Many thanks from a grateful heart

Before my last post and since, I have been beating myself up. The "big mistake" has truly been eating at me, and while I have allowed myself a few laughs over the whole situation, I would be lying if I didn't admit that the whole thing made me pretty sick. If I were a house elf, I would have been whacking myself over the head with a cast iron skillet. Thankfully I'm not, but still a little bruised on the inside. It was a lesson learned. Research before you share. I knew that.
That being said, as I was reviewing the comments for the Zucchzilla post (which you should really check out and join in on), I noticed a comment from my last post as well. It was left anonymously, even though I'm pretty sure it was my Dad, who would know just how much I was beating myself up over the whole situation. The comment said that there was a German poet by the name of Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe, and that I should check to see if it was possible if it was something he had written. With a flutter in my heart, I once again entered the name into the search bar and whuala ( I don't think that's really how you spell that but whowhell), there it was, among quite a few other lovely things. And so I can finally write what I had initially set out to in the first place...
Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe, the German poet once said, "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to drawback, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now."
So thank you "anonymous", for freeing me from my mistake, I have learned the lessons well, I will put the frying pan away for good, put the quote back in it's place on the fridge, and rest peacefully.

Big mistake (Not covered under the 10 mistakes umbrella)

Do you remember my "10 mistakes" post? Well, I recently made a mistake of huge proportions that I didn't mean to make and am hoping that it doesn't lead anyone to believe that I am a Nazi sympathizer. No, seriously.

Now, we've already covered that fact that we all make mistakes. Big mistakes, small mistake, no matter the size we all make them. While I try my best cover myself from the BIG mistakes, like making sure that I lock the car doors and the gate so that littlest doesn't escape with my keys and try to drive off without my knowing, you know safety first, I sometimes make little mistakes like say, forgetting to put laundry detergent in the washer. But this, my friends is a big mistake, the embarrassing kind, worse than the t.p. dragging behind the shoe and more like accidentally swinging an anvil in a crowded room, although I'm not sure how you would accidentally do that, but anyway...
I must start by saying that this big oops was not necessarily by my doing anything, but rather my trusting an outside source and then doing something, actually a number of things, with the information provided by the unknown source.
Earlier his year I had the occasion to write a number of thank you notes. I went off to the scrapbooking aisle of my dreaded local superstore, picked up a package of blank note cards and a little pad of quotes. You may know just the kind I mean, various quotes, some spoken by truly inspirational people like Mother Teresa, and others were just a word like BELIEVE, all were printed on vellum in various colors and fonts. Home I went to make my cards. I used happily colored papers and the vellum quotes, wrote my notes of thanks , stamped and sent them off.
One of my favorites from this stack was this...
"Whatever you can do

or dream you can,

Begin it;

Boldness had genius,

power and magic in it."

Lovely sentiment, I thought. To me it meant, go for the gusto, follow your dreams, be BOLD. I used this quote in various places. I'm sure that I put it on at least a couple of those thank yous, added it to my favorite quotes of Facebook, and I'm pretty sure that I used it here in one of my earlier posts. Of course I always gave "Props" to the author, Goeth, having no idea who this Goeth was..
And then, just the other day, as I was writing a birthday letter to my Dad and Step Mom, it made sense to add a little something extra. I looked and looked for the right thing to add at the end. I searched here and there. Finally, I settled on that same trusted saying. Rather than just write it and credit the man or woman who said it, I decided to write something more. My hope was to write something like,"Renowned poet, Frederick Van Goeth once said," or," French impressionist Margaret Meredeth Goeth, upon taking her last breath, gave this advice to her children...". Something that had color, flair. And so to Wikipedia I went. "G-O-E-T-H", I typed and what popped up made my stomach hit the floor. I read the information and then noticed that the name was spelled differently, "Whew" I thought to myself ,"Dogged that one". I retyped the name and when the same page came up again I decided to search someplace else, rather than trust my Wiki, as I had my lovely stack of quotations. NO SUCH LUCK.
Unfortunately, my dear friends, it seems that Goeth, is indeed...
Amon Leopold Goth (Two dots over the "O" that I can't find on the keyboard I guess represent the "E") (11 December, 1908- 13 September 1946) was a Hauptsturmfuhrer of the SS and was the commandant of the Nazi concentration camp at Plaszow. He was responsible for the death and torture of thousands upon thousands of innocent people. Ralph Fiennes played him in Schindler's list.
See, your stomach just hit the floor too, didn't it. Now this my friends is a mistake, and while I do blame the company who's papers I used, I must also hold myself accountable for not checking up on it. You see, you can trust Mother Teresa and Oprah, but if you don't recognize the name, be sure to investigate. It would be a fantastic thought, had it been thought by someone known to be warm and loving, but when said by someone like that it takes a rather ominous tone. I can just imagine the many women, and men just to be p.c., sitting around the table at their scrapbooking party, unknowingly placing the little piece of paper next to the picture of their son at graduation or the one of their newborn grandchild. I can almost see the interns placing that on the list to go into that package as a little joke to pay for their ink stained fingers. Ha back, and a pox on your sales. It might have even been better to quote Edgar Allan Poe, who was crazy as all get out, but probably not as evil. I remember an episode of the West Wing where the characters were debating on whether or not to use something said by Chairman Mao, because he was a communist leader. I can't remember what was finally decided, but it is pretty much the same debate as is going on in my mind now. I think it does matter. If I place the paper on my fridge to remind me to follow my dreams, I think it would instead just remind me of sadness and atrocities, which are of course important to remember, but not necessarily on the fridge.
I guess I can chalk it up to a lesson learned. Check your references. I was taught that in seventh grade by Miss Ayers, I guess the importance just didn't sink in until now. And so , once again, my mistake lead to a lesson learned. I will do my best next time, and will forgive myself for the big one this time, but next time you notice that I do something like that, would you kindly swing an anvil in my direction?

Zucchzilla Contest

Alright, so when I began my lovely garden back in the Spring I was just sure that nothing would grow. Happily, we have been eating broccoli, and yummy tomatoes and lots and lots of zucchini. We've had zucchini bread and zucchini chicken, which is a really yummy recipe I was given by my Step-Mom and will be glad to share if you would like it, we are planning zucchini chicken soup for this week and I'm going to try to find a cheesy zucchini casserole recipe (Hey, if you have one maybe we could do a tradesy), I digress. Honestly I'm kinda tired of zucchini, even honestly tired of saying and typing zucchini, and seriously, I'm hoping that I'm spelling it right because I don't see a spell check at the top of this page.
These lovely vegetables (or are they fruits?) really grow. I mean we have checked them at night and then the next morning they are even more gigantic. I gave one to Mom the other day and suggested she keep it under her bed in case she needs to defend her territory. Here in the mountains you can shoot a person the moment they walk into your house and get away with it, I wonder if zucchini clubbing is included. It would at least make the front page of our little newspaper and obviously it would be the top news story, but of course that would not be funny so I will move on.
I have named this zucc., Zucchzilla, because for the longest time it hid among the flowers and leaves and it wasn't until it was really big that we even saw it. When Brian asked what I was going to make with it, I decided that I was just going to let it grow and grow, and then the light bulb went off and I thought it might be a fun little game.
I don't really think of myself as a competitive person, or at least I didn't until Jake and I had a little competition (or at least I did, not really sure if he knew we were competing, but Grandma wasn't there to let him cheat so I took the chance) to see who could make the most words from the name George Washington Vanderbilt. (The competition was scratched when our meal came and sadly, since he didn't know it was even a competition, it ended before it began.)
Anywhoo, I thought it might be fun, if you wanted to play, if you could all guess just how big he will get and then the winner might just be sent something fun, or we could just play for kicks, who knows. So, Zucchzilla is at about 16 inches now and the contest will end either when he jumps from his stem of little man picks him, whichever comes first.
Hopefully y'all aren't into contest rules, because you will find no fine print here. It just is what it is. Be careful to consider your guess because I cannot promise that the little man won't shoot straight out of bed this morning and run and pull Zucchzilla from his might throne. the prize will not be the zucc. because it falls under the "fragile, liquid, perishable, or potentially hazardous" blanket of questions they ask at the post office. I will keep you posted of his growth and I guess the person closest at the end will be the !!!WINNER!!!The contest will include my blog readers as well as my friends on Facebook. So, Happy guessing, no pushing, throwing punches, or pulling hair now, Play nice! Leave your guesses on my wall, my inbox, or my blog comments, or you can email me of you wanna. Have Fun!

