You Know I'm Bad, I'm Bad

Y'all.

First of all, it's been a sad day with the news of Michael Jackson's passing. His music was such a part of nearly all my growing up years and, though he was, well, different, he was terribly and undeniably gifted. There just aren't many artists that can carry a girl through her elementary, high school, college and young adult years. We've got quite a range of his music on our iPod - 1970s-2001. Also, not many people can sing a song like "Black or White" and actually be both black and white in one lifetime. So, MJ, your talent will be missed greatly. Thanks for singing such awesome songs to me all these years.

And now on to why I need help.

(What kind of segue was that?!)

I need to borrow a teenager next week.

In order to prepare myself for Young Life camp.

Because in a moment of insanity, I agreed to kiss my boys goodbye for ten days, take a 15 hour bus ride to Colorado and be a counselor to a cabin full of hormonal 10th grade girls.

And teen girls are well, different.

Teenagers scare the dickens out of me take some time to figure out and I think borrowing a teenager could be good practice for me. I was a teen once, but I didn't make sense to myself even when I was one.

We've had the fun experience of having my pre-teen cousin stay with us this week. The boys adore her and don't want her to return to Georgia in two weeks. Abbey's awesome. She's staying with my parents for a month and we had her stay with us a week to hang out and go to VBS with us. She's been so much fun.

I think I've figured out why Noah is so nuts about her.

He's a fan of anyone who will play Guitar Hero with him.

Anyway, she's been good experience for me. She's not a teen yet, but she hangs out with teens more than I do, so I've picked up a few things from her. I'm big on list making, so here's the list I've been working on all week.

What Is Cool (According to My Keen Observation of One Pre-Teen)
1. Fall Out Boy
2. Shrugging in response to almost everything
3. Having your bangs conceal half your face so that only one eye is visible at all times

Considering I've spent the past four days with her and this is all I've come up with, I think it's on to Plan B. And that is, I need to borrow your teenager.

I promise feed it and walk it and give it toys to play with. In exchange, it must teach me three or fourteen ways to be cool. Because I think going into camp with a little bit of cool might make me worthy enough to hang with for ten days.

I heard a camp type person use the word, "parental" yesterday. You can tell he's been hanging out with teens just because he used that word. It almost made me shudder because I realize I have a long way to go before I feel comfortable addressing Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So as "the Parentals." "So nice to meet you, Parentals. I'll be taking care of your child for the next ten days. Awesome. Booyah!"

Will these girls want to hang out with me? Will they want to share their deepest, darkest secrets, their crushes, their secret handshakes? Will we paint our nails together as we obsess over what bags to pair with our outfits tomorrow? Can we call each other "girl" as we start each sentence? (Why does it sound like I'm back in high school again?) Will we sit in the same room and send text messages to each other?

OMG! ROTFL! WWJD!

Brian thinks I'm worrying too much, but he's just so much more natural with teens. He likes the same music, understands their lingo and, the ultimate way to establish coolness, his name translates easily into a sweet nickname (Breeze). Me, I like preschoolers. They are real, they laugh at my jokes and they don't care what bag to wear with what outfit. Heck, I'm lucky if I can convince mine to wear clothes at all.

My neighbors can attest to that. One neighbor had the unfortunate experience of trying to have a serious conversation with me about missions work the other day when my two year old suddenly pranced out to join us, naked. Completely. AWSM.

Anyway, as much as I'd like to feel like part of the crew, I think I'll just have to accept that it's been a long, long time since my teen years and maybe I'm really just meant to be myself with them. Maybe they don't need another BFF, but maybe they just need to see a young mom trying to follow Jesus the best she can, raise her boys and love her husband well and maybe they just need an extra adult to love and encourage them.

And politely tell them to push their bangs out of their eyes.

If all else fails, maybe I'll just bust out my 1982 Thriller cassette tape and perform a solo rendition of the dance. That was cool during some decade of my life and I'm pretty sure it will make quite the impression on the girls.

They will then return to the Parentals, never to be the same.

LOL.

At First I Was Afraid, I Was Petrified

Now that Brian's back in town, I feel comfortable sharing with the internet that I was alone the last four nights.

