Monthly Archives: September 2007

Tuesday September 25, 2007

 

Grandpa R. came over last night for dinner.  He arrived a bit early and I had to run across the street to get some ice from the neighbors.  When I came back I found all three of them sprawled out on the boy’s bedroom floor playing with the trucks.  I loved my grandparents, but I don’t remember them ever getting on the floor and playing with me.  We are very blessed to have not one, but four very hands-on grandparents.

 


He thinks that there is a baby in the oven.  He’s always very excited to see this strange “oven-baby”.  Someday he will figure it out and be a little disappointed to lose a friend.
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Gavin came over to play with us this morning.  He hasn’t played at our house for a while, so it was a special treat for the boys.


He was blowing very hard and when that didn’t work he ripped the tops off and threw them.  What a boy!

He loved playing on the slide, and with anything that could be a choking hazard:)  Such a good lookn’ boy!

He’s turning into a big boy.  Scooting all over the back yard trying to keep up with the boys!  He’s a very careful driver :)

Sunday September 23, 2007

I’ve been thinking lately about my friendships with Jama and Steph.  When we opened out time capsule a few weeks ago, we each read aloud the letter we had written to ourselves 9 years ago.  Listening to our letters really crystalized in my mind the roles we have each occupied throughout our long friendship.

Steph is without question the “brains” of the outfit.  On a daily basis she reads blogs about everything from economics, to philosophy, to local and national politics.  When I read the paper, I read the gossip page and the funnies.  Steph reads the editorial page and then does the crossword puzzle.  I love when she tells me about her work day. She uses all of these important sounding acronyms. She handles emergencies where peoples lives are actually at stake, but she makes it sound like it’s as normal as laundry day at my house.

Jama has always been our spiritual and moral compass.  Back in the day, when our conversations consisted of what kind of car we were going to drive when we got our drivers license; Jama was thinking about the direction God had for her life.  Service to God has always been her passion, goal, and pursuit.  Her education, her profession, free time, extra resources; have all been used to equip herself for the Lord’s use.

Then there’s me. . . . I say stupid things that make them laugh.  It’s not much- but it’s all I’ve got.  I would like to tell you that it’s all calculated and for their benefit, but that wouldn’t be the truth.  Beside, if making a fool out of myself is the price I pay to be their friend… then it’s totally worth it. 

Sunday September 23, 2007

I’ve been thinking lately about my friendships with Jama and Steph.  When we opened our time capsule a few weeks ago, we each read aloud the letter we had written to ourselves 9 years ago.  Listening to our letters really crystalized in my mind the roles we have each occupied throughout our long friendship.

Steph is without question the “brains” of the outfit.  On a daily basis she reads blogs about everything from economics, to philosophy, to local and national politics.  When I read the paper, I read the gossip page and the funnies.  Steph reads the editorial page and then does the crossword puzzle.  I love when she tells me about her work day. She uses all of these important sounding acronyms. She handles emergencies where peoples lives are actually at stake, but she makes it sound like it’s as normal as laundry day at my house.

Jama has always been our spiritual and moral compass.  Back in the day, when our conversations consisted of what kind of car we were going to drive when we got our drivers license; Jama was thinking about the direction God had for her life.  Service to God has always been her passion, goal, and pursuit.  Her education, her profession, free time, extra resources; have all been used to equip herself for the Lord’s use.

Then there’s me. . . . I say stupid things that make them laugh.  It isn’t much- but it’s all I’ve got.  I would like to tell you that it’s all calculated and for their benefit, but that wouldn’t be the truth.  Beside, if making a fool out of myself is the price I pay to be their friend… then it’s totally worth it. 


Friday September 21, 2007


I had planned on cleaning house today while the boys slept.  That did not happen.  Instead I caught up on Xanga reading and had three nice phone calls from three people I love very much.

After I hung up the phone for the last time I was forced to address the question I had been avoiding since lunch, “What am I going to make for dinner?”

So I am falling back on an old faithful recipe.

Crock pot Chicken- (serves 4-6)

10-12 defrosted chicken tenderloins

1 can of Cream of Chicken soup

1 package of dry Italian Dressing mix

1 package of cream cheese

Place chicken in crock pot and sprinkle Italian seasoning over the meat.  Cook on high for about 2 to 3 hours (depending on how hot your crock pot cooks).  Once the chicken is completely cooked, cut the cream cheese up into cubes and place in a small sauce pan.  Melt the cream cheese over medium heat and then mix in the can of soup.  Let the sauce heat up and then pour over the chicken.  There will be quite a bit of liquid in the bottom of the crock pot.  Don’t drain the juices they will help thin out the sauce.  Stir until the juices and the sauce get smooth and creamy. Serve the chicken and sauce over rice.

