For the second week in a row, I realized last night after 9 p.m. that we only had a half gallon of milk left and Friday is our cold cereal morning.
"Durn," I commented, under my breath. Don overheard me and asked what the problem was. I explained and he responded,
"That's because YOU did the grocery shopping!"
Not too pleased with that response, and privately suspecting him of jealousy since HE usually does the shopping, I asked him what he meant.
"You never buy enough milk when you shop."
Perhaps that's because it'd be cheaper to buy the cow! I ought to pick one up at a local farm and tether her in the backyard. It's pretty mild in Georgia - no need for a barn. I could throw her a few hay bales periodically and just think of all the great fertilizer I'd have, not to mention fresh milk for relatively free.
Lest you think I'm joking, it's really worth considering. When a gallon of milk costs more than crude oil or gas, it's high time to rethink our options.
Jack-and-the-Beanstalk's giant had the goose that laid the golden egg. Gumby's dog cries real pearls when he listens to the Clay Boy's music. Why can't I have a cow that produces liquid diamonds when milked?
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Canine Obedience
Picked the kids up from school today. Dane had a field trip to a farm to see Monarch butterflies. They also saw a water snake in a pond and lots of other cool stuff and made some butterfly crafts. Very fun day for him.
He was clamoring to tell me all about his field trip, which delighted me. Then I asked Deanna about her day. Suddenly, from the back of the van, Daelyn (who had been home alone with me for 2 hours and miraculously forgot about this until just that moment) announced that he had gotten his name on the board.
Now, before Daelyn started Kindergarten, I was convinced that the teacher would need IV's every afternoon after spending several hours with my son. Turns out, he's really very good. He sits quietly, listens to directions, and doesn't jump out of his seat constantly. This was a huge surprise to me. He's way better at school than at home. Maybe all the work I've done with him really DID get through.
He got his name on the board for leaning back in his chair with two legs off the ground. I stay on top of my children constantly at home about that. It breaks the chair legs and weakens the backs of the chairs and we can't afford new furniture because they feel like leaning (I've got the lecture down pat). Scoot your chair up or back, whichever you need to keep all four legs firmly planted on the floor.
The last time he got his name on the board (last and only other time) was when they were having reading groups last week. The teacher has got to be able to work with one group of children at a time, so the others have fun stuff to do, like Play-doh, but they are not allowed to speak. She is very unforgiving about talking during reading group - because she HAS to be. It can get out-of-hand very quickly if she doesn't keep tight order while she's working with just a few children.
Apparently, she had explained to them that they were not allowed to talk. Then, while working with one group, she heard someone talking.
"Who was that talking?" she asked. (She called me later to explain why Daelyn had gotten a frowny face for the day so I wouldn't freak out and told me the whole story - she's very thoughtful about the parents.)
"It was me, Mrs. Phillips," Daelyn admitted. She looked around and her parent-helper for the day wasn't in the classroom.
"Daelyn, go put your name on the board," she directed, then told me in astonishment that he got his little self up from his desk, went to the board and scratched a few letters on it in chalk that stood for his name. No complaints, no rationalization, no fussing. Just went and put his own name on the board. She was quite impressed, but it didn't compare to how favorably impressed I was.
Today, he got his name on the board for the second time. Kindergarten is an adjustsment and I don't expect he'll never get in trouble, but I sure hope it's less frequent that weekly in the future.
After Daelyn told us his story in the van, I explained that, when in school, you must respond the first time you're told. Then, to take some of the sting out of a mild scolding on top of being disciplined in school, I turned to the dog, who was sitting in the front passenger's seat.
"And when you're in school," I told him loudly so everyone in the van could hear, "if you don't SIT the first time you're told, you'll get your name on the board, Donovan."
Laughter all around. You could feel the tension break. Then Daelyn spoke up from the back of the van.
"Mama," he asked, "when does Donovan start school?"
He was clamoring to tell me all about his field trip, which delighted me. Then I asked Deanna about her day. Suddenly, from the back of the van, Daelyn (who had been home alone with me for 2 hours and miraculously forgot about this until just that moment) announced that he had gotten his name on the board.
Now, before Daelyn started Kindergarten, I was convinced that the teacher would need IV's every afternoon after spending several hours with my son. Turns out, he's really very good. He sits quietly, listens to directions, and doesn't jump out of his seat constantly. This was a huge surprise to me. He's way better at school than at home. Maybe all the work I've done with him really DID get through.
He got his name on the board for leaning back in his chair with two legs off the ground. I stay on top of my children constantly at home about that. It breaks the chair legs and weakens the backs of the chairs and we can't afford new furniture because they feel like leaning (I've got the lecture down pat). Scoot your chair up or back, whichever you need to keep all four legs firmly planted on the floor.
The last time he got his name on the board (last and only other time) was when they were having reading groups last week. The teacher has got to be able to work with one group of children at a time, so the others have fun stuff to do, like Play-doh, but they are not allowed to speak. She is very unforgiving about talking during reading group - because she HAS to be. It can get out-of-hand very quickly if she doesn't keep tight order while she's working with just a few children.
Apparently, she had explained to them that they were not allowed to talk. Then, while working with one group, she heard someone talking.
"Who was that talking?" she asked. (She called me later to explain why Daelyn had gotten a frowny face for the day so I wouldn't freak out and told me the whole story - she's very thoughtful about the parents.)
"It was me, Mrs. Phillips," Daelyn admitted. She looked around and her parent-helper for the day wasn't in the classroom.
"Daelyn, go put your name on the board," she directed, then told me in astonishment that he got his little self up from his desk, went to the board and scratched a few letters on it in chalk that stood for his name. No complaints, no rationalization, no fussing. Just went and put his own name on the board. She was quite impressed, but it didn't compare to how favorably impressed I was.
Today, he got his name on the board for the second time. Kindergarten is an adjustsment and I don't expect he'll never get in trouble, but I sure hope it's less frequent that weekly in the future.
After Daelyn told us his story in the van, I explained that, when in school, you must respond the first time you're told. Then, to take some of the sting out of a mild scolding on top of being disciplined in school, I turned to the dog, who was sitting in the front passenger's seat.
"And when you're in school," I told him loudly so everyone in the van could hear, "if you don't SIT the first time you're told, you'll get your name on the board, Donovan."
Laughter all around. You could feel the tension break. Then Daelyn spoke up from the back of the van.
"Mama," he asked, "when does Donovan start school?"
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Birthday Blues
Today is Don's birthday. He's fmphphth - something (of course, masking your words is far more important with women than with men). He got up early and left for work. He says he kissed me before he left. I have vague recollections of smooching a couple of times with somebody - could have been the dog - but Don says it was him. Sure couldn't prove it by me.
From work this evening, he went straight to the church for the first Handbell Rehearsal of the season. Last week, in desperation to figure out how to honor him, I begged him for a plan. Last night we had a meeting, tomorrow we have a Prayer Meeting. Tonight, while he and the children were at church, I had a planning meeting for a Christmas Festival. How could we possibly do anything for Don's birthday and WHAT DID HE WANT TO DO?
He suggested we go out to dinner this Friday for Mexican. It seemed like a reasonable plan. I called him this morning before he arrived at work and sang Happy Birthday to him. I called him this afternoon to tell him Happy Birthday - that's when he witnessed to the kissing this morning. When I dropped the children off at church for Choir, I reminded them to tell all the Handbell Ringers that it was Daddy's birthday so they could sing to him. And I hurried home from my meeting to greet my sweet birthday guy. For today, it'll have to do.
I'm glad he's not as intense about his birthday as I am. I would have never been satisfied with no celebration on "the day".
Happy Birthday anyway, my love, and at least fmphphth more to come.
From work this evening, he went straight to the church for the first Handbell Rehearsal of the season. Last week, in desperation to figure out how to honor him, I begged him for a plan. Last night we had a meeting, tomorrow we have a Prayer Meeting. Tonight, while he and the children were at church, I had a planning meeting for a Christmas Festival. How could we possibly do anything for Don's birthday and WHAT DID HE WANT TO DO?
He suggested we go out to dinner this Friday for Mexican. It seemed like a reasonable plan. I called him this morning before he arrived at work and sang Happy Birthday to him. I called him this afternoon to tell him Happy Birthday - that's when he witnessed to the kissing this morning. When I dropped the children off at church for Choir, I reminded them to tell all the Handbell Ringers that it was Daddy's birthday so they could sing to him. And I hurried home from my meeting to greet my sweet birthday guy. For today, it'll have to do.
