Let your hair down

I wrote this a while back for Internet Cafe. Considering the headlines today, it seemed timely to rerun it.

There was a very famous newscaster in Houston who was on the air for years and years. If you grew up here you knew him from your earliest childhood. He was a very kind man and did great things for the community until his recent death. He was also a local character. So much so that I saw him once on the sidewalk outside Walgreens and I just froze in awe. It was as surreal as if I had seen Bugs Bunny picking out produce at the grocery store. He always wore loud suits and ties, blue tinted glasses, and a very white, very luxurious wig.

Well, we are in Texas, y'all.

Recently I heard an interesting story about him: When he first started appearing on the air, he had a phobia that is common to man. He feared that he would go bald, and the entire city would watch the eventual demise of his glorious mane. So, to avoid that humiliation, he began wearing a wig, so that no one would be able to tell whenever it happened.

Guess what? It never happened. He never lost his hair. For decades, he awoke every morning and put a hot, sweaty, piece of synthetic on top of his real, perfectly nice hair, in a city where 100 degree temperatures are the norm. All because of fear. Crazy, huh? So irrational.

Aren't most fears just that? So irrational?

In this country, we all love a good scare. If you believed the media hype, California should have fallen into the sea long ago while the rest of us were chased by killer bees who stung our flesh-eating bacteria ridden arms. The only reason that we haven't all starved from the Population Explosion is because of SARS or Bird Flu. And I would have thought that Y2K or the Second Ice Age would have wiped us all out before we even had a chance to worry about Global Warming.

Those of us who become mothers face another onslaught. If the coffee I drank when I was pregnant didn't ruin my children surely all those toxic plastic bottles and pacifiers will. And what about that bacteria they consumed when I gave them baby food from a jar they had eaten from previously? And don't get me started on the future calamity I inflicted upon them because I couldn't breastfeed.

We just love a good scare.

And then there are the more personal scares: fears of death; fears of cancer; fears of losing our children, our husbands, our jobs, and our material wealth; abductions; failure; shame; not being a good mother; what other people think; insert your's here - I know you have a list like I do.

How much time do we waste on fear and worry?

I am not saying that we should be irresponsible and just stop wearing our seat belts or eating our green leafy vegetables - no. Not at all. It is our duty to prevent as much evil from happening as we have the power to do. I do believe that the majority of our fears, however, have a minute chance of happening - regardless of how much we worry about them.

Chances are we will never lose our proverbial hair. Yet, we walk around sweating under big stinky wigs because of the "it could happens."

Personally, I have dealt with paralyzing fear of losing one of my children. Could it happen? Of course it could. Have the hours I have spent lying in the dark worrying prevented it from happening, even one tiny bit? Nope. All it did was rob me of my much needed sleep.

Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch Christian who saw the majority of her worst fears realized in Nazi Germany, had this to say about worry:

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow.
It empties today of its strength.

and

Worry is a cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a center of fear.

Oh, what a waste of time!

What does the the Lord say about it?

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." So we say with confidence, "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?"
Hebrews 13:5-6

The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?
Psalm 118:6

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
2 Timothy 1:7

So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:31-34

I could go on and on. Phrases such as "fear not", "do not be afraid" and "do not fear" are mentioned more than 100 times in the bible. We are commanded not to fear even more than we are commanded to love!

I think we begin to fear when we forget to trust. I must remind myself - daily - that God is sovereign over all, that not a hair falls from my head without his will, that he is in control of and has ordained every single detail of my life, and will use any trial that does come my way for my sanctification and for his glory.

I can choose to meditate on my worries or I can meditate on the goodness and strength of a Father who loved me so much, he sent his only son to face the worst fears imaginable.

Only then can I take off my hot, stinky wig and rejoice as I shake my hair in freedom.

As Ms. Ten Boom said,

Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.

Reflection:

1. Make a list of your fears, either irrational or reasonable.
2. Confess your lack of trust and pray for forgiveness and the ability to repent.
3. One by one, ask the Father to send you a spirit of peace, power, love and self-control.
4. Find some verses to commit to memory that you can speak to your spirit when the worry begins to sneak in.

