Wiggle Wiggle

Lately her finger lives in her mouth...wiggling that first loose tooth! And every time she passes a mirror, she stops to watch that tooth wiggle.

Yesterday she yelled for me. I came running and found...as she put it, her "tooth had collapsed!"

With Little Man cheering her on, she gave it a little tug!

And then...

After the husband and I had that wonderful week to ourselves, we joined the children and spent several nights with the grands.

During which I saw my first 3-D movie...The Last Airbender. Now THAT was an act of love on my part. T's tank is surely FULL.

Little Bit didn't walk while we were away, HOORAY!!! But she is increasingly mobile and daring.

T and his brother sifted through boxes of transformers? Not really sure - guy stuff - and matchbox cars. Little Bit found those ugly men most entertaining. (And tasty.)

And the matchbox cars, too.

We had the most wonderful lunch on the road on the way home...Whataburger.

Whatasmile.

Whatacup.

And whatasucker. (Her first.)

And when we got home...

WHATAMESS!!!

You'll never guess who figured out a way to jiggle the locks on his ginormous kennel to get out???

You'll never guess who had his own little partay???

You'll never guess who ate my needlepoint pillows??? (That I bought for a steal...but it's the replacement cost!!!)

You'll never guess who pottied in several places???

You'll never guess who pulled the pillows off the guest bed???

You'll never guess who pulled all the stuffing out of one of my pillows???

You'll never guess who ate my moss covered rocks???

You'll never guess who ripped T's Star Wars poster off the playroom wall?

You'll never guess who tore up the little mink (or maybe rabbit) stole that had been our dear, sweet neighbors - it had been a gift to Sister...???

Guess who???

That precious little blessing who just turned one.

Our sweet neighbors who were caring for the pups in our absence cleaned it up. They even had to employ a spackling knife to scrape up the, ahem, mess Warrior left on the carpet upstairs.

That is love.

This will NOT happen again. Thank you very much. Five carabiners later, with BOTH kennel openings secure, I am not worried.

And if it does happen again, Warrior's hide would make a nice little bedside rug. Actually, I think it would look kind of nice in the kitchen.

And I'm not sure what to make of my response. I was just like, "Whatever. Whatever." My blood didn't boil and rise over the top. I didn't yell. Didn't cry. I was just very quietly like, "whatever." And I proceeded to pick up the rest of the fill that was scattered here and there, to launder the dirty pillow case, etc, to roll up the poster, in general, to clean up the bits and pieces that were left. And T was so apologetic and insisted I immediately begin looking for replacement pillows. Unfortunately those were probably a once in a lifetime find. That's ok. I've just added them to my mending pile. If nothing else, the mended rips will be a reminder that it's just stuff.

Happy day to you!

A Few Firsts

This week has brought a few firsts...

We attempted to "de-mullet" Little Bit. Thus, her first hair cut.

I asked Sister to take the shots...not too bad!

Friday night I pulled Little Bit from the bathtub and she brought with her a blue rubber star. We have these stuck on the tub bottom to help keep the kids from sliding. I laid her on her changing table and began dressing her. She reached over to the wall and tried to stick the star to it. It, of course, fell...and she uttered, "Uh-Oh!" I squealed! And handed it back to her. And she did it again. And again. And again. She's obviously a genius!

Her first word: "Uh-Oh!"

And then I handed her her baby doll which she pulled to her face, placed her lips on baby's forehead, and said, "mmmmmm-uh." She kissed her baby!!! (And then promptly threw her on the ground.)

Her first kisses!

And now the games have begun. We are all vying for her attention..."Little Bit, say "uh-oh. Little Bit, give Sister a kiss!" And Little Bit plays. She plays well. Last night she threw her spoon on the ground no less than thirty-eight times and shouted "uh-oh" each time! Sister and Little Man are all too eager to retrieve chunked items. And Little Bit is all too eager to chunk items. We must work on this.

While the Children are Away...

...their parents will play!

And stay up late and eat out, or better yet, have popcorn and twizzlers for dinner. They will have long conversations, and feel odd the entire time, for lack of being interrupted. The house will stay clean, the beds made, the laundry room empty, and there will be no crumbs on the floor. And they will marvel at what they can accomplish.

