What if...

Well, not really lunch, it's only 8 a.m. But with a postless week behind me and the holiday week ahead, I'm guessing I might as well hang a sign on this blog that indicates things will be a little slow for awhile.

I was tagged by Dawn and it's perfect timing; I needed a kick in the butt to get in the holiday mood. I love Christmas time but for some reason, I just wasn't ready for it yet. Can it really be December 15th already? Really?!? Didn't we just finish off the leftover Thanksgiving turkey? Big sigh. So here's hoping this holiday post gets me in the mood, and just for fun, I've decided to answer all questions, no matter what, with only one word...I call it "Turbo Tag."

1. Egg nog or Hot Chocolate? Chocolate

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Wrap

3. Colored lights or white? White

4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope

5. When do you put your decorations up? December-ish

6. Favorite holiday dish? David ;)

7. Favorite childhood memory? Tree

8. When/how did you learn the truth about Santa? Truth?!

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Depends

10. How do you decorate the tree? Nicely

11. Snow...love it or dread it? Love

12. Can you ice skate? NO!

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Sure

14. What is the most important thing about the holidays to you? gratitude

15. Favorite holiday dessert? undecided

16. Favorite Christmas tradition? PJs

17. What tops your tree? Nada

18. Do you prefer giving or receiving? Yes :)

19. Favorite Christmas song? this

20. Candy canes. Yum or yuck? Yum

21. What do you want for Christmas? this

22. Do you attend an annual Christmas party? no :(

23. Do you dress up for Christmas Eve or wear P.J.'s? huh?

24. Do you own a Santa hat? No

25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with? family

Dawn tagged just about everyone I know so I'll just encourage anyone reading who's up for it to join the fun! Merry Christmas everyone!

hey...listen up...just so you can corroborate my story...the Tooth Fairy does not come out in the rain, sad but true. Got it?

I knew I was forgetting something when I headed to bed last night. Ugh.

These are letters to Santa that I transcribed for Lily and Luke in December of 2005, when they were 3 1/2 and 2 1/2. Since David lived here in NC at the time, I mailed them to him, knowing they'd bring a smile to his face. I gave them the Dear Santa, and then they jumped in...

Dear Santa,

I have been good this year. Please bring me a little teddy bear with a bottle. And a four wheeler so I can ride it with my teddy bear. And I need a helmet, not a new one because I already have one. But it's lost so I do need a new one. Anyways Grandma ordered my four wheeler for Santa to bring me. I don't know what else to say.

Lily

It is so Lily to flat out tell Santa that she's been good, leaving no room for him to make that call. I also love how she acknowledges that Grandma has it covered. I guess she just thought of Santa as a glorified delivery man.


Dear Santa,

Happy Birthday. I want a big bicycle and a big motorcycle.
Happy Birthday. A four wheeler, a big motorcycle that goes fast like chtttt, chtttt, chtttt.

Luke

I'm sure Santa appreciated the birthday props Luke sent his way, especially since, thanks to Jesus, no one even asks about Santa's birthday. And in true boy fashion, Luke's letter comes complete with sound effects. What is it with boys and sound effects? As a guy himself, I'm sure Santa knew just what chttt, chttt, chttt meant.

Dear Luke,

First, let me say that I love you so much. More than words. With that said, I am writing this letter for you to read in the distant future, maybe 40 or 50 years from now. Perhaps you could read it the day you drop me off at the nursing home, so you can think of it every time you grimace at the thought of visiting me because the odor cocktail of pee-pee, bleach and cafeteria is more than you can stand. Please, keep this in mind:

On 12/7/08, you walked out of your room and said, "I puked." That was the understatement of the century. Son, you exploded. All over your bed, floor and train table. It.was.dripping. Your father could barely enter the room and because I didn't want to clean up after both of you, I sent him away and faced the aftermath of the vomit volcano myself.

I won't go into further detail about just how disgusting this clean up process was, but I will say that not a moment of the time I spent on my knees, scrubbing at the terracotta colored stains on my carpet, holding my breath to avoid the stench, gasping for air only when needed to stay conscious...not a moment of that time did I resent you. I felt sorry for your pale, shaky little body. I felt concerned that you might have a rough night ahead. I loved you as much in that moment as I do in the tender moments of your groggy morning smiles and bed time kisses.

Don't mistake this letter as an attempt to guilt you into caring for me personally as I age. Not at all. I am well aware that were you to do so, I would most likely end up the responsibility of your lovely wife. I pray for her often, and playing second fiddle to the big sister you think walks on water will be enough of a strain on your marriage, let's not add elder care. Go ahead, find me a good facility. But visit; visit often. Bring the kids. Stay awhile. Because after last night, you owe me one.

Your Loving Mother

Part Three has been sitting in my drafts folder for days, always feeling short of completion. In an effort to move on, this post started as a "sorry, there is no 3" and then turned into a Part Three all it's own. But really, it's just a moving on post; it's been good for me to dig deep and reflect on what has happened, what is happening and through it, gain renewed hope for what will happen.

As you can read in the previous posts, I'm not above admitting how hard this great adventure has been. But I hope somewhere in the last posts, on my blog in general, and in the way I live my life, it's obvious that I feel truly blessed to be living a great adventure at all. I am beyond thankful that God gripped our hearts and compelled us to dramatically change our lives for an opportunity to seek Him, know Him, and serve Him like never before.

In the past 3 years, I have laughed harder, sang louder, hugged tighter, worshipped higher, prayed lower, searched deeper, lived simpler, lingered longer, spoken truer, fought wiser, loved better. More. This has been a land of more. Not more money, not more possessions, not more power, not more fame...but more of everything that makes life worth living until He calls me home.

The greatest blessings have been the lessons, and the greatest lessons are usually learned in the struggles; the fire by which we are refined. And it's my whole-hearted prayer that I daily have the strength to say, I'll take it, Lord, whatever brings me closer to you, because You are enough. And on the days I don't think I have the strength to say it, it'll still be true.

Have you ever noticed that you can hear something your entire life, even study it for yourself, agree with it in your mind, but still struggle to know that you know it's true?

Enter Clayton King, a gifted evangelist, friend of our church, and guest speaker this past Sunday. I can't quote Clayton perfectly nor will I even attempt to express the impact of his "Who is Lord?" message, but I'd like to share with you what my heart heard. Something my ears have heard many times before, something my mind could agree with, but for some reason, on this day, the message reached my heart in a different way. Some of my "whys" could be answered by asking yet another question: Was Jesus enough for me? Is knowing more of Jesus than I ever have before enough to make all the struggle worthwhile? If He's indeed the only thing I have to show for this life, will I know and live like He's enough? Clayton said when you follow the Lord, the Lord may be all you get. Is He is enough?

I think so. maybe. yes. Yes. YES! He is enough. And the fog lifted.

I know that He's enough because I can say in all honesty that even on my darkest days I never wished that He hadn't called us here, because I know Him so much more. The first time Lily was sick and we didn't have health insurance, I was unsure of how we'd handle it, but I didn't wish to rewind to the past job. The first time I felt the sting of having my integrity questioned, I missed the comfort that comes from being surrounded only by those who love and trust unconditionally, but I didn't wish I'd never had the courage to step out of that comfort zone. The first holiday I called home and heard the laughter and noise of my family sitting down to a big meal, I'd have loved to be around that dinner table, but I didn't wish I'd never known the ache of missing home. The day Lily told me she wished I'd never made her leave her grandma, I ached for her to understand, but I didn't wish I hadn't changed her future. As I sat in the surgical waiting room while Luke was being operated on, I would have loved to be anywhere else but there, but I didn't wish he was covered in the "if it be His will" prayers of my past rather than the "it is His will" promises I now claim for my children. Last month when David called me and told me they were laying off and he wasn't sure if he was next, I prayed for this cup to pass, but I didn't wish he hadn't been courageous enough to take this job. Because God has always been enough, even when I didn't know or acknowledge or praise Him for being such, He was, and is, enough.

