No Mo' Mojo

This is going to be a photo entry. I don't have the brain cells to write creatively this time. But the month is almost over... Here's what has eaten up all my mojo:

Football and Cheerleading:

Occupying Ben during games:

My dining room since October 14, when we started in on Abby's costume:

My kids no longer think it's cool to eat standing up in the kitchen, and frankly I'm tired of it too, but the dogs thought it was awesome.

The church fall party:

The costumes (a mermaid, Darth Vader and Annekin Skywalker):

And the Fire Fighter's Association Annual Halloween Party at the station. We went from working fire station to party central and back again in 8 hours. We had a full house this year, and I was so grateful for all the help. I ran around like a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest, and the fire fighters (my husband included) and other association helpers were great to just do what I asked and not argue, and even better, they just did stuff that needed to be done. I'd go in to make coffee and find it already brewing, I'd go to bury"treasure" in the hay wagon only to find a fire fighter directing my children to do it. It went very well but I'm really glad it's over!

Now all that's left to do this month is 19 loads of laundry, a week's worth of dishes and fast food trash (that's mostly in the van, though), and compile and submit the scout's popcorn orders. Oh, and clean out the fridge, clean off the dining room table, clean the bird cage, vacuum, bathe the dogs (spring pond water is one thing, fall pond water is too disgusting for words, but they swim in it anyway...), plan a game and a craft for the class Halloween parties this Friday, and get over the cold I got for some strange reason...

At church Sunday someone asked how many days there were 'til Christmas.

I nearly punched him.

Nursing the Baby Stage

Ben started preschool right after Labor Day. He goes Tuesday and Thursday mornings for two and a half hours. His teachers are Miss Jenny and Miss Ruthie, and they greet him with big smiles and hugs. He gets a snack and does all kinds of cool stuff - they've hunted for hidden things in sand, painted a picture with actual grape jelly, and sat under an umbrella to hear a story. He's charmed all the girls in his class (surprise...) and plays Star Wars and Indiana Jones outside with the boys. When I get there to pick him up, he runs to me and says he had "SO MUCH FUN! THAT WAS AWESOME!"

So why does he work the tears from the minute I get him up until Ruthie or Jenny steer him away from my side and into an activity?

It's not like he's bawling from bedroom to classroom, it's more like this uber-big-kid thing: his eyes get red and teary, but he scrunches up his mouth and looks anywhere but at me, and clears his throat a lot. He's five, for goodness sake, and I feel like I'm watching Matt Damon gear up for a funeral scene. And even though this does have an effect on me, I help him get dressed and find his shoes and buckle him up, drive him there and walk him in the door. If I say, "I wonder what letter (of the alphabet) you'll get to learn about today?" he answers, "maybe M for Mom." If I wonder if any of the little girls he's introduced me to will be there, he sniffs and says, "yeah but I'd rather stay and play with you."

It's a 10 minute drive, and by the time we've crossed the state line and entered town, he's asking for details on our afternoon: "Are you going to come and get me? Are we going to spend the rest of the day together? Are you going to be busy or will you read to me? How many minutes do I have to stay here? Can you bring my lunchbox with a surprise in it when you come back?"

Tuesday and Thursday are not very productive afternoons - Ben "helps" with everything, so things that may have taken me 30 seconds are now taking 30 minutes.

But we are having fun, this last year of being full time mom and kid, just the two of us. I missed out on some of this with Elliott and Abby because I had them all so close together, and it's only Ben's late birthday that has kept him from being in Kindergarten now, granting us this one last year. In a lot of ways this is nice. He's potty trained, verbal, and of all the kids he actually does what I ask him to (I have to re-do it sometimes depending on the chore, but he tries). We spend more time reading and playing games than on housework or any of the other things I need to get done, but that's okay. I have the days when he gets to sleep in to get to that stuff. And now I try to get as much done as I can before I go pick him up; then I don't feel so bad sitting for an hour reading every book he brings me.

But boy, those first few days after I dropped him off? Well, okay the first day I stayed in town, close to my cell phone just in case. There were actual tears that morning. But the second day and that next week? Oh, bliss...

I came home and went to the bathroom and NO ONE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR OR SCREAMED FOR ME! It was awesome! I fixed and ate a bagel with cream cheese, and NO ONE INTERRUPTED ME! I GOT TO EAT THE WHOLE THING IN ONE SITTING! I made coffee, watched the weather channel and actually got to see the important part, and then...

Well, by then it was too quiet in the house and I wondered where everyone was. For the next 90 minutes, I felt like I was missing something, like I'd forgotten something somewhere. I talked to the dogs, the cats, held the guinea pig, played with the bird, picked up toys from the kid's floor and grumbled to myself about being the maid. I found stuff to do that was great - I read a magazine, organized some craft things, drank coffee - but I still felt a little lost.