I'm usually a very pragmatic person. I know the odds of anyone breaking into our house while I'm alone are small. We live in a relatively safe neighborhood, we have three dogs and I've had enough years of martial arts to know how to kick a man in his junk and make it count. Twice. And the funny thing is, I hardly ever fear a break-in when my family is here.

There's just something about being alone in an empty house. At night.

Oh, and watching back-to-back episodes of serial killer themed 48 Hours Mystery, including one on Son of Sam, probably wasn't helpful.

Ya think?

Neither was reading a friend's blog about her trip to New Orleans and the haunted places tour she went on.

I like to torture myself.

The first night, I stayed at a friend's house due to a broken A/C. The second night, I was back at home and that's when the genius in me decided to watch all these shows about serial killers. Suddenly, it felt like I'd hung neon signs advertising, "5'3 Woman Alone in House. With No Gun or Tasers. Y'all Criminals Come On In." Every window felt like there was someone lurking on the other side. Which, oddly, made me feel self conscious about how messy my house was and hoping they wouldn't notice. I have a fear of having people, even criminals, see my house in its normal state.

Good to know the OCD in me will never leave me nor forsake me.

I not only chain locked the front door, but I also set the house alarm when it was still daylight and I hardly ever do that. At bedtime, I locked our bedroom door and then, for good measure, barricaded it with a box of boys' clothes that are being prepared for attic storage. If someone were coming for me, they'd have to brave the vicious spit laden lickings jaws of the huge laborador retriever out back to get to my room.

I like to think I'm nowhere near a drama queen. Unless I'm alone in the house, then I don't care what I like to think I am.

I also took some comfort in knowing there are men across the street and next door who would come to my rescue if shrieking were in order. Because if something happened, there would definitely be shrieking.

How's that for a bunch of paranoia?

By night three, I was coming home from Bible study with a friend, Melissa. As she dropped me off, I shared my fears, admitting I was being ridiculously unnecessarily fearful. Still, she sweetly sat and listened to me share all the ways I fed that fear. The first thing she did well was to sit with me and listen. The second helpful thing she did was share Psalm 4:8, " I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety." And, if David could sleep when he knows his own son is out to kill him, then surely I could sleep knowing Son of Sam is in prison the odds are very little anything would happen.

But, what provided the most immediate relief was as we, sitting in a car at 10:15 at night, suddenly saw a band of three 11-year-old-ish boys come jogging out of the shadows and down the sidewalk. They were all without shirts and it was then I realized that if three young boys could run around half-clothed at night, I was probably going to be okay. It was just the comical relief I needed. Thank you, God.

The next thought I had of course, was wondering why in the world these boys were out training at 10:15! A man (their dad? coach? parole officer?) followed shortly behind them and I'm still wondering what in the world possesses a man to take his little boys out for a jog that late! It's summer, but still!

The Long Overdue Rundown from Our Trip to Colorado

In Colorado, I got to meet my youngest cousin, Demi...

Cheer on my cousin, Joey, as he stepped into wedded bliss...

Welcome my newest cousin, Jess, into the family...

Renew my respect for my Dad for always embracing and supporting my Mom's roots...

Watch our boys meet and play with their cousins of multicultural backgrounds...

And get their lean on in a Hummer...

Catch up with family and people I think of as family...

Gaze back in horror at the end of the ceremony to discover our boys gathering up the petals and throwing them in the air. (Thank goodness there were other little kiddos running around and Jess and Joey are laid back people.)

I had such a fun time traveling to and from Colorado with my dad and the boys. It was awesome to catch up on everyone's life and celebrate a new marriage.

And, what would any Asian gathering be without some of this?

Noah even gave in to his Korean roots.

We Up in Footlocker, I'm Looking Like I Need Those

I'm studying the book of Ruth with a sweet group of friends from my MOPS group. I'm so thankful Kelley M. decided to head up the summer study as it's usually such a time of distraction and busyness for me. It's good to have a group of women to be held accountable to. I also am excited to get to better know the woman whose famous words, even if you've never read the book, you've likely heard at a wedding..."Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried."

Sometimes I read through a passage so many times, I get in the habit of breezing through details. It's so much more fun, though, to stop and consider the cultural traditions, the purpose behind a law, the intention behind the events, etc., which is what a study gives you the chance to do.

