Shopping for Treasures

The after Christmas sales have never been a big deal to me. I'm not much of a shopper, because I don't like to fight the crowds, but the kids must have a stray shopping gene. They can't wait to get to the stores to spend the Christmas money that's burning a hole in their pockets. My oldest particularly likes to peruse the DVD isles.

Amidst the flurry of Christmas activities this year, my youngest asked me out of the blue, "now why do we give each other gifts at Christmas?", "it's not our birthday, it's Jesus' birthday, right?". I thought to myself, this is another one of those trick questions kids ask grownups. Not wanting to flunk the grownup test and unsure of how to answer him, I ponder the idea of Christmas with no presents! Yikes! That would be awful. I think to myself, what was that story about St. Nicholas and how does that play into all of this gift giving ritual? Now, I'm feeling like the most uneducated mom, and make a mental note to research the St. Nick thing soon (surely there's a "Christmas Histories for dummies" book at the Christian book store that will tell me everything I need to know). Finally, I explained to him that we give gifts to the people we love, like the Wise Men(Maji) brought gifts to Jesus, to celebrate Christ's birth. He was happy with that answer and ran off do to what ever 9 year olds do, and I was happy that I had saved the Christmas gift giving tradition in our family. Whew, close call.

This incident prompted me to remind the kids that all this stuff we give and get is just stuff to use and enjoy, but that our real treasures are in heaven.

But store up for yourselves, treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:20

I have to admit, the shopping and the wrapping and the giving and the getting can be a distraction to my kids if I don't continually point them to Christ and remind them that... his birth is the reason we have joy and his death is the reason we have life.

Monday Monday

I can remember when I did not like Mondays. Monday morning always came to soon, and I was dead tired from a busy weekend when the morning alarm pulled me out of a deep sleep. If I had rested or played all weekend I would probably have not had such an aversion to Mondays, but because I worked all week, my weekend consisted of all the stuff that stay-at-home moms take care of during their week; going to the grocery store, shopping for kids clothes, replacing things that break around the house, paying bills, not to mention the standard housework, yard work and other non-fun stuff. I didn't have that free time to regroup and reorganize myself or the kids, so when Mondays came I was wishing for an extra night of sleep.

I can remember slapping around on the night stand in a half awake stupor, trying to quiet the buzz buzz buzz that interrupted my drowsy world. When I'd finally opened my eyes enough to see that I was running late, the adrenaline rush would catapult me from my cozy cocoon and get me up and running in a frantic rush to do everything that I should have taken care of the night before but didn't have the energy (like lay out my clothes and the kids clothes and pack the diaper bag for daycare).

I'd feed and dress the toddler and the baby, take them to daycare, peel them off of me and head for work. Of course, no morning is complete without that dose of Mommy guilt that comes with leaving my children at daycare. It begins with the babies crying Moooomeeee" and holding their chubby little arms out as I drive away, which I would think about over and over, all day, until it distracted me so that I'd have to call the daycare to make sure that everyone was still alive. I'd work all day, watching the clock slowly wind it's way towards quitting time. The moment the clock struck 5 I was outta there, heading for the daycare to gather up my little chicks to take them home, play with them, feed them, bathe them and put their sweet little chubby cheeks to bed, only to do it all over again the next day.

It was an exhausting time that taught me to trust in God and that he would provide all we would need, even if I could not imagine how he would do so. This is my verse, the one that I held on to during that time:

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future...Jeremiah 29:11

I am happy to report, I no longer have to take the kids to daycare. My oldest, the one with Down Syndrome, (he was 4 at the time) bit a daycare worker in the stomach and got kicked out! So I quit my job. That was ten years ago and I am still at home, and I don't mind getting up on Mondays.

Bloggers Block

When I typed out my first little blog entry earlier this year, I wasn't sure that I would be able to think of anything else to write after that first day. I had Bloggers Block. I didn't really have much to say, and in fact, I never was able to keep up a diary, as a child. So as you can imagine, this blogging thing looked a little daunting, but I wanted to give it a try. What I soon came to realize, and what all of you probably already knew, is that blogging is not at all like writing in a diary. Bloggers get comments and Bloggers give comments, and that interaction with other people can be tons of fun! Plus, I don't have to get all dressed up and go into the office to interact with smart people. I can just blog along writing nice things, and you'd never know that I was sitting here in my fuzzy rabbit slippers, with my hair in a ponytail on the top of my head, wearing my glasses on the end of my nose, while sipping on a diet coke and eating a Hershey's chocolate bar (the diet coke cancels out the chocolate bar calories, you know that don't you). That's what makes this bloggy world so much fun.

