The Sweet Spot

Don't Forget to Bookmark Homespun Moments

2011-03-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

I know you have the best of intentions...

But (most of) you haven't friended me on my new blog.

:(

I cried for a whole week straight.

Oh wait, I only started the blog a few days ago.

Well, I cried since then.

So go friend me already.

Change the bookmark on your computer. I posted something really funny yesterday, and only. ONE. person read it. L-A-M-E.

I'll wait while you take care of it right now.

I'm waiting...

New Blog!

2011-02-26T23:13:00.000-07:00

Hello, Faithful Sweet Spot Readers!

I started a new blog tonight, and I wanted you to be the first to know about it. Mostly because I'm dying for you to go to it and follow me there.

I will no longer be updating the Sweet Spot, and although there is some sadness in my heart about that, I know its season has passed. You will find my reasons on the "About Me" page of my new blog, Homespun Moments.

I will be gradually moving stories over to Homespun Moments, and eventually will probably delete the Sweet Spot, but that will be far off in the future. For now, feel free to read old posts here and support me on the new one as well!

Sweetie

Hiking Adventure

2011-02-17T08:30:00.001-07:00

We have recently taken up hiking regularly in the mountains near our house. We love the fresh air, the lack of people nearby, the views from the top of the mountain...

Most of all, I love moments like these:

Riley: Aaaaaa! [stops eating his snack]
Pete: What happened?
Riley: That squirrel is coming towards me!
Pete: Squirrel? That's a fly.
Riley: Fly-fly.
Joey: Was the fly-fly a squirrel?
Riley: No. [resumes eating as though nothing had happened]

The littlest one got tired at the end of the 2-mile trek.

P.S. We saw a waterfall. Well, it was more like a water trickle this time of year, but still. It was awesome.

The Challenge Completion

2011-01-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

A little while ago, I posted the Challenge contest. Click here if you don't remember what I'm talking about. Although I only had one entry, it was a good one and well deserving of the prize. The prize was a little bit different, though, than in past contests. The winner won another challenge, which I would craft specifically for him or her, and if that was completed, there would be a real prize.

Here is a copy of my email to the winner, Buttercup, detailing what she needed to do and the prize she would win.

Find someone you know (from work, church, neighbor, family member, Starbucks barrista, etc.) who is having a hard time this Christmas. Your challenge is to be a secret Santa to that person (or a secret Jesus) by first finding out in what way they are struggling and then finding creative ways to bring them comfort and joy. It can be through whatever way you see fit, but you are not allowed to spend more than $20 on the whole challenge. Lavish God's goodness on them at least three times before Christmas, and I'll give you this Willow Tree statue. It's one of my favorites, and it seems appropriate for completing a challenge! :)

The Card on the Courage Willow Tree Angel Card reads, "Bringing a triumphant spirit, inspiration and courage."

I told her if she completed the challenge, not only would she get the angel, but also a chance to guest-post on The Sweet Spot to let you know how it went. Here is her post about the challenge. Hope you enjoy the read! Congratulations, Buttercup on completing the challenge!!

When Sweetie posted her challenge on the Sweet Spot, my creative juices starting revving up. Though there are many challenges I've given myself these last few months, the one I'm guessing will keep me on my knees most this year is one I didn't ask for. In fact, when I was offered this challenge, I refused. . .not once, but several times. Finally, both the principal and vice principal of our school (independent of each other) told me they had been thinking and praying and really felt like I was the right person for the position. I'd been asked to take over a 3rd grade classroom for a fellow teacher going on maternity leave. Going back to an elementary classroom after a 4 1/2 year absence is a bit terrifying for me. "Fear is not of God," my mom reminded me gently, yet pointedly. So, I start that next week. Please pray for me if you think of it! My boss has reminded me that they're using this experience to see if they want to offer me a similar position next year (*gulp* no pressure!). So, Sweetie's challenge came right as I'd prayerfully decided to take the opportunity and felt God calling me to face my fear. I'll let you know how it goes!

Because I wrote the most compelling *ahem* essay, Sweetie said I qualified for Round 2 of the challenge series: to pick a person to bless who is having a difficult time this holiday season. I grinned smugly to myself, "Easy." The hard part would be picking just one person!

I couldn't narrow it down, so I picked a really sweet couple and two other hard-working people who often get overlooked (how my heart goes out to those who seem unnoticed). They were all having an especially discouraging time. Writing notes of encouragement to them was so much fun! I could hardly wait for them to read my notes - hoping they would be as happy to receive them as I'd been writing them. :)

Then, I was convicted that I was choosing people who are easy to love - they are kind to me and such positive people to be around. Another person was on my heart - someone who resents me right now for getting something that they should have been given. It was nothing I asked for or wanted, but something she wanted very much. I feel so guilty for this blessing and want to explain to her, but somehow the explanation feels like a cheapskate sympathy pat on the back. :( I figured it would be better if she didn't know this gift was from me, so I put together movie tickets and a coffee gift card. It didn't change any of her feelings towards me, but somehow it increased my compassion for her. Funny how that works. :) Thanks, Sweetie, for helping me to put what would have been a flickering well-meaning thought and coaxing it to action!

It's Raining Men, Hallelujah

2011-01-08T10:10:00.000-07:00

The other day I had to make a quick run to Bahsa's after lunch. I don't normally shop at Basha's in favor of Sprouts or Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, but as Basha's is right around the corner for my house, and I was short on time, it ended up being the place of choice. We got there, and I was instantly reminded of why I don't normally shop at Basha's. A dollar-ninety-nine for a dozen eggs?? Really? Last week I bought them for half that price at Sprouts. On and on the short list went, costing me twenty-five of Pete's hard-working dollars to "pick up" "a few things" on the list that needed to be picked up for the making of brownies that night so we could go to my dad's for belated-Christmas dinner. You might not think $25 is so bad, but I was planning on spending about twelve. Count 'em, $12. So you might imagine my mood was not the best, and to top it off at Basha's, my kids scanned the first item before I could punch in my phone number to get my you're-a-Basha's-very-important-not-really-so-important-just-kidding-person discount. Or Y.A.B.V.I.N.R.S.I.J.K.P.D., as it were. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the screen to go back or find a new way for me to enter my phone number, so I was stuck not just paying a dollar ninety-nine for my eggs, but two dollars and nineteen cents. It was mildly annoying. Also, Joey was sitting under the conveyor belt finding dropped candies and forgotten pieces of gum and sampling each one to "see if he liked it". Also, Riley was kicking Skylar every time she got close enough to the cart, and for whatever odd reason, she continued walking close to the cart in order that she could get kicked. And then yell about it.

Just like a girl.

We left, and I sat in the parking lot for a while staring at the screen of my GPS, willing it to find the Chevron that I knew was close by, but it refused to find that one and found ones that were at best 4.2 miles away, and at worst, 10.1 miles away. I remembered driving past one just down the street with Pete, but I couldn't remember the exact cross streets. After having it search and search and search again, we decided to just go to the one that we do know where it is, and we set off. About a mile down Dysart, a small dog ran out into the middle of my lane. I thought about stopping, but then I heard Pete's voice in my head, as I usually do in these circumstances saying, "Don't stop. He'll move for you. Don't slow down. You're a bigger risk to traffic if you stop in the middle of the road than it is if you hit a pigeon." Only, it wasn't a pigeon this time. It was a dog. Scratch that, it was a P-U-P-P-Y! He was so cute and so scared. I hesitated. He didn't move. Then I figured we were hitting the point of no return. If I didn't stop now, I wouldn't be able to stop in time under the slight chance that he didn't move. I looked at him. He didn't look like he was moving. So I slammed on the breaks. We screeched to a stop just in front of the dog, who had NOT moved, thank you very much, but now looked up at me in great terror. GREAT TERROR! He still was not moving. So I honked. Bad Decision, let me tell you. The dog became even more scared than he had been before and cowered in front of my car. I put ol' Gwenny in park and opened the door, looking in front of the car. Where was the dog? I saw something out of the corner of my eye and realized the dog had come around by my door. I made another Bad Decision and spoke to the dog using my Mom Voice. Which, as anyone knows, only frightens little scared peanut dogs even more. At which point, understandably, and yet exasperatingly, he ran under my car. In the middle of a big, busy street, a little cowery dog under my car.

At this point, another car stopped behind me, and a Very Nice Lady joined me in attempting to cajole the puppy out from under Gwenny. (Have I told you our car's name before? It's crucial to understanding this story. Our car's name is Gwendolyn* Cindy** Deegan, typically shortened to Gwenny, except when she's acting up again, and then she gets the full name, oh yes, she does!) She offered Mr. E.T.P (Extremely Terrifiable Puppy) some food, and he still refused to come out. Then I reached under for him, and he almost crawled out the other side. Into the traffic. Zooming past us because we were stopping up a whole lane of a big, busy street. I called to the kids to pray that the doggy would come out on our side and not the other side so he wouldn't get dead on the middle of the road, and they were happy to be useful. Then, to all of our relief, another car pulled up. A man got out. A MAN. I was never so grateful to see a man in my whole life. Except for maybe a few other times when I was slightly more grateful, but still, I was pretty grateful. The man listened to the situation, assessed the danger to little Mr. E.T.P., and he walked calmly out into the other lane of traffic, bent under the car, and grabbed the puppy. Just like that.

No fear about getting squashed to a pancake or not being able to reach the dog or having any number of hideous things happen to him, just walked out there, grabbed the dog, and walked back.

I love men. I love that God gave us different roles and counterparts and that he put in men an absence of good sense when it comes to dangerous things. Sometimes it comes in so handy. Poor Mr. E.T.P. was reunited with the distraught woman who was dog-sitting him (think she'll ever get called for that job again? I think not!), and I got to watch on the sidelines as he told her to "make sure" the dog "didn't get out" "again". It was awesome. She was almost crying, considering she had thought her short life as a dog-sitter was over. But, good news, her dog happened to run in front of the car of the one person in the entire Phoenix metropolitan area who was more freaked out about killing life forms on the street than just about anyone else. EVER. So in the end, it really worked out well for the dog that we had to sit at Basha's and fight with the machine to try to get our Just-Kidding card number put in, that we had to sit in the parking lot fighting with the GPS trying to get it to point us to the right gas station, that we had to run to the store to just pick up a few things to make the brownies for the belated Christmas. That way, we arrived right on time to save his little life.

It had the added bonus of making me not care about the $25 at Basha's. Isn't life more important than hard-earned (by Pete) bucks? It was also in the dog's best interests that we were joined by several others who offered to help.

Especially the man.

*Because she needed a "princess name"
** After my sister-in-law's cat. Odd, I know, but that's where it came from.

Happy Day

2010-12-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

Hooray!! I went for a run today! Remember you promised to do a happy dance with me when I returned? Well, I'm back now, and it's time to jump and shout for joy.

I love Snoopy. Hopefully you won't make people angry when you dance with me.

Here's one more to make you smile. Do you get chills when you watch this one?

Have a happy day today!

Sweetie

The Art of the Challenge Contest!

2010-12-06T22:06:00.000-07:00

This Christmas is such a different Christmas for me. For the first time in 6 years now, I am not pregnant, nursing, or chasing a one-year-old around the house. For the FIRST time. I have been rapidly unpacking our new house, which I love more and more every day. But some days, my legs just crave a workout. They tell me I have nothing to do now that the last little one can turn on the TV and plunk himself down in front of it without any help. He can get an apple out of the fruit bowl, wash it, peel off the sticker, stick it to his shirt, and eat it without any help. He can beat up his brother and sister without any help. So instead of running around trying to keep everyone contained, trying to just plain survive Christmas, I feel a trifle bored.

I took up running recently, and it's been good for the legs. But I haven't run since we moved. I twisted my ankle during the move, and it didn't get a chance to rest with the race to unpack before the Thanksgiving company came. Then I got the flu, and when I recovered from that, my ankle felt fine, but my stomach was still so queasy. So I excused and excused and excused, but now I'm telling you: I NEED to run!

This is me, running.

Which brings me to my next point. If I blog about running tonight, I'll actually do it tomorrow, and that will feel so wonderful. If I don't run tomorrow, I give you the license to drive by my (fabulous, wonderful, amazing) new house and throw rotten fruit at me. I will not give you my address for this, so don't bother to ask. But if I do run, I think you should jump and cheer with me and do a little dance for joy when I get back home. I'll let you know when that is.

My friend offered to give me a pair of running shoes for free if I run twice a week for a month. I am so up for the challenge. My goal is to have those shoes on January 7. Not 2024. Just in case you were wondering.

Ok, fine. I look more like this. But with more hair.

Which brings me to my next point. In what ways are you challenging yourself right now? Or in what way is someone else challenging you? I am one of those people who pretty much wouldn't do anything if there was a No Challenge law in effect. I would sit around on my lazy tush and...well, er, blog. It is such a good thing that they haven't been able to ratify that law yet. Are you like that, or is that just me? Constantly throughout the day, I make up little challenges for myself so I can get done what I need to get done. I challenge myself to do 6 loads of laundry every week. I challenge myself to vacuum my carpet once a week. I challenge myself to do the dishes every night. I challenge myself to listen to my children, to read to them two times a day, to read my Bible every day, and so on and so forth ad nauseum. If I actually accomplished all of my challenges, I would be the most amazing person you've ever known.

Oh, wait. I already am that.

Anyway. I don't actually complete all of my challenges every week because life happens. But I work so much better when I have an idea of what I want to accomplish in my mind throughout the day. If I don't have that, I just feel lost and listless.

So now it's your turn to tell me about challenges. Do you make them for yourself? Do you accomplish the ones you set out to accomplish? Why do you need or not need challenges? I will accept 400-word* essays in my inbox (click on the "email me" link on my profile page) no later than 8 am Friday, December 10 (this Friday for the calendarly challenged). The person with the most interesting and compelling essay will win a new challenge. That's right, I'll create my own personal challenge for the winner, with a special prize if you complete my challenge. I can't tell you what the prize will be because it will be specific to the winner. But we can post pictures, and you can guest post on The Sweet Spot to let everyone know what your challenge was and how you completed it. Are you starting to get excited? Do you think it's a lame game? No matter what you think, send me an essay, and you could win!

Sweetie

*Seriously, don't count the words. Just write down what you want to say and send it in.

Christmas

2010-11-30T12:39:00.000-07:00

We set up our Christmas tree last night, and I had to wonder: Does anyone love Christmas as much as I do? Is it even possible that someone could love Christmas that much?

This morning when we got up, all the lights were sparkling on our tree, and decorations were floating around the house. Overnight, our home was transformed into a Christmas wonderland. My 6 year old looked around and said, "Mom, all this Christmas spirit is just growing up inside of me, and it is just so wonderful. I just love Christmas." This was said with a tender hand placed on her heart and tears welling up in her eyes.

And then I knew. Of course, my daughter, so much like me, you love Christmas as much as I do. Because although I don't say those words out loud anymore...

...I was thinking the exact same thing.

Settling In

2010-11-29T17:18:00.000-07:00

We have been moved in to our new home for approximately 8.5 days now, and let me tell you...

...it is bliss!

Except for the parts where I've thrown up twice since being here (2 separate nights), Riley has a problem with pooping all over (85.3 loads of laundry), and I can't find my cereal bowls.

Besides those things...

...bliss.

I was extremely awesome and hosted Thanksgiving approximately 3.5 days after we had moved in. Was I crazy, you ask?

Yes.

Yes, I was.

But it went so well. We have so much to be thankful for this year!! I loved the idea I read on my friend Buttercup's blog about putting up a thankful box on the entryway table and having people add to it all year long. Then on Thanksgiving, they pass the box around and read what they've been thankful for that year. What a great idea! Speaking of Buttercup, she found a picture of the two of us from years ago in college before we knew each other and became fans of each other's blogs. You should check it out.

I will post pictures of the new house once we get the big computer set up because I don't have my camera software loaded on the laptop. Until then, I will tell you about it.

It is bliss.

Am I boring you yet? Just wondering.

No, I'll wait for the pictures. Send me happy unpacking thoughts and throw salt in your brother's ear to banish the evil spirits of You've-Unpacked-Enough-ness. They are really hounding me right now.

It has nothing to do with the fact that I am still recovering from the flu and might have needed a small rest. Not that I had anything from which to rest since I did not singlehandedly unpack almost my entire house in 3 days before my in-laws came to stay with us for Thanksgiving.

What?

They stayed with us?!

Yes.

Yes, they did.

And we had SO much fun it should be a crime.

Also, I did not single-handedly unpack almost my entire house because I had help. I had a friend come over every one of those 3 days and help me unpack. And I had my Big Man who unpacked and organized the garage without an ounce of my help.

Well, do the few ounces of nagging count as help?

No, I thought not.

Anyway, all of that is to say that the Sweet Spot is officially up and running again, and I am so excited to announce that I will *probably* blog again before January 1.

2015.

And also possibly before the week is over.

Wouldn't that be something!?!

And now, I'm dying to know: How was your Thanksgiving? For what were you thankful? What did you eat? With whom did you spend it? Comment and let me know how awesome your holiday was!

A Tail From Behind

2010-11-12T17:36:00.000-07:00

Ha ha. I've always wanted to use that title. And even though this isn't exactly the most appropriate post for it, well...Come on, I haven't posted in about 2 years, so let me title the post what I want to title it.

If I told you I had good news, would you believe me?

Of course you would. You believe everything I say.

(You really shouldn't, you know. It's going to get you into trouble one of these days.)

Well, the good news is we have finally found a house! We are moving out!! In a week!!!

Yikes.

So you want to know the story behind it all, right? (Well, maybe you don't but you can skip this post if you don't care to know.)

Right near the end of October, things got a bit out of control here at my mom's, and I called my mother-in-law to vent/cry/get-lots-of-sympathy, and she said, "You need to start looking at houses! Find one or two that you like, and then ask God to pay for it. But you need to start looking!"

Both Pete and I felt like she was right. We had set a timeline with my mom that we would be out by December, and that was/is coming up quickly. So we started looking. And surprising to say, we found NOTH-ING! We had been keeping an eye on the market so that we would be prepared for what we could afford, but mysteriously, the week we started looking, there was nothing in our price range in the areas we wanted. We looked for about 2 weeks, and found a couple of things that might work, which I sent over to our Realtor and asked him if he could get us in to see them. We have worked with this realtor before, and when I spoke with him on the phone at the beginning of this search, he seemed eager to help. But I heard not a single thing back from him. I checked back on the properties I had found, and they were all rented out within the week. I called and left messages with the realtor--Hey, can you show us some houses? We're really ready to move! Nothing. Feeling frustrated, I finally emailed him that if I didn't hear back from him, we would just go our own way. I never heard back from him.

We then tried another realtor who lives just across the street from us and who has told us many times that she would be glad to help us find a house. Nothing. We found a house that we really liked, and I decided to just call them directly since we couldn't get a hold of a realtor. Nothing. I called them and left 3 messages, Pete called and left a message, and we emailed twice. Or, well, okay, 4 times. And that was just the first week. We haven't heard anything from them still, although the property is still listed on MLS. (I think maybe they hate me at this point. "Hello, this is Sweetie, and I've been trying to reach you. I don't know if you've gotten all of my messages, but...")*

At this point, maybe you're starting to feel my frustration. I was asking God why He wanted us to start looking if He wasn't going to let us find. I broke down in tears to Pete one night, saying it was never going to happen. (Just in case you don't know, I can be a bit** of a drama queen. Remind me to tell you my story about how I felt near the end of Skylar's pregnancy sometime. It went a little something like this: "I'm never going to have this baby! I know you never hear of anyone being pregnant forever, but I will be, you just watch! I can tell! She's never going to come out!" You laugh, but it wasn't really that funny. For Pete.) Anyway...

He told me that we just hadn't found the right house yet, and let's not give up too soon. I tried again with the ads in the paper the next day, and I found a couple that looked promising. I called on one of them and was able to get a real person. She said she was at the property right then, and I could come over if I wanted. So I loaded the kids up and drove them over, and when we got out, the house looked...okay. Not in a great neighborhood, but it was in our price range, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be picky. Turns out there was mold under the kitchen and bathroom sinks, and by the time we left 20 minutes later, both the boys were wheezing audibly, and I sneezed the whole way home. Riley developed a fever later that afternoon, and I became completely convinced that we needed to look for a house that was built in 1995 or later and had no visible signs of water damage or leaky pipes. Pete and I talked about it that night and felt firmly settled on that point. We also redid our budget and firmly nailed down a price. Then we put in our search criteria...looked through about 500 houses, and found 2 that seemed like possibilities. Count them. TWO.

I called on the two the next day and was (magically) able to get a hold of the realtor listing one of them, and she agreed to show me both of them. She said she could be there in 15 minutes. This was a little bit of a change from how things had been going, so I started to get excited. Then I reminded myself what had happened the day before with the m.o.l.d., and told myself not to get my hopes up. Sure enough, the first one we looked at had mold under the kitchen sink. (BTW, Does everyone just leave their mold hanging out under the sink these days? Couldn't you at least bleach the area before I come over??) But they had nicely covered it up with a see-through piece of plastic, and you know, I think that helped.

That house was a no, then.

We went to the next one. It was right next to a greenbelt with a bike path and playground for the kids. I started to get excited. But when we went inside, the paint looked horrible! Patchy up the walls and all over the ceiling, noticeably different colors on the same wall. The fridge was broken, and there were two windows broken. If I could have seen past all of that, I liked the layout, and I liked the kitchen a lot. But the problems were still there, and I wasn't sure I could see past them. I gave Pete the run-down when he got home.

"I like it," he told me.

"I just got done telling you all the things I didn't like about it," I countered.

"I know, but I like it. I think you should apply for it tomorrow."

I sighed and stomped my feet (inwardly). Outwardly, I said, "Sure, honey, I'll get right on that."

The next day, I called the realtor and told her we wanted to apply. She told me I should get the application and all of this paperwork in to her by 11:00 that morning. It was 9:30. I told her it wasn't possible to gather all the necessary documents that quickly, but I would start working on things and get it to her in the next couple of days. (Can you sense my hesitation?) She pressured me to get it done sooner, and we all know how well I like to be pressured. That is, er, NOT at all. So I told her it was going to get done when it got done, fully expecting it to take a few days. Oddly enough, Pete was able to get his paystubs within about 10 minutes, and we were able to fax back and forth the copies of drivers licenses/signatures, etc. When we finished the last little bit, it was 2:30 pm. I washed my hands of it, expecting to not hear anything from them for a few days. At least. And the way our luck was going, maybe never.

Pete called me on the way home, and he said she had called him back. She had asked him what day we wanted to move in because she wanted to make sure she had all the repairs (including a new paint job, a fixed fridge, and a fixed window) done before we moved in. She left a message because he was working.

