The Bubble

We recently had a friend over for dinner, where we discussed all kinds of things, as they pertain to a God bigger than we are able to image. ...our discussions went deep. They challenged me. They stretched my brain as I tried to wrap it around some of the things that he was sharing with us (to be shared in a later post). They inspired me to walk outside of the possible as I trusted God accomplishing the impossible.

Essentially, we discussed walking outside of the "bubble" that we've put God in.


Well, we're still feeling the effects of that little visit. Because apparently, Jon had an impact on our daughters as well. For I'm thinking he inspired them to walk outside of that which they've always known. At the dinner table anyway. And as far as bubbles... Well, I'm thinking he told them to...create them.

Jon. You're a goof. We heard how...as Jet and I walked out of the room...you told them about when you were a little boy. armed with a drinking straw. :)

We love you. We pray for you as you leave the country this week. May God arm you with power, humor, and humility.

Blog...a heart under construction

What is the purpose of my blog? I've been asking myself this recently. Especially in the wake of the "yes, we do teach our children to respect themselves enough to not let people run over them" blog. A lot of friends have told me that particular blog sparked some pretty in-depth discussion with their spouse and friends as they, too, searched out their stance on it.

SO is my blog to challenge people? Is that it's purpose? No. It cannot become the single purpose. Or I fear my self-proclaimed "I am here to challenge the world" status would produce an ego that my shoulders haven't the strength to carry. IF people are challenged as a by-product, then great! I'm all for that. I think our lives as Christians should continually be challenging/challenged. Simply because we are infilled with the Holy Spirit!! Who is, by nature, challenging on every realm (John 16:12, John 14:17, Acts 1:8).

When I asked the "parental question", I suddenly had people commenting who had never commented before. I knew I had a lot of readers, but only a few commenters. So I was like "Sweet!" I loved hearing every body's responses. Loved seeing that people actually cared about the things that I did. I loved that most people were in agreement with me (who doesn't like to know that?). But my goal cannot be to write for approval. As my life cannot be either. I have to continually remind myself of this as I write, as I'm sure you can relate.

If I live to please man...then I am displeasing to God. So my blog cannot be used as an instrument to gain approval OR a "reader following". Though I admit, those things are so tempting, as they evoke a sort of emotional "high" that can be addictive.

I love to write in a way that brings unexpected humor to situations that would otherwise make me cringe with frustration. Uh, like Selah and her obsessive desire to pee in the grass. In public. Um, yeah. Those are moments I speak of. I love to laugh and find joy in things...and to share this with you. But I cannot set that up as my purpose for this blog. Because then I just get tripped up on trying to entertain the masses.

And yes, I want to document all the little things that my precious family does. I love that part of it...the being able to look back and sort of relive the experience again. I love the convenience of sharing these moments with my friends and family. Of essentially being able to "scrapbook" without the scissors and glue. But...in my heart, that is not what my sole purpose is.

So I've come to the conclusion of what my blog cannot entirely be: A means to Impress. Entertain. Challenge. Enamor with my lofty words and creative jargon, all in hopes of getting nods of approval.

Because my heart cannot be turned towards striving for the approval of others. My heart has been created to only serve ONE love. (Luke 16:13)

So my heart for this blog: I want to write in a way that if I were to die tomorrow, my girls would have accurate record of my true, uninhibited heart for and experiences in the Lord. Not watered down. Not worded so others can easily swallow it. Not effected by the judgement I think I may receive. But a full-out passionate recording of the workings of the Lord in the lives of my family. In all His wonder. In all His amazement. In all His mystery.

That my girls wouldn't look at this blog and say "Wow, Mom had a lot of blog comments." or "Mom could sure use words. Good for her."

I want their hearts to be deeply stirred. And that even in my absence from this world, my life would leave a meaningful imprint upon theirs. That they would say,

"You know, I really want what Mom had with the Lord. I want her resolve to not be held back by status quo Christianity. I want to have my eyes open to God's depths. Because of her life, I have that hunger in me."

