tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33983812790010652482024-03-13T23:56:40.642-05:00Becca and the boysbeccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.comBlogger530125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-63936948513376231862013-12-10T20:58:00.001-06:002013-12-10T20:58:16.857-06:00Santa vs. JesusSanta vs. Jesus<br />
<br />
The topic is hardly important enough to be an issue and yet I see it all over social networks. Pro Santa people, vs. No Santa people. I hope we spend less time discussing this with our brothers and sisters and more time encouraging each other toward love and unity. Paul's letters to the early church are plastered with the theme of unity. Jesus said, "By this they will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." <br />
<br />
Love characterizes Jesus' followers --we can't forget that.<br />
<br />
Matt Walsh has an article circulating titled "Who needs Santa when you've got Jesus?"<br />
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You can read it <a href="http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/12/09/who-needs-santa-when-youve-got-jesus/">here</a> or don't if it is going to make you mad. :-)<br />
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I want to share an excerpt from his article as I feel he makes a good point.<br />
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<br />
<em>Santa makes Christmas magical. If you take Santa away from your kid, you’ve taken all the fun out of the holiday.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>...</em><br />
<em> </em><br />
<em>Santa makes Christmas magical? SANTA?</em><br />
<em> </em><br />
<em>Well, you know, there’s still Jesus. The Messiah. The Son of Man. Jesus Christ is better than magical. He offers something far greater than toys. He doesn’t have flying deer, but he has armies of angels. He doesn’t live in a cabin up in the North Pole, but He does live in a dimension that transcends time and space, and He invites us to join Him there in unending bliss. He doesn’t visit every house on Christmas night, but He’s always present, everywhere, all the time, because He is an omniscient deity.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>In other words, Jesus is WAY cooler than Santa. This is a message that is, I think, tragically lost on many children. Let’s be honest: Christmas ain’t big enough for the both of them. Santa, the fun fictional character? Sure. Santa, the silly game of make believe? Yeah, he can join the festivities without overshadowing the Man of the Hour. But Santa, the actual real person who gives out toys made by elves? THAT Santa, being a man of considerable girth, tends to crowd Jesus out of the hearts of many kids. Yeah, Jesus is the Messiah, but Santa has TOYS. Who comes out on top in that scenario when you’re 4 years old?</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<br />
Jesus is cooler than Santa: the message is tragically lost on many children.<br />
<br />
How true it is that the allure of toys and candy can distract children from learning and understanding the most AMAZING story ever told.<br />
<br />
May we realize the struggle in the hearts of our children and work hard to teach our children that Jesus is who we are celebrating.beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-31493580772993147782013-12-04T21:30:00.001-06:002013-12-04T21:30:48.394-06:00Black Friday BlunderSo it was Thanksgiving night and we were doing what we did every year --pouring over the mountain of black Friday ads.<br />
<br />
Eight households had a representative located somewhere between the living room and the kitchen. I was at the table seriously studying the Lowes, Sears and Home Depot ad. This was to be the year I finally get a miter saw. [squeal!!!] A couple of siblings were about to make a run to Staples so I had to quickly check out that ad to see whether or not we would get internet security free after rebate --we did. I was circling the items I wanted them to pick up for me when Ty notices:<br />
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"Mom, what are you doing?"<br />
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"I'm circling the things I want to get."<br />
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"Oh! Can I do it?"<br />
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"Yeah, sure, whatever." I hardly glance up. (Yes, I feel bad about it)<br />
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I set the Staples ad down and Ty immediately picks it up. He begins circling every other laptop on the page. Now when I say circling.... well... not to be rude here, but it's not so much of a cicle and more of a... well a bad circle. <br />
<br />
It's sloppy.<br />
<br />
And this is THE ad.<br />
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The ad that 8 households have to share. You don't mess with the ad. One year people took the ads apart and left them lying all over the table or living room and then when the shopper came to gather it --at 4 in the morning, she had to scramble through the 300 pieces of shiny paper all over the house to get the marked up (circled) ad.<br />
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Needless to say she wasn't very happy.<br />
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"Ty! Don't circle all that!"<br />
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"But I want all this."<br />
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"Ty, you only mark the stuff you want to PAY for. You can't mark this cause you don't have any money."<br />
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"Yes I do, in my bank."<br />
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"Well... You shouldn't spend it, and it's not enough to buy a computer. Here, look at these ads."<br />
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I hand him Dollar General and some other ads that no one is going to use. Austin overheard the entire conversation and eagerly picked up a marker to "circle" his favorites.<br />
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A few minutes later Ty says: "Mom! Can I have this?" I look up to see him holding the Walgreens ad. "Sure" I say, then I zone out.<br />
<br />
<br />
Next day....<br />
<br />
Ty comes up to me with an envelope and a pen. "Mom, can you write our address on here?" I take the envelope and ask him why he wants his address written. "Because I want to mail this to us." He holds up a torn-out section of the Walgreens ad. It was an inflatable snowman. It was this:<br />
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<br />
I found out later he didn't tear it out, nor did he cut it out, he punched it out with a pen --this will seem sad later on in the story.<br />
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I thought it a little odd that he didn't just take the snowman picture home with him in his pocket. Maybe he just wanted to get some mail. The boy enjoys mail. Kinda sad, that he has to wait till he leaves home to get some out of town mail. So I went along with it. I sloppily write out our address, as if I don't really care. (Yes, I feel bad about that too.) <br />
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I asked Dad if we could have a stamp. He got us one. I pointed to the correct corner upon which Ty stuck the sticker. That was the last I knew of that. It was going to surprise me if he was able to stay focused long enough to get that letter into the mailbox. <br />
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Turns out he did.<br />
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Today I checked mail before picking up the kids from school. This was in it:<br />
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<br />
In pen it says: "Return on Sunday" then in marker: "Ellis at Gigi and Pop" I'm guessing this was his return address?<br />
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I set the letter on the kitchen counter and wonder a little why it was so important to Ty to mail this picture to himself.<br />
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3:00 came and it was time to pick up the school kids. We are driving home and talking about our days Ty says:<br />
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"Oh! I hope my snowman comes in the mail today!"<br />
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"It did Ty!" I respond, trying to sound excited for him. I mean, if the ad is important to him, it's important to me.<br />
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"Yaaaaaayyyyyyy!!!! I can't wait to see my snowman!!!!"<br />
<br />
hmm....<br />
<br />
I know some of you are reading this and thinking, "Becca! You are so dumb! He thinks the snowman inflatable is coming, not the ad!!!"<br />
<br />
Well, I'll have you know it was at this exact moment when I started thinking: "I'll bet he thinks the snowman inflatable is coming, not the ad."<br />
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"Ty. You KNOW that you mailed the piece of paper to our address, not the real snowman."<br />
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"No Mom, I ordered it. I told them to send it to our house. You and Dad said I could have it." (remember the scene where he held up the Walgreens ad, but I was too concerned about myself to notice what he had "circled") Yes. I feel bad about that too.<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh boy.<br />
<br />
I explain best I can the process of ordering an item from a company. I told him how you can call, go to the store or get on the internet, but you must first PAY for the item. I explained that he simply sent the paper to our address and that the snowman isn't coming. I might as well have told him "Santa doesn't care."<br />
<br />
<br />
sigh. It was sad.<br />
<br />
We got home and as we pulled into the driveway I see that a package has come. I very inconsiderately announce: "Look we have a package on the front porch!" (Yes, IFBATT) Didn't occur to me that he was still holding out hope. As soon as I pull into the garage Ty bursts out and runs to the front door.<br />
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I get Brady out then head over there as well.<br />
<br />
"Ty what is it?"<br />
<br />
A very small, disappointed voice answers me: "It's just a saw."<br />
<br />
We go into the house where his sadness was momentarily disturbed upon seeing the Christmas decorations I had spent the day putting up.<br />
<br />
This boy just loves Christmas. More than any of my other children, he loves the warmth and joy the season brings. Twice today he told me: "Mom, do you know what Christmas is really about? It's about Jesus being born!" I really don't think it's all about the things. I think it's about what the things represent to him.<br />
<br />
He walks into the kitchen, sets down his lunch box and sees the letter. After tearing it open he stares at the paper and says: <br />
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<br />
"Yep. You were right. It's just the paper."<br />
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-85361488866574033142013-10-15T23:46:00.000-05:002013-10-16T08:24:30.628-05:00RegretMerely reading the word I just typed causes me to tense. No one is without regret. Decisions made could negatively affect the rest of our lives. Sometimes it isn't till years later that we look back at a decision and wish we could change it.<br />
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Such was the case at 6:24 this evening. Tonight I remembered back to a Sunday night about 4 years ago. I was at Albertsons. Mike was home with the two big boys and a baby who would instinctively start screaming the moment I pulled out of the driveway and didn't quit until I had returned home and had him in my arms. I was at Albertsons taking advantage of a strange sale they had going on. If you bought three McCormick spices a coupon would print out at the register for three dollars off your next purchase. If you took that coupon and used it to purchase three more spices valued at or around $1 each, then you got them essentially for free. So I did. I had about 15 transactions of spices, three at a time. Besides the spices you could also purchase McCormick's food coloring package. I'm remembering now how I studied the package: "Should I stick to the classic colors? Or should I buy the package of NEON colors?" <br />
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Classic or Neon? <br />
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Classic or Neon?<br />
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Why Becca? Why did you get them? Why couldn't you have just stuck to chili powder or cumin? Or even curry for crying out loud?<br />
<br />
Regret.<br />
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And now, just like Pilate, I can't wash this off my hands.<br />
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No really. I can't wash this off my hands. I've washed them probably... (and realistically) 10 times since this happened. And I've showered --believe it! Mike's deployed AND I've showered. All is not a loss.<br />
<br />
This food coloring I bought (and I did end up purchasing some neon colors even though I only had male children at the time) was what made me shake my head this evening.<br />
<br />
