Unshackled...Free to roam or Free to conquer

God continues to stir something deep within my spirit. Something that whispers to the depths of me that there is more. That the Church is not walking in the fullness of what God has offered us.

And I think that part of it...the *possessing it part*...begins with a renewal of our minds.

In the Old Testament, it talks of the Israelites coming out of bondage: Breaking free from the shackles that "the world" had put on them so that they could enter into the Promise of God. So that they could lay ahold of what God had already set aside for them.

We all know the story. It took them 40 years to get to the Promised Land. A journey that was, in all reality, something that could have been made in a few weeks. They grumbled. They complained. They returned to their old ways (making a golden calf).

Though they were Redeemed from slavery....though they were being accompanied by the very manifest Presence of God in their daily lives...though they were being provided for daily...though they were invited to come up into the Presence of God with Moses... They hadn't changed their mindsets. Therefore, in their hearts, they were still in bondage. And so, they opted to return to what they knew: slavery. Instead of being what they were called to: Kinship with the King.

Familiarity can kill Faith. For it takes a sacrifice of the familiar. of your comfort. of your very identity. To really step out in true faith.

Now...fast forward X number of years. Moses has died. God has called Joshua to "rise up" and be the new leader. And the first thing that God tells Joshua to do is cross the Jordan (essentially step into the Promise). He goes on to remind him that everywhere he sets his foot is his. This Heavenly Pep talk continues as he instructs Joshua three times to be strong and courageous...

Insert modern day confession: If this were me, I'd be a little bit frustrated. Okay, I'd be a WHOLE lot frustrated. I've lived in the "Wilderness" for a time. God sent me and my family there. He broke us. down to the foundations. It's a lovely little story with many whines and sobs from yours truly...and many hugs from the Father as he rips out roots to all sorts of stuff.

Needless to say, it wasn't fun. But I was only in that place for a year and a half. Oh believe me, it felt loooooooooonnnng. Don't doubt that! But my hopeful expectation, amidst that 1.5 years of wilderness was this: That there would be a "suddenly" of God. Where he would just come in and do something miraculous, to show us how proud he was of our obedience. That he would do something to alleviate the hardship! You know? Something!

But the Israelites were there for F-O-R-T-Y years. Making my 1.5 years seem like nothing.

So...I know that after 40 years of desert wandering... all the while knowing that God was leading us to the gates of this amazing Promise, I'd at least expect to get there and set up residency. Easy as pie. No more "fight" required on our part. Milk and honey here I come!

But it's not the normal way of the Lord, you know? Almost every place in the Bible where someone took ownership of the promise of God on their life, it came through years of tears, sweat, and/or blood. Why do I feel like I can bypass the work? the waiting? When did that become part of my thinking?

I'd be so bold as to say most normal people would have to think that after 40 years of circling round the desert, God would at least just hand over the Promised Land. I mean, hadn't the Israelites handled enough? After all, they ARE the Apple of His eye. Any good Daddy would want to see his children's misery come to an end, right? Uh. No. God wanted them to go and FIGHT for what he had already said was theirs.

Now doesn't that just go against everything that the majority of the American Church seems to believe? or at least put to practice? that very "entitlement" mindset that says we shouldn't have to fight for something...that if God has it set aside for us then, by all means, give it here.

I'm sure we can all think of things we've brought before God in prayer. And when we didn't get an immediate answer, we just *shrugged* and figured it was a useless fight. I mean, who wants to fight God?! And if God isn't intervening within the allotted time frame of 10 minutes, then it's obviously not important to Him.

WHERE did I get this mentality? Someone please tell me. Because I'd like to go return mine.

If we, as the modern day church, are going to have ANY impact on the world around us, we have got to get the "Fight" back. We've got to lay down the pacifist mindset that says we can't even war against the spiritual realm. We have got to pick up the weapons given us and TAKE what is rightfully ours.

Healings. Wisdom. SOULS.

I have got to. The very framework of the church today is depending on me actually being what God says I already am. of possessing what he says he's already given us. And I must fight for it. I must believe for it.

Try and wrap your brain around this testimony:

About 35 years ago, a little baby was born into a Brazilian family. He was a down-syndrome baby. The mother didn't know the first thing about that "disorder". Only what the doctors were telling her. And what they were saying was grim. They told her that nothing could be done. That there was no medical treatment. He would never be normal. It was just something that she had to accept.

Her response? No. I know a doctor who can heal it. He is the doctor of doctors. He is Jesus. She went home that night and had a conversation with God that went
something like this:

"Lord, thank you for this baby, for what he brings to this family. I love him. But if there is nothing that can be done for him, then I'd rather you take him. I know you can heal him. But I need a sign from you that you will heal him. If I come in here in the morning and he is still alive, then I will Know that you will heal Him."

Talk about audacious!! Most people would just look at her and say, "Come on!Yes, the kid is still alive because God wasn't going to take your baby! He just overlooked your stupid prayer and your feeble attempt at manipulating Him and ignored you. The nerve."

But that was not God heart.

Long story short. God healed that boy less than six years later. HEALED him. Completely. To the point that the same team of doctors that first presented the "hard facts" to the mom had to say "We just don't understand. We have one doctor holding his papers from when he was first born. Those tests show the chromosomal abnormality. Yet this doctor over here is holding the tests we just did a couple of weeks ago, and they show that there is no sign of any chromosomal abnormality anywhere. He has been healed."

God had to touch EVERY SINGLE one of his DNA in order to heal him. His mother believed for it. She fought against all sorts of opinions...all sorts of yearly tests that said her God had not healed her son. But she didn't allow the world and it's "reality based" view to keep her faith in bondage and define for her who God is. She just took Him at his Word.

"By his wounds you have been healed." 1 Peter 2:24

I was at a conference a few years ago and heard this man's testimony. And saw the amazing fruits of his life serving the Lord. I have it on audio cassette. And if I can find a way to duplicate it in mass, I am more than willing to send it to whomever. Or loan it out for those of you near by. His website is www.casadedavi.com.br Go under "trailer"...he's the bald guy with wire glasses playing the guitar and singing.

I have got to renew my mind. To fight for what God has set up before me as my Inheritance. Ready and waiting for the taking! To believe that God is who he says he is. To persevere for it. And yes, to be strong and courageous...just as God instructed Joshua.

"Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made the good confession..." 1 Tim. 6:12

I don't want to get to Heaven and hear, "But I had so much more for you, Christin. More than you could ever dream or imagine. It was there before you. Untouched."

Books Books and More Books

*Grandmama, this one is for you*

The girls love to read. They have obviously inherited yours (and their Daddy's) love of books. Trips to the library, especially the "Big Library" in a neighboring town are things the girls look forward to.

As you know, Charis has been learning to read for some time now. Yes, we've worked and worked on phonics, but the whole learning to read thing has just been something in which she seems to have a knack...

Being that she doesn't really nap anymore, she is allowed to read in bed for two hours. (sneaky of me, eh?) AND then in thanks to my friend, Leanne, she now gets to take a flashlight with her to bed at night, where she reads books until she gets tired. So all in all, she's reading to herself for well over two hours a day. Which means she gets a LOT of unpressured practice in sounding out words.

