Archives for 2011

What if we all slowed down?

December 7, 2011 by Kelli

We wandered through the brush, the bristled fronds scraping against our bare arms. December 7 and in shorts. This is the things dreams are made of.

We stopped and peered inside the little windows and I let my mind wander. Who were they that lived there then? What sounds filled their homes in a time when the whirring of electronics was not yet realized? When televisions didn’t dictate every thought and movement? Did they, too, feel the rushing passage of time – they who had no option of jumping in the car and buzzing to this meeting or that event?

As the quiet moments ticked away the evening hours and their hands, weary from a long day’s labor, sat still in their laps, were they able to drink the moments in? Or did those mothers, like me, find themselves each night wondering what happened and how did the day blur by in a blink?

One day older.

Did those mothers nestle their babes each night and wish they could freeze time for a brief moment just so they had the opportunity to drink it all in? Did those same mothers also have some nights when the darkness brought a sense of sweet relief as the bustle and the energy finally stopped and they had a few brief moments of peace before it all started up again?

I imagine the mothers were very much like me in this regard. Equal parts sad to see the days fly by and anxious for the peace the nighttime brings. Perhaps even more so as the burden they shouldered was far greater than mine. Their days were filled with much more labor and with far fewer luxeries.

As we walked into the tiny house, the tour guide met us with twinkling eyes, the lines in his face evidence of a life well lived. With a gentle smile, he guided us through each room, his aging voice filled with awe, wonder and appreciation. He understood simpler times and I heard the longing in his words as he pointed out the small tools and toys. The days of quiet are not far removed from his mind.

I love the quiet, too. Not setting up cable has been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. Evenings are filled with quiet togetherness. Sitting on the floor, rolling the ball to one another. Walks around the block. Ice cream on the lanai. Together without the noise. It’s a step toward the simpler times.

What if we all slowed down just a little bit? What if we all spent a little less time watching the lives of others and living our own? What if we all cut out just a few things so that the precious moments could at least be soaked in a bit before zipping past? What if we just stopped for awhile?

I confess, the stopping and soaking in is hard for me. It’s really, really hard. There is so much to be done and the stopping feels like a halt in progress. But is it? When we stop, sit, listen and wait – does this stagnate us or, perhaps, move us forward still but in a deeper and more fulfilled manner?

As we pulled out of the gravel driveway, I turned off the radio and rolled down the windows. This is a big deal for me. I’m not a “wind in her hair” kind of gal. I find it annoying and loud. But today, instead, I listened to the wind whipping through the car, the echoes of movement passing through. I breathed deep the salty air and glanced at the ocean just across the street. I drove the speed limit, not pushing my speed but instead taking the time to enjoy the journey.

And they enjoyed, too. We talked about the seagulls and the graceful way they danced on the wind. The discussed what we would do if each of us were a bird. How would the world look from the sky?

Even the (smokin’ hot) minivan has the potential to slow down.

What if we all just took the time?

What would life look like and how would it be different?

All photos taken during today’s field trip to Heritage Village in Largo, Florida.

Filed Under: Family, Heritage, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: Life, Motherhood, slowing down, thoughts

Just me and my thoughts

December 5, 2011 by Kelli

The title of this post alone should scare you all. I am welcoming you into my thoughts?

Frightening.

Because the truth is, I can go from thinking of something super brilliant and kinda deep to thinking up alternate lyrics to popular songs in the same breath. “So, Kelli. What ARE your favorite made up alternate lyrics?” I’m so glad you asked!

Sung to the tune of Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s “Rock Your Body”

I’m gonna wash your body

Make it clean

Scrub with me

No lie, I sang this to the kids every time I bathed them and they ALL sing it now when they pick up a bar of soap. It. is. awesome.

So yeah…that’s the kind of stuff that floats through my head.

Okaaaaay, then. Let’s bring this crazy train on in to the station, shall we?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas these last few weeks. I’m wrestling through my desire to teach my kids to really, truly embrace the power of this Christmas season without completely turning away from the magic of gift giving and receiving. There have been a lot of really wonderful blog posts written lately on the topic and I’m awed at how many people have given up gifts altogether on Christmas, choosing instead to focus on the true meaning behind why we celebrate this holiday.

I’ll be honest. I’m not there and I’m okay with that.

