Fairy Dust and Cranky Pants, Bad Guys and Swords

Dear Sweet Spot Readers,

I have been working tirelessly on the next installment of The Fairy Tale, but it is not finished yet.

Well, the truth is, it is finished, but I don't know if I want to publish it or not.

It's just that...we went through some times that weren't exactly pretty. A lot of people were a whole lot of angry at us, and although that season in our lives is over and done with now, I just can't quite figure out how to write about it. Do I share what actually happened and risk possibly hurting their feelings if they happen to read my blog? Do I dredge up old stuff that involves other people's dark sides or just gloss over it in one big giant hey-people-hated-us-but-now-they-love-us-so-it's-all-0kay post?

I am still thinking it over. I just didn't want you to think I forgot.

Because I didn't. I've had that stupid post mostly written for about...oh, you know...2 months now.

Anyway. Hey, it's time for another contest. Seriously. The Sweet Spot has been falling down on the job lately. We need to get another poetry one going--those were absolutely incredible poems written last time. My favorites were the haikus. But we've done haikus, and we've done limericks. So what should we do next?

I leave you with this conversation with Joey:

"Mom! I was walking down the hallway, and I saw a bad guy."

"You saw a spider?"

"No! A bad guy!"

"Oh, a bad guy. What did you do?"

"First I went like this: schwee-schthfth. (swinging hands like a sword) Then I chopped his head off. Then, I shot him."

(Pause) "Oh, wow. That's really impressive."

"Yeah, you're safe now, Mom. 'Cause he's DEAD!" Runs away laughing.

So really, we're safe now. Can you feel it? My 3-year-old just killed the bad guy.

Purpose-Schmurpose

Over the years, I have struggled with the idea that I should be doing something...something "real". It seems like whatever I am doing is just the preliminaries, and soon I'll move on to what I'm really supposed to do.

I have read so many books on the subject, and (not that these books are bad) they all seem to agree that I don't know my purpose, and they need to help me find it. Whatever I am currently doing isn't living out my purpose, otherwise, clearly, I wouldn't be reading their book.

When I was thinking about my goals for 2010, I was thinking about what I am doing with my life, and what I should be doing. I was wondering if I really believe that I'm supposed to be on the mission field, that I'm supposed to be a public speaker, that I'm supposed to start some sort of corporation that instantly catapults me to fame as well as feeds all the hungry in the world (for which I would humbly deny the credit, of course, saying it was all Jesus and not me).

It came down to this: In my deepest heart of hearts, do I believe that I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing by raising my family, loving my husband, cooking, gardening, playing and teaching music, doing laundry and dishes, and all the other thousand things that I do in a day?

And when I asked myself that question, in that way, I was completely convinced of the answer: No.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking that only certain people have an influence for Christ. By that I meant that only some can. That way of thinking is dangerous!

I see all through the Bible the importance of families to God. There are passages on top of passages about how to raise a family, how children are a blessing from the Lord, how families are His design for (most of) us. Family is not an after-thought to God, and it is not a period of time that we are supposed to live through as quickly and painlessly as possible in order to move on to the true purpose of our lives.

My true purpose is to glorify God.

That doesn't mean that I have to glorify Him by moving to Sudan (my former goal for my life), or glorify Him by adopting a Haitian child (which I looked into last week and doesn't look promising for us in our current financial state), or even glorify Him by leading all of my neighbors to know Him (which was my plan B if Sudan fell through).

It doesn't not mean those things (I love double negatives! Or should I say, I really don't not like double negatives), but glorifying God isn't one set life pattern, and it isn't one standard set of goals. Like it or not, God has put me here, given me a family, and asked me to glorify Him where I am today.

Ergo, this year, I made different goals. I made a goal to start a Bible Study and to invite a non-Christian to it, and to read through 12 books of the Bible, each one for 30 days in a row. I made a goal to speak truth in love and to have nothing to do with deceitfulness or lies.

I made a goal to love and care for my family's needs above my own, to homeschool Skylar and Joey in a fun and engaging way, to have a date night with Pete approximately once a week, and to get the kids involved with the Rescue Mission or other outreach ministry.

I also made a goal to encourage one person every day, for a total of 365 people. We are 31 days into this month, and I was really thinking about this one at the beginning but later lost count. I decided to keep it as an overall goal to find someone to encourage - not necessarily to go looking for that person, but when God brings them my way, to be faithful in the moment.

My goals center around just a few things: to spend time digging in to the Word of God, getting to know Him more intimately, to spend time with my family, loving and enjoying them, and to be a part of the Body of Christ in a way that is feasible and exciting to me.

Those are goals I can live with and ones that I am excited about. There is no "lose weight" or "eat healthier" or "sign up for a gym membership" on the list. 1 Sam 16:7 has been ringing in my ears lately. "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."

Chronicles of the Poopenator

Does anyone else feel like the time has come for another post on poop? It's been a while. Sniff. Too long, actually. Sniff, sniff. Fortunately there is never a lack of material for me to...er, work with over here.

What happened the other night deserves a retelling. I was called in the middle of the afternoon to run interference with the toilet who had decided not to flush (I'm convinced he hates us!). I pulled out the handy-dandy plunger that I keep really close to the toilet because of the immense number of times I have to plunge that stupid contraption. Remind me sometime to tell you my rant about toilets that can't flush poop. Where else do they expect you to put it?! Maybe they just need some volunteers to test the toilets' designs before they start selling them. ("Who wants to try out our new toilet? We need poopers, people!") Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The poop.

I was plunging and plunging, and I just could. not. get the stuff to move! I began to get angry. Why (plunge) did they (plunge) even make these (plunge, grunt) stupid toilets (plunge) anyway? Whose idea (plunge) was that? (plunge) I HATE (PLUNGE) TOILETS!! (PLUNGE, PLUNGE!) (pause to blow my hair off my forehead)

Wait.

