The lesson stuck, I guess

We went to lunch at my aunt's house today, and while I was helping the boys get their plates of food, Beaver says to me, "We can't eat this yet, we gotta pay for it."

Budding cartoonist

While sitting in the aforementioned service, the 4-year old draws this. He says, "Mom, who does this look like?"
"Well, I'd say it looks like Charlie Brown, Beav."
"No, Mom. He has greasy hair, so it's Linus."

Change isn't always good

We went to the Saturday night church service this past weekend. I was looking forward to an inspirational, yet thoughtful service that was contemporary yet respectful. It was...different. Not bad, just different. I'm used to the guitar at church thing, we had this at a few masses growing up and at high school mass. I'm even used to a more loosely structured service. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I had trouble following what we were doing at times, and the music was decidedly so modern, I almost felt it wasn't reverent. I wanted to leave the 16th century, but not the 20th century. I don't think we'll never go back, but we probably won't be regulars. Maybe I'm just an old curmudgeon about it. I don't want to leave the liturgy, I just wanted a makeover. I think I got plastic surgery. Well, maybe next time....

Blow like a bubble on a windy day

Start to flutter when I hear you say

That you feel to good to go away

And you make me feel fine

Youve made my world a warmer place

By the sparkle of your diamond face

On a frayed spot, put a little lace

And you make me feel fine

Warm as the mountain sunshine

On the edge of the snowline

In a meadow of columbine

--"Ripplin' Waters," Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Creation Station

I took Beaver today to Creation Station, something that I've long wanted to do with any of the kids, and today was a good day for it. Very cold, grey skies, and yet this place was really cool. A large wooden boat for the kids to climb on, lots of stations with different toys and activities, crafts and stories. It was such a nice time playing with Beav. We then stopped for a snack: cheez-its for him, and cookies for me. We picked out a few Christmas gifts for his brothers (we'll see if the secret stays), and came home. What a nice morning, just the two of us. "Mom, I'm your buddy," he tells me every day. I told him "and I'm your buddy." That's not going to last forever, so I'll take it now.

Unlikely Words

"Mom, can't we please have sauerkraut?"

Yes, they are good German stock. The oldest even asked for the spicy ground mustard.

Where in the world was I at 7:30 this morning? In the dentist's office, reading old copies of "Family Circle" and listening to two things: Clay Aiken doing a bad cover of "Uptown Girl" and the Bear, wailing because they were about to drill.

Sunday School Lesson

I taught the Sunday school today. The lessons are based on the gospel that day. Today's gospel was Matthew 25: 14-30, which is the one in which the Master gives a certain amount of money to three servants. To the first he gives 5 coins, which the servant doubles through business. The second one gets 2 coins, which he invests and earns double back. To the 3rd, he gave one coin, which that servant buries in the ground, afraid someone might take it. The lesson, of course, is a pretty obvious one for kids (and grown-ups, I suppose): Whatever your talent or treasure, or gift, be sure to share it to the glory of God, in the hope that the return is great. You may help someone else, you may spread the gospel, but if you hide it or don't use it, it is in essence, wasted. "Use it or lose it," I guess is another way to look at it.
I used it to talk about Christmas lists. The kids make lists of things they want for Christmas. But this time, I asked them to turn the list into things they can do to the glory of God for others, using what they had. We had a girl say she could do karate, and she'd teach her little sister to defend herself. We had a boy say he liked sports and could be a good sport and model it to others. Buzz offered he could wiggle his ears, and make people laugh. Good gifts, really.
This got me to think about another side to each of our "gifts," and perhaps even from whom we've inherited some of these traits. I had been thinking about this anyway, so it was an appropriate topic for me this week.
Every morning, Beaver gives me trouble about eating his breakfast, especially in a timely manner. It drives me crazy. Then, I realized, through my aggravation, that I, too, am not a huge breakfast eater, either. I'm just not hungry. In fact, I would rather wait a good hour or two before eating. Bear is a sensitive person, very caring and empathetic. He also cries at the drop of a hat over things like "we're out of popcorn." I, too, can be overly sensitive and so afraid to hurt someone's feelings that I might sacrifice my own. But that's not a gift, per se, it's just a quality. Let's try another one.
Buzz is a sentimental fellow. He saves literally everything, because everything has meaning to him. It's a curse because I find scraps of foil, sorry, future metal hats for Lego men, and I carelessly throw them out. Or there was the last rubber band he found on the playground before they tore it down to move it.
Going through my stuff, I have my first driver's license; a poem I wrote on a scrap of paper, just because I liked it; a broken watch that a former boyfriend gave me (why do I have that old thing anyway?). It's a curse because the stuff proliferates. You simply can't save all of it.
Let's turn it into a blessing to share: I have a good memory for odd trivia--not as good as my sister's--but I remember lots of details. I have a good memory for numbers, measurements, addresses, even the social security numbers. I know what medications my in-laws take and when their appointments are, so that if something happened, I know a possible explanation. Birthdays, anniversaries, dates--pretty good at that. Buzz is, too. He remembers events that occured when he was 3 years old. He is very interested in history and geneology. He is fascinated by all the tedious steps in how a combustion engine works. Rube Goldberg is a hero to him. In the end, my hope is that these sometimes "aggravating" qualities of my children can be turned into true gifts they can share with others in some way.
So, yes, using your talents appropriately is a blessing and necessary. It's also easy to abuse them too. A born leader may end up acting like a dictator; A musician or actor may end up in the wrong end of the industry. A "free spirited" person may forget to pick her kid up from school. Knowing how to incorporate your talent correctly can be difficult.
A friend of mine was contemplating what she possibly could offer another who seemed to have everything. I told her she is obviously in the person's life for a reason--that she filled some sort of gap. That person who has everything, probably envies that my friend lives more simply, or that she is incredibly organized and efficient. So in other words, we don't always know how we are using our gifts, we just are without knowing it. And as I told the Sunday school class, simply having the gift of hearing allows us to be good listeners, at the very least. And what friend doesn't need that gift shared?