Because I really love the moment my children walk around the corner and see the twinkling lights and the gifts and the excitement leading up to that magical moment. And I think we can still enjoy that tradition without losing ourselves to the marketing mayhem that Christmas has become.

Truthfully, the last few years we have pulled back significantly on how much “stuff” we give our kids. Because they don’t need all the stuff. Last year we gave fewer gifts and tried to make them more meaningful and useful. And we are pulling back even more drastically this year.

There are other things we plan to do with the kids this year to keep the focus of Christmas outward and not inward. And I may or may not share what those things are. I am trying to keep some things private as a way to preserve the traditions, memories and even acts themselves as sacred between us, our children and the God we serve. It’s a balance.

I can tell you this, though. As the kids and I discussed the way that Christmas would change a bit this year, I mentioned today that we would be spending less on one another and more on others. I was immediately met with disappointed stares and protests and for a brief second, my heart sank. Perhaps we had gone wrong all these years if my children were going to pitch a small fit over receiving fewer toys. Then Tia spoke.

“But Mom,” she said, her eyes big and round. “I really, really wanted to get you a special present this year!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sloan said. “I had a plan for exactly what I wanted to get you.”

*tears* *hugs*

Then I promised them a pony.

I thanked them for thinking of me and not themselves and told them I would be honored to receive gifts from them, but that I wanted them to spend more time, energy and money on gifts for people who are in need than on me.

Our nativity scene usually includes Santa, Luke Skywalker, Moses, a Construction Worker and on occasion C-3PO likes to make an appearance.

I won’t tell my children they can’t buy me a gift. (I think they’re going to buy me Peppermint Mocha Coffee Creamer – Mercy, I am loved). I will, however, encourage them to think outside the box on how we can give to others. I loved some of the ideas in this post – particularly the suggestion of giving children a sum of money and allowing them to use it however they want, as long as it’s for someone in need.

I am not opposed to giving gifts at Christmas, personally. It’s not something that I feel we need to cut out entirely. I am, however, finding myself more and more drawn to celebrating more simply, with the traditions surrounding the gifts and not the other way around. I don’t have a problem with my kids believing in Santa because we don’t make him the reason for the season. I don’t play the Santa card to encite good behavior (mortifying) and I read the story of the real Saint Nicholas every single year so that they know and understand the historical significance of who he was. Santa gets a bit part in our the Christmas celebrations in our home. And I don’t mind that.

These are things that I, personally, don’t sweat. Because I don’t let them get out of hand. I am, however, pondering and thinking and praying over exactly how Christmas will look for us this year – how we will incorporate gift giving and receiving into our holiday in a way that is meaningful and precious. Rest assured, though, that no matter what, Christmas will still be magical and filled with wonder. How could it not be so?

The Lord is Come.

Magical, indeed.

How do you keep your focus during the holidays? Any plans to help your kids think outside the box this year? I’d love to hear what others are doing!

Filed Under: Christmas, faith, Family, Holidays, Random Tagged With: Celebrating Christmas, faith, Giving and Receiving, Random, Stuff I think about

Just Call Me Grandma

December 4, 2011 by Kelli

“You are definately having trouble converging,” he said pulling the spidery metal contraption off my face. “And you’re a bit nearsighted.”

And I was all, “Um…excuse me, what?”

SIT DOWN!

Try taking three kids to the optometrist and NOT sounding like you have Tourette’s. Try it. I dare you.

*sigh*

I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.

For the past couple of years I have had difficulty focusing when I read. My eyes feel tired and the words on the page actually seem to move around. The last two months have been terrible, though, and I finally decided that I should, perhaps, go see someone about the swimming words. Because either I was going crazy and words really were moving around, or something wasn’t quite right with my eyes.

I also made an appointment for Tia to have her eyes checked. Two birds – one stone. The problem is I had to bring along the other two birds and they weren’t happy about it. At all. Vocally unhappy.

*eye roll*

So we piled into the opteometrist’s office and Tia hopped up in the chair and began her exam. The first time she had her eyes tested, she didn’t know most of her alphabet so I was never really sure if her eyes were tested properly. Turns out, they were. Her eyesight hasn’t improved. But her command of the English Alphabet is masterful.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

So is Landon’s, by the way. Because every time the doctor flashed a letter up on the wall he would blurt it out, much to the doc’s consternation. Finally, Tia finished and it was my turn in the hot seat. At this point, the boys were reaching the melting point. I hissed a couple of warnings, then settled into the chair as the doctor lowered his space-age contraption. Looking through the doo-dad’s on my face I saw not only the letters flashing on the wall, but also my children throwing down a serious wrestling match on the office floor. It was all kiddie WWF and I was mortified.