Is there a reason why the poop isn't disappearing? Is there, could there be...something else in the toilet that's not just poop??!

I turned to the kids who were all standing watching me in some mixture of horror, amusement, and awe. "Did someone put something in the toilet?" I asked, seemingly calmly.

"No." They were wary, even though I seemed calm.

"Are you sure?" Just a hint of emotion.

"Well..."

"What was it?" I asked.

"Umm, it was Riley." Ah, Joey. I knew you would crack first.

"What did Riley put in there?"

"A ball."

"Oh, really? What kind of ball? A little bouncy ball?"

"No, a bath toy. The green one. And he flushed it. And then he laughed."

Ah. The kids were given a bath basketball set a while ago that has three balls with it, approximately 3 inches in diameter each. Approximately the size of my toilet's (stupid toilet!) pipes.

And I had just been standing there plunging. With all my might. For 10 minutes.

Most certainly pushing the ball much farther up the pipe than it would have otherwise gone. Most certainly causing a small and mostly annoying problem to become a big, stinky mess!

I called Pete, but he wasn't answering. I texted him what had happened, and he still didn't answer. So I called Pete's dad, house-fixer extraodinaire! He said (when he got his breath back after he laughed at me. A lot.) that I would probably have to take the toilet apart and see if I could see the ball (starts laughing again) in the pipes anywhere. He said I should leave that part for Pete, but there is always the draining of the toilet to be done. I could take care of that (laughing again).

So I found a bucket and a tupperware that my mom wanted to throw away anyway (she just hadn't quite realized it yet) and went to work. I drained all of the poopy water out and put it down the shower (where else do you dump it?). Then I bleached the shower. Then I took off all my clothes and turned them inside out and put them in a separate pile next to, but not inside of the hamper. Then I threw up a little bit in my mouth. Then I scrubbed myself with amazing amounts of soap.*

Then I talked to Pete when he called. "So I guess you'll have to take the toilet off when you get home and see if you can find the ball," I told him. He groaned. Then he laughed. He could laugh because he was miles away from the bathroom.

I had piano lessons that night and therefore could not be at home to help him, but when I returned, he said he had taken care of it.

"Did you find the ball?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," He was half-exultant, half-disgusted. "I found that ball completely covered in s**t."

And for once, there didn't seem to be a better way to describe it.

Apparently the ball was still stuck in the toilet's pipe, which was a good thing, but it meant that Pete had to push the ball back up into the bowl of the toilet along with the rest of the junk that had gotten clogged on top of the ball. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. Let's just say poop doesn't break down as fast as you might think it would when there is a green-bath-toy ball in its way. Let's also just say that with the toilet fully tipped on its side so he could get to the bottom of the pipe, there was no where else for that stuff to go than on the floor (he was prepared with rag towels on the floor) and on him (yuck! yuck! yuck!).

Not that this is the first time, but I am SO GLAD that God made husbands. If we have to live through kids growing up, I am repeatedly and repeatedly and tearily thankful that God did not send us into the world all by our lonesomes.

I would have puked. A lot. And then where would we be? Toilet-less. Green-bath-toy-ball-less. And much much much unhappier.

I think it's safe to say that Pete is now...


The Poopenator!

This is my submission for the official costume of The Poopenator. (This is my brother-in-law when we were moving. He is wearing: a boppy, a closet rod, and a bumbo. Upside down.)


*Please note that no poop actually touched me in this story. Was this an overreaction??!

The Liger...It's Pretty Much My Favorite Animal

Pete: Joey, what are you drawing?

Joey: Uh, a skuk-a-duke.

Pete: Oh, a skuk-a-duke, huh? Those are your favorites, aren't they?

Joey: Yeah. I like skuk-a-dukes the best.

Pete: Do you like skuk-a-dukes as much as you like blueberry pancakes?

Joey: Yeah. (giggles) I sure do, Dad.

Rules to Live By

Rules for Dealing Successfully With a Toddler:

1. When they say no, say yes. This technique is guaranteed to get your way in at least 13.2% of your battles. (Some have said you would have won those anyway, but we can close our ears to the nay-sayers and press onward with what we know works!)

2. When they yell "Mine!" at you, get right up in their face and yell, "No! MINE!" That should shut them up. If nothing else, it will give you the opportunity to act like a 2 year old, which is sometimes a lot of fun.

3. When they bite you, bite them back. Then when they're crying, say, "No biting!" Then bite yourself again to show you get the same discipline they do.

4. When they reach into their poopy diaper when you are out in public, get some poop on their hand, then reach up and smear it on you, don't panic! Glance around to see if anyone is watching. If someone is, look at the child with a sad expression on your face, and say, "Oh, did you lose your mommy, honey? Let's go find her." Then take the child by the hand and walk around asking everyone you see if this is their child. Hopefully everyone will say no and you can get out to the car (where you can start yelling and stomping your feet about the poop) before anyone notices that he or she looks surprisingly like you. (This will be a little more difficult to pull off if the child is sitting in your stroller with your purse hanging on it, or if you have other older children who will stand near you and say, "Mom, that's not that lady's kid! He's Riley, and he's ours!" Then you might have to get a little creative, but I'm sure you can think of some way to still be successful even facing such odds.)

If you follow these 4 tips, I am certain that you will be approximately 50% successful in dealing with your toddler. Remember, in time they will learn to only use bad behavior in front of their family, their friends, and some small animals. The rest will fall away as they are further enlightened (and as they reach the age where they can be bribed with soda and candy and things like that).

P.S. If they ever make a face like this one for you, just give them whatever they want. I'm sure that's the best way to develop happy, healthy kids (and to make sure you can get some rest at night!).