Stupid is as stupid does...

No, I'm not calling Annie stupid! Let's just clear that up right now! This is just the only real photo I have of one of the kids doing something ridiculous that's totally legal!

Why do people do stupid things? If people would stop doing stupid things, the "here's your sign" industry would go belly up! Tonight, though, I believe I'm the stupid one that deserves a sign stapled to my forehead.

Yeah, it's been a very long week. Yeah, the kids are all struggling. Grant wakes up screaming. Annie roams the house looking for Daddy and continues to say he's in TX or getting coffee. And then, there's Dasha. It's just so hard to know exactly how much of this situation Dasha understands. I do best when things are either right or wrong. No or yes. Up or down. Black or white. Dasha dwells in grays.

We've had test after test to determine her exact mental capabilities. Most of those tests show that she's capable of average intelligence but the problems come in the area of processing. Many times, this means that it takes her a whole lot longer to process directions you've given and sometimes she has to dwell on a concept for days before she suddenly has an "a-ha" moment. There have been NO "a-ha" moments this week for her!

Wednesday night was traumatic for everyone as final good-byes were made. However, in her efforts to process the emotions surrounding the situation, she got violent with me. What I didn't know then was that we were at the top of the roller coaster and it would just go down hill from there!

On Thursday, I got multiple reports of Dasha's antics at school. She'd lied, hidden work in her desk, gotten sassy and disrespectful with both a teacher and an administrator, and then continued on the same path with me at home. (Mind you, I'm not in a perfectly peachy state of mind either)! Despite her actions, we did our best to complete homework. We made it though a portion of the work and then realized that the directions for the huge project she was supposed to complete (it had been due Thursday but she didn't finish it) were back at school hidden in her desk somewhere.

Now, I'll admit to you that as this scenario unfolded, I was counting all of the animals I could think of in my head that eat their young and wondering what it would be like to be reincarnated as one of those animals. Annie was also in melt down mode which added a glorious melody to the entire house, as well. Grant was lucky to escape the scene for a bike clinic, at least. But, you get the picture of the bedlam that was suffocating the hours from 4:00 - 9:00 last night!

Back to Dasha, we eventually packed up her papers and simply called it a night. I still didn't have a grasp on what she'd done and not done but I knew I couldn't tolerate her attitude for another second. (Another on-going issue - Are the actions related to the traumatic events of the week, simply based on teenage hormones, her sensory overload issues, or a weird mix of everything - and, how do you disciple and deal with that mix)? She went to bed quickly and quietly without too much fuss and I was grateful for that!

Then, as if a scene from Groundhog Day, it all started again with the alarm clock buzzing me awake! The only difference today, though, was that Dasha landed herself a coveted spot in in-school suspension and still didn't finish her work. In order to spare you the details of the remainder of my day, I'll skip to 5:00.

We finally made it home and I got dinner on the table. I'd already decided that I was going to be proactive with Dasha's work for next week and we'd get some of it done this weekend. I set her up at the dining room table and helped her get her things organized so she could start task number one of Operation Don't Eat the Children weekend! She completed next week's spelling in record time. It was the wrong list of words but, hey, she was compliant. Then, the whining began. It started like a dull roar similar to tire noise when you're inside a luxury car with the windows rolled up. Then, it got louder. (Think Blue Angels doing a fly-by over your house). Mind you, I was doing my best to leave her alone and let her express her disgruntled comments in solitude. Then I heard it. I knew the sound of the chair hitting the wall (my newly painted walls for that matter). By the time I rounded the corner into the dining room, I know I'd counted to ten at least ten times but it wasn't working.

Her excuse, "I'm just tired and don't want to do hard work. I don't like it." I calmly tried to reason with her and explain to her all of the events in my life that are hard work and don't really make me jump for joy and painted her a picture of what life would look like for us if I didn't do those hard things. I don't think she cared or understood because the chair to her other side suddenly flipped over, too. (I'm still pretty sure that her foot had something to do with it)!

At this point, my mind raced as to what my next move should be. Should I overlook her sheer defiance and seeming anger and just coddle her and tell her things will get easier? (I sure as heck wish someone would do that for me right now)! Should I send her to bed and ultimately give her want she wanted? I needed a win - win situation of some sort but as I frantically sorted through all of the dusty files of Cosby show reruns in my head, I couldn't seem to figure out what creative move Heathcliff Huxtable would have made. I could think of what Hank Hill, Homer Simpson, and Ward Cleaver would have done but I drew a blank about something reasonable. I just walked away... until the next chair crashed into the wall.

I hoisted her over my shoulder, carried her out the front door, sat her on the porch, and went back inside. Don't panic! I could clearly see every move she made from the window (and where in the world did she learn some of those motions?)! She needed a brain reset and I needed a second to remind myself that I'm the only adult on duty so I can't go for broke on her behavior because I might not have anything left to spend if one of the others tries something stupid!

She sat there for less than two minutes before I opened the door. (OK, I admit, I was terrified that our crazy neighbor was going to stumble out of her house in a drunken stupor and question my motives of putting one of my kids on the porch in the dark)! We had a very interesting discussion while she sat on the porch in her pjs and I stood there in the doorway (I am very glad that I'd put on semi-presentable pjs, too! I'm sure our neighbors already had quite a show)! When I asked Dasha to explain to me why I was so upset, she looked up and simply said, "Because you're the mom." Insert knife in my heart, twist, and repeat! Really? Is that how she feels? I did regroup quickly enough to carry on a reasonable conversation with her and explain to her that in order to re-enter my house, she'd have to follow my rules, and basically gave her a mom speech but my heart was still aching.

So, now that everyone is in bed for the night, I'm left to ponder this. Does she really think that the only emotion I can show is negative? Yeah, I've been under a lot of stress and I'm emotionally drained and ducking flying dining room chairs isn't my idea of a stellar after dinner workout but what's going on in her mind?

I didn't think she really understood the permanency of the situation but I didn't think it was something she was dwelling on, either. So, I now have one child who thinks he's supposed to be the man of the house, one that is lost in an emotional abyss, and one who roams the house looking for the most precious "possession" she had and can't find it. I'm simply outnumbered and overwhelmed.

I saw a sign today that said, "Life begins at the edge of your comfort zone." All I can say is that I must really be living large right now because my comfort zone is so far behind me that I can't even remember it!

For tonight, I'm heading to bed to find some crazy Hulu sitcom to take my mind off of this mess. I'm sure Annie will not understand the "Do Not Disturb" sign if I put it on the door and she'll still demand to be let out of her cage at 6 a.m. sharp for breakfast! Ugh!

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Exposing yourself...

In my pursuit to at least write something on this page every day, I fear that I must write the truth tonight. It's not funny and it's not too interesting but it's my life today.

Up until the last few weeks, I felt like I'd been a very private person. There were very few folks that I let enter my sacred personal bubble. I'm just not keen of having lots of people in my business.

Then, we changed small groups. As is the SOP when forming a new group, each person is supposed to share their personal journey story with the group. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know that in laying all of your dirty laundry out for others to see you open yourself up to be a more integral part of the group and everyone bonds more quickly. We didn't hide any truths. That was the first time we'd hung the dirty laundry out for everyone to see outside the realm of a counselor's office. He went first and then I followed. There was silence. I'm mean, what do you say when someone just dumped their dirty unmentionables out in the floor for all to see? High fiving is definitely out of the question. Awkward silence isn't much better. I really don't remember what happened after the laundry basket had been up-turned. I think I've purposely blanked that moment out just as mothers blot out the pain of child birth and somehow look back and say, "That wasn't all that bad. Let's try for another baby!"

At least we had each other to lean on, though. We'd just exposed ourselves to an entire group (six other couples). It was full Monty style stuff!

Today, I had to do it alone. Venerable doesn't even begin to touch the feelings I had sitting in the lawyer's office. My heart kept telling me to run away as fast as I could but my brain somehow kept my butt planted in that cushy chair. (Maybe that's why I'm feeling brain dead tonight! Keeping my butt planted is a big job for one little brain)!!! Anyway, the lawyer ask dirty details. Details that I didn't want to share. She made comments that I really didn't want to hear. She drew conclusions and compared things that weren't necessary. What motivates folks to go into family law? Who would want to deal with this kind of stuff on a daily basis. I'm convinced that the little old lady sitting behind that enormous desk was a step-child of the Grinch. Questions, questions, and more questions. Questions that I didn't feel she needed to know followed by comments that my heart told me were untruths. I'm not after venegence but her heart seemed to be motivated by only that.

