the SON shines

Where My Mary Poppins At?

2012-01-17T11:34:00.009-06:00

We got our visas!!!!

What I meant to say was,

"WE GOT OUR VISAAAAAAAAAAS!!!!"

They only took three times longer to get here than we expected but they are HERE.

Now that we have those, it's pack mania over here. Packing a family of five into ten checked bags and five carry on bags is proving to be quite a task. Summer and winter clothes are going, as are a handful of toys per child, books, board games, my favorite garlic dicing gizmo...these...

I feel like Melatonin ought to come with a little halo above it.

Then there are items to help with my germaphobia.

I know, I know. I realize I'm going to live on a FARM with CATTLE right outside my window so I need to ease up on the germaphobia. But, between here and there, there are these things called airplane lavatories. Also known as The Birthplace of Germs.

Which is why this sight of this in the Walmart aisle almost made me clap my hands and cry tears of joy.

It is seriously so special to me, it deserves its own portrait sitting.

And a halo.

Now, if I can just find lysol in a TSA regulation size 3.4 oz aerosol can so I can prep the seat for the seat covers, I'll really feel complete.

As far as packing goes, I find myself wishing for one of those Mary Poppins carpetbags. Or ten. And the snapping thing to clean house would also be nice. But since I don't have the spiritual gift of snapping things into place, I'll just be stuffing things into every nook and cranny of our suitcases and praying for less than the 50 lb. mark.

Considering, in the last week, two friends in SA have thought it wise to mention some things in their Facebook statuses (THAT I READ), namely, two snakes and the abundance of bugs in Africa, I can tell you some toys that will NOT be making the trip with us...

Those spiders have nearly done me in a few times as Tyler left them out after playing. They are just a little too real looking. As for the black snake, there may or may not have been a time Brian and I stared into a tree for a full five minutes, trying to figure out if it was a real snake. Once Brian worked up the nerve to flick it onto the ground, I still wasn't convinced until I read "Made in China" on its belly.

Thank you, China, for the near heart failure.

So, there's the update. We'll let you know when we fly! For now, it's time to get back to packing and channeling my inner Mary Poppins as I repeatedly chant,

“In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and ‘snap’, the job’s a game.”

4 a.m.

2012-01-01T04:00:00.001-06:00

Sometimes...

I am this ball of nerves.

And I catch myself desperately gripping my pillow with cold, stiff fingers, breaths coming in short pants.

And I pray to remember that God will help me with each minute, each breath...that I can do this.

Because He will go with us.

When I was young and the military moved us across state lines and oceans, into new cultures and countries, I always felt safe because I trusted my parents to take care of me.

Now I am the parent.

And, Lord, I pray my kids feel that same security. Please give me the courage and wisdom to protect them and make them feel safe.

Sometimes...

The soon to be single digit countdown overwhelms me.

Is this really happening? Can we get everything done in time? Is life as we know it really about to end?

This ability to jump in the car and drive a short distance to grab lunch with my mom? Going to a doctor for simple things where I can go anytime? Dropping kids off in the carpool lane? Not falling asleep thinking of how to teach the kids to evade black mambas?

Oh, Lord, when I have these moments when my airway constricts and tears flow, give me courage.

Give me vision to see past the hard part of saying goodbye to people and places we love and are comforted by.

Give me faith to see that there will be times when this can and only will be doable minute to minute and even breath to breath.

Sometimes,

I need to remember that child inside me is not too far gone. I still long for comfort, to know I have a parent in control who is taking care of me, taking care of the details.

Lord, in those moments, let me remember that

When I am weak, You are strong,

That You will go with us,

All times.

Amen.

The Update That Finally Was

2011-12-19T22:48:00.005-06:00

Many months ago, before we realized we owned The House That Wouldn't Close, we never dreamed we'd still be here about to celebrate Christmas. We thought we'd surely have experienced our first October spring in South Africa, which is not that different from October autumn in Texas. Both have weather that can't make up its mind. (Seriously, this was The Summer That Wouldn't Quit Us, was it not?) We were itching to get going, believing we'd deploy in September, then October, surely November...okay, January, it is.

Alas, The House That Wouldn't Close.

God's timing is not always our own (I've heard that once or twice) and, it turns out, this period of time is exactly what we needed. The extra time has allowed us to serve here, whether through outreach programs at church, prison ministry or in the boys' school. In addition, it's given us a chance to catch our breath. We did not realize until after all the hustle and bustle of getting the house ready, having it on the market and then waiting for it to close, how much we needed this time of rest and rejuvenation before we head out. So, though we couldn't have guessed it six months ago and we couldn't understand it one month ago, God's timing has been good and right and just what we needed.

As always.

And then The House That Wouldn't Close finally did the day before Thanksgiving.

Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

HA-LE-LU-JAH.

AMEN.

I should probably mention here that we have plane tickets purchased and we leave January 12^th. (YIPPEEEEE!!!) While we are thrilled out of our socks to have reached this point, we may very well come out on the other end of that plane ride with a lot of newly developed perseverance if James 1:2-4 holds true. In fact, y'all can go right ahead and pray over that nearly 24 hours of travel, pretty please. Ick. Did I mention the kids are traveling with us? Melatonin, anyone? Dramamine? Benadryl?

OhdearLordhavemercyonoursoulsandallthesoulsseatedaroundusandgoaheadandblessthecabin crew,too,andpleasedon'tletthekidshavetogotothebathroomonthatflightatallbecausebathroomsand turbulenceandmygermaphobiadon'tgowelltogetheratall,ever.

Amen.

And, so, as we come off a season of thanksgiving a few weeks ago, we are counting our blessings. We are thankful for all those who have listened, prayed with and encouraged us through this entire 13 month process. We are grateful for the life and health of loved ones. We are so blessed by the family who is letting us live in this apartment rent-free so the kids could finish the semester.

We could never repay all those who helped us get to this point, including all of those who gave their time, talents and energy to prep our house for the market all the way to those who finished scrubbing shower doors and mopping floors a half hour before we handed the keys over to the new owner. It is ridiculous (in a positive way) the way our friends and church stepped up. Everything from repairing fences and installing floors, to yardwork, to repairing our A/C, to doing our laundry to providing meals to painting to steaming carpets...it is UNBELIEVABLE and so very humbling.

We are also thankful for God's provision through other believers who are able to partner with us financially. I'm not sure I've ever worshipped God in a grocery store before, but, it struck me a few weeks ago, as I stood in the cereal aisle and looked down at my cart, that I couldn't even feed my family if it weren't for the support of friends. The way to a mama's heart is her kids' stomach and I can't tell you what a powerful moment that was to stand there and see such tangible blessings because God works through His body of believers to provide for us. It made me tear up there in that aisle and it makes me tear up sharing this with you. Seriously, thank you for the gift of helping us feed our family.

In short, you guys are really, really good at making people feel loved. And really, really good at being the Church God intended. Really, there is no way to thank all of you who have given and given and given as you could to get us to this point. Body of Christ in action. We are so blessed and so touched and so grateful. And so ready to get to work so, with God's blessing, you can see what your giving produces!

We end this note with hearts so full and wishing you and your family the warmest and merriest Christmas. There is so much to be thankful for. Most of all, believing that

The Son Shines,

Brian, Jen, Noah, Tyler and Anniston Joy

P.S. Please keep your prayers going! Please pray for health for all family members so we can enjoy Christmas with all our loved ones. Please pray for travel safety as we are on the road a lot the next few weeks. Please pray for the kids as they transition to their new home. They have ROCKED it so far! Please pray for our families as we say goodbye. This isn't easy on any of us and, though it's never supposed to be easy to move overseas, please pray for precious time. Please pray for political stability in SA. Please pray for us to wrap up final details (like visas) without a hitch. And, if I didn't make it clear enough earlier, y'all can go right ahead and pray over that nearly 24 hours of travel, pretty please!!

P.P.S. FBC's missionary page is under construction. If you would like to join the adventure with us with either a year end gift or through monthly partnership, you can go to:

www.fbcmckinney.com

Under “Connect”, click on “Missional Life”

Under “Missionaries”, click on “Support missional life”

Enter your username/password or create one if you haven't before

Select TYW08 (our account) from the drop down menu.

Thank you SO much for partnering with us in this way as well!

P.P.P.S. Boy, I should've just kept going with the letter! Last post-script, I promise. :) I am thankful for the reminder last week as I looked at pictures and heard updates on kids in South Africa that two dear friends just spent time with. It was such a great reminder of who we're going to serve over there. There are a bunch of kids we love from afar and can't wait to love in person! Praying you'll get to come meet and fall in love with them as well! You'll be forever changed!

School Socks

2011-09-12T08:20:00.012-05:00

Last year, we began the tradition of "School Socks" to celebrate the first day of school. And, yes, I did stick with calling them that since, well, it is school and they are socks. And, the alliteration.

Alliteration always adds an amusing aspect.

Anyway, here is how they went down this year.

I love surprises! The boys closed their eyes with great anticipation.

While the boys' eyes were closed, Anniston saw an opportunity and the kleptomania in her came out.

She tried to make a run for it but was stopped at the door. She wishes she hadn't been so obvious carting the stolen goods away. And that diapers had pockets.

The hands-down favorite item was candy with a laster pointer that made shapes. Tyler's was a dancing lizard and Noah's was a fighter jet. $1, people. $1 for hours of fun AND a lollipop.

And Annie Girl even got to eat some Goldfish after all!

Getting Goldfish gives a girl a great reason to go good.

Changes...They Are A'Comin'!

2011-08-06T21:54:00.006-05:00

So maybe you noticed the blog has been out of sorts...since April 1st. I've had lots to share but have kept quiet because, well, SOUTH AFRICA. Which means getting the house on the market (tiling, laying new sod and new carpet, painting, purging, packing, blah...), raising support, spending time with family (a trip to Kanakuk Kamps, my brother came here for a week and we spent a week with Brian's family in Red River), visas, passports and a whole lot of whatnot. I kept thinking things would slow down and I would have time to blog after the garage sale...or when school ended...or once we cleaned the garage...or once we got the house on the market...

You get my drift.

All that to say, I've made myself stay off here because I can get lost in writing and this summer was really not the time to get lost in anything but the website of South Africa's Home Affairs, trying to figure out visa bureaucracy.

Aside from the triple digit heat that won't quit us, nothing has made me feel more like I was in hell than that website.

I jest, of course.

Sort of.

But as we are spreading the word about our move, this blog address gets published and then people come and they see that the latest and greatest news in our life is imaginary bats.

So I thought I'd drop a little post on here to explain some things.

First, I went batty on April 1st but I didn't go dead.

Second, my sweet friend, Kim, won a blog makeover. And then she generously turned that makeover to me. So, before you know it, this blog is going to get herself a new look.

The good news (for me, at least) is that I expect to get back to writing once the house sells...or once we get rid of everything except what will fit in 10 suitcases...or when school starts again...

You get my drift.

Stay tuned!!!

Going Batty.

2011-04-01T19:30:00.003-05:00

Snapped some awesome pics of some special visitors! Check out the pics below...

From a friend's FB wall

From outside our window. I'm thinking there are about 200-300!

They are EVERYWHERE!

And, finally...

APRIL FOOLS!!!!!

This prank delivered to you by the rockstar girls of my Bible Fellowship Group!! :) We are clearly either clever or going batty due to motherhood and this is the kind of thing that keeps us going.

(Happy April 1st).

Aching to Be Older

2011-02-15T23:39:00.005-06:00

Dearest Tyler,

Today, you made me some promises. And, since you are four (and a half), I am documenting them here because I plan on claiming these promises for about the next five, ten, fifty years.

Today, you were not so happy you are not yet in kindergarten. You express your utter disdain for that fact every single week. It is one of many elements of your life with which you get disgusted. I get it. Kindergarten sounds so fun when Noah talks about parties, bingo nights and all the fun things he gets to do. At least once a week when we drop Noah off, I get to hear you, very indignantly, state that you are going when you are five.

Today, I tried to offer some solace by telling you how very grateful I am that you're four (and a half). I told you that I'll be sad when you're all grown up because there will come a day when you won't fit in my lap anymore. To which you made your first promise...

Even if I can't fit in your lap anymore, I will still kiss and hug you, Mommy.

And then this string of promises...

I will still see saw with you.

I will still draw you pictures. And drawings of hearts.

And I'll still draw you snowballs. If we get white paper.

Today, you made me the best promises a four (and a half) year old can make a Mommy.

Someday, I'll hold you to them.

Especially the kisses and hugs part.

And maybe even the see saw part.

Fastest Mind in the West

2011-01-15T17:25:00.003-06:00

I hear too many great conversations to let them slip by. So here is a new label called, "Conversations of Note" to help me remember these someday when I'm rocking in a chair at the old folks' home and need a good chuckle and a reminder of what the good ol' days were like.

Dad had gathered boxes for our upcoming move. As he loaded them into the van, he said, "This is a good one for your records."

I tried to think of a gentle way to break the news to him as I leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Dad, they're called CDs now."

To which he replied, "I meant your financial records."

Fast thinking on your feet, Dad!

2010-12-18T23:31:00.006-06:00

A few years ago, a friend shared a very helpful way to keep from being overwhelmed by all the artwork the boys create. Because, seriously, between MOPS, church, school and just playing at home, the boys create a lot of masterpieces. Sometimes I actually wish they'd station a recycle bin by the exit doors so parents can discreetly leave some of the fistfuls of papers we get every week (our minivan wishes that, too). While we are faithful to give each piece of art the ooh's and aah's it's due and while we truly are touched by and proud of the effort put into them, it would be pretty well impossible to keep each and every one.

Instead, Brenna's strategy is to keep the most special pieces and take pictures of the others before tossing them.

Anyhow, I'm sharing some personal favorites (that I'm keeping) from recent weeks.

First, here's a photo of some "flowers" Tyler picked for me. The Homeowner's Association is all for "Show Your Mom You Love Her by Picking Her a Weed." I totally love my weed.

The boys love Chuck E. Cheese's photo booths. The problem is the pictures fade within weeks because of the poor ink they use. Tyler has one pretty standard face he makes when getting his picture taken. I simply couldn't let this darling photo fade into history.

Sometimes Noah practices his spelling on construction paper...

That would be his version of "buttocks."

Noah fondly recalls the camping trip we took with some friends.

This is Kennedy, Kendyl and Noah (Tyler is nowhere to be seen because that's how fondly Noah recalls Tyler) dancing to Boom Boom Pow.

And here is a gem Tyler colored. He told me he drew a picture of me and I was so touched because he drew those red roses and hearts to show me what a very loving and loveable Mommy I am.

And then he set me straight and told me, "This is a picture of you yelling when we are being naughty."

I guess if the gigantic red fireball coming out of my head wasn't clear, the crazy eyes should've been a dead giveaway.

But then there are really tender emotions expressed in art and they make up for all the naughty behavior...

And, once in a blue moon, your child may start out writing a letter to one of his grandmothers and instead turn it into a note to you because you let him help you cook dinner.

Radical is Radical

2010-12-13T00:07:00.004-06:00

So I'm finally reading Radical.

Wow.

Ouch.

And, wow, again.

I decided a hot bath with chapter four would be relaxing and get me closer to achieving my goal of finishing one book this season.

Why is it that being a mom suddenly means I no longer finish books?

As a side note, let me just mention I've learned that Radical isn't a book you take to the tub if you intend to relax your mind. Nor is it a book to grab if you are hoping for someone named Calgon to take you away.

Instead, you might find yourself sitting upright, vigorously scrubbing away layers of both dead and live skin cells and hair follicles as you suddenly feel the need to run 42 miles except that it is 11:30 p.m. and you are naked because you are in the tub. Also, it is 33 degrees because Texas has finally realized it is DECEMBER. So, instead, you get all that energy gained from, "This book gets it!" and you turn it into exfoliating to the fifth layer of the epidermis (yes, I wikipedia'd that).

And then you might find yourself so connected to the book you start adding your own notes to the front and back covers of the book because the words are just pouring out of your heart. You don't even have to think.

So here is what I wrote (and more...because you know I'm wordy)...

So many years of restlessness. A deep-seated desire for there to be more. I was following "the plan" for my life. And I was happy. College degreed, married, living in the suburbs, going to church, having kids, etc. But something didn't sit right. Was I going to get to heaven and go, "Well, what was all that about?" Was I going to be hanging out with James at the banquet table and say, "Man, that was a great life. I tried not to sin, I forgave others, I cried for starving babies on t.v., I taught Sunday school and, get this, Jim...I even went on some MISSION TRIPS. I lived to be pretty old but I could still take my grandkids skiing. And, then I DIED IN MY SLEEP because that is the American Dream right there. Pretty sweet, huh?"

Awkward pause because James is just so in awe of the awesomeness of my life. To help him out, I ask, "So...how did you go, Jim? What was that? You died by the sword? Like a beheading?"

My turn to deliver the awkward pause.

Then I turn to my left and there is Abednego. And I can't really make conversation with him because, HELLO, he walked into FLAMES for God.

Thankfully, Luke is across the table and I know this guy was a doctor. I just know he owned my dream house on a lake. And Andrew is next to him. I remember something about him fishing and dropping his nets or something. I'm gonna guess he got some good fishing in once he retired from following Jesus.

But, seriously, when I think about the end of my life and I ask, "What was that all about?" I don't want to have missed the point. I spent many years feeling like, somehow, something told me life as I knew it wasn't it. There had to be more. We've got one life to live. Shouldn't there be more to it than the stuff?

But it couldn't just be that I had some need to be some kind of awesome. To live on the edge just so I could stand a little taller at the judgement seat or so I could feel important and have "an identity." A "legacy."

No, it can't be about me and simply filling a need for my life to count.

Instead, it's gotta be about His glory and His purpose. If everything is made FOR Him, then I am grouped in there. He sets eternity in the hearts of men. We all have that itch to do something with our lives. We all have that deep-seated something that says, "There's something much bigger than living and then dying."

I used to have a "go with the flow" attitude toward the American Dream. To do what was expected, to get to enjoy comfort, family and security.

No more.

I want to get to heaven and be able to say, "A-HA."

"So that's what that was all about."

Promises Kept

2010-11-13T00:39:00.011-06:00

Three times I have been to South Africa.

Three times I had to kiss my babies and my husband goodbye.

Three times my heart felt like it was ripped out as I drove away from the ones I love most.

My first trip, Noah was three and Tyler was one. I went back one year later. My last trip, in January, Noah was five and Tyler was three. Anniston was weeks old inside me and I was excited to know at least one of my children was going with me.

The first time I had to walk into my boys' dark rooms to kiss them goodbye, they stayed asleep. Watching them breath in and out, Noah in his big boy bed and Tyler in his crib, and praying fervent prayers for them before I walked away was one of the hardest things I've done as a Mom. That first trip, Brian held me in the living room as I bawled and said, "I can't do this."

But I did. And they did.

And then I went back for more one year later. That time, the boys stayed overnight at my parents' house since Brian had to work. I left a letter for them to read when they woke, but Tyler woke up before I was able to leave. I remember his small body on my Mom's back as my Dad and I pulled out of the driveway and headed to the airport.

This last trip, by far, was the hardest. Three times is a lot of times to leave your children for ten days and go halfway around the world. This year, they were old enough to know what what happening. Tyler remained asleep in the bottom bunk while Noah stirred the moment I walked in their room. Noah is the hardest sleeper so I knew his anxiety made him easily awakened. Brian held him as friends picked me up to take me to the church. I heard him yell out, "I love you, Mommy!" as I watched him cry in his daddy's arms.

This time, when I got home, I hugged Noah and vowed, "I will never go to South Africa again without you." I surprised myself with that statement because it's pretty bold to say in light of the fact that my plans don't always align with God's. I had a small moment of, "Uhhhh, now what am I going to do if God calls me back and I've also made this promise?"

Well, it turns out that is a worry I no longer have to hold. Because this time, as I go back, I will indeed be going with Noah. And Tyler and Anniston and Brian.

And I will be fulfilling a childhood dream about 30 years early.

Because it looks like we have a move in our very near future.

I'm sure it would take a book to explain how we got to this point (with all my wordiness, it probably feels like you've been reading one!). But what we're sharing today is that we have a very real calling to go to South Africa next year. Likely, late summer. Brian is going on a scouting trip in January to, hopefully, gain some clarity on where we're moving.

Someday I'll try to share the process God took us through to get here. It boils down to this...we opened our hands and released the things we held so tightly to and surrendered. I don't know that I'm bold enough to say we truly surrendered all, but we've surrendered this part of our lives. All to Him, our blessed Savior. While there are so many unknowns, months of training ahead and peace still needed for our families, we have been astounded by the peace God's given us.

Because, along with the promise He's allowing me to keep with Noah, He's made some promises, too.

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5,6

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:29

My grace is sufficient for thee, for My strength is made perfect in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9
Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass. 1 Thessalonians 5:24

We're so thankful for His promises and to know His plans for us are good.

Jeremiah 29:11

A is for "Apple." B is for "Buttalks."

2010-10-15T01:04:00.006-05:00

There is that phrase, "All I need to know about life, I learned in kindergarten."

Hot dog. It's proving to be true.

And then some.

Noah has come home with all kinds of new words lately.

A couple weekends ago, we went camping with some friends. And, in the midst of all our getting back to nature activities like dancing to Boom, Boom Pow (blaring from the speakers attached to the MP3 player) and playing Go Fish, I hear Noah say something to Kendyl about, "my Mom." As in, not "Mommy." Just "Mom." As in, he's suddenly too cool to be my baby. I am secretly licking my "I Want to be Mommy for Awhile Longer" wounds when I hear him say something like, "Give it to Jen."

So now the six year old and his "Mom" are on a first name basis.

Wounded.

We are a few weeks into kinder when Noah trots through the door one day and announces, with a little too much gleam in his eyes, that he needed to "take a wizz." Kid, I realize as I type this, I don't even know if wizz is spelled wizz, whiz or wiz. But, it turns out, "Jen" is not cool with the phrase, "take a wizz."

Then there was something about, "I can fit my butt in my mouth." And though I'd like to think I have a sense of humor, I'd also like to think that "butt" of his isn't so small it can't be swatted because he knows a line has been crossed. Oh, the boy knows. I see the gleam in his eyes. I see right through you, Noah Jack.

So, yes, we have had some nice Jen and Son convos about choosing good words and not repeating everything others say, etc., etc.

I have a feeling we'll be having these conversations for the next 12 years.

Then there are some things that just go with boyhood that I'm, oddly, finding myself okay with.

Take, for instance, the armpit toot.

Noah came home one day, hand in his armpit, pumping his elbow up and down so fiercely I almost called him derrick and checked for oil. It was fruitless labor as he didn't quite have the proper technique to achieve what he was working toward. That is one of those delicate balances where much more can be achieved with much less effort. Sort of like whistling. You wouldn't get a good whistle by blowing with too much force.

Did I just devote an entire paragraph to the art of the armpit toot?

Why, yes. Yes, I did.

Did I ever in my life expect to string together the words, "the art of the armpit toot?"

Why, no. No, I didn't.

But, it turns out, I'm the "Mom" of two boys and, I'm sorry, but when your kid is sitting in the tub and he looks up at you with big, sweet brown eyes and sincerely asks, "Mommy, can you teach me how to do armpit farts?" how can you say no? I felt like I'd be letting him down if he couldn't join in the playground symphony of the armpits. There are just some things a boy ought to know, I suppose.

So, a few weeks into kinder, I find myself in an out of body experience as I take a deep breath, place my hand under my shirt, cup it over my armpit and do my best to demonstrate. And to take this to a new level of surreal, I am actually adjusting and readjusting his hand over his armpit and encouraging him to never give up because, "you just have to practice and I know you'll get it, buddy."

Out. of. body. experience.

