Most of you know that I work for a once a year annual event. Part time. Like half part time. 12ish hours a week.
In a previous decade in another world- I was the event planner for this particular outdoor venue that involves airplanes. I took the job working from home when Allyson was born. It was all consuming. I worked non stop and our house became air show central. But I was home with Allyson- and it was awesome. On more than one occasion I thanked God for the opportunity. Like daily. I would pack around my baby on my hip while visiting printers, committee members and while on phone calls.
And then I became pregnant with Emily. And Dan and I knew that I couldn't do it all with TWO. So when Emi was born I was replaced and then for the next 12 months I was a consultant. And after that I was done.
Then I had Sam.
And when he was almost a year old- I got a call asking if I could consider coming back to work for the show part time, as an office girl, and basically just answer the phones. I agreed, as long as I could pack my traveling circus around with me (bring my kids to work). And I was sucked back in.
Here I sit- 4 years later. And I realize I was dooped. When I heard 'office girl' I envisioned 'stress free', 'can I pass a message', and 'I'll have her call you back'. I should have known better.
It's good. I really like what I do, and I feel strongly for the cause that we serve. So it really is good. But see, last night I had the first of many restless nights dreaming about the upcoming show. And I know that it is only the beginning.
Around 8 weeks before the event, the stress begins to grow, deadlines begin to come due, half part time turns into more than full time and I stop being able to rest. Last nights dream? I neglected to have the credentials prepared and I forgot to show up for the actual weekend of the show. I was glad to wake up.
About this time every year, every spare minute that I can conjure up ends up being spent on air show stuff (and then I go to sleep and dream about all the stuff I have to do.) Somehow office girl has evolved into 'take care of most of the details you used to' girl.
It's started, and it's only February.
I used to get to this point every year and I would think in my head 'just hold your breath and plow through'.
77 days to go. And then this baby can be put to bed for another year. And I can basically be a stay at home mom again.
Ready. Set. Go
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Alert.
I don't want to startle anyone, but I have something fairly scary to inform you of.
Lean in close- I'm going to whisper.
I think there are gremlins living in my house.
I know. Scary right?
See- I spent all day Tuesday picking up and cleaning. I put away hair bands, jewelry, orbeez, squinkies, legos, dog toys, socks, bath robes, I could go on forever. This might be a good time to mention though that NONE of these items were mine. Not one.
But sometimes, as the mom, it is just easier to take some time, put it all away and create a fresh palette to clean. And that was the plan for Tuesday. Not to mention- most of the item owners were at school.
After all items were in their home- I cleaned it all. Rugs, bathrooms, counters, glass, floors. I even sprinkled in a few loads of laundry for good measure.
It was all done. The laundry, the house, all of it.
I went to my bedroom to take a shower, a brief blowdry, some light make up and perhaps a good teeth scrub. Walked down the hallway and BAM!- it was all back.
Dishes in the sink, dishes on the counter, toys sprinkled through like confetti and the laundry baskets were overflowing again. I'm not even joking.
And gremlins must have a thing for Fruity Pebbles, because they were freakin' everywhere.
And I KNOW this can't be blamed on my innocent family, because I swear to you sweet mother of pearl that four people as beautiful and loving as my family could not create this kind of catastrophic mess as quickly as it happens around here.
This is not a one time incident- it is not isolated. This happens dang near every.single.day. Mysterious drips of chocolate milk, anonymous globs of toothpaste, outfits in the laundry that I have never seen on a living breathing body in this house.
It's got to be the Gremlins. Anyone know of a good trap? Cause this is getting old.
Lean in close- I'm going to whisper.
I think there are gremlins living in my house.
I know. Scary right?
See- I spent all day Tuesday picking up and cleaning. I put away hair bands, jewelry, orbeez, squinkies, legos, dog toys, socks, bath robes, I could go on forever. This might be a good time to mention though that NONE of these items were mine. Not one.
But sometimes, as the mom, it is just easier to take some time, put it all away and create a fresh palette to clean. And that was the plan for Tuesday. Not to mention- most of the item owners were at school.
After all items were in their home- I cleaned it all. Rugs, bathrooms, counters, glass, floors. I even sprinkled in a few loads of laundry for good measure.
It was all done. The laundry, the house, all of it.
I went to my bedroom to take a shower, a brief blowdry, some light make up and perhaps a good teeth scrub. Walked down the hallway and BAM!- it was all back.
Dishes in the sink, dishes on the counter, toys sprinkled through like confetti and the laundry baskets were overflowing again. I'm not even joking.
And gremlins must have a thing for Fruity Pebbles, because they were freakin' everywhere.
And I KNOW this can't be blamed on my innocent family, because I swear to you sweet mother of pearl that four people as beautiful and loving as my family could not create this kind of catastrophic mess as quickly as it happens around here.
This is not a one time incident- it is not isolated. This happens dang near every.single.day. Mysterious drips of chocolate milk, anonymous globs of toothpaste, outfits in the laundry that I have never seen on a living breathing body in this house.
It's got to be the Gremlins. Anyone know of a good trap? Cause this is getting old.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
It's been a great season
I can hardly imagine.
Anywho- I have learned a lot this year from this large orange ball and my family. The girls love it. Sam loves running around the walking track with his 'friends'. And Dan and I love it. We all have our reasons- my main one is that it is an indoor sport. But the biggest thing I've learned is that men and woman do children's sports differently. Completely.
At most of emily's games there have been tears. And a few of Allysons. Not enough turns with the ball, getting called for a foul, not getting to bring the ball up when they wanted, shooting at the wrong goal, falling on that horrible hard floor, taking a basketball right between the eyes (poor emily- it even bent her glasses). There have been many tears. (more at emily's games- just for clarification)
The clock does not stop. The game does not stop. The ref doesn't stop. No one stops. Women fight the urge to run onto the court, hoist their baby onto their hips and pat their little backs. Men scream 'dry it up', 'keep going', 'you're fine', 'hustle up'. And then those little tearful girls do just that. And they really are fine.