Have you ever heard someone say that before giving a speech, you should just picture everyone in the audience naked and you'll feel less nervous? (OK, first of all, if I did that, I'd end up bursting out laughing hysterically because I'd imagine some weird-0 with an anatomical defect sitting right in the front row OR I'd envision it as a scene from the old Coocoon movie with old hangy dangly body parts drooping all over the place and I'd puke right there on stage)! Anyway, I felt like I was the naked one sitting there today. Personal business that no stranger should know or ask about, all being pulled from the laundry basket. I admit that I didn't dump the basket out eagerly or even let the laundry slide out slowly. I gingerly took out the most obvious pieces such as the socks and jeans and handed those over first. By the time this lady was asking for the undies, I was ready to bolt.

I have decisions to make. Decisions I NEVER thought I'd be faced with. Decisions I'm not prepared to make. Do I use Clorox and bleach everything to a institutionalized white or do I use the Dreft or Ivory and the gentle cycle and just hope the dirt gets washed away without destroying the garments? Ugh! As I said yesterday, I'm weary. I'm weary of decisions. Weary of dirty laundry. Weary of not only having to expose myself but of having to listen to others' renditions of how it all happened while I sit there naked. (Have you ever had an OB/GYN appointment and they left you sitting in the exam room for an extended period of time with nothing but that fancy little paper shirt on? That's what I felt like and the shirt was definitely way too small)!

Tonight, I will rest with a very heavy heart but I will rest knowing that God knows how many hairs are on my head. (He's probably had to start an Excel file to keep up with the gray ones) but He even knows when a tiny sparrow falls to the ground but He deems me even more important . As I was reading last night (my new lullaby is to read myself to sleep), I ran across this in a blog that I really like. http://www.backtothebible.org/index.php/Gateway-to-Joy/When-the-Sparrow-Falls.html Although I know what's written is truth, but it's a very big task to put to understanding right now! I feel like a sparrow that's in some sort of digitally altered fall which just keeps going and going and going.

A naked and exposed sparrow hurling toward the ground at terminal velocity.

I know that's not the truth but in my weary and feeble mind tonight, as the kids are upstairs sleeping and the house looks like an atomic bomb was dropped (heck, it looks like a bomber squad flew over and dropped a whole arsenal of bombs), I will head upstairs to MY bedroom where one side of the closet is completely empty and one side of the bed is still neatly made up and crawl under the covers to sleep this off alone!

Luke 12:7 (New International Version, © 2011)
⁷ Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Run and not grow weary...

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

So, today, I had to attend a workshop about error analysis in math. (Notice that I said that I HAD to attend it). I entered the high school's ROTC room where the meeting was to be held at 7:45 this morning. Other ladies piled in the room, as well. And then, the boredom began. The speaker was a very respected mathematician from Chicago with an extremely dry sense of humor (think Three Stooges on Benadryl and alcohol). Over the period of six hours, this guy went through all 176 pages of his instructional book. The biggest take-aways I had from the meeting were facts such as the ROTC room had 14 light covers and each cover held 3 bulbs. The bricks on the wall outside of the window in that room repeat every 7th row. Instead of starting the tiled floor in the middle (like you're supposed to) and cutting the tiles around the edges, the builders started the tiles at the front of the room and cut the row at the back. And, wait, here's the biggest A-Ha moment of my day, I could get a cell signal in the ROTC room but not in bathroom stalls three or four in the 100 hallway. Get my point? (I sure hope county brass doesn't read this but, geez! If you're going to present, learn to talk to your audience and keep them from feeling like they need to play iPhone games to keep themselves awake)! Back to the point, it was a long boring day. The highlight, beyond knowing the repeating pattern of the bricks, was going to Publix for lunch to grab a sandwich! Whoo-hoo! People who work in corporate America really take for granted being able to escape for lunch or run an errand on your lunch break. That doesn't happen for teachers! You never know who's going to puke or eat something they're allergic to or even which kid might decide to test out that cool trick they saw on some show the night before which involves a plastic fork, grapes, and mashed potatoes!

Why am I rambling on about all of this? Because I'm tired. Boredom tires me out faster than manual labor! However, I'm not just normal tired. I find that I'm getting weary! I'm weary of emotions and difficult conversations. I'm weary of folks knowing more than I want them to know. I'm weary of trying to explain things. I'm weary of trying to compromise and work things out. I'm weary of trying to figure things out. I'm weary of replaying where and why things went wrong. I'm weary of never knowing what normal is! (Yeah, I know. Abnormal is the only normal). I'm just plain old weary.

So, after a day of listening to the male version of Charlie Brown's teacher, I went back to my school to put in some extra hours that we have to make up for all of those blasted ice days! As I drove home, I realized that today was the last day (maybe for forever) that I'd be able to say that my husband had picked the kids up in order to help me keep all of my commitments. That one thought made my "weary meter" skyrocket just like one of those cartoons where the character hits the lever with the mallet and sends the little button zinging up and off of the scale and into orbit! There won't be any more coming home to gourmet home cooked meals like the one I came home to tonight complete with steak, rice, and green beans with peas. The kids will be lucky to get Cheerios by candle light on those extra special nights instead of a Lunchable. I won't come home to neat piles of laundry folded on the bed and ready to put away like I did tonight. We'll be back to digging clean clothes out of a laundry basket in the hallway. And, beyond all of the misery, the kids won't be able to come home to daddy in the office with his music turned up and three computer monitors all jumping with different data. This doesn't even touch bedtime routines when Annie asks for Daddy to take off his glasses and blow on her tummy or Grant sharing some rude YouTube video joke before lights out or Dasha asking one of those questions that only she can ask. Weary doesn't even begin to touch the feelings that mount inside of me when I think about trying to fill all of these jobs.

However, as I finish reading the Love Dare book (why not, what do I have to lose?), Isaiah 40:31 was the key scripture. It's moments like this that make me realize that God know my every whine, my every fear, my every thought (good and bad) and is still making provisions for me. So, tonight as I head to bed (after I get those neat little piles of laundry off of the bed - sorry Eric, I'm sure they'll get put away tomorrow :)), I will rest in knowing that even as I begin to grow weary and feel the weight of everything pressing in on me, He will carry me (and the rest of my family who are all feeling this same stress right now).

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

My goal for the next month is to post at least something to the blog each night. Reading back through the trials I've blogged about and then seeing how provisions have been made to see me to the other side encourage me to keep pressing on. Hopefully, in a month, I'll be able to read back over these blogs and see that I've fought a good fight and am soaring with wings like an eagle!

A day in the life...

6:30 Mama, open door! Mama, I hungee. Need milk.

6:35 I give up and go get her. I plop her in my bed and que up some Leapster Learning show on Netflix. It's educational, right? I just want another 25 minutes of sleep.

6:45 Mama, what doing? Mama, want milk!

6:46 I give up and move the party downstairs for milk and grits. I check emails and wash up last night's dishes while the princess finishes her breakfast.

7:00 Back upstairs to start a load of laundry. By this time, Dasha is up and plays with Annie long enough for me to round up laundry and get a load started.

7:15 Dasha heads downstairs to get some breakfast while I play dolls (and weed through the winter clothing that'll be too small by next year only to realize that Annie doesn't have any summer clothes)!

7:30 Dasha comes back upstairs so I can at least go brush my teeth. We're heading to my sister's baby shower at 11 so I have to start getting ready NOW if we're to make it on time!

7:32 I can't piece together an outfit for Dasha to wear to the baby shower so I decide to cut off a pair of her jeans and make them capris. I get that accomplished and realize that I never brushed my teeth!

8:00 I hear Annie outside my door saying, "Need that! Need that!" She was perched on a toy and hanging from the rickety ironing board (with the iron still sitting on it) trying to get the scissors from my hack job on Dasha's jeans. Mental note to self, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

8:33 Back downstairs to play kitchen. However, Annie decides she wants more milk - except Dasha used the last of it for her cereal. Now, Annie hangs from the refrigerator handle screaming, "Need milk, need milk, need milk."

8:45 Grant gets an invitation to go with Grandpa instead of go to the shower but Grandpa is on his way to pick him up NOW!

8: 46 I jump in the shower and beg Grant to watch Annie just long enough for me to actually shave my legs and wash my hair! Half way through the first leg, Grant bangs on the door and proclaims that Grandpa was there and ready to go. Grrrr.... Annie is then invited into the bathroom with me where I end up having to leave the shower door open in order to supervise her. Crap. No shaving the other leg.

8:50 Annie decides to change her own diaper by removing the poo filled one and leaving it on the carpeted floor and runs her naked butt down the hall leaving a trail.

9:00 Put my pjs back on when I realize that the outfit I was going to wear never made it out of the washer earlier.

