Sidewalk Chalk?

     I have been deliberating on my feelings about sidewalk chalk.  Yeah, I know, way too much time on my hands.  I have always liked the idea of it, (kids playing outside, being creative, time with mom, etc.) but never really liked it.  It may have something to do with years of teaching with a black board and the proverbial finger-nail scratch and chills down the spine thing.  It also makes for disgusting feet and clothes, but that's okay, I"m not that high-maintenance when it comes to my children and cleanliness.  Kenny would disagree.
      With the spring-like weather yesterday (woo hoo), I sat outside in the front yard with the kids.  I had planned on sitting on a bench and reading while they chalked, but that's not where we are yet.  I"m still needed to trace bodies and answer to the "Mommy, draw me a house" pleas.
     With only 20% of my book left (I don't know page numbers anymore because my dark-ages Kindle only gives percentages) I had that "argh" feeling about getting on the ground and getting chalky.  But, I sucked it up and drew a sweet little house with windows, shutters and everything, and then got carried away drawing a sun, butterfly, bird, tree, swing-set and then a whole family with bright pink and blue hair.  It was fun, really.  Or maybe I need a creative outlet so badly that I just thought it was fun. . . No, I will take back all of my negative chalk-talk here and now and give it a thumbs up.  And the kids went on to create their own masterpieces of traced bodies that proudly identified their own personalities.  Elijah's had a baseball, cleats and baseball bat. Lydia's wore a crown and high heels. And Lanie begged me to give hers earrings and hold a baby doll.

And then I hurried them inside to "take a shower and clean off all that chalk."
       

Another drive to school

The exact opposite of what our morning looked like.

I had no idea that driving to school took up so much energy.  But, today was yet another bad morning even though we left at the "right" time.  I won't chronicle it the way I did last Thursday because it was much the same traffic, only foggier.  I sat in my line and watched many others pass me and made not a sound, though I did stay very, very close to the car in front of me.  We rushed into the school building at 8:03 (34 minutes from door to door) and Elijah snuck in while the girls were met with closed doors and tardy passes. Woe is me.  Something has to give.  Either A)move closer to the school; B) quit driving to LSA and attend Silverlake where there are three buses that stop in front of our house;  C) take a less volatile, but longer route or D) wake up the beast (that's Lanie) earlier and leave earlier.  Yeah, I know, writing it down makes the easiest answer seem pretty clear.  But we never do anything the easy way.

             Such a pretty, happy smile. This wasn't today.               

 

Bring on the Spring

    
This is a sad picture of our backyard right now.  Doesn't it look tired, muddy, and wintery? Yes. Yes. and Yes.  The flood of the past few weeks is draining but has left muddy spots; the trampoline has been jumped on so much it's falling apart; the jungle gym is going on 7 years and looks the part, and our flower bed is flowerless and holds only a garden NEBRASKA gnome.  I looked out the back door and sighed a heavy sigh wishing lush grass, bright flowers, and a green garden would appear without the work.  Our backyard is ready for a change -- bring on the Spring!   The problem is - our Spring in Houston is so short.  It rushes past me, always. I think it'll be here just a little bit longer.  So, I wanted to make a list of what I was looking forward to.  Maybe I'll appreciate it more.  See if you agree with my "What I love about Spring" list:

  