It's even more exciting when you receive an award:

I am one of the recipients of the Blog Friend Forever (BFF), awarded by Hol&J, and I am honored to be the recipient of such a great award. Thanks!

Wisdom In A Pan of Biscuits

My grandfather lived more than 80 years in a tiny Oklahoma farm community. His formal education stopped at the 8th grade, but I thought he was the smartest man around. He was a tomato farmer during the depression. He was a husband and father to three girls. My grandparents eloped when they were teenagers, because my grandmother's Papa didn't think that my grandfather would be able to support his daughter. He would tell my my Grandmother, "he ain't no count". I understood what that meant when I learned how to play 42. Fortunately for all of us, they enjoyed a long and happy marriage, I was a teenager when they celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary, and they went on to have many more anniversaries.

By today's standards, he would be considered a progressive man. He used to brag to the grand kids that he could cook breakfast better that my grandmother. He said that by the time she got the biscuits cooked, her eggs had gotten cold. And if she cooked the biscuits first, then they'd have cold biscuits when the eggs got done. He would tell us, "I can take 'em all up at once, Granny can't do that!". Meaning not only could he cook the biscuits, eggs, and bacon, but he could time it so that they'd all be done at the exact same instant and he'd put them all on the table at the same time. Surprisingly, he could do that, and my grandmother would just laugh and let him do all the cooking when we were visiting. Now who's the smart one there?

I remember one morning he pulled the biscuits out and they were flat instead of fluffy. I said, "grandpa, what happened to those biscuits?", and he said, "they got cooked in the squat". "What do you mean?", I asked. "Well", he said, "they squatted to rise and got cooked in the squat. That happens to people sometimes too". He went on to explain that sometimes people get all ready to do something great, and something happens that discourages them, or causes them to doubt. So instead of doing that "great thing", they quit. Just like those biscuits, they get cooked in the squat, about to rise to the occasion, only to fall instead.

So on those days when things don't go as I had planned, and my enthusiasm gets squashed, my kids are less that helpful, and I can't find any clean socks in the laundry, I think about my grandfather. I think about how difficult his life was compared to mine. I remember his wisdom and his love for his family and I am glad that he warned me about getting cooked in the squat.

It Was Just Right

We had the best weather for our Girl Scout camp out, not to hot, not to cold, it was just right. And I felt like little Red Riding hood, traipsing through the woods, but instead of looking out for the big bad wolf, I was dodging spiders and poison ivy.

We did archery, games and a ropes course.

The Girls

By that evening everyone was beat. We finished up our day with skits around the campfire, and peach cobbler baked on the coals. Yum.

A perfect end to a perfect day.

And so I wish you all a happy day!

Let's do the Twist

Halloween is not my favorite holiday, but it marks the beginning of the march towards my favorite holiday; Christmas! Halloween is fun for the kids. We've already started our pre-Halloween activities such as pumpkin carving, and I've made a couple of costumes this year. The inventor choose Link, the guy from the video games. My daughter choose to be the Ice Princess, the wicked lady from Narnia. I did not make the ice princess costume, however I did make her a poodle skirt for a 50's dance that about 100 kids from her grade (that would be just about everyone) attended. There's a local dance instructor in town that teaches ballroom dancing to kids and she is enrolled in that class, and yes they have to dance with the boys. It's done really well, the kids switch partners every 3-4 minutes so that a girl will dance with every boy in the room by the end of the class. They also teach manners; thank goodness. The boys and girls are given etiquette lessons, how to introduce themselves and others, how to behave at the punch table, the boys have to bring the girls the refreshments, open doors and escort the girls out of the room after class. They are taught how to accept a dance and how to cut in on someone. It's a lot of fun to watch (there's a window into the dance studio that parents like me peek in on the class, and I duck every time my daughter looks to see if I'm watching). There's also a dress code for class, the boys have to wear dress pants, shirt and tie and the girls have to wear dresses. After the 50's dance class, about half of the kids and parents went to a local favorite pizza place. This is a great group of kids and parents, and we are lucky to have such a fun, safe introduction to preteen socializing.