From 9:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m., I will admit that I threw one box of gummies at the wall, turned the radio up to drown out a screaming child (who only wanted to be unstrapped from the car seat and sit in the back with her sister), and had an excessive amount of ugly thoughts, and even neglected to lay everyone's clothes out for church so I could avoid doing this drama again this morning (although we kept to nearly the same schedule). However, I do have to make note that while at the baby shower, my aunt handed over a box with enough Annie sized clothes to get her through the next year of her life. Hmmm.... some times prayers are answered despite our own stupidity!

Basically, you get the picture. I've had so many folks say, "I just always thought you had a perfect life!" Well, let me let you in on a secret. You might be surprised to find out that if humans are involved, it ain't gonna be perfect! The last two weeks have been the hardest weeks of my entire life. And, if you don't know, I've watched a child die, buried her, adopted over-seas, and been on a marriage roller coaster but the last two weeks top it!

There are a few things that remain unchanged, though. 1) Agape love is unconditional and eternal. I saw a quote today that read something like, "Jesus isn't looking to crush the heart that's strayed. He's waiting to rejoice over the heart that's come back!" 2) I have awesome kids and friends. You never know who your real friend are until the crap hits the fan and you need to be bailed out without question or condemnation. 3) Too many Christians are willing to stone others. Yes, there is a definite call for accountability and adherence to Biblical principles but we are also called to love.

With that being said, NO, my life is far from perfect right now. I'm praying for brighter days but in the meantime, I'm resting in Galatians 6:2-5. "Carry each others burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves. Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load."

I purposely didn't publish this post for a few days. I just wanted to think I was in a nightmare and going to wake up. But, now, as I stare at the phrase, "Plaintiff respectfully shows that the Parties hereto have made diligent and sincere attempts to reconcile their differences and preserve this marriage; however, there exists no possible hope or prospect for reconciliation between the Plaintiff and Defendant," I guess I have to admit what my brain kept telling me but my heart didn't wouldn't consider. And, by the way, I'd like to meet the very sad person who wrote this crap! They obviously never were in love and knew what it felt like to be brought to your knees together over one circumstance but brush each other off and pull each other up to climb the next mountain. Blah!

Pop Goes the Weasel!

OK - So, I've managed to be very serious and reverent for the last two posts. Today, I don't have it in me! It was one of THOSE days! One child was and is barking like a dog and screaming that she does not want her nose because it's running, one was cleaning counters with vegetable cleaner (her heart was in the right place), and the other was trying to micromanage the house and be 80 years old! I love them all dearly but there are some days when Calgon just won't cut it!

When I woke up (ok, when I was awakened by a child screaming, "Need milk! Need grits! Need get out!), I had quite a list of things to get accomplished. By 10:00 a.m., I had cut the grass, painted the foyer and most of the kitchen, and sewn one of my new dining room curtains. I was feeling like a champion.

Then, I'm not sure what happened. As I went to hang the curtain up, I realized I needed a Phillips head screw driver. Hmmmm..... Using a Boy Scout knife / screw driver just doesn't work. I left the big kids home with a list of chores and Annie and I ran to WalMart to get a screwdriver so I could begin making progress and move past my seeming road block. However, as I looked at the endless choices of screwdrivers, I diverted my attention from Annie for a few seconds. She quickly unbuckled herself from the buggy and jumped out. Seriously? Although she didn't even make it past my legs, it was enough to rattle me back into my funk. We made it home with the screwdriver to find the big kids trying to kill each other over trivial things.

Despite the big kids waging war in the background, I started to get excited because I thought I was about to see the curtain which I've been working on for a week hanging proudly over the window. WRONG! The screwdriver I'd chosen wouldn't fit through the tiny hole in the bracket and, therefore, wouldn't even reach the screw.

Currently, the curtain (still impaled with the curtain rod) is laying in the dining room floor where it might just stay until next weekend! When I started psychoanalyzing the whole scenario (I only allow me to analyze me for safety's sake - can you imagine what a real analysis would say?), I was again reminded of the multitude of projects that I seem to start but never find time to finish. It just aggravates me! Who knows why! (I think a professional would advise me to blame my parents but I'm not sure that's really the case)! Anyway, the project is still unfinished and laying crumpled up in the floor. Tomorrow, however, I will conquer that darn curtain rod (after buying another screwdriver) and mark that 1/2 of the project off of the list. (I still have the 2nd curtain to make and hang. We may only have one window covered for quite a while)!!!

It's now 1 a.m. and I've yet to put out bunny baskets or even check to see if I have anything proper to wear to church in the morning. However, I can assure you that if you hear a news story about a maniac losing her mind in the hardware section of WalMart over a screw driver, it'll be me!

If my last unfinished project was to write a children's song and I needed to get it done tonight, I'd probably produce something like Rock-a-bye Baby or Pop Goes the Weasel!

The monkey thought twas all in fun and POP goes the weasel!!!

(I'm afraid to hit "post" at this time because this is one of those pieces that I'm going to look back at and wonder what in the world I was thinking posting this kind of nutzy stuff for the world to see)!

Good Friday and other random thoughts...

In my effort to remind the kids about the importance of Good Friday, I tried reading a book about the "Easter Story" to Annie. She continued to bounce around and insist that the picture of Jesus in the book was actually "Ho-Ho" (her version of Santa). After several attempts to get through at least looking at the pictures, I gave up. Then, life kept happening and I never got around to going through the relevance of the day with Grant and Dasha. I've felt defeated about it ever since they dropped into their beds hours ago. However, for some strange reason, my mind drew a parallel between how frustrated God must have felt with His children when they wouldn't listen and acknowledge Him. Despite His frustration, He still provided the ultimate gift to those children. What would life be like today if He'd just given up as I did with Annie? I can imagine that civilization sure wouldn't be like we know it today. It's so easy to think about the Easter Story as it's portrayed in children's story books and in cartoons. But this was real stuff that still impacts us today. I can not begin to imagine giving my only son, Grant, in order for a bunch of ungrateful people to have life ever-lasting. I just can't fathom that sort of emotion. However, when that sacrifice was made, it was made directly for me. Those thousands of years ago, God knew exactly where I'd be today and the struggles I'd be engaged in. He knew how many hairs would be on my head (and how many were now missing or gray). He paid that kind of price for me.

So, while the stores are filled with cute little rabbits, eggs, and baskets this season, I want to remember what this weekend really means. And, doggone it, I want my children to remember, as well!

So, the book is laying on the table. I will read the book to every child in this house tomorrow and we will engage in a conversation about it that does not include the words Ho-Ho or Santa. If you call and I don't answer, assume I'm reading the book and have taken captives!

On an entirely different note, after yesterday's post about Thankful Thursday, I've found that Friday has also brought so many reasons to be thankful for! In the last 24 hours, I've had four friends (two which I haven't seen in years) meet needs in my life before I even knew they existed! These are the kinds of friends you'd call from jail who would gladly bail you out without even asking what you'd done. (In my case, they could probably make some pretty good assumptions, though). My heart has been overwhelmed all day long with gratitude and thankfulness. There have been so many other petitions met today, as well, that I hope I'll have the opportunity to share one day. It's been a good day full of thankfulness for the faithfulness of friends, the ability to recognize the sacrificial gift that was given on my behalf thousands of years ago, and the ability to be completely at peace with prayers that have been answered with a "wait patiently." (If you know me, patience is not my strong suit and waiting isn't very far up my list of accomplishments, either)!

In closing, I hope everyone can take time this weekend to walk with their children through history and look at the resurrection story and help them see how relevant those events are to our lives today. For those with older kids, introduce them to the historical ideas of death by hanging and the physical impact on the body. Teach them about how they performed burials in rocky hillsides. Show them the reality of the "story." We get so used to the squeaky clean version of the story complete with singing vegetables or characters that burst into song that we forget to teach the reality and show how the "stories" from the Bible align with ancient civilizations. Give a child this kind of foundation and it makes it much easier for them to believe. (We love the Story of the World series by Susan Wise Bauer).

OK, I'll get off of my soapbox for the night. I hope everyone has a great weekend and finds time to put the eggs aside and put the bunny back in it's cage to remember what we're really celebrating.

Thankful Thursday

Many of the blogs that I follow host Thankful Thursdays. Each Thursday, the author writes about the little things they are thankful for from the previous week. I'd been meaning to do this for months but never got around to it. However, today, it's such a coincidence that it's Thursday and I've found a bunch of little things that I was thankful but never even realized it. So, here's my own version of Thankful Thursday...

1) Hearing Annie yell, "No brudder. Don't do that!" The girl doesn't back down from a good fight! I'm not always sure how to parent this and where to draw the boundaries but it makes for some pretty darn good entertainment!

2) Listening to Annie and Dasha play "kitchen" over the baby monitor. They sound like two little old ladies bearing their souls while whipping up some delectable home-cooked meal.