Living apart from almost every piece of my past has allowed me to embrace Him as the author of my future. Feeling like a lonely outsider enabled me to see what a perfect, trustworthy Friend I always have in Him. Starting over helped me recognize that His resources are limitless and His provision is sufficient. I could go on and on about the countless ways He has been able to better reveal Himself when the distractions of my comfort zone were removed. And man, oh man, for all the pieces of the puzzle I still don't have, I know I have Him. And He is enough. And the world needs to know that, and the world needs to see that, and maybe that's the picture of a faith-filled life that can reveal His glory to others more than I ever knew. I think it'd be so easy to say "God is good" if I was sitting here, entering year 3, and the picture I'd painted in my mind was the scene playing out in my life. But would I know Him the same? Maybe, maybe not. It's easy to praise Him when the bills are paid, and fridge is full, and the Christmas tree in the other room is surrounded by overflowing packages. It's easy to praise Him at times like those, but it's also very easy to forget to. But what about when those circumstances are not reality? Because they're certainly not mine today. Can I still say God is good? Heck yeah I can, and it's not so hard, and I certainly don't forget that I need Him because Lord knows, I need Him.

And the blessings I was waiting to see overflow in our lives because I trusted His Word and knew that He rewards those with earnestly seek Him? They've been there all along, and I feel purely silly for having to admit that I had limited my expectation of blessing to the things of this world that we can see and touch.

I promise I'm almost done...

As I truly began to write from an overflow of my heart as I reflected on today being the 3 year anniversary of the day David moved from FL to NC, this post grew, and grew, and grew. So I'm still writing it, but I'm also dividing it, and here's Part One. And I didn't have a title otherwise, so this is really a win-win: a title for me, a shorter post for you :)

I was so wrong about our move to NC. So.very.wrong. I thought I had it all figured out. And as difficult as it was, it really made perfect sense to me. (Maybe that should have been the first clue that my expectations were off track, the "makes sense to me" should have been a red flag!) His ways are not my ways.

But here's what I thought: I thought making the decision to follow God's leading, and move here to be a part of the team launching Elevation Church, was the hardest thing I would ever do. I can't begin to tell you how we agonized over the decision. From the highs of knowing we were on the threshold of seeing God move in our lives like never before, to the lows of knowing we were leaving behind broken hearts who may never understand our decision, it was an exhausting emotional rollercoaster. I was certain that making the decision, and then carrying it out, would be the hard part. Telling our family. Explaining it to the kids. Watching David drive off without us. Living apart for the month of December; David in NC, the kids and I in FL. Saying painful goodbyes to loved ones; avoiding painful goodbyes with loved ones. Then moving here, knowing nothing about the city other than the facts we'd "googled" 100 times. Finding a new grocery store, a new pediatrician, making new friends, unpacking boxes, introducing myself and my children every time I stepped in a room. I thought that was the hard part. But oh, the pay off...I knew the pay off. There would be inexplicable blessings as the result of pouring ourselves into God's work: building a life-changing, community-impacting church...and we'd bask in the joy of living the comfortable but passionate life we'd always dreamed. Just get through the tough stuff and then live in the contentment and blessing we'd never known. And that would show everyone...all the eyes waiting to see if we'd make it, or if we'd made a mistake...that God is good and comes through in a big way for those who step out on faith. It made perfect sense, and so I waited. And waited and waited. I really didn't have a timeline, but I was certain it'd be sooner than later. And so I waited some more.

Then slowly I began to realize that making the decision to obey was not the hardest part. Moving to a new city was not the hardest part. Being unknown was not the hardest part. Homesickness was not the hardest part. Deciding to obey and carrying out that decision was not at all the hardest part. Living in the obedience, continuing to obey daily despite the struggles we encountered...that was really the hardest part. The picture I'd imagined...the picture of the David successfully cruising into a profitable new career, Erin as the dedicated wife and stay-at-home mom, both of us passionately and purposefully serving family and church; Lily and Luke living nothing but a happy-go-lucky childhood. Surely that would be the picture that showed the world, our world, that our "foolish" faith in God paid off, and He really does have big plans for ordinary people. I knew it might not happen overnight, but before long, the initial struggles of starting over would fade into a life where the tough stuff was far outweighed by the good stuff. That makes sense, right? Because why would it be so hard? Why should it be so hard? What purpose would that serve? Why after 3 years would David's job security be so uncertain? Why after 3 years would I be less sure my purpose than when I first started this journey? Why would both of my kids struggle so much with school? Why would they battle so many new health issues here? Why? Surely no one would look upon that picture and say, "Wow, a life of faith is the life for me!" And isn't that the point? To live a life that magnetically draws others into knowing the amazing God we serve?


So where had we gone wrong?

...for a husband who's willing to peel potatoes, and looks darn sexy doing it (and thanks to the US Navy, he's got mad skillz with a vegetable peeler!)

...for kids who are healthy enough to run in and out, and in and out, and in and out, on this beautiful fall day (but I am over hearing that back door slam!)

...for a loving family, happy memories, and strong roots that run deep and stretch 600 miles

...for friends to gather around our dinner table, and laugh at crazy family stories, look at photo albums, laugh at more crazy family stories; making home feel a little more like "here" and a little less like "there"

...that another week has come and gone, and David still has a job

...that the head knock our kids just took wasn't more serious

...that the alarm clock will go unused for 3 more mornings

...for Philippians 1:6

It's not fair. It's just not fair. Is there any justice in this world? I mean, did it have to happen this time of year? As if the holidays aren't stressful enough. Why me? Why us? Why can't this one thing go my way? What have I done to deserve this? The should haves, the could haves, the what ifs...

Why, why, why?


Why do my kids still wake up at 6:30 a.m. when we have a day off?

I wonder if I smell like an elementary school cafeteria...

I wonder if I smell like an elementary school cafeteria and the scrambled eggs and toast I just cooked David and the kids for dinner...

I wonder if the perfume I put on masks elementary school cafeteria and scrambled eggs and toast...or makes it worse...

I wonder if the fresh coat of powder and mascara hide the fact that my makeup was first applied 13 hours earlier through half awake eyes...

I wonder if swapping out the loafers for the high-heeled boots made this outfit look less substitute teacher-ish and more dinner-meeting-ish...

I wonder if it's obvious that I'm putting more weight on my right foot than left foot because the heel of my left boot is broken...

I wonder if the food will be so delicious that I stop wishing I was at home on this cold, rainy night, curled up on the sofa eating scrambled eggs...

I wonder if the discussion will be engaging enough to drown out the "to do before Thanksgiving" list that keeps rolling through my brain...

I wonder if it's obvious on the outside that my daily "hat" changes are not seamless transitions on the inside...

I wonder if anyone else wonders the same...

I baked a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies this afternoon...some to share, some not to share (yum, yum). The first pan turned out nicely, those went on the "share" plate. The second pan ended in disaster, leaving a pretty slim "not share" plate. As I pulled the second batch from the oven, the pan slipped, and half the cookies slid into the bottom of the oven. The other half, still hot and gooey, smushed together.

I employ a "fly by the seat of my pants" methodology when it comes to disciplining my children. And David is as lost as I am in this regard. We often confer right in front of our misbehaving children, what do you think we should do?...I dunno, what do you think? Sounds effective, huh? I'm not advocating this style, nor am I saying I'm at all convinced it's working for me...I'm just callin' a spade a spade, I stink at the discipline stuff. I don't like to come up with appropriate punishments for the various crimes of childhood, and I don't like to follow through. I just don't like it. But who does, right?

I'll even be honest enough to admit that often the consequence of a misdeed, the punishment for the crime, is relative to my state of mind. Sad, I know. Not the model of consistency I'd planned on. Well-rested Mommy may meet an offense with loving but firm guidance and correction. Wits-end Mommy, (for instance, on evening 4 of Daddy being out of town), may meet the ungrateful attitude of a 6 year old with a DVD about the persecution of Christians and genocide in the Sudan.

I know, I know...I should probably write a how-to book. How To Guarantee Your Child Will Need Therapy

The Walmart toy catalog made it's way into our home yesterday via US mail. Yours, too?

Both kids flipped through the pages excitedly working on their Christmas lists, anxious to pass their wish lists onto the grandparents. Who needs Santa anyway?

Here's something that will not be on our list this year, but it made page 32 of the Walmart holiday toy book, which is probably an indicator that it's expected to be a hit this year.

