protect kara from power tools

So my hubby and oldest son thought it would be a hoot to pull off a surprise birthday party for me when I turned the big 4-0. And they succeeded. I had 25 people pull into the driveway as I was in the middle of canning pickles. (Great timing, and it only flustered me a little. Okay that's a lie. I was a lot flustered.)

The invitations told everyone I like power tools, but power tools don't like me. Guests were instructed to bring something to help protect me. And unfortunately, I have a very creative family.

So, my "protection gear" included a hard hat decorated with puffy paint, a face shield, first aid kits, pain meds, scar ointment, football shoulder pads, roller blading knee and elbow pads, antique hand tools and power tools that don't work and (not pictured) a nut cup.

Why would they do this you ask? Find out here and here. Unfortunately, I do have a love/hate relationship with power tools. Mostly love, but once a while they decide to take it out on me.

So, everyone had their fun with me and someone so kindly snapped a picture. Since I have absolutely no self-respect, I shared it with you. Happy birthday to me. Now, I'm going to go buy myself a router.

caught on camera

I was "supposed" to be the designated photographer at a recent church event in the park, but one prankster snapped a pic of me.

At least it looks like I might have been doing something with the camera. :)

I'm sharing only because I'm hardly ever on the receiving end of the lens and this proves that I do have a sense of humor (he shot this right after I tried to take a picture of him taking a picture of me).

my apologies

Life is taking over around here. I can't believe I haven't posted anything since July!!! (The couple of newsletter columns below are the only thing that is forcing me to keep writing - so I shared them in the hopes that you will still love me).

I could say that nothing exciting or funny has happened around here, but well, that would be lying. And while I'm known to exaggerate a story for maximum editorial impact, I don't usually outright fib. Truth be told - I'm just too busy and uninspired to tap my fingers on a keyboard when I know there is history on Christopher Columbus to finish, trim to paint, and teeth to brush (my own).

The kids are still funny and crazy. The addition is still unfinished. And I am still a size 4. (Ha!)

As I sit here right now, trying to finish yet another newsletter column, hash over design ideas for Christmas cards and search online for yarn, my kids are rapping in the kitchen. The beat-boxing is almost in rhythm with my typing. Until someone gets mad because the others aren't singing the right lyrics...

Firstborns are very bossy - did you know that? It's a wonder my younger brothers speak to me anymore. But, that sounds like food for another column, another day when I'm not busy or crazy or sleep-deprived.

Thanks for hanging in there.

pack of lies

Recent things that have happened in my little sheltered world have led me to ponder...lies. And how many I've let myself believe, or not thought deeply enough about them to figure out how I've been duped.

Death, for instance. It is a lie. A temporary departure to another place - but just because the "person" is gone as we know it, doesn't mean he/she is dead. Gone, yes. Dead, no. I'm so grateful for a faith that reaffirms that we have life after death and for some, a better life because of death. Sounds almost ridiculous, but I firmly believe that is true. Life on this earth, while it can be blessed, is certainly not a treat all of the time, but life in heaven...probably what life is meant to be - communion with God, praise with angels, dancing with Jesus and more than we can imagine. No doubt about it - death is a lie.

Another lie? Sin masquerading as a "how I was made." This can take any form - a temper flaring, homosexuality, gluttony, lust, greed, envy...okay, should I just name the seven deadly sins and be done with it? We tend to want to justify so much of our misdeeds - I was created with a bit of an anger problem so therefore I'm not sinning by yelling at my kids or wanting to sucker punch an idiot - it's just how I was made! Lie, lie lie. I can't help wanting what other people have that I don't have. I just have expensive tastes. Nope, sorry. Another lie. I'm not hurting anyone by peeking at this dirty picture or by daydreaming about someone more romantic. Yep, you guessed it - big fat lie.

How about this one? Christianity is all about a set of rules. Ha! I laugh in the face of legalism. Okay, so the 10 Commandments are in. The Golden Rule is in, but adult baptism vs. infant? Grape juice or wine? Free will or predestination? Sabbath vs. Sunday? King James vs. NIV? (Okay, that last one is pretty hard to argue in favor of KJV, but I know plenty of people who try.) Now, this analogy isn't working as well as I'd like, but I'm simply trying to point out that where legalism fails is that no one can make faith about a list of dos and don'ts - eating pork might not be right for me, but I'm not about to bonk you over the head for having a BLT. Certain things are right and certain things are wrong and most everything else falls under a gray area that one has to determine for oneself. Do I go to a Lutheran church? A Baptist? A Messianic Jewish temple? Can't tell you that one. But I can tell you - that isn't a decision I make for you or one that I can tell you is right or wrong. That's the Holy Spirit's job.