3) Watching Grant turn into a young man right before my eyes! He never ceases to amaze me with his abilities to accurately sense someone's feelings and intervene on their behalf. Tonight, he decided on dinner, cooked it, and served his sisters while I dealt with a half dozen other crazy things. Grant has such a tender heart but is so willing to let God use him even if it means risking getting his feelings hurt.

4) Having a stockpile of toilet paper, canned goods, light bulbs, paper products, and trash bags without ever thinking about it. I didn't realize what a blessing this was until today when there weren't any more green beans in the cabinet.

5) Knowing the front door is locked. Seriously? I've never had to put much thought into this because I've never been responsible for it. Last night, the wind from the storm blew the front door open and scare the crud out of me. Hmmm.... I guess I forgot to lock it! You can bet it's locked tonight, though!

6) Working with a team of ladies who always have my back. I don't think I've ever really thanked them for that. But, without any questions, all of them come to the rescue and do whatever is needed (tying children up, making copies, covering bathroom / sanity breaks, etc.). I can't imagine having to go to work with folks you didn't like.

7) Having a Mr. Fixit on hand. Nothing ever implodes or explodes until there's no one around to fix it. (Just FYI, if you move the washing machine, make sure the hoses go with the machine or you'll end up with a mess)! I didn't realize what a big deal this was, either, and really never said, "Thanks."

8) Having a baby sitter that Annie runs to every morning. I'd never used child care beyond my parents until last November. Today, when I showed up to get Annie, I could see through the door window. Fatima and Annie were dancing around like little pixies. I'd venture to say that there aren't too many sitters who'd play like that with a toddler.

9) Feelings. Although I'm on a roller coaster right now, my feelings are a great indicator of what's going on in my heart. I guess, to be more specific, I'm thankful for the Holy Spirit's convictions in my heart. Those convictions aren't always easy to deal with and many times my brain wants to doubt but those feelings are undeniable.

10) This one, I'm leaving blank for now for an unanswered prayer. But, I now have a record right here in this blog that I'll be able to look back at and, hopefully, be thankful about however that prayer is answered. (I keep hearing the lyrics for a Garth song - Unanswered Prayers). :)

OK. That wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. However, it's funny how the smallest things make us suddenly realize how thankful we are. My big "A-ha" moment about being thankful came tonight when I realized that the back of the toilet was devoid of the extra roll that is normally stashed there. Eric was a TP fanatic so he always kept a few rolls "on deck." I'd never said, "Thanks," or even realized how grateful I was for that toilet paper!

So, if this is Thankful Thursday, I sure hope tomorrow isn't Freaky Friday! There's one more day of CRCT testing to struggle through and I just hope we make it. I can promise that I don't need any freakiness during testing! At one point this morning, I looked up and about swore that I was in some sort of mental facility! One kid had his hoodie up over his head pulling the zipper up and down repeatedly. Another kid was drumming on his desk with pencils. One child used a Kleenex to contruct a very elaborate jelly fish using his pencil (I admit that I was impressed). And, I never realized that there are about 500 yoga poses that you can do while "seated" in a small plastic student chair! I did giggle out loud when the combination of the boredom driven activities overwhelmed me! But, once again, I could add this as number 11 to my list - my students. I have an awesome bunch of kids this year who all work together as a team (most times) and are accepting of everyone. I love it that they are familiar enough with me to tell me hilarious stories and jokes and keep me entertained but understand when it's time to settle in and work hard! Man!

See, I have so much to be thankful for! (This is a much different outlook than I had last night). Thanks to an old friend that I literally ran into today in WalMart who opened my eyes and my heart to receive the many blessing that I do have in my life!

This song makes me keep it all in perspective and see just how blessed I really am - even when the roller coaster seems to be doing the same loop for the 6th time and I feel like I'm about the lose my lunch!

Arms that Hold the Universe / 33 Miles and Fee
I know it seems like this could be
The darkest day you've known
But believe you me
The God of strength will never let you go
He will overcome, I know

And the arms that hold the universe
Are holding you tonight
You can rest inside
It's gonna be alright

And the voice that calmed the raging sea
Is calling you His child
So be still and know He's in control
He will never let you go

Through many dangers, toils and snares
You have already come
His grace has brought you safe this far
His grace will lead you home

And the arms that hold the universe
Are holding you tonight
You can rest inside
It's gonna be alright

And the voice that calmed the raging sea
Is calling you His child
So be still and know He's in control
He will never let you go

You can hope, you can rise, you can stand
He's still got the whole world in His hands
You can hope, you can rise, you can stand
He's still got the whole world
The whole world in His hands

And the arms that hold the universe
Are holding you tonight
You can rest inside
It's gonna be alright

And the voice that calmed the raging sea
Is calling you His child
So be still and know He's in control
He will never let you go
He will never let you go

He's still got the whole world in His hands
Still got the whole world in His hands

The End of this Season of My Life

There are so many why's but more than that, there are three beautiful kids and enough love and grace for us all. Good-bye old life.

I'm too sexy for my... hair bows... ???

Sometimes random realizations are startling but very profound! This weekend, I had one of those realizations. (Please note - if you're going to be offended by the word S E X Y, close this window now and go back to watching Sesame Street)!

When we were teenagers, we always thought of the hunky men as the ones with the big muscles and gleaming smiles. We really didn't care too much about their skills beyond looking good for the camera. However, as time has marched on for me, I had the realization that those hunks with six pack abs aren't really all that interesting anymore. I find myself wondering if those cheesy guys could change a diaper that looks as if an atomic bomb went off and propelled the contents to the extreme edges of reasonable! Could he fish Hot Wheels cars from the toilet without having to call the plumber? Could Mr. Hunky apply diaper rash medicine without getting grossed out? Probably not. Those hunks would probably get a big fat F in common sense and childcare!

Over the last eleven years, I've seen Eric change diapers, get puked on, pooped on, and peed on! I'm sure it really wouldn't make him feel much better but those are all pretty sexy things for a man to endure in the name of maintaining home life! Simply taking the kids to the park and allowing me thirty minutes to sit alone and stare at the darkness creeping over our house (also known as the toy takeover) goes way beyond what any super model could do despite the name brand stitched on their undies. (Mind you, I never try to battle this darkness in these moments of silence but I do love to sit and just be amazed at how much of the house I've lost to the darkness)! Anyway, as I get older, I realize that those commercials with Fabio riding up on a white horse with his long flowing hair to deliver I Can't Believe It's Not Butter to some helpless maiden just don't do it for me anymore! I'm mean, come on! Just let Mr. Buttered Buns Fabio try to get a wet toddler into pjs with toothpick-sized arms and see how appreciative he'd be of that long hair! He'd wish he had a pony-tail holder to get that mess out of his face! However, you let some man with an old t-shirt that's wet up to the elbows from the baby's bath water who is in need of a shave and hair cut successfully and lovingly dress a wriggling toddler (after applying the correct lotion and other essential products) and then snuggle that baby up close to him, you'd have the majority of the 30+ women hunting him down and hanging his poster on the back of their closet door!

It was this weekend as we were climbing from the minivan (oh, excuse me, the Man Van - sounds much less suburbanite and more masculine) after church to grab a bite to eat that I had one of these sudden realizations. Annie had fussed the entire way to the restaurant and kicked both of her shoes off, pulled her socks off, AND yanked her bow out of her hair. She simply wanted to go home and have a nap. She didn't have any need for a sit down meal. However, Eric calmly got her shoes and socks back on and then reached for the white frilly hair bow. I half way expected him to look at it, laugh, and then throw it back in the floor of the van with the other remnants of outfits gone awry. However, he carefully took the bow and put it back in Annie's hair. It just about brought tears to my eyes. It was so un-manly but at the same time so... WOW!

Like I said, it was just one of those random realizations but it was in that moment I realized that Fabio could take his fake butter and peddle it to the younger crowd! My man can change a poopy diaper, administer Tylenol to a cranky baby, shop for unmentionables with a daughter, and have spit-up running down his back but I'll take him over Fabio any day of the week!

Here's to my hubby who is way too sexy for Annie's hair bows but doesn't mind and neither do I!

My child would never do that!

Every parent wants to believe that their child would never do anything that would be considered "bad." However, most of us are aware and would admit that this ability to do the unthinkable is pre-wired in every single child! I've watched my own children on numerous occasions purposefully defy the rules of house and do ridiculous things! I absolutely know that children have a will of their own and can choose between right and wrong. Now, sometimes, they truly don't have enough information or maturity to cognitively think, "Hmmmm... Which choice am I going to make?" But there are those decisions that transcend any doubt and are just blatant acts of definace.

