Planting Seeds

I walked outside through the front door to find this:

My Mom planting flowers with Claire, Luke & Caleb.

Something about taking the time to personally plant flowers from seeds makes everything seem right with the world. Why do we get such a rush of accomplishment to bury a little seed and then wait? Why when the seeds actually come up do we feel like we've really done something? And why aren't we angry when the blossoms all fade and fall to the ground at the end of the season?

I've come to believe that planting is an art and also a learned skill. And we all need someone who's artistic and who's a natural teacher in our lives. That's why God gave me my Mom.
She's the best there is. She's patient and kind. She's a fantastic listener. She's slow to anger--I mean really, really slow. Not in some dopey, too-laid-back kind of way, but in the slow-to-cast judgment, waits to hear people out, gives people the benefit of the doubt kind of way. Seriously. If you don't know her, it would drastically improve your life to make it happen. And my mom's got a green thumb. Bonus!

Some people bury seeds because they understand microbiology and can calculate to the hour precisely what happens to a seed to turn it into a flower. Some people bury seeds because they're optimists like me and hope something will grow. Some people bury seeds because it's Spring and that's what you're supposed to do when it's Spring. My kids are burying seeds because someone took time to teach them about planting. Someone wanted them to have that little rush of spirit when the first leaf pops out. My fabulous Mom. She's the best!

So you plant the seeds.


You smush 'em down.

Then you wait.

The waiting part of planting is hard. Especially if you're four years old. (Or if you have some issues with control that you haven't worked out yet.) But it really helps to talk a person through the waiting. It goes something like this. "This is when we wait. It might take awhile. Some seeds might come up faster than others. I've even heard of some seeds that lay dormant and then come up next year. We just have to wait and see"

Waiting is hard to do in a lot of situations. Say like . . .life itself! But it really helps to have someone close by telling you good things are going to come when the waitings over. In my own life, my Mom has helped fill the waiting times with peace because she reminds me of God's purposes. Now is the time to wait. That's why God gave me my Mom. She's the best!

I think God knew what He was doing when He put planting, reaping, seed time, harvest, and sowing analogies in the Bible. The concepts of how seeds are buried, grow, die, are buried again, and grow again continues to amaze and challenge me.

I'm thankful my Mom took time to plant seeds with my kiddos, but I'm more grateful for the seeds she's been planting in all of our hearts. She really is the best. I don't know how or why God chose to give me the best Mom on the planet, but He did.

Redneck Reality: In Suburbia

Once upon a time there was a cute little family of five that lived in Suburbia, North Texas. The Dada, the Mama, the Sister and the Twins. They all lived happily in a charming little house, close to, but not in, the ghetto of Suburbia. Also close to, but not in, a highly wooded area.

One day, the Mama took Sister to school. She loaded up the baby Twins, and happily commenced upon the ritual of school drop-off in this post-post-modern, ideal little world. After the uneventful excursion, she did some grocery shopping and returned home. Upon entering their humble abode, she instructed the Twins to climb into their highchairs while Mama put away the groceries and heated up lunch. While she hummed a sweet little tune and prepared a nutritious meal of mac & cheese and freshly diced strawberries, Mama thought about what a nice day it was turning out to be. The sun was shining, the children were cooperative, and the scale that morning said Mama was losing weight!

After her first trip to the dining room to deposit little plastic plates of food and little tiny utensils to the twins, Mama's day took a drastic turn for the worse. Upon returning to the kitchen, Mama noticed a flicker in her peripheral vision. A slight, tiny flicker. A movement ever so quick, yet real. She turned her whole body to get a second glance and suddenly her humming stopped. She gasped. Froze. Then started to shake. What lay in front of her was too unbelievable to exist inside of her perfect little day in Suburbia. There, on her counter, just next to her sink lay a sleeping rat. A RAT! A real, live, SLEEPING rat! It's 9 inch long tail swung lazily into her sink. It's little rising and falling abdomen marking it's deep sleep had been the flicker.