“I can see you,” I said and the three froze, their eyes locked on the goggles nestled over my eyes. “Sit. Down. Puh-lease,” I said through clenched teeth and the doctor chuckled in my ear.

“So when was your last eye exam?” he asked.

“Uh…gosh, I don’t know. I guess maybe in high school?”

High school was a long time ago.

So after he ran his little tests and gave me the skinny on my not so stellar eye sight, he dilated my eyes and I headed out to the waiting area with my kids still wrestling on the floor behind me. Then things got a little dicey. The doctor assured me that the dilation would not affect my ability to drive, but within minutes I couldn’t see a blasted thing. Nothing but a blur.

I called my husband, explained to him my dilemma and asked if he was nearby. His reponse?

Laughter.

“You need glasses?!” he howled. “That means you’re getting old.”

And I had no come back because dang it he seemed to be right. Some people are born with poor eyesight. It’s genetic and there’s nothing they can do about it. And that’s okay. But some people, like myself, are naturally gifted with good eyesight. I’ve always been 20/20. So the fact that my eyes are no longer able to focus the way they once could is merely evidence of the fact that I’m not as young as I once was.

I’m not a spring chicken anymore, people. I need glasses to read. Reading glasses!

He prescribed bifocals, for the love of Pete!

He also gave me a second prescription specifically for when I’m working at the computer. He suggested I start with that one and if I felt like I needed something stronger he could fill the bifocal prescription at a later date.

My grandparents wore bifocals…on little chains around their necks.

Bifocals!

It was a little traumatizing, my friends. I have to be honest. My eyes are failing me. But upon thinking it over the last couple of days, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t really blame my age. Nah. It’s not that I’m getting old at all!

It’s the kids! I blame them.

Three pregnancies and my feet didn’t grow at all. They’re the same size they’ve been since junior high when I galumped around like Marmaduke for two years before my body caught up to my feet. But, clearly, my eyes were terribly affected by pregnancy hormones. They have been irreversibly damaged!

I have pregnancy eyes.

And I’m sticking to that story. Don’t try to tell me that’s not the case. I’m not old. I’m a MOM.

I went back to the doctor’s office the next day to pick out my glasses. I couldn’t get them the day of the appointment due to the dilation and the fact that I couldn’t see anything at all. I didn’t want to end up paying an arm and a leg only to find out later I had blindly picked out a pair of glasses with a tiny picture of Justin Bieber on the middle of the frame.

We were at the office inside ~~the Holy Land~~ Target, thankfully, so the kids and I walked around until my eyes cleared enough for me to feel confident driving home.

And you better believe I picked out the coolest looking pair of glasses I could find. Think sexy secretary. Because I’m not old, dangit. I’m not. I’m just…uh…

*sigh*

Whatever. Just call me Grandma from now on, m’kay?

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: Age, Eyesight, glasses, Mama's getting old

The Brazen Laver

November 30, 2011 by Kelli

“You shall also make a laver of bronze, with its base of bronze for washing; and you shall put it between the tent of meeting and the altar…” Exodus 30:18

I brought him home from the hospital, his hair aglow in the soft afternoon light. Looking at him, the sleeping cherub with the bowtie mouth, I stood in awe. I didn’t know he would break my heart. I didn’t know he would turn my life over and upside down with a love so intense and blinding I would sometimes find it hard to breathe.

I didn’t know that he, and the two others that followed him, would be the brazen laver in which every ounce of my dirt would be revealed.

Of course the God of the Universe had a reason for His command that Moses should place a laver of bronze between the tent of meeting and the altar. As the priests dipped their hands and feet into the cool water, they were forced to wash away the dirt that prevented them from entering the Holy of Holies cleansed.

One can’t approach the altar with dirt stained hands.

Parenting requires that we gaze intently into the laver, all the dirt revealed in the mirrored waters of our children’s actions; their words, their laughter, their tears and fears, their sin all reflecting a small piece of us. I tried to ignore the intensity of this gaze for a long time. With the veil torn and the Holy of Holies available to me, I attempted to merely dust my hands off and approach the altar with a dangerous sense of entitlement.

