...which is unfortunate since all I seem to be able to do is stare at the blinking cursor. I've just about meme'd y'all into oblivion so I thought it might be time for some real live mediocrity.

And since we are the subject of un-excitement (spell check wants un-excitement to be encystment. I have no idea what that means but it doesn't sound exciting either!), the kids are in Big Testing this week at school. Apparently when it's time for the Big Testing parents are supposed to provide nutritious breakfasts as opposed to the breakfasts we normally feed our children. Cookie Crisps and a Coke don't count? What?!

Being the Wanna Be Good Mom that I am, I actually prepared food this morning that exceeded room temperature. After all that work, I'm expecting 99th percentile. And if the awesome grub didn't do the trick, the brother-to-brother mentoring ought to work. This morning Boy Three asked Boy Two what a preposition was - you know, in case in turned up on his test.

With a knowing smile, Boy Two said, "That is SO easy. It's a word that is found between some other words in a sentence."

The child is a prodigy. Webster and Roget would be so proud.

And speaking of dictionaries and the like, I'm reminded to tell you my book finally has an official name! Y'all. It was harder titling the thing than it was writing it. Married to the Ministry was always tentative but after going through the titling process (did y'all know there is a whole titling process?), the publishers and I have finally agreed on...

*drumroll*

"You Can Still Wear Cute Shoes...And Other Great Advice from an Unlikely Preacher's Wife."

If you hate it, please keep it to yourself. I'll be devastated. Okay, not really but it'd be great to hear your nice thoughts! I'm really, really getting pumped now because we can move on to cover design since the title is decided. I promise I will cry like stupid baby when I see this thing with a picture on front. I also assure you as soon as I have the design and I'm given liberty to share it, you'll be the first to see! We may even make a little contest out of choosing a cover if I can get my awesome editor to arrange for a choice or three. I'm horrible at decision-making. Just ask anyone who has ever shopped or eaten with me more than once.

Alright, I know this is short but it's time for the kids' devo and early bedtime. I may just hit it a bit early myself.

I'll need to be fully rested if I am to cook a warm, nutritious breakfast again in the morning.

This being-a-good-mom stuff is exhausting.

First of all, thank all of you for your sweet prayers on behalf of Son Three. The surgery was successful and uneventful other than the Doc deciding to take out the adenoids while he was in the cutting mood. {What are adenoids and how did he get them out? Seriously, are those things removed through the ears, the nose, the throat? I'm thoroughly baffled but not brave enough to look it up on YouTube.}

The most enjoyable part of the day was seeing the boy drunk as a bicycle on the 'happy juice' he was given before going to the O.R. My girlfriend Tammy, who happens to be the Most Awesome Day Surgery Nurse Ever, held our hands and petted Three as the medicine took effect. I knew we were in trouble when he started dancing in the bed, waving his hands over his head, and singing, "It's time to raise the roof, uh huh, oh yeah..".

The looser Three's tongue got, the more fun we had at his expense. Luke asked, "Is there anything you've not told me the truth about that you would like to tell me now?"

Three said, "Yeeeeesssss. I've been drinkin' beer."

Where'd you get beer?

"At Hooters."

These are the times you wish your friend hadn't just introduced you as pastor and pastor's wife to the entire nursing staff.

In an earlier decade, Luke and I would have made careful explanations to anyone who would listen that we have never (Not ever, never in our whole life! Please believe us - never!) been to Hooters. But, now that we have a little mileage on us, we just laughed our heads off and impishly let everyone wonder how our 9 year-old learned about beer and Hooters.

And now you are wondering. I know you are.

And I'm still laughing my head off.

After the procedure was over, the Doc gave us the rundown on how things went. I suppose I should be alarmed that the first thing he said was, "Always keep a watch on this boy and drugs. He enjoys them very much."

Why, thanks Doc for speaking that hopefully un-prophetic word over my son.

And then he said, "By the way, how does someone in Alabama become such a huge Georgia Bulldog fan?"

What makes you ask that, Doc?

"Well let's just say right before we put him under he started fist-pumping and yelling, 'woof woof woof GO DAWGS'." (Aren't we proud, Mandy and Annie?)

That's my boy. At least he remains true to his convictions when he's on The Junk. If he'd been cheering Roll Tide we would have wheeled him straight to Rehab.

Instead, we ended up at WalMart to get the boy a little post-surgical prize.

Isn't that where all good parents take their child after an operation?

Perhaps Three isn't the one who needs the Intervention after all.

Tomorrow morning Son Three (9 years old) is having surgery to begin the process of removing tubes that have been in his ears for SEVEN years.

Nobody ever told me they weren't supposed to remain that long. I figured the longer the better and credited his lack of ear infections to the long suffering tubes. However, after he began having problems a few months back, we eventually ended up at an ENT who explained the problem was not a typical infection but a rejection of the tube by the eardrum itself.

Have y'all ever heard of such? The Doc told me that 99% of tubes come out within two years but those remaining longer can cause permanent damage to the hearing. He will have to cut the tube out, remove the scar tissue, and patch the eardrum so it grow back together normally. My Boy will not be able to hear out of the ear up to six weeks. When that one is healed, he will have to return for the same process on the other ear.

