Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Swim Suit Shopping, OB Visit, and Teeth Pulling -- A Three-Way Tie

I don’t know of any woman who eagerly looks forward to going to her OB for her annual exam OR for her mammogram, but it is a necessary evil. And I do mean NECESSARY. If you don’t go every year and don’t get a mammogram, then shame on you. If you don’t take care of yourself, no one else can. It ain’t fun, but it can save your life so you can be the momma you are supposed to be to the people who need you the most. Get off your behind and call your OB NOW! Ok, I will come of my soap box.

I rank going to the OB and having to buy a swimsuit right up there with teeth pulling. It AIN’T PLEASANT, and IT AIN’T PRETTY! I was going to go with my girlfriend shopping but when that fell through, I invited my mom to go along. I’m used to her laughing at me…although she promised she wouldn’t. My issues with one-piece swimsuits are as follows:

1. I’m long-waisted (If it fits at the bottom, then it comes up under my boobs…not exactly the type of support I’m looking for – my apologies to the guys who read my blog)

2. If I get a one piece that fits the girls, then the bottoms are so large that fish could swim in and out

3. If I get one that fits the bottom, the girls runneth over

So, really I have no real choice but to buy a two piece.

So, I go to a tankini. The top fits, and I find a matching bottom, but I really don’t like the way the top of my legs look. And I most certainly don’t like my legs touching together. So, I found a cute swim short by Nautica and found a cute top to go with it that doesn’t dip down at all. Some of you might think a little dip isn’t that bad, but if I’m wearing a swimsuit and the boy is around, I really don’t know what will cross his mind, and I have to be prepared.

So, I found a cute red and white polka-dot one piece, and tried it on for grins…yeah, it didn’t work. Then I stumbled onto swim shorts! But trying to find my size was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I was on my knees praying out to God, “Please let them have my size.” If you live in Shreveport and you hid your swim shorts in Dillard’s swimming section and you can’t find them – I did. Love these. They are athletic looking and cute – check. Tried a few on until I found one that fit. Now I needed to find a top. Mom stayed in the dressing room while I walked around the swimsuit section wearing my newly discovered swim shorts. During my ever-so-focused shopping for a top, I heard the saleswoman ask another dejected, downtrodden woman, “Did you find anything you like?” The woman chuckled, “This is my 16th one to try on. I think I’m just going to have to go with it. I think I need a drink. Is it too early to get a drink?” God love her and bless her heart – if you’re Southern, you know what those mean.

I think they should put special mirrors in women’s dressing rooms where women will be trying on swimsuits. Each room should have special “filtered” mirrors, and the doors could be labeled so you would know which one to enter. “If you are big bottomed, enter here.” You enter, get dressed, and the mirror minimizes and helps shape your asset…let’s just say. “If you are pigment challenged, enter here.” You enter, get dressed, and the mirror gives your skin a healthy tint of color. “If you have a pudge, enter here.” You enter, get dressed and the mirror smoothes that pudge right on out like you had been pressed by an iron. Instead, I hurriedly tried on the different possibilities and quickly selected what I feel to be the least offensive. If you happen to have to see me in my swimsuit, you must have a lot of sin in your life and this is your punishment. Repent! Repent! You know, if they used filtering mirror, women would leave those dressing rooms feeling good about themselves and wouldn’t mind spending that ungodly amount for a swimsuit that they will only wear a couple of times during two months of the year.

AND THAT BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER THING -- the cost of getting a new swimsuit. OH MY WORD! For something I can use for one season of the year, the cost is outrageous! I could easily eat my comfort food every day for 1 ½ months and get more pleasure, and it wouldn’t cost as much. I don’t guess I realized how rare Spandex and Lycra are. Personally, I think it’s just wrong…just wrong.

Unlike some of my young’uns who might post a picture of themselves on Facebook or their blog of them in a bathing suit, I choose to save you the cost of counseling. Use your money more wisely…go buy some scoops from Baskin Robbins and think of me.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

There's No Fungus Among Us...So, What It is

My children have the most beautiful olive complexions. We use sunscreen, and even still they both get just beautiful tans during the summer months. That’s why within the past month I noticed white splotches on Pearcey-Poo’s face. He is always outside. The heat doesn’t seem to affect him like it does me. I could be proned to swooning if I stay out too long. I don’t know how Scarlett O’Hara ever wore all that garb on days like today. But when Pearce comes inside his cheeks are pink and his splotches are very white…almost like he’s trying to look like his parents.

