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We Were En Fuego

May 3, 2010 by Kelli

This weekend we:

Were feeling motivated and inspired so we took advantage of the rarity and tackled a few major yard projects. First, we took down the swing set, much to the kids dismay. They really loved playing on it, but after nearly five years we felt like it was getting a little old and unstable. Why did we feel that way? I think it was the fact that it shook perilously every time one or more children climbed on it…

We let the kids cross the monkey bars one last time before dismantling their beloved swing set.

After taking don the swing set, we decided that it would be nice to completely open up our backyard. And in order to do that, the chain link fence would need to go. So we took it down. And we are both wickedly sore after doing so. But the yard? Looks awesome.

Notice the dog in the corner who is now leashed to a tree. She is the only one not impressed with our hard work.

We also took advantage of the great weather and planted flowers. Have I mentioned that I love spring?

A few other weekend activities included:

– Lee and I attending the wedding of a friend. I was her counselor at a children’s camp when I was in high school. And she’s married now. I feel old…

– My sweet friend Lindsey (who is also sister to the above mentioned bride), and I went to visit with the man who forever altered the course of my life when I was fifteen and he took me on my first mission trip to the former Soviet Union. He is now battling a cancer that is extremely aggressive and is ravaging his body. For almost three hours we sat and talked with him, laughing, reminiscing and soaking up his wisdom. I would like to write more about Gary, but I need some time to process all that we discussed yesterday. But I would like to ask that you join me in praying for him and his family.

– Tia asked me to braid her hair so that she could look “woody pitty” for daddy. So I did. Then I took pictures.

– I cleaned the wall after Landon played Picasso.

What we did NOT do:

– Go to Sloan’s first baseball game due to muddy fields.

– Go to Tia’s soccer game due to lack of motivation.

What did you do and NOT do this weekend?

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Lee, Life, Motherhood, Random, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: parenting, planting flowers, Springtime, weekend plans

Boy Says I Love You

April 29, 2010 by Kelli

Alternately titled, Girl Needs Pants.

Part One

Part Two

In June of 1999, I was working as an intern at First Baptist Church in Conway, Arkansas and was slowly but surely wading into the waters of forever with Lee. Toward the end of the month, he came for a visit and during this time we met up with my family in Branson (where I learned that my future husband, Mr. Super-Athlete-Who-Can-Play-Any-Sport-Like-A-Pro, cannot, in fact, water ski. He looks like gumby when he water skis and I will confess that it brings sweet joy to my soul to know that there is one thing I can do better than him.)

As we drove back to Conway, we had the official moment when Lee laid out his intentions for our relationship. I’ll never forget what he said as we twisted and turned through the dark hills. “I just want you to know that I plan on pursuing this relationship to marriage. Are you okay with that?”

Um, yeah. I’m good with that. Totally. You’re hot. We’re good.

Some of the details of my summer in Conay are murkey. For example, I can’t remember if Lee came once or twice to visit. I know that at some point Fourth of July happened, you know – like it happens every year. And my parents came to Conway to meet Lee’s family. I can’t remember if this was the same trip as the Branson visit or a different one. I do remember that the night of July 4th, Lee was goofing around and through a fire cracker at me and it popped right at my feet. And my dad was standing right there watching.

Bad move, dude…

The other thing I remember is the obssession that Lee and I had back then with roller blading. In fact, I’m fairly certain we roller bladed the entire town of Conway at 1:00 in the morning the night before he was to return to Waco. From Texas, he would be leaving to Germany for a month to play basketball. So the night before he left, we stayed up until the wee hours talking, laughing and enjoying the energy that comes with youth and new love.

Around 3:30 that morning, we said good night to each other and went to our separate rooms. I climbed into bed exhausted but ecstatic. And not five minutes after I laid down my head I heard a little knock on the door. It should be noted that I was wearing nothing but a small t-shirt at this moment.

“Can I come in for a second?” Lee asked.

I pulled the covers up to my chin. “Okay,” I said, assuming that he just wanted to say something quickly before heading back to bed.

He walked in the room and turned on the light. Then he grabbed the desk chair and pulled it to the side of the bed and sat down, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. And I did not move or sit up, but stayed firmly planted beneath the covers with the blanket pulled up around my chin.

