I CHOOSE...

I CHOOSE LOVE...
No occasion justifies hatred; no injustice warrants bitterness. I choose love. Today I will love God and what God loves.
I CHOOSE JOY...
I will invite my God to be the God of circumstance. I will refuse the temptation to be cynical...
The tool of the lazy thinker. I will refuse to see people as anything less than human beings, created by God. I will refuse to see any problem as anything less than an opportunity to see God.
I CHOOSE PEACE...
I will live forgiven. I will forgive so that I may live.
I CHOOSE PATIENCE...
I will overlook the inconveniences of the world. Instead of cursing the one who takes my place, I'll invite him to do so. Rather than complain that the wait is too long, I will thank God for a moment to pray. Instead of clinching my fist at new assignments, I will face them with joy and courage.
I CHOOSE KINDNESS...
I will be kind to the poor, for they are alone. Kind to the rich, for they are afraid. And kind to the unkind, for such is how God has treated me.
I CHOOSE GOODNESS...
I will go without a dollar before I take a dishonest one. I will be overlooked before I will boast. I will confess before I will accuse. I choose goodness.
I CHOOSE FAITHFULNESS...
Today I will keep my promises. My debtors will not regret their trust. My associates will not question my word. My *husband will not question my love. And my children will never fear that their *mother will not come home.
I CHOOSE GENTLENESS...
Nothing is won by force. I choose to be gentle. If I raise my voice, may it be only in praise. If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer. If I make a demand, may it be only of myself.
I CHOOSE SELF-CONTROL...
I am a spiritual being...After this body is dead, my spirit will soar. I refuse to let what will rot, rule the eternal. I choose self-control. I will be drunk only by joy. I will be impassioned only by my faith. I will be influenced only by God. I will be taught only by Christ. I choose self-control.

Love, Joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. To these I commit my day. If I succeed, I will give thanks. If I fail, I will seek His grace. And then, when this day is done, I will place my head on my pillow and rest.


Max Lucado - "When God Whispers Your Name."
*original - "husband" and "father."

IS THAT PIZZA I SMELL...?

I bought a new comforter set for my bedroom a couple months ago. My quilt was tearing in some spots and it was a long search to find a new set to match my tomato red walls. But I finally found it and I love it. So you'd think I'd be more careful.....

Yesterday was a typical day. Come home from work. Change clothes. Spend 30 minutes cleaning etc. Welcome kids home from school. Then GO!!! It's constant driving back and forth to practices, weight lifting carpool, dropping off at a friend's house that's too far to walk to. Constant answering of the phone to take messages for my busy children (the same thing I do at work, by the way) Constant answering the door to greet visiting friends.

But yesterday Paul was coming home late from a trip to Chicago and I decided that cooking dinner did not sound appealing to me AT ALL. So I pulled out leftover pizza from Sunday night. I even was so mean as to set paper plates on the counter and yell "pizza's done!!" and take mine upstairs to my bedroom where I sat on the bed and watched the news and ate a slice. Halfway through, the phone rang and it was a mom looking for her son...So I get up to go question Blake and when I come back... I can't find my pizza!! Turns out it was under my new throw pillow, which had fallen on it when I got up from the bed. So last night I pulled the covers back and smelled pizza. This morning I made the bed and smelled pizza. It actually is quite a pleasant aroma, but for the bedroom...? I have either hit upon a new romance builder or will be attracting raccoons in the near future. So I am going to try to Febreze it.