"Does that mean we're approved?" I asked, confused.

"I'm not sure," he was equally confused. "She didn't really say those exact words that we were approved, but it kind of sounded like it."

But kind of's and maybe's hadn't worked out so well for us in the past, so I wasn't holding my breath.

I called her back that evening, but she had already gone for the day. We would just have to wait until the next day to find out. The next day, the realtor called us and congratulated us on being approved. She asked if I knew we were approved, and I told her I hadn't been sure. She congratulated us again, and said she would start drawing up the paperwork for the lease.

And that was pretty much that. The kids and I just got back from dropping off the signed lease documents, and they said everything is in order for us to move in next Saturday. Next Saturday?! After a year and a half here, we see a property one day, and 9 days later, we're moving into it. I guess it just goes to show who really holds the Power. (Here's a hint. It's not me.) (Wait, what?! I thought I had the Power. Lame.)

I have fought depression, anger, numbness, and fear while we have lived here. It hasn't been pretty most of the time. You are probably all too aware of that. And yet, bing-bang-boom, we're moving out. The home--no, our home--is almost 1800 square feet, has 4 bedrooms, a living room and a family room (school room, anyone? Anyone? Just me?), and here's the best part: a soaking tub and a shower in the master bathroom. Whoa. Master bathroom? What's that? You mean I don't have to have toothpaste squeezed all over my counters EVERY day anymore? I don't have to move Leo and his rocket ship before I can take a shower? I don't have to kick aside 4 pairs of poopy underwear just to get to the toilet? (And plus, why are there 4 every day? I only have two kids that are potty-trained. I'm going to have to talk to Pete about that.)***

Oh man, it's going to be awesome. Just so so awesome. Come visit me sometime, and I'll show you my bathroom that won't have toothpaste all over it, and I'll show you my tub that doesn't have an inch of Joey-dirt in the bottom. Even though I cleaned the tub THIS MORNING.

Well, could we say I'm excited? Because I am. And yet here's the sobering thought. Now I have to pack all the j-u-n-k we've been cramming into this house for 17 months. In a week. And I need to go mop the kitchen floor. My sister is coming tomorrow, and since she doesn't have kids, she's not exactly used to that constant crunching sound every time you take a step. Well, I'm off to it. Wish me luck.

(Oh, and do you want to come and help me pack? That would be a big help.)

(No, seriously. I wasn't joking.)

I can't wait to write my first post from my new house! It will be entitled Where Is My Computer? I Think My New House Ate It...or something like that.

Signing off, take care, have a fabulous weekend, send me good-packing thoughts, and I'll write you again when I remove 8,000 boxes from the top of my head.

Sweetie

*I don't really call myself Sweetie on the phone. That would be sooooo weird. No, when I really want to get something done, I call myself by my given name. Mommy.

**A bit? Ahem. Oh, right, a *bit*.

***Sorry, hon, I couldn't resist. Please don't hurt me!!

Esta una problema con el traduccion!

2010-08-23T21:59:00.000-07:00

Riley: Oh i-fist-ibee and deyod!
Joey: Oh i-finsitee and beyond!
Riley: Ho i-finst-ibee and deyond!
Joey: Oh i-finsitee and BEyond!
Riley: Ho in-finskle-keys and DE-YOND!

Buzz Lightyear lives here, but someone was messing with his translator.

"To Infinity and Beyond!"

Blogging and Fat Cat Chickens

2010-08-13T15:11:00.000-07:00

I love blogging.

I really do.

It's just that lately...

There seem to be too many funny stories and not nearly enough time to write them all down so you can share in them. However, we are long overdo on the Sweet Spot for a funny story. So here goes.

This week we are housesitting for some friends who are out of town. (It would be slightly more awkward to be housesitting for them if they were still in town, so it's nice that they left before we moved into their house.) They have a cat that I'm pretty sure is a descendant from a mountain lion considering her ability to terrify all of us. Yes, even Pete.

Well, maybe not Pete, but the rest of us are definitely quaking in our boots.

No, Pete's terrified too.

Anyway, she loves to sit in the chairs at the dining room table and eat food from my kids' plates. She just loves it. Any time I serve fish or chicken (even if it's disguised in pasta like it was the other day), she waits for the opportunity to get at the food. A few days ago, Joey gave her the opportunity when he dropped his fork or napkin or some such other thing of consequence on the ground. You see, when he got up to get it, he left his chair exposed.

Wide open, if you will.

And Suma, ever the opportunist, jumped up on his chair and started eating his chicken. Joey, naturally, screamed bloody murder until I came running in from the kitchen where I was trying to get my own food on my plate so I could come and eat too. I ran in, quickly assessed the situation, and shooed Suma away from the table. Then I went back to the kitchen to finish getting my food, giving Joey strict orders NOT to get down from the table no matter what the circumstances.

"She won't jump up in your chair if you're sitting in it," was my pithy mom-logic that I imparted to him.

I thought I was right.

I had a deep-found belief way down in my soul that what I was saying was true and accurate.

I had no idea how wrong I was.

Because not more than 2 minutes later (yes, I agree, it was taking me a long time to make my lunch that day. I don't know why, except that it must take a while to be as extremely awesome as I am), I heard the blood-curdling yell again. I ran out and saw Joey out of his chair. Again.

"Bud, didn't you hear me say that you can't get out of your seat? Why'd you get up this time?"

"Because Suma jumped up in my chair and scratched at my arm until I got up! And then she started eating my chicken!!"

Yes, folks, Suma is just that awesome also. She may look like a normal, slightly fat cat that could be nice to you under better circumstances, but don't be fooled. Underneath the twitching tail and winking eyes, she is a cougar. A panther, even. A wild animal who cannot be tamed by any man.

Well, maybe she's not quite that bad, but you know what I mean.

Plus, the next night at dinner, I was at the table, and I saw her walk over to Joey and scratch at his arm until he screamed and got out of his chair. I'm not saying it took much, but I am saying that she was determined to get her some dinner. And she was determined that she didn't have to be bound by social norms and only eat the cat food which was plentiful in her bowl.

"Cat food is for sissies."

"I will eat you all for dinner."

"Wait! I'm not a cat!"

So anyway, we are trying to put on a big show of force right now and let Suma know that she can't scare us.

But really, she does.

Oh, she does.

If we're dead by the end of the weekend, at least you'll know what hit us.

"Suma'd."

HomeStarRunner, anyone? Teen Girl Squad? "Arrowed!"

Calling All SweetSpot Readers!

2010-08-11T16:40:00.000-07:00

I was leaving a comment on a friend's blog, and my word verification was "porking."

Now, I'm a pretty open-minded kind of person.

But even I struggle to think of anything good that could be dubbed "porking."

It got me to thinking that we ought to list out some of the best and worst word verification words. Share an old one that's stuck with you through the years, or leave a comment right now and post whatever word comes up for you.

Can't Wait to Read 'Em!

School Shopping

2010-07-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

We are off to get backpacks for the kids. This will be the first time they can choose a backpack, so needless to say, emotions are running high in our house right now. How fun is school shopping, seriously?! That was the time I looked forward to all year long, so I understand why my kids are so excited about it. New crayons, new markers, new glue sticks, new wonderful tools with which to create marvelous masterpieces.

Before we go, I wanted to check in with you and get your help on a little problem I'm having. When we start school, we always do a quacky question, which the kids just love. It's silly, we sing a little song, and they get to start the day thinking about something completely random from the recesses of my brain. :) This year, however, in the midst of doing so much other planning for curriculum, I draw a blank every time I try to think of a list of quacky questions. So I need your help! Send in quacky questions, as many as you can think of. It's not a contest, but we'll use all of them that are appropriate (I just had to add the qualifier in there for some of you. Who shall remain nameless.)

As an example, some of our quacky questions last year were:
If you could paint your room any color, what would you paint it and why?
If you could be any animal, what would you be, and why?
If you could grow up and do anything, what would you do, and why?
How should we treat people who have less money than we do? What should our attitude toward them be?
What is your favorite silly word, and why?

You get the point that there were many different topics, and the point was to get them talking, so I'm not looking for "yes or no" questions. Anything that will make them think or laugh and ultimately talk will work. I can't wait to see what you come up with!!

I've Made a Discovery

2010-07-28T12:34:00.000-07:00

...The Earth really is flat after all, and I fell off the edge!

Yes, I am still here, even though you might not have guessed that.

I am still just as funny on the inside, only now no one truly appreciates the funniness since it's not being written down and sent out to millions of people on the internet.

Not that millions of people were ever reading it, but hey, a girl can dream.

So what can I say to catch you up?

We had birthday month, and we have finally finished it.

Phew.

Birthday month is when we have four birthdays and an anniversary in 31 days time. We start with Pete and end with our anniversary, and there is no break in between. It makes my eyes twitch and my kids go on sugar overload. Permanently. It makes our house filled with presents that we need to put away (where??), wrapping paper that I want to save but can't find a place for, and leftover pieces of cake that we just can't remember to whom they belong anymore. It usually ends with someone saying his or her stomach hurts. A lot. (Fine, you're right, it's me.) And with someone curled in the fetal position saying he or she will NEVER live through another Birthday Month. (Yep, that's me too.)

However, we had a spectacular time this year on our birthday celebrations. Everyone got special cake, games, meals to order, and birthday messages from Mom and Dad. Joey's birthday meal list included eggy muffins for breakfast called Nun's Puffs (awesome, by the way, if you feel adventurous!), and scrambled eggs with toast for dinner. Do you think the kid likes eggs? On Skylar's list was french toast (also eggs and bread) and quesadillas (the girl does seriously love her cheese!).

And the best news is that I am now the proud ~~owner~~ mother of a 6 year old, a 4 year old, and a 2 year old. No more explaining that my kids really aren't that close together when I say "5, 3, and 2" and they say, "Oh my goodness! You had them all right together!" As if I would have sent one of them back because it wasn't exactly 2.3 years after I had the other one. I mean, come on, people, can we stop making that comment?! Kids come when they want to, and for SOME people, "planning" just. doesn't. work. So there.

Also, on a side note, I was out school shopping with the kids, and the cashier asked Skylar if I was her sister or her mom. I was standing right there, and she didn't ask me. She asked Skylar. When Skylar said, "She's my mom," the lady said, "Wow, I never would have guessed that. You look so young." And again, I wondered: Really? Really? I have three little kids that I'm carting around, looking hassled and harried, (but hopefully not hairy!), and I look young enough to be Skylar's sister? Really?! Good gracious, land sakes alive! Should I start wearing a button that says, "No I'm not my daughter's sister. We don't live in that part of the country anymore." Or maybe "I look young because I've had lots of plastic surgery. Don't ask. It's a sensitive subject for me." Or maybe "No, I am not 14! No, I did not have kids when I was 8! Thanks for NOT asking!"

Contest idea: Come up with a button that I should wear to tell people what's up with my age. Bonus points if you can design one for Pete also that lets everyone know that he didn't marry a 10-year-old, he's not my dad, and yes, all the kids are ours (but the 'kids' don't include me!).

Anyway, back on track...

I have pictures, but I still haven't taken them off my camera. So I guess the sharing will have to wait.

Right now we are housesitting for some friends and enjoying our own space. A LOT. But at the same time, in some weird way, we will be ready to go home when we leave here. I know it's odd, but even if sharing space with your mom and little brother is not ideal, it's still our home.

We went to the homeschool convention last weekend, and it was so exciting! We loved looking at all the vendors, and we enjoyed many of the workshops. We even got to hear the governor Jan Brewer and Senator John McCain speak. Wow! We're practically celebrities now.

I guess that's about the best I can do for an update right now. There have been many other funny, disasterous, or just plain weird things that have happened, but for now, let these suffice.

I hope your summers are going well, and I look forward to hearing what's going on with you.

A Weekend To Die For (Although, Hopefully Not Literally, Because Then I Would Miss the Best Weekend of my Life!)

2010-06-17T20:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I am extremely excited to announce the appearance of a little something I like to call "Mommy and Daddy Time". It happens about once a year when the grown-ups arrange babysitters for the kids, clean the whole house, make a whole bunch of food (and then eat some of it and have to make more), draw adventure maps for the kids so they think the weekend is fun and not scary, answer approximately 7,452,635.72 questions (give or take) about where we will be going and what we will be doing, pack swimsuits and sleeping bags and loveys and binkys and extra changes of underwear (for the kids!), just in case, and then....

They run out the door faster than you can say, "Hotel Room with no kids, HERE WE COME!!" (I don't mean YOU can come, even if you do say that. I'm sorry, but I have to put my foot down somewhere, and sharing my alone time is just not something I'm willing to bend on. I hope we can still be friends.)

Can anyone else relate to this syndrome which is now so persistently plaguing Pete and me? I hope you can. It's, like, so awesome to be us right now.

I know it's not politically correct to think your children are the cutest, but seriously. Aren't my children the cutest??

It will be slightly more awesomer (is that possible?) tomorrow when we've actually made it OUT the door. I love being out the door.

What do you have planned for the weekend? Anything exciting?

Silly Quotes and Important Letter (Don't worry, It's Not From Me. You Can Read This One, I Promise.)

2010-06-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

I feel like we should catch up because we haven't really talked much lately. Don't worry. It wasn't you. It was me. No, really.

First, I'd like to catch you up on some funny quotes that have been said around here.

"I brake for pregnant women." --Pete, after almost running over a super cute pregnant chick at Costco.

"It's like a ton of kids lined up for a ride, inside my body." --Skylar, describing how badly she had to go potty.

"I ALREADY DID THAT!!" --Joey, after listening to Pete tell him to go potty before bed three times and trying to work up the courage to tell Pete why he hadn't listened yet. Pete kept telling him to go potty, and Joey just kept standing there. Finally, after Pete threatened disciplinary measures, he started walking away, then turned back toward us, puffed up his chest and yelled that at the top of his lungs. When the kid has something to say...he lets you know it!

"Do you think you can make yourself a blog.....that's as pretty as hers?" --Skylar, after looking at some pictures on Buttercup's blog. Apparently, her blog is prettier than mine. Blast. I always lose that contest.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I have something else important to tell you about. My friend Laura is planning to go on a missions trip to Africa in July, and I asked her if I could post her support letter on my blog. The story of how it came about is incredible, and I am really excited for them to go!! I'll let her tell you all about it below.

From Laura:

Have you ever had God drop something in your lap that made you overwhelmingly excited and scared to death at the same time? If so, I can relate. My reason is probably different than yours though, so let me explain.

Usually, people fall into one of two groups: those who dream of going to a third world country (especially as one being sent representing Jesus Christ), and those who have NO interest in leaving America for an “un-industrialized” country. I’m one of the former; my draw has been to Africa for some time. I figured I would go eventually- on a special anniversary or important birthday. I pictured myself staying in a “nice” hotel, eating at the “safe” restaurants, and taking the “planned” excursions. You know-“nice,” “safe,” and “planned” being the big words there. And then… God got involved.

Last Thursday, June 10, John got an email from a local church. They were seeking someone to teach and train pastors whom had little or no Bible training, but a huge heart to learn. It was for a 10 day trip. To Rwanda. In less than six weeks! Incredulously, it was just about the only 10 day time frame that would fit into John’s busy schedule. The sponsoring church was going to pay his way. I was thrilled about the opportunity for him. Even more so, I was excited about the idea of going with him! There was a chance for me to use my skills as a doula (labor and delivery support person) to help with the birthing women who come to that village specifically to have their babies. Perfect!

Immediately, though, there were challenges to be overcome. What would our church think? What we would we do with the kids? Could I find someone to be with the women I was supposed to be a doula for here? Was it safe? And how ON EARTH would we be able to raise enough funds to cover my trip costs of nearly $4000 in just five weeks??

Just as quickly, God began to open doors. The elders of our church and the congregation were supportive; I found a backup doula for my client; John’s parents offered to take the kids for the entire time; and I found a peace that I’ve never experienced when thinking of the “what ifs” regarding my health and safety. Which only left the fundraising. I simply refuse to believe that God would make such a straight path- providing answers in the most amazing time frame- only to fail to provide the money for us to go to Africa as a couple. Luke 1:38 reminds me that “…nothing is impossible with God.” In comparison to all the fantastic things He’s ever done, it makes fundraising seem like a fairly small thing! Watching the ways He’s already worked, I am excited to watch him work in this area as well.

That being said, would you like to be a part of making the seemingly “impossible,” possible? ANY financial donations will be helpful. Whether you can donate $1, 10, 25, 50 or more… every bit is helpful! You can use it as a tax donation if you make the contribution through our church, West Greenway Bible Church, 5341 W. Greenway Rd, Glendale AZ 85306. Please make checks out to WEST GREENWAY BIBLE CHURCH, with “Laura’s trip” “Africa” or “Rwanda” in the memo line (otherwise it will make it into the general fund. Good for the church, but not so helpful towards my fundraising).

If you are not worried about the receipt, you can give cash or check donations to me directly, or deposit it in my Paypal account (email address: TheCorreias@cox.net). Paypal does not have a fee when the money comes from your Paypal account or bank account. However, there is a 3% fee when you use a credit or debit card, or with Paypal Credit, so please take that into consideration. Please remember to include your name and address with your donation so I can send acknowledgment of your gift. If donors’ generosity exceeds the trip costs, I will use the excess to bring basic necessities (that are unfortunately lacking) to the birthing/medical center I’ll be working with.

Perhaps you have a heart to help, but are unable to do it monetarily. Please consider partnering in prayer with us as we go. We will only be successful with people praying for us! In addition to the money needed to be raised in a short amount of time, there are many logistical hurdles to overcome. If you are interested in praying for us leading up to the trip and/or while we are gone, that would be an amazing blessing. Please email us at TheCorreias@cox.net to get prayer specifics.

Thank you so very much for supporting us in whatever way you find yourself lead- financially, prayerfully, or perhaps you could link this note to your Facebook page or blog... even just in sharing our excitement with us! This experience has truly shown me the magnificence of God in a very real way. I hope that you are able to grow close to Christ in your life, and can be confident knowing He has a plan for your life… even if it includes Africa!

In Christian love,
Laura Correia

Inwa's, Ewoks, and Jabba the Hut

2010-05-31T21:56:00.000-07:00

I really don't like pickles.

Is that going to cause a problem between us?

I hope not.

Anyway, I thought you might also be interested to hear a little bit about my weekend. We drove out to California to celebrate Pete's grandparents' 80th birthdays. The whole family came over for dinner and a hymn-singing one night, then came back over for lunch and games the next day. It was, like, totally rockin', Dude!

At some points, you may not want to be around all of your extended family for an entire weekend with no hope of escaping E-V-E-R.

But I do.

I really really like my in-laws. They're all very quirky and kooky and goofy and sweet and saucy and all kinds of wonderful things like that.

At one point, my father-in-law sang a song about his recent colonoscopy, complete with lyrics such as

Shine, little butt light
Glimmer, glimmer

and

In the end and round the bend

I wish I could remember more from that line because it was stinkin' hilarious. But I can't.

In honor of how much I love in-laws, and because my 2-year old is also goofy and kooky and quirky and...well, you can read the list from above just as easily as I can type it again. Okay, fine. More easily. Now that you've made me look bad...

Oh, right. The story. So my 2-year old asks me to make up songs about random things that he likes or is curious about when he's cuddling with me in the chair in his room before he goes to bed at night. One time he asked for a song about the men at the fire station. One time he asked for a song about the sky being purple. I don't censor his requests, I just acquiesce. It's what any decent, self-respecting mom would do, don't you think? So a little while ago, he asked me to sing a song about how Daddy and Auntie (my sister) are in-laws. I had to have him repeat the direction several times because I just plain couldn't figure out what an inwa was. Once I got it, I asked him how he knew they were in-laws. He said, and I quote, "Sing it, Mama!"

So I did. I just make the songs up as I go along. Sometimes he asks me to sing them again, so occasionally I even remember what I sing. This one has been a favorite for several weeks, so I remember it really well. In light of the weekend with my in-laws, I'd like to share our little song with you.

Daddy is Mommy's husband
And Auntie is Mommy's sister
That makes Daddy Auntie Michal's brother-in-law
And since Auntie's Mommy's sister,
She is Daddy's sister-in-law too!

In-laws are just more family
(Yes, they are!)
We love them, they love us too
(Yes, they do!)
Oh, In-laws are just more family
(Yes, they are!)
We love them...
And they love us too!

Now Mommy has in-laws too
Their names are Mimi and Poppop
And Auntie Karinne and Uncle Benji too
(Doo-Doo-Doo)
More family is better than no family
So even if they're kooky or quacky or crazy or goofy or weird...

In-laws are just more family
(Yes, they are!)
We love them, they love us too
(Yes, they do!)
In-laws are just more family
(Yes, they are!)
We love them...
And they love us too!

We love them...
And they love us too!!

Aren't you amazed with my song-writing abilities? I thought you would be. I'll be glad to sing it for you when you see me next. Ri-bees will probably join in with me and start shouting Yes, they are! at various points in the song.

Once we get unpacked, I'll try to find my camera and show you some pictures from the weekend. Until then, I leave you with another chorus of:

In-laws are just more family

(Yes, they are!)
We love them, they love us too

(Yes, they do!)

In-laws are just more family

(Yes, they are!)

We love them...

And they love us too!

Ha Ha. You so deserved that.

P.S. Any Star Wars references had no actual place in this post, because, as you can see, there was not a thing written about them in here. Sorry for any miscommunication! I hope we can still be friends after this.

Hews' Tues Reviews

2010-05-25T10:16:00.001-07:00

Things I Love:

1. Hats
After seeing sun cancer spots show up on several friends and family members, I have taken an almost Nazi approach to wearing hats outside. Is there sun? Wear a hat! Are there clouds? Wear a hat! You don't want to? I don't care. Wear a hat!

We found these hats for the boys at The Children's Place. They're comfortable, block the sun, and don't look dorky! (You know even though I'm not currently in 5th grade, I'm still extremely concerned about looking dorky.)

2. Banana Boat Ultra-Fine Mist Sunscreen
My life is so much easier now that I just have to spray 'em down. They think it's kind of fun, no one gets it rubbed in his or her eyes, and we don't get sunburned anymore. (Except when I forgot to put it on us the first day we were out in the sun. Oops.)

3. Kitchenaid Mixer
I couldn't live without it. I mean, maybe I could, but I definitely wouldn't want to. There are few things in my kitchen that are absolutely indispensable, but this is without a doubt one of them. It can mix anything, whip anything, knead bread dough (although I'm still a fan of kneading by hand. I love the feeling of dough under my hands!), and it does all of that without breaking a sweat. (You won't have to either!) Mine is candy-apple red, just like this one, and it even adds personality to my kitchen. Can you say the same about your electric hand mixer?!

