Kelli | Page 62 | Minivans Are Hot

Cry me a freakin’ river

November 7, 2010 by Kelli

I’ve told you before…I’m a cryer. Crier? Yes…I think it’s crier.

I cry a lot.

I cry easily, I cry loudly, I cry ugly. And if I try not to cry, I eventually burst like a dam spilling my ugly all over whoever is closest to me. Sometimes I laugh to cover the cry, which tends to make the cry louder and even more embarrassing. I blubbered throughout my entire wedding ceremony.

I don’t know why! Weddings are happy right?

I’m off topic. I’m reeling myself back in. I said all of the above to lead into the fact that I cried this weekend. I cried a lot, I cried hard and I cried ugly. This is the part where you all need to feel sorry for Lee, the unintended target of all my crazy.

It started Thursday afternoon when Lee came home from work to find me wrapped in two blankets in front of the fire place trying to thaw out after a frigid morning at Purina Farms on Sloan’s field trip. The conversation went something like this:

Lee: “So what’s the plan Saturday?”

Me: “Mom and Dad are keeping the kids overnight Friday night and are bringing them back Saturday around 3:00.”

Lee: “Well, I forgot to tell you, but the elders are supposed to do XXXXXXXXXXXXXX on Saturday morning and we’d really like our wives to come along.”

Me: “No! I can’t. That’s my one day off.”

And then…the dam broke. It was a face in hands, over the top, Sweet Mother of all that’s Holy cry from the gut. And here is why:

Every single second of my life right now is scheduled. From the moment my feet hit the ground to the second my head hits the pillow I have things that need to be done and places I need to be. Every single evening of the week is occupied and by Thursday afternoon I had been burning the candle at both ends for so long that I was dangerously close to burn out.

And I snapped.

Poor, sweet Lee. He didn’t even see it coming. Again my fault. I haven’t been communicating because I didn’t want to complain since I’m the one that committed to all of these responsibilities and I hadn’t really communicated to him how desperately I needed a day to myself. But being the Wonder Man that he is…and given that I freaked him out a bit with my impressive meltdown, he immediately told me not to worry about it, he’d go without me and youjuststayhomeandgetalittlerest.

Amen.

So I did and it was bliss. I edited 30 pages of the book I’m working on, did six loads of laundry, got my house relatively cleaned up and never once changed out of my pajamas. I didn’t wipe anyone’s behind or take out a single sippy cup. By the time they all came home I was completely rejuvenated.

Until…

We decided to take down the crib this weekend and put Landon in a big bed. Good grief, just writing that sentence brought tears to my eyes. I took the mattress out of the crib while Lee went to search for a tool box and I just looked down into it and literally seven and a half years of baby floated through my head.

I remembered myself a brand new mom holding Sloan on the floor next to the crib because we had just moved in and I had no place else to sit. I remembered walking in and seeing Sloan coo at his mobile hanging above the crib. I remembered walking in to find a fat, happy little boy staring at me for two years until he was replaced in the crib by a tiny, precious surprise of a baby girl.

I remembered buying new, girly bedding and excitedly putting it in the crib despite the fact that I had purchased “gender neutral” bedding the first time around. I remembered staring at that sweet baby in pink for hours, her tiny little backside up in the air as she slept. I remembered the sound of her climbing out of the crib before she was even two…

I remembered placing Landon in the crib and looking down at him, wondering if he really would be the last to sleep in it. I remembered the long nights as I rocked with him in the chair next to the crib. I remembered the dread I felt as I thought of disassembling the crib.

Then Lee came back in the room and sat down on the floor. He stopped for a minute and looked around. “This is sad,” he said.

Cue breaking dam.

I tried to laugh it off like, Hahaha- isn’t it so silly to cry over this? But I couldn’t laugh and I turned away so he wouldn’t see my ugly cry face and I sobbed those deep, soul wrenching sobs. Kind of like I’m doing right now.

