June Cleaver Would Be Shocked

Santa is on the move!

2011-12-24T08:48:00.000-08:00

I remember watching the news on Christmas Eve as a kid...our local station would give updates throughout the evening as to where Santa was on his route. I would watch with trepidation as he traveled closer and closer to the U.S., wondering how I'd ever get to sleep before he arrived.

It's easier to keep an eye on the big guy these days, since NORAD tracks Santa online. You can see everywhere he's been, where he's headed next, how long before he'll be there, even how many gifts he's delivered already. It's really pretty cool.

I usually wouldn't think to check so early in the day on Christmas Eve, but I did today...and was a little surprised to find that Santa is already on the move. He started at the North Pole (of course!) and then dipped southward to start in Russia.

Which, if you recall, is where Anastasia lives. Maybe still in an orphanage. But since she's already six years old, there's a good chance that she's been transferred to a mental institution by now.

Either way, it's no place for such a beautiful little girl to spend Christmas. And I wonder...does Santa stop wherever she is?

I sure hope so...but there's no way to know for sure.

Would you like to help "be Santa" for this sweet girl? All it takes is a few clicks to donate toward her adoption fund and help a forever family bring her home. Even if you can't donate right now, please say a little prayer for Anastasia - that this will be the last Christmas that she spends without a family of her own.

Wrapping up the 30 Days of Gratitude

2011-12-06T21:05:00.000-08:00

Well, we all know that I'm a slacker. I never imagined it would be so hard to post just one teensy little thing that I'm thankful for, for thirty days in a row. I suppose the real problem is that I tend to be wordy, and therefore unable to post just one teensy little thing.

At any rate, I made it through twenty days out of thirty, and I'll wrap it up with a quick list here.

21. Air conditioning. We never had it when I was a kid, and I stayed with people who did have it as much as I possibly could. When I grew up, I was sure to marry a man who likes his home just as frigid as I do.
22. Electricity. I probably could have survived without it, but I'm glad I don't have to find out.
23. My van, despite the money that blows through its gas tank.
24. My friends, because I really do have some wonderful ladies in my life. I've probably mentioned them already, but they're worth one more.
25. The good sense to research important issues for myself, rather than blindly following the recommendations of others (however learned they may seem.)
26. Ruffles, glitter, pink, and lace - because they remind me of my two biggest blessings.
27. Elwin, our Elf on the Shelf, who has become such a fun Christmas tradition. More about him later.
28. Reasonably good health. (I feel New Year's resolutions coming on already.)
29. My home. It's no palace, but I've lived here since I was a little kid, with just a few breaks in between. So many wonderful memories, and so many still to be made.
30. This blog - where I can procrastinate, vent, whine, use bad grammar, ramble pointlessly, and utterly mess up the HTML so that there's a ridiculous amount of space between lines (sorry about that), and it doesn't bother anybody but me.

So there you have it. Thirty things for which I am so very, very grateful.

And now, something for which I am not terribly grateful: the clock says 12:03 a.m., which means that it is officially December 7th here on the east coast. Today is my baby's last full day of being three. Tomorrow morning, before we even wake up (hopefully), she will be four. This does not please me. It beats the alternative, of course, but still...I have never handled my childrens' birthdays well, and this feels like no exception. Why must they grow up so quickly?!

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Twenty

2011-11-26T11:48:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for home and clothes and food, and thankful that I don't have to worry about these things. Not because I'm married to a wonderful man who works hard to provide them (although I am thankful for that too), but because my Father has promised to provide them for us. He may not deposit a paycheck into our bank account, but He'll provide the job. He may not do the grocery shopping, but He'll provide a means for food.

Matthew 6:25-26 tells us, "do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air: they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you much more valuable than they?"

Excellent point. But it doesn't stop there. "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?"

Lovely analogies, but verses 31-34 really drive the point home:

"So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."

I especially love the reminder that He knows we need these things. Of course he does - he made us! I know that my children need to eat, need to drink, need clothes and shoes and shelter, and I provide these things for them since they are unable to procure these necessities for themselves. That's what parents do. And my children absolutely take it for granted. They've never been hungry or cold or homeless - the things that they've needed have just always appeared.

God has done the same for me - and I am thankful to have a Father who is so attentive to our needs.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Nineteen

2011-11-22T08:11:00.000-08:00

Rachael became a Girl Scout in kindergarten. We found a Daisy troop and she loved it (especially since one of her friends was already in the troop.) She was such a doll in her little blue tunic, and was so excited about the things she was learning and doing - and the things we learned that she'd be able to do in the future.

After two years of Daisies, though, I was tired of driving to the other side of the county for troop meetings. Why was there no troop closer to home? Why hadn't someone started one?

So of course, I decided that I was the person for the job. I was quickly paired up with another local lady who had daughters in Scouts and was interested in starting a troop, so we started making plans. We saw eye to eye on nearly everything troop-related, and couldn't wait to get started.

Then she decided, very close to time for us to begin, that she had too much on her plate already. Homeschooling her kids, a baby on the way. Her commitment to Scouts would have to wait.

I understood, but I was so upset. She was going to be the perfect co-leader for me! No one else would be as good a match. How was I going to start a troop now?! I assumed I'd just have to do it all myself.

Then I got a phone call...there was another lady nearby that was also interested in leading a troop. Would I be interested in having her as my co-leader? Well, no. I wouldn't. Because I was still pouting over the loss of my former co-leader-to-be. But I said that I'd meet her and talk with her anyway. But if she wanted in, she was gonna do things my way, goshdarnit.

Yes, a bit of disappointment really created a bad attitude in me. Things were going wrong before they had even gotten started, and I was already wondering what on earth I'd signed up for.

Then I met her...and if the last person would have been the perfect co-leader for me, then Traci was SUPER MEGA PERFECT. Not only did we agree on absolutely every single aspect of how a troop should be run, what it should do, etc...but she even shared my somewhat warped sense of humor. They say that God never closes a door without opening a window, and I'm still thanking Him for this particular window! I can't imagine my life now without her as my friend, and I might not have met her if not for Girl Scouts.

So we started our troop in September 2010 with a handful of girls - and then watched, astonished, as more and more and more girls came our way. We decided that we'd only take 15 girls...then it was 20... Pretty soon, we were texting each other quite often to say, "there's just ONE MORE GIRL, and that's IT!" We both knew it was a lie - you can't have "just one more." If there was a girl that needed a troop, chances were excellent that we could squeeze her in.

That first year was certainly a learning experience. We did a few things the hard way, made a few mistakes, smiled and faked it quite often. The girls didn't seem to notice, which was a good thing. I quizzed Rachael after every meeting - did you have fun? what was the best part? what didn't you like? She was a great little adviser and cheerleader. And we were blessed with a fantastic group of moms that were helpful and supportive of our efforts as the troop grew and grew.

Now we're into our second year, and we have 29 girls in our troop. There is, of course, room for just ONE more!

We've had to make some adjustments as to how the meetings are run, now that there are so many girls. We've added a third co-leader, who also could not be more perfect for the "job." Chaos is usually kept to a minimum, and I'm pretty sure the girls are having fun. We've been to the pumpkin patch and in the Christmas parade already this year, we're planning a spring dance, and we'll be traveling to Washington, D.C., next summer to celebrate the 100th "birthday" of Girl Scouts. That is, of course, assuming that we survive another cookie season.

Helping to lead a troop isn't always a walk in the park...there's paperwork like you would not believe, hoops to jump through, meetings to plan, money to raise, accounts to balance, and far too many people to coordinate without lots and lots of planning ahead.

But I love it. The girls are fantastic, and so much fun to be around. I am so grateful for the time I get to spend with them. I'm grateful for their moms - several of whom were friends before they ever joined our troop, and even more that I wouldn't have had the opportunity to know (or know as well) if not for the troop. I'm grateful for the other Girl Scouts I've met because of our troop, and for being part of a world-wide sisterhood of Scouts.

And I can't wait to see what's coming next.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Eighteen

2011-11-22T07:34:00.000-08:00

I resisted the scrapbooking craze for a while. Rachael had a baby book that I vigilantly filled in with important dates and information, baby pictures and locks of hair, but I never felt compelled to scrapbook anything...until a good friend started scrapping. She came over one day with a ginormous bag full of scrapping equipment, and helped me make my very first scrapbook page. It was basic and not very pretty, but it was fun. So I started scrapbooking too.

It wasn't long before I had my own ginormous bag full of scrap goodies, paper piled to my knees, stickers and brads and sequins and flowers - and an album full to overflowing of pages that I was quite proud of.

Then Milly came along. With a newborn in the house, I just didn't have the time or the energy to drag out aaaaaall of that stuff every time the mood to scrap hit me. Even if I had gotten it all out during one of her naps, there was no way she would sleep long enough to let me finish a page and clean it all up again.

I had heard of people that did "digital scrapbooking" - making their pages in Photoshop (or a similar program), printing them, and putting them in the scrapbook. This just seemed wrong to me. Scrapbook pages needed layers, depth, texture.

But then Milly turned one. And I realized that I hadn't created one single page of her life. Not one.

That's when I decided that maybe I'd give this digital scrapbooking thing a try after all.

I already had Photoshop, and used it often to edit my pictures. How hard could digi scrapping be? I downloaded a few free kits (paper and embellishments) and got to work.

My first few pages were, admittedly, not very good. There is definitely a learning curve. But I kept practicing, looked at other people's pages, and scrapped, scrapped, scrapped. I scrapped holidays...

...I scrapped big events, like dances...

...I scrapped the little things, like a cute moment in Old Navy.

Heck, I even scrapped breakfast.

I scrapped EVERYTHING. Everything important, sweet, funny, or that I just plain didn't want to forget. I became a bit of a scrap addict - and I am grateful for it.

I'm still not good about printing them and putting them in albums. I'll get around to it someday. But for now, I have a hard drive overflowing with scrapbook pages - from before Rachael was born through the present - that my girls already love to look at. It's my hope that they'll have these as a reminder, when they're older, that their mommy cherished every single moment with them...enough to spend time documenting it for them. Their story is important to me, and it will be preserved. Maybe not in the way that I had originally intended, but in a way. I am grateful to have the tools, knowledge, and ability to scrapbook, and I love doing it for them.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Seventeen

2011-11-22T06:56:00.000-08:00

I am insanely grateful for laptop computers and wireless internet.

I should be even more specific and say high-speed wireless internet, because I am far too impatient for slow-net. I remember well the days of dial-up, when I would take a book with me to the computer so I had something to do while the pages loaded. It was wretched, and I don't care to relive it.

Now I can (and do) sit on my couch with my nifty pink laptop and check my email, waste time on Facebook, blog, scrapbook...and usually fairly quickly, so long as computer and internet are both cooperating. (That's been less and less often lately, as my laptop has some age on it and Comcast seems to be going downhill as well, but I'm still grateful!)

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Sixteen

2011-11-18T16:15:00.000-08:00

I am aaaaaaaaall kinds of grateful for my very own bed. I have long believed that there's nothing on earth that feels as good as burrowing under the covers of your own bed. I suppose that belief began as an elementary-schooler, when our house was heated only by a woodstove, located downstairs and on the other end of the house. When it was time to get up for school during the winter, it was still dark outside and my room would be freezing. There was nothing I wanted more than to just. stay. in bed.

This trend continued through middle school and high school, where it began to dawn on me that mornings just came too stinking early. Honestly, if it's still dark outside, it's not morning yet.

It was good preparation, I suppose, for when I'd have a job and be expected to show up on time. But I still didn't enjoy it. I dreamed of a day when I'd be able to wake up on my own - not to the annoying buzz of an alarm clock. It didn't seem that it would ever happen.

Then I became a mommy. I assumed that I would never see my bed again - or at least not for more than an hour or two at a time. However, I was blessed with a baby that didn't mind sleeping (so long as she was in the appropriate place, which was right beside me.) I can count the times that I was up with her in the middle of the night on one - yes, one - finger. She was that easy. We caught on fast that nursing and co-sleeping are a magical combination - and best yet, one that didn't require feet touching floor after bedtime.

And then I had another little girl. I don't even need any fingers to count the times that she kept me up all night. It simply didn't happen.

Rachael is a bit of a morning person, which is unfortunate. I don't tend to get along well with those, when forced to be in close approximation to them. She rolls out of the bed smiling and ready to face the day, but has (thankfully) learned to keep it to herself until Mommy is mostly awake.

Milly is indifferent; she gets up when she wakes up, neither in good mood nor bad. However, she quite often sleeps until *I* wake up, which is nice. No tiny dictators demanding my presence too soon.

Yes, I am grateful for my bed - and finally, for the opportunity to spend more time with it in the mornings. Don't wake me up while it's still dark outside unless my sheets are on fire.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Fifteen

2011-11-18T15:57:00.000-08:00

I am grateful for Great Value French Vanilla Cappuccino. Yes, I am.

I'm not a big coffee drinker (it has to be heavily flavored, and even then, it has to be the correct flavor), but this stuff is wonderful. It's less than $3 per can, and a can lasts for several weeks, so it's a cheap thrill.

The downside? Great Value = only available at Walmart. I am, unfortunately, not a great fan of Walmart and don't go there unless I absolutely have to. This often means that I run out of cappuccino and go for weeks without it, until I find myself in Walmart for something else, at which time I feel compelled to stock up.

Now that I think about it...some cappuccino sounds pretty good right about now...

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Fourteen

2011-11-14T21:06:00.000-08:00

When my friend sent me an email asking me to host a party for her new Scentsy business, I was less than thrilled. I had never even heard of Scentsy, and I haaaaated those parties. But I hadn't done one in forever, so maybe people would come, and I did want to help her get started...so I did. I had a party.

And about two-thirds of the way through the party, I was already pretty sure that I'd be signing up myself.

I did - in March 2010 - and I have been grateful for Scentsy ever since.

I had done the home party thing in the past - twice, actually - and sworn that I would never do that again. I'm so glad I took a chance on this one, though! It's turned out to be a nice little side income (not mega bucks, mind you, but it sure is helpful to have spending money once in a while) for very little work. In fact, I do more "basket parties" than anything - in which my hostess takes a bag full of samples, catalogs, and order forms, and collects her own orders - and those require pretty much no work on my part. Get the bag to her, get it back from her, put the orders into the computer, earn commission. Um, yes, I can certainly live with that.

I've done more home parties in the past month than I've done in the past year, and I'm starting to enjoy them more as well. Although I typically don't enjoy speaking in front of people that I don't know well, I've met some of the nicest people through my parties. I am grateful for them, and for the church friends that got the latest round of parties rolling.

Scentsy is helping (a LOT) with Christmas this year, and helping to pay for me and Rachael to accompany our Girl Scout troop to D.C. next summer - all while meeting new people (when I choose to) and enjoying a product that I truly love. Can't beat that!

(Shameless plug: if you'd like to know more about Scentsy, visit my website!)

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Thirteen

2011-11-14T20:55:00.000-08:00

I can't very well sing the praises of my parents and stepparents without mentioning the other parents, can I? Perhaps I'm a bit of an anomaly, but I actually am grateful for (insert Jaws music here) ... the in-laws.

That picture is actually entirely inaccurate, but I suspect that it's because my mother-in-law is actually hubby's step-mother. He was his mother's baaaaaaby, and were she still with us, I rather believe that she would be more critical of the way I treat her little precious. (That's not to say that we wouldn't get along. It's just...more iffy.)

As it were, my mother-in-law is rarely without a smile on her face. She's sweet and soft-spoken and very rarely critical, so long as we do not bring up the topics of homeschooling, non-vaxing, or attending a Baptist church. Even when she voices concerns, though, she manages to do it in such a sweet and loving way that it's easy to let it slide right off. She treasures my girls and believes, with every ounce of her being, that we also need a little boy in the family.

My father-in-law is a pretty great guy too. He's kind of a gruff guy and tends to be more vocal about his opinions, which has caused us to lock horns a time or two (basically consisting of my informing Gene that he needs to talk to HIS father about X situation), but he loves me and I love him. I especially love watching him get down in the floor and play with the girls, dance around his basement with them, and basically allow himself to look perfectly idiotic purely for their amusement.

Did I mention that my father-in-law is the one we call anytime anything breaks, because he can always fix it? Or that my mother-in-law makes the best chocolate icing in the world? (I keep telling her that she can just give me a bowl of icing on my birthday and forget about the cake, but she has yet to take me seriously. I am completely serious.)

I was very, very fortunate in the in-law department. I also got two wonderful sisters-in-law - neither of whom I see often enough. Being an only child and having always wanted a sister, I am particularly fond of them both...and the brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews that have come along with them.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Twelve

2011-11-14T20:37:00.000-08:00

I've gotten a little behind on being grateful, so let's catch up with the obvious "chaser" to my stepparent post...

I am, of course, terribly grateful for my Mom and Dad, whom I love very much.

Both of my parents are a special kind of crazy - but then, whose aren't? They both have quirks (most of which I seem to have inherited) and naturally, I've had ups and downs with both of my parents - but they have always, always been there for me, ready to bail me out and/or dispense sage advice (sometimes both, simultaneously.)

They taught me all of the important things I'd need to know to be a responsible adult someday - things such as never mix polka dots with plaid, a clean car runs better, cherish the gift of common sense (as it is very, very rare), and never pass up the opportunity for a good nap.

I was definitely blessed to have them as parents, but consider myself doubly blessed that I can now consider them both friends as well. Mom is a great shopping buddy (although she occasionally gets me in trouble by pointing out extra things that I absolutely need) and it's rare to talk to Dad on the phone for less than an hour. Mom is still the first person I call with news and complaints, and we love our ongoing Phase Ten tournament with Dad (who will not win this year) and my stepmom, Michele (who, knowing her, just might.)

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Eleven

2011-11-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

Most people have two parents. I have five. It's never seemed weird to me - my parents divorced before I was old enough to remember, and before you think "aww, I'm sorry," rest assured that it's okay. If it was going to happen anyway, I'm grateful that they got it over with before it caused any emotional damage on my end. Honestly, thinking of them together is what's strange.

It all worked out well - I had two very involved parents and don't harbor any repressed resentment toward either of them. And while I'll "be grateful" for both of them on another day, today I'm grateful for the three "extra" parents that I have because of them.

The first was my very own personal "wicked stepmother", who, truth be told, doesn't have a wicked bone in her body. In the 28-ish years that I've known her, I have never once seen her angry. A trifle irritated, perhaps, but never jumping-up-and-down, steam-out-the-ears, bring-me-her-heart-in-this-box mad. (That's big.) She had infinite patience with me when I was little - a fact that I appreciate all the more now that I'm older and have kids of my own. See, she was very young when she and my dad were married. She got a man with baggage, and I know that being a part-time stepparent couldn't have been easy. But she sure made it look that way. She always made me feel right at home, welcomed and loved, and even taught me several very important life skills (coming from a home where my mom rarely cooked, I probably couldn't toast my own Pop Tarts today were it not for my stepmom.) She's been there for every memorable milestone in my life, and I'm glad that she's "just" a grandparent to my girls - no step-anything, she's just always been there. She's the only grandparent that will willingly venture into the blast zone of Milly's bedroom to sit in the floor and play Barbies, which also leads me to believe that she's a courageous little thing to boot. I am so grateful for her, and that I can count her as a friend as well as a parent.

At around the same time, I gained my first stepfather. (That sounds really bad. It's not...just keep reading.) He was a good bit older than my mom. His three kids were already grown - in fact, his son was six weeks older than my mom. He drove a dump truck and had a bushy beard and seemed so old, and he didn't have a lot of patience for discipline. I was expected to mind my manners, and as long as did, all was well. My mouth got me in trouble a few times as a kid, but overall, we got along well. My relationship with him definitely improved as I got older, and by the time I was a teenager, he was a great guy to have around. He introduced me to Saturday Night Live (back when it was still pretty good) and Sherlock Holmes and jazz music, and was only marginally disappointed when I chose to play the saxophone over his favorite instrument, the trumpet. He closely monitored the guys that I dated and, in true fatherly fashion, pretty much hated all of them until Gene. He taught me a lot about respect - both giving it and expecting it from others. We were devastated to learn that he had lung cancer less than two years after Gene and I were married. I am grateful that we were (just) able to share the news of our first baby on the way with him before he passed away...he predicted that it would be a boy, and he was correct in his advice so often that I firmly believed it until the ultrasound showed otherwise! I wish my girls had gotten to know him.