I'm glad he's not as intense about his birthday as I am. I would have never been satisfied with no celebration on "the day".
Happy Birthday anyway, my love, and at least fmphphth more to come.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Fortitude - an important inheritance
There's an old saying, "Life is hard . . . and then you die." Somewhat negative, but true overall.
Some people just seem to struggle with harder things than others. There's always the loss of parents, children growing up and leaving home, your health or that of your spouse deteriorating. Those are normal difficult things that EVERYONE experiences. But some people have harder things in their lives that they have to live through - the death of a child, a spouse becoming an invalid very young, divorce or unfaithfulness, their children being abused or falling into drug addiction or alcoholism. Some of these are becoming more common, but you still don't expect to experience them, while you pretty well know your parents are going to die in your lifetime.
Several of these tough situations that I'm aware of have been deeply on my heart lately. I've been interceding almost constantly for some of them. There seems to be so much abnormally painful stuff happening right now to people I love and care about.
I'm reading a book by James Dobson called, "Preparing for Adolescence - how to survive the coming years of change" that is intended for parents to use as a workbook with their children at around age 12 - 13. We got the book and accompanying workbook when we visited Focus on the Family in Colorado Springs this summer. I've decided Deanna and I are going on a retreat for a weekend, probably in November, to work through this book. It deals with all the issues facing children during puberty, helps explain what they will encounter, gives them tips on dealing with these issues, and opens the lines of communication between child and same-sex parent to talk openly about anything on the adolescent's mind. In the beginning, he gives an analogy of the child speeding along a highway from the town of Puberty to Adulthood (8 years away). Suddenly, there's a Flagman who stops the car and explains that a bridge has collapsed ahead leaving a huge drop-off into a canyon. You can't go back to Puberty. You have to press on to Adulthood, but how? The Flagman explains that if you drive very slowly, you'll see the drop-off before you fall into it, you can turn south and go around the canyon and get safely to the other side. The car is the child's life, the Flagman is Dobson, and the dark canyon that "many other young people have wrecked their lives by plunging down the dark gorge" into is hopelessness, inferiority, and a depressing feeling of worthlessness.
From what I've seen lately, many adults are heading down a road and drop into a dark canyon called "wrong thinking". I wonder if the second canyon is connected to the first. I wonder if your life as an adult is a measure of how well you navigated the canyon of adolescence.
I know that what I want Deanna to get out of this retreat with me and reading this book together is a closer relationship to me, a deep knowledge that she can trust me with ANY information and question, and the groundwork for a secure, well-adjusted young woman who realizes that everyone goes through what she's dealing with right now - maybe not all at the same time, but over a rolling several years. She is more valuable that words can express. She may not be physically perfect, but neither is anybody else. She IS who God created her to be, and it was no mistake.
I want to reinforce in her that her self-worth comes from God, not her friends. Dobson points out that Jesus chose as his disciples NOT the most popular men, but common people with common lives - they weren't exceptionally attractive or wealthy or witty. Most of them were working class grunts. He even chose a tax collector, the most despised of all Jews. Throughout history, God has continued to choose ordinary people to do extraordinary things for Him. Who the heck was Billy Graham? Where did he come from? He was a nobody from a hick town, but God used him to bring millions of people to Him. Mother Theresa was a simple, small-of-build woman - but she packed a powerful punch.
Money, good looks, and intelligence aren't what God is looking for. Those are the world's values. God wants workers with fortitude, people who know how to fight and pray, believers who can stand up to anything with Jesus at their side.
Fortitude is what I want to teach Deanna. And I want to be an example by exhibiting grace and strength in tough situations so that she sees the value of pushing through hard things in her life and experiencing the joy on the other side of adversity.
And I want to teach her to be a prayer warrior so when she's burdened by her own insecurities or the woes of the people she loves, she has a place to go, a place of rest, where she can lay her burdens down and walk away refreshed.
Like I pray I am.
Some people just seem to struggle with harder things than others. There's always the loss of parents, children growing up and leaving home, your health or that of your spouse deteriorating. Those are normal difficult things that EVERYONE experiences. But some people have harder things in their lives that they have to live through - the death of a child, a spouse becoming an invalid very young, divorce or unfaithfulness, their children being abused or falling into drug addiction or alcoholism. Some of these are becoming more common, but you still don't expect to experience them, while you pretty well know your parents are going to die in your lifetime.
Several of these tough situations that I'm aware of have been deeply on my heart lately. I've been interceding almost constantly for some of them. There seems to be so much abnormally painful stuff happening right now to people I love and care about.
I'm reading a book by James Dobson called, "Preparing for Adolescence - how to survive the coming years of change" that is intended for parents to use as a workbook with their children at around age 12 - 13. We got the book and accompanying workbook when we visited Focus on the Family in Colorado Springs this summer. I've decided Deanna and I are going on a retreat for a weekend, probably in November, to work through this book. It deals with all the issues facing children during puberty, helps explain what they will encounter, gives them tips on dealing with these issues, and opens the lines of communication between child and same-sex parent to talk openly about anything on the adolescent's mind. In the beginning, he gives an analogy of the child speeding along a highway from the town of Puberty to Adulthood (8 years away). Suddenly, there's a Flagman who stops the car and explains that a bridge has collapsed ahead leaving a huge drop-off into a canyon. You can't go back to Puberty. You have to press on to Adulthood, but how? The Flagman explains that if you drive very slowly, you'll see the drop-off before you fall into it, you can turn south and go around the canyon and get safely to the other side. The car is the child's life, the Flagman is Dobson, and the dark canyon that "many other young people have wrecked their lives by plunging down the dark gorge" into is hopelessness, inferiority, and a depressing feeling of worthlessness.
From what I've seen lately, many adults are heading down a road and drop into a dark canyon called "wrong thinking". I wonder if the second canyon is connected to the first. I wonder if your life as an adult is a measure of how well you navigated the canyon of adolescence.
I know that what I want Deanna to get out of this retreat with me and reading this book together is a closer relationship to me, a deep knowledge that she can trust me with ANY information and question, and the groundwork for a secure, well-adjusted young woman who realizes that everyone goes through what she's dealing with right now - maybe not all at the same time, but over a rolling several years. She is more valuable that words can express. She may not be physically perfect, but neither is anybody else. She IS who God created her to be, and it was no mistake.
I want to reinforce in her that her self-worth comes from God, not her friends. Dobson points out that Jesus chose as his disciples NOT the most popular men, but common people with common lives - they weren't exceptionally attractive or wealthy or witty. Most of them were working class grunts. He even chose a tax collector, the most despised of all Jews. Throughout history, God has continued to choose ordinary people to do extraordinary things for Him. Who the heck was Billy Graham? Where did he come from? He was a nobody from a hick town, but God used him to bring millions of people to Him. Mother Theresa was a simple, small-of-build woman - but she packed a powerful punch.
Money, good looks, and intelligence aren't what God is looking for. Those are the world's values. God wants workers with fortitude, people who know how to fight and pray, believers who can stand up to anything with Jesus at their side.
Fortitude is what I want to teach Deanna. And I want to be an example by exhibiting grace and strength in tough situations so that she sees the value of pushing through hard things in her life and experiencing the joy on the other side of adversity.
And I want to teach her to be a prayer warrior so when she's burdened by her own insecurities or the woes of the people she loves, she has a place to go, a place of rest, where she can lay her burdens down and walk away refreshed.
Like I pray I am.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Correct Proposal
My 26-yr. old nephew is engaged. He's the one who quite his job to spend three months seeing South America. He had such a wonderful time that he took a trip to New Zealand this year and took along his girlfriend of 2 years.
While on a gondola ride down a river in Christ's Church, NZ, he proposed to the love of his life. He had another couple he met over there go with them. The other couple arrived early and hid the ring, the champagne and flowers under blankets. When James and Haley arrived, he began videotaping the scenery, then asked Sven to do some camcording for him.
He told Haley he wanted to tell her something - that he had been giving it a lot of thought and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
"Okay," she said, softly (and I know this because I watched it on the video!)
Then he got up from the seat (and under the blanket - it's winter down under), knelt in front of her, asked her to be his wife and, after she accepted, Sven produced the ring which was a perfect fit. James snuggled back down next to his fiance, who cuddled in, both thrilled with the beginning of their new life together.
James' sister, my niece, e-mailed me yesterday with a link to the video. I watched it, then called the children together. We all watched it several times. It was so romantic, well-thought-out, and precious. Dane stood for a moment, then shrugged, and began to walk off.