God isn't big enough to handle ________. Truth or lie? Pretty pointless to believe in a God who ISN'T big enough to handle whatever problems we have or encounter. And yet, we somehow manage to have an image in our heads of a washed-up old man, pestering us to do His will and picking and choosing which prayers he'll answer. Yuck - give me an all-powerful, all-knowing and all-loving Father any day. Even if I don't understand all He does or allows to happen, I still know he is in control. Sometimes that alone is enough to answer my questions. Sometimes it isn't, but I'm pretty sure he's okay with that.

Today, I just feel liking sticking my tongue out at the devil and saying "Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Someday his will be. And mine won't. And that's the truth.

it's official!

I'm pretty excited about this - setting up my own shop on Etsy. So far: knitted baby hats and felted Easter/gift baskets, with plans for polar fleece baby blankets, bags and purses in the future. Check it out sisustyle!

favorite things

Forget the Sound of Music - these are a few of my favorite things. (By the way - who really like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens - please.)

Burt's Bees lipgloss
Smartwool socks
Heidi's recipe for homemade pumpkin bread
Mackenzie River pizza (available in Montana only, alas)
Norwex cleaning cloths - still amazed at how well they clean
Arnica montana homeopathic remedy for bruises - it really works
Trader Joe's lavender salt scrub
Nad's hair removal paste (be prepared though...)
smell of sheets hung on the line (wonder if anyone's managed to bottle that)
pretty much anything written by John Ortberg, Kevin Leman or Mark Buchanan
Ipod - jamming to ABBA had got my through many a miserable day
Air One or even better the Refuge Radio (but I can't get it in out here)
Miriam's Massage
Knitpicks.com - best yarn prices I've found
Facebook - but it's a time sucker
Sudoku
Malarky - great family game, especially when you spend more time arguing about the rules than playing the game
Kohl's clearance racks
Duluth, MN - one of my favorite places to visit
Caribou Daybreak coffee - mmmmmm!
Costco - I find deals and the kids like the free samples
Dove chocolates (need I say more - it's chocolate!)
Ghirardelli chocolate chips - they make all the difference in the world
Macintosh computers
Mercer Mayer books - love looking for the little spider or mouse on each page
Dr. Suess - Bartholomew and the Oobleck is still one of the best
Behr and Benjamin Moore paint - still prefer this to just about anything else - I don't care what Consumer Reports says
Wooster's little purple brush - the best angled brush for a woman's hand
Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece yarn - best for baby hats
Aveda Replenishing Body Lotion - works great for dry skin and I love the smell
Tea tree oil - works great on canker/cold sores (if you can get past the taste/smell) and on cuts to disinfect

the pastor's ass

I get into trouble all the time for being myself and being misunderstood. The little bit below really tickled my funny bone. Hope you enjoy it too.

The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again.



The local paper read: 
PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT. 


The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read: 
BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. 

The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN. 


The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. 

The next day the paper read: 
NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10. 


This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild. 

The next day the headlines read: 
NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE. 


The bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is...being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery...even shorten your life. So be yourself and enjoy life.



Author unknown

lessons from 2008

This year for once I am actually relieved to put the past 12 months behind me. In spite of a difficult 2008, it hasn’t been without its lessons.

I have learned:

The UP can be very cold in August when the wind comes the wrong way off “the Lake.” Next time I venture that way I will pack clothes for at least three temperature ranges - warm, cold and colder.

The grass is never greener on the other side of the fence. I used to romanticize working outside the house, imagining that getting out would be both fun and fulfilling - and it was, to a point. (The extra income was fabulous!) After that, you still have laundry to do and floors to scrub. And you can’t wear pajamas all day.

You get what you pay for. This goes for power tools and toys (sometimes they’re one and the same). Cheap tools just aren’t worth the trouble or the struggle or the noise they make as they protest cutting through 2x4’s or plywood.

Safety first. Two-by-fours can be projectile weapons that cause much pain. I should probably take this one to heart and get back in the garage to put the guards back on my table saw. Maybe I will when the weather warms up.

