I Must Be Crazy

I'm waiting on the last load of laundry to finish washing so I can put it in the dryer and call it a looooong day in what seems to be a never-ending season of long days.

Tomorrow is the big day when Doug and I + Grandmama and Granddaddy + the 2 1/2-year old + the twins board an airplane for Buffalo to test the patience of a whole lot of people. Then, I will kiss my spouse goodbye as he goes on a glorious bachelor vacation in Toronto for four days while leaving me to drive a van full of malcontents to Michigan to visit my dad's brother, sister, and mother. (Doug is actually going to take a 8-5 class, but it sounds pretty cushy to come home to a quiet room, no chores, no diapers, no crying, so he might as well be going on a spa retreat).

As I explained in an earlier post, I'm perfectly sure that this trip was God-planned because of how it came about. I've had a feeling since a couple months after the twins were born that I need to take them to visit Grandma NOW but no real desire to listen to that still, small voice until Doug's sudden training popped into our life.

But knowing something is right and doing it are two different things.

I'm not this daring, folks. I've never been brave enough to take a 2-hour car drive with all the kids, much less a 7-hour one that involves two border crossings. For the past week, I've been packing a little each day and dreading the impending travel one horrendous crying jag at a time. I think Doug's tired of me crying at this point. And Wyatt just ignores me.

So, I'm asking you to pray.

Pray for no flight delays or cancellations.
Pray for no traffic jams or accidents.
Pray for no long lines at the border.
Pray for miraculously content children.
Pray for me to be alert and at peace.

We'll be up at 4:30 tomorrow starting the journey. I covet your bringing us before the Father's throne.

How to Disagree With Mommy

I probably broke my vow to never argue in front of my children when Wyatt was still in utero. Over the past three years, my husband and I have had our share of disagreements in their presence and will surely have more before the twins are out of diapers.

Wyatt is aware that mommy and daddy disagree and also that we kiss and make-up. While he hasn't seemed to pay much attention to a few of our more-animated-than-usual-"discussions," he's asked me several times after the fact, "You mad at daddy?"

And I've answered him honestly, trying to put it in terms he'll understand like "remember when mommy was mad at you because you....but then later, she gave you a big hug and a kiss?"

We try our best to "fight fair."And apparently, it's getting through to him that even if you disagree with someone, you can still use kind words when doing so.

For a 2-year-old who constantly disagrees with his mommy, that's a pretty nice skill to have...especially if you're trying to avoid consequences for disobedience.

Case in point: today, Wyatt was in trouble for trying to fish out the ice in his water cup (for the umpteenth time). This time, the water spilled, soaking everything in the surrounding area. So, I was fussing at him for "not listening to mommy."

He suddenly interrupted me, "But sweetheart..."

Huh? "What did you say?"

With his head bowed low, he repeated a little more quietly than before, "But sweetheart."

I couldn't laugh. But I wanted to. For the rest of the day, I've been noticing every time Doug and I use the word "sweetheart" with one another and with the kids. I didn't realize we used the word that much!

But Wyatt apparently realized the word "sweetheart" has the power to diffuse a disagreement or (hopefully) ease consequences. Smart kid. Too smart.

Defining "Gross"

Somehow, from age 2 to age 32, the definition of "gross" changes. And since we all could use a good bit of humor to help us survive another day before the weekend, I present to you Wyatt's definition of "gross" (with examples, of course):

It is not gross to eat food that's fallen to the ground...even if it's been on the ground for several hours...and is currently being eaten by ants who have had their little pinchers who knows where!

During our morning watering-of-the-plants routine, Wyatt spilled a few Cheerios on the back carport. A few hours later, the line of ants going to and from each of the Cheerios reminded me of the lines at Wal-Mart during the after Thanksgiving Day sales.

Did that deter Wyatt? No. He crouched down, BLEW what must have seemed like a hurricane-force gust of wind onto the unsuspecting ants. And surprisingly, the ants scattered long enough for Wyatt to pick up the Cheerio, inspect it to ensure there were no remaining ants to swallow, and pop it in his mouth. Not gross to a 2-year-old.

