Expressions of Poo Bou

One of our little Bou's favorites is reading from her book Baby Faces. A couple of weeks ago, when I happened to mention something to a friend about being surprised, she looked at me, gasped and opened wide her mouth and her eyes. I started dying laughing when I realized she was trying to look surprised! It hit me that I had been inadvertently making the faces listed in her book as we looked through them each time. She now has a litany of facial expressions she can pull out when she feels like it; however, she doesn't always demonstrate these on command, so the other night at dinner, when she was in a particularly silly mood, I took the rare opportunity to get some snapshots to pass on.

In order, the faces are: 1.surprised 2.skeptical 3.sad 4.crying 5.happy 6. laughing

(OK, #2 was supposed to be "concerned" but there's just no getting away from the obvious display of skepticism.)


surprised
skeptical
sad
crying
happy
laughing

NOT funny

. . . so I'm giving the kids a bath tonight and Rachel says, "Mom, I'm so strong, I bet I could lift you."

"Well, you're welcome to try," I reply. "But as the baby inside me grows, I'm going to keep getting heavier and heavier until he or she is born."

She looks me straight in the eye and says, "Well, if you get much heavier, only God will be able to lift you."

Percy

One more thing to be thankful for . . .

I was sitting on the couch one rare afternoon last week, while all three kiddos were napping, pouring out all my worries to God. I try to do this as often as possible because a)it prevents me from freaking out as much as I would otherwise and b)He says to do it (Phil. 4:6, I Pet. 5:7). On this particular day I had transportation worries.

Pretty much since the day I found out I was pregnant with Zekers, I have been praying for God to send us a minivan. After spending time looking at some, we concluded that the only way we would ever own one was for God to just bring a miraculous deal our way. So I prayed and waited in expectation. I was just SURE God would answer this prayer with a resounding "Yes!" After all, doesn't having a 2nd child necessitate owning a fully loaded, brand new minivan?

God answered my prayer, alright - by showing us that our current car had ample room for 2 munchkins. Then we discovered Karis was on the way.

Once again, I prayed for a minivan, thinking "How can God refuse us NOW?" His answer? A great little Ford Explorer with over 150,000 miles on it. Wouldn't you know, the backseat had exactly enough room for 3 carseats - no more, no less. With my tendency to worry, the mileage issue was a faith-stretching experience for me, but "Dora" has never let us down in the 2 years since we've made her acquaintance.

Now, with our fourth coming in the fall, I was tempted to pray once again that God would provide that doggone minivan (although Rachel tried to convince me we could just put the new baby's carseat in the trunk and surround it with groceries to keep it balanced.)

But that afternoon, sitting on the couch, I had to make a critical decision. Would I finally stop asking God for what I thought we needed and just trust Him to provide what He knew was best? For days, I had felt Him asking me "Are you willing to trust me in this, too?" And I finally decided to leave it with Him. I told Him I was through asking for a specific mode of transportation, and would be grateful for whatever He decided to provide. I fully expected He would bring a 30-yr-old beat-up station wagon with no air conditioning and a weird smell, that just happened to fit 4 carseats, sometime around October 10th. But I told Him I would be grateful for whatever He provided, whenever He provided it, because He's already given us WAY more than we deserve. It was a long-overdue moment of surrender.

This is no exaggeration: my prayer was interrupted by my phone ringing. It was Danny, calling to tell me that one of his dad's friends was getting ready to trade in his 2002 GMC Safari and would sell it to us for the trade-in value, which turned out to be about half of the actual value of the van, and within our price range. What's more, the van had just over 55,000 miles on it. And for a little extra fun, it actually has a DVD player!

Several days later, we bought the van. We wanted to pray about it first, rather than just rush into buying it, but every time I tried, it was like God was saying, "Duh! What are you waiting for?!"

I gotta tell ya, "Percy", named by Zekers after a green train, is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. I'm not kidding. It's a breeze to get the kids in and out, and I feel like I'm driving around sitting in a living room. Every time I get behind the steering wheel, lines from Field of Dreams dance through my head: "Is this heaven?" "No, it's Percy."

God is good. He's good no matter what, even if He would have given us a six-person bicycle (do those even exist??). But I think that when I forget to trust Him, I will be reminded of His incredible provision every time I open the garage door and see Percy.

Frozen Corn and Servanthood

It's funny how "little" things can be such a big deal . . .

A friend and I are doing a babysitting swap - one week she has my kids for a morning, and the next week I have her 2 youngest, who are both 18 months like Kari Bou. This morning it was my turn to watch her kids.

The morning went great, but lunchtime, no matter what, can get a little chaotic, and was especially so today since I had promised Rach & Zekers we would have cheese & chicken quesadillas, which require some cooking and chopping.

While I was getting everything ready the kiddos had decided to make a "path" through the kitchen and around the perimeter of the dining room, using pretty much every towel and dish cloth we own, as well as most of the placemats. (If you ever eat dinner at our house, consider this fair warning; I tired long ago of washing every cloth item that hits the floor. I figure Kari Bou spends enough time licking the floor to keep it somewhat clean anyway.)

I turned around to see that Zekers had managed to open the freezer door (our fridge and freezer are side-by-side), and Kari Bou, who misses no opportunity to wreak havoc, had made a beeline for the shelf where I keep the frozen veggies. Last week I had opened a package of corn so I could use a little in some soup, and (will I never learn?) had just folded the edge of the bag under instead of fastening it securely.

You can guess what happened. Before I could do anything, she had dumped the entire bag of corn all over the kitchen floor, and stood there with an impish "now what are you gonna do about it" look on her face. There was nothing for it but to get down on my hands and knees and begin scooping up handfuls of corn into a bowl, since it was too much to sweep up at first.

Next thing I know, Rach is beside me, scooping up corn with both hands. We're talking about the child who stalls and tries every tactic in the book to avoid cleaning up her own messes, let alone here sister's! "Sweetie!" I excaimed, not sure where this new attitude was coming from. "Thank you for helping to clean up all this corn. That's really great!"

"Well, I'm just being a servant," came the reply. I stopped and looked at her, almost beyond words. "Where did you learn about being a servant?"

"When we went to Mr. & Mrs. Reifsnider's church the Sunday School teacher told us we need to be servants." I asked her if she could think of anyone in the Bible who was a servant. "Jesus," she answered. Enough said. (By the way, we went to the Reifsniders' church about 2 months ago!)

It is fascinating to me how random Bible stories and Bible verses Rach has learned suddenly find application at completely unexplainable moments. And her attitude was just so sweet and sincere. It actually made me glad Kari Bou had dumped all the corn, allowing me to catch this glimplse of my oldest daughter trying to be a little more like Christ (although I'm not sure she fully understands the concept.)

Rachel also informed me that for the rest of the day, whenever I tell her she can't do something, she's just going to respond with "OK." I guess if one miracle can happen, why not 2?

Youngest No Longer

Kari Bou has about 7 months to adjust to the fact that although she will always be our third child, she will never again be our youngest child. As of October 11, 2007, we will be a family of six.

I write this with a strange mix of emotions. Yesterday we received a year-end letter from some friends in Columbus who just lost a baby at 17 weeks gestation - the third time this has happened to them in the past 2 1/2 years. I think of other close friends who have experienced miscarriages, the loss of a child, the inability to conceive. And I feel completely undeserving of this incredible gift God has lavished upon us. The thought that He's chosen to bless us in such a huge way four times is just unconscionable to me.

We couldn't be more excited or more grateful for the life of this unborn child, who right now pretty much looks like a little peanut with blobs for arms and legs. And the munchkins?

Rachel is excited but has no concept of the time involved. Yesterday she thought the baby was going to come out at the dr's office. She wants another sister, of course.

Zekers, in spite of limited understanding, seems to be happy about the idea, often stating loudly his request for a "brudder."

As for Kari Bou, she has no idea what's coming, and it's probably a good thing . . .

You know the bossiness is out of control when . . .

RACHEL: Mom, can we watch a movie? (This request made at least a dozen times a day.)

ME: I tell you what - If you clean up all of your Polly Pocket things, I'll let you watch a short one.

RACHEL: Yea!! (jumping up and down and heading toward the living room)

ME: Not so fast! Remember it's Zekers' turn to pick the movie this time.

RACHEL: OK, Mom!

ME: Where are you going?

RACHEL: To tell Zekers which movie he wants to watch!

Three Items of Interest

Yesterday:

1. Zekers pulled his elbow out of joint Tuesday night but luckily our pediatritian was able to snap it pretty easily back into place, and showed me how to do the "procedure" in case of future incident.