Well, this morning, I was in my room getting ready and I could hear Charis in her room reading from our "The Big Book of Questions and Answers" book. Well, apparently this whole "reading in bed program" has helped her reading to really take off! Because here is what I heard her reading:

"Question: Can a Turtle get out of its shell? Answer: When a turtle is turned over on its back, it probably wishes it could get out of its shell. Once a turtle is turned over, it is helpless. But a turtle cannot get out of its shell. The shell is a part of its body. In fact, the shell grows from a turtle's ribs. Without its shell a turtle will die."

I couldn't believe it!!! Yeah, there were a few words she had trouble with...like "without" and "once". BUT I couldn't be more proud of her!! And I knew you would be so proud as well! I figured that being far away and unable to hear her read, you'd appreciate this post. Maybe next time I'll be able to post a video of it all.

BTW: She asks to come and see you guys all the time now. Last night at dinner, she said "We need to go see Grandmama and Grandpa very soon, okay? Like tomorrow." :)

I've got the Joy Joy Joy Joy down in my heart

I love how JOY comes so easily for children. They just come with built-in giggles. ready-made smiles. and overflowing belly laughter.

Finding the Joy doesn't seem to be a too difficult task for them. And I SOOO love that about my girls. In any given day, they will ALL explode into uncontainable laughter over something I don't find remotely worth a small chuckle. How is that?

God, give me THAT type of joy. The kind that doesn't care if others find it funny. The kind of Joy that doesn't hinge itself on whether I find something humerous. The kind that, if for no other reason, just requires a good laugh. I want that, Lord. Just like my girls...

Here are some recent reasons for Joy around our house:

Ahh yes. There's nothing like getting your first-ever taste of Baby Rice Cereal. MMMmmm. Kind of like glue, in my opinion. But man, if it didn't make HER day!!

This is Selah, up close and personal, BEFORE...

DURING...
And AFTER. She loves a good spin. The kind where she can hardly stand up afterwards. :)
The girls plopped down in our front yard last night. They were inspecting the clouds. Watching them. Describing them. Bursting into peals of laughter over their "witty" narratives. ...all I could make out was that one of the clouds looked like a dog. With an incredibly large nose. Then...bursts of laughter made it hard to decipher anything else.

And yes, sometimes we have our sad moments. Moments where we feel like the other two sisters are ignoring us. (doesn't this picture just melt your heart?!)
But those moments are quickly forgotten...and JOY is once again restored...with a simple hug.

"I have told you these things, that My joy and delight may be in you, and that your joy and gladness may be of full measure and complete and overflowing." John 15:11

Kids, they just "get it". They allow Life to engage them. To empower them to laugh. To enable them to enjoy. All without trying. It just comes naturally. May it be so for us....the ones who have "grown up".

Like daughter, like ...Grandmother?

Ahh. My mom. How I love this woman. How I'm soo sure that she'd frown and say "Christin!" if she knew I had put a picture of her on here. Not because of privacy sake. But because she never likes her pictures. ...I don't know. I'm thinking she's a pretty one. "Especially" considering she's been a grandma for 17 years now! (see Mom, at least I didn't put your age)

But as pretty as I know she is, I just don't agree with what 1/2 of my church seems to think: That Charis (4) looks just like her. Huh?

I mean, I know Charis looks like the *insert my maiden name* side of the family. There's no doubt that my DNA seems to reign supreme when it comes to our children. (heh heh). But I just don't see it. Do you?

Of course, in my opinion...this picture doesn't really look a WHOLE lot like the "normal" Charis. She's WAYYYY posing here. So...?
But as far as personality...Charis is a LOT like my mother. And I have no complaints there! Here, they are praying together. Mom said something hurt and Charis came over and said "Let's pray for it."

Of course I, being the ever-so-spiritual one, ran to get my camera.

Lord, you know how your Word says that “I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God"? Well...Here, You can just think of me as your photographer. Mkay?

But regardless of whether I think Charis looks like Mom. I am so blessed to know that my daughters will grow up looking like Jesus...because of what they see IN my mom.

Once Upon A time....

At some point during my college career, my mom actually sent me a Berenstain Bear book...The In Crowd.

No, I wasn't having issues fitting in. I wasn't needing a pep talk on how to make friends. Or how to avoid the wrong people. She was just doing something that she had done for the large majority of my life.


Add to my Berenstein Bear book collection.


I have dozens. And dozens. As a child, I read them over and over and over again. They became a part of me. As Sister Bear and Brother Bear learned life lessons, those lessons would stick with me.

A quote from the movie "You've Got Mail" says it best. "When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does."

My husband and I can both attest to this fact. I can think of countless of books that I read over and over during my elementary school years that became the backbone to my independent streak...or my love of XYZ...or my wanting to be a tom-boy as a little girl.

And yes, I can even trace my love of organization back to a book. Which so happens to be of the Berenstain Bear collection. A book called "And the messy room".

I read and reread that sucker. I ingested it. I would turn the pages back and forth to compare the once messy room to the now ultra-organized abode. They had "throw away piles" and "give away piles." They had peg boards and shelves lined with labeled boxes. Everything had it's place. Ahhh...the sweetness of it all. ;)

So yes, all that to say that when Brother and Sister Bear had to fix their messy room, the urge to clean and organize my own room was birthed. I remember it.

And it seems that we have another up and coming "I've been changed by the Berenstain family" groupie. My daughter, Charis (4).

She's been reading "Forget their manners." Remember when I so lovingly mentioned our bout with Charis's Crusade to Mannerize the World? Well, it continues. And I'm thinking I have Mama Bear to thank.

She that chart? Yeah well...the other day she was telling me how she was going to make a list of all the things that people can do when they come over for her birthday party.
"Oh really?" I ask.

"Yes. Like they can sweep the porch stairs and..." She went on.

"Uh, honey. I don't think people are going to want to do those things when they come over for a party." As crazy as that is.

So, being the obedient daughter that she is, she tweaked the idea. I vaguely remember her telling me that she was going to write out a list of rules. And I think I may have come across them as I was gathering paper junk the other night. I ALMOST threw it away in my quest for absolving my house of ALL the paper trash made through out the day...but then I decided to see what it said. And I'm so glad I did! My husband and I laughed and laughed....

Can you read that? Allow me.

People Manners

A. When you play with your toy, you put your toy away.

And I'm thinking you can crack that one. But just in case:

Chew with your mouth closed.

So there you have it. The Berenstain Bear family strikes again. At least thats my take on it. Though later in life, she may look and me and say, "Mom?! You think I got my love for lists from an illustrated bear? *phst* Whatever. I got it from YOU. You and all your lists..."

:) Oh. Yeah. Maybe I have a bit of influence in the girl's life as well. But my bet is still with Mama Bear on this obsession. Uh, I mean developing characteristic.

But either way...I'm heading straight to the library to check out ALL sort of books. Books on how to fix computers. how to build space crafts. how to speak in 20 languages. I'm going to see if I can't utilize this little window of opportunity.

...And they lived happily ever after. ;)

You Know you live in a Redneck Town when...

... You pass by a yard where a flock (around 70) of Canadian Geese has landed and your daughter asks, rather skeptically:

"Well, are they real?!"

