What if...

I am in bit of a blogging slump. I really don't know what to say, but...

Gotta blame it on something.

Blame it on the rain, yeah, yeah.

Cuz the rain don't mind.


Not only is that my way of saying sorry for not blogging, it's a little shout out to my Carolina Beach van-mates...

Luke saw a mint sitting on the counter yesterday and said, Maaaaaama? Can I have this watery mouth mint? (And he put great emphasis on the watery mouth). After asking him to repeat, which he did, saying "watery mouth" once again, I said, I think you mean mouth-watering, and yes you can, how could I say no to that impressive request! I don't know what tickles me more, that he said "watery mouth" or that he's added mouth watering (or his version of) to his vocabulary in the first place.

Lily and I decided to do a little party planning today. She'll be seven next month. Seven. (Brief pause while I let that soak in.)

Okay, seven. She grabbed a notebook and pen, I grabbed my Family Fun magazine for ideas, and we somehow ended up in my master bedroom closet, which is inside our master bath. I'm not sure how it happened, we didn't start in the bathroom and I certainly don't have a luxuriously large closet that doubles as a sitting room. But there we were, crowded by hanging clothes, scrunched together on the small amount of carpet not covered by shoes. It turned out to be a great place to keep her attention, no distraction of TV, Luke, or 1,000 other random things that make it difficult to carry on a conversation with a not quite seven year old girl. We'll have to do it again sometime.

You're a great swimmer. Sure, it's been awhile since you've been in the pool, but you were always a great swimmer. Born with an aptitude, a God given gift to take to the water like a fish. So you take a job as a lifeguard, at the kiddie pool...a good way to get your feet wet again. And you eagerly go to the kiddie pool, expecting to see happy little swimmers just needing a watchful eye, a little extra encouragement, a "push" to jump, but not dive, into the deeper side of the pool. And some kids in the kiddie pool are just what you expected, but others are in way over their heads...and this is just the kiddie pool.

Sometimes you can't help but look up, and see the big pool. There are lots of lifeguards around the big pool; some are sharp, strong swimmers like you. But some are not. And there are a lot of kids. Too many kids. Some of them never learned to swim in the kiddie pool. Some are new to the pool and never received a basic lesson before they were thrown into the big pool. And so some...well, some are just drowning. Right before your eyes. You see it, and wonder if anyone else does. But you can't leave the kiddie pool, you have a responsibility to your swimmers there...don't you? From your post at the kiddie pool, it seems that some of the lifeguards are trying to save them. But some are not. Some turn away. Some throw the struggling swimmers a brick. Some say they'll hop right into the pool once the paperwork is done. And so some of the swimmers go under, and there are just.too.many.to.save.

And it keeps you up at night. And then it wakes you up at 4 a.m. And you've shed more tears than you ever knew a job at the kiddie pool would require of you. Because you'd save every one of them if you could. The one who can't understand the instructions being yelled to him because he came from a foreign pool, and returns to it each night. He's sharp, could be a great swimmer, but just needed more time before he was thrown into the big pool. But there is never.enough.time. And there may be a struggling swimmer who can hear what the lifeguard is saying but his body has grown in ways his mind has not, and the lifeguards are deceived by size. They use really big words or hold up signs for him to read, but it doesn't make any sense to the big, little man who's drowning; so confusion leads to fear, which leads to frustration, which leads to misbehavior, and then no one wants to save him anymore. But you do. And the pretty swimmer is drowning, too. The so sweet, so quiet, barely makes a splash swimmer. It's easy to overlook swimmers like her when there are so many noisy ones in the big pool. But you notice.

And there are other swimmers who just need a good night's sleep. And others that need a decent meal. Some just need a little more practice. And some need the right equipment, they've jumped into the pool in heavy boots because they don't know any better. There are some swimmers just needing to hear a voice above the others yelling, "Good job!" And some are just in over their heads, and need to get back to the kiddie pool, and start with the basics of holding onto the wall and kicking.

And you wonder how they got into the big pool in the first place. Were their parents just not watching? Were the lifeguards too distracted by the overcrowded pool, and the mound of lifeguard paperwork, to notice them tiptoeing dangerously close to the big pool? You know some just fell in by accident. While others were pushed.