Luke has a great saying, "The only minor surgery is someone else's." Even though we expect this to be a smooth procedure, I don't think any of us look forward to our child being put under anesthesia and a scalpel for any reason. It also breaks my heart that he may be in pain and discomfort for so long. With that said, I would be so appreciative if you'd say a prayer for a slightly nervous boy and his slightly more nervous mom and dad.

Y'all are awesome.


"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you."
~Isaiah 26:3

UPDATE: CAN Y'ALL BELIEVE WE DIDN'T EVEN PLACE IN THE CONTEST? I'm not sure how offended I am or if I should just be glad we didn't place worst of the best. I really don't want to know if we were 4th. Best of the worst doesn't sound so great either.

Wendy, I smell foul play.

I'm going to go pout now.

I know y'all have been refreshing my page all day today 'cause you just couldn't wait to see what the Homecoming Door looked like. Behold, the work of art.

What can not be done justice in the photo is the shiny brilliance of the gold glitter. It was an inspired move on my part even if I do say so myself. Luke agreed it looked fab even if he does look like Liberace on steroids. I personally think our guy is a rockstar.

Full view. My friend Wendy is the mastermind behind the door. She took pictures of all the kids in class with scared faces. The text says, "Did someone say Tigers? Never fear, The Hornets are here!" The expressions of the kids are downright hilarious.

The Girl couldn't wait until Friday to wear her Homecoming get-up. Just realized I went through the trouble of blacking out our town name and yet told you who our mascot is. Oh well. I figure if y'all want to know where I live you've figured it out by now.

The Girl in front of her door. She is so proud that her daddy (YES MY DADDY DID THAT AND HE EVEN HELPED WITH THE GLITTER!) drew the picture.

And I am too. Thanks for bailing me out, honey.

Again.

On Friday, the elementary will be having a wagon parade (think Radio Flyer) which thankfully, I'm not in charge of making. The classes pull their wagon down the hallway and are judged at the end.

What do you girls do during Homecoming? Do you have any cute ideas to tell us about? I need to stock up for next year but I'm thinking there are many of you who may need some themes for your own class projects. Share away!

Well, we survived Sleepover 2008.

Oh, I know I've teased about hard it would be but these girls have been a delight. We have had an absolute blast. This picture of The Girl should give you just a little taste of the pinkness that went on in the playroom last night. (I have more pictures of all the girls that I will post if I get the parents' permission!)

And by the way, did y'all know that polo shirts under ball gowns are all the rage this season?

The boys came in from the football game last night and stared into the playroom for a good long minute. After the shock wore off, they said, "The Man Cave has been infected!!"

They plan a large scale fumigation this afternoon.

Hopefully that will take place during my large scale nap.

And yes, I want to ask y'all a question!!

Every year I stress over what to do for my kids' birthdays. I love looking online to see get party ideas. How about we have a party carnival where you girls can post your ideas or even link to your previous party posts (say that 5 times fast) so we can share each in one another's brilliance? I'm thinking we could note age and gender in the link making it easier to scroll through to see what applies to our own families.

What do you say? Will you play?

If y'all seem interested I'll fab up a button and set a date.

I love fun stuff!

p.s. Have y'all noticed I've posted THREE TIMES in two days? I KNOW.

I've been dying to use that for a post title.

Even though I am no fan of Vanessa Hudgens and the idea of dancing in the street with glow-in-the-dark sneakers is a little cheezy, you've got to admit that her token Disney diva song can be quite catchy in an annoying why-am-i-singing-this-instead-of-Amazing-Grace kind of way. And if you don't watch Disney 24/7 like we do, you have no idea what I'm talking about. You're the better woman for it.

Trust me.

So, we are getting ready for The Girl's Slumber Party where there will be dancing and all manner of make-upping, hair-fixing, and manicuring. And lots of Barbie-playing. Oh yes, there have been frantic preparations going on around here.

The first order of business was to get Barbie's house cleaned. You may be thinking, "Well, how hard could that be?" Some of you Twittered with me about that but I need for y'all to understand we aren't just talking about any little Barbie house. Yes, she may have smaller homes dotted across the country but her Alabama estate is located in my playroom.


I'm so upset because the camera is taking fuzzy pictures. I can't figure it out for the life of me but maybe this is enough to give you a visual of the monstrosity that is Barbie's mansion. Apparently, some things have been going on in the house which I would not approve of considering the fact living room furniture was in the bathroom and the commode was in the kitchen.

That Barbie is such a slob.

I also found Ken with his arm broken off in the laundry room. I can only imagine he acted inappropriately towards Barbie so her dad and three brothers took matters into their own hands.

A foreshadowing of what will happen should any boy get within three feet of The Girl.

Ken says to consider yourself warned.

The Girl and I removed all the furniture and mopped the floors. It's pathetic that Barbie's house is cleaner than mine.


