Thursday, April 30, 2009

The love for the hubby

LG is finally ready to admit that we have been in counseling. And so now, you all get to hear about it. Aren't you lucky? Marriage counseling has been a great experience and we've learned a lot about ourselves and each other. We highly recommend it, and wish we would have gone 12 years ago. I don't know when or if we will ever "graduate", but hope that it will be really soon.

One day our awesome therapist mentioned the love we have for each other. I said, "Yeah, that is the reason we are here, we've got to figure this out, we love each other too much to leave." It's ironic that LG is a divorce attorney, and he himself would never get a divorce. LG and our therapist are always teasing each other about giving each other referrals. It's funny to see a marriage counselor and a divorce attorney strike up a good friendship.

Well, one of the good things about counseling has been that LG is now willing to admit that he has problems. WOW! It only took me 12 years to break him. Just kidding. We all know that my problems are just as bad, if not worse.
I thought that these pictures were appropriate to my feelings about my man lately. With a little coaching, and kissing, LG is turning into quite the prince charming. Let me tell you, counseling has been worth every dollar.

And here is a story to make you laugh. Thanks to Valerie for the e-mail forward.

A Doctor was addressing a large audience in Tampa:

"The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here, years ago. Red meat is awful. Soft drinks corrode your stomach lining. Chinese food is loaded with MSG. High fat diets can be disastrous, and none of us realizes the long-term harm caused by the germs in our drinking water. But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all and we all have, or will, eat it. Can anyone here tell me what food it is that causes the most grief and suffering for years after eating it?"
After several seconds of quiet, a 75-year-old man in the front row raised his hand, and softly said, "Wedding Cake?"

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Taco Bell Song

When I first moved to the South,

I was terrified to order fast food through a window.

They either couldn't understand me or I couldn't understand them.

No joke.

I should have tried a folk tune.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Please RSVP

After our last Purple People Eater party.

I proudly proclaimed that I was out of the party business.

(Yes, I wanted to see how many p's I could fit in a sentence)

This party planner is pooped!!!

Abigail has been driving us crazy with her psychological warfare.

She has decided to plan and plan and overplan her own party.

I think she thinks that if she writes enough ideas down

and keeps on keeping on that we will cave.

She may be right.

We told her she could only invite 3-4 friends to the movie.

She wants a Harry Potter movie birthday.

For a whole month, we have heard every idea known to JK Rowling.

And she is driving me crazy!!!! And as you will see, she is driving LG crazy too.

So, the funny part.

Yesterday, LG decided to join in the fun.

Lori and Cally and Rita,

I hope you will make sure and tell Scott, Conan and Matt to RSVP.

This will be a party they don't want to miss.

Seriously, how hilarious is my hubby?

What will be funnier?
The fact that he actually made this party plan
or when I execute it?

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Host

The Host: A Novel The Host: A Novel by Stephenie Meyer

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
I really really really enjoyed this book and amazingly my hubby did too. We love it when we both like the same book.

I wasn't a huge fan of the "Twilight" series, so this was a breath of fresh air to all the romance. This storyline was just so much more believeable to me.

It's a good book to make you grateful for what you've got and it makes you think about the beauty of just being human and living on Earth.

View all my reviews.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

I want this CD

Anyone out there wanna buy me something?
Hint hint: LG, Mother's Day is coming.
Oh, and you could get me a CD player for my van too.
Check out the songs:
Saints Bound for Heaven
My Song in the Night
We’ll Shout and Give Him Glory
His Voice As the Sound
How Bright Is the Day
Death Shall Not Destroy My Comfort
My God, My Portion and My Love
Bound for the Promised Land
I Want Jesus to Walk with Me
Old Time Religion
The Battle of Jericho
Down to the River to Pray
Rock- A My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham
Softly and Tenderly
Amazing Grace
Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Thursday, April 16, 2009

One word

This post was inspired by Scribbit's April Write-Away Contest.

There is one word that is always appropriate. This word is there no matter what the circumstance. Joy and pain. Trials and triumphs. Ups and downs. Sickness and health. Obstacles and open roads. Wonder and boredom. Love and annoyance. Hopefully more love. As unbelievable as it may sound, this one word can bring incredible comfort and total terror all in the same utterance.
The word can be whispered or belted. Shrieked or endeared. It has a version in every language known to mankind and is often the first word mastered by a developing infant. I am pretty sure that there are even distinct animal noises used for its meaning. I swear sometimes I can hear our family cat meow it out when she wants to get in or out of the house.

