Overheard at the beauty salon:
In a discussion regarding the recent birth of 8 precious babies to a woman who has 6 additional children: "Shouldn't Social Services step in anyway? They only have 3 bedrooms!" um....call me nutty, but I don't believe not having individual bedrooms is cause to require a visit from Child Protective Services. And silly me, but I'm thinkin' that CPS is probably onto the case, as it's PLASTERED ALL OVER THE WORLD!!! Leave the poor woman alone!
Apparently one of the hairdresser's children has contracted the horrible disease known as Chicken Pox. "And she had the shot!" (I nearly fell off my chair laughing at Savannah, who was nearly falling off her chair rolling her eyes. Fortunately, her bangs were covering her eyes good enough that only I knew she was rolling her eyes.)
Points to ponder:
If you're going to drive left-of-center for an extended period of time when I'm advancing toward you minding my own business in my own lane, you probably shouldn't identify yourself with "S---n Farms" splashed across your windshield. I'm just sayin'...
Little Mister D, it is never a good idea to demonstrate that you've had enough dinner by picking potato and cake crumbs from your plate and flingin' 'em over your shoulder when Mama is watchin' ya...
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
A Favorite Author of Mine
Several weeks ago, my aunt suggested that various family members begin reading and commenting on a book together. After several days of bantering, bartering, bargaining, and bickering, my sister Teresa managed to pull the group together with the first book chosen being Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot. Our group consists of myself and my 3 sisters (although my oldest sister may be incognito as her husband), my favorite aunt (she's pretty much my ONLY aunt, but even if she wasn't, she'd still be my favorite 'cuz she has red hair and laughs at my stupidity), some nieces, a few in-laws and accompanying relatives I may or may not have met, and perhaps a stray or two of which I'm unaware. Teresa named us The Book Bunch. (She's good like that.)
I've never subscribed to a Book Review Club, mostly because I have a mental image I'm not prepared to handle. Stodgy old men with pipes and plaid jackets, middle aged women wearing Christmas sweaters, and a lone gorgeous gay guy who thinks he signed up for a cooking class all gathering in a dark paneled room discussing poetry by B.T.Donethat and drinking weak tea with lemon wedges. That's the picture in my brain.
The pipe would be cool, the Christmas sweaters not so much, I don't get poetry, and the gay guy - well, hopefully he can make a better cup of tea by the time the book review is complete. As for The Book Bunch, it's been humorous, if nothing else, reading the emails flying back and forth between Michigan, Texas, Indiana, Ohio and North Carolina (who am I forgetting?!?) in just simply preparing to begin to commence to think about starting the first book, and all the resulting confusion! So far we've learned that Keeping a Quiet Heart apparently doesn't quiet the fingers very fast.
Moving forward...
Over the past several months, the concepts of quieting my heart, being content, waiting on God's timing, and holding my tongue have been very present in my mind. Anyone who knows me in the slightest way will most likely need a paramedic's assistance at the mere thought that I could be successful at any attempt of patience or shutting up. So believe me when I say that while it isn't easy, it also isn't under my own power that I'm learning. Learning not perfected by any stretch of the imagination. I don't see myself hitting the road to promote my latest book on Virtuous Living with an Emphasis on Taming the Tongue anytime soon!
God's timing is a very strange thing that makes no sense to humans. I don't presume to understand why things happen the way they do when they do. I would drive myself crazy trying to figure it out. Actually, I nearly did! Not so fun - don't really wanna go there again! But one of the really cool things about learning to rely on God is that He gives you peace about the unanswerable. He makes it OK that you don't have all the answers. He helps you accept the realization that your life isn't perfect but He loves you anyway. He puts people in your path for specific purposes and while you may not like it one little bit, it's part of His plan for you.
A few months ago, I caved to technology and created a Facebook account. I've found people from "way back when" just as the creator of this monstrosity must have intended. Friends I'd lost touch with surface on a frequent basis. They've married, divorced, remarried, survived cancer, birthed children, adopted children, buried family members, traveled to other continents, lost jobs, become grandparents, acquired possessions...they've lived. Like me. They've been happy. They've also suffered great loss.
I haven't been involved in the daily lives of most of these old friends. With the exception of my best friend from high school, I have rarely spoken with most of them. It isn't particularly my preference that I only get updates at weddings and funerals, but life is busy. I would love to be with a friend who's undergoing cancer treatment, but my prayers don't have to come from her bedside. They're every bit as effective from my own.