Grace allows me to be here, I thought. So I will come without so much of a glance into the mirror.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me a child so much like myself that I found myself stumbling to my knees.

“I can’t do it!” I cried. “I am incapable of parenting him!”

Drama much?

And in the tumble and stumble of utter exasperation, I saw…I looked. The brazen laver, always there standing between me and the Holy of Holies, but rarely approached with any sense of humility.

In the looking it was there that I saw the dirt and the grime that had hindered my communion with my children and, more devastatingly, with the One who gave them to me. With trembling hands, I dipped my fingers into the cold.

It was equal parts fiery pain and refreshingly cool. A washing of Grace. A hope for restoration. Face to face with the parts of myself that were so easily reflected in my child, I realized I had been blaming him for my dirt. I had been trying to wash him clean with mud cake fingers.

That hurt.

But after the gaze inside the mirror and the washing clean of my selfish, tainted heart, I found myself finally, fully approaching Him. I stood inside the Holy of Holies.

Me.

The one who left the waters blackened with filth. I am permitted to stand before Him. What love is this that desires and accepts communion with me? Who am I, that the God of the Universe would be mindful of me?

I see my dirt much more clearly these days, though if I’m honest, I would tell you I am often tempted to pass right by the laver before moving into communion. I don’t like to see my tainted reflection.

But then I look at their faces, each one bearing the beauty of His mark. And my heart aches to usher them into the Holy of Holies, to see them bowed low before the altar, clean and whole.

It starts with me. They are my reflection.

And they are His.

Click the play button to hear one of my favorite songs of all time. At around 4:38 start listening closely to the lyrics. You will get goosebumps, I promise.

My Tribute/Glory To The Father/It Is Finished (Album Version)

Image Credit

Filed Under: faith, Family, Motherhood Tagged With: Brazen Laver, faith, Motherhood

The Doctor is In

November 29, 2011 by Kelli

First, let me start off by saying I thought up all manner of cheesy titles for this post involving doctors. I finally settled on this one – the most cheesy and least inappropriate of them all.

Disclaimer #2: I really try hard not to push a lot of products on you all over here. I’ve never been a big fan of product pitches myself so, for the most part, I aim to not recommend or talk about a product unless it’s something I really love and feel would be beneficial to you all.

With that said, when the Rug Doctor contacted me several weeks ago and asked if I would be interested in coming to St. Louis to learn more about their product, I initially said no. To be painfully honest, I simply didn’t care about the Rug Doctor. However, when they sweetened the deal by offering to fly the kids up with me, I decided to jump on board, not because I had a sudden change of heart but because I wanted to go back home for a visit.

And I really struggled with this decision. It was a gamble of integrity and I wondered if I’d made the right choice. Sure I got to go home, but I also had to write about a product now that I knew nothing about. What if I hated it? And worse yet, what if my readers felt duped and used? All because I wanted a free trip to St. Louis.

After arriving, I set the kids up with sitters in our hotel room and I joined the Rug Doctor team and several other bloggers on a tour of the Fenton factory where Rug Doctor develops, tests and assembles their product. And it was here that I got my first real glimpse at the Rug Doctor and the quality of the product.

From the Rug Doctor website: From its beginning, Rug Doctor has serviced both the professional and the Do-It-Yourself carpet cleaning market through the manufacture, sale, and service of carpet cleaning products and machines.

During the factory tour, we had the opportunity to see scientists testing and developing the carpet cleaning solutions with the intent of creating a superior product that truly does what they claim it does. Rug Doctor’s products are made with a specific ph range that is effective for deep cleaning without damaging the fibers of your carpets or upholstry. If a batch of product does not test to standards it is thrown out and they begin again. Quality is of the utmost importance and the employees took great pride in that.

We were given the opportunity to speak with a number of different people from the head of the company to the head engineer in charge of building, testing and improving the features of the carpet cleaning machine. And I actually found the whole thing very interesting. It was nice to see a company take pride in who they were and what they offered.

At the end of the day, Rug Doctor informed us that we would each receive a Rug Doctor machine and a box of product so that we could try out it on our own carpets. I must confess, this actually excited me a little. The people that owned the house before us had animals and they weren’t big on the whole cleaning thing so our carpets are nasty. Not to mention the fact that the Rug Doctor can also be used to clean upholstry, area rugs and cars. Did you hear that?