The problem is (there are so many problems with this), I've never in my life actually been able to produce an armpit toot. I just know of the ideal hand placement and I do all I can to talk him through it. I find myself the next day actually encouraging Brian to get in there and show Noah how it's done.

And, I feel I must add, Noah conquered the art of the armpit toot within 24 hours.

Pride. It's right here. In Jen's heart.

Two nights ago, I wanted to spend some one on one time with Noah. He'd had such a great evening and I was looking forward to reading to and just hanging out with him. We were shoulder to shoulder as he listened intently to the story of the blind man healed by Jesus in John 9. I tried to make the story come alive as we pictured together how it must've been before and after the man's healing. We imagined Jesus spitting into the dirt and creating a clay to place on the man's eyes. And, man, what it must've been like to see for the first time. Ooh, such good, good stuff.

As that story finished, Noah asked me to tell him a "fiction" story. So, I weaved together a tale of a sapling who, year after year, grew more jealous of all the things around him that were taller...the grass, the weeds and the flowers. And in the end, while the sapling so longed to be like the things around him, what he didn't realize was that his roots were deeper and stronger and how it's so much more important for what's unseen to grow than it is to be tall or beautiful, etc. on the outside. I was so proud of mine and Aesop's ability to piece together a good fable as Noah and I started to list how we grow our insides to be strong...by loving others well, being kind, using nice words, etc.

And that is precisely when Noah knocked me back down to earth by saying, "Like, we shouldn't call someone a buttocks..."

Here is where I wanted to say...Hey, Kid. I told you a cool story about Jesus and His awesomeness in giving the blind man sight and then I went all Aesop on you and made up a pretty sweet story with a moral to it and now you are concluding this special Jen and Son time by pointing out that we shouldn't call someone a "buttalks".

While we're at it, let me just clear things up for you.

No, it is not okay to call someone a "buttalks."

No, it is not okay to call someone a "little big butt."

And, no, it is not okay to use the phrase, "butt crack."

In fact, let's just do away with the use of "butt" altogether.

No, you will not "take a wizz" or, let's just establish it before you ask, "take a leak" or "pinch a loaf" as long as you are under this roof.

No, I am not interested in hanging out with anyone whose "butt can fit into their mouth." For one thing, that's not even possible.

And I am glad you are so super duper excited that you have achieved the perfect armpit toot. So much so that you now greet me with the sight of you vigorously pumping them out as I make my way up the carpool lane to pick you up. I am one proud Jen. (Though I am sorry your armpit is red and raw from all the practice you put into learning how to do armpit toots. In one day. There is a such thing as being overzealous. Maybe you'll learn that in Kindergarten, too.).

And, one last thing, child of mine. You are a boy. And you are in kindergarten. And you know how to armpit toot. And, you may call me Mom in front of your friends.

BUT. The fact is, I notice you still call me "Mommy" when it's just the two of us.

Yep, I see right through you, Noah Jack.

Bingo

2010-09-20T23:48:00.005-05:00

I finally came down with the sore throat that plagued Brian at the end of last week. I knew it was coming. Just knew I'd be tacking it on to the string of physical ailments that have been my thorn in the flesh since Anniston was born. The cold sores are going on 7 weeks, so it's only fitting that I'd catch the first bug Brian brought home from high school.

My ailments like to tag team. They are little wrestlers.

Today was also our first PTA meeting. It was so tempting to stay home and skip the meeting and the Bingo tournament following. But, the elementary schools know how to get parents in the building. THEY TELL YOUR KIDS ABOUT THE PRIZES, BINGO TOURNAMENT, PRIZES, PIZZA AND, YES, THE PRIZES, ALL DAY so that, when your child comes to you and says the word, "Bingo," like it was gold, you know you're going.

It soon followed that Noah, Anniston and I found ourselves pulling up to the school driveway, ready for some ~~PRIZES~~ Bingo. Brian and Tyler stayed home. Apparently, daddies were not born with the guilt gene that all mommies are saddled with. Right next to the gene that hears your kid throwing up in your doorway in the middle of the night and you hear it but, miracle of miracles, your hubby sleeps right on through it.

Not that we have ever experienced that in our household.

Anyhow, so began the Bingo tournament and the lesson I didn't see coming.

Noah and I must share a little superstitious gene because both of us stayed loyal to our cards through most of the rounds we played. We figured our respective card's one shining moment had to come at some point. With each round, our cards disproved our theory and the tension mounted.

TENSION.

Because there were PRIZES involved. Glorious water bottles, sticky hands, silly bandz...the stuff dreams are made of. Oh, the excitement. Oh, the PRIZES.

And I pray and I pray. I so deeply want this for him, my competitive child. I want victory, I want success, I want a prize, a thrill for him. I glance at his card and at mine, double, triple checking. I long to hear his voice call out, "Bingo!" For him to know the proud march to the front to prove his win and gain his prize. At some point, I realize I am not even enjoying the game, so badly do I want this for him.

And I see he wants it, too. His eyes are dancing, he's on the edge of his seat. He scans his card diligently, boldly marking his card and even counting down how close he is to winning. He has to pee so bad, he's squirming, but he's afraid to leave. Finally, rounds into it, I convince him he needs to get thee to a bathroom. We make quick plans for me to watch over his card as he races to the boys' room. In no time, he is back, ready to re-join the competition.

And I pray and I pray. My prayer is in nearly every breath. Lord, I want this for him. I want him to have this win. Please, God, let him win. Not for any glory. Not for any competitive nature in me. Not for the silly bandz. Simply because he's so excited and what parent doesn't want their child to know the thrill of the win?

And then he speaks The Words and I know instantly he will not win tonight. I keep praying, but I know. He says, "I just know I'm going to win." And, with those words, I knew. I knew. Something told me there would not be sweet victory. Instead, he would learn something tonight in heartbreaking defeat. He would learn that we can set our minds to some things, but simply deciding we will win will not, in fact, make us win. And, he'll learn something else that's hard for any of us to learn. Maturity and completion come through trials. Hmm...seems like that's Biblical. Something/Someone tells me Noah will walk out with a character lesson instead of a school water bottle and silly bandz tonight.

All of this forces me to examine myself. What is it that I truly want for him? The easy win, the luck of the draw, the victory for which he truly did not work? Or, do I want the big picture? The hard lessons that must come if he's to be any man I hope for him to be. The lesson that says you will not always get what you want no matter how hard you believe you will. Believe and work hard, yes, but know that belief does not have the final say.

"I hate myself." I don't know why or even how a six year old speaks that. But he did. As soon as we were in the car, he declared it. So deep was his disappointment. And this is where I really knew that Noah was meant to learn something tonight. There is so much pressure to say the right things, to shift his focus to the correct perspective, to balance understanding and sympathy with truth, to teach him that we can have gratitude for the time spent together and for the chance to compete despite defeat, to say that we'll fight another day at the next Bingo tournament...so much I wanted to say just right. Because I know I was given that moment.

I don't know how much he heard tonight. How do you reason with a six year old? But, if he hears us say these things enough times as he grows, maybe they will sink in someday. I don't have all the right words, I'm sure of it. I only know that I am his mom and I'm given moments like these to mold him. I do my best and I rest in the fact that Noah got a dose of character building tonight. That he did not walk away with a prize in hand, but with the testing of his character as his prize.

Sigh.

This parenting thing makes my brain and my heart work too hard sometimes.

Noah, Tyler and Annison, I want victory for you. I want you to taste the thrill of the competition and to know the proud march to claim your prize. I want to see the dance of your eyes. I love the childlike belief that you can do anything you put your mind to.

But, I want for you to be humbled, too. I want you to know defeat so you will learn how to handle victory with class. I want for you to be disappointed so you will know how to be grateful. I want you to fall on your face so you'll know the kind of digging deep it takes to stand up again. I want you to believe you can do all things IN CHRIST, but to know that, win or lose, the big picture is that it truly is all about Christ's glory. And I hope Christ got some glory tonight. Noah, I hope your little heart got something bigger and better than a bouncy ball and some candy. Something more lasting, more eternally focused. Something that makes you a better winner and a better loser. A better man. A man who knows all things are temporary and who learns to set his heart and mind on things above.

Because THAT is the ultimate prize.

Spe-cial Kid

2010-09-10T00:46:00.005-05:00

Noah had his six year check up.

He is in the 75%ile for height and weight and everything was A-okay.

He picked out two stickers with the plan to keep one and give one of them to his daddy and me.

But what do you do when you have just one sticker to split between two people?

12:01 a.m.

2010-09-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

One of these things is not like the others,

One of these things just doesn't belong.

Can you tell which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song?

Do You See What I See?

2010-09-04T01:38:00.005-05:00

I was snacking on some kettle chips today and looked down to see this. It's a slight stretch of the imagination, but if you know me at all, you'll know what it reminded me of.
Sigh...

A piece of my soul will always be there.

Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika.

Playing Possum

2010-09-04T00:40:00.011-05:00

The other day, a friend commented on her Facebook status that her daughter wants to be an Aggie.

I started to reply that her daughter is a genious.

A genious.

GeniOus.

Irony.

I love it.

It doesn't take a genIUS to see the irony here either.

Miss Princess and the Pea is not impressed with her bouncy seat. Or her swing. Or tummy time. Or the objects we dangle above her in an effort to find something that makes her as content as being snuggled.

I was so good about putting our boys down before they fully fell asleep so they'd learn how to sleep without being held. I don't know what it is about this child ~~okay, let's get real, she is my last baby, y'all~~, but it is as if I've swallowed a huge bunch of asking for it because I'm having a hard time putting her down and letting her soothe herself. And my sleep habits are paying dearly for it. She has perfected the method of appearing to be deep in sleep, only to jolt awake mere minutes after I've laid her down.

The other night, we went through several rounds of such exercises. Just when I thought she was deep asleep and it was safe to put her down, I'd hear her crying and we'd hit repeat.

That same night, I discovered this opossum shortly after our dogs did.
No question this poor baby was dead by the time I snapped this, but, just seconds before, there wasn't any blood and I began to wonder if it was playing possum. It was lying very still and its breathing had become shallow.

Intrigued, I watched and waited for it to show some sign of life, in awe of it's ability to stay so still ~~because it was DEAD, Jen~~.

I glanced over at this little girl lying on the couch.

I had just spent half the evening putting her down just to discover her wide awake and wanting to be held a few minutes later. She would lie very still and her breathing would become shallow...

I looked out at the possum. I looked at her on the couch. I looked at the possum. I looked at her.

And then it dawned on me. Our daughter has perfected playing possum.

Genius.

Toe-may-toe, Toe-mah-toe...Breasts, Ribs

2010-08-29T22:36:00.013-05:00

I have a long-seated hesitancy in telling our boys proper names for certain body parts. (The private ones if that wasn't obvious).

It is irrational. It is immature. It is something I need to get over, I know.

I'm trying to overcome that by easing into it. Having a new baby has allowed me some opportunities ~~are you kidding me, I have nothing sacred left to hide~~ to step out of my comfort zone. In those first days of healing, especially, nothing remained covered up. Airing out my incision, changing pads, my catheter bag...they witnessed it all.

"BREASTfeeding," in particular, was one of my first hurdles to clear. Believe me, I was tempted to call it "nursing" or "suckling" and be done with it. But then I felt like a Puritan ~~or a pig farmer~~ and everyone knows Asian girls look funny in curly wigs and those accordion neck collars aren't practical in this Texas heat anyway.

So, I stepped out with breastfeeding. The two words used together posed no threat to my conservative soul. It was the BREAST part that I didn't want to explain or hear the boys using. Noah has, for some reason, taken to calling them "paddies" over the last year. I have no idea why, only that I never bothered to correct him. I mean, come 25 years old, yeah, I'll correct him. Who wants a married man calling them paddies, after all?

Unless his wife is named Patty. Then it would be fine to call them "Patty's."

I do want to mention that the boys also call nipples "nickels." Which we've never corrected either. But mostly because we think it's cute.

Our boys are going to be confused come sex ed or anatomy class.

It turns out saying "BREASTfeeding" and calling them "BREASTS" wasn't difficult once I said those words for the first few times. And it was all working out well and good and I felt like I'd finally laid aside the accordion collar and joined the 21st century.

Until Tyler walked into the kitchen today and announced that his breasts were hurting.

Confused, we looked down to see him pointing at the base of his ribs. Nowhere near his "breasts."

Back to square one.

And the 17th century.

Warp Speed...Ain't Happenin'

2010-08-28T22:57:00.002-05:00

Noah had his first homework assignment of his school career his first week of school. To help generate ideas for creative writing on their journaling days, each kiddo had to fill out a Me Tree. On one side, we helped Noah think of his favorite things (food, friends, interests, etc.). On the other, he was to find magazine pictures of things that interest him. Easy enough.

Or so I thought.

If you know Noah, it should come as no surprise that he cut out pictures that were related to sports and video games. He had the Aggies, sports equipment, Wii, Playstation 3 and Nintendo DS covered. All ~~things that mean Brian can't deny his paternity~~ very six year old stuff of interest.

Then he spotted a full-page ad and insisted he wanted it on his page.

Now, it's only kindergarten and I certainly don't want to be "that" parent that hinders their child's creativity and initiative when it comes to doing their own homework. But, for this, there needed to be an intervention.

And, naturally, the kiddo wanted to know, "WHY?" On the spot, the only thing I could think of was that I didn't think it was a good idea because it was too large to fit on his tree and, um, would cover everything else up and, um, wouldn't he rather put his twenty seventh picture of a video game on there instead?

I was able to refrain from saying...

AND ALSO BECAUSE IT IS A PICTURE OF A LIFE-SIZED MAXI PAD, NOAH.

I think the "warp speed" was the hook. You can't tease a kid with a product that promises warp speed anything. This thing even looks like it's about to take flight. Wings expanded, sparkly stars in the sky. All things that get pilots and little boys excited. Not sure why it's marketed to women this way. Of all the things I look for in a solid maxi pad, "warp speed" never occurred to me.

But, really.

Ain't happenin', Son.

(I do, however, thank you for generating an idea for this blog).

Noah's First Day of School

2010-08-23T23:54:00.015-05:00

Well, we survived the first day of kindergarten. There were less tears than I imagined and no wailing like I'd envisioned. There was no need for a box of tissues and no need to peel us apart at the doorway.

I did much better than I thought, thank you very much.

Oh, and Noah was a champ, too.

The day started off around 6:40 when Brian went to wake the guys.

I use the term, "wake," loosely. Man, 6:40 is early!

He'd fixed a waffle breakfast and we kicked off the big day with giving Noah the backpack Brian had picked out. Not because we planned it as a first day of school surprise, but more like, of all the things we needed to buy for school, somehow we waited til the dead last minute to buy this. Brian made a run to Wal-mart around 9:00 last night.

Either way, Noah was delighted.

Tyler was even feeling the love as he told him, "I'm goina miss you."

First, we sent the big boy off to school.
And then began the anxiety wherein Noah followed me around the house all morning and made statements like, "Seven hours is a long time. I'm going to miss you. Preschool was only five hours." And, finally, he asked if I could get on Facebook to ask my friends if kindergarten is fun.

Facebook much, Jen?

I obliged and my friends came through with wonderful words of encouragement. He got on a few times before we left so he could read them. He also felt a sudden need to practice writing his name using lower case letters (he'd been writing in uppercase throughout preschool).

I've been trying all summer to get him to do this. It was 20 minutes before we needed to leave for school. I think he inherited my procrastination gene. So, I broke out the dry erase pad and wrote his name. And he practiced.
I think his nerves got the better part of him again since the last one he practiced reverted back to the capital "A."

We took this picture of Noah to mark how he looked his first day of school.
Incidentally, it dawned on me later that it's no good taking pictures year to year to mark how much your child has grown if you take them next to a tree THAT WILL ALSO GROW.

We loaded up the car and I was a happy camper. We live about three minutes from school. I was soooo proud of myself for getting the crew out of the house with 20 WHOLE minutes before school. This is a feat for the girl who has Asian blood coursing through her veins. Which basically means I'm perpetually late. Only 179 more times to go. Oh my word.

Anyway, we left with 20 minutes before the tardy bell.

Rookie mistake.

Because, on the first day of school, it turns out, it takes two WHOLE minutes just to pull out of the neighborhood.

And then whomever designed the school modeled the pick up lane after the Bermuda Triangle. Once you get in, you cannot get out. I wasn't really panicked until I turned into the parking lot and realized I was committed. There was no getting out. Even if I were not driving a honkin' huge ~~bus~~ Expedition, I couldn't have squeezed my way out of there. There is a small part of me that wondered if I could barrel across the grassy field as I was in a SUV. But I get the feeling that would've been frowned upon and I'm really trying hard to get accepted into the PTA. I was either going to get a parking spot or I was going to make Noah tardy on his first day of school because it was going to take forever to break out of the parking lot, find a place to park and then walk three kids into the school in nine minutes.

On the hottest day on record this year.

Enter PANIC MODE. Oh, how I sweated. Oh, how I kicked myself for making Noah late on his first day. And, oh how I prayed and begged God to open up a miracle spot. Just as things were looking dismal and I was in full panic mode, my prayers were blessedly answered in the very last parking space. I threw that monster truck in park and unloaded the crew.
We entered the kindergarten pod with minutes to spare.

And then...the big moment that I'd been dreading for six years. The big goodbye-to-your-babyhood-what-happened-to-yesterday-when-you-were-still-blowing-spit-bubbles-at-me-and-are-you-sure-we-didn't-enter-some-warped-time-zone-where-six-years-vanished-just-like-that-does-anybody-else-hear-Billy-Dean-singing-Let-Them-Be-Little-playing-in-the-background moment.

BUT MY BOY ROCKED IT. I was so proud of Noah! I planted an air kiss in his hand and squeezed it shut. I showered him with words of love and excitement. And then I did the rookie parent thing and lingered in the doorway so I could snap these pics.Oh, yes, and he did return to me for one last hug before he disappeared into the pod. You can see the anxiety on his face. But, he bravely marched on into his room and found his table.
Tyler, Anniston and I headed to the cafeteria for the Boo-hoo's and Yahoo's breakfast.

Until I realized that the only worse thing than crying while you down OJ and bagels is doing it in front of a bunch of strangers, so we left.

Brian's school lets out thirty minutes before Noah's, so he was able to jump in the car and go with us to pick him up. I think the only time I was that close to being so excited to see Noah was the day I met him. I kept tearing up and even caught myself clapping my hands, so great was my anticipation.

Brian's take on the whole Kindergarten deal was that we were,"One step closer to some one-on-one time."

Only 18 more years to go, Mr. Sentimental.

Our boy finally came out of the building. More like burst out of the building and ran to us. This is the picture Brian snapped when Noah spotted us.

Other than pointing out that I forgot to pack his snack (who forgot to tell me I was supposed to pack a snack??? Mommy Fail!), he breathlessly announced that "everything" was his favorite. His cheeks were pink, his eyes were dancing and he was completely and fully in love with that thing called Kindergarten.

When we got home, the schoolboys had a surprise waiting for them. We've decided to start a new first day of school tradition where they get a bag of treats when they get home. I orginially was going to put them in tube socks and call them, "School Socks." Until I realized...School Socks. School. Socks. Sounds too much like, "School Sucks." So, it looks like I'll need to come up with another name for it.

The first day wouldn't have been complete without his first homework assignment.

And, finally, here is the picture taken at the end of a very sweaty, satisfying day with a door that WILL NOT GROW.

Insert Sappy Celine Dion Song Here

2010-08-22T22:46:00.008-05:00

For some unknown reason, Noah's been saying this last week that he wants to see the sunrise. He even asked me to wake him early to see it. As he was birthed into a family of night owls, I have a feeling he's in for a rude awakening in the morning. Tomorrow is the first day of school. The first day he'll likely see a sunrise. And, possibly, the last day he'll ever make that kind of crazy request again.

KINDERGARTEN.

Be still my heart.

How did we get here so fast?

How did we go from the sleep all day phase that Anniston's in at four weeks to a sixth birthday last Wednesday?

Sometimes I think the scenario in the movie Groundhog Day doesn't seem so bad. I could re-live these last six years over and over. They have had their low points, but those low points would be worth re-living the days of seeing his toothless first grin, watching his ape-like toddler walk, the way he called me, "Boppy" instead of "Mommy," the fact that he still loves to be tickled...yeah, these six years have been full of the highlights of my life.

We had a good last day of summer, all things considered. My cold sore bout has been a thorn in my flesh the last three weeks, but today was still special. Brian and Tyler spent a few hours at school while Brian got his classroom ready for tomorrow. Noah and Anniston stayed home with me. As Anniston sleeps all day, it gave Noah and me plenty of time to play. Which always magically makes him pleasant to be trapped in a house with. He is just a different kid when he's got all the attention and we're doing things he likes to do. We played dominoes, soccer, dodge ball and read three Berenstein Bear books. I don't always do a good job of treasuring how much he craves my attention, but I recognize what a gift it is that Noah is young enough that he wants to play with me. I know that won't always be the case.

Until today, Noah had displayed a surprising level of excitement over kindergarten. He loved seeing his classroom and finding his desk at Meet the Teacher. He smiled and made eye contact with his teacher as he shook her hand. And that is huge for my shy guy who still wouldn't greet his preschool teachers at the end of the school year in May. I think that one year of holding him back made a huge difference in his confidence and I'm grateful. His courage has given me courage. But, this afternoon, I think the anxiety began to set in. He began to say he was going back to preschool tomorrow. That he wanted me to come teach his fitness class as I have the last three years. He began to call tomorrow "the sad day."

I had hoped to read The Kissing Hand to him tonight. A friend was going to give me her copy and I found out a few days ago that it had been misplaced and was likely donated to the church preschool department. That's okay, some other child will be blessed by it. But, as the day was winding down, I found myself needing to mark the start of this new phase of life with some sort of special reading. As Lord of the Flies is neither topically fitting for this situation nor age appropriate, I settled for a made up story. I knew enough about the story of Chester the Raccoon and his fears about the first day of school that I decided to wing it. I had the boys' rapt attention as I went on about a raccoon and what I supposed his fears might be. In the middle, I nearly got too choked up to finish my made up story (how pathetic was that...didn't I know what was coming?) but was able to regain composure. We concluded with the promise that Daddy and I would plant kisses that stick on Noah's palms in the morning. Mine may turn out to be air kisses because kisses full of herpes viruses that stick are no bueno. He, of course, asked what happens if he opens his hands. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy kisses are really, really sticky and they don't fall out. At least, that's what I told him. So, we'll see if holding our kisses to his cheeks helps him get through the day. I'm really looking forward to seeing the grin on his face when his whole family goes to pick him up.

Anyway, the boys are now tucked snug in their beds. Noah's favorite bedtime wish is, "Sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the big buggy bite you." And, if he hasn't said it to every member of the family, he tells one of us to pass it on. Tonight, it sounded especially sweet to me. Again because there will be a day that he no longer says that and this kindergarten thing is a great reminder of how fleeting time is.

So, here I am, on the eve of the first step to letting go.

My Dear Noah Jack,

I'm sitting here on the couch, wondering how we got here so soon. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up bright and early (maybe even dark and early) and get you ready for the first day of your school career. Preschool was practice, this is the real thing. Tomorrow begins a 17+ school career. But, really, it signals to me how one third of your time under my care has already flown by and how much faster these school years are going to go.

Tonight, you and Tyler played in the backyard while Daddy mowed. You ran in for a drink (cheeks all flushed, body all sweaty and heart all HAPPY) and I gave you a five minute warning. Just as I gave it, I realized that was the last one of the summer. Then I began to think that it was really the last one of your childhood, pre-school. From here on, you'll know what the end of summer brings. From now on, play days are no longer unlimited. You will not have seven days a week with which to play and be a kid.