A bazillion thoughts began to scream within her mind. How did it get here? Didn't I just wash strawberries in that sink? How do I get rid of it? I can't wake it because it would run away into some other place of my cute little house! I can't kill it! I couldn't bear to watch a rat bleed onto my counter! I can't wake it up because it might move, but I can't leave it there because it might wake up! What do I do??????!!!!!! While on the inside, Mama's thoughts were yelling, on the outside she was not making a noise. Instead, she tiptoed back to the dining room and ever so quietly removed the Twins' highchair trays. With the stealth of a mouse, I mean, a Navy seal, she took the boys out of their seats and did the only logical thing. Mama and the Twins quietly, but quickly, ran to boys' bedroom, closed the door and climbed onto the bunk bed. Drawing strength from the safety that comes from being a closed door away from the sleeping rat on the counter, Mama called Dada on his cell phone.

The following is a true account of their conversation:

Dada: Hello
Mama: (whispering) You have to come home.

Dada: I can't hear you.
Mama: (whispering through tears) You have to come home.

Dada: What's wrong?! What's happened?! Jody are you okay?!
Mama: There's a rat. In our house. On the counter.

Dada: A what?
Mama: (more tears, still whispering) A rat. You must come. The boys and I are hiding on the bunk bed. We can't get up. You have to come. I have to pick up Sister from school, but I can't open the door until it's gone. I can't. I really, really can't.

Dada: I'll be there as soon as I can
Mama: (whisper yelling) THAT IS NOT SOON ENOUGH! I'M SERIOUS!! I CAN'T DO THIS!

Dada: Really, honey, I'm on my way now.
Mama: Okay, thanks. I love you

Dada: See you soon.

Mama and the Twins continued their self-enforced hideout even when they heard Dada come in the front door. The Twins wanted to run to see their father, but Mama quickly grabbed their chubby little arms and pulled them to herself. "We must stay here until Dada takes care of it!"

So they waited, and they quietly sang songs because Mama did not want to hear what it sounds like for her husband to dispose of the rat, nor did she want to hear the sounds a rat would make when it was being disposed of.

After what seemed to be too little of time for a person to take care of such a drastic, highly terrifying situation, Dada opened the door to the hideout and said the coast was clear.

Mama asked to please not be told any details of the disposal, but she did want to know that the animal was dead, not merely released. Dada said, "I didn't kill it. You did. There was a half-chewed ibuprofen on the counter next to the sleeping rat! It must have been in some kind of coma when I stuck a knife in it's neck because it didn't even move."

Upon confirmation of death, the Mama and the Dada began their search of the rest of the house for they had been told, where there is one, there are usually more.

What they found changed their own views of themselves for the rest of their lives. They found the rat's home behind their sofa! The evidence of habitation was a half-chewed doll shoe, a half-chewed milk carton lid, a half-chewed little green army man and a nerf ball ripped to shreds. That day, in the midst of Suburbia, in a charming little house, the definition of a Pack Rat slammed into the face of Mama and Dada.

After complete removal of debris, vacuuming, and floor scrubbing Mama and Dada and Sister and the Twins tried to go back to the way life was before. They tried to forget that awful day. They tried to pretend like they were the same people they were before. But deep down, everything was different. There was a feeling of violation and grossness that haunted them until the day they moved.

And in case you were wondering, the Twins never did get lunch, just some granola bars on the way to pick up Sister from school.

Blast from the Past: Fire Ants

Anybody remember this?


Two years ago this week, my then-two year old, Luke, was attacked by fire ants at the park next to our house in Texas. His leg from ankle to knee was COVERED in them when I picked him up and ran into the splash pad to wash them off with water. When we got to the ER he was swollen everywhere but his face and a bright red rash covered his whole body. Yikes! What a scare! He had 67 bites on one leg.

