FunnyBlog

Knock Knock

Knock Knock.
Who’s there?

Nobody.

Nobody who?
silence

The other day, the girls and I got some good laughs while telling & retelling this oldie but goodie.

The reason for this post is to admit I have been missing in action.

I would like to explain.
I have never claimed to be a real blogger,
but sometimes I feel bad for disappointing those
who like to read “unreal” blogs.
To you three people who found me in my other cyber FB world, I am truly sorry for my absence.
I just have a hard time getting the creative juices flowing when I am sleep deprived and busy eating rocky road ice-cream to deal with the stress that is always present in my mind while dealing with a crying infant.
I am also sorry to all of you who have felt the pinch in numbers while I haven’t been reading my blogroll either. I hope to be back soon.
Just as soon as I find myself on the other side of the knock knock joke.

Mom’s Search For Meaning

I spend about 83.2% of my time looking for stuff.

And, no, this is NO exaggeration.

There are things that just have to be found: the best deal at the stores, shoes, pacifiers, whatever it is that is causing that stench under the back seat of my minivan. (and boy that’s a squeeze for these hips that have birthed four children). Ticks. (We’ve got a lot of those in the South) Where is that darn coupon? I filed it right here! Oh, and the library books…oh those library books. They never go away, except when they are due and can’t be renewed.

The list goes on. Which can of tomato soup is the oldest? Where in the world is that bill that needs to be paid. (He didn’t follow the system of what basket it goes in…you ladies know what I am talking about.) “Oh, yes, kids, I know exactly where that missing game piece is.”

There are the more complex things to look for. The homework that somehow didn’t make it back in the backpack. The bra with just the right amount of padding for a ten year old. The stuff at the pharmacy that will magically cure my husband of his snore before he goes to Scout Camp.

The other night brought a fun challenge. “Mom, do you remember that paper that my teacher sent home on the first day of school? It has my log in and password for the website on it. I need it. My teacher says it will be a pain to look up my number. He can look it up if you can’t find the paper, but it will be a pain.” (Um, what about me here? Seriously? Are you kidding me? That was what? 5, 6 weeks ago?) “Yes honey, I would love to spend the next 1/2 hour searching. It’s my favorite thing to do. You know I love to find things.” Lucky for me I keep most papers that look remotely important. Unlucky for me, we had put this paper in the girls keepsake tote not my pile to be filed. There went another hour to tack onto my fake time clock. Man, if I could just punch in and out. I would ask for minimum wage. No one could afford to pay me a higher salary.

Then there are the most important Mom searches. The ones with meaning. Are those lying eyes? What does that smirk on his face mean? Is that a tear rolling down my daughter’s cheek? Or is that not a tear when there should be one? Where is she hiding and why is she hiding? Why is this one crying and the other one hiding?

How about the searches we like to avoid? Am I doing a good enough job here? Have I got through to my children in the areas of the utmost importance? Do they know I love them? Do they know they are of infinite worth? Do they know that they can accomplish their goals? Do they have goals? Do they believe in what is right? Have I been a good example? Do my kids know I would do anything for them? That I will always be here for them? Will they tell me when they are in trouble?

I love it when the searches are for fun random items. Just this week, I have looked for light sabers at least 20 times. They needed them to read their library books before bed.

Trust me when I say we can do this all night.

Once in a lifetime, as a mother, you find the best find ever. The other night it came out of Sophia’s journal. It would have been so much sweeter if I hadn’t just got onto the girls about keeping track of their “own crap” (in my exact words). It may not have meant as much if my frustration hadn’t mounted.

If you can’t read the photo, it says:
“My hero is: mommy. Because: she can find anything.”

Needless to say, I think I will be spending that 83.2% of my time with a smile on my face and love in my heart. I’m a hero now. It makes my searching so much more enjoyable.

Now, I am off to find the baby. Where did I leave her?
Oh, and the cat. Can’t lock up without her inside.

Propaganda I agree with

I was one of “those”parents. I wrote to the principal to see what the school was doing about Obama brainwashing our kids. I was happy to find out that the school administrators had decided to leave it up to the individual teachers as to whether or not they would air Obama’s speech today.

I was happy until I read the script last night. In Tennessee, it’s a 50/50 shot at whether or not the teacher likes Obama. I knew most of my kids probably would NOT hear this today. And I was right. Not one of their teachers showed Obama’s speech in class today. And I so wish that they did. It inspired me as I read it last night. It made me want to go back to school.

