This is my story....this is my song.....

It was never my desire to provide conversation for so many people. I just wanted to go about my happy way, living my family's interpretation of the  "American Dream"....life had other plans. In the beginning, people came to me out of ...dare I say....nosiness. They wanted the details. The dirt. On why the marriage had failed. Over time, many years, their questions have changed. And as I answer the questions, my heart centers on one verse that I know I can absolutely personally claim to be true...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20. I know,  I have always known, that Satan sought to destroy my family. And, in a sense, he succeeded. One home, is now two. And it hurt. At times, it still hurts. But even though the "family" lost the fight, God is winning the war. This week, I have had no fewer than 15 people ask me about the aftermath of our divorce. Wanting encouragement, wanting to know how we have remained committed as parents, even though we were no longer spouses. They want to know how the girls are thriving. How the family has experienced restoration, without reconciliation. Wanting to know more about God's mercy. His goodness...I only have one answer...."You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20.

And so, as I proclaim "This is my story, this is my song" I can't help but wonder....does Satan ever regret waging war on our household? Because even though the battle has been bloody at times, the victory is certain. God is touching lives. I am humbled by my part. I am grateful for a testimony that has much more depth than it had a decade ago....for a faith that I know, without a doubt, is placed in a holy, living God...and for that, every battle has been worth fighting.

Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the.....

1. My itty bitty is sick. Nothing serious, just a cold. But she's miserable. And I can't fix it.
2. My first born had a migraine a couple of nights ago. It broke my heart. I wouldn't wish a migraine on my worst enemy, much less my child. I'm sorry this is in our genetic pool, B. But you handled it with grace.
3. My blond child has a sore on her toe...I didn't want to leave her out of the list.....
4. A chicken on the Tyson truck in front of us spewed out some bodily fluids this morning. I would prefer a bug on my windshield.
5. The high today in Bar Harbor, Maine is 81........sigh........our high is 102......
6. I stayed up last night just to watch Bravo's Million Dollar Decorators. Its disgraceful how much that show entertains me.
7. I spent Sunday afternoon with a friend I grew up with. She makes my heart happy. Never, in all the years that we have known each other, have I ever had to explain one of my jokes to her. She makes me laugh until liquids come out of my nose. She's so awesome.
8. I've been trying to work on an essay about Love....its harder than I thought....because mental Memory Lane is still under construction. Some detours have not been cleaned up, and put to order. They still look like a War Zone. And sometimes I get side tracked.
9. I know I've loved. But I wonder if I've ever been loved. Unconditionally. By someone who bore no blood ties to me. And who wasn't a Froot Loop. Or my Heavenly Father.
10. and see....here I've sat....it's a topic that always perplexes me to the point of losing all perspective on time....and so....Evidently I've lost the creative flow. That's what happens in a War Zone. I can't even figure out if I am in fact the windshield, being splat with the world's stuff....or if I'm the bug, doing my best to dodge all those big sheets of glass hurling themselves at me.....

And my heart says..... "Ahhhh"......

I have been able to sew this week. Really sew. Not a make-it-tonight, wear-it-tomorrow quickie. Not something for my girls, or the house, or my precious customers....something for ME. That required tons of tailoring, trimming, and topstitching. Its been several years since I took on this type of project. I loved every minute of it. And throughout the process, I of course thought about all the women who have given my heart the ability to........."ahhhhh".....

Mom, yes. I cut straight, sat up straight at the machine, and absolutely...You can look at the inside of my pencil skirt when you get home. Provided I'm not wearing it. Mrs. Overbey...I loved and patted that fabric every minute I was handling it. I loved it so carefully, there are not even enough scraps for a quilt square. Mrs. Bourgois, I pulled and tied my tails. In a perfect square knot. I trimmed, and notched, and understitched every blessed square inch. And while I was doing the hand stitching, I remembered how in class you would at times take our hand stitching away from us. Just so you could do a few stitches. You loved it that much. Ms. Rablais, I agree. The pink damask is more suited to an upholstery project than clothing. But upon my fiber testing, I determined that it was made of all natural components (cotton, to be exact) and I properly treated it before I began. I felt that the juxtaposition of the damask to a pencil skirt would be the only way Mrs. Marquette would climb on board...I just never was quite modern enough for her taste. Upon completion, I have determined that my rear very closely resembles a couch cushion, so in the end...you should both be happy. Dr. Belleau, Ma'am, it is with great reverence and trepidation that I humbly submit my project for your approval...all while never making eye contact and backing slowly from the room. My eyes were appropriately dropped to the floor, Ma'am, except for the brief moment that they glanced up to see if your nostril would flare, or if your eyebrow would flicker. Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am. Cym...I miss you. I miss your shop. I miss you inspecting every seam while I sat with baited breath. I even miss you telling me to rip it out 37 times and try again, if only for the satisfaction I felt when the 38th time was acceptable. I miss you telling me it was time for a coffee break....which meant I was to hop up, and fix the coffee....I miss your regalness, your confidence, your impeccableness (is that even a word? It should be. She was always impeccable.) I miss the bolts of Italian cashmere that sewed....like butter...the silk charmuse that could be ruined by a hang-nail. The linen, that made everything in the world seem right. Egyptian cottons, that made shirts so crisp...the women would stand and look at themselves in the fitting mirror for endless amounts of time. Or maybe that was just because they were the most self-involved blue bloods under the sun. I even miss them. And the look that would pass between us when they were prattling on and on about the upcoming Cotillions (nothing more than a fancy dance with lots of liquor). I've missed my Bs this week, but I have thoroughly enjoyed revisiting, in my mind, the ladies that gave me the skills (after I gave them LOTS of money) that have allowed my heart to say........ahhhhh.......

One of those days....

Its just been one of those days. I should have seen it coming. My hair cooperated all too well this morning. A sure sign that the rest of the day was going down hill. I spoke a tad too sternly in the car this morning, but wanted to scream and yell. Maybe I should have-gotten it out of my system. Instead, I worked to grin and bear it all day. Finally made it to 4:00-Wednesday is a close-early day (Yay!). Came home, determined to redeem the day....

