Jesus books make me sin

We were on our way from the Y to pick up Olivia at school this morning. The boys have an assortment of books they enjoy on our rides around town. On any given day, one book is the current fave. Lately, the favorite has been Jesus Loves Me. (Mostly 'cuz I'm such a good mom and because they are spiritually advanced for their age!)

Quinn was the first to request "Jesus Bookie" (okay, so they might not be as verbally advanced, but we like to keep our priorities.) As soon as I handed Quinn the Jesus Bookie, Turner began to demand the Jesus Bookie. At which point Quinn began to *more thoroughly* and *more actively* enjoy the Jesus Bookie. Meaning he began waving it around, turning on and off the over head light with it (about 50 times) pretty much taunting his brother with the Jesus Bookie.

The WHOLE time, Turner just screamed over and over again, "JESUS BOOKIE!" Finally, out of the corner of my eye (after nearly 10 minutes of taunting) I noticed Quinn no longer had the book in his hand. "Quinn, what did you do with the Jesus Book? Did you give it to Turner?" After a small glance over my shoulder I noticed Turner did NOT have the book and he was still silently crying at this point. Then there it was, the sliest, orneriest, most sinfully satisfied smile on Quinn's face and directly behind that face/head was the Jesus Book, being used as a pillow. That stinker was NOT going to give up the book.

Finally, I convinced Quinn to give Turner a turn. I bribed him with a chance at the Buckeye book (because, yes, at our house... second behind Jesus books come OSU Buckeye books.) Quinn handed the Jesus Bookie over to Turner and delightfully took the Buckeye book. And instantly Turner demanded the Buckeye book. Doesn't it say something in that there Jesus book about coveting? Yeah, just checking.

On a more *encouraging* note, after we picked up O from school, I made the boys lunch, set O up with a snack only to find some sort of explosion had happened in the dress up box. When I asked Olivia what had happened she answered, "That's okay mom... you can pick it up. Its what you do!"

BTW, what IS the going rate for a housekeeper these days? 'Cuz I'm due some back pay.

just can't get enough

Of these faces!

That's all I got.

Somedays, that's enough!

out with the old, in with the new

Now tell me honestly, does this look like the face of a woman adverse to change?

(Those who know me well are doubled over, wetting themselves as they laugh hysterically.)

Because, yes, indeed my face would appear next to the definition of change adverse.
But its not my fault. I just can't seem to help it.
As of this morning (or was it last night?) at 12am, we no longer have a home phone. Or as some of the young folk call it, a *land line.* As for me... I L.O.V.E. my home phone. I love our number, I love the way it used to roll off the tip of my tongue. I love that the voice mail proudly announced that this was OUR home and that you could leave a message. (I did hate the actual phone. My mom got us a QVC *deal* years ago and it has required a monthly battery change, but hey, no love is perfect, right?)

I was up from 3 'til 4:30 in the morning last night with lots of stuff on my mind. But one of those things was the loss of my home phone. I know its stupid, but I was seriously worried. You see, its complicated. We're not actually getting rid of our number (we need it for our security system... that's FYI to all you burglars out there) but instead, you can call me... I just don't have caller ID anymore, so I can't screen you. We also no longer have voice mail, so you can't leave me a message. I can call in town (for $.04 a minute) but I can't make long distance calls.

So after losing sleep, Steve went up to the attic, blew the dust off of THAT bad boy (yep, that is a vintage, one of a kind, answering machine!) and set it up for me. It's next stop will be the Smithsonian. No worries now!

Except for the fact, that if you know ANYTHING about me you know that I N.E.V.E.R. know where my cell phone is.

And if I do know where it is, its probably not charged.

And if its charged, its probably buried deep in the recesses of one of my 5 bags that I lug around.

So, this is me, coming into the Zero's (aughts, tens... what ARE we going to call this century we're in???) And along side of my cell is our Ipod NANO. We got it in November and have yet to put music on it. It's not that we're stupid (right?) its more like we're intimidated. Or shy. Or lazy. Yeah, lazy. That seems like the best option (ouch, that's not saying much is it?)