Tonight, you are innocent to what it really means to be in school five days a week for seven hours each day. Tonight, you are still my baby but there is something new on the horizon. It is the last night before the lifelong process of letting go each parent faces. Tomorrow, August 23, marks the day that you step out into the world as your Daddy and I release you into God's care. Before we know it, we'll be making the drive to drop you off for our first night in your college dorm.

Shudder...

I think the weight of that is still hitting me. It's been so hectic the last few days with me fighting this cold sore outbreak from Hades and preparing for your combined birthday party with Tyler last night. This evening, I finally paused long enough to realize what it meant that I was making your lunch, setting out your clothes and writing you a love note for you to find in your lunch. I felt compelled to go into your room, where you and Tyler are soundly sleeping. While I normally pray in whatever position I'm in, tonight I felt the need to get on my knees as I faced your bed and prayed aloud. God had a Son, too, that He had to let go of so He could fulfill God's purpose for Him. Because He knows the love of a parent, I know God gets my Mommy heart. My heart tonight feels something like this...

Father, I thank you for the blessing of raising these three children. For the gift that you've given Brian and me in calling them ours. Father, I pray that our children are a blessing to You and that we are equipping them in the way that brings You glory. I pray for courage tomorrow, for Noah and us. I ask that You release him from any dread in the morning and allow him to fully enjoy his first day. Please help everything to go smoothly in the morning and let Him feel your peaceful presence throughout the day. I pray that he will be a blessing to You even as he is learning who You are. I pray that we have equipped him to be a blessing to those around him. I ask that You will help us release him and live with open fingers, knowing that these children are first Yours. You know how very much I long for these children to stay as they are; young and simple and free from the cares of the world. I want so much for them to stay this innocent and have such a funny way of looking at life. But, God, I know one of my most important roles as their Mother is letting them go, so help me do that. Let him be fully clothed in Your armor as he goes into the huge, wide world. Please help Noah to bless You in his mannerisms, his words and his thoughts. Father, I ask that you would bring people into his life that will strengthen his developing faith this next year. Please protect his heart and his mind as he goes into the world. Thank You for blessing my heart with his life.

P.S. Dear God, help me survive this letting go thing. And, also, sunrise.

In Jesus' name. Amen.

I love you with all my soul, Noah Jack. You'll always be my baby. I am so THANKFUL to be your Mommy!

These Golden Years

2010-08-05T22:14:00.006-05:00

I've been feeling melancholy lately. I suspect it has to do with a combo of post partum hormones and a lack of continuous sleep. And, possibly feeling like I've turned into a dairy cow, always ready for the next milking. Whatever the cause, I found myself deeply missing my childhood yesterday. Maybe it was the simplicity of it. The security of it. No hospital bills to figure out how to pay. No desire to escape our town to find adventure (and cooler temps, oh my word). It was everywhere. No sense of boredom with the everyday routine of life. All we did was play in the sunshine and life was complete. So simple.

What triggered yesterday's episode was watching Charlie Brown with Noah and hearing the tinker of the piano music come on. Something about that sound brought back memories of dining at the Officers' Club all my growing up years. There was something so warm about those days at the O Club...dimmed lights, linen table cloths, quiet conversations, family time, someone tinkering on a baby grand...warm fuzzies. And something in me yearned so deeply for those days again. I love military bases. Remind me so much of my childhood, when happy days abounded because things were easy and I felt secure.

We headed out to a shaved ice vendor on the east side of town last night. The east side, full of old brick buildings that have been there since before I was a child. Something about those reminded me of my Dad's hometown and the visits to see my Granny. I suddenly felt a longing for my Granny's old stone house with the green astroturf that covered her patio. The smells of Aquanet hairspray and Caress soap and her gas stove. The sign in her bathroom that read, "We aim to please. You aim, too, please." Crowding into her kitchen or gathering on the couch in the living room after a full meal. My Granny's quick wit and easy laugh.

So, by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the shaved ice trailer, I was near tears. Noah and Brian jumped out to get their treats while Anniston and I waited in the air conditioned car. Tyler was with my parents. As I sat there, though, something changed while I watched Noah jump around in anticipation. I soaked in the vision of his daddy lifting him into his strong arms as Noah rested his arm comfortably across his shoulder blades. His arm fit so naturally across Brian's back as his long, tanned legs dangled down Brian's side. My boy who will be six in less than two weeks and who will start his school career in less than three. I witnessed this child of mine press his face up against the glass so he could watch magic being made. (I'm sorry, Mr. Man in the booth, for the smudges his squished up nose left behind.) And, as they waited for their cups to be completed, I saw my son jump around the grass and explore, dimple in his right cheek showing up in his huge satisfied grin. He delighted in finding someone's lost pair of blue flip flops and dashed back to the car to show me what he found so that "Tyler can have some blue ones, too!" Of course, I gently told him to return them in case their owner came back and he immediately did so. I watched my boy's brown eyes dance as he dashed back to the car to show me his rainbow-colored dessert, red, green, blue and yellow. His life so complete, his joy so simple.

It was after 8:00 and there is a reason photographers call that last bit of sunlight the golden hour or the magic hour. Somehow, the lighting softened everything about what I was watching. And I felt my soul quiet. And I realized that I need not long for the old days, when things were seemingly more golden and magical. I have magic right in front of me right here, right now. Someday, I'll long for these days again. Someday, these days that are so routine and yet so complicated will be the golden years for me. Someday, I'll long for the simplicity of spontaneous trips to blow hard-earned money at shaved and flavored pieces of ice. Someday, I'll miss those dancing bright eyes.

And, my soul let loose a long sigh. Not in resignation, but in contentment, as I responded, "Okay, God, okay."

I am thankful for the lesson.

A Time to Scatter Stones and a Time to Search

2010-06-13T23:11:00.006-05:00

Tonight was one of those nights I hope to always to remember. Sometimes I actually ask God to help me have memory snapshots of moments like these where I can think back years from now and remember just how rich it was when our kids were young. But, lest I have a lapse in my memory, I suppose that's what this ol' blog is for.

Anyway, after we grilled some steaks and fixins, we decided to surprise the boys with a late evening firefly hunt. Oh, how I love the easy-going-ness of summer.

We walked down toward our neighborhood park and positioned ourselves in a grove of trees. While we spotted several fireflies, we were never able to get close enough to catch them. Hindsight is such a humorous thing. It turns out that spraying on gobs of insect repellent before going hunting for bugs is counterproductive. Ya think? We caught exactly zero fireflies. Next time we'll know we must make blood sacrifices and possibly risk the West Nile virus in order to secure such treasures as fireflies. But does anyone disagree it is worth it to have that jar full of lit up bugs at your bedside all night?

Anyway, after our lack of success with fireflies, we did the next best thing and let the boys run down to the playground and have some fun. I just love summer nights with no set schedules and places we have to be in the morning. It was pitch dark by then and Brian and I made our way over to the benches to watch the boys. And, as I ungracefully stretched out my pregnant self on the bench and laid my head in Brian's lap, we watched our offspring do what all puppies, bear cubs and children do best...PLAY.

You know those times where your blood pressure drops and your breathing slows down? I don't mean the kind where you are near death and you see angels flocking overhead, but the kind where everything negative fades away and all you see is the blessing before you. Well, that was tonight. Total contentment.

The boys found a new bug to hunt, June bugs, and gathered up at least 15 of them. We were far enough apart that I couldn't hear every word, but I delighted in their squeals with each new catch and watched their silhouettes run toward us, prizes in fist. Tyler, with his floppy hair, and Noah, with his steady-footed run. They showed us most of the bugs and we pretended to admire every one of them there in the pitch dark. After securing the bugs in the jar, they ran back to the lamp post across the playground and kept up the hunt. At some points, they dug through the pebbles and Tyler did some spontaneous somersaults. Because if there's one thing that makes this kid want to do somersaults, it's catching bugs. He also made a couple of pebble angels, which are similar to snow angels except that it's June and it's Texas and we barely remember what snow looks like by now.

I love watching the boys explore and soak in the wonder of God's creation. Except when it's 95 degrees and I'm swelling and I just want to sit in a dark room with a fan turned on high. Which is why it is a good thing for us to venture out when it's pitch dark. I asked Brian several times what he thought the boys were saying to each other or what he thought they were thinking about. Children are the coolest things. I often wish I could think like they think, just living in the moment and being fascinated by simple things. It filled my heart so much to see them being each other's best friend. Brian mentioned that he's kind of sad Anniston won't know her brothers at this age. By the time she's ready to go exploring for bugs, the boys will probably have moved on to other things, like video games. I wondered if they'd still squeal during bug hunts and RUN full speed to show us their catches at ages seven and nine when she's three. I sure hope so. I don't think I'll still want that for them at ages seventeen and nineteen because that would just be weird, but I could use a few more years of this childlike delight in my life. It's good for my soul.

I doled out a couple of half-hearted warnings that we had just five minutes left before we had to go, but I knew I really didn't mean them even when I spoke them. Someday, I will remember watching my boys catching June bugs under the light of that lamp post and not that they went to bed on time. And how they chased after that rabbit full speed (supersonic speed, as Tyler says) believing they really would catch it. I will, hopefully, remember the smallness of their busy bodies while they squatted low to the ground and dug through the pebbles. I hope I recall the way the lamp light shone down on their hair that remained shiny despite the dust. And how they romped through the unsteady pebbles to get to us. My heart will treasure the way they kept up their excited chatter even though I couldn't hear every word they said. Just watching them being brothers and deepening their best friendhood is enough for me.

And, when we finally did leave, Noah carefully protected the jar of treasures tightly in his arms while Tyler sat tall on his Daddy's shoulders and brushed his hands through every branch we went under. The boys took a shower to get all the pebble dust off and then hung out with me in the living room for awhile. Noah was so busy talking to me about his upcoming birthday (in two months), he didn't notice Brian sneak up until he had him tackled. Of course, Tyler just joined in the dogpile and there were more squeals of delight. And, again, I loved watching my three guys being buddies and deepening their best friendhood.

Although I have to say that wrestling right before bed, it turns out, is also counterproductive.

Doggone hindsight.

Granbury or Bust, Day One

2010-05-31T23:45:00.004-05:00

We ventured a couple hours west for our family vacation/10 year anniversary celebration. Some people plan elaborate 10 year anniversary trips to white sandy beaches, where they enjoy quiet couples massages, fruity beverages and snorkeling among the dolphins and sparkly fish. Sans kids, of course. And, also, tar balls and oil slicks, BP willing. We wait til the 100 degree weather arrives, load up our Tribute with our offspring and all the noise and mess they come with and head toward water that smells of fish when the wind catches it just right. But, that is what you do when you're planning to pay for a c-section, about to become swaggerin' mini van owners and you've got an A/C unit on its last leg, which is living on the edge in Texas in the summer. So, it was gritty sand in our crevices and fishy wind at our backs for us.

We went to Granbury nearly four years ago to the day for our sixth anniversary. Tyler's due date was July 30th and Anniston's is July 29th, so I was about as far along in pregnancy with Tyler as I am with Anniston.

But, things were different back then. Back then, this was our family...

I loved my Noah so much, I was a little sentimental about no longer being a family of three and wanted to make special memories before our family forever changed.

How could I have guessed how very incredible that change would be? ;)

Back then, Noah preferred the sandy beach to the fishy lake water.

One thing's for sure, he was ornery then as he is now.And, here's another thing that hasn't changed. This family loves dinosaurs!We even stayed in a cabin that had a dinosaur theme. There was a hiking path with life-sized dino figures and a playground, too.

We loved that vacation and decided we'd make it back there again someday. Granbury really is a cute town with lots of adventures for a weekend trip and it's not too far from our home base.

So, four years later...

Granbury 2010 started out with a fun ride on the luggage cart at America's Best Value Inn.

I'm sure we made a memorable impression with the hotel staff.And they made a memorable impression with us when we got to our room and discovered leftovers in the fridge.Noah about made a memorable impression on his spinal cord when he jumped off the bed and landed on the back of his neck. This is him resting after learning life lesson #402...don't jump off the bed because you might land on the back of your neck. Life lesson #401 is don't jump on the bed even when something seizes your body and you feel you just must. Tyler has yet to learn either lesson.After we unloaded at the hotel, we headed over to the Square where, bless my soul, they were having an outdoor market in celebration of Memorial Day weekend.

And, God bless our soldiers for giving us the freedom to worship as we please, vote as we please and enjoy a refreshing sno-cone in 100 degree weather. After browsing around the tents in 1000 degree weather, we headed over to the boys' first drive-in movie experience to watch Shrek 4. Noah thought it was a #1 idea.

We picnicked in the back of the car and dined on the fine cuisine they offered. I think some of our bowels later regretted that decision, but that is part of the drive-in experience, after all.

There was a little clearing in front of our car, so the boys kicked a ball around to kill time until the movie began...or until the ball ended up going over the barbed wire fence. Then, all there was to do to kill time was eat more popcorn. Which could've explained the stomach problems later on. But, good to know someone beyond that barbed wire fence is now the proud owner of a Little Einsteins kick ball.

Have I mentioned it was 100,~~000~~ degrees? And, yet, T still loves to cuddle.

But, that's okay, we love a good cuddle.

Have I mentioned this guy is as ornery as he ever was?Shrek was a hoot and the boys did a great job making it through the whole movie. It was late when we got to the hotel, but Tyler decided he wanted to create his very own Home Alone moment and dry his hair. All that was missing was the after shave and the scream, but that was okay because, again, it was late. And, we'd already made enough memorable impressions at the hotel for one day.

Four years ago, this is the little boy that was being knit together in my tummy on our last Granbury trip. A hand towel fits around his waist, which is well and good because I like the size of squeezable him. And, delightfully, he has been more blessing than I could've ever imagined back then, when we were a family of three.So, four years later, this is us.

And, even though I'm again feeling a bit sentimental that this part of our life is coming to an end and things are about to change, this time I know how very incredible that change will be. I am loving the memories we're making these final weeks before we become a family a five, but also fully embracing and excitedly anticipating the idea of having another little one to share life with.

Life lesson #2...families are a #1 idea.

Concealed Weapons Cache

2010-05-24T02:17:00.004-05:00

Anyone else ever open a kitchen drawer and discover you're packin' heat?

Good to know that if anyone ever tries to get a jump on me while I'm slaving over a pot of spaghetti, I'll have the last word.

Rain on my Parade

2010-05-22T20:03:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

Today, Noah was in the tub and I had just told Tyler to get in as well. I, with my squished pregnancy bladder, decided to make a quick pee stop on their toilet. As I turned to get the toilet paper, I suddenly felt a warm trickle on my backside. It was not a good warm trickle, I discovered, as I turned to see Tyler also making a quick pee stop before he jumped in the tub.

If I had not already been initiated into the Club of Boy Moms by all the poop jokes and all the clearing of dead bugs from jean pockets and the bottom of my washing machine, I feel certain today's experience sealed the deal.

Grossed out,

Jen

Somebody Always in my Soul

2010-05-20T15:34:00.012-05:00

Somebody Ultra Special graduated from preschool today.

Somebody God Created has been blessed to attend a school where it's been reinforced that he is fearfully and wonderfully made.

Somebody Who Makes Me Laugh started out goofy on the stage as the songs were about to begin.

But, Somebody Who Makes Me Want to Pull my Hair Sometimes changed his mind and decided to be the only kid out of about 60 who wasn't going to sing or do hand motions. Instead, he wore this delightful expression the entire time on stage.

Somebody Shy does not appear to have American Idol in his future.

Somebody Lucky still received his diploma and a handshake from Ms. Audra and Ms. Susan.

Somebody Relieved was ready to wrap up graduation and head toward some hugs.

Somebody Loved had some faithful fans waiting to give him some. And, also, some punch.

Somebody Who Will Always Be My Baby needs to stop growing up too fast.

Noah Jack, we love you so much! You will always be in our soul and we are so very proud of the boy you are. We are so honored to have front row seats as we watch God's plans for you unfold. Daddy and I will always be here to root you on. We can't wait to see what is in store for you in KINDERGARTEN!!

P.S. Somebody's Momma managed to keep it together until the video when "Let Them Be Little" played. Oh my. How could anyone keep it together then? Thankfully, Noah provided me some comic relief when his answer to the question of what he wants to be was, "A bowler." What a relief to know some things don't change in a year's time!

$12 Parking + $30 in Snacks = $42. Family Time = Priceless

2010-05-18T23:24:00.015-05:00

Brian's been wanting to take our family out to The Ballpark for a Rangers game.

I will allow him to write all over my pregnant stomach in permanent marker and then televise that bare stomach to the entire D/FW metroplex in the name of love. And, admittedly, because I do enjoy basketball. The constant running back and forth and scoring is entertaining.

But sitting in a little plastic chair during a game that lasts five innings too long and has very little to offer in the way of visual stimulation is not what some would call my love language.

Unless the tickets are free. Free usually speaks to my soul. Even so, I'm unsure I'm a truly willing participant when it comes to baseball.

But, in the name of love, and due to the free tickets Brian's brother generously passed on to us, we found ourselves heading to a Rangers vs. Angels game. (I sat in that hard plastic chair for seven innings and yet I cannot promise that's who we played).

Knowing that the length of the game and sitting so far from the action would lead to boredom for the boys, we settled on the idea that we'd constantly have to feed them snacks from the 4th inning until whenever Brian decided to call it a night. This is after we'd already fed them a nutritious meal from McDonald's on the way to The Ballpark.
I believe we made it through exactly two innings before we broke down and bought a bag of cotton candy. $3.50 for a bag of pure sugar.

And, thus began the feeding of the boys that made me think of the Incans and how they used to toss their children into volcanoes to appease the gods. It was as if the only way we could appease our children at a game where the players looked one inch tall was to throw sacrifical junk food their way for six straight innings and pray they would stay contained in their seats.

However, there is no logic to the notion that if we fill up our children with sugar for six straight innings, they will sit still. Which is why we left in the seventh inning. Lord o' mercy.

Blessed unappeased mini volcanoes. Saved me from two innings.

But, I have to admit, this little moment and just being together as a family made me happy.

Because, someday too soon, I'm aware that family times could turn into outings where every member spends the entire time on their cell phone like this family in front of us.

Their entire Ballpark experience, though I'm sorry to judge, was spent on facebook and texting. I found it both a source of amusement and sadness.

As for the boys, while their Ballpark experience had very little to do with the actual game of baseball and more to do with a feeding frenzy, it included getting to ride a shuttle bus...

Daddy's shoulders...

and some escalators...

all in one priceless day.

And that simple joy is a language that speaks to my heart.

Dandy Day (Prepare for a Plethora of Posted Pics)

2010-05-15T22:48:00.020-05:00

"We made a big, big, big, HUUUUGE mess!"

Tyler's first words to us this morning, right after he piled onto us and created a spontaneous group hug.

But, I promise, it did get better from there, big, big, big, HUUUUGE mess or not.

This is the first Saturday in forever that I've been able to sleep in. I had a sub at work and the boys did an awesome job of entertaining themselves while B and I slept.

Of course, it helps that making a triple big, h-quadruple u-ge mess kept them busy. But, it turns out, there are some things I'm willing to trade for the luxury of sleeping in.

Also, Noah presented us with cards, complete with pencils taped to each.

Who wouldn't have a great start to the day with that?

And, as it has been so long since we had a fun Saturday together, we decided to live a little and do some things we don't ordinarily do. We decided our day was going to be totally awesome.

We started with a trip to Allen for some Freebirds.

You cannot know the beauty of a burrito until you have tasted Freebirds. Brian and I began our love affair with The Bird even before we began our love affair with each other. Til death do us part. If you think you love Chipotle, it is as if you could have held the wind in your hands and you settled for a fart in your face. It is not even fair to compare the two.

(Dear Beloved Freebirds, I am sorry I used the phrase, "fart in your face" in the same paragraph where I spoke your name. I had a strong point to make and I also absolutely adore alliteration. Feel free to forgive. See? Alliteration just adds pizazz. So does rhyming.)

Afterward, we stayed in the Village at Allen and played in the train depot area, where there was also a Texas-shaped maze we had fun playing hide and seek in. Well, I had fun until a kid spit on Tyler - twice - and I thought Brian was about to get into a fight with a preschooler. Papa Bear came out. I found it kinda sexy, but also thought him being thrown in jail for assaulting a kid, spit or no spit, could quite possibly ruin the flow of our easy-going day.

Shortly after Brian nearly drop-kicked a kid (which had not been in our plans for our totally awesome day), we made our way over to Collin Creek mall to check out the Butterfly Festival. Hundreds of butterflies filled a large tent in the middle of the mall. As we entered, we were handed cotton swabs with gatorade at the end to attract butterflies. The boys were fascinated. With the butterflies. Not the cotton swabs.

Even the big boy. Let's see how many body parts we can cover in monarchs.

Anniston even got a special butterfly.

Later, we took the boys for a spin on the train inside the mall. Tyler went first since Noah wanted to ride by himself. Because, you know, "there just isn't enough room" for two boys in a four-seater engine. And, when it was Noah's turn, he made a complete goon of himself. I wondered if he'd snuck a few licks of the sugary gatorade. I guess he was just so giddy over the fact that he got to ride the train all by himself. Before we ended our trip, we got coupons for free Chick-Fil-A ice cream. CFA, could you be anymore endearing? YUM!

On the way out, Tyler hitched a ride on Daddy's shoulders. MUCH better than any ol' train ride!

Then he crawled onto Daddy's chest for a good nap as soon as we got home.

Meanwhile, this guy enjoyed welcoming our newest family member to the house, the pupae named Luke Chipsy.

Luke. Chipsy.

I have no idea.

I supposed sugar was still streaking through his system when he selected a name.

Silly son.

Honey, I Love You, But...

2010-05-15T19:58:00.006-05:00

Anyone ever play Honey, I Love You, but I Just Can't Smile?

Noah LOVES this game.

Basically, the other player tries to get you to laugh while you try to maintain composure.

Noah's problem is that he's the most laughing-est kid I know. He will laugh at anything.

And he should know by now that I have so little dignity I'm willing to do just about anything to win this game.

Oh, he did his best. He even did the "look elsewhere to calm yourself down" method.

But he ultimately couldn't resist cracking a smile.

Oh, yeah. He's about to lose it. Quick! Somebody tell him we haven't seen his cat in over two weeks and I'm guessing it became bobcat or coyote meal.

Too late...It's a lost cause.Brian decided to capture one round for posterity. And, also for proof when he tries to admit me to the nuthouse someday.

We will celebrate our tenth anniversary Thursday. Brian can't believe what a lucky guy he is. He would tell you he doesn't deserve me.

He really doesn't deserve me.

The Days are Long, the Years Short

2010-05-04T22:01:00.008-05:00

The number one piece of advice I heard from parents even before I became one is that the time with our young ones is fleeting and to treasure it while I can. I've tried to follow this advice very closely. It is one of those truly great pearls of wisdom. And, even while I've tried to daily be aware that this time is so very short, I still find myself putting my kids to bed nearly every night, ready to be done with the day. Nearly everyday, my mind and my energy are stretched to the limit. Many times, I complete the day feeling defeated. I question if I've done them right; if I should've/could've/would've done things differently if I'd stopped to remember this...the days are long, but the years are short. If I'd just faced all situations with that in the back of my mind, would I have reacted that way? Would I have ordered my days as I have? Would the television or cell phone have even been on? Would I have made more eye contact? Been more engaging in conversation?

Would I have had more adventures with the boys down by the tennis courts like we did last Friday? A day we needed the sunshine and fresh air so badly after Noah was sick for two days. It was a day when the house was in its usual state of Wreck but one where I didn't have an ounce of guilt over it. Because I knew I had not wasted that day on dusting, picking up or vacuuming. It was all about enjoying these short years with my boys.

