I Love You. Goodbye.

Do you remember my brilliant cousin, K.C.? She's the singer/songwriter. (I mentioned "brilliant," right?) Today's her birthday. And, it made me realize I never told you about her new album: The Tag Hollow Sessions. It's awesome. Duh. But, guess what? One of the songs on the album... IS MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (I'm a little possessive.)

Maybe I should tell you the back story.

When she produced her last album, Orchid, she did it by asking her friends and family to become her record label. She explains it better here. If you contributed at a certain level, you could choose for her to write you a song. Like I wasn't going to choose that, right?! Well, it turns out, you can't just flip K.C. to "on" and watch her crank out a song. Who knew? So, I patiently waited for my song... 

Then one day she sent me a message saying she was writing my song. Yay! As it turns out she had read this blog post. Go ahead. Read it. I'll wait... Finished? Good. Could you write a song out of that?! Me either. We suck. But, K.C. doesn't. She took that blog post, coupled it with my real life, and wrote this:

"Just in Case" (Click the song title, you can hear it on iTunes. It's song #13)
I don't wanna answer the phone.
These days are taking their toll
'Cause it's never good news calling.
And you. You are my port in the storm.
You're what I'm waking up for.
You remind me the sky's not falling.

But, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

I was never fond of surprises.
I like the way the sun rises.
You can count on it every morning.
But, now, so many people around us,
They ain't got nothing but sadness.
And it came without any warning.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case, oh, just in case

The hands on all the clocks have stopped.
The life that we once lived is lost.
I don't want to be full of words
I wish I'd said,
I wish you'd heard.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, 'cause baby our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

..........

Holy crap it's good, huh? And, it's MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (Well, and Shawn's, too. But, mostly. MINE.)

She's brilliant.

And, that leads me to this:

I just heard another song. An oldie, but goodie. And, it sums up how I feel about this blog.

"Too Busy Being in Love" by Doug Stone

Songwriters: Gary Burr, Victoria Shaw
If I had taken the time

To write down a few lines

Every time you crossed this heart of mine,

I'd put them all in a book.

How much time would that have took?

The words and years have a way of slipping by.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.

I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

Brand new phrases appear every time you are near.
All these words you inspire after all these years.

But I never reached for a pen.

Break the mood that I'm in.

Before I knew it the words were gone again.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.
I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

I could have written a poem to make young lovers crazy.
Could have written a movie for Hepburn and Tracy.

A beautiful song and it starts with your name.

Written my way into fortune and fame.

But I have no regrets for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

..........

Y'all. I love my family. I love my life. It's not perfect. By far. But, it's mine. And, I love living it. And, right now, I don't want to write about it. I just want to live it.

I've lived long enough to know to never say never. So, I'm not saying I'll never come back here to post. The next time I find a potato chip that looks like Abe Lincoln, I am so coming back here to write a post about it. But, until that earth shattering occasion occurs...

I'm too busy being in love.

Bye, y'all.

Deep Thoughts by Ali and Spencer

Disclaimer: This post is in no way meant to ignite any religious fervors. It is meant to make you smile at a conversation between my son and me. If you do not agree with the religious views of my family, feel free to pray for us... silently. You know what? Go ahead and pray for us anyway. We can use all of 'em we can get!



I started laughing at this tailgate. And I took a picture of it.

Spencer was in the car with me and said, "What are you taking a picture of?"
I said, "That truck."
"Why?"
"He's just got a lot of things happening there on his tailgate... He's advertising his business and he's saying 'Heaven or Hell? Time is running out! Do you know Jesus?'"
"What does that mean?"
"Well, babe. There are some people who think you either believe in Jesus and go to Heaven, or you don't and you go to Hell. But, I think that's judging people a lot more than I'm comfortable judging them. It's not our job to say who's going to Hell. That's God's."
"Hell. Is that where the Devil lives?"
"Yep. Where the Devil lives. It's a really terrible place. And, I know me and my family are going to Heaven because we believe Jesus died for our sins so we wouldn't be separated from God. But, if someone else tells me that in their heart they feel right about what they believe in, I think we're supposed to love them and not judge them and tell them they're going to Hell...
Now. If someone's worried that they won't go to Heaven, I'll tell them all about Jesus! Because I know that Jesus will get you into Heaven. He's a get-into-Heaven-free-card."
"So, Jesus lets you go to Heaven for free?!"
"Yep. Anyone who believes that Jesus died for our sins gets to go to Heaven - no questions asked."
"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"What's a deli?"
"A place where they sell meat and cheeses and sandwiches."
"Can we eat at McDonald's tonight?"
"No."

Sometimes it feels like I'm being punk'd.

First World Problems

So, over the Christmas break, I was hanging out with my sister's sixteen-year-old step-daughter-to-be. (Is that a thing? Well, it's the best description I've got. Let's go with it.) And we started laughing about this website called First World Problems.