Parenting is a bit of a guessing game. Discipline? Activities? Sports? Bedtime? But, when you finally realize what a child loves to do and what he is good at (and if you’re lucky enough to have it be the same thing), you really need to, as a parent, encourage that. Who knows, you could have the next Wayne Gretsky or Jimi Hendrix on your hands.

You will never, ever be able to guess what might be required of you as a parent. That might be mopping up puke in the middle of the night or it might be playing referee/coach to two little wanna-be wrestlers, trying to teach them a double-leg takedown or a half-nelson. (Aren’t you impressed that I even know that much?) All you can do is go with the flow and do your best, even if it requires you to get down on all fours on a wrestling mat.

Saunas are a necessity to life.

Construction projects will take twice as long as you planned and cost you twice as much as you hoped.

Good music soothes the soul - somtimes lyrics can carry you through the day. Right now I’m humming Sanctus Real’s “Whatever You’re Doing” - (Whatever you’re doing inside of me/It feels like chaos but I believe/You’re up to something bigger than me/Larger than life something heavenly.)

Internet shopping is a lifesaver (and saves on the pocketbook too.) What did we do before Amazon and free shipping on orders over $25?

God is with us always, even if we don’t feel like He is, and maybe even especially when we don’t feel like He is.

And finally - there is power in prayer. Thanks so much for your prayers for us this year - you have blessed us and helped us through 2008.

merry christmas

And, yes I tried to color-coordinate for pictures - which worked fine until firstborn's love of the Vikings decided to show through. Oh well, merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. Including the Vikings.

see a penny

I just received a little story via email that really hit me.

A woman and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at the husband’s boss’ home. The man was very wealthy and took them to an exclusive restaurant one evening. As they were about to enter the restaurant, the boss stopped suddenly, looking down at the pavement.

The woman wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts. Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny.

He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure. How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She causally mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some value.

A smile crept across the man’s face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see. She had seen many pennies before! What was the point of this?

“Look at it.” He said. “Read what it says” She read the words “United States of America.”

“No, not that; read further.”

“One cent?” “No, keep reading.”

“In God we Trust?” “Yes!” “And?”

“And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin. Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me telling me to trust Him? Who am I to pass it by? When I see a coin, I pray, I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him. For a short time, at least, I cherish it as if it were gold. I think it is God’s way of starting a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful!

I got to wondering how many times I’ve simply passed up on a penny, thinking it wasn’t worth much or that it was probably filthy. I’ve never bothered to look at it as a reminder from God to trust Him, no matter what.

Could I honestly read the words and say to myself, “In God I trust?” Do I trust Him completely, totally and with everything? Good times and bad times?

If I were to see a penny, and stop to pick it up, perhaps I would then realize that the things I have been worrying or fretting about are things that most likely I cannot change.

If God is trying to start a conversation with me, it is a good thing then that pennies are plentiful and that He is patient.

sunday bathing

Just imagine what would happen if people tried avoiding bathing with the same excuses they use for avoiding church.

puzzles

I usually consider myself a problem-solving kind of gal. I do Sudoko. I can conjugate verbs. I know how to find the area of a triangle. I can visualize things in 3-D (a very helpful talent when trying to imagine what a bathroom floorplan will look like and how high you should build the shower walls.) The trouble is, seeing something doesn't necessarily mean making a decision is any easier. But that's another topic for another time.

So, yes I can generally figure out things and how they are supposed to work, except anything related to physics. Worst subject ever.

Today, I finally got a chance to sit down and play around with the serger I bought three weeks ago and hadn't even taken out of the bag. You'd think I would have got right to the challenge of it all, but... nope. The sad thing is, the first thing I sewed with it was my brother's underwear. Gross, huh?

Oh please. They were brand-new and too long for him. So, yes, the serger got broke in by hemming the waistband on some Hanes boxer-briefs. SAD.

But, the darn machine is a nightmare. It's got more levers and switches than any power tool I've ever come across. Right now, I'd take a table saw over this gadget. I've only mastered one stitch - and that took an hour just to figure out all the different things I had to switch around and then rethread. Now that I want to do a three-thread overlock stitch, I had to turn one lever, switch one needle, change the presser foot and of course, rethread the entire machine, in the right order. I gave up tonight because I couldn't tell the difference between the blue dots and the green dots which are supposed to show you how to thread the thread through all these little guides and such.

