Kool is F-O-R-T-Y/and a Story Add On!

Happy 40th Birthday Karen!

I could not let Ms. Karen's 4oth come and go without some acknowledgment. Well, I could have, but I did not want to. I thought that a great way to honor her was to create a STORY ADD ON that would make her proud. Do you think we can do it? Give it a try. Don't be shy...if you have never participated in an ADD ON before give it a shot.

RULES: (A post honoring Kool would most certainly have to have rules!)

1. Read the whole story before throwing in your 2 cents.

2. If you are feeling intimidated or creatively challenged you are free to just add a few lines. Or at least leave a comment wishing Karen a happy 40th!

3. If you post a great story addition only to publish it and find out someone got one in right before you, delete yours and try again.

4. Have fun! And let's make Kool proud!

__________________________________________________

The day was starting like so many others. The sun peeked in behind, beneath, and through her bedroom curtains. The shower was already steaming up the room as her husband rushed to get ready for work. Something was different though...she couldn't remember ever sleeping as soundly as she had last night. Her mind plagued with thoughts about PTO meetings, wayward teens and adolescent scheduling, usually kept her from peaceful sleep these days. But not last night. Last night she did not even remember turning off the reading lamp or kissing her husband goodnight. Maybe it was the box of wine they had finished off before bed...whatever it was she wasn't too anxious to drop her feet to the cool floor and break the spell.

But rise she must. Stretching her limbs upward and outward in a bear like motion she rambled out of her bed. As she opened the bedroom door dressed in her chenille robe and fuzzy slippers she was anything but prepared for what her eyes beheld...

Things I've learned by having a 1st grader

The First Grade Boys: Theo, Johnny, Nicholas, Scott, & Jerett.

(Andrew is the honorary brother to all!)

1. First grade is most certainly and altogether completely DIFFERENT than kindergarten.

2. Even a child who starts 1st grade unable to spell will take a spelling test the first week of school and surprise the heck out of me.

3. Correcting a 6 year-old's first attempt at a spelling test by writing over his letters, hurts his feelings and tugs at my heart.

4. As an English major I am even more frustrated than my six-year-old when I can not explain why there just has to be an "E" at the end of 'white' even though you CAN NOT HEAR ITS SOUND.

5. Even though each day is extremely challenging having buddies to run with makes it worth going back.

6. When a teacher sends homework for a first grader it means homework for mom too.

7. Mom should read all directions VERY carefully before helping son with assignments. The numerous red marks are even more traumatic when they are because mom didn't read the directions.

8. After experiencing the level of difficulty my son is challenged with academically each day I now do not roll my eyes when he says that gym, lunch, and recess are his favorite parts of the school day.

9. A little encouragement goes a long way in boosting morale.

10. Dad will be in charge of all things intellectual after first grade.

Not so Wordy Wednesday

A boy.

A book.

A perch.

A weekend excursion

We had a dual purpose camping trip this past weekend. We wanted to be part of Chad's sister, Laurie's, surprise 40th birthday party and get in a great weekend of Fall camping with my family.

The weather was perfect. The company was great. The memories were priceless. Enjoy the show.

I think that we surprised her.
Laurie, it's not so bad...except for the fact that you are
now staring 50 in the face! :0)

I have returned from no where.

You may have noticed that I did not blog last week. You may not have noticed. Either way, it is what it is. I had reasons, not very good ones...but reasons.

Now I am back. I think.

What did I do with my free time you might be wondering... well, not as much as I should have that is for darn sure. But I did make a trip to our local library with a list of reads that I swiped from a few of you BOOKWORM bloggers. That in itself is enough to convince me not to be a reader. The librarian was very nice, don't get me wrong. But I have never seen such a screwed up unique way of filing books. So even after I figure out if they have the books I am looking for, finding them in the shelves...almost impossible.

I did manage to come out with three and last week I read two of them. Good stuff. One of my many problems that arises from the much larger problem I have of no SELF-CONTROL is that when I get a book, I see no reason why it should not be finished immediately. It is there. It is interesting. There is no reason not to keep reading. Except that supper needs to be cooked, dishes need to be put away, kids need to be read too, blogging needs wants to be done.