If my life on this earth doesn't get to see their teenage years...or beyond. Then I want them to have, in print, my heart. My thoughts of God. My penned plea of encouragement to push aside all hindrances (whatever they may be) and run, wholeheartedly, after Jesus. Not solely from a pew. But in a hands-on way. I want them to see that in my life. But if their memories can't retain real-life examples...then I want this blog journal to clearly show them my passion for Christ.

I want to instill in them the knowledge that though you may not always understand the outward workings of God, you can understand the heart of God. And therefore you can trust him even when circumstances could warrant doubt or question.

Because, let me tell you, there are crazy-amazing things that have happened in our lives...wonders that I cannot explain to this day...open visions of another realm...things that I, for the life of me, cannot wrap my brain around outside of just saying, "All I know is God's ways are bigger than mine." I've been in worship services where oil will start dripping from my hand. Where I am suddenly covered in flecks of gold dust. (and yes, these can be explained biblically). Things that I haven't shared with too many people outside of my immediate circle, for fear of being judged or having the precious gift/revelation/miracle of God be nit-picked to death.

Yet. Things that I want my girls to know. to understand.

AND there have been amazingly frustrating things as well. Times when God has asked us to obey. Blindly we did...still waiting, years later, to see the fruit of it. Our lives have not always been easy. But our God has always been good. ...even when we had to dig deep to blindly cling to that belief.

And I want my girls to know that.

Therefore, my purpose is to leave a heritage for my children. So they can look back and see the questions, the amazement, the joy, the hurt, the healing of their young mom as she seeks out the Creator of it ALL. The One that DOESN'T live inside the box that our minds and our denominations place Him in. But the One that desires to pour Himself out on us in ways that will offend our mind to reveal our heart.

Luke 7:23 "Blessed is he who does not take offense at Me."

For He is far more concerned with the condition of our heart, than its comfort.

So there you have it. My heart exposed. Once again. My mind renewed as to why I blog....more a reminder to myself, than anything else. A desire for this blog to not be a waste of time. Rather a Heritage of the Heart.

Deuteronomy 11:18-21

My Response to YOUR responses to below post! :)

I was going to just write a response under "comments", but I knew it'd turn out to be a long one. So...here's my very own response to all of your responses regarding the below "Spiderman Mom." post :)

Wow. Thank you guys for ALL your input (on my blog comments and to my personal email)!! I was overwhelmed and encouraged by the response. Though I wholeheartedly agree with Val: there is no one cookie cutter thing to do each and every time, it did encourage me to hear so many of your stories and advice and words of wisdom. Thank you. Truly.

There were some tidbits of information that I chose to leave out about the mom. Simply because I wanted your opinion without the added knowledge of her "identity". Being that things like this have and will continue to happen as the girls get older... with both strangers and with parents that we know from our kids' activity circles.

But the mom "in question" is someone that I have recently started to befriend. She just moved to the area a few months back with her family and doesn't know anyone. I've invited her to join us on some homeschooling field trips we're getting ready to have. (not sure how I feel about her coming now, but that's a different story). I've really tried to reach out to her....be her friend...be an encouragement to her.

That said, all of that was rolling around inside of my head as I stood there. Mute. Watching.

In the grand scheme of things, should "knowing" her matter? Uh? Not really. But at that moment in time, it did play a factor, as I wasn't wanting to hurt her feelings.

BUT this is what I have to ask myself. Are HER feelings more important to me than my girls'? There is a "duh" obvious response to this. I know. Of course my girls are more important. But do my actions always line up with that?

When I was growing up, I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt that my dad would protect me. He was a bodybuilder. He wasn't one to be intimated. I knew I was the apple of his eye. I REMEMBER him telling me that if a grizzly bear ever tried to hurt me that he would kill it with his bare hands. And I can tell you that I believed him. 100%.

I remember when a man that worked for my dad cussed in front of me. My dad told me to go outside. And then he promptly told that man that he does NOT cuss and use that kind of language in front of his daughter. He called me back in. The man apologized profusely. I was a bit embarrassed that I had "caused" the man to get in trouble. But I can tell you that I felt protected and looked after AND cherished.

And because of that, I felt secure. AND because of that, I came to understand a lot of the Father Heart of God. The part where he says he is my Strong Tower. My Shelter. My Fortress. My protector. All because my earthly daddy was protecting me at all costs.