With thanks to Gary Thomas for his inspirational thoughts on fear.

It's raining, it's pouring, the lazy mom is snoring

Y'all might have heard we got a ton of rain all night and all day. I got a call at 6:30am from Shepherd's teacher telling me that school was canceled while the thunder rolled across Houston. And rolled. And rolled.

Dear God, thank you for the rain, that lasted all day. And dear God, thank you just as much for the cartoons, that I parked my children in front of for the duration of the rain, that lasted all day.

Sometime this afternoon one of my children actually muttered, "I'm sick of watching TV" and wandered away to do something creative like paint or something. At which point I rolled over, aimed, and fired up an old Oprah.

The topic was "Moms' Guilty Secrets."

So here's mine, Oprah:
Today, while the rain spattered on my window panes, I dozed on the couch while my kids watched about five times the APA's recommended amount of TV viewing for preschoolers.

And it was heavenly.

The way we live, we should have some immunity

My husband and I have several small children. Our life is not hard, no ma'am. It is not hard. I know so many others who have some hard lives. Our life, however, is very very very exhausting.

On top of that, my husband's work year has been hard, the hardest of his career. Stressful, constant threat of layoffs, rearranging, vanishing executives, pay cuts - y'all all know what I am talking about because chances are you are in the exact same possibly sinking boat.

And that, my friends, is why my husband and I need - and I mean neeeeeeeeeeeeed - to take a vacation, alone, ALL ALONE, with NO ONE invited under five feet one and a half inches tall. Which is my height. I know, I know, I'm ridiculously short.

So, Stressed Out Husband and Exhausted Wife decided on a vacation spot. And did the rather complicated task of finding childcare for all said children for several days. While Stressed Out Husband was growing a new ear in Vegas, Exhausted Wife spent a good six hours - and she is not exaggerating because she gets very OCD when it comes to large purchases - online looking at every. single. resort. in the chosen destination.

I'll move back in the first person now to say that finally, at 2 o'clock in the morning, I found one. Many things sold me on this particular spot, but the main one was the combination of two of my favorite things in the entire planet, put together so beautifully, so poetically, it could only be divinely inspired:


Yes, invisibles, that is a BED.

On a BEACH.


Have you ever seen anything more glorious in all your life???

I intend to lie on it, for hours, with no one poking me. Unless it is to ask me if I need another fruity slushy drink in a coconut with an umbrella straw. For which my answer will be, Why yes, I DO, and I will lie right here while you go get it for me, bring it to me, let me drink it all by myself with no one grunting for a taste or begging for the strawberry or sticking their germy little fingers in it, and then you may take it away and you may wash the glass. While I lie here. With my de-stressed husband. In my BED on the BEACH.

So I reserved it. Then, holding my breath, gave my credit card number. And hit enter. And exhaled. And thought how great it is that four kids = rather large tax refunds.

But then, the next day, news began to hit the papers, some rather disturbing news. The next day, there was more news. Then more. Then travel advisories were issued. Worries surfaced.

And yet, amidst the reports, I look at my BED on the BEACH, and I fearlessly proclaim:

I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO STINKIN' PIG FLU!!!!

What happens in Vegas...doesn't stay in Vegas

Walker returned from Vegas last night, which incidentally is his least favorite city on the planet. He hates it. Once he came home from a trip there, and I was pregnant, and when I opened his suitcase the smell of sin cigarette smoke came out of there like a cloud of death and I immediately turned around and puked in the sink.

I would worry about offending my contingent of Vegas readers but you know what? In all my blogging days I don't think I have ever seen Las Vegas, NV show up on ye olde sitemeter. So I am plodding along without trepidation.

Anyway, Walker's flight from Sin City landed Thursday at midnight, and if that weren't bad enough, his truck had a flat and he had to take a cab home. But wait, there's more.

He arrived with an issue, you might say. It involves his ear. It's BIG. I mean, point and stare big. And red. And swollen.


I am pretty sure had his flight been delayed, he could flown home all by himself. Well, maybe a little lopsided.