In a fit of brilliance I invited three of my favorite little people over for dinner. Why? Because I love their mama and wanted her to have dinner alone with just their daddy. And because these are sweet kids and because my children love and miss seeing their playmates.<br />
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So I've got seven kids at the house. All is going well. So well that I decide to copy an idea one of my friends (a fun mom) recently did with her children. You are all familiar with the "fun mom." I knew several growing up, Wendy Wagley and Julie Robinson immediately come to mind. Those are the moms that don't just have you over to play with their kids, but actually come up with creative things to do while you are there --and usually do them with you.<br />
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My friend, Rachel, hereafter referred to as "Fun Mom," sent me these pictures a couple days ago:<br />
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<br />
Those are pancakes. The first picture displays the first initial of her first child.<br />
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The second picture is of dinosaur eggs (one's cracked) Awesome? Yes. <br />
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The third? You guessed it: brains.<br />
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Sit down Fun Mom. You're making the rest of us look bad. <br />
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When Fun Mom reads this she is going to be really upset with me for not telling the whole story. She actually wasn't feeling "fun" when she decided to do this. In fact, she decided to do this because she wasn't feeling very fun. Here are some excerpts from our text conversation that morning:<br />
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<em>"I've never been hung over... Wonder if it feels something like having a kid that doesn't sleep through the night yet... Boys are watching a show... S and I are in bed."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>"I'm hungry and nobody is there making breakfast."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>"I went and bought delicious cereal so my kids would be so excited about breakfast on the mornings I don't cook.. That's lame huh?"</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>"Here's the plan for breakfast: 3 squeeze bottles with pancake batter and different colors of food coloring We gonna make swirled and tie-dyed pancakes. (think they'll even care?) Maybe we'll do it for lunch... When I wake up --dang I've got to teach J how to push play."</em><br />
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So there's the rest of the story. Everyone stop feeling bad about yourself.<br />
<br />
I want to be like Fun Mom so tonight with my 7 children 7 and under I'm going to get out the food coloring and Krusteaz and whip up some awesome pancakes.<br />
<br />
I mix up the batter, add a few drops of green and a few drops of blue as I hum a happy little working song.<br />
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I set the food coloring on the edge of the counter and...<br />
<br />
(everyone inhale) turn my back.<br />
<br />
dum. dum. duuuummm....<br />
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There it is again: <br />
<br />
Regret.<br />
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Two sweet little children were in watching me cook and upon seeing the opportunity reached up onto the counter --anyone wonder why God gave two-year-olds arms longer than six inches? I do.<br />
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Presently I turn back around to see four very blue hands and many drops of green and blue all over the floor.<br />
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"Ahh!" I shriek. "Don't move!" My voice might have gotten a little loud, I think this because within a matter of moments 8 semi-alarmed people were standing in my kitchen.<br />
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"Stop!! Nobody come any closer!!"<br />
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"Jack! Go to the bathroom and bring me a washcloth from the top drawer. And get it wet!"<br />
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"Ty! Get me some wipes!"<br />
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"Austin get out of the kitchen!"<br />
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"Brady don't move."<br />
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Brady starts to run. I grab his hand as he unhappily collapses to the floor smearing food coloring all over the floor with his loose hand. Jack returns with a wad of soaking wet toilet paper the size of a ping pong ball. "Jack! A washcloth!" I yell. He turns to head up the stairs. "No Jack! The top drawer, the upstairs bathroom doesn't have any drawers! That must mean I want you to go to the downstairs bathroom." <br />
<br />
Ty returns with a wipe. I turn to our guest also covered in food coloring and hand her a wipe. She just stands there. "Ty, wipe off N's hands." Jack returns with a box of panty liners in his hand. "Is this it?" "No!" "This was all that was in the top drawer!" He defends himself. Both of us getting a little frustrated at this point. (I'm still wrestling Brady) "Then look in the other drawers!" He leaves again. Meanwhile, another curious child walks over to the discarded bottle of food coloring, picks it up and holds it out toward me. "No! Don't touch that!" <br />
<br />
Too late.<br />
<br />
It was all over his hands and his feet.<br />
<br />
"I was trying to pick it up for you." The poor frightened child explains.<br />
<br />
"You're right. I'm sorry. Thanks for trying to help." I quiet down my voice in order to try to minimize the panic. "Ty, get me more wipes." He returns with a stack two inches high --brilliant child. <br />
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The funny thing about food coloring is the more you wipe it, the more it smears. It's almost as if, when mixed with any type of moisture, was designed to expand and intensify. ha ha ha.<br />
<br />
I start to laugh. This is just too amazing to not laugh.<br />
<br />
I wipe and more appears. <br />
<br />
I wipe and more appears.<br />
<br />
Well, unless you wipe hands. When you wipe hands it just smears around the first couple times then you wipe 10 more times only to remove a tiny amount --just enough to convince you it will still get all over everything if you quit. <br />
<br />
I pick up Brady, turn to the sink and start rinsing his hands.<br />
<br />
Oh I forgot to mention that a few days ago Mike bought me a new dishwasher (love you babe!!). When I installed it, I did something funny with the water and now the water pressure at our kitchen sink is at about 20%. I need to look into that tomorrow.<br />
<br />
So.. I'm holding a smurf child whose arms --although long enough to reach the countertop aren't long enough to reach the trickling water. This isn't working. I put him down and use the wipes. Finally we get enough off that I'm convinced I can turn him loose without forfeiting my furniture. I direct my attention to the drips all over the floor. Each small drop required at least three wipes as the stuff spreads out as you wipe.<br />
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One of our guests, whom I haven't mentioned yet, is a normally smiley little girl who just turned a year old. She didn't like any of the dinners I fed her and I think was getting a little hungry and tired. Poor thing. She was fastened into the high chair during all of this and was getting a bit bored of her surroundings. She began to cry.<br />
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I laugh --not at her, at the situation.<br />
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No one else says a word.<br />
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Finally Jack asks me: "Mom, are you laughing or crying?"<br />
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"I'm laughing. It was hilarious to think getting out food coloring was a good idea." <br />
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I finally get all the drips wiped up. I wipe up our little girl friend then turn to her older brother who had tried to help earlier. With two feet to go we are down to three wipes. We use them all, but I'm still concerned we might have left more than just the stains on his feet. I send someone after socks for him. No problem finding those, at any given moment there are probably 6 kids socks scattered across the first level.<br />
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I unbuckle the baby, and set her on the floor with a sippy. She continues to cry. I pick her up. She stops. No problem. I'm here for you baby. I will hold you. <br />
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One-handed I flip pancakes, pour glasses of milk and serve the kids dinner. The pancakes, turn out pretty cool looking and thank goodness no one is grossed out by the fact that they are eating green pancakes. (Who's the fun mom now?)<br />
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And yes, that is Mario from "THE Mario Brothers" eating dinner with the kids. I know, I know, I should have told you, I just didn't want to be a name-dropper.<br />
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Dinner ended and the play continued. I cleaned up best I could so that when my friend got here she wouldn't be any the wiser to the nights events. I wanted her to go to bed feeling happy about getting to greet her husband at home with a clean house and no little ones to vie for her attention. Sometimes we moms are spread so thin we don't get to focus solely on anyone or anything. She told me later it was great to get to cook dinner and talk to her husband without anyone interrupting or needing anything. That made me really happy to hear.<br />
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I know it may seem like I've got enough on my plate with the deployment and all, but getting to serve someone else (although a little work) is amazingly refreshing. I was thankful for the chance to get to serve someone outside my immediate family as right now I have very few opportunities.<br />
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So, although we had a bit of a rough patch tonight, when it comes to having those sweet kids over and hopefully blessing their mom and dad, I have,<br />
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no regrets.<br />
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-66380681499124805982013-10-14T22:03:00.003-05:002013-10-15T20:57:02.579-05:00"Oh... nothin much"<br />
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I pick up Austin from his class at church Sunday night.<br />
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He looks up at me and says: "Did you have a good time mom?"<br />
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I look down, surprised by his concern for me and answer: "Yes, did you?"<br />
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Austin replies: "Yes."<br />
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"What did you do?" I probe.<br />
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"Oh... I played with puzzles and colored with God."<br />
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I'm not sure what curriculum they are doing up there but I'm a fan. beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-68601565204255750312013-10-14T22:00:00.000-05:002013-10-14T22:00:07.621-05:00Corn maze<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This year, for the first time in my life, I was to attempt a corn maze. </div>
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Yes, that statement was meant to sound dramatic. I mean really, the thought of taking four little boys --who can without a moments notice need to poop, nap or eat, into a situation where you are expected to become disoriented, lost and confused is a scary scary thing. </div>
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That's why I didn't do it alone. I called my friend, Becky, and said, "When you come up here in October, I want to go to a corn maze." "Sounds good" was her response. She's always up for anything.</div>
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We planned it for Friday. Early nap for the little ones then we packed up snacks, water, first aid gear and some extra diapers then ran up to school to grab the big boys an hour before school let out. Listen, going to a corn maze may not seem, to you, like a good excuse to miss school but if that meant we had an extra hour before nightfall to find our way out of the corn purgatory, then it was worth the hour not devoted to education. I wasn't going to risk it. </div>
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It's a good thing we got an early start, because we were lost before we ever arrived at the farm. My phone told me "we had arrived" but my eyes told me we were in the middle of nowhere next to fields of dirt and some sort of quarry. Becky called the farm. The lady who answered had a thick accent and asked: "Did you use some sorta GPS thingy?" "Yes." "Girl don't do that, it'll get ya lost."</div>
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Thank you. Thank you for noting that on your website.</div>