And since we are showing off The Crib, it's only fitting we reveal what Barbie has in the garage. Two identical VW's - one for each color outfit Barbie may be wearing that day. And of course we have a Jeep for when Barbie needs to indulge her inner Sarah Palin.

I've seriously got to get off the computer to get ready for the party. Shout a prayer for me tonight! But hey, I have an idea for a birthday party blog carnival. I'll tell you about it soon!

L8R!

Lisa

Do you ever have times when you look at the next couple of days on your calendar and have a panic attack over all the stuff that somehow has to be accomplished at your hand?

* We begin Bible Release Time tomorrow. This is the program our church hosts which allows children from Grades 2-6 to attend Bible Classes one day per week. I teach those classes and tomorrow is the kick off. I'm typing this post as I wait for the copier to print worksheets for the kids.

* We have AWANA kick-off tonight. I just finished printing registration sheets in anticipation for a bigger than ever club year. Praying we have plenty of food. Not looking forward to cooking 160 weenies. Blech.

* The Girl is having a sleep over Friday night for her birthday. You may find it amusing that I've planned to do an at home version of a Libby Lou party for her friends. We pulled out all of Girl's makeup today to see what kind of supplies we had and somehow I've ended up with glitter all over my face. Didn't know it until I got to church so I'm wondering what our darlin' church people will think their PW has been up to on the side.


I thought typing it all out would help with the hyperventilating that is going on over here.

It didn't work.

I'm taking Donna's advice and resorting to some prayer. Amazing how that can be the last thing we think of when it should have been first, huh?

*Breathing deeply*

This weekend I traveled to Pigeon Forge to teach a retreat entitled "Sarah: A Woman out of Control." (I may have mentioned it a time or three). While I was preparing the material, God opened my eyes to many things but perhaps the thing most relevant personally was trusting that God's will where I am concerned will be accomplished even in the face of human impossibility. There are promises God has made towards me, but I am the world's worst at trying to finagle the details to make sure what I believe He desires has the opportunity to come about.

Because we all know God needs help in working all things together for good, don't we? Let's say I'm convinced God has led me to apply for a job or seek a ministry position. Don't you think I'm doing God a favor by emailing and following up continually? Really, what if the person forgets me and ends up messing up His calling on my life? And then there is always the hubby. Won't God appreciate the rest if I play the Holy Spirit and manipulate him into being a more godly man instead of making God take the time to mold him Himself?

Girls, the one who neither slumbers nor sleeps is not lax where your details are concerned. If He wants you to have that job, it won't be given to another. And if He wants your hubby to step it up, a pounding heart will gain much more than a pounding head. Give God the opportunity to work on your behalf! In my experience, He's not very fond of splitting glory.

Oh well, I didn't mean to go off on a tangent. Let me show you some pictures!

This is my Mom-In-Law, Frankie, and My Friend Kaye. I can't just call Kaye by her given name. It must be preceded by My Friend or it just isn't the same. All of you should aspire to be a friend to these two girls. They plan these retreats twice a year as a way to bless their churches and girlfriends. There is such a diverse group there every time and I can't tell you how much I look forward to my times with them. And, it would be enough for them just to go through the trouble of coordinating the travel arrangements but THEY COOK. And we aren't talking cafeteria food, honey. Just let the words Paula Deen, mac-n-cheese, pinto beans, meatloaf, chicken casserole, biscuits and gravy, homemade chocolate cake, etc. etc. float around in your mind and then you'll have some small idea of the smorgasboard we girls are treated to for mealtimes.

What? Did I hear you say you want to be on Frankie and Kaye's friend list? They would be delighted. :)

Christy, Melanie, Mary Lynn, and Jerri. I'm praising God for some promises He's fulfilled for Melanie. Her DIL Christy is a hoot! Mary Lynn and Jerri co-organized the weekend and worked tirelessly in the kitchen with Frankie and Kaye. Y'all, I can not say enough about the deliciousness of the buffet they prepared or how much I know we all appreciate how hard they worked to make sure the girls enjoyed our weekend.

Ellen and Margaret. Margaret is going on a cruise in October that follows Paul's missionary journeys. I'm so jealous happy for her I could die.

Christy and Judy. Both of them sweethearts! I wish I had pictures of every woman there but my picture taking abilities are limited. Please know I'm crazy about every one of you!



I already mentioned that My Girl turned 6 over the weekend. Her aunt Laura Beth brought her this Princess balloon and I swear you would have thought she'd given her a pair of rhinestone flip flops. Mostly, I think she loved it so much because of who gave it to her. The Girl loves her auntie.

Here's a shot of part of the group. I had so many pictures of individuals and dern if they aren't mostly blurry. This was such a fun group of women. I knew about half of them and the others I fell in love with instantly. Oh yes, notice how high the ceiling peak is. You'll need to refer back in a moment.



The pretty tables. The goody bags had some awesome loot inside.

Okay, now here's where I get to tell you about Laura Beth's Balloon Retrieval Skillz. Remember how I told you The Girl was bonkers over the balloon?

Well, she accidentally let it go.

She was sobbing.

Right as it was time for me to teach.