His eye is on the sparrow, Hallelujah

Lately I have made an honest attempt to read more. I know, shocking isn't it. I've found that when I read, my mind wanders. I will read a whole page before I realize that I have not not absorbed a single sentence, even a single word.
Last week I was finishing the last in the Harry Potter series in the quiet hours of the morning, sitting in the chair I had sat in a year or so before while my Dad sat on the couch next to me in the late, quiet hours of another night, when into my mind came a picture. I was looking into my old church. The Episcopal cathedral that I attended with my Dad when I was young. The same place that we held my Grandmothers memorial service. I remember as a little girl sitting in the pews and just looking around in wonder at the stained glass windows, the thick smell of incense in the air. I saw the room and saw the pews with the kneelers, I looked around first from the main aisle and then from the pulpit, or maybe it is only called the pulpit in the Baptist church, I'm not sure. It's the same place I sat on an April Fool's day many years ago and, while a prayer began and I should have had my eyes closed, I instead turned and whispered for him to look at a bird that had flown into the rafters. He believed me, of course and began looking and then, snickering, I said full of pride that the trick had worked, "April fools". It's a story we retell each other often. That day he turned with absolutely no expression and replied,"You are in so much trouble when we get home." I was horrified at what I had done, and just sure that this punishment would be quite severe as I couldn't ever remember having been in "so much trouble" with him before. I hadn't received a spanking that I could remember in all my years of being his daughter and so I began to cry. His face softened and he whispered into my ear,"April Fools". We laugh about it all now because I was just sure that I had finally pushed him to the place where I would be in trouble for making a joke, which never had, nor has since happened. But this time I was standing in the aisle of an empty Cathedral and I could hear Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" playing. This is significant because back on the night that I sat in the same chair where I now found myself, we were watching "Feast of Love", a movie that I had needed to see from the first time I saw the trailer and then once seen had to own and share. As we began to watch I became embarrassed, as the first time I watched alone, and couldn't be embarrassed about the amount of nudity. I had forgotten it because it is a beautiful story about relationships and love and tragedy and well, the nudity was not absorbed as much as the lesson of never being afraid to love deeply. As we watched the music began and I remember saying how much the music spoke to me and Dad sighed and said that song was one of the songs he wanted played at his funeral. And so I sat in the wee hours of the morning thinking about Dad and his funeral and the Cathedral and the odor of wafting incense. As morning began and the littles woke and began their morning routines I couldn't lose the song. Later while folding laundry I began to hum a tune, which usually happens for some reason when I fold laundry. I think because I am alone and can sing without fear of being heard. As I hummed I began to sing,

"I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free,

for his eye is on the sparrow

and he watches over me. "

The lyrics are really,"And I know He watches me", but for some reason, "He watches over me", is what I know, and what I sing when I'm all alone in the laundry room.
Later that afternoon my Brother called, which is rare, but not unexpected as he will be here this weekend. He had called to tell me that my Dad had been in a accident. My heart sank and the first thing that came out of my mouth was that I had known it all day long. My brother knowing me well said that he knew when he called that that is what I would say.
I don't think I'm psychic, not at all, but so many times I have picked up the phone to call my Mom and it was busy because she was calling me. Even once when I had a land line I picked up to call and she was already on the line, she had heard the ring on her end but I had not yet on mine. There are times when my Dad has called when I needed him to without plan or consciousness on either of our parts. I think this is God's way of connecting us one to another. His way of tapping us on the shoulder. And I don't think that me in the church with a song in my mind that will be played at my Father's funeral is a premonition of his death either. I think it is my way of shoring up. Just as the same morning that I had sung "His eye is on the sparrow" standing in the laundry room of my own home, my Mom had been singing it to herself in her home, not telling each other or sharing, it was placed in both of our minds so that when my Brother called her on his way home from visiting Dad in the E.R. she would remind him of the same thing that I had been singing throughout the day.
Yesterday and the evening before I read Joan Dideon's the Year of Magical Thinking, a book I have wanted to read for the longest time, but never made it to the library to get, until a few days ago, in which she mentions her way of shoring up for disaster. She writes how she was prepared with emergency candles and numbers and papers, and that it was her way of shoring up for disaster. I have my important papers and my flashlights, but in a true emergency I doubt that I will think to grab the papers or have working batteries in the flashlights, as I usually find them strewn about the house burned out. I don't feel the need for paper work, I instead feel the need to shore up my own heart, not to block out love, but so that I am prepared emotionally when there is a loss of someone I love, not that there is any real way to do that.
Yesterday with littlest at the grandparents the biggers and I decided to take a hike on some local trails. I packed a lunch and grabbed the bug spray and as I did I kept thinking of other things to pack. We had food already, so I grabbed matches, and a box cutter and a clean towel and the Benadryl and anything else, oh yes, band aids, I could think of that we might need if we became lost or were attacked by a bear or if one of the kids cut themselves or had a reaction. For a three hour walk through the woods on well marked trails, I needed all of this. I guess in some ways I do shore up for disaster, but none came and we had a wonderful time and had a picnic on a rock by the stream. On the way I had said a quick prayer, "Lord please don't take Dad, I'm just not ready." Rather than praying as I should have and allowing God to do what He does in His time and in His way, but as a little girl asking to not have to leave the park yet, because she isn't done playing.
When we lost my Step Dad in January we were all crushed. I know that even as an adult, I am still my parents child and childlike with them in many ways. When I have a really bad day or am sad about whatever it is I am sad about, I need my husband and my children, but I need my parents as well. I need their advice and their laughter and the way they make me smile and feel safe just as they did when I was really a child. I need my husband who thinks it's silly to pack a box cutter in case some escaped convict jumps out from behind a tree and the parents who think that while I may not have to use them, I am somewhat protected by the things that I have packed, because they themselves cannot be there to protect me. And so when Jimmy died we were extremely sad, but he was ready and had been for while a while. It was justifiable. His mind had gone, and it would confuse him to have visitors, anything away from his normal routine would confuse him and while in selfishness we wanted him to stay we were comforted by the knowledge that he was Home. I joked at the time that he was on the back nine of the most beautiful golf course he had ever seen and was able to stand without help and swing the club harder than he had in years. He was no longer sick, or confused and was Home, where he belonged and well deserved to be.
I remember back years ago when my Grandfather (my Step-Mothers father) passed away and then not long after my Grandmother (my Dad's mom) followed. I remember walking with my Dad to see her and say goodbye and as I began to cry I mumbled "I hate this". Not understanding what I meant my Dad reassured that we didn't have to see her. "Not this", I cried making circles with my hands trying to represent the current moment, and then held my hands out in front of me, again making circles,"This". The whole thing, death. Losing two people who I loved in a matter of months, it was just too hard. Losing two people years apart is too hard, losing someone you love is just too hard. They were in a better place, out of pain and at peace, but it was too hard for me. God's timing is hard and it doesn't make sense to our mortal hearts. The loss of grandparents is normal, the loss of parents to an adult child is normal, the loss of children is not normal in any way, shape or form, but no matter the relation, I believe that God has His reason and his timing that we may never fully understand but we must trust, until we do. Age justifies death, just as illness. No one wants to say goodbye to a loved one just as no one wants to see that loved one hurting or in pain or confusion from which they will not return. I'm not ready for my Grandmothers to go although they have both told me that they are ready. And I get it. They have had long happy lives, they are strong beautiful women who raised their own children and saw the generation after that grow and raise the one after that which continues to grow. They were wives to the men they loved and they miss them and I have no doubt that even as we cry when they are called Home, they will be welcomed into the arms of their soul mates who went before them.
I don't dwell on future death of loved ones, but I do sometimes find myself imagining the aisles of the Churches and what will be said and whether I will be able to speak or to even form words. I wonder how long I will be able to pick up the phone and call my parents, or how many more times our calls will pass on those lines. It isn't for me to know, of which I am glad, and it isn't for me to ask for in my own time, because that would never come. And so I pray and I try to shore my own self up, so that when the call does come I will be prepared even though I know that it doesn't work that way. Just as we are still sad and heartbroken and grieving while holding the knowledge that they were ready. But I do know this and it is in disagreement with the last line from Ms. Dideon's book, His eye is most definitely on the sparrow, on the smallest of beings and on the largest, the strongest and most frail and He does absolutely watch over me, and you, and I'm sure that tune will mix with others in future years as I stand and say goodbye to loved ones. And I'm sure that no matter what lyrics are sung I will drift off and remember the graham cracker marshmallow treats and the candy dishes that define my Grandmother's for me, and I will remember the songs that my Mom sang to me at bedtime and the April fools joke and inappropriate laughter and movie watching with Dad, the strength and tuna casserole that are my Step-Mom and the vows I made to my husband. And through the tears I will most likely chuckle just a bit a funny memory, not out of disrespect but out of love for someone who once made me laugh. Because even if they aren't here to embrace, or answer the questions that I need to ask, or chuckle at the silly things I do, I have shored up their memory and I will carry those things, the most precious of all gifts with me and then one day they will be waiting for me, with open arms in a blinding brightness. And I will say...