This one word can be enunciated with many different dialects even by the same child. It has endless amounts of pronunciations....the one syllable miraculously changes in tone, depending on the circumstance.

You hear it at the grocery store from a wandering child. The tone a little frightened but loud and strong, "Mom?!" Sometimes you go searching for a lost one, even though you know that none of yours are there. Some of yours may be lost, so, you just can't help but make sure that the one calling out is not.

What about the eulogy so powerful it brought the room to tears...."most of all, she is my mom, and always will be, and to me nothing else is more important about her."

The teenager tends to irreverence the name the most, "Just ignore her; pretend she's not my mom."

I even heard a police officer once tell a classroom full of children: "If you are ever in trouble, get safe as fast as possible. If someone is hurting you, tell a teacher, or a police officer, or find a mom with kids as fast as you can."

Perhaps the sweetest utterances of the one all powerful word are the ones from little children. They seem to use the word more than anyone. The word seems to work in all circumstances for all of their needs. Let me give you a few examples from my own experience.

"Mom, I didn't get elected for student council. Mom...." followed by incoherent sobs.

"MOM!!!! Her hair, it's tangled up in the rope swing.....Hurry mom."

"Guess what, mom?"

"Mom, I think there is chocolate in the carpet, or maybe it's poop?"

"Mom, it hurts so bad."

"Mom, are you coming on my field trip?"

"Mom, don't forget your camera."

"Mom, I need a band-aid."

"Mom, she's bugging me again."

"Mom, will you read me a story?"

"Mom, will you please stop taking pictures!?"

"Mom, I don't want to go to the hospital."

"Mom, I drew you a picture....look, the big one is you, and the little one is me."

"Mom, I had a bad dream."

"Make her stop, mom."

"Mom, I don't want to set the table."

"Mom, I'm hungry."

"Mom, I'm bored."

"Mom, I can't find my shoes."

"Mom, can we go to the movies?"

"Mom, where is my library book?"

"Mom, when is dad coming home?"

"Mom's what for dinner?"

"Mom, can you check my homework?"

"Mom, can you help me clean my room?"

"Mom, I am sick of spelling."

"No, mom, I am not tired."...followed by sobbing, slight nodding, and the sweet sound of heavy breathing.

Every utterance of the word seems to carry a different emotion and a different intonation. The whole spectrum is in there. It's as if, just by simply adding "mom", magic will be inevitable. Mom can make everything o.k. Mom can motivate. Mom can comfort. Mom can fix. Mom knows all. Mom is almost omnipotent. Mom is totally versatile, even when she doesn't budge. Mom can tell you what you need to hear, even when she is a push over.

Sometimes when the word mom is added to a sentence it completely brightens one's existence.

"Mom, you are the best mom in the whole wide world."

"Mom, you are beautiful."

"Mom, I love you."

Or one of the best ever:

"When I grow up, I want to be a mom, just like you."

There are many moments in many days when a mother cannot think of anything better to be called than simply mom. You can give her awards or accolades or certificates or trophies, but nothing outdoes this simple statement of pure admiration, "I want to be a mom", followed with, "just like you." No nickname, no term of endearment, not even a kiss from the man you love can make you feel as good as that kid that wants to be just like you. There is no higher compliment.

Of course there are times when we use the word in reference to someone other than our own. I recently heard this from a friend.

"I always wished my mom was more like yours."

It's funny because I always wanted my mom to be more like Melanie's. Man! Toast and hot chocolate never tasted so good. My mom was not a morning person, and Melanie's mom fed me breakfast almost every morning of junior high school. Why? Because she was a mom. And I had the privilege of watching her answer to every one of Melanie's "moms" while simultaneously filling my empty stomach as I waited for Melanie, my walking partner.

Now I find my kids using the psychological tactic on me, "Mom, why can't you be more like so and so's mom?" I return with the oldy but goodie: "Because her mom doesn't love her as much as I love you, that's why. No mom should let their child roam the neighborhood like that."

As a mom, there is one thing you realize more than anything: moms aren't perfect. Even if our name carries a need for perfection, all moms screw up. This mom is no different. It'll be o.k. if my daughters grow up wishing that I was different. Heck, I wish I was different too. They can admire those other moms, and they can even want to be like them when they grow up. It doesn't diminish the joy that I have in being their mom.

