June 9-14: The Wesner Week in Review

Proud Grandma, Rose, Bug, and Proud Pappy

Happy girls, just graduated!

Hunk O Man, Rose, Bug, and Me

The grads and those beautiful sisters of theirs:

Babydoll, Rose, Bug, JB, and Barbie

Surprise visit from my sister K

** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ **

No, I have not died and the hogs have not eaten me.

(Thank God!)

That's what Hunk O Man always says when someone's been gone a long time; "hey, we thought you died and the hogs ate you!" Just to clarify: we have never lived on a farm, nor have we ever raised hogs or swine of any sort. And nobody has died. It's just been really busy around here -- crazy busy, if you know what I mean!

xoxox

Living Proverbs 19

Practicing Proverbs 19 -- it's no easy task.

The Bug is very impatient with me lately -- she's being an emotional teenager (for the most part). Because she's now 18, she's speaking to me as a peer, rather than a daughter, which means that the respect factor has basically gone right out the window.

So today I read Proverbs 19, and found these verses --

11 Smart people know how to hold their tongue; their grandeur is to forgive and forget

Definitely easier said than done! But God is enabling me and I have been holding my tongue. Let me reiterate the most important words in that last sentence -- GOD IS ENABLING ME.

19 Let angry people endure the backlash of their own anger; if you try to make it better, you'll only make it worse . . .

26 Kids who lash out against their parents are an embarrassment and disgrace. 27 If you quit listening, dear child, and strike off on your own, you'll soon be out of your depth.

I think these two verses make me want to cry, because they are both the way that the Bug is acting right now, and it is exactly the way I have acted with my own parents in the past. You just can't look at your own child misbehaving and not remember doing it yourself.

So today I am both asking God for forgiveness, and blessing Him for the grace He has shown me. I can now turn and show my child the same grace. Choosing to be angry back at her just seems kind of stupid.

All part of the abundant life -- and tomorrow is another day --

xoxox

He Knows My Name, He knows My Cell Number, Too.

Today is my 23rd wedding anniversary. I am amazed that I have done anything consistently in my life for 23 years. And yet there is that Hunk O Man that I love infinitely more now than when I married him. I suppose even more amazing is that he loves me still, after all the joy and pain and heartache of 23 years and 5 kids. Once again, I praise God who is the Giver of all good things.

Yesterday, he and I (well, yes, God too, but I mean Hunk O Man and I) took a little trip to the beach. We stood in the warm sand and watched as the waves came in -- it was a little breezy, with rain to the north and south of us, so they were the kind of waves that come in kind of lined up, about 4-5 rows deep. The blue of the sky and the deep aqua of the water just brought a peace over me that only God can give. Wow. I do love the ocean.

We shopped our way home from the beach, stopping at various thrift and Goodwill stores. We also stopped at the Sprint store. In our efforts to curb costs, we have decided to forego our "land line" and go with all cell phones. However, it took a miracle God provided through a wonderful woman named Andrea to make it all happen. Believe it or not, it actually will save us money.

So last night and today, each girl has been beside herself with the new toy. Programming the ring tones, getting all the contacts in, etc. All but one have brand-new phones (which we got free). They have texted more friends in a half-hour's time than in probably all the time previous to getting the new phones -- because each one has her own number now, it's important to let everyone know. No more sharing a phone, or borrowing a sister's or mom's phone. Now each one has her own.

I have sat and watched all this furious texting and programming, bent heads with thumbs flying. And I realised that their excitement stems from something we all feel very deeply: to them, having their very own cell phone, their own number, means that people can now know their name. They are important, they have value, they have their own cell phones. 'It's mine,' they think. It's me.

And I remembered this: He knows my name, He knows my every thought, He sees each tear that falls, and hears me when I call.

I suppose we could add that He knows our cell number, too. And don't get me wrong - our girls (thankfully) each know God in a deep and personal way that no cell phone could ever replace.

But being recognized for who we are is so universal. We want to be seen, to be heard, to be valuable enough to our friends and family to matter. We want someone to know our name. And our phone number. And to email or text or call us just to see how we're doing.

So whether or not you have a new cell phone, or no cell phone at all, don't forget this --

xoxox

He Speaks Amid the Noise Around Me

Listening for His voice in the waters.

It's been quite a week for us. Spring Break -- Washington DC on Mon/Tues/Wed. What a trip! I was able to stand with Barbie just inches from the documents that declare our country independent and free. And hundreds of years old. I loved the National Portrait Gallery best, I think. Rose loved the Museum of Natural History and all the rocks there -- Hunk O Man fell in love with Abraham Lincoln all over again at the American History Museum, and even saw a play at the Ford Theater. Bug found a shop in Chinatown that was the equivalent of a WalMart, Babydoll kept us on track with her iPod Touch apps, locating the nearest McDonalds and such, and JB imitated everyone and had us all laughing.

JB rides the metro

The gang in the subway. JB wants to know whatchoo lookin at?

Portrait of Juliette Gordon Low, our favourite one

They even had typos in the 18th century

Me and Barbie -- the clones -- thinking we may be lost --

Lotsa escalators and comfy shoes

We came home on Thursday, and then we all went different directions on Friday and Saturday:

Rose went to Myrtle Beach to spend time with her boyfriend's family. She had her own suite in a house right on the ocean! They love her so much. If she and Boyfriend ever break up, we may have to move.

