Graceful Like a Chicken

Honest Chickens

2012-01-31T00:36:00.000-08:00

There is a blogger I read sometimes whose intent is to embrace a fully honest, mindful and self-sufficient lifestyle for herself and her family. This includes keeping their own chickens for eggs and meat. One of her last posts was about the day they slaughtered their first chicken after "chickening" out for six weeks past the normal market weight. When asked how it tasted she replied: "Honest."

We were making pancakes the morning of Liam's Birthday Party. Lily was helping (which meant she was holding the bag of chocolate chips in hopes I would put some in at the end).

"Mom, if I fill up my sticker chart in school I can pick out a prize from the box to give to Liam for his birthday," Lily told me.

"That sounds good. How many stickers do you need?" I asked.

"About six, I think," she said.

"Have other kids already gotten to take a prize from the box this year?" I asked, curiously.

"Yeah, my friend Haley did, and a lot of others," she said, looking a little less excited.

"Well, why haven't you?" I asked.

"Well, Mo-om, that would mean I have to be good," she said.

Now THAT'S what I call an honest chicken. (But we have no plans to eat her just yet.)

Happiest Returns on the Day to my little buddy, Liam!

It's a good thing he doesn't care at all about gifts. He will simply be thrilled to have Lily (and the rest of the brood) there with him while he manages NOT to eat his cake and ice cream, like at his birthday party this weekend. (He told everyone that all he wanted for his birthday was a cake. When we served cake, he did not even touch it. I suppose there is a reason he is under weight!) But we know one thing, he will have a big smile on his face regardless. He's a happy, honest chicken....same ~~chicken~~ stock as Lily.

Ok, I'm done now. :)

Beating a Dead Horse (AKA: Yippee! Someone Left the Lock Open!)

2012-01-29T14:10:00.000-08:00

Seriously, I don't mean to belabor the point but here is a short photo and video segment explaining why I can't turn my back for even a minute.....

"Gee Mom, it's so much more fun to Snap! Crackle! and Pop! WITHOUT the bowl and milk!"

Ever notice how it is never the day BEFORE the floors are mopped that kids manage to dump the entire box of cereal out?

Have a lovely week!

In the Wake of Solomon

2012-01-25T19:43:00.000-08:00

In case you hadn't gotten the memo, it is currently Solomonsoon season in our household. The winds have shifted, dramatically, and around every corner, destruction awaits. While I can't show you proof of the day I heard the shattering glass in the kitchen only to find Solomon happily sitting IN THE MIDDLE OF IT (hey, even I have limits on how much picture taking can happen with danger looming), I can share some of his other less than favorable recent activities.

It was all fun and cleaning until he came walking out with the plunger.....which was slightly wet and I can only imagine how it got that way, ick.....

Then there was the tape....

....that he used as a yo-yo.....

Then, there was the diaper cabinet demolition.....look, ten minutes of fun with the baby-wipes.....not sure why he had to pull the pillows off the couch too but hey whatever.....

He's now getting stronger than the rubber bands......best part is, most of the food was already on the floor far before the tray made it there, like usual and as soon as I start sweeping it up, he comes waddling back to eat from the pile (yes, I do stop him....usually.)

Oh look, what's this picture doing here of my neat and tidy music shelf? Oh wait, where are all the labels on the music organizers? Hmmm......

Oh, right, he pulled them all out, ate some of them, spit others out, and yes, that is the severed end of some earplugs he found in the piano bench.....

And finally, you may recall his love of the dishwasher rack....well, apparently he has moved on to better things:

Before pulling him on out I asked him why he didn't just play with the bottom rack like he used to....he told me that was SO yesterday. Duh.

And yes dear reader, I realize he is likely to break the dishwasher by crawling on the door and pulling on the, um, whatever that thingamajig is but this is so much cleaner than where I found him only moments earlier (pulling the toilet paper off the roll, dousing it with toilet water AND EATING IT!) that I think I'll take my chances. (You know the other kids don't always flush, right? BLECH!)

Can't imagine how this might end.....

Hey look Mom, I'm dancing.....on a stool.....

.....on only one leg!

There he is in a quiet moment.....just looking for trouble.....(give him that mirror will ya!)

I'm Thinking of An Animal

2012-01-24T06:00:00.000-08:00

The following is our first real attempt at keeping the kids focused on a verbal game, in order to keep them quiet, so that we refrain from duct taping their mouths shut. It went something like this:

Me: Ok, I'm thinking of an animal.
Lily: Is it a bunny?
Me: What? No! Just wait, Lily. We'll go in age order. Aidan you're first.
Aidan: Is it a reptile?
Me: No. Madeline, your turn.
Madeline: Is it a bunny?
Me: No.
Kurt: Girls, you need to ask categorical questions first; questions about size and where it lives and....
Lily: How big is it?
Me: It has to be a yes or no question.
Lily: Is it a fish?
Me: No.
Liam: Does it live in a tree? Is it an EEEEEGUANA?
Me: No and no.
Aidan: Does it live on land?
Me: Hmmm, mostly.
Aidan: Oh, I know, is it a, a.....
Lily: Is it a Polar Bear?
Me: It's not your turn, Lily.
Madeline: Is it a Polar Bear?
Me: No.
Lily: Is it a Honey Bee?
Me: No.
Liam: Is it an EEEguana?
Me: Uh, no.
Aidan: Does it have fur?
Me: Yes.
Madeline: Is it a Penguin?
Me: Madeline, penguins don't have fur.
Madeline: Yes, they do.
Me: No, they are birds, they don't.
Madeline: But Penguins are mostly on land and sometimes in the water.
Aidan: Oh I KNOW! Is it....
Kurt and Me: Wait your turn!
Lily: (laughing) Is it a dog?
Me: No.
Liam: Is it an Iguana?
Me: Still no.
Aidan: IS IT A TURTLE?!!!
Me: No. Good idea though.
Aidan: Ooooh man! Oh, wait, I know, it's from that movie, you know, the one I read all the books for....(he runs out of the room then back again) The Lion, Witch and The Wardrobe.
Madeline: Is it a lion?
Me: No.
Lily: (Laughing again) Is it a wardrobe?
Liam: Is it an Iguana?
Me: No and no.
Aidan: Is it a BEAVER!?
Me: Yes! Good Job, Aidan!

This went on a few rounds, guessing at fruit and bugs and planets before Liam wanted his turn.

Liam: I have an animal.
Madeline: Is it an Iguana?
Liam: (With fists excitedly waving up and down into the air like that old guy who loved Raymond on Everyone Loves Raymond) YYYYYEEEES! GOOOOOD JOB! YAAAAY! You GOT IT!

You know, because THAT was a tough one. Gotta love him!

Have a great day!

21 Days of Bliss

2012-01-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

It has been twenty-one days: twenty-one days of the New Year and seventeen since the last Graceful Chicken post. And even that post had been brewing in my head for over two weeks. What is happening to time? January is on its way out, the Solomonater turned one TWO WEEKS ago, and Liam is about to hit the fourth anniversary of his birth. It's insane how fast certain seasons pass us by!

As I was finishing up my 16 mile run today....on the treadmill....I started contemplating why I hadn't written anything recently. Usually I try to stay very present and take in as much as I can so that something pops out at me and forces me to write. Why wasn't I focused? What was draining my energy? (Uh, duh....perhaps reaching the 150th minute of that run??) Wasn't it just last week that we had enjoyed the most exciting Christmas ever? Wasn't it just yesterday that we entered 2012 with a bang of good tidings and hopeful endeavors? Wasn't I still coming off the thrill of having run my New Years Day 10k race (the beginning of that 5 race series I so enthusiastically signed myself up for last October, remember? I have to admit, the enthusiasm had all but puttered out by the time I was dragging myself out of bed and into that 20 degree weather to run on ice and sludge New Years morning.) I ran far faster than I had anticipated, eager to get back home to make our traditional Black-Eyed Peas and Rice, and when checking my time (45:09) on the computer, I realized I hadn't just met my goal of finishing within the top 100 female runners like I had hoped for, I had placed 6th, and 1st in my age category. Kurt made such a big deal out of it, I started to pray continuously for humility, to keep my head on straight and remain aware that it wasn't that big of a deal and that I owe it all to Him who created me. And Humility (yes, with a capital H) did I get. After a week of pseudo-recovery running, I had to take time off due to an over-use injury. And take up swimming again (ick). And then seek out a Physical Therapist. Such is the way with running.

And then, Aidan won the art contest for the neighborhood's phone directory. Not a huge deal but the thrill on the kids' faces was priceless when they received their participation rewards ($10 EACH in Target Gift cards....next year Liam and Solomon are SO entering!) and their own personal copy of the directory, complete with their artwork on it.

And then, winter finally showed up, with only one foot in the door but at least it is beginning to look like it feels outside. We have long awaited its arrival here in MN. Seriously. It's just not right to live in the arctic tundra and to be "dreaming of a white Christmas" instead of actually having one. And I am positive my kids were tired of me repeating "brown....it's the new white." (It's when they started botching it up repeatedly that I realized the joke was long past its prime. It takes me a while sometimes.) And only yesterday did winter seem to tease us with a little snow (yay for the kids....really) and today, already, they are driving us bonkers!

I knew it was getting bad when Kurt looked up at me during breakfast today, nodded toward the kids and asked, "Why did we do this again?"

Yeah, just pass the espresso.

All that to say, I hope you have made the most of the New Year so far. Perhaps you made some resolutions, set some goals, are slowly making your way toward that new and improved you. Maybe you have some exciting things creeping up on the horizon. Maybe you are just happy to still be here and breathing; that's okay, too.

I'll try to stay more present and get some posts in. You just stay on top of that breathing!

The Solomonster

2012-01-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

Having neglected the blog a bit too long, I thought maybe I would start this New Year out with a little update on the Solomonster. After all, he is set to turn ONE on Saturday, assuming he doesn't take his identity too far and get himself into a peck of trouble.

Why the nickname Solomonster you ask? Oh, I was hoping you'd want to know.

You see, like many babies, he is into everything. For instance, there's the time I found him pulling out everything from the kids' cabinet in the art room:

No big deal right?

Then he moved his reign of terror into the kitchen:

Notice, there is even a lock on this cabinet.....he apparently has a radar that senses when they are left unlocked and ready for his investigation....it's especially fun when he empties the cereal boxes. And the cleaning supplies. And the....

Then, he makes his way to our Bible stand.....and while one might think he is simply showing his extremely wise and spiritual nature, obviously living up to his name.....

They'd be a little off for really he is just trying to see how much he can pull down (and then tear apart).

So, since I have stuff to do and can't always be protecting the entire house from his mayhem, he goes into Solomon-tary confinement and immediately he flexes his muscles:

It's all fun and games until the entire changer comes crashing down on him, at which point, he simply crawls out of the rubble and claims his victory.

And then there is the battle at meal times. Look here: Solomonster peacefully eating his breakfast. Notice the rubber bands we have holding his tray onto the high chair.

Now, watch what happens the instant we remove him from bondage and "unlock" the tray.

First, he feels around to find the latch.

He looks up at us, knowing he has it.

He pushes the tray up, looking around to see if anyone is watching.

And finally, the look of innocence. "Whoa! How'd that happen?" (Again....)

Here's the instant replay:

We're currently stocking up on thick, strong rubber bands......

So, Madeline got this cute Mini Lop bunny for Christmas (yes, we know we bring on our own misery and suffering):

Meet Oreo

And Solomonster, what does he do? Well when he isn't sticking his fingers in the hutch trying to poke at Oreo's eyes and grab Oreo's ears, he likes to chase it:

None of these things are abnormal mind you.....matter of fact, other than Kurt and I actually getting the pet rabbit for Madeline's Christmas present, these things are all actually perfectly in line with typical behavior.

But then the other day, as I was doing the dishes, I went to put the dirty plates in the dishwasher and discovered the bottom rack was missing.....at that same moment, I heard a noise that sounded vaguely like a raccoon getting his back legs run over by a tank while trying to escape the grip of an alligator around its waist, and I went running around the corner to find a very frustrated Solomonster.....upset that he wasn't able to get the dishwasher rack around the dining room table.....

The kid is a monster. But at least I know where to look next time I can't find MY DISHWASHER PARTS!

Where will he strike next?

Round and round the house he goes, where he'll stop, nobody knows. But rest assured, I almost always know which little monster did it!

Happy Hanukkah!

2011-12-20T08:48:00.000-08:00

Christmas just wouldn't be the same without playing a round or two of my kids new favorite game: Dreidel. (Don't laugh, there is actually a Major League Dreidel. This is a very competitive game!)

Seriously, it's fun. Of course, I end up having to spin for three of the kids but they don't care so long as they get their M&Ms.....

Why Dreidel you ask? Well, Madeline learned all about Judaism in school last week and one of the parents gave out Dreidels. How cool is that? So, what else are you to do with a Dreidel but PLAY!

The yarmulke just seemed appropriate somehow.

Look at that concentration: he's going for the win here.

Doh! That symbol means nun: you win nothing, you lose nothing. Kinda like playing Dreidel, with M&Ms.

Whether you are Jewish, simply share a religion that started as such, or none of the above,

Happy Hanukkah!

This Year's Tree

2011-12-18T20:48:00.000-08:00

It was part of my family's tradition to get a real Christmas Tree every December (living beachside in FL, it was the only time we really got to miss the forest because of the tree, or is it, smell the tree from the forest....) And so, every year Kurt and I and the kids get a real tree. And although, here in the upper mid-west, there are tree farms all over the place where you can cut down your own, this year we decided just to go to one of the many local tree lots, like sane people do, and pick out a pre-cut beauty, saving us time, gas money, muscle soreness, bickering.....you get my drift.

So, we packed up the kids last weekend and headed to the Boy Scout Troop lot down the street. It was the coldest day so far of this season (of course) and the wind chill was just a wee bit BRUTAL. That said, we decided it was best if Solomon stayed in the truck. Madeline volunteered to keep him company (smart kid) and the rest of us braved the cold to look at the trees. Lily and Liam ran through the trees screaming out that they had found the one with every tree they saw.... most of which looked very similar to the tree we had the year Kurt tried to drive it into the garage. And worse than the trees they were picking were the prices. Really....you can't charge the same price (almost $100) for a 6 ft tree that has huge "holes" in it, as you do the 7 ft trees that are only a little lopsided. They were overpriced to say the least and after a short while, Kurt made his way back into the truck to wait for us to get the hint that we were not buying the tree there. After avoiding eye contact with the few disappointed scouts that had been standing around and shoving the kids back in the car, we were on our way to the local plant nursery, Bachmans.

Bachmans is not the cheapest place on the planet to say the least. But they don't disappoint (unless you count that butternut squash surprise last summer as a disappointment, which I certainly don't!) We were in their greenhouse where they had rows of highly priced beautiful trees. Hot apple cider. No wind chill. It was perfect. And after just a few minutes, we found this enormous, 9+ foot tree that everyone agreed we had to have. (Sorry 3rd world countries, no flock of chickens and a milking cow from us this year!)

Now, we haven't had a tree this big since the year it fell over the night before my Christmas Party and our wonderful neighbor had to come rescue me by helping Kurt get it back up and tied to the walls.

(Do you see a trend here?)

We have always said we would consider it again if we ever got a bigger stand (the one we have *claims* it can hold a tree up to 10 feet but we believe it's max is really closer to 7, and it's a little shady even at that) but those things are obnoxiously pricey. So up until this year we have done the sane, more frugal thing, and bought a normal sized tree; one that doesn't require a ladder to decorate nor invisible hanging wire.

At any rate, in no time at all, we were sporting a tree on the top of our truck that was too big to be netted and inside our truck, a brand new gazillion pound stand, clearly capable of squashing a persons intestines as well as breaking the bank while holding a gigantic Christmas Tree.

So, next came the lights. You may remember from last year that we had to buy all new lights after failing to check them all before putting them up. 900 LEDs later and we were set. Unlike last year, we tried all the strands to make sure they worked this time (they did) and started putting them on the tree. When the last strand was up, here is what the tree looked like:

Apparently this tree is like twice as big as last years.....

So, out I went to purchase more lights. And I wasn't the only one. In over 6 local stores, there was only one box left (two if you count the display strand I purchased, much to the clerks chagrin.) So off I went, 30 minutes away, to buy 10 more boxes of lights in a different town. And in case you are wondering, the store brand LEDs and Philips brand ARE NOT THE SAME COLOR WHITE.

After mixing and matching the two brands, we decided it was in our best interest to take off the original lights and go with the more natural looking ones.

We'll get this down eventually. I just know it.

Our final destination, phew....

And so stood our tree for a week while the kids waited patiently for me to get the decorations from the garage. I got them out yesterday and told the kids to go ahead and get started while I put Solomonster down for bedtime. When I got back ten minutes later, there were no kids in sight. Instead, here is what I found:

An incredibly decorated tree (for 4 rugrats) and an enormous mess.

The Culprits

In case I don't get back on the blog during this beautiful, exciting, joyous, crazy week.....

Merry Christmas To You All!

And to all, a good light....hee hee hee.

The Importance of Competence

2011-12-07T09:47:00.000-08:00

I will not claim to be the most competent person that has ever existed....a far cry from it in oh so many ways. However, if there is one place where I struggle to extend grace and forgiveness, it is when dealing with people who don't take their jobs serious enough to do it well, or at least half-competently so that it doesn't infringe on others. I realize sometimes people are just not that bright and perhaps mediocre performance IS their best, and in those cases, where I have not been graceful, patient or forgiving in my encounters, I am truly sorry. However.....

Rewind back to last week: I made an appointment for a follow-up ultrasound to make sure the fatty tumor I've been sporting up top is as benign as they say it is. I am pretty confident it is nothing to fret over but figured I ought to at least follow-up to be sure. So, last week I made the appointment for this Wednesday, the only day I have with enough free time for such an appointment. To avoid any mishaps in date-setting (like I have recently experienced), I asked TWICE during the conversation for the date and time so that I could add it to both my calendars. I then sent an email to Kurt to check his availability to babysit and when he said he was already booked, I immediately found a friend to take Solomonkey for me. As luck would have it, the friend who was going to watch him became suddenly unavailable when her family came down with the stomach bug. I scrambled to find another willing friend and then sat back, breathing easy.....

....Until later last night when I got a call from the hospital pre-registration. Apparently, even though I did not have to pre-register for the initial appointment, they wanted to do so for this one. I willingly obliged, thinking it would cut some time from the actual appointment and speed up the check-in process. (Oh, what rose colored glasses!)

My conversation went something like this:

Registrar: "What is your last name?"
Me: "Wolf."
Registrar: "Spelled like it sounds?"
Me: "Yes, like the animal."

**Pause**

Registrar: "First name?"
Me: "Karen, with a K."
Registrar: "What's your birthdate?"
Me: "Five...Thirty-One...Seventy-seven."
Registrar: "Um, have you been here before?"
Me: "Well, this is a follow-up appointment. Oh, and I delivered two babies there."

She begins naming off street addresses that are not mine.

Me: "Wow, you have that many Karen Wolfs in there?"
Registrar: "Hmmmm, that's Wolf, W-O-L-F-E, right?"
Me: "No, there is no 'E' on the end." (No biggie, I think. In the almost 12 years I have lived with this name, only a handful of registrars get it right....apparently the spelling of the animal was never a priority in school.....at least she didn't spell it W-U-F-F like has happened on more than one occasion.)

She offers up more addresses I do not recognize.

Registrar: "What's your birthdate again?"
Me: "5-31-77."
Registrar: "And you don't live at (insert random address)?"
Me: "Nope."
Registrar: "Ok, so Wolf, no 'e', and 5-41-77."
Me (now banging the phone against my head and about to call over my 5-year old to ask her how many days are in the LONGEST month of the year because I am pretty sure, unless they recently changed things, there are no months with FORTY-ONE DAYS!): "No, it's May, Thirty-First."
Registrar: "Oh, Wolf, no e, May, First."

I cover the mouthpiece (just in case) and let out the loudest silent scream possible.....my new mantra: We all make mistakes. We all make mistakes. We all make mistakes.

Me: "No. It. Is. The. THIRTY-FIRST." (We all make mistakes.....)

**Pause**

Registrar: "Oh, here it is. You have an appointment on Thursday, right?"
Me (now holding back belligerence through gritted teeth and squinted eyes): "No, it should be tomorrow." I double check my wall calendar and pull up my Google calendar to be sure.
Registrar: "You live at (insert correct address), correct?"
Me (now practicing my yoga breathing: Inhale): "Yes." (Exhaaaaaaaaale)
Registrar: "I show you have an appointment Thursday, not tomorrow. Let me verify your social...."

At which point I went and bought a therapist because I didn't think a glass of wine was going to cut it!

But then, all those little frustrations in life are totally worth it, when I am given sweet pictures like Lily's latest self-portrait:

Which is amazingly accurate for a five year old (and perhaps those working in the scheduling department at the hospital system....)

Have a great day!

Sunday's Reminder: Where is grace?

2011-12-04T19:08:00.000-08:00

Today's post was written a week or so ago after one of life's tougher days. And as I look around the current state of our home (in disarray from a fun-filled weekend of flurried activity that took place after a week stuck inside with an uninvited guest....darn stomach bug...) and I see the fruit flies we are apparently breeding in our fresh evergreen centerpiece (really bugs?) I realize this story is not too far from our present.

****

Today has been an overwhelming sort of day. We awoke to a freezing house (our brand new, less than 4 month-old furnace had apparently called it quits) and, moving slowly in that frozen state, we were late getting out the door for the bus stop. When I got home, I stuck Solomon in the highchair to eat a belated breakfast while waiting for the furnace repair man when all of a sudden, I remembered I had a conference at Liam's school starting IN 5 MINUTES. I hurried the three of us out the door, to the school, over the new layer of ice in the parking lot, arrived at the classroom 10 minutes late, got through the conference and rushed back to our frozen home in hopes I hadn't missed the repair guy. Still slightly bundled as we sat in front of the only electric room heater we own, a feeling of defeat overcame me as I looked around: the house was a wreck from yesterday's room rearranging and there were two humungous boxes from the table/chair sets we bought with no place to go but in the way. Even the cat was miserable....he joined us in front of the heater and just sat there, staring.