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She proceeded to give us directions like something you would read in a Berenstain bear book: "Just keep going. You'll come to a bridge, go over it. Then you'll see a pumpkin patch. We're right after that."</div>
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I was expecting to take a right at an oak tree or a left just past the holler log.</div>
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We continued. Eventually we came to the bridge (and yes, we went over it). As soon as we did, we look over to see a field with a barn, playground equipment, tractors, car lot flags and tons of minivans parked in rows. </div>
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"Ahh! We made it!"</div>
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I park, pack up the backpack, lock the car and take a deep breath. </div>
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"Hope we don't need a tent and a lantern" I think.</div>
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The kids happily scatter all over the playground equipment. Becky hangs on to Brady and I go to buy the tickets. </div>
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I walk up to a lady who looks like she works there and announce: "We'd like to do the corn maze." She laughs and says, "Well, you'll need to go over there" Then she points to a "yonder" field of corn. "Just git back on the road and drive around the corner." </div>
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"Ok. Thanks."</div>
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We'd just let the kids out after an hour in the car. We let them play for a bit. </div>
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And play they did:</div>
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And fight over fresh squeezed lemonade. </div>
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We got back in the car after a good 45 minutes of play and a concession stand dinner. I highly recommend the corn dog. I'm serious. Jack ordered it and it was the best corn dog I have ever tasted in my whole life. I might just drive back out there this fall solely to get anther taste of carny heaven.</div>
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Back to the car and around to the corn maze. I vigilantly kept up with the map. Turned out the maze wasn't that scary and there wasn't just one way that would lead you to the end. In fact, we took a calculated wrong turn in order to reach the cool bridge.</div>
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Brady was allowed out near the end. I think he enjoyed it, but was still a little mad about having to ride in the wagon. </div>
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If you pay for the "Corn maze and hayride" be aware that this is not it. This is the train and it is very, VERY bumpy. And be careful who you sit in front of, you never know who might think it's hilarious to throw corn at the back of your head.<br />
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This is the hayride:</div>
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And it was A-MAZE-ING. My favorite part, without question. Scratch that. The corn dog might have been my favorite part.... I'm going to put food and entertainment in separate categories. BOTH were my favorite.</div>
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We stayed over an hour longer than we had planned and enjoyed every minute. Although I have nothing from which to compare, I highly recommend Schaefer's Corn Maze. Texas people who are considering a trip up here: come in October next year and I'll bring you here.</div>
<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-48110631549357878472013-10-14T21:12:00.000-05:002013-10-14T22:32:44.895-05:00October<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Where did the time go? My first post in three months. Well, I'll tell ya. It was a hard three months. Probably hardest in my life. Hard as a result of hard circumstances (nothing more than any of you go through) and a struggle with the Lord over who was in control and who could handle it. God has been graciously (and painfully) teaching me that I will only find contentment and joy through complete surrender to His will. He's also been teaching me through my weakness that it is not my strength I should be counting on. I'm pretty sure this is one of those lessons He's taught over and over, deployment after deployment. He taught it gently, but I didn't get it. It hasn't been till this summer that He's mad it clear that we need to make some major progress in some areas. I'm thankful that He didn't quit on me. I'm thankful that He loves me (the Lord disciplines those He loves). I'm thankful He refuses to let me cling to sin but will take me through whatever is necessary in order for me to see it and see my need for Him. It's been hard. It's been a good hard. I'm not sure we're done with it. We'll see. </div>
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To update everyone, Mike is deployed, has been for a little over a month. He'll be back mid-January. The first three weeks were hard on the boys, but they are now settled into a routine. I'm working hard to make sure all of them get some individual attention. I'm also trying to find some fun things for us to do so that we feel like we are living life and not just sitting around waiting for Mike to get home. This afternoon I got a sitter and Ty and I went to Home Depot and ask if they'd give us a kit to take home and build. Ty has been wanting to build something. I have a project going on in the garage and he's been taking my scraps and trying to create. Following a good dental checkup he was led to the treasure box for a treat. He dug around for a moment then looked up at the hygienist and asked: "Do you have anything I can build?" She found him a foam airplane. Today at Home Depot a kind employee took us back to his stash of extra kits and offered Ty a Home Depot truck as well as a car with a couple of minions in it (Despicable Me 2 promo). Ty happily accepted both. Next we cashed in a free ice cream cone card at McDonalds (complements of the dentist). Then home to build. Ty told me 5 or 6 times: "I'm so excited." We sat in the garage while the other children stayed with the sitter and built a toy truck. He loved it. As I blessed our dinner of macaroni and cheese and canned fruit I thanked God for getting to go out with Ty. He interrupted me mid-sentence and insisted I thank God for "The best day ever." I did. </div>
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I've heard that a lot from Ty. "This is the best day ever." I've seen it in Austin. He got to spend a week with Gigi and Pop and Aunt Lulu and Chrissy and Joe. For a week he got to be the star of the show, not just the third kid. He came home filled to the brim, totally content, feeling completely loved. I'm so very thankful that God allows so many fun days even with Dad gone. They miss him, but God again, is proving to us that He is all we really need.</div>
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-63540535079059242882013-06-16T16:37:00.004-05:002013-06-17T07:13:09.501-05:00From the Mouths of Babes<br />
Like I said a couple posts ago, I've got a couple more people around here (all the time) now...<br />
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And, I'll be real with ya'll for a moment. <br />
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It's throwing off my groove.<br />
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This happens every time Mike gets back from deployment. <br />
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sigh...<br />
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I'm used to being the boss. I've got my schedule, my way of doing things and then next thing you know somebody who out ranks me gets transferred back home and... it's just... it's just hard.<br />
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It's hard to give up <em>my</em> way.<br />
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One moment you think you're soooo selfless. You watch the kids <em>alone</em>, for months on end. You keep the home fires burning. You patch up knees and hold the bowl while a little one throws up. <br />
<br />
As far as giving of yourself goes, you are pretty much on the same level as Mother Teresa and Angelina Jolie. The song "I Give You my All" could have been written with you in mind. Come to think of it, it probably was. <br />
<br />
Service is your thing. No one gives like you give. <br />
<br />
You think this is the end of the story until one morning you wake up, trip over a pair of size 10 sneakers and everything hits the fan. "WHY ARE THESE HERE!?!?" or maybe "CAN NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE REPLACE THE TOILET PAPER ROLL!" You're instantly in a bad mood that could potentially last for days. The most random things upset you. It's not plesant.<br />
<br />
"If Mama ain't happy, nobodies happy." And that's where we've been.<br />
<br />
That's where I've been.<br />
<br />
It's not pretty. I've been easily irritated and just plain rude. I'll say something and then think, "Why did I just say that? That was so rude."<br />
<br />
It's pathetic really.<br />
<br />
You realized just how bad it's gotten when you have a conversation with your child that goes like this:<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Setting: Dad is driving in the Ozarks and decides to switch the van into a lower gear.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
Ty: "Mom, What's a gear?"<br />
<br />
Me: "It's a... how fast the engine goes in a car, or something like that. The lower gears are better for driving in hills and when you drive slow. <em>(pause)</em> Ty, one day you will probably know more about it then I do, then you can teach me."<br />
<br />
Ty: "But Mom, you will be in heaven by then."<br />
<br />
Mike and I chuckle at how old he must think we are about the same time as Jack leans over and whispers to Ty: <br />
<br />
<br />
"Or she could be in hell."<br />
<br />
<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-86094464147218568072013-06-14T20:57:00.000-05:002013-06-17T07:12:28.227-05:00First day of school, last day of school<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
First day of school --EVER for the Ellis family</div>
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Last day of school 2013</div>
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Only 18 more to go.</div>
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beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-90471326677164317962013-06-14T20:42:00.001-05:002013-06-17T07:12:53.731-05:00Graduation!Weapons school is finally over. Mike is a Weapons officer and a member of a pretty elite fraternity. I don't know much about it except that they save lives and get to wear a cool patch in place of the American flag on their flight suits. I'm pretty sure there is a lot more to it, I'm imagining National Treasure Free Mason stuff. Anyway, I got to go out to Vegas to see him graduate. It was such a cool graduation. I've never seen anything like it. Formal attire, three course meal, huge ballroom.... We were seated at a table with three Colonels. I sat up straight. Well, I had no choice I was in a fancy dress that inhibited most movements, including slouching.<br />
<br />
Mike's mom came down for a visit. This was actually her first time to meet Brady. It was a wonderful visit. We did things like goofy golf, the zoo, the bounce house place, took a trip to toys r us for Austin to pick out his birthday present. <br />
<br />
Fun.<br />
<br />
Mema was here for Jack's end of year school party as well has his last day of school and first day of summer. We ended this season with a bang. Mike finished up 6 months of intense training, Jack finished up less intense training. A trip to Vegas (on my birthday) and then back home.<br />
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It seems the times I have the most to write about I have the least amount of time. So that was a quick recap of the last three weeks.<br />
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Here are a few WIC graduation pictures:<br />
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beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-48358615398049219382013-05-28T22:11:00.000-05:002013-05-28T22:11:47.702-05:00markers<br />
I'm busy deep cleaning the house. I don't know what you do but vacuuming the master bedroom is considered deep cleaning around here.<br />
<br />
So I'm in vacuuming my bedroom when my arms and legs start feeling funny. I'm pretty sure it's cause no one has bumped into me or pinched me, or clawed at me in at least ten minutes. I see the big boys in the living room; Jack is reading a book to Ty. The little boys were out of sight and quiet. <br />
<br />
When they are quiet and off by themselves I always think, "I wonder if they are doing something they shouldn't be." Which is hilarious that I still wonder after 6 years of parenting and a success rate of 100% on the "doing something they shouldn't be."<br />
<br />
Still I wonder when I should be walking in there armed with a box of wipes and a magic eraser.<br />
<br />
I enter the play room.<br />
<br />
The three-year-old looks up at me and says with much enthusiasm:<br />