Even with most of the known world ready to admit that children can make bad choices on their own, I always hesitate when I have to call a student's parent and tell them about some choice that little Johnny made that wasn't so wise. So many phone calls begin with, "Mrs. Soandso, I have Johnny standing here with me and he has made a choice today that I'm really sad about." Then, I put Johnny on the phone and he confesses to whatever sin has occurred. (Remember, I teach 3rd grade so we're normally dealing with being disrespectful or forgetting homework for the hundredth time)! Then, Johnny takes the phone and gets teary eyed and blurts out, "I'm sorry mom! I won't do it again!" I'm never sure what transpires between that statement and moments later when Johnny is sent back to class and I take the receiver again. By this time, Mrs. Soandso usually has an arsenal of excuses about Johnny's behavior. Believe me, I've heard just about every line in the book! (And these are usually very sane and reasonable parents)!

As a parent, we just never want to believe that our child has done something ridiculous! We want someone or something else to blame it on!

I just fell prey to this whole delusion and landed flat on my butt!

Almost on a daily basis, teachers come and tell me about Dasha's exploits throughout the day. I'm rarely surprised by the things she does. Annie's baby sitter tells me about the wild things that she does throughout the day and I'm never surprised on that account, either! Both of our girls are free-spirited and need very clear boundaries. When that doesn't happen, they'll both try to get away with murder. Grant, on the other hand, has never been in major trouble since his preschool debut when he bit another child on the tush! (I still have the note the teacher sent home and I plan to frame it and give it to his wife one day)! However, Grant has just always hated conflict and stayed away from any major calamities. Yes, we have the normal "clean your room" and "stop pestering the girls" battles but nothing crazy and definitely nothing with anyone other than family. In fact, his teachers sing his praises and think he's nearly perfect! I guess I did to and I'd completely forgotten that he's and eleven-year-old boy! (I'm hearing the Jaws theme music in the background now)!

Several weeks ago, Eric upgraded his iPhone to the newer version. (Not a big surprise for most folks. He's a techno-nerd)! So, we decided to keep his old phone activated and let Grant use it. It was great to be able to text Grant when we were out and make sure that the girls had not tied the sitter up and set the house on fire! And, yes, of course, we'd talked with him about appropriate usage of the phone and blocked most of the apps and websites. We thought we were getting the best of both worlds. (Ugh, the Jaws music just changed to Hannah Montana! - It's a joke you wouldn't understand unless you have a preteen girl)! :) Anyway, the phone situation seemed to be working out. However, when Eric and I returned home last night, Grant told us that his phone wasn't working and that he'd tried to plug it in to charge it but nothing happened. We were all tired to I put the phone to the side and told him we'd deal with it in the morning.

This morning, while waiting for everyone to get ready for church, Eric hooked the phone up to the computer to sync it. (I'm still not sure what the problem was. I never even thought to ask). However, Grant's text messages came up. Eric started scrolling through a conversation that Grant had been having with a classmate. As I looked over Eric's shoulder, I learned that Grant has a "girlfriend" and then I saw the mother of all bad words right there on the screen! I immediately asked Eric if he could block this classmate so he couldn't text Grant anymore. Eric went back to working on the phone and I went on to get breakfast ready. As I rushed around, I patted Grant on the back and asked him if that classmate always used vulgar language. He proceeded to tell me that he did and that he was a real monster. (I didn't ask about the girlfriend thing because I was still too shocked)!

I walked back into the office and for some reason looked over Eric's should again at the text log and it suddenly dawned on me that it wasn't the other kid that had used the rotten language, it was my own son! What? OK, if you know me well, you know that I'm prone to say an ugly word if I slam my hand in the door or smack my head on a hard blunt object. (This is something that I'm not proud of but I'll admit that it's an area that I need to work on)! But, I've sure never uttered that combination of words! In that instant, I felt like a million and one emotions sailed through my head. Disappointment was the biggest feeling that was surging but I was also so aggravated at myself for not even thinking that my son was capable of texting such filth. I was no better than Mrs. Soandso who believed that little Johnny must have been tricked into making a bad choice! (Yeah, I even thought to ask Grant if he had a good reason for his language! Duh! There's never been a good reason to use vulgar language)!

As I struggled to wrap my mind around this, Eric continued to sit at his desk. Somehow, he's always able to see the big picture and know what to do! He wasn't mad or frantic like I was. He just continued to sit calmly. (I wanted him to get his butt out of that chair and go strangle HIS son but I kept my thoughts to myself)!

When I deal with issuing consequences of any kind, I want them to be meaningful and befit the crime. In my mind, the master of constructing these kinds of consequences was Heathcliff Huxtable (Bill Cosby). When Theo or one of the girls did something stupid, Cliff always managed to create a consequence that was meaningful and that would certainly never be forgotten. So, I began to think, "What would Claire and Cliff do?"

After a quick chat with Eric (still seated at his desk), we decided not to say anything to Grant until after church. Then, as Eric got ready to run some errands, he calmly told Grant that he was disappointed about the text and explained to him that we all have choices to make. Those choices can be easily influenced by those around us. (Eric is also a VERY good enforcer / explain-er. I'm convinced that he could use his smooth calm to convince warring nations to cease their fighting and play nice)! Anyway, we asked Grant to write a note to the mother of the child he was texting. I don't know if this will have the effect that we want to get but I'm sure he at least knows where we stand on the issue now. (Not that he didn't know before! It's that darn peer pressure that you assume will never get to your child)!

Bottom line, today, I realized that ALL of my children are capable of making stupid choices. However, it's our job to help direct their path. Sometimes, the path seems to be straight and the kids walk down it like a hog following a truck full of slop. Other times, I feel like we're trying to coerce donkeys down and around a rocky mountain trail! Heaven help us! I do know that we've been given this opportunity to help teach and refine our children and raise them up to be able to discern right from wrong and make the right choices. That job seems to get tougher and tougher each year, though!

So, for this time in my life, I guess you can just call me Mrs. Soandso until I come to the full realization that my children are NORMAL and will do normal things like test limits and try to be cool.

Please note - I still can't believe that I'm about to hit PUBLISH and open this up for the world to see. So, if you read this now and then go back for another laugh later and find this post is missing, just understand that I probably came to my senses and deleted it!

The Season of Play-Doh

Do you remember this contraption? I know I had one and Grant had one until I outlawed Play-Doh in the house. (Play-Doh is a treat for Grandma's house or some other unsuspecting neighbor)! To use this toy, you take a ball of Play-Doh and mush it into a ball. Then, you stuff the Doh into a little chamber and apply pressure to the lever to squeeze the Doh through a patterned frame. I do admit that watching the various colors of Play-Doh ooze out of the machine in different shapes could be very entertaining. However, if you don't clean the toy out when you're done destroying a unsuspecting victim's carpet, you'll have a nasty mess on your hands. I do remember trying to pick and scrape dried Doh from the little cracks and crevices of this beast. Even letting it sit in water and trying to wash the Doh out didn't work too well!

What's my point? Well, as I travel through this nutty life, I continue to reflect and label each "season" with a title. I've had a season of change, a season of change, and, oh wait, a season of change. It never fails. When I begin to reflect back over the year (usually in January), I consistently feel like the last year has been typified by changes. Marriage, job, new baby, new job, new baby, death, new job, new house, adoption, new baby, sickness, drama... It all adds up to change over and over again. However, I'm determined that I'm not going to entitle this year another season of change. This year is going to be the season of Play-Doh!

Throughout my adult life, change has never been easy for me. I usually resist through a number of well-practiced tactics. This year, I'm simply going to view myself as a piece of Play-Doh. (In my vision, I'm a nice new cylinder of hot pink Doh that's just been plopped out of the can with that very odd new Play-Doh smell). I'm going to let God pick off chunks, mold them, smush them into the squeezy thing, apply pressure (ugh), and let me pour out from the other end into the creature that He'd have me be. That sure sounds easy. Believe me, I've been squeezed enough lately to know that it won't be easy.

Last year was probably one of the hardest years of my entire life. From being a single mom with three kids (one infant / diva, one special needs who is edging on preteen drama at all times / diva, and one old soul) to dealing with my Dad's health issues and having to fight for my marriage, I have definitely been squeezed. However, I refused to ooze out from under the pressure into a new creation. I fought and grew resentful, tired, and generally defeated. I'd become the dried Play-Doh that's nearly impossible to scrape out. However, thanks to some very patient friends who were willing to keep working to pry those loose pieces out, I finally began to see how bitter I'd become.

I say all of that to tell you that although there are times that I still grumble and stomp my feet about the possibility of having to face another day in the "Play-Doh vice," I will allow myself to be squeezed into whatever shape God has for me. So, instead of dwelling on 2010 and looking at the many trials and tribulations, I will look forward to 2011 as my own Season of Play-Doh!

