Killing May

May is sort of killing me.  It's like a million different things going on all the time.  

One of my favorite quotes is by John Owen  "Be killing sin or it will be killing you."  There's more to that quote, I cut the first part off.  Whatever, it's May and I have to hurry.

Point:  My new quote is "Be killing May or it will be killing you."

Seriously.

And what do you do, if you're me, and it's already a crazy/busy month?  You decide to paint things that don't actually have to be painted.

My theory is, if life is crazy, just go ahead and make it crazier.  Go big or go home.

Barstools...


And the front door.  It's navy...and hard to get a good pic of.



And we planted some flowers...

Jake had a spring concert so we dressed him up snazzy (in his Easter clothes) and he was adorable.

This is my extra annoyed fake smile because he wouldn't stop being so "adorable."

And this is my new favorite neon polka dotted shirt that I found on sale at the J Crew Factory store (online.)  If I could wear it every day I would.  I'm kidding.  I can wear it everyday and I will.  If something is dotted or striped or glittered it is automatically in my love pile.  

Did I mention that I am super happy that neon is back again.  It's like 7th grade all over again.  I'll try to avoid it from head to toe this time...but I make no promises.

We have our closing Bible Club program tonight (kids ministry) and then I will have officially "killed" May 8th.

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Ironic...

So.  Last week I wrote this post on Words.  And then on Friday I got a call from my First Grade son's teacher about his choice of words.

Irony.

Oh Jake.  

Ben and I like to joke that Jake is (almost) 8 going on 80.  Like a grumpy old man in a young little body.  He's not easily amused or impressed, and on any given day he's pretty easily annoyed by whatever and whomever. And his "filter" is, well...we're working on that.  

It's just one of his quirks.  I like quirks in people, it's what makes us, us.  That being said, the kids has some great qualities too...and dimples.  Dimples are like my kryptonite.  All he has to do is smile... 

At school on Friday one of Jake's classmates declared that it was going to be a great weekend, which Jake then replied something to the effect of "I hope you have the worst weekend ever."  

When his teacher repeated what he said to me, I couldn't help but wish he'd been using some sarcasm...but he hadn't.  Jake was annoyed, and blurted what popped in his head.  

As I sat Jake down that afternoon to talk about it, I said that part of maturing was thinking about what we say before we say it.  Filter 101.   So we ask ourselves, Is this kind?  Is this helpful?

And in the back of my brain God is whispering, do you hear yourself?

And as a parent, I was disappointed that he chose those words...but I've also been there.  Or maybe I am there.  I'm 35 years old, and I've learned to filter thoughts when in public.  And, when you become a pastor's wife, God helps you install a double-filtration system for your tongue.  It's like a requirement. 

But at home...my filter is maybe not working so great.  I'm quick to tell the kids all the things I think they are not doing right. Without really filtering if it's kind and helpful in training them.   And I skip that part because I'm impatient and irritated. 

And that's not ok.

So in the parsonage, we are all working on: Is it Kind?  Is it helpful?  And guess what?

It. Is. Hard.

I was trying to explain to Jake that it's a problem we all struggle with, even grown ups.  But if we don't learn to tame our tongue we end up being rude and hurtful...and someone that people don't want to be around.  

And that got me thinking...maybe the people who don't bother to filter what they say drive me so crazy because the rest of us are doing the work to filter! The hard work.  It's like when I see people in pajama pants in public.  It's not so much that I hate the pajamas (ok, maybe I do) but that if the rest of society goes through the effort of putting on some pants, then so should they.

Wait...was that kind?  was that helpful?  Hmmm.  I'm not sure.  See, still working on that. ;)

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My Mom Jeans

There's some things I don't want to forget...


Like the way...


I wore a new pair of jeans around the house tonight...with the tags still on.  The boys thought I was nuts.  But I needed to make sure I reeeeally liked them before I tore the tags off.  While I tucked the boys in bed(which is usually Daddy's job, except on his men's Bible Study night)during Jakob's turn to pray, he sweetly prayed for his teacher and her family (who tragically lost their 9 year old son in an accident in September,) he prayed that the lunch menu tomorrow at school would be good, and that his mom would take off the stickers from her pants.  Amen.


(I did, by the way, remove the stickers...I do like them.)


The jeans also have a story.  Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa, Ben and I had a few hours to ourselves Saturday night.  We headed to Starbucks and then the mall.  I've been in need of some jeans that fit...running + a vast reduction in sugary treats= smaller size.  FINALLY. 