"You better come back here and watch this again, Dane," Deanna announced. "You're going to need to do this someday and you'd better learn how to do it right."
Lets hope it's a very long time before he needs that knowledge. But positive reinforcement of the "right" way to propose doesn't hurt at any age. One day, some young woman will appreciate that video and the training of his older sister. And I'm sure James will appreciate knowing that Deanna thinks he did it "right".
Congratulations, James and Haley, and welcome to the family, sweet girl. We're very tickled to have you.
While on a gondola ride down a river in Christ's Church, NZ, he proposed to the love of his life. He had another couple he met over there go with them. The other couple arrived early and hid the ring, the champagne and flowers under blankets. When James and Haley arrived, he began videotaping the scenery, then asked Sven to do some camcording for him.
He told Haley he wanted to tell her something - that he had been giving it a lot of thought and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
"Okay," she said, softly (and I know this because I watched it on the video!)
Then he got up from the seat (and under the blanket - it's winter down under), knelt in front of her, asked her to be his wife and, after she accepted, Sven produced the ring which was a perfect fit. James snuggled back down next to his fiance, who cuddled in, both thrilled with the beginning of their new life together.
James' sister, my niece, e-mailed me yesterday with a link to the video. I watched it, then called the children together. We all watched it several times. It was so romantic, well-thought-out, and precious. Dane stood for a moment, then shrugged, and began to walk off.
"You better come back here and watch this again, Dane," Deanna announced. "You're going to need to do this someday and you'd better learn how to do it right."
Lets hope it's a very long time before he needs that knowledge. But positive reinforcement of the "right" way to propose doesn't hurt at any age. One day, some young woman will appreciate that video and the training of his older sister. And I'm sure James will appreciate knowing that Deanna thinks he did it "right".
Congratulations, James and Haley, and welcome to the family, sweet girl. We're very tickled to have you.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Abundance
On the corner of the grocery store lot today, Dane and I saw a man holding a sign that said, "Homeless and Hungry. Will accept donations. God bless."
Dane, my tender-hearted child, was overcome by this man and his sign. I explained that, often, homeless people struggled with drug abuse or alcoholism, which had eaten up all their money, and if you gave them cash, they'd just use it to fuel their habit.
"Can we just buy him some food, instead, then, Mama?" he asked. I considered this for a few minutes and then agreed to find a nice ready-made sandwich at the deli to purchase for him. On Dane's prodding, we went there first. We found a large hoagie roll with thick slices of ham, cheese and lettuce and looked filling and healthy. I put it in the basket and we moved through our shopping.
About halfway through the store, Dane said, "Mama, that man must be thirsty. It's hot today and he could get dehydrated standing out there in the heat. We better get him a drink, too."
I told him that we could pick up a chilled beverage from the cooler by the check-out counter. About every 3 minutes, Dane would comment again about the man. Sometimes it was "I bet he's really thirsty", other times it was "I hope he's still there" or "I'd hate for him to be gone when we're buying this nice sandwich for him", "Do you think he'll really eat it?" "How will we know if he eats it or not?", "He looked really sad, Mommy" . . . He was consumed by this man and his troubles. I didn't know what to say. Obviously, this situation had really touched Dane's heart. The only way I could respond was that there was no way to know, but we just needed to trust God. If the man was really hungry, then the food would be a blessing to him. If he was just looking for drink money, it wouldn't phase him.
As I stood in line at the check-out, Dane picked out a soda for himself and one for the man. We put the sandwich and soda last on the conveyor belt and asked the cashier to put them in a separate bag. When I loaded the groceries into the trunk, I gave Dane the bag to hold in the backseat. He sat at the far right of the car, ready to jump out and give the bag to the man.
All that worrying and questioning in the grocery store got ME thinking. I checked my wallet to see if I had any small bills - a $5 would do perfectly - not enough to buy drugs or much alcohol, but enough for a small fast-food meal, if he really was hungry. I found four $1, pulled them out, folded them, and crammed them in the bag. Then I talked it through with Dane. He said he thought I shouldn't give the man any money, that the food was enough for today. Pretty good reasoning, I thought, so I slipped the bills into my pocket.
I was a little nervous about the encounter Dane may have with the man. I've known of panhandlers that threw food at the donor before and cursed them, going through withdrawals and wanting a fix more than the proferred meal. I told Dane not to talk to him, just to jump out, give him the bag, and jump back in the car again. I pulled up even with him, Dane handed him the bag and there were a few words exchanged, then Dane jumped back in the car. On a whim, I turned the wrong direction, went a little ways up the road, then turned around and went back the right direction, slowing to a crawl as we passed the man.
According to Dane, he looked in the bag, said "Thank you and God bless you" to Dane who responded, "You're welcome" before hopping back into the car. As we drove back by, the man was packing his sign into a small suitcase sitting next to him and was obviously calling it a day.
Dane's convinced that the man DID need food and, once his need was met, had no more need to panhandle and was heading off for a bench in the shade to eat. I'm not sure that's the whole story, but it was a nice ending for my son. He learned a valuable lesson and his sweet little tender heart wasn't damaged in the process. We prayed for the man on the way home, as well.
At dinner tonight, Don asked Deanna to say a special Sabbath blessing (as Christians, we celebrate the Sabbath from Saturday sundown to Sunday sundown, a day later than the Jews). Her prayer was very sincere and serious and she thanked the Lord for His provision for us and asked him to bless all those who don't have food on their tables. I jerked my head up and stole a glance at Dane. He was looking at me, wide-eyed, and nodded. I smiled back.
After the blessing, he told his story about the homeless man and his take on the man's need being met. It was interesting to listen to his version and realize that life has jaded me and his innocence is quite refreshing. I'm very thankful we saw that man today and had an opportunity to share a little of our plenty with him. Maybe he decided to move to another location in the hopes of finding a money tree or maybe he really just wanted a meal. In any case, my heart grew some today and Dane's was touched.
Lord, bless all those that are homeless tonight, either by the circumstances of their lives, hard luck, or poor choices. Pour out your blessings on them. Let them eat of the living bread of abundant life in You and drink deep of the waters of Your Holy Spirit. And help each of us who have so much to be thankful for your provision for us and never take it for granted. Amen.
Dane, my tender-hearted child, was overcome by this man and his sign. I explained that, often, homeless people struggled with drug abuse or alcoholism, which had eaten up all their money, and if you gave them cash, they'd just use it to fuel their habit.
"Can we just buy him some food, instead, then, Mama?" he asked. I considered this for a few minutes and then agreed to find a nice ready-made sandwich at the deli to purchase for him. On Dane's prodding, we went there first. We found a large hoagie roll with thick slices of ham, cheese and lettuce and looked filling and healthy. I put it in the basket and we moved through our shopping.
About halfway through the store, Dane said, "Mama, that man must be thirsty. It's hot today and he could get dehydrated standing out there in the heat. We better get him a drink, too."
I told him that we could pick up a chilled beverage from the cooler by the check-out counter. About every 3 minutes, Dane would comment again about the man. Sometimes it was "I bet he's really thirsty", other times it was "I hope he's still there" or "I'd hate for him to be gone when we're buying this nice sandwich for him", "Do you think he'll really eat it?" "How will we know if he eats it or not?", "He looked really sad, Mommy" . . . He was consumed by this man and his troubles. I didn't know what to say. Obviously, this situation had really touched Dane's heart. The only way I could respond was that there was no way to know, but we just needed to trust God. If the man was really hungry, then the food would be a blessing to him. If he was just looking for drink money, it wouldn't phase him.
As I stood in line at the check-out, Dane picked out a soda for himself and one for the man. We put the sandwich and soda last on the conveyor belt and asked the cashier to put them in a separate bag. When I loaded the groceries into the trunk, I gave Dane the bag to hold in the backseat. He sat at the far right of the car, ready to jump out and give the bag to the man.
All that worrying and questioning in the grocery store got ME thinking. I checked my wallet to see if I had any small bills - a $5 would do perfectly - not enough to buy drugs or much alcohol, but enough for a small fast-food meal, if he really was hungry. I found four $1, pulled them out, folded them, and crammed them in the bag. Then I talked it through with Dane. He said he thought I shouldn't give the man any money, that the food was enough for today. Pretty good reasoning, I thought, so I slipped the bills into my pocket.
