Bowl XXI

5 Books I've Recommended in the Last Few Years:
Blue Genes by Paul Meier (it's helped me understand my struggles with depression);
The Ishbane Conspiracy by Randy Alcorn;
Heaven by Randy Alcorn;
Looking for God in Harry Potter by John Granger;
Created to Be His Help Meet by Debi Pearl

5 Books I've Bought But Haven't Read Yet:
The Cross Examination of Jesus Christ by Randy Singer
The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith
Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel
Candle in the Darkness by Lynn Austin

5 Things I Should Be Doing Instead of Blogging Right Now:
finishing up the laundry;
packing for our trip;
boxing up the stuff I just sold on eBay;
writing a reading passage for my job;
dealing with the disaster zone upstairs

5 People I Tag to Do This:
the Kwans
Stephanie
Paul
Amy
anyone else? Let me know so I can read 'em.

The Good and the Bad

This has been an utterly crazy week!

The Good:
I finally got to ride the Great White rollercoaster at Sea World. Kevin's parents were in town, so we all went for the day. We were able to leave the kids with Grandma and Grandpa for half an hour so we could get our adrenaline rush. Totally fun ride until...
The Bad:
The brake system was a little faulty at the end. Instead of coasting to a stop, we slammed short and Kevin's neck hurt for a while. Not a good memory for Kevin since he's already a bit squeamish about rollercoasters.

The Good:
We bought David's "big boy bed." He slept in it for the first time last night and did really well, although he was sleeping sideways when I checked on him this morning.
The Bad:
Buying a mattress is pretty much the same experience as buying a car. The salesman actually took a $100 bill out of his wallet, laid in on the table, placed a sample of "protectant" on the bill, and then poured colored liquid onto the bill. All this was just to prove his point that we needed to spend another $75 for a protective sealer, which I could do myself with a $4 can of Scotch Guard.

The Good:
Now that David's in his big boy bed, we can finally switch the kids' bedrooms around upstairs. The girls needed to move across the way so they could have the dual bathroom.
The Bad:
Kevin decided to start moving the kids' furniture at 7:30 last night. Which means the kids didn't get to sleep until after 9:30. Which means I'm anticipating a meltdown later today. Thankfully, we have a copy of "Chicken Little" from the library and they can zone out when they start to get cranky.

The Good:
I have been gainfully employed the last two weeks. I've gotten several decent mystery shops and got to take Kevin on a date to Outback. I also had to do a shop at Rolling Oaks Mall for a kids' event, and Kendra won a Cabbage Patch baby. Actually, she won a personal video disc player (not the same as a DVD player), but we traded with a 9-year-old boy who won the Cabbage Patch. Both kids were pretty darn happy with that trade. Americans should barter more -- it's fun.
The Bad:
Working is good, but not when it all comes at once. In addition to all the mystery shops, I'm also scrambling trying to finish the six reading passages that I need to write for my other job. It's been a little stressful and I'm not getting enough sleep.

We're leaving on vacation to California on Wednesday. Pray for peaceful flights and flexible children!

Kid Quote Contest

This is for Alex, the Amys, Megan, Stephanie, my sisters, and all my other mom friends whose kids say the funniest things. Write down what they say, and submit the funniest and/or most poignant ones to this contest. The winning quotes are made into adorable greeting cards. Your child gets a little cash and a lot of recognition!

The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.

When my Granddad died, my father sold his box seats at Dodger Stadium. My father had four daughters, and he probably thought his girls wouldn't be able to appreciate the joys of baseball. He was wrong.

Sometime in the early-80s, my dad and I started going to Dodger games together. Our family life was unstable, but my dad and I found that we could have some semblance of a relationship by sharing baseball. On warm summer nights he'd come home from work, pick me up, and we'd make the short drive to Dodger Stadium. I loved driving the last stretch up the hill, where a sheer cliff flanked the right side of the road. Maybe my excitement was partially fear of a rockslide, but I did love the drive.