What I would tell my friends, in their good and bad times, is that God is always with them. He knows. He planned. The challenges they face shouldn't be considered their lot in life, but rather what God has assigned before they were ever born. God IS in control, and we can rest assured that His ways are better than ours.
I believe that what gives us a quiet heart is our acceptance of God's plan. Yet, maybe we're so busy asking "why" that we don't see the answers around us. What we perceive as a struggle can be the avenue through which we learn to trust God. God is supreme and He wants us to know Him.
In Keep a Quiet Heart, Elisabeth Elliot says, on page 76:
That is what I want.
I've never subscribed to a Book Review Club, mostly because I have a mental image I'm not prepared to handle. Stodgy old men with pipes and plaid jackets, middle aged women wearing Christmas sweaters, and a lone gorgeous gay guy who thinks he signed up for a cooking class all gathering in a dark paneled room discussing poetry by B.T.Donethat and drinking weak tea with lemon wedges. That's the picture in my brain.
The pipe would be cool, the Christmas sweaters not so much, I don't get poetry, and the gay guy - well, hopefully he can make a better cup of tea by the time the book review is complete. As for The Book Bunch, it's been humorous, if nothing else, reading the emails flying back and forth between Michigan, Texas, Indiana, Ohio and North Carolina (who am I forgetting?!?) in just simply preparing to begin to commence to think about starting the first book, and all the resulting confusion! So far we've learned that Keeping a Quiet Heart apparently doesn't quiet the fingers very fast.
Moving forward...
Over the past several months, the concepts of quieting my heart, being content, waiting on God's timing, and holding my tongue have been very present in my mind. Anyone who knows me in the slightest way will most likely need a paramedic's assistance at the mere thought that I could be successful at any attempt of patience or shutting up. So believe me when I say that while it isn't easy, it also isn't under my own power that I'm learning. Learning not perfected by any stretch of the imagination. I don't see myself hitting the road to promote my latest book on Virtuous Living with an Emphasis on Taming the Tongue anytime soon!
God's timing is a very strange thing that makes no sense to humans. I don't presume to understand why things happen the way they do when they do. I would drive myself crazy trying to figure it out. Actually, I nearly did! Not so fun - don't really wanna go there again! But one of the really cool things about learning to rely on God is that He gives you peace about the unanswerable. He makes it OK that you don't have all the answers. He helps you accept the realization that your life isn't perfect but He loves you anyway. He puts people in your path for specific purposes and while you may not like it one little bit, it's part of His plan for you.
A few months ago, I caved to technology and created a Facebook account. I've found people from "way back when" just as the creator of this monstrosity must have intended. Friends I'd lost touch with surface on a frequent basis. They've married, divorced, remarried, survived cancer, birthed children, adopted children, buried family members, traveled to other continents, lost jobs, become grandparents, acquired possessions...they've lived. Like me. They've been happy. They've also suffered great loss.
I haven't been involved in the daily lives of most of these old friends. With the exception of my best friend from high school, I have rarely spoken with most of them. It isn't particularly my preference that I only get updates at weddings and funerals, but life is busy. I would love to be with a friend who's undergoing cancer treatment, but my prayers don't have to come from her bedside. They're every bit as effective from my own.
What I would tell my friends, in their good and bad times, is that God is always with them. He knows. He planned. The challenges they face shouldn't be considered their lot in life, but rather what God has assigned before they were ever born. God IS in control, and we can rest assured that His ways are better than ours.
I believe that what gives us a quiet heart is our acceptance of God's plan. Yet, maybe we're so busy asking "why" that we don't see the answers around us. What we perceive as a struggle can be the avenue through which we learn to trust God. God is supreme and He wants us to know Him.
In Keep a Quiet Heart, Elisabeth Elliot says, on page 76:
When we find ourselves most hopeless, the road most taxing, we may also find that it is then that the Risen Christ catches up to us on the way, better than our dreams, beyond all our hopes. For it is He - not His gifts, not His power, not what He can do for us, but He Himself - who comes and makes Himself known to us.
That is what I want.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Style Courtesy of PIXAR
When the nearly-3 year old decides he isn't going to take a nap no matter how many times Mommy comes into the bedroom and tells him otherwise, and when that nearly-3 year old is self-sufficient in his own mind, the nearly-3 year old does not always come out of the bedroom looking the way he did when he went in to the bedroom some 3 hours ago...