Is this a sign that I'm getting old? Or lazy? Or maybe I'm just not as smart as I thought I was. One thing I know - this is why I never liked puzzles. I need instant gratification. I need to see some progress - a stitch on fabric, a row of knitting, a completed square of numbers in Sudoku, not billions of pieces on a table in no particular order, just waiting to get chewed on by the baby.

Puzzles can wait until I'm really old. Or until there's no danger of losing pieces. Or until I have no brain cells left in my head to figure out other, better, more enticing problems - like how to tile a mud-set shower or why my kids always fight.

the rules

Yes, I admit I'm a bit crazy to take four children garage saling, but hey, a mom's got to do something to save money, clothe children who consistently wear holes into their jeans (and feed an addiction at the same time.) Here's how I manage without going too crazy.

First, I'm not afraid to use bribery and fear to accomplish my goal of outfitting six people on an annual clothing budget of $247. Second, I have a set of rules: (Disobey them at your peril).

1. Do not open the van door to yell out that you're bored.
You will be sorely punished for this and miss your "turn" out of the van. Also, you will be punished depending on the level of humiliation and embarrassment your mothers feels. There are many things you can do to not be bored. You can watch people. You can eat whatever you can find on the floor. You can play with the 25-cent toy you just got at the last garage sale. You can play I Spy. You can get out of your seat, but you cannot punch, hit, kick or scream (see below).

2. Do not scream inside the van in case someone hears you and calls the police.
You will go to jail and so will your mother. This is why the van has tinted windows so that nosy strangers cannot see that four children have been left unattended in a vehicle. Because you cannot be seen, you need to not be heard - you might give someone walking by a panic attack if you let out a random screech because your brother pinched your cheeks. If that happens you will go to jail or the hospital or perhaps both.

3. Only one child goes out with mom at a time.
If there are two garages sales next to each other, that counts as one turn, not two and it is that person's lucky day. Do not fight me on this or you will lose your turn. Mom, despite appearing to be capable and worthy of some parenting award, is not able to handle more than one child at a time.

4. You will not get any more toys.
We are looking for clothes. If by some miracle we find a sale that has matchbox cars for 25 cents, you will have to find one for each boy so there won't be any fights. You are expected to play with that one item for the remainder of the hunting time. If you get bored with that, tough. You are to come along willingly and without rolling your eyes while your mother holds up jeans to you to see if they fit. You are expected to try on jackets and sweatshirts, even if it's 80 degrees out. You are expected to not get lost in a crowd. You are not to beg for anything. This is a mission, so you will act like a soldier. Say "Yes, ma'am" to that.

5. You will get plenty of snacks so you will not starve.
At each sale, your mother will divvy out whatever she has scrounged out of the pantry. That may or may not include raisins, apples, bananas, animal crackers, pretzels, candy and graham crackers. You may even be lucky enough to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if you mother is truly on the ball.

6. Your mother's taste in clothes will overrule any opinion you may have.
This should be self-explanatory, but if not: if it fits, doesn't have holes, is less than $1 and not an ugly color, you will be wearing it.

7. You cannot have another movie.

8. Yes, you can pee in a water bottle.

9. Do not tell your father how much we spent.
Tell him how much we saved.

10. This is fun.
You will enjoy it. End of discussion.

i feel good

I feel alive again.

And all because I FINALLY got to partake in one of life's greatest pastimes - garage sales. I love the thrill of trying to find things I need, things I can use and things I love - all for a bargain.

It was all-city garage sales in Cokato this weekend and I, even with four kids in tow and rain to boot, couldn't miss the fun. Technically the big sha-bang isn't supposed to happen until Saturday, but there were plenty of sales open already today. I might even have drive the 1/2 hour tomorrow for more (if I can pry hubby's hands off his wallet.)

All told, I got five skirts, four pairs of pants, one pair of brand new casual sneakers, five tops, six dresses and two pairs of pj pants. All for the bargain price of $18.50. One of my favorite things was a vintage-looking dress, but, it's a bit on the tight side, so I might actually have to start watching the ice cream at bedtime so I can wear it more comfortably this summer.

I spent a grand total of $37.25 (as near as I can tell) and managed to get a little something for everyone. I found a backpack for one of the boys. Two pairs of winter boots for next year. Every day jeans. Jogging pants. Swim trunks. And a couple of every day sweatshirts for the boy who keeps losing his. I think I'll dock his allowance the $1 it cost me.