“I just wanted to tell you something before I leave tomorrow,” he began. His eyes were all serious and I sincerely wished I had asked him to wait a minute so I could have gotten dressed before he came in. “I have really been praying about this and I want you to know that I don’t take these words lightly. I fully understand their meaning and I wouldn’t say them if I didn’t mean it with all my heart.”

At this point I’m thinking, Crap! But I’m not wearing any pants!

“Kelli – I love you.”

*awkward pause*

For the few agonizing seconds that I made him sit there in silence, I ran through my options. Stick out one arm for a brief hug and thank him? Nah. Sit up and pull the blankets around my waste and say it in return? Nah – because not only was I not wearing pants, I wasn’t wearing undergarments…and the shirt was white. I was ready for bed, people!

So I said the only thing that really made sense. “Um…could you go stand in the closet for a second?”

Lee’s eyebrows furrowed. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the response he hoped for. “What?” he asked.

“Just for a second. Go stand in the closet.”

He stood up and walked slowly to the closet. Poor guy. I could see the worry in his eyes. I leapt out of bed and got dressed as quickly as I could, then told him it was okay to come out now. He opened the door and stepped out and I grinned.

“I love you too,” I said. And we hugged. We did not kiss – not yet. I wrote about how long it took my chivalrous husband to kiss me here (and about how terribly I tempted him).

“What was with the closet?” Lee asked as we embraced.

“Well…” I said, “I wasn’t wearing any pants.”

And that, folks, is the day my husband told me he loved me for the first time…

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, funny stuff that happens, Lee, Life, Marriage Tagged With: Girl Meets Boy, Love Story, Saying I Love You

It was a crisp, clear morning…part two

February 25, 2010 by Kelli

A follow up to this post.

Alternately titled “How to turn 12 hours in to 36 without even trying…”

Or: “An American girl on a Ukrainian train to Prague with an Iranian born German.”

I failed to mention in my previous post that on my way to the train station in Kiev where my adventurous journey to Prague would begin, I was accosted by a very drunk Ukrainian man. It was 10:00 at night, dark and the metro station was empty when he came up behind me and pinned my arms down by my side. I honestly don’t think he was trying to hurt me – I just think he was wasted.

I calmly called screamed for help and a young policeman came running to my rescue. He yanked the guy off me and pushed me into the awaiting metro car that would take me to the train station. So, you know…that was the start of this adventure.

So, now I’m in Prague and I’m wiping Cameron’s slobber out of my ear as I make my way out to what I am hoping is the main square. It is early Monday morning and I am armed with my backpack (which contains one change of clothes, my passport and nothing else) and a scrap of paper that lists the address and phone number of the hostel where my friend and her group are staying. My first order of business is to call my host family in Ukraine as I know they are probably panicking since they thought I would arrive in Prague more than a day earlier.

Allo?

Sergei?

Kelli! Where are you? Are you okay?! We have been so worried.

Sergei then went on to tell me that after they didn’t hear from me, they called the station to check on my train and were informed that it was a much longer train ride than they had been originally told. Shortly after that, they received a phone call from my friend Wanida saying that she and her group were actually running a day behind schedule, which meant that I actually beat them to Prague. A bit of God’s Providence as I would have been wandering the streets of Prague alone for two days had I, indeed, been on a 12 hour express train.

After I hung up with Sergei, I decided my first order of business would be to find some place to buy toothpaste and maybe some shampoo and get something to eat since I hadn’t had any more than a few bites of bread in almost two days.

Entering the heart of Prague, I stopped and took in the sites. I was struck by the beauty of the city. Because it was early morning, the autumn sun was just starting to spill over the buildings. The architechture took my breath away and I found myself mezmorized by the different structures before me. I knew nothing about Prague and was itching to explore once I stabalized my blood sugar.

I began walking down what looked to be a main street and almost immediately picked up a follower. He came out of nowhere and walked right on my heels.

Xello zere, pritty girl. Would yoo like to buy some xash (hash)?

I shook my head and sped up. It was a fairly crowded street so I determined that if he tried anything funny I could scream and escape easily.

Come on now, pritty girl. Eet ees very good xash.

No! I told him firmly.

And yet he persisted. For almost 30 minutes he persisted in trying to sell me hash. And in that time I walked in circles because I didn’t want to venture off this main path. Finally, having had enough, I whirled around on my heel and faced my annoyance. He was tall, greasy and smelled of urine and cheap tobacco.