Thankfully he did not have a respiratory reaction to the bites, thus his airway was never blocked and the Dr. told us it probably means he'll never have a respiratory reaction. Just lots of benedryl and Ib for the pain.

Anyway, I found these pics in the archives of my photo folders from two years ago. And they brought a flood of memories and thoughts.


One, was how I really felt like a mother when I was bandaging my little boy's owies. I remember having the thought that this is something he's going to remember for the rest of his life. And I'm glad I'll be in that memory as the tender loving hands who wrapped and prayed for his leg . . .


And two, was look how thin I was! This may not look thin to some of you. But trust me, if you saw me now you would say that was thin.

(I'm tellin' ya vanity is my sin of snare and concern! Which is so funny because you wouldn't know that by looking at me 5 out of 7 days a week, when I don't fix my hair, or put on makeup or get out my pajamas until 11:00. But deep down, somewhere inside, I do care how I look) This photo was taken after 10 months of working out and losing 16 pounds! I'm now inspired to return to that shadow of what I look like today. If only my dear South African friend, Karen, was here to be my work out buddy! Oh! What fun we had at the gym! Thanks, girl!

No. I'm not posting before and after photos. Just look at this picture as the waaaaay before and someday I'll post a picture of the waaaaay after.

Okay, now stop looking at me and look at that sweet, sweet smile from my diaper-clad boy.
The photo was really supposed to be all about him. I'm sure when Mark snapped the picture he was never intending for me to use it to tell the world how much weight I've gained after my fourth baby.

*** This is your last chance to enter my contest to win a Gap gift card! The competition is close and I'm sure the 4 people who've entered are really hoping no one else leaves a response because 1 in 4 are pretty good odds. Winner to be announced sometime tonight. No, I don't know what time. It depends on when I get back to the computer again. Definitely after 5, probably after 8. Usually before 11:00.

Big Brother

So the other day, (which you know in the blog world can mean anywhere from yesterday to last year) I was talking with my little brother who is also my banker and actually he's my big brother, too, because he's taller than me. (This is him right after I told him I was gonna blog about this. Actually, this is the second picture. In the first one he wasn't smiling and he was giving me that please-don't-embarrass-the family look. But then, I think he realized I was seriously gonna blog it, because I drug out my camera to take his picture. Then he smiled. I think he's so cool. One of my favorite brothers.)

So we were discussing our upcoming economic stimulus checks, and I mentioned I hadn't gotten mine yet. He was concerned for me because it probably should have shown up in my account by then.
Anyway, I told him we didn't do the direct deposit because I didn't want to give the government my bank account info or my social security number. Don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful for our government and all the freedoms it provides for us, but I just don't plan to hand over all the identifying info about me and family to just anyone. He looked at me like, What???????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Jody, they already have your social security number, they gave it to you!" And you e-filed your taxes last year, so they already have your bank info, too!

Oh yeah. Hmmm . . .

"The times . . they are a changin'"

Wadduya think? Got me a new look 'round here. Why? Well, if you must know it's because I'm a Sanguine Choleric or a Choleric Sanguine. And one of the begetting sins of people with my personality type is pride. I've said it before, I'll say it again. It's not a secret if you know anybody who's like me.

But pride comes across in vast ways. One of my ways (because I do feel somehow liberated to spread all the little secrets of my life) is vanity. Vanity, vanity it's all vanity. Now, this does not mean I spend hours getting ready in the morning, or put on makeup every day or am afraid to have my picture taken when I look awful. On the contrary, sometimes people who are vain like to have their pictures taken and like to look in the mirror and like to think they're doing okay in the looks department. This may or may not be true. It's just all in the mind.

So how does my vanity affect my blog? I don't look good in beige. I can't wear khaki or tan or light brown, or off-white. No oatmeal or neutral, light earth tones. I've got this olive-y skin and I just can't do it. It makes my skin look totally wiped out and when I wear that color, I looked wiped out and people ask me if I'm sick. Or if I'm tired. Or if I need to go lie down. Or say, "That poor girl just doesn't know how to pick colors that work with her skin tone. Poor thing."