Once upon a time I was a hip, youthful 20 something living in NYC... carrying around my tape playing Walkman. ahhhh.. the good 'ole days.

Just call me Gumby

Because this is UD's spring break week, my day started off a bit different (Normal Thursdays are my day on campus thereby getting me out of O's school pick up). Instead of leaving for the Y at 8:30, we were heading out at 9 instead (gasp!) It really felt weird to not the do the *normal.* And then the phone rang at 8:30. It was my friend Susie, whose husband has been out of the country all week, leaving her at home with 3 kids. She invited us to meet them at the local Children's Museum that is only 7 minutes from our house and that we never go to.

My first answer was, "Sorry, we are headed to the Y and my plan was to shower there. So we can't." And then the little voice in my head spoke loud and clear, "You complain all the time that you rarely do things with friends. You are trying to be more flexible. Poor Susie has been with the kids all week by herself. YOU SHOULD GO!"
So I surprised both her and myself by saying, "Forget it, you know what, I'll shower here and meet you there in a half an hour." I jumped in the shower, got the boys in the van and headed out.

And then I remembered the reason we don't go to this museum.

It's HARD to keep these boys in sight. They are so different and they like different things. Not to mention, Turner doesn't obey. Worth a lick.

But he DOES play in water. And he does it with a vengeance. After 3 minutes he was wet from head to toe. And *then* I saw the sign that said PLEASE HAVE CHILDREN ROLL UP SLEEVES AND WEAR RUBBER APRON. Yep, would have been helpful 3 minutes ago.
When the boys were good and wet we moved on. This hands on museum is undoubtedly cool. And has tons of fun activities. And if I came equipped with my own fleet of babysitters (Susie suggested a leash, I suggested shock collars) the museum would be a great idea.

I mean, where else does Turner get to channel his inner construction worker? The problem (Ha!) ackhem, ONE of the problems is that he doesn't stay at any activity for more than 2 minutes. Just enough time for Quinn to warm up to the activity, and he's off to the next thing.

The good news, I only lost one kid. Turner was in a time out on the second floor of the museum(his 4th one of the morning) when Quinn went down a slide that takes you all the way to the lower level of the museum. I was torn. A kid in time out needs to stay in time out... right? But a kid on the loose a whole floor beneath you takes precedence... right? So I actually stood there frozen, paralyzed for about 15 seconds, running all my options through my frazzled head. Thankfully, Susie went down to the second floor and also sent her 4 year old son on a reconnaissance mission to locate Quinn. I whisked Turner out of time out, ran downstairs, grabbed Quinn and we headed back to...

the water zone. It was the one place they both enjoyed and stayed put.

It was also the place where my sons officially became hillbillies.

They were both so wet, I stripped them down to their pants and let them go for another chunk of time. Until they started pouring water down their diapers. I declared water time over, where Quinn declared it tantrum time. He pitched a full-blown 2 year old fit of all fits. Including laying on his belly, shrieking at the top of his lungs and pounding fists on the ground while kicking his feet. (Susie's kids, meanwhile, followed her obediently through the museum, holding hands with each other and basically being cute and huggable.) yep, hate her.

I put him in time out where he screamed and wailed. In the meantime I followed Turner nearby while sympathetic on lookers gave me sad faces as if to say, "Bless his little heart." Ummm... no! Bless my little heart thankyouverymuch! Unfortunately, they missed the tantrum that lead to the time out.

What I determined from this morning's outing? First, only be friends with those who have kids equally naughty as yours. Second, flexibility is HIGHLY over rated! There's a reason I've remained inflexible over these past 37 years... and I like it there. But hey, flexibility makes for great photo ops and funny blog posts. I guess I can continue to give it a whirl.

Guilt complex

I feel like my life can be shrouded by guilt some days. I don't want to walk around with a cloud of oppression hanging over me. I want to walk around in freedom. Freedom to do the stuff I do, not because I feel like I have to or I should, but because I really want to and am genuinely happy to do so.