Well, I just re-read the story of Ruth and became fascinated at the exchange between Boaz and the first-in-line relative. At the end of their discussion, the relative agrees to relinguish the right to the land and the right to marry Ruth. They seal the deal with the relative handing Boaz his sandal.

In those times, the giving of a shoe symbolized an agreement was made between the two parties. I began to wonder what it must've been like to walk home with just one shoe. I mean, if that were still a thing today, Brian wouldn't have even had to tell me if our offer on this house was accepted back in '01. I could've just watched for my hubby's feet to shuffle up the apartment driveway. Or, when the Cowboys made a last minute trade for Roy Williams last fall, would Jerry Jones have walked into Lawry's Steakhouse, single-shoed, and ordered up a steak to celebrate? Would Nelly still be stompin' in his Air Force Ones or in his Air Force One?

I know the times were different, but I still wonder. If you had to stop off at the local market to pick up beans for your wife's casserole, was everyone okay with you walking around in one shoe? Did Joseph of Arimathea's wife ever see her hubby come home single shoed and exclaim, "Dadgumit, Joe! What'd you do? Go off and give away our tomb again? Where am I supposed to be buried if you keep doing that?!"

Did you have a bunch of single shoes at your house or did you end up disposing of the remaining shoe? Were all sandals the same back then? I am assuming they didn't have a Footlocker in Bethlehem. Were they able to go out and buy a single matching shoe to replace the one promised away?

And what did the recipient do with the single sandal anyway? File it away in their desk? Did they write on it to distinguish which shoe legalized which agreement?

What do a bunch of shoes with no matches look like? Hmm...

I went straight to the cabinet by our front door. We store our shoes there in an attempt to keep things looking orderly and in an attempt to have our shoes all in the same place.

Still, I managed to find all these shoes with no matches.

It appears either my little fellas have a habit of stripping their shoes off outside/all over the house/your house/our car/your car/the store/the park/the pool or they've been making some preschool type trades. You know, "I'll give you my Scooby Doo slipper if you'll let me have some of your goldfish." Which may be a justifiable trade.

We love our goldfish.

33 ounces of pure delicious. Made with whole grain, mind you.

Out of curiosity, I dug around the shoe cabinet more.

I'll have to get back with you on JB's excuse...

Addendum: Since the author of the Ruth study commented on this blog post (Ack! How's my hair?!), I should mention the name of the series she wrote. She created the Coffee Cup Series and the book we're reading is Premium Roast with Ruth. Very cute book titles! And, I love the format of the series, daily readings where passages from the Bible are actually printed there in the study so there's no flipping back and forth between this and your Bible. Soooo convenient! I also love the spiral binding. Makes for such an easy way to bring this book with you and read it wherever. I read it while the boys I babysat today were sleeping! The author's name, BTW, is Sandra Glahn. Loving the study!

Passion Pit

Had a date with my honey to see Passion Pit at the Granada. I am not much of a concert enjoyer, but it’s one of Brian’s things, so we go. I much prefer free music at home. If I get a wild hair and want to see the band in action, I pop open youtube and watch. It’s crazy, I know. All for free, without the mind numbing standing around, loud people or the hour wait between acts as they switch out their equipment.

Yeesh, I sound old.

Brian likes to arrive at concerts early. I used to be down with that before my knees got creaky and before I turned 20. Still, we arrived at the Granada two hours before the opening act. That's one hour of merciless heat outdoors and one hour of standing in a dark room indoors. Fun times.

I think we upped the average age by 10 years. Or 20. And, since we don’t have spiked hair or wear our shorts down around our ankles, we did the only other thing that could make us fit in with a crowd of teens. We did what any elderly couple would do and rounded us up some chairs and spent the next hour firmly planted in them while we waited for the doors to open. And we talked about how the heat reminded us of the big heat wave of 1959. Then, Brian’s dentures got stuck in the Freebird’s burrito he was finishing up and it was then when we realized we were no longer hip. Here's our spot two hours before the concert.

It might be safe to say we'd fit in better with the Hal Ketchum crowd.