GUILT AND GOOFY GIRLS

Why do I feel guilty so easily? I was in line at Wal-Mart this morning before work and I had 3 packs of mini cupcakes from the bakery (for Kayla's slumber party tonight - to be mentioned later) and a man in front of me commented on the fact that I was buying them and not baking them. The ironic thing about this is that I have always been so hard on myself about making everything from scratch and always providing fresh baked items for the kids parties, school functions, etc. I have always insisted on making a couple of dishes for potlucks no matter how busy we are, even when Paul says "let's just pick something up at the deli..."Recently, though, I decided that PRESENTATION IS EVERYTHING. If you take some store-bought cookies, salad, whatever, and put it in a beautiful basket or dish - it goes a long way in making up for the fact that you didn't actually make it. So today I felt very tempted to justify my lapse by explaining that "really I usually bake but it's been a really busy week." Instead I just said, "yep, I picked these up myself right over there in the bakery."
Tonight is Blake's wrestling potluck and I had told him I would bring a gooey butter cake - a favorite family recipe that is just a little complicated because the batter is real thick and hard to mix. Well, I only have 3 eggs and it calls for 4 so I made no-bake cookies instead. Of course, Blake commented that "it really doesn't matter, I guess, but you DID SAY that you'd make butter cake..."And he said it as though he was saying. "Don't worry about me, I just haven't eaten in 6 days and I'm weak with hunger..." So what I was thinking was "is nothing ever good enough..?" Guilt
We got the note about the wrestling banquet after we had planned Kayla's slumber party. So here's the quirky thing. I am going to the wrestling banquet and Paul is taking the girls to the movie and to eat at the mall. People seemed surprised that we are "reversing gender roles." But I told Paul if there is any chance at all that Blake may get an award, or even have something great said about him, then I, as his mother, have to be there to be weepy. He could not argue with that kind of maternal manipulation. Besides I think the banquet will be more relaxing than "Scary Movie 4."
Girls are giggly and loud when two or more are together. Boys (at least here) seem to just settle in front of the video games and appear every two hours to eat the cupboards bare. Occasionally I hear things like "dude...I'm gonna kick your butt." That's it. With the girls, it is opposite, occasionally I hear a brief period of silence and start thinking that thing you think with toddlers "if you can't hear them, you better find them." Usually, with girls, I hear lots of giggles, squealing, and just really LOUD talking. GOOFY GIRLS.

YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME...

I am this close to having an "extensive criminal check" done on me.

Here's the thing. When I started my new job, I had to be finger printed. So I drive downtown to the county sheriff's office (where parking is horrible) and get that done. A week later, my boss comes to my desk with a note saying the FBI had refused my prints as "illegible" and I would have to go again. So I head back downtown and get printed again by the same nice young detective. The next day as I was turning the card in to my boss, I realized the nice young detective had not signed the form. Back downtown I go to get the signature. I was so relieved to get that mailed off and over.
Well, yesterday we received another note saying my prints had been rejected by the FBI as "illegible." I must get another set of fingerprints made and then if those come back unacceptable, an extensive criminal check will begin on me. By the way that black ink really is nasty and the "orange goo" they use to get it off is real gritty and stay under your nails all day...
Also, I have been to the sheriff's office so often, people probably think I am checking in with my parole officer. The detective asked if I wanted to wash my hands today and I just said "oh, I know where the ladies room is, thanks...."
Now, I understand the need for security at a brokerage firm. I understand the need to be cautious. But I work 4 hours a day answering the phone and filing the brokers' backlog of statements. I am a part time receptionist and my mantra regarding sensitive information is "I know nothing..." You know, like that german soldier in "Hogan's Heroes." I cannot give quotes over the phone. My computer does not allow me to access the quote screen. Fine with me. I cannot handle client checks. Fine with me. I am just starting to wonder what all the fuss is about with this fingerprinting and the possibility of a criminal background check (an EXTENSIVE one even) for a PART TIME RECEPTIONIST!!!!!

Oh, also today, I think I might have been sexually harassed. A client asked me how the weather was in Decatur and then proceeded to suggest I get off early to go lay in the sun in my bikini.
What I WANTED to say was:
1. Sir, you obviously have never seen me in person, or you would not even think bikini when talking to me.
2. By the way you sound about my grandpa's age.
3. You must be a HUGE client here to think you can talk like that - but it's just wrong no matter how much stock you own.
What I said was "what broker did you need to speak to sir?"

It's not that I had a bad day or anything. I'm just sayin'....

TO A BROWN EYED GIRL

Happy Birthday Kayla.
Twelve years ago today you entered my world on tears of pure joy and relief. After suffering two miscarriages before you, it seems I didn't breathe for nine months until I heard the doctor say, "it's a girl!!!" I had myself convinced that I didn't care if you were a boy or a girl. In fact, I just knew you'd be a boy and your name was going to be Nathan James. After hearing those magic words "it's a girl," I realized that I really had wished for a girl all along. What a moment!!

You showed your independence early - refusing to nurse at 6 months because you were too busy looking at your world - refusing to let anybody feed you at 8 months; I had to cook veggies and chop them so you could feed yourself - refusing to eat your 1st birthday cake until we put a spoon in each hand. You crawled at 6 months, walked at 10 months, poured cooking oil on the floor at 12 months, opened tooth paste at 13 months, started following Blake around at about 14 months, yelling "and me" so you wouldn't be left out. You wrote your name at 3 1/2 and started reading simple words at 4 1/2. Your favorite phrase to me was "I do it." Tim C. always said you had a huge belly laugh for such a little girl. And you did.