Lately, I've been in a melancholy mood as I face Noah's departure from the preschool years and his entrance into elementary school. I feel no apprehension about his ability to do well in kindergarten or the quality of the school he will attend or any fears that this means that I, too, am growing older. Instead, my fear is that I've come to nearly six years with him and I wonder where the time went. One third of his life with us under one roof...gone. Poof. I wonder how much of it was wasted. I think, "Where is the reset button? I'm ready to do it right this time." Truthfully, even if I'd done it perfectly, I think I'd still be searching for that elusive reset button. No matter how I'd grade myself as a parent, pass or fail, my kids have exceeded all expectations with flying colors and I'd want to do it all over and over again.

As I watch both Noah and Tyler in fitness class, I'm well aware this is the last couple of weeks I'll be able to teach them. No longer will I have them for twenty minutes each Tuesday where I get to see their eyes light up because Mommy is their teacher. Everytime their classes come upstairs, I'm greeted by their huge smiles and love-filled shouts of, "Mommy!" I've made it a point lately to soak up their smiles and laughter as I get to watch them play in fitness. Their joy so refreshing, their gut-busting laughter so contagious. Lord, I thank you for the gift of teaching at their preschool.

And, speaking of preschool, today was Noah's first graduation practice. I stayed to help where I could but found it to be a struggle to keep the tears at bay. I could no longer stop them once they began singing. They sang some songs about the potential in them and about Jesus with them...and, oh yeah...weeping ensued.

My tear ducts opened and the tears rip-roared out of them. I had to leave so I could have a moment in the bathroom. And, if the ugly cry, complete with heaving sobs, red eyes and snotty nose is considered letting go, then, yeah, I let those tissues have it. I'm thankful they've got two more practices I can watch so I can practice staying composed during the real ceremony! And, if I don't, at least other parents can look and say, "Oh, that poor HORMONAL pregnant woman." In reality, surge of estrogen or not, this would've been a huge thing for me anyway.

I'm just not ready to let go of the preschool years. Such innocence in his curiosity, such fascination with the simple things, such unbridled love and joy. How long before he no longer says stuff like, "Hey! My weiner has a hole in it!" (yesterday) or how much longer will he chase me down for the third, fourth or fifth hug before he's mustered the courage to step fully into his classroom door (pretty much every Monday-Thursday)? How much longer will a rainbow make him jump and squeal (yesterday)? How many more kisses will he blow my way (five minutes ago)?

Please, God, let him still want to chase down butterflies this time next year. Please, God, let him still have the easiest laugh of anyone I know. He laughs at EVERYthing and always has. Please let him still make observations about the world he's still discovering. Observations that are totally wrong factually, but that are so very funny to hear. How much longer before he switches to "Mom" instead of "Mommy?" I love his tiny voice piping up from the backseat on our drives. I love that he loves to talk to me. And that the talk is nearly non-stop when we're in the car. How much longer will I have that? God, I love how his hand feels in mine. I'd like to hold onto it a bit, okay, a lot, longer.

Not to mention, ELEMENTARY school, the time when kids learn about the birds and the bees during snickered conversations on the playground. The years when their little ears pick up on words they've never heard before and they roll them around in their head before they try them out. The age when they start to notice the opposite sex and flirting begins a fleshly struggle ~~for the next 18, 65 years~~ until blindness and/or dementia set in. And, heaven help me, Noah will learn that "it" is not really called a weiner and "that" is really not called "something else."

Noah, there will never be enough words, they could never be worthy. You are in the core of my being and I consider it my greatest privilege to be called Mommy. To be called your Mommy. I will never have enough of you. Will never be ready to stop hearing your thought-provoking questions, will never tire of your fascination with the little things, will never be ready to stop hugging you when you get boo-boos, will never forget how you've added so much laughter because the way you see things, will never be ready to move past this precious time I have with you. I am so thankful for the honor of raising you and I pray God will help me release you into this new phase, knowing that we are all still a work in progress, knowing that I'll keep making mistakes and having regrets along the way, but that I don't have to fear.

Because I know you are in God's hands.

But, you can hold mine for a little longer, too. Okay?

And, it's time for another trip to the bathroom now. Darn, estrogen surge...

A Good Sign I Need Some Sleep

2010-04-11T01:31:00.003-05:00

This is what just went through my head a few minutes ago...

I LOVE irony. Irony makes me laugh. So hard I might pee in my pants.

Except that would make me cry.

Hmm...

How My Undergarments Got Me Thinking

2010-04-01T11:30:00.004-05:00

In 3rd or 4th grade, we had physicals at school. I'd heard that the nurse would do a spinal check to check for Scoliosis. And that all the cool girls wore bras to the exam. So, I did what any other elementary school girl who had not hit puberty yet would do, I asked for a bra anyway. Because of the coolness factor.

My granny came to spend that Christmas with us. She was a Southern woman through and through...spunky and witty with a little bit of naughty. When I got my first bra, she taught me how to put it on. Her instructions were to place the hook in the front so you could get it snapped, scoot it on around the right way, pull the straps on and then bend over and "shake 'em in there real good." We have a great picture of my first lesson in womanhood as she and I are doubled over in laughter. Well, I'm doubled over in trying to shake something non-existent in there and she is having a hoot.

Last week, I was in the locker room at Lifetime and I realized something...

Read the rest at... http://stitchingustogether.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-my-undergarments-got-me-thinking.html.

And the Zoo Continues.

2010-03-31T08:28:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago, Brian promised the boys hamsters if they cleaned their room.

Most people give stickers or lots of praise for a reward. Brian promises things that poop.

Have I ever mentioned we already have three dogs, a cat and two children in our home?

I also have a fear of small rodents. One of my teachers had several fancy rats she raised in the classroom. We held and played with the rats everyday and they were good natured and maybe even a little cute. But, they were big enough to look like small dogs and that helped. Something about the smaller versions make me jumpy, though.

I tried to figure out why and, as I thought through my history with small rodents, my recollection is as follows...

In 6th grade, my friend, Susie, had white mice she used for a science fair. After that ended, she kept the mice as pets and I remember one of those "pets" taking a chunk out of her finger one day. Horrifying.

In college, one of my roommates owned a ball python. Clyde's diet was small white mice. We used to sit and watch each doomed mouse in its last seconds of life. Terrifying.

Lastly, do the words "bubonic plague" mean anything to you?

I'm two for two on questionable experiences with small rodents and I hope to never experience the last.

So, I put my foot down that there was no way we were adding more animals to our family. Only the kind that gestate for nine months and then wear diapers for two and a half.

Someday, I will learn that putting my foot down does not work when I'm outnumbered three to one.

Meet Chubby Cheeks (darker fur) and Mississippi.

Mississippi is literally into her food here. In fact, she is "fluffier" than "Chubby" Cheeks. Girlfriend (please, God, let them both really be girls) likes to eat!

Incidentally, that is the only picture we'll ever have of the end of her tail. Did you know that if you pick up a gerbil by the tip of its tail, it can come off, leaving only bloody bone behind? Petrifying.

I learned the term "de-glove" that night and now I've had three less than pleasant experiences with small rodents.

In a moment of weakness/accepted defeat one day, I saw online that someone was giving away two gerbils and all their fixins and I bit. I figured that this thing was happening one way or another and that at least these were a free trial offer. Before bedtime that evening, Brian went to pick up the two newest members of our family and, I have to admit, the boys' reaction was priceless.

Please note T's question at the 38 second mark because it would come back to haunt us.

Mississippi was named by Tyler about one minute after meeting her. I guess when you know, you know. This is the same boy who told everyone we were naming our baby girl "Nofeet." We still cannot figure out how or where he heard Mississippi, but it is making me have to stop and think every time I try to spell it out here. Just another reason I'm glad I live in Texas. Chubby Cheeks was named the next day or two and she is Noah's.

That evening, we repeated over and over how important it is to keep the lid on the aquarium and never, never, never open it without parental assistance. In fact, at the 3:45 mark, notice to whom I direct my first warnings.

You are laughing at us, aren't you?

'Cause you already know what we were chasing around the living room the very next morning.

It seems Tyler opened a small hatch in the lid and forgot to close it. It was a good fifteen minutes of moving the couch back and forth (I am over five months pregnant and not so spry) before we finally grabbed the broom and scared Chubby Cheeks out. Girlfriend (please, God, let them both really be girls) is fast!

Three nights later, Tyler came to our room and we sent him back. I heard him rummaging around for awhile before I got up to see what he was doing.

Guess what we were chasing around the boys' room by 5:20 that morning?

Somehow, I was given the job of being at the catching end while Brian tried to scare Chubby Cheeks out from behind the bookshelf. The boys were given the job of STAY OUT OF THE WAY. I held onto a pillowcase as, time and time again, Brian tried to scare it my way.

My way.

Apparently, chivalry got a touch of the plague because IT IS DEAD in our home.

TWO TIMES that thing scampered across my foot as it tried to get away.

And, TWO TIMES I shrieked and jumped as I tried to get away.

Have I mentioned I am FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS pregnant?!

And those three stinkers LAUGHED AT ME.

All this capitalization should give you some indication of the state of my blood pressure that night as we tried to return C.C. to her cage.

Anyway, after several unsuccessful attempts and after at least 20 minutes of insanity, I finally trapped C.C. in the pillowcase and ~~then I whacked Brian upside the head for ever talking me into this free trial offer that poops~~ politely handed it over to Brian before I headed back to bed and had to calm my racing heart.

I think Chubby Cheeks and I both deserve massages after that fiasco. A girl does love a good massage.

(Please, God, let them both really be girls).

The Reach of a Teach

2010-03-29T23:32:00.010-05:00

I like a teacher who gives you something to take home to think about besides homework. ~Lily Tomlin as "Edith Ann"

I had a hard time falling asleep the other night. This is unusual for me these days, but it was kind of nice. I used to do my best thinking before I fell asleep. These days, I guess I get by without doing much thinking.

Pregnancy is a nice excuse for being more scatter-brained than usual.

I laid there for awhile, thinking of things from my childhood. I started trying to remember all the teachers I'd had. I can only remember all of them through 6th grade. After that, when we began having multiple teachers and classrooms, I couldn't remember all of them. But, it took only the littlest things to help me remember some of the teachers woven through 13 years of schooling.

For example, I remember Mr. Pink, who one day donned a fake cape and "flew" around the room. He was usually so serious, so it really caught us by surprise. And, probably freaked us out a little. Had it not been for that, I don't think I'd remember.

There was Ms. Roche, my 6th grade teacher. She was energetic, young and fun. She wrote with her left hand and one day told me, while I was helping her with a project, that I was really good at cutting a straight line with scissors. Amazing how a good word can stay with you for 21 years.

I remember Mrs. Chan, who was the shortest teacher I think I ever had. She was Chinese but had such a solid American accent and she smiled a lot.

Stereotype much, Jen?

Mrs. Keyes was a bus driver. Because, really, how could you forget a bus driver named Mrs. Keyes?

Mrs. Calvert accused me of lying. She said I didn't complete a paper that I absolutely had. I was devastated. I even went to the principal to try and resolve it. I was mostly crippled by the accusation that I lied. Days later, she put on a sheepish grin as she waggled her finger for me to come over and then showed me the paper she had found.

In my memories, she was wearing a red business suit. Devil red.

My paper had fallen under some files in her cabinet. Situation resolved, but the pain never forgotten. She also read "I'll Love You Forever" to our class at the end of the school year, which forever tainted that book for me. Imagine a demon reading that story to you and you tell me if it leaves you with warm fuzzies.

Anyhow, the thought of a mom sneaking into her grown son's room to rock him in the middle of the night AND HE NEVER WAKES UP is just plan creepy no matter who reads the story to you. And the mom is near death by the end. What kind of children's bedtime story is that?!

I once had a substitute in 6th grade. I can't remember his name, but I remember him because after a girl accidentally passed gas, he told the class it was God's gift to be able to pass gas. And he was serious, too. I think.

Mr. Boone was my favorite princiPAL. I had him from 1st through half of 3rd grade. Before my dad was transferred to Virginia, on my last day of school, I stood in the school office. Mr. Boone knelt in front of me, place his hands on my shoulders, looked steadily into my eyes and told me to be a good girl. All of this as his eyes teared up. Something about his tenderness stayed with me all these years and I've longed to track him down and thank him. When I was much older, my dad told me that an angry ex-soldier threatened to hurt our family and that the strangers who were suddenly driving Scott and me to school everyday were actually armed to protect us. We had to move suddenly because of the threat and Mr. Boone was one of those watching out for our safety. So, now I see why Mr. Boone had been so intentional in his last remarks to me. Or maybe he was just that loving. Either way, I'll never forget those tender blue eyes filled with tears.

Then there was Mr. Born. Ninth grade biology. I did not retain a single lesson about biology, but we did make sandals out of yucca plants that year. We would trek out to a little stream way behind the school and beat those yucca leaves with rocks. Then, we'd sit out in a field and weave them into sandals.

Did I mention this was in Colorado?

We were very in touch with Mother Nature and yucca plants that year. But, I am proud to say we did not actually roll and/or smoke any yucca plants. Maybe that was saved for an upper level class. I am thankful to say I did not stick around another year to find out. We moved to Texas that summer, where I actually did learn some biology. Not enough to convince me to stay in Bio Medical Science my first year of college, but enough to help me pass the TAAS test so I could get to college and learn that a business degree was more suitable for the mind that wasted a year of high school making yucca plant sandals.

Incidentally, Mr. Born also built an enormous floor-to-ceiling bird enclosure in our classroom the year I was there. I believe it took up at least a quarter of the room. He stocked it with finch and quail, among many other breeds. I was curious to see if Mr. Born still had a job there so I checked the school website and, indeed, he is still there. I guess nothing ensures your job like building a gigantic aviary in the middle of a classroom. It's not as if you can pack that up neatly into a little cardboard box on your way out the door. I am amazed he even held his job through the bird flu epidemic.

Again, COLORADO...

Again, a stereotype.

Anyway, the point is, a lot of times what makes a teacher memorable is what they teach their kids outside the books. Sometimes I cut something out and find myself thinking of Ms. Roche and wishing I could remember her married name. Mr. Boone taught me that getting on a kid's eye level and telling them they are special will stay deeply tucked within their heart. They will even remember what clothes you were wearing and what your glasses looked like. Mr. Born gave me the gift of being able to fashion trendy footwear if I'm ever stranded in a desert. Too bad he didn't teach me that at 20% dehydration, a person dies. And, Mrs. Chan and I turned out to have a lot in common in the end, except for the Chinese part.

Finally, I don't know if she wears Prada, but I've witnessed firsthand that the devil loves books and she could still be teaching AP English somewhere. But not where I went to high school.

It would've taken a lot of yucca smoking to write all that if I knew she were in an hour's reach of me.

What Dreams May Come

2010-03-29T22:46:00.011-05:00

The other night, I dreamed I was teaching some kids to swim when a lightning storm happened upon us very suddenly. I cleared the kids out of the water before anything happened, but watched in horror as they got back in the water. Why?! I don't know. They were kids. And, also, that is why it is called a nightmare. Somehow, I cleared the water again mere seconds before lightning struck the pool but I managed to do a lot of freaking out before I could convince them to get out.

We were safe until a lion began stalking us outside the pool fence. CLEARLY, we weren't in Texas anymore. We managed to run into some kind of dinky little shack with multiple rooms. Once again, I did a lot of freaking out before we could get there.

And, again, we were safe...until two panthers began hunting us down within the shack. And guess what I did a lot of...again.

Last night, I dreamed I was being chased by velociraptors and oviraptors. It was truly a scene from Jurassic Park, except no one was around to yell, "Cut!" when the scene was shot. Then, I was in a different dream where I had a "death scorpion" in my house and I had to kill it. Only it jumped around like a cricket and had a shell that was impossible to crush.

What in the world.

I do not like those "we were safe until" dreams. They do not leave me feeling like I got the good sleep.

I had some crazy dreams early in this pregnancy and I can handle absurd dreams. I want them back after that night of lightning, lions and panthers, oh my! Give me lunacy but don't give me death.

The first crazy dream I can remember is a ski trip gone awry. I mean, if vampires descending on your mountain-side cabin can be considered going awry. To me, it can. I had a cozy little rental and they would just ski right down into it. The only way to cure them was to plunge a syringe into their chest and extract purple fluid. You try doing that 114 times and see if you feel like hitting the bunny slopes anymore.

Another night, I dreamed I rode a small red carpet low over the ocean from my flat in the UK (?) to the village I visited in South Africa in January. I could use a flashlight to see some of the little friends we made. Why I was flying around at night is beyond me, but, it didn't seem to freak anyone else out too much. Because an Asian girl flying around on a carpet and checking you out in the middle of the night is totally normal.

Then there was the dream where I was pregnant and talking to neighbors when Baby E suddenly pointed and I could see a perfectly shaped baby finger poking up under my skin. It didn't penetrate my skin, but I could see every little detail of her finger. My dream was so vivid, I could even see that her fingernail was painted pink. Then I saw an entire fist emerge. It was like my skin was putty. All along, though, it was very normal to all involved. Just another friendly conversation with the neighbors while my fetus pumps a shout-out to the Black Panthers.

The militant ones, not the ones chasing me through a shack.

Anyway, it is scary what my brain cooks up when it thinks I'm not looking.

The upside is that every night has turned into an adventure. Brian has always teased me for having dreams that were much more elaborate than his. He can dream about a circle all night and that's it for him. Comparatively, my circle would have purple hair and be bouncing through hoops. On pregnancy hormones, though, that purple-haired circle would be me and I'd be eating Apple Jacks in skim milk while knitting a sweater with lime green yarn and giving Jeff Probst a high five on some deserted island where there are characters called The Others and The Smoke Monster. Only that is where it gets creepy again and I just want go back to my Apple Jacks. The only problem is, I'm a pregnant purple-haired circle whose only form of weaponry is knitting needles. I cannot wrestle The Others because skim milk does not bulk you up. I cannot seem to escape my pending doom. All I can do is run into shacks and hope all forms of wildlife, extinct dinosaurs and vampires stay outdoors.

Lucky for me, there's a good chance I still have that little flying carpet somewhere around here.

A Whole New World

2010-03-05T00:16:00.008-06:00

At least four people asked me the other day if I'd gone out and bought pink.

Given that the news of our baby girl was less than 24 hours old, I had not. Plus, I figured I have nearly five months to stock up and money could be better spent elsewhere in the meantime.

I told Brian about it and he said I should go out and buy her first dress just for fun. He is so good about saying things like that and I was starting to warm up to the idea. Then a friend suggested I find something to bring her home from the hospital in and it was like that became my life mission.

At least for the day.

The sirens of all clothes pink began their sweet serenade, but I knew I wanted to maintain a level head about how much money to spend because we do have several consignment sales coming up. So, I casually headed to the nearest mall under the pretense that I was just browsing for some new maternity tops and, just maybe, I would have my first experience looking at girl clothes through the eyes of a girl mom-to-be.

I stopped in Motherhood Maternity before I made my way into baby Gap to "look at maternity clothes."

However, from the moment I stepped in, Gap's line of maternity clothes faded into the background and guess what heaven's light shone on instead.

Rows and rows of glorious PINK.

Ohhhh, the sirens can SANG!

Speaking of singing, I felt like Luther Vandross should've been singing the Hallelujah chorus as I walked into baby Gap. He would've done it all pepped up like he was so good at. I'm guessing maybe he is...in heaven...but I like to imagine him standing there in baby Gap greeting me with that song. Anyway, I guess Luther has been my companion through many emotional moments and I've just been feeling all EMOTIONAL since I found out about this girl.

And, apparently, my ability to stay on topic is also suffering from pregnancy given that I just devoted an entire paragraph to Luther in a post about girl clothes.

Anyway, I'm sure my eyes were bugging as I tried to take in all the cute outfits. I wanted to touch... Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

So now I can relate to my three year old when we walk through the toy aisle at Wal-mart. Nice.

I felt like I was floating as I held up little yellow sandals and oohed over their blue and white Porcelain collection. My eyes kept tearing up.

It was like Disney World on crack, except I was not listening to 300 animatronic children singing, "It's a Small World" in five languages while I was stuck on a boat going through a dark tunnel and there's really no chance I'm ever going to actually try crack.

I stopped at one rack where my eyes were drawn to one delicate ivory embroidered dress. It was so tiny and simple enough to be sweet. Here it is...(somebody cue Luther again)...

Oh, my breath was taken away and the tears started building.

Then again, maybe it was the $34.50 price tag that got me...

Holy cow, girls are not cheap!

Maybe I need to try crack after all. Selling it, I mean.

Moment of the Day

2010-02-25T20:43:00.004-06:00

Last Thursday, Tyler had a rough day at school, to say the least. I guess when you're three and you really, really, really wanted to be the line leader, it makes sense to hit your teacher when you don't get the coveted role. He has NEVER done anything close to this, aside from hitting his brother. And I think that just comes with the territory.

Needless to say, Brian and I were mortified and each had extensive conversations with him about respecting our teachers and not using our hands to hurt people. So, this morning, when he made his return to school after a sick day Tuesday, he again got a stern warning from Daddy about respecting his teachers.

When Brian got home from work, Tyler ran shrieking from his bedroom, "Daddy! Daaaaaaddy! Daddy!" And, as he ran into Brian's arms, he proudly announced, "Daddy! I didn't hit my teacher today!"

Words to live by.

Sick Day Snuggles

2010-02-23T15:04:00.005-06:00

Day Three of The Cough.

But at least he's got a cute little friend to snuggle with.

And playing Playstation while wearing your cozy "feeties" doesn't hurt either.

The Slippery Slope I Just Ain't Ready to Tackle

2010-02-23T14:17:00.004-06:00

Tyler just came crying to me, saying Noah had hurt his weiner.

So, I calmly called Noah over and explained that, not only is it not nice to hurt his brother, but it's especially dangerous to hurt his weiner. I thought I was rolling along as smoothly as possible, considering the topic.

Until he asked me the age-old question.

"Why?"

And the best I could come up with was, "Because he'll need it someday."

And then I prayed that would be the end of that.

Lord, have mercy.

An Aboriginal Nightmare

2010-02-22T15:13:00.002-06:00

With the return of Amazing Race and American Idol, we have watched very little of the winter Olympics. We've seen snippets of downhill racing and we witnessed the end of the hockey game when the U.S. beat Canada (USA! USA!). However, trying to convince Brian to watch ice skating should be an Olympic event in itself.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth on his part, I finally got him to watch some of the ice dancing.

It began well enough. Unfortunately, as soon as these two Russian skaters appeared on t.v., I knew my case was forever lost.

And then they did this.

This didn't help my case.

And this sealed the deal.

Tyler "Reads" A Bedtime Story

2010-02-16T22:39:00.001-06:00

This little video makes me so happy. My boy likes to read!

Big brother thought he needed some guidance. I think Noah may have a career in teaching just like his daddy someday.

Incidentally, Tyler keeps sticking his tongue behind his upper lip because he had just had his upper labial frenulum (yes, I looked that up) torn by the box Noah threw at him. And the bandage on his right wrist is for the 3rd degree burn he got when he tried to reach for some brownies straight out of the oven. Thank goodness his black eye from falling/being helped out of the bunkbed by Noah finally cleared up or y'all might call CPS on us. Good gracious, these things called boys.

Guest Posted Elsewhere. I Am Still Alive.

2010-02-15T01:58:00.001-06:00

Someday I'll make time to write here.

But, for now, I blogged over at Stitches today.

Holy cow, I am a wordy woman.

"There's No Balls Here."

2010-02-06T00:14:00.005-06:00

So, we have another little baby on the way.

To say I'm just a little excited is like saying Tiger Woods likes women.

Someday I'll be ashamed I used a Tiger reference in this blog about my little baby.

I am beyond cloud nine in excitment. Something about that second baby taught me I really can love more than one. And, I'm so thankful he did. I feel like I relish this pregnancy so much more because I know the love that is coming.

