This is The Thing...

The Summer Thing

2010-08-22T21:31:00.008-05:00

So, there's no denying it now. Summer. is. over. This has been one of the best summers in recent history (which, I might add, is fleeting) and I've really tried hard to ignore the fact that I have a real job to return to in August. But I've been feeling guilty, too, because I haven't done a darn thing (that's almost true) this summer to prepare for teaching this fall. What is more accurate, I guess, is that I haven't done as much as I usually do to prepare for August. So I'm feeling the need to show some sort of productivity from the last 70 days of summer vacation (I feel a Phineas and Ferb title sequence coming on here).

So, here's what we did:

Went to Nebraska and hung out at Mama's Casa located on the new street that has been repaved (ironically in Dad's honor).

Did some science experiments in our cool goggles. Safety first!

Coached some t-ball....Spent two weeks at swim lessons so that we could finally get the chance to jump off the diving board...

Went to a Rangers baseball game in miserable heat...

Hung out with Grandma and Bobbi at the Botanical Garden in Fort Worth...
Saw the Mighty Mississippi....

Played some t-ball...

Went to Vacation Bible School.... Played in the rain (does anyone remember what that is?)...

Celebrated Peyton's birthday, and Presley's birthday....

And...went to Denise's to swim, went to Stovall park pool to swim, went to Randol Mill park to swim, attended the Texas PTA conference, worked on PTA stuff for 2010 and 2011, painted my classroom walls...cleaned up a half a gallon of red paint in the hallway outside of my classroom....ran with Mary and Karen...tried Insanity for the first time....worked on my Mary Kay business...helped many girls with their volleyball skills...helped Denise's girls with their volleyball skills...Parker lost two teeth...got all of our family pictures taken and out of the way...worked on Presley's scrapbook...played with the kids. A lot. And that, my friends, might have been the best part of all.

Have a great fall, y'all.

More One Things

2010-07-12T15:10:00.011-05:00

When Denise asked me a couple of days ago who's first year went the fastest, I really did have to work at trying to remember what Parker's first year was like, when he was the only child and the center of our universe, or Peyton's first year, when our house was totally insane with a toddler and an infant, or even Presley's first year, even though quite recent, really seemd like a blur.
So I thought it might be fun to look at all three kids' first years. Here are some photos (not all of them great, that's for sure) of the kids. And we're not comparing here, folks. Just considering. Just for fun. All in fun.
As infants: Parker, Peyton, and Presley

At five-six months: Parker, Peyton, and Presley

And at a year or so....

And look how I'm refraining from giving you the low down on each and every picture! I really am trying to work on my brevity. Truly.

(But I can't help but add that the one-year picture of Parker is really when he was 15 months old and had just busted his head open while we were playing chase in the living room and had to have seven stitches. But I had no pictures in digital format from his first birthday party. (Live and learn. Live and learn.) And the picture of Peyton at six months might be one of my top ten pictures of the kids. I love her big smile. And it was really hard to choose pictures to include for Presley because she makes these crazy faces and with each one she looks like a different kid.)

The One Thing

2010-07-11T21:17:00.011-05:00

It will be official soon. At 9:37 tonight, Presley will have achieved her one-year birthday.

And other than that, I am totally speechless. Last night Denise asked me if Presley's first year has gone faster than Parker's or Peyton's. And I was dumb-founded. I didn't even know what to say. I couldn't even calculate in my head how time went by before Presley was here.

So instead of my blah blah blahing, here's the story of her birthday cake:

As soon as we put the cake in front of Presley, her hands plunged into the middle of the cake. ALL the way through the cake. She was up to her arms in cake, and, oh, how the big kids laughed at her! She was so proud of herself for entertaining them that I think she completely forgot that she had sticky goo all over her fingers.

Pat put some frosting in her mouth, and so did Jina, but she acted like she couldn't figure out how to get her hands out of the cake and into her mouth.

So she dove right in, mouth first.

And she was happy...

Kinda like the way she makes me. Happy.

A NotSoBrief Brief

2010-07-09T14:05:00.006-05:00

Last weekend, we took an extended weekend trip to visit Patrick's brother, Eric, and his step-mother, JoAnn, in Missouri. Here are the basics:

Spent two hours packing the clothes, diapers, food, eating utensils/gear, diapers, videos, coloring books, markers, crayons, pencils, books, and the rest of the house so that we could live for four short days away from the house. Left the house 45 minutes after we planned on leaving. Stopped by the school to fax in our kids' claim for two free tickets to a Ranger's game. Got back on the road and realized that I forgot to pack my bathing suit. Went back to the house and got my bathing suit. Ended up wearing my bathing suit for one short hour Saturday morning.

Drove to Missouri. Saw a plethera of roadside vegetable and fruit stands. Promised myself that I'd buy some fresh vegetables and fruit from a roadside stand. Never stopped at a stand to buy vegetables or fruit. Ate at Burger King instead.

Began reading Confessions of a Shopaholic. Realized that I will probably never be considered a shopaholic. Finished the book in three days. Nearly abandoned my family in the process. Borrowed Shopaholic Ties the Knot from JoAnn. Finished it on the drive home from Missouri.

Went for a run Friday morning. Saw as many fields of crops as I did manicured lawns. Remembered why I love small towns in the midwest. Didn't die from heat stroke on my run. Remembered why I love summers north of the Red River.

Saw the Mississippi River at Cape Giradeau. Couldn't go near the river banks because the flood gates were closed. Wandered along the historic flood wall and railroad tracks. Found a dead beaver. Took a picture of the dead beaver. Wandered around the shops and restaurants. Found an antique store. Saw military displays. Saw clothes displays. Tried on hats with the kids. Laughed when Parker wore the ladies hats. Found the most beautiful antique wardrobe I've ever seen. Found Fisher-Price toys that had become distant but good childhood memories. Found an old play kitchen set like my cousins used to have. Remembered playing with toys. Remembered working in an antique store. Walked out without buying a darn thing. Reinforced my prediction that I will never be a shopaholic.

Ate at a restaurant and brewery that overlooked the Mississippi. Told the kids to keep their feet off the seats. Told the kids to stop fighting. Told the kids to drink their milk. Told the kids again to stop climbing on the seats. Tried to get Presley to eat her baby food that she wasn't interested in . Tried to quiet Presley's high-pitched screams that were amplified by the high-ceilings and empty restaurant. Never succeeded in keeping Presley quiet or finishing her lunch. Fed her part of Peyton's pizza and Parker's corndog instead.

Ordered a rasberry wheat beer. Hated the rasberry wheat beer. Begged Patrick to try it. Was disappointed when Patrick hated the rasberry wheat beer. Begged Patrick to choke it down so that we wouldn't be more of a nuisance to the restaurant.

Saw a sign for a winery on the way back to Sikeston. Travelled farther off the beaten path than we expected to find the winery. Saw more corn fields, soybean field, and milo fields. Remembered again why I love the midwest. Drove on a one-lane road to get to the winery. Got a closer view of the Mississippi River than any of us really expected when we had to detour around the flooded roads. Drove through the tree-covered, shaded, hilly countryside until we reached the winery. Remembered again why I love the midwest.

Tried some adequate wines. Talked with the natives. Perused the gift shop. Bought some wine for JoAnn. Bought some wine for Mom. Bought some wine for Denise. Bought some wine for me. Bought a couple extra bottles of wine to get a discount. Bought some gifts for friends. (Maybe I am a shopaholic.) Watched Parker and Peyton play fetch with the owner's dog.

Went to Dexter for a cookout with JoAnn and Eric. Walked to Dexter's new athletic facility. Was quite impressed with Dexter's new athletic facility. Played on the playground with the kids. Took Peyton inside the gym to get a drink. Took Parker inside the gym to get a drink. Walked back to JoAnn's. Saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. Showed the dead bird to the kids. Kicked the dead bird and it hit Peyton's leg. Felt guilty for scaring Peyton. Carried Peyton for two blocks while Patrick and I compared our lists of bonehead mistakes with the kids.

Remembered the charm and friendliness of Dexter. Stopped by Marlon's old store. Remembered the charm and friendliness of Marlon. Drove back to Sikeston.

Rode with Eric through Sikeston's Sunset. Saw people wandering around. Saw overgrown lawns. Saw people running to watch a fight. Listened to Eric talk about evictions and drug dealers. Prayed for Eric's safetly. Prayed for Eric's strength. Thanked God for Eric and his work as a police officer in Sikeston.

Woke up Saturday morning and swam at the hotel's pool. Realized the pool was far from heated. Stayed until the kids' lips turned blue. Got everybody showered and dressed for the day. Realized that my last pair of socks didn't match. Mentally cursed Patrick for not being more careful when he folds socks. Wore flip-flops instead.

Went to Lambert's to eat. Waited for ninety minutes to get a table. Met some really nice bikers from Kentucky while we waited. Met a three year old girl and her eight year old brother while we waited. Tried to keep Presley from going crazy from boredom while we waited. Gave Parker and Peyton all of my quarters so that they could play games so they wouldn't die from boredom while we waited. Took pictures of Parker catching the hot throwed rolls. Ate some rolls. Ate some fried okra. Ate some of the kids' roast beef and chicken and dumplings. Was too full to even eat the chicken salad that I ordered.

Stopped by Brett and Christy's. Saw his precious daughter Emma. Saw his precious daughter Emma love on Presley. Saw his precious daughter Emma play with Parker and Peyton like they had been life-long friends. Thanked God that Patrick has really good life-long friends.

Stopped by JoAnn's again. Told her good-bye. Almost choked on my Cheerios when she talked about a visit to our house.

Went to see the fireworks. Visited some more with Brett and Christy. Saw Abby and Carter. Watched all the kids play in the grass. Hoped that they weren't getting bitten by mosquitoes. Told the kids to stay out of the grass so they wouldn't get bitten by mosquitoes. Swatted mosquitoes away from Presley. Swatted mosquitoes away from my arms, legs, neck, face, and every other exposed body part. Took pictures of the kids playing in the grass.

Woke up Sunday morning and began packing our house back into the Durango. Mentally cursed Patrick for being able to sleep through it all. Rode as the co-pilot and began reading. Stopped to eat at Burger King again. Rode the rest of the way as a co-pilot. Finished my book. Nearly abandoned my children in the process. Thanked Patrick for driving the whole way so I could finish my book.

Got home and unpacked our house. Got ready for the week. Thanked God for a safe trip and a great family.

The Coaching Thing

2010-06-25T17:23:00.003-05:00

Musings from a has-been

I have this love/hate relationship with coaching. I love it, and sometimes, I hate that I love it.

In college when I was contemplating the rest of my life, I saw two distinct visions for my future. In one, I was a social worker, had a happy little family with happy little children and enjoyed my happy little life. It looked safe and secure and fulfilling enough. In the other picture, I saw myself as a teacher and a coach. My life looked wildly energetic, intense, and dynamic. There was a husband, but no kids. And even though I tried to picture a future with teaching and coaching and kids, I just was never able to really wrap my mind around it all. ALL of it at the same time happenning all at once ALL of it.