You have always been thoughtful - always putting the first gift under the Christmas tree, always reminding us to buy cards and gifts for Blake's birthday, father's day, mother's day. You always knew when library books were due, or when the movies had to go back to the rental place.

You taught me the true meaning of "breath-taking." I used to stand over your crib while you slept; and when I looked at your ringlets (yes, you had curls) around your Gerber baby face, I literally forgot to breathe. And always the same words escaped my lips..."Thank you God."

It's been a joyful dozen years, Kayla Beth. Happy Birthday.

I love you.

EASY AS A,B,C...

Do any of you out there go through batteries like my family does? Seems we are always looking for a battery, despite our little storage bin that we keep for just that purpose. I blame our batter operated lifestyle on the kids, you know. Walk-man, game boy, etc. Of course there are the recent storms that have made us careful to have working flashlights handy.
Well, Paul turned 40 last week and he got the coolest gift from Menard's. Yes, Menard's. Seems if you have a Menard's card you get a coupon for a neat gift every year. This year it is a great battery organizer with a charge checker on top. It holds several batteries in all sizes - D,C,AA,AAA, and 9V. He hung it in the utility room and was calling out to Kayla how many of each size he would need to completely fill it. I heard him say "3 double A's, 4 C's, 2D's...." I couldn't resist asking if they were buying batteries or bras. Kayla lost herself in giggles.
Anyway, this is a really neat little gadget they gave us and we now feel like there is one tiny little corner of our world that is quite organized. And if you want one of these thingys, they are 9.99 without the birthday coupon.

I HAVE A JOB...OR DOES THE JOB HAVE ME?

Those of you who heard the sermon at Northside on Sunday morning, can hopefully understand where I'm coming from on this. I couldn't really think of something I've been putting on a pedestal above God - as far as things I enjoy. I know there are things, they just weren't coming to mind. Probably because I have been allowing myself to worry too much about this new job.
I've decided that just as our pleasures can come before God, so can our worries.
I've allowed myself to worry about the adjustment period of this job - that time of learning and fumbling through the day that comes with each new job. I've worried about cutting off the clients and brokers on the "golden list"- people who must be put through on the phone NO MATTER WHAT. I've worried about not adapting well to the computer. I've worried about being accepted by the other secretaries. I've worried about the adjustment at home.
After hearing Gary's message, I realized that all those things are insignificant compared to God's love for me, and my hope of Heaven, and the countless blessings He has given me and the sacrifices He has made for me. Those mistakes, when I make them, are rubbish, dung, caw-caw. I doubt any of my mistakes are going to cost a client money. And I KNOW they are not going to affect my salvation (my college roommate's favorite saying - "not gonna affect my salvation.")
I also realized that I was not giving God the true glory He deserved for this job. By worrying and fretting, I have not allowed myself to fully enjoy this blessing. Here's what I used to say about going back to work:
If only a job would just fall in my lap...check.
I'd like to find an office job at a small company, not a lot of stress to bring home, maybe just reception work...check.
Part time would be ideal, with Paul's travel....check
Wouldn't it be great to get summers off, but then I'd have to work at the school, wouldn't I...check.
I AM grateful. I have asked the Good Lord several times what I ever did to deserve this ideal job. I finally realized over the weekend that I wasn't working this job - I was allowing the job to work me. It had me in the grips of worry and self doubt. I guess my self confidence took quite a beating over the past 15 years raising these kids of mine. So now when I make a mistake, I will tell myself: "they need me here," "not gonna affect my salvation," and the most beautiful of all....."it's caw caw."

It feels kinda' weird - this job thing. I like it and all, but I'm surprised at how strange it feels to have this change after 15 years. Every evening something just dawns on me, "oh yeah. I go to work in the morning."

My first day was really long and boring. I spent most of the 4 hours filling out paper work and reading manuals. Since I am working for a stock brokers' office, there is pretty tight security with new hires so the paper work was pretty lengthy. I just finished it up this afternoon with my boss. I really prayed last night that today would be better - more exciting. I finally got my phone at 2:00 this afternoon. I get off at 2:00. But I answered and successfully transferred 2 calls before I left so I at least feel like I can go in tomorrow knowing that I will have work to do. There is going to be so much to learn and I really don't want to feel stupid so I have been praying that I learn quickly, that the staff is patient, and that I feel confident in myself.