Oh, the wonder of it all...

This time of the year always manages to get uncontrollably hectic no matter how many times I promise myself that we're going to keep it "simple." The chaos manages to sap the true meaning out of the Season and before I know it, I'm pulling the decorations down (mumbling and thinking nasty thoughts about the folks who engineer fake pre-lit Christmas trees). My thoughts go from thinking about how scared Mary must have been while wondering around Bethlehem looking for some inn which "left the light on" for her to tallying the dollars spent on things that ultimately didn't matter at all but sapped my resources! So, this year, I really haven't set too many expectations as far as decorating or even sending out cards! When Dasha made her yearly comment about our house being the only one on the street without lights outside, I didn't even flinch! I have no need to stand in the holly bushes trying to get those blasted light nets spread evenly and poke myself repeatedly! What gain comes from it? Nothing in the long run other than making Dasha happy and there are PLENTY of other ways that I can do that! As I tear myself away from that run away train of thought and get back to the point, I can tell you that this year, things will be SIMPLE! This will be the year that we focus on what's really important!

I've been much more sensitive to those things that really matter this year and here's what I have so far...

1) Taking a group of over 150 3rd graders to the Fox Theater to see The Nutcracker. As many of the boys started commenting on the "parts and pieces" that some of the men dancers had.... OK, I'm not even going to go there! You get my drift! Men in tights is not a good thing for bored 8 years olds to have to focus their attention on for any length of time! However, just as the kids were growing restless and I wondered if we were going to make it out alive, I looked over and one of the students was staring at the ceiling of the theater and completely in awe. She simply looked over and said, "This is incredible! Thank you for bringing me here." Wow! Who knew that something so simple spoken from an 8 year old could have such a profound effect. She was truly thankful. There aren't many times that my own kids show that kind of gratefulness! Then, I looked down the row over a few more kids who were squirming in their seats to see a couple of students cuddled up together and asleep. Sometimes, it's so easy to forget that these big responsible third graders are still babies! To see those two cuddled up together really did make the bus ride and squirmy students worth the trip! These children I teach every day are someone's babies. They jump into mom and dad's bed when they're scared and many of them still cuddle up with blankies or special toys at night! They aren't just soldiers who must meet the goals and pass the CRCT in order to clear my name for another year! They are precious little ones just as Annie, Grant, and Dasha are.

2) Each year, we read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever in class. If you've never read the book, you MUST find a copy and read it! The story tells of a rag-tag bunch of hoodlums who take over a very conservative Christmas Pageant. Throughout the book, the Christmas story is told. Although the lingo is definitely King James Version style and needs some translations, the hoodlums help the stiff and complacent church goers see the Christmas story in a new light! I'm always amazed at how much of the story my kids know! At one point in the story, they have a discussion about what would have happened if the Wise Men had reported back to Herod instead of going home a different way. Have you ever thought about that? It's a thought that doesn't cross my mind until I read this story and am reminded about the complete plan that was formed long before any of us were here to interfere! (I also have to note that when we were previewing the story and I told the kids that the pageant was based on the Christmas Story, some thought I was talking about Ralphie who gets his eye shot out with the Red Rider BB gun)!

3) Probably my best reminder of all so far came from one of our students who moved to the US from Columbia a few months ago. One of her teachers gave her a huge peppermint stick as a gift and she literally jumped up and kissed him on the cheek! She kept saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," in her broken English. By this point, the teacher was just about in tears! The little girl then went on to ask, "What is it?" She didn't even know what the gift was. She just knew that she was very appreciative!

There are so many times when I think about the Christmas Story and think about how miraculous and wonderful the baby Jesus' birth was. However, I think about it as if it was simply a daydream. I don't think about how uncomfortable Mary must have been riding on that blasted donkey all of the way to Bethlehem! (If we think we complain about tax day now, imagine how much Mary must have hated trudging all the way to Bethlehem to take care of their taxes on a donkey being nine months pregnant)! Shoot, I complained about walking to the mailbox when I was nine months pregnant! Then, as her labor pains hit, she was probably thinking about where in the world she was going to stay. She had to have been terrified! I knew exactly where I was going to labor and give birth and I was still nervous about the whole situation! Mary was a real woman having a real baby! She wasn't just a beautiful girl painted in a picture riding a donkey side-saddle into town! (Hopefully, Mary had a bit more class than I do. If Eric had tried to make me ride a donkey and then give birth in a barn, I don't think I would have been too kind about the situation and I'm not sure that he would have survived the birth)! But, we're never told of Mary's disposition so I have to assume that she truly knew that what was to come would change the world. So, there she and Joseph were - in a barn. Yes, the nice word is stable but let's face it, she gave birth in a barn! There were animals in that barn! She couldn't lay little Jesus down on the ground! He might have been stepped on or even worse. I can just imagine that the barn was not the most sanitary of accommodations! So, she place him in the feed trough! This was how our Savior was brought into this world. It wasn't grand or glorious in sight. We all know that the event of the birth was a glorious thing but the logistical realities of the situation were nothing to behold!

These are the thoughts that are helping me keep it simple this year. No frills and no fluff - just like that first Christmas. (I won't make my kids sleep in the barn, though, even though they act like they've been raised in one)! So, as my list of silly happenings which help me remember the real reason of Christmas grows, I will withstand the urge to put the rest of the lights outside and rush around trying to get teacher gifts bought and wrapped. The only urgency this year is to stay centered and focused on being grateful for what we have and for the One who has allowed us to have it!

Side note: I'm wondering if Scrooge started off on the right foot and was just trying to avoid the chaos but took it too far! If a ghost named Marley wakes me up, I promise that I'll go out and put the lights up outside!

Remote control

After a very rough week full of drama and trials, I was pondering what life would be like if we all had remote controls to deal with daily trials and joys. Here are just a few times I would have used that remote this week.

~Looking in the rear view mirror to see the girls holding hands and "singing" Jingle Bells - rewind / replay

~Arriving at Grandma's house to see Grant driving Papa's truck around the block (with Papa's guidance from the passenger seat) - pause (and mute to keep my comments from spilling from my mouth)

~Trying to figure out how to clean a toddler's favorite blankets (and all of her bedding) at 10:00 at night after she got sick on them - fast forward

~Having Grant run to get a washcloth to wipe vomit off of his baby sister - rewind / replay (if I could have the video edited so I wouldn't have to see the spewage)

~Watching Annie wipe tears from Grant's cheeks with her tiny little fingers after a very rough night - rewind / replay (Grant was too worried about her trying to poke his eyes out to see the beauty of the moment).

~Having to wake Annie up to make a WalMart run with all three kids at 8:00 for something silly that I'd forgotten to pick up - fast forward (Once again, the mute button will need to be activated)!

~Watching Dasha fall into a display of gift bags and knock the whole display to the ground in WalMart during the night run - double fast forward (She was fine but embarrassed and frustrated with herself. I was....)

~Realizing that Annie had managed to have a diaper blowout during the SAME WalMart trip (which was only supposed to take 10 minutes) and not having a diaper or wipes - fast forward

~I think the easier thing to do would be admit that I'd just like to use the DELETE button on the remote for the whole WalMart trip!!!

~Listening to my third graders discuss the names of the three Wise Men and what each one offered to the baby Jesus - rewind / replay

~Watching my students stand up for one of their classmates as if they were one big family - pause (This is why I teach 3rd grade. Peer pressure hasn't seeped into their systems too much yet but they still have a very strong understanding of what is right and wrong)!

~Seeing the look on Dasha's face and hearing her literally scream in the middle of the store when I told her that she could purchase a "fancy" dress that she'd been looking at to wear to the Daddy Daughter Dance - rewind / replay

~Watching one of my students bring his elf to school and placing it in a little bed he made for it out of a tin box and cotton balls and warning me that the elf might try to make a mess in the room - pause (Why can't they stay this age forever)?

~Listening to the girls bicker in the backseat. Dasha told Annie that the animal in her Night Before Christmas book was a reindeer. Annie quickly called it a horse. Dasha tried to reason with her and told her AGAIN that it was a reindeer. Annie promptly points out the window and screams, "NO rain!" This same conversation continued from Town Center to Towne Lake Parkway!!! - fast forward but save for a day when I'd like to look back and laugh

~Trying to help a child do factor trees, LCM, GCF, and prime factorizations when she doesn't even know her multiplication facts - fast forward (triple speed, please)

~Watching all three kids sit at the table and color (on paper - not walls or cupboards) and sing Christmas songs together - rewind / replay (especially next time they are all trying to kill each other)

~Peeking in Dasha's room to see both girls playing with a tiny Nativity set and Dasha trying to explain to Annie why she needs to be careful with the baby Jesus! - rewind / replay

~Watching Eric try to patch the wiring in the Christmas tree that the cat chewed through last year - rewind and replay if he isn't watching :) He still doesn't find it too funny and he wishes that the cat's ninth life would have been snuffed out when she chewed through that last wire - Lampoon Christmas Vacation style!

