The Cruise in Retrospect

If I had to express how I feel about the cruise, I'd simply say this.

I had a fabulous time.

I was pampered.

I was cared for.

I was relaxed.

I rested.

I enjoyed myself.

That said, I could take or leave the cruise scene. I enjoyed not being responsible for food, cleaning, or childcare for a week. But we don't drink, we don't gamble, we don't care which man has the sexiest legs or the best belly flop. We don't enjoy suggestive humor all that much, and we were never really into the Beetles. And who knew that karaoke is really just an excuse to get drunk and make an idiot of yourself?!?!

We don't have money to island hop in search of the best deal on diamonds or tanzanite, so shopping isn't really our bag.

Renting a boogie board and some fins is more our speed. Playing frisbee on the beach is fun and relaxing. Watching Caleb roll around in the surf and sand is entertaining, and taking Hailey to have her hair braided by an island local suits us just fine. Touring an old military fort is educational, and shooting the breeze with the family is great.

Snuggling in a hammock grove with my sweetie is cozy, and the combined sounds of the ocean and the swaying palm trees is enchanting.

Riding ATVs up mountains and back down through sub-tropical forests is awesome, as is sampling the various native fruits and foods of a certain sulphurous island. Snorkeling around a tropical reef on a rainy day is amazing.

The color of the sea is positively alive. I am addicted to it now.

I am pretty sure that I could live comfortably on the beach where Mary and Harley got married. I hope we get to return and revisit some of our destinations someday. Meanwhile, I have tons of pictures to enjoy and remember.

Look What I'm Learning To Do!

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Hailey on the Tomorrowland Speedway ride in 2005

Hailey on the Tomorrowland Speedway ride in 2010

Rambling Rosie

We're back from the land down under. No, we didn't go to Australia. Florida is technically under us. But, now that you mention it, we did go to Japan... I came to a conclusion while we were there.

I love camping.

I love it.

I love taking the camper out and making the beds, putting out my pink flamingo decorations and lights, and playing house in the great outdoors.

I love Disney World.

I love it.

I love seeing the characters and sharing things with my kids that were part of my own childhood, and meant something to me, growing up.

But I don't love the camping-Disney World combination.

Camping is work.

Disney World is work.

There is no down time when you do both together.

I think it would have been better if we had a couple of extra days to just enjoy the campground sometime during the week, instead of running and running, just stopping long enough to sleep, but not sleeping long enough.

Each park really needs at least two days to explore properly. Hailey wanted to wait in lines and get autographs, but I didn't let her stand in all those lines. There just wasn't time. Thankfully, she got all the princess autographs at her Cinderella breakfast. Otherwise, we'd still be in line.

We did ride most of the rides we wanted to ride, and the lines were not bad at all. In fact, we only needed fast-passes for one ride, which we ended up not riding. We had no wait at all for the Tower of Terror. Which, come to think of it, should have told me that I wouldn't like it. I have an extreme fear of heights. I don't like ladders, ledges, or even standing on chairs. Now I know why. I really, REALLY hate the sensation of falling. The first time we rode the Tower, I didn't make a peep. I was too scared to scream. I used every ounce of my strength to hold on to the handles beside my chair, to keep my behind in my seat. Yes, there was a seatbelt, but I wasn't taking any chances.

If you noticed, I said, "the first time."

We rode it twice.

Why? you ask. Good question. I don't even know.

Bethany asked if we wanted to go again. I said I didn't know. Hailey wanted to go again, so I asked Chris if she was going again. She said, "Sure, why not?"

Why not?

WHY NOT???

Because I need my heart to slide back down from my throat to my chest!

And I need clean pants!

But it's all good. I'm just glad we got to see a few of the shows while we were there. Finding Nemo and The Beauty and the Beast were exceptional. The 3D shows we saw were fun, and Shawn got to be "That Guy" in the Monster's Inc. Laugh Floor show.

They gave Shawn and me each a pin that said Happy Anniversary on it, so everywhere we went, people wished us Happy Anniversary.

Caleb got to go through Jedi training and now has his padawan certification.

Bethany and I got our faces painted.
Hailey and I had breakfast in Cinderella's castle.

We learned what pin trading was all about, and spent WAY too much money on pins to trade. (whoever thought up that idea was a genius!) Pin trading brought my son closer to his Auntie Chris, which brought joy to my heart and tears to my eyes.

The campground was really nice, with the exception of how close each campsite was to the next. There was really no privacy, which wouldn't work for regular camping. Disney World camping was fine, since we didn't spend much time at the campground. and neither did the other campers. The pool was fabulous, complete with a gigantic water slide. The kids loved it. We even roasted marsmallows one night at the outdoor theater, where Highschool Musical 3 was playing.