Tini Puppini...the fashion pups. The self-proclaimed "diva" of stuffed dogs, with long brushable hair and stylish outfits to change. Kinda silly, but harmless, right? Until you hear the commercial...and I have. And so has Lily, and that's what has me fired up over this stupid toy. Makes my hair bristle, makes the Mama Bear in me want to fight.

In the commercial, one of the dogs says (and btw, the toys don't really make any noise, the commercial just has voice over)...anyway, one of the dogs says, I love my tail in these jeans!

Seriously? Did a child's toy just admire the way it's butt looks in a pair of jeans? A toy aimed at little girls? I don't know the exact demographic this toy is targeting, but a toy puppy with hair to brush and clothes to change certainly appeals to my 6 year old daughter. A 6 year old who has never considered how her bottom looks in a pair of pants. Nor should she. But thanks for planting that seed, Tini Puppini. You won't be getting my $24.97 this year.

Today has been one of those days. And it's not even 9 a.m. I didn't sleep well last night and when I opened my eyes for the 108th time and realized it was 4:45...5:26...5:48...I decided to just call it a "night" and get out of bed. But I managed to look on the bright side, at least we'd be on time. I even made silver dollar pancakes for the kids, their favorite, and a rarity on a week day morning.

But Luke was mess from the moment he opened his eyes. Even his hair stuck up more than usual. When I called him down to breakfast, he couldn't walk, his legs were just too tired. So he collapsed into a big pile of fuss until I carried him downstairs myself. He found his plate of warm, fresh pancakes waiting in his usual breakfast spot, but without mention of the yummy breakfast, he just whiiiiiinnned at me because he didn't have a drink. So of course, I made him a drink. Laid out clothes, packed lunches, checked book bags...still managing to keep a smile. But then there was a shoe issue. Then a who will take to school issue. Then a booster seat issue. And somewhere between silver dollar pancakes and we're-going-to-be-late-if-you-don't-get-your-butt-in-that-seat, I realized my morning had unraveled.

I am a big proponent of choosing ones battles wisely when it comes to parenting. I should not have even engaged in several of this mornings battles. But it should all boil down to one thing: I.Am.The.Mommy. I won't go into all the details of the wimpy parenting that allowed my morning to be hijacked by a grumpy 5 year old, but I will say if I could start the morning over, I would handle everything differently. And a 5 year old would be sitting in his classroom with blue shoes and a sore fanny.

When I asked Lily about her school's mock election, her reply was:

I voted for The-rock Bahamas.

Luke: Who are you voting for, Mommy?

Me: John McCain, and Sarah Palin is his running mate, that means she'd be Vice President.

Luke: What's a vice president?

Me: Kind of like an assistant to the President.

Luke: So, she'd take out his trash and stuff?

Me: No, more like, she'd help make important decisions.

Luke: So, if he wanted to go bowling and go swimming and couldn't decide which one to do, she would help him make that decision?

Me: Exactly.

The slogans, the nicknames, the bad jokes, the TV ads, blah...blah...blah. Tom Cruise may have made "Maverick" cool in the late 80s but John McCain has played that sucker out. And who'd have thought a word as common as "Change" or a slogan as simple as "Yes we can!" would begin to grate on my nerves like a "Head On, Apply Directly to the Forehead" commercial. I.am.over.it.

But you know what else? I've heard the term "afraid" more in this election than ever before. People speaking out for their candidate, remarking on "fear" if the other is elected. I am not afraid of either man. I don't believe either has the amount of power our country is currently trying to impose upon him.

He changes times and seasons, he sets up kings and deposes them...Daniel 2:21

He is still God, He is still sovereign. When the votes are counted and one man is declared the victor, God will not be on His throne saying, Oh, I didn't see that coming! There is a Kingdom calendar, and this next president fits into it one way or another, positive or negative. Our free will, our poor decisions, and the poor decisions of our leaders, can indeed take us unwanted places, but no man has the power to do or undo the plans of God. And I'm afraid in this election, our nation is trying to give a man that kind of power. The nation is looking for a hero, dare I say, a savior. That's what's scary, to see so many people looking to a man, one man, flawed no matter which side you lean toward, to "fix" our country. With that expectation, neither can be successful because neither has that kind of power.

The Lord foils the plans of the nations, He thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of His heart through all generations. Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He chose for his inheritance. Psalm 33:10-12

I don't know about you, but I want our nation to receive the Lord's blessing, I want that for my children's sake. That is why I do feel passionate about voting, and passionate about how I determined who to vote for. I once heard a Christian man I know say something to the effect of you can't select a president based on moral issues alone. Hmmm. Really? Because that's exactly where I draw my line in the sand. Should I base my decision on taxes? Or health care? Or where we can find oil? Really? I know those things are very important, trust me, I'm feeling the pinch of our economic troubles. I don't want to lose my health insurance or have more money taken out of my paycheck or pay anymore for gas than I already am, but in the end, it's money, and maybe comfort, but what about life? Start there. We need officials who value what God values. So I start with life. When presented with two candidates with equal value of life, unborn life, then I would move on to taxes, health care, etc. If not, I stop. I'm done. Because how one values the life of the innocent tells me what I need to know most, it tells me how they value the power of God. And that's how I'll vote. To many people, even Christians, abortion is a secondary issue. Like icing. If all else is agreeable, and a leader is Pro-Life, oh, that's just icing on the cake. Not so for me. Pro-Life first. I could argue this point all day, but here's what I believe it all comes down to:

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. Psalm 139:13

Life begins at conception. And I don't mean a biological division of cells, but the masterful creation of life by God. He is intimately involved in what goes unseen to human eyes. When we as a country decide it is okay to devalue this process and interrupt the masterpiece of God, we will not find His favor. End of story. Abortion is not only ending an innocent life, it is an act of disregard to the power, purpose and plans of God. That is dangerous. That is why I will vote McCain/Palin. Do I think they can really fix what ails America? Nope. But life-valuing leadership is a place to start.

6:18 a.m. feels a lot like 7:18 a.m. if you're 5 years old and don't pay attention to what a silly ol' clock says anyway...and apparently 7:18 a.m. is prime time for jumping on mommy's bed with a flashlight in hand, singing "I like to move it, move it..."

I don't know about you, but if the red, glowing numbers on my alarm clock say 6:18 a.m., it is indeed 6:18 a.m., no matter what time this time was yesterday. And there are only 2 days a week that 6:18 a.m. is sleep-able, today, Sunday, being one of them. So I'm feeling a little robbed.

Thanks for nothing, "fall-back."

I began an exciting new endeavor today: substitute teaching. Wooo-hooo!

I completed my orientation last week (and by orientation, I mean, filled out paperwork...you'd probably be shocked at how little information subs are given before they're thrown to the wolves!), and my name officially entered the call-out system late yesterday. The guy who orientated? us encouraged everyone to be patient, he said it could take quite awhile before we had an opportunity to work, after all, there are over 1300 subs in this county's system.

Got my first job at 6:45 a.m. today. Somehow, when he said be patient and don't be discouraged by the wait, I thought the "wait" he was referring to would be longer than 12 hours. I'm glad I was wrong, I was so anxious to get started! Crazy, I know. I accepted the job at 6:45, still in my pjs, but was out the door with both kids by 7:18. But my hair was dirty. From now on I will go to bed with fresh hair so that doesn't happen again.

I have a feeling substituting will give me some great blog-fodder. I've been a little sparse lately, but nothing like an ever-changing stream of public school children to shake life up a bit!

I've already accepted a job to be an art teacher on Friday. Yep, that's gonna be a good one...

I was tagged by Steph to do this fun blog activity...go to your fourth photo file, grab the fourth picture and blog about it.

Dyed my hair black today.

Don't tell me to shut up. I totally did.

Well, Gina did. I'm home-hair-color ignorant, and in her words, she's not new to this rodeo.

But before you (and by you, I mean my Mom) get too distressed, keep in mind David was in the house 10 minutes before he noticed, and even then it was after the kids brought it to his attention...so it must not be too dramatic. Not at all goth. I think my hair was darker than I realized so "Purest Black" was just a short jump away, and my "new" hair matches my natural eyebrows perfectly.

