When The Men Are Away,

the girls will play.

I now have lilac purple nails (hands and feet) complete with a flower sparkly sticker-thingy on a few lucky nails. To be honest, I feel like an Easter egg. Oh, well. I'll sport the look proudly while it lasts. My girl looks more age appropriate with her bright pink look and chic nail art. We were going for mud masks, too, but ran out of time. Neither one of us were crazy about being busted by the guys with green goop on our face.

We'll just wait till the next time those men of the house decide to sneak off to a movie (although I guess it's not technically sneaking if you know where they're at)... anyway, we'll once again break out the fun glasses, fix snacky stuff for supper, spread a sheet on the floor, pop in a cheesy movie, and not worry about somebody complaining how bad the nail polish remover smells (and maybe even invite a few more girls).

Lord knows we have enough polish and stickers to go around.

Darn That Patriotism!

While I sat this morning drinking coffee and crocheting (how old am I?) my oldest sat with me drinking a Powerade and talking about his future. It seems that the two most important men in his life have been talking to him about the Air Force. I don't know whether to smile or cry.

Smile because, after all, we are talking the Air Force here. That would be taking after me and not his Army dad (who, ironically, is one of the two men saying Go Air Force!). We have our own bit of friendly rivalry around this house.

Cry because, after all, we are talking about my firstborn here. The whole thing makes me think of my mom and dad who went through this with their own firstborn (my brother) and then again with their youngest (that would be me).

As I was washing dishes after he headed back outside, I was thinking That's what you get for instilling in these kids a love of country and hope for a future. So like I said, I'm not sure whether to smile or cry. Good thing he's still got a year of school left.

And good thing he's still in the thinking mode.
We all know how it is to have so many possibilities ahead.

The Senior Year has begun.

Shhhhhh! Hold The Phone...

It's actually nice outside. There's a slight breeze, the birds are chirping, the dog yelps occasionally, and the cat is scratching the heck out of the porch rail (which is amusing in itself considering the fact that the cat has no front claws). I've been sitting on the swing browsing through facebook and such and thinking about how easily people hand out advice.

Holy Moly. This blog has been interrupted by breakfast delivered to me by that wonderful girl of mine. Scrambled eggs, a Belgium waffle with some berry concoction on top (looks like raspberries and blueberries), and a fresh refill of the coffee cup. What does she want?

On second thought, who cares what she wants. She can have it. That was delicious! And add blackberries to her berry-on-the-waffle concoction. Awesome! She just may have very well won the coveted Best Child Ever Award (for the day, anyway). My, oh my. Thank you, Jesus, for whatever I did right with that one.

But back to the advice thing... I've read all kinds of, what I'm assuming is unsolicited, advice on every kind of topic under the sun: parenting newborns, disciplining toddlers, how to win court cases, and handling tense job situations. My thought is not so much on the people that hand out the advice, but just in wondering do people really take it? I mean, seriously, what went well in your custody case may not be the best idea for your facebook friend who lives a hundred miles away from you and the "best judge ever." And while I'm all for giving a toddler a strategically-placed swat, "laying into him" regardless of where you are at or "what people think" may not be all that wise. Oh, and one more thing (and this might be the thing that opens up a whole can of worms)... babies really do need a daddy in their life even if you have twenty-three "friends" trying to convince you otherwise. Yes, I understand there are situations and circumstances where this is not the best option for anyone, but if the daddy is there and he wants to be a daddy, let the man be a daddy!

There. Glad I got that off my chest.

Now lest you think I've got myself all worked up over a few random facebook posts, this goes back a little further than that. I have found myself knee-deep in a parenting discussion in my current sociology class (of which I have desire to work in the social field) regarding media influence on children. All I said was that sometimes we are too quick to play the blame game... that yes, there are certainly video games and music and movies that are abundant in negative, demeaning, and violent themes, but the last time I checked (and at least in my own house), it's the parents who pay the cable bill or the internet service or (heaven forbid!) buy the mature-rated video games that kids under eighteen aren't allowed to purchase. Was that such a bad observation?