I recently came across a blog that helped me put some things into perspective. Layla Grace is a blog not for the faint of heart. It is a family's journey of saying good bye to their 2 year old daughter who is dying from cancer. It is gut wrenching, but has also helped me approach my recent days from a different perspective.
Yesterday Olivia asked if we could make cookies. My initial thought/feeling was, "Man, I really don't want to make cookies today." But then my thoughts went to this mom who would probably give her right arm to bake cookies with her daughter, rather than hold her while she dies. So... we made cookies.

But during the cookie making process, I found myself getting frustrated that my 4 year old did not do everything the way I thought she ought.

A few times throughout the process I was able to take a step back and catch myself and say, "It's not about perfect cookies or clean floors. Its about spending this time with Olivia. Enjoy it for what it is." That helped- a little. I feel guilty that my automatic default isn't *enjoy the moment*, but its focused on the mess, the extra work, the details.
Even right now as I type this, I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I would love to take a nap. Not even sleep, but maybe just lay down on the couch. Close my eyes. But if I did, I'm not sure I'd even enjoy it because there are a million other things *I should be doing.* Laundry, emails, phone calls, cleaning, reading, blogging...

The other day at my parents my dad paid me a huge compliment. He said, "The reason you're so slim (which I've NEVER been called slim by him or anyone else for that matter in my whole life) is because you run after those kids all day long." (I didn't have the heart to tell him its actually from all of the lifting and stretching I do to get to the cookie boxes I keep stashed up on the highest shelf so that I can't get to them.) Nice compliment, but its true (not the slim part, the part about running after the kids all day long). I'm not sure I often sit and enjoy the moments. I run around like a dang chicken with its head cut off.
The guilt I might experience during a nap sends me sky high.

Oh, trust me, I know all the self talk! Take care of yourself. Its not wrong to lay down during the day. You're kids are going to be gone before you know it... take time to savor the moment. All are well and good, but REALLY hard to practice day in and day out.

So, I'm trying to get past the guilt. To know there will be good days and bad days.

But for now, after I go stretch and pull for the Thin Mints on the top shelf, I'm gonna lay down on the couch, close my eyes and savor the moment. Then, its back to the headless chicken routine.

More than I bargained for

Our church, Apex Community, sent me to a *little* conference a month ago. There were about 3,000 people from all over the country and about 30 of us from Apex. The conference was about missional communities. If that sounds weird, its not. Its a fancy word for people who love Jesus living in community with others who also love Jesus and as a result of people living and loving, their neighborhoods and communities are changed for the glory of God.

The conference was really good (and also really cold! It was about 45 degrees in Texas that weekend but they had the air conditioning on the whole time. I didn't quite understand the rationale behind that decision, must have been a guy working the thermostat! They didn't give us comment cards... oh but if they had!)

Anyhow, the whole point of this post is that I came back from that conference all messed up. You see, up until now, I couldn't WAIT to get the heck outta this neighborhood. Don't get me wrong. We live in a sweet neighborhood. It is quaint and charming and neighborly. But it is inner city-ish. There are no other kids here. The public schools stink. And although I have a love for ALL things city (hey, at one time I called both NYC and Shanghai, China home... and loved every second of it) this 37 year old mommy of three was starting to get the suburban itch.

Yeah, I'm talking white picket fence, my house looks like all the other ones on the block, a fenced in backyard that backs up into yours, blue ribbon schools, perhaps even a cul de sac. (The 20 year old version of myself just slapped me in the face and then threw up just thinking about such a life.) But hey, there's a time and a place for everything, right?! And this here cracker has put in her city time... it's time for a break.

But wait a minute. I got back from this conference and started talking about staying put (not necessarily in our house, but... maybe.) Olivia is doing well at her Dayton Public pre-school. We're starting to build relationships with people we would probably never get to know otherwise. We've had a chance to be blessed and be a blessing there. It's only $25 a year AND they are moving to a brand new state of the art facility a year from now.