I want my girls to feel that security. My husband and I want to model that for them. To build into the depths of their foundations that they are cherished enough for us to protect them. that they are worth enough for them to stand up for themselves.

On the flip side, I had a relative who would always put other people's (even strangers) feelings above my own. If I was with this relative and someone offended or hurt me, the relative would, for the sake of extending kindness to the other person, expect me to stuff my feelings away. Get over them. Not let it bother me. Overlook it. And because of that I became someone who felt like my feelings weren't as important as the next person's. I became an expert at "stuffing down the inconvenient feelings". So I've had to really work at being consistently vunerable with myself, with the Lord, and with certain others.

I don't want my girls to EVER feel like they are taking second place to some random person...simply because I want to guard the other person's feelings more than theirs.

So that, too, has been rolling around in my heart since this whole episode....as I want to truly consider all the different angles as I take the "what to do" to the Father.

But it also needs to be understood that the option to hit back/push them off is after they've exhausted all the other options. It really is that last option. And I hope it never gets to that. But I have walked into a room where she was literally getting fists in the face and body. And she was standing there. Horrified and scared and hurting. Because we had never equipped her with the truth that you don't have to just stand there and let someone do that to you. When I gave her permission to fight back, I literally SAW something change in her countenance...in her confidence. For she was armed with the fact that she had options outside of just getting beat up.

Does she hit people? Honestly, no. Does she know that if it comes down to it and there is no other option that she CAN take up for herself? Absolutely. Maybe it comes naturallly for boys...the inner knowledge that I don't have to just stand there. But for my girls, it was the furthest thing from their personality. And the way the world is...with sexual violence and whatever...I WANT them to know, upfront and early on, that if someone is doing something to them that they do not want to happen, they CAN protect themselves.

Now on paper, I realize my use of the word "warrior" may seem like we are condoning our children to REact violently to violence. But we aren't. By any stretch. but what we ARE condoning is the strength of character TO be able to NOT allow other people to push them around, on any realm. And as I saw a few days ago, Charis is getting it. She stood up to that little boy. she didn't hit him back. She made sure he knew, clearly, that she wasn't going to put up with what he was doing.

Do I believe it's Biblical? You had better believe it. It is ABSOLUTELY Godly to have boundaries and not to let someone push past that. We are not teaching our girls to pick fights or giving them license to bully/hit others. We are teaching them that can stand their ground and refuse to be bullied. There is a significant difference.

QUESTION...

...Are you kidding me?!!

Okay, so maybe that's not the entirety of the question. But it is part of it. Allow me to explain...

We were leaving Story Time at our local library when one of the little boys... who happened to be dressed from head to toe in a Spiderman costume... out of the blue, hauls off and hits Selah (3). In front of me and his mom and the librarian.

Now we've been drilling our little girls about what to do in moments like that. "If someone hits you, you tell them to stop/back off." You see, we want them to learn to talk it out with their friends, instead of always expecting someone else to 'fight their battles' for them.

"If they don't stop, you tell a teacher or us." We want them to know that someone will, if need be, have their back. And that they can trust someone in authority to protect them.

"If there's no one close by, and they still are hitting you, push or hit them to get them off of you." Yes. I'm serious on this one. We want them to know that their purpose in life is not to stand idly by and let people abuse them, without having the okay to take up for themselves. Maybe if we had more aggressive children, we wouldn't be encouraging this. But my girls have stood by while another child was literally beating on them, feeling completely helpless.

(This whole parenting perspective came from reading John Eldredge's book "Wild at heart"...he talks about how God has called us to be warriors. But how we forget that, taking the whole "turn the other cheek" to the utmost extreme, and instead train our children from birth to be every one's doormat. Or something to that effect. I am unable to find the quote, but when my husband and I read it, it resonated within us.)

BUT ANYWAY. That's been our stance concerning this new stage in our children's lives: friendships with other independent little children.

So here I am, standing and talking to the librarian with Mom-of-Spiderman when it all happens. Selah looks at me, ready to cry, and proclaims that he hit her, hard. Being that the mom is standing there, I figure "Okay, I'm not going to discipline HER child. That's her job." So I tell Selah to talk to the little boy and tell him not to hit. But she looks scared.

