Emily in Epworth

Emily went on a three day trip with her confirmation class to Epworth by the Sea (St. Simons Island) this weekend. She came home last night and other than being exhausted, I could tell she was very much touched by what she experienced.
When I decided to join the Methodist church, Tucker and I spent a long time discussing how we should proceed as a family. He is still very happy with Catholicism and together, we had to decide where our children's home church would be. After much discussion, we came to the mutual conclusion that right now the Methodist church where I attend has better programming for the kids than the Catholic church does. Emily, who had not had positive religious education experiences in the past was very wary to be put into a whole new situation. I prayed that she would find a welcoming and loving place where she could learn about Jesus as I had.
As it turns out, the Youth Pastor, and consequently Emily's Sunday School teacher is an old high school buddy of Tucker's. That was just another sign to us that she would be taken care of. In the past months, Emily has opened up a lot about what she has learned about Jesus and being a better Christian. She has developed a strong admiration for her Youth Pastor as well as her fellow confirmands. This whole experience for her has been nothing but completely positive.
I knew she was in good hands when she left on Friday, but I was still nervous to let her go. She called me each night that she was gone and I could tell she was having a great time. Last night when she got home, she showed me the zillion of pictures she took and talked non stop for about three hours until she finally completely crashed. Other than the typical silly 12 year old antics that were inevitable to happen, she really grew closer to the Lord. I am so proud of her and so thankful she had this opportunity.
One of the hardest things about being a mom is that you never get a report card. We never have those quarterly evaluations where we get called into some big office where we are told how we are doing in our jobs as mothers. Sometimes the only thing we can do is pray that we are making the right decisions as far as are kids are concerned. Listening to Em talk about how her heart had grown in Christ this weekend felt tantamount to a big thumbs up from the Boss. It is so nice to have this confirmation (with no pun intended) that we made the right choice for her.

Baby Big Boy

"Bubby" has turned 6 and represents everything Patch wants to be; except potty trained, that is.
I have been called the "Potty Training Nazi" in some circles. I wear the honor proudly. My first three babies potty trained effortlessly and I also have helped dozens upon dozens of my little friends master this feat. Then came Patchy. As I have mentioned before, everything I ever thought I knew about anything flew out the window when he was born.
He goes potty; if he wants to. He is perfectly content to hang onto his little baby status as long as he possibly can. His two big sisters do everything they possibly can do to reaffirm his baby-ness to him. It seems they are all in favor to keep him little forever as well. But less face it folks, he will be a whole lot less cute at six years old, when he has to leave the soccer field so that his mommy can change his diaper.
So, I have resulted in the time honored tradition of bribery. I'm not proud. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. The deal is, when he is "fully potty-trained," that is completely trustworthy in underwear, then we will go to the store and he can pick out a Nerf Gun. The kid who won't use the bathroom is being bribed with a gun. Seems a little like a serial killer in the making, huh?
Bubby has a Nerf Gun and Patch thinks it is the coolest thing in the world. We are hoping he makes the connection between Bubby being a big boy who goes potty and the fact that Bubby has the much coveted toy. We'll see. He's making progress. Slowly- but progress is progress.

Obama: Love him or Hate him, Just have Half a Brain

Where's my soap box? I think I'm gonna need it again...ahh here it is, thank you.
I know the world is full of people with very differring opinions. That is super cool. Without these different points of view we would never learn anything new. My mom used to always say that chocolate and vanilla make the world go 'round. We are SUPPOSE to feel differently about things, right?
Here's my problem. Have your own point of view, but don't support your opinion with incorrect information used only to flame the fires of dissent. Recently I was facebooking, (yes it has now become a verb in my book) and I came across someone's rant towards President Obama. These are not uncommon in my part of the country, and although I do not share in the opinion, everyone is entitled to feel how they do. The rant was based on the minimal pay raise that was given to the military this year. I sympathize greatly with this frustration as my hard-working husband has actually endured a pay CUT this year. The economy sucks and it is hitting everyone. But she furthered her rant on Obama by saying he had never been to the front lines to see what our service men and women do. GONG! That's where she lost me. He totally has been to the front lines. I remember watching the coverage. So this initially well intentioned argument lost all credibility when she tried to boost it with untruths. (or as I like to refer to them as LIES)
Whatever. Be frustrated with our president if you don't like the job he's doing. We are Americans and have the enviable honor of being able to freely speak our mind. Just do yourself a favor and make an intelligent argument. Barack Obama is Muslim. (no he's not) Barack Obama isn't a US citizen. (yes he is) Barack Obama hates white people. (dude, really?) Disagree with his policies. Disagree with the way he is handling the economy or the wars in the Middle East, but PLEASE don't add to the already unendless static noise of people who do not know what they are talking about.

When I Grow Up...I Don't Want to be a Grown -Up

At 33 years old, I do not feel like I have figured out what I want to do when I grow up. I have been teaching early childhood classes at one place or another since college, but that was a pure accident and never want I intended to do with my life. I enjoy my job most days, but I do not believe it is where I belong for the long haul.
Then there is my new found talent in the cookie business. Again, I stumbled into it, and although it is fun, I don't think I could ever support myself let alone a family baking.
Over the years I have had thoughts of becoming a nurse, but the thought of going back to school terrifies me. Tucker and I used to dream of opening a small cafe specializing in fine foods, but you know, there is the lack of start up capital not to mention fear of losing financial stability. So on I dream and wonder and think...What am I going to do when I grow up?
I know I shouldn't let fear prevent me from going after something, but I really am not even sure what I WANT to do with my life. The goal of my lifetime has been achieved in the birth of my children, but there will come a time when they will fill up fewer hours in my day, and it will be up to me to decide where to go next.
These thoughts bother me a great deal. The uncertainty makes me feel unsettled and anxious. At times, I push them far to the back of my mind and decide that maybe I just won't be a grown-up.
I guess this is where I need to let God take control. He has taken care of me thus far, so there is no reason to believe I'll be let down. It is a hard thing to do to just ride the waves of life to see where they will take you, but I know under his orchestration, experiences and opportunities that I could have never dreamed up will come to me.
Right now I still have a baby at home. I intend to give him the same access to me that the others had. When the time comes for me to find a new path I'll just have to keep my eyes on the light that God is shining down pointing me in the right direction.