Then Lee got all choked up, which made me cry more…and made me feel better. I wasn’t crazy to cry. It is sad. It was time to do this, for sure. But it was also sad. That season of life went by so quickly and I’m not ready for it to be over. Of course, it might not be. There is always the possibility that we’ll have to pull the crib back out at some point…but for right now, that’s not the case. For right now, that crib is lying in the basement, a reminder that life is flying by in solitary blinks.

Cry with me, won’t you? It feels good. And it hurts.

After a few moments of sobby sobs, I reigned myself in and handed Lee the screwdriver he needed. Of course, my tears quickly turned to laughter…or at least mild chuckles…when we realized we weren’t at all prepared with a big bed to move Landon into. We have to round up box springs, which we hadn’t even thought about when we decided to make this move.

Oh and, incidentally, who in their right mind decides to move a child out of his crib the night of daylight savings? I think we were so focused on ripping the bandaid off that we didn’t think clearly and logically through what we were doing. So for now, the boy sleeps on a mattress on the floor, which suits him just fine.

And me? I have a feeling there will be a few more tears shed over this little milestone. Ugly gopher tears. Lee – prepare yourself.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: children growing up, mom's crying, Motherhood, taking down the crib

Kids Say the Darndest Things – A New Edition

November 5, 2010 by Kelli

It’s high time I recorded another installment of Kids Say the Darndest Things because my kids have ripped out some doozies lately. Parenting is seriously entertaining…you know, when it’s not stressful.

Me: “Hey Sloan, can I throw away this ribbon?” I hold up his Dare to Stay Off Drugs ribbon from the D.A.R.E. program at school.

“No!” He exclaimed.

“Why?” I asked. “What are yo ugoing to do with it?”

“I’m going to save it and set it out in case Daddy decides to do drugs.”

At which point I almost fell over laughing.

_____________________________________________________________

For over a year Tia has been telling us how excited she is to turn five so she can climb the rock wall at the gym. A few weeks ago she had this conversation with my mom.

Mom: “Tia, you’re going to be five soon.”

Tia (grinning): “Yep. I’m donna be five.”

Mom: “And what happens when you turn five?” Obviously prompting her to say she gets to climb the rock wall.

Tia: Pauses and thinks…”I get heavier?”

____________________________________________________________________

Eating breakfast a few weeks ago, Landon started freaking out as only a nearly three year old can.

“I not wanna sit by dat door!” he cried, pointing at the back door.

“Why not?”

“It’s thcawy (scary)!”

“Why is it scary,” I asked.

“Betause. A monthster come frew dat door.”

I laughed and moved him and thought nothing else of it, until…

I picked him up out of his crib at the crack of dawn a few days later as he cried.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thscared of dat door,” he cried, pointing at his half open closet door.

“Why?”

“A monthster in dere.”

“Honey, there aren’t any monsters,” I siad hugging him tight.

“Yeth! Wike in Monthster’s Inc.”

Note to self…help him find a new favorite movie and tuck Monster’s Inc. away for a long, long time.

I love my kids.

Happy Weekend everyone!

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things Tagged With: kids say the darndest things

Drowning

November 3, 2010 by Kelli

First of all, I am very pleased with the way that elections turned out last night. There were a couple of issues that disappointed me and the fact that Harry Reid is still in office annoys me to no end, but more than anything I’m glad that there is a better balance of power in Washington now. Perhaps we can finally have reasonable discourse and work toward the good of the people. For a great analysis of how I feel about all this, visit Nicole’s blog. She essentially said everything I want to say and said it better than I could have.

I’m going to have to bail on a post today. I’m trying to do a better job of not posting bad, rambling posts on the days when I don’t really have anything good to say. Actually, I’ve got a couple of posts rolling around in my head but I just don’t have the time to write them well right now. You see, I’m smack in the middle of a little editing project. My deadline is 13 days away so I need to hunker down and dig in my heels. Let me just tell you – trying to work from home when you have small kids is hard. I have a newfound respect for working moms. And I have a newfound respect for the 5:00am hour. Me and 5:00 are becoming well acquainted.

I don’t like 5:00. AM or PM, come to think of it.