~Watching Annie throw the baby Jesus under the bed and then laugh hysterically, "Frow Esus!" Dasha would like to fast forward that moment because she felt that Annie was being nothing short of sacrilegious but I was to sneak away from the door before I wet my pants laughing! - rewind / replay

~Walking through the undies section of the store with Dasha and having her stop and actually touch a bra that was, well, H U G E! She touched the bra and simply said, "Wow!" - rewind and save for a day when I really need a good laugh

~Knowing that I'm going to rid the house of pacis in two weeks - fast forward (She only uses them at night but she REALLY likes them and will do absolutely ANYTHING for a paci)!

~Looking at my TO DO list for Christmas and realizing that I only have 20 days left - fast forward

~Seeing the excitement in the eyes of all three children at this special Season - pause (I don't ever want that to end)!

Bottom line, it's been a VERY long week, however, I have so many moments that make me realize how very blessed I really am! So, whether Annie and Dasha are arguing over reindeer or Papa and Grant are breaking too many laws to count (um, 10 year olds driving?), there are enough rewind and replay moments to keep me moving forward!

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...

I've written three different blog entries over the last week but ended up deleting them all. For some reason, words just aren't appropriate to even begin to wrap around this current "season" in my life. As I continue in this holding pattern, I'm waiting. Waiting for answers. Waiting for the right timing. Waiting for the next monster to pop out of door number three! This must have been what the Disciples felt like as Jesus slept through the raging storm and then simply commanded the seas to calm (Mark 4:35-40). I have to remember that my Father could simply bring this seeming chaos to a complete halt with one word if He thought that best. Obviously, I'm going to keep clinging to the ship (as long as He is still inside) and ride out the waves. Hopefully, I can wrap more words around this crazy life of mine in the near future. But, for now, just know that the Randolph family is being tossed around in the sea and waiting for the storm to calm. (As I close, I keep thinking I hear the words from the Gilligan's Island theme song somewhere in the background... "The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost. So, this is a tale of our castaways, they're here for a long long time. They'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb!"

Aim for the Crumple Zones

Over 20 years ago, my dad bought me my first car. I've honestly forgotten the model of the car other than it was an Oldsmobile. We called it the Brown Bomber. It was bigger than a Sherman tank and had once been a diesel but my dad thought it was best to convert it to a rolling bomb shelter that sucked gas. (On a very inappropriate note, we also called it the Rolling Terd due to the very unique brown color that the car was painted). All of the guys thought the car was awesome due to it's power and speed. All of the girls just saw it as a mode of transportation that wasn't a school bus and allowed us some extra freedom.

I drove the Brown Bomber for several years. It saw me through high school and my first few years of college. At one point, though, I put the Bomber's strength to the test. On my way to work one morning, I hit a patch of ice on a side road and did several 360s before hitting a telephone pole and winding up in a ditch. I wasn't hurt at all and the only scratch the Bomber sustained was the rear bumper. I'll never forget flagging down a Georgia Power truck traveling down that road to ask for help. They had a wench on the front of their truck and were able to pull me out and I was able to drive back home. When dad finally got home to see the damage I'd done to his beautiful car, he was amazed that the car had sustained minimal injuries. However, after he examined the underneath side of the bumper, he was shocked. He explained that there are crumple zones under the bumper that are designed to take impact and collapse and spare the cabin of the vehicle from some of the force. He'd never seen anyone collapse all of the zones. Although the rest of the car (and even the bumper) looked fine, upon closer inspection, he knew that the rear bumper supports would have to be replaced in order to keep me safe in the event I tried to go ice skating in the Bomber again.

Throughout the process of getting the car fixed, I learned that all cars have several different crumple zones. Cars are designed to be crashed and keep the occupants safe. Crumple zones are like armies that stand ready to protect you from any intruder. However, there are spots in the car which don't have excessive crumple zones and I was told that if I ever got myself into a situation where I knew I was about to be hit by another car, I should try to position my car to receive the direct impact in a known crumple zone. (Yeah, this is kind of like your mom asking if you have on clean underwear just in case you get into an accident. I don't think my immediate response to a car traveling directly at me is going to be, "Hmmm... let me pull around to the left a little so this oncoming bullet car can strike me right on the front tire). Bottom line, cars are meant to take impacts and protect their occupants.

Over the last several years, I feel like I've developed my own personal crumple zones. I've learned to deal with the difficulties of raising a special needs child and instead of letting those difficulties take a direct hit on my heart, I make sure everything is directed at a crumple zone. When something goes wrong at work, I know to take the direct hit in a crumple zone and then move on. When dealing with being a single mom while Eric is in Texas, I've learned to let the frustrations and hurts hit the crumple zones so I can take the least amount of impact possible. I've really gotten very good at making sure to take the majority of the blows in life in a crumple zone. This way, my heart is protected and my "normal" life can continue.

However, there are some accidents that you don't see coming and you just can't reposition yourself quick enough to let your crumple zone take the impact. September 22 was one of those days. It was the day before my birthday. My parents had given me a gift certificate to a jewelry store that carries my favorite line of pendants (old fashioned keys). Although Eric was home, he was trying desperately to get some work done so I'd taken the kids to mom and dad's house to stay for a few minutes so I could go pick up my new pendant from the jewelry store. When I left, dad was in the backyard swinging Annie. Grant was with them. Mom and Dasha were in the house. I ran across the street to the jewelry store and picked up my pendant. The job went so quickly that I decided to walk into the Bath and Body Work store next door and look around. My phone rang about the time I started looking at the new fall soaps. Grant was on the other end and simply asked where I was and said that Papa wasn't feeling too good and that I didn't need to stay gone too long. I hung the phone up and started to wrap up my outing when my phone rang again. This time, Grant sounded panicked and asked me to come back immediately. Grant never panics. (This is the same child that turned off Ansley's alarms when she passed away as if there wasn't anything wrong and then proceeded to go about his normal business). Needless to say, I ran out of the store and forced the poor van to go much faster than it's used to. I was back to the house within 3 or 4 minutes. When I walked into the door, I'd already prepared myself for what I'd see based on Grant's description. He had told me that dad couldn't move his left arm or hand and his face was droopy and he couldn't talk good. Grant had been with dad when dad suddenly realized something was wrong and tried to get Annie out of the swing but couldn't use his left hand and then couldn't speak clearly to tell Grant what he needed. Grant went on to tell me that he remembered reading about symptoms like that in his Boy Scout manual and he thought he needed to dial 911. Drama and details aside, when I reached the living room, dad was sitting in his recliner crying (I've never see him really cry before) and mom was sitting at his feet asking if he wanted her to call 911. At this point, I really don't remember too much other than calling 911 and Grant taking both girls upstairs and sequestering them until the paramedics left. (He'd also called my sister in Tampa and when he couldn't reach her, he called her husband and told him to let her know that she needed to come home).

These are the kind of days that crumple zones don't protect you from. I still can't spend too much energy thinking about the next hours and days that followed. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can protect you from watching someone who you've always seen as invincible become helpless. Images from those first few hours will forever be burned into my memory.

Dad was in the emergency room within 45 minutes of the first symptoms of his stroke. The trauma staff administered a clot busting drug called TPA that can only be given to victims within a very small window of time after the onset of a stroke. Then, Dad was admitted to the Neuro ICU area. After spending two days in the unit, they moved him to the rehabilitation area. He spent less than 24 hours there. The nurses realized quickly that their best bet was to let him go home before he started enlisting the other patients for an uprising. (He'd told the ICU nurses on Thursday afternoon that he WOULD be home for the Florida football game on Saturday). And, sure enough, they dismissed him around lunch time on Saturday so he could get home to his own recliner and big screen TV to watch the game.

Although Dad is still weak, his speak is understandable and his left arm and hand are quickly gaining strength. He is on the path to a full recovery. He's doing some occupational therapy to help him with his hand strength and he's doing some speech therapy to help strengthen the muscles around his mouth that now are a bit droopy and cause his speech to slightly slur.

The impact that Dad's stroke had on me completely missed every crumple zone I've developed and really shook me to my core. While I think many girls see their dads as invincible super heroes, I've learned to slow down and be thankful that my Dad is still here to tell Grant inappropriate jokes and be part of his Scout activities. He can still swing Annie and eat all of the pretend weird creations she cooks for him. And, he can still be the voice of reason for Dasha. There are some moments when Dad is the only person who can get past her crumple zones and go in for a direct hit!