Seriously! Do I LOOK like the type of girl that would do hash? Please, leave me alone.

He bowed all creepy like and folded his hands under his chin, then turned and walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my search for toothpaste. Finally, I found a small pharmacy where I bought some Suave Spring Rain shampoo and conditioner and AIM toothpaste. I think I paid $15.00 for those three items. And to the glory of God, a Kentucky Fried Chicken was right next door.

I entered the restaurant and breathed in deep the smell of crispy fried chicken then made a beeline for the bathroom where I check out my reflection in the mirror. As I took in the circles under my eyes and my stringy, greasy hair I realized I kind of did look like the type of girl who would do hash…

After washing my hair in the sink and brushing my teeth, I felt like a new woman. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more clean in all my life. I then walked out and dropped another load of cash on the best chicken and biscuit I’ve ever tasted and walked back out on the the streets of Prague feeling like a million bucks.

Since I knew Wanida and her friends wouldn’t be arriving until that night, I decided to explore a bit. I wandered until I found the Charles Bridge, only I didn’t know it was called the Charles Bridge at the time. Iwas in awe of the vendors selling photographs and paintings, singing and dancing. Every ten feet, I stopped to admire the brilliant statues that graced the bridge. If I could figure out how to work our new scanner and printer, I would share some of my pictures. But I can’t figure it out so if you’re interested in seeing it, you can go to google and check it out. Or watch the opening scene of the original Mission: Impossible, which was filmed in Prague.

After taking my time to check out every vendor, I stopped at the end of the bridge and looked out over the water at a hillside that was covered with gorgeous red, yellow and orange trees. The autumn colors had created a patchwork piece of art across the vibrant green hill. And at the top I could make out the shape of a woman leading a flock of goats. It was picturesque and I determined that before my few days in Prague were over, I would climb that hill and look back at the bridge.

I eventually made my way back to the city square where I found a small grocery store and bought a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the book Jane Eyre. Then I hailed a cab and headed to the youth hostel. By this time it was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to fall behind the horizen. Wanida’s group was supposed to arrive at 7:00.

When I arrived at the hostel, I told the receptionist who I was and who I was waiting for. She asked me to have a seat. I did and promptly opened up my box of cereal and dug into my new book.

At 8:00, I asked the receptionist if she had heard from the group. She blinked twice then told me that she was very sorry, but the group had called and they were staying at a different hostel…on the other side of town.

If you go outside and walk three blocks you will be able to get a cab to take you to this hostel, she told me handing me a piece of paper with the hostel’s address and phone number on it.

So I headed out into the dark streets of Prague and found myself in a back alley where an older gentleman who, once again, had had too much to drink stumbled into my path and said something to me in Czech. I shrugged my shoulders and tried to push past him.

Oh you are American girl, yes? Oh please, pritty American girl. Give me money for a beer. Just one beer. I just need a little beet of money.

He then reached down and grabbed my butt and gave it a squeeze. I burst into tears and took off running with him calling out behind me to stop. I finally made it to a busy street, wiped my eyes and hailed a cab who took me to the hostel where I rushed in to find a worried Wanida sitting in the lobby waiting for me. I grabbed onto her and and laughed and cried.

Are you okay? she asked.

Yes, I answered. But I don’t want to be near another man for a long, long time.

After I was finally united with a group of Americans, I had a wonderful few days in Prague. I learned a lot about that beautiful city, I ate at amazing restarants, I ran along the Charles Bridge at night singing the theme song to Mission: Impossible, I bought gorgeous photographs that are today hanging in my foyer and I was all over refreshed after a stressful trip.

When Wanida’s group left, I had about 7 hours by myself to wander before my train was to depart. My hands were loaded down with bags full of souviner’s, but I did the one thing I was determined to do. I hiked to the hill across from Charles Bridge (which was much father away than I had anticipated – I guarantee I walked three miles to get there) and trekked up the hill (which was much steeper than it looked) and stood at the top looking over the city of Prague. I sang praise songs and enjoyed the sound of my voice floating uninterrupted through the air. It was a spectacular moment.