I was a little nervous about the encounter Dane may have with the man. I've known of panhandlers that threw food at the donor before and cursed them, going through withdrawals and wanting a fix more than the proferred meal. I told Dane not to talk to him, just to jump out, give him the bag, and jump back in the car again. I pulled up even with him, Dane handed him the bag and there were a few words exchanged, then Dane jumped back in the car. On a whim, I turned the wrong direction, went a little ways up the road, then turned around and went back the right direction, slowing to a crawl as we passed the man.
According to Dane, he looked in the bag, said "Thank you and God bless you" to Dane who responded, "You're welcome" before hopping back into the car. As we drove back by, the man was packing his sign into a small suitcase sitting next to him and was obviously calling it a day.
Dane's convinced that the man DID need food and, once his need was met, had no more need to panhandle and was heading off for a bench in the shade to eat. I'm not sure that's the whole story, but it was a nice ending for my son. He learned a valuable lesson and his sweet little tender heart wasn't damaged in the process. We prayed for the man on the way home, as well.
At dinner tonight, Don asked Deanna to say a special Sabbath blessing (as Christians, we celebrate the Sabbath from Saturday sundown to Sunday sundown, a day later than the Jews). Her prayer was very sincere and serious and she thanked the Lord for His provision for us and asked him to bless all those who don't have food on their tables. I jerked my head up and stole a glance at Dane. He was looking at me, wide-eyed, and nodded. I smiled back.
After the blessing, he told his story about the homeless man and his take on the man's need being met. It was interesting to listen to his version and realize that life has jaded me and his innocence is quite refreshing. I'm very thankful we saw that man today and had an opportunity to share a little of our plenty with him. Maybe he decided to move to another location in the hopes of finding a money tree or maybe he really just wanted a meal. In any case, my heart grew some today and Dane's was touched.
Lord, bless all those that are homeless tonight, either by the circumstances of their lives, hard luck, or poor choices. Pour out your blessings on them. Let them eat of the living bread of abundant life in You and drink deep of the waters of Your Holy Spirit. And help each of us who have so much to be thankful for your provision for us and never take it for granted. Amen.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Short Memory
I was spending time with the children tonight, feeling a little under the weather after my dental appointment on Tuesday. After dinner, I climbed in my bed. Deanna came to check on me and I asked her to stay. Before long, all three children were piled up on my bed and we were telling stories.
Eventually, we got around to the children's friends in their classes and who they were closest to. Deanna told us who she felt were her closest friends, then Dane. When it came to Daelyn's turn, I asked,
"So, son, is there someone in your class that you particularly like?"
Daelyn: "Yep!"
Me: "Who?"
Daelyn: "Savannah." (A little girl in his class.)
Me, repeating: "Savannah?"
Daelyn: "How'd you know?"
Eventually, we got around to the children's friends in their classes and who they were closest to. Deanna told us who she felt were her closest friends, then Dane. When it came to Daelyn's turn, I asked,
"So, son, is there someone in your class that you particularly like?"
Daelyn: "Yep!"
Me: "Who?"
Daelyn: "Savannah." (A little girl in his class.)
Me, repeating: "Savannah?"
Daelyn: "How'd you know?"
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bunny Ears
Don had so much comp time stored up from England that his boss told him to take Tuesday off to help with jet lag. For two weeks, he was away from the children and all their noises, the constant ruckus and chatter that comes with three children. He was working with a bunch of professionals in a quiet, professional environment. Then he returns home - to everything THAT means.
He was sitting at the kitchen table Tuesday afternoon after Daelyn got home from school. Daelyn has always been a talker - he talks to me, the dog, his siblings, his toys, his schoolwork, the furniture, imaginary people, and anything else that he thinks might be interested - and he truly things everything is interested. He's a non-stop running commentary on everything he sees and thinks.
Daelyn: "Daddy, you don't have your shoes on. Before we go pick up the van, you have to put your shoes on."
Don, getting a word in edgewise: "I know, son."
Daelyn: "Did you know that I learned how to tie shoes while you were gone? Want me to show you? Can I tie your shoes, Daddy? Just let me tie your shoes for you and I can show you. How about letting me tie your shoes?"
Don, smirking: "Fine, son. Just let me put them on first!" He proceeded to slip his feet into his tennis shoes, then turn sideways in his chair so his feet were firmly planted in front of Daelyn. "Have at it."
Daelyn: "I really can tie shoes, Daddy. I learned while you were gone. It's real easy. I'll show you. You just take this lace and you make a bunny ear. Dane taught me. I'm real good at it, Daddy. Then you take this other lace and make a bunny ear. See? I'm doing it, Daddy. Don't you think I'm doing good? Then you wrap the bunny ears around each other and stick this one through the hole. That's what I'm doing. Daddy, can you see what I'm doing. I'm sticking the bunny ear through the hole. Where's the hole? I don't see the hole. I've lost the hole. Where's the hole. I know it's here someplace. Dane taught me. You make the bunny ears, then you wrap them around each other and put this one in the hole. But there's no hole. There's got to be a hole. Dane taught me. There's no hole. Oh, well. I don't really know how to tie shoes, Daddy."
All of this was said continuously, with no breaths or pauses. I looked over at Don. He was grinning from ear to ear. I started to laugh, which was a mistake because I had dental work done and my mouth was very swollen. I glanced up again and he had that old familiar sparkle in his eyes.
Poor Daelyn. He'll learn eventually. He's off to a good start. But more importantly, his Daddy's home to teach him and enjoying every second of his very talkative son.
He was sitting at the kitchen table Tuesday afternoon after Daelyn got home from school. Daelyn has always been a talker - he talks to me, the dog, his siblings, his toys, his schoolwork, the furniture, imaginary people, and anything else that he thinks might be interested - and he truly things everything is interested. He's a non-stop running commentary on everything he sees and thinks.
Daelyn: "Daddy, you don't have your shoes on. Before we go pick up the van, you have to put your shoes on."
Don, getting a word in edgewise: "I know, son."
Daelyn: "Did you know that I learned how to tie shoes while you were gone? Want me to show you? Can I tie your shoes, Daddy? Just let me tie your shoes for you and I can show you. How about letting me tie your shoes?"
Don, smirking: "Fine, son. Just let me put them on first!" He proceeded to slip his feet into his tennis shoes, then turn sideways in his chair so his feet were firmly planted in front of Daelyn. "Have at it."
Daelyn: "I really can tie shoes, Daddy. I learned while you were gone. It's real easy. I'll show you. You just take this lace and you make a bunny ear. Dane taught me. I'm real good at it, Daddy. Then you take this other lace and make a bunny ear. See? I'm doing it, Daddy. Don't you think I'm doing good? Then you wrap the bunny ears around each other and stick this one through the hole. That's what I'm doing. Daddy, can you see what I'm doing. I'm sticking the bunny ear through the hole. Where's the hole? I don't see the hole. I've lost the hole. Where's the hole. I know it's here someplace. Dane taught me. You make the bunny ears, then you wrap them around each other and put this one in the hole. But there's no hole. There's got to be a hole. Dane taught me. There's no hole. Oh, well. I don't really know how to tie shoes, Daddy."
All of this was said continuously, with no breaths or pauses. I looked over at Don. He was grinning from ear to ear. I started to laugh, which was a mistake because I had dental work done and my mouth was very swollen. I glanced up again and he had that old familiar sparkle in his eyes.
Poor Daelyn. He'll learn eventually. He's off to a good start. But more importantly, his Daddy's home to teach him and enjoying every second of his very talkative son.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Turkey Talk
During family devotions Monday night, Don was talking about the three elements of prayer - contemplation, thanksgiving and petitions.
He explained to the children what contemplation meant then, hoping to be more interactive, asked them if they knew what thanksgiving was.
Dane: "When we sacrifice a turkey and offer it up to the Lord?"
He explained to the children what contemplation meant then, hoping to be more interactive, asked them if they knew what thanksgiving was.
Dane: "When we sacrifice a turkey and offer it up to the Lord?"
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
. . . and all is Right in the World!
Don finally got home last night from England, after his flight on Sunday from Manchester to Atlanta got cancelled. Delta put them in a hotel overnight and fed them dinner, but it was one more delay in having daddy home. Then there was an issue over whether he would actually make the connecting flight to Augusta. He only had one hour in Atlanta to get through Customs, change concourses and catch his plane. Doubtful, we both thought, so I looked up the time of the next flight.
When I called Delta yesterday morning to be certain he was on the special Manchester to Atlanta flight, they told me that he was on the manifest and that the flight was making very good time and was scheduled to land an hour and 15 minutes early, leaving him plenty of time to make his connector home.