I digress. I am back. I think. Whether that makes you smile or not.

Mom's Turn

An Iowa Mom had this insane fabulous idea for a blog where we are encouraged to SPEAK OUR MINDS. Here I thought I'd been doing that all along. The real kicker...you can do it anonymously. Holy cow people...watch out. If you think I am easily annoyed based on my writing here on HJWDYK...you have no idea what you could be in for.

All of you who have been wondering when you'd show up in a blog post- now is the time. Stop over and check it out. Submit a story. Release your pent up anger, frustration, or annoyances. It's really cheap therapy.

Duck, duck, GOOSE!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is that time of year again. That time of year when all things wild should be very afraid. There are men, women (Amy), and children that are armed and dangerous coming to end your life in the name of sport and then dine on your flesh. It is a very beautiful thing.

Honestly, it is a beautiful thing. If done correctly. It is a beautiful thing that the idea of rising before dawn to lay in a cold, wet field with his father, is not only appealing to a six-year old but that he awaits it with anticipation. It is a beautiful thing that most mornings nothing dies, but much is born between this father and son in the way of bonding. It is a beautiful thing that respect for animals, guns, and nature can be taught by a caring and loving parent and not a radical extremist.

Yeah, occasionally they bring home something feathered and dead. And the look in Nicholas' eyes is priceless as they sparkle with the thrill of the adrenaline rush. I have not made the leap into it being a beautiful thing to eat this feathered fowl...I just don't enjoy the mud slurping, scum sucking flavor of a bird that feeds on the pond scum of a lagoon. But the boys chow down with pride in knowing they 'provided' their women with some sustenance. Even if we're eating the chicken version of this meal.

The things that bug me about Caillou

I know that you are thinking one of these two things right now: a) This woman has entirely too much time on her hands if she has time to be annoyed by a cartoon character. Or b) I am so glad that I have a real job and do not have to be bothered by this type of childish nonsense.

It's okay. I can take it. I admit that I am socially retarded. I had a college professor inform me that any child that endured homeschooling could expect no less. (He had no idea that I had been home schooled.) I can handle it. Regardless, I'm sharing my complaints.

1. His name. There is no phonetic sense behind his name. Look it up on baby names dot com....nothing. I'd hate to be the teacher who has to teach him how to spell that one. I should be careful here because I am learning that this is the trend with many children these days. Sorry, it bugs me.

2. His voice. Could it be any whinier? I don't think so.

3. His clothes. Why does he wear shorts and a t-shirt (the same every episode) while his parents wear long sleeved shirts and pants? Just wondering.

4. His unexplained baldness. If he suffers from a childhood illness that causes him to have no hair...please share this with us. It would be a great story line and I would indeed be empathetic. If he is bald because the artist was feeling lazy that day? That's annoying.

5. He's never disciplined. He is a typical kid. He whines, disobeys, and is often naughty....but why isn't he ever disciplined with anything more than a..."Caillou, why did you do that? You know we don't hit Rosie."? I'm not saying he needs to be spanked. It's public television for crying out loud, we all know how beastly that would be. But come on, give us something that resembles real discipline.

Okay, that's it. That's all I've got. Sorry if I offended any avid Caillou fans. Kate likes him too. I'm just sayin'....

Not so Wordy Wednesday

Katharine Anne is sportin' a 'tude...

and a fabulous look, I might add.

Have you forgotten?

Do you remember where you were when you heard?

Do you remember how you felt seeing the images of the planes crashing into the towers...and then the towers falling?

Do you remember who you called first...just to see if you were really seeing what you thought you were seeing?

Do you remember feeling angry, scared, and totally devastated?

Do you remember how our country in all of it's large-ness...seemed suddenly so small?

Do you remember feeling like you could drive all the way to New York just to offer your hands in service to someone hurting?

Do you remember hugging your spouse, parents, children, friend just a little bit tighter and longer that night?

Do you remember when our elected officials finally quit acting like politicians and instead acted like hurting humans?

Do you remember seeing the flags flying in every yard, every building, and homemade tributes lining fences?