Apparently for one guy, it was. Now every time I log on I have some nit-wit comment about how I know nothing and the government has corrupted my way of thinking and my kids are doomed to act out on the violent tendencies they have been indoctrinated with by a corrupt media that I have no control over. And I thought I was the conspiracy theorist around here. Anyway, this dude is about to wear me out. I refuse to believe that everything that is wrong with society is the media's fault, and I'm no big fan of any media outlet. Sales fuel all the crap stuff that is out there and who fuels the sales? People! That is a pretty simple formula, isn't it? Pull the plug on advertisers and change the flow of what goes over the airways.

Good grief. It's too pretty of a morning to be mumbling over this. Believe or not, that breeze is still blowing while the birds sing their songs. The cat is perched beside me, the dog is quiet, and my girl is basking in the glow of knowing that whatever she wanted, she's about to get (although truth be told, and for anyone who knows her, I'm pretty certain she's not after anything). Parenting is not easy, plain and simple, but it can be a lot of fun.

Just don't listen to the facebook psychologists.
If you really want advice, call your mom or grandma or dear ole aunt.
But don't get mad when we tell it like it is.
No dislike button allowed.

I Am A Mom Again

I had a few days away from the house.
A brief escape from laundry and cooking and playing referee.
All it took was a friend, a vehicle, and a place to stay.




Scenic Views

 

Carriage Rides





Endless Walking



Beautiful Homes



Eternal Bliss



Living History



Coastal Waterways



Majestic Wonders



Awesome Structures



I ate too much.

Laughed too much.

And most likely talked too much.

I wandered through antique shops.

Gazed at freakishly strange people.

And got spooked at a haunted house.

But as my girl said,

I was glad to get home.

And they were all glad I brought candy.

There's no place like home.



Diet Is A Dirty Word

The house has been cleaned thanks to a girl who is hoping for some mall spending money and a brief moment of guilt that found me relaxing in the a/c with a new book while the husband is out in this ridiculous heat. As a result, the counters are spotless, the floors shine, all furballs have been vacuumed, and stray papers have been tossed. That all should last until about six o'clock tonight, or until the oldest finishes nuking his mac-n-cheese.

After tonight I will once again be a married woman. My wedding rings have been hidden away at the jewelers awaiting a re-sizing that has been a few years in the making. A couple of weeks ago, my husband got tired of seeing me without a wedding band and promptly hauled me (and the rings) to the jewelry store. In the past eighteen-plus years, my ring size has increased and it got to the point where I could no longer just blame it on periodic swollen fingers. My ring finger was measured (no wonder they didn't fit anymore), a new diamond selected (the husband's idea, I promise), and the bill was paid (while he looked the other way).

Of course, that was the same week the same husband lost his job.
Timing is everything, isn't it?
At least we have a ring to pawn if we need to.

Ha! Like that would ever happen. Other things would go first. I'm thinking every electronic gadget for starters (sorry kids), but like I tell the family, let's not dwell on such things now. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. At any rate, tonight is the night we pick up the rings. I told him he would have to put them on my finger and mean it this time (another joke). The original plan was to have a nice dinner out. Now we're thinking more along the lines of a shared gyro and fries at the food court in the mall. It's all about priorities.

House payment.
Electric bill.
Then maybe we can eat.

Speaking of eating, what is about a clean house that makes one kid want to cook while another eats chips in the living room? I would say something, but I'm thinking of coffee and cake and my cozy spot on the couch. Yeah. That's the ticket. Coffee with rich creamer and a piece of butter cake slathered with chocolate frosting while thinking about a set of rings that no longer fit. Hey, at least I see things for how they are: I'm not afraid of the truth; I'm just slow to react to it sometimes.

I won't think about that today.
I'll think about that tomorrow.
Wasn't I suppose to be starting a spin class sometime?

Now the house no longer smells lemony fresh. There's a strange, toxic mixture of the beforementioned mac-n-cheese and doritos now combined with the distinct odor of ramen noodles. Can somebody please crank up the Glade Plug-Ins? When does school start? Drat these kids who always want to eat.

Wait a minute...

I think I was going for a piece of cake.