When we got to the Stadium, we'd get a couple of Dodger Dogs before finding our seats. (Dodger Dogs are the only hot dogs worth eating, by the way.) I'd get a Diet Coke, my dad would get a beer, and we'd take our seats, which were usually along the first baseline. The sun was always blinding, at first, but eventually the sun would dip behind the scoreboard and the round, orange Union 76 gasoline sign that stood on top. From that vantage we would watch the game and catch glimpses of the celebrities who were in attendance that day.

My dad taught me how to read the box scores. I learned all the terminology. I listened to the legendary Vin Scully announce the games. I ate Cracker Jack and ice cream and joyfully sang during the seventh inning stretch. I became a huge fan of Steve Sax, Orel Herschiser, and even Fernando Valenzuela. Mostly, though, I learned how to sit still during the very long stretches where nothing seemed to happen. I learned to appreciate the steady, slow rhythms of baseball. And occasionally, my dad and I would have a good conversation about something other than the game itself.

One of my clearest father/daughter childhood memories was in 1988. My parents were on the verge of divorce, and my mom and I had already moved into an apartment. I was a senior in high school and acted like my dad barely existed. He reached out, though, and invited me to Game 1 of the World Series against the Oakland A's. We had incredible seats between homeplate and first base. We were four rows behind Kareem Abdul Jabbar. The governor was there. The whole stadium was buzzing with excitement, yet my father and I barely spoke during the game. There was an enormous, unspoken tension between us that baseball could not heal. By the ninth inning I couldn't wait to go home.

But then an ailing Kirk Gibson emerged from the dugout, took the plate, and made an amazing, miraculous three-run homer that brought the Dodgers from behind and gave us the win. I remember watching the crowd go nuts and seeing my dad's face. He was happy for the win, but his face showed the strain of our broken family and fractured relationship. It remained one of the many unspoken moments between us, but I think I understood a bit more about my dad that night. He had screwed up our family, but he was aware of his mistakes. He didn't know how to express it, but I think he was sorry about his inability to fix things. I probably didn't express enough appreciation at the time, but I was honored that my dad chose to invite me to the game as opposed to any of his friends.

My dad lives alone now, and I only see him once a year. When I visited him last summer, he enormous television was showing a Dodger game. The screen looked off-color, though, and after a few minutes I realized that Steve Garvey was playing. My dad was watching a replay of an old Dodgers game on ESPN Classic. I don't understand why he'd want to watch a game from 30 years ago, but maybe he was trying to come to terms with his own life, too. Baseball just happens to be his medium.

And now, for sheer love of the game, here's a link to my favorite speech from one of my favorite movies, Field of Dreams. James Earl Jones could never have given this speech about any other sport.

Caelyn's Latest Word Picture

Five-year-old Caelyn had a stomach ache this morning. "It's like there's a scorpion inside my tummy that's pinching me." She's a little wordsmith, she is. I'll bet she becomes a writer.

Stuff on My Cat

The kids and I have discovered a hilarious website: www.stuffonmycat.com
The basic premise is that cats are even better when you stack stuff on them. Every morning we check out the new photos and giggle.
We're so entertained by the pictures that we've started dressing up our own cat. Poor Zelda has been extremely tolerant, and here's our favorite shot so far.

Favorite Kid Quotes of Late

My kids are always cracking me up with their clever language usages, but I think Caelyn is the most creative. Here are some of her latest quotes:

"Sometimes I'm just melting with happiness!"

"When I get sick, it's like there's a volcano in my tummy that comes out my mouth." (Now there's a vivid picture.)

Then again, Kendra asks the most profound questions, such as:

"Can presidents come back to life?" and

"Why didn't God make all our fingers the same size?" and

"Can a shark's head come up through the toilet and bite me?"

Recent Escapades, Part Three -- SAPD Not Involved

In yet another blip on my screen of bad luck, our mailbox was demolished by a runaway truck last week. A neighbor is building a pool, and the excavators forgot to set the brake. The truck rolled down the street and smashed into our front yard, taking out both our and our neighbor's mailboxes. Thankfully, the kids weren't outside playing. Also thankfully, the excavators have already written a check to fully pay for the replacement mailboxes, which cost over $500 a piece. Until then, I have to drive to the local post office to pick up our mail.