So what do you do when you're the lifeguard at the kiddie pool? And it's already too crowded with little swimmers, but you wish they'd send you more. You wish you could scoop a few, or many, out of the big pool and start over with the basics. You wish someone would ask for your help because you know the right answer, afterall, you were born to swim. So what do you do?

-Treats and surprises (including handmade dresses)
-Crafts involving glue, google eyes and glitter
-Valentine party complete with decorations, candy and balloons
-Spaghetti dinner, followed by Red Velvet cake for a "Red" themed menu
-Staying up late for movies, popcorn and ice cream
-Date night for the mommy and daddy
-Bowling (on a school day!)
-Dollar Store "shopping spree"
-Silly String (and willing victim)

Throw in a park trip, lunch at the new Taco Bell, two pizza meals, laundry basket balloon games, riding "horses" and playing hooky from school for an extra day of fun, and you're left with a serious case of an "Aunt Brenda Buzz."

I'm just warning all of you future house guests, unless you come with a pony, you'll probably want to let the buzz wear off. Aunt Brenda is a tough act to follow.

Happy Valentimes Day, Mommy, Luke said in his sleepy voice at 7:01 a.m. as he stood by our bed. Then he crawled across me to give David the same sweet greeting. After he wiggled his way in between us, I said to David, If I'm going to be disturbed at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, I can't think of a better way. Valentimes. I just love the way he says Valentimes. Lily used to say it the same way. And it started as Balentimes. But now he says the "V" and I know before long, he'll get the "n." Because time passes quickly, and with time, everything changes. Even Valentimes.

There was the Valentime 13 years ago, when David first told me he was in love with me.

And the Valentime 11 years ago, when as an engaged couple, we ate our dinner on the floor of David's newly leased apartment which would became "our" place 3 months later.

It wasn't too many years before the Valentime I was 7 1/2 months pregnant.

Followed by the Valentime I was 7 1/2 months pregnant.

And the next Valentime, with a not quite 1 year old, and a not quite 2 year old, and a not quite for any romance.

There was the first Valentime we bought those little cards and each of them scribbled indiscriminately on the fronts, backs, and envelopes with crayons...and then I proudly passed them out to friends and loved ones.

Then there was one Valentime when David took Lily shopping for my gift, and she picked out diamonds. That's my girl.

And the Valentime 3 years ago, in a two bedroom apartment, with two toddlers that each got two boxes of those little cards (that's a lot of Valentine cards), and rather than pass them out to friends, they played "mail" with each other for days. We had thin, perforated cards all over the place...and found them stashed in every drawer and cushion for weeks to follow.

And the next Valentime, when we filled out cards for preschool classmates and Lily could write her own name on each card.

Then the Valentime to follow, with two class lists and two school parties and two little hands tightly gripping markers and printing their own names.

It won't be long and the Valentime will come when Valentine has long since been pronounced correctly, and I'll no longer be the girl Luke can't wait to see. And Lily be the one getting diamonds. And there will be no one in the house filling out small, perforated cards. It'll just be me and my Valentine, and I will have lost count of how many years it's been since the Valentime he first told me he loved me. And maybe we'll celebrate our many years of Valentimes together by sleeping past 7 a.m.

I've started several new posts in the past week but can't seem to stay in one stream of thought long enough to finish up the drafts I've started about Elevation's 3rd Anniversary, the story of my good-Sharpie-fortune, or my lament about the time problem we're having in the evenings (as in, not enough of it!). Those posts will have to stay in the drafts folder for at least another day, but I'm desperate to have something other than my ode to the Electric Pencil Sharpener pop up when my page loads, so I'll just quickly share this ahhhhh moment.

Everyday, several times a day, Luke tells me, "I love you more than you love me," to which I always respond, "Impossible!" It's kind of our thing. I don't love the way it sounds when he says it in public because I'm afraid others may think my child doesn't feel loved, but I do think it sounds a little better than "I love you more than God" which was his long time phrase (in his attempt to describe his love for me as bigger than the biggest thing he knows). But somewhere between my "Impossible" and the brief explanation I always give about the depth of a mother's love being incomprehensible, he reached his hand up to my face, stared at me with those big blue eyes and said, "One day, you'll understand how much I love you."