Granted, Solomon might have been happier had he not had Liam's finger in his eyeball....

The repairman arrived and discovered our circuit board was fried due to water damage coming from an unknown source which they later identified as from the water softener, (a problem not covered under warranty, of course). After half a day replacing parts and rewiring our humidifier, our house finally warmed up. After he left, I still had to get to the grocery store, another conference, my mom's group at church (which, I decided was first on the chopping block and skipped!) and had yet to discover the nice ball of poop sitting in the middle of our floor....I'd like to blame it on the cat but I am fairly certain it was a child.....I'm just not sure how it got there....I'm not sure I want to know either!

I found a moment to run on my treadmill at some point in the chaos and I ran across this passage out of Jeremiah in a book I am reading: "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord. Jeremiah 29:13-14

After the run, I went back to reread the passage in my Bible since it is a personal favorite (and comforting one at that): "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you."

And I thought, did I bother calling on God today? Was He listening? If I had been seeking Him, where would I have found Him?

And I realized that yes, we were running late in the morning but that the bus had been held up by another child and waited a little longer than usual, allowing time for my kids to get on. I then was late to the conference but it was filled with good news about Liam's progress in school and how well he is doing despite his developmental delays. The furnace problem, though an annoyance to be sure, was a good reminder of those less fortunate who are always out in the cold because they have no place to call home. And at the end of the work, the repairman gave us a pass and covered it anyway even though he didn't have to. Although I was late (again) getting to my kids at the bus stop in the afternoon, it was only because I had another glowing conference about Liam and his progress and than ran into a beloved teacher who wanted to share joyful news about her own son in Europe (while filling our tummies with M&M's in the meanwhile). And when I finally got to the bus stop, another parent had patiently waited with my kids so that the bus would leave them for me: a true act of kindness.

While I still don't know where the turd came from, (some things are better left a mystery) I realize there was so much goodness in the craziness. I am reminded just how easy it is to focus on the negatives while failing to see where our lives are drenched in grace. (Seriously, when was the last time you got the front parking spot at the grocery store during lunchtime!?! I so needed that.)

Anyway, I pray that you find warmth and strength for your soul this week in the love that is God; that the spirit beckons you, leading you to seek out those places where your life touches grace and brings hope to your future and boundless joy to your days.

Don't forget to seek Him out, don't forget to call.....He is listening!

"I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord.... Jeremiah 29:11-14

The Encourager

2011-11-23T09:01:00.000-08:00

Some people are just natural encouragers. Take little Liam for instance. Yes, you may know he is full of joy and happiness but he is also a little bundle of enthusiasm and encouragement.

This morning, we were going to his speech appointment where he was going to be finishing up some testing to see if he still qualifies for services (a blessing to be sure!) We decided we would stop by the local coffee shop to pick up a special coffee for his pathologist as a Happy Thanksgiving gift. I missed the turn.

"Oh shoot!" I exclaimed.

"What, Mom?! What?" Liam said, almost worried.

"I screwed up my driving and missed the turn," I told him.

"It O.K., Mom," he said. "Try again! Try again, Mom!"

"Liam, you're awesome," I told him.

Then again, if someone were constantly telling me I was awesome after half the things I said and did, I might very well be super encouraging to others, too!

Have a Fantastic Thanksgiving!

The Differences

2011-11-22T08:58:00.000-08:00

Thought I had forgotten about you, didn't ya?! No such luck! We have just been super busy.

It occurred to me recently that although everyone thinks Madeline and Lily look a bit like twins, they are really very different kids. I don't know if it is because unlike the people-pleasing Madeline, Lily has already gotten in trouble this year for lashing out at other students (twice in one day....apparently they did SOMETHING to deserve having their work scribbled on by my daughter and then having their scissors snagged away) or if it is just the different types of things that they are "into" these days but no matter, they are each very much their own person. And I think it can be best accentuated by their art.

Let me use Aidan as the control sample. Notice his works of art: planned, skilled, structured. He is the kid who, when told to do his best work, executes every last stroke of his pen, pencil, or paintbrush with precision, putting each line meticulously in its place, making his mother panic in the painstakingly slow process of everything he does. But, the finished work is often worth the ~~head contusions from banging the wall~~ wait:

Aidan and Mom with Leroy (1st grade)

The Tiger (oil based pastels, 1st grade)

Under the Sea (2nd Grade)

The Horse (3rd Grade)

Black and White Sandile (from Pokemon, a few weeks ago)

Untitled (Last Weekend)

Then there is Madeline's art: simplistic, cute, happy, calm, relaxed.

The Honeybee (Preschool)

The Pig (Preschool)

Madeline and Kurt (Summer between Kindergarten and 1st)

Self-Portrait: Princess Madeline (Summer between Kindergarten and 1st)

Plain Bunny (1st grade)

Bandit Bunny (1st grade)

Self Portrait (Last Weekend...and almost true to size!)

And then there is Lily. I think her frenetic art speaks for itself (as well as her inner being!):

Lily's Bunnies (perhaps on drugs or after selling their souls to the devil or both....)

Christmas Trees (gone wild!)

Person Unknown (but it sure as heck looks like the Muppet character Beaker!)

Mom (Actually, this one is about right....I often feel just. like. that!)

The Sun (Smiling down on the Incredibly Gigantic Lady who wears the sun on her bosom and 5 monsters on her skirt with hair that puts even Rapunzel to shame! Oh wait, I think this was supposed to be me as well....)

Aidan Practicing Snare (drawn while he was performing for us this morning)

Have a happy week!

Seven Years Ago Today, Continued

2011-11-09T06:54:00.000-08:00

It had been a rough few months. In the midst of the excitement over being pregnant with our second child, there was the scare of an ultrasound which had pointed to possible problems: a blob-like mass on the placenta, cysts in both sides of the brain; and a blood test that showed elevated risk. There had been worry from family and friends, lack of understanding from health care providers who told us we "couldn't make an informed decision without having an amnio" and similar feelings from those around us. We had cried in the fear of the unknown yet held tight to a hope that reassured us that no matter the outcome, all would be well.

The moment of peace that descended on us when we were told we were only faced with potential Down Syndrome, not something else more devastating or fatal, is like nothing we can describe. But after all that fear and worry and stress, we were left with the peace that can only come with great surrender.

In those last few weeks, we studied Down Syndrome and we spoke to parents and families who had been affected by it. We tried to stick one foot in that door, just in case, and in the privacy of our home we tossed around our thoughts and feelings and retained our hope as we prayed our silent prayers: prayers of acceptance, of faith, and of surrender.

When she entered this world, we saw a squishy, healthy baby that had come quickly and efficiently to us. It was late at night and the nurses showered her with praise as they prepared us for her first night in this world. Yet one questioned remained: Did she have that extra chromosome?

You'd think we would have known instantly. We had done this before, certainly our parental instincts would kick in and overwhelm us one way or another. But truth be told, she was like most newborns, slanted eyes, a squashed face, a little swollen, beautiful and perfect. We had given her her name and she was ours.

But the first thing everyone wanted to know when we called with our joyous news was: Is she ok?

And we told them, yes, she is okay, one way or another. And the nurses reassured us that she was healthy but that they couldn't tell us anything more than that. They couldn't determine whether she had that extra something or not. We'd have to wait until morning.

Seven years ago today, morning came and it didn't matter really what the doctor had to say because the thing is, when you have a baby, your heart grows a little larger and beats a little stronger and the only thing that matters is that all encompassing love that is big enough to sustain life, whatever it may offer. And babies, well, they are gifts and like any heavenly gift, we don't get to pick out the details. And like most gifts, babies do nothing to deserve our love, they simply exist and we simply swell in their existence.

It's one of the few glimpses we get into the heart of God.

The doctor came in early and I could almost sense the stifling of a great chuckle when we asked him about her chromosomes. She had the typical amount he assured us. Yet what we felt was not some collective sigh of relief but the simple acknowledgement of grace: a grace that had allowed us to find peace in the midst of the unknown and assurance in our total surrender. And in that moment, we inhaled what was and exhaled what could have been knowing that either way, we had been given an incredible gift of love.

2004

Seven Years Ago Today

2011-11-08T16:44:00.000-08:00

Happy 7th Birthday Madeline Jane!

Words Can Never Hurt Me....Usually...

2011-11-07T01:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I only catch the end of the conversation but sometimes that is all I need to hear.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me," Madeline chanted to her siblings who apparently had said something less than kind.

"Yuh-huh," Lily said, scooting her chair away from the table.

"No, they can't," Madeline replied.

"Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi...." Lily said, right in her face.

"OOOOOW, Lily!" Madeline screamed.

"See, told you so," Lily said.

"LILY, your words did NOT hurt me. You punched me, that's what hurt!" Madeline insisted.

"Hey Mom, do we have a really big dictionary?" Aidan asked.

"Aidan, you are not hitting your sister with a dictionary," I told him.

"Ah, come on!" he exclaimed.

Really, we are in fact trying to teach them kindness but it seems to be oh, so hard sometimes. As a matter of fact, sometimes it seems like we are actually just a comic strip waiting to happen.

Have a great week!

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T05:33:00.000-07:00

Today is the happiest of Halloweens. You see, today is October 31 which means IT IS FINISHED! The 31 days of posting has come to an end and I just have to say, YIPPEEEEE! (You are probably feeling the same.)

Might I just point out that in the last 31 days you have actually been privy to 33 posts. (Hey, I never said they would be GOOD posts....this was all about quantity, not quality....apparently I learned NOTHING from our little mini-series!)

But, it was a good lesson in perseverance for me and now it is time for a break.

So, on that note, I just have to tell you about a conversation I overheard today.

Aidan: "Madeline, you are being an e-d-i-e-t right now."

Madeline: "What does that spell?"

Aidan: "Well, duh. It spells idiot."

Hee hee, I don't even need to make THAT funny.

Happy Halloween!

Just for a Day

2011-10-30T13:25:00.000-07:00

Just for a day:

I chose to stay home. It was then that I was able to create a home worth staying in.

I chose to be still, unmoving. It was then that I was moved.

****

The baby is asleep. My instincts tell me to be quiet. To let him sleep. To KEEP HIM ASLEEP. But, to be quiet, I must slow down. To be quiet, I have to be still. In that stillness, I can hear tiny whisperings stirring. (No I am not schizo but thanks for wondering!)

While I am actively being quiet, it occurs to me: We create too much excess noise. Most of us do anyway. We fill time up, moving from place to place, activity to activity, one piece of technology to the next; one noise to another. Our lives are full. And in that fullness, they are noisy.

But God spoke to Hagar near a spring in the desert, when she was all by herself. God spoke to Abraham when he was sitting, still and alone, in front of his tent. God spoke to Jacob in his dream and then again in a wrestling match, in the middle of the night, in the middle of silence. God spoke to Joseph in his dreams and again in the aloneness of prison; to Israel in the visions of night; to Moses while he was by himself. And then, in a most dramatic display, Got spoke to Elijah. He called him into His presence and sent a wind storm, and an earthquake, and a fire. But God was not in those. God came in a tiny whisper.

And the story line reveals itself over and over: God spoke to Samuel in the silence of rest and solitude, while alone in the temple; to the prophet Nathan, in the night; to Solomon in a dream and to Daniel in visions and during prayer.

Time and again, God speaks. In the silence. In the solitude. In the stillness.

Fast forward in time and we see God speaking (sometimes directly, sometimes through angels and in other ways) to Zechariah while he was alone burning incense in the temple, to Joseph in a dream, to Mary through an angel while she was alone, to Cleopas and his friend while they walked, and stood still, and broke bread; to Mary Magdalene as she wept alone in the tomb, to Saul on the road while he was blinded by the light, practically forced into silence so that he might listen and again to him (as Paul) in the night; to Ananias and Cornelius in visions, and to Peter on a roof while praying. The story unfolds and we are shown that we occasionally need to be still. We occasionally need to shut off all the noise invading our lives and be silent. Because God might be trying to speak.

"For God is not a God of chaos (or confusion, or disorder), but of peace." --1 Corinthians 14:33

And to hear Him, perhaps we need to practice stillness. And simply be quiet. Maybe then, in our stillness, we will be moved. Maybe then, order and peace will follow.

Profile of a Runner

2011-10-30T01:38:00.000-07:00

There are all kinds of people out there and plenty of categories to fit them in. You might be a doctor and a parent. You might be a teacher, volunteer fireman and a swimmer. You might be into yoga or spinning or weight training. Or all of the above. And then there are the runners.

Now, many people call themselves runners. And by all means, it is a huge spectrum of people. But for some, it is more than just the way they get exercise. It is a way of life. I can't say that I fit into that category 100%, (it's closer to 99%) but for some, running is like eating. You can only go so long without it. Today's race made me realize just how insane some of us really are. (My guess is I will write that exact same sentence when I get home from the Polar Dash 10k on Jan. 1, brrrrrr....but I am getting ahead of myself.)

A few weeks back, my friend asked if I wanted to run the 10-mile Monster Dash with her. While the entry fee was almost enough to dissuade me (I think I paid $75) the gear alone was almost worth it. So I sucked it up and registered under the condition that we would run sporting some sort of costumes. After all, it is a costume run. (I wore a pumpkin hat and antennae, she wore devil horns.....so much for costumes but hey, it wasn't nothing!)

Anyway, my friend is a pretty solid 9- to 9:30-minute mile runner and we run together once every week or two assuming I only have one kid to push in a jogger. At any rate, she wanted to line up at the 10- minute pace and then play catch up. But as some of you know, I can be a wee bit, um, competitive. I argued we should line up at the 9-minute pace and assume we would do better given that it is an especially fast course. (Lots of downhill, woo hoo!)

We compromised and lined up near the 9:30 pacer. We were surrounded by all sorts of people dressed in all sorts of crazy costumes. It would be an easy place to sit and judge but rest assured, you can never tell what kind of runner someone might be by their costume. :)

Anyway, my goal was simply to run with my friend the ENTIRE RACE. After all, she was the one who invited me and it's always nice to have someone to chat with over long distances. That was my goal....but some of you know me and well, there is this little problem.

If you are not competitive then you may not fully understand the rest of the story.

Right before the race began, the espresso kicked in and I remembered why having given birth to 5 children put my bladder at a slight disadvantage in these things. But, there was no time to take care of that. The front runners left and we soon realized we were being held back in the second wave of runners (already this was just about enough to KILL ME! I mean, how can we catch up if we can't start when the race starts!) But then, the the rope fell and off we went.

So, I start chatting away, blah blah blah. My friend answers my questions briefly but for the most part just kept quiet. (Think of the old Spike and Chester cartoons, only, she's tiny.)

At first, it seemed like we were keeping a good pace and I felt like I could easily just stick with her and be happy. But as time went by, she started telling me she wasn't feeling great today. And then a woman in a wedding dress passed us.....oh, not the woman in the wedding dress?! Really?!

And then, it seemed like we were getting passed more and more frequently. And that's when the competitive devil inside started rearing its ugly HUGE head. Let me break here for a second and just say that it's not like I am ultra-competitive. (Stop laughing Kurt and friends.) I do realize that not everything in life is a competition. There is no prize to be won for taking the quickest shower, let's say, or having the most kids (although we've got a pretty good start on that one in many circles, don't ya think? Just kidding...) But, when it comes to athletics, well, I'll admit I might tend to be a wee bit over the edge.

So the rest of the run went something like this (insert voice in head):

"Oh wow, is that person wearing a banana costume? I bet that is hard to run in. But look at that?! She's passing us."

"Man, I didn't know dogs were allowed on this course....sucks to get passed by a dog. Argh! It passed us, too!"

"Wait, is that chick pregnant?"

And then the real kicker: "Hey look Karen, that guy looks like he must be around 80. Oh, and look, HE'S PASSING YOU! Good job there, kiddo."

So, we are passing mile 6 at this point and my friend stops for water. I started running backwards to keep an eye on her and that is when competitive self thinks, 'If I am running backwards and keeping up just fine, I probably need to just bolt.'

My friend catches back up (and I turn back around) and I tell her that at the 5k mark I plan on taking off to run my personal 5k time. She says that's great, she isn't feeling really well anyhow and feels bad for holding me back. And then, God bless her, she says, "Why don't you go on ahead now." We have about 3.5 miles left at this point. I half-apologize and then off I frantically go, trying to get ahead of all those people I *know* I should be able to beat.

Pretty soon, I have passed the old guy (phew), and another old guy (that admittedly I had to work a little harder to catch), the banana girl, the guy wearing the "running for beer" t-shirt (surely I can't let THAT guy beat me...or that one, or THAT one!), the wedding dress lady, the dog and its owner, the chick whose sign on her back read: "I'm slow, but you're still behind me!" (Eat my glitter, chickie!) And so on and so forth. Then, I overhear one of the pacers tell someone he has 9.3 miles on his watch (really, they make watches that give you distance?! Awesome!) and so I think, 'Well, shoot, I might as well keep running fast now, there's not even a mile left!' And then up ahead, I see another little girl (what, are you 12?) and then, oh no, an old(er) lady wearing a tutu and another older lady in a tutu and holy smokes, that guy is HUGE! HE. CAN. NOT. BEAT. ME! (I never said I was a PC runner....)

And by the end I was in a full out sprint trying to finish before one more person....and then another, and another.....because you know, what kind of race is it if you aren't trying to beat the people in front of you?! (Plus, they were giving out free beer at the end....and I still had to go potty....but whatever.)

For those of you who are not runners, no, I didn't win. That is the beauty of it. Unless you are an elite racer, there is ALWAYS someone ahead of you to chase down. You can ALWAYS do better. And I imagine, even the runners who win these things are thinking that they "could've done better if....." because that is how we they think.

After playing a serious round of chase at the end, I ran the ten miles in one hour and twenty-three minutes. Since it has been years since I did any real distance racing, that's a decent baseline going forward. (And by going forward I mean I'm already registered for a 5k, 10k, two half marathons and a full marathon for 2012....yes, yes I am....darn pre-race-running-expo offering discounted rates for the 5-race series!....hee hee hee.) What can I say? As my husband recently told me about hunting, I'm hooked! But then, I already knew that!

The Monster Dash

2011-10-29T01:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Solomon and I headed into downtown St. Paul to pick up my chip and bib for the 10 mile race I am running today with a friend. I was surprised by the looks we were getting. Surely people have seen babies downtown before, I thought. I started feeling a bit awkward. I mean, usually the reaction to the baby is all giggly and sweet, not snooty and rude. Usually the laughing is with us, not at us.

Then it occurred to me that maybe the issue was that I still had on the antennae I was wearing when I dropped the kids off at school.

Hee hee....Come on people, lighten up! This is a COSTUME RUN!

I left the doodle-bug headband on the rest of the day to spite the seriousness. They functioned as glittery upside down exclamations of "IN YOUR FACE!" It was totally worth it.

Wish us luck!

(Something tells me that the full coffee mug full of espresso with a side of bacon and candy pumpkins was NOT the best pre-race meal.....hmmmm.....)

Our Voices

2011-10-28T07:21:00.000-07:00

One thing this blogging challenge has done to me is it has made me very aware of my own voice. And I have to admit, sometimes I wish I had a different voice. No, I don't wish I had a different voice-box or that the actual sound that comes out of my mouth were any different. But, in the craft of writing, I sometimes find myself wishing for a different voice. Silly, I know. But....

There are a few bloggers I follow. (I am fairly picky since reading could easily consume all of my time.) I can pretty much sort them into four categories, with a bit of overlap here and there.

These categories are: Inspirational, Humorous, Practical, and Friends. And I am often struck by their unique voices.

At times, I find myself moved by an inspirational blogger. Their voice reaches those deep places inside my soul that stay hidden from the outside world. They stir me, sometimes pushing me forward into places I would not have considered going without them. I feel forever changed when I read their posts. And often I stop at the end and think, "Wow, I wish I wrote like that. I wish I moved people like that."

And then I will read something so funny I laugh out loud to the point of hysteria, tears rolling down my cheeks, unable to move but in fits. (Sometimes it is even meant to be funny.) And I think, "Wow, I wish I wrote like that. I wish I had that kind of wit to paralyze people with laughter."

At other moments, I find myself so eager to try a bit of practical advice. It's like the blogger is looking into my life and telling me what I need to know right at that exact moment to keep things in order or to get me back on track. And once again I find myself thinking, "Wow, I wish I had enough insight to have written that. I wish I had helped someone else like that."

And then I read the writings of my friends. And while I am thankful to share in their lives, I think, "Wow, I am so blessed to have such creative friends. I wish I created or wrote like that." (If not just because they have managed to figure out how to get paid for doing what they love to do! Go figure!)

And then I go back and read some archived posts from this Chicken blog. I become critical and have to stop myself from going back and changing every last word, from trying to make it sound like someone else. As I sit there, one of my kids inevitably comes crawling into my lap. (What can I say, they are opportunistic children and if the lap is available, well, they have to be quick on the draw!) And while holding them, I remember that this blog is a special place, not because of the voice in it, but because it has them in it. ("It's not about me....it's not about me....it's not about me.....ok, mostly it's not about me....") And their simple gesture reminds me that I was given my voice and the desire to write for a reason. And that by creating this blog with my unique voice my children will one day know that I was truly present in their lives and it will show them how I wanted to hold onto every. last. moment. together. How I wanted to store away these memories in a safe place so that I would always know where to find them. (I also wanted to stop the clock and just be here in this place with them forever but apparently we don't always get what we want! Drats!)

And because it is my voice telling their stories, our stories, and not some random writer, maybe one day they will begin to know me a little more fully. And I'd like to think that that is a good thing. (So long as it isn't used as fuel by their therapists, of course!)

So, here's to all our individual voices: May we embrace our unique inner voice, knowing that each one bursts with the potential for spreading truth and goodness, adding its own flavor and beauty to this world, just the way it is! May our voices be our offering of love, and of grace. (Even if it contains a hint of gracefulness, like a chicken!)