I had to report for my drug screen yesterday afternoon. Ok, I usually cannot go 1 hour without visiting the restroom. So I sauntered on back knowing that this was one thing I could excel at. WRONG. It took me 3 tries to give a big enough sample. I had to drink 2 glasses of nasty tasting water. The lab tech was very nice ( I am there a few times a year for blood work so we kind of know each other) and said she's had people take 2 or 3 HOURS before. Finally I knew my kids were getting off the bus so I made myself perform. I felt like a toddler being potty trained, I was so relieved to fill that cup.
Do all of you know exactly where your original SS card is? I thought I did, but when my boss said he needed it to confirm my ID (strict security) I couldn't find it. So I had to go get a copy of my birth certificate instead. I did that before I was finger printed at the sheriff's office. That was fun too. But they have this ORANGE GOOP to clean your hands. If you have boys, you need orange goop. It was magic.

So tomorrow, I think I get to sit at my own desk and start learning my job. Please pray for me - that I will stop being nervous and will feel confident in what I'm doing. And keep checking. I'll probably have some good stories over the next few days. No inside information, though.

The words that struck fear in my heart...

Mom, I want to do summer wrestling. NOOOOOOO! Congratulations wrestling, you have replaced baseball as my least favorite sport to watch - except for 9-12 minutes out of a 9 hour meet. I even told Blake I may not go to all the meets. I can't believe I said that. I always go to my kids things and act as their biggest cheerleader. But summer wrestling? An un-air conditioned gym with 300 spectators and 15o sweaty wrestlers in the middle of July? Well...you go once and then see if you judge me.

I would go to every meet and love it if they went something like this:

Sign in. "Oh, the Woolards. I hear Blake is one of the best wrestlers out there. And quite a handsome man. And is this Kayla? I know she is the up and coming softball pitcher to look out for and even prettier then my own daughter. And is this Mrs. Woolard or your older sister? Mrs. Woolard, have you lost weight?" Then somebody would PAY ME for going in to watch.

Notice Rules Board.
1. No cussing. If you need a thesaurus, ask. But please expand your vocabulary.
2. No making your kids feel lousy. Anybody caught doing this will be made to wrestle that really big coach from the team in the yellow and black uniforms.
3. No yelling "down in front!" Look around you remember where you are.
4. No saving a whole row of seats. You are not in 7th grade anymore.
5. Leave your babies at home. We love babies but they are miserable here. If you need child care, see Mrs. Woolard.

Meet nicely dressed college prep - type guide and listen to him/her say "Welcome, here is your pager. It reaches to the Wal-Mart on this side of the gym or the Target on that side. We will page you exactly 22 minutes before your son wrestles. Both stores offer 20% discounts to wrestling moms. If you choose not to leave the building, please enjoy our mothers' lounge. There you will find 3 years worth of People magazine and 2 big screen televisions. One will be showing Dr. Phil all day and the other will be showing Denzel Washington movies. Except Man On Fire because we don't like him so sad and haunted. Oh, and that Mrs. Fields counter over there - it's free. At noon we will bring you a chicken salad on croissant and a diet pepsi in a styrofoam cup with crused ice. Also, our starbucks opens at 9:00. It's also free. If you decide to take a nap, just dial 9 on the phone and leave instructions for a wake-up call. Any questions? Well, I know your son will win. And did I mention how thin you look?"

See? It could all be so simple....

these boots weren't made for running...

Is it true that if your feet stay cold and wet, then you'll catch a cold? If so, I will be sniffling until July. My feet have been cold and wet for two days. Wanna know why? Cause I delivered papers in the blizzard.
On the day of the blizzard I war my new snow boots. I bought them late in the season (50% off!) and also bought Blake some because his old boots are a size 9 and he is wearing a 14 now. I also bought Kayla some because....well, we found some cute ones on sale for her too. Anyway, mine are realy cute - Land's End, suede, mid calf length, and they zip up the back (not quite so handy after all) But they are comfy and look pretty good with my pants tucked into them on a snowy day. But. They are not made for running. I wore them in the blizzard, and the day after for the paper route, and I ran alot to get done quickly. Well, yesterday I noticed a big blister on my heel. By last night it had popped and my sock was sticking to it. So yesterday and today I had to wear my tennis shoes, which left my feet cold and wet. It still hurts to walk - I am kind of walking like this: step, ow, step, ow, step, ow. Today I did no running; not necessarily because of the pain but because I noticed Blake wasn't running. Well, if this 14 year old athlete doesn't have to run then his 39 year old mother who has a blister on her heel doesn't have to run either.
So there. And the good news is....Paul gets home tonight and I don't intend to get up for this paper route tomorrow or the next day. No Alarm clock. As my mom used to say on Friday nights "tomorrow morning, I'm gonna sleep 'til I wake up!"

I kinda just want to eat my dinner and go.....