You know, I wish I was dark enough for someone to notice I had white splotches, but instead, I’m one big white splotch with a lot of little dark spots. Kinda like is a zebra white with black stripes or black with white stripes, or are dalmations white with black spots or black with white spots? I guess that’s neither here nor there (whatever that cliché means).

At any rate, Pearce doesn’t have a fungus, but if either of my children were going to have one, he would be the one to get it. Instead, like his sister, the white splotches are akin to ezcyma. It doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t itch. I mainly took him, so I would have peace of mind, and now I do.

Now on to prepare my psyche to go swimsuit shopping tomorrow. A friend of mine has offered to come because she is convinced I will be laughing with her instead of crying. I think most likely she’ll be laughing, and I will be sighing and rolling my eyes. I’d say photos to come, but I wouldn’t want anyone to lose their appetites or go blind or need therapy.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Is HAVING to go buy a SWIMSUIT -- Pray for the Salesperson

Shopping for swimsuits is not what I consider fun shopping. I count it at the top of my personal torture list. I cannot tell you when the last time I went and bought a swimsuit. I avoid it at all costs. People think because of my build or shape that swimsuit shopping would be no big deal, but they would be oh soooooo very wrong.

Those of us who are “pigment challenged,” “critically Caucasian,” or “translucent” avoid the sun at all cost. When I am out at a pool, I’ve been known to blind airplane pilots that fly overhead. Birds have had head-on collisions. My friends ask me to lay a certain way so as to reflect a more intense sunbeam in their direction. And now that I have crested the hill and am in my 40s, things that were once solidified have become…how shall I say it, gelatin.

The perfect swimsuit for me would solidify me and suck up the stuff around the middle, support the girls, and be of such a color that it would make me look like I have some melanin in my skin. I don’t want a high cut, low cut swimsuit, and I sure don’t want a bikini! I would traumatize my children even more than I already have.

The reason I’m shopping for a swimsuit is because my daughter and I are going on a mission trip and will have an opportunity to swim. Personally, I think seeing me in a swimsuit would frighten enough young girls into salvation. Praying, “Please Lord, don’t let me look like that in a swimsuit!”

When I was little, I spent a lot of time outside, and I got freckles…a lot of freckles. My hopes as a child and teenager is that I would have enough freckles that they would one day connect and give me one wickedly, savage tan, but alas, that did not happen. BUT, my freckles did provide entertainment for my sister in church by giving her plenty of dots to connect with her pen.

So, if you are in Dillard’s anytime in the next week or so and you hear sighs of exasperation, gales of hysterical laughter, or an ongoing conversation with only one voice participating say a prayer and walk far, far, far away. If you know my husband’s cell number, you may want to let him know.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

A Hungry Kid

Pretend with me for a moment, will you?

You are on a trip by yourself to visit an old friend, and you stop for lunch to eat at this little country diner on the side of the road in no place special. You decide to eat at the counter. As you are perusing the menu, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. It’s a little boy with his hands and face pressed against the glass looking inside at the customers. You put your menu down as you watch the little boy’s eyes go from table to table. He can’t be more than 7 or 8. The waitress comes up to take your order, “What will it be, Hon?”

“Tell me about the little boy at the window. Do you know him? Is he looking for his parents?”

“No. He’s a neighborhood kid.”

“Well, why is he at the window?”

“I’ll tell the cook to shoo him away.”

“No, don’t do that. Just tell me why he’s there,” you say.

“I don’t know the whole story, but he’s probably hungry. I’ve seen him going through our dumpster and eating the food out of it.”

You are horrified. Where’s his momma? Why doesn’t he have food at home? You have so many questions, but the waitress has turned to go take another order. You step down from your stool and walk outside. “Will you do me a favor?” you ask. “I don’t like eating alone. Would you be my guest? You sure would be helping me out if you would.”

Shyly the boy follows you into the diner, and you show him where the restroom is so he can wash up. He returns, and you begin asking him what he’d like to eat. You place the order.

Is that something you could see yourself doing? I could see myself doing that very easily.

But what if the one peering in the window isn’t a little boy but a homeless person, a person who has been beaten up by the world and been spit out on the curb? What if the person looking in the window is a woman who has bruises on her face and arms? What if the person was covered with tattoos and piercings? How does your answer change? “Well, I’d be worried about my security.” You are in a very public place. There are still ways to get a meal to that person standing on the outside of the window.

