A Series of Unfortunate Events

Kari Bou is sweet. Kari Bou is cute. Kari Bou is a destructive force to be reckoned with.

About a week ago, Danny took the older two out to run some errands so I could get some things done around the house. I was getting ready to stick some bread in the oven, when something caught my eye. I turned around to see my little Kari Bou, sitting by the open door of the pantry. She had managed, in the 2 minutes my back was turned, to pull down a box of chicken noodle soup - the kind with the packages of powder and dehydrated noodles & chicken - to chew open one of the packages, and to dump its contents all over the floor and herself. Even more disturbing: she kept scooping up handfuls of the stuff and cramming it into her mouth, and then licking her hands. I guess she really likes chicken noodle soup powder.

But that was nothing compared to her stunt this morning.

Since setting up our Christmas tree, we've had to reprimand her several times for taking / playing with ornaments or pulling on the branches, but I had just breathed an inward sigh of relief, thinking she was actually doing much better than expected. Of course, we had hung the fragile and breakable ornaments toward the top, and left "safer" items near the bottom.

I was trying to get the kids' shoes on so we could leave for WalMart, and had to run out to the garage for about 1 minute to get something from the car. When I came back into the house, I discovered the remains of a glass ornament near the dining room table. It was completely shattered. I swept and cleaned the floor, figuring the culprit had to be Karis, although she was nowhere in sight.

Just then, I noticed some reddish splotches on the floor at the opposite end of the table. Upon closer inspection, I realized it had to be blood, and then noticed more of it on the doorframe, wall, chair and fridge. I ran to the living room, where Kari Bou was playing with a puzzle. Her hands, and the puzzle, were a bloody mess. I later counted about 3-4 small cuts on each hand. It was like when you cut yourself shaving, and the cut refuses to stop bleeding. I couldn't get the blood to stop; meanwhile, she had gotten it on her clothes, my clothes, the sofa, the carpet, and several toys. I kept wiping and cleaning her hands, to no avail. It must not have hurt her, because she didn't even seem to notice anything was different.

I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was the only thing I could think to do under the circumstances. I grabbed the softest mittens I could find and duct taped them to her hands to keep her from pulling them off. I figured that way the blood would be contained at least, and she didn't seem to mind.

So by the time I disinfected everything in sight, stain treated her clothes, changed her diaper (because, of course, she had done her "Mommy is trying to go somewhere so I'm going to poop now" routine in the midst of all this), put new clothes on her and gathered everyone up to leave, it was about 10:00, and I was already exhausted. I'm still trying to figure out how in the world she managed to reach that crazy ornament. When Kari Bou is after something, watch out - she WILL figure out a way to get it!

And the hits just keep on coming . . .

Schizophrenic Holiday

Thursday the Miller clan gathered at our house to celebrate Christmas. If you've ever tried combining 2 holidays, you know how tricky it can be!

I couldn't bring myself to remove the pumpkins from the porch or the fall wreath from the front door. But since it was supposed to be Christmas, I lined our kitchen cabinets with greenery, set out a small lighted Christmas tree, and got out the nativity. At least it was festive - even the dinner table paid tribute to both holidays! We had a fall centerpiece and Christmas plates, napkins and cups. With the weather so warm, it felt like we were celebrating Christmas and Thanksgiving at Easter.

The turkey - my first ever attempt - turned out to be edible, to my extreme relief. We had so much food I nearly hyperventilated trying to figure out where to put it all, and finally decided that before the next time Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner is at our house, we're going to need to put in at least one more kitchen. I am thankful, though, for a basement large enough for us all to gather and open gifts.

By this time next year 2 more cousins will have been added to the mix. Sarah & Anthony announced they are having a girl (although the sudden appearance of various pink outfits on their registry had clued several of us in already), and Hannah & Kenneth will have a boy in February. This has come as good news for Zekers - he won't be surrounded by princesses and mermaids forever!

Friday I got up at 5:15 and shopped until about 11. The sales were a little disappointing compared to last year, but at least most of our Christmas shopping is now complete. (Oh, who am I kidding . . . there will never be a year when I won't be running out the day before Christmas to get the last couple of gifts.)

After lunch we went to a Christmas tree farm and the kids "helped" Daddy cut a tree. I'm still scratching my head trying to figure out how exactly we set out to cut a 4-foot tree and came back with seven-footer. They just don't seem as tall out in the field! The good news was, we only lost Zekers twice.