Mom started dating again not too long after he passed, and I was not happy. I was pregnant and hormonal anyway, and I just detested the jerk that she latched onto. He had two little kids, and she didn't need that. He lived too far away. His personality was abrasive. Even his name irritated me. And then she decided to marry him. I was a good daughter and helped Mom plan the wedding, although I can't say I had the best attitude about it behind her back. But it happened, and life went on. He turned out to be an okay guy. He encouraged Mom to spend time with "her girls," which was nice. He and Gene got along well enough. And Rachael really liked him. Then Milly came along, and she REALLY liked him. Maybe it's just that I finally decided to give the poor guy a chance, maybe it's that I can't watch someone adore my children and not like them just a little...but I finally, thankfully, realized that he's really kind of a great guy. He's the grandparent that rolls on the floor with the girls, wrestles and flips them around and (literally) lets them walk all over him. He's a pushover, so long as the demands are polite, and he acknowledges and enjoys it. He proudly wears a shirt proclaiming to the world that he's a grandpa, even though his own children are only 12 and 15 and he wouldn't be close to grandpa-dom yet if not for claiming my girls. I am grateful that he's part of our family now, and that Mom didn't listen to me after all.

Oh, and today is his birthday: 11-11-11. Neat, right? Seemed like a perfect day to be grateful for those stepparents.

Gushing about my terrific mom and dad coming soon...and I guess I should include in-laws somewhere too, huh? I guess I kind of have seven parents! Okay, now it's starting to sound a little crazy...

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Ten

2011-11-10T20:12:00.000-08:00

I'm going to take it waaaaaaay back tonight. I'm talking Neanderthal here. That's right, tonight I am grateful for...fire.

I know, that was kind of unexpected, right?

Anyway, I'm not fond of all fire. I don't like house fires or forest fires. Campfires are good. A nice fire in the fireplace is the best. When properly contained and serving a purpose, fire can be our friend.

In our case, fire is what keeps us warm. When we moved into this house, it was heated with oil or gas or propane...something ridiculously expensive that I haven't bothered to remember. Between our high ceilings and shoddy insulation, we were talking mucho dinero just to stay marginally warm through the winter.

It sure was convenient, though.

Not too long ago (one year? two?), dear sweet darling hubby decided that it was time to invest in a Heatmor furnace. It's a freestanding outdoor furnace that looks quite a bit like a small storage shed. Fire inside the furnace heats water that makes steam that blows through pipes in the house and keeps the house warm...again, it's something like that. Details bore me. The important thing is, as long as there's fire in the furnace, there's heat in the house.

That's all well and good as long as Gene is home to keep the fire going. Unfortunately, he's not always around. Even more unfortunately, now he's often gone at night.

Despite my objections, I've learned to build a fire. I've also learned not to rely on Gene to keep kindling cut for me, so we no longer throw away anything made of paper or cardboard. Newspaper, toilet paper tubes, and cardboard boxes are my kindling 99% of the time. The wads of paper that my Scentsy orders come packed in burn best of all.

(I would like to pause here to add that while I build a fire differently from Gene, I can still do it. The man had the audacity today to saunter over to where I was building a fire - while sick, mind you - laugh, and say, "that's cute." He escaped unharmed, but barely.)

Building the fire is one thing, but heading out to keep it going is quite another. As with any fire, it needs to be "fed" pretty regularly - day or night. And I have a problem with heading outside, around the house, surrounded by woods, at night. Granted, I always head out armed with a heavy flashlight, a phone, and a big dog, but still. It's just scary dark outside of the circle of light around the furnace. One night, I will surely be eaten by coyotes, and I will never even see them coming.

(Note to self: are there coyotes around here? Probably so. Double check that.)

But despite my should-have-been-outgrown-by-now, probably-irrational-but-so-what fear of the dark, I have to be grateful for the fire. It's dirty and smelly and darned inconvenient, but it keeps us warm for next to absolutely nothing. And at least it's outside - not in the living room, where our wood stove stood when I was a child. In its place is now a nice brick and rock (gas/propane/whatever) fireplace that maybe, if I'm lucky, Gene will allow us to light just once this winter - probably on Christmas morning.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Nine

2011-11-09T19:43:00.000-08:00

I am grateful for Cranberry Sierra Mist, which a friend was kind enough to leave at my house, has not yet gone flat, and cut through whatever miserable crud has infested my throat today.

Hey, it's all about the little things, right? Along those same lines, I am grateful for:

children who are old/smart/capable enough to (mostly) fend for themselves when Mommy is sick. It's nice to know that they won't starve if anything happens to me. They can dress themselves and use the bathroom, and Rachael even did schoolwork with her sister. Yep, I'm practically expendable.
wireless Internet and laptop computers, which allowed me to stay entertained while I hung out on the couch all day, and required virtually no movement whatsoever.
my Kindle. Ditto above.
public libraries, and especially my public library, which is "home" to the most amazing librarian ever to grace the stacks. It's nice to have someone who remembers the book you have on hold even when you've forgotten about it, who renews books that you've misplaced even though it's really been ~~a bit~~ far too long, and orders new books based on what she knows your child likes to read. I heart her very much. Oh, and also all of the wonderful books, one of which I also kept on the couch with me today.
TV remotes, because I am just old enough to vividly remember a time before we had them.
tissues.
cough drops.
DayQuil.
clarity of mind to realize that, although I've been pretty miserable today, I still have it really good. I can function, which is more than so many people can do. I'm just choosing to wallow in it, and I'm grateful for the luxury of doing so.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Eight

2011-11-08T18:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I mentioned being grateful for difficult people, who remind me of the attitudes I don't want. But how much more grateful I am for the very, very few people that I actually consider my friends.

Some people have tons of friends. I never have. I've always been more of a "one best friend" type of girl, and I don't consider anyone a true friend until I've known them for quite some time. Sure, I have tons of very nice acquaintances that I enjoy spending time with on occasion, and I am grateful for them too. But as actress Marlene Dietrich once said, "it's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter."

I could count those people on one hand and have a couple of fingers to spare.

The older I get, the less inclined I am to form new friendships. The simple truth is that women tend to be catty, passive-aggressive, competitive, and disloyal in their friendships - and I don't have the emotional energy for "friends" like that. Although I can't avoid them entirely, I have made a conscious choice to distance myself from these people as much as possible.

And so I am especially grateful for the friends who are fiercely loyal. Who can always make me laugh. Who understand me best. I am grateful for the friendships that pick right up where we left off even when we don't talk to each other as often as I'd like. For the ones that have survived the test of time, and for the ones that I think just might.

(Although I don't want to list each one by name, I will also say that I am especially grateful for Stephanie, who has been my friend the longest, who fits all of the above criteria and so much more. I don't think any two people anywhere have more inside jokes. No one makes me smile like you can!)

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Seven

2011-11-07T22:10:00.000-08:00

I keep forgetting to blog until bedtime, when I'm too tired to do it justice. Anyway, I saw this earlier, and knew right away that this was perfect for today:

If that isn't the absolute truth...!! It's hard to be grateful for some people. We all probably have one or two that we'd just rather not have to deal with. I certainly do. And I tend to grumble and complain about being thrown together with them on occasion...but this certainly puts it in a new perspective. I can look at each of them and recognize the behaviors that make them so difficult for me to tolerate, and remind myself not to emulate them.

I suppose I could look at it this way: the more often I have to be with them, the more constant the reminder to "do better" myself?

I'm not sure that'll make it easy, but it's definitely something I'll remind myself of while I'm biting my tongue into tiny, tiny shreds.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Six

2011-11-06T23:17:00.000-08:00

It is after 2 a.m., and I am just grateful to be HOME. My day started at 6 a.m., was filled with alpaca competitions, and culminated in a seven hour drive home. I am thankful that we made it there and back safely.

I am also thankful for not one, not two, but FIVE ribbons that Rachael won at the alpaca show - proudly displayed on the kitchen table, waiting for Gene to get home and see them in the morning. One of which is the following color:

(I honestly think she was happier to win the fourth place ribbon, because it was PINK.)

More gratitude (and alpaca show details) after we catch up on some much-needed sleep...

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Five

2011-11-05T19:33:00.000-07:00

I could do a lot of complaining again today. But I won't. Instead, I will choose to be grateful that I am able to spend a whole day with my daughter, doing not much of anything at all. That I am able to travel. For experiencing new things. For laughing with friends. And for alpacas - this one in particular:

Rachael will be in the show ring tomorrow. Wish her lots of luck! We'll be driving home - six and a half hours plus - afterward. Not looking forward to that. But grateful for an extra vehicle so we can take off to alpaca shows three states from home on a weekend that Gene has to work. At his job. Which I am also thankful for.

Falling into bed now...

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Four

2011-11-04T18:10:00.000-07:00

Today I am grateful that God answers prayers such as "DEAR LORD, PLEASE GET ME OUT OF THIS ATLANTA TRAFFIC ALIVE!!"

He also answers prayers like "Dear Lord, please put Your hand across my mouth and help me not to say something ugly that this person desperately deserves to hear."

It's been a long day. Ranch at 8 a.m., on the road at 9:30, in Georgia by 5, hotel room at 8. I am so ready to shower and go to bed...so I'm also grateful for hot, running water and a bed to sleep in, even when it's in a hotel room and I'd much rather be at home.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Three

2011-11-03T20:31:00.000-07:00

November 3rd is not a good day for me. This November 3rd in particular. I'll tell you why in a few minutes. But for now...today I am thankful for grandparents.

I was very fortunate as a child to be able to spend time with all four of my biological grandparents, plus one great-grandparent. Unfortunately, three of the five passed away before I turned ten. I wish I had had more time with each of them.

My great-grandma was my dad's grandmother. I called her Granny. She was ancient (actually in her early 80s, which doesn't seem ancient to me any more, but it sure did when I was a little kid.) She had horn-rimmed glasses that made her a little intimidating, to me...but truth be told, she was sweet as she could be. She crocheted like a fiend, and I wore Granny-made booties long past an age where booties are appropriate attire. (They were warm.) She even attempted to teach me to crochet once, which ended with my making a nice, long chain and deciding that crochet wasn't for me. She was a great cook too, and was the first to introduce me to that awesome homemade chocolate icing - you know the kind, that has just a little bit of crunch to it after it's sat for a little while? Oh man, wonderful stuff.

Then there was Grandma, my dad's mother. I adored her. Grandma and Papaw lived right next door to Granny, and quite often, when spending a night with Granny, I would beg to go over to visit Grandma for a little while too. Especially on Saturday evenings, because Grandma had cable. We would turn off the lights in the living room, snuggle on the couch, and watch Speedy Gonzalez and Pink Panther - shows I never saw at home, where we had an antenna and approximately three channels. It was on one of these evenings that Grandma and I saw a commercial for cheese. Yes, cheese, and I remember it because of this: we watched this commercial and at the same time, we decided that cheese sounded really good. So we went into the kitchen, got two slices of cheese from the fridge, and returned to the couch. We unwrapped them and took a big bite...and realized that the cheese sounded a lot better than it actually tasted. So Grandma took the slices of cheese, with one bite out of each, and threw them away. Threw them away! She wasted food! She actually admitted to not liking something, and didn't make me finish it either. To my little kid mind, that was the most amazing thing ever. And it was typical of Grandma - she was just a cool lady. She also introduced me to The Far Side - she had several big books of the cartoon, and I read everything I could get my hands on. It was just a matter of time until I discovered those too. Although I didn't "get" a lot of them at the time, I sure do love them now...and have to wonder if the sense of humor that my dad and I share might have come from her.

Then there was Grandaddy, my mom's dad. Adoptive dad, actually, but that didn't matter a bit. Although I spent tons of time at his house, cared for by (my other) Grandma while my mom worked, I didn't see much of Grandaddy - he worked all day too. But when he did come home from work, I could be reasonably sure that there was a treat for me waiting in his lunch sack. Weekends were the best - I would sit between him and Grandma in his car that seemed to be forever old (and was no fewer than four different colors), and we would go to a local drive-in restaurant for the best strawberry milkshakes in the world. Grandaddy was a quiet guy, but he was always smiling...I think he just liked to watch and enjoy.

My family lost all three of those grandparents in the space of six months, from January to June. Grandaddy's funeral was actually on my tenth birthday. You just don't forget a day like that.

I had the most time with Papaw, my dad's dad. Kind of like Grandma, he was just a cool guy. Maybe not as child-friendly - he was an avid fisherman and not around a lot when I spent time with Grandma - but you couldn't be around him and not smile. He had the best voice, the best Southern accent, and the funniest little sayings - I wish I remembered them all to share here. Papaw had a boat and a four-wheeler and a big truck, and when I got a Game Boy for Christmas one year, Papaw liked it so much that he went and bought one for himself. He was a fun guy deep down, you just had to look closely to recognize it.

And then there was Grandma - my mom's mom - who is responsible for the whole grandparent post today.

I spent more time with Grandma than any of my other grandparents. I stayed with her while Mom worked from the time I was a tiny baby. I was her favorite grandchild, and she didn't keep it a secret. (In retrospect, that may not have been completely fair of her...but it didn't bother me one bit!) Grandma spoiled me rotten, as long as I was polite and respectful, and I was. I have more wonderful memories of Grandma than I could possibly put into writing if I sat here all night long. As I got older, Grandma became my friend and confidante as well. I often turned to her for advice, and Grandma never failed me. After all, she had years of experience to draw from, and her advice was always solid.

For instance, when I was 16, she suggested that I go out with this guy from church. Never mind that he was 21 - she saw something special in him. So much so that she actually *threw* my phone number at him one Sunday morning when I wasn't there. Grandma was brazen sometimes, and I loved it...except for that time. The phone number incident was pretty mortifying to a 16-year-old.

But now that I've been married to that guy for ten and a half years, now that we have a daughter that's named after her...well, it's just a great story. :)

When I went away to college, Grandma and I wrote letters back and forth to each other. Getting a letter from Grandma absolutely made my day - she was my biggest cheerleader. She saw me make mistakes, told me that they were mistakes, and went right on loving me anyway.

Grandma passed away on November 3, 2001. Ten years ago today. Even though I was blessed to have her in my life for 22 years, a part of me went with her that day. As it will, time has eased the hurt...but not a day passes that I don't think of her.

So...even though today is a difficult day, I can acknowledge my gratitude for having such wonderful grandparents, for being able to spend time with each of them, for the time I had to love each of them in person. I am grateful for my entire family...not just the ones that are here with me now.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Two

2011-11-02T21:01:00.000-07:00

If I continue my trend of blogging just before bedtime, maybe I never will feel like that full-on rant after all. I'll suffice it to say that something has been gnawing at me. Okay, several things, but one more prominently than the others.

Today being Wednesday, the girls and I headed to church earlier this evening. They went to their respective classrooms (Milly actually, willingly goes to her class now, which is nothing short of a miracle) and I headed off to my class. There are no Wednesday night worship services; rather, there are classes that run in 8-12 week "series," and you choose the class that appeals to you from each session. There are usually several that sound wonderful, and it's a hard choice. This session, though, was a no brainer - it was called Balancing Life's Demands, and was taught by Pastor Steve.

Tonight was the last class of this series, and I'm sad to see it end...but wow, what a last night. I sat there and heard exactly the words I needed to hear. For discipline. For uplifting. For inspiration. I'll share it all in a later post, but suffice it to say, my niggling "what do I do about this" prayers were answered directly tonight.

That's not an uncommon occurrence at Osborne Baptist, which is why on day two, I am thankful for my church.

If you've been reading my blog for a while - or are lucky enough to know me in person (haha) - then you know how I've been struggling in the church department for the past couple of years. Not with faith, but simply where to go. My husband and I have a "home" church - where we grew up, met, etc. - and the decision to seek out a new church was not an easy one. Feeling like a traitor to my "old" church, it took quite some time to "allow" myself to feel at home anywhere else. But I was fortunate to find one that I love, even though it is veeeeery different from what I was used to.

A wise woman has told me several times now that one needs a church where they are "fed" spiritually, and OBC does that for me. I can't tell you how many times I've had experiences just like the one tonight, where I walk in for a service or class and hear Scripture that applies directly to what's going on in my life at that time. I am so very grateful.

(My word, how many "quotes" can I use in one blog post?!)

Of course, it should go without saying that I am also (so, so) grateful that God loves ME enough that He sent his only son to die for ME...and for you. He has blessed me so many times, with a wonderful family and so much more. Without Him, the church itself would be just another building.

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day One

2011-11-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

I've been mentally composing a blog post throughout my day. In it, I was going to whine and complain about how terrible things seem lately. How tired I am. How overextended. I was going to rant about the people that have been on my nerves lately, about Gene's new work hours, about the foul attitudes my children have exhibited of late. Yep, I was gonna let it aaaaaaall out, and I was going to feel better for it.

But two things happened.

One, I sat down and opened Blogspot and realized that I was just too tired to expound on all of the above. Seriously, just dwelling on it all is enough to wear a person out.

Two, a new trend has popped up on Facebook today. I have more than a few friends participating in an experiment called "30 days of gratitude," in which they share one thing for which they are grateful per day in November. Goes along with Thanksgiving and whatnot. Most of them seem to be posting their thing-per-day on Facebook, but I thought it would be better suited for my blog, since I tend to be wordy.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm not going to complain this month. Oh, I am. Just let me get a good night's sleep and the rant-fest will commence. But who says I can't whine and be grateful in the same post? Nobody, that's who. Because this is my blog.

But for tonight, I will just begin by saying that:

...the family that keeps me awash in things to do. I am infinitely grateful for a good (albeit sometimes infuriating) husband, who loves his family and works hard to take care of us, and for the two beautiful girls that call me Mommy. I am humbled every day to realize that God entrusted them to me, which just goes to show that He has infinitely more confidence in me than I do in myself.

Single Mom-ness

2011-10-17T19:10:00.000-07:00

No no, Gene and I haven't split. We've put up with each other for ten and a half years of marriage (and several beyond that), and we both agree that we've invested too much time and energy into this thing to even contemplate starting over.

But I sure do feel like a single mom tonight. I mean, your man is supposed to be at home in the evenings, right? Watching over his domain and whatnot?

We knew when he started his new job that he would eventually be moved to night shift. But he finished his first few weeks of classroom training and was moved to a day shift for his hands-on training, which lasts for approximately fifteen weeks. Talk about some praising God in this house! I was happier than a woodpecker in a lumber yard. Barring a major change, he'd be on day shift until at least early December - maybe through the end of the year!

Oh, but this company likes to spring changes on people. We've discovered this already. They don't like to give you much warning that it's coming, either. In this case, he had about a week's notice, and that's the most that he's had of anything so far. More newbies were coming in behind him, and they needed his day shift to train them. So starting...oh, about three hours ago, Gene is working night shift.

I am not thrilled at this new development. I had issues with night shift from the very beginning, seeing as how I don't like being home at night without him. Not that we live in a bad neighborhood, mind you. We just don't live in a neighborhood. Think middle of nowhere-ish, down a long gravel drive, with no visible neighbors. Think surrounded by woods. Think very dark at night. Oh yes, my inner scaredy girl is not a happy camper.

(Let me pause for a moment here to address those who are certainly wondering, "why would she post about being home alone at night, right out there on her blog for the world to see?" Three reasons.

One, it's therapeutic. I need to whine about it somewhere.

Two, Walter. Nerdy name notwithstanding, Walter is a very large dog with a very mean bark, and he sleeps right in front of the door. The teensiest noise does not escape him. And if you show up unannounced at my house after dark, I will not call him off of you.

And three, Keisha. How "she" got her name is a long story that would actually be more appropriate for Gene's blog, if he had one. I had problems with Keisha living here for a long time, but I've recently made peace with her. Without going into too much detail, let's suffice it to say that you don't want to find yourself on the business end of Keisha. And she has friends.)

As we prepared for his transition to night shift (ie, me keeping him awake for half the night last night, and then demanding that he stay in bed today), I realized that his working night shift is going to be inconvenient in more ways than one.

For starters, he'll need to eat before he leaves for work - which means that dinner will be served earlier than any of us are used to on the days that he works. This will especially stink on the days that Rachael has 4-H, since I'll have to drop her off there and hurry back home to cook, then reheat it for her once she's finished. It's like having a baby in the house again - hims has to be fed, and I'm the one that needs to handle it.

