Too Many Chiefs

Boy, oh boy, talk about too many chiefs in the house.

We're on vacation with my husband's brother, sister, parents and all the kids. And I have learned an important rule. Let me make that "re-learned" an important rule. I had forgotten it, because I had not run into this situation in a while.

The chief that throws the biggest hissy fit usually gets their way. Let me also say that the hissy fit can be thrown by any gender.

Now, let me admit. I like being the chief myself. I usually have a plan, and I tend to think my plan is a Great Plan! However, I do try to take in to consideration everyone else's needs.

Apparently, not to the satisfaction of the other chiefs in the house.

Good Gracious!!! Families!!!

Gotta love 'em, stuck with them forever.

Can't we all play nice?

I will also admit I can throw my own hissy fit when the right situation arrives. Or I can pout.

I'm praying for lots of good weather, that the children continue to be angels, the adults get their panties out of a wad, and that my vacation improves every minute I'm here.

I think I'm going to need some help with those prayers. Please pray along, i could use the help.

Puppy Love

Have you held a puppy lately?

Have you ever had a brand-new, just born, eyes still closed puppy?

We had more litters of puppies than I can remember when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I didn't think my kids would ever get to experience the joy and wonder of a brand-new puppy. Thank God for Dad and Cindy and the ever growing menagerie of animals at the farm.

My dad has been past "the dealing with puppies stage" for quite a while now. However, they just lost one of their dogs and had started looking for a friend for Ziggy, their blonde lab. They found a lab looking mix that had given birth to only one puppy. Yeah! A puppy at the farm. She's only 5 days old. I'd share pictures, but let's be honest, I don't know how to work that kind of technology at the farm.

The kids and I have had the chance to love on the fattest, butterball looking puppy there has ever been. We now know what happens when a puppy doesn't have a litter to fight for food. That puppy looks like a brown fur ball ready to pop. We just watched Miss Butterball try to walk. I'm still giggling.

It's kind of hard to walk when you're little legs barely touch the ground because your fat puppy belly pushes them up in the air. Picture a very cute, brown bear looking puppy swinging her legs through the air.

Let's not ignore the adorable little grunting noises puppies make. I think that's what I wanted the kids to know most about puppies. They make a noise you never forget while they push their nose against you looking for food. Of course, the kids were all excited and talking loudly, stepping on each other trying to get closer to the puppy, and I was raising my voice telling them to be quiet and listen to the cute puppy grunts.

Oh, peaceful moments with a puppy. They did finally quiet down so they could hear her. We'll be back to visit in a week to see if her eyes are open. Maybe by then her legs will touch the ground, and she'll be able to waddle instead of swimming in the air.

You know, if I didn't think my husband would just roll over and die, that puppy might have a chance of coming to our house...

Winner of Dog Days of Summer Bloggy Giveaway!

Drum roll please.

And the winner is...(I am sooo original).

Madame Rubies

Congratulations!

This is what Madame Rubies had to say about her best Mommy Moment:
"When I pick my kids up from Mom's Day Out, and they come running, excitedly, to hug me and kiss me and grin from ear to ear."

I have to agree that those full body hugs are the best.

Our mommy hearts are all pretty much the same. We love to see our love for our children reflected in their actions whether that through their hugs, kisses, sharing with others, reading, reading to siblings, or sharing God's word and love. We've all been given the best gift of being mothers.

I hope Madame Rubies enjoys the CD and the surprise book I'm throwing in the package.

Thanks for all your great comments.

How to Work Household Appliances

If you had to earn a license to work household appliances, I just might lose mine.

You see, I noticed my iron smelled a little funny. Kinda sweet, yet sour funny. I definitely had to take off the shirt I just ironed. And then I realized.

I.am.so.stupid.

The words lazy and irresponsible also come to mind.

My husband always keeps a cup of water on his nightstand, which is beside where I set up the ironing board. Well, in the last month, he's switched to pink lemonade.

Yeah, you see where this is going.

I conveniently used the cup next to ironing board to fill up my iron rather than walking the 7 huge, exhausting, iron-blessing-me steps to fill it up with water from the tap.

Stupid.Stupid.Stupid.

I'm pretty sure the new perfume wafting out of my iron's steam vents is O'pink lemonadette. Of course, I have no intention of throwing out the iron yet. I have steamed several containers of actual water through it in hopes of cleaning it out. I'm pretty sure my next step will be to run vinegar through it, but that just brings back memories of the microwave horror.

There are several other household offenses I've committed this year. I 'm certainly not going to share them today. Thank God for Heloise's Helpful Hints.

Now, if only I could channel her household aptitude, I wouldn't have to Google her so often.

More Harry Potter Fun

You scored as Albus Dumbledore, Strong and powerful you admirably defend your world and your charges against those who would seek to harm them. However sometimes you can fail to do what you must because you care too much to cause suffering. Albus Dumbledore 95% Remus Lupin 85% Hermione Granger 75% Harry Potter 75% Sirius Black 60% Draco Malfoy 60% Ginny Weasley 40% Ron Weasley 40% Severus Snape 25% Lord Voldemort 0% Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com

I saw this quiz on my friend Kelly's blog and thought I'd play along. She's a Hermione Granger. I think she may love the series almost as much as I do. However, I admit to encouraging my son to do other things so I could spend a few hours with the book before he finished. My husband definitely took up for my son and ordered me to give the book back. Thank goodness this has been the summer that my son started sleeping late. My husband woke me at 5:45 Monday so I could finish the book before my son awoke. Let me know what your Harry Potter Alter Ego is.

Oh, I Know All About Your Religion

First, thank God for other blogs, and that I read as many as my time during the day allows. Too many actually, but I digress.

I was reading A Church for Starving Artists this morning, and I just had to share what Jan Edmiston wrote today. Please click here and read it, you'll probably spit your coffee at your computer screen, unless...you believed the same misinformation. And then you can be enlightened.

I had heard that the Methodists and Episcopalians were dealing a lot more with that particular subject these days. The point is unfortunately people use mis-information to distinguish religions. It seems as if they chose the things they're afraid of to condemn another's religion.

