Can We Talk? A random, wild, uncontrolled conversation with myself. A needed release. Please ignore the grammar (and sorry for the long title).

As much as I like adventure and seeing, learning and experiencing new things, people, and places, moving is always so very lonely for me. I'm sure it is for most people, but this is about me. I know, Rick Warren, but humor me.
Nothing is familiar except those who move with you, and the dirty, trashed car in which you find your way around the new town. I find myself in that place now. LonelyVille - way out on the back acreage of LonelyVille; the part that hasn't been annexed by anyone; there's not even any modern utilities way out in these parts of LonelyVille. I've met hundreds of people, I am in the midst of them almost daily; and yet, I'm alone to whack down the weeds from the path I'm now traveling. I despise the whacking.
The kids have started school, establishing friends and new routines.
Hubs is off to a great start, no surprise - adventure suits him to a 't'. Nothing about moving bothers him - it revitalizes him even. If he was a superhero, he'd be "Adventure Man". Lame.
But me - total introvert. I've learned to be "on," at a moment's notice, but tbh, it's exhausting. Very.
And I find when the house is all quiet but for the ticking of the Cuckoo clock, the loneliness is deepened by the exhaustion of too many and too much "new".
At 43, I would be lying if I said I wasn't tired of "new;" and yet, this is the very life that I gave myself to so many years back when I stopped fighting and started accepting. It began before we ever began to think about moving from our home state. It actually began after Molly was born and I no longer could control my life. I was drowning, and I refused to ask for help. I was a stubborn jackass who thought I could be everything, and do everything, and know everything without knowing anything at all. So much ridiculous for one person, right?
And along came my Savior who saved me from my controlled, self-induced drowning, and said,"Just give it up; give it to Me. I'm here to help you. I won't harm you. Trust Me."
A Savior who saves us from so much more than just hell? Who woulda' thunk it, Legalism? I let Christ out of the ticket booth, and let him take control of my Ferris wheel-rollercoaster-funny-crazy life. Cause really, I'm just a clown with big trippy shoes, a honky nose, and a scary, smear-painted face that laughs and cries at the same time. He directs our circus daily. Ring Master and King of Kings. Pretty freaking awesome resume' He has.
I'm tired, but I feel better for writing all this down. I'm sure that it could very well land me in court-appointed Therapy if the wrong person reads it, or my kids use it against me one day. Hey, another adventure!
Seriously though, I'll pray for you. You pray for me. We'll get through this life with a little help from our friends, and the Ultimate Ring Master.

When Baby Leaves A Frog Takes Up Residence

Right now, this very second, there is a humongous frog sitting right past my uvula, bearing down on my esophagus and making it ache. My throat is trying to swell shut. There are salty tears sitting right at the very edge of my eyelids.

Today's the day - the day our oldest child, my first baby, is moving to college.

Well, there ya' go - now the tears are flowing, my nose is dripping, I'm sniffling and quietly sobbing.

Anna's moving away to USC today; and by moving away, I mean like 20 minutes down the road. Just downtown. I'm there all the time; nonetheless, it has hit me extremely, extremely hard. All week, I've been on the verge. Didn't know exactly why. I've subonsciously done a great job pushing her move to the back of my mind, amid all the activities of our other kids having started school on Monday; but, I've had a few moments...at weird, mundane times. It's been the mundane things that have thrown me down and beat the tears out of me...

• Multiplying snacks X 5 in my head at Walmart when it hit me, I only need to buy for 4
• Unloading the dishwasher and opening the cabinet to find all her coffee cups are gone
• A stupid lost sock of hers shows up out of nowhere
• All the books she's poured through year after year, now stacked neatly back on the family bookshelves
• The blanket she uses when we watch chick flicks, folded on the rack
• Empty hangers where her clothes hung
• First day of school pics - everyone's, not just mine
• She packed away in the attic, all her trophies, ribbons and alot of childhood memorabilia
• Scanning through our homeowner's insurance, making sure her personal property in her dorm room is covered

Gah. I can't even think right now to write my feelings and capture this moment.

About this time of morning (3am), approx. 18 years ago, sitting up in our bed counting the minutes between contractions for 2 hours, with my thoughts and fears to myself while Gerald slept unaware, I never would have dreamed that the labor pains bringing our first child into this world, were not nearly as painful as the labor was going to be when letting her go.

Roots and wings. There's no good way to stretch those roots when they're ready to fly. It's hell, people; and I suspect the pain takes a long time to wane.

That's all I can do for now. All I can say. All I can type.

DON'T LOOK TOO DEEPLY INTO MY THEOLOGY

Okay, so I'm no theologian and I don't want to be, at all, ever. This list is just a few things I started typing today and the list kept growing. It's just a 'show-n-tell', not a statement of belief. In a few years (or days), I'm sure it will change/morph and it's certainly not an exhaustive list; I could have went on and on and on.