On top of that it’s Holiday season which means there are class parties, birthday parties, Christmas parties and every other kind of party you can imagine to plan and prepare for. And rehearsals for our church’s Christmas Musical (which is going to be amazing – tickets go on sale this Sunday!) And field trips. And big, fat giveaways on 5 Minutes for Mom coming your way – be on the lookout!

There’s also election night coverage to watch, which I know I don’t have to do but it’s so entertaining to listen to husband pants yell at the TV that I can’t pull myself away. There is food to be cooked, lunches to be made and boo boo’s to be kissed. I am speaking on a panel in a couple of weeks at the St. Louis Women in Media’s Fall Networking Event alongside several other amazing women so I need to prepare myself for that, and I need to find a baby sitter and I need to find a babysitter for a date night next week.

Date night! I love date night.

I’m not complaining. Life is full right now. I love it. I go to bed knowing that my day was packed and productive. But life is also tiring right now and I’m learning to say no. It’s hard to say no. But I am doing it. I said no twice today. It hurt because they were big no’s. But for now, no will do.

Oh, I forgot to add that I need to do laundry. I feel like I mention my laundry woes here quite a bit. It’s probably because I’m always waist deep in laundry. How does that happen?

Speaking of laundry – for those of you who are the mother’s of little girls, you must invest in several pairs of socks from Little Miss Matched. It’s the most brilliant idea ever conceived. Sell socks in packs of three, all of which coordinate but don’t match. This way you never have to worry about trying to match socks. There are leg warmers and underwear and shirts and tights and even dresses like this one:

I am going to sign off now because the whole point of this post was to tell you that I’m not going to post today. See? This is exactly the type of rambling, boring post I’m trying to avoid.

Clearly I need to work a little harder on that goal of mine.

Filed Under: Christmas, Family, Holidays, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random, Thanksgiving Tagged With: Little Miss Matched, Random blog posts, WAHM, Working Mom

The Cutest Little Four Eyes You’ll Ever Meet

November 1, 2010 by Kelli

Neither Lee nor I have ever had problems with our eyes. I wore glasses for about ten minutes in high school. They were supposed to be for reading. I think I wore them as an accessory until I got bored with them and I never saw them again. Other than that, I’ve never even been to an eye doctor and Lee’s only been once.

So imagine my surprise two weeks ago when a letter came in the mail telling us Tia failed her vision screening at preschool. Poor kid. Genetics are definately not on her side. She’s got the wonky ear issues from her father and now she has vision issues that were apparently passed down from a grandparent (ahem…thanks mom).

At first I assumed that perhaps she was just having an off day. For those who know my gregarious daughter, you know that when she wants to do something she usually excels. *When she doesn’t want to do something, however…ahem.*

So out of parental duty I made her an eye exam. They plopped her up in the chair and I learned two very important things:

1.) My child is not seeing well out of her right eye. She has an astigmatism and couldn’t distiguish the pictures one from another. Her left eye is fine and is overcompensating a bit, which puts her at risk for lazy eye. Who knew?!

2.) My child does not know her ABC’s. They originally tried to have her read letters, but it quickly became apparent that that wouldn’t be effective when she simply said the russian sounds of the letters that were familiar and she had no idea what G, V, Q and U were. She did know A, B, C and H, though…except she called them Ah, Veh, Seh and Nuh because those are russian letters.

I hang my head in shame.

She knows her russian alphabet forwards and backwards so, you know, kudos to me for that one. I’m going to get right on familiarizing her with her own alphabet, though.

So out we walked with a glasses order form in hand and the promise that in a few short days she would be seeing much more clearly.

A little frame disclaimer. When we were picking out her glasses, I tried several really trendy, square shaped frames on her. She was like a little Sarah Palin, all sassy and au courant. But she would have nothing to do with the hip styles I picked out. (*see above note). She has definate sensory sensitivities in that if something doesn’t feel exactly right the first time she puts it on, she wants nothing to do with it.

Do you know how complicated that can make life sometimes?