Some of our favorites:

• They wouldn't serve from the bar menu in the restaurant area, so I had to eat my turkey avocado wrap without appetizers like some sort of bronze age hunter gatherer.
• The seat heaters don't keep the pizza warm enough for the 10 minute ride home.
• I have no idea how to reheat my leftover omelette, so I guess I’ll just have to drive to the restaurant and order another one.
• 'Family Guy’ is on two different channels at the same time and I can’t figure which one has the most potential.
• I wish I hadn’t used all my pain pills for non-pain-related purposes.
• I have caviar stuck in my braces.
• The guy who cleans my yard barely seemed to be listening when I told him about all the stuff I got for Christmas.
• I’ve run out of obscure ethnic cuisines to impress my friends with.
• I have over 20,000 songs in my iTunes library. Why can I never find the one that exactly matches my mood of wistful melancholy?
• I can't wash my dirty hands because the water is freezing.
• My shoelaces are kinda short.

I mean, you can see why we love this site, right? But, now. When I'm bitching about something in my own head (it happens a lot), I've started following it with the words, "First World Problem!" Because, truth be told, it usually is.

And, then. My friend Kelly Rodgers posted some pictures from Nicaragua. Nicaragua, where she lives with her husband and three kids while they are on a two-year mission trip. Now, the Rodgers have done some amazing things with Teeth Savers International. But, these particular pictures were of Kelly and her girls handing out dresses made by Dress A Girl Around the World women. Little girls getting dresses - some of them, the only dress they may ever own.

And, as the mom to one sassy little dress wearer, well... you know.

Then there was this picture:

As I posted on Kelly's FB page, "That is just... a mother's face. We are all the same no matter the country." And, it crushes me to think that, had I merely been born in another place, I might not be able to give my precious girl a dress.

So, now. When I follow the thoughts in my head with "First World Problem," I'm just a little bit ashamed of myself.

No.

I'm a lot ashamed.

The Phone Number Song

We were helping Lulu learn her phone number and address for school. Address? No problem. My mobile phone number? A little trickier. So Shawn and I helped her make up a song for it.

Now a few things you should know: my cell phone is from the "old" hometown, so you have to dial the area code. And, if you have my cell phone number, you may look it up and sing along. If you don't, I really don't want to risk you calling to ask me out on a date, so I've filled in 555s in classic tv fashion (except for the last digits - you need those for the rhyme)!

To the tune of "ABC" (or "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" or "Ba Ba Black Sheep"*):

(555) 555 2... 664 I'm calling you!

Clever! Shawn and I were quite smug about our little ditty. And, it worked like a charm. But, then... Shawn carried on... Whereas his number ends with 2667 while mine ends with 2664, he composed this continuation:

7 is the end of Dad's. I call him when Mommy's bad.

(555) 555 2... 664 I'm calling you!

I'm pretty sure we have a new family anthem.

Awesome.

*They're all the same tune. What a sham!

The Liquor Store - Bring Your Kids!

The man working at the liquor store gave my kids lollipops.

a) Yes. I had my kids with me at the liquor store. Just a continuation of the Klassy theme for 2012. (Actually, I was buying brandy for a recipe. But, I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you that. I hardly believe me, and I was there.)

b) Now I'm afraid the liquor store is going to be my kids' new favorite place to go. They'll probably ask to go there when we're at school... or church.

c) Why does the liquor store man have candy for the kids?!

And, on a completely unrelated note: No one carded me. Again. I mean, I could have had Spencer when I was *doing the math...* 12. Or I could have been their babysitter. (Note to self: I have got to get them to stop calling me "Mom" when I'm trying to look underage.) Anyway. The liquor store hurts my self-esteem.

*clink, clink* Coins in the therapy fund.

source
This is not my baby.
This is, however, hysterical... and disturbing...

Learning Valuable Life Skills: The Barfing Version

Lulu's sick - throw up sick. Poor girl has skipped dinner the past two nights and she asked to go to bed last night at 5:30.

But, come the mornings, she feels slightly better.

Yesterday, she followed me into my bedroom when I went to get dressed.

"Mama! Since there are no boys around, we can have 'Girl Talk!'"

"Yes. We can! What would you like to talk about?"

"Ummm." And, then she left the room.

About ten minutes later (I have to believe it was just because there wasn't anything good on the television), she came back.

"Mama! You got dressed without me!"

"I'm sorry! Did you want to help me pick out what to wear?"

"Yes." [Evidently "Girl Talk" = "me telling you what to wear."]

"Oh. I'm sorry. But, is this okay, what I chose?"

"No."

Oh.

At least she was willing to compromise from the short-sleeve cotton shirtdress that was her first choice - seeing as how it was 40° yesterday. She really did make me take off the boots, tights and sweater dress that I was already wearing. Although, she did thoughtfully tell me, "You can keep your underwear on."

Well. Thanks for leaving me that little piece of dignity.

But, I'm am proud to tell you, this girl is a champion barfer. She'll run herself to the bathroom (or grab her bowl), throw up, rinse her mouth and go back to the couch to lie down. The most she'll ask for is someone to "hold [her] hair."

Why do I think this is giving us a terrifying glimpse into her college years? I never really thought that I would be bragging on my daughter's ability to "puke and rally."