Must be in the Blood

2011-10-27T01:26:00.000-07:00

Today Liam and I were sorting animal cards. We had three piles:
1. Animals we see in the Neighborhood
2. Animals we see at the Farm
3. Animals we see at the Zoo

He did pretty well until we got to the alligator. I held up the card, "What's this?"

"An ALLIGATOR!" he exclaimed.

"Where does the alligator go?"

"In the neighbowhoo," he said.

"Well, maybe if we lived in Florida," I told him. "But let's put this guy in the zoo."

A few cards later, we came upon a Giant Tortoise.

"What's this?" I asked.

"An Alligator!" he said. Oooh, so close.

"Way to use caution buddy, but no, this is a tortoise." Really, he was one aggressive looking fellow right there. If you are three. And don't know he only moves like once a year. They do have similar coloring anyway.

A few cards later he put the bears and monkeys in our neighborhood, too. (Must be confused with the neighbors!)

The very last card was a hippopotamus with his mouth opened wide.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Another alligator!" he said excitedly.

"Close enough!" (Hey, better safe than sorry!)

Movin'...

2011-10-26T01:18:00.000-07:00

...to the beat.

Now that I have finally figured out how to upload my phone videos, I figure the "right thing" for me to do is to share a few. (Yes, I am shirking my commitment to writing today!)

This first video features Aidan on the drums and Solomon, also on the drums (well you know, he has to hold on to them to do his bopping!) Enjoy!

B.Y.O.B.: It's Over (the Mini-Series)

2011-10-25T01:03:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Here's me: "Blah, blah, blah, blah blah, organization, blah, blah, right thing(s), blah, blah, prioritizing, blah blah, too many good things, blah, blah, blah, not enough time, blah, blah, blah, where's the beef, blah blah..."

Here's you:

"Wake me up when it's nap time will ya?" (Surely she'll be done jabbering by then!)

You can blame my friend for telling me I should cut my posts into sections and post them over a span of several days, so that they are not as long and it doesn't take an entire lunchtime to get through them. She would be right of course IF I COULD STOP MYSELF FROM WRITING TOO MANY WORDS! And why I chose to do an entire series dedicated to something I am MISERABLE at is beyond me. I am just glad it is over. I am feeling blessed that we got through it and can go back to random, scattered thoughts and stories from which I hope to find plenty of humor. Phew. Thanks for your endurance and unwavering support. (Hey, one can hope, right? Hello? Helllooooo? Anyone still there?)

Hee hee hee.

Have a fantastic day!

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 5, The End....Actually, It's Just The Beginning!

2011-10-24T01:52:00.000-07:00

We spent the morning a few days back having Liam assessed for Physical Therapy. Sure he is making progress but we had this incident a couple weeks ago. You see, he was at swim lessons and at the very end of the class, they had the three little preschoolers line up on the side of the pool and told them to jump in the water (to be caught by the instructor). Liam went first. The problem? Liam can't jump yet. But he doesn't fully realize it. So instead of jumping he just kind of stepped off the pool deck, forcing the teenage instructor to lunge forward to grab him and as he went in he whacked the back of his head on the concrete deck. It was not pretty. No blood but a decent ~~chicken~~ goose egg and plenty of tears and a slightly shocked instructor. (Apparently most kids can jump, who knew....) At any rate, I told the story to his speech pathologist who set him up to be assessed by a PT. Sure enough, he qualifies. His skills are "scattered," the PT told me. He can do some things really well, some things need refining (did you know that they expect a certain running form from three year olds? Sheesh, I thought legs and arms flailing in different directions WAS their form!) and of course, the lack of jumping is far from typical. It was hard for me not to say, "Oh what a relief! He is fairly normal after all." I mean really. Most of us are pretty darn good at some things, average at others and pretty clueless at the rest. That's just a fact of life. You take the good, you take the bad, you take the.....oh wait, wrong thing.

Anyway, the thing about PT is that you don't just do it quickly and get it over with. It is a process. You take baby steps. It takes time. Patience. Follow through. And it has to become a priority for it to be successful. Like exercising. Or finishing that sewing project. Or meal planning.

Deciding to do the right thing(s) is not something that you do one day and so you did it and you are done. It is something you decide to do in every waking moment. It is lifelong and for some of us who are used to going with the flow and taking life as it hits us, it can be life changing.

So where does all of this talk on prioritizing and doing the right things leave us speed demons of the world whose natural inclinations are to add all sorts of random good things to fill our already crazy lives while possibly sacrificing some of the more important things? Well, duh, it means we have to choose the right good things to do at breakneck speed and make sure to do them in the right order, rapido, rapido! Andele! Andele! Just kidding.

It means slowing down long enough to be mindful in the prioritizing: Liam really does need Physical Therapy so that his lack of jumping isn't hazardous. Where does that go in order of importance to me? Above exercise? Above meal planning? Definitely before swim lessons that require him to jump into the water! And while we're at it, I really do need to stay on top of the laundry or else I will have twelve overwhelming loads staring me in the face and my kids will be sent home from school because they aren't wearing pants. Maybe that is where we begin: we decide to take on one thing and stay on top of it and when that becomes routine, we pick the next thing....baby steps.

The prioritizing means we also have to set aside a few minutes to actually sit on a chair ever so often (not just at the evening meal, I know, novel idea...) to map out our daily routines and activities so that we can keep things straight; putting the first things first (first jumping, then jump-roping, then pole vaulting), saying no to the excess and then filling our time with that which is meaningful and intentional. And who knows, maybe that time spent planning and organizing will become enjoyable; a time to renew the spirit, a time to refresh the soul. A time for quiet. And stillness. And peace. Maybe it will become afternoon tea. Care to join me?

(Maybe we could take a nice long run afterwards.....at a really fast pace.....before cramming in a few thousand squats, dips, lunges and push-ups......before rushing off to the next thing!)

Hey, what can I say? It's a work in progress!

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 4 (Almost Done)

2011-10-23T07:57:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine used to guard her time as if she had taken an oath to guard the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. She was so good at saying no and limiting the activities of her family that at times it got frustrating to the rest of us. Then we moved out to CA and having a clean slate, I, too, tried to guard my family's time and schedule, filling it with less but more meaningful things. And as they get older, that combat seems to be getting more fierce. I am no longer just a gatekeeper, deciding what will go on our calendar and what won't. Instead, I have had to become a soldier on the front lines fighting back all those "good" things and "good" intentions and "good" activities from overtaking every free moment we have. And still, it sometimes feels like a losing battle. There is so much "good" to be done, so many "good" things to do. But is it always the right thing?

Ask yourself: Are there things you need to put on hold while you do the right things for this season of your life? Does your health need more attention? Do you have a relationship that needs mending? A household that needs you more present and involved? Financial struggles needing your undivided efforts? Work that just needs to get done so that you can focus on your dreams and loftier goals? So that you might help more or serve more or, heck, even play more without the weight of the world on your shoulders....Are you running daily marathons when a short but well-planned 5K would suffice?

Seriously, think about it. It would be good of us to foster baby animals for the Humane Society. I'd love it, the kids would love it, the Humane Society desperately needs it. But would that just add undue stress and burden on an already chaotic household, possibly causing my husband to put his head through a window which we would then have to repair AFTER he was discharged from the mental ward? Probably. Then is it the right thing for our family to take on presently? Probably not. Maybe you aren't fostering animals, and instead, like me you are hiding behind the things that really have to get done, and some that you really just want to do (a-hem, blog). Are those the right things for right now or just good things you justify doing in one way or another? Are you avoiding some of the more important stuff?

Don't get me wrong: I am not talking about cutting out all hobbies and other leisure activities. Quite the contrary. Not only are they important but your well-being depends on them. We have to have a healthy dose of fillers to balance things out! But if you are losing sleep at night fretting over whether you missed something on your calendar which is bursting at the seams; or if your health is suffering because you simply aren't making time for it; or if your family is starving for some wholesome, healthy food, it might be time to make hard choices and do some weeding. Don't think of it as abandoning the animals, think of it as opening the door for someone else to take on a "good" thing (while you shut it as quickly as you can behind you to restore sanity to your home!)

***Disclosure: I was trying to do so many things while writing today's segment that I somehow deleted the entire thing and had to REWRITE. EVERY. LAST. WORD.....Grrrrr. I am just sure it was much better the first time! Hee hee *Blush*

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 3

2011-10-22T01:37:00.000-07:00

Aidan had a little issue recently with turning in his homework. As we sorted through his backpack, pulling out an entire army of origami paper frogs (thanks be to the substitute teacher with paper folding skills who thought it was a great idea to teach THAT to a bunch of 3rd graders!) Kurt commented that I was going to have to learn to be more organized so that I could help Aidan learn organization skills as well..... Sigh. It's true. (Gosh darn it!) Try as I might, and as much as I love organization, (really, those closet and home catalogs are glorious!) it just doesn't come naturally to me. I have "loftier ideas" floating through my head, visions and dreams (of unattainable grandeur) to put into action. Who has time for the practical, the tangible, the planning, coordinating, and formulating of good structures, systems and routines? I can't even keep a running blog theme straight, much less the many details of life! For some reason, I continue to choose disorganization over the careful planning of our days. I continue to cram it all in instead of choosing to let go of the superfluous stuff, the stuff cluttering our time and getting in the way of solid family building. I choose to stray from simplicity and dwell too often in chaos. (Sometimes that is just chasing a dirt-eating 9 month old of course!)

But.....isn't there always that but? But as Mr. Covey said, there is no substitute for doing the right things. Notice he didn't say "doing the good things" for there are many, many good things to choose from; many things we think we "should" do simply because of their goodness and because we can. But just because they are good things and just because we might be able to fit them in "real quick" doesn't make them the right things for us to do at that time. We could do them, but at what expense? And simply speeding things up, well, you saw the results in my plates and knives! There is no excuse to cover up the blatant error of going through life quickly but unintentionally. Swiftly but inefficiently. Rapidly but recklessly. Filled to the brim, but with the wrong, good things.

What good things do you justify doing when in reality they may be out of place right now? Are there areas of your life you neglect but then fill with acts of goodness to validate your choices? Is your schedule so full you seem to lack direction or focus? Does anyone suffer because of it? Are you suffering in some way because you are doing the things you want to do (cough, cough, blogging, sputter, sputter, cough!) and avoiding the things you need to do (hack, sputter, meal-planning/cleaning/insert-other-important-things-here, cough)?

We have all been there. At some point, we all miss the boat (because we were running late trying to to fit in two more little random things, or simply forgot altogether, again!) At some point, we all take on too much, bite off more than we can chew. That's life. It's part of the learning. The question is, are you stuck there?

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 2

2011-10-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

A friend and I were discussing priorities recently. I told her I'd like help with a sewing project, among other things; she said she'd like help fitting exercise into her routine. Whereas she already puts feeding her family good, wholesome, well-planned-out meals at the top of her priority list, I justify putting personal exercise at the top of mine, rationalizing it with thoughts like, "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy" and exercise makes me happy....and keeps me healthy and energetic and fit, which in turn makes Kurt happy and it gives me the stamina to keep up with five ~~monsters~~ kids.....But still, I have to admit, it does seem a wee bit selfish if you are on the outside looking in. I am pretty sure healthy meals for the seven of us should come first! (Especially over random sewing projects!)

I am envious of my friend's ability to sit down and plan out her meals for the entire week or month. And I am not talking just dinner. She has breakfasts and lunches mapped out as well. And they're wholesome, heathy, "from scratch" meals every morning, noon and night! Her organization skills so surpass my meager efforts, it's downright humbling. When I sit down to try to "plan" a week's worth of meals, I get stuck on the logistics, bogged down by the details. I start to drown in the panic of having to stick with a plan in the first place. My mind starts tricking me with the "what ifs" (what if I want to be spontaneous, what if I get a craving for something else, what if I fall off the wagon, what if the store is out of asparagus on day 3, what if I choose the wrong thing, what if.....Argh!) And because I am afraid of stumbling (or maybe because I am too busy or preoccupied to think about it) I give up the process altogether. Great role-modeling, huh?

As our discussion continued, we spoke about how we all prioritize our lives by our own choosing. While she finds it essential in her day-to-day life to have that meal plan, my workout schedule is actually of utmost importance. Without exercise, I start getting jittery and then grouchy and impatient and then downright unpleasant. It starts to interfere with my relationships: with myself, with my family, even with the food I choose to eat. Seriously. Exercise is way up on top of my list for a reason and it isn't just vanity! But in order for it to be there, I have to make choices about what won't be there. And that's where things get a little screwy sometimes because my instincts (hyped up on a dose of society) are yelling from the sidelines that I can do it all if I just move faster, dig deeper, give it my everything. That when another family needs a music teacher I can somehow find more time in the day to fit them in. That when another volunteer position opens, when the church needs something, when a friend is struggling, I can be the one to show up. And so I should.

Survey says, EEEEERRRRRRRRRNT!

Really, this rationale is just crazy. No one can do it all. Working faster is not always the answer. (Just take another look at our dinner plates!) No one can fix everything nor be everything to everyone and if we try, we put our own lives out of balance. Add more students? Sure, at the risk of neglecting my own kids. Fill another position at church or in the community? Even God would probably frown down on that one currently. Making hard choices? Becoming more intentional? Now we're talking!

Do you ever find things getting out of balance? Do you try to do it all? Is prioritizing difficult, mainly because you forgot how to say no? Do you move from one thing to the next at the speed of light? Are things getting jumbled and broken? (Maybe that brokenness isn't in your plates and knives. Maybe it is hiding in your relationships. Maybe it shows up in clutter or disorganization. Maybe it rears its face in a chronic health issue that needs addressing.....in weight gain, stress, depression, loneliness, dependency, forgetfulness. The list is never ending....)

Doing the right thing(s) involves making hard choices. Choices that say, "Yes, I could do that; yes, I could help; yes, I could but no, I can't do that right now without sacrificing something of importance."

Think about it, what are you sacrificing right now? And for what?

(Ok, I just have to stop here and say, I do know a handful of people whose lives seem so perfectly balanced that they really don't need to read on. But, then again, sometimes these things creep up on us when we least expect it. Maybe we all need a good reminder!)

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 1

2011-10-20T06:28:00.000-07:00

"Doing more things faster is no substitute for doing the right things." --Steven Covey

Oh why, Mr. Covey, why? Why do you challenge us so?

How many of us fill our lives with more and more and more, doing everything as quickly as we can just so that we can get on with the next thing? I know I fall into this category more often than I'd like to admit. I mean, in the last fifteen minutes I swept and mopped the floor (while dragging a towel with one foot in order to dry it at the same time), changed and fed the baby, put him to sleep while the other kids "helped mop," transferred the laundry into the dryer, got the three middle kids ready for bed, said their prayers, set out their school clothes, went back up to quiet them down (twice) then tidied their bathroom, and all the while I have been back and forth writing this blog. Sound familiar? Well, I don't know about you, but I need to take some recovery time just thinking about it!

And in that hurried pace, while we do get a lot done, we often fail to prioritize correctly. We often find that things don't go as smoothly as they could because we do the wrong things, or at least, we do things in the wrong order. If we don't take time to pause and think (asking what the end goal is and what needs to get done right now in order to get there) and plan out a path (perhaps getting input from our significant others when our brains boycott the efforts....and in my case getting that input before I realize I need it!), then we frantically go through the day, often making a mess of things and getting frustrated that we have so much to clean up or correct or replace (again) afterwards.

Is this quick pace of life worth it? Does it really get the results we want?

(If you are answering "well duh, no" maybe you'd like to write tomorrow's post....hee hee, just kidding! But I hope you will check in again tomorrow to see where we are going with this.)

Doing the Right Thing(s)

2011-10-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

What do you notice about the following pictures?

Do you see the chips and fragments? Do you notice the brokenness? Do you recognize it as being the result of moving too fast? Of trying to do things too hastily?

Over the next few days we will be looking at what it means to slow down long enough to do the right thing(s). Maybe you have this under control, or maybe you just need some tweaking in your prioritizing or maybe you are like me and feel the need to do as much as you can and as fast as you can even if it means less than perfect results. Whatever the case may be, I hope you will join me for this little mini-series.

See ya tomorrow!

You Know What They Say....

2011-10-18T01:34:00.000-07:00

Give a kid a toy, they play for a day.

Teach them how to build their own..........and then give them free access to all the tools, extra wood and other materials they can scrounge up in the garage and voila! They'll probably get at least two, maybe three days out of this one!

Oh, and that "Beware" sign is probably not to be taken too lightly.....I mean, Aidan's good for an 8 year old and all but well, I wouldn't go crawling around in there if I were you....just sayin'!

B.Y.O.B. Half Way Done

2011-10-17T01:20:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

I'll be honest: I am not sure if this is my blessing or yours but we are over half way done with the Daily Blogpost Challenge. (Yippee!) Next year, I think I will pick a theme because at least then I would have an idea of what to write about each day! As it stands, I am running short of ideas (and time) and I think it is beginning to show. (Or perhaps it was showing from the get go.) At any rate, it has been a challenge and a blessing. And I look forward to taking six months or so off from blogging come November 1st! (Just kidding. It's not THAT big of a blessing!)

What blessings have you experienced from challenges in your life this week?

Graceful Like a Chicken: It's Biblical

2011-10-16T00:15:00.000-07:00

Did you know Jesus wanted to be Graceful Like a Chicken?

(Seriously, this is how you know that anything can be found in the Bible!)

But really, Jesus said it himself in Matthew 23:37:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing."

You see, Jesus wanted to extend himself to the people: extend his love, his guidance, his forgiveness, his protection from the evils of this world, but especially his GRACE. He longed to bring peace to the people, gathering them all together in his love, gathering them all as one, as children, to a place where struggling rivals become loving siblings, where they became united as a greater whole. He wanted to do it like a hen would take care of her brood. He wanted to wrap them up and hold them tight, even in the face of danger; even at the expense of himself. He still wants that for each of us. Are we willing?

I had an interesting conversation a year or so ago with a reader of the blog. She had asked what happens when a fox gets into the hen house. (She was preaching on the above passage and needed to know the entire story. Could a hen actually protect itself, or its chicks, from a fox?) I wrote a local bird guy in the area and he said the fox would go in, take out one hen at a time and eat it and then would keep coming back until he had finished them all off. I am guessing that wasn't the image she had wanted. It is daunting. It is extreme. But I'd like to believe the mother hen knows what she is doing. She knows she cannot offer total protection from all that could hurt her babes. She only has so much to offer. So she simply gathers her chicks up, fluffs her feathers a bit and hides them, hoping the fox will not see them, change his mind perhaps, maybe just take her and leave her babies. She can keep them warm and secure under her wings. She can hold them close, loving them until the very end. She really can't protect them from physical death in this world. That death is inevitable. But she will be with them through the entire process, sacrificing herself when she must.

Jesus wants to be like that hen, wrapping us in his arms, extending his grace to us all, sacrificing himself so that we might have life. He wants to extend his grace to us, like a hen to her chicks, if only we will let him. He wants to be full of grace, in fact, he is grace; and he is grace-filled, graceful, like a chicken. See?

Ok, lightening hasn't struck me down so I think I am in the clear. Phew! But, here is a video that shows the powerful love of a chicken. (I don't remember if I have posted it in the past. It's a a wee bit long-winded and a little corny but then again, so am I.) Enjoy!

Fixing Chicken Mistakes

2011-10-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Tonight I made Honey Baked Chicken for dinner. It is a family favorite straight out of the Mennonite Cookbook: More For Less. I loved it as a child and still do now as an adult, even when it is slightly overdone, like tonight. As we ate, Kurt began telling the children about his upcoming hunting trips.

"Next week, I will be going Grouse hunting. Do you know what a Grouse is?" he asked, followed by a round of no's. "Grouse is a type of bird. We have to hope that I catch some this time so that I can bring them home and we can eat them," he said.

"Da-ad! I am NOT eating a bird!" Lily exclaimed, chicken in hand.

"Lily, you are eating a bird right now," we told her, explaining that chicken is a bird.

"Yeah, but chickens don't fly so they aren't like a real bird," Aidan said. What? What did you say kid? But before I had time to disown him, Kurt went on:

"Lily, they are going to die anyway so we might as well shoot them so that we can eat them," he said.

"Nice, Hun," I said, thinking through that logic and applying it to other things that "are going to die anyway" and why we don't eat them.... "And Aidan, chickens are real birds and they can fly, just not very far, or high, and they don't do it often," I corrected him.

"And then at the end of the month I am going quail hunting," Kurt went on. "Quail are cool because they are smart and know they will get eaten if they fly up so they run around on the ground instead. So we take hunting dogs who go chasing the birds up into the air and then we get to shoot at them." (Ok, I'm paraphrasing here but seriously, can you just hear the excited little boy in this? He then went on to talk about the well trained hunting dogs and how they are his favorite part etc. etc.)

The conversation then veered into when Aidan can learn to shoot guns (uh, never) to which Kurt told him he had to be 10 before he was allowed to learn to shoot.

"Well, my cousin had her boys shooting at like 5," I said, not making a good case for the gun ban I plan to impose on the house.

"Yeah, that's your cousin and that's Florida," he said. True 'nuff.

After that, the conversation took a turn toward animal intelligence, specifically dolphins and sharks and the bird talk was long forgotten.

Dinner finished up and I went to work fixing the chicken. You see, I had decided to use both boneless, skinless breasts as well as the usual leg quarters and I had overcooked the breasts slightly which of course dried them out a bit. But I have the perfect fix for overdone poultry which I thought I'd share with you (and no, it doesn't include the trashcan and try-trying again.)

Karen's Quick Chicken Fixer-Upper

Take left-over (or overcooked) chicken off the bone or if already boneless, just stick it in a glass baking dish. Cut it up into shreds.

Mix together a cup of mayonnaise with a half cup of shredded or grated parmesan cheese. Stir into the chicken. If you have a lot of chicken, you may want to double the mayo mixture. (Tonight, I had four thighs, a drumstick and four breasts left over which filled a 9x13 baking dish so I doubled the mayo and cheese.) It will look fairly disgusting, a bit like cat food, and my guess is the cat would love it but I wouldn't go there.

