WHERE'S that Easy Button?

Wouldn't it be just dandy if there was an easy answer to all of life's big questions: if there were verses in the Bible that clearly stated what to do...

Thou shalt have dinner at Chili's tonight, and order the sirloin cooked medium rare with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy (light on the pepper) and corn on the cob.

Thou shalt not forget to charge thy Zune before you go work out today.

Thou shalt....

Thou shalt not...

How easy our lives would be then.

But alas, this is not always the case. Sometimes decisions come our way which have no perfect answer. Some of these decisions are even fraught with hefty costs and benefits, neither outweighing the other.

I got some news today that I have secretly wanted to hear, but been afraid that if I heard it that I'd be forced to make a decision that would certainly mean upheaval of my life as I know it. And the lives of my children. My husband's life would be changed little, except in the fact that his whole family had been upended.

It would have been great if I'd heard a "Thou shalt" or "Thou shalt not" from him, too, but he's just being supportive of me while I wait for details. Such a slacker.

Meanwhile, I had to leave home today, thinking about this decision, praying about this decision, and forgot my phone.

No worries. I figured, I'd get on the treadmill, plug my ears with headphones, crank up the tunes and worship.

D-E-A-D, dead Zune.

Okay, God! I get it. Be still and know...

Here am I Lord. Speak.

How did we get here?

I have tried different things over the years, but we are heading into scary territory these days. We have come to a point where the child thinks she has the right to speak disrepectfully to her Daddy and me. She has taken to telling me absurd things like, "You just don't even care!" and, "You don't love me!"
At my wit's end, I mentioned it to my sister.
She is the queen of inventive solutions to correcting kids.
Her suggestion was brilliant. (of course)
Every day (or other day, or week, or whatever time frame works) assign her to write down ways that I have shown love and caring.
And while she was at it, I was to do the same thing.
I'm looking forward to sharing our lists later today.

This morning, after a moment of disrespect, I asked, "Would you speak to your Sunday School teacher that way?"
"No ma'am."
"Would you speak to Pastor David that way?"
"No ma'am."
"Would you speak to [the next door neighbor, your swim coach, your Aunt Chris, a complete stranger...] that way?"
"No ma'am."
"Then you may not speak to me that way."

I've made her repeat what she says to me over and over this morning, until she can say what she wants to say with the proper tone and inflection.
I will not accept this:
"No MA'AM!!!!" (sass)
"No ma'am." (sullen)
"NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT I WAS EVEN DOING! I WAS JUST TRYING TO ...." (you get the point, I'm sure.)

Oh, I can hardly WAIT until she is an actual teen ager.

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

I found this on a blog I read. It was so good, I had to repost it here.

Bath Note (author unknown, but admired)

Don’t be alarmed, the world isn’t coming to an end. I am simply taking a bath. It will take about thirty minutes and will involve soap and water. Yes, I know how to swim. Even if I didn’t, forcing myself to drown in a half-inch of lukewarm water is more work than I’ve got energy for. (Which reminds me, I’m all for science projects, but the next time you want to see if Play-Doh floats, use cold water.)

Don’t panic if I’m not out right on time. I’ve heard that people don’t dissolve in water and I’d like to test the theory. While I’m in the tub, I’d like you to remember a few things. The large slab of wood between us is called a door. Do not bang to hear my voice. I promise that even though you can’t see me, I *am* on the other side. I’m not digging an escape tunnel and running for the border,no matter what I said a while ago. I didn’t mean it. Honest. There will be plenty of time later to tell me about your day.

“Later” means at a time when I am no longer naked, wet, and contemplating bubble gum in the blow dryer. I know you have important things to tell me. Please let one of them be that you have invented a new way to blow bubbles, not a new way to add gum to your hair.

Believe it or not, shouting, “TELEPHONE!” through the closed bathroom door will *not* make the phone stop ringing. Answer it and take a message. Since Amazing Mind-Reading Mom has the day off, you’ll need to write that message down. Use paper and a pencil. Do not use your brother and the laundry marker. We can’t send him to school with telephone number tattoos.

Water makes me wet, not deaf. I can still tell the difference between the sound of “nothing” and the sound of a child playing the piano with a basketball. I can also hear you tattling at the top of your lungs. I’m *choosing* NOT to answer you.

Don’t call your dad at work and tell him I am unconscious in the bathroom. He didn’t appreciate it last time. He won’t appreciate it more this time. Trust me.

No matter how much I would like it, water does not make me forgetful. I remember who you are and why you are grounded. No, you can’t go to Shelby’s house to play. No, you can’t go to Shelby’s house to use the bathroom. If someone is in our other bathroom, you will just have to think dry thoughts and wait. Unless you have four feet and a tail, do not think of going outside to “water” the lawn. I know the dog does it. The neighbors don’t feel the need to call me when the dog does it.

Unless the house catches on fire, stay inside and keep the doors locked. Do not go outside and throw rocks at the bathroom window to get my attention. I know it works in the movies. This is reality, the place where people don’t like to sit in a tub while rocks and broken glass rain in on them. Do not set the house on fire. Call me if there is an emergency.