Then there's the fact that he'll be getting home at approximately the same time that I should get out of bed, but rarely actually do. See, I'm a night owl. I would be quite happy staying up until 1 or 2 a.m. and then sleeping until 9 or 10 the next morning. And sometimes I do, because my kids are rather night owl-ish too. If they're still asleep at 8:30, far be it from me to wake them up, or even get of bed and risk waking them up. Nope, I roll out when my presence is demanded, and we start our day then. Sometimes it's 8, sometimes it's 10. It works for us. (Reason #5374985734 why I homeschool.) However! Now he'll be busting in the door at 8:00 (or a few minutes before) and he'll pretty much be ready for bed. Which means that I have to get out of it. That's not even such a big deal, but I also have to be showered, dressed, face did, etc., since I won't want to be barging into the bedroom while he's trying to sleep during the day.

(Yes, I know. Poor, poor pitiful me. I have such terrible problems. But this is my blog, and I will whine here if I want to. No one is making you stay and listen to me wallow in my whiny-ness.)

Then there's the single mom factor. He gets home when we wake up, and he goes to bed. Aside from the whole can't-fetch-my-crap-from-the-bedroom thing, it's business as usual during the day - breakfast, school, lunch, play. Start dinner. But when he wakes up to eat dinner and then leaves at just the time that I always look forward to him coming home, it just blows my mind. This isn't how things are supposed to go! I've already "worked" all day! Now I have to put up with these kids all evening on my own too?! It's mommy break time here, not time for round two! Thank goodness for decent children who are easily enough entertained and don't throw a fit over bedtime. Much. Usually.

Single moms, my hat is off to you. At the very most, I'll have to do the "all day shift" five days in a week, but the next week is easier. I have no idea how other women do this every day and don't go completely bonkers. Unless it's because single moms tend to work outside the home. Anywho.

My final complaint may actually be a non-issue...and that is that I told my children to "be quiet", "hush", "take it down a notch", "stop screaming/yelling/stomping/banging on the piano", and "SHUT UP ALREADY" at least a bajillion times today.

"DADDY. IS TRYING. TO SLEEP!!!"

Well, they were approximately as quiet as a jet engine all day long, and he claims that they never woke him up. Maybe having a man who insists on sleeping with his head in a fan isn't such a bad thing after all.

This is definitely a time of adjustment in our home. Not really a fun time. I mourn the loss of access to my bedroom during the day. I refuse to go to bed because every single noise in the night will be a psychopath with an axe skulking down the hallway. (Who needs sleep anyway? I'll sleep on the nights that he's off.)

But at least he'll have nights off. He has MUCH more time to spend with me and the girls than he did with his previous job. He'll have way better benefits (in a few more weeks) and pretty great pay if we can just stick with it.

I'm trying to look at the bright side.

It's just that it's so stinking dark outside.

Congratulations to...

2011-10-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

...THREE winners tonight!

The winner of the adorable felt cell phone case from FeltLLang is Kimberly Wright. She won by adding my button to her blog (thanks!!)

The sweet little red fox from ritaboth (that I have still resisted peeking at, but I tell ya, it hasn't been easy) goes to Jill, who tweeted about the giveaway. Yay, Jill!

And Katy wins her choice of cell phone case from Fancy Ferris, also for tweeting about the giveaway. The tweets have it this time!

THANK YOU to all who entered - I hope you enjoy your sweet new cases. (Kimberly and Katy, stop back by to tell me which ones you choose!)

Another giveaway will be happening soon, this time for camera lovers...be on the lookout!

A Standard of Grace

2011-10-09T22:20:00.000-07:00

I am a Pinterest junkie. (Need an invite? Leave a comment with your email.) It's better than Facebook, and twice as addictive. I currently have an obscene number of "pins", which are essentially illustrated bookmarks. I have pins for holidays, for craft ideas (for the girls and for myself), for Girl Scout things, for knitting inspiration, for photography...the list just goes on and on. But some of my favorite pins are in a board that I titled "Words to Live By."

You can follow people on Pinterest, the same way that you friend them on Facebook or follow them on Twitter, and see the things that they pin too. The vast majority of my own pins have come from re-pinning the pins of others. (Are you confused yet? It makes perfect sense once you start using it, I promise.)

Tonight, I came across a phrase that immediately struck a chord with me, and into my Words to Live By board it went:

In case your images aren't working, it says: I will hold myself to a standard of GRACE, not perfection.

Whoa.

Now, having a daughter whose middle name is Grace, and having named her that because of the Biblical definition of grace (God's unmerited favor), one would think that I have a pretty good grasp of the whole concept. And do get it, partially - by our inherent nature, we don't deserve good things. All good and perfect gifts come from above. Gotcha.

But what about taking that grace and applying it to my everyday life?

Am I gracious enough when my kids are on my nerves? (Sometimes.) To people who are rude to me? (Usually.) To people who say things to intentionally hurt my feelings? (Perhaps outwardly.) To the Jehovah's Witnesses that stop by on the days I haven't bothered to get out of my pajamas and right in the middle of our school work? (Well, getting a big dog put a pretty efficient end to that.)

I am a bit of a perfectionist by nature. Most people who know me well would never suspect as much, but I assure you that it's true. If I'm going to do something, I want it done well and thoroughly, and if I can not make it perfect, then I'm likely not to bother. Did you know that a lot of hoarders actually have perfectionistic tendencies? It's true. They can't make their homes perfect, so they give up trying. I am not, thank goodness, to that point...although I'm no June Cleaver either. I can think of several areas of my life into which that philosophy has crept - all or nothing. Less than perfect is not good enough.

I beat myself up over these things. Over not being a perfect mom. A perfect wife. A perfect friend. I always have. I lose sleep, I make myself sick, I sling myself into a depression over these feelings of inadequacy. Not because I don't do something at all, but because I don't do it perfectly.

But what if...

What if I could embrace the grace that God bestows on me constantly and make that, rather than perfection, my standard of living?

What if I could focus on more effectively extending grace to other people, thereby making myself a better person?

What if I could truly accept the grace that has been showered onto me, wrap myself in it, and remember that it is perfect?

This one quote on Pinterest has certainly made me think tonight...and now I want to know. What would "holding yourself to a standard of grace" mean to you?

* * * *
Going to share this post with the lovely ladies at Spiritual Sundays!

Giveaway #3: Spunky or Sophisticated - You Choose! Cell Phone Case by Fancy Ferris

2011-10-06T21:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's no secret that I harbor an active inner child. I strongly suspect that all of my 30-something friends are truly grown-ups and I'm the lone pretender, because I certainly don't feel like 32 most days. (I seem to have a lot of people fooled, though, which is kind of nice.)

Anyway, after drooling over cases adorned with cutesy animals for a while, I figured I should go and look at something a little more...adult. Something more appropriate for those occasions when I want to seem more mature and sophisticated, such as...such as...well, I can't think of any just now. But you know where I'm going with this one.

After much much much browsing, I finally found Fancy Ferris's Etsy shop, and fell in love with the design of her phone cases. A deceptively simple envelope shape...but with elastic on the edges to hold the phone securely, a pocket inside for license/cards/etc, and a detachable wristlet strap. Awesome!! And she has two pages, ya'll, of amazing color and pattern combos to choose from. I went through them at least five times before I finally decided that I liked this spunky little black and pink polka dot number best:

Look, black is sophisticated. No doubt. But a girl needs a little pink, and polka dots never hurt anybody.

This is actually one of the more "muted" combos in the Fancy Ferris shop. I also really really loved this one and this one and this one. And this one. It just really isn't an easy choice.

But all things considered, I'm glad I went with the black and pink dots. Silliness aside, this one is my go-to case for Sunday mornings, not least of all because it matches my Bible cover nicely, and because I can slide in my debit card, clip my keys to it, and not have to haul my whole purse into church with me. It's understated enough for more serious environments, without sacrificing the fun factor...and exceptionally well made to boot.

(All three cases in my giveaways are very well made, in fact. Kudos to all three of the amazing designers!!)

Chyrel - the creator behind Fancy Ferris - is just the sweetest, and reminds me once again why I love doing reviews and giveaways for fellow Etsy folks - I get to meet so many nice people along the way! Be sure to check out her shop, and enter to win one of her beautiful cases for yourself. Good luck picking one, though. Might I suggest eeny-meeny-miney-moe? :)

Giveaway #2: Little Red Fox Case from Wild to Wear by ritaboth

2011-10-06T20:57:00.000-07:00

The second case that caught my eye and made me stop and squeal a little was this precious little bird:

Now tell me, is that not sweet?! I just loved his little birdy shape, that big eye, even the teensy little black beak sticking out in front - can you see it in this picture? I hope so, because it's just too cute.

Truth be told, I had a hard time deciding which case I liked best in the Wild to Wear by ritaboth Etsy shop. Besides the little blue bird, she has a darling brown mole, a sweet polka-dotted whale, and a gorgeous little plaid fox that was a CLOSE contender for my favorite.

And wouldn't you know that the fox is the one she'd offer to give away to one lucky reader. I think maybe she was trying to tempt me, at least a little, when she sent him along with my birdy. But I have not opened the tissue paper he's wrapped in, lest I fall in love and have to keep him too. ;)

** UPDATE: I'm very sorry for a mistake in my original post. Rita contacted me this morning to let me know that it is not, in fact, the plaid fox that was sent for the giveaway, but the RED fox. See, this is what happens when I have willpower. I mess things up. Anyway, the red fox is adorable - who could resist that little face?

Anyway...back to my lovely little bird! He (I'm assuming he's a he, since he's mostly blue) is made of organic hemp and linen, and is just so much more cuddly and squishy than a mere cell phone case has any right to be. The inner lining is soft, to protect the phone, and there's a handy pocket on the back - just right for headphones, driver's license, debit card, whatever you need to keep close at hand. And did I mention how cute he is? He's more like a friend than a functional object. But I'm kind of weird that way.

Once I learned a little more about Rita, I understood why her creations are so unique. You see, she's an independent filmmaker and animation film maker. She says, "I've always had some creatures in my mind, and I tried to show them to other people. First it started with making plush toys of my own design for the children in my family. Then I wanted to make some creatures that are wearable and useful, like the bags, laptop cases, and phone cases. The first one was the Whale bag, inspired by a drawing by my sister...then came the owls, foxes, and moles, and I'm constantly working on new designs."

Personally, I can't wait to see what comes next. I hope it's an owl. Or a duck. Hint hint.

Want to win the mischievous little fox case for yourself? No? Oh, well, I can't force you to enter. If you don't, I suppose I'll just have to keep him for myself. That would be such a shame.

But here's the widget, just in case.

Giveaway #1: Adorable Felt Cell Phone Case by FeltLLang

2011-10-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

Before I dive into giving stuff away, I should back up and post an explanation. Why three giveaways all at once, instead of my usual one? And why three giveaways of such similar items? Well, it's like this.

Back in August, my dear sweet darling husband decided to do a load of laundry for me. It was his own work clothes, so it only seemed fair. A couple of hours later, I asked to see a picture he had snapped with his phone...only he didn't know where his phone was. Not on the table. Or his desk. Or in the living room. It wasn't in his car. And that was when he realized...it had to be in his pants pocket. It sure was, and although it was very clean, it was no longer functional.

So off he went to the Verizon store for a replacement. One of their special offers was a free smart phone - something that neither of us had ever had. Knowing full well that I would use it more than he would, he generously took my old phone and presented me with a shiny new Samsung Gem. Which ultimately turned out to be a ginormous pile of poo, but I didn't know that at the time. I should have gotten my first clue when there was no case made to fit the thing.

Okay, you're with me so far? I have a brand new smart phone with no case or cover of any sort. Time to head for Etsy and see what's out there. There's a lot out there, but three cases in particular jumped out at me for their cuteness and uniqueness. I asked all three sellers if they might be interested in a blog review, never expecting that all three would jump on board - but they did!

Therefore, I have three gorgeous phone cases to show off, and three more to give away to a lucky reader.

Since then, I've sold the horrific smart phone and downgraded back to a nice, normal dumb phone that will actually allow me to make phone calls. And it still fits nicely in all three cases, which I love switching between and showing off.

So, are you ready to see case number one? This was the first one that I received, and it is darling.

This case was made by Yujin Kim, the creative genius behind FeltLLang on Etsy. Yujin recently moved to the U.S. from South Korea. She has always loved the arts (especially drawing), majored in the arts in college, and taught art to elementary school students before her big move. Now she lives with her husband in Cincinnati, where she began crafting in her free time. Her hobby led her to Etsy, where she now has an amazing shop full of adorable felt covers for most electronic devices, plus felt checkbook covers, wallets, keychains, etc.

All FeltLLang items are made of high quality polyester felt from Korea, which is very durable. Most items can be customized for size, color, etc. Yujin loves illustrating her creations with cute Asian influences, and says that she takes pride in each item that she creates for each and every customer.

As you can see above, the case that Yujin sent to me is purple (love!) with the CUTEST little balloon-holding bunny, and beautiful floral accents. Rachael immediately tried to take it away from me, before she even knew what it was. (I'm sure she'd have found something to keep in it if I'd been willing to let go.) She customized it for me to fit my ~~piece of junk~~ smart phone, but my new phone - which is a bit smaller - still fits very nicely inside. The top strap is wide enough that it keeps anything inside from falling out. The case is so soft inside, so as not to scratch the face of the phone, and padded enough to cushion it in case of a fall too. (I know this because I dropped my phone within an hour after putting it in the case. Not the case's fault; I'm just a klutz that way.)

Go go go, check out the FeltLLang Etsy shop - there is SO much cuteness there!

Yujin has made a case just for one lucky reader...I'm not sure which one it is, so you get to be pleasantly surprised when it arrives! Just check out the Rafflecopter widget below to enter. Contest ends at 11:59 PM EST on October 16. Winners will be emailed immediately, and announced here too.

Don't forget to check out the other two giveaways as well!

Slacky the Slacker

2011-10-06T14:06:00.000-07:00

Story of my life...blog, blog, blog, stop blogging for a little while, mentally compose posts but never find time to post them, get overwhelmed with all of the mentally composed posts that I haven't posted yet, continue to procrastinate. And then it ends up being a month between posts, and I feel like the worst blogger ever.

Anywho, let's see if we can get this ship back on course, shall we? Beginning with what's been going on here for the past couple of weeks. I'll just run straight through the family...

~* GENE *~

It's hard to believe that it's been nearly a month since he started his new job at Goodyear! The first two weeks were just classroom training. This week began the 12-hour days of hands-on training. I'm very grateful that he's on day shift for training. I'm pretty sure that he'll be moved to a night shift at some point - and it could be just any minute - so I'm enjoying the heck out of day shift while it lasts. For the time being, he leaves before the girls and I wake up in the morning and gets home around 8 p.m. That part stinks...but he works a swing shift, which means he works for three days and gets two off, then works two days and gets three off. Every other week, he has Friday, Saturday, and Sunday OFF. That is lovely. It'll take more adjusting to having him home during the week, though - the man really wrecks my routine when he's here. It's hard to impress upon Rachael that she must still sit at the kitchen table and do her schoolwork when Daddy is sitting on the couch watching TV. At any rate, he seems to enjoy his new job (for the most part) and it was definitely a good move for our family. The girls are already pointing out Goodyear things wherever they see them (today it was a Goodyear blimp balloon and a sample Goodyear tire in Walmart) although they still notice and point out Utz trucks too.

On his last Sunday off, he came with me to church. I was thrilled to have him there for the first Sunday in a series called MAN UP! All about being a godly husband and father...and I'm not implying that he isn't, just that we all have room for improvement. The church had rented out a local theater for the weekend showings of the new movie Courageous, and Gene went with me to that too. Talk about a powerful movie...I've never cried so much at a movie in my life. (Even at Toy Story 3, although it was probably close. DETEST that movie.) Anyway, we were both a little apprehensive about Courageous, which was made by the folks that brought us Fireproof. Fireproof having had a great message, but truly baaaaaaad acting. Courageous was so, so, so much better in every aspect - there were rough spots, but the acting was better, there were truly funny moments ("not just church-funny," said Gene), and it was touching in so many ways. Best of all, it sent a clear message to the husbands and fathers: be the man that God called you to be. Accept responsibility for your families. Do not let them down. Just my personal opinion here, but this one should be required viewing for any man that answers to "dad."

~* ME *~

I am, as usual, the least interesting member of this family. In the past two weeks, I've homeschooled, cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, attended no fewer than 68 Girl Scout functions, chauffeured Rachael back and forth to the ranch a bajillion times, swept, vacuumed, sold some Scentsy, read a lot, ate, slept, bathed, and a partridge in a pear tree. (Just seeing if you were paying attention.)

Two minor accomplishments: I started the Couch to 5K running program. I know, ME, running - it's absurd. Definitely not a pretty sight, which is why I do it on the treadmill, in the privacy of my own home.

I also sat down with a crochet hook and YouTube and started learning to crochet. Friends have attempted to teach me before, but I just didn't practice enough to let it sink in...I could make a chain from here to Tuesday, but had no idea what to do after that. I still don't, really, but I'm decent with at least three crochet stitches now. I have lots more videos to go before I'm proficient enough to read a pattern or anything, but at least I've started. It still feels so wrong to have just one hook instead of two knitting needles, and my left thumb hurts a lot (must be holding something wrong), but I'm kind of enjoying the challenge.

That's really it. I clearly need to do something exciting.

~* RACHAEL *~

The most exciting thing that happened to Rachael in the past two weeks was undoubtedly the night she got her pinky finger caught in a metal folding chair, and ripped the entire fingernail off. It was not a pretty sight. Well, I guess it wasn't - I couldn't look at it. Thank God that it happened on a night Gene was here to take care of it. (Blood usually doesn't make me terribly squeamish, by the way - but when it's one of my babies bleeding, I just can't handle it. Cut me instead, thanks.) It bled a lot, and I know it hurt...but she was far more concerned about what it looked like, and refused to be without a Band-Aid covering it for several days. Silly girl. It's now a free-range injury and healing nicely (according to a nurse friend), although it's still a vibrant shade of purple around the tiny stub of regrown fingernail.

She's spent a lot of time at the ranch doing the 4-H thing, and is super excited for the show coming up in November. It's about time to start incorporating the 4-H handbook into our school day, actually, so she'll be well-versed when it's time to be quizzed by the judges. There have been two brand new baby alpacas (a baby alpaca is called a cria - see, I'm learning things too!) in the past few weeks, and she's gotten to love on them both - as well as baby sugar gliders (soooo precious!) The ranch has lost a few more animals, though - something (presumably a coyote or similar) attacked their poultry last weekend. One rooster and several chickens were killed, along with everyone's favorite duck, Noel. Noel was a duck with personality - he'd follow people around and if you stopped, he'd peck at your shoes. We loved him, but (thankfully) she didn't take it as hard as she did Bluebell's departure. RIP, Noel, I'll miss the little guy.

It's just amazing to me to watch her at the ranch - handling the alpacas and llamas so comfortably, teaching me how to do "critter care," even shoveling poop - which they call "poop-lates" (think "pilates.") She's always been a princess that didn't mind getting a little dirty, but I just couldn't have imagined her being a little farm girl. (Note to self: get picture of her in the barn in her boots and braids!)

She's doing so well in school...she's memorized the first 18 books of the Old Testament and most of the New Testament books, and she can rattle off the names of Jacob's twelve sons like they were personal friends. English, spelling, vocabulary...well, we're very much alike in that she doesn't struggle with those. She's loving her new math curriculum and thinks that multiplication is FUN (!!!), knows the sound that each Latin letter makes (with and without macrons), and still adores history more than just about anything. I am a lucky, lucky homeschooling mama to have such a good, willing student. But I will surely pay my dues plus interest with Milly when she's a bit older.

~* MILLY *~

She is a little more dramatic, but truth be told, she hasn't been doing badly with school either. She LOVES her Explode the Code workbooks, and will happily sit and race through a dozen pages at a time if I let her. We started with the first book in the series, and I just bought the other two in the preschool series, lest she run out and go ballistic. I have a strong feeling that I'll be starting kindergarten books with her before this school year is over! She's doing well with her first year of Bible lessons too - she knows the same "Sons of Jacob" song as her sister, and she can name the New Testament books through 2nd Corinthians. Not too shabby for a 3.5-year-old! The thing with her is, she does school on her terms. When she's ready, you'd better not tell her that you don't have anything for her to do. And when she's done, her school day is over.