Part of our hour long wait outdoors included observations about how the crowd at Kirby’s Steakhouse on one block was probably different from the crowd at Condom Sense on another block within our view. I'm just guessing.

I decided to leave my ID in the car. When the bouncer asked for it, I just told him I'm 31. He searched my eyes to see if I was telling the truth. There was a time when I’d be asked to show ID and telling my age wasn’t enough. But, I guess as Bouncer Man searched my eyes, he found such depth of wisdom and strength of character that only 31 years of life can give you because he let me in without hesitation.

Either that, or the bags under my eyes that only 31 years of life can give you were a dead giveaway.

The opening acts were just okay. The first guy reminded me of the secretary bird on Bedknobs and Broomsticks with his jerky movements and his hair reminded me of Conan O’Brien. Don’t you just know the mom in me wanted to jump up there, lick my hand and give his hair a little momma pat down.

And, also spoon feed him a tub of lard and gently break the news that the tight roll was a regrettable fashion choice of the 80's and would do well to remain a distant memory of the 80's. He does have lovely ankles, though.

The thing that kills me the most about concerts is how long it takes to dismantle a set and then reset the stage for the next band. Ugh. We put people on the moon. Why does it take an hour to change sets?

And, in that hour wait, there isn't much to do unless you want to lose the spot you waited two hours to earn. So, you find yourself numbly staring at the screen flashing ads for upcoming concerts. After seeing the same ads multiple times, I finally started paying attention because what else do you do for the next 52 minutes of downtime? My favorite was for Peaches.

Two things about this ad. First, who doesn't want to experience Drums of Death? Second, I finally noticed that last line.

Nothing promises a good concert like sassy and sweaty done by a complex woman.

Passion Pit itself/themselves was/were really good.

I love how this guy looked like he just slipped out of bed and rolled with how his hair turned out.

But my kids do the same thing, so who am I to judge?

Maybe they learned that from Vanilla Ice their dad.

I actually did enjoy most of Passion Pit's music. It’s not the kind of music I usually listen to, but neither is Kidz Bop and I find myself listening to that almost daily. Nothing like hearing some prepubescent kid sing Superstar to me 154 times in a row. (Noah likes that repeat button).

Not only were the music and the company good, I walked away with some pretty sweet dance moves. This is just a snippet.



And those very well may have been worth being subjected to the tight roll, battling extreme boredom and lack of stimulation between sets and viewing 179 Peaches ads.

401 K, Shmore 01K. IRA, I Thumb My Nose At You.

When I was pregnant with Noah and I found out we were having a boy, I began to pray, among many things, that my little one would be determined. I wanted my son to get after it and be a leader in his home, his community and his work. This prayer showed evidence of being answered the first time Noah started crawling - at five months of age. It became pretty clear early on that Noah isn't one to ever back down from a challenge. I mean, the boy will eat if you just tell him "so and so eats this and can cross the monkey bars as a result." He will down ginseng like it's koolaid just because his friend does it and Noah will not be bested by anyone. And, have you smelled the stuff? It's good for a number of things, but definitely not the olfactory system. He loves learning and, by gosh, all that busyness doesn't leave much time for sitting still.

Along came Lil T and, when I was pregnant with him, I prayed for a number of manly qualities. But there was also a Mommy part of me that wanted a baby who would actually sit in my lap and cuddle. So, I prayed for a snuggle bug and, boy, did I get one. This is my little lover boy. From a young age, he has always wanted to be in my lap, be picked up or hold my hand. One of my favorite questions of his is, "Mommy, can you hold my hand?" I love how he pats my back when he hugs and how he plays with my hair when I pick him up. He wants eye contact, he wants your face to be turned toward his when he's speaking to you, he loves to hug dogs, kitties and anything plush (like his M&M eating momma).

The point of this entry is this, I learn quick. This life lesson didn't fly over my head. For my next pregnancy, I'll be praying for these qualities...

Not the cau-bla-sian part of the pic (because I make my babies Jon and Kate Plus 8 style - three parts white and one part Asian). No, I am praying for those natural athletic skills! PGA, NBA, NFL...I'm not too picky.

Because, hey, this stay at home momma and her teacher hubby gotta retire someday. And, I prefer to retire in a castle like this woman...

