A New Stroller

Ethan finally has his new stroller. Technically it is called a Push Chair. It is similar to a wheelchair except that it can't be pushed by the rider. The wheels aren't big enough for that. No more carrying him from the car or trying to drag him into the store. Here is a not-so-good picture of him in it:



My teens were not as excited about it. They think it looks too much like a wheelchair, which shouts "Special Needs" or "Disabled." They want people to know him as Ethan, not a kid with labels. It will be interesting to see if people react to him differently than when he was in a typical stroller. Will others be more patient with him when he is playing in the mall play area and doesn't interact or respond like the other children? Will they look past his meltdowns and not comment how tragic it is that his parents haven't taught him how to behave? Or will they merely view him as different and look away, not acknowledging him at all? In dealing with our own inadequacies of not knowing what to do, we often do nothing. We're afraid of offending someone so we say nothing at all. I posted about my own shortcomings. My hope is others can learn and grow the same way we are-by being confronted with different, causing us to step out of our comfort zone.

UPDATE Christina took Ethan to the mall today. When she got home, she said she was shocked at how people reacted to her pushing Ethan in his new chair. She said instead of people smiling at him, talking to him, or commenting that he had cute, curly hair, she said they would turn their heads and look away when they saw him coming. Sad.

Valentine's Day Part 3 (Hopefully the Last One)

As Valentine's Day approached, I just did not feel very creative. I have been distracted by a lot of things. I mentioned I try to remind my kids how much they are loved so they aren't hurt on this day. But as they get older, it gets harder and harder to do something special (without spending LOTS of money.) Almost gone are the days of love notes, stuffed animals, and candy. I don't think they will ever outgrow the love notes. The hard part is trying not to say the same thing every year. Also, I've always thought it important to NOT say the same thing to each child or it minimizes the meaning and thought. So how do you say "I love you, you're important/special to me, I appreciate you, 5 different ways, year-after-year, without repeating yourself???

While out shopping, I noticed these cute little stuffed animals. My 16 year old has always had a fondness of dogs. (Her room is still decorated in the 101 Dalmation theme.) These were small little dogs so I picked up 2. One for her and one for her younger sister. I figured the oldest 3 would definately not appreciate a stuffed animal, at least not from me. Of course I got Ethan one too.

As I packed Sarabeth and Hilary's lunches Valentine's morning, along with a note and candy, I stuffed these dogs in their lunch pails.

When it came time to pick them up from the bus stop, I grabbed some chocolate Valentine candy. Chocolate makes you feel good, right? I saw Sarabeth get off the bus carrying a rose and her stuffed dog. She was smiling. Hilary approached the car looking not so happy. Of the two girls who ride with us, one carried a rose too. Once inside the car, I passed out the bags of candy declaring, "we all need chocolate on Valentine's Day." Three of the kids excitedly thanked me, opened the candy and began eating. The fourth, Hilary, didn't respond. As I was pulling the car away from the school she finally blurted out, "is this all I get for Valentine's Day?" She then tossed the candy to the floor with "are you trying to make me fat?"

My first thought was to immediately address this ungrateful, snotty attitude. I am still learning as a parent, but one of my goals is to respond appropriately in a situation-not react emotionally. I am sure the other kids in the car were aghast at Hilary's rudeness, along with no reaction from me. I knew her day had obviously not gone well. It is no excuse to take it out on others, but at that point correcting the behavior of someone who is hurt and lashing out is wasting my effort.

Later we were finally able to talk. She had sent a singing telegram to a fellow student with her own money. Most of her friends had received flowers or telegrams. She hadn't received anything. (Last year I'd had each of the girls "secretly" send something to the other. I had decided not to repeat that. Should have done it anyway.) And to make matters worse, when she opened her lunch box, she said all of the kids laughed and made fun of her. She said the dog was ugly and it humiliated her. Ouch! (I am now nominated for the "Bad Mother Of The Year Award.") But, Grrrr...junior high kids make me mad. Why do they laugh and make fun of one another. And why does my child worry so much about what other people think? Could she not have ignored them and instead gushed that it was sweet and pretended like she enjoyed this? No, I guess that would be asking too much.

Sigh. Next year I am cancelling Valentine's Day at my house.

Valentine's Day Part 2

Sorry I didn't return yesterday. Ethan's dental work took much longer than anticipated. He did not come out of the anesthesia well. (Or else he was in a lot of pain-he was unconsolable.) I have more to say about dentists and the likes but will save that for another post.

Another quick Valentine's Story.

When my oldest, Christina, went to junior high life certainly changed. This is the year that there are no more classroom parties, no mandatory giving of Valentine's Day cards to every student. Instead, the parties are replaced with the option of "buying your sweetie" something. Two weeks prior to the Lovefest Day, students have the option of purchasing items such as candy, flowers, singing telegrams, etc. from their student council. These items are then delivered only to those students who are very loved by fellow students.

As a side note. The Christian school some my kids attended had a different policy. It started in elementary school. The option that made it better was that parents could purchase a teddy bear, candy, flowers, etc. and have them delivered to their child. This option gave the greatest possibility that every child could feel loved and special.

But this was not an option for Christina that fateful Valentine's Day. When she arrived home her head hung down, her backpack looked like it must have weighed a ton the way she dragged herself in the door. This was my first clue she did not feel loved at school. Her little sister, Elisabeth, was happily singing at the kitchen table. She was carefully opening each of her Valentine's. She would read it in a sing-song voice and talk lovingly about each sender. Sitting beside the notes was a growing pile of candy.

"Look at this one!" She cried out. "Jonathon said he thinks I'm cute and he gave me TWO pieces of candy."

She turned towards Christina as she entered the room. "Look at all of my Valentine's! I got 25 and 2 from my teachers! How many Valentine's did you get????"

Christina stopped to get a drink of water without even looking. But Elisabeth was persistent.

"Well, how many Valentine's did you get? Look at all of my candy, did you get lots of candy?"

"No. I didn't get anything."

"Oh, I guess you don't have any friends." Elisabeth turned and went back to her singsong Valentine's, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

We actually laugh about this now. Christina is 24. But I think Elisabeth is still mortified that at age 7, she just blurted out whatever she was thinking without a thought.

These questions were on WonderWoman's blog, and I just had to answer them for her.

1. Can you use chopsticks?

No

2. How many times have you ever been stung by a bee-type creature?

Just once. That was enough. Got stung on my toe and the swelling went up my ankle.

3. Do you know what SNAFU stands for?

You mean, other than a ridiculous, blundering chaos? Like: Something Not Actually Funny/Unusual?

4. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

Hmm...Sponge Bob?

5. Free groceries for a year, or free gas?

Groceries for sure.

6. Where is the worst place to have a zit?

When you sit down and you are sitting on it.

7. Can you wiggle your ears without wiggling any other part of your face?

Of course I can.

8. If you had $5000 that you HAD to spend on plastic surgery, what would you have done?

Tummy Tuck.

9. How much guilt would you suffer over spending $5000 on plastic surgery?

Plenty.

10. Which is worse: a low droning noise that goes on and on or a piercing shriek that happens once?

Piercing shriek

11. What is a suitable punishment for someone who is the source of a low droning noise that goes on and on?

To have to continue to make that noise 24/7, until they are so tired of doing it they never want to do it again.

12. What is your response to a piercing shriek?

Send offender outside to shriek to their hearts delight, until they are hoarse and can no longer shriek.

13. What is generally your first clue that someone is a moron?

Hmmm...when they feel the need to comment on anything that is none of their business.

14. Is one loaf of bread enough to feed 11 hungry children?

Definately not.

15. Can I borrow a loaf of bread?

Anytime.

16. What is one holiday that you would like to see invented, and how much time off from work should we receive for this holiday?

Mother's Week. Every mom would get a week away to do as she wanted-no questions asked and come home to a clean home and happy family.