In spite of her ~~being demon possessed~~ temperament, something remarkable has happened in the past week... Before Goodyear, Gene would usually take Milly to church with him. On the rare occasion that we attempted to bring her to my church, she would not - and I mean would not - go to her Sunday school class. Epic tantrums ensued. Much clinging and screaming, tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth. In the end, it wasn't worth it to make her stay - I hated to leave her in such a state, and hated it doubly for the hapless volunteer who would have to deal with her.

But with Gene working every other Sunday now, something had to change. If she didn't go to her own class, she would have to sit through the worship service with me (distracting me) and then through my Sunday school class as well (distracting everyone.) So I talked to other parents in the church. Emailed the preschool director. Emailed the Sunday school teacher. Worried a lot and prayed a lot. And when Sunday morning came...she stayed in her class. The whole time. I'm talking 9:30 until a few minutes past 12 - this was major. We had talked it up and told her what to expect, and she was excited about it...until we got into the room. Then she started edging behind me and whispering that she'd changed her mind. And the tears started, but no howling. That's when her teacher, Miss Melissa, let her know that *ahem* MOMMY NEEDED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM...so I ducked into the bathroom that connected the two four-year-old classrooms (yep, they promoted her to the four-year-old room!) and exited through the other classroom. Startling the other teacher a bit, but it was worth it. Milly stayed and had a great time, and I've heard of little else but Miss Melissa all week. :)

Wednesday night was a little harder - she threw a full-fledged tantrum and preschool director quite literally pried her off of my leg...I felt horrible once again, for leaving someone else to deal with a Milly tantrum. But again, I found out later that she cut it out almost immediately, and had a great time in class. She even got to play the hand bells - and if she keeps going and practicing, she'll get to play them in the Christmas program this year. (I am quite opposed to this; my BABY is not big enough to be in a Christmas program!! But I digress.)

Milly is enjoying some time at the ranch too. This past Saturday was Oktoberfest, and they took several alpacas, a llama, the donkey, chickens, goats, an angora rabbit, a tortoise, a snake, and a sugar glider...and set up a little petting zoo uptown. Naturally, Rachael stayed with them rather than accompanying me to my boring old Girl Scout table...but once I was relieved and Milly and I headed back to the critters, Milly was eager to get right in the middle of it. One of the younger alpacas, a handsome solid white dude named Russell, is just a little taller than Milly - she promptly claimed his lead line and led him all over the place for other people to pat. Looks like I have another 4-H'er on my hands...once she turns seven. No rush.

Both girls are excited about Halloween...and Thanksgiving...and Milly's birthday...and Christmas. They have the remainder of 2011 planned out quite nicely. Wish I were so organized.

So, that's what's been going on with us. I have more thoughts to share later, now that the dreaded update is finished. And I have three - yes, three - giveaways to post later! Perhaps I'll get around to that tonight, now that I'm done procrastinating. For now.

La Bamba is NOT a Lullabye (NOT ME Monday)

2011-09-19T19:43:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to take part in MckMama's "Not Me" Monday for quite some time now, but I just have trouble airing my dirty laundry - even on my own little blog. You see, the whole point of "Not Me" Monday is to share with the world the things you've done in the past week that you're not exceptionally proud of. Only, of course it's not really you. For example...

I definitely didn't skip church last Wednesday night because the cable guy was coming on Thursday morning and my house was too disgusting to even consider letting him inside. I mean, who worries about that stuff? Not ME! I certainly wouldn't skip church to clean for a stranger. Oh no, not me.

And last Monday, when I wasn't feeling well? I absolutely sucked it up and did schoolwork with the girls anyway. Yep, we studied zoology, philosophy, African art and music, social studies...and absolutely not by lying on the couch and watching The Lion King. Only a true slacker homeschooling mama would do such a thing. And that is absolutely NOT ME. (Hakuna matata, ya'll...it's my problem-free philosophy. See, I didn't just make it up that we studied philosophy.)

Okay, maybe I could have a bit of fun with "Not Me" Monday after all. I shall revisit this topic again. But for now I'm going to celebrate by sharing a post that was written by...NOT ME. (Although, *I* certainly would not invite someone to be a guest blogger here because I'm too tired/lazy to write my own stinking post. Oh no, not me! And I definitely wouldn't steal her post title and claim it as my own...lalala la bamba...yeah, that wasn't me either. Read on.)

* * * * *
La Bamba is NOT a Lullabye

I woke up before the sun on a cold morning in January to find our house in complete disarray. My head hurt like a hangover but the bottles next to the bed were definitely not of the adult variety.

I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed, but not before realizing the pain coursing through my abdomen was not the remnants of a good time, and instead the uncomfortable reminder of a C-section. I peeked into the crib across the bedroom to find my newborn son swaddled and snoozing peacefully. I walked into the family room where I could hear his twin cooing in the living room, entertaining his daddy.

"Some night, huh?" I muttered to my husband.

"Yeah...that sucked," he said definitively. "How are we going to survive this?"

This being babyhood.

Parenthood.

Life with twins.

I shook my head. I had no idea.

It's remarkable how quickly our little five pound wonders turned our lives completely upside down. A mere 16 hours earlier, my husband and I carried our newborn boys across the threshold into a clean, comfortable home. A home my husband and in-laws had spent hours scrubbing, sanitizing, dusting, and vacuuming just days before, anticipating the boys' arrival.

Now, our house - our sanctuary - displayed our disheveled state perfectly. It looked like a scene from the reality show, COPS - like one of those houses the police bust into to break up a domestic violence dispute or search for stolen ID's. Those houses always seem to be messy and disheveled, a prerequisite, I imagined, for appearing on the reality show. Replace stolen property with baby products and we could have been starring in season 178 of COPS.

Evidence of our disastrous night littered our home. Half-empty, ready-made bottles of formula lay strewn across our kitchen counter, bedroom nightstands and dresser. I vaguely recalled fumbling with them in the middle of the night. (Did I pump? Had my milk come in? Who knows...my brain was mush.) The stack of clean diapers next to the crib now looked like they'd been ravaged, and tightly bound bundles of (presumably) dirty diapers filled the garbage. I eventually found our dog snoozing under a mess of sleepers and baby blankets.

Suffice it to say, our first night home with our twins the evening before went downhill fast. After a quick dinner of takeout, my husband and I got our newborns ready for bed, dressing them in fresh sleepers. All was calm. I took a shower and, after two weeks of hospital bed rest, this one felt so good. For a few blissful minutes, I let the calming feeling of home wash over me. After taking a last peek at the boys, I eased myself into bed and nearly cried with joy. For the first time in months, I was able to lie on my back AND breathe at the same time. A miracle! My husband, who was also exhausted, and I exchanged a quick kiss and we settled into sleep.

Or so we thought.

Moments later, one of the boys started crying, which of course, woke the other one. Their chorus of crying pierced the darkness. Sheets were pulled back, lights were flipped on, and we each grabbed a crying baby, hoping the crying would subside.

It didn't.

What transpired was a pathetic, albeit hearty, effort to meet their needs, failing miserably. We tried feeding and burping them, changing them, cuddling them, and walking around the house with them. And, if my memory serves me correctly, I swore I heard my husband hum an off-key version of Dream On by Aerosmith. Nothing worked.

Hours later and with our boys still awake and fussy, my husband flipped on the television and said, "We might as well accept the fact that we aren't sleeping tonight. I'll find something to watch on T.V."

I wanted to burst into tears. I was so exhausted, I could hardly see straight and now we'd be up all night. I felt the cold hand of reality tap me on the shoulder and laugh in my face.

As to be expected, our choice in television programming at 1:00 a.m. consisted of little more than infomercials and old movies. We settled on La Bamba, hoping perhaps the soulful, Latin music would coax our twins to sleep. Of course it didn't, and the mere fact that it didn't irritated me to no end. I knew I was hitting my limit when I began to envy Richie Valens.

The rest of the night crawled by, but sometime between 4 and 5, the boys must have quieted down because at 6:00, I woke up with a start, felt that horrible headache and surveyed the damage of the night before. It wasn't pretty, but it was over. Despite the collateral damage, we fought our way through our first night as parents.

Surviving this would take teamwork, patience and acceptance that our house would likely remain COPS-worthy for a number of years. And I was okay with that, as long as I didn't have to see Lou Diamond Phillips shaking his hiney to that God-awful tune again.

Melissa Wenzel is a freelance writer and public relations consultant currently doing PR work with a client selling kids costumes. Check out more tales from the trenches of twindom on her blog, Musings of a Twin Mama.

* * * * *
Wasn't she wonderful? Let's have a hand for Melissa! I've already asked her to please come back and tell us more soon...I could get used to this guest blogger thing too. ;)

Cherry, yes.

2011-09-14T18:46:00.000-07:00

Rachael had a dentist appointment yesterday morning. My child looks forward to the dentist the way that some kids look forward to their birthdays. She spotted the date on the calendar as soon as the page was turned to September - it was originally scheduled for September 7, and she was bummed for a whole afternoon when the office called to reschedule for the 13th. But the big day finally arrived, and off we went for her bi-annual checkup.

She jumped right into the chair and had her teeth cleaned with grape flavored toothpaste. (Am I the only one that finds that a little gross? Grape and toothpaste just don't go together. But she seemed to enjoy it.) She got a good report from the hygienist, and even more glowing praise from the dentist, who called her teeth "awesome" and "beautiful." Judging from her front teeth, she'll probably cost us a bundle in orthodontia in the not-so-distant future, but at least they'll have great teeth to work with.

During her checkup, I sat in the corner with Milly on my lap. She watched everything that was going on without saying a word, aside from one-word replies whenever Rachael asked her a question. The hygienist made our next appointment for mid-March and asked if I wanted to have Milly's teeth cleaned then too. I told her yes, but that I just couldn't imagine Milly going for it. Not my most cooperative child, not by a long shot. She did not seem thrilled with the idea.

So when the dentist asked her if she wanted to have her teeth "tickled" too, I wasn't surprised when her answer was a firm and immediate negative.

But then he asked if she'd just sit in the chair and let him count her teeth. She shrugged. "Okay." And climbed right into the chair.

HOLY CRAP, WHO WAS THIS KID AND WHAT DID SHE DO WITH MY CHILD?!?!

She laid back and opened her mouth wiiiiiiiide before the dentist could even sit down:

He showed her the mirror and the little hook thing he uses to touch each tooth while he's counting. (You know the thing, and I'm too lazy to Google the proper name.) He counted her teeth ("you've got a whole bunch in there!," he told her) and pronounced her teeth as beautiful too.

Then he asked again..."are you sure you don't want your teeth cleaned too, while you're already in the chair?"

Milly cut her eyes at him, suspicious.

"You could use grape flavored toothpaste..."

Frown.

"...or bubblegum flavored..."

(I honestly thought he might have her with bubblegum, she loooves bubblegum. But no dice.)

"...or cherry..."

"Cherry, yes." Instant response, no excitement, just a matter of fact "cherry, yes."

And at that point, she laid back again, opened wide, and let the hygienist clean her little teeth with cherry-flavored toothpaste. (Again, yuck.)

And me? I mentally kicked myself a kazillion times for not having my camera in my purse. I took at least a dozen pictures of Rachael's first ever dental appointment, because hey, that's scrapbook worthy. But I did have my phone, so I was able to get one pic, just to prove that it happened.

Once she was done, each girl got two prizes from the treasure box, at the dentist's insistence. Oh yeah, he really knows how to win over a little girl! And now, I have two kids looking forward to their next visit to the dentist.

9-11: Ten Years Later

2011-09-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Rachael and Milly,

Ten years ago today - September 11, 2001 - was a sunny day just like today. Clear, blue skies as far as the eye could see. Daddy and I had been married for only five months, and that day started like most every other. He left for his job at the sawmill as the sun was rising. I rushed out the door (I always rushed in the morning) for my job in the office at King's Grant Retirement Community. I punched in at 8:30 and headed downstairs to my cubicle. I had just gotten everything situated and my computer turned on when I heard a startling report on the radio: an airplane had just crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. It was 8:46.

Wow, that was terrible news. A big building like that...well, there had to be lots of people inside, beginning their work day just as I was. It was terrible. I wandered away from desk and into the main reception area to see if my co-workers had heard. They had, and the receptionist had already turned on a little TV in the corner. We stood watching as black smoke poured out of the tower. Reporters were speculating as to whether this was a crazy accident, or whether it was something worse.

At 9:03, we were still watching the TV and saw the second plane crash into the other tower. This was no accident.

Shocked by the morning's events thus far, I had just returned to my desk when a third plane struck the Pentagon at 9:37. At 10:03, a fourth plane crashed into a Pennsylvania field after passengers bravely overtook the terrorists on board.

I called Daddy at work, called Gramma at work. I just needed to hear the voices of the people I loved. It felt like the whole word was caving in that morning. Everyone was shocked, sad, angry, scared. Several of the employees and residents had friends and family in New York and frantically attempted to get in touch with them. Some did. Others were left wondering until later that evening. As far as I know, no one there lost a loved one.

But so many people did. Nearly 3000 people lost their lives that day, quite literally out of the blue.

Employees were invited to come and pray together in the chapel that afternoon - the same chapel where Daddy and I were married.

That night, Daddy and I sat in front of the TV at home, numbly watching as the news replayed the crashes over and over. It was so hard to go to sleep that night. I cried a lot, and I know I wasn't alone.

When nothing else happened over the next couple of days, it became clear that the attacks were over - but they had changed our country in a remarkable way. Flags were flying everywhere - off of buildings, in yards, from the tops of cars. Patriotism swelled - every heart filled with love for our country and its people. In their shock and grief, people came together and helped each other. Donated blood. Took up collections to help the families of the 9/11 victims. More people went to church, and I know that even more prayed. People gave their best in more ways that I can remember.

Alan Jackson - a big country singer at the time, still popular today, probably not by the time either of you are able to really understand this - wrote a song about 9/11 shortly afterward, that summed up quite well the way that we felt in the days following the attacks. Listen to the words:

There were other songs written, but none that speak my feelings as well as this one. Ten years later, I still cry every time I hear it. I know it'll be hard for you understand, since you weren't there, but I doubt you'll ever meet an adult that doesn't remember exactly where they were and what they were doing on September 11, 2001.

My sweet girls, even though you weren't there, you were on my mind that morning. As I sat at my desk, not working (no one got much work done that day), thinking about what had happened and what it meant for our country...uncertain of what this meant, what it might mean for our future...wondering what the world would be like in a few years...my mind flashed forward to the babies that I wanted, someday, and I prayed that they would not know the fear and uncertainty that we knew on that day. I wanted better for you both.

So I wrote a letter to you. Sitting at my desk in front of my computer, trying to look busy although my mind was anywhere but at work, I wrote a letter to my future children. I told you what had happened and what I felt at that exact moment. I told you the hopes I had for your someday-lives. The next day, I added to that letter a copy of the speech that President Bush delivered later on the evening in September 11th.

I saved it onto a disk and transferred it to my computer at home...but that was several computers and three homes ago and sadly, the letter has been lost. I so wish I could find it to share it with you (or at least, with Rachael) today. Since I can't, I thought that a new letter was in order.

I did, at least, find the President's speech. You can read or view it here.

And now you know where I was and what I was doing as well.

I hope that neither of you will ever experience a day like that one. But at the same time, I hope that someday you'll be able to imagine - and it shouldn't be hard, since there's so much video from 9/11 to be found - what it was like for us that were here. I hope that you'll feel pride in the country we live in, and in the remarkable people all around us that are willing to selflessly rush into burning buildings to save other people. I hope you'll feel compassion for the families that lost loved ones - and I hope that you'll learn great compassion in a way that's less heartbreaking. I hope you'll pray for people that need it, whether you know them or not. I hope that you never, ever have your own 9/11.

I am so grateful for you both. I wondered that morning, whether our world was changing in such a hideous way that Daddy and I would never want to subject a child of our own to it. But our country is strong, and while we will never forget that day, it did not break us. There are terrible people in the world, girls...but there are so many good ones too. Be two of the good ones. Always hope, always pray, and always do good.

I love you both, so much.
Mommy

HEART

2011-09-09T11:25:00.000-07:00

My Rachael's heart was broken earlier this week. It was something that I didn't expect just yet, and something that we both could certainly have done without. But like most things that break our hearts, it was completely out of my control.

Rachael has joined the 4-H club at a local ranch, where she's having a great time working with all the animals. They have more types of animals than I can count, but Rachael's very favorite was a white baby goat named Bluebell.

She first met Bluebell back in June, when she attended Girl Scout camp at the same ranch. Bluebell and her sister, Heather, were teeny tiny and still being bottle fed. Rachael always raced to be the one to feed sweet Bluebell.

When she made the decision to join the 4-H club, she was even more elated that now she'd get to see Bluebell twice a week. The goat pen has been her first stop at each meeting, and Bluebell always runs to the fence to meet her. They are precious together.

But this week, while Rachael was outside tending to the animals, one of the owners of the ranch commented that Bluebell and Heather had been sold, and would be going to their new homes on Monday. My heart sank. I knew that Rachael would be devastated. Even though the babies are going together, and to a great home...it wouldn't matter. This would be the same as losing a friend.

It was time to go home, and there would be no practice on Friday. I would have to tell Rachael before we left, or she wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye.

So I went down to the barn and waited while she finished cleaning out a stall. I was so proud to see her working so diligently, listening so well to the older kids and doing what she was asked without complaint - although nothing in the barn comes close to being a glamorous job. When she was finished, I asked her to show Bluebell to me before we headed to the car.

While we both petted Bluebell, I explained to Rachael that Bluebell was leaving for her new home. The tears started immediately. It didn't matter that she was going to a good home or that she would get to stay with her sister...Rachael was heartbroken and there was nothing I could say that would matter one bit. I'm not sure that it didn't hurt me even more to watch my darling girl cry while she said goodbye to Bluebell.

We could hear her bleating as we walked up the hill. It sounded just like Bluebell was crying too.

My first Mommy instinct was, of course, to fix it. Hurry hurry run and find a little white goat of our very own. But of course, that wouldn't have mattered. There's only one Bluebell. You can't just replace a beloved friend.

Now, three days later, Rachael is mostly okay. She still cries when she thinks of Bluebell, but it's not non-stop. That first night was wretched for us both. She's asked me to print out the two pictures that I've posted here, but I've put it off so far...I wonder if looking at them so often would just make it that much more painful? Of course, we visit the ranch twice a week, and I know she'll think of Bluebell every time she's there.

And so will I.

We'll miss you, Bluebell.

* * * * *

One verse that's been on my mind lately is Proverbs 4:23, "above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." (NIV)

How I wish I could guard my daughters' hearts for them, beating away everything that could potentially cause them pain. But how would I know what to conquer first? It's hard to tell where pain can come from...who would have expected an adorable baby goat to cause heartache? It's simply beyond my control to prevent them from hurting.

For that matter, I can't even prevent myself from hurting. And like Rachael, the pain often comes from an unexpected source.

I have always, always, always taken words to heart. I can remember things that people said to me as a little child that hurt my feelings. They may not have even meant to - in fact, now that I'm older and wiser, I can see that they probably didn't. But they hurt then, and that hurt stuck. There are instances I can recall from middle school, from high school...all through my life, careless comments that have chipped away at my own heart.

I get this honestly - my mom admits to the same affliction. She feels deeply and is hurt easily. This is one of only a few characteristics I seem to have inherited from her - and one that I have unfortunately handed down to Rachael as well.

Naturally, most of the words that one hears comes from the people that closest to your heart - your family and friends. So what do you do when one of them hurts your feelings constantly with their words?

The one who contradicts everything you say.

The one who is always right - making you always wrong.

The one who poo-poos your ideas.

The one who doesn't even bother listening when you talk and goes on talking about something else instead.

The one with passive-aggressive tendencies.

The one who consistently brings up topics that she knows you hate.

The one who gets angry when you get upset.

The one who is sweet as sugar pie to your face, but talks about you behind your back.

The one who won't let you get a word in edgewise.

The one who is too busy to talk to you at all.

I've counted all of these among my friends, and loved them all. Tolerated all of the above for the sake of our friendship. Maybe even been guilty of a few of those myself, because who hasn't? But never consistently. Never purposefully.