Finally, I headed back to the train station and began the long journey back to my temporary home. And this time, I got a room to myself the entire way back…

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Life

It was a crisp, clear morning…

February 23, 2010 by Kelli

As I stepped outside this morning, I was struck by the crisp chill in the air. It is the lingering mix of winter air as it fights back the impending spring. I love it. It’s cold, but I can hear the birds chirping in the distance and the air feels and smells so clean and fresh.

As I breathed in deep, I had a flash back to a similar morning nearly 12 years ago – October, 1998. The situation and circumstances were so different, but the experience is one that shaped my life and is, perhaps, one of my favorite moments in life.

It was a crisp, clear morning when I stepped off the Ukrainian train and stretched my arms up over my head. I tried to shake the sleep from my eyes as I looked around the strange platform. Not paying attention, I turned and hopped back on the train and sat down on the bottom bunk in my small room. I had had an amazing night’s sleep. The train pulled out of the station in Kiev at 11:00 and I had promptly fallen asleep and been rocked most of the night. Except for the occasional stop to pick up new passengers, I had been uninterrupted in my sleep.

Now I was ready to fold up my bedding, pack my backpack and prepare to arrive in Prague, Czech Republic where I was to meet my friend Wanida and the group that she was travelling with for a semester abroad. I had been in Kiev for roughly a month and half so far and I craved the companionship of fellow Americans.

As I leaned back against the cold train wall, I looked outside at the sterile platform once more. And in that moment, my heart sank. The signs were in Ukrainian.

This startled me because my host family in Ukraine, a young couple who were dear friends, had assured me that the train I was on to Prague was an express train. You will be there in 12 hours, Sergei told me proudly as he handed me the tickets. And yet here I sat, 11 hours after boarding the train and I was clearly still in Ukraine. Which means we still had to go through Poland before we would make it to Czech Repbublic.

I hurried out to the conductor – a kind, round faced little Ukrainian man who spoke no Enlgish but communicated well through hand gestures and facial expressions. In my broken russian I asked him how much longer until we arrived in Czech Republic. 25 hours, he said.

This isn’t a 12 hour express ride? I asked.

And then he laughed. Hard. Shook his head and said. Nyet. This is a 36 hour train ride.

Awesome. I returned to my room and sat down hard on the bed. I had nothing to read and no food. I had been planning on buying food when I met up with the group in CR. I was worried that they would be looking for me and I had no way of communicating with them, or my parents for that matter, that it would be another day before I arrived.

Then the situation got worse…much worse.

The conductor came by my room, his eyes full of apology, and told me they were out of room and he needed to add a passenger to my room. And in walked a short, stocky Iranian man who clearly hadn’t showered in some time. His eyes lit up when he saw the blonde haired, blue eyed 20 year old sitting in front of him. And I got very uncomfortable.

It didn’t take long for me to realize, however, that this guy was a mouse – a dorky mouse. Had he been anything else, I may have been in trouble. His name was Cameron. He was Iranian born, but had been raised in Germany. He spoke no russian (I never could figure out why he was in Ukraine) and his English was limited to phrases like, I love you and Will you sleep with me?

The beds in the train were narrow cots that folded out of the wall. Mine had been the bottom cot, but I quickly realized that sitting down there gave Cameron too much access to me. As soon as he started stroking my leg and professing his undying love to me, I folded down the top bunk, hopped up and did not remove myself.

By this time it was 2:00 and I was famished, tired and in need of some toothpaste. I hadn’t brought any, of course, thinking I could just borrow Wanida’s. The sweet conductor brought me some bubbly mineral water and a couple pieces of bread and glared at Cameron for good measure before leaving again. He also brought me a russian newspaper, which I spread open and worked at reading to distract myself from Cameron’s persistent stares. Everytime we made eye contact he would raise his brows and point at his cot. I would, in turn, roll my eyes, shake my head no and stare at the paper again.

Finally, it got dark enough to try and sleep. But it would be a long night. As we crossed from the Polish border to the Czech border in the wee hours of the morning, several men came into our room to check our passports. Cameron’s looks brought on immediate suspisions, unfortunately, so the men kept coming back in and trying to question him – the conductor among them. Finally, feeling a little sorry for my bunk mate, I told the conductor to tell the men that Cameron was merely travelling for pleasure and that he was planning to head back to Germany from Czech Republic. I’m not sure if that was true or not – I just wanted to sleep.