Instead of in a van down by the river like this guy...

Hair

Hey, Hair Guy. Thank you for cutting my hair and giving it some much needed oomph. Brian likes it and says it’s my Jon and Kate haircut. It’s angled into a bob similar to hers, without the spikes. Or the sass. You did well and it’ll be an easy summer ‘do to manage. I do have one little issue to settle with you.

Hair Guy was in the middle of cutting my hair when he suddenly announced I have white hair. Honesty is charming, but so is tact. Based on how he delivered this piece of news, I imagined Cruella De Vil had climbed up into my hair and died there.
So, I freaked out a little calmly asked how many. Hair Guy then announced, “Two or three.”

Oh, really, Cheeky Hair Guy? 'Cause I’m not dropping that extra $50 for you to color two or three strands of hair.

In honor of your snafu, a haiku…

If you see white hairs
Next time specify how much
Before my heart stops.

And, now, a haiku for my white hairs…

Two or three white hairs
Taking over my life head
Ha ha, now you’re red.

Yep, nothing a little Revlon color in a box couldn’t handle.

Rocky Mountain High

We are in Colorado for my cousin, Joey’s, wedding. Dad, Noah, Tyler and I loaded into the car, dropped Mom off at the airport and headed northwest. Mom got an airline ticket weeks ago when we weren’t sure the rest of us could go. Aside from it also being better for her recently injured back, she had to get there early to help with last minute wedding plans. Brian is heading to Xtreme Camp with our church youth this weekend. So, it was just the four of us making the trek to the mountains.

We chose the route that took us through Oklahoma and Kansas. The mileage is a little longer than going through New Mexico, but we were told it would shave an hour off our drive. Nothing gets you in the mood for mountainous terrain like driving past endless wheat fields. I think that's what kept Lewis and Clark going - the promise of what was ahead. Dear Kansas, you gave me my college roommate and Wizard of Oz, but that's about all you can boast. And, Oklahoma, thank you for your zoo, your Bricktown and for giving us our puppy, Barkley. I mean, it’s gorgeous land. There just isn’t anything to keep you entertained. My dad could only distract me with “Hey, look at those cows!” the first 17 times.

We did find the wind power in Kansas fascinating, though. It looked like a little alien city with all these windmills dotting the landscape.


I lost track of how many times we stopped, but I think it consisted of two meal stops and 46 potty stops. (Special shout out to T for pooping in the potty, by the way!) Now that we're nearly out of the diaper phase, we may be investing in Depends to get us through long drives like this.

I love my Dad. Some people like to take advantage of drive throughs and some people don't. Based on the fact it took us 16 hours to get to CO and 13 of those were actual driving, I'll let you decide what category my Dad falls into. (I love you, Dad.) And, to be fair, he'd just gotten back from work in The Czech Republic about 40 hours before. So, yeah, the multiple stops were probably what he needed. Not to mention we had two small bladders on board and their aim isn't good enough for tee tee jugs yet.

This was our first stop, a picnic, at the Oklahoma welcome center.

The boys had fun. They got to look at bugs...

and play with sticks while drinking yogurt and getting their lean on.

Little did they know they were in for 15 more hours of car time.

Incidentally, I think someone should let the authorities know about this tip scribbled on the park bench.

We passed the time with 11 library books, snacks, activity books, Tom and Jerry and Finding Nemo DVDs and a 30 second attempt at listening to Swiss Family Robinson on CD. That was for Dad and me. Until I realized that a British voice speaking in monotone isn't good keep-Dad-awake-while-he's-driving audio. And, some of us napped.

Thank goodness. Did I mention it was a 16 hour trip?

So now we’re in Colorado. We pulled into the Hyatt around 2:40 a.m. Texas time. I like this Colorado. We lived here for 11 months when my Dad was stationed at Peterson AFB. While it’s somewhat different from my southern roots, I still love the mountain views and having four seasons. Most of all, it’s good to see my cousins again and meet two little ones who’ve been born since the last trip here. Noah and Tyler are also getting their first introductions to a lot of my Korean extended family. They are in for some yummo Korean food, some pinching of cheeks and, very likely, some karaoke. It's fun. There will be pics.

P.S. I love my Dad.