As I watch one of my children play- my brain is filled with overwhelmed feelings of their current life state, how big they are, how blessed I am to be their parent, how I love their piggy tails, how curvy their small baby bodies are becoming, how their chubby little elbows have dimples, how very tall and beautiful they are becoming, how much I love them..................and then I get snapped back to reality by their father who, out of no freakin' where, screams "GET YOUR D ON" or "MAKE A LANE". Not even at our children. He is watching the actual game.
At the end of the game Dan knows the score. I typically do not.
During the game I know exactly where Sam is. Dan typically does not.
When one of my children is sitting out for a period- I stop watching the game. Dan definitely does not. He is still screaming strange things over the railing. The whole time. The strangest thing I screamed over the railing the entire season????? 'Ally- put your hair up.'
What? She looked hot.
See. Mothers watch their children. Fathers watch the game.
That is why most of the coaches are men. Because women coaches would spend their time fixing the girls hair while packing them around on their hips and doling out Kleenex and bandaids.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
This post will not be worth the time you will spend reading it. You have been warned.
My children are getting to the age where they want to push the shopping cart. Not Ally- she's long past that time period. But Sam and Emily are right there. And every time we enter a drug store (which is a lot lately because of their frickity frackin sales and my teeny tiny coupon obsession) they ask to push the cart. I suppose I understand, they look like miniature little shopping carts- and I typically have to hunch over to be able to push it- but the answer it always NO.
You think I didn't ever want to push the shopping cart, fruits of my loins? Heck yeah I did. Did I ever get to? Um- actually I did, but the only times I remember end with me slamming the cart into my moms heels and then strangely not pushing the cart anylonger. That information aside- the answer is still NO. I have waited my whole entire life for this privilege. To get to decide how fast we walk, what aisles we will peruse, and when we will stop moving. I no longer have a baby to rock and talk to and try to calm while holding it and pushing the cart. This grocery business is finally making a turn for the better (as long as I don't take all three children at one time- that is a complete disaster that always ends with yelling and me being a redfaced sweaty mess). I GET TO PUSH THE CART.
Thems the rules. I'm pushing the cart.
But I will drive wayyyyyy out of my way to shop at a store that offers those tiny little shopping carts for the kids. No joking. I've even switched to higher priced stores because they had them and the kids actually loved going shopping there. And then all of their little carts got stolen, they didn't buy anymore and I switched back to the cheaper store. I'm kind of flighty like that.
The only problem with the little carts is that Sam is forever forgetting his. He loads it up with groceries that I asign him, we'll round a corner, shop for yogurt, head to eggs and I will look down and there he is without his cart. When asked about it- his eyes pop open and we get to retrace our steps until we find it. We do this at least 4-5 times per shopping trip. 6 if they have one of those dag gone die cast car displays at the end of the cereal aisle. The kid goes into a trance as soon as we get near it and he MUST carefully touch and sort and arrange all of those glistening beauties.
On another note- who else remembers riding on the bottom of the shopping cart???? I remember sitting cross legged under there the whole shopping trip, just hanging out. Or I would lay down super man style- like I was flying. Why are we not allowed to do this anylonger? There are even pictures on the cart indicating that we can't do this anymore. Aside from possible finger smashage, what would the possible harm be? And wouldn't the entire store be grateful to have that small blonde kid out of the center of the aisle? (seriously- I must say 'sam, move over here, there's a lady that needs to get by' like 2000 times during one shopping trip).
Whatev. Either way- I'm pushing the cart.
Anyone know of any groceries that have alcohol sample ladies?
My children are getting to the age where they want to push the shopping cart. Not Ally- she's long past that time period. But Sam and Emily are right there. And every time we enter a drug store (which is a lot lately because of their frickity frackin sales and my teeny tiny coupon obsession) they ask to push the cart. I suppose I understand, they look like miniature little shopping carts- and I typically have to hunch over to be able to push it- but the answer it always NO.
You think I didn't ever want to push the shopping cart, fruits of my loins? Heck yeah I did. Did I ever get to? Um- actually I did, but the only times I remember end with me slamming the cart into my moms heels and then strangely not pushing the cart anylonger. That information aside- the answer is still NO. I have waited my whole entire life for this privilege. To get to decide how fast we walk, what aisles we will peruse, and when we will stop moving. I no longer have a baby to rock and talk to and try to calm while holding it and pushing the cart. This grocery business is finally making a turn for the better (as long as I don't take all three children at one time- that is a complete disaster that always ends with yelling and me being a redfaced sweaty mess). I GET TO PUSH THE CART.
Thems the rules. I'm pushing the cart.
But I will drive wayyyyyy out of my way to shop at a store that offers those tiny little shopping carts for the kids. No joking. I've even switched to higher priced stores because they had them and the kids actually loved going shopping there. And then all of their little carts got stolen, they didn't buy anymore and I switched back to the cheaper store. I'm kind of flighty like that.
The only problem with the little carts is that Sam is forever forgetting his. He loads it up with groceries that I asign him, we'll round a corner, shop for yogurt, head to eggs and I will look down and there he is without his cart. When asked about it- his eyes pop open and we get to retrace our steps until we find it. We do this at least 4-5 times per shopping trip. 6 if they have one of those dag gone die cast car displays at the end of the cereal aisle. The kid goes into a trance as soon as we get near it and he MUST carefully touch and sort and arrange all of those glistening beauties.
On another note- who else remembers riding on the bottom of the shopping cart???? I remember sitting cross legged under there the whole shopping trip, just hanging out. Or I would lay down super man style- like I was flying. Why are we not allowed to do this anylonger? There are even pictures on the cart indicating that we can't do this anymore. Aside from possible finger smashage, what would the possible harm be? And wouldn't the entire store be grateful to have that small blonde kid out of the center of the aisle? (seriously- I must say 'sam, move over here, there's a lady that needs to get by' like 2000 times during one shopping trip).
Whatev. Either way- I'm pushing the cart.
Anyone know of any groceries that have alcohol sample ladies?
Monday, February 21, 2011
I got my eye on you
Tuesday one of the little girls from down the street came to our front door with a giant gift bag covered in pink and red hearts. Inside were two handmade valentines- one for emily and one for sam. She also included a book for each selected from her personal library, heart shaped chocolates for emi sue and a batman glasses case for sam.
Awwww. I love to see little kids hand writing.
Happy Day. We love you too.
How sweet.