Instead she picked out these purple and green frames. But wait…there’s more! On one side is a purple and green flowered pattern, but you can actually flip that bad boy around to reveal:

Solid green! Yes, the bands on the side are reversible, a feature that she thought was the coolest. thing. ever! She’s decided to wear one side patterend and the other side solid. And I love her for it. 🙂

So I swallowed my mom pride and placed the trendy glasses back in the case. I did manage to talk her out of the first pair she picked out which were a metallic purple and were hideous. They also looked like they would break the first time she came tearing through the house.

But the glasses ladies (what do you call them…technicians?) encouraged me to let her pick out what she liked so that she would be more prone to keeping them on at all times.

And so I did.

When the glasses lady technician fitted them to her face today she told Tia to “make sure and let mommy tell you all about how to take care of glasses.” To which I replied, “Absolutely. And listen right now as Miss Bridgette tells mommy how to take care of glasses.”

Truth be told, it wouldn’t matter what we put on her tiny little face, she’s so dang cute. And the glasses make her look a little bit older, which I’m not sure I like. But most of all she’s proud of them and she’s excited that she has them.

We’ll see how excited she is tomorrow when she realizes that “Wear them all the time,” actually means Wear them all the time!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Tia Tagged With: Kids and glasses, vision screening in young children

Dear Halloween Fairy

November 1, 2010 by Kelli

*a disclaimer: My husband rightly pointed out in the comments that the Halloween Fairy idea was not ours. We heard it from a friend at church and loved it. Thanks Paul! 🙂 And now…read on.

Dear Halloween Fairy,

It was a beautiful Halloween night. Seriously. As lovely as Halloween nights come ’round these parts.

Some of us even played a little football in our underwear before the festivities began. Naturally.

Of course once dinner was over, we made sure each costume was put on lovingly, with great care and precision.

Anakin, Cheerleader Tia and Woody were all ready to go. See the attention to detail in the costumes?

With great impatience they endured picture time as we waited for the sun to go down so we could stroll the neighborhood demanding candy from all of our neighbors.

We were all thankful to have Boss and Byshka in town for a few days.

But then someone else showed up and nobody knew what to think of him.

Landon in particular was a little leary of the man in the mask. Once we figured out that it was only Boss, though, we all enjoyed trying it on.

Even Monkey got in on the action.

We got a decent family picture for once. It was like a Halloween Miracle!

And we lit our pumpkins, which mommy lovingly carved (read: she mumbled and groaned the entire two hours) and we decorated with a Sharpie when she wasn’t looking.

After meeting up with neighbors and friends, we hit the pavement. It was exciting and fun and filled with laughter. Of course, Landon only made it a quarter of the way before getting tired and needing a ride in his cadillac.

Here’s the thing, though, Halloween Fairy. We ended up with just a little bit more candy than we could ever possibly know what to do with. It’s enough to make sure all three kids need massive dental work for the next eighteen years. Here is an example. This is just one kid’s bag.

So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take a little bit of this candy out, and lay the rest on the front porch tonight. We would like you, Halloween Fairy, to come pick up the candy and do with it what you wish. You can dispose of it, you can donate it…just don’t eat it. You don’t need to do that to yourself. And in it’s place would you please leave a special toy for each child?

That would be great. Thanksomuch.

Filed Under: Family, Halloween, Holidays, Kids Tagged With: halloween 2010, Halloween pictures, kids in costume

Let’s lighten the mood

October 29, 2010 by Kelli

The last two posts were fun for me to write. I like creative writing and I love to write about the moments in my past that comprise who I am today.

What I don’t like, however, is loading you all down with too many wordy, serious posts. Life’s too short for that, yes? So today I will merely throw up a couple of pictures before I tackle the pit that used to be my home. First things first…diging myself out from under the laundry that appears to be reproducing at night while I sleep. Seriously. Piles of clothes everywhere.

This little girl is going to be sporting a very different look possibly by as early as this afternoon, but definately by Monday. More pictures to come.

What better way to spend your morning off school than looking at a toy catalog and telling each other what you want for Christmas?