Kayla and I just ate and Texas Roadhouse and my cheeks hurt from smiling and being polite to the wait staff for an hour.
See, when Paul travels, I usually take the kids to dinner one night. Well, Blake could not squeeze us into his schedule so it was just us girls and Kayla picked roadhouse. I know I'm getting old because I think that place is just too loud. Anyway, we walk in and the kid gets the rolls and then I know the script. He will lead us to our table and while he is walking he will turn backward(which, by the way, could be dangerous) toward us and ask "Have you been here before?" I wonder what would happen if I said NO. Would he stop and scream "Hey everybody we have a first timer."? Would I get my meal for free? Would we be hazed in some way. So when we say YES he will say "welcome back."
Thank you, I'll say. Then the waitress will come and say "Have you been here before?" Yes. "Great. Then you know about our homemade bread, our salads, homemade dressing, our steaks, and our fall- off- the- bone ribs...?" Yep. Know all about that. "Ok then, can I get you a drink from the bar?" (Well, if this questioning keeps up, probably) No, just iced tea and a diet pepsi. "Ok, then how about an onion blossom?" No, thanks.
I know, I know. They are just trying to be nice. But really, don't most of us know how to behave in a restaurant? Don't most of us know to look at the menu and let them know if we want an appetizer? Aren't most of us smart enough to order the drink we want without being reminded there is a bar in the restuarant? I mean, I have never heard a person, when asked if they'd like a drink from the bar, respond with "oh my gosh, you have a bar here? I had no idea. Thank goodness you told me. Yes, please bring me a cocktail!" It just seems like such an effort to be polite and keep smiling when it takes 15 minutes just to get to the point of giving our order. Even Kayla said about the waitress "she is really perky!"
And it's not just restaurants. Seems you can't make a purchase anywhere without being asked "do you have our rewards card?" "Would you like to sign up?" "Would you like to receive a free subscription to....?" "Would you like a special low interest Visa to save even more at Sears?"
Arrgggggh!! I just want to give you my money and take my purchases home and hear somebody say "ya'll have a good day." Simple as that.

Kayla has been invited to go to Harding's Spring Sing. A wonderful young woman at church has invited her. My first thought was that she'd get bored for three days with nobody else there who is her age. Now we have found out that some friends from here in town are also going.
Here's the thing. I dread letting her go. I totally trust the person taking her and I know she will have the time of her life. It just seems that about six weeks ago she started having the same busy social life as Blake. I'm not trying to hold her back. It just seems to have snuck up on me and said "Boo!!" - this growing up thing she has done. For a couple years it was just a way of life - that Blake was on the go all the time and Kayla was home being the little sister that never got to do anything. Now. Whammy!! She's on the go too. She has always loved to go places and spend the night. When she was 4, she stayed with my mom for a night. Well, it started out for one night but she called about 6 times in one evening trying to expand her visit. I finally said "put Grandma on the phone." So I told my mom that she should quit letting Kayla call me - it was running up her phone bill. Grandma said "I didn't know she'd been calling you...." Yes, Kayla had learned her phone number and used it quite nicely to turn her one night trip to Grandmas into 3 nights. So I know she will have a great time. I took a poll at lunch today and my two best friends said let her go. So I guess we will. She will be gone on Easter Morning, but she doesn't seem to mind that. She will turn 12 two days after she gets home. She doesn't seem to mind that either.

get your mind out of the gutter....

OK. First let me say that my son's science teacher is a pretty sweet young woman. I came to this conclusion last summer when she was my son's chaperone on a 4 day trip to Washington D.C. with about 50 jr. high students. She happened to get the group of kids (about 12) who got stuck in Chicago overnight on the way home. They were broken into 3 travel groups and they came back on 3 separate flights. Wouldn't you know my son was one that got the extra night away. This poor woman looked as though she had been through a war zone when she got off the plane. She was exhausted. But she was very complimentary of the kids and said how patient and repsectful they were and how they handled all the mishaps with great attitudes. The kids were just coming down from some sort of caffeine/sugar high. Seems they discovered Starbucks in the airport and decided to use the last of their money buying one frappucino after another. So Mrs. C has earned my respect and admiration.

That is why it has been hard for me to confront her on a couple of issues. First my son wore a sweatshirt to school that said "one night at fight camp..." it is a wrestling sweatshirt. He came home and said she told him not to wear it again. So when I asked her about it she said that the phrase "one night at band camp..." comes from the movie "American Pie" ( I think) and it refers to something sexual. Well, we didn't know that and I really believe Blake didn't know that. So we won't let him wear that anymore. Now Blake has come home and said he got in trouble for naming his paper airplane, which was a science class project, "The Pocket Rocket." She told him he could either write an essay on the inappropriate nature or...something else...I can't remember. He said, "Mrs. C I don't know why it's wrong. It's the name of an actual motorcyle on the market - a mini bike for kids." So she dropped it.