All kidding aside, T's parents graciously kept all three children for an entire week and it was wonderful. I don't remember the last time T and I had a week together at home. It was bliss. By about the third day, sans the kids, I became giddy. It was like I finally felt the relief from being responsible for three children...and it was wonderful. I had forgotten just how much I really like my husband. Like, I really like my husband. It's easy to forget that marriage is a bigger priority than children. A priority that was there before they were born, and will continue after they fly the nest. Even though T went to work each day, a week at home, just the two of us, was very good for our marriage.

By the end of our time apart, we were thrilled to see the children! When Sister and I embraced, she burst into tears. (And melted my heart.)

So, while they were away, my main goal was to slipcover an old hand-me-down sofa, to re-upholster the settee for Sister's room, and to paint the living room.

As for the sofa, she was beautiful in her day. I can still here my grandmother fussing at me for sitting on the arm. However, time has taken its toll on the fabric. It's worn completely through in many areas and was quite stained.

Originally, I thought I wanted to go white. However, I couldn't find white fabric thick enough to hide the chintz. So I opted for linen, but wanted to slip the frame itself in a charcoal color and leave the cushion a natural color. I couldn't find charcoal linen. So I bought some dye.

But their was too much fabric to fit it all in the washer at once, and I wanted my scraps to be the original linen color. And I wasn't sure where to cut. So I started draping and pining and cutting.

For three days I draped and pinned and cut and sewed.

And I did a little seam ripping. And finally I had what I was looking for.

But it wasn't the color I wanted. Everything in the living room was beige and tan...so with trembling hands, I loaded the washer and poured in the dye. And then like a wide-eyed child, I squatted down with my face pressed against the washing machine window, watching. And sweating.

Eventually I broke away. I worked on the cushion cover. And kept running back to the washer...and then the dryer. Finally, the moment of truth. I put her on the sofa...and COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. The dye didn't take on the thread...and the color wasn't charcoal gray. It was DENIM BLUE. (Nothing wrong with a denim blue sofa - it's just that I'd spent three days and some hard earned money and did NOT have what I'd envisioned, which, as you can imagine, is rather disappointing.) I fretted and wrung my hands.

My sweet husband, who'd suggested I run a test dye batch, never gave me the "I told you so" look. He agreed wholeheartedly that it looked like denim and that he also would prefer a charcoal color. He assured me that in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal. He suggested I try re-dying it.

So we went to the fabric store and I bought every packet of brown dye they had. Because the brand dye they carried wasn't made for use in a washer, I mixed it in a wheelbarrow...and spilled it on my tennis shoes, so I threw them in, too. (They came out looking much better than before.)

For an hour I hand "swished" that fabric, hoping against hope that my knowledge of the color wheel would prove useful.

I wrung it out the best I could and stuffed it all in a garbage bag and carried it inside to put in the washer. But there was a lot of liquid I hadn't wrung out, and I tipped the bag wrong, and sloshed brown dye water all over a rug. Thankfully the rug was already dark colors and I was able to quickly rinse the dye out. Finally, I got the fabric in the washer, and then the dryer.

While it didn't come out as envisioned, I do like it.

It went from this:

to this:

(In case it reads denim on your screen - it's not. It's a brownish-dark gray.) I also re-arranged the room and painted and did a bit of re-purposing.

All in all, I am pleased. There is a part of me that wishes I'd never messed with the dye...that I'd left it the original linen color. Live and learn, right?

At the end of the week we'd accomplished much. I am ashamed to admit that I'd fully anticipated getting to the end of my to-do list and having a great sense of accomplishment, of rest, of worth, from doing all we'd done.

However, that was not the case. I got lots done, but I felt no different. No better. No more worthy. I do believe the Holy Spirit is teaching me that while I often (failingly) seek my worth and significance in what I can do or in the way my home looks, it's not there. I may find it there temporarily, but we all know the new rush fades fast. No, my worth and significance are to be found in my Redeemer. If only I didn't run from Him and look elsewhere so often.

Uno

Dear Warrior,

Happy first birthday! I have never been more thrilled to see an animal turn one! (We're that much closer to the end of the puppy stage!)