Camo and Lace

The Tomboy. The Priss. They're both girls, right? Though different, both are sweet-natured.

My girls seem to feel comfortable in both arenas. They both like to play with boys...and will hit them back accordingly. They both like to paint their nails and curl their hair...and will primp and twirl accordingly. They both are drawn, like magnets, to a pile of dirt or a puddle of mud. Regardless of the pink dress they may be wearing.

There is no girlie-girl in this house. There is no tomboy. They both are just free-spirits that act and react to their surroundings in whatever way their current emotions sway them. Sometimes they both are tree-climbing, dirt-bathing, bruiser girls. Sometimes they are princesses playing house with with dolls and pretend food. Sometimes one is the brute and the other one has decided to be the oh-so-delicate one who can't believe that her sister just threw a ball at her face. The nerve.

Well, This morning was a moment of polar opposites. At least for a brief second.

We were outside playing. Charis was walking around looking for flowers to pick for me. She was determined to make something pretty. She delicately hung onto her four itsy, bitsty buttercups. "Mommy, these are my flowers. They're for you."

Aw. Thank you, honey.

Selah, who was protectively gripping a bouquet of dirty sticks close to her chest, looked at me and said "These are my guns."

I think it took about 0.2 seconds for her to realize what she said. She quickly tried to cover it and said "I mean these are my flowers." She grinned this sheepish little grin.

I laughed and tried to get her to say what she had really said first. She denied it until I winked and said, "Did you say your guns?" She finally conceded and fessed up, laughing with me. I didn't even realize she knew what guns were!

Oh, how I love my girls. I love watching them grow up into little ladies. Waxing and waning between wanting to be a tough girl and wanting to be a princess with all the frills.

But you know what I love, amidst all the piles of bugs, flowers, body glitter, and rocks that they collect? I love that they don't accept having to be one or the other. I love that they have determined that they can easily be both. Because when all is said and done... A girl is a girl is a girl. Regardless of whether she's wearing camo or lace. And somehow I'm sure we'll be seeing them wearing both over the coming years.

*the clinking of glasses* Here's to girls donned in florescent pink...deer hunting with Daddy. *Cheers*

Ahhh...beautiful Captivity

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."

Most Christians are, at the very least, familiar with this Jeremiah 29:11 passage. It can be found on coffee mugs, framed prints, t-shirts, bookmarks. It's sometimes spoken like a "pick me up" when our circumstances are looking less than appealing. You lose your job. Well, no worries. God knows the plans he has for you. *slap on the back* Hang in there. Wait it out. Great things are to come.

And it is true. God does know. God DOES plan and think about every detail of our lives. There is a peace that comes when we *cling* to the Word. Because in it, we do find our hope for the future. But what about today?

Before all of that talk of the future greatness to come...before God speaks of giving us a coming hope. or restoring fortunes. or revealing himself to us. Before the well known scripture of verse 11 is: the list of the mundane, every day tasks. Did you know that? Perhaps not because they happen to leave that part off of the bookmark.

At the beginning of the 29th chapter of Jeremiah, it says that "These are the words of the letter which Jeremiah the prophet sent to....all the people who had been taken into exile." So God was essentially writing out a hopeful letter to his people in THIS day. Because, as exiles, they really, really needed to have a NOW, Today-kind-of-Peace to cling to. Wouldn't you agree?

But the thing that He offered them was this:

"Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters;
multiply there, and do not decrease."

And what do I get from reading that, you ask? That God wasn't concerned about their plight? That He was telling them to take a number and get back to him when their "70 years of exile" were up?
No.

I read it and simply hear that God's purposes are accomplished through the everyday tasks he has set before us. God's purposes are not...and cannot be...found in wishing about the future and what will be. For He calls himself I AM. Not I Will Be. Yes, he says that a people without a vision perish. So yes, looking ahead has its value and its place. But you can't live life fully in this hour if you are fully engaged in dreaming about tomorrow. You need to walk out the tasks of the day. TODAY.

As a stay-at-home mom, these words ring especially hopeful to me. As I sometimes find myself pinning away for what will be:
When my children get older, then I'll be able to....

When my husband has finished school, then we have...

When we are finally done fixing up this house, then we'll get....

When...blah blah blah blah

But here, in black and white, God is instructing his Chosen Ones to go about their daily lives. Building up their houses...Whether physical houses or figuratively speaking, spiritual ones.
Planting gardens. Again, whether physical ones or spiritual ones..."You will reap what you sow."
Birthing generations of family. whether that family shares your genetic DNA. Or whether they are related only through Christ's blood.

Daily tasks. Accomplished only by small steps.

Building a house takes time. Any one who has built anything as big as a doghouse knows that there is MUCH involved. Many boards. Many individual nails. Many hits on that individual nail into that single 2X4 board.

It takes time. Daily. Purposefully. Intentionally. Before the entirety of the house is completed.

Just like remaining home with my girls. Because there are days when I feel like throwing up my hands and screaming "What is the point, Lord? What good am I doing here? Reading the same book over and over again? Teaching the same 'do not hit' lesson? Changing the same diaper. (Well, okay. not the SAME diaper. But you get the point. *wink*) What good am I doing, God?! Because seriously, I'm seeing nothing of substance here. At least not by the world's standard of success!"

And the Lord, in all his faithfulness, will whisper peace to my heart. And I'll get a glimpse of how fast time gets away from us...how fleeting these moments with my YOUNG girls are...how every moment of time spent with them is another nail driven into the framework of their being. The very thread of their confidence. The very foundation of their walk as a Child of God.

I don't think it's any coincidence that Jesus was a carpenter. He builds things. He builds dreams. He builds up people. And for some amazingly profound reason, he has entrusted me with the hammer, the nail, the level, ...and all the tools in His carpentry kit. So that, day by day by day by day, I can begin to build up my girls.

And in the process of the "drudgery" of the daily grind, I can trust...though at times it's only by blind faith...that his purposes for MY life are being accomplished.

That as I walk in daily obedience, completing the "mundane" with purpose. With intentionality. With unexplainable joy. And yes, with a heart full of hope for things that I am yet to see in my little girls. ...and for things that I am yet to receive from the Hand of my Lord. I will be walking into all the Fullness of God.

SO today, I hold His Hammer and Chisel (and the girls' Dr. Seuss book set) in my hand. So that I can continue to build up these three precious daughters of the King. Knowing that when my "captivity" is up...my eyes will be opened to the greatness of all these years lovingly set aside for me and my kids.

May it be so. Amen and amen. *wink*

For all my Just-turned Mom friends out there:

I'm proud to report that I've officially lost 5 of the nagging 15 I'm-no-longer-in-my-20s-and-just-had-five-pregnancies-in-under-four-years pounds. Ah yes. Allow me to revel in my incredible feat.

Of course, if you add in the fact that it was over the timeframe where the "24 hour flu bug" hit our house like a typhoon, the whole celebration thing kind of loses it's ba-da-bing capabilities.

Yay me. I can lose 5 pounds when I only eat toast and yogurt. Shocking.

And then add in the lovely aspect of cleaning up after The Sisters, whose competitive nature drove them to out-do each other in The-number-of-times-humanly-possible-to-throw-up-in-one-hour Race. Obviously any appetite I did have is *poof* gone.