Shawn is out of town [I think I'll save him some barf, though, so he can have the full parenting experience]. I had book club last night. Don't worry. There is no part of my maternal instinct that considered missing my night out because I had a sick child. But, I did start to question whether I was a good mother when I left the babysitter with the words, "If she throws up, I promise I'll pay you extra!" But, I felt confident that Lulu was in capable hands when the babysitter responded with, "Don't worry. I'm sure little kid barf is way less gross than drunk college girl barf." And, I told her that, just like a drunk college girl, Lulu would really just need someone to hold her hair.

*clink clink* (That therapy fund is just growing and growing.)

Boy Wonder

We got Spence's Comanche project returned. Oh, I'm sorry. What's that you say? ONE. HUNDRED? Ka.pow!

And, here's that cover page I told you about.

Oh, stop. You're embarrassing us.

(But, yes. That is my facial masque smeared down the center of his part to simulate the white clay the Comanche would put down the center parts of their hair [or red or yellow - get out of my head Comanche report!] And, do you have any idea how long it takes to help an eight-year-old braid yarn braids down a piece of paper?)

But, Spence knew how hard he had worked on this project and he was proud of that grade. Shawn was out of town when the grades were returned, but we had to call him straight away to tell him the proud results!

Also in school, the 2nd grade wrote letters to Santa. Here's Spence's:

As Shawn paraphrased: "Hiiiiiii, Santaaaaaa... How you beeeeeeen? Goooooood? Gooooood. How's the faaaaaamily? We've got a little something special planned for you when you come on Christmas Eve... BRING ME A TRUCK!"

And, lastly, we had Spence's eight year old well-check with the pediatrician last week. (I-don't-want-to-talk-about-the-fact-that-he-turned-eight-two-months-ago-but-I-forgot-his-appointment-and-they-couldn't-reschedule-us-until-December-so-shut-up-about-it.)

Y'all? It might be weird to be extremely proud of your kid while you're at a check-up. But, I was extremely proud of Spencer at his check-up. I just sat back and let him handle all of her questions... and he did! Even though he was shy and a little timid (and our pediatrician was so kind and friendly, it was easy for him to talk to her), he did it! I didn't have to help "Mommy" him through any part of the exam. Now, I can already hear some of my friends (I'm looking at you, Springer) saying, "The kid's EIGHT YEARS OLD. He should have driven himself to the appointment." But, he's my kid. I want to take care of him. I want to make sure he's comfortable and at ease. But, the fact of the matter is: He is a big kid. He can take care of himself. And he doesn't need me quite as much as I may like to believe he does. I came home and said to Shawn no less than twenty times, "We have a big kid!"

And, speaking of big. She didn't have a growth chart to show me on which our giant man child would fit - for height or weight. But, she said you put them together and he has a BMI in the 95th percentile. She said that's big but it's healthy. Then she looked at me, turned to Spencer and said, "Your dad must be tall?" Rude. And, then, for the rest of the exam, she kept stopping and saying, "Eight years old?!" and "Second grade?!" over and over. And when she tested his strength (made him hold his arms up while she tried to push them down, etc), she got out of breath. So, now. When I call him our giant man child. I mean, our giant man child.

So that's the latest from the Spencer front. Somewhere around here we've had pictures with Santa. And, Lulu wrote a letter to Santa, too. Although, she doesn't have the schmoozing down quite as well as her brother...

Stay tuned. All that and more to come...

My Christmas Tree is Ugly

I've had a "designer" tree before.

It was beautiful. And perfect. And everything matched.

But, this year. My Christmas tree is ugly.

Homemade ornaments are piled on top of fancy ornaments.

The prevalent decorating style is "clumping."

Ornaments are hung this way and that.

Foam ornaments made in Sunday School are front and center.

All of Lulu's hand-painted ornaments with her name on back...

...are hung with her name facing forward.

But, these were our helpers:

And there are ornaments like this:

(that's signed "Alison S.")

And, this:

And, this:

So, I've had a perfect Christmas tree. And I've had an ugly one.

I like the ugly one so much more.

One of These Fingers Is Not Like the Others

Yep. That's a broken Lulu-finger.

She headed out the door ahead of her brother and turned and stuck her finger into the hinge-side of the door while he slammed it shut behind himself.

It's Thursday night as I write this. The "incident" happened Tuesday night. I put ice on it. And gave her Tylenol. I did tell her teacher about it the next day in case it bothered her while she was at school.*

But, today, when I was relaying the story in passing to the orthopedic surgeon's wife, her reaction may have been something along the lines of, "It looks like WHAT?! You're going to need to go get that x-rayed [as she's on the phone making the appointment]."

Sure enough. BROKEN.

But, now, she has the cutest, tiniest, little custom-made splint you ever did see.

But, also? Now. When I tell you people that this girl is tough, you'll believe me. I was only telling my friend about it because it was so gross looking. Elizabeth has never complained about it unless she knocked it into something or... *cough cough*... her mother tried to grab her by the hand.*

That girl. Damn tough.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

*I have "Mother of the Year" forms here. I'll send you one so you can nominate me.

I also have Daughter of the Year forms, too. Because it's only just occurring to me that every. single. grandparent is about to find out about this wee BROKEN BONE via this blog post. Oh, well. Grandparents - you have to cut me some slack. I'm getting a root canal. That seems like punishment enough. Call Shawn and yell at him...