17. If you could give every person in the world a present, what would it be?

God's Love

18. What is the most charitable act you have done recently?

Does letting the dog out front count? He LOVES to not be penned up, (and if he ran away and never came back, dh would be oh so happy.)

19. Did you have to think far too long for a response to #18?

Nah, just thought about the last thing I did.

20. Which is cuter, a 4 week old puppy or a 5 month old human?

Uh, after the above response, you need to ask???? A 5 month old human for sure. (And when I'm finally free of pets, and if my home is not full of grandkids do NOT under any circumstances bring a cute little 4 week old puppy to my house. I might forget momentarily what it is like being a dog owner.)

Valentine's Part One

For a week I've wrestled with what to write for "Valentine's Day." Do I honor my dear sweetie in all his glorious romance? There are so many thoughts and emotions associated with this celebration. I've cursed it, romantically dreamt about it, planned for it, and anticipated with great excitement all this day might hold. I have much to say about this whole affair, far too much for one day's post.

A heads up for the men: Don't invite your sweetheart to lunch at the mall on Valentine's Day. It doesn't matter that you had your heart set on a gyro sandwich that you can't get anywhere else. If you do this, on the way home your sweetie will not be thanking you for the thoughtfulness in taking her to lunch. She will be distracted. She will be confused. When you mentioned the mall, she thought somehow all of her subtle and not-so-subtle hints about those cute earings penetrated your thoughts. She will imagine that you have decided to be totally out of character extravagant. (Yes, she did say that "she" would never spend that much on a pair of earrings, but has no problem with "you" spending that much.) When you exit right after eating something will be amiss. You will no longer look like the loving husband taking his darling out for lunch. You are now that guy who still believes his wife when she says things she really doesn't mean. (If you are really confused, you need to read this post by WonderWoman entitled "I heart you."

That's what I mean about Valentine's Day. Too often it can set a heart up for hurt and disappointment.

The school is a place that notoriously sets up the beginnings of Valentine heartbreaks. In Elementary school notes are sent home that if a child brings Valentine cards they must bring one for each student. But does anyone really check? Did you ever get a "Teacher" card from another student and realize he or she didn't actually hand-pick a valentine for you? Or did you receive a Valentine with someone else's name on it? Have another child walk by sneering, "I didn't get one for you," or worse, "I gave candy to everyone but you."

I have tried to be sensitive to my children on this day. I've spent time, money, emotion, prayers, and tears in trying to do something to make them feel lavishly loved. If they go to school after feeling extravagantly loved, any ill-shot cupid arrows won't penetrate their little puffed up hearts. Sadly, I haven't always been successful.

(Continued tomorrow, after Ethan's dental work which he will have to be put under general anesthesia.)

My favorite 3 year old is here.



He was finally well this week after his bout with pneumonia. On Wednesday at preschool, his teacher said he was the only one in his class. Everyone, including his bus driver, had strep throat. Christina called his Dr. on Thursday because he'd hold his neck while playing. She didn't notice a fever, but the seizure meds he's on seem to lower his body temp. The Dr.'s office said she'd have to call Friday. They couldn't get him in Friday and said to call on Saturday. Today he got in. He has strep and an ear infection. The dr. said his throat looked like it REALLY was sore. Poor thing. So as soon as he is up from his nap, I'll spend the afternoon snuggling on the couch with him.

Hair Update

Paula asked how I was wearing my hair now. When she asked I was in the middle of wishing for that makeover. So here I am that day.


Yesterday I broke down and got someone else to touch up the color and cut it. (And for those who remember me posting about the waiter, who in reality was my hairdresser, no I wasn't up for the confrontation, so went to someone else.)

So here I am today. Not sure if I'm going to wear it curly or straight. This is in between. The girl said she was only going to take an inch off, lol. Hairdressers. To think I used to be one.

Locked Out

Last night as I started preparing and setting out the lunches for today, I realized there were no dessert items. I cannot in good conscience pack a kids lunch without giving them a dessert. It just seems unAmerican or something. So even though I was tired and would rather go to bed, I decided to make cookies.

I turned the oven on, softened the butter and then the frustration began. I could not find this:

For those of you with a Houdini toddler in the house, you may know what this is. For the others, I will explain. This is a very powerful magnet that sits on the side of my microwave oven. It is used to open magnetic cabinet locks. These are the only locks I have never seen a kid break into-ever! This sweet little knob never leaves its home, except when the flour/sugar cabinet needs to be opened. Then it is allowed to momentarily makes it presence known on the cabinet front and is sent immediately back to its lovely home. So where in the world was it???

I glanced around the countertop, in the sink, on the floor-all of the obvious places it might have come to rest if it had been knocked off. I would be blaming a dear little boy, but he hadn't been around for 4 days. So I called in the search team. After questioning each one as to whether or not they had possibly forgotten where this lil' knob lived and inadvertantly given him a new home, I had them searching. I even had them check their bedrooms on the off chance that someone was holding lil' knob and walked off with him. Nope! No where to be found.

My oven was more than preheated. It was already baking, just didn't have anything to bake. Poor hubby. He was called in and aided in the search. He finally got out a knife. What was he going to do? Saw into my cabinet? I should have more faith in him. He managed to slip it between the door and the lock, after a bit of trouble, and magically open the door. I was elated! And wouldn't you know it. There on the inside of that door sat mr. totlock. He somehow jumped from the microwave to the inside of the cabinet, thus locking himself inside the very cupboard he was designed to open. I would have never found him if it hadn't been for my very smart husband.

The cookies were made. The lunches were saved. Some kids had a very good lunch today. I just might have to remove not only Mr. Totlock, but his locking counterpart.

“Friends are angels who lift our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly.”




"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

I guess I'm going to have to make an appointment to have my hair cut.

A local radio station is having a contest. It is a Valentine's Heart 2 Heart Makeover contest. A devoted, loving man is supposed to nominate his sweetie for a makeover, wardrobe shopping with the experts, dinner, overnight at a posh hotel, etc. Would that not be a cool thing to win???

I mentioned it to hubby. I knew hinting would not get the job done. I told him the possible benefits of his actions: Free makeover for me, a FREE dinner and over night with me, he would get a free haircut, a very happy wife who he'd get to spend alone time with...

Figuring he probably didn't do it, I mentioned that I should just go ahead and make an appointment for this week to at least get a haircut. He laughed. "What do you think your chances are for winning this contest?" Well, he had a point. (Did I mention that you had to include a full length photo of you and your sweetie?) So are they looking for someone who "looks" like she desperately needs a makeover and wardrobe? Or someone who looks like a million bucks that they can make look frumpy in a before photo and then a knock-out in the after photos? Ok, so I would definately not make the latter category (except I can do a good frumpy.)

I reminded him that I did indeed win a contest of sorts. He honestly doesn't remember it at all. It was 20 years ago.

I was a young mom, pregnant with my 3rd child. Our marriage was at a tough point, I was still a new Christian desiring to be a perfect wife and mother (and feeling like a failure at both.) Finances were tight. I wore the same dress to church 3 times a week, and the same pair of shoes. In my desperation, I had the privilege of attending a Women's Advance at our church. (Same thing as a "retreat" but we like to think we are going forward, not running scared-hence the word "Advance.") It was a wonderful time of refreshing. For the cost, it meant more than a new dress or shoes that I could have bought. At the end of the Advance, they gave away prizes. All of them were lovely, but the grand prize was a free dinner and an overnight stay at the Marriott. Inside I so wanted to win something. It was a way to feel validated as a person. Receiving something special somehow spoke "you are valued and loved." I smiled, cheered, and rejoiced with each lady that won. As they were about to draw a name for the final prize, I caught myself hoping beyond hope. My heart was beating wildly. And then I caught myself.