This may or may not have anything to do with the 3 gray hairs I've been eye-balling all week.

And no, David is not in the dog house over the not noticing issue, 'cause I'm still mooney-eyed over some really sweet stuff he said to me yesterday. (I like to bank the good stuff, not the bad.) He's totally been paying attention as Pastor preached from Song of Solomon. And since he hears each sermon 4 times, it's a darn good thing I'm seeing some application!

Have you ever noticed how great your hair fixes the day you're scheduled to get a new hair cut? I may lose the guys on this one. You get so sick of your same old look, decide to take the plunge, call the salon, make an appointment and promise yourself you will not walk out with just a trim. Then it happens. Maybe the day of, maybe the day before...you wash your hair, blow dry it out and it lays beautifully, fixes like it hasn't fixed in weeks. Your husband gives a compliment, your friends ask what you've done differently...and you begin to second guess whether or not you're really ready for a change. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe you should stick with your long locks, or your bob or your pixie, your perm or your color for just one more season.

I'm not really thinking about hair tonight. That analogy just works for my life right now. Something important in my life just didn't "fit" anymore, and I knew it, actually for months. Maybe I'd outgrown it...or maybe it had outgrown me. Finally made the tough call, even put it in black and white so I couldn't talk myself out of it. But just like the hair that suddenly looks fresh and vibrant again, I began to second guess my decision. Maybe it would be okay for just one more season. Transitions can be so hard to navigate. What now? doesn't seem to be any easier to answer than What if?

But I am keenly aware that my What now? leaves room for God's What's next.

And He doesn't punctuate with a question mark.

I hate back-blogging. You know...going a couple of weeks without blogging and then trying to play catch up?! Just stresses me out. I'm gonna bullet point a few key thoughts, then move on!

- I had a conference with Lily's teacher. I had to bite my lip to hold back tears as the teacher talked about Lily's recent improvements in writing and her mother-hen personality. Lily's teacher really gets her. Last year's teacher, though very nice, never seemed to know my Lily. Every conversation we had felt like it could have been about anyone's child. But as this teacher spoke about my Lily, I knew it was my girl she was thinking of and talking about, and that was the best feeling in the world. Trusting your child to a stranger is one thing, feeling like that stranger wants to stay a stranger is another...but seeing a stranger become a friend to your child...well, it's just much, much better.

- I really dislike dead batteries...I need two AAAs for my wireless keyboard, a 9V for Luke's RC truck... but I especially dislike the kind that cost $75 and are necessary for cranking an SUV. I do however get a good laugh when I think of me and Sewtrendi trying to figure out how to use jumper cables. That's probably worth the money right there. One day I'll be a "do it all" kind of chick, but I have a long way to go!

- As I've been catching up on blogs, I think I've read everything I would ever say about Catalyst on the blogs of others. I have been sufficiently "beat to the punch" so I'll just say what I haven't read on any other blog, which is how great it was to eat hotel lounge take out with my hubby in a plush, white king size bed at 10 o'clock at night while watching SNL reruns. Probably not the most spiritual Catalyst take away, but definitely in my top 5 moments from the conference trip. And it certainly deserves repeating what many others have said, our Pastor did an amazing job at Catalyst. The only thing the overwhelmingly powerful experience lacked was tissues. Clapping through an emotional standing ovation while wiping teary eyes and a snotty nose on one's own sweater is not as dignified a moment as you might think.

- Watching my parents over-indulge Lily and Luke with Wal-Mart goodies, dollar store junk, souvenir-shop stuffed animals and sweets of all sorts never gets old. Maybe it would if we still lived just 2 houses away from them, but 600 miles later, in the brief visits we get, I love it almost as much as the kids do. Sure I have to play the part of the stern parent and limit late-night donuts to just a half, but I love the mutual enjoyment those 4 characters find in one another. And speaking of spoiled, my parents drove 8 hours to babysit for us so we could attend Catalyst. I'd feel really guilty if it wasn't for the way my parents somehow make us feel like we're doing them a favor by pawning those crazy kids off on them. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Wow, has it really been so long since my last post? #11 has been up for 11 days!? This isn't a real post either, it's just a pseudo-post to help out my 4 faithful readers who are tired of seeing that last post pop up.

We have filled the past 11 days with at least a month's worth of "stuff" so it may take me awhile to unpack and blog again. And by unpack, I mean my brain and my luggage...and I hate unpacking. More so the luggage than the brain, but that can be an unpleasant task too.

While passing a fast food restaurant that recently caught fire, I seized the opportunity to talk to the kids about fire safety, fire prevention and the heroism of fire fighters. Yes, yes, I know...that's just darn good parenting. Luke was very curious about what causes fire and while I talked through the many accidental causes of fire, I also told them that some fires are intentionally set. I said, Setting a fire on purpose is called arson.


There was silence in the backseat for a few seconds...then Lil spoke up.


It's also called (dramatic pause)....sin.

Luke and I were cuddled up in David's recliner reading a book about honey bees. Couldn't we all learn a little more about honey bees? I can't quote it verbatim, but the page about worker bees said something along the lines of: Worker bees are busy all day and rest only at night. Worker bees keep the hive clean. They take care of the queen bee and the eggs. Worker bees blah, blah, worker bees, blah, blah...

As I rattled off several simple sentences about the very industrious worker bees, Lily, who was in the kitchen, yelled out, Mom, that sounds like you.

Ya think? Am I a worker bee?, I replied.

Well, not a bee...a worker mommy!, she giggled back at me.

My typical m.o. would be to let mommy guilt wreck that moment, Oh no! The kids think I'm too busy, I don't give them enough attention. They'll be headed off to college before I know it. I've got to do some holiday baking with them this Christmas or they'll end up in therapy.

But instead, I just let it rest on me with ease, as my precious 6 year old's way of saying, She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Proverbs 31:17 & 27.

Thanks for noticing, my Lily, my love.

Yesterday I decided to wrestle with a beast I've been ignoring for too long: medical bills. On our desk sits a pile of them. I should probably be embarrassed to casually admit that. Ah, well. Some date back to our very first months in NC when job changes left gaps in insurance coverage (wouldn't you know, kids get sick no matter how you lecture them about eligible dates of service), and the most recent bills, the heavy hitters...Lily's ER visit for a late night asthma attack and Luke's surgery. Uggghhh. Between the larger hospital and physician bills, and the smaller radiology services, pathology services and who-knows-what-else-services, the stack is pretty intimidating...and my checkbook less than accommodating. But ya know, it is what it is, just a stack of bills. Praise God for modern medicine, praise God for clean hospitals and health care facilities, praise God for well trained physicians, praise God for jobs with health insurance. And I don't meant those praises to sound cliche...seriously, praise be to God. With all that's wrong with America and our health care systems, I'm thankful to live in this country. Amen.

Our largest paper monster is Luke's surgical bill from the hospital. Even with insurance. Ouch. But as I stare at it, all itemized and formal, I can't help but recognize that today, in black & white, 7/16/2008 is just a "Date of Service" on a Statement of Benefits. And though my "Subscriber Responsibility" is far more than I care to pay, 7/16 is just another bill to be paid. That's all. And that's wonderful. Because a few months ago 7/16 felt like a weight on my chest and a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart too big to ever fade away to the size of a piece of paper on my desk. But there it is, in convenient envelope size. No more knot in my stomach. No more lump in my throat to choke back tears.

The days and hours leading up to Luke's surgery were so hard. So. Hard. And the time he was away from us, under the care and scalpel of strangers, whew. Tough. But the moment his limp, anesthetized little body was placed in my arms in recovery, it all went away. And the hurdles ahead seem so small, so manageable, even the bill. 'Cause a bill is just a bill. And my children are priceless. And my husband who paced a hole in the carpet of the waiting room, priceless. And my mom who traveled all this way to help, priceless. And the family and friends who cried with me, called in those early morning hours, texted through the surgery, prayed heartfelt prayers and reassured this anxious mommy, priceless. And the God who is the same God in sickness and in health, wow, priceless hardly seems sufficient. Immeasurable.

