You had a bad day (haven't we all).

Shhhh!
Hear him?
Listen more closely...

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around

Why, thank you, Daniel Powter.
Because okay, yes. Yes, some of us have had a bad day.
Just little stuff, ya know? Nothing to set the pants aflame. Just those little moments that bring an element of challenge to any one of us as we go about the details of our day.

Take hubs, for example. Yesterday we were busy taking care of small errands and details that need to be completed in the next few days. The tone in our home was light. Everyone was having a pretty darn good day. Then, heard from the upstairs hallway, "Uh Tone, we have a problem."

You know how you just know? I knew. Water. Some sort of water problem. Because upstairs' have toilets, sinks, tubs, air condensor thingies, and kids. Need Isay more? Yeah, swell.

Well, it was the air condensor thingy. We called our thingy serviceman (it was about 10pm at night) and he assured us that we were in no immediate danger of flooding (never mind the full drip pan of water, and the water that continued to pour out of the air condensor thingy). He also said he couldn't send a guy out that night so "just hit the pvc pipe and that usually unclogs the line."
Swell.
Jis' whack'er reaaal good.
Now there's a prevention plan to avoid thousands of dollars in water damage. I am thankful to say that we have not yet flooded (because apparently, banging on pvc pipe is a viable action to take when one's condensor thingy is leaking). The guy will be here tomorrow. Thank goodness.

Then there was my little faux pas discovered today. It involves a trip to the grocery store Sunday night and an overlooked bag discovered in the van today. We don't buy meat, but we do buy Smart Ground, a soy based crumble that can be used in place of meat in recipes. It's a bit pricey. And naturally, it has to be refrigerated.
So much for that purchase.
Bye bye, Smart Ground.
(Sing it, Daniel Powter).

Reece's bad "day" has actually been a string of days lately. He has a loose front tooth that has been dangling for quite some time now. He looks like Nanny McFee's grandson, yet won't let his dad touch the tooth. No hurry though, I suppose, since that dang fairy has forgotten twice in the past few days to deliver the requisite coins to Cierah for completing her rendition of Nanny Mc-C McFee as well. We smoothed that one over for Cierah though, explaining the difficult job the fairy has, what with being grounded in heavy storms and all (of which we've had several recently.)

And Brandon has definitely had a recent bad day. Or two. Yesterday, I heard him crying from the upstairs (our playroom is located there). I went to see what had happened. Apparently during his workout, he was physically injured. I know I've been injured a time or two while working out so I was completely sympathetic.

What?

Yes, that's correct. Brandon is only three years old. But according to him, he and Reece were "working out" and Brandon got "huwt." No more P90X commercials as substitutes for phys ed. around here.

That wasn't Brandon's only bad day either. He started 3 year old teeball last Saturday. They were only 10 minutes into practice when a screaming match could be heard on the field.
"I'm fwee years old."
NO! I'm fwee years old."
Yes, Brandon and another little sweetie were attempting to own three.
I did my best to assure him there was, is, and always will be enough of three to go around.
I'm not so sure he bought it.
("Yes, I know, but I'm still only just fwee.")
I thought I heard him humming Daniel Powter's song just about then.

And Cierah, she had a recent bad day too. We tried a Mongolian stir-fry restaurant on the north side of town (I looooooove Mongolian stir-fry for the record). If you've never done Mongolian stir-fry, you select all your ingredients in the raw state, pile them in you bowl, then add your favorite asian sauces and marinades. The khans then cook your dish on a hot grill and away you go to savor the goodness.

So, Cierah had eaten her first plate of food and decided to go back for just a salad.
After gathering her favorite toppings and dressing, she returned to our table and began to eat. I was chatting with her about something when all of a sudden her eyes widened and she exlaimed with a bit of panic, "Uh oh! I forgot to have him cook it first."

I sooo wanted to giggle out loud, but my dear daughter seriously didn't get it. So, calmly I said, "Honey, you're only eating salad. It doesn't need cooking first." You 70's and 80's tv viewers like myself, think Chrissie Snow on Three's Company. Cierah let out a giggle as she realized the hilarity of the moment. That would have been one wilted salad had she stir fried it.

It seems Olivia's the only one whose week has gone fairly status quo. I'm thinking we all need to hum Daniel Powter's song while she belts out the lyrics for us. But then, if the windows are open, I fear the neighbors might feel compelled to board the "had a bad day" bandwagon (let's just say my family is a tad bit weak in the area of musical giftedness, uh hem.)

Hope your week is going a little better. In all seriousness, I see the humor in those moments and grately appreciate that I do. I recieve the ability to see humor in ordinary moments as a gift. And I fully stand on the promises of God and deeply appreciate the perspective that scripture brings to my daily life. So we had a bad day. It'll get better. They usually do.