4. Barefoot Moscato
I know, this isn't a blog about drinking. Generally, it's about poop. But at the end of a day filled with poop and craziness, there are few things that can make it all better like a nice glass of sweet wine. Pete, who is a self-professed non-wine-lover even loves this wine. We buy it at our local Sprouts for about $5 a bottle.

It's not an exhaustive list, but it's a start. Have a wonderful Tuesday, everyone!

You're Not Going To Like This One if You're a Terrorist

2010-05-24T16:32:00.000-07:00

I was reading an article on CNN about Bryant Neal Vinas, an American boy who turned Muslim extremist after a long search for truth. The reporter wrote about his background and his quest for something to believe in that led him to Islam. He later felt compelled to move to Pakistan and join in attempts to attack America. You may remember the uproar when he was captured in 2008 and convicted in 2009 after pleading guilty to the charges against him.

Qayum, a fellow member of the Islamic Thinkers Society (a group based in New York City who promotes political change without violence, according to their website), who was an influence on Vinas' life and decisions, is quoted as saying:

"They [the U.S.] are attacking the Muslim countries for their goods, for their resources and I mean they [the Islamic Thinkers Society] were pretty vocal about it and I liked them for that," Qayyum told CNN. "The evil American empire is not going to last too long, inshallah."

When I read that quote, I felt so many emotions, not the least of which was a grand surge of national pride. Have we forgotten that we love our country? Clearly, Qayum doesn't, but he is Pakistani, so I wouldn't expect him to love America. But the rest of the Thinkers Society? The people with whom we work? Our churches? Our neighbors and friends?

Many people have adopted a cynical attitude toward our country and government. It's almost become cool to bash America in many circles. I understand there are things going on that need to be changed. I understand that there are problems and issues and people's toes or pocketbooks being stepped on. I'm sure I agree with some of what's said in that regard. But on the other hand, we live in America. We live in a country where an interview with a person like Qayum is printed instead of answered with jail time, where the Islamic Thinkers Society has its own website that is able to defame the National Government with no fear of imprisonment or exile.

We live in a land where if we don't like public schools, we can choose to keep our kids out of them. If we don't like pesticides in our produce, we can choose to buy organic. If we don't like our jobs, we can look for new ones. If we don't like our house, we can sell it and buy a new one. (Well, maybe not right now, but at times that has been true.) If we can't pay our debts, we can legally file for bankruptcy instead of being shipped to some random country full of debtors and criminals.

Most of us don't have to worry about whether or not our families would disown us if we converted to another religion. We don't have to worry about being disinherited if we choose a path that's different from the ancient family paths. (In most of our cases, there isn't an ancient family path, anyway.) We don't have to worry about our lives being dictated to us by people who don't care about us but are only looking out for their own good. Some of you are thinking that's exactly what our political system is trying to, or does already, do, but I disagree. They make laws, sure. Some of them we agree with, some of them we don't. But there's always a chance to change the laws they're making at the next election. And even with the new healthcare reform, of which I'm definitely NOT a fan (see how I just said that on the internet and no S.W.A.T. team is coming to my house to take me in, or worse, "make me disappear"), you can choose to pay a fine instead of actually buying the health insurance if that's what you want to do.

My point is this: I think we need a little less bashing, and a little more thankfulness that we live where we live and we can do what we can do. People like the Islamic Thinkers Society could (/should/please do!) move somewhere else that is more suited to their tastes. Calling our country the "evil American empire" is so asinine it's almost laughable. You're only saying that because you can and get away with it, and that's never a good excuse.

We need to put that energy we've used on bashing to try to bring about political change if we feel unsatisfied. Run for office ourselves, get to know our congressmen, VOTE! I read this week that only fifteen million of the 60 million professing born-again Christians vote. Twenty-five percent is piddly! If you're going to complain, do something to be a part of the change.

Maybe you do vote regularly, but you don't feel that your voice makes a difference. I believe that prayer is our strongest and most-effective weapon any time, all the time. Have you spent time on your knees lately for our country? Do you pray for our president and our Congress? It says in many places in the Bible that the Lord is the one who directs our leaders. Even if they do things that are not according to His will, they are still under His power, and He is ultimately in control of our political circumstances.

It may not be popular, but I'm proud to be an American. I'm proud to live here. I respect many other countries around the world and have loved visiting some of them, and would love to visit more (anyone want to fund me on this? Anyone? Anyone?), but I'm always so glad to come home. I don't think that America has to crumble and fall like some are saying it's going to (or has already started to). I think that God is still doing big things here in the country and in many people's hearts, and it ain't over till it's over!

Don't Worry Account Holders, We'll Protect You!! (From Yourselves!)

2010-05-18T17:28:00.000-07:00

Dear ~~Chase Bank~~ Unknown Bank That I Will Not Identify Here,

I know that you want to keep my account information safe and protected. My problem is this: Do you really have to work so hard to keep it safe from...ME?

Yours Truly,
Sweetie

Dear ~~A.L.~~ Unknown SweetSpotJunkie That I Will Not Identify Here, Even By Your Initials,

I know you work for this lovely bank. I hope you won't take offense that today I think they're about as awesome as being dangled from a boat by your toenails into a school of piranhas. Don't worry, it's not directed in any way, shape, or form at you. Also, I hope I don't overly expose you to harmful things by posting on the internet that you work for that bank. Oh wait, I blacked out the names. Phew. That was a close one.

Yours Truly as well (I was only faking on the note to the bank, but I really am yours truly),
Sweetie

It's More Like a List of All That's Wrong in My Life Right Now

2010-05-14T20:11:00.000-07:00

Rules to Live By:

1. When you have the flu but think you're mostly over it, never, and I repeat NEVER, think it will be a good idea to order deluxe chili cheese fries from Del Taco.

2. I don't care how good they sound or how well you think you feel.

3. You are NOT well yet!

4. You will spend the next evening and on into the night seeing those chili cheese fries (deluxe!) forwards, backwards, upwards, inside-out-wards, and you will CURSE the day Del Taco even came up with the idea of chili cheese fries. Much less the deluxe version. They were in way over their heads with that one. Little did they know that people of small self control and bodies that generally handle the flu by bouncing back the next day will one day soon be struck with the virus straight from the pit of...Halifax...and will order them too soon. Too soon, I tell you!

Sigh.

I guess you now know what I was up to last night. Trust me, my lapse in self control will NEVER be repeated.

Anyway.

How are things going for you? Give me an update in the comments section since I fell off the face of the earth and haven't talked to anyone for AGES and AGES.

Love,
C-Diddle

New Room Do

2010-05-12T15:26:00.000-07:00

As you may have heard, we recently purchased a new mattress. A mattress that actually makes me want to go to sleep because it's so comfortable.

Note: I did not say that I am sleeping better, only that it makes me want to go to sleep, which is at least half the battle.

Second note: Why am I not sleeping well lately? Does anyone know the answer to that? I have always slept well. I always took pride in the fact that while other pansies pop pills to fall asleep, my body goes right to sleep when it's time and wakes up rested and refreshed when it's time. (Well, sometimes a little bit after it's time, but close enough.)

Third note: If you take sleeping pills, I will never call you a pansy to your face, I solemnly promise. I will reserve those comments for the anonymity of my blog. What? This thing isn't anonymous? Cheese monkeys.

Fourth note: I like to say cheese monkeys in place of swear words. It usually makes my kids laugh and keeps them from repeating inane things like, "Damn it!" (Have I told you about Skylar saying that the other day? No? Shame on me. That will have to come up in another post!)

Okay, enough notes. Back to the story at hand.

The result of purchasing a new mattress was that we got it for much cheaper than we had budgeted, so we decided to get a new comforter as well. The other result is that since it's been so long since we've made a big decorating decision for ourselves (as opposed to being willing to take anyone and everyone's cast-offs, which is what we normally do), we CAN'T DECIDE WHAT TO GET! So I will leave it to you, my faithful readers to decide for us what our room should look like.

Note: I do not feel obligated to take your decisions if it clashes with what I may really want to do, so be forewarned that your response could mean something, or it could mean nothing. Just so we're all on the same page here.

Enough notes! Here are two that we love most right now. They are both bedspreads because our mattress is much taller than our old mattress, and our old Full/Queen comforter didn't even cover that one all the way. We could get a king-sized comforter, but when we started looking at bedspreads or quilts, we decided we liked those better than comforters anyway. FOR NOW. The way I decorate is to love something intensely for a little while, maybe a few years, then to move on and love something else just as intensely, if not more so.

I think we're all grateful I reserve that attitude for decorating and do NOT apply it to my marriage as well.

Phew. The pictures, if you please, ma'am. No one needs the play by play.

Or...

What do you think? Number 1 or Number 2? Vote now in the comments section, or leave me a link for something similar that could also be of interest. I'm always up for new ideas.

Joey's Funny Question

2010-05-08T08:30:00.000-07:00

Today, Joey asked me if I was going to grow bigger anymore. When I told him that I was all done growing, he got very upset and asked, "Well, why aren't you ever going to be 29?"

"Oh, do you mean, am I going to grow older? Or taller?"

"Yeah, older. Are you going to grow older?" he clarified.

"Yep, I'm still getting older. But I'm not going to get any taller. Just fatter." I ballooned my arms out to the sides to illustrate my point.

Skylar looked at me sharply and said, "It's not polite to call grown-ups fat, Mama."

Zing. From the mouths of babes.

"Well, that's true, but I can call myself fat if I want to," I covered. Must. Never. Let the little ones think I had a breach in etiquette. But then I thought for a minute about what I was teaching them by saying that I was going to get fat, and I changed my tack a little bit.

"Actually, I'm not fat," the words came to me while I was speaking them. "God gave me a beautiful body, and I treat it well every day. I do that to show Him I'm thankful for the body He gave me." It felt so good to say that. I hope to teach my kids that their bodies are not something to look at as gross or weird or awkward but wonderful gifts from God. I guess it helps to start young, before they're struggling with hormonal issues in the teen years. Don't you think?

Tales From the Past: Ice Cream Soup

2010-05-07T17:02:00.000-07:00

When I was little, I loved ice cream.

Okay, fine.

I'm still little...

(See how little I am?)

And I still love ice cream.

My sister and I used to do weird things for no apparent reason when we were little, just because we were cool like that. (Hey, we still are, thank you very much!) There were four kids in my family, two girls, then two boys. We had this girls-against-boys mentality going on whenever we felt threatened, although we fought like cats and dogs often when it was just the two of us.

One of the wonderful tricks we developed was making ice cream soup. Have you ever eaten ice cream that was just too hard to be enjoyable? Have you ever really wished that you could eat a big bowl of ice-cream-flavored soup? Read on for step-by-step instructions, Plus: How to Make Your Little Brothers Feel Incompetent in the Process. (That was pretty much our life's goal back then. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Smarter than my brothers.")

Recipe for Success:
1. Stir your ice cream around with your spoon as fast as you can. This will cause the deliciousness to melt more quickly. Make sure your little brothers know how to do this step.
Note: this will produce a soupy bowl of ice cream, but it should NOT be confused with authentic ice cream soup. This is the ice cream soup of losers.

2. Whenever they're not looking, take a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth (well, they can be looking for that part), swirl the ice cream on your tongue, but DO NOT SWALLOW! This is the crucial step in the process. After it is completely melted by the near 98.6-degree temperature in your mouth, carefully spit it back out on your spoon (this is the part where your brothers can't look), and pour it into your ice cream bowl.

3. Repeat step 1 whenever your brothers are watching, peppering it with comments such as, "Man, yours is just not getting as soupy as mine. You really should stir harder" and "Gosh, you're really not that good at making ice cream soup, are you?" Then, secretly laugh with your partner in crime when they begin furiously stirring their bowls to try to produce the same results you got.

4. Repeat step 2 whenever they're not looking until your ice cream has reached the overall soupiness that you desire. Then, enjoy as a tasty treat!

Not For the Weak Stomachs! Be Forewarned!

2010-05-04T17:29:00.000-07:00

Wondering what I've been up to the last few days?

Here's a little story:

Yesterday, I cleaned puke up off the floor, the walls, my clothes, the toilet (yes, some did make it into the potty), and the basket of clean laundry. It's anyone's guess why the laundry basket was still sitting there and hadn't been put away, but did I mention I was cleaning up a whole bunch of puke?

That's right, friends. Sixteen times my 3-year-old heaved and hurled without letting up, and fourteen times (Pete took over twice at the end once he was home from work), I gently wiped his face, told him he was doing a good job of aiming at the potty (and later the bowl because he was too weak to go to the potty anymore). At one point, having exhausted his energy completely, he tried to let his head drop into the bowl with the puke in it.

At least you could say this about my life, though: My toilet is clean. My bathroom floor is clean. It's never been bleached that many times in its life. You could also say this: When Joey gets sick, he goes big or goes home. He's such an all or nothing kind of kid. I absolutely love that about him. I just would rather it not transfer over to the puking category of his life, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

He's sleeping well now, and the other kids and I are off to the library to pick out books and movies to keep the sicky occupied over the next few days as he recuperates. Pray that his healing comes quickly. The rest of us have all showed some symptoms of the bug, but none are debilitating or extreme. Yet. I'll let you know how that goes. Meantime, stay a good distance away from my house, and take your vitamins. And seriously, turn off the computer and go outside so you get some good fresh air in your lungs. I'm not that interesting to read anyway.

Well, maybe you should just wait to go outside after you read my blog. That's probably the best solution to this problem.

Giveaway Day!!

2010-05-01T23:40:00.000-07:00

The Long-Awaited, the Not-Forgotten, the Most-Amazing-But-Fresh-Out-of-Adjectives WINNERS OF THE SWEET SPOT GIVEAWAY!!

Since I just read entries tonight, I counted you all as being entered in the contest if you commented at all, even if it was late. I'm just so cool like that.

Anyway.

Before anyone commented, I had a couple of numbers in my head to choose winners. I wasn't exactly sure how to choose them "randomly" since I can't really make it random if I read them all. Then I start getting attached to the writer (that's you, in this case, not me getting attached to myself), and I start thinking that THIS should be the winner. It happens with each and every comment I get for contests. So I had a number in my head this time before I started. You aren't going to fully believe me (mostly because I lie all the time, so it's hard to tell when I'm telling the truth), but I was thinking of numbers 1 and 5. I like the number 1. It shows drive, desire, determination (reminds me of a cheer I did way back when...oh, did I never tell you I used to be a cheerleader? That's right, and trust me, I never will). I like number 1.

But I also really like number 5. It shows...less drive, less desire, but still some determination. Also, it's the number of nose hairs that I have, so it's associated with happy things.

If we made it that far, I also like number 7. It's such a good, strong, prime number. It almost makes me want to beat my chest and say, "Ooh-RAH!" like my mom always used to (still does) when she wanted to embarrass me out in public (still works). Anyway, we didn't make it to that many, so I'm off the hook for sending out more coupons.

Also, in this case, SweetSpotJunkies 1 and 5 were from the same family, so I'm just going to go be cheap and send them one gift certificate. I pretty much was only going to send one out anyway. I did toy with the idea of being amazing and sending out way more coupons than I had promised. But then I got to thinking about how many times a month I buy coconut milk, so I decided to keep the rest for myself.

John and Laura, you're the official winners of the Giveaway!! While I'm on the air here, I'll just go ahead and get emotional. Because I'm a girl, and I CAN. So there. John and Laura, you both make a difference in my life every single week. Your commitment to following Christ, loving people, and serving wherever needed is unmatched, and I am so grateful for you! I can't even wait for you to try Coconut Milk because, since you don't have to eat/drink it, you'll probably hate it, but at least you finally won something from my silly blog. And also, it kind of starts to (but doesn't really) make up for when I accidentally forgot to add in John's limerick to the page with all the limericks after the limerick contest. Ooh, I have an idea for a contest. Let's see how many times we can fit the word limerick in a sentence without sacrificing grammatical structure.

Here's the link for the post that forgot John's limerick. Here's the post where he commented (disguised as Minister Malice) and left his limerick like a good little blog buddy but got left out of the glory. Sigh. I guess now we know for sure I'm not perfect.

Alrighty, folks, I need to sign off for this here post is getting worser by the minute. Congratulations to John and Laura, and I'll bring your prize tomorrow to church. If I make it up for church, that is. This post has kept me a little later than I originally intended. Therefore, I'm off to bed.

Most sincerely and sweetly yours,

Sweetie

Giveaway Reminder...Just a Little Blurb. That's All, I Promise

2010-04-30T19:53:00.000-07:00

Don't forget! The Sweet Spot Giveaway ends tonight!

Comment and let us know your favorite post, and you will be entered to win a free Turtle Mountain Dairy Free item (So Delicious Coconut Milk, Yogurt, or Purely Decadent Ice Cream). Yum! Here's to reading and eating with this giveaway--no writing required.

Submit before 10:00 pm PST tonight for your chance to win.

I can't wait to see your favorites!

Wednesday Giveaway

2010-04-28T09:06:00.001-07:00

A little while ago, a friend sent me a link to get a coupon for Coconut Milk online. I was extremely excited to be able to print coupons for what had become a staple in our household. My two sons are allergic to milk; we tried soy milk, but one of my sons also has a soy allergy. We tried rice milk, but it seemed to upset my other son's tummy. In addition, neither of those milks cooked similarly to cow's milk. For a while, I just substituted water in recipes where it called for milk because I could not find a suitable milk substitute. I was frustrated with the way some recipes turned out using water, so we steered clear of many of our family favorites. Then I decided to try goat's milk and coconut milk. I figured it would be better to use real milk instead of always wondering how they milk a rice. How do they milk a rice? I still don't know.

I am happy to say that although I didn't know it at the time, we were making a really good choice for our family in switching to goat and coconut milk.

But back to the coupons. I printed out a couple and took them to the store with me and was pleased with how much they saved me. Then two weeks later, I printed out more coupons and went back, this time trying the Purely Decadent Coconut Milk Ice Cream. My boys could eat ice cream! A week later, I printed out more because we were out of milk again. The next time I tried to print coupons, I had printed my limit! There were no more coupons to be had! I cursed the computer for having a thing called "cookies" that tracked where I was going on the internet. Plus, if they're going to call it "cookies", shouldn't I be able to eat one? I like cookies.

Anyway, not one to accept defeat easily, I found an email address for someone at the company and wrote asking if there was any way way I could get more coupons. I figure you never know until you try, right?

I was in luck. Turtle Mountain (the parent company)'s Marketing Manager responded shortly after asking for my address so he could mail some coupons to me. I was so thrilled! In return, I am writing a story about the products on The Sweet Spot. Seems like a fair trade, no?

While I work on the story, we are going to have a Giveaway on The Sweet Spot. They sent me a couple of VIP Coupons which are good for a free product, no minimum purchase necessary. That means you can walk into the store, grab a container of Purely Decadent Ice Cream, and walk out without ever paying a cent. (You might want to make a stop at the cashier, though, and hand off the coupon. Just so we keep things on the up-and-up, you know. Also, I think you have to pay the tax, so you might really have to pay a couple of cents, but it won't be much, is my point.)

This giveaway is different from my regular contests: no writing assignment, no poetry (I'm mildly bummed about that). I wanted anyone and everyone to have a chance to enter and win, and I know for some people, writing just isn't their thing. Reading is a lot more their thing. And eating.

Therefore, for this giveaway, all you need to do is comment on which Sweet Spot story has been your ultimate favorite. Look back through the archives if you need to, talk to your friends, and figure out which post you thought was the best. Leave me a comment, and I will randomly choose a winner to receive a VIP coupon good for any Turtle Mountain Dairy Free product. (They also have soy products if coconut isn't your thing.)

Leave your comment before this Friday, April 30 at 10:00 pm PST for your chance to win!

Peace and Bees, A Love Song (Not Really)

2010-04-26T17:08:00.000-07:00

Today was a big day. It was a day for action. (No, not that kind of action, but thanks for asking.)

I have been putting off a big decision for a little while because I was just so afraid of what would happen if I went through with it. I mean, for real. The fear was tantamount to what you feel when the bully walks by at lunchtime eying your sandwich.

However, I knew it was the right decision to make, and what can you do? If it's right, it's right. In the past few weeks, I have implemented parts of the big decision but refused to give in to it fully, hook, line, and sinker. Kind of dumb, huh? If you know it's right, don't you do it? Except for when you don't, of course. But I mean, I talk about things like I'm all a big shot for doing the right thing, and here I've been putting off this decision for weeks, trying to drag the covers back up over my head and hide from it.

Speaking of hiding and being afraid of things, who knows how afraid of bees I am? Seriously, do you know how afraid of bees I am? Mortally terrified and perennially petrified and incessantly mortified. (I just love good vocab words. I double-dog, triple-hog dare you to use all of those in a sentence this week.) So today when I was getting out of the car bringing FREE Chik-Fil-A Chicken Sandwiches to Pete for lunch, a BEE landed ON MY SHIRT! It's so crazy, I have to yell it at you. Pete said, "Don't freak out," in this voice that I knew meant, "CHRISTIE!! THE BEE IS ON YOUR SHIRT!! ABORT MISSION!! RUN FOR THE HILLS SCREAMING LIKE A MADWOMAN!! ABORT!! ABORT!!"

Oh boy. Where did I put my paper bag?

But do you know what I did? I stood really, really still. I told myself to breathe normally and NOT to freak out.

"Is it on me?" I asked calmly.

"Yes. Don't move," he answered, and waved near my shirt. I heard buzzing. My eyes threatened to go black. (Just kidding.) (Not really.) Then he said, "Go!" with so much urgency that I dropped what I was holding and went. "Walk away," he commanded sternly, and I obeyed without a backward glance.

Phew. I sure am glad I have my hubby around to save me from certain and sudden and even immeeeediate. Death. (Robin Hood, anyone? Disney version? Anyone??)

So back to the decision. I finally made it. I finished it. And somehow, my whole life feels more at peace. That's what I was thinking today. Then I looked at the 42.7 loads of laundry piled all over the house. And the peace...well, it's kind of there, but kind of buried. Under all the laundry.

Dear God, could you please invent the technology to do laundry in its entirety by voice commands? My cell phone has this technology. Can't you borrow from them?

Yours Truly,

Sweetie

Just a Quiche Little Tidbit

2010-04-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

Here's the update:

Our house didn't sell at the auction.

Is anyone else as frustrated as we are about the situation?

Right. Probably not.

When I called in yesterday to "check the status," I was told I must have gotten my facts wrong because the sale date is set for May 6. I told her....so not what I really wanted to tell her. It went better for both of us.

Anyway, now you know. I'm off to make the pizza and watch a movie with my family.

Tonight's Pick: Horton Hears A Who.