I did my best,it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though It all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah

(Leonard Cohen)

I'm packing up my toys and going home

No, not really, besides I am at home, which also means that all of my toys are here anyway. If I was going to pack up and go anywhere it would most definitely be to Florida to sit at my Dad's bedside and have long sessions of inappropriate laughter with him about the indignities of being in the hospital. But I'm pretty sure that those of you who read this already know that story and well, it worries me enough to think about it, and to process it all enough to write about it would make me sad, so I'm going to just skip over that story and move on to my story about, well, moving on.
After many moments of careful consideration and not many moments of packing up things that just sold, I have decided to close down my Etsy shop. I instead will be following the lead of my hubby and move on to the greener pastures of Ebay. I know big steps right. Nah, not really. It is fun to again be embarking on a new adventure, and I know whatever comes, whether it be success or failure, I am still doing what I love and that is really, really fun.
Another big change that you must know about, just in case you try to find me at my new place of business , I am no longer panapizza, but have made the colossal change to ...wait for it...wait for it... anneliesepanapizza. I know, thankfully I don't have to get my i.d. changed for that. Wouldn't they all look at me funny. Besides anneliesepanapizza is still a name I think of fondly from my childhood.
So that's my newest news and if you sense a tinge of silliness in my writing it is because I have been staring at this screen, digitally packing everything up, moving it over, and unpacking since early this morning, and really you should just be glad that I didn't write this in webdings.

My life in movies

I would love to sit and tell you that I don't watch t.v., that instead we all sit at night and read by firelight. I would love to say that I have never, ever rushed the kiddos to bed to assure that I see the first 5 minutes of a given show, so that I know just who it was that had some horrible thing happen to them. I must admit, sadly that I have, and most of the time I spend the first 5 minuted of said show thinking about the fact that it was terrible that I just threw my kids into bed and traded them for television.
I have found that when I write these little bits, I tend, at some times to sound a bit overly romantic. My sweet children who I am in awe of daily and my husband who was made just for me. It is all true. I do love my family. I am blessed to be a mom and wife. I have parents that I adore and who are always there for all of us. I am a lucky, lucky, blessed girl, and I know it. The problem is that I don't want any of you to think that I'm full of it. I am not.
Life can be as tragic as it is wonderful, and while it seems sometimes to be a hearty strong thing, it can just as easily be broken down. Like a dam that needs constant tending so that when the flood does come, it doesn't wash away the whole town, life and love need constant attention.
As my daughter, who is now home from her cross country romp, and I sat watching "Ya ya Sisterhood" the other night, I began thinking just how life can mimic the movies, or at least how movies certainly do mirror life. There is a scene where the character Vivi runs to her sick child only to find that all of her children have come down with the flu. She is holding one child who gets sick on her, while the others all cry, and well, she loses complete control. I believe that the movie goer is supposed to think that she completely lost her marbles. What a crazy lady, right? Well maybe, but there was a winter night in our house that went down just like that, and well(again) I almost almost completely lost control. I had been almost three nights without sleep as Middle Little was up with a stomach flu. Just as he was recovering Lady and Littlest became sick at exactly the same moment. There I was trying to direct littlest body so as to not get the sheets any dirtier than they were, and stepping in things on the floor that I shall not mention here, while Lady, across the house was calling for me. It was almost just like the movie. I began to cry(sob), and my husband began to look at me as if I had grown two or four heads, because who cries over vomit?(me obviously). But I didn't run off for three days of sleep in a hotel room, as Vivi does (although I really, really wanted to), instead I cleaned up the mess, started the washer, loaded a couple of unsalvageable things into a trash bag and carried it outside, set my foot on a fresh patch of ice, landed on the icy pavement and just sat and cried.
See, it isn't always marvelous here in the cove, but I am sure you all suspected that. We have days where bedtime is more like a scene from "Night at the Museum" . The directions say to lock the lions up before they eat you, you know. While we do have fairy tale days where everything goes according to plan, we also have days where there is enough tension to blow the roof off at any moment as in some action flick. There are moments when the boys throw down like a scene from "Fight Club". I have times when I can't keep up, days where I feel like both sides of Cinderella, the one who cleans and the one who runs off with her prince. If I am going to be completely honest, which is really the whole point here, I have days where I want to have a knock down, drag out, "War of the Roses" fight with my husband and I'm sure he has days where he wants to "Throw Mama from the Train". That's just life. Good and bad, pretty, ugly, and down right disgusting, happy, sad, and amazingly hysterical. But no matter how it is at any given moment I do know this, it is a gift, and it is up to all of us to make the best of the bad times and relish the good and maybe even hope for better. I loved the movie "Little Miss Sunshine". It is the perfect example of a family trying to do the best for their little girl while everything is going wrong. The teenage boy is tells his uncle how he wishes he could just skip the teenage years and the uncle replies that they are necessary because if you didn't have hard times how would you know how wonderful the good times are. That might be one of the most simple and wonderful things to take away. Life can be all of the things I said before, and so I can focus on the bad side of life, the hard times that everyone in their own way is dealing with, or I can focus on the good side, the raw beauty, and that is what I choose to do here, if not to tell you about it, maybe just to remind myself. Life is short we all know that, and have learned the lesson the hard way even though we are told. I want to be the parent who, when my children have a bad day, no matter how old they get, come to me for advice or assistance like I do with my parents. I want to be the kind of wife who my husband wants to come home to at the end of a stressful day, because I help him find peace. It is easy to let myself believe that to be that person for my family I have to be perfect, all smiles and no tears. I know, though, that is not the case at all, I just have to be real. In bad times, I don't need the candy coating, although a bag of MnM's does help in some situations. I need the ones who say,"Yeah, I've been there and it really sucks."
Life is all about the highs and lows and even the sideways. It is truly the the lessons learned in the hard times that help us appreciate the good. So, while the things I write here are true and very real, I also have things in my life that are not so rosy, like the day I shared about falling through the heat vent.
I will leave you with this, in "Sex and the City" , the girls are having a conversation about whether they are happy or not. They ask Charlotte how often she is happy and she says ,"Every day". The other women look at her like she is lying and her response is something like this,"I'm not saying that I'm happy all day every day, but yes, at some point every day, I am happy."
I think that pretty much sums it up, don't you?