It still and always will amaze me the rumors and even horror stories people will tell about religions other than their own. I grew up Catholic, with a bigger dose of Quakerism. I won't say Roman Catholic, because we just weren't that pious. My mom is 3rd generation American Irish and went to Mass every day at a Catholic school with the nuns that used her messy handwriting as a reason to rap her knuckles. My dad is Quaker, and no that is not the same as Amish or Shaker. So it was quite a mix at our house. I never bought into a lot of the Catholic rules, and luckily I completely missed the guilt.

Yes, I probably should have some religious scars, but I proudly do not. I'm just very used to the, "What is that?!!" questions. And being looked at like I was either going to cross myself and rap my own knuckles or go get a big black hat and ride a horse and buggy into town. Oops, I digress again.

Growing up Catholic in a predominately rural southern area made me stick out if I mentioned it. The biggest mis-information I dealt with most was that, "Catholics worship Mary." People would say that with authority and contempt in their voices. I couldn't figure out where they learned such things. It has taken me until my 30's to realize that the prayer, "Hail, Mary" is probably responsible for the connotation. Craziness!

Before we moved to Northern Virginia we lived in a small town where our children went to a Catholic School. It was definitely not for the Catholicism, yet it's what makes that school so special. I cannot say enough good things about the love for God that continues to be taught at that precious school. And Mrs. Swain will be loved by me and my boys forever as a wonderful example of Christianity. She taught them religion for years, and we miss her terribly. I respect the Catholic religion a lot more due to the wonderful souls at our old school. I was proud to teach there, and will always treasure how God used our time there to draw us closer to Him.

The instance that Jan Edmison wrote about could point the finger at almost any religion. Our family is Presbyterian. I enjoy it. It works for our family. I feel blessed to worship with others who love the Lord and inspire me to learn more about Him. I hope that being exposed to a couple of religions has made me more tolerant and open-minded. I know one thing. It makes me humble in the presence of God's greatness.

Religion can inspire. It can save people from an empty existence. It can bring peace...

Whoops! That's God that gets the credit for all those things. Religion should help us worship God and draw closer to him. The whole point is our relationship with God. And to be honest, I think you need to worship in a way that brings you that relationship. I should hope different religions speak to our differences to remind us of our oneness with God. But sometimes religions just get in our way. Those are times that I'm so thankful that God will truly work it all out in the end.

Summertime Fun

Remember the joys of summer when you were a kid.


Sleeping until your mom dragged you out of bed.
Watching TV until...well, let's just say all day if possible.
Fighting with swords in the back yard and screaming so all the neighbors actually thought someone was being executed.
The on-going Monopoly game.
Eating breakfast at 11:45.
Pushing your brother and sister out of your favorite chair until someone slammed against the wall.
Going barefoot and loving it until you found that splinter on the deck.
Taking turns flipping each other in the hammock, until someone flipped too hard.
Arguing with your brother and sisters about the best seat, TV show, what to eat for any meal, popsicle...
Throwing things at your brother and sister just for the fun of it, until...
Trying to sneak your 3rd popsicle of the day past your mom.
Putting off doing any chores around the house until your mother screamed true bloody murder.
Being kicked out of the house, until your mother's headache went away, which will probably be the first day of school.


Thankfully we've only had two of these types of joyful days this summer, or I'd have to sign myself up for summer school.

Cooking with Kids

Last week was a zoo around here. Or a clearing house for all inspectors. Your choice.

Between the Verizon guy, who was very nice and going through a recent separation heading for divorce,
the appraiser who has 3 boys of his own and just loved our hardwoods,
the yearly termite inspector, who thankfully found no termites,
the very scary looking bug guy to keep the bugs in the yard and out of my house,
two boys to be chauffered to bball camp, laundry, dog hair, and blogging to do I was up to my eyeballs in it.


Yet, Birdie was bored and decided we needed to cook. Or she needed to cook, and I could take pictures for my blog. If I wanted. She definitely knows how to spin it.

"Do you want to, Mom?"

"Of course, sweet cheeks. That laundry will wait another day. Your daddy can turn his socks inside out."

This was hot stuff. Hold the postings. I could take pictures of our cooking for my first blogging cook-torial. So here we go.

I pulled out the kids cookbook we bought 2 years ago at the school bookfair. I knew it was bound for greatness.

We spent the next 30 minutes devouring the cook books for ideas and a recipe we actually had all the ingredients to make. We settled on Plankton in a Blanket. We didn't have croissant dough, so we substituted biscuit dough. We were thrilled with the results.


The recipe was pretty easy. We skipped the first three steps and decided not to go fishing for plankton and substitute hot dogs. We baked them at 375 degrees for 18 minutes. Not exactly on the Bikini Bootcamp diet, but a mom has to pump her daughter's cooking self-esteem. Deee-lish!

While the dogs were heating in their blankets, Birdie decided we needed dessert to round out our meal and my hips. She chose Gelatin Delight.
First, she dissolved the gelatin in the boiling water.

Next, she stirred in ice water.

She added chopped strawberries and poured the concoction into fancy glasses (as the recipe recommended). She was most excited about the whip cream. That's my girl! She also insisted I take the strawberry off her glass before she started eating.

Here's the glass approximately 45 seconds after she started. I think it receives Birdie's official stamp of approval.

The cooking was a blast. The food great.

Loading the pictures and boring narration - not so good.

Dog Days of Summer Bloggity Giveaway

As part of the Dog Days of Summer Bloggy Giveaway I am proud to present a great CD by Nichole Nordeman called recollection - The Best of Nichole Nordeman.

You may win your very own copy of this fantastic CD by replying in my comments section with what makes you feel like the Best Mom in the World. You know, what's your own version of a June Cleaver moment. I feel I am Mom of the World when I bake something. And no, I do not bake very often. On Saturday, I made cup cakes and chocolate frosting - from scratch! Nobody even asked me to bake. I knew I was Queen Mommy for the day. Loving my family is tied very closely to filling their tummies.

So what makes you feel like you're actually a great mom. Let me see your comments by Friday morning at 6 am - EST. That's when I'll do a random drawing of all the comments. I might even add the funny book I picked up with the CD as a bonus. I'll throw (make that lovingly place) the winner's package in the mail Friday.

I hope to hear your comments. I'm sure you'll be able to out do my occasional baking. Remember, it's not about what sounds the best, but what crazy thing makes you feel the best.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Gallows

Excellent!!!