      1.  Buying new flowers. Last year the whole family went on the spontaneous, after church, flower-finding mission, so I think there was probably some frustration. But I love picking out new colorful plants.  I'm a bit flower-dumb though so I never consider how high they may grow or in what kind of shade      they will work best in.  I just love matching colors.
     2.  That first sunburn.  Now, I don't mean the kind you got in college, or the kind I got in college when I didn't really know what sunscreen was and floated down the Guadalupe for Spring Break in my lily-white Nebraska winter skin only to be met with pain, days of aloe, and hiding peeled skin. Instead, I mean the kind we brave mom's get when we play outside with the kids in our shorty shorts and tank tops way before shorty short season arrives only to have that tinge of pink later in the evening.  I love those days.  I always feel like I exercised.
         3.  Flip-flops every day.  Even though they are terrible things for my back. And just a little history about me: I was anti-flip-flops until 2003.  Something about things between my toes and dirty feet.  I have since come around.
        4.   Planning the summer.  I love to get the calendar out and plan, plan, plan.  Looking forward to trips and events is a big part of my life.
        5.  Picking out Easter dresses for the girls. Again, something to do with my love of matching up colors.  Poor Elijah, his outfit is picked based on the secondary color of the girls' dresses.  I have learned over the years that he refuses to wear pink (even a manly brown with a pink stripe. Party pooper.)
         6.  Opening windows - and since we sleep upstairs, this means keeping our bedroom window open all night.  It's a very short time-frame that we get to do this.  But, it's lovely.
         7.  Sitting outside at restaurants.  And yes, we do this even in winter and the heat of summer, but on the perfect Spring day, no one complains about being too cold or too humid.
        8.  If all bodes well, no bugs yet.  And to saddle up with this -- Being outside All Of The Time.  Our back porch becomes an extension of our house.  Forget cleaning the kitchen table after dinner because our meals are outside.  Love that the hose can do the work for me.
       9.  Baseball.  For most of the Fall school year the TV is on very little, except for those Saturday and Sunday football games. Come Spring and Summer, I allow the Astros to join us for some of our meals, and I don't care how bad they are. And Elijah is playing Spring ball for the first time ever so binging bats, dusty stands, bored girls, lots of snacks, and lots of practices (apparently) will fill our days.

      10.  Easter Saturday.  I know, I should just say the whole Easter weekend. I love me a Good Friday Bible Slamming service and all of the solemnity and meaning that it entails.  "Were you There" gets me every time. And I love Easter Sunday - the celebration of the Resurrection with a sunrise service, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today," girls in their pretty new dresses, lots of pictures, meals with friends and family, Easter egg hunts and candy, candy, candy.  But there is something beautiful about Easter Saturday.  Maybe it's the anticipation.   Maybe because we prepare our food (I am always in charge of deviled eggs), and lay out our clothes. Maybe it's because we hang out together as a family and dye our eggs.  I don't have a solid reason.  I just love it. Don't you?

Now I'm excited.  Bring on the Spring.
        

Growing Up! (The Lutheran Hour)

Growing up!

      We had the privilege of having Reverend Greg Seltz at our church today.  He is the new Lutheran Hour speaker and he gave both the sermon during church and did Bible study and I've got to tell you, I could have listened to him all day.  He was wonderful.  He said something that resonated with me and I just had to write it down before I forgot.  His message was titled, "Man, That's Living" and he focused on just what is living, and if you were wondering, it's not accumulating things or merely enjoying what the world brings us.  Instead, it's growing up. 
       If that sounds odd, he used a metaphor that sat well with me. As a mom of three young children, I have the pleasure of guessing what their lives will bring, what they will grow up "to be."  I asked each of them what they want to be when they grow up.
 
      Lydia: "I want to be an artist." 
      Mom:  "You'd be such a good teacher." (a girl after my own heart)
      Lydia:  "I want to be an art teacher. I'm a really good artist, mom."
     
      Lanie:  "I want to be a flower grower." 
      Mom: "What Lanie? Do you mean, a gardener?"
      Lanie: "What's a gardener?"

      Elijah:  "I want to work at Dairy Queen. I'll get free ice cream."
      Dad:  "That's more of a job you work while you are in school. Don't you want to go to school?"
      Elijah:  "Nope."