Now, when I began writing your birthday letter, I'd planned to list out your every fault. As you know, this last year has been rather intense. Your presence has been the source of much conflict, many tears, and hurt feelings, a total martyr syndrome on my part, and quite frankly, a lot of anger. The husband and I have been through a little counseling with the pastor because every time you ruined another thing, every time I had to wipe tears brought on by you, or clean poop, or open that darn gate, I held it against T and I burned with anger. Oh yes, your presence has given me a fresh look at how completely depraved I really am. You light my fuse like nothing else ever has. In fact, I didn't know I could be as angry as I have been regarding your sheer existence in our home - or rather, what your existence has added to my plate.

So, as I was writing your birthday letter, a funny thing happened. A rather peculiar thing, at that. I sat before the computer hacking away all the reasons I have to be angry at you...and as I typed and listed and the bitterness, which was at times disguised with humor, spilled onto the computer screen, my heart got sad. And it kept getting sadder until I found myself bawling. As I listed your every offense and T's every response, I was confronted with something.

I was confronted with my very broken and humble husband who has, on multiple occasions, apologized, stating that if he had things to do over, he would not have gotten you when he did. He would've listened more carefully to my reasons for why the timing of you was not a good idea. He has apologized and asked me to forgive him. I have told him I forgive him. But while typing I realized, I hadn't really forgiven him. I was holding everything you've ruined up and saying, "once you make this right and fix that and replace everything that dog has ruined, once you restore order to the things Warrior has made chaotic, once you grovel, then, then and only then, will I forgive you!" See, I had this idea in my heart that if he was really sorry, he'd run like crazy trying to fix everything you've ruined - the children's bikes, the trim on the house, all the plants out back, the grass in the backyard, the parts to my pump, the children's clothes you've bitten into and ripped...once he made it all right, then I would happily forgive him. After all, he must know and experience the depths of my frustration.

The Holy Spirit confronted me with the truth that Jesus doesn't tell me He'll forgive me once I make all my sins right. He doesn't say, "get your act cleaned up, do good for a while, and then come to me." He says, "you broken, dirty, filthy child, RUN to me. I long to forgive you and to clothe you in my righteousness so that you can be in relationship with the living God."

Dirty, broken, and filthy, He called me.

I have not loved my husband as God has called me to. I have not loved him as Jesus has loved me. I had not forgiven him. I have lorded his decision over him and sought, yes, I sought, to make his life miserable regarding you, Warrior.

And I felt so justified, because quite frankly, you have made my life miserable. Especially the first six months.

So I had to go to him and tell him these things. And it was awful. And I am still struggling, wanting to pull out "the list." I couldn't even apologize without falling.

I am thankful God has shown me my sin in this. It is great. And I am even more thankful that God forgives and is gracious and merciful, even though He sees the total depths of my depravity.

Unfortunately, seeing my sin for what it is and confessing and repenting isn't a "cure all." I am still struggling to forgive. To stop expecting payment for the wrongs suffered. Life is messy. As T told me the other morning - and it is my favorite thing he has ever said to me - "What are two sinners to do, but grab hands and run to Jesus together."

We are running.

Happy first birthday, Warrior.

Six

Dear sweet, Sister,

Do you know what happened six years ago today? Six years ago this morning, at 3:54am, to be exact? God, in His providence and goodness, gave us you.

We had prayed for you for a long time. We'd carried the hope of a baby in our hearts for what felt like an eternity.

You should know the sweet story of your arrival. It was a grand event!

I'd spent all day on the 21st with a close friend. She agreed to drive me to my doctor's appointment so that when your daddy got off work and joined me, we'd be in one car, instead of two.

The only thing was that her husband, who your daddy carpooled with, had the same idea, and dropped your daddy off at the doctor's office.

I was the last patient to be seen that day, and when I went back, the doctor shared the wonderful news that you were indeed, on the way! I was so happy I cried!

I'll never forget walking out with the doctor and the last nurse there. All the lights were out and the office was quiet. We stepped into the waiting room and who was there waiting to greet us, but our dear friends who'd dropped us off.

They rejoiced with us in the wonderful news that we'd soon be meeting you! And then they went back to our house, cleaned it from top to bottom, including the sink full of dirty dishes I'd left, and dare I admit this on the www, but they also picked up the dead roaches I was too chicken to pick up myself - I was waiting for your daddy to come home and deal with that (I've grown up a little since then), and they prepped the house for the stampede of family. The Mrs. even finished packing my hospital bag and they delivered it along with our vehicle.

While all that was going on, I got checked in and we called the fam. I hear your Bobo never finished dinner so fast!

