Truth's

I have neglected my blog this month, and I will blame it on children. Enough Said.
 And today I am doing my 2009 Spring Cleaning (yes, I know it's 2010), so I will keep this short...


The following is a list of things that fall under the title...

Truth's I Have Learned:

1. The ratio of jelly to peanut butter should be 1:4, otherwise you will be very sticky.
2. Children really do want you to play with them, not out of boredom, but because they think of you as their friend and confidant.
3. Teenagers grunt,sigh, and roll their eyes just to see if they can make you mad enough to give up and do the dishes yourself. 
4. Day-before-payday meals are the most inventive.
5. 60-second dry time on nail polish is NOT fast enough for 5-year-olds.
6. Unless you are an abusive psycho- no matter how mad you get at the kids, they really do know  you love them.
7. Your children brag about you when you aren't around.
8. It's more important to brag or praise your children to others- sometimes, in front of your child- than to commiserate about child-rearing woes.
9. Letting your child see you worship God, read your Bible and practice your faith is more important than just teaching them the stories.
10. The scream volume of a wounded child is often the opposite of the wounds seriousness.
      A splinter removal = blood-curdling scream; Broke arm = questions about cast colors.
11. A child's questions are worth listening to and answering. I will be doing dishes for a lifetime, He/She  will   only ask this question once.
12. Entertaining the dreams or schemes of a child can change their future.
13. Being an adult does not mean the end of being silly.
14. That spaghetti, white bread and cheese are all bad for me.
15. That having it all isn't the reward - the road to getting there, is.

Until next time! Off to vacuum up year-old dust bunnies- full grown rabbits by now....

Yardwork

I write this with hands bent like claws, 2 Advil on board and sheer exhaustion running up my back...Gardening.

I have never done much of it until last year. Then, I planted my first "flower bed", and when the nice spring rains made everything burst into bloom and spread out this year, I was hooked. I planted 4 square vegetable gardens, and enjoyed that so much, I turned my eye toward my front yard.

I researched, measured,  watched every Yard Crashers episode, drew out plans, bought, bought and bought more stuff and off I went! (on a side note,I think Home Depot & Lowe's pay HGTV / DIY network to run subliminal messages just to me)
2 days into hoeing up weeds so that the weed prevention fabric could do it's job (I know, that's stupid, huh?), I realized a few things about myself:
1. I am no longer 16.
2. I am no longer in good shape.
3. I am creative.
4. I am cheap.
5. I am not above paying 2 teens that are both young and in shape to dig weeds for me.
6. It takes a lot of focus to not be distracted... SQUIRREL!...

 Needless to say, My eyes have gotten bigger than my gumption! No, I couldn't just replace the ugly bushes with pretty ones, I had to decide that since the huge pecan tree is so close to the house, why not incorporate it into the edged-off layout? And how about making the sidewalk to the door appear wider by shoveling a yard of river rock into a 4x15ft area- to soften the angles, you know. Oooooh, and let's look into placing step-stones through  it so there is a path to the side yard instead of walking around that lovely tree? Soften the line of the house with a 2 tall shrubs, plant 6 bushes, and 20+ flowering plants/grasses....oh, but first we (as in ME) must weed, rake, level, shovel and cover with fabric....
I'm tired. I paid 2 teen boys $20 a piece to finish most of the weeding and raking for me while I shoveled rocks. This is expensive! No wonder I have always been satisfied with weeds and some bulb flowers!

Here's a conversation I had with myself at H.Depot..."Ok, Self,  I need mulch now...Llama, you can't ride on the flat cart now, I have to stack the mulch on there. No. No. No.NO. NO! OFF!...ok, now what kind to pick? Hmmmmmm, well, I don't want colored. Ok, now of the 6 other varieties, I don't care for the huge chunky kind. Mark off 2 more. LLAMA, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW WITH THAT CART!! Thank you for picking up the bushes that blew over, that was nice of you...STOP SWINGING OFF THE BOTTOM OF THE SHELVING!!! It could fall on you and squish you flat dead!..Where was I? Oh, yeah, ok, so hmmmm, these 3 all have the same amount, from 3 different kinds of tree wood....Hmmmm, I wonder why this one is $2.47 and this one is $2.97? And the one that is $2.97 is stacked up tall, the others are nearly gone....is it bad? Not good mulch? Hmmmmmmm...Llama, I know you are thirsty, just a minute and I will take you to McDonald's when we are done (yeah, I bribe sometimes- what of it?) What? You don't have to potty. You just went! Oh, come on- it's all the way in the back of the store! (I started whining here) OK, fine- let me stop everything so you can go pee for the 3rd time since we got here...(10 min. later) Yes, you were right, I'm sorry, you did have to pee. Ok, focus- MULCH- if I go with the cheaper one, is it cheap as in yuck?  
Let me ask someone....Oh, yes, Hi- I want 6 bags of this one. LLAMA, STOP CLIMBING ON THE BAGS, You're tearing holes in them!!!!!...Sorry about that- Why is there so much of this mulch and not the others? Oh, just restocked it..ahhh, gotcha. Yes, and I was wanting something for a Xeriscape, something native to plant on the corner of the house. Oh, that is nice (sneak peek at price) OK, well, let me look around- not quite sure if that's what I am looking for...LLAMA, STOP PICKING ALL THE FLOWERS OFF!...Thanks so much for helping me! ....and off we go...

Wasn't that a lovely experience? Now do that 4 more times this week, and I think you will have sympathy for me and be at my front door in the morning, ready to help finish this garden that I have fought so hard to get done!
WHAT? They do it on Yard Crashers!

Good night, all...

Satisfying the Questions of Llama

The family was watching American Idol last night, it was their annual "America gives back" episode. They provide relief to people in Africa stricken with AIDS. On the screen was a young girl. She looked like she was starving to death, but her story revealed that her mother died of AIDS and the lack of medical care meant this girl was born with HIV. These days, drugs make it easier for an infected mother, who is getting the right medications, to give birth to a child who would be disease free. Not so in this case.

Llama was very concerned for this girl. She was concerned that she was sick, that she was in the hospital and that she had no mother. Later, they showed that same girl after getting medical treatment and care. She was healthier, heavier and happier. Oh, what we can do with a few drugs and attention! Llama was glad the girl was better, but wanted to know if she was still in the hospital. She was not. She was in an orphanage.

Which brings us to THE conversation. What is an orphanage? Who will take care of her and help her if her mommy is dead? How did her mommy die? Will we die? To which Daddy Cool and I tried to answer her as plainly and honestly as we could. She was preoccupied with death for a few moments, a scary topic for many, and very scary to a child. Then she moved on to THE QUESTION.