Bug and Hunk O Man went to UNC Asheville to check things out. Bug thinks she wants to attend there next year. They also found Mast General Store, the greatest of all general stores.

Barbie, JB, Babydoll, and their good friend BKnee and I headed for the beach. My friend Nan was generous enough to lend us her beach cabin for the night.

Walking the dog

Babydoll in the cold water

Wet dog having the time of his life

Beach bunnies

The weather was gorgeous -- could have been warmer, but hey, we'll definitely take all that sunshine! At first the girls went to the beach without me for about 2 hours -- I had some alone time; then I went over, then they left to go get some lunch and I was left alone on the beach. They all got sunburned -- Babydoll looks like she has some tropical disease, because Barbie sprayed on the sunblock but never rubbed it in!

I just sat in the sand and looked at the waves and tried to concentrate on the sound. I have tinnitus, a high-pitched ringing in my ears, that sounds like something electronic. All the time. I noticed while at the beach that I couldn't hear it over the sound of the waves.

This was just a gift from God. So I was reminded about the ocean, and why I love it so much, and why it just heals me inside sometimes. I needed that healing on Friday and Saturday. Life has been so full of girls yelling at each other, arguing, at one another's throats. There are days I wish they'd just throw one another down on the floor and have it out. It would be less stressful on everyone. Boys? Easy. Girls? Definitely not.

As I sat there on the beach, I thought once again about how the ocean is so like God. It's huge. It never stops; those waves lapping at the sand there where I was have been lapping there since long before I was here, and will be there long after. Its tide faithfully comes in and out.

Sometimes it is scary, because the waves are big. It can do a lot of damage in a storm.

The sound of it is so soothing. It really is a roar, but not a scary one. It's like white noise, very comforting.

It supports a myriad variety of life. We actually couldn't exist without our oceans. It gives life and sustains life.

It is healing. I will never forget my brother Scott and his stubbed toes at the beach in Florida when we were children. He cried and cried when the salt water touched them -- but they healed in no time. What do we give people in the hospital when they need fluids? Saline solution. Sea salt will cure meat and act as a preservative, also.

It is deep. We may never know its depths. It holds mysteries -- weird, alien-looking life -- that amaze us and creep us out.

Sometimes it's warm, and sometimes cold. Sometimes it invites you to play -- other times, it invites you to walk and listen and meditate.

I love the ocean. I have spent long hours there talking to God when in deep despair. And God has met me there and just been with me.

So today I bless Nan and her generosity, and I bless God for healing my bruised heart. Someday I'll live by the sea, maybe, and I'll go outside in the morning and sing and praise Him for His goodness -- and all the ways it is reflected in His oceans.

xoxoxox

Happy New Year

Best way to get your kids to clean up the house?

Let them host their own New Year's Eve party.

Best way to get your kids to trash the house again?

Let them host their own New Year's Eve party.


The Marco Polos are here and the fun is on!

Hey, Looky What I Made, Ma!

I did these for the girls for Christmas. JB helped me. I wanted some kind of an elf with me that would verify to me that these were either 1-a really bad idea, or 2-a really good one. Turns out they were a really good one -- the girls loved them!

I found the hoodies at Big Lots for $5 each. Then I got cans of a fabric paint called "Simply Spray" at Michael's for another $5 each. I followed a tutorial -- sort of -- that I found, and attempted to make Rose's (the first one) in school colors. After that, I just played with all sorts of colors.

The names I made using a stencil I found on clearance at Lowe's.

Cool, huh?

Randomness and a Little Preaching.

Sorry I've been so delinquent in my posting lately -- I've been so preoccupied with trying to keep doing normal life while being a world reknown actress as yet undiscovered . . .

Oh, come on. I'm kidding. I have a VERY small part in a local play. My daughter Babydoll is the star, second only to her good friend Shana, who is actually The Big Star. Of the play.

Anyway! Here is my family's latest obsession. Some kids do crack. Our kids do this:

I am not even kidding. The shopping list for yesterday stated "Crack Dressing."

Mama Belle over at The Bayou Belles and Their Beau asks this:

Please, oh please, tell me ... what is the deal with "Twilight" and grown women's fascination with it?

I would also like to know why everyone seems to be bent on filling their minds with all this vampire crap garbage. Folks, it's about VAMPIRES. If the story were this wonderful fabulous love story between Satan and some gorgeous goblin, would you feel the same way?

In the past two weeks, I read three books that I found to be incredibly good. They are "The Circle Trilogy" by Ted Dekker. No vampires. Just a good story about a killer virus that's going to annhiliate the world, and the unequalled love story between Jesus and His bride. No kidding; everytime I think about God now, I think about this love story. Talk about romance! And suspense, and action -- this trilogy has it all.

No vampires. Just these things from Philippians 4:8:

Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious--the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. (The Message)

During this Christmas season, the best thing we can do is fill our minds with the things that are all about Christmas -- not things which are about our Enemy.

