Wednesday, April 22, 2009
confession #789
I am such a bad mom that my three-year-old actually fell asleep on the bathroom rug waiting to get his hinder wiped.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, April 6, 2009
boys say the funniest things...
Just spent the last 10 minutes trying to argue with a three-year-old about what his "job" is and he's not liking my "going to bed" definition.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
life is boring?
Ever have one of those days or weeks or months where you feel like you’ve seen it all, done it all, heard it all and put up with even more than the usual?
It looks so peaceful outside as it snows. Inside - not so peaceful and not so quiet. I listen to two boys tease each other and another one run around screaming that he’s Superman, with cape and all. Thing two and three have already been outside in the white stuff, but failed to make it very long without coming back in to complain of the cold and the snow. And of course the sidewalk didn’t get shoveled.
A peek in the living room reveals the entire floor covered in a layer of Legos about an inch thick - you’d think it was snowing candy-colored pieces inside while it dumps white flakes outside.
There have been two meltdowns already this morning because someone didn’t want an orange for a morning snack - because oranges are stupid and sticky and too hard to peel. He wanted a “real” snack - whatever that means.
When the boys get bored, they get hungry apparently. There has been three requests (well, let’s be honest...three whining bouts) for lunch - and it’s only 10:15 am. The complaints have ranged from boredom to hunger to outright exaggeration. Here’s a sample:
“Can I have lunch, Mom?”
“My belly needs food!”
“I’m gonna fall asleep because I’m so starving!”
“I missed lunch for the last three days!”
“I can’t take it anymore!!” (This wasn’t me!)
“Mom, what can I do?”
“Mom, I’m so bored!”
“There’s nothing to do around here!”
Which makes me almost laugh, considering the state of cleanliness, but of course no one wants to admit that a possible solution to boredom is chores.
They only have 37 board games, 5,478 Lego pieces (on the floor), 76 different kind of balls, 269 matchbox cars, 182 books, and enough art supplies to outfit a small preschool. I have banned them from puzzles though, so those are still off-limits. (Wonder why?)
Do you think they want to play with any of it? Do I really have to even ask you that?
Instead, they decide that if they can’t have an early lunch, they’re going to have a “discussion.” They argue about who’s the tallest in the bunch, who is the best Nascar driver, who is the most like Dad, who gets to make their sandwich first, who is the strongest, who’s has the best robber bandana - and on and on and on...
This lasts until one falls off the arm of the couch, after trying to stand on it to be the tallest. He fell into the TV cabinet, bonking the side of his face, much to his brother’s amusement.
“They’re laughing at me!”
“It’s not funny!”
“I think I’m going to die.”
He then kicks his younger brother, who is walking around with a paper bag over his head, oblivious to the commotion going on. This results in punishment time out at the top of the stairs, but on the way up...
“What!?! I didn’t do anything!”
“He was trying bother me.”
“There’s nothing to eat up there!”
“I can’t go up there - I’ll starve to death.”
When he finally has the okay to come down and eat lunch, he’s reached gigantic proportions of brattiness and the mouth gets revved up and off to the races.
So the battle just moved from the living room to the kitchen table and ends when someone calls someone else a girl and a plastic bowl gets thrown. (Should I really be telling you all of this?)
The only good news in this whole ordeal is that the one with the biggest mouth is finally getting a taste of his own blabbery-ness from his brothers. They’ve finally managed to figure out a way to drive him crazy. As proud of them as I am, it’s really not helping me get anything besides this column done.
We have tears and hollering and now a bloody eye at the table. And one wants some serious revenge. Mom turns into the “bad guy” for breaking up a fist fight.
How can all of this be boring?
At this point, I’m not sure whether to crack up with laughter or with tears. These four “blessings” are turning out to be more than I can handle some days. I can’t help but think that God is watching all of this with amusement, hoping I get whatever lesson He’s trying to teach me and hoping I see the humor in all of it as well. He knows I can’t whine to him that I’m bored.
Just as quickly as the fight started, it settled down and I have four quiet boys scarfing down sandwiches, chips and raw broccoli. (This is how to make inside the house as quiet as the snow falling outside.)
“Mom, you are the best broccoli-maker ever!”
“She didn’t make it, God did!”
Ah, yes...that was all worth it. I’ll take that over being bored any day.