Side note:  Before you get too excited about the smaller jeans, it's not a big weight loss.  And apparently not noticeable, because not one person has said anything, but it's enough for me to go from "hide my belly that's bulging over my jeans" to "comfy in the next size smaller."  Make sense?


Back to story. I'm not usually picky with jeans...which is likely why I have a closet full of ones that really don't fit right.  So this time I was being choosy.  We walked through the department store: Juniors on right and Women's on left.  In the middle is a denim display of Levis.  They look cute on the mannequin that has only legs so I decide to try them on.  The sales lady, from the women's side asks if I need a room.  She's like seventy years old.  On the way to the fitting room she says, "Have you tried "Not Your Daughter's Jeans before?"


Ummm...here's my thought process:


1 - She's kinda old, shouldn't she think I'm young still?!?  Like shouldn't she have sent me over to the junior section because she was certain I didn't belong in the old lady section?!? Givemeabreak.
2 - As she's leading us to the jeans, I turn around and mouth to Ben not your mothers jeans *eye roll*
3 - Turns out they were fine jeans, just not what I was looking for.


I tried on the Levis and liked them, although the waist IS higher than I'm used to, they were still good.  But, do to the fact I had to try them on in the Womens section, I'm still not sold.  I put them on hold.


20 minutes later, we're walking back through the store, and I head to the Womens register to make my purchase...she sees me coming.  And I turn around and head to the juniors in one last ditch effort to hold onto my youth.  Ben and I scan over the jeans. All the labels say "ultra low rise" which is code for "if you've had babies or are over age 17 your belly is gonna jingle right over it." They also had blingy-bling on the butt pockets, and I am not a blingy-bling on the butt pocket kinda gal.  I'm not against the fake plastic rhinestones...I just don't want them on my backside.  I'm Amish like that.


It's decided.  Back over to the Womens department.  I scan the aisle to the register...it's lined with elastic waist pants...which is apparently where I'm headed to next.  Sheesh.  


Which brings me back to tonight, and me wearing my jeans around the house with tags still on.  


Maybe tomorrow I'll post a picture of my skinny mid-rise women section jeans.  Oh the anticipation...

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Oh Kid...

Jake started Kindergarten this fall.  He turned 6 in June, and was more than ready for the challenge.  He's a little bummed though...apparently Kindergarten is not as difficult as he was hoping for.  This kid kills me.  He's so serious...and shy, but his eyes and expressions say all that his mouth does not.  He's a thinker.  He's always...and I mean ALWAYS listening, and repeating what he's heard.  Even when I'd rather he not.   I tried to explain that right now his teacher is just reviewing what they'd learned in preschool, and soon he'll be learning new sight words and reading books.

His response:  "Mom.  We had to learn about a chair.  What good does that do?  I think they're trying to make me stupider."

Did I mention he doesn't always believe me?

Seriously, kills me.  Love that kid.

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Playing Catch Up...

I hate playing catch up.  Do you?  It requires so much work.  Whether it's trying to catch up with people I've lost contact with (which I do, because I'm terrible at keeping in touch, unless you count Facebook as keeping in touch), or blogging...playing catch up is tiring.  And since my blogging in the past several months has been, shall we say, pathetic, I have a lot to catch up on.  And since "catching up" seems so not fun, I just do what I do best...procrastinate.  I'm like a professional at it these days.

It's impressive.  Except that it's not.

In blogging, and in life, I like to hit the ground right where I'm at.  I like to talk about what's going on now, not yesterday or last week...or months ago.  But I also can't leave this gaping whole in the last few months of our life in 2011.  After all, this blog...my blog is really for me.  To keep track of me...my life, my family, my God.  So I can process the now, and look back on the then and realize how good life really is.  It's a bonus when others join along on the journey...but I write for me...my grammar is hardly good enough to "write" for anyone else. ;)

So I don't forget:

The remodel/addition project started in June and is coming along steadily (it deserves it's own post soon), Noah played catcher on his 3rd grade little league team...and loved it, we went camping with friends, my family loved it and I didn't totally hate it, so we're good to go again next year, Lucy started walking in mid July, Noah went off to Jr. Boys camp for a week...and I survived., the first week of August was:  missionary friends from Brazil, Julie arriving back here, VBS, and missionary friends here to help for VBS.  We celebrated Jake's 6th birthday, and continued Eli's vision therapy (which also deserves it's own post)  We didn't get to the pool as often as we would have liked, but spend plenty of time there for swim lessons.  Eli being baptized.  Moved Julie into college just 15 minutes away. School started August 17th, and fall unofficially begins...for all practicality purposes.   My boys loooove AXE... Jake now calls deodorant "man smell"  and because of the awesomeness of that, the whole family calls it that.  All of that should have been about 45 posts.  But it's not.  And that's ok.