2. To get to the pediatritian, I drove through the thickest, heaviest fog I've ever seen - but we made it OK, and the frosted tree branches we drove past on the way there were just beautiful.

3. The kids & I stumbled onto a killer sale at JCPenney and I ended up buying over $1,000 worth of stuff for $97. (Who says the hunter-gatherer instinct is unique to men?)

And here, just for the fun of it, is one of my favorite poses of the three munchkins.

Thankful

It shouldn't come as any great surprise to me - the realization that God not only cares about what goes on in the nitty-gritty of my day, but is right there with me in the midst of it. It amazes me every time, though, when He chooses to gently and lovingly remind me of His immanence and the fact that He knows what's going on, not only in my living room, but in my heart.

This morning I nearly had what Carolyn Mahaney describes as a "mommy meltdown." The house was trashed from top to bottom, and we're having small group here tonight. I hadn't even thought about a snack for it. I was trying to do some work on the computer for nursery (which I'd already put off much longer than I should), and make some phone calls for an upcoming church-related event I'm helping to plan.

Well, you know how kids can be the moment they see that you're on the phone! They've been feeling pretty cooped-up the last couple of weeks, what with all the snow, and spent most of the morning in what I call "the vicious trio": Whining, Crying and Fighting. All of this while I'm trying to talk on the phone, of course, which is ringing off the hook. And every time I try to walk anywhere I'm tripping over toys (and Karis), sending the older 2 to their rooms and giving them spankings in between calls.

Then Rachel comes to me and says, "Mom, come get Kari Bou!" I stumble into the dining room, where Rachel had been creating colorful designs with thick "project paint", which I set up for her earlier so I wouldn't feel as guilty about being on the phone. There is Karis, happily sitting on the table, covered in green, blue, red and yellow paint - rubbing it into her hair and licking it off her fingers (luckily, the label says "non-toxic"). I glanced at the clock. 9:08 AM.

And the morning raged on. I broke up fights, dished out discipline (often with a less-than-godly attitude), changed poopy diapers, wiped snotty noses, removed and stain-treated 5 shirts and 2 pairs of pants, cleaned up innumerable messes, extracted about 7 items from Kari Bou's mouth, and entertained the thought that maybe our small group wouldn't mind meeting outside tonight - the temperatures are a little warmer this week! I spent most of the morning feeling like the Proverbs 32 woman, who is the evil twin and essentially the polar opposite of the Proverbs 31 woman.

Utterly defeated, I sat down in the middle of the living room and just watched the kids tear each other apart as I slowly began picking up puzzle pieces, like a patient in a mental health facility. (I may have even drooled a little.) And that's when God sent an angel to my house.

In the midst of the craziness, the doorbell rang. Out of the blue, a dear friend stopped by on the way to pick up her own daughter from kindergarten, and offered to take Rachel home for the afternoon. She also insisted on making food for small group tonight. (She didn't have to do a whole lot of persuading!)

As soon as she left, I burst into tears. I thought, God sent her to my doorstep just when I needed her. In that moment, I felt His presence so strongly. I know that He is "an ever-present help in trouble" but it's an extra-special gift to be able to almost tangibly feel it sometimes. I often have this totally incorrect picture of Him sitting there frowning because I'm not doing things right, telling me to just suck it up, telling me all the ways I'm falling short of His standards. I have a hard time seeing Him as a loving dad, who cares enough to help me shoulder the load. It's my fault - I'm always trying to do things in my own strength.

God has continued to remind me of His presence all afternoon! Nancy Leigh DeMoss is doing a radio series, which is transcribed online, focused on . . . yep - the Proverbs 31 woman. I read it every day. Well, today's message centered around verse 13, which talks about how a godly woman works hard to keep up her home, and how that, as mothers, is our #1 calling - managing our homes and taking care of our families. Wow - did I need to hear (see) that! I guess it was just a confirmation when I most needed one, that I am investing myself in something worthwhile, you know? Even on days like today. She shared as an example a friend of hers who gave up a promising career to stay at home with her three children, ages 4, 3, and 1!

And then I read Joshua 10, which our life group will discuss tonight. It's about Joshua and the Israelites defeating all these huge cities and their kings because God fought for them! This is a little morbid, but Joshua has the military chiefs place their feet on the necks of five kings who they defeated, and says to them, "Do not fear or be dismayed. Be strong and courageous, for thus the Lord will do to all your enemies with whom you fight." Then he strings them all up.

I'm not fighting kings and kingdoms, but I fight battles every day, in this house and in my mind - and it is an indescribable comfort to know that God isn't just standing there telling me what I'm doing wrong (although He does have a way of lovingly bringing to my attention areas that need some work!); He's fighting for me! And I guess what really melts me is the awareness that all these kindnesses are so totally undeserved. All I can do is shout out "God is good!" and fall down at His feet in worship.

It goes without saying that I'm thankful for God's grace (but I'll say it anyway!) I'm thankful for the friends God has placed in my life. I'm grateful for a husband who works hard to provide for our family, going far beyond the call of duty in so many ways. And I'm grateful that I have the privilege of staying home with our children and investing in them day in and day out, because I know with absolute certainty that there is no higher calling for those to whom God has granted the privilege of motherhood. Even on a day like today . . . especially on a day like today.

Till We Have (Happy) Faces

I knew he could do it!!

Last Friday we trekked over to JC Penney and witnessed a miracle. The photographer actually got great shots of Zekers (he'll be 3 at the end of March), Kari Bou (she'll be 18 months at the end of February) and all three of the kids (just for the fun of it) in less than 20 minutes. And they all looked happy!

So about Zekers' super-cute pose: at first, I was absolutely thrilled. But LATER as I looked through pictures on my digital camera - 10 of which were me trying to get Zekers to look even a little bit happy - I grew increasingly indignant. I'm posting these 2 pictures so you can see just how different the response is when the photographer tells Zekers to smile, as opposed to when his own mother (who went through 6 hours of labor to bring him into the world) makes the same request.



I want to know this photographer's secret. How is it that a complete stranger can instantly inspire such sweet smiles in my son, while I get shots like this one?

Maybe I need to invest in a carpeted wooden platform with curtains behind it. Or maybe I should just forget ever pursuing a career in photography! haha. Or we could go with Danny's theory: that Zekers is simply showing his displeasure at the fact that his hair looks "girly" because of the curls Mommy hasn't had the heart to cut off. Deep down, though, I know the secret: he's always been a sucker for pretty girls who tell him how adorable he is!

Man vs. Vegetable

A battle rages daily in our house. On one side, it's a battle for supremacy, and on the other - a battle for survival.

Nearly one year ago, I received a beautiful red shamrock plant for my birthday, which I immediately and proudly displayed by the largest window in the house, where it would be sure to get plenty of direct sunlight.

Life was good for the little plant - until Kari Bou began walking, that is. Since the day she took her first tentative steps (sometime back in June), she has had but one goal: search for and destroy shamrock! This mission has taken on various forms, including dumping the plant on the floor; tearing off and eating its leaves; body slamming it on any available surface; and pounding it repeatedly with a book.

Unbelievably, this little shamrock has fought back in its own way, refusing to go quietly into the night. With each new abuse, its stems develop new dents and its leaves look a little more bedraggled. But for every stem torn away, a new one always manages to grow. Once, when I was sure the poor plant was done for because every one of its stems appeared to be broken beyond repair, all three stems miraculously resurrected themselves! By now there are supposed to be at least 20 stems with leaves, all growing straight up and out. But, though stunted and bent, our little plant bravely holds its own.

So the battle rages on . . . baby vs. shamrock. Who will be the ultimate victor? To be honest, I fear for the plant, as Kari Bou has recently been compared to an "armor-plated rhino", and I can't say I disagree with the assessment. But, if it has survived this long, maybe it will hang in there at least until my next birthday . . . .

Highly Recommended

Several weeks ago, I finished reading a book I classify as a must read for anyone who has children or is anticipating children anytime in the near future. The book - Shepherding a Child's Heart by Tedd Tripp - is different than any other I've read on child-raising. Tripp lays out principles that go far beyond the behavior modification techniques found in most other literature, instructing parents instead to deal with the heart attitudes that drive behavior.

Drawing upon passages from God's Word, Tripp explains that effective communication and the rod go hand in hand; the rod becomes an catalyst to allow communication to take place - encouragement, correction, rebuke, entreaty, instruction, warning, teaching, prayer. I've got to be honest - I'd never thought to pray with my children after correcting them!