Obviously, I chose to teach and coach. And all this time I have been confident that God has put me where he needs me to be, but somewhere and sometime after I married Patrick, kids started to come into focus. Now, it took about three years (I still marvel at young married couples who are able to start having kids immediately after the wedding...how do they have it all figured out so quickly?), but soon enough we were pregnant with Parker and holy crap! What about the "picture"? I was a head volleyball coach, our team had come from not even winning 10 games our first season together to qualifying for the regional tournament and I had my doubts....was I really going to be able to maintain the same amount of energy, focus, enthusiasm, and intensity for my team while also raising a child? or children? I'm not quite sure what it is in my brain (or my heart) that won't allow my mind to see it all together at the same time--coaching kids and raising my own kids--but it has always been a road block for me...

Funny how things happen. The spring after Parker was born, Patrick was offerred the job at Martin. I was able to tag along to teach English. Even though I hated leaving the girls who had worked so hard and gotten so far, I thank God for openning the door that led us to Arlington. I was hired as an English teacher with no coaching duties, and the blessing was that I was able to get my feet under me as a mom. Not that "just teaching" is a piece of cake, but the hardest thing about coaching, I think, is the scheduling. We were able to find the most fabulous care-givers in Nanny and Shawna and Patrick was coaching and our lives seemed to resemble normalcy and order.

But I missed coaching.

So the next year, as I was just a few months from delivering Peyton, the opportunity arose for me to resume coaching. And since we now had found good friends and good people to help us with the scheduling, coaching seemed like a good idea.

And it was, until Parker started school last year.

I felt like I was back at square one, unable to wrap my mind around teaching and coaching and family and now kids' school ALL at the same time happenning all at once. It was overwhelming. I mean, I could have figured it all out...if Patrick would have agreed to give up HIS coaching obligations. Because let me tell you, volleyball season was a snap. Leaving for school before the kids got up, coming home after they went to bed wasn't really that hard for me. Yeah, I missed the kids. But as far as stress? Little. Patrick took them to the babysitter or preschool. Patrick made their lunches. A lot of the time, Patrick fixed dinner. I was the accessory parent. What was hardest was when Patrick's season started rolling mid-October. Then, not only was I responsible for coaching and teaching, but I also acquired all of the kid responsiblities that Patirck had taken on for me while I was coaching volleyball. Then, two weeks after Patrick would start wrestling, girls' basketball would begin and it would begin BEFORE volleyball was over. Two sports (and for three weeks, three sports) going on at one time, plus all of the responsibility of making sure the kids were picked up on time, fed, bathed, and put to bed at a decent time was overwhelming. But I used to say, for as hectic as our lives were for the four months that Patrick and I were both in season, it was worth it for the "down-time" in the spring, when there was no after school practice, no games, and only three classes to plan, teach, and grade. I felt like it was then that I was able to catch up with my own kids.

As I began anticipating Parker starting "real" school, it became more apparent to me that I needed to be more available to our own kids. (Not to mention some serious--and not so kind at the time--I might add--nudges from God.) The kids were beginning to play t-ball and soccer, and I felt like I needed to be in the stands cheering on their teams instead of Parker and Peyton being drug to game after game cheering on my teams. (Not that it was a horrible life for them. Coaches and athletes are the kind of people that I want my kids to have as role models. Peyton loves going to games, and she and Parker always seemed to latch on to one of the kids from each team. And we still go to lots of high school games--it's just that now we all get to be spectators.) Parker was going to start school and I wanted to be able to focus on helping him adjust to the demands of school. And, we were pregnant with Presley; I wanted to have time to spend with her and enjoy her. Even though Peyton was a little disgusted with me for "quitting" and Parker still talks about how maybe I can have a desk in the coaches' office again someday, I just can't wrap my mind around how I can be the mom I need to be while also being the coach I want to be.

So, all of that to say I was a coach, then I wasn't, then I was, and now I'm not.

Do I miss it? Of course. Or, rather, I miss a lot of it. I don't miss narrow-minded and rigid parents, silly rules, and the drama that always comes with it. But when Denise approached me with the opportunity to coach a club team during March and April, I jumped at the chance. When a kid asks me to go to the gym to help them with their skills, I'm on it. It is a breath of fresh air to get into the gym and be around the kids and the sport. I have found that there are more than enough opportunities to get my coaching fix.

And one, namely, is t-ball.

When we (I) signed Parker and Peyton up for summer t-ball a couple of months ago, I checked the box that asked, "Are you willing to coach?" I figured with two kids on the same team we (Patrick) should step up and help in some way. Patrick had helped coach Parker's t-ball team last summer; he had coached his soccer team last fall. I checked the box, with a written-in addendum that we (Patrick) would coach ONLY if no one else wanted to.

Apparently no one else wanted to and Patrick was serious last summer when he said "I will never ever ever coach t-ball again" because now I am the coach of the Riverbandits 5 and 6 year old t-ball team.

I told the parents from the get-go that I'd coached high school kids for a long time, but have never coached 5 and 6 year olds. And let me tell you, it has been a humbling experience. Practices are chaotic. We can't run the bases without someone falling down. Haven't had a practice yet where someone doesn't cry. Games are a mess. There is dirt everywhere mostly because the kids can't keep from throwing it or kicking it or rolling around in it. I don't even go into the dugout because if a kid is on the field--defensively or offensively--he/she needs me to be out there, too. And it's dang hot. And talk about feeling ineffective as a coach. And did I mention it's dang hot?

So here I am, back to the thing I hate to love. But it's fun. The kids are silly. And they are sweet. And I think they are having a good time. For me, it's fun to be back in the game.

Whether they are learning anything remains to be seen....

The Play Thing

2010-06-16T14:43:00.002-05:00

It is summertime (Halleluiah!) and I am totally getting a kick out of being able to really watch my kids play. Here is what transpired yesterday:
1. When Presley woke up from her afternoon nap, I was in the middle of scrubbing the kitchen floor. So I sent Peyton to Presley's room to entertain her until I finished. The next thing I knew, Peyton had switched Presley's CD player from the soft little lullabies that she sleeps to over to the Mexican radio station. And Peyton pumped. up. the. volume. All I could understand amidst the polka-sounding music was an "amigo" here and there. Don't ask me what they were singing about, but it sure sounded happy. Pretty soon Parker had joined Peyton in dancing around the room to the music while Presley stood in her crib shaking the railings. Then, for at least ten minutes after I turned the music off, Parker and Peyton were running around the house shouting "Viva Mexico!"
2. Later in the afternoon, Parker and Peyton were "playing" brother and sister (don't ask me what they think they are imagining). Parker comes out of the kitchen with an old play cowboy hat upside down in his hands, with a dollar and a quarter in it, and tells Peyton, "Look, Sister, we have one dollar and twenty-five cents!" Were they panhandling under I-20? Lord only knows.
3. We have been steering Presley towards playing with things that she can practice standing next to. Last night I brought her little table toy into the living room to play while I cleaned up from supper. I looked up only to find that she had shoved Parker's dinosaur container next to the small table and was using it to get on top of the table. Daredevil.

Super Fan

2010-02-20T11:48:00.004-06:00

Parker has been a little bit (a lot) figity in kindergarten the past couple of weeks, so it prompted me to ask him how he behaves during the one minute of silence that Texas public schools are required to hold during the school day. Kids (and teachers) can pray, meditate, sleep, whatever--as long as they are still and quiet (or that's the intention, anyway). So, do you think that Parker can sit almost completely still and quiet for one. whole. minute?

I guess the answer is "yes," or so he says.
Apparently this is how he spends it, or so he says:

Notice how his hands are in the "double Warrior" sign--the sign that Martin Warriors hold up during the school song, game point in volleyball, or any other time that we need to show our support for our Warriors.

Parker is a Martin Warrior Super Fan.

Last fall the football team made playoffs and made a historic three-round run. We went to almost every single regular season game and the kids loved it. One of Parker's friends from kindergarten had an older brother that played on the team, Peyton loves to play with all the other coaches' kids, and after the games, the kids always went down on the field to run and play and wrestle around. I knew the kids liked the games, but I didn't realize just how much they loved the Warriors.

The second round of playoffs took us out to Abilene to played the famous Permian High School. When the Warriors took the field, our six flag runners donned huge flags with an "M" "A" "R" "T" "I" "N" on each flag.

"MARTIN!" Parker screams.

When Permian ran out on the field, their flag runners carried three flags--each of them with a big silver "P" on it.

Parker yells: "P! P! P!? That spells nothin'! HA! Permian can't even spell!"

The next week we were back in the metroplex playing against the to-be state champions, the Trinity Trojans. Unfortunately, we were behind most of the game. In the middle of the second quarter, Parker grabs his bottle of water, downs the last few swallows, and then crushes the empty bottle with his hands.
"Take that, Trinity!" he screams.

Quite the taunter, I must admit.

So I guess it's quite fitting that Parker "represent" during the moment of silence.

Some Lovely Things

2010-02-14T22:41:00.011-06:00

Lovely Thing #1=Snow Day!

It started snowing on Thursday morning. Karen, Mary, and I were out in the clean and pristine snow at 5:30 a.m. for our run, and it really did give a whole new meaning to the terms "fun run." We were splashed by a car within the first five minutes on the road, and got splashed numerous times after, so our feet and legs were soaked, but it was worth it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

By 3:30 Thursday afternoon, Arlington ISD decided that they would cancel classes on Friday.

Yipee! I said.

Yipee! Parker said.

Even Peyton was glad to have a snow day.

Presley has been nothing but happy the past three days, so I think she was glad for it, too.

But Patrick, well, not so much.

Martin is hosting the Regional Wrestling tournament this weekend, so a change in schedule meant for a lot of adjustments on his part, a lot of time on the phone, and a whole lot of grief. Much of it came from other people who think they can run things better and apparently think that Patrick is so powerful that he can actually 1) dictate the weather, and 2) over-ride decisions made by the district superintendent and athletic director.

Who knew?

To top things off, Martin had no electricity from sometime Thursday night until this morning. Translation: more adjustments, more phone calls, more headache.

So, while we were building snowmen

tackling snowmen

playing in the snow

Patrick was spending 10 hours a day at school trying to get things ironed out for the tournament that will (finally) be held tomorrow and Tuesday.

If no one else appreciates you, honey, I do.

Lovely Thing #2=Valentine's Day

Because of the weather, Parker and Peyton's parties at school were postponed to this week. Since their parties would have been over (had traditional Texas weather had it's way) I expected today to be just an after-thought for them. So, as just another bit of evidence for my Mother of the Year nomination, I totally forgot to get the kids something until last night, when Peyton was helping me get Patrick's Valentine Basket together, and she said, "Who's going to get ME a Valentine?"

Apparently not your mother unless she can get to the store in the next twelve hours. Crap.

So Patrick made a quick stop by the store on his way home from school so that Cupid could visit the house.

But we were able to go out for dinner tonight, once Pat got home from setting things up at school.

Thank you, Regional Wrestling Tournament, for putting yet another creative stamp on our weekend.

