You give me fever

In eighth grade, three of my cousins came to live with us for a year. My cousin, Meagan, and I had always had a pretty unique, sisterly kind of bond even before she came to stay, so having her there for a year was like having a real sister for a time. We laughed, we fought, she took my clothes…

One thing Meagan and I always conspired to do together was try to get sick at the same time. If either one of us started to feel bad, we would drink out of the same cup, chew each other’s gum (I know, gross), cough in each other’s face in an attempt to both end up sick at the same time so we could stay home from school together.

It worked more times than it didn’t.

This is the part where you start to pity my mom.

One of the times we did this compeltely backfired when we both ended up with the nastiest case of strep throat imaginable. We were not enjoying our time off together. In fact, we kind of thought we were dying together.

We ran such high fevers that my mom had a mild freak out and we all trekked to the doctor, Meagan and I moaning the entire way there. Her fever was in the high 105’s, mine was in the 104’s. And we had done this to one another.

So maybe it’s a bit of cosmic payback that I have children who run fevers that settle in the rafters. I dunno, but last night as I cradled my daughter’s feverish body, her temp measured 105.5. Cue freaking out. Cold bath, cool rag on the forehead, medicine. All of it worked together to bring her fever down to…

103.5.

Not good enough. More medicine, another cold rag and a bit of prayer seemed to help. I laid down with her in bed, her little body all shaky and achy. “Mom,” she croaked. “I had a scary dream.”

“What was your dream?”

“I dreamed that I was dying.”

Cue double freak out. Poor, sweet baby girl.

We prayed and she quickly fell asleep. When I checked on her about an hour and a half later, the fever had broken. Of course she woke up at 3:00 hot again. She snuggled up next to me in bed and it felt like spooning a radiator. She talked in her sleep and I held her hot little hand. Together we weathered a long, fitful night.

This morning her fever is low and her eyes less glassy.

And this Mama, though exhausted, is quite relieved.

I also feel the need to apologize to my mom for giving her multiple heart attacks over the years when I spiked high fevers. So I guess this is where some of the grey hair comes from?

Anybody else have kids who like to run super high fevers?

It’s Like Butah…

Alternately titled: Sam’s Club Fail

Have you ever taken three children to Sam’s Club? Let me give you a break down of what happens.

Inevitably you will forget your card and will have to visit the customer desk where you will have to wait in line with everyone else who forgot or lost their cards. By the time you get to the desk, your children (who have already been on two other errands before this one) will be restless and annoyed. They will push each other and argue.

The older gentleman in front of you wil tsk at their antics and shake his head. This will make you want to encourage them to fight more out of spite. You will refrain and will ask them to please settle down.

When you finally have your temporary card in hand you will grab a massive cart and head down the aisles. You won’t have a list because you weren’t organized enough to get out the door with one, but you have a few vague ideas of the things you need. You will subsequently forget those items and will instead buy everything you don’t really need and will end up having to run out to the store again later.

Your children will mope and complain about visiting this store until you meet your first grandmotherly lady handing out free samples. Suddenly, OMG THIS IS THE GREATEST STORE EVER!

Now your children are angels, but you can’t keep them by your side as they are zipping from vendor to vendor asking for samples. While in the refridgerator aisle, you see a large box of butter and you think to yourself, “I need butter. I’m always running out of butter. I should buy lots of butter at Sam’s.”

And then you feel like a total diva because you are never going to run out of butter again because you had the forethought to buy it in bulk at Sam’s. You pat yourself on the back.

You peruse the boxes of butter, trying to decide which would be the best purchase. The children are at the table at the end of the aisle sampling fiber bars. You briefly wonder if that’s a good idea. As you’re looking, trying to decide between Country Crock or Land ‘O Lakes, you hear a cry and realize your youngest has dropped his fiber bar and is terribly upset. You grab the Country Crock box and toss it in the cart because really, who can resist Country Crock spreadable butter, right?

You will finally finish up your shopping with a full cart and full tummys and will toot your own horn AGAIN when you get out of Sam’s without having to take out a second mortgage on your home.