The doctor gave him steroids and antibiotics and if it gets "worse" to go to the ER. Worse?? Define worse please?

He also said it was very serious, and if the infection got into the cartilage, well. This may be Walker's permanent new look.


And I am a very bad wife because when he told me that, I had to stifle a giggle. Okay, I am giggling again now. It's not funny, it's not funny...

Meanwhile his mom is calling every twenty minutes with the latest dire diagnosis she has gleaned from Dr. Google and we're keeping ear watch while drinking Chardonnay and ordering more Thai delivery. And watching the missed Office, thanks to all you Hulu advisers!!

Then we'll watch some more cable TV. Retrieved conveniently via the satellite dish attached to the right side of my husband's head.

Oh no he di'int!

In the car on the way home from school:

Shep: Mom, is the house clean?
Mom: Well, nah, not really.
Shep (accusingly): Well then why don't you go home and clean it?

......oooooooooooo........

And now a word from our sponsor

I have mentioned that I am an Orient Expressed sales rep. Orient Expressed is out of New Orleans makes the cutest children's clothes on the planet. Many of them smocked, but also lots that are unsmocked.

Go check out their website to see what I men. Oh, so cute. The way little girls and boys were meant to dress.

They are having a special unpublicized sale starting this weekend that is crazy - 30-50% off the Spring merchandise and $5 shipping. Orient Expressed has never done this before, so this is out of control for them. In order to get the sale prices, you must order through me.

If you want to see the prices and place and order, shoot me an email and I can send you the spreadsheet with the sale prices: itsalmostnaptime @ gmail . com.

Eva Rose is getting this one because she has been dying for a dress that "shows her back" (sigh) and for $24, I guess I'll let her have it.

Walker is out of town. Need I say more?

Happiness is: Women's retreat this past weekend with an awesome speaker whose talk totally aligned with Piper's Spectacular Sins.

Sadness is: business trips.

Happiness is: discovering an amazing Thai place that delivers.

Sadness is: leaving the leftovers your mother-in-law packed up for you in the car all night.

Happiness is: having The Office on the DVR for over a week in anticipation of your husband's return when you can watch it together.

Sadness is: intending to delete Word Girl, and deleting the long-saved and much-anticipated Office episode instead. Honey, I am so, so, so, so sorry.

Happiness is: Kindergarten Roundup.

Sadness is: Kindergarten Roundup.

Happiness is: a hiphop artist who reads Jonathan Edwards and works the theology into his rap songs. And Piper's voice!! Unbelievable. Get the podcast interview here.




Uhn - soLI deO GloriA uh

Y'all, I am now hip hop.



Yo.

Peace out.

Those meddling kids

My son has recently discovered/become completely obsessed with Scooby Doo. He and his sister laugh out loud as Scooby and Co. catch one villain after another. As for me, hearing the theme song and the voice of the never-aging Casey Kasem brings back a whole lotta memories.

My big brother, Jay, and I helped Mystery, Inc solve many a mystery with our mom's best friend's kids and psuedo-siblings, Michael and Shelly. And when we did, we played the game that my own kids are already playing: we chose one of the characters to "be" while we watched the shows, and later when we re-enacted the scenes.

The problem was, that I was the baby. I was the baby of the the pseudo-sibs, I was the baby of the family, I was the baby of the whole dumb neighborhood. I was always the baby. Honestly, it gives me a little sense of joy that since Walker is the firstborn in his family, I am finally the oldest. Never will I sit at a card table again!!

Being the baby meant that I was easily persuaded. Being the baby meant that I was easily manipulated. Being the baby meant that I was flat-out pushed around. So you know what being the baby meant when it came to cartoon and sitcom personification?

It meant this:

Shelly:


Missy:

Shelly:


Missy:


Shelly:


Missy:


or sometimes (huff)


Shelly:


Missy:

And being the baby and having glasses?
Oh girl, you KNOW what that meant.

Shelly:

Missy:

I hated being Velma. Hated it with every fiber of my pre-adolescent being. Velma was not pretty. Velma did not have great hair. Velma always lost her glasses. Velma was even a tiny bit manly.