Seven Months Old

2010-02-11T22:02:00.007-06:00

It's tough to believe that Presley is already seven months old. She's been fighting a cold off and on this winter. It seems that one weeks she is congested and yucky, and the next week she's better and back to her old self, and then the next week she's back to this cold again. She's such a trooper, though. She's not super whiny...she just wants to cuddle. Which is okay with me.

She's been busy. She's tried bananas, applesauce, pears, sweet potatoes, carrots, and green beans. She seems to like them by the second meal. I guess it just takes her little taste buds a little while to adjust.
She loves to beat up her brother.

She's sitting up all by herself.

Resting...

And she's starting to do her own laundry.

Pajama Day

2010-01-30T13:07:00.005-06:00

One of the kids' favorite things about Brennan Academy, Peyton's (and, last year, Parker's) preschool, is Pajama Day. They always have it on a Friday in January and all the kids come in their pajamas and slippers, Miss Darla and Miss Tara wear their PJs, all the kids haul in their teddy bears, loveys, or whatever else they sleep with, and the kids have a GREAT day. Last year after Pajama Day, Peyton got in the car and told me that Pajama Day was so great that she needed to write Miss Tara a thank-you note. So when we brought home the monthly newsletter that said Pajama Day would be Friday, January 29, we marked it on our calendar and first counted the Fridays until PJ Day, until this week when would could finally wrap our minds around the DAYS to Pajama Day. Peyton has had all month to deliberate on what pajamas she would wear, and finally decided on the pajamas that she got for Christmas this year. She also decided to take the pillow pet that Grandma gave her for Christmas. It's great for us, too, because we don't have to mess with wardrobe selection and subsequent fits, and for some reason, combing her hair on Pajama Day is so much easier. Go figure.

We also always stop at the donut store on the way to preschool and get donuts for all of the friends for snack. Nothing like some good sugar to start the day. And then Miss Darla and Miss Tara get the kids pizza for lunch. Yum! Grease and Carbs! And they do "preschool"-ish stuff during the day, like calendar corner, but from what Miss Darla says, it's a whole lot more laughing and giggling than what usually goes on. In fact, yesterday was filled with so much fun that Peyton said, "WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO DO WORKSHEETS!"

And, she kept this voice all. night. long. When I picked her up yesterday afternoon, she was a bit tired and forlorn, but when Miss Darla rolled her eyes in exhaustion, I knew Peyton's sadness came from the knowledge that this was her last Pajama Day at Brennan Academy EVER.

Or maybe that was my sadness....

Darla gave me a heads up--Pajama Day was wild and whooly this year, with much fun had by all. By the time we got home, Peyton had caught her second wind and was wound up to say the least. After thinking that she was big and bad enough to take her Daddy "down to the ground" to picking fights with her brother to shaking her booty at the basketball game, Peyton's sugar consumption finally gave way to calm and peaceful sleep. At 11:00 last night.

But oh, what a day.

One from the 2009 archives:

A Running Thing

2010-01-27T23:04:00.006-06:00

Last Saturday J.B. Little held their first ever Rascal Round-up. Since I had been so consumed with the Jiggle Butt Run, I barely even knew this was a race-in-the-making, and although I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't do more to support the "making" as a Parent And (not so) Active Member of the PTA, it was so much more fun participating as a runner and watching the kids do their first "real" race.

And by real, I mean Peyton didn't whine the whole way and beg to be pushed in the stroller.

Here we are before the race:

And here are the kids--Parker's classmate Ainsley, Parker, and Peyton--with their faces painted and wild in the yard after the race. Of course, those three got more exercise jumping in bounce houses and running around AFTER the race than they did DURING the race.

The kids and Patrick ran the 1K, and the thrill of it all was that Parker and Peyton got to run on the street. Who knew that would be so exciting? Patrick said that Parker and Peyton both ran the whole darn thing, and I'm really surprised.

Considering the last time Peyton went on a run with me, it consisted of walking to the street ("We'll run when we get to the park, Mom."), walking to the park ("We'll run on the way home, Mom."), swinging in the swings and playing on the playground, and then walking home ("Could you just carry me on your shoulders, Mom?"). Good times.

I ran the 10K and it was a hilly course. It took that giant hill on Arkansas, through Veterans Park, and then the back way through DWG, otherwise known as "Bobcat Road." Some more tough hills. I was lucky enough to run with Jim, who pushed me way faster than my old and sleep-deprived legs really wanted to carry me. My legs were so cursing you Sunday morning, Jim.

But the best part of the day, by far, was the raffle for door prizes during the awards ceremony. All morning a beautiful candy bouquet tempted and teased all the young runners. It was the final prize of the day, and guess who won.....

Seriously, It's Been Too Long

2010-01-18T16:50:00.019-06:00

Here's what we've been doing lately. Well, by lately, I mean, the past 3 months.

Parker (and Peyton, and Patrick) wrapped up the fall season of soccer at Upward Soccer. We loved it. Patrick served as coach, Peyton assistant coach, and Parker as the run-around-the-field-chasing-the-ball-er. Peyton could. not. stay. off. of. the. field. So we made her the unofficial "assistant coach" to appease her.

Halloween. Parker was a green M&M, Peyton was a Pink Skittle, and Presley was a candy corn. I was Super Mom (might as well pretend, right?) and Patrick was an Army Guy. We went to Denise's for a fun costume party.

The Mud Run 2009. Sabina, Marlene, Geneice, Cara and I ran as a team and it was nasty fun. Remind, me, though, please, someone, that they syphon water out of the Trinity River to fill the mud pits. That is if I ever sign up for the madness again.

Parker ran the last 100 yards or so in with our team. He even came down on the course and coached Cara and I through an obstacle. He was really proud of his Momma.Peyton, well, not so much.

Aunt Steph came for a visit. And, by the way, she thinks Peyton is "amazing." Or so Peyton tells us.Parker was the "Lucky Ted Winner" in November, which meant he brought home Ted, Mrs. Baty's Kindergarten Class Mascot, or something like that. I'm sure Ted had a great time at our house, changing clothes about six times a day, getting fought over, and going to wrestling practice. Lucky Ted.

It also meant that Parker was the "Star Student" for the week, and we had the grand opportunity to make a poster board of all things Parker.

Lucky us.

In December, Parker turned six, and we had a Bakugan Treasure Hunt Party with all his friends. The party was great. The scavenger hunt left lots to be desired. Hence the reason I am not a Kids' Birthday Party Planner by trade.
And, finally, Christmas. First a visit to Santa...

Then, the gifts...

Our toybox runneth over....

We had lots and lots of snow in Nebraska, which is why our Christmas felt a little bit, well, off. We made it to Nebraska before the big blizzard hit, but on Christmas Eve, it was snowing and blowing so bad that Kim and Greg and the kids couldn't get from Iowa to Nebraska. We traditionally go to Christmas Eve service at church, but because the pastor comes down from Hallam, the service was cancelled. Santa usually stops in at Grandma's, but since it was snowing so bad, he had to leave the toys by the back door and then get on his way. And Norm's roads were drifted shut. We spent way too many hours shovelling snow, and many many hours inside. But we did get out my Grandma's old game of touring which Steph re-taught us all to play and we had a great time.

A Three-Month-Old Precious Thing

2009-10-12T14:40:00.004-05:00

Presley turned three months old this weekend. She is:

Sleeping consistently through the night

Eating every 3-4 hours

Smiling, and has giggled a couple of times

Starting to suck her thumb--her left thumb--and she puts her right fist behind her head like she is "striking a pose"

one of the most precious things I have ever laid my eyes on!

An Anticipated Thing--Parker's First Day

2009-08-27T13:14:00.007-05:00

Today, finally, Parker began his trek through public education. If the beginning is any indication of what is to come, Lord help us all.
This week has already come with it's share of obstacles--Parker's funky virus that was here, then gone, then here again--but we were faced with yet another when it came time to get dressed for the day.
I had picked out a pair of nice but comfortable khaki shorts and a collared shirt. It was a casual outfit, I thought, but also a little dapper-ish. He wears it to church sometimes, or out to eat if we are going somewhere nice.
He shot it down. Totally. Told me he couldn't play in clothes like that.
After all, kindergarten is all about playing. Forget reading and writing and 'rithmatic.
Obviously he's paid too much attention to what Pat wears to school every day--t-shirt and gym shorts. Because after Parker put on his chosen outfit of a t-shirt and shorts, he asked, "See Mom, doesn't this look more appropriate?"
Seriously--appropriate? Where'd that come from?
So here he is, showing off his backpack, and his kindergarten-appropriate outfit.

And here he is with his two great buddies, Maddie and Anna. What a relief to see a familiar face on your first day of school, when everybody else knows what to do and has already made friends and already knows and loves their teacher....

At least that's what I was thinking when I saw them walking up the sidewalk.

And here is Parker with his teacher, Mrs. Baty. I love her already.

Bobbi asked me last week if I would cry when I dropped Parker off for his first day. I said probably. Or perhaps cheer and do back flips all the way out of the building.

Since I was carrying two Sponge Bob umbrellas in one arm and Presley in an a infant carrier in the other, and since Peyton would have been witness to the freak that she calls her mother, I abstained from any sort of celebration.

Didn't feel much like it, anyway. Was I relieved? Yes. We got Parker to school on time this morning, delivered him safely to yet another milestone in his life.

Cause that's what this journey is so much about, anyway. God put us here to help His kids--our kids--get from one point to the next.

Sometimes those stops are significant, sometimes they aren't.
Sometimes we get there on day one, sometimes we don't arrive until day four.

I'm just glad I get to ride along.

Second Verse, Same as the First

2009-08-24T17:04:00.004-05:00

Day Two of Kindergarten will be spent, once again, on the couch in the living room. Looks like that's where we'll be riding this virus out, as the doctor told us yesterday that Parker's symptoms do not indicate a concussion, but a funky virus. We're just hoping it won't develop into the flu, which right now looks like might be the case. He finally kept down food for the first time in over 24 hours last night, so I think we're on the road to recovery.

I'm pretty positive that this illness has been worse for me than for him. I would like to say that he cried sorrowful tears at not being able to attend his first day of kindergarten, but that would be a flat out lie. To say that about his mother might be closer to the truth. A lady in the elevator at the doctor's office actually suggested that Parker could, perhaps, be faking this illness as to avoid school. Seriously? Seriously. This kid has, for the past 12 hours, puked on demand? voluntarily moaned through the night waking his father and I every hour? and was able to raise his body temperature three whole degrees on cue?!? Because if that's the case, we're not messing around with kindergarten, baby; it's straight to the big screen for us for some MON-NEY. No, if Parker really didn't want to go to kindergarten, we'd see a big fat fit on the kitchen floor before we'd see vomit on my rugs.

So stay tuned. Hopefully tomorrow we'll have good news to post!