I hope someone gets something positive, encouraging from this - a good memory, an 'aha' moment, an answer maybe?  I found myself remembering and reliving 'prayer events' in my life. Isn't that strange? Reliving prayer moments? Never heard of that before I just typed it. "Memories of Prayer," hmm. Do you have one?

Please, add to this list in the comments or take from it. It's just something I feel compelled to share; opinions/thoughts that I've learned/compiled over the last, few years when my praying started in earnest, on a more adult, 'I get it now' level. It's my (very) personal take on the power of prayer - power that can hurt, and certainly power that can heal.

I started typing the list after I had an exciting, exhilerating, encouraging brush with the power of prayer today - unexpected (I love unexpected prayer moments), all the way from the other side of the world (Ghana). It was an answer to prayer, though I had not asked a question. I guess it was more of an encouragement/"you can do it to"/"I know what you need - come on, I'm God" . Yep, that's what it was. I had a prayer/thought to myself earlier this week -  "Am I fully ready for this task that lay ahead?" I then took a deep breath, put on my big girl (swim) britches after deciding that even if I didn't dive in, I was surely getting pushed. You know that scenario, right? Ha.
So, God my Father saw fit to send me a personal note of encouragement; a little note in the lunchbox if you will. And all the way from Ghana. I'm sure there's a reason for that, as well.

Don't ever doubt that God uses you in tremendous ways, within your minute, daily tasks or the big tasks of being faithful in the way He leads you.

Enjoy and please, comment, I love feedback.

*Sidenote: Not all the points I've listed are as prayer should be, just as I've seen them be.



I fully believe in:

• Prayer
• The power of prayer
• The infinite power of the power
• The power we receive from prayer
• The power we release from prayer
• The power of prayer to the nth degree
• Traditional prayer
• Non-traditional prayer
• The harmonious work of the Holy Spirit as a messenger among the Believers and the Beloved, bringing us all within a circle of God's powerful, infinite Love, that strengthens with Faith and Trust; then circles around again (sounds sort of hippy-esque, ha.)

I fully believe that:

• The One to whom we pray, possesses every bit of the power of this world and beyond
• The power of prayer is mulitiplied innumerably by the masses and synthesized by the Holy Spirit
• Mass prayer can be just as ineffectual, as effectual
• Prayer is about being fully engaged, in the moment
• Prayer is personal
• Prayer should never be a forced act, or without heart and soul
• Prayer is more than just simple
• Prayer is a simple act
• Prayer is for simple-minded people
• Prayer is for intelligensia
• Everyone prays, admit or not
• Prayer is for everyone and anyone
• Prayer is not talking to God
• Prayer is conversing with God
• Prayer is a reward itself
• Prayer brings about things never imagined
• Prayer is good
• Prayer is ugly
• Prayer hurts
• Prayer heals
• Prayer feels good, refreshes, is quite tasty
• Prayer is proud
• Prayer is humble
• Prayer is quiet
• Prayer is loud
• Prayer is between you and God
• Prayer is not best in public
• Prayer can make you sick to your stomach
• Prayer is not an activity to be judged by mere mortals
• Prayer is not an opportunity to judge someone's spirituality
• Prayer should not be a formal task
• Prayer should not be a task
• Prayer should not be irreverent
• Prayer is not always serious
• Prayer should be comfortable
• Prayer is standing with hands raised
• Prayer is standing, head bowed, hands folded
• Prayer is groveling, gritting teeth, renting clothes, on your knees, "No, I refuse."
• Prayer is soaking in tears, eyes swollen, head fallen, releasing, trusting, "Yes."
• One should always remember the One to whom they're praying
• One should always remember the One to whom they're praying loves them
• One should always remember the One to whom they're praying should be respected
• One should always remember the One to whom they're praying should be feared
• Praying comes naturally
• Praying without ceasing is not a task
• Praying without ceasing is a continual conversation
• Praying without ceasing is opportunity
• Prayer is a responsibility to others
• Praying for Sally's lost dog, Tommy's bruised toe, and Johnny's turtle is an opportunity to talk with GOD. Hello.
• Being too haughty to pray for something you deem as "below you" is digging yourself a special place...somewhere; be careful and remember, you have no power except what is given to you by Christ. So step off

PUCKER UP

I don't dream much.

On certain nights I cherish because they are both rare and wonderful, before I fall into light, unconscious sleep, I first fall into memories.

Recently, I floated into childhood. I write this now and my eyes are brim with tears at the full, rich memories - those moments lost in childhood when all was joyful contentment and the world had yet to tinge the innocence.

Pucker. Go ahead. Do it. Pucker your lips and make that dry, popping sound puckered lips create.
Sounds of my childhood. From the lips of my Grandmother. 'Grandma Granny' we call her.