A brothers love

We are in the final countdown until Lady Little's wheels touch down a little closer to home. It has been a month since we saw her last. A long, testosterone filled month. I am in serious need of some good old fashioned girl talk and most definitely a mani/pedi day with my firstborn. Last night as we all settled in for the night I mentioned this need to the hubs. He just didn't get it, and actually looked quite offended that my boys were not enough to make me happy. Of course it's not that at all. I have enjoyed my boy time tremendously. I have loved watching Middle Little ride his bike over his new ramp as Littlest rolled his dump truck down the hill to see what it crashed into. It's just that life with all boys in the house is a bit more rough around the edges than it is when there is a girl in the mix. Plus, my boys just don't understand a bad hair day that can't be fixed with a baseball cap and in their world there is no reason to put on makeup before a trip to the flea market. She gets those things, and I am, as we all are, ready for her to come home.
The truth is though that while the sensitivity level of our household has gone down quite a bit since she left, I am happy to say that it has not been lost all together. A testament to that was my sweet Middle's actions yesterday. Littlest had his 3 year checkup with our family doctor. With the Hubs at work I had prepared myself to take both boys. Now, I can handle heading out with both boys most days, but when a doctors office waiting room, and possibility of shots is thrown in, I tend to have anxiety over it.
The morning did not begin as I had hoped. It was filled with bickering and all sorts of disagreeing. When we arrived and I began to fill out the paperwork, Littlest began acting like one of those kids. You know the ones that you look at in the store and think, or even maybe say out loud,"Boy, if that were my child...". It wasn't pretty. His actions mixed with the fact that Middle would really rather have been anywhere else at that moment and was not too timid to tell me so, prompted me to text my sweet hardworking husband to say that the next appointment was all his. After weighing and measuring we were put into our little room. Ahhh, a controllable environment with no senior citizens to horrify. All was going well. Middle was enjoying the company of our doctor and her nurse, who he may just have the tiniest crush on. Dr. I decided that we should check Littlest's iron level. "No problem", I said way too soon. "He does really well with the finger prick".
No such luck, as the lab they use requires a blood draw. Of course they don't require that you come into the lab, they know better.
Up on the table he went and the doctor sweetly explained to him just what would happen and while it didn't really sound anything like this, this is what I heard.
"You will hold your strong willed 3 year old down while we do our utmost to get the blood before he screams."
Now remember that an exasperated Middle was in the room with us, making a mental list of all of the places he would rather be than in this tiny room with his stinky brother and his grumpier by the minute Mom. While the doctor explained what was about to happen, this is what he must have heard."NOW we're going to set your sweet little brother on this table, see, and your Mom is going to hold him down, see, and laugh at his pain while we take this huge needle and fill this bucket up with his blood. Muahahahah!"
As the procedure began it looked like it might all go off without too much drama. Littlest was being very agreeable and held his squeezy truck while they tapped his chubby arm looking for a vein. I tenderly draped myself over him and brushed the hair from his forehead as they began. He watched in awe. What male of the species wouldn't love three women talking sweetly and focusing on just them, right? And then it happened. A scream that surely shocked the elderly patients in the other rooms ripped through the examining room. I tried my best to hold him still, but to no avail as the needle popped out of his arm.
"Well, we'll have to try the other arm", the nurse explained. We all did a swticharoo, but quickly decided that the other arm was best so again we traded places. As I looked over to check on Middle I saw that he had covered his ears to block out his little brothers cries. I did my best to assure him while also doing my utmost to keep Littlest from jumping off the table.
More determined than ever we began again. Holding tightly to his legs and making way more promises than I will ever be able to keep, I tried to explain the need to hold still so that these sweet ladies didn't need a stiff drink when the shift was over.
In a whirlwind of screams and tears we finally had success. As the three of us had a short celebration of victory and told Littlest what a big boy he had been, all of our eyes fell on my sweet Middle Little. He was curled up in a ball in the chair, covering his ears and his face. Before I could reach him, our sweet physician patted his back and told him it was all done. As he sat up we all saw it. The tears that were streaming down his face were every bit as big and real as his baby brother's. It was if he had felt the same fear and pain that his brother had. He came to my side and buried his face. I reassured both of my boys, and remembered back to a few days after we brought Littlest home. The hospital called to say that I had left something. As I hung up Middle looked at me with huge eyes and asked if we had to take his little brother back. All was well as we left the appointment. The stickers and lollipops that filled both of their hands must have wiped away the trauma. I didn't need stickers, the fact that we were on our way home was enough for me.
I'm sure that we will have more bicker filled days. Middle will surely have days where he wishes he was an only child, as all children do at one time or another. But no matter what, they are siblings, and while it may be fine in their own minds to torment eachother, everyone else had better watch out. Had the ones torturing his brother been a pack of bullies and not a sweet doctor nurse duo the outcome most likely would have been very different.

5 years

We've had good times and bad, health and sickness, we've been richer and we've been poorer, we've kept our vows to love, comfort, and cherish...
In some ways the past 5 years have sped by like a lightening flash, yet at the very same time I find it hard to realize that it has only been 5 years. It has been five years of living our vows, not because we promised each other, or God, or our friends and family, but rather because we want to. I know that we will have times of want, and there may be days when it is harder to keep those vows we made. But for now, we realize how lucky we were to find each other. Not everyone finds their soul mate. We realize the blessings of friends and family, and children running amok. We are thankful for our home and our cozy beds. We are thankful for laughter that we share and comfort we give each other. And to this day and hopefully for many many more years to come, no matter what is to come, he will be by my side and I by his and out littles all around. Because I now know more than ever that I would rather live in a tin can with him, than a mansion on a hill with someone else.


I love you baby, now more than ever.

Stumbling around in heat induced delirium

The weather is HOT!! I know, I know, it's summer right? You could go back just a few posts and read where I was complaining about how cold it was and how I longed for warm weather. Now
it's here and I am once again complaining because it's hot. It's not so much that I don't like the heat. Really it doesn't bother me all that much,and seeing how I live in the mountains, it isn't as bad as my "peeps" who live in Florida. It's just that with the heat comes the heaty grumps. You know the ones where you fear anyone coming within a few feet of you on the off chance they may want to touch you, driving your body heat up a few painful degrees, not to mention the fact that they might just block the fan's cool breeze that you just spent fifteen minutes setting to blow perfectly in your direction.
The heat I believe is what has contributed to the boys new game of "Clash of the Titans". Not so much a game as it is a reenactment, which leads usually to tattling and trying to see who can say "OUCH" the loudest, thus seeing how loud my Medusa impression can get and just how far away from each other I will make them go. And yet they seem drawn back to each other with some sort of internal brotherly gravity.
Lady little has completely given up on the boys and their new pass time and has tucked herself away in her room until the exact time she will leave for her summer tour. I can't say I blame her. Sometimes it is best to be grumpy all alone.
I don't mean to make it sound like times are miserable, they're not at all. There is plenty of happy sand play and bike riding, it's just that between the hours of 3 and 6 when the sun hits just right on the house to drive the inside temps up 5 or 10 degrees its not a pretty sight.
And so I sit this morning searching for something to fill those miserably hot hours before dinner, bath and bed. In part I am also putting off the list of things to do today. The washer is running, but I dread the dishwasher. I need to clean and garden, but for now I just need a little time wasting.
My sweet techie girl introduced me to stumbleupon.com a few months ago. I'm always looking for new craft ideas and it is a fun and free way to waste time while collecting ideas for gifts. I love to be crafty. The problem is that it can get expensive, and so I am always looking to something that I can make out of something I already have. A few weeks ago I took apart the kids old bikes and organized all of the parts and made a Father's Day gift for my Dad. Sounds fun right? He will read this and wonder, but I really think and definitely hope that he will like it. I would put up a picture, but the gift is on it's way, so I will have to wait until next week so as to not ruin the surprise. Anywhoo, I love taking something and turning it into something else. Finding life in something inanimate. I am most definitely that lady that will knit sweaters out of old dryer lint when I am old, but for now I try to stick to things that are more on the "normal" side. Normal is most likely not the right word to put there but you get my meaning I'm sure.
I save cans and bottles, because you never know when you can use them. Starbucks coffee jars are really pretty when you take the wrapper off and add colored beads, and then wire them to
hang in the window. They would also make great votive holders, except I don't light candles very often, for fear that I will get caught up in craft land and burn the whole darn place to the ground. My husband knows the look I get when I am intrigued by something. He can look at me and immediately know that while he doesn't know where I am going, I am most assuredly
somewhere else. Last night my sweet girl asked me why I had cans in the dishwasher.
"I'm saving them," I said.
"For what," was her next question.
"I don't know, I might want to make something with them,".
She had a look of fear, like my answer was going to be that I was making her a new outfit for her first day of her sophomore year.
"Well, o.k., as long as you don't turn in to one of those whorder people I'm fine with it. "
I have stashes of fabric and paper, beads and paint. I just sometimes need a little help with what to do with it. As I was "stumbling" this morning I found a site that showed me how to make a gift box out of a soda can. I felt better. It looked like fun. I also learned that I'm not the only one who likes to make something out of nothing. And believe me I will show Lady little as soon as she wakes just to ease her fears.