The author also encourages readers to re-examine the goals they've set for their children, citing Psalm 73:25: "Whom have I in heaven but You? And being with You I desire nothing on earth." He exhorts parents to make sure the content of everyday life fits this theme. And what should our ultimate goal be in parenting? To train our children to behave in a way that honors God - and to take them daily to the cross of Christ.

I've read many books that present the philosophy without much methodology. Tripp, refreshingly, offers several chapters on helpful ways to implement the concepts he presents in the first half of the book - from toddlers up through teenagers. A very eye-opening 211 pages!

The second book, which I finished just yesterday, is called The Treasure Principle, authored by Randy Alcorn, a pastor in Oregon. The central message is on giving, which didn't sound at all appealing to me at first. Truth be told, I really had no desire to be convicted on this topic, and only read the book at the continual urging of my dear sweet husband (and because it's short and an easy read!)

I wasn't convicted in the way I thought I would be. Alcorn doesn't guilt the reader into giving, nor does he in any way insinuate that those who don't give 90% of their income are in any way less "spiritual" than those who do. Instead he lays out the principle from Matt. 6, which he calls "The Treasure Principle" (Go figure!), and it is this: You can't take it with you, but you can send it on ahead of you. Simple but profound.

I've been familiar with Matt. 6:18 most of my life, I think, but never let its message penetrate my heart to the point of realizing that every resource I devote to furthering the kingdom here on earth, every sacrifice I make in this life, stores up future reward - treasure that will last FOREVER! No matter how great a fortue we amass on earth, it is so fleeting, so temporary and brings no lasting happiness.

The book has really caused me to search my own heart - and to begin at least praying for God's guidance as to how I can increase my faith by sacrificial giving. It's incredibly difficult for me to hold our finances with an open hand, but Alcorn speaks truth when he says that we do not own the resources God has entrusted to us. They are His, and we are but managers. I pray that I am a faithful one!

Ahhhhhhhh . . . .

I've just had the most wonderful day. . .

This morning started off with playgroup at our house - the first of many (I hope!). I wasn't quite sure what to expect, what with several inches of freshly-fallen snow on the ground and school closed for the 3rd day in a row. But we ended up having 6 moms and 11 children in spite of (maybe because of) the weather. I think we were all feeling a bit cooped up. The time spent with other moms, for me, was like wrapping chilled hands around a steaming cup of coffee (which a few of us literally did!). I thouroughly enjoyed the entire morning, including the fact that all the munchkins played so well together. At one point, there were at least 8 little ones sitting at our dining room table quietly eating their snack. Imagine! Of course, the quiet lasted for about 1.5 minutes, but it's so great knowing your kids are having fun.

This afternoon Zekers got a haircut. Danny was nice enough to meet with someone at our house, instead of at the church, so Karis could nap while I took the other 2 to the salon. Our little guy's hair has become quite the bush lately, and was long overdue for a shearing. Still, it's always a little sad for me to see his curls cut off. But he sat so still and acted like such a little man and was so darn cute afterward! He was a little anxious about the whole process at first, and wanted me to hold him, but I asked him if it would be ok for me to just hold his hand, and he agreed. So we sat there the whole time, holding hands. It is just the coolest thing in the world when your child looks at you with this total trust - all is right with the world now that you're holding my hand, Mommy - and adoration. I can't somehow put it into words.

Later in the afternoon Rach, Zekers and I played in the snow. I pulled them on the sled, they made snow angels and left footprints on every square inch of the yard, and we rediscovered the joy of sucking on icicles (until Rachel pulled one off the dumpster). They even took a "trip" down the sidewalk to the end of the block, "spent the night in a hotel" and then headed back. As they stumbled around and laughed gleefully and threw snow I couldn't help laughing, too, because they were just these short little people who think they're so grown up. And I know that all too soon they will be.

Rachel said to me afterward, "Mom, I'm not the same Rachel. I'm a new Rachel." When I asked her what was different about her, she replied, "It's like the old Rachel was flushed down the toilet and died and now a new Rachel is here." Not an atypical conversation to have when you're around Rach.

We came inside and drank hot chocolate - they got to put in their own marshmallows, which was a real highlight. We had dinner and watched "God Made Families" all snuggled up on the couch, a Wednesday night tradition. Rachel even got to join us since Cubbies was cancelled tonight.

And since Rach & Zekers haven't had a nap in a few days, but have had a lot of late nights and very early mornings, they were ready for bed at 7:30 - unheard of! - and I actually have time to post before watching the first Lost that's aired since November. Really, do days come any better than this??

A Rose By Any Other Name

It occured to me the other day that my kids may have a few issues, most of them revolving around animals.

First of all, a meal at our house which doesn't include a host of critters sitting on the table "watching" Rach & Zekers eat is an extreme rarity. Rachel loves to pile her Polly Pockets and various stuffed animals onto the centerpiece and all around it, insisting that they all find a "comfortable spot." Zekers, on the other hand, drags to the table an armload of little animals from his Little People farm, all of which must be lined up perfectly in front of his place setting with their eyes fixed on him. If just one is cockeyed - well, forget any food entering his mouth until the creature has been properly aligned.

OK, so probably a lot of kids go through this stage of wanting all their "friends" to accompany them to the dinner table. But even odder are the names these poor animals and dolls are forced to live with. Last summer, Rachel received a couple of fashion Barbie dolls from a freind of the family, and promptly named them "Hermie" and "Webster." The previous summer, she proudly named 2 favorite baby dolls "Shrum Shrum" and "Kir Kir". Zekers has 2 favorite cows from his farm; the brown one is named "Snowflake" and the white one is "Pickle Boy." (I am not making any of this up, I promise!) He also has 2 jousting horses; the red one is "Thunder" - a respectable horse name - but the blue one he simply named "Girl." Last but not least, his little blue stuffed elephant sports the name "Cook Elephant." And we are not allowed to refer to them simply as "your blue elephant" or "the white cow". No, it has to be "Zekers, please pick up Cook Elephant," or "I don't think Pickle Boy really likes drinking out of the toilet."

Probably scariest of all, they have named their bunk beds, although Danny and I must take much of the blame for this one. They both like to sleep on the top bunk, so we have them trade off every couple of months. To ease our son's pain at having to transition to the lame bottom bed several weeks ago, we encouraged them to name the beds, thinking this would help. So what names did they come up with? The top bed is now proudly referred to as "Squirt", and the bottom as "Crusty." It actually didn't help all that much to name them, and I now have the added bonus of realizing the names are pretty appropriate. Ew.

I only hope they grow out of this animals-on-the-table, and weird-names phase before they start dating, or they'll find themselves going on a LOT of first dates.

Snowy Day

Yea! We came back from our Virginia trip to several inches of snow - finally! Rach and Zekers have been begging to build a snowman, so I took them out the other day to play in the snow and make "Frosty." We picked out a carrot for his nose, a scarf to wrap around his neck, and 2 prunes for eyes (a gag gift from Danny's 30th birthday party which we still, for some reason, have in the pantry. At least now they're serving some purpose, I guess!)

Unfortunately, our attempts yeilded some pretty lame snowballs, due to the very cold temps, so we contented ourselves with producing a "snow apple" - Rachel's idea - pretty much just a ball of snow with a small stick at the top, which they gleefully ate (the snow, not the stick!), and then claimed it made them too full to eat lunch.






I just had to include this picture of Kari Bou in her "new" snowsuit; the first time we went out, she wasn't at all sure what she thought of it, and definitely wasn't too fond of the scarf, but she did much better the next day, and even posed nicely for the camera.












Zekers wouldn't hold still long enough for me to get a decent shot of him . . . he was way too busy running, yelling, and diving headlong into the snow.











For Rachel it was a dream come true. All winter long she has looked forward to making snow angels and finally she got her wish, although she wasn't too thrilled about her wet behind when she came back inside.

I had to laugh when I realized the total amount of time spent outside was almost equal to the total amount of time spent getting us all ready to go outside! But it was worth the effort, just to see them all having so much fun.

Stock Rooms, Dead Batteries and Overflowing Toilets

Another full, but good, weekend has come and gone . . .