And what kind of  "cramming all things summer into one blog post" be without at least a few pictures?!?

Lucy's favorite shoes.

At the airport with Julie!

Lucy's personality keeps shining brighter and brighter ;)

Getting Julie ready for college.

Eli 3rd grade, Jake Kindergarten, Noah 4th grade...standing in the doorway of the new addition, because next year it will look so different!

There.  Caught up.  That wasn't so bad. :)

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Let Me Get This Straight...

My conversation today...

Me: "Jake, its gonna be nice out today!"
Jake (5): "What do I care? I only care about living and Jesus."
Me: "You don't care about the weather?"
Jake: "I'm just saying, what does it matter?"
Me: "Alrightythen."

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Old Lady

My five year old, Jake, is always listening.  He doesn't miss a thing.  And the memory this kid has is ri-dic-u-lous.   Let us all pray he grows up to use it for good and not evil.


The other night Ben and I were chatting in the kitchen.  Somehow we got onto the topic of a friend's age.  Ben informed me that the person was in fact younger than me, and I just couldn't believe it!  Certainly I was not their elder?!?  Really, I used those words.  


I was wrong.  I am their elder.  Barf.


I went on to explain to Ben how it's not that I feel like 32 (almost 33) is old, it's just that it seems like highschool was just yesterday!  There is some disconnect in my head.  Or I need there to be.  I need to feel the gap from 1996 until now.  But alas, I do not.  


Anyways, fast forward to this afternoon...I'm in the living room changing Lucy and hurrying Jake along to get to afternoon pre-k on time and I hear him yell from the mud room...


Hurry up old lady, you're gonna make me late!


"Did he just call me his old lady?"  I thought to myself.


I gave him the chance to re-phrase his question.  He declined.  He fed me back my own words from the conversation the other night...where I mentioned that I am in fact an old lady.


He kills me.  However, he will now refrain from using the term "old lady" when referring to me...or any other woman for that matter. ;)

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Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

Turns out I had never heard the song Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds until friends mentioned it after her birth. I obviously live under a rock.

Word on the street (ie Google) says the song was written while on LSD. After listening to the song, I'm not gonna argue with that. The verses in the song are bizarre...although I do like the yellow and green cellophane flowers and something about marshmallow pie...but the refrain...oh the refrain. I can't stop singing it to her. I added three different versions of it to my ipod. Elton John, Elton Jon & John Lennon, and a Bono version.

Jake (4 years old) has been making pictures of Lucy. He brought me this one the other day and I had to smile. Like the song says...the girl with kaleidoscope eyes. *smile*

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I Should Have Known Better...

You had me going Jake, you really really did.

For months now, I've seen you playing with the cardboard tube that comes from the center of the toilet paper roll. I've watched you get it wet in the sink, unroll it, let it dry and then use it to paint on. Sure, I thought it was a little weird, but who am I to stand in the way of your creative genius?

For months now, I've also been very irritated with the one and only toilet in our house. It seems to get plugged all the time lately. I've had my suspicions. You were at the top of the list. And yet, you were very insistent that you had not put anything down the potty that is not supposed to go down the potty.

So, I started buying cheaper toilet paper, because someone must just be using too much at a time.

It wasn't until a couple of days ago when I met you coming out of the bathroom, with a fresh cardboard tube, that it hit me. I am the mother of boys, I should have figured this out waaaay sooner.

I'd JUST refilled that toilet paper roll...I knew it had been full. (Sidenote: I've also been perplexed as to why we're going through so much toilet paper the last few months...)

You were indeed right, you had not been flushing anything "foreign" down the potty...just a roll of toilet paper in order to get to the precious cardboard tube. What had I been thinking, all those times I saw you with a new tube?!? That you'd just always happened upon an empty one in the bathroom?!?

You got me kid...you got me real good. But from now on, can you just check the recycling container for some cardboard...I think you'll find it much less work...and probably far less entertaining as well.

Love you, my baby boy who is soon to be a big brother. You never cease to amaze me.

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The Things He Does...

How my four year old eats a Grapefruit...unsupervised.

Take a wild guess who's not allowed in the fridge without supervision. If only that worked...

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Oh That Kid...

Jake, our four year old, has been coming up with some crazy stuff lately.

He particularly likes to tell stories...which is a nice way of saying he lies. It's not hard to figure out the difference between his lie and the truth because he always follows up the humdinger with I'm not even kidding.