You will drive home and unload the groceries and you will wonder why on Earth you bought so much in bulk because you have no space for it all.

Finally, after it’s all put away you will turn around and look at the box of butter on your counter – like really look at it closely. You will then gasp and tear open the box to discover your mistake.

The 5 you saw on the side of the box when you hurriedly threw it in your cart was actually 500. You thought you were buying 5 tubs of Country Crock, but actually you purchased 500 individual packets. You quickly realize that these tiny packages will not help you when you are trying to bake a cake and need a cup of butter. You wonder how many of them you’d have to open to get a cup.

You frantically search for your receipt so you can return the butter.

You can’t find it.

Anywhere.

It has disappeared.

You now have 500 individual packets of Country Crock in your refridgerator.

The End.

I’m the Cruelest Mom Ever but Look at the Awesome Pics I Took of this Caterpillar, Yo!

Sometimes coming up with clever titles is just too much, you know?

It’s spring break ’round these parts. Well – it’s spring break for the public schools. My kids, however, are being forced to do school this week because I relish in torturing them.

Muahahahahahahaha…

Seriously. you’d think I was standing over them with a bowl of cold gruel and a whip barking “What’s the sum of 5+7!” They are in the dungeon of learning, folks. You should feel sorry for them.

In a lame attempt to garner a few meager cool points, I’m offering a lot of breaks and we’re starting an hour later than usualy each morning. This gives them ample opporunity to enjoy the awesome that is Florida spring weather and hunt lizards and caterpillars to their little hearts content.

And speaking of caterpillars, check out these photos we got today of the creeper we affectionately (and completely unoriginally) named “Spikey.”

So, in celebration of my lack of awesome, please tell me – what did you do today that was awesome?

The one where I confess a lack of mercy

I’ve taken a hundred personality tests in my life. If that’s an exaggeration, it’s only just barely one.

Okay FINE! I’ve only taken ten or twelve personality tests in my life, but it might as well be a hundred because they always say the same daggum thing.

The first time I really remember being subjected to the personality test was as a junior in high school. The test was administered and the results dissected and given to me in bullets.

– You like to take charge.

– You are skilled at leading and teaching.

– You like to be center of attention. (DUH!)

– You are a go getter. (Holla!)

– You lack grace. (Hmph.)

– You scored very low on mercy.

Awesome. So basically I’m a scary fame whore who will conquer the world at the expense of anyone in my path.

Wanna be my friend?

In college I took the test that determines your personality based on four different animals. There is the Lion, the Golden Retriever, the Otter and the Beaver. Guess which category I undeniably fit into. Go ahead…just take a stab at it.

LION! You were right. You guys are paying attention. A Lion personality possesses the following strengths and weaknesses:

Strengths– Visionary, practical, productive, strong-willed, independent, decisive, leader.

Weaknesses– Cold, domineering, unemotional self-sufficient, unforgiving, sarcastic, cruel.

I am a Lioness. Sleek. Shiney. Cold and Cruel? Can I buy a new personality somewhere?

Incidentally, I married a Golden Retreiver; calm, easy going, dependable, humorous, prone to fearfulness and worry and slightly indecisive. Everybody loves a Golden Retriever. And everyone loves my husband.

Apparently I just want to attack him.

So mercy is not high on my list of giftedness. My natural tendency is walk on by. Just ask my husband.

Wait…you know what. Forget that. Don’t ask him. No need to bring him into this, right? *nervous laughter*

I know that Mercy isn’t my first reaction and dangit if I don’t fight the battle. I am extremely empathetic and am prone to fits of blubbery tearfulness when presented someone else’s pain. I cry hard, I cry ugly and I feel deep.

But that’s more compassion and empathy. Mercy? Well, that’s a different story. Lion’s don’t operate under the umbrella of mercy. It’s not in our primal nature. And I am a Lion…ness. I work on my Lion-y tendencies every single day and I’ve made great strides. However…

Just read the following under that context.

Sloan has been laid up on the couch for the last couple of days with a fever and nasty chest cold. He shakes and quivers from the high temps and he has alternated between achy and nauseous. I want to feel sorry for him. I do. Because he’s my son and lioness or not, I’m still a Mama.