Rach & Zekers helped me decorate the tree while Danny put up our outdoor lights and greenery. (Every once in a while they'd take a stuffed animal and run outside to "go on vacation.") Then we all had dinner at an actual non-fast-food restaurant, thanks to a gift card we've been saving. Is there anything better than having someone else fix dinner every once in a while?

Saturday was Thanks-giving with the Wrights. We had the traditioinal and delicious "manicotti" - which was a welcome change after 2 days of eating turkey. (We had so much left over, I was trying to figure out how to add some to the kids' eggs or breakfast cereal). It was so warm, the kids played outside most of the afternoon and into the evening.

The highlight of the day was a duck that wandered into the next door neighbors' yard and ate some crackers the munchkins gave him. All the other cousins were trying to be extremely quiet so as not to scare the duck away, but not Zekers. He kept yelling, "COME HERE, DUCK!" at the top of his lungs. After deciding he was tired of waiting for the hapless fowl to approach him, he began chasing it around the yard. The wierd thing was, they both ran pretty much the same way - sort of a fast waddle.

It's funny how the atmosphere and mood of an evening can change so quickly - from the idyllic drive home looking at Christmas lights and listening to peaceful music, to Zekers throwing a tantrum on his bedroom floor and doing such a long "no-breathe" cry that his lips actually turned blue. (His mean, abusive parents actually had the gall to try to put him in pajamas).

It's been such a fun weekend . . . sometimes I wish there was no such thing as Monday!

Top Ten Things I Never Expected to Hear Myself Say

10. "Sweetie, we don't pick our nose while we're standing in line for the Dragon Wagon."

9. "Please take your brother's toe out of your mouth."

8. "If you come out of your room naked ever again when we have company over, you're going to be in BIG trouble."

7. "For the 100th time, Kari Bou, stop beating up your older brother and sister."

6. "That's not a bath toy - it's part of your anatomy."

5. "Come on out of the dryer, Buddy."

4. (gasp!) "Spit out Mommy's plant, right now!"

3. "Just because Daddy smacks Mommy's bottom, that doesn't mean you can do it, too."

2. "OK, lets try and scrub that poop off your neck."

1."Zekers, take Mommy's panties off your head and come eat your dinner."

Walking in the Rain Isn't as Romantic as it's Cracked up to be

Yesterday I woke up at 5:30 (due to the shock of getting 7 uninterrupted hours of sleep, no doubt). Hearing the rain falling softly outside my window, I decided right then and there that an early morning walk would be just the thing to start off the day.

I love rainy days, most of the time. In movies, rain makes even the most mundane moments seem dramatic - or at least incredibly romantic. In the rain, flight becomes more desperate and betrayal more treacherous. Conversations take on greater significance as emotions are heightened. A kiss in the rain becomes a thing of transcendent beauty. The most powerful, climactic scenes generally seem to take place in the rain.

I don't know what I was expecting (or, I do, but I'm just too embarrassed to actually say it!). What I got was a very dark, very cold, very wet walk at an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning. What started out as a gentle sort of drizzle quickly turned into a blustery downpour. It was not fun. It was not romantic. It was not redemptive. I turned around after walking less than four blocks. How can you leave your house feeling like the heroine one moment, and come slogging back home feeling like a complete moron the next?

Sometimes I just have to sit down and have a good laugh at my own expense . . . feel free to join in.

Another Day in Paradise

It's been a good weekend.

Friday Rach & Zekers spent the morning at their friends' house, giving Danny & me some much-needed time to run errands, rake leaves, change the oil in the truck, and spend quality time with Kari Bou - and each other. We picked them up and drove from there to do a little Christmas shopping. It was one of those rare times where I had a list made out, knew exactly where I wanted to go, and bought exactly what I set out to buy. (Generally I find all sorts of great things on sale and spend way too much, then freak out about it all the way home.) The kids even got to hang out at the mall's new play area while I relaxed and ate a pretzel. On the way back, we had dinner at McDonald's - all five of us - for $13.93. Coupons are a beautiful thing.

Saturday evening we celebrated Grandmoo's birthday (the kids call her that because of her deep love of cows) at LaRosa's, then hung out some more with the fam back at the house, had old fashioned sugar cream pie, attempted to take some pix with all the cousins, and scrambled to get everything breakable out of Kari Bou's reach to prevent her from breaking another lamp.