I even got lots of things to rip apart for the yarn or the fabric. Pretty soon you'll hear my serger whirring as I create new things out of size 14 pants or a size 16 dress. (Totes maybe?)

The day wasn't without its frustrations though. I found a stack of the exact right size jeans for boys #2, only to discover the price tag at $3 and holes in both knees of most of them. Pretty much walked out of that sale shaking my head. Why people think they can charge clearance prices for used merchandise is beyond me. Seriously - I bought brand-new jeans at JCPenney last week for $4.04 - better than garage sale prices, but not as much fun without the thrill of the hunt.

The boys didn't have a real great time. We got a late start, so I kind of figured we might need lunch, so I packed up bananas, bread, peanut butter, chips and forgot to bring a knife. Number One was head cook in the van and was more crabby than Chef Ramsey after trying to peanut butter bread with a tortilla chip. Thankfully we had wet wipes in the diaper bag.

The boys got bored pretty quickly, but were easily distracted with goldfish crackers, pretzels, animal crackers and black licorice. And they got the luxury of having their own water bottles. (Hey, we're thrifty around here - besides the more they drink, the sooner they'll have to pee.)

Four and a half hours later, we made it home with eight bags full of stuff, two very crabby boys and one happy mama who feels good.

slogging along

Yesterday we said goodbye to a cousin's 19-month-old daughter. It was very sad, very painful and very, very emotional.

I'm so grateful that I have an understanding husband - he actually offered to come with me because he knew it would be a tough time for me, bringing up lots of recent hurts and emotions.

That being said, obviously the funeral wasn't about me. It was so tragic seeing a little blonde-haired beauty lay in a casket. It was so heart-breaking to see a young couple lose their only child. It was just wrong.

There were glimpses of good mixed in with all the sadness though. This little girl's grandpa wrote a very eloquent piece about what he learned from her - mostly humor and to be steadfast in life. The pastor gave a very interesting sermon and used a gospel story that I never would have imagined at a funeral. He spoke from Luke 24 about the two men walking on the road to Emmaus (this was shortly after Jesus' death). He described them as "slogging along down the road" - a terrific word picture of how life is during grief. He also had very appropriate, understanding and kind words for the parents as to what they would expect during this next stage of their life, and how people would come alongside them to support them in their grief. I felt as if either this pastor had lost a child or God had given him perfect words because his message was so insightful about grief and what it can and will do, and how to work through it. He even talked about leaning into the pain at times, embracing it - a very difficult thing to do, but necessary for healing.

It was a helpful message for me as well.

At the grave site, just as one of the pastors placed the dirt on the coffin in the shape of the cross, a huge gust of wind came up, whipping the canvas of the canopy tent and making a powerful, whooshing sound. I'm still not sure if it meant anything, but the timing was peculiar.

These parents are in for the test of their lives and I pray that they will lean on each other, trust that God is sovereign and use this pain to better their ministry (they are both pastors). I wanted to warn them what God will likely require of them in the future, but I didn't dare. I know from experience that He will place people in their paths now who have also lost a child and will want them to comfort and share in another's pain. The upside is that it makes the loss serve a better purpose. The downside is that it also brings back memories and hurt.

They will be slogging along for awhile, just like I have been. But, the boots we wear get less heavy. The muck we're trying to get through gets less viscous. The steps we take get less timid. Until suddenly, we're no longer slogging. We upgrade to a trudge, then a traipse, then we find ourselves actually walking. It will be awhile before we saunter, glide, skip or run, but we will someday, when our tears have washed all the weight off our boots and we can fling them off to run barefoot.

one of those days

This is how life goes sometimes.

I was supposed to pick up my husband's coworker's son after school. Single mother who didn't have any other options since her after-school daycare was in Europe. Thought I had timed it okay to meet him at his bus drop location and I would have made it if it wasn't for road construction. Stopped traffic in front of Subway - police lights flashing, fire trucks parked nearby and we didn't move but inches at a time. Did I mention this child is in kindergarten?

I'm praying desperately for the bus to be late as I finally get past all the equipment and head out of town. Find the house. No kid. No bus. No nothing but a panicky feeling.