This seemed to satisfy the men and they finally left us alone. After they left, Cameron got up and shut our room door, something that I had already told him more than once was not acceptable. He stood up on the bunk and ran his hand over my hair. I pulled the blanket over my head.

Sank you bery much, he said.

You’re welcome, I replied.

Keeelli, he whispered. Come down wis me.

Uuuuuhhhh…Cameron no! Go to bed.

Then he pulled the blanket back and leaned in close, his mouth puckering. And this, my friends, was perhaps one of my finer moments in life. I shot up and grabbed Cameron by the shirt collar and yanked his face close to mine.

Cameron, I swear to God, if you touch me again I will scream so loud that the Ukrainian police, the Polish police and the Czech police will all come running to my rescue. But that will only be after I beat the crap out of you first. Don’t. you. dare come near me again. Do you understand?”

Then I shoved him all wide eyed backwards off the bed, reached down and flicked the door back open, laid back down and yanked the covers back over my head. Then I started laughing and shaking all over. I heard Cameron slowly settle himself back down in his bed. A few minutes later, very softly, he said. Keeeellli. Come down pleeze.

The guy was persistent, I’ll give him that.

Finally, we made it to Prague, 36 hours after departing Kiev. And as I headed one direction, Cameron headed another to catch his next train. But not before trying one last time to steal a kiss. I managed to turn my head fast enough for him to merely slobber in my ear.

And that was only the beginning of this adventure…

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Life, Random

To the ladies of the ’80’s…you’re welcome.

January 18, 2010 by Kelli

Tonight I am taking a walk down memory lane. I’m travelling back to a day when life was simpler. It was filled with scrunchies and oversized tie-dyed Esprit bags. There were high tops and units belts, Trapper Keepers and jean jackets. Can you see it? Can you hear Whitney Houston belting out “I’m Your Baby Tonight?”

I am a child of the ’80’s. I give you evidence:

Ah yes, the ’80’s. That iconic era when the music was good and the styles were horrific. I was a young child of the ’80’s so my exposure to the glory of that time was slightly sheltered and limited. I was a teenager of the ’90’s. An entirely different era altogether. I’ll reminisce on those days some other time.

You are on the edge of your seats in anticipation, are you not?!

But alas, my memories of the ’80’s and all they entailed almost always include the two girls that lived down the hill from us and served as frequent babysitters for my brother and I. These girls were ’80’s personified. They had the hair styles, the clothes, the perfume (Ex.cla.MA.tion!) and the music. Their rooms were decorated in hot pink, black and turquoise. They wore their hats sideways, their bangs shalaqued into a perfect, budding rose atop their foreheads.

And they loved…The New Kids on the Block! Oh yes they did. The original boy band. The men who paved the way for the likes of N’Sync, The Back Street Boys and that other band made up of boys… Radical!

These girls gave me oversized pins for my jean jacket and school bag so that I could carry around Jordan and Jonathon, Joey, Donnie and Danny everywhere I went. They let me watch the VHS tapes that they purchased at the concert and I oohed and aahed over their wicked dance moves while my teenage idols squealed with delight. They let me look at the polaroid shots they took on that “magical” night.

I lived vicariously through them out of necessity because when I went home I was only allowed to listen to Leslie Gore. I mentioned I was sheltered didn’t I?

And tonight, I am remembering those days. I’m remembering them through the music…the beautiful, glorious, terrible music.

Seriously, the New Kids weren’t very good.

But the were just. so. awesome!

And so I give you all this moment to step back in time. You can thank me later…or now. You can thank me now if you want.

You’re welcome.

Words just simply cannot express the hysterical glory of those videos.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Random Tagged With: New Kids on the Block, Reminiscing the '80's.

2009 – A “Wordy” Review

January 3, 2010 by Kelli

I got this idea from C-Jane’s blog. I’m not quite as spunky a writer as she is, but I liked looking through my 2009 posts and remembering the fun and crazy words that composed and marked the past year.

January:

– The Inauguration: Thoughts From a Conservative: This was one of my few ventures into politics on my blog. I don’t do it often, but sometimes the urge to comment on the political temperature of our country gets the best of me. Political posts always lead to interesting comments. I also ended up on the news during this particular event.

– Boredom Leads to Strange Things: An Epic Battle: In which Sloan and I developed an entire story using his Star Wars figurines and a doll house.