Walking quietly down a dirt road in late summer, Dad picks small, burnt orange, shriveled fruit from trees here and there. Sharing ensues and as each person tastes of this fruit that is mysterious to me, I listen and learn. Some taste, groan in displeasure, spit and everyone chuckles. I want in. Granny takes a taste of her piece of the juicy fruit, smiles, and offers it to me. I bite at the fruit, and the opportunity of the knowledge eluding me. Slightly sweet fruit, and a texture in which I don't particularly take delight.

I take a turn finding the right trees, spotting the fruit, and a lesson with a warning is given...pick only the ripe fruit; pick fruit that's not ready and you're sure to have a surprise awaiting you. Pucker.

I learn the word, 'Pucker'. Granny proceeds to define the term with action, puckering and making a dry, popping noise with her nicely lipsticked mouth, tinted an understated color. Somewhere between pink and nude. Soft granny lips that had kissed away tears and said goodbye countless times. Lips that I loved. Lips of coffee, and butterscotch candies, and sweet perfume.

I start tasting the fruit to find one sour so that I can experience 'pucker'. Not long...

My lips draw in, my brain creates a new path and I'm now in that inner circle. I came, I saw, I puckered. They chuckle.

Traveling down the road. Granny, Great Granny, Grandpa, Daddy, Sister, Brother, Mom and Me.
And I'm much the wiser for it.

Why that memory, on that night, God only knows, but the warmth has stuck with me all week.

  “I don't want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

Bringing Home Baby

I remember it like it was yesterday...bringing home our firstborn and walking through the door of our home, the place of comfort and familiarity.
But everything felt different. Everything looked different. The atmosphere was odd and the world was a foreign place. I wanted my Mommy. I needed direction, instructions, reassurance. It was a lonely island of you-and him-and her...Anna Marie.

I was a parent and nothing, ever, would be the same.

Seventeen years later, here I am once again, standing in the doorway with my firstborn, not knowing what to do or what the hell I've gotten myself into.
This time though, I'm standing on the inside of the threshold, about to watch my firstborn walk out of our life, and into her own. I need reassurance. The atmosphere is odd and everything feels different.

Senior year is about to start and I'm already drowning in my own tears, surprised by how hard it's hit me. I've started making a mental checklist, making sure we've taught her absolutely everything she needs to know to survive out there. Then I laugh at the absurdity for a split second until the worry hits that spot in my stomach again, and I'm gasping for air. Warm tears cannot be dammed behind the eyelashes. This is not like me, I think. 'What is wrong with you?!?' An imaginary wind chills any confidence I have had in my parenting skills. All seems wrong and lost on this island. This freaking mother-island.

I replay in my head a memory that pops up from way back in my sub-conscious, of the day Gerald left for college...
Gerald's Mom standing at the kitchen sink, shoulders slumped and shaking, trying to stifle the sobs and peel potatoes for dinner. I watched her from behind not knowing what to do or say (I was a slight mess myself). Now I know what she knew. I feel what she felt. I can only imagine my Mom doing the same when I left a year later.

Is this part of the curse? That the labor pains never really end? You feel a longing in your womb, your breast, your every fiber for that little bundle of warmth that scared the living crap out of you; that pulled you out of narcissism and into sacrifice; that made you realize just how short life is; that makes you brave and a complete mess at the same time; that makes you long for that child even when they're right next to you still.

In my mind's eye, I see the famous Sistine Chapel painting of Adam reaching out to touch just the tip of God's finger. I focus on the hands, everything else a blur. I'm reaching for one small touch so I can hang on one more minute. I'm rooting for myself, 'Reeeach! you can do it!' And yet, I know I cannot, because she has wings, the wings I've groomed everyday for the past seventeen years. 

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Mary, the Holy Mother. I'm sure she would scoff at that title. I have all kinds of questions for her when I get to heaven. We're gonna sit down at Starbucks Heaven and talk about our children, specifically sons. Wow, I so wish she would have written a book. She could have wowed us all with the tale of the perfect child, huh? Imagine that.

When Jesus told His parents he was leaving town - getting the heck out of Dodge - to answer His Call - hang with a bunch of traveling fisherman, do some tent revivals, heal some lepers and have some free, heavy-duty therapy sessions with prostitutes and the like - what do you think dinner was like that evening?

Parents: "Jesus, please, you've been studying in the Temple for
years; you've almost got your GED, you've got it made, kid. Why not
stay? The whole family lives here. Everybody in town knows you; you've got connections. You've been a little quirky your whole life and we've given you your space but now it's getting old. Don't be ridiculous. You're gonna be a priest."

Jesus: "But, Dad, this is my Call in life. It's my passion. It's what I
was born to do. I'm gonna change the world, give people a reason to live, a purpose."