I thought perhaps there's a chance he's waiting on the porch. Drove down a slushy driveway. Did I mention we got six inches of snow the night before? And the driveway wasn't plowed. No kid. No one home. So, I tried to turn around. Wheels spin. I move half an inch. Back in drive and I move two inches. This cannot be happening to me. Not only have I lost a kid, I've managed to get stuck in some stranger's driveway who is halfway across the world. Back and forth - reverse to drive to reverse and all I'm doing is flinging snow everywhere and making ruts.

Last ditch effort I floor the gas pedal, slide sideways and am on my way out the driveway. At the end of the road I stop and wonder what the blankety-blank I'm supposed to do now. I call the mother. Her phone is turned off because she's at a training session.

I had the divinely-inspired thought to call 411 to get the elementary school's number - they wouldn't lose a kid like I did, right? Talking to the secretary, she wants to first know who I am before she'll give me any information. I debated whether or not to tell her I was an overworked, underpaid, slightly mental, paint-covered, minivan driving mom who got roped into picking up a kid I've never seen by my in-the-doghouse husband who volunteered me for this task.

I didn't. Instead, I apologized for the traffic, being late and gave her my name and who I was trying to find. "Oh, he's still on the bus - they're trying to reach his mom to find out what to do with him," she tells me, a bit curtly I might add. Great, no hiding this blunder anymore. "You'll have to call the bus garage."

I get that number, dial it and ask for Deb. She assures me that yes, this child is not lost somewhere on the side of the road and gives me directions back into town to the garage. I arrive in six minutes and see another sheepish mother chaperoning a little girl to a van that looks every bit as dirty as mine. Inside the office are four people, all having a good chuckle at my expense. "Oh, don't worry," one lady says. "This happens more often than you know." Somehow that doesn't make me feel better. I simply sigh and say, "It's been one of those days," as I notice paint in my hair.

The bus driver emerges from the back with my stray package and I ask him (as he looks at me as if I'm a stranger, which of course I am) if he's ready to go see the boys. He nods and when I tell him I've got a snack for him in the van (my attempt to assuage my guilt and buy his affection), the bus driver tells me, "Oh, we already took care of that!" and hands him a bag with gum and two suckers. Grrrr - so much for making things better.

So, we finally got on the road 45 minutes later than scheduled, so of course we arrive late to pick up my kids from their daycare facility. (It's called Grandma & Grandpa's.) Grandma gets a good laugh when I recount the events and when I tell her I am not meant to deal with kids. She tells me to go home and write about it.

A few minutes later, we're back on the road for home. As we're driving I have the sinking feeling all will not be well when we get there. And I'm right. We are locked out of the house. I have no keys for the front door and darling hubby locked it. (My keys got left in the diaper bag up north Easter weekend and since I wasn't the one who brought the diaper bag into the church, I didn't remember to take it out - not my responsibility is my defense.)

So, now we're home with an extra kid hyped up on sugar because by this time he's eaten every last lick and we have no way to get into the house. I briefly thought about kicking the door in, but decided I was already in enough trouble. No way to get ahold of hubby - he's at treatment and they won't disturb the group unless it's life or death. (In my mind it was.)

So, I knew my brother had brought the diaper bag back down with him yesterday, but I couldn't get ahold of him either. No luck with sister-in-law or other brother. I was out of options. Briefly considered the library, but dismissed that with the thought of five children running loose. Then McDonald's crossed my mind - but same issue. That's it - we're going on a road trip to Howard Lake (25 minutes away) and we were going to pray the entire time that baby brother was home and just not hearing his phone. Pray. Pray. Pray.

I call the unsuspecting mother and leave a voicemail, telling her to ignore any other messages she might have and that yes, I am a responsible person and have managed to reclaim her kid, then tell her about the keyless situation and where we're now heading, all while the kids are screaming and singing and yelling and waving their arms behind me.

Yay! Brother dear's car is in the driveway and the bag is on the floor in the back seat. At this point I decided if he wasn't in the house I was going to break the window and take my chances with the law. Luckily he was inside and wasn't answering my desperate calls for help because his phone doesn't work. (I learned this after I chewed him out for not answering his blankety-blank phone - put tail between legs and apologize immediately.)

So, I get the keys and a call from extra kid's mom. Thankfully she didn't sound too shook up about anything (not like me anyway) and she was already back from her training. So, we found a halfway point to meet and 15 minutes later I successfully completed the handoff and my community service, without even having to entertain the child at home. (Maybe that was God's way of protecting me since I am so much not a kid person.)