Now obviously I couldn't run down to the store and get her another and y'all, these ceilings were crazy high. Thankfully, crazy tall Laura Beth came to the rescue.

She couldn't bear seeing The Girl so brokenhearted so, get this, she STACKED TWO CHAIRS ON A TABLE TOP and tried to reach the balloon string.

She wasn't tall enough but there was no limit to her crazy so she decided to hold The Girl up, ON TOP OF THE TWO STACKED CHAIRS ON A TABLE TOP, to see if she could reach it. By this time, it was either have a heart attack or take pictures.

I chose the pictures.

When we realized that the toddler on top of the auntie on top of the two chairs on top of the table wasn't going to do the trick, one of the ladies dug through the kitchen drawers and found barbecue tongs. I don't think it occured to any of us to take The Girl out of Laura Beth's arms so she could snap at the balloon string.

Laura Beth got the balloon, saved the day, and The Girl was smiling once again.

You rock, LB!!

Here's The Girl with her Grandmama (Laura Beth's and Luke's mom). I love this picture of them!

And this is probably my favorite picture of the retreat. The Girl was clearly not interested in hearing anything her mother had to say during the sessions. In fact she said, "Mom, is there something I can do while you are talking because I know it is going to be really boring."

There's a referral I'll put on my bio.

Otherwise, she was such a total angel for all four gatherings and of course, everyone there just babied her to death. It swelled my heart for our first Mommy/Girl getaway to be centered around The Word. I just look forward to the day when she'll pretend she's listening to me instead of Purble's Place and Barbie.com on the headphones.

I still have more pictures of The Birthday but this post is already as long as my arm. I'll spare you until tomorrow!

Thank all of you for your well wishes and words of support as we have come to grip with our Eldest son's injury. I am glad to say those three baby stitches are healing nicely but I'm even more happy to announce Eldest mustered his courage and played through the pain in his first 7th grade football game last night. (If you didn't read that first sentence through the lens of sarcasm, please read again.)

I think it was obvious from the Accident Incident that I'm still stumbling my way through the boy-to-man transition. The Boy Mommy in me wanted to keep my son home last night, put an ice pack on his darlin' little head, cover him up on the couch with some Doritos and Sponge Bob, and generally baby him until we were both ready to vomit.

The thing is, he's not a baby anymore.

That breaks my heart in many ways but it also challenges me in others. His game has shifted from PeeWee to Jr. High. My game has to grow right along with him.

When he was younger, (and I'm still here with three of my children), it was important for him to be secure. To know that the people in his life from family members to teachers loved him, overlooked his faults, and generally accepted him unconditionally.

As he grows his security is still a primary concern but instead of it being a filter through which all things must flow, it should become a rear guard that undergirds all his experiences. At some point the flaws in character; the laziness, the absent-mindedness, the half-heartedness, and/or attitudes of disrespect, etc. need to be addressed - by family, teachers, and other significant figures in my kids' lives. I am in a constant state of prayer that my children will find favor before God and man but I want it to be an earned favor, not a respect that is handed out freely without due diligence. I am grateful for every person who has demanded more of my son than he would have given were his buttons not pushed or his will not challenged.

Obviously our favor before God is based on salvation and not works, but it still comes at a personal price of self-sacrifice and humility. Favor with man is no different. When I choose to place my children in the care of an adult, whether it be in the classroom or on a playing field, I have to trust God will use that individual to draw the best from him. I must also encourage my son to rise to the occasion of whatever challenge is placed before him. Does he know I love him unconditionally and will catch him when he falls? Absolutely. Do I do him a disservice if I prevent that fall before it happens? YES. No boy ever grew into a man behind the shield of his mom's apron.

So last night, instead of cartoons, we bandaged our boy's head and watched him wince as his dad banged on his helmet to see if he could stand the pain (or to numb him - I was never clear on which). He didn't really want to get hit, but he did. It wasn't easy, but he soldiered through. He got on that field and played with heart and when it was over said, "It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. I'm glad I played."

He manned up.

And his mom is proud.

So this morning I'm at the track just beginning my somewhat daily walk/run/walk when I get a call from Luke:

"Where are you???!!"

"Umm..at the track?"

"Get to the school. Coach just called and Eldest got hit in the head with a football pylon and needs stitches."

Thankfully, the track is only 4.7 seconds from the high school so I jumped in the car not having any idea if the gash was as bad as hubby made it sound.

You see, Luke is a little high-strung when it comes to the kids being injured. There was a time a few years ago when our then three-year-old youngest son shot a finishing nail through his hand with the air nailer. (That's totally a story for a different day.) As soon as it happened, Luke picked boy Three up under his armpits, held him straight out from his body, and ran the length of our hallway 37 times screaming, "He's shot with a nail! He's shot with a nail!" I finally convinced him to stop it with the sprinting and use some of that energy to get him to the hospital. We raced to the car and Luke proceeded to pull out of the driveway with the child in his lap IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT.

No Britney, I will not allow you to drive down the street with my child in your lap, nail in hand or not.

Y'all remind me to tell you the rest of that story sometime. It really is a good one. For now, I think you get the point that Luke, well, he's a little excitable.