Parents: "That's great, Jesus. It's a noble thing, really, but
you need to finish your education first; you need something to fall back
on. What if this whole passion-thing of yours doesn't work out, then
what? You need a steady job, insurance, retirement, a family."

Mary: "We just want YOU to be happy, Jesus. Find you a nice
girl, get betrothed, buy a nice camel, maybe a coat with many
colors."

Joseph: "We won't allow it. No. That's it, you're not
going. End of discussion."

Jesus: "Just try and stop me."

I don't know. Who knows how that family discussion went down. "Mary, did you know?" That's the question.

Do YOU know? Do you know your child's Call? How will the discussion go when it's your child's time to answer their Call?

For years, from about Kindergarten until Freshman year, Anna always claimed that her future was to be a missionary. I don't know where that came from but I always knew God was going to change her mind; she just didn't seem the missionary type, I thought. No, God, there's something more, isn't there?

Gerald and I never discussed with her much about her future. We never pushed her into this or that; never talked about a certain college, or college at all for that matter. Some people aren't called to college. We tried to leave the door wide open. I guess we just always had an understanding that she would know, she would figure it out, it was her life/her future to sort through. Whatever it was, He would make it known. Our job was to make sure that she new to listen and had ears open to hear the Call. We would get out of her way when she needed; help her when she asked. We put her through a Student Leadership program that would guide her and give her wisdom to make wise choices about her future. Teach her what we didn't know, and some of which she wouldn't want to hear from her parents. We offered her a big headstart and it took.

For a couple of years now, Anna has been bent on becoming a Lawyer. At first I was excited for her but lately, I haven't said much about it to encourage her, crossing my fingers she'd get her wits about her and then figure out her REAL Calling. I don't know what my hesitation was. Lawyer just didn't ring in my ear. I just knew she was going to change her mind. I had this butterfly in the pit of my stomach.

So I waited. Here we are now, Junior year, starting to get into all the college planning. Lord, what ARE you waiting for? What are you doing? Talk to her, PLEASE. She's confused.

Today, it hit me - Amy, what are YOU doing?

How many times have I sat and listened to a student tell me their heartache about having to go to the college mom and dad picked out b/c mom and dad would pay for nothing but. How may times have I heard parents talk and talk and talk, nag and nag and nag about having a "fallback", until finally the child gives up on their Passion, to do the will of their parents instead? I've watched passion-called missionaries become parent-called dentists instead; i've watched passion-called teachers become parent-called engineers instead. I've even watched a woman stubbornly allow her family's life to continue to deteriorate for the sake of financial comfort and a good reputation, by not allowing her spouse out of a career that was killing him and their marriage; instead of seeing their marriage possibly reborn within the joy, strength and confidence of a man, doing what he was created to do.

And the thing is, I always swore I'd never be that parent. Well, as it is, I can't judge, lest I be judged.

I have refused to step off the ladder so that she can climb the top on her own. It's not that I don't like the roof she's going to step out on, rather I'd like to see her take a different ladder, you know one that I have deemed, "safer," even though I myself have been injured on this ladder many times. Explanation forthcoming.

Today, I will go talk with my daughter. I've never verbally rejoiced with her, in her Calling; I've always held back, thinking it would change. I've not interested myself with the college she wants to attend because, frankly, it scares me a little that she wants to attend a college in D.C. that's not a private, Christian college. Truthfully, I guess I thought she would always want to stay in a Christian (i.e. safer) environment even though we've always reared our kids otherwise; and it's embarrassing to admit because I know better. Christian is certainly NOT a synonym for safe; it's anything but. We've purposely educated our children in a way so that they can go anywhere. They have to know what they believe, why they believe it and be strong enough to stand up for their beliefs, in all areas of life. And here I stand, purposely holding back from my daughter the joy deserved, and during what should be a celebratory event in her life, simply because I refuse to be an active participant in my own discomfort. What a hypocrite.

I don't know what I thought Anna would do in life. I know that I should have been able to see it. She's always been very stubborn and eerily but logically, persuasive. Too smart for her own good sometimes.

I know she's instinctively felt my qualms about her decision and I think our relationship has silently suffered for that. I cannot afford that right now. Only so many marbles left in that jar until she's gone.

I've never heard what my daughter has heard, directly from her God, about the Call on her life. What I have heard is my daughter, HER voice, trusting in her God. Yep, she has a voice, we reared her that way - if only we'd known =). Only she can hear what the Lord is saying to her about her life. I can only hear what the Lord is saying to me about mine - He's been fairly loud and clear this week. Sure, I can help, dole out some advice but she has the power of the decision. For the power I have, I have to trust in the Lord and trust that I have helped rear my child to hear the voice of God, loud and clear. And then I pray, constantly reciting my children's names in His ear. It's a circle that's unbroken.