I realized that when the kids are around, I have a schedule set by them. I have to feed them, dress them, clean them, untangle them from each other occasionally, and make sure they get where they need to be. When they are all gone... wow. I can do my own thing. But what is it that I want to do? Of course there's stuff that has to be done, and since that first week of aimless wandering, I've gotten much more organized. But I still have some flexibility and can do those things that I want to do. I've worked in the garden, researched some things for church and scouts online, sorted through kid clothes and gotten lots of toys ready for a garage sale (shhhh). I have also started turning all the televisions on in the house while I'm here alone.

It's just too darned quiet without all the kids. Remind me of that next summer, will you?

Faith on Two Wheels

Don bought himself a birthday present this year. On the one hand, that made my life easier - he's not exactly the easiest guy to shop for; and the size and coolness factor of this gift made everything else look like a really ugly tie in comparison so I didn't even bother to shop.

On the other hand... it's an item that makes me nervous and gives me gray hairs every time it gets used.

It's a Harley. A 2003 Softail Deuce.

He's wanted one for a long time, and finally found the perfect bike, already built and in great condition for the right price at the right time in our financial lives, so I guess this was the time to do it. He's also very conscious of the fact that he has a wife and three kids who love him and need him around (after all, who else would clean the cat box, change my oil, and let the kids watch Family Guy?). He's an extraordinarily observant and careful rider, I know. What makes me nervous is all the other drivers out there who are texting, putting on makeup, eating, and just generally being idiots. I don't text and I don't wear makeup, but I have eaten while driving before - how else would I get sustenance some days? I know how it takes your attention from the road and other vehicles.

So while I'm really glad he's got his Harley after all these years of waiting and wanting, I have to admit some trepidation about him actually getting on it and riding around. Not only am I concerned about other drivers, loose gravel, and strong wind gusts while he's out on it alone, but I can't fathom going with him. Instead of being able to buy a helmet and enjoy this with him, I'm a big chicken, paranoid about tossing away our ability to walk or even our lives if a car or truck driver isn't paying attention. I think about our children going to a relative I haven't even spoken with about taking them just in case, being raised in another state away from friends and our church family. I think about the wind tangling my hair into a matted nest of "oh just cut it off already" and the very real potential for bugs splattering painfully against my face, and the idea of a motorcycle ride just loses a lot of it's appeal for me.
And then I wonder where my faith is.

When you're on a motorcycle, you experience going places in a way you just can't in a car. You can feel things, see things, smell things you miss when you're cruising along shut up in your airtight cocoon of conditioned air. Easy Rider is a cult classic, and Harley owners have their own world-wide fraternity for some very good reasons. Being part of that group opens the doors to amazing things in this world, and what's wrong with experiencing some of them? Don wants to, I know, and I love him, so I should at least support his adventure even if I can't wholeheartedly take part in all of it.

And I do have faith that God would take care of me and my children the way He takes care of Don each time he's been out for rides since the day he brought it home. Perhaps having the bike in our garage now is God's way of suggesting that I stop being so over-protective and let Him do His job. And enjoy some of His world and His people in the process.

Maybe I'll go look at helmets this weekend. And maybe I could get a cool leather jacket and some new sunglasses, too.

Don does look very, very good on the bike. He rode into the driveway this afternoon as I was picking up walnuts with the kids and I just stood there and stared at him until I had to wipe the drool off my chin. Trouble is, he knows exactly how good he looks.

Weather or not...

Another Children's Message, Sunday 9/14:

It's football season. My grandmother used to get really excited about football season, but I think that's because she had two daughters and never had to go to a Little League game and sit in the rain or stand in the mud. That's where we were last night, soaking wet, but it was Elliott's first official game and we wouldn't have been anywhere else. Even the cheerleaders had as much spirit as they could muster up.
On the way home, Elliott said that he was glad his team won, but he said, "Mom, I kinda sat out most of the game."
Well I wanted to say something that would make him feel better and also inspire him to keep trying, but we got interrupted. I know, that shocks you - interruptions in my family...
We didn't get to finish that conversation, so I'll tell him now what I wanted to say.
"I know you feel like you sat out, but you did get to play some, I have pictures of you on the field. And some of the boys have more experience than you, but you're doing great - the coaches tell me so. So you just keep practicing and keep learning, and when you do get a chance to play, you do your best. The coaches are always watching, and if they see you doing your best, they'll play you more often."
Well, now that I say that, I'm wondering if I set a good example for him. I'm part of a lot of teams - church, family, volunteer groups. I know my teammates are counting on me, and I know my Coach - God - is always watching. Wow, I can think of some times when I've stood on the sidelines and hoped that someone else would do the hard stuff. Did I even say thank you to my teammates when they did stuff that might have been my job? I might not have.
Gee, I guess I have some practicing to do, too. But I bet we all can think of a time when we've stood back and hoped that mom would clean up that mess, or dad would put those toys away, or even just took for granted that our parents would make sure we had everything we need. So we can all pratice being better teammates, can't we? At home, at school, here at church, and in our community.
Being part of God's team means that we are all winners, and that's the team we have to work hardest for. Being on that winning team makes it easier to do a good job for other teams. And the best part is that if people are counting on you, you are worth counting on. So play your heart out today and every day!