Moving on, I went to the school office and signed out Eldest. Amber, (the most awesome office aid ever) called the infirmary and couldn't find him. About that time, Luke busted through the office door and said, "I HAVE HIM! LET'S GO!!!!!"

And y'all, I'm not trying to minimize the fact my child got hurt but it really wasn't that bad. I'm thinking glue and maybe stitches; Luke's thinking concussion and maybe brain surgery.

I had to take my car home and while there, Luke asked me to run in and get his cell phone. I was in the house for a nanosecond and the dern horn starts blowing "HONK HONK HONK HONK".

There is nothing worse than an alarmist with an alarm.

So we finally get on the road to the Emergency Room. We get there, it's not very crowded thank goodness, and go back to Triage. The nurse asked Eldest, "On a scale of 1-10, how is the pain?" Do you know what he said?

"About a 6."

Clearly, he inherited his father's tendency to exagerrate.

After I explained the pain scale a little more carefully, Eldest agreed that maybe he was only a 0-1. "Umm, nurse. You can cancel the transport to the Morphine Clinic."

Oh it gets better.

Remember I told y'all Eldest got hit in the head with a pylon? (It was just the result of some horseplay during first period athletics. The 7th Grade football team was helping the coach set out the markers for the game tonight and things got a little crazy.)

Okay, this is good. A nurse came into our room, read the chart and said, "So, I see you got hit in the head with a python?"

A stinkin' Python. Are you kidding me?

Lady, to what kind of school do you think we send our kid? The Seigfried and Roy Center of Performing Arts?

After we explained that HECK NO HE DIDN'T GET HIT IN THE HEAD WITH A PYTHON, Eldest was able to lie back and relax until he got his three baby stitches in the forehead. Thankfully, our dear friend Tammy was at work and came down to rescue us from Terri Irwin.

On our way back to school (yes, he wanted to go back to school because today was Crazy Spirit Day) a weird thought hit me. When I had signed Eldest out I was required to put a reason. My brain was going in every kind of direction and all I could think of was "Accident".

So I signed out my kid with a note beside his name that said he had an accident.

I told him what I had written and he said, "GREAT MOM. Now everyone's going to think I peed in my pants." So for those of you who go to school with my boy, just know he was only gushing blood - nothing else.

My How-Not-To-Embarass-Your-High-School-Child-Skillz need some perfecting.

Now, even though Luke can get a little crazed when the kids are hurt, he totally has his priorities in check. Would you like to know the first question he asked after my boy was stitched up?

"Doc, when can he put a football helmet back on?"

And then a phone call from Coach, "How is that head? We have a big game Tuesday!"

And then a call from a Deacon, "Is this going to affect his football?"

Men. I may tell the whole high school my son has had an 'accident' but he knows his mommy could care less if he puts on a football uniform. Even a grown boy needs that kind of secret security - don't y'all think?

This whole thing has got me thinking though. Since football is the instigator and motivator behind the accident and recovery, I'm sending the ER bill to the Quarterback Club.

And if the Cow Plop didn't raise enough to cover it, well, I'll just take one of those darlin' t-shirts y'all are selling at the game tonight.

(Just messing with you, President Mary and Entourage. Just messin'. I like the pullovers much better.)

Good grief...this post was as exhausting as the day.

Have an Awesome Friday night, interpeeps!

I absolutely love the first day of school when the kids get to come home and tell all. Here are a few of my favorite quotes so far:

Boy Two: "My teacher's aide is a goth high school kid."
Me: Well is he nice?
Boy Two: "I don't know. He doesn't speak."


Boy Three: "My teacher's aide is Dora. Lucky for her."
Me: Lucky for her that her name is Dora?
Boy Three: "No. Lucky for her that I'm in her class."
Me: *Eye Roll*

Me: Girl, what was your favorite part of school today?
Girl: "Pretending we set the play kitchen on fire so we could call the fire department on the fake phone."


And Boy One is still at football practice but I've already heard through the small school grapevine he got lost looking for a class. Isn't that every 7th grader's worst nightmare? I had plans to pet him to death when he gets home but Luke has informed me that he's grown now and doesn't need his mother smooching on him just because he had trouble locating Science.

Whatever, man. Isn't it obvious why God gave children a mother?

I should say a special thank you to our awesome principle, Mr. S., for helping my boy find his way. It's nice to know there's a little compassion remaining in your gender.

More later on the emotional breakdowns that took place in the Kindergarten hall this morning, but right now it's still too raw.

So today I went to Chattanooga to make a LifeWay run (needed more No Other God books!) and since I was there, I planned on making a visit to the mother ship: Target. I had quite a list of things I needed to get for vacation and was just a TAD BIT EXCITED about going for the first time in a couple of months.

Yes, I said months. You can weep silently.

The only downside to my little escapade was the fact I had to take all four kids with me.

Never mind about weeping silently. You may wail out loud. I did.

I currently only have one pair of shorts to my name that have been bought in the past five years so I really hoped to find a couple of pairs for the beach. I put The Girl in the cart and breathed murderous threats to the boys about how they'd better stay right beside me while I looked in the clothing department.