But it is gross when your baby brother has a big poop in the tub...even if you're a couple feet away from said tub. You should have heard him gagging in there, like he's been potty trained forever versus just a few months!

My first thought was, "Oh great. Now I have to disinfect the tub before my bath tonight." Not Wyatt. Between gags, he's shouting, "Save the penguins!" And so we did.

Back to School

Today was "back to school" for me in a sense. Early this morning, eight women in the Ladies' Bible Study class sharpened their pencils, stretched their mental muscles, and got serious about learning about Jesus.

There's just nothing like cracking open the tight spine of a new Bible study. Diving back in the Word with other women who have a burning heart like mine to learn the heights and depths of The Bible! What messages does it hold for me? What truths have I read a thousand times yet haven't really discovered them yet?

If you have never ventured into the realm of in-depth Bible study, then I can't totally explain the wonder of it to you. It's something you have to experience to truly understand--like a hot out of the oven chocolate chip cookie. I can describe it to you. I can show you pictures. But there's nothing like the taste of one in your mouth.

Anointed. Transformed. Redeemed.

What a title.

And the authors? It's like the top of the order in a baseball lineup.

Priscilla Shirer. Beth Moore. Kay Arthur.

Heavy hitters. They're part of my "Dream Team." You know, those people you'd love to meet but if you did, you would definitely embarrass yourself because you couldn't stop talking about how you feel like you know them because they've been such an integral part of your life?

I just want to give you a taste of that chocolate-chip cookie. Because of copyright law, I only have the words from Priscilla Shirer's website. No, it's not the same as listening to a Godly, Spirit-filled black woman getting down with some preaching. But it's still powerful stuff. And if you want your cookies steaming hot, Lifeway.com sells the book and the videos:

He is the First and Last,
The Beginning and the End!
He is the keeper of Creation and the Creator of all!
He is the Architect of the universe and the Manager of all times.
He always was, He always is, and He always will be...
unmoved, Unchanged, Undefeated, and never Undone!

He was bruised and brought healing!
He was pierced and eased pain!
He was persecuted and brought freedom!
He was dead and brought life!
He is risen and brings power! He reigns and brings Peace!

The world can't understand him,
The armies can't defeat Him,
The schools can't explain Him,
and The leaders can't ignore Him.

Herod couldn't kill Him,
The Pharisees couldn't confuse Him,
and The people couldn't hold Him!

Nero couldn't crush Him,
Hitler couldn't silence Him,
The New Age can't replace Him,
and "Oprah" can't explain Him away!
He is light, love, longevity, and Lord.
He is goodness, Kindness, Gentleness, and God.
He is Holy, Righteous, mighty, powerful, and pure.

His ways are right,
His word is eternal,
His will is unchanging,
and His mind is on me.

He is my Savior,
He is my guide,
and He is my peace!
He is my Joy,
He is my comfort,
He is my Lord,
and He rules my life!

I serve Him because
His bond is love,
His burden is light,
and His goal for me is abundant life.

I follow Him because
He is the wisdom of the wise,
the power of the powerful,
the ancient of days,
the ruler of rulers,
the leader of leaders,
the overseer of the overcomers,
and is to come.
And if that seems impressive to you,
try this for size.

His goal is a relationship with ME!
He will never leave me,
never forsake me,
never mislead me,
never forget me,
never overlook me,
and never cancel my appointment in His
appointment book!

When I fall, He lifts me up!
When I fail, He forgives!
When I am weak, He is strong!
When I am lost, He is the way!

When I am afraid, He is my courage!
When I stumble, He steadies me!
When I am hurt, He heals me!
When I am broken, He mends me!
When I am blind, He leads me!
When I am hungry, He feeds me!