God creates every human being on this planet the same way as the next. The ground at the base of the cross is LEVEL. “For ALL have sinned,” Romans says. They may have made bad decisions in their lives that brought them to this point, but they might not have. WHO ARE WE TO JUDGE? If God leads you to a person to whom you are to minister, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR OBEYING. He is responsible for everything else. I challenge you to read Matthew 25:34-45, and then I challenge you to pray and ask God to open your eyes to see those in front of you, so you may see them the way He sees them. If you pray this, He will answer, and if He answers then you will become responsible to act.

Serving as He leads requires us to see the people He puts in front of us the way He sees them and then to minister to them as He leads us. What happens next is all up to Him…What will you allow Him to do through you?

This is an exert from my lesson today.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Child Swap Experiment -- Day 2

Would 48 hours make a difference? The kids actually wanted to swap siblings for 5 days, but prior commitments prevented that from happening. On Tuesday at 3 PM, I picked Pearce up from Lori and Michael’s, and Catherine and Erin were delivered to their house by our babysitter. Once I collected the two children God had given me and was headed home, I asked each of them what was the best thing about the past 2 days. Erin said playing with Catherine and going to the movies. Pearce said playing with Madeleine and playing in the sprinkler. Erin quickly added that she missed her brother though. She said she still wanted a little sister but didn’t want to give up her brother. Pearce said he missed playing the Wii with Erin. The warm fuzzy feeling lasted about an hour until Pearce in his exhaustion had a meltdown. He was in bed and asleep by 6:10 PM. This adventure had worn him out.

Lori and I do a lot of single parenting due to the jobs our husbands have, and when we are together, Lori and I do what we call “cross parenting.” It doesn’t matter if it’s my kid or hers, if I catch them then I get onto them. If she sees the need to discipline, then she takes care of business regardless of the child. It works for us. When the older ones were smaller, we were together so often that it was common to hear them get confused and call one of us “Aunt Mommy.” I’m so thankful to live so close to my family and to have such a wonderful relationship with them. We also try to use the “RAPTURE AND TRANSFORMATION form of discipline.” That is when you rapture the child away from the situation to transform their behavior by whatever means is the most effective. I remember being raptured out of church one time as a child, so my daddy could transform my behavior – it makes an impression. On more than one occasion I have escorted Pearce out of a situation or place. His high-stepping or tiptoeing out to be transformed has made an eye-opening impression on him as well.

Each of our kids is so different, and it’s been interesting to see them develop and relate to one another.

• Erin is the oldest of the four and is VERY phlegmatic with a dose of sanguine…meaning she is laid back and her sense of comedic timing is impeccable. She talks incessantly. She and Madeleine are in the same grade, and up to now, we have requested separate teachers. We did this after we heard that Erin was convincing the kids on the 3 year old playground that she and Madeleine were twins. We thought they needed to have their own friends, since they were always together anyway.

• Madeleine is the melancholy of the group…ever the serious one who likes things to be in order. She can be silly at times, but she’s more prim and proper than Erin ever thought about being. Madeleine would never go out in public and not match – this little issue doesn’t seem to bother Erin.

• Pearce is the only boy in the group and is primarily choleric with a touch of sanguine. He will be a charismatic leader one day. He is an instigator, agitator, and aggravator of the girls (primarily Erin). He is one who has known what he wants out of the world since he was a little person, and whoa be to the person who gets in his way which is normally me.

• Catherine is the sanguine with a dose of choleric. Catherine is very matter of fact, and she cracks me up. She finds beauty in Mohawks and gold teeth. She loves her monster trucks, dinosaurs and baby dolls. And just when you think she can’t surprise you, she opens her mouth and out it comes. She can also hold a grudge like nobody’s business…

Being able to accept the differences in each other has been trying at times for them, but they work it out. Learning to accept each other, working out differences, and forgiving one another is what family does. Family is about teamwork. If there is a self-centered person in the mix, the family unit struggles, but when we put Jesus first and others second, the family can flourish.

It’s fun to think that our kids think that their lives are “normal.” Lori and I thought our family was normal when we were growing up, but when we became adults we realized just how different our family was. We were a family who accepted different characters to be part of its membership. We were a family who pulled together when there was a crisis – each one doing what they can to contribute. We were a family who made it through the hard times thanks to our relationships with God and each other.

I’m sure we will do other experiments along the way. Some will be at the suggestions of the kids like this one, and some will be from us as the parents. Here is to living and learning from one another!