Glorious Perspective

Good days and bad days. You know how it goes. I have days where the fear creeps up and smacks me even before I heard it creeping. Most days I'm fine, and able to appreciate all of the wonder that comes with the simple life we live. Watching the Littles grow up in this calm little cove, spending time with my neighbor/adoptive family member/garden buddy/mentor on all things, seeing my husband appear through the door after work and watching the kiddos run and announce that "DADDY'S HOME". Life is good all the time, and yet those creeping fears still seem to surface. The fact that my husband's job may just be teetering on the edge as so many are these days, and the fact that might mean that I will be adding server to my profile once again. I sometimes need to stop and remind myself that we will have food and a home, and that most importantly, no matter how bad things get we will still have those same friends and family there to love us no matter what. I see my worries and they are quickly put into perspective when I talk with that same buddy and he tells me that his wife of over 50 years is not feeling well and there will be tests and possibly surgery. I see the creeping fear in his eyes when he lets himself go to that place where his beloved is gone and he is still here. Most fear full moments
pass quickly and most times I find it quite easy to put things back into perspective. I can just open my eyes and look around, and see the situations that others are facing and realize that we have it so good. And so,the other morning while taking some pictures of my newly flourishing
garden, I thought it was time for a little inspiration. I pulled out my Bible and a stack of quote books and searched for anything to pass something on. Of course I didn't have to look for long before I found enough for 15 posts. The funny thing is that before I could get this post written, something happened that put everything just a little further into focus. As Lady little and I ran out for treats last night to celebrate the last day of school, the hubs called to let me know that the power had gone out. As we arrived back in the cove we passed all of the dark houses with doors open. Complete silence. This time rather than the power being restored within a short time it was out all evening and well into the night. I sat with my babes all huddled on the couch talking and telling stories. We watched as the first lightening bugs of the summer appeared all over the front yard, and just sat in silence as they flickered magically as far as we could see. We watched as our neighbors came by to check on a homebound family member. We watched and listened for the trucks from the power company, an then watched again as their mighty spotlights danced around looking for the problem. We talked about how things used to be, not so long ago, right in this very spot. How they used to wash their clothes in the same creek that they bathed in. The simpler times with much harder work days. Ahh how wonderful it is to gain glorious perspective. Times when you did what you did to survive and then went to sleep at night being thankful for the wonderful abundance that you were given so graciously.




Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again:Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to tall. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything but in everything by prayer and petition, with Thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4




Not what we have, but what we enjoy constitutes our abundance.
John Petit- Senn





Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.
Marianne Williamson




Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and yo will find rest for your souls."
Matthew 11: 28,29





This is the gift- to have the wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly, and naively, the basic goods of life with awe, pleasure, wonder and even ecstasy.
Abraham Maslow





All the really great things in life are expressed in the simplest words;
friends and family; purpose and meaning; love and work; caring and community; appreciation and gratitude.
Dan Zadra



Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.
Wayne Dyer





We are most alive in those moments when our heart are conscious of our treasures.
Thornton Wilder






Therefore, since we have been justified though faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained
access by faith into this grace, in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings,because we know that suffering produces perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.
Romans 5: 1-5





The world is grand, awfully big and astonishingly beautiful, frequently thrilling.
Dorothy Kilgallen







What we need is to love without getting tired. How does a lamp burn? Through the continuous input of small drops of oil. What are these drops of oil in our lamps? They are the small things of daily life: faithfulness, small words of kindness, a thought for others, our way of being silent, of looking speaking and of acting. Do not look for Jesus away from yourselves. He is not out there; He is in you. Keep your lamp burning and you will recognize Him.
Mother Teresa




The Lord is my shepherd;I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23

I thought I loved him then

When I was a girl, I would develop a crush on a boy and inevitably that boy would get a crush on one of my friends. It's just the way it was, and it was fine. I would give up on him and move on to another. I grew used to it. But then this happened and changed my life.


I saw him the first time 11 years ago this past February.


I can't tell you the first time he saw me.


I fell head over heals the very instant I saw him. The bells rang and the angels sang and God tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear,"Not yet sweetie, but one day."


I don't really know even now what he heard or saw, or if God tapped him on the shoulder.
He was strong and rugged and would say whatever came to mind no matter what the recipient might think of it. He was stubborn and driven and was not about to let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it. He wasn't what I was used to. He wasn't what I knew. He was different. At first glance, he wasn't the guy that you would take home to Mom and Dad. Some of my friends thought I was crazy. I knew that there was more to this man than they were able to see. I saw it when I looked into his eyes. There was something there. There was so much more to be uncovered. Under the tough exterior of the cook, the NASCAR fan, the loud music. He would tell me that he was no good for me and I would usually reply that I knew better. No matter how hard he tried to hide the fact that he had any heart at all, I knew that his heart was good and loving and meant to beat next to mine.
It hasn't always been easy. In fact there have been times when we were both ready to pack up and walk out the door, but we didn't. By the grace of God we didn't.
All of the sides of him that I saw but didn't understand are more clear.
The stubbornness which can come across as harsh is now clearly what he uses to carry him through the days of hard work. And he works. He goes to work and comes home and works some more, not because he is a workaholic, but because he is a provider. Because he loves the fact that I love being home to see our littlest grow up. Because I love meeting the school bus, and I want to be here when my babies need me. Partly, even, because I really think he likes being around me, which at times I find amazing. The stubbornness comes through often and when three men in a grocery store parking lot "offer to take" his money, it turns to bravery, allowing his response to be that they can surely try but at least one of them is going down with him because he's going to get home to his family at the end of this day.
Somewhere deep inside was a love that is stronger than any I have ever known. The kind of love the bears a sign that reads something like this:
"These are the people that I love, and if you want to mess with them you will have to go through me first. "
The love that brings tears when he sees our daughter dressed for her first formal dance and strikes fear when she wants to ride in the car with a boy. The kind of love that gives him the strength to nearly kick down a maternity ward door to get to his wife and soon to be born son. The love that makes him love to wake up in the wee hours of his morning off to take his little boy fishing, because that's what he used to do with his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, and he wants to share the same gift of time with his own son. The love that he tried so hard to hide is stronger than I ever suspected.
You may ask if I have a sort of hero worship over romanticizing thing going on with him. Maybe so. I can admit that he isn't perfect. He has his bad days. There are times when his stubbornness can take me to my breaking point, usually when I see it in our youngest. But honestly he is perfect for me. I know without a doubt that he is the one I was meant to be with and the one I want to grow old with. Because he loves me whether I am at my worst or my best. He laughs with me when I'm at my silliest and he holds me when I cry. He tells me I am beautiful whether I am dressed up to go out or I'm in my old flannel pajamas. He loves me, not what my moods tell him or what I look like at a particular point in the day. No matter my mistakes or my successes. He loves me for me, and that truly is one of the greatest gifts he could give me.
The things I saw in him, in the first moments of the first glance were not a figment of my imagination. Maybe it was that I saw what our life could be if we just let go and let it happen. Like the song says, I thought I loved him then, and at the time I thought it was as strong as it could ever possibly be, but it wasn't. It has grown and it has gotten better, and the love has gotten stronger and grown deeper. It seems the only things that haven't changed are these few..
I still have a huge crush on him and my heart still skips a beat when I see that it's him on the other end of the phone line.
He is still the one that I want to share my days with and crawl into bed with at night, even if there is a three year old in between us.
His singing still makes me giggle, and his wink makes me melt.
The box of cookies he brings me at the end of the day, just because he knows I like them, is much sweeter than any diamond he could ever find.
When I laugh I want him there and when I'm sad it is him that I want to comfort me. I want him there to share the joys and triumphs, the disappointments and pain.
I want his hand around mine and I want my head to find that perfect spot on his shoulder.
The best part is that he is still, after all of this time, and to be completely honest even more now, my best friend that I was lucky enough to fall in love with.


Even better than that is the fact that rather than look at my crush for him and turn to my friend instead, he turned to me and said "I do."



Happy Birthday baby. I don't really know why you love me, but I'm sure glad you do. I love you more!