Before leaving for the airport, I called Delta one last time to be sure he had made the flight. Whoops of joy and laughter were heard throughout the house. Daddy was only minutes from being home.
He immediately began unpacking, pulling out 4 large bags of porridge oats, English magazines for all the children, chocolate spread, golden syrup, biscuits, crumpets, and the church magazine for me. I plopped at the kitchen table (already set for dinner) and began reading about all the news at New Church. Dinner was in the oven, Don was in the dining room unpacking, and I noticed it was very quiet in the house. I glanced up from my newsletter to discover that all three children were sitting silently at the table, each reading their magazines from England. It's never that quiet around here. But Daddy's home and, with him, he brought his magic that only Daddy has. He has an impact on the family that I can't even approximate.
While sitting at the airport waiting for his luggage, I breathed a sigh of relief and commented, "Daddy's home - all is right in the world."
Deanna was sitting next to me. "I wish I could believe that, Mama, but there's still a war in Afghanistan." Ten years old and she talks like a 35 yr. old.
"I know, honey, but my little world of Augusta, Georgia, just became right again."
"THAT I can agree to." She smiled and tucked herself under my arm, obviously feeling very RIGHT herself.
When I called Delta yesterday morning to be certain he was on the special Manchester to Atlanta flight, they told me that he was on the manifest and that the flight was making very good time and was scheduled to land an hour and 15 minutes early, leaving him plenty of time to make his connector home.
Before leaving for the airport, I called Delta one last time to be sure he had made the flight. Whoops of joy and laughter were heard throughout the house. Daddy was only minutes from being home.
He immediately began unpacking, pulling out 4 large bags of porridge oats, English magazines for all the children, chocolate spread, golden syrup, biscuits, crumpets, and the church magazine for me. I plopped at the kitchen table (already set for dinner) and began reading about all the news at New Church. Dinner was in the oven, Don was in the dining room unpacking, and I noticed it was very quiet in the house. I glanced up from my newsletter to discover that all three children were sitting silently at the table, each reading their magazines from England. It's never that quiet around here. But Daddy's home and, with him, he brought his magic that only Daddy has. He has an impact on the family that I can't even approximate.
While sitting at the airport waiting for his luggage, I breathed a sigh of relief and commented, "Daddy's home - all is right in the world."
Deanna was sitting next to me. "I wish I could believe that, Mama, but there's still a war in Afghanistan." Ten years old and she talks like a 35 yr. old.
"I know, honey, but my little world of Augusta, Georgia, just became right again."
"THAT I can agree to." She smiled and tucked herself under my arm, obviously feeling very RIGHT herself.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Territory
We had a cook-out with friends on Saturday. They have a pool and invited us to swim, as well. They provided the meat, condiments and buns, I took red cream soda, chips and baked beans.
It was quite a treat. The adults ate portabella mushroom burgers. My friend, Karen, had marinated the portabellas overnight in balsamic vinegar, garlic and olive oil, then they grilled them lightly. We ate them on buns, and they were fabulous. I've never eaten portabellas as an entree. But I will again.
Another friend of mine, Anne, lives next door. She came and ate with us and we got to visit. She has a dog, a cute little stray they found several years ago, who's absolutely darling but doesn't like Donovan. Everytime they get near each other, Donovan wants to play and Scamper wants to fight.
As we were packing up to leave their house, Daelyn grabbed my arm.
"Mama," he said, "I think we should bring Scamper home with us to play with Donovan."
I laughed. I tried to explain that Scamper doesn't like to play with Donovan - he likes to fight. Daelyn couldn't understand how two such good-natured dogs could fight with each other. I explained the whole "male - territory" thing. Daelyn looked at me doubtfully.
"So, tomorrow can we bring Scamper over to play with Donovan?"
Maybe he's just not old enough yet to understand. Let's hope he never does.
It was quite a treat. The adults ate portabella mushroom burgers. My friend, Karen, had marinated the portabellas overnight in balsamic vinegar, garlic and olive oil, then they grilled them lightly. We ate them on buns, and they were fabulous. I've never eaten portabellas as an entree. But I will again.
Another friend of mine, Anne, lives next door. She came and ate with us and we got to visit. She has a dog, a cute little stray they found several years ago, who's absolutely darling but doesn't like Donovan. Everytime they get near each other, Donovan wants to play and Scamper wants to fight.
As we were packing up to leave their house, Daelyn grabbed my arm.
"Mama," he said, "I think we should bring Scamper home with us to play with Donovan."
I laughed. I tried to explain that Scamper doesn't like to play with Donovan - he likes to fight. Daelyn couldn't understand how two such good-natured dogs could fight with each other. I explained the whole "male - territory" thing. Daelyn looked at me doubtfully.
"So, tomorrow can we bring Scamper over to play with Donovan?"
Maybe he's just not old enough yet to understand. Let's hope he never does.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Dogs and Cats
Daelyn: "Mama, Donovan likes cats."
Me: "And how do you know this?"
Daelyn: "He told me."
Me: "He told you? Donovan told you?"
Daelyn: "Yep. I asked him if he liked cats and he nodded his head."
Me: Silence, trying to think of something pithy with which to respond.
Daelyn: "I'll ask him again. Donovan, do you like cats?"
Pause
Daelyn: "He nodded again, Mama. He likes cats."
Me: "And how do you know this?"
Daelyn: "He told me."
Me: "He told you? Donovan told you?"
Daelyn: "Yep. I asked him if he liked cats and he nodded his head."
Me: Silence, trying to think of something pithy with which to respond.
Daelyn: "I'll ask him again. Donovan, do you like cats?"
Pause
Daelyn: "He nodded again, Mama. He likes cats."
Friday, September 14, 2007
School Daze
It's raining lightly outside and was all afternoon yesterday and through the night. I'm so thankful for the rain. There's no air conditioning in the school and it's awfully difficult for the children to concentrate and work when it's stifling in the classroom. I can't imagine how the teachers handle it.
Wednesday, in Daelyn's classroom, it reached 90 degrees, even though the temp outside was only 86. It was actually cooler sitting outside in the sun than it was in the classroom. By the time he got out, I ran carpool, and we got home, the stuffing had been sweated right out of me. I was completely exhausted, but I needed to take my mom to the dentist. We got home just in time to pick the other two up from school, then I picked up Chinese take-out for dinner and headed home. I asked the children to bring their schoolwork into my bedroom so I could work on it with them while I laid down. When they finished, we ate dinner (at 4 p.m.) and I headed back to the bedroom. I actually dozed off twice for 15 minutes each, which refreshed me just enough to get me through leading part of the practice for Children's Choir.
It can't cool off soon enough for me. When it's this hot and muggy in the classroom, you just feel like you're living in a fog, a daze.
The children ran out to play in the rain yesterday. It was refreshing, also, and they needed some outside time, but it's just been too hot. I'm sure it also reminded them of England. They all donned rain slickers and took off for the backyard. I noticed when they came back in that everyone's attitudes had improved.
We all needed a little break from the heat. It's amazing how much better we can all relate when we're cool and comfortable.
Keep it comin', Lord. It's just a drop in my rain bucket.
Wednesday, in Daelyn's classroom, it reached 90 degrees, even though the temp outside was only 86. It was actually cooler sitting outside in the sun than it was in the classroom. By the time he got out, I ran carpool, and we got home, the stuffing had been sweated right out of me. I was completely exhausted, but I needed to take my mom to the dentist. We got home just in time to pick the other two up from school, then I picked up Chinese take-out for dinner and headed home. I asked the children to bring their schoolwork into my bedroom so I could work on it with them while I laid down. When they finished, we ate dinner (at 4 p.m.) and I headed back to the bedroom. I actually dozed off twice for 15 minutes each, which refreshed me just enough to get me through leading part of the practice for Children's Choir.
It can't cool off soon enough for me. When it's this hot and muggy in the classroom, you just feel like you're living in a fog, a daze.
The children ran out to play in the rain yesterday. It was refreshing, also, and they needed some outside time, but it's just been too hot. I'm sure it also reminded them of England. They all donned rain slickers and took off for the backyard. I noticed when they came back in that everyone's attitudes had improved.
We all needed a little break from the heat. It's amazing how much better we can all relate when we're cool and comfortable.
Keep it comin', Lord. It's just a drop in my rain bucket.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Better Late than Never
Got a e-mail today about a rental property that matched my search. I thought it must be a condo on the beach since my friend, Anne, and I did searches to try and find a place for us to share this summer.