Now I don't fight battles my kids don't want me to fight, but Blake feels wrongly accused and I don't blame him. So I have printed off a picture of the "Pocket Rocket" motor bike and enclosed it with a (hopefully) very respectful letter to assure her that it is a legitimate product and his name for his little airplane came from just innocently copying from that. Maybe he is in violation of copyright laws but I don't think his mind was in the gutter.

I am not naive enough to think that teenage boys don't love potty talk. But in this case I think Blake was misjudged. When he first told me about this I thought "well, she needs to get her mind out of the gutter and stop assuming everybody else's is there too." But I'm sure dealing with jr. high kids on a daily basis can make one pretty cynical on occasion. So I don't want to judge her too harshly either.


So that's that.
Now to my favorite world traveler; I hope you are having a good trip. We miss you. Our circle doesn't quite close when you are gone....

If you don't have anything nice to say.....

I am not going to blog today.
Because I don't have anything real nice to say and I think I would complain too much. So I am not going to blog.
If I did blog today I would probably tell everybody:

I got a new job yesterday after 15 years as a stay-at-home mom and my husband was flying across the ocean and couldn't share the excitement/fear with me. I don't blame him at all but I sometimes get really tired of dealing with life's big deals (and little deals) alone.

I delivered papers in a blizzard today and disappointed my son because we were 30 minutes late. Later I found out the office left a recording on their line telling customers the paper may not come at all. You mean I didn't HAVE to get out in this weather? I didn't even have to pull out of my driveway, let alone drive those country roads? So, paper customers...since you really didn't have to get a paper at all today, let's see some big TIPS on next month's statement!

I drove into somebody's yard today because I thought their circle drive was smaller than it is and I couldn't see a thing. I really hope the snow and wind picked up after that to cover my tracks. Of course, it was the home of the "hot girl from Warrensburg" who Blake talks to on the phone. So I guess if you have tire tracks in your yard you can ignore that TIPS comment.

Note: the preceding two items occurred before dawn today.

I talked to my mom last night and she shot about 12 verbal poison darts at me for not contacting her over the weekend. I gave a baby shower for 70 people on Saturday and spent most of Sunday in Bloomington (the best part of my week) and my husband left for London yesterday so I kind of wanted some time with him. But no matter how many times I apologized and she said "oh, it's ok..." she kept coming back to the fact that none of her four kids called, she didn't come to Decatur because I didn't return her call, blah, blah, blah. I have 2 brothers and a sister. I say spread the guilt evenly.

I bought new work clothes yesterday and beat myself up because they weren't the size 4 or 6 I wore when Kayla was 2. I am on 2 medications that have made me gain weight but, believe me that side effect is better than the problem. I have 2 friends who went off one of these meds because of the side effect. Fine, be miserable. At least I feel good everyday. But there is still that wistfulness......And shame on me for letting it matter.

My house is a wreck.

So, I am not going to blog today because that is all I would talk about and none of it is really positive.

They like me. They REALLY like me....

Well to those of you who read this blog (yes, both of you) - thanks for your thoughts and prayers regarding my job interview. I was offered the job and I will start on Monday. He wanted me to start at the end of the week, I think, but I told him I had some loose ends to tie up. What I really meant was that I need to get my hair colored and go shoe shopping.
I have to be finger printed and drug tested next week. I also have to get my references sent to him.
My husband is on his way to London. It's kind of lonely coming home with such news and have nobody to share it with. But at the same time, I haven't felt this validated in a LONG time. My husband is tremendously supportive and respectful of me, but I guess to feel valued by somebody else just feels a little better than it probably should.
So. I will be hanging up the blue jeans and sweat suits and tennis shoes and looking for some professional attire. Frankly, I kind of dread it. I'm not a fan of skimpy and tight so it may be a little tough to find something that does not look like something my mother would wear.

On the bummer side of life - We might be getting a snow storm tonight. That is good if you are sleeping in and missing school. But we have a paper route. This will be our first time to run the route in bad snowy weather. Blake has given his notice, though, so we only have a couple more weeks. So, if we are snowed in tomorrow (after throwing papers) I will spend the time cleaning out my closet. That could turn into a week-long series so keep checking in.