Here's some things we heard from his mouth just the past few days:

• I hope we have a baby sister, then she can be my slave. (He's apparently a chauvinist already)
• I want to go with dad, I don't want to stay home with mom, she's naughty to me. (Which made me utter...I'll show you naughty...)
• Mrs. Simons (his preschool teacher) lives at the school...she told me. I'm not even kidding.

This is the same kid who won't dress himself in the morning because he just can't... yet asks me not to walk him into preschool anymore because he's too big for that.

He's the kid who comes down the stairs 500 times after being tucked in for the night. Each time with a convincing story and dimpled smile while saying "I'm sawee mama"

He's also quite insistent that "Corn" would be a great name for the new baby.

He thinks he's got me fooled. He thinks he's got me wrapped around that dimpled smile. And he does. For now. I wish I could bottle up his four year old cuteness...even the "story-telling."

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Can't Come Up With a Title...

This morning in the parsonage...

• I awoke to the fact that Julie will arrive in 35 days...and then I wondered if she'll need knee pads for volleyball camp when she comes, because I'd hate for her to go and not have the appropriate attire on her third day in America. What kind of Pseudo mom am I if I don't even know what she is supposed to wear!?!?

• After dragging myself out of bed, I was greeted by Jake who had picked out his own clothes and dressed himself.

Nice choice with the dark socks and sandals little buddy...elderly men all over would be so proud of you...although I'm not sure they'd choose to wear their shoes on the wrong feet. The shirt on backwards...that's just a bonus.

• I went out to water my plants...still in my pajamas. Classy.

• I found this in my fern:

• I ran over to my neighbors house to take the cookies out of the oven for her (because we live in tiny town and we do that sort of thing...it's the best place on earth.) I still had my pajama pants on....and I was out of breath when I got back. What? How, you ask? Aren't I training for a 1/2 Mary? Why yes, technically I am. Except this week I have not ran once. Not once. I am 14 miles behind for the week...and scheduled to run 9 tomorrow....which is my 11 year wedding anniversary. Did you catch all that?

• I learned something about myself this week. This week has been full of ups and downs. Big ones. For some people, running is an escape. It is not that for me...I so wish it was. Physically, running is a great stress reliever for me...mentally though, it's just one more thing to do...one more thing required of me. This week, I just wasn't up to it. I needed a break. I fell off the running wagon. Monday though...I'll get back on...and pray that my body decides not to punish me too badly for the week long break.

• Tonight, my mom is taking the boys overnight so that Ben and I can have a date and a quiet house. Eleven years...we were babies when we got married. 20 and 23...but we were ready, as crazy as that sounds. And it has been an amazingly wonderful 11 years...which sounds even crazier ;)

• God gets the glory for it. All of it. Happy Weekend!

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My Three Year Old Self...

Jake's been running a fever since Saturday night.  In the wee hours of Saturday morning I began preparing myself for a no-church Sunday.

I don't like those very much.

I don't like being cooped up with a sick child, who tends to be extra demanding and even more difficult to reason with.  Oh, I love him to death.  And I would sit with him day in and day out if need be...you'd also likely find me cowering in a corner somewhere, rocking back and forth while sucking my thumb.  I'm just saying...

Anyways,  the kid looked miserable.  We're talking fever, flushed cheeks, dark circles, limp body...the whole nine yards.  None of this mattered to him.  All he knew was that he wanted more than anything to go to Sunday School.    He was insistent.  He stood in the mud room in his jammies and shoes pleading relentlessly for me to just let him go.

It's days like this that living in the parsonage right next to the church is NOT  exactly helpful.  He could hear everyone coming.  He could see the kids playing outside.  He stood at the window with tears streaming down his face...breakin' his mama's heart.

It blesses me to know he loves Sunday School so much.  I love that he wanted so desperately to be there.  I also knew all the valid reasons why he would need to sit this Sunday out.  Not only was he completely not up to it physically, he'd likely infect all the other little ones with his sickness.  And we all know what that cycle looks like in a little church.

As I watched him, in all his 3 year old stubbornness, I smiled because I knew his intentions were good.  Where and what Jake wanted was not the issue.  It was his condition that needed to change before he could go.  

I saw myself in him.  I saw myself standing in my mud room,  before my Heavenly Father, pleading my case on whatever it was (at the time) that I was convinced I was ready for.  Completely oblivious to my own physical, spiritual and emotional condition.   It was not pretty.