But even I had to admit, they did have a little reason to cast me as the dreaded Velma.

Missy - 9th birthday.

Sigh.

Jay always wanted to be Shaggy.

I don't want to imply that Scooby Doo has any kind of prophetic powers or anything. But here is a picture of all of us, several years later. Jay's on the left. Now, tell me, just whom does my brother resemble?

Jay, Missy, Michael, Shelly, Billy (Shelly's husband) c. 1990

This was during a very dark period where he did indeed consume his share of Scooby snacks.

Today on Scooby Doo, the beautiful Daphne said, "Fred's background in a traveling musical theater group really helps him with the disguises. And sometimes when we are scared, he will sing songs from Showboat." Then she almost whispered, "It soothes us."

Well, I guess that solves the mystery about why Daphne and Fred never dated when she so obviously wanted him. And, why he wore the ascot.


Which brings us to Michael, who always wanted to be Fred. Again, not insisting that Scooby has the gift of prophecy, but, let's just say that if you are looking for a good interior decorator...I can give you Michael's number.


Scooby Dooby Doo, here are you, you're ready and you're willing. If we can count on you, Scooby Doo, I know we'll catch that villain...

The Lord will see me through

I have faced many trials and tribulations in my life.

I have overcome many obstacles along my path.

But few have been more challenging, and more frustrating, and more defeating, than trying to get four children to look in one direction and smile the two point five seconds that it takes for JUST. ONE. STINKING. PICTURE.

Welcome inside my brain at four o'clock this morning

Who's poking me? Someone is poking my arm...am I dreaming....no. Someone is poking me. Eva Rose. Wow, it's dark, it must be 4am. Way too early for her to be up. She's not there. Walker? No, he's in..where is he...Albuquerque. There's no one here. My door is still shut...I know I was not dreaming that, that was a very hard poke. What's going on?

Now I am wide awake. Great.

The burglar alarm is on, so it's not a bad guy. Oh I love that alarm. Thank you God for burglar alarms. There is no one in my room but I know someone was poking my arm.

(Roll over.)

If it wasn't a human...a ghost? Oh my Lord, a ghost? Wait, I don't believe in ghosts. But I do believe in demons. Was it a demon?? Just like we were just talking about at bible study last week!! Oh my crap...something. was. poking. me! (thump, thump, thump of my heart reverberates in my ears.) What do I do now? Pray! Dear God...

Wait a minute, sometimes God wakes people up, too. No need to assume the negative. Doesn't have to be a demon, could be an angel. God woke up Samuel three times. Okay. I am going with that. Maybe God woke me up. By poking me. Whatever. I choose to believe that. Happy thoughts. Going back to sleep.

Wait a minute. If God woke me up, what am I supposed to do now, pray or something? Read my bible? Do I have to turn on the light? But God, it's 4am.

There's the poke again! I knew I wasn't dreaming! What is that?

Oh, for pity's sake, it's a muscle spasm. Who gets a muscle spasm in their bicep!? I have never ever heard of such a thing. Good grief. That was too weird. It's still going. Feels exACTly like someone poking me. Wow. Bizarre. Okay. Go back to sleep. The kids will be up in two hours, Missy! Go back to sleep.

Why would my arm do that? Maybe it's not a muscle - it is thumping so regularly, it almost feels like it's pulsating. Maybe it's like a vein throbbing. Don't heart attacks cause pain in your left arm? What if this is just the precursor to a heart attack? Oh my gosh! What would I do? Walker's out of town! I could die right here in my bed! The kids would walk in and find me! Could Shep call 911? Could he even find the phone? God, please don't let this be a heart attack, or at least let me have the heart attack in the daytime. Please, please let me get some sleep first.

I choose to believe that this is a muscle spasm. Man, when is it gonna stop?

Go to SLEEP, Missy...go to sleep....Dear God, please let me go back to sleep...

.

Missy Loves Walker

My husband sent me an email yesterday with nothing but a link.

Turns out he had run across a website where you can make a movie.