Without Selah even saying anything, the boy starts arguing with her. Saying that she's lying. Selah looks at me. I look at his mom, who is watching this entire thing! (I can't see him well because from my point of view, he's mostly covered by a table. so in order to address him, I'd have to physically move to be standing right on top of the mother) But the mom says nothing. And I am so tongue-tied at this lack of her parental involvement that I, too, stand there speechless.

But not my 4 year old! She steps close to the boy and says, "Don't. you. hit. my. sister!" She says each word carefully, so that this little bully won't misunderstand she means business. I have to admit I'm proud. Not long ago, both of my girls would have cowered in the corner and done nothing.

Charis's proclamation sets off the 2 year old brother of the boy clad in superhero garb. For he gets in Charis's face and starts seriously going off. I mean the boy is yelling. screaming. physically shaking.

I look at the mom. Who does look horrified, but still says nothing to the boys. Are you kidding me?!! Not one word about not hitting. Nothing about apologizing. She just tries to quiet him down.

I look at the librarian, say bye, gather my three girls and leave. My girls are now heart-broken because there was no closure for them. As Selah has now started to cry because no one apologized for hitting her, not even the mom. And Charis's attempts at rectifying the situation caused mass hysteria from the other boy, in front of the mother, where nothing was said.

Yes, I spoke to them in the parking lot. and in the car. and at home. I told them I was proud of them. That the boys shouldn't have treated them that way. Etc Etc. They understood that, but didn't get why the other mommy said nothing.

Though apparently Charis DID get a rush from it. She proclaimed her warrior-like protective abilities for Selah on the way home and how she'll "ALWAYS PROTECT" her. ;) And then she said, "And I won't let anyone hurt you either, mommy!"

Aw. thanks hon.

In hindsight, as I've had a few days to think it over....I've come to the conclusion that if given the chance, I'd go ahead and correct the boys. Maybe? But...in all honesty, when situations like that spring from no where, I usually tend to let people's rudeness shock me to silence. But that is not something I want to model for my girls. Yes, I want them to extend grace to people. But no, I don't think I should set them up to accept that their role in life is to take any and all abuse people heap upon them.

*big sigh* So my question...what should I have done? What would you do in that situation?
Any thoughts?

Stand back, Martha Stewart!

I've said it before... I love listening to the conversations that my girls have with each other. I'll hear things like "If a bear scratched you, I'd put a bandaid on it. Because I'm your best friend." And "Don't worry, when I grow up and get married, I'll still be your friend."

I love those moments. I think, proudly to myself, about the oh-so-wonderful job I'm doing as a mother, enstilling such a bond of friendship in them (*insert awkward clearing of throat). ;)

But today, as I heard them in their room playing pretend kitchen, I had to wonder about the job I'm doing. Especially as it pertains to the culinary arts.

Charis, the chef, says to Selah, the restaurant patron:

"I'm sorry, we don't have any water made up yet."

Cooking lesson, anyone?

Family Day...Part Three

Part Three: Mountain Picnic....

We drove to the nearest mountain, found a picnic part, set up our food, and prepared to just end the day eating and looking for deer. *bam* My beloved 3 year old yells, "I have to go pee!"

Now I have to say, we had taken her to the bathroom right before we left our house. And then again, 10 minutes later at Subway, after we got our subs. She hadn't had time to drink anything. YET, here we were only 15 minutes since the last Potty Break, in the middle of a potty-free zone AND surrounded by three other families who stole our mountain picnic idea. and she's yelling about needing to go. Hm. What. to. do.

So with no bathroom in sight, Jet said, "Nope. You have to hold it."

"But my pee pee is coming out!" She screams this. Loudly. Repeatedly. I look at Jet, he sighs and relents. Because what are you going to do? If the girl has to go, she has to go. So...he does what any good daddy would do. He takes her to the nearest tree.

Now if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you've come to realize that peeing in the grass is oddly one of Selah's favorite things to do. No, I have no idea why. But it is. So when Jet drags her to the nearest tree, she was more than happy to comply. In fact, I think I saw a glint in her eye.