Friday we experienced an unprecedented event: the kids and I left the house about 8:30, stopped by Grandma's to say hi and then headed to a mall about an hour's drive from here to meet my sister Hannah and almost-2-yr-old niece Esther. They played hard in the new kids' area and we all ate lunch in the food court. . . and nothing disastrous happened! The only disturbing events were 1)When Hannah got up from lunch to use the bathroom, I looked over at the little play area in the food court and NONE of the older three were anywhere to be seen (About 2 panic-stricken minutes later, she came out of the bathroom with all three of them trailing behind her), and 2)when a sales associate in Children's Place infomed us that these same 3 children were wreaking havoc in the stock room. However, we did manage to find some incredible deals (apparently, while our munchkins were busy ransacking the stock room) in the meantime, and I bought Rach & Zekers each 2 pairs of flip-flops at Old Navy. Zekers in particular was really pumped about "my new camouflage flip-flops." He carried them around all day in a special bag the cashier had given him.

The ride home was really precious, too. Karis was in her seat for about 1.5 minutes before she succumbed to her sleepiness; Zekers lasted about 10, and Rachel, who swore she wasn't tired and didn't need a nap because she'd had one 2 days before, was asleep about 15 minutes into the trip home. I'm surprised we didn't hit someone on the way home, as often as I kept looking into the back seat. I couldn't help myself.

Saturday Danny stayed with the muchkins while I went to a 4-hour meeting at the church, and he left shortly after I got home for a marriage counseling appointment. In the evening, Danny's mom, dad (who Danny respectfully refers to as "Homes"), and sister & her family came over to celebrate Danny's and his Dad's birthdays. Mmmm . . . stromboli, lemon cake, and lots of good conversation made for a memorable evening. And the Christian bookstore actually called during the afternoon to say the book I had ordered for his birthday (Above all Earthly Powers) was finally in - great timing!

Sunday I had much more fun than I expected! I was filling in for several people back in the nursery - registration, and infants/toddlers during first service. It was just Zekers, Kari Bou and their friend Noah. I had no idea playing with cars and trains for 90 minutes could be such fun. We also had a pretend picnic with plastic food (it's less calories that way, I guess!). I also like doing registration for second service and getting to talk with the children's church teachers before the kids all come back. . . and I even got to go into the service eventually and hear most of Danny's message. I always leave church with a bizarre mixture of feelings from the message: so proud of Danny I'm ready to burst, and convicted by teaching from God's Word. Maybe God will overlook the first because of the second . .. :-)

After church, I had a brief meeting, so Danny took the kiddos home for lunch. Following the meeting I left the church and got into his truck to head home. It refused to start. In fact, I evidently did something wrong while trying to start it, because the battery also went dead - and I realized the church doors were, in fact, locked, leaving me stranded in the parking lot. A little nervous, and very cold, I fortunately discovered my cell phone in my coat pocket and called Danny. This had to be God's providence, seeing that I rarely have my cell phone on me when I actually need it. So he came and rescued me from the freezing cold and we all went home to eat lunch. Danny left again to meet with a couple of girls who want to be baptized and I spent a very enjoyable afternoon making peanut butter/chocolate bars and reading! (A review is forthcoming)

When he came home, we woke up three sleepy munchkins and headed back to church for a "newcomers' class" Danny is teaching. I'm looking forward to the next 3 classes - we had a great time. The only mishap occured at about 7:30, when Rachel clogged the mini toilet (I won't go into detail), and Kari Bou & Vaughn (16 mo. & 12 mo., respectively) decided it would be fun to play in said toilet as it overflowed. Sarah, the babysitter, came and got me after she'd already mopped most of it up with paper towels. And I wasn't too worried about Kari Bou, who's played in (and eaten) worse.

So there it is, our weekend in a (very large) nutshell!

Wacky Wild Weekend (With Wierd Winter Weather)

Several weeks ago, the phone rang.

What set this call apart from most others was the voice on the other end. It belonged to Donna Misiano - a friend I haven't talked to in several years. She had called to ask us to come down to Richmond, VA, for their church's 40th anniversary celebration on January 21st. (A brief historical sidenote, without which this paragraph makes no sense: Danny & I moved to Richmond 2 weeks after our wedding, and he spent 2 years there as Youth Pastor.)

"Let me talk this over with Danny," I said, "and I'll call you back in a few days."

Mind you, I planned to briefly mention her call to Danny, agree with him that it was sweet of them to want us to visit, and call her back to politely refuse. And there were plenty of legitimate reasons not to go. Danny would have to find someone to preach for him on Sunday, and someone else to run a meeting after the service. I would have to find someone to do nursery registration for me, and we would have to miss a birthday party on Saturday night. Then we'd have to decide how on earth we would manage making 2 nine-hour trips with three small children in 4 days.

The more we talked about it, though, the more we were both convinced we needed - and wanted - to go. In fact, the chapter I was reading when Donna called (from Real Worship by Warren Wiersbe) was all about loving other believers, and how we often underestimate what a great encouragement our mere presence in a worship service can be to our brothers and sisters in Christ.

So Friday morning we took off and drove about 4.5 hours to Beckley, WV, where we spent the night in a hotel. It was a blast - we spent several hours alternating between the pool and the hot tub, which the kids absolutely loved. It was almost worth digging all of their swimming gear out of the attic the day before! Back up in the hotel room, Rachel & Zekers pretended they were dogs sleeping under the beds (I don't even want to think about what else was down there), and Kari contentedly ate fries out of the trash (left from our dinner) and off the floor. It's never any use trying to stop her - she just hunts down more gross stuff to eat. Then we put the kids to bed, and Danny & I read for a while by the bathroom. (It was the only light we could leave on if we wanted the kids to sleep, so we pulled up a couple of chairs by the bathroom door! It was actually kind of cozy.)

The next morning the kids pigged out on waffles & yogurt, courtesy of the hotel, and we drove the rest of the way to Richmond. This was probably the most fun drive of the whole trip - I kept excitedly pointing out grazing cows and beautiful mountains, until Rachel started sighing every time I made her look up from her Leap Frog to see the sights. The kids were unbelievably good; they listened to some CDs from the library over and over; the songs are now on "continuous play" in my head! Of course, Zeke had the second largest blowout of his life as soon as we reached the Misianos'. It was all over his clothes as well as the bed he was playing on. Luckily, I can never decide which outfits to pack because all their clothes are so cute, so we had plenty of extra clothes.

I cannot even describe to you how good it was to spend time with old friends, many of whom we'd lost touch with in the 7+ years since we moved away. It came out on the trip home that we had both secretly wondered if anyone would really remember us, or if many of the people we'd known would still be at the church. As it turned out, everyone we really wanted to see was there. I couldn't believe it - these dear dear people, who touched our lives so deeply during our first 2 years as a married couple, actually seemed to think we'd contributed something to theirs, and poured out on us love and thanks we didn't deserve. Even many who had left the church came back for the anniversary celebration, and we saw some of the kids we'd worked with in youth group (now in college students and graduates - yes, I felt quite old). What a gift. The weekend was such a whirlwind I realized on the way home that I hadn't taken any pictures, except a few of the kids.

The plan was to leave Richmond at 5am on Monday, but because of some impending bad weather we decided to leave Sunday afternoon. By the time the festivities ended and we got on the road, it was 3:30, and we ended up running into some snow and ice driving through the mountains. I can't remember just how many vehicles we saw wrecked by the side of the road. The fact that we were forced to drive at 35 mph most of the way back to Beckley ended up stretching the trip out, and getting us home at 3:30am on Monday. But the kids slept from 9:30 until we got home, which was a blessing indeed. The sort of icky part was that they only slept in until 7:00 that morning, but we were grateful to have arrived home before the roads through the mountains turned into sheets of ice.

And now, I can't help thinking that as great an encouragement as the trip was, I'm glad to be HOME! As much as we miss our dear friends in Richmond, I can't imagine leaving our family and friends, and our incredible church body, here. If God ever calls us elsewhere we'll go, of course, but I can't help praying that He'll continue to call us to stay right where we are (physical location-wise)! So, praise God for a great trip, and praise Him for a wonderful home to come back to.

Top 10 Strangest Places We've Found Stuffed Animals

10. Topping the centerpiece on our dining room table

9. At the foot of our bed, underneath the mattress pad (that wasn't nearly as strange, though, as the time I found Zekers thrashing around under the mattress pad)

8. In the pots and pans drawer (Larry and Bob)

7. In the dishwasher

6. In the cup that sits by the bathroom sink (small ballerina mouse)

5. In the VCR/DVD player

4. In Kari's mouth (very small, very soggy, yellow dog)

3. In the closet, wearing a mismatched pair of my shoes (large purple frog)

2. In my underwear drawer, wearing some of my underwear (plush pink bear)

1. Staring up at us from inside the toilet (a very large monkey)


But the sweetest place we've found stuffed animals: wrapped up in sleepy little arms at night.