Monday, June 20, 2011

Day 1 of Child Swap Experiment

 Well, it’s been 24 hours since Lori and I traded our youngest kids because Erin has always wanted a little sister, and now she has Catherine. I think Erin is enjoying this because Catherine allows her to Mother Hen her.

Today at work, I saw two locust shells. I immediately thought of Pearce who would absolutely love that kind of thing, so I picked them up and brought them home. Upon arriving home, we had to load the garbage to take it to the dump, and as Erin was entering the front passenger door, she let out a little scream. This, I was expecting. She said she would ride in the back seat with Catherine. I asked Catherin if she like locust shells. She said, “I think I like them from afar.” Then we were off to the dump for we do not live in the city limits. Once there, Erin got out of the truck to unload the garbage, and Catherine did not want to be left out. She said she had never been to the dump before, and she wanted to help. So, out she came and threw a couple of air filters in the dumpster. Pleased with herself, she hopped back into the truck and back home we go.

By the time we got home, Catherine had warmed up to the idea of holding one of the locust shells. Erin finally worked up the nerve after I repeatedly and continually told her there are no live bugs inside, and after I pinky promised that I would not make any sudden noises to startle her. I’m saving the second shell for Pearce. After talking to Lori, I found out that Pearce had his toe nails painted (which isn’t the first time) and had been playing famously with Madeleine including brushing Madeleine’s hair and her American Girl doll’s hair. Then a site that has never been seen in their house, Madeleine strapped on a side-arm. Mind you, the gun is pink, but still she was wearing a gun on her hip…thanks to Pearce. Am I worried about Pearce brushing a doll’s hair or Madeleine’s or having his toe nails painted? ARE YOU KIDDING ME! He has more testosterone and sure in his manhood than most teenage boys. If you get a mustache by the age of 2 and sideburns by 4… Plus, if you’ve ever read any of my previous blogs about the boy, you know he is 100% boy. For all the men who had older sisters...they know. This is just going to make him a better husband one day.

"Aunt Kris, there's a cricket in the den," Catherine says in her low, southern drawl. "Okay." She stands there with this look like, "Well, that didn't get me anything." Catherine says, "Aunt Kris, there's a cricket in the den. Will you come get it?" "Catherine, the cricket never hurt anyone. If you want to move it, go right ahead." She walks into the den. I overhear Erin telling Catherine, "Catherine, be brave. It won't hurt you to walk by it." After hearing Erin say it, I walk into the den and say, "Erin, go ahead and kill the cricket and put it in the trash." Well, that just sent her over the drama-meter. I said, "But Erin, be brave. It won't hurt you." I grin. Erin starts whining and dancing side-to-side as she prepares to smack this poor, defenseless cricket with Pearce's shoe. Pop. She lifts the shoe and makes her obvious disgust evident by even greater drama. I'm grinning. Catherine lowers some toilet paper on the squished corpse, and I tell Erin she needs to put it into the trash. "WHAT!?" So, another dance from side-to-side and a little whining, she scoops the insect up and runs wailing into the kitchen to put it into the trash. Hehehe. What a brave little girl I have.

One distinct difference between the boy and Cat-Cat are the complex sound effects that come out of Pearce’s mouth. He can make the sound of almost any gun and various cars. Regardless of the firearm -- Tommy gun, bazooka, AK47, pistol -- Cat-Cat is holding I hear her say, “Ka-pow, ka-pow.”

Two ways that Cat-Cat and Pearcy-Poo are alike are they are both strong-willed (that might be a bit of an understatement), and they both love their dogs.

Now, Catherine is serenading me on the piano, and I get to guess the name of the song. “Bethoven’s 5th Symphony?” I ask. “No, but you’re close. It’s Gracie’s Gift Song.” (Gracie is her dog.) More clammering of keys, “Bach’s Movement in G," I guess.  “No, THAT was Bethoven’s 5th, Aunt Kristy!” How much longer with Erin be in the bathtub!? “CATHERINE, YOU’RE TOO loud.” “Would you like me to play another?” “Oh, yes, but please do it quietly. My dog has sensitive hearing,” I say. OH THANK YOU, JESUS! Erin is out of the tub. One more song… “Oh, I have to sing? You will accompany me?” She nods. “Hit it,” she says. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let shine.”