...And then again 10 minutes later. ....and then again 10 minutes later after that. Her bladder obviously comes equipped with an automatic timer set for every 10 minutes. The obvious necessity baffles me. And yellows the grass. Can't you see that glint? The one that says This is a red-letter day because I got to pee in the grass THREE times?! See it?

But finally, we're done eating and move on. Leaving "our" tree behind. And as Jet surveys the amazing views, he brings up camping, since we've been talking about going again. "We should camp here."

"Nope. I have a thing against bear." I say.

"Well, they won't hurt you. They're black bear. Not grizzly."

"I don't really care. I'm not prejudice. I don't like any of 'em."

"We'll just put our food in the tree."

"I so don't get that. What does it matter if it's in the tree? They still SMELL it."

"Because then they can't eat it."

"Um yeah, but they still COME, don't they? I think at that point, I'd much rather have them eat the food, then ... us."

He laughs. Apparently I'm funny. Crazy, since I really wan't trying to be. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, biting my tongue. He goes on to say..."They're harmless. Less so than wolves. Bears eat berries and nuts and..."

"Wolves? So there are wolves up here?! Are you really thinking this whole divert-Christin-from-bear-by-focusing-on-other-carnivorous animal tactic is really going to convince me to camp here? Cause you're failing. Miserably. I don't do wolves either."

"Nooooo, honey! there are no..."

"But there ARE Bobcats." I know that we both know this. He just nods and smiles. "Okay Jet, so I have successfully graduated from my fear of berry-eating bears onto fear of flesh-eating bobcats. Satisfied? But I'm still not camping here."

Seconds later, a BLACK BEAR runs in front of us. Jet is thrilled; he says it makes his day. I, on the other hand, am so overwhelmed that our hypothetical wildlife has just materialized before my eyes. And though I don't remember it, he says I screamed "It's a bear! It's a BEAR!" over and over again. Apparently, I become a woman of few words when I am trying hard not to pee in the grass. ;)

It was a fun day...yard sales, pretend attack alligators, real life bear, and all!

Family Day...Part Two

After eating lunch, we headed to our local Children's Museum. Love it!!
Where Charis painted her own face. And acted out the part of The Ferocious Cat. She loves to run around, regardless of what flesh-eating animal she is pretending to be, yelling "I'm vicious, vicious, vicious!!"
And where Selah played out the part of the Evil People-eating Crocodile on stage.

We just watched. Safely away from cats and crocs.
When they got tired of being the actors on a stage, they became the lighting crew.

Charis showing her mad skills at climbing. ;)
Daddy chillin' with a very tired Raegan before we headed home to take naps...

The One Tooth Wonder

Can you hear it?!! It's the sound of a Heavenly choir. I hear trumpets. I hear harps and lyres. I hear shouts of joy and the thunderous clapping.

For Raegan's tooth has FINALLLLLLLLLY come through. ...and the second one should surface any day now. (**hours later the second one came through!**)

I'm thinking that we'll be able to sleep again. Oh the sweet bliss. I'm so happy I could cry! :)

Appreciation, Selah style.

The other day I was talking to the girls about when they become wives and how one of the most important things they can do for their husbands is to encourage and appreciate them. After giving them examples of what I meant, I told them that since they wouldn't have husbands for a long time, they could practice on someone else.

I ask, "Who's the man in your life right now?"

Charis's (4) face lights up. "Granddaddy!"

Uh. Nooooo. I ask the question again. She looks at me with a blank stare.

I try a different angle, "Who's the man that you live with?"

"Daddy!!"

"YES! And how can we encourage him right now? What are some things that you think we could do for Daddy that would show him that we appreciate him?"

Selah (3) yells, "We could get him a kitten! He would like that. And then we could play with it for him. That would encourage him."

A cat. Huh. Who knew? Jet's a very lucky man to have such attentive, selfless little girls looking out for his subconscious desires like that and all. ...Adorable. :)

The Final Blow. Hitting the Gym...or something else

Early this week, I got a hold of a bunch of outdated Fitness Magazines. And I, wanting to give these last pounds of pregnancy weight the final blow, started to peruse the pages. All I can say is: it was depressing...in a motivating kind of way.