Dear Mom,

Just thought I would say (for all the world to see) that I sure am missing you. I think it's time for you to visit again. Or for me to come there. Wonder how the kids would feel about another 28-hour round trip? Blast this distance and the price of gas. Somebody needs to invest in a plane and a pilot.

We did a lot of running around today without really accomplishing anything. Sometimes shopping just doesn't do the trick, does it? I ended up not buying anything except five Route 44's during Sonic's Happy Hour. I was going to order the regular mediums, but then I was reminded Pa let us get the big ones. Haha.

My flowers are looking pretty wilted in this heat and I was too lazy to water anything this evening. I guess I figure there's always tomorrow morning. I'm still working on learning to crochet and I keep looking at all the afghans Grandma made. Sure wish I had paid more attention to how she did things.

I could go on, but I suppose I would just be rambling to fill up space. I told everyone I was going to bed so I could have some moments of quiet. Everybody's doing their own thing anyway. You know how that is. I'm back to regular loads of laundry and frequent trips to the grocery store. No rest for the weary.

So, so glad that you're my mom.
TTYL.
(happy face)

Question For Bloggers

Any idea how particular words in my posts are getting highlighted (not by me) and linked (not by me) to some random ad called Living Play Entertainment? And more importantly, how do I stop it?

Please
And
Thank You,

Angela

Angry Music

I'm a country girl at heart, but I tend to listen to whatever sounds good and suits my mood. Right now the middle is listening to angry music. And I do mean, ANGRY music. Thankfully, I think it was getting on his nerves, too, because he just changed it to less angry music. Little miracles everyday.

The morning has been spent searching for cheaper insurance rates, cheaper internet service, cheaper everything. I have come to the conclusion, however, that we are pretty much at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to cheap anything. Going any lower would completely eliminate whatever it was I'm trying to save money on. At least I tried.

Summer is slowly winding down as the kids face their last few weeks of freedom. I still can't get over how early school starts anymore. Some schools in our area head back Aug. 3, others Aug. 8. Our three have until the Aug. 15. Before that we have registrations (and none on the same day, of course), fees to pay, and supplies to buy. It's a racket, I tell you.

racket: noun, an organized legal and yet totally unfair activity, such as ridiculously long supply lists or the extortion of money from struggling families by threat of not letting your kids enroll in school.

Okay. So I tweaked the definition a little. What can I say? It's how I feel. My own supply lists were always kept to the bare minimum. Paper. Folders. Pens. Pencils. Kleenex. The rest is just personal expression. We've got lists now that require coordinated folders and tabs and highlighters and paper towels and clorox wipes and copy paper. I have to admit that for the first week or so, I completely ignore much of the list to see what we can get by with not getting.

Yes,  I've turned into one of those parents.
And yes, I know teachers buy alot (if not all) of their own supplies.
But I've taught for free and next-to-nothing and have done the same thing.
Just like in life, we make do with what we have.

Anyhoo, I've completely strayed away from the original topic of angry music. The house is quiet now except for the clicking of three separate people on three separate computers (myself included). Muffled gunfire escapes from a closed bedroom door where the latest invasion of aliens are meeting their demise. The afternoon is winding down and the time for afternoon coffee is fast approaching.

Today while making my bed, I thought Why do I want a job anyway?
I have my housework, my schoolwork, my sleepy cat.
And then I remember: school supplies, registration fees, utility bills.
Insurance, internet, phone, groceries, teenagers.

Wonder if I can spare a buck for a lottery ticket?

All I Want For Christmas Is A Gun In My Purse...

but we'll get to that in a minute (I'm all about a catchy title).

Another Monday has rolled around. As I did a quick look-through of my local news station's website, a couple of headlines caught my eye. First, there was an active poll asking the following question: Should parents of obese children lose custody? Seriously? I clicked no and found that 74% of survey responders agreed with me. I was left thinking about the surprisingly high number (at least to me) that checked yes. Losing custody based on weight? Sure, nobody ever got hurt from a little parenting advice, but good grief.

(And at this point, I have written and deleted and re-written and deleted a paragraph or two on the subject. I think I will move on).