Remember Headless Barbie

I've often heard that in order for a person to overcome a problem they first have to acknowledge that they have a problem. They have to own it, before they can fix it. So I would like to confess that I am a pack rat. Not only am I a pack rat, but my daughter has picked up on my pack rattishness and she too has become a pack rat. I have to admit that I have trouble throwing away something that I think is perfectly good, because I fear that one day I'll wish I hadn't thrown it away. I know logically that I could run right out and buy something if I needed it, but I can't help thinking, why buy it again if I have it now and can store it for some undetermined amount of time, that doesn't seem like such a long time, especially if I could possibly need it in the future. Right? So that leads me to tell you the story of "Headless Barbie"...

I can't remember exactly when "Headless Barbie" lost her head. I remember it was awhile ago, OK, several years ago, and there were lots of tears and glue. I can't even remember which brother pulled her head off, but my daughter was very sad that Barbies' head could not be successfully glued back on. My daughter absolutely refused to throw "Headless Barbie" away, so she lived among the other Barbies, in the Barbie Box in my daughters room. This Barbie Box contained more Barbies that I care to count, along with all of the different Barbie clothes and accessories. What's a Barbie with out her clothes and accessories?

As you can imagine, "Headless Barbie" did not get invited to participate in any more pageants or fashion shows. She lived a quiet and isolated existence in the Barbie Box, virtually untouched for years. Luckily, her fellow Barbies accepted her and loved her unconditionally, and overlooked her most obvious beauty flaw. Had my daughter not been a pack rat, "Headless Barbie" would have been history. But as fate would have it, "Headless Barbie" was one day called into service, thus making every pack rat's dream come true, the ability to produce something out of the closet that should have been thrown away years ago!

You see, my youngest son had to enter a pumpkin carving contest and he wanted to create a Carnivorous (Girl Scout eating) Pumpkin. Thus the need for a sacrificial Barbie. When my daughter heard of his plan she jumped to her pack rat little feet, and said "I have just the person for your project!", wouldn't you know, she dug out "Headless Barbie" who hadn't seen the light of day in years, and she offered "Headless Barbie" to her little brother, to use in his Pumpkin Contest. I could tell she had that thrill of digging out something she had saved, and finally putting it to good use, and doing that had made her little heart go pitter patter. It's the sign of a happy pack rat.

So, after all those years in the Barbie Box, "Headless Barbie" finally had a purpose. She did a good job as "Headless Barbie" in the Carnivorous Pumpkin, and she and my youngest son won first place in the Funniest Pumpkin Category.

It just goes to show you, that old saying "haste makes waste" could possibly be true, and the next time I'm cleaning out my closet I won't be so hasty in tossing out my old junk, because I'll remember "Headless Barbie"!

Please don't pet the pumpkin

A chill is in the air, at least in the mornings and it dosen't hit 80 until noon, so it must be fall. Time for pumpkin carving, and stocking up on our favorite Halloween candy. Tonight was the Cub Scout pumpking carving contest and I present to you the 1st place winner in the "Funniest Pumpkin" Category... The Carnivorous Girl Scout eating Pumpkin.

Ladies and Gentlemen please do not pet the pumpkin.

Spoiled Bumble Bee

Those of us with children can relate to this familiar tune.

Hi Ho Hi Ho it's off to work we go

We spent our Saturday washing cars. It was a fund raiser, a family event with moms, dads, brothers and sisters. My daughter and her Girl Scout Troop were raising money to fund their service projects. The girls really did a good job washing cars and it was almost a party atmosphere as the girls soaped up cars and sang along with the radio to the tunes of "High School Musical". I could tell as the day wore on, they became less enthusiastic about soaping up the cars and more involved in soaking each other and everyone around them. The grown ups went home with sore muscles and sun burns, but the girls seem full of energy, probably from the gallons of soda and dozens of donuts they had consumed. When we got home, my daughter bounced in the door of the house and said, "That was sooo much fun, when can we do it again!?!". "Hopefully never", I thought to myself, feeling like Grumpy from the 7 dwarfs, I guess I'm officially old.

Total Momsense

It's true kids, Mom's really do know everything.