Do you remember the heroes of Flight 93, who took the role of soldiers and defended their country in the air?

Do you remember crying in your pillow asking God why, yet feeling a peace that He was still here?

Do you remember how proud you were to be an American?

Do you remember the soldier fighting right now in another land defending our freedoms?

Don't forget. We can not ever forget.

If I needed another reason....

...to LOVE Sunday's, then this is it: NFL OPENER BABY!

After what has been a very long and exhausting couple of weeks this was just about the perfect way to spend a day of relaxation.

I have divided my time lately between caring for those in my house with the 'pukes and poops' and doing massive fundraising and preparation for our school's largest annual fundraiser event, The Fall Fest (which was held Saturday)...while feeling less than perky myself.

After a week of late night wake-ups to get water for a dry throat, running to the aid of a school child bent over the toilet, and scrubbing my carpets at 2am due to the poor bowel control of a toddler....spending a day on the sofa with my family, who was mostly healthy again, while watching the best thing television has to offer, was pretty picture perfect.

Both of our teams were victorious. Even though the Vikings have yet to prove if they have a consistent offense to compliment their refreshingly on-the-ball defense. Even if the Bronco's were trying to start the season with a nail-biter by not claiming their victory until there was NO time on the clock. Either way, they won. As for my fantasy team, Heidi's Hero's, (as if any of you CARE)...crossing my fingers that my 40 point lead will be enough to win the season opener as well.

Here's to a great season of sofa sittin', beer sippin' guzzlin', soup eatin', NFL watchin', GOODNESS!

Sometimes it's as simple as a kids movie

Broken marriages, children with sicknesses, alcoholism, war, disobedient children, job questioning, financial stress...

I am sure that you have your own list of things that you would love an explanation for, an answer to the question "Why, Lord?" The above are just some of mine.

For a time, what seemed like a LONG time, I struggled with praying, something that had before been second nature to me, as easy as a conversation. During this time when I would open my mouth to offer up a prayer for a specific thing I felt mute. Words that usually come so naturally to me were absent. I felt abandoned and lonely in my relationship with God. Thanks to the wisdom of a spiritual advisor (no not the 1-900 type), I was awakened to the idea that God wanted me to be QUIET! Can you imagine? A total stranger delivering God's message for me to SHUT UP! Shocking.

But what wisdom it was. Since that time I have changed my prayer life by 360 degrees. I no longer request things from God as I once did. I no longer presume to know what His will is in every situation. I no longer assume that a lack of healing in a physical or brokenness sense is a result of my lack of faith. God is so much bigger than me. He knows so much more than I.

Instead my prayers became a complete surrender to the will of God. A complete trusting that whatever He had in store I would be able to find peace within it. I would stop telling Him what would bring me peace (answers the way I wanted them) and started asking for a peace that would surpass all my understanding in the face of a storm.

Prayer does not change God's will...it changes me. Maybe it's a simple as this: We aren't SUPPOSED to know 'why?' Maybe that is the truest and purest test of our faith. Things happen in this lifetime that we will never have an answer to this side of heaven but will we still TRUST HIM?

This song has been my prayer since that day. This song, in it's childish simplicity, is all that we need to pray sometimes. Please listen. And let God speak this message to you.

I'm a slacker...

I have been reading and hearing a lot lately about 'multi-tasking'. In fact, thanks to some ambitious women, they now have a blog set up specifically for that purpose. Have you been over there to check them out? Really you should. If not for the fabulous ideas that you'll glean then for the up-close, smack-you-in-the-face, reality check that YOU ARE A SLACKER. Well, I don't mean YOU, I mean ME.

Good grief. I used to think I could multi-task. I even brazenly mocked my husband along with all 'man'-kind for their seemingly inability to do so. But that was back when my distorted concept of multi-tasking reigned supreme.

Back when I thought that I was multi-tasking when I held a coffee up in one hand, steered the van with my knee, while changing the radio station with my free hand, watched the road with one eye, while glancing into the rear view mirror with my other, and used my mouth to tell my 3 year old to stop picking her nose and wiping it on the seat.