Don't even ask how that worked out for me.


Boy Number Three decided it would be great fun to climb underneath all the clothing racks. He also thought it was a scream to point out bras and panties to his brothers and snicker his little head off. It just went downhill from there.


The Boys were supposed to go to a ball team swim party that night so I told Boy Three as a consequence of acting like a moron, he absolutely would not go. "Oh, but if I'm a perfect angel the rest of the time will you take it back?" I told him yes knowing there was no way he'd ever pull it off. Then I wondered what in the world I was doing to myself? Have you ever punished your kids to your own detriment? Tonight was Girls' Bible Study and his not going swimming meant I would have to deal with him whining the rest of the evening. I didn't think about that until I had already spoken or I would have thought up some torture Luke would have to dish out. However, in order to preserve my credibility, I stood my ground.

Now Boy Three is known for trying his best to sweet talk himself out of trouble. Since he could tell I was resolved in not letting him swim, he resorted to Plan B while we were in the dressing room: Excessive Flattery. While I was trying on clothes, Rico Suave pulls this one:

"Wow, mom. How much weight did you lose? Cause it really shows. I mean, you look skinny. And I do mean skinny."

Who trains these boys to know at such a young age how to get straight to the heart of a woman?

Anyway, you know I bought that line - NOT. But I have to admit it's better than being told how large I am by a certain Girl.

Within fifteen minutes I was ready to leave the kids on the sidewalk with a 'Free To Good Home' sign around their neck. I abandoned my entire shopping list and only left with two cotton shirts off the clearance rack. (Which were black and gray even though I'd resolved to only buy color this spring. Representative of my mood, I suppose.)


So we go into the parking lot and guess what?


No Suburban.


I was absolutely certain of where I'd parked it. The kids and I walked row after row and I was thoroughly convinced someone had stolen my car. Just as I was about to cry, and man and wife pulled up to ask if they could help me and I told them,


"I just know I parked my car right there under that tree and it is gone! Someone has stolen my car!"


The man was so gracious and offered to drive the parking lot for me to see if he could find any clues. In the meantime, I kept walking all the while crunching numbers and realizing there was no way I would be able to replace the car with the insurance pay out. And then there was vacation. How were we going to go on vacation if the car was gone? I was in full-on panic mode.

And then I saw the Nice Man.

And he was pointing at a Suburban.

My Suburban.

That I had parked in an entirely different part of the parking lot than I remembered.

You know what's so scary? I still have no recollection of parking in that particular space. So I'm thinking there are two options:

1. I've been Punk'd.

2. I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the 4-Kid Trip to Target.


I vote for the latter.

As much as I'm sure most of you are not at all interested in Little League Baseball, I have to tell you that we are on our way to play in the 11/12 District Tourney today and tomorrow. Our boys came in 2nd in Sub District after an umpire-induced, devastating defeat in the bottom of the 7th inning Tuesday night in the championship game. It's kind of hard to win after having to give the other team 4 outs per inning.

But I'm not bitter, really. Those guys work hard for the big bucks.

And I work hard to stay ingognito behind my big ole black sunglasses when I'm gently reminding them to wear their thicker glasses to the next game or suggesting their moms wear combat boots. Yes, ma'am. There is a reason I don't wear our church t-shirts to the ballgames. I wouldn't want to embarass Jesus or I*** Baptist.

Or Luke. Can't forget about him. Is it even necessary or me to tell you we don't sit anywhere near each other on the sidelines?

Oh well...I'll be off for a couple of days. Wish my boy Godspeed and me a restrained tongue. And also pray we aren't scheduled a Sunday game cause, y'all, we don't do Sunday ball if it means missing church. It kind of ruins the preacher's testimony, dontcha think?

Have a great weekend!

.....but it would explain why some of the most ridiculous things happen to me.

So yesterday afternoon I was taking my oldest son to baseball practice. I had him, Boy 2, and The Girl in the car with me. On the way to the field, I decided I could not live one more second without a bag of sour gummy worms. I'm telling y'all, I'm obsessed. Those things are so stinkin' good and I'm literally having to fight my sin nature not to eat a whole bag every day. Will you still love me if I tell you I had a Romans 7 breakdown? (BTW, being the gummy worm connoisseur that I am, I feel obligated to let you know these are not as good as these.)

Boy 2 loves to act like a nerdy dork for fun so before I ran in the store he said (in his best Pee Wee Herman voice), "Mom, would you please buy me some moist towelettes?" And because sarcasm is a love language in our house, I said, "You big sissy! What in the world does a boy need with a 'moist towelette'? If you get your wittle, bitty hands dirty at the ball field we'll spray you down with the water hose. Or swish them around in the toilet, whichever is closer." We all laughed and I ran in to get my gummy worms.

While at the checkout I saw a man whose daughter comes to our church. I asked how she was, he told me she was out in the car, so I made a point to wave at her as I was leaving.