Don't tell me my children don't have lofty aspirations.  But more than what they'll do for their livelihood, I wonder how their faith will grow them up and what kind of men and women of God that they will be.   I am excited to see that. 
      Now, Imagine how much MORE thrilled it must be for the creator of the universe, the creator of each one of us, who knows every hair on our head, to watch us grow UP in Him.  How he must smile when we inch closer to being the men and women he created us to be.  Humbling, no doubt.  Especially on the days when I feel broken, flawed, and completely missed the boat on sharing the gospel message with people who share my fence.  But, ah! we needn't worry (who me, worry?) because while we are the broken jar of clay (more of Rev. Seltz metaphor, not mine) we Live with the treasure of the Savior. And there my friend, is where our purpose lives, where our lives finally begin to make sense. 
      I loved all that Rev. Seltz had to say and sorry if I just repeated his sermon message to you, but it was something I needed to hear, and thought you may too.  If nothing else, now you know which of my kids to give and not to give college funding too. (snicker, snicker)

And then there's Thursday

I wasn't silly enough to take car pics today, but this is a typical school day drive.

    After a luxurious Wednesday, the maddening rush of Thursday just doesn't seem fair.  And this morning was a doozy.  I have come to realize that I have an anger problem.  And I never had it until I had children.  But this morning on the 27 minute drive to school, I got a little bit of road rage.  And because the Wards are runner-laters, and we rush from here to there, this is not an uncommon feeling for me.  This is a sidebar, but I've always wanted a sign that would pop out of my car so all the drivers could see it that would read:  "Look, I'm just trying to get my kids to school so my son doesn't have a tardy on his perfect record."  Something like that so people would feel sorry for me and understand why I need to compete with the posted speed limit.
    After leaving EARLY (hear the heavenly chimes) we got stuck in Pearland traffic.  It's not supposed to be this way.  When you leave early, lights are supposed to be magically green the entire thoroughfare because the stop light fairies are on your side.  Not so.  And here's where the road rage comes in.  I'm fine when it's just traffic, but when I'm the schmuck waiting 5 light cycles in one lane of cars while 30 other more aggressive drivers speed around me only to veer in front of me and fifty other drivers waiting their turn, I get mad.  Something to do with justice.  And then I feel justified to honk and I don't mean just a peep, but to HONK that horn as a Mercedes noodles her way in cutting off my chance to make it through a yellow light. (another law I would have broken).  Of course, I'm shamed with my impatience when Elijah (the only one in the car who cares about getting to school on time - see sidebar above for reason) makes a mocking comment about the bad driver and getting down a license plate to tell the police on them.
     And then I have to check myself, recognize another flaw,  and remind Elijah (and myself) that getting mad isn't going to help anything.  And it didn't.  Instead, it gave me something to feel bad about, and to think about the rest of the drive to school as my daughters took turns singing happy songs.  Parenting is hard.  Doing the right thing, being the good example, blessing your children with nuggets of how-to live a Christ-like life, so much harder.  But I imagine, someday, totally worth the effort.
     Until then, if you cut me off, forgive my little honk.  I promise I'll feel bad about it in just a few more minutes. 

Typical Wednesday

The Elmo family takes a family picture

Princess turned Knight

         Lately, my Wednesday's have looked very similar.  Kenny takes the big kids to school and I stay home with Lanie.  We used to rush here and there to Gymnastics or the gym, but lately, it's been a lot of, well, see pictures.  We stay in our pajamas, Lanie watches DORA (oh, when will her fascination with DORA end?!?!), and we talk about what we want to do with our day: what store we should go to, what friend we should visit, what we should have for lunch.  It seems to be the only day where Lanie plays by herself (for a moment or two), without Lydia telling her what to do.  I love it and I sneak away and clean up the mess of the morning until "Mama, come play
with  me."  If it seems lazy, I guess it is a bit, but after tending to a 3-year-old's imagination, and often her anger, not to mention a regressed potty routine, I'm a bit worn out and ready to have brother and sister home.

Happy Fat Tuesday!

       This weekend we met our friends, the Hergenraders and their 4 kids in Galveston for our First Mardi Gras parade.  The rain subsided and the sun was shining. It was a wonderful day.  Beads were had by all!