The Dardest Thing--First (Sick) Day

2009-08-24T10:18:00.011-05:00

Here are Parker's things--his backpack filled with a rest towel, signed papers, a letter to the teacher, an extra set of clothes, along with his lunch of a peanut butter sandwich, pretzels, apple slices, pudding, and gatorade--all ready to go to Kindergarten:

Here is Parker--with a 101 degree fever, and bowl to catch his vomit--NOT going to Kindergarten:

So instead of celebrating his FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN, we are celebrating his FIRST SICK DAY of KINDERGARTEN. He started complaining of a headache last night around five, layed down and fell asleep, and woke up a few hours later vomitting. At first I thought he was just nervous for school, but then Parker and Pat reminded me that Parker had hit his head on his headboard when he went to bed last night. Concussion? We woke him several times through the night, and the vomitting stopped, but then woke up this morning with a fever. Ugh. Poor kid; it's just his luck. (He was sick on Christmas Day, even!) How awful it felt to call his elementary school this morning to report his absence, thus ruining his chance for perfect attendance for the ENTIRE year. Could life be any worse?

Peyton did go off to her first day of pre-school, which we obviously had not paid enough attention to, because as we were walking out the door, she said, "Now it can be MY special day of school."

I am so responsible for her second-child syndrome.

It's Tuesday

2009-08-04T09:15:00.003-05:00

This story actually originated last Friday, when Peyton woke up with a hacking cough. Just a cough. But as a precautionary action, we didn't allow Peyton contact with Presley. Just in case. She wasn't happy, but Pat took her and Parker to the water park to smooth things over.

By Friday night, Peyton had a 101 degree fever and hissing, wheezing breath when she went to sleep. I gave her some Tylenol and she coughed and hacked all through the night.

Day Two (Saturday), I took her to the doctor which I normally wouldn't do but a newborn in the house drives a person idiot crazy. Peyton has a nice case of croup, which the doctor treated with a prescription for a steroid (ragh!). She had to take three doses of the prescription, one per day, and so we decided that she wouldn't be allowed to hold/kiss/hug/touch/breathe on Presley until her prescription was finished. It has nearly brought the death to poor Peyton, because she is on Presley like stink on you-know-what. She can't leave her alone. She wants to help feed, bathe, change, dress, and rock that poor little baby all the time.

So here we are, it's Tuesday morning, and the first words out of Peyton's mouth were, "It's Tuesday! I can hold Presley today!" However, I have my reservations, because although Peyton's fever is gone and her orneriness is back, she still has a lingering cough, one of which she doesn't always remember to cover up to keep those nasty germs muffled inside her own germy self. So this Tuesday is bound to be another fight.

The Greatest Thing

2009-08-02T16:03:00.006-05:00

1. Bringing home a new baby.

2. Hearing Presley unintentionally giggle in her sleep.

3. Listening to Peyton's theories about the source of a baby's nourishment.
And then grimmacing when she shares those theories with our pediatrician.

4. Her grunts, groans, and otherwise sweet noises.

5. Watching Parker grow into a sweet and caring big brother.

It may not John McNally's idea of the greatest thing, but I can't think of anything better right now. This is why God allows us to pro-create, and I totally understand why He wants to call us all His (of course He doesn't have to worry about potty-training and college, either). The fog from the first week and a half is starting to thin, or perhaps I'm just getting used to functioning on 5-6 hours of interrupted sleep each night. Either way, we are simply IN LOVE with this little girl.

A Bitter-Sweet Thing

2009-07-14T11:18:00.003-05:00

A year ago today, we buried our Dad. Here's the message we delivered at his funeral--his eternal "messages" to us:

One thing about it, we will hear Dad's voice in our ears--and in our hearts--forever. There are a few quotes of Dad's that have become quite famous in our house. We'd like to share them--the clean ones anyway--with you this morning. Now let me warn you--it's not as if we always enjoyed hearing these words--this advice--from Dad. Each of us girls has a unique story that connects us to these often-heard statements. But it was through these words that Dad taught us who and what he wanted us to be about.

#1. "When was the last time you checked the oil in your car?"

Most of the time, we rolled our eyes at this comment, but here's the lesson I think he was trying to teach us: Take care of your stuff. Learn to take responsibility for how you live and what you do. Be independent.

#2. "Get back up on that horse and show him who's boss!"

Raising horses was just about as important to Dad as raising girls. When one of us would get thrown by a horse, Dad made us pull ourselves off the hard ground and get back on, no matter how scared or "hurt" we thought we were. Dad wouldn't let us let the horse win. Unfortunately for Dad, this one backfired, because he ended up raising five bossy girls. (Just ask Pat and Greg.) But more importantly, it taught us to be assertive, be leaders, and to take charge.

#3. "You gotta take the bad with the good."

Romans 5:3-5 says, "And not only that, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because suffering produces persevernce; perseveranc, character; and character, hope." Dad talked about taking the lows with the highs when we were experiencing a "bad"--a lost game, a white ribbon at the fair, an unruly child, or any other time it seemed our situation came up short of our grand expectations. It seemed that Dad knew that experiencing these struggles would teach us patience and perseverance.

#4. "If you are going to do something, do it right."

Whether sweeping the floor or accepting a new job, Dad didn't want us to do anything halfway. The lesson: Put your heart into it--whatever "it" is. Don't always look for the easy road or the shortcut. Take your time and do the job right.

#5. "Hey, ya did all right."

We heard this most of the time when we didn't do okay. For example, Denise always disqualified in the poles or barrels at the fair. Afterwards, when she would sit on her horse and pout about it, Dad would pat her on her knee and say, "Hey kiddo, you did all right." Ironically, he would never congratulate us when we really did do something extraordinary. but to Dad, you "did all right" as long as you worked your hardest and tried your best.

#6. "The wink"

Sometimes lessons didn't always come in the form of words. So often Dad's message of forgiveness, acceptance, and love came in the form of a simple wink. If there was ever one of us in trouble (and we did get into our share of trouble), at the end of the storm, we would sometimes get a simple wink from Dad. It was his way of telling us that things were okay, and that life goes on regardless of the mistakes we've made or the trouble we're in.

We won't see the wink again, or hear these words again from Dad's mouth here on earth, but--like it or not--those lessons are with us forever and worth remembering for a long time. A lot of these lessons were not always easy or fun to learn--let alone for Mom and Dad to teach. Our house was far from the textbook, model classroom to say the least. Dad made mistakes. We made mistakes. But one thing that I am sure of: God doesn't make mistakes. And for Dad,

right now, things are just as they should be.

We miss you, Oldie. Winks.

A Blessed Thing

2009-07-13T22:42:00.011-05:00

Introducing Presley Barbara Jane Dunn.

She was born Saturday night--July 11, 2009, at 9:37 p.m.; she came in weighing 7 lbs 3 oz and measuring 19 inches in length.

Her brother, Parker, told me today on the way home from the hospital that he thinks he's going to like baby Presley. This is just two short days after he snapped a popsicle stick in half and threw it across the room because "he wanted a boy!"

Her sister, Peyton, cannot keep her sticky little hands off her. I don't think there is one thing that Peyton doesn't like about Presley.

Her Daddy and I feel blessed beyond measure.

The Excuse Thing

2009-07-10T09:55:00.003-05:00

1. My camera was lost/stolen/misplaced/eaten by the dogs sometime in late March, and since I include pictures in every post, I was unable to blog-function.
2. Pat and the kids got me a new camera for Mother's Day, but I haven't had the ambition to load the pictures from the camera to the computer. Messing with all those cords and buttons makes my eyes cross.
3. Our computer was down with a virus for most of the month of May, and a good portion of June.
4. A trip to Nebraska for Dad's Memorial Trail Ride and a trip to Minnesota to see Pat's family...purely exhausting.
5. Getting the kids into their shared bedroom so I could make Peyton's old room into the baby's room about drove me off the deep end. How do you take 2x the stuff and put it in 1/2 the space? And still have some sort of semblance to organization?

It's a top five for the record books...but that's where we've been. More details later. On my agenda today is getting pictures from the camera to the computer so that maybe one day I can write a meaningful post.

On the baby front...he/she is nearly here! I have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning for a distress test on the baby. The heart rate was really low yesterday at my appointment, so they ran a distress test yesterday. The HR increased, which is a good sign, but want to make sure things stay fine. If the baby doesn't respond well tomorrow, they will induce labor then. If he/she is still doing okay, they will wait until Monday to induce. I have to just monitor kicks while I'm at home to make sure the baby stays active. So far, so good.

The Behavior Management Thing

2009-04-04T17:58:00.003-05:00

For the past several weeks I feel that all we have been doing is telling Parker "no," putting him in time out, and spanking his behind. Constantly. It begins on the way home from school, continues while I'm fixing dinner, then to bath time, and, basically, until the kid finally falls asleep at night. He's either fighting with Peyton, sassing one of us, banging his silverware on the table, climbing on the counters, making a mess in the bathroom sink, terrorizing the dogs, peeing in public, stripping the couches of their cushions and using them as a trampoline, swinging the bat inside the house, jumping around in the bathtub, fighting with Peyton, shooting his pop gun at the tv screen, tipping back on his chair at the dinner table, blowing bubbles in his milk with his straw, chasing Peyton around the kitchen counter, hanging on the doorknobs, or getting out of his bed for the millionth time at bed time. The kid is reverting back to behaviors that I thought we took care of two years ago.

But now he has a sassy mouth to go along with it, and has built up a tolerance for our discipline managment system.

And this discipline thing is exhausting to me.

One of my brilliantly wise friends, Jessica, told me about a marble jar discipline system that her babysitter uses. The kids fill up their jars of marbles and they get to choose a special treat, like going to a movie or getting a toy from the store or possibly getting mommy out of the house and sending her to the spa. :) I'd heard of this strategy a couple of other times, but didn't think it would really work. We've tried sticker charts with both of the kids but they have never worked.

Or I've never worked with them...I'll admit, I get as bored as the kids with just seeing a line of stickers compiled at the end of the day. I need something more.

But I had to try something because, like I said before, this discipline thing was kicking my butt. I was not enjoying going to bed every single night to face the Lord and say, "Forgive me for sucking as a parent! But I don't know what else to do with this child!"

I made up a general list of ten things that the kids could do to earn a marble. Parker helped me type up the list, and helped me define some of the what might be considered ambiguous terminology, like "respect" and "right" and "wrong." For example, they can get a marble for first time obedience, which is pretty cut and dried. I ask you to do something, you do it right away, you get a marble. Feeding the dogs, putting your dishes in the sink...easy. But "be respectful" can mean a lot of different things, especially to a three and five year old. I was thinking "please" and "thank you," "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir." Parker was thinking "no farting without saying excuse me" and "no tattle-telling."

So we all got on the same page, got our rules up, decorated our marble containers (which are actually recycle yogurt containers instead of jars), and got down to business. They were earning marbles left and right. We had our troubles here and there, but for the most part, the kids were almost fun to be around again. We started our campaign on a Thursday night, and by Sunday, both kids had their containers full of marbles. Peyton chose to go see "Monsters vs. Aliens" with Pat, and Parker chose to get a new bakugan (sp?) from the store.

When Parker and I got home from the store, I emptied their containers of all the marble they had earned.

Parker was less than thrilled about having to start over.