Sunday, we visited a recently-planted church about an hour south of here, and then Danny and the pastor left for a 2-day church-planting summit in Columbus. The service really touched my heart, and God gave me the added gift of talking with a couple of very good friends from high school, who now attend the church, and who I haven't seen in years. It was actually like a mini-reunion. It's funny how you can miss someone and not even realize it until suddenly your lives touch again and the years of being apart just sort of melt away (until you meet their school-aged children for the first time!).

That evening, I attended a pastor appreciation "shrimp boil" hosted by a group of church friends. It is humbling and touching beyond what words can express to be with so many people who genuinely care. And it was fun getting to know a couple of our newer staff members a little better. Even though it was strange to be there without Danny, the night was like a soft blanket: the laughter, and the sharing, and most of all the HUGS - warmed my soul to the core. A couple of the families even recruited their kids - both high school seniors - to babysit for free!

Today the kids have made it their personal mission to test me to the limit. Zeke melted down in the car because Rachel wouldn't stop calling him "Sir Oliver Cheeks" and Rachel busted a large container of yogurt at Kroger, then letting me know that "That's why you don't let a child carry yogurt around, Mom." Karis now has three large scabs and one goose egg on her noggin to add to the 2 bruises from yesterday. She also got her hands on my cell phone and called my sister; once we figured out what was going on, we ended up having a very nice conversation.

All in all, times are good. I thank God for Danny. I thank God for our precious children. I thank God for extended family, for old friends and new ones. And I thank Him for a way to preserve these things, to write them all out, so that they won't be forgotten.

Costume Conglomerate

We went to a costume party on Saturday - what a hoot! We borrowed an Elton John costume from some friends for Danny, I wore an old '80s outfit I had up in the attic, Rachel went as a "mer-fairy", Zekers was a cowboy, and Kari Bou went as "the cutest pumpkin in the world." She didn't retain her stuffing long enough to let me get a good close-up.

By the end of the night, Rachel had accumulated a top-notch mer-fairy costume, complete with mullet, teeth, and granny glasses. For some reason, it sort of put me in mind of the show "Ugly Betty".

Embracing the Mess

It's been one of THOSE days. The kind where you instinctively know that anything you set out to accomplish is just going to be one more exercise in futility.

The morning started out OK. Since the time change, the kids have been getting up around 6 - 6:30, but that's OK, since I've been setting the alarm for 5:30, and generally only letting myself hit the "snooze" button once. It makes a world of difference just having a little time to myself in the AM, instead of the day rushing up on me, in the form of little people in footed pajamas, while I'm still in bed.

Today Karis had an appointment at our pediatritian's office to receive her second flu shot (Children getting the flu shot for the first time have to receive it in 2 "installments."). For us, it's a 40-minute drive to the office, and the parking lot is currently being reconstructed, so about half of it is blocked off, which makes finding a parking spot a bit of a challenge. We finally found one - so far away from the building that it took us nearly 10 minutes to walk to the main entrance and get to the third floor. I took all three kids in, hoping the visit would be fairly brief.

It was brief, alright. We'd been there several minutes when a nurse came out and informed us that Karis couldn't get the shot because it hasn't been four weeks since the first one. I couldn't help asking the obvious, glaring question: "Then why in the world was our appointment scheduled for today?" She just shrugged - after all, she wasn't the one who'd wasted an entire morning getting three kids ready and hauling them to the doctor - and said, "Somebody must not have been paying attention." Well, there you have it. That definitely sets my heart at rest - especially coming from the establishment that I've entrusted with the MEDICAL CARE of my CHILDREN!!

And it's been downhill ever since. Upon arriving home, I attempted to load the dishwasher, but every time I opened it, there was Kari Bou, climbing in or trying to grab a knife or licking a dirty bowl. Then she got a kick out of opening every drawer she could and trying to climb in. Also, Rach and Zekers are going through some kind of nurturing phase, where they love putting their dolls and stuffed animals to bed, covered up with dish cloths and towels from the kitchen. The ones they don't use end up on the floor, along with all the plastic containers and cookware Kari Bou has scattered around. At this point I've thrown up my hands in despair of ever having a house that isn't completely trashed. But at least Kari Bou's escapades made for some cute pictures. Live in the moment, baby.