Good Books and Disgusting Cookies

Have you ever felt like things were careening out of control? Maybe you're like me, I've got too many irons on the fire. That's when I know it's time to sit down with a book and read, ignoring all that swirls around me. I can pick up a good book and hours will fly by. Before I know it, either schools out and I'm late to pick up the kids, or I've burned the dinner, so I've learned to put a timer near by. I definitely don't have ADD, because I can become so absorbed in what I'm doing, especially reading, that I am hopelessly unaware of my surroundings. I don't usually read fiction, but recently I have picked up a few good Christian Fiction books that have gotten me totally hooked on the stuff. Here are my Highly Recommend Christian Fictions each one is the first book in a series:

Redemption (The Redemption Series #1) by Gary Smalley and Karen Kingsbury

Fame (The Firstborn Series book #1) by Karen Kingsbury

Sunrise (The Sunrise Series book#1) by Karen Kingsbury

I recommend reading each series, I've read them all and have thoroughly enjoyed each one.

On another note, I went to my child's school to eat lunch with him today and a friend of his, sitting nearby, decided to tear into his dessert first (wouldn't you if your mom wasn't around). He eagerly picked up his baggy of cookies and began to inspect a particularly delicious looking one. After a few seconds of cookie inspection he burst out in disgust, "Is that a raisin!". He must have felt like his mother had played a trick on him, trying to pass off a yucky raisin cookie for what he though was a delicious chocolate chip cookie. I actually thought the raisin cookie looked lip smackin' good, but that little boy just cast it aside. It got me to thinking about my own contentment with what God has given me. How many times have I casually cast aside his blessings, by not being thankful for what I've been given. Have I forgotten to be thankful for the many irons I do have in the fire, or for that matter, that I have a fire!

Inquiring Minds want to know

The first half of this tale, was my previous post about the Molar Mystery. I did sneak into his room with my flashlight to try to see if he had lost a baby tooth (molar). I thought he was completely asleep, he doesn't fake snoring. So I whipped out my flashlight and went to work prying open his mouth so that I could peer inside. Wouldn't you know, he started to stir and roll around, fighting me off in his sleep. I gave up, not wanting to risk waking him up. I'm such a coward. I started having flashbacks of when he was a baby. The one thing that strikes fear in the heart of a tired mother is the alert and wakeful look on her infants face right after a 2:00 am feeding. Those of you who are mothers, know what I'm talking about don't you. Little Juniors ready to get up for the day and play at 2:00 am and mom's so tired she can't see straight. Scary. So I left my child's Molar Mystery for another day. The next morning he would only let me get the tooth brush in his mouth, but wouldn't open it any further. Now I suspect he's hiding something, maybe a tender spot where a tooth used to be?

It's nice when people think your nice

I'm nice too! Thanks Hol&J

for the really nice "Nice Award" I am honored and will continue to try to be nice. This is my very first online award and I am speechless.

The Inventor

When asked, "what do you want to be when you grow up?", my youngest child will say "an Inventor". He loves to rig up things in his room, and he has motion detectors, electric eye/laser alarms and all kinds of fun stuff he likes to tinker with. I have to be careful when I go in there, I might set off a booby trap, stumble over a tripwire, or set off an alarm of some kind. He says he has to protect his stuff from his big sister, but there's not a thing in his room that she would be interested in. If I can't find the scissors, tape or string, I go to his room and rummage around. He has his own tool box, with real tools. He's built a motorized bug (with a photoelectric sensor so that he can control it with a flashlight), he's built a motor with magnets and batteries, and he uses all of the paper out of my printer to draw up plans for his inventions, which at the moment happens to be a robot. Once when he was 3, he took apart the bathroom scales, because he wanted to see how it worked. I could not figure out how to get it back together, so I just threw it away.

We're Hot!

It's just plain hot. It's so hot around here leaves are falling off of the one tree we have in the backyard. It's really crazy to have to rake leaves in the summer. That's a fall chore, not a summer chore. If I don't get the leaves picked up, they'll all end up in the pool. I've been so fed up with the leaf problem at our house (and so tired of raking them), that yesterday I went to battle against the leaves. I brought out the "big guns". I got out the leaf blower and blew all of the leaves in to a big, huge pile and then I mowed 'em down with the lawn mower. When I was done, there was nothing left but pulverized, mulched, specks of what used to be leaves. I dusted my hands off and put away the mower, I had won. I'm looking outside right now, and low and behold, its as if the tree is mocking me! There are more leaves out there this morning. I guess I should just be thankful for the shade, who cares if the yard looks like no one lives here. In honor of the triple digit temperatures today, I am decreeing no hot meals, just ice cream. Ya think the kids will go for that?