Feburary:

Hoops and Tears: This was one of my more poignant and introspective posts of the year. I don’t often venture into the recesses of my heart on my blog, but this was a decisive moment in my year and it’s a prayer that my heart still whispers for my child.

The Master Cleanse: A Reflection: Perhaps one of the funnier moments of our year. This was the description of mine and Lee’s abismal attempt at the Master Cleanse diet.

March:

Minivans are HOT!: I got my new site up and running with this post.

Memo to My Husband: My kind (and fecicious) way of asking my husband not to screw the lids of the kids’ sippy cups on so tight.

April:

Sick and Twisted or Just Plain Funny?: If my children ever end up needing professional counseling, this post may contain some explanation as to why.

Easter Blunder: My husband made a man blunder on Easter Sunday of all days. It made for a great memory…and gave me a reason to laugh at him – good naturedly of course.

May:

Can I Just Go Back To Bed?: The Infamous haircut heard ’round the world. It was Sloan’s lone foray into hair maintenance – he was fired, effective immediately and lasting for all of eternity.

The Art of Taking Tea: A friend and I threw a kick-butt tea party.

June:

The Lotus in a Field of Mud: I love yoga – I just don’t understand it…

Why I’m in Turks and Caicos: I got to take the trip of a lifetime with my mom as we travelled to her childhood home in South Caicos. It was amazing.

July: This was a big posting month for me…

Six Years: My baby turned six. *sob*

Then and Now: I took these comparitive shots of Landon on our favorite stretch of beach.

Heavy and Light: In which I go all introspective again.

I’m sorry but it’s all I’ve got today…: My pitiful, yet painfully honest, admition that I would gladly allow Zac Efron to make a Cougar out of me (though since I’ve written this post I’ve been informed that a woman in her thirties is actually referred to as a Puma).

August:

On Immunizations: I ventured into another hot topic and posted our decision to alter and withhold some immunizations for our children.

Missions Week: I hosted my first Missions Week in which I featured missions organizations and missionaries that are near and dear to my heart. You can read all of the posts by clicking on the link at the top of my page.

September:

The President’s Address to Our Children: I got political again and in doing so stepped in a big pile of *&%! This particular post ended in me getting an email from Fox and Friends to be interviewed on their morning program. Unfortunately I was out of town when they needed me and was unable to do the interview.

A Party in the Heavenlies: My son asked Jesus to be his Savior. A momentous day for sure.

October:

Don’t let the door hit you in the –: The one where I admit that sometimes my mothering skills are reduced to clapping my hands.

Pumpkins and Funnel Cakes – A Lovely Combo: I worked on taking and posting better photographs with this post.

November:

I Blame it all on Them: This post found me lamenting my dying brain cells – a phenomena I blame entirely on the children.

Mature Woman my BLEEP: My dermatologist had a severe case of verbal diarrhea.

December:

The Three Wise Men, The Construction Worker and the Lady Down the Street: This one is pretty self-explanatory.

The One Where My Mom Claws Come Out: I almost had to take a girl out at the mall. Don’t make mama bear angry!

Whew – It’s been a fun ride, this blogging thing. I’m so glad I have these stories documented and I’m so grateful to have you guys journey with us. I know I’m not the most talented writer out there and I don’t always spin the most fascinating stories, but this blog has been a fun release for me and I enjoy your company!

I’m hoping to improve my writing skills in this coming year, while also providing a fun and witty journal for my children to look back at one day. This is the literary road map of their childhoods. I just pray that I do them justice.

Happy 2010.

Which, can you believe it’s 2010? I really thought we’d have flying cars by now…and Hoverboards.

Blast those Hollywood movie makers…

Filed Under: blast from the past, Blogging, Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Missions Weeks, Random

Re-post: The Pilgrims Have Landed: A Brief History

November 26, 2009 by Kelli

I originally posted this on November 21st of last year, but it bears another posting mainly because I don’t feel like coming up with anything original today and because sometimes you just need to laugh at yourself…

When I was fifteen years old, I went on my first mission trip to the former Soviet Union. We spent two weeks in Belarus and Moscow. Part of our program was to go to different schools and show pictures of our every day lives and explain what life was like for us as American teenagers.