Matthew 11:28-30
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Toni

"FORE!"

Ahhhh, the "lazy days of summer."
Presumably, a time of rest, relaxation, juicy slices of watermelon and cold glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade. But it's proving to be less lazy and more busy around here lately (courtesy of an overzealous mom who maybe,...might...could have registered her kids a bit on the hairy side of a summer schedule, kwim?)

For starters, we've been dealing with a good month of torrential rains (the local dam broke two days ago, for example). Oh, and blazing hot days of mega humidity too. So very humid, in fact, that I might as well have been living in Miami, FL. We've done our best to keep up our family walks in the stagnant humid air, but it hasn't been without consequence.

The other night, for example, Carl asked if my hands felt swollen as we trudged along the walking path. I confirmed that indeed they did feel uncomfortable. Carl lifted his hands chest high then rotated them to reveal his palms, which amazed and shocked us both. They looked more like a lion's paws. I quickly checked mine and discovered the same. Carl immediately laughed at our disfigurement and declared that we had "Mickey Mouse hands." Indeed, we did.


The thing is, I really do prefer the heat. It's just that I'm not used to the dog days of summer arriving in June, instead of August like they did back home in northern Ohio. Fortunately for the kids' sake, they had swimming lessons every day this past week and will continue next week too. I know they're enjoying the chance to cool off, even if it is an indoor pool.

But we've also had to face the outdoor heat daily this past week, as Reece had golf camp each evening for 90 minutes. As Jack Nicklaus used to say, "It was hotter than a cast iron commode in middle of the Sahara." (Actually, I'm not 100% sure it was he who said it, but if he didn't, he should have, if only for the kiddie golfers' sakes.)

In spite of the blazing sun and waterlogged heat, I knew the kids were in for some major fun the moment Reece checked in for his first day of camp. It was run by three young coaches from Skyhawk camps, and their enthusiasm and organization immediately impressed me.

But then came the names.
"My name is Coach Fergie. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Fergie'?"
("Hi, Coach Fergie.)
"And my name is Coach Hollywood. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Hollywood'?"
("Coach Hollywood?"...giggle, giggle...."Is that your real name?")
"And my name is Coach Juicebox. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Juicbox'?"

Apparently not.

At least not until the fits of giggles and laughter subsided in the 20 junior campers that ranged in age from 4 to 9 years.
Seriously, could you have said, "Hi, Coach Juicbox," without a giggle?
Me either.

Reece was soooo excited about this camp. He had been asking me to sign him up for golf for several years and I couldn't find anything suitable for him. He has some developmental challenges that impact his concentration and coordination. So I wasn't sure golf would be a good idea. But it has turned out to be a great idea, at least where this particular camp was concerned. The kids played with oversized training clubs, and balls that were basically tennis balls. But instruction was not compromised by the training equipment. In fact, it enhanced it as they worked on chipping, driving, and putting.

And he had a blast. When he wasn't Ferdinand, that is.

Take today, for instance. He was just about to drive when he suddenly dropped his club and wandered away in a most care-free manner, a lighthearted expression of content on his sweet face, as he gently exclaimed , "Awwww, dragonfly."
Sigh. My little Ferdinand.

Of course, there were the moments that weren't so magical. Like yesterday when the kids were taking a water break. They had been instructed earlier in the week to leave the equipment alone when it wasn't their turn to practice a skill with their instructor (Coach Juicebox in our case.) I was resting in my lawnchair in the shade, devouring my copy of A Charlotte Mason Companion , when I heard Reece's voice sounding much more devious, like Scut Farkus in A Christmas Story.
He was issuing a self-challenge for his captivated peewee audience of three.
His words? "This ball," (dramatic pause) "in that hole."
After which he immediately hurled his tennis ball oversized golf ball toward the basketball hoop.
My Ferdinand. Officially on the coach's list (yes, that list, uh hem).

I believe Reece scored discolored marks on her "list" too when he took a swing at his ball time and time again, only to miss and immediately exclaim, "That didn't count."
Oh sure, she was gracious and let him take a mulligan and a do-over.
But after the 36th time (or so, I lost count), I think it might have wore on her a bit, what with her declaring, "I'll let you take this last do-over but after that, every swing counts, kapeesh?"

In spite of the little aforementioned quirks that set his golf camp experience slightly askew, Reece was definitely 100% thrilled to be there. In fact, he insisted on wearing his white sports glove every single day. The only kid who wore one. He forgot it in the van this evening and vehemently insisted I retrieve it for him. As I looked at him sporting that glove, I couldn't help but picture Ted Knight in Caddyshack. Nor get the Kenny Loggins song, "I'm Alright," out of my head.