Snip-Snip

It's amazing how a few scissor snips can change your life - for better or for worse.

On Monday, I realized my hair was badly in need of a trim. So, as soon as Danny came home, I took a trip to Great Clips, where I've gone to get my hair trimmed for about a year. I started going there when they first opened in our town because the prices were insanely low, and they did such a great job, I kept going back. The same girl has cut my hair the last several times I've been there, and she was every bit as good a stylist as the once I used to go to where I paid about three times as much.

I guess I should have known better than to go on a Monday - which generally for me have been disastrous. When I walked in, I noticed that none of the "usual" girls were there, but I didn't sweat it - after all, how much can you really mess up a trim? I got a little nervous as my hair was being cut - the "stylist" seemed to be sort of hacking away at it pretty randomly. And when she finished, I thought some of the layers seemed to be much shorter than they had been. But I reminded myself that normally after a haircut I hate my hair until I have a chance to go home and fix it myself.

It wasn't until I walked into my house and looked at myself in a mirror that I realized the dreadful truth: MY LIFE WAS OVER. I surveyed the damage, decided that I couldn't possibly be seen in public for at least 3 months, and burst into tears. Before my self-destructive trip to the salon, I had long layers all over. Now, the top layer was so short I couldn't even pull it back. And the rest of my hair was beyond description. I looked like I should have been on the set of Beverly Hillbillies. Danny even agreed (much later, when he was no longer afraid to come within 10 feet of me) that it was so bad he thought about offering to cut it himself to try to "fix" it.

The next morning my worst fears were confirmed: there truly was nothing to be done. I tried to forget about my hair and focus on other, more important things like feeding my children. But every time I caught sight of my reflection in the microwave door or a mirror, I started sobbing. I had never been this upset over a haircut, and believe me, I've had some doozies. What made it even worse was that during the past several months I've been losing a lot of hair and I can't figure out why. It's been growing back slowly, creating what looks like breakage all over my head, but I'm still losing it by the brushfull. So all I could do throughout the morning and afternoon was cry, and then realize that vanity and pride were no doubt the reason for all this, which made me cry even harder. I actually resented the sun for shining. Doesn't everyone know it's supposed to rain on days like these?

Anyway. I had pretty much decided that the only option would be to shave my head and wear a bandana until my hair grew out again, when Danny suggested I just go to a better salon and see if they could do anything.

If a few scissor-snips destroyed my life, all it took was a few more to put it right again. I tell you the truth: I was a new person when I walked out the door. I could look people in the eyes and smile, knowing that at least I wasn't offensively ugly anymore. I loved the stylist, who said my hair had been pretty badly chopped up but that she could fix it. And I decided that it was well worth the $27 I paid to fix the mess on my head.

I think I would have freaked out had my hair originally been cut this short. As it is, I'm so happy that if I was pregnant with Karis right now (instead of 18 months ago), I'd name her after the stylist.

Feet Cookies

I wasn't going to write about this. But every time I think about it, I can't help laughing, so maybe you'll get a little amunsement out of it, too.

Since Rach and Zekers can both open our side-by-side fridge and freezer, they noticed one day last week that I had some leftover frosting in the freezer from making cut-out Christmas cookies. So of course, this has been a very popular topic of conversation around our house in recent days. ("Mommy, when are we EVER going to use the rest of the frosting?")

You can only put Rachel off for so long - she is nothing if not persistent! So I decided yesterday would be a great day to finally make some more cookies and use up that blasted frosting. Rachel helped me make the dough Friday, and we planned to use some new cookie-cutters given to the kids for Christmas: a flower, a snowman, and a butterfly.

Here's where it gets a little bizarre. While we were at Wal-Mart getting a few odds and ends, Rachel spied some more cookie cutters. They were 50 cents each, so I told her we'd get one (hey, I might as well take advantage of it while she's little; I know when she's 15 I won't be able to buy her off so easily). Well, the one she had her eye on was . . . a FOOT. I just started laughing - I mean, who makes cookies in the shape of feet?? - and trying to get her to choose something like a cute little dog, or a heart, or something more cookie-like. But no - only the foot would do, so we marched up to the front and made the purchase. I thought, she'll just forget we even have it and we'll use the other myriads of cute shapes in our collection when it comes time to make the cookies.

While I was getting out several of them yesterday, which one do you think fell out of the container and landed right next to Rachel? I couldn't believe it. But her eyes lit up like it was Christmas again when she saw it. "Oh, Mommy, don't forget this one!" I sighed and thought, no big deal. I told her we'd just have to frost the feet either green or white (the 2 colors of frosting we had in the freezer). Well, when it came time to frost them, she threw a fit at the thought of having to eat a green foot (wouldn't you?). And what color did they have to be? Skin-colored, of course! I asked her, "How in the world am I supposed to come up with skin-colored frosting?" And she answered with the confidence of a 4-yr-old, "Oh, you'll think of something, Mom."

As it turned out, I ended up making another batch of frosting - half pink and half yellow - for the flowers and hearts. So I took a little of each color and blended them to make sort of a peach color, which finally satisfied Rach. It was my job to frost the cookies, and hers to add the sprinkles; and I couldn't help thinking the whole time, "I can't believe I'm standing here frosting FEET.

The best part is, we used up the green frosting on the butterflies and the white on the snowmen, but now, sitting in the freezer, is half of the yellow frosting, which we'll have to use up again. (Why can't I make myself throw anything away? Why?) At least this time I was smart enough to hide it behind the peas. . .

Entropy

If I've heard it once, I've heard it 100 times: "A woman's work is never done!" And why is this? The answer can be summed up in just one word: Entropy!

Danny informed me one day - jokingly - that my job falls into 4 main categories: laundry, cleaning, cooking, and conjugal duties (not necessarily in that order). We laughed, and I punched him, but it's true! As a stay-at-home-mom, much of my time goes toward tackling the mountains of laundry that have accumulated in the last 2 days, making sure there's enough food to satisfy five stomachs three times a day (sometimes more!), meeting the emotional/physical needs of my husband and children, and continually wiping things off - sticky surfaces, dirty faces, poopy bottoms; you name it.

I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to be home during the day with my children and actually enjoy most elements of this calling. The downer, however, is the fact that nothing I do ever stays done.

It is absolutely the best feeling in the world when I finally get the floors scrubbed, the bathroom cleaned, the rugs vacuumed and the house smells clean and fragrant. I look around our immaculate, thouroughly disinfected house, and sigh with contentment as the sun streams through the windows. This lasts until the munchkins wake up from their nap, or until the next meal, if I'm lucky. I often have to resist the urge to tie my little darlings to the sofa so they CAN'T mess anything up for at least an hour. Sometimes I strap them all into their car seats before we leave the house, and then I give them each a cheese stick, and dash back into the house to clean up while they can't follow along behind me, undoing what I've just done.

And then there's the laundry. Does anyone anywhere ever have the experience of ALL their laundry actually being clean and put away?? Even as I take the last load out of the dryer and begin to fold and put away little clothes, more dirty ones are accumulating. It's the same with dishes. I've often wondered how I can spend so much time washing dishes and loading/unloading the dishwasher, yet both sides of the sink are always full of dishes!

I love to cook, and I love creating healthy (sort of) meals for my family that they enjoy. But unfortunately, I can't just give my family one meal in the morning and expect it to last the week. There is always another meal to be fixed, no matter how large or delicious the previous one.

As for the last item . . . all I can say is thank goodness it's so enjoyable, because this is another area that needs continual attention!

The fact is, my job would be much easier if diapers stayed clean, books could be read once and memorized, doors and walls remained fingerprint-free, and laundry stayed neatly folded in perfectly-organized closets and drawers.

But none of this happens. I know that when I serve around the house, I am performing tasks which will have to be redone in a matter of days, hours and even minutes. But this also makes me thankful. Thankful for the life in this house and the day-to-day activity that make constant clean-up a necessity. Thankful that my kids are able to dirty their clothes and eat constantly. Thankful that this life, where things like death and entropy rule, is a constant reminder of a better life to come - an eternity with Christ Jesus "where moth and rust do not corrupt, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

New Year Intentions

Although I'm less than 4 days into it, this week has been a rather difficult one, as weeks go. This is mostly because some recent events have forced me to take a good hard look at myself, and in so doing I've been confronted with how far I am from what God has called me to be.

So instead of making a list of worthless "resolutions" which I know I'll never keep, I've chosen just a few things that I want - no, need - to pursue more intentionally than I have the past 12 months.