So, here is the first time we got to "meet" Baby E.

I wonder if Tyler's statement at the 35 second mark is prophetic.

He was, of course, talking about some toy in the room with us. Or maybe he went all prophet on us and we have a little girl coming our way.

God help me. I have no idea how to fix little girl hair. I can barely manage little boy hair.

We had decided to keep the boys in the dark about what was happening. It would be a few weeks before we made this news public. So, though the sonographer says it's my heartbeat, it's actually the baby's. 168 and strong. Such a beautiful sound!

When we finally showed the boys the sonogram, Tyler declared it a rock in my tummy. I think they get it now. While we still enjoy a good wrestling session, they are so much more careful with me whenI remind them. Noah is hoping for another brother while Tyler wants a sister. I'm guessing one of them will be right.

As for me, yes, it would be fun to have some pink around the house. But, I do love my boys and I am honored that I get to raise them. Mostly, I am just trying to enjoy every bit of this pregnancy because it's likely my last. Every mommy mainly wants a healthy baby. I'm 16 weeks along. I can't wait to feel it swimming around in there.

March 2nd - the big day! Baby will, hopefully, cooperate for the sonogram. We'll see if, indeed, there's no balls here.

Noah Bikes and Brian Curls

2010-02-05T23:30:00.003-06:00

I'm going through some files and finding videos and pictures I never blogged about, but meant to. Thus, the recent postings from DECEMBER. From last September, I dug up this little treasure.

I love his concentration. And his laugh.

And, it's nice that he was barely five and unable to point out that I had a "whole street to stand on" when I told him he had a "whole street" to ride on.

As for Brian, if teaching doesn't work out, maybe he'll give Olympic curling a try. I think he has natural form. I love a man who curls.

I treasure these sweet moments.

That One Guy

2010-02-01T21:07:00.002-06:00

Last week, we had some pretty hairy weather warnings.

Which, for central Texas, means the threat of really, really cold weather.

I've been wondering, why is it that the news stations always find "that" guy to interview...

With millions of people in the D/FW area to interview, they always find the guy with a wad of snuff in his lower lip.

Because we're Texas and this is what our people is like.

And in the south, our mamas teach the boys to remove their hat at prayer time and stand when a grown-up enters a room. There's a lot to to learn before you can be a true southern gentleman.

So much so that spitting out your dip for a ten second t.v. interview is low on the list.

Thank goodness the ice warnings amounted to nothing in this immediate area. Because, man, we "just don't want gettin any hurt."

Or something like that.

What Are We Thinking, FAA?

2010-01-20T08:20:00.000-06:00

You know what's unnerving?

Boarding a plane in Johannesburg and hearing that we are delayed because someone checked their luggage but didn't board the plane.

Thankfully, they removed the person's luggage, but that got my nerves all in a stitch and I began to people watch.

It is so odd to me that airports sell alcohol and lighters in the terminal.

Because flammable liquids and flame throwers just scream, "Winning combination for safe travel!"

So, when two men boarded the plane with large bags of alcohol they'd just purchased in the duty free store, you can bet the Jack Bauer in me came out and I watched them like a hawk.

Until I gave in to sweet slumber about two hours into the 18 hour or so flight, but that's beside the point. I'm pregnant.

I'm not sure what was more reassuring over time...the fact that one of the men was reading a John Grisham novel (and I'm pretty sure that's not the last book a terrorist reads when they're about to meet their 72 virgins) or the fact that he later chose "The Time Traveler's Wife" for his movie selection. Either way, he became less of a terrorist and more of a cuddly little puppy in my mind.

We had a layover in Senegal and some new passengers boarded. My hackles were again raised when a flight attendant announced that two passengers needed to present themselves to a member of the crew because they'd checked in, but didn't board.

The two last names?

No, not Jones and Smith.

Ibrahim and Muhammed.

Sweet Moses, I needed a Xanax by that point.

Now, those names wouldn't concern me in most instances, just when those names happen to be mentioned because they didn't bother to board after they checked their baggage.

So now the Jack Bauer and the Angus MacGyver in me came out.

I don't know why I threw MacGyver's name out, except that he was a crime fighter, too.

And, he didn't like guns. Which was good, because they don't let you bring guns on planes anyway.

But they do let you bring alcohol and lighters on board and I've seen an episode or 80 where MacGyver found a clever way to use those two things to his advantage.

We departed from Senegal a little late, but with no concluding word on what happened with our friends with Muslim-but-that-doesn't-mean-terrorist-maybe-they-were-actually-children's-authors-or-stand-up-comedians-I'm-trying-to-be-PC-but-also-not-live-with-my-head-stuck-where-the-sun-don't-shine-names.

Later, when I got tired again and really just wanted to sleep and not be Jack Bauer or MacGyver anymore, I strolled to the back of the plane, found a flight attendant and casually inquired if they'd located the missing men and she assured me they had.

Clearly, I, Ibrahim, Muhammed and Man Watching The Time Traveler's Wife all arrived at our intended destinations without ending up as breaking news.

And, if there's anything I learned during that 18 hour flight, it was that maybe the FAA allows alcohol on board for a reason. It turns out I sure could've used a couple of swigs from those bottles of wine to help me through ~~my obsessive paranoia~~ the long flight.

Mr. Sandman...Bring Me An Espresso...

2010-01-17T23:54:00.004-06:00

There are few things worse than pregnancy fatigue.

Except pregnancy fatigue combined with jet lag.

Oh my word.

Somebody give me an amen.

My teammates in South Africa kept commenting how they couldn't believe how much energy I had for it to be my first trimester. I made it until Thursday before I had to start going to bed before everyone else and, even then, I was able to do VBS the next day and forge through the remaining days until I got on the plane and headed home. Honestly, God sustained me and gave me the supernatural ability to make it through that week as well as I did. There is no other explanation.

Because now...NOW, I AM FEELING THE SLEEP.

At the beginning of the week, I dismissed it as really bad jet lag. I mainly slept the first leg of my flight instead of the second, so it was natural to be tired. But, man, I've been home six days and the reality has set in...

I'm pregnant.

And, dang, I'm tired!

My poor guys probably think I'm still back in South Africa, as I disappear for hours at a time once I lay down. Even when I wake, it takes me an hour or more to fully come alive. I drift in and out of sleep, all the while hearing my boys playing and feeling the need to get up and make their dinner.

And, yet, I guess all the good mothering intentions are not strong enough to battle THE SLEEP because I drift off into slumber again for at least the next 60 or 127 minutes.

Tonight, I decided to reassure my family I was still among the living when I first woke. I didn't have the strength to get up, so I decided to pass on a loving message from bed. I yelled, "I'M AWAKE!"

Twice.

Unfortunately, the speakers and the Wii were turned too high for anyone to acknowledge my attempt to reach out to the living. I thought about adding, "I'M ALIVE!" but then I fell asleep before I could muster up the energy.

Holy cow, come on second trimezzz...trimest...zzz...tri...zzz.....................

Things I Look Forward To

2010-01-09T13:20:00.006-06:00

1. The lighting just before the sun sets.

2. When the boys have finally fallen into slumber and no one needs water, a potty trip, bandaids or anything else they can think of.

3. The day my kids invite Jesus into their heart.

4. Christmas decorations going up! And I am one of those that doesn't mind if they go up the day after Halloween.

5. Spring weather.

6. November 2, 2010. If you have to look up what happens on that date, it's as if you don't know me at all. I'll give you a hint. I just got a little blue card in the mail the other day and it was like I won the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.

7. Massages.

8. The boys' hugs first thing in the morning and after school. Brian's, too.

9. Brian coming home from work. You mommas know what I mean!

10. Vacations.

11. The moment when all the groceries are finally put away instead of sitting on my floor where I dump them after I walk in from an exhausting trip with two rambunctious boys.

12. The day Brian and I can call Dave Ramsey and yell, "We're debt free!" That will be awhile.

13. Hugging my family when I get off that plane in two days...

That last one is second best of all, just behind #3.

Things I Dread

2009-12-27T21:20:00.001-06:00

1. That moment right before the shot needle plunges in.

2. Splashing cold water on my face first thing in the morning.

3. Confrontation.

4. Surgeries.

5. Getting the kids ready for bed.

6. The boys waking up way earlier than I'm ever ready.

7. The alarm clock.

8. Getting family pics made.

9. Police cruiser lights in my rearview mirror.

10. Taking tests.

11. Shopping for clothes.

12. Going to the DMV.

13. Long lines.

14. Waking Noah. I would rather wake a sleeping momma bear by stepping on her cubs' heads.

15. Saying goodbye to my family when I head back to South Africa in five days.

That last one is the hardest of all.

No Dreaming Here!

2009-12-24T20:32:00.008-06:00

It's Christmas Eve and we've had a couple of Christmas miracles.

First, is this...
It was in the mid-70's yesterday. We are now several hours into this falling snow and our temps are in the 20's. Welcome to Texas, y'all.

It's the first time in over 80 years this area has had a white Christmas.

The second miracle of note was that the boys went to bed without any arguing or stalling. Any parent can appreciate what a miracle that truly is. Noah was in bed in exactly 2.8 seconds. And I think he may be giving himself hives over the fact that Brian and I are still awake. We've been tracking Kris Kringle via NORAD and when Noah proclaimed that Santa was on the southern tip of Texas, nothing in us desired to tell him it was actually Argentina and that Santa still had a ways to go. When a kid's actually motivated to get in bed one of 365 days, why fight a good thing? Merry Christmas to me.

This is our first Christmas Eve to spend as just the four of us. Tomorrow, we'll wake up to our own Santa gifts and enjoy a new tradition of spending Christmas morning at home. As part of that tradition, we read the Christmas story at bedtime, stripped of any jolly old men, merry little elves or toys made in China (do kids ever notice that?!). No, this was the original and true Christmas story - simple, signed into Old Testament prophecy, sealed in the form of a little baby and delivered with love. The very best gift ever.

But Noah, in all his panic, didn't think we had time to read AN ENTIRE BOOK. It started off well enough, with Brian asking the boys what Christmas is all about. In the Christmas video at school, Tyler enthusiastically replied, "Opening presents!" while Noah solemnly stated, "Jesus." I suppose Tyler has come a little way since then, as tonight's response was, "Giving presents." And, when Brian asked Noah what happened to Jesus that we celebrate at Christmas, his answer was, "He died on the cross."

Holy cow. Are these the two same kids who are at church twice a week and who attend a Christian preschool?!

Anyway, it about killed Noah that we had to read AN ENTIRE BOOK while Santa was still wishing Feliz Navidad to some kids south of here. So, in protest, this is how he spent our special Christmas story time while Tyler was all ears.

Incidentally, I think my OCD has filtered over into Noah. When most kids leave a note for Santa, they express their undying love and appreciation for the jolly fellow. At the very least, they wish Santa safe travels or remember to thank him for coming by.

But then there are letters like this...

Because when your dad has had to lay the flooring four times due to a stubborn dip in the concrete, I suppose you feel like you have to explain why your sorry parents never got a Christmas tree up under which Santa is supposed to present his yearly offerings.

Indeed, this is the first year we will go without a tree. It's kind of sad, but between my SI joint being out, traveling, our floor and the fact that I head to South Africa on New Year's Day, we decided to go without. The only thing I have out is one little nativity scene, which, really, is the focal point of the season anyway.

And, as the children are nestled all snug in their bed, I suppose Brian and I should relieve Noah of his stress and get our cap and 'kerchief and our long winter's nap on.

We wish you and yours a warm and joyous Christmas. We are so thankful for and humbed by all the blessings God pours over us. Most of all, for the little babe born in a barn because His Daddy loves us so much.

And, Feliz Navidad, Santa. See you soon!

Oh, I Wish I Had An Oscar Mayer Weiner

2009-12-08T06:57:00.014-06:00

A few weeks ago, our Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group had a seminary professor as a guest speaker. His talk was about teaching your kiddos about sex. Obviously, our little ones are too young to really grasp the entire concept, but he gave his opinion about what age to start introducing specific topics.

Starting with what to call your private parts.

He is of the opinion that children ought to know proper names for body parts from the start. I am indifferent to that opinion when it comes to someone else's children. I say teach them what you're comfortable with. Yes, it would oog me out to have a three year old walk up to me, replay the scene from Kindergarten Cop and deliver that famous one liner, "Boys have a p---- and girls have a v-----." But, to each his own.

However, for our household, "it" has always been addressed by it's proper scientific name - "weiner." Somehow, as Brian and I considered the vast list of options before us - willy, wee wee, tee tee'r, ding a ling and so on - we settled on "weiner."

And, as for "that," well, we just don't discuss Mommy's "that." I still can't write the word here, but I think I could handle using the proper term for men with the boys. HOWEVER, I GET ALL SQUEEMISH AND WANT TO GIGGLE AND RUN AWAY when I think of using the v word around my boys!!!! I even want to giggle when my gynecologist uses it. She does not think that is funny, though. So, for now, I'm at peace with the boys thinking I bring the fourth weiner to the family set.

At least I was until this professor's talk.

After his talk, I decided I'd like to be all progressive and secure with my privates and use the proper names like the cool, new millennium mommies do. The opportunity was perfectly presented when Tyler followed me into the bathroom one day. As he studied me sitting down, he asked, again, if I have a weiner. This is a topic of conversation, well, nearly everytime I go to the bathroom with an audience.

Don't you just love that precious, precious curiosity.

So, I sucked in my breath and decided this was the big day. We were going to have "the talk."

Not "that" talk, but the three year old version of "the talk."

I decided the best way was to make no big deal out of it and just state the facts. And this is what I gave him...

"Well, Tyler, you know what, girls don't have a, um, (cough), um, a...well, we don't have a...

Weiner."

Failure #1. Attempt #2...

"You know, Tyler, girls have a....(cough), um, mommies have....

Something Else."

Failure #2.

Attempt #1 to save the day and still be a fun, if not cool, progressive, new millennium Mommy with an abundance of maturity...

"Hey! Wanna go watch some cartoons?!"

I know, I know. I'm disappointed in myself, too. I thought I could do it, but, when the moment came, I couldn't make my lips go into those shapes and shove the words out.

But, you know what? That is why God made Blockbuster and why Arnold became an actor. And that is why, when they turn 13, we'll be renting Kindergarten Cop.

So what if I'm stuck in 1990? They made cool moms back then, too.

Clean "Teef!"

2009-12-07T23:11:00.001-06:00

Tyler had his first dental appointment and was pretty excited about it.

I think it helped that he remembered the little play area from Noah's appointment.

Ooh, the anticipation. I wish I were this cool and collected in the dentist's chair.

But maybe if they gave me cool sunglasses and Scooby Doo to watch, that might encourage me a little.

Tyler's confused. He thinks, "Let me get this straight, we're paying them this much money and this little mirror is all they can afford? " He wasn't impressed.

He's just hoping they didn't skimp on their stickers.

Notice how rigid Tyler's hand stays in this video. He put on such a brave face, but his body language belied his tension.

My dad remembers a dentist appointment he took me to around middle school. As he waited in the waiting room just outside the exam room, he could see my feet rising off the bed. My feet stayed elevated nearly the entire appointment.

I miss having abdominal excellence like that.

Sigh...

Anyway, Tyler did great on his first vist to the dentist. What a champ! And, no cavities!

Time for stickers! And, yeah, they were awesome.

Twistaaaa

2009-12-07T22:49:00.004-06:00

Noah decided to bust out Twister the other night.

Maybe holding your mouth a certain way helps pull off crazy yoga moves.
Daddy decided to get in on the action.

Noah decided playing tackle was more fun.

What do you think of our new flooring? It's still a work in progress, but I'm loving the easy clean-up and lack of stains!!!!

Let's just hope it can hold up to the continued tackling that's sure to happen with three boys in the house.

Homecoming

2009-12-05T22:28:00.004-06:00

I have the best brother in the universe.

Maybe you think you do.

But, really, I do.

For someone who's always been my little brother, he's always taken care of me like he's the big brother.

When he lived in the states, we talked nearly everyday.

Now that he's overseas, I miss that greatly. I also miss getting to see him more often. We had the chance to fly up and see him when he had some training in Seattle last April, but he hadn't been home in almost 20 months.

And Texas just isn't the same republic without him.

So, boy, were we ready to welcome him home at Christmas.

Even my parents' dog was in on the excitement about to take place at D/FW airport.

Mom set herself up in a prime spot - right at the glass doors so she could be the first to see him.

There was anticipation all around.

Boy, it takes a lot of time to get through customs.

Enough time to get through some sillies.

Jordan had plenty of time to check out the competition.

But she didn't pee on the airport floor like another dog did, so she was won the cuteness competition paws down.

Finally!!!!!

Scott came home to a red, white and blue out. 'Cause we're patriotic like that.

It didn't take long for the boys to get comfy with Uncle Scott!

HAPPY Christmas, indeed.

Well, I'll Be. It's November.

2009-11-18T00:02:00.008-06:00

Wow, November's been a silent blogging month. Even my friends haven't been updating their blogs as much. For me, it's a mixture of the busyness of back to back to back holidays and trying to cut back on time in front of the computer screen. It also seems I have a bad case of the "started a draft in my head, but never got it typed" thingy. Blogger's block, maybe?

One thing's for sure, we are getting to the stage where I'll be taping a lot of kid performances. Starting with the boys' preschool director's 25th anniversary last week and the songs the kids sang to her.

Here is Noah's performance. True to form, he has a laser-like focus on his music teacher. He is in the preschool music zone.

Here is Tyler's performance. The little long-haired girl next to him is Julia. True to form, he makes it about 53 seconds into the performance before he goes for a change of ~~face~~ pace.

Honestly, I'm just proud of him for standing on that stage for 2 1/2 minutes without kissing Julia.

Noah will make his big acting debut during tomorrow's Thanksgiving skit. He gets to be a pilgrim ready for a feast with the natives. Stay tuned for another video!

Just Another Manic Thursday

2009-10-29T22:36:00.013-05:00

Part Uno

I chose the most humid, windy day to get my driver's license renewed.

Incidentally, when did they start calling organ donation an "anatomical gift?" Creepy.

After spending some extra time getting ready because, you know, these things are part of your life for six whole years, I walked out of the house to about the thickest humidity and wind combination you can imagine for October.

I'm still trying to figure out this concept called "plan ahead."

I have a feeling I'm going to regret my lack of foresight when I get my new dl in about six weeks and I look like Nick Nolte's long lost love child.

For the next six years. Awesome.

Little known fact that he got passed up for the role of Han Solo. That went to Harrison Ford instead. But maybe he was the hair inspiration for Chewbacca, so I guess he didn't really lose out in the end. Chewbacca rocks.

Anyway, I walked in to the DMV to find that, GLORY BE, I was first in line. I'm not sure what was the greater shock: that the DMV was line-free or that I got somewhere before anyone else did.

As I stood at the front of the line, I glanced around and noticed a bathroom. I then had to wrestle with the question of whether one last mirror check was worth risking my place in line. Since no one else followed me in, I decided to tempt fate and walked into the bathroom to see about a mirror.

And one glance in that mirror affirmed my decision to check things out. Glory be, it is amazing what walking through a blanket of humidity will do to your hair.

It was then that I saw in the reflection a hand dryer...

The fates then turned the tables and decided to tempt me. And, I, the girl who is lucky to walk out of the house with matching shoes and, I, the girl who applies make up at stoplights, found myself feeling a little self conscious about being hair twins with Chewbacca the next six years.

So, I eyed the faucet, then eyed the dryer and then the faucet again.

Well, you know what I did.

Oh yes I did.

I took that glorious stream of water and ran my fingers through my hair to get it just damp enough to work with. It was like my own little Regis Salon, only with a commode just feet from me. And the possibility of being caught in my embarrassing state of vanity if another person walked in.

But, there turned out to be enough risk taker in me and, after some hurried primping, I walked out to find that in about two short minutes, I was suddenly the third person in line. And, though there were employees buzzing all around, that is one place where a lot seems to be going on, but nothing productive appears to be happening.

Sort of like my daily routine as a Mom. Sometimes I feel like I couldn't be busier, but then I look around and wonder what the heck I've accomplished.

Anyway, who knows what my hair did before I actually got to the front of the line and had my picture snapped. We'll see in a few weeks, I guess.

Well, I will. There's a high probability you never will.

Unless we are trying to one-up each other in who looks most like a Star Wars character in their ID.

In which case I win. And I have the photo to prove it.

Part Dos

I had it in my mind that I had some shopping to do that same day. Thursdays are my best errand days since the boys are in school. I had a couple of stops to make before going to a local grocery store's going out of business sale. I was tempted to go home, though, when the downpour that brought on all that humidity finally arrived mid-morning and left me with little ability to see very far. Once I made the mad dash to my car, I hurried to roll down my windows to clear them, wiped my mirrors and used the back of my hand to wipe my windshield so I could see through the fogged up window. I nearly re-parked, though, when I realized I could barely see. I had never seen it rain so hard I couldn't even see the road right in front of me. Glory be, it was bad.

It was then that I finally realized I didn't have my wipers on.

You know, the things you turn on FIRST when trying to see through rain.

I think the fates came back and taunted me for giving in to their earlier temptation at the DMV.

Nonetheless, I made it to the grocery store, where I saved 71%, but also stocked up on things I am not sure I would normally buy.

I was, however, excited to score a great deal on some dried fruit (raisins, cranberries, cherries, etc.) Until I noticed the Use By date was January.

2009.

Nine months ago.

Glory be. I think I see why they went out of business.

Part Tres

Picked the boys up from school only to learn that Tyler had found other "activities" to pursue during nap time. His teacher told me four of the kids, Tyler and three girls, were placed in one area for nap time. Somehow, all four ended up with their heads in the same corner where all their nap mats met. His teacher then noticed that Tyler was stroking all three of the girls' hair and giving kisses to one little classmate, Julia. It's like he has a harem now.

And when I think harem, I no longer think "Casanova."

I think..."Hugh Hefner."

Glory be.

Father/Son Campout & Mother/Son Girls' Night Out

2009-10-25T22:31:00.009-05:00

Our church had a father/son campout Friday night in Van Alstyne. Tyler was supposed to go, too, but he's had some snotty nose thing going on and I didn't want him to get worse in the 40 degree weather. It might just be allergies since he has nothing else going on, but I wasn't willing to risk pneumonia or swine flu to test his immune system.

Ah, swine flu, how you have slowly sucked the fun out of life.

Instead, Tyler got to hang out with a bunch of women at girls' night at the Andersons' house. Thankfully, there was another little preschooler there for T to play with. (Girls' night outs have changed over the years. We bring our kids, wear pj's, drink hot tea and leave by 10 p.m. Before we know it, they'll consist of bingo, knitting, conversations about cold cream and a 7:30 bedtime.).

Anyway, I think he was impressed with Maggie's train playing skills. They played so well together and kept themselves entertained while the mommies played games and talked. After we got home, Tyler looked deep into my eyes and declared, "Maggie is so pretty." What can I say? He has a heart for girls. It's like I'm raising Casanova.

As for our camping men, they had a blast. This is Noah jumping around in the tent once it was erected. Pitched. Whatever.
This is the guys eating dinner (weiners and chips). After raining all of Wednesday, the ground was still muddy. I'm having such a blast getting the mud out of those jeans. Clorox 2...I heart you.
This is Noah making a smiley face out of chips. I'm wondering if they also served some "special" brownies...Noah thought it would be fun to make a bunk bed out of their cots. Not sure it worked out very well.Brian noticed stadium lights not too far from their camp site (it's like he has an internal GPS for anything sports related), so they hopped in the car to watch some Van Alstyne football. Brian got to see several kids he used to coach and Noah scored a ring pop and some hot cocoa.