Heaven Help Us When She Becomes a Teenager

2 MORE Rachel stories:


Last night on the way home from Cubbies, Rachel asked me, "Mom, why can't I be like God?" Of course, thinking I was seizing a "teachable moment," I replied, like anyone would have, "You can become more like God every day by obeying what He tells you to do."

"No, Mom, not THAT." (She's heard this song and dance before.) "When will I be as big and strong as God? "

"Well, Sweetie, you won't ever be as strong as God, because only God can do things like make the sun come up, control the weather, create a little kitten or heal someone who's sick. God can do ANYTHING."

There was silence from the back seat for a few seconds, and then she asked breathlessly, "Can He even make JELL-O?"

_________________________________________


On the way to Cubbies, earlier in the evening, Rachel & I stopped by the Dollar Tree to pick up a few items for the Operation Christmas Child boxes the kids were going to make. She picked out a Backyardigans toothbrush and toothpaste, and a small stuffed dog. We also bought her a little stuffed Ariel that caught her eye. (I know - I have a major weakness for buying her cute things from dollar stores, but hey - it's only $1.00)

As we loaded back into the car, I thought I'd try a little experiment and see how it turned out. "Rachel," I said, "We were just talking today about ways to make Jesus happy. I bet there is a little girl in another country who doesn't have any dolls who would just love to have your Ariel doll." I had this touching picture in my mind of her tearfully parting with her doll for the sake of a poor little girl somewhere, and then me going and getting her another doll and surprising her, to reward her for her kindness.

We had a pretty lengthy discussion about sharing and sacrificing for others. Finally, just when I thought she was coming around to make the selfless decision, she said, "Well, if I give my Ariel doll to a little girl who doesn't have one, I'm going to need another one."

After last night, I decided to take a break from looking for "teachable moments" for a while.

In Other News . . .

Some munchkin highlights:

Rachel has finally achieved her goal of someday being big enough to climb a tree - even if it is just the small lilac "tree" in our back yard near the alley. Don't ask me why, but she loves wedging herself between the branches and pretending to sleep there. She also sits various stuffed animals on different limbs and forgets about them, resulting in devastation when Mommy or Daddy find them after a rainstorm.

She loves going to Cubbies on Wednesday nights and earning Lov E. Lamb and Ern E. Elephant patches by saying Bible verses. What she talks about most, though, is the snack. Every week she saves a little of it in a napkin to take home for her brother . . . so sweet.

Speaking of Bible verses, Zekers has learned his first one, complete with reference. I ask him repeatedly what it is, just because I love hearing him say, "Your Word is troof. Uncle John 17:17." OK, we're still working on the reference.

Zekers is way into dogs, Thomas the Train, and answering in complete sentences. I'm not kidding - we've tried and tried, in vain, to get him to simply answer "yes" or "no" to questions we ask. It can't be done. When I ask, "Would you like to go to bed, Mr. Beef?" his reply is, "No, I would not like to go to bed, Mommy," in this really choppy, gravelly voice. At least, if he keeps it up, he'll have excellent grades in English class someday.

And Kari Bou? She certainly keeps busy emptying drawers and cupboards, trying to eat paper and dirt, and grabbing everything in sight. Her mission: search and destroy the entire house. Several weeks ago, she discovered how to open the door to the church nursery. She's a baby on the move. But it's impossible to get too annoyed with her, since every time I try to reprimand her she flashes a huge, ornery smile or starts to laugh. Usually I end up joining her - she's just so irresistably cute.

That's it for now . Maybe if I write enough of these I can get out of writing a Christmas update letter by refering everyone to my blog. Very tempting.

Mermaids and Monster Mountain

OK, time for another "picture post" - my lame attempt to justify having a digital camera. :-)

Several weeks ago, we took a trip with Grandma Miller to Wegerzyn Metro Park - home of the Scarecrow Convention! We trekked through wooded paths; took in beautiful fall flowers, leaves and fountains; and walked past dozens of . . . well, rather interesting . . . scarecrows. Rachel's favorite was, of course, the Mermaid. Zekers was so delighted by the "Horse and Rider" scarecrow - a knight riding what I guess was supposed to be a horse with 2 heads - that I couldn't even get him to pose for a picture with it. All he wanted to do was stand in front of the monstrosity, gazing up in total awe and admiration.