Later that night after Parker had helped Pat walk and feed the dogs, Pat told Parker he deserved a marble for doing the dog chores.

Instant whining.

"What's wrong, Parker? Don't you want to get marbles and earn another toy, or a trip to the movies?" Pat asked.

"No!" Parker said. "I'm tired of all this marble work!"

Some days, you just can't win.

The Prayer Thing

2009-04-02T19:31:00.002-05:00

Growing up, I knew three basic prayers:
1. our family dinnertime prayer, which our whole family recited together before most, if not every meal together
2. the Lord's Prayer
3. the desperate "Oh, God, help me!" or some version thereof.

Then I met Pat, who added some spice and variety to my prayer life. I would just fold my hands, bow my head, and listen to his conversation with God. I was so happy that Parker and Peyton were learning this practice from their dad, too. I love that they are comfortable enough to tell God what is on their pre-school minds.

This was until we spent the majority of last summer at home in Nebraska, and we fell back into the tried and true dinnertime ritualistic prayer.

You'd think we grew up Catholic or something.

And, since Ty, their cousin, already knew this prayer, Parker and Peyton were even more determined to learn it and use it once we returned to Texas. We can't even say "Ay-men" anymore because Ty says "Aww-men."

The kid has made quite an impact on my two.

Anyway, it wasn't until a couple of months ago that the kids started to say their own prayers at our dinnertime. A couple weeks ago, while we were waiting for everyone (Parker) to calm down, sit down, and get their fingers out of their food, Parker was blah, blah, blah-ing while Peyton had her hand folded and was ready to roll.

And with the most serious look on her face, Peyton said, "Pawkaw, Jesus really doesn't want to hear that."

The Thing Thing

2009-03-25T19:44:00.002-05:00

"This is the thing..."

I'm not sure where it came from, but I know who and when we noticed it. My sisters make fun of me because whenever we are in a serious conversation, I seem to always clue everybody into to my conclusion by saying, "This is the thing..." or "Here's the thing."

And we have had plenty of serious conversations over the past couple years. About treatments. About retirements. About surgeries, hospitals, and our parents' tendancy to try to keep us all in the dark about aforementioned issues.

And then last summer, when we were all home for most of the summer, about hospice. About morphine. About Dad's last birthday party, his last days, hours...His funeral, the details of his casket, the military service, pallbearers.

Heavy stuff.

But I was a bit taken back when I noticed a couple of weeks ago that Parker and Peyton have gotten into the "thing" thing, too.

Peyton had been sick and home from school for three days in a row. By Friday she was feeling out of the pre-school loop, as Parker was her only connection to the world of crayons and pint-sized fashion.

"Parker," Peyton began, "this is a sad thing."

Oh, my.

"Taylor said that she was going see me at school and then she didn't and that is sad sad sad."

A couple minutes later, Parker began to describe to Peyton the movie that the kids got to watch that day.

"Peyton," he said, "this is a funny thing. The dog in the movie farted!"

And with that, they have officially entered into the world of high drama.

The Meltdown Thing

2009-03-16T20:07:00.002-05:00

Golly, folks, two days in a row without naps and I'm whipped...uh, I mean, my kids are whipped.

Yesterday both Parker and Peyton skipped naps because obviously the excitement of going to a birthday party on a farm that afternoon was just too much anticipatory fervor for them to sleep through. Like they've never seen horses and pigs and goats and rabbits and ducks and a donkey before...psh.

Okay, so maybe 10-15 times. But in their short lifespan, that's 3-5 times a year...

Let me just say, Thank you, Tracy and Matt and little two-year-old birthday boy Chase. This party rocked. And I am being 100% honest. I regretfully admit I am not a fan of the birthday party. I don't even like my own kids' birthday parties.

The first birthday party that Pat and I attended as a pre-children couple, there was a keg on tap in the backyard. Apparently that one birthday party with the adult reprieve in the form of alcoholic beverages was not a long enough transition period, because it's just been in the past few months that these kid birthday parties are anything less than a flat out kick in my rear.

This party at the farm had so many animals--and they were small animals...baby goats, small chickens, miniature donkey and horses, and a 29 year old horse for the kids to ride on. This was the epitome of fun and safety wrapped into one event! After cake and ice cream there was a pinata and more candy than you could shake a plastic bat at.

Serious fun.

Today we met Sabina, Meg, Sabina's folks from San Angelo, and her mom's sister and husband from Germany, and Sabina's neices, Erin and Erica, at the Stockyards in Fort Worth. Again, fun! The stockyards are filled to the brim of the aroma of cow and horse manure, and I love it. Plus, Sabina and her kin are super. After lunch, we went to the Fort Worth Botanical Gardens, which I had never, not one time taken our kids to. It's fun and it's free. Not to mention beautiful this time of year. We played in the fountains, raced across the grass, and had a water fight.

Wait a minute. I mean Erin and Erica, Parker and Peyton, and Meg did all that stuff. I just followed them around and smelled the roses. Erin and Erica are in the 5th and 7th grade, and Meg can still claim a sub-30 age all year round. (Sabina's dad said that she's either truly that young of an age or she'll be cryin' in the morning.) Having those guys there made my job pretty darn easy.

But we're still pooped, to say the least, and with good reason I might add. Tonight during supper Parker couldn't even figure out his bodily functions. He kept getting out of his chair, walking across the living room, and then coming back to the table. It's like his brain couldn't even stay focused long enough to decide if he was going to eat or pee. After three trips half-way to the toilet, he finally announced that he was "having a major meltdown."

I'm with ya, buddy.

A real fat thing

2009-03-04T14:40:00.004-06:00

Let me make a short story long...

The Texas State High School Wrestling Tournament (should I put this in all caps? because for the month of February, our lives revolve around this event) was this past weekend. That meant that Patrick took his boys that qualified to Austin on Thursday to wrestle, and the kids and I joined him Friday after school. I really like to watch wrestling. Well, kind of. That's somewhat of a lie. I like to watch good wrestling, but once someone gets twisted so that their shoulder (or neck or knee or ankle) looks like it could snap out of their torso, I tap out. Parker and Peyton are getting better and better at behaving/learning to be entertained at tournaments, but the event is exhausting to say the least. And all I'm doing is carting kids around and giving myself whiplash every other match.

Saturday night after the finals, Parker, Peyton and I drove on down to San Antonio to see Denise and Hank. It was a short visit. We arrived around 9:30 Saturday night and left by noon on Sunday. Then we spent three hours parked on I-35 just south of New Braunsfels because the highway was shut down due to an accident.

Unfortunate for all of us. Parker mooned a man in a VW bug behind us because he couldn't hold it anymore and we were desperate.

My plan was to stop in San Marcus at the Taj Mahal of shopping center. That's right. Prime Outlets and Tanger Outlets next door, back to back. I am ready to embrace my expanding belly and really wanted to get some cute maternity clothes at the Motherhood outlet.

By the time we got to San Marcus, I was about to throw my shopping idea out the window, since my last nerve had escaped there, too, after 3 hours of traffic. But we had been in the car for an eternity, and the kids and I needed to stretch our legs.

That, and the bargains.

So we first went to Old Navy and got the kids some really cute stuff. The Childrens Place was right there, so we went in to that place, too. And I really want some new sunglasses, and Patrick did say, "After your recent experience on Texas's lovely highway system, buy yourself something nice, baby." And I wanted to get Parker some summer sandals, and then the kids wanted a carmel apple, and I was just too weak by this time to say no.

So we'd been shopping for about an hour and a half, and we finally head across the street to Motherhood. After getting a dirty look or ten from a sales lady there because, well, maybe my kids weren't acting like angels, I found a couple dresses and we were back on the road.

And here's the real story, in case I lost you with all of the unnecessary information above:
Monday morning I put on one of the dresses that I had gotten on Sunday.
Parker walks into the bathroom and says, "Mom, why are you wearing that?"
"Because," I say, "it fits and it's new."
"Well," he says, "it makes you kind of ... fat."

Can someone remind me why we teach five year olds to be honest?

And Another Thing...

2009-02-23T14:54:00.002-06:00

By the way, I'm prego.

Due July 18, give or take a couple days, and if it seems that I'm revealing this information as an afterthought, well, you can think again.

We went in for our sonogram this morning and found out that the baby has 4 chambers in his/her heart that are developing right on schedule, has a normally-developing brain in his/her head, and his/her spine is completely closed, as it should be. All systems are go...

And for that, I am grateful to God. For multiple reasons. I feel like the huge burden of anxiety and worry has been lifted from my ever-widening body. So this is much more than an afterthought (as we all know this whole child-bearing/child-rearing process never is)...I feel grateful. Humble. Blessed.

We decided (or I did, I can't remember if I consulted Pat on this decision or not...) that we wouldn't find out what the sex of the baby was until it pops out (understatement of the century for those who care). I feel like God has been tapping me on the shoulder a lot this past year, and this time, He is whispering, "You know, Rhonda, you don't need to know everything that I've got in store for you." Which someday I'll discuss with Him, along with other things, when I can have this chat face to face.

So today at the sonogram, instead of being totally consumed with is it a boy? is it a girl? would you please stop looking so closely at the heart and just let me know if we're doing blue or pink around here? and was very anxious about the heart, the brain, the spine. You know, the things that really matter.

What on earth was I thinking? I mean, it's not like I didn't care about Parker and Peyton's pre-natal growth and development. I must have, right? Or was I as shallow as I think I was, because I don't remember worrying at all about that.

Maybe ignorance is bliss...

Anyway, here comes another Dunn...another mouth to feed, another body to clothe...another smile and another pair of feet running through the house. Another round of sleepless nights and potty training...another baby to rock and cuddle (I don't sing) and maybe another opportunity to get potty training "right" this time. Another car seat. Another voice. Another plate at the dinner table. Another. Another one. Another Dunn.

"Thank you, Lord...how can I ask for more?"

These Crazy Things!

2009-01-28T15:18:00.004-06:00

No school today! Yeah!

It's icy and cold cold cold outside. Like 29 degrees...at NOON! This does not happen often to those of us who live south of the Red River.

And my lovely children, in an afternoon fit of creativity and imagination, decided to "go swimming."

The Wallpaper Thing

2009-01-18T22:04:00.003-06:00

I've spent the last 3 hours of my sacred three-day weekend scraping this off of our bathroom walls:

It's glue from the wallpaper border that used to hang on the bathroom wall, and it has hampered my plans to have the bathroom walls re-painted by the end of the day. This day.

Let me urge any of you homeowners out there who are tempted to glue pieces of paper to your wall to let it pass. There are so many other viable options out there: paint, plaster, wood paneling...

Wallpaper just plain stinks when it comes time to redecorate. This wicked covering was on our master bedroom walls and our kitchen walls, both of which I stripped (with quadruple the pain and anguish) the first year we lived in this house...four years ago. The memory of the scrubbing and scraping must have temporarily fled my memory when I decided to tackle the border in the "other" bathroom.

So my plan was to take down the border and tape off the baseboards yesterday and apply two coats of paint today. Oh, Wallpaper, how you had other ideas! I'm now 24 hours behind schedule because your sticky and nasty layers of paper and glue we're oh so attached to our bathroom walls.