Okay, picture this. There was a car in between mine and hers and somehow when I waved my meshy-woven, beaded bracelet got caught in this car's antenna. I don't mean just a little caught. I mean my arm was fully stretched in the air, completely entangled, and would not come down. I started waving with my other arm hoping they won't notice but yeah, whatever. The girl and her new step mom were laughing at me. My own kids were laughing at me. Somehow I managed to wrangle loose without breaking the antenna clean off this poor, unsuspecting vehicle. The car may have been safe, but my ego was SO not.

I finally got in the car and Boy 2 said, "Mom, you ever heard of karma? I guess you should have gotten me those moist towelettes."

Ooooooh. Good one.

Clearly my padawan has been paying attention in class.

And my dear future daughter-in-law's mom - if you are out there?

I apologize in advance.

We took the kids for an ice cream after church last night. We were in the car and insults like 'ugly', 'hyper-active', 'weird', and 'dork' were flying about. Why didn't I stop them you ask? Because I was the one using half the words, that's why. Like my friend Kelly says, sarcasm is a love language in our house.

After a speed-round-o'-smack, The Girl yelled out her own slander she'd been working very hard to piece together and it came out like this:

"Oh, yeah! Well y'all are weird, hyper, and ugly-active!!"

She won the cash money.

UPDATED:

You know, when I posted this a few days back, I figured it might raise a couple of eyebrows and that it could possibly offend. But, I alone know the heart behind anything I write and it is a light-hearted heart if I do say so myself. The people who know me and have spent any length of time around here know this, too.

You girls should know I am a Happy American. When I tell you I'm a Republican, I'm not mad about it. If you tell me you are not, I'm not mad about it. Though I more closely align with the Republican party, I am not deluded enough to think it does not have its flaws. If I could create a party, it would have the moral platform of the R's and the 'for-the-working-man' mentality of the D's. But alas, there is no such party so, my interpretation of Scripture is that I am obligated to vote what will profit morally over financially.

Again, that is my opinion and I'm as entitled to it as you are yours. I'm not asking you to ascribe to it. I didn't say, "Hey everybody, I vote Republican and so should you!" If I don't approve of your vote, who cares? What power do I have over you? But, does your opinion mean so much that I would be called 'tacky' if I don't agree with it? Should my Christian ministry be called to account because I gave myself a label? Should I come to your blog and call you a name or question your ministry-effectiveness? No. I prefer to happily disagree.

And then go have a Starbucks together.

I realize the Republicans can lack morals. But, and this may sound completely stupid but I know what I mean, at least they don't publicly support abomination. When I judge morality, it is through the lens of what Scripture refers to as heinous sin. The murder of children is abhorrent as is homosexuality (Romans 1). (Does that mean I am a hater? NO! I have friends in this lifestyle. I don't approve of their actions, but I deeply love them as individuals.) Refusing to acknowledge God as creator of all and then removing Him from our education and governmental system is reprehensible. The National Democratic Party is by and large a supporter of all these actions. Do any of our well-known, conservative Bible teachers, evangelists, pastors support the Democratic party? Not that I know of. So, who are it's high-profile supporters? Movie actors and New Age philosophers, that's who. As a Christian, I will never cast my lot with a group of people who do not even blush when supporting these views. If my opinion riles you enough to resort to name-calling, then I can assure there are many other blogs out there that will please you much more.

I also must point out that many local-government Democrats do not ascribe to the National Party left-wing activism. In no way, shape, or form do I think any of the Democrats sitting in our church pews are un-Christian. I do not teach my children to slur Democrats. My boy honestly had no idea what the word 'Democrat' meant and thought it sounded like something we shouldn't be saying. It was innocent. We all laughed.

You mad ones ought to try it some time.

The End.
____________________________________________________

So you may or may not have noticed I've been strangely silent in blogland lately. I still have a bazillion emails to answer (I'm getting to it, really!) and many more updates I want to do to my pretty new blog, but alas, the schedule has simply not allowed it.

I won't bore you with the details of the entire last week but I am proud to tell you that yesterday I played an integral role in the wonderful thing we call democracy.

You see, I have this friend named Jenny. (you have to pronounce it like Forrest Gump or it's no fun) Jen-nay is connected - a made girl you could say. Her family runs one of the local voting precincts and if, just if, you are lucky enough - they will call you if they need an extra poll clerk. At least until they figure out that you don't have the good sense to write down 13 names without getting them out of order.

Yeah. Sorry about that again, Mr. W.

It was a thrilling day really. We voted 34 people (I think that was the final count?) in 12 hours. Thankfully, I took a bag full of study material and my laptop so I could work on my book in between eating sour gummy worms and watching Jenny measure things with her handy dandy ruler. I was really excited to discover her nose was longer than mine only to later be crushed when she hinted that maybe she just told me that so I could get over thinking I look like a platypus.

What a great friend that girl is.

But not the greatest friend, because clearly that title belongs to Lorie the Illustrious Postmaster. I told y'all I live in a small town so it should come as no surprise that all of our BFF circles include Major Town Players.

And Lorie? She is M-A-J-O-R. You are a nobody if she hasn't invited you to her Princess House parties.