All Choked Up

     Maybe I've seen Hoosiers too many times and if you have too and you admit it, the final basket to win the championship game had you in tears.  Or maybe you connect more to Rudy and his final tackle to lead Notre Dame to a win.  Either one, today I saw something that, though a much smaller scale, can compete.  Elijah plays basketball with a Christian organization called UPWARD.  It's a great place for kids to learn a sport, without negativity, and the coaches bring Christ's message each week to the kids.  His team is called "The Nets."  This Saturday was the second to last game of the season and the coaches really want every kid to have made a basket.  This year, one boy, we'll call him jersey #2 had yet to score.
     Our coaches talked with the opposing team's coaches and the refs so everyone was on the same page.  The goal - help #2 succeed.  Somehow, today, the team and the entire audience of parents and grandparents seemed to know that the most important thing to do was to give #2 the ball.  Because #2 isn't aggressive, he's not had many chances to shoot. If you've ever seen a 7 or 8 year-old play basketball, you know how hard it is for them to pass the ball.  And if you're not aggressive, chances are your turn won't come too often.  TEAM is something they are learning; today I was blessed to see it in action.
       I watched these young boys guard the other players so that #2 could have the ball.  I watched them steal the ball from the opposing team, only to pass it #2.   When he tried unsuccessfully to make a couple of shots, you could hear the entire audience groan with fear he wouldn't get a chance again.  Near the end of the game, #2 was passed the ball right under the hoop and everyone yelled - "shoot the ball" and when he did, and it swished, the eruption of the gym broke me.  I was clapping. I was cheering.  I was loving this moment.  I looked at #2's parents who all season had wanted nothing but a good experience for their boy, for him to fit in, to feel successful,  and to have fun.  They were wild with joy, beaming really with relief.  I was proud of everyone today: the players on both teams, the coaches, the refs, and the parents who so dearly want each child to have their moment.  Yep, I'll admit it, Jimmy Chitwood has nothing on #2 and the Nets.

The continuing saga of FITZ

This story still amazes me, so I have to write about it.
        It all started last September when one of our two cats, Jade died.  Yes, it was sad (mostly for me and Kenny since she was never too friendly to the kids) and No, we weren't considering getting another cat to take her place.  We still have 15-year-old Boo Radley, the cat I brought to the marriage.  Much to our surprise, in October this friendly, adorable cat walked onto our porch and into our front door and won all of us over (except Radley).  For the first time, the kids had a cat who really played, who jumped and ran and well, things that cats do (who aren't 15 years old).  After Halloween names like Spooky, Skittles, and Goblin were discussed, we ended up with Fitz.  Can't be sure how.
        Fitz was playful and loving, but preferred to be outside.  He would cozy up at night but mostly enjoyed watching birds, running after kids at the park (really), and sunning on the fence.  I wasn't surprised when on January 1st (the day this picture was taken) Fitz disappeared.  We waited a day, a second day, and finally realized that he is just too friendly not to have been taken by someone else.  We put out the obligatory signs and the kids called for him whenever they were outside.  I had a feeling, and forgive the Shawshank Redemption quote, but "some birds, or cats, aren't meant to be caged."  He would never be an indoor cat and as long as the kids tried carrying him around like a baby, why would he want to stay? 
      But, and sorry this is getting longer, the story doesn't end.  One month later, while on a walk, we see a sign for a FOUND CAT and there is Fitz in the picture.  I call the number and yes, this family and their neighbors fed Fitz for two weeks, but they called him Norman and their neighbors called him Armando.  But he had disappeared days ago and they hadn't seen him. Again, I gave up.  I was already thinking about what holiday we would surprise the kids with a kitten.
     But, the story doesn't end there. Again on a walk, Lanie and I saw a cat and there was our Fitz running up a tree.  Much to Lanie's prodding, I tried to carry him and push the stroller home but this cat, fat and fluffy and obviously well taken care of, wanted nothing to do with me so he took off.  Though we came back and searched for him, he had dashed off.  Again, I made promises to the kids that we would get a new cat someday.
      But, the story doesn't end there.  Last night at dinner, I get a phone call and the family who found Fitz the last time had him on their porch.  To make a too long story finally short -- he's back in our house again after 45 days lost. The kids are ecstatic; Boo Radley is cranky, and I'm not sure how this is all going to turn out.