Let me tell you...that is amateur multi-tasking. The ladies over at Multi-Tasking Moms have taken it to a whole new level. What I described above could perhaps be called, Red-Neck multi-tasking. The six week menu planning, computer generated grocery-lists, alphabetized pantries....that is what we call SOPHISTICATED MULTI-TASKING.

I have much to learn, but right now I just need a nap.

Not so Wordy Wednesday

Baby love.

Just another weekend

Rats. Well, I can't be 100% certain that I should be using the plural form here...but with all of the well-meaning yet over-eager commentary from family and friends, I am pretty safe in assuming that where there is one rat there is bound to be many more.

Yeah, my rodent issues just keep coming. I am beginning to wonder what life lesson God is trying to teach me through this fear that keeps reappearing in my life these days.

My family and I camped over the holiday weekend. And if the Village People camping next to us were not enough entertainment then I suppose the rat walking into our campsite, showing no fear of the humans, was probably sufficient entertainment for a lifetime.

I am not a camping snob. I want to make that LOUD AND CLEAR. We have a pop-up camper that we pull with our minivan, which besides being loaded down with children, is packed to the extreme with bikes, coolers, suitcases and all the camping necessitates. FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD, we look like camping red-necks too. So when I say that the campers next to us this weekend were a motley crew of characters, I say it with no disrespect. Just good old fashioned humorous observation.

I still have no idea where all the people slept that kept coming in and out of that tiny camper. That is except for the very large patriarch of the family who parked his mini-van near enough to hear the visiting but remained inside his driver's seat the ENTIRE weekend. Seriously. He slept in the van for 6 hours Saturday....then started up the van and drove to the restroom. His woman even brought his meals to him in the van. Add to him a ZZ Top band member, a fresh from the Florida beach tube top wearing granny, and a boy with a mohawk?? Good stuff.

On top of our hillbilly entertainment we were surprised with an unwelcome guest wandering into our campsite late Saturday evening. While we sat around the campfire visiting with some dear friends one noticed a "critter" walking up to the camper. As I lept up with my daughter in my arms to run to the safety of a picnic table, my husband jumped up and in one quick motion smashed the head of a RAT with a log. A RAT, people! I am aware that my sickness concerning mice is sometimes considered irrational, I do not see anything IRRATIONAL about being completely freaked-out-disgusted by a stinkin' rat!

Where did the rat come from? Why was it in our campsite? I don't want to assume....but I'm thinking we may have killed our neighbors pet.

The Invisible Woman

(Thanks Carrie for passing this along...it's a message worth sharing, even if I didn't write it.)



It started to happen gradually ...

One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" “Nobody," he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.

I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?” Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more.
Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going¸ she's going¸ she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I Read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals- we have no record of his or her names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it."

And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God Whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are
building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own Self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no Cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but also at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Just had to share

I do not know

if there is anything

more precious than

the love of a sibling.

10 Things About My Husband....

1. He's pragmatic. At least that is what he's been told, and after looking up the definition...I agree 100%.

2. He always assumes the best about people.

3. He does not read body language. Unless I say, "Chad I am very angry with you." Chad does not know that I am very angry with him.

4. Appearances mean very little to him. Which explains why I look like I do most of the time.

5. He eats anything that I cook. He never complains about my lack of creativity or culinary shortcomings.

6. He is a natural athlete. So being his opponent is not always fun.

7. He hates gossip.

8. He is far more patient than I.

9. He prays with our kids every night that he is here.

10. He loves me.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABE!

Thank you Animal Planet...thank you very much.

Although we know that NO television station, other than EWTN, can be watched un-policed by we the parents...we are pretty comfortable with letting Nicholas watch an occasional Animal Planet show. He is fascinated with all things wild and most of the time we all enjoy a good episode of "Extreme Cats" or "Merekat Manor" together.

Recently, Nicholas was not feeling well and asked to lay on our bed and watch Animal Planet. We obliged our ailing child and after watching a few minutes of a show all about Ostriches, felt confident to leave the room and allow him some rest time with the tube on.

Chad and I came back in later to check on him and this is the conversation which ensued:

Nicholas: "Dad! Did you know that ostriches mate!?"

Dad: "Really Nic? Cool."