<br />
<br />
"We got mustaches!"<br />
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I must have had a bad look on my face because his next words were:<br />
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"We not do this never again. Never again. Not tomorrow."<br />
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I haven't said anything at this point, I just walk over, take the markers from the boys hands then turn to leave the room to get wipes. <br />
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Austin starts his bargaining:<br />
<br />
"We clean this up so we not get spankings."<br />
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I'm not sure if that was a question or a declaration.<br />
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So if anyone wonders, this is why my youngest two will not know how to color when they enter Kindergarten.<br />
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This is after he already cleaned a ton off (see wipe in hand)</div>
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He thought it was pretty amazing.</div>
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The main target was the toy overhead projector --which is supposed to be used with the markers. This is just the collateral damage.<br />
<br />
He was using dry erase markers --lucky for him.<br />
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While I was wiping everything up he says: "Mom, some got on the paper." <br />
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One day he will be apologizing to his teacher for coloring on the paper. The woman is going to think I raised them under a rock...<br />
<br />
...And she'll probably be right.beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-9414441678875484212013-05-25T21:16:00.001-05:002013-05-25T21:16:33.631-05:00One woman's trash is another man's treasure<br />
Some friends of ours at church are soon leaving the states to be missionaries in Italy. This weekend they planned a fund raising garage sale. I went up into the attic and handed down some things I felt we had no use for any longer. We donated them along with some odds and ends to the event. This morning Mike, Joe and Chrissy got up early and ran up to church in an attempt to help set up the garage sale.<br />
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I stayed home and made breakfast tacos.<br />
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They return home a little while later.<br />
<br />
He walks in with a new-to-him camping backpack. He tells me what everything is used for as he shows me all the cool pockets and zippers. Then he opens up the inside and tilts the backpack toward me so I can see inside. Lying in the bottom was the hideous 12 inch Ninja turtle doll I had donated.<br />
<br />
"Is this mine?" Mike asks.<br />
<br />
"Yes."<br />
<br />
"And why was it up there?"<br />
<br />
"You never play with it anymore." I defend myself.<br />
<br />
He didn't say any more, but instead turned and spoke to the boys: "Look what I found there. Mom tried to get rid of it."<br />
<br />
Ty: "Why?" (in awe)<br />
<br />
Mike: "I don't know. I'd check your stuff if I were you."beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-14568043702535463552013-05-23T21:44:00.003-05:002013-05-26T16:37:29.188-05:0050¢ corn dogsThe minute I saw the banner displayed at Sonic I saved the date in my phone.<br />
<br />
"50¢ corn dogs May 23!"<br />
<br />
Apparently the shindig is for national get out of school day --which is a little depressing since everyone I know is still in school and will be for at least a week.<br />
<br />
Whatever, we'll take it. I'll use anything as an excuse to <strike>not make dinner</strike> have a party --I'm just that fun. (The more often I say it, the more I believe it.)<br />
<br />
BTW we ARE going to have fun this summer. I have been on pinterest looking for fun activities, we have Mike all to ourselves for the first half and we have the blazing heat PLUS 90% humidity to keep us company all through July. It's going to be awesome.<br />
<br />
"BEST SUMMER EVER!" I'm expecting to hear those words from my children at least 10 times in the next 60 days. I digress...<br />
<br />
Corn dogs.<br />
<br />
I've been talking about it all week. And no, it's not sad that this was our mid-week highlight. Deep fried corn dogs are one of God's gifts to mankind.<br />
<br />
It was to be a fun family outing.<br />
<br />
Then my friend left town which left her husband (who happens to be Mike's bff) available for man time. We quickly put that on our schedule which took him out of corn dog night. So me and the kids. No problem. We're good at this game.<br />
<br />
Brady needed a snack about 45 minutes before we left. I gave him carrots. He likes carrots. This wasn't a punishment or anything. For ten minutes he gnawed on carrots. I don't think he digested a single one --I'll let you know tomorrow. There were carrot chips all over the floor, down his shirt and in his high chair. I decided that since he intentionally dropped several on the floor I should have him pick up one or two for the sake of forming good habbits. (All my newbie parent friends make their kids do this so it seemed like something I should probably enforce.)<br />
<br />
"Brady," I say, pointing to the carrot, "put the carrot in my hand."<br />
<br />
He pretends he doesn't know what I'm asking him.<br />
<br />
I do it again.<br />
<br />
I demonstrate.<br />
<br />
I guide his hand toward the carrot. He pulls back.<br />
<br />
I ask him again. I point. I demonstrate. I gently take his hand and put the carot in it. He throws it down. I pick it up and bring it toward him. He knocks it out of my hand.<br />
<br />
I swat his leg.<br />
<br />
I ask again (yes, I tried asking nicely).<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
Austin demonstrates.<br />
<br />
We ask again.<br />
<br />
He refuses.<br />
<br />
He gets another swat.<br />
<br />
We try and try to help him obey. <br />
<br />
Jack comes over, bends down and talks sweetly to him, making the carrot picking up look fun.<br />
<br />
With all that Brady still refuses to obey.<br />
<br />
He gets madder and madder and at this point is crying pretty hard.<br />
<br />
I have him sit there in front of the carrot. <br />
<br />
"I'll let him think about it for a while" I decide.<br />
<br />
He sits in front of the carrot for at least 5 minutes.<br />
<br />
We try again to help him obey.<br />
<br />
It's a no go.<br />
<br />
"Great. I can't quit now. Then he'll win. That's worse then ignoring the problem." I think through my situation.<br />
<br />
I decide to put him in bed, while we go get our dinner.<br />
<br />
Mike says he will stay with him.<br />
<br />
All the kids get ready to go <strong>and</strong> put shoes on. This is noteworthy because this morning we took a trip to Home Depot. When we got there I realized none of the kids had shoes. We went in anyway. Hey... We live in Arkansas.<br />
<br />
On the way to the van the oldest two start bickering. I ask them to stop. I got excuses. <em>"I didn't start it." "It wasn't my fault.</em>" You know how it goes. I tell them to drop it. We drive off. Not 50 yards down the road they begin again. I stop the car, turn around and drop off the oldest two at home.<br />
<br />
Woo hoo! 50¢ corn dog night!!! Par-TAY!<br />
<br />
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight." I tell Austin.<br />
<br />
He doesn't respond other than a glassy-eyed stare. He didn't have a nap today. It's about the time of day he gets really drowsy.<br />
<br />
We arrive at Sonic.<br />
<br />
I order four corn dogs and a large cherry limeade. (Don't judge me.)<br />
<br />
Austin joins me in the front. Just me and my third-born on a little date. He's playing with the window controls, I'm trying to decide if I should kill the car or not. I do.<br />
<br />
It was quiet for a few moments. I'm really not sure what Austin and I talk about when everyone else is absent. I asked him how he liked being three. He nodded.<br />
<br />
I asked him if he liked playing in the water today. "Yes." Was his one word answer.<br />
<br />
crickets...<br />
<br />
Good talk Austin.<br />
<br />
Pretty soon the order arrives. The moment we've all been waiting for!<br />
<br />
I give the cute boy a sip of cherry limeade, hand Austin his corn dog and set him up with an awesome ketchup dipping plan. <br />
<br />
It was then he tells me in his sweet, high-pitched innocent voice:<br />
<br />
"I no like corn dogs."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-11212869199504832212013-05-11T20:05:00.000-05:002013-05-11T20:07:19.791-05:00Mother's Day 2008This mom of two toddlers was really looking forward to the day.<br />
<br />
It was going to be perfect. <br />
<br />
The previous year (on Mother's Day) I was in a new home, Mike was to follow in a week or so. I took a test that morning and learned that we were going to have another baby. It was a happy day, even though Mike wasn't there, the news was enough to make it enjoyable.<br />
<br />
But this year. This year, with two in diapers and only one sleeping through the night, I'd really earned it. It was going to be glorious. I was as excited as a teacher on Friday. <br />
<br />
Sunday morning I woke to the normal sounds of children's cries. I wait a few moments for the sirens to alert my husband that it was time to get up. <br />
<br />
I keep waiting.<br />
<br />
I nudge him and wait some more.<br />
<br />
"Mike. The baby's crying."<br />
<br />
Mike groans.<br />
<br />
I nudge him again.<br />
<br />
"what?" he asks in a sleepy voice.<br />
<br />
"The baby is crying. It's Mother's day. Go get him." And we're off to a not-so-good start.<br />
<br />
He's just sleepy, in a moment he will come to and be dashing around that kitchen whipping up something amazing for my breakfast. I sigh as I snuggle up to my pillow once again. "This is the life. Even if it's just for one day. But by golly I had this day coming."<br />
<br />
I must have dozed off again, cause I wake up in a few minutes to Mike's voice: "Um. Want me to make breakfast or something?"<br />
<br />
"Yes." was all I said. I sounded a bit annoyed. Can't remember if that was on purpose --who am I kidding, it was.<br />
<br />
He made breakfast. Eggs and toast. There wasn't any bacon. I hadn't bought any. I'm not sure where I expected him to get the ingredients for this gourmet breakfast I was envisioning. <br />
<br />
and... there was no card.<br />
<br />
I didn't speak much as I helped dress the kids for church. This wasn't what I had planned and hopefully my silence would convey that to him: "Mama's not happy."<br />
<br />
There was nothing different about this day than any other day. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All I wanted was to <em>not</em> have to be a mom for the day.</span><br />
<br />
We arrive at church after a long quiet car ride.<br />
<br />
We walk in and drop the kids off at their classes as usual. In the hallway stood my good friend Anissa. I faked a smile and told her "Hi." She started talking to me and as our conversations go, we didn't chatter on about surface things. This was her first mother's day since losing a child. Six months earlier she delivered a stillborn. <br />
<br />
She tells me about a man in our church who for the last --I don't know how many years, on Mother's Day has come to church with a handful of flowers. He would hand them out to the women who had taken care of or taught his boys to the women who served as "mothers" to his sons. He was raising 5 boys alone. His wife had passed away after a battle with cancer. He would hand out the flowers, smile and say "Happy Mother's Day" to each woman.<br />
<br />
I swallowed the lump in my throat.<br />
<br />
Anissa went on to say how that had touched her so much. It put things into perspective. She told me that on this day, she was thankful for the chance to get to be a mom. No doubt she was thinking of sweet little Lia, the daughter she didn't get to raise. <br />
<br />
<em>Wasn't the gift of a child enough? Why did I feel I should ask for more? </em><br />
<br />
Anissa twirled the carnation in her fingers as she spoke. "Walt no longer has his wife with him. Yet he honors so many mothers every year. Me, I don't want a day off. I don't want a bunch of presents. <span style="font-size: large;">Today I just want to be a good mom. <span style="font-size: small;">That's all. I just want to be a good mom.</span>"</span> <br />
<br />
I looked her in the eye, swallowed again and nodded. The conversation ended shortly, we both had places we needed to be.<br />
<br />
I walked away with a new perspective.<br />
<br />
I had been given a couple babies to raise. I wanted recognition. Anissa had been given a couple babies to raise. She wanted to do her job well.<br />
<br />
I know mother's day can be a sensitive time. There are those who couldn't have babies, or didn't. Those who lost babies or have lost grown children. This isn't about me or about you. It's about all of us.<br />
<br />
All of us have been created to do work --some sort of work.<br />
<br />
And when we do it, we need to ask ourselves: "Am I seeking recognition? Or "Do I simply want to be found faithful in the work God has set before us?"<br />
<br />