The same glitch in my personality that allows me to be deeply hurt at the drop of a hat also does now allow me to consciously hurt someone that I love. (Gene will laugh when he reads this. He definitely gets the majority of my emotional overflow. Likewise, I lose my patience more often than I like with my babies. But do I say things to make them angry, to hurt their feelings, to make them feel inferior? NEVER.)

I am simply hyper-aware of the way that I speak to other people - again, most of the time. I have unintentionally put my foot in my mouth and hurt someone's feelings, but overall, I am very selective of my words. I've actually been accused of not talking enough - something that, I heard later, made some people in high school think that I was a snob, because I didn't talk to them. Not the case at all. I would just rather not talk than to say the wrong thing.

And with some people, I feel like I can't say the right thing.

At any rate, I've realized lately that the majority of hurtful comments come from only a handful of sources...and have been forced to step back and rethink a relationship or two. It's a painful process - just the realization that a person you care for brings you more pain than joy is terrible. Contemplating doing something about it is even worse.

Then I go back to the verse, "above all else, guard your heart." Above all else. There are lots of ways that you should guard your heart - from a whole host of sinful thoughts, sure. You should keep it for God, and focused on God. But shouldn't we also guard our hearts against being hurt, being angered, being made to feel "less than" and unworthy of being handled with care? Shouldn't we seek out people that FILL our hearts rather than make us feel drained? Shouldn't we all have people in our lives that consciously try not to hurt us with their words?

I think we should. I will continue trying to be one of those people. And whenever I meet people who will do the same for me, I will treasure those friendships that much more, and thank God for them.

"Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer." Psalm 19:14 (KJV)

...and the winners are...

2011-09-06T21:53:00.000-07:00

Rafflecopter is kind of nifty, how it's linked to Random.org and picks winners for you. Congrats to Rachel and Gina! I'll be contacting you for details of your custom invitation or announcement... *yawn* ...in the morning. ;)

Yet another giveaway is coming soon too. Got a cell phone? Well, I've got something for you. Stay tuned.

Demands & Comfort

2011-09-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

(It's time for another Spiritual Sunday post! I hate that it took me so long to give this particular meme a try!)

Power Source classes resumed this past Wednesday night at OBC - instead of a Wednesday night worship service and sermon (which I'd been used to), this church offers different classes on Wednesday nights. Each one lasts for twelve weeks, and you sign up for the one that interests you most. There are usually ten to twelve classes to choose from, and there's something for everyone. In this session, for instance, there are classes devoted to studies of Judges, Timothy, and Revelation, there's a marriage class, a parenting class, one just for women (a study of the book Captivating), and then there's the one that I chose: Balancing Life's Demands.

The class description reads: "Are you busy, tired, stressed out, and stretched to the limit? Does life seem a little out of control? Are you running long on "to do's" and short on time? In Balancing Life's Demands, you will learn how to put first things first and find peace in Christ while in the midst of pressure and adversity."

Oh yes, this sounded like a class for me. I'm not necessarily "stretched to the limit", but I've been there before, and have to actively plan and schedule so as not to wind up there again. And I definitely feel like I could use a few more hours in my day...so I signed up.

About seventy people showed up to the first class. We met in the choir room (the largest classroom in the church, I believe) and there wasn't an empty seat to be found. I imagine that this was due to two things: one, everyone can identify with having too much to do. Two, the teacher for this class is also the church's pastor, who is a pretty popular guy. Pastor Steve is charismatic, funny, honest, and an excellent speaker. He's just an "every man" kind of pastor, and is so easy to identify with - if anyone can tell us how to juggle a to-do list, he's the guy.

During the first class, we talked about the six symptoms of misplaced priorities...and most of them resonated with me. Then there was the overview of Biblical priorities: God, mate, family, work, ministry. And an amazing quote from Dwight D. Eisenhower: "The urgent is rarely important, and the important is rarely urgent."

I've spent the rest of the week considering my own priorities, and how they need to be realigned. The first step was limiting my time on Facebook - darn you for sucking me in, Frontierville! I had such a booming frontier town...it's a shame that I had to burn it to the ground (or at least delete everything) so there's no temptation to check in just one more time. The next step was enforcing time for Bible study - one of the "I should" tasks that was quite often pushed back and back and back until it just didn't get done before. It's amazing how much time you can find for it, though, when you move it to the top of your priority list.

So the middle of my week was thought-provoking. By the end of the week, I was encased in a black cloud...just an emotional funk that I could not shake. I was ready for Sunday morning to roll around, knowing that I always feel better after going to church. And sure enough, this morning's message was absolutely perfect for me.

I mean, any message that begins with a detailed description of fried pork tenderloin, homemade mashed potatoes, buttered rolls, corn, green beans...well, it has to be pretty terrific, right?!

The name of the sermon was actually "The God of All Comfort," but you just can't talk about comfort without mentioning comfort food. (At least, Pastor Steve can't, because he's kind of awesome that way.)

I needed some comfort this morning, and I got it in spades. My sermon outline is a jumble of notes and verses that I'll spend more time with this week. I cried more during the service than I think I ever have in church before. And I left feeling better - and better equipped to handle whatever life throws my way.

(Although it's not posted just yet, the full sermon will be available online - in audio, video, and podcast formats, plus sermon notes - very soon. You'll be able to see/hear it, as well as past sermons, HERE if you're interested. I haven't heard one yet that wasn't thought-provoking, compelling, and relevant, but I'd especially recommend this one!)

"...He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

A beautiful song by Hillsong United that we sang this morning...so perfect!

What's this about a holiday?

2011-09-03T18:36:00.000-07:00

I hear tell that this weekend is special, for some reason. A holiday. The end of summer. People going to the pool, going on vacation, having a long weekend. None of that here, though - Gene worked today and he'll work again on Monday. Just another "weekend", such as it were.

Today was special for another reason, though. My Milly's best friend turned four! We celebrated with her at a princess party this afternoon, and my girls (along with six other princesses) had a blast.

Check out that fancy pink tablecloth! There were even candlesticks, plus balloons and streamers - it was all very pink and pretty. The girls had a great time playing in a castle tent, hunting for dragon eggs, blowing bubbles, dressing up in all sorts of princessy attire. Plus a pair of leopard print pants that weren't princessy, but were kind of hilarious.

Their family is so dear to us, and I love celebrating birthdays with them. How neat is it that my girls' best friends are also sisters? Rachael and Sophie were best friends from the time they met, before they were even two years old. A few years later, Sophie's mom and I each had another baby girl, only three months apart. Milly and Annika really had no choice but to be good friends as well.

So now that Annika is four, we're on a slippery slope to Milly's fourth birthday. I hate to even consider it...this, from the child who was supposed to stay a baby.

Happy Pink Saturday to my blogger friends...and wishing all of my readers a fun-filled Labor Day! (I'll be spending mine cleaning the house. Yep.)

* * * * *

How about a Saturday 9?

1) Has anyone ever intentionally ripped you off? Or perhaps unintentionally?
Oh yes. Intentionally and unintentionally, I'm sure. Who hasn't experienced this...monetarily, emotionally, and in a host of other ways?

2) When was the last time that you made a quip that fell completely flat and embarrassed you?
I guess it's been a while, because I really don't remember.

3) When you go to sleep, does it you need to be absolutely quiet or do you need a little noise (radio, TV, music or white)?
It doesn't really matter - I usually prefer quiet, but noise doesn't bother me much. Gene has to have a fan pointed at him in order to sleep, and that irritates me since the thing sounds like a jet engine. But soft noise doesn't keep me from sleeping, and is even nice sometimes.

4) Do you have a memorable "ripped clothing" moment in your life? No? How about in someone else's?
Wow, I must live a boring life, because I really don't. The few times I've managed to rip my own clothing, I've done it in the privacy of my own home. The worst I've done in "public" happened when I worked in an office - I had a favorite long, lavender skirt that I wore to work, and I constantly rolled over the hem of it with my desk chair. It did eventually rip, but only on the hem...no big embarrassment, and a pretty easy fix.

5) What's changed on your blog since its inception? ...a redo? ...a change of pace? ...or is it still business as usual?
Not much has changed since I've blogged as JCWBS - maybe a change of background, adding to buttons, etc. (Although I have ideas for sprucing up that I intend to implement as soon as I learn how!) I originally started blogging on Xanga, though, and tried Typepad and Wordpress too before I landed on Blogger. Definitely like Blogger best.

6) Can you remember where you were in life ten years ago? If you could travel back in time and whisper something to yourself ten years ago, what would it be?
Oh, that's an easy one. In September 2011, I was still a newlywed. Gene and I had been married for five months. I had a good job that I mostly enjoyed; we lived in a tiny house that I loved anyway, because it was the first one that was MINE (and then OURS.) I had two kitties (Samantha and Church), and a dog (Brittney), and I still miss them. My grandma was still living. If I could go back and whisper something to myself ten years ago, it would be to spend every possible second with her, because she'd be gone in just two short months.

7) Okay, let's have it! What's the craziest, most impulsive thing you've ever done?
I'm not a crazy, impulsive person. (It would be fun to be, though!) The only thing that comes immediately to mind is the evening when I was out with Gene and his best friend...not having anything else to do, we decided to go to the beach. And back. In one night. Even though it's a good four plus hour drive. But I was young, we were in a convertible, and it was pretty great.

8. If you were having a bad day what or who would you turn to for comfort?
Chocolate, my Bible, K-LOVE (contemporary Christian station) on the radio. The order varies. Sometimes Gene, depending on his mood and schedule.

9) According to the song White Rabbit, "one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small". If you were offered these pills today, which pill would you take and where would it take you?
Oh, no question...I'd grab the pill that makes you small, and I'd go clothes shopping.

Wouldn't it be nice...

2011-09-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

I've been staring at the "new post" screen in Blogger for quite some time now, trying to think of a way to say what's on my mind. In a way that would be honest but wouldn't offend anyone. Wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings. Wouldn't generate snarky comments. (I get enough of those on Facebook.)

Wouldn't it be wonderfully freeing to turn off the self-censor and let rip with what you're really feeling sometimes?

Oh, and people do - I see it quite often. And every time I do, my jaw drops - how could they say such things, right out in the open for anyone and everyone to read? Where are their manners? Do they just not care about anyone else?

Those thoughts keep me in check, even here, in the sanctity of my very own blog. Even though I want very much to tell the world exactly what I think.

Do you censor yourself too? Or do you, like me, think too much sometimes before you speak?

Well, it's about time.

2011-08-28T19:01:00.000-07:00

I bolted upright this morning when the alarm clock went off, a bit earlier than usual for a Sunday morning. Something important was happening today...but what?

Oh yes. I remembered as I stumbled into the bathroom and noticed the bag I had started packing last night. A change of clothes. A towel. A hairbrush.

I dressed down for church - denim capris, not my usual churchy attire. Made breakfast for the family. Even managed to eat a little bit of it.

Got in the car and drove to church, arriving a full half hour before anything would begin. Checked in with a man near the door, was given a brand new OBC t-shirt, and went to change into it.

Sat in a room with 16 other people wearing identical black t-shirts. Lots of people in shorts and capris. Mostly barefoot. Definitely not a typical Sunday morning. We talked, we prayed, and then we were led down a hallway that I had never seen before, one that ran behind the sanctuary.

My heart started pounding as we lined up at the bottom of a staircase. I was near the end of the line, with only two little girls behind me. One had gorgeous curly red hair. The other was a little blonde girl, seven years old, who waited with her daddy. She reminded me so much of Rachael.

The lady in front of me was nervous too, so we chatted to pass the time. But conversation ceased when we heard the music begin in the sanctuary.

After the first song and announcements, the line began moving up the staircase, one at a time. We watched what was happening to the people ahead of us with both joy and, yes, maybe a little trepidation.

Finally, I was at the top of the stairs, and Jeff, the assistant pastor who was standing in the water, was holding out his hand toward me.

No turning back now, even if I'd wanted to.

I did not allow myself to look to the left, where the congregation was seated. (I would notice only later that it was a very, very full house this morning.) Instead, I concentrated on listening and replying when I was asked if I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.

Why yes, I have. Many years ago, actually. Why hadn't I done this sooner? I have no idea.

I held my nose with one hand and Jeff's arm with the other. Leaning backward, I was aware of being under the water, but only for a second. He made good on his word that he'd be able to lift me back out. (I'm sure I asked him several times if he was sure he could! Luckily for me, he's obviously an old pro.)

I blinked the water out of my eyes and somehow made it up the steps on the opposite side. Received a towel. Dripped halfway across the building. Briefly felt bad about that, then decided to call it "carpet cleaning" and consider it an act of service.

I was baptized.

I truly have no reason for not having done it years ago. I don't recall ever attending a baptism as a child, or being asked if I wanted to participate in one. Maybe someone did ask and I just don't remember. But it seems that it just...never came up. Not as a teenager, not as an adult.

It was only recently that I attended my first baptism as an adult, and I was too busy attending to my precious daughter, who bravely (and obediently) asked to be baptized as soon as she could. I wanted it to be her day, but when she asked me why I hadn't yet been baptized, I promised her that I would do it the very next time the opportunity presented itself.

And today it did.

"Know ye not, that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ were baptized into his death? Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life. For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection." Romans 6:3-5

(A big WELCOME to my Spiritual Sunday friends!!)

I'm dreaming of a...

2011-08-27T20:06:00.001-07:00

...pink CamelBak. You know, the backpack that holds a water reservoir and has a long straw sticking out the back so you can drink while you're wearing it? Yeah, that.

This actually isn't a great picture since it looks like it has a water stain on the front, but you get the general idea.

I spent the majority of my evening working on a parent handbook for my Girl Scout troop. I've been working on it on and off for a while, but with the parent meeting coming up in just three days, I thought it might be time to finish it up.

Near the end, I was typing up details of next summer's trip to Washington, D.C., but there was a figure I'd forgotten...so I headed off to the event's Facebook page instead, where I saw other troop leaders talking about how wonderful CamelBaks are for D.C. sightseeing. Easily diverted, I headed to the CamelBak website next.

That's where I found this sweet pink backpack - appropriately named "the Scout" - and available for both women and children. Isn't that cool? Too bad they're $49 each, or Rachael and I might both have one come next summer. Of course, there would be other opportunities to use it as well... I'll just be here twisting my own arm if you need me. ;)

(Happy Pink Saturday to my PS visitors!!)

* * * * *

And now, for the Saturday 9...

1) Have you ever been on the wrong side of the law?

Well, I have had a couple of speeding tickets. And deserved a couple more.

2) What was the last thing you described as either "surprisingly good" or "surprisingly bad?"
I don't know that I actually said it, but I was really surprised lately when, having heard about it over and over and over, I finally picked up a copy of The Hunger Games and devoured it like a starving wolverine. It's definitely my usual "type" of book, but I absolutely could not put it down. I immediately bought the two sequels (Catching Fire and Mockingjay) on my Kindle and read them in nothing flat as well.

3) When was the last time you unintentionally surprised someone else?

About an hour ago. I made some sort of noise that startled Gene as I was coming downstairs...I think he was half asleep anyway.

4) When was the last time you deliberately surprised someone else?

Yesterday - I sent a new Scentsy bar to my mom via Gene, in the middle of a work day. I'm sure she didn't see that one coming.

5) What was the last really funny movie you watched?

The Help. Not all of it was funny, of course, but parts of it were hilarious.

6) What is something that you've never done that you secretly are dying to do?

Zip line. I would love to try it!

7) What do you hope is different in your life by August 2012?

Several things...among them, I'm hoping that maybe I'll acquire some patience by then.

8) Who is the last person you greeted at your door?

Gene, I suppose. Although it's usually the children and the dog that get to him first.

9) If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose?

No question, ancient Rome!

My latest venture...and yes, another giveaway!

2011-08-26T13:33:00.000-07:00

I've been a Photoshop addict for many, many moons now. It started with editing pictures of my girls, and then morphed into a raging obsession with digital scrapbooking. Then it downsized a bit into invitations and announcements.

It started with our second annual Christmas party. The first year, I had sat at the kitchen table for hours and hours, piecing together layered paper and rubber-stamped hand-written invitations, held together by metallic brads. The second year, I decided that I didn't have the time (or energy) to go through that again.

What I did have was a super cute picture of my girls in their red and green finery, and more Christmas-themed digital images than I could shake a (peppermint) stick at. So instead of my usual 12x12" scrapbook page, I created a 4x6" invitation. Had them printed for next to nothing at Walgreens, and I was done. Wow...that was much better!

Then a friend asked me to make a birthday party invitation for her daughter. Okay, sure, no problem.

Another one asked me to design a Christmas card full of family photos.

And another one asked me to create a baby shower invitation to match her theme and colors.

After making several invitations and announcements - and becoming an Etsy addict in the meantime - I decided that the next logical step would be to open an Etsy shop for custom invitations and announcements. :)

So, I present to you: 2:12 Designs. The shop is still a work in progress, but I'll be continually adding new designs. In the meantime, I'm happy to create anything upon request. (I even took it a step farther and created a 2:12 Designs Facebook page so I can share new designs as they're made!)

Some of my "sample" designs have been easier than others. This one, for instance:

It only took me three and a half years to get around to making her birth announcement. Gene was so proud.

Turnaround time will typically be much shorter, by the way.

To help kick off the opening of my Etsy shop - and, you know, spread the word that it's out there, I'm giving away TWO completely custom invitations or announcements - one each to two lucky readers!

Prize: One custom invitation or announcement - choose from something already in my shop, or start from scratch. You may choose the occasion, theme, colors, wording, photo, whatever you want, and I'll create it just for you.

To enter: Check out the nifty new Rafflecopter widget below! It'll tell you exactly what to do. (If you can't leave a comment, you're welcome to leave it on my 2:12 Facebook page instead!)

Contest ends: 11:59 PM EST on Sunday, September 4. Winners will be chosen by random number generator and emailed immediately. Please contact me within 48 hours to claim your prizes, or new winners will be chosen.

Good luck, everyone - and thanks for checking out my shop!

And the Kindle sleeve winner is...

2011-08-24T07:59:00.000-07:00

THANKS to those who entered to win the Kindle sleeve from Polka Dot Birdie! The winner is...

Look for another giveaway coming very soon!

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

2011-08-23T21:54:00.000-07:00

So the girls and I were in the living room this afternoon, still doing school work after lunch...enjoying a nice change in locale from our usual kitchen-table-classroom. It was about ten minutes till 2, and we were just getting ready to do science. Since we switched to a computer-based science program, I was sitting on the couch with my laptop, getting the program started for Rachael. She was sitting beside me, and Milly was standing on my other side, being nosy as usual.

As the program loaded, we heard the glass in the skylights over our heads start to rattle. This happens sometimes - usually during a storm, when it's really windy. But it certainly wasn't storming outside, and a quick glance out the door told me that there was no wind stirring either.

And that's when the couch started vibrating. Rather insistently.

Actually, the whole house seemed to be shaking. Picture frames rattled a bit on the shelves, but the whole couch issue was the most unnerving. Our couch had never vibrated before?!

My first thought was, of course, "earthquake." But we simply do not have earthquakes in Virginia.

My next thought was that an airplane was clearly going to crash into our house at any second. But since there was no crashing, and everything was still moving, I told the girls to go and stand in a bedroom doorway. (No, things were not rattling that much. But somehow, I remembered from some book that I'd read - probably years ago - that that was the thing to do during an earthquake.) So they went to stand in safety, and I...went to look out the door. As if I was going to see something that would clue me in.

By the time they headed up the stairs and I stood up to move, the shaking had stopped. All in all, it lasted for about twenty seconds. By the time I mentally convinced myself that yes, this was very likely an earthquake, it was gone.

WEIRD.

I still didn't believe it completely, so I turned on the TV to a local news channel. No mention of an earthquake.

So I did what any sane person would do, and went to Facebook instead. There, I discovered that I was not imagining the shaking - lots of other people felt it too, and not just my local friends. An old school friend in Winston-Salem, NC. People in northern Virginia. Someone in Ohio. Reports from New York. Even a friend in Toronto!

Holy cow, not only did I not imagine it, but this thing was BIG! So big that I furtively glanced at the sky to make sure that this was not actually part of the second coming, and already regretting my decision to spend the day in pajamas in case it was. You know, it just wouldn't do to meet your Savior in a t-shirt and flannel pants.