Music to Soothe the Raging Beasts

When our kids get tired they get hy.per. Slap-happy. Insane.

So, there are days that they come home from school acting like deranged, strung-out monkeys. And, in moments when my judgement has completely lapsed, I have let them set their lunacy to music. They like to play "dance party" music and bounce off of each other like teenagers in a mosh pit. This usually ends well, as you can imagine.

But, yesterday. It finally occurred to me to use their idea - to my end. I played "mellow" music. And, you know what? IT FREAKIN' WORKED. (Guess all those scientists really do know what they're talking about sometimes, huh?)

Lulu played quietly while Spence and I had the most un-frustrating homework session ever.

So without further ado. Here's my mellow playlist (that will be playing every afternoon at my house until. the. end. of. time) if you want to give it a try for your deranged monkeys.

*WARING: BARRY MANILOW SONGS TO FOLLOW*

1. Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye
2. All Out of Love, Air Supply
3. All This Beauty, The Weepies
4. Amazed, Lonestar
5. Animal, Ke$ha
6. At This Moment, Billy Vera & The Beaters
7. Baby Blue, George Strait
8. Baby Don't Cry, Dr. Pants
9. Beautiful Soul, Jesse McCarney
10. Because of You, Kelly Clarkson
11. Because You Live, Jesse McCartney
12. Better Days, The Goo Goo Dolls
13. Bless the Broken Road, Rascal Flatts
14. Breathe (2AM), Anna Nalick
15. Brick, Ben Folds Five
16. Broken Things, K.C. Clifford
17. Bubbly, Colbie Caillat
18. Can't Smile Without You, Barry Manilow
19. Carolina in My Mind, James Taylor
20. Come Away With Me, Norah Jones
21. Could It Be Magic, Barry Manilow
22. Country Road, James Taylor
23. Daughter, Loudon Wainwright III
24. Daughters, John Mayer
25. Daybreak, Barry Manilow
26. Daydream Believer, Anne Murray
27. Defying Gravity, Glee Cast
28. Doctor My Eyes, Jackson Browne
29. Don't Know Why, Norah Jones
30. Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight, James Taylor
31. Down to the River to Pray, Alison Krauss
32. Even Now, Barry Manilow
33. Find Yourself, Brad Paisley
34. Fire and Rain, James Taylor
35. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Roberta Flack
36. Flies on the Butter, Wynonna Judd
37. Foolish Games, Jewel
38. The Freshmen, The Verve Pipe
39. Gift to Me, Martyn Joseph
40. Glitter in the Air, P!nk
41. Half of My Heart, John Mayer
42. Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
43. Hanging By a Moment, Lifehouse
44. Happy, Leona Lewis
45. The Hexagon Song, Dr. Pants
46. How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You), James Taylor
47. How to Save a Life, The Fray
48. How You Live (Turn Up the Music), Point of Grace
49. Hurts So Good, John Mellencamp
50. I Can't Make You Love Me, Bonnie Raitt
51. I Don't Want to Wait, Paula Cole
52. I Made It Through the Rain, Barry Manilow
53. I Write the Songs, Barry Manilow
54. I'd Really Love to See You Tonight, England Dan & John Ford Coley
55. I'm Movin' On, Rascal Flatts
56. If Everyone Cared, Nickelback
57. If I Die Young, The Band Perry
58. If You Could Read My Mind, Gordon Lightfoot
59. It's All Coming Back to Me Now, Celine Dion
60. Jack & Diane, John Mellencamp
61. Jar of Hearts, Christina Perri
62. Just in Case, K.C. Clifford (Ha Ha. You can't get this one yet - because it's not written about you and your husband! It's off her as-yet unreleased CD. You just have to wait. Nanny nanny boo boo. [At least I'm gracious.])
63. Killing Me Softly with His Song, Roberta Flack
64. Kokomo, The Beach Boys
65. Lemonade, Chris Rice
66. Let Love In, The Goo Goo Dolls
67. Let The River Run, Carly Simon
68. Looks Like We Made It, Barry Manilow
69. Lost In Love, Air Supply
70. Love Song, Sara Bareilles
71. The Luckiest, Ben Folds
72. Lucky (feat. Colbie Caillat), Jason Mraz
73. Making Love Out of Nothing At All, Air Supply
74. Mandy, Barry Manilow
75. Mexico, James Taylor
76. My Wish, Rascall Flatts
77. Nights Are Forever Without You, England Dan & John Ford Coley
78. No One Is to Blame, Howard Jones
79. The Old Songs, Barry Manilow
80. One the Way Down, Ryan Cabrera
81. On the Wings of Love, Jeffrey Osborne
82. The One That Got Away, Katy Perry
83. Our Town, James Taylor
84. Please Mr. Please, Olivia Newton-John
85. Raise Your Voice, K.C. Clifford
86. Ready to Take a Chance Again, Barry Manilow
87. The Riddle, Five for Fighting
88. Same, Olivia Newton-John
89. Say, John Mayer
90. She Talks to Angels, The Black Crowes
91. She's Got a Way, Billy Joel
92. Ships, Barry Manilow
93. Shower the People, James Taylor
94. (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay, Otis Redding
95. Slipping Through My Fingers, ABBA
96. Small Town, John Mellencamp
97. Something in the Way She Moves, James Taylor
98. Sometimes When We Touch, Dan Hill
99. Somewhere Down the Road, Barry Manilow
100. Somewhere in the Night, Barry Manilow
101. The Song Remembers When, Trisha Yearwood
102. Stand, Rascal Flatts
103. Stand by Me, Ben E. King
104. Stolen, Dashboard Confessions
105. Superman, Five for Fighting
106. Sweet Baby James, James Taylor
107. Take Me Home, Country Roads, John Denver
108. Tattoo, Jordin Sparks
109. The One's for You, Barry Manilow
110. Through the Years, Kenny Rogers
111. Tiny Dancer, Tim McGraw
112. True, Ryan Cabrera
113. Tryin' to Get the Feeling Again, Barry Manilow
114. Unbeautiful, Lesley Roy
115. Unchained Melody, Righteous Brothers
116. Unfaithful, Rihanna
117. Waiting On the World to Change, John Mayer
118. Walking Man, James Taylor
119. The Way I Am, Ingrid Michaelson
120. Weekend in New England, Barry Manilow
121. What She Is (Is Woman In Love), Earl Thomas Conley
122. What the World Needs, Wynonna Judd
123. When October Goes, Barry Manilow
124. Why, Rascal Flatts
125. Wonderful, Everclear
126. Wonderful Tonight, Eric Clapton
127. Working My Way Back to You/Forgive Me, Girl, The Spinners
128. You and Me, Lifehouse
129. You Are the Sunshine of My Life, Stevie Wonder
130. You Found Me, The Fray
131. (You Want To) Make a Memory, Bon Jovi
132. You're Beautiful, James Blunt
133. You're So Vain, Carly Simon
134. You've Got a Friend, James Taylor
135. You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin', Righteous Brothers
136. Your Body is a Wonderland, John Mayer
137. Your Song, Elton John
138. 100 Years, Five for Fighting