She started by saying that she hoped someone would come and get the girl and take care of her. I mentioned maybe someone will adopt her. Adopt her? What is Adopt? Remember that you were born from another mommy's tummy, and then Daddy & I got to take care of you? That's 'adopt'. We adopted you and your bubba. Is my other mommy dead like that girls? No. Did she give me away to you, then? No. The mommy you were born from was sick with lots of problems and needed help to care for you. She is not dead. God gave you to us to love and take care of so we could be a family. You, Daddy, Joe and I. Yeah, and Spooky, too. Yes, and maybe someone will come and take that girl and love her and she can have a family, too, like us. Yeah, and she could be borned from another mommy, and then get a new mommy, daddy and bubba- and Spooky... Mommy, if that other lady gets better, will you have to give me back? Mommy, will you have to give me back? No, honey, you are ours forever. You will be my baby girl forever. Daddy and I will love you and care for you forever. OK. I have a family, and maybe that girl can have one, too. (insert thumb in mouth and suck in a very satisfied manner)

That was the general gist of the talk. It happened in just a few minutes, and I hope her heart will be satisfied. I know she will be more curious as she gets older, and I hope she will be able to process the bigness of adoption. Her brother has done well with it, processing it in his own way. But he is older and remembers more. She was a newborn. She remembers nothing else. Oh, how I wish she could never know otherwise. But I believe in truth and reality. And she is mine, born of my heart, pleaded for in my prayers- and she came. I can't help feeling that because we were blessed, all will go well.

She was satisfied to know that she is loved, cared for and belongs here. And that she will be here forever. Sort of like how we should feel with God. Glad to belong and be a part, and to be His child forever. There is part of a poem I keep, and my children make me think of it often:


They are idols of hearts and of households;
They are angels of God in disguise;
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses,
His glory still gleams in their eyes;
Oh, these truants from home and from heaven -
They have made me more manly and mild;
And I know now how Jesus could liken
The kingdom of God to a child!
~ Charles M. Dickinson

So, bring it on, Llama. Ask away. The wisdom I pray for, and often think I will never have, seems to come forth when you ask these very important questions. And when you ask them, I understand what the Bible means when it speaks of talking to each other with love. And I think the Love is the Wisdom- and I hope my sweet boy and girl can feel it and know that, although life is not perfect, so much can be made better by sharing that Love. I love you, Llama girl and Joe Cool.

Cinderella 101

Llama and I went to see Cinderella at a local Children's Theatre this weekend. Anyone with a young daughter will understand how significant an event this was. Llama woke early Saturday, on a mission to find the "perfect" outfit to wear. After arguing over why she couldn't wear her leotard or her 2 year old ratty, dirty old Cinderella dress, we headed to Wal-Mart to try and find something else appropriate.
If you've had the privilege to read "Pinkalicious", you can see what my child looked like. She had on a Pink Tutu, Sparkly crown, delicate slippers, white gloves complete with pink fur trim and a "cupcake" wand- just to tie the whole ensemble together. Ridiculously frilly in concept, yet perfect in it's 5 yr-old execution. She felt beautiful- like a Princess.
The play was fun, a Rogers & Hammerstein musical, which is not the Disney story most of the kids are used to. Llama spent most of her time asking when Cinderella was going to go to the ball, and get married and KISS THE PRINCE. The most important part of any Princess story- THE KISS. For my Llama, that was the icing on the cupcake- the pinnacle of perfection, the Taj to her Mahal. The wide-eyed grin she turned and gave me when Prince Charming kissed Cinderella was priceless.
Ah, to be so innocent to think a kiss is all it takes! After the play, the characters came out to sign autographs for the kids. In the interest of time between shows- The Prince and Cinderella were not allowed to pose for pictures, just sign autographs in a quickly moving line. Llama, who had stripped most of her accessories off, quickly put them all back so that she would be decked out to meet Royalty. She would have loved to climb into Cinderella's lap and talk to her, to hug her, to ask her about Kissing the Prince. Alas, she had to be satisfied with staring at them in their regal wedding attire- a wistful sigh on her lips and yearning in her eyes.
Llama spent the rest of that day, and the next, pretending to be a Princess. I had to pry the wand out of her hand, and peel the outfit off of her for church. She got a souvenir glass slipper, which she promptly tried to put on...
Next month, it's Peter Pan. She already asked if he is going to fly...now to watch and be sure she doesn't try it herself!

I look at my Pinkerella and think back to my youth. I am thankful that I am able to help her indulge her imagination. Since having her cast removed, she is leery about doing gymnastics again. I have given her the choice of gymnastics or trying a dance class. I wish I had been given those choices as a child. But a military Dad just didn't understand how desperately I wanted to be a Ballerina. I would practice Pirouette's and Plies. I did a marvelous Arabesque on the footstool to Beach Boys tunes on the 8-track.
Sigh...I could've been a Prima Ballerina!! So now, as a mom, I try to listen to my children's dreams...and as long as she wants to be a Princess, I will help her in any way I can. After all, we will not pass this way again, and I hope she will one day look back and remember the time she was a Fairy, a Princess, a Super-Star...a Llama, Llama Girly Drama!!!

Spring fever

Who knew that earthquakes in Chile would result in a tomato shortage? So, because we sell quite a bit of produce during the peak season at our shop, and we are unwilling to pay 2-3x normal cost for sub-par tomatoes, we are busy building large square gardens to grow tomatoes in.
Llama and I had planted two smaller 4x4 gardens with cucumbers, lettuce, green beans, carrots, strawberries and cantelope. Just enough for our family.Now we are going to be tending 3 or 4 8x8 gardens full of tomatoes,onions and bell peppers- all in short supply this year. Fun, fun. At least, because they are raised beds, we won't be stooped over weeding all season. Now to keep fire ants and animals out...

Spring brings with it 30mph sustained winds, which ruins the 80* fun. We were 6 days short of the 100 year old record for number of days below 80*, until today. If you've ever lived in Texas, you know that's a big deal. Hopefully April will be softer and mild. I'm so not ready for the Texas heat.
I also hope April will bring better things for Joe Cool. Without details, poor Joe is deep in the throws of 15. He is like a cable TV channel- All Drama, All the Time, 24/7, 12 months, 365- and yesterday was the Special Movie-of-the-week. He surprised us with a subtle (not) hint of what turmoil is going on in his mind. Joe is the strong, silent type. Unless he yells back, I don't have a clue what he's feeling or thinking. I didn't yell at him, and he didn't yell back. He didn't say a word, yet I heard him loud and clear. And poor kid forgets he lives in a small town, where news spreads fast- thankfully he was home before all my hair fell out.
So, now I am left looking around and into myself. Am I too smothering? Too hard? Too soft? Too vocal? What do I not understand, and why don't I get it? Cool Daddy didn't seem too upset- he got right to the heart of the matter and laughed it off. I had nightmares. I hurt for him. I wish I could take his cares away.
Today I want to crawl into Joe's head and dig around until I get it. Maybe it's not just him, but all males. I hope Llama girl isn't like this. I hope, because she's a girl, that she will be more verbal with her thoughts. There isn't anything wrong with Joe, I'm just a woman who looks at the male species through a telescope.He's on Mars, I'm on Venus. And the mental cell phone service here bites.

Spring Fever also brings that ridiculous thing we call Daylight Savings Time. That wonderful thing that makes us stay out late, enjoying the warmth and tending the yard, that thing that makes us not sleepy at bed time- also makes us all look like zombies in the morning. Poor Llama is still bouncing around at 10pm, only to stand in the living room at 7am looking like she isn't going to survive her late night bender.