Absolutely Excellent!!!

I've had to duel my son and husband for time to read the final installment of the Harry Potter series, but I've just finished. After a shower and cleaning up the mess that has taken up residence in our house this weekend, I plan to reread it. It could well be my favorite book of the series. You know, I like to know how things turn out in the end. And Rowling presents a great ending to the storyline. She even leaves enough open for us to use our imaginations a little without mudding the story line. I am so proud of myself for not skipping ahead or looking at the last chapter at all.

I've heard reviews that call J.K. Rowling's ending to the series a blood-bath. I don't want to give anything away, but there is a war going on against Lord Voldemort and the evil he spreads. For a real, complete literary review you could click here.

I continue to be amazed and supremely impressed with Rowling's imagination. What a gift! The way she ties it all together and reveals the mysteries by presenting new mysteries. Excellent! Oh, did I say that already?

Sooo, I think I need to pay attention to my life outside of a great novel for a few hours at least. Then I can start reading again without too much guilt.

Thanks, Ms. Rowling! I certainly hope there's another great writer out there creating books we will love almost as much.

Friends and Magazines

My good friend T was on her way to the early Saturday morning swim meet. Why do they have to be so early? Early on a Saturday?

Her husband asked, "Do you have a magazine to read between races?"

She answered, "I don't need a magazine. I'll have Katie."

When her girls saw me arrive at the swim meet they said, "There's your magazine, Mom."

Thanks T for looking forward to talk with me as much as I was looking forward to talking with you!

My Childhood Home

Mary at Owlhaven has a carnival about childhood homes going on that I think sounds fun. Click the picture above for a link to her carnival.

I grew up on our family farm in North Carolina. It was a dairy farm for many years, but my granddaddy retired when I was about 8 and my dad and uncle did other things. We still had animals though and plenty of crops, hay, and veggies. Oh, and a long, long dirt road. Kids at school were amazed that my driveway was a mile long. For real! During the winter my dad would drive me to the bus stop.

Some of the things I loved about my childhood home were:

waking up to the sunrise through my windows,
riding my bike down the rise from the barn,
the smell of the stall where all the puppies were born,
the pine plank kitchen table we still sit around to catch up,
the wood stove that would make us open the window in 15 degree weather,
the little white pantry door and the freezer full of girl scout cookies,
bumping down the carpeted stairs,
playing up and down the creek until we were lost,
and the waterfall where my husband proposed.

But my favorite spot was always the front porch particularly at dusk. I loved looking out into the field, and pretending to get married under the magnificent oak trees. Now, the house I grew up in is a very old farm house and the front porch once looked out on a dirt road that no longer exists. I think the view is improved. The front porch is actually the back porch, but why would we call it anything different. The road's only been gone for 75 years.

And that's another thing I love about my childhood home. The history, the family ties, the love that's been shared, and the love yet to come between those worn wooden walls.

What is Heaven?

Do you know? I'm sure you have some kind of idea. Vague thoughts.

Hugs and sticky kisses from a child that loves you completely and whole heartily.
Putting your head on your true love's shoulder and dancing to music only the two of you hear.
Hot coffee and quiet before life wakes around you.
Chocolate anything.
A morning when no one forgets anything, and you don't yell at the kids as you get them out the door.
Forgiveness for something you truly regret.
Being filled the a peace beyond all understanding that introduces you to the God that has always loved you.

My brother and I dove into this interesting conversation on our drive to my Dad's. I mostly listened to my brother's views, not wanting to stop his verbal thought process, but I have my own ideas. He thinks he's in heaven now. He has a family he adores, a new home, a puppy, and a generally good life. He looks at the problems he runs into as a barometer to make him appreciate all the good in his life.

My dad and I both agreed that you can definitely make your own hell on earth. And it's in having peace with your life that things become heavenly. I think there is a definite divine difference between heavenly days and heaven.

I've heard heaven described as walking out of your earthly body into your heavenly form where all the troubles and pains of this life disappear. A friend that lost her father described heaven as her dad with his relatives cruising on the inter-coastal waterway. In 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper, he talks of heaven as a place full of beautiful music, the people you love, a brilliant light, and a joy that could only come from God.

I know in my heart there must be a heaven. I know it in that place that recognizes God's Holy Spirit and calls me to him. I know we will no longer be tempted and our earthly desires will be quenched. I think it is so much more than what we see, feel, and comprehend on this earth. But I also think God gives us glimpses of heaven each day by revealing his spirit. I think that by recognizing those glimpses and being thankful for them we discover heavenly moments in this life. I've had those moments in peaceful times and times of true trial. It is the closeness to God that I've felt at those times that continues to draw me closer to the Lord I love.

To be filled with God's peace is a blessing. It is a warm hug and sticky kiss from God. It is the joy in being alive. It is the faith that carries me on...

towards heaven when I'll meet my God face to face.

Summer Giveaway

Shannon over at Rocks in My Dryer is hosting yet another great carnival. Since I was just at the Beth Moore stupendous pre-conference day, and I had to buy something, anything to curb my excitement. I have a great giveaway for the Dog Days & Summer Bloggy Giveaway. Check back here on Monday, July 23 when I announce what it is. I'll be waiting for your comments!

Getting Kids to Move

Works for Me Wednesdays at Rocks in My Dryer -

This tip will sound so easy you probably won't believe it. But you have to try it.

I like things done, NOW! It kinda really drives me nuts when I ask my kids to do things, and they don't do them like immediately.

Or they say, "In a minute mom."

Which translates to, "Never, and hopefully, you'll forget you asked."

And who has kids that jump up to do household chores or help their mom immediately? I did not birth that kind of child. I birthed the normal, I-hate-when-my-mom-nags-me-to-do-something children. However, I've found a solution that still surprises me and helps me deal with my "immediately" problem.

When I need the kids to clean their bathroom, take out the trash, and so on and so forth, I ask,

"Do you want to sweep the garage now or in 10 minutes?" (You pick the time - 5, 8, 10, 20).

They almost always say unanimously, "10 minutes!"

Great by me. I've come to realize I can wait 10 minutes if there's no excessive nagging by me required. I set the oven timer for 10 minutes, and in 10 minutes they do the chore. No arguing or whining. Well, at least no excessive whining, and I don't pull out my hair just trying to get them to stand up.