Seriously people, wallpaper must be the WORST excuse for wall decor. It's too permanant. Have a new color scheme hit you in the middle of the night? With a nice, clean painted wall, you just get yourself a gallon of Behr semi-gloss, a little blue tape, and your set. Viola! A new look in less than twenty-four hours. But with wallpaper, it's a wet and sloppy mess before you even get to crack open the lid of the paint.

Honestly, I just don't have the time for that.

So I'm warning you right now, homeowners, you put that mess up on your walls, I'm not buying your house.

On a more positive note, I did repaint the kitchen island that looked like someone had painted it with "Lost your Lunch" color paint. I'm still not totally satisfied with the new color, so I'm not inviting guests until I get it right.

But y'all are always welcome to drop by unannounced and uninvited.

A Language Thing

2009-01-17T07:39:00.003-06:00

Okay Friends, this post is brought to you courtesy of my dear sister, Kim. She lives in Iowa and has a darling family that drives her nuts, too. One of our favorite things to do is embarrass our kids (hopefully, someday) by telling each other the crazy things that our kids do. Kim has a 6th grade step-son, Evan, a five year old boy, Ty, and a three year old little girl, Bryn. They do and say some funny stuff.

Here's an email that I got from Kim last week. And I even asked her permission to post this, so no one even try to sue me for plagarism.

Ah, the joys of language acquisition...

I have a funny story about bedtime prayers….. Allen Mathes and his wife had their baby the day after Christmas. We went over to their house on Saturday to visit them and the little guy. His name is Beckett Wilkes Mathes and Ty kept wanting to call him ‘Bucket’ instead of ‘Beckett”. He was getting frustrated every time we would correct him that he finally said, “I’m just going to call him “Baby”. Okay, whatever.

Last night when I asked Ty and Bryn each who their special prayers were for, Bryn said, “My special prayers are for baby Beckett.” (Who she calls Bucket too). So after our prayers were over Ty asks, “Mom, is his name ‘Fucket’? To which I let a laugh escape and said, ‘No. It’s Beckett. B..B..Beckett.”

“Well, that’s just a stupid name.”

I said, “Ty, that’s not very nice to say. Would you like it if someone said you had a stupid name?”

“But I don’t have a stupid name. I have a nice name. It’s just Ty.”

Hard to argue when they make a valid point.

Thanks for the great material, Kimmy. Winks ;)

The Morning Thing

2009-01-10T13:58:00.005-06:00

Let me tell you about Wednesday morning.

But first let me preface this whole post by saying that Monday and Wednesday mornings suck, and through dealing with them, I have come to totally appreciate the fact that Mom and Dad didn't lock me in a closet and leave me there. Or lock themselves in a closet...

I've never really been fond of mornings where you have to be at certain places by a certain time (which is about 95% of the mornings of my life). I call myself a morning person because I wake up and fuction in the mornings. But let me tell you, I have a very loose definition of the word "function." We get ourselve together and get out the door, but there's not a whole lot of organization to the whole routine. Because, I've discovered, my two preschoolers also have a very loose definition of the word "routine."

In high school, we had 6 women in our house--okay, one woman and five girls, and the youngest was not even in school yet, so does she really count? I think so. We all had to be at the same school at the same time--8:15 a.m. Our house was chaotic to say the least, with us either fighting over clothes, fighting over the last of the milk, fighting over toothpaste, fighting over the curling iron, or fighting just because we were grouchy. My favorite morning was the tantrum I threw because I couldn't find a clean sports bra in the dryer. For 20 minutes I ranted and raved over who stole my clean sports bra. Then I looked in my dresser. And found one.

Dad had to be at work at 7 a.m. He left the house at 6 a.m. for his 10 minute commute to work. Let me remind you that we lived in rural southeast Nebraska, and traffic helicopters never graced our airways. He was just a smart man to get the heck out of Dodge before the stampede came through town.

Mondays and Wednesdays now mean Pat has left the house before 6 a.m. to go to morning wrestling practice, and I'm left to get the kids together and out the door all by my lonesome. We'd been doing a decent job of it until this past Wednesday. Try to follow along as I tell you about the chaos that transpired...

I get Parker out of bed and on the couch so he can watch cartoons while I get breakfast for them. After many "I don't knows..." he says he wants dry cheerios. I get a bowl of cheerios and set them on the coffee table. They don't move. I get Peyton out of bed and her clothes on while she shoots down my every suggestion for breakfast (which is not uncommon now-a-days--rarely does she eat breakfast like a champion). I tell Parker to get busy with his breakfast, and he declared that he wanted PANCAKES! NOT CEREAL! for breakfast. Not a big deal--see how I'm taking all of this in stride?--I can grab a couple of pancakes from the freezer and get them ready in 5 minutes or less. Peyton sees me pull the two pancakes out of the microwave and says WHY ARE THERE TWO PANCAKES?!? PARKER CAN'T HAVE TWO PANCAKES!

Do you wnat one? I ask.

Yes, she replies.

Deal!! I say.

I'm feeling pretty good about myself, because it's not even 6:50 and I've got two kids who are dressed and happy about their breakfast. Obviously they aren't going to finish their pancakes by 7, so I figure we'll just eat breakfast in the car (again). So I get their shoes together, and just as I am finishing tying Parker's shoes, all heck breaks loose.

Parker: I DON'T WANT MY SHOES ON I DIDN'T GET TO EAT MY BREAKFAST WHILE I WATCHED CARTOONS I DON'T WANT TO GO YET I WANT TO FINISH WATCHING CARTOONS WHILE I EAT MY BREAKFAST! I DON'T WANT TO WEAR A JACKET TODAY MY LIFE REALLY REALLY SUCKS! (not that last part, but the rest is quite accurate)

Petyon: I DON'T WANT PANCAKE I DON'T WANT TO EAT BREAKFAST I DON'T BLAH BLAH BLAH WHINE WHINE WHINE.

So we're walking out the door, two out of three of us screaming, and I'm trying to juggle two plates of pancakes because by golly they're going to eat what I fixed for them and I am thinking to myself this is not a good way to start our morning.

As I'm shuffling our things and the kids into the car, I remind Parker that he's the one that changed his mind, and if he wants to eat breakfast while he watches TV then he needs to decide earlier what he wants to eat. And not change his mind. Because it's not my fault that he didn't eat when I told him to.

And I tell Peyton that she's the one that said that she wanted pancakes and if she doesn't eat her breakfast it's a long time until lunch and she's going to be pretty darn hungry.

Basically, I tell them to take responsibility for their own decisions and their unhappiness is their own darn fault, and there's not a thing I can do about it.

I'm sure you can imagine how well that went over. Yeah, the screaming only increased in volume and frequency.

So we're about a half a mile from home and at least we're on the road and they're in the back and I'm in the front and I'd turn on the radio but it would only add to the chaos. But, let's face it, we were all miserable.

I say, Parker, I'm sorry. I must have misunderstood you. I thought that you said "cheerios" when in fact you meant "pancakes." I'm sorry I made a mistake and you didn't get to eat your breakfast while you watched cartoons. But let's not let it ruin our day, okay?

He says, Sniff, sniff. Okay.

Then I say, Peyton, I have an apple in my bag that I was going to eat with my lunch. Would you rather have my apple?

Did you wash it? she asks.

Yes, I say.

Will you take off the stem? she asks.

Here, I say, and hand back an apple.

So Parker picks up his plate of pancakes and Peyton picks up her plate of pancakes and breakfast is finished by the time we pull into Brennans. Peyton doesn't even eat her apple because she decides she wants to save it for after school.

All because I took responsibility for their problems? And I've been thinking, am I doing them a huge disservice by fixing all of their problems? Am I raising a couple of kids who are egocentric and think that life doesn't serve real consequences?

She's the Sassiest Thing

2009-01-03T07:35:00.004-06:00

Peyton is, in a word, SASSY.
She never refrains from conveying her disgust in her mother's stupid rules and regulations. She'll put her hands on her hips and huff, "But MOM, I said I wanted..."
Pat and I have noticed this attitude developing over the past six months or so. It started over the summer. Pat says that with her attitude, we won't have to worry about the boys she dates, or her even dating at all.

We imagine a boy coming to our front door, Pat and I sitting him down, and instead of threats of Pat's non-existant hunting skills, we'll say, "Are you sure you want to put yourself through this?"

The volleyball girls asked this fall what sports we think Peyton will play. I wonder sometimes if it will ever be an issue. I can't imagine any coach in their right mind will want to put up with her "screw you" attitude.

This attitude has gotten worse over the past month. I had some of my co-workers and their kids over for soup and snacks one night. Caleb, an innocent and unsuspecting almost 2-year-old, was playing with a doll stroller--one of the two that Peyton has in her toy collection. Peyton tried to take the stroller that Caleb was playing with, had already been reminded that we don't take other people's toys, when Caleb took his hands off of the covetted stroller to grab a handful of chips. Immediately Peyton was all over Caleb's stroller.
"Peyton," I say, "Caleb is playing with that stroller. You have your own."
She drops her hands and glares at me. (Isn't she the cutest thing?)
So we all go back to talking and Caleb continues eating, and as I'm watching Peyton out of the corner of my eye, I see her place her hands on Caleb's stroller's handles, look at Caleb, tap him on the shoulder, and smuggly grip those naughty little fingers around the purple foam covers on the handles of his stroller!

This behavior continued all through Christmas. She is queen of the castle at Grandma's house. Denise took her to Nebraska with her two days earlier than the rest of us went. On the way, she asked Denise, among many other things:
1. Is Grandpa in our hearts? because I can't feel him in there.
2. Is Grandma going to get a new Grandpa?
3. Is Jesus a boy or a girl? (she was not at all happy to find out that he was a boy...oh, feminism, here we come!)

When she got to Grandma's, she was the only grandkid there for two whole days. Denise said that she's never heard the word "Okay" come out of our mother's mouth so much. Grandma even let Peyton stay up until 1:30 in the morning! Her antics included asking Aunt Bobbi if she could have a drink, a snack, a kick in the rear, whatever, and when Bobbi would get up to get it for her dear little neice, Peyton would steal her seat! Bobbi darling, now you too are Peyton's sucker.
This behavior is precisely why Santa brought her a Barbie camera instead of the Barbie computer that she'd been asking for. That, and Santa maybe couldn't find requested Barbie computer.

Birthday Boy

2008-12-13T15:17:00.004-06:00

Five years ago this weekend, Pat and I became new parents for the first time. Parker was delivered precisely on his due date, December 12, 2003, in Humble, Texas.

I had my doubts, though.

My last pre-natal check-up was the day before, on a Thursday. I saw a doctor in the practice--not my own--who measured, weighed, and, well, you know, checked things out. I wasn't dialated a fraction of a centimeter. So I asked him, ever so politely, if he might consider inducing my labor, since, well, you know, it was close to Christmas time, his vacation, my vacation, Pat's vacation, and my resemblence to a whale.

He said he'd see me in a week. Not exactly what I wanted to hear.