The Weekender

2010-04-23T10:17:00.002-07:00

A list worthy of a weekend coming up:

1. It's freezing cold here.* This morning I went into Riley's room to get him up, and he was sitting there with Stripey (most beloved blankie) wrapped all the way around his head, shoulders, and arms. Instead of saying, "Mommy! Get me up!" like he normally does, he said, "I'm freezing. I'm poopy too." Which, as you know, is a dangerous combination.

2. I got called for Jury Duty. For the first time in my entire life. Well, I got called one other time right before we moved to San Diego several years ago, and the date for which they called me was after we would have been gone. I sent my reply stating that; they sent back a letter saying they "rejected my reason for cancellation". I sent back another letter telling them I rejected their rejection and that I would be in San Diego at that point. They were welcome to track me down there. They never called me again. I started to think maybe I really hurt their feelings. The thing is, I have always been D Y I N G to sit on a jury; I know so many people who are so grumpy about it, and they get called every other week. But me? Never. Anyway, I got a summons for June 11, and I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. I'm hoping for a murder case.

3. Our house went to auction yesterday. I haven't heard if it sold or not, but when I spoke with the lady yesterday morning, she said it was definitely going. I handled it pretty well until about dinner time yesterday, when I just started crying. Eating delicious lasagna, crying at the table. Bite. Cry. Bite. Cry. Bite. Wait, what did I just put in my mouth? Sort of like that. A glass of wine, watching Julie and Julia and talking to Pete about it helped. I'm only a little bit sad about the house (we've already really said our goodbyes), but more in that place where I can't see anything on the horizon, so that means I'm going to be here until something else pretty major changes. I do, however, feel peaceful about it.

4. Yesterday morning, I woke up and decided I needed to make a video for ABC Extreme Home Makeover about why we deserved to have them build us a house and how they are our only hope. Then I realized that was an idiotic thought for a few reasons: a) I don't want a huge house, and they always build huge houses, b) We couldn't afford to pay the utilities on the huge house, c) Where would they build it? We don't exactly have some land that we're just sitting on and not using, and finally, d) ABC isn't my only hope, GOD is my only hope. That cleared things right up for me.

5. I am taking Joey to the allergist today for his scratch test. I am so relieved to finally go in. We weren't able to give him his anti-histamine for the last 6 days, so he feels lousy! We will hopefully get some real results that do not include: Your son has no allergies that we can find or There is nothing we can do for you. I know I'm asking for a miracle here. I put on my super-girl socks so I can be prepared to be a bull-dog if necessary. Yes, the socks really help.

6. I burned my toast this morning, and I had already given the rest of the bread to the kids, and there is no more bread! I need to make another loaf so I can have some breakfast. Or I suppose I could just go make myself an egg. But I'm so in the mood for my favorite breakfast: toast with cream cheese and blackberries and raspberries on top.

7. I made a video of Riley saying my favorite words that he says. I have a feeling you'll love it too.

*Note: I am not complaining, just stating facts. I had already gotten everyone's jackets taken down off the hooks, pants piled up to be packed away, and socks lost forever. I had to go back and re-find all of those things again. Except the socks. They really are lost forever.

Why Can't I Think of a Creative Title? Oh Well, This Will Have to Do

2010-04-22T12:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Makers of Cranium Pop5,

Next time you make a game, would you please put less cards in it and therefore less things for my kids to get into? Also could you lower the amount of chips one needs to win so you could put less chips in the box? Also, could you put the play-doh in a steel container with an unbreakable lock?

After picking the game up 3 times off my kids' floor and seeing the purple play-doh in a desiccated clump, I feel like your game is just too cluttered. I think you need to be set free from your addiction to "stuff", and I am just the person to help you with that! I offer you these suggestions to help you find inner peace as you conform to a pattern of using less, needing less, providing less, therefore eating less.

Wait, that just slipped in there.

To recap:
1. Put less cards in your box
2. Put less chips in your box
3. Put the play-doh in a steel container with unbreakable lock
4. Find inner peace

Actually, scratch that. Now that I've seen all of the cards 3 times, I will undoubtedly win the next time we play this game. I suppose I should be thanking you instead. Very well, then, thank you for enticing my kids to dump out the cards so that I could pick them up (3 times) and hopefully win the game.

I am so much obliged.

My other suggestions still remain.

Yours sincerely,
Sweetie

Roger, Captain, We Are Go For Launch. Over.

2010-04-21T14:48:00.000-07:00

The other day it came about that it was afternoon time. My go-lay-down-and-be-quiet-so-Mommy-can-rest-time. My please-stop-screaming-at-each-other-for-just-five-minutes-so-I-don't-go-crazy time. My sob-sob-why-does-the-world-hate-me time. This particular day, I didn't feel emotionally stable enough to deal with the crying, the screaming, the hitting, the She-stole-my-book-first!-ing.

So I sent them outside. Fresh air always does a body good, right?

Breathing a sigh of relief at the quiet in the house, I sat at the computer and began typing away on my blog and refused to turn around for anything including, but not limited to:

1. Joey screaming at the top of his lungs.
2. Skylar saying, "Joey, you shouldn't be doing that, that's dangerous."
3. Joey calming down.
4. Skylar saying, "Joey, don't be such a baby! Just try it!"
5. Joey screaming again.
6. Skylar saying, "Joey, I knew you were a baby, and now you've showed me that you are! Just try it one more time!"
7. Joey screaming at the top of his lungs again.
8. Skylar saying, "No, don't go tell Mommy, Joey. Joey! Jooo-weeeeeyyyy!! I told you, don't go tell Mommy! Get back over here!"

At this point, I figured I might just have to turn around. Then I decided I wouldn't do it. They're kids. Let them kill themselves if they want to. What do I care? Can't I get a rest during the day? Don't I work hard enough that I qualify for Rest Time? Well, don't I?

Okay, I see your point.

So I turned around. I went outside. I found Joey laying down beside the slide, screaming. Skylar had retreated to the patio when she saw me get up from the computer.

Me: [Calmly] What happened?

Skylar: I told him not to do it.

Me: [ignoring Skylar, facing Joey] What happened?

Joey: Uh....I was riding the airplane down the slide, and I fell off.

Me: [gazing bewilderedly at my 3 year old] The airplane?

Joey: Yeah.

Me: Down the slide?

Joey: Yeah.

Me: Did you think that was a good idea?

Joey: Yeah. Only I got hurt.

Yes, SweetSpot Readers, Joey was trying to ride on Riley's airplane.

It looks a lot like this one.

Down the slide.

And although Skylar had the sense to at first steer him away from it, she quickly got over that and was encouraging him to do it again.

And then said she had no part in it when I came out.

I can't even begin to tell you all that's wrong with that picture.

Needless to say, TODAY, the kids are in their beds and have been told they are not allowed to play with/talk to/LOOK AT each other. After all, I think we need a tiny break, wouldn't you agree?

Inspiration Comes In All Shapes and Sizes...Hey, I See One That Looks Like Poop Over There!

2010-04-20T06:30:00.001-07:00

Do you love poetry? Well, maybe not all poetry. Some is boring. Some is dull. And some leaves you wondering, "Uh, what just happened?" But then sometimes, you come across a poem that just zings you right in your hind-quarters, and you think: A) Why can't I write poetry like that?, and B) Who was reading my journal this time?

Okay, maybe you don't think those thoughts exactly, but that's usually what I think. So I came across this poem. I love it. Enough said.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver
Do you have a favorite poem or piece of prose that you love to read, that inspires you? I would love to hear it.

We All Have to Go Sometime

2010-04-19T10:33:00.001-07:00

This week has been a tad bit crazy, you might say. A might crazy tad, you bit say. Don't worry, folks. That was for free. Here at the Sweet Spot, there's no extra charge for awesomeness. Or attractiveness. Just so you know.

Anyway.

My week started fairly normally, as far as weeks go. And by that I mean, not normal at all. On Sunday, I had something happen that was most disturbing. Then on Monday, it happened again. Then I got so dizzy I couldn't stand up, and my stomach hurt real bad. (Napolean Dynamite anyone? Anyone? Fine, just me, then.) By the time Pete came home, I was curled up in the fetal position on our bed. He thought I was faking for a second, so I could get out of cooking dinner for all of the children that don't ever seem to leave my house.

Oh wait, that's because they're my children.

Right.

So he asked me what was wrong, and I told him. Bear in mind that I am not going to give you all of my symptoms on this blog because, really, it grosses me out to think about them.

But Pete called a friend of ours who is in nursing school and asked her if this was anything to worry about, and she said:

"Pete, you need to take her in! Those are the symptoms of internal bleeding!"

And he said:

"Well, she doesn't have insurance, so I kind of don't want to take her in. I guess we'll see."

Before you get all huffy about that statement, you should know that I really didn't want to go in either. We just got our tax refund in the mail, and I'd personally rather not spend all of it at the emergency room. Especially since we already spent some of it buying the mattress of our dreams. Which, by the way, is just as amazing as I thought it would be, and I'm simply thrilled that we got it.

But I digress.

So we went to sleep.

Or tried to, anyway.

We kept rolling over into each other, and Pete would ask:

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

And I would answer:

"I just keep thinking if I fall asleep, I won't wake up. What if I really am bleeding, and I just die in the middle of the night because I was too stupid and too cheap to go in to the doctor when I had the chance?"

We both did eventually fall asleep, and I did not die in my sleep, thank you very much. I am just so talented. But the next morning when I woke up, my right arm was numb. I thought to myself in my sleep-dazed state, "That's because you were sleeping on it, silly!" So I rolled over.

Onto my right arm.

That was when I realized that I had been sleeping on my left side and not in any kind of an awkward way that should have induced my other arm to fall asleep.

Therefore, Pete took me to the hospital.

I whispered my symptoms to the lady at the desk, because, really, they are embarrassing. She looked at me with raised eyebrows. They always look at you with raised eyebrows when it's something really serious. Or maybe her eyebrows just don't go down anymore. After all, she does work in an ER, and pretty much everyone who comes in has something really serious. Except for the ones who don't. Which are probably more than half of them.

They put me right back in a room and told me they would get my IV going. To which I replied, "Don't you stick your needles in me, Woman!" (Actually, it was a lot more polite than that and was mostly phrased as a question if I could opt out of the IV since I don't have insurance and don't want to pay for more than I need.)

So the nurse left, and the doctor came in and spoke with me. When she heard my symptoms, she agreed that it sounded like internal bleeding. When she did an exam, she agreed that it looked like internal bleeding. She left to go test and make sure.

So there I was, lying on the bed, thinking about how my time was really about to be up, and Pete was saying how it was so nice that he had the day off of work to finish his paper for the Master's program that he's in, and I was thinking about how I would need emergency surgery to find the spot that was bleeding, and how they might not be able to find it, and then I would be in Heaven, and Good Gracious! who would take care of my kids, and Pete was saying how he was pretty sure his diagnosis was correct for his paper (he's in the counseling program, and they had to diagnose a crazy person by her symptoms and write a paper on it), then he said he was so thankful that he got to have a little date with me, as our together-time has been sadly scarce lately, and then the doctor walked back in.

First, she said: "I really thought it was, but the test showed up negative."

And then we started talking about diets and allergies and gardening, and how she has broccoli sprouting in her garden, and how I seemed to eat fairly healthy and hadn't downed several bottles of Pepto Bismol (yuck. yuck YUCK!) in the last week, so she didn't quite know what to make of my symptoms. More testing revealed dehydration, and she thought maybe I had a stomach virus that was causing the dehydration, on top of Irritable Bowel Disease. Maybe. But further testing would be needed to be certain. Via a colonoscopy.

Ha Ha. Made you cringe.

Then I drank four cups of water really fast because they said I was dehydrated, and I still didn't want an IV.

Then my dizziness got way worse, and I felt like I was going to pass out and puke all at the same time.

So I asked the nurse: "If I just drank all that water, should my dizziness be worse?"

"Well, if you would have taken the IV, you would be feeling better by now, but since you didn't, it's going to take a while to get your body rehydrated." Her name must have been Barb because I sure felt the sting.

"Sure, but should I get worse when I just had a bunch of water? I can understand not being all the way better, but should I feel like I'm going to pass out right now?"

She looked at my face, quickly assessed the green color that was forming in my cheeks and offered to go get the doctor again. The doctor came back and said I looked like I was going to be sick. I told her I felt like I was going to be sick. She sent over a pill that I think is sent straight from heaven. Zofran. Just before popping it into my mouth so I could feel it's amazing effects, I thought about the price tag. I looked at Pete.

"Are you going to pay for this? This one pill costs $80."

He said, "Sure," so I greedily grabbed it up from the garishly-garbed nurse like a grape-tasting griddlecake, and gradually, my grimace faded into a grin.

Then she brought me another pill for Vertigo, which she thought I must have since my dizziness wasn't getting any better with the water. Then we went home.

The End

Just kidding. Are my stories ever truly over?

Over the next few days, my symptoms have gradually lessened, but I am still feeling what I like to call, "like a bucket full of yesterday's toenails." Actually, I haven't ever called it that before, but I will now. I feel like a bucket full of yesterday's toenails. There.

So I went to my chiropractor, and he said maybe a stomach virus and cysts on my various inner girl parts. Don't you feel so happy now that I shared that with you? I thought you would appreciate my candor.

And as I still have no insurance (Yes, they made that law for me. You're welcome. I try to help out wherever I can), I have not done any of the follow-up things that I am supposed to do. Including, but not limited to things I will not even mention because of the high level of dee-scusting-ness. That's how the kids say it at church. "That's dee-scusting!" It makes me feel better to say it that way too.

So am I dying? I'm pretty sure the answer is still along the lines of "Good grief, you Weirdo, quit thinking you're dying all the time!" but I suppose you never can be too sure, can you?

Because I Love You So So Much: The Fairy Tale Part 8

2010-04-08T06:30:00.000-07:00

Where did we leave off last time? Oh yes. I was holding the pregnancy test in my hand. I was looking down. I had just seen the pink line that meant the test worked. But was there a blue line?

No. There was no blue line. I stared harder at the test. Maybe I could just make it out if I stared really really hard. I looked up at Pete, and he shrugged. "I guess you're just acting funny," he said.

I started to cry. "I'm not acting funny!" I insisted. "I thought I was pregnant!" I started to cry harder.

He looked at me, bemused. Again, I knew he was wondering what he got himself into.

I threw myself into wedding plans with a frenzy, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was pregnant. After two weeks (and 5 more negative tests), I started to have some sharp pain on one side. I researched possibilities and thought maybe it was an ectopic pregnancy. My accountability partner/friend knew a nurse, so we called her together, and I explained my symptoms.

"I'm really tired all the time. I'm feeling so sick to my stomach that I don't want to eat much of anything. I can't make it through the night without getting up to use the bathroom (something I avoid on basic principle), and I just feel funny in my abdomen. It's like a heavy feeling. And now I'm having this pain in my side. Do you think it could be an ectopic pregnancy?"

She agreed that my symptoms could indicate that and recommended that I go to a clinic and get checked out. (I didn't have health insurance at the time. Similar to right now.) Pete and I planned a time to go to the clinic, and drove almost an hour to get to one that was supposed to be cheap. We held hands in the waiting room as I replayed my symptoms for him again. Finally they called me back, and the doctor examined me.

"Well?" we asked when she had finished.

"Nope. Not pregnant," she responded.

I started to cry again. I didn't know why I was crying--it wasn't like I had particularly been wanting to get pregnant. I had just started to get attached to the idea of being pregnant, I guess. "Then why do I feel like this?" I blubbered.

"Well, you have a bladder infection. And I think the other part is that you're thinking about being pregnant so much that you think you are pregnant. But you're not."

"So why am I two weeks late? I'm never late."

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes bodies do funny things."

"Okay, but you're sure that I'm not pregnant?"

"Absolutely."

"How sure?" I don't know why I kept pressing, but I wanted to be really, really certain that she was right.

"Oh, you know, I'm at least pretty sure. But if you still haven't had a regular cycle in two weeks, call me back."

I walked out thinking that after she spent so much time convincing me that I wasn't pregnant, she didn't sound that sure in the end. I told this to Pete, and he agreed. "She was kind of a moron," he added, and we both laughed.

Over the next week, I bought 10 (read: TEN) more pregnancy tests, and took every single one of them. They all said the same thing: Negative. Not pregnant. No baby for you.

I just couldn't convince my body that it wasn't. I missed many days of work because I was so sick I couldn't stand up without needing to go puke. I couldn't stand the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, I couldn't sit in a restaurant with onions or garlic, I couldn't walk through a grocery store where they had a fish counter. I was just S-I-C-K. The pain in my side subsided with the antibiotics that I took for the bladder infection, but I didn't really feel any better.

After that first week, I stopped buying tests. (Has anyone ever bought 15 pregnancy tests in a month? It's not so easy on the pocketbook.) I decided that maybe they just don't work for some people's bodies, and I would have to wait until I was super fat and munching on pickles and ice cream. Then people would believe me.

A lady at work brought in a pregnancy test for me because I said I didn't have one at home (umm, it's true, I didn't...because I had USED THEM ALL), and everyone at work wanted to know whether I was or wasn't. I took that test at work, and I thought I could just barely make out a line that probably wasn't there. I told everyone it was positive, and they congratulated me heartily.

On October 25, a small fire started in the forest near San Diego. By the next day, it had spread to the city, and major areas of the city were being evacuated. We had many friends from our college who didn't have family in town, and we offered to go pick them up and bring them to "my" apartment. The college was on the east side, which was being hit harder with the fire, and that's where Pete's apartment was too. It made sense that he would be staying with me too since he should have been evacuated from his home. When we went to pick them all up, they were having an assembly in the cafeteria about how they had made the school a "safe place", and they were sheltering horses from other areas that were being evacuated. We had been listening to the news on the way over to the school and heard how the fires were spreading very fast, and we scoffed at the school chancellor (not to his face, of course, but more behind his back). He hoped to make the fire go away just by wishing, but we knew it wasn't going to happen. We talked with our friends, and they all opted to stay if there was no immediate danger. Not less than 5 minutes later, the chancellor stood up again and said, "Change of plans, kids. We need to evacuate now. Don't go back for your stuff, just get out to somewhere safe now."

When we walked outside, we could see the fire burning down the mountain behind the school. I have no idea where they took the horses, but we picked up all the stragglers we could find and took them to our apartment in Old Town (on the West Side of the city, near the water). There were 9 people who stayed in our (less than) 400 square-foot studio apartment. We kept the trunks of our cars packed with photo albums, blankets, and any non-perishable food we could find in the event we all got evacuated and had to go sleep on the beach (I was excited about that possibility, you know I was).

Pete and Donivan (our accountability partner) stayed up late watching the news to see whether the fire was going to reach us, but by morning, it had changed direction again, and we weren't going to be hit. Donivan called the information line to ask about our college, to see if it was still standing. The lady on the other end of the line said it had "burned to the ground." We had brought a few younger girls with us, and they began to cry as they thought of all the stuff they had been told not to go back for. We all wondered if everyone had made it out safely.

The ash outside was so thick, it was similar to a heavy snowfall. Flakes fell all over our hair, our cars, our clothes. We looked up into a hazy-orange sky, lit by a blood-red sun. The mayor asked everyone to stay home from work to allow the rescue teams free access to the roads, so I didn't go to work even though I had been scheduled at 9:00 am. However, the bank called at 11:00 and said they were closing for the day so not to bother coming in.

"Coming in? I can't get through. The roads are all closed. The fire is still burning on the freeway I take to work. And the mayor asked everyone to close for the day."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that we're closing, so don't come in."

Okay. Point taken, People.

The masses slowly began to leave our apartment as they found other arrangements. We heard from someone who had been at the campus of our college that he had been made to stay and load up all of the church's high-priced sound equipment in his car while the *important* people left the building. He was there when the fire touched the edges of the campus, but he watched it die almost as soon as it licked the upper regions of the field. The campus was completely intact, although the air quality was extremely poor. They kept it closed for a week and did not pay that man a bonus for risking his life for the. sound. equipment. Remind me to tell you my rant of all that's wrong with churches these days. It starts here.

Anyway, the woman at the information line apparently received bad information, which in that case, worked out decidedly in our favor. We decided to evacuate to some long-time family friends who lived farther north and had less trouble with the air being similar to standing inside a campfire for a few days. It was healing to be with them, and they took care of us after we had spent ourselves trying to take care of everyone else we knew.

My mom called before we left and asked where everyone was going. I gave her the run-down of where people were going, and she digested the news. "And Pete?" she asked pointedly. "Where is he going?"

My rebellious nature kicked in. "He's staying here," I said firmly (even though we were going up north to be well-chaperoned by people she approved of. I was finally ready for the scales to come off).

Her voice turned shrill. "Christie," she sighed. "You can't do that. You CANNOT do that!"

"Do what, Mom?" My patience was worn thin by the pregnancy issue, the fire, and the time spent covering up the best thing in my life. "We're married, Mom. We eloped three months ago."

Suddenly, the fire jumped all the way over to Phoenix and came through loud and clear on the phone lines. I (read that part about the rebellious nature again), in all my new-found independentness, told her firmly that I would not listen to her yell at me and hung up the phone. Pete and I looked at each other for a long moment, and then we began to laugh. We laughed and laughed, not stopping until tears were coming out of our eyes. What a wild few months!

When we came back into town a few days later, it crossed my mind that I still hadn't had my regular cycle. My benefits through work had kicked in, and I was able to go see a real doctor. I had already made an appointment for that week to discuss birth control options before the wedding, partly because I wanted to know what the options were, and partly to keep up appearances of not being married.

The appointment was on October 30, more than a month after I had first suspected pregnancy and four days after the fire had torn our city apart. I sat in the doctor's office and poured my heart out to the nurse about eloping before our wedding, thinking I was pregnant, the clinic, the bladder infection, the "one" negative pregnancy test I had taken at home*, skipping two cycles, and how I knew my mom was going to kill me if I was pregnant. She listened in wide-eyed wonder as I shared my tale and then suggested we test again. She did the test right in front of me, and I watched as the test immediately went straight to a strong, dark, blue line. No hesitating, no pansy-footing around.

"Well, you're definitely pregnant," she said. "Congratulations!"

I started crying. "I knew it!!"

She proceeded to tell me that a bladder infection is one of the most common reasons for a false negative. Apparently the clinic doctor didn't know that. She was encouraging when she saw the fear come back into my eyes when I knew we would now have to tell everyone we eloped. I mean, we would have to. She rubbed my back gently and said, "I'm sure it will all work out. Everyone loves babies."

October 30 was 2 weeks before our wedding was scheduled. Count 'em carefully: Two. That's not a whole lot of time for people to find out you've been lying to them for the past several months. It's not a whole lot of time for my mom to call off the wedding, send my (gorgeous) dress back, cancel everything, and yell at everyone in sight. Now, more than ever, we wondered what in the heck we were thinking when we thought it would be really funny to pull one over on everyone and say, "Ha! You never knew we were married 4 months before our wedding! We duped you all!" We were kicking ourselves for our rash decisions and wondering if there was a magic easy button that would get us out of the fallout.