Opened it up and - guess what? A detached cottage is available for rent in the village of Culcheth. We began searching for a place in Culcheth last November for our three-month stay. Out of curiosity, I checked out the property. The rent is 850 pounds sterling/month (less than we were paying for our tiny little house) and appears to be about twice the size. It also had lots of other extras.
I considered saving the info - briefly. Maybe we'll get another opportunity to go back and, if we do, this property info could come in handy. Quickly, on impulse, I deleted the e-mail. No sense hanging onto false hopes.
But I sure wish they had posted a picture of the cottage. Maybe . . .
Opened it up and - guess what? A detached cottage is available for rent in the village of Culcheth. We began searching for a place in Culcheth last November for our three-month stay. Out of curiosity, I checked out the property. The rent is 850 pounds sterling/month (less than we were paying for our tiny little house) and appears to be about twice the size. It also had lots of other extras.
I considered saving the info - briefly. Maybe we'll get another opportunity to go back and, if we do, this property info could come in handy. Quickly, on impulse, I deleted the e-mail. No sense hanging onto false hopes.
But I sure wish they had posted a picture of the cottage. Maybe . . .
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
And the days roll on
Late last night I got an e-mail from Don that he had sent before leaving work. I wasn't in the habit of checking my e-mails during the day, because he usually only writes upon arrival at work, which is still the middle of the night here, so his daily note is waiting for me when I get up.
So, anyway, I found this short note. This was the entire message:
"Ok, It's official - I'm headed to the West Lakes office in Cumbria tomorrow morning for at least Wednesday and Thursday. I will finally get to see the Lake District."
I was thrilled and apprehensive at the same time. Thrilled that he was finally getting to see the site that was the topic of the bid proposal he worked to put together for 3 months, never having actually seen the facility. But I got a lump in my throat everytime I thought about him being gone for the next couple of days and unreachable.
If I had gotten the message earlier, I might have been able to make some plans with him. But it was so late, it was the middle of the night, and I wasn't going to call and wake him.
We agreed not to talk Monday night because he was having dinner with our good friends, Monika and Chris, and I didn't want him to feel like he needed to hurry to get back to his room in time for my call. He wrote me about their dinner, which turned out to be very late (they didn't arrive until 10:30) because of severe traffic problems, and said he needed to get to bed early Tuesday. I responded via e-mail that I wouldn't call him Tuesday, either, so he could get to bed whenever possible without having to wait up for my call. But I was really starting to miss him and yearning for the sound of his voice. Then I read the note and realized I wouldn't be able to talk to him Wed. or Thurs. nights, and I got a little emotional.
All-in-all, I think I've done quite well this trip. Don's communication skills have dramatically improved and I've felt close to him the entire 10 days he's been gone. On Monday, when I realized I still had another week to get through, I decided that I couldn't handle looking at the whole week at one time - I needed to just take it day by day, which I've done, and done very satisfactorily, if I do say so myself. However, I began to feel a little shaky and rough around the edges round about Tuesday - just before I got his note.
I batted off a response, not having any idea if he was going to the office before leaving for Cumbria or not. On the outside chance that he might, I asked that he call me from his cellphone.
I put on a brave face and attempted to do some other work on the computer, but everytime I looked down at the "Mail" icon, that lump in my throat would reappear. I tried to put it out of my mind and went to bed late and slept restlessly.
At 7:30 this morning, while trying to get the kids lunches made and breakfast on the table, the phone rang. It was Don. He got my message when he got to Cumbria and responded, but I hadn't checked my e-mail. His response said that he'd call at 7:30. We had a nice chat, I heard all about the drive up, and he talked with the children. It did me a world of good to just chat with my husband.
He called again this afternoon and it felt wonderful. He's not sure when he's going back south or even IF he's going back south and I think he's realized that I'm a little uncomfortable with the lack of info. So he's trying to stay in touch to get me through.
My husband really knows me. And he loves me. And he works very hard to show me.
There are worse things in life that being separated by 5,000 miles from the love of your life. Some people are separated in the same town. Others are separated in the same house.
Don's having a wonderful time and I'm so thankful he has this opportunity.
God is good and his mercy is everlasting. And timely.
So, anyway, I found this short note. This was the entire message:
"Ok, It's official - I'm headed to the West Lakes office in Cumbria tomorrow morning for at least Wednesday and Thursday. I will finally get to see the Lake District."
I was thrilled and apprehensive at the same time. Thrilled that he was finally getting to see the site that was the topic of the bid proposal he worked to put together for 3 months, never having actually seen the facility. But I got a lump in my throat everytime I thought about him being gone for the next couple of days and unreachable.
If I had gotten the message earlier, I might have been able to make some plans with him. But it was so late, it was the middle of the night, and I wasn't going to call and wake him.
We agreed not to talk Monday night because he was having dinner with our good friends, Monika and Chris, and I didn't want him to feel like he needed to hurry to get back to his room in time for my call. He wrote me about their dinner, which turned out to be very late (they didn't arrive until 10:30) because of severe traffic problems, and said he needed to get to bed early Tuesday. I responded via e-mail that I wouldn't call him Tuesday, either, so he could get to bed whenever possible without having to wait up for my call. But I was really starting to miss him and yearning for the sound of his voice. Then I read the note and realized I wouldn't be able to talk to him Wed. or Thurs. nights, and I got a little emotional.
All-in-all, I think I've done quite well this trip. Don's communication skills have dramatically improved and I've felt close to him the entire 10 days he's been gone. On Monday, when I realized I still had another week to get through, I decided that I couldn't handle looking at the whole week at one time - I needed to just take it day by day, which I've done, and done very satisfactorily, if I do say so myself. However, I began to feel a little shaky and rough around the edges round about Tuesday - just before I got his note.
I batted off a response, not having any idea if he was going to the office before leaving for Cumbria or not. On the outside chance that he might, I asked that he call me from his cellphone.
I put on a brave face and attempted to do some other work on the computer, but everytime I looked down at the "Mail" icon, that lump in my throat would reappear. I tried to put it out of my mind and went to bed late and slept restlessly.
At 7:30 this morning, while trying to get the kids lunches made and breakfast on the table, the phone rang. It was Don. He got my message when he got to Cumbria and responded, but I hadn't checked my e-mail. His response said that he'd call at 7:30. We had a nice chat, I heard all about the drive up, and he talked with the children. It did me a world of good to just chat with my husband.
He called again this afternoon and it felt wonderful. He's not sure when he's going back south or even IF he's going back south and I think he's realized that I'm a little uncomfortable with the lack of info. So he's trying to stay in touch to get me through.
My husband really knows me. And he loves me. And he works very hard to show me.
There are worse things in life that being separated by 5,000 miles from the love of your life. Some people are separated in the same town. Others are separated in the same house.
Don's having a wonderful time and I'm so thankful he has this opportunity.
God is good and his mercy is everlasting. And timely.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
What Kind of Teeth...
... can you get for a dollar? Buck teeth.
Which is what Dane's beginning to look like. He lost one front tooth sometime ago. The new one had almost totally grown back in. Finally, he lost the other front tooth. It was very strange to see this child walking around with either a gap up front or different size teeth for months on end. But the second front tooth has finally grown to full size.
The problem? The two front teeth point at different angles. It's really bizarre. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like this before, except on those fake hillbilly teeth you can buy.
One front tooth points decidedly down, the other decidedly out. Everytime he smiles his sweet smile at me, I have to stifle a grimace. Why hasn't the dentist noticed this disparity?
Dane has a dental appointment in a couple of weeks to get sealants. Maybe then I can discuss the dollar teeth that cost untold thousands with the doctor.
Which is what Dane's beginning to look like. He lost one front tooth sometime ago. The new one had almost totally grown back in. Finally, he lost the other front tooth. It was very strange to see this child walking around with either a gap up front or different size teeth for months on end. But the second front tooth has finally grown to full size.
The problem? The two front teeth point at different angles. It's really bizarre. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like this before, except on those fake hillbilly teeth you can buy.
One front tooth points decidedly down, the other decidedly out. Everytime he smiles his sweet smile at me, I have to stifle a grimace. Why hasn't the dentist noticed this disparity?
Dane has a dental appointment in a couple of weeks to get sealants. Maybe then I can discuss the dollar teeth that cost untold thousands with the doctor.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Head in the Game
There's a song from "High School Musical" about keeping your head in the game. The male lead character is distracted by an audition for a musical and his basketball buddies are afraid he'll lose the big game for them. The song has quite a catchy tune - "Get your head in the game!"
