Deanna's Presidential Visit

Deanna's standing in line right now to see President Bush. Her Grandparents were going to see him again and invited her to go with them. She had to be cleared by the Secret Service and we ran out yesterday afternoon and bought her a darling outfit to wear. I had to get her up at 5:30 this morning for the trip, which is only 1 1/2 hours, but they wanted to be there plenty early to get a good place in line.

Deanna called a few minutes ago to tell me they hadn't gotten through the doors yet. But she said that there were more people behind them than in front of them.

She's really excited. When President Bush ran for election the first time, she got up out of bed and came into the living room where I was watching the returns. She sat up with me for several hours, trying to understand the political process (at all of 4 years old) and sharing in my excitement. When it became obvious that we weren't going to have a final decision that night, we both went to bed. The next morning, we turned on the news to see what had happened and heard about the contested race and all the ballot problems. After listening, we committed to each other to pray every day that George W. Bush would be our next president. Right then and there, we knelt on the floor in the living room and asked for God's intervention in this important election.

We kept our commitment and prayed together every day until Bush finally was confirmed. We watched the Inauguration together and cried, thanking the Lord for the godly man He had put in the White House.

She's never forgotten that. So when Grandma and Grandpa invited her to go with them, she was thrilled. I tried to explain to her that she might not get his autograph or get to shake his hand. Last time my parents saw him, they were Patrons (paid good money for that title) and were at a Luncheon with Congressmen, etc., when the President came in. The group was fairly small and that's why Grandma got her cheek kissed and Grandpa got his hand shook. This event is free and open to the public (within limits, of course - you had to submit your name in advance to be investigated by the Secret Service and were issued tickets) so there will likely be thousands of people. It's doubtful Deanna will get very close to the President, but we sure can hope. And even if she doesn't get close, she WILL get to see him in person.

I hope she's not disappointed. And I hope she gets to make personal contact with President Bush. Mostly, I hope this is something she'll always remember.

It's an opportunity I've never had.

Living Room Re-decorating

It was this weekend three years ago that we moved back into our renovated home. On Friday, the race was on. The Contractor was pushing the sub-contractors to finish the job. When I left the house at 2:50 to pick Deanna up at school and get dressed for the house closing, the counters with sinks were still not in - the bathrooms were bare and certainly not usable. The cabinet makers had just brought the cabinetry in and were attaching it to the walls and sealing it. I was trying to hold panic at bay. I trusted our Contractor, but was doubtful we could really move in. However, we were determined. We had friends lined up to help us, a moving van, and childcare. Determined ... that's what we were.

Well, the counters made it and we moved in, amazingly peacefully. I was thinking yesterday about my living room. I love that room. I have great wall sconces and ambient lighting. I have lace panel curtains on the tinted Andersen windows. The walls are a warm white (Country Cream) and the natural wood arch leading from the dining room into the living room is a focal point. We keep this room closed off from the children and dog so it's in decent shape when we have company. My friends who meet with me on Wednesday morning at 6:00 for Devotions can arrive to a neat, clean room, despite the chaos elsewhere in the house. If someone drops by, I can usher them into the living room where we can visit in peace without clutter around us. The problem is this ... I've never really put up pictures in there, and the decorating leaves something to be desired. I want this room to be airy and uncluttered, but cozy and warm and stylish. I think what I've accomplished is neat, sparce, and plain.

I have no vision. I can't even imagine how to transform this room, though I'm sure other people would have plenty of ideas. Yesterday I was thinking about hiring an Interior Decorator, however, I don't want to spend any REAL money to improve the look of the room. Friends of mine have these lovely, warm rooms with beautiful colors that create the atmosphere. I can't change the color of the walls in this room because there's no doorway between the living room and the hall, which opens into other halls and the den. If I tried to paint the living room, I'd have to carry the color into the halls and half the house would have to be repainted.

My sister has a great eye for decorating. I've thought of having her over, but her taste is VERY different from mine. I love her taste. Her home is darling and reflects her personality. But I want MY living room to reflect me, not her.

Surely, there's someone out there who'd be willing to come and look at my living room and give me some ideas that reflect MY taste without me having to pay a fortune. Any volunteers?

Sent me an e-mail or give me a call if you're willing to volunteer your services. It's only one room.

One Begets the Other

Daelyn: "Mama, is Lightning Niehaus your friend?"

Me, struggling to remember if any of my friend's children might use the nickname, "Lightning": "I'm not quite sure, son. Who's Lightning Niehaus?"

Daelyn: "You know, Mama, that lady."

Me: "Do you mean 'Stormy Niehaus'?"

Daelyn: "Yeah, her. She's the one."

Spirit (or spirits) Day

Yesterday was Spirit Day at school. Our Girls' Volleyball Team is going to State (or something like that) so all the students were supposed to dress in red, white and gold (the school colors) and a Pep Rally was scheduled.

After dropping Deanna and Dane off, Daelyn and I were driving through the parking lot on our way home. Several of the high schoolers and middle schoolers had on quite outlandish outfits. It was comical driving past them, looking them over.

Me: "They sure look goofy, some of them. They really went all out on their costumes."

Daelyn: "I don't understand. Why are they all dressed like that?"

Me: "Because it's Spirit Day."

Daelyn: "What IS Spirit Day?"

Me: "It's a day of celebration. We celebrate our school."

Daelyn: "Mama, why would we want to celebrate spirits. Aren't they bad?"

Me: Silence. How do you respond to that?

Card Tutor

Daelyn didn't want to go to the Y with me today while I worked out, so Grandma said he could go over there. I stopped to pick him up on my way home and he jumped up off the floor in the living room.

"Come with me, Mama. I got something to show you." He took me by the hand and lead me through the house into the Florida room in the back. As I was greeting my parents, he ran over to Grandma's card table, snatched up a piece of paper, and returned to me, grinning.

I glanced at the piece of paper. It had a capital D with a line under it. At the bottom of the page, it said "388". Next to that was a column headed by G. The number at the bottom of that column said "155".

I grinned at Daelyn. Grandma had been whomped at cards by the third of the Doughty children. Before I had a chance to respond, Daelyn laughed and yelled, "Grandma's a goose egg!!"

I raised my eyebrows and looked at my mother. She shrugged gently and said, "I'm a goose egg." Daelyn danced off to watch TV again and Mama added, "The worst part is, Daelyn lays all his cards on the table and I tell him which ones to play. I beat myself. "

Tough day for Grandma, but it sure made Daelyn's.

Temper, temper

Daelyn's going through a stage where he says mean things to me, usually when he's disciplined. He'll go running from the room, yelling, "You're the WORST Mommy in the whole world!" Often, he adds, "You're a dumb Mommy."

Now, the last one is particularly problematic, since it's not only disrespect of his mother and ugliness that's way over the top, but we also do not allow our children to use the words, "dumb", "stupid", or "shut up". This expletive is several offenses wrapped into one.

We've been clamping down hard on him when he talks this way. But, the truth is, Daelyn has a lot of Irish blood AND an Irish temper, just like me. Add testosterone to that and it's a recipe for disaster.

Some of his ill-manners are quite understandable to me, since I struggle with an Irish temper, as well. I'm a happy, joyful person by nature, and have learned to control my anger most of the time, but when I lose it, I lose it BIG. Once, while in college, I received a phone call that angered me. I pulled the phone out of the wall. Once, I was angry for weeks after someone who responded to my car for sale ad in the newspaper hit my new car with my old car in the driveway of my house. I had to be avoided by my friends until I was able to "shake it off".

So Daelyn's temper is understandable, however, totally unacceptable. We've been working very hard at getting it under control with time-outs, being sent to his bedroom, restriction from this or that, etc. We've tried spanking, but it only seems to exacerbate the problem.

Last night, Daelyn was thrilled with dinner. We had left-over pesto chicken over fettucini with honied carrots. His exuberance was refreshing.

"Mama, thank you for this WONDERFUL meal. You're the best Mommy EVER!!"

Somehow, the compliment wasn't quite as meaningful as it would have been without previous negative comments to the opposite. Nastiness can't be forgotten by one episode of extremely affectionate talk.

I glanced at Deanna who was smirking.

"So, Mommy's the best now, not the dumbest?" She looked over at me and rolled her eyes.

"He's fickle, honey. Just let it go."

"What's 'fickle', Mom?" Dane asked.

"Stick around for a few minutes, son, and you'll have a great example."

By this morning, I had lost my title of "best mom" and was back to "stinky mom". One day, perhaps, my changeling will be more stable and appreciate his mother. Until then, we discipline, love, and try hard to teach our little one the pitfalls of temper.

Freedom Flag

Last night, we were driving home from downtown. On the way, we passed an Adult Bookstore - the only one in the City. It met with a huge amount of controversy and was closed and reopened, closed and reopened several times. Christians would lobby against it and the government would come down on it, forcing it to close. Then, their high-powered attorneys would get some injunction or something, and it would reopen. This went on for several years.

Everytime we passed by it, which was at least twice weekly (to and from church), I'd pray against it, asking the Lord to close it down and to keep that evil out of our city. Many other people were doing the same thing. After two years or so of the closing-reopening cycles, it went completely out of business. Interestingly enough, they always flew a HUGE American flag out front, which they didn't remove when they closed the doors for the last time.

Don commented, after driving by last night, that the flag was pretty tattered. It was old, torn, and faded. The analogy simply jumped into my mind.

Isn't that exactly what Adult Bookstores do to the flag? They stomp on our freedom, taking advantage of it for evil purposes, using the freedom hard-fought for by many, including those who gave their lives, for their own selfish purposes while slowly but surely shredding the flag that allows that freedom. As I thought about that torn, dirtied flag, I realized that everytime we choose to misappropriate freedom or treat it fast and loose, we do the same thing.

Our flag should do more than just remind us of our country. It should remind us of our awsome, moral responsibility to hold it high by our every action.

