What if...

I feel totally blah when it comes to blogging. Just hasn't been my thing this week, or last week, maybe even the week before that. I'll assume it's just a passing dry spell, and won't throw in the blogging towel just yet. This has been a busy week, my parents are in town and we're having a great time with our Pa and Grandma. Lily and Luke are on Spring Break, so combine no alarm clock with a visit from my parents and we are in heaven! Lily also celebrated her 6th birthday this week, I started a post all about her and just can't get it together, so take my word for it: Lily had a nice little birthday...she's truly a blessing and brings our entire family great joy. She's silly and sassy and smart and creative. I'm so crazy about her. As I tucked her and Luke in on Wednesday (Lily's birthday) Luke said, Mom, when God was picking a girl and boy for you, I sure am glad he picked me and Lil'. Oh, me too buddy, me too.

In other Lily news, she had her first set of allergy shots today. The girl took it like a man....just stood there straight and tall while a shot was given in both arms. Didn't even wince or cry. I was SO PROUD of her! She said it's because she's 6 now.

Wow, has it been a week since my last post? Lily is 6 today, but before I put up a birthday post, I need to catch up by saying "Happy Easter!" Our Easter was far from traditional (Golden Arches, anyone?) but I had to let myself off the hook for not having a traditional Easter and just relish the fact that I have a beautiful family, great friends, an amazing church, and a RISEN SAVIOR.

Warning: this will not be the most uplifting or spiritually accurate thing you read today (at least I hope not)!

I started my day off right. Had my cup of coffee and somewhat unhurried quiet time: read scripture, did a day in my Bible study, and confidently prayed for God to speak to me about some very specific issues. I even emailed my husband a spiritually uplifting email. I then filled the next several hours with "godly" things: volunteered at the church office, kept a friend's children for her to help a friend in need...you know, good stuff. Well, it's eight-ish and I haven't heard a thing from God. And at about 5pm things just went south. So I the end this day less sure than I started it, even though I convinced myself that getting the right start would ensure the smooth finish. That's probably where my trouble started, I know better than to approach God with such an if-then attitude. I know better and yet I find myself doing it all the time...quiet time first and I'm certain to catch more green lights, quiet time first and the mail will yield an unexpected surprise, quiet time first and I won't yell at my kids or husband, quiet time first...and maybe just maybe I'll be a fraction of the girl I think I'm supposed to be.

But no luck today. I've settled into a strong "my turn" pity party to round out the evening, which is my least favorite hat to wear...when is it my turn to buy a really great Easter outfit, when is it my turn to have a day off, when is it my turn to do something really fun and spontaneous, when is it my turn to be anything but dependable ol' Erin with a hole in her pants??...which really stinks because I have very few pants and don't have the luxury to run out and buy new ones...but now I feel guilty for being upset about a dumb pair of pants when some people don't have any pants at all...there are pant-less people in the world, folks...so why am I complaining?

And I fed my entire family sandwiches for dinner...in front of the TV, Sponge Bob no less (and he says words like stupid, butt and idiot). Seriously.

Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket?

Moral of the story? Ha. There isn't one. And I'm not in any deep, dark place (just visiting), so don't worry Mama :). I'm just wishing that there was a formula for the perfect day because I've always been good at formulas. Abstract crap, like life, that's what messes me up. Okay, so my blog won't be winning the "Moms That Love Jesus and Cook Real Dinners" award but I plan to sleep a little better because of it. And tomorrow is a new day.

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

We had an amazing day at Elevation yesterday. Mr. Cliff Barrows was our special guest. I tried for over an hour last night to write a post worthy of the day: hearing his testimony of faith and obedience, his love for the Word - he can't see to read it anymore so he just holds it, he can feel it's power and has hidden it's words in his heart (oh, my soul!), then being led by Mr. Barrows in the hymn Just As I Am, hearing his powerful voice pray over our church and Pastor, watching Pastor Steven humbly interact with this great man of faith and knowing that David was blessed with the opportunity to be in proximity to this all morning was so overwhelming. (I cried the entire service I sat through, even before anyone started speaking...I know everyone around me thought I was crazy or in crisis, but I was just in awe). I don't have adequate writing abilities to express how awesome it was so I encourage all of you to go here and check it out yourself, One Generation to Another. (You can access it from the main page, or click Sermons, under Media, for a little larger view).