Filed Under: Halloween, Kids

Compassion International: Tell Us Your Story

October 28, 2010 by Kelli

It is no secret that I love Compassion International. Sponsoring a child has been such a great experience for our family. Our kids love to talk about our sponsored child, Jonri, and what he’s doing. We love to receive letters in the mail with a picture he’s drawn. And there is no sweeter prayer than that of our four year old daughter: “Deaw Dod. Pwease be wif Jonwi an helwp him know about You.”

Let’s all say it together…Awwwwwww.

So when I received an email today from the Compassion team asking if I would join with others to tell my own story of how I was impacted as a youth and how the praise and love poured into me by an adult has shaped me into who I am, I quickly jumped at the chance. First the premise:

Wess Stafford, President of Compassion, shares the “Tell Us Your Story” idea here. You can read his words and his encouragement, or you can watch the video. The basic idea of it is that all of us have been impacted in some way or another by someone in our past. Whether positive or negative, we are all a product of our youth. So what or who shaped you? Who are you today and what led you to that point?

In thinking back to the many adults who have poured into my life in the past, I realized how deeply blessed I have been and how much encouragement I received in my formative years. But when I thought about who I am today and what weighs most heavily on my heart, one specific incident came to mind that forever altered and shaped who I have become. Here is my story:

“You have a real knack for languages,” he told me as I sipped my cup of hot tea. I was freezing….the kind of cold where you can no longer feel your extremeties. We were in a pizza parlor in Red Square, right in the heart of Moscow. I was fifteen.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean you hear the sounds really well and you repeat them perfectly. You should study russian. You could come live with Helen and I.”

Five years later, I did just that.

Sergei Petrochenko was the interpreter for the squirrley group that made up our missions team on my first trip to the former USSR. I shared with you how I wound up taking that trip and the man responsible for it here. Gary Varner is another person I can quickly point to who spoke wisdom and grace into my life as a youth and drastically shaped who I am today.

Sergei and his wife Helen were young and adorable and I shared an immediate connection with them. Maybe it was because I took such an interest in their language. Perhaps it was because the moment I stepped off the plane I fell in love with their country. It’s likely because when God Himself knit me together He placed a special place in my heart for that area of the world. It was ordained from the beginning of time.

As Sergei and I stood and ate pizza, a dirty, wild looking man approached our table. He held out dirt encrusted hands and mumbled something in russian. I looked at Sergei who studied him closely then gestured his hands toward our unfinished pizza. The man mumbled Spaseeba, grabbed two slices and quickly exited the building. I looked curiously back at Sergei who for a solid week had engrained in all of our heads never to feed someone who came begging.

“Why did you give him food?” I asked.

“Because he needed it,” Sergei replied matter of factly, taking another sip of his tea.

“How did you know?”

“He had russian eyes,” Sergei replied. And that was the end of the conversation. It is a brief moment in my life that I have never forgotten.

Fast forward five years. I am twenty years old and I am spending a semester in Kiev, Ukraine with Helen and Sergei studying russian. It turns out Sergei was right. I did have a knack for languages and I had fallen in love with the nuances of russian. It was during my four month stint in Kiev that I experienced another defining moment…and this moment was a direct result of the pizza parlor conversation with Sergei five years earlier.

I was on a taxi bus when I noticed an old man laying in a busy street. He was close to the sidewalk, but fully on the road and he looked injured. I tossed money at the cab driver and jumped out of the van, dodging cars as I dashed across the street. I knelt down in front of the man, who smelled of liquor and had a deep gash on his forehead.

Pomogeetya, Podjalusta, he wept. Help me.

I pulled off my scarf and pressed it to his head and began yelling for help. And people just passed me by. They looked right at me as they walked by on the sidewalk. Two younger men laughed at me as they passed. I heard one of them say to the other, “Stupid American. He’s drunk.”

But as I looked into his eyes, I knew there was more to the story. This wasn’t a man who stumbled in a drunken stupor into the road. He had the “russian eyes” that Sergei had mentioned. Eyes that conveyed a true sense of need, of pain, of desperation. Yes, by the smell I could tell he had been drinking, butsomehow I knew that wasn’t what caused his fall.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, someone stopped and offered help. In my broken russian I told the story as an ambulance drove up to us. They loaded the man into the back of the truck and whisked him away…I never even knew his name. The man who helped me shook my hand and introduced himself. Pavel. He spoke english.