She even picked blue paper for my little man. How very swe.............what does that say up there in the corner?
What!!!! I love you? Clearly on emily's she says 'I Love Friends'- but on Sam's?????? She loves HIM.
I got my eye on you girl. I know your type- all swooshy with the batman glasses cases and Golden Book Readers, and then BAM! you are out for the family inheritance and my little man's heart. You'll leave him for some high rollin' daddy'o and drive my poor little broken hearted blonde boy to drinkin'.
No way missy. I'm watchin you.
Momma hawk is on the case.
Friday, February 18, 2011
What do you think this is, a democracy?
You don't get no stinkin' vote.
What are we having for dinner- no vote.
What are your chores for the week- no vote.
What is going to be on the car radio- who am I kidding, I totally let you pick that.
But what shirt I am going to wear while driving the car?- no vote.
What brand of yogurt I am going to buy? it's all in the coupons darling- no vote.
What's that? You don't want milk with your lunch? Sorry- no vote.
You don't feel like brushing your teeth? NO VOTE.
You guys get to bust out with fevers on a whim, wake up puking ever so rudely in the middle of the night and drag home heads full of crazy little critters. And on all of these issues I get absolutely no vote.
As to how I am going to function and run our home, the same is true for you. No.Vote.
Now go and hang your coat up and put your shoes on the tray. Cause that's how it is.
What are we having for dinner- no vote.
What are your chores for the week- no vote.
What is going to be on the car radio- who am I kidding, I totally let you pick that.
But what shirt I am going to wear while driving the car?- no vote.
What brand of yogurt I am going to buy? it's all in the coupons darling- no vote.
What's that? You don't want milk with your lunch? Sorry- no vote.
You don't feel like brushing your teeth? NO VOTE.
You guys get to bust out with fevers on a whim, wake up puking ever so rudely in the middle of the night and drag home heads full of crazy little critters. And on all of these issues I get absolutely no vote.
As to how I am going to function and run our home, the same is true for you. No.Vote.
Now go and hang your coat up and put your shoes on the tray. Cause that's how it is.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
'Who let YOU in here?'
Yesterday Sam and I may have kinda played hookey a little bit and spent the afternoon at the children's museum. Just Sam and just me. He got to pick the places to go and how long to stay there. This was monumental for Sam. And me.
Taking just one child to the museum is something I have not done in years. Seven years to be exact. There were even a few years that we didn't go there at all because taking all three once Sam started walking became just too difficult. So this new season of our life, where going places is easier, doing things is more enjoyable, and even getting one on one time occasionally is a nice change of pace.
Except every single other person in the joint was pregnant. And if not pregnant, carrying a newborn. Seriously newborn, like probably on their way home from the hospital. Or pushing a stroller holding some cute round baby. All of them. Well, except the grandparents who were there pushing around strollers full of round drooly babies. All of them- their freakin' babies or pregnant bellies- and us. The children's museum is no place, apparently, for a woman whose uterus aches every time she is reminded that it will forever be empty.
But I was comforting myself with my new season jargan. I'm trying really hard to embrace that my time to bring new life into the world is done, and my hands are really full anyway. I love my children and they are so awesome and fulfilling and make me happy. Which is why one more couldn't be bad. Stop that. Too much laundry, lack of patience, no time for all of the important stuff. Not much cash, braces are expensive, book rental is expensive, sweet mother of pearl little league is expensive. Three is enough. Three is perfect. Three is more than I ever thought I might get to have. I was so afraid I would never even get one. In my heart I ALWAYS wanted four. But three is perfect. And enough.
And then I'd turn around and BAM! Some giant bellied pregnant happy lady with thick hair and strong nails. Poop. It started all over.
And then I got to thinking. I wonder if God has never taken this desire away for a reason. I've prayed about it, I've begged Him to take away this yearning (or give the desire back to Dan). But it is still there. Even as we get farther away from the time that would have been 'right' to have another, I can't shake it.
And then I had almost an epiphany of sorts. My heart almost felt relieved as I realized that maybe it's because He has a plan that will bring another child into our home. Maybe He does need us to be foster parents and just needs me to keep that option open. And He does that by making me want to kick pregnant women.
I've always wanted to be a foster family. But Dan and I decided we would wait until a later season of our life, one where the children would be old enough to understand what is going on. Where they would be safer, and less confused. And be able to love freely and pray openly for the children that would come and go from our life. A season that I think might be dawning. I felt peace wash over me like a river. And I actually helped the pregnant lady up off the ground from where I had knocked her out of my line of vision.
Sam and I ventured to the Playscapes area, a special spot for kids ages 5 and under only. He hadn't been in this area for well over a year. I knew he would remember how awesome it was and LOVE spending time in there playing. We walked in and instead of running straight to the water table, like he has ALWAYS done, he hung with me. He looked around. Walked past the water. Past the sand. Past the giant front loader that he ALWAYS used to sit in. Played with the wooden trains for a moment. Came back by the play house without even venturing in. He played on the floating river raft thing. He did spend about 20 minutes or so making all kinds of great rubbings of seahorses, trains and a fish.
Then he looked at me ever so seriously with his little hands tucked in his pockets and said "Let's get out of here, this place smells like a giant babies diaper". And so we left.
Goodbye Playscapes, I'm afraid our time in your world has come and gone. But only until we see what God has planned next. You might never see Sam again, but I might be back! Worst case scenario I will be one of those grandparents with the strollers.
*No pregnant woman were harmed in our actual visit to the museum.
Taking just one child to the museum is something I have not done in years. Seven years to be exact. There were even a few years that we didn't go there at all because taking all three once Sam started walking became just too difficult. So this new season of our life, where going places is easier, doing things is more enjoyable, and even getting one on one time occasionally is a nice change of pace.
Except every single other person in the joint was pregnant. And if not pregnant, carrying a newborn. Seriously newborn, like probably on their way home from the hospital. Or pushing a stroller holding some cute round baby. All of them. Well, except the grandparents who were there pushing around strollers full of round drooly babies. All of them- their freakin' babies or pregnant bellies- and us. The children's museum is no place, apparently, for a woman whose uterus aches every time she is reminded that it will forever be empty.