I started thinking about what happens to the city if lots of resourced Jesus lovers are always moving to the suburbs. Its not enough for me to come into the city once a month and serve the homeless a dinner. Maybe our family can make a dent in God's Kingdom by staying put.

But here's the thing, I don't really want to. I want to go where its comfy. Where my kids will be around people mostly like themselves. Where I have other stay at home moms on my street to be friends with and hang out with. I'm just not sure that's what God wants from me. Shoot.

So, our house is on the market. If we sell, we sell. (If we move, who knows where we'll really end up.) If we stay, we stay. I feel like I'm in a place of total surrender. (Well, maybe not TOTAL, but maybe more like surrender-ish.) Its funny, we've looked at homes in our suburban price range here in the city and there aren't any. If we go $80,000 under we start to see some. Its interesting, if we stay, economically we will live under our means and that would open us up to be even more of a blessing to others. And to me, that sounds really intriguing.

That's the state of our union. I guess the lesson here is be careful of attending conferences paid for by your church (they'll only mess you up) and if you go to Texas in February, take a parka... its cold inside!

Turning over a new leaf

Friday afternoon, after we picked Olivia up from school, we packed up the van and headed north to visit my parents. We dropped Baxter off at a kennel that is a stone's throw off of I-75 and then we kept on trucking. As soon as we dropped Baxter off, the weather turned on us. I guess if I had been at all interested in the weather up North, rather than the Bachelor, American Idol, the Olympics all week (oh my, I do have a problem, don't I? I was going to give up tv for lent but it falls during American Idol and I just can't do it...) I *might* have known we were in for a doozy of a drive and a fierce winter storm. And I also *might* have packed at least one pair of boots for someone in our house hold. But I didn't, so therefore, I didn't.

The normal 2 hour and 15 minute drive took nearly 3 and a half hours. But we made it. I guess in honor of the snow falling, Olivia requested to watch the Radio City Rockettes Christmas Spectacular (YES! We do own it on DVD if you ever want to borrow it) the whole way there. Fun times. And it was a good reminder that there are only 299 shopping days left until Christmas. So let's get on it people!

We opted to not borrow a second pack 'n play for this trip and take an enormous risk by putting Turner in a blow up *big boy* bed. Hey, what can I say? We like to live on the wild side! Steve was a skeptic while I, for once in our marriage, was the optimist. I figured we are looking to buy the boys this adorable toddler bunk bed from Ikea in the near future, so we ought to let him give it a whirl.

After visiting with Bebe and Paw and having dinner we bit the bullet and went back to the little apartment we stay at while in Toledo (same complex as my parents just across the driveway.) All three kids were in the same room and Turner explored his new blow up bed. Once we finished reading, praying and saying all the required good nights, we closed the door and held our breath. We turned the tv on mute and enjoyed (mostly) the giggles and scampering from inside the room. The only thing we required was that everyone stay in their bed. And to be fair, Quinn had it easy, because he couldn't get out. The other two pushed the envelope several times. Turner had 2 harsh disciplines (hey, we gotta lay down the law now or there's gonna be heck to pay once we get those bunk beds.)

After 2 disciplines, Turner got the picture. But all kids were up nearly 2 hours past their bed time singing, laughing, banging and generally enjoying a thrill of childhood. A *sleep over.* And I was proud of our utterly inflexible selves. (Although Steve declared, "I will be angry once it hits 9:00!") I wasn't sure if he meant at them or me.

Night number two went out without a hitch. No one got a discipline. There were still songs and giggles to be had by all, and even a declaration, "Its time to have a little party" by Olivia to her brothers. (I told her right before bed time, it was ok to have a party but they had to stay in their beds and once mommy and daddy said it was time to stop they needed to obey.) Perhaps it was out of sheer exhaustion, but the party didn't last too long.

We hit the road Sunday afternoon in time to pick up Baxter from the kennel and host house church. All in all it was a successful and monumental trip up north. Ahhh... I love it when a plan comes together!