So yeah. IF you add that in. Maybe it's not so grand of an accomplishment. My measley five pounds.

OR for those of you reality-based minded people (aka pessimistic)...IF you take into account the fact that my scales have a multiple personality disorder, that too may detract from the glorified Weight Loss Event.

Allow me to explain. I'm yet to enter into the 21 century and buy a digital scale. Therefore, I still have one of those ones with "the pointer"...where you have to make sure that said pointer is pointing to Zero before stepping on. Yep. One of them things.

I hop aboard the platform of that antique and ***lbs comes up.

Huh. Surely that can't be, I say.

Well *cracking knuckles and losening up my neck* I step back on.

Because the good thing about my handy-dandy scale is that If I'm not fully satisfied with that weight, I can always hop back on 5 seconds later for a different reading. For a *LESS* amount. Who knew counting to 5 could be considered such rigourous exercise as to shed 5 lbs right there on the spot. Hmm.

SO...if you must take THAT into account of my recent pounds shed...along with my strict diet of card board, diet water, and cleaning up after other's attempt at weight loss...then maybe you can no longer rejoice with me in my "I finally lost 5 pounds" dance.

BUT, since we're adding all sorts of angles to this...I have be fair and say, I've been walking miles and miles a day for the last FOR-E-VER. So maybe that finally kicked in? Because last time I REALLY did lose 5 lbs, it came suddenly. There was no: Lost 1...Lost 2...3...4...

Nope. It all came at once. And stayed off. So maybe? Crossing my fingers. my arms. my legs. anything that can be crossed...

eh. Who knows. All I know is that LAST I weighed myself (and I did it four times in a row to figure in the multiple personality card), I had lost FIVE pounds. Hallelujah. Now...only 10 more to go. And then...*glory be*...I have a real wardrobe of hip and in-style clothes awaiting me.

I may very well *burn* these three pairs of pants that I currently am able to wear. :D That's right. Be afraid you white capris, jean capris, and hand-me-downs from my neighbor. You may feel the lovin' now. But that may soon come to a very violent end.

And if I'm really feeling bold and daring, I may even go for Gold and throw out ALL of my Pre-pregnancy, Pre-nursing, Pre-everything that has done a number to my...*clearing throat*...upper body. And buy bras that really fit. *somewhere angels sing the Hallelujah chorus* Oh. Now how's that for living large?

Jet honey...I know if you're reading this, you're shaking your head. Yes yes, I know. But in all fairness, you knew before you married me that I was an "all out there" type person. eh. What can you do? *shrug/wink*

Family Visit

My husband's family consists of 4 boys and 2 girls. Most of them got to come for a visit on Sunday. *Crazy times* One sister and her family were missing. As well as one brother and his wife, though his two children came down with Grandmama and Grandpa.
There are NINE grandchildren aged 6 and under: 5 girls and 4 boys. And I'm sure the number will continue to grow over the next couple of years! One of the grandchildren...the 4 year old Texas girl...is missing here. As I'm sure you can guess, the kids had a blast!!!! Playing. Running. Swimming. Terrorizing. :) I love that my girls have cousins so close to their age. I didn't have that growing up. But Jet, on the other hand, has more cousins that I am able to know. Jet and I counted his first cousins once...I'm pretty sure the number was somewhere in the upper 50s.

Though we probably won't end up with THAT many first cousins for our girls, I'm so glad that they do have all these built-in friendships to grow up with.

We can't wait to see you guys again soon! xox

Science Lab...in our own home

Maybe your yard is like mine... full of the empty "shells" of Cicadas. My daughters have been finding, and collecting them, by the dozens. By the buckets full. In the grass. On the trunk of the tree. Still clinging to the leaves of a limb. They were thrilled to hear about the process of the cicada...and see the end result. The empty shell.

Until Selah yelled, "This one is MOVING!" Sweet! She had found one that was yet to shed it's shell! Telling her to keep an eye on it, I ran inside and got a pitcher. We had high hopes of being able to watch the adult cicada emerge from the larvae shell. :)

But it wasn't to be. The next morning, the adult cicada was there to greet us. Bum-mer.
Fast forward a few days. The girls are outside collecting more of the cicada shells, when Selah yells "Another one!!" *shrug* Okay, why not? So we get the pitcher-turned-aquarium, set up home for the bug, and bring it inside. They name it "Shiny". :) We figure, if nothing else, the girl just get the before-and-after-cicada-nature study again. No biggie.

But 15 minutes after the girls were down for the night, I happened to walk through the room where Shiny was setting up house. And Thank you Jesus! He was starting to wriggle his way out!! I sprinted upstairs, threw open the door to the girl's bedroom, and ran over to the bunk bed. They were all over it! We all ran down the stairs to become Shiny's own personal Welcoming Committee.

Had I looked at the bug 5 minutes later, it would have been too late. There wouldn't have been enough time. Thanks, Lord! Kind of sweet of you to provide us with a hands-on Science lesson, since we JUST started Homeschooling.

"Shiny" makes a break for it. The girls are fascinated!! ...as are Jet and I, since We've never seen this either!
"It fell! He just fell out!" The little guy is just laying there. THIS must be the reason why they instinctively know to come out at night. Lowers their chances of being bird feed. Cle-ver.
The girls are firing questions left and right about the process. We got to watch as the wings unfurled. And as the legs started to work. They didn't want to go back to bed. Shocker. :)
I'm LOVING that they got to see this!

AND just yesterday, my oldest nephew found a butterfly cocoon!! I've been WANTING to find one of those for the girls. I even went so far as to try and see if there was some place where I could order one off the Internet. No luck. But thanks to my nephew's keen observational skills as he was weeding Grandma's flower beds...we have one! Free of charge. Thanks, Justin!!

Today we'll set that up in a real aquarium...hopeful that we'll be able to watch the butterfly emerge, just as we did the cicada.

If this is the way that God's going to provide for us during our Homeschooling years...there's no telling the adventure we'll get to have!

7 year Anniversary

*Davene*...this one is for you. All those years of us talking about "the man", I wanted you to know how God ended up writing my love story. :) Everyone else, it's really long. And it may bore you to tears. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Seven years ago today, I met my husband, Jet.

Valerie, a YWAM friend that I hadn't seen for two years, had invited me to come up and visit her. Prior to my coming, she hopped aboard the ever famous "get-Christin-hooked-up" bandwagon. Ah yes, she, too, had someone she wanted me to meet. Despite my "back off Valerie" attitude, she described the guy in great length. I said No way. Period. Doesn't sound like my type, thanks anyway. Moving on. Except she didn't. (She's Italian and persistent...did I mention that?)

Finally after a few telephone conversations, I got her to see that I wasn't kidding. The guy really didn't sound like me. He sounded, strangley enough, like her type. :) So...being the determined friend, she said. "Well, I know someone else."

At this point as I talked to Val on the phone, I distinctly remember rolling my eyes at my roommate, Suzie. (Suz knew firsthand how I wasn't into dating OR being fixed up.) "His name is Jethro, he's...." I laughed outloud and started to rip on my beloved's name, making the obvious comparison to the Beverly Hillbillies. *hee hee* Valerie, being a little annoyed with me and my anti-guy attitude, said "Christin! It's not like the boy dips snuff and has no teeth. Trust me!"