So now, I must let.....go. Oh, it's so much harder than I thought it would be. This labor pain is going to last awhile, I'm afraid.

Where To Begin...

Haha. Trying to decide where to begin blogging after having been off Blogger for over a year now, my mind reached waaay back and pulled out the line from a famous children's song, "Finnegan, begin again..." and then I hear from my earphones, "you're so 2000 and late..." Haha, that's so me, I agree.


Well, we're off and moving once more. Columbia, South Carolina, here we come, ready or not. Having been there previously for just a few days to look for housing and get acquainted, and now sitting back here all comfy at my desk, in our home we've lived in for four years; in a city where you can drive to anything in 15 minutes; in a neighborhood that has such a low crime rate, it's unusual for us to LOCK our doors, I can't say that I'm overly thrilled at moving back into a big city.


Columbia is about the size of Kansas City Moe, where I spent the first 24 years of my life before we entered the life of school administration and started moving further, and further, south (yes, we did live in Florida first and while geographically it is further south, it's certainly not "Suthun").


South Carolina is definitely Southern - the accents give creedence to that label. Hoping to quickly learn the eccentricities of the SC accent before making a fool of myself as I did in AL the first couple of weeks we were there, confounded by a hairstylist saying, "length" when I thought he was saying, "lint". You could imagine.

YO! Where My Honey Bees At?

Funny story...

(btw, right now I SHOULD BE doing laundry)

About a month ago, I was doing some shopping for a trip and being that I have a thing for pj's, I was in the pj aisle. Another lady and I were looking at the same pair of pj's which just happened to have honey bees and all-things-honey-bee on them. They were cute, girl!

So, we get to talking because we were both slightly uncomfortable at the fact that another adult knew we were interested in these bright, predominately yellow and black pj's for ADULTS. We each explained to each other why we appreciated this particular theme of pajamas so.

My explanation we won't get into but hers was valid -her hubby was a bee-keeper. One thing led to another in this interesting conversation, in the middle of the day, at Target. I proceeded to ask her if her hubby happened to sell bee pollen (our family eats bee pollen when allergies start to bother us - it works even though it seems weird). None of the health food stores in the area were able to tell us why they couldn't find any to buy this year (you have to buy new each year b/c each year, apparently, your allergies are slightly different; you also have to buy LOCAL bee pollen since your allergies are local).

So, she told me that no, her hubby did not sell bee pollen, at least THIS YEAR. She continued to inform me that all the bee farmers in the area were losing their honey bees. She said it's an epidemic and nobody can figure out why they are dying off and that the honey bee industry is in trouble. My first thought was not, "poor honey bees; what can I do?" I admit it was, "Shoot, I'd better go stockup on honey before the price goes sky-high!"

So, summer got busy, I forgot to go buy honey until today when, somehow, I got to this link: http://www.helpthehoneybees.com/ (click on the "featured video")

Who knew that honey bees could dance, let alone krunk

A N D do the disco (seriously, they DO dance, a 'bee' dance, when they find nectar).

So, this is my contribution to the plight of the honey bee. PLANT, PLANT, PLANT some wildflower gardens along your fencelines, people! and pass this info along. Oh yeah, and go rent The Bee Movie, it'll tell you much you didn't know about bees.

Did I buy the pj's? Nobody cares about my choice in pj's! Go help the honeybees. =)

I'm Alive

I'm here. I'm busy.

Thanks for caring.

I see that nobody's even asked about me in weeks.

Fine.

Hello?

So, what have you been up to this summer?

Here's a sampling of our summer so far but much, much more to come.

Hope you enjoy; you just never know with family videos.

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Meet Sally Pecan (or Sally Beanpod or Sally Chipmunk - whatever her menu choice is at the time), she was Number Two's birthday present way back in February and a GREAT Humane Society find. She's definitely a lady, as evidenced in her debut video. She likes to spend her days reclining by the pool, chasing chipmunks and digging gargantuan holes and directing traffic..

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This next one is for my sister who tried to threaten me into not posting it on my Blog. There is a small shot of her derriere, which I just noticed, *oops*, how did that HAPPEN? Well, now I have to post it. That's Sibling Rivalry 101, right? Ignoring that sacred code could send the Earth catapulting through the Milky Way toward the Black Hole.

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Next, a spring video that teaches a lesson about life: It's not always about what you see, sometimes, it's about what you hear. Or, you should always watch what you're saying because you never know who is listening in.

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Funny Coincidence

So, there's this funny thing the other day...

I started working end of last year for a merchandising company. Basically, this is how it works:

1. A company...let's say Hunter-Douglas...needs to change out the pricing on their window blinds at Home Depot.

2. They contract their merchandising jobs with the company I work for, who calls me and asks if I want the job - I have 30 days to complete it. It takes about an hour and I make my normal wage.