Smooth the chicken out so that it is flat and evenly distributed in the dish. Cover with a thin layer of parmesan. Bake at 350 degrees (F) for about 20 minutes, or until slightly browned on top and bubbling on the edges. The chicken will come out tasty and moist and no one will know it was ever overcooked. (You can also add breadcrumbs to the top before baking if you want to be fancy!)

This is how I use left over chicken to create a new meal. It is a crowd pleaser but I wouldn't go as far to say it is good for the waistline! And you can use just about any chicken: bar-b-que, rotisserie, grilled, baked. I probably wouldn't use Asian or soy-sauce based chicken but then, who knows.

Ok, that's all I got. Have a great day!

The Problem With Growing Up in FL

2011-10-14T05:51:00.000-07:00

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself."--FDR

And alligators. And anything resembling an alligator. And snakes. And sharks and....actually, I am not entirely sure FDR knew what he was talking about.....

After all the other Florida-related things I have brought up in recent posts (think alligators) there is yet another problem with growing up in Florida. Actually, come to think of it, it's still just the gators.

The other night, right before lights out, I had a brief conversation with my mom on the phone. She was describing to me this rather large house spider that she and my nephew had found (think skinny tarantula without the fur, only found in Florida houses...and horror movies). Apparently, it was playing dead (like all sneaky spiders do!) and in her great wisdom, she decided to use the paper-cup technique for taking it out instead of assuming it was actually dead, which it was not. (And for those of you who are wondering why she wouldn't just smoosh it with her shoe, would you "smoosh" a large, squishy rat? Really?) Anyway, she is still alive to tell this story so she knows her spiders well. At any rate, she thought it might make a good blog post but I explained I had overdone the scary FL creatures posts. (Yet here we are, once again....)

That night I had nightmares of stealth alligators sneaking up on unsuspecting Minnesotan lake-goers. Good times. Really.

Then, while on my run the next day, I passed this fairly new sign at the Outdoor Center (a sign I have run by probably a hundred times in the last few months):

About half way around the lake, I started laughing to myself because the question dawned on me: Why does the Outdoor Center here in Eden Prairie, MN have an alligator sign? I was all "That is just downright silly! There are no alligators here in MN. What a goofy sign to have for the Outdoor Center!" So I had to circle the lake again to take a picture so that I could ~~make fun of~~ write about it on the blog.

And much to my surprise, the sign was clearly not an alligator but a log. SERIOUSLY?!

I thought, "Oh no, I have finally lost it!" But then I reminded myself, that no, I haven't. This is simply a basic survival instinct associated with being born and raised in Florida: The land of ten million gators.

It is a problem none-the-less because when you see a log in the water, I see an alligator. Every. Single. Time. And I would have stubbornly fought with you that that sign was an alligator, not a log. (Of course, in my pretty lame defense, I'd probably stubbornly fight with you over just about anything....I should probably work on that....) And when you see a kid casually floating on a log (I am sure that happens somewhere) and think nothing of it, I would panic: "What does that kid think he's doing? Why is he riding an alligator? Call the police! Call the Coast Guard! Where is HIS MOTHER?!"

She's probably at home busy not worrying because after all, this is Minnesota: The Land of Ten Thousand Alligator-Free Lakes. It says that on our license plates, too.....more or less.

Choices

2011-10-13T06:43:00.000-07:00

“The most important human endeavor is striving for morality in our actions. Our inner balance and even our very existence depend on it. Only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to our lives.”--Albert Einstein

That, and a good run. Seriously, aim to do what is right and good and wholesome at all times. And then turn off the technology, take a break from your work, go out on a lovely fall day and take a walk. Go for a run if you can but no matter, just be outside. Stop your normal day-to-day life for just a moment and take in the scenery. You will be glad you did and all the better for it.

Yesterday, I had to choose: sit at home and try to write for the blog or go outside while I only had one child with me and take a long run. What do you think I chose?

I had my phone with me, tracking time and distance, and so I took a few shots along the way. I figure, I might not have anything valuable to share with you today, (hee hee, you might argue I never do anyway!) but I can share a moment of solitude, a simple snapshot of peace. I hope it helps you through your day as it did mine!

Breathe....Now, isn't that better?

(Hey, at the very least, this was short and you can now get on with the important stuff!)

The Patrol (or How to Make a Football Player)

2011-10-12T00:18:00.000-07:00

When Solomon started crawling a few months back, Liam quickly established his new role in life: Solly Patrol.

What we hear:

"No, Solly! No! No, no Solly! No chips for you! No Solly, no!"
(Obviously the item of interest changes depending on what room we are in!)

"No, Solly! You no toilet! No, no, get away!"

"No, Solly! No up there, no!"

What we see:

We're convinced that the day is coming very soon where Solomon will simply drag all two pounds of Liam with him.

Have a lovely day!

Long Overdue: My Sister's Wedding

2011-10-11T07:42:00.000-07:00

I suppose I must start this story where most stories start: at the beginning.

For those readers who don't know, I have a sister. She is my elder by 7 years. She lives in New York; Brooklyn to be exact. And she is such a private person I hardly knew she existed until I was in high school or maybe it was college; I don't recall. We are very different in just about every way.....while she's trying to figure out how to afford living as close to the big city as possible, I am trying to figure out how to afford getting as far away, a farm perhaps??? (Hint, hint, Kurt, Christmas is coming.....hee hee.) But, I love my sister and the perspective she brings to our relationship. And I am assuming she feels the same, well, at least I think she tolerates me pretty well and can at least laugh at my lack of color-matching/fashion/design skills: the art in which she is so gifted.

On Friday, May 13 of this year (yes, Friday the 13th, wouldn't expect anything else from my sis) my sister got married to a great guy we have considered family for over a decade now. And as I mentioned in one of my B.Y.O.B.'s, I was fortunate enough to be there.

Going to New York was a big trip for me. Not only did I have to prepare for and leave four kids and my hubby behind (think frozen food shopping, appointment canceling and loads and loads of laundry), I also had to remember how to pack and travel with an infant. Not to mention having to fit into something decent enough to wear in a place where shoes and handbags are everything, a far bigger problem for me as it turns out.

The trip started with me trying to figure out what to wear, FOR THE PLANE RIDE. While I thought I had the wedding attire figured out (more on that later) I hadn't thought about travel attire.

"Why are you so worried about this?" Kurt wanted to know as I took off yet another outfit the morning of my departure.

"Because I have nothing to wear, nothing fits me yet (Solomon was still only a few months old) and even if it did fit, nothing is good enough for a place like New York where clothing matters," I said, more or less. Please note, at one point I thought it would be really funny to show up in pig-tails and patched-up overalls and, upon meeting up with my sis, embarrassing the daylights out of her with loud exclamations of "Gee sis, these bildin's are so tall.....they could be like ten stories up or somethin'!" as I snapped pictures left and right. But I digress.

"Karen, even if you could fit into all your nice clothes you wouldn't fit in to New York City and that's not a bad thing," he assured me. I changed back into my jeans (the ones with darned knees) and my favorite Graceful Like a Chicken shirt. It worked for me and so I let the worry pass.

Solly and I arrived on time to the airport. The woman at check-in told me I would be flying into Laguardia. "LAGUARDIA?" I asked shocked. "I am supposed to be going into JFK. Are you sure I am going to Laguardia?" (She was. Duh.) "But the SUV shuttle will be picking us up at JFK." She didn't even glance up. I felt like crying which is TOTALLY not like me, perhaps it was the hormones. My parents and brother were supposed to be meeting me at the airport, our planes arrived 15 minutes apart. But, you can't argue with computer reservations.

I called my mom immediately. "Mom, there's a little hitch in our plans. I am flying into the wrong airport," I said about to jump into a full-fledge panic.
"Where are you flying into?" she asked.
"Laguardia," I said.
"So are we," she said. I noticed the oxygen returning to my lungs and could feel my normal calm washing over me.
"Ok, well then the hitch is that our shuttle is scheduled to pick us up at JFK...but THAT I can fix!" Phew. What a relief. I put all my belongings on a chair and was getting ready to sit down next to them when another passenger headed to New York, dressed to the nines, came walking over and sat right down in. my. seat! I stared at her blankly. She was oblivious to me and the fact I was holding an unusually fussy child at this point. She didn't even notice as she hit my suitcase with her foot, pushing it away slightly as she got more comfy and continued her texting. Humph, I thought. She must be going HOME to NYC, I judged, for surely she isn't from good ol' MN....I convinced myself I couldn't sit with a crying baby anyway and then prayed that the fancy lady was sitting right next to me on the plane....I was sure I could keep Solomon screaming the entire flight if I had to. Just kidding, of course. Kind of....

Anyway, the flight was quick and easy. Solomon slept the entire way and quickly became my favorite traveling companion. Everyone loved seeing him (with the exception of the Lady in Black) and we got all sorts of smiles and engaged in entertaining conversation. It was delightful. My folks and brother were waiting for us at our gate and off we went to find our shuttle which was right on time. The only problem I encountered was while waiting for the car seat to come out at the baggage claim: I tried pulling my shirt down as it had bunched up under the snuggly I was wearing (which Solomon was sitting in) and I inadvertently stuck my thumb through the fabric, leaving a huge hole in my favorite Graceful Chicken shirt. Thank goodness for my new sewing skills! I was almost excited about the opportunity to sew it back together!

Our driver was from Egypt. We spoke of the recent events over in his home country and he told us, more or less, that people in America take freedom for granted. He came here to make a better life for himself because unlike so many other places, America allows that. Other countries, he told me, stifle individual freedom. It was a good reminder of how fortunate we truly are. He was interesting. And oddly, he picked up on my father's very slight accent right away.

"Your dad ees from Teeennessee, yes?" he said. Wow....he really knows his accents!

On Friday, we put on our best attire and met the rest of the family in front of the courthouse in Brooklyn where my sister would be wed. She and her new husband walked up in their beautiful clothing and gorgeous shoes (that likely cost as much as our monthly mortgage); she held a simple, elegant bouquet of gardenias. The aroma swept over us as she came close, hugging everyone and saying her welcomes. The excitement and tension mixed in the air as we walked to the entrance of the courthouse, half-undressed to get through the security scanners and then made our way up to the chapel. There were several other women in their wedding gowns getting married before my sister. It was a pleasant thought that the day was shared by many a bride and groom, by many a love story. The ceremony, though short, was just right. It was exactly what I would imagine for my sister. They said simple vows and then shared in the reciting of a Chinese proverb, back and forth, tenderly together. There was kissing and cheering and happiness all around.

After that, we made our way to The Flatbush Farm. (Woo hoo! Maybe we're more alike than I think!) The Farm is a neat little restaurant owned and run by a guy from Minnesota whose sister was our waitress (double woo hoo!). All the meals there are seasonal; all the food from organic and sustainably grown farms. And to top it off, it had the best coffee I have ever tasted: Ancora Coffee, a Wisconsin company. It was fabulous. Score for the Midwest!

Later that day, after my folks and I showed my oldest brother around Manhattan, we called my aunt who was going to meet up with us before dinner. She told us she would be wearing her red coat. Right after my mom hung up the phone, we were surrounded by a crowd of students all WEARING RED! I half expected them to break out in a flash mob dance but then that would have been too obvious I suppose. Fortunately, by the time my aunt appeared, the tour group was gone and her red coat was easily picked out of the crowd.

We met up with the rest of the family, minus my sister, for dinner at another lovely place right down from Times Square. And of course it wouldn't be much of a trip without someone accidentally starting a fire IN THE RESTAURANT! You know, if you are going to have real candles, you might want to make sure the cloth napkins in the bread basket are not dangling over them....I'm just sayin'. Luckily, my father was paying attention and with the help of my uncle, only one napkin was charred.

One close call averted and we were off to see Times Square all lit up. On the way there, I noticed a bouncer talking to a small crowd right outside the Cass Theater. Robin Williams (you know, Mork, Patch Adams, Mrs. Doubtfire....Dead Poets Society, Good Morning, VIETNAM!) was about to come out from his live show. Now, I can count on one hand the number of entertainers I would care to see in person and he tops that list. So, touristy or not, I had to stop. Solomon was strapped in the front carrier and as Robin Williams walked out he turned to us, looked at Solly and said, in a way only he could say it, "Well hellooo tiny person." I was in heaven! He spoke to my baby which is basically like speaking to me since Solly was attached like an appendage. Woo hoo!!!

Even if celebrity spottings are commonplace in NYC, which from the sounds of it they are (as my new brother-in-law casually told me of Robin Williams: "Oh yeah, I run into him all the time."...probably getting me back for asking if his beautiful Japanese suit was from Target) my "New York moment" put a little more bounce in my step.

Robin Williams, taken with my phone...my dad got it on video on his iPhone but it got erased from my phone a few months ago.... :(

After that, I noticed how friendly people (tourists anyway) were to us. Everyone smiled at the baby. As a matter of fact, a nice French couple started cooing at him and trying to get him to laugh as we waited for the cross walk signal just moments later. She asked if I spoke French.

"Je m'appelle, Karen," I said and then pointed to the baby, "et he's Solomon....That's all I got."

"Uh, er, good to meeting you," she said back. We both laughed and went our separate ways.

The next morning came quickly and after a lovely breakfast at Juniors (known for their fantastic cheesecake but I also found their red velvet cupcakes to be superb!) we prepared for the reception. Now, the first day (wedding, lunch, dinner, etc.) was just family. The reception however was where we would mingle with the New Yorkers and all of a sudden I was feeling inadequately prepared. I was pretty certain I would be the only one there who could FOLD THEIR ENTIRE OUTFIT into a suitcase and still not have to iron it (go little knit dress!) And although my sister had told me it was casual, I knew she didn't mean my kind of casual...."good jeans" didn't qualify. She had said "bridal shower casual" and I'm pretty sure she meant Princess Kate's bridal shower, not mine. I had outdated-wedged-sandal-like shoes. And what I didn't know was that shoes are everything in New York. No one bothered to tell me that though. (Not that it would have mattered given my current wardrobe!) Now I've lived in many places, run in many circles and been judged on many things: how far/long/fast I run, the car/truck I drive, the kind of board I ride, the quality of violin I play, what concertos I have mastered, what senate and/or congress person's office I interned in, or didn't, what schools I went to, sports I played, music I listened to, how well my kids behave, how many I have, how I look in a swimsuit, the house we own, the lawn outside, what I do or my husband does, even the clothes or jewelry I wear....but in New York, it's all about your shoes. Although mine are usually hand-me-downs and dated, these were from Target (and dated). Like my dress. My sister had also requested that no one wear black. So none of us out-of-town guests wore black.....Have ya ever stuck out like a neon sign? Thank God for red wine; it was a great party.

The weekend went by fast and I soon found myself at the airport, waiting for my flight home. I was wearing my very casual, brown plaid, cloth Sketchers (my "surf shoes"), which are actually guys shoes but who's counting?! I decided I needed a few more treats to bring the kids so while in line for a coffee I grabbed some cool designer cookies in the shapes of taxis and flowers. Having grabbed too much, everything started dropping from my arms. Another passenger ran over to help. She kindly set me straight and then looking back up said, "I love your shoes!"

"Why, thank you," I said, having now come full circle and knowing she must be headed in my direction to the place I comfortably call home.

(Day 10) B.Y.O.B.: YOU!

2011-10-10T00:14:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

So, I'll admit it: This thirty-one days of posting, well, it has not been as easy as I had hoped. There are dishes to do, laundry to fold, kids to feed, disasters to avert, critters to save (darn cat), lessons to teach, miles to run, etc. etc., I mean really, who has time to write every. single. day?! It has made me acutely aware of how much effort it takes to actually write and edit and rewrite. (Maybe I need to shorten it up a bit....hmmmm....) So, thanks for bearing with me through these first 10 days of the challenge. It's a blessing to have readers like you. Yes, YOU are my blessing. Thanks for sticking it out, even though this may not be my very best effort to date!

What blessings have stuck with you this week?

Wrestling with God

2011-10-09T06:45:00.000-07:00

²⁴ So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. ²⁵ When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. ²⁶ Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”
   But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
²⁷ The man asked him, “What is your name?”
   “Jacob,” he answered.
²⁸ Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”
²⁹ Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.”
   But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there. --Genesis 32:24-29

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." --Matthew 18:3

A few months ago I preached a sermon entitled Walking With God. Now, while I am not a preacher in my day job (although my children might beg to differ) it was not a difficult thing to do because I believe the message I delivered. (That and I like a forgiving audience!) Seriously though, I believe we are called to walk with God an entire lifetime while trusting in His will for our lives and living that out to its fullest. Yet here I am a few months later laughing at myself (again) because while I might aim to walk with God in my everyday life, my faith is far more consistent with Jacob's wrestling match than with Mary's complete surrender, submission and total adoration. And while I know I am not alone, that doesn't necessarily make it easy.

I so often wish my faith was like that of a child. I spend quiet moments imagining what that might look like in my life, how that might transform my everyday interactions, filling them with an abundance of meaning and joy, simplicity and peace. And I am filled with envy when I meet fellow travelers whose faith is so solid and unwavering....and perfectly childlike. And I know that if I got to choose my childlike faith, I would choose a faith filled with the contagious joy and enthusiasm that we so frequently experience from our three year old, Liam.

You see, a few weeks ago, Liam was part of Bible Sunday at church; that is the day that our church gifts our 3 year olds and 3rd graders with their very own Bibles. I had told Aidan and Liam they would both be receiving their Bibles that day: Aidan would be getting his first full-version study Bible and Liam would be receiving the children's story Bible of which we already have three.

As the minister called all the children forward for children's time, I told the four kids to go on up and remember to be quiet and good. (Famous last words....) Liam wanted to take a pew Bible with him, not understanding that he would be getting his own. After convincing him to go empty handed and sit next to Aidan, he finally ran forward and pushed his way in next to his brother. They began handing the Bibles out one by one to the 3 year olds. Liam could hardly sit still. Ok, truth be told, he flat out couldn't sit still and by the time they had gotten to his name, he had already gotten up twice to come ask me when he'd get his Bible. When they finally called his name, he jumped up, took his Bible, and before sitting down, he lifted it up in the air to show me. "LOOK! I got my Bible!!" Beaming, he sat down, clutching his Bible to his chest.

They finished up and sent the kids off to Sunday School. Not wanting to lose his, Aidan dropped his Bible off with me. I tried to convince Liam to do the same but his arms tightened around it and he exclaimed, "No, ME read it, ME read it," and ran off with the others. As he exited the sanctuary via the center aisle, he told everyone, "Look! My Bible! I got my Bible!" He was very well received, to say the least.

When church was over, I went to get Liam from his class. He was still clutching his Bible. He refused to let me take it so that he could get down the stairs easily when we went to pick up the other kids from their classes. ("No, MY Bible!") He also wouldn't consider allowing me to hold it for him so that we could get back up the stairs in a timely manner so as not to hold up traffic. ("No! I LOVE my Bible!") And when it was time to go to the pancake breakfast, I told him he would not be allowed to eat if he didn't give me the Bible. ("No eat!") He chose to go hungry. All the while, he joyfully and excitedly stopped everyone we came across, eagerly telling them he had his very own Bible.

And as I thought about the irony in my fierce efforts to take the Bible away from my child, knowing that there may very well be a day when I wish he'd keep it just a little closer to his life, I realized that his is the faith I wish I had: a faith that clings to God's word even when the pressure is strong to just let it go; a faith that clutches God close while enthusiastically sharing the good news with everyone around; a faith that holds tight, holds on, holds us together, even in the face of hunger and pain; a determined faith of someone who knows they are loved and loved well.

Yet, like Jacob, I wrestle with God, in my questioning and doubts, in unbelief and disbelief. "Stop fighting me already, it's morning! Time to get to work," God says. Yet, stubbornly I resist: "Who are you? Please tell me your name," I ask over and over, not entirely sure I believe it. And while I remain humbled by my seemingly fair-weathered faith, I "cling to that old rugged cross," stubbornly refusing to let go. And even though I don't have all the answers (shoot, I'm not sure I have any of them!), and I mess it all up time and time again, I am certain God is with me in my struggle, perhaps even throwing a wrench in my hip ever so often, as He calls me forward, urging me to seek Him out in all that I do. And at the end of the struggle, God remains unchanged and I, changed for the better.

At least, I hope so. (But if you see me limping, you know why!)

Left Hand Descending

2011-10-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I have written too much about the teaching (violin and piano lessons) that I do in my spare time (insert chortle like someone who just snorted milk up their nose...or is it out? I can never get that one right). Somehow it must've slipped my mind in between all the other million things that seem to go on around here. Or perhaps it has been in half my posts and in my sleep deprived state, I just can't seem to remember what day it is much less what I have written.

At any rate, I had one of those "moments" recently while teaching. My student was trying to play a Hanon exercise for me but it became apparent very quickly that she wasn't quite ready for prime time, as my father is fond of saying. She could play hands separately just fine but putting them together, well, that was an entirely different thing. It seemed to get especially tricky on the descent. (For those of you who are not musicians, Hanon is a series of finger exercises for the piano in which you play a particular pattern up the keys a couple octaves and then back down again. Some say it is boring and monotonous but I find it almost mesmerizing, relaxing, rejuvenating even; like rocking in a rocking chair back and forth, or how some people must actually love swimming laps in a pool instead of just enduring them like the rest of us who choose to torture ourselves in that fashion. Again, similar to how some people feel about Hanon, but I digress.) At any rate, I kept having her repeat the descending left hand, then adding the right slowly to no avail. And it hit me that this is very much how life can be at times. You get parts of it right. You even get all of it right at different times but it's the putting it all together that can be so difficult to accomplish. There are times in life when things simply don't come together for whatever the reason. Sometimes it is no fault of our own. Other times it is. Quite often it's just juggling too many balls where any one of them alone would be easy as pie.

As I was working with her, I tried to point out how she had no problem playing the parts separately. Even though she was struggling to get them together, she definitely knew each part. She had successfully learned both hands. There is often success underneath our failings, little victories inside our fallings short. There is often plenty of goodness to uncover; sneaky bits of progress to discover just hiding in there. Sometimes all we need is someone to remind us that just because we aren't getting our hands together perfectly yet, we are not total failures. We have plenty to work with; we just have to keep giving it our best until one day we get it, whatever it is. Or maybe we won't but you know, some things, well, they're only Hanon.