“The man was robbed. He said he was in the street for much time. Why did you stop?”

I shrugged and offered the only explanation I had – “He had russian eyes.”

He looked at me for a moment, nodded, then turned and walked away.

I have the distinct blessing of having been poured into by many, many people over my lifetime. A few names of the people who have impacted me: Gary Varner, Robert Burkhart, Mrs. Baumbach, my high school Liturature teacher who told me I had a gift with words, Richard and Candy Martin, the list could go on and on…

But Sergei Petrochenko’s words when I was fifteen set me on a path that God created me for from time’s inception. Because of Sergei’s words my children are learning russian, my husband and I are praying about how we can have an impact in Russia as a family, how we can minister to orphans, if we should even adopt an orphan. The last time I heard from Sergei was December 30, 1998. After I came back to the States he and Helen divorced and I lost track of him. How my heart longs to see him again. How I yearn to show him the impact he had in my life…to introduce him to my children and let them show off their language. I hold out hope in my heart that God has that reunion planned for someday…

Words have a powerful and life altering effect. They can change a life for the worse…but, as in my case, also for the better.

How were you impacted as a youth by the words of an adult? If you feel so inclined, please share your story. I would really love to hear it.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Blogging, Life, Ministry, Russian, Travel Tagged With: Compassion Bloggers, compassion international, Kiev Ukraine, Sergei Petrochenko, Shaun Groves, Tell Us Yor Story, Wess Stafford

The Ribbons and the Ribbon Maker

October 27, 2010 by Kelli

There were six ribbons. Each was a different length, a different size and all were quite unique. The Ribbon Maker looked at His ribbons and decided that they would be better if woven together so He carefully and skillfully began braiding them. One over another with careful precision He wound the ribbons until they were a cord.

It was a strong cord and the weaving made each ribbon stronger. Until one day one of the ribbons felt a tug. She looked up and watched as the Ribbon Maker began pulling her away. She looked at the other ribbons in the cord. “I think the Ribbon Maker is calling me away,” she said. The ribbons looked up and saw that it was so. Though it saddened them to see a piece of the cord leave, they were thrilled when the Ribbon Maker left behind a thread – a splash of the ribbon He was taking away.

“I’m going to make a new cord using this beuatiful ribbon as my starting point,” the Ribbon Maker said as He lovingly carried away his ribbon.

Then there were five ribbons. They were still strong and with time they grew tighter and tighter as a unit. Until one day one of the ribbons looked up. She felt a tug and noticed that the Ribbon Maker was looking at her. “I think the Ribbon Maker wants to take me away,” she said to the group. The other ribbons were sad. How could they remain a strong cord if another ribbon was pulled away?

Once again, as the Ribbon Maker carefully unwove His ribbon from the rest, he left behind a thin cord. Next to the other four ribbons, the two cords left behind revealed a lovely pattern. “Don’t worry,” He told his ribbons. “I’m going to take her someplace new and begin a new cord. And you all will be stronger for it.” And with that He carried the ribbon away.

For some time, the four ribbons remained and just as the Ribbon Maker promised, they grew stronger and tighter. The threads of those who were carried away remained a strong presence in their unit and they each grew strong individually as well. But one day the Ribbon Maker looked at His cord and decided it needed a new ribbon. So, as only the Ribbon Maker can, He brought in a new, vibrant ribbon to weave into His cord. It took a bit of work to fit her in just right, but with time He had her woven in such a way that it was as if she had always been there. And the cord was strong.

Until…

One of the ribbons looked up. She felt the tug and knew it was time. All of the ribbons began to wonder why the Ribbon Maker continued to pull them away when they were so strong together.

“Trust me,” said the Ribbon Maker. “I need her to start a new cord, but her presence will always remain within this cord.”