Anyway, news reports started flooding in, several minutes after everyone else in the world confirmed the earthquake via Facebook statuses. It was centered in northern Virginia and labeled a 5.8 earthquake.

It was no time at all before I found this picture online, labeled "D.C. Earthquake Devastation":

Oh, no question - we will rebuild.

Of course, our piddly little 5.8 quickly became the subject of jokes from people in areas where they get real earthquakes. California and Hawaii peeps, especially. My sister-in-law in San Francisco was remarkably understanding - she was a Virginia girl herself once, and probably remembers her first earthquake rather vividly.

Yes, it took a few minutes after the ground stopped shaking for me to stop shaking. Truthfully, it was the idea of an earthquake that was scarier than the trembling that we actually felt.

Still, I'm in no hurry for another one. California can keep them, thanks. Virginia may be prone to tornado warnings and a little wind and rain on the tail end of a hurricane, but at least we have some warning that those things are coming. I'd prefer my ground - and my couch - to stay put.

My Daughter Is My Role Model (Spiritual Sunday)

2011-08-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a red-letter day for my oldest daughter - she had been invited for a sleepover at the home of her dearest friend. She worries about this friend sometimes, since her family doesn't go to church. I've overheard her praying for her friend, and even talking to her about God when she's playing at our house.

So yesterday, I left it up to Rachael to pack her bag for her sleepover...her being 7 1/2 and all the laundry being clean. I checked on her a while later to find her little red backpack crammed to overflowing, and suggested that she move her things into a larger pink bag instead. And when I checked to make sure she had everything she needed, this is what I found:

Yes, I was a little surprised - she wasn't planning on going to church during her stay, and that would have probably been the only thing that would remind me to pack my Bible when I was seven years old.

But after the initial surprise came joy...my daughter, without prompting, packed her Bible for a sleepover. Wouldn't that warm any mother's heart?

She's such a good role model. I'm reminded so often of how much I have to learn from her.

"Verily I say unto you, except ye...become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3

(A big THANKS for stopping by to my Spiritual Sunday friends!!)

Surviving Mount Washmore

2011-08-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

You've probably heard of FlyLady. She's like a personal housekeeping coach, with daily to-do lists and encouraging emails. Too many of them, sometimes. I subscribe to her mailing list and delete about 3/4 of them.

Beginners are called FlyBabies. I am not a FlyBaby. I aspire to someday be a FlyBaby.

But I have read enough to know that the FlyLady term for a never-ending pile of laundry is Mount Washmore. And this week, I have survived Mount Washmore.

It's not because of our own laundry...or, I should say, because of our already existing laundry. No, genius that I am, I brought many, many loads more of laundry upon myself. I am fortunate to have a sweet acquaintance who has two daughters that are slightly older than my oldest. We've bought outgrown clothes from her before, and found them all cute, clean, appropriate, etc. So when she emailed me to let me know that she'd sorted through more outgrown clothes in preparation for a yard sale, and offered to let me have my pick first, I jumped at the chance.

My mistake may have been in taking Gene with me. Of course, we were out running errands anyway, and it would have been more trouble to take him back home...but his eyes absolutely glazed over when we walked into the living room and saw many - MANY - large black trash bags absolutely crammed full of clothes.

Knowing what sizes I needed, she had already moved eight of these giant bags to one side for me. Inside were sizes ranging from 5T (Milly's current size) to 8/10 (what I assume Rachael will wear in late winter, or maybe next summer. Hard to tell with her.) She said that there was an assortment of items - summer, winter, shoes, coats, swimsuits, pajamas. Gene sat down on the couch and sighed. And then he said something that I would have never expected to come out of his mouth: "How much for the whole lot?"

Oh, no question. He didn't ask because he thought the girls needed that many clothes - he asked because he knew that it would take me forever to go through eight huge bags of clothes.

He was right. Once we got all eight of those bags home, it really did take quite some time to go through it all. I started by sorting them into piles of lights and darks - I had been warned that they would need to be washed since they'd been stored in the basement. (They all still smelled clean, so it must not have been for very long...but I followed instructions anyway.) Had I paused to consider how long it would take me to wash all of those clothes, I would have likely reconsidered. Anyway, want to see part of our haul? Here's what I had washed by earlier this afternoon:

Yes, that's my kitchen table, and it is covered. There are piles of summer and winter clothes for each girl, plus pajamas. When I snapped this picture, the washer was crammed full of one load, and another load was drying. And still, these darks were waiting in the living room to be washed:

And all of these, too:

Those piles don't include the six winter coats and the pile of Hannah Montana t-shirts that Rachael wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. (She detests Hannah Montana, but these little girls apparently loved her. There were at least thirty HM shirts in the lot.)

To say that my girls' current stash of clothes is excessive is an understatement. They may not have to ever wear the same shirt twice. However, I also won't have to shop for anything but underwear and shoes for the next year - at least. Gene came home with a little bit of sticker shock once the eight bags of clothes were paid for, but I counted 471 pieces (counting pajama and outfit sets as only one, and not counting the Hannah Montana stuff at all) and it averaged to only $.26 per item. Now that's how I like to shop.

Currently, the very last load of clothes is in the wash, and one is waiting in the dryer to be folded. I'm thisclose to finishing what seemed to be an insurmountable task yesterday. Most of Rachael's new clothes are already put away - I'll have to clean out Milly's drawers because I can clear hers off the kitchen table. But I'm close...so close that I consider Mount Washmore conquered. And I never want to face it this way again.

If my Pink Saturday friends look closely at those laundry pics, you'll see that there's lots of pink (and sparkly!) to be found...but here's a little more pink anyway. My girls had their best friends - who are also sisters - over to play today, and they really princessed it up. I just love these girls. :)

Finally, how about a Saturday 9? Let me know if you play along so I can check out your post too!

1. In a relationship, have you ever hung in even when you knew for sure it was over?
In a "romantic" relationship - not since high school. When it's over, it's over, and there's no point dragging things along. However, I find that friendships are harder to sever, even when you know they're no good.

2. If you had the ability to perpetually alleviate any pain on your body, what would it be?
Foot pain - that's just the worst!

3. What place would you visit if money were no object?
I would loooove to visit Italy - Venice, Rome, Pisa, I want to see it all. And if we could hop across to Athens too, so much the better.

4. What is one thing you would love to change about yourself?
My patience level. It's practically non-existent now, so any addition would be an improvement. Most people tend to assume that since I homeschool, I must have been blessed with an infinite amount of patience. Unfortunately, not so.

5. Do you think your parents were too strict growing up?
No, I think they were just right. I knew what was expected of me and, as long I did what I should, I was also allowed privileges and freedom to make certain decisions. Especially as a teenager, as long as I let my parents know where I was going, who I was with, and when I'd be back, I was pretty much allowed to do what I wanted. (That's not to say that I didn't slip up a couple of times. I was a teenager. But for the most part, I was a very good kid that didn't get into trouble.)

6. In general, how many old friends do you have that you talk to at least once a year?
Facebook makes it super easy to communicate with old friends that I absolutely never see...but as far as actually talking to face-to-face or on the phone to friends from high school or earlier, only three or four.

7. What was the last compliment you received?
Hmm, how sad is it that I don't remember?

8. Have you ever told someone you loved them but didn't really mean it?
No. Never.

9. In your opinion, would it be harder to lose someone close to you more as a child or harder as an adult?
Syntax being what it is, I'm guessing the question here is whether it's harder on a child or on an adult to lose a loved one. While it stinks for either one, I would have to say that it's usually harder on a child. It's so much harder to understand death as a child - especially when it's someone they're very close to. But on the other hand, children are more resilient than adults, and may begin to heal more quickly. Although I think it's more difficult for children, I would have to add one exception: no mother should ever, ever have to face the loss of a child. I cannot imagine anything more devastating.

Page Traitor

2011-08-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

It's not too often that I'm really, truly surprised. When our anniversary rolls around, or even my birthday, Gene asks me what I want...and that's what I get. You know, as long as I don't ask for anything too exorbitant.

So I was really shocked last Christmas to find a gift under the tree with my name on it that was not something I had asked for. Oh sure, Gene got me the new pillow and the new bra that I had requested (I know you're jealous; my life is soooo exciting) but he had also, in a brilliant flash of brilliance, gotten me a Kindle.

Kindle - for those of you who either live under rocks or have never read a book - is the Amazon e-reader. You can download books and books and books - there are a ton of free books to be found online, and plenty to be bought at cheaper prices than "real" books. It'll hold 3,500 books in a slim little 8.5 ounce package, so you can haul a whole library in your purse. Oh, and the battery life is about two months before you'll need to charge it again.

So you can see why this would be an amazing gift for a confessed bookworm. I have always, always adored books, and would happily do very little else but read...except for having a family to care for and whatnot.

It wasn't very long (about fifteen minutes) before I started encountering Kindle haters. Those who claimed that Kindles were evil, that they could never be as good as a real book, that those who owned them were vile traitors to paper pages everywhere.

They were partly right - the Kindle will never be as good as a real book. There's something so satisfying about the feel of paper pages and (probably because I'm a tad insane) the smell of a library book. I can't line the shelves in my living room with Kindles since a) that would get expensive really quickly and b) it wouldn't be as aesthetically pleasing since all Kindles look pretty much the same. And there's just something lost when you curl up with your child and a good book...on a screen.

But in other ways, a paper book can't compare to my Kindle. Being thin and flat, I can lay the Kindle down anywhere and the pages don't flop around while I'm simultaneously trying to read and, say, cook. (Not that I would ever. Ahem.) Books are heavy and bulky, so the Kindle is really nice to have on long trips. And the speed of acquiring new books is both exhilarating and dangerous. Just a couple of clicks and voila! New book.

Take this past weekend, for instance. I finally picked up a copy of The Hunger Games from the library. I had been hearing about it for months and finally decided to give it a try, even though it didn't seem like anything I'd be interested in. You know, just based on the title and cover. It was wonderful. I literally devoured that book - 384 pages in 36 hours. That might not sound like a lot to some, but when you factor in child care, dinner guests, church, housework, basic hygiene and sleeping, that's pretty speedy. I couldn't put it down - and once I finished it, I needed the second book in the series. So I hopped online and went to the library's website. Out of six branches, not one had a copy available. Who knew when they would be returned? I put it on hold and waited. And twitched. I willed whoever-it-was that had the books checked out to bring one back on Monday, but they didn't. *sigh* I couldn't last much longer.

And I didn't. Just a couple of clicks and I had that second book (and the third, and what the heck? the first one too, for good measure) on my Kindle. Downloaded in a minute, Jack, and I was off and reading again.

Oh yeah. I'm an addict, and Kindle is my enabler. It's not the same as a book - never meant to replace them, at least not to me. But I love it just the same.

Ahh, my precious...it is lovely, yes? And the cover that it's lying on? Well, thank you for noticing!

Isn't it pretty? This is my Kindle's new home. One of the first things I did on Christmas Day (after downloading a bunch of free books) was to whip out the yarn and needles and knit a quick Kindle sleeve. This didn't work out as well as planned, yarn being a bit of a dust magnet and all. So I put "find a better Kindle case" on my to-do list, then promptly ignored it, since I'd taken the time to cable my knitted sleeve, for Pete's sake. But then I found Polka Dot Birdie's lovely Kindle sleeves on Etsy.

Polka Dot Birdie (aka Angela) was kind enough to send me a cover to review, and I am very impressed. To begin with, the fabric is soft but very sturdy, and the stitching is so strong, straight and professional. There's an outer pocket on each side of the cover, with a thicker, firmer sleeve in the middle to protect the Kindle. (Or Nook, or whatever e-reader you have. My Kindle has a little bit of wiggle room, so it would accommodate a reader that's a little larger.) It has a snap closure with strap wide enough to keep the reader from falling out if you turn the sleeve upside down. (Yes, I tried it, just so I could honestly say that. Yes, I was holding it over the bed at the time. I figured it would hold, but why take crazy chances?)

So to recap: Pretty. Sturdy. Padded. And keeps the dust off my screen so much better than my own creation. The pockets are handy for storing ear buds or USB cord for charging. And now, my Kindle "lives" in its Polka Dot Birdie sleeve, only coming out when it's time to read.

Okay, so it's out of the sleeve nearly as much as it's in. Anywho.

Being all-around amazing, Polka Dot Birdie also sent a second case for me to give away to one lucky reader!

Prize: One Kindle (okay, okay, e-reader) sleeve from Polka Dot Birdie.

To enter: Go visit Polka Dot Birdie's Etsy shop, then leave me a comment to tell me which of her items is your very favorite. It doesn't have to be an e-reader case - she has other neato stuff to choose from as well! As always, please be sure to leave your email address with your comment so I can contact you if you win.

That's the mandatory entry, but here are a bunch of ways to earn extra entries as well. Each one is worth one additional entry unless otherwise noted; please leave one comment per entry, and don't forget your email address!

Additional entries:

"Like" Polka Dot Birdie on Facebook and leave her a note to let her know I sent you.
Follow Polka Dot Birdie on Twitter.
Sign up for "Birdie News" to receive updates, coupons and giveaway news.
Comment and tell me which e-reader you have and/or why you're NOT a page traitor!
Follow June Cleaver Would Be Shocked via GFC.
"Like" June Cleaver Would Be Shocked on Facebook.
Follow me on Twitter.
Snag my button (top right of this page) and add it to your blog. Leave a link in your comment!
Blog about this giveaway and leave me a link! (+2)
Tweet about this giveaway - may be done once per day, for one entry each day.
Subscribe to this blog via email - just look near the top right for that too. :)

Contest ends: 11:59 PM EST on Monday, August 22. Winner will be chosen by random number generator and emailed immediately. Please contact me within 48 hours to claim the prize, or a new winner will be chosen.

Good luck, everyone!

Congratulations to...

2011-08-14T21:20:00.001-07:00

So, who wins the adorable cupcake headband from Glitter Bug Gallery?

There were 99 entries...plug that into the random number generator and we get:

...who is...

Congratulations!! I'm emailing you now.

Even if you didn't win, don't forget that you can use the code junecleaver to save 10% in her Etsy store through September 15!

And, I have a brand new giveaway that will be posted later on Monday evening. If you have a Kindle, Nook, or similar e-reader, be sure to come check it out! :)

Do Everything

2011-08-14T18:45:00.000-07:00

So, in my travels around blogdom, I've been seeing links to Spiritual Sundays posts all over the place. I finally made my way to the website this weekend, and decided that it was high time to join in!

My first thought was to blog about this morning's sermon at church. We've been studying the book of Romans for a while now, and I've learned so much about grace, salvation, sin, obedience... Today, the narrower topic was "Winning the War Inside Me." As believers, we have opposing natures that are always at war within us - our original, sinful nature (our "default" setting) and the new nature that is created in when we are saved. However, just being saved doesn't automatically make us perfect - as any Christian very well knows. We still have to fight that default setting and strive to let the more perfect nature shine through. Not always easy, is it? I am so thankful for a Savior that helps me whenever I call on him.

And even though that's a perfectly wonderful topic to blog about, something else struck me this evening instead.

The children had just headed off to bed, and Gene was on the couch watching TV (which is his personal default setting.) Not wanting to watch what he was watching, I figured it was as good a time as any to tackle some housework.

Sunday night has become the new Monday morning for me. I rather dread them. Sunday night nearly always means grocery shopping, so that particular trip won't interrupt our homeschool routine on Monday. Other plans for tomorrow have tossed our routine to the wind anyway, so I decided to postpone the groceries until then. A small reprieve for my evening.

But there was still the little matter of the kitchen to clean up. Not such a little matter, actually. There were still dishes in the sink from breakfast (had to hurry to church!) and from lunch (naptime!) and now from dinner too. Exacerbating the issue was the fact that Gene had cooked dinner - a task for which I am very grateful. However, the man is capable of utterly destroying the kitchen in mere minutes. He had made hamburgers on the griddle, so there was grease splattered for at least four square feet to clean up. Every remaining clean dish was now dirtied and piled precariously in the sink. Leftover lettuce and tomato was still piled on the cutting board. Cheese wrappers. Bread crumbs. The mayonnaise that didn't make it back into the fridge. It was actually a little amusing in its atrocity. I'm not sure I could make a mess like that if I'd tried - and certainly not as quickly!

So I cleaned all of that up. Gathered up the scattered remains of the morning newspaper from the table. Swept the floor. Folded the laundry that was waiting in the dryer, so I could dry the load waiting in the washer.

It was in the middle of all of this, as I wiped down the table, that I started to mentally grumble. Why was I doing all the work while he sat on his butt and watched TV? Sure, he has to get up early in the morning and go to work, but it's not like I have an easy day ahead of me either. Homeschooling while babysitting, visiting my mother-in-law in the hospital, and grocery shopping with what will certainly be tired and hungry children by the time we get there. Oh, and I have to get gas first, since he parked the van with the gas light on after church today. Not to mention the emotional aspect of my day tomorrow (please, if you're reading this, pray for my dear and hurting friend...)

No, my day will not a piece of cake, but I'm expected to "do it all" anyway. Why isn't he helping? Why does everything fall on me? Can't I be tired too? Can't I have a break? Whine, moan, complain.

Then, I happened to remember a song that I heard on the radio earlier today. I've heard it before (and love it), and I'm thankful that it came back just when I needed it. It's called Do Everything, by Steven Curtis Chapman, and it could easily be a full-time mom's anthem. The very first words are: "You're picking up toys on the living room floor for the fifteenth time today; matching up socks and sweeping up lost Cheerios that got away."

Oh yes, this is a song for me.

But the ultimate point of the song is not lamenting the role of the mom (or student, or businessman, or burger flipper) - it's remembering why it is that we do what we do. Check out the chorus:

Do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you

'Cause He made you

To do every little thing that you do to bring a smile to His face

And tell the story of grace with every move that you make

And every little thing that you do.

I so needed that tonight. And as I hummed it, I felt so much better about the "little" chores, the "meaningless" tasks, the "thankless" jobs. Turns out it's all about perspective, and they only seemed little and meaningless to me.

Thank you, Lord, for a home to keep and a family to care for. And not necessarily in that order.

Here's the (really cute and very creative) video for Do Everything - take just a couple of minutes to watch it, and I bet it'll bring a smile to your face too!

An extra special Pink Saturday...

2011-08-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited to be taking part in an extra special Pink Saturday - one that benefits Miracle Makeover. We've all seen (or at least heard of) Extreme Makeover - the show where a team of designers and carpenters invade a family's home while they're not there and make over a room or two into absolute dream rooms. Same goes with Miracle Makeover, although they focus on families in need. Their most recent project was the bedroom that cancer patient Charlie shares with his brother Liam, as well as their older sister's bedroom. Check out the video to learn about sweet Charlie, meet his lovely family, and see the before and afters of their rooms:

Pink Saturday is helping Miracle Makeover in a variety of ways this weekend - one of which is sharing this video and writing about the things that bless and inspire us. (For more ways to help - at absolutely no cost to you! - visit this week's Pink Saturday post!)

So, what came immediately to my mind that's both pink and a blessing? Well, two things, really.

On the left is a picture of my older daughter, Rachael, taken on February 13, 2004. On the right is a picture of my younger daughter, Amelia, taken on December 11, 2007.

I had saved all of Rachael's baby clothes in case we had another little girl someday, but I didn't realize until just now, when I went to find newborn pictures of them dressed in pink, that I had put them both in this very same sleeper when they were three days old. <3

More than anything else, these two little girls have been a blessing to me. Most visitors to my blog are mothers, so I hardly have to tell them how your life changes when you become a mother...or how that love grows-changes-shifts when you become a mother of more than one.

They were so precious when they were this small, and that time was so fleeting. Now they're seven and three, and most days they make me crazy. But I still love them just as much...no, even more than I did then. At three days old, I knew that they were miraculous and perfect and soft and sweet and mine, but I didn't really know them yet. I clearly remember standing in the hospital room with a tiny brush in my hand, hovering over Rachael just before the nurse came to take her hospital pictures, and thinking, "I have no idea how she wears her hair yet; we just met!" Milly was just as enigmatic - I'd watch her sleep and wonder what kind of child she would be, because she always had such a scowl on her newborn face. But she was invariably happy once she woke.