Back at the tent, there were a couple of card sharks playing Rummy and Old Maid. Looks like Brian is going down. And even though they had extra blankets, thick sleeping bags, sweatshirts and knit caps on, Brian got very little sleep from being cold and hearing people snore. Somewhere in the night, there was a thief who stole his extra blanket. We are not sure, but we suspect it was a five year old thief, judging by they muddy tracks he left behind. The next morning, they awoke to some kids using their tent as third base.

This next pic is with one of the boys' buddies, Grant. I just love the mud splatters on his face. I'm sure his Daddy did, too. Poor guy ran out of clothes from all the falling in the mud!

Despite cold weather, stolen blankets, mud, special brownies and all, they still had a blast and Noah spent Saturday night seriously wailing about wanting to go camping again. THAT night. I mean, it was the ugly cry. For over 20 minutes. Or 30, I don't remember which. But, it was sincere and that's what counts.

I get it, though. The smell and warmth of a campfire, marshmellows roasting, sleeping outdoors, solitude, relating to each other with a lack of distractions, crisp air...I get it.

There is just something special about getting back to the simple things of life.

So, if the weather cooperates, I think the four of us will find ourselves on our own camping trip and dancing in a tent in a couple of weeks. Looks like I'll be buying some more Clorox 2. Oh, how I heart the Clorox 2.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

2009-10-16T09:52:00.004-05:00

Tyler surprised us when he said something about his son the other day. When we looked to see what he was talking about, we saw that he had declared his stuffed monkey his son. He named him Cracks.

A couple days later, he again said something about his son. When I looked over to see what he meant, I learned that he has another son, a stuffed tiger. The tiger is named Tiger.

Cracks and Tiger. How appropriate that Tyler's sons are a monkey and a tiger.

The evidence of monkey DNA is clear in this picture.

As for his tiger DNA, one of his favorite games to play is actually called "Tiger." We take turns pretending to be tigers as we growl at and then pounce on each other. Who needs a Wii when you've got his imagination?

As for Cracks, I don't know where he got that. There is no evidence of looney behavior in this family.

None at all.

Educatin' & Indoctrinatin' & Goofinatin'

2009-10-14T18:05:00.008-05:00

This video is for family, Old Glory lovers across the United States of de America and for those who need a refresher on our solar system. Also people who don't mind spending 4 minutes of their life watching other people's kids' shenanigans.

This is not for people who actually know what Galatians 5:13 says or those who get grossed out by spit. Clearly we have some work to do.

This video is a public service announcement for MISD parents - this man is teaching your kids. At least we can be thankful Brian is an (amazing) engineering teacher and not an earth science teacher. I apologize in advance for our irreverent mockery of global warming. I blame our behavior on global warming.

Noah has clearly been studying the solar system at school. Today, he announced that Uranus is his favorite planet. Logic told me Noah is too young for little boy jokes about Uranus, but I still nervously braced myself as I replied, "Oh yeah? Why is that?" To which he said, "Because Uranus is blue and blue is suh-weeeet!"

Suh-weeeet sigh of relief.

Tech vs. Fuzzy

2009-10-14T00:36:00.007-05:00

Brian was an architecture major, taught math for eight years and is now teaching engineering design.

I was a business major.

We played Old Maid during family game night a couple nights ago.

I don't know how much our degrees are an indication of our personalities, but the following made me laugh aloud when I noticed it. Here are our two piles of matching cards. I think they are very indicative of our personalities. Given what you know about our degrees, I'll let you decide which pile was Brian's and which was mine.

Roses Are Red...And Too Darn Expensive!

2009-10-12T19:37:00.008-05:00

Brian has been married long enough to know I don't like having flowers ordered for me. Even buying them at the store is kind of questionable.

This is weird, I acknowledge.

I love flowers...love, love, love them. Fresh flowers brighten up a home so much. But, paying for those fresh flowers is not worth it to me. Reason tells me that money could be put into something that is going to be with you more than four days. I happen to like reason.

So, 13 years into this, I get flowers occasionally, but not enough times to make me worry about our bank balance over them.

Tonight, Noah ran to the store with Brian to get some chili and s'more ingredients. As they passed the flowers, Noah excitedly said, "Oooh, Daddy! I want to buy some flowers for Mommy!"

(Noah gets so excited anytime he finds a flower for me. On our walks, he can usually spot a dandelion or two and he totally delights in surprising me with them. It's those kinds of flowers any Mommy loves best.)

Brian hesitated, trying to decide how to break the news ~~of his Mommy's abnormal resistance to receiving flowers~~ to him gently. He then looked up to lock eyes with a woman smiling and nodding to tell him that, yes, he was indeed going to make it home with flowers tonight. Or risk looking like a jerk in front of her. Still, he stayed strong and told Noah, "No, buddy, not tonight."

But as they walked off, Brian said he felt like an ogre and changed his mind. So, Noah happily walked alongside the floral selection and sniffed until he found the perfect bouquet.

He sniffed to find what he deemed the most fragrant ones. I think that is sweet.

And I do think he found the perfect bunch.

Really, what's a few dollars when you get such tangible thoughtfulness? I can look at these for at least four days and be reminded Noah loves me. And his Daddy does, too. There will come a day when our boy is more worried about getting flowers for another girl. So, I'll take them while I can.

Sometimes you've just gotta be a little unreasonable.

And, anyway, this girl Noah meets might turn out to be the kind of girl who likes getting flowers that aren't of the yard picked dandelion variety.

Reason tells me this is good practice.

Work With Me

2009-10-12T17:55:00.006-05:00

Hey Barkley, remember that time I vacuumed your fur off our couch? Remember how I painstakingly ran that Dirt Devil over and over our couch, carefully going over each crease to remove all bits of you from it? Remember how I laid your cozy bed next to the couch so you could still be near us? Remember that?

As in, an hour ago?

Apparently not.

$7 for South Africa

2009-10-08T15:28:00.012-05:00

A.P. English was my favorite subject in high school. I loved digging deeper and finding meaning behind an author's words. The characters took on greater depth when there was symbolism and meaning behind the words used. The challenge of interpretation and not just reading for pleasure made books come more alive for me.

I am so much better at interpreting words than art, it seems.

I still love symbolism today, but I'll explain more later.

In January, I will return to South Africa for the third time.

Okay, let me rephrase that...

In JaNuArY (84 days!), I wIll (hip hip hooray!) ReTuRn tO (fist bump!) SOUTH AFRICAAAAAAAAA (glory be!) fOr ThE tHiRd TiMe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(turning cartwheels)

There is no way to describe how excited I am at this unexpected trip, so I hope the obnoxious overuse of exclamation points, capitalization and colors conveys some of it. When my plane landed back in Dallas last October, I really thought it would be the end of trips for me for awhile. We had hoped to have a third child by now and I just figured it would be at least three years before I could go back to this country I love so much. I had settled it in my heart that it would be a long time.

A few weeks ago, Kim, who talked me into going on the first two trips with her, told me she was going back to SA. Later, she sent me details on an upcoming info meeting. I ignored the email, figuring I wasn't going back anytime soon anyway. Well, days after she sent that, I re-read her blog entry about going back to SA.

Which got me thinking.

And thinking is what got me to South Africa the first two times!

Darn Kim.

I pulled up the email I'd overlooked days before and re-read it, this time with some "what if" in my mind. As I read, something in me asked for some confirmation, just something to let me know if I was supposed to be on this trip.

SECONDS later, I got a pop up sound on my computer, signaling that someone wanted to chat with me on Facebook. I clicked over to FB, blown away to find that it was Kim trying to chat.

As far as I remember, Kim and I had NEVER chatted on FB before then. So, after all the "holy cows!" and "no stinkin' way(s)!," I finally got it all out to Kim that I had just asked God to help me figure out if I'm supposed to go in January and then I get a chat message from the very girl that convince me to go the first two times. Confirmation #1.

Now, Gideon and I are the kind that turn a skeptical eye to reading too much into "signs," except I don't have wool lying around, so it appears God had to hit me upside the head with a few more confirmations over the coming days...

1. I was hit with immediate opposition, which always comes when you're striving to follow God. Satan tries to work weaknesses and make us stumble so we doubt ourselves. But I see that opposition = confirmation.

2. Within days, Habakkuk 1:5 was presented to me twice within 24 hours (thanks to Ryan Pitts and Scott Rhoades). It deserves its own paragraph, it's so beautiful...

Look at the nations and watch—and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.

Now how often does Habakkuk come up in everyday circumstances? Confirmation x 2 in 24 hours = powerful stuff.

3. I read Jenny Simmons' blog (of Addison Road) because 1) we went to church together in high school and 2) her writing pretty much rocks my socks. She recently wrote about a girl who graduated from high school and then up and moved to Uganda to serve and love on as many children as she can. The girl feeds hundreds of starving, malnourished kids. In Jenny's blog, she wrote, "Just go, Jenny." If you go back and read Kim's blog entry, you will see why this phrase stuck out to me.

4. Noah was messing around on youtube. He likes to find Chipmunk or Dora versions of such musical highlights as 2 Legit To Quit and Crank Dat Soulja Boy. So, as he messed around, I suddenly heard a familiar tune I hadn't heard in a long time. As the notes played out, I realized it was Rhianna's Take A Bow. I got chills as the song took me back to a week last October when a 3rd grade South African girl serenaded me with that song over and over. And, let me tell Rhianna, she has some tough competition in that little girl. Who knew God could speak through R&B? It is 2009 after all.

5. I have until the end of this month to raise $2100 for my trip. I have received, with such blessing, $475 from friends who gave simply when I mentioned I was going back. Again, confirmation.

That leaves $1625 to go and I am not at all daunted. I'm actually kind of excited! Weird, I know.

Which leads me to a segue. And some symbolism.

Because I know this is a hard time for many and because I know many of you are already giving to things you believe in, I want to do something different with my fundraising this time. I think I'll have no trouble reaching $1625 if you and most of my FB friends find that you have $7 you could spare. $7 at a time will get me to South Africa and her people I love and I would really be grateful for your help.

I chose the #7 because numbers have meaning in the Bible. Seven is representative of completion. God made the world in 7 days. I believe God will bring this aspect of my trip to completion by November 1st, when all payment is due.

Trip details: We will be at Fort White, helping local missionaries establish relationships. We will hold VBS for the kids and do some construction around the grounds. The trip is January 1-11. We are hoping to raise $500 to help build a playground as well.

So, friends, I'm asking for a couple of things. If you have $7 to help me get back to Africa, you can send your tax deductible gift to FBC McKinney at 1615 W. Louisiana Street in McKinney, TX (75069). Checks can be made out to FBC McKinney but please be sure to somehow indicate in the envelope that it is for my trip.

Oh, they are going to love me in that finance office with these $7 checks coming in!

In addition, I would love your prayers for our team and for the beautiful people we will meet. Among other things, a few of us have young kids at home. It is never easy to leave people you love for ten days. It is even harder to leave little children who don't quite get why Mommy is flying across the ocean to take care of kids there. Please pray for our kiddos and the people loving on them while we are gone.

Honestly, I thank you that I can even come to you with excitement over something like this and a request like this.

Friends, get ready...look at the nations and watch - you and I are going to be utterly amazed!

P.S. INCIDENTALLY, another number that has meaning in the Bible is 70. It happens to symbolize God's heart for the nations. The NATIONS - how cool is that?!

So, if you've got $70 lying around...

Kidding, of course.

Unless you do.

the Root of all Evil = MATH

2009-10-06T10:35:00.003-05:00

Isn't that in the Bible? Or something like that.

Last night, Noah used big, confusing words like "parallelogram, a rhombus is a slanted square, a pentagon has five sides, a hexagon has six and an octagon has eight."

Noah is in preschool. Preschool, people.

I'm beginning to worry I won't be able to help him with homework beyond third grade. Did I even know how to spell my name when I went to kindergarten? There was certainly no talk of rhombus' or hexagons when I was five.

Thank goodness Brian taught math for eight years!

Wait...is that right?

2 years at Anna Middle School
+ 2 years at Faubion Middle School
+ 2 years at Van Alstyne High School
+ 2 years at Boyd
8 years

Whew! At least simple addition hasn't left me!

Wait, they do still teach that through first grade, don't they?

A Day in the Life of Me

2009-10-04T11:51:00.007-05:00

The boys all woke up with various icky symptoms today, so they stayed home while I ran to a parenting class at church. Got home to hear Noah enthusiastically announce he had checked the weather. As in weather.com. As in he located it on the internet. He even entered the zip code by himself, which he located on an envelope when he got two of the numbers swapped in his memory. Mr. Al Roker wannabe told me it was going to rain a lot, probably all week. Good to know we'll be hauling around umbrellas and sporting rainboots for the week.

Also good to know A&M has a very good meterology program as it appears we're raising a weather ~~nerd~~ buff.

Later, Tyler was standing about five feet from me. I asked if he had a hug for me. He said, "Yes. Right here," and he stretched his arms out wide to the side. I asked if I could please have it and he said I had to get up and come get it. Good to know I'll have to earn my hugs from here on out.

Also good to know he's learned the value of playing hard to get.

These two fascinate me with their way of thinking. Good to know I get to keep them around for 18 years.

I Will Remember You

2009-09-30T23:36:00.007-05:00

This one is for me.

And for him or her.

I met my first nephew today, Caleb Olsen. We drove to east Texas last night after Brian's sister-in-law went into early labor and had an emergency c-section. The boys were so excited to meet Caleb, play with cousin Anna and be with their Nana and Paco.

Oh, and the news that they would get to stay in a hotel overnight was total icing on the cake. In any of our vactions, it would be no exaggeration to say that hotel stays are what make the vacation for them. In fact, when I announced our spur of the moment trip to Tyler as I rushed to pack, I decided it would be easier to initially tell him we were heading east to stay in a hotel than it would be to explain what "being born" means.

Lord help me when I try to figure out how to deliver the birds and the bees talk someday.

The hotel was all they dreamed it would be. At least, until Noah mistook the fire alarm for our door knob in the dark hallway and accidentally set it off around midnight. I'm pretty sure he'll never again make that mistake, given that his little body shook and his voice quivered the entire forever it sounded off.

Poor Tyler. His understanding of "being born" now includes a frazzled woman frantically running around the house to pack, a long drive, fire alarms and staying up way past his 8:00 bedtime. Let's hope it's not actually like that when his children are being born someday.

It's an understatement to say we were excited to meet Caleb. A baby is always a reason to celebrate, but especially when it's your niece or nephew! Can I tell you how awesome it's going to be to hear myself called, "Aunt Jen" for the first time?!

Logically, I knew our 11 p.m. arrival would be too late to make the stop at the hospital on the way into town, but it still was disappointing when we realized it would be morning before we could see him. We all got ants in our pants waiting for 11 a.m. this morning, when we met up with Brian's family to go to the hospital. And while we had been warned that little kids (other than siblings) could not go into the mommy ward, I am so thankful for my brother-in-law's thoughtfulness (and lawlessness) in sneaking our boys in to see their cousin anyway. I've since learned you can carry any number of kids back into the mommy ward if you just act like they belong to you and also avoid all eye contact with anyone at the nurses' station as you smuggle them inside.

All that illegal migration of undocumented "siblings" was worth it. It was so special to see this bunch together...

Caleb is totally precious. Skin so perfect and countenance so sweet. He's so chilled out and I am so thrilled for my niece, his big sister, Anna. So. Thrilled. I have a little brother and he is one of my best friends. How can you top having a brother that loves you as you are, is forgiving and forgetting of your uglies and who would do anything for you, whether that be risking his life to protect you or eating the veggies you can't seem to get off your plate? Scott hasn't done the first, unless being a soldier counts...which I think it does. But, the veggie thing was an actual event. Being eight is so much easier when you have a little brother who will help you eat your veggies so you can be excused from the dinner table.

Because Brian and I were blessed with rockstar brothers, I can't wait for Anna to experience how very cool they can be. Once she gets past the "why is my Mommy holding that little thing and when is he leaving" stage, that is! She was so cute in how leery she was in meeting Caleb. I remember how slowly Noah took it all in those first few minutes. I know that Anna will warm up to her little brother in no time, just as Noah did.

In short, I love my little nephew and think he was born into a pretty wonderful family. It is such a joy and a blessing that we could be there to witness the beginning of Caleb's story.

We love you, Caleb, and we are so glad you are in our family!

Now...

I have gone back and forth about whether to include the rest of this because nothing in me wants to take anything away from this incredible time.

And even though I wasn't completely honest about my feelings with people I love today, I feel like I need to be honest here.

Today was a little hard for me, given that Katie and I were just three weeks apart in our due dates. When we got the news that Katie was in labor yesterday, I was surprised at how raw my heart still is over the baby we lost. I was not able to restrain my tears when I got the news. I felt both surprised and guilty. How could I be sad at at time like this?

Meeting Caleb today, so many emotions rushed over me...absolute awe at what God created, absolute joy over his life, absolute respect for his parents whom I know will raise him well, absolute excitement for Anna and her sibling...

And absolute grief that my arms will not hold our own little newborn in three weeks.

Grief that had to be held in check when I first held Caleb. Grief that I couldn't show when we walked out of the hospital and as we ate lunch with Brian's family.

What has been building up all day finally releases.

I write this because I want to remember what joy this day held. I do love this little boy called Caleb.

But, I also write this for someone else I love. Some little boy or girl I don't want to be forgotten.

I hope that all who read this will see my heart or will forgive me if they don't. I am thrilled about Caleb's arrival and how beautiful it is, this new family of four. I am sad because I can't help but think of the little baby I lost.

Somehow, I think it's okay that those opposing feelings exist in my heart and that it is okay to simultaneously be happy for someone and sad about someone else.

So, God, I trust that you will do something with this someday. I know you hold the bigger picture behind my two miscarriages and I ask, even if I never see that bigger picture, that your peace will pour over and be evident in me. I hope you get so much glory from this.

And, please, God, hold my two little treasures in heaven extra tight for me tonight.

Thanks, God. I love you.

His Imagination

2009-09-29T13:30:00.002-05:00

I just love little kids' imagination. They have such a fun way of looking at the world. It's so hilarious to hear their thoughts and watch them figure this world out.

Sunday, Tyler and Zachary B. were in Sunday school class together. The teacher was not there yet, so some of the parents waited with their kids. Brian suddenly heard Zach's mom laugh and asked her what happened.

It seems as if the boys had turned their blocks into guns. They made "pyu pyu" sounds as they pretended to shoot each other. Zachary threatened, "My gun has ANTS in it!"

To which Tyler retorted, "My gun has spiders and HOT SAUCE in it!"

Hot sauce. Si. Indeed a weapon of mass destruction. It's wreaked havoc on my intestines a time or two. I don't know where Iran is getting its enriched uranium, but if that runs out, I suppose they could always make a run for the border and get themselves some hot sauce.

Noah Speaks Seuss

2009-09-28T15:15:00.009-05:00

Imagine my delight when Noah opened a Dr. Seuss book and declared he would read to me last night. Imagine my surprise when he actually read big words I didn't realize he could conquer.

Oh boy, the joy when, oh that brain, they do employ! Wringle, wrangle, wrum, bang on a drum. A good book I do enjoy, when night has fallen and the toys are done.

In other words, I'm loving watching him fall in love with reading!

Y'all Want Some Rice With That?

2009-09-22T13:04:00.002-05:00

Growing up a military brat, I was surrounded by diversity. Especially when we lived in Korea and there were many other hapas like me. It was easy to get through nearly my first half of life not giving any thought to whether my physical appearance made me stand out from my friends. Because it didn't. We were all different. I never looked in a mirror and caught myself thinking, "Why, hello, Asian girl! Why can I never tell if your eyes are open or closed? Want some rice?"

(Well, maybe the last part of that. I do love me some rice.)

Anyhoo, moving to Texas was an altogether different story. It started with going to high school in south Dallas. It became more obvious when I went to a university where the Asian population was about seven (the sushi chef, some math professors and me) and I started to notice something was way different.

Case in point, I offer you two photos taken on a boot scootin' night my fish year. Please glance quickly at them and then tell me who stands out like a sore Asian thumb wearing boots and an enormous belt buckle. With her pants hiked way up and needing an eyebrow plucking intervention.

I do wonder what those cowboys thought when they saw this crew of dancers and a lone math professor walking into Denim and Diamonds.

There's an episode of Golden Girls where one of the girls sits on a plane and starts speaking slowly and loudly to the Asian man sitting next to her. He spends the whole flight quietly accommodating her need to talk. It's not until much later in the episode that it's revealed that the guy actually has been able to understand her English the entire time and he, in fact, has a very heavy southern accent.

I can so relate! Most people don't assume I don't speak English (some only assume I am skilled at both chopsticks and nunchucks), but I wonder sometimes if it surprises them that I have a southern accent. And, this accent is not something I give much thought to until I'm out of the south. As in Colorado, for example, and it's only then that I realize I sound very well, southern. Beyond the "y'alls," there is a very distinct drawl I never hear until I'm north of the Mason Dixon. Suddenly I sound like I came with the last name Clampett and a Granny who thinks the South won the Civil War.

And, suddenly, I am aware of two things.

#1...I sound very Texan. #2...I feel very Asian. Funny how, when you mix the two, one makes the other stand out so much more.

Because you see a white girl with a southern accent and you think nothing of it. Or, you see an Asian girl with a Californian accent and no one pays much attention. BUT, you hear an Asian girl fixin to piddle with a do-hicky and you'd think I was three sheets to the wind. We're scarce as teeth on a hen, I tell y'all.

But it's not like I can go back on my raisin'. I am both Asian and Texan and I am proud.

And I am thankful. I give thanks because I can go to my parents house and eat both BBQ chicken and kimchi on the same day. One day, I opened up my parents' fridge to find some yummy kimchi soup. Mmm, there is just no way to put its deliciousness into words. I stood there in the cold fridge doorway and audibly offered thanks to God or my Dad (I don't remember which) for my Mom being Korean.

I do get the best of both worlds, y'all.

If You've Got It, Phlaunt It

2009-09-21T00:30:00.016-05:00

I strolled around the Square the other day, something I rarely do. I had special ordered something for B's birthday, so I decided to kill some time while the welder was at work.

I ~~could afford shopping on the Square if we could just stop feeding our kids~~ just adore the Square. I love the atmosphere and the chance to browse in such a charming part of town. I can feel myself relaxing as I slowly stroll in and out of the stores there. I do enjoy a good window shop, even if I don't buy anything.

I stepped into one whimsical looking store and noticed this belt buckle...

Which, I guess if you're going to carry around some baby fat, you may as well own it and bling it up. Shake what 'cha baby gave ya!

And, I've decided to start addressing my baby fat as baby phat. I did go to high school in south Dallas, so I like to think my fat cells have a little hip hop in them. They are just in there, dancing around to some Will Smith. My mid-section is getting Jiggy With It.

I found out later that Baby Phat is actually an upscale urban clothing line. I thought this buckle was just a clever way to own your belly phat. I guess when your clothing line comes from Old Navy and Target, you kind of lose your hip hop fashion knowledge somewhere along the way.

Incidentally, we've been needing a new toilet paper holder. So, here is what the welder made for Brian.

We will, of course, be mounting that upside down as pictured. The Aggie Spirit is alive in our house. And in our bathroom.

So, holla. And, Gig'em.

Tyler & The Girl in the Purple Dress...& Samson & Delilah

2009-09-20T14:19:00.004-05:00

We've noticed that Tyler has become more reserved since the big rejection at Sea World. He seems to not walk up to kids and start up friendships like he used to. I think something really stuck with him when that happened with those girls. He also recently told me that some girls are nice and some are mean.

Well, I think he's getting his groove back. He ain't afraid to get back on that horse, it seems. Brian picked him up from Sunday school this morning and asked if he had fun. To which he replied, "Yes." Brian asked what he did in class and he said, "I hugged the girl in the purple dress two times." When Brian asked why, he said, "Pee-cause she was nice."

