In my neighborhood, you have to make sure you lock your house up. And never leave your car unlocked. And never, never leave your purse unattended. Seriously. It's not that I live in a bad neighborhood. Let me explain...
*A few years ago, on a Sunday afternoon, I had gone to the hospital nine months pregnant to 'get checked'. Once there, it was determined that I could stay and have a baby. Our children at home had been given their lunch and were in the care of my responsible (then 12 yr old) son and his 10 yr old sister. A lovely neighbor heard from a friend that we had gone to the hospital and headed over to the house to make sure everything was ok. My kids are not supposed to open doors to anyone while we are gone, but this kind lady had no problems, as the door was unlocked. She went in, cleaned the kitchen and folded multiple baskets of clean laundry.
*A few years later, while I was having yet another baby, a team of industrious and Christlike women coerced the garage code out of a dear friend, let themselves in and cleaned the ENTIRE house.
*When we leave our van unlocked, we don't come back to find the stereo missing....we find the van loaded with garden produce and bags of gently used clothing.
*When I leave my purse unattended, as was the case a few weeks ago, IN CHURCH, I came back to find $20 tucked in my wallet.
*Gifts have been left, monies tucked, groceries produced.
The latest of these 'heavenly-magic-miracles' has left me speechless. It's true TGH is out of work, and we have 7 children. It's true that we are never in what people would call a stable financial situation. But I just looked in my previously empty wallet and found generosity that astounds me.
I am the exact and utter opposite of robbed. We are watched over, spoiled, and cared for in so many ways.
I need a new scripture for this one....Psalms 23:5-6
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely agoodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Thank you. I hope I live my life in such a way as to someday deserve and return to others the blessings that spill over the edge of my cup.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Baking
I have been baking and baking. . . . and baking for the past few weeks. Everytime I turn around there is a reason for baking something. First, I had little 6's first friend birthday party. So I made princess cupcakes. Then, little 7's school had a bake sale. A very successful bake sale. So successful, in fact, that they ran out of muffins and sent an emergency email to parents asking us to bake more muffins. How could I say no? So I made a bunch of muffins.
Then we ran out of fish crackers and snack time became a problem, so I made cookies.
The next day, I realized that little 6's actual birthday was coming up and she had requested an Ariel cake. Baking again. And decorating.
Then on Sunday we had another cookie craving. Yes, we ate them all, but my love of cookies goes without saying, so I made more.
Yesterday I remembered that little 6 was also having a kindergarten bake sale and I had signed up. Awhile ago. Before all the other baking. So, I thought I would make cookies. I made a huge double batch of white chocolate, cranberry. They tasted delicious, but did not look delicious. In fact, they did not look "sale worthy" to me. So, last night I baked again. If you can call rice krispy treats baking.
And today, even though we are still munching on leftover cake, our cookie jar is overflowing, and there are even a few cupcakes still drifting around, I happen to know that my dear husband would like some of those rice krispy treats that I sent to school for himself. So, if you want me, I'll be in the kitchen. Baking.
Then we ran out of fish crackers and snack time became a problem, so I made cookies.
The next day, I realized that little 6's actual birthday was coming up and she had requested an Ariel cake. Baking again. And decorating.
Then on Sunday we had another cookie craving. Yes, we ate them all, but my love of cookies goes without saying, so I made more.
Yesterday I remembered that little 6 was also having a kindergarten bake sale and I had signed up. Awhile ago. Before all the other baking. So, I thought I would make cookies. I made a huge double batch of white chocolate, cranberry. They tasted delicious, but did not look delicious. In fact, they did not look "sale worthy" to me. So, last night I baked again. If you can call rice krispy treats baking.
And today, even though we are still munching on leftover cake, our cookie jar is overflowing, and there are even a few cupcakes still drifting around, I happen to know that my dear husband would like some of those rice krispy treats that I sent to school for himself. So, if you want me, I'll be in the kitchen. Baking.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Cheese and Scriptures
I have two things on my mind today, cheese and scripture. They are not related, except that in the course of a day as a mom, they tend to actually be in my mind together frequently. First, the cheese. My 4 year old is very bugged with me today, because I have no cheese in the house. I knew we were low, but somehow forgot yesterday when I was at the store (for the 40th time) (I'm exaggerating, I was only there 3 times...4 at the most). So, today, when he went through the fridge looking for a cheese stick, there were none. He sighed, opened the pantry and saw tortilla chips. "Cheese?" he asks me. What he wants is this canned stuff called Que Bueno that comes in a #10 can from Costco and is also known as 'Nacho Cheese'. Well, we're out of that too. He's bugged with me. If I were a different person, I would have gone to the store today, but our family doesn't shop on Sundays. So here we are, cheeseless. No sticks. No bricks. No sauces. No slices. No cans, bags, boxes, or any other kind of package cheese could potentially come in, either as an actual cheese or cheese product. The 4 yr old is sitting at the table, eating plain tortilla chips and giving me death looks.