Reece might never become a Jack Nicklaus. Heck, he might not even become a local caddy. But he has now lived one of his childhood dreams of going to golf camp. His dad and I sat there evening after evening and encouraged his efforts, cheering him on and rejoicing with him when he beamed with pride. Don't you think there's great truth in the saying, "The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.”
(Don Williams, Jr.,American Novelist and Poet, b.1968)
What a blessing it has been to see Reece enjoying this small "twist and turn" on his life's journey.
Life is filled with so many such blessings.
Glass half full.
Eyes wide open so you don't miss them, ya hear? ;)

John 1:16 From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.

Toni

Change is in the Midst

In the midst of this season. My blog is based on it. My thoughts dwell on it. My spirit has learned to rejoice in it. To live and BE in the midst of this season. The very season God has placed me in like at no other time in my life. But being a very (VERY!) nostalgic person, I'm prone to wandering into the past, to places of comfort and places of simplicity. And in many ways, I find great blessing in my ability to "time travel" to those wonderful places of the past so easily.

But because I'm so nostalgic, it takes me greater effort to simply be in the midst of this season. I purpose to work at it and God rewards that effort by revealing the many blessings found in the present, even in the midst of great challenge or change.

And things are changing again. It's coming in like the anticipated (but always surprising) first crisp night that subtly sneaks in while summer is still dancing its care-free waltz of lazy days and swimming pools. That crisp night wraps its chill around bare summer arms and you have no other choice but to embrace the reality that change is on the horizon.

And so it comes. It comes in having recently taken down the crib. The crib that welcomed home the baby we weren't sure we'd ever bring home. The crib that welcomed five babies in fact, four whom God chose to permanently graft onto our family tree, one whom we loved and released because we had no choice (and yet there, in the midst of that season, God sent peace to our hearts and assured us that He can always go where we sometimes cannot.)

Change comes too as our oldest heads toward her 11th birthday this year. To put it in contemporary language, our first tween-ager. Didn't see that coming, even though we've had almost eleven years to prepare our hearts for it. But like the crisp breeze that rides in on the end of a summer night, it came just the same.

And change now comes as our youngest,who literally blew in on a breeze when we weren't expecting change at all, is now 3 years old and no longer wanting to ride in the stroller when we take our 2 mile walks in the park. I don't know how his little muscles handle it without becoming tender and sore, but he pedals for all he's worth, TWO MILES mind you, on his Big Wheel.

Last night, as we took a later than usual walk at the park, and as we were nearing the half way point, dh looked up in the sky and said, "Oh no!" The path had been winding through the woods along a river and several ponds, so we had limited view of the sky along the way. As we reached the clearing, dh caught an unobstructed view of the sky, which had grown threatening and very dark (speaking of change!)

We picked up the pace and Brandon pedalled faster. The kids rode their scooters with greater intent. And I told dh it was likely he'd soon be carrying a Big Wheel through driving rain while I carried a scared and crying Brandon (he's not a big fan of storms.) The wind suddenly shifted and intensified as a cold front pressed in, immediately dropping the temperature by what felt like a good 10 degrees. Lightning began in the distance. Thunder too. And debri and dust rose in circles around us, stinging our eyes and causing us to squint intermittently as we continued on.

I walked and waited, walked and waited, knowing that at any time Brandon was going to become frightened and need me to carry him, to comfort him. But (sigh) change is coming once again. Because he never did cry. Never once. In fact, he pedalled happily along, enjoying the coolness of the wind and giggling at having to ride through the woods again in near darkness. And it occurred to me that the cool breeze that brought on the pending storm was in fact a proverbial breeze ushering in change once again.

And so, it comes. I have to wonder how long it will take me to arrive at a full awareness of a new season, like when you finally have to resign to the fact that summer is truly gone. Because until you've done that, you're not ready to embrace the fall and all its unique blessings. Admittedly, I'm not ready for the next season. Or perhaps just not ready to leave this one behind. But as it always does, change comes. And it's up to me to put it in perspective, glass half full, so I don't miss the blessings God wishes to pour out on me in the midst of it. Wish me well. ;)

“But forget all that—it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."
Isaiah 43:18-19 (NLT)

Toni

Wheelin' and Dealin'

Reece(at a garage sale): "Um, um...how much do you waaaAANT (upspeaking) for this...these...um...these Scooby Doo books?"

Owner: "They're 50 cents a piece."

Reece(puzzled, as if the owner said something strange): "Oh! I didn't think you were selling them each one by itself since they're all in this box and we call that a collection."

Owner (after a restrained giggle): "Yes, I suppose it IS a collection."

Reece: "No, it IS. It IS a collection because they're all in one box like my Spongebob books and that's a collection too. So are these. So,.......how much for this collection?"

