who cares if they are comfy or not?!

No 5 needed new shoes so we headed to Payless Shoe Source.  In less than five minutes, black Mary Janes, Hot Pink Champion tennies, and hot pink plastic thong style sandals were the three shoes we had picked out, tried on, and walked to the cash register with.

Imma be real honest:  The older girls and I sort of went gah gah over the pink plastic sandals.
"Are they comfy?" the girls wanted to know when she tried them on.
"Yes!  W....well.... they sort of are," she corrected herself.

Sold!

Today is the day in which we teach the lesson Style Before Comfort.

She has 40 years before she learns the lesson in reverse.

stoically standing at six but remembering four

She sees that she is growing taller and that her clothes from last year are too small.
She knows that she is heading to First Grade in the fall.  She's got things figured out and she doesn't care for them one bit. 
She "misses it when she was four and used to get to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed."  (aka King would not have the wherewithal to say no when she would get up in the middle of the night)  She has been needing hugs a lot more frequently.  We snuggle a lot these days.


She is mourning her toddlerhood.

I am a diligent mother and am standing right beside her, keeping her company. 



Mommy and a Yellow Butterfly

Hello Kitty

After all, one day we will be standing at eighteen and remembering six.

first official entry

It happens so frequently, that I suppose I need to start keeping a log of them all.  Such depth of thought.  Pure.  One day, say, if he becomes a priest, he may want to expand upon the depth and meaning of the snippets he whispers in my ear. 

You know the one.
My butterfly.

"I need to whisper something in your ear," he said to me at the minor league baseball game this evening.
I leaned close, just in case it was something embarrassing like those beans from dinner gave me gas or the lady behind us has weird ears.

"There are no perfect circles," my savant child began, "only God's love."

I looked at him.  Knowing that I must begin His Log tonight.

"You get it?"  he wanted to know.  "Only God's love is the perfect circle."

I smiled a Mona Lisa sort of smile and said, "yep, I get it." 

Log Entry 1

happy fathers' day

Never is he not missed.

 

 

 

But some days it stings more than others.

a snippet of inside

We all have our crosses to bear. One of mine is my weight. "Simple to remedy," folks will say (judge). I try. I fail. Over and over from the time I was about 10. In shape.. out of shape... back into shape... back out of shape. I've grown weary from it all.
I often look at folks who are thin and can look good in whatever clothes they put on. They look so carefree. I envy a slim figure with a tank style tee and billowing linen pants. "God surely has favorites," I quip.
But my true heart knows and wonders what cross(es) must they bear? I suppose despite the fact that it is not something as conspicuous as mine, it must still be equally as painful. Their own private hell.
I guess it is summed up best in the meme I've seen going around many times... be nice to people, you never know what they are going through.
Anyhoodle, let's hold each other in prayer for strength - not only in carrying the obvious crosses, but for those we suffer in the most private chambers of our hearts

update: kefir

Remember when the baby would spit up on your shoulder?  I think that was kefir.

Upside: the little kids (sugar monsters) love it with honey (of course, we didn't think they'd drink it plain, did we?).   Course, it probably negates any beneficial element to add it, even though it is a natural sweetener. 

kefir

I just made kefir for the first time.  Should be ripe in 48 hours.  If I live, I will report on how it turned out. 

If you don't know what kefir is, it is sort of like plain yogurt, 'cept you drink it.  (Two weeks ago, if you were to ask me what kefir was, I would have said, "It's what we call my cousin, the second born son of my father's brother."  His name is actually Keith.)

I combined and warmed Half and Half (note the extremely cute, vintage-styled milk bottle it comes in) and organic whole milk (pasteurized, but not ultra-pasteurized) with the kefir starter grains and am now storing it at room temp in the microwave for the first 24 hours.  Then I am supposed to strain it and let it sit another day. 

Adventures in home chemistry.  Wheee!

margin of error +/- 900 islands

"I know what we can do," declared No 5, "we can take our boiled eggs and dip them in A Hundred Island."