IT ACTUALLY HAS THE POTENTIAL TO MAKE MY MINIVAN HOT FROM THE INSIDE. That mysterious brown stain in the back? GONE!

I have used my Rug Doctor in several places around the house and I can honestly tell you that I no longer question my integrity for recommending this product to you. It is, no doubt, amazing. Don’t believe me? Check out this picture:

People of the world, that is a picture of the water that came out of my machine after I used the Rug Doctor on my couch. MY COUCH! The place where guests sit when they come to visit. This is what it was hiding.

Horrifying.

I have also used the Rug Doctor on the kid’s mattresses after bed wetting and it lifted the stain and odor out immediately. The only stain I haven’t been able to get out is the bright blue one on my office floor, which occurred when I dropped the paint brush while painting the room. So let the record show that the Rug Doctor can’t correct stupidity.

I can now honestly tell you that I love my Rug Doctor machine. It is absolutely worth both your time and your money to rent and use one. I plan on using it on every piece of fabric in my house and I am oddly excited about that. It was extremely easy to use and it absolutely did what they claimed it would do – deep cleaned my carpets and couch without damaging the fibers.

The best part of all this is you don’t have to actually own a Rug Doctor to use one. You can rent one at grocery stores across the nation for anywhere from $20-$32 for a 24-hour period. Add in the cost of product and you’re looking at no more than $50 for the opportunity to deep clean everything in your house. The Rug Doctor machines are serviced regularly and are quick and easy to rent, use and return. For more information about what Rug Doctor can do for your carpets, from removing allergens and pet dander to eliminating stains and odor, check out this page.

Disclaimer: Rug Doctor flew the kids and I up to St. Louis for the blogger outreach event. I was not compensated for this post and all opinions expressed are my own. And yes, my couch was actually that dirty.

*hangs head in shame*

Filed Under: Domesticity, Product Reviews Tagged With: Cleaning, Product Review, Rug Doctor

Lazy Monday

November 28, 2011 by Kelli

I think I’m still in a turkey coma. Actually, it’s not so much the turkey as it is the stuffing, salad, pies and petit fors that have rendered me all but useless. My brain has slowly shut down over the weekend.

It’s lovely.

This morning, as the alarm sang in my ear, begging me to leave the warm, plush covers of my bed (which I strongly believe has been sanctified by God Himself as a Holy Place), I found myself thinking over the blessings of this holiday weekend. Good food combined with amazing family made this weekend my favorite since our move. A visit from Lee’s parents was the icing on the cake.

Or the whip cream on the pie.

Or the sprinkles on the Petit Fors.

You get my drift.

We topped off a weekend of extreme laughter with a third visit to a church we really like where the message so moved me I found it difficult to breathe most of the day yesterday. And for the first time, this place we’re in felt like home. It felt as though we fit here. As if, perhaps, this thing that we did – moving our family half way across the country – was…right.

Thanksgiving, indeed. Or perhaps it’s better to say Giving Thanks. Because this morning that is what I’m doing.

Though my eyelids are heavy and I feel more exhausted than I have in a long, long time, I find myself relishing the fatigue. It’s only evidence of a weekend filled with laughter, food and love – five days of grace poured over my family. I am, indeed, Humbly Grateful.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Filed Under: Holidays, Moving, Thanksgiving Tagged With: Giving thanks, Life is grand, Thanksgiving

Humbly Grateful or Grumbly Hateful

November 23, 2011 by Kelli

As a child sitting in the back seat of my parent’s Cutlass Supreme, I remember belting out the words to this song:

Are you Humbly Grateful or Grumbly Hateful?

What’s your attitude?

Do you grumble and groan,

Or let it be known

You’re grateful for all God’s done for you?

On days when the tasks of life seem overwhelming and my first, natural and selfish tendency is to moan, I still find myself singing this song softly. And there is no greater time than the holidays to reflect on the attitude of my own heart. Am I humbly grateful or am I grumbly hateful?

What’s my attitude?

As I walk across the tiles of our home, dirt crunching beneathe each step reminding me of the need for yet another sweep, vaccuum and mop, am I humbly grateful for a tile floor on which to walk?

As I make beds yet again, and strip soiled sheets off of beds just one more time adding to the never ending pile of laundry, am I humbly grateful for the simple luxury of extra bed sheets and a machine that washes the clothes for me?