Now I know just how Rachael wears her hair - long and straight and long, long, long. No bangs. No haircuts. Minimal trims. Her plan is to let it grow all the way to the floor - she wants to cut it and donate to Locks of Love, but she still wants to have long hair after she cuts it. Quite a plan, huh? She'll be starting dance classes again this fall, and I'll admit that I'm nervous about getting all of that hair into a bun. It's nearly to her waist, and it's just a lot of hair to keep secured on top of her head. She's still a precious child, with a heart of solid gold. Her little heart aches for everyone - the sick, the orphaned, the lonely, the animals, the scraped kneed and paper cut. It's a fairly common occurrence to find her in her room, on her knees in prayer, after having heard about someone that needed it. She loves everyone, and most people adore her. I am humbled to be her mother.

And Milly! How things have changed with her! Now she wears her scowl during the day and her sweet baby face at night - quite opposite from the picture above. She whines and complains and throws tantrums like her sister never did. Just when I got complacent in my parenting, she was given to me to teach me how the other half live! She is difficult sometimes - today, for instance. We had maybe thirty peaceful minutes together all day. Most days are better, but she always runs hot and cold. Tantrum one minute, snuggles the next. And she's so sweet when she's not screaming - and so smart. She read her first words this week, at age 3 1/2. I was over the moon when Rachael read her first words just a couple of months before turning four, and here comes this little spitfire behind her and reads even sooner! She is my little wild card. I am petrified to be her mother. But blessed, always blessed.

One of Rachael's middle names - Grace - was decided on the very weekend after I learned that I was pregnant. In church on Sunday morning, the pastor explained the difference between mercy and grace. Mercy, he said, was God sparing us from the bad things that our sinful natures deserved. Grace, however, was the gifts that God poured upon us that we could not possibly deserve. I decided then and there that, if this child was a girl, Grace must be in her name somewhere.

Likewise with Milly, and her second middle name - Joy. We waited much longer than we had hoped before we were blessed with her, and I was overjoyed to finally have another little one on the way. Joy was obviously a perfect name for her.

And even though Rachael got a double-dose of klutzy from her parents, making her moniker more than a little ironic, she continues to be an amazing blessing to me, one that I could never, never have earned on my own.

And even on her worst days, I am overjoyed to have my Milly girl. I was ready to throw in the towel and resign myself to being mother to an only child, then there she was. I have only to think about it and my heart leaps with joy all over again.

I am doubly blessed, and could not ask for more.

* * * * *

PS - Have you entered my giveaway for an adorable cupcake headband from Glitter Bug Gallery? It ends on Sunday night, so go now and get entered! Or, if you're new to these here parts and just want to see a current picture of my Milly...those are there too. :)

Anastasia and Mariah: A (True) Tale of Two Orphans

2011-08-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, there was a story in our local newspaper about a nearby family that is in the process of adopting two little boys - both with Down syndrome - from Eastern Europe. The story blew my mind - this couple, a little younger than me, already has two children, and are undertaking the daunting task of adopting two children? And both with special needs? Wow. It boggled my mind.

And broke my heart a little, because of the little voice inside that told me, "you could never do that."

I've confessed it here before - I've felt a strong pull toward adoption for a while now. I blogged about it back in November - November! nine months ago! - that it had just hit me, that adoption was flying in my face from every direction. And it hasn't stopped. It hasn't slowed down. It's everywhere I look, even in unlikely places. I picked up book from the young adult section of the library this past week (yeah yeah, young adult = guilty pleasure) because it had a fun title and a quirky cover. It ended up being about a 14-year-old boy who is sent to live with kooky relatives for the summer, and ends up helping the small town save up money for...you guessed it, one of the townsfolk to adopt a boy from Romania. I'm telling you, it is everywhere I turn.

But back to the local family that's adopting...the article mentioned that they found their new sons online at Reece's Rainbow, an organization devoted to finding homes for orphans with Down syndrome. So, after finding the mom on Facebook and messaging her to tell her what an amazing thing I think she's doing and to let her know that they're in our prayers, I went to check out Reece's Rainbow.

And oh, the precious faces that waited for me there. SO many sweet little faces. So many sad pictures. And then, one tiny half-smile that stopped me in my tracks and took my breath away:

Meet Anastasia. She was born in April 2005, and lives in Russia. She has Down syndrome. And because she is already six years old, it is likely that she has been transferred from the "baby orphanage" into some sort of institution. No one can tell me for sure. Yes, I've emailed them to ask.

Maybe it's because her sweet little face reminds me a bit of Milly - especially with those blonde pigtails. She is clearly no more than two or so in this picture, and I want so much to know what she looks like now. What her personality is like. Whether she is healthy and well cared for.

Although I've thought a lot about adoption - as I mentioned before, it's something I've always that I'd like to do "someday" - I have never considered adopting a child with special needs. I'm too selfish, too busy, too uneducated, too (insert excuse of your choice here.) But once Anastasia's picture hit me like a ton of bricks, I started thinking a little differently.

She has Down syndrome. As far as special needs go, that one can be pretty minor. And what would happen if, say, we had a third baby that ended up having Down syndrome? It would play out a bit like this...

1) Shock and JOY at the news. Shock because it would be a complete accident, as Gene has made it clear that he doesn't want another baby. JOY for me, because babies are blessings no matter what. Gene wouldn't share in my joy at first, but he would come around.

2) Nervousness, trepidation, FEAR...when we would be told at the 20-week ultrasound that something didn't look quite right, that this measurement was off, that our baby had markers typical of Down syndrome.

3) Outrage when the doctor suggested amniocentesis to confirm or rule out Down syndrome. There are too many risks to amnio; I would never consent to it. The results would be irrelevant in any case; I would never consider terminating my child because of Down syndrome - something that does not diminish quality of life.

4) This is where I would start reading, reading, reading - every resource I could find on Down syndrome. I would be a wealth of information by the time the baby arrived - prepared for everything that I could possibly be prepared for. Learning about the possible complications and how to handle them, learning about growth and development and whatever else I would need to know to be the best mother possible to my child.

Mentally walking through those four steps brought me to a new realization - this is something that could happen to our family. Perhaps it's not likely, but it could happen, and that is how we would deal with it.

What would be so terrible about skipping steps one through three? Or at least skipping steps two and three, and maybe editing step one a bit...

Gene is, unsurprisingly, not as moved by the picture of Anastasia as I am. He admits that he doesn't feel the same call to adoption that I do...but at least he acknowledges that I do. He is, I think, overwhelmed by the enormity of international adoption, and I don't blame him one bit. It's a terrifying process - the cost alone is staggering: $25 to 30 thousand dollars to adopt a child from Russia, once you figure in travel, lodging, etc. Not to mention the piles of paperwork, the hoops to jump through, and the very idea of getting on a plane and jetting off to Russia - twice! - without my babies.

No wonder that little voice tells me that I could never do that. It does seem impossible. Honestly, with just one income, we would barely meet the minimum income to adopt from Russia, if we met it at all.

And if we did meet the minimum and did decide to pursue adoption, it would mean endless fundraisers to try to raise enough to bring her home. Oh, how I hate asking people for money! Especially when I suspect that many of them would think that we don't need it, since we already have two quite perfect children of our own. Why go to all the fuss for one more?

It's so easy to say that it's impossible. SO easy.

But what's not easy is feeling compelled to go and look at that little face just one more time. To feel my heart break a little for her every time. What's not easy is finding a reason to mention her to Gene, to turn my laptop so he can see her picture again too - hoping that just maybe, maybe this time he'll see it too - only for him to roll his eyes and ask me "what's this obsession with adoption?"

Maybe his lack of interest is God's way of telling me something...not this child, not right now, or not necessarily adoption. Maybe something else.

And maybe God will soften his heart toward adoption. Maybe the time isn't right and the answer is simply, not right now.

I am prayerfully waiting. But my heart longs for Anastasia and, were it entirely up to me, the adoption process would have already been begun.

Speaking of prayer...even if you aren't interested in adopting, there's still a way that you can help the children featured on Reece's Rainbow - or at least one special child. Consider becoming one of their Prayer Warriors. There's no cost and no obligation, other than to pray for your child each and every day until that child's forever family comes to take him/her home. Just click on the link to find out how to get started.

I am a prayer warrior for sweet little Mariah:

Mariah was born in March 2010 - also in Russia, although a different region from Anastasia. She also has Down syndrome, but is already "seeking to communicate", according to her profile page. I'm praying for her health and happiness, for the caregivers in her orphanage, and for her family to find her and come for her soon. No child should grow up without a mommy.

And while Anastasia already has a different prayer warrior, she's always in my prayers as well. If it's not me that's meant to be her mommy, then I hope whoever-it-is finds her and brings her home soon.

* * * * *

Want to read more about the family that's adopting two little boys? Here is the article that appeared in our newspaper, and here is the family's blog. They're still raising money to bring their boys home - donations and prayers are both appreciated.

Last thing: if you have ever had that little voice say "you could never do that," then HERE is a blog post worth reading. It certainly convicted me, and continues to whenever I go back to read it again...

Saturday 9

2011-08-06T07:48:00.000-07:00

Time again for the Saturday 9! Let me knock these out before I start the real fun of cleaning my messy house.

1) Have you ever lost a lover and spent way too much time wondering what they were doing?

First of all, I detest the word "lover." It triggers my gag reflex the way that some girls can't stand the word "panties." Anywho. Yes, I have given too much thought to the possible/probable activities of significant others from my recent past, back in the day when I had significant others in my recent past. Haven't had any of those in a good long while, so I can't say that they've troubled my thoughts lately.

2) What was your favorite vacation ever?

That would have been DisneyWorld in September 2007. Despite the fact that it was barely-not-summer-any-more in Florida and I was seven months pregnant with Milly, we had a blast. Gene and Rachael had never been to Disney before, and it was almost as much fun watching Gene as it was to see Rachael's little face light up at every turn. I'm quite bummed that our original plan to go again this December didn't work out...I was so hoping to spend Milly's 4th birthday there. :(

3) Do you like surprises? If yes, what kinds? Or are you one of those people who absolutely has to know what's going on before it happens?

I don't mind little surprises - gifts and whatnot. But if it's something involving attention being centered on me (parties, showers, etc.) I must know that it's coming. Not every detail, of course, but don't just spring something like that on me.

4) Have you ever written a poem? Feel free to share one. Or even a dirty limerick is OK.

There once was a girl from Nantucket... Okay, I used to write quite a bit of angsty poetry in middle/high school. Nothing that I remember exactly, or am willing to go and try to dig out of whatever box in the storage building that it may be hiding in. None of my writing has seen daylight in over a decade.

5) Did anything interesting show up in your mail lately besides the bills?

YES! Several things, actually. The adorable cupcake headbands that you'll find in the very next post down (go and win one for yourself already!) as well as something cool that will be featured and given away in my next giveaway. You'll just have to wait to find out what that is. (Hint: If you own an e-reader, you'll want to stop back by.) Also, lots and lots of books for our new school year, which starts on Monday. (If you happen to be a homeschooler, stop by my homeschool blog sometime to see what's up.)

6) How many of your friendships have lasted more than ten years? Which of your current friends do you feel will still be important to you ten years from now? Family members don't count.

I hate these questions, because I always feel like I'm leaving someone out. I would say that I've had two friends who I was really, really close to for more than ten years - but only one of which I still see/talk to on a regular basis. Current friends that will still be important in ten years...I refuse to name names, but I can think of five off the top of my head that I hope will still be in my life ten years from now. We all have vital, although varying, things in common that I'd hate to lose. (Okay, okay, stephaniecathytracikristenchandres. Happy?! Now, comment if I left you out and you're mad at me...)

7) Do you own a pet? If so, do you buy them presents for holidays? Do you consider your pet(s) spoiled? If you don't own one, do you think you will one day?

We have a dog. He's huge and stinky and drools a lot, and is basically dumb as a bag of hammers, although he can fetch like a fiend. (Mama was a Lab, so I guess it's just genetic.) He turned one back in April and got a nice bone for his birthday. Santa brought him a bag of dog treats last year. But he's not really spoiled...heck, he's not even allowed in the house any more because he's so, so stinky. And that tail hurts when he hits you with it.

8) It's Friday afternoon and you're planning your weekend. What's on your agenda on a hot August night?

My only two standard weekend activities are church and grocery shopping. I'm a barrel of excitement, aren't I? WHEE!! On a really good weekend, we'll have my dad and stepmom over for dinner and a game of Phase Ten, wherein I invariably get mad at Gene because I know he cheats; I just can't figure out how.

9) What's your worst nervous habit?

Picking at my fingernails. I've never bitten them, but I'm forever picking at them - and now Milly has started doing it too. I have warped a new generation.

Who is currently sitting on the steps having a three-year-old tantrum because I'm not letting her watching a movie while she's not picking up her toys the way that she was asked...so I should attend to that. Happy Saturday, everyone!

Time for a girly giveaway!

2011-08-05T12:23:00.000-07:00

With the mood that she's been in today, I'm quite tempted to give away this girly. But I'm not, because I'm pretty sure that it's illegal, and I'd miss her around bedtime.

When she's not being a tee total pain in my backside, she's my little cupcake - which is why I'm always on the lookout for adorable cupcakey things. They were super easy to come by when she was a baby - cupcakes were on absolutely everything then, and I'd keep snapping them up only to have her outgrow them three minutes later. So lately, I've been looking for cupcakey things that might last a little longer, like the cupcake Scentsy warmer I posted about a few weeks ago. (It still hasn't found its way into her room, but she's keeping a close eye on it.)

Recently, I was browsing Etsy for cupcakey items and stumbled across the cutest wool felt cupcake headband. Of course, Milly needed one immediately.

Aside from the utter adorableness of the cupcake itself, I love the soft, stretchy pink headband. Milly usually won't wear an around-the-head headband for very long because she says they "squeeze too tight", but this one she said was "really comfy" and she'll leave it in all day. That, of course, earns it mucho mucho brownie points in my book, because what's the point of a headband that your kid won't wear? Good photo props, sure, but sometimes you just want them to look cute for longer than five minutes. Being so stretchy, it'll last Milly for a good long time. It'll even fit her sister's gigantic noggin - although, of course, that is strictly forbidden.

(I edited this next picture just for my Pink Saturday friends, to show off the delicious pinkness!!)

Of course, another thing this headband has going for it was that I found it on Etsy - I would much rather support a person than a corporation. And there are so many wonderful people to meet on Etsy besides! Let me introduce you to one of them...

Milly's cupcake headband came from Glitter Bug Gallery, which also has lots and lots of other wool felt headbands and clippies to choose from. ALL of them are stinking adorable - I love these flowers and this caterpillar and this adorable little crab with a cute little bow on her head, which doesn't really match a thing that my girls own but I'm going to have to find something that'll go with it.

Glitter Bug Gallery is owned by Christine, who is a fellow stay-at-home mom to three quirky kids (her description, not mine!), aged 13, 9 and 7. She comes from a family of crafty women, and has always been crafty herself. In the past, she's made ornaments and magnets, and says that "so far, it has been great for Christmas money or a little extra here and there." But with her oldest child inching ever closer to college age, it's time for her to start thinking of saving for that - and so her Etsy shop was born. And it's an Etsy shop that I would love to see take off - everything is adorable and wonderfully made, and it just deserves to be seen.

Christine has generously set up a coupon code to Glitter Bug Gallery just for YOU, because you're so awesome for stopping by and reading. :) From now through September 15, enter the code junecleaver and receive 10% off the merchandise total of your purchase. Her prices are already great, which makes this an even better deal!

She also donated two of her beautiful cupcake headbands to JCWBS - one to be used and reviewed, and one to give away to one lucky reader!

Prize: To be completely honest, I liked the one with the dark pink headband better, but I was overruled by my children. So YOU can win it instead!

To enter: Go visit Glitter Bug Gallery at Etsy, then leave me a comment to tell me which of her designs is your very favorite. And good luck with that, because it's going to be hard to choose! As always, please be sure to leave your email address with your comment so I can contact you if you win.

Additional entries:

"Like" Glitter Bug Gallery on Facebook and leave her a note to let her know I sent you.
Use that coupon code to snag some cuteness of your own - tell us what you bought in your comment! (+5)
Suggest a new design for Glitter Bug Gallery that you'd like for the special little girl in your life and count it as one entry!
Follow June Cleaver Would Be Shocked via GFC.
"Like" June Cleaver Would Be Shocked on Facebook.
Follow me on Twitter.
Snag my button (top right of this page) and add it to your blog. Leave a link in your comment!
Blog about this giveway and leave me a link! (+2)
Tweet about this giveaway - may be done once per day, for one entry each day.
Subscribe to this blog via email - just look near the top right for that too. :)

Contest ends: 11:59 PM EST on Sunday, August 14. Winner will be chosen by random number generator and emailed immediately. Please contact me within 48 hours to claim the prize, or a new winner will be chosen.

Good luck, everyone!

P.S. - My friend's beautiful daughter Penelope passed away at only 33 days old due to complications of congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH). Vivint is having a contest through August 27; the charity that receives the most votes will receive $250,000 for research. CHERUBS needs funding for CDH research. Will you please go vote? It takes three clicks of your mouse and less than thirty seconds of your time to help these sweet babies. You can vote once every day. You can also read about Penelope on the CHERUBS website, here, and join the "voting in memory of Penelope" Facebook group (if you'd like to leave a note for her mom) here. But most of all, just vote-vote-vote. Her mom never got to bring her home, but she did love to put pretty things in Penelope's hair...so voting in her memory really is relevant to this giveaway!

Randomness!

2011-08-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

I have just discovered the Thursday 13, which is "a weekly meme with a simple theme: each Thursday you blog a list of 13 things. What kind of things? Any kind! Just come up with a list theme and run with it."

Hey, I can come up with 13 things! I'm not very good with coming up with a theme for them off the top of my head, but I shall work on that for next week. Meanwhile, please enjoy 13 very random thoughts...and then go post 13 of your own.

1) The word "random" makes me think immediately of random dancing from iCarly, which is the current (and long-standing) favorite "whole family" show in our house. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Carly is a teenage girl who airs a live webshow with her two best friends. It's all very techy, and occasionally a voice will announce "RANDOM...DANCING!" and everyone must stop what they're doing and dance. It's all very random. And fun. Life would be more fun if there was random dancing everywhere.

2) Neither my husband nor my older daughter are able to find things on their own. Even if I tell them, "please get the blue hairbrush off of the bathroom counter," and if the blue hairbrush is indeed lying on the bathroom counter, in plain view, with no clutter around it...they will not be able to see the blue hairbrush. This must be a genetic defect. Thankfully, Milly does

not suffer from this particular chromosomal abnormality.

3) My husband is currently sitting beside me on the couch watching a movie on his laptop. This is very annoying because a) it's nothing that I would ever choose to watch (ie, I'm not interested), b) he has to listen to it at max volume, and c) the children are playing outside, so the house would be nice and quiet if not for him.

4) After being snipped at and asked to turn it down to just half-past blasting, he has now donned headphones. Victory is mine.

5) Rachael is obsessed with tree frogs. I have no idea from whence this obsession came. We were in Dollar Tree last night when she spotted a book with a tree frog on the cover, and it simply had to come home with us. (She has learned that I will rarely turn down pleas for a book - especially a cheap book.)

6) There will be a brand new giveaway posted right here tomorrow. Uh-huh, that one crept up on ya, didn't it? I'm pretty excited about it. Check back to see what's up, especially if you have a little girl too.

7) I've spent far too much time today stalking Facebook for updates from Scentsy's annual convention in Forth Worth. (I didn't even consider going this year, once I found out where it would be held. Texas in the summer? I don't think so. It's a bazillion degrees in Virginia; I'd absolutely melt in Texas.) Anyway, there are tons of new things coming out in September, and I want them all.

8) Plastic bags make great parachutes for stuffed animals. Combine with an open floor plan so that stuffed animals may be tossed from upstairs to downstairs, and you have a toy that will occupy two children for an entire week. I kid you not.

9) I swore that I would never be "that mom" who succumbs to second-child syndrome - you know, where you have exactly one framed photo of the baby in your living room, but 22 of your older child. (Why my friend Cathy thinks that I fault her for not being quick to hang pictures of baby number four is beyond me.) Anyway, I have at least scrapbooked lots and lots of pictures of Milly...those just aren't readily apparent when you walk into my house.