The highlight for Kari Bou was definitely the outdoor discovery place. She thouroughly enjoyed drenching herself in the cold water - good thing the temp got up to 75 that day! Actually, all three of them were pretty wet by the end of the afternoon. We had to go back to Grandma's so we could hang all the kids' clothing - including Rachel's underwear - on a tree to dry.



We spent Saturday at Brumbaugh's Fruit Farm with friends. We walked through the woods and played in Snow White's cottage, a pirate ship and a castle with a drawbridge; we took rides on a zip-line sort of swing; the dads & kiddos went through a corn maze; we slid down Monster Mountain, a huge tube slide built into a hill; we ate yummy apple fritters and rubbery hot dogs; we petted cats, dogs and goats; and the kids played in mounds of hay and corn, managing to get particles of both on just about every square inch of their bodies. (Why does every "fun" trip we take seem to involve a complete change of clothes afterward?)

The most humorous part of the day was definitely lunch. Danny excitedly ordered a "walking taco," thinking it would be like the ones at the fair. What he got was a very small Fritos bag about half full with Fritos, chili and a few pieces of lettuce and cheese. He came drooping back to the picnic table looking like a sad puppy dog; he'd actually eaten the entire thing on the way over to the table. The only thing that saved him was being able to down 2 large tacos after coming back home.

Good times . . . Some days I wish autumn could last forever . . .

Like Pulling Teeth

I HATE going to the dentist. In fact, I wish there was a stronger word than "hate" so I could use that instead. A trip to the dentist effectively ruins my entire day, if not the remainder of the week.

Let me explain. Rachel was recently due for her second annual dentist visit. She did great, and I was very proud of her. The hygienist counted and cleaned her teeth; the dentist congratulated her on going a year without sucking her thumb (After last year's visit, we came straight home and duct taped mittens onto her hands every night for 2 weeks. It was so sad, but she knew it had to be done. She would even remind us to tape on her mittens if we forgot.); she received a Disney Princess flosser, a new pink toothbrush and a Gloria sticker (from Madagascar). Then it was my turn.

When it comes to physical features, there is nothing I'm more insecure about than my teeth. Which is why I try not to think about them EVER - even when I'm brushing, which I do on occasion. So 30 minutes spent focusing on nothing BUT my teeth adds up to my worst nightmare. The pointy metal instrument they love to use has to be some kind of torture device; it's like dragging a metal fork down a chalkboard, right there inside your mouth. Then there's the cardboard guards they shove halfway down your throat - 4 times - just to get some lousy pictures of you molars. Oh yes, and the best part is the "toothpaste" they use to clean your teeth, and the little dribble of water that never quite gets rid of the grittiness. When you ask for more water, you get another little dribble, then you clamp down on the suction device until your face turns inside out.

Another thing I've noticed: I believe it is the universal goal of dental hygienists to ensure that all patients leave the premises without one shred of self-respect. My hygienist (who was very friendly and chatty, and who I probably would have really liked had we met under ANY other circumstances) asked me whether I floss every day. I said no, and was about to explain that I do floss about twice a week, but I didn't have a chance to get that much out before I was reprimanded for my deplorable lack of dental hygiene. When the dentist came in, I heard her tell him I was "a bad flosser." So there you have it, folks - my new identity: I'm A BAD FLOSSER. The other thing is, they do this to you while your mouth is being pried open and excavated, so you can't even defend yourself. It's cruel and unfair.

For a good 20 minutes, I sat there and listened to words like "decalcification" and "discoloration" and "plaque." Worst of all, I was told my teeth will get darker WITH AGE. I guess it's all downhill for me. I heard these words as through a fog, because suddenly I was back in jr. high, standing naked in a busy hallway (For the record, I never actually did that in jr. high, but I'm pretty sure I dreamed it several times), a glaring spotlight revealing my imperfections to the world. I wanted nothing more than to go home and staple my mouth shut.

My dentist, who is very, very good at what he does, did hold out a faint ray of hope. Next week I get to go back and get fitted for molds for my teeth, so I can try bleaching the darn things. If that doesn't work, maybe I'll apply for "Extreme Makeover."

A Time to Gag

I guess it's that time of year again. Coughing, dripping, puking, and crying have become the soggy cadence that fills each dragging day. Our house is a veritable snot factory.

It's hard not to dwell on the miseries in this House Where Time Stands Still. Missed social events and church activities. The fact that we're held hostage in our own home. Night after night of crying / coughing munchkins waking every couple of hours.