But I was comforting myself with my new season jargan. I'm trying really hard to embrace that my time to bring new life into the world is done, and my hands are really full anyway. I love my children and they are so awesome and fulfilling and make me happy. Which is why one more couldn't be bad. Stop that. Too much laundry, lack of patience, no time for all of the important stuff. Not much cash, braces are expensive, book rental is expensive, sweet mother of pearl little league is expensive. Three is enough. Three is perfect. Three is more than I ever thought I might get to have. I was so afraid I would never even get one. In my heart I ALWAYS wanted four. But three is perfect. And enough.
And then I'd turn around and BAM! Some giant bellied pregnant happy lady with thick hair and strong nails. Poop. It started all over.
And then I got to thinking. I wonder if God has never taken this desire away for a reason. I've prayed about it, I've begged Him to take away this yearning (or give the desire back to Dan). But it is still there. Even as we get farther away from the time that would have been 'right' to have another, I can't shake it.
And then I had almost an epiphany of sorts. My heart almost felt relieved as I realized that maybe it's because He has a plan that will bring another child into our home. Maybe He does need us to be foster parents and just needs me to keep that option open. And He does that by making me want to kick pregnant women.
I've always wanted to be a foster family. But Dan and I decided we would wait until a later season of our life, one where the children would be old enough to understand what is going on. Where they would be safer, and less confused. And be able to love freely and pray openly for the children that would come and go from our life. A season that I think might be dawning. I felt peace wash over me like a river. And I actually helped the pregnant lady up off the ground from where I had knocked her out of my line of vision.
Sam and I ventured to the Playscapes area, a special spot for kids ages 5 and under only. He hadn't been in this area for well over a year. I knew he would remember how awesome it was and LOVE spending time in there playing. We walked in and instead of running straight to the water table, like he has ALWAYS done, he hung with me. He looked around. Walked past the water. Past the sand. Past the giant front loader that he ALWAYS used to sit in. Played with the wooden trains for a moment. Came back by the play house without even venturing in. He played on the floating river raft thing. He did spend about 20 minutes or so making all kinds of great rubbings of seahorses, trains and a fish.
Then he looked at me ever so seriously with his little hands tucked in his pockets and said "Let's get out of here, this place smells like a giant babies diaper". And so we left.
Goodbye Playscapes, I'm afraid our time in your world has come and gone. But only until we see what God has planned next. You might never see Sam again, but I might be back! Worst case scenario I will be one of those grandparents with the strollers.
*No pregnant woman were harmed in our actual visit to the museum.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
We got us some class
Every year, for many years now, on the evening of St. Valentines, we go out for a special candle light dinner.
At White Castle. Its a tradition.
And if you ever find yourself wanting to go, you had better make a reservation.
Because the place is packed, and you are seated by reservation only. They even turn around one of the trash cans and drape a table clothe over it to make a hostess stand. And anything that will stand still has some kind of glittery heart taped to it.
And you get to keep your commemorative menu, a server takes your order at the table, they have semi real looking flowers in vases, candles (but ours never was lit), table clothes and complimentary nacho appetizers and the fanciest valentine cupcakes for dessert I have ever seen. And we got to keep the giant heart rings- bonus!
It is one of my favorite parts of the whole entire year. I'm not even joking.
Don't be jealous, not everyone can be as high class as we are.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
BOOYAH!
Saturday morning I arose with the alarm to begin preparations for the day that lied ahead. A day that was jam packed moment to moment and only a strategic plan with a specific play by play could keep that train from derailing. And I was on it.
There I was in the laundry room firing up the iron. I hadn't even had a cup of coffee- this task had to play out while I waited on my perfectly brewed perfection to finish dripping. Two stacks of small stars, one for each kid. I knew which stack was whose, mostly. And I yawned, wiped the hair from my eyes, and began ironing them onto their sleeves. These are the 'awards' they earn each week at basketball. One for attending practice and remembering the memory verse from the week before, and one for how they contributed the most in the game. And they carry them with pride upon their sleeves.
As I stood there waiting on the iron to heat up, I decide to crawl under the ironing board to unload the dryer so I could throw the next waiting load in to begin it's drying process. Crawl back out and start another load of wash- may as well, right?
Wake the kids, feed them, dress them, make sure emily's uniform is on right (and that she was actually wearing socks this time), gather paper work, print girl scout troop reminder slips and into the car we went. Time to pick up 69 cases of girlscout cookies for Allyson's troop. Cookies are important to a troop, and to girlscouts, because they earn patches. And money.
Got there right on time, presented my form I remembered to print when I entered the initial order (which was also on time), loaded up my cookies and off we went to deliver and sort. For the next two hours we split up cases into individual girl orders for the troop, reviewed info with the other co-cookie mom, and we were back in the car.
Stop at the post office, the one with people lined clear out of the door. Wait in line for 24 minutes while playing I Spy with two children who couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Finally get our moment to mail a small care package to a favorite college student of ours and we truck back across the parking lot to the car.
Swing into the CVS to grab bottled waters and a box of nutrigrain bars for the upcoming game. Try and manage the fighting and arguing between the same two children. Leave in a huff while somehow managing to not completely loose my cool. Pick up grandma and fly up to the church for a basketball game. We arrive early, for one of the first times in the entire season.
After the game, return home to clean up for another exit, this time to the church for one of the most beautiful valentine dinners ever. Come back home, clean up children, bag up cookie orders for church the next morning, couple more loads of laundry, jammify kids and collapse in a heap.
This day was not much different from the others. As a mother, I keep money in the lunch accounts, pick up prescriptions, manage our grocery inventory, schedule dental cleanings, attend pta meetings, remember to provide cookies or snacks on assigned days, track all activities and organize (or at least try to) the lives of all five of us.
I want a star. Or a badge. Or a patch. Why don't the mommas get some kind of significant something to signify the completion of their tasks? And as soon as I thought this, I knew the answer.
Because it would just be living proof that I fall short. Other moms would get different colored stars for doing things differently, more efficiently, better, etc. And it would just start the whole thing all over. It would prove nothing and just be hurtful in the end. We do this work of raising a family for the glory of God, and perhaps He is knitting jewels into our crowns in heaven. But even if He isn't, that is alright. Because we mothers and fathers are doing His work- and the children in our homes are blessings, and I know this with all of my heart.