Next Time: We All Have to Grow Up Sometime. (And P.S. I'm still looking for the magic easy button. "Hello, Staples? Do you sell those? In bulk?")

* Do you get the idea that I lied a lot back then? 'Cause, umm, you'd be right. It just kills me to look back at that, but at the time it seemed so normal. Yikes. I needed therapy. And healing. And honesty. Like nobody's business!

2010-04-07T06:30:00.033-07:00

Most days, I really miss my house. I miss being cozily tucked away with a little yard and a falling-over mailbox.

But then some days I change my mind and think I never want to go back to broken water pipes, a leaky roof, stray cats dying in our yard, bees making a hive in our tree, and multiple unfinished projects waiting to have full attention.

Then the next day, I start thinking about how much I love our house and want to go back.

Why do I go back and forth so much? I blame 73% of it on being a girl and having a couple of little things I like to call hormones. The other 27% I blame on being 5'2". I'm just a short person living in a tall man's world.

Back to the issue at hand. Today, I just want to go home. Tomorrow? I'll probably want a new house with no (i.e., less) problems. I guess that's just the way it has to be for now.

Easter Drama and Comedy

2010-04-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

Easter is pretty much my favorite holiday. Except for maybe Thanksgiving. I just love all the food and the feeling of being stuffed to the hilt, the crisp air, the fall colors (unless you happen to live in Phoenix, which, oh wait, I do).

Anyway, back to Easter. We had such a fabulous weekend with our family and friends, enjoying good food, laughter, and the blessing of kids who have eaten some sugar within the last few hours.

My favorite part of Easter this year was church on Sunday morning.

Other parts to highlight include some fairly impressive digestive problems experienced by Riley and me (my T.R.E.* just didn't know how to handle life), Joey eating a candy (bad, bad, bad!), friends visiting from San Diego that we haven't seen in a while and whom we love dearly, sneaking away to go mattress shopping and finding the mattress of our DREAMS, eating homemade German Sausage that was amazing, and chopping all of my hair off (but in a good way. I think.).

My second favorite part was this quote from my father-in-law, whom the kids call Poppop.

"This could just as easily be a description of Poppop."

My mother-in-law leaned over, saw what he meant and said, "Oh yeah, 100% natural, thin buns."

And with that, SweetSpotSweetie is signing off, saying I-hope-you-had-as-happy-of-an-Easter-as-I-did-and-I-hope-your-father-in-law-cracks-you-up-as-much-as-mine-does.

* In other words, my Trusty Rear End. For more information about my TRE, click here and here.

Fresh and Easy...In my House

2010-04-01T12:28:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was in the mood for something easy and fresh. Since my boys are allergic to basically everything, "easy" doesn't mean pull it out of the freezer and put it in the oven. It usually means only 30 minutes on my feet in the kitchen instead of 2 hours. However, the food is so worth it that I don't mind cooking for at least as long as I used to watch TV in a day. I thought I would share our dinner from last night in case you want something easy and fresh for your household too.

Spring Pasta

Ingredients:

4 chicken breasts

Salt and Pepper and/or herbs to season chicken

1/2 bag Rotini Rice Pasta

1 lemon, cut in half for juicing

1-2 bell peppers

4 cloves fresh garlic

1 roma tomato

Fresh spinach leaves

6 mushrooms, sliced

Olive Oil

1/2 cup coconut milk (or cream)*

Goat cheese crumbles

*optional

1. I started by poaching boneless, skinless chicken breasts (I almost never buy them already boned and skinned anymore, but for this dish it worked well) in a cast iron casserole dish. Lay the chicken breasts in a thin layer of olive oil and season lightly (salt and pepper, various fresh or dried herbs). Squeeze the juice of 1/2 lemon over chicken. Cover with wax paper, and put the lid of the casserole on tightly. Poach in a 400 degree oven for about 30 minutes, depending on the thickness of the chicken.

2. Cook enough pasta for your family. We used rice pasta last night because I'm a fan of rice pasta. It's yummy, and it gives us a chance to mix up our grains. You may just as easily use regular wheat pasta (I recommend whole wheat) if you want to. Cook until tender, then drain. If using rice pasta, you will probably want to rinse it since it has a little bit of scum that comes off when cooked.

3. Sautee red bell peppers (or any color mixture) over medium to medium-high heat with freshly chopped garlic cloves and a roma tomato in a small amount of olive oil. I use the cast iron skillet (not the same pan as the casserole pan my chicken is cooking in) for this because it adds so much flavor to the peppers. I usually throw the tomato in after sauteeing the peppers and garlic for about 10 minutes so it doesn't completely disappear by the time the peppers are soft. Cook for about 20-25 minutes total, until peppers are soft and beginning to brown.

4. Remove chicken from the casserole dish when it is cooked through. Put casserole on the stove with all the juices still inside. Throw in some sliced mushrooms, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Add in 1/2 cup coconut milk (or cream if you use cream) and boil for a few minutes. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into sauce and cook for another 2-3 minutes. While you are cooking the sauce, cut the chicken into large chunks or slices.

5. Combine pasta and peppers, chunks of chicken, and fresh spinach leaves. Top with mushroom sauce and goat cheese crumbles. Enjoy hot or cool; it's delicious either way.

A Fairy Tale Part 7

2010-03-31T09:57:00.000-07:00

It has been a really long time.

I apologize for that. The fault is mostly mine.

The other part of the fault belongs to the crazy minions that dance in my head causing me to forget EVERYTHING that I want/try to do in a day except:

1. Eat.

2. Sleep. Sometimes.

3. Paint rainbows on all my furniture.

4. Throw rocks at passing cars.

When I was a kid, we used to go outside and point a hairdryer at passing cars so they would think it was a police radar and get all freaked out that they were going to be arrested for speeding. That's the way we thought it worked when we were kids.

5. Change a bunch of poopy diapers and clean up poop from various parts of the house where you really would not expect poop to be. It's just that boys sometimes have different ideas about where these things should and shouldn't be.

Anyway, all of that to say that I haven't written the next part of A Fairy Tale for at least 7.9438 millenia in goldfish years (roughly translated as 4 months). It is high time for the next installment!

We began to get in a routine of Pete sleeping at my apartment but leaving his stuff at his old apartment (a spider-infested garage) to keep up the appearance of not being married. As far as we can tell, no one caught on. There were a few people who received insider information--one because Karinne accidentally leaked the information, the other because we decided to tell our accountability partners after they were surprised when we said we were doing really well. They couldn't figure out how we were doing "really well" a few months before the wedding, so we let them in on the secret.

I worked at my new job as a Teller at Bank of America, and Pete began a new job at SDG&E, San Diego's Power Company. He felt so important working in a real office for a real paycheck.

We fought a lot about how things should be done. Our most major (knock-down/drag-out) fights in the beginning were:

1. I don't think you really like me. (This one came from me.)
2. You should do all of my laundry. (That was from Pete.)
3. You load the dishwasher wrong. (That was from both of us.)

I had really wanted to do all of his laundry, but I wasn't prepared for the amount of laundry to triple over what I had been doing for just me. And I figured, hey, we're both working full time. We can share the load. Literally. Pete didn't agree with me in the beginning, but I think he's starting to catch on now.

About two and a half months after Hawaii, I stayed home from work feeling really, really sick. "I must have a bad case of the flu," I thought. I was folding laundry, watching the Country Music channel, and the music video for Martina McBride's "Concrete Angel" came on. I began to cry. Really hard.

It's just so horrible that these things happen in the world, I cried. God, where are you when children are being abused? Why don't you step in and stop it? Why don't you squash those mean people who do mean things to little kids?!

The song ended, and I collected myself. Wow, that was an overreaction. Maybe. Just a little bit.

On our next date, Pete took me to see Secondhand Lions in the theater. It was such a good movie, but there is a part where the little boy is being abandoned by his mother. I began to bawl again. Big, heaving sobs right there in the middle of the movie theater. I looked like an idiot. I sounded like an idiot. It was so embarrassing. Pete was beginning to wonder what he had gotten himself into.

When we were laying in bed that night, Pete put his arm around me, and the smell of his deodorant hit me in the face like a sharp jab. "Oh, honey, you have to put your arm down. I can't handle the smell of your deodorant!" Harsh words for a newly-married-still-figuring-out-if-you-really-like-me couple. He sighed and rolled over, and I knew I had hurt his feelings. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks as I lay there wondering why I was acting like this. I loved him so much. I was so excited to be married to him. I just couldn't handle life right then. Dreamless sleep eventually claimed both of us that night.

The next morning I woke up and just knew. I mean, I knew. No one cries at Concrete Angel. No one cries at Secondhand Lions. Seriously, they don't. I must be pregnant. I have to be.

I had heard that you were supposed to test in the early morning for the best results, so with a bursting bladder, I got up at 6 AM to run to Walgreens and buy a test. I made sure to play with my wedding ring while the cashier was ringing me up, just in case he was wondering why a 12-year-old girl was buying a pregnancy test. At least he would know she was a married 12-year-old girl.

I barely managed to make it home without having an accident (and I'm not talking about cars), but I did. I took the test, set my watch for 3 minutes, and held my breath.

Pete came in to get ready for work and saw what I was doing. He sat silently with my while we waited for the results. I determined not to look at it until the whole 3 minutes were over. Finally, the wait was over! I picked up the test and looked for a pink line. Was there a pink line? There was! Then I remembered that was the test line to say if the test worked. Okay, it had worked. What I needed to know was if there was a blue line. I looked again at the test.

To Be Continued...

The Birthing of A 2-Year-Old Boy (Ouch!)

2010-03-26T11:40:00.002-07:00

Today my big one year old becomes a big two year old. Sigh.

I remember when I was pregnant with him. I was so excited to have another baby but a little worried that I might not be able to handle 3 kids all at the same time. And then we got to meet Riley, and he was the sweetest, most angelic baby I could have ever dreamed up. He loved to cuddle, loved to smile and sing, loved to eat!

Now that he's two, his list of favorite things is pretty much the same. He still loves to cuddle ("Snuggle me, Mama. Snuggle me."), loves to smile ("Cheese! I'm so handsome!"), loves to sing ("BOB the builder! Yes We CAN!"), and he definitely loves to eat! Check out the video below to see just how much. I dare any grown person to try to keep up with Riley's eating. Well, to keep up with him and not have your stomach explode. That would be the true test.

Isn't he so grown up? Sigh. I no longer have any babies.

Please, someone, could I steal your baby for a little while? I just don't know what to do with myself.

Crafty Hair Clips

2010-03-25T07:30:00.004-07:00

For my crafty project today, I decided to make the hair clips that I had been putting off for a while. I started to make them several months ago when we were over at a friend's house. The kids were eating, we were being crafty, and all was going well. Then this happened, and I haven't gone back to making hair clips since. I was kind of thinking if I pulled out the bag of hair-clip-making-project stuff, the same thing would happen again.

Today I finally pulled it out and finished the project.

Sort of.

By that I mean, no project around here is ever completely finished.

Also that I've decided to learn how to crochet so I can crochet her a cute little hat to put some of the other flowers on.

It's kind of like finishing one project and taking the next one to a whole new level. I'm cool like that.

I tried to photograph the fronts and backs of most of them in case you're itching to try it on your own.

Basically, you start with some fake flowers from Hobby Lobby or Michael's or Walmart, and you pull them all apart.

Then you put them back together in a pattern of your choosing, and insert a cute little brad that you purchased from the same craft store in the scrapbooking section.

You will also have purchased hair clips with no design on them and various ribbons in colors that match the fake flowers you bought.

Wrap the ribbon around the hair clip to completely cover any silver. I tried two different kinds of hair clips, and the flat ones definitely work better.

Wrap the ribbon around the inside of the clip, the outside of the clip, and between the middle of the part you will squeeze. It works best if you use all one piece of ribbon so there are no loose edges hanging out.

Hot glue, hot glue, hot glue!

Then hot glue your flower on top. Insert into unsuspecting person's luscious locks, and you've got a hair clip!

(I don't have the backs of these photographed because I couldn't get her to take them out of her hair. Better luck next time.)

Good luck, and Happy Crafting!

P.S. No one's collar bone was broken in the making of these hair clips. It was truly a small (Read: HUGE!) victory for us.

The Other V Place

2010-03-24T14:13:00.000-07:00

I have some delightful Vietnamese piano students that I teach on Tuesday nights. A few weeks ago, I was chatting with one of them about her grandparents. For purposes of anonymity, I'll call her A. The conversation went like this:

A: I just love my grandparents!

Me: That's neat! Grandparents are wonderful, aren't they?

A: Mmm-hmm. Mine are the best! But they live far away and I almost never get to see them.

Me: Oh? Do they still live in Vietnam?

A: Yeah. No. Wait! I think they live in Vir...ginia. Or somewhere like that. I'm not sure.

Me: Oh! [laughing] Well, I guess that's still pretty far away.

There I go, putting my foot in my mouth again. I have no idea if she or any of her family has EVER lived in Vietnam, but I try to make it a habit of saying as many stupid things in a week as possible. That way, I have lots to blog about.

Baby, Don't Drown Your Sorrows in Pool Water

2010-03-22T17:02:00.000-07:00

I have been reading blogs this week about how people are looking for spring. They are folding back the corners of frozen tundra hoping to find fresh blades of grass underneath.

If I ever had corners of frozen tundra, I would fold them back too.

Here, we are already reaching temperatures that beg for tank tops and flip flops, so I am happily obliging. It got me thinking about swimming, and then I realized that I had never shared my story of one of my kids almost drowning 2 years ago. I don't know what I was thinking in not sharing the loveliness with you, so here goes.

It was an exceptionally hot day two years ago, and Pete had just left for a business trip in Oregon. Riley was a few months old, and I was adjusting to having three kids to care for. We were invited to a birthday party for one of the kids' friends, and it was supposed to be a pool party (incidentally, I just typed poop party, which is what most days in my house are, but this one was a pool party). I had called to RSVP that we wouldn't be there because I didn't think I could manage all the kids by myself, but the hostess assured me that there would be plenty of people there to help, so I decided to chance it.

The party itself went well. A lady from our church held Riley while I swam with Joey and Skylar. I started to think that it wasn't such a big deal to have the three of them at the pool by myself, but I was still worried to let Joey out of my sight for even an instant. He was almost 2, and it was before we had figured out any of his allergies, so he was crazy! When I was sufficiently worn out and Riley was getting hungry again, I asked Skylar to get out and dry off. I pulled Joey out and dried him off, loaded Riley up in the stroller, all the while being extremely vigilant to hold onto Joey's hand and block Skylar from getting to the water. I sent Sky to get her clothes on when my friend asked if she could introduce me to a friend of hers. I walked over to where she was sitting beside the pool dragging Joey with me, leaving Riley safely in his stroller and Skylar getting dressed nowhere near the pool. Less than 2 minutes later, I heard James, our 8-year-old friend yell, "Papa!" and I turned to look. I felt more than saw John, James' dad, jump out of his chair and practically fly to where James was. I saw but did not process that James was leaning over the side of the pool holding a hand out of the water. In seconds, John grabbed the hand and heaved a body up out of the water. The body started sputtering, coughing, and crying, and only then did I realize that it was SKYLAR. My heart started racing, and I rushed over to where they were. Kneeling in front of my sopping wet, traumatized 3-year old, I resisted the urge to yell.

This is how big they were that summer.

"What happened?" I asked, but she was sobbing and coughing too much to answer. "What happened?" I repeated to James.

"I don't know. I was walking by and saw her completely under water. So I reached in and grabbed her hand and yelled for Papa." His face was so serious, so grown-up. He didn't know it, but that day he became a hero. He saved Skylar's life by thinking quickly enough to grab her hand and hold on until his dad got there. If he had just pretended that he couldn't see her or hadn't walked by when he did...I shudder to think what could have happened. Thankfully, though, what could have happened isn't what did happen. I thank the Lord Almighty that He was watching out for her even when I wasn't.

And for the record, no amount of There-will-be-plenty-of-adults-there can persuade me to go swimming without specifically attaching my kids to one of them. I may hurt your feelings if you invite me to go swimming with all of my kids and all of your kids, but until they are old enough to know how to safely get to the side (which we worked on last summer and will again this summer), I will have to reject your offer. There's just too much at stake.

2010-03-20T08:20:00.003-07:00

1) There are some people in life who really want to have relationships with others and generally know how to have them. They are comfortable with themselves and with you. They like you and let you know it. You like them and let them know it. You end up with a solid friendship, or are comfortable with being whatever level of friends you might be because you both more or less agree. (I don't care.) This is very refreshing. I like these people a lot.

2) There are other people who really want to have relationships, but their skills aren't quite as good. When they really want to talk to you about something, they may bring up something else instead because they don't know how to accurately diagnose and/or express what's going on inside them. This gets hard if you ever have an issue in that relationship because you can't ever be sure that the issue they bring forward is the real issue underneath. However, you can have a quasi-relationship with them as long as you don't get too close or you find a way to not talk about things that bother you. Not really a winning trait of a relationship, but hey. I don't make the news, I just blog about it.

3) There are still other people who don't seem to much care if they have relationships, or maybe even go so far as to plainly state that they don't want relationships. When I meet these people, I usually start beating them over the head with sticks because, really, if you can't have a relationship, why not just beat them? It makes sense to me.

4) Deep down, I think everyone wants to be #1's. Even the crankypants ones who say they don't want any friends really must on some deeper level. It's ingrained in us, I think, to be a part of families, communities, groups, circles. But we bring our baggage with us, and that makes some of us fall lower down on the scale of relationship skills.

5) Jesus offers healing and relief from that baggage. Do we really need to hold onto it?

6) It may take years before the differences are noticeable. It's worth it.

7) Under which category do you fall?

Puzzling Perfume

2010-03-19T21:18:00.003-07:00

Earlier today, I took Joey to the doctor for a checkup/vent session on how his allergies are really acting up again and no one is listening to me.

The nurse, Joanna*, who took us back was really sweet and bubbly. She asked Joey to step on the scale to see how much he weighed. He was holding on to my finger, so I went with him, and as I stepped closer to her, I caught a waft of body odor. I smiled politely as she stepped back. I could only imagine that she guessed I smelled her and was trying to be polite. I was thinking about how when I was working in the "real" world, forgetting deodorant could be a big deal, especially at certain times of the month, in the summer, when your work's air conditioner was broken. Not that I'm speaking from personal experience.

(Note: We interrupt the regularly scheduled post to bring you this creepy picture. You're welcome.)

Fast forward to tonight as I was getting the kids out of their bath, and I thought I smelled Joanna again. It was just the slightest hint of a body odor, but it smelled exactly the same as it had before. Not taking time to fully think through the consequences of random nurses being in my bathroom, I finished the routine of getting the kids in bed. Joey was freezing cold and needed my help drying off. I reached out to help him dry off, and again, I smelled Joanna.

A tiny part of me on the inside froze. Wait a minute. Has Joanna been following me around all day, or is it ME that smells?

It's a good question to ask.

It would have been a good question to ask 10 hours ago.

I leaned down and took a slight whiff.

It sounds odd, I know, but I couldn't quite tell if it was me. Maybe it was all in my head.

I leaned closer this time, and really took a good long sniff.

Oh yeah. It was me.

Glad we got that problem solved.

*Names have been changed to save me further embarrassment should she read my blog and be able to say, "AHA! I knew she smelled badly when she was in here!"

Silly Skylar

2010-03-19T15:20:00.000-07:00

Me: Skylar, Is your room clean?

Sky: As clean as a mouse.

Me: Oh? As clean as a mouse?

Sky: As clean as a trumpet washed in soap. [laughs]

As clean as pants washed in your head. [laughs again]

Me: [chuckling] So is it clean?

Sky: [laughing] Yes.

Crafty Card

2010-03-17T09:38:00.000-07:00

Here's the card I made yesterday. It honestly did make me feel better. So there, doldrums!

Sometimes You Just Have One of Those Days...

2010-03-16T15:40:00.001-07:00

This morning I woke up feeling a little bit off. Last night I went to bed feeling a little bit off. Yesterday I spent most of the day feeling a little bit off. You get the idea.

It's been weeks since we were in church because one or the other of the kids has been sick for months now. Joey has started having his "allergy eyes" (purple circles under his eyes) again, and we can't figure out what is causing it. Is it a food? Is it our laundry detergent? The weeds outside? The dust inside? So many things would be cleared up if we could just go to the allergist, but that is still out of our hands. The insurance doesn't feel that they have "enough evidence" to send him yet, so our pediatrician's office is rewriting their request. We could hear back in as little as a week or as long as a month. I called our Gastroenterologist to see if they had any ideas, but have missed 2 calls from them when the nurse called me back. Yes, I honestly missed them both.

We still haven't heard on our house, not a peep has been made, by even a mouse. So I guess in all areas we are just stuck. Stuck in the now-we-have-to-really-wait-on-the-Lord-and-not-trust-in-ourselves way, and not in the I-hate-my-life-and-wish-I-could-run-away way. Although kind of in that way too, if we're being honest. I've been wishing I could just get out of here, but then I remind myself that we've been gone a few times in the last few months and the problem is, we always have to come back. That kind of ruins the vacation a little bit.

The last few days, I have just been questioning. Am I doing the right thing by homeschooling? By teaching piano lessons? By blogging? You know me. I question a lot. I think most of the time it's good because it keeps my life focused. But sometimes I wish I could turn my brain off and just be. Right now is one of those times.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go make a really pretty card (I spent my Christmas money on card-making supplies, and I love the new hobby), take a picture of it and post it on The Sweet Spot so you can see that I've done something! ;) Hopefully that will help me get out of the doldrums.

The Spotees Round 5

2010-03-13T14:26:00.001-07:00

Thank you to all who sent in poems for the contest! I had a lot of fun reading them. :)

Are you ready to hear the winner?

I thought you might be.

All runners-up will win a lifetime subscription to The Sweet Spot, free of charge! It's a new prize that I'm just introducing this month. I thought you would be excited about that.

Anyway, the runners-up (and their poems are):

Stephanie, winner of the Spotee for most creative remake of a kids' song:

THE WHEELS ON THE DIRT BIKE GO FAST AND FASTER

FAST AND FASTER
FAST AND FASTER
THE WHEELS ON THE DIRT BIKE GO FAST AND FASTER
ALL OVER THE TRACK
THE HANDLE BARS ON THE DIRT BIKE GO VROOM VROOM VROOM
VROOM VROOM VROOM
VROOM VROOM VROOM
THE HANDLE BARS ON THE DIRT BIKE GO VROOM VROOM VROOM
ALL OVER THE TRACK
THE EXHAUST ON THE DIRT BIKE IS STINKY AND LOUD
STINKY AND LOUD
STINKY AND LOUD
THE EXHAUST ON THE DIRT BIKE IS STINKY AND LOUD
ALL OVER THE TRACK

Vanessa, winner of the Spotee for the funniest, make-me-laugh-out-loud song:

I have to go to the bathroom real real bad, real real bad, real real bad.