I think that giving the kids the power to choose the time lets them win what they see as a battle. I see it as a win-win situation. Now or 10 minutes works for me. Whoo-hoo, they do the chore!

Try it. I'm still shocked it works so well.

In A Rush

Boy, oh, boy! The last several days events from Beth Moore, to talking with my brother, to fear for my dad's health, to enjoying a few nights in my childhood home are really starting to percolate. I'm pretty sure if I add some coffee I won't even be able to get all the ideas on the screen or down on paper.

But alas, that it all must wait.

The Verizon guys are coming to switch everything over in our house today. I hope they don't mind stepping over the mountains of laundry and pushing through the clouds of dog hair that accumulated while I was gone. It's going to be a great day. I have ideas zinging in my head and housework to accomplish. I feel a productive day coming!

Back to Your Roots

I have always had sissy, city girl tendencies.

There I admit it.

I LOVE living 5 minutes from the grocery store, and the Walmart, and even a Target. Yes, I'm a mom in retail, mass merchandising heaven. I could walk to Target if I wanted, but how would I get all my bags of treasure home? I love city water and a garbage disposal. I love that the trash man comes and takes your trash away. Far, Far Away.

Yet, the farmer in me longs to come home to the land. Home to the sunrise over the trees with no accompanying morning traffic allegro. Home to rows of homegrown tomatoes, potatoes, room for cantaloupe, and more sun flowers than you can imagine. Home to creeks, and fields, and dirt roads. And home to a whole bunch of animals that love you because you carry the feed bucket.

One of the perks to Dad actually realizing that, "It's hot as Hades outside, and I need to stay inside," was that I got to feed all the animals around here. I started with the goats.

You know goats are not particularly picky about what they eat. Or even where or how they eat. In fact, as they saw me coming with the large galvanized pan of feed they quickly climbed into the feed trough. Nothing says thank you for dinner like a bunch of goats standing in their plate. The horse was not to be outdone. He quickly nudged a few aside to eat as much of the goat food as he could. At that point I realized I probably should have fed the horse first. But since I know from experience that goats will eat anything, and do I mean anything, I didn't worry about them starving and headed back to get the horse feed.

Now, the horse was still quite busy snarfing down the goat feed when I carried his bucket to the barn. I had to balance it carefully, because my old cat Jazz decided to rub up against each of my legs every step I took to make sure I didn't forget to feed her next. It's a little difficult to carry a bucket of feed and not crush the cat under your feet for a city-farm girl with no grace in her fancy flip flops. But I managed, fed the horse and looked around the barn for the cat food. Three cats giving me the stink eye and no food in the barn. You can believe I hustled it back to the house to find the cat food.

Dad helped by asking, "You didn't take the cat food with you when you went to feed the horse?"

Duh.

Rather than answering, I ran back up to the barn with the food to high kitty approval. Except for Jazz, who had been starving moments ago. I apparently had offended her by not feeding her at the proper time. She now sat off to the side of the barn giving me the look. It said, " I'm not hungry now. The food won't taste the same." Cats. I'm sure she ran all the other cats off and ate all the food herself as soon as I was out of sight.

The only animals left to feed were Dad and I. I got to pick my own potatoes, tomatoes, and cantaloupe that we had for dinner. Fresh and delicious. I even enjoyed doing the dishes. In the house that is. I loved my minutes of feeding, but when it comes time to clean that barn, I'm going back to claim my city girl status.

Review of Harry Potter Movie

I enjoyed the first half of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It had the dark, angst of adolescence feeling that the book used to fill over 700 pages. As a great admirer of the Potter books, I approach the movies as a completely different beast. I try not to compare them too much. No one could sit through a movie that contained every morsel from the books. While my eldest child protests every deviation from the book, I applaud the tone and feeling that transfers from the book to film.

The second half of Harry Potter IV? Who knows? I'm sure it's pretty good. Or it could be awful.

I couldn't tell you.

Halfway through the movie, I received a call that my dad had just entered the ER, they thought it was just dehydration, and they'd call me in an hour with more details. I did not know what to do with myself. There was no reason to pull the kids out of the movie to watch their mother watch a phone, so I went back inside the theatre and prayed.

So, you see, I think I'm going to need to see that movie on video someday.

Two hours later I found myself in the car with my brother traveling to check on my dad. Dad's fine now, and I'm on Dad watch. My job is to keep him in the house drinking Gatorade and out of the garden. I'm also suppose to try and convince him to take it easy for a few days without nagging him. Amazingly, much harder than you would think for a man who spent the night in the hospital.

Six hours in the car with my brother talking,
driving the back roads of my childhood,
a phone call no child wants to get,
taking instructions from doctors and pharmacists for my invincible father,
and a gracious God that heard and answered prayers.

I have plenty of blog fodder. I just need time to think clearly and narrow the focus. More importantly, I need to keep an eye on my dad. I think I heard him mention checking the horse, and last time I checked that was outside in the heat.

Beth Moore Was Fabulous

Whew!!!

The Holy Spirit has filled me and worn me slam out! Beth Moore is going to need to sleep for three days after her amazing, inspiring, Glory-filled speaking today. She has more energy than a room full of three year olds. She touched our hearts and challenged us to become closer with God through all the seasons of our lives. She is an amazing women letting God lead her life.

We picked her out in the crowd before she spoke. While Travis Cottrell (He was divine!) led us in Praise and Worship, she was the one dancing in the cute outfit with her hands lifted high to God. We noticed they gave her her own row so she had plenty of room to move. I took lots of pictures of the back of her dancing, but either she was so lively, or I was so excited, they really aren't worth sharing.

And just to let you know Beth, we'd already guessed you had a caffeine addiction before you owned up to it.

I need to spend some quiet time processing what I learned today, and maybe take a little nap. But I heard what God said through Beth today, I took notes, and I'm glad He calls my name.

Beth Moore in Washington, DC

I am on my way (as of 6:30 am Friday morning) to see Beth Moore live at the Women of Faith Conference in Washington, DC.

Yippee! Hooray! Hallelujah!!!

I've had my ticket since February, but I'm a typical mom. I came up with a million reasons why I am so needed at home that I couldn't possibly go. Then there was much, much drama at our house this morning, which I will not rehash to save all involved preteen embarrassment. So, I knew since the drama and hurt feelings circus had arrived at my house, I really shouldn't go.