But I’m also a Lion.

Roar.

So today, despite the fact that his fever broke, he was still tired enough that he spent most of the day lying on my bed watching a movie. Actually watching Game 5 of the NLCS when the Cards beat the Phillies – because nothing makes an eight year old boy feel better quicker than baseball.

It’s scientific.

Sloan and I had a conversation that went something like this today.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some water?”

Me: “Okay. Just wait a minute, okay?”

Sloan: “Mom, I’m super thirsty and my throat hurts. Can you get me water now?”

Me: “Just a minute, Babe. I will. Just give me a minute.”

Sloan: “Mom. I might be dying. If I don’t get water, I just might die right here.”

Me: “Sheesh. Drama much?” I get up and go to the kitchen to get him water. I come back and hand him the cup and he drinks, then looks up at me.

Sloan: “Mom. Can you get me some medicine?”

Me: *feeling his forehead* “You don’t have a fever anymore. I think you’re good.”

Sloan: “No, Mom. I’m so stuffed up I can’t breathe. Please get me some medicine.”

With a small sigh I go back to the kitchen, get the medicine and bring it to him. He hands me his empty cup.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some more water?”

The Lion roars.

Me: “Not your slave, kiddo. You’re gonna have to get this drink on your own.”

Sloan: “But Mom, I’m soooooo tired. Please?”

I set the cup down and walk to another room. Just as I leave I hear Sloan mutter, “I thought Moms were supposed to always take care of their kids when they’re sick.”

Mercy.

A Golden Retriver would have had Mercy. A Golden Retriver would have gotten him more water and probably licked the side of his face and curled up next to him in bed.

I wouldn’t know. I’m a Lion. Apparently we just eat our young…

The rockin’ Lion photo was taken by my equally rockin’ sister-in-law, Becke‘, who is not a Lion herself. I would classify her as more of a Beaver/Otter combination. Am I right, Becke’?

So what about you? Do you know your personality type? Do you eat your young?

Re-Post: How to Go from Reverent to Irreverent Without Even Really Trying

My daughter woke me up before 5:00 this morning. Rather than go back to sleep I decided to get up and do some writing. I will probably regret this decision around 2:00 today but for now I plan to get slightly lost in my characters. Here’s an old post for a bit of fun. This moment still makes me laugh.  This was originally posted in November of 2010. Happy Monday!

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If ever you ask my seven year old to pray before a meal, I suggest you make sure you’re not starving. Because Sloan? He brings it when he prays. All I need is a tent and a white hanky and Glory, Hallelujah we’ve got a revival.

Landon and Tia, try as they might, have a very difficult time making it through one of Sloan’s prayers without sneaking a bite or four. Sloan has been known to pray up to five minutes or more. He thanks God for everything from his toys to the military. He prays for poor people and for everyone he can think of by name. He prays for his own attitude and, on any given day, could likely be heard praying that his sister’s attitude would change too.

Last night’s dinnertime prayer went something like this:

Dear Lord. You are the Creator. You created. Everything. God. You are our Lord. Thanks for being our Lord. And for being our Savior. Thank you for, um, the veterens (which he pronounces vechrins). Thank you that they protect us and keep us safe. Thank you for Mr. Nevil that he fought to protect our country. We are very glad for them. Thank you for the Army vechrins and the Navy and…um…the Air Force. And all of the people that serve. It’s just awesome that they do that for us. Give them glory, Lord.

We thank you for Jonri (our Compassion child), God. He is poor. But he’s not poor anymore because we can help him to not be poor. And thank you that he will get Christmas presents. We pray for all the poor people, God. We pray that they will have food. And toys.

Lord you are very great. God. Thank you for our family (lists everyone from grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins). Thank you for all my friends (lists as many as he can think of by name). And, God. I pray that I would have a good attitude. Thank you that I had a good day today and was nice and happy. And thank you that Tia was nice to me today and we could have a little fun.

*It’s at this point that Lee and I are trying not to crack up as Landon, with his head down and his eyes squinted open begins grabbing food and putting it in his mouth, then clasping his hands together again while he prays and chews. My grandmother would have told him he was going to choke for sneaking food during prayer.

