Praise To A Lady Who Knew How To Wait

"Sometimes God digs a well of joy with a spade of sorrow."

Those words are courtesy of my grandma who was a prime example regarding the power of finding peace in God's timing. I had never heard of that saying until I was reading through her bible after she passed away. Written in pencil near the back cover,  I instantly memorized those words.

I was emailing my mom earlier telling her about my day so far.
It went something like this,

Van is messing up again.
Spilled fingernail polish on my good black pants.
Used a black sharpie on the above mentioned pants.

Went to a job interview.

I honestly don't know what will come of that interview, but it did originate from a call out of the blue. There have been times before when I was sure I had something and I didn't; this time around, I'm not so sure. Who knows? Maybe that's a good thing.

I mean, really... what are the odds of car trouble on your way to an interview in which you are wearing sharpie-doctored pants? What I can tell you is that I seriously just wanted to crawl back into bed and not come out again until it was time to pick the kids up from school, but I went.

I put on my game face and did the best I could.
That's what Grandma would've done.

Ha! Not the black sharpie part

She would have whipped up a new pair pants on her sewing machine...

I'm doing the best I can, Grandma. I promise.
Just don't look at my dirty windows and blinds.

I Could Die Happy

After I dropped the kids off at school this morning (the first day!), I headed to our local history museum to begin volunteer work. I figured that as long as I'm not working, I might as well break up the week by doing something that I enjoy and may I say,

I absolutely loved it.

Granted it was three hours of sitting in an isolated office by myself behind a computer screen, but hey... that is right up my alley. The project assigned to me, at least for today, dealt with a massive postcard collection. As I scanned pictures and entered data, I read the backs of cards I could somewhat decipher. The earliest card I saw had a postmark of 1906 and several were stamped during the world war years. Because our area has a military post, I read more than one that went along the lines of Don't bother to write me back because I will have already shipped out or I sure hope I get to see you one more time before I leave. I'm telling you, it's that kind of stuff that floats my boat. As I was finishing up (just for today; this project will take months), I found one from the 1960s that went something like the white people here are horrible which made me chuckle a bit. I'm guessing that person had a particularly bad day.

What struck me, though, was the thought that we all leave something behind. Like the 1906 card... over a hundred years old! Just think, somebody took the time to drop a line (and this one ended with Be a good girl) and there it was, in my hands, today! I still sit here and shake my head at that. There are times when I feel so insignificant or so whatever, and something as simple as a very outdated postcard causes me to pause and remind myself that even the littlest things can mean something later on. I don't know if that does much for you, but it sure inspired my morning.

Gosh, I love old stuff.

History Rocks.

Cute & Cuddly & So Not Gonna Keep 'Em

Houston, we have a problem.

Two problems, to be exact.
Two little-bitty, cute, cuddly problems.

Remember the stray cat from a while back?

Just click here for a refresher.

Well, that cat decided to hang around, destroy a couple of our screens, and have babies. Just our luck. These little gals were found inside our shed yesterday with Simba purring happily beside them. She obviously kept them hid from us a while... probably worried about what the crazy red-headed lady would do. Yep, she's definitely a female through and through. She waited a few weeks for them to grow just enough to waddle when they walk and squeak when they meow. Do you know what this does to a crazy red-headed lady? It makes her look like the world's worst mom for even considering a call to the shelter. I'm out-numbered around here, both by cats and people.

But these furry little felines simply cannot stay. We've got two cats in the house, one of which goes insane when she sees another cat outside... not to mention that we would have to bear the expense of getting every one of these ladies "altered" so we wouldn't be going through this kitty-cat drama again in a few months. There's just no way around it. We still have to get the before-mentioned screens replaced. We can't afford any more cat food. No more cats in the house. Do you get where I'm coming from?

Anyone?

Sheesh. I've gone from the crazy cat lady to the mean cat lady.

I hate being that lady.

Getting What I Asked For

Today we register the youngest child for high school. Not sure how I feel about that (except this officially gives [husband] and I four years to plan our high-five, we're-going-to-Disneyland moment when she walks that platform to receive her diploma). Ha!



That was my facebook status on August 1st. My mom had remarked that I would be needing a box of tissues on that graduation day to which I replied that the middle and the youngest were already taking bets on whether or not I would cry the first day of school. As it turns out, I didn't even make it that far.

I took the daughter to the high school last night for her freshmen orientation. Her school is starting what they call Freshmen Academy this year which just basically means that freshmen are on a different bell schedule than the rest of the school. Taking into account this school has over 1600 students, I don't think that's a bad idea, so last night was just all about them.