The second story that made me glance twice was that our local Walmart was held up at gunpoint on Friday night around 9:30 pm. The thugs (two of 'em) used the garden center check-out and got away with "an undisclosed amount of money." Great. That's the check-out I like to use... easy in, easy out. I'm sure they'll be changing things now. And the fact that my first reaction is one of inconvenience and not of fear testifies to how ridiculously common this whole stick 'em up! scenario is being played out. I'm thinking our Christmas gifts this year may consist of conceal-and-carry classes. How's that for a sign of the times?

Other than the local drama playing out while we were snug in our own four walls, not much else is new (at least that I can see anyway). As we were walking to our car yesterday after church, I said to my husband, "Now that's the kind of service that makes me think I can make it through another week." He hugged me in agreement. I was talking to the middle later about how everything the preacher said seemed directed at our very situation. He shared with me his own similar experiences. We both agreed that God does indeed care. I can't wait for church to roll around again (and it's been a very long time since I felt that way). His timing is everything.

Unemployment? Bills? Despair?
That does seem to be the theme of our life for now.
But it doesn't have to define our life.

I told you I was a slow learner.

Virtual Death

I spent my wee morning hours contemplating virtual suicide. You know, the kind where you completely walk away from the virtual world. No more facebook. Business email only. End of the blog era. I wondered if anyone would notice and I wondered if I would even care. Then, in the midst of the mental note that I was writing to leave behind, my husband walked in the bedroom bearing gifts of eggs, toast, coffee, and a smile. My first thought as he left me with my treasures and walked back out the door?

I need to update my facebook status.
Apparently my virtual demise would not have lasted for long.
Guess I'll be sticking around for a while.

I suffered through yet another job rejection yesterday. I know that some of you might be thinking, What is wrong with this girl that she can't seem to land a job? Trust me, I've thought the same thing. I've had people look over my resume. I'm all about constructive criticism. I think the problem is just that I am one of many in a flooded unemployment state. The latest no thank you reply cited the fact that I don't have enough framed certificates on my ego wall; in other words, I lack the required education. Looks like I have entered the realm where experience counts for nothing. My response was probably a bit immature, but it made me feel better nonetheless. I simply presented my opinion regarding the reason for being passed by and wished them well. I am tired of nodding my head politely and walking away.

Anyway, yesterday's events were the reason, I'm sure, for my lousy mood and the subsequent breakfast-in-bed episode this morning. I gotta admit, it's very hard to lay around and feel sorry for yourself when you've got a husband who is so darn nice. I ate his breakfast, took a shower, and greeted the kids (whom he also rolled out of bed early on a Saturday morning). I'm starting to think their day is not as great as mine. In fact, I know it's not. Their computer is acting up, we're out of toilet bowl cleaner, someone can't find their swimming shorts, and I'm suppose to have all the answers. Why, yes. It does make me laugh to myself. It's so nice to have them all home.

If I could just stay away from those job boards, I would probably be all right.
Maybe I should spend the energy instead on writing a book.
No framed diplomas needed for that.

Any suggestions?

What Happened To Fabio?

I like to read. That's no secret. My favorites are spy novels, anything to do with government intrigue, and Christian fiction that expands my thinking. I despise what I consider fluff: predictable nonsense with sappy plots and fairy tale characters (i.e. romance novels). Every now and then, though, my brain gets tired of thinking and I'm ready for some easy reading I can knock out in a day and pretty much lose myself in. My most recent easy-reading, beach-type book was found for fifty cents at a local thrift shop. The cover featured an ice-cream cone against a soothing lime green background and the back cover promised a story of a forty-something mother coming to terms with her own mother moving in while her teenage daughter was sneaking out the bedroom window on a nightly basis.

And this by no means describes my current position in life.
No need to draw unnecessary conclusions.
Although my mom can move in anytime she wants to.

At any rate, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I finished it in a couple of days (bedtime reading) and with the exception of a few, brief sappy lovesick moments, the characters were quite believable. The ending was not predictable and when I finally turned the last page, I let out a heavy sigh. I went straight to my local library to find some more by the same author (for future easy-reading days) and was surprised to not find any. I didn't take to the time to do a computer search because I had plenty of other stuff to read at home anyway. Later that night, though, I did reach under the bed (where most things on my side end up) to see if I had the author's name right. That's when I noticed the tiny words on the back cover.