AND, my children have also inherited this skin coloring from me. So my last blog color was not working for me because I never liked how our skin looked with the background. Honestly, every time I posted a picture with skin I thought, "I wish that had a white background." But I really liked the brown and the other aspects of the template. So I stuck with it while I shopped around for a new template.

There. That's the truth. Call me shallow. Call me unspiritual. Call me whatever you wish, but please don't call me washed out!

And in honor of this great occasion, I'm giving away a prize! In the comments section, post what color you cannot wear. The color that makes people think you look sick, or need to lie down. The color that you keep trying to wear because it's so en vogue, but cannot because you think too highly of yourself to fall to the fickle whims of the fashion industry.

The prize? A $25 gift card to my favorite store (besides Goodwill and Ross)--the GAP. So you've got all week to leave comments. The winner will be selected at random on Friday!

Dandelion Dreams

Doesn't this bring back memories? I'm sure everyone living in North America has at one point or another blew on a dandelion. If you haven't, I'd like to hear about it. The why? The how? The intricate details of your vacant childhood.

Sometimes, we make wishes before we puff up our cheeks. Other times we like to see how far the seeds fly. When you become a homeowner, with a yard, how far weed seeds will fly is no longer of interest to you. And you have to restrain yourself from telling the children to please not blow weed seeds all over your yard. I know this. I once was a child. I thought like a child. I acted like a child. Now, I'm an adult. I act like an adult. And though I have the impulse to tell children to not blow dandelion seeds, I'm proud to admit I've never said a word. I actually encourage them to do it because it's so much a part of childhood. And it's also really fun to catch the moment with the camera.

Often, on a photo shoot, I'll encourage the child to pick one and blow. Sometimes the little seeds glisten in the wind like this one.

Isn't that cute in an every-kid's-done-it-sort of way?

But, honestly, for the photos of Claire blowing the dandelion, I didn't coach her. I just happened to be standing close by with my camera. But it was pure innocent, childhood.


And so was this reaction . . .

Uh! It didn't work!

Sometimes anticipated joys disappoint. Sometimes you think a things gonna move and it doesn't. Sometimes you're whimsically wandering through the woods of life, see something beautiful, claim it as your own and then Poof! Nothing. These are the lessons one can learn from a dandelion that didn't work.

A Perfect Day

Nothin's better than my boy bringing me a bouquet of dandelions! I LOVE it!

People always ask me how I tell the twins apart. And the truth is . . . . their personalities! But you have to stay on top of your game to do it that way. Because they swap personalities every over month or so.

What's so fun about Caleb these days is that he's learned to use his eyebrows. And he knows it! So when he's expressing something (especially when Luke has told on him and he's trying to present his closing argument before I judge) he'll hold his mouth just so and raise his eyebrows and wait for the effect to take place. And then when I can no longer hold my smile in, I have to turn away and pretend to cough so I can turn back and look him straight in the face and dole out the appropriate consequence.

And then he goes to collect dandelions . . . this is what dreams are made of!

Adventures with Uncle BJ: Fishing, Part II

Finally, I'm getting back to telling all about our great adventure with Uncle BJ.
So where we left off was with Mark kissing the first fish and me taking lots of pictures and neglecting the children.

Mark with fish


Babies neglected

But I did put my camera down to actually interact with the kids. When I did that, my delightful sister-in-law, M, (also an avid photographer) picked it up and put me in some photos.

Here's me proving that I haven't picked up a fishing pole for 15 years.
Really, truly that is an embarrassing shot. I don't know how a person is supposed to cast, but I'm sure that's not it. Actually, I know that's not it because the hook landed approximately 32 inches in front of my left foot. Instead of half way across the pond like my brother's.

So, after my kids realized I couldn't actually get the hook in the water, they stopped asking me for help and turned back to Uncle BJ. And I resumed my role as cheerleader.