We just thank you for everything you give us, Lord. And it is in your Holy, Powerful Name we pray…In Jesus Name.

Amen

It’s not hard to understand why Jesus commanded us to let the little children come to him. There is no holding back in the sincere prayers of a child. I am always blessed by Sloan’s prayers, no matter how lengthy they may be.

As soon as Sloan finished his prayer, we all echoed the Amen and picked up our forks to eat. But wait! Tia wanted to pray. So we bowed again. Her prayers are generally short, sweet and to the point.

Dear Wowrd. Fank you dat we have a gweat famiwy. And fank you dat you dive us dis food. And…well…amen.

Amen!

Ah the reverence. I was momentarily tempted to pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful, thoughtful children.

Then…

Tia looked down at the pile of beef stew on her plate and wrinkled her nose.

Is dis poop?!”

And thus, the reverence of the moment was totally gone. Sloan cracked up and Landon looked with great disdain at his plate. It took several minutes to convince him that I did not, indeed, prepare poop for dinner.

We started off grand, though, didn’t we?

Busch Gardens Fun

Alternately titled: Proof that I’m getting old because two days later I’m still worn out.

First order of business – I am over at (in)courage today talking about being uncomfortable. I’d love for you to read about the hope that God has placed in my heart despite the unsettled place I am in. Thank you for reading and for your support as I continue to work out the struggles of moving.

And on to my second order of business. Telling you random bits about my life…

We entered into our final ten weeks of curriculum this week and let me just tell you something – home schooling is exhausting. I’m wiped. Some days are jazzy fun. The kids get it. I’m happy.

Birds flit about the house chirping in perfect harmony.

But other days it appears that someone has tied a ten pound stone about all our necks, thrown us into the deep end of a pool and yelled, “Swim!” We stay afloat, but Lawdy we have to work hard.

The only things keeping me sane motivated are frequent scheduled breaks and Cuban Espresso. I like to call it caffienated sludge. It’s somethin’ potent, but it gets the job done. I feel great once my hands stop trembling. Come to think of it, the cartoon birds only flit about when I drink my sludge. Interesting…

Last week I laid out the kid’s lessons and gave them a great, big goal – finish it all by Friday and we will head to Busch Gardens. I wish I could adequately explain the zeal with which they attacked their Math books. Little tongues stuck out of their mouths in deep concentration as they worked through each lesson mothodically. Then they moved on to spelling and writing and Russian and reading and each time someone would start to complain I’d raise an eyebrow (which, incidentally, I never knew how to raise one eyebrow until I became a mom. It’s like I inherited that magic brow when my first born hit two) and they’d snap their mouths shut and put pencil to paper.

Call it motivation, bribery, reward –what.ev.er. We went to Busch Gardens.

I don’t have great pictures of the picture perfect reward day because who wants to carry a mammth camera around an amusement park?

Well, actually, I kind of do. I am going to bring my good camera next time because there are a lot of great photos to be taken there.

The photos I did get, though, were filled with three grinning, laughing, blond headed children who deserved a break. I am proud of my kids and the hard work they’ve put in this year. I’m not sure if we are going to home school again next year. We are still praying about it and looking at our options, seeking what’s best for them, for me and for our family. But for now, I am cherishing this sweet and challenging year I’ve had with my children. We have all grown and learned in different ways. I wouldn’t trade these months for anything.

 

This was his first big kid ride. I'm hoping he will be my child who likes roller coasters. No one else in my family will go on them with me.

 

Like my new tennis shoes? I was hoping they would provide a bit of motivation to work out. Turns out they aren't magical. They're just...shoes. Disappointing.

 

"Mom, I'm pettin' a Wallaby!" That might be my favorite quote of the day. Tia was enamored with these creatures.

Happy weekending everyone! May your days be filled with sun, laughter and maybe even a Wallaby or two!

So dainty and girly and…

The table was set to girly precision. Purples, pinks, greens and blues lit the room and danced around the table.

There is no greater thrill for the six year old girl than glass bowls, wrapped in ribbon and filled with candy.