And He carefully pulled out a thread and left it behind. The cord was beautiful and strong, though the ribbons left behind felt sad as they looked around and saw how many had been tugged away. What began as six ribbons had become five, then four, then five again and now four. Four ribbons with three vibrant threads woven in. What was the Ribbon Maker up to?

“I am weaving you together to make you strong,” He told them gently. “I need you strong so that I can use you to start new cords, strengthening my other ribbons. If I leave you all together too long what use is that to the ribbons who have no one to join with them? Don’t you know that there are threads of each of you left behind in different cords? Don’t you remember how I’ve tugged you away and used you to start new cords? My ribbons are each created with a unique beauty and that beauty is only enhanced when they are woven amongst one another. But I can’t leave my ribbons in one place for too long or they get tired, comfortable, and they lose a bit of their shine. You are a beautiful cord and you have grown into strong ribbons. I am using you to weave a beautiful tapestry. Trust Me.”

“If one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.” Eccelesiastes 4:12

To the women who have been woven into my heart by the Ribbon Maker over the last year and a half, I love you. I am stronger because of you. I am grateful for you. The threads of those who have gone on (or are preparing to move on) are still visible and we continue to pray for you as you begin braiding a new cord of ribbons. You are being delicately woven in Costa Rica, in Dallas and, soon, in Cleveland. And for those who remain, I’m hanging on for ride because it appears to me that the Ribbon Maker has a grand plan for our braided little group.

Image credit

Filed Under: Life, Ministry, Random Tagged With: friendships among women, parable, story

Baggage

October 26, 2010 by Kelli

I’m carrying a little extra baggage today. It has settled in a most unattractive place. It’s not flattering. I don’t like it.

It’s under my eyes.

I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It is likely due to the fact that I have so much going on it is hard for my brain to unwind and calm down at night. Combine that with an almost three year old who has developed wonky sleeping habits and you have…baggage.

Landon is a crafty little bugger. I go back and forth as to whether I should put him in a big kid bed or keep him in the crib. I’m not sure I’m ready for the battles of a big kid bed, but him laying in bed and whining “Mommy” over and over throughout the night (and starting most mornings around 5:45), is killing me softly. Purple under my eyes is not my color.

Dangit.

This is what I hear many mornings and, recently, in the middle of the night as well:

“Moooommmyyy…I’n firsty.” “Moooommmyyy…I needa go potty.” “Moooommmmy? Tan you tome hewe pwease?”

I don’t know what it is with our boys but both of them have been difficult sleepers in their toddler years. I’ll have to share sometime the nightmare we went through with Sloan when he was 3. Just thinking about those months makes me shudder. I’m praying we don’t have to endure that kind of difficulty with Landon too, but his recent nighttime behavior is scaring me a little. The biggest problem of all is that he is so dang cute! And he knows it and is workin’ it. And me? I’m just really, really tired. There is no rest for the weary.

Take last night, for instance. I had a rehearsal at church for our upcoming Christmas Musical. It was a pretty intense scene we were working on with lots of movement and singing so it took me a bit of time to unwind when I got home. At midnight Landon started crying. Thankfully he fell back asleep after only a few minutes. At 12:49 Sloan came into our room with an issue that needed to be dealt with. Fifteen minutes later I crawled back in bed determined to fall asleep. I did, thankfully, only to be awakened at 4:00 by a massive wind storm that shook our walls so violently I found myself wondering if I should move everyone to the basement. And at 4:30 the smoke alarm in the basement started chirping every 30 seconds indicating a dying battery. At 5:27 Landon started calling for me and intermittently singing Jesus Loves Me. By 6:30 he was done being patient and his cries escalated to the point that I knew I needed to drag my weary body out of bed.

And today we start all over. There isn’t time to rest, no time to sleep and it will be another late night.

Please…someone tell me I’ll sleep again someday. Please? Puh-leeeeeze?