Here's Luke with his great catch, and me by his side encouraging him to keep reeling it in.


However, this is me briefly leaping over into photographer mode with my oh so subtle, "Are you getting this?" look to sister behind the camera.


But I quickly return to cheerleader mode and bubble with excitement for Luke's prized catch.

And I know, we need to take a break and discuss my hair. Yes, I realize it has no product in it. It's a large, frizzy, overwhemling mass encompassing my face and half my back. And it was soooo hot, I couldn't stand it, but I forgot my hair thing! Or lost my hair thing. Or someone stole the hair thing out of my pocket. All I know is we got on the fishing trip where I was planning to put my hair up all to no avail because I couldn't find a hair thing. Or even a pencil!

Why? You ask, didn't I just put it up before we left? Because I knew we were going to be driving for about an hour before we got there and I was hoping to relax a little with my eyes closed while Mark drove and our four lovely children listened to Bible Adventures on a CD. And do you know how uncomfortable it is to try to lay your head back on a minivan headrest with a ponytail in it? VERY uncomfortable. But because I was planning to put it up I neither put any de-frizzing product in it or bothered to do anything else with it. Hence, pictures with frizzy, huge hair.

And I'm not wearing makeup, besides yesterday's mascara. There. I've posted un-edited bad pictures of me. This helps me stay humble. And for the few of you who've emailed saying, "Looks like you've got it all together. Wish I was like that." Listen, babe, we're all just doin' the best we can. And the best I could that day was day-old eyes and frizzy hair. Just tellin' it like it is.

But enough about me, let's look at this beauty instead.
This is my adorable niece. Uncle BJ's daughter. She's still getting used to the fishing thing.

This is her "catching a fish with daddy". Notice she's about 5 feet away from the fishing pole.

She's thinking, "Mommy, I'm not so sure about this."

Then when Uncle BJ actually catches the fish she RUNS away as fast as she can. No, he's not actually chasing her with it. But it sure looks that way! :)

She's saying, "Nooooo, noooo, noooo" during this picture. I'm telling you, she's ADORABLE.

One of the few secrets about Uncle BJ that not many people know is that he's a really good dancer. And he uses his moves no matter what he's doing.


Here he is with Salsa arms.


That boy's got some moves!

And here he is with his super studly pink Barbie pole that lights up when you cast.

Okay, I must stop jesting about Uncle BJ. He's so fabulous and I want him to take us again, so I'll stop.

Here's the glorious result of our Adventure with Uncle BJ.
Three kiddos proud as punch about their catch!


And here's my boy, looking like a boy instead of my baby. Something about this just tugs at my heart.

Thanks Uncle BJ for taking us on our fishing adventure! And Aunt M for the wiener roast! And Miss Adorable for being so much fun to be with! We love you!

On Life, Love, and Parenting

On the way home from working on our new Old House today --by working on, I mean walking around holding the baby while Mark, and my mom, and my dad, and Mark's dad and a hired worker all are very busy fixing things but I just walk around and hold the baby and tell the big kids to go out and pick up sticks from the backyard. There are no toys or much to do for the kids. But they contribute to the new Old House by helping with the landscaping. And while they're busy, I usually have about 94 seconds in which to listen to Mark make decisions about what should go where, and who can do what tasks and when we'll be ready to put the walls up. All the while, doing the very important job of holding the baby and making cute little sounds in her ears and saying, "Pretty Pretty". A lot. See? Everyone's got their job.-- Anyway, on the way home from that, Claire said, "I can't wait till I'm a mommy." Brief pause. "Because then my children will obey me."

Hmmm? I was a little taken aback by that observation, but before I had time to probe further into her little psyche, she clued me in on what was going on in her mind.

"Like, when it's time for bed and I'm trying to go to sleep and I tell them to stop talking, but they don't. They don't listen to me." (While we're in our transitional living space, Claire and the twins share a room. She really misses the quietness of her own room. ) Back to Claire's observations, "But when you come in the room and say Stop, they stop."