Study of God's Word
I have plenty of excuses. After all, who can consistently make time for God with three small children running around? The funny thing is, I somehow find ample time for things I truly enjoy: scrapbooking, blogging, practicing guitar (on occasion!), watching Lost (when it actually airs) and 24. Why, then, can't I seem to regularly make time for God?

The fact is, I am only hurting myself. I'm depriving myself of time spent in the presence of my heavenly Father, to whom I owe everything, including my life both present and future. 2 days ago, when the kids were finally in bed napping, it hit me how I miss this time - how I miss HIM, and I put my head in my hands and cried like a baby. Then and there I decided a lot of little things have got to change. I need to start going to bed a little earlier so I can rise a little earlier and start my day with Him. If it doesn't happen first thing in the morning, there's no guarantee it will happen at all.

There will always be excuses. I will never reach a point in life where time suddenly begins to multiply itself and I wonder what I'm going to do with it all! As much as I long to spend time with God, it will never happen unless I discipline myself to take the necessary "small" steps to get there.

Reading
I used to read for pleasure. I read everything I could get my hands on, especially books by CS Lewis, Phillip Yancey, and other favorite authors. But once again, I've let the "I-have-three-children-and-a-husband-in-full-time-ministry" excuse keep me from pursuing this love in recent years. (Good grief, I never realized what a whiner I am!)

I thouroughly enjoyed reading and reviewing this book, because of its convicting content, and this book, because even though I didn't agree with much of it, this forced me to study Scripture in order to discern the truth. Also, critical thinking sharpens the mind. Which is why I'm totally embarrassed that the last time I finished a book was back in July.

Time with friends and family
If I had a dollar for every time I said, in talking with someone, "Sure, we'll get together soon!" I'd be able to purchase the scrapbooking supplies I've been wanting. If I had a dollar for every time I actually took action to make it happen, I might be able to afford one frappucino. Sad testimony to the kind of friend I've been lately.

If you're wondering why I've not mentioned being a better wife and mother, I believe the above list (mostly #1!) will help me work to that end. Being in the Word more cannot but overflow into every area of my life, making me a better disciple, and then a more godly mother, wife, friend, and overall servant of Christ.

I know that I will not have a perfect year in regard to these things, but 1)that's why they're not resolutions, and 2)I will do it in God's strength, not mine. Thank heaven for that!

Ouch!

My darling little boy said something to me tonight that no one has ever said to me before.

As we put Rach and Zekers to bed, they both begged me to rub their backs and sing to them - something I do about every third night. I sang to Rachel first: "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing" and "Beauty and the Beast." Then it was Zekers' turn. I sang "Your Froggy Friend" (a song I conjured up one night when he kept asking for a frog song and I couldn't think of one). Then we sang together "Mary had a Little Lamb."

I kid you not, these were the staccato words that greeted my motherly ears as soon as I finished the last word of the song: "Now get out of my bed."

I think it was the word "now" that caught me most off-guard. Like he was saying "You've served your purpose; now get out!" A more "adult" expression (which I won't put down on my G-rated blog!) of this sentiment comes to mind.

I always knew this kind of thing happens when boys come to a certain age - an age where they no longer crawl up onto their mother's lap for snuggles and never want to be kissed. But at the tender age of 2?! This is the little boy who used to put his hands on either side of my face, say "I love you, Mommy," and give me not just one kiss, but TWO, and a big hug.

My heart has been pierced by a thousand arrows, and my loving husband, who overheard the whole exchange, just sits there and laughs hysterically. We'll see how he feels when Kari Bou says it to him someday. . .

R-Rated Fairy Tales?

". . . and then we ALL DIED!"

Rachel paused dramatically, waiting for my response to her "dream" from the night before. And I may have given her the horrified reaction she hoped for, had it not been about the 87th such story I've heard from her in the last 2 months. I've been scratching my head over her recent fixation with death, revenge and violence. I've asked myself: What would make a 4-yr-old think about such things? Are we letting her watch too much TV? (She watches about 5 hours per week.) Do the shows/movies she's watching contain violent material? (Maybe, if you consider Veggie Tales, Dora and Arthur to be dark characters with a death wish.) Do her friends talk this way? (Not that I've observed.) What, then, could be the cause for this newfound infatuation with death?

And just before bed the other day, it hit me: I've been questioning the wrong form of media!

Nothing in this world delights the hearts of our little ones more than being read to. As long as you will read to them, they will sit there hanging on every word. (I guess they get it honestly - as a child, my parents quickly caught on that the most effective way to punish me was to ground me from reading. Sick, I know.) It's really not even necessary for us to read to them now, as they have all their favorite books committed to memory. Which brings us to the culprit in Rachel's "death obsession": bedtime fairy tales!

I sheepishly admit that for years I've been duped by beautiful illustrations and cute characters and tradition, and most of all, by the innocence of the words "fairy tales." As I read through some the other day, I was flabbergasted by the content of many of these children's stories. For instance:

Hansel and Gretel
During a famine, a poor woodcutter's wife actually persuades him to leave their 2 children, Hansel and Gretel, deep in the woods so they won't have to feed them anymore. The children find their way back home, and the woodcutter once again takes them into the woods, leaving them to die. They instead stumble upon the cottage of a witch, who takes them captive and tries to fatten up Hansel in order to eat him. They outsmart the witch, pushing her into an oven so that she cooks to death. They return home to their father, who, like any father worth his salt, hasn't had a moment's peace since leaving them to die in the forest. (The stepmother has since died, so everyone lives happily ever after.)

Henny Penny
This delightful story takes the reader on a fun little romp. Henny Penny discovers that "they sky is falling" when an acorn falls on her head, and sets off to tell the king. On her way she picks up the incredibly gullible Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Goosey Loosey, and Turkey Lurkey. The unfortunate group meets up eventually with Foxy Loxy, who tricks them all into entering his cave. Henny Penny gets cold feet at the last minute and runs home, leaving her faithful following to their doom. The end. (OK, the story never goes into detail about their fate, but come on - what chance do 4 hapless fowl have against such a foe? And this inevitably leads to questions such as "What happend to Ducky Lucky in Foxy Loxy's cave, Mommy?" What parent wants to be the bad guy who says, "Well, sweetheart, he ate her for lunch"? Instead, I have to make up some elaborate lie in which they all have a big party together or some such nonsense.)

Snow White
A jealous queen orders a woodsman to take her stepdaughter into the woods and kill her. He's such a nice guy, he can't bring himself to actually kill her, instead just leaving her there to die alone. When the evil queen discovers the girl is still alive and living with 7 cute dwarves, she tries three times to murder the girl, through various deceptions, finally nearly succeeding by giving her a poisoned apple to eat. Of course, it all works out in the end when the prince comes to wake her from her coma with a kiss.

The Three Little Pigs
Three little pigs build houses of straw, wood and brick. A big bad wolf blows down 2 of the 3 houses and immediately gobbles up each terrified occupant. The wolf, stung by multiple failures to eat the third pig, decides to enter his house by climbing down the chimney, saying, "Pig, the time has come to eat you up." The wolf goes down the chimney, falls into a pot of water and is boiled alive. The end.

Then there are stories like Jack and the Beanstalk, where a poor boy steals a bag of gold, a magic harp and a magic hen from a giant (it's ok, because the boy and his mother need the items much more than the mean giant does), but it all works out in the end when Jack kills the giant, who is trying to get his stuff back. Again, this is a good thing, because the giant is mean and ugly, and also a bad poet.

The fact is, I read stuff to my kids that I wouldn't let them watch on TV! I began to wonder, what are these books teaching my little girl? That "stepmother" is a bad word? That forests exist for the convenience of people who want to kill their children? So I did a little research on the origins of fairy tales and discovered that although large numbers of literary fairy tales were written in 17th century France, most of the tales which are still told and retold now are far older in origin . . . Literary fairy tales of great imagination and invention, often quite cruel and gruesome, were being created by the women surrepticiously rebelling against the contraints placed on them by their restrictive society. They were not written for children.

From this, I have concluded that I should win "Mom of the Year" for reading my toddlers books that teach them about the politics of 17th century France!

A Week to Remember

Not only is this my first post of the new year, it is also my 100th post! Of course, neither of these facts guarantees that the contents will be any good, but you're welcome to read anyway . . .

I've had the most wonderful week - truly an undeserved gift from God (and what good thing isn't?).