Ok, you know those people at funeral homes who tell you where to park your car and direct you inside and tell you where to stand, when to blow your nose, etc....Well, do ya'll think they get paid extra to be snotty?
We had a man yesterday at the funeral of Paul's grandma who was downright rude to us. He ran up as soon as we pulled up and said "Grandchild?" "yes." "Well, then you need to park in the driveway." No we could not leave the van at the end of the driveway or move it after going in to let Paul's parents know we were there. It had to be moved NOW. When Paul asked if this really had to be so complicated the man said "yes it does sir, we have people to get to the cemetery." And he wasn't polite about it. I told Paul later he should have broken down right there in a sobbing heap and started wailing about his poor lost grandma. I say families pay these folks alot of money to bury their loved ones; these people should be willing to dress up and come jumping out of our cars like so many clowns in a circus act.
I know, I know.. not all of them are like that but some of them are so uptight; they act as though the funeral has to be run like the academy awards - when you hear the music you must stop your crying and exit stage right.

Also, we got a call from Blake's paper supervisor today. Seems we missed a customer the other day. Yes it was on the sheet the next day "customer found no paper." But this customer warrants a separate call because he is the publisher of the paper. Something does not seem right here. If he is the publisher of the paper and works at the office; when he misses a paper, do we really need to take him one the next day or COULD HE PICK ONE UP AT THE OFFICE WHEN HE SHOWS UP FOR WORK?????? So the supervisor says to be sure and leave this guy a paper because after all he is the publisher. Well, we are an equal opportunity family and he is no more important to us than our family dentist, or our home builder, or Blake's math teacher, or the 95 other customers to whom we deliver (and who have no access to a hundred free papers at their places of work)

So...a couple people have irritated me a little bit these last couple of days.

COLOR ME LUCKY

Here is my cell phone conversation with Paul from yesterday:

H: Hi. I am at Dollar Tree and they don't have the napkins I need for the shower and I won't be home in time for the kids if I run to the party store. Can we stop by the party store on our way out of town?
P:Sure. But I'd be glad to stop by and get what you need as I pass it after work.
H:Great. Write this down. I need a pack of luncheon napkins in green - think John Deere Tractors. And a pack of luncheon napkins in yellow...
P:what should I think in yellow...?
H: Sunflowers. And a pack of beverage napkins each in the same green and yellow. Also, beverage napkins in blue - Navy blue. Not trojan blue*. Also, beverage napkins in red.
P:(jotting things down ) Noooot trojjjjjjan bluuuue. Naavy. Now for the red, just red...?
H:Yeah, just red. Thanks. I love you.

30 minutes later at home:

P:I am at the Party store and I am having napkin issues.
H:well, then forget it, honey, I'll do it tomorrow, no big deal.
P:No, it's fine. They don't have any John Deere or Sunflower napkins in luncheon size, they only have dinner size. They are a total of 2 inches bigger.
H:That's fine. Get those.
P: Do you know HOW MANY colors of napkins and table covers they have at this store?
H: yeah, isn't it fun.....? That's why I had to say John Deere and Sunflower....

*Trojan blue is royal blue. Trojan is our school mascot. Could we have a WORSE name? We are actually the MF Trojans.

So this is the kind of guy I have. I occasionally ask God why I was blessed with him. Whatever I did to deserve him, I'm tickled pink.

Yikes! Maybe this job interview thing isn't such a good idea. I'm working on my resume and it is hard to make 15 years of raising children sound impressive to most of society.

My career pre-children was pretty exciting. I was responsible for the care-plans and admission records of 127 mentally ill residents - most of them schizophrenic. I made it through state inspections from the Department of Public Aid and Department of Public Health. I butted heads with my boss daily if all 127 beds were not occupied. No resident- no state payment you know. She had never heard the old "can't get blood from a turnip" thing I guess. If there is no mentally ill person needing our services out there today, then where should I find one...? Anyway, I really liked that job most of the time. My field work for college was in the VA hospital in Little Rock. I worked in the Primary Care Clinic and the Oncology clinic. So I HAVE done important adult work in my life. But now...