Hmmm...

Let's see... if lightly burned food is "toasted" and burned food is "roasted" or "broiled," and really burned food is "char-broiled," why do I not have my own show on Food Network?

Roasted zucchini muffins, anyone?

Priceless

The kids did not have school yesterday, so I took them to a place called Zonkers - like Chuck E Cheezits (as Ben calls it) but nicer.


Here's the count:


200 tokens - $40
Tickets to ride the snake coaster and carousel: $15
Minutes it took Elliott to go through his: 41
Times I had to play Whack-a-Mole with Ben: 6
Different locations Abby left her shoes: 4
Kids too tired to fight on the way home: Priceless.

After we got home, I begged them to clean up their room so I could vacuum and I went out to mow, and here's the count for that:

Times I had to redo the starting sequence on the mower: 2
Acres mowed: 3
Mosquito bites: 7
Bugs in my nose: 3
Frogs who narrowly escaped: 2
Grasshoppers who didn't: hundreds - YAY!
Believing my dad is watching from heaven and enjoying the smell of fresh cut grass with me: Priceless.

Change and the Cable Guy

I've been delivering the Children's Message off and on for a few years at our tiny Presbyterian Church (active membership - 37!) but lately I've gotten several positive comments on them. I must be divinely inspired, because they have been occuring to me in the shower on Sunday mornings while getting ready for church, but they seem to work. I thought I'd share a few with you. Here's a little background on this one -
We have had trouble finding a Presbyterian minister to work for us (as have a lot of smaller churches) because we just can't afford to pay anyone a decent salary, but we've had a slew of really great fill-in pastors over the last few years. A wonderfully engaging woman filled our pulpit all summer, and it really looked like we might be able to hire her part-time. Alas, another church closer to her home had a full-time opening, and she had to take it. She's trying to support her family, and we understood, but the change was going to be difficult. Even my kids were asking what we were going to do after Jodi left, she had made that much of an impact on everyone. It occurred to me that change in life is inevitable, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Here's the Children's Message I gave the week after Jodi left.

Last week, the cable guy had to come to my house. One of our satellite boxes wasn't working, and this was frustrating. It's the one clear in the back of our house, the one the grown-ups watch a lot, so we called the company and they scheduled a service call. On Friday afternoon, a short stocky guy knocked on the door. He checked out the tv in the living room, and determined that one was indeed working fine (because he's the expert he couldn't just take my word for it...) and I showed him to the back of the house where the other tv was. I don't think he stopped talking for longer than about three seconds the whole time he was there.
"Wow this is a long house, you must get your exercise around here! So the other box is back here? Do you have them hooked up to the phone line? Is there a phone in this room, cause I think I'm gonna need one, depending on what the problem is. Okay, here it is, now where is this plugged in? Wow, this is an old box, you've had this for quite awhile! Where is the dish? Can I get out there to see it? Okay, let's just hook up my monitor to this outlet and see what we have here. Okay, I see the problem, you're going to need a new box! I've got one in the truck, let me just hike back up there and get it. Do I cross a border or anything coming all the way back here? I'm getting my workout today, huh? Okay let's get this hooked up and I'll just need to call in and get it activated. Good! You're all set - here's your new remote and please just sign here!"
Now the old box was big and black and had this tiny green light and a remote that fit really nicely in your hand - my thumb knew where all the buttons were. The new box is small and silver and it has a really bright blue light and the remote is huge but all the buttons are in new places, and the abbreviations are different. It works, but these changes take some getting used to. I can still find my favorite shows, it just takes me longer to figure out which button to press.
Scripture tells us that change is part of God's plan. You know that verse - everyone can sing along if you want: to everything (turn turn turn) there is a season... So changes at church must be part of His plan, too. We have a new pastor today, and while we are going to miss Jodi, I'm sure that Matthew will do a great job. And even though he's new, there are lots of things about church that haven't changed a bit. I see all the familiar faces in the congregation, Sunday school was the same group you've been with all summer, and things are all still in the same place as last week.
With my new remote, I can get new and different information about the shows I'm watching, and I can find out about the different channels, and I couldn't do that before, so I'm learning something new with the change at my house. I'm sure we're going to learn something new and different from Pastor Matthew too. Change is an adventure, and we need to trust that the changes God brings our way are part of His plan for us.

I'm not used to the remote yet. I have to hold it at arm's length and then some to see some of the abbreviations (and even then I don't know what they all mean yet), but I can still find CSI reruns to entertain me while I cook dinner, and that's what counts, I guess.
It's probably a good thing that the cable guy came. I knew I wanted to have my message be about change, but I was going to take in baby pictures of the kids and embarrass the heck out of them...