The kittens learned how to climb WAY UP HIGH today. I'll spare you the majority of the details, except to say there are clear (read: impossible to see until you step on them) marbles EVERYWHERE. I don't even know why we have the marbles in the first place. (or why we have the kittens, for that matter.) They also found several spools of thread. Which they played with while chasing marbles...can you imagine the spider web obstacle course throughout the house???

I finally found my way to the oven. The roast was going to be balm for our souls tonight. Or rather noon tomorrow. Which is the soonest it will possibly be done. Plan B: chicken and rice casserole. Easily thrown together. Still putting a home-cooked meal in front of my Bs...then I realized it looked funny...re-evaluated the situation and had forgotten to add the rice. Mixed in the rice using a plastic fork. Don't ask why that was my utensil of choice. Okay. Ask why. Like I have any pride left in this day. There were only four regular forks clean. Didn't want to have to wash one before we ate. Will throw everything in the dishwasher after dinner. As if I'm the only one too lazy to wash a single fork. Anyway, I am using the plastic fork. Which then breaks while I'm stirring in the rice. (Yes, I was taking some of the day's frustrations out on the little tiny grains)

So. Needless to say, someone's bite of nourishment tonight will come complete with a prong of a clear plastic fork. THat's right. I couldn't find it, and I finally quit looking. Chew carefully, girls. Whoever finds it gets to do the dishes.

Blessed.....beyond measure.....

1. Lucky is having a friend that will give you a hug and say "You poor thing." Blessed is having a friend that will kick you in the rear and tell you to "Deal with it."
2. Lucky is a friend that tells you to call if you need anything. Blessed is the friend that calls you at 1am because she knows you need to talk.
3. Lucky is having a friend that knows you don't feel good, and tells you that you look good, no matter what. Blessed is a friend that will fix your hair and do your makeup, because she loves you too much to let you be seen looking as bad as you feel.
4. Lucky is having a friend that you can call if you are in trouble. Blessed is having a friend that keeps an envelope of cash in the back of her sock drawer. Because she knows that should a certain person ever say the wrong thing on the right day....she's going to need to bail you out of jail. And she's ready.
5. Lucky is having friends to compare war wounds with. Blessed is having a friend whose battle scars are carbon copies of yours. Because she's fought every fight you have. Side by side.
6. Lucky is having a friend show up with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. Blessed is having a friend who looks you dead in the eye and tells you that you better not wreck your diet over the latest bump. And she means it.
7. Lucky is having a friend that will stand next to you while you make a complete and total fool of yourself in public. Blessed is having a friend who darts out to bring the car to the door. She knows you can handle yourself just fine. But when you are finished making an absolute rear of yourself in front of God and everyone...it will be time to get the heck out of dodge.
8. Lucky is having a friend tell you that she's praying for you. Blessed is having a friend sit with her arms wrapped around you while you scream at God...knowing that if He strikes you with lightening, she's going with you...but she refuses to let you hurt alone.
9. Lucky is having a friend that encourages you to get some rest. Blessed is having a friend that gives you her last sleeping pill and tucks you into bed. Knowing everything will look better on the back end of 12 hours of sleep. And then she stays to fold your laundry. Because she's just awesome that way.
10. Lucky is having a friend that will overlook transgressions for the sake of the friendship. Blessed is having a friend that will fight with you. Loudly. Because what you have matters too much to let stuff go unresolved.
11. Lucky is having a friend who will sit thru hours on end of you trying on clothes, trying to find just the right thing. Blessed is having a friend who jimmies the dressing room door lock and intervenes in a situation going downhill fast...saving you from yourself...and the frightening pile of jeans....
12. Lucky is having a friend tell you that she hopes your day gets better. Blessed is having a friend show up and tell your kids to get in her car. Because she knows that otherwise, the day doesn't stand a chance.
13. Lucky is having a friend that will support you, no matter what. Blessed is having a friend that knows when she needs to step in and take mattters into her own hands...because even though your heart knows what needs to be done, your head just can't make the rest of your body cooperate.
14. Lucky is having a friend tell you "life isn't fair." Blessed is having a friend who gives you her last pair of big girl panties. And holds your purse while you put them on.
15. I am blessed...beyond measure.....

Would you like a spoonful of peanut butter, Mr. President?

435 Representatives, 100 Senators, a President, and a Vice-President....unable to balance a budget. In my mind, this is completely and totally unacceptable. How many people this past April sent the IRS a note...."Sorry, we are having to default this year on our taxes. My spouse and I just can't seem to agree on how to work out our budget for the year." Or how many have left an "IOU" at the gas pump...or sitting on the grocery shelf...No one. It would be considered stealing, and you would be punished. As managers of our households, we have to make the amount of money we have work. That means hard decisions. At times, agonizing decisions. But that's part of being a grown up. You do the hard thing. You tell your kids..."We're having scrambled eggs for dinner. And for a special treat, I might put some cheese on them"....or, "Mom, what's for lunch? Get a spoonful of peanut butter, sweetie" You eat beans and cornbread until you fear a bean sprout is going to come out of your nose. You turn off the cable, and internet service, recognizing those things are not necessities. Trips to the movies halt. The thermostat is set on 80 degrees, and clothes are put on the clothesline to keep the electric bill at a level you can pay. You do the hard thing. And you survive.
I think its time our government officials took a time out. Treat them like the petulant children that they are. I would love to see many of them get a good old-fashioned thrashing, but in this day of political correctness, I realize that's not going to happen. So send them to a fancy painted chair, preferably monogrammed with their initials (so as to protect their self-esteem) and tell them to sit and watch. Then send a "right" and a "left" housewife from each state to Washington, and give them the August 2nd deadline. I'd being willing to wager that they would all be back home by the end of next week... because by then, someone will be out of clean underwear, and that laundry is not going to do itself.

The Lizard Wore Bunny Slippers...