I feel like my head is completely in the game right now. The kids are learning their spelling words, their weekly and monthly scriptures, lunches are coming together nicely, breakfast is interesting, and they seem to be doing an amazing job at completing chores without even being asked or reminded.
Things may all fall apart next week, but for this moment, I'm treasuring the feeling of actually being "in" the game. Most of the time I feel like I haven't even made it through the gym door.
And I'll keep smiling at my children and telling them how proud I am of the job they're doing. All that positive reinforcement has GOT to be good for something.
If nothing else, it's stretching my facial muscles. I can always use a good stretch.
I feel like my head is completely in the game right now. The kids are learning their spelling words, their weekly and monthly scriptures, lunches are coming together nicely, breakfast is interesting, and they seem to be doing an amazing job at completing chores without even being asked or reminded.
Things may all fall apart next week, but for this moment, I'm treasuring the feeling of actually being "in" the game. Most of the time I feel like I haven't even made it through the gym door.
And I'll keep smiling at my children and telling them how proud I am of the job they're doing. All that positive reinforcement has GOT to be good for something.
If nothing else, it's stretching my facial muscles. I can always use a good stretch.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
A Taste of Home
Don e-mailed me Friday with his cellphone number. It seems another guy who works for the Company (who we got to know while we were in England) has a company-paid cellphone, but he's been sent to the states to corporate headquarters, leaving his phone behind, which was passed along to Don. His e-mail said that he believed he could receive or place calls internationally to or from this phone very cheaply. There was an unspoken encouragement to call him on it.
Saturday morning I answered the phone to hear Don on the other end. There were traffic noises in the background, so I asked where he was at.
"LIVERPOOL!" he responded smugly. He had gotten the weekend off and had taken the opportunity to head to the coast. He added that he was trying to find all the places the children and I had visited so he could see the same spots. He had visited Albert Dock, been to the Maritime Museum, seen some of the same boats in the harbor, and was sitting on a park bench. He said he looked for the statue of Queen Victoria at the sight of the old Palace but hadn't been able to find it yet.
He was very pleased. We spent three months in England and all Don got to see of it was the route from our house to the office, London (over the one week they gave him off after Christmas), and an evening in Chester. He worked 7 days a week, roughly 18 hours/day for 3 months. While the children and I toured England, Don worked. It was an act of sacrificial love. He was willing to put in those kinds of hours so the children and I could experience England.
Now, he's there for 2 weeks, and is finally getting to see a little of the country. He also told me that a co-worker that was there (living in an apartment in the same village as our house) when we were and that picks him up for work every morning and returns him at night had agreed to pick him up and take him to church in Culcheth today. Don called my dear friend, Anne, who asked him to come to lunch with her family at her home after church. So he got to see all our friends at New Church, then spent the afternoon with Anne, Andrew and Christine at their home.
He needed to do some shopping - to start knocking away at the long list I gave him of things to bring home - so he and Anne walked to Sainsbury's (the store in Culcheth where we did all our grocery shopping), picked up a few items, then parted company with Anne. From there, he walked to our old neighborhood and knocked on the door of my friend and neighbor, Kim, who happened to be home. He got to visit with Kim, Kevin, and Daelyn's playmate, Sam, for a while, then he and Kim took a quick run to the Co-Op (so he could scratch more items off my list) and Kim took him back to his hotel.
I asked him if it felt familiar.
"It was like coming home after work, Patti," he said. My heart leapt. I miss England and my friends so desperately. Hearing the names of our old stomps and thinking about Don walking those same old roads again made me choke a little. Often, on the way home from work, and very often on Sunday night, Don would run up to the Co-Op for me to pick up milk. There he was, on the same road, the same path, heading home.
Our old house is up for sale. I guess the owner hasn't been able to rent it out, so he's decided to sell it. While Don was in the cul-de-sac, one of the children that used to play with mine saw Don.
"Did you speak to Louis?" I asked.
"Yep. And I think he knew who I was," Don said.
"Why? What did he say?"
"He asked if Daelyn could come out to play!"
Ah, England. Not much has changed, apparently.
This evening, I tried to call Don on his cellphone. My calling card, which had over an hour left of calling time when I called his hotel on Thursday, jumped down to only 7 minutes of calling time. So much for cheap incoming international calls. I think I'll stick to the landline.
Saturday morning I answered the phone to hear Don on the other end. There were traffic noises in the background, so I asked where he was at.
"LIVERPOOL!" he responded smugly. He had gotten the weekend off and had taken the opportunity to head to the coast. He added that he was trying to find all the places the children and I had visited so he could see the same spots. He had visited Albert Dock, been to the Maritime Museum, seen some of the same boats in the harbor, and was sitting on a park bench. He said he looked for the statue of Queen Victoria at the sight of the old Palace but hadn't been able to find it yet.
He was very pleased. We spent three months in England and all Don got to see of it was the route from our house to the office, London (over the one week they gave him off after Christmas), and an evening in Chester. He worked 7 days a week, roughly 18 hours/day for 3 months. While the children and I toured England, Don worked. It was an act of sacrificial love. He was willing to put in those kinds of hours so the children and I could experience England.
Now, he's there for 2 weeks, and is finally getting to see a little of the country. He also told me that a co-worker that was there (living in an apartment in the same village as our house) when we were and that picks him up for work every morning and returns him at night had agreed to pick him up and take him to church in Culcheth today. Don called my dear friend, Anne, who asked him to come to lunch with her family at her home after church. So he got to see all our friends at New Church, then spent the afternoon with Anne, Andrew and Christine at their home.
He needed to do some shopping - to start knocking away at the long list I gave him of things to bring home - so he and Anne walked to Sainsbury's (the store in Culcheth where we did all our grocery shopping), picked up a few items, then parted company with Anne. From there, he walked to our old neighborhood and knocked on the door of my friend and neighbor, Kim, who happened to be home. He got to visit with Kim, Kevin, and Daelyn's playmate, Sam, for a while, then he and Kim took a quick run to the Co-Op (so he could scratch more items off my list) and Kim took him back to his hotel.
I asked him if it felt familiar.
"It was like coming home after work, Patti," he said. My heart leapt. I miss England and my friends so desperately. Hearing the names of our old stomps and thinking about Don walking those same old roads again made me choke a little. Often, on the way home from work, and very often on Sunday night, Don would run up to the Co-Op for me to pick up milk. There he was, on the same road, the same path, heading home.
Our old house is up for sale. I guess the owner hasn't been able to rent it out, so he's decided to sell it. While Don was in the cul-de-sac, one of the children that used to play with mine saw Don.
"Did you speak to Louis?" I asked.
"Yep. And I think he knew who I was," Don said.
"Why? What did he say?"
"He asked if Daelyn could come out to play!"
Ah, England. Not much has changed, apparently.
This evening, I tried to call Don on his cellphone. My calling card, which had over an hour left of calling time when I called his hotel on Thursday, jumped down to only 7 minutes of calling time. So much for cheap incoming international calls. I think I'll stick to the landline.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Absence makes...
...the Don grow fonder.
His e-mail this morning said, "It was a rough night without you - woke up several times and couldn't figure out why you weren't in the bed yet."
Ain't he sweet?
His e-mail this morning said, "It was a rough night without you - woke up several times and couldn't figure out why you weren't in the bed yet."
Ain't he sweet?
Thursday, September 06, 2007
School Blues
Today was the first REAL day of school for Daelyn. Tuesday was mostly spent learning rules, getting used to the new classroom, and the parents stayed with their new Kindergarteners until almost 10 a.m. That left little time for classwork before 1 p.m., when they got out.
Yesterday, I was in the classroom with Daelyn. In the afternoon after lunch, I was sitting at the Teacher's desk doing some work for her when he slipped out of his chair, appeared at my elbow, and climbed into my lap.
"Okay, Mom, I'm ready to go home now," he announced softly in my ear as he wrapped his little arm under my chin and around my head. He was tired and had had enough of school. After all, I was there with him. Surely I ought to be able to leave whenever he was ready and take him home.
I gently explained that we couldn't leave and that he had to finish out the day. He grudgingly returned to his seat, but survived the rest of the day.
Today, he bounded in the door, quite pleased with himself.
"I had a great day today at school, Mom," he beamed.
"That's wonderful, son. I'm so glad. What did you learn?"
He responded with lots of stories. We snuggled for a minute or two so I could welcome him home, he unpacked his backpack and sat down for his snack. I turned my back and, when I turned around again, he was down on the floor cuddling the puppy and, just like that, he started to cry.