I hope I will remember that it's not about me. I work for a great boss. My goal should be the words: <br />
<br />
"Well done, my good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master."<br />
<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-41982324796593743262013-05-09T21:11:00.001-05:002013-05-09T21:11:57.657-05:00Mother's Day presentYesterday a package came. It was addressed to me. So, well, I opened it.<br />
<br />
Isn't that what everyone does when a package arrives with their name on it?<br />
<br />
The return address showed the package came from Texas, so I knew it was going to be something special and wonderful and better than anything from any other state --ever. I couldn't wait to see what it was as I didn't remember ordering anything recently. Also, Hannah's name was on the package, giving away the fact that she'd ordered it. She buys quality folks --this was (yet another) good sign.<br />
<br />
I opened the package to find a small box from James Avery. (<em>Everyone gasp</em>) I don't have grown daughters and I no longer wear a charm bracelet so it's a rare day when a package from James Avery arrives. At that moment it didn't occur to me that Mother's Day was just around the corner. In fact, I hadn't thought of it in probably 3 weeks. The last time was when I was at the hardware store buying things for this awesome homemade gift I was going to make and give my mom. It isn't finished yet. I've failed my mother yet again. (head hanging).<br />
<br />
Back to the happy part of this story. Let's see... oh yes. Me and a small package... I open the box, pick up the small cloth bag and let a beautiful chain fall into my palm.<br />
<br />
I smile.<br />
<br />
Mother day at our house is... and I'm trying to find a way to say this that doesn't look bad on Mike... well, it's rarely a big deal. In his defense, Father's Day has never been as much of an event as Mike (world's greatest dad) deserves. A couple of times I had really high expectations (think Hallmark commercial) that couldn't be met. Those were bad days. I decided that never again was I going to expect breakfast in bed at 9:00, fresh flowers, homemade cards, an immaculate house, bubble baths, quiche and a romantic comedy to finish off the day of lounging around. After I changed my "it's all about me" attitude life was waaaaaay better.<br />
<br />
One year I bought myself the movie "Enchanted" for Mother's Day. One year I bought myself some plants. I can't remember last year. This year I had decided I was finally going to get a long chain from which to wear two beautiful pieces of jewelry I had gotten years ago --but <em>never</em> worn due to not having a long chain.<br />
<br />
I tried three times this spring to make it down to Little Rock to the James Avery store where I was going to buy myself this gift (my children would want me to have it). It never worked out, there was always more immediate needs that had to be taken care of during my babysitting hours.<br />
<br />
I'd casually mentioned to my kids and Mike that my mother's day present was going to be a chain. But really, was it going to happen? Probably not.<br />
<br />
The chain in my hand was beautiful. I tried it on. The perfect length. I went upstairs to where the kids were and asked them: "Am I supposed to be getting a present in the mail?" Their eyes brightened but their lips stayed shut. Finally Jack says with a smile, "Yes, but that's all I'm going to say about that." "What's in it?" I pester. This time Ty spoke, "We can't tell you anything about it." Well this is a first. Why did they have to pick this time to finally keep a secret a secret? I tell them I can't wait till I find out what's in it. I hadn't yet decided if I was going to let on that I knew what was in the little box.<br />
<br />
Today, while walking into Target, Ty asks me what we are going to buy. I didn't want to tell him I was looking for undergarments, so I answered his question with a question. "Are you going to buy me a mother's day present here?" <br />
<br />
He laughs, "No Mom, I already got you one! Can you guess what I got you?"<br />
<br />
"Hmm... a new broom?"<br />
<br />
"Nope."<br />
<br />
"Let's see... some flowers for the garden?"<br />
<br />
"Nope."<br />
<br />
"New tires?"<br />
<br />
"No!" he answers, laughing. "I'll give you two more guesses"<br />
<br />
"umm... new shoes?"<br />
<br />
"No, one more guess."<br />
<br />
"Windshield wipers?"<br />
<br />
"Ok. One <em>more</em> guess. And it's something beautiful."<br />
<br />
"A ring!"<br />
<br />
"Nope. (pause) <em>One</em> more guess."<br />
<br />
"Earrings?"<br />
<br />
"Oooo! Very close! One more guess."<br />
<br />
This was the part when Austin says, "A necklace!"<br />
<br />
"Austin!!! You're not supposed to tell her!" (the irony) "It's a necklace..." He pauses a second then continues, "...can you forget about it now?"<br />
<br />
I laugh. <br />
<br />
"Well fine, it's a chain for your necklace." He blurts out. If it's out, it's out. He might as well be accurate.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, it's still several days away, but already feel appreciated and loved. Ty told me earlier, "Mom, I got you a present for mother's day because I love you so much." I feel it Ty. I definitely feel it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-46685656887243671012013-05-09T19:37:00.000-05:002013-05-09T19:37:54.805-05:00Words are powerful<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last night I told Austin he was tough. Jack was in the room. He hears what I told Austin and quickly speaks up: "I'm tough too."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Oh yes. You are my toughest son." My comment quickly hushes him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We went on to talk for a moment about what toughness was and that it's like when you get hurt and you don't cry for a long time, but instead just say, "Ouch. That hurt." Conversation was over, we moved on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two hours later...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jack is lying in my bed hanging out with me for a little bit. I sit up straighter in the bed and when doing so, whack him in the head with the end of my elbow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Sorry Jack.” I apologize.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
Jack's response: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“It’s ok.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
even care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you hit me on the head,
I’m so tough it doesn’t even feel like anything to me. <em>(pause while thinking)</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just feels like tiny drops of rain....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, maybe 33 drops of rain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
10 minutes later...<br />
<br />
<br />
"Mom, I'm so tough I pulled this finger apart (popped it) and put it back. It's just cause I'm so tough."<br />
<br />
"I feel like my whole body is a miracle."<br />
<br />
<br />
The next morning....<br />
<br />
"Mom, if I hadn't been born 5 days late [past my due date] I probably wouldn't be so tough.<br />
<br />
<br />
Just think if I had told him he was weak, or a baby, or a good-for-nothing. Those words would have stuck and probably stuck harder than longer than the affirming words I said. I was glad for the reminder to always guard my tongue and to speak life to my children --and everyone else.<br />
<br />
beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-88742305036742680802013-05-08T20:37:00.000-05:002013-05-08T20:37:19.382-05:00I wonder what it would be like to...Thump thump thud!<br />
<br />
The particular tone to that banging was uncommon for this home. I perked up my ears. What I heard next was Jack's voice moaning "ouch, ouch ouch!" <br />
<br />
I bounded up the stairs. The noise alone didn't sound good. The fact that it was coming from my toughest child was another concern. It must be bad for him to cry out like that.<br />
<br />
"Jack, what happened?" Jack had been upstairs taking a pre-dinner shower. The shower was over and he was standing in a dark bathroom. I flip on the light as he answers.<br />
<br />
"Well, I was up here..." he pats the counter top, then continues. "...and I was wondering what it would be like to not have any arms..." <em>This is going to be good</em>. "...and I was trying to turn the light off with, you know, my head."<br />
<br />
I turn my face to hide the grin. <br />
<br />
"My feet slipped and I fell off. I think one of my bones is crooked." <br />
<br />
So you wanted to know what it would be like to not have any arms? Why don't we just cross that bridge when we come to it.<br />
<br />
Jack seemed to understand so he took his crooked body into his room where he put on his pjs. <br />
<br />
<br />
beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-72277494899784599862013-05-05T21:36:00.000-05:002013-05-05T21:36:04.410-05:00Toad Suck Daze<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Why?</div>
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</div>
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Well because we live in Arkansas of course.</div>
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</div>
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What else would we be doing on the first weekend in May other than walking the streets of Conway while wearing frogs --I mean toads on our heads?</div>
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</div>
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Also, because Hannah came to visit. And she's a SUCKER for fairs or festivals. She's actually the reason we went out in the 40 degree weather --in the rain. I'd of called it off, but not her. She drove five hours to come see us. I'll walk around in the rain with my children till she no longer thinks it's an awesome idea.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63-Se7c_8D22_UGa7Ge0K3BviEI-n3zC1VCVVJNhRecTLK2hQJf2bDOquSicPKHfv54kwakxK3bFk3nYvtai2kCZFquRJnRD0V8ZO3LAazU767CpGnpIBkuVFgKFHOZBBi4RT3wrzwCHa/s1600/20130504_135904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63-Se7c_8D22_UGa7Ge0K3BviEI-n3zC1VCVVJNhRecTLK2hQJf2bDOquSicPKHfv54kwakxK3bFk3nYvtai2kCZFquRJnRD0V8ZO3LAazU767CpGnpIBkuVFgKFHOZBBi4RT3wrzwCHa/s400/20130504_135904.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Notice the train not twenty feet behind us? It was moving. Only in Arkansas would they plan an festival around a buzzing train line. Whatever. It's cool.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc83tezSlfsGr3t3RkNci_YgC4hqzSp6PuBi6MR5clwFPGVrwB2ruIcHxKglXcD_90NBvY6__hh2J5uAr42YTUgLMSHItbt-R1YoTdXLLha0dtuJJySJ78WBpGzCP2Um2YaGVpAHwG3Pa/s1600/20130504_135030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxc83tezSlfsGr3t3RkNci_YgC4hqzSp6PuBi6MR5clwFPGVrwB2ruIcHxKglXcD_90NBvY6__hh2J5uAr42YTUgLMSHItbt-R1YoTdXLLha0dtuJJySJ78WBpGzCP2Um2YaGVpAHwG3Pa/s400/20130504_135030.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The tall green fellow trying to strangle Hannah was not with our party. He just jumped in for the photo. Kind of creepy. We didn't linger.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QOl1k_78Jbb1B9TJjWNPPmwFnOsxWDpzzZ6hdByXp-lxtb1-xBHHJLGoLMkqHkhZv34qtIcrIwqWspvdqasyzxdR2i8MB9X_tsJBFIrr19UPJ9I3r8AYAlLurXJK9hgBRMhMAQ1EiCWR/s1600/20130504_141358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QOl1k_78Jbb1B9TJjWNPPmwFnOsxWDpzzZ6hdByXp-lxtb1-xBHHJLGoLMkqHkhZv34qtIcrIwqWspvdqasyzxdR2i8MB9X_tsJBFIrr19UPJ9I3r8AYAlLurXJK9hgBRMhMAQ1EiCWR/s400/20130504_141358.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
As you can see it stopped raining. Austin poses next to the fish tank on wheels (again, only in Arkansas). Oh and it's camo.</div>
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Jack chose the rock wall as his one ride. I was so proud of his choice. He climbed up it twice, but got stuck on this ledge. He told me tonight as we were looking at this picture, that his bravery just comes and goes. Never know which one it's going to be. I nodded and told him I understood what he was saying.</div>
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What's a festival without a fire truck to climb on?</div>
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I was equally excited about Ty and Austin's much cheaper choice of attraction. Bumper boats! How fun is that? I want to get on eBay right now and buy me for of them. Only we don't have a lake. I'm hoping maybe Phillip and Leslie will get some? (hint hint?)</div>
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Look how eagerly Austin is stepping up to the boat. I think the guy who was helping him (bless his heart for those cold feet and legs!) was afraid he was going to walk right in the pool.<br />
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This was Brady's ride. woo woo! It spun around, went backwards and forwards and even splashed a little water up every now and then. He wins for cheapest attraction.</div>
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The boys wanted to participate in the toad races. Hat's off to Conway for making this so much fun for the kids. The festival provided toads to any kids who wanted to race. Simply stand in line, put on your free awesome headgear, get your toad then wait till your heat to race. </div>