There was a lizard in my store this morning when I came to work. My mom came and stood guard while I went home to get the cats. It's their job to seek, capture, kill, and utterly destroy. They've been napping in the dressing room all day. (Totally unaware that they have eaten their last meal. I don't feed those who don't work.) Mom went home to get dad (he still can't drive because of his knee replacement). We couldn't find the evil creature, and dad said all the right things to convince me that the beast would find its way out and I would likely never see him again. They left, and I went next door for a bathroom break...since I hadn't found Satan's Spawn, I of course couldn't use my facilities. A lizard's #1 hiding spot is under the rim of a toilet. You probably didn't know that, did you? Imagine how many have almost crawled up...never mind. Focus.....Anyway. I went next door. When I returned, HE WAS WAITING FOR ME by the bookshelf. Of course, I screamed. Which made the three men waiting in the parking lot chuckle quite a bit. But only one was brave enough to come investigate. While the other two stood behind him and peered around him. It was quite obvious that even though they laughed at me, it was a cover-up for the terror they felt being that close to something capable of eating out your eyeballs. They gave up. Unable to find Lucifer the Lizard. I then did the only thing I could do. Call on Clause 17 found in Article 13, Section 2B which states, in part...."In addition, the Plaintiff therefore now and forever more, realizes the very real and ever present danger of both reptiles and amphibians in the great state of Arkansas. Since the Defendant agrees to remain in the great state of Arkansas, the Plaintiff is under legal obligation to now and forever more always be available to seek, capture, kill, and utterly destroy, any reptiles or amphibians that may threaten the life of the Defendant, or their offspring. This mission, it is understood by the acknowledgement of the signature of the Plaintiff on the court's document, will always take precedence over any activity or endeavor that the Plaintiff may find himself involved in. So says the Court." So. I called the Plaintiff. He had taken our children to lunch. I explained that they needed to wrap it up, and come catch a lizard. (Remember. We lived in Baton Rouge for 4 years. This was not the first call of this nature he had ever received.) In the meantime, I propped the door of the store open. And stood an a chair, holding a broom. Because this is appropriate combat positon. In my stealth position, Lucifer the Lizard peeked his head out from behind the bookcase. I stifled a scream. We made eye contact. I will see those black beads in my sleep tonight. I remained in positon. Hoping he would think I spend all my time on a chair, holding a broom. He inched his way toward the door. Stopping on the threshold. Trying to decide whether to return to the world, or... quick like a cat, spin around and lunge for my eyeballs. My heart actually stopped beating for a few minutes while I waited to see what he would do. He stepped outside. I used my broom handle to push the fire extenguisher that had been propping the door open, out of the way. The vet pulled into the parking lot, and appropriately removed the evil creature from the sidewalk and property. He knows his job, and out the door is not sufficient. I want a death certificate.
It was only after I knew for certain that our lives had been spared that I could smile. At the image of Lucifer the Lizard creeping out of here. With four dust bunny slippers on his feet, courtesy of the land..."Behind the Bookshelves"...

Happy Birthday.....squared...

I lay on the table, draped in a sheet. My husband stood next to me, holding our 15mth old daughter. I was waiting for the technician to give me the all clear. My bloodwork didn't look good, and I was there for the doctor to determine if infection had set in following an almost 12 week miscarriage. The screen from the ultrasound meant nothing to me. I was watching my husband's face for a clue. When the tech literally jumped up and ran out to get a doctor, combined with the absolute look of shock, and terror on my husband's face...I became terrifed. I knew surgery must be imminent. Tears started to trickle out of the corner of my eyes. Brittany babbled, unaware of how tightly she was being held. The doctor came in, and didn't say a word as he started to scan me. He made eye contact with Shane and Shane gave a slight nod..."I know." "You know?" the doctor seemed surprised. "I'm a vet. I know." The doctor only nodded. Everything in me was screaming. I didn't know. Was the infection  so bad that I would never have more children? Was I going to die?? Who was going to raise Brittany? I didn't finish the dishes before we came.... I was quickly, silently, putting on my Drama Queen crown. Finally, the doctor remembered that the uterus he was looking at was attached to a person. Bringing me up to speed, he pointed to the screen. Identifying not one, but two babies. My face now matched my husband's. Barely 6 weeks pregnant, we started what has been the ride of a lifetime.

The pregnancy was horrid. Every single day. I felt like two aliens had taken possession of my body. I've never been one to experience the "glow" of motherhood. More like radiating a neon-green color, sweat pouring off of me while I heaved into the toilet for the 123rd time each day. I am not exaggerating. My ribs looked like I had been beaten. Bruised from the force of the vomitting. For 7 1/2 mths, until the babies arrived prematurely. I loved every minute of it. I was having twins.

Its no secret that I essentially became a single mother after the babies were born. Three children, all under the age of two. I can remember thinking I would never sleep again. There were days that they all cried so much I thought their lungs would just give out. Unless mine did first, since I was crying right along with them. I remember calling my dad one day, and he came to get Brittany after he got off of work. I met him at the door, holding babies, in pjs that I had been wearing for a couple of days. They were covered in milk sewage from various ends of my offspring. As  was my hair, back, big toe.... projectile vomiting even from a newborn is a force of nature in its self. He took Brittany, only after getting me to promise him that I would shower. My mom came as often as she could. She was usually the only one that could get Breanna to stop crying, and eat...and then sleep. I was exhausted, and overwhelmed, and blissfully happy. Motherhood was all I had ever wanted.