Some days, I feel a bit guilty being able to remove myself emotionally from many situations which would send others into turmoil. In fact, this drives my husband nuts! Routinely, he tells me that I don't excited over things! I just make sure all of the arrows that life throws at me are direct hits in my crumple zones. Other times, I see my ability to remove myself as quite a gift. While others are getting their panties into knots over silly things, I can keep myself focused and continue on with my duties. (OK - if I'm wearing the old Hanes Her Way stuff, yeah, they do get into knots sometimes).

Bottom line, I've learned several things over the last couple of weeks. First, Grant is an amazing child. While having the innocence of a 10 year old, he can bear the burdens that many adults can't handle. Many times, I worry that he has too much responsibility with Dasha and Annie in the house. However, after watching him handle the situation with Dad, I know that the Path that has been set aside for Grant is filled with wonderful things that we are lucky enough to help prepare him for. Second, although I know Dad technically isn't a Super Hero, I will address him as such from now on so that he knows how much he's loved. Finally, I've seen several posters that tout, "Everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten." I think I'm going to print my own poster of the Brown Bomber and then find an engineer from Oldsmobile to highlight the crumple zones. I'll title the poster, "Aim for the crumple zones!" (As a side note, Eric's dad drove the Brown Bomber until just a few years ago when he had to stop driving. If he was still on the road, I'd be willing to bet that he'd be piloting the Rolling Terd)!

Privacy? Definition, please!

I don't think there has ever been a mom that hasn't had one of those moments when all they dream about is going to the bathroom unaccompanied. No little fingers poking under the door. No little voices asking, "What 'cha doing?" No children screaming at each other the moment you close the door. (Yeah, let's get real. There aren't any closed doors)! No sounds of things crashing (which usually results in a less than pretty sight of mom streaking from the bathroom to find out who's dead). And definitely no toddlers trying to "help" you! For those of you who don't have kids, believe me, I know this sounds ridiculous but there are some days, when a visit to the potty alone would be a dream come true!

Today is one of those days in my world. All I wanted was a simple visit to the bathroom for less than two minutes without someone helping with the toilet paper or ransacking the cabinets and pulling out all sorts of unmentionables. (No, Annie, they are NOT stickers! No, Annie. Stop, Annie. Don't stick that there, Annie)! So, I decided to go against every grain of common sense I have and decided to use the baby gate to "lock" Annie and Dasha in Dasha's room so I could have my own dreamy visit to the bathroom ALONE!

As I entered the bathroom, it was quiet and dark and I could hear the girls talking over the monitor. Dasha was folding clothes and telling Annie what each article was. "Shirt, socks, bra, panties, pants..." If you know Dasha, you'll know that she doesn't see any problem in teaching Annie the proper terms for each piece of clothing despite the fact that Annie may yell out the term at the most inopportune time. ("Mama, mama, mama! Look! Bra!") I can hear her saying that now in the middle of the church sanctuary! And, just let me say, if you are laughing at this plausible happening, you've never met Annie! Anyway, the banter between the girls continued and I began to relax and think I'd stumbled onto a great new way to buy myself a couple of minutes of peace and quiet. In fact, when I'd finished in the bathroom, I actually decided to wipe the mirror and counter off! I was feeling like a complete rock star! A bathroom to myself. Girls playing nicely together. But, I came back to reality and decided to go retrieve Annie before my ingenious plan went sour and caused me to have another round of why-did-I-think-that-was-a-good-idea-itis!

When I rounded the corner into Dasha's room, Annie was wearing Dasha's bra, panties, and socks. I didn't have my camera handy as the scene unfolded but you can see from the picture that Annie was none too happy about having to give up her newly acquired garments! (She was still wearing Dasha's socks, though, and went to bed with them on)!

There are two morals to this story. 1 - If you leave Dasha "in charge," be ready for anything! 2- Forget having any private potty time until your children leave home!

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1.02.28

Puzzle pieces and wise choices

If you know me very well, you know that I love to put things together. I love the thought of systematically taking lots of seemingly random pieces and making them into one big work of art. From furniture to puzzles, I love the challenge of turning all of those gazillion parts into something useful. Ok, I know puzzles aren't very useful but you get the picture.

I'm beginning to realize that my kids are each like a box full of pieces that have to be carefully assembled to reach the finished product. However, sometimes, it's like I'm assembling a one thousand piece puzzle and I never bother to look at the picture on the box to see what the finished product should look like! I just keep randomly jamming pieces together and if they fit, great, if not, I throw that piece back into the pile and try another one without a good plan of action! For anyone who has ever assembled a real puzzle before, you know that you always start with the edges first. Once you have the outline done, then you choose one area at a time to work on until you get to the finished product. Sometimes a puzzle takes a few minutes, some a few hours, and honestly, some, I never finish but I always have a plan of where to start and what to do next.

I'm finding out that each of my kids is like a different puzzle. Each child's "box" has a very different picture of what the finished product should look like. I have to admit that many times, for the sake of sanity, I try to use the same picture for all three kids and those are the days when I end up wanting to close my head in the freezer and take a Mulligan!

The other very trying part of this whole puzzle is that sometimes the picture on the outside of the box changes. Right now, Annie's box shows that the finished product is a obedient toddler with some semblance of manners. (Without my glasses on, I swear that picture looks more like one of the monsters from Monsters Inc., though)! Grant's box shows a pre-teen who understands the "whys" behind his choices as a child of God and functions as "salt of the Earth" in the real world despite what his peers choose. Then, there's Dasha's box. Sometimes, I think Dasha's box holds one of those 3-D puzzles that I've never been able to put together completely! Or even closer to the truth, one of those double sided puzzles where each piece has two sides and you have to figure out which side corresponds to the picture you're working on! Nonetheless, each child has a different box and has to be assembled quite differently.

When you first find out that you're pregnant, you start buying books that tell you about all of the "puzzle pieces" that you're going to have to deal with. (Although, I never saw too many chapters on how to get Rice Krispies from the buckle of a car seat or Hot Wheels cars out of the toilet). After reading tons of parenting books before Grant was born about these "pieces", I just assumed that the information in those books could be trickled down over all of the other siblings who would enter the house. Ha! The books such as Baby Wise that I read and used to guide Grant's early years have simply made great bookends as Annie has made her way through the house! There is only one book that seems to cover every one of the puzzles that we've been given as gifts - the Bible.

Within that great book which shows the best way to fit all of the pieces together, the verse that continually comes to mind is Proverbs 13:20. He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm. I have to be wise. That's so darn hard sometimes! However, I can tell you from experience, that kids act like their parents! I think the most common phrases uttered in the halls of schools are, "That apple didn't fall far from the tree," and in extreme cases, "That gene pool needs some Clorox!" Your children are a direct reflection of you - like it or not! The best barometer of my actions is the actions of my own kids! That's scary business! I hate to admit it but I have a real potty mouth when the going gets tough. I make a conscious effort in times of trial such as slamming my hand in the van's sliding door or dumping my coveted Coke Zero in the perfect Chick-fil-A cup into the floor board of the van to NOT let those words slither from my mouth. However, I admit that sometimes, I fail! When Dasha accidentally threw the Wii remote into the fireplace a few months ago and uttered a choice word, Grant quickly told her that she couldn't say that word. She quickly reminded him that Mom says that word. (The whole time, I was standing in the kitchen listening the my stomach churn at the conversation)! At that point, dear Grant simply said, "Well, she made a mistake but you're still not supposed to say it!" I felt like I was about three inches tall! However, Dasha was simply doing what Mom did. I had NOT been wise in controlling my tongue and she had followed suit!

What do puzzle boxes and potty mouths have to do with each other? I have to daily seek out what the picture on each child's puzzle box looks like and I have to set the example in order for my kids' pieces to finally match the finished product on the box! I have a LONG way to go in my pursuit of being "wise" in order to lead my children. It is a daily battle. However, if I continue being a fool, guess what my kids will be? There are already too many fools running around this planet! I need to work hard to seek and discover what the finished puzzle for each of my kids should look like and be a wise role model for them! Geez! It sounds so easy, doesn't it! Well, I'll see how easy it is the next time Dasha leaves a Polly Pocket in the floor and I step on it in the middle of the night only to trip and smash my toe against on of Grant's Lego creations!

Deuteronomy 6:6-8 These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. 7Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.

Note to self - this verse does NOT give permission to tie the children up in the name of learning to walk with God! Nor does it give permission to reenact that bank commercial where they staple bar codes to the customers' heads and staple commandments to the children's little noggins!

(You forget - it's summer vacation and I'm trapped ALONE with all 3 children. I have to remind myself of even the smallest things)!