Nicholas: "Yeah dad, the boy ostrich sits on the girl ostrich and then he does a funny dance."

Allll righty then. I guess he has to learn it somewhere.

Book worm intimidation

There is something about a book worm that just intimidates the crap out of me. You know who you are...the person who has a book shelf resembling that of the local library. The person who knows exactly what influence Willa Cather had on the feminist writing movement. The person who can quote one liners from any genre of great classic literature. The person who has a blog that is bogged down with title after title of their most favorite reads.

Yes, you make me uncomfortable! Why you ask? Well, I'm an English major and I guess that is supposed to make me more prone to the love of all things wordy. I like to talk. I like to write. I don't know that I don't like literature, but I certainly do not have a passion for it.

So when I hear someone discussing their vast understanding of some particular piece of literature that they have recently devoured, I feel a sickening in my stomach as I attempt to engage in a quasi-knowledgeable conversation about the long lasting effects that John Q. Author will have on society with his provocative statements about all things social.

I use to love my literature courses in college. I remember staying up late hours finishing the final pages of Thoreau's, "Walden", or Arthur Miller's, "The Death of a Salesman", feeling energized and almost genuis like, by my new understanding of the human soul...only to arrive at class bright and early and have my professor commence to completely re-interpret all that I had come to understand. I would walk out of the classroom feeling like I would be unable to make a knowledgeable assessment of literature without a three degree professor standing beside me to explain the layers of deeper meaning hidden within the text.

Now my idea of great literature is the kind that I, the all.powerful.knowledgable.mom, can explain to a three-year-old without having to ask my husband if there was a deeper meaning that I missed.

The scent of a woman

I do not have a fragrance...an odor maybe, but not a fragrance. And well, let's face it, the two are really quite different.

I am a bit shy to admit it, because well, don't all women have a signature scent? If not a signature scent then at least they have some consistently pleasant smell. Even my 90 year-old granny knew the importance of always smelling nice. And she always did.

I do not know exactly when I stopped wearing perfume, and I do not know exactly why I stopped wearing perfume...but I did. Somewhere between pregnancies and breastfeeding I must have decided that the odors coming from my body could not be masked with some heavy-scented, over-priced, fragrance. Not to mention the damage I was possibly doing to the tear ducts and sniffing glands of my infants' eyes and nose.

So I just switched to lightly scented shampoos and body lotions. And while that can be a nice change, it just isn't the same as that sexy, mysterious scent of a woman who has dabbed some magic potion behind her ears, knees and on her wrists.

But now I am not pregnant or nursing and I am looking to be a lady of mystery again. (Which is probably what led to me getting pregnant...) Or at least a lady that doesn't smell like baby lotion and sweaty toddlers. As with most things feminine...I need a little help. What is the hot perfume these days?

Toss me some ideas please, what drives your man wild? Or at least makes it obvious to the opposite sex that you are a woman. Maybe I'll use my birthday money on a bottle of sweet smelling nectar.

A mother's prayer on the first day of school...

Dear Lord Jesus,

Please send sunshine today. As I will need it for an excuse to wear my shades. You see, Father, today I'm sending my babies off to school...and I will most certainly have tears in my eyes.

I am not ashamed to admit that I feel sadness about this day. But just like always Lord, You send joy to cover our sorrow...always. So as my heart aches in thought of turning over my children for seven hours a day to the care and instruction of another, I feel much joy in knowing that they are growing, learning, and being taught by people of God.

May they be a witness Lord, even at a young age, to their peers. May all that we have taught them at home hold fast and strong in the face of pressure. Above all, may their deep love for You shine like a beacon to those around them.

Be with them today Lord...even when I can not. At every turn and with every emotion that arises may they feel Your presence and know Your peace. Be with me today Lord...even when they can not. At every turn and with every emotion that arises may I feel Your presence and know Your peace.

Bless the teachers with patience and perseverance. With gentleness and resolve. With knowledge and humbleness. Prepare them for the flood of energy they will encounter and help them to curb that energy into productive learning. Bless them for their sacrifice and hard work on behalf of my children. Help me not to take them for granted and to offer my own hands for the benefit of all.