The day I heard Luke might need surgery, a treasured friend offered a prayer of shalom on Luke's behalf. Shalom, nothing missing, nothing broken. Later, when it was confirmed that indeed something was broken, and after surgery, something would be missing, I felt so disillusioned with the idea of wholeness. But today, with a healthy, happy kindergartner, oblivious to the fact that he's any different from anyone else, I am very aware that wholeness is of God, and no scalpel or word ending in "-ectomy" can take that away. And 7/16 is now just a bill on my desk.

Saturday our little foursome dined at Red Robin for the first time. Mmmm, good burger and bottomless fries. A little pricey for my budget (I hate spending more than 2.99 for a kids meal, so 4.59 for a meal that will only be picked at is hard to swallow). Regardless, I had a revelation while waiting for my meal...there are two kinds of people in the world, those who look at the front of the coloring book and those who don't. Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about, a few may need explanation, if so, you're probably the latter.

For reasons I can't explain, David and I were coloring on the kids' menu coloring pages. Red, the restaurant mascot was involved in a variety of sporting events on the mini-book. I carefully reviewed the full-color front of the book and began coloring him accordingly. I do this with all coloring books. If there is a specific character, I need him/her to be exact. As I flipped back and forth to carefully review Red's jersey, shoes and socks, I noticed David was coloring in Luke's book. To my dismay, he was not reviewing the front of the book. He was casually coloring Red's white-with-yellow-trim jersey green. With a grimace I said, Please tell me you'll at least color Red, the red robin, red. Nope. A few seconds later I hesitantly peered over to find a purple bird. But only the arm. And he was done. Colored the shirt and only one arm, incorrectly at that, and then stopped. Just the thought makes me cringe.

There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who want need to be right, follow the rules, by the book, to the letter. Those who find comfort in control...and those who don't. Maybe they color Daphne's outfit red, even though every episode of Scooby Doo shows it to be purple. Or maybe they color Boots the Monkey brown, as most monkeys would be, although a quick glance at Nick Jr. would show him to be pastel. Or maybe they color the Red Robin mascot, named Red, purple...and then don't even finish.

I'm not making a judgment call as to which is better. In fact, I wish I was more easy going, less rigid, more go-with-the-flow...I wish only the big things in life captured my full attention to detail and the little things, like kid's menus, were approached with a free, haphazard spirit. I wish, but it ain't happening...cause there are two kinds of people in the world, and I'm a look at the front of the coloring book kind of gal.

Today I feel like I'm living in Winne the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It's windy, it's rainy and my house is full of characters!
I guess I'd have to be Pooh. I do love to know where my next meal is coming from, I'm the roundest in the house and my heart is probably bigger than my brain.

Luke would have to be Piglet. Not only is he the smallest in our clan, he's rather worrisome. Once he spent an entire rainy evening in my lap so he could hold onto my neck in case of flood. He decided since he doesn't know how to swim, he'd better stay close to a floatation device. And yes, as Pooh would do for Piglet, I reassured him that I could indeed hold both of us up if it flooded.

Lily is our Rabbit. Knows it all. Her way is the right way, the best way, the only way that makes any good sense and she'll tell you if you ask, but she'd really just as soon be left alone. She doesn't eat vegetables but she could probably tell you how to have the best garden in town.

Can you guess what role David has played in our blustery day? Yep. He's our Eeyore. Just hanging around the house. Not much to say. Ate his breakfast standing over the stove because the straight-from-the-microwave bowl was too hot to carry to the table. Wait for it to cool?... nah. Use a pot holder?...nah. Solutions galore, sure. But he'd rather just stand at the stove.



Stay dry on this rainy, blustery day. I think I'm off to hibernate!

Our dynamic duo! (Looks like I have two sons, but don't tell Lily I said that!)

Luke's in the center, looking very skillful...but my favorite part of this picture is the guy in gray (to the right) who's taking his team mate to the "gun show" when he should be playing some defense!

...unless by "misery" one is referring to David and his ongoing battle with a severe poison ivy reaction. In that case, misery wants to be left the heck alone. He's red, swollen, and itchy...uncomfortable, sleep-deprived, and irritable.

I can empathize. Not because I too just battled hell's ivy (my rash was peanuts compared to his) but because I was a sufferer of PUPPPs (can I get an amen Desi and Amy?). Add the total discomfort of a 9 month pregnant body to the worse itch you can imagine and you've got PUPPPs. But back to David, my empathy only goes so far. I can't fix it for him, and honestly, I think he's tired of me trying.

Ugggghhhh. We may never go outdoors again.

Luke is having a much better week this week, I hope the tearful days are behind us. He even used the word "awesome" to describe a game he'd played in gym yesterday, even though he later denied using such a positive word in association with school. A few minutes ago, he gave me this little nugget...

Luke: I was at the home living center and George was at blocks and I wanted to be with George so I skipped a center. Now George and I will be together at center time for the rest of our lives!

Me: Is it okay to skip a center? What did your teacher say?

Luke: She doesn't even know! (chuckling as if he'd pulled off the crime of the century)

Me: Well, as tough as your first two weeks were, I bet she'd just be happy to know you're happy.

...and jinxed my husband, shoulda knocked on wood I guess. Just a few days after I posted that he didn't get poison ivy, he ended up with a much more severe case than my own. I haven't had much experience with poison ivy, but his arms look worse than most of the pictures I've found online. You know you've got it bad when you beat out "google images." Yuck. One night we even searched the closet for a long sleeve shirt that he could wear to bed because his arms were grossing me out a little a lot and it was putting a damper on our romance ;) ...is that TMI? He's had a steroid shot and is on day 3 of a prednisolone dosepack, and he's looking a little better but not as much as we'd hoped. I feel so bad for him, and he's probably as sick of hearing me ask "Are you okay?" as he is of being sore and itchy. I still have some annoying lingering patches myself but I try to limit my complaining because he has certainly one-upped me in the poison ivy department. He's missed a day of work, he's not sleeping well at night...he's pretty miserable, and I can't stand that I can't fix it for him. I am fixer - and this is really testing me. I would seriously consider asking a few friends of faith to lay hands on the poor fellow if I weren't pretty sure that no one would really want to touch him. :(

So maybe this will only be meaningful to 7 other women, but oh, how meaningful it will be...

14 minutes for a chicken wrap - "pee"bodies - sharks? - rough water - 10 cents for ice - Mamaw has a bluetooth - no likker - convention on the beach - Poi-son Iiiiivy, Poi-son Iiiiiiiiiii-vy - what's a concrete? - ice cream spoon in the garbage - lean in and be bendy - not too scared to sleep downstairs - prophecy on the bathroom walls - 2012 - "nationwide" power outage - Is it 10am yet? - Britts - out of ink? - so flexible you could tie me in a knot - cockeyed - Mustafa - "I c'n do da butterfly" - shagging on the street corner - mozarella stick divided by four - You have a brother!? - Was that him on that bike?!? - jaywalking - why are there so many cops? - 3 times a week ;) - van door in the backseat - read another question - time to kick your neighbor - "we need to stop" - 10/4 good buddy - Gaarrrannger - "That's a really nice mop"

I'm still laughing friends! And ya know there are a few other words I could throw in (a couple new ones I learned!) but I think I better stop to keep the blog's G-rating. :) And Teri, if you really took notes, you better burn them!

Hiatus - a period of time where one is on a break.

I've been on a little hiatus. From my blog. My email. My kitchen. My laundry. My kids. My husband. My home. My responsibility. My life.

I've never done a "girls" weekend getaway before, so months ago when chatter began about a beach weekend in September, the thought was certainly appealing but it seemed too good to be true. I've gone away for conferences and retreats and the like, but never a no schedule, no agenda, no note taking, just-for-the-heck-of-it girls weekend. Wow. All I can say is...can I have another? And soon. I truly can't remember the last time I laughed so hard and often, the last time I ate 7 consecutive meals without cutting up someone else's food, the last time I was awake until the wee morning hours with no emergency room involved, the last time I played in the ocean like a kid without watching for a kid. Good times. Good times. It would take way too long to even scratch the surface of why this getaway was so great, why it's timing was perfect for me, why I almost didn't make it, why I did make it, why the dynamics were so healthy, why I love the other women so much...I'll just sum it up by saying, it was really fun. Real. Fun.