And as my husband often quotes -- I truly do apologise if I stepped on your toes. I was aiming for your heart.

xox

A Little Genetic OCD

Sometimes we don't realise that we've passed along a genetic trait.

Hunk O Man and I were just on a little shopping trip. We drove by Lowe's and noticed that they have fresh Christmas trees out already. Also, there was a sign for the Optimist Club who will be selling trees in the soccer field next to El Tenampa.

And we had to ask each other, does this mean that their trees are exceptionally cheerful and optimistic?

ANYWAY.

This reminded us both of our first Christmas tree shopping experience, about 6 months after we'd gotten married. Hunk O Man decided that we should go to Hoagland to get a tree at the fire station. Hoagland was about 5 miles south of our town.

When we got there, I saw the most pitiful assortment of Charlie Brown trees I'd ever seen. Of course Hunk O Man walks up to one, pulls it out, and says "How about this one?"

It was about four feet tall and scrawny.

I had a newlywed-bride-fit. "What!" I said. "Are you kidding me? You call that a tree?"

Hunk O Man was clueless. He pulled out tree after tree, only to be met with no, no, and jeesh are you kidding me no.

We finally went to Frank's Nursery and Craft and found a very nicely shaped seven footer, and of course Hunk O Man balked at the price (because he squeaks when he walks). But he bought the perfect tree. For his bride.

Thereafter, he has ceased to make this mistake again. He knows that it will take awhile to get The Right Tree.

I find this odd, but I have to say that as the kids have gotten older and we go to find a tree, the time it takes varies proportionately with the outside temperature.

And we have gotten all kinds. Cut-Your-Own trees, trees from Lowe's and Home Depot, trees with sharp needles which require you risking your life to touch, trees in California which have soft needles and you buy while wearing shorts, trees cut for free from a church elder's property -- in the dark, no less, using car headlights to see, trees in the freezing cold, trees in the balmy warm.

And these days, when we go to get our tree, it is no longer me saying that it's not the perfect tree. I guess I've done this enough times in my life now to figure it out in about 5 minutes. The other 20 minutes is at least two of the girls debating as to whether or not it's The Right Tree. And believe me, then the other three girls get their opinions in and it's at least another 15 minutes to referee the discussion and get a concensus.

Then it's the cool part of watching the people shake out the needles and wrap the tree in a net, and then all of us all climbing all over the minivan with bungee cords attaching it to the roof.

(I've been known run for cover and get in the front passenger seat at this point).

The best fun, always, is the cutting of the net. We actually have treasured video footage of doing this year after year -- taking turns with the scissors, watching the tree explode out of the netting.

And everyone knows when we go to decorate it, nobody gets their hands in the ornament box except the Mama. The Mama will put on the hook and hand out the ornaments. You run the risk of getting your hand swatted, your eggnog confiscated, or your very life taken if you are so brazen as to even consider the idea of sticking your hand into the ornament box.

I am awaiting the day when one of my sons-in-law calls me, and says, "MIL, I cannot believe how long it took your daughter to pick out a stinkin' CHRISTMAS TREE!"

And I will smile. I will disavow any knowledge of this particular daughter's OCD (no matter which one it is). I will be compassionate and understanding.

And then I will reply, "Just wait until you try and stick your hand in the ornament box."

xox

Bible Trivia Nights

Hunk O Man has been trying to stump the girls at the dinner table. They're all PK (Preacher's Kids) so they should know some stuff about the bible, right? I mean, you don't sing things like "Zaccheus was a wee little man . . ." and "The B-I-B-L-E" for years and years without learning something, right?

Well, JB has really gotten into it. No surprise, really, because she's the brainiac of our house.

So the other night, Hunk O Man asks this: Why did Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem?

JB frowns. She is stumped.

Hunk O Man gives her a hint. "Remember? All the inns were full? Why would that be?"

(we read the Christmas story, directly from Luke 2, EVERY YEAR)

JB: "Oh! I know! Because it was Christmastime!"

Friday Randomness

I like helping the girls study for tests. One year I learned all the pertinent details about North Carolina's history and the part it played in our country's independence. Last night it was all about how DNA, RNA, viruses, and bacteria work. Seriously microbiology -- stuff about translation and transduction and mutation and cytoplasm and splicocenes.

After two chapters I thought my brain was going to explode. But Rose just kept giving the right answers! My children are brilliant. What can I say?

Well, I can say this: I think they get all that intelligence from their Daddy!

Have you ever heard of Cheap Stingy Bargains? This website has a plethora of deals. A nice freebie list, too. You can get it via email each week. It's especially useful when you are in the market for virtually any electronic device -- but it also has list after list of deals no matter what you seek. Lately I've been printing coupons and checking out money-saving websites and blogs. But I've gotten CSB for a couple of years now.

Another great money-saver is the Dollar Stretcher. You can get both the regular newsletter and a weekly "reader's tips" newsletter via email. It always has good stuff and lots of links to everything frugal.

I'm getting ready today to go freeze to death up in Ohio, which is "Civilization Yankee." (as opposed to "Civilization North, which is just Virginia").