Everyone came to meet you! They were all SO EXCITED!!! I distinctly remember Bobo cracking the hospital room door and squealing! Let's see, Grandma J, Grandpa J, Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, both my sisters (one of whom drove all night long - in a thunderstorm - or am I making that part up? And she definitely got lost and had to stop at a gas station where the attendant asked what someone like her was doing in that part of town at that hour...but finally, she arrived!) and my baby sister's boyfriend. (I doubt he'll every forget that experience.) Add in a sprinkling of church friends and it was a precious gathering - all to rejoice in God's goodness in the gift of you!

Shortly after you made your grand entrance and we heard those first screams, everyone piled into the room, eager to know if you were a boy or girl, and I remember announcing, "It's a girl!"

A few hours later, still early in the morning, I woke in my hospital bed and I saw your bassinet at my bedside. My head was fuzzy and I was completely exhausted and then the biggest smile spread across my face. I looked to my left. Your daddy was conked out on a cot. And I looked to my right, and there was the most beautiful bundle of life I'd ever laid eyes on. That memory is forever fixed in my heart. In the momentary and fleeting quiet of the hospital room, it was as if time stood still. The memories from the night before came rushing back to me..."could it be? Did I really have a ..... girl?" Lo and behold, I read the card taped to the side of your bassinet and it read, "Baby Girl." And I was overcome with joy and I cried and I thanked God.

Sister, I'd wanted to have a girl so bad. I'd prayed for a girl. I remember sitting on the folding table in the laundry mat, not daring to write it in my prayer journal, for fear if you'd been a boy, but telling God that I really wanted a baby girl.

When the doctor announced, "it's a girl" I was overwhelmed. And in that little slice of quiet, of waking early that morning and breathing in the reality that you'd arrived and that God had seen fit to bless us with a baby girl, I was overcome with joy.

You are precious. You are wonderful. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. God has made you intentionally and with great care and purpose. Every detail of your being, He lovingly knit together, from the length of your legs, to the perfect way He placed each freckle on your cheeks. You are a darling gift and God has a wonderful plan for your life.

Last night I shared your birth story with you, the very one I've written here, Little Man was sitting on the sofa with us. I added in how I'd wanted you to be a girl, and then how with Little Man, Daddy had hoped he would be a boy. You stopped me and said, "Mama, isn't God so graceful? (You meant gracious.) He knew you wanted a girl and He created me for you and then He knew daddy wanted a boy and He created Little Man for him. I mean, God is really graceful." That's you, Sister.

And I love your honesty. You crack me up. I hope you will always come to me and share your thoughts and your hopes and your dreams.

You are incredibly creative. I love watching your wheels turn. And perhaps it's selfishness on my part, but I love seeing bits of myself in you. I love that you LOVE getting notes. I feel like we have a sort of secret language...note writing. And this new love of sewing! Oh my. It is wonderful. I cannot believe how opinionated you are! And I love you for it. It's wonderful to know exactly what fabric you want and where.

My darling daughter, God has shown me His goodness and mercy and love in and through you. You are a gift from Him. I am treasuring these years with you. They are going so fast and I pray I am investing wisely. You teach me much! I love you, my treasure. More than anything else, I want you to know you have been bought with a price. A very high price. Death on a cross. You are of great worth and you have a gracious and merciful heavenly Father. I pray you will grow to love Him with every fiber of your being and that whether in life or in death, your eyes remain fixed on Him. He is good. I love you.

Happy sixth birthday sweet girl!!!

In-Dept-Indence Day

We got invited to a party...an In-Dept-Indence Day party. How very fitting.

Some friends of ours drank the kool-aid and decided to live radically...and get out of debt. Today they mailed their final payment to Sally-Mae. Shortly thereafter, they gave us a call and suggested we hold the phone back so they could scream, "WE'RE DEBT FREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!" and then they drove past our house screaming, "FREEEEEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Pretty stinkin' cool.

Have you heard of Dave Ramsey? He teaches a radical concept...live on less than you make. It's Biblical and sound. We got "on board" several years ago and it has been life changing. Hard, but so good. Marriage changing. Hands down, AWESOME. We love Dave. (And one day, Lord willing, we're going to have a mortgage burning party. One day.)