One of my pictures was of my family celebrating Thanksgiving. The first time it was my turn to speak, I was very, very nervous. I wanted to make sure I spoke slowly enough for the students to understand me and I was afraid of leaving out important details. I should have been more worried about giving false information…

When I got to the Thanksgiving picture I was on a bit of a roll but was still dealing with my nerves. As I spoke about Thanksgiving, suddenly our leaders and interpreters in the back of the room started laughing. As I went on, I noticed them laughing more and more visibly. After the program was over, I came over to them, wondering what on earth I’d said that was so hysterical. Apparently, my explanation of Thanksgiving was this:

“This is a picture of my family celebrating Thanksgiving. In America, we celebrate Thanksgiving to remember…the…pilgrims landing, um, on earth. So we get together and have a big meal together…”

Seriously? The pilgrims landing on earth? That was my first legitimate and real blonde moment. I’ve only had a handful of those in my lifetime, most between the ages of 15 and 20. Needless to say, I have never lived that down. People still bring it up – namely my parents.

So here I am, much older and wiser. And to comemorate my wisdom and the Thanksgiving holiday, here is a brief history of Thanksgiving:

*In 1621, the colonists of Plymouth and the Wapanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest. Gathering together for a large feast, everyone pitched in to prepare the meal. Historians can’t say for sure what foods were actually consumed during the feast, but they know that venison and wild fowl were on the list due to journal records. *

Gathering to give thanks for the harvest was actually a longstanding tradition with the colonists, and there are several recorded events that took place before the 1621 meeting. Nevertheless, the feast of 1621 has long been acknowledged as the first official Thanksgiving and it is this meeting that we celebrate yearly. We celebrate to thank our Maker for the blessings He has bestowed upon us, for the way that He has provided, for the bounty that we are all blessed to share.

And we thank Him that the pilgrims landed on earth…

Geez.

*For more information go to this website.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Holidays, Life, Thanksgiving Tagged With: History of Thanksgiving

I blame it all on them

November 16, 2009 by Kelli

When I was a kid, I ruled at MEMORY. Seriously, I was untouchable. You picked up the shoe? Oh I’ll remember where it is. Ten minutes could pass and I’d still remember where that shoe sat, patiently waiting for me to find it’s match. Oh yes, my friends – I was hardcore.

I remember vividly sitting on the floor in my bedroom, my Walkman firmly placed over my ears, Leslie Gore’s greatest hits blaring (I was only allowed to listen to Christian songs or Oldies so I tended to rock out to Leslie Gore with all the fervor that my scrawny little body allowed). I was usually bundled up against the frigid Wisconsin chill that seemed to permeate the air 10 out of 12 months every year.

I was usually seated on the floor next to my black and white bed with the hot pink and torquoise accent pillows. They matched, of course, the black, white, turqouise and hot pink wallpaper border in the cream colored room. Ah, the eighties were grand weren’t they?

I would spread those memory cards out and play against myself, all the while belting out “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To,” at the top of my lungs. Sometimes my parents or my brother would join me, perhaps in an effort to get me to stop singing…

Huh…

Whatever the case, I welcomed their company because it gave me a chance to show them who was MEMORY boss. Oh yes – I was an unstopable force.

Fast forward 25 years to today as I sat with my kids and played MEMORY. We also were fighting off a November chill, though it was decidedly less dramatic than the Wisconsin chill in my past. Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits blared through the MP3 player (my musical standards are significantly lower than my parents were. Although I guess for my kids, Michal Jackson falls under the umbrella of Oldies. That’s depressing…)

And I got my butt kicked today. By Tia, then by Sloan.

Even though I cheated and peeked at some of the cards as we were setting the game up, I still lost by a rather significant margin.

I blame it on the kids. My mind was like a vault before I had kids. I nearly had a photographic memory, which came in handy in college. I never needed a calendar or a day planner because I could remember dates and events without a reminder. Studying? I was a master crammer. I could visualize words on a page and regurgitate them on a test (as long, of course, as that test was in written form. If numbers or equations were involved I was totally screwed.)

These days I’m happy if I remember to take off my slippers and put on real shoes before I leave the house.

I think pregnancy kills brain cells. Then there’s the pushing, in which whole sections of the brain simply die. And the parts of the brain that were still firing on full capacity? Those areas are severely handicapped by the lack of sleep. Thus leaving you with only half a brain that’s only half functioning. So clearly us moms are at a severe disadvantage!