I think the only thing Irish about me is my name, but in the spirit of the holiday (and shameless name vanity), Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I know a little about a lot. Let me rephrase that: I know a little something about a lot of things, but not a lot about any one thing. Sad but true. But it's never really been a problem, in fact, it works for me. Want to discuss the weather? I can at least mention my mom's obsession with it, and I'm a Florida weather expert: it's hot. Want to chat about sports, not my bag, but I know enough about a few teams, a few sports, to at least appear interested. Talk about history? Okay, not a history buff, but I can remember enough tidbits to adequately converse. And so on and so on. However, as a mom, I'm in deep trouble. I do not know enough to satisfy my children, and it's getting harder by the day to fake it. Lately, stingrays and hovercrafts are the topic of discussion. I know about one sentence worth about either. That's about all anyone else would be interested in, however it's not enough to satisfy the curiosity of a 4 year old boy. Do they...can it...how about...why is...what happens when????...I DON'T KNOW! Today I deferred to my dad. I said Luke, Pa will be here in less than 2 weeks, ask him about stingrays...ask him about hovercrafts. He's lived a long time and he's done a lot of stuff. Luke's response...Huh, he doesn't look that old. How about you ask him and let me know what he says, but don't tell him I'm the one who wants to know. Deal.

Pa, brush up on stingrays and hovercrafts. Don't tell Luke I blogged about it.

Without trying to draw parallels to my spiritual life as to appear much deeper than I am, my Bible study has recently been discussing pride and humility. I believe God gave me children to help keep me humble. I am frequently reminded I'm not as smart as I think I am, my home cooked dinners are often described as gross, I'm regularly told my butt is big, and tonight Lily told me she wasn't sure if I'm pretty. All this and I have no idea how deep a stingray can swim.

Somewhere in the world of electrical supply sales my husband is taking a little break at his desk, checking my blog, and getting a sick-to-his-stomach feeling when he reads my post title and fears what inappropriate personal stories I might be about to share. Relax man. I'm in a bit of a blog dryspell so I thought I'd just share this link. (I don't know how to put You Tube stuff on my blog, and I want people to actively choose to listen as it's probably PG13). I will leave out all the details as to why this is so funny, as if these men were spying on us. It is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time. Gina (who is currently on a "business" trip!) introduced me these guys on Sunday and I thought I might pee my pants. Enjoy, if your bladder control is up to par.

Picture the scene: a beautiful, warm (almost spring) day. Six neighborhood children playing in the cul-de-sac, enjoying the sunshine. A sound breaks through their noisy play...the unmistakable sound of the ice cream truck. Four children dash into their houses to beg for ice cream money. Two look up at me (being the only parent that actually stays outside with her children) and wait for my inevitable response: Sorry guys, Mommy doesn't have any cash. I should have that printed on a T shirt. In these days of direct deposit and debit cards, the feeling of cold, hard cash in my hand is rare. And the ice cream truck doesn't take debit...yet. Normally, I don't feel much guilt about saying "not today" but today actually felt like an ice cream truck kind of day...and every other kid was getting some :(


As the truck approached, I made a mad dash into my bedroom and emptied David's change glass onto the bed. I was scrambling and Luke ran behind me screaming frantically as if his life depended on it, "Hurry, Mom, hurry! We're gonna miss it, we're gonna miss it!" The tinkling music in the background might as well have been the Final Jeopardy theme, counting down. I thought my kids would have to share (and like it!) but I was able to come up with 2.65 in silver money. Each child was able to pick his/her own $1 selection: an ice cream sandwich for Lily, a fruit popsicle for Luke. Crisis averted. David doesn't need that change for the soda machine anyway.