An 80th Birthday

Someone I love very much just had a birthday. A big birthday. An 80th birthday. To celebrate, the extended fam gathered at the Lake House, our old stomping grounds. I've only been once in the last several years. As a child, I spent many a weekend there. It was good to be back, but it was hard. A lot of memories live in those walls.

My grandfather patiently allowed Sister to "decorate" his head...and in love, he wore those party hats for quite a little while. (We decided he looked rather dinosaur-ish, rather appropriate for an 80th birthday, no?)

We got in more time with my baby sister's baby - he's almost two! He's a mess and I love him. I can't wait for the day I can tote him home with me and keep him for several days. No doubt he and Little Man will be T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

After Little Bit went down for her first nap, and got up cloaked in sweat, she spent most of the remainder of the weekend in nothing but her diaper. Considering all the cute clothes I packed, that was rather unfortunate, but life. (smile)

I spent a few minutes reminiscing as I stared at my grandmother's hydrangeas.They remind me of her. I miss her. I really wish I'd had the chance to know her now, as a wife and mother. I would love to have just one conversation with her. We bonded during my high school years and I got to see a side of her I don't think many saw. It was shortly after that that her mind really began barreling down hill. I really think God was preparing her for what lay ahead. I think somewhere deep down, she knew her time was drawing near. She shared a lot about things she would have done differently. Maybe that's normal as we age. I don't know. I just know I treasure those quiet times of conversation when it was just the two of us. While she is still living (in a full time care facility), her mind has been gone (due to Alzheimer's disease) for a very long time. I really miss her.

The neighbor beside the lake house has always had a black lab and they've always named her (or him) after the Prime Minister. This is Blair. She and Little Man had a lot of fun together. As you can see.

And middle sister's sweet baby girl. Precious. Inquisitive. And growing. Weren't we just expecting together? How has the time flown!!!??? (I can't wait to tote her home, too! She and Little Bit are B.F.F.s.)

Little Man was afraid to get in...at first. And then, there was no stopping him. He swam with Blair Sunday morning before church. We're talking early - like 7:45 or 8am! (I can't imagine what we put our parents through as children at the lake. Oh my. I remember the adults "bargaining" over who would take which shift down on the dock watching the kids.)

We took a pontoon boat ride. That might have been the highlight of the weekend for me.

Oh the memories. I sat on that stained, old boat without the back cover on, without any tables set up, and the memories flooded in of what it used to be like. I remember how all the fam crammed on that boat. We were busting at the seams.

There's actually a potty in the back corner. We used to get SUCH a kick out of someone using it. We'd crawl up on the back of the boat and wait for the perfect moment to peep our heads over the top to peer down at the unfortunate user.

We'd have three tables set up - two in the front, one in the back - and my Mom and grandmother and aunts would pack all kinds of wonderful to snack on. The grandchildren would take turns driving the boat. We'd pass the baby cousins from lap to lap, waving at each and every boat that passed by. Those were some precious, sweet times.

We'd pull back into the boat house at dusk, and all the women would head up to the kitchen, where they'd cook up a feast! And then we'd all cram around a giant table and eat together. My grandfather always took the head with my grandmother to his immediate right. I often got to sit beside her (and sometimes I didn't like that - she was a stickler for manners). We always had dessert...cheesecake and klondike bars (my grandmother could eat one in TWO bites, but that's a story for another day) were a favorite.

The children were always the first to finish dinner. We'd gather our plate, cup, and utensils, thank my grandmother for dinner, and ask to be excused. The adults would sit around that table for what felt like hours. Sometimes, if we were really fortunate, my grandmother and a few other adults would play poker with us. GASP. I know. All the grandchildren knew how to play poker. However, the concept of those chips having any monetary value, was totally lost on us.

Oh the memories!!! Precious, sweet memories of years gone by.

The paint on the boat house was peeling.

The bunk beds hadn't been slept on in a while.

The downstairs fridge doesn't work anymore.

There's moss growing on part of the roof.

There were no white impatiens to welcome us.

The fridge and pantry were nearly empty.

There was no grandmother in the kitchen.

No basketball game on the tv.

No deck of cards on the card table.

And my mom wasn't there. And that was really hard.

The cousins are all grown up. This time our babies were swinging in the baby swing and eating lunch in the high chair. We were the ones toting monitors and getting a grasp on sleepless nights at the lake.

And during the entire weekend, which for me, held many ups and downs, my man was there, steady as ever. Thank You, God, for this man!