Recent Escapades with the SAPD -- Part Two

Remember the huge garage project I did to surprise Kevin? (He really, really liked it, by the way.) While the paint was drying, I had to park my minivan in the driveway. And here's what happened:

On the Saturday after VBS, I went out for some much-needed alone time. I went shopping, and while I was in Rack Room Shoes (the scene of David's escape; see previous post), I found a super-cheap and fairly cute black purse. I bought it and immediately switched my wallet and cell phone into the new black purse since I was wearing black pants and shoes.

When I came home that night, I brought my old brown purse into the house out of habit. I didn't really think about bringing in the new black purse. Big mistake.

The next morning I went outside with the kids to load up for church. Right away, I noticed that the passenger's window was shattered. I went inside, told Kevin, and asked what would have caused the window to break. Sometimes I'm just so stinking naive, but Kevin once broke a window just from the vibration of his lawnmower, and he did mow the lawn on Saturday, so my thoughts were on that path.

Suddenly it dawned on me that this was an act of vandalism, and that I didn't know where that black purse was. I did a quick search of the house and confirmed that, yes, we'd been robbed.

It only took 90 minutes to call the police and file a report, and then call all the credit card companies to cancel the cards. Several informed me that they had already red-flagged my card since they had noticed unusual activity on the cards. I haven't seen all the statements yet, but it looks like the thieves had a good ole time buying beer at gas stations and getting some electronic equipment at Walmart.

Later that week, the SAPD called me to say they had "recovered" my wallet at the Valero down the street from my house. I went to the police station to pick it up, and some of my cards were still in there. My driver's license is MIA, so some hoodlum is probably using it to get into bars. There were also some credit cards that didn't belong to me in my wallent. Some poor bloke named Steven B. Harwood also got burglarized, I guess, by the same guys. But, at least I got my Costco card back and a few other things. All the cash was gone, but the thieves didn't take my coins. I suppose they aren't interested in small change when they were busy racking up hundreds of dollars of fraudulent purchases.

And here's a tip: The DPS office in New Braunfels is not any faster than the location on Perrin Beitel. I waited an hour with three kids to get a replacement license, and the New Braunfels office didn't have any chairs to sit on. Can't wait to see that new license photo, considering I was rather frazzled and David was pulling on my shorts.

Recent Escapades with the SAPD - Part One

When you become a mother, you automatically join this private club of women. It's an unspoken club, but it exists, nonetheless, of every woman who has a child. There are subsets in this club: Adoptive moms, moms over 40, moms who gave birth without an epidural (I'm in that one, twice over).

I'm the newest member of this subset: Mommies who have lost their child in a public place. I'm also a member of this secondary subset: Mommies who had to call the Police Department when their child got lost.

Yup, that's me. Mother of the Year.'

The Situation: The kids and I were at Rack Room Shoes looking for summer sandals for me. Kendra was supposedly helping me by looking for shoeboxes with my shoe size. (Hey, when you wear a size 11 you get pretty excited when there's actually a shoe in your size.) Caelyn was supposedly in charge of David. Not the best plan, but that's what was happening.

After 30 minutes and several directives to the girls to "please go get your brother and bring him to me," I was checking out at the register. David came up to me with a random box of shoes that he had pulled off a shelf, somewhere. I told him "no touch" and said we were going to leave in a minute. He pouted when I took the shoes away from him and walked off toward the girls.

One minute later, I tell the girls that we are leaving. "Where's David?" I ask. The girls say they don't know, so we make rounds around the store looking for him. After circling the store 3 times, I ask an employee to help me find my son. She checks the storeroom and then says, "Do you want me to call the police?" I can't even tell you how stressed I was beginning to feel. I don't even think I answered her. I just told the girls to stay there with this nice worker and I darted out the front door and started running up and down the strip mall.

When I came back into the store, everything converged within seconds. The employee was on the phone with SAPD trying to describe David's clothes (the girls were helping her and actually remembered what David was wearing). Just as the employee was asking me how to spell my last name, the other worker calls out, "Hey, I think he's in your van."