But you see, I had made a promise to God. Not a deal, a promise.

I prayed several times this week about finding a sitter for the conference and whether God even wanted me to go to the conference. I prayed that God would make it clear to me what I should do. Praise the heavens, He made it clear! Not only did he connect me with a sitter, but she's college age and can drive the kids to all their activities.

Yeah, I'm thinking God wants me to hear Beth Moore, and I couldn't be more excited.

Summer Fashions

Our daughter is a glorious gift from God. In other words, she's a typical third child - a very happy surprise. After two boys, my husband always says he came through in the clutch by producing a girl. I'm pretty glad he did.

Dressing a girl, which requires more than jeans, t-shirts and tennis shoes, came as a bit of a shock to me at first. I quickly rose to the occasion and have done my female duty to keep our economy going by purchasing as many adorable outfits, dresses, and shoes as I can without sending my marriage to divorce court.

And yet, my precious Birdie has grown and developed her own fashion sense.

Picture this -

It's 90 degrees and humid yesterday. Birdie puts on red shiny boy basketball shorts that fall below her knees that she begged me to buy her until I caved. She coordinated these with a wrinkled, hand-me-down, permanently stained, noticeably different colored red t-shirt. She added flip flops that amazingly have a little pink on them. Finally, the crowning glory was her Sponge Bob Square Pants toboggan, turned backwards so the picture of Sponge Bob is in the back, off-center. Yes, a winter hat pulled all the way down so her hair and ears were completely hidden. It was a great look.

Now, I'm a southern girl. I grew up in the country on a farm. Growing up you went "to town" on Thursdays. It was a big event, and you dressed nicely, like a lady. My grandma was always talking about grace and telling me to walk like a lady. I live "in town" now, but those ideas have stuck with me. Most days I survey what I'm wearing before I run to the grocery store. Yesterday, I needed to run lots of errands.

So, what to do about Birdie's outfit.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I took her everywhere with me. Yes, we marched ourselves right into Nordstroms. Not to shop for her but for her father. We got quite a few looks, but she was happy. She even asked to look in the girls' section. I casually showed her that they make athletic wear for girls.

She said, "Let me think about it Mom."

Thank God for her independence and confidence. Or maybe lack of concern for what others think of her. It sure is fun to be around such a happy little girl.

Surviving the Grocery Store with Preteen Boys

I thought I'd try Shannon's Works for Me Wednesdays Carnival.

When my 3 tots were still little tots I taught them to always hold on to the cart as we shopped. That way no one ran out in front of other carts, cars, or simply down the aisle. Now that they've grown A LOT, they still want to hold onto the cart.

You cannot fit down a grocery aisle with two 5 feet plus boys and a smaller sister holding onto the cart.

On the other hand, if I let the boys walk freely, they tend to end up poking, pushing, and annoying each other and me to distraction.

Enter a new idea for grocery store survival.

I give the boys their own list to complete while we're at the grocery store. Our new Bloom has these great smaller carts, and I've laid down the law about acting like a real shopper and not terrorizing other shoppers. I have the boys start at one side of the store, I start at the other with their little sister in charge of my list, and we meet in the middle. The boys might check in with me for clarification on some items, and I give them some choices. Last week they chose to buy fat free hot dogs. Kudos for wanting to be healthy. After trying to eat the fat free hot dogs, they decided they would choose differently next time. A great lesson learned!

I figure there are several perks for this idea.

• The boys are learning to grocery shop, with supervision.
• No one screams about going to the store. It's fun for them.
• We finish in much less time.
• No wrestling matches down the aisle!!!

A Day with a Perfect Stranger

What a great little book! I read A Day with a Perfect Stranger by David Gregory in less than a hour yesterday. In a quick 101 pages, Gregory describes how and why God wants to fill your heart with love through the dialogue between a frustrated wife and the stranger who sits down beside her. It speaks to your heart just as God wishes to speak with you.

In this book, Mattie despises religion and thinks she doesn't believe in God. She opens up to the stranger beside her as he ever so casually helps her clarify her deepest longings and what she truly wants and needs from life.

I've spent the last year, and even this morning, asking God, "What do you want me to do (with my life)?" (I can get stuck on one subject.)

This book helped clarify, once again, that God wants us to love him and have an ongoing relationship with him. Everything else is gravy.

Just the other night I looked at my son and told him I missed spending time with him - after we'd spent all day together. We'd been physically together in the same rooms all day, but we hadn't truly talked or connected. I needed some Little Man time.

We, or at least I, do the same thing with God. We know He's there, we say the Our Father and our nightly prayers, but are we truly connecting with Him? Luckily God is always there waiting. He keeps calling to our hearts, making us search for the one and only thing that will completely fulfill us. Him.

Check out A Day with a Perfect Stranger and it's prequel Dinner with a Perfect Stranger. You have to love a quick, feel good book.

Recovering from Jet Lag

I was looking for inspiration this morning, and Shannon over at Rocks In My Dryer provided it. It seems we all should proceed with extreme caution after returning from vacation.

My husband and I spent a week touring China this May. The trip was amazing, and I'm sure it will provide me with many blogging ideas. However, the adaptation to normal home life after the trip was a little rocky.

As you might imagine, there's a little jet lag involved with a trip to China. What you don't realize is that even if you think you've had enough sleep, and you're awake and functioning, you should not try normal household activities. Here are a few lessons I learned.

• Don't do laundry the first day home. Now normally, I put off laundry as long as possible. But laundry that has traveled from another country tends to retain the absolute worst smells from said country. It will not smell as fresh as your husband's workout clothes that he left in the car trunk during the last heatwave. It will truly stink to high heaven. Yes, every time you walk by the odorous pile you will be instantly transported back to the worst smelling place of your entire trip. You.Must.Resist.Temptation.To.Do.Laundry. Or you might just wash all the cool foreign currency you brought back for the kids, the tickets and pictures of yourself at the Kung Fo show, and your passport! And everyone knows how hard it is to get one of those lately. Imagine having to replace it.