Here's where I get a little smile on my face and I'm glad she can't see because I'm driving and she's sitting behind me. I giggle because I'm having lots of thoughts about why they stop. And even though I'm afraid to hear the answer, I ask Claire, "Why do you think they stop when I say it?"

Then my chuckle turns to a cringe and I sort of shrink down in my seat and duck my head because I suddenly changed my mind and don't want to hear my daughter put words to the various ways I've behaved this week. I'm waiting for:
a. 'Because you can spank them', or
b. 'Because you yelled at them yesterday', or here's the worst consequence,
c. 'Because you'll take their blankies away!'

But she didn't say any of that.

Here's what she said, "Because they love you more than they love me."
And then she was silent and I was speechless.

Maybe for some of you, that doesn't really mean anything. But as for me, I was flabbergasted and shocked and curiously, deliriously happy that she gets it! We've been very purposefully parenting with a Growing Kids perspective for 4 years now and She really gets it! All this parenting mumbo-jumbo we're doing and working on and teach and live and repeat . . .she really gets it!

That was one of the best moments in parenting yet! My six year old, let me say it again,


THIS six year old knows that obedience comes from love. And if she understands that in the parent-child relationship, she is well on her way to understanding how to grow to a woman after God's own heart.

I know many a 30 year old who think obedience comes from fear. How many times have I done what was right only because I was afraid of the consequence of doing what's wrong? Or do you hear about someone doing something good to make up for the bad they've done? Neither are examples of obedience born from love.

But that's what God wants from us. Obedience because we love him. That's what I want from my children. For them to obey me because our relationship is worth the sacrifice of their own sometimes strong and sometimes whimsical, impulsive ideas. That is love. Laying down your life for another's. Laying down what you want, because you love the other person.

I'm delightfully blessed to be a mother today. And thankful that God gave me a tiny peak into what I'm producing.

If you, too, are on this parenting journey, take heart! You are building into eternity. The thing about kids is that they grow into adults. These little snotty noses and million questions and temper tantrums aren't alien beings. Most of us prayed to have children. I prayed for mine. I wanted them long before I ever became their mommy. Don't give up on them today because they don't yet look like the fully-adjusted, loving-God adult they're going to be.

Don't throw in the towel on parenting by saying it's too much work to teach obedience, patience, love. Make their journey to God a short one. Teach them obedience. Not because they're scared of you, but because they love you. Or maybe you've never learned that yourself. We love God by doing what he says. Period. You can't teach it, until you do it. Don't you wish someone taught you that when you were 6 instead of having to figure it out on your own in a state of post-party nausea at the age of 24?

All of that to say, SHE GETS IT!!!!! That makes me happy. And in case she doesn't remember tomorrow what she said today, or she revokes that answer and goes with c. you'll take their blankies away, I've now recorded it in cyberspace so I have a zillion witnesses. :)

Okay, stepping off my soapbox, now. How did that get in here?! I'm gonna go work on that Adventures with Uncle BJ post.

Ditto

Remember when I posted a letter to the cable internet guy? Ditto. The internet on my computer has been down since Friday. Right now it's working again. But I don't know for how long. You never know with my friend the cable internet guy. He must be a Sanguine like me and forget to keep in touch or follow thru on long distant relationships. I'm sure he's just a real busy guy with a family to take care of and a new old house to fix up.

So, one day soon. (Hopefully, later today) I'll try to finish up my Adventures with Uncle BJ. I know ya'll've (now there's a Texas word for you!) been fishin' for it . . .

Adventures with Uncle BJ: Fishing

Pre-script (is there such a thing?)