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids, Motherhood, sleep, sleep issues in children

The day I questioned everything I knew to be true

October 25, 2010 by Kelli

Saturday night found Lee and I in the minivan, kids in tow, heading out to the mattress store to purchase two new mattresses. Never mind that the kids desperately needed them. Never mind that Tia’s mattress was so cheap that is was literally falling apart and becoming a potential hazard. Never mind that both mattresses had been peed on so many times they could be deemed a health code violation. Never mind any of those things. The fact is simply this:

I went out on Saturday evening to buy mattresses and thought it was fun.

Hi, my name is Kelli and I am a bona fide minivan mom.

Ah, but we haven’t even got to the best part of the story. What? Surely you know there would be more to this story than the fact that I had a hoot buying twin mattresses on a Saturday night, right? A hoot!

It was the incident that occurred when we returned home that sent my world aspinnin’. It started simple. We came home so Lee could drop the kids and I off and return to the mattress store to pick up our most exciting purchases. We had to remove the car seats and fold down the back seats and clean up a bit. And it was during this event that I began to question my entire identity.

The title of my blog is Minivans Are Hot. With the operative word being Hot. I know, I know…Minivan and Hot together in a sentence is an oxymoron. And most days I would beg to differ and would launch into a diatribe about how it’s sexy to be a mom and how minivan moms have it goin’ on and I would work my hardest to convince you that I was right. Until Saturday night…

What I found in the back seat of my minivan was anything but Hot. Let’s start with what I found under the seat, shall we? It was sticky…it was brown…it had flecks of leaves and dirt stuck to it. What was that?!

From there I removed the kids car seats to find enough dried, crumbled food to feed a small pack of wild baboons. It was sealed into the lining of the seat fabric and had to be scraped out with my fingernail. *heave* Don’t even get me started on what I found in their seats.

But the piece de resitance came when I crawled into the way back and looked inside the cup holder. It is here that I gasped, looked at my husband and exclaimed, “Gross! This is why minivans are NOT. HOT.” Then I clutched my chest with the gravity of my statement and fell in dramatic Disney Princess fashion onto the seat, the back of my hand against my forehead…

No I didn’t. That last part didn’t happen – mostly because I wouldn’t want to lay on those seats for $100. Maybe for $1000, though.

In the cup holder sat dried, crusted, molded bread. It appears my children are stock piling food in the back seat of our minivan in the event that a giant meteor should come crashing down to earth and we need to seek shelter inside the car for a significant amount of time. It also appears that they have eaten portions of a sandwich and then shoved the remaining portion in the cup holder and have, every day for who knows how long, been looking at this rotting sandwich and ignoring it.

It’s like I’m raising little cave people!

I promptly dug out the rot and marched to the trash can. My husband, sensing my impending melt down went dashing for the Shop Vac in the basement. Being the super hero that he is, he spent the next half hour sucking the muck out of our minivan while I went inside and lectured my children on the importance of throwing away rotten food. I also tried to talk myself out of changing my blog title from Minivans Are Hot to Minivans Are A Place Where Horrors grow Beneathe the Seats and in the Cupholders While You Yourself Obliviously Drive From Here to There Thinking You Are Looking Fine When Really You Are Controlling a Moving Science Experiment.

But in typical Hero fashion, my man came inside just as I was certain that my entire online identity was going to have to be realtered and yelled “Ta-Da!” I walked outside to see the seats clean (hey look! The fabric’s grey…) The cup holders clean…er. They still have a sticky substance that I can only assume will need to be chisled out at some point (probably just before we decide to sell the car). And it smelled much more pleasant too. It was actually quite nice in there.

I smiled at him and jumped into his arms. Small birds flitted about our heads as he spun me around and when we kissed little animated hearts floated up into the dusky sky.

Alright…that last part didn’t happen either. Sometimes I wish I lived in a cartoon.

Despite the cleanliness of my car, however, I couldn’t shake the fact that I had outwardly acknowledged the un-hotness of my minivan. And so I’m here to retrain my mind. And if any of you are having a hard time believeing that Minivans Are Hot like I am, then why don’t you join in with me as we repeat the mantra over and over.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are not, minivans are not…

NONONONONO!!!!

Let’s try again.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot…

Do you believe it?