Whatever. After hanging up the phone, I looked at Suzie and said, I quote, "Yeah, after all that, watch me come back in love with a guy named Jethro." I started to laugh with Suzie, but stopped short. In fact, I remember literally stopping in my tracks. I felt the Holy Spirit say "Yeah...what if?" Needless to say, I kept that tidbit of information to myself.

So...August 20th, 2000, I leave my apartment at 4 in the morning, having no clue that my life is getting ready to be drastically changed forever.

First thing Valerie did when we walked into church that morning was point out Jet. He wasn't hard to find; he was leading worship. First thought in my mind "Good Lord! Does no one know my type?!" (insert: can I BE any more of a punk?! *grin*) But as the worship service started, I found myself watching him between songs. But only because my friend Valerie saw something in him that made her think of me. Well...at least after she thought of what's-his-name. ;)

Ironically, Jet's parents sat behind me, in a church service of 500. I met them during one of those "now meet someone you haven't met before" things.

Long story short, Val and I ended up going to lunch with Jet and two other guys. Quite the small group. (All the other young people had a meeting after church) But for some reason, even admist my "he is NOT my type" thinking, I was glad for the chance to get to know him on such a personal level. Something about him intrigued me. Or was it that I knew I intrigued him? *smile* All during lunch, I could tell his eyes were on me. Nothing that made me uncomfortable or anything. Jet was completely sweet. Nothing about him was flirty or abrasive. And I loved that.

And then half-way through lunch...

Valerie dropped the conversational bombshell. She brought up the fact that I was a public speaker. Elbowing me playfully, she said, "Tell them what you speak about Christin." Laughing nervously, I tried to blow her off. Not because I was embarrassed about what I did. But because I didn't really think it was a topic of conversation that I wanted to go into right then and there. But Valerie pressed on. "She does Sex Talks."

I wish I could freeze time and capture the looks that awaited me at the table. Three guys. All sitting and facing Val and I, suddenly turn to me....

This is the part of the "How I met Jet" that makes me laugh. And gets a little hard for me to remember clearly enough to write about. Have I mentally blocked it out for self preservation sake? Or did it all happen so fast, I just can't recall the details? *laughing* Who knows. But Valerie definitely got everyone's attention.

Before Val could open her mouth again, I laughed and told them I spoke in schools and universities about sex. I explained a little bit more and the conversation moved to something else. ...this would later come back to haunt me...

But somehow despite that bit of *shocking info*, I later found out that one of the guys was telling Jet that he needed to not let me get away. On my end, Valerie was saying the exact same thing. But this time, I wasn't fighting her quite as hard; he did intrigue me. ...she all about the "I told you so". ;)

Over the next few hours, stuff happened that made me sit up and take notice of him and his integrity and his heart and his talent... To the point that when we all left for someone's house for dinner, I was sad that he wasn't coming along. Apparently the guy had a life outside of me! *the nerve*

He was leading worship for some baptism thing. You'd think he'd have priorities and all. I mean, HELLO! Getting to know "New Girl"...vs. Serving the Lord. Apparently, he didn't see the dilemma. So yeah, he chose serving the Lord. Which, by the way, made me like him all the more. And off to the girl's house I go, secretly waiting for him to show up....

At this point, I have to be honest and say this was all foreign ground to me. I had chosen not to date for a LONG time (long story, another time), so the fact that I was entertaining thoughts about when he would show up was completely taking me off guard. AND the fact that I wasn't even sure if I was physically attracted to him was driving me crazy. ...a mental battle was raging in me. "Christin, you're not attracted to him. You don't KNOW him. What gives?!" Seriously, I was stumped. If you knew me the slightest amount during that season of my life, you'd know that "school girl whatever" over guys was so not me. Yet, I couldn't explain it; I was drawn to him.

And then he came. People announced that he just pulled up, and immediately my heart went crazy. "What is happening to me?! Calm Down! Calm down! Try to look casual." I still remember every detail of when he walked into the room. My first thought...after "try not to stare"... was "He IS hot. And he's got nice legs" Immediately followed by a sigh of relief; I wasn't being drawn to an ugly person. Thank God. *laughing*

As the night progressed, the attraction became more and more of an unavoidable force. Especially when he continued to give me space when other guys were falling all over themselves trying to get my attention. He was the epitomy of gentleman. And THAT was as sexy as it gets. I was hooked.

Unfortunately, that's where it ended. He ended up taking some bum without a car home early (yeah, I was inwardly annoyed at that person.) and never came back...But my heart was awakened. Even if my mind had no clue what had just happened.

A few days and a million conversations with Valerie later, I write Jet an email. Because it hit me, on my 4 hour long drive home, that I had never once explained that my "Sex Talks" were on abstinence and purity...not "How To" workshops. Whoops.

I laughed outloud when I thought of it...but I had to wonder what he must've thought. Valerie encouraged me to email Jet...to explain...and ease my conscious. And of course, I wasn't too bummed to have contact with the guy again. Though I have to say, the email content wasn't what I would have chosen. "Um yeah, remember me? Yeah well...I'm I speak about purity not...other things."

But if that wasn't bad enough, Val gives me what she thinks is his email address. Along with the verbal aside "Well...it could be his dad's email. They all have the same initials." "Excuse me!? Um, Valerie. This would be KEY information. Must have correct male. Sending a 'sex talk explanation' to Jet's dad would really be counterproductive, don't ya think?" Seriously, I was a little panicked on this end. ;)

But all was well. It was Jet's email.... We wrote over the next few months.... Which is a WHOLE nother story in and of itself. And then he came to visit me, mid-September. (Second time we had ever seen each other and by this time we were completely in love, even though neither of us could quite remember what the other one looked like!). And then he promptly left the country. :) On a missions trip to Columbia. He got back and then, I promptly left the country. On a missions trip to Romania. And THEN we saw each other again. for the third time.

We were engaged by that February. Married that June. I had known the guy 10 months by the time we were married. And it's been an unbelievably amazing ride. :)

And THAT, my friends, is the way I met the love of my life. I still joke with Jet (and Valerie) that one day I'll have to tell my children that I really got to know their dad all because I wanted to make sure he knew I wasn't a how-to sex girl. Ahh...gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn't it? *grin/wink*

Camping-Take 2

For you that still care about some of the ins and outs of our camping trip. Here's a few more tidbits (ie. those of you that are related to these cute little girls).

Camp Arrival:

After following the little "guide man" on his golf cart to our designated spot, we all just stood there and stared. ...A small bit of yard. Tiny. Surrounded by what seemed to be to be a trailer park. There were that many RVs. Our "neighbors" called it Suburbia.

Thankfully, the lot next to ours was vacant, so it did feel open. As the kids could run around like crazy people and not bother anyone. :)

One thing that Leanne and I had been joking about was that she was bringing the itty-bity tent and I was bringing the luxury hotel. She said she didn't care as long as she didn't hear me say "Okay girls, it's time to go upstairs to sleep." *laughing* No, it did not have a second story. That much I could attest to. But it was a beast...it had three "rooms". Uh-huh. It was one of those.