Adventures with Uncle B just got changed to Adventures with Uncle BJ because we all call him by his initials, BJ, already! Shortening the already shortened name is just messing with my mind and I can't get used to it. So I've sabotaged my vain attempt at giving some anonymity to my second youngest brother and he, like me, is just going to have to come to grips with the fact that if anyone really wanted to track him down and stalk him, they now have access to his middle initial as well. Unfortunately for him, everyone already calls him that so it's his name. Whereas, I can honestly say no one has ever called me JM.

Sorry, Beej. Oh darn! Now I just told you his nickname, too!
I better start this post before I get in any more trouble!

Two months ago I was at Target with my four children (honestly, I took ALL of them shopping). We were shopping for my two nieces birthday presents. (Another confession, I have yet to give either of those nieces their presents! Their birthdays were in March! I thought all my gifts were always late because we lived in Texas. But now, the truth is out that I'm just a flake sometimes. Sorry, girls. Aunt Jody really does love you!) And while we were casually browsing in the sporting goods section we came across fishing poles. Having spent many, many hours fishing with my family growing up I thought it'd be perfect to get fishing poles for each of them. So we came home with a Diego, a Cars, and a Barbie fishing pole. (The Barbie one even lights up when you cast).

Of course, the children thought we'd go fishing the next day. A few things were detrimental to that notion.

1. It was still 28 degrees outside.
2. Neither Mark or I are very schooled in how to fish
3. We didn't know where to fish
4. It was still 28 degrees outside

But, boy! those poles sure seemed like a fun idea! After many hours of pretend fishing with their new poles and showing them to each relative who walked in the door, finally Uncle BJ said he'd take them fishing sometime.

Sometime in the mind of a child translates to any minute now. And they have talked about going fishing with Uncle BJ daily for two months.

It finally warmed up and we all went fishing! Mark even took off work early so he could learn to, I mean, go fishing with us.

Here's Uncle BJ opening the gate to the great adventure that awaits -- Fishing!

This is what Redneck tailgating looks like. Forget the food, just make sure you've got some bait. Oh,wait. We don't have any bait yet. Uncle BJ said we'd look for it when we got there.

Looking for worms. You gotta turn over a bunch a logs and pick 'em up real fast before they slither back into the dirt.

This is the face my children make when they hold a worm.

Here's it again.
I don't know why they do that.

Uncle BJ showing Luke how to put the worm on the hook. I thought maybe the kids would get the hang of this and become self-sufficient fishers. But, no. We had to put all the worms on, help them with casting and take all the fish off the hooks for them. I use the term we very loosely. Should probably just change that to they - Uncle BJ and Mark. Oh, come on! I was holding the camera! Or holding my adorable niece.

So here we all are fishing on the bank (or is it off the bank?) on our great fishing adventure! We even caught fish. Well, the kids caught fish. Mark and Uncle BJ were too busy running back and forth from baiting, casting, and de-hooking the fish to actually throw a line in for themselves. But Mark did commemorate the first catch with a kiss. Not to me, to the fish. I'm not sure where he got that idea. I've been fishing many times, but never,ever thought to kiss the fish. But I guess that's what kind of guy Mark is. He gives all of himself to the task and relishes in the victory when it's done. Who could ask for more?


And with this super macho picture of my hunky husband making out with a fish, I gotta run. I've gotta go homeschool, fold laundry, feed the baby and read my Bible. I'll have to finish up this adventure post tomorrow!

Adventures with Uncle B!

We took a little adventure with Brother B the other day. Yes, the same Brother B who is now famous (or perhaps infamous) because of the whole turkey-slaughter thing. Brother B is actually quickly becoming favorite Uncle B. So maybe we'll start to call him that until one of the other uncles (they've got 6 within 1 hour from here) seriously indulges and entertains my 4 kiddos for hours at a time. (Let the competition begin!)

Our adventure was very fun! We got fed, got dirty, got slimy, and got ice cream all within 4 hours. But I can't tell you anymore about it until I narrow down the 141 pictures we took to some kind of reasonable number to post. I'm thinking like 15 or so.

But this is a picture I took during our adventure that had nothing to do with our adventure.