Isn't that supposed to be my line?

Electric pencil sharpener. Cashed in some bonus points for this beauty. Love it! It's not so much the speed of which it gives me a perfect point, it's more the fact that we don't lose it. The "other" sharpener was very small, very easy to lose, and very easy for the kids to make a mess with. It was a thorn in my side. Key word, was.

House guests. In 2008, our out-of-town visitors were few and far between. I love house guests, so the fact that it's only February and we're counting down to visit #2 makes me a happy girl. A couple weeks ago, my sweet, pregnant cousin and her husband stopped by, and next weekend David's aunt is coming to spend the weekend. May 2009 be the "Year of the Houseguest." Okay, there you have it. That's as formal an invitation as you'll get, come see us!

Working girl. I finally started the new job yesterday. It's flexible, pretty laid back, and temporary. That's my kind of job. Oh, and the best part, it requires no child care arrangements. That's what makes a good job great.

Elevation's 3rd Anniversary. More on that to come!

Warm weather. Beautiful, warm weather. Short sleeves and flip flops warm weather. But the warm weather gives me a little spring fever. Now I can't wait for spring to get here and facing the next cold spurt will be hard to do.

"New" furniture. The spring-ish weather has me in the mood for "new." So using some paint that's been in our garage for awhile and the ounce of creativity mustered if David and I squeeze our heads together, we repainted our TV stand, from light wood to black with distressed edges. It's not complete yet, but it's looking good, and proves that change doesn't have to be costly. We already had 2 cans of spray paint, so our investment has been around $5 for a little more paint and a trigger handle. But it feels like having a brand new piece of furniture. I'm already brainstorming other "new" looks for the house. There are websites galore (usually blogs) of ingenious, crafty women who can turn a blah room into a magazine cover on a dime. Very helpful for ladies like me who are decor-deficient.

So that's what's going on around here. What are you up to?

When I was a kid we played a pool game called Alligator Bait. For all of you deprived people who aren't familiar with the game, there is an "Alligator," which is traditionally known as being "it." The alligator/it person stood on the diving board and after yelling Alligator Bait (which typically came out like Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr Bait!), would dive off the board and attempt to catch the "bait" before they could reach the other side of the pool. At the start of each round, the "bait" would line up along the wall of the shallow end of the pool and listen intently for the key phrase. But you had to listen carefully 'cuz that sneaky, silly gator would often yell the wrong word, just to see who could be caught off guard. Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr Bake! made ya jump...heeheehee... Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr Bang!...gotcha again, heeheehee. Being the impatient person I am, this annoyed me to no end, but of course when the tables were turned and I was "it," I played the same way. That is if I didn't call a time out for a bathroom break, or just quit all together, which is what I often did when I was "it." But cut me some slack, I was the youngest of the 9 grandkids and often played with my brother's older friends too, so if I was "it" I was stuck being "it" for awhile.

I feel like I'm caught in a adult game of Alligator Bait this week. As I mentioned last week, I've taken a job as a reading tutor at a nearby elementary school. I'm really excited about it, the hours are great, the pay is respectable, the commute is practically nonexistent...but try as I may, I can not get anyone to yell Bait! so I can push off the wall and start swimming. I'm in the pool, at the wall, one hand on the side, legs tucked under me, feet ready to push against the side for a strong start...just yell Bait already, would ya? Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr Processing Delay...Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr Snow Day...Allllll-i-gaaa-torrrrr 2 Hour Delay Makes the Day Hectic So Let's Push It Back One More Day. Three times I've expected to start, three times I've been deferred. Should I consider this a sign? Have I been pitched three strikes before I even had a chance to swing? Nah, I don't think so, but if Friday comes and I'm still sitting at the wall, it might be time for me to towel off and go home!

Sorry this is a day late, but Happy Frog Hog Day to all of you! Oh, you don't celebrate Frog Hog Day? Well, it's one of our favorites around here.

When Lily was 4 she came home from preschool and told me it was Frog Hog Day, then she crinkled her nose in that precious way she's done since infancy, which told me she knew she wasn't getting it quite right, but close enough. She meant Groundhog Day, but I'll take "Frog Hog" any day of the week.