And then there are the hours and hours of kids songs, cartoons, Veggie Tales, Elmo and a whole variety of images and sounds the seems to stimulate our children yet drive us deeper into a semi-comatose state where we can no longer remember if today is Tuesday or Wednesday and what time does the bus come and when is that pizza party that I volunteered to help with?

Yeah, I blame it on them. That’s why my memory is completely shot. But I won’t tell them that. Oh no. I’ll let them think that they won simply because mommy was being nice. There’s no need for them to think any different.

Right?

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Motherhood, Random, Sloan, Tia

Memory of Halloweens Past

October 30, 2009 by Kelli

This morning, the kids got up long before Lee and I were ready. So as we laid in bed, they pitter pattered out to the living room. From the warmth of our bed, we could hear them digging through their little halloween buckets where the candy they racked up yesterday trick or treating at my dad’s office awaited their arrival.

Twice they came into our room to ask if they could have a piece. Twice I played bad cop and said no, not until after breakfast – because eating a sugar-filled-teeth-rotting-sugar-exploding morsel is way better after you’ve eaten a bowl of cereal. (eyeroll) Really, I just didn’t feel like I would be doing them justice as their mother if I allowed them candy at 6:30 in the morning.

Moments after their second rejection, I heard Sloan tell Tia that they should dump their buckets out and count their candy to see how much they had.

So with a tumble and a THWOP we heard the innards of their plastic buckets fall to the floor and the delighted giggles of two very excited children. After saying a silent prayer that they would have the same amount of candy I heard Sloan count to 14…twice.

“Tia, we both have 14 pieces!” he exclaimed. “That means we don’t have to fight!”

Yes. And it meant that mommy could lay in peace for a few more minutes. Praise God Almighty from Whom all blessing flow!

As I thought of them counting their little piles of candy, I remembered my trick or treating days when my brother and I would come home and share the same ritual. We would dump out our pillow cases of candy and take an inventory of our loot. Then, of course, the trading and bartering would commense.

I tended to trade the Twizzlers and M & M’s for Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and Skittles. Of course, I also hoarded the Bottle Caps and Pop Rocks and we both handed off the Sugar Daddies and Suger Babies to my dad, because those are his favorite. And we threw away the Nut ‘N Honey’s because, ew…

Then we would diligently count how many pieces of candy we had and hoot and hollar if we were fortunate to pass the 100 piece mark then squeal with delight if passed 200. We would plan out what we would eat when and how long it would take us to devour our treasures.

(Come to think of it, I wonder if my mom ever threw away a few pieces of our candy every day without us knowing so that we would ultimately not end up eating that much junk. Not that I do that…ahem.)

When it was all said and done and Brett and I were equally pleased with our final count, we would sit back and eat as much as mom would allow and rehash the night’s events remembering which house gave the best candy, who had the best costumes and how we nearly froze to death in the frigid Wisconsin weather.

Then we would head to bed, our stomach’s aching from over consumption and our head’s spinning from the rush of sugar.

Those are sweet (pun definately intended) memories. I miss my brother.

What are some of your favorite Halloween memories?

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Halloween, Holidays, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: Halloween, Tick or Treating

A birthday wish

August 29, 2009 by Kelli

There are certain moments in my life that I would love to live all over again. Several childhood days stand out as good enough to relive – most of college I would relive – not a ton of high school though!

One of those memories that I would love to walk just one more time is the night, eight years ago, when my brother and I walked the “streets” of the city walk in Orlando, smoking cigars and just talking. It was the first time the two of us really talked as adults. He was preparing to embark upon a mighty adventure in the Navy; I was a newlywed and living independently. We weren’t kids anymore.

It was the first time I recognized my brother as an adult. It was the first time that I realized how cool he was (he wasn’t just my goober-y little brother anymore). It was the first time I really realized that he and I had a lot in common. We had drifted apart during the years I was away at college, and in that late night stroll, a lot of healing took place in our relationship.

We talked about dreams, hopes, goals – all over cheap cigars. And isn’t that how life is figured out – over a pack of cheap tobacco?

I would do that night again. That was a good night.

Happy Birthday, Brett. I love you and miss you. Hope your 28th year sees your dreams become a reality.

You can read more about my “little” brother here.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Life