There you go. 138 mellow songs to soothe your raging beasts. First person to give me a hard time about "Kokomo" is getting kicked in the throat.

*Total Barry Manilow count: 17

Random Thoughts: the Byproduct of a Long Summer

As I told a friend when I forgot to respond to his text for a week... and then forgot to send the text telling him I forgot to respond to his text for another week, I haven't had a single, complete, coherent thought in weeks. Being a mom 24/7 is an ass-kicking job^★. And, this summer, save Spence's week-long stint at camp, was Me and The Kids day in and day out for three months. (Yeah. I just made that into the title of a movie. Most boring movie. ever. But, very loud. With occasional cameo appearances by Shawn Johnson.) No. Seriously. They are getting old enough that we were (mostly) happy. And our road trips and vacations were fun. But, enough was enough.

Thank God for school and teachers. Spence started 2nd grade and Lulu Pre-K. They're both loving it. And my thoughts are slowly starting to form completely again (and the laundry is starting to get done again... and dinner cooked... and I'm bathing more regularly...)

So, as we wait for full-capacity thoughts that might equal one whole blog post, here's what's been rattling around in my brain in the meantime:

• I did indeed make the candy pencil back-to-school treats for Lulu's class. I told you Mommy Guilt would make me do it.
• I took a hot yoga class* and left it smelling like... an airline passenger plane. This is disturbing to me on so very many levels.
• *I stopped going to the Class of Torture because I was starting to get thighs like those of a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast. FYI, this is only a good look on a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast - and, even then, it's questionable.
• Sometimes I look at my flat iron when it's on and think, "Did I already turn that on?"^✰
• Can you put plates in the oven? 'Cause I do. And, I think I'm pretty darn brilliant for thinking of it.
• Evidently my family doesn't eat bananas fast enough. I always have to figure out what to do with overripe bananas. Well, AllRecipes.com has done it again. With a five-star rating after 6,413 reviews, this Banana Crumb Muffin recipe was bound to be good GREAT. And, it was^♥.
• And, finally. It has been said that Princess Eugenie bares a striking resemblance to her great-great-great-great grandmother Queen Victoria. Yeah. If Queen Victoria smeared a lot of $#!t around her eyes and wore bizarre crap on her head.

^★And, yeah, yeah, yeah. Working moms. I know the grass isn't greener. I'm just saying sometimes you get to turn on your "grown-up brain" and have coherent thoughts sometimes. (And, I'm not even going to correct the fact that I used "sometimes" twice in that sentence. I think it proves my point quite nicely.)

^✰It's not a flat iron. It's a cookie. And, I don't think "turn that on;" I think "eat that."

^♥The Pre-K teachers at Elizabeth's school do "Home Visits" the week before school. (oh. the horror.) I whipped these up because a) I'm an unbearable suck-up and b) I was trying to distract the teacher from the fact that our daughter doesn't know her own name and c) who calls Children's Protective Services on someone who makes muffins?

Not in the Mood for "Happy"

I want to tell you about our fun vacation to visit some friends at their lakehouse. I want to tell you about my new car (that I can start from my phone - it's like magic, I tell you)!