Over the years, being the mother to twins has given me a front row seat at God's grace. I cannot count the number of times that I have cried out for the strength, the energy, to just make it 30 more minutes until bedtime. Times that I have begged God to lend me His ears because mine just couldn't absorb any more words from tiny, precious mouths. I've folded miles of diapers, teeny socks, ball uniforms until I was cross-eyed...all the while, wondering if it had a bit of worth in all of eternity. And what I have found, and would pass on to all the mamas still in those sleepless years, is that....yes. Yes. In all of eternity, it does matter. God has given me the grace, the strength, the patience every time I've needed it. I saw His hand, the night we came home from church, and itty bitty ask "Mommy, that stuff at church about Jesus coming back some day, and we don't know when it might be...I just need to know one thing. Is it true? Because if it is, I need to pray and get Him in my heart." That night, it was a different kind of tears that fell. More tears fell when I watched my dad baptize both twins. I've heard them share their faith with friends, with strangers, without a second thought. I see a bond between my daughters that overwhelms me at times. They fight. Never think they don't. But I would dare anyone to try to come between them. They still exhaust me. And overwhelm me. And make me cry. But more often than not, the tears are from laughter. My daughters have brought so much joy, and humor to our world. I am seeing glimpses of the women that God is molding them into. And I know the ride is far from over....and I am humbled that He would allow me to be a part of the journey. Happy Birthday, my babies. You make every day worth getting out of bed....you also make getting out of bed very necessary...I love you, and I adore being your mother.

May God have mercy on "We the People".....

If our Founding Fathers could send us a 'tweet', or a text, or post on our walls.....

@JohnAdams1814: Abigail-But a Constitution of Government once changed from Freedom, can never be restored. Liberty, once lost, is lost forever.
@BenFrank1768: Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy.
@TJefferson1823: A rigid economy of the public contributions and absolute interdiction of all useless expenses will go far towards keeping the government honest and unoppressive.

George Washington-Alexander Hamilton
But if we are to be told by a foreign Power...what we shall do, and what we shall not do, we have Independence yet to seek, and have contended hitherto for very little.
May 8,1796        Like      Comment      Share

John Adams-Thomas Jefferson
As long as Property exists, it will accumulate in Individuals and Families. As long as Marriage exists, Knowledge, Property, and Influence will accumulate in Families.
July 16, 1814       Like      Comment       Share
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Thomas Jefferson.....Praying for you and Abby, man..... 18 min ago

@BenFrank1758: He that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing.
@TJefferson1789: But with respect to future debt; would it not be wise and just for that nation to declare in the constituition they are forming that neither the legislature, nor the nation itself can validly contract more debt, than they may pay within their own age, or within the term of 19 years.
@BenFrank1743: How many observe Christ's birth-day! How few, his precepts! O! 'tis easier to keep Holidays than Commandments.


Defense of the Consitutions          Like
John Adams - Defense of the Consitiutions
Children should be educated and instructed in the principles of freedom.
1787        Like         Comment         Share

Farewell Address            Like
George Washington - Farewell Address
Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.
September 19, 1796          Like          Comment        Share

@JohnAdams1770:Human government is more or less perfect as it approaches nearer or diverges farther from the imitation of this perfect plan of divine and moral government.


May God have mercy on "We the People" for what we've done with the nation our Fathers died for.

I can bring home the bacon...fry it up in the pan....

Don't judge me. I know it was wrong. But I bet everyone has done it at least once. I know you've thought about it.  Although, I was pretty bold. Was just asking for trouble. I should have waited until no one was around. Or headed to a less travel part of the store. But I was so tired. And so rushed. And so far away form the back of the store. So I did it. Right there on Action Alley. I already had two boxes of raisins at home. I didn't need a third. So I was putting it back. I was trying to be so careful to make sure no one was watching. While I put it next to the apple juice. Or was it Velveeta? I really couldn't say. I was too busy waiting for sirens to sound. And undercover security guards to surround me. All while my image flashed across the WalMart tvs. In every store in the country. Why does that make me so nervous? They pay people to straighten the store. My actions were job security for someone. And besides, none of the employees ever knows where the merchandise is at in the store. I was just helping them to become more familiar. I'm sure that not even 15 minutes later some little old lady stopped some young clerk, wanting to know where the raisins are kept, and he was able to tell her exactly. All because of me. So why do I still feel so gulity? I blame Joyce Meyer. Always preaching about how Chrisians should be sure and return their shopping cart to the little stalls in order to be a good witness. But I do. I always return my cart. And never block the aisle while I visit. And never eat grapes while shopping. So why did that clerk look at me so rudely? And that woman shopping. Like  she always walks all  the way back across the store. And the cashier. I know she knows.  Not returning items to their proper place is minor...which is what I keep telling myself....that, and I promise to straighten 3 racks in the clothing department next time I shop....

And I think to myself....what a wonderful world....

 I've seen lots of babies this week. Lots of itty bitty, teeny tiny, brand new babies...and lots of mommies fixing to have babies. Yesterday, I was blessed to be able to hold one of them. She is the newest member of our family. And was only hours old. And so teeny, I seriously thought about putting her under my sweater and making a run for the door. Her cry sounded more like a kitten meowing than a baby crying...certainly not the hair-raising cry I remember from my Bs. I changed her diaper, swaddled her up tight, and stole all the sugar I could from her....and let my mind wander all the way home....

My first B was 5 hours old before I saw her. And because of a horrible delivery and recovery, for weeks, all I could do was hold her. And then, only if she was brought to me. I wasn't allowed to pick her up or carry her. Family had to do everything else. Seriously. She was 2 weeks old before I even changed her diaper. The twin Bs were 5 days old before I held them. They were taken to Children's Hospital immediately after being born. Their dad ask the NICU team to roll their bassinet by my bed before they left, and that glance was all there was for 5 days. Again, because of my complications-I couldn't make the 2 hour trip to see them. I thought I would lose my mind while I waited to meet my babies...

So, to hold this precious one while she was so new, and to be able to do just a little to take care of her, was such an honor. And almost overwhelming, was the emotion of holding a beginning. Her whole life is before her. And really, her parents' whole life is before them. This is the beginning. The possiblities are absolutely endless. The whole book of pages is waiting, to be written in. I think that is so exciting....she is nothing but hope, and wonder, and innocence...and potential. Her parents, her family, love her more than she will ever know. We love her parents. We are here as her story is written, to share the colors to help fill in, and shade the illustrations of her lifestory....