I have to go to the bathroom real real bad. All day long.

I have to go pee pee real real bad, real real bad, real real bad.
I have to go pee pee real real bad. All day long.

I have to go poo poo real real bad, real real bad, real real bad.
I have to go poo poo real real bad. All day long.

Kirsch, 1st Runner-up, winner of the Spotee for Insanely Creative Juices and a Very Cute Poem, as well as winner of the Spotee for being the first to respond:

There once was a lost letter - the letter "m"

"m" had decided to leave it's friends

"k, l, n, and o"

Mini "M" decided to ride a Mouse
Mighty "M" decided to Move a house!

Medium "M" decided to eat some Mush
Mad "M" decided to be Mean to us!

Minute "M" decided to become Minuscule
Manly "M" decided to grow a mustache

Finally, melancholy "M" was very sad and decided to go back home to rejoin his friends,
K, l, n, o were
Kicking
Licking
Nodding and generally
Overjoyed to see their long lost friend;
The Letter M!

And finally, the one and only, the winner of the Grand Prize $5 Starbucks Gift Card.

Drum roll please.

Buttercup, winner of the Spotee for the Best Overall Combination of Cute, Funny, and Creative:

When it comes to words, I am picky

Because some like "moist" sound icky

But the one I like best

So much more than the rest
Is the splendiferous word "sticky"

It's quite fun to say
rolls off my tongue the right way
it's how my hands like to stay
after sugary treats
the dentist says not to eat
Like cotton candy
and taffy so dandy
marshmallow fluff
oh, such glorious stuff!
I know I should quit
lickety-split
But when I take it in my hands
it simply demands
I say the word I love so well
"STICKY!" So, what the. . .
(Wait! This is a kid-friendly poem!)
*Revised last line*
So, it I will yell!

Congratulations to all of you for funny and original poems/songs!

Contest Reminder and Fish Poop

2010-03-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

Just a reminder because inevitably, someone will not realize that the contest ends TODAY.

The contest ends TODAY.

There. I said it.

Now you've been reminded. Finish sending in your kids poems or songs. I've gotten 3 in so far, and they're fabulous. But in case you're planning to send one in and you kind of really want to go to Starbucks this month and your goldfish won't let you use your credit card again because it thinks you're too far in debt, here's a chance to win a free trip there and leave the goldfish at home!

Anyway.

The contest ends tonight at 11:59.

The Birds and the Bees...Oh wait, that's a different post...that is NEVER coming.

2010-03-09T21:26:00.000-07:00

This week we have a contest going on at the Sweet Spot. I just posted my poem in the comments for the contest.

As I said earlier, I will probably win the contest.

As I said earlier, I will definitely NOT win the contest.

But it's always worth a shot.

I can't wait to see the poems/songs you write! Don't forget to send them in before this Friday (March 12) at 11:59 pm.

I leave you with this quote from Joey:

Joey: Mommy, I ate the crab that was pinching all my eggs.

Me: Oh really, Joe?

Joey: Yeah. He's so dead now.

It's all about the crab dying. That's all I'm saying. It is all about the crab dying.

Contest!!

2010-03-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

Hooray!! It's time for another contest at the Sweet Spot!!

This just came to me yesterday, and I'm so excited about it. Are you ready?

You have to write a children's poem or silly song. You know kids: the sillier, the better. Don't get hung up on perfect rhyme patterns or astronomically long words. It can be any length, it can have a chorus, it can require people to get up and do the motions...the sky's the limit!

You have a week to complete your poem/song and send it in to me via the comments section of my blog. That means it is due approximately March 12 at 11:59 pm. (If by "approximately", you mean "exactly", that statement would be correct.)

Anyway, write a funny poem or song and submit it for judging. As to the prize, I am still working on that. I'm considering making you the new owner of a (slightly used) child, but that's not official yet.

I don't think I've done a Starbucks card yet. How about $5 to Starbucks (or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf if you like that better)?

I'm going to be submitting a poem this time too, so how about that? Then I will judge them myself, and I will WIN!! *

The Sweet Spot thanks you most sincerely for your contributions.

Get crackin'!

* If by "submitting a poem", you mean "putting up the first one so everyone can get the general idea", and if by "I will WIN!!", you mean "I will not be allowed to win as I am the one holding the contest", you would be correct. Just in case there was a slight miscommunication.

Jokes

2010-03-03T15:40:00.000-07:00

It is amazing to me the joy having a 2-year old around the house brings. You get to hear about Fubby Baskets, Helitopturds, and dinosordies. Life is so much more fun if you call it a dinosordie. You should try it.

Anyway, I thought this conversation was particularly meaningful between Riley and me earlier this morning.

Me: Riley, what does the kitty say?

Riley: Meow Meow

Me: Good! What does the puppy say?

Riley: Woof Woof

Me: What does Daddy say? (I like to ask random questions just to see what the answer will be. This one didn't disappoint me.)

Riley: (thinking) uh...Eat tids.

Me: Eat kids?

Riley: huh (Riley for "yes") Eat tids. (Laughs)

Me: (Laughs)

Riley: Hahahahahaha! EAT TIDS!!! (Stops laughing and looks at me to see if I'm laughing again)

Me: (Laugh again)

Riley: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (leans over and almost falls out of his chair) Eat tids! Hahaha! (Looks at me again.)

Me: (Smiling) You're really silly, buddy.

Riley: (Totally serious) Get down now. I all done.

Apparently, that joke was over.

A lot like your mom.

A Good Noggin? Priceless.

2010-02-27T22:17:00.000-07:00

I was driving home from Sprouts when I saw it.

A Maserati.

I know what you're thinking.

"Christie, you're such a girl. How could you ever know what a Maserati is?"

I concede the point that I am in fact a girl. (Hopefully not a great shock to anyone.)

However, I have lived with Pete for at least a few years now, so yes, I know what a Maserati is. I even know how to spell it. (I must win major brownie points for being such an attentive wife. You can feel free to tell Pete that I should win said brownie points and therefore get a special treat. Like candy. Or jewelry. I'd be good with that.)

For a split second, I allowed myself to dream about what it would be like to have that kind of money to throw around. On a car. To be so rich and smart and beautiful that I could spend more than what some people spend on their houses on my car.

The light turned green. I took my foot off the brake and started to push the gas pedal when I realized Mr. Maserati was not moving. Was there a problem? A few seconds passed. Should I honk at him? Or is that a major faux pas? Isn't there some kind of rule that you can only honk at cars worth under $100,000? I hesitated. All of a sudden, Mr. Maserati raised his head, pulled the cell phone away from his ear for a brief moment, put the car in gear, and roared off.

I guess that much money can't buy brains after all.

The V-Day Feast

2010-02-25T10:35:00.000-07:00

I took a video of Pete on Valentine's Day talking about the food and how amazing it was. He was so funny! I just knew you would enjoy seeing it.

Sadly, my computer does not agree with me. It thinks you're better off not seeing it.

Ergo, I leave you with pictures of the Scrumptiousness. So your mouth can water all day long. And then you will call me up and say, "Oh, Christie, please make some of that food that is so delicious and nutritious and amazing, and I think you are so wonderful, and I wish you would cook for me every single day of the entire rest of my life."

And then I will say, "No!"

And I will run away laughing.

This is the way things happen in my family most often.

The menu included:

French Onion Soup with Toasted Homemade Bread and Fresh Mozzarella and Parmesan Cheeses

Salad with Field Greens from our Garden Topped With Strawberries, Blue Cheese Chunks, and Cranberry Gorgonzola Dressing

Grilled Rib-eye Steaks Topped With Mushrooms Sauteed in Butter and Garlic, Avocado Slices, and Pete's Famous Blue Cheese Butter

For Dessert (sorry no pictures of the dessert), Chocolate Dipped Strawberries and Dr. Horrible.

Was it perfect?

Yes.

Yes, it was.

Follow-up on the Post About Matt Edahl

2010-02-24T14:38:00.000-07:00

I read some comments on my post entitled Do Your Roots Hang Low? just now and was saddened to see some of the things people had written. I deleted the offensive comments, but I don't know for sure how long they were up there and if the Edahl family and friends might have seen them.

Therefore, I am writing this message to say that I apologize deeply for any offense those comments might have caused. Normally, it is just my family and close friends that read my blog, and I was unprepared for the comments because of that. I hope that my post did not come across as being in condemnation of this family or their church. I am so sorry if my post could have been taken as not coming from a heart of love. I was saddened to hear of the situation and wanted to let my family and friends know so they could join with me in prayers for healing and comfort.

And Dear Sweet Spot Readers, I know that my faithful readers do not struggle with leaving comments that are intended to make a point at the expense of someone else's feelings, but I hope that any who left anonymous comments not given from a heart of love will think more carefully about their words in the future. I know that I will think more carefully about what I post in the future.

Valentine's Day: Improved

2010-02-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing we have this holiday once a year. Otherwise no one would ever remember they loved each other.

Seriously, though, I love Valentine's Day. A whole holiday dedicated to making the special people in your life feel special. I love all the warm and gushy feelings. I love the dancing. (Not that the dancing ever happens to me, but I love that it happens to someone.) I love the cards and the chocolates and the stuffed animals. I love the little candy hearts. I love the flowers. I love cards that say, "Just wanted to say I love you" and "So glad you're mine". Truly, Valentine's Day made someone very, very rich. It is a keeper.

In honor of how wonderful my hubby is every Valentine's Day at making us feel special, I told him this year we should add a boy holiday too.

We're going to call it Tool Day. (He hasn't agreed to that yet, it's still in the preliminary stages.)

On this holiday, for starters, you don't have to shave. That's always a winner. (Unless you have to go to work, and then, sorry, you'll have to forgo this benefit of Tool Day.)

Secondly, you don't have to say anything all day. You can just grunt your wishes.

Thirdly, you can walk around in your underwear all day if you so desire. (This rule only applies to the boys, and again, only if you're not going to work. Or church. Or pretty much anywhere.)

Fourthly, the menu will not include any froofy items like chocolate-dipped strawberries or champagne, but will include more manly items like bratwursts and beer. And doughnuts. And chex mix.

No one really eats chex mix except guys watching tv.

Fifthly, and most importantly, the day will include as much tv as they could possibly want to watch. Football? Ok. Basketball? Sure, why not? The Simpsons? Absolutely. Family Guy? Definit--well, actually, probably not. The others are okay.

I think it sounds like a grand idea.

However, considering the nature of the holiday, I should probably call it "totally rockin', dude" instead of a "grand idea".

I pitched the idea to Pete, and he said, "uh." Then I asked him, "What did you mean by that? Does that mean you like the idea or not?"

A few seconds passed. Then he looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "Oh, I don't know. It sounds like it might be fun."

"Might be? Do you want a holiday dedicated to you and your manliness or not?" I asked, indignant.

"That'd be fine, I guess." (Not looking at me.)

"You guess? Geez, I try to do something nice for you, and you--"

He interrupted with, "Babe, can we not talk about this right now? I haven't seen this episode of the Simpsons yet, and I'm kind of into it."

That was when I realized it.

Every day is Tool Day around here.

Every single one.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

To the men: I really hope you enjoy making your sweetie feel special, and I hope you get to enjoy the benefits of Tool Day. Every day.

To the women: Give your guy a break. It's demanding to break from the routine and change the grunts into actual words.*

Seriously, I hope you have a whole lot of fun today, no matter what you end up doing. We're doing the usual--cooking a fantabulous dinner, and then...eating it! It's really a win-win situation.

We're also adding in a family movie this year for the kiddos to have something fun.

For me, though, I don't know if I'll even be able to focus on the movie. I've got Blue Cheese Steaks on the mind. My tummy says "rrr-rarr-grrr-blip." (Translation: Where is my Blue Cheese steak, and why am I not eating it right now?! Plus, I deserve some French Onion Soup because I've been so good lately. You know you want to give me some. You know you do.) (No, really. You do.)

Tummy language is much simpler than English. It's a wonder we don't all make the switch.

*My deepest apologies to those men who have already moved beyond their native language and learned to speak Girl. We appreciate your efforts. Really, we do.

Do Your Roots Hang Low

2010-02-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

As we were driving the other day, Joey saw two trees strapped together and asked why they had a string between them. I answered him that some trees' roots are weak and can't hold the tree up, so the owner will strap it to another tree that has deep roots and can support itself and the weak tree, keeping the weak one from falling over. I said that the trees are strapped together until the weaker one's roots grow deep enough to support itself, and then they will take the strap off.

As I was telling him that, I realized that this is a beautiful metaphor for the Body of Christ. Are you weak? Find a strong tree next to you to tie yourself to for a time until you are strong enough to stand on your own. Are you strong? Is there a tree near you that is weak? Come alongside that tree and strap yourself to the weaker one to keep it from falling over.

I realized too that a weak tree can be completely surrounded by strong, deeply-rooted trees on all sides and still fall over or grow in the wrong direction. Just being surrounded doesn't necessarily do anything, it's the tying together that's the key.

Please pray for this church in our area. Their youth pastor committed suicide this weekend, leaving behind his wife and children. Pray for the congregation as a whole, but also pray specifically for his widow Lizzie as she deals with the aftermath. Something we have felt impressed on us is that as a Body, we need to be seeking out those who are hurting in our congregation and encouraging them with the love of the Lord. God has put us together for a reason, and we can’t ignore those who are hurting in our midst. This church is not my church, and I know it’s not your church either, but we are all a part of the same Body, and we can lift them up as they go through this difficult time. Thank you for your prayers.

And, HEY! If you're considering suicide as an option, go talk to someone! Get help! You can sit back and blame whoever you want for the problems in your life and end up leaving your family to deal with the most painful thing they could probably ever have to deal with. Or you can try something different. Talk to someone. Get on your knees before the Lord. Find a mature Christian to tie yourself to until your roots grow strong enough on their own. I KNOW depression is a place that seems impossible to get out of, but I also know how strong is the God we serve. What is impossible with man IS possible with God.

Fairy Dust and Cranky Pants, Bad Guys and Swords

2010-02-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-01-31T21:55:00.000-07:00

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

2010-01-26T15:28:00.000-07:00

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

2010-01-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-01-19T12:54:00.000-07:00

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!).

Pull Out, Betty! You've hit an Artery!

2010-01-13T12:11:00.000-07:00

Have you heard of the amazing Facebook debate? Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who hasn't been embroiled in it. I wouldn't exactly say I got myself in the middle of it, but I kind of...well...got myself in the middle of it.

I'm not going to rehash the debate because it's unimportant and is causing so many hurt feelings and hurt pride(s?) that I don't want to drag the yuck over here to The Sweet Spot. But it has definitely made me think and think hard about Facebook.

I have decided several times in the last year to cancel my Facebook account because it seems to cause more problems than it solves. It is nice to occasionally be able to go on and see how my old friends are doing, but to be honest, the main people I talk to on FB are the ones I see regularly. The other ones don't seem to care, and I don't seem to care, and it all comes out in the wash.

I was reading some random person's blog the other day who was posting on whether John Calvin would have used social media like Facebook if he had been alive now. The guy's argument went like this:

1. John Calvin seems like he was a type A personality.

2. I am a type A personality.

3. Type A personalities are the only "real" types of personalities. (You should be one too!)

4. I use Facebook.

5. Therefore, John Calvin would have also.

6. He would have loved it.

7. Quit picking on me for using Facebook!

That's how I read it to be. And as I was reading that (and laughing at him on the inside), I was thinking: if you have to justify it that much, why do it? If you can't just use it in good conscience and not have to defend yourself by bringing in an old, dead guy, is it really worth it? What do you gain from Facebook? What tangible benefits does it provide you? In your life? In your studies? In your walk with Christ? In your marriage?

Maybe it benefits you. I think for me it is mostly just a time-waster. And lately, I've been so convicted that I don't need to waste my time there that I am never on it and never know what's going on unless other people tell me about it. If that's going to be the case, why can't I just delete my account and let everyone still tell me about what's going on? The main reason I don't is the connection it provides with my family that I don't see everyday and with whom I don't have a consistent email relationship. I like going on every once in a while and being able to see pictures of their kids and see what's going on in their lives. I found out about my cousin's daughter breaking a bone on Facebook. I guess you could say that's worth it.

But then I wonder if I should just delete my account and restart it with only my family as my friends, completely hiding my profile from the rest of the world so they couldn't find me if they wanted to. Do you think people would call me more often? Would they write me a letter? Would they come and visit me because they didn't know what was going on in my life through the internet? Or would I cease to exist to them because I don't share a major part of their lives? Would I not know about the birthday parties and the drama and the "feelings" that only seem to be shared when there isn't a real live person in front of you? And then I wonder if maybe I could really live without that.

The thing that it does is provide a false sense of community, which in turn could cause me to stop seeking real community. I don't think in itself it's wrong. I just wonder what the reasons are for using it, and if I glorify God more by being a part of it. Do I? Or is it a way to seek earthly status and recognition and false security to dull the ache that I don't fill the way it's supposed to be filled? (Motor oil, and lots of it.)

I know some people don't use it for those reasons. I think I could pretend like I'm still okay with using it because I know so many people who are genuinely okay with it. Deep down, though, I don't think I am okay with it for me. I am sure the public outcry is going to be intense, but I just don't feel comfortable with it. Maybe when my kids are older and I have more time to waste. Maybe when I feel like I am spending enough time with the Lord and getting all of my chores done that I feel like I can afford the time.

Until then, I'll keep up my blog and the Bible Study and my email, and we'll keep in touch that way. To the rest of my fans who don't follow my blog or my Bible Study or have my email, sayonara.

Wait! I'm not sure I can really pull the plug! Then I start thinking about how many things I might miss! And how I don't want to be one of those ninny-pinnies who is always saying, "Oh, you shouldn't do this, and you definitely shouldn't do that!" I think I may just start over with it and only keep my family on there. Will you forgive me if you aren't one of the ones that makes the cut this time? Oof, this decision is killing me! Well, let me know your thoughts, if you have any, about what my decision should be.

The Proposal

2010-01-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

A little conversation around the lunch table today.

Joey: When I grow up, I want to marry Sissy.
Me: Well, we can't actually marry our relatives--like your sister or your cousin or your aunt--because if you did, your kids would come out with a whole bunch of problems.
Skylar: You mean you can't marry your friends?
Me: No, you can marry a friend. You just can't marry someone who's related to you.
Skylar: Good, 'cause I'm going to marry Ben.
Joey: Yeah, and I'm going to marry Timmy.
(Timmy is Ben's brother, and they all play together a lot.)
Me: Joey, you have to marry a girl. Boys marry girls, and girls marry boys.
Joey: Okay, then I want to marry Daddy.
Me: Daddy's not a girl. You have to marry a girl.
Joey: (thinking) Okay, then I will marry Miss Stephanie.
(Miss Stephanie is Ben and Timmy's mom.)
Skylar: No, you can't marry Miss Stephanie! She's already married!
Joey: Well, who can I marry, Sissy?
Skylar: I'm trying to decide who I should marry too. I'm trying to decide between Ben, Timmy, and James.
Joey: You should marry James.
Skylar: No, I think I'll marry Ben. That's what I'm going to do. Joey, you could marry Evie. (Ben and Timmy's younger sister who is almost 1.)
Joey: Um, no. That wouldn't be good. She's littler than me. I guess I'll marry Sarah. (Sarah is 7)
Skylar: Okay, you could do that. That would be good, I guess.
Joey: Yeah! That would be good. Then I will marry Sarah!

So it's all decided. Have you gotten your invitations yet?

Oh man, I am so in for it when they grow up.

The Little Clavicle that Could...n't

2009-12-06T19:49:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was very beautiful and was loved by all who knew her (except for the occasional small child including, but not limited to, her two younger brothers who had a chance to experience her bossiness).

Her life was a happy life (except when she was given the wrong color plate at the dinner table, at which point most happy memories dissolved in the face of such tragic circumstances).

She had two parents, two brothers, and one snuggly bear who had loved her dearly since the day he was placed in her crib.

One night, this little girl was helping herself to her second bowl of pasta at the dinner table and was trying to decide whether she should sit on her knees or plain out on her rump. She was in the middle of both positions, and in the middle of her decision, when all of a sudden WHAM! She fell out of her chair!

She hit the ground on her shoulder, and immediately let out a bloodcurdling yell, certain to wake all kinds of dead things: people, bugs, food, computer games. Her daddy picked her up and asked her to be quiet. Surely some things are better left dead. There is no need to wake what's good and gone, he told her.

She refused to see his grown-up logic and continued wailing. Her mom asked her if she could raise her arm at all, and when she couldn't even an inch without many tears, they headed out to the hospital.

After receiving some delightful yellow socks (with which to keep her tootsies warm), and a toasty-roasty hospital blanket (with which to keep her rest of her warm), she was taken to get x-rays. She got the idea that an x-ray machine was like a giant science project and began asking her questions of the x-ray tech about how such things work. She was extremely fascinated to see what her bones looked like.

Two x-rays later, she was wheeled back to her room. (A bed with wheels? We should get one of these at home, Mom!)

The doctor came in and showed her a picture of her bones.

He showed her this picture of her bones.

"You broke your clavicle clean through, little lady," the doctor commented.

"I did?" She asked seriously.

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded, if a bit absent-mindedly.

"Oh." She paused for a second. "That's cool."

He looked down at her, surprised. "Cool?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," she answered decisively.

"Okay, then," the doctor answered with a little smile on his face.

I would swear she just made his night a little better.

She is a trooper.

This little girl is convalescing at home, surrounded still by her parents, her two brothers, and her faithful bear who would never dare let her have all the adventures without him. She is completely content.

Very recently, the kitty jumped up on her lap and was pleased to find warm blankets covering a warm lap. The kitty snuggled up with the little girl.

Her grandma asked her if she had had her picture taken yet, and she said, "Nope. But you can take one. I can smile."

Then she smiled. And Grandma took her picture.

Cheese!

P.S. The kitty didn't like the camera and jumped off. That part was short-lived. The rest will probably continue on forever.

Fall Flutterings

2009-11-25T09:52:00.000-07:00

Are you enjoying fall?

I know I am! We had a lovely pre-Thanksgiving feast last night with a few friends, and it was just a wonderful time. I can't ever get enough of turkey and sweet potatoes. We also had homemade rolls from my sister-in-law and salad with fresh lettuce from our garden. It was a really nice time of laughter and fellowship, and I was so grateful for the evening.