But, instead I have horse-playing, summer-crazed kids; my patience is thread-bare; and Shawn is out of town.

Worse. I have friends who are hurting.

There was a courageous mother in Lubbock, Christie Devitt, who battled breast cancer when she was pregnant with her second child, three years ago. She inspired countless lives with her strength and faith. But, her cancer came back this June. And this time, she lost the battle.

And, much closer to home, my good friend (and my smart-ass blogging buddy), Danny, just found out his dad has acute myelogenous leukemia.

So, really. I'm not much in the mood to tell you how awesome my Buick is. Or how I can't say "Buick" without pretending that I'm barfing (Buuuuu-ick).

All I really want to ask you is: please pray.

Please pray for Christie's family; for her 3-year-old and 5-year-old who have to live without their mama now. Pray for all the people who found strength and faith through her journey - the very people that she was so worried would waver because of her defeat. Help them to know that just because we can't understand the plan, it's not any less beautiful.

And, please pray for the Holwerda family. Give them the strength and peace for their new battle.

Because, really.  CANCER SUCKS.

Talking about S-E-X

I grew up knowing technically how a baby was made. Sperm and egg combine and make baby. But, I also remember seeing my parents kiss goodbye when I was in the sixth grade and thinking, "Wow. They must have kissed a lot to get that sperm and egg to combine."

Ummm.

So, when I heard about the book What's the Big Secret?: Talking about Sex with Girls and Boys which touted itself as a sex education book appropriate for ages 4 to 8*, I had to see it.

I probably could have found a better description when I asked the salesperson at Barnes and Noble if he could help me find it, though. Actually, anything would have probably sounded better than, "It's a sex book for kids."

And, my heart pounded as I read it the moment I got to my car. I don't know why. At worst, I could have walked right back in and returned it. But, you know what? It's surprisingly good. And honest. But, in a kid-friendly way.

It talks a lot about the differences between boys and girls; about talking, looking, touching and being touched (as it would pertain to children); and respecting everybody's privacy and wishes. And, it discusses starting, growing and awaiting a baby; and what happens on your "birth" day.

When I read it to the kids, Spencer acted like we had entrusted him with the keys to the kingdom. Like he couldn't believe we would actually tell him read to him, bluntly, about, what I can only assume, is already being alluded to among his seven-year-old peers.

So, tell me. Is it wrong? Should all of this be a big secret? Should I let my kids find out about sex from their peers on the playground (as is the age old tradition), or what they can sneak a look at on HBO?

I don't want that to be how it is in my house. I want my kids to know we can talk about anything; Shawn and I will answer any question - and they'll get an honest, forthright answer (even if it makes me want to squirm).

You're welcome to think I'm insane. I have a sister and brother-in-law who thought we had lost our minds when we told them about it. (But, to be fair, there may have been alcohol involved. And, my description may have been more along the lines of the aforementioned "Sex book for kids.")

But, for us, it works.

*To be exact, it is described as, "Honest, factual language and simple illustrations [that] explain male and female body parts, growing up, sexual intercourse, pregnancy, sexual feelings, and privacy in a way that makes this subject no more of a giggler than a trip to the grocery store."

Kids at Play (WTH?!)

I was eavesdropping as my kids played.

They were playing "ambulance" - I could tell by the siren.

Elizabeth instructed Spencer (playing the Paramedic), "Pretend you dropped the patient on the ladder."

Then she (playing the patient) said, "Ohhhh. Owwww. My face..."

Sucks to be Spencer's patient.

Then things took a turn. I still heard the ambulance siren, but I heard her say, "Pretend you saw our dad was disgusting because he was a Vampire Dad like our mom." Hey. Wait a minute here.

(Please hold for this brief interruption to your blog reading while I defend our parenting. Our kids have a children's book called Vunce Upon a Time about a shy, little, Trick or Treating vampire - they do not watch True Blood, nor are they familiar with the Twilight book series. Ok. Misunderstanding averted. Parenting honor vindicated. I will now resume your regularly scheduled blog post.)

"Pretend we're playing dodgeball..." *ambulance siren* *vampire snarl*

Ok. Wait. What?!

I don't think I'm creative enough to play pretend with my children.

That.

And, I'm a little scared.

So, So, So, So Crafty

Yep. That's me. Crafty.

Or desperate.

Either way.

The kids had a terrible day on Wednesday. There was sobbing, yelling, rough-housing (and that was just me). But, there had been two trips to the swimming pool, eating out, late bedtimes and it all combined for the perfect storm of frazzled children. So, by the time Spencer had gotten out of his bed for the 72nd time at 1a.m., I declared that the next day (or I guess by that time it would have been later the same day) would be a lazy, catch-our-frazzled-breath day.

We stayed in our pjs all morning long; turned off the blasted TV; chilled out; and, that afternoon, did a craft!

I was inspired by... wait for it... pinterest! (See? Who says addiction is bad?)

I had seen this pin and thought it was a great idea:

Source: cluckclucksew.com via Miranda on Pinterest

Unfortunately for our craft day, I had thrown away all of my fabric scraps when we moved. (I completely overruled my inner-packrat and thought, "I haven't used these scraps by now. I probably never will." Crap. Now my inner-packrat has been proven right. The monster awakes.)