3. I accept or decline depending on my schedule.

4. If I accept, I go online, print off the job instructions and the company sends me all the new POP materials through FedEx or UPS.

5. On the day I decide to do said job, I go switch everything out - it takes close to an hour.

6. I then email a report that consists of about five questions, back to the company I work for.

7. They send me a check about two weeks later.

Easy-peasy.

Here's the funny part - the company I work for is called Quest Merchandising. A few nights back, G and I were up late watching TV and one of those commercials come on for lonely guys that want a friend to "talk to". I've seen the commercials a hundred times but all of a sudden it struck me - the name of the company is called Quest Personals; OMgosh, I tell G - that's so funny. Wonder if someone we know thinks that, that's the Quest I work for...I've told people that the company I work for just calls, explains the parameters of the job, I then decide if I want to work or not and the job usually takes less than an hour. Funny, huh?

A subsidiary of the company I work for, you ask? I did! Who knows.

Hey-Ay

Wow. It's been a while.

I'm still here. Too busy to be dead - definitely too busy.

I stopped for just a minute today to catch up on emails and a shameless plug for two of my fav artists right now. I like all genres of music because I believe everyone has something significant to say and add to my life; otherwise, why would God have them cross my path? Who knows what you miss out on in life if you get offended by an action or opinion or belief and then shut people out? Artists are each unique and I wish I could be one. Even just for a day. I'd LOVE to travel on the road with a favorite musician.

So, these artists just happen to be Christian artists - the kind of Christian artist I would be if I could sing even a note like these people.

If only there would have been musicians out there like these when I was in high school, my high school life would have been totally different...I like to think that, at least. Maybe it would have been free and fun and fostered an authentic relationship with my Savior. So much time was wasted before setting out to find that.

Anyway... So now, I shamelessly live and promote the music I love. I embarrrass #1, because she's 14 and because I would be embarrassed if I could see myself, I'm sure. God chose ME to give life to so I'll embrace it and love it and live it alive...even when it hurts and life hurts alot. I'll pass life on to those around me until the day mine ends and hopefully, I can pass it on more alive than it was passed to me.

God didn't give us but one gift. Everyone always gets stuck on that one BIG ONE - you know the one, the ticket out of hell. Life, love and free will is a gift; children are a gift; sushine a gift; mosh pits in chapel - yes! a gift (and I love to go to chapel and see the kids enjoy it) creme' brulee is definitely a gift and being able to pass on to the next generation a vibrant, authentic love of the Father is a gift too often squandered.

I love to dance and to be free and to be me. I've just uncovered the joy of free will and living a life-alive in the last several years. So, not being one to live in the past, I live now without concern as to what anyone might think and it's VERY empowering. When you live free in Christ, people get confused and they fear and sometimes you can open their eyes and change their life. Weird, huh, because that too, is a gift - being His hands. With that said, I'll be getting a stud in my nose soon. Just a little F.Y.I.

This blog is often random but so is life...and life is not waiting on me so I must go. Now,
shameless plug #1 and shameless plug #2.

New Year, New Monsters

Just when you think you have your kids figured out, they turn into full-raging hormone zombies. So you learn to deal. No biggie.

Then one day, you're shopping at Walmart and you see your twelve-year-old, male zombie turn his face and there grows a long, stray hair. You panic - How did I not see that before now? What kind of MOTHER am I? What's happening? Where did IT come from?!? Gross! OMGosh. Where am I? What's my name? What do I do - buy a razor right now or do I wait? Does one, long hair constitute that expense? Do I tell him? Does he already know? Eww. Who is this creature? I wanted to scream, "SOMEONE PLEASE PINCH ME; I'M HAVING A TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE!!" I had a fleeting thought of jumping the Pharmacy counter, shoving the pharmacist, security guard and whoever else got in my way, to the ground and then downing a bottle of Prozac like a raving lunatic.

I was spinning in that Twilight Zone vortex, in the middle of Walmart, having all of those thoughts. Can you imagine? But then...

I had that Aha! moment (you know what I'm talking about) - I'll just pluck it out with my tweezers while he's sleeping and he'll be none the worse for not knowing, right? So, you tell your husband the plan and instead of conspiring with you like you know he should, he tells you you're crazy and proceeds with a puffed-up chest and pride-filled, father-face to reminisce about the day he started shaving. You start reminiscing about smothering him with the pillow while he's sleeping (before you pluck the stray hair off your son's face, of course, because he might wake up and you don't want any witnesses.)

You go buy some Calgon.

It doesn't take you away.

At least you can somewhat understand your fourteen-year-old female zombie...

Three days a week.

So, you're driving home with said female zombie last night after her ballgame. They won and yet she looks really down so you start simple...