The title of it was "Missy Loves Walker" so I expected something sweet and adoring and mushy regarding our marriage of almost seven years. Like, a rewrite of the Joanie Loves Chachi theme song I used to sing my heart out to in seventh grade. You look at me, soft as any touch could be...

Instead, I got this.




I should have known better.

But, I must admit, I did fall in love a little bit more.

I'll write this in my special perfumed journal.

Twas the day after Easter, and all through the house

Did you have a good Easter? We did, and I will upload pictures of Sailor Suits '09 as soon as I get my camera back from my mother-in-law's where it got left. Now I sit exhausted, feeling not one bit guilty for pilfering all the good candy out of the kids' Easter eggs (Dove chocolates and Butterfinger eggs are not to be wasted on the preschool set, who would be just as satiated with a box of Nerds.) And the smell of crockpot fajitas fills my home.

I must say I have been on a little bit of a roll lately, cooking wise. Which is a good thing because for a while there, I was cooking up some ABYSMAL meals. I was just cursed by the crockpot gods. If we had a dog, and praise Jesus we do not, but if we did I am sure he would not even eat some of the concoctions that came from my kitchen.

Just a word from me to you: Crockpot Chinese Cashew Chicken may sound cheaper and easier than ordering in, however, your husband might declare it "a blob of flavorless mush," and those were really not the adjectives we were striving for. (Or as Shannon would have me say, for which we were striving.) Plus you will have wasted all your cashews, which is a crying sin.

I sacrificed the fruits of my labor to the Insinkerator god and now the hex has been lifted, for which we are all thankful. Momma got her cooking groove back. Hallelujah.

I have recently found some really good crockpot meals, which expand beyond the typical chicken-and-cream-cheese-over-rice recipe.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

But if you too are looking for a chance to break out of the cream cheese rut, I'm here to help, sisters, I'm here to help. As a bonus, there are some non-crocks too.

Crockpot Tortilla Soup
Oh, my word. I am a tortilla soup snob, being a native Houstonian and all. And this rocked the crock. It was too spicy for the kids, so next time I might sub the Rotel with regular tomatoes. Or I might just give them mac & cheese. With Nerds for dessert.

1 46oz carton chicken broth
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts (do I really need to say boneless skinless? Does anyone really still cook with boneful skinful chicken breasts?)
1 can tomato sauce
1 can chopped tomatoes
1 can Rotel
2 cans beans (I used black and pinto)
1 onion, diced fine
1 can corn, drained
garlic, to taste, which is code for lotsa
1 T chili powder
2 t cumin
2 t pepper
1 t salt

Cook on high 4-5 hours. Just before serving shred the chicken breasts and put back in the soup. Top with tortilla chips, avocado, & cheese. Oh, glory. Even better the next day.

Meatloaf
Mary in my old MOPS group gave me this recipe and the first time I made it, Walker said he wanted to have it the next night too. So he is a little obsessed. I double the sauce because it is so yummy.

6oz stuffing

3 large eggs

1 cup salsa

1/2 cup bbq sauce

14 oz sausage, diced fine (I use the Healthy Choice lowfat kind)

2lbs ground beef (I use turkey)

It makes two meat loaves- bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes- for the last 5-10 minutes glaze it with this odd but heavenly mixture: 1/4 cup grape jelly, 1/2 cup bbq sauce and 2 T of salsa (this is the part I double. Or triple.)

Noodle and Spinach Casserole: delicious, and pretty healthy with ground turkey. The whole family loved it. And it would be perfect for a new mom casserole dropoff.

Shrimp Casserole: yummy and not at all healthy. Seems very fancy. Needs some cayenne pepper though.

Chicken Curry in a Hurry: This is my new favorite recipe because we are curry addicts around here. So of course I use about 5x the curry it calls for. I am also a sour cream addict. Oh my word, I could eat the PAN.

Crockpot Brown Sugar Chicken: from the Crockpot Lady. She's right, the kids love this.

Crockpot Bleu Cheese and Cherry Meatloaf: The mom loves this one. I use craisins instead of dried cherries because they are cheaper.