Some days I try to be like Melanie's mom. I especially have to remember that best tasting toast and hot chocolate every morning when I drag this non-morning mother out of bed. But, most days, I shock myself, because I find myself being a mom that frighteningly resembles my own. I am sure that I say things from time to time that my kids don't want to hear, striking them with fear. I know my mom isn't going to tell me what I want to hear most of the time, but who is it that I call when I really need advice?

"Mom, what do you think about...."

"Thanks mom, I feel so much better now."

When my children hear mom, I am sure they mostly think of me. Sometimes I am sure they will say the one word with terror.

"Mom, I spilled the whole gallon of milk again."

I know that they will also say the word with admiration. Hopefully more often than with terror.

"Mom, you are so good at cleaning."

I just pray that when they grow up, no matter whose mom they take after, they will realize that this mom is the one that loved them the most. Hopefully that one word, mom, will mostly bring them comfort. And nothing makes me feel better, except for maybe a compliment from my mom. Especially when it's:

"Oh Alice, you are such a great mom."

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

What's Your Dream

Hey everybody.
If you've got a dream, and you're kind of quirky,
and you love Les Miserables.
You've got to watch this
It made me bawl like a baby.
I know I am pregnant and all,
but seriously,
do you think this would ever happen in the United States?
I want to move to Britian....those people are so loving!!!!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Monday Morning

We had a great Easter at Grammy and Papa's.
And lookee, LG took a picture of his beloved wife.
Go figure...there's finally a photo of me at eight months pregnant.
We never got the chance to mow before we left.
Why is it that every time the weather is good we have other obligations?
It seems that the contest I invented last week
to see which daughter could pick the most dandelions was not successful enough.

I am so thrilled with the Knox County employee who chose to give us the
Monday after the holiday off of school.
There is nothing like a day to recoup after a long weekend,
especially when I drove home until 1 am, dreamt of disgruntled clients with guns all night, and took a child to the doctor at 8 am.
Today is just what I needed.
It has been just enough time for Sophia to wrap her hair up in the rope swing.
And Abigail to dress up like a cat.

Did I mention that it's a jungle out there?
And yes those are my pj pants.
And here are the dogwoods just for fun.
Because today there is reason to celebrate.

We're watching Cheaper By the Dozen
and I'm wishing for 9 more....
maybe one would learn how to mow the lawn.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Dog Gone It

I'm 30 weeks pregnant.

Spring has brought on time constraints with a vengence.

The dirt in my house is so much more evident when the sun is shining.

It's soccer season....enough said.

The children and I have a combined total of
5 doctor appointments in the next two weeks alone.

I've got 20 school commitments over the next month.

You know....field trips, programs, PTSO responsibilites, and helping teachers.

That's not even considering the regular homework, projects, and catching up on AR points.

Tonight I spent an hour in the yard just prepping it to be mowed.

It's a jungle out there.

I know I am blessed.

But really I am tired.

Life is tiring.

I just want to forever.

So, I saw this dog.

And he reminded me to roll my windows down.

And breathe some fresh air.

It's spring.

And dog gone it, I need some fresh air.

Monday, April 06, 2009

My Kind of Mom

I got an e-mail forward from my friend Trisha this morning.
I felt it really worth sharing.

There recently was a death of a 98 year-old lady named Irena.

During WWII, Irena, got permission to work in the Warsaw Ghetto, as a Plumbing/Sewer specialist. She had an ' ulterior motive ' ... She KNEW what the Nazi's plans were for the Jews, (being German.)

Irena smuggled infants out in the bottom of the tool box she carried and she carried in the back of her truck a burlap sack, (for larger kids.) She also had a dog in the back that she trained to bark when the Nazi soldiers let her in and out of the ghetto. The soldiers of course wanted nothing to do with the dog and the barking covered the kids/infants noises.

During her time of doing this, she managed to smuggle out and save 2500 kids/infants. She was caught, and the Nazi ' s broke both her legs, arms and beat her severely. Irena kept a record of the names of all the kids she smuggled out and kept them in a glass jar, buried under a tree in her back yard.

After the war, she tried to locate any parents tha t may have survived it and reunited the family. Most of course had been gassed. Those kids she helped got placed into foster family homes or adopted.

Last year Irena was up for the Nobel Peace Prize ... She was not selected.

* Al Gore won, for a slide show on Global Warming.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Forgetting the Roadkill

Just a few weeks ago as part of our Spring Break activities, we went, as a family, to one of our favorite places, Bays Mountain Park. As we searched out our favorite animals, we stumbled upon an elderly naturalist volunteer as she gently balanced a black vulture upon her forearm. It was the most intriguing fowl. It was big. It was black. It was a vulture. It eats roadkill. It is not the kind of bird that is beloved or even admired. Yet, I was fascinated; for some reason I saw beauty. I saw the majesty of an eagle in this bird. I wanted to hear all about it.

