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Archive for the ‘Parenting’ Category

I sat down in the back of my Sunday school class, toting the boy, juggling coffee, purse, and breakfast. A visitor to the class (a young teenager) smiled at Isaiah and then said, very sweetly, “Is this your first Mother’s Day?”

I was flattered. I laughed and said, “No, this is actually my third child.” Before she had a chance to be embarrassed I added, “No seriously, thanks, I know. Don’t I look good?”

If it is possible to have pride without being arrogant, I’ll call it that.

If it is possible to be confident without being full of myself, I’d like to claim this one too.

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January 29
John to Me: Does this shirt make me look like I’m trying to be 18?
Me: Why, because it says Abercrombie?
John: Yes, or because it’s so tight?
Me: No, you look good. It isn’t too tight. Seriously. Leave it, we have to go.
Carter: Daddy, you wearing you nipples today?
John: Nevermind, I’m changing.

February 3
“Well, we could choose apple juice, milk or water. And this girl in my class said, ‘Everyone who chooses apple juice only can be my friend.’ So I chose milk. But guess what, when we got to the Life Center, she was still my friend.”
Somebody get this girl a D.A.R.E. Bear, now.

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I am regularly full of brilliant ideas to write about. Stupidly, the majority of them hit me while I am physically attached to a child and therefore unable to do anything with my hands besides play my turn on Scramble. (This is also why I haven’t won against my sister Erica in the last nine rounds.)

Then I got an infection in my right thumbnail. Here’s a fun challenge: try typing for an entire day and only hitting the spacebar with the the thumb you never use. Actually, just do it for fifteen minutes. You’ll get the gist.

Between Epsom salt soaks, garlic water soaks, doc appointments, a round of antibiotics pumping through me and a baby (which, if you know anything about antibiotics and digestion you will understand when I say that these had the opposite of the usual affect on Isaiah), and now, ointment, understandably, I’ve been absent.

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I often wonder how many of my friends living in close proximity to extended family take for granted the availability of someone to come watch their children for a night, a weekend, a sick day.

Some things I am not taking for granted right now:

  • Friends with no children who love our children as much (possibly more) than we do.
  • The courage of those friends to take on the twenty-four hour childcare challenge, times three, and then succeed.
  • An infant who, in just five weeks of life, has given me confidence that he can be away from mama for twenty-four hours, and then prove me right by being as good as I could have expected.
  • Children who can be bribed into good behavior and then totally satisfied with gas station candy as a reward. (more…)

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In the name of Fall, and what I assume is a hormonally induced burst of creativity, I have found myself in Goodwill and Joann’s Fabrics more times this month than I have all year. I have wielded felt, a hot glue gun, duct tape, and duct tape sheetsAnd thanks to Google Images, I’ve surprised myself, artistically speaking.

Without further ado, I’d like to provide evidence that as the cleanest most type-A parents to ever live, every once in a while, we aren’t total deadbeats in the name of fun. (What you do not see pictured is the stick horse we created for Kindergarten Wild West Day, nor the backup costume that doubled as Hey Diddle Diddle, the CAT and the Fiddle for Nursery Rhyme Party Day. Perhaps an update, soon.)

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Dare I admit that the first thirty-seconds of mealtime at our house is a terrible, terrible picture of the way things really are in my house? I’ve been fielding comments in light of my two recent video posts (more face-to-face than written here on my blog) about how “cute,” “sweet,” and “well-mannered,” my children are. This, because we tend to set a few boundaries when it comes to talking to God.

I feel sort of obligated to show a little more reality behind the Baptist facade. And not just in my children.

While growing up, a frequent dinner table comment of my mother’s went something like this: “If you were having dinner at the Queen’s table would you ______?? [Here, insert any number of behaviors, table manners, or the wearing of appropriate attire.]

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Eliott prays for “bigger jobs” for Daddy so she can go to gymnastics, and Carter is in a bad mood.

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I’m attempting a little series.

This is the first, in the series. Perhaps not the strongest. But I feel confident things will only get better.

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John and I are just sitting (laying) here in front of football.  He’s typing a brief that’s due tomorrow while I tackle my back-to-school to-do list (or at least make a plan for when I can accomplish all of these things) and we both just said, “Hm, haven’t called my parents in a few weeks.”  So just to let you know, we aren’t slacking off.  We’re treading water right now and be patient with us.

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It is a rainy Saturday morning and I am avoiding gearing up for a ridiculously busy day.

It has been an emotional week.  The UnderToad has been lingering, and though I know my hormones are more to blame than anything, I can’t help but think several circumstances also contributed.  There have, on the positive side, been some hidden gems of goodness sort of sprinkled throughout everything.

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