Plus I swiped a handful of leftover girl scout badges and basketball stars and I'm gonna make my own vest.
There I was in the laundry room firing up the iron. I hadn't even had a cup of coffee- this task had to play out while I waited on my perfectly brewed perfection to finish dripping. Two stacks of small stars, one for each kid. I knew which stack was whose, mostly. And I yawned, wiped the hair from my eyes, and began ironing them onto their sleeves. These are the 'awards' they earn each week at basketball. One for attending practice and remembering the memory verse from the week before, and one for how they contributed the most in the game. And they carry them with pride upon their sleeves.
As I stood there waiting on the iron to heat up, I decide to crawl under the ironing board to unload the dryer so I could throw the next waiting load in to begin it's drying process. Crawl back out and start another load of wash- may as well, right?
Wake the kids, feed them, dress them, make sure emily's uniform is on right (and that she was actually wearing socks this time), gather paper work, print girl scout troop reminder slips and into the car we went. Time to pick up 69 cases of girlscout cookies for Allyson's troop. Cookies are important to a troop, and to girlscouts, because they earn patches. And money.
Got there right on time, presented my form I remembered to print when I entered the initial order (which was also on time), loaded up my cookies and off we went to deliver and sort. For the next two hours we split up cases into individual girl orders for the troop, reviewed info with the other co-cookie mom, and we were back in the car.
Stop at the post office, the one with people lined clear out of the door. Wait in line for 24 minutes while playing I Spy with two children who couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Finally get our moment to mail a small care package to a favorite college student of ours and we truck back across the parking lot to the car.
Swing into the CVS to grab bottled waters and a box of nutrigrain bars for the upcoming game. Try and manage the fighting and arguing between the same two children. Leave in a huff while somehow managing to not completely loose my cool. Pick up grandma and fly up to the church for a basketball game. We arrive early, for one of the first times in the entire season.
After the game, return home to clean up for another exit, this time to the church for one of the most beautiful valentine dinners ever. Come back home, clean up children, bag up cookie orders for church the next morning, couple more loads of laundry, jammify kids and collapse in a heap.
This day was not much different from the others. As a mother, I keep money in the lunch accounts, pick up prescriptions, manage our grocery inventory, schedule dental cleanings, attend pta meetings, remember to provide cookies or snacks on assigned days, track all activities and organize (or at least try to) the lives of all five of us.
I want a star. Or a badge. Or a patch. Why don't the mommas get some kind of significant something to signify the completion of their tasks? And as soon as I thought this, I knew the answer.
Because it would just be living proof that I fall short. Other moms would get different colored stars for doing things differently, more efficiently, better, etc. And it would just start the whole thing all over. It would prove nothing and just be hurtful in the end. We do this work of raising a family for the glory of God, and perhaps He is knitting jewels into our crowns in heaven. But even if He isn't, that is alright. Because we mothers and fathers are doing His work- and the children in our homes are blessings, and I know this with all of my heart.
Plus I swiped a handful of leftover girl scout badges and basketball stars and I'm gonna make my own vest.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The day for love
In other Goble news- today I will be dropping off 48 non-homemade store packaged cookies for Emily's valentine class party. No room mothers are allowed. We just drop the cookies and run. And I'm good with that. She picked out puppy/kitty valentines, and a package of lightning mcqueen's for the boys. And she sat and handwrote each one and sealed it with a heart sticker. She is such a sweet child. And on my desk, a puppy valentine with the sweetest 'MOM' written across the front. She is my sweet emily valentine girl. And the cookies she picked? Not the higher priced sugar cookies gorged with pink and red frosting or the sandwich kind. Nooo. She wanted snickerdoodles- and the plain m&m ones. She was certain everyone would like those. I am too, because she is.
Allyson is old enough that they no longer bring valentines to school. The teacher even reminded them that they are not having a party, and are not to bring valentines. They did have a smencil pencil sale where they could buy one and have it sent to a classmate today. My heart really hopes she gets one. But she 'forgot' to buy any for her friends, so the cards are not stacked in her favor.
Oh- and she won to represent her class in the spelling bee. She was so pumped, and proud. She came busting in the door to tell me. We studied the list of 400 words, and we focused on the really hard ones since she is a fabulous speller and knows the basic words. Big spelling bee day comes, she asks that I not come to watch so she won't be nervous or embarrassed (this was the preliminary round so I obliged). Her word............STOOL. STEWL. Uhg. Words of advice, practice the simple words too so that they don't assume their word must be harder than it sounds. Poor thing, but she doesn't seem to care. What a great kid she is.
All three actually just have my heart so full this morning that I am glad it is valentines day and I get to shower them with homemade heart lollipops, heart shaped chocolate chip pancakes, their very own box of conversation hearts, special love notes and tonight dinner reservations for them, me and my bestest husband at our favorite valentines restaurant. White Castle.
It's gonna be a good love filled day. Hope yours is too.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Friday, February 11, 2011
And the winner is.....
I must admit- when I said Sam would draw the winner on Friday, I never dreamed that the kid would have been up since 4:30AM. He was just wide awake. And has been ever since. So here we sit at 6:30am, drawin' our winner.
Uhg.
Here are everyones names that got thrown in the sack.
And the moment you've all been waiting for- the lucky winner is..............
Miss Pennie! Congratulations- you have won a $25 gift certificate to CSN Stores!
(Might I take a moment to disclose that Miss Pennie is a very special woman to me- one that has ALWAYS been in my life. In fact, she remembers when I was a poop of a baby that cried all the time, she received many a homemade christmas ornaments from yours truly as a child, she served cake at my wedding and hosted my baby shower in her home. She and her husband are two of my favorite people in the world and I love them both very much! Thank you Miss Pennie, for being you!)
Uhg.
(Might I take a moment to disclose that Miss Pennie is a very special woman to me- one that has ALWAYS been in my life. In fact, she remembers when I was a poop of a baby that cried all the time, she received many a homemade christmas ornaments from yours truly as a child, she served cake at my wedding and hosted my baby shower in her home. She and her husband are two of my favorite people in the world and I love them both very much! Thank you Miss Pennie, for being you!)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
9 hours 32 minutes
Thats right- if you are reading this and you have yet to sign up for my first every give away (a $25 Gift Certificate to CSN Home Stores)- click on over -----> here <------------- and post a comment. You just might want to enter as the only other stuff I have to give away is a broken can opener and a 15 year old vacume.