Lily's silly, unintentional way of mixing up names and words is one of my favorite things about her. Sometimes it seems she's just forgetful, like a little old lady who calls you by a name very similar to your own, but not quite. Or sometimes it seems she just hasn't mastered her ever expanding lexicon, like an un-cool parent that slips slang into a conversation but uses it wrong. But most of the time, her brain just seems to do a flip-flop with words that have similar meanings. As a toddler, she called shampoo "hairpoo." And then one day, she just didn't anymore. Sad day for me. Two summers ago when my mom was visiting, Lily came running inside, as serious as could be, and asked if we had "goose tape" for Grandma to fix Luke's broken stomp rocket (of course meaning "duct"). On a recent trip to return a $1 DVD to the machine, she called Bi-Lo, Payless. But it makes sense, doesn't it? Buying something low means you pay less. Love it, love it, love it.

So Happy Frog Hog Day (a day late!). You can keep your groundhogs and shadows and 6 more weeks of winter, because 2/2 is our day to celebrate the lesser known "frog hog" and all the joy she brings into our lives.

It's the end of a very busy day. David is glazed over in front of the Super Bowl, the kids are in bed, I'm sitting on the love seat surrounded by coupon clippings from the Sunday paper, wondering...was the Greatest Show on Earth enough to cancel out the Grumpiest Mom on Earth?

Our surprise trip to the circus was a success, the kids didn't suspect a thing as we got up and dressed for "church" and only questioned us when we were about 8 miles past where we would have turned for church. As we told them about our big surprise, Lily grinned ear to ear, but Luke said, as he shook his head, "But we're not really going to the circus, right?" Apparently, the little guy has had too much disappointment in his life to believe a good thing when he hears it. What?!? I don't think so! I don't know what made him think I'd tell them all about our circus plans, then say, "Just kidding!" He squealed with joy when I confirmed that YES we were indeed going to the circus. It was a great show, and they're really at the perfect age to enjoy it. Unlike the baby beside me who was scared to death at first, then fell asleep. I'll post a few pics when I get them on the computer, of my own kids, not the baby beside me. I was thrilled with the seats I'd picked, somewhat blindly, when I ordered the tickets. They were great, aisle seats, and best of all, they were a steal! I wanted to share my news with all the people around me that I was certain had paid full price, or those people in the "cheap" seats way up high who paid more for theirs than I did for my lower level seats. Not to gloat, just to inform them about the beauty of searching for deals. Really, not to brag, but to be a public service. But back to the show...there were times my heart was pounding with excitement, times I teared up as I watched Lily and Luke soak up every moment, times I thought I'd go postal on the little kid behind me kicking my seat. Every range of emotion, that's how you know it's been a good show, right?

After the circus, we made it home for a quick wardrobe change (clothes covered in snowcone and public arena grossness), before heading to church for a cookout and services. Amazing worship tonight, and an awesome message. A great way to top off a day at the Big Top.

So all that to say, it's been a busy day. A very busy day, following a long week of sick kids and disrupted sleep. Add to that my biological propensity to be very moody this particular week of the month, and by bedtime I was one grumpy mom. Maybe, the Grumpiest Mom on Earth. But nobody buys tickets to see that, not even with a discount. Sadly, if I'm honest, it's not just today either. It's been several days now. And although I know my general sense of well-being is interrupted by my once a month "I hate being a girl" hormone variations, I also know that I'm the only one who can choose to, or choose not to, lose my cool when the cereal is spilled, the wet paint on the school project is smudged, the teeth aren't brushed the first time I ask, the silliness at bedtime doesn't stop the minute the lights go out. Once the moment has passed, it's my lack of self control that bothers me far, far more than whatever it was I lashed out at. It's my misbehavior that sticks with me, not theirs.

So tonight, as Lily and Luke drift off to sleep, I hope the elephants, tigers, trapeze artists, motorcyclists, clowns, dancers, jugglers, horses and all the other wonders that captured their attention still linger in their minds. And amongst all that happiness of the day (including a trip on the light rail, which to the kids is almost as exciting as the circus!), I hope there is just no room left for my raised voice or frustrated sighs to ring in their ears.

Today was the last day of the circus in our area, and as the Greatest Show rolls out of town, I sincerely hope the Grumpiest Mom is on her way out, too.