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Jack meeting "Spurs" for the first time. (It was recommended that you name your toad.) I asked him if he named it after the basketball team in San Antonio. He said, "No. I named him after the spur on the rooster's foot." Creative. I guess that's what reading <u>Hank the Cowdog</u> will do to you. </div>
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Ty named his "Speed Racer." Fitting.</div>
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See us on the front row? We sat through 4 heats in order to see the big kids race. Austin was pretty interested. Brady was dying to walk in the puddles. He was also overly tired from his missed nap.<br />
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Here we are again. The moment we've all been waiting for.</div>
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If you can zoom in on this picture, do it. It pretty much sums up the event: The announcer guy stopping at every kid, getting the child's name and his toad's name; Jack and Ty excited about the race; Austin chewing on the rope boundary; Brady throwing a fit in my arms; Me ignoring Brady while giving the other boys the "I'm proud of you" thumbs up; oh and Hannah documenting our lives. (we love her) </div>
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And they're off!</div>
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Jack's toad wasn't too excited about the race. I think he'd had quite a few races already that day. Jack was busted by this photo evidence of him throwing the toad down toward the finish line.<br />
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And is this not the most adorable picture you've ever seen? They loved the event. They loved the whole day. This must be why Hannah insists we go to festivals in blizzard-like conditions. </div>
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beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-80707362598606634242013-05-02T22:40:00.001-05:002013-05-05T20:50:03.840-05:00Brady at 15 months<br />
I know a lot of you are wondering how an innocent little baby adjusts from life inside the womb, all warm and cozy and quiet to... well...<br />
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Us.<br />
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This was taken during Brady's first week of life. I wondered then if he was already questioning God: "Why me! Why! Why here? With them? Do you have any idea how loud it is in this place? Look! That one-year-old is jumping off the edge of the couch! Get me out of here!"<br />
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After more than a year of observation, I'd like to report, regardless of Brady's first impressions of the Ellis family, he has adopted the "If you can't beat 'em join 'em" mentality.<br />
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The last month Brady has just come alive. We have gone from having a baby to a toddler.<br />
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He has 8 teeth --make that 12. Between the writing and press time we have broken in four more molars (It's been super fun around here folks).<br />
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Brady started walking right around 14 months.<br />
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He now has a big boy haircut.<br />
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He jabbers a lot, I think he does it cause he's been feeling like he wasn't pulling his weight when it comes to keeping the decibel level up.<br />
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He's started getting mad when we don't understand what he wants. The good news for him is that he can now communicate (decently) when he wants a drink of water. That's always the point in my kid's lives when I feel they are going to make it. When they don't have to rely solely on the hope that I will remember to give them a drink at some point during the day. <br />
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He can say the names of all his family. Favorite names are Daddy and Austie. Once or twice he's said, "cracker" --I think he was referring to the food.<br />
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No problem ascending and descending the stairs. He had that down months ago.<br />
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Favorite foods are fruit, cheese, tomatoes, avocado, soups, barbecue... (He loves pork barbecue. I've got to remind him he's from Texas, and make sure I never give him any sweet bbq sauce)<br />
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Finally, this child, more than any of my other kids, LOVES to climb. He loves to dig into drawers and cabinets. It's not unusual for me to see him walking around with a plastic pitcher from the kitchen or tweezers or nail clippers he's swiped from the top drawer in the bathroom. He seems to have no fear. Mike made a comment under his breath yesterday, something about me and paying for my raising. I have no idea what he's talking about.<br />
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When I found Brady he was standing on the top of the stool holding onto the canned goods shelf. He looked worried. I'm not sure if he was upset that he couldn't find his favorite vegetable or if he was scared of the height and the fact that there was no safe way down other than Mom helping him.</div>
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He offered me some of his yogurt. Well, it was actually Ty's yogurt that got left on the table. </div>
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Waste not, want not.</div>
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Practicing his flying with Mr. D</div>
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We went to Faith's (our babysitter) track meet. Everyone loved it. When Faith was done with her event she stayed with us while we watched other athletes compete.</div>
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So yes, Brady has not only survived, but has joined the ranks of fun, loud curious boys. We are enjoying him much.</div>
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beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-61540029164499338242013-05-02T21:22:00.000-05:002013-05-02T21:22:42.772-05:00YOU SHALL NOT PASS!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Austin's favorite part of our camping trip --hands down, was the waterfall. Even before this trip he's been obsessed with waterfalls. Everything is a waterfall to Austin, especially peeing Petit Jean has a pretty impressive waterfall you can hike down to or view from an observation deck. I chose the observation deck as it was handicap accessible. Austin couldn't get enough of it. On day two he asked me over and over again if we could go see the waterfall.</div>
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I promised him we will go back to see the waterfall again even though it was inconvenient at the time. (Never forget this ok Austin?) It was clear that this was important to him. As soon as we got out of the van, Austin was raring to go. I told him he could go a little ways ahead as long as he would stop when I yelled to him. I figured if he got too far away and wouldn't stop I'd just send Jack down to tackle him. Jack can catch him. He's fast.</div>
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We were super slow going down the path since Brady wanted to walk. Austin had a walking stick ($9.99 at the lodge) we bought for Ty. Whenever anyone came up to us and was about to pass us on the path, Austin held the stick, posed and gave them the bravest, most daring face he could muster. (I was afraid.) He did the same thing even before he got the stick, only he laid on the ground with his arms and legs spread wide and held them up off the ground, looking daringly into the eyes of whomever considered passing. He was as still as a statue till the hikers had all shuffled past. Reminded me of the part from Lord of the Rings where Gandolph yells "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!!" I wished Austin had seen the movie so he then could have quoted it right then.</div>
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-65830880230231106562013-04-26T23:31:00.000-05:002013-04-26T23:42:23.050-05:00Camping<br />
My husband is good about giving me breaks. While he is in training he has insisted that I hire a sitter to watch my boys at least twice a week so I get a little free time. He has also been known to give me weekends to myself. I come home refreshed, rested, in a happier mood and better able to serve my family. Mike's foresight in this area is probably the reason I am not sitting on the floor in the corner of my room rocking back and forth.<br />
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The last two or three weeks have been hard around here. I think we are all getting tired of having dad gone. Spring has arrived and with it lots of yard work. I've had to work double time to keep up with the weeds and garden in addition to the house. More work for mom means less time paying attention to the children. <br />
<br />
<em>"Go outside and play boys." </em><br />
<em>"I can't help you right now, I'm busy." </em><br />
<em>"Watch your little brother."</em><br />
<br />
How many times have I said those things in the last few weeks? Lots.<br />
<br />
The boys have gotten the leftovers. I've given them what little was left after the work was done.<br />
<br />
Maybe it was the lack of mothering that's been taking place, or maybe they were rebelling against my busyness, but whatever the cause there has been a pretty significant disregard for one another going on here.<br />
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The boys weren't doing a good job listening to instructions and didn't really care. They'd half-heartedly obey (or not) till I got so fed up that I'd yell at them and threaten them with an unpleasant consequence.<br />
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They were tired of obeying. I was tired of making them. We all went to bed, not with full content hearts but tired ones. Glad the day was finally over and we were one step closer to Mike coming home.<br />
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Not a fun existence.<br />
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Tuesday morning. 54 degrees. I put on my warm socks, pants, fleece and scarf (and was still chilly) before I went outside to my lounge chair for the first outdoor quiet time of the season. I had coffee with the Lord while my ipod blasted people singing songs of praise to Him. This is sometimes how I spend the harder days. Just sitting there with my coffee, usually I'm not in the mood to read the Bible, and often I don't want to talk to God about what's going on. I just want to sit.<br />
<br />
<em>"I'm here Lord. I know I've been lacking in patience and love with my children. I know I could be doing this better. But I'm not. And I don't feel like talking about it."</em><br />
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So I just sit.<br />
<br />
He sits with me.<br />
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My mind fires off constantly. I've trained it to handle (<em>handle</em> haha! if you read my last post) all the irons in the fire, so times of sitting still and focusing on the music are a battle for my mind. The focus takes work. It's work to relax. By definition I don't think that's possible, but by experience I'll tell you it is.<br />
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As I sit there with the Lord, among all the other things that come and go into my brain I have the thought: "We should go camping."<br />
<br />
Camping.<br />
<br />
Hahahahahha!! No really. That's a good one. I laugh at myself for coming up with something like that. I may have some crazy ideas, but this one takes the cake.<br />
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I dismiss it and move on. But the thought keeps creeping back into my head.<br />
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Camping?<br />
<br />
Well. Why? "Why Becca would you want to take 4 wild boys camping?" I ask myself. (I always ask myself questions in third person, I've found I take myself more seriously that way and usually end up with a more professional response.)<br />
<br />
Well why?<br />
<br />
I talk through my answer in my head: <br />
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Because I want to give my poor children a break from me. Except I can't give them a break from me. I have to be with them. But maybe I can be with them in a place where I will have the freedom to be more like a friend and less like an evil dictator. <br />
<br />
Because sometimes we all need a break --even little boys.<br />
<br />
Because Mike gives me retreats when I'm tired and frustrated and wanting to run away.<br />
<br />
Because boys need to be boys sometimes. They need to run and hoot and jump and tackle and do dangerous awesome things.<br />
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Because I'm tired of saying: <em>"Don't talk with your mouth full of food." "Sit up straight." "Take off your shoes AND put them away before coming in the house." "Go clean that up." "Stop being so rough."</em><br />
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Because... we need it.<br />