Filled to the brim with pictures of women's bodies who, in my head, can't possibly be real past the age of 19. Article titles that promise "You can do it!", "Reach any better body goal", and "Sleeker thighs in 3 moves" jump out, taunting me from every single page. And of course no exercise story is complete without a full body picture of Miss Fitness USA showing you how to correctly complete said exercises. *groan*

So last night, I go through the articles, pick out the program that I'm most likely to stick with, and set it aside. This morning, I take it out, look at the first exercise on the list, and read the following:

Standing with feet shoulder-width apart, lift right leg off the floor, bending right knee 90 degrees; keep hands on hips. Bring right leg 45 degrees away from body, balancing on left
leg. From this position, bring right knee toward right side and back toward center.

Seriously?

If I was listening to someone explain this, I'd be asking over and over, "Uh, could you repeat that last part? You see, I was working on the 90 angle part. And I dropped my protractor. Darn thing just slipped right through my fingers before I could measure the angle. So could you slow down cause I never got the 90-degree thing down before you rushed on to the 45-degree part. And while we're at it, I'm having a hard time with the whole left and right sides moving at the same time thing."

But as it is, I'm READING it. Slowly. Over and over, all the while trying to effectively and gracefully accomplish it. I actually had flashbacks of playing the game "Twister". Except this time it was just me, the floor, and the instructions I was wildly trying to hold onto and read as I contorted my body this way and that.

My oldest daughters were right beside me on the floor, obviously enthralled by what fun new game mommy was playing. They were mock breathing heavy. Like Mommy. Throwing their arms and legs around wildly. Like Mommy. It all had a seizure-like appearance. So in following with the other examples, I'd take a stab and say it, too, was...like Mommy. Nice.

Apparently they wanted to do what I was doing. And all I wanted to do was what Miss Fitness USA was doing in the picture. We were all failing miserably. For model-lady was doing it gracefully. perfectly. Sweat-free.

In fact, she was smiling, looking so content and at-ease that I suddenly had the urge to follow a new set of instructions: "Lunge forward with right leg. Use heel of right foot on right leg to take smile off of offending person's face." But for the life of me, I couldn't find those instructions anywhere. Huh. Shocking, really.

But distracted by my "Mini Mes", writhing on the floor in pretend exercise agony, I put the article down. And as I frantically continued to flip through the pages of Fitness, I came across these two articles: "Beat belly bulge" and "Hit every muscle in 5 minutes"

Okay. So that I can do. Plus, I have helpers to boot!

"Okay girls, come here and take a *whack* at mommy. Just hit me until you can't hit me any longer! Yes. I'm serious. No, you won't end up in the Naughty Corner. Go ahead. Hit every muscle you can for the next 5 minutes. And if you don't mind, focus on the buttocks area. Mkay? And can you go get me a lemonade first? I don't want to get dehydrated."

So see, at least this is an exercise program I can do with ease!! I mean, I may get bruised and all, but according to the picture, if I do this for a few weeks and I'll be back to my pre-baby size in no time. Yeah, I may be forming some unhealthy social habits in my daughters. But my jeans will fit me once more! I mean, come on. It's all about priorities, right?


**FYI, I am joking. The Internet tends to take itself so seriously sometimes. It really should loosen up, don't ya think?** ;)

Playtime

One of my beloved friends (Jolanthe) has children right around the same age as my own. So when our kiddos get together, it's seven children aged 6 and under (the two youngest are elsewhere). As you can imagine it's amazingly loud and lively whenever they play. This picture is extremely unusual. And no, I don't mean the fact that Zachary is wearing his sister's pink floral boots. That seems to be pretty commonplace. (when you're the lone guy among the big kids, you do what you gotta do). :) But I am referring to the quiet, calm sitting! THAT is rare.

We were getting lunch ready and needed for them to be out from under our feet. I told them the couch was the "book boat"...apparently, that's all it took. ;) Jolanthe later referred to it as the Good Ship Lollipop. Thankfully, they were so engrossed in their reading, that no one asked where the lollipops were!! :)

But don't be deceived by their quiet demeanor in the picture. Because before their quiet reading phase, they were outside playing. Taming the wildlife in their backyard.