It is amazing to me that I have two roses and all my impatiens still in my yard, blooming. Even my sweet alyssum is still going strong, even though our nighttime temps have been in the 30's and 40's. But my Mama says that it's cold up north. I'll have to break out the turtlenecks and winter coats. Brr. I may have been born there but I most certainly do not belong there.

I belong on a tropical beach with warm ocean water. Most definitely.

And lastly, tonight is the first swim meet of the season. My Rabid-Screaming-Jumping-Up-and-down-Totally-Embarassing-My-Swimmers -Inner-Swim-Mama is about to emerge.

And you know, all that hollering is so effective when their heads are under water. Like they even can hear me. Or would go faster if they actually could hear me.

And that makes me laugh, so I hope it makes you laugh as well. Have a pointlessly screaming good weekend! I will!

xox



p.s. I am totally IN LOVE with these boots, which I could never afford. It's the cute heel --

Thank You, Greta Van Susternen

I was able to watch Greta's interview last night with Sarah Palin at her home making moose chili.

And I realised this:

I have had it with all the Tina Fey impressions of Sarah Palin. No kidding. I'M DONE.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that SNL had an impact on voter's impressions of Sarah Palin. In many people's minds, she was a mindless Barbie doll that knew nothing, but apparently was just supposed to look good --

And this makes me furious.

My girls find it hilarious to imitate Tina Fey imitating Sarah Palin. Last night at the dinner table, they started in again. They insist they're not making fun of Sarah Palin, but rather Tina Fey. Even Hunk O Man agreed.

I (vehemently) did not agree. And I am finished with this unending laughter and making fun at Sarah Palin's expense.

Let me just clarify. Let's talk about what Sarah Palin actually, in fact, is:

1. A mother of five children, one under a year old and with Down's Syndrome.
2. The Governor of Alaska
3. The first female governor of Alaska.
4. The youngest governor of Alaska.
5. A state-champion athlete.
6. A former TV-sports reporter with a degree in journalism.
7. She's been married to her husband for 20 years.
8. They eloped because they didn't want their parents bearing the expense of a big wedding.
9. She's a born again Christian with conservative values.

Let me just point out a few things here -- to SNL, Tina Fey, and every kid that finds her imitation of Sarah Palin hilariously funny:

Firstly, you don't get to be Governor of any state by being a brainless beauty pageant contestant.

Secondly, you don't run a household of five kids effectively AND be the governor of any state without being some kind of amazing person. How do I know this? Because I have five kids, and none of them has special needs.

Thirdly, you don't gain the kind of maturity to think enough of your parents to spare them the expense of a big wedding by being a selfish, self-centered airhead.

And let me say this once and for all:

Sarah Palin is a successful, pioneering, amazingly talented woman who is able to balance more elements in her life than most working women. She does this by relying on God.

I admire this woman more than I can say. If I could meet her, I'd thank her for being such an example to those of us who struggle to stay organised and focused.

Now. Enough of this nonsense about this incredible woman. Shame on all of us for laughing at any of it.

xox

But Enough About Me. Let's Talk About You. What Do You Think of Me?

Let me just share a couple of things about myself today. Things I thought you might want to know.

First of all, I have the highest degree possible to attain in the ancient art of Wei-Ning. I know! Impressive, isn't it? I started when I was just a baby, and as of now I'm not only an expert, I have BEEN an expert for most of my life. Just ask my mother.

Wei-Ning? (It's pronounced "Why-ning").

Secondly, I am an excellent mother and I take no nonsense. Here's an example: the twins were 5, Barbie was 4, JB was 2, and Babydoll was 1. I was completely fed up with the mess everywhere. Nobody would help, nobody would put toys away, it was a mess. And of course that was during the crazy-without-drugs days, so I threw a fit. I yelled. I ranted. And I said this: "If you're going to act like pigs, I'm going to treat you like pigs!"

Lunch in those days consisted of PB&J (half sandwich cut in a triangle), a container of yogurt, and some fruit. So in keeping with "treating them like pigs," I fixed everyones plate and set it on the wood floor in the kitchen. 'Fine!' I thought. 'Eat like pigs!'

If you are -- or ever have been -- the mother of a toddler (or several toddlers), you know that this was not at all a punishment. It was rather, a picnic. They were thrilled that I would let them eat off the floor. I can see the thoughts even now running thru their tiny minds -- "No getting strapped into a chair! Wah-hooey! This rocks!"

Obviously I saw their clear enjoyment and I realised that even God was laughing at me, and likely thinking it was far past the time for me to just get over myself. This did not make me happy immediately. But pretty soon I lightened up.

There was another time in my excellent mothering career when we had lots and lots of candy in the house. I think it was probably winter -- January, I think -- when all the Halloween candy and Thanksgiving and Christmas goodies had just piled up. So one night, I was very tired, and it was Sunday night after church, and everyone was looking at me for dinner.

I put all the candy in the center of the table and told them to have at it. That was dinner.

See? I told you I was the best mom. Just ask my kids.

I am missing them all terribly today. True to my utmost degree in Wei-Ning, I cannot be made happy. I am tired of the bickering and constant noise when they are here, and I need a break. Then when three or four of them leave, I miss them terribly.

It's hard to be me. Truly. Let the violins begin.