As for the scripture, my dear friend Leslie was empathizing with me over the very recent job lay-off of TGH. (you may all feel sorry for me now) when she mentioned the scriptural account of Job. (ironic...now that i think about it, we were talking about jobs and Job) She said,"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."(more or less, Job 1:21) She said it in such a funny way as to make me laugh,which was just what i needed. Both emotionally and scripturally. Which reminded me of my good friend Melody, who always says when something breaks and has got me saying it too: "Lay up not for yourself treasures on earth where moth and dust doth corrupt (and where children break your wedding gifts) and thieves break in and steal...."(Matthew 6:19-21) So, my point is, that God appears to be well acquainted with the human condition and addressed these conditions in the scriptures. Which makes me think, that if I really went looking, I might be able to find a verse or two about cheese...or how to deal with a 4yr old death look.
p.s. check out sahmsistersread.blogpspot.com:)
As for the scripture, my dear friend Leslie was empathizing with me over the very recent job lay-off of TGH. (you may all feel sorry for me now) when she mentioned the scriptural account of Job. (ironic...now that i think about it, we were talking about jobs and Job) She said,"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."(more or less, Job 1:21) She said it in such a funny way as to make me laugh,which was just what i needed. Both emotionally and scripturally. Which reminded me of my good friend Melody, who always says when something breaks and has got me saying it too: "Lay up not for yourself treasures on earth where moth and dust doth corrupt (and where children break your wedding gifts) and thieves break in and steal...."(Matthew 6:19-21) So, my point is, that God appears to be well acquainted with the human condition and addressed these conditions in the scriptures. Which makes me think, that if I really went looking, I might be able to find a verse or two about cheese...or how to deal with a 4yr old death look.
p.s. check out sahmsistersread.blogpspot.com:)
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Merry Christmas
Has anyone else been dealing with the "Santa" question. I have always had the opinion that it would be cute if the kiddos believe, but I'm not going to actually tell them if Santa is real one way or another. I really think it's fun for little kids to believe but I don't want to say something that they can actually come back to and call me "liar" someday. You know, you hear those traumatic "I found out Santa was not real" stories. Anyway, that was all until this year Miss 5 year-old started going around telling Miss 4 year-old that Santa was not real.
I was sitting in the van with Miss 4 when she said, "Mom, I know you've been tricking me about Santa, Miss 5 told me."
My previous ideas went out the window and I immediately told Miss 5 that if she kept talking bad about Santa he was going to bring her coal. Since then, I have been shamelessly making up all kinds of Santa lore. I have been trying frantically to recreate the lost dream that Miss 5 shot down. I didn't know I cared so much about them believing and I don't know if it's working or if the girls think I've gone nuts.
I was sitting in the van with Miss 4 when she said, "Mom, I know you've been tricking me about Santa, Miss 5 told me."
My previous ideas went out the window and I immediately told Miss 5 that if she kept talking bad about Santa he was going to bring her coal. Since then, I have been shamelessly making up all kinds of Santa lore. I have been trying frantically to recreate the lost dream that Miss 5 shot down. I didn't know I cared so much about them believing and I don't know if it's working or if the girls think I've gone nuts.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Martha Stewart Will Not Be Dining With Us
I got this from a friend (Thanks to Melody!), who got it from a friend, who got it from a friend... you get the idea.
Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. I'm telling you in advance, so don't act surprised. Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes: Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.
Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea.
The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from last Christmas.
Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey.
We will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hotline. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 a.m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds.
As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.
We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like.
In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table. In a separate room. Next door.
Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.
I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread. Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.
Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it.
Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She probably won't come next year either. I am thankful.
Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. I'm telling you in advance, so don't act surprised. Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes: Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.
Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea.
The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from last Christmas.
Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey.
We will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hotline. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 a.m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds.
As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.
We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like.
In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table. In a separate room. Next door.
Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.
I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread. Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.
Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it.
Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She probably won't come next year either. I am thankful.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Rejection
So, I interviewed this person last night, or rather, she interviewed me...I guess we interviewed each other, ANYWAY, I met with a woman to discuss her bringing her kids to my daycare. The easiest things about this are that I love meeting new people and talking about myself. The hardest things are that I am a terrible first impression judger and I hate rejection. So, I looked this woman over, she is young, blonde, attractive. Slimmer and taller than me (not hard to do) and has an interesting voice (maybe she was catching a cold?). But, aside from the physical characteristics, I have no idea what she was thinking or if she'll hire me or not. I never can tell anything about people. Nine times out of 10 I'm completely or mostly wrong about someone. Which is funny, because my first impressions of my husband were that he was very good looking but not for me (♥can anyone say 21 years of marriage♥?) Many of my close friends I have disliked on sight. So, I have come to think that the worse it went, the better it will go. Weird. Plus, I can never tell whether someone likes me or not. Mostly I worry that I talked to much. (*a moment of silence to consider that*) And then, after inviting someone in and talking about myself and my family and my business, they can just up and decide they don't want me near their kids. Huh. So, after listening to me and seeing me, they know that they don't want me. Something about me or my house or my kids was off-putting. It's hard to take. You have to have a strong self esteem and sense of worth. Thankfully, I'm absolutely aware that even though I talk too much, I'm fabulous:) but I still hope she brings her kids...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