We also enjoyed our church's Thanksgiving feast this past Sunday, and that was an event to remember! Tons of food, all of it extremely delicious--especially the tiramisu and banana pudding!! Yum, Yum, Yum!

Pete and I went away for a night to celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary, and it was so welcome! We had a lovely stay at a hotel, ate sushi, and took a 90-minute steamboat cruise on Canyon Lake. It was a wonderful trip! We both felt so refreshed when we came back.

Before that, we enjoyed Halloween at our church's Fall Festival, and that was a fun and crazy night. We have had Joey on a gluten-free diet, and that night he took two bites of a hot dog bun that clearly had gluten in it. We figured it was proof that we were on the right track when he broke out with a spot of excema the next morning right in the middle of his forehead. It was helpful for us to determine that we were talking allergy instead of Celiac's Disease, which I think overall is a good thing. We had gotten in a good flow of making gluten-free foods, and since Riley was showing signs of being allergic to milk, I was putting soy milk in the things I made to keep everyone on the same page. We had hit a good rhythm.

The problem is that Joey turned out to have an allergy to soy instead of gluten, so although we had taken out some of the major offenders with store-bought bread, we had put a lot of it back in by using soy milk in the cooking. Uh, sorry, kid, don't mind if I just KILL YOU right now!! What? You're allergic to soy? Here, let me put soy in EVERYTHING you eat so I can make you sicker.

What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Not really.

So now we are readjusting our diet to take out all soy and most milk (for Riley), which so far, leaves us with no milk substitute. I am going to get some rice milk in a bit, but the Rice Dream name has always weirded me out. Is anyone else weirded out by that? Whose dream is it to have rice milk? I'm just wondering.

Speaking of weirded out.....Yeah, I'm going to leave it there.

We hope you are enjoying your fall as much as we are!

Oops!!

2009-11-23T20:02:00.001-07:00

I have something to say. (Are you really that surprised??)

Here it is:

I AM SO SORRY!!

I posted a link to my church's website (I thought), then walked away, expecting everyone to figure it out if they wanted to and not if they didn't. However, I forgot to CHECK the link, and then I haven't checked my blog for about 16.23 years. Why, why, why do I suck so much?! This I ask you, not particularly expecting an answer. (Seriously, if you answer that question, I might just have to beat you upside the head with a wet noodle!)

Remember when I told you about my muchisimo computer-genius friend who was going to figure out a PayPal button? Well, he did something better. It's not PayPal, but it's definitely a link that works. I hope. If you wanted to post a link on your own blog, this is probably the best one you can post because it has all the current info, plus it's official from my church so everyone knows you're not lying. Even though you are. Not.

Anyway, once again, here's the link. I'm seriously sitting here and using computer-genius dust (it's borrowed) as well as exceptional tai chi (wait, that's the workout/relaxation thing) to make this work.

Please, please, please let this work.

Let me know if it doesn't.

For real.

Just don't expect me to answer you until the next century. Seriously. That's how awesome I am.

Major Feedback

2009-11-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

You may have been thinking about little Cade this weekend, or you may have been thinking about something entirely different. Although my mind-reading skills are far advanced in the realm of humans, I still seem to hit a blank when I try to read minds through the computer.

Anyway.

I have had so many people come and express their concern and offer prayers of thanks and paryers for God's hand to be in the finances, and I am so thankful for you and the difference you make in other people's lives. Sometimes we kid ourselves that we can't do anything to help, our words don't matter, etc. That is just about the biggest, fattest piece of BALONEY I've ever heard. You have made a difference in Sarah and Josh's life this weekend, so thank you!

I have also had people come and tell me that they can't give any money right now even though they REALLY want to. I completely understand this. Life hits each of us in different ways at different times. If you want to help but don't have any money to give, I thought of some other ways you can help:

1. Post a link to my blog or copy and paste the story into yours. OR write your own story about it for the people that are in your circle. Your circle may not be super-hero huge, but if 15 different small circles went out, that would make a difference.

2. If you have a church family, you could let them know about the situation and see if you can make an announcement or collect a special offering. Small churches may be more willing to do this. If you go to a bigger church, what about your Bible Study group or personal group of friends? One year our Sunday School class (about 20 families) collected more than $2,000 for a family in need. You might be surprised to find how many people are wanting to help and need only to be asked.

3. Okay, if you tell me that you have no blog, no friends, no church, no life, not even a piggy bank that you could ask for money, here's another idea: Send Sarah and Josh a card and let them know you are praying for them. God knows their need. I trust Him to come up with the money, so if He doesn't choose to use you for that part, no sweat. Also, if you come across a Diego shirt (not San Diego, but Diego the cartoon character) in any size between 4 and 6, you could send that to Cade. They had to cut his favorite Diego shirt off of him in the helicopter, and he was telling them (with his best manners), "No thank you, I can't have you cut off my Diego shirt. Please, no thank you. I need my Diego shirt." We looked everywhere for one the next day but came up empty-handed. You would probably have to know someone who was obsessed with Diego a few years ago and steal their favorite Diego shirt to pass along to Cade.

These are just ideas. If you have others, feel free to post them. I am trying to get my computer-genius friend to put a PayPal button on my blog so you can give directly from my blog. I will let you know when that is up and running.

I also wanted to call your attention to the fact you can make your donation to Cade through my church so it will be tax deductible. I know, for some of you this matters. If it's important to you to get the tax deduction for your giving, go to my church's website, get the address and mail it to them. They are asking you to put "for Cade" in the memo line so it will get to the right place, and they will pass it along to Sarah and Josh.

Thanks for being a part of my life and caring about what's important to me.

I mean, you do, right?

Hello?

(tap. tap.) Is this thing on? (major feedback)

Anyone??

My Little Friend Cade

2009-11-13T11:49:00.000-07:00

Today is a day for a very important post. It's an important-post kind of day.

I have a friend whom I love very dearly, and we've known each other since Junior High. We had our first babies only two months apart, and we've been there through so many ups and downs in each other's lives. I was recently answering another friend's question about whether my kids had experienced a certain sickness, and I felt like they had, although I couldn't pull up a specific occurrence. After a few minutes of thinking about it, I realized that it was my friend Sarah's son and not any of my own kids that had experienced it. I guess it all just runs together in my mind--her kids, my kids...all the same.

Anyway, two days ago her son Cade (4 yrs old) was in a scary accident in the backyard when a stone lion statue fell on his head and trapped him for more than 2 minutes. The statue was so heavy that Sarah wasn't able to lift it off of him by herself, but after crying out to God for help and yelling for a neighbor to come, she was able to roll it onto herself while her neighbor pulled Cade out.

As she was watching the paramedics deal with her son and medivac him to the hospital, she was certain that he would never come home. She just knew that he was dying, and she was trying to be strong and let him go.

God had another idea, though, because Cade got every test in the book and was told he might have a minor concussion, if anything. They couldn't find any internal bleeding, no cracked ribs, no single thing wrong other than the concussion. What a miracle that is!! We saw him yesterday, and he is sporting some pretty cool bruises, but they looked like something he could have picked up in a fight with his big brother for all they bothered him. He was actually upset that he couldn't run up the stairs or change out of his comfortable pajamas.

We have witnessed the miraculous healing of little Cade, but Sarah and Josh have another battle ahead of them. They do not have health insurance, and they have been struggling as many of us have to make ends meet recently. Sarah got the bill for just the helicopter they used to transport Cade to the hospital--the first of many expensive bills--and it is over $16,000! With no insurance and no extra money in their own budget, these medical bills are an impossibility.

This is Cade at Skylar's birthday party this past summer. He is such a special little boy.

We are trusting in God's provision to provide for them and their family. Will you consider making a donation to their family to help them cover the costs of their medical bills? Any prayers and donations will be gratefully accepted. Thanks!

It's a Poopy, Poopy World

2009-11-10T16:51:00.000-07:00

Today, it is safe to say that I lost it. Really, truly lost it.

Why, you might ask? What could possibly induce me to leave my extremely cool and collected emotional state*?

I'll tell you what brought me out of it. I'll just tell you. It's a little word that starts with a 'P' and ends with an 'oop'. That's right. POOP!

I was busy doing Reading with Skylar in the school room/Riley's bedroom while Riley and Joey were playing outside. I heard the door open and someone run into Joey and Skylar's room. Then I heard that same someone run out a few seconds later.

"Joey?" I guessed.

"What?" he answered. I had guessed right.

"What were you doing?" He came into the school room and was conveniently NOT wearing his underwear or pants. This is not abnormal for Joey, but it usually raises a slight alarm in my mind.

"Uh, I pooped in my underwear, so I took them off."

"You pooped in your underwear? You took them off?" My voice rose an octave. "What do you mean?"

He turned around and I could see the smellacious substance still clinging to his posterior.

"Uh, I put them in the dirty clothes because they were dirty." He emphasized the last word. As in, duh. Yes, Joey, if you poop in your underwear, it usually gets dirty. Yes, somehow, someway, it really does.

I got up from my chair where Skylar and I were cuddled up reading real sentences, making great strides in the land of Kindergarten, to walk down the hallway after the poopy bottom. As I was walking, I began to notice whole chunks of it. On my carpet. You might understand why at this point I just kind of lost it. I mean, I really lost it!

"What is your problem, Kid? What were you thinking? If you have an accident, you come and tell Mommy about it! You don't take off your pants and put them in the dirty clothes basket! You don't EVER do that! We do NOT do that! We NEVER put our poop in the dirty laundry basket. EVER. We NEVER, EVER do that!!"

"Well, they were dirty."

"Of course they were dirty, but Joe, seriously! Don't do that to me!" I started cleaning up the poop in the hallway and wiping the poop off of him and then ventured close to the dirty clothes basket.

"Get on your bed! Where is the poop?!"

"I don't know."

"Get back on your bed! Don't say you don't know. Where is the poop!?!?!"

"I don't know, Mommy."

"Joey, seriously, oh man!" I reached my hand into the basket, fully expecting to be bitten by the offensive stuff. I found a pair of pants with underwear still in them. These must be the ones. I pulled them up slowly, and found...

No poop.

"Okay, where is the poop?! Where is the poop!!?" Then I saw some smeared on the bottom edge of the same pair of pants. Then I noticed some smeared on the waistband. Then I felt something ROLLING AROUND ON THE INSIDE. Oh, no way!

I cleaned the yucky parts off the hem and the waistband with some baby wipes and debated on how to get the other part out from the inside. Why am I constantly in these situations, I wondered. Why, why, why?!

Then I got an idea that was truly splendiferous. I mean, there were angels singing in heaven when I thought this idea: If it's rolling around in there, it's not all smeared on the inside. I could roll it right out into the toilet without ever touching the dang stuff. So that's what I did. I picked up all ends of the pants that might have holes in them and could dump their contents on my unsuspecting foot, and I carried it to the bathroom where I promptly disposed of it.

Then I put myself on a major time-out. No more play time for mommy. She seriously needs to learn how to keep ahold of herself when she's upset. I took a little nap, and I read my Bible for a while, and I am feeling better now, but I have the hard part of apologizing for majorly losing my temper ahead of me. Yikes! Those are never the proudest moments of my life.

But away I go. Wish me luck.

*Umm...yeah. Right.

Donald Addies (No, you don't know him, but you will soon!)

2009-11-04T13:31:00.000-07:00

A little conversation that occurred in our house last night.

Riley: Mo-mmy!
Me: What?
Riley: Donald.
Me: (absent-mindedly) Donald?
Riley: Donald.
Me: Donald?
Riley: huh (that means yes).

(Pause)

Riley: Mo-mmy!
Me: What?
Riley: Seen.
Me: Seen? Seen what?
Riley: Seen. Mo-mmy! MO-MMY!
Me: What? (halfway cluing in) What, Riley?
Riley: Seen, Mo-mmy! Seen! Seen Donald! Seen Donald, Mo-mmy! Seen!
Me: Oh! Sing?
Riley: huh
Me: You want me to sing? What do you want me to sing?
Riley: Donald, Donald, Donald.
Me: (zoning out again)

(Pause)

Riley: Mo-mmy!
Me: What, Riley?! I don't know what Donald is. Sing Donald?
Riley: huh. (pats my face) Seen Donald, Donald, Donald.
Me: Old MacDonald?
Riley: huh! Donald, Donald, Donald. Seen!

So I sang Old MacDonald.

Then I got told to sing it again.

And I did.

I am always quick to obey The Little Dictator's commands.

Today he dictated that I should make Addies (eggies*) for lunch. And I did. Without even blinking.

Riley: Mo-mmy!
Me: What, Riley?
Riley: Addies!
Me: Addies? You want eggies?
Riley: Huh.
Me: Ok. They'll be ready in 5 minutes. (I start pulling eggs and milk out of the fridge.)
Riley: Mo-mmy!
Me: What?
Riley: Put. Plate.
Me: I will, buddy. I have to make them first. Look. I'm cooking them.
Riley: Addies. Put. Plate!
Me: Okay, bud. 5 minutes. Have patience.
Riley: day. (Okay.)

Yes, it's true. He demands and I acquiesce. Immediately. It's kind of a good groove that we're in.

For him.

For me, not so much.

Oh well, I suppose one day I'll look back and wish I could have a Little Dictator again. (At that point he'll weigh more than me and will be known affectionately as The Big Dictator. Until then, these are happy days.

*Yes, I really call them "eggies" with my kids. I'm pretty sure I'm the one that made that up too. You never would have guessed, right?

Boundaries, Cat-Style

2009-10-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

Guess what I did yesterday?

No, I didn't go on a week-long cruise through the continent of Africa.

Uh, nope, it wasn't the skydiving that I'm dying to do (although hopefully not literally).

No, I didn't find more poop on the carpet or in the trash can. (I did find a big old pile of it in the toilet waiting for me when I went in to use the bathroom. Man, I hate it when the flushing step gets cut out of the routine. But anyway, that's a different story.)

Okay, you're never going to guess. I'm just going to tell you.

I deleted about 50 people as my friends on facebook. Oh, ouch! (I know you're just dying to know if it was you, am I right?)

We were talking about Facebook with some friends on Sunday, and one of my friends said that she didn't feel the need to be friends with people on Facebook that she isn't friends with in real life. And somehow that just got me to thinking. I've been toying with the idea of canceling my Facebook account altogether because sometimes I just hate it. I hate seeing people that I don't like having their faces and stories all over my computer screen. I know that sounds really mean, but I've been thinking that some of the people I'm "friends" with on Facebook could come up to me and ask me to go out to lunch with them--or even just go get coffee, for that matter--and I would turn them down. I would make up an awesome excuse about how I'm really busy with my kids, or this is just such a crazy time of life for us, or how I have special needs and have to spend more time meditating so that I don't kill people...You get the picture. Anything to get them to go away. And I avoid checking my facebook regularly because without fail, those are the people who post 6,000 updates every 10 minutes, so I end up only seeing them and not people whose lives I am genuinely interested in.

So I started to feel very powerful. Very, very powerful. (Can you hear the evil laugh? "That's about standards.") And I went through and deleted. Do I talk to you? Do I like seeing your status updates? Would I send you a Christmas card or expect one in return? If the answer was "no", I showed no mercy. Just, boom. Gone.

And surprisingly, I feel really good about those decisions. I feel freer, less cluttered. I don't want to be "friends" with people just because it makes me look better to have 260 friends instead of 42. I always felt kind of sorry for the people with 42 friends--as if they weren't cool enough to have hundreds. Now I think maybe they just have better boundaries than I do.

Now I just hope none of those people read my blog regularly.

Well, if you do, and you found yourself deleted by me yesterday, and it matters to you, please email me about it. I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes. I just really don't even know who you are. So help me out here. If we were best buddies in another life, you need to let me in on the secret. Thanks.

This is my kitty, Max. If you didn't know Max before he went off to kitty heaven, you should have. He had boundaries. And special needs. He would have had no trouble coming up with the excuses to get him out of going to lunch with the kitty friends he didn't like. One sneeze of blood would have been all it took, and they would have run in the other direction. I'm going to make it a point to be more like Max today.

As Promised

2009-10-23T14:09:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, there's poop on the carpet!" Skylar yelled to me from across the house.

"What do you mean, Poop?!" I yelled back.

"Poop! It's poop! On the carpet in the hallway. I will NOT walk down the hallway because I will get poop on my feet!"

"Whose poop is it?" a critical question at this point, I thought.

"I don't know."

"Was it yours?"

"No! I do NOT poop on the floor. It's probably Joey's. Or maybe Riley's."

"Good deduction." (There aren't really any other people in our family at this point since Pete was at work.)

I wasn't yelling anymore because she had come over to where I was. "Did you actually see someone pooping on the carpet?" (For more info about people pooping on my carpet, see my post on pooping on the carpet. It's not really a how-to, but it is a good story.) I started walking with her to the other side of the house. The whole time, she kept up a constant ramble about poop and her feet and the carpet and not going down the hallway. When we got to the hallway, I looked around for the poop.

"Eww, do you smell that?" Skylar asked.

"Yeah," Joey answered. "It smells like POOP!" He giggled. A lot.

"Joey, did you have an accident?"

"No!" He stated emphatically. "I only poop in the potty."

I still didn't see the poop.

"Where is it?"

The kids pointed out a very small piece of brown that could quite possibly have been poop. Or a piece of raisin that was smooshed. Or dirt from someone's shoe. They gathered around it and put their heads together over the top of the "poop."

"I will NOT step in it!" Joey decided.

"Eww. My nose doesn't like smelling poop!" Skylar shared.

"I'm looking at the poop. Right there. It smells like POOP!" Joey really loves to say the word poop. Then he giggled again.

"Well, don't gather around it, kids. I'll clean it up."

"Can you clean it up?" Skylar asked doubtfully.

"I'm pretty sure I can manage."

"Wow," she breathed in admiration.

Yes, I am that awesome. I really am.

I am so awesome that I promptly forgot what I was doing and did not go back to clean it up because I had 7,562 other things on my mind and apparently couldn't hold in one more piece of poop. So, maybe it's still there, I don't really know. Or maybe it turned into a raisin after all and already got eaten.

Ah, poop. It does a family good.

The Post-Cubbie-Bear Post

2009-10-21T21:06:00.000-07:00

Tonight after a long night in Cubbie's (the 3 and 4 yr old's AWANA class that I teach at our church), I got home to find Pete watching TV in bed. I crawled up on the bed next to him to kiss him hello. He leaned his face toward me, and then pulled away.

"Take that shirt off before you come and kiss me."

My eyebrows rose.

Wow, really?

I mean, I haven't put the kids in bed yet, but, okay. We could play that game.

Oh, wait.

I looked down.

Yep, that would be it.

I sighed. (Internally, though, not wanting to tip my hand that I had thought I was being propositioned by an incredibly handsome man who was currently lying in my bed.)

"Why, because it's covered in snot and Cubbie-Bear-cough germs?" I asked innocently.

"Yeah. I'm afraid of it," he said, then promptly turned back to Law & Order on TV.

"Oh." I sighed.

Then I giggled.

Then I blogged about it.

Now you can giggle too.

If you want to.

P.S. I did take my shirt off and give him that kiss after all. We'll see whose eyebrows have the last word...or raise, as it were.

P.P.S. Just to keep this PG, I had a tank top on underneath. Not that I would have had to, and not that I wouldn't have done it anyway, but I did. Just so we're on the up and up. I don't want someone to turn this into something it's not.

Because it's really not. Here I am blogging, and there he is...watching Mythbusters.

Ah.

All is as it should be.

P.P.P.S. After posting my picture of us, I'd really like to rip his hat off and smooch him till his eyes go blurry and his ears start ringing. I'm just saying.

P.P.P.P.S. That's why we have so many kids. And that's why Pete got the snip-snippy, if you know what I mean.

Wow, I am just sharing all kinds of personal information tonight. I need to go and pick my toenails* or something.

*Not that I would ever do that. You understand. It's just that anything is better than this colossal throwing up of my personal life all over you. No, wait, that's what I always do. Oh, yeah, I guess we're good then.

The Follow Up to the Foreclosure Posts

2009-10-13T16:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I kind of blasted everyone a few days ago with my foreclosure post.* I got so many people either calling me or emailing me with encouragement, and that was priceless! Seriously, thank you so much for taking the time to do that. But I also had almost every single person ask me if they were the ones who had made comments like the ones about which I wrote. And I just wanted to make a formal statement. I don't think I was talking to you. (There, doesn't that assuage you guilt?) I wasn't trying to squeeze confessions out of you or make you come and beg forgiveness (not that any of you did) (Jerks) (Just kidding), but I wanted to vent and say that I am tired of the commercials and in general the announcements that are being crammed down our throats saying that the banks don't want you to foreclose, that they will do anything to keep you in your house, blah blah blah. For us, that was so far from the truth, it's not even funny. I got a comment from Mama V saying she and her husband are going through a similar time with the bank. Wake up, News! Wake up, Banks! Telling someone to default on their payments when they are trying to be proactive and deal with a problem before it crushes them is NOT working with them at all cost. It is NOT working with "everyone", and it really is not helpful. Once you are in default, it is seemingly impossible to get out. Once we went there, we had to pay back the extra that we had missed along with our regular payment. Oh, you can't pay your regular mortgage? Okay, here, we've given you a payment that's $500 higher every month. Aren't we nice? Oh, you can't pay that? And it's been 5 months since you've made a mortgage payment? Well, we'll give you a trial period that is $200 less than what you should have been paying all along. What? You can't afford that? (Duh. You have our entire financial history, bank accounts, pay stubs, tax forms, utilities bills, affidavits of grocery and gas bills... Look at that and tell me if I can afford your trial period.) (I'm not bitter, though.) (Not really) Well, then--and here it comes--the line we heard so many times it makes me want to gouge my eyes out and throw them all the way to Texas to hit the person I'm talking to in the face--"I'm sorry, ma'am, but if you won't make your payments in the trial period, there's nothing we can do."

You're saying there's nothing you can do?

That's right, ma'am. Nothing.

What about what I hear on the news? About you working with anyone, renegotiating with anyone?

Did you make your payments in the trial period?

No, I couldn't afford them. You have all of my financial paperwork. You can clearly see that I couldn't afford them.

Well, it doesn't matter if you can afford them or not. If you don't make your payments during the trial period, there. is. nothing. we. can. do. (Pause) Will there be anything else I can help you with today?

No, really, you've been too helpful already. Thank you so much.

Now, you may wonder why I am bringing all of this up again. Am I still that ticked? Do I need another round of e-hugs to feel better? (Well, actually, that's not a bad idea.)

But seriously, it came up again because I called the mortgage company again today, and once it's ruined my day, I feel like I should share the love and ruin yours too.