Hunk O Man, Rose, Bug, and Barbie have been gone on a trip to visit colleges since Tuesday morning. They've had a great time, laughing and seeing people. I've spoken to them every day. The prospects at every school so far are very good.

They'll be home tomorrow, and I can't wait. I do miss them. It's entirely too quiet around here. The dishes take no time at all. There's no laundry. The TV is never on, and the dog is stalking me for lack of people to greet and see. Bleah. Even JB and Babydoll miss them.

Are they home yet?

xox

Tradition!

BLOGGY GIVEAWAY IS BELOW! KEEP SCROLLING!

I suppose it is no consequence that our local theatre company is doing this right now.

Hunk O Man and I had our annual "what's happening for the holidays" discussion last Friday, during our Friday date. We have lunch every Friday so we can have an actual conversation. Friday is his day off.

So here's the deal: I can count on one hand the amount of times I've spent Christmas morning somewhere other than my parents' house. I have always been a stickler for going home for Christmas.

I am a stick in the mud when it comes to tradition. Some things just need to be done a certain way. All my married life, even when I lived at the other end of the country, I figured out a way for us to spend Christmas with my parents.

But last year, I vowed we would start our own tradition. It's high time, I thought, that I should be the one making the noodles and pumpkin pie. The girls are getting to the age where they'll be leaving home soon, and I want them to always come home for Christmas if possible. So I thought 'ok, I'll bite the bullet and make a new tradition.'

I was resolved. My mind was made up.

When I asked Rose recently what she'd like to do for Christmas, she said this:

"Well, if we stay here that's fine.

But it's just not Christmas unless we have it at Grandma and Pappy's house."

Hmph.

So over lunch last Friday, Hunk O Man said,

"I think I can work out vacation time to travel this Christmas."

OK. I give!

And here's the deal:

1. I already created the tradition. I've always said it shouldn't be changed.

2. Grandma and Pappy won't always be here.

We should go to them as long as we can.

3. When we head north, we can see Hunk O Man's mama as well.

4. I've been outvoted six to one.

So here's to tradition! We're traveling this year. Again.

(hooray! Don't tell anybody I said that, ok?)

xox

Comedians Live for these Moments

Last night, watching Peter Pan rehearsal was a bit like watching Wally the Director trying to keep several ping-pong balls underwater at the same time. They were going over some scenes with the Lost Boys-- all of whom are an average age of about nine.

I sat reading my new book, "The Shack," and trying not to laugh out loud.

I nearly failed at one point when the Lost Boys were asking Wendy to tell them the "end of the story" of several fairy tales. And then, one asks:

"Tell us the end of Ham-a-lette."

Ham-a-lette?

Oh, the things going thru my mind.

"I'd like a western hamalette, please."
"No, I don't want a big ham steak, just a hamalette please."
"It's not a big ham. It's a little bitty hamalette."
"That's not a boy ham, stupid. It's a girl. She's a Ham-a-lette!"

I successfully refrained from laughing, but I still didn't get much book reading done. Wally corrected the pronounciation by the child, and all the while I'm wondering why?

As I said goodbye to Wally, he likened the entire evening to "herding cats."

I came home to find a couple of girls nestled in my bed, eating dinner and bowls of ice cream and watching my tv.

(And the answer would be no, truly nothing really is sacred these days)

So I plopped down in the chair and Barbie started talking about something -- can't remember what -- and JB was texting on the phone, and Barbie decided to change positions. So she arranged herself on her stomach, with her head at the end of the bed facing me, and kept talking.

JB decided to do the same. And then Barbie wanted the phone.

And their heads collided. It was a funny moment, and I went into a laughing/coughing fit truly appropriate for a critical condition intensive care TB ward.

They also laughed. Barbie exclaimed that JB's head was "So hard!" I agreed. JB has a round head, like her daddy. Like Charlie Brown.

Now Barbie has a narrow head, and a skinny body. So JB called her "Pinhead!"

To which Barbie replied "Brick Brains!"

This didn't help me at all with the laughing fit. And they continued laughing at each other, holding their heads and trying not to fall off the bed.

All this prompted an exploration for the correct term for each girl to use in describing the other girl's head. "Tootsie Pop," "Dum-Dum," and finally "Rosebud" were offered for Barbie, since she is basically a stick with a round thing on top.

The obvious ones for JB were offered as well -- "Pumpkin Head," "Concrete Skull," etc.

In the end, everyone had a good laugh because these two particular sisters get along extraordinarily well.

"Stupidhead" used to be the big bad name-calling name around here. For years it was the most condemning, horrible term you could use when referring to a sister.

Now, they just say "Genius." As in,

"Right, Genius, we're going skip church on Sunday morning and sleep in. While Daddy preaches."

Or "No, Genius, I want the phone so I can bang my head with it. Why do you THINK I want the phone?"

Or "No, Genius, I can't take a shower because YOU used all the hot water, thank YOU very much!"

I could go on and on. But I will say this: calling someone a genius is far better than calling them an overtly derogatory name. Even if you say it just dripping with sarcasm.