• Do not use complex electrical appliances like a microwave. You might be tempted to just nuke your poor hungry children something rather than risk cooking or driving. But you might microwave a sausage wrapped in a pancake on a stick for 4 minutes instead of the 40 seconds you intended. This could result in filling the entire house with an odd orange colored smoke requiring 3 days of fans in the front and back doors to air out the house. Not that I would know this for a fact, because what kind of mother pushes 4 minutes instead of 40 seconds on a microwave.

• Do not attempt to clean and save the aforementioned microwave. Anyone sleep deprived enough to confuse 4 minutes and 40 seconds does not need to Google household hints on how to clean a burnt microwave. If you continue such ridiculous attempts to reclaim your status as a functioning mother, just stop and call in reinforcements.

• If you decide to throw all caution to the wind and clean the microwave, first move the microwave outside of your house. Don't ask why, just do it. Alternating boiling lemon juice and vinegar and wiping down the inside of the microwave with the steaming hot liquids works wonders, even if you do end up with burnt fingers. However, the suggestion to just leave coffee grounds in the microwave to absorb the odor means - put the grounds in a bowl and close the microwave. Under no circumstances does it mean to turn the microwave on with the coffee grounds inside.

• Did you get that - UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES!

Note to self: Burnt coffee smell is harder to clean than burnt pancake/sausage smell making stinky laundry smell heavenly.

Morning Prayers

I drove my husband to work one morning last week due to an unfortunate incident involving replacing the air conditioner in his car. The unfortunate part is that it will cost about $1000. I consider that pretty unfortunate, but as he reminded me, “Who wants to sweat in my car all summer? Not me, not you, and definitely not the kids. It needs to be fixed.”

Anyway, back to the joyful part. As I sleepily climbed into the car beside him hugging my coffee cup and still rubbing sleep out of my eyes, he said,

“Just give me a minute to say my prayers and then we’ll talk. I’ll be quick.”

There’s the joy. Riding beside the man I love, both of us praying to the God we love. That’s big joy. I could have ridden silently praying beside him the entire drive. I hope his day was filled with the joy his words and actions gave me. His day definitely started out the right way, and he said his commute flew by. What a wonderful journey God leads us on. There was a time when he wouldn’t have let me know he was praying beside me. Yet, lately he’s initiated praying together silently and then talking about our prayers afterwards. I’m so thankful that God keeps calling us, asking us to join him in a heavenly relationship. He wants to share all aspects of our lives. I’m so thankful that we, as husband and wife, can sometimes share our love for God.

The Boy Who Lived

The 12 year old lives another day in our house. He's heard more lectures than he ever thought one bad joke could provoke, and I've noticed many glances at me to see if my ears are still smoking. I'm glad to report they have cooled, thank you very much.

It has been an interesting year for him, and I've enjoyed watching him splash into these pre-teen years. Goofy is the word that most often comes to mind. It's a great goofy. He's laughing, we're laughing, and obviously he's trying his hand at making his friends laugh. He's at an age where I am beginning to see flashes of who he truly is and the character that he is forming. There are days I dare think he's going to turn out alright. And then, there are days like yesterday, when I realize there's not enough time to teach him all he needs to learn.

My prayer for him for the last few years has been May he be filled with the joy of the Holy Spirit. Let him be joyful always, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances, for this is your will for him in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 1:6;5:16-18. God has answered that prayer abundantly this year. We have seen the joy we saw in him as a baby and toddler again, and we are thankful. However, I'm realizing that he is entering a time of growth in his life where he will be greatly influenced by people other than my husband and me. I pray that God will place people and circumstances in his life to lead him closer to God.

My mommy super powers are not all I once thought they were. I'm not going to be there every moment. I'm not going to be the one to teach my son every lesson he needs. As he has been since before there was a hair on his beautiful round head, he is in God's hands. I pray God keeps him in the center of his will. I thank God for the front row seat of my son's own journey of faith. I'll be here cheering every step and mis-step of his way.

I love you, sweetie.

Feminism Is Alive

Hold me back!

I think I might need to "go postal" on my oldest son.

And we had had the greatest week together.

Until 30 minutes ago.

That's we he announced to his friend,
"Women don't do anything to contribute in the world. They don't do anything important. They don't hold any positions of value."

I think he went on and on for more effect for a few minutes, but what with my head spinning, fire shooting out my ears, sparks flying from my eyes, and the brief loss of consciousness and reality, I kinda missed the rest.

Once I yelled, "Hey!!!" he stopped talking.

You know, I can really cut someone to the quick with my laser sharp wit.

He was smart enough to change subjects. I decided to contain my verbal fury until his friend exited the car. I didn't need an innocent bystander caught in my onslaught.

Needless to say, I let loose like a woman with no mercy. Honey, stop the car. No one messes with Mama and her inner feminist, which I didn't really know I had until those insane, uneducated, male chauvinist comments fell out of his mouth.

I named every woman in our family with a college degree and their advanced degrees. I named the Supreme Court Justices, Speaker of the House, Mother Theresa, Madame Curie, astronauts, scientists, his pediatrician, J.K. Rowling, Mary, mother of God, and any other mother I could think of. I also explained that women are mothers and wives, so we're the real reason men accomplish anything at all.

I explained that his father is a good man and understands and respects the importance of women, and he sure better start paying attention to the good examples around him.

As I paused to take a breath, and gather more information from the dark black recesses of my freaking out mind, there were many apologies for lack of a good sense of humor coming from the back seat. The siblings in the car even apologized for being present during such a debacle.

I don't know how these vile thoughts entered my son's mind and exited his mouth. I'm definitely going to make sure he learns this lesson.

Oh, God bless the girl marries one day. I promise I'll try to have him fixed before you meet.

Raising Girls, Raising Daughters

How do we raise daughters we will admire as women when they grow up?

I rediscovered this little book Mother to Daughter while organizing today. No, it doesn't have all the answers, but it does have a few gems. Many of her insights truly hit home and a couple need to be tatooed on my body parts as reminders. It is well worth the quick read.

I think what we need to realize most about raising our daughters is that we should always act and behave how we want them to act and behave as women. Our daughters will be learning by our example every day of our lives. They will see through all our pretenses and feel our hypocrisies. We should talk with them about why we make the decisions we do and how we learned how to make those decisions.

I also found this book A Book for my Daughter by Pamela Winterbourne. I think if we remind our daughters often what she has to say we'll stay on the right course.