But what about the rest of us? What about those of us who are way more than a few hours old...is it too late for our story? Is our book all but filled in, with an ending that could be predicted by anyone?.....No. Never. If you are letting the Master Storyteller and Illustrator be the author of your story....we are told in Lamentations 3:22-23 that "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."  I've written before about this verse. It is one that I cling to on a daily basis. See, my story hasn't quite read like I planned for it to, when it is looked at on a page by page basis. But, because of who my Author is....chapter by chapter, my story reads of compassion, and mercy, and God's faithfulness. And this, this is my prayer for our family's newest member. That she will grow knowing the Master. And that His hand will freely write her story.

Twinkle, twinkle little star....

1. I wish that magically, trash cans didn't stink, toilet bowls didn't get dirty (eww), and dust bunnies didn't form.
2. I wish that I could apply bronzer without streaking in highly visible areas...
3. I wish that sarcastic comments didn't pop into my head when other people talk. Because sometimes the thoughts come out of my mouth...but then again, shouldn't someone address the stupidity in the room??
4. I wish I wasn't so cynical about human nature. Maybe then I wouldn't feel the need for so much sarcasm...
5. I wish the green tomatoes on my back porch would hurry up and turn red. I also hope that this year when I fight itty bitty for them, I win at least occasionally.
6. I wish the dog would quit eating unspeakable things in the yard. His breath is NASTY.
7. I wish yoga wasn't currently so painful that it causes me to question everything good and pure.
8. I wish I knew where in the tarnation fruit flies came from.
9. I wish I knew where tarnation was.
10. I wish I hadn't seen the man walking down the street carrying a fishing pole and a handgun. I understand the possible principle: when fishing, one may see a snake, and all snakes should be shot....but really, it just made me nervous.
11. I wish I was more successful at guarding my heart. But total isolation is, well, lonely....
12. I wish I only needed 4 hours of sleep each night. I need 8. Ask my Bs.
13. I wish those who have influenced my life knew just how much I love them,
14. I wish that just once in my life, I could wake up to a cup of coffee by my bed. It seems like that would be pretty darn close to heaven.
15. I wish I could bubble wrap my family. So nothing ever hurts them. Especially nothing that is a result of my words or actions...or anyone else's words or actions.
16. I wish I had a videotape of everything I see on Main Street. It humors me...
17. I wish that teeny tiny redheaded little girl will grow up knowing just how much I love her. I'm not even sure why I do...I just do....
18. I wish supper was being cooked right now. Without dishes being dirtied.
19. I wish changing the oil in the car was never necessary. I keep forgetting...
20. I wish I could wear a beautiful hat all day every day. Good hair days are so few and far between.
21. I wish it was June 1st...Froot Loop, this has been a long two years.
22. I wish I could get the theme song of  "The Andy Griffith Show" out of my mind. Or learn how to whistle.
23. I wish warmer weather didn't mean lizards, and worms, and frogs, and having to constantly be on guard to things eating out my eyeballs.
24. I wish I wasn't so claustrophobic. But I am. BIG TIME.
25. I wish my invitation to the Royal Wedding hadn't gotten lost in the mail. I hope the family didn't feel too snubbed.
26. I wish I would have known 18years ago what I know today. Heck, I would settle to know 5 years ago what I know today.
27. I wish I wouldn't have told myself  I was going to come up with 30 of these things.
28. I bet you wish you hadn't ever clicked on the link...there's a piece of your life you will never get back...
29. Your husband wishes you would get off facebook and come to bed already...
30. I wish everyone a Happy Evening! or Night...or Day...whenever you are reading this...

Who let the dogs out??......

It is always a cause for concern when I can hear the dogs barking the moment I step out of the car. Tonight, they were WILD. I could barely get the door opened because of their bouncing. I stepped inside, and shoved them outside. They love to go out. I just couldn't get them to focus long enough to get them out the door. It was at that point that my heart started to sink. Wrappers, and cardboard, and foil... everywhere....the little angels found the Bs Easter candy and had a HAY-DAY. Whole rabbits are gone. (white chocolate...no chance of poisoning) Laffy Taffy-swallowed whole. Or I assume. Couldn't find any in their teeth. Sweet tarts, and peeps, and heaven only knows what else. Two LARGE yellow labs on the sugar high of a lifetime...Seriously. I've never seen a dog zip around the yard or living room like these two. The female literally bounced from couch to loveseat to recliner without ever touching the floor. I called the vet. He said they would live. But to go ahead and pull out the carpet cleaner because their tummies were not going to be good sports. Suggested I give them both a dose of Pepto to ease the situation. (Have you ever tried to give an animal a dose of Pepto?? What looks like a teeny tiny bottle will somehow end up on every fabric surface in the house, down the front of your blouse, and in the vegetable crisper of the refrigerator.) So. I've taken away their food. Ran them around the yard...although my sweet little boy is still so wired that he has one ear standing STRAIGHT UP while the other on lays nicely against his head...and now we wait....to see what the rest of the night....brings us....

Be forewarned....

 I do not need any additional insurance. I, as well as my children, are covered out the wazoo. I am very happy with my credit card machine, and need no wrapping paper for this joyous holiday season. We have enough toilet paper to last us thru 24 stomach bugs, and incidently, I do not suffer from either corns or bunions. So, really, I don't need your American Podiatric Medicine endorsed medicated orthotic foot pads. (I actually have a podiatrist that I love and he even takes my insurance, so should the need arise, I'll visit him promptly).

I am not interested in providing teddy bears for our State Troopers to cuddle. I make regular donations to our boys in blue as I travel the highways. If they want to spend some of that money on cuddlies, they have my blessing. I don't need 12,000 pens with my store name imprinted on them. I spent $3 gazillion on permits, signs, business cards, etc. If my customers need to know to whom they should make out their check, I'll direct them to the appropriate place. I also do not need a 16x20 laminated sign for my restroom with instructions on how to properly wash my hands. My mother covered that when I was two.