Harlequin.
As in Harlequin Romance.
Like a love story.

Maybe you have to be in my head to truly understand this, but I had to laugh to myself. I read a romance novel? And liked it? Horror of all horrors. I looked at the front cover with the ice-cream cone and laughed again. I swear there was no reference to ice-cream anywhere in the book. What happened to the half-naked man with the flowing hair embracing the equally half-naked woman with the equally flowing hair that usually represents the stereotypical romance book? I re-read the back. Love was not mentioned once. Life, yes. Nervous breakdown, yes. Career choices, yes. Not one iota of an inkling of romance. Okay, so there were a few romantic scenes involved, but nothing over the top. Several innuendos? Yep. It still makes me laugh. I got suckered into reading the one thing I always turn my nose up at, and a Harlequin at that.

What the heck.
I already downloaded another one on my nook.
If you can't beat 'em...

You might as well enjoy the love scenes.

Finding The Happy

If I have to put a For Sale sign in our front yard at this point, I think I might scream. Three years ago, I would have been jumping with excitement. Two years ago, I would have been on my knees thanking the Lord. Even one year ago, I would have been happily ignoring the protests of my kids and been on the street myself handing out flyers. But now? Just the thought of it gives me an instant headache.

And no offense to my family and friends back home either. I'm simply not up to going through all that again. The thought of packing makes me cringe. The sheer image of a moving truck with its bottomless gas tank makes me cry. The idea of starting over again somewhere else makes me want to run away (and we all know that includes a rental bike shop on the Atlantic coast). There just seems to be nowhere to hide.

This unemployment thing sucks. I hate the uncertainty of it all. Yes, we're fine for now, but I'm a person who likes to plan ahead. I need to plan ahead and know that everything will work out just fine. Funny how that has never been as important to the Lord as it is to me. I suppose it's like we tell our own kids: You don't need to worry about it. Daddy has it all under control. Easily spoken words, huh?

The oldest is on his own job search and I'm glad to see him doing it. Not because I expect him to help us out (although the boy would give us his last dime if we asked for it), but because I know he'll need his own stash to do things that every seventeen-year old boy wants to do... drive his truck, take his girlfriend out to dinner, buy his mom a Starbucks. He is so happy most of the time. I want him to stay that way.

I knew today's mood swing was coming. When I sat down to pay a few more bills to take us (almost) through to the end of the month, the dread started gnawing away at me and I feel silly for going down this road. My husband has more than taken care of us. Like he told his former employer when they gave him the pink slip, I may not be good with math, but I am good with money. He does plan ahead.

It's just that ole not knowing creeping in. I'm back to checking job boards a gazillion times a day and I know better than to be doing that. A person can really only do so much. Attitude is everything, I suppose. That and prayer. I have the mind of Christ and hold the thoughts, feelings, and purposes of His heart (1 Cor. 2:16). I am a believer and not a doubter. And chocolate helps, too.

Are things all that bad? Not really. The mind can be a powerful ally, though, or our own worst enemy. The husband is out doing all he can, the boy has spent at least thirty minutes on a Subway application, and it's time I close down the pity party. There's too many good things going on my life to be consumed by the negative (you did catch the new baby post yesterday, right?). You can't go wrong with that.

Besides, if I take any more Excedrin, I might be considered an addict.

God Himself has said,

I will never leave you without support or forsake you or let you down.

I will not, I will not, I will not (yes, this really is repeated THREE times)

in any degree leave you helpless or relax my hold on you... assuredly not!

Hebrews 13:5, Amplified

Time To Bake Those Cookies

Because great-niece number two has arrived.
I sure hope my brother has been saving for Christmas.
Two granddaughters equal lots of girly stuff to buy.
Or in his case, lots of pink tool sets and coveralls.

The news came too late in the evening to bake what is fast becoming my traditional baby cookies. I kinda like the idea myself. Of course, I'm for any idea that includes chocolate and baked goods. Tomorrow will serve the same purpose. Cookies are definitely on the agenda.