"I hate school. I'm never going back again!" he declared.
What, you may ask, caused this huge change in demeanor? I think the realization that he hadn't seen his dog all day long was the straw that broke the camel's back. Then he turned to look at me with a tormented expression and spat out the words, "And I didn't even see Dane ALL DAY!"
Tuesday was exciting and short. Yesterday, his Mama was in the classroom. Today, for the first time, he flew solo, and I think it was just too much for him.
The same thing happened with Deanna, but she was about 2 weeks into school before her meltdown. And it hit Dane at the beginning of the second week. It's the "this was fun to try, but I don't want to do it every day" syndrome. No running in the backyard, playing whatever he wants to play on whatever whim grips him at the moment, being free - that is all a thing of the past for him, and he's smart enough to know it.
I held him, clucked my tongue soothingly, kissed his sweet little face, and welcomed Donovan up to snuggle us both. I talked softly about pushing through and how things would get better (sounding very convincing for a Mom who's struggling so much herself, if I do say so). Then I sent him into his room to change clothes and called Grandpa.
"Can Daelyn come up for a few minutes, Papa?" I asked. I explained about his day and that I thought he needed a little brightness that only grandparents can provide. Grandpa agreed and told me to send him up. I made my way back to his bedroom and suggested he run up through the backyards for a short visit. Daelyn crawled on top of his bed and began scooting under the covers.
"I don't think so, Mommy. I'm just going to stay home and go to sleep."
"Okay," I responded. "But let me go put these things back in the kitchen and I'll come and lay down with you for a few minutes," secretly relieved because I desperately needed a nap, also.
By the time I reached the kitchen, he was running behind me down the hallway.
"I'm going to Grandma's," he yelled over his shoulder as he passed me in the kitchen. "Be back in a while."
Thank God for Grandma's and Grandpa's. I fear if I had laid down with him for a nap, I might have lost my gumption and told him he didn't have to go to school anymore.
I sure was thinking that.
Yesterday, I was in the classroom with Daelyn. In the afternoon after lunch, I was sitting at the Teacher's desk doing some work for her when he slipped out of his chair, appeared at my elbow, and climbed into my lap.
"Okay, Mom, I'm ready to go home now," he announced softly in my ear as he wrapped his little arm under my chin and around my head. He was tired and had had enough of school. After all, I was there with him. Surely I ought to be able to leave whenever he was ready and take him home.
I gently explained that we couldn't leave and that he had to finish out the day. He grudgingly returned to his seat, but survived the rest of the day.
Today, he bounded in the door, quite pleased with himself.
"I had a great day today at school, Mom," he beamed.
"That's wonderful, son. I'm so glad. What did you learn?"
He responded with lots of stories. We snuggled for a minute or two so I could welcome him home, he unpacked his backpack and sat down for his snack. I turned my back and, when I turned around again, he was down on the floor cuddling the puppy and, just like that, he started to cry.
"I hate school. I'm never going back again!" he declared.
What, you may ask, caused this huge change in demeanor? I think the realization that he hadn't seen his dog all day long was the straw that broke the camel's back. Then he turned to look at me with a tormented expression and spat out the words, "And I didn't even see Dane ALL DAY!"
Tuesday was exciting and short. Yesterday, his Mama was in the classroom. Today, for the first time, he flew solo, and I think it was just too much for him.
The same thing happened with Deanna, but she was about 2 weeks into school before her meltdown. And it hit Dane at the beginning of the second week. It's the "this was fun to try, but I don't want to do it every day" syndrome. No running in the backyard, playing whatever he wants to play on whatever whim grips him at the moment, being free - that is all a thing of the past for him, and he's smart enough to know it.
I held him, clucked my tongue soothingly, kissed his sweet little face, and welcomed Donovan up to snuggle us both. I talked softly about pushing through and how things would get better (sounding very convincing for a Mom who's struggling so much herself, if I do say so). Then I sent him into his room to change clothes and called Grandpa.
"Can Daelyn come up for a few minutes, Papa?" I asked. I explained about his day and that I thought he needed a little brightness that only grandparents can provide. Grandpa agreed and told me to send him up. I made my way back to his bedroom and suggested he run up through the backyards for a short visit. Daelyn crawled on top of his bed and began scooting under the covers.
"I don't think so, Mommy. I'm just going to stay home and go to sleep."
"Okay," I responded. "But let me go put these things back in the kitchen and I'll come and lay down with you for a few minutes," secretly relieved because I desperately needed a nap, also.
By the time I reached the kitchen, he was running behind me down the hallway.
"I'm going to Grandma's," he yelled over his shoulder as he passed me in the kitchen. "Be back in a while."
Thank God for Grandma's and Grandpa's. I fear if I had laid down with him for a nap, I might have lost my gumption and told him he didn't have to go to school anymore.
I sure was thinking that.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
I survived the first day of school and Don's departure for England. It will be a short trip this time and he'll be staying in an area with which we're unfamiliar. But he should get to see some of our friends and renew old acquaintances.
After seeing Daelyn safely into his classroom following Assembly this morning, I came home, did a few quick chores, then met a couple of friends for lunch and a stiff margarita. Left the restaurant just in time to pick up Daelyn. My parents came by the house to pray over Don, we packed a few last-minute items, then we headed for the airport. I dropped him and Daelyn to get checked in, then took off to pick up the other two. Both their teachers graciously allowed me to take them out of school about 3 minutes early so we could get to the airport. We sat with Don until he really needed to go through security, said our good-bye's, and headed to Golden Corral for dinner. It's not even 5:30 yet and we're home and the children are in the tub. I promised they could watch "High School Musical" until 6:45 if they hurried through their baths and bedtime preparations. I have a headache that won't quit - probably the culmination of a lot of stress over the last 2 weeks.
One last funny story. Don was sitting at the table sorting through a stack of stuff when I got home with Daelyn. In the stack were a few children's books that he asked Daelyn to put back on the bookshelf for him. Daelyn started through the kitchen, then stopped and turned around.
"You know, Dad, I can read now," he announced.
I snickered. That Mrs. Phillips sure is a good teacher. Only one day of school and she already has those Kindergarteners reading.
After seeing Daelyn safely into his classroom following Assembly this morning, I came home, did a few quick chores, then met a couple of friends for lunch and a stiff margarita. Left the restaurant just in time to pick up Daelyn. My parents came by the house to pray over Don, we packed a few last-minute items, then we headed for the airport. I dropped him and Daelyn to get checked in, then took off to pick up the other two. Both their teachers graciously allowed me to take them out of school about 3 minutes early so we could get to the airport. We sat with Don until he really needed to go through security, said our good-bye's, and headed to Golden Corral for dinner. It's not even 5:30 yet and we're home and the children are in the tub. I promised they could watch "High School Musical" until 6:45 if they hurried through their baths and bedtime preparations. I have a headache that won't quit - probably the culmination of a lot of stress over the last 2 weeks.
One last funny story. Don was sitting at the table sorting through a stack of stuff when I got home with Daelyn. In the stack were a few children's books that he asked Daelyn to put back on the bookshelf for him. Daelyn started through the kitchen, then stopped and turned around.
"You know, Dad, I can read now," he announced.
I snickered. That Mrs. Phillips sure is a good teacher. Only one day of school and she already has those Kindergarteners reading.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Life As I Know It
It's been a busy week as we prepare for the first day of school and Don's return to England. He's been able to negotiate leaving on Tuesday afternoon so he can be there for Daelyn's big day. The children's bookbags are all packed and uniforms are hanging in the closets. I'm almost ready for my first Crafts Show - just a few more items to complete my assortment of bath products and scents.
My mother had some upsetting news this week about her health. There are several problems that were discovered during a check-up on Monday and she could use a lot of prayer. They may all turn out to be nothing but, while we wait to hear, it's a little stressful.
Very little else happening in our lives right now - between my niece, my mother, Daelyn's first year of school and Don's departure looming, I've been under a tremendous amount of stress and have not been sleeping much and crying loads.
I'm tired and distracted - but, then, that seems to be the life of most mothers of 5 year olds.
My mother had some upsetting news this week about her health. There are several problems that were discovered during a check-up on Monday and she could use a lot of prayer. They may all turn out to be nothing but, while we wait to hear, it's a little stressful.
Very little else happening in our lives right now - between my niece, my mother, Daelyn's first year of school and Don's departure looming, I've been under a tremendous amount of stress and have not been sleeping much and crying loads.
I'm tired and distracted - but, then, that seems to be the life of most mothers of 5 year olds.
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