I have no need for a 5 gallon bottle of Mother Earth Love Your Body miracle tonic. Yes, I know that just one tablespoon a day will make my hair shiny, skin glow, provide 324 essential vitamins and minerals, and increase my brain function by 212%. True, it will also serve as a drain cleaner, floor waxer, and cure my pooch's mange, but I am just going to opt to live vicariously and take my chances.

You can tell me charming, witty antidotes, threaten to hold my dog hostage, or have the Federal Credit Collection Agency on speed dial, but I still am not going to give you my checking account number, verify my social security number, or disclose my children's blood type over the phone. I survived an alcoholic, abusive marriage. You really don't scare me.

I am really content with the brick that is on both my store and my home. Crazy as it may sound, I do not want to replace it with poly resin, fiber optic, UV-tested siding. I do not have a chimney, so I don't need it swept. I realize that North Korea has the longitudinal cooridnates of my home programmed into a nuclear missle, but me and Jesus are on a first name basis, so I'll pass on the underground bomb shelter. See you on the other side. No, thank you. My Bible covers everything I need. I realize that your bible has an additional 63 books that you think I may need, but like I said. I like to live vicariously.

Yes, I am a Southern Belle. My words alone can sweeten gallons of tea. But be forewarned, if you push me, or insist on putting your supervisor on the phone so he can persuade me to purchase whatever you are selling....there is an iron fist inside the white kid leather glove. My sister and I keep a running tally of how many grown men we make cry...I am an over-worked, sleep-deprived, Type A, single mother of tweens, who is working retail during the holidays....so go ahead, be the one who pushes me over the edge...I just hope you ate your Wheaties this morning...

When you say nothing at....

 There are so many things I just don't take the time to say out loud...But they are taking up too much space in my brain. Space that, frankly, I need for other things.....



"Do you really think you are qualified to homeschool?" Not at all. Not one single day. It's the hardest thing I've taken on so far in my life. But we are managing. When I am weak, God is strong. And my children are thriving.



"Why didn't you wear makeup today?"  I don't know. I was awakened this morning by the sound of blue birds chirping merrily outside my window. Which was opened a perfect 3 3/4" to let the breeze waft thru my bedroom, bringing in the sweet fragrence of the nearby honeysuckle. Someone had already brewed the perfect cup of coffee, which was waiting next to my bed with a perfectly folded newspaper which only spoke of world peace and prosperity. When I emerged from my boudoir, I passed thru an immaculate house to rouse my precious offspring. They bounced out of bed with radiant faces and hair that was already magically perfectly coiffed for the day. "Good morning, Mother. We are so thrilled to begin a new,  and exciting day. What can we help you with this morning before we start our  fascinating studies?"  "Oh, my precious dears. I have it all completely under control. Take your time readying yourself for the day. The car will be round to pick us up in a bit to transport us to the downtown offices." 

Oh. Wait. Reality check. I woke up to the sound of the dog barfing next to my bed. I caught sight of the alarm clock across the room, laying on the floor. Must have thrown it as I turned it off. As I untagled myself from various limbs and drool (surely someday they will stay in their own beds) I dodge the upchuck to hurry the four legged creature out the back door. I hear the crash of a glass that never made it to the dishwasher last night. THe dishwasher that I forgot to run. The cat meows from the top of the kitchen counter. Coffee is not happening. That would require coffee grounds that I forgot yesterday at the store. "GET UP! GET UP!! GET UP!!!. We have to be at the store in 25 minutes. No one showers this morning. Remember that the garage door is broken and I don't know where my house key is. We'll go out the back and scale the fence. Get your jeans out of the dirty clothes and spray them with Febreeze. Hurry!!

"What's for lunch/dinner/breakfast 3 weeks from now?" This one gets me every time...and my Bs know it. I have been a mother for 4,954 days. Not one single day in all those days have my children missed a meal. Rarely have they missed a snack. And yet, on a regular (daily) basis, do they need reassurance that the next meal is in fact coming. My mother has suggested that I put each of them in charge of different meals...remove the monkey from my back. I think this is a fantastic idea. The problem...I really like being in control. Really. But that is a whole other note for a whole other day.

"Are you ever going to marry again?" Sorry. Not that kind of a note.

"Why do you have so many pets?" I do not know. I mean, sure, I can explain the reason and purpose behind each one. But collectively-pure insanity on my part. I have finally taught my children not to hover outside my bedroom door, waiting for me to emerge...but I have yet to train the menagerie of four legged critters. And while they wait, they drool. Yuck.


 which brings us to the next most common question..."Why did you stay in your room so long? What were you doing?" Well, it was a conference meeting. All 23 of my personalities showed up, and frankly it takes some time to get organized. Rarely can we agree on a seating chart-everyone wants to be in charge (except that weird one that just sits and twirls her hair), and we were trying to decide what is actually for lunch-try taking a vote with that crew...

Are you kidding me?? Ummm, self-employed, single mother of 2 tweens and a teen....I was laying on my bed with a cold washcloth...wondering if China might actually be on to something....Oh give me a break. You know every single one of you reading this has entertained the idea of state mandated sterilization.

"Are you very close to your sister?" No jokes, no sarcasm. She is my next breath...always. I would rather give up a limb-or limbs- than my sister. Next to introducing us to Christ, giving us each other is in my opinion, the single most successful thing my parents have done. They taught us to love each other, to respect each other, to cherish. If I can pass the same legacy to my girls...they will make it thru life just fine. "Did the two of you fight growing up?" Rarely. But when we did, she was always in the wrong, and I always won....That's right.... Its my note.

Speak life to your children....