Can I say prayers for a dog, Mommy?

I was swapping clothes from the washer to dryer last night when I noticed a string on a pair of Luke's underwear. I thought to myself, I need to cut that right now so it doesn't tangle in the dryer and looked up to see a tiny pair of green scissors in my battery basket. Perfect. I also knew there were two more pair in my sewing case. Two in the office pen basket, two pair of kids' safety scissors, one pair in the upstairs bathroom, a Pampered Chef pair in the kitchen and two pair in my Explorer, NOT counting the two pair in my Quest supplies bin (also in my Explorer)! We have enough scissors in our home that were we to be attacked by hairy monsters, I could arm all of us with a pair in each hand. The strange thing is, I don't think I have EVER walked in a store and purchased a pair of scissors. Where do they come from? A. They are breeding (I do have baby scissors!) or B. My house is where the scissors all of you can never find when you need them have come to live.

Also last night, David and I "pinky" swore to give up soda. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but last I checked we were neither nine years old nor living in an episode of Full House so why we evoked the power of the pinky swear on this one occasion is beyond me. However, I am hoping that it helps me remember my vow. My biggest issue will not be craving a diet coke, my biggest issue will be remembering I'm not supposed to drink one. Odds are high that at this afternoon's Lead Team meeting I will be half way through a diet coke before it occurs to me I shouldn't be drinking one. I'm hoping the random pinky swear has cemented it in my mind...that, and the fact I am praying for the Holy Spirit to remind me.

I am not athletic (shocking, I know). I throw like a girl; my hand-eye coordination and gross motor skills leave much to be desired. Running takes my full concentration so attempting to catch, kick, or throw while running is a joke...and I hate to sweat.

Along with my inability to effectively play sports, I find watching them on TV to be boooooorrrrrring. I also find myself steaming mad when pondering the gazillions of dollars professional athletes make while firemen, cops and teachers are grossly underpaid. I get the driving forces of visibility, endorsements, demand, etc...but it still stinks. So wrap all that up in a package and you get one un-sporty chick.

(I do feel the need to add this clarifier: my distaste of sports does not apply to kickball. How can you not love a sport that all ages can play together from Cody in diapers to Lisa in college?? First base at Grandma's barn post, second: a shirt or wet beach towel, third...whatever's around, maybe a life preserver off the boat, maybe a foil pan from a recent BBQ...and don't forget to watch out for the rocks around the fire pit as you round home plate! Okay, so I do like my kick ball. I would probably even watch kick ball on TV, except I'm sure they'd jack it up by adding rules and not including "ghost-man" players.)

But back to not liking sports...if I had to pick my favorite sport, it would be spectating. Last night I added professional basketball (Go Bobcats!) to my list of fun spectating experiences, and I was reminded that I really love going to live sporting events. I love the noise, the random people, the overpriced concessions, the head-band wearing preschoolers who obviously know more about the sport than I...love it, love it, love it. I must say it's even more enjoyable when someone willing to talk during the game is sitting right beside. (David actually likes to watch the game, what's up with that?) Just clap when everyone claps, groan when everyone groans, pick up on the catchy hand clapping tunes...love it!

Big thanks to Phillip and Anita for broadening my horizons by taking us to the game. You guys made great spectating partners, you'd be first round draft picks on my professional spectating team. How can you not pick teammates that'll cross lanes of traffic when the Hot Now sign is on at Krispy Kreme? Sure, that has nothing to do with the sport, but that's the beauty of spectating, the sport is somewhat irrelevant (at least in my world). Good conversation and warm donuts, now that makes any sport worth my time!

David: I love you, Lily.

Lily:I luuuvvvv you too, Bald Head.

(She'd never used this term of endearment(?) before, that's what made it so funny...it was so unexpected and spontaneous. Even "Bald Head" couldn't help but laugh!)