I think of my own baby girl and the day she joined us. I was wearing a red t-shirt and maternity overalls... my outfit of choice for most days of the week. That girl of mine arrived exactly thirty-six minutes after the first contraction. Maybe that explains why she's always in a hurry now.

All of my kids were in a hurry, as a matter of fact. I never had to endure long labors or horror stories. Three and a half hours, two hours and forty-four minutes, and the thirty-six minute girl. I remember the nurse who helped me with her telling me that if all of her labors were that easy, she would have had ten kids.

I laughed then. Not so much now. There are times when both my husband and myself wished we would have had more children, but thankfully that feeling has faded as time goes by and the kids we have grow. No sense re-living diapers and bottles when we're in the middle of messy rooms and too much soda.

Besides, now we get to enjoy all the joys of a baby without actually having to take them home. Like I've said before, we're watching a whole new generation emerge into an ever-changing world. And like I said yesterday, Grandma's prayer list just got one name longer. Her name is Payton.

And so tomorrow I will bake cookies in honor of Payton Faith. My own kids will devour them while I rush to stash a few behind for my husband's late night snack. We'll watch for pictures and count the days until we can see and hold her for ourselves. Christmas once again looks a little brighter.

Congratulations, Grandpa.
You better kick in some overtime.
And clear out more space in the garage.
Another race car driver has just been born.

Ignoring September

The first day of what I call back to normal is coming to a close as the sun hides behind a rather gray-looking cloud. The oldest rocks his way through whatever game or techno news that's keeping his attention locked on his laptop; the middle is jamming (softly) to his favorite tunes while he bounces back and forth between facebook and his game of choice; and the youngest is behind a closed bedroom door deep in a book that she just started last night. Supper was enjoyed and appreciated and totally consumed by a full table and dishes have been washed, dried, and put away (and not by me!). The husband is on the lawn mower, the dryer is fluffing some towels, and coffee is next on my list. Yep. Things are pretty much back to normal.

Except things are far from normal. We had yet another job loss in our family last week and considering the fact that my husband has been the one with the job... well, it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. God is good, though. A strange peace has pretty much enveloped us since last Wednesday with only a few scattered moments of panic sprinkled in-between. Bills are paid, the cupboards are full, and work has been provided for now. It's anybody's guess what the next few months will bring. I'm predicting September will be an interesting month, but I've been off track before. One thing is for certain, the Lord has a way of always reminding me that's He's the one in charge.

Life goes on. My youngest niece is expecting her first baby to make her arrival within the next twenty-four hours. That will make grandbaby number two for my brother and most likely a lifelong friend for Baby Lily, not to mention a good reason for me to bake cookies tomorrow. It's a strange thing to watch a family grow and transform and begin an entirely new generation. I remember holding these girls when they were babies... the fact that they are now the ones having babies is just crazy. No wonder my grandma's prayer list was so long. Each time a baby was born she would have to add a name to her nightly prayer. Trust me. I witnessed it once before. No one was left out.

Yep. Life goes on. I hear the mower out front trying to beat the rain. My youngest just breezed out her of her room and gave me a passing grin complete with a wrinkled nose. The middle's music just got a little bit louder and the oldest just shot me a smile while plugging in his headphones. I don't know what September might bring, but for now all is right with the world. It's time to go fold the towels and make that cup of coffee.

Tomorrow will be here soon enough.

Bringing Home The Kids

Well, our four-week journey with no kids in the house is about to come to an end. In just a few short hours, we'll hit the road to bring three teenagers and all their shoes and cords and gadgets home. I'll actually have to plan a trip to the grocery store. While their dad and I can survive on Coca-Cola and cereal and milk and eating out often, our budget will once again be strained at the thought of feeding three bottomless pits. And that's not an insult, young people. It's just a fact. You eat alot.