So, between the yard, the time, the garden, the laundry, the dishes, and the errands, I am trying to get a grip on this new reality. The time has changed, the seasons as well. And I hope that the new fragile state of Joe is temporary. That he doesn't break. That with Gods help, we can hold him tenderly enough to protect him, support him and help him move forward with as few dings, chips or cracks as possible. After all, anyone who has a Joe Cool or Llama, Llama in their possession understands just what precious, and valued treasures they are. Priceless.

Growing Boy

Joe Cool got his letter jacket today. He looked so "cool" sauntering into the house, waiting for us to ooo-ahhh over him. Now, just by looking at his coat, I know what year he graduates, his last name, what instrument he plays and for sure, that his school colors are purple & white. So awesome.

In the last few weeks, really- more like every day- I see him growing up. Making decisions. Not always good ones, like having no good reason for not turning in math work on time. But still, generally speaking, more mature decisions.
Out of the same mouth that can rattled on about sports highlights, and whine about not getting his way, comes things like: "Dad, when I get my license, I think I should drive Old Flaky to school and you should drive the Ranger, because the Ranger gets better gas mileage, and you have farther to go to work. Then, when I leave for college, I will drive it, cuz I will be driving farther."

It really is fun to watch the lights switch on in that brain of his. He is even trying to outgrow the drama of girls. Gossipy girls. Dramatic, over-the-top girls. Lead-him-around-by-the-ring-in-his-nose girls. Now he has settled on a girl that is sweet, funny, hard working, gentle, and-this is very important- can't text, so they talk on the phone-a lot! Sigh. It's (sniffle) beautiful. Not saying he won't be a dork sometimes, but we are so glad to see him try to pull that ring out of his nose (not literally-his dad would kill him) and start leading himself around with his brain!

Joe's report card last time was even good. Well, good for him. No failing grades. Mostly A's. He wouldn't have had C's in 2 classes if he had turned his work in on time- the direct result of refusing to write things down, and trying to rely on a 15 yr-old boy brain to remember all he has to do. (yeah, that's funny).

It's really wild to know that scientifically, boys don't mature to their best until around 24- that sense of reason, logic and consequences is still trying to fully form. So if it seems he is doing this good, that he is this good NOW- what in the world will he be like THEN? Blows my mind.

Of course, we haven't ventured into the dating scene yet. It's coming quickly, the license will be obtained this summer. He smells good when he leaves for school, takes extra time brushing his braces (wonder why?) and fusses with his hair and face more. He has even been occasionally cleaning his room-voluntarily. No joke. Shocked me, too. Me thinks that red-headed girl is a good influence. :)

I really have no point to this, other than to marvel at what God made when he made teenagers. I wonder- when people lived 800+ years, how long did the adolescent phase last? I can't imagine funky gym socks and attitude for 50 years! Yikes!

If you have ever seen Snoopy as Joe Cool, you know how my Joe rolls- sometimes Cool, sometimes he loses it, always waiting for more food with empty bowl in hand... and yet, he dances that dance, that famous Snoopy dance- chin back, big grin on- groovin' to his own beat and learning to navigate around his world in his happy, carefree way.

She's 5

My Llama is 5. Last night I commented on the behavior of 5-year-old's, and it really hit me. My baby is 5. My unexpected, but secretly begged for, bundle of love is 5. My precocious, obnoxious, joyous, boisterous, one-of-a-kind Princess, is 5.

1- you were a blur. 2- you were a delight. 3- you were what I thought 2 would be. 4- you were a rapid-fire pistol with a hair trigger. What does 5 mean? It will be interesting to wait and see.

I will for sure have to be more careful with my sarcastic 'whit'- yesterday she asked me why I wear makeup to church, to which I replied, " so I don't scare people". Well, no more than 20 minutes later, while arguing with her about what she could take to Bible class with her, she agreed to leave the tiara behind, but the purple lipstick was staying in her pink-casted grip. Why? "Because I have to keep putting it on when it comes off, so I am beautiful and so I don't scare people." sigh.

She was doing cartwheels this weekend. Yes- with her cast on, her arm bent at 90 degrees. No, I don't know how. But with her 3 week check up this week, if the doctor suggests a shorter cast, I may ask him how having a free-to-move elbow and cart wheels will affect the healing. Amazing how determined she can be! She was trying to swing on the monkey bars as well. I think if the cast material between her thumb and first finger had not been so bulky, she would have been swinging across them proudly.

I sometimes wonder: what do others think of my girl? What do they think of us as parents? She is forward, open and stubborn. But I truly sometimes have a hard time holding her back. Oh, we expect respect and obedience. But my heart really doesn't want to slow her down. I secretly rejoice in her wild abandon. I admire her bravado. I envy her determination. I don't want to stifle her, so I try to direct her. Several times I have said, and others have told me, that she will be a hand full as a teen. We are hoping to direct her toward things that will allow her to be the joy that she is.

Like a Dandelion. I don't want to pick the wild out of this flower, or try to contain it, only to watch it wither away. I want to see her grow, wildly beautiful, on her own terms. Not easily controlled, looked on with disdain by some as a pesky weed, but loved by others as a fun, happy flower that springs up overnight, ready to play- blow! blow! blow! come dance and twirl in the winds with me! Ah, I can see her- can you?
My Dandelion- made by God, and therefore, worthy of a chance to BE. I pray for God's guidance to help her grow in praise of Him and the flower He has created.

My Dandelion is 5, watch out world- here she comes.

Broken hearts and arms

Joe Cool is grounded from his phone, again.Poor guy just doesn't think the ground rules apply to him, apparently. No deleting texts. No calls or texts after 9pm. No asking girls out or breaking up via text. No offensive messages or pictures from or to you.
I just don't understand how stupid kids think we adults are. I mean, in my day, my parents had no proof of secret conversations on the phone (unless the calls were long distance, and realllly long- say to that guy you were in love with that you talked to for hours on end) (what? i paid them back!). If a kid decided then to deceive her parents, it was way easier than it is today. Today, cell phones exist. Every kid has one or wants one. It doesn't fly that they can't call, didn't know what time it was, didn't hear it ring, or had the phone off. Because all parents know that the teens text constantly, check messages compulsively and never have it on ring, but they answer those vibrating tones quicker than a viper strikes.

I am not a mom that wants to snoop. I really don't want to know everything that is going on in my kids life. But when their behavior and attitude warrant it, I am not above snooping like the best blood hound on the planet. And my poor son just doesn't get it. He was shocked that his use of the cell phone/texting for multiple break-ups and renewed vows of love with the same girl over 3 days, plus the late night texts, deleted conversations, and the final straw of compulsively calling and texting another girl (who was at work and couldn't talk) to ask her out (for the Nth time) resulted in loss of phone use. Seriously? Seriously?!
So, he is phone-less and actually SPOKE on a real phone with his VOICE yesterday- to a GIRL. It was amazing. I don't know when he will get his cell phone back, but I am in no hurry- this is kinda fun...of course it would be even more nostalgic if the land-line phone he used still had a 50ft. coiled cord attached that snaked down the hallway and under his locked door....but watching his leap like a gazelle to grab the cordless was fun,too. :) I jsut wish there was a way to pick up the other cordless phone and start dialing over their conversations...LOL.