As I search the refridgerator for food to prepare for dinner only to find that I need to run to the store yet again, am I humbly grateful for the convenience of a store just down the road and the money in the bank to buy more than enough food?

As the three little people gifted to me screech through the house, arguing over invisible pies and other insanity, am I humbly grateful for the gift of my children? Am I grateful that I have been given not one but three blessings to care for, nourish and guide to adulthood?

Sometimes it is so much easier to be Grumbly Hateful.

Then I read a story like this one about Jonathon. Alone. Abandoned in the jungle. No one to love him. No hugs, no promise of a next meal. No washing machine. No one. And yet, when presented with a small package of food and gifts his eyes light bright. Humbly grateful.

This Thanksgiving, as I scrub floors and wash sinks, as I prepare food and make beds, I do so with full knowledge and understanding of just how blessed I am. Life is easy, it is grand, it is full – not because of, but rather in spite of, all the “stuff.” Yes, I’m grateful for beds and a roof and a yard and…everything.

But mostly, if I boil it down, I am grateful for Him and all He’s done for me. Humbly Grateful. I read this quote by Abraham Lincoln yesterday, taken from his Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1863 when he officially declared the last Thursday in the month of November to be a holiday of Thanks.

“The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added which are of so extraordinary a nature that they can not fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever-watchful providence of Almighty God . . . . No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy”

This often forgotten and overlooked American holiday of Thanksgiving is so full of opportunity to remember, to praise, to thank. For more information on the history of Thanksgiving, visit the website, Celebrating Holidays.

Thanksgiving is more than just remembering the ~~Pilgrims landing on Earth~~ first gathering and shared meal between the Pilgrims and Indians in 1621. From our earliest history, Thanksgiving was about acknowledging with grateful hearts the One who has given us far above and beyond all that we could ever ask or imagine.

Today I am Humbly Grateful.

Filed Under: faith, Holidays, Thanksgiving Tagged With: faith, Giving thanks, Humbly Grateful Not grumbly Hateful, Thanksgiving

My new favorite room

November 22, 2011 by Kelli

The office is nearly complete and I have fallen in love with it. It all started with the paint which I absolutely adore. It makes me extremely happy. Ridiculously happy. Giddy, even. My blue walls make me giddy.

I still have a few things to do to make it just right. I need a plant to cover up the boxes screwed to the wall, which were installed by the previous owners and need to be removed at some point. Likely just before we decide to sell this house and move again. Because that’s how we roll.

I also want something to go over the desk. I’m thinking a mirror, but I’m open to suggestions. I may get rid of the behemoth black chair, too and get something a little prettier, although that chair happens to be ten shades of comfortable so I may let her stay for that reason alone.

For those of you who are decorating savvy, I am completely open to suggestions. Do you have any ideas of ways I could make this room even better? I want people to applaud when they walk in the room. A rousing round of applause from everyone who visits. That’s what I’m aiming for.

Pictures of the happy office.

Filed Under: Domesticity, Random Tagged With: decorating, Happy Rooms, Home office

Hey Mom

November 21, 2011 by Kelli

The boy who doesn’t need sleep pulled a fast one on me the other night. What with his fuzzy head and killer smile, it’s really not that difficult for him to have me at his beck and call, but Saturday night was no less than a supreme use of his killer cuteness.

Supreme.

After keeping him up way too late the night before when we went out to dinner with friends (Friends! We have friends!), Saturday found him in desperate need of a nap almost from the moment he woke up that morning. It is his nature to fight sleep until the very last moment and fight the nap he did.

But finally, he gave up the fight and fell deep into slumber. So deep, in fact, that I could not rouse him to save my life. I picked him up. I shook him. I gave him a cup of juice, which he drank in his sleep. I sat him on the couch and he promptly fell asleep sitting up. He fought waking as much as he did sleeping, which means by the time I finally got him to move around he had had far too long of a nap.

Which led to bedtime disaster.

For over an hour he was up and down and I, who had not been so lucky to get a nap, was at the end of my rope. Using my sternest and firmest mom-voice, I let him know in no uncertain terms that should he set one more toe out of his bed he would suffer the wrath of Zombie Mommy.

He blinked twice, totally not buying my empty and, let’s face it, lame threat.