The week before Christmas, Danny took a half day off work to find a Christmas present for me. Although I'm still not convinced the trip wasn't 97% motivated by the prospect of having lunch with good friends who work near the mall, this was incredibly sweet for a couple of reasons: 1. It was about 3-4 days earlier than he normally shops for me, and 2. He went bargain shopping - he actually hit several stores and compared prices, before purchasing my gifts at half the normal price. I couldn't be prouder or more touched. Seriously.

The only problem was that one of the gifts didn't quite fit right, so we went back to the mall the day after Christmas to exchange it. Unknown to us, a little fuzzy caterpillar had crept onto one of the strollers we threw into the back of the Explorer, and decided he also wanted to do a little after-Christmas sightseeing. He entertained Rachel all day - she hardly took her eyes off him. He crawled all over the stroller, ate lunch with us, spent time at the play area, came dangerously close to being eaten himself (by Kari Bou, of course), and ended up in a styrofoam cup on the drive home. It was a beautiful thing - her eyes sparkling and her little face filled with wonder over something I wouldn't normally have thought twice about flicking off the stroller in the parking lot. Sadly, he didn't last the night, although we supplied him with leaves and grass and even a twig.

The remainder of the week was spent working on projects: I sorted and folded and organized mountains of baby & kid's clothes, finally managing to fit them into 6 32-gal. containers and 8 18-gal. containers. Danny helped me sanitize all the toys in the nursery. We took down the remainder of our Christmas decorations. We had dinner with friends Friday night and Saturday night. We spent the morning with Mom & Dad on Saturday, hanging out and opening the gifts in our stockings, and eating the most delicious bean casserole for lunch.

On Sunday, Danny left for church 90 minutes early, so he could have some time to pray before getting up to speak. (After the morning's message, I told him he needs to do that every week!) As I began herding the kids out to the car for church, I noticed Zekers was wearing a black afro wig he received for Christmas. And do you think he would let me remove it from his head? Not a chance! (This was probably my fault for collapsing on the floor and wetting myself when I saw him) Since we'd already had a typical Sunday morning (If you have kids you know what I mean!), I decided it really wasn't worth fighting him over and left it on. So he spent ALL of Sunday morning wearing the thing, until his nap after lunch. My son is definitely not worried about keeping up appearances!

That night we rang in the new year with some friends and Zekers got sick. He went to bed at 7 with a fever and cough, and laid around all of New Year's Day. In fact, we all did. We did absolutely nothing all day, except eat and lay around! I made tofu pancakes and sausage for lunch - one of the kids' favorite meals - and we played and napped and snacked on leftovers and basically frittered the day away. How wonderful.

Oh yeah - Karis took a rather un- conventional bath. I had just bathed Zekers, hoping it would help him feel a little better. Several minutes afterward, we discovered our Kari Bou had decided she needed a bath as well, only she hadn't bothered with the little details, like removing her clothes and shoes. Fortunately for her, she's darn cute, and was obviously having the time of her life, so we ended up stripping her down and letting her take her bath. The only thing she loves more than stuffing her face is bathing.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Visiting the Hospital: What's Hot and What's Not

The following post is brought to you by Christine Wright (my mother-in-law.) Please feel free to pass on this information to anyone who might find it helpful. If you think of any additional suggestions, those are welcome, too!

Hi. I am Danny's Mom. As you may know, I have undergone several major surgeries during the past year; the most recent one was several weeks ago. I would like to offer a few suggestions that will help when you're visiting friends or family recovering in the hospital.

1) No matter how long it takes you to drive to the hospital, park, and find the patients room: ONLY STAY 15 MINUTES per visit. Remember, the patient is there to recover and heal. They may have had several visitors prior to yours. This is by far the most important point.

2) Many patients are on special diets. I was on ice chips for a solid week....which leads to my second item: Don't bring food or candy for the patient unless you have been asked to do so. If you don't want to go empty handed here are some suggestions: chap stick, SOFT tissues, toilet paper (enough said) hand sanitizer or lotions.

3) Don't talk about your past illnesses or someone who suffered from the same thing the patient is going through unless it is pertinent or positive. I actually had one person say to me, "My mother had the same thing you have and was comfortable until almost the very end when the pain finally got so bad before she died...."

4) Don't bring children unless they are family.

5) Remember the spouse of the patient. Maybe you could have them for dinner or run an errand for them while they are spending so much time at the hospital.

6) Don't visit if you or anyone in your home is sick. The thought of coughing is terrifying to someone with stitches....on this I can speak with experience! On that same note, be aware that laughing can hurt too, so be sensitive to body language.

7) If the patient appears to be in pain or very tired ONLY STAY 5 MINUTES. You can always visit them later when they are home or feeling better.

8) One of the sweetest things people did for me was to offer a short prayer before they left. It was a real comfort.

The knowledge that people are praying for you and care about you is unbelievably comforting. Hopefully this list will help you as you carry out the important ministry of encouraging those laid up in the hospital.

So Long, And Thanks for all the Fish

So, a couple of things about our Christmas weren't necessarily what you'd call "expected."

It was really a wonderful day overall. We had breakfast, opened presents in our PJ's, and spent several hours figuring out how some of them worked. Later in the afternoon we drove to Ma & Pa Wright's house, where we had dinner, hung out and opened more presents. We had the kids in bed by 9:15, and watched "A Christmas Story" - the best Christmas movie ever made - for the 86th time. All in all, a best-case scenario. However, there were a few interesting elements to the day. . .

To begin with, none of our stomachs are accustomed to heavy fare in the morning, so the special breakfast I got up early to fix (french toast with strawberry topping and cheesy scrambled eggs) left all of us feeling a little sick. (A sidenote: I looked over as I was making breakfast, to see that Kari Bou had torn a page out of my magazine - the page with the recipe for the french toast - and was happily eating/shredding it. She must have known in advance that she'd never want to eat this meal again.)

Then there was the silly string I picked up the day before Christmas, thinking it would be just the coolest stocking-stuffer ever for both Rach and Zekers. I wasn't prepared for the tragedy that ensued when Rachel sprayed it and ran out the living room holding her nose and crying hysterically. I was really annoyed with her and her hypersensitive sense of smell, until I got a whiff of the stuff. I didn't know it was possible for silly string to give off such a stench. (The really great thing about it is when she's not cooperating, I just aim the can in her direction and she becomes amazingly obedient.)

One of the best parts of the day was taking down our tree. That's right - we got rid of our Christmas tree on Christmas Day, and we haven't suffered even a moment of remorse. I'm sure I've forever ruined any good opinion of me that remains out there, but even so, it was well worth it. See, I've discovered something about myself in recent years: I have exactly four weeks of Christmas spirit in me. Not a day more.

I'm always SO ready for the Christmas season to come. This year I began listening to Christmas music the week before Thanksgiving. We cut our tree the second day the farm was open - 2 days after Thanksgiving. We did all our decorating - indoor and out - that same day. I threw myself into shopping, mailing out cards, wrapping gifts, making cookies. We took the kids to a local mall so they could ride the "Christmas trian" and of course, saw loads and loads of lights. I took such delight in all of it. Until December 18th.

Without warning, it hit me: the "Bah-Humbugs". I was party-ed out. I was sick of watering the tree and the poinsettias. Sticking a fork in my eye sounded more appealing than doing five more minutes of shopping. I thought to myself, "If I hear 'Have Yourself a Merry Stinkin' Little Christmas' just one more time, I will spontaneously combust." I began having nightmares in which I endlessly rolled out cookie dough and frosted horrid little snowmen and reindeer cookies, while Rach and Zekers shoved handfuls of dough into their mouths and got flour all over their faces, hair and clothing, and I began yelling incoherently . . . Oh, wait a second - that wasn't a dream.

Anyway, one of the highlights of Christmas for me was finally getting my living room back. It looks HUGE after the holidays, without a 7-foot tree taking up half the room. I'm sure that, come next October, I will once again be chomping at the bit to welcome the Christmas season back into our lives, but for now - Adios, Navidad. I'm ready to get on with my life.

As for Zekers, "Santa" (alias = Grandpa & Grandma) granted him his greatest wish. Not only did he receive a spiderman costume, he got his little dog for Chrismtas. "Sparky" hasn't been out of his sight in four days. And the best part is that the dog is off-limits to Kari Bou!

A Cuppa Christmas Cheer

November and December have blown through our house like a whirlwind - crazy weeks full of Christmas festivities, time with friends, church involvements, and cookie-baking sessions. Consequently, family time has become an endangered species at our home.