But, fortunately for our craft day, I had just seen this on TexaGermaNadian's blog:

I didn't have any rhinestones or brads. But, I had a butt-load of buttons.

And, my children + hot-glue gun = bad idea.

So. Being crafty and all. I combined the two ideas.

I cut the letters out of cardboard. I handed over the Elmer's glue (poor, poor table); dumped out the buttons and let 'em go to town.

They asked me to do a "J" with them. And, who am I to say no to a good craft?

Here are our completed projects as we left them to dry. As you can tell, there is ample glue coverage. These buttons are going to stick if The Johnsons have anything to say about it!

Spencer went for the complete coverage, like mine. Lulu is a little more of a minimalist.

And... here are the finished works of art.

Thank you. No applause necessary.

(This is two posts about DIY/crafty stuff. I'm totally turning this into a Crafty Blog.)

When I Grow Up, I'm Going to be Responsible. I Wonder When That Will Be?

Today it was like I woke up and decided I should go ahead and continue with undertakings that I have completely and utterly pushed aside during our lazy summer.

First, I went back to workout at the Class of Torture I started attending back in May. It's no mystery why this has been getting neglected. It turns out it's fairly impossible to do squats while on crutches. But, after six weeks in the heinous Aircast from hell, I got the all-clear to exercise as long as I wear an only-slightly-less-heinous, lace-up brace for six more weeks.

I decided to amp it up a notch and attend class at 5:30 in the a.m., too. Because 9:00 a.m. is just too reasonable. That. And, I hate taking my kids to the childcare at the gym - they always look at me like they're living through their own personal Sophie's Choice... and I haven't chosen either of them.

So. Now I'm tired. And, my stomach muscles hurt so badly I think I might cry if I have to cough later.

But, waking up at the crack of dawn and pushing my body to its physical limits wasn't enough for me. Oh no. I decided to crack back open the Rosetta Stone. I quit doing this because... it's hard... and I'm a baby. I didn't want to do my Spanish lessons! (Imagine me stomping my feet for emphasis when you read that.)

But, I RE.FUSE. to admit defeat. So, I sat down with my laptop and headsets, opened up Rosetta Stone, and I'm pretty sure it said to me, "Where the hell have you been?!" But, it said it in Spanish, so I can't be sure.

I yelled, "Algún día trabajarán en un restaurante," and "Sí, tengo un pregunta," a couple of times... and, then I started writing this blog post... and reading other blogs... and commenting on other blogs... and adding some stuff to pinterest... and I did start some laundry...

Yep. Responsible. That's what I am.

Lose My Kid and I Just Might Join Your Church

Holy cow! Has it been a week since I've posted? How can that be? Surely I must have been really busy organizing the house. No, not that. Umm. Catching up on that "to do" list? Nope. Watching countless hours of TV and lying around eating bon bons? Not even that! How about posting those vacation pics. Well, now you're just being silly.

I guess we've been doing a lot of "Summer Time-ing" around here. Soccer camp-ing, swimming pool-ing, eating out-ing, sleeping late-ing. It's been great. We've been worthless and it's been wonderful. It's getting a little boring, though...

So, anyway. Here's something exciting for your reading pleasure:

We've been way laid back in almost every "commitment" there is to be made since moving to the New City. In the past, Shawn and I have had a bit of a tendency to "leap before we look" when it comes to major decisions - cars, homes, churches, furniture... We see something bright and shiny and we enable each other to BUY IT! Sometimes it's worked out. Sometimes it hasn't.

But, we're older and wiser now (stop laughing). And, we know it's a lot easier to enter a commitment than to get out of one. That's why we're in a year-long lease while we figure out which neighborhood we want to choose "for keeps." That's why I'm driving a car with a glovebox that won't close (Ok. That one's all me. Shawn hates my car.) And, that's why we haven't chosen a church yet.

And, this summer we have been out of town every. single. Sunday except for two when I was laid up with my bum wheel. But, this Sunday we were here and we decided to go back and try a church we had visited and really liked back in the Spring.

The service was great. I got stopped by some friends of some friends while Shawn and Spence (who had no interest in joining the other kids during "Children's Church" and had stayed with us in "Big Church") went to get Elizabeth. Shawn and Spence returned. We all finished visiting and I said, "Where's Lulu?"

Shawn said, "We didn't know where you had dropped her off." (I had walked her out with the other kids during the portion of the service where the kids leave for Children's Church.)

Oh. Okay. Let's go get her.

We neared the Children's Area check-in desk and Shawn said, "This is where I came. They said they don't have her."

Indeed. I asked the women at the counter and they said they didn't have an Elizabeth. "She must be with the big kids upstairs."

Upstairs we went. Crickets. The lights were even turned off.

Back to the check-in desk. "She must be upstairs with the big kids." Willing myself not to flip out on these kind people who I knew had not sold my child into human trafficking, Shawn and I explained that we had gone up there, and maybe we just didn't know where to look...