The guests arrived all dressed to the nines. Skirts, dresses, hair bows and even a bit of glitter.

They smiled shyly as they each took a seat around the frilly table.

And at the head? The Birthday girl in a purple shirt, ribbon pinned proudly to her chest.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Cake was served immediately and each girl picked up her fork delicately.

The chatter was quiet and endlessly interrupted by delighted giggles.

And after the cake came the ice cream.

Of course.

You can’t have a decent ice cream party without it.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Colorful goblets filled with ice cream and topped with more sugar than should be legally allowed raised the decibel level of the room to a new level. High pitched voices joined in a cacophony of silly laughter and girlish banter.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

They ate with gusto. Tiny mouths lined in chocolate, fingers sticky, eyes glazed in a sugary daze.

And yet, there they sat so prim, each in her seat with a grin on her face.

When the ice cream was served, the room quieted again as young ones concentrated on eating their delights.

Image couresy of Avodah Images

Then one spoke, breaking the silence.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grin. “Or I’m gonna fart.”

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Cue uncontrollable laughter. Hands clasped over mouths and feet kicking.

And the potty talk commenced as each enjoyed tossing in her own gem of a quote.

Little girls.

They’re so dainty and girly and…

**********************

I only got a few pictures of the awesome and girly ice cream party, but my friend Jenni graciously offered to photograph the whole event for me and she got some amazing shots.

I think you should check them out.

Then check out the rest of her site at Avodah Images because she is a spectacular photographer. I’ve heard her say more than once that when she’s looking through a lens she sees God Himself as the world comes into focus. I love her heart and her pictures.

You’ll love her too.

If you’re ever in Florida and want family pictures made, Jenni is definitely your girl. She knows how to capture that one special moment and forever immortalize it for you. What a gift.

 

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

 


Wordless Wednesday – Childhood

Dontcha just love it?!

I’m headed to Blissdom today and am giddy with delight. If you’re going to be there, look for me will you?

I’ll be the minivan mom with the pink hair standing in the corner.

Wanna be friends?


No substitutes

I have now officially had my first experience of what it’s like to home school when sick.

It ain’t pretty.

While I have spent the morning coughing up my left lung (that’s barely an exaggeration) and blowing my nose, the kids have been curled up in bed with me reading books and going through flash cards.

 

Since Tia thought my voice “sounded weird” Sloan read to us today instead. He did fantastic. Except he kept reading the characters voice with a bizarre British accent, which cracked me up.

A more seasoned home schooler would probably just take the day off, but I have a hard time doing that without feeling anxious. Plus we have friends coming to visit so I don’t plan on doing school tomorrow and I will be out of town Thursday and Friday next week.

So we did school.

Russian flash cards

 

School in bed is fun!

We discussed atoms and how they bond together to form molecules, which join to create materials. The kids wanted to know if my snot was a liquid or a solid. Ah the joys of learning...

Sloan’s writing assignment today was to invent something and convince us to buy it so he wrote a commercial advertising his newest invention, the Robotic Room Cleaner 2000, which will make sure you never have dirty socks or underwear under your bed again, will eat your eggs for you and will watch TV for you when you’re grounded.

Sweet!

So I couldn’t call in a substitute today and it may not have been our most productive day of school ever, but I think we all learned a little something new. I’m going to chalk it up as a win.

What are you doing today?

“Laptop Homicide” – Part Two

We’ve all now had a few days to think about and discuss Tommy Jordan’s public response to his daughter’s Facebook rant. Once again, the internet seems divided to the extreme on an issue, this time the issue being parenting. On one side we have all those who wholeheartedly support Mr. Jordan’s dramatic response. These people hail him as a hero and a role model for excellence in parenting.

On the other side, we have the group that hollers for his Dad card to be revoked. They’re calling social services and the police (who’ve both come out and have applauded him for sticking to his guns…pun intended) and they all apparently have some kind of degree in psychology because they’re positive that his daughter’s rant was a plea for help due to what could only be a lifetime of emotional trauma suffered at the hands of her cowboy dad.