That she hosts for Jenny I might add.

But that is beside the point.

All I'm really trying to do is get around to telling y'all about Son Number Three.

Luke brought the kids by to say hello while I was working. Each of us clerks are supposed to refrain from talking about our political party preferences so as not to intimidate the voters - an oath that is easier taken than kept. While Boy Three was standing there, Jenny asked a voter what party ticket they needed and the person said, "Democrat".

Boy Three spoke up and said, "Democrat! What does that mean? Sounds like a dirty word to me!"

I was proud. Proud indeed.

"Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old......... "

....he will vote Republican.

Y'all are stinkin' hilarious!

Literally.

I felt it necessary to interject here and say I don't believe any of us chooses not to bathe out of willful neglect. (This is where you'll want to scroll to the previous post if you have no clue what I'm talking about.) Will you agree that there are those windows of opportunity that present themselves and if you find yourself missing them, well then you're just out of luck for a few hours?

For example, I normally get up by 6:30 every morning. I read my devotion/bible study (currently Power of a Praying Woman) and then go for a run/walk around 7:30. Luke likes to be at the church by 8:30-9:00 so I do my thing at the park and get home in time for him to leave. My goal is to be showered by 10 am. But, what if the kids get up about this time and want breakfast? And then the phone rings? And then I need to throw in a load of laundry right before the phone rings again? And then I have to get my morning bloggin' in?

Before ya know it, it's noon. Am I talking to anybody?

So I could solve this by getting up earlier but the thing is - I don't want to.

So there.

All of that to say I used to be a crazy schedule girl. When my first two kids were babies/preschoolers I would, hand to my heart, WAKE THEM UP if they weren't out of the bed and having breakfast by 8:30 a.m. because it would throw our whole morning routine for them to sleep late. I remember my mother telling me, "You are NUTS! I never woke any of you girls up until you were in school." And I thought to myself, "Tisk, Tisk, Mom. No advice needed. I've got this mommy thing under control."

Control being the key word.

(And by the way, mom. You were right. I was insane. I'm making up for it now though by letting them sleep 'til noon.)

Back in the day I had two charts on my refrigerator. One with all my daily cleaning responsibilities and one with my hourly ones. HOURLY, people. And do you know what?

I was driving myself nuts.

If my schedule fell apart, I fell apart. I didn't leave the house unless the beds were made which meant I rarely left. And heaven help if a friend wanted me to go somewhere during a nap time. "No, thank you. We mustn't disrupt the little darlings' sleep." And though I thought I was controlling their little lives, it really turned out they were controlling mine. I'm telling you girls, their little psyches soak that up. If it's been established from day one they are kings and queens of mommy and daddy's universe, when do you think the cut off day for that attitude will be? The answer? There won't be one without much wailing and gnashing of teeth from both sides. One of the best pieces of parenting advice I ever received was to make sure our children knew they were a wonderful addition to our world but they were not its axis.

(Am I freaking y'all out yet?)

Obviously, I got over it. I realized my children would still be well-adjusted if he/she missed a nap from time to time. I learned it was worth the trouble to teach them to sit at a restaurant dinner table so we could go out with friends. And, I'll tell you like I tell Luke, cleaning house from daylight to dark is just not fun. I'd much rather take the kids to McDonald's or have lunch with a girlfriend than scrub baseboards. I'd rather get in my morning devotions than a morning shower. I'd rather be a happy wife and mom whose carpet hasn't been vacuumed than an a screaming meemie who can't bear for the kids to drag out their train set in the living room floor.

And I realize I may have just stepped in to a hot mess. Hear me well, my friends. If living by a schedule is something that works for your family, I'm not hating on your precious self. I'm not saying I don't love my kids or cater to them whenever its appropriate (and sometimes when it isn't) because of course, I do. I'm not saying it doesn't feel great to be showered early with the house straightened. I do strive to make an inviting home for my family but if they have to choose between nice home or nice mom - they pick the latter. My point here is that we should each do what makes us truly happy. If structure floats your boat, own it and sail that bad boy! What I do know is that there are a lot of women out there who pressure themselves to appear together and they are miserable doing it. I can say this because I was one of them. From experience I can tell you that kind of girl really just wants to know your car has chicken nuggets under the seats and your bathroom needs cleaning. There is much ministry in truth-telling.

As evidenced by the amazing number of you who outed yourselves about not bathing regularly.

So, go. Have fun today doing whatever it is that makes you happy. And if you do that thing in yoga pants and a ball cap?

Well that's all the better.

In honor of Mother's Day, instead of writing a tribute to my children, I think I'll just live one instead. So, I know you'll forgive me if I go bake some cookies and rescue the princess from three rogue superheroes who've turned to a life of crime.

I hope each and every one of you Moms have a day filled with a supreme sense of God's favor poured out on you in the form of little people. Personally, I can't think of a better way to be blessed. And if you aren't a mom, chances are you have one. Tell her you love her, even if it's hard.

And for those of you who grieve during this season? Jesus knows. Praying He comforts your heart as only one who dearly loved His own mother can.

Blessings on you this Lord's Day!