I ran to the window and yes, David's head is now peeking out of the the sliding door on the minivan. He was rather sweaty, since he'd apparently been sitting there for several minutes watching me run up and down the sidewalk.

The employee told the police that we'd found David just before she gave him our name. I was saved from public humiliation at the police department, at least. I quickly thanked the workers, gathered up the girls, and practically ran out of the store. I don't think I started crying until we'd gotten on the highway.

A truly horrible experience, but I'm grateful for several things. I'm grateful that the car was parked immediately in front of the store, not across the parking lot. I'm grateful, strangely enough, that the car was somehow unlocked so David could get in and be in a relatively safe place.

This Is How Tired I Am

I just poured myself a glass of milk, got out a clean bowl, and then poured cereal into the glass of milk. I wanted cereal, but I'd rather eat it out of a bowl.

Why am I so tired? In the last four days I have:
1. Removed everything (and I mean everything) from the garage. This included all the tools, toys, shelves, and Kevin's makeshift workbench that was resting on cinderblocks. I hauled most of it into the house except for the lawn equipment and kids' toys, which are in the backyard. When you walk into my foyer, you are greeted by our second refrigerator. Our dining room is filled with boxes and boxes of garage junk.
2. Degreased, cleaned, etched, cleaned, powerwashed, squeegeed, powerwashed again, squeegeed again, powerwashed a third time, vacuumed the remaining etching dust from, primed, and painted our garage floor. It looks great, but I may have to apply a second coat tomorrow afternoon.
3. Purchased, loaded, unloaded, and assembled the biggest, heaviest garage shelving units I've ever seen. The assembly was kind of fun, actually.
4. Taken care of all the needs and a few of the wants of my children single-handedly, as Kevin is in San Diego enjoying dinner cruises in the bay. Not fair.
5. Gotten up at 6:30 every morning to get us all to church by 8:15 for VBS, where I've spent 4 hours every day running the Preschool Games & Activities for 50-plus squirrelly kids, ages 3-5. Lesson learned for next year: Three-year-olds do not want to play organized games. Also, not all three-year-olds know their names.
6. Dealt with an insanely unwanted ant infestation in my pantry. This required the removal and sanitation of all my plastic storage containers. Why do I have 100 Rubbermaid and Ziploc food containers? The ants are dead, the pantry's clean, and I now have an accurate inventory of the insulin-inducing amount of carbs in there.
7. Gotten by on less than 6 hours of sleep a night.

This entire garage redo is Kevin's belated Father's Day present. He doesn't know I'm doing it, and I'm really hoping he is happy about it all. He was strangely fond of his workbench that he found on the sidewalk, but it was time for something useful and space efficient. Hopefully when he gets home after midnight tonight he will not be upset by the amount of sheer clutter in the house as he tries to navigate his way from the front door to the living room. The garage floor won't be fully dry until Saturday, at which time I will haul everything back and place it all in labeled boxes on the shiny new shelves. Maybe Kevin will have mercy on me and help a little.

For now, I'm going to enjoy my glass of cereal (current favorite? Basic 4) and hit the sack. I've got to be at church in 10 hours.

My Latest Curriculum Passage/Short Story

I vividly remember the first time I realized we were different. Not a different race or religion or anything like that. No, we were different because of our mismatched furniture.

I was in the second grade, 8 years old, and I was having my first sleepover. My mom dropped me off at my friend Gracie’s house on Friday evening. We were supposed to have pizza with her family and then watch a movie. I had just taken a bite of my second slice of pepperoni when it suddenly hit me.

“All your chairs are the same!” I blurted out, my mouth full of melted cheese.

Four pairs of eyes stared at me like I had just sprouted green hair. Mrs. Morgan was the first to break the silence by asking, “What did you say, dear?”

“All your chairs are the same,” I repeated. “The chairs we’re sitting in. They all match.”

Again, the Martin family stared at me with confused expressions. “Of course they match,” Mrs. Morgan said. “The table and chairs are a set. They’re supposed to match.”