We found out a couple of weeks ago that we still own our house, that it didn't go to auction as they assured us it would back in June. So we have been tossing around ideas on whether we should try to save it again (now that Pete has a different job), or whether we should really, really let it go. When I talked to them today (after 42 minutes on hold and three tries to get more than a person who said "That's not my department. Can I put you on hold again?" Uh, no.) (The 42 minutes was not an exaggeration, by the way. I know a lot of times I exaggerate, and it's hard to tell the difference), the lady I spoke with said that they had apparently put the process on hold because of a letter I sent them in July. Did I send them a letter, she asked? I was pretty sure I had, I answered (and a quick check of My Documents proved that assumption correct). Apparently, they decided to try and work with me, she said. What did she mean, work with me, I asked. Did they call me?

Um, not that I show.

Did they contact me by mail?

Um, not that I show.

I'm unclear as to how they were working with me, then. Did they send a carrier pigeon to my old house? Because I moved out of that house when they told me too. What exactly did they do to let me know that they had received my letter and decided to extend me more of a grace period?

Um, I don't really show anyth--you know what? I don't have that information. Do you want me to transfer you to the department that might have that information?

Is it the same department I left a message for 3 weeks ago and haven't heard back from?

Yep, that'd be the one.

Uh, no. Thanks for the effort, but I'm fine here. Really. It was just a house. What do I care? It's just $183,000 going on my credit. No big deal. Really. No big deal.

I know what you're thinking. (Not really) (Well, maybe.) (Muwah-ah-ah-ah.) You're thinking that I sound really depressed all the time lately, and that I've lost my sense of fun and adventure, and seriously, can't we skip all the crazy ranting posts and just go back to the ones about poop?! (Poop is always a crowd-pleaser.)

Here's my answer to that: This is my blog. I like to write about what is going on in my life. I like to let you in on what I'm thinking about. (Unless it's how many times a day I think about Pete's hotness. I like to censor that a little bit.) And I definitely believe that I need to trust God in the middle of my circumstances, and I definitely try my hardest to let it go. But one of my biggest ways of letting things go has always been writing about them. So there you have it. I write about them, complain about them, then get up from the computer knowing that now other people can share my burdens a little better because they've seen inside my head for a minute (yikes! scary place, I know!), and then I go make dinner and deal with a whole bunch more poop and don't worry about my house anymore. That day.

Okay, that minute.

Fine, Second.

Oh well, it all works out in the end. Anyway, I'm not crazy depressed, and I don't need the name of your shrink, I just need to be able to live through what I'm living through. And this is how I do it. I love you all for being my devoted readers and hope that you won't feel compelled to send me your leftover, half-chewed anti-depressants or half-drunk bottles of happy juice (i.e., Dr. Pepper) (wait, why would you ever send me those things??); just read my blog and comment and send me more e-hugs than you otherwise would while we're going through this time. We'll get through it. We know that. It's just that the only way through it is through it. And that's the frustrating part.

Now...(!)...off to more poop!

Joeyland: The Weirdest Place On Earth

2009-10-08T16:44:00.000-07:00

Joey walked out the other day with a large, raised scratch on his face. It was about 4 inches in length. I was genuinely concerned. Our conversation was as follows:

Me: Joey, what happened to your face?
J: Uh, I hit it on the piano bench. (starts pounding the piano bench with his fist)
Me: No, it looks like a scratch. What happened?
J: Uh, I scratched it. Like this! (starts rubbing his cheek on the piano bench)
Me: No, I don't think you did. How did you scratch your face? Tell me the truth.
J: Uh, I scratched it on the piano. (rubs cheek on the side of the keys of the piano)
Me: No, Joey. Tell Mommy the truth. What did you really do?!
J: Uh, I scraped it on the floor. (gets down on the floor and starts rubbing his cheek on the carpet)
Me: Joey, you are not telling me the truth! Go in your room until you can tell me what really happened.

He came out of his room a little bit later and said:

J: I scraped it on the toy shelves.
Me: Really?
J: No. Riley scratched my face.
Me: Really?
J: No. Sissy scratched me.
Me: Joey, do you really not remember?!
J: Uh, yeah, I don't remember. (runs off in the other direction, completely uncaring of the large red scratch running down the length of his cheek)

Clearly, it wasn't in the stars that I should know what happened. Sigh. It's always an adventure with that one!

Twelve on Tuesday

2009-10-06T18:21:00.001-07:00

Tuesdays (You thought it was only Mondays, didn't you?)

1. I took Joey to a doctor's appointment, and the appointment took us an hour and forty minutes.

2. Also, their air conditioner was broken in the waiting room.

3. I got everyone lunch at Sonic for being so good at the appointment, and Joey's slush (Blue Coconut) spilled all over the car (through no fault of his own).

4. I got a call from an unknown telemarketer/weirdo/reject! (not named Nancy this time but Tom Davis) asking for my mom, and when I asked if I could leave her a message with who was calling, he started yelling at me and making fun of me and asked me if I had ever talked on the phone before. Then he hung up.

5. I opened up a new bag of flour to put some flour in my sauce for the chicken I was cooking for dinner, and a whole bunch of little bugs crawled out.

6. My sister-in-law said she could see my underwear through my skirt--that I had been wearing all day.

7. I started a fire in the oven, though not on purpose. Pete had spilled butter in there this morning when he was making his famous Cowboy Bread, and it started a fire when I preheated the oven to make some awesome chicken. My brother and I watched the flames until they went out.

8. Joey dipped his hands in his milk cup and dripped milk on the table. Pete made him get down, and as Pete was trying to clean it up, he (Pete) spilled Joey's milk all over the table and the floor.

9. Tom Davis called again and promptly hung up when I said, "Tom! I'm so glad you called me back!" (I really did say that. But he didn't seem to like it too much.)

10. After getting the milk cleaned up, Skylar was pouring herself a glass of water and spilled all over the floor.

11. Joey licked the roll of toilet paper tonight as he was getting ready for bed. You wouldn't think it could get to this level on a regular Tuesday night, but it so did. Feel free to ask him why he did it. Be my guest. Please.

And to top it all off........

12. I walked in on my sister-in-law going to the bathroom. In my own house. I didn't apparently remember the meaning of a closed bathroom door.

Well, folks, that's my Tuesday. How was yours?

Oh man, I'm going to bed.

P.S. I called the police about Tom Davis. I so did. Go ahead and try to prank call me. I dare you. Just do it. It'll really make my day.

The Foreclosure Post: Conclusion

2009-10-02T14:48:00.000-07:00

Finally, we come to the conclusion! I have contemplated removing this entire series of posts because it's not very pretty, and I don't even like to reread them, so I can't imagine you do. But like it or not, it was/is a part of our lives, and I never know who else will be going through the same things. Maybe you can learn from our mistakes and prevent going down the same road. Or maybe there is nothing you can do to prevent it, and then you can come and read this and at least you will know that someone understands what you're going through.

Click here for previous posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

We were criticized for going on WIC so we could buy groceries, for using the state’s health care, for putting loans in deferment as often as we could. We were just trying to stay afloat! It really didn’t work, though. Eventually, we pulled out the credit cards again to buy groceries and gas—things we never had enough money for. We felt guilty if we went out to eat and spent $8 for the whole family’s meal because there wasn’t the money for it. We felt guilty for buying diapers because there wasn’t the money for it. My stomach churned as I got up to the register at the grocery store. If I spent more than $25 a week on groceries, I would go home and melt down because I knew we couldn’t afford it. We had three kids and a dog, and I felt guilty if I spent $25 a week on groceries! Going to Walmart was even worse. If I had to buy someone new shampoo and dog food and toilet paper, I would freak out! $50! I can’t spend $50 here! I have like negative $500 a month at this point! I can’t spend what I don’t have. Enter the credit card. You can criticize, but at the time, it seemed like we were just going through a down-spell. We would be back on our feet shortly and pay off all of the debt. Pete was actively looking for another job, I was actively looking for a job (which I was also criticized for—don’t I see the importance of staying at home and raising my kids?? Here’s a hint: YES! I see the importance, but I also see the importance of them eating. It’s kind of important to me. I don’t know why.) Nothing came up. No one even called either of us back. For months, this went on, and finally we were at the breaking point. We realized that there was no “solution” in sight, and we had to make a crucial decision to cut something out. There was nothing left. So we prayed about it, we sought wise counsel from our parents and some dear friends, and we stopped paying the mortgage.

I should also mention that I called all of our creditors regularly, asking them to lower payments, to lower interest rates, to work with us in some way. We were occasionally given a lower interest rate on a card, but then it would go back up again when I would be a few days late on a payment because Pete’s check hadn’t come through yet. I called the mortgage department monthly and let them know we were in big trouble—couldn’t they start working with us now so we didn’t go into default? The response I received was always the same: a snort in laughter, then No, why would we work with you as long as we’re getting our money? We won’t start working with you until you default. I would ask, Are you telling me to default on my loan? They would answer, I can’t tell you that, ma’am, I can just tell you we won’t work with you until you do.

Now, all of that sounds really negative so far, but we also had the chance to witness little miracles during that time. We had several people do wonderful things for us (sometimes even as a sacrifice to themselves). My in-laws bought us groceries every time they came to visit—even the big Costco trip to buy diapers and things that would last us a long time. They helped us fix things around the house that we couldn’t afford to fix. They were such a life-saver! My mom and sister bought clothes and shoes for the kids because we couldn’t. Every new season, they would take care of getting the kids what they needed. We were given many hand-me-down clothes from many people that kept our kids wearing things that fit. We were given old furniture and other cast-offs that were in great condition so I didn’t have to shop for things for the home. We were often treated to eat out with friends because they knew we couldn’t go otherwise. It was a time to really see the blessings of having a community surrounding us, and we were blessed by that. But we were also so tired of living that way that we knew we had to change something. We began to see that nothing would change unless we changed something. If we added all of our other bills together at that point (including electricity and water), it would not quite have been enough to make our budget balance. And then we would have been holding onto a house without electricity and water. That was when and why we decided to cut out our mortgage.

Do you know what I did that first month we didn’t pay the mortgage? (Cutting it out just balanced our very bare-bones budget, it didn’t give us any extra. It just meant that we could actually afford our gas and groceries and trip to Walmart. That was amazing for me.) I went to Target and bought Pete two new bags of underwear; I bought each of the kids a pack of socks, and I bought Skylar a new pack of underwear. I felt so lavish that day! I hadn’t been able to replace the things we had for years that had become holey in the last year and a half, and I hadn’t been able to buy the kids the next size of socks, so they were constantly complaining of their socks being too small. What a beautiful day that was to actually put it on the debit card and know there was money behind it this time.

That bliss carried me through the stress of the next few months trying to come to a decision with the bank about the house. We tried to find a payment plan that would work for us, but they offered us one that was only $200 lower than our original payment—still much too high. Then they told me I had filled out the paperwork incorrectly because I showed a $1400 deficit every month (when you added in the mortgage). I said, No, that’s correct. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all these months that you haven’t been listening. Thanks for getting the message now. In the end, since we couldn’t afford the package they offered, we weren’t “eligible” for any other offers because that was our one shot. We were repeatedly told, I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. I said, so you’re saying that even though the news says that you will do anything to keep people in their homes, that you will lower interest rates and lower principle, that you will bend over backwards to keep people from foreclosing, there is nothing you can do to help me? That’s right, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do unless you take the package you’ve been offered. Well, I can’t afford the package you offered. Well, then, have a nice day. Um, yeah, you too.

So here we are. We’ve been taken in by my mom, and now instead of providing clothes for the kids, she’s providing bedrooms and a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and backyard. I got a job 2 weeks before we had to move out of our house, and I worked that through the summer to boost our income. Pete got a new job in July, and that has been an amazing change! He is making enough that we can put some away in savings and pay extra towards our credit cards every month to start to reduce the mountain of debt we’re under. We love that feeling, but the trade-off is that we have foreclosure on our record. We are living with my mom and bringing our 3 kids in to destroy her home for her. Those things don’t feel very good, but they are much less horrible than the stress of trying to make ends meet.

Here’s my question for you: what would you have done differently? Where would you have changed things so that it was all roses and sunshine at the end? And if you can’t find a good answer to that, then please don’t judge me for being in this position.

I think that through all of this, we have wanted to tell society (and especially fellow Believers) that being judged hurts! Sometimes I know I think that my attitudes toward other people really don't matter. I can think mean thoughts about them in my heart, and it doesn't really affect them. Being on the other side of the "right" decisions/outcomes have opened both Pete's and my eyes to how much that can hurt! The worst part of it was that people didn't ask us why, they just assumed that we had made horrendous mistakes (which we probably did) and weren't seeking God to get out of them (which we were). No one could really know all the everything we put into our decisions. Even after reading this 94-page document, you still can't know all that went into it.

I think most of us are the same in our desire to do the right, responsible, "Christian" thing and have amazing results. If we get bad results, I know sometimes they are our just rewards for making bad decisions, but sometimes they are just the cycle of life. And sometimes they are a major lesson from God about what you believe about your life and how much you really trust Him. We've gotten some of those, and I hope we come out on the other side being better for it.

I'm writing this partially to get it all off my chest, partially to warn against judging others, and partially to encourage all of us to continue to help out in our community. There is no government program that can take the place of helping provide food or clothing or shelter for someone else. Those things are up to us. We know how the gifts we've received have changed us, and we want to be a part of bringing that joy to others as well. We are learning so much about what it means to truly be the body of Christ.

The Foreclosure Post: Decision 4

2009-10-02T14:47:00.000-07:00

This is the fourth decision that led to our Foreclosure. If you missed the other parts, you can get to them here.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Decision #4: Using our credit cards again. Again, I won’t fight you on this one. It’s not good money management, I know. But here’s my question: what would you have done? How would you have made money appear out of thin air? Pete wasn’t allowed to get a second job based on his contract with Country. I was pregnant and just having a baby and did what I could do to help out with money, but it wasn’t ever worth it financially to put all the kids in daycare for me to get a full-time job. Although I did look into it several times. There was a feeling of desperation, an I-have-to-do-something-to-fix-this! feeling that never left either one of us alone. And the whole time we felt like God was saying, No, this is where I have you. Just rest in me. Pete took a day of solitude to seek God about whether he was in the right place. Should I stay at a job that doesn’t even start to meet my family’s needs? He came back fully convinced that yes, this was where he needed to be. This was where God had put him. And the money at Country, instead of getting better as promised, slowly got worse and worse. If you didn’t meet your quotas, they started docking your regular paycheck too. So although the regular paycheck wasn’t enough to make our ends meet, we were really scrimping to try to make it. Then they started taking even more out when Pete wasn’t meeting his quotas. There wasn’t anything else to cut out.

The Foreclosure Post: Decision 3

2009-10-02T14:43:00.000-07:00

For the first part of The Foreclosure Posts, click here.
For the second part, click here.

If you want the third part, you're in the right place.

Decision #3: Using credit cards that we couldn’t pay off. You got me on that one. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m not going to even try to say that was the "right" or "best" decision. I am just going to offer you the insight so you can stop thinking of us as horrible people (not that you, dear reader, actually think of us as horrible people, but you know, some people really do). We started using credit cards at the end of Pete’s school to make up the difference in what we needed for living expenses and what was offered by the bank. We had never before carried a balance, but then we did. We planned to pay them off when Pete got out of school and landed a great job with his so-important-to-the-job-market degree. The job he got was at the same salary my dad was making when he got out of college so many years ago. It’s odd how the housing market went up but the salaries haven’t. Anyway, you can never blame your situation on the economy, I understand that. I’m saying we were naïve in the way we thought about a job and salary. When he was out of a job between Penney’s and Country, we rapidly exhausted our savings account that we had built. Then the pay check at Country was a good deal less than what he was making at Penney's, so there was no extra to put back into savings. We knew the job at Country wouldn’t meet our budget needs, but like I said, it was the only one that was offered, and something is better than nothing, right? Also, in his interview, Pete gave them his salary requirement, and they told him in no uncertain terms that he would definitely make that in the first year with what he made on commissions. You might have instantly known they were lying, but we didn’t. It seemed feasible. In fact, it is feasible for the right person. It just didn’t work for Pete because he didn’t want to lie to sell insurance. There's not much else I can say about that.

The Foreclosure Post: Decision 2

2009-10-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

For the first part of the Foreclosure Posts, click here.

Decision #2: Buying a house that we couldn’t afford. You think that, I know you do. I even had one telemarketer give me a lecture when I told him I wasn’t going to give to the Canine Fund this year because we were foreclosing on our house. I meant it to say, Look, we’re really in bad shape here! He took it as an opportunity to lecture me on the evils of thinking we can afford more than we can. That’s the trouble with having that mindset, he said. It always ends up giving you just what you deserve in the long run. So I ask you, what if we could afford the house when we bought it? You can definitely say we were naïve enough to think that our income would only go up from that point. We bought just at the upper level of what was “acceptable”, with a house payment at 31% of our income, but we were still in that limit that’s considered prudent. We figured we could only go up from here: the house would appreciate in value, the job would give a promotion, the kids would eventually grow up allowing me to bring in more of a secondary income. In reality, NONE of those things happened. Our kids refused to grow up, even though we kept asking them and asking them. Pete was more or less forced out of his job at Penney’s, and he took the famous job at Country Financial after much prayer (and it being the only job offered to him in three months). Would you have turned it away? Would you have held out for something better? At that point with five mouths to feed in our family, a house payment, and killer debt from our time in school, taking the job seemed like the only decision to make. This was the vast continuation of the Fall of the Deegan Empire.

The Foreclosure Post

2009-10-02T12:25:00.000-07:00

Today, we dealt again with our house issues, and I found it raised a huge stinky pile of emotions in me. I am upset about losing the house, and I am angry at the way we are stigmatized because of our decisions. I am also angry with the constant ads that the banks want to save your house for you--and that there is a program for EVERYONE! I am pretty sure you are not the one who was doing the stigmatizing (man, that's a great word!), but it helps me to write about it. And, yes, there is a program available for us. It's called foreclosure.

Warning: This post is long and involved.* It is a little like airing my dirty laundry all over the room. But sometimes (only sometimes) that's the only way laundry can get clean is if it actually comes out of the laundry basket. (Pete is thinking, yeah, I wish you would take that to heart more often about the real laundry, Christie!)

Anyway, here it is. Read it if you have the time and the stomach. Otherwise, just pass and wait for two years before I post something else. Ha. That'll teach 'em.

We have learned through this process that all of those tricks and programs the bank supposedly has may not actually help anything. We have been shoved full of idealisms that the government will fix things, that our bank will fix things, that someone, anyone, will step in at the last minute and change our situation around. This I have found to be utterly false for me (maybe it is true for you, I don’t know). I know we have gotten a lot of judgment for foreclosing (or at least being in the process) on our house, and that has deeply affected me. I wanted to clue you in on how we got there in the first place. It wasn’t our long-term goal to foreclose on our house, let me assure you of that. These are the decisions that I see that led to the Fall of the Deegan Empire and the ones that have come under the most scrutiny.

Decision #1: Pete going back to school to finish his degree. We took out loans to live on because he did 41 credits in one year to finish it all up at once. Enough said about the credits. The reason why we didn’t do school part time and work part time was because we had seen several friends do that and saw the strain it put on their marriage and family. We had only one kid at the time, but we were pretty sure we would have more before too much longer, and we wanted to both be there for them. I don’t regret this decision. Also, our marriage grew in amazing ways because of that year for Pete. It was incredible the way he was able to have time to spend with the Lord and in his classes, and apply what he learned to our marriage. We wonder sometimes in what kind of position we would be if we hadn’t had that beautiful year. However, we had no debt before then. The school loans from his year in school are what kill us every month, not to mention that was the first time in our lives we started carrying a balance on our credit cards. That was where the Fall began.

*Correction: It WAS long and involved. Due to the enormous length of the post, I have split it up into 5 parts. Hopefully that makes it a little easier to get through.

The Wicked Post!!

2009-09-24T17:57:00.000-07:00

So that one night...the night we went and saw Wicked? I finally have the pictures for you. Pictures of my dress and the Thai food and my handsome hubby...

Don't tell anyone, but I just put on a movie for the kids so I could come in here and upload pictures to my blog so you would have them right away. Yes, I still have to make dinner and fold my laundry, but clearly, pictures won out. Well, I hear the movie ending, so I'm going to leave you with this:

We were really there. You now know for sure that I am not making it up.

This is my dress--and I am conveniently holding my program in front of it so you can't actually see it. All these months...

Well, that's the best I can do. At least it was an awesome show. Maybe I'll get that dress out again and take some more pictures so you can really see it.

No, probably not. That was kind of your one chance.

Sorry for you that you missed it.

Help! I've Fallen Under the Laundry Pile, and I Can't Get Up!

2009-09-22T20:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay. I know that I have been absent for a really long time. It's not my fault, I promise. I'll tell you whose fault it is.

1. Someone dumped a whole bunch of crap on my desk. I can't think with it there, but I can't ever seem to get it cleaned off. If I could, I would sit here and write to you. I'm almost sure of it.

2. Someone put laundry baskets full of clean clothes in my bedroom and dumped a huge pile of not-yet-matched-up/my-match-got-eaten-by-the-neighbor's-dog socks on my floor (yes, on my floor!), and I haven't sorted through them.

3. Pete clued me in on the secret that he has access to EBSCO through work, and I can access EBSCO here at my house. It doesn't count as thinking to sit and read six million articles about random scientific things in a day. And make notes about them. And try to change the world. I love EBSCO.

4. I started homeschooling Skylar and Joey three weeks ago, and it takes up 92% of my time and 114% of my energy in a given day. But at least we have fun.*

5. Speaking of fun, I went to Women's Retreat with my church this past weekend and had a ton of it. My camera was 99.5% full when I walked in because I STILL can't find my cord to take the pictures off and put them on the computer, so I still have pictures on the camera from my wicked Wicked dress that I can't delete because you need to see them, but I also can't take new pictures of what is going on in my life. It's a mess.

6. My sister moved far far away, so I've been a little mopey. I'm entitled. Give me a break.

Well, those are my reasons for not blogging more often. If you don't like them, go get hooked on someone else's blog.

P.S. I miss blogging too. I hope that someday I'll be back here and be able to have a coherent thought in the midst of all of my clutter. And also that I will find my camera cord and give the people what they want--Freedom! No, wait. They already have that.** Green apple bubble gum at half price! No, wait. Who cares about having that?! Pictures!! That's what the people want.

*We seriously do. Last week, we went to the Museum of Natural History and looked at dinosaur bones and ancient Native American potteries. I love museums.

**At least some of us do. And no, I'm not making cracks about this nation, I'm just saying: I know some people who live places where they don't have freedom. I'm thankful to not be in their shoes in many ways.