best laid plans

An hour ago I thought I'd go to bed "early".... then I peeked inside a box of old photos, cards, and letters that my grandmother gave to me last weekend for my sister and I to share.

The box contained snippets of the last 6 decades and every item in that box chronicled the life of a very good man who loved his family very much. Both the family he was born to and the family he fathered.

Four days from today would have been his 67th birthday. Dear God, I miss him so.

the vbs experience: a two-way street

The four oldest kids have been going to Vacation Bible School this week at our church. The two oldest kids are volunteering and are working with younger kids, and the next two are participants. The latter "pair" of children I refer to, of course, include Mr. Personality (aka Number Four).

Now, I was a wee bit hesitant to sign him up because of his... er... (how do I say this in a sweet manner that won't give him a complex if he ever reads it?) effervescent demeanor. However, he has really been a gem as of late, so I went with it.
The first day, I walk him in and smile at his teachers (thinking perhaps they should be warned, "be afraid, be very afraid)but they didn't smile back and were sitting there like cardboard cutouts of real people, so I introduced him to some of the volunteer teens I happened to know. Thank God for the smiles from the younger folks.

When the kids got home on Monday, Number One laments the fact that she couldn't be in her youngest brother's class. "Why" I asked. She explained that on three occasions, she heard the teachers looking for him. Apparently he runs ahead and does not like stay with his teen buddy.

Day two went fairly well, there were no reports that made me cringe. But then today when I picked the kids up, one of the women who are in charge of VBS came up to me and said, "Well, he doesn't like to hold his buddy's hand, so we told him to hold on to the back of his shirt, like a train."
"Very good," I raved, "I like it when other folks think outside the box where he is concerned. He is a special child."
Then the teen buddy walks up with Number Four safely clutched to his shirt tail. "Momeeee!" he squealed as he saw me. His eyes were bright and happy. "Um," started the teen, "he has a glue dot in his hair. And we couldn't get it out."
"No problem," I said. Hey, I've got five kids, you think a glue dot scares me?
Enter second adult: "Did they tell you that he has a glue dot stuck in his hair? You are probably going to have to cut it out."
"Nah," I said. "I'll get it. I'm not worried."

When we got home, I hear from Number One the saga of the glue dots and how the adults had to find an alternative glue for today's craft project because "some kids" got it in their hair. In a teeny tiny embarrassed-for-my-child sort of way, I cringed. I imagined them rolling their eyes and whispering what a live wire (p.i.t.a.) this kid is.

But, y'know, I got over it quickly when I realized that the goal of Vacation Bible School is to bring folks closer to Christ. Kids and adults alike!

where does he get this stuff?

It went something like this....
Him: Mommy?
Me: Yes honey.
Him: I don't want to take a nap.
Me: mmm hmmm, well, that's too bad. You have to take a rest time.
Him: No, it's too sunny outside. I don't want to sleep during the day.
I want to wait until tonight, when it is dark outside. When it is moony.

raspberries and seam rippers

Let's just say I cannot stand having to remove bad stitches from my stupid monogram machine. From now on, I must repeat this mantra:

If Vera Bradley purses were meant to be monogrammed, God would have designed them that way.

a good kind of busy

Things here have been busier than normal (so much for a relaxing summer).

Number 1 and number 2 just finished up a week-long dance camp in which they nearly danced their toenails off. (Oh, yeah, by the way, Two decided he missed Irish Dance.... Michael Flatley please step aside!)
Number 2 and Number 3 are doing swim team, their first experience with it. It takes up a huge chunk of time and I can understand where the term "Mom's Taxi Service" comes from now.
Number 3 is also doing horse riding lessons and is still fiddling. She is also "auditing" a sewing camp that I am teaching with a friend of mine. It began today.
I was a little nervous. It has been about 20 years since I have worn the "teacher's hat" (that 2 1/2 years I served in middle school ~teaching special ed.~ as a fresh faced, but green college graduate was all I needed to know about the politics of being in public education!!!). King suggested that I pray with him before I left and ask God to take away any insecurities and replace my fear with his peace. Smart, smart man.
The girls in the sewing camp (the first of four weeks) are the daughters of a friend and I quickly learned they have such sweet manners and they get along really, really well together. A bonus!
Also, I realized the real thing to fear was their lack of fear. We had to keep reminding them to slow down. EEEEK! Maybe tomorrow's lesson needs to include pictures of what a sewing machine can do to little fingers. Well, perhaps not, that would scar them to the point that they would never want to sew again.

Next week is VBS at our church. I am putting sweet, rambunctious little 4 in the formula for the week. I think he is ready for it. He has calmed down and is starting to mature enough so that I think he can listen to the volunteers and get a lot out of it. I will also be sending the first three. It will be just the baby and I (anyone want to do lunch?) and I am looking forward to that! I think I can smell a spoiled rotten child on the horizon.

We also have a couple of trips in the future - one to visit my dad's parents, one to see my mom, and one to the beach with sistahfriend (Liz) and her 3 girls. I am looking so forward to each getaway. Things here are a bit nuts, but I think it is a good kind of busy.

fwimmin

Number 5 is having a blast finding her way around the big fwimmin pooh. She has even decided she can jump off the side of the pool to either King or me. Trouble is, you never know when she is going to actually jump.... it could be:

• one, twoooo, freee, jump, or
• one twoooo, freee, fwoha, fie, jump, or
• one, twoo, jump, or even
• one, twoo, free, fwoha, fie, siss, sebbin, eight, jump!

Therefore, you cannot take your eyes off of her (not that I would, dontcha know). She makes me nervous, as she doesn't exactly jump a far way from the side of the pool. I'm so skeered that she is gonna hit her head on the side of the pooh.

Brother, however, knows no fear and sallies forth without a care in the world (strapped into a swim vest!!). His main goal is to have all the fun he can at every moment.

Hm... might be something to that line of reasoning.

post crown appointment

A little sore and beaten up feeling. Not only that, but I had to pay nearly $700 for two hours of said torture.

Maybe this would help.....

er.. then again maybe not.

royalty?

Six days til I receive my crown.

and while I am at it....

Have you ever seen someone driving a car that had what seemed to be at least one hundred pine tree-shaped air fresheners hanging from their rear view mirror?
If their car smells that bad, don't you think they need to consider other methods of making it smell better? Gasoline and a match perhaps?

just askin'

Why do some french fries taste like the smell of cow poop?

getting old: grab the smelling salts, mamma's got a cracked tooth

Ok, it's official, no denying it now, I am OLD.
Back around Christmastime I noticed that one of my molars hurt occasionally when I would chew on something hard. It wouldn't be every time I ate, but when I bit down "the wrong way" I had a mouthful of pain. It eventually got better-ish and I figured I'd wait until my next dental appointment to have it diagnosed.
Yesterday was said appointment.
The diagnosis: Cracked tooth syndrome
The treatment:
First step: crown
Second step (if crown doesn't repair the problem): root canal
Final step (Can you hear "Taps" in the background, too?): removal of tooth and either an implant or a bridge.

I can't even go to Google and look this stuff up without getting a cold, clammy feeling. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel like passing out.
Quick, somebody get the "vaypahs".
I know you may think I am being a "bit-fat-baby-head" about it all. But you don't understand. My smile is all I've got. I used to awake in a puddle of sweat after having had a nightmare about my teeth falling out.
Thankfully, I have the world's sweetest dentist and I do feel as though I am in very good hands. I won't think about the fact that he was probably born when I was graduating high school.

Next up:
getting old part two: why do I now have whiskers?
getting old part three: Depends or those blue pads
getting old part three: how to choose a burial plot