Charis, who has become quite accustomed to catching spiders with her Daddy, caught this one. It's huge!! Atta Girl. I think?

Uganda's 20 Year Holocaust

I have NO idea why my blog's videos keep disappearing. So until I figure it out, here is the link for the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jb8TTYWwcWI


A friend of mine, from YWAM, filmed and directed this short documentary. Make sure that there are no children in the room when viewing, as it is a very "in your face" type of film. Which, it needs to be, since that's the type of reality it is for the people experiencing it.

Here's what he said about it:

"For over 20 years, Northern Uganda has been plagued by a war that has take the lives of countless Northern Ugandans, with thousands of children being abducted and forced to become child soldiers. I made this while I was in Kampala, Uganda in the Summer of 2006" Michael Nease

I never knew...

Oops

Note to self:
Must remember to carefully check the newly bought dish detergent label. You know, to make sure that it was actually meant for the dishwashing machine.

Though on a good note, the kitchen floor directly in front of the dishwasher becomes *sparkling* clean due to the overflow of soap bubbles that emerge from this slight misreading-of-the-label oversight.

Birthday Cheer

So this year my birthday wasn't "all that". Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Just processing. And trying to find the humor in a birthday that threatens to go down in history as the one where I rush to the doctor and say "Please ...just tie my tubes. And do it quickly before more child-drama happens!"

Take our family lunch-out for instance. We went to Cracker Barrel. Nice place to eat. They give you free dessert when it's your birthday. The kids can be entertained while looking at the toys they have displayed inside. And it's near the place where we were headed after lunch. So... perfect. Let's go!!

We drove over and promptly waited. And waited. And waited. For almost an hour with three very hungry and very tired (due to sleepover at g'parents) little girls. Why didn't we leave, you ask? Well simply put, we were feeling rather daring. It was my birthday. And by golly, I'm going to go out to eat and have fun. You hear me?! FUN, I say. So sit down, shut up, and act like we're enjoying ourselves. *wry grin*

But yes, we DID choose to endure a 45 minute wait. We figured, why not? We asked for a table for five. So we'd probably end up sitting in a lovely little corner by the window...plenty of space to just relax and let the kids "kick back". If we leave...by the time we get to another restaurant, we'd have been already seated here. Right? I mean, it sounds like good ol', sound logical thinking to me.

Unfortunately, the receptionist was lacking in the fundamental skill of reading numbers.

We walk up to the desk. She says "You're the table of five?" Yep. That's us. See...here we all are. I point to all of my children. All FIVE of us. And then she hands us off to this petite blond whose eyes are darting back and forth around the room rapidly. Maybe she didn't like large crowds? Maybe she was re-thinking her decision to work at a restaurant on a Sunday in the Bible Belt. Who knows what she was thinking. But we had no choice. We had to follow her. And so we did.

She sort of wandered around aimlessly for a second. Stopped. Looked. Her lips were moving but no sounds were coming out. Should I say something to help calm her? And then without going to the back section of the restaurant to see about the availability of large tables, she promptly led us to a FOUR top. Smack in the middle of other crowded tables. Suddenly, all desire to comfort her was *poof* gone.

Lovely. Yes, hi there, table neighbor. No, we didn't CHOOSE to be this close to you. I promise. It was her fault. The girl with the nervous tic. We did tell her FIVE, I swear!!!

I want to shout these things at the top of my frazzled lungs. But I was hyperventilating. Apparently you can't do both at the same time. So all I could do was give my husband "the eye." You know what I'm talking about? That thing we do when there's nothing else politically correct for a responsible adult to do. So I glare. Quickly. So no one else can see. God forbid other people- besides the one we love the very most- be subject to such a nasty face. Oh, I shudder at the thought.

Now allow me to clarify something. Raegan has been doing some heavy-duty teething these past few days. My usually content, laid-back baby has been replaced by a child who does not want to sleep. And who apparently doesn't appreciate it when others attempt to. You can see the teeth through the surface...right underneath. Trust me, I know. I've had the last few nights to inspect the slow progress, as there is nothing else to do at 3 in the morning. This is key information, as you may need to understand why the parental figures are so frazzled and why the 6 month old is anything but content.