So, you won!....we played terrible

Yeah, I noticed your head was somewhere else - you okay?...head nods

Have a headache?...head shakes

Hungry?...more shaking

Tired?...still more shaking

Wanna' talk about it?

*sniffling, eyes blinking holding back tears*

Everything okay with you and Billybob*?

No. We broke up. *sniffling, quiet sobbing*

Of course now I start sniffling and blinking back tears, driving with blurred vision.

We talk little the rest of the way home and I respect her space. In time, I suppose... or they could get back together tomorrow. We get home and she showered, ate, read a book, did homework, watched TV; all the normal things but now with a somber look on her face. It's killing me. I look at her and like those commercials, see her three years old with strawberry-blonde pigtails and freckles, sad about a stuffed toy that the dog tore up. Ah.

Of course, I'm still wanting the details; to know what happened.

So, G comes home, we converse quietly in the kitchen and he goes in and tucks her into bed (which she normally doesn't request anymore) and they talk! Booger!

He decides that pulling her out of a class today and going for ice cream might help the sting fade faster. He always gets all the fun *sticking out tongue*. Maybe I should teach our male zombie how to shave. Ha!

I live with a house full of monsters...and I love it.

So, what's up with you? Dish.

*name changed to protect the little punk. :0)

GO SEE THIS ONE!

And take a tissue.

Wishing You A "Doghouse-Free" Christmas

This was forwarded to me today and it made me laugh.

http://link.brightcove.com/services/link/bcpid1370868150/bctid3130509001

Blindfolds and Blankets

What is it with my kids recently?

First #4 decides it would be a good idea to walk through his room, toys scattered everywhere, with a blanket covering his head. This is why some people think we evolved from monkeys.

*Boom!* Falls right on the corner of his wooden bed, with the impact to his eye area. His hands were caught under the blanket so his eye took the brunt.

No stitches but a big black eye for Halloween and a $30 visit to the pediatrician to check out his orbital plate. Results inconclusive but, Eureka! $1675 worth of xrays later, he's declared normal as can be...for a kid that likes walking blind. Thank goodness for Blue Cross and Blue Shield.

Three weeks later.....

#3, #4, and #5 decide to play a game. #1 who is babysitting doesn't think twice about blindfolding them all for the game; after all, it'll keep them quiet, right? I would have acquiesced, as well.

They all go tromping around the family room, crowded with family room stuff, building supply stuff and master bedroom stuff (we're remodeling). #3 *thinks*, "hmmm...I MUST be right by the sofa so I'm going to fall down and make everyone laugh."

Problem was she was actually right above my cedar hope chest.

*Boom!*

We're in the thrift store checkout line, enjoying our Saturday when we get the call. Everyone's calm so hubby says to put a wet washcloth on it and put pressure on it until we get home.

Five minutes later we walk in the door to a trail of blood leading to the bathroom and Molly holding back sobs. I take one look and there's no doubt she's getting stitches...again. This is the fifth or sixth time for her; we've lost count. I drive her to the Women & Children's Center at the hospital, walk into the pediatric ER and we're the only ones there - unbelievable.

$50, two hours and ELEVEN stitches later, we're on our way home for Motrin and some rest.

The bruising and swelling actually got worse until today. Thursday the stitches will come out at the pediatrician's office. That'll be $30 more. You'd think for $50, the ER could take the stitches out, as well.

There's been absolutely no horsing around for several days at our house now, per Mom's orders. It's been absolutely freezing outside so something's gonna' have to give in the next few days; hopefully, it's the weather.

Wolfs

Zac: "Hey, Mom, what's that word?"

Me: "What word?"

Zac: "You know, wolfs."

Me: "Oh, yeah, it's wolves...vvvzzz"

Zac: "wolfffs...vvvzzz"

Me: "If you have one goose, you say 'goose'; what if you have more than one, what's the word?"

Zac: "I don't know."

Me: "Geese."

Zac: *laughs*

Me: If you have one deer, you say 'deer'; what if you have more than one, what's the word?"

Zac: "TWO deer!"

Me and Zac: *laugh, laugh, laugh*

Practical Economics

Number 3 has been working on a loose tooth for about a month. Today, it finally popped out. The air is thick with anticipation of the tooth fairy's arrival this evening.

The tooth was paraded around the house on a tiny piece of tissue, first to all the siblings who were less than ecstatic and then to Dad and Mom. Obviously, we were to alert the fairy.

Molly: "Dad! Look! My tooth fell out."

Dad: "Cool...what's that, a cavity?"

Molly: "No, it's a filling, Dad!"

Me: "You know that cuts the value in half, right?"

Molly: "No, it's silver, that means I get more."

Gerald and I: *LOL* *LOL* *LOL*

Me: " I already paid for that silver once. You should have picked a better time to lose your tooth; it's not a seller's market right now, kiddo." *wink*

TAGGED

So, I've been TAGGED by Tammi, who used to be my friend. I thought we were on the same team, Tams?!? How could you tag a teammate?