Llama girl has been busy as well. She got sick with an ear infection and tonsillitis, after regular doctors office hours, of course. Did you ever notice that a child has 10 times the energy after recovering? Well, by Sunday, my Llama was so wired with renewed health, we had to sit in the back at church because she just couldn't sit still- or rather, she wouldn't quit sitting upside down with her feet waving in the face of the people in the pew behind us. For all the wonderful technology that antibiotic medication is, what with saving lives and all- Zithromax broke my Llama's arm.
OK, so not literally. But curing her infections and all that energy made her decide that she might be Olympics bound with this. very. cartwheel. Watch Me!!!!! Nothing unusual for her, she does cartwheels and flips all the time. She took off running, planted her hands down, flipped over...and landed on her stomach because her arm broke mid-flip.
So, now we have an almost 5 year-old in a bright pink cast. For. 6-8. WEEKS.
It was a clean break, no complications. Lots of attention, gifts, cards and sympathy, poor baby girl, right? Oh, wait- we almost forgot who we are speaking of. Her name IS Llama, Llama, Girlie Drama for a REASON!!!
So, she is one-winged and acts like an invalid when it suits her, particularly when I am cooking supper, or when it is time to clean up her room. Her casted arm only itches when she is sleepy, and the new complaint last night was that the cotton lining was sticking to her hand?!

This is Day 5 of logging my slow decent into insanity. Take note so that when my trial begins, I will have a legitimate defense, please.

Procrastination

Procrastination is my middle name. I do my best work when put in a crunch. Well, that's what I used to tell myself. Then I had kids. I have since learned, slowly, that things that I put off until Scarlett O'Hara's famous "tomorr'a is anoth'a day" rarely get done. Not only that, but then I have to explain to my husband why I didn't do it. Talk about feeling like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

So, today I am procrastinating doing the last of our tax stuff. We have QuickBooks online, which links to our bank account, and has made my life 90% easier when it comes to entering expenses in the register. All too easy. So easy that I have gotten 8 months behind in entering the details of those entries. I see that the phone bill cleared the bank, and that QB logged it- but the darned QB doesn't enter the name of the bill or what category it goes under- just the amount. Sigh. SO, now I am playing avoidance with my Boss- who happens to be my husband. Are we ready to turn our taxes in yet...ummmmmmm, not quite ready, dear. This week! Promise! that was last week...

So I guess I will get it done today...I hate having to get things done, why can't I put it off until tomorrow?

I suppose I learned at an early age that procrastinating was good for me. Waiting to finish homework, especially writing book reports, almost always resulted in good grades. Not to say all my grades were good- just those that I waited to finish. I still find my self waiting, pondering, dwelling on things in my mind. I am teaching K-2 grade Bible class right now and do I spend all week planning our class activity? Have you not been reading this? So I find myself, at 20 minutes before the bell, scrounging for glue, and darting around in the rain for sticks to make a picture of Abraham & Isaac. And the project came out well and was fun!

BUT, this bad habit has resulted in me putting off serious exercise and diet habits for 10 years. Come to think of it, the last time I got serious about getting healthy was 2 years ago, when I went to a "Military brat" reunion. Again, I had a deadline- I needed to be thinner. What is my motivation now? Hmmmmmm. I was thinking of something like a jar with money in it- $1 for every pound I have to lose. I get the money back with each lost pound....but, no, that isn't motivating enough. Sigh. I am working on working toward motivating myself to do this. It is incredibly hard to change a life-long habit. So, I will think on it....perhaps tomorrow....after all....

TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY!

Old Friends and Memories

Ok, so first let me say, it is not easy to get out of the house on a Wednesday. Alone. On time. I was late leaving, got muddy in the rain, had no time to go buy that cute top I just know was waiting for me at the store, and everyone was driving 50mph on the highway. Dropped Llama at a friends and dashed out- humidity induced frizz frizzing behind me. I was an hour late.

I was an hour late to visit my long lost BFF's, the ones I fretted about seeing. And of course, I was silly to worry. Yes, I am still fat. Yes, I still need to shop for some cuter duds- so I looked shlumpy. But as soon as the door opened- voila- a hug, a look, and we were pals again. (a bummer that one friend couldn't make it- Connie lives 4 hours away)

It had been 22 years since 2 of us moved away. Chris still lives there in the big city, Jasmine has been in Australia for 18 years, and I am in a small rural town, Population 500. Between the three of us, there was more gray, more wrinkles, 5 marriages (2,2,1) and 10 children (4,4,2). Strangers with a common past.
But the more we talked, about the past and our lives now, the more familiar we became. The faces might have changed, but the voice, the mannerisms and the things that make us quirky and unique are the same. And the eyes - I could see my memories in their eyes. I understand now exactly how effective those pictures with the eyes blacked out can be. You think you know who that is, but without the eyes, are you sure?

Oddly, we all intended to bring pictures to share and we all forgot.

I got to meet their spouses. It was great fun to talk with an Australian that has never been to America. Jazz' husband, Mark is a witty, smart man. He commented on how many restaurants we have and how unique the bright yellow school buses are to us. And, of course, that we drive on the wrong side of the road. Oh, and when are we going to go with the rest of the world to the Metric System? (I wonder that myself, my teachers lied- I don't think we're any closer to doing that since they tried to convince us that we needed to learn it!) He takes wonderful pictures. And the accent is greatness. Australians end their words on an up-note. Life sounds more pleasant when ending on an up-note.
Mindy, Chris' wife, was quiet but pleasant, and clearly loves her husband. Like so many have in this down economy, she just recently found another job after being out of work for awhile. She doesn't like her new job, but is glad to have one at all. With 4 children, I can imagine the financial strain!
Unfortunately, Jazz was in town because her father passed away recently. A sad reason to come home. She is the youngest of 6, so her 2 week visit is full of family. I am hoping they might get to come my way before she leaves. Maybe. Her family is busy trying to give them real Texas experiences. What is that? They did the rodeo and stockyards. They bought some cowboy boots. Good enough.

We shared our fleeting memories of our time together. Through the bits and pieces we had a few funny stories- the swimming pool, boys we had crushes on, music we loved. I think without the spouses we would have reminisced more, but not wanting to be rude, we didn't. 4 hours later and we are yawning. Parents with responsibilities. Bummer. I would have loved to stay up all night and get to know them all again. But alas, life happens.

So we took some pictures, we hugged and parted ways. Through the world of cyberspace, we will stay in touch. But this wonderful time was an example of what I tell my son- Facebook, MySpace, email,Texting- none of it is nearly as good as a face-to-face. There is nothing personal about talking with your keyboard. Communication is 90% body language. Our visit was relaxed and familiar. I am so glad to have gotten to see them both and meet their spouses.

Perhaps one day I will make it to Australia. I have always wanted to go. Until then, I will FB, Flikr and Skype. We forget over time how much we loved some people. We forget how important they were. We forget how influential they are in helping make us who we are. And to get the chance to remember in person is a gift. I am thankful.