Speaking of bleu cheese, in Boo's Crockpotaloosa, someone said to put pork chops in the crockpot, add a bottle of bleu cheese dressing, and voila. It was delish and truly, it does not get any easier than that. We had it with couscous and asparagus.

I have only gotten through about a third of the 'paloosa, but so far, it has changed my life.

I have fajitas in the crock now...we'll see how they are. Sure smell good but alas, I have been fooled before.

I have brought out my inner Padma for you.
Enjoy!

Update: the fajitas were fantastic!! Here is the link to the recipe. (And turns out she is also the bleu cheese-pork chop crockpot lady!)

He is risen!

.

While you were sleeping

Hi y'all.

I just have a bunch of swirly thoughts running through my brain now so I shall list them and invite you into the tornado that is my cerebrum. Hunker down in the cellar. Except we don't have cellars in Texas so just look for a centrally located bathtub.

1. I have to go to a funeral tomorrow. My oldest dearest friend's dad died on Sunday. Very unexpected. And the fact that he is the exact same age as my parents isn't helping. I feel like I should be able to pull out some profound post about attending a funeral on Good Friday, but it just ain't happening.

2. I am glad Leah has schooled me on how to behave when friends lose parents. Because, crimony, it has been happening a lot lately.

3. Maggie has been waking up at the butt crack of dawn lately. The story of the Naptime life is that, as soon as one kid grows out of some blasted sleep issue phase, another kid picks up the slack. Since the time change, I have been awakened every morning in the DARK by Eva Rose poking me in the cheek. POKEPOKEPOKE. It's so endearing. She finally quit that last week. And now every morning a teeny little blond thing tiptoes in my room and says HI MOMMY. When I say, Get back in bed! It says SOWWY MOMMY and toddles out. It's cute, in a completely annoying kind of way.

4. This morning it was okay though, after begging God to let me fall back asleep, I actually started praying. And God delivered. Got some major Missy/God bonding this am. In the dark. The dark dark dark. Which is where God seems to always speak to me the loudest. Thanks, Mags. Kind of. Thanks God. Lots.

5. Hello, my name is Missy, and I am addicted to Paperback Swap. There needs to be a 12 step program to get me off of it. Because we have. enough. books. already.

6. Hello, my name is Missy, and I am addicted to The Other Boleyn Girl. It's like, The Real Housewives of King Henry's Court. But educational. Not that Real Housewives of Orange County isn't educational, because I have learned me quite a few things from the Bravo Network, yes indeedy I have.

7. I miss my mom. She is currently spending my inheritance on a river boat on the Danube and I wish she were here to do the funeral thing with me. She has this penchant for being out of town when people die. She was in Mexico when my grandpa died. Walker and I picked her up at the airport and had to tell her that 1) her dad had died and 2) Walker and I were engaged. Both of which were quite a shock to her. Especially number 2 since I had been dating Kevin when she left. And she was only gone ten days.

8. I don't watch American Idol. I know that makes me un-American. But I just kind of tuckered out about three seasons ago. So sue me. Because suing is very American and then I will feel patriotic again.

9. Tonight I saw a teeny tiny 2 week old baby getting her diaper changed in the bathroom at the funeral home and the oxytocin that washed over my brain almost made me woozy. We had four friends give birth last week, three on one day! Clara, Charlie, Judah and Lily. Welcome, sweet things. I think I might could be getting the baby bug. Maybe.
Nah, there it went.

10. You know the only thing more fun that going to a wedding where all your friends are? A wedding where all your friends are where your friends are the band! That happened to us on Saturday. These are our very dear friends. They are very amazing. The only time they did not play was to make room for Abba. Ninish years ago, when our friends Rene and Jonathon got married, all us girls ended up on the dancefloor doing this spontaneously choreographed dance to Dancing Queen, and we have done it at every wedding ever since. We all get in a circle and the bride stands in the middle and we dance around her while she swirls in her big white dress. When I got married, it was one of the things I looked forward to the most about my wedding day - having my girlfriends dance around me to Dancing Queen. Carolyn was the queen on Saturday.