But instead of setting up luxury tent right away, we decided to go swimming. Being that the had 40 minutes until pool closed. Maybe not the wisest thing to do...go off and play while our fire and tent go undone... but this was for the kids. They wanted some pool action! :)

They had a blast! My girls don't get to a pool often...so they were really timid at first. But by the next day, I was having a hard time keeping them in my sights. They'd go off by themselves (the water was shallow...they were walking it).

Charis's look of determination to brave the water. While, of course, armed with floaties.
Jet loving the fact that he had some boys to play with.
She only had to be convinced to do it once. And then she wouldn't stop.
I love how she can get away with hiney cheeks all showing. You just want to squeeze her. These pictures were taken in the dark. I couldn't see a thing in my camera lens!

And yes, we put the tent up in the dark. And when I say "we", I obviously mean Jet. I did, though, blow up the air mattresses. Just in case any of you think that I stood around filing my nails. :) But swimming first was well worth it. All of the kids were worn out and mine were actually asking to go to bed! Though that could have been because their bedtime is 7:30 and it was 11:30. Hmm...novel thought.

Despite the dogs barking, people talking loudly, children crying...my girls slept straight through the night. ...with their ocean sound noise maker. Yes, again one of those "luxury items" that I refused to leave at home. Another thing that I'd suggest you take with you.


I, on the other hand, did not sleep. For fear of someone falling off the mattress (which happened, twice) or fear of Raegan waking up and wanting to be fed (which happened many times). I was so tired during some of it, I could hardly sit up. :)
But we survived the night and are sooo happy! Raegan ended up sleeping in the car seat!
In order to prove that I was on the trip, Jet picked up the camera and took a shot. Too bad it was right after I woke up. Looking oh-so-pretty. Thanks, hon. *slap slap*
Breakfast...cereal, fruit, and doughnuts. These girls never doughnuts (except on birthdays). But oh well...we're living large.

I still don't know why Charis was so thrilled that we were starting a fire. Selah, on the other hand, couldn't look more bored with life.
And yes! we did do Morning Smores. Apparently from the look on the girls' faces, it's an Art that must be performed with utmost concentration and care.

And finally...the guys. Like I said, I didn't take the time to photograph much. It was nice while I was enjoying camping, but not so nice now that I want to have fun pictures for the girls to remember.

But these are the three guys that my girls love so much. They keep begging to go back to the Camp Site with them. Charis even said that she wants her hair to be cut like theirs. Now That, my friends, is love. :)

So there you have it, the camping trip WAS a hit because my girls couldn't have loved it more.

Did I say that?

The end result of my slight oversight.

We have hugely expensive non-stick cookware. Apparently, we need to cash in on our Lifetime Warranty. Because our eggs stuck.

So I, being the keenly impressive housewife, let them sit over night. Completely forgetting about them. Until this morning.

Huh. Well...lets just put some water in that, stick it on the stove, bring it to a boil, and then watch as the hardened eggs come right off. Easy at that. Ah yes, what a brilliant woman my husband is married to.

Except that I didn't add into my genius equation one defining thing: the fact that I am highly distractable and surrounded by highly distracting girls.

*elapse an unknown amount of time as I was called upstairs by the screaming of my child*

As I came back downstairs, there is dark grey smoke billowing everywhere. I yell a few things I wish I hadn't. Looking at the pan on the stove, knowing that it could burst into flames at any moment, I grab ahold of it and jerk the door to a back porch open. Throw it on a cement patch...so as to not cause any the grass to go up in flames...and hose it down with our handy-dandy water hose beside the cement slab.

I'm sure at this point that my neighbor is outside in his shed. But out of politeness for me, is remaining quietly inside it. If only my girls could have had the same mindset. Instead they come out the backdoor, loudly asking, "Mommy, what's Shit mean?!" over and over.

*big sigh* Ah yes. What a lovely moment.

Seriously, I'm not one to use vulgar language. But of course, out of ALL the other things that my girls could have picked up on...the smoke that was filling the house, the pan that was sizzling outside, my obvious horror...they would hone in on the one word they've never heard before.

Ahh, such is the life of a parent. You have yourself fooled into thinking that you are the one that is watching out for their slip-ups...to help mold them into "good, upstanding" people. But it's really the other way around. THEY will be the ones that pick up on your slip ups and present them to you...and everybody else within earshot.

Note to self: Never walk out of the kitchen when something is on the stove...preparing to boil. And practice saying "Oh Glory!" over and over again so that the next time I walk into a room that is about to burst into flames, that will come out of my mouth instead...

A Stirring in my soul...like a pebble thrown into the waters

Do you ever just get the sense that God has you in the process of being chiseled? Actually, I guess that's the wrong word. Because, to me, that sounds painful. Traumatic. Gorey, even. And that's not what I mean.

I've sat here a while and come up with the conclusion that I lack the word to describe his gentle, yet intense method. All I know is what I feel.

Emotions are being carved...deepened. Like He's taking the shallow waters and causing them to have Ocean Depths. Places that have laid dormant in my heart... whether from my own "walling over" or because timing has never allowed them to come forth...they are now erupting from within. Like volcanoes that have suddenly come out of dormancy. My senses are being heightened. My walls are coming down. My ability to remain indifferent is fast losing all footing.

That is where I find myself. That is what's taking place in me.

I cannot explain it. I'm not sure that I want to try. All I know is that the Lord's heartbeat echoes inside of me. I feel it. Though I lack the words to contain it.

"Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? It is higher than heaven--what can you do? It is deeper than Sheol--what can you know?" Job 11:7-8

I'm finding I've been doing a lot of crying recently. And not because I'm sad. But just because of the intensity of feeling. Does that make sense? No. I doubt it can on paper alone. But it remains Truth. The mysterious kind that go deeper than the English language....that reveals the limitations of my mind.

As I read people's blog about the love they have for their husband...or the relationship they have with their daughters... Or as I watch Mercy Me's video "I can only imagine".... Or watch people whole-heartedly, unabashedly worshipping before God... Sobs well up from deep inside me. I am filled with an intensity of feeling that I cannot explain, except to assume that it's the Heartbeat of God. That I am getting the priviledge of feeling an iota of the love and emotion He has for His people. For me. For the things He's getting ready to do.

There's an expectancy in me that is becoming more and more intense. My heart cries out, Lord, what are you wanting to do? I desire to position myself to receive his Outpouring. to position myself to honor Him alone.

And I have to wonder. God, how is it that You are able to remain veiled? I know you have to be exercising some major self-control to not just *Break Out* and pour our your Presence. I have to assume you are MORE "antsy" to reveal Yourself than we are to experience you on a new level.

I've prayed and seen the lame get up and walk.

I've prayed and watched as an huge, infected boil disappeared right before my eyes.

I've experienced You, Lord. I've seen, with my natural eyes, You move on a real and personal level.

And yet...I sense that You have something more around the corner. I sense that you are preparing me...expanding and strengthening my heart...so that I can receive the depth and the height and the wonder of what it is that you are wanting to do. I can only assume that you are preparing the entire Body (church).

An explosion is taking place in my heart. I'm so curious to see what's happening in Yours, Lord.