It made me think of a scene from a few weeks ago. I had taken the five kids to play in the cul-du-sac down the street and at one point I saw Madeline prowling around in the neighbor's landscaping.

"Madeline, get out of their flowers," I reprimanded. "We don't walk through landscaping. People work hard to make their yards pretty and....." I was about to go on when she interrupted.

"Sorry, Mommy. I was just looking at the beautiful butterfly," she said so innocently as this enormous butterfly came darting up from the yard and right toward where I was standing with Solomon, nearly hitting me in the face. She went chasing after it as my heart dripped from the dagger I pictured plunging into it. When do we stop chasing the butterflies? Heck, when do we stop even noticing them?

Fleeting are those moments. How easy it is in the hustle and bustle and worries of this world to miss the forest for the trees. How easy it is to get stuck on the flailing Hanon exercises of life. How easy it is to feel like we have failed miserably when really, we just need a little more time, a different focus, a certain someone who is willing to believe in us and rejoice in our little successes, regardless of our inability to "get it all together" presently. Perhaps recognizing our need to stop and enjoy the butterflies gently drifting by is what it's all about anyhow. Perhaps sometimes the left hand descending is good enough all on its own.

(Of course, it's a good thing my student doesn't read this blog because I'm totally making her do it again and again and again! Because sometimes what we need is someone to help us get it right when we can't seem to do it all by ourselves!)

Correction: The Who

2011-10-07T10:39:00.000-07:00

My Husband (and after-the-fact editor) sent me a little message after my last post. He wrote:

Ahhhh! Huge error, Keith Moon was the drummer for The Who. He died and was replaced by that random guy you have listed. Keith Moon, after all, is the second greatest drummer of all time, after Neil of course.

I stand corrected.....but then, isn't that the point? I am CLUELESS but WHO really cares? Bu-du-Chhhh!

There were quite a few typos though and I apologize for the inconvenience of having to figure out what I really meant. They have (hopefully) all been corrected. :)

Cheerio!

The Wrong Generation

2011-10-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

"I'm not trying to cause a big sensation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my generation
(Talkin' 'bout my generation)"
The Who

When I was little, I can recall my mom saying at one point or another that I was born a generation too late. I can recall getting my first stereo: a record player with big black plastic speakers, each containing several silver rings of descending sizes in the middle. I later regretted having picked this one as the trendier black-fabric covered speakers seemed infinitely cooler. But, it was a good lesson to me that "cool" didn't really matter. What mattered was that this well-made little stereo opened up yet another window into the world of music for me.

For many years I was content playing read-along books and children's songs on my little record player, even branching out to Stevie Wonder and friends with We Are the World. (We are the children, we are the ones who make a brighter day so....oh, sorry.) But as I got older, and moved on to tape players, my older siblings tried to turn me on to the likes of Cindy Lauper and Madonna, Duran Duran and Kiss, but to no avail. You see, I loved 50's music (and square dancing and re-runs of all the old sit coms depicting life in the fifties and little black and white tile in bathrooms and Woolworths with it's malt shop in the back).... I still have the poodle skirt my mom made me for something or another but gosh darn if the elastic didn't up and die so that it no longer stays up....on Madeline of course....I mean, I'm beyond Poodle Skirts now....um, er....

At any rate, while the pop music of the time did nothing for me, my brother inadvertently turned me to classical music in pre-adolescence when he gave me a tape of Issac Stern playing Beethoven's Violin Concerto, or maybe it was Brahms. But from then on I listened to all the great violin concertos I could get my hands on. After all, I was an aspiring musician and that type of music seriously intrigued me like no other. So, while others my age were singing "You Can't Touch This" and other such "stuff" for lack of a kinder word, I was humming 50's and classical music in my head, truly marching to the beat of my own drummer. It just didn't happen to be the likes of Charlie Watts, Tico Torres, Steven Adler, Eric Kretz, Zac Starkey, or, sorry to say Kurt, Neil Peart or any other drummer from bands I couldn't hum a tune from to save my life. (And yes, I had to do a big google search to even come up with those drummers' names who played for Rolling Stones, Bon Jovi, Guns N' Roses, STP, The Who, and Rush, in that order.) Really, how alternative is "alternative music" when EVERYONE is listening to it?

I don't know why I am like this but ask me about any music or musician or rock band on the radio during the 80's and 90's and I will stare at you blankly as if you just asked me to prove the quadratic formula using only toothpicks and pickles. I was too immersed in the Everly Brothers, the Coasters, and perhaps a little Patsy Cline to keep up with, um, whoever they were. Sure, I eventually found the Beatles (who didn't?) and other bands of the 60's and 70's but, until I was knee deep in adolescence and fell head over heels for jazz (think Stan Getz and Kenny Barron, Ella Fitzgerald and Billy Holiday, oh and we can't forget Johnny Hartman, mmmm), nothing really did it for me like some good old 50's music or Isaac Stern playing any of the great violin concertos.

Kurt and I were at a dinner party a year or so ago when a song by The Who came on and Kurt, being the loving husband he often is, teasingly said from across the table, "Hey Karen, who sings this?" Had I known, and been wittier and perhaps even somewhat comfortable with the surrounding company, I might have replied "What's on second?" but no, I just stared blankly at him with silent but deadly thoughts racing through my brain as I tried to deconstruct the quadratic formula with toothpicks and pickle juice. And of course, all of the previous conversation stopped right on cue, all eyes on me. So, it came out that not only was I by far the youngest chickie at the table, but I was clueless about pop music (actually pop culture in general to be honest) and the host proceeded to go through his very hip iPhone connected to his iTunes connected to the iBone connected to the Hip Bone (which apparently I don't have!) connected to the wireless everything which of course made the speakers work like magic or something (wow, when did they come up with all that?) and he went song by song asking me if I knew who sung this or that....no, nope, nada aaaand no again....oh, oh, I got that one, it's ol' blue eyes himself....God I love Sinatra....But I was burning by that point because, even though he didn't mean to, Kurt had just thrown me under the bus. And I am not talking Jerome Bettis here or the puny school buses Liam rides. No, we're talking those double-decker buses over seas. Ouch, that hurt!

But wait, it gets better. So the neighbor from up the street who is sitting next to me leans over and says, "Karen, if you could only listen to one more song, at the end of which you would die, what would it be?" I paused. As much to go through the files and files of beloved music in my head as to make some silent judgments myself, I mean come on! Get off it already!

"Probably Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto but you know, I'd have to really think about it," I said, thinking through the various requiems and symphonies I have loved over the years....wondering if I would pick the most beloved, or the one that lasts the longest! He looked at me, apparently using toothpicks and pickles to solve something in his head and turned back to the conversation about why I apparently don't like rock music. Do I think I am BETTER than rock bands? Am I somehow superior in nature to them, the host wanted to know? He seemed very intrigued but somehow it felt a bit more like, I don't know, HUMILIATION?! Why can't I just like different music than the herd? If I was listening mostly to the Golden Oldies station and Classical and Jazz, why would I know who, um, [insert band name or random singer here] was? I was the kid who didn't talk music to other kids, or just smiled and nodded or perhaps went to my happy place during those conversations and ate pickles on toothpicks while doing math equations....and no I have no idea where the toothpicks and pickles came from, maybe I am secretly wishing I had pregnancy cravings while reviewing grade school math?

Things were a little better in high school when, caving to the pressure, I was able to sing every song by the Indigo Girls with my girlfriends and we listened to the same song sung in every possible way (yet sold as different songs somehow) by the Cranberries. And of course, I was the designated driver for my boyfriend and his buddies to some pretty "big" concerts, starting with Helmet, where one of our friends broke his leg in the mosh pit (interestingly enough, that just doesn't happen in an orchestra pit...unless of course you accidentally misstep and fall in!) and then Bad Religion, Pennywise, Blind Melon, Lenny Kravitz. I missed Stone Temple Pilots (phew) because of a soccer tournament I believe....The list goes on and on. I dreaded them all to be honest. And when I got to choose the venue and ended up at a Yo-Yo-Ma or Perlman concert or perhaps swooning over Harry Connick Jr., ahhhh, things were just right.

At any rate, I have now branched out into Country music, and as it turns out, I must have always been a closet country music fan because just last week during the Country Music Stations Legendary Lunchtime (where listeners send in their top 7 classic country songs to be played on the radio) I was able to sing all but one of the 5 songs I heard which included old timers like Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, even the song Delta Dawn. Who knew I was such a fan! But looking back, even the country singers we listened to growing up were old school.

So not too long ago, I overheard a conversation between Madeline and Lily about texting boyfriends. (You'd think we could wait a few years to worry about either but no....) And I couldn't help but thinking like an old person: Back in my day we'd actually pick up a phone, one that couldn't fit conveniently in your back pocket nor be carried from room to room, and we'd have real, live, vocal conversations with our suitors....you know, back in the olden days when sentences were more than a series of hopeful letters just waiting to be decoded....

I can recall meeting a girl in grade school who had clipped and cut everything she could get her hands on for her New Kids on the Block scrapbook....I had never even heard of them (and wish I hadn't once I had) and while I envied her for feeling so connected to something and so excited about cutting and pasting and collecting etc, I couldn't see what the big deal was.....As far as I could tell Bach rocked. Ever heard of Paderewski or Berg or Bruch or Albinoni? Good, lasting music there.

So, it's no wonder that when Kurt announced yesterday that "Lani Jane died," my response was, "Um, who?"

"You know, the lead singer for Warrant," he told me.

"Again, who?" Seriously, it's that bad. But really, he ought to know that already.

He then played me the song Heaven.

"Oh yeah! The slow-dance song they played at all the school dances! I remember that one."

I watched the video (see link above) and had to smile. (What was with that HAIR anyway?!) They just don't do it like that anymore. And really, is that such a bad thing?

It's All Relative

2011-10-05T07:05:00.000-07:00

Relativism is the concept that points of view have no absolute truth or validity, having only relative, subjective value according to differences in perception and consideration. -Wikipedia

We have spent the last few years watching, hoping, praying, testing, and then driving Liam to all sorts of classes, doctors and other professionals who have helped get him to where he is today: a walking, talking, almost-jumping, charming three and a half year old who also happens to know all the letters and their sounds. And while we have seen progress in leaps and bounds this last year (ok, well, there haven't been any leaps yet) and we recognize he is so much closer to his peer group than he ever has been, Kurt and I still have moments of doubt and fear for him. We still wonder sometimes what the future holds and whether or not he will get caught up so completely that he can manage to get through school and hold jobs and be successfully independent on the often brutal path that life can sometimes take. And let's face it, he has a super happy disposition. It takes him half an hour to leave anywhere because he has to hug all the random strangers on the way out. Will life just squash him?

And then there are moments where we realize we have nothing to fear. One of these moments happened last week when I had finished teaching some new piano students. I went downstairs to talk to the mom, whom I had only met a week before. She was busy on the floor reading with Liam while her four children and three of mine were all playing Legos.

As I entered the room she looked up at me and said, "Liam is so smart! He knows all his letters and he read me that entire book!"

"Oh, yeah, he taught himself letters but he isn't really reading yet. He just memorized that one," I said. "And really, he is older than he looks. How old do you think he is?"

"He's three, right? He told me," she said. Now I was beaming. He finally remembered how old he is! Woo hoo! And here is someone who doesn't know our family, doesn't know Liam's story and thinks only that he is super smart. My how things have changed.

I was ecstatic to have a new point of view. I was so grateful that this mom spoke up and told me what she saw because sometimes it is easy to miss how far we have come on our journey. It was a great reminder that Liam is not the same little speechless boy we had fretted over. (Actually, I knew as much given how LOUD and NOISY he has recently become.....be careful what you pray for, sheesh!)

Later that day, while in my bathroom, I was thinking about the importance of recognizing where our children actually are instead of remaining stuck where they have been when Liam came waltzing in adorned in silky, red-satin gloves pulled up past his elbows, a red-velvet purse on his shoulder and sporting a hot pink hairband with a gigantic flower on top of his head.

"Well, perhaps it's all relative," I told him, chuckling to myself.

"What? WHAT?" he hollered back.

"Oh, nothing," I said. And he pranced on out to find the pink sword to complete his outfit.

Lily's Latest

2011-10-04T00:15:00.000-07:00

Lily: "Mommy, you know the baby you had in your tummy before Aidan?" (This can't be going anywhere good....) "I wish the baby you had in your tummy before Aidan hadn't died."

Me: "You know Lily, we were very sad at the time. But it's okay because if that hadn't happened, we never would have had Aidan."

Eerie silence....

Lily: "Weeeeeellll, you know Mom, Aidan isn't all that nice to us anyway."

Eh-hem. Ouch.

Dear (future) Aidan,
Lily really does love you. It's just, well, sometimes you can be a little tough on her. Please take no offense that she might have preferred an inviable embryo over you.
Love, Mom

Learning From (someone else's) Experience

2011-10-03T00:15:00.001-07:00

Chicken Comb Injections: "One of the most recent discoveries for treating arthritis in the knees is the use of hyaluronic acid, which is derived from the combs of chicken. By injecting this substance into the knee joint, the body uses it as a form of bio-lubricant, coating the bones and allowing them to slide smoothly rather than grate together."

Read more: Chicken Comb for Knee Pain | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/about_5369657_chicken-comb-knee-pain.html#ixzz1ZRZq6w81

Oh yes, they did! And I am guessing people are lining up in droves to get their chicken comb injections as I type! (Great for the knees, no so much for the chickens!)

****

I just have to give a big shout out to my dear hubbie Kurt for teaching the children a lesson they may never forget.

You see, last week, my mom sent us this handy-dandy, ever-useful apple corer-peeler-slicer thingamajig. (See Exhibit A...) (Oh and thanks Mom!)

The (Innocent Looking) Thingamajig

I had put it together and after a few tries (after which I read the manual to make sure I didn't do bodily harm), learned how it worked. It is fast and efficient and so much fun....and as Kurt demonstrated yesterday, it is just the right amount of physical risk to humor even the thrill seekers among us!

You see, I was out of the house teaching violin lessons when Kurt decided to use the aforementioned Thingamajig to fix an apple for the onlooking children of the house. He hadn't seen me use it however (or perhaps had not been paying enough attention when he had, I know not which....) and starting with the thingamabob exactly how it looks in the picture, stuck the apple on and proceeded to peel/slice/core the apple backwards. In and of itself, that is not a problem, although I am guessing it is not as easy as using it the correct way, you know, with the sharpened side of the blade. (No biggie, it seems that most men like to muscle through things from time to time anyhow.) However, when it came time to remove the core from the three prongs, he had to use all his might, and as the apple core made its dramatic exit from the Thingamajig, his hand flung into the sharpened side of the blade which sliced into his pinky and splattered blood ALL. OVER. EVERYTHING!

My understanding is that the looks on our childrens' faces were priceless. They will never forget and probably never eat sliced ~~fingers~~ apples again. But I have to say, that is one excellent lesson:

Children (and husbands) should avoid using unfamiliar sharp objects no matter how friendly they may appear. :)

Thanks for that, Hun! Oh, and you might want to wash the dried blood off your face....yep, there you go; you got it.

*Disclaimer: No harm, physical or otherwise, was done to the sweet Thingamajig in the above incident. He's probably off coring/slicing/peeling as I blog....but I am pretty certain there is no injection, chicken derived or otherwise, that will help the poor little digit involved!

B.Y.O.B.: Pick Your Own

2011-10-02T06:37:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessings

I snapped these pics of Lily laying in the grass at the soccer fields in her rain jacket (on a perfectly sunny day) right before Liam got stung by a bee. It was just like being at the Apple Orchard. Only, Lily wasn't picking her own apples.....

She is so doing everything I say when she gets to high school.....

What blessings can you pick out of your week?

Warning: An Entire Month of Graceful Chicken Starts.....

2011-10-01T00:15:00.000-07:00

NOW!

Just a friendly note to let you all know that starting October 1 (today!) I will be participating in what I will call a month long Blogathon. You see, there is a blogger's challenge floating around somewhere in cyberspace, wherever that is, that I am going to attempt: one full month of daily posts. My understanding is that most bloggers take on a theme and try to stick with it, keeping their writing focused. Artistic. Maybe even interesting. (See Chatting at the Sky for a great example.) But, I have decided to take the lazy-blogger's approach and just aim for a daily post. After all, I never know what might show itself "blog-worthy" on any given day and while I do have a tendency to somehow spin things just so, making one topic fit into another (sometimes better than others), I don't know that I have the creative energy to do that each and every day for 31 days. That said, I will write what comes, and perhaps actually finish and post some half-written material in the process (think: my sister's wedding...that happened in May....argh!)

Now, does this mean one too many late nights as I try to get in some last minute writing, or laundry? Possibly. Will it require frequent spontaneous stops at my favorite coffee joint to keep my brain ticking during the month? Probably. Does my role as wifemomhousekeeperlitterboxcleanermusicteacherfriendcrazyrunnerchicketc still come first on my priority list? Certainly (you can breathe easy Kurt). Do I assume there will be some abject failure here? Absolutely. But the challenge is just nipping at my heels and so I must cave to the temptation. Wish me luck! (Or, if need be, add me to your junk mailbox!)

In the meantime, check out The Graceful Chicken in this super cool new Blogger view: The Graceful Chicken

Ok then, cheerio! See ya tomorrow!

B.Y.O.B.

2011-09-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Another blogger this week asked the question: What feeds your soul?

My Answer:

The stillness of a lake high in the mountains, a rushing creek, the rise and fall of the ocean's breath, white sand, swaying tree tops, the laziness of a sticky summer evening, ice-cold water (and central air!), the autumn sun as it tints the color-streaked trees, crunchy leaves, open windows, the first snowfall of winter, the sharp, breath-taking chill, a crackling fire, the hopefulness of spring, daffodils, the birds returning with their simple melodies, the excitement buzzing around the changing seasons and the joy and laughter of my children through it all.

Creation, in all its amazing forms, feeds my soul and I am reminded over and over and over by magnificent, little things to stop, hush, and simply be thankful.

What blessings feed your soul?

Chicken Prayers

2011-09-23T20:56:00.000-07:00

Random fact: Not only is there a Chicken Bristle, Kentucky but there is also a Chicken Bristle, Illinois.

Just thought that was, um, interesting....

Recently, I have been spending some time rethinking prayer. Mostly because my mom's group at church is reading a Mother Teresa book and the first section is on prayer. At any rate, for years our bed-time prayer has gone something like this (adding children/pets as they enter our lives):

Jesus tender, shepherd hear me, bless this little child tonight.
Through the darkness, be down near me, keep me safe till morning's light.
God bless Daddy and Mommy, Aidan, Madeline, Lillian, Liam, Solomon, Leroy, Little Sally Dot and all my friends and loved ones. Help me be a good little boy/girl. Praise in Jesus' name. Amen.

I'll even admit that when I am tired and don't know where to begin my own nightly prayers, that is how I start. It only makes sense since it is basically the same prayer I grew up with. I like to think of it as my comfort-prayer. You know, like comfort-food only less fattening. Recently I started leaving space for the kids to tell God what they are thankful for. The first night, after Lily thanked God for the water in the water towers, I put little Liam in his room and he demanded a shot at praying by himself. His prayer went something like this (well this is what I heard over Aidan's and my snickering anyway):

Jesus tend night. And bless night. Aidan, Lily, Solly-mun, Aidan.....Malin, Lily....and, and cat and fish, the fish that not dead, and tank-ew for Grandma and Papa and Nanna and Nunnu and Offah, and iPod Touch, and snacks, aaaaand the bus driver. Amen.

Kids rock.
Have a great weekend!

B.Y.O.B.: Sweet, Fleeting Moments

2011-09-18T19:49:00.000-07:00

At the Apple Orchard:

A very photogenic Lily

What is Liam doing?

My Book-end Boys

Now THAT is a big tractor!

She really did wear white knee-high socks under her shiny black boots.....

Which blessings have captured your attention this week?

School: Week 1

2011-09-16T10:31:00.000-07:00

The first week of school flew right on by us. My goal this year is to stay on top of things better by being more organized and planning ahead. Here are some highlights of the perfect (albeit not-so-breezy) start.

Monday: The girls are ready by 7 a.m., about the last time Aidan is seen hugging the toilet. The poor guy missed day one due to the tummy-bug but after eight hours in front of the TV and gaming devices, he seemed no worse the wear. Solomon woke with green goop flushing out of his eyes. I cancel my gym appointment. No worries, there's always the lake in need of walkers! I am amped: we are going to have a great year!

I get home from dropping the girls off at the bus stop (where Lily told me she couldn't WAIT for nap time), get Liam ready for his bus and after he chases Solly with the broom for a few minutes, he is off to his first day of preschool.

After walking with a friend (a walk that included me running a quarter mile back home to get the tire pump so that I could blow up ALL.THREE. FLAT.TIRES on my jogging stroller....why I didn't notice that BEFORE we started, I'll never know), taking lunch to Kurt at work, and quickly coming up with a short devotional to lead at mom's group that afternoon, I pick Liam up from school, go to mom's group and then head to the grocery store (an adventure that included taking Liam to the bathroom where I stuffed his free cookie in my pocket while he went....why, Karen, why?) before picking the girls up from the bus stop. Phew....day one is half way done and I feel like I'm running my second marathon of the day!

Later in the evening, the kids start swim lessons. Liam keeps getting out of the water to ask me to come help him while Solomon squirms himself into a ball of sweat. Meanwhile, Lily won't get in the water past her feet (kicking, screaming, clawing when they try to take her) so after 40 minutes, I finally bite the bullet and walk over to ask the supervisor for advice. At that same moment, the very end of class, each of the kids gets to jump into the water into the arms of the instructor. Right as I am telling the supervisor my kid is too scared to get in the water for some reason (what should I do?), Lily happily jumps from the edge and splashes her way back to the side.....REALLY LILY? You sit there the entire 45 minutes acting like you are scared to death of the water and then somehow feel perfectly safe jumping in off the side? The supervisor asks, "You mean that little girl in pink jumping from the ledge right now?" ARGH! I might as well have taken Lily into the car mechanic and told them she was squeaking whenever I put on the brakes! She'll do better (read: cooperate) next time, I'm just sure of it (partly because we threatened to take away dessert for the rest of her childhood, or something like that, if she doesn't.....)