Life Alert Please

Littlest Little has his own littlest language which at times stumps me and even the most experienced of interpreters (Middle Little). It took me thirty or so minutes and a final pat on my legs the other night to realize that "seaewap" means "sit on your lap". He will gingerly walk into the kitchen and ask,"Wha' doin Momma?".
"Emptying the trash baby, what are you doing?"
"I doin' fine".
This conversation happens often and I love it. It makes me laugh each and every, I even provoke it sometimes.
A few days ago he walked into my room and was doing some kind of swirly thing with his arms. I smiled at him and he announced that he has "supowers"(Superpowers).
"Awesome", I said, realizing that his hands were in a flying motion and the sound he was making was that of the wind blowing by.
"You ha' supowers too mommy!"
"I do? Yeah! What are they?"
"You get cheese down."
Perfect, I thought. I'll take any superpower I can get at this point. Middle Little thinks it's pretty cool that I know how to disassemble the vacuum to remove clogs. I was deemed even cooler when I fixed his bicycle tire the other day all by myself.
Yesterday we woke up to more rain and so a morning inside was deemed necessary. I decided that with most of my early summer work done...
Start potty training......Check
Get the kids through end of year testing.........Check
Garden.............check.
Spring cleaning.....check
Littlest's birthday...check
...I decided to take down my spring decorating and put out the summer stuff. I love to change things around. It breathes new air into the house and it's kinda fun to watch the family look around to make sure they walked into the right place.
I realized that one dreaded task was way past due. I really needed to clean out the floor vents. It's a nasty job, someones got to do it and since I don't see any hands raised... I started by removing all of the vent covers and placed them into the sink to soak. Now, knowing myself very well, and knowing the fact the even though I was named for a ballerina, I was not named Grace, I thought it best to cover each hole in the floor with a chair. My superpowers have their limit you see. There are certain things I just won't do when alone with the little man. I don't climb up into the garden when no one is within shouting distance. I don't snow ski, or roller skate. Seriously if I have heard a story of anyone getting hurt doing something it is crossed of the list. I don't mow the lawn because I know a guy who cut off the larger majority of his toes once. He was all by himself and had to drive a stick shift truck to the E.R.. I also know a lady who lay in the rain for a number of hours until her daughter got home because she had broken her ankle while mowing her lawn. If it has happened to one person it might stay, two people it's gone. It's not that I live in fear and therefore base my life goals on said fear, it's just that if it isn't on my bucket list and it could cause harm off it goes. I just know my limits, and they include the fact that baths are hard to give and take with a cast on one arm, and if I break my right leg driving is out. I keep my cell in my pocket if I am climbing on anything or going into the boys closet alone. I try to be careful as the fear of getting stuck and having to holler for help or worse having to send Littlest off to the neighbors for assistance, is daunting. He would have to pass the trampoline and I'm pretty sure it would win out over his poor helpless mother. Anywhoo, I cleaned out the vent holes, and decided that it might be safe to climb up on the piano to remove the pictures from the wall and swap them out. All went well and I was sure I was in the safe zone. My supowers were indeed in working order. I was way too confident. I scrubbed the vent covers and moved all of the chairs back into place, when something caught my eye. I am most definitely one of those people who should wear the pin that says,"I don't have ADD, I just, ooh look something shiny." I decided that my corner cabinet would look pretty with a green ribbon hanging from the door pull. Forgetting where I was and that there were holes in the floor, I headed to the corner. Now it all happened so fast that I'm not completely sure of the details, but it went something like this. In slow motion of course, in a split second that felt like eternity.
"Oh my goodness where am I going. Has the earth opened and I am now on a journey into the center? Oh holy goodness. Little, tell everyone I love them. Go get help. Ahhhh. Oh I am such a goner. How am I still falling. Oh Littlest's new bike, maybe I can catch myself. Oh that hurt, not a good idea. How am I still falling. Thud. Ok now how do I get out. Whoo, is anything broken. ok. no blood. Littlest why are you just standing there, and why is there a smile on your face. Kick in your superpowers and save your mommy."
Now all of that happened in the most split of seconds as I said and yet it took me fully three hours to remember why I was headed into the corner in the first place. I still can't find the ribbon. Littlest little watched and asked his usual "Wha' doing mommy".
"Oh nothing honey, just hanging out in the floor,"I thought to myself. I think there was a slight giggle in there as well. To be completely honest I can't blame him as I most likely would have laughed had I seen someone else do what I had just done. I thought of myself half draped over the new Thomas bike, one foot in the bowels of hell and the other on carpeted floor. I pulled myself out and looked myself over. No blood or bones protruding, all fingers and toes in place, just the faint sight of blue slowly creeping up various parts of my body. Thankfully, other than bruises that I found randomly throughout the afternoon, I am fine.
It is a good story, that of the likes of some of my Dad's. With his permission I will tell some at another time. They are good, but to be honest they are a thousand times better when told in front of my Grandmother, who laughs until she cries every time they are told. Just the sight of her laughing like that will fill your heart with enough joy to last a good long while. I am honestly happy to carry on the family tradition, of not only getting hurt, but of getting hurt in the most bizarre and amusing situations.
I did learn a valuable lesson through pain. I already knew not to do anything too dangerous while alone with a three year old and I can honestly say that walking through the living room shouldn't need to be on the list. You see, last weekend my father in law fell in his yard. My husband and others laughed and teased, not because he fell, but because he wouldn't let my Mother in law get help from the neighbors. While I didn't laugh at the fall, I did when I was told the stories of the teasing and suggestions that they may need to purchase Life Alert for him. I'm honestly not sure why I was chosen but I think that possibly it was Karma that led me across the living room to my demise and when I was in just the right place it reached up, grabbed my ankle and tried to pull me into the heating duct. No matter what the reason I have learned my lesson and you bet I will be there wielding my hammer when we make the ramp for my Father in law. Don't be worried, either way. You see, my superpowers usually work well with tools, and if they kick out by some chance that day, you will surely get to hear the story.

A little icing can be a good thing

It has been a good week. My Spring cleaning is all done, with the exception of my husbands office, (he has forbidden me to touch it even with my begging and promises that I would not touch his ball cards), and our two year old carpet.( By two year old carpet, I do not mean that we installed it two years ago, but rather it is badly stained by my two year old, causing me to truly believe it might be better burned than cleaned.) I have done my best to struggle through the driving and new relationship in my daughters life with poise and even excitement for her. I did not receive a call from my Middle Little's Assistant Principal to explain that he had been involved in another "incident", which is good for me and even better for him. He is settling well into his grounding and I think has even realized that just because he can't watch television does not mean that I have to be his entertainment. My sweet boy is returning to me after our conversation about the fact that just because he is getting older, does not mean that he has to lose his sweet, tender side. My Littlest Little has finally taken interest in the potty. That's the big one. I knew not to push him towards it. Potty training is one of those things that children have to come to at least half-way on their own or it just isn't going to happen. Every now and then I would ask him if he would like to try. Most times his response was a quick and short "Nope". My plan through the winter was that as soon as the weather turned and stayed warm, I would just strip him down and let him have a few days of outside nudity so that he could see just how fun the no diaper life might be. As the temperatures have stayed up, I decided on Friday to ask once again if he would like to use the potty. You would have thought that I had just received news of the President coming to visit, had you seen my excitement. I stripped him down, got the potty out of the closet, and outside we went. He played while I built a new gate, to keep him in the safety of the play yard while allowing Middle Little to escape the bounds of the house to ride his bike without help.
I have to take a side step here for just a second. My babes are five and six years apart, assuring that they will always be at totally different stages and also assuring that I will be on my toes for a very long time. While Lady Little is off doing all of the things that come with High School life, and Middle Little is at a place where he wants to escape by himself once in a while, Littlest Little feels that he should have no boundaries at all and should escape any chance he can. We had a gate that was suitable for all of the little stages last summer. Lady little was big enough to step over the gate, and I could get Middle Little out while keeping Littlest Little inside without too much effort. This summer all has changed. Littlest Little has a need to try to escape at every chance, and even did once, causing my landlord/friend/adoptive family member, to announce that I might consider contacting Caesar Milan to come train him. Actually, while this was suggested I think it made him feel a little good that his tractor buddy escaped to him. Anywho, after building the new gate, with the full realization that some sort of locking mechanism would be needed, Middle Little and I headed to Home Depot, or as I like to refer to it, "heaven on earth", to find just the right thing. The first gentleman that offered help looked at me like I had two heads when I explained our need for something to lock and almost three year old in while allowing the nine year old to escape the confines of the play yard. Thankfully a second gentleman approached and when I explained our situation knew immediately what we needed. I'm not really sure if he had adventurous boys or if he has great knowledge in the fine motor skills of children at different ages, or maybe just days before he had helped someone else with exactly the same dilemma. No matter the reason we purchased exactly what we needed with an extra or two just to be on the safe side, and headed home. I am happy to announce that even with all of his efforts so far, there has been no escape.(knock on wood)
And so we began our Saturday with one boy naked and celebrating huge potty success. With the day beginning on that note I was at a stage of elation that only parents tired of changing diapers will know, the day as far as I thought, couldn't get better. I spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry while the kidlets played. My husband came home from his flea market expedition with surprises. He brought me two and a half flats of veggies to be planted in my new garden. The three Littles went off on an adventure with Nonie (my mom) leaving me with my plants and garden tools. Peace quiet and dirt. Surely it can't get any better than that, right? While my husband cherished the quiet and rest after and long work week and before another, I laced up my old dirty sneaks and spent 5 or 6 hours digging and planting and sweeping and watering. I even made friends with a rolie polie and an earth worm or two. Unfortunately, I didn't make friends with the sunblock I should have worn and as the sun was going down , the shade of color on my shoulders and back was going up. Just a minor hiccup in what seemed to be the perfect Saturday.
Surely the peace and quiet I had while the kids were having a fun adventure, and my husbands much deserved rest could not be topped, or so I thought.
I haven't ever needed to be "the cool mom". As long as my children were happy, well fed, and well behaved, I could put off cool. That being said if a little cool could be acquired I would gladly take it as an extra bonus.
As evening became night and a gentle rain began to water my newly expanded garden, I cleaned myself up and settled into an evening with my boys by my side and Lady Little off to have some private Nonie time. As I was fixing my dinner my phone rang. I love that my girl texts me just for fun, and the conversation that followed might just have been an extra layer of icing on the cake that was this glorious Saturday. We chatted back and forth for a bit about what movie they had picked out and how my shoulders were now hot pink. She suggested that I should put a signature on my phone. Those of you who receive texts from her know that she usually has a line or two at the end that you have no idea of the meaning or how it pertains to the convo you are having. That is her signature. I don't even know how to set one on my phone and so I responded that she would have to help me think one up. Her response was this.
"Something cheesy like Cool mom or garden knome."
Now yes, she did say cheesy, and again yes, she did spell gnome with a k, but she also, I think, suggested in her own way that I might just be a cool mom. Funny that something I never needed to hear or wanted to hear would actually make my Saturday one of the best ever.