Yes Father, send sunshine today. Be our sunshine today. I will certainly need my sunglasses to hide these tears.

In Jesus Name,

Amen

Things I learned on a road trip with friends....

1. Six hours in a car with two other women is TOTALLY different than 6 hours in a car with kids.

2. Accents are sexy. But the novelty wears off quickly when you can't understand your waiter.

3. Hikes are quite different than walks.

4. Always take a water bottle when wandering off into the woods.

5. Strangers on the hi-way are friendly enough to help three women in distress. But they will find it amusing.

6. A Diet Coke never tastes better than after an unplanned 3 hour hike.

7. Life is short and sometimes tough. Friends sure make it better.

8. If a corset is the only way to get cleavage and a 25 inch waist...count me out.

9. Dress up is still fun even at almost 30.

10. The resort we stayed at serves 5 kinds of dessert...the only one I know for sure though is Key Lime Pie.

11. Some conversations just can't wait until tomorrow. Even if it keeps you up until 2:30am.

12. Mice don't like thunderstorms.

13. Mice may seek shelter in parked vehicles during a thunderstorm.

14. I'm not okay with sharing my vehicle with a mouse and his hoochie.

15. By standers may get a chuckle out of seeing an almost 30 year old scream like a girl and refuse to get into her van. I'm okay with that.

16. De-con can take up to 4 days to kill a mouse.

17. Someone needs to invent a mouse killing spray, dead on contact.

18. A can of high powered cockroach and wasp spray just might do the trick.

19. But it should not be inhaled by people.

20. Hot tubs should not be a used as fore-play unless it's in your own back yard.

21. I'm not the only mom who does not appreciate water splashing in my face.

22. I don't sleep well anywhere. It's not just here at home.

23. My friend, Teresa, may be tiny, but her faith sure is big.

24. We only have to take life as serious as we choose, and Carrie chooses to laugh.

25. I am blessed beyond measure.

What can I say....?

....about a man who loves me this much? Chad you are amazing.

So, I return home from my scheduled, planned, known-about, prepared for, in control of, TRIP with two (we so missed you Holly) of my dearest friends, only to be completely and totally floored when I came home to a house full of family and friends brought together by my sneaky husband for a surprise birthday party!

Do none of you know me? Hello! A surprise party? IF this was my cup of tea you'd totally have been receiving hints about how nice a SURPRISE party would be....IF this was my cup of tea my reaction would not have been so amusing, I realize this.

The real thing is, I have a husband that is just knock-my-socks off wonderful and even though he knows me well enough to know that a surprise party wouldn't be my first choice, it would be a great way to let me know just how deeply he honors me, appreciates me and likes to have the upper hand. I guess that's love folks.

Thank you. Thank you to my husband for doing it even though you knew it would FREAK me out. Thank you to my family for spending your Sunday afternoon with me to celebrate, even though it meant long drives. Thank you to my friends for choosing to include me in your life. I realize that I can be a difficult gal to love some days...but you all are amazing!

HOWEVER, to a certain two individuals....and I'm pretty sure that you know who you are...YOU CALL YOURSELVES FRIENDS? Three nights of sharing WAY to much personal space and personal information and still no heads up? No hinting that I should be 'prepared'? No little "we know something that you don't. (wink*wink)" No "we have something we can't tell you but if you guess...(opps she guessed it)" Seriously, what were you thinking? I love you guys!

Well, here's the surprise party. As for the girls trip....I might be talked into sharing.

Cool Slideshows!

It's not all about me...

There is a fine line between the need for healthy free time and the selfish ugly sister, "me time".

Even though I do not have a heavy-handed, chauvinistic, 1950's mentality husband....I do have a man that loves me, works hard, and likes it when I'm around. (Not really sure why, but he does.) So on the days when I am feeling extremely overwhelmed by the pressure of being NEEDED 18 of the 24 hours in a day we sometimes have to find an effective way to communicate our needs to one another.

Chad enjoys our family time in the evenings. I enjoy our family time in the evenings as well...most days. But there are those rare occasions when I am climbing the walls and ready to pounce on him the second he walks in the door. Some days I just need OUT!