The fact is, there's an upside to having sick kids. Some much-needed down time. Not worrying about little things like getting dressed or fixing my hair. Longer naps (for the kids). And best of all - lots and lots of snuggle time. I look ahead to days when I will think to myself that I would give anything to have a warm heavy head resting on my chest and arms full of sweet drowsiness.

All the same, I'll be thankful when they're well again. . .

Also Overheard on Christian Radio

My friend Jer listed a few several weeks ago on his blog. Here's a couple more I couldn't resist putting up!

I heard the first one yesterday while fixing dinner:

"The phone lines are open - please call now with your pledge! Listen, folks: Satan doesn't want this radio station to exist. He doesn't want us to even be here. In fact, Satan wants us to . . . . not . . . be here."


This one dates all the way back to Valentine's Day, but I laughed so hard I still remember every word:

"OK, our lucky caller number 5 will receive this silk rose and a wonderful book on romancing your wife. Caller number 5 . . . "

Music plays for about 4 minutes

"Alright, men, you still have a chance to win this great prize. Pick up the phone now and dial ________"

Music plays for 4 more minutes

"We're still waiting for that fifth caller . . . . caller number 5 . . . "

Unfulfilled Longings

God recently confronted me with a truth, and it's been on my mind all week . . .

It's from the book Lies Women Believe, by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. The author tackles 40 different deceptions used by Satan to keep us from a thriving relationship with Christ, and then counters these lies with truth from God's Word. Lie #12 goes something like this:

I should not have to live with unfulfilled longings.

I hadn't realized how much this idea has made its way into my thinking. When I pray, often it's with the attitude that God owes me all my heart's desires . . . that if I ask Him often enough and with the right amount of faith, He will certainly give me what I so earnestly request. Doesn't He want me to be happy?

DeMoss points out, referring to Rom. 8:23, that we will always have unfulfilled longings this side of heaven, and that . . . we must learn to be content with unfulfilled longings. *groan* There's the C-word again.

God has made us in such a way that we can never be truly satisfied with anything or anyone less than Himself (Ps. 16:11, 34:8-10).

The bottom line is, in spite of my self-proclaimed expertise, I don't know what's best for me, or for anyone else. God does, though, and He uses my unfulfilled longings to refine me and deepen my longing for a future life with Him. He uses them to drive me to HIMSELF, the only oasis and true satisfaction.

I Hope Karis Can Forgive Us Someday

I've had to laugh lately as I've begun to notice a progression in parenting practices from the first child to the third. The following may be a bit stereotypical and/or exaggerated, but most of these are taken from my own experience, having begun raising three kids and being a firstborn child myself . . .

Child #1 - Dropped binky is thouroughly washed off and sterilized - several times.
Child #2 - Dropped binky is rinsed off and put back into mouth
Child #3 - Dropped binky is put back into mouth after large dirt particles may or may not have been flicked off

Child #1 - Swooped up at the first whimper
Child #2 - Picked up after crying for several minutes
Child #3 - "There's a baby crying?"

Child #1 - Free-range meat, organic tofu burgers, made-from-scratch whole-grain cereal, a truckload of fruits and veggies
Child #2 - Turkey dogs, some fruits and veggies (mostly banana), all-natural cereal bars
Child #3 - Anything edible that isn't too far expired

Child #1 - Baby book meticulously filled out through the first five years
Child #2 - Baby book sporadically filled out through the first year
Child #3 - Should we have gotten a baby book?

Child #1 - Picture taken each month, on the same day, at the same time, in the same pose
Child #2 - Picture taken 8 out of the first 12 months
Child #3 - All 4 pictures taken during the first year are on an older sibling's camera

Child #1 - Rigorously and consistently disciplined for every infraction
Child #2 - Able to manipulate way out of some punishments
Child #3 - Gets away with murder

Child #1 - Brand new: Gap, Old Navy, Gymboree
Child #2 - Used: Gap, Old Navy, Gymboree
Child #3 - Garage sale leftovers

Child #1 - Naptime at exactly 9:30am, 1:00pm daily
Child #2 - Naptime sometime in the morning and another sometime in the afternoon on most days
Child #3 - Brief snatches of a nap in the car while running errands

Child #1 - Read to at least 20 minutes a day
Child #2 - Read to when Child #1 wants to be read to
Child #3 - Occasionally overhears book being read to Child #1 & #2

Child #1 - We have all the answers
Child #2 - We have some of the answers
Child #3 - We don't even know the right questions to ask!