About That Cliffhanger

I know I left you hanging, and I didn't mean to. I just didn't know the answer to my dilemma until today.

I have been homeschooling for some time now. In fact, this is our fifth year. I have loved it. I have enjoyed it. I have hated it. I have groaned some mornings when the sun rose. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions sometimes.

But there was one thing I was always sure of until now. This was what God wanted me to do. This year I have been struggling with a certain young lady, who shall remain nameless. She has whined, complained, thrown tantrums, begged, pleaded, etc. to get out of doing school. I am worn down by the battle. And since I am easily swayed by all such methods, this year has been very difficult.

But all that changed with a single text. Someone in my sister's office quit. Someone who did a job that I knew I could do. So I hit my knees and sent out prayer requests to my friends, asking God what to do. If it was time to send the kids to private school, I needed a job that would pay for it. I have been a stay-at-home-mom since Hailey was a tiny baby. I don't have many marketable skills. Besides, I didn't want to leave my cushy life as a kept woman. But I needed to do what God wanted me to do, so I prayed and dove into the Word, looking for an answer.

I got one.

It wasn't the one I expected, but since it's even better, I'm okay with that.

Shawn got two job offers in one week. He wasn't even seeking employment from these companies, but they came looking for him. The first offer was good, but the second offer was too good to pass up. He accepted it and will start in a few weeks.

It will pay for Hailey's tuition and I will stay home, continuing to homeschool Caleb.

Isn't God good?!?!

**Lest anyone think I'm banishing my daughter, I think she will flourish in school. She needs interaction with other kids more than she has in the past, and she filters her attitude better with other teachers. I wish she would with me, but I know she will do fabulously.

Meanwhile, Caleb needs to work on building a few good character qualities before I subject a teacher to him. I'm hoping a little one on one will help him learn a little tenderness and compassion, as well as respect for his elders.

Good times

Hailey is getting out the ingredients.

Tonight it begins.

The Great Cookie Bake '09.

Actually, there will be cookies and candies, but who's judging? We're making pineapple cookies, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies (with peanut butter this time), mounds bars, peppermint patties, orange creams, strawberry creams, coconut creams, fudge, peppermint fudge, and gumdrop fudge.

Two of my nieces will be joining the fun in the morning.

Memories will be made.

Sugar comas will be induced.

Bring it on.

Score!

Let me just brag for a minute on my darling daughter, will you?
She's not a great test taker.
There have been many pre-test meltdowns in our classroom.
Today was not any different.
But she wants something from me, so she stifled it, for once.
And she scored a 99%!!!

Now I will brag on myself momentarily.
Caleb's grandmother signed him up in the Lego Brickmaster Club early this year.
He watches the mailbox like a hawk, because he gets packages every other month.
He hasn't received one in quite some time.
I emailed them yesterday to ask what was up, and this morning they apologized, fixed his messed up membership, shipped the mailings he has missed, and extended his membership for
Five extra mailings!!! (That's ten extra months!!)

SCORE!!

Wordless Wednesday (cousins)

Time's a-flyin'

Eleven years ago today (it was a Friday, thanks for asking) my doctor sent me to the hospital to have labor induced.
God gave us a little baby girl, wide eyed, and bald-headed that evening, and my life has never been the same.
She had the faintest red glow about her head, so we knew she'd be a red-head.
She is beautiful.
She is precious.
She'll always be my baby,
the one who first called me Mommy.

Happy eleventh birthday, sweet girl!
I love you Hailey!

A pile of...

I am cracking up, here.
I just finished folding a load of laundry.
The kids put theirs away, but Hailey missed part of hers.
So I yell down the hall...

Hailey, come pick up this pile of shirts.

Well, it's better that picking up a pile of something else.

Okay, clearly I grew up around too much cussing. Good thing my kids didn't understand why I was cracking up!

Breakfast at Thomas' **updated**

She's not what I'd call a picky eater. (I have one of those, so I know what that looks like)

But she's not much of a breakfast eater...

unless it's eggs, or pancakes, or waffles, or muffins... anything that requires cooking.

Small wonder that I taught her to cook breakfast-type things.

I dare not tell her to eat cereal. She will have a fit worthy of a two-year-old, and then insist she wants oatmeal.

I dare not tell her to eat oatmeal. She will have a fit worthy of a two-year-old, and insist that she HATES oatmeal.

But when I am tired of looking at my almost-eleven-year-old having a two-year-old fit, I just grab the paddle, and tell her to bend.

Did you know that when Momma is holding a paddle, that it is a bad idea to refuse to bend?

Bad idea.

Very bad idea, indeed.