Today also marks the beginning of an experiment of sort for the husband and myself. At his suggestion, we're going to take forty days and give up what we would call indulgences and focus on our relationship with the Lord. We've actually done this before (although I caved around Day 30 or so). I don't know that what you give up is as important as recognizing that sometimes we can become a little too carried away or obsessive over things in our life. Anyway, we actually prayed together last night before we went to bed and I gotta tell you, that was a powerful thing. Nothing earth-shattering. Just quick and to the point. It's a start.

As for now, I've got some dishes to finish and a husband to wake up. I'm looking forward to seeing my mom and cousin tonight even if it's only for a short time. Remember? I've said it before. Being away from the people you love makes you appreciate any time you're given with them. Today's road trip will either fly by with anticipation or be agonizing long. Either way, as my daughter would say, I get the first hug from Granny.

Oh, and pray for the cat.
His days of peace are about to be over.

Dear Drama,

I went to bed thinking about you last night and woke up with you still on my mind. My coffee doesn't taste good because you make my stomach sick and my body feels achy from all the agony you bring and my eyes burn from the tears you cause. Why, oh why must you camp out in my backyard?

I mean, I knew you well enough when I was in junior high. You even hung around for most of my high school years (I think you must have hooked up with my old boyfriend or something). Other than that, you pretty much took the hint and left me alone. It was a good run.

Oh, I knew to expect you when my own kids got older. I think you must lurk around every freshman locker and sit at every seventh grade girls' table in the cafeteria. That's part of teaching them to grow up and conquer you and telling you to hit the road.

But seriously. Why are you here? For the last few weeks you've been constantly at my front door. I try to keep you out. I have no problem in not answering the door. I can ignore you until Jesus comes back. The trouble (and your lucky break) is that my husband is too nice. He just hates to see people fight.

He'll get tired of you, though. One day he is going to wake up and decide that you are simply not worth it. There is no amount of Pepto in the world that can sooth the woes you bring. The only thing you understand is a good swift kick in the pants. You'll get yours.

Until then, I will be patient. I'll smile and hold my tongue and speak words of encouragement and chew antacids as needed. The last thing I need is for you to invite your friends over. One of us would definitely have to go then and a word to the wise, it won't be me.

You see, my kids are about to come home. They'll have just a short month before school starts and homework begins and their own battles kick off. I'll not have you burdening them with your adult version of idiot people. They get enough of that in our public school system.

Ahhhh. I feel better already. Maybe not coffee ready, but definitely ready to face what you're gonna dish out today. We're here for a reason. Sooner or later, it'll all come out. Bear with me and wait a little longer, and I will show you, for I have something still to say on God's behalf  (Job 36:2).

And one more thing, don't let the back door hit you on the way out. Or on second thought, please do. Be sure to exit by that dog of ours with the big teeth and sharp nails. She loves to tear up stuff. I have just volunteered you. I think even my husband would agree with me on this one. You won't be around for a holiday dinner.

With no love or best wishes,
Angela




        

Heavy Burdens And Burnt Cheese

As the husband heads off to work a job he wishes he had finished long ago, I think about the man he is. He really does just want everyone to get along. I guess you could say he's the peacemaker (and no, kids, this does not refer to the same peacemaker you may be thinking of)... anyway, the man must feel like he's in a losing battle most of the time. Needless to say, Parents, be careful of what you burden your children with when they are young. Those same burdens only multiply when they became adults if issues are never dealt with.

Fathers, do not provoke or irritate or fret your children

 [do not be hard on them or harass them],

 lest they become discouraged and sullen

 and morose and feel inferior and frustrated.

 [Do not break their spirit.]

Colossians 3:21, Amplified

I could practically launch into a three-hour sermon on that one and I don't even preach. Come to think of it, the last time anyone let me hold a microphone was a little over two years ago. Now that was a good one. A group of about thirty teenagers, a sprinkling of adults, my oldest son hearing things come from his mother's mouth that must have shocked him. Good thing I had prepared him the night before. I think one of the worst things we can do (or should I keep this singular as in the worst thing I can do?)... one of the worst things for a kid, I think,  is to grow up thinking their parents did no wrong and spent their entire young life polishing the candlesticks on the church altar, if you get my drift. I have no problem acknowledging the error of my ways to my children when it's in God's timing and for His glory. Sin does have consequences. They need to hear that.