But I struggle with leaving the house for a girls night out, an extended length grocery run, or just to browse the shops downtown, because I feel guilt about not wanting to be home with the ones who apparently want me there so badly. And it never helps if my husband's response to my announcement of "I need to get out of here for a while", is less than understanding, enthusiastic, and 100% supported. That only adds to the guilt that I feel while gone and the time away seems wasted.

Chad and I both acknowledge and repent of the ugly sin of selfish in our own lives. We try to hold one another accountable for this sin. It is a constant struggle to remind ourselves that our needs, wants, and desires must come in line with God's.

So, recently as we were sharing about this (not in a moment of me needing out), I tried to communicate to Chad that it isn't out of a need for 'me time' as much as a need to be un-needed for a time. I want to be a better mom because I am calm, responsive, and loving to my family...and in order to do that I need short, regular moments of time where no one is requiring my attention.

I shared my opinion with him, of why you often hear women in their 50's, now without children around, talking of all that they are going to do for them self, and even sometimes leaving their spouse. It is partially a result of a husband and wife, who in the early years of marriage, didn't realize that asking for an hour or two away to re-charge and re-discover our love for our family, would not make us want more and more time away, but quite contrarily it would make us long to be with these people who so love us and understand our needs.

I think that it is so important for moms and dads to have those moments when we are allowed to just be away from our families. This is my perspective as a full time stay-at-home mom. It is also important that we, as well as our spouses, try to support one another in these needs and realize that it isn't a statement about how much the other one wants their own space...as it is a realization that we are better parents when we are given the chance to miss our families.

Saaa-wheeett

An entire meal of sweet corn...

Ridiculous customs

Does it baffle anyone else when people, sometimes complete strangers, sometimes a face you've seen in various places across town but don't actually know, pass you in a parking lot, shopping center, gas station, WHATEVER, and toss out the obligatory phrase: "How are you doing?", or "How are you?", or any version of such nonsense?

Why do we do that?

I don't do that. And do you know what image that gives me? Cold, pre-occupied, snobbish, and rude. All because I feel no obligation whatsoever to ask the lady I see approaching my vicinity of the grocery aisle how she is doing. When we both know full well that no answer other than "good" or "fine" is acceptable in this customary exchange. Seriously, how would the game change if just once I responded with, "well since you asked...I'm feeling completely devastated."?

I don't play this game. And you know what? I am no less caring, compassionate, or thoughtful than those who do. When I ask someone how they 'are', I actually want to know because I care about them. Not because I care about how I might come across if I don't.

The rest of the story...

I will forewarn you that this will probably be of little interest to you unless you are related to me. This is a handful of the pictures I snapped while back visiting my mom, who was watching my nieces and nephew.

At the end of the summer my nephew, Jacob, will be moving with his family to Arizona. While it will be heartbreaking to know that we will see even less of him, I couldn't be more happy for the fabulous family that he has and trust that God will lead them where they need to be and bring them back around when we need to see them! I pray that his journey will be filled with joy and that he will return often for more summer visits with Grandpa and Grandma. We love him so much!

Shane and Dawn's girls were visiting as well. Evie Jo is 6 (birthday on the 11th), and Elaina is three. So obviously they are a perfect fit for my girls. There is very little 'watching' involved when they get together. You hardly see them. They rush around from one activity to the next only pausing to re-fuel with a quick bite to eat or a hug from mom and grandma. They fill every moment together with as much love as possible. Just to be sure that it holds them over until the are together again. One of my highlights from the visit was when I had all four girls in the van with me and they were belting out the words, along with Shania Twain, to "Man, I feel like a woman!"....talk about some serious girl power!

My sister came down with her two little ones for one of the days as well. Angel is 2 and Thomas just turned one on the 8th of August. So, needless to say, the house was hopping!

I'll be back to posting something other than slide shows tomorrow...until then bear with me.

We love you Evie!

H*A*P*P*Y B*I*R*T*H*D*A*Y

E*V*I*E J*O*!!

Fall camping...in August

Have you been missin' me? Not feeling so much love from you all...well, I take that back. Kerrie, Teresa, and Elizabeth- thanks for checking in on me!