We fought with her locker for a while which already had her monstrous-sized textbooks inside. Back on the first when the kids registered, they were given their books and lockers that day... again, not another bad idea. We knew this locker opened because the middle had already demonstrated it that particular day. Last night, though, we weren't having a lot of luck.

We weren't the only ones. Sheesh. I think the whole locker thing is half the battle. A man nearby was armed with a can of WD-40 to which we gladly accepted; I don't know that it did much good, though. We finally figured out that her best bet was to just get mad and give it a good yank. We even called the oldest brother and with his four years of locker expertise, he agreed.

You can bet I will praying about that darn locker.

I was hot and frustrated by that point while the girl of mine was cool and collected. After she was done messing with her locker, she said she would like to walk the halls to find all her classes. First hall, second hall... maybe up to a fifth hall (?) and then those halls break off to the right and left (think squares, the middle keeps repeating in my head)... all I did was follow her around like so many other moms in the building. It was somewhere in the middle of all that that I began to realize I really was not ready for this.

Each time she found a class, she would walk inside to introduce herself to the teacher. This was done while I waited in the hallway at her request. I was standing outside one particular door leaning my face against the cool concrete wall feeling like a complete dork (hey, can't think of a better word) and listening to the faint echoes of her voice from inside the room. It was at that point that the strangest thought occurred to me as tears welled up in my eyes,

What in the world have I done?

I raised this confident daughter (not alone, mind you) who is perfectly comfortable in her own skin. She didn't need her mom trailing behind and telling the teacher her strengths and weaknesses. She did all that on her own. Her brothers are just the same. Oh, I know they still need their mom for things like clean laundry, supper on the table, and the occasional listening ear, but for the most part, they are independent and determined and just how I always wished I could be.

This is why I had them making their own lunches in kindergarten * and learning to do dishes while standing on a step stool and teaching them to try to address problems (whether with a friend or with a teacher) on their own before they brought to me. They are turning into the young people adults I always wanted them to be and to tell you the truth, it scares me to death. I feel proud and helpless all at the same time.

The oldest is talking about spreading his wings and taking off on his own... just talking, Mom, he says. The middle is starting his own journey, following on the heels of his dad, in criminal justice... my boy, in law enforcement? And the youngest tells me just to wait in the hall... who is that girl?

She's mine.
They're all mine.
God help us all.



* and just so you don't think my kids went to kindergarten with candy and cupcakes and soda, we had the lunch-making rule: one PB & J sandwich, one piece of fruit, one snacky-type thing, and one juice box. I kept everything within their reach and it worked out very well, not to mention it gave me a little extra time to fix my own lunch (or at least no excuse not to). 

Twilight WHYlight

Wikipedia Photo

I like to read. A lot. Mostly I like to read historical non-fiction and political thrillers, but every now and then I need a break from having to think too much and revert to what I like to call fluff. This summer, that fluff consisted of the Twilight Series (excuse me, Twilight Saga) that was all the rage a few years back. Even though I finished the final book a few weeks ago, it's taken me some time to wrap my mind around it.

Although I still don't quite understand the draw that claimed millions of fans (I'm assuming the numbers here), I can finally understand the fascination with all the vampire paraphernalia that was marketed toward young girls (and their mothers). If you can get past the whole sinking your teeth into living flesh and an insatiable thirst for blood, the vampire lifestyle might not be a bad way to go.*  I mean, the end of the series presents the perfect picture of the perfect immortal family.** Of course, there is no clear-cut resolution as to whether or not a vampire actually has a soul and where that soul might reside when death does occur (by tearing the vampire apart and burning the body pieces, in case you were curious), but hey... to a young girl dreaming of true love and a happily ever after, a vampire with golden eyes, skin that sparkles, and will power made of steel (it does you no good if he kills you by mistake)... well, maybe love can be found in the craziest of places.

Yeah. That's a stretch, I know.

The short story is that I read the books because my daughter had watched a few of the movies a while back. We read the books together and talked about the content along the way. As much as I found the whole concept exasperating- as a mother, I do not appreciate any kind of love story that makes life appear not worth living if teenage romance is not realized- even so, I was hooked by the end of the first book. I wanted to see what would happen in the next one and the one after that. When it was all said and done, though, I would have rather spent that money on a two-week pedicure, a large hazelnut latte, and a triple chocolate brownie. Of course, the conversations I had with my girl because of the series... well, now that kinda makes it all worth it. Anything to reinforce a few key concepts of life and love:

God has that perfect someone for you,
And he will most likely have a beating heart.