“Oh,” I said meekly. I decided to change the topic by asking what movie we were going to watch later. Then, hoping to deflect the attention off me, I took another bite of pizza and pretended to be extremely interested in the pattern of the tablecloth. Nobody brought up the chairs again, and I survived my first sleepover without further embarrassment.

When my mom picked me up the next morning, I waited until we got home before I mentioned the chairs. But as soon as I walked into the kitchen, I saw that yes, indeed, we were different. None of our chairs matched. Instead of a set of six, nicely matching chairs like the Morgans had, we had six chairs of differing heights, styles, and colors. I couldn’t believe that I had never noticed this before. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t realized that this was, you know – weird.

My mom saw me quizzically staring at the kitchen table and asked what I was thinking about. “The chairs,” I answered. “How come they don’t match?”

“Match what?” she asked.

“Each other!” I said in a tone of voice that usually wasn’t tolerated at my house. “Aren’t chairs supposed to match each other?”

My mom told to me to sit down. I automatically chose my favorite chair -- the ladder-back one with the woven seat. My mom sat in the dark mahogany chair with the wrought iron legs. She folded her hands, sighed, and then asked what I thought of the Morgan’s chairs. I shrugged my shoulders and said they were nice.

My mom pressed on. “Okay, nice,” she said. “But what made them nice? What did they look like?” I didn’t know. I said they were brown, and they matched the table.

My mom said that yes, most people buy chairs and tables in a set and that yes, they usually match each other. She said there was nothing wrong with buying furniture that way. But then she posed this question: "Which one of these chairs is your favorite, Becca?"

That's easy, I thought. I told my mom that I was sitting in my favorite chair.

"Right,” she said. “That’s always been your favorite chair. That was a chair from your grandfather’s store.” My mom reminded me how I used to love going into Grandpa’s store and help him stock the shelves with merchandise. I’d forgotten that, since my Grandpa had retired several years ago and had sold the store. I didn’t realize that I loved this old chair because it reminded me of my grandfather.

“What about the other chairs?” I asked. “Where did they come from?”

One by one, my mother told me the story behind each chair at our table. The green chair was from the restaurant where my dad had proposed to my mom. Just before they got married, my dad went to the restaurant and asked if he could buy one of the chairs. He gave the chair to my mom as a wedding present. Smiling, my mom said the chair always reminds her of how much my daddy loves her.

Then my mom told me about the formal-looking armchair that had an embroidered seat cushion. My great-grandmother had made it. The design had red roses and green foliage and tiny, intricate swirls of gold in the background. She had needle pointed eight seat cushions, exactly the same, and they had been around her dining room table when my dad was growing up. When she died, all the surviving family members took a chair to remember her by. This was my dad’s favorite chair, and now I understood why.

When my mom had finished telling me the history behind all the other chairs, I realized that we weren’t different because our furniture didn’t match. In fact, I wouldn’t want a set of perfectly manufactured chairs like the Morgans had. Their furniture was pretty, but ours had character. Each of these chairs represented a piece of our family history, and that’s something you can’t buy in a store.

More Recent Reads

I'm officially done with Karen Kingsbury books. I just read her latest, Even Now. Yet another ridiculous plot! If your daughter runs away from home, and you spend 18 years searching for her, wouldn't you think to go through the box of journals in her room? Maybe, just to find a pertinent clue? No, not in Karen Kingsbury land, where parents conveniently wait until the dad is dying of cancer so we can have a Hollywood reunion scene.

Karen Kingsbury always has something like this in her books. In the Baxter family series, one daughter takes an AIDS test which comes out positive. Instead of getting a second test, even though everyone in her family and doctor's office tells her to do so, she stops living her life, cuts off all her relationships, blah blah blah. Of course she finds out later that the AIDS test was a false positive and all this heartache could have been prevented. But realistically, if you were told you were HIV positive, wouldn't you get a confirmation and then start guzzling AZT drugs? Again, not in Karen Kingsbury land.

On the other hand, I really liked Randy Singer's Self Incrimination. Great courtroom novel about an abusive father who's shot in his home, and the step-daughter confesses. Can't say too much more, but it was highly entertaining even though I figured out the whodunnit pretty early on.