When I face trials, He is with me!
When I face persecution, He shields me!
When I face problems, He comforts me!
When I face loss, He provides for me!
When I face Death, He carries me Home!
He is everything for everybody everywhere, every time, and every way.
He is God, He is faithful.
I am His, and He is mine!
My Father in heaven can whip the father of this world.
So, if you're wondering why I feel so secure, understand this...

He said it and that settles it.
God is in control,
I am on His side,
and that means all is well with my soul.
Everyday is a blessing for GOD Is!

March of the Penguins

The word of the day is "solitude." Let me use it in a sentence for you: "This mommy had a very long day, so she locked herself in the bathroom for some solitude and a hot bath."

The only problem is the lock on that particular door doesn't work well. I'm dreaming of the day my hubby will have our house finished...complete with perfectly functioning bathroom door locks.

Doug was supposed to be watching the kids. He thought they were quietly entertaining themselves--you moms out there would know silence is the first clue that something is up. But to dads, silence = don't ask / don't tell.

My two year old was the first to break into my escape: "Mommy? What doin? Mommy?"

I tried silence--maybe he'd think if I didn't answer then I wasn't really in there. But no. When mommy doesn't respond beyond a locked door, that must mean she's drowning or otherwise needs help. So, he started furiously twisting at the knob until the door popped opened.

"Hi mommy. What doin?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You takin' a bath? You dirty, mommy?"

And so it went, one rapid fire question after another. I could have been wearing a ballgown or a tutu--he was totally oblivious to the naked factor. It hasn't sunk in to his two-year-old brain yet that nakedness is not something to be shared...so he strips down, ready to join in the tub filled with lots of splashing water!

"No! You are not coming in here! The water is too hot!"

By this time, both twins crawl single file through the revolving door that is my bathroom and pull up on the side of the tub. Both look at me, grin, and giggle. This is funny--mommy IN the tub and us OUT of the tub.

And then all three children decided I wasn't having enough fun. One by one, a chorus line of six tuxedo penguins in snazzy bow ties, top hats, and inner tubes jumped into my pond. But since the tub is pretty small, they looked more like dancing bumper cars than a bunch of Fred Astaire penguins dancing with their Ginger Rogers. All that was missing was a Frank Sinatra song playing "Fly Me to the Moon."

But the fun ended when Amelia turned over my cup, spilling ice on her and frigid water all over the floor. Naked me leaps into action, scooping up ice and comforting a screaming Amelia who has never encountered cold water before. In that instant, Wyatt used the distraction to jump in the tub.

My moment had passed.

I love my children. I wouldn't give them away even on their worst days. But they do make me understand Paul's admonition that it's better to stay single and not marry so you can be wholly devoted to Christ. I need solitude to meet with God...and solitude is something my crew just doesn't want to give me except for in the wee hours of the morning and evening when I'm too exhausted to think straight.

An Unusual Adoption

The Very Hungry Caterpillar is a much-loved book that never makes it back on our bookshelves for long. Wyatt loves the page where the caterpillar eats so much he gets a stomach ache. The twins even crawl on me so they can stick their pudgy fingers in the holes where the caterpillar has eaten through the cardboard pages.

So, a month ago when I noticed a Gulf Fritillary butterfly laying tiny yellow striped eggs on my passion fruit vine, I decided to adopt a few caterpillars. I've grown quite attached to the orange-colored critters. Supposedly the spines are soft to touch. But in all honesty: I've been too chicken to test Wikipedia on that fact.
As you can imagine, Wyatt has been nothing but thrilled! He has had "real" bugs! And I let him keep them indoors on the kitchen cabinet!

But after the first few days in a peanut butter jar with an aerated tin foil cap, I realized their home wasn't big enough. Plus, Wyatt was constantly turning the jar at all angles, trying (and most of the time failing) to see the scrawny little caterpillars hiding between and beneath the leaves. I didn't think the constant jostling was too caterpillar-friendly.
Everyone was happy with the new upgraded habitat (my seed-sprouting dome)--the caterpillars had room to roam, Wyatt could easily see them, and there was room for the butterflies to hatch out of each chrysalis and flutter around to say, "Let Me Out of Here!!"