Cute.
Still means EARLY BEDTIME.
Cute.
Still means EARLY BEDTIME.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
What My Daughter Googles in Her Dreams
Savannah recently went to the pharmacy with me to retrieve Gabe's prescriptions. While we were waiting, she noticed the sign promoting the flu vaccine.
"OOOOoooo! For only $14.99, we'll inject you with toxins!"
Yesterday morning, she came downstairs laughing.
"Mom, I had this really stupid dream. I dreamed we were all at Teresa's house, and Mindy and some of the other foster moms were there. They had put up signs on all of Teresa's doors. They said, 'We support the flu shot'. I went around and put signs on the backs of all the doors. They said, 'I don't support the flu shot. Google it'."
"OOOOoooo! For only $14.99, we'll inject you with toxins!"
Yesterday morning, she came downstairs laughing.
"Mom, I had this really stupid dream. I dreamed we were all at Teresa's house, and Mindy and some of the other foster moms were there. They had put up signs on all of Teresa's doors. They said, 'We support the flu shot'. I went around and put signs on the backs of all the doors. They said, 'I don't support the flu shot. Google it'."
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Seatbelts Required
Our children have known for years that Mom and Dad will not be supplying a car for their 16th birthday. They've been told since early childhood that the age at which they're allowed to get their license depends on their behavior in the years prior to reaching driving age. Driving is considered a privilege, prior to adulthood, in our home. (Call us crazy, but if a teenager is slamming doors when they're angry at a sibling for borrowing a treasured article of clothing without permission, I highly doubt it's in the public's best interest to hand over the keys to the Mercedes to the petulant tyke. Ok, it's not a Mercedes, and the boys are past the tyke stage, but go with me on this one...) There's just much to be said about self-control.
googled
The kids have also been aware that, as the parental units (the apparent popular way to refer to one's parents these days) see driving privileges as a prize to be earned, the prize-winner would be contributing the required funds to attain the aforementioned prize. Definition: Mom and Dad aren't paying for the permit, classes, license, car, gas, repairs or insurance. If we needed the boys to drive, rules might be different, but convenience is the only reason I see them needing to drive for me, and that just isn't a big enough need.
Anyone who knows the boys at all can attest to the differences in their personalities. Preston is like his Dad - he enjoys his alone time. Bucky is like his Mom - he needs social contact frequently. Preston's pretty good at saving money. Bucky can save money temporarily. Preston likes to weigh the pros and cons. Bucky likes to figure it out as he goes.
Preston sees no purpose in spending all the money to get his license now, when he doesn't need to drive and has no car. His theory is "Why should I spend money when my parents take me wherever I need to go?" - that theory is fine, for now, because he doesn't need to go very far. Of course, once he actually needs to get a job, that will change, but his theory is workable for the time being.
Bucky, on the other hand...
...is not content to wait till he's 18 to get his license. The first step accomplished, he now holds his permit. Cost - $22.00
It will take him a while to save the money for classes. Last time I checked, the cost was over $300.00 and he's broke right now. He'll have plenty of time for practicing. With Dad.
googledThe kids have also been aware that, as the parental units (the apparent popular way to refer to one's parents these days) see driving privileges as a prize to be earned, the prize-winner would be contributing the required funds to attain the aforementioned prize. Definition: Mom and Dad aren't paying for the permit, classes, license, car, gas, repairs or insurance. If we needed the boys to drive, rules might be different, but convenience is the only reason I see them needing to drive for me, and that just isn't a big enough need.
Anyone who knows the boys at all can attest to the differences in their personalities. Preston is like his Dad - he enjoys his alone time. Bucky is like his Mom - he needs social contact frequently. Preston's pretty good at saving money. Bucky can save money temporarily. Preston likes to weigh the pros and cons. Bucky likes to figure it out as he goes.
Preston sees no purpose in spending all the money to get his license now, when he doesn't need to drive and has no car. His theory is "Why should I spend money when my parents take me wherever I need to go?" - that theory is fine, for now, because he doesn't need to go very far. Of course, once he actually needs to get a job, that will change, but his theory is workable for the time being.
Bucky, on the other hand...