Time to Take Time

Since school started, we've been living a new family schedule. I wake the children at 6:30, so they have lots of time to get ready for school without having to rush. They usually have their backpacks on their backs and are ready to walk out the door 10 minutes before we leave to walk to school - chores done, spelling words and memory verses reviewed, etc. Very peaceful for everyone.

When they get home from school, they change clothes and lay out their school clothes for the next day, then have a snack and visit with Mom. Next is homework, then playtime. We eat dinner at 5:00, and have plenty of time to waste together at the table.

After dinner, the children clear their places and get their baths. Don doesn't get home from work until 6:15-ish, so they get to visit with Dad while he eats. Most evenings, I read to them for 20 minutes or so, then they take their medicines, brush teeth, and it's off to bed by 7:00 p.m.

While they bathe, I clean up the kitchen, so I'm ready to read to them at 6:30. Once they're in bed, Don and I have time together. We've never, in our 11 years of marriage, talked so much. We have two hours most evenings to visit and talk about issues before we head towards bed.

The really funny thing is, the more I talk to him, the more I want to talk to him. During the day, I think of things I want to tell him and questions I want to ask him. It's amazing - this time with him is so precious. Not that I ever stopped, but I'm falling in love with him even more. Life is good - school time, family time, time to share about the Lord, reading time, bonding time, chore time, and MOM AND DAD TIME - Yahoo!!!

Our new schedule has brought new life to all of us. God is good. Life is good. YEAH!




On another note, I've finished four workouts at the Y so far (Mon. through Wed. and today) and they just get better. I'm feeling better already and am having fun. A lot of my friends workout at the Y so I get to socialize while exercising. Could life get any better?

Interview with God

Click on the link below, then follow the directions. It's well worth the effort.

P.S. Make sure your volume is turned up.


http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com/

Signs, signs, and more signs

My parents, as I've mentioned before, have become very politically-active in recent years. With the general election less than a month away, my father has been very busy putting out signs in support of all his Republican buddies. Almost every house on our street has a sign in the yard for a Senator, Mayor, or someone else running who Daddy's supporting. You can see him walking up and down the street with signs tucked under his arm and a hammer in his hand. We've seen him and so, I'm sure, has everyone else.

On Monday, Daelyn and I were stopped at a stoplight about 2 miles from our house (at least a dozen blocks away). Daelyn was sitting quietly in his booster seat, a rarity, to be sure. Then he said, "Mama, Grandpa put those signs up."

I turned to see where he was pointing, then turned around and looked. The corner was full of signs for different candidates. However, obviously, my father had not put those signs up. In the first place, it was entirely too far from our house - neighborhood is one thing, the entire city is something else. In the second place, they were on gas station property and Daddy only puts them in the yards of people he knows. Thirdly, they were for Democrats and candidates that my father is not supporting.

"No, son," I explained, "Grandpa didn't put up those signs."

"Yes, huh!" Daelyn responded. (Where does he get this "Huh" business. I'm an English major. I SURE didn't teach him.)

"No, Daelyn, he really didn't." In an effort to convince without confusing, I chose the first reason on my list and explained, "This is too far from our house. Grandpa wouldn't put signs all the way out here, hon."

Daelyn seemed only slightly convinced, but he snorted and closed the subject.

The next day, we were returning from running some errands. My parents had planned on attending a funeral of a mutual friend and then spending time with my sister who lives near the cemetery. They weren't expected home until late afternoon.

About two blocks from that gas station corner, I noticed an attractive, older man, very well-dressed, walking down a sidewalk with signs under his arm. It took only seconds for me to realize it was Daddy, on his way back from the funeral. I saw my mother in the car parked just a little further down the street.

"There's Grandpa!" I yelled. The kids clamored to the windows to see him.

"What's he doing, Mama," Deanna asked.

"Putting up campaign signs, it looks like," I answered.

"I KNEW IT!" Daelyn yelled, triumphantly. If Grandpa could be THAT far away from home, he certainly could have put up the signs just two blocks away.

There's absolutely NO convincing him now. As far as he's concerned, Grandpa has put up every campaign sign in the city. All he needed was proof, and he got it.

I've decided to give up the fight.

Exercise time

We joined the Y yesterday. Years ago, when Deanna was a toddler, we had a membership so she could take Gymnastics. She enjoyed the classes, but we haven't been Y'ers for quite some time now. They built a huge, new facility last year and most of my friends have joined. We noticed the other day that they had completely torn down the old Gymnastics Center where Deanna took her classes.

Anyway, I desperately need an exercise program and Deanna could definately benefit from one. Her pediatrician recommended the Y. After the conversation I had with Don about new furniture, I decided it was time to call the exercise equipment question. So we visited on Saturday and decided it was a good fit for our family. The biggest plus, however, was that it was a no-risk offer.

Through Don's job, we can join without a signing fee and they give us a 10% discount on the monthly payments. We can drop out at any time if it's not working out for us with no penalty or loss of money. Then, to add a little gravy, they made a mistake when processing our membership and charged us only $30 for the first month instead of the normal $60 fee. I told them that I didn't want to complain and would certainly accept a membership at a deep discount, but I didn't quite understand. They laughed and explained that they had made a mistake and that I should just be thankful.

I worked out this morning for an hour (actually, we were there for an hour, but I had an orientation session first, so I really only worked out for about 1/2 an hour) and burned about 150 calories. This is just a drop in the bucket, I know, but every little bit helps and, next time, I do a harder, longer routine on the Elipse.

I happily told Don to mark the treadmill off the budget. And I'm working on the bike. The sooner we can mark items off, the sooner I might actually get my furniture!

Tree Farm

Daelyn and I picked up 6 pizzas yesterday and took them to the school so the 3rd and 4th grades could have pizza parties, their reward for 100% class participation at the Chuck E. Cheese Fund Raiser on Monday night.

After dropping them off, we piled back in the van to head home for lunch. The smell of pizza fresh from the oven filled the van. Daelyn commented how good it smelled, then asked if we could have pizza for lunch, my very thoughts.

We headed to CiCi's where I ordered anchovy pizza - YUM! We had a wonderful meal, then headed home. Pulling out of the parking lot, I was looking both directions and thought about the tree farm right up the road. We've purchased our Christmas tree at this same farm for the last 20 years - until last year, when they closed. We loved Bailey's - acres and acres of beautiful, perfectly groomed trees, the smell of fresh-cut boughs in the air, burn barrels to gather around for warmth, hot boiled peanuts being sold at the shack, and lights strung so customers could choose even after dark. We'd stand around and take pictures while the young employee cut out choice down with a saw, then watch them load it onto the trailer and follow the tractor back up to the shed. There, it would be shaken out on a special stand to remove all the dead needles (an amazing thing to watch), then they'd put it on the prep table where bottom boughs could be removed to your specifications so the tree would fit snugly in your stand. If heighth needed to come off, again, they'd cut it per your request, carefully measuring to be sure your tree would fit into your house. Then they'd put it through the netting, wrapping it nicely so it was easy to move and boughs wouldn't be broken off in transit. If you wanted, they'd put your stand on the tree for you, saving you that step when you got home. Then, they'd tie it to the top of your car, you'd pay your bill, and off you'd go, singing Christmas carols the whole way home and often stopping along the way to look at light displays in people's yards.

Ah, the memories. Twenty years' worth. But Bailey's closed last year. The owner just was tired of trying to keep it up on his own. He has a full-time job and would spend every Saturday during the year grooming and watering, replanting and caring for the trees. He took all his vacation time over the Christmas season every year to run the farm.

"I don't need this," Syl told me. "I have a good-paying job. This is just too much for me. I didn't mind doing it all these years, but I'm just tired of it. I want a Saturday once in a while to myself and I want to go on a REAL vacation."

While I understood how he felt, I still terribly miss the farm. It was only about 2 miles from our house, but tucked away in a remote, rural area. We always felt like we had driven out into the country (all 10 minutes it took us to get there through traffic).

I sighed out loud and commented, "I hate that Bailey's has closed. I miss it."

Daelyn: "What? What's Bailey's?"

Me: "You know, the tree farm where we used to get our Christmas trees. It's right there down that road."

Daelyn: "I remember, Mama. Why did they close down?"

Me: "Well, it was just too much work for the owner, hon. He had another job and he spent ALL his spare time working at the tree farm. It was just too much for him. He couldn't handle it all by himself anymore."

Daelyn was very quiet for a while. Then, in a small, serious voice he said,

"Mama, I'll talk to my boss and see if I can get off work early so I can help Mr. Syl."

Sweet Daelyn. Only 4 years old and already hoisting the cares of the world onto his shoulders.

I snickered, wondering who his "boss" was and just what "work" he was going to leave early. He heard me and got very offended.

Okay, okay. I'm a rotten Mommy. I shouldn't have laughed when my 4-yr. old is trying to help his fellow man.

Furniture . . . PLEASE!!

I'm on the hunt for new furniture. Most of the pieces I had when Don and I married were accumulated from different sources and didn't match. I spent my money fixing up the house, not buying furniture. The only really nice piece of furniture I owned was a queen-sleeper sofa that I special-ordered in the fabric and design I wanted. My coffee table and end tables were bought at a yard sale - somebody else's throw-aways. My bed had been given to me. You get the general idea. Nothing matched.

Then Don and I married. He brought with him a few pieces of furniture, most of it old and manly - nothing I would ever have chosen for myself. But at least we had a decent dresser, a few chairs to go with our dining room table, and a loveseat for our den.

We've been married 11 years now. My lovely couch had seen better days 6 years ago. Now it's covered with a removable slipcover which has to be neated up daily and is messy immediately upon being sat on. Don's loveseat is falling apart and our bedroom furniture is just too bulky for my tastes.