What if...I went an entire month without talking about my cute hubby?

Just wouldn't be me.

Two things that make him extra special this month...

First, he grew a goatee for me. Blinked and missed it? Yep, it's gone. He kept it about a week. I really liked it but he couldn't get used to the feel of it. David grows facial hair like he's been drinking Dr. Growmore's Magic Hair Elixir. He started the goatee one day and by the next afternoon it was needing a trim (almost!). Fast. But really thick and coarse and he just couldn't get into it. Saturday night he said he'd keep it one more day. I think he celebrated the end of the Daniel fast by shaving it off before dinner Sunday night...so he wouldn't lose any of the good food to his face!

Second, he's helping coach Lily's soccer team. Soccer is one of the few sports that David hasn't played before and knows very little about. That's what makes this so great. I love that he's willing to step out of his comfort zone for the love of a 6 year old girl! She was so excited to have him out on the field with her and you could tell he brought the "dad" experience to the team. The lead coach knows the necessary skills but because she's so young the kids weren't taking her direction too seriously. David was able to keep them in line. I think we're in for a fun season!

So D, for giving the goatee a try and joining a first grade soccer team...you're the man, and a clean shaven man at that!

Yesterday my suspicions were confirmed and the rash on my forearms that I've been calling "the funk" is indeed poison ivy. I didn't know I'd handled ivy of any sort, much less the poisonous one, I still don't know what the plant looks like and I'm not sure how David worked twice as hard and twice as long in the yard and didn't manage to get in to it, but with all my unanswered questions, the itch remains. I've been treating it with cortisone cream but after waking up this morning to itch gone wild, I made run to Walgreen's for some good ol' calamine lotion. Ahhhhhhh. Instant relief! As I type this, I'm feeling fine, and if it weren't for the pink gunk all over my arms, I'd forget all about it. The label says to apply only three to four times a day, but surely that's too conservative. If I could afford enough bottles, I'd fill my tub and soak in it...
Cal gon amine, take me away!

Making new friends is something I hadn't had much experience with until I moved here. In Florida, all my friends were old friends, people I'd known for what felt like my whole life, and I know that at one time all my old friends were new friends but there's comfort in not remembering when that was. Making new friends has proven to be more complex than I thought. Relationships take time, investment, and emotional resources that I'm not always prepared to give. But like most worthwhile causes, true friendship is worth the effort.

With that said, I've been spending time this morning thanking God for some of the new friends He's brought into my life over the past couple weeks, like Ezekiel and Honey. Ezekiel and I don't see rye to eye on some things, he can be so dry, but he's certainly added some substance to my life. Now Honey and I, well, we just stick together. She is so sweet and makes the absolute best cup of all natural decaf tea. I love to spend my mornings and evenings with her, very comforting. I've been ashamed to admit that although I've known Honey for awhile, I never thought she had much of a place in my life. I'd really underestimated her ability to bee so versatile.

In friendships, it's really tough when you feel like the third wheel, but just imagine my pleasant surprise when I found out how well Ezekiel and Honey get along with one another. I'm not jealous at all, in fact I love how they've warmed up to each other!

I have a feeling that in a few days, a rift may form between me and my new friends. Next week, I'll have some old friends coming back into my life and that can put a strain on new relationships. I doubt Ezekiel and my old friend Sara Lee will have much in common. He's a little too dry for her taste. But Honey, I'll be keeping her close. We may not see each other quite as often when Juan Valdez is back in town, but I know she'll always be there for me when I need her.

You may remember my Fightin' Mad post from last month. If you missed it, I vented a little about my frustration towards someone who had disrespected my husband. Today, those same emotions came rushing back to the surface when Luke told me that a classmate had called him an ugly name. My anger was short-lived, I found myself laughing instead. Here's why:

Lily: Just show her to me tomorrow Luke. I'll walk you to class, you point her out, and I'll beat her up.

(Don't worry, I immediately interrupted and spoke against the threatened violence!)

Lily: Okay, well, you still show her to me...I'd like to have a little talk with her.

Luke: No Lil. I want Mom to go have a talk with her, not you.

Lily: Don't worry Luke. I can handle it. I know some biiiiiig words.

I'm not exactly sure what "big" words she's talking about. I'm a little afraid to ask. Knowing her, they may be the 4-letter kind. Regardless, I find it extremely endearing that she's so protective of him. I'm glad a shy guy like Luke has a not-so-shy big sister like Lily. I have a feeling as close as they are, they'll fight one another's battles a time or two in years to come. And it's always nice to know someone's got your back.

Other readers may be over the back to school pics, but I know the grandparents can't get enough so here's another. This one is from Tuesday, Luke's official first day of kindergarten. The pic is deceiving, the smile quickly faded, but we survived. And each day will get better, I hope.

Dear Lily,

Your dad and I owe you an apology. We really wish we could do it (or in this case, not do it) all over again. In hindsight, it's hard to even imagine that we had such a lapse in jugdment. Just proof that everyone, even grown-ups, make mistakes.

When I walked into the house Saturday, after several hours of early morning yard work, and announced that we had to go for a ride with Dad, I was really surprised at your over-the-top reaction. I believed your tears and dramatics were the result of being up too late the night before, and awake to early the morning of...one of the pitfalls of sleepovers. Now I accept that your reaction was indeed most likely the result of our destination. The county landfill. The dump. Daddy and I made you ride to the dump.with.a.friend.

It didn't really dawn on me until we were there, sitting in the truck, noses plugged, gagging and dry heaving, eyes watering from the stench...what had we done to you? Had we really brought your friend to the dump,and not just a little satelitte site...but the big county landfill? How we could be so foolish? Are we trying to ruin your social life at an early age?

To add insult to injury, your dad and I looked like we belonged on the cover of Dirty Digest. My yard working clothes covered in debris and soaked in dew. Your dad's clothes, covered in dirt and soaked in dew and sweat. Uggghhh. Not our finest moment.

I have to say you and Abbs really made the best of it. Once the initial shock wore off, your attitude improved and I think we managed to even make the trip fun. If that's possible. And we certainly got a good laugh on the way home as Daddy and I tried to put ourselves in your shoes and imagine how we would have felt if our parents had done the same. In fact, it's pretty easy for me to imagine, it totally sounds like something your Pa would have done.

I can't promise that your daddy and I won't embarrass you in the future. In fact, I can almost promise you we will. But I assure you, we will never again coincide our once a year landfill trip with a sleepover.

We owe you one baby. Love ya.

Once upon a decade ago, my older sister and I got a little bit hooked on the soap opera Days of Our Lives. We would crack up at how off-the-chart ridiculous the subject matter was and how overly dramatic John Black's eyebrow expressions were...but we tuned in every day at 1pm never the less. That was just a short-lived season of NBC soaps...growing up CBS soaps were on in the house. To this day, when I go to Florida and sit in my Grandma's living room, I can take about 3 minutes and catch up on what Reva and Josh have been up to in the past decade. Everything changes, but oh, how everything stays the same.

You don't have to watch soaps much to know that when a leading lady throws her arms around the neck of her ex-husband's-evil-but-newly-reformed-twin brother and says, "Life is so wonderful, nothing can ever come between us now!" that trouble is on the horizon (conveniently scheduled during sweeps). It's Rule #1 in soap-land, the minute you utter a joyful expression...it's about to hit the fan.

So I approach this post with a little hesitancy, I'm about to break a big soap-world rule. But since I've been married to the same man for 10 years, both of my kids have the same daddy and David doesn't have an evil twin, I'm optimistic that we'll be fine.

Okay, so here goes...we are having a great week. I know by tomorrow morning I may start a post with the line "I spoke too soon..." but I'm going to throw caution to the wind and stop right now to take a moment to be thankful. Lily has made such a smooth transition to first grade, she's going to bed and waking up easily and she's even letting me fix her hair each day with no complaints (that's a BIG deal!). Sure it's only been 4 days, but 4 days are better than nothing, so pardon me while I do a happy dance! And Luke was so excited when he came home from school Tuesday and can't wait to go back...again with the happy dance. With both kids out of the house Tuesday, I worked around the house like I was getting paid, finished several projects that I'd been putting off and had things in great order when everyone returned home, that's an awesome feeling and it's freed me up to be more playful when the kids are home.