...is not content to wait till he's 18 to get his license. The first step accomplished, he now holds his permit. Cost - $22.00
It will take him a while to save the money for classes. Last time I checked, the cost was over $300.00 and he's broke right now. He'll have plenty of time for practicing. With Dad.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Why DO All the Cows Have Udders in that Movie???
Having not come anywhere near mastering the art of ridding his body of waste products in a manner fit to be discussed in public, Little Mister D is none-the-less skillful in his defense of such problems.
Why, just this morning, as Mommy was changing his rather rankish behinder into something fresher, said Mommy oh-so-kindly stated "D, your butt smells like a barnyard."
D, not missing a beat - "I wike Barnwad. I git pig dare."
Yes, the speech has progressed nicely. Or not.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Fast Forward One Year
Had you told me this time last year that I would be buying diapers and bottles and potty seats and pink newborn outfits and size 7 Spiderman shoes and cribs and infant car seats and sippy cups and doorknob safety covers and all the other supplies that come with two babies, I would have laughed and said, "Whatever".
Had you told me that these two babies would be siblings born to a drug addicted mother who loves her children very much, I would have raised my eyebrows and said "Yeah, right!"
Had you told me that, aside from a speech delay that is now resolved, the 2 year old would be advanced in all areas of development, I would have asked for a second opinion.
Had you told me that the newborn would show absolutely no signs of drug addiction, I would have requested every available test be performed.
But...
Upstairs right now, sleeping safely in their beds, are two of the six most beautiful children ever born. They were not in our home this time last year. The mother who gave them life knows that she faces a very hard battle, and she hopes to overcome her addictions. Only time will tell if she is successful. She does not want her children spending that time without a permanent family to care for them. The father who created these children is rumored to feel the same way, but circumstances have not allowed that decision to be finalized yet.
During the past nine months, I have come to love these children just like I cherish the children I carried inside me for 9 months.
Tonight,
My little boy kissed everyone goodnight, took his Jo-Jo, his Chrissy Jo-Jo, his Big Blue, his Little Blue, and his Purple Monkey and walked upstairs with Daddy, where he prayed for happy dreams. Daddy tucked him under the covers, latched the gate so he won't escape downstairs to watch cartoons unsupervised, and left the room.
My baby girl snuggled into my arms with her bottle and her pink silky blankie and fell asleep as I rocked her. I carried her to her crib and covered her up with a blanket her brother Gabe gave her. She sighed, and I left the room.
Tomorrow morning,
My baby girl will giggle at me, show me her dimples, and reach to pinch my face when I pick her up from the bed. My little boy will stand at the gate calling "Mommy. I get up now. I waked up. I get Jo-Jo." until I come and release him from his confinement.
I will kiss them, because that's what Mommies do.
Had you told me that these two babies would be siblings born to a drug addicted mother who loves her children very much, I would have raised my eyebrows and said "Yeah, right!"
Had you told me that, aside from a speech delay that is now resolved, the 2 year old would be advanced in all areas of development, I would have asked for a second opinion.
Had you told me that the newborn would show absolutely no signs of drug addiction, I would have requested every available test be performed.
But...
Upstairs right now, sleeping safely in their beds, are two of the six most beautiful children ever born. They were not in our home this time last year. The mother who gave them life knows that she faces a very hard battle, and she hopes to overcome her addictions. Only time will tell if she is successful. She does not want her children spending that time without a permanent family to care for them. The father who created these children is rumored to feel the same way, but circumstances have not allowed that decision to be finalized yet.
During the past nine months, I have come to love these children just like I cherish the children I carried inside me for 9 months.
Tonight,
My little boy kissed everyone goodnight, took his Jo-Jo, his Chrissy Jo-Jo, his Big Blue, his Little Blue, and his Purple Monkey and walked upstairs with Daddy, where he prayed for happy dreams. Daddy tucked him under the covers, latched the gate so he won't escape downstairs to watch cartoons unsupervised, and left the room.
My baby girl snuggled into my arms with her bottle and her pink silky blankie and fell asleep as I rocked her. I carried her to her crib and covered her up with a blanket her brother Gabe gave her. She sighed, and I left the room.
Tomorrow morning,
My baby girl will giggle at me, show me her dimples, and reach to pinch my face when I pick her up from the bed. My little boy will stand at the gate calling "Mommy. I get up now. I waked up. I get Jo-Jo." until I come and release him from his confinement.
I will kiss them, because that's what Mommies do.
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