Here's some of what she had to say:

Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing,
you are always in my heart.
Let us never forget the wonderful times we have had together -
In which sometimes I led the way,
and other times you led.
May there always be places for you attain peace.
Savor the myriad small pleasures in life.
May you have many moments of success...
I know you will keep alive your capacity for wonder and delight.
Follow your boundless curiosity,
and the creative impulse which awoke in you so early.
May you travel widely,
and take from each place its unique goodness.
Enjoy a great variety of people,
growing from you friendships.
I am confident you will dream grandly,
as you did as a child...
Always know that I love you,
and am grateful for your presence in my life.

As a daughter who has never had a great relationship with my mother, I am more than a little nervous about raising my own daughter. I do a lot of praying, and I try to remember what drove/drives me crazy about my own mother.

And did I mention I do a little praying.

Mostly I pray that she'll like me when she grows up, and occasionally along the way. See I know if I'm doing my job correctly - that is raising her to be a strong, secure, happy woman - she's not always going to like me very much. I just hope when she's my age, spending time with her old mother will be a joy, not a required headache.

Learning to Dance

"Would you like to dance?" asked my sweet Birdie.

I couldn't jump up fast enough. My daughter led me to the front hall, cued the jazz music (Christmas jazz that is) and put her hand in mine. Somewhere during her 8 years she has picked up the box step. It goes with the jazz. We spent a precious few songs dancing like I was 8 again pretending to be on Solid Gold Dancers with my girlfriends.

I wouldn't trade these summer days home with my children for anything.

Are Fireworks Illegal?

"Mom, Dad says that fireworks are illegal," said Connor.

"Yes, Connor, they are," answered his mom.

"Awe man, then I don't want to go to the block party," whined Connor.

"Connor, just because fireworks are illegal, doesn't mean there won't be any at the party," said his mom.

And were there ever fireworks in our neighborhood last night. I think each street and cul de sac were hard at work celebrating the one night in the year that we encourage our men to blow up things and impress us. One husband commented that the 4th of July is his idea of the perfect holiday.

He said, "You get the day off work. You don't have to get up early to open any presents, put in batteries, and play with the kids' toys. You don't have to invite your relatives. There's no big meal to make, and you can throw paper plates away. Really, you pretty much don't have to do anything until the afternoon, and then you stand in your yard with your neighbors and a cold one. And for a bonus, you get to set off fireworks. Yeah, 4th of July's the best."

You know, he's right, it was fun.

Happy Independence Day!!!

Happy 4th of July everyone! I hope everyone has a great day eating, napping, swimming, and celebrating. As recent additions to the greater Washington, DC area we're feeling even more festive and patriotic this year.

We're going to our very first block party. I've made a great cake, deviled eggs, and the kids (only the youngest will actually do this) get to decorate their bikes for a neighborhood bike parade. Call me "Apple Pie" and I couldn't feel anymore American today.


I hope you have a great celebration where ever you are today. Here are a few pictures from previous trips downtown. I think Washington, DC is a beautiful city.


The National Archives building. It was our first stop with my Godson last week. He's only seen National Treasure about 76 times, so this was his highlight. I'd show you a picture of the Declaration of Independence, but if you've been to the Archives you know they keep it really dark inside. It sure makes for excellent photo ops.

Last September we saw the President land on the front lawn of the Whitehouse. Another highlight day! We were at the top of the hill beside the Washington Monument when the three helicopters circled, and one landed.

Finally, the Jefferson Memorial, because it's my favorite. I have loved it since I was a child being dragged around DC in the August heat by my parents each summer on our way to visit relatives.

Goodmorning, Sunshine!

There's nothing like the sweet kisses and cuddles of a child waking. My daughter will still wrap her long legs around me and nestle her head in the crook of my neck. Her sweet smell and the love we both feel makes me dread how she grows a little bigger each day. You see she's 8, and I know these days won't last forever. Even though she' s the baby of the family and plays that card to her full advantage at all times, she doesn't like to hold my hand in public very often and getting another kiss before bedtime is highly unlikely. I probably just got the best hugs and kisses I'll get all day from my baby girl. She held me tight and snuggled in close and let me kiss her as many times as I could. Being a mommy is good.

Worth the Wait

As my blog title might suggest, I love flowers. Our next door neighbor of our very first house dubbed me Lillie Appleseed, because I was always in the yard digging and planting. There's quite a bit of farming blood in me, and the overwhelming joy that fills me when I simply dig in the dirt still amazes me. I am so glad that God makes himself evident in the natural world around us.

Well, we moved 4 1/2 hours north last August leaving my lovingly cultivated, begged, borrowed and graciously shared garden of flowers behind. We're not going into the trauma of hearing that the new owners decided to mow over it all. Oh, the horror!!! I can't even figure out what kind of huge mower could have mutilated my babies. Luckily, I was able to bring a few plants with me. Only a couple survived being dug up in August, hauled up 3 flights of apartment stairs, living on a balcony for 3 weeks, being dragged back down said stairs by three not so willing children, hanging out on the deck of the new house for most of the fall and surviving an incredibly cold February after a spring like January.

Today, it was all worth it.

And the Results Are In...

I know you’ve been dying to know. What on earth did I wear? How did my hair handle the humidity and splashing? Have I found my calling as a Swim Meet Marshal? Well, let’s just start with what my daughter said when I came downstairs,

“Mom, why are you dressed so pretty for a swim meet.”

I hoped it was a good omen.

First, women dress a little differently here than from where we moved. Here the prime colors combinations are black, black, khaki, brown, black and maybe a touch of white for special occasions. To say my predominantly pink wardrobe still garners comments and second looks is an understatement. Luckily, the head swim team person (official lingo) caught me before I got dressed and told me that everyone working the swim meet was to wear black shorts and a white shirt. I opted for a black skort/white polo combo and was relieved that I was just going to blend in with all the other parent volunteers.

Yeah.

Except for that neon orange vest.

It’s a good thing my daughter told me I looked pretty before we left the house, because my husband stood behind me and heckled me during the meet. I think it was more than just the vest. I’m not sure he was duly impressed with my marshaling. So how did I do?

Let’s just say, I don’t think they added a 3 chair barrier beside where I was standing, because I was doing such a great job.