Frustration

I would love for someone to explain to me how one teenager can be all about getting good grades for college, and another is all about doing as little as necessary to keep average to sub-par grades?

Care to guess which category Joe Cool is in? I know the problem is that he doesn't want to deal with the pressure of hard work- he avoids it like the plague. Not a high-stress coping kind of guy. Hopefully, he will live a long life by being his mellow, fun-loving self.

To make it even better (by that , I mean worse), he got his results back on the ACT test- basically a test given to tell you, based on your scores, what area of skill you might consider for a career as an adult. It could be interesting, I suppose, to see if the test might help narrow down your choices since there is such a great big,wide world out there and deciding on one thing can be hard.
On the other hand, this test could also make you feel like a moron who is doomed to ditch digging in the swamps. Joe said he wanted to perhaps consider the education field- maybe a teacher. He was shot down. He was told he scored below college readiness in all areas- English, Math, Reading and Science. Why? Because he is not in honors classes. He was then given suggested career choices based on his scores...
My son, one of the most friendly, lovable, kind young men, was told he might consider Manufacturing(tool & dye maker, dry cleaner), Mechanics (Auto/aircraft mechanic), Transportation Operation (cab/bus driver-yes, it actually lists that), and some other jobs, none of which he has ever been interested in. While I do not consider any of these jobs bad, so to speak, I was very disheartened by the cold statistical analysis that presumes test scores to be an accurate measure of a persons abilities. He just might be a mechanic one day, and I pray he is happy regardless of what he chooses. But for some group of people to.... well, I won't get too wound up- you parents know where I am going with this.

And so, this has left his parents prayer harder, and fretting more over his already volatile self-esteem and future. Can he be whatever he chooses? Certainly. Can he go to college and be one of the best teachers on earth- Ab-So-Lutely. (can't he?)
Why then do we narrow the World of Opportunity for our children down to a "Career List" of 26 categories, A-Z?? My father used to promise me as a child that I could do anything I chose to if I just set my mind to it. I believed him then and I believe that now. Yes, hard work and determination are involved somewhere in the career equation. Right now, my son doesn't see that need. Perhaps he hasn't found a goal important enough to him to work that hard.
Like Peter Pan, he is trying to stay in Neverland, never to grow up, never to take on boring adult responsibilities. It is frustrating for him and his parents. Slowly I do see changes, so painfully slow at times. But, seriously, after being told by 4 graphs and 6 charts what you are good for...who wouldn't want to go with Peter to the Lost Boys hideout and never come out again? I just might pack our bags tonight! We're coming Tink!

Sabotage

I have discovered that I am not supposed to be super model thin. I used to feel like Cindy Crawford under all this, just knowing that one day I would grow 5 inches, have long, flowing hair and legs that start where my chin is now.
I now know that will never be. I know this because of pizza night. I have been working on small lifestyle changes to my diet. I had a salad when everyone else had pasta and pizza. I made myself pasta for lunch and ended up throwing most of it out. Yay, me.
Then today, the evil public school system announces that it is CiCi's night for the Elementary School. 10% of sales goes to the school. How can I not support that? Shame on Satan for using small children and cheese covered dough to ruin me. Sigh. Oh, I can hear you now- they have soup and salad there, too. True, and I just might do that. But you try sitting in the middle of the factory that makes your favorite food and nibble on plants. Not always fun.


On another note, the weather is sabotaging my 'List of Household Work to be Done'. Balmy and bright when I made the list, it has been windy and wet- and it will be frigid tomorrow- not conducive to painting, repairing or soil preparing.

The many mom things I do that rely on the internet are also being sabotaged. Pay taxes? Frozen screen. Look up trailers for the Band? An error has shut me down. Paying bills? Internet security is taking so long to do a daily scan, it times out the funds so I have to wait 45 minutes to resend and make sure I didn't double pay.

I am thinking of getting out the vaccum and searching for Gremlins. Sabotage is frustrating, tiresome, annoying, and makes me want to throw something.

But then, God reaches over and sends a little thumb sucking Llama over to duck under my arm and say, "Momma, I love you- I want you to come play with me." And I know that my work is being put to the side, again- Ahhh, what a wonderful way to be sabotaged.

Basic Anatomy

Llama is 4. She is blatantly honest. She is curious. And loudly talkative... And I thought it would be cool to buy a 'lift-the-flap' book about the human body. Slap me.

It really is a fun book, we get to talk about the lungs and how smoking affects them. We dwell on how muscles move bones; how the heart pumps blood and why we need to eat good food. Red blood cells, taste buds, spinal cord, and snot.

Llama and crew are now obsessed with the digestive system. The book describes, in perfect child-level detail, how the food goes from the mouth, through the body, to the toilet- all with revealing flaps at each stop along the way. And the wonderful authors of this book, with its nifty flaps, had the forethought to include a very exciting flap.... the flap that reveals what happens to food once it comes to the end of the line, so to speak.

Yes, I speak of that 'P' word that rhymes with 'soup'. Ok, so I'll just say it- poop. There, happy?
The book calls it Waste, but we children LOVE the cartoonish brown blob under that flap at the end of the large intestine. I mean, judging by their reaction, it's like the biggest thrill of their lives thus far. (excluding their first trip to Chuck-E-Cheese's, of course).

And that's not all, they roll around in fits of laughter to learn that our rear-end is just a muscle that helps us move our legs. You'd think we were looking at a bare fanny from the reaction! Oh, wait, you'd have to see the faces when we find out what boogers are made of! Bet you wish you could lift that flap personally! :) And the poor kidneys and bladder are getting their flap worn out, all for the love of seeing some pee-yellow colored drips.

I say all this to let you know that this Llama is so smart, so aware, that she entertains herself (and tortures me) with the retelling of how her anatomy works while in the public bathroom at Kohls. While eating lunch at McDonalds. While 40 people are waiting to use the packed stalls at the movies.
Everywhere, unsuspecting children, elderly and anyone within hearing distance will shortly learn how asthma constricts the lungs. How the eyeball sees. How the brain sends messages down our spine. And what poop is. Never forget, you need to know what poop is. If you aren't sure what poop is, ask Llama.

It is wonderful that she learns so quickly. I do love teaching her new things. And,really, it might be helpful information for some stranger at Walmart, right?

I am considering a slight delay on the reproductive anatomy lesson, however, until she can learn to stop announcing where she doesn't want to grow hair when she grows up- to the nice lady in the stall next to hers at Walmart...

For the Family

Last night, my husband and son decided to place a wager on who would win the Saints-Vikings game. Joe Cool picked the Vikings; Dad, the Saints. The loser has to wash dishes every night for a week. It was a real nail-biter, my son being the most nervous about losing and having to expose his skin to soapy water for seven days straight. He had reason to be worried- Joe Cool Jr. Lost.

Just before the game ended, I made the comment that I was the REAL winner in this deal, regardless of the outcome. Me. Mom. Chief cook and bottle washer. Dish washer extraordinaire.