**edited to add**
My kids pretty much fix their own breakfast, since cereal and oatmeal are simple. I keep easy things on hand, like toaster pastries, french toast sticks, nutri-grain bars, and fruit, but she has to get all complicated sometimes.
Hailey only cooks with permission, and she doesn't cook every day. She just forgets occasionally that I'm the Mom, and her job is to obey.

Note:

I have had a nasty cold the past week. Some of the nights, I have slept in the living room chair in an effort to help me breathe. Apparently Hailey is next on the list to be sick, as I found this note taped to her bedroom door this morning. She must 'REALY' be sick, because she crossed the L in her name, like a T!

Flarp

Some people are naturally good gift givers. Some, however, generally stink at the art. Shawn, for example, usually ends up spoiling the surprise before the time comes.

But if you are exceptionally lucky, like me, you have one person in your life who is very, very good at giving the perfect gift. This person is probably very thoughtful, and by that, I just mean that they put a lot of thought into creating perfection with a gift. Said gift doesn't have to be especially expensive, it just has to fit the recipient to a T. And by that, I don't mean clothes, necessarily, although sometimes it is clothing.

The perfect gift giver in my life is my sister, and my kids were delighted to get their Chritmas gift from their Aunt Chris. She spent about a month compiling a bag full of little delights for each of them: bubblegum scented lotion and body wash for Hailey, mirrored spy glasses for Caleb, Jolly Rancher flavored lip gloss for the girl, a harmonica for the boy, among all the wonderful assortment in Caleb's bag was a canister of Flarp. In case you don't know what Flarp is, I will enlighten you. It is essentially a can full of farts. And who doesn't like hearing a good poot? Of course the toot putty produced, along with the sound of butt burps, uproarious laughter.

Thank you, Auntie Kiss!

Revelation

Well, I'm ready to tell you all what I saw when I finished clearing out Hailey's closet.

Kelli and Tina noticed the itty-bitty hangers that we no longer need in our big-kid house. That's what struck me and left me teary.

Hailey isn't my baby girl anymore. She is getting to be quite grown up.

And what I saw hanging in the almost empty closet was a visual reminder that baby hanger days are slipping past, and we are moving on to big-kid/adult hangers.

So I had to take a picture.

Hold your babies a little tighter this Christmas for me, will you?

Conversations with Santa

Yesterday at the mall, we came to the Santa booth where you can sit on a strange man's knee and tell him what you want for Christmas and get your picture taken. Preferring to focus on the birth of Christ at Christmas, we have never 'done' the Santa thing. So imagine my surprise when Hailey said she wanted to go see him and have her picture made. Sometimes you have to listen to what is on their little minds and not jump to the 'no' that wants to burst out. A very interesting conversation followed.

Me: Do you think that is really Santa Claus?

Hailey: No, he doesn't really exist.

Me: So, who do you think that man up there is?

Hailey: Just a man in a costume.

Me: What would you say to him?

Hailey: I'd tell him what I want for Christmas.

Me: And what do you think he's going to do about it?

Hailey: (hesitates)

Me: Do you just want to be able to say it out loud?

Hailey nods.

{Picture lady tells her that since Santa isn't busy right now, she can go talk to him for no charge}

Hailey: Please, Mom? This is just one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. I've never done it before, and I'm getting too big.

So I let her do it. And you know what? While she was talking to him, I had the woman snap a picture. It wasn't one of those cheesy grin ones, just her having a conversation with a complete stranger about the desires of her little heart. And it was so precious, I bought it.

Random conversations

Real Hypothetical conversation between a random nine and ten year old:


Random ten-year-old girl: Just wait until you are in fourth grade. You'll have to go to big church.

Random nine-year-old boy: Boring, huh?

RTYOG: Not all the time.

RNYOB: [[shrugs]]

RTYOG: If you take it like a man, it's not so bad.

Random Mom sitting at same table: [[snorts sweet tea out nose]]

Too much?

How do I say the words and not sound like a heartless Mom?
"You have no idea what trauma is. You don't know what real loss feels like. You don't have a clue what it means to be afraid of your mom, and flinch or brace yourself when she comes near enough to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear."
Hailey is lamenting the loss of her beloved sticky candy. She has undergone a baby root canal and now sports a flashy stainless steel crown in her mouth. She is worth more now than ever with all that bling.
This morning we were having a heart to heart in which I was telling her that she was not grown up enough to sit in the front seat of the car. She has been sitting up there with me periodically because she is nearly the size of a small adult, and it is easy to think she is becoming a young lady. But this morning she made a decision that was decidedly childish. Not childish in a bad way, but a reality check for me that she really is still a child. When I told her that children sit in the back seat for their safety, and that is where she will be henceforth, she told me that it is just "too much."
Too much? Are you kidding me???
Child, you have no idea what too much is.
Until you have lived a life of ducking when your Mom walks by,
Until you have felt so sick from the chemotherapy that is keeping you alive,
Until you have held your tiny son for the first time while the breath of life slips away in him,
Until you have felt the floor under you rumble and your nostrils fill with burning jet fuel,
Until you have seen the building your father works in crumble to the ground,
Until you have heard the wail of a mother who has lost her only child,
Until you have seen the desperate faces of those holding pictures of missing family members,
You have no idea what "too much" is.