As in,

"No, Genius, I wasn't texting my friend, I was herding cats with the phone. You just keep all those ping pong balls underwater while I have me a Ham-a-lette."

xox

A Hill On Which I Will Die

I remember the days when I was in control of the mornings, and when everyone left the house, it was in a cute little outfit and matching shoes. My girls are right when they say little kids get all the cool stuff.

The way they dress themselves these days is not a hill on which I want to die. Because it would be a bloody massacre I would lose when they ganged up on me 4 to one.

This morning, I happened to be up as everyone left for school and work. Normally I'm sleeping -- but I was awakened at 5:30AM and couldn't go back to sleep.

But this was great, because I was able to sit at the kitchen table and just observe. Fascinating! Hunk O Man gives everything a little extra pat as he's making the girls' sandwiches for lunches. And he's so meticulous! Finally I can really see where Rose gets her aversion to having anything gooey or sticky on her hands.

I also took note of JB, who entered in a t-shirt and jeans. Followed by Bug, who entered in an oversized hoodie and jeans. Following them was Barbie, who wore a very cute sweater over t-shirt, tied loosely at the waist, over jeans and complete with cute scarf tied at the neck.

When I made mention of this, I was met with scorn from JB. "Who cares? Why would I want to look nice for school?" And then "Bug is wearing a sloppy t-shirt too." Bug stated that she was wearing a hoodie, duh, and she was wearing the exact same t-shirt JB had on under her hoodie.

Barbie walked in, and of course said "Whose t-shirt looks sloppy?"

JB answered with this: "I'd wear that kind of stuff if I had it in my closet."

This prompted a yes-you-do/no-I-don't exchange between Barbie and JB, and Barbie and I both assurred JB that if we went upstairs right then, we were sure we'd find something cute. JB just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

I think that means she thinks she won that one. Either that or she doesn't care.

Rose followed closely behind with a pink oversized hoodie and jeans. They all hustled and bustled around and I mostly sat quietly and watched. It was very entertaining. And this mostly because Barbie proved herself again the fashion plate. I'll be interested to see if the clothing changes at all tomorrow.

Later, Babydoll came down. Happy go lucky, homeschooled, comfy Babydoll in some kind of outfit comprised of several tanks and a pair of jeans.

Now here is a hill on which I will die:




We had a "fall apart" about this on the way to dropping her off for rehearsals last night. I quietly said, "I will say this for the last time, and I really mean it. Get your bangs out of your eyes."

She is in that 13-year-old weirdness phase we all have gone through. For me, it was always wearing a shirt or top that was almost as long as a dress. We all have some strange thing we think is cool, so we do it.

For Babydoll, it is the constant hair in the eyes.

Well, this is my last child, my last teenager, and a hill on which I am willing to die. There will be no more hair in the eyes. I will have my way despite the whining and crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth. There is one of her and one of me, and the odds are quite even.

There are bobby pins, headbands, and hair clips in this child's future, I assure you.

And in the future when she sees photographs of herself during these years, she will thank me for laying dead on the Hill Of No More Bangs In The Eyes.

Which I'm afraid I won't be able to say for all the other teenagers and their sloppy t-shirts on their way to school. Thank God for Barbie and her love of fashion. I may not be able to dress them in cute little matching outfits and shoes anymore, but I will wield my sword of No More Bangs in the Eyes with a vengeance.

xox

A Bit of a Quandry

You know, I go back and forth.

I just finished cleaning up the kitchen. This included gathering all the leftover dishes in the family room -- along with all the various pieces of clothing and single socks and paper and trash. Wrappers, junk mail, that sort of thing.

It also included putting the remains of a cake the size of Texas into a plastic container and then walking out to the trash thingy to throw the massive cardboard container away. The cake was leftover from a church thing on Sunday.

It took about 30-35 minutes total to clean all that up and load the dishwasher and wash the dishes that 1-came out of the dishwasher still with stuff on them because my girls can't understand that you should scrape off the "big chunks," and 2-because sometimes it's not worth trying to load everything into the dishwasher, and some things I just wash by hand, like wooden handled things and pots and pans.

ANYWAY -- it's really pretty easy for me to get that stuff done in the mornings. While I hate waking up to a kitchen that needs cleaning, I do have the time to do it. The house is my area -- my responsibility in the family is to keep it running smoothly and keep it relatively clean. Doing these things keeps me from being really lazy.

I use the term "relatively" very loosely when combined with the term "clean."

The girls have chores, and they are required to do them because they live here. When you live somewhere, you get to share in the upkeep of the place in which you live.

We only have 3 major chores -- those being "Kitchen," "Floors," and "Baths." Obviously the floors are just sweeping and mopping, and bath is making sure the bathrooms are clean.

In my mind, these are simple things. While it took me 35 minutes to clean up the kitchen this morning, it would likely take two people half that time. And they'd enjoy some company while doing it. Many hands make light work and all that.

The other things go pretty quickly too. We have hardwood floors in the entire downstairs, so the only thing you have to vacuum is the area run in the family room. I have Swiffers -- the vac and the mop -- for the rest. It goes pretty fast.

All this to say that really -- none of this stuff takes very long to do.

My children aren't little anymore. They are teenagers on their way out into the world. They've had chores all their lives. They know what it means to contribute to a family. They will soon learn that when they don't pick up after themselves, no one else will. They keep their rooms pretty clean. They are also very busy people with sports, jobs, friends, school.