"...that you being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fulness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, to him be glory..." Ephesians 3:18-21

Deepen us, Lord. And then fill us to capacity. Not simply for us to remain full. But so that we can spill over on those around us. So that you may be Glorified on this earth. ...as it is in Heaven.

Cookie Tip

One hour after making my butter laden cookies (see post below), I came across this "Make it Healthier" tip in a magazine. What convenient timing for me. But maybe I can spare you the additional calories this little tip says it saves when making a traditional chocolate chip cookie recipe.

"Cut the sugar in half and replace one stick of butter with 1/4 cup of mashed bananas. It will save you a 1,361 calories per batch"

Grant it, I haven't tried it out yet, as I still have a whole batch of the extra fattening kind. :) Therefore, I can't attest to its taste. But just in case you like cookies with less fat and want to give it a go.

Ingredients of Life

Have you ever been making something and left out a key ingredient?

This afternoon, while the girls were napping, I decided to surprise them by making a family favorite: oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I was throwing ingredients in left and right, trying to get it all done before it was time to start dinner preparations. Mixing like a fiend. Giving my arm a good workout while I worked that spoon round and round.

Finally, I added the chocolate chips. Ahhh, the best part. Now time to try to batter. Yes, I like to live on the wild side. I laugh in the face of salmonella.

Hold on. *insert sounds of spitting batter out* The batter tasted a lot like butter. Ew.

Now, grant it...the recipe did call for TWO whole sticks of the stuff but it's never tasted like that before. Everything about it was gross. Texture. Taste. The Thought of what I was ingesting.

Then I looked over the recipe again. Add Flour. Huh...there on my kitchen counter sat the new bag of flour still sealed closed. Oh. I guess I forgot that stuff.

Allow me to remind you that I had already "finished" the mixture. The oatmeal and the chocolate were already mixed in. So I struggled for the next while trying to get the flour...one of the key ingredients...to mix in. What should have been an easy thing, had I done it at the right time, turned out to be a near impossible task. It just wouldn't blend in. Yet, if I left it out, the cookies would have been a disaster. Inedible. Flat. Disgusting.

In the Bible, the Psalmist speaks again and again of rising early to talk with God. Early in the morning will I rise up and seek thee! Why early? I think it's because if I do it out of order...like I accidentally did with the flour...the whole mix of my day will be harder. I'll spend a better part of my day striving to make things work. And if I leave out that key ingredient all together. The aroma... the taste...the appeal will be all wrong.

And my day will be a far cry from what it was intended to be.

As a mom of a new baby, I tend to be really lax about getting up early to spend time with Jesus. I figure, I've been up all throughout the night. He knows that. He won't hold it against me. He can wait.

But as I stood there, wrestling to get the batter and the flour to mix like it was supposed to...knowing that if I didn't do it, the batter would be trash...the thought occured to me: Getting up early is not about "appeasing" God. It's more about making sure my day doesn't end up as something worthless.

A lot like my batter...without the flour.

All for the Love of a Daughter with a Rash

A trip to the doctor's office. Raegan has had a stubborn rash (for a month). It needed to be looked at. And the office said (when I called them Friday) that she could get her shots during her walk-in appointment, if I came on Monday.

The last time we tried to get a walk-in appointment, we waited for well over an hour. We were never seen. Though Raegan had fallen asleep, I couldn't continue to wait. They said four people were in front of me on the list. That meant the possibility of another hour. It was lunch time. nearing nap time. and the time when even good little girl's ability to remain calm and collected runs out.

This morning I had planned to get there earlier, to avoid the long wait. I woke the girls up. Gave them clothes to put on. Got everybody out the door and in the car in record time. I didn't get a chance to eat. There was no time. I was on a mission.

8:00 --Doctor's Office Waiting room. I walk in the door exactly a half-hour after the Walk-ins have started. The room is filled to capacity.

8:03 Selah (3) pulls up her dress and loudly announces "Uh-oh. I don't have any underwear on!" The woman sitting next to Selah looks at me and smiles. I smile and shrug, trying to console Selah, telling her it was an honest mistake. But please keep your dress down.

This adds extra burden to The Mom, who now has to:
1. Entertain two very active girls
2. Try to keep a 5 month old content in a waiting room jam packed with grouchy, sick people
3. Monitor very active 3 year old, making sure she does not maneuver her body in any way that will reveal the fact that she's not wearing any underwear, hence mooning every one in the room.

8:15 I pull out the activity book that I brought along. The girls work together to do the pages.

8:17 I warn them that if they fight, I take it.

8:20 I take it. Re-explain to them the rules of sharing. Give them one more chance to prove to me that they can use it without arguing.

8:45 All the girls are doing amazingly. Other people are even commenting on their being well behaved. I am very proud.

8:46 Raegan starts to fuss. I pick her up and start to rock. I know she's hungry. I know she's tired. I scan the room for a private place to nurse.

9:00 One hour has passed. They finally call my number. But it's a trick. The receptionist only takes down my daughter's name and tells me to sit back down. I ask where I can nurse. She tells me "We have a bathroom. Or go down the hall and there are some seats out of the way."

Obviously, I'm not going to use the BATHROOM to nurse my child. The only seat in there is the toilet. Do you eat in the bathroom? Um. No. Seriously, the thoughtlessness of some people shocks me to silence at times.

I go to the furthest corner to nurse. I am a very discreet nursing mom. Collectively, I've nursed babies for a total of 30 months and still counting. I've had to learn how to nurse in public places without being immodest. In fact, I doubt most people can even tell I'm nursing.

But in this situation, it's obvious that I'm going to nurse. Because I just moved down to the "hall" away from our normal seats. My child is now screaming a piercing scream. And I am placing her blanket on top of me and her. It's obvious that some thing's getting ready to happen. Just by power of deduction alone.

A man across the room will not look away. I stare back. He doesn't seem to get the hint.

An older woman looks up at me in disgust. Even though I smile, she just looks away, back to her novel. With her frown still in place, she turns another page. I look to her ring finger. Yup. Nothing there. So maybe this crotchety old woman is alone in life. Has no children. Never had to nurse them. And just doesn't understand.

I try to feel compassion.

9:10 Selah announces for the FOURTH time that she has to go potty. Lovely. I abruptly stop nursing Raegan...now that she's settled in and not fighting the blanket covering her head anymore.

9:11 We leave the bathroom. Selah, as it turned out, was mistaken. Again. She didn't have to go potty. I opt to not start nursing Raegan again, in hopes that she'll think that she's done.

9:30 Raegan remembers that she's not finished nursing. I start to rock her profusely. Crotchety Old Woman has now changed seats in order to avoid close proximity with Fussy Baby. ...To the rocking chair beside the one she was in. Apparently she didn't see the other empty seats across the room. Far Far Away.
Charis whispers "Mommy, I really really love you."

I want to loudly announce to woman in rocking chair that my children, aged 4 and under, have been sitting very still for AN HOUR AND A HALF. That I am extremely proud of the way they've behaved. But I continue rocking and saying nothing. Except for the ever present: "Selah, keep your dress down!"

9:35 Charis says, "Mommy, I really like you." I take note that her feelings for me are taking a downward spiral at a rapid rate. I wink at her. She's trying so hard.