It looks so peaceful outside as it snows. Inside - not so peaceful and not so quiet. I listen to two boys tease each other and another one run around screaming that he’s Superman, with cape and all. Thing two and three have already been outside in the white stuff, but failed to make it very long without coming back in to complain of the cold and the snow. And of course the sidewalk didn’t get shoveled.
A peek in the living room reveals the entire floor covered in a layer of Legos about an inch thick - you’d think it was snowing candy-colored pieces inside while it dumps white flakes outside.
There have been two meltdowns already this morning because someone didn’t want an orange for a morning snack - because oranges are stupid and sticky and too hard to peel. He wanted a “real” snack - whatever that means.
When the boys get bored, they get hungry apparently. There has been three requests (well, let’s be honest...three whining bouts) for lunch - and it’s only 10:15 am. The complaints have ranged from boredom to hunger to outright exaggeration. Here’s a sample:
“Can I have lunch, Mom?”
“My belly needs food!”
“I’m gonna fall asleep because I’m so starving!”
“I missed lunch for the last three days!”
“I can’t take it anymore!!” (This wasn’t me!)
“Mom, what can I do?”
“Mom, I’m so bored!”
“There’s nothing to do around here!”
Which makes me almost laugh, considering the state of cleanliness, but of course no one wants to admit that a possible solution to boredom is chores.
They only have 37 board games, 5,478 Lego pieces (on the floor), 76 different kind of balls, 269 matchbox cars, 182 books, and enough art supplies to outfit a small preschool. I have banned them from puzzles though, so those are still off-limits. (Wonder why?)
Do you think they want to play with any of it? Do I really have to even ask you that?
Instead, they decide that if they can’t have an early lunch, they’re going to have a “discussion.” They argue about who’s the tallest in the bunch, who is the best Nascar driver, who is the most like Dad, who gets to make their sandwich first, who is the strongest, who’s has the best robber bandana - and on and on and on...
This lasts until one falls off the arm of the couch, after trying to stand on it to be the tallest. He fell into the TV cabinet, bonking the side of his face, much to his brother’s amusement.
“They’re laughing at me!”
“It’s not funny!”
“I think I’m going to die.”
He then kicks his younger brother, who is walking around with a paper bag over his head, oblivious to the commotion going on. This results in punishment time out at the top of the stairs, but on the way up...
“What!?! I didn’t do anything!”
“He was trying bother me.”
“There’s nothing to eat up there!”
“I can’t go up there - I’ll starve to death.”
When he finally has the okay to come down and eat lunch, he’s reached gigantic proportions of brattiness and the mouth gets revved up and off to the races.
So the battle just moved from the living room to the kitchen table and ends when someone calls someone else a girl and a plastic bowl gets thrown. (Should I really be telling you all of this?)
The only good news in this whole ordeal is that the one with the biggest mouth is finally getting a taste of his own blabbery-ness from his brothers. They’ve finally managed to figure out a way to drive him crazy. As proud of them as I am, it’s really not helping me get anything besides this column done.
We have tears and hollering and now a bloody eye at the table. And one wants some serious revenge. Mom turns into the “bad guy” for breaking up a fist fight.
How can all of this be boring?
At this point, I’m not sure whether to crack up with laughter or with tears. These four “blessings” are turning out to be more than I can handle some days. I can’t help but think that God is watching all of this with amusement, hoping I get whatever lesson He’s trying to teach me and hoping I see the humor in all of it as well. He knows I can’t whine to him that I’m bored.
Just as quickly as the fight started, it settled down and I have four quiet boys scarfing down sandwiches, chips and raw broccoli. (This is how to make inside the house as quiet as the snow falling outside.)
“Mom, you are the best broccoli-maker ever!”
“She didn’t make it, God did!”
Ah, yes...that was all worth it. I’ll take that over being bored any day.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
my gift to you
I ran across all these things on etsy.com and wanted to share them with you today, as a special thank you for reading my blog and (hopefully) enjoying my sense of humor.
Happy April Fool's Day!
Happy April Fool's Day!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
snow day
Number Four was looking out the window at all the huge flakes coming down. He was not happy because he wanted to go out and pick rocks. (I didn't even ask.)
"We should probly take the vacuum outside and vacuum up all that snow!" he decided.
I couldn't agree more.
"We should probly take the vacuum outside and vacuum up all that snow!" he decided.
I couldn't agree more.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
taking a deep breath
I am still alive. I think. Just pinched myself to make sure.