I am again sharing something that I read online.  I am re-posting it because a) it is important, and b) I want my children to read it when they are married with children and feeling like the kids will never learn to behave in Mass.  (Note that the main article was written by *that Mom*.)

********************************************

Dear Parents With Young Children in Church.

Posted on May 29, 2013 by Sharon Harding

Today I want to express my gratitude to *that Mom* for giving me permission to reprint her blog post “Dear Parents With Young Children in Church.“  *That Mom* is a stay at home mama to two little boys and a pastor’s wife. Her blog is well worth exploring.
This particular post really touched my heart. I would encourage you to read it carefully and prayerfully consider the questions afterwards.
“Dear Parents with young children in church,
You are doing something really, really important. I know it’s not easy. I see you with your arms overflowing, and I know you came to church already tired. Parenting is tiring. Really tiring.
I watch you bounce and sway trying to keep the baby quiet, juggling the infant car seat and the diaper bag as you find a seat. I see you wince as your child cries. I see you anxiously pull things out of your bag of tricks to try to quiet them.
And I see you with your toddler and your preschooler. I watch you cringe when your little girl asks an innocent question in a voice that might not be an inside voice let alone a church whisper.  I hear the exasperation in your voice as you beg your child to just sit, to be quiet as you feel everyone’s eyes on you. Not everyone is looking, but I know it feels that way.
I know you’re wondering, is this worth it? Why do I bother? I know you often leave church more exhausted than fulfilled. But what you are doing is so important.
When you are here, the church is filled with a joyful noise. When you are here, the Body of Christ is more fully present. When you are here, we are reminded that this worship thing we do isn’t about Bible Study or personal, quiet contemplation but coming together to worship as a community where all are welcome, where we share in the Word and Sacrament together. When you are here, I have hope that these pews won’t be empty in ten years when your kids are old enough to sit quietly and behave in worship. I know that they are learning how and why we worship now, before it’s too late. They are learning that worship is important.
I see them learning. In the midst of the cries, whines, and giggles, in the midst of the crinkling of pretzel bags and the growing pile of crumbs I see a little girl who insists on going two pews up to share peace with someone she’s never met. I hear a little boy slurping (quite loudly) every last drop of his communion wine out of the cup determined not to miss a drop of Jesus. I watch a child excitedly color a cross and point to the one in the front of the sanctuary.  I hear the echos of Amens just a few seconds after the rest of the community says it together. I watch a boy just learning to read try to sound out the words in the worship book or count his way to Hymn 672. Even on weeks when I can’t see my own children learning because, well, it’s one of those mornings, I can see your children learning.
I know how hard it is to do what you’re doing, but I want you to know, it matters. It matters to me. It matters to my children to not be alone in the pew. It matters to the congregation to know that families care about faith, to see young people… and even on those weeks when you can’t see the little moments, it matters to your children.
It matters that they learn that worship is what we do as a community of faith, that everyone is welcome, that their worship matters. When we teach children that their worship matters, we teach them that they are enough right here and right now as members of the church community. They don’t need to wait until they can believe, pray or worship a certain way to be welcome here, and I know adults who are still looking to be shown that. It matters that children learn that they are an integral part of this church, that their prayers, their songs, and even their badly (or perfectly timed depending on who you ask) cries and whines are a joyful noise because it means they are present.
I know it’s hard, but thank you for what you do when you bring your children to church. Please know that your family – with all of its noise, struggle, commotion, and joy – are not simply tolerated, you are a vital part of the community gathered in worship.”

well, she is sweet like an angel, but we call her fairy godmother

No 5 (w/ a full bladder):  "Hurry up!  I've gotta go, bad!"
No 4 (who has set up shop in the downstairs bathroom):  "Go upstairs."
No 5: "Noooo. Nobody is upstairs and I'm afraid to go by myself."
No 4: "Don't worry, God and your Guardian Angel are up there."
No 5: "My Guardian Angel?   Nuh uh, Mrs. *Insert Surname of Godmother here* is NOT upstairs.