We left last Friday for a camping trip with our friends. Every time that we go camping I pack jeans and sweatshirts for everyone just in case. They always come home un-worn...but it's better to be safe than sorry, right? Well, not this time. I didn't pack them. I figured, it's been like 95 degrees with 90% humidity...ain't gonna need them. WRONG! The weather was AWESOME for camping, cool, overcast, if you were prepared for it. We coped by cuddling around the campfire and nothing sounded sweeter than the rainfall that played a lullaby as it pattered on my camper all night long.

In the first photo you'll notice a large Winnebago being PULLED by our little Power Donkey Dakota. The last 10 miles into the campground were a mix of our husbands laid out on the road banging on equipment under the Winney, and then a quick firing up and flooring it, only to be followed by a 1/2 mile of coasting over to the shoulder again. After about four of these stops, Chad and I took our camper and vehicles ahead to set up, then came back to pull our friends in. If we didn't look like a red-neck, hillbilly crew...I don't know what would. But, we made it. You should have seen the looks on the poor campers around us.

Despite the rocky start to our weekend, we really could not have asked for a more perfect weekend for camping. We didn't get to sit down by the water soaking up the rays but we had a great time. Bike rides, hiking, camp fires, games...that's what it's all about. Enjoy the show.

Gotta get me some....

Do you have a hobby? Everyone has a hobby, right?

I don't have a hobby. I need to get a hobby. I'm wondering, though, if I am too old to develop a hobby. Are there websites set up for people looking for a hobby? Maybe I could go browse around for a few hours in "Hobby Lobby". That ought to help...but I'd probably just purchase many unnecessary craft items that I would never complete because I do not like to craft. Maybe that's my hobby, shopping.

Shouldn't we all have a hobby? Something we look forward to doing when we are able to steal away a few hours by ourselves? I like to write. But I wouldn't call this a hobby. Now for some of you, yes, blogging is a hobby. Me, not so much. I know, I know, I will have those who argue that...but you are wrong. I like to write. My blog allows me that.

Don't misunderstand, I enjoy blogging. I enjoy peeking in the windows of strangers homes and seeing that there are many more crazies in the world like me. But it is definitely not a hobby. Not a passion. Not an obsession. Seriously. (Do I sound like an addict trying to convince you?)


Enjoying something isn't the same thing as a hobby. I enjoy a soak in the tub, I enjoy a glass of wine, I enjoy chocolate, I enjoy a good movie. But none of these would qualify as hobbies for me.

Golfing, knitting, scrapbooking, biking, gardening, painting, reading...these are hobbies, just not my hobbies. So, I'm wondering...what's your hobby?

Four dead "fetus's"

I just don't know what to think about stuff like this. (please click the link...the article is short) Well, I do know what to think of it, I just can't stomach it.

This excerpt was taken from our local paper via the associated press:

"The timing in Freeman's case is critical. If the pre-term infants were too young to be considered viable outside the womb, Freeman can't be charged with murder. And if they were old enough to live outside the womb, but died before Maryland passed its 2005 fetal homicide law, it may not be a crime even if Freeman caused their deaths.

The law, designed to penalize those who kill a pregnant woman or her viable fetus, includes a provision shielding pregnant women from prosecution for actions that result in their own fetus's death.

The exemption, meant to preserve the right to an abortion hasn't been challenged in the courts...."

Reasons I look forward to fall...

1. Yeah, this is much prettier than the brown hue my grass has taken on.



2. Drinking this in the morning when temperatures actually make sense for such beverages.



3. Wearing my Shade tops. I've worn the short sleeved versions all summer, but layering is so much more fun in cooler temps.



4. NFL baby! Yes, I am a CRAZY football fan, although I enjoy watching the Vikings and Broncos, I am crazy about them all. I love it...I love it...I love it.


5. Yeah, so looking forward to slipping into my Silver's again. Key words, slipping into, as opposed to the pouring into I've had to do all summer in the humidity!


I love summer. Really I do. And this is not a complaint driven post. I will enjoy every last ray of hot summer sun and I will certainly miss it come January. But oh do I love Fall.