However, there is reason to celebrate. My little Birdie swam great! She placed 3rd in her favorite event and improved her times in both events. She was thrilled. As her mom, I know her excitement is what it’s all about.

Joys of Motherhood

I really should know what I’m volunteering to do. Really, I should.

We’ve moved in the past year, and swim teams are big here. Very Big. Other parents remember you’re child’s last and best swim times kind of big. I’m still unsure where they even publish the swim times. And trust me, where I grew up, swimming holes did not have swim teams.

However, being the most wonderful, supportive mom I am, and also one of the few mom’s just sitting around simply watching her child swim without an actual job to do at the last three swim meets, I caved and replied to the desperate email for a Marshal for tonight’s swim meet. Now, if I’d taken about 2 seconds to consider what the title “Marshal” usually refers to (as in Marshal Dillon from Gunsmoke) maybe I wouldn’t have hit that reply button so quickly.

Imagine my joy when I was instructed that the job of Marshal is so highly important that it is the only job required to wear a neon orange vest at the entire meet. Lucky for me, I’m sure this will only highlight my Marshaling capabilities.

Oh, yes, the actual job description. I required to keep order on the pool deck and not let people walk around when and where they’re not supposed to be walking. Right.

Did I mention that I am ridiculously allergic to conflict? I mean I can boss a group of 4 year old preschoolers like General Swartzkoff. But tell other adults, that I don’t know, to stop walking? This should be one of my most impressive moments as the new girl in the neighborhood.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Right now I need to pick out an outfit to compliment neon orange and fix my hair. Because maybe if my hair looks good enough, they won’t care if I’m just standing there sweating while wearing the vest.

Overheard...

Yesterday during a freeze tag game between 10 year old boys...

"Running sprints for baseball really helps in this game," declares first boy swaggering to the water fountain.

"Yeah, so does gymnastics and diving!" says second boy jogging to keep up.

An Uncommon Friendship

I’m completing Beth Moore 's David 90 Days with a Heart like His this summer. Of course, as usual I’m a few days weeks behind, but I am so enjoying this Bible study. I’ve actually enjoyed all the Bible studies I’ve done. I'm thinking God likes that.

Well, on day 22, Beth (I’ll just call her Beth, because I love her like I actually know her) addresses the friendship of David and Jonathan and what an amazing friendship it was. Beth lists and details three factors which made this friendship so special.

1) Uncommon friends can speak their minds without fear.
2) Uncommon friends can share their hearts without shame.
3) Uncommon friends can stay close even at a distance.

Okay, so I’m crying now, but I'm sure you can completely relate. I am blessed by the best friend in the world. I know you think yours is the best also, and I hope she is. But mine was Chosen. By. God. For. Me.

You know what makes her the best? We love each other as we are. We don’t love to do all the same things, I’m pretty sure we always vote for different Presidential candidates, and well, we’re just different in a whole lotta ways. But we love each other for who we are. No judging, no frustration, no unattainable expectations. We want the best for each other, even if that means we’re not always on the same page in our life plans. This means she still loves me even when she knows I am absolutely an airhead.

I can speak my mind with her. I can lay out the dirt of my marriage, my bad mothering, and insecurities and know she’ll give me her best advice. She won’t even mind when I ignore it and have to ask for her opinion again next week. I can speak honestly when she asks my opinion. We all need a friend to pull our heads out of the sand at times. I once told her she was being completely stupid (in not such kind, child-friendly words), yet I was going to stand by her anyway. I completely shocked her and myself. Not my proudest moment, but an honest one.

I love how she loves my children and truly cares about them. I love how she really talks with my children. I love her children, because I see the pieces of her and her husband melded together into these 2 great kids. I love to spend any time I can with her. We live in different cities now, and I’m still surprised how I just break down in tears when I first see her again. She is the family and sister God gave me later in life. I would do anything she needed.

I pray that everyone has such a friend. God gave us girlfriends to make this journey fun. They’re here on good hair days and the days we wallow in our self made hells. They’re here for the celebrations and to pull us up when our world crashes. They are the opinionated sounding board that helps us make sense of our own lives. When anything happens, and I mean the anything that a lot of days is ab-so-lute-ly nothing, she is the person I want to discuss it with over a cup of coffee.

I’ve often thanked God for my best friend. Beth Moore’s book made me realize today that God brought us together to show me his spiritual bond of three. It is God’s love planted in our friendship that makes it so strong. I witness God’s love each day in the trust and security of this friendship, that I know will withstand a lifetime of my craziness. If this earthly friendship has brought me such joy; oh, the joy God has in store for me with my relationship with him.

God is good!

Heavenly Hammock

Hon finally has his own little slice of heaven. Or should I say swing of heaven. I brought him a hammock back from the beach as an anniversary gift almost 2 years ago.

What can I say; we've been busy.

But today was the day. It's up, and Hon is taking it for a test nap. Just wait until the kids discover it. I sure hope he's finished with his nap by then.

Serious Sunday

There is a serious game of Axis and Allies going on at our house. It’s some strategy game concerning WWII that my husband has had since childhood and recently taught to our two sons. The three men in the household can spend up to 6 hours at this game. I would have pulled my hair out after 20 minutes. Therefore, I graciously find other ways to occupy my time. Can you say, "Internet?"

The board has been set up on the kitchen table since Friday when Hon arrived home from work. The game was started right after dinner, but delayed due to an uninterested friend spending the night. The lack of interest kicked in right after my eldest gave him the usual oldest sibling abbreviated rules.

“Here roll the dice, and I’ll move for you.”

That tantalizing explanation kind of sucked all the fun from the game for the friend, and all children quickly moved back to ping pong and computer games.

The game resumed yesterday afternoon while I attended a baby shower. It was delayed shortly before I arrived home due to nap time – for Dad. However, I don’t think there will be any delays today. They are so intent on playing at the moment no breaks are allowed.

For ANY reason. Picture what I just heard.

“Hey, dude, crack the door and let me in.”

“No, Dad. I’m busy.”

“Well, do you want me to roll the dice for you?”

“NO, Dad.”

“Then crack the door and roll the dice.”

CRACK.

I’m beginning to realize why no one in this house respects the closed door for privacy theory. I’m still shaking my head. At least at this rate they’ll finish the game, and I’ll recover the table for dinner tonight.