10) While cleaning off our overflowing homeschool shelf this morning, I realized that we hadn't read the last three chapters of last year's history book. So we did. I learned that the Roman emperor's sister, Honoria, betrothed to a man she detested, actually wrote a letter to Attila the Hun promising to marry him if he would just come and rescue her from her miserable life. Yeah, it must really stink being sister to the emperor. (It didn't work, by the way.)

11) I have read 20 books since June 1 - a combined total of 5,918 pages, which averages out to 295.9 pages per book. That doesn't include newspaper and magazine articles, blogs, anything read on my Kindle, or the pages already read in the four books I'm reading simultaneously at the moment. (I'm such a multi-tasker.) I only started keeping up with them because of our library's summer reading program, but it's so much fun logging them all at Shelfari that I think I'll keep it up.

12) Last night, I knocked a pitcher of tea out of the fridge. It landed upside on the floor and made a huge mess. I'm glad no one else was awake to witness that.

13) I'm trying hard to resist the urge to wander into the kitchen and whip up a batch of peanut butter cookies. I'm obviously not allowed to bake anything without two little pairs of hands "helping" (which I usually don't mind, but it's been a long day) and then they'd want to stay up to have cookies. It's way too close to bedtime for that mess - they'd never go to sleep. Maybe some celebratory It's-Friday cookies tomorrow...even though "Friday" really doesn't mean much in our house any more. Saturday is the new Friday, and the weekend was shortened by a day. (Thanks, Utz!)

Wow, thirteen items of randomness was a tad more difficult than I thought...suggestions are welcome for a theme for next Thursday!

Pictures don't lie...or do they?

2011-07-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

My girls spent the whole of last weekend with my mom and stepdad. Over the course of two nights, they ate enough junk food for a whole herd of children, and didn't drink a single glass of water. They slept in the same room as Gramma and Grandpa (something I was never allowed to do as a child), and their every whim was basically catered to. Milly got her pancakes for breakfast and her Strawberry Shortcake Happy Meal, Rachael commandeered Gramma's laptop and had Grandpa Tommy haul his kids' outgrown scooter out of the basement for her to ride.

And both girls came home with brand new pink bicycles.

Rachael got her first tricycle at approximately one year of age, and we've been attempting to teach her to pedal ever since. The poor child - who has unfortunately inherited a double dose of clumsiness from her parents - just couldn't get the hang of making her feet go around in circles. She'd go forward a little and then back a little - which, of course, applies the brakes and makes everything stop. This has been the source of much parental frustration, and Rachael had eventually decided that she didn't want to learn to ride a bike anyway, so there.

Enter Grandpa Tommy. He knew that Milly would love riding a bike, and he was right. The child jumped right on like she was born on the thing and took off. He was more concerned that Rachael didn't know how to ride, though - and it was he (not my mom, as I originally believed) who bought their bikes.

It was also he who, perhaps not fully understanding that Rachael didn't even know the mechanics of pedaling, started pushing her down the long hill in front of their house and then let go. Rachael panicked, but had the presence of mind to aim for a neighbor's grass before the bike toppled over.

By the time I came to pick them up on Sunday afternoon, though, both girls were riding in large circles around the garage, which had been cleared of cars and motorcycle to make room for them to play. I was both shocked and thrilled that Rachael had finally - finally! - learned to pedal. Not only that, but she now thought that riding a bike was fun!

So we loaded the bikes into the back of my van and brought them home, where we promptly parked them in the living room to keep them safe from the big stinky dog. And there they sat, because it's been a kazillion degrees outside, with no chance of letting up anytime in the near future.

After much nagging from the girls ("Can we go to the park and ride bikes? Pleeeease? I want to go ride bikes! Bikes? Please, bikes?") and much mommy/daddy guilt over not taking them to ride bikes just because we wanted to die every time we walked out the door...we finally took them to the park to ride bikes yesterday.

And this is when I was reminded that pictures can, in fact, lie. Take the photo above. It looks like Rachael is having a great time whizzing along on her bike, doesn't it? Someday, someone (maybe me) will come across this picture tucked into a family photo album (if I ever get them caught up) and remember fondly their own childhood bike rides. The freedom of flying down the road, the wind in your hair. Bikes are great, aren't they? And aww, look at this - Rachael learned to ride when she was little too, and she clearly loved it!

Well, the truth is, there was much whining and complaining last night. For one thing, it was still a kazillion degrees outside - a fact that she took into no consideration whatsoever until we actually got out of the van at the park. For another thing, she leaned so heavily on one training wheel the whole time we were there that she simply couldn't go fast at all - slugs breezed by her with reckless abandon. It is harder to ride a bike slowly, so she got tired of trying in a hurry - she made maybe three laps around the parking area to Milly's 20+ laps. And it must stink to watch your baby sister lapping you over...and over...and over...

Milly is clearly more coordinated than her big sister. She already roller skates and rides a bike better than Rachael, and is more willing and graceful in their swim lessons. She's less fearful and less cautious, although still not exactly a daredevil (thank you, Lord!)

Rachael definitely notices, and it doesn't make her happy...but as I keep telling her, she has to WANT to do these things, and then work at them, before she'll ever be good at them.

Anywho. Back to my photo epiphany...pictures lie. Rachael seems to be enjoying riding in the above picture. All of them evoke mental images of pleasant childhood summer evenings - and thankfully, they always will. Eventually, the memories of dripping sweat in the hot sun while watching them ride their bikes will fade. I'll forget how irritating it was to have to tell Rachael over and over and over to "sit up straight" and "just keep pedaling" and "why are you stopping again?" and "just KEEP! PEDALING!"

Thank goodness for cameras, and the ability to freeze the precious moments of the years while my girls are small...and for the sugarcoating tendencies of the human mind, that will look at them again someday and only see the happy. Maybe Rachael will even find the first picture someday and think, "wow, look at me go...I was really leaving Milly in the dust!"

Buzz Buzz

2011-07-25T20:09:00.000-07:00

I opened my eyes to Gene's urgent insistence that I get out of bed right now. The room was pitch black. I was sure that I hadn't been asleep long - I had gone to bed early-ish (for me) but gotten engrossed in a book that I ultimately finished around 1 a.m. Surely I had just turned off the light? But something must be horribly wrong, so I sprang out of bed and into the hallway.

Gene was in the kitchen, looking frantic. I could barely make out the time on the oven: 4:06 a.m. This had better be important.

He had already tried to leave for work, dutifully taking out the bags of trash I had left by the front door. He was between trash and truck when he felt the first sting on his hand, and brushed something away.

Once he had gotten inside his truck and turned on ignition and lights, the second sting came. And the third. And then he made out the shapes of something flying around in the dark...

The poor guy had ticked off a bunch of yellow jackets, and they reacted the same way that I tend to when woken in the middle of the night. Things got nasty.

Things even got inside his shirt, although he didn't realize it until he had come back inside the house. The sight of him whipping off his shirt when he felt them moving, and then dancing and flapping around the kitchen...well, it managed to be humorous even at 4 a.m. Of course, I was upstairs and not in the line of fire.

He killed the bees that fell out of his shirt - three of them, I think. He checked the rest of his clothes. He finally went and closed the front door before the rest of them could swarm inside - we were lucky that he wasn't followed.

But now he had a dilemma. His truck was running, but there were clearly yellow jackets flying around the cab. And we didn't have anything to kill them with.

He stood around and fretted for a little while - what to do, what to do? He was already late, this was going to throw his entire day off. The only thing for him to do, I told him, was to get into one of the other vehicles, drive to the nearest convenience store (about three miles away) and buy some bee spray.

"I don't have time for that!," he said.

"You don't have time to keep standing here, either." (To my credit, I think I managed not to roll my eyes.)

So, with flashlight in hand, he ran as quickly as I've ever seen him move out to the car, and dashed off to the store. He returned with a can of Hot Shot labeled "flying insects", and sprayed down the front of his truck. It worked well enough - if not to kill them, then at least to persuade them to leave - and he was soon on his way to work.

Around 6:30, I finally got back to sleep...just to get up an hour later. Joy.

I was a paranoid mess all morning, because one rogue bee had decided to hang around - I had seen it flitting around the kitchen light, but it never landed where I could see it, or got close enough for me to swat with the rolled-up newspaper that was my new best friend. Eventually, I stopped seeing it...and then my girls pointed out a dead bee on the floor in front of the door. I'm guessing - and optimistically assuming - that it was the one and only.

With him out of the way, the day took on the tone of a normal Monday...just a Monday with a really bad beginning, ha ha.

And then it was time to leave the house.

I had backed my van up to the door the night before, in order to more easily unload the new bikes that had accompanied my girls home from their weekend with Gramma and Grandpa Tommy. As I started to open the door, I saw it - a yellow jacket crawling across the back of my van. Less than a foot away from the door. And in no hurry to leave.

Once he finally buzzed off, I grabbed the can of bee spray and darted outside. Gene had blocked my van in with the car, so I needed to move it out of the way. Walking around the van, I saw that the little jerk was now hanging out on the hood, so I gave him a good shot with the spray. It annoyed him just enough to make him leave. I jumped in the car and got a good scare when a yellow jacket flew toward me from the right - thank goodness, he was on the outside of the car, but that took a few seconds to register.

I managed to get everyone in the van (everyone being myself, my two girls, and their two friends) without incident...although I admit, we jumped in and slammed doors and didn't worry one iota about carseats or seatbelts until we reached the end of the driveway, which is a nice little hike from the front door.

That accomplished, I headed for the gas station, breathing freely for the first time all day. I was free and clear, leaving the bee drama behind me. Even a trip to the grocery store sounded okay in comparison.

At the gas station, I swiped the debit card and put the nozzle into the gas tank...and when I turned around to select the fuel grade, darned if a stinking yellow jacket didn't fly around from the back of my van and land on the pump in front of me.

NOW THE STUPID THINGS WERE HITCHHIKING!!

Seriously?! SERIOUSLY?! Okay...I kept my distance, got my gas, managed to get the gas cap back on and nozzle back in the proper place before leaping back into the van. (The bee had been distracted by a bit of food someone had left on the ground, thank goodness.)

We headed across the street to make a deposit at the bank - and another one crawled across my windshield.

I was never going to escape.

Thankfully, that was the last one that I saw - although I was paranoid every time we stopped for the rest of the afternoon. And let me tell ya, maneuvering groceries from van to house once we were finished involved some pretty stealthy moves. There were more bees outside, but no more got close.

I had picked up more bee spray at the grocery store - meant specifically for wasps and hornets - and Gene bravely headed outside after work to try to locate and annihilate the source. He didn't find it. I don't think he looked that hard, and I can't say I blame him. Poor guy was traumatized this morning.

I took a look at his stings before bed - there were at least six, and one looked as though he might have been stung several times in the same spot. I hear that yellow jacket stings are very painful, but he's being a trooper. We're both thankful that he wasn't allergic to them.

Before he went to bed, I asked him to please not wake me up at 4 a.m. tomorrow. He asked me to please not leave him trash to take out. I guess that's a pretty fair deal.

10 Things I've Learned Today

2011-07-23T19:54:00.000-07:00

1) Even when my children aren't home, I'm going to wake up at 6:30...and 7:15...and 7:45...just waiting for a little blonde head to pop up over the edge of the bed and demand food.

2) The house is eerily - and sadly - quiet without them. (I knew this already. Just got a reminder today.)

3) It's definitely worth checking the "damaged" section when shopping for a major appliance. We found the $800 dryer that we'd looked at earlier in the week for only $640 - because it had a little dent in the BACK left side, where no one will ever see it again. (SCORE!!)

4) I learned what a pain in the butt it is to help your husband maneuver a dryer through a door, around the kitchen, and into place.

5) Having not had a new dryer in twelve years, I learned that ALL new dryers have sensors that allow them to turn off when the clothes are finished drying, instead of running all the way through the cycle. (Yay for being more energy efficient!)

6) I also learned that my new dryer will dry a load of clothes in 35 MINUTES, Y'ALL that it would have taken the old dryer two hours to dry.

7) I learned that I'm a very boring - and likely very old - person for being this excited about a new dryer.

8) If hubby leaves the back doors open on his Utz truck, our very large, very smelly dog will seize the opportunity to jump inside. Thankfully, he was only interested in an empty Mt Dew bottle, and not the boxes and boxes of potato chips. (That could have been bad.)

-- 8b) Gene learned to close the doors on his truck.

9) I learned that two nights without my girls is entirely too long - even though they're having a blast with Gramma and Grandpa Tommy, and being spoiled rotten with Happy Meals and new bicycles.

10) I learned that I am too sensitive (again, a reminder and not new knowledge) and, apparently, a bad friend to boot.

* * * * *

On a happier note, though, how about a little something for Pink Saturday?

I'm looking at the delicious pink of her lips and cheeks, since the pink in her dress doesn't come through as well as the orange. But the pink in her lips is enough...

This is my baby girl, my Amelia...Milly...who is 3 1/2 but wants to be 16, since that's her favorite number. (Everything is "16" these days. She told me today that she was staying at Gramma's for 16 more days. I don't think so, sweetie!)

We stopped at a nearby park for a little photo shoot one morning this past week, just after dropping her big sister off at her Junior Naturalist camp at the museum. Milly was a great little model - unexpectedly so, to tell you the truth. Her sister is usually the girly, pose-y, take-a-picture-of-me type. Which makes this picture (and the 194 others I took that morning) of my Booga that much more precious to me.

* * * * *

Part of Pink Saturday is meeting new people - well, visiting new blogs - so I thought I'd share about a new favorite that I stumbled across last Saturday: Dear Helen Hartman. Modern problems, timeless wisdom, vintage attitude. She kind of reminds me of my grandma - the one I liked best - although she's way younger. I just really want to be her friend or neighbor or something. :)

* * * * *

Alrighty, now for the Saturday 9! Be sure to let me know if you join in so I can come check out your answers too.

1) Tell us about the most recent wedding you attended.

- I haven't been to a wedding in ages. The last one may have actually been in January 2006 - the daughter of our then-pastor. It was lovely - she's a beautiful woman and looked just like a princess. Rachael, who was very nearly two then, actually called her Cinderella. Rachael also let me roll her hair in curlers before the wedding, but all the curl fell out before we got there. Poor kid got her daddy's stick-straight hair.

2) Do you enjoy attending weddings, or do they bore you to tears?
- I enjoy them, but they always make me cry. Of course, most things do.

3) Does marriage in general make you feel confident and good inside, or skeptical?

- It depends on the day. For the most part, I'd go with the former description...although some days, I'm certain it would be far easier to ditch the man and get a cat.

4) Do you have a photo blog? (If so, feel free to share the link with us.)

- Not a photo blog per se, but I do have one devoted solely to my digital scrapbooking.

5) Do you find yourself driving less due to the high gas prices?

- More and more frequently, yes. My van is a gas guzzler, so I need to knock off some of the more frivolous outings.

6) What's the high temperature today where you are?

- I'm not sure exactly...it's been hovering between 90 and 100 all week. The high tomorrow is supposed to be 95. Just shoot me now.

7) "It's not the heat, it's the humidity." Agree, or no?

- Mostly. Heat is wretched, but humidity just makes it that much more wretched. When I step outside and it feels like I'm slogging through a bowl of oatmeal, it immediately turns into a good day to stay in the house.

8) What's the hottest you've ever been in your life?

- This past Monday - about 100 degrees outside - sitting by the therapy pool in the YMCA during my girls' swim lesson. It was like a sauna in the desert in there. Just dripping sweat. I may have to take my own swimsuit next time so I can jump in too...or abandon the kiddos and go sit somewhere that's actually air conditioned.

9) Non-temperature related last question: In your opinion...who's hot?

- Taylor Lautner. Retracting my cougar claws now...but seriously. He just is.

Blue

2011-07-19T18:58:00.001-07:00

Ever have one of those days where nothing really goes wrong, but it all feels wrong anyway?

And it kind of feels like nothing will ever be any better?

Yeah, that's the kind of day I've had.

Everything seems to be just hunky-dory for everyone else, and I'm glad...I just need to rediscover my own personal happy.

No one seems to be pointing it out to me. Must be a DIY thing.

One thing that does always make me feel better is music...either my custom stations on Pandora (how I adore that site!) or K-LOVE. In fact, it's pretty rare that I listen to K-LOVE and don't hear something that speaks to exactly what I'm feeling at the moment.

I heard two such songs this evening on my way to and from Zumba:

"When every step is so hard to take

And all of my hope is fading away

When life is a mountain that I can not climb

You carry me...Jesus, carry me.

You are the strength in my weakness

You are the refuge I seek

You are everything in my time of need

You are everything I need."

(Listen on YouTube: Everything I Need by Kutless)

And:

"I know I'm not strong enough to be

Everything that I'm supposed to be

I give up

I'm not strong enough

Hands of mercy, won't you cover me

Lord right now I'm asking you to be

Strong enough

For the both of us.

'Cause I'm broken

Down to nothing

But I'm still holding on to the one thing

You are God

And You are strong

When I am weak...

I can do all things

Through Christ who gives me strength

And I don't have to be

Strong enough."

(Listen on YouTube: Strong Enough by Matthew West)

The Return of Pink Saturday & the Saturday 9

2011-07-16T09:20:00.001-07:00

I've been out of the Pink Saturday and Saturday 9 loop for far too long, and I've missed it...and since I just unpacked something that reminded me, I thought I'd better come do it now. :)

Here's my entry for Pink Saturday:

Isn't it great? It's my new all-time favorite Scentsy warmer. They release a new "warmer of the month" each month, and I was soooo excited when this one popped up for July. After putting in a party and getting my consultant perks (heehee), I snagged this warmer and TEN bars to go with it for $8.50. Hard to beat, right? For everyone else, this one is on sale this month for $22.50...but I can help you get it cheaper if anyone is interested. You can read all about it HERE.

So yeah, mine just came out of the box this morning - for the time being, it's up on the mantle where everyone can admire the cuteness, and smelling like yummy Irish Cream. Milly - having always been my little cupcake and knowing that she's the cupcake - tried to claim it the moment she saw it. I told her that it'd probably end up in her room eventually, but for now, it's mine mine mine! It's not like I "splurge" on myself often, even if it is my own Scentsy stuff.

NOW, for the Saturday 9! Let me know if you join in the randomness so I can come read, okay?

1) Do you believe in the concept of the devil?

I don't believe that he's a concept; I know that he's real, and I hate him.

2) What's your favorite nickname that you're called?

MOMMY. It will always, always be Mommy...even when it's rapid-fire mommymommymommymommymommy, 2934857243957 times each day. I love it. I'm not sure there's a sweeter nickname to be had, and I'll be so sad when it's shortened to "Mom."

3) What would you do if someone cheated on you?

It's so hard to say until you're actually in that position, and I hope never to find out. I imagine that I would have a hard time forgiving that particular offense, though.

4) Do you ever cry at a movie?

Do I ever not cry at a movie? Geez, I cry at toilet paper commercials any more. It takes nothing to start the waterworks.

5) Have you got "a ball & chain" or are you single? Are you happy with your status?

I have a ball and chain, and I'm very happy with my status. Granted, there are days that I daydream of shipping him back to his dad's basement so maybe I could go five minutes without finding a wadded up sock in my living room floor, but I'm fairly certain that I'm not cut out to be a single mother. It would really cut into homeschooling and whatnot. So I guess I'll keep him.

6) Who do you go to for advice?

It really depends on the subject matter. Sometimes the hubby, sometimes my mom, sometimes a friend. Sometimes Facebook, if it's something random and not terribly pressing. I tend to seek out the person who I think will be able to best relate to what I need to know. (Einstein once said something along the lines of, "I don't need to know all the answers - just where to find them.")

7) When was the last time someone yelled at you?

This morning - the children went ballistic when their Papa (my father-in-law) showed up just as I was rolling out of bed. They kindly yelled upstairs to alert me that I had approximately thirteen seconds to procure suitable clothing, brush my hair and teeth, and generally start acting like I'd been awake for a while. *sigh*

8) When was the last time you spoke with someone that you met online?

Yesterday...since I met my closest friend online two years ago, I actually talk to "someone that I met online" quite often!

9) Where did you go on your honeymoon?

Williamsburg and Virginia Beach. I know, I know - oh so exotic and romantic. More like close-to-home and not-crazy-expensive. We had a blast at Colonial Williamsburg, Busch Gardens, and the beach, though...I mean, I got to swim with a duck. How often does that happen?!