When we gutted and redid our house, my parents began getting rid of everything they didn't want. They figured we had plenty of room, so all their throw-aways ended up here. My father had an old recliner that his mother had given him before her death. It has great sentimental value for my father, but NOT for Mom. She had decided to put it out on the street, despite the fact that my father sat in it for hours every day, because it didn't go along with her decor. My father asked and I took pity on him. So our living room has a blue spray-painted nogahide recliner (the most uncomfortable chair I've ever sat in) in the middle of it. In addition, my mother designed and had built for her in the Orient a sewing center. My mother was quite a seamstress in her day. The sewing center is room-sized and contains huge drawers for fabric, notion drawers, a full-sized cutting board, a drawer of spindles for thread as well as a cut-out area for a sewing machine. My mother used it for years but doesn't sew anymore and decided to rid herself of her teak sewing center. My sisters all begged her not to sell it. It has great sentimental value for our family. She decided MY BEDROOM was the perfect place for it and, before I knew it, I had inherited this huge catch-all (I don't sew) that takes up the entire wall on which I had intended to put a loveseat for private conversations with Don or just relaxing and reading.

I haven't yet come up with any solutions to the pieces of furniture I inherited from Mom, but I'm certainly ready to get rid of everything else in the house. We need a new entertainment center (the cabinet doors on ours constantly fall off and it's low and long instead of tall and narrow, which is what we need). I want a new couch for the living room and a new loveseat for the den. I have managed to accumulate a couple of nice leather gliders/recliners for the living room and den.

Down the road, I want to replace Deanna's twin bed with a full-sized so we have a bed for married guests. Her bed will go into the toy room as a spare. Then, if Grandma and Grandpa Doughty visit, they can have Deanna's full bed and she can move into the toy room.

I'd also like to replace our dining room table (a hand-me-down that was my parents when I was growing up and is in terrible shape) and get a china cabinet and hutch to match. In the kitchen, we have an old pressed-board microwave stand that pokes out way too much. I'd like to replace it with a natural wood corner stand that matches the natural wood kitchen table and my kitchen cabinets.

So I hunt ... and ask Don to buy ... and when he never responds, I hunt some more ... and ask Don to buy. Anybody notice a pattern here?

Yesterday, I found a leather sectional with 3 reclining seats and a chaise. I WANT IT. It has two tacky consoles stuck inbetween the other pieces. I removed the consoles at the store and the sofa without them was classy-looking. It's amazing how much two consoles can cheapen a beautiful piece of furniture. Anyway, the consoles are damaged (another reason they're tacky) so I wouldn't want them, anyway. The Manager quoted me a price of $700 for the couch. Remember, I said LEATHER. Now the big question is, will Don be willing to part with the money?

I asked him again if he has any intention of buying the couch for me. He responded, "You want a treadmill, a new car for me, a couch, a Y Membership, and a bike. I'm a little overwhelmed."

I can understand his point. It is all a little overwhelming. However, if he'd just begin making purchases, I'd feel like we're at least accomplishing SOMETHING.

Maybe we can have a few more conversations and nail down one of these to purchase right now. With a little planning and a push here and there for Don, perhaps I might get some new furniture within the next couple of years.

Anybody out there in Blogland want a blue nogahide recliner and a teak room-size sewing center?

Complaining Species

For the last several weeks, our Sunday School Class has been studying Exodus. Last week, our teacher asked all of us to write a first-person journal entry as if we were one of the Israelites wandering in the desert. What would we say about our experience?

I've always been a little critical of the Israelites. God did so much for them and, yet, they were an ungrateful people who complained continuously. They groaned that life was better for them back in Egypt and it would be better to be a slave than lost in the wilderness. They complained that they didn't have food, so God provided mannah. Then they complained that they didn't have meat, so God provided fowl. This was all within days of them crossing the Red Sea and watching Pharaoh's armies being destroyed when the waters closed up behind them. How could they experience such tremendous miracles in their midst and still grumble and complain. How could they witness 24-hours a day the presence of Yahweh in the pillar of fire and a cloud, leading them through the desert, and still think they would perish. God's visible presence was with them, and they still doubted.

When I sat at the table on Sunday morning, thinking, pondering in my dramatic way, how the Israelites must have felt, I experienced something completely new. I began to understand their fears. For centuries, they had been separated from their own land and worshipping their God had been a challenge. Although they had maintained their hope, I'm not sure they all really had a deep faith. Their faith was less theirs and more their ancestors. And Moses was leading them. Within their lifetime, he had been an Egyptian, one of their enslavers. Suddenly, they're supposed to trust him and believe that he speaks for this God that they barely know. Everything around them is foreign and scary, even this faith that they are commanded to practice. Suddenly, they are faced with LAWS, RULES. Everything is well-ordered and dictated. This experience had to be mind-boggling.

Add to that human nature. I have a beloved friend that, many years ago, desperately needed a new car, but had no money to buy one. She prayed and prayed and asked the Lord to provide for her. While at work one day and listening to the radio, she participated in a call-in game and won a key to a car. Several keys were given out. Then the key-winners met at a car dealership on a Saturday morning and each tried their key in a brand new car. The one whose key started the car got to drive it home. As you've already guessed, my friend's key started the car. GOD GAVE HER A CAR. It was amazing and miraculous, but God's provision for her was steadfast. She needed a car and had no other way to obtain one - God provided.

All of us have experienced miracles in our lives, but does that keep us from complaining for the rest of our lives? Of course not, because we're human. We can experience a miracle like the one my friend did and, the very next day, complain to the Lord about some other area of our life. All of us have done it. We're a complaining species. It seems to be almost impossible to hold the memory of God's miracles close enough that we think of them instead of our problems.

Can I really blame the Israelites for their complaining in the desert? God didn't. He faithfully, time after time, responded to their complaining with acts of love. He does the same for us today. He understands our humanness, like a parent who watches their tired child acting out. While we know it's wrong, we understand what's happening to them and are filled with compassion. Instead of spanking, we take them in our arms, snuggle them close, and sing a gentle lullabye. Does God do any less for us? Did he do any less for his children in the desert?

I don't want to be a complaining, grumpy child. I want to be worthy of the miracles and faithfulness of our Lord. I want to hold his love for me and provision for me so close that my focus is constantly on Him. I want to BAN grumbling and complaining. I want to focus on all the blessings God has bestowed on me.

I want to be less human and take on the image of Our Father. I want to remember always the example of the Israelites in the wilderness and work hard to be different.

Princesses

Below are pictures of the table centerpiece, Her Royal Highness Princess Deanna, the Royal Throne, and the Guest Princesses at Table.

The Party Family

Yesterday was Deanna's birthday. We've had three days of partying. If this is how things go at 10, what will it be like when she turns 18?

On Saturday, she had a Princess Party. We invited 4 friends, asked them to dress accordingly, and, as they arrived, Don announced them. They were escorted to the Prep Table where they received blush, glitter and lip gloss as well as their tiara and ring. The name of a Disney princess was pinned on their backs and they were instructed to ask only "yes, no" questions to detrermine who their princess was. They they were escorted into the living room to join the other princesses, again being announced by Don (in his suit).

After all had arrived and been "prepped", we moved on to other games. After games, we ate. I served cream puffs, lemon bars, Gardetto's Mix, and cheese straws. Punch was the beverage of the day and pink was the color. I made the punch with Raspberry Sherbet, pineapple juice and Sprite, so it was a lovely pink color, also. I floated pink rose-scented and shaped candles in a crystal bowl as part of the centerpiece. Pink balloons were everywhere. I had printed pictures of Disney princesses off the internet and mounted them on cardstock, then hole punched them and made a hanger out of curling ribbon. Deanna's chair was covered in a pink plastic tablecloth and tied down with curling ribbon so it looked like a throne.

Then I brought out the Castle Cake. The girls ate their weight in cream puffs, but the cake was poorly attended. Deanna opened her presents, we gave out treat bags, and recessed to the Den for the movie watching - the Princess Bride.

All-in-all, it was a very fun party, albeit exhausting for me. I almost hated that there were only 4 girls here, after all the effort I went to. I'll post some pictures tomorrow.

On Sunday, her actual birthday, we did very little, since we had church. We ordered out Papa John's pizza for dinner and Deanna opened her presents from us, her grandparents who live in West Virginia and her Aunt in Colorado. Low key. Small. Quiet. Lovely.

Today, we had our school fund-raiser at Chuck E. Cheese, which was a great opportunity to make more money for the school by inviting the family members. We all gathered, prayed, ate, sang "Happy Birthday" yet again, then had cake and opened presents. This was probably the most fun party for Deanna. While she loved the Saturday event, and this was probably the last year she could pull off something like a Princess Party, tonight was more fun for her because ALL her friends were there. On the way home in the van, we ran through the list of the kids in her class. Her class had 100% participation!! It was amazing.

So, we're exhausted and I have a terrible headache, but her 10th birthday was fun and we're finally through all the festivities and the fund-raiser. Now I get to wait to find out how much moeny we made.

In the meanwhile, I better do some laundry.

New Layout for Deanna

I rearranged Deanna's room on Monday. We're on a Quest for neatness in our house. Dane keeps his room neat as a pin. Daelyn works regularly on the Toy Room. Deanna invests the time in her room, but never quite seems to accomplish much.

There are several problems. The first is that Deanna is a packrat. She keeps everything from ticket stubs to candy wrappers. Then the clutter overwhelms her and she can't seem to get through it to keep her room clean. Several weeks ago, I offered her a Keepsake Box for all her treasures. I explained that she could put everything she didn't use regularly in the Box and keep it in her closet. Then she'd always have those things, but they wouldn't be cluttering her dresser and headboard (which has a bookshelf built into it).

Another problem was her bed. In order to best utilize the space in her room, her bed was against a wall with the headboard in the corner. We put her bookshelf at the foot of her bed, turned like a footboard, so her bed was surrounded on 3 sides. It was almost impossible to make, stayed incredibly messy, and she used the foot of it for a storage area. Anything she didn't want to take the time to put away would get thrown on the foot of her bed, her "catch-all".