Fins

Last fall I emailed my Dad to ask one simple question. How is it that yesterday, I dressed my little girl in a Winnie the Pooh jumper, tights and saddle oxfords. I brushed her corn silk colored hair, and packed her Elmo backpack. We climbed into the car and off we went for her first day of preschool. How is it then, that I woke up this morning and took her to her first day of high school. I don't remember his response exactly, but I think he asked back, how it was that his little girl was now married with three children of her own.
It is now rapidly approaching the end of the school year, which will make her a rising Sophomore. I know that tomorrow morning I will wake up, and dress myself. I will check the air in the tires and the oil, and will check to make sure that everything is bungied into the trunk. I will hand her a piece of paper with all of her emergency numbers. We will climb into the car and head off to take her to college.
For her, these are the days of boys and cars, adventures and new responsibilities, and the excitement of it all. For the adults who love her, these are the days of trying our best to be fair while allowing her freedom, protecting her and praying a lot. Folks we are in uncharted territory. Remember the Jimmy Buffet song "Fins"? "fins to the left, fins to the right". Yep, that pretty much sums up my state of mind.
It has all been stewing throughout the year. Little things here and there. Sleepovers and outings. A few months ago she tried out for her school production of Seussical. She won a part and our early Spring was filled with the sounds of her singing and dancing. I was excited for her and cautiously reminded her to try her best to keep her GPA up. It has been a long time since I have had to remind her to keep up with her homework. I came to the realization a few years ago, that with her, it is better to let set her own goals. She has proven herself time and time again. She sees a challenge, something new to take part in, sets the goal and reaches it all on her own. She went to each and every practice, no matter how long it was or how exhausted she became. She never once complained. During this time, she came home and announced that there would be a cast party. Of course it was after the final performance which made necessary a change in her regular curfew. In an effort to help, or so she thought, she announced that her friends brother was willing to take her and bring her home. It was all I could do to say that there was no chance in the world that she would be going to a High School party, chaperoned or not. She would absolutely not be getting into a car with a teenage driver. Nope, not a chance. In reality, however, she had earned the right to celebrate her accomplishment. She had put in hours and effort. She had kept her grades exactly where they needed to be. She deserved and had earned the chance to prove that she could take this new step and be responsible. I explained that she could go to the party, but as far as details were concerned she would have to allow me time to simmer.
In an effort to be fair and reasonable and even just a little bit to assure that I would not be the only bad guy, I consulted the hubs. "Honey", I began sweetly," There is a party after the last performance, and she wants to go and she wants to ride with a 17 year old boy."
If I had had a mirror in front of my own face, I'm sure my own grimace would have frightened me. Thankfully, my usually strong and well balanced hubby lost all color in his face and looked as if he might fall to the floor, making me feel quite a bit better about my own pained expression. "Um", he stammered," what would Pa do?", referring to my own Dad. He sat for a moment and then stood, reached for the phone and excused himself to find out just what Pa would suggest. As it turns out Pa would have said no, and then broken the poor 17 year old boy's legs so that he couldn't drive(not really but you know). I'm more than sure that more than a few ideas were vollied back and forth during this conversation that I was not privy to. Finally after much contemplation we came up with this. She could ride to the party with the boy and his sister. I would then pick her up at midnight. This seemed fair and reasonable, at least given the situation, and made both sides relatively happy.
Over the next few days we re-discussed the importance of wearing seat belts, making good decisions, and all of the other things that come to the mind of the parents of a sweet beautiful talented girl such as ours. The play went off without a hitch, and received a well deserved standing ovation. All worked out with the party and the ride, and at the end of the night my once little girl and I arrived home, none the worse, and quickly headed in the direction of our beds.
Around the same time of the play try outs, she came home and asked if she could take drivers ed. One side of me was just sure that she had to be 15 before she could take the class the other side of me simply hoped that she would have to be 18 or even 20, if I was really lucky. Sadly, neither side was correct, and so we signed her up. She went each Saturday for 5 weeks, and each time I would pick her up, she would go on and on about how she couldn't wait to get behind the wheel. Once again I was sure that she would have to wait for the Fall. Surely they don't let a 14 year old behind the wheel. Surely not. Please say it isn't so.
This past Monday, I received a text from my sweet punkin' on her bus ride home from school. She had exciting news. I couldn't wait for her to arrive home, not having any idea what the excitement was about. I watched her face as she walked throughout the door, whatever it was it was good.
" Guess what I did today", she asked, and without time for me to ask a single question she blurted," I drove, and I have a new boyfriend".
Do you remember the scene from "Father of the Bride" , where he listens as the little girl with pigtails announces that she has, "Met a man and he is wonderful and brilliant and we're getting married"? Yep that's pretty much how it went down. My precious silken haired girl in her Winnie the pooh jumper and saddle oxfords just announced to me that not only was she a road warrior but there was a boy thrown in for dramatic effect. I tried my best to be excited for her. These are exciting times full of new curves in the road of life. Even as I told her of my excitement for her, my eyes burned with small tears and my heart sank a little.
When my man came home, I decided that it might come better from her, partly because the words were stuck somewhere in my throat. Once again I saw his face go pale. "Do you want me to get your phone and dial Pa for you?", I asked.
These next few years will be packed full of moments like this, I am sure. There will be many prayers, many pale faces, most likely a tear here and there. There will be many more conversations between the men in my life, about whose legs to break. Hopefully she will come through without too many scars on her heart or body. Hopefully we will make it through unscathed as well, because I am pretty sure that a few mornings from now I will wake up and my little girl in tights and a jumper will announce to us that she has met someone wonderful and brilliant and they are about to set off in a wonderful new direction. And not too far after that my beloved will receive a call from her beloved asking curfew advice for their sweet little one.
We will have many more conversations like this on our journey through parenting. I know that it will be different the each time, with each child. Life is truly a journey. There are curves and bends and hills before us. We try to be mindful of the street signs and potholes and we will defiantly be watching out for the 14 year old drivers in the cars with the "student driver" sign on the roof.