And just for the record. I think that propaganda is perfectly acceptable as long as I agree with it. 🙂 Go ahead, all you Conservative freaks….hang me. I can’t wait to hear what you possibly found wrong with this speech. Bring it on. I’m waiting for some juicy comments.

Every single one of you has something you’re good at. Every single one
of you has something to offer. And you have a responsibility to yourself to
discover what that is. That’s the opportunity an education can
provide.

Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end
up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write
your own destiny. You make your own future.

No one’s born being good at things, you become good at things through hard
work. You’re not a varsity athlete the first time you play a new
sport. You don’t hit every note the first time you sing a song. You’ve
got to practice. It’s the same with your schoolwork. You might have to
do a math problem a few times before you get it right, or read something a few
times before you understand it, or do a few drafts of a paper before it’s good
enough to hand in.

Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Don’t be afraid to ask for help
when you need it. I do that every day. Asking for help isn’t a sign of
weakness, it’s a sign of strength. It shows you have the courage to admit
when you don’t know something, and to learn something new. So find an adult
you trust – a parent, grandparent or teacher; a coach or counselor – and ask
them to help you stay on track to meet your goals.

And even when you’re struggling, even when you’re discouraged, and you
feel like other people have given up on you – don’t ever give up on
yourself. Because when you give up on yourself, you give up on your
country.

I think I named her perfectly.

The name Sophia means wise. My 2nd daughter seemed wise to me from the moment I laid eyes on her. She is so innocent, she exudes wisdom without even trying.

Here is one of her recent stories. I found it jotted down on a folded up piece of paper. She loves to draw and write. I hope she grows up to be a famous author/illustrator. Or a non-famous one. Either way she’ll be o.k. with it. Keep reading and you will see why.

On the top fold of this little homemade book it has the book’s title: “The Small Prisus.” That’s “The Small Princess” for those of you that don’t speak childrenese. O.k. I admit it, maybe her wisdom could be spread to the spelling department someday. (Oh I better not forget to spellcheck this post)

Here is the story:

“Once upon a time there was a prisus (at least she misspells consistently) in a
far away kingdom Pompae. (She got the place from The Magic Treehouse, I am sure) She had a small kingdom.”

And the last line….the clencher.

“She was o.k. with that.”

Don’t you wish we could all be so wise?

God’s Love

Back on the 4th of July, I experienced a mothering moment that helped me comprehend the love of God.

We were at a friend’s house and sparklers were passed around to all of the kids. Many of us adults were sitting several yards away on the porch just chatting and enjoying our food.
My mother in law was holding our new baby Caroline, yet amazingly enough, still watching over our older kids with sparklers better than I was hands free. She said, “Alice, you better go and check on Bella. I think something is wrong.”
I sauntered over only to discover Bella with one shoe off sitting on the ground holding her big toe apart from the one right next to it. As long as I live, the smell of her burning flesh will never leave me. A remnant of her sparkler had fallen into the hole of her croc. and melted away her flesh. A few days later, when I was worried infection might be spreading, I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me that she had third degree burns.
And for inquiring minds, we were prescribed some good burn ointment and figured out how to wedge gauze between the toes so that the air could get to the wound and she is now as good as new.
Back to the story. Finding Bella suffering from this burn was very disheartening to me. I was so upset that I hadn’t noticed her jump around in pain. I was saddened the she didn’t cry out for help. I was compassioned that she was sitting in a state of shock and doing a mighty fine job of “being tough”. The girl didn’t even cry until I told her it was o.k.
The next day, on our way to church, I was expressing my feelings to LG. “Why didn’t she scream?”, I lamented. I felt horrible that somehow I had taught my child to be too tough and that for some reason I had not given her permission to hurt or to scream out for help when she needed it the most.
A little further down the road to church, it struck me like a ton of bricks. I could not hold back my emotion. I sat silently as tears streamed down my face. I had experienced for my child what God must experience so often for all of his children. I am sure at times he also laments, “Why don’t they scream?”
Because of the feelings I experienced while pondering upon Bella, I know that God, our Father, is there to help us. He doesn’t want us to suffer alone. He is a perfect God, and unlike this sometimes oblivious mother, he notices every time we get burned. We may not approach him because we think it is hopeless or that we aren’t worthy of his love. (Just as Bella never screamed out because maybe she thought she would be in trouble) But, as his children, we are always worthy of his love. He cannot stop loving us no matter how badly we have acted. Sometimes we may even think we did something wrong when really we haven’t. Sometimes maybe somebody else handed us a sparkler and we took it without realizing what damage it could do.
We may not seek his help because we think we are tough and that we can handle it, which may very well be true. But, why do we insist on doing it alone when he is watching over us so diligently? He is the ultimate water source. He is like the soothing jacuzzi pictured above. And when we fail to seek him, it’s as if we choose the pathetic path of spitting upon our own wounds, when he can pour out the most refreshing waterfall. Need I remind you that his waterfall is naturally flowing all of the time and is there whether we tap into it or not.
Bella was being tough; she didn’t think that she needed my help. Without totally realizing the severity of the burns at the time, I grabbed Bella by the hand and walked over to a water source. I kick myself now when I think that I made her limp over and I didn’t pick her up and carry her to safety.
God is perfect. He can pick us up. He will let us limp only if it is absolutley necessary for us to learn something. Otherwise he will always carry us to safety. I know this to be true.
I hope that I will never error again by being too tough for God. Because after this experience, I have learned that when I am too tough, he has to sit back and watch me suffer, and that is the last thing he wants to do. I know it. I know it because I would take a million burns over my own body, until my death if necesssary, than to ever smell the burning flesh of my own child ever again. Or if she absolutely has to experience that burn, I at LEAST want to hold her up while she does.