I began pondering what to do about this situation several days previous. I decided she definately needed more order and to get rid of her "cache", so moving the bed was in order. I got out my tape measure Monday morning and went to work.

Nothing is where it used to be. The bed is centered on the wall across from where it used to be tucked away, with the headboard against the wall and the bed poking out into the room (which significantly minimizes floor space, but I decided Deanna seldom uses the floor space, anyway, so it doesn't much matter). Her dresser, desk, and bookshelf have all been moved. Her room is now cozier and MUCH neater. Her bed is easy to make and is the focal point of the room, which is appropriate since the theme for the room (horses) is carried out in her comforter and dust ruffle.

I filled up her Keepsake Box and deposited it in her closet. Then I thoroughly dusted all the furniture (which you can now see) and threw out TONS of stuff (being careful to save anything "important"). Her desk and bookcase still need work, but her desk is going to take several hours of concerted effort. I figured she could reorganize the bookshelf herself by the end of the week in her 10-minute daily room clean-up time.

She's thrilled with the new lay-out and how easy it is to make her bed. I dangled in front of her nose the carrot of "if you get your desk cleaned off, you can do your homework in here everyday at your desk while you listen to your music". Homerun. She can't wait for this weekend to get her desk cleaned off.

She's happier, I'm very pleased, and we're finally getting some order into her room, which has been one of the challenges in my life.

Now if I can just come up with a plan for my room-length sewing center catch-all that clutters up my bedroom. One thing at a time, I guess.

The Nature of Relationships

The scripture for my devotional this morning was, "It is good and pleasant when God's people live together in peace!" (Psalm 133:1) The commentary talked about the importance of fellowship with other believers and said, "Your association with fellow Christians should be uplifting, enlightening, encouraging, and consistent."

About two weeks ago, we had a situation with Deanna. She wanted to sit in the front seat on the way home from school and to run errands. I told her that it's against the law (we have a front passenger-side airbag and the law states children must be 12 before they can sit in the front seat if there's an airbag) but she had to push it further and said, "All my friends do it."

She couldn't have hit a hotter button for me. I spent my teen years isolated from pretty much everybody at the private school I went to because their parents were MUCH more permissive than mine and I knew better than to even ask. I suffered for years but am much the stronger for it. I've never been "drunk" in my life and I've never done ANY illegal drugs, even in my most rebellious season. My parents drew a very clear line in the sand and, even though I didn't like it, I respected it. Even though I lived a lonely life for 4 years, I have few regrets and am a happy, contented, well-adjusted adult.

Deanna got a 30-minute lecture. I don't think she'll ever again dare to pull the "all my friends..." line. The truth is, Don and I are accountable for her. We will one day stand before God and have to justify our actions. If they (OUR actions) have endangered or permitted sinfulness, we will pay the ultimate price for that. Not only are we accountable in Heaven, but we would pay a heavy price on earth if she broke the law and we had an accident. I would be taken to Jail and Deanna could be seriously injured, even killed. God forbid she die or have brain damage. How would I ever live with myself?

I don't care what other people choose. If they are willing to risk their children's lives because "it's only a couple of blocks home from school" or they cave to their children's whims (truthfully, though, I'm not sure "all her friends", or even ANY of her friends, are really permitted to do this), they will pay the price, not me. I have no intention of paying the price for that one either here on earth or in Heaven. Deanna won't be drinking beer at 16 because "everybody else does". She won't be going to poorly supervised parties at 17 because "all my friends are going to be there". She won't be driving around at night on the weekends with a car full of girlfriends at 16 just because "everybody's else's parents think it's fine".

Other people's standards are NOT mine. My children may miss out on some things, but, in the end, I think their lives will be happier and they'll have less to regret. Life would sure be easier for them, though, if their friends supported the limits we put on them. I pray Deanna has a girlfriend who would rather come over and spend time with Deanna than ride around at night with her other friends. And I pray Deanna has the strength of character to shamelessly stand up for what her parents have taught her.

Relationships are so important to our lives. But the trick is to build ones that "uplift, enlighten, encourage and are consistent" instead of tearing down, discouraging, challenging towards the negative, and always leaving you feeling uncertain of their commitment.

I want those positive relationships for me but, more importantly, for my children. It deserves some concerted prayer and thought.

Not a Good Day for the Lion, either

Daelyn and I went to the zoo with a friend today. It was beautiful, cool, and the animals were very active. We saw animals we've never caught a glimpse of before today, like the lion.

Daelyn stood and watched the lion for several minutes and then asked,

"Mama, is that a Mommy or a Daddy lion?"

"I think it's a Daddy, son," I commented, noticing the mane.

"I thought so," he continued. "I figured it must be a Daddy 'cause it didn't have on lipstick."

You Know It's Time for a New Computer when...

...you write an awesome post (at least a dozen paragraphs long) and, just as you're proofreading prior to publishing, the computer goes down and you lose everything, which is exactly what happened to me on Friday.

Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to reproduce it. But today, laundry awaits. And you can never be sure when this old computer is going to go haywire.

Quarantine

All three kids were home sick yesterday. Deanna and Dane had stomach bugs, Daelyn is running a low-grade fever - possibly strept.

It's amazing how small a normally large home can get when three children are all miserable in it at once. Deanna and Dane had waves of nausea and spent the day carrying around throw-up buckets. Despite my best efforts to keep them separated, they were all irritable (with each other) and overtired and I broke up more fights than I care to remember.

At one point, Dane was sitting on the footstool for our glider/recliner. He had pulled it in front of the TV and was peacefully watching a movie, with the throw-up bucket over his face, minding his own business. I was sitting at the computer doing some work on a fund-raiser I'm chairing for the school. Daelyn shot down off the loveseat and pounded Dane in the back, completely unprovoked and for no apparent reason (except, of course, that he's overtired and feels bad). Dane looked at me with big eyes that quickly began filling with tears. I shouted at Daelyn who climbed back onto the loveseat and burst into tears, shrieking with grief over his own actions (or the knowledge that the spanking spoon was very near at hand).

Around mid-morning, the school secretary called to touch base with me about the fund-raiser and asked how the kids were doing.

"They're all coming to school tomorrow. I know Daelyn isn't old enough for Kindergarten yet, but you'll have to find a place for him. They're getting OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!"

She cracked up. Being a mother of three herself, she fully understood, not to mention the fact that during our brief conversation, we were interrupted 3 or 4 times by fighting children that needed correction.

Having one child sick is bad enough. They're very labor-intensive buggers when they're ill. But three at the same time is a little much. Add to that Don's birthday (which was yesterday) and a fund-raiser that I HAD to get materials for out to the teachers, and yesterday was quite a challenge.

Today, Deanna and Dane returned to school (at least for a while). Daelyn has a 9:15 with the doctor for a strept test. I'm hoping and praying for a good nap.

If Mommy doesn't get some sleep, the children will be sending ME to school by Friday.

Hollywood, Here I Come

Deanna's home from school today, sick to her stomach. She and Daelyn are building with blocks. Deanna designed a beautiful house with spires.

Daelyn: "Mama, look at this beautiful house Deanna built. It looks like a castle."

Me: "It IS beautiful, son. Deanna, maybe you'll be an architect when you grow up."

Daelyn: "I want to be a movie star and act for other people."

Me: "I'm quite sure people would pay to see you act. You're so cute."

Deanna: "He IS cute."

Daelyn: "I don't think I'm cute."

Talented AND humble. I dunno. Doesn't seem to fit the typical Hollywood image.

Ringing Contract

Wednesday, at the beginning of Handbell Practice, I was helping the other ringers lay out all the bells. Dane plays F and G but one or two of the pieces we're practicing have an F#, so he needed the F natural, the F# and the G all out where he could reach them.

As I put the three bells on the table in front of him, plus the B and C that he plays in only one piece, he yelled,

"Hey!! What are you doing? I only signed on to play 2 bells."

The Missing Jack-knife

I found it! I found it! I found it, I found it, I found it.

I've been on a deep-cleaning binge since the children went back to school, trying once again to unclutter and divest of junk. In the kitchen on my bar counter, as well as in the Den and probably every other room in the house, I have a junk bowl. Friends who are much better at keeping their homes in order than me have told me they have a junk drawer that they toss all the loose items into and clean out about once every three months. I don't have ANY spare drawers in my kitchen or den, so I use a bowl.

Anyway, I dumped the kitchen bowl out on the counter today to get rid of junk that's accumulated in it. As I was sorting through refrigerator magnets without the magnet, hair bows and autographed pictures of Santa, I finally got to the bottom of the bowl to discover DANE'S STAINLESS POCKET KNIFE that my brother, Uncle Chuckie, gave him months ago.

I can't wait for him to get home so I can present it to him with a big grin.

Almost makes this drudgery of cleaning out everything worthwhile.

The Art of Cleaning

Over the weekend, we all relaxed, taking advantage of Daddy's absence. By Sunday afternoon, the house was a disaster - every room scattered with the refuse of a lazy couple of days. I asked the children to help me put some order back in our lives before the school week started and before Daddy got home.

Daelyn was assigned the Den, Deanna helped me in the kitchen, and Dane got to work on his bedroom, which both boys and a male guest had pretty-well destroyed.

In about 20 minutes, Dane bounded into the kitchen.

"Mama, get the vacuum cleaner, quick. Bring it to my bedroom. Please don't wait." He was very insistent, so I got the vacuum out and headed down the hall. Dane's room was still a disaster. I wasn't quite sure what the vacuum was for.

"I'll be done in one minute, Mom. I just want to clean everything out of my closet so you can vacuum it out for me."

As busy as I was, I didn't see just standing there, waiting, so I suggested he call me when he was ready for the cleaning part, and went back to work in the kitchen.