As the natulralist spoke of the vulture with such endearing admiration, it got me thinking about the conversation I had just had with my therapist. He told me that as I understood myself better I would change my outlook of myself. I would learn to love myself and stop my destructive inner conversation. Well, gee, if this bird could be loved by me, why in the world could I not love me? I thought, "I don't appreciate myself, and I don't even eat roadkill!"

As I looked at this vulture, I knew my therapist was right. It wasn't easy to realize that deep down I don't have enough self regard, but it was true, and I could work to change it. But, how?

This has been the theme in my life lately. How does one change their thought patterns? How do you change the future without changing the past? How do you love a big black bird when all he does is eat roadkill?

I guess the secret lies in the roadkill. The vulture has a useless reputation because he eats roadkill. In fact when people think of vultures, they rarely think of anything besides one sitting up on a wire waiting for its next dead feast. They don't think that a vulture is made so unique and strong that it can withstand whatever disease it may eat. Everything about a vulture seems to be designed to assist in his one big up the dead in nature. A vulture is uniquely useful, not useless.

This vulture held powerful wisdom for me. What if I quit thinking about my own roadkill and started thinking about my personal majesty? What if I start realizing that God prepared me very specifically? Just as he had designed the vulture, he had designed me. He may not have given me the most majestically known shell, but he designed me to be useful and he designed me to survive. He masterminded me uniquely to not just deal with life, but to soar above the roadkill.

Well, if I start to see those good qualities, those blessings, those unique abilities, then maybe the roadkill could be diminished, or at the least, shrunk back down to its view from the sky. The vulture in me could be admired and endeared. I wouldn't have to change from a vulture to an eagle. I could just be amazing because I was a vulture. And if no one else saw me for who I naturalist would. My maker designed me. And when he loves me, and appreciates me, and is amazed when I just perform up to design, how could I not love me?

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Time and Perspective

My last post was about Duane working at the same place for 40 years.

Now I just read a news story about a time frame of 2 years. It was extremely disturbing. I was going to post this tomorrow, but it is so disturbing, I thought it would make for a good April's Fools Day....EXCEPT it's NOT a joke!

Two mothers in Russia, were forced by the courts to re-swap their 2 year old sons. They had been sent home with the wrong mothers at birth.

"Both sons are having a hard time adjusting to their new homes", are the words at the end of the report.

Yeah, duh?

This story reminds me of the mothers in the Bible who came to King Solomon with one dead child. You know the "real mother". The one who said to let the other "selfish lady" keep the child because she couldn't bare for Solomon to cut it in half.

I like to think I would be the mom who would give the other lady her son back, and tell her to keep mine too. It would break my heart to take a child away from the only mother he has ever known. And then I would pray like heck that some sane judge out there would be as wise as Solomon and let me keep the child that I thought was mine.

Can you imagine giving a child up after two years? I don't care what the DNA tests say. Giving mine up (the one that looked like me or not) would be seriously life permanent residence in a mental institution altering.

At the top....that's Bella at not quite two. Man she was so cute!!!!

Thank goodness no one mixed her up at the hospital. If she didn't look so much like me, I would almost worry now.

Two minutes is all it takes to change a mother's perspective....well, I guess not all mothers' perspectives.

Is it just me or is the mom that pursued her mixed up child crazy????

40 years

I promised Faye that I would post this last Fall, but I only started.
Duane celebrated his 40th year working for Eastman.
They threw him a little reception.
It was lovely. And the girls loved missing school.
They made us all feel like heroes for supporting the company for so long.
Really they have been the ones supporting us.
Our two liters of pop can only do the company so much good, especially considering that we don't use their cigarette filters and the Kodak 35 mm film went out of style a long time ago.
Thank you to Eastman and thanks to Duane for supporting us in living our dream.
Even if ours is starting out a little too late to last 40 years.
(I don't know maybe LG could work until he's 73!!!!)
As the inevitable layoffs are lurking, we will hope for the best.
40 years.....Man, I don't even think I will make it to any 40 year anniversary.
Being only 35, I can't even imagine the length of 40 years.
40 years of engineering is something to be proud of.
And we are proud of Duane, but mostly because he is a wonderful man.
Not to mention the best dad and granddad.
Here's to 40 more....well, maybe not 40.