By bedtime, I have come down with a bad cold (thank you Solomon for those big, sloppy kisses and the heat seeking germs you sneezed onto my eyeballs!) I feel terrible.

Tuesday: We are up a little late since I am dragging from the Ny-quil I took last night. Not quite functioning up to normal standards, I pour soy sauce on Madeline's waffles....in my defense, the soy sauce and syrup containers, side by side in the fridge door, are awfully easy to get mixed up when one is in a hurry.

After salvaging the few bites that didn't get doused, she finishes eating and I still manage to get the kids to the bus stop with 20 minutes to spare. (This "getting organized the night before" thing really seems to be working!) As we wait, for the bus the kids and I talk about their new school gear. I was pointing out the hidden pockets in Aidan's super cool backpack when I noticed he was trying to secretly charge his DSi which he was trying to smuggle onto the bus. (We have rules against this which apparently he has forgotten from last year when he lost the DSi for an entire month for the same violation.) I take the game system away, claiming ownership for the rest of the week as a warning. If it happens again, it will be two months plus extra chores. We both smile about it, for obviously very different reasons.

On my way in from the bus stop, I notice the growing donation pile in my hallway and remember there is more to get rid of down in the basement. I go down to grab those items and remember I need to put the clothes in the dryer (also in the basement). Being in the laundry room reminds me I need to wash Aidan's blankets and sheets from the day before when he was sleeping on the bathroom floor, snuggling with the toilet in the wee hours of the morning. As I gather the laundry, I remember him telling me that he was eye level with at least a half dozen spiders. I grab the rags and clorox and go to work cleaning and sanitizing, silently thanking Aidan for forcing me to clean a bathroom that has gone unnoticed for far too long. I head back upstairs to throw away all the trash, forgetting to take up any of the donation stuff I had gone down for in the first place. So much for being more organized! It's only 9 a.m. though so plenty of time left to CLEAN MY ENTIRE LIFE UP before walking the lake with my friend....but then it continued....

After my walk and a brief visit to the garden, I feed Liam his lunch and take him to school, so very happy that we are right on time (and not ten minutes late like I was with Lily most of last year.) I grab Solomon and then go to get Liam out of his seat only to find he has taken his shoes off.....at. the. house! Taking a deep breath, I put Solly back in the truck and drive back to the house to get his shoes and socks. He's ten minutes late when I finally sign him in. Now I'm ten minutes late to my run with a neighbor (yes, I know, second workout of the day.....what can I say? I got excited about the freedom!) I zoom home to get Solly in the jogging stroller. I'm back on track now, or so I tell myself. We do a 5 mile-ish jog while Solly sleeps. Unfortunately, he awakes before I get my shower so I clear the bathroom of the most common baby magnets (trash can, extra toilet paper rolls, plunger, etc.) and put him on the floor to play with some cars. When I get out, Solomon is sitting in the middle of a HUGE pile of toilet paper; he had unraveled the entire roll on the wall. (See my last post.) Apparently I missed that one. The day is much smoother after that, although Aidan lost his lunch box at school (yes, day one for him and he's already down one lunch box....and his water bottle...).

Wednesday: Life didn't quite go as planned yesterday but no worries, I am going to make up for it today. Kids at school, workout, groceries, clean house (again), pick up kids, prep for swimming (Kurt took them and with treats hanging over her head, Lily did in fact swim, of course), go teach lessons, check, check, check, check, check.....the only snag, Aidan couldn't find his lost lunchbox. I threaten to make him eat school lunch everyday if he can't find it. We'll see how that plays out.

Thursday: Everything is going very smooth now that I am adjusting to such a quiet house....outside of trying to sweep while feeding Solly his bottle (one handed sweeping is an acquired skill), I can't complain. I even went to Home Goods and got some shopping done (a new Bialetti stovetop espresso maker to replace our old one and a few Christmas gifts) Oh, and Aidan left his second lunchbox on the bus.....Week one and he has now lost TWO lunchboxes. That settles his lunches for some time now....he can choose to use the extra princess lunchbox or just eat the hot lunch. Hee hee hee.

Friday: House is clean, kids are at school, Solomon is sleeping, good friend just left after a couple hours of coffee, chatting and testing the Chocolate Zucchini Cupcakes I made last night. We plan a sewing get together for next month as I dream of all I might get accomplished with only a kid or two around. (On deck: borrowing a food processor to make another couple batches of pesto with the basil I salvaged before the frost hit yesterday! Somehow it doesn't seem right that we are already in the 30s at night! Yikes!)

All in all, this has been a great beginning to what looks like a terrific year! (So long as I don't ever get sick and nothing out of the ordinary happens....of course, the ordinary includes a whole lot of craziness in this house!)

Have a great weekend!

Toilet Paper Chicken

2011-09-13T20:33:00.000-07:00

Toilet Paper Chicken - A sign of a slightly dysfunctional share house. The toilet paper has run out and everyone [complains] about it but there has been no agreement to take it in turns to buy more and no conversation occurs to resolve the situation. The person who bought the last packet flat out refuses to buy more out of principle so it is a game of chicken between the remaining housemates to see who gives in first and buys some more. --from the Urban Dictionary

(Seriously, that must be a guy thing....)

Being a mom of young children requires that you navigate your way through what used to be seemingly simple things. You know those things we all take for granted....like showering for instance? Have you ever tried to sneak in a quick shower when you have a mobile and highly curious eight month old baby?

I have learned over the years that the simple act of showering with children under foot takes a very calculated effort. But even when fairly well thought out, it can still go very, very wrong.

Take today for instance. I planned to shower when Solly was sleeping but since he didn't cooperate, I went to plan B. I prepped the bathroom, putting everything he'd be interested in up high:
Trash can, check
Plunger, check
Extra toilet paper roll holder, check

And then I put him on the floor with a few toy cars so I could hop in the shower.....

But I forgot one little detail....

Solomon found it....

...and it made him very happy....

....so happy he wanted more.

(Ew! Is that the toilet brush??? How did I miss that?! ICK!)

The little stinker!

I think he is daring me to put a new roll on...No way Solly, you used it up, you do it.....

(Somehow I think I he's got the advantage here....darn diapers!)

As We Remember: September 11

2011-09-11T10:56:00.000-07:00

As we remember....

As we remember, may the heavens open wide, replenishing us.

As we remember....

As we remember, may our honor, strength and courage endure, uniting us.

As we remember....

As we remember, may God also remember His creation,
holding it,
healing it,
guiding it,
saturating it
with His grace, love and peace,
forever changing us.

In the Garden

2011-09-09T20:26:00.000-07:00

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses,
and the voice I hear falling on my ear, the son of God discloses.
--Miles, C. Austin

Well, ok, so there are no roses in my backyard garden and I almost never make it out there before the dew has burnt off and I am pretty certain that the voices I hear are that of five little children screaming at me from the deck because "he pushed me" "because she annoyed me" and "mom, can I have the iPod" and "me want toast!" (The only thing God is disclosing in these moments is that I really need to teach them how to weed more and fight less and perhaps use proper grammar!)

But alas, I do frequently go out to my garden alone. I like to dig my hands in the gritty dirt and really feel the earth. I like to watch the little seeds grow from seemingly nothing into great big plants and overtaking, jungle-like vines. I admit, I love my garden shoes my mom bought me for my birthday and I jump at the chance to put them on for a bit..... And I absolutely LOVE, and by love I am talking about the giddiness of a child in the candy shop with a grandparent whose last words they hear are "whatever you want dear," I LOVE when it is time to harvest.

Well, YEEEEE-HAW and hallelujah! It's harvest time.

I have to admit, this year has been a little disappointing. The weather has been odd (which basically means it has been normal for Minnesota although those of us living here always like to pretend that "this is so unusual" for any given time of year.) The summer was cooler or drier or wetter or something (I am not 100% sure because we were gone for so much of it.)

But, the tomatoes did very poorly (I say this as I am weeding full-fledge tomato plants out of the garden that came up while I was in Florida....from seeds still hanging around from last year's crop!) The few corn stalks we planted out-and-out died (apparently even corn needs water, who'd've thought!) Two of our apple trees didn't grow any apples....again. Most of the peas I planted never bore any peas. One of my zucchini plants gave me two humungous zucchinis and then withered away into nothingness (from dust to dust.....) Fortunately, the other zucchini plant made up for it by creating new shoots and taking over the middle of the garden. Now if it would just keep up the veggie-bearing.....but I believe the days are numbered.

At any rate, not including the spinach and lettuce that we ate in abundance early on, the big winners this year are:

1) Kale....I am the only one who really likes it (think kale-chips, sauteed kale, soy-sauce drenched kale, etc.) but since even the garden pests avoid eating it, the kale has been a HUGE success in my opinion.

These plants are almost as tall as Liam, not that that says too much but still. They are enormous!

2) Brussel sprouts....they have been super fun although no one seems to want to eat them either. Madeline requested that we grow them because she used to eat them up, yum. But alas, they are apparently more fun to grow than to eat!

See if you can find the fuzzy caterpillar on the plant....it's like a "where's waldo" picture....ok, maybe not, but Fuzzy is in there, I assure you.

3) Green beans....these are the super delicious beans my mother-in-law gave me last year (and if I am correct, her father grew them in Italy and brought them here and she has been growing them from seed each year ever since, but I might have that story wrong so don't quote me...) I planted far more seeds than we got plants but we are finally harvesting too many green beans to actually eat so it all worked out. (Thanks Mamma Maria....these are "proven winners" with the kids, too!)

4) The vining fruits are coming into their own and we can't wait to try them! I am giving them instant winner status this year just because they are so cool to watch grow! Have you ever seen a canteloupe change from a green hanging bulb into the fruit we see in the store? It is really cool!

Here is a sampling of one day's pick a week or so ago:

Here is what came out two days later:

I suppose there is nothing to be disappointed about when I really take stock of what we are getting. Shoot, I could feed an entire village in many places in the world! We are truly grateful! But I am definitely in need of a few new recipes. There is only so much sliced-grated-peeled-unpeeled-raw-baked-sauted-boat-filled-zucchini one can eat. I'm getting ready to try out a few new chocolate zucchini bread/cake/muffin recipes to freeze for winter but surely there is something I am missing! And along those lines, I now have enough pesto to last us all year.....mmmmmm.....I'm so glad I planted that second basil plant. I think I will make another dozen batches of pesto before the frost hits.

But my favorite story in this year's garden adventure has to do with the watermelons I planted. You see, about mid-spring the kids and I decided we would add some melons to our garden. We went to the store, picked out some nice looking watermelon plants and a few cantaloupe plants as well and planted them against the fence of our garden. Well, a month or so later I was looking at one of the watermelon vines, thinking, "What oddly shaped watermelons." The other plant had fruit coming in like this, clearly a watermelon:

But, the odd "watermelon" plant had fruit growing like this with much greener stripes at the time:

So, I kept thinking, well, maybe there is a different species of watermelon I don't know about. Or perhaps they just start off oddly shaped before filling in. All the while, I couldn't help but think they sure looked more like a squash. Then one day I told Kurt to come take a look at the funky melons we were growing and he said, "Are you sure they are watermelons? They look like squash." I didn't buy any squash but something in his matter-of-fact way snapped me back to reality. Well, duh. They certainly are squash....lots and lots of butternut squash! And just about ready to pick, too!

What a pleasant surprise! Apparently the nursery mixed up the plants because I know I bought a 4-pack of watermelons. It's like two-for-the-price-of-one if you think about it. Who needs four watermelon vines when you can have two watermelon and two butternut squash vines instead??? (I just wish they would have labeled them correctly so that I wasn't sitting here confused all summer!) Now, I will need to find a good butternut squash soup recipe that I can freeze....anyone? Anyone?

"And the joy we share, as we tarry there, none other has ever known."

Happy 70th, Dad!

2011-09-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

In honor and celebration of my father's 70th birthday (and because I totally failed to get a card and gift off in time and am hoping this will do!) I wanted to share a story that illustrates what it was like growing up with my dad.

This story took place two days ago. We were on our way home from the gym. Madeline and Lily were sitting side by side when Madeline shared a concern with me.

"Mom, whenever I bend my arm like this, it really hurts," Madeline said as she bent her fist up towards her shoulder, flexing her bicep.

Without missing a beat, five year old Lily looked at her and said, "Well, then don't bend it like that, Madeline." (She might as well have included a great big "DUH!" at the end given the way she said it.)

I wanted to ask: "Dad? Is that you? How are you possessing my child while you are still alive and well down in Gatorland?"

But that is EXACTLY what it was like living with my dad: a doctor by profession but a ~~comedian~~ kid at heart. He was the best doctor I ever had, so long as I wasn't sick or injured. (Just teasing, dad.)

Ask him if some procedure will hurt and to this day his response will be, "No, it won't hurt me a bit." (I am just positive that one day he might regret telling a patient that....surely some clown will make him eat those words mid-procedure.....surely....)

At any rate, I can recall being a child and telling him that my (insert any body part here) hurt when I touched it "like this" (or some other lame complaint) and his exact response would be, "Well then don't do that." If I asked him if I was going to die he would always answer with a resounding: "Yes (PAUSE) but not because of this." And while he was constantly using humor to negate our complaints, illnesses and ailments, it really did wonders. I'd ask him what the medication he was giving me would do: "Will it make me sick?" I always wanted to know and he would tell me something like: "Not any sicker than you already are," or "No, but it might turn your hair green," and other such things. (By the time I was 10, I insisted on reading the informational insert on ever medication from start to finish before taking anything he gave me. And truth be told, I still do. A good, albeit paranoid, habit if you ask me. Thanks, Dad!)

And because he didn't panic when my temperature once hovered in the 104-105 degree range and I was somewhat hallucinating on the kitchen floor with my mom holding my half limp body while trying to fill me with fluids and Tylenol, I know that my kids will be okay when they feel like they're on fire and it takes all I have just to keep them hydrated and medicated.

And then there was the time he told my mom over the phone how to tie up my brothers hair in order to close up a head laceration and she did it. And it worked. And because of that I now know that all that blood is not that big of a deal. And even the random head laceration will be okay so long as you stay calm and put on enough pressure. And get it closed up, although I admit we prefer the somewhat more traditional ER-trip method....

And I loved the fact that he gave me my own medical bag to really play doctor with. It included a real stethoscope, bandages and band-aids, splints, gauze and medical tape, ear drops, chewable Vitamin C, children's aspirin and Dimetapp. Best imagination-play ever! My father is a wee bit crazy and perhaps a little unorthodox in spots but somehow it is the perfect pairing as he is truly an amazing physician. And thanks to him I was the healthiest kid, the least likely to have a heart attack and slept really well, no coughing whatsoever! (No, no, I'm just kidding. He was even good about making sure I was responsible with my play-meds. At 5 years of age. No joke.)

But my all-time favorite dad-doctoring moment was the time I was sucking on an ice cube and I accidentally sucked it into my esophagus and swallowed it whole. Not only did it hurt like the dickens, but it left me with the sensation that there was something lodged in my throat and I panicked. I called my father at work and told him what had happened, sure that my prognosis was dismal. My dad didn't even pause before asking all the right questions to assure me he understood the issue and then with a perfectly serious voice told me that the cure for swallowing ice cubes was to take another ice cube and rub it on my bellybutton FOR TEN MINUTES.

Yes, yes he did.

And I did just that. Reddest belly you ever saw. And I guess it really worked because I am sitting here writing a happy birthday post just a few weeks later and my throat feels just fine! (Ok, so it's been closer to three decades later....sigh. Time flies. And it ain't the Goodyear Blimp unfortunately!)

So, with that, I just want to say thanks dad! I'm a terrific fixer-upper for my own kids because of you. You, a little humor, and Tylenol. Oh, and band-aids. And, of course, ice cubes.....

Happy Birthday!

ONLY IN FLORIDA

2011-09-02T23:11:00.000-07:00

Seriously. So I thought I was done with the Florida posts for the summer but, alas, this story is too good to pass up. (And by "good" I am referring to the accidental spiking of the fruit punch at a birthday party. Oh wait, no, it's more like the ridiculously-crazy-must-be-rehashed-on-my-blog type of good....)

So, picture it:
There you are, driving by the old-lady-down-the-street's house, honking to say hi like you always do and you see her being EATEN BY AN ALLIGATOR! (Did I not warn you? Tsk tsk. She should have been reading Graceful Chicken.) Please click here for the full story.

Now, I don't know what you saw when you read that article but a couple things in there stuck out to me like ~~the teats of a milking cow, a turd in the punchbowl,~~ a fox in the chicken coop:

1) First of all, it is so southern I can almost taste the fried chicken ~~grease~~ juice drippin' off the screen. Not only did the neighbor say this woman was "as nice as the day is long" but her relative said that telling her not to pick mangoes from the tree next to the canal was like "telling a song bird not to sing." (They really do talk that way down in those parts. Honest.)

2) The neighbor driving by just happened to have a gun with him. In his car. On his way home from work. Because he might need it to shoot a rogue alligator in the right eye before it eats the neighbor??? You just never know.

3) And I quote: “For area residents that have lived here all their lives, they’re still in a state of shock.” Really? Because YOU LIVE IN A SWAMP! It's the EVERGLADES! Wake up people! Stop acting like you were inside the outhouse when lightening struck, are now two bricks short of a load and couldn't manage to hit the broad side of a barn! You are choosing to risk "death by gator" every time you step out of your house; and perhaps half the time you are IN your house too, knowing Florida! And while it is fine and dandy to *know* you have to run zig zag to get away from those creatures, if you are 90 years of age, call me crazy but you might be at a slight disadvantage! Unless your neighbor happens to be passing by, in his truck, on the way home from work, with his gun, and sees you BEING EATEN ALIVE!

Holy sandspur in my flip-flops! If that ain't a bumblebee in my bluejeans sort of day, I don't know what is!

Really. (And they say chickens are close relatives to these monsters....even if it is so, at least chickens don't EAT YOU!)

And then my mom texts me a picture of the headline in the paper....it's fuel for the fire mama. (Didn't nobody ever tell you not to play with that there fire?) But, because I hosted a brunch today that seriously lasted like seven hours (I'm not kidding....the last guest went to college for archeology and I am pretty certain she was digging for the skeletons in my closet....) I didn't reply to the text quickly and so I get this email from her that only slightly hinted of urgency that a hurricane is coming and I had best be going on my way now: Karen, did you get the newspaper article I pictured to you today? About the 90yr old woman, attacked by an alligator, and she lost her leg?

Yes, thank you for that mom, and the nightmares to follow. (I swear I do not know what I did growing up but she is definitely trying to get me back for something!)

Well, on that note, have a great weekend! Oh, and I know of a little old lady down in Florida who is lucky to have only lost her leg (who is perhaps about to fall off the back edge of yonder) and who might need a prayer or two....hundred.

P.S. Florida

2011-09-01T22:20:00.000-07:00

In the wake of Hurricane Irene, I have to make an official hurricane statement. After writing about the alligators, several people mentioned to me how crazy it must have been to grow up in a place threatened by hurricanes each year. The conversations somehow went from the crazy alligators to "Oh, and you have to worry about hurricanes there, too" to which I immediately showed my true Floridian identity by totally and completely denying that hurricanes are that big of a deal.

"Oh, well, you know, they give you lots of warning and anyway, most of them veer north so you know, they aren't as bad as let's say tornadoes, or earthquakes, sheesh, earthquakes. Don't even get me started on those. They just sneak up on you out of nowhere! At least with hurricanes you have enough time to fully evacuate if necessary." Um, right.

And I have to laugh because I was up really late tonight and happened to notice an animal prowling in our yard. My first thought was, "What is that gigantic beast? Could it be an oversized fox? If I were in Florida I would be thinking baby panther or perhaps a lion escapee from the local zoo...."

Yeah, it was a big cat chasing a bug.

But really, Florida has so much character (read: it's where the wild things are). It's the only place I know where having asked a family member if she ever saw this old (not-so-great) former friend of hers she answered: "Oh yeah, he was on TV recently......Because his house fell into a sink hole."

Seriously. Only in Florida.

B.Y.O.B.: Helmets

2011-08-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessings:

Full-Face Bike Helmets.

While it doesn't look too terrible, this is the broken helmet Aidan was sporting when the other four kids and I finally made it down the hill near Starring Lake Park. He had apparently lost control on his crazy scooter (a Razor PowerWing) and I found him huddled up in the grass, sobbing in his blood and broken ego. On close inspection, he had no major injuries outside of the helmet's visor (thank goodness!) and only required about half an hour cleaning to get the gravel out of his knees, elbow, back, bum, shoulder, etc....but nothing on his head and face! Woo hoo! Go gigantic-oversized-full-faced-helmet-that-is-technically-meant-for-extreme-sports-and-motorbikes-bought-only-because-I-am-a-mostly-risk-adverse-person-and-didn't-want-to-take-any-chances! (Thanks for that gene mom!)

I also just want to say what a blessing it is to have seen Madeline's little skull when she was just a wee little thing because, you see, now I tend to stay calm and collected when I see blood all over. How much easier was this to handle all by myself when my greatest concern quickly became trying to avoid getting bit by the mosquitoes while we got Aidan back to the car! Love the perspective a ~~few~~ half dozen ER visits bring.

Where have you unexpectedly been blessed by previous decisions or foresight?