My scissors are lost. I know that means nothing to anyone reading this, but for me...it is heartbreaking. Like tears gushing, boo hoo heartbreaking. And I'm not a pretty crier. AT ALL. These aren't just any scissors. They are my sewing scissors that my parents bought me when I was 13. I remember the night. We were at WalMart, (remember when WM used to be where Atwoods is now?) getting my sewing project supplies for home ec. There was a cheap pair, and a more expensive pair. My mom and I had been doing the choosing. But when we were looking at scissors, Dad spoke up. He said to get the more expensive pair. That I was ready for them. Mom agreed. For me, it was a moment that I have never forgotten. It was a moment of recognizing that my parents believed in me. That they thought I deserved the more expensive pair. That I would put them to good use. See, sewing was a big deal at our house. My mom sewed everything we wore. Things my grandmothers wore. Things friends wore. She sewed every day. My sister and I had to learn to sew. To prove that we weren't being ask to do the impossible, my dad also learned to sew. He made a red shirt. Wearing his suede tool belt, using a Tsquare and carpenter's pencil to mark seams. The shirt turned out perfectly. And our family smiles alot over the image of dad working. So we learned to sew...being given the nicer pair of scissors meant my parents believed that I could continue to learn to do something that I equated with being an excellent wife and mother....

I sewed my way through high school. Sewing for myself, my sister, my friends...being given a sewing machine one year for a gift, when I thought I was going to be given a diamond ring. The ring came the next day, and I began sewing for my new home. I went away to school...and studied how to sew in college...still using the scissors my parents had bought me when I was 13. With every project, every assignment that seemed impossible, I remembered the words "She's ready for the better ones." And even though my parents were 8 hours away, I knew they believed in me. And so I measured. And cut. And sewed. And in time, I earned the respect of some tough professors. And was given an opportunity to work for a designer...and was able to use my scissors while sewing to clothe the First Lady of Louisiana. And I continued to sew for my family...work shirts, and Sunday dresses, and napkins, and pillows, quilts that my grandmother helped me piece... turned into tiny onesies, and blankets....for a child that was never born...a child that would be 16 years old this Mother's Day...the scissors sat untouched for a while...but were eventually picked up again, and sewing continued...for three precious girls... In time, more heartache came. And on tough days, I would lose myself in my sewing projects. My sewing has always been so therapeutic for me. So comforting. And always, a reminder that I was holding the words of my parents..."She's ready"

I know I've rambled...down my memory lane, and for those of you still with me, I do have a point...my parents had no idea that night in WalMart that the words they were speaking were going to be the words that have sounded in my mind over and over and over again through my life. And so many times, when I wanted to give up, and give in, I held in my hand tangible proof that they believed in me. Parents-our words to our kids matter. Always. We feed their dreams. We mold and create who they become. I've been reading alot in James lately. We are instructed throughout the Bible, but particularly in James, to gain control of our tongue. With it we speak either life or death. Speak life over your children. You have no way of knowing what the world is going to throw at them as they grow. Plant seeds of faith that will carry them over the hard spots. Let them know that you believe in them. Even when it seems like nothing more than a pair of scissors from WalMart.

Evidently...

Evidently, the dog has found an exit route from the back yard...

Evidently, my merchandise will be here sometime soon...after it's unplanned trip to Japan. It is currently being detained at customs, making sure nothing glows....


Evidently, banging the cell phone on the counter doesn't break it....it also doesn't make the display panel work, either....


Evidently, the nice lady did get my order correct at the drive thru....it's just in a different container....but for the record, most of my body can in fact fit through the window at the local Taco Bell....

Evidently, I look almost 30 in my outfit....and for some reason, my Bs thought that was a compliment.....

Evidently, I still had bronzer on my hands when I touched up my pedicure....so now it looks like I've been playing in the dirt....but its all going to be okay, because I just got an email as to the details of Kate Middleton's beauty routine....as it turns out, I'm just 12 steps away from finding my Prince Charming...

Evidently, there is a sales rep holed up in the World Trade Center who thinks I am stupid enough to order some of his precious baby clothes, that evidently every other store blows out of their store, and he can't believe I haven't already gotten on board with....yet he doesn't want to quote me a price...I checked my driver's license...I"m waaayy over 30... not buying what I don't know the price of....

Evidently, a spider fell from the ceiling and almost ate my daughter's eyeballs this morning...good grief...everyone knows that the only creatures that can in fact eat your eyeballs are frogs, lizards, and of course...dead fish floating in the fish tank...come on, girls. Toughen up...

Evidently, I have super powers to know exactly what the weather is going to be like on Easter....but to be safe, everyone should buy both a cool weather and warm weather ensemble...just in case my powers fail me....

Evidently, the cat has tape worms....I'll save you the specifics....

Evidently, I'm just not believing hard enough...otherwise, my day would be going just peachy...thank you, Mrs. Meyer... I knew there was some sure fire formula out there that I just wasn't tapping into....

If I die young, bury me in Talbots...a note to my sister....

I know its morbid, and weird, but there are just certain necessities I think about when I'm out and about....And what kind of Southern Belle would I be if I didn't plan for every possible contingency?

Sissy,
You know I plan to live a very long time. Genetics is certainly on the side of longevity in our family. However, I don't want you to be overwhelmed by the details should the unthinkable happen....


1. Because I have almost successfully rectified the Peanut Butter Fudge Debacle of 2009, we are now once again the same size. For the funeral, put me in my black Talbots dress. It won't zip all the way up, but the zipper is in the back so it won't matter. Just please, make sure the size 4 tag peaks out from the top. Don't let mom tuck it in. As soon as the service is over, you can have the dress. And the others in my closet.