Emergencies ARE:

1. Dad has fallen off the roof.

2. Your brother and/or sister is bleeding.

3. There’s a red fire truck in front of our house.

Emergencies are NOT:

1. Dad has fallen asleep.

2. Someone on TV is bleeding.

3. There’s a red pickup truck in front of our house.

One other thing: Being forced to use the last roll of toilet paper for a towel does not make me happy. It makes me sticky with little white polka dots. In the future, when the tub overflows, use a mop to clean up the water instead of every towel in the house. For my sanity’s sake, let’s pretend it was the tub, Okay? No, I don’t want to hear the real story. Ever. Especially not while I’m standing in the pool of water you missed.

By the way, all Play-Doh experiments are hereby canceled.

Be good. Entertain yourselves. Yes, you can do both at the same time. Try coloring, playing a game, or paying that stack of bills on the coffee table.

I’ll be out soon. Maybe.

Love,

Your Mom

It's In The Wind

I don't like change.

Let me correct that.

I don't like unexpected change.

I actually DO like change that I have planned. In fact, today's post is all about change.

I have been working on a couple of big projects here in the forest. Shawn and I painted the kitchen cabinets and walls. We had to remove wall paper, but it was worth the work. The only problem now is that I'm not crazy about the color I painted the kitchen. I was trying to reproduce an accidental delight I accomplished in a previous home. No dice. My choices were not close enough to the original to accomplish the same result. And the result I am currently living with happens to be somewhat pink. I don't really like pink all that much.

Before, with handles in the middle of the doors.

After, with the handles moved. Nice, eh?

This past weekend Shawn and I pulled the nasty pink print carpet out of the play room and replaced it with neutral linoleum. We will be laying tile in the kitchen next to it, but the dogs sometimes leave unexpected puddles, and I don't want the floor ruined.

The Big Visit

Once or twice a year my dad comes to Tennessee to visit my sister and me, and our families. We used to go see him twice a year, as children, but now he comes here.

I remember when we were little, and we knew we were leaving the next day to visit him, that we couldn't sleep because we were so excited.

Well, things haven't changed much over time. Whenever he is coming, we get all excited and the preparations begin.

Projects that we have been putting off seem suddenly imperative to finish. Houses are deep cleaned. Menus are prepared. Itineraries are formed. We don't want to waste a minute of the precious time he is here to visit.

So today, while I was painting the inside of my kitchen cabinet a lovely shade of chocolate, (my imperative project du jour) it suddenly struck me.

What am I doing to prepare for the inevitable coming of Jesus?

Am I like the five brides who trim their lamps and fill them with oil?

Or am I like the other five brides who squander the time away, waiting until the last minute to take care of business, until the bridegroom comes and they aren't ready?


1 Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom. 2 And five of them were wise, and five were foolish. 3 They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no oil with them: 4 But the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps. 5 While the bridegroom tarried , they all slumbered and slept . 6 And at midnight there was a cry made , Behold , the bridegroom cometh ; go ye out to meet him. 7 Then all those virgins arose , and trimmed their lamps. 8 And the foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out . 9 But the wise answered , saying , Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that sell , and buy for yourselves. 10 And while they went to buy , the bridegroom came ; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut . 11 Afterward came also the other virgins, saying , Lord, Lord, open to us. 12 But he answered and said , Verily I say unto you, I know you not. 13 Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh .

Wallpapergate: The Cover-up

I have a goal in mind, but I don't know how realistic it is. I have already bumped a large part of the plan until after Dad's visit.
I'm getting a new kitchen for Christmas.
Well, I'm not getting new appliances, countertops, a sink, or cabinets, but I am getting a new floor and paint on the walls and existing cabinets. Plus I got new hardware for the cabinets.
I was going to try to have it all finished by next weekend, but I've been working part time with my Mom, who flips houses. I have been painting gallons upon gallons.
Now it's time to tackle my own home.
Yay me!
So I am removing the old wallpaper, which is hideous, of course. When I have it all off, I will paint the cabinets, then the walls. I wanted to have the floor down, but that's a bit ambitious, even for me.

The Impending Doom of Retirement

You know that grass over there on the other side of the fence?
The pretty, green, plush, wind-blown grass?
It's an OPTICAL ILLUSION!!!!!

I hear it all the time. "My husband just comes home from work and camps out in front of the TV every night and weekend. If only he would get up and help around the house. Why do I have to do everything around here!!!"

Well, as one of those wives whose husband gets off his rear end and helps out, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. Suddenly there's another person under my feet, who actually is doing things. When I ask for something to be done, it actually gets done. Rooms are magically clean without me lifting a finger in them, but then he wants to take a picture of the room and hang it up, so we all have a visual of what we may aspire to, if we so wished. It appears that his college courses in efficiency and process management just may trickle into our home, so I have to think of something clever.

Honey, could you please just run out an pick me up a few things?

Nah, I'm thankful for the help. He's even assisting with the candy making.

And when I came home last night from work, the carport and the shop were neat and tidy.

I can't wait until he's home all the time!