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As I thought about the idea throughout the day, I prayed and ask God if the camping idea was from him. "<em>If this is a bad idea, don't let me do it</em>."<br />
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I asked a few of my friends who are in the thick of kid-raising what they thought of my idea. I told them why I felt it would be beneficial. They listened and agreed that maybe I could pull it off. If I followed my plan which was to find a pre-made camp site and show up with food prepared and ready to heat and eat. Or just eat. They told me they thought it could help the boys relax and maybe we would remember how much we like each other and that we DO like to have fun.<br />
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First thing the next morning, as I sat in my chair drinking my coffee, I looked up and said: "God, I know this is asking a lot... but please help everyone obey well on this trip. Please help everyone be nice and please, let this be fun."<br />
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We needed some fun. Laughter. Smiles. Joy.<br />
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Next morning we headed out at 10 o'clock. We arrived at our camp excited and with hope already being restored.<br />
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The yurt we rented had three sets of bunk beds, came with an ice chest, gas grill and a canoe!</div>
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It was perfect.</div>
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Top bunks for everyone!</div>
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Yes, I brought the high chair --smartest move of the whole trip. It was worth the space it took up in the van.<br />
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This trip was perfect. It was just what we needed. We ran. We jumped off of big rocks. We played hide 'n seek behind trees. We flew a kite. We hiked to a waterfall. We roasted marshmallows. We found awesome sticks. We hung precariously over the railing on a pier. We canoed. We drank Shastas. We talked to the retired folks (only other people camping during the school year in the middle of the week.) We went inside a cave. We played TONS of "Go Fish". We learned how to play War and Crazy 8's. We jumped over creeks. We missed. Ok, so that was me. I missed the stepping stone while crossing the creek, but in my defense I was pushing a giant stroller and couldn't see exactly where it was. We ate so much junk food.<br />
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I wanted to be able to say, "Sure!" when the boys asked me for things, so as much as possible I did. I said "Yes" to cokes, whole candy bars that were intended for the s'mores. Yes to crackers, apples, cheese sticks, hikes, capri suns, boat rides and glow sticks and staying up late.<br />
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Austin did so well. He listened AND obeyed. whoa. He followed the rules and kept his underwear clean. The rest of the kids did well too, but Austin was the one I noticed the most improvment in.<br />
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God did help those boys be good. Sure as the sun rose that day. He blessed our trip. Just look at these photos and tell me our gracious Lord didn't have something to do with this:<br />
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We made it the whole trip and got twenty minutes from home before someone threw up. haha! Welcome back to reality! Back we are, but we've returned renewed and ready to take on whatever comes next. --which will, I'm sure be washing the carseat cover.<br />
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-21797567107183381472013-04-11T23:18:00.001-05:002013-04-11T23:30:36.897-05:00Whew.Call me butter cause I'm on a roll!<br />
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Today I went to the microwave and set the timer for thirty minutes. Except that I didn't push the timer button, I pushed the "cook time" button. It was down to 23 minutes when I walked back by. I stopped the cooking and when I did, the thing lost power. Thankfully it came back on after a little while. Whew.<br />
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A week ago I was working in a flower bed, about to break for a moment, when I thrust my pitchfork down into the soft earth beside me. Except that I forgot where I keep my feet and instead of stabbing the earth slammed the fork down onto my foot. It went through the rubber boot but only left a small cut on my skin. Initially I thought I'd broken my foot. I was relieved to find I could still walk. Whew.<br />
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Sunday I lost my phone. I looked everywhere. Except behind the pillow (the round one the boys use as a Frisbee) on the chair you would never expect could hide a phone. Monday morning I found it. Whew.<br />
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Ten o'clock yesterday morning, after dentist appointments (at which all the kids were declared cavity free. I'll take a pat on the back thank you.) I pulled into the driveway, looked out across the lawn and thought I really should do some yard work before the storm hits. The internet said it could start raining as early as noon, so I needed to hurry. In the 7 seconds it took to cruise from my mailbox to the house my mind voluntarily ran through 8 or 10 things I needed to accomplish in the next two hours. Besides that, it was time for Brady to nap. What better time to get things done.<br />
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First thing was to put the sleepy child in bed. I lay him down then jog back down the stairs. Coming down into the kitchen I look at the sink and think, "I've got to get that chicken out of the freezer. Otherwise no dinner." I stop up the sink, turn on the water and set the two packages of chicken breast down into the water. While standing at the sink, I turn and see Austin. Austin, the two-year-old underwearing little boy who has stayed dry for 4 hours. (We had a pretty major setback in our potty training after a super fun visit to the grandparents so I was proud of 4 hours.) <br />
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"Austin, let's go potty. Hurry to the bathroom." It seemed like a good idea to use the time while the sink was filling up with water to take Austin potty. Efficient. I like to be efficient. It doesn't take but a moment to pull down his drawers and lift him to the seat.<br />
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Maybe I need some medication, maybe I just need to take on less, but by the time I took 5 steps toward the bathroom, the last thing on my mind was the water running in the kitchen sink.<br />
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I got Austin fixed up then turned toward the front door and walked outside. <br />
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Outside! I love being outside. I was looking forward to getting the riding mower running (it hadn't been started in a couple months) and the battery had died. Dad told me how to jump it off with the van so that was my plan. I push it out of the garage, jump it off, let it run for... at least 5 minutes, drive around to the front where I was going to hook up the cart full of yard debris and haul it to the woods. The mower died when I got off of it (why do they make them do this???) I tried to start it back up but the battery wasn't strong enough yet. Sigh... I push the thing back over to the van, pull out the jumper cables, jump it off again. This time I left it running while I walked a few feet away to the flower bed to pull weeds while waiting. I made sure to keep myself between the running mower and the children. <br />
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A couple minutes later Ty runs out to me: "Mom! .... water.... I turned it off.... everywhere..."<br />
I couldn't really hear him cause of my bad hearing and the fact that the mower was running behind me. <br />
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"OK Ty, thanks." I say.<br />
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He stands there a second then turns around and walks off. I go back to my weeds.<br />
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Pulling weeds, pulling weeds, wow they come up so fast don't they... I think about which bed I'm going to put the mulch in, how I should plan on tackling the unwelcome monkey grass I have sprouting up everywhere... <br />
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Ty walks back up, interrupting my thoughts and says: "Mom, the water is still all over the floor and it's spreading out everywhere."<br />
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Guess what scene flashes back into my mind.<br />
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"Ah!" I gasp. "The kitchen!"<br />
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I jump up, turn off the mower (thank goodness I have some sense left), and run into the house.<br />
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Water.<br />
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I see it as soon as I open the door. Apparently the floor slopes down toward the garage. I grab towels and soak up the water running along the baseboard and into the laundry room. The next 10 minutes are kind of blurry in my memory. However, I do remember that I sprang to action. I threw down towels, dried up what I could see than began investigating where the rest of the water could be. I pull out the stove. I walk outside. I look in the laundry room and under the water heater. <br />
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Then it began to sink it. I sat on a step stool in the kitchen, rested my chin on my fist and thought: "I've ruined my house. We are going to have to find a new place to live. This water, the water that was pouring out of the sink for 15-20 minutes is somewhere, probably under the cabinets pooling, waiting to grow mold and ruin drywall." I felt myself sinking. My confidence was taking a nose dive. I was like the book "The Little Engine that Could" read backwards. I had started off with: "I thought I could" moved down to "I think I can" to "I'll never get to the good little boys and girl on the other side of the mountain." Haven't read the book? Oh nevermind then.<br />
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Not knowing what to do, I called mom. She gave me hope and calmed me down a little.<br />
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I texted 7 friends who live relatively close asking them if any had fans I could borrow to dry out my kitchen. <br />
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Immediately I got a couple responses. Two offered to bring fans over.<br />
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Corrie arrived first. I was still not sure what else to do at this point. So when she walked in I was standing there in the kitchen just looking. I told her what had happened. We talked about what to do next. She said she was sorry this happened then asked if there was anything else I needed. "A husband," I said, half-jokingly. Then the tears came. I stood there and cried while Corrie hugged me. <br />
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I felt momentarily defeated. I felt tired. I'd been working hard for three months to keep things together around here while Mike was away with the air force. Honestly I thought I'd been doing pretty well. We'd held up fine, the children seemed happy, I was content in my role and God had been giving me strength to do the work that had to be done.<br />
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Through this military wife gig I've learned that when you have something tough in front of you, you just take a deep breath and do it. People have told me, "I don't know how you do it when your husband deploys." Well, you just do it. I always respond with, you'd just do it too if you had to. I can't describe it better than putting on your game face. There's no place for weakness and failure isn't an option. You get up and do. <br />
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But then, in the midst of the deployment, there never fails to be moments like this. Moments when you feel like you've failed and the persona you put on in order to survive deflates like a balloon. So you cry --sometimes for a long time.<br />
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Then you blow your nose and you feel better. You get up and again begin to do. At least this is how it always goes for me. Maybe it's not like this for everybody. Resolve is one thing, but how far does that take you?<br />
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I think it's my Jesus that is picking me back up.<br />
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It's when I am at my weakest that He reminds me He is near. He whispers, "It's ok." He holds me while I cry. He so gently shows me He loves me. He reminds me, "I'm your strength."<br />
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He does it every time. He did it yesterday.<br />
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Yesterday He used his Church.<br />