Last but not least, today is day 11 of the Daniel Fast, we've halfway through and it's going really well. I don't want to sound like the biggest cheese puff, but I've seriously felt a renewed sense of joy in preparing meals for my family and out of necessity I've been creative and resourceful, and it's very rewarding. As I've fasted and prayed and focused on things other than myself, God has truly done a work in my own heart and for that I'm thankful. Dinner times at our house had gotten pretty ugly over the past few months. The kids fussing, David calling to say he'd be working late and me staring into the freezer wondering what I should cook. But with the fast, meals require more thought and advance prep so I'm not waiting until the most stressful time of the day to start working on dinner, and it's been good kick in the butt for me.


Load all of this into a week that's topped off by a long holiday weekend, and I am one happy camper.

Once a week, Lily goes to the allergist's office to get "build up shots," one in each arm. The shots are small doses of the things she's reactive to, allergic, in hopes that she will build a tolerance. She's doing great, we've learned to live with and appreciate the value of those small doses.

I'd never heard of staggered entry until I moved to NC. Here, kindergartners go only one day of the first week of school. They're introduced to the teachers, the school, the lunchroom, and given general assessments before being divided into classes.

I see staggered entry as my small dose. My build up. My opportunity to develop a tolerance for something I have a strong reaction to: my baby growing up. I'm allergic: a saline solution oozes from my eyes and I toss and turn at night. I'll admit that this year has been better than last. Last summer I began fretting about Lily starting kindergarten the day she finished preschool. This summer, more often than not, I've felt very excited for Luke. Excited he's going to get to ride the bus with the big kids. Excited he'll have opportunities to blossom without me or Lily right on top of him. Excited he'll get to play with boys his own age and do rowdy, smelly boy things. But let's not get too carried away with the excitment. This is my last baby, and he's entering school. School, an entity with enough influence to rival my own, and one day, it's influence will surpass my own.

So back to small doses. Thank you Lord for small doses. Build up #1: Lily started first grade today. Build up #2: Drop Luke off on his staggered entry day (tomorrow morning). Build up #3: Luke spends almost a full day at school and rides bus home. Build up #4: Luke spends rest of week home (allowing me to better adjust to getting up at 6 a.m. without tossing and turning at night thinking about kindergarten). Build up #5: Long weekend to recover. Build up #6: Next Tuesday, Luke's official first day of school, but Lily's second week so she'll be pro. Final test: Getting both kids to "big school" and coming home to an empty house.

You may be surprised to hear this, but the little girl in the picture, the 6 year old who started first grade today...well, I just gave birth to her yesterday. I swear, it was just yesterday.

Dear Aunt Lisa,

We have been begging our mommy to put Katelyn and Elly's picture on her internet. (That's what we call her blog.) Last time we talked, you asked us to show you a picture and trust us, we wanted to follow through right away, but that mom of ours is a little slow these days. "In a minute" or "right after I finish this" are usually what we hear. Moms, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

By the way, hope you have a great birthday today! We heard you had to work. Bummer. Birthdays should be holidays. Wish we were there to eat cake with you, bet you have lots of candles to blow out. Mom said you're as old as our dad. We think that is pretty old. But you don't have gray whiskers like he does, that's good.

Eat a big piece of cake for us, and for our mom and dad because they're eating all kinds of healthy food lately, so they'd probably love to share your cake! We heard Mom say, Thanks a lot Daniel, as she put tofu in the grocery cart today, but it doesn't really sound like she's very thankful at all. Go figure.

Happy Birthday! We love and miss you,
Lily, Luke, Katelyn and Elly

Today is our last day of summer vacation. Sure we have the weekend ahead, but we'd have the weekend anyway, so I consider today, Friday, to be our finale. And last night was Lily's Open House, so it's official, summer is over. Most consider Labor Day to be the unofficial end of summer, I consider the elementary school Open House to carry that weight. Time to wash up the new school clothes and add lunch-packing items to the grocery list. We are now on the other side of summer vacation, the "where did it go?" side.

If I had to sum it up in one word, I'd say "surgery." 2008, the summer of surgery. Luke had surgery, Ella had surgery, Lauren had surgery, Alana had surgery. Am I forgetting anyone? My friends and I did our part to ensure pediatric surgeons across the city don't feel the pinch of an economic recession. But along with the sarcasm, I'll say in all sincerity, the other side of summer brings 4 healthier children. Praise the Lord.

The other side of summer: Lily is blonder, tanner and taller. She's mouthy to her mama but more affectionate with her daddy. She's dreading the Monday alarm clock but walked around the school last night like she owns the place, so I know she's ready. Luke has a fresh batch of freckles and is as tan as a fair-skinned red head can hope to be. He's also more mischievous these days, which is trying his best gal's patience (me). But he's also conquered his fear of haircuts, whew. I've only heard one "I don't want to go to kindergarten" this entire summer, and, God is good, we ran into one of his preschool friends yesterday and found out she'll be at the same school (crossing my fingers for same class)! It's amazing how much a familiar face can mean, even if it is a girl.

Big sigh as I say goodbye to late nights and sleeping in. Bigger sigh as I say (through gritted-teeth) hello to lunch boxes and the alarm clock.

Once upon a time, I was a voracious reader. High school, college. I didn't read text books, sometimes didn't even buy them...but popular fiction, ahhh, that I could read. I remember snuggling up in my big chair with a John Grisham novel and finishing it in one sitting, into the wee morning hours. Then I had kids. For the life of me, I can not finish a book anymore. I can start one, oh, I can give it the ol' college try....but I can't seem to finish to save my life.

All that to say, I started yet another new book a few days ago. It's called The Prayer That Changes Everything ~ The Hidden Power of Praising God, by Stormie Omartian. I have several of her books on my shelf, but again, have struggled to finish any of them. But what I find is that even the few chapters I make it through provide pieces to the puzzle, connect the dots for something God is doing in my life, so I keep reading for a season and then for whatever reason, stop reading for a season. This book and accompanying prayer journal were given to me by my mom as we headed out the door from Florida on our last visit. We always make a catch-all bag as we leave (this time it was a box) ...for the toothbrush that was left in the bathroom, the hair barrette on the nightstand, the shoe pushed under the sofa, the DVD left in the player...all those little things that don't make it into the suitcases...and this book made it into my catch all box. I'm a little ashamed to admit that for almost 2 months, that box has been sitting in my dining room, untouched. Until Tuesday morning, when for no explainable reason other than the compelling of the Spirit, I suddenly thought of the book, rummaged through the box, and started reading. Again, I think different things are meaningful for different seasons, and for this season, this book is really connecting some dots for me. And I'm being intentional about applying it to my life...and I'm seeing results.

Yesterday's reading brought me to this list that I just had to share. It's simple, we've probably all heard something similar before, but it spoke volumes to me (especially #9) so I wanted to share...

Ten Things God Never Says:

1. Oops!
2. What have I done?
3. How did I let that happen?
4. I made a mistake.
5. It was an accident.
6. I don't know what to do.
7. I'm afraid of what will happen now.
8. I can do better than this.
9. What do you think I should do?
10. Why didn't I think of that.

When Lily stepped outside to let the dog out this morning, she said, Oooohhhh, it's cold out here.
It's 65° outside.

Luke wore a hoodie to the store late yesterday, said it was "cool" outside.
It was about 76°.

You can take a kid out of Florida, but you can't take Florida out of the kid!

And speaking of Florida kids...one of our very favorites has a birthday today, Happy 15th Cody! Wish we were there to celebrate with you, we miss you so much! Look for a card in the mail sometime next month, I just can't get my act together in the card mailing department :)

It's 11:15 pm...playing a little Webkinz, watching some Olympic swimming...with Lily here beside me. She's having trouble sleeping and said, I just don't know what's wrong with my body. It won't let me sleep.

Hmmm. Maybe that's the Mountain Dew talking.

Before my name hits the "Bad Mother" ballot, let me say that Mountain Dew at dinner and late nights playing games on the computer are not the norm around here (at least not for the kids!). But before ya know it, summer will be over, the alarm will be set for a quarter past way-too-early, and Lily and I won't have the luxury of hanging out on the sofa watching some late night TV.