11. Another tradition my girlfriends and I have is to do a brunch on Good Friday. One of us teaches a lesson and then we round-robin read the story of Christ's passion. I remember the first time we did it, and Tracy Jo sobbing when she got to the part about them beating Christ. It gets us to focus on what the day means, which makes Easter especially joyful. I tried to organize it this year, and it just wouldn't fall into place. Well, now I know it is because during brunch tomorrow, I am going to be at a funeral. God knew.

Babies, weddings, funerals. That's the cycle, isn't it?
What a week.

Have a blessed Good Friday, as our hearts long for Sunday.

Y'all ready to bring out your inner That Mom??

(If you want to know the reason for the this, click here.)

I get to go first. Tee hee!
Get out your barf bags, because my kids ROCK.

Shepherd at 5:

We read a long time ago that your first born is your best investment, because they will have such an impact on the other children. And we have remarked many times how blessed we were that Shep was our first off to spring. Or spring to off?

He is such an amazing kid. Sweet, loving, affectionate, slow to anger, quick to apologize. Easy.

And he has a heart for Jesus like I can't believe. Shep is constantly making up songs and singing to God, and asking some stinking tough theological questions. I am not exaggerating when I say he knows more theology at 5 than I knew at 25. God ranks right up there with dinosaurs and monster trucks on the list of his most interesting topics. I see already how this rubs off on the other kids.

He's also funny, which is good because we would have to kick him out of the family if he weren't. Sorry, rules are rules. Shep is Senor Malaprop, and the words he comes up with are hysterical. And his reading? I am so proud of his reading.

Shep inherited my spicy tongue - when he was two he called salsa "soup" as he drank it out of the bowl at Mexican restaurants. I recently introduced him to Tabasco and it has completed him. He is a total foodie and that makes my heart sing.

He has the best sense of rhythm. He plays drums ridiculously well: white boy can play that funky music. He has some engineering vibe not inherited from either parent, and the things he is building now with Legos and Bristle Blocks are already way beyond my skill set. Hoping that someone will someday be able to fix things around here.

And his eyes - oh, his eyes. I swoon.


Evangeline at 4:

Two words:
Gorgeous.



Brilliant.

At six months, she said Momma and Dada. At eight months, she added Uh-oh. By ten months, she said ten words. At 11 months, if you asked "Who made you?" She pointed to the sky and shouted, "God!" She was a language freak of nature.

She still is. The words and syntax and analogies and metaphors she uses completely astound me. She is going to be a writer, it is obvious. She just has such a command of the language, she won't be able to help it.

She is sweet, helpful, passionate, 100% girly girl, and absolutely in love with her baby brother. She and Shep are the best of friends and have the most special relationship. And Maggie? Well, she fully believes she is Maggie's second mother, but we're working on that. When she just chooses to be her big sister, she is very loving.

And her budding fashion sense?

Makes me so proud.
She's already way cooler than her momma.


Magdalene, at 3:

Ah, Maggie Belle. Pure joy. Ray of sunshine.


Maggie is just sugar. Almost always happy, when she is upset she bounces back so quickly. Silly, loving, dancing, prancing, giggling, artsy, messy, kissing, twirling.

Delightsome. Delightsome Mags.


I really wish that we were somewhere where Maggie could start bringing home the bacon, because I never knew what it meant for a child to be "a natural" until I saw her perform. If we were in LA, I would turn into the most obnoxious stage mom evah.

The opposite of Eva Rose in every way, including speech. She has a pretty severe speech delay and now she is finally starting to talk - actually, shout. Everything is shouted. So while she was already hysterical, now she is even funnier.


Ingram, just turned 2:



And perfect in every way.

Adored, loving, hugging, running, falling, truck loving, hitting, fit throwing, problem solving, and ALL. BOY.

And did I mention perfect in every way?

My child is eating the breakfast of champions: muffins and pork rinds.


Okay, your turn!!

(Please be sure to link to the specific post.)