Just as I told Jake no, not this Sunday.  My Heavenly Father is saying, no...not yet.  He doesn't mean no, never...just not yet.  

And like my three year old, I eventually see that my will, no matter how big it is, is no match for the parent. 

Time to stop pleading and convincing God of something that He already knows I'm just not ready for.  Instead, I want to allow Him to show me what needs to change, what needs to be healed first, before He can allow me to move forward.  

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At His Finest...

Jake came into the office to show me his new skill (keep an eye on the feet.)

In case you have a hard time understanding him (while viewing him sideways because I can't for the life of me get it to turn) here's the highlights:

• He attribute his abilities to being 8 years old and having 6 numbers in his name.
• One of the many reasons this kid cracks. me. up.
• I've given up trying to convince him otherwise...good luck to the preschool teacher next year.

Enjoy & Happy Saturday!

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Rascals...

Here's the same two little guys that pulled this shenanigan the other day.

Cute aren't they. Stinkin' cute, if ya ask me.

They crack me up, because they are the best of friends or bickering like crazy...kinda like pretend brothers...kinda like 3 year olds.

Last week the Schwan's guy came to the door and I let him step inside to the living room. Jake started to cry, claiming that the Schwan's man had stepped on his barefoot. While I assured Jake he was fine because I didn't really think the Schwans guy had stepped on his foot, James marched over and stomped on the Schwans guys steel-toed black boots...it's a three year old's version of I got your back.

The Schwans guy and I just looked at each other and chuckled. Little rascals.

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Yiddle Man

Dear Jake,





You crack me up. I wish I could bottle up who you are today and save it for later. The way you say "yiddle" instead of little. Your odd breakfast choices...uncooked oatmeal, for example. You are one of a kind little man.





Someday I will miss the way we battle over the letter and dinosaur magnets all over the fridge. Those dimples that show themselves when you smile, which you know I cannot resist. The way you smile and wipe off every kiss I give you. And whenever I say, I love you Jakob you smile and reply I love daddy or I love Odie...just to be a stinker. Your inability to cope with anything when you are tired, just like your mama.





I tease you that you will always be my baby, to which you reply I AM NOT A BABY! You are getting bigger...but you and your brothers will always be my babies. I want to watch you grow and mature into a godly man, but inside, I will always cherish these moments when you are all mine. These moments when my biggest worry is the fact that you've spread shaving cream all over your bedroom...or cut something into pieces...again.



Can you stay 3 years and 8 months just a little while longer?


Love,





Mom





Lord, help me to cherish these moments...and begin instilling in me the courage I need to face puberty with three boys.





Amen.

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Guilty

A little story.

There once was a young lad in Kindergarten. And while at kindergarten, in his class of twenty some six year olds, he made a small can that held grass magic seed he'd planted and watered and watched grow.

His mom forgot to take a picture of it.

Which is sad...because the little magic seed container never stood a chance after being brought to the Kindergartner's home...where the three year old little brother resides.

The evidence of destruction:

The dumping

The feeble attempt at cleaning up the evidence

All that remains

The culprit...and the punishment

Guilty.

There's a given fact around our home...curiosity kills anything the three year old touches.

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Yeah Right...

He tried to convince me there were really "owies" under each of those.

Sure Jake...whatever you say.

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Giddy

This is what I woke up to today.

And despite the fact that...

• we still have 5 pumpkins sitting on our front steps
• and pots with dead plants in them by the same front door
• and a yard that has yet to be raked free of leaves
• I haven't bought snow boots for the oldest yet
• or dug out everyone else's from the attic
• It's early November....

I am positively GIDDY! The fact that it will probably all be melted by lunch time also helps the giddiness factor...but there is just something exciting about the first snow...or every snow...no matter what a big pain in the butt it is, there's no denying how pretty a fresh coat of white makes everything.

Jake keeps looking out the window exclaiming "Look! It snowed at the neighbors house too!" and when he see the next neighbor's house, he announces the same thing :) It never gets old...

Guess what we're doing tonight? Yep...going to get some snow boots...because if we have them, it's guaranteed not to snow anymore ;)

HAPPY FRIDAY!!!

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The Mischief is Neverending

Dear Jake,

For the millionth time...crayons are for PAPER only.

Not the fridge, window, TV screen, ottoman, wall, doors, dryer door, washer door, kitchen floor, carpet or kitchen set.

And certainly crayons are NOT for your teeth...especially black. I know you think it's funny, and truthfully...it is amusing, but lets not make a habit of it, ok?

Your obedience in this matter would be much appreciated.

Am I clear?

Love,

Your Mommy

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