After bath time, it’s a mean game of Uno with a couple pieces of chocolate. Now the chocolates are very special you see because the wrappers are gold. My Catherine believes gold teeth are the most beautiful teeth. She tells everyone who has them how much she likes them and how when she grows up she wants gold teeth. So this isn’t being disrespectful or making fun, this is Catherine having her dream a little early in her life.

AHHHH, now it’s quiet time. They are reading in Erin’s bed. The house gives a little sigh, and the dog whimpers. Good night, Sweet Girls, good night.

Love you, baby boy. See you tomorrow.

P.S. Catherine has spoken to Lori by phone once and asked to speak to her daddy once but got distracted. Have I heard from Pearce one time? NOPE. That's okay. Glad he feels secure to roam knowing where his home will always be.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Is Temporarily the Mother of Two Girls -- Don't Worry the Boy Knows His Way Home

Who of you has a family of people just like you? Who of you would want a family of people just like yourself? I would drive MYSELF crazy! But sometimes our family members can drive us crazy too.

I like for things to match, coordinate, go-together. Erin – not so much. I like peace and serenity at times. Pearce – not so much. I like things organized and put where they belong. Patrick – not so much.

My daughter decided she was tired of having a brother, so she has talked my sister’s youngest into being her sister. The plan is to switch Pearce for Catherine for a couple of days in an experiment of sorts for the older girls. Madeleine and Pearce actually do get along quite well, and Erin and Catherine are kindred spirits. After the arrangements were made today at lunch we were driving home when Pearce said, “So, Mom, what are you going to do without me?” AHHHH, soak in a hot tub of water and not wonder what mischief you are into, read a book without occasionally looking up, maybe do some of my seminary work that I’m behind on. “Pearce, I have no idea what I’m going to do without you!”

So in exchange for my rough and tumble boy, I get Catherine, and while she may look cute and sweet, she is a force to be reckoned with. She is hysterically funny and strong-willed, plain spoken and has an opinion. She loves Mohawks and gold teeth. She is one of a kind. And since I am Catherine’s ONLY aunt, I get to be the fun aunt, the crazy aunt, the funny aunt, etc. Last time she stayed with me, I gave her a Mohawk. This time, we are going for the gold tooth! Pictures to follow.

Erin has always wanted a little sister. As a matter of fact, when we were going through the adoption process for the second time, our social worker came to the house. It was her first time to meet Erin who was about 3 years old. Erin said she would give the tour of the house, and when Erin got to her room, she opened the door with one hand and with her other she did a Vanna White scan across her body. “This is my bed, and this is my sister Sarah’s bed,” she told the social worker. At the time Erin had two twin beds. The social worker said, “Well, Erin, you could have a baby brother.” “No,” Erin said, “I’m going to have a baby sister, Sarah.” Not that Sarah isn’t a lovely name, but it just wasn’t on our short list for girl names. As a matter of fact, we didn’t have a short list of girl’s names because I was confident God was going to give us a boy. A week or two before Pearce was born, we bought Erin a doll that favored her and told her that the baby doll’s name was Sarah. She was thrilled. Now, to show you that God intended for us to have Pearce, the boy. Pearce’s birth mother’s name is Sarah, and he was born on her birthday. Yes, that is a God thing. It’s also how we tell Erin and Pearce that we know that Pearce is the one God chose to complete our family. So, the fact that Erin is still harping on wanting a little sister is of no surprise, but the fact that she convinced Catherine to be her little sister was quite clever.

I love the fact that my kids love to spend time with their cousins. I wish they had more time with the cousins from Patrick’s side, but that’s another story for another day. I remember spending a week or two with my cousins in Longstreet, raising horses down the pipeline, getting the eggs from the hen house every day, catching tadpoles from the trough, and having my hair braided and wrapped like Princess Leah. Lori and I would stay with my grandparents and spend our days with cousins running barefoot. Fond memories. I remember spending the holidays with the cousins on my mom’s side of the family. They would come for a week at a time during the summer, and we would go to Hamel’s. Do you remember Hamel’s? Some of my best childhood memories are at that park. There were bumper cars, tilt-a-whirl, roller coaster, waterlog ride, the yo-yo, and merry-go-rounds. We even had shirts to wear from Hamel’s. OH! Can’t forget the go-carts! If you were to compare the cousins on my mom’s side and the cousin’s I have on my dad side…well, you really can’t compare because they are all sooooo vastly different. One isn’t better than another. They’re just different.