So half-way through the meal, Raegan, in keeping up with her I'm-teething-and-you-will-feel-my-pain mantra, was making her presence known to every restaurant patron within 70 feet. In a matter of seconds, I'm sure my blood pressure rose to lethal levels.

But apparently we crossed over from "look at those dumb parents" to "Aww, poor guys...they're trying so hard" at some point during our dining experience. Because a very kind-hearted woman stood up and said "May I hold her so you can eat?"

I wanted to throw my arms around her. Hug her. Award her with a metal of honor. Something. Just for her act of kindness. Seriously, it gave me the attitude boost that I needed to finish the meal in dignity. Unfortunately our dear daughter also suffers from Stranger Anxiety. Which brings her crying to a whole new level of shrill. *Sorry, she doesn't appreciate strangers, but thank you sooooo much for your offer. Can you come back later when I want to take a nap?*

And then there was Selah, who was apparently not wanting to be left out of the Let's-Gang-Up-on-Mom-and-Dad scenario. She cried at the drop of a hat. The broken-hearted, inconsolable kind of tears. Everything was a tragedy. A loud one. But that's not all...

Nooooo...*ding ding ding* you are the lucky winner! You've been chosen to also contend with what's behind Door #2! Tell them what they've won, Johnny!

You get a child who seems to be going through a phase where she thinks obedience in optional!! *applause and cheers* Ahh, yes. You are the lucky winner of a birthday lunch out with a 3 year old who has a sudden outset of strong-willed personality AND hunger and sleep deprivation factors thrown in just for fun! Woo-Hoo. Oh, what a prize it was!!

Um yeah. It. was. not. pretty.

Thankfully though, they did bring me free dessert. And just like that, Selah was happy to comply with anything I said. Ah, the magic of chocolate when contending for a woman's heart.

So then after leaving the restaurant, we did what any parent with a death-wish would do at this stage of the game. We went shopping. I know, I know. But it WAS to a rather benign place, in my opinion. The Good Will.

Now. I have to interrupt the story and explain something lest you think that my husband is the biggest cheapskate of all time. Two years ago, he bought me a treadmill of professional gym quality. With the understanding that it would be my birthday and Christmas presents for the next couple of years. Every year and at every occasion, he has tried to re-nig on that "binding contract" by buying me something else. But this time, I told him...You are not allowed to spend money on me. Alright?!!

So I ASKED to go to the Good Will, being that I have now lost enough baby weight to effectively cause my "bigger" clothes to fall off. And my smaller ones to be able to zip up, though only barely. So I am presented with the choice of being mistaken for a plumber (you figure that metaphor out)...or to go in public wearing pants where the song "Baby Got back" will involuntarily spring to mind.

Neither of those options really suits me. So...off we head to Good Will to buy some more "in-between, but not quite there yet" clothes. All the while, hanging out with these children who have decided that *birthday cheer* is an overrated idea.

If any of you have graced the doors of The Good Will, you know the large open room. The cement encasing that gives shoppers the ability to hear normal conversation from every corner of the store. So figure in the fact that two of my children were crying... Ahh yes. That was MY family you heard, oh lovely shoppers to the local Goodwill. I know you were all thinking the same thing: "For the love of God, take those kids home to get a nap and leave the rest of us to shop in peace!"

Yes, yes, I know. But have I mentioned that I like to live on the wild side? Yeah well. I do. but actually, that day I was physically unable to get away from the "wild side". By law, I can't leave my kids out on the curb. ;)

So now...24 hours later...I guess I can say it wasn't THAT bad. I just wasn't in the mood for teething babies, incompetent receptionists, or frazzled toddlers. Because thirty-one years ago, my mom worked very hard to bring me into the world. Thank you very much. And I deserve to celebrate her hard work and the fruits of...well, ME. *wink*

So if you know me personally and see me running around with a "It's my birthday" pin...just know that it's because Jet and I agreed this birthday was a fake. a default. a trial run. It didn't really count. And therefore didn't really happen. :)