I can't think of any more at the moment. But I know what you're thinking right now is, it's a good thing we only have THREE . . .

Wrighteous Living

This week has flown by. There's way too much to write about, so I'll just leave it at a few highlights, starting with last weekend.

Here's to . . .

. . . a wonderful evening with new friends. At 6:00 we were practically strangers, and 6 hours later it seemed like we'd known each other for years.

. . . Cubbies! Rachel is in her second year and absolutely loves it. Last week she brought home a work of art she called "fireworks": a blob of glue on a piece of black paper, covered with gold glitter.

. . . Applesauce. Applesauce. Applesauce. My goal is to freeze enough for our family for an entire year, since the kids won't eat anything but the stuff I make (I use Cortland apples, so it always turns out bright pink!). I'm about halfway there . . .

. . . dinner at El Camino with a good friend - a rare treat!

. . . scrapbook parties where very little scrapbooking actually takes place. :-)

. . . 2 strollers, 3 hours, 4 miles, 200 doorhangers, 1 church plant launching next Sunday!

. . . date nights with free babysitting! We had dinner at Applebee's while Jason & Jodi got puked on by Zekers.

. . . a fridge so full of leftovers from the previous week that I went 5 days without having to fix dinner. You can't beat that!

. . . having a 4-yr-old shopping buddy who has turned out to be a surprising conversationalist.

. . . discovering that Danny & I are never immune to "The Crazy Cycle" (see Love and Respect by Emerson Eggerichs) - a humbling realization.

. . . not taking one picture for over a week - the first time this has happened in about 5 years.

Better With Age

Well, here I am - up to my eyeballs in laundry and the house is trashed from top to bottom. In a rare moment of reckless abandon, I'm indulging in something I love - writing - while throwing Everything Else to the wind. What a rush. (I know, I need to get out more)

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about aging. Maybe it's because of the silver-gray hair I occasionally pluck from my head. Or maybe it's the tiny crow's feet that have begun to accompany every smile. The fact is, no matter how young I look or feel, I am slowly, steadily growing older, as is every other human being on earth. And I'm not quite sure how I feel about this.

On the one hand, I'm in the prime of my life: old enough to be taken (somewhat) seriously, but not yet considered "old" - by most. On the other hand, I was 20 about one minute ago, and now, in just 8 short years, I will be 40! God has allowed me to experience so much already: college life, cross-country travels, 3 months overseas, having sex (Don't even pretend you've never prayed for Christ's return to be delayed until you got to experience that!), being married, giving birth, parenting. I don't think I dread dying as much as I dread growing old.

Why is that????

Perhaps it's because youth is so celebrated in our society and I'm terrified that the time is fast-approaching when I will be considered outdated and irrelevant. Or perhaps it's my own lack of preparedness. Every birthday kind of "sneaks up" on me and I'm rarely at a point where I feel ready to be that age.

What if - and this is purely conjecture - what if I began now to think about the kind of person I desire to be at age 50? What if I embraced the thought of growing older, because with age comes wisdom, maturity (hopefully!), the opportunity to invest in younger women, and a more intimate walk with my Savior? What if I give less attention to things that truly don't matter in the long run, and focus more on what's eternal?

I wish I had thought about this at age 20. I wish that, in addition to planning out how my imaginary wedding would play out and what kind of family I wanted to have and the career I would be pursuing, I had also planned toward the kind of person I would be - regardless of how my circumstances unfolded.

Not that I'm looking forward to the litany of health issues that often plagues the elderly, or the gradual deterioration of my physical body. But I do look with anticipation toward becoming wiser and more like Christ - and that much closer to going home. "Wisdom is with aged men, With long life is understanding" (Job 12:12). What I wouldn't give sometimes for a little more understanding!

I read about Sarah, Anna and Timothy's grandmother in Scripture - how God used them in their old age. And I think about the older people who have had a much greater influence on my life than they will ever know: people who have prayed and encouraged me and offered godly wisdom through tumultuous times of my life. The fact is, I wouldn't have made it this far without the counsel of those older, and far wiser, than myself.