When we finally made it home and inside, I could do nothing more than stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. One of those days took everything out of me.

spring fever

Most people, after catching spring fever, daydream of warmer weather, planting a garden, seeing the first robin pecking out worms, wearing t-shirts outside. Not me. I dream of garage sales.

I know this MN winter is getting long when I literally wake up from a random garage sale dream. Last night, I dreamt I found the sale to beat all sales - a little bit of everything packed into two garages and run by four women. I couldn't stack wool sweaters (to felt), men's dress shirts (to repurpose), fabric (to make totes and bags) and other miscellaneous goodies quick enough.

I was salivating over things I don't even like - salt shakers, belts, knick knacks and even a crocheted doily. Yuck.

When I finally had shopped myself silly and couldn't balance my stack anymore, I panicked because I couldn't find my purse. It was lost amidst the junk somewhere. Credit cards, check book, cash and wallet all gone. I had six ladies digging through stuff while I backtracked my path, all of us searching for the missing bag.

At that point, minus even purchasing all my newfound treasures, I woke up in a cold sweat. But that might have been hormones too.

Either way, the lost purse nightmare was over, leaving me only to await the true harbinger of spring in Minnesota - garage sale signs.

inheritance

Hubby was driving the boys home the other day when Number Two blurted out: "Dad, when you die, I get the truck."

No sympathy, no sadness - just a simple inheritance request. Here's what I want when you die. Think my parents would be a little offended if I approached them like that.

Number One was also in the vehicle and he retorted with: "Well actually, it says in the Bible that the firstborn gets all the property and stuff, so I'd get the truck!"

Hubby didn't quite know what to do with either comment, except laugh.

It got me thinking about what we often want as our own inheritance. We sometimes even expect that we'll get it. We want or demand good health, wealth, love from family and friends, an easy life and no personality conflicts. When we don't get what we think we're entitled to, we sometimes get a bit cranky.

"I'm a good person! I deserve this! Why should I have to suffer? Why is my life harder than Joe Blow and he's a much worse person than I am?"

Life is hard. Life isn't fair. We can ask for things all we want, but it doesn't necessarily mean we'll get them. And, if we do, it doesn't mean at all that we deserve them.

I don't deserve a respite from tragedy any more than my son deserves to inherit a used Toyota Tundra. It may happen; it may not. The point is whether or not we're grateful for what we have and grateful for what we have to endure.

I'd still take the truck over some parts of my life though.

decorating dilemmas

I was a Scrooge last year at Christmas-time. No tree. No stockings. No decorations. Bah! The kids were lucky to get a wrapped gift. (All because of one very active little boy who would’ve consumed every shred of wrapping paper, tore every ornament off the tree and probably electrocuted himself with the blinking lights.)

This year, I’m not going to be so lucky. The boys have finally figured out their greatest strength and my greatest weakness. No human adult can endure the pleadings of children who have learned how to appear deprived of something. If they ask enough times, with sad enough faces, they will probably get to put up a tree this year.

Their sad sack routine worked on hubby quite well. In the five years we’ve been in this house, we have never put up Christmas lights outside. Until yesterday. Apparently Dad is no match for three convincing beggars.

I came home tonight to a very pitiful-looking house. The lights were pretty much ridiculous. Whole strands of icicles aren’t lit, making the roof line looked dashed. And because he could only scrounge up three strings of lights, part of one string was left hanging down the edge of the house.

If I can’t find any more lights hidden among the mess in the garage, I’m going to have to secretly make a run to Wal-Mart to help improve the appearance of our home. (He said not to buy any more lights this year, but to wait until they’re on clearance AFTER Christmas.) Thankfully, I know another of his weaknesses - he will never know where I found them. What these old things?

Normally I wouldn’t care what the place looks like, but this is even beyond my low standards. I’d guess there 480 lights lit out of 1000. It looks like something a kindergartner would have put up.

The boys were happy though. Until they realized that they could con me the same way they did their father. Only now their target was the inside decorations.

Mom, when are we going to decorate? Mom, when are we going to get a tree? Mom, can I have a tree by my bed? Mom, come back here!

I told them we had to wait until it snowed before we could get a tree. (That was mainly just to get back at hubby for sending them inside to bug me with their begging. He can traipse around through a foot of snow trying to find the non-existent perfect tree.)