1. Elisa @ BlissfulE 2. Bobbi @ MomE & Loving It 3. Jennifer 4. Jen @ I'll Think About That Tomorrow 5. Nicole @ Four Real 6. Sunni 7. Mrs. C 8. The Soon-to-be Soccer Mom 9. lisasmith 10. Cat 11. Stacey@Not for Profit,but for Joy

12. Pam 13. Dena @ Green Acres 14. Amanda @ BabyBangs 15. Casi 16. Jenny 17. Katie 18. Holly @ My Life is His Design 19. afamiliarpath 20. Tanya 21. Barclay 22. Sincerely Anna

23. Rikki 24. Jennifer 25. Deirdre @ screamofcontinuousness 26. Heather@Life at Sonic Speed 27. Megan 28. Stephanie 29. Dallas' Mommy 30. susanc 31. Jean

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Remember tomorrow is brag day!!

Holy Week

Original posted 3/15/08 at Internet Cafe

On June 2, 1953, Princess Elizabeth left Buckingham Palace, her home of over 800,00 square feet, and rode to Westminster Abbey in a golden horse drawn coach for her coronation as Queen of England.

During the spring of 33 AD, Jesus made his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem. He was coming from Bethany, but he was essentially a homeless man, for he had said that he had no place to lay his head. Jesus entered Jerusalem on a young donkey - the most humble animal available. Not a horse, and not even a full grown and trained donkey, but just a colt. A simple, stupid beast of burden.

A crimson coronation robe that was six yards long hung from Elizabeth’s shoulders. Made of hand woven silk velvet, it was edged with ermine and two rows of embroidered gold filigree work. Her crown was solid gold and set with 444 precious stones. She also held a scepter that contains one of the largest diamonds in the world, at 530 carats.

Five days after he entered Jerusalem, the governor's soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand and knelt in front of him and mocked him. "Hail, king of the Jews!" they said. They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. (Matthew 27:27-30)

Designers and seamstresses worked on Queen Elizabeth’s coronation gown for sixteen months. The white silk was elaborately embroidered in pastel colored silks, pearls, diamonds, pale amethysts, golden crystals, gold and silver bullion and sequins.

Jesus was stripped of all his clothes and hung on a cross. He was completely nude. Naked and exposed, he was humiliated in front of his mother and all of his friends and enemies. His clothing was then gambled away by strangers.

I am a daughter of the King. Therefore, I am a princess. But what kind of princess do I really want to be? Am I striving after what the world considers royalty? Or is it my goal to exhibit my royal blood in the same way that Jesus did?

My daughter Eva Rose is 3 years old, and has recently entered her “princess stage.” She is obsessed with castles, tiaras, and ballgowns.

I’m a whole lot older than Eva Rose, but think I still retain a little of this princess attitude myself. I definitely think my husband should be Prince Charming, and can get very frustrated when he isn’t. I want my children to be perfect princes and princesses, with appropriate regal attire, and I especially want them to behave in a royal manner. (Boy, is that fantasy going royally unfulfilled.) And I want my home to be a castle, beautiful, with everything just so. Jewels and wealth and servants to do my bidding would be awfully nice as well.

But this is the worldly view of royalty. And if I want to grow in godliness, I need to Get Over It.

Our King didn’t live like that, not in the slightest. Why should I, his daughter, expect such things? How can I closer reflect his life in my life? How, as John the Baptist put it, can I decrease and Christ increase (John 3:30)?

Reviewing the events of Easter week, the word that most comes to mind is humility. The Lord of the Universe, the Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, humbled himself in the most degrading way possible, that I may be called a child of God, a member of a royal priesthood, an heir to his glorious inheritance.

Humility. I am closer to godliness when I am changing a dirty diaper than possibly at any other time!

Humility. I more resemble Christ the King while cleaning the toilet than if I had a 800,000 square foot palace full of servants.

Humility. I reflect the splendor of my Father more when I am gracious to a rude salesclerk than Queen Elizabeth did in all her finery on her coronation day.

Lord help to remember this, change my heart to be thankful for the opportunities to lay down my time, my pride, and my life for others.
Change my spirit that I would not be bitter or resentful of the unending chores and sacrifices.
Renew my mind that I may see them as opportunities to become more like the daughter of a heavenly King, who condescended to save me from my worldly desires.
Lord, teach me what it means to be your Princess.
Amen.