I bowed my head and silently prayed, "Lord, please give this gift to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen." The leaders at the podium announced my name. I was in shock. If I hadn't been so pregnant, I would have jumped up and down. Still stunned I walked forward to collect my prize.

God, in His infinite mercy and grace, knew what this meant to me. It was His own special way of telling me that He did indeed love me and that I held value in His eyes. That was all that mattered.

I am not at a desperate place in life. My prayer once again is, "Lord, please give this prize to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen."

Secrets

Do you keep secrets? I'm not asking whether or not you gossip, whether you hear it or speak it. I'm talking about keeping things from loved ones to spare them from what you perceive as "too stressful." Protecting them.

Here is an example: In the 11th week of my 4th pregnancy, we found out the baby had died. I was about to miscarry. We were devastated. The very same day we received this devastating news, my father-in-law was having heart surgery. When my mother-in-law phoned to tell us about how things went, I put on a cheerful voice and carried on as if everything was fine. I was thankful she didn't ask how I was feeling. I don't think I could have lied. But I still felt dishonest. I felt the same way talking with my sister-in-laws.

In the back of my mind, I imagined being in my mother-in-law's shoes. Her husband had undergone major heart surgery. If this was me, and one of my daughters happened to experience the loss of a child in utero, would I want to know? My answer? Absolutely! I would be heartbroken if my daughter had been afraid to tell me. But Michael thought it best to not tell his family at that time. I figured he knew them better than I did. I mentioned it to my own mom, who let me know that she would want to know and felt it was wrong of me to keep it from them.

I had my answer a few weeks later. When we finally shared the news that there would not be another grandbaby in 6 months, my mother-in-law thanked me for NOT telling her when it happened. So Michael was right. He knew his parents much better than I did.

I mentioned this to my children the other day. I figured I should let them know that in any situation that I could imagine, I did NOT want them keeping secrets from me. I told them I did not feel like anything would be too stressful. I would be disappointed if they did not share something that I could be praying for them. I would not get stressed about a situation, but I could certainly intercede with the Father for them. And I'd be hurt if they did not share what they were going through with me. My oldest, Christina said, "you mean, like when I didn't tell you right away that Ethan had pneuomonia?" Ouch!

Yes, that was exactly what I meant. I told her that I would have appreciated her telling me. If she was afraid I'd run down there to be with them, she could say, "I don't want you here, but you can be praying." She said that the reason she didn't tell me right away is because she DID need help. She was afraid she would tell me she really needed me to come down and that I would feel obligated and do it no matter what.

I let her know that I was capable of making critical decisions. That there was the chance I might have had to tell her "no, I can't come down to help right now." (yeah right) but that I would have appreciated being able to make that decision. So hopefully, I have that straight with my own children.

But I hate keeping secrets.

"It doesn't matter how many languages you speak, you will return to your native tongue when praying or making love. It says a lot about true intimacy, it can't be faked."

Joanne

Big Loser

You know you are losing inches when your sports bra has wrinkles in it. I was looking forward to buying new clothes, but not this.

Where's the Delete Key???

Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.

What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.

It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.

I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:

1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?

Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.

Song

I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.

Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"

I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."

That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.

That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.

What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.

Okay, here are some pics of my hair obsession. I know it will be overkill and far more than anyone wants to witness, but here they are: (And by-the-way, I did delete 8 other pics from this so you wouldn't think I was completely obsessed.)

I had the best time meeting with Heth! She is every bit as real and sweet as she is on her blog. And that baby was just adorable. I think we could have chatted all day long and never run out of things to talk about. I found it very amusing that our dh's seemed to have a lot in common too. I am so thankful we had the chance to meet in person. She is a rare gem.

I couldn't sleep last night. Either it was the Starbucks I had at 4:30 or I was too excited about today. I think it was the latter, or both. You see, I'm going to do something today that I've never done before. I'm going to meet one of my online friends in person. She happens to be in town with her hubby, who is on a business trip. I have no idea what we will talk about, but I have a feeling we will find plenty of topics for conversation. Of course there is a tricky part to this whole situation.

I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."

So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.

I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.

My Obsession

(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)

Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.

I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.

When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.



Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.

My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.

Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)

But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.

Out On The Boat

During our trip to Phoenix, Michael and I went out on my sister's boat. They live in a Lake Community. Seeing as how Phoenix is actually part of the desert, living on a lake seems the only option for surviving the Arizona heat in the summer. In the winter it is gorgeous! We had a lovely cruise around the lake looking at equisite and expensive homes. Here are some photos to give you an idea of what I am talking about. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so had to take these with my phone, so the quality is poor.

Grandmother

I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.



After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.

Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.

Go Broncos

Go Broncos!

If you are a Denver Bronco fan, there isn't much more explanation needed. Today is a big day. If they win against the Steelers we will be in the Super Bowl. When they get this far, though, everyone becomes a fan-even if they are not football fans.

I've always liked football, but coming from Arizona (back when they didn't have a team) I didn't understand what Bronco fever was. It didn't take long to become a Denver Bronco fan. I have home video of my 3 oldest children decked out in Bronco clothing. My son is singing, "La, la, la, love the Broncos, we are the 3 Amigos..." (Okay, probably nobody will get that one unless they were around for the SuperBowl something like 17 years ago.) My 5 year old at the time reads a story, complete with hand-drawn pictures, of the Broncos going to the SuperBowl.

I take advantage of every occasion to have fun, create a festive atmosphere. One tradition relates to the Broncos. Anytime they get this far in the Play-Off games, out comes the Blue and Orange nail color. I've been waiting all week for my nail decals to arrive that I bought off of ebay. So this afternoon, I got busy. (I still have 3 more sets of nails to paint before the game starts. I don't mind doing them at the last minute, I just hope the Broncos win so we can wear them until the SuperBowl. We are fickle fans. If they lose, there will be some quick removal of our blue and orange.

Sad

I want to cry. I have been cooking and creating recipes for a number of years. I've been storing these in an email file. This year I decided to create a cookbook, that way, when each of my kids moves out I can give them a copy of some of their favorite foods, meals, and dishes. I also have a collection of recipes handed down from my mom and mother-in-law.

So why do I want to cry? I finally have my computer back to normal function. The bad news...I lost everything in my email account. Yes, dumb, I know. I had some picture files there and music too. Those losses I will live with. (And hopefully , I can somehow get all my email addresses and internet favorites back little-by-little.) Little things like the daily blogs I liked to visit. (I did find the few who have commented on mine-thank-you!)

I am just not sure what I'm going to do this next week when I am planning meals. Or when Michael or one of the kids request a favorite meal that was recently created. I must be off to bed before I let it get to me.

End of the Spear

What an emotional movie this was! Thankfully, it ended on a very positive/laughable note. I need that at the end of a movie that has caused me to cry. (I don't cry very easily.)

It wasn't at all what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't go with any great expectations-except that I was a little miffed when I went. I had purchased 5 tickets at $8 each. We rarely go to the movies. Once a year, usually around the holidays, we try to go as a family (all 8 of us.) But it was still a big deal to purchase 5 tickets.

My youngest 2 have a lot of homework at night, so a week ago Thursday, the worked diligently to have it all finished by dinner. (Even Sarabeth, who works stage crew until 5, and didn't get home until 5:30 tried to work ahead so she could attend the movie.) El had to work that night, which I didn't know. My girls invited friends to go, but nobody else was allowed to go to a movie on a school night. Then Michael bailed on me. He was too tired to go out. Ugh! So the three of us jumped in the car and off we went.

The theater parking lot was strangely quiet. I didn't think we were very early. Once inside I pulled out our tickets. I couldn't believe it. We were there a week early. The movie wasn't until the following week. I started laughing and told the girls. I felt a little guilty for giving my husband such a hard time and was ever so thankful I hadn't convinced him to come.

The girls said they'd worked so hard to be able to go, they didn't want to go home. So we went to the mall, visited with El, and laughed a lot about getting the wrong date.