I hope this doesn't sound too morbid. I guess what I'm saying is that instead of fighting or denying the aging process, I want to run the WHOLE race so as to bring glory to God - whether I'm 32 or 62. And I want to start thinking about the kind of person, the kind of disciple, I want to be when I reach middle age and then the "sunset years."

Say What?

2 random happenings from the past couple of weeks . . .

We were in Wal-Mart (our second home) several days ago, waiting outside the restroom for Rachel. Zekers patiently sat in the blue toddler seat attached to the cart, and Kari Bou very impatiently squirmed in the "basket" portion of the cart for smaller children. A kind-looking older woman came out of the restroom, saw us, and smiling broadly, came over to chat for a minute.

I've found that whenever you venture out in public with three kids ages 4 & under, you get lots of comments - everything from nice ("Oh, aren't they adorable?") to sympathetic ("You certainly have your hands full!") to downright rude ("There are ways to prevent that, you know.") This woman seemed like the nice type.

"What a big, strapping boy you have there!" She exclaimed. "My, he looks strong."

I started to smile and respond, when I realized she wasn't looking at my son, but at my DAUGHTER. Now, Karis had her one-year checkup several weeks ago and weighed in at a whopping 19.5 lbs - enough to put her in the 25th percentile for weight. She's in the 85th percentile for height, however, which makes her seem even thinner. She has very little hair and was wearing a brown shirt that day, so I could sort of understand the mistake, but come on - Zekers was sitting right there and is bigger and broader in every way! The last thing any mother wants to hear is how masculine her sweet, delicate little girl looks.

I was about to explain that Karis was, in fact, a girl, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. "My, you're going to make a fine football player someday - probably a linebacker!" She continued. At this point I simply smiled politely and prayed fervently that Rach would come out of the bathroom.

And when she did come out (of the girls' restroom), what was this nice lady's comment? "Where in the world does he get his beautiful curly hair?" I must confess, I grabbed the cart and bolted, afraid that in five more minutes she'd have discovered Zekers and turned him into a ballerina.

Later in the week, we were again out running errands - this time waiting at a red light. Rach & Zekers like to talk to each other and to me while we're driving, so often when I'm sitting at a light I'll turn around so I can see them. On this particular occasion, they looked so adorable sitting there like three little ducks in a row, that I couldn't help exclaiming, apparently very loudly, "You guys are SO cute!"

Almost at the same moment, I glanced to the side, and saw that right next to us sat a red pickup truck with 2 young-ish men in the front seat. The weather being somewhat warm, we both had our windows open. I have never seen two heads snap so fast to look in my direction. And I won't soon forget the expression on their faces - a mixture of surprise and delight. At once, it ocurred to me that our windows are all tinted, and the back seat windows were, in fact, closed. There was absolutely no evidence to indicate I had been talking to anyone other than them! After making matters worse by inadvertently saying, "Aw, crap", the only other option that came into my head was to turn around and speak to the kids very loudly, making it obvious I had been talking to children in the back seat. I have never experienced such a torturously long wait at a red light.

I've decided from now on I'm having my groceries delivered.

Fun Times on the Ferris Wheel

Going through some old pix the other day, and sorting through some newer ones, I came across these two gems and realized I just can't keep this to myself. It's almost spooky.


Fair 2005


Fair 2006


I guess we can look at this as A) an annual waste of $4 or B) a new annual tradition. Personally, I vote for C) All of the above.

When Contentment Isn't Good

Our church has begun an in-depth study of the book of Joshua. A discussion during life group on Tuesday and some of the reading for next week brought out an interesting concept from the first chapter of the book that has really stayed with me.

The Bible teaches that contentment equals much greater gain than earthly possessions. Satisfaction in Christ is key in the Christian life. However, there is one thing I should never be satisfied with, and that is - ME.

I'm not talking about my looks or personality or gifts & abilities. I'm thinking more of my relationship with Christ. I should be in a continual process of refinement, pressing on to look more like my Savior until the day I enter eternal rest with Him. He Himself says, "Be perfect, even as your Heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt. 5:48). Paul speaks of "pressing on toward the goal" in Philippians 3:14. To use his analogy, a good runner is not content to complete part of the race and then take a nap on the track. She stays focused on the finish line until she crosses it. Therefore I must spend the rest of my life in pursuit of this goal - becoming more like Christ, and storing up eternal rewards vs. earthly ones.

"Godliness with contentment is great gain" (I Tim. 6:6), but contentment with where I am spiritually quickly becomes complacency.