Jeremiah 31:3 “…I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore
with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.”

Sister School

It’s the first day of school again and so it’s time to post an old photo and reflect on how time flies.
Here was the conversation at our house this morning.
Me: “Abigail, you’re in 5th grade now, things are gonna be different. If those boys tease you about your bra, then you just need to laugh at it. If you get all upset, they will just keep teasing you.”
Abigail: “I know mom, I already learned that with my sisters.”
Me: “Good. I don’t want you to be upset at school. Remember the way to know if a boy likes you is if he teases you or ignores you all together.”
Bella: “Wow, Abigail, you must love me because you tease me and ignore me.”
Man, I think I am going to like the kids going back to school. I feel awake at 8 am and am already getting my stuff done, including a blog post and making me shopping plan for the week.

I thought
A poem for my husband of 12 years
I thought that you were perfect.
I thought that you were bright.
I thought that you were so sweet.
I thought of you each night.
I thought you were too good.
I thought you were just grand.
I thought that I’d be lucky.
I thought to hold your hand.
I thought you felt so cozy.
I thought you made me melt.
I thought I wanted closer.
I thought it was love I felt.
I thought I’d be your wife.
I thought I was so blessed.
I thought I was so lucky.
I thought you were the best.
I thought I knew it all.
I thought I knew you through.
I thought you’d stay the same.
I thought only of you.
I thought I loved you different.
I thought I loved you new.
I thought I loved you more.
I thought I just loved you.
I thought we’d love forever.
I thought forever was long.
I thought it was long enough.
I thought so very wrong.

Iron Man Rusty and Renegade Renee

My sister Renee’s husband suffered a terrible fall two weeks ago. He was trimming a tree and cut his own safety rope and fell approximately 30 feet to the concrete street. It’s a miracle he lived. He shattered both of his heels and broke his back. They say that he should be able to walk again in about a year.

Renee gave birth to their fourth child just two days after this horrific accident. Rusty wasn’t able to be there. Renee has been so resilient in holding it all together with a newborn and three other kids who had their first day of school today. She has been running around like crazy taking care of everybody. I wish I could be there to give her some rest or figure out how to clone her. She said she is doing great. She just needs to be cut in half so that she can stay with Rusty and take care of her kids at the same time.

Needless to say, I can’t get them out of my mind and my worries and my prayers.

Rusty had his first surgery today. Here is the X-ray of his hardware.

Man, I am never gonna mess with Rusty again. He will have two killer weapons in he arsenal. That metal is gonna be like Wolverine. Don’t get him mad or it may come shooting out.

Renee and Rusty have been amazing. I am so proud of their resilience and even more proud of their good attitudes.

I asked Rusty how he was doing last week and he told me, “I’m great. If I could just get out of this bed.” You know the man is amazing if he is still able to play jokes on you while being confined to a nursing home facility.

He crank called me three times asking if he could take a survey. I about tore his head off for wasting my cell phone minutes. He then called my house phone and I naively hung up on him again. It wasn’t until he called from Renee’s phone that I even figured out what he was up to. What a jokester. He needs to do phone impersonations for a living. Crazy guy. He does the best Domino’s Pizza voice.

The lyrics to a song come to mind, “I get knocked down, and I get up again, ain’t nothin‘ gonna keep me down.”