Leapin' Lizards (Florida Review)

2011-08-25T10:15:00.000-07:00

I'm fairly certain my mom wonders why I give Florida such a hard time. (Hello? Alligators!) It's not that I want to, it's just that, well, here's a snapshot of a one week segment during our Florida trip:

So, the kids had been swimming a lot and wanted to take a break. I suggested they go out to play in the sandbox. Lily was super excited and ran inside to try to convince the others to join her while I went to ~~check for gators~~ clean the sandbox up a bit since it hadn't been played in for a while. There were sticks and leaves, and water filled buckets (i.e. mosquito sitting on their nests, just waiting for their new brood to hatch and coming over ever so often for some sweet human nectar to hold them over till they could teach the next generation to feed on us...) and other such debris in it. I first started by getting rid of all the big twigs and leaves. I then dumped out a bucket full of water and as I was doing so I happened to notice a suspicious looking spider hanging up under the corner seat. Always on guard in Florida, I dumped the water on the spider. It landed in the sand and lo and behold it had a HUGE RED HOURGLASS on its belly. So I did what any responsible parent would do, I used the closest sand toy to fling it out of the sandbox toward the other side of the yard. Nope, no deadly spiders here, you can't prove a thing....la-ti-da.

Well, as luck would have it, Lily couldn't get anyone else on board anyway because it was so hot, so we all went back to the swimming pool. It hadn't been two hours since I found the lovely widow spider when I heard Madeline shout, "A Snake! A Snake!" as she jumped back into the deep end and swam quickly away.

Sure enough, there was a lovely snake trapped in the pool area trying to wiggle out of the screen. My mom studied it to make sure it wasn't poisonous (something we don't have to do here in MN I might add) and we caught it in the pool net to take it out back to meet up with the spider still on the loose.

Well, then the kids got the bright idea that lizards would make great pets; after all, they are a dime a dozen around the pool. The girls were so excited when they had caught the first one.

Which soon became two....

And then 5.....

And then 8.....

I had to put a stop to it because, well, really, how many lizards does one bucket need? I was just glad they weren't shooting them with a b-b-gun like my brother used to do. Ick.

A few days later we were at my grandmother's house in Lakeland, FL and we were fortunate to catch a sighting of the house gecko. You see, there has been this rather large spotted gecko living outside her house for years now....it makes a lot of noise but I have to admit, it is pretty cool.

So, once we got back to my childhood home, we had a good friend over who is about to make a trek to Africa. She told us about all the things she needed for her adventure, like vaccines and mosquito nets etc. I asked, "Oh, so did you rent the mosquito net or buy it?"

"Oh, I bought it," she said. "I can use it here when I get back. It will really come in handy in my house."

She was serious.

And the night before we left, as I was debating in my mind whether the most recent (massive) mosquito bite on my leg looked more like a skunk, or a squirrel or "no, I think it definitely looks like a cat," I realized it was certainly time for my departure as I was getting eaten alive. One day, they will recommend all tourists visiting FL to bring mosquito nets. I wish I had! While everyone knows about the infiltration of the humans in the innocent mosquitoes' natural habitat, I wish we knew how to make them head south for the summer....or forever.

But even worse than the dozens of bites I seemed to come in with daily (which really is only an issue because there is always the possibility of them CARRYING WEST NILE VIRUS!), was the roach that crawled out of the box I was holding and ran up my arm. If you have never had a roach with those scratchy, brittle little legs crawl up your arm you are surely missing out. There is nothing quite like it. Thank God. (We don't have those here either.)

So, you see, it is rather easy to give Florida a hard time. As beautiful as it is, there are simply too many ~~strange, wild, crazy~~ other creatures sharing the space. Have I mentioned the alligators?

Alligators

2011-08-15T21:17:00.000-07:00

While visiting my family in Florida, I had the wonderful opportunity of reading an article seemingly written to debunk the myths surrounding alligators. Now, I want to admit my bias upfront. Short of claiming you can tame a gator, in my mind there are no myths. It is all possible, it is all true, the things you have heard have all happened; no wait, they are probably still happening as I type! Alligators.....sheesh.

You see, when I am in Florida, my mind is constantly on alligators. It is my answer for just about anything.

Friend 1: Hey, ya wanna go skiing this weekend on the lake?
Me: Um, hello? Alligators!

Friend 2: I went air boating this weekend with my uncle.
Me: You mean, with the Alligators.

Friend 3: I want to take you deep sea fishing.
Me: Sharks....AND Gators. (Ok, this might be pushing it a little. But only a little. It is Florida after all and strange things seem to happen there.)

Cousin: Went to coach the swim team and guess what I had to drag out of the pool?
Me: An alligator. (True story, he really did.)

So, you don't want to drive too close to me on the highways in FL because my eyes sometimes wander from the road as I glance to see if there are any gators in the swampy areas, or lakes, or retention ponds. You just never know. I almost missed seeing a beautiful American Bald Eagle fly right over my car the other day because I was trying to determine if the log I saw was really a gator in disguise. (It wasn't, but it could have been!)

All that said, here are my answers to SpaceCoast Living where they had written these facts on the American Alligator. They start off with a little alligator history:

The American Alligator is an unusual success story of a species that came back from the brink of extinction to a species that is now thriving in the Southeastern United States.

Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried we might lose the flesh eating monsters! Seriously, I won't take the time to argue the definition of success story, but all I know is WE DID THIS! We dumb humans decided we couldn't live without Alligators and now they are THRIVING....really and truly. It does make you wonder if Darwin was wrong. How did we ever make it as a species when we are constantly saving the creatures that CAN EAT US?!

Myth 1: Alligators will eat humans.
Fact: Although rare, alligators are opportunistic eaters.

Well, DUH! What about that mouth would make you think otherwise?

Picture of a stuffed gator at a rest station in North Florida.

Myth 2: Alligators will grow to over 20 feet in length.
Fiction: The largest alligator ever claimed to be in existence was 19.8 feet.

Oh, 19.8 feet. That makes it SOOO much better. For a minute there I thought we REALLY had something to worry about....seriously, a few inches from 20 feet long. Think about it. SO WHAT IF NO 20 FOOTERS HAVE EVER BEEN FOUND? Alligators. Sheesh.

This one was only about 10 feet....pretty sure it could still eat you.

Myth 3: Alligators will eat anything in their path.

Fiction: Alligators, especially healthy ones can go months between meals....

Oh, ok. Let's be friends and just hope that they ate yesterday. A little Gator Roulette is always fun. Hello? Why would you even give people the idea that they might be able to get close to one, so long as he isn't hungry....I'm mean, it is Florida and people's brains are a little sun-fried....they might just take up that challenge!

Myth 4: Alligators cannot run from side to side.
Fact: Gators can only run in a straight line so if one starts chasing you, run in a zigzag pattern.

WHAT? ALLIGATORS WILL CHASE YOU????

Actually, this is a well-known fact to all children growing up in Florida. They teach it right along with tying shoes and not sticking fingers in electrical outlets and staying out of the shower in a thunder storm. I have known this for as long as I can remember. I have even had nightmares about being chased by alligators....more than once...in my adult life. (Yes, I have alligator dreams frequently, maybe once a month, even still....) Seriously. Zig zag. Don't forget! (And just so you non-natives know, alligators can also jump REALLY. REALLY. HIGH! I wonder why this writer decided to leave that little fact out? Seems like it might be important, unless of course, he's trying to weed out the riffraff...)

Myth 5: Gators are only found in freshwater.
Fiction: Gators are mostly found in freshwater, however....

"Mostly!" and "However...." Need I say more? Seriously, they sometimes are found on the beaches because they get swept out in the tide at the inlets. These big buggers are no laughing matter. You can't even swim at the beach in safety. If the sharks or jellies don't get you, who knows, there could be a 19.8 foot gator waiting. But don't worry, at least he's not 20 feet and can only run straight. (You just better pray he ate a shark on his way out to sea, mate.)

Myth 6: Alligators will not stay submerged underwater for long periods of time.
Fiction: Alligators can stay submerged for several hours....

Really, does this even matter? Here's a little clue: if you are going to Florida, just assume that there are gators in any and every body of water. Thriving. Hiding. Waiting for their next meal. It could be you. Beware. I warned you.

Or better yet, skip going south and come to MN where nothing in our lakes will eat you. And you can drive on them half the year. For the fun of it. Because, frozen lakes are totally awesome.....(Hey, at least there aren't alligators!)

Free Range Chicken Poop

2011-08-07T19:50:00.000-07:00

Jamie decided if she were to make a lip balm it would have to be called Chicken Poop™, inspired by her grandpa's sense of humor. If one was to complain of dry lips he'd say, "put some chicken poop on your lips so you won't lick 'em". --- from the company Simone Chickenbone, Natural Put-Ons

A dear friend sent me a link to this chicken poop lip balm recently saying it made her think of me (ahhh, so truly, truly flattering, really...) and then just last week my husband was on a guy's trip and saw the same product in some store so of course he had to text me a picture of the logo. I know, I know, he's a romantic, what can I say?! But that's how this story rolls I suppose. I try not to read too much into these things but when twice in one month I have several people mention they thought of me when they saw a product called Free Range Chicken Poop, I do start to wonder: What does that say about me? And worse, what does it say about me that I get all giddy about it?!

Seriously, do you ever feel like you could stand in for Jeff Foxworthy?

"You might be a redneck if.....someone sees a product labeled Chicken Poop and the first person they think of is YOU."

Oh well, if the poop fits.....just don't tell Kurt. I think I still have him convinced that I am a sweet, young debutante....a true Southern Belle....a, hey, why are you laughing? Surely the Graceful Chicken could....ok, no, I couldn't.

At any rate, I've decided this must be a sign that I need to host another Graceful Like a Chicken contest. Please, please, sit back down. I know you are super excited but no need to jump out of your britches. Here it is:

One lucky reader will win a sampling of Simone Chickenbone products, curtesy of moi. To enter, add a comment to this blog post telling me what you'd rather see 31 straight days of on this blog:
a) memories
b) personal poetry
c) random thoughts
d) a topic of a serious nature (i.e. forgiveness, happiness, love, grace, etc.)
e) you don't want 31 straight days of ANYTHING!

Winner will be chosen at random (your name will be in a hat) and notified via email. Deadline to enter is Sunday, August 14, 2011. For my email subscribers, you need to go to the website to post a comment. Click on the title of the blog post (Free Range Chicken Poop) that is within the email. Scroll down to the bottom of the post and hit the "Post a Comment" tab. It's that simple. Good luck! :)

The Last Baptism

2011-08-02T20:42:00.000-07:00

I figure if Jesus can have a last supper, certainly we can have a last baptism.

Sunday we had the joy of gathering our family and close friends at my grandma's church in Lakeland, FL, to have our two youngest baptized. It is the same church Lily was baptized in a few years back....the same church my parents were married in a century or so ago (hee hee, sorry guys) and our crew just about doubled the summer congregation.

Having never had a talking child baptized before, I spent a little time with Liam in the few days beforehand rehearsing the words and the act of placing water on his head. I was a wee bit concerned because every time I'd tell him he'd be baptized "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen" he'd eagerly say: "and the moon?"

I figured if he said that in the moment it would create a memorable one so I certainly didn't fret over it. And when his moment came, he smiled as if he was having the time of his life....like all the world was his stage, or at least this particular church and it went smashingly well. I am surprised he didn't take a bow and thank his "audience" actually. Solomon, having just woken up from a nap, sang and cooed the entire service, especially in the silence, or should I say when it was supposed to be silent since he pretty much filled the entire void.

At any rate, Liam's true colors shined through this weekend. He made many new fans out of family members we don't see often enough, the most notable being my new brother-in-law who told me at the party: "I love Liam. He's totally insane."

Having spent the morning in utter chaos and still feeling rather stressed, I took exception with the comment and said, "He's not insane. He just smiles a lot and is really happy." About that time Liam caught our eyes as he went spinning by in circles with his smiling head twirling quickly around as if he were trying to recreate that sick feeling you get when you step out of a Gravitron or some other crazy amusement park ride.

"Ok, you got me there," I admitted, laughing. "He might be a little crazy."

When the party was over and we found a calm, quiet moment at my Grandma's house, I called Liam over to where I was sitting with my grandmother so that he could open his little present from her. (The tradition is for her to buy each of the grandbabies a sterling silver cup while my aunts get them a sterling spoon.) He immediately unwrapped the two jewelry store boxes and said "Yay, boxes!" before he put them down and turned to play with something else.

"Liam, you have to open the boxes to see what's in them silly," I said.

He came back and opened the first little flat box which contained a spoon wrapped in tissues. He only saw the paper.

"Yay! Tissues!" he said clapping his little hands excitedly: "YAAAAAY!"

For all of you who have never believed me when I have told you my young children need nothing more than wrapped boxes....I stand corrected: you were right. The joy he got from thinking he was getting tissues in that box was well worth putting a little paper inside!

Solomon and Liam

Our Lovely Hostess GiGi (My Grandma with Solly)

The Godparents

It's my party and I'll sleep if I want to....

Why there should only be one camera at any given photo op

The boys with my uncle who did the baptizing

Cheap Chicken Wine: A Review

2011-07-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

"At the turn of the 20th century, HRM (His Royal Majesty) Rex Goliath was the treasured attraction of a Texas circus. People came from far and wide to behold the 47 lb. bird, billed as the “World’s Largest Rooster.”" --from Rex Goliath website

Kurt and I have never been big drinkers. But recently (and by recent I mean with the addition of a fifth child) we have been a little more frequent in our partaking. This has been enhanced by having found Rex Goliath.

Now, a friend had mentioned Rex to me a year or so ago, right after I had run across him in a store and made a mental note to try him out one day. And of course, I was pregnant and so had to put it on a back burner until after Solomon came along. Fairly soon after his birth, I went through a few months of searching: searching for the best "cheap" bottle of wine. I figured if I could find the best bottle of wine for under $8, we could afford to have a glass or two here and there.

Bottle after bottle, Kurt and I sipped. Some were REALLY bad, meant only for those who shouldn't be drinking it anyway, others were really REALLY bad, some just semi-bad and still others, drinkable. And then I happened to pick up three bottles of Rex Goliath.

They happened to be on sale that day for $3.99 a piece. No, I am not kidding. (Usually they run $5.99 at our store.) So, we first tried the Cabernet, which is typically my favorite. It lacked body. Actually, it tasted sort of like wine-flavored water....or what I imagine a zero-calorie wine-water would taste like. (Can you imagine? Sobe Life Water, Red Wine Flavored.) Anyway, it wasn't terrific. (But we dutifully drank it anyway.) A few weeks later, I took the Shiraz over to a friend's house. Again, nothing to write home about (but it didn't go unfinished either.)

Finally, when hope in the sanctity of Rex Goliath chicken wine was all but gone, we tried their newest variety: Free Range Red (a red blend).

Kurt has not enjoyed another wine since....really and truly. I pulled out this fabulous Sebastiani Cabernet for a dinner party at our house and he wouldn't drink it. He took one sip and then opened up more Free Range Red. What can I say, he's hooked! And rightfully so. For a bottle of cheap wine, it is pretty terrific. I am not a connoisseur by any stretch. I can't tell you what the flavors "hint" of or why we like it. All I know is, we have bought more Rex Goliath Free Range Red over the last few months than all other alcohol combined in the previous 10 years of our marriage. Now, I can't promise you that this isn't saying as much about having five children as it is about the particular wine, but, we have really enjoyed it....so much so that I was hoping to do a free wine giveaway....but apparently it is not legal. Sorry!

Anyway, I figure, any wine with a 47lb rooster mascot is the perfect wine. Go give it a try and let me know what you think!

B.Y.O.B.: Safe Arrivals

2011-07-25T15:20:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

After two days, and over 1600 miles in the car with all five kids and one grandmother, we finally arrived at my childhood home in Florida. Phew!

We joke that we are escaping the midwestern heat....but alas, it seems we must have missed that boat. On the bright side...the really hot, Florida sun bright side.....we have unlimited free "sauna time" here! (You know, assuming you like your saunas to include a gazillion mosquitoes! Hey, it's like relaxation and exercise all in one!) But the drive was beautiful; the kids, fantastic (if you look past the last longest-hour- and-a-half-ever anyway); and the pool was ready, warm and waiting....along with friends, family, seafood, a few baby peacocks and perhaps a roach or two....(ick).

What kind of blessings have made your life a little more beautiful this week???

p.s. This is not a rhetorical question.....I really want to know!

Coming Up for Air

2011-07-18T21:24:00.000-07:00

GASP! Sputter, sputter, cough.

Ok, so when I originally began this blog, my goal was to post every day, six days a week. I realized pretty quickly that that was not feasible, a foolish idea at best. So I set my posting goal at three to four posts a week; after all, a lot goes on in a family with lots of kids and let's face it, I have a lot to say. But, not too terribly long into that plan, I realized it wasn't going to happen and so I set my goal at two posts a week. I really strived to pay attention to all the details of our family life in order to come up with what I hoped were two good weekly posts. And I really kicked myself when I didn't meet my own expectations. This goal setting thing went on quite a while until I finally caved and set a mostly realistic goal of one post a week. Happy now Goal-Eating-Monster? (It just doesn't know when to stop!)

That was 300 posts ago. The Graceful Chicken blog has been in existence now a little over 3 years. So I figure, if you average it out I am actually doing pretty darn well keeping up with, even exceeding the one post a week goal. And then....and then these last few weeks hit......sheesh....you'd think I had walked out on the writing hobby altogether!

I can't seem to recall what I ate for breakfast any given day, much less what happened the rest of it. It is like we awake each morning with grand plans of summer fun, adventure and relaxation (with a little clean up along the way) and when we arrive at our destination (bed) each evening, we have a brief, peaceful moment in which to ask ourselves: what on God's great Earth just happened?

And you have to know things have gotten rough when we are looking forward to getting down to Florida at the end of the week so that we can get out of this heat! Talk about crazy! Thank goodness we had to replace our entire air conditioning and furnace combo last week as we actually had a cool house to hide in today. (I can also get excited about spending $36 on two bottles of wine just so that I can send in for a $5 rebate....I'm THAT good with home economics math! Matter of fact, just yesterday I convinced myself that buying all THREE of the bathing suits I couldn't decide between would actually be a good deal in the long run because I wouldn't wear them out as quickly....really, I'm good like that.)

Anyway, as the days turned into weeks turned into a month and not a decent blog post was written, or at least not finished, I started getting so anxious about it that I had to write something, anything, to post that wasn't just a B.Y.O.B. I have a handful of half-written posts: my sister's wedding in New York for example, just sitting there, waiting for me to return. But, no, I needed to start fresh, bore you with something mundane like Aidan explaining to Lily recently that there was no such thing as magic:

"Lily, there is no such thing as magic," he told her after she had mentioned that her friend could do magic. "The only person who can do magic is Santa......oh yeah, and the Easter Bunny, oh and the Tooth Fairy, and maybe the Leprechaun. And GOD. I mean, God can do magic." And he was so know-it-all sure of himself, I just smiled. But I couldn't help but spur him on a little.

"Aidan, God doesn't do magic," I said, just for clarification.

"Well, it's not magic but God could call what He does magic if He wanted to, I mean, He is God after all and He can do whatever He wants," Aidan told me. I'm pretty sure he wants to be God when he grows up, you know, if the opportunity should ever arise.

Anyway, I also learned that it is an inherently bad idea to take four kids to IKEA on a Saturday morning. I learned this last Saturday when a recently potty-trained Liam, having already been to the bathroom twice in the last ten minutes, sat himself down in the middle of the extremely busy walkway, took his shoes off, pulled off his pants, and started pulling down his underwear screaming "POTTY, POTTY" so that everyone would know that he needed to go to the bathroom and his terrible mother wasn't taking him, again. And of course, when I finally got him there, half undressed, still screaming bloody-potty, he calmed down, looked at me and smiled: "Me want cookie," he said. And no, he didn't go.

He's lucky I didn't leave him there.

Cookie. Ffffffffffffffffffffff.

The thing is, in the last few weeks, so much has happened I can hardly process it all. There were funny things like Liam begging for a shot at the doctor's office because Lily got one at her last well-visit: "Me too? On my arm?" he asked so sincerely I almost believed it. And there were some not so wonderful moments, you know a gagging kid here or there, Liam puking at the pool after inhaling water (I was alone with all 5 kids as I dragged him out of the water just in time to miss the pool...not our best moment....), an ultrasound to check out a suspicious lump (thankfully benign), and the list goes on and on. I am guessing the kids are just swimming in the delight of the chaos, wondering what will happen next, who's will will break, which parent will fly off the deep end and how will they land. And they are onto us I think. They keep asking me for things, as if all of a sudden my position on spontaneous purchases to spoil the kids has changed. Just the other day Madeline and Lily ganged up on me, asking if I would buy them Rollerblades. I told them they could put them on their Christmas list (my usual response) but that we simply didn't have the extra money to buy them right now.

A few hours later, Madeline asked Kurt and me if we could buy a lake house. Rollerblades? Nope, can't afford it, but sure we can buy another home! (She must get her money-math skills from me, poor thing.)

All this is to say, we are still here, just really busy. Next up, Florida. Perhaps in the cool climate down there I'll have the energy and time to write more. Or not. But please know, I think of you readers often and pray that your summer is nothing like ours. :)

B.Y.O.B.

2011-07-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessings: Garden Style

After spending 12 or so hours in a car driving home from our wonderful, relaxing week in PA with Kurt's side of the family, we found that the weather had finally taken a turn toward summer here in MN. And with it, the garden morphed into a deer-rabbit-mouse paradise (sorry watermelon plants....the deer really like you apparently!) While I realize mustard greens are not supposed to be taller than my children, it was really fun to see the change that took place in only one week. (The Broccoli had sprouted some lovely bouquets as well.)

And so the blessing of the veggies has begun: we left without a single zucchini on our plants and when we returned, we found these....again, oversized but how cool is that! Just One week!

And what's even better, these came off the plant I started from seed that I was certain was going to die because the stem hollowed out below the leaves before it was fully established. I still have no idea how it made it. But, apparently it is doing just fine! Zucchini parmesan here we come! Mmmmmmm!

Are you still counting your blessings? What has surprised or uplifted your spirits this week?

B.Y.O.B.

2011-07-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Freedom: to relax.....to enjoy....to share.....

What blessings does 4th of July bring for your family?

B.Y.O.B.