Last Thursday we were having our first big snow. The driving was treacherous, and I was tempted to just not go to the movie-in spite of the $40 I'd spent. Once again the girls were diligent, so we went. And once again, it was only the 3 of us. But this time, I wasn't angry.

The movie was excellent. It was more about the tribes people than the missionaries. It is rated PG13 for violence. The message was simple and poignant. The men were killed because the people they went to help didn't understand why they were there. But ultimately, it was their sacrifice that brought true freedom and change for these people. The movie did not preach. This was not a movie like one of Billy Graham's that the Gospel is preached and lives are changed. But the simple message of the gospel was. I laughed when my daughter asked, "why didn't dad go? They didn't even say God or Jesus once in the movie." She thought he would have enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe when it comes out in video.

5 Weird Things About Me

I was tagged by Paula at Full Of Life This has been a difficult one for me to resond to. Do I really want to reveal weird things about myself? What will others think, that I'm weird? Oh well, here goes:

Five weird habits of yourself:

“The first player of this game starts with the topic ‘five weird habits of yourself,’ and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says ‘You are tagged’ (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.”


1. I have always wanted a housefull of children. I still think we need about a dozen to feel full.

2. I sometimes get hung up on meaningless things. Once I wondered if I put my deodorant on the same way every day. Was it always the left underarm first? So just for fun, every day that week I switched off. I'd leave the container facing the direction of which I left off on. (You see, I obviously have too much time...not enough kids yet.)

3. I shower, fix my hair, and wear makeup to work out. I can't imagine not doing this ever.

4. I don't sit in the same spot at church every week. When taking classes with open seating, I like to sit in a different seat every time. It drives others crazy. They walk in and look at you as if to say, "what are you doing in my seat? Get out!"
But I like variety.

5. I bought a "puppy love" stuffed dog from the post office one day. I thought it would make a nice gift for one of the kids sometime when he or she was having an off day. (Or a fun locker suprise.) But then I kept him for myself as my driving companion. He sits up front with me and goes everywhere with me. I've even been known to stuff him in my purse and take him shopping with me. (Must be a leftover memory/feeling from when I was growing up. I kept a water balloon with a face drawn on it for nearly a year-as sort of a pet/friend.)

LOL, one of these days I will post about my hair obsession, but I'm not going to include it here.

So now that you all know how weird I really am, I'm going to go out on a limb here and tag Jenni , Tina Moriah , Heidi , and Shel(. So ladies, when you have a day and can't think of anything to blog, please share your weird habits so I don't feel alone in the weird category.

End Of The Spear

Am going to see "End Of The Spear" tonight. Hope it is good. It is based on the true story "Jim Elliot," a missionary and "the rest of the story." I will update and let you all know what I think.

What I'm Currently Reading

At the moment I'm reading a book entitled, "Experiencing Spiritual Breakthroughs" by Bruce Wilkinson. I bought it some time ago, but am just getting around to reading it. I find a lot of spiritual books tend to be written more for women, as I think in general they are the ones most likely to read them. But I have found this one seems to relate more to men. So far, it seems to be one of those life-transforming books. I've decided to give you a taste, by copying a bit from the first chapter:

“Guys,” I said, as I squinted up into the sun, “what were we thinking?”
Above us loomed a hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock. Our objective was simple-get the three of us from down here to up there. A rope snaked down the cliff face to coil menacingly at our feet.

It didn’t help that several teammates had already succeeded at this training phase and were now throwing down encouragements from on high. Or that my partner Al was busy breaking our crisis into bite sizes.

“One hundred and fifty feet is about fifteen stories, I figure,” he said. “Maybe six seconds of free-fall time. Hit the ground right here with about as much forces as, oh, maybe…”

“Al,” I broke in, “why don’t you hand the rope to Jeff.” Fortunately for my quaking knees, Jeff had been tagged to go up next.

I helped him get clipped into the safety harness. The whole point of this trial-by-rock was to face down our fears. By learning to trust not only our equipment but also the other men on our team, we would break through to a higher level of personal confidence and team spirit.

“The man on the top is working with you every step of the way,” our climbing coach had said. “The gear is top-rated. You’ll do fine, especially if you don’t look down.”

When Jeff was securely in his harness, he yelled up, “I’m ready! Who’s holding my line? My life is in your hands!”

“Vince!” Came the reply from far above.

Suddenly Jeff froze, then stepped back and unclipped his harness. Clearly, he wasn’t going up. He started waving his hands and shaking his head to the team above. “I’m not taking one step up this rock with that guy holding my rope!” He shouted. “Get me somebody else!”

In the shocked silence that followed, a feeling even more sickening than the fear of heights hit my stomach. It was imagining the utter embarrassment of Vince, the man on top, rejected as an untrustworthy climbing partner. It was the shattering awareness that all the camaraderie we’d been building piece by piece for days was about to fall apart.

The three of us looked up. The crew above peered down. And none of us knew what to do next.

Until Al stepped up. I heard a click. Al was buckling himself into the dangling harness. In a moment he was leaning into the rope.

“Vince!” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“I’m ready!” came back the reply.
“Here I come!” yelled Al. And he started up the face of the wall.

When Al was only about, oh, maybe one second of free-fall time up that cliff; I had my second breakthrough moment. My knees were still jelly, but at least I was breathing again. “You’re going to be okay, said that little voice. You’re going to climb that cliff just fine…all the way to the top.

And by the end of the day, that’s exactly what I had done.

The Other Surprise

The night before Christopher went back to college, we were both sitting in front of the computer. (He was at his dad's, I was at mine-in the same room.) He said,

"Ma, I told you and dad you could borrow my car while you were in town. Why did dad rent one?"

Michael's email was open and Christopher noticed a Hertz email. Before I could answer, he let out a yelp.

"What the???? A Ford Mustang convertible???? Oh my gosh! I can't believe this!"

Now I was curious. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. Granted I have secretly always wanted to drive a convertible, but it is one of those things I have never said outloud to him. Plus, once you pass the 4-5 kid mark, those thoughts are covered over with "the bigger, the better" ideas.

The other thought that came to me was I could not remember a time that Michael tried to surprise me in any fashion even close to this. Anyone who knows him, number one would say he is NEVER frivolous with money, and secondly is so very practical (not to mention very, um, cheap? Ok, frugal.) This was so out-of-character for him. But lately I never know what to expect. It has been an exciting time in our lives.

Christopher made me promise not to say anything and to act surprised. But the rest of the night, whenever he catch my eyes, he'd go into this routine. He'd hold his hands out on an imaginary steering wheel, toss his head as if his hair was blowing in the wind while driving with the top down. We'd laugh and laugh. I think everyone thought we were nuts.

Thankfully, Michael mentioned it the day before we left. I wouldn't have to put on an act of surprise. But I felt like a little kid in a candy store. At unexpected times, I'd break out in a big grin or laugh. After being married 22 years, were we learning to have fun again?

Here is the one time Michael drove the car all weekend-when we left the airport.



The rest of the time I was the driver. The weather was gorgeous. I think I only left the top up once. I didn't care what I looked like once I got to my destination. I would just mention the car, and they'd understand. We'd left the kids at home and we were out acting like we didn't have a care in the world. We all need a weekend like this.

The Christmas Gift

During the Christmas break our house was full again. (Well, maybe full is not a good term to use. I would never want to give the impression that others were not welcome because we could not fit anymore into our home.) Christopher was home from college for nearly 3 weeks, Christina and Ethan were here, and the girls were home from school. It is wonderful to not have a schedule and to just sit and visit. Michael remarked how great it was to have everyone here. That is when the idea came for the Christmas gift. I told him I am sure his parents felt the same way every time he came into town to visit.