Sam is gonna draw a winner in the morning!!!! (for the gift certificate- not the can opener)
Sam is gonna draw a winner in the morning!!!! (for the gift certificate- not the can opener)
May the force be with you
So, the day we've all been waiting for. Somehow I think Ally has been counting down the days with anticipation, I've been dreading it my whole life. Both anxious- for total opposite reasons.
Sex Ed Film Day.
The film is called something about Growing Up and last night was the parents preview. Dozens of us anxious parents gathered in the media center, preparing our hearts for what was about to transpire. There was no mention of the stork, no mention of God, no mention of 'don't do it or your teeth will fall out'. Apparently 'values' fall under the parents responsibilities. They were there to show them what was going on in those rapidly growing, hormone infested bodies and what would be the eventual outcome.
They discuss the girls monthly visitors, how to use items needed to deal with that guest, what happens during ovulation, what boys bodies are doing, why girls are taller than boys and they show a pregnant woman. There was even a little cartoon time where 'if one sperm joins with one egg a baby begins to grow'. Which means we are all safe, as long as no one asks how they meet.
No such luck. They talk about sex, what it is, and they do preach abstinence to keep yourself safe and healthy. I guess it's up to me to discuss the teeth falling out thing.
I found it interesting that they said the more often you disuss this 'sex' topic with young children, and include your personal families values in that discussion, the more likely it is to stick. Which means that the one time I had this very serious discussion with ally (the one where my heart was beating 3000 beats a minute and I thought I was gonna die) and made sure she was looking in my eyes and we both were a little embarrassed was not enough. I need to find a way to not sweat everytime I think of talking with her about this.
I can do this. I signed up on the parenting volunteer board and God trusted me with three of them. Now, I just hope I don't completely screw it up.
P.S.- Dan ( I know you are out there)- you get to take care of Sam and whatever issues his boy parts need- got it? But be sure to talk about his teeth falling out- and going blind.
After the meeting was over, I felt this huge urge to huddle with the other parents and put our hands in while chanting 'go team!' Instead I just found another couple who share similar values to us and asked when they were going to have their 'talk' so I could send ally over.
I swear I can't handle this.
Sex Ed Film Day.
The film is called something about Growing Up and last night was the parents preview. Dozens of us anxious parents gathered in the media center, preparing our hearts for what was about to transpire. There was no mention of the stork, no mention of God, no mention of 'don't do it or your teeth will fall out'. Apparently 'values' fall under the parents responsibilities. They were there to show them what was going on in those rapidly growing, hormone infested bodies and what would be the eventual outcome.
They discuss the girls monthly visitors, how to use items needed to deal with that guest, what happens during ovulation, what boys bodies are doing, why girls are taller than boys and they show a pregnant woman. There was even a little cartoon time where 'if one sperm joins with one egg a baby begins to grow'. Which means we are all safe, as long as no one asks how they meet.
No such luck. They talk about sex, what it is, and they do preach abstinence to keep yourself safe and healthy. I guess it's up to me to discuss the teeth falling out thing.
I found it interesting that they said the more often you disuss this 'sex' topic with young children, and include your personal families values in that discussion, the more likely it is to stick. Which means that the one time I had this very serious discussion with ally (the one where my heart was beating 3000 beats a minute and I thought I was gonna die) and made sure she was looking in my eyes and we both were a little embarrassed was not enough. I need to find a way to not sweat everytime I think of talking with her about this.
I can do this. I signed up on the parenting volunteer board and God trusted me with three of them. Now, I just hope I don't completely screw it up.
P.S.- Dan ( I know you are out there)- you get to take care of Sam and whatever issues his boy parts need- got it? But be sure to talk about his teeth falling out- and going blind.
After the meeting was over, I felt this huge urge to huddle with the other parents and put our hands in while chanting 'go team!' Instead I just found another couple who share similar values to us and asked when they were going to have their 'talk' so I could send ally over.
I swear I can't handle this.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Cloud Nine!
Might I just say that yesterday was one of the most exciting days I've had in a while! I LOVED getting all of those comments and I am hoping for a few more, a girl can hope right? So if you are reading this, and you haven't entered the contest of the century (not really- but it's still good)- please click over there and post a comment and you'll be entered! And I'll have more of my 'crack'. It's a win win.
In the mean time- I'll just be over here freezing my behind off. And listening to the kids complain about not knowing where their hats and scarves are (hint hint- remember the time you put them all over the snowmen in the front yard and left them there????)
Uhg.
And to Lois- of course it's okay that you read my blog! In fact, it makes my entire world so very happy! THANK YOU, everyone who might ever read this, for wanting to loose minutes of your life that you will never get back reading about my crazy little world.
Uhg.
And to Lois- of course it's okay that you read my blog! In fact, it makes my entire world so very happy! THANK YOU, everyone who might ever read this, for wanting to loose minutes of your life that you will never get back reading about my crazy little world.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
A super big giant huge exciting day for my whittle baby blog!
Today (and the rest of the week really)- just because you are a lucky ducky- you get a chance to win something. And this something is really cool. I have been offered the opportunity to give away a one-time-use $25 gift certificate (does not include shipping fees, but can be used on any product from one of their 200+ websites!!!) to CSN Stores!!! They sell everything from kids swing sets to blankets to pots and pans. (and they have a rockin' clearance section I might add). CSN can only ship to the US and Canada- so they asked that I make sure whoever wins lives in one of those two places- so consider yourself warned.
I have never ordered from CSN- but I too entered a blog contest and lost miserably when a small toddler boy chose not to draw my name. Maybe you'll be luckier??? More lucky? Have more luck? What is the proper way to say that???
Wanna win? Leave a comment- and if you are anonymous that is completely fine (cause I've heard tale that comments on blogger don't work very well sometimes)- but include your first name and the state where ya live so that when I post my big giant winner blog we will know if it is you. And because I have just a handful of folks who actually read my mindless dribble- you will have HUGE odds of winning!!
