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.