Thirty minutes later I was piled up in bed with my iPad, gloating in my victory over his near-four-year-old crazy. Lee was out for the night and I finally had a bit of peace and quiet. Until…

I saw his tiny little eyes peek around the corner. I ignored him, hopeful that maybe he would remember my threat (and yes, I actually told him that if he got out of bed I was going to turn into Zombie Mommy…oh yes I did) and abort his current mission to drive me insane. I kept my eyes on my glowing smart board until I heard a soft rustle. I looked down to see him on his stomach on the floor. He was in nothing but a t-shirt and his Buzz Lightyear Underoos and his tiny little spaceman backside stuck up in the air as he army crawled slowly across the floor.

This was better entertainment than the iPad so I continued to watch as he was completely oblivious to my stares. He crawled past the foot of the bed, his raspy breath a complete giveaway of his whereabouts. I heard him crawl to the opposite side of the bed and then it got quiet.

And I waited.

A minute later, I saw his Calvin hair slowly raise up, followed by his white eyebrows and then his saucer blue eyes. He met my stare, his gaze equal parts delicious and mischevious.

“Hey Mom,” he said, his voice all sugary. Then his face broke into a naughty little grin.

And me? Well, I completely lost it and started laughing uncontrollably. He joined in and together we cackled, me at him and him at me. Then he crawled up into bed, snuggled close and fell fast asleep.

As a recap – he disobeyed, I gave empty threats, he disobeyed again, I laughed and he ultimately got what he wanted.

That, folks, is how you get this parenting thing done. If you’re looking for any parenting advice, feel free to ask. Clearly I’ve got this mothering business down…

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, parenting

Why writing a book is a lot like life

November 17, 2011 by Kelli

I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I’m writing a book. I might have mentioned it once or twice…or a hundred times.

*cough*self-promoter*cough*

The thing is, I really believe in this book. I’ve been working on it a long time…and by long time I mean more than a decade. Oy. I have started and stopped, re-written and tossed. I have had two characters remain at the core of the novel this entire time. They are my friends…at least I think they are. They may hate me since I’ve taken so long to tell their story.

How’s that for deflection? I’ll blame my ficticious characters for my unfinished novel.

This latest draft, however, is The One. You know how people always say you’ll “just know” when you meet the person you’re going to marry? Well, I just knew the second I wrote the first sentence of this version that I had finally tapped into the core of who my characters are.

I found them.

Now, the challenge is to keep them moving and flowing forward in a cohesive manner.

Stephen King, my writing guru, says that when writing a novel you need to get it out as fast as you can. Don’t stop to make edits, don’t get hung up on the details – just write. You can go back later and fill in the holes.

I am finding this very difficult, Mr. King. I see the validity of this and want to follow this advice, but the temptation to edit is powerful. Because, you see, there are some moments in the book that are wonderful. I love how they read and the imagery is powerful and I was obviously in the zone when writing.

There are other moments in the book, however, that are worthy of no more than kindling for a chilly night. The rest of the book falls somewhere in between brilliant and suckalicious.

The problem with having worked on a book this long is I know exactly where I want my characters to go. For the most part. Some of them have already surprised me a bit. But it’s the getting there that is slowing me down. I’m so impatient to get to the exciting part – the part of the story that I know – that I’m frustrated with the journey the characters are taking to get there. I am bogged down in the details.

Life in general is full ofsimilar ups and downs, isn’t it? We have moments of excitement – first day of school, graduation, college, wedding day, birth of a child and so on…We live for these moments and anticipate them never really realizing the journey we take to get to those moments is every bit as important. Those important moments are the peaks and after every peak we must descend for a bit before we reach another milestone.

But don’t we so often find ourselves impatient in the valleys and plateaus of life? We get bored and frustrated. We lose sight of the good of right now and only long and hope for the joy of the next big moment. But we need the valleys and the plateaus. They are, in fact, what builds…character.

It’s the same with writing a book. The journey to the peak of each character’s story is so important, but in the anticipation of the big moment, I am impatient. I’m bogged down in the details and the climb to the big moment feels endless and frustrating.

I just want to get to the good part.

But if I’m willing to relax, take a deep breath and enjoy the process of each step these characters take toward their individual peaks, I may actually learn a little something along the way. And in the end, the story of their lives will reveal so much more beauty through the toil of their climb to the top.

And yes, as I wrote that sentence I totally started singing this song.

*sigh* I’ll bet Stephen King never busts out with Mily Cirus while he’s writing…