Tinkle...uhh, no thanks...I'm good...

I have never fancied myself a "dog person." I grew up with cats and I really relate to their laid back lifestyles. Tucker on the other hand always had a houseful of dogs running around. People are generally one or the other; cat people or dog people- so I thought.
Before Godiva died, I was convinced that when she and Arthur went to the great Puppy Heaven in the Sky, I would NEVER have dogs again. I loved them but they were high-strung, high-energy smelly creatures. I was looking forward to the peaceful relaxing life of kitty calmness.
When Godiva died so suddenly everything in my heart changed. It wasn't any longer about the chaos, it was about the loss of a friend- for my children, for Arthur AND for me. Suddenly, I went into overdrive to protect the dog we had left. Arthur got brushed every night, began wearing cute sweaters, and was constantly in my lap. His depression over the loss of Godiva was so obvious and disheartening. He no longer wanted to play or eat. Arthur was dying before my eyes. He could not go on without his best friend. My heart was breaking.
I began to question whether Arthur needed a new friend to help ease his pain. Tucker, who is the consummate dog lover, assured me Arthur would be fine, and in time he would recover from the shock of Diva's loss. Time went on and his depression only seemed to intensify, until one day my father in law brought his brand new puppy over for a visit. Arthur perked up and immediately began to "mother" the new baby. I'm sure at that time Tucker knew he had lost the new dog battle with me, but I continued to play the "let's wait and see game."
I began researching on-line various pet rescues in the area. I looked quite extensively at the local Humane Society's page. I knew I wanted another small dog for Arthur, but the only one I really saw was a funny looking white scruffy thing with dark black circles for eyes. Her name was "Tinkle." Not a good omen for house breaking. I emailed the office of the Humane Society asking to be on the look out for a compatible friend for Arthur and decided to back off. The next day I got a call from a woman at the office saying she had quite possibly a very good match for my boy; a little white poodle named...wait for it, wait for it...TINKLE!! Oye vey!
Despite my misgivings over "Tinkle" I decided to bring in Arthur for a visit to see if Tinkle, or hopefully another dog would be a good match for him.
Arthur was so nervous. By now he had gotten quite skinny and feeble looking. The barks of the other dogs scared him so I ended up holding him. We were put in a room where we could spend some quiet time with "Tinkle." That crazy dog, who was probably part poodle but a whole lot of who knows what, was shaved almost completely bare, had a hairless curly rat tail, and kept peeing on the floor in front of us. The lady at the shelter explained that when she was found, her hair was so badly matted and overgrown that they had to shave her all the way down. She assured me that in time Tinkle would be beautiful. "Ummmm, yah, ok...whatever. Let's look at some other dogs."
So we walked around and saw some beautiful animals. I was shocked that THESE were shelter animals. They were the kind of animals people pay top dollar for. But I kept having a nagging pull back to that ratty little Tinkle. Damn you, conscience! I watched as she watched out her little window at us. Scratching the glass as if to say, "hey, where are you going? What about me?" uggh. Catholic guilt. It doesn't matter that I left the church, I kept the guilt.
We filled out the paperwork to adopt Tinkle. Consequently, I was told her name had only been Tinkle for the week and half since she had been in the shelter so I was free to change it if I would like. Well, that was certainly something.
I paid an enormous adoption fee, which eventually caused me to be overdrawn. *The first time in my adult life I have bounced a check and it was for TINKLE!!* What the hell!
Fast forward two months. "Lida Rose" (I always wanted a daughter by that name) is so amazing. She and Arthur have healed each other's heartaches. She has brought a wonderful energy into our lives. Her transition has been seamless. And yes, she has grown hair on her naked little rat tail, and no, she does not "tinkle" in the house.
So I guess I am a dog person after all, but I am also a cat person. I am so blessed to have these furry angels in my life. I really believe God or perhaps Godiva, (possibly both) had a hand/paw in placing Lida in our lives. Really, all bets were against her yet here she is. It sure is crazy how little control we have in our own lives!

Snowy Blessings

I am such a homebody. I could be perfectly happy to stay in my cozy, little world for the rest of my days without ever venturing beyond the outer limits. But with the entirety of my family being outside of my immediate area, travel is necessary from time to time. Because the school system is so graciously furloughing my husbands work days, we had a block of days off in mid-February that we used to travel to North Carolina to see my family. (Well, really my nieces, but the rest of the family too!)
Imagine our surprised when we were blessed with a beautiful snow fall!! Not only did the kids get to enjoy rarely seen snow, but they were able to do so in the company of their cousins!! The 6 kids looked out the window Friday night as the snow fell, anxiously waiting for their time in the white stuff. When the morning finally came around my sister, Beth, had to scrounge around the house for enough boots, mittens and the like for all of the children. (as well as her ill-prepared sister!!)
Together the six kids made snow angels, and ran around in a flurry of activity. In quieter moments they all sampled the deliciousness of the cold treat.
Snow for a child, in any circumstance, is such a blessing and whirlwind of excitement, but for "the cousins" it was made doubly so, because they were able to enjoy it together. It really went along way to remove the sting of traveling for me!

Identity Crisis

Apparently Jenny is having a bit of an identity crisis and thinks she's a chicken. I'm just sayin'...