Shortly, Dane reappeared and was ready for the vacuuming. I did the closet for him, then he instructed Daelyn to neatly put all his own shoes back in the closet by pairs.

"You do your side, I'll do mine," he told his brother.

"When you're done, call me again," I said, "and I'll vacuum the rest of the floor for you."

I had just gotten back to work in the kitchen when Don arrived home. After greetings and visiting for a few minutes, we all got back to work. Dane didn't call me again. A few minutes later, I checked out the situation. Dane and Don were together in the boy's room and were discussing the best way to vacuum. In a few minutes, they had all the attachments to the vacuum cleaner laid out on the floor and were discussing the advantages and uses of each. I snickered and went back to work. Before long, I heard the vacuum and peeked in the room again. Don and Dane had the vent cover off and were cleaning out the duct in Dane's room. Next, they put the small nozzel on the vacuum and did the baseboards.

Later that evening, as I was tucking Dane into bed, he jabbered on and on about how clean his room was.

"Mama, my room has never been this clean! It feels great to have such a clean room. Brother, you need to make sure you don't mess it up again. It's really clean, don't you think, Mom?"

I reassured him and smiled to myself at the thought that he hadn't noticed all the times I've pulled the bunkbeds out and washed down baseboards and cleaned the entire room, even under the dressers. But I was so thankful that he was taking ownership for his room and that he had enjoyed cleaning with his Daddy.

For all the boys and men that think cleaning is women's work, take notice. Men can raise chores to an art form. And with the proper attachments (tools) and a vacuum cleaner (power tool), cleaning can be almost as much fun as "fixing things". Instead of a feminine skill, cleaning his room became a male bonding event for Dane and his Daddy.

All hail the vacuum cleaner (and the Dad willing to use it).

Sleep-deprived

Don was out-of-town over the weekend, at a Men's Retreat in the mountains. Friday night seemed to go just fine for us (partly because we were so busy), but Saturday night was rough. Everyone was beginning to fell the absence of Daddy.

Donovan whined most of the night and kept walking up to Don's pillow and laying his head on it. He'd stay there just a short time and then begin whining and walking around the bed again.

Several times during the night, he stood at the foot of the bed barking at something in the night. I know I get spooked when Don's not home, but I never thought the dog would.

In addition, the children were having trouble sleeping. Daelyn was up three times during the night, complaining of everything from a stomach ache to bad dreams. I'm quite sure all those things were true. The absence of Daddy brings on all kinds of ailments.

Deanna was restless and got up several times to go to the bathroom. Dane came into my room complaining of his throat hurting.

I had worked very hard to make sure I'd sleep. I had a nice, tall glass of wine before bed and WOULD HAVE slept like a baby if there had not been interruptions.

We're still playing catch-up on our sleep. The whole family is still tired and struggling with several different problems, all side-effects of lack of sleep.

It's a good thing Don's job doesn't require him to travel and he only leaves home about once every other year on an overnight trip. It makes me wonder just how many disfuntional families are partially that way due to chronic lack of sleep.

I'm very thankful for a 7:00 p.m. bedtime and almost daily naps with Daelyn. It sure helps keep us a happy family.

Tree-falling

I saved my husband $600 today without costing him a penny.

You know the routine. You go shopping, hit some fabulous sales, spend $300 and come home calculating everything you would have spent if the items y0u purchased had not been on sale. You proudly tell your husband that you saved him $300. He rolls his eyes and thanks you for not spending $600.

But that's not what happened today.

My husband's birthday is next week. His parents and sister asked for gift suggestions. He worked for a week or two, then gave me a list, which included a banana tree. You have to understand - when I first bought this house, it could have won an award for the most ugly trees and bushes in one yard. I've pulled out tons of bushes - prickly ones that did nothing but harbor bugs and ivy. But we still had two ugly trees in the front yard - a river birch that looked about 50 years old and was in the process of dying and a sugar maple whose roots have overrun the yard, making it impossible to mow. A couple of years ago, Don decided both trees needed to go and we should replace them with fruit trees.

Last week, a banana tree shows up in the mail from Don's parents. So the debate over where to plant it began. The problem was, the trees that the banana tree was to replace are still in the yard and won't be removed and the roots rotted in the next few days and the banana tree won't last forever in a cardboard box.

I asked Don what his plan was for removing the river birch and sugar maple and he said that he didn't have an extra $1,200 on hand. He says the going rate for removal of a tree is $500 - $600.

So, this morning, after taking the children to school, I got out my chain saw and an industrial extension cord and CUT DOWN THE RIVER BIRCH. My father helped pull the branches the right direction as I cut them so they wouldn't hit the power lines or go through the front windows. I got the whole tree down and started cutting the trunks into firewood and breaking off the branches to put in the barrel for the trash people to remove. The yard was completely covered in branches but, by 10:30, I had it about halfway clean. This evening, I spent a little more time in the yard and there's still a pile of branches to be cut up and remove, but it's a manageable amount of work.

My father asked me why I was cutting down the tree. I explained that I was saving Don $600. The sugar maple is way too big for my little ladies' chainsaw and in a dangerous place, so Don will have to hire a professional for that one, but the river birch was MINE.

Several friends walked by and laughed at my attempt to save Don money. But the bottom line is, it has to be done sometime and why spend $600 to get it done when a little sweat and effort on my part can accomplish it for free.

There's no downside to this project, except maybe the saw blade that will need to be replaced soon. My sister will get a nice pile of firewood that will be well-seasoned by next winter. We are sans a tree in the front yard. And Don still has $600 in his pocket.

When I signed on for motherhood, I didn't realize I'd need safety glasses, steel-toed shoes and a hardhat. But I guess it's all in a day's work.

Disappointment

Donovan loves walking the children to school in the morning. He gets a fair amount of exercise early in the day. He gets to greet lots of children, run, smell tons of interesting things along the way, and play with several friends he's met who live in yards we pass. He waits at the front door when he sees the children don their backpacks.

The tenor in the house must change as we prepare to leave. I'm sure it's louder and there's more activity. We tend to move from the kitchen into the dining room, where the front door is located. Grandma and Grandpa come down the front sidewalk and Grandma always has a big train whistle that she blows to let us know she's approaching the house. Donovan's excitement builds by the minute and he runs in circles in the dining room.

Yesterday, when Daelyn heard Grandma's whistle, he opened the front door. Donovan bounded down the steps to greet Grandma and Grandpa. I yelled to Grandma to get him and ran for his leash. I thought she had him, since he was running around her ankles excitedly saying hello. Then I heard screams to "Get him" and "Omigosh!" and "Quick! Stop him!". I ran back to the front door with leash in hand to see Donovan quite a ways down the road. He had greeted the Grandparents, then taken off down the sidewalk for school, crossing one side road on his own.

As we were yelling, he ran up to a group of older children a half a block down the road from us to say hello. They heard us and grabbed ahold of his harness, hanging on until Grandma and I ran up with the leash. Donovan was clueless what was wrong. He heard the whistle. He saw the commotion. The door was opened. It was time to go to school. He was headed down the sidewalk to SCHOOL. Nevermind he was headed by himself.

Today, Daddy walked the children to school. Grandma and Grandpa had other commitments and Don is off most Fridays, so he decided he'd take the children. He was emphatic about NOT taking Donovan.

"He takes too long," he complained to me. "He has to stop and smell every post and every blade of grass." All too true. He's poky, inbetween running spells. But he loves it so, Mommy would have never denied him.

I stood in the dining room holding him while the children and Daddy walked out and soundly closed the door inbetween us. Donovan was crushed. He sat down in front of the door with his nose to the crack and waited. Daddy didn't return for him. I tried apologizing, but I'm not sure he could really grasp how bad I felt for him.

I'm sure I'll pay dearly for Don's decision. The puppy's already tried to pull the toilet paper off the roll in the half-bath and nosed around in a box of Q-tips Don was using to clean our phones, trying to eat them. He's frustrated and looking for trouble. A good walk was just what he needed to get out some of the energy stored up during the night.

Alas, Daddy's think differently than Mommy's. Maybe I'll have to take him for a long walk later this morning and try and make it up to him.

Mercy, Lord, like the rain - - - falling from Heaven in BIG drops. Mercy for Donovan and for me. An extra measure for the protection of the house while Donovan's in this foul mood wouldn't hurt, either.

School-Marm

I substituted for Deanna's teacher this Tuesday. The children have only been in school one week, but I've agreed to be THE SUB for 4th grade this year (at least, until Christmas Break, when we'll re-evaluate). This means that I'm the first line of defense for the teacher. If she's ill, has to go out of town, or has an appointment, she calls me first. I should make every effort to work out the details so I can be available when she needs me.

When she asked me to commit to being her Sub for the year, she told me that she had permission for me to bring Daelyn with me in the Classroom. On Tuesday, we took two backpacks of toys. She set him up at a table in the back of the room with his "stuff". I brought snacks and a drink. He was quite timid at first, but loosened up as the day went on.

Mid-morning, we played a math game where I threw a ball at one of the children as I called out a math equation. They were to catch the ball, yell out the answer, and throw the ball back to me. Afterward, we moved onto math papers. I put the ball under my desk. Daelyn asked if he could play with it. Deanna's classroom has a door on the outside leading into a lovely courtyard. I let him take the ball into the courtyard to play. Later, he brought the ball back inside and went out to climb trees. I could see him through the windows, he stayed occupied, and there was almost no interruption in my teaching.

He had a fun time and is looking forward to me subbing again. I only had one problem with him - once his shyness wore off, he starting yelling out answers to the questions I posed to the Class. The scary thing was that he got most of the answers right. The fourth graders loved that. They got a real kick out of Daelyn. They all know him, especially the girls who baby him terribly. It was like having their own little brother in the room with them. Everytime I asked a question and waited for students to raise their hands with the answers, Daelyn would yell it out from the back of the room and everyone would crack up. He didn't seem to understand that the questions were for the fourth graders.