In fact, no one else even saw this view. And when we got home and I was showing Mark the picture, he said, 'Where was that?'. He walked by it twice, but when one's mind is so engaged in the excitement of being with Uncle B, one cannot focus on the peripheral scenery. Unless one just happens to be more devoted to one's camera than to one's child who almost fell into the lake while she was busy taking pictures and feeding the baby at the same time.

So I'm gonna work on widdlin' down the photos for the next post about Adventures with Uncle B.

She lost her 1st Tooth!

Claire lost her first tooth! She's a month and half from her 7th birthday and is just now loosing her first tooth. What I think is exceedingly interesting is that her tooth became loose in the same month that her first tooth came in.
Now, people have different reactions to teeth. Some get very queasy in the stomach when they see wigglin' teeth - like ME. It took all of my intestinal fortitude to be encouraging to Claire when she'd show me the latest progress in wiggling the tooth out. EVERYthing in me wanted to turn my head and gag, but most of the time I swallowed that growing knot in my throat and said, 'Cool, Claire! I bet it'll be out any day now.' (Okay, honestly, I did try to look busy doing something else, so I could kind of say it over my shoulder. But only a couple times! A few times I even looked right at her while she rolled it around with her tongue. Makes me cringe just thinking about it!)

Now, if all of my scrapbooks and personal photos were not in a storage shed 20 miles from me and hundreds of miles from real civilization, I could show you a picture of her first tooth coming in and this one falling out. It's a real cool idea that my very best friend chronicled in one of her scrapbooks and I always wanted to do when my girl lost her tooth.

Maybe I'll try that when Lydia's first tooth falls out. I can't do it with the twins because I don't have pictures of their first teeth. I was too busy with my 3 year old and my twin babies to think about taking pictures. So I hope that makes all you other mothers feel better in case you ever forgot to take pictures of semi-important, though very normal events that happen to every person on the planet.

Back to the Baby

I know, I know, I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have posted bloody, dead animal pictures on my blog. All people who knew me from TX have emailed and expressed their horror at the woman I've become. But actually, I was definitely the girl who grew up with bloody animals in her backyard long before I was the woman who made weekly trips to babyGap looking for bargains. That is the reality. But to calm the stomachs of all my city-folk campadres, lets go back to pictures of the baby.

Here's our Pretty Pretty with late afternoon sun radiating off her face.

I just love her wide-eyed expression in this one. I think she's wondering how a person can hold a camera to their eye for 15 min without coming up for air. She's wondering what happened to her Mommy's face. Has it grown a large black appendage that keeps going click, click-click, click-click-click?

She's loves her fingers. Doesn't really suck on them, just chews on them. Chews on everything. No teeth, just lots of chewing.


This picture is going on the wall of Lydia's room in our new Old House in a collection of Lydia in black and white. With white frames. Hung from the picture rail. Above the bead board, on a canvas of Diminutive Pink wall. Unfortunately, this is what that rooms looks like now. . .



Nobody can say I lack for vision!

That's my FABULOUS sister-in-law steaming the final layer of wallpaper off of Lydia's room. You could never imagine how wonderful it is to have someone who enjoys helping steam wallpaper. Most people cringe, duck their head, and quietly exit the room as soon as you mention the words 'take down wallpaper'. But not this girl! She helped sooo much and sooo often and even stayed and did it alone when I was needed to tend to the children.

If you don't have a sister-in-law like this, you are missing one of the true joys in life. If you have a brother, start praying he marries someone like this. Or pray that your husband's brother marries someone like this. Or if you don't have any more unmarried brothers, pray that your son marries someone like this so at least your daughter can have a sister-in-law like this. I'm serious.

And a final photo for you to save as the wallpaper on your desktop. (See, I had to throw in the word wallpaper one more time!)
Too adorable to leave out despite the 19-something old car in the background. Just look past that and feast your eyes on those little bubbles glistening in the sun.