One entry per person, I'm gonna draw the winner on Friday 2/11/11 so you have to enter before then, and when I say I'm gonna draw- I mean Sam is going to draw. Because he can't read. I'll put all your names in hat/bowl/jar/something and let him pick one out. And then ta da! The winner gets to pick out something cool and I get three whole days of anticipation and excitement in comments on my silly blog!
You have your crack, I have mine.
And comments on my blog- they are like crack. Can't.get.enough.
Now, mind you, I've never tried real crack. But I've heard it's addicting, and exhilarating and you can't get enough. It also can kill you- so see, my crack is better. Getting a comment on my blog totally makes my entire day. Whether it's from a friend, a family member (hi mom!) or (and this is like the ultimate!) a complete stranger!!! A new bloggy friend! Yay!
When I see that a comment has been put on my old blog, I savor it. Sometimes I don't read it right away. Sometimes I enjoy it for a while, knowing I get to read it later. Usually I read it right that very second. See- just like crack. Blog crack.
The point of all of this is, today I am hoping for a lot of crack comments in the next three days. Other blogs have lots of big exciting give aways. This is my first, and probably the last for a while (but who knows!) That show off pioneer woman even buys her own stuff to give away. I will not be doing that. Some get all kinds of stuff given to them to review and give away (a far off distant day dream for my blog). But me- I didn't get a thing, except the extreme anticipation that I might get a comment or two.
Good luck. Go team. Power to the people. Ready, set, go!
(I'm nervous, like a new momma. I wonder how this is gonna turn out : )
I have never ordered from CSN- but I too entered a blog contest and lost miserably when a small toddler boy chose not to draw my name. Maybe you'll be luckier??? More lucky? Have more luck? What is the proper way to say that???
Wanna win? Leave a comment- and if you are anonymous that is completely fine (cause I've heard tale that comments on blogger don't work very well sometimes)- but include your first name and the state where ya live so that when I post my big giant winner blog we will know if it is you. And because I have just a handful of folks who actually read my mindless dribble- you will have HUGE odds of winning!!
One entry per person, I'm gonna draw the winner on Friday 2/11/11 so you have to enter before then, and when I say I'm gonna draw- I mean Sam is going to draw. Because he can't read. I'll put all your names in hat/bowl/jar/something and let him pick one out. And then ta da! The winner gets to pick out something cool and I get three whole days of anticipation and excitement in comments on my silly blog!
You have your crack, I have mine.
And comments on my blog- they are like crack. Can't.get.enough.
Now, mind you, I've never tried real crack. But I've heard it's addicting, and exhilarating and you can't get enough. It also can kill you- so see, my crack is better. Getting a comment on my blog totally makes my entire day. Whether it's from a friend, a family member (hi mom!) or (and this is like the ultimate!) a complete stranger!!! A new bloggy friend! Yay!
When I see that a comment has been put on my old blog, I savor it. Sometimes I don't read it right away. Sometimes I enjoy it for a while, knowing I get to read it later. Usually I read it right that very second. See- just like crack. Blog crack.
The point of all of this is, today I am hoping for a lot of crack comments in the next three days. Other blogs have lots of big exciting give aways. This is my first, and probably the last for a while (but who knows!) That show off pioneer woman even buys her own stuff to give away. I will not be doing that. Some get all kinds of stuff given to them to review and give away (a far off distant day dream for my blog). But me- I didn't get a thing, except the extreme anticipation that I might get a comment or two.
Good luck. Go team. Power to the people. Ready, set, go!
(I'm nervous, like a new momma. I wonder how this is gonna turn out : )
Monday, February 7, 2011
Did I fail to mention?
I have met the smartest man on earth.
No really- I have. I didn't even realize it. I have spent a couple of weeks thinking about the situation that transpired, and every single time it makes me smile. He is a genious man, and I didn't even realize it
Allow me to paint you a picture..........
It was the afternoon of Emily's party. Parents begin arriving at our home with their sparkling 6 year olds with big expectations of fabulous crafts and home made confectionairies. I was covered in powerdered sugar and stuck in the kitchen trying to finish up that triple batch of buttercream frosting. I didn't even get to put on my party shirt, or mascara. I just shouted pleasantries from my mixer while greeting the girls and begging Allyson to assist with their coats.
Kisses, hugs, promises of a two hour return. Parents leave. Girls gone crazy wild, giggling and chatting and anxiously awaiting the start of the party. After about 10 minutes of get acquainted time, I call the girls to the dining room so we can get the show on the road. Here they come, 1,2,3,4,5............sam and a small four year old boy, 6, 7 WAIT A MINUTE.
Who is that small boy child??? One of the girls little brothers of course. Her dad brought them in, gave both of their coats to Allyson and bid me farewell. And left them there. Both of them. The invited small girl child............and her brother.
Huh.
Of course I didn't mind, and Sam actually was thrilled to have someone to play with. But I just had no idea he was there until his dad wasn't. And still, while thinking about it, I laugh. The man is a genious. And I apparently need to pay a whole lot more attention.
And take notes from the genious dad.
No really- I have. I didn't even realize it. I have spent a couple of weeks thinking about the situation that transpired, and every single time it makes me smile. He is a genious man, and I didn't even realize it
Allow me to paint you a picture..........
It was the afternoon of Emily's party. Parents begin arriving at our home with their sparkling 6 year olds with big expectations of fabulous crafts and home made confectionairies. I was covered in powerdered sugar and stuck in the kitchen trying to finish up that triple batch of buttercream frosting. I didn't even get to put on my party shirt, or mascara. I just shouted pleasantries from my mixer while greeting the girls and begging Allyson to assist with their coats.
Kisses, hugs, promises of a two hour return. Parents leave. Girls gone crazy wild, giggling and chatting and anxiously awaiting the start of the party. After about 10 minutes of get acquainted time, I call the girls to the dining room so we can get the show on the road. Here they come, 1,2,3,4,5............sam and a small four year old boy, 6, 7 WAIT A MINUTE.
Who is that small boy child??? One of the girls little brothers of course. Her dad brought them in, gave both of their coats to Allyson and bid me farewell. And left them there. Both of them. The invited small girl child............and her brother.