I can so vividly remember my frustration. Frustration which has been equalled 843 million time since that day.

Pat drove me over to Courtney's house so I could properly vent my rage (high horomone levels do not compliment my temperment). She wasn't home, so we drove the long and lonely drive home, in which I told Pat to floor it on every bump and pothole in the road so we could shake this baby out.

It worked splendidly. I woke up the next morning around 5 am with what I thought was an upset stomach from Ci-Ci's the night before. I realized it was more than indigestion when the cramps made me drop and double over on the bedroom floor.

Parker was born that night.

So yesterday, Parker turned five years old and it's hard to believe that just five years ago, my life was changed forever. Never before had I felt with such sureness the love that God has for us because he gave His precious Son for us. Never before had I understood the sacrifice and the gift that God gave us. A precious baby saved us.

Needless to say, Parker changed my life. He's wild and crazy and obnoxious and doesn't think with his brain sometimes. But he loves people with all that he is worth.

And last night at bedtime prayers with Parker, I told God how thankful I was that our family has been blessed by Parker.

When we finished, Parker said, "How's come you talked about me so much in our prayer?"

Because I'm glad it's your birthday, little man.

The Thanksgiving Thing

2008-11-23T20:05:00.002-06:00

We spent this afternoon putting out Christmas decorations. Pat crawled on the roof and I got out the tree, the nativity scenes, lights, garland, and ornaments. There's still more to do, and it's not Thanksgiving yet, but since we are traveling to Nebraska for Thanksgiving, I thought it might be nice to come home to the holiday spirit.

Holiday spirit, Parker says, is when you don't walk around saying, "Bah, humbug."

I love love Christmas. Well, as much as you can love a holiday. But it's better than Cheesecake Factory cheesecake, which is saying an awful lot.

But I've never really gotten into Thanksgiving. You eat turkey. There's a football game or six rumbling on the TV. You never really know what to wear because the weather, down here? it could be 70 degrees, or it could snow, like it did last year.

And you give thanks for all the great things that God has provided you. And to me, that's a no-brainer. Do we need a special day to do that?

However, this morning, our pastor asked us to praise God for the hard stuff that has come into our life.

Yeah, that makes for a fun conversation.

The thing is, I have had some conversations with God this year--about the bad stuff--but it wasn't necessarily to thank Him.

I don't think, "Thanks a lot, God" would count as truly thankful.

But what if I changed my sarcastic, entitled, bratty attitude?

So I'm thanking God this year, even for the bad stuff. I'm thanking God for my heartache and pain, because this year, people near and dear went to see Him...to spend eternity with Him.

What's not great about that? What's not to be grateful about?

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

The Teaching Thing Part Two

2008-10-25T15:20:00.002-05:00

Every Sunday I ask the kids what they learned in Sunday School that morning. Partly for their own retention. Partly for comic relief.

Last Sunday Parker said he didn't learn anything. They just had to guess stuff.

"Oh really?" I said.

"Yeah. Like I guessed that God made a dolphin and so I got a treat."

You can always tell a teacher is really good when the kids don't even realize that they are learning.

So then Parker turns to Peyton and asks her if she remembers when God made the water split apart. Here's Parker's version of Exodus...

Yes. God split the water so that Moses' people could walk across it. Yes. And then he turned the stick into a snake, and God sent the bugs...

"Why did God send bugs?" I asked.

Because. The king was being very mean. He was being selfish. He was making the people work work work. So God sent the bugs.

Do you think that God would send bugs to my school? Because I am getting tired of all this work work work, too.

"Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." --Exodus 4:12

The Teacher Thing

2008-10-23T19:17:00.005-05:00

I knew this day was coming.

Since Pat and I are both teachers and coaches, and since the kids have pretty much been raised in the bleachers and hallways of the school, I shouldn't be suprised that Peyton has started to pretend teach.

She trolls around on her fire truck, picks up every toy, piece of paper, blanket, pillow, peice of trash on the floor, and says:

"What color is this?"

Since we are a house of near genius, we almost always get the answer right. It is rewarded with:

"[Color]. Goooood," in a high, shrilly voice.

Sunday night I noticed her pick up a small but thick book, perch behind her miniature table, and say:

"Now. This is Bible Study. Who made an apple? [no answer, as we had all begun to tune her out after a day of color quizzing] God. Gooood."

Lord help her students.

"A student is not better than the teacher, but the student who has been fully trained will be like the teacher." --Luke 6:40

The Daycation Thing

2008-10-19T20:50:00.006-05:00

There are vacations, staycations, and daycations. That's what you call a one day trip to San Antonio to see your sister Denise.

We were actually there a weekend, but Weekendcation just didn't have the same ring to it.

Don't think that I have even started to think that it is okay for Denise to be over four hours away from us, but we had a GREAT time in San Antonio. You all should try it--it really is a nice city even if those people down there did steal my sister from us here in Arlington.

We weren't able to leave until later Saturday afternoon when our freshmen volleyball tournament was over. But the whole trip began much sooner. We started packing our bags on Friday night. Parker and Peyton love to go on trips, and they really get into packing. I let them help out, and it soon became apparant that all they planned to do in San Antonio was play with magnetics and barbies, and read books. In their swimming suits.

We got to Denise's apartment about 8 pm, and by that time my voice was completely gone. I couldn't squeek out a single word--which the kids thought was great, by the way--so I, for once, let Denise talk.

The next morning we woke up and Denise and I went for a run while Pat took the kids to the park. She has the most awesome park with running/biking/hiking trails. We had to run single file, as the trails were narrow and winding, and since I could barely talk by Sunday morning, it's not like we were missing out on any conversation. Denise led because she knew where she was going, and a couple of ladies warned us about a rattlesnake that they saw on the back trails. Since I was born first, I thought I'd let her see the rattler first. Plus, how was I supposed to look out for a 20 foot long snake when I was navigating the terrain scatterred with tree roots, rocks, and 10 foot drop-offs?

I really did about bite it one time, and some parts of the trail were so steep and rocky we had to walk up and down the embankments.

We went to the riverwalk and had Mexican for lunch, fed any creature that would come near us, and played in the fountains.

After lunch we all went to the children's museum. The kids built stuff did scientific/learn-y things, but the best part was Pat in a wig. There was a play bank, a pretend H-E-B grocery store, a cow that they milked and produced water (gasp!), an airplane, a pretend dentist office, an old-fashioned mercantile...we all had a good time. Even Pippy over there.

We went back to Denise's and I decided I'd better get some drugs because my sinuses were making my teeth hurt. So Denise and I went to Walgreens for some cold medicine and the nail salon for pedicures. Just for good measure. A little extra pampering never hurt anybody.

The kids had to swim, and even though it's still in the upper 80's in San Antonio in the middle of October, that water was cold. Parker swam until his lips were blue--a whole 15 minutes. Peyton, Denise and I wisely chose to watch from the sidelines.

Sunday night Denise took us to a wing place down the street that I think was called Cheers because they knew her by name. They also knew a guy named Hank, who we never saw but for a few hours Saturday night because apparently down here in Texas high school football is more important than seeing your significant other's family.

By Sunday night we were all spent. We woke up when Denise went to inservice Monday morning and went to Chic-Fil-A for breakfast. Parker said, "Where are all the kids?" Well, their mommies and daddies don't get them up at the crack of dawn for playtime. We stopped at the drive-thru zoo on our way out of town and saw some freaky ostriches (and cool zebras, giraffe, buffalo, gazelles), got some GOOD Rudy's BBQ in Waco, and were home by 4 pm. A great day(ortwo)cation.

As gross as my sinuses were by the end of the weekend, it was so good to see Denise, her place, her town, and hey, even Hank for a little while. For the record, however, I'd like it to be known that should she choose to move back closer, I wouldn't have to dream of stupid names for our weekend trips to see her.

Denise, you did good, girl. Winks :)

The Staycation Thing

2008-10-19T18:51:00.007-05:00

One of the things that I really love about living around here is that there is always something to do if you want to do it. Not that there isn't a plenty to do right here within these four walls...but sometimes a girl's gotta get out, you know?

You just don't have those kind of options in Nebraska. You have football or volleyball games, or you gotta get out the hayrack for fall entertainment up there. Not that I'm knocking the bonfire/hayrack ride. Good times. But most of the times that I was near a hayrack, I was more likely to be throwing bales from the field.

So this fall we have been to the Texas State Fair. This might be one of my favorite things about the fall. I love Big Tex. I love corny dogs. I love The Spririt of the Horse, and the Dog Shows are beginning to grow on me. We always go on the weekend, so often there are very few animal exhibits there, as most of the shows are during the week. But you can usually still smell their remnants, and to me, that's okay.

I miss the smells of the country. One morning this past summer I was out running and I smelled my Grandma. Really. I got a whiff of the dairy/dog/powdered milk/hay/chicken poop that was the aura and essence of my Grandma. I don't know where it came from, or how it got to southeast Arlington, but it was good.

As we were near the end of our stay this year, a wonderful and kind man gave Pat his extra tickets. There were way more than we could use; we let Parker and Peyton each choose a ride, as this year they were both big enough to ride. See?

They chose to ride the airplane. Parker loved it. Peyton did not.

The last thing on the agenda was to watch the "Spirit of the Horse" show. When we got to the arena, they were about to start the Pee-Wee Stampede. If you have never had the pleasure, folks, you are missing some genuine entertainment. Peyton was all about hopping in that arena and throwing on a cowboy hat. Parker, on the other hand, only agreed after some gentle persuading.

Like, "You're not doing this? Are you sure? Peyton is doing this? You're really not going to do this and your little sister is doing this?" I know, not a great moment in parenting, but it got him out there.

And then Peyton chickened out.

Parker was a bull rider and he scored an 85 (who are these judges?!?) and won a lovely yellow participation ribbon.

The Cleaning Thing

2008-10-18T22:29:00.003-05:00

I have walked in through our front door for weeks now, totally disgusted with our front yard. The too-tall grass. The dying plants. The overgrown shrubs. Ick.

Yet I was waaay too lazy to do a darn thing about it. Until today.

I spent most of the afternoon trimming and cutting and digging and raking and bagging the old, dirty, unwanted dead plants. And as I was finishing up, I thought to myself...hmmm, this killin' things and shoving it in bags is some good stuff.

Before you label me a sociopath, let me defend myself; I've had somewhat of a tumultuous ride these past few months. After Dad died in July, and then a couple of weeks ago I had the dusting and cleaning, I've been feeling a little sorry for myself. And I really wish that I could cut and bag the crap that has been hanging over me.

Because here's what I thought I learned through Dad's death:
1. God has a plan, and it's way more perfect than mine, it's way more complete than mine, and He doesn't need to consult me...He's got it figured out already.
2. God doesn't make mistakes. We do. A lot. But He doesn't.

But apparently I'm remedial and He needed to re-teach. It's like that big long formula you learn in trig or calculus or physics or chemistry--you know, those smart classes--and you know you know the formula because you've seen it and you've worked with it before, but when it comes time for the test, you can't figure out how to make it fit your problem. And then you get all anxious and nervous and stressed because you know you are going to FAIL FAIL FAIL.