*   Please tell me you recognize the sarcasm here.
** I'll take Jesus, His gift of eternal life, and an imperfect family.

Getting Lucky

Have I done something right when I wake up to an empty house on a Sunday? Or am I just plain lucky? The husband left in the pre-dawn hours to go to work, but I should have been peeking in on three kids sleeping in three beds. Not so. Apparently I slept a little late this morning because all I awoke to was three empty beds and not a note in sight. Good thing I know where they're at.

They're all at church. On their own accord. While their mother sits here shamelessly in her pajamas sipping coffee. So like I said... have I done something right, or am I just lucky?

Either way I will take it.
And get ready myself.

I don't want to push that luck.

We May Need That Ark

I was standing at the front door looking outside and thinking what will make some people in other parts of the country cringe. Everything is so green here. By this time of the year, the grass (if you can call it that) usually crunches under our feet and the trees look hopelessly withered. We don't water with sprinklers and typically, by now, I have even given up on flowers in my pots. Not so this year. The flowers are still blooming with no help from me. It almost looks like we have an actual lawn. Even the fountains have not required extra water from the hose.

All this thanks to rain.

Constant rain. Almost every-other-day rain. Rain that is flooding the streets and causing havoc on some homes. Rain that makes the outdoor working people have to stay inside. Rain that makes the indoor staying people want to actually go somewhere. Rain that lulls the cats into a stupefied slumber as they watch the water run off the roof.

Or maybe that is me.

I am fighting the urge to join my husband in a pre-noon nap. Not that I'm opposed to napping, but I'm one of those people that this kinda weather drives out of the house. I have an un-natural urge to go to the mall. Maybe eat a gyro. Possibly roam a used bookstore while sipping an overpriced coffee. This is when I wish I had some of those cute rainboots with a jacket and hat to match. I would so be one of those people.

Good grief, it is pouring. It's been like this about all summer. Sure, we've had the heat and the humidity and all other things southern, but I'm not finding much to complain about this year. Let it rain.

Meanwhile, I may have changed my mind.
A nap before lunch? There are worse things in life.

I Miss My Grandma

With yesterday being the birthday of the youngest, I spent a somewhat sappy afternoon watching home movies dating back to 1998. I don't know that the kids were all that into my spontaneous trip down memory lane, but it continued well into the night with the only break being a birthday supper at Cracker Barrel and a lengthy walk through Walmart. The clock was approaching the eleven o'clock hour when I began to pick up clues from the husband that it was time to call it a night. We went to bed, but the memories didn't stop as we both talked about how much our family has grown.

We were young, skinny, and looked good back then,
the husband remarked. What happened?

What happened? I joked. Those kids were what happened.

Good point, he said before he went to sleep.

While he softly (?) snored, I thought about what really bothered me regarding all those videos. It wasn't so much the passing of time... watching all that was a good reminder of how tired I always was with three kids ages five and under. And sure, I was a lot thinner then, but personally I think I look more healthy now with a little extra padding to the face and other places (hey, don't deny me that lie). I'll tell you, what bothered me the most was that nearly not enough camera time was given to a little old lady who made brief appearances every now and then, and I was almost always the one behind the camera.

Forget the baby! I kept screaming in my head yesterday.
Focus on Grandma.

Enough of the baby crawling already, I would think.
Isn't that Grandma on the couch?

You see, I didn't realize then what I know all too well now, and that realization forced to me acknowledge a cold, hard truth that has stayed hidden within the rusty files of my mind for almost five years now. It seems so silly to say it out loud because we all understand the cycle of life, but say it I must:

I really didn't think she would ever die.

Where Did I Put Those Candles?

Tomorrow our little girl turns fourteen.
Our baby. The youngest. The last one to come aboard.

I was thinking about her last night. It took exactly thirty-six minutes for her to make her entrance into this world. That should've been a sign. She's never been one to delay what needs to be done. She gets that from my grandma. She can cook, sew, and organize just like my mom. She reads constantly, is a good writer, and wants to be a social studies teacher. I suppose she gets that from me. She's got big plans and more ambition than she realizes. She's her dad all over again.

She is something else.