Most people aren't interested in the daily grind of life for a homemaker and mom. You know,
balancing two sick kids on the day you are responsible for organizing and serving lunch for 60 school staff members and your husband is in Toronto. Or sending one kid in for surgery to finalize the repair of his broken finger, the day after the other kid breaks hers on the softball field - while your husband is in London. Two kids with casts on their hands at the same time looks a little suspicious - but anyway...
How about feeding and controlling six hungry 13&14 year old football players after practice LOTS of times (try walking into Blake's bedroom when they are all in there before their showers......whew!)
How about driving a van load of kids EVERYWHERE because your house is the kool-aid house and it just seems natural now that every seat will be full. ( Has NOBODY thought of putting a sound proof shield between the front and back seats??? Are none of those engineers parents?)
How about being called at 11:30 one day and hearing "Mrs. Woolard, Mrs. Beal's class has no Valentine Party organized for TODAY at 1:00 - could you throw something together and come in...?" Now that's organized AND brave.
How about french braiding 4 girls' hair in 15 minutes because they had to look alike for their volleyball game. Now that's staying calm under pressure.
But all this - as all mom's know is hard to put down on paper. You just gotta live it. And I know it's not just stay-at-home moms who juggle and struggle. Working moms have it worse I'm sure. I have just finally come to that point in my life where I really feel like I have to justify the last 15 years of my life. That's hard to do on a one page resume.
I wonder if they'd like to see my photo albums..........

This road we call life...

I loved High School. I got straight A's. I had lots of friends. The teachers liked me. I had a social life. Every week in senior calculus, my friend Janie would pass me the same note -
"Are you going to the game Friday? Want to do something afterward?" And then we'd make our plans, either to ride the fan bus to the away game or to meet for the home game. Basketball or Football. It didn't matter. Just so we met and spent the evening with our group of friends. Living in a home with a clinically depressed single mother, school was my safe haven. My place to be what I was supposed to be - a teenager with lots of potential. At home, I was often the parent, the youngest of four kids who had the responsibility of being my mom's companion and making sure things were always ok. I still carry that responsibility, but that's another blog.

I was reminded of my love of high school this weekend at that state basketball tournament. The student section was awesome. Some students gave up their seats on the floor to move to the top section to sit with other kids. They were great. There was every imaginable combination of blue and yellow clothing, hair color, jewelry, socks, shoes. They were all just thrilled to be there showing their support and enthusiasm - and individuality. They were truly just delighting in the happiness of being together. What else was there that weekend? Nothing. Nothing but their perfect teenage world.

Then on the way home Friday night, we got a call from Paul's parents. His grandmother was dying. So we fed the kids and got them settled with friends and drove to Pana to sit with his parents in the hospital by Grandma's bed. We had gone from the breathless, giddy joy of youth to the dying breaths of a precious 95-year old mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. We stayed for a couple hours and were told to go on home - nothing we could do. We offered to send our kids to the tournament the next day with friends and come back to spend the day on Saturday. No, his parents said. Enjoy the day with your family. There's not a thing you can do and you need this time with your kids. We enjoyed our day with the kids and on the way home at about 8:30 last night the cell phone rang. We knew. Grandma had passed at 7:17. I know one thing for certain. My mother and father in-law decided not to call when they knew we were in that stadium. They had decided not to call and take away Paul's joy of the moment. They were very SELFLESS in that. One other thing I know for certain. My mother would not have given me that gift. She would have made sure the sadness and misery were spread as soon as she had them in her hands. I will always appreciate my in-laws for that; for thinking of Paul and for loving him enough to allow him every last drop of joy before flooding him with the sadness that we knew was coming. And now, after canceling a business trip to Belgium, Paul will be their pillar. I know he will. That's just the kind of man he is. I hope I can be his pillar.

What's with this unity thing, anyway...

It's everywhere in our little community. All generations - preschoolers to grandparents. People are missing work for it; school has been cancelled for it. Tears have been shed over it.
You know...School Pride.
We head to the state tournament tomorrow. Another check written for tickets, more money sent to school for yet another "school spirit" t-shirt. Fresh yellow and blue ribbons bought for the braids the girls will wear. Vans all over town with their windows painted with our school colors, favorite players' numbers, basketballs, megaphones. You know, all united for the cause.

Why isn't it that way for the Church? I don't know how many times in the last 18 months I've been asked "isn't that the church that....?"
You know, some churches have praise teams, some have a song leader. Some sing songs 300 years old, some sing songs 3 years old. Some let women pass the plates, some let women only work in nursery. In some, a man never sets foot in the nursery unless it's to serve communion. We interpret the scripture this way, they interpret the same scripture that way. Our kids wear jeans to morning services, only "church" clothes allowed in others.
All the differences aren't a problem until....we judge each other and declare each other wrong.

How can so many of us - all from different economic, religious, educational backgrounds come together to support a basketball team, when only a small portion of us even have a child on the squad? Because we want to show our school spirit, our community pride. We want to show that we support what this coach and these students have done.

But, even those of us who are huddled under the same umbrella of church names, can't unite for The Cause. The cause of Jesus - showing Him, living Him, being Him. So what's with this unity thing anyway and why can't we get it right?