My husband looked at me funny and said, " I thought the things we do around here were for the entire family, not just for one person." It gave me pause. It made me ponder. I wondered if I should be ashamed for my view on this. Then it occurred to me that if what we do around the house if for each other, then how come I do all the doing?

The flip side of that thought was the understanding that my husband works 60+ hours a week for the family, not just himself. He puts us first by providing for us, and I put them first by doing for them. (I won't list all the ways I help with the business and his other work as well.)

So, now I feel guilty, as usual, for wishing someone else would lighten my load. I feel bad asking Dad for help since he works so much. Joe Cool helps if I drag him away from the solar system where he is the Center of the Universe. Llama is some help when she can be, but generally she is at the age where picking up and cleaning are beneath her- since she's a Princess and all.

I suppose it is my fault for taking the housework load on to myself. Tending to the house, chores, etc. is something everyone should do to help the family function smoothly and efficiently.
I guess what I feel is that while we should all pitch in, no one thinks of doing so.

Oh, occasionally, when the dishes are blocking access to to the coffee pot, Dad will load the dish washer. And Joe Cool will do it without too much fussing, never without being asked and rarely thoroughly. I guess what I need is some consistency. Some predictability of who will be doing what, when.

And so, tonight- after I finishing cleaning up when everyone has gone to bed- I think I will make a chore chart for the entire family. Like Jo-Jo on SuperNanny, I will make a sticker chart for Llama, and if the guys need it, I will go find some gold star stickers so they too can feel accomplished. Just like I do when the floor is freshly swept, mopped and shiny....just before they track mud across it.

:) Happy Monday!

A brief moment

Just a few moments ago, while riding home from our weekly treat of McDonald's for lunch with the kids, I got the sweetest surprise.
The only boy I care for, almost 4 yr old Spiderman, was slurping away on his drink when he said, "Mrs. Caffy, I wuv you."

And that, my friends, made my day.

Hi, my name is Mama, and I'm fat

I have a friend whom I haven't seen in 22 years. She is coming to Texas to visit her family and hopefully we will be able to get together along with a few other friends from the grand old 80's.

Last night, as I closed my eyes for the day, it occurred to me that I am 22 years older than I used to be, several pounds heavier and a few wrinkles past 16. Egads!

In my mind we are in suspended animation, hair teased as high as possible, slouch socks and Ked's on our feet- Bruce Springsteen and Wham! are still playing on the radio. We sit by the boom-box and smack 'record' on the cassette tape deck as soon as the DJ stops talking over our favorite song. And the biggest cares in the world we have are who kissed whom, who will get their drivers license first, and if our parents will let us hang out at the mall- alone.

Through this great gadget called the internet, I have seen what she looks like now....the same. Oh, the laugh lines are deeper, and life has put more concern in her eyes, but outwardly, she hasn't changed much. I have. And she is coming in a week. With her husband. No time to lose 40 pounds. Hormones are wreaking havoc on my hair lately, it's in a perpetual state of ick. And my wardrobe is 'laundry day' chic.

This has made me realize how much I have let myself go. It's bad. I have been chalking it up to the kids, the business, lack of structure to our hectic schedules and that I am too busy to be fashionable and in shape. But she and another friend I will see both have 2 kids, jobs and lives. So what's the deal? Laziness somedays. Lack of pride in myself, others. Putting myself last, for sure.

So, I will go shopping for a cute outfit, if one can be found in the size 'yuck'. I will work on the hair. I will start writing down what I eat every moment, and we will see. I secretly would like to set a goal of walking in the 60 mile Breast cancer 3-Day, but I am afraid of failing. I am afraid of having to work that hard. I am afraid of leaving this fat, but familiar and comfortable body behind.

I feel great when I am thinner, no doubt. I feel more confident and prettier. I like how my husband looks at me then. So why can't I get motivated to do it? I don't know. There are all kinds of excuses that come to mind, but are any of them reasonable? I watch Biggest Loser, and I know that no excuse is a good one. I sure wish Jillian lived with me.

Sigh. Enough pity party for me. In a week I will see the faces of a wonderful time in my life and I will love seeing them. Fat or not. Meanwhile, I will go find my spiral, write down the cinnamon roll I had for breakfast, weigh myself and write it down, and go work on my hair.

I will update on my progress later.

Rules of Children

Along with my own Llama- age 4, I am privileged to also care for a Llama in the making-1 1/2, a Certified Princess-4, and a Super Hero-3. Needless to say, every day is an adventure. We have also been foster parents and often have other kids with us.

Here are several common truths I have learned... (not necessarily related to the current children at all)...

1. The "MINE" rule is real: What's mine is mine, what's yours is mine. And the patience level is directly related to how badly I want it to be 'mine' right NOW.
2. There will always be one child that does not want to do whatever it is everyone else is doing.
3. There will always be one child that wants to be alone- in the middle of whatever room everyone else is in.
4. There will always be a 50/50 divide on macaroni and cheese preferences- half prefer traditional Kraft, the other half likes Velveeta shells & cheese. So every other time, 2 kids won't eat.

4.1. Some might not like peanut butter, others, no jelly- but no one likes crust- so be sure to have some long blade scissors on hand to simplify crust removal!

5. If you present a food the kids don't like, let them make it gross and they'll eat it. Carrots are nasty? Dip them in yogurt and ketchup- instant YUM. I still don't know why.
6. Socks are bio-degraded and disappear as soon as they land on the floor.
7. A diaper clad child will often poop when you are in a hurry and on your way out the door.
8. The amount of snot expelled with a sneeze is directly related to the distance the child is out of reach from a tissue wielding mother in the car.
9. The children have figured out how to not be seen hitting each other or fighting, they can even do it out of view of my 'eyes in the back of my head'.
10. If a child says, "what?" or "huh?" to a question, they did it. period.
11. A dancing child is often in denial about needing to pee, and will only admit it after fully clothed in 3 layers of coats, sweaters and gloves...
12. Waking a child before they are done napping is not beneficial to your sanity.
13. Any business that does not offer either the exact same gender generic toy, or the right number of gender specific toys should be boycotted and should be aware that they may one day have to pay for my medications.
14. If you care for a few beloved children, complete strangers will think you are fair game to ask if you will care for their kids. They do not know you, they do not care. Scarey, huh?
15. Libraries are the best place for a parent to let off steam- all that "shhhhh"-ing is just steam.
16. Reading books will save a parents sanity, always, in any situation.
17. A parent sitting in the floor is an automatic monkey perch, pillow, trampoline and wrestling opponent. All at once. And happily.
18. The number of variations of naptime kisses is infinite. Princess, Frog, Batman and Ballerina kisses are all completely different, yet perfect in their execution from slobbery kid lips!
19. The length of a child's nap is exactly 1/2 as long as you need it to be.
20. Never be afraid to become completely absorbed in the book you are reading to the child to the extent that you do all the voices, motions and facial expressions. The look on the kids faces is worth it, always.

and 21. Never forget that hugs, kisses and snuggles are always welcome, even if they're mad. And they are freely given back in return, always, even when you are mad.

And my lesson for today...that broken stick you saw but didn't move before the child climbed up the tree? Yeah, she fell.. yeah, it scratched her. Every time.