of prayers and babies and knowing

I have been wanting to write this post for awhile now. I have prayed for the right words to say. I have written it and re-written it in my mind . I have written it and re-written it on my computer. I wouldn't say that I have agonized over it, but I have searched for words to write that convey the thoughts in my mind. I tend to edit myself, sometimes more than necessary, sometimes less than necessary. I think because the thoughts I want to convey are so deeply felt, I do not want to make light of them. I want so much for you to understand just how deeply I feel these things, and how true these things are in my life. This post may turn into a road trip of sorts, so just hang on, and hopefully we will all arrive at the destination we are meant to.
A year ago this past Christmas I was hospitalized. During this time my doctor suggested that it would be best to have a hysterectomy. I can at times be a touch over dramatic. Those of you who know me and are reading this will most likely laugh at that and say to each other,"Yep, remember the time she....". At least I can admit it myself, right? Anyway, knowing that about myself can be a blessing and a curse. When I started feeling ill, I tried to convince myself that there was really nothing wrong, that surely I would arrive at the ER and would promptly be sent home with the diagnosis that I had eaten too much Christmas fudge. That turned out to not be the case. After four or so days, a blood transfusion and more medicine than would be sufficient to put a cow into a coma, I went home to think it all over. As the drug haze cleared and I was actually able to pronounce the word hysterectomy without mumbling, it hit hard. Please don't take this the wrong way. I am blessed and I know it. Thousands of people daily are told that they have a short time to live. Thousands more are told that they are about to enter a battle with a disease that they cannot pronounce. Worse than that thousands of parents are told that there children are ill. Please understand that I realize just how lucky I was to be told that what I had could be fixed with a rather routine procedure. It was, at the time, very difficult for me.
As we went about scheduling the surgery, deciding which grandparents would be on baby duty which days, and planning time off for my husband, my mind was constantly running in circles. It was a strange feeling. My sweet man and I felt that our family was complete. Somehow, though, the difference between choosing not to have another child and not being able to, was a big one. I was frightened that I would not survive the surgery. I can't really explain it, I was just scared. I prayed that I would survive. I was worried that my husband would think of me differently. I prayed that his love for me would remain. I was sad that I would never again feel the kicks and rolls of an infant in my belly. I was sad that I would never again hear my own newborns first cry and look into their eyes for the first time. And so I prayed for babies. I prayed that I would hold a newborn, even if it wasn't mine. That I would hear the gentle squeaks and smell that sweet head. People ask where I see God. I see him everywhere. In blades of grass and even in the wind. That being said there is no proof more magnificent to me than a newborn baby. These precious creatures that the Lord knows long before they are a glimmer in their parents eyes. I prayed for babies.
All of my prayers were answered. My prayers are always answered. Sometimes they are answered in His way and not the way I would have chosen, thankfully, but in this case, as they always are, they were all, once again, answered above and beyond what I had asked. The surgery went well. My recovery time was quick and much less painful than I expected. When the pathology returned a few weeks after the surgery we were stunned to find that we had dodged a bullet that previous tests had missed. Once again, as He always does, My God knew before I did just what he had in store long before it was revealed to me. My husbands love was steadfast and unchanging. My children were well cared for and happy with their grandparents. My Dad visited to help, and the time we spent together was more a gift to us both than I can put into words. As far as the babies? That, is the destination, and the purpose of this post.
Last fall I was reading my friends blog, http://http://www.mom2drew.blogspot.com//. Her blog has been such a blessing and has led me to places that I would not have known otherwise, including introducing me to the first baby. In this particular post she introduced me to the blog Bring the Rain. (http://www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com/) She mentioned that we should head over and start from the beginning. Knowing my dear friend well enough to know that I should follow her directions, over I went. I will say here that you should head over and you absolutely should start from the beginning. I will add that you should get comfy, brew a pot of your favorite coffee or tea, turn off the phone, grab a box of tissues and prepare for your heart to be changed forever.
This blog is written by a woman named Angie Smith. Her husband Todd Smith is a singer for the Christan group Selah. If you have ever heard the song "Your Raise Me Up",sung by Josh Groban, you have got to listen to it sung by this band. It will give you crazy goosebumps. I don't want to share too much of the story of this sweet baby, Audrey Caroline, because I truly want you to read it through Angie's words, but I will give you a short back story. While on an ultrasound visit, the Smiths were told that there daughter would not survive. Upon receiving the news that is more devastating than I am able imagine, her doctor asked her what she was feeling. Her reply, was,"I think MY Jesus is the same as He was before I walked into this room." I find that to be a profound statement and even more profound, given the circumstances under which it was spoken. It resonated in my heart. They prayed for a miracle, that their daughter's earthly life, as short as God would chose for it to be, would be a blessing and would have deep meaning. It does. You can see by the comments made and by the count of hits on the blog that this little girls life has been a blessing to so many lives. God has used this small child and her precious parents to shine the light of His love on countless hearts. This tiny baby, who's mother I will most likely never meet and who I will never hold on earth has made an impact on my life that will continue. It is my hope that her story will do the same for you. I pray for this family. I pray that her message will continue. I pray that God will heal their hearts. I pray that, while I cannot provide words of comfort, that God will give their hearts that peace which does pass all understanding. I pray that they do realize just how deep and profound an impact this little girl has had on the lives of so many. This past Tuesday was her first birthday, and while her parents were not able to celebrate with her here on earth, I know that there was much rejoicing in heaven.
Through this blog I was introduced to yet another baby. His name is Stellan, and you can read his story at http://www.mycharmingkids.net/. I remember the first time my eyes fell on this sweet boy in a picture on the sidebar of his mother, Jennifer's, blog, that he has knowing eyes. To be completely truthful, I don't really know what that means. It was the first thing that came into my mind. I thought of the times I have heard someone call a child an old soul. I do not believe in reincarnation, but I know what they mean, and this child's eyes show it. He has a smile that would light up a room. His face, to me looks like he holds all of the mysteries. He is just precious. When you visit this blog you will see that his parents, just like Audrey's, were given devastating news. They prayed for a miracle. That miracle was given. More recently however, some major health issues have risen. His mother posts daily of news, of medicine , of diagnoses, and prayer requests. Again I pray. I pray that God will heal this little boy. I pray that He will give Stellan's parents that same peace. God knows the plan. He has it all laid out. They do not know the outcome, but they have given their son to God, whatever his plans may be.
In these times when we all have our calendars stacked with activities. Where it is easy to think that we are in control, but we are shown so often that we are not, I find peace and comfort in knowing that He carries me. He carries us all. I have no doubt or question about this fact. Looking back on my life I see so many times that He carried me. Times where if one thing hadn't happened the way that it did I would have missed something spectacular. There are times when I knew in that moment that I was carried,there are other times still, where I can look and see where I thought I was walking alone at the time, I see now so easily that it was my God, once again carrying me. One of the greatest blessings of my life is to know this. Just as if you asked Angie, or Jennifer, or so many others, there are so many times in this life when we don't see what's next. We don't see an end to suffering, or solutions to problems. We don't have the answers to the questions we ask. We don't know the wheres or the whys or the whens. It is not always for us to know, until the time in which is revealed. We are lucky though, because we know the Who. We know that it is Him. It is the Jesus who is the same no matter the circumstances. Our Jesus is the same whether we are dancing with joy, or shuddering from grief. He is there in our strength and our weakness. He is there, in the big picture and fine print. He is there. All we have to do is call on Him. All of the times in life when we want so much to be able to fix things. We want to fix them for others and for ourselves. We try, and so many times we fail. We are human. We have no superpowers. There have been so many times in my life where I would have given everything I have to have just the right thing in my arsenal to say or do just the right thing to fix something for someone. The picture then becomes perfectly clear. I have all of the arsenal I need. It surrounds me. He is my arsenal and I need nothing else than Him. And because of this I don't need to say just the right thing or fix anything all on my own. I can lift up a name along with others who do the same thing and He will take care of the details. Because of Him, women who would otherwise be strangers, become sisters. Because of Him, babies who I will never hold in my own arms, I will hold in my heart instead. I can lift up their names and the names of the parents and the doctors and He, again,will handle the details. This is a gift more amazing than any other. His love, His graciousness, His arms that carry me every single day, His peace, all of these things that I receive as absolutely undeserved gifts. I find it staggering to absorb. But it is there, and it is real. I feel it deep in my soul and carry it in my heart. The most amazing thing about it all as that the gift is free for the taking. He will give it to anyone who asks. Just as we run when we hear the cries of our own children, He is there waiting for us to call on Him, and he picks us up and heals us and carries us home.
I must mention that in addition to the blessings that Audrey Caroline and Stellan have been, my prayers have been answered even further by the recent birth of my niece Mila and by the upcoming births of another niece and the baby of one of my dearest friends. Come this Thanksgiving you will find that my arms and my heart will be full of babies. I will hold them and kiss them and sniff their sweet heads, and of course I will pray for them, that they will one day, come to know the amazing love that they have available to them.


I wanted to let you know, that in addition to prayer, we are able to help Stellan's family financially as well. I have added a button to my side bar. Click on the Praying for Stellan button on the top of the sidebar. This link will take you directly to Jennifer's blog and on her sidebar you will find a button for donations. Another way still, is that Jenifer's friend has started donations through Etsy sellers. I am joining this in an effort to help, because I have, so many times been helped by others. You can go to etsy.com, or click on my Etsy shop on the sidebar. This will take you directly to my shop. If you don't find something that is your style, just search Stellan and you will find other Etsy sellers who are joining as well. It is a great opportunity for all of us to help. All donations made from my store will be made in Audrey Caroline's name. Thanks ahead of time.
May you know blessings beyond your wildest imagination!
Anneliese