2. Nothing less than the red peep toe heels. I may be cold, but I can still rock the heel. My tan is okay right now on my legs, but you might have to touch up my upper arms. Don't let me look streaky.
3. Fake pearls. The attorney knows what to do with the real ones.
4. You know I'm serious about my eyeliner. Get my market buddy to help you. She's had to do my makeup plenty of times when I was sick from a migraine. No trailer park hair. If the two of you are too upset to do it right, put me in my tortise shell Jackie O sunglasses.
5. No tacky flowers. Seriously.
6. Mom's going to freak when she sees my fridge. Spare her what you can.
7. The box in the back of my closet....destroy it....
8. The journals in the nightstand drawer....keep them...should anyone (esp. the Froot Loops) try to publish anything, all you need for blackmail is in there. Do what you have to in order to prevent the bismirchment of the family name.
9. There have been those that have told me over the years that should the opportunity ever appear, they would avenge my misfortunes. There is a bank account to pay their court fees should that happen. Use what you need.
10. Regardless of what people may think, I have very few regrets. I have lived and loved. Don't let anyone pity me. I am happier now than I have been in a long time. Make sure the Bs find love. Don't let them be scared.
11. Exception: The Fiasco of '07. (Which led to the Debacle of '09.) My shining moment of stupidity. Should any of my Bs try to repeat the mistakes of their mother, I have made arrangements with a convent in the Dominican Republic. Their passports and a one-way ticket are in the safe deposit box. I've already filled out the paperwork.
12. Make sure Brittany gets gravy on a regular basis. Breanna likes Trailer Park Danishes, and Brookie needs meat cooked on the grill. Have coffee with Dad, and take Mom to look at fabric.
13. Don't waste the fact that so many think we look alike. Haunt those that need to be haunted. Let Brian get creative. Make videos, tape recordings, whatever. Don't disappoint me. Or I will haunt you.
14. Tipper is buried to the left of the front porch. If you sell the house, dig her up and take her with you. I mean it.
15. I expect some good music at the funeral. Hey Baby for starters. Throw in some Roger M, and wrap it up with how every rose has a thorn or two. Mix it up with some Amazing Grace and talk about the Rugged Cross...make sure everybody knows who Jesus is. And that I'm with Him.

Girls, I think we were just slurred...

"She looks like you... Kinda chuffy."
""She's like you....she can't hold on to a man"
"She doesn't stay home like you do. She works really hard every day."

My grandma calls it being slurred. You know the comments. The ones that are made to your face, delivered in sugared sweetness (I'm talking Southern iced tea sweet), that leave you with your head tilted and mouth hanging open, knowing... you were just slurred. Sometimes the comment is one that in any other context, would be fine. But given the actual conversation that it took place in....yep. A slur.

Today has been one of those days that it seems like I've accumlated several slurs. This isn't anything new. It comes with working with the public.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you lost all your fashion sense."
"Oh my gosh. What's wrong with you? Are you sick or something??" (umm, no. This is just me without makeup.)
"I guess they just feel sorry for you and your girls. After all. So and so could shop anywhere."


Really, its not the 'slur' that matters. I have no control of what someone says or thinks about me. What I can control is my reaction. This has been one of the biggest challenges for me since I started homeschooling. My girls are at my store almost all day. They see and hear almost everything that goes on....which includes my response and attitude after being slurred. I try to let the comments be opportunities for "teachable moments". Most days I am able to stay fairly objective. Some days my feelings get hurt. Some days, I get down right mad. I try to let my Bs see all of this, because every day, I am called to be Christ-like...every day, I have set before me the example that Christ gave, the fact that in spite of everything put upon Him, He did not sin. Am I without sin? Not one single day. Can I be humble and show grace even in unlovable circumstances?... If I've taken the time that morning to put on my armor....

And that's the kicker. Taking the time each morning to put on my armor. The breastplate of righteousness. The belt of truth (I constantly have to remind myself that it is who I am in Christ that matters)...the sword of the Word, the shield of faith....those things don't just automatically jump on me each morning. I have to sit down and gather them-at my Father's feet. Spend time in His Word. In prayer. In praise. I'm not a morning person. I need time to wake up. I need to re-caffinate...clear the cobwebs of sleep. But if I don't check in with my Father, its guaranteed...that first slur, first bump in the day...The day is going to turn into what my Bs call a "red-neck" day. No, not a Red Neck like you see at the WalMart, but a true red-neck day. My neck gets red when I get mad, or stressed, or really anxious. And so even if I keep my Southern grace in front of a difficult customer, my girls know that inside, I've lost my cool. (and I know that as soon as I calm down, they are going to tease me about my neck) And my Father knows. He sees my heart. Every minute of every day. And that by getting my feelings hurt, or getting angry, I didn't do the one thing that He ask me to do each day. Shine His Light. That's all He wants. A heart for Him that will reflect Him. Did I fail today? Miserably. Will He let me start over tomorrow? Absolutely. But I have to check in at His throne before I head out the door.

Protecting my virtue...or why I still sleep with a nightlight...

 I had only been asleep for a little bit. Once again, I had stayed up too late watching TV. Something woke me. A B? No, they just climb into bed, trying their best not to wake me, for fear that I will send them back to their room. I scanned the room, relying on the moonlight thru the window to show me what was wrong. There he was. The man standing at the foot of my bed. So many thoughts flashed thru my head at once. Who was this?.... Does he have a weapon?...... Why aren't the dogs barking?..... Are the Bs ok?........He's right there. 911 will never be fast enough.....I knew what I had to do. Hit him low, hit him hard, with....my pillow. (side note: I now know why Grandma sleeps with a baseball bat close by) He barely flinched. I wish he would say something. Anything. So I would know why he was there. The thoughts continued as I prepared for the next pillow attack. Ding-dang dogs. See if I ever feed you again. If I survive this, you're history....Lord, please don't let the girls walk in....Why...What?... Why is he wearing my black hat....and my red wool coat.....The Attack of the Johnson Co Cross Dresser???...My eyes started to adjust to the dark...mental note: next time, put my stuff away properly. The bedpost is neither a coat nor hat rack. Stupid massive 4-poster bed that I insisted on....

In my world...

They had messed up. Their behavior was inexcusable, and unacceptable. And as mommy, it was my duty to address it. Which I was doing a valiant job of. Full blown lecture. Not quite yelling, but certainly being heard. I had ranted for several minutes (all without taking a breath. Parents, you know the type of rant of which I speak). And then I made my fatal error...I asked the question "WHAT WORLD ARE YOU LIVING IN?????"

And almost immediately, in unison, two sweet little twin voices...."In our world, everyone is a pony. And eats rainbows, and poops butterflies".......

Lecture was over. I don't even remember now what they did wrong in the first place.