Oooh, I love talking with my kids (by the way, the key word in that statement is with... I try to talk with them, not at them). Sure, sometimes we have our awkward moments, but when they look me in the eye and say Thanks and I'm glad I'm not the only one.... well, that's when I know that I'm teaching them more than just how to separate their laundry or clean a pan with burnt cheese.

And with that, I just experienced a subtle reminder that I am and always will be a teacher. I think He just smiled. He's probably thinking it's about time. It's always good when your kids learn something you've known all along.

The Old Guy Had It Right

If I had money to spare and could buy a few things at Hobby Lobby to hang on my living room wall, the choice would be easy: two separate, beautifully framed copies of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Right above where I am sitting at this very moment is blank wall space that has been reserved for such items...  if I ever have the funds to spare or somebody decides to contribute to the cause. I'd also like to have a framed copy of the South Carolina Ordinance of Secession to hang on my left and a copy of an 1806 A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language to adorn my bookshelf.

Yep. Some women dream of handbags and shoes and tropical vacations.
I'm good with copies of originals of things that have historical significance.
No wonder my husband loves me the way he does.

To mark the occasion of the our country's independence, I've spent the better part of the morning re-reading Common Sense by Thomas Paine. He's a name that even late elementary students should recognize, but I doubt few have taken the time to read his work. Yeah, he's got that old English style way of talking and the spelling is definitely old school, but his words ring just as true today as they did when this particular essay was published in January 1776. I thought of including some of my favorite lines (and even did have most of them typed out)... suffice it to say that he was all about God being the king of America, watching out for leaders who might swiftly step in and bully their way to to the top by manipulating the people, and losing the political titles that keep us from referring to one another as "a good citizen; an open and resolute friend; and a virtuous supporter of the rights of mankind."

Like I said, relevant information and a good reminder for today, no matter how old of a guy he may seem. And with that, I'm gonna close up my books and turn on the radio. I've got a cake to bake, a cat to feed, and our own little celebration to get to later today.

Happy Independence Day.

A Disclaimer May Be Necessary: Blame The Coffee If It Helps

If my life were really a book, I think I would have closed it up by now. You can only repeat the same thing so many times before it becomes so predictable that it makes even me weary. The things maybe worth mentioning I don't mention because I've got too many people who really know me and love me that read this. (Okay, technically like maybe TWO people that I know of for sure family-wise, but you get the idea). No need upsetting the fans.

And that was a joke.
A lame one maybe, but I'm running on fumes here.

Even if I wanted to put into words what is in my heart right now, I don't think I could. Defeat is a hard emotion to express. Needless to say, I had one of the worst experiences of my adult life last night and all I could see was a flashback to a naive nineteen-year old girl who didn't know how to just walk away. I still don't know how to do that. I may never learn. My biggest problem has always been digging my nails in too tight and holding on for dear life. I seriously don't know how to let go, and somehow I always end up being the one hurt.

Don't they make a pill for this? Something I could just take to muffle the noise? I don't want to shut down; I just want to step back. I have no problem with being part of the background, but for some reason, I'm always trying to make it to center stage. How's that for making sense? Didn't Paul say something like that? Something along the lines of I know what to do and what I should do but I end up doing everything opposite? I don't know if it's pride or stubborness or just plain bad timing. What I do know is that my stomach feels sick and my eyes won't stop watering and this coffee is too darn weak.

I'm gonna push my re-start button today if I can find it. Hopefully it's still in operating order. One thing is for sure... if you have learned anything about me, my house will be spotless by the end of the day. I may not have a pill to take, but I've got enough furniture polish to see me through yet another crisis. We all have our ways to cope. Mine just happens to include a vacuum and about twenty dust rags.

And coffee.
I definitely need a better cup of coffee.

 

 

For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh.

 I can will what is right,  but I cannot perform it.

[I have the intention and urge to do what is right, but no power to carry it out.] 

 

For I fail to practice the good deeds I desire to do,

 but the evil deeds that I do not desire to do are what I am [ever] doing.

 

Romans 7: 18-19, Amplified