I, on the other hand, am home all day. I have time to do the chores. And it's really my job ultimately anyway. I don't want to be treated like the maid, but I don't want to overburden everyone else either.

So here's the quandry: should we just throw the chores out the window and be done with all the haggling over who hasn't done theirs?

Or should we keep them in the name of making sure everyone knows that they have a role in the keeping up of our household?

I'm interested to know what you think.

Happy Birthday Babydoll

You could call her a surprise, a fluke, whatever -- her Daddy and I call her a blessing. She is one of the most wonderful people I know.

And today she's 13!

She has not stopped talking since she arrived. She is all about softness -- in her clothing, in her speech, in her manner. She is chatty and outgoing and generous and happy. She wakes up most mornings smiling.

She gets over trouble in a wink. She pesters her older sisters, but only because she is so desperate to be included. Often, she'll come into the room with me and just sit and read -- because she "wants to be where the people are."

On her first birthday --

And totally 13 -- today!




Happy Birthday, Babydoll!

Getting Older and A Little Story

It's a pain getting older.

I am reading a book recommended by my good friend Gayle: "What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Menopause." I stopped by the health food store yesterday and picked up Wild Yam Cream, a multivitamin chock full of good stuff that will help my adrenal glands, and some calcium with magnesium. Apparently when your adrenals are working well, it alleviates most other bothersome things -- like allergies, fatigue, etc.

Now I'm only 49 -- ONLY 49? Ten years ago I thought that was old. Now I feel very young. My doctor recently commented "age is only a chronological designation." Thank goodness for some reassurance that I'm truly, truly not getting old.

My body is just aging.

My Mama, who is 70 this year, just had an excellent health checkup because she is taking care of herself. She is really very healthy, despite a pacemaker and being a cancer survivor. My Mama is one of the most occupied -- not really busy, but always doing something -- people I know. She helps at her local church's preschool, teaches a bible study, and can look into my fridge at any given moment and produce a 3 course dinner. She even spent a week once going over and helping out a new mom -- a young girl from her church! Pretty amazing.

Just to tease her recently about her pacemaker (and because she is always doing something), I said this to her:

"Mom, you are one of the laziest people I know. Can't even get your heart to beat!"

We had a good laugh about that one. And she is a good example to me -- because now it's also me that's dealing with high cholesterol, blood pressure, and weight. I am no longer the cute young thing that has most of her life ahead of her.

That person would be any one of my daughters!

Speaking of which, one is having a birthday today. I am no longer the mother of anything except teenagers.

We tried for 3.5 years to get pregnant with the twins. And then we had not just one, but two! Barbie came on their heels just 15 months later (we didn't know if it would take another 3 years, so we started trying right away). Then, two years after her, came JB.

Now JB was the last baby. We agreed. Hunk O Man asked me if I wanted to permanently remedy the situation with additional surgery when I had my c-section to have JB. I declined; I had climbed on enough tables and had enough injections to make my body work right. I didn't want to purposely make it work "wrong."

So we, having had to work so hard to get pregnant the first time, opted for the stupid method. We just watched the calendar. Because when it takes all the work to get pregnant the first time, you can never be surprised.

Uh huh. Right.

I remember that unlike the other girls, I didn't tell Hunk O Man I was pregnant until I was almost 3 months+ along. We went on vacation and I kept waiting for the right moment -- which really just never came.

I was out to dinner with my girlfriends one night, and I asked "Have you ever done something really stupid that you don't know how to tell your husband about? Like wreck the car, or run up a bunch of bills on the credit card?"

My best friend Chari looked right at me and said "What have you done?"

I paused, gulped, and then spilled. And then I realised that I couldn't have my girlfriends knowing what Hunk O Man didn't know. So I told him when I got home. Crying, sad, apologising all the while.

And 3 weeks after she was born, Hunk O Man went and permanently took care of the situation. His philosophy was that minivans only hold 7 people on average. So that was that.

Her name wasn't decided until I was leaving the hospital and had to decide. And because she was a little surprise, her first name is the same as JB's middle name. Her middle name is the name we'd chosen if we ever had a boy.

God just sometimes has different plans than we do. And sometimes they completely delight you, like our Babydoll.

The Thursday Lineup

1. On the Migraine front: it's pretty well gone although it took until yesterday to be gone completely. A migraine is like a runaway train -- I had it on the tracks by Monday, but it was a struggle keeping it there until yesterday. Lots of ibuprofen and sudafed and caffeine. Surprising, a combination that usually works for me. Ah, the lack of a migraine . . .


2. On the Tennis Front: Rose won! She beat the conference champ in a nail-biting tiebreaker by just 2 points. We had conference matches all day yesterday. I watched until I had to leave for play practice -- with my first sunburn of the year! Rose will probably meet this same girl, Niechelle, in regionals next weekend. Hunk O Man came in and said "This was the best match IN THE WORLD!" Both are excellent players and regionals should be very interesting. Our local sports guy even interviewed the "3 Sisters of Tennis." We'll probably see that footage tonight. What is it with kids that they're not impressed about being on tv anymore? Ah, the video age . . .