Owner: "Well,...that'd be two dollars."

Reece (frowning, and with a tone of disappointment): "Oh. I don't have two dollars. I only have one dollar."

Owner: "Hmmm. Okay, if you'd like them, I'll sell them to you for one dollar."

[Me, Toni, thinking, "Oh no. Here it comes."]

Reece: "Hmmm. No, thank you. I'm gonna see what else you have for one dollar."(owner cracks up)

Brandon: "Hey, Brudder. Don't buy dis car because it's 99 cents and it's only a Hot Wheels."


And the nuggets gained are:
1) At 3½ years old, everything is declared to be "99 cents" in Brandon's world.
2)And everything in Reece's 8 year old world looks tempting at a garage sale (that is, apparently, until he has to part with his one precious dollar.)

Toni

Need a Lab?

So my parents are coming to town this weekend for my daughter's dance recital. I made a checklist of things that need to get done before their arrival.
The usual list;
-clean out the van
-mop floors
-grocery shop
-wash bed linens
-vaccum the carpets

I thought I'd do the heavy vaccuming today, and then just a light touch up on Friday. I sent the kids up to the playroom so they wouldn't get in my way, then put our dog out in the backyard.

That last action was and is a very necessary prerequisite for vaccuming, as our dog is highly anxious and is terrified of storms and other loud noises (a la vaccum cleaners). Fail to put him out and you're sure to be shampooing the carpet as well. 'Nuff said.

As I finished the family room and headed into the living room, I happened to glance out our front window, only to see a flash of yellow go zipping by.

The dog.
Where is the dog?

Oh, that's right. I put him out back while I'm vaccuming.
All is well with the world.
Passed by the window again and noticed two big cockeyed brown eyes staring through the window at me.

Yes, my dog has brown eyes.

Yes, they're cockeyed.

I opened the front door and called him in.
"Bad! Boy! We do NOT crawl under the fence and escape. And I do NOT have time for these shenanigans. Now back outside and stay put, you hear?"

Tongue hanging out, he glanced sideways at me with his good eye as if to say, "Your point was?" and off he trotted into the backyard. Hmmmmf!

I turned the vaccum back on and again took to the task at hand. A few moments later, over the loud hum of the motor, my oldest daughter loudly exlaimed, "MOM! BRANDON POOPED IN HIS PANTS!"

Okay then, vaccum off.

Brandon, age 3½, has been potty trained for quite some time. And no, he does NOT poop "in his pants" so this was a most unwelcome message to receive in the middle of vaccuming. Off I went to clean him up, ever so slightly frustrated at the interruption (uh hem).

Can I just take this opportunity to point out, it's true what they say. Girls can be filled with drama. My daughter had me thinking I was headed for a major cleanup on aisle 9, but no. Just a little more than a skid mark to contend with. A quick change of underwear and a trip to the potty and I was good to go again.

Vaccum on.

As I rounded through the dining room, I had an unobstructed view of our patio sliding doors, the place where our neurotic, anxiety-ridden dog impatiently waits for someone to let him back in the house. Only............

Where. Is. That. Dog. ???

Vaccum off.

"Chance! CHAAAAAAANCE!!!"

I was screaming like a crazed banschee and looking like a weathered seahag from my on-again, off-again vaccuming experience.

I stomped to one side of the house.
No dog.
I stomped to the other side of the house.
No dog.
I went back inside and opened the front door.
No dog.

At this point, I seriously wondered if it was necessary to look for him where he had meandered off to.

Uh oh!
The POND!

I sprinted through the backyard to the fence line so I could see down the bank to our pond.

Sure enough, there he was.
ALLLLL soaking wet.
Because he had taken a lil' dip in the pond.
But wait, that's not all.
Being a dog and all, he also took a lovely lil' roll (or ten) in the many piles of goose poop that line the pond.

I'nt that special?
Precious, I know.
Did I mention it was 80º and humid?
Yeah, it was definitely adding smoke to my fire.

I stomped into the house, gathered his pinch collar and leash, strapped them to the bird feeder, then sweetly called him back into the yard (again!) I quickly placed him in the collar and fired up the hose because folks, let's just say vaccuming and goose poop are polar opposites. One cleans up messes while the other messes up clean.

That dog SMELLED!

So, I ask you. What lil' romp in goose business wouldn't be complete without a proper bath? Oh, I brought it alright. He most definitely got one. No, not just the initial hosing off I gave him either, but an all-out shampoo and comb out.

And that's one task I myself did not complete today.

Because after all, I wouldn't want my husband to miss out on all the at-home fun.

Anyone want a dog?
He enjoys long walks on the leash, catching frisbees, and an apparent occasional roll in a good poo.
Any takers?

Toni