She just found an episode of "Family Matters" (think Steve Urkel) on Nick at Nite and said, I think this is a new one. Funny.

The laundry is swishing and swooshing in the background...

The dishwasher is unloaded, reloaded and the sink is empty...

The smell of Pine-Sol is in the air, the sticky tea spill a distant memory...

The coffee is in the pot, ready to pour...

The blog has a new post...

and it's not even 9am!

If I can keep this pace, I may have the hardwoods waxed, broken toilet fixed, rose bushes trimmed, school shopping finished, toenails painted, emails returned and dinner cooked before 10am!

Happy Monday everyone.

My mother, and most avid "What if" reader, was having trouble reading my posts since I'd changed the format. I think the faux-textured background and smaller font were the culprits. Her last words to me on the subject were, "Don't change it just for me," but I'm pretty sure my mama cares more about what I have to say than most, so why not change it for her? I played around with the template a little to get the posts off the textured background...and I upped the size of the font, since, in her own words, she's blind as a bat.

Happy reading, Mama.

So I expected my little angry post to be a form of therapy for me, you know, get it off my chest. And it worked, just venting about my feelings helped me work through them. Thanks for listening.

Now what I didn't expect is to get so many friends up in arms. From texts that included censored words (like so: *#$! ), to suggestions of looking the guy's address up and going to his house(seriously!?), my female friends have rallied for my cause (i.e. my husband's honor) in an unexpected way. Mild-mannered mommies turn angry mob. What are we gonna do...give him one heck of a time out?

Thanks gals. But simmer down now!

Okay. Can I live in the flesh for just a minute? I need to vent. I will indeed repent a little later, and I'll mean it, really. But not just yet.

Someone said something rude about my husband. And I am fightin' mad. I don't really even know the guy. But I have met him and I do remember what he looks like so he better hope our paths don't cross, 'cause I'm mean. Just ask my kids.

Honestly, it wasn't a horrible comment, not really even an attack on him as a person. Just an unwarranted, ignorant, rooted in this dude's own insecurity kind of comment. But it makes me so mad because it's David. My David. Do you know my David? He isn't ever rude to others, nor does he critique others based on his own insecurities, so being the recipient of such is unjust. I can be a little catty at times. I've been known to rub people the wrong way. There are certainly aspects of my personality that I don't even like, so I can only imagine others feel the same. But David is, well, he's David. He's not perfect, but he's Pretty.Darn.Great. And I take offense to him being offended.

There you have it. My 3 minute rant. Read it quickly because chances are when David reads this post he'll request I remove it, which I will submissively do. I may even remove it myself when I've cooled down. But in the mean time, I'm a little perturbed and this is my platform. Sorry. Check back later for silliness and sunshine :)

And if I could have this guy's audience for just a minute, I'd say: Shame on you, (insert name here...and not his name, but an ugly name...maybe even a wash-my-mouth-out-with-soap name)...you're not worthy to even speak David's name, much less do so in a derogatory way. And watch your back. I may have to forgive you and move on, but David is where he is and got what he got because of the Lord's favor, and I wouldn't want to be the one running my mouth about that. I'm just sayin'...that's dangerous territory. Locusts and frogs, fella. Locusts and frogs.

Today I attended a baby shower for the sweet Joye girls, who will be home before Ferris and Wade can say "We need a nap!" It was fun to watch Ferris open each cute onesie, footie-sleeper, blankie and bootie...not once but twice! But Ferris wasn't the only one receiving a gift today...I came home to a clean house! Wow! Remember that Trashed post from early in the week? Well, the week flew by and many of the messes never seemed to disappear. With the kids at home all day, it's hard enough to keep up with the new messes much less tackle the existing ones. It seemed like we could only move the piles to new locations. I planned to tackle the biggest disaster, our bedroom (which becomes the catch-all), this afternoon...but I came home from the baby shower to an already CLEAN house! I felt like I was being showered with gifts...gifts of shoes in shoe baskets, clothes in hampers, dishes unloaded, and a neat and tidy bedroom. Wow, what a gift! Thanks David!

There it was on my cell phone this morning, in black and white: AUG 1

Really? Is it August already? I was well aware that July was flying by, but still, AUG 1 really took me by surprise. This is the month Lily goes to first grade. This is the month Luke starts kindergarten. This is the month I have two school age children and no more babies at home. This is the month the alarm goes back to a 6 a.m. wake up. This is the month bedtime goes back to 7:30 p.m. giving David and the kids a grand total of ONE HOUR together each day. This is the month that "hurry up!" and "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" become the morning melody.
Big sigh.

Any chance I could start a petition for August to be on hold for a few weeks?

Anyone?

Bummer.

Our house is trashed. A total mess. It often happens on the weekends, at least on the really good weekends. Bed sheet forts...cozy, made for movie-watching palates...6 wet towels from 6 wet kids...Saturday's play clothes...Sunday's church shoes...all over the place.

Upside: If a burglar enters the premises, he'll turn around and leave, thinking we've already been hit.

Downside: Someone has got to clean this place up and all signs point to it being me.

Have you heard of Webkinz? They're sort of the Beanie Babies of the next generation. Just a little stuffed toy, overpriced of course, with an attached "secret" code that grants access to a web wonderland. The kids' Mimi sent them a little package a couple weeks ago, a card with some spending money came along with. Since indoor activities were on our agenda while Luke recovered, I finally took Lily to get her first Webkinz. She'd be asking for quite awhile, long before I had a clue what a Webkinz was. Luke wasn't with us when we shopped for her perfect pet, but I picked him up one too, just in case. The Black Lab for Lily, the Elephant for Luke. Katelyn and Elly, respectively.

Big hit! They both love their Webkinz. The cute little stuffed animals go everywhere we go, and the web world of games and activities keeps them entertained. In monitored intervals of course!

But there is one problem. My problem.

You're probably thinking the "Web" in Webkinz is for the "web," the internet. Nope. It's for web, as in a trap...tangled up, ensnared. I'm hooked. I sneak on all the time, enter the little world, and play, play, play. I turn the volume really low so the kids won't hear me and ask for a turn. I mine and sell rare gems, I spin the Wheel of Wow with bated breath, I play Quizzy's Word Challenge and Cash Cow until my eyes glaze over. I shop. With Kinz Cash.

It's sick, I know. I actually found myself standing in the store holding a Lil' Kinz the other day, on the verge of purchasing it so I could have my own animal, my own access code, my own "room" to decorate, and wouldn't have to run all my "purchases" by a tight fisted 5 and 6 year old.

I feel David's confused and slightly annoyed stare burning into my back as I play in the evenings while he watches TV. He knows me well enough to know I'll get bored soon so I don't think he's too concerned. But I'm not bored yet...so I wonder why I'm wasting time here!

Summer has been quite a roller coaster. I'm sure everyone can relate in their own way. Remember that silly, naive post several weeks ago about taking it easy, smooth sailing on the horizon? Whatever. We had about two peaceful weeks. Then the 5 year old check up that sent everything into a spiral. We rushed the kids to Florida to maximize their vacation time before Luke had surgery, then we went for a week, then we came home and brought my mom along, then Luke had surgery, now Luke's recovering wonderfully, and Grandma June has returned home. But then the fish died. In the past few weeks, if I've said it once, I've said it 100 times: when things get back to normal...

We'll get the kids back on track with a regular bedtime, when things get back to normal. Their behavior will improve, when things get back to normal. My patience will be renewed, when things get back to normal. I'll get caught up on my Bible study, have more regular quiet times, reconnect with David, catch up with friends, get those "to do list" items checked off, be more consistent in my leadership roles, cook dinner more often...when things get back to normal.

I think I've figured out, if I keep waiting for "normal," we're in trouble.

Tuesday, after dropping my mom off at the airport, Luke and I stopped by David's office on our drive home. As we were leaving, I said something like, Well, with vacation over, surgery behind us, and Mom gone, I guess life will just go back to normal.

What's that? he said back to me.

Hmmmm. Good question. What is that? And if I don't even know what it looks like, why am I waiting for it, and how will I know when it's happened?