Cherish the family you have been given…no matter how crazy they might drive you. There is no replacement for family – good, funny, crazy, different. You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family. Just goes to show that God DOES have a sense of humor.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Has Had Conversations to Cherish with my kids and Some I don't Cherish

She stood by the toilet paper dispenser in their bathroom with her hands on her hips contemplating the roll that was sitting on top of the dispenser. “Do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?” For a split moment, I grinned. Then I opened my mouth, and the words that tumbled out of my mouth were words that had been uttered in the 80s when I was in my youth. “Let see here, I go to the grocery story, cook the food, sort the laundry, wash, dry and fold the laundry, help you with your homework, pay the bills, clean the kitchen, drive you and your brother everywhere you need to go. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you do around here, and then I’ll finish my list.” Silence… Crickets... She was trying out the attitude, and it had not gone over well for her at all. When I was telling my sister about the interchange she asked, “Is she still with us?” Dr. Dobson said parenting isn’t for sissies, and I say parenting isn’t to be done without a support group! I laughed and told her that she is for now.

I’m sooooooo not ready for puberty. The taste we have received so far makes me dread what is going to come in the years ahead. The emotional roller coaster. The drama, or as Pearce says as he’s walking through the den, “Dwama, dwama, dwama.” I don’t have the heart to tell him this is just the beginning, and it will get worse before it gets better.

In our home, our children have responsibilities they must complete before they can have privileges that include music, television or play time. Responsibilities include taking care of their person (brushing teeth, hair, getting dressed), cleaning their room and their side of the bathroom, switching over the laundry, folding the laundry and putting it away. They are also responsible for loading and unloading the dishes and cleaning off the table. Yes, even my six year old does them. Erin has learned to make oatmeal, scrambled eggs and popcorn in the microwave. Pearce waters the plants and makes sure the dog is fed and watered. We don’t pay them for these because we see this as being part of living in a family. They get paid for their job – earning good grades at school. Sometimes if we have extra jobs around the house and they are wanting to earn money, then we offer it to them first.

I’m sure there are some that are better at this parenting-thing, but this is what we’ve come up with so far. Now, if we could just find a way to manage the attitude and raised voices. We talk about exercising self-control, and there are consequences for not exercising self-control. Some consequences are natural. Others we have to make along the way. It’s okay to have emotions, and we expect them to feel them and share them, but there is a better way than raising a voice or with an attitude.

I love the fact that both of our kids feel like they can talk to either of us. Pearce talked to me last night about his adoption and his birth mom…what a tender, sweet conversation. Absolutely love those conversations from the heart.

I’ve been asked if our children know they are adopted. Ever since I started telling stories to Erin her birth story has been part of the repertoire, and the same goes for Pearce. I love telling them their stories, and it has fascinated me as to the questions they ask at different times in their lives. I use the same verbiage – birth mom, biological sibling, birth father, etc. Things they understand on a simple level will go deeper as they age. I remember Erin asking me, “What does biological mean?” These are the conversations I cherish.

What conversations do you cherish with your children or grandchildren?

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Trim Molding, Rope, a Bungee Cord, a Tool, a Couple of Sticks, and a Whistle -- ALL ON MY ROOF

We have a garden that Pearce and I planted. It’s not a very big garden nor a very good garden for our rows are not straight…as a matter of fact, we don’t have rows. It’s kinda willy-nilly. Pearce would say, “This looks like a good place for one,” and there it was planted. I’m grinning, of course.

Tonight as I was watering our willy-nilly, wilting garden, I glanced over my right shoulder because something attracted my attention to the roof. The valley needs to be cleaned, but I don’t dare show Pearce how to get up on the roof or how to do that job. If you’ve read any of my prior post, you understand my reasoning. Then my eye scanned the roof over our craft room, and I had to do a double-take. Since I wasn’t really sure of what I was seeing, I went to inspect it once I had finished watering our willy-nilly wilting garden.

There on my roof were two pieces of trim molding, a rope, a bungee cord, a tool of some sort, a few sticks and a neon orange whistle. Let that soak in a moment. Knowing I have a boy of six any mom with boys will know immediately and exactly what happened, so I really didn’t have to ask for an explanation, but I just couldn’t resist. I walked to the back door and asked Pearce to get some shoes on because I had a question. His shoes were by the craft room door, and he said he would meet me out there. I went back and stood feet apart, hands resting on my hips, looking up at the roof. I heard Pearce make his way around the corner of the house, and when I looked down, his feet were apart, his hands were resting on his hips, and he was looking up at the roof. Then he looked at me and grinned that grin – Thank you, God, he’s so cute.