I guess . . . "to be continued" for now. 

What I learned this Valentine's Day:

Lesson #1.  If you have a 3, 4, 5 or even 6 year old, start making Valentine's early.  Never fall into the "oh, we'll get it all done tonight" lie, because you won't.  It takes days for a 3-year-old to sit still long enough to write her name 12 times.

Lesson #2.  Never leave a young child alone to do her "own" valentines.  You must supervise.  Or else - you will end up with backward E's, unreadable names, and dum dum suckers sticks stuck to the table.

Lesson #3.  Never, ever, ever, ever, ( I would go on) but truly, never go to Walmart on the eve of Valentine's Day.  I don't get it - it was 9pm and there were parents in pajamas pushing carts with screaming kids who were JUST NOW getting their Valentine's for tomorrow's party!  What?!?  Don't they know about Lesson #1.

Lesson #4.  Finally, surprise your kids with something special Valentine's morning (even if you bought it at Walmart the night before at 9pm) because, well, it just makes them feel special.

And that's what it's all about.

Hope your Valentine's was a happy one!

Actors in our midst

          Now that Elijah is 8, Lydia almost 6 and Lanie 3, it's always a treat to actually see all 3 of them playing pretend together.  Elijah is often too old for that, or at least too old to play princess or school or mommy/daddy like the girls always want to do, so it was a shocker when all 3 of them pulled off a 1/2 hour of play practice and a show "The Heist" (my title) later that night.  Yes, the plot was a bit thin and the dialogue a little light, but overall, best play ever about a boy who steals gold and chapstick from two sleeping girls.  There is even a fight scene. It really is not an event to be missed.  So, if you have the time, check it out though at 3 minutes and 52 seconds, it may be only a kids play that a mom can love.  If you do find the time, beware, Lydia talks with her back to the audience. I guess it's time for drama classes.

Forever with you

At dinner the other night, Lanie, the baby of the family, told us that she never, ever wanted to grow up and move away from us, not ever.  I got a good chuckle out of that and she said, really, she didn't.  Her big sister chimed in with the same because of course, she doesn't want to leave mom or dad either.  But big brother was there to tell both of them, "girls, you'll change your mind someday and you're gonna want to leave." 
Hmm, what does he know that they don't?  Does he know about the teenage years?  Does he have an inkling to what independence feels like?  Or has he had enough years to look through mom and dad and see that we don't have all the answers?
Whichever it is, I ache a bit knowing I won't have their full devotion forever. 

On a similar note - the next night at dinner, Lanie told us that she wanted to get marwied (that's married for kid talk) and have a white dress like mama.  Should I break the news to her that her husband (or what she calls a daddy because she can't distinguish between the two) will not want to live with dear old mom and dad like she does?  Nah. Not yet.

Keep praying

You know when something tragic happens - not to you, but to people around you, and you feel the pain for a while, pray for awhile, but then something else takes its place?  I hope to not do that with the recent tragedy of a girl, Laura Geske, I went to college with.  While driving from Kansas City to Salina, Kansas, she was killed along with two of her three children. Her husband and their son were saved.  I didn't know her, not really, but I don't think you have to know a family, to try and put yourself in the shoes of what their loved ones must be going through.  It's devastating - and it's so real.  It could have happened to my family or your family.  Laura's husband Jeff is a Lutheran pastor and I have been delighted to hear so many Lutheran (and probably others) congregations who have them on their prayer list.  I hope their family is not taken off the prayer list any time soon because our prayers, even from people who don't know the Geske family, are the one way we have to communicate to our Father how we pray His will be done even when we don't understand it, how we know that the moment Laura was ushered into heaven with her two beautiful children by her side that God welcomed them with a peace that passes all understanding, and how we pray that her family who is left behind finds joy in the midst of what must be a flood, a hurricane of emotions. I pray for them and in doing so, pray God changes me as well to be more appreciative, more aware of this life and my love for my family, and to recognize the short breath I have and what I must do with it.