2011-06-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Girl's Night in, a joyful VBS, a lifted stress, date night, and homegrown peonies.

What blessings have crossed your path this week?

Walking With God, A Sermon

2011-06-26T10:40:00.000-07:00

Some time ago, I was asked to lead worship for our church's Vacation Bible School Sunday, which was today. Since I had nothing else going on in my life (like having five kids home for summer vacation, planning Lily's Surprise Birthday Party and the neighborhood block party, fighting a school board over a teacher's contract, having a year's worth of Thank You cards to write and as many baby/wedding gifts to buy and send, you know, little things....lots and lots of them....) I was happy to oblige.

The week? Fantastic. The theme? Noah's Ark. The Sermon????? Yes, I wrote and delivered a sermon. While I can't say for sure how it went for everyone else and I admit I had to resist the urge to pull out the southern-style-evangilizing-preacher-man in me, hee hee hee, it felt pretty darn natural, as if I were writing for you guys and then actually delivering the post to you personally, albeit a little too fast. Anyway, below is what I wrote for my first attempt at filling the pulpit. This is also the reason you haven't seen any blog posts recently....apparently it takes all the writing energy I can muster (as well as any cleaning energy too, sorry Kurt!) to lead a church for an hour. ;)

Walking With God

Now I must confess, I have been critiquing sermons for decades. When I was a child, I used to compare various preachers with different composers depending on how long they went on past what seemed like a reasonable stopping point. And apparently my ego was bigger than my britches because I had always thought, if given the opportunity, it would be a piece of cake to write and deliver a good sermon. After all, both my grandfathers, and three out of four uncles, were ministers, surely it’s in the blood, right?

That's what I thought until a few weeks back when Rev. Ken asked if I would put together and run the VBS service. He told me I could organize it however I pleased but that if there was to be a sermon, I was the one who would have to preach it. And apparently I missed the word “if” because I immediately jumped to:

What? Why would anyone want to listen to anything I have to say? Certainly there are plenty of people in this church far more qualified for this job. He assured me it would be a piece of cake, “After all, Karen," he said, "it’s only Noah.”

Only Noah? Now, just a minute. I have read the story of Noah many times and although we have this beautiful, almost Disneyfied children’s version that is so fitting for VBS, that is not quite the entire story. You see, we gloss over some of the finer details. I’d even go as far to say that the whole story, starting in the beginning, with humanity disappointing God, pushing him to his breaking point, you know, the point where he decides to BLOT OUT ALL OF CREATION, remember that part? Well, that is downright scary if you ask me. This is what has been tossing and turning in my head for a few weeks: How to preach a sermon on Noah that stays true to the story without giving all of our children (and perhaps a few of us adults) nightmares!

So, I sat down one morning to read and reread Gensis 6-9. I was filled with questions and decided to sit on it for a little while until one night, around 2:00 in the morning, I sat bolt upright in my bed and thought, “What have I agreed to this time?! What was I thinking?” and then another question came to me, “And what does it mean to walk with God anyway?”

And so I prayed. I prayed that God would guide my thoughts and that God would fill my heart with His goodness and word so that I would know where to take Noah. But I kept coming back to the same question: What does it mean to walk with God? Do I walk with God? Because sometimes it certainly doesn’t feel like it. And you can ask my husband, I certainly don't act like it sometimes either!

What does it mean to walk with God: You know, we talked a lot about this with the kids this week at VBS. When asked what does it mean to walk with God, they had some great answers: to follow Jesus, to be good, to share, be nice and then of course there were a few conversations that veared into raccoons and African ball pythons……

In short walking with God means doing what God intends for us to do, not what I want, or my friends want or society wants but what God wants. Keeping God central to our lives while we live out His will for us. It means that when we awake in the middle of the night struggling with something, whether that be big or small, that we take the time to pray, to talk to God, asking Him what He wants us to say, or do; how God wants us to act in the various circumstances of our lives.

So there I was, two o’clock in the morning, attempting to walk with God. And I asked, "God, what do you want me to say to my friends at Minnetonka United Methodist?" Oddly, it remained very, very quiet. And with five kids in the house even at 2:00 in the morning, silence is very odd indeed! Perhaps I should have taken that as a hint because there was no sudden answer, no thundering voice, or tiny whisper; no light bulb going off in my head, no big A-ha. I felt truly alone.

But then I am guessing even Noah himself at times felt alone. While we know he walked with God and by all accounts, he had pretty clear instructions about what was coming and what he needed to do, I can only imagine that if the future of the world rested on my shoulders, if all of creation were counting on me and they didn't even know it, if I were building a massive boat in the middle of a desert most likely being mocked all the while, if I were Noah and about to face world wide devastation, and no one would listen to me, I am guessing I would feel awfully alone. And don’t we all feel that way at times? Don't you sometimes feel alone? You can be in a room crowded full of people, full of friends and family even, but if you have just been handed a devastating diagnosis, or lost a job, or a loved one, or are in the midst of a struggling or broken relationship; if you are being bullied at school or at work; when the stress you carry each and every day dwarfs that of building of an ark, you are likely to feel very much alone.

Actually, I’m not sure what I was expecting sitting there awake at two o'clock in the morning, but as I sat there, unable to sleep and a wee bit stressed over the thought of standing here before you today, my baby stirred in his crib and I suddenly remembered, I wasn’t alone. And that's when it hit me: Noah walked with God. Noah wasn’t alone.

And fortunately for us, although there is a flood a’comin’ (and there is always a flood coming) although life is full of storms, and it may even rain for 40 days and 40 nights and we may feel as if we are all alone on that boat, a boat we’re not sure is even going to stay a float and although we might feel like getting down on our knees, begging to know when this storm will come to pass, although we might find ourselves there, talking to God, even angry and desperate to GET OFF THE BOAT, we are lucky because God has made his covenant with us. And not only has he set his rainbow in the storm clouds of our life but he has sent us a guide, a teacher, a friend to walk along the road with us, to hold us up when we feel like giving up, to hold us tight when we’ve lost our grip and to hold us together when everything seems to be falling apart. And no, I am not talking about my good friend Lisa, though she’s pretty great, or your brother John, or your mom or dad or spouse. I’m talking about God loving us so much that even though we have blundered time and again and even though we are broken and even though we can’t quite get it all together, He loves us so much that He sent His Son to act as our ark, and bring us to safety.

Friends, we as God’s children have been given a lifeboat. God has remembered us; Just as He remembered Noah, God the creator of all things great and small, has remembered us: He has remembered you _____ and you _____ and you _____ and He has sent us His son so that we may truly live. You see, God is not in the business of forgetting His creation. And I believe God’s intention for us is that we will remember Him as He has remembered us and that we will turn to Him, in good times and bad, and seek out His will for us. That we, like Noah, will walk with God for we, like Noah, HAVE found favor in His eyes. That we, like Noah will be blameless, because we, like Noah will do all God commands: We will love God with all our hearts, souls and minds and we will love our neighbors; our friends and family, and yes even our enemies and in doing so we will prepare our own lives, we will conduct our own lives in such a way that our children will know God and that our children will find themselves held in God’s ark through the storms that come up in their lives. Noah may have built the original ark but you and I must continue to build, we must build, to bring all God’s children into relationship with Him.

And when we walk with God, we are ready when He calls. When we walk with God, we prepare ourselves to be called and yes we can expect to be called, called to build something of enormous proportions: perhaps God's Kingdom here on Earth.

The ark Noah built may have been large; it may have taken a lifetime to build and the storm may have been treacherous but Noah was definitely not alone and neither are we. He couldn’t have done it alone, and neither can we.

Friends, I couldn’t even put four pieces of lumber together by myself to build my kids a sandbox, much less build a boat the size of 4 football fields, or a Kingdom fit for God. Yet God is telling me I have to build, He’s telling us we have to help build His Kingdom right here on Earth, and lucky for us, just as God was in control of the building way back then, He still is now.

I have a friend who told me recently that he wasn’t sure in those first couple of years of marriage that he and his wife would make it. He struggled with what they call "anger management issues"; he had quite a hot head and a very short fuse and it lead him and his wife onto some pretty rocky grounds. He went on to say, 15 years and 4 children later, “Thank goodness we have the Bible for I don’t know how we would have figured it out without God’s help.” What a witness to the power of walking with God! Thank goodness we have the Bible. Thank goodness we are not alone. Thank goodness we have a loving and forgiving God who not only wants to be in relationship with us but who also provides guidance so we know how to find Him. So that we know how to keep walking with Him even when we are on rocky ground, even in stormy weather. God calls us into relationship and instead of leaving us stranded in the flood waters, He offers us a way to keep a float, our very own ark. Thank goodness. Thank God.

Have a wonderful week!

B.Y.O.B.

2011-06-19T21:05:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing:

It'd be hard to pass up the opportunity to thank all the fathers out there. We have much to be thankful for this last week: Lily's birthday (always a hit), a fantastic block party that got rained out right into our home, a timely loan of a trailer so that we could finally get rid of the extra garage door motor thingamajig....

But, this week, we honor pops. Thanks Dad, Lupo, Chris, Marv, Mr. Richard (and the list goes on and on) And of course, I can't forget Kurt! After all, without him, there'd be no Lily to get our laughs from! :)

What blessing did you come across this week?

B.Y.O.B.

2011-06-13T07:22:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Running into random people you know at just the right time:

This week I took my kids to the park, got there and realized Liam had peed through his diaper. I had no extra clothes on hand though. When I was trying to get his new diaper on, a little girl from our church ran up to say hi. I sent her back to her dad to ask if he had an extra pair of little boy pants. He did. Problem solved!

The next day, I had a make-up appointment for Liam at his speech therapist's office. When we arrived, a friend whom I needed to talk to was sitting in the waiting room. Woo hoo for timing!

Yesterday, the kids and I skipped church (shhhhhh, don't tell!) because we were running half an hour late. We went to the local coffee house instead and when we were pulling into the parking lot, our friend Marv was pulling in as well. The kids were ecstatic and we had a very nice coffee time together (although I do believe I need to work with the kids on their inside voices when they are excited, which seems to be all the time!)

Three cheers for random encounters!

Where have you been blessed with good timing lately?

Lily's Birthday Wish

2011-06-10T19:58:00.000-07:00

All her grandparents have been asking me what Lily wants for her upcoming birthday. I finally sat down with her to ask her.

Me: "Lily, what do you want for your birthday?"

Lily, without any hesitation at all: "Some antennae......and a stinger."

Ok, sure, that's exactly what I was thinking.....oh wait, no, it wasn't. Because seriously? What kid asks for a stinger?

Me: "Seriously Lily, if you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

Lily: "Well, I might want a Troy Polamalu costume, too. I think I'd really like that."

Trust me when I say, the only thing she needs to make herself more like Troy Polamalu, the strong safety for the Pittsburgh Steelers, is a big wig.....outside of that, she's pretty much just like him. You know, if you compare him to the Tasmanian Devil. With some antennae....and a stinger.

A Little Behind

2011-06-05T16:30:00.000-07:00

Ever been so far behind that you throw your hands in the air and think maybe it is just best if you start fresh...I mean, completely and totally walk away from the stuff that isn't done and just move forward?

That has been my life these last few weeks. My hands are up as I figure out if it is possible to simply wipe the slate clean and begin again (no). If only the house would go along with the reboot and find itself miraculously put back together again (it won't). Alas, that will be on my to-do list starting around 4 p.m. tomorrow, seeing as how, the day is mostly booked up until then (that was yesterday and now it is the day after....argh!). And why on earth are there over 1500 emails sitting in my in-box? The cyber-clutter is as bad as the paper stacking up in my kitchen. Ack! Anyone else ever feel this way??? Obviously this is a sign that it is time to clear up and clean out. And just in time too, for summer vacation is right around the corner! Woo hoo! Now, Solomon, go self-entertain for the next few days while I get this sorted out! Hmmm, why didn't that work?

At any rate, I have been trying to figure out how to post the four partially written blog posts sitting on deck without 1) finishing them and 2)....well, actually there's just one. I realized today I had only half finished the post on my New York trip from THREE WEEKS ago and I already had a post or two half written before that....making me feel like perhaps I oughta just jump ship now before I go down with the boat....or maybe the solution is to actually hit the "edit post" tab rather than the "new post" tab and finish what I have started. Or find my delete button and actually use it as needed! I am certain there must be a support group for this. And a reality show.

Speaking of, my birthday was Tuesday and I must say, had I not known better, I'd've sworn I was being filmed by some deranged reality show director. The day really started the night before while I was saying bedtime prayers with the girls. I glanced over and noticed Little Dot's time in our house had expired. (Didn't I call this one? Only, she lasted probably a week longer than I would have thought...Go Dot!)

"Madeline, your fish is dead," I announced, so coldly I appeared to be vying for this year's Mommy-Dearest award. She looked at me suspiciously. I think she thought I was kidding. "Look, it is floating belly up. I'm sorry. Let's take it to it's bathroom burial," I said, condolences lagging much too far behind the moment...but hey, I did get an "I'm sorry" in there, right? Apparently I missed compassion day in Mommy-School. I picked up the fish bowl and the girls followed me to the bathroom. Kurt walked in as I told Madeline, "Your fish, you flush," and dumped the fish into the toilet while saying a few words about her "little dot" of time with us. Madeline flushed the toilet and we watched Little Dot disappear. I took the bowl, changed the water and put it back in the girls room, telling them we could get a new fish the next day.

A few minutes later, Kurt and I heard Lily sobbing upstairs. And, because I also failed Sympathy Methods 101 in school, the only thing I thought to say was, "It's okay Lily. We can get a new fish tomorrow." This only increased the volume and duration of her sobs. I imagined her at my untimely funeral (God forbid) and Kurt telling her, "It's okay Lily, we can get you a new mommy tomorrow." Seeing that maybe I was not being as nurturing as I should be, I did a 180 and began telling her it's okay to be sad when you lose something you love. Little Dot was a good fish. We will all miss her (a half truth at best) and other such gentler things. It didn't make any difference. We assured her she could pick out and name the new fish, which she seemed happy about but kept crying anyway. I realized it didn't matter what I said. "Do you want to read a book?" I finally asked.

Tears miraculously dried up and the dead fish was all but forgotten as she eagerly pulled out a Clifford book. Riiiiight. She must get her grieving skills from the same place I got my sympathy skills. Thus began my birthday, a little early.

At around 4 a.m. I rolled over to pick up the baby from the bassinet and pulled my back out. Irritated, I tried to shrug it off as a symptom of getting older but then, my alarm clock didn't go off two hours later....well, technically it did but somehow the volume was turned off so it didn't actually do anything alarming. And then I realized oh, it's not that I am getting older, it's just that it is my birthday and Graceful Chickens have birthdays Graceful Chicken style.

We were then in a rush to get out the door and I must admit, I was super disappointed I didn't have time to go get my free birthday coffee at the local coffee shop like I had planned. After hurrying through the morning, I got the older kids to the bus stop just in the nick of time and took the younger kids to Liam's speech appointment only slightly behind schedule. As I was getting Solomon out of the car though, I missed the step to the curb and fell to the ground in a heap, catching the baby in his car seat on the way. Truly a scene I must say and one of those unexpected blessings as well because at some point in that fall my back shifted back into place. Yeeee-Haw! What a start!

The speech therapist, whom we love, didn't quite finish up early like I had requested but I rushed to the coffee house afterward to get my free LARGE drink before heading back to a play date I was hosting in which I rudely spent the first ten minutes cleaning up from breakfast and the last twenty entertaining a potty training Liam in the bathroom (during which he didn't actually go) while feeding Solomon at the same time. After sending our friends home, we were off again to retrieve Madeline and Matt, the carpool buddy, from school. Hyped up on caffeine because I had forgotten to tell the coffee shop I wanted a DECAF iced coffee, I got Matt home and was all but shaking by the time we got back to our house for lunch. At that point, Marv came by, bearing the gift of a scrumptious watermelon with a candle in it (he even lit it for me!) and we took him out back to show him his wonderful sand box all filled with sand and toys. Unfortunately, we had to rush him away as well because we had a gym appointment at 1 p.m. (the infant room requires a reservation). I was not about to miss the chance at working off the coffee drink and de-stressing from what seemed to be a crazy sort of day. Which was only half over.

After a great workout with a friend, I was back to the grind. Shower, Aidan pick-up, pizza ordering (since Kurt had inadvertently taken in the left overs I had been planning on heating up for dinner) and off to the pet store where Lily picked out a nice, friendly little female beta fish. Apparently the goldfish are only 29 cents for a reason. While other people we know seem to have no problem keeping them alive, the pet store owner suggested we go a different route. I don't know why we need another fish; after all, how could we possibly replace good ol' Little Dot? I do hear my folks chuckling though....

When we arrived at the pizza place, they told us their electricity had gone out. No pizza. Of course. But now you just have to laugh, right? I mean, go figure! Costco to the rescue. Kurt got us a big pizza (the only size they sell) and back home we went to celebrate before running off to Madeline's soccer game. The day ended well. Cake fixes everything don't ya think? That and the huge surprise gift of a new laptop computer! Woo hoo! I knew my computer was getting old when some of the letters started disappearing slightly, and the up arrow simply doesn't work and I have to convert every document that comes in because I have OLD software. But I had no idea Kurt was going to replace it for me! Now, if only I could get my act together and get the new one set up before technology advances again. Aaaaah! Too late!

Anyway, here is the picture of the kids and my cake and some birthday flowers that arrived just at the right time to set things straight again! (You might recognize it as my B.Y.O.B. picture but I thought it was good enough to share twice. After all, this represents what all 34 years of my life have lead up to: Kids, Cake, and Flowers...it's enough to make anyone happy....and perhaps a little wrinkly....and grey, but who's counting?)

And if you think my birthday ended there, you are sadly mistaken because it's the weekend now and it is eighty degrees....IN OUR HOUSE! Air conditioner. Broken. Gads! Meeeelting are we......

I think I'll just go now....and stick my head in the refrigerator.....perhaps I'll eat some left over cake while there...of course, then I won't be just a little behind....hee hee hee.

B.Y.O.B.

2011-06-05T13:17:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Warm Birthday Wishes. And my 5 biggest blessings to celebrate with. And let's not forget the guy who remembered the most important part: CAKE. Thanks Kurt!

What blessings can you celebrate this week?

Happy Memorial Day!

2011-05-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

We are thankful for all those who have served our country.....and for sand.

This was about the point at which Kurt asked: "So, how do we get rid of a sandbox once we no longer need it?"

Hmmmm, hadn't thought that far ahead actually. But hopefully that is many, many years down the road.

B.Y.O.B.

2011-05-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

Bring Your Own Blessing

Of course there is "the box" which was partially converted into the Sand Box today.....and Marv's work in putting it together. Those are huge.

But I also have to mention a little story from yesterday. Solomon and I were at the grocery store later in the evening and he started to get very fussy, quite unlike him but not too unexpected at that time of night. Anyway, he had been riding in his car seat, inside the cart, and I ended up needing to take him out to hold him while I loaded everything onto the belt at the check-out line, leaving me only one hand to use to bag the groceries. Reaching for what I needed was certainly cumbersome with him in tow and really, it was a struggle. (For those of you out of state, we bag our own groceries here depending on what store you are at.) Not too long into the scene, a young guy, who was with his wife and child, had apparently seen my predicament and he came over and asked if he could please bag the groceries for me. Usually I would thank him kindly and say I was okay (thanks but no thanks) but it seemed that he genuinely wanted to help and in that instance, I truthfully needed it. So, I gratefully stepped aside and finished up the check-out process. It was such a warm moment, that offering of help.

Smiling as I left the store, it occurred to me that it is these random acts of kindness, whether from friends or complete strangers, that so often prove how much goodness there is in the world. So often we are consumed by media images of hatred and evil and brokenness but if we look around, we are also ever surrounded by pure, wholesome goodness. That's such a blessing.

Where have you found such goodness this week?

Graceful Like a Chicken

Honest Chickens

Beating a Dead Horse (AKA: Yippee! Someone Left the Lock Open!)

In the Wake of Solomon

I'm Thinking of An Animal

21 Days of Bliss

The Solomonster

Happy Hanukkah!

This Year's Tree

The Importance of Competence

Sunday's Reminder: Where is grace?

The Encourager

The Differences

Seven Years Ago Today, Continued

Seven Years Ago Today

Words Can Never Hurt Me....Usually...

Happy Halloween!

Just for a Day

Profile of a Runner

The Monster Dash

Our Voices

Must be in the Blood

Movin'...

B.Y.O.B.: It's Over (the Mini-Series)

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 5, The End....Actually, It's Just The Beginning!

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 4 (Almost Done)

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 3

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 2

Doing the Right Thing(s): Part 1

Doing the Right Thing(s)

You Know What They Say....

B.Y.O.B. Half Way Done

Graceful Like a Chicken: It's Biblical

Fixing Chicken Mistakes

The Problem With Growing Up in FL

Choices

The Patrol (or How to Make a Football Player)

Long Overdue: My Sister's Wedding

(Day 10) B.Y.O.B.: YOU!

Wrestling with God

Left Hand Descending

Correction: The Who

The Wrong Generation

More Gator Stories

It's All Relative

Lily's Latest

Learning From (someone else's) Experience

B.Y.O.B.: Pick Your Own

Warning: An Entire Month of Graceful Chicken Starts.....

B.Y.O.B.

Chicken Prayers

B.Y.O.B.: Sweet, Fleeting Moments

School: Week 1

Toilet Paper Chicken

As We Remember: September 11

In the Garden

Happy 70th, Dad!

ONLY IN FLORIDA

P.S. Florida

B.Y.O.B.: Helmets

Leapin' Lizards (Florida Review)

Alligators

Free Range Chicken Poop

The Last Baptism

Cheap Chicken Wine: A Review

B.Y.O.B.: Safe Arrivals

Coming Up for Air

B.Y.O.B.

B.Y.O.B.

B.Y.O.B.

Walking With God, A Sermon

B.Y.O.B.

B.Y.O.B.

Lily's Birthday Wish

A Little Behind

B.Y.O.B.

Happy Memorial Day!

B.Y.O.B.