And then there is the group smack dab in the middle who are looking at this thing a bit more pragmatically and, dare I say, sensibly?

I had to laugh out loud at some of the posts railing against this father’s actions. One woman asserted that his daughter clearly felt used and if she didn’t want to make her bed then why make her to do such inexplicable task. Why not just do the chores for her in an effort to salvage the relationship?

Um…really?

Listen, parenting is hard. We all know that. There is no guidebook on how to do it and just when you think you’ve got it figured out, your next child comes along with a completely different personality and throws you a curve ball. Or the child you thought you had nailed grows and develops a little and you’re back at square one with learning how to deal with that particular child.

I have three children, all with completely different personalities. My oldest needs constant reminders and complete consistency in discipline. He needs detailed explanations regarding rules and consequences and usually needs to be explained “why” more than once.

My middle child has to be watched like a hawk because she breaks rules so quietly that half the time we miss it completely. She needs swift consequences but doesn’t want to talk about it. She likes to work things out internally and we have to give her the space to do that.

My youngest child is incredibly soft-hearted and can be broken with just a stare. He needs to be held close when given instruction and consequences have to be given much more gently than with the other two because his heart breaks easily. With just a stare from his daddy, he is prone to crumple in a heap of tears.

They’re all different and I know exactly what each needs in order to effectively learn. Does this mean I always deal with all of them appropriately? No. Sometimes I speak too harshly with my third born, sometimes I talk too much to my second born and sometimes I expect too much of my first born. I don’t parent right all the time, but I know what needs to be done to reach my kids.

I don’t agree with how Tommy Jordan responded to his daughter. I thought it was a bad idea to post something like that on the internet. But here’s the kicker – Tommy Jordan doesn’t agree with his own reaction, either. In hindsight, he wouldn’t do it that way.

Post the video, that is.

I have a feeling he’d still shoot the laptop and I honestly don’t have a problem with that. Could he have donated it? Yes. But I have a feeling that Mr. Jordan knew exactly what his daughter needed to understand how serious he was.

Because I think he knows his daughter better than I do.

I don’t fault Mr. Jordan for wanting to post his feelings about her note publicly. In fact, I think that’s a smart move. I’ve told my children before that if they embarrass me in public they can expect to be embarrassed right back. What I mean when I say this is I will verbally correct them in front of everyone watching if needed. Perhaps Mr. Jordan would have been better served to answer her note a bit more gracefully, but I wouldn’t fault him for posting it in the same medium she did.

That’s effective, if you ask me.  You did ask, right?

In the end, I respect Mr. Jordan in a lot of ways. He made a foolish choice and it will follow him forever. He reacted in anger, which never produces good results and he had to suffer his own consequences for his actions. But, instead of letting his daughter take the blame for what happened, he is taking the heat himself and in so doing, is modeling grace to his daughter.

I also respect the fact that he’s resisting the urge to jump into the mainstream spotlight for the sole reason that he wants to protect his daughter’s privacy. He himself has said that he doesn’t want to profit from the embarrassment this has been for his daughter and I respect him for that. He is handling the fall out from his poor decision wisely and in the end I think his daughter will learn more from that than she will from the consequences he has laid down for her.

I think there are a lot of things that we, as parents, can learn from this video. It opens up a great discussion on parenting with grace while also revealing some gaps in our society. The fact is, many children do feel entitled and they do believe that the world owes them something.

How else do you explain the Occupy Wall Street Movement?

If more parents were willing to stand up and say no, I won’t give you a free pass and yes, despite the fact that it seems inane and unnecessary, you will still make your bed, then maybe more children would leave home ready and prepared for the rigors of adulthood. We live in a society that says if you want it, you can have it (I believe this idea in and of itself to be riddled with faults, FYI). Once upon a time, though, it was understood that you had to work for what you wanted (whatever it was that was desired).

These days, though, there’s a frightening and pervasive thought that if you want it you can have it. Just wait awhile and let it come to you, or see if someone will give it to you.

As parents we cannot do this to our children. Parent with grace. Love your children gently. Teach them right from wrong decisively. And please…don’t judge one another.

Thoughts?