He knew we'd found the perfect gift. Very quickly, he got on the internet and made plans for he and I to fly there for a surprise visit. On Christmas he called them and told them their gift would be late, that it would arrive sometime in January. On Friday the 13th, we knocked at their door. The gift had arrived.

I have to admit, the gift felt a bit selfish. Afterall, Michael and I not only had a mini-vacation, but the added blessing of seeing his parents/family, and mine as well. (I like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.) To me, there is no greater joy than sharing our lives and spending time with family and others.

I've mentioned the "Memory Jar" in my "Surprises" post. We saw it in person. It it a beautiful Tea Jar that sits on their coffee table. (The Tea Jar is from the memory everyone has of my Father-in-law making sun tea nearly every day in the hot Arizona summers. It usually sat on the diving board by the pool, which had to be moved when the kids wanted to swim. Dad made sure we never ran out of ice cold, refreshing tea. Before the jar in the 'fridge was empty, there'd be another one brewing in the hot sun.) The Memory Jar is stuffed with folded pieces of paper, filled with a lifetime of memories. I realized when we were there, that Mom and Dad are hoping the jar never runs empty. It shouldn't. As time goes on, when memories come to mind or new ones are made, we will compose them on little folded pieces of paper. Just as dad never let the tea run out, we will not let the memories run out.


Michael with his mom and dad





This is my newest little niece. She is 6 weeks old.

Oh Well

I may not be around for a few days. My computer is still completely hijacked. I miss my online friends. I can occasionally read message boards and can type offline and sometimes upload here. But for most everything else it has become nearly impossible. I am typing away and have to stop to shut-down the 10 or so pop-up boxes that have intruded into my space. This is so much worse than junk mail. Junk mail I can toss in the trash in one fell sweep without having to pay much attention, but this is truly aggravating, intrusive, and steals way too much of my time. And realistically, who in their right mind who go to a link on a pop-up advertising? Why would I give business to a company who would allow their advertising to come in through a virus/hacking on one's computer? Sheesh!

On a positive, Michael will hopefully get this fixed sometime next week. (Says it will take the better part of a day.) By then, my in-laws will hopefully have received their Christmas package and I can at least share some happy news on that front.

Early Morning

Twice this week instead of riding the bus, one kid has been running late and I've had to make the 45 minute roundtrip drive to school. Honestly, I don't mind the drive, and don't mind too much that it is at 7 instead of 6:40a.m. But the price of gas for my gas-guzzling SUV is expensive. I already have to make this drive every evening at 5 to pick up a child who stays late for extra-curricular activities.

Oh well, the view can be pretty spectacular. This pic didn't turn out so well as I took it while pulling out of the school parking lot, but it gives you an idea.

Surprises

Have you ever sat on a surprise, waiting...anticipation...excitement...the feeling that you are about to burst, or at least tell the secret? That is where I'm at, so I'm going to share about the secret, but not exactly.

For Christmas, we purchased sort of an unusual Christmas gift for my inlaws. It was an online order, and they haven't received it as of yet. It should arrive sometime this week. They know their gift is coming, and I sure hope the anticipation won't leave them disappointed. Every day I wonder, think about the coming gift and hope the surprise of it will be worth the wait. I am dying to tell all of you what that gift is, but it will have to wait until the intended recipients actually get it-just in case they might read this entry. But I can hardly stand the suspense.

Oh, and you want to hear about another really cool gift? My sister-in-law thought of this. She asked each of the grandkids to write out 10 memories of their grandparents. Each of the inlaw children (that's me) to write out 10 memories, and then each of the children to write out 30-40 memories. (Obviously, they will have more memories than anyone else.) All of these were then placed in a jar so that every day one memory could be read for the entire year. It started January 1st. My dear father-in-law has been typing them out in an email every day to share with the rest of us. It has been lots of fun.

And one of these days very soon, we'll get an email or a phone call that mentions the Christmas present. Then I can share the secret with all of you!

Normal

Let's take a poll, seriously, how many of us waste huge amounts of time because of this computer box sitting in front of us??? Mine, of late, is much worse. I still don't have the problems fixed yet. Having your computer hijacked by a virus is like being sick. You find yourself irritated because you can't do things at normal speed. You waste your precious time trying to fix whatever is ailing you, when all you really want to do is "be normal."

Ahhh...normalcy. Should that word even be in our vocabulary? Too often we place the normal category on life being predictable, going along as we have planned. What foolishness is this? Life is never the same. Life=change. From the moment we are born life is changing, so why are we thrown for a loop when the unexpected happens? What we should be doing is expecting the unexpected, plan on life not going as planned. If we happen to be in a red southbound car and all of the sudden we find ourselves in a silver rocket headed for the moon we need to learn to embrace the new journey. Because if not, about the time you have quit complaining and wishing to be back in the red, southbound car, you'll find yourself plummeting from the sky ready to crash land. Then you are wishing you would have enjoyed the blast off and the trip upward. But you missed it because you were so busy being irritated.

Okay, enough about my computer woes. I've got to deal with it and somehow move on. I need to enjoy the life OUTSIDE of my computer life and remember the joys of a handwritten journal among other things.

Signing off now.....

Simple Girl

For a long time, I've thought of myself as a simple girl. I've never been a flashy, glitzy person. When I married, 22 short years ago, I wed with a simple gold wedding band. Seemed very appropriate. Sometime when I was pregnant with my 5th child, it disappeared. I replaced it with something very inexpensive, just so I "looked" married again. (I suppose having 5 kids in tow was an indication that I was possibly married, lol.)

After our 15th anniversary, I asked Michael for a new wedding ring for my birthday. That was all I wanted. Together we picked out a beautiful anniversary band with 7 diamonds around it. I tried on a few "big" rings, but having always worn a band, I didn't think I could get used to what felt like a big, clunky ring.

I can't remember whose idea it was now, but a few years ago on Mother's Day, Michael and I picked out a Mother's ring. It had a birthstone for each of my children. (I decided it is nice having one in April-diamond, and July-ruby.) Those were my favorite stones, and after a short period I took the ring back and had the other stones replaced with diamonds. So a ruby for my son, and 4 diamonds for each of the girls. It took a bit getting used to a ring with stones protruding out the top. But it is precious to me and somehow I became accustomed to it.

Here we are, at 22 years and Michael wanted to upgrade my wedding ring again. (Who would have guessed?) Before Christmas we went together and picked out another anniversary band with bigger, more sparkling and more diamonds. Again I tried on several bulky rings but wasn't sure. So I went with the familiar: an easy-to-wear band. I think I was disappointed, though, when nobody noticed.

Back to the jewelry store we went. I found a ring for the same price as the band and exchanged them. Arriving home, my daughter noticed right away. Deep down, I think I was thrilled.

Have I been a simple girl out of necessity all these years? Is there really a flashy, glitzy "look-at-me" person trying to break forth? Honestly? I don't think so. But I am at a place in my life where I can enjoy impractical things. I can paint my nails and wear high-heeled boots. And every time I glimpse these sparkles from my hand, I think of the man who loves me and all we've been through. I catch myself caught up in the way this ring glistens. And I imagine this is the way life is supposed to be. As we get older, rather than being haggard and worn, our lives should glisten and gleam from the inside out revealing God's handiwork.

Pop-up Ads

One of my children has done it again. I have a bug in my system and now Michael is going to have to remove everything and reinstall. This happened once before and he was pretty convinced it came from AIM. I don't use AIM a lot, mostly to chat with family members (including my kids.)

After the first time this happened, I didn't download AIM. I only used Express from their website. After nearly a year, one of my kids (who lives out of state) convinced me that I really should just download. So I did. It works fine when "I" use it, but I'm not the only one who uses my computer. All family members at one time or another have gotten this bug (or one like it.) All but Michael. Guess who is the only one who doesn't use AIM ever???