I was telling my friend, Kelly, about it. She came after lunch and picked Daelyn up to go to her house to play with her son, Daelyn's buddy. I didn't want to push it too much the first time in the classroom. I was telling Kelly about Daelyn answering the questions. She laughed and told me that her younger son, who's 4 like Daelyn, had gone with her when she took her third grader to the eye doctor. When the Optometrist asked the older son to identify the letters on the eye chart, the 4 yr. old yelled out the letters to his older brother that he had trouble with.

The great consolation in all this is that we have very helpful, attentive children. The down side is they haven't yet learned restraint. I'm not entirely certain I want them to.

Little Loves

Grandma, Daelyn, Donovan and I were walking home after taking the children to school this morning. After crossing a busy road, I asked Daelyn to scoot to the inside so I could walk on the outside of the sidewalk.

"Why, Mama?" he asked. "Why do you need to walk there and I need to walk here?"

"So I can protect you better," I answered. "If a car were to come towards us, I could push you out of the way and I might get hurt, but you would be safe."

Daelyn was quiet for a few minutes. Then he said,

"Mother, I think you love me the most - even more than Sissy or Brother."

I smiled, quite pleased that he thought that. But I didn't want him to tell his siblings, which he most likely would do, so I was quick to explain.

"I love all three of you the same, just in different ways. You're my baby, Sissy's my only girl and my first-born, Daney is my oldest son and the quiet one. All three of you are special to Mommy. You're my babies."

He seemed happy with that explanation. But I'm quite sure he's still harboring the opinion that I love him the most.

Texture and Interest

I took Deanna to the eye doctor today. She has been complaining of having trouble seeing since Dane got his glasses last year. I was a little slow to respond. Finally, this summer, while at the Pediatrician for her annual check-up (actually every other year at her age), he did a vision screening and told me I needed to have her seen by an eye specialist.

At 9:15 this morning, we blew into the Optometrist's office. After a good wait, she was seen and the doctor told us that her vision was borderline, but since she was complaining of having trouble seeing, we should try glasses for her. She added that Deanna's vision will only get worse, not better. True, although it sounded ominous and official coming from her.

After being seen and picking out frames, we were waiting for the lenses to be ground while we sat in the fitting area. It was painfully quiet in the room. I suggested to Deanna that they needed some nice background music, like elevator music or soft rock. Even Country Western would be better than the silence that surrounded us. A little ambient noise would have gone a long way to create a pleasant atmosphere in the office. Deanna frowned at me.

To illustrate my point, I began humming the theme song from the original Star Trek series. I added some gentle hand motions to increase the relaxing element. Deanna raised one eyebrow, something I taught her to do, by the way.

"Mama, you're embarrassing me," she blurted out. "And people are staring at us."

"It's okay, honey. We're just two wild and crazy girls. Ignore them." I picked up my humming again, just where I had left off.

"No, we're not two wild and crazy girls. You're wild and crazy. I'm embarrassed."

I was shamed into stopping my hand motions. Just to spite her, I hummed a few more bars. Then I sat quietly for a few minutes.

"They should hire me, you know. I added a lot of texture and interest to this practice."

Deanna refused to look at me. She's too young yet to really understand the value of texture and interest in a business like an eye doctor's office.

Someday, she'll mature, and then she'll really appreciate her mother's hand motions and humming. Until then, I guess I'll have to reserve my humming to when I'm alone.

The Touch

My parents had quite an experience today. When I was growing up, my father was a card-carrying Republican. My parents have always been at least a little politically-active but, over the last 8 years, have become even moreso.

My mother has been a delegate to the State Republican Convention (I believe my father has, as well) and they have become quite good friends with several senators. My father is on the GOP Executive Committee for our city. As they've become more involved, more opportunities have become available to them.

Today, they had lunch with President Bush. He was in Georgia and influential members of the state-wide Republican Party were sent special invitations to join him for lunch in Savannah. My parents accepted the invitation and, with a friend of my father's, who's also very involved in the Republican Party, drove to Savannah.

Daddy called a little while ago to tell me they were home grabbing a quick dinner before heading out to a prayer meeting. Apparently, President Bush not only shook my mother's hand but he also kissed her on the cheek. I'm quite certain he was overcome by her beauty. She's an amazing woman, at 74 looking about 50. And she exudes a sweetness that makes her even more beautiful, with a wide smile and sparkling eyes.

Mama says she's not going to wash her face or her hand tonight. She wants to let the touch of the President of this powerful country soak in a little.

I hope I get to rub against her cheek before it all sinks in.

Busy Weekend

We went to the Beach on Sunday for the day and the lake on Monday. Trying to cram every last bit of summer into the last two days. School started yesterday. We're all exhausted.

We got an early start on Sunday. I dressed the boys in nice shorts outfits and Deanna and I both wore skorts. We packed up the last-minute items, including the cooler, and left the house around 7:25 for church. We made it just in time for the 7:45 service, then took off like mad for Hunting Island, SC. This is a lovely beach and the State Park is a haven of palm trees leading right up to the very edge of the beach. Some friends of ours had reserved a large shelter and it was full of families we knew. We unpacked, ate, then changed clothes and headed for the WATER. The sand was soft and cool and there weren't too many bodies blocking our view of the ocean. The waves were perfect and the water was shallow for a long ways out. The children grabbed their boogey boards and headed out. I spent hours in the water with them, holding Daelyn in my arms and gently letting the waves lift us and put us back down.

Later, I went back to the van and got our beach umbrella and another chair so I could sit with Don. Daelyn was in and out of the water and the other two traded off the boogey boards with some inner tubes friends of ours offerred them. I split my time between Daelyn and the water, building a beautiful sand castle at one point that was swept away by the rising tide in about 15 minutes, before I even finished the mote.

It was a wonderful, peaceful day. I got terribly sunburned on my back and shoulders, but the children fared quite well. At one point, Daelyn got knocked under by a wave. He came to Don and I crying.

"I got pulled under by a wave and the water got in my mouth through THESE holes," he said and rubbed his finger across his closed lips.

Don and I looked at each other and grinned.

"What holes?" Don asked Daelyn, hoping he'd show us once more.

"These ones," Dane said through closed lips while he rubbed them.

Don and I cracked up laughing. Until Sunday, neither of us knew that there were holes in our children's lips. At least they're still good for kissing.

Why not You?

Dane and Daelyn have become bug magnets. The other day, after playing in the yard, Dane complained that he thought he was allergic to something and was breaking out. I looked his legs over. Nope. Mosquitoes, not smallpox.

Daelyn was at Grandma's house and she was doctoring all his wounds. She has a special way of rubbing Bactine with a cotton ball into mosquito bites that makes them stop itching immediately. While she was working on him, she noticed a scar on his foot that she mistook for a wart.

Grandma: "Daelyn, when Grandpa gets home, you need to have him pray over you for healing of that wart."

Daelyn: "What's wrong with you? Why do we have to wait for Grandpa? Can't YOU pray for me for healing?"

Grandma called Deanna in from the other room and they prayed over Daelyn. In Grandma's defense, Grandpa has prayed over my niece several times for healing from warts and they have disappeared, so Grandma considers prayers for warts to be one of Grandpa's gifts.

Daelyn had an excellent point, though. Perhaps the Lord would like to give Grandma a gift of wart healing. All of us should be open to whatever gift the Lord might have for us and be willing to pray with anyone at anytime.

From the mouth's of babes.

Duty I can live without

There's a phenomenon which is occuring at my house that I'm beginning to find a little disturbing. Mom is the Poop Inspector.

When Deanna was an infant, we thought she had a blockage. She had great difficulty producing anything and we quite often had to use glycerin suppositories for her. Don would call routinely from work to see if a messy diaper had been produced. We were very focused on excretions.

Once, I told him I thought we should try giving Deanna some prune juice in a bottle. He picked some up at the grocery store and, while I was gone the next morning, decided to give it to her. He fed her bottle after bottle of straight prune juice. When I got home, I commented that I needed to start the prune juice.

"I already took care of it," Don stated proudly.

"What do you mean you 'took care of it'?" I asked.

"I already gave her the prune juice," he smiled, quite pleased with himself.

"How much did you cut it?" I asked.

"Cut it with what?" Don looked quizzically at me.

"Water, honey. You cut it half and half with water. You didn't give her full strength prune juice, did you?" I began getting worried. Don snickered.

Turns out, not only had he given it to her full strength, it was so sweet, she had sucked it right down, so he had followed with bottle after bottle. The jug of prune juice was almost empty. My eyes widened as the story unfolded. Don got more and more concerned as I got quieter and my eyes got bigger. He soon learned why you cut prune juice with water in infants.

If we were wanting stinky diapers, we got 'em - lots and lots of 'em. Deanna went for about 4 days before her system finally got down to normal. Don and I laugh about it now. He learned a valuable lesson - the hard way.

Earlier this summer, I was talking with a friend on the back deck when Dane ran up and began to cry. I got him in the house where he burst into tears and told me his head was killing him and he felt like he was going to throw up. I decided he was overheated. Don got him a glass of ice water and I ran him a cool bath. Before jumping in the tub, he tinkled. I was standing next to him and noticed that his urine looked bloody. I put him in the tub, then called Don. In the end, we pumped enough fluids in him to get him to tinkle again for us in a jar. Don and Uncle Ken decided it didn't look bloody, just concentrated.

Later that evening, I got called to the half-bath. Dane had produced another job, and Don thought I needed to look it over.

It seems that anytime the children have a bowel movement that is loose or a funny color (we've noticed that when we eat foods that have green food coloring - like green eggs and green milk on St. Patrick's Day - they have very green stools for a few days) or has anything else unusual about it, which is practically daily, I have to look at it. I'm constantly being called to commodes to inspect excretions.