Happy Wednesday ya'll!

Trickery!

So, this morning, Joe Cool is up early, dressed and eating breakfast. I comment on how lively he is, chalking it up to him going to bed early last night because he was exhausted from a long weekend.

But then...

He happily helped his sister get out of bed. (my eyebrow raised) Then he laughed with her as he helped her brush her teeth. (my mouth hangs open) AND he combed and fixed her hair, nicely. (does he want money?)AND he wanted to make her breakfast...
(I asked him what he wanted at this point)

Llama wanted oatmeal. He let her help him make it. He put their backpacks in the car. He fed the cat and cleaned out the litter box... ( I wondered if I died and gone to heaven, or was he an alien who replaced my abducted teen?)

THEN, I smell it- some strong 'boy if it smells good with one spray, 10 sprays would be awesome' kind of scented fog wafting down the hallway. AH HA! I've got him, this must be all about a GIRL! I am not dead, it's just hormones...

5 minutes later, he announces that it is time to leave for school. It is 7:25am. 5-10 minutes before we typically leave. I am still in a robe. I tell him that we can't leave now, I'm not dressed and his sister doesn't get to school this early (she usually gets dropped off first).

Poof. The illusion is over. He starts dancing around, trying to not yell and have a fit. So, I ask about the girl, why he has to go so early to see her? Here it is, I think smuggly, he is going to have to admit there is a girl, and who she is...

Crud. Not a girl. Morning D-Hall. Too many tardies in a 3 week time period and you get D-Hall. He has to be there by 7:30. And the clock is ticking...and it will be my fault if he is late and he will get another D-Hall. Of course, all my fault. Riiigggghhhhtt. Gotcha.

Sigh. I liked the illusion, it was a fun 30 minutes of perfection. Family Bliss. I love that boy. I could strangle him sometimes.

Is it bad that I sure hope he gets more tardies, and soon?

The Fruit

Ok, so today is much more calm. We have company, two of 3 siblings that lived with us for 18 months, several years ago. We love having them and we claim them as ours. Llama tells everyone she has 3 brothers and a sister, and after a few days with us, occasionally one will slip and call us Mom or Dad. And that's ok, because that is the part we play, and we love them.

I was going to continue to delve into those "fruit of the spirit" that I have yet to master, so today I will think about 'Kindness'. Such a deceptive word with such a broad range of ways to use it. An action that sometimes I forget to use.

Oh, I know how to be polite- though I often interrupt others. I know how to let someone else in line before me, and I know how to give a hug at church. I guess when I think about kindness I realize that I am lacking in the area of going out of my way. If you are in my path, no problem, I can kindness you to pieces. If I need to call or visit, make something, or take time away from my day-forget it.
I suppose it is a level of arrogance to not reach out from my well-worn path. And the only excuse I have is that the habits of life have dug a rut and are hard to steer out of.

When I stop to think of all that can define kindness, I end up with more actions than words. And when I really think, kindness is something that can be practiced every minute- every single minute. Wow. Now that is not easy...yet. I have seen kindness in human form, so I know it is attainable; I envy terribly those wonderful people who model kindness in everything they do.

So, I am going to work on turning the wheel and driving on a path that allows me to be more kind. Funny how these fruit that grow on the Spirit tree all seem to work together....patience and kindness go hand-in-hand. Crud. So I can't be one without the other. Geesh, talk about a serious overhaul and remodel!
Look out, construction zone ahead.....

Boys are Ostriches

I am sorry to admit it, but, well... I have a teenage son. Wait, on second thought, perhaps I should proudly be declaring that, because he has survived my wrath this long. I know this is quite the feat because of a certain phrase that I have said so often, even his 4 yr old sister now says it, "What were you thinking son?"

I know, that is another of those dumb parent questions that we instantly regret, knowing that we will get some idiotic answer.

Today, we are riding the merry-go-'round about his cell phone. No, he hasn't been getting or sending anything inappropriate. This time, he was too lazy to buy his texting minutes and has spent $50 in two weeks, mostly through texting.

I am going to call this what Dave Ramsey does- this is a Joe Cool "stupid tax". He has a pay-as-you-go phone, to help him manage his money and phone usage. $20 would have paid for a months worth of texting, the other $30 was given to him as a gift by his Granny. Because he was too lazy, obtuse, stubborn or whatever, he now is out of minutes and has 2 weeks of time left before he is allowed to buy more. (we help him budget by letting him renew the minutes once a month)

Ostriches in the sand. Boys. TEEN Boys. Sticking their heads down deep in the comfort of the sand, blocking out noise and thought. Coming up for air only long enough to vacuum out the refrigerator, look around while scratching something and saying, "WHUT?" and "HUH?" with a Homer Simpson, "DOH" face.

If I were a Mama Ostrich, I would have plucked all my own feathers out by now. I would be walking around with my scrawny bird legs and a bare Ostrich tush waddling- honking (what do ostriches sound like, anyway?) and pecking Joe in the head. Sigh. Instead, I use my mommy-isms and walk around muttering to myself, shaking my head and eating pasta.

This is another of those learning and growing moments. I know. But man, I sure wish this turkey, I mean ostrich, would bring back that fella with a brain and common sense- Please, and for the love of his mothers sanity, soon.

Llama causes Mama Trauma

On a side note away from my 'Fruit-y" post, I would like to discuss a certain little girl.
This girl, Llama, Llama, Girly Drama, is almost 5 now, and two years ago she was excited to be a flower girl in a beloved friends wedding. She did a wonderful job and was beautiful in her creamy white "wedding dress". To help her understand what her job was in the wedding, we told her it was her job to help her friends get married. She twisted that around and still tells people that she is already married, she married Szalan & Ryan. I began thinking perhaps we had watched one too many Disney Princess movies...

This leads me to yesterday. Yesterday, my sweet, innocent, lively bundle of love finally let her curiosity get to her....and she played kissing with a certain 'younger man'. She has been preoccupied with kissing since that wedding 2 years ago, and when she sees her parents kiss, however briefly, she tries to get us to give her, "long kisses on the lips". Again, one too many Belle and Cinderella movies.

SO, I find her letting this boy smooch her belly. I almost fainted. Perhaps a slight overreaction, but there was my angel baby and this boy- who is also a wonderfully perfect child- smooching. Barf. When asked what they were doing, the boy said, "playing cowboys". I knew who the instigator of this game was, so I turned to Llama and did that dumb thing, I asked her, "Who's idea was this?"

(Now that left me open to all kinds of outrageous replies, I know, but every once in awhile, a parent just says one of those crazy sayings, like "stop it or I'll give you something to cry about", or the world wide best parent-ism, "BECAUSE I SAID SO!")

Anyway, Cowboy just sat there with gigantic blue eyes and hem-hawed around, while Llama stuck her chin out in defiance. I separated the two since it was nap time anyway, and while tucking Llama in, I asked again, like the thunder-struck mother I was.

She replied, in the dramatic way only a 5 yr old Llama can, "But Mommy, I LOVE him!" Scarlett O'Hara hung her head in shame. Juliet wept with the beauty of it! Carey Grant & Deborah Kerr (from An Affair to Remember) gave a standing ovation. I almost cried.