3. On the Broken Camcorder Front: and we will have video footage of regionals because -- hooray! -- our camcorder is fixed! It broke late last year when Barbie knocked it off the tripod and it fell, damaging something inside. Turns out that thing that was damaged was going bad in all the cameras of that type, so all you had to do was send it in and get it fixed. I did that, and got it back yesterday -- too late for conference tennis, but in time for Babydoll's birthday tomorrow and regionals next weekend. Ah, free is always so good . . .


3. On the Play Practice for Peter Pan Front: All is going well and Babydoll is an excellent Wendy -- who got measured for her "flying" harness last night. We had choreography and we learned to waltz. Ah, dancing with an 8-year old, a thing not to be missed in one's lifetime . . .


4. On the Saving Money front -- I gave the dog a haircut last weekend -- he kind of looks as if I used a lawnmower to do it. Oh well! It saved us $35 for grooming, and I also cleaned out his ears and de-flea-ed him. He was very patient. Ah, good dog . . .

5. On the Project Front: I also got this done --





I'm not sure if I'm going to post it for sale on Etsy or just keep it for the upcoming craft show sponsored by our local Arts Council -- but I'm working on another, and have to get a wedding gown hemmed and a halloween costume done for a one-year old. Ah, the sewing I have to do . . .



6. On the PR Dishing Front: Ok, so here's the scoop -- Kenley's in -- with this strange and wonderful fairytale wedding gown -- Barbie's comment was "OMG, it's the swan dress reincarnated!" I think she meant the one that Bjork wore to the Oscars one year --







and Jerrell is out! The top three competing for the big prize are Kenley, LeAnn, and Korto. LeAnn has already won in my mind -- her pieces are just gorgeous.



And just so we're clear -- what goes around comes around. Jerrell and Korto, the two responsible for the most sniping at Kenley last week, were both on the chopping block. Ah, the justice that comes when you least expect it . . .

7. On the Wistfully Sad but Good Front: The big birthday bash is tomorrow -- my baby turns 13! As of tomorrow I will no longer have anything but teenagers for children -- Ah, how times flies. Sniff sniff. . .

PR Non-dish

I realise that I didn't post about Project Runway yesterday. The episode really made me a little sad.

The designers were all supposed to create an evening gown based on a photo they took at the New York Botanical Gardens.

(BTW, the NYBG's were gorgeous)

What actually happened, though, was that three of the designers -- namely Jerrell, LeAnn, and Korto, ganged up on Kenley and were very mean to her.

Kenley has had her moments. She is very young, and probably things come out of her mouth that shouldn't. She has some growing up to do. She is also very direct. Basically, it adds up like this: no tact+tells the truth+very opinionated+wants to win=upsets everybody else a lot of the time.

She may well be what I would term "Hoo! What a piece of work!" But that isn't really my point here.

My point would be that no matter what, you don't gang up on somebody like that. You don't leave her out to dry. It's a competition, folks, and you don't decide one talented person doesn't get to belong simply because you close ranks and keep her out.

That's exactly what they did. It was so unfair, and I felt terrible for her.

To add insult to injury, Korto started in on her about how she got what she deserved -- while they were sitting in the green room, waiting for a decision on who would be out. And this after Korto, Jerrell, and LeAnn had stood there on the runway and said that they would like to be in the running with each other. Every one of them stated clearly that they wanted Kenley to be out.

This wasn't based on her designs or her ability -- on which the competition is actually based. It was all about watching a bunch of kindergarten-minded bullies gang up on the odd kid.

Bad timing, Korto.

Shame on all of them. The judges left them all in, and said they'd all be on the chopping block once they created a collection.

In other words, everybody should PLAY NICE. I think they all needed a nap!

And if you've watched the runway shows from Fashion Week, which happened in September, you know that not only Kenley got to show her collection, but so did Joe and Suede. So the end result is the same for all of them -- they all got to have that international exposure that Fashion Week affords.

In the end, I think there should be some code of honour that says that you can't "throw your fellow designers under the bus." Just my opinion -- and this specifically because I was a little girl who was frequently the new kid at school, who never felt like she belonged (even in my own family), and whose creativity made her somewhat odd, honest, and definitely in need of a huge dose of tact! My greatest goal in life is to speak the truth IN LOVE. At 49, I'm still working on it.

So you can see why I can give Kenley the benefit of the doubt. She'll probably grow up to be a very nice person in the end, and a great designer to boot. Everybody deserves a chance, and especially when the others gang up on you and force you out. Good for her for standing her ground.

I should probably also mention that I'm really miffed today because the dishes aren't done and my sewing room is messy after somebody used it to do a project either last night or this morning.

Plus, Hunk O Man was telling me how to drive when I took him over to drop him off to drive the bus for the tennis team to their away match.

HOWEVER, in all honestly, this man could write a book on how to drive. He recently got his CDL, along with his motorcycle endorsement. I think he has almost everything you can get in the way of driving and licensing. He really does know his stuff.

I think I'll take the dog for a walk and refresh my attitude with some of the unbelievably gorgeous sunshine outside today. Man. If ever there was a reminder that God is good and most things are of no eternal significance, it's that sunshine!

xox