Being tagged means that I'm required to fulfill some sort of requirement; in this case, the requirement is listing seven random things about me. To me, this means they're things that are probably oddities, otherwise, why would I not have shared them by now? It's taken me awhile to think of seven weird things about myself that I would like to share in Bloggerland but, alas, here goes:

1. I hang clothes back on the hangers at stores.

But the kicker is I hang ONLY the items that are hanging off halfway. Items that have already found their way onto the floor, I rarely save. It's an OCD, I guess - it bothers me when an item is hanging there half-cocked. I sometimes wonder if the cashiers notice and if I'm the only one with this quirk. Maybe they'll offer me ajob.

2. Appliance lights bother me.

When my dishwasher has completed its cycle, a little green light comes on; same thing with my washer/dryer and coffee maker. It doesn't matter how hectic my day is or how many schedules with which my brain is overwhelmed, if the little green signal is on when I walk through the kitchen or laundry hall, it catches my eye. I then MUST immediately stop my task at hand, do whatever I have to do to make the little lights go out and then I proceed with my tasks. I guess I feel like my appliances can then truly rest. Must have something to do with watching The Brave Little Toaster too much. My appliances have brains and they care that I notice that their jobs are completed so they can then go out and save Johnny from the world.

3. I'm a home laundry detergent chemist.

My hubby and I prefer different laundry soaps. He likes Tide. He thinks it's the only detergent out there that truly cleans clothes because that's what his mommy used (that's my Freudian theory). I buy whatever is my mood on the days we run out of laundry soap and I think it bothers Gerald that his clothes rarely smell the same way twice and that's funny to me (that's my passive-aggressive nature). Lately, no detergent out there fits my personality completely so I've taken to buying different kinds of detergents that I "sort of" identify with, taking them home and mixing them together. I load the clothes, don my white scrubs, snap my protectice eye equipment into place and put in a beaker of this and a beaker of that and then start the cycle. One day, I'm expecting a chemical reaction to produce a genie that will do all my housework so I can just sit and eat those bon-bon things I keep hearing about.

4. I applied to the FBI and was accepted.

Unfortunately, the first "W" put a hiring freeze into place so I didn't get a call to come work for them until I'd already been married for awhile and then moved to Florida. (Did I mention that it was a job with the secretarial pool?) Yeah but I still had to take several hard tests, pee in a cup while an agent was in the bathroom monitoring me, I was fingerprinted and both my and Gerald's entire family (we were engaged) was thoroughly investigated. Does it say something about me that I found it more eery to be fingerprinted than to have a female agent standing guard just inches from the specimen cup? I felt guilty and I'd never even had a ticket.

5. My favorite form of Art is nudes.

With a background in stifling legalism where especially the female body is presented as evil, the realization that my body is a work of art, with all of its curves and allure created on purpose *gasp* by God, opened my eyes to the beauty of those photographs and sculptures and, ultimately, the beauty of all of creation. I'm biased toward female nudes - we just have better lines.

6. I want to be a Forensic Scientist.

My husband has been on me for awhile to go back to school and finish my degree. I had two years of college and then took a job, planning on taking night classes but I never went back. Then came love, then came marriage... I studied to be a secretary b/c I was really good at right-brained stuff - organizing, typing, shorthand, grammar. In legalism, where they don't push girls to be anything but minister's wives or teachers, not one teacher tried to broaden my horizon. Now that I've lived, if I go back to school, I'd like to take some classes in forensic science and genetic chemistry. I stink BIG-TIME in math, especially formulas, so being realistic, I'd never go for a degree in those fields but I'd love to dabble.

7. I want to live:

1. in New York City for a year
2. in a cottage in the middle of a lavendar field in Ireland for a year
3. on the beach...forever

I've fulfilled my obligation - Yea! I tag Lindsey, my cousin and Sarah, my friend.

Do You Know What Your Kids Are Doing?

Last night Gerald and I were clear across town (which here, means only 20 minutes), around 8:30ish when I called to give Anna instructions for showers and bedtime.

As as afterthought before disconnecting, I said in my best Mom voice:

"You older three kids can turn the TV on after the younger three have gone to bed; just be careful what you watch."

Anna: "Oh, that's okay, Mom, we're playing poker."

Ha. Oh, well. :0)

Mmm...Eggs

Who has time for blogging when you're trying to put Humpty together again?

Ha. Ha.

You should have seen him trying to get into the car to go to Kindergarten and proudly recite his nursery rhyme. I finally helped a little fella' out and gave his tush a little shove. I thought I might *pop* his innertube love handles. His booster seat? Forget about it - didn't happen.

He was one of two humptys but in my humble opinion - my baby was cutest.