A kind woman, who I believe is the Children's Director, greeted us and said she'd take us. Even she was surprised to see the upstairs was a ghost town. Back downstairs we headed, as she repeated, "We'll find them. They're here somewhere."

She asked someone where the big kids were. In the library. The library! We went to the library. We found the "big kid" teachers! And, they had. no. kids. with. them.

Y'all? By this time the building was empty. All of the parishioners had gone by now. The only people left were staff. And the security guard. And he was summoned. And no one had my child.

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I couldn't start running the halls screaming her name because I didn't know where the halls were. 

We all started heading back to the Children's Area check-in desk and one of the workers was walking toward us. With Elizabeth. Saying, "We thought her name was Avery!" Now people? My child has a lot of nicknames. "Avery" is not one of them. I couldn't tell if maybe the workers even thought she was another little girl actually named Avery. Regardless, when we asked them to bring us Elizabeth, they weren't going to bring us Avery. That would be dumb!

Shawn grabbed Lulu. I tried really hard to get it together; tell everyone it was alright as they profusely apologized. And we left.

And today? I got the nicest email from one of the Pastors at the church. And, I cannot imagine the investigating he had to do to figure out that Shawn's and my name and email on the Sign-in Page from the church service were the hysterical parents of Elizabeth/Avery. But, kudos to him for it. Because his final words of "Again my deepest apologies for the fear and understandable concern you all experienced at a place that should be a very safe and building place," make me think that this just might be a church I would like to visit again (along with his assurances that he has never seen anything like that happen in his 21 years at this church).

So, the moral? Lose my kid and I just might join your church.

It's so complicated in my head.

Old School Road Trip

We're on the road driving our kids from the north end of Texas to the south end of Texas to visit the Grandfolks. For those of you unfamiliar with the size of Texas, my Google map tells me that it's a twelve hour drive. We plan to break it down into a two-day trip and already have our reservations at a hotel about halfway. (Why do I feel like Clark Griswold all of a sudden?)

This is the stuff childhood memories are made of, right?! So, this should be fun, right?!

Shut your nay-saying mouth. I have convinced myself this will be fun. I have told the rest of the family this will be fun. This will be fun. Damn it. Now sit there and be quiet and don't say another word until you start having some fun. (Oh. I so have the Old School "Mom Speech" down! I'm ready!)

I don't know what blogging capabilities will be "on the road." So, don't take any radio silence as a sign that we're all sitting, weeping on the side of the road.

Or do.

Whatever.

This could go either way...

Did You Stick Something In Your Ear?

"Did you stick something in your ear?" the doctor asks sweetly with a smile.

To which Lulu smiles back and coyly answers, "Yeeeeees."

We are at the pediatrician's office for Elizabeth's 5-year-old well-check. Everything looks perfect, until... I'm sorry. Did you just say there's something in her ear?!

The doctor continues in her loving manner. "What did you put in your ear?"

But, by now Elizabeth has sensed that it isn't really an okay thing for one to have something in one's ear. So, she doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

The doctor tells me it looks like a rock or a pebble. But, it is really crammed in there. She says she can't believe Lulu can even hear out of that ear. She is going to send the nurse in to try to flush it out, but she doesn't know if it will work. And, the "hook" she has to try to get it out would hurt because the ear is so sensitive and the "thing" is so wedged in there. So, if the flushing doesn't work, we're going to have to go see an ENT.

Awesome.

The nurse comes in. She covers Lulu to keep her from getting wet. She starts flushing. Lulu is a trooper, but even this hurts.

But, it works!

This comes out of my child's head.

Again. A quarter for size reference because I'm all scientific like that.

By the time we're leaving Lulu's story is somewhere along the lines of "I think I was lying on the ground and a rock fell in my ear."

I'm not buying it, Little Girl.

Camp Packing FAIL

Spencer went to sleep-away camp for the first time!

We dropped him off on Sunday and we pick him up on Friday. He's there with some of his buddies from school. His counselor was a very sweet, soccer-playing college kid from England. (How cool is that?) I really was quite at ease as we drove away. I sent a care-package; we've written letters and emails. All's well... until...

Tonight.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Here's the packing list the camp provided that we used to pack Spence:

• Camper :)
• Sleeping bag and/or sheets/blanket 
• Pillows and Case
• Towels
• Wash cloth
• Laundry bag
• Swimsuit
• Shorts
• One pair of clothes for getting muddy
• Jeans
• Light jacket
• Tops or T-shirts
• Hat/ball cap
• Socks
• Underwear
• Boots
• Shoes
• Sunscreen
• Insect repellant
• Stationary, stamps, pen
• Toiletry items:shampoo, conditioner, soap etc.
• Flashlight
• Shower Shoes
• Disposable Camera

What's missing? Do you see it? If you don't, you're a bad mom... like me...

PAJAMAS!

My boy is at sleep-away camp WITH NO PAJAMAS. Camp is only 45 minutes away. Guess where I'm going to be first thing tomorrow?

And, now. I'm going to try to go to bed and convince myself that he's learning valuable lessons about going with the flow... rolling with the punches... taking things in stride... and all the other cliches I can think of to make myself feel better.

*insert maternal angst here*