Then one of my children admitted to chatting on AIM with a school friend when the friend sent a message/link with pics. She said when she clicked on it, the computer went ballistic. It in turn, also sent the same message to everyone on her buddy list. I thought I had been pretty clear about not opening links in emails or AIM, but their interpretation was that it was ok if it was from someone they knew.

What really infuriates me is any business that would advertise and use a service that would infiltrate a computer unknowingly in this manner. Oh, and the other thing it does is highlight words throughout both email or any web page you go to. For example, I was reading a blog yesterday and the person had a couple of words highlighted to links she had put on there. But then I noticed there were some highlighted and I could tell they were part of this virus/advertising scam. Most of the pop-ups are for ridiculous things, but occasionally I've noticed them from companies that I thought would be more reputable. Apparently not.

Well, this rambling was merely a warning to those who use AIM. Also to say, that until this is fixed, not sure how much I will post. It takes at least twice as long to do anything on here now. Michael said he'd probably get to this problem within the week.

Down in the Laundry Room

Roller coasters

I have to admit it, I love roller coasters. It is interesting to watch others ride too. Some scream in terror, others shriek with delight. To mask their fear, some will laugh themselves silly through the entire ride. Some feign boredom, wearing a tough face, while some just can't get enough thrill and continually search for bigger, better, scarier. I am amused.

Of course there are many who won't go near a roller coaster. My grandmother was not one of those. She lived just a few miles from both Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm and about an hour away from Six Flags Magic Mountain. I loved visiting her as a child, as it almost always meant visiting one of the afore mentioned. Grandma never passed on an opportunity to ride a rollercoaster.

As we'd approach the front of a line at an amusement park, I'd watch Grandma looking ever so frail. I'd read the warnings, regarding those with heart problems and the like to NOT ride. Grandma usually met at least 2 of the criteria for not riding.

"Grandma, are you sure you ought to go on this one?" I'd ask. Her answer was always the same.

"You know, if my heart gives out, at least I was having fun when it did." Of course this answer did nothing to quench my fear that she might not get off of it alive. I suppose if I hadn't wanted to ride so much, I might have tried harder to convince her not to get on, but I didn't want to miss out either.

What is the appeal of these crazy contraptions? Who came up with the insane idea to go as fast as humanly possible, while connected in some way to a metal cart, clacking along a track that throws you contortionately sideways, upside down or backwards? I think I know the answer. No, not who thought these things up, but why they appeal to some of us.

Ponder this a moment. Once you are strapped tightly into a car, the car begins to move, what goes through your mind? Most likely you don't think too far into the future. You are anticipating what might happen next. Your heart begins to beat a bit faster. A rush of excitement comes swooshing up. But you are not thinking about what you will be doing next week, what you are going to make for dinner that night or anything else that might require deep thinking or planning. You might, for just a second, wish you hadn't eaten a chili dog for lunch 15 minutes earlier because you know it won't taste as good coming up as it did going down. Seriously, all you can do is be in that moment of time. There are no worries or regrets. No hurt feelings from the past. You cannot possibly have any depth to your thoughts. (I keep correcting myself. Okay, you might think that your entire life flashing before your eyes is deep thinking, but it doesn't really count.)

There is no thought about what lies before you. On a somewhat smooth area, you might take a second to peer ahead in anticipation if something bigger is coming next, or glance to the side looking for a plummeting drop. But you won't be taking in the sites. No details to distract you, you are hanging on for the ride at a ridiculously fast pace, knowing it will all be over shortly. You are living for the moment, possibly barely hanging on-begging for it to end quickly. This short-lived, exhillarating, fast-moving ride brings laughter, tears, excitement, thrills...a whole bundle of emotions without ever having to really think about anything.

It would be interesting to take a poll to find out if those who love roller coasters also tend to live their lives in this same fast pace. Never stopping to plan or evaluate whether what is going on is good or bad, never wanting to have to look too far into the future as to what might lie ahead that they would need to prepare for. Instead the fast pace is necessary to keep from having to think or experience life. Lives filled with busyness, in order to avoid ever feeling pain, hurt, or even love. This fast pace is like a drug. It is addicting. As soon as you are off the roller coaster, you run off to find the next one, bigger, better, and more thrilling than the last. And for a few brief moments, you won't have to deal with the real things of life. Many keep this dizzying pace up all their lives. Because of times of intense emotion and pleasure they believe they are living life to the fullest, when in actuality, they are avoiding life.

For me, an occasional escape on that coaster once every few years suits me just fine. I love the thrill, but I have to stop and catch my breath. I have to take time to breathe in the odors around me, so that I can detect dangerous smoke or enjoy a fragrant blossom.

Happy Anniversary!

Today, December 29th, Michael and I are celebrating out 22nd anniversary. Sometimes our relationship seems so fresh, it is as if we are still honeymooning. At the same time, I can't remember life without him. I feel like we've finally reached the point in our relationship, that it only gets better with each day. And yes, there are still things I am learning about him, and new things to love about him. So in honor of this special occasion, here are 22 things I appreciate about Michael:

1. His smile, whether he is smiling at one of the kids, grandson, or me. He has a smile that melts my heart.

2. His sense of humor. It pops up unexpectedly at times, and makes me laugh silly. Usually when I am way too serious.

3. His way with finances. How else can you explain how we've managed all these years? When he didn't have a "job" for 2 years, we did great.

4. Along with finances, he is hard-working and creative.

5. Michael is not afraid to take risks.

6. He challenges me. Sometimes it doesn't seem so endearing at the moment, but I am a better person for it. The first few years of marriage I was not thankful for this quality, but I am now. And yes, he still finds ways to get me to step out of my comfort zone.

7. I love the way he tells me that I'm the best thing that ever happened to him.

8. I love his sense of adventure. (I can't wait to see where it takes us when the kids are grown.)

9. He has learned to validate my feelings and listen, not just try to fix everything for me.

10. I love to see the pride in his eyes when he takes Ethan riding on the lawn mower.

11. I love that he is always up for trying new dishes and never criticizes my cooking. He'll try anything once, and if something is really distateful, he will comment, "It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you didn't want to make this one again."

12. Even though he says anything I cook is better than going out to eat, he still takes me out or orders out so I get a break from cooking.

13. He will go get my car washed and vacuumed, just because he loves me.

14. He never leaves his dirty clothes around. He always picks up after himself.

15. When I need an errand run, or chore done, he does it immediately. I never have to ask twice.

16. He's not afraid to admit he was wrong.

17. He is courageous and won't hesitate to stop and ask for directions or for help.

18. He takes care of all of the things I dislike doing, like making phone calls, fixing things, etc.

20. I can't believe he tolerates the way I toss and turn in bed to get comfortable, but never once has he complained.

21. I'm so thankful that he is neat and tidy, but doesn't give me a hard time for not being so organized.

22. I so appreciate that he cares so deeply for me and our children and grandson. His love shines through in all he does. He is my hero.

Paper Anyone?

I'm curious how long I am going to have to use wadded up, shredded toilet paper out of a basket beside the toilet. And what is it about toilet paper that makes a child grab one end of it and run? This particular child, also likes to mummy wrap himself after he has pulled out a sufficient amount. That usually mean it starts at the roll on the wall, runs out the bathroom door, down the hall, into the kitchen with just enough room to twirl. Maybe I need tissue that is not so strong.

I know, many would just throw away these ridiculous amounts of paper wads. But, with 5 females in the house, why would I let perfectly good paper go to waste? The rolls of paper disappear fast enough. It seems I barely get a new roll on and it is time to replace it. So why does this mound in the basket seem to last forever?

I have my suspicions. I think I may be the only one who uses it. I think the other members of this household can't stand the thought of using toilet paper that has been dragged down the hallway or wrapped around a little person's body. I guess when you're a mom, all ideas of sanitary (or is it sanity) go out the window.