The problem was that the original butterfly kept laying eggs on the vine...and to Wyatt's delight, I kept adopting more caterpillars. So on top of feeding my three human children and 4 cats, I've also spent the last month feeding a hoard of voracious caterpillars! Their appetite would definitely get them booted out of an all-you-can-eat restaurant.

To date, Wyatt has reluctantly released 26 butterflies. I loved watching each lift its wings to the sky in joyous flight. Wyatt, however, wanted to let each one crawl on his finger and cried when a few flew away almost instantly. A couple thankfully climbed up his shirt, and one even elicited a few giggles when it climbed up his face. This time, I chose to leave Wyatt with perfect memories of caterpillars going "pop" and "out popped a beautiful butterfly." But this project, much like life, wasn't that perfect.

Over the past week, a fruit fly invaded the habitat, causing several to die within their chrysalises. And then there were the two who successfully hatched but then fell to the bottom of the cage before they could pump their wings full. I carefully placed those two on flowers and watched as they tried to flap crumpled tissue paper wings. The desire to fly was there. But they never would reach the freedom of the open sky.

We all have the desire to metaphorically fly, to break the chains that bind us in search of something "more". But all around me, I see so many people trying everything in their own power to pump their wings full for that inagural flight. And it doesn't work. So many live a crippled life, crawling rather than flying, all because they can't fathom how a man who died 2000 years ago could transform them in an instant. "Sad" doesn't begin to explain it.

Brave New World

Were I a brave woman, I would have long ago taken Wyatt and twins to the library. But I am not that woman. Instead, I shy away from quiet public places. I'm hyper-conscious of other people's negative reactions to crying or squealing babies.

Even in a noisy Wal-mart, some people blatantly turn their heads, furrow their brows in irritation, and shoot flaming arrows my way when two loud chatterbox 9 1/2 month olds turn down their aisle. I could explain the babies are trying out their new vocal range, but I don't think that would help much, so I duck my head and throw another box of Cheerios into the buggy. Others are more discrete, giving a sideways glare as they purse their lips tightly and clench their teeth.

I try to brush off those negative reactions and focus on the kindly grandmas who ooh and ahh over each dimple on my chubby-faced brood. But as a people watcher by nature, I still notice each face, each reaction. And on bad days, the reactions I know I'll get make me want to just stay home and order everything from the Internet.

So, needless to say, I've intentionally avoided the library. If my children can so obviously interrupt someone's therapeutic, zen-like Wal-mart run, imagine what they could do in a library, a place I equate with a big sign saying, "SHHHHHH!!!"

But they had a book I wanted to read.

From a front desk perched prominently behind the automatic doors, the trio of librarians had to see us coming: Emerson in the umbrella stroller swerving in a less-than-straight path across the parking lot, Amelia trying to squirm out of my arms, and Wyatt bouncing happily as he tried to help steer said stroller.

As I explained that I was the lady they were holding the book for, one of the librarians said, "Do you want to get library cards for the children, too?" Uh....not really something I had thought about. But, sure.

She then led us to the board book section because, as she said, "they can't hurt these books." My mommy self was thinking, "Yeah? You haven't seen my kids; they don't read books--they ingest them." But I held my tongue because on the "short table" where I sat to fill out the forms, she also placed a packet of coloring pages and a huge bucket of crayons for Wyatt.

You can imagine Wyatt's eyes at this point--and eyes not at all interested in crayons. All around him were miles of books! And so many of them placed with their covers facing his eyes, just beckoning him to pull them down and look between their colored pages.

I now have four little library cards in my wallet...and two new Curious George books on my dining room table.

But more than that, I have a sense of relief. This is one of the first places I have felt it was really ok to bring my children. Yes, except for the song of Wyatt's incessant questions and audible excitement over each book he saw, it was as quiet as a tomb in there. But not one librarian batted an eye. It was as if they were all as used to children's noises as I was.

It's a good feeling to know that someone (besides me, God, and family) is ok with my children just being children.