Actually, I usually tell him to find the skinniest, most scraggly tree at the farm. That way I know it will fit in the house and will fit in with the threadbare couch, the stained carpet and the windows that haven’t been washed in...well, let’s just keep that my little secret. We take pity on the overlooked trees with bald spots and missing branches. When a tree has to go against a wall, it’s better to have a flat spot anyway. By the time our ornaments are on, the tree always looks just fine. I’m not out to win any awards for my holiday decorations and I’m not inviting anyone over who might critique me.

If I do get around to decorating this season, or if the kids finally wear me down, I’ll have another problem on my hands. I’m tired of the decorations I’ve used since number two was born. How many years has that been anyway? I’m not sure if I can bear to see the same old things another year, so who knows what I’ll come up with. I thought about doing a popcorn garland, but then realized that I’d have a toddler eating snacks off the tree all day.

Maybe pom poms. Or coffee filter snowflakes. Or maybe even cute little knitted stockings that I have no time to knit. Oh well, I can dream to be Martha Stewart.

I have never been sentimental about ornaments or even understood purchasing a new ornament for children each year. I have slowly whittled our Christmas decorations down to two Rubbermaid containers and much of that will probably get pitched this year too. I like to change things around too much. Which is incredibly ironic since I don’t want to put the things up in the first place because then I’d have to dust the shelves and change the decorations that are there. Well, mainly because I’d have to dust.

It’s hard to try to change things when you’re lazy and when your budget doesn’t allow for purchasing new decorations each year. Maybe I will have to take hubby’s advice and hit the after-Christmas sales that start at 6 a.m. with lines formed in the cold and in the dark. Nah.

Gotta come up with something better. Maybe I’ll sic the kids on Grandma. Or better yet, they can help Grandma decorate this year. Happy Christmas to all.

laughing it up...

I like to laugh. It doesn’t matter if it’s laughter from a good joke, a well-timed pun, a dead-on impersonation, a sarcastic comment or even a clever practical joke. God has made me a laugher.

“If you ask me, I think it is often just as sacred to laugh as it is to pray . . . or preach . . . or witness. But then – laughter is a witness in many ways,” writes Chuck Swindoll in The Winsome Witness.

I wonder if that’s because people may not remember what you say, but they will remember how you made them feel. When writing, I get a much more positive response when I poke fun at myself or my life. Whenever I’m planning something, I like to put it together with a few laughs thrown in. I love to see the smiles and hear the laughter that can come from close fellowship.

God is a god of laughter. There are so many scriptural examples of humor (Abraham & Sarah’s late-in-life son, a talking donkey, a king eating grass, the exaggeration of nagging women, fools and lazy men in Proverbs, the satire and sarcasm in the book of Job and Jesus’ comments about gnats vs. camels and polishing the outside of a cup but not cleaning the inside) that I can’t believe God doesn’t have a sense of humor. In my own life alone, I know God is chuckling about giving me four boys to raise. He has perfectly good reasons for doing that, but I also believe he thinks it’s funny. So do I. (Well, maybe not so much when they decide to mud wrestle or eat raw crab apples.)

I can’t imagine going through life and not seeing the inevitable humor. I often find those little upsets easier to handle when I look at them through the laughter lenses. I’m not sure if that’s what Paul meant when he wrote, “Consider it all joy...” but I’ve tried to take that to heart. There is no reason we can’t be happy, smiling Christians.

Let’s face it - much of life is funny. It’s funny when my baby laughs at his burps or when he thinks he’s sneaky stealing a roll off the table. It’s funny when you realize someone else’s kids can be monsters just like yours. It’s funny when someone can tell a clever joke. It’s funny when you set every clock and timer in someone’s house to go off at 2 a.m. (That wasn’t me, by the way.) And it’s even funny when kids ask, “Why is your belly so wrinkly, Mom?”

It wouldn’t hurt any of us to smile or laugh a bit more.

We don’t have to always look for the negative in things or search for ways to cause problems just because we don’t agree with others. Why is it so hard to build each other up, even when the Bible tells us so? We can’t box people in any more than we can box God in by saying He can only work in certain ways, through certain circumstances or through certain people. The Old Testament clearly shows us that He can even work through a donkey (an intelligent, articulate one at that).

God can work through people, through pain, through circumstances and even through laughter. I think Solomon tried to tell us that when he wrote “A cheerful heart is good medicine.”

And indeed it is. Now, it’s up to me to spread the joy..