On Monday, Daelyn called me into his room to look at a present Donovan had left. Donovan rarely goes potty indoors, but Don told me Sunday night that he had diarhea and he had left one little turd behind on the boy's floor. I did the plastic bag trick, turning it inside out and grabbing the offending item. It appeared to be covered in blood, so I scooped up the dog and the kids and headed for the vet.

Turns out, Donovan's stool was full of interesting things - red crayon, hard orange plastic, lots of plant material, and tons of other stuff, but no blood. The vet cautioned the children that we should not allow Donovan to eat anymore blue Cavalrymen or green Army men. He put Donovan on a stomach coat, an animal version of Kaopectate, and told us to withhold treats for a day or so. He told me I would need to carefully watch Donovan's stools to make sure he passed all the junk. Ah, me. Once again, it's my job to inspect the stools.

Last night, one of the children called to me, "Mama, I left something in the half-bath potty for you to look at." I rolled my eyes and glanced at Don.

"This is getting a little out of hand. I don't have to look at every bowel movement produced by a family member. Would you please go look and make sure everything's okay?" I pleaded.

"Nope. Sorry. It's a Mommy-thing."

I seriously doubt most Mommies have to inspect all excretions. Our family is way too obsessed with this. It's time for our children to realize that stinkies can look different each day based on what you've eaten and how your stomach handles it.

Last night, Donovan had an accident in Deanna's bedroom, a result, I believe, of the stomach coat. She decided to respond by moving out of her bedroom for the night. I sent her to clean it up instead. She returned to the kitchen gagging and said she just couldn't handled it. Don grinned and said, "See. Moomy-thing."

I'm doomed. I can see it already. I might as well just get used to potty inspections. It's not bad enough I have to inspect the children's jobbies and the dog's jobbies. I draw the line at neighbors and friends. Don't even ask.

He's Predictable

Last night, I made a wonderful roast for dinner in the slow-cooker. I tossed in carrots a few hours before dinner, then boiled potatoes to add to the carrots and made gravy. The roast was lovely and amazingly tender. As we gathered around the table, getting ready to sit, Dane looked at the beautiful roast sitting on a pan and asked, "Is that meatloaf or chicken?" All of us yelled at the same time - Uncle Ken, Deanna, Don and me - "Chicken!" Then we looked at each other and cracked up. Dane had no idea what was so funny.

Our sweet boy - he just loves his chicken.

We finally broke the news to him, when he requested a second helping of "that yummy chicken", that it was a beef roast. He wanted seconds anyway and ate heartily.

Refreshment

Don and I had a wonderful weekend. Our suite at the Bed and Breakfast was lovely and we chose an excellent bottle of wine from the restaurant's stock for our complimentary anniversary bottle. We took it, chilled, back to our room where two wine glasses and a stainless bucket were waiting for us. We iced it down, popped the cork to let it breathe a little, then I drank half a bottle while we putzied around getting ready for dinner. We went for a walk around the grounds and I had a nice swim before showering and doing my hair.

When we returned from dinner, I called the children, then piled the pillows on the foot of the King bed. We laid on our bellies, propped up, in front of the TV and watched one of our favorite shows on Sci-Fi (which we never get to see because we don't have cable). As a special anniversary present, the restaurant that's part of the estate had given us a platter with two desserts of our choice to take back to our room. Don had cheesecake drizzled with chocolate and raspberry sauce. Later, after my dinner wore off, I wanted my keylime pie with a cup of coffee, but couldn't find any decaf anywhere in the kitchen, so I settled for a lovely cup of peppermint tea. It was so good, I had a second, and was completely comfortable rambling around the manor house finding what I needed. It was a really fun evening.

The next morning, Don whispered gently in my ear that it was almost time for breakfast and I needed to get up. He had already showered and dressed and had been downstairs talking with the Innkeeper. He made sure they put on decaf coffee for me and hung out visiting for a while so as not to disturb my slumber. I dressed quickly and we had a wonderful meal on the verandah of the manor house, complete with a full carafe of decaf coffee. We lingered for quite some time, looking at the antiques and relaxing. Then we went back upstairs where I sprawled on the bed and read some magazines - something absolutely unheard of at home.

The night before, at dinner, the folks at the hotel told us that there was no check-out time if no on was coming into our room for the next night, which was the case. So we were in no hurry to get home. When we finally did leave, we stopped at a Christian bookstore and spent about two hours looking for a book on a particular subject, something we could never have done with the children in tow.

Even Don admitted that he had a wonderful time and recognized the need for us to escape every so often. Although it was amazing being alone with my husband, an even better benefit of getting away was having no chores to do. Even when we go out to dinner together, we get a 2 or 3-hour break but have to return to clean up the kitchen, get children in bed, do the dishes, and any number of other motherly responsibilities. To lay on a bed and read without any time pressures was an indulgence I never have.

I'm all the more convinced that Don is my soulmate. A friend of mine used to talk about women as "the gorilla his dreams". By that reasoning, Don must be "the man-o'-war my dreams". Life with him just keeps getting better, and this weekend proved that.

I feel refreshed. By Saturday afternoon, I couldn't wait to get home to the children. I didn't even mind cooking a nice meal and cleaning up afterwards. I feel closer to Don than I've felt in a while. Life is good and marriage to Don is exceptional.

Isn't it something what a little alone-time for do for a person and a marriage. We'll have to schedule a little more of it in the future.

Chicken Hat

We had invited some friends to go with us to the Outer Banks. We had three cars caravaning on the trip there. Don recharged our walkie-talkie's and gave one to the woman who was driving one of the cars with her son (her husband had to work and was unable to go with us) and we kept the other. The trip was very fun and I found that the walkie-talkies really came in handy. When someone needed to gas up or make a potty stop, we could let the lead car know and then we'd begin looking.

We had a wonderful time with our friends. Anne, the woman who we invited with her son, J.P. (one of Dane's best friends), had never been to the beach before, so this was new territory for her. She loves the mountains and is a Civil War expert, so they spend most of their vacations touring battlefields and towns that were significant in the War. But the beach is something that has eluded her. After our vacation, she's now a beach-lover, as well.

Anyway, we had planned on making the trip home in 2 days. We knew we wouldn't be ready to check out until very late morning and it's a long drive. Anne loaded up early, like 3 a.m. or so, and drove straight through. We got up, had breakfast, then started packing. When we were finally ready and had turned our keys back in, Don asked what I wanted to do. I suggested visiting the other lighthouses. Don commented that he'd like to visit the Kite Store. We turned left (home was to the right) and headed into town.

Don surprised me by turning into Jockey Ridge State Park, the place with the dunes. He said he thought we ought to at least check it out. We had seen hang-gliders all week long taking off from the dunes and knew they had lessons, but had no idea how high the dunes were, nor did we have any concept of the enormity of the Park. It was like a desert, nothing but drifting sand as far as you could see in every direction . . . until you got on the top of the dunes. Then you could see the ocean, the highway that ran along the bottom, separating the Park from the town, and all the businesses.

After climbing the dunes and the children sliding down them several times, we got drinks and loaded back up. Next stop was the Kite Store and, as I said yesterday, Don went inside to look around while I took the children under the awning in the parking lot to make kites.

When Deanna and I went inside looking for the guys, we decided to take a look at the store, as well. It was an interesting construction - 3 stories high with different levels in different sections. It's an L-shape, so the store turns and winds and there's lots of different, little rooms. Deanna and I wandered slowly from room to room, looking for anything worth spending Don's hard-earned money. We were standing in a small room full of circular stands of clothing when a man walked by with A CHICKEN ON HIS HEAD. Apparently, it was a stuffed chicken, but it looked like a hen roosting on his head. Deanna and I gawked in astonishment. When he finally disappeared from view, we turned to look at each other and I whispered to her, "Excuse me, sir, but you seem to have a chicken on your head!"

It was one of those rare moments (at least for me) when timing was perfect. Deanna erupted with laughter and actually roared. I got tickled with her AND with the memory of the chicken and started to laugh. Before long, we were both laughing so hard, we were concerned that we'd cause a disturbance in the store. We tried to sneak into a room by ourselves to have a good, long laugh, but everytime we began to get control, Deanna'd whisper again, "Excuse me, sir, but did you know you have a chicken on your head?" and we'd start all over. We probably laughed for 15 minutes - hard, belly laughs - the kind that bring cleansing and achy chests.

We've told this story over and over again and each time, we crack up. Unfortunately, the moment is long-passed and no one else quite appreciates the humor. I guess you had to be there. We also found out that it's a policy in this store that all the employees wear hats. We had seen someone in a ball cap and someone else in a cowboy hat, but the roosting chicken took the prize. The others were so common, we didn't even really notice that the employees were wearing hats until THE CHICKEN strode by.

For several weeks afterward, anytime we were in a group of people, Deanna'd whisper, "Tell them about the chicken!" I tried repeatedly, but nothing could quite match the moment in the Kite Store.

She and I will always have the memory - not only of the chicken hat but, also, of the bonding moment and the subsequent laughter. It will become a private joke that will always elicit laughter from the two of us as we remember the scene.



On another note, Don and I are leaving this afternoon to go away for our anniversary. We'll just be gone overnight to a neighboring town (staying at a Bed and Breakfast) but I'm really looking forward to a date with my favorite guy. We haven't had an opportunity to even go on a date since our anniversary last year. I'm talking, not even going to dinner or out to a movie, just the two of us. Nowhere without munchkins along. I had to secretly work the whole thing out before I sprung it on Don. He's a homebody and would much prefer to be at home than anywhere else - can you guess why we haven't been on a date in a year?

So I've got to pack and leave copious notes for my niece who'll be staying with the kids while we're gone. And I'm working hard to get the house as clean as possible in the next few hours. I don't want my niece staying in a place where she fears she'll "catch something" - she's a bit germophobic.