UNEXPECTED

Two days ago, I ran into Barnes & Noble for a last minute gift. I was sending out a Christmas package to my parents and it needed to go out that day in order to make it in time for Christmas. But I can never go into the bookstore without stopping in the children's section, or browsing through the clearance books.

I picked up a copy of Billy Crystal's "I Already Know I Love You." I read a page or two, then flipped a few more pages. Without warning, my eyes began to fill with tears. I blinked to hold them back and felt a stinging sensation. The author described the anticipation of waiting for his grandbaby, how he was looking forward to playing peek-a-boo, taking him to his first ballgame. I turned to the last page.

"I'm going to be your grandpa, and I can hardly wait."



I was not prepared for the intense emotion that welled up from within. I turned the book over. The sticker read $16.95. I can't pay that much for a book right now. But I tucked it under my arm and walked to the counter to pay.

I busied myself with watching the people waiting in line. I chuckled to myself when I saw that there was an employee at the front of the line holding a basket. She was offering chocolate candy for all who'd been standing, waiting to pay for their books. (They apparently agree with me, that chocolate should be used as a stress reliever.) As I passed, I accepted her bit of chocolate.

The day was a bit chilly, so I hurried to the car. All the way I was mentally trying to figure out what else I needed to do after going to the post office. I was a bit undone that I always and consistently leave things to the last minute. But while I was pulling out of the parking lot, tears unexpectedly began blurring my vision. I swiped at my eyes with my leather glove. Not very absorbent.

What is wrong with me? I wondered. I do not cry easily. I've never been an overly emotional person. But here I was, still crying on the way home after picking up a children's book. I normally analyze things like this. I like to know what exactly triggers such a strong emotion. When I am very busy, or under stress, I can't say that I am always in tune with feelings. I like to stuff them until a time arises that I can figure out what and why I am feeling. Then I can deal with it and move on. Right then, I didn't have time.

I pulled off my gloves, grabbed a tissue, and dried my eyes again. I tried to focus on all of the things I needed to do, but I couldn't distract myself. And what was I going to do with this book anyway? I was going to give it to my husband to give to our grandson for Christmas. The image of the two of them on Michael's riding lawn mower settled into my thoughts. I cried harder.



When our daughter announced her pregnancy, it wasn't at the best of times. She had made a stand of purity and chosen not to even date through high school. Here she was, at 20, unmarried, telling us the news.

She had friends who told her it wouldn't be convenient to have a child and that she didn't have to. But like I, she values life. We were going to be grandparents.

When I arrived home, I picked up my bag of books and went inside. I tried to put the book aside, while I packed up the box I needed to ship. But I couldn't operate with tears under the surface, still stinging my eyes. So I got the book to present to Michael. I went to him, but found I couldn't speak. I just stood there, holding this book. I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was tears. I waited. This was too hard. I finally blurted out, "I got this book for you to give to Ethan for Christmas. I know it was dumb, but I did." I then retreated to my room to finish the package.

Why am I such a wreck? Because I remember when my daughter was pregnant. I remembered that although we hadn't anticpated being grandparents yet, I often imagined spending time with this new little one. I imagined things like baking cookies together, laughing. I bought lots of books to read to him. I thought of the times I'd answer his questions about why, and tell him about God who created him. But I never imagined that Ethan might not understand these things, nor that there would be so many unknowns. I didn't think that at age 3 I'd still be waiting to hear him say, "gramma."

Michael came in the room. He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. I told him I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked up the book and that I would take it back to the store. He said no. We sat in silence. Once again I dried my tears. "Do you think I should just give it to him, or what?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid he will ruin the book?" I told him it would be ok. He could sit and read the book to Ethan. It didn't matter if Ethan didn't understand a word of it. The words were still true. We DID wait with much anticipation for his arrival. We did and still do look forward to spending time with him, teaching him new things, sharing and experiencing moments together. It is just different than what we'd imagined.

All About Nothing

A bit of time has passed since I've written a thing. The problem? Well, the more days that go by, the more difficult it is to write. I figure people are out there waiting for something terribly insightful, motivating, thoughtful, inspiring...and the more time that passes, the more pressure I feel to perform. The complete irony of the situation? I doubt anyone reads my blog at all, lol. So why do I feel any kind of pressure? Afterall, this is my own little world. I can say or write just about anything that comes to mind. Even if it is all about nothing.

Cold

The weather was bitter
And frightfully cold.
I wanted to stay
In my warm, snug abode.

The bus stop awaiting
We did have to run,
But wearing a coat
just isn't much fun.

"In my locker
it just doesn't fit,
I don't care if I'm cold
not one little bit.

If I take a coat
I'll be late for my classes,
It will slow me down
Like thick, brown molasses."

So off we went
no jackets at all
It's not like it's winter,
We're still into Fall.

Pet Peeve

I sometimes wonder what other parents are thinking, or if they think about anyone but themselves.

The weather has turned chilly. Walking in to church yesterday, I couldn't help but notice the way others were dressed. I'm never surprised to see teenagers without jackets. But what amazes me is how many little children I see without them. One couple came out with their 3 little ones. Their oldest looked to be about 5. He was walking ahead of his parents, hurrying to their car. He had on short sleeves and pants. The two younger boys were dressed about the same but were probably 3 and 1, and were being carried by the parents. Both parents had on nice, long-sleeve clothing, and both were wearing winter jackets.

It wouldn't be so bad if they were just making a quick run to their car-but we go to a large church. You have to cross the street just to get to the parking lot. Then you often have quite a long walk to get out of the wind and cold to arrive at your nice warm car.

Or what about the parents who are warmly dressed, wearing coats, who walk outside with their baby girl. She is dressed adorably in a short-sleeve frilly dress, no shoes, socks or booties, no jacket, not even a blanket. Is it because they are warm, they figure their baby is too? And what about a hat for that bald head to keep out some of that bitter, cold wind?

I recognize that some parents are out to teach their children to make their own choices. I applaud them for this. That is an important thing for them to learn. I have tried to teach my children how to make good choices, instead of the old adage, "just do what I say." Yes, they need to be obedient, but if they never learn to make choices, life becomes very difficult when choices are thrown at them.

But at what age do you allow them to go out without a jacket when the temperature is below freezing? Will a 5 year old, who is busy playing inside his nice warm home really choose to put on a stuffy, hot jacket? What about the 3 and 1 year old? Did they have a choice? I know that nobody asked that baby if she wanted a blanket to wrap around her.

I guess it breaks my heart to see little children improperly dressed in cold weather.

I dropped 2 of my girls off at the bus stop just a few minutes ago. Before we left, I mentioned that it was going to be cold and windy today, with a high of almost 40 degrees. I expressed that if it was me, I would wear a jacket/coat. (Our home was nice and toasty, as I had turned up the heat last night.) My younger daughter obliged my thoughts by grabbing a coat. Her sister had a light jacket. She hates trying to stuff a big coat into her locker. She says it is difficult to get her books out each hour.

When we arrived at the bus stop, my younger daughter leaves her coat in the car. Her parting words were, "I don't need that." I looked up at the temperature. It was 24 degrees. C'est la vie.

EGGS

Fried
hard-boiled
poached
over-easy
deviled
scrambled
soft-boiled
pickled
sunny-side up.

Peek-a-boo eggs
egg salad
served on toast
in an omelette
turned into quiche.

Isn't the egg a wonderful food?
Where would we be without it?
There would be no meringue for pie,
Battered and Fried would be no more,
What about cookies, cakes and the like?
Life just would not be the same, without
the glorious egg.

ELECTRICITY

Many of you know that I lay stuff out the night before in order for mornings to go smoothly. I am not naturally a morning person, so much easier to take care of things the night before.

Somehow last night I forgot to set my alarm. I woke up, looked at the clock and realized I would normally be in the snooze mode. I could have laid there for 3 more minutes, but since my alarm would not be going off, I figured I'd better just get up.