Ouch.
Yep, still here.
Not sure if that makes me happy or not - I'm ready for Jesus to come back any time now...
My days lately are consisting of putting out one fire after another - either because of a lack of planning on my part or things that pop up that "have to get done today." I'm be-bopping between wrestling practices, cement board cutting, cooking, cleaning, laundry, home-school, knitting hats, mailing hats, trying to be a good wife, trying to be a good friend on facebook and grocery shopping. I occasionally get a shower in there somewhere.
Last Sunday I noticed that all three kids were wearing clothes that were at least a size too small - slightly embarrassing (for me, not them - they're boys. They could care less if something doesn't fit as long as it doesn't hurt.) So, have to add that to my five-mile-long TO-DO list. Sort through clothes in four different dressers.
Sometime this week I have to figure out what I'm going to order/buy at the annual MACHE (homeschool) convention on Friday, finish a preemie hat, get overdue books to the library, finish taxes (grrr!), drive to Thing #1's writing class, two or three wrestling practices (for the boys, not me), edit hubby's resume, make eight meals, keep myself from nibbling on frozen cookie dough, finish a newsletter and start designing a new one, write up a knitting pattern for a felted purse, not to mention the bathroom that just won't go away.... Sigh.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord... What do you do if you can't catch your breath?
Ouch.
Yep, still here.
Not sure if that makes me happy or not - I'm ready for Jesus to come back any time now...
My days lately are consisting of putting out one fire after another - either because of a lack of planning on my part or things that pop up that "have to get done today." I'm be-bopping between wrestling practices, cement board cutting, cooking, cleaning, laundry, home-school, knitting hats, mailing hats, trying to be a good wife, trying to be a good friend on facebook and grocery shopping. I occasionally get a shower in there somewhere.
Last Sunday I noticed that all three kids were wearing clothes that were at least a size too small - slightly embarrassing (for me, not them - they're boys. They could care less if something doesn't fit as long as it doesn't hurt.) So, have to add that to my five-mile-long TO-DO list. Sort through clothes in four different dressers.
Sometime this week I have to figure out what I'm going to order/buy at the annual MACHE (homeschool) convention on Friday, finish a preemie hat, get overdue books to the library, finish taxes (grrr!), drive to Thing #1's writing class, two or three wrestling practices (for the boys, not me), edit hubby's resume, make eight meals, keep myself from nibbling on frozen cookie dough, finish a newsletter and start designing a new one, write up a knitting pattern for a felted purse, not to mention the bathroom that just won't go away.... Sigh.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord... What do you do if you can't catch your breath?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
ha ha ha
I swiped this from Krista's blog - have no idea where she got it. It's so funny, I don't care if I might be breaking any blogging etiquette. Enjoy!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
morning alarm
My wake-up call came at 6:10 this morning.
I heard banging downstairs - even to make me think there was a small bear rummaging through my cupboards, clanking dishes around. Turns out it was just Thing #4. The dishwasher hadn't been run last night, so he was improvising with the ceramic bowls for breakfast - five bowls were stacked atop each other on the kitchen table, apparently one of each of the boys and for Dad. He had pulled the gallon of milk out and there was a fresh box of granola on the table next to the teetering bowls.
And I did not react pleasantly to being woken by clanging below my bedroom when it was still dark out and I had three more good hours of sleep available. I hustled him out of the kitchen and put the milk away. He ran off crying back to bed.
Hubby rolled over when I crawled back under the warm covers and wanted to know who it was. When I told him, he wasn't surprised. A couple minutes later, just when I was drifting off to sleep, hoping to get back to my dream about Amy Butler fabric, he asked, "Did you hear my alarm go off?"
"Uh, uh," I mumbled.
He thought about that for a moment and then said (looking on the bright side of a not-so-bright morning), "Well, I guess it's a good thing he got up."
I really don't like morning people.
I heard banging downstairs - even to make me think there was a small bear rummaging through my cupboards, clanking dishes around. Turns out it was just Thing #4. The dishwasher hadn't been run last night, so he was improvising with the ceramic bowls for breakfast - five bowls were stacked atop each other on the kitchen table, apparently one of each of the boys and for Dad. He had pulled the gallon of milk out and there was a fresh box of granola on the table next to the teetering bowls.