9:40 I debate leaving. But I know I can't. I did that last time... I needed to wait it out.

9:45 One hour and 45 minutes since the time I entered the doctor's office, the nurse finally calls our name. In the time that it takes to stand up and ask my girls to follow me, the nurse is gone. I stand in the middle of the waiting room, circling around, looking at all the different doors she could have ducked into. Did I imagine hearing Raegan's name? A woman who had been there with us, from the beginning, stands up and holds Door #3 open for me. "Do you want to come through?" I want to hug her.

9:47 Nurses takes Raegan's vital signs. Raegan laughs loudly at everything they do. They declare her a wonderful child. I fight the urge to ask if I can get that in writing...you know, to take as proof to Crotchety Old Woman.

10:00 Doctor comes in. Looks at Raegan's fiery red rash that covers her belly button. diaper area. and mouth corner. Declares Raegan just "keeps yeast". Tells me that we'll have to try something other than the medicine she prescribed 2 months ago.

10:01 Doctor leaves. I stand there wondering what just happened. I pack up to go.

10:10 Nurse comes in with the prescription, smiles, and says that they can't give Raegan her shots, like I was told. "Go to the front desk and schedule another appointment."

I smile back. Because I sincerely am happy. To finally be going home.

Camping- Take 1

Excuse me a moment while I stretch. You see, it takes some maneuvering in order to pat myself on the back. Therefore I must be limber.

Ah, yes. *cracking my knuckles* Camp-with-6-Children-aged-5-and-under-Trial-Run has officially come and gone. And I, my dear friends, am still alive. And not only that. I'm already looking forward to next time!! ...which, by the way, is looking like it may be this fall!? Who knew this Momma was Camper Extraordinaire?

Well, okay. So that's stretching it a little. Or...a lot. But I am alive and in one piece. No one can deny that celebratory fact!!

But before I go any further, I must insert a little Addendum to my last post (see below):

Leanne's boys are not abusive. They are just really really really 100% male. They like full-contact play, as you do when you are testosterone-laden. They are not mean spirited. They genuinely DO like my girls. And they do have communicational skills that include something other than fists. Sooooo....while they have been known to "help" my girls down to the ground, it's all been in the spirit of playful fun. My girls have flourished under this WWF style of peer tutelage and I did not intend to insinuate that they were horrible little boys whose not-to-distant futures included Juvenile Detention. (How's that, Leanne? You love me again? Because, you know, if you got any issues, we could just take this outside. *laughing* Ahh, you know I love you and that motley crew of yours. *tease*)

Yes. This is the back of my car. Almost packed. My husband, Jet, was still able to cram a box of food and some other random things in there. Take note of the blow-up bed box. Uh huh. True roughing it gal over here. Though I have to say, even my Experienced Camper, MacGyver-incarnate husband enjoyed that little luxury. I'm thinking that beauty will be coming to every single solitary camping trip we make.

So last we "talked", I was lamenting the mass packing job that was required to spend a night elsewhere with children. Especially if that "elsewhere" included the Great. Out. Doors.

Well, whereas I'm sad to say that no one bestowed upon my Prepared Self a metal of honor...I did end up using the majority of stuff that I packed. All except the medicine junk. and I will not complain about that little baggie being kept sealed! And yes...even that little battery-operated fan was used over and over. Even other campers commented about the "coolness" of it.

Cha-ching. Point for Camper Christin.

The girls were TH-R-I-LL-ED! They had been pacing the house like a pack of rabid wolves for over an hour, waiting for Daddy to come home. By the time we got in the car, they were more than ready. This is us pulling out of the driveway a little after 6pm.

Note to self: Next time leave earlier. In fact, go ahead, splurge, and take a 1/2 day off. Less stress. More time to just chill.
Here's the view of the campsite as we pulled in almost an hour later (due to some rather unclear directions gotten off of the Internet. but that's another story) My girls were beside themselves when they saw the other campers en masse, the water, the paddle boats and the huge, florescent yellow slide. Oh how I love easy-to-please children.

I didn't take a bunch of pictures. Because I was actually living in the moment instead of documenting it. Well, that... and when you're living the rugged lifestyle as I was *insert manly grunt and groan here*, there's always something to do.

Start the fire with the world's first ever Nonflammable firewood. Roast the hot dogs for our 10pm dinner. Set up the tent by the light of the moon...and the Durango headlights.

Wait a minute. I didn't do any of those things. Huh. What did I do? Oh yeah. I was the one running around the in the dark, watching the guys set up camp. and the kids running around like wild animals armed with flashlights. Thinking, "Dang it. I am so completely useless right now. Next time, I'll know more. Yeah...next time." It was my own personal "I am not a loser" pep talk.

One thing I would recommend: Go with another family with children your kids' ages. Your sanity will thank you. ...as will your children.

More to come...

Almost Ready!

What do you get when you add two small children, an infant, and a detail-oriented mom preparing for an overnight in a tent? I'll tell you. An unbelievable amount of stuff.

Gone are the days when an overnight stay can be neatly packed into an...well, overnight bag. These days, that's what I call a purse.

I've got SPF. Bathing suits. Floaty devices for all three girls. Bug spray. Itch cream. Benodryll. Fire wood. Matches. DRY stuff to help get the fire going (since it's been stormy these past few days and threatens to continue that legacy tonight). Flashlights. Cameras. Batteries. Bottled water. Food for dinner and breakfast. Snacks for the times in between. Beach chairs for all four of us. An exersaucer for Raegan who refuses to remain seated in a non-moving stroller. *big sigh*

I'm truly a light packer. Really. I'm not wandering around the house thinking about all the things I want to take. Seriously. I'm just sitting still and thinking through all the "what ifs". What if it's 100 degrees (again) and I need to get Raegan out of the sun, but there's no trees in sight at the pool? Do I take my running stroller since it has a viser-top? What if she doesn't want to co-sleep with Jet and I...should I cram a pack-n-play in? What if someone falls and cuts open their leg, will I have the right medicine?

On and on the list goes. Because...with kids...it's better to be prepared.

You just never know when your handy-dandy clip-on battery-powered fan could be needed to ward off the intense heat. I mean, come on. That cute, pastel, battery-operated size-of-a-pencil propeller is a necessity, right? You know, "just in case".

And inevitably, if you don't take the tourniquet, someone will end up severing an appendage. and OH! how they'll thank me when I pull that sucker out of my pocket. Why, excuse me. But are you bleeding? Need this? Mhhmm. I thought so. Just call me "Prepared."

Somewhere deep inside me and my 'what if' mentality, I'm expecting there to be a Prize. One bestowed by the Head Camp Director over his awe at my Girl-Scoutish abilities to foresee the future and plan accordingly.

I. must. prevail. .

But I have to say that what I'm really wondering about is if the weather forecast is correct. If it will, in fact, thunder storm. Oh glory.

Yes. Still excited. A little worn out from this packing frenzy. A lot ready for Jet to walk in the door and give me his therapeutic hug. The girls, on the other hand, are completely ecstatic. They currently are standing guard at the front door. Shoes on. Cups in hand. Ready to go.

Already, I think this "trial" camp out is a hit and we haven't even left the house. Good times ahead!