Later, I called her father to report that our daughter may need intensive therapy, and that I needed a sedative; then, after all the children I care for were gone for the day, I approached the subject again... I know- I was asking for it...

I told Llama, with her father's sage advice, that she was too young to be kissing boys, that her kisses were for her family only and that God gave us our bodies as a very personal, important thing to take very good care of. She was not to kiss boys. Period.

To which she replied, "I will stop kissing boys if you stop bossing me around." On a side note, I think this was a typical attempt to test boundaries because she has been telling her brother and father that they aren't the boss of her lately, but the timing was very bad for her to choose to try this out on me...

To my credit, (yes, you may applaud here), I guess my blog about patience yesterday helped Llama stay alive with narry a sore bottom (ok, ONE swat) because I simply sat down and again explained to her that her parents would be her bosses for a long time because God gave her parents to care for her and help her to learn which things are good and ok, versus bad and rotten. This sent her off into a discussion of how scared she would be without us. So, the crisis was over....for this day.

Later,at church, my darling husband wanted the parents of the Cowboy o'Love to know that he had just bought himself a future bride. To much chuckling, we parents joked and made light of a childhood adventure... but this Mama is too freaked out to not be worried about a certain Llama in 10 years. For now, I am considering a ban of all princess movies, boys and perhaps even lips in the house. Check them at the door, please, so that I can survive. Thank you.

(where's the muzzle... super glue...key to the cage...)
sigh.

Old Age

If God loves me, and I know He does, I will be living to a ripe old age. I know this because of a poster I saw once, "Everything I ever needed to know I learned in Kindergarten". Sure, I learned to share, color in the lines, hands are for helping, not hurting; criss-cross apple sauce, hands in your lap.....but the poster left out some things...

There are 9 Fruit of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22-23, "²²But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.". Of these 9, I totally get joy, I have felt love, I have seen goodness, and I understand peace because I long for it...as for the rest, well, I have failed the test.

Patience- the one everyone jokes about, the one they say NOT to pray for, the thorn in my side, will be the reason I might live 834 years. I picked that number because I am thinking that by then I will be so wise, deaf, and blind that nothing could make me impatient! "I can't hear you!", I will say. "I can't see you!", I will say...or I will be so wise, "It takes 3 licks to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop", I will expound.

It's either live that long, or maybe I should do the hard thing and just buckle down, slow down and try to be more patient. But what fun is there in not breaking loose with a good old-fashioned fit? I mean, I feel so June Cleaver-ish when I get down on one knee and calmly discuss an issue with Llama. Sometimes I just want to stop my feet, point my finger and yell at her like she does me. What's wrong with that? Why can't I stick my tongue out and blow?

Sigh. I know, "it might feel good at the time, but you will regret it later". I know. I know. I know. Being the adult STINKS sometimes. OK, so maybe I do try to be patient more than I thought...Maybe I am helping my children grow into marvelous people by bending down on that knee. Poo. I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to....(to be continued)

Neverland

Having a teen and a pre-schooler certainly has its advantages. I get to make the older do things for the younger, like get her toothbrush ready, help her put her shoes on, etc. There is little to no sibling rivalry and, generally speaking, they are like two only children- both in their own world.

The disadvantage is that they rarely play together, are too far apart to confide in each other and there have been many melt-downs when Joe wouldn't let Llama come in his room, or play football with he and his friends.

There are rare moments, like last night, however, that are beautiful...

Llama came bouncing (as llamas do) into the kitchen to tell me she was going to take a bath with Joe. I asked her if Joe knew that, and she said, "yes".
Joe Cool- Mr. Video game, Mr. Sports, Mr. Check Out My Muscles, did indeed put on his bathing suit and jump in the tub with his sister.
For over 30 minutes, there was splashing, laughing, toy playing, shampoo filled hair sculpting and flooding of the bathroom floor.

As suddenly as it happened, when the water cooled, Joe was back in his room, door locked. Llama was back to dancing, and wiggling to her MP3 songs...

In two years, Joe Cool will be off to college and Llama will be in1st grade. He will move on to 'grown-up' things and she will be deep into maneuvering her way through the social network of public school. There will be no more baths together.

Right now Joe is in the exact middle of Teenager- he is mean, obnoxious and secretive. Other days he is argumentative, beligerant and sullen- and some days he is all of this combined. But then the sun seems to come out, he kisses me good morning, hugs his sister, does the dishes with no complaints. Some days, like today, we are given relief from the hostility that is a testosterone filled teen boy- and it is beautiful. It is a teasing glimpse into the wonderful, caring, tender, sweet man he will be. I cannot wait to meet that man.

My Peter Pan, my Pooh Bear, Daddy's Little Man sometimes returns to Neverland-To be a boy, not a care in the world. I miss him. And on days like today, I am glad he came out to play...
and so was Llama.

Remembering

This time of year, when the madness of Christmas is behind me, I start to think. As painful as that is, and as much smoke as it produces, I think. What, you may ask, could make me do such a foolish thing? My children, of course.

God knew what He was doing when He gave us two children not born of my womb, just our hearts. I cannot imagine what a nightmare I would be if I could hold pregnancy & delivery guilt stories over the heads of my children. God spared them the torture. (Of course, it gave me one less excuse for the post-baby fat I carry around).

Every year I write a letter to a birth mother. I write it because I promised to. In some way it gives me peace and in a twisted way it makes me feel less guilty. I have not received a reply yet, though I stamp each envelope with a clearly marked return address. I both hope for and fear a reply.

I agonize over pictures to be sure there isn't location information in them, and I fret over sending too many close up pictures because everyone knows you will run in to everybody you know at Walmart eventually. I am careful to only use first names and birth names. I don't know if my fears of being located before they are adults is rational or not, but it is real.

On the other hand, it is a joy to me to be able to look back on the last year of their lives! I try to imagine what I would want to know if I were waiting for this letter, and I write. It is harder because my children were not given to me by the birth parents choice, but I imagine that they still love them, and I tell them how much these children are loved.

I write, edit, cry, and laugh. I do it in private, my husband has never read the letters- I am a mother writing a woman who was, for a brief moment, a mother. Her wrongs do not take that biology away.

And so, this time of year, because I think- I am more withdrawn, less creative, less lively. But give me time...the smoke will clear. Then the craziness resumes.

In the Beginning...

After driving everyone crazy with multiple random postings on Facebook, a few suggested I start a blog. So,in an effort to not run all of my friends off,here we go...

As a stay-at-home mom of a teen and pre-schooler, wife and business co-owner, I stay as busy as any other average 21st century Domestic Goddess and Ruler of the World. To stay sane, I try to pay attention to the small funny details of this life that we all share.

I will attempt to post the escapades of our lives. I don't consider it particularly exciting, but every day takes us on a new ride. I like to find humor through my children, and they certainly provide plenty of fodder.

Life is an unexpected, wonderful adventure....I hope you will be able to relate, commiserate and laugh with me.

(It could be a scary thing for me to type what goes on in my head!)