Mmhmm...

After we got home, Tyler walked around with some binoculars held up to his eyes. When Brian asked what he was looking for, he replied, "the girl in the purple dress."

We're going to have to find this little girl in the purple dress and thank her for restoring Tyler's self confidence and faith in women. He hadn't been the same since he was wounded by those krool girls. This could be a great lesson in forgiveness and restoration. Sort of like Joseph's story in the Bible. I like a good teachable moment.

Then again, it's occured to me that we may also need to teach Tyler a different Bible story.

Samson was also a floppy haired boy who fell in love with a woman...whom he loved to hug...who turned out to be his downfall...

C is for Cookie

2009-09-16T04:12:00.010-05:00

I think Brian is feeling a little sensitive about something.

And I don't blame him. He's got three cookie monsters living in this here house with him.

Cookies don't have a chance in our house. They have been known to disappear within a couple of days. Brian, being gone most of the day, misses out on his fair share.

And that makes him sensitive.

I baked a small batch after the kids were in bed. He told me he was going to put them up where the boys couldn't reach them.

I had no idea he meant 8 feet off the floor.

Frankly, I'm feeling a little sensitive myself. This goes beyond even my natural reach. I think he's trying to send a message as he seems to have gone through great lengths to make them inaccessible to even me.

I mean, you can't just reach the top of our cabinets unless you are Manute Bol or unless you have maneuvered your way onto the counter tops and then stood up to place the cookies above the cabinets.

I know this because I copied the maneuver later that night. Think he'll notice a missing cookie?

Summer 2009

2009-09-15T22:48:00.005-05:00

Even though summer isn't officially over, it's officially over. School started for Brian at the end of August and the boys started preschool last week. And, while I love these precious little things, it's amazing how my blood pressure seems to rise with the level of noise in the house.

Some people take pride in maintaining a steady weight between doctors visits. My source of pride is maintaining healthy blood pressure. Seriously, I cannot wait until they strap on that cuff and become amazed. 110/70, baby.

So, yes, preschool helps me maintain my solid gold performance when it comes to those blood pressure cuffs. But, man, it was a good summer...

We kicked it off with some Memorial Day fun at the Fort Worth Stockyards and Burger Lake. Yee haw and tattoos.

My dad, the boys and I drove to Denver for my cousin's wedding. Kansas...wow, you are enormous.

Brian went to Extreme Camp as a counselor with our youth group. Fun times. Hot times (Oklahoma June + broken A/C = sweat).

The boys went to visit Brian's family and got to experience the thrill that is Wonderland Park. Oooh, how this family loves us some log riding fun.

Brian went bald. By razor. By choice.

The boys made it through their first full movie at the theater. The fact that I'm documenting this should tell you how enormously significant it is. Our boys = ANTS in their pants.

My cousin, Abbey, came and stayed with us for a few days and went to VBS with us. Highlight of my summer - I was with her when she began her relationship with Jesus.

We celebrated our nation's independence with some friends who cleverly brought along some light sticks to keep the kids entertained before the fireworks. What was not so clever was the gigantic Curves hot air balloon inflated right before the fireworks started. Nothing says, "Happy Independence Day, America" like a gigantic Curves balloon amidst the fireworks.

Brian and I went to YoungLife camp in Colorado and signed on to work with the sophomore class. If you start to notice me adding letttttersss to my spelllllinnngggg, it's totally because I'm under the influence of teens.

We celebrated the lives of some incredibly precious people, Connor Cruse and Yallo David. Connor would have been nine at the beginning of October. He valiantly battled cancer and made more lasting impact than most of us could hope to leave. Please pray for his family as they mark Connor's first birthday in heaven. And, Yallo...a warrior as well.

And, as we remember God takes away, we also remember that He gives. We are getting ready to welcome another precious person to planet Earth. Caleb Olsen, our first nephew, will be here October 5th!

What else?

The boys honed their swimming skills. Noah can swim across the width of our pool and do somersaults off the wall (Momma did NOT teach him that. Hint: a bald headed man did.) As for Tyler, he loves to take his time floating/drifting towards us with an occasional kick. He always comes up smiling. Such his personality. He also can hold his breath like a saltwater crocodile. Well, maybe not three hours like a crocodile, but, man, it's impressive. And it also comes in handy when you rely solely on drifting to get you places.

There was also a considerable amount of slip n sliding. How fun to see them playing a toy we played with as children. Except we didn't have poufy inflated pillows at the end to stop us from launching face first right off the nice wet slide and into the rocks and burrs. Yeah, y'all know what I'm talking about. Children have it so easy these days.

Tyler turned three and had his first official birthday party. He had a party where he could show off his breath holding skills in the pool as well as his slip and slide techniques on the park lawn.

The boys got bunk beds for their birthdays. And we are still wondering why we thought it was a grand idea to put these two in the same room.

We took a vacation to San Antonio with my parents. Sea World couldn't contain us. Or the salt water that Shamu sloshed around. And Tyler has never been the same since he had his heart broken.

Brian got to see the Cowboys at training camp. The world could never be so right for him as during those 147 minutes.

Noah celebrated his fifth birthday with some bowling. He had his first official birthday party and decided to take it to Strikz. What's more insane than taking six rambunctious boys to a darkened room with loud music and letting them hurl 7 lb. balls as if it were a timed event? And then feeding them cake? Nothing.

Tyler learned how to write a "T." Just four more letters to learn before he can write his name. And only four more after that before he can write, "loves Mommy." Amazing how nine letters can make your day. And lower your blood pressure.

We went to a high school football game where the boys sat through an entire game for the first time ever. (Brian thinks that means they're ready for a Rangers game on Saturday. I had to remind him THAT is a test of even my ability to sit still. Since we're not even in contention anymore, does that mean we still stay all nine innings?)

Noah learned to ride a bike without training wheels. He did it completely on his own for the first time today. Pretty special.

We got to see a space shuttle and the International Space Station in orbit. I think the boys were underwhelmed. They don't get the giddies over space, the final frontier, like Brian and I do.

So, here is my first attempt at a slideshow. Here's our summer 2009!

Ah, these are "the good ol' days" indeed.

To Boldy Go Where Only John Travolta Can Go

2009-09-12T02:54:00.008-05:00

Tyler came across my sunglasses the other day.

Bless his heart, they moved him to spontaneously strike a disco pose.

And I suddenly had the urge to dig up a leisure suit for Brian, put some go go boots and a mini on and watch some Saturday Night Fever.

That Final Frontier Thing

2009-09-12T02:09:00.009-05:00

We took the boys out the other night to see the space shuttle and International Space Station. The shuttled had undocked from the International Space Station (ISS) earlier that afternoon and both were briefly visible orbiting in tandem. We were so excited to introduce space exploration to the boys and really talked it up that day.

Except, really, their eyes kind of glazed over when we tried to explain the International Space Station thingamajig.

I had to leave right after the sighting, so we drove to the end of our street where we'd spotted a crowd gathering to witness this historic event.

Until we got to the end of the street and realized it was really just a kids' football team ending practice and we were the only space nerds there to witness this historic event.

Kids these days...they think space shuttles are a dime a dozen. They hear "moonwalk" and they think of Michael Jackson.

Okay...I do, too, but that's besides the point.

Anyway, as thrilled as our boys were at the chance to go outside after bedtime, sit on our car roof and look for this thing called a space shuttle, I guess it was so dark they didn't hear me count to three and tell them to smile...

An astronomy teacher at Brian's school sent out a message earlier that day that he believed there were only six more shuttle missions planned and that this may have been the last opportunity to see the two orbiting so close together. He told us to look for two bright white dots that moved briskly towards the northeast.

So, after just a few short minutes of watching the dark Texas sky, we suddenly noticed two bright dots appear.

And while the dots were a lot more visible to the naked eye, I tried to capture the historic moment with the camera. Good to know that if I'd been unable to find the dots in my lenses, I could've later just snapped a pic in a dark closet and declared it a space shuttle photo.

If you wipe the dust off your monitor and look really closely while squinting, you might see the two dots placed vertically in the pic. I prefer to remember it in my heart.

Two flying objects. The vast outerness of space. The Final Frontier.

I leave you with something to ponder..."Space is almost infinite. As a matter of fact, we think it is infinite." Dan Quayle (Whoe maye stille be ponderinge this.)

Yep, He's Good...All the Time

2009-09-04T16:27:00.004-05:00

Words you should never say to someone who's hurting...

It could always be worse.

Words I tell myself all the time when I'm hurting...

It could always be worse.

Ironic, huh?

Tyler failed a vision test at his three year visit last week. His left eye passed while his right eye failed three times. I knew something was wrong when he passed in one eye and failed in the other. It couldn't have been the equipment in that case. I figured the boys would one day need glasses if they inherited my blind as a bat vision. However, I had always hoped that would come much later in life - like at least 6th grade, when I first got glasses.

T's been diagnosed with astigmatism in both eyes. He can still see, though he has some slightly blurred vision. It turns out astigmatism is hereditary and the doctor assured me it has nothing to do with how many carrots he eats or how much t.v. he watches, but guess what we'll be eating more of and doing less of the next few months anyway?

The astigmatism only causes concern if there is a significant difference in the eyes. Over time, the brain will make less connections with the weaker eye. T's doctor wants to see him again in six months to see if the difference increases. If so, he will need glasses.

And while I think Aaden Gosselin is so precious in his glasses, I shudder to think of how life would be for T in glasses. Do they make titanium lenses and frames? Because has LensCrafters seen the way my boys rough house?! And who will wipe raindrops from his glasses if I'm not with him? (Because, you know, Dallas is like Seattle's long lost rainfall sibling.) Will he be wearing two inch thick lenses by the time he's ten?

I know I have to tell myself to slow it down. We have another six months before we'll know anything.

So, we wait. And pray for improvement or no change in his vision until then.

In the meantime, I'm very blessed to be surrounded by incredible friends. When I posted the diagnosis on Facebook, I wrote, "T has astigmatism in both eyes and will have to be checked in six months to see if he'll need glasses. Almost cried when I heard that because he's only three! But, I have to have perspective. There are so many mommas worried about their kids for bigger health issues. I will just pray that his eyes get better, not worse, in the next six months!"

Several friends soon posted about their experiences with glasses at a young age (and assured me glasses can survive boyhoodness). Others encouraged me with their prayers and some even shared that their vision improved with age. Man, I really do have great friends and am grateful for the time they took to post their thoughts. It means a lot when people care about your kids.

One friend's private message struck me the most, though. I love being challenged to consider things differently and have always respected Loren's outlook on life. What he said really gave me reason to reconsider how I was looking at this diagnosis. He wrote...

"Sorry to hear about T. I once had a conversation with Steph about her thoughts on the conversation piece that goes like this, "Just found out my kid is going to need to have .... I need to have perspective though because God is good. I know there are other kids out there with worse issues like cancer or ...."

What do you do when you're the parent whose kid has the "worse" issue? Do you always compare upwards to a "worser" (I know that's not a word) issue?

Point is - God is good no matter the issue. Whether my kid needs braces, glasses, or needs chemo, God is good!"

RICH stuff, huh? So good that I spent my whole shower and time getting ready pondering what Loren shared. It pretty much rocked how I've looked at trials all my life. I thought I was doing pretty good to have a Pollyanna-esque attitude about life in general. My college best friend and I even played the "At Least" game, similar to Pollyanna's Glad Game, anytime life gave us lemons. But, I'm now realizing I was way off the mark because I always stopped short of the bigger picture.

And that is that God is good all the time.

Because, as Loren rightly pointed out, there are some people battling terminal illnesses, parents who have lost children, babies dying because their moms can't feed them...for them, it's pretty much as bad as it can get. What do they get to say to themselves to gain some comfort? For them, it really couldn't be worse.

So, do we focus on what's not so bad or do we focus on what we know is always good?

After all that thinking, I've decided I'm reserving, "It could always be worse," for a bad poker hand, a bad haircut or an invasion of crickets.

But for the larger things in life, I will no longer tell myself, "It could always be worse." Instead, I want to give God the credit He's due for being faithful and in control and GOOD no matter what comes my way.

So, glasses or not for Lil T, I'm telling myself God IS good and He is good ALL the time!

(Oh, and stocking up on carrots, too).

I Feel the Need...to Read

2009-09-02T10:55:00.002-05:00

I need to start a reading list because I keep coming across books I want to check out and then I forget them.

So, here's my reading list so far...

Baking Cakes in Kilgali
Man's Search For Meaning
The Hole in Our Gospel
The Blue Parakeet
Crazy Love - have read portions of it and listened to Chan's podcasts, but ready to read the thing!

I like books that challenge how I live out my faith. Specifically, I love books on missions or any topic that challenges me to think outside myself and my comfort zone.

I also love books set in Africa. Me and Jerry Maquire love us some...well, you know.

In fact, if you're looking for an incredible true story about Rwanda, I highly recommend Left To Tell. It's one of my all-time favorites. Amazing. I was in high school in 1994, worrying about making district in swimming and passing Pre-Cal while this woman witnessed her friends slaughtered and hid out for 91 days in a cramped bathroom.

So, if you've read any good books you could hardly put down, could you please comment and help me add to my reading list?

The Shack has been a best seller but I'm not sure it really hooked me. Did it start that way for you? Should I restart it? Is it sound material or bogus?

And while Francine Rivers and Dr. Seuss are some of my favorite authors, I think I'd mostly like to stick to nonfiction for now.

And I'm gonna add right now...I'm not really dying to sink my teeth into any vampire books, so no Edward Cullen for me.

Yet.

Adam & Eve - Made in the USA

2009-08-31T09:30:00.002-05:00

The boys have a Bible memory match game. It's pretty handy for reinforcing some of the stories we've told them from the Bible and introducting them to new ones.

This depiction, however, of Adam and Eve caught my eye. I think it was the initial shock of seeing two very delighted people standing naked behind some bushes. I've been naked and I've stood behind bushes before, but never at the same time. And I'm guessing I wouldn't be in a state of bliss if I had.

Second, I'm guessing Eve did not come with bleach-blonde hair. Unless the garden of Eden came with a Toni and Guy. Which, in some people's utopia, it would. Anyhow, it's a wonder Adam named her Eve and not Barbie.
And who could resist that precious little snakie peeking out of the bushes and smiling? I mean, really, I'd always pictured an evil-eyed snake with a Gollum-like voice that slithered in and out of tree roots. This little character makes me want to pinch his snake cheeks and give him some cotton candy. It's no wonder Eve couldn't resist.

The Sunday Special

2009-08-30T14:44:00.006-05:00

I just love these fellas...

Happy Sunday!

Friday Night Lights

2009-08-29T16:01:00.012-05:00

Boyd had its first football game last night and we made plans to meet up with some friends for the cross-town showdown. Boy, what a difference a year makes in the boys' ability to sit through an entire game! It helped, too, that there were five other kids to entertain them (and nine other adults to corral them). Wise rule of thumb when venturing out in public - always outnumber the kids. Also, bring lots of food to keep them distracted. KJ, I've already made a note to bring a cooler full of water for you next game, you precious, thirsty boy whom I love.

They look so sweet (and seated) here, but this was just the first quarter.
Jake found a friend in Kalli and I approve. She is an awesome girl and doesn't seem to mind sticky lollipops on her legs. That's always a bonus in a girlfriend.
I just love this pic for KJ's Boyd fever (he's putting his Bronco sign up), my boys' love of the Aggies/distain for the longhorns and Kendyl's love for America. Yes, she stood at solemn attention with her hand over her heart the entire Boyd school song.

We had such a great time playing with the kiddos even though I think I only watched about seven plays of the game (that part hasn't changed in a year). And the great thing is, we love their parents, too.

Aside from the crickets dive bombing the fans, it was a perfect night. Those crickets must've had some Japanese in them, considering the way they would suddenly go kamikaze and plunge out of the dark sky. It was so odd. And also, so creepy. I imagine this is how the Egyptians felt when the bug plagues hit. Except they weren't watching a high school football game and eating popcorn. And their locusts weren't from the Orient.

Still, the weather was comfy and we actually had a little breeze. Awesome and unexpected for August in Texas. Our little fan section got to see the Broncos stomp the McKinney North Bulldogs 28-7. What more could we have asked for?

As for our sons, they had a blast spending the fourth quarter collecting crickets in empty water bottles. That was definitely their highlight moment (mine came when we finally convinced them to release them the next morning). Another big moment for the kiddos was meeting the Boyd mascots. Kennedy and Jake - we'll have to get y'all in this next game! I'd heard the names of the students underneathe the equine garb, but one of them could go either way as far as gender. The following, however, left no doubt as to what gender the mascots actually are...

Clearly, I could've been a mascot in a past life because I totally relate to their desire to have some girl time even as our team is on the field and about to score. I think that's what's so fun about Texas high school football when you've been in a town awhile. It's fun to get together with people you like and just, you know, horse around.

(Tee hee!)

Oh, and watch football, OF COURSE (in case Brian's reading this).

We'd love to make it a tradition to meet up with friends for football games now that our guys have shown they can make it through a game. Come on out if you're looking for something to do on a Friday night. We'll bring the snacks and KJ's beverages, y'all bring the bug spray!

What A Friend We Have In Jesus...

2009-08-25T23:18:00.004-05:00

Dear God,

I'm burdened tonight. Not sure I can pinpoint why, other than lots of stuff has piled up and I'm sad. I was feeling frustrated about some things earlier. But now I am hurting for some people I love. I chatted with three different friends on Facebook late tonight and I believe you orchestrated that. But, I never seem to know what to say to people who are sad. My words are never adequate when people are hurting. Sometimes there are just no words and no immediate solutions. Sometimes I feel like all I can do is sit silently in the dirt with them, like Job's friends, and just grieve with them.

And that is hard for me, the problem solver.

But, I am thankful tonight for prayers, God. And when I am emptied of words, I love that "the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." I'm so thankful, God, that you are compassionate and that you want us to come to you with what's hurting us.

John 11:35 is one of my favorite verses - "Jesus wept." Because in those two words, I see that your heart hurts with mine. I see that even though our lives are but a blip on the scale of eternity, you still see our individual hearts. You see the personal pain. The stuff that rips so deeply, we have no more words.

And, God, I'm really thankful that you know me so personally and that you love me so richly that I don't always have to have words. You know what's on my heart and you are working on the solutions I can't yet see.

So, God, I lift up my friends and ask that you give them peace and rest tonight and that you sit with them and comfort them. Hold them and let them feel your presence.

God, thank you that we don't always need words.

Just you.

Amen.

Good Sleep...Sweet Night...uh, Dream Tight!

2009-08-19T23:11:00.006-05:00

Noah's been wishing us, "Good Night, sweep (sleep) tight, sweet dreams. Don't let the big buggies bite you," for awhile now. Little Brother, T, picked up on that tonight and tried to imitate Noah's version.

He got through, "Good night, sweep tight, sweet dreams," but seemed stuck on the last part. He stumbled through, "Don't let the...buggies, don't let the big...," until he finally concluded it with, "Don't let the mosquitos bite ya!"

Here's to sweeping tight and with a big canister of deet!

Baby Got Back

2009-08-19T14:04:00.009-05:00

Since my inaugural rump kicking, shin terrorizing run a few months ago, I have only strapped on my tennis shoes for running purposes maybe three times. Two of those times have been in the last week. Tell me how sad that is.

I have to say I had a very reasonable excuse. Actually, I had two. The first was that I so severely injured my shins that first run, I could barely walk without shin pain for some weeks.

My second excuse was, less than a week after the inaugural run, a glass broke in our kitchen and I got a pretty deep cut from an overlooked shard.

shin injury + glass in foot = funny looking, unsexy duck waddle when barefoot.

shin injury + glass in foot = God does not desire for me to run. Or waddle like an unsexy duck.

It turns out that shard actually burrowed into my foot and I didn't realize I still had glass in my foot until it was still hurting a week later. I first assumed it was just that deep a cut based on the amount of blood that streamed forth from my injury. But, weeks into it, I still was unable to comfortably walk barefoot on it and grimaced if I caught myself walking certain ways. I ignored it for awhile, but finally went to the doctor about two months later when the pain intensified.

What my $25 co-pay got me was advice to soak it in Epsom salt water for two weeks and hope it worked its way out. After that, I was to go ahead and call a podiatrist. Which, my business degree didn't really cover, you know, medical stuff, but it seems to me that if glass has been embedded in one's foot so long the skin has healed over it, I'm not sure soaking it would coax it out.

But that's just me and my piddly little business degree talking.

Thankfully, it seems my body had already begun the process of working the glass out, which explains why the area was more sensitive near the end. I finally worked up the courage to cut away some of the top layer (grossssss...) and, lo and behold, two small glints caught my eye.

And, suddenly, my foot was healed! It is amazing how much pain two incredibly minute slivers of glass can cause. I'm sure there's some spiritual principle to be gained, but I'm too tired to put one together.

Also, my business degree didn't teach me how to put spiritual principles together.

So now the only problem is I no longer have an excuse to not resume running.

In fact, I've recently been given two very good reasons to restart.

My first motivation was when Noah and I were talking about killer whales.

You know where I'm going, don't you?

He remembered seeing them at Sea World and they came up in conversation the other day. I was having a good time reliving the pure glee we'd shared watching Shamu heave its enormous body onto the stage in front of us. Ahh, the laughter as its body rolled gigantic waves of salt water over us...

The walk down memory lane came to a screeching halt when Noah suddenly asked, "Mommy, are you bigger or is Shamu bigger?"

Oh. My. Word. Child.

Today, Tyler and I were looking at a picture of a brontosaurus. The illustration showed the brontosaurus next to a house to give some perspective. Tyler then looked up at me and asked, "Mommy, are you bigger than a house, too?"

Sooooo...if y'all need me, I'll be run-waddling down Lake Forest again in the morning, broken shins and self esteem and all.

And Then There Were Three...

2009-08-18T00:15:00.020-05:00

Oh my. How awful that it's taken two long months to post this. I wrote this over a period of time, but waited to post until I could post birth pics. When Noah was born, we hadn't discovered the world of downloading our pics to our computer. It was like we were in the Dark Ages. It's like we still are because we also don't own a scanner. So, I'm unable to scan birth day pics. Alas, this delay cannot go on any longer. I need the world to know I have two boys whom I love equally and that I didn't forget I gave birth twice.

Because I also need the world to know the reason for my ever expanding girth.

So...two months later...this one's for you, Noah Jack.

My big guy turned five this morning. I looked at him the other day, in total amazement that we had nearly reached five years. Five years ago today, I had no idea what my heart was in for. Neither did my carpets and our walls. But those are stories for another day.

Early in the morning of August 18th, after 13 hours of slow labor, my boy's heart rate kept dropping and we knew it was time to get him out. So, at 6:36 a.m., there he was. Dark haired and plump and looking an awful lot like the baby on Ice Age.

My Noah, how do I summarize you? It's so hard to wrap up all this love I have for you and Tyler and form it into words. Words will never be enough. I've loved you for over 157,680,000 seconds. How do you summarize the way my life, my focus, my heart have changed since 157,680,000+ seconds ago?

You were named for Noah of the Bible. Just as he did, we pray that you will remain steadfast in your faith despite what others around you choose. And though you will make many mistakes in this life, I pray that you will always be rooted in the fact that God loves you and His love is worth standing up for.

Also, if you want to build me a yacht and take me on a 40 day cruise someday, I'm up for that.

As soon as I learned you were a boy, I prayed that you would be determined. Wow, did God answer that prayer. You have one of the most competitive spirits I know. You were crawling by five months and you've pretty much kept going since then! Which didn't make it fun when I wanted you to sit still and let me hold you. I could always tell when you were sick because you actually sat still and let me cuddle you.