I'll take a brownie, hold the poo, please.

The same conversation comes up every now and again. I still feel as strongly as I did before, but the explanations always get a little more detailed.
Hailey wants to know why she isn't allowed to participate in sleepovers. I have already explained why to my readers, but have not given her the full details. I don't want to give her more than she can handle, and sometimes it is good to ask your kids to trust you. That the decisions you make are not arbitrary, but rationally thought out, and with their best interest at heart. We make the tough ones because we love them. It's what we do. It's what God expects of us. And we don't want to let them down if we can help it.
So I started off with this example: (this is a variation of another example I have heard before.)
Imagine I brought out a pan of brownies and offered them to you. They are still warm from the oven, and cut into huge pieces, six in all. They have chocolate chips and chocolate chunks in them. They smell delicious, and they are oozing chocolatey yumminess. You reach for one, but just before you grasp it, you hear my warning.
"One of these brownies has a piece of Zacchie's poo in it. I didn't put a big piece in there, and I'm not sure which one it's in."
What would you do? Would you eat one because there's five chances you won't get the poopy brownie? Or would you pass?
Her answer, "I'd walk away."
Well, this is a little like that. I know the chances of her being hurt at someone's house are slim, but I also know that the statistics are that she might. Why would I be willing to risk her innocence? So I told Hailey that I believed Mr. Tom* wouldn't hurt her, and Mr. Dick* wouldn't hurt her, and that Mr. Harry* wouldn't hurt her, either, but I also believed my friend's daddy wouldn't hurt my friend, and I was wrong.
So I'd rather she missed out on five perfectly good brownies because I wouldn't want to feed her poo.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The Great Pajama Adventure

It all started when Hailey woke me up at 3:15 in the morning. After playing soccer, her knees were hurting, and she needed a leg massage. The minute I left my room and headed for hers, I knew something was terribly wrong in the house. There was an unusually strong musty smell to it. Different from the regular musty smell of an old house that's been rode hard and put away wet, so to speak. It was like the difference from the smell of an old person, and the smell of the same old person, but dead.
So I took a few minutes and rubbed Hailey's leg while I decided what to do. I knew where the smell was coming from. While I was sweeping the hall that day I found that the baseboard between Caleb's room and the bathroom was wet. Shawn thought that maybe the water to the upstairs joke of a bathroom had been turned on somehow, and checked it. He turned it on and then back off. (we don't use the bathroom up there for several reasons. I'll explain later.)
With family coming over for dinner, we got distracted and never thought of it again.

*did you know that water leaks don't spontaneously fix themselves?*

Obviously, if the smell was any indication, it needed immediate attention.
After taking care of Hailey, I moved Caleb out of his room and onto the living room couch. Without waking Shawn, I went out to the shop for a hammer, a razor knife, and a crow bar. I cut the carpet remnant that lies on the tile floor, and began to dismantle the bottom of the wall. The baseboards were saturated and toast. The cheesy paneling on the bottom half of the wall splintered off in a million pieces. Then the sheet rock under it all crumbled off the studs. And there it was. A fine misty spray coming from the ancient brittle PVC pipe.
The water leak.
That's when I shook Shawn awake.
"Honey, I'm in a little over my head, and I need your help now."
"Huh?"
"I found the water leak in Caleb's wall, and I need you to shut off the water."
He took his sleepy, underwear clad self to the other side of the house. I think he might have been a little surprised at the sight.
After turning the water off, and climbing back into bed, I lay there tossing and turning. My brain was awake, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Realizing I was hungry now, and knowing by the sounds coming from the other side of the bed that Shawn was still awake, I told him I was in the mood for some rooty, and maybe some tooty. (IHOP speak, for those of you with dirty minds) Well Shawn was in the mood too, but not for IHOP. (okay, dirty minds) I had a fabulous idea, and with a little coaxing, Shawn went along with it.
I woke up each of the kids, handed them their shoes and told them we were going on a pajama adventure. I had them put on their shoes and get in the car. By now it was 5:15. We drove in silence to IHOP and had breakfast in our jammies.
I am a cool mom.
I had to make up failing Parenting 101 the day before. I'll tell you all about it another day.

Wordless Wednesday (in training for the Secret Service)