Don and I celebrate 11 years of wedded bliss on Saturday. We'll be returning by 4 p.m. so my niece can get home to dress for a wedding, which is the time our wedding began. The memories are very clear to me and, if I forget any, I've got the video to help me remember.

I can't imagine a better husband for me. Don is everything I could ever have dreamed of. The last year has been even more amazing than the first 10. We are more in unity and respect each other more than we could ever have imagined 11 years ago. We were "in love" 11 years ago. Now, we're deeply "in love" and more. Life with Don is just plain good. There's no other way to say it. He is truly God's greatest gift to me.

So goodbye for today. Have a great weekend. I know I will.

More Pictures from our Vacation

As we were driving around Kill Devil Hills, NC (the Outer Banks), we kept seeing this sand castle. It was at the bottom of the Dunes that are part of a state park. We thought somewhat had made it, like in a contest or something, and it was so exquisite, they decided to save it and put a fence around it. However, the dunes drifted and covered it up. Turns out, it's all that's left of a putt-putt golf course. The dunes REALLY drifted and have covered ALL of the course except this sand castle. We loved it and wanted to have a picture since it may no longer be there next year (or the whole course could reappear again - you never know which).

The second picture is my fisherman. Dane was itching to go fishing. Don scoped out the area and found a great dock full of other fishermen. He planned an early morning trip with Dane. When the rest of us woke, Daddy and Daney were gone. When they returned, Don told us that an older gentleman had needed help reeling his fish in and asked if Dane would do it for him. Dane happily complied and this is him with the older gentleman's fish. He didn't catch anything, but he enjoyed himself all the same, and it was a wonderful time for him and his father together.

The last picture is Daelyn on top of the dunes flying a kite he made at the kite store. While Don shopped, I sat with the kids in the tent outside and we made our own kites and decorated them. Don came out of the store and disappeared with the boys while Deanna and I finished our kites. When we went looking for the guys, we finally discovered them up on the dunes (after thoroughly searching the store).

Incidentally, something very funny happened while Deanna and I were in the kite store looking for the guys. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

Poor Bob

Daelyn was playing this morning with a Bob the Builder game. He brought it into the den and was sitting on the floor, hammering away at it. Donovan growled and then began barking.

Me: "Why is Donovan barking?"

Daelyn: "Because I want to play with this game."

Me: "I understand. But why is Donovan barking at you?"

Daelyn: "Oh. He doesn't like Bob the Builder."

Cabbage for Many

Deanna started growing this cabbage in the Spring. Bonnie Bell, the seed company, has a program for third graders. They supply the cabbage plants to all third grade students in the state. The children are to grow the cabbages through the summer and turn in a picture of themselves with their cabbage to their teacher at the end of the summer. The weight of the cabbage is to entered on the form and each school submits the picture of their largest cabbage for consideration. The largest cabbage in the state wins its grower a $1,000 scholarship.

Deanna harvested her cabbage yesterday. We took pictures and triumphantly carried it into Kroger for our official weighing - 7.83 lbs. (it seemed much larger to me). We took the pictures to her teacher who said Deanna's was the only picture turned in. Most of the students' cabbages had died before the end of the summer. If there were any more turned in today, the largest would be sent to Bonnie Bell, but Deanna's had a good chance of taking first place from her school.

She was very excited. Apparently, before school got out, her classmates made fun of her cabbage and joked that it was still as small as when she had first planted it. Last night, at dinner, we were talking about humility. Deanna asked what it meant. I said, "Not making fun of other people's cabbages." Her eyes lit up. She got it.

Here's hoping Bonnie Bell thinks as highly of her cabbage as the Doughty family. In any case, she's very happy that she participated and thankful that her cabbage survived the drought and bugs. And the fried cabbage we had for dinner last night was great!

Cellphones and Lawnmowers

I was trying to get Daelyn down for his nap today. He seemed to think a commercial he saw recently was very funny. The commercial was for cell phones and involved two children, a boy and a girl. The boy is bragging to the girl about his new cellphone when hers rings. She answers the phone and says, "Just a minute." Then turns to the boy and says, "Your lawn mower's getting away from you!" In the background, it shows a lawnmower running through someone's backyard.

Daelyn thought this was absolutely hilarious and couldn't stop talking about it at naptime.

Daelyn: "Mama, do you remember that commercial with those children when the girl says, 'Your lawnmower's going without you!'? He cracks up and, just as his laughter is starting to wane, he repeats, " 'Your lawnmower's going without you!' "

I watched him for a few minutes and, as he began to quiet down, I whispered to him, " 'Your lawnmower's getting away from you?' "

He cracked up again and I roared, as well. He was laughing at the commercial, I was laughing at him.

I'm so thankful my children appreciate the funny things in life and don't find humor in making fun of other people or slandering some race or personality type. Good, clean, wholesome laughter warms the heart.

The next time you see a commercial for cellphones, check to see if there's a lawnmower in the background, and think of Daelyn. If he's watching, you can bet he'll be laughing.

Chicken for All

Several years ago, a friend of mine brought this amazing chicken to a potluck dinner we attended. It was so good, I asked for the recipe and have been making it ever since. I've modified it somewhat, until it's sheer perfection.

You start with chicken thighs. I've tried wings, legs, breasts, but thighs tenderize the best. You remove the skin but leave some of the fat. Put the thighs in a large ziploc and pour K.C. Masterpiece Honey Teriyaki sauce over them, diluted a little with water (this makes it penetrate the chicken better). Seal the bag, squoosh around the marinade, and refrigerate for several days, mixing periodically. You can limit the marinading to 24 hours, if needed.

Spray a 13"X 9" pan with cooking spray. Place the thighs in the pan carefully, making sure each is exposed. It's important none be covered up. Pour a little of the sauce in the bottom of the pan, then drizzle some fresh from the bottle over the chicken - just a drizzle - until they're a nice brown color. Dust with Cajun Seasoning. Bake at 325 for about 1 1/2 hours.

The chicken falls off the bone and is tasty all the way through. The cajun seasoning keeps it from being too sweet and adds some zing. We serve it with brown rice and a vegetable, and the children, even Daelyn, usually have two thighs each, an incredible amount of food for them.

Anyway, we were expecting guests for dinner last night, so I planned this menu. The grocery list I made asked for 5 lbs. of thighs. The package Don brought home had only 10 thighs, which he said was 4.8something pounds. I was a little concerned how they'd stretch to 4 adults and 3 children.

I woke yesterday morning with stomach problems and later got a bad headache. Deanna complained all day of a stomach ache and cramps. Mid-afternoon, we decided we had better cancel out on dinner - no sense passing along some bug to our guests.

I cooked the chicken anyway, since I had been marinading it. As Dane dug into his second piece, I looked at the pan - 2 tiny, little thighs left. I laughed and put on my most stern voice.

"Good thing we cancelled our guests. I would have had to tell them, 'SORRY! I realize you're our invited guests, but you're limited to only one little thigh each. You see, my children LOVE this chicken, and they must be allowed their fill. You'll just have to go hungry or fill your tummies on side dishes.' "

The children roared with laughter. Don looked down his nose unapprovingly and commented that if our guests had come, we would have practiced restraint to be certain they had their fill first. Of course we would have - of course ... However, I'm still not sure there would have been enough. I would have liked to be able to offer 3 thighs to each of our guests (some of them were small and they really are tasty), which would have left 4 to be split between our family of 5.

The long and short of this story is that next time we plan this meal for guests, I need to specify a number of thighs, not a pound weight. And 15 or so would be much more reasonable when we invite two adult guests.

I made it through dinner ( I ate lightly), but then felt so bad, I asked Don if I could be excused to veg on the loveseat in the den. He smiled and encouraged me to go rest. When the kids ran in a few minutes later, I asked them to all go and clear the entire table for me. Although they fussed a little, they did an excellent job. At bedtime, when I made it back into the kitchen to take my medicine, I discovered a clear table except for my drink, which they know enough to leave alone.

I decided to load the dishwasher quickly so I could run it, although I was tempted to leave it for today. The dishes were piled in the sink so I picked up the top one to rinse it. Underneath were each of the children's plates, full of bones. Instead of dumping their plates in the trash, they dumped in the sink, which had a frying pan full of water soaking. The result was bones floating in greasy water that I had to fish out to throw away.

It took a little longer than I expected, but I finally got the dishwasher loaded and made a mental note to tell the children to throw bones away before putting dishes in the sink.

It seems training never stops. I was so thrilled they cleared the table thoroughly. But no time to gloat - we're onto the next training issue. And, as I train them, Don trains me. And we all train the dog. And the dog trains us. We're just one big cycle of training, all learning together.

Just so we get to learn around a big pan full of K.C. Masterpiece chicken.

Desiring Desire

Last week, I attended a prayer meeting at which a man gave a sharing about attending the 25th anniversary of his brother becoming a Monk. At the Ceremony, his brother had shared that his goal in life is to become a Zero, to be nothing for Jesus. That was somewhat shocking to me. I can't imagine choosing to be nothing. But then, my friend shared with us something called "The Litany of Humility". He encouraged us to pray it with him. I was reluctant because I know what can result when you pray for humility. The Litany, however, asked the Lord to give us the DESIRE for humility, the desire to not be loved or accepted, the desire to not be recognized or honored. To desire only to be filled with the Lord.

Last night Don shared Psalm 34 with me. Verses 17 and 18 say, "The righteous cry out and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

I want the Lord to be close to me. I want Him to save me. According to this scripture, to get there, I must be brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. I want to desire to be empty, crushed. I want to have a heart to be nothing but what the Lord has for me. I want to decrease so that He can increase.

I'm not quite ready yet to pray specifically for those things, but I AM willing to pray for the desire to pray for those things.

And pray, I will, trusting God that the desire to desire is sufficient for now and that He will honor the very deepest desire of my heart, which only He truly can see.