This is you less than one month before you began crawling. You were up on all fours, ready to rock. Maybe that bug-eyed blue monster was a good motivator. Cookie Monster does look a little creepy when you don't know who he is.

Thankfully, you have become more affectionate with age. You are so generous with your kisses and hugs and offer those any and every time I ask. You have such a sensitive nature about you. You've long been able to gauge body language and tone pretty accurately. I appreciate that most when I need some help and you take notice. I so love your servant's heart. I think it is my favorite part of your character and something I pray will continue to develop as you age. I hope you will always notice when there is need and take action to serve the best you can.

You possess a real gentleness and a generosity that is rare for your age. I do believe you were created that way and that it's something we have the opportunity to develop in you. I see your sweetness when you smile and coo at babies. This is you and your first cousin, Anna.

And, as for your generosity, here is one example. A swim client's mom gave us some banana pudding. She gave us enough that each of us could have a portion. As you devoured your tasty treat, you asked for more, so I gave you my portion. You took notice and asked what I was going to eat. I tried to pass off your question, knowing what was coming. I just kind of explained that I didn't want any and that you could have mine. You immediately began dishing it back into my bowl, telling me you wanted me to have it. As I tried to give it back to you, you kept insisting that you wanted me to have it. And that is very rare at age four. It is a joy to see that in you. I so pray that you guys will see the world with bigger eyes. That you will see that we should not store up treasures on earth because those will rot away.

Even though you can bully up on your little brother, I see that you are protective when it counts. When he strays too close to the street, I watch you gently usher him back to safety. When Tyler's taken a serious spill , you rush to get him the antibacterial ointment and band aid. I still remember one moment when Tyler was smaller and strapped in his highchair. He got fussy and wanted out. You soothingly told him, "It's okay, Ty-wer. I'm right here." And it pleases me so much to know that, despite the sibling rivalry of youth, you and Tyler will always be there for each other.

Your devotion to the Aggies was instilled at a young age. Even before you knew what an Aggie was, you could sing the Aggie War Hymn and you listened to the Aggie Band CD every night. Actually, you still don't know what an Aggie is, but you are a faithful one. Even when a certain granddad tried to get you to call the Hogs in exchange for an IHOP breakfast recently, you insisted you wouldn't.

Until you finally whispered it under your breath.

It appears your devotion to IHOP is nearly as strong as your devotion to the Aggies. Such ~~stubbornness and appreciation for a good stack of international pancakes~~ devotion comes naturally to you. Still, we know where your truest loyalty lies.

You have had a love of learning all your life. You could recognize most of the alphabet before you were two. I enjoy watching you whisper something I've just told you, memorizing each word and imprinting it in your brain. I feel like I'm actually witnessing some live synapses development going on. You constantly challenge me to realize that kids are capable of learning more than we sometimes give you guys credit for.

And, even though your teachers say you're ready for kindergarten, I'm at peace knowing that this extra year will provide you some time to mature and grow before I have to release you to the world five days a week.

And also before I have to be on time five days a week to avoid contributing to the delinquency of a child in the form of tardiness at school. YIKES.

When I lived in Colorado, school started at 7:15 a.m. God bless your grandparents. I don't know how they did it.

You have the best gut laugh. It just streams out of you and makes me laugh, too. You laugh at the littlest things - a facial expression, someone burping, a jerky body movement...blinking. Just about anything can get a really good gut laugh out of you. I hope you always laugh that easily. It's a good trait to possess. I think you get that from your Dad. It's one of my favorite things about him.

Another one of my favorite things about you?

Your smile...

for the camera...

has vastly improved.

2006

2007

2008

2009

Happy Birthday, Buddy. You have given us thousands of reasons to smile and we love you.

Highway to the Danger Zone

2009-08-14T12:49:00.006-05:00

Tyler so dug the airplanes while we were at Lackland AFB, my Mom and I decided he might grow up to be a military pilot. He is so fascinated by airplanes, rarely does one pass by that he doesn't notice. This is a common outdoors pose for him.

His appetite for airplanes was fully satisfied with the rows of old American airplanes on display at the base. There were planes from WWII and Vietnam, along with some from more recent decades, like the F-16. Here is one pic where the boys paused long enough on their dash between planes for us to snap a quick pic.

They love each other.

This SR-71 was Brian's favorite...

My Dad told us a story about when he was in training and they took his team up on a mid-air re-fueling mission. The SR-71 was a fairly new plane, able to actually enter space and reach incredible speeds. Dad said they viewed the re-fueling take place underneathe them. As he watched, he suddenly went from seeing the plane to not seeing it at all. It was as if it simply went invisible, it was so fast.

Some days, I feel like that when I'm watching my boys in a public place. One minute they're there...the next, they're not. They are mini SR-71s.

As for Mom and me, we really related to the woman onboard this plane.

Being so versatile and all.

Anyhoo, after laying out Tyler's future, we then turned to Noah and asked what he wants to be when he grows up. With visions of NBA contracts, MD diplomas or maybe teaching certificates dancing in our heads, we eagerly anticipated his answer.

His answer?

A bowler.

And like any good professional athlete, he's already got his celebration dance worked out.

It seems he's got the turkey part of bowling down pat.

It's also clear he's got a long way to go to achieve his dream of the PBA, 'cause his genetics won't be any help at all...

And aside from our future family pics looking like this:

...complete with chest hair, I'll be giving up this dream, but so long as our boys are happy, living out their God given gifts and taking care of their families, we'll be proud of them.

And of these new kicks I'll be sporting...

They Call Him Flipper, Flipper...

2009-08-10T02:09:00.017-05:00

Oh, my, if this didn't make me want to revisit my desire to be a dolphin trainer, I don't know what could.

And if getting a degree in Marine Biology is a requirement (uh, do you have to take science classes to get that?), then could I at least be that girl who stands next to the dolphin pool in the shade with a mic and every 27 seconds reminds dolphin enthusiasts not to lean too far over the wall? I'm pretty sure that doesn't require a degree. Just some sunscreen and some ability to sound assertive even while repeating the same obvious message 258 times a day.

The dolphin interaction was possibly my favorite part of Sea World. It was definitely the part I was most looking forward to. I was so excited to see the boys experience dolphins up close. Aside from paying $12 for 11 pieces of fish so we could own the opportunity to hand feed them (next time I am so sneaking in my own can of anchovies and if you don't believe me, oh how you don't know me), it was incredible to be in reach of such beautiful, sweet creatures. I swear, they wear a permanent smile on their cute little snouts. It was all I could do not to jump right in their pool and try to recreate what we'd seen in the dolphin performance three days before.

Except for the part where I'm pretty sure it would cause psychological harm for my kids to see Mommy get tasered and arrested because I think that could be the other reason that girl with the mic hangs around the dolphin pool.

She don't want no people trying to go all Flipper on her.

And, anyhow, that being tasered thing ain't no way to wrap up a vacation.

One thing's for sure, I definitely don't have a calling to work with these creatures...

The one in the background, not those in the foreground. I'll keep those. See that creepy gray creature swimming with the tank diver? I think that tank diver must've drawn the short straw that day. Because who calls home and says, "Hey, Mama! I got me a promotion! I spent four years of your money to earn my Marine Biology degree just so I can be eaten to death by a shark!"

Ask me how I would never want to die and being eaten alive by a shark is in my top three. Always. Actually, my answer the last time this came up was, "Experiencing a lot of turbulence right before my plane plunges into the sea. I survive for days while my fellow passengers are eaten alive and while I get sun blisters on my lips. Eventually, I get eaten, too."

THAT is my worst fear. Ooh, how I shudder.

It was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel while we were in San Antonio and I spent a good part of one day, sick and stuck at the hotel, watching every shark show that came on. Even after all those shows, I couldn't tell you what kind this shark is, but I can tell you that bull sharks can transition to fresh water habitats (which, after hearing that, I've pretty much limited myself and my offspring to jaunts in the neighborhood pool and some slip n slide) and that mako sharks wear smiles on their faces.

But not because they are friendly like our smiling dolphin friends. But because their teeth are so large they don't fit in their mouth and because they want to eat you.

Okay, so Discovery didn't go that far, but still. I may not have a big degree in Marine stuff, but I do have some deductive reasoning in me. As in, big teeth on a shark means big bite out of my torso. I see it in their beady little eyes. It's like I'm anointed or something. The Holy Spirit came upon me and told me I would not want to mess with a shark. Or feed it $12 fish and stroke its snout.

I just hope the Holy Spirit told that diver in the tank to pack himself some heat. As in, a taser gun. Do they teach that in Marine Biology?

Inch By Inch, Play By Play...Til We're Finished

2009-08-10T01:48:00.001-05:00

Some days, I just feel restless.

Being part of a church family with a major missional life focus has got me thinking.

Back in grade school days, I had some big plans. Here were my life plans in chronological order:

Lifeguard in high school (Whistle on a lanyard = rare unbridled power. And, hey, you gotta start somewhere. Kurt Warner used to be a grocery shelf stocker and just look where it got him.)

Dolphin trainer in college (I guess I figured if I had to pay for my nightlife, I may as well have a sweet way of doing it. Except for the part where I got to College Station and discovered they don't really have dolphins there...just lots and lots of football. And even that is debatable sometimes.)

Pediatrician after college (Except for the part where I got to College Station and discovered I really, really stink at science...even political science. What really sealed the deal was the B I got in the "easiest A on campus" - biomedical science 101. Hey Freshman Class of '13, it really pays to go to class and hear the deadline on that paper titled "What I Want to be When I Grow Up" so you can get an A just for turning it in...on time. )

And, finally, I was going to retire and be a medical missionary in Africa (especially Ethiopia - it was the '80s and what I remember seeing on t.v. in the '80s was He-Man, Jem, The Smurfs and lots of starving children in Ethiopia.) My heartstrings were pulled and I knew I wanted to do something to help.

It's 2009 and I'm happy to report that I did accomplish two of those life goals. If you were a swimmer at Crawford Park Pool between 1993 and 1996, your life was guarded by my vigilant eyes watching over you while I simultaneously worked on my really awesome tan...to the point I may pay for that experience in the form of moles someday. (Why couldn't my 31 year old self have ~~slapped her upside the head~~ had a heart-to-heart with my 16 year old self?)

And, I did get to accomplish the last goal, minus the MD title (and paycheck...and status), when I went to South Africa as a missionary in '07 and '08. WOW, what a blessing those trips were.

But, somewhere between 1985 and now, my perspective on life changed and I realized the other day that, whatever my role or job title is, I desire to be this:

An empty vessel. Poured out. Nothing left to give.

Don't we all? To be that player that leaves it all on the field. Jordan...Game 6...Utah Jazz...45 points...game winning jumper. Al Pacino's Any Given Sunday speech about willing to fight and die for that inch (minus the profanity, oh my word) "because that is what LIVING is." Jesus, on the cross. "It is finished." The gypsy moth that succumbs to death after mating which, if nothing else, that should tell you it had some kind of dedication and vision.

My pastor, Jeff Warren, has a lovely way of phrasing this (this notion, not the moth's weird mating-related suicide). It goes something like, "The paradox of Christianity is this, you are the most blessed when you have humbled yourself to serve others." Beautiful, isn't it? But, what does that look like? What does it mean to live with the desire to serve others in such a sacrificial way? To what degree will I Go and Be? I'm still trying to figure that out. I wrestle to find the answer in the quiet moments. Searching makes me restless. I want to know what gives a person courage to lay down their own life, their own needs, their own comforts and their own desires to Go serve others and Be Christ in the flesh.

Spc. Ross McGinnis, 19. A soldier who covered a grenade with his body and, in so doing, laid down his life for his buddies. He knew. Dr. Ellice Hammond, the Australian mom who denied herself chemotherapy and died so her unborn daughter could live. She knew. The impoverished widow who gave away her two copper coins, all that she had to live on. She knew. Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming and Ed McCully. They went to tell the Waodani about Jesus and help them stop killing each other...and they were speared to death. They knew.

What made them different? What gave them courage? What does it take to live sacrificially?

I want whatever it is they had.

I hope I figure this out and then I hope I have the courage to do what I'm called to do. Whatever that something may be.

Because restlessness is not a comfortable place to be.

You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half step too late or too early you don't quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Cause we know, when we add up all those inches, that's going to make the difference between WINNING and LOSING, between LIVING and DYING. Al Pacino, censored by a Mommy, Any Given Sunday

How 'Bout Them Cowboys

2009-08-10T01:42:00.015-05:00

So, one member of our family made mention of the Cowboys training camp and how it would conveniently be in San Antonio the same week we were.

I'll let you guess which guy had this brilliant idea. Hint: He's the only guy not pouting or wistfully looking off at the highway in this pic.

He was most excited to see three guys in particular...Romo #9, Stephen McGee #7 (Gig 'Em Aggies) and Martellus Bennett #80 (Whoop). He took 21 pics and 12 video clips of our boys. Our Cowboys, that is.

As for our actual boys, they enjoyed running around the passageways of Alamo Field Arena Stadium (whatever it's called) with my parents. For over two hours. Seriously. Where do they get the energy? My parents, I mean.

Me? I was really glad this guy was there...

Because while Brian tried to point out complex plays and explain complicated routes, I was really digging the shenanigans Rowdy put on. That guy is hilarious. Although his plastered politician smile kinda creeped me out. Still, he kept me pretty entertained for about 30 of the 147 minutes of my life spent watching some overpaid divas toss the pigskin. But who's counting.

And while this guy in the Romo jersey put on a good face post-practice,

I can guaran-dog-tee you that he spent more time studying this stick outside than he did studying Romo's passing routes.

Ah, well. At the end, Brian said practice had been one of the highlights of his year.

And that made all 147 minutes worthwhile for me, too.

His Achy Breaky Heart

2009-08-06T10:33:00.003-05:00

It's going to take some time to post pics and stories from our vacation to San Antonio, but here's just a little snippet of one of my favorite moments at Sea World. It happened while we were waiting for the gates at the water park to open. We had some time to kill, so Tyler decided to make some new friends. They were girl friends.

And it appears girls can be krool even before they know how to spell krool.

We girls can be finicky and Tyler had an experience that will prepare him for what could come those darn hormonal teenage years.

And, while a mommy never wants to see her little boy sad, it's probably good that he has some time to learn how to deal with these situations with dignity.

Because less than two minutes after experiencing this embarrassing rejection, Brian noticed some fellow line standers staring at Tyler. He looked down to find that Tyler had pulled his swimsuit down and was peeing on the sidewalk. I guess he was trying to re-establish his manhood after such an embarrassing rejection. Mortified, Brian grabbed Tyler and spun him toward the grass.

Guess where I was sitting.

Let's just say I made a beeline for that wave pool as soon as the gates opened.

Is There a 12 Step Program for Facebook Users?

2009-08-06T00:24:00.007-05:00

Because my name is Jen and I'm addicted to Facebook. I've been a user for too many months to figure out and I use several times a day. Even in the middle of the night. Even when my children are in the home.

I resisted joining Facebook for months. Brian kept telling me I'd love it, but I decided I didn't ~~want to admit I couldn't figure out what all those Applications meant~~ have time for it. Plus, I had MySpace and I'd even put together a song playlist and posted pics. It was enough for me and I was quite content in my new found social networking abilities.

Oh, how ignorant bliss can be.

Because, in case you haven't discovered, MySpace is to Facebook as Milli Vanilli is to Michael Jackson.

Girl, you know it's true.

I've learned so much just from those 120 character status updates. Some have made me burst out laughing and some have made me cry with and pray for friends. I've learned about job interviews, sick loved ones, baby announcements, fun ideas for new things to do with my family, who is heading out for vacation, that I am 78% Asian (I took a quiz), where to buy cowgirl boots (for camp and for the 22% of me that's totally white), who stays up as late as me, I've laughed at my friends' hilarious kids, cheered birthdays and anniversaries, swapped info on where to visit/eat/shop during various road trips and I've loved getting to see pics of my friends' families and adventures.

Facebook has brought me closer to people I don't normally bump into or catch up with. I just found out a childhood friend had a baby...I didn't even know she was pregnant! I also have accepted two or three friend requests from people I wouldn't recognize on the street and that is a little weird, I admit. But, I am also friends with people like Keela Carr, who intrigued me during a Fox News interview after she walked across America as an expression of gratitude for our troops. (She's walking across America again right now to support homeless veterans!) So, yeah, I even swap friendly messages with people I've never shaken hands with and maybe I'll learn something interesting about them. There are friends halfway around the world and I get to see pics of their wedding gowns, their newborns or the mission work they are involved in. I am blessed to reconnect with family members I haven't seen since I was a teenager, yet we can discuss family news like we talked everyday in between.

Some other lessons I've learned from Facebook...

One of my friends really, really loved Michael Jackson. Really. More than I do. I even saw a video clip of her usually reserved husband singing "We are the World."

If I ever start a band, I can count on at least one friend to do an awesome job of promoting it for free and ten dozen times a week. In fact, it will become her permanent status update. Except, oops, I think she prefers to link people to your band's MySpace site.

Seeing pics of friends come home after serving their country for months at a time is pretty special. Seeing them hold a son born while they were at sea is totally awesome.

Some people can post offensive videos mocking your beliefs on their wall, but write one sarcastic political comment on your status update and they may drop you as a friend. Way to promote open-mindedness.

Some of my friends need to pursue careers in politics. And/or Xanax. But, seriously, they would do awesome in the political realm.

Lastly, I've been reminded that Brian's sense of humor is precious. Really. For example, he once hijacked my account and created Yearbook pics where he pasted my face on hairdos of various decades. Here are some treasures gained from the experience...

Scary enough, I think I actually have a photo from my 8th grade homecoming that looks like this...

Minus the 5:00 shadow, of course.

And, if my hair would've done this in the '90's,

I would've thought I died and went to hair heaven. The sheer joy of seeing my hair achieve this glorious state might have actually killed me. Or maybe just inhaling all the Aqua Net it took to reach that state of bigness. I don't know.

Oh, and speaking of Brian, if you haven't seen his latest pics, he got a new hairdo. He likes to try out different cuts during the summer. Here's my ~~little chia pet~~ main squeeze.

And, no one sports a mullet as proudly as my man.

I keep reminding myself Mario Lopez rocked that look and so did John Stamos. And look where it got them. Total fame.

Incidentally, I came across this random family pic (not mine) on the net. It was actually captioned, "A mullet brings the family together."

Come to think of it, they do look happy together. Maybe they should come up with a mullet slogan like, "pleasant in the front, totally crazy in the back." Or, "I'm going to work my job in the front but meet me for happy hour in the back."

Hmm...that slogan needs some work. I think I'm gonna post that on my status update real quick and let my Facebook friends help me come up with a totally awesome one.

Siyanarr-bye! (sorry, that's my 78% Asianness, 22% honkyness coming out again)

Saddle Up Your Horses, We've Got A Trail To Blaze

2009-07-29T23:27:00.009-05:00

Confession time.

I thought an ~~all expenses paid horseback riding, mountain biking vacation~~ mission trip to YoungLife camp in Fraser, CO sounded ~~pretty dang sweet~~ worthwhile. I love to ~~ride horses and wish I could go every week~~ serve others.

All I had to do was swim with some kids in the mountain lake, go mountain biking with them, take them through a ropes course in the mountains and ride some horses through the glorious aspen-filled mountain woods.

(Did I mention I'd be in the mountains? Far away from July in Texas? Oh, the sacrifice to be a servant of the Lord.)

Oh, and I was there to show them some Jesus love, too. Of course. I was going to love them so well, they'd love me and we'd all love Jesus together. It was going to rock.

What I didn't expect was how hard it would be to reach these teenagers like I wanted to. To really get into their hearts and be girlfriends right off the bat. I didn't expect that "Love" would not be at the top of my list of feelings the first couple of days.

I didn't know how hard it would be to break through cliques formed over years of schooling. Suddenly, I had a very real appreciation for every youth worker who ever volunteered their time to be with me. Because teenage attitude = two and a half day headache. Or maybe that was just the altitude sickness, but whatever. Attitude sickness and altitude sickness, same difference. Both lead to headaches.

I didn't know that I would have to initiate nearly every conversation or risk not being heard at all.

What I didn't know was that, even at 31 years old, it still stings when a girl from your cabin hands you her camera so, you know, you could take a group photo. I took a lot of those "group" photos where every member of my cabin was pictured except me.

Remember not being first chosen for dodgeball at recess? I was reminded of that rejected feeling every mealtime when the girls would rush in and make a beeline for my co-counselor's table instead of mine. Which made sense - she'd just graduated and had spent the last year with our girls. She was able to connect with them in a way I could not and I was still thankful at least one of us could. I didn't really mind except that it made it extra challenging to have meaningful conversation and get to know them.

And even though my experience has taught me not to take rejections like those personally, I still was in awe at what came across as a lack of sensitivity and lack of consideration.

A couple days into the trip, I realized there was another counselor facing the same challenge. She is in her late 20's and also struggled to connect with girls half our age. So, we decided that we'd meet every morning to pray and encourage each other. We'd thank God for those girls that did seem to want to spend time with us. There were definitely some of those and I'm thankful. We'd ask God to help us connect with the girls that were harder to reach because it was clear we weren't going to do it on our own abilities. We'd ask God to grow our compassion for them, to help us love them where they were.

And God was faithful.

Because, by night three, I no longer had to struggle to love and want to be around them.

A friend who works with teens had told me that I'd be amazed at how quickly teens let you into their heart and how much you grow to love them.

He was so right.

It's amazing how much one night of open discussion and brokenness revealed can change relationships. It's amazing how much your compassion grows when you see where someone's coming from. We live in an affluent town and, on the outside, many of these kids look like they have it together. They are involved in extracurricular activities and athletics, often at the top of their game. Their hair and nails are all well placed and well manicured. Their clothes are all name brand. Their parents provide financial security and some live in enormous, beautiful homes.

But, behind those ornate doors of their homes, there sometimes lurks a different reality. Stories of broken marriages, kids competing with their siblings, parents who expect near perfection and the usual girl struggles with feeling beautiful or wanted...these poured out during our our nightly cabin talks. And with those stories came real tears. And with those tears, I found compassion.

And, suddenly, it wasn't so hard to love these things called teens.

Day Two of camp, I'd never have guessed I could continue being with these teens beyond the week in Colorado. It really was that frustrating, discouraging and challenging. It was way harder than trying to catch my breath on that dadgum muddy mountain biking trek (horseback riding was sooo much more pleasant and so much easier to breathe through). Those dang attitudes and altitudes.

But, given answered prayers and just doing life together that week, I now find myself agreeing to be their YoungLife counselor this next year of their life. And, while I'm a little overwhelmed with how the time commitment will work out, I'm no longer afraid of whether I'll be able to love these girls.

I am going to do my best to love them well, not because I am some kind of awesome, but because Jesus loves them and me perfectly. And I don't see any need to stop asking Him to grow my compassion and help me love them where they are. He has proven faithful.

It is going to rock.

There Ain't No Way To Hide Your Lyin Eyes

2009-07-29T12:14:00.004-05:00

Someone tried to give himself a haircut.
Someone wanted me to believe he didn't cut his own hair. Someone doesn't realize he has a Mommy who asks trick questions.

I first asked if he cut his own hair. To which he naturally replied he hadn't. I then asked if he had used his kid size scissors. Which he admitted he did, before he confirmed again that he didn't cut his own hair. Next, I asked if he did this in the kitchen. He admitted he did, before he again told me he didn't cut his own locks. So, what I got out of him was that he cut his own hair in the kitchen with his scissors.

But, mind you, it wasn't him who cut his hair.

Someone is going to be using lots of hair gel until that gaping hole grows over. But Someone better learn quick that gaping scalp patches can be covered up, while untrue tongues cannot.

In the meantime, thank goodness, for Someone's bottom's sake, that he has some sweet chocolaty colored eyes that seem to get bigger and sweeter when he's apologizing.