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I got texts or phone calls from each person I messaged. Two dropped everything to come help. Three told me they were praying. Two called and asked what more I needed. One cooked my family dinner. Corrie even let me borrow her husband.<br />
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I felt loved.<br />
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That evening, as the fans blew the cabinets, I sat on the couch and with great joy in my heart, praised the Lord for his goodness to me. I thanked him for his provision. I thanked him for an understanding husband who cared more about my well being than his house I almost ruined. I thanked him for his church and what a gift it is to those who follow him. I thanked him for Ty (who discovered the water). <br />
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I did something foolish yesterday, but God (as He always does) took the opportunity to flood me with his mercy (pun intended). <br />
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Whew.<br />
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-53314486378706916352013-04-06T15:56:00.001-05:002013-04-06T15:56:38.210-05:00My new mechanic<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not sure who is prouder, Ty or me. The light bulb went out in one of the headlights on the van. Mike noticed it so today we went to an auto shop where be bought a new one. I told Ty he was going to install it. And he did. All he needed was a rubber glove and a screw driver.</div>
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Hoping I'll have a mechanic on hand VERY soon. We took the pictures to show Big Dad and Pop --thought they'd be pretty proud.</div>
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It works!</div>
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beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-59333220343018665532013-04-03T18:30:00.000-05:002013-04-03T18:30:25.674-05:00The Child's Story Bible<br />
This is another book I LOVE.<br />
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<u>The Child's Story Bible</u> has been part of our nightly reading for the last several months. It has also been part of my Sunday school lesson on most weeks. The stories are told with much accuracy and the attention to detail is what I really love about this book. Most story Bibles don't tell the whole story. They leave tons out. This one doesn't. Several times it has given me details that I couldn't remember so I look it up in my Bible. Every time the book has been Biblically accurate --which is more than I can say for myself unfortunately.<br />
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This last week we skipped ahead to the New Testament to read about Jesus' last day and then Sunday we read about the resurrection. It was so, so good. At one point I was almost in tears as this book so lovingly explained how Jesus' sacrifice was for us:<br />
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Then they stretched Jesus out upon the cross. With heavy spikes they nailed His blessed hands and feet to the wooden beams. They raised the cross and set it in the hole with stones and earth so that the cross would stand upright. Two thieves were crucified with Jesus, one on His right hand, and one on His left.</blockquote>
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When they had finished all this, the soldiers divided up Jesus' clothes among the four of them. His coat was one piece, without any seams. So they said, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be." </blockquote>
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It is very painful to you and me to see our beloved Lord hanging there on the cross, with His blood dripping down. But even though it is painful, we need to look, for He hangs there because of what we have done. His blood is being shed to pay for our sins. He loved us so much that He chose to die in our place. </blockquote>
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Even in His great suffering Jesus thought not of Himself but of others. The first words He uttered were a prayer: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."</blockquote>
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Wow. This year, the old old story seemed fresh and new to me. I read it in a book written for children. The simple language made the simple story so easy to digest: Jesus loves us.<br />
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I want to type out for you many more parts that spoke to my heart as I read this last week. I know this book is for kids, and if you have kids ages 4+, I HIGHLY recommend using this book as you disciple your children. It captivates my boys. They look forward to the stories in here as much as any other book we have read. But you know, even if you don't have kids, I think this book will speak to your heart as it has mine. So pretty much... everyone needs a copy. Besides, you'll have it on hand for the next time you get the privilege of stepping into a children's class on Sunday morning. ;-) <br />
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<u>The Child's Story Bible</u> by Catherine F. Vosbeccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-7989706802231461112013-04-02T20:46:00.002-05:002013-04-02T20:46:24.978-05:00This is war.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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The veggies are chopped and sauteing on the stove. I turn down the heat, put the lid on (as I want them to soften up a bit), and head out to pick some green onions out of the garden. </div>
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<em>(Seems like such a nice start to the story doesn't it? You can almost smell the beginnings of the Italian feast I was preparing my family for dinner.)</em> </div>
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Before I step out I hear Ty: "Mom! Can you come start my water?" I run upstairs, turn on the water for Ty's shower, then out to the garage where I slipped out of my comfy old-man-houseshoe-wanna-be shoes (love these shoes!) and into my rubber rain boots. I walk past the basil I planted day before yesterday. It's looking good. It's been raining non-stop since I planted them, so I was hoping they hadn't drowned, they hadn't. On to the other side of the house to get the onions. I harvest my onions and while I was there took a peek at the garlic planted right beside the onions. It was looking good to. Pleased I was. Back around and in through the garage with three green onions. Upon walking in I immediately notice the smell. It was the veggies. Not the aroma I'd hoped to walk into. It was more of a... well, burnt sort of smell. </div>
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Crud.</div>
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I quickly tended to the pan. We'll still eat them. I wouldn't serve them to company, mind you, but my people are used to eating "blacked" food. Especially broccoli. I specialize in blackened broccoli.</div>
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After getting the veggies under control, I begin to chop the onions. Then I look out the window. It was Austin. Austin. Out the window. In the mud. It's rained so much around here Jack told his Dad that he thought there was going to be a flood.</div>
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I'm sure he's not wearing shoes. Two-year-olds never remember to put on shoes before they go outside. Come to think of it, none of the kids around here remember to put on shoes before going outside. He needs to come in. I throw the onions in the pan, wipe off my hands, then walk around to the back door to call him in.</div>
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Oh. I was wrong. He did remember shoes.</div>
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My shoes.</div>
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My man house shoes.</div>
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My favorite shoes.</div>
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Yes, those shoes.</div>
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Muddy? Wet? <br />
Yes.<br />
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Dripping wet.</div>
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Thanks for that Austin.</div>
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I get him in, wash his feet, then back to the kitchen.</div>
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My onion has burnt.</div>
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Pasta goes in the pot.</div>
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I set the timer for the pasta (yes, looking for a little credit here). I'm about to start on the alfredo sauce when I hear a scream well, maybe more a shriek. No, probably just screaming. At first I can't figure out where it's coming from or who is doing it. It's not a normal sound anyone around here makes. Most screams are playful. This one wasn't. I think the best way I could describe it was a "scream bloody murder" scream. It was Ty. Upstairs in the shower. I sprint up there again. He's gotten soap in his eyes. I think it was only the second time in his life this has happened, so it really threw him for a loop.</div>
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I get his eyes rinsed out and dried off and wrapped in a towel. I tell him he's got to handle himself cause I'm in the middle of cooking. He comes down few minutes later. His poor eyes were all red.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8l65VW_U4yniUAp0YD7gcsxAPcm17eCcrHF768oSrEiCP0sdLEOnYTDlNY8EYnXaoD_ewZwLjK35sH6FJBF7x4w09jtgv2FPtXsDakTG705a7Ypk-HZ86Vdk55chpoFQqXOx1R-6lD3A/s1600/today3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8l65VW_U4yniUAp0YD7gcsxAPcm17eCcrHF768oSrEiCP0sdLEOnYTDlNY8EYnXaoD_ewZwLjK35sH6FJBF7x4w09jtgv2FPtXsDakTG705a7Ypk-HZ86Vdk55chpoFQqXOx1R-6lD3A/s400/today3.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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The pasta (angel hair) which only needed to cook 2 minutes is now beyond done.</div>
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As if on cue, Brady toddles up to me. He grabs my legs and cries. </div>
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"Jack!! Come get your brother!" Jack pretends not to hear.</div>
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Based on the above evidence I conclude that the children are trying to ruin dinner. Every night it's the same thing. I think they get together first thing in the morning and plan their attack on dinner. I can just hear this mornings meeting:</div>
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Jack: </div>
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"Alright, here's the plan:</div>
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Ty, you ask to get a shower as soon as you see Mom step into the kitchen. </div>
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Austin, go outside in whatever non-waterproof shoes you can find. </div>
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Ty, after Austin gets captured see what else you can do to cause a commotion. I'll send Brady in at the end and he'll cry and fuss I'm sure of it."</div>
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Why? </div>
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Why would they do this? Seems like a lot of trouble just to eat a bad dinner. Well, I'll tell you why. Three words: Pizza and Mac-and-cheese</div>
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It's not too far fetched. I'm pretty sure they'd do anything to get Mom to give up on cooking and feed them a diet strictly of carbs and cheese.</div>
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Let me tell you something boys. It ain't gonna work. If you continue to attack me when cooking dinner, I'll be forced to retaliate. No, I don't mean turn on a TV show while I cook. I mean strap you in your car seats in the living room till the food's ready.</div>
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Think I'm kidding?</div>
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Try me.</div>
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<br />beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3398381279001065248.post-73253547705606283902013-04-01T18:45:00.002-05:002013-04-01T18:45:42.363-05:00Put that on your blogI knew it would happen at some point and now it has: the kids are finally old enough to read and read well. Claire, my niece, has recently discovered my blog and Emily, my sister, said she sat for two days on the computer and read most of it. Over spring break she was talking it up to Jack. I'm not sure what she told him, but whatever it was, it made him think it was kind of fun to be the subject written about. <br />
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Any time something funny happens at the house he's been telling me to write about it.<br />
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Just the other day he ran down the stairs, stuck his head around the corner and says: "Mom! Ty and I were upstairs talking about our favorite shows and Ty just told me he liked 'Tinker Bell.' You should put that on your blog Mom." beccaellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05549670389671840886noreply@blogger.com1