Huh.
Of course I didn't mind, and Sam actually was thrilled to have someone to play with. But I just had no idea he was there until his dad wasn't. And still, while thinking about it, I laugh. The man is a genious. And I apparently need to pay a whole lot more attention.
And take notes from the genious dad.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Monster Jam
The land of opportunity.
The happiest place on earth.
The place the dreams are made of........................if you're a boy.
Which I am not............so me and the girls dodged this monster truck bullet and went to the mall and dinner instead.
(check out my super cool nephew on the JUMBO TRON!)
And Dan took Sam and our nephew to inhale exhaust and walk in mud.
It's what all the good parents are doing.
I'm thinking Sam may have just asked this gal to be his bride. A woman monster truck driver.....dreamy.
Motorcycle Motorcross Man and our Midget Men.
Holy Smokes those things are HUGE!
I find it very interesting how artsy the track was. I'm sure the boys didn't even notice.
Pure. Raw. Happiness.
Only a son of Dan's could fall asleep at the monster jam.
I bet it was so loud you couldn't hear a thing.
And I bet not one of these guys even noticed.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Do you see any shadows????
But still- I don't see any shadows? But somehow, while trapped in our home under 78 inches of ice, that doesn't seem very encouraging.
We ARE leaving this house today. We just might not be able to get back up the driveway.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Our Thanksgiving Table- November 2031
Fast forward 20 years. Picture my three children and their respective spouses and children running amok on Thanksgiving Day.
Sam- Remember that one year we got all that ice?
Emily- Oh yeah- I remember that- it was awesome.
Allyson- They even called the night before to cancel school- it was so cool.
Emily- Remember how mom kept making those adult vitamin drinks that smelled like rubbing alcohol?
Sam- Yeah- the ones with the fancy umbrellas and the sugar rims? And she drank like 18 of them- she wanted to keep her immunity up I guess.
Allyson- It was so much fun, arguing over the tv and the remote control- just constant whining and bickering. We even kept hitting each other and threatening each other- 'member that? I'm not sure why but mom all at once got so dag gone angry. She got to screaming and her face turned beat red, I thought she was gonna blow her stack- remember that?
Sam- And Emily, you kept asking every 20 minutes if we could go somewhere, the museum, the store, the library- you finally drove mom to tears. Ha! That was so funny.
Allyson- Yep- she just kept crying and rocking and crying and rocking. And I took your nerf dart gun and you started screaming and we were running- but mom just kept rocking and crying. Good times, good times.
Emily- But then, after she filled the bathtub with water in case the power went out, she started chasing you guys around saying she was gonna drown you. Remember that. Man- who knew she could run that fast.
Sam- Yeah- until we ran out the front door and she hit the ice. She didn't stand a chance then.
Emily- Not much of a skater, that mom.
Allyson- She finally lost her breath and her balance and collapsed in the front yard- waving her fists and screaming profanities about what she was gonna do to us if she caught us- the neighbors even came out to see what all the fuss was.
Sam- She dug her phone out of her pocket and called the superintendent right there on the frozen lawn. She was telling him she would personally drive all of the children to school if they would just open them up. Remember that? What a hoot. Then she started yelling at him when he said no- something about tax money and laws and their duties. Ahhhh- she was such a cut up.
Emily- Till dad drug her back across the icy yard that is- and fixed her another vitamin drink. Glad she never did catch me though- that's for sure. I'm not sure if she would have made right on that promise to pop my head clean off my shoulders. Wonder what she meant by that anyway?
Sam- After that she just kept mumbling 'days on end, trapped in the house, fear of no electricity, screaming children'. She sure knew how to make a snow day fun.
Allyson- Sometime that evening she went to a neighbors house to borrow a cup of anything she kept saying and didn't come back home for days. Remember that? And Dad fixed us mountain dew and cherrios for dinner. Wonder where she went and what she was doing?
Emily- I propose a toast- To mom and her fabulous entertainment on all those snow days!
Sam and Allyson- Here Here
*tink* *tink* *tink*- the sound of each of the kids clinking their glass on the pretty silver buckles on their mothers fancy white coat.
Sam- Hey ally- grab a napkin and wipe moms mouth- she's drooling again.
Emily- Oh yeah- I remember that- it was awesome.
Allyson- They even called the night before to cancel school- it was so cool.
Sam- Yeah- the ones with the fancy umbrellas and the sugar rims? And she drank like 18 of them- she wanted to keep her immunity up I guess.
Allyson- It was so much fun, arguing over the tv and the remote control- just constant whining and bickering. We even kept hitting each other and threatening each other- 'member that? I'm not sure why but mom all at once got so dag gone angry. She got to screaming and her face turned beat red, I thought she was gonna blow her stack- remember that?
Allyson- Yep- she just kept crying and rocking and crying and rocking. And I took your nerf dart gun and you started screaming and we were running- but mom just kept rocking and crying. Good times, good times.
Sam- Yeah- until we ran out the front door and she hit the ice. She didn't stand a chance then.
Emily- Not much of a skater, that mom.
Sam- She dug her phone out of her pocket and called the superintendent right there on the frozen lawn. She was telling him she would personally drive all of the children to school if they would just open them up. Remember that? What a hoot. Then she started yelling at him when he said no- something about tax money and laws and their duties. Ahhhh- she was such a cut up.
Emily- Till dad drug her back across the icy yard that is- and fixed her another vitamin drink. Glad she never did catch me though- that's for sure. I'm not sure if she would have made right on that promise to pop my head clean off my shoulders. Wonder what she meant by that anyway?
Sam- After that she just kept mumbling 'days on end, trapped in the house, fear of no electricity, screaming children'. She sure knew how to make a snow day fun.
Allyson- Sometime that evening she went to a neighbors house to borrow a cup of anything she kept saying and didn't come back home for days. Remember that? And Dad fixed us mountain dew and cherrios for dinner. Wonder where she went and what she was doing?
Emily- I propose a toast- To mom and her fabulous entertainment on all those snow days!
*tink* *tink* *tink*- the sound of each of the kids clinking their glass on the pretty silver buckles on their mothers fancy white coat.
Sam- Hey ally- grab a napkin and wipe moms mouth- she's drooling again.
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