It’s not a fancy recipe but it’s easy and a real crowd pleaser. I like to make it when I’m having company over after church.  It stays hot while we’re at church and it’s practically ready to serve when you get home.  I usually serve it with a green salad and warm french bread.


Friday September 21, 2007



My oldest son has always been busy.  He keeps us on our toes.  Lately “busy” has turned into defiant, so we’ve had to really step up our levels of discipline.  As I set up the boundaries of the household rules; I watch him methodically approach the limit and then with a sudden burst of energy; he blows right past them.  There are days when I feel like all I have done is fight with him and punish him.  Not only is it exhausting but I spend the day plagued with doubt and guilt.

In the evenings he has started kicking his legs while we try to change his diaper and put his p.j.s on.  I have been kicked in the jaw, stomach, and chest over the last few weeks.  Last night as he suddenly kicked his legs while I was putting on his p.j bottoms he just barely missed kicking me in the face.  His dad said put him to bed right now without his bedtime story.

I thought it was hard to discipline him when he was throwing a fit, but I found out it’s harder to follow through with a punishment when he is truly heartbroken.  He loves his bedtime story and when he realized he was not going to get one his eyes filled with tears.  “Story Mommy?” he pleaded with me.  He did not kick or fight he simply gathered his blanket and followed me to his room all the while quietly crying.

As I put him to bed and he looked at me with those tear filled eyes it took every ounce of strength I had to walk out of the room.  I wanted to scoop him up and say, “It’s okay, Mommy will read to you.”  As I gave Baby Boy his bottle I could hear him in his bed whimpering and saying, “No story… please read a story.”

I’m learning that parenting is tough in ways I had not anticipated.


Friday September 14, 2007

I watched The Devil Wears Prada for the first time the other day. 

My favorite quote from the movie:

          “I’m on this new diet.  Well actually, I don’t eat anything at all; then when I feel
          like I’m about to faint I eat a cube of cheese.  I’m just one good stomach flu away
          from my goal weight.”

Thursday September 13, 2007

6 was the number of times he threw-up this morning.

2 loads of soiled towels, p.j.s, and blankets; washed and dried

3 crackers and a half a piece of buttered bread is all he has eaten in 24 hours

1 trip to the Doctor’s office only to hear- “drink lots of fluids and rest”

2 bubble baths- the first for the smell, and the second for relaxing

1entire day turned on it’s head.

… hopefully Baby Boy will escape without any tummy troubles.  As a mother, it seems I spend a good amount of time second guessing myself, or not figuring things out until it’s too late.  Whenever he gets sick I always think that I should have seen it coming.

I remember the first time my oldest got sick after Baby Boy was born.  I was sitting on the couch with a sick child in one hand and a crying infant in the other.  I called my husband at work and insisted that he come home.  I informed him (in a not-so calm voice) that I simply could not handle a sick child, and a newborn all by myself.  He very kindly and tackfully assured me that I was a very capable woman who would be just fine and then promised to be home as soon as he could.  It’s funny now… kind of!

Tuesday September 11, 2007

The days seem to be moving by quickly and busily, yet at the end of each day it seems I have accomplished very little.  Lately life seems to be about small changes.  A few pound lost, crawling a few more steps, learning some new words, little sandals that are a little too small, getting him to sit on the potty a bit more often.

He has now completely transitioned to solid foods and is loving it.  So often it seems that the second born child spends his/her life racing to catch up with the older sibling.  He is not that way; completely content to move at his own pace.

We went to rest home singing this past Sunday evening.  Much to my shame, we are not faithful attenders.  It is such a small thing; to go and sing a few songs, and they are so appreciative.  Clapping after every song, some of them shouted out “Wonderful”.  As I walk through the dinning hall with my little one in my arms they stop me by placing their trembling hands on my arm.  As they thank me for the “lovely singing” they will gently touch his hands and feet or carefully hold him on their lap.  When I look into their face I see a thousand sweet memories.  They are remembering a time when their limbs were strong, their hands were busy, and they held their own little one on their knee.