“Pearce, can you explain how that got up there?”

       “You see that whistle there?” We both looked up and saw the neon orange whistle.

       “Yes,” I said looking down into his precious, little, grinning face.

        “I was tryin’ to get it off the roof, and the other stuff got stuck.” I lost it. I cracked up laughin’. Do you realize that I didn’t ask how the whistle got on the roof? It’s like with attorneys, they don’t ask the questions they don’t want to know the answers too. For all I know, Pearce had lassoed a squirrel who deposited it on the roof. Plus, the point is rather irrelevant anyway. The point is the whistle was on the roof, and he was using all his ingenuity to get it down.

I’m not sure what caused him to give up on getting the whistle, but as I see it, he tried at least seven times to get that whistle down. Seven – the number of completion.

How many times do we see things just out of our reach, and we do so many tricks and stunts to get it into our grip only to lose everything trying to get that one thing. I wonder does God ever look down at us and think, “Thank goodness I made you so cute.” Does he ever grin or crack up laughing at our outrageous stunts or feats? Some things are just better kept out of our reach. We may not understand why, but our Father does. And sometimes we just have to trust that He knows best. Do you trust Him?

Friday, June 3, 2011

Is Still Grinning – Oh the Boy!

For those who are the parent of a boy, you will understand and see the humor in this post. For those who do not parent a boy, you may read this post and wonder, "What in the world!?" Such is the life I lead as the mother to a six-year-old, 100% boy.
 I am one of those moms. I do not believe in plugging my kids into video games or the TV. I believe it stifles their imaginations, creativity and makes a child fat and lazy. My kids get to watch tv, but it is limited. They have the DSI, but the time they spend playing it is very minimal. I say this to preface the rest of this post. You see, while my daughter is creatively playing school in her room in the air conditioning because she does not like to sweat, my son is having wonderful adventures outside.
 Every boy needs to live in a place where he can live and breathe the open air, where he can explore God's creation, and pretend and plan his domination of the world. That being said if you leave anything of value or in working order within their domain you run the risk of it being disassembled and/or utilized for a different purpose. My son has found paint before and painted the side of a boat we didn't own, a fence and other items outside the house including the brick on the outside of the house. His inventions can be found hidden in the dog kennel that is no longer used – I am not nearly creative enough to come up with a name for them or their purpose. Let's just suffice it to say, Pearce has used them all at some point in time to save the universe.
The most recent utilization of an adult tool was the pick ax…yes, the pick ax. I had purchased some hydrangeas, and I had planted all but two of them. There was a problem with the hole for those two. There was a massive root running through the middle of it. Pearce and I tried using our shovels. Yes, he has his own shovel and tool set. Doesn't every man-child? We couldn't break them. Then we tried to set the root on fire. That didn't work. Then before Patrick left, he laid out a different kind of shovel and a pick ax. The pick ax was the ticket. It worked, and I was able to tear the stubborn root out of the hole. The hydrangeas were planted, and the tools were laid against the house. I will not step foot in Patrick's workshop for MANY reasons.
 This week in one of Pearce's many adventures that involved my good ice chest, a mop, and some other ordinary household items, he decides to use the pick ax. I'm just thankful he didn't pick his foot. That would have just been a bloody mess! I'm not sure the target at which he was aiming, but he managed to hit my new, thick, water hose. He came into the house and explained that the hose had a hole in it. Like it spontaneously ruptured. "Pearce, how did it happen?" "It just popped open."

Being the trained investigator that I am and knowing he is untrained in the skill of lying, I went outside to find the pick ax laying beside said hole in the hose. Sometimes, you just can't help but grin. It completely explained why when he came in he was quite wet. Apparently, the hose was ON when said hole popped into existence. I would have LOVED to seen the look on his face when it happened.Tonight was my first experience with my newly, altered water hose. I turned the water on, and the water started shooting up out in two different ways. Apparently, young master Pearce had hit that hose TWICE! I'm still grinning. I pick up the handle and squeeze – barely a stream of water flows from the head, and it eventually ceases flowing period because all the water is coming out in opposite directions from the pick ax holes.

So, what does a mom of a boy do? You go down to the hole, pick up the hose and start watering your plants two at a time instead of the one at a time the way I used to do using the handle. Yes, I'm still grinning.