And I did not react pleasantly to being woken by clanging below my bedroom when it was still dark out and I had three more good hours of sleep available. I hustled him out of the kitchen and put the milk away. He ran off crying back to bed.
Hubby rolled over when I crawled back under the warm covers and wanted to know who it was. When I told him, he wasn't surprised. A couple minutes later, just when I was drifting off to sleep, hoping to get back to my dream about Amy Butler fabric, he asked, "Did you hear my alarm go off?"
"Uh, uh," I mumbled.
He thought about that for a moment and then said (looking on the bright side of a not-so-bright morning), "Well, I guess it's a good thing he got up."
I really don't like morning people.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
what love will make you do...
This is about Valentines day - a little late I know - but I wanted to make sure I got the story straight before I posted.
Hubby did good this year. Not that I doubted him, but years of getting licorice for Valentine's Day have sort of jaded me. Once a year I know I'm going to get bag of red licorice and a package of Ghardetto's mustard pretzels. Not terribly romantic - but still not a bad gift.
This year, he outdid himself. No licorice. But there was a bag of pretzels wrapped up with a card and a gift certificate.
I officially have $25 to spend on whatever my heart desires at the local yarn shop. Yippee! (The down side is that this will require me to make a DECISION, which takes forever, but for me wasting time in a yarn shop is a little bit like taking a long hot sauna - ahhhh!)
But what made the gift even better was the story that went along with it. Apparently walking into a yarn shop (for a man) is probably a bit like a female trying to get her bearings at a gun show. He told me that he peeked into the door and got the shock of his life as five ladies smiled back at him. (Patty, the owner, has a table set up near the front where people meet to work on projects.)
He turned tens shade of red when he had to ask about a gift certificate. "Oh, you need to talk to Patty for that!" He blindly tried to figure out who Patty was, until someone else informed him that she was on the phone.
Then, he got bombarded with comments and questions. (What woman can resist commenting on romanticism?)
"Are you buying your wife a gift certificate for Valentine's Day?"
"That's such a great idea - so much better than flowers or candy!"
"Oh, that's so nice! I wish my husband would do something that nice."
"Can you call my husband and tell him what a good idea that is?"
With all that pressure (and the Valentine hopes and dreams of at least five women riding on his purchase), hubby couldn't just walk out or drop dead from embarrassment. But I'd be surprised if he ever sets foot in that shop again.
I hope I was worth it.
Hubby did good this year. Not that I doubted him, but years of getting licorice for Valentine's Day have sort of jaded me. Once a year I know I'm going to get bag of red licorice and a package of Ghardetto's mustard pretzels. Not terribly romantic - but still not a bad gift.
This year, he outdid himself. No licorice. But there was a bag of pretzels wrapped up with a card and a gift certificate.
I officially have $25 to spend on whatever my heart desires at the local yarn shop. Yippee! (The down side is that this will require me to make a DECISION, which takes forever, but for me wasting time in a yarn shop is a little bit like taking a long hot sauna - ahhhh!)
But what made the gift even better was the story that went along with it. Apparently walking into a yarn shop (for a man) is probably a bit like a female trying to get her bearings at a gun show. He told me that he peeked into the door and got the shock of his life as five ladies smiled back at him. (Patty, the owner, has a table set up near the front where people meet to work on projects.)
He turned tens shade of red when he had to ask about a gift certificate. "Oh, you need to talk to Patty for that!" He blindly tried to figure out who Patty was, until someone else informed him that she was on the phone.
Then, he got bombarded with comments and questions. (What woman can resist commenting on romanticism?)
"Are you buying your wife a gift certificate for Valentine's Day?"
"That's such a great idea - so much better than flowers or candy!"
"Oh, that's so nice! I wish my husband would do something that nice."
"Can you call my husband and tell him what a good idea that is?"
With all that pressure (and the Valentine hopes and dreams of at least five women riding on his purchase), hubby couldn't just walk out or drop dead from embarrassment. But I'd be surprised if he ever sets foot in that shop again.
I hope I was worth it.
Monday, March 2, 2009
progress?
Here's what I should be doing right now - installing slate in the boys' bathroom. But first, I had to clean it all off - filthy! And now I'm getting the cement board seams ready before I can start dry-fitting the 12x12 tiles. Whew! Makes me tired just thinking about it. Playing around on the computer is so much more fun. Just thought I'd give you a peek at my progress. We'll see how long it takes to get the room done. Feel free to hold me accountable.
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