That's pretty much been me the last couple of weeks. Trying to figure out how to make it fit. And worried that failure is for sure around the corner.

But I know that the formula still exists; I know that God's plan is still the same and that He'll get us there. And that we can get there from here. He knows just where I am in that plan, and I don't have to know or understand.

The front yard looks much better. I rearranged some of the plants, dug up some cannas that just didn't look right and put the bulbs in a box in the shed so I can re-plant them in the back next spring. Getting them out of the way made room for the smaller plants in the bed. There is still life there, and it looks good.

My own dusting and cleaning made room for me to see this:
1. That I have been so blessed with an awesome husband and two precious children. Do you know how much I have told them that I love them in the past two weeks? A lot.
2. That I have such incredible and supportive friends. Friends who will listen, and friends who will put things into proper perspective for me.

There is life here, and it is good.

The Amazing Potion Thing

2008-10-04T22:01:00.004-05:00

For most of his almost five years of life, Parker has wanted to be a football player when he grows up. One day this summer, for reasons beyond my comprehension, Parker announced that his days of dreaming of football were over. Just like that. Before he donned a single set of pads or a helmet, before he was flattened and left for dead in the dust, Parker's relationship with football as we knew it would be over. Just like that.

Instead, he told me from his car seat in the back of my car, he would be an inventor kid.

I promise we have NEVER watched Harry Potter. Not once.

I really really dislike science, especially chemistry, so where he found this notion I will never know. But he is running with it.

One night about a month ago, he took a small cup, filled it with water in the bathroom, and placed it gently on the window sill in our front entry-way.

When asked what in the world he was doing, Parker matter-of-factly replied that he was making "depotion"; in other, normal, words, I think he meant, "the potion." He told me that the water would turn into magic potion "from the moonlight."

One Friday night--it was the night that we were expecting to be blown away from Hurricane Ike--Parker put his glass of water on the window sill. When he woke on Saturday morning, the water had turned green!

Pat said that when he discovered his water had turned into green magic potion, he threw his hands in the air, jumped up and down, and screamed, "I did it! I'm an inventor-kid!"

This is Parker explaining what made the experiment work:

1. mix together hot water and cold water.

2. put the water in the window on a Friday night.

3. make sure there is a storm comin' outside.

If I liked science in the least, I would be so proud.

The Haircut Thing

2008-08-31T20:28:00.000-05:00

It's what happens when your kids go unsupervised for who knows how long...

I was out of town from Wednesday to late Saturday night. One of the things I love about Patrick is he really is a good dad, and when I'm out of town I feel secure in our childrens' well-being. Now, they do go out to eat 3/4 of the time, but I guess in the whole scheme of things, what do a few extra meals of chicken strips and french fries matter? And I don't really think that they have a standard bedtime, but what I don't know about that probably keeps our marriage in tact.

But let's get to the point here, okay?

It's late when I get home Saturday night, the kids are asleep, so all I do is sneak into their bedrooms and kiss them goodnight. Pat and I talk for about 30 minutes, and not once did he mention hair, scissors, or the combination of the two.

So before I go out to run Sunday morning, I peek in on my precious little darlings. Parker is kind of awake, so I kneel by his bed while we talk about how terribly and tragically we missed each--there's something wrong with his hair!! I see what looks at first like a shadow on his head! After closer inspection, it was no trick of lighting. It was a streak of hair stubble.

You know I began to fume. How did he do this where did he do this why did he do this and why in the heck did his father not STOP HIM FROM DOING THIS!?!

So I'm back in our bedroom in less than 3 seconds where I unkindly rattle Pat from his sweet slumber. And his response will I know not suprise many of you in the least.

HE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW PARKER HAD GIVEN HIMSELF THIS REVERSE-MOHAWK!

How do you not know that your kid has a pair of scissors in his sister's closet and has taken several lengthy swipes off of his crown? How do you give your kid a bath that evening, wash his newly fashioned hair, and not even notice?

I wanted to scream, Is this what happens when there is no supervision?!?

Yes, yes it is. And just as I was about to denounce my husband as an incompetent father, I remembered that just a couple of weeks ago, Parker had free reign in the kitchen long enough to dump together a hideous concoction of crackers and lemonade. So I just shut my mouth and I thanked God that Parker didn't decide to make fried eggs that night.

Our kids are doomed.

Anyway, here was the damage:

So this afternoon, we went to the local Super Cuts to get a heavy-duty buzz cut. Pat says we're sending him to the Marines the day after tomorrow. Don't you love how our little soldier looks now?

Fortunately for Peyton, she was able to capitalize on her Daddy's weak moment, and she got her long-awaited haircut herself. She loves it. I love it.

All's well that ends well.

The Cooking Thing

2008-08-31T16:26:00.000-05:00

About a year ago, I found the GREATEST toys at a garage sale.

Fake food. There was pizza, ice cream, hamburgers, french fries, fake fruits, vegetables, and condiments.

I'm sure I got them all for a steal, but I really didn't care. I was so excited for the kids to get their imaginations revved up!

Now Denise and Pat gave me a lot of grief. They thought the toys were ridiculous. I thought they were inspiring. In fact, they were so inspiring that apparently, Parker felt that he has graduated from the fake food.
Here's what he mixed up for me with a couple of weeks ago, with the real stuff:

The kids and I had gotten home kind of late that evening. We had been to the gym and then stopped by Chic-Fil-A to grab some supper for the kids. I had sat them down at the kitchen table to eat the rest of their nuggets and fries--the rest they had devoured on the way home. I thought with them eating it might be safe to jump in the shower quick.

Boy, was I wrong. When I came out of the bathroom, I was greeted by Parker and he was proud to present me with my supper that he had created by his own self.

"Look what I made for you, Mom! Are you hungry?"

One glance at the concoction and I completely lost my appetite, but since I'm such a great mom--you know, the kind that leaves her 3 and 4 year olds unattended--I kept a warm smile on my face.

"Why don't you take a bite?" I asked him.

"No. It's all for you," he beamed. Lovely.

Here's what I think he included in his recipe: half a sleeve of saltines, cheezits, I think marshmellows, Dora Fruit Snacks, and the rest of my large lemonade. The lemonade was a nice touch, I must say. It added an ever-so-subtle tang, not to mention improving the dry texture to one of moist slime.

I know, because he watched me until I took a bite.

The Country Thing

2008-08-03T16:11:00.000-05:00

We spent a good portion of the summer in a small, quaint village.

It was in a southeastern valley region.

Of Nebraska.

Now my kids have been city dwellers for their entire lives. Patrick, too, has never lived outside of the city limits.

I, however, lived the first 13 years of my life on a farm, and the next 5 in a town with the population of 70. 70 people. The sign did say "63," but when my family moved in, we raised the number to 70.

That's a 10% increase.

That's also really sad.

I learned to drive a tractor before I learned to drive a car (when I was about 8 years old). I learned how to dress a chicken (which means you chop off its head with an ax, dunk it in scorching hot water, and pull the feathers by the handful, for those of you who thought we put them in their Sunday best). I learned to sew pillows, simple tops, simple skirts, curtains, and prom dresses, and in that order. I learned to ride a horse and clip a mane and hooves. I learned the difference between milo and shattercane and walked local fields every morning for 3 weeks every August.

Yeah, fun stuff.

But still, I'd like for my kids to have some inkling--and maybe someday appreciation--for small-town country life. I'd like them to learn a few things when we go back to my hometown. I'm not talking Laura Ingalls Wilder here. I'm not going to ship them off to some Amish camp to learn how to live off of the land. If they'd just understand that milk comes from a cow and not the dairy isle at the local Kroger, I'll be happy.

So here's the progress we made this summer.

First, Parker is fascinated with the irrigation pivot systems. He wants to know what they do, how they move, why they move, where the water comes from...why aren't there any plants yet to water? He's also interested in the grain elevators. He gets that a farmer will harvest the corn from the field using a combine, and then they take it to the elevators. Then it goes to the store and we buy bread!

An amazing and miraculous transformation, for sure. But it's a start.

Peyton is enthralled with horses. She has learned to stop, to go, to turn. But really, she's much more interested in their bodily functions. Why do they lift their tails when they poop? Why do they spread their legs when they potty?

Which shouldn't make this news too suprising: She learned to squat.

Last night the kids were in the backyard having a white trash pool party--playing in the sprinklers. Pat yells at me to come outside so that I can witness our daughter with her bikini bottoms around her ankles and her hinny just inches above the grass. "I goin' potty!" she exclaims.

A lovely sight, I'm sure you can imagine. One of my proudest mom moments.

Parker has taken advantage a grassy nook a time or two, but for some reason it's much more troubling when your darling little daughter bares her butt in front of God and everybody. Why is that?

But a better question is, which one of my brilliant and classy sisters taught her this new trick?

The Anatomy Thing

2008-06-30T22:27:00.001-05:00

Girls seem to inquire much sooner than boys. I don't remember the Boy even understaning he had anything down there until he realized it could shoot pee off the deck and on the fence. Fancy tricks, for sure. But the Girl not only notices the down parts, but the up parts, too. I was changing clothes a couple of months ago and she walked into my closet and asked why girls have pimples. Now, even though I'm 33, I'm still (ashamedly so) not rid completely of acne, but really, do I need my then 2-year old to point that out? When she lifted up her shirt to show me her "pimples" was when I finally comprehended her question in its entirety. (She told me that she has little pimples and Mommies have big pimples. Some do, but not this Mommy. Thanks anyway.)
I, for some stupid reason, feel it is my motherly duty to explain all things strange and confusing, and also embarrassing, to my kids. So to answer her question, I said that Mommies have to feed their babies. The look of repulsion on her face was immediate. "I not eat pimples," she said. Why do I even try?
Yesterday she told me that when she grows up she's going to grow a dinker and be a Dad. I kept my stupid mouth shut on that one. Hey, at least I'm learning.

The Latest Thing

2008-06-28T16:18:00.000-05:00

We have been back in Texas since Sunday night. Our whole family (and in whole family, I mean the ENTIRE Nebraska family) was home in Nebraska, as Dad was in the hospital so that they could repair a hole in his esophogus that the tumor had caused. His surgery went better than expected, and by Friday, he was back home in Lewiston. He's not able to do a whole lot, as he gets winded really quickly, but a few more days, weeks, months--that's a few more days, weeks, months.
I remember when we first found out about Dad's lung cancer two years ago and Karin prayed with me on the steps of the church. And she told me that God had his hands in this, and that I should be watching for them. Well, God's here, for sure. As many times as we've heard the bad, sad news that the C-word brings on, God had gotten us here, two years later, and Dad is still living and breathing our earthly air. What I've come to realize is that it's not our plan. He didn't ask us what we wanted or how we'd like for this whole thing to play out. He's just asked us play our part.
Now, for someone who loves to plan and be in control, this isn't an easy lesson to learn. But isn't it kind of nice to think that we just get to tag along for the ride? And that God's got it all figured out already, for us.
"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perserverence" --Romans 5:3