I went downstairs to see if the girls were awake. It felt unusually warm. I checked the thermostat and noticed someone had turned it up-too high. I got closer so I could accurately see to turn it back down. Just as I touched the dial, everything went dark. Hmmm...I think the electricity went out.

I stumbled down the hall, skipping my usual routine of turning on SB's light. Yep! The electricity was most definately out. I roused the girls out of bed assuring them that yes, it was time to get up even though the clocks looked like they were asleep. Back upstairs I went to make lunches.

Ok, now what am I going to make for lunches? I had planned to make them hot lunches and had two thermos' sitting on the counter. So much for planning. Smugly, I thought, "well, I'll get my coffee first, then figure it out," glad that I have the timer set to brew 15 minutes before I get up. But the coffee pot was empty. What? How is this possible? Oh no! The one time I forget to put water in...the morning I don't get a second chance. And why had I thought this would be a good mornng for making eggs for breakfast? What are they going to eat now? Let's see, Hilary likes cold cereal, SB hates it. Sb comes in the room and I offer her cold cereal. Oh wait, she reminds me, she'll just have a slice of that banana bread I made. Darn! I put that in the freezer last night.

I'm proud of my girls. They managed to do their hair and put their makeup on by candlelight-a feat I would have struggled with doing. After dropping them off at the bus stop, I drive to Starbucks for a Vanilla Latte. But wait, why not get just a black coffee? It will be quicker, cheaper, and I can go home and add anything to it I want. Yes, I go for a black, Venti coffee.

When I pull into the driveway, I notice the kitchen light is on. Nice. The electricity was off for just that 1/2 hour it takes to get my kids ready and off to school. Oh well, my coffee pot is already set for tomorrow morning.

Falling Leaves

Who doesn't enjoy jumping into a giant pile of leaves?

Overwhelmed

Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.

But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?

Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.

I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.

It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.

"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05

My Little Magician

My daughter El works at the mall. On Halloween, each store in the mall hands out candy to trick or treaters. Christina asked if I would dress Ethan up and take him to the mall. She had class. So I dressed up our little magician, who by-the-way, is definately some sort of magician the way he can wiggle out of his clothes and get his diaper off.



Hilary and her friend also dressed up.



Sadly, Ethan missed getting candy from his aunt. He fell asleep on the way to the mall, and that was the end of his evening.

Taking Tests

My girls go to a very academically challenging school. They are really big into tests. My youngest, Hilary, is in her second year at this school. She works so very hard to be successful. She is diligent to study for tests.

Recently Hilary has been complaining that she has a hard time seeing the board at school. Seeing as how everyone else in the family wears glasses, we figured it was about time to get her an eye exam.

The eye doctor was surprised that she was having a hard time seeing the board. He said she could get glasses, but didn't really need them. We went ahead and got them. I was still surprised, though, when she came home complaining that she still was having trouble reading the board.

I took her back to have her eyes re-checked. I took 2 of my daughters on the same day, and they took them to 2 different rooms. Somehow, I didn't end up going in with Hilary. Afterwards, she brought me her new presription for glasses. Apparently, when it was time for her to take the "eye test," she automatically wanted to do well. Her solution was to squint until she could make out the letters. Unfortunately, it did not accurately give a picture of her struggle in seeing the board at school.

Thankfully, the second "eye exam" she did not try so hard to be successful and see perfectly. She admitted her inadquacies in being able to make out what letters she could see. Imagine her amazement when she received her glasses with the new prescription. She could hardly get over how "sharp" things looked. Don't you wish all kids tried so hard on tests and exams???

FALL

As I see and hear the sights and sounds of Autumn, I remembered something I wrote a while back. After yesterday's snow and my posting, this will sound contradictory.
I have never been fond of Fall. I supposed it was from growing up in Phoenix where there aren't any seasons. But I don't think so. We have seasons in our lives, and for me change is hard sometimes. I like to be comfortable. I love the warm, carefree summers. I love the new life of Spring. I love wearing turtlenecks and sweaters in the winter snow, but I am not fond of the change that Fall brings.

As I see the leaves turning beautiful, brilliant colors
Everything looks so alive
But what is really happening is
They are dying.
The nights too cold to sustain them.
Shortened days and not enough sunlight
To maintain their green color.
So although beautiful,
Death is at their doorstep.
The bright red, gold, yellow, and orange
Are not symbols of life,
But of change.
Soon they will be nothing
Dry, dead cracklings beneath our feet.
Crushed and gone, totally lifeless.

The time has come to prune, to go deeper
To strenthen the roots to stand strong through the storms of winter.
(Coming from Arizona, this was all so new to me.)
The season of Winter is coming
Summer is over.
Where is the harvest? I must have missed it.
Where is the harvest? I can't see the harvest when I'm not in the fields.
Have I missed the harvest season
With nothing stored up for winter?
Fall is gathering time before EVERYTHING is dead.
I haven't much time left. Fall is upon me, and I didn't even see the signs.
Why plant and water if I won't prune and harvest?
Utter foolishness. And there is no harvest if you did not plant in the spring.

On Saturday, Michael and I went for an 8 mile bike ride. It was nice, but a little hot on the ride back. It's a good thing we turned back when we did, as it was uphill home and 82 degrees.

This morning we woke up to snow. That is what I love about Colorado. I love change. Variety is the spice of life, right? So Saturday we were enjoying the Indian Summer biking in the beautiful outdoors. The leaves were in an array of golden, red, yellow and other autumn colors.

Today I have a pot of soup on the stove, fresh bread baking in the oven, and the fireplace aflame. Outside the temperature is a brisk 34 degrees, with snow steadily falling. What could be better than this?

Humbled

I had 2 packages to mail. It was a quarter to 5 and I knew I had better get going. One was to my son at college, the other to my neice who is in the hospital. I wanted these out today. So off I went.

While driving through the neighborhood, I saw a firetruck returning to the station. Shortly afterwards, I noticed flashing lights behind me. Gosh, I better get to the side of the road so this officer can get by me. I quickly pulled over next to the fire station.

Imagine my surprise, as I glanced in my rearview mirror, and saw the officer had pulled up right behind me. Was I getting pulled over??? Oh my goodness! I have been driving for 27+ years and have never gotten a ticket. It's amazing how your mind races in just a few short moments. I have been telling my teenage kids about how I've never gotten a ticket, bragging I suppose. Hmmm...pride goes before a fall. The next thought was, gosh, maybe if I am nice and smile he will be merciful to me. I look in the mirror again, he isn't out of his vehicle yet.

Maybe he just happened to be in a hurry to get to the fire station. Maybe I'm not really being pulled over. How long should I wait before driving off? Oh wait, the door is opening. It's a female officer...I'm sunk! (What kind of attitude is that????)

I pull out my driver's license and unroll my window. The officer asks me if I know why I'm being pulled over. "Uhhh...no, I really don't."

"Well, you didn't make a complete stop at that stop sign back there."

Gosh, how many times have I told my kids how important it is to make complete stops at the stop signs. We have 3 of them in a row to get out of our neighborhood. I don't know how often I see cars blow right through them, hardly slowing down. I am always careful to completely stop.

"I am usually more careful, and honestly, I was in a hurry to get to the post office."

"Can I see your registration?"

I opened the glove box and grabbed the first piece of paper and handed it over.

"This is your proof of insurance, try the other one."

Fumbling again, I pull the other sheet out.

"I'll try to make this quick for you," and she began walking back to her vehicle with my license and registration.

I hang my head in shame as cars are passing. These are my neighbors. How many of them know me and are going to ask me about it later? How embarrassing to be one street away from your home and be facing the humiliation of breaking the law.

The officer hands me my paperwork and her business card. "I'll just give you a warning, but make sure you make a complete stop next time."

I drove away humbled and thankful.