I was reminiscing out loud yesterday about those early days when we first brought her home and the middle visibly cringed. He knew what I was going to say before I ever said it. How protective her brothers were! The oldest, around four at the time, came to me and asked if the middle- who would have been two, was suppose to be in their baby sister's bed. In I went and there they both were... her, just weeks old and sound asleep and him, one of her big brothers, carefully keeping watch at the other end of the crib. Anywhere that baby went, they were sure to follow. That relationship may not be as obvious now, but I can assure you it's very much alive.

We knew she was going to be our last. I made it a point then to try my best not to rush the years. I hope I didn't complain too much about the bottles and diapers and toys scattered everywhere, but knowing me, I'm sure I did more often than not. Even now I look around and see stray charger cords and crumpled pop tart wrappers and random plastic lids missing from random plastic bottles. As long as there are kids in the house, they are going to make their presence known. My mom has reminded me not to rush this part either. She says once they move on, the home is never quite the same. I'm gonna trust her judgment on that one even as I look forward to evenings that don't combine the smell of tuna fish sandwiches and microwaved popcorn.

That is a smell I will not miss.
That and hair in the sink and snide remarks made through closed doors.

But the sight of the three of them together?
Now that's a sight that never gets old...
No matter how many birthdays we celebrate.

No wonder my mom likes those family pictures so much.

My Toilet Seat Has A Crack In It

I mean... technically that's true, but it really has no relevance to what's on my mind. I just think that any entry, or book for that matter, is all about the title. It's what grabs our attention. Some of my blog entries have really great content (says me), but very little indicators that it's been read a lot. Others contain meaningless dribble and have huge readership numbers (again by my standards).

Trust me. I'm bigger in my own head than in the virtual world.

At any rate, I think it all goes back to the title. What grabbed your attention to read this anyway? Maybe your own toilet seat has a crack in it and so you felt empathy for me. Maybe you wondered why I would advertise such personal information and thus your curiosity was peaked. Maybe you think I can't afford a new toilet seat and your response is one of pity. Whatever the reason, it got you here.

And now that you're here, let's think about titles.
If your life had a title, what would it say?

Pity Party Crashers
Heartbreak At The ATM
Only My Earrings Are The Same Size

Kinda makes me think of epitaphs... like how a title might be the opener for your life and the epitaph a closer. The tombstone of my parents (who are still living, by the way) reads "Color Me Gone." Granted, this was my dad's idea and also depicts an engraving of a race car, but it does speak volumes in a way. Now that I think about it, I think her side features the praying hands. Yes, I do see the humor in that.

I've been thinking a lot about my own life lately and if I am really living it to its fullest potential. It's no secret that I don't entirely agree with how things are working out, but does that give me any right to dismiss what the Lord has given me? And if I were to fully embrace what He has given me, would I suddenly find a joy that I didn't think was possible in something that was not my idea?

These are the things I think about...
When I'm not thinking about that toilet seat.

Does The Mom Definition Include The Word RELAX?

Well, we got the youngest registered for her first year of high school, the middle all set for his junior year, and the mother has so far remained in one piece. Going to a small high school like I did (maybe 60-something in a graduating class), the size of the kids' school still manages to freak me out a little. The lockers number up into the thousands and the hallways remind me of a coastal southern town... apparently everything is set up in squares. The middle assures the youngest that she'll figure it all out in a matter of days, and the youngest assures me that I am more nervous than she is.

She's probably got a point.

It does seem kind of weird not involving the oldest in the back-to-school plans. The other night he took the other two for a ride and ice cream and as the front door shut on a quiet house, the husband asked, "Is this what we have to look forward to? What in the world are we going to do with ourselves?" He went back to the computer and I went back to my book. I'm guessing we'll keep doing what we always do. About an hour after the kids left, a storm began to blow in and I began to pace faster than the wind. I sat on the front porch watching the pine trees sway and wondered where in the world those kids were. The rain fizzled out and in they came. The husband's words? "Now mama can relax."

No rest for the weary.

And yesterday a tiddly piece of news drifted my way. On the scale of bigger things happening in the world, this would be considered nothing more than a speck of dust in the midst of the Sahara, but in my little corner of the universe, it was as ear-splitting as the proverbial clanging cymbal. I was reminded that God does indeed have a plan and that His plan makes a whole lot more sense than mine. If I would have had my way a few months back, then somebody else would have missed out. It just made me think of how much easier things would be if we all sought to stay within His plan. Of course, who am I to talk... I have enough trouble keeping my own feet planted.

Yep. It's been quite the week and it's only Wednesday.

Good things are on the way. =)