So it was wonderful Wednesday evening to finally take our much-anticipated annual trip to see the Christmas light display, set up throughout the park in a nearby town. Even the drive there was beautiful; we admired house after house adorned with garland, bows, lights and candles. Driving through the park, we ooh-ed and ahh-ed over jumping reindeer, candy canes, stars streaming with light, little Christmas houses, a tunnel of lights, the 12 Days of Christmas, and even a beaver cutting down a tree. The only 2 things that dampened the evening's excitement were 1) the steady rainfall, and 2) Rachel stating flatly on the way there that she's tired of Christmas lights and just needs a break from them. On the way home, though, even she had to admit we'd had fun and that she'd changed her mind.

THE highlight of the evening was getting to sit with Santa - well, at least for Rach and Zekers. For some obscure reason, every one of our darling children, upon seeing Santa "in the flesh" for the first time, has immediately burst into frightened tears. The crazy thing is, our kids aren't afraid of anything else - not of vacuum cleaners or thunderstorms or the dark or large dogs. No, nothing strikes fear into their little hearts like the sight of a jolly old man dressed in red and white. Go figure.

So, what could have been a lovely portrait of our three children with St. Nick instead became a snapshot of Santa awkwardly holding a screaming, wriggling Kari Bou while the other 2 looked on. After the picture, I relieved him of Little Bou, and Zekers actually got to sit on Santa's lap and share with Santa his lifelong wish to own a dog.

We had hot chocolate, candy canes and cookies in the "Christmas Cabin", which all three of them enjoyed immensely, although poor Zekers has never encountered a cup of . .. well, anything, that didn't end up all over the lower half of his face. I'm so afraid his future wife will be forced to carry wet wipes in her purse to clean him off after every meal out.

My favorite part of the evening was the drive home - Danny & I just sitting in the front seat, smiling at the little conversations and songs going on behind us and talking about nothing in particular; relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Reflecting on the little baby sent to offer us life through his death - God in the flesh. I hope that in coming years, admid the shopping and decorating and lights and festivities of the holidays, that we can somehow instill in our children the wonder of the miracle of Christmas. And I pray that your Christmas is filled with wonder and awe at the greatest gift of all time.

Merry Christmas!

Naked and Proud

Kari Bou has a new hobby (in addition to destroying everything in sight, and stealing her siblings' toys): undressing herself. She's never in her life kept on a pair of socks, so that's nothing new. But she has recently decided that wearing shirts is way overrated. Several days ago, she wriggled out of her onesie during her nap (and then walked around the house for an hour, half naked), and today, her favorite pasttime appeared to be pulling her arms out of her sweater and yelling in frustration when she couldn't get the rest of it over her head. I found out last week that she is in the 85th percentile for head circumference, which may explain some of her difficulties.

The second picture was added for cuteness' sake (and, of course, I'm completely objective when it comes to evaluating the cuteness of my kids). Also, it may be the last shot I ever get of her in clothes.

Ah, the memories we're making . . .

Toddlers and Handbells Aren't as Bad a Combination as I Once Thought

It wasn't easy, but I managed to get a couple of snapshots of the handbell craziness. Below you will see exclusive footage of Rachel and Zekers in their musical debut.

I am happy to report that I won the bet Danny & I had going. He said Zekers wouldn't ring his bell, and I said Zekers wouldn't stop ringing his bell. Although I will say the little man could have exhibited a bit more excitement; most of the time he looked like he was about to fall asleep right there on stage.

Rach did great. She paid attention and didn't pick her nose once! What more could a parent hope for?

Stuff

Rachel has decided she is now a movie producer. Her most recent production, still untitled, involves sword-weilding mice and a "Tower of Evilness." Apparently, shots were fired from said tower at the mice, who feigned death to avoid more shots. They are still working out a plan to kill the ruthless monster in the tower. She actually scribbled out "notes" on a stack of little notebook pages, spread them out on the floor, and acted out the story for me. I have no idea where she came up with all of this and am a little disturbed that her "film" includes so much violence. But it did make me laugh.

In other news, Kari Bou has started saying more words, including "Hi" and "Zekee" and "down" (actually pronounced "Daaaaaan"). She was up to her usual antics today. While making a batch of Christmas cookies, I found her on the kitchen table, playing in the cream cheese filling I was about to use in a pumpkin roll. I believe she may be high from all the sugar she's ingested this week.

And Zekers . . . well, he's been talking quite a bit, too. Today I sent him to the bathroom to get a Kleenex for Kari Bou, and I heard him muttering in the hall, "That makes no sense." I started laughing, thinking I must have heard him wrong, and went to see what the problem was. He was standing by the bathroom door trying to get it open and saying, "I can't get the door open, Mommy. That makes no sense." I don't even think he knows what that means!

I'll try to get a good pic of Rachel and Zekers playing handbells tomorrow in the morning church service. I can't believe the guts of their teachers, having about 10 or so 2 & 3-yr-old boys play bells along with the older children. They must be teaching the kids really well, though, because Zekers showed me today how he rings his bell and when I asked him how he gets it to stop ringing, he answered, "I hold it against my body, like this." Not bad, for a 2-yr-old.

Maybe Someday I'll Laugh About It

. . .and the craziness continues . . .

I'd been looking forward to this morning all weekend. A friend, who I've gotten to know through a Tuesday morning Bible Study this fall, recently began attending our church. Having given birth to her first child about 2 months ago, and having left the denomination she was previously a part of, she was in dire need of a new wardrobe - and fast. So another friend, Jessi, and I planned to take her to Kohl's this morning to help her pick out some basic items. The PLAN was to leave from our house at 9:30AM.

We had to drive separately, due to "Dora" (our Explorer) being filled with munchkins, and Jessi bringing her two adorable little boys, ages 2 and 11 months. They headed out to the van to wait for me, and the fun began.

As I attempted to scrunch three little bodies into their coats, I noticed a horrific smell - and knew right away it had to be Zekers. Well, I thought, better here than at the store. After all, it would have been really strange to actually leave the house and have no one poop as we headed out the door.

As I began to dispose of the offending diaper, I noticed the trash can was extremely full, and decided to just quickly take the bag out to the dumpster so the house wouldn't smell like trash upon our return home. Of the hundreds of times I've taken out the trash, I have never actually gotten into a fight with the trash bag like I did this morning. All my pulling and tugging and yanking, and even threatening, did no good. (Rachel did come into the kitchen, though, and ask, "Mommy, why are you yelling at the trash?") Finally, as I was getting ready to just dump it all, including the trash can, into the dumpster, I gave one last mighty yank - and the bag came loose. Very, very loose. Trash went everywhere. The top of the bag was already in ribbons from my previous efforts, which didn't help.

Now, a little trash isn't so difficult to pick up; however, I'd forgotten about the glass dish that broke last night, the fragments of which were now all over the kitchen floor once again. Of course, at that very moment, Zekers and Rachel both came running in to see what the noise had been and tramped through it, luckily with their shoes on. I got them herded out finally and cleaned up the mess. It was about this time that I realized I hadn't heard from Kari Bou in a while. That's NEVER a good thing.

I ran all over the house, yelling her name, to no avail. I checked the bedrooms and even the basement. Nothing. I remember thinking to myself, How on earth do you lose a child in a 1,000 square foot house? The one room I didn't check was the bathroom; I had closed the door 15 minutes ago so she wouldn't go in. Which is why it makes perfect sense that's where she was! She apparently wandered in before I closed the door, and was having the time of her little life. I found her in the sink, of course, "brushing her teeth", with my brush, hair dryer, makeup and other various feminine products covering the floor and stuck to her clothes.

By the time I got her cleaned up, Rach & Zekers had, of course, removed both their coats and their shoes. Suffice it to say, this was not one of the more sanctified moments in our house.

I'll spare you the details of our time at Kohl's. It was pretty much what you'd expect from five kids under the age of five. As long as we kept their little mouths stuffed with a constant stream of crackers, raisins, and peanut butter cookies, everything was mostly tolerable. (As we left, we discovered a cookie stuck to Zeke's rear. Why eat a cookie, after all, when you can just sit on it?) But we found some really cute outfits for our friend, so at least the morning was productive.

By the time we finished eating lunch at Fazoli's Jessi and I had pretty much decided to send ALL the kids to boarding school. And I was feeling really guilty about all the trees that had to die just to supply us and our messy offspring with napkins for one meal. We were completely exhausted, and it was only 1:30.

Of course, the kids were all out cold about five minutes into the drive home. And Rachel woke up the second we got home, so I spent most of the afternoon making cookies and playing "Hi-Ho Cherry-O." (which she always wins)

My newest project is figuring out a way to survive Mondays. . .