Guest poster: Buzz

Dreams are a big deal around here, from my infamous "cupcake" dream, to the dream the other night about the "Vienna Sausage Factory." This is an exciting post today, because Buzz is going to be our guest blogger today, and he is going to share with us his exciting dream:

I dreamed that I was at this place called "the Sir Francis Drake Pancake House," and it had been rebuilt three times because of a little pelican. The pelican would talk so much, that the walls would fall down. I dreamed that I was in a group of 3 people that reinforced the walls until the pelican stopped talking. The pelican started talking, and the walls started shaking. We gathered some beams and propped them against the walls. As far as the giant Paul Newman face on the front, it could withstand all the shaking. The pelican kept blabbering on about the history of the Sir Francis Drake Pancake House. When it finally stopped talking, the two halves of the mouth swayed back and forth but then the pelican started talking again before we could do anything about it. All the walls fell down except for the face. And then we groaned and the dreamed ended. The pelican went "Caw!!" and flew away. About 2 hours later, I dreamed the pelican went through the window, went "Caw!" and pecked me on the neck. He then flew out the window and I woke up.

TC 2-nite

Top Chef, season 5, people. Tonite.

Questioning the logic and safety of this one

We have long had the "widow maker" branch hanging over the front yard, held in place by what appeared to be two small twigs. Every storm, windy day, whatever, I thought, "this'll be the day. It's coming down." It never does. Today I had had enough of watching sway slightly in the breeze, mocking me, and I thought I would just take the thing out with a few good tosses of the football. My accomplices, never to let something this exciting to pass by, say nearby in the previously mentioned "war wagon." I tossed the ball a few times, and the branch, still dangling, would rock and sway, and the soldiers in the wagon shagged the ball for me. Then, while I was retrieving the ball that rolled into the street, the oldest thought he should try, by throwing a bat into the tree. Then another thought he would throw a badminton racket. So now we've got balls, bats, rackets flying. I'm not that careless--they all had helmets on, which was good when the wiffle ball bat came down on Buzz's head with a pop! I then said, "guys, better let me do this." One last toss and down the branch came. The war wagon veterans came to my aid, stomping and breaking the dead limb into pieces. My heroes! And, at the least, the scary limb is gone.

Avast, ye mayteys!!

The boys are into this thing they call "The War Wagon." They've also got the neighbor boy across the street involved, I'm sure much to the dismay of his parents. They load up the wagon with wiffle ball bats, plastic toy rakes and hoes, a water gun (empty), and start at the top of the driveway. Three are inside the wagon, the fourth, the "pusher" is at the back, pushing them down the driveway and jumps in, sort of like the 4-man bobsled. Only instead of all 4 of them ducking and driving as fast as they can, they all scream, brandishing their weapons, flying across the court until they arrive on the other side. The dogs in our area love this, too, and are chasing along after them, while the boys all yell "Aaarrrrrgghhhh!" waving and shouting. They don't actually fight anything, or each other. They simply repeat the process over and over. It's riot to watch. And, it's funny when a neighbor girl comes out--she is frequently chased away by the masculine screams. I love my boys.

Budget crunchy, over?

Well, I guess not really. But it did seem that after I posted the menu for the week, my week plans got altered. So far, this is what I've got:
1. Chili (never got around to it)
2. Soup/sandwich night (potato soup? Sausage/potato chowder?)
3. Fish tacos
4. Pork tenderloin with roasted veggies
5. I'm thinking......probably chicken parmesan or something like that.
I'll try to actually stick to it this time!

Family fun-for-all

We like to do a lot of things as a family, but probably one of the top 5 is "whole house hide n' seek." There are a few exceptions to the "whole house" thing, such as 1) no bathrooms (biohazard), 2) no laundry/workroom (chemical/mechanical hazard) and 3) no Daddy's office (Daddy hazard). It's a great game for the rainy/too cold days, too. What is funny is that I am really, really good at it. I can also get a little work done while "hiding." I have been known to take laundry to the laundry room--this doesn't break the rule, because I'm not actually hiding there, it's merely a stopoff to the hiding spot. Bear is also getting really good at it, too. He knows to hide and be quiet, while big bro Buzz is into jumping out and shouting "AH!" at the "it" person. My best hiding spot this past Saturday was in my own unmade bed.

Pretty fall day

What a pretty day...we took lots of pictures, Mom got vertigo watching the kids get close to the cliff's edge. (That's why Dad is with the crew--I was desperately holding on to a tree)

I personally don't get it while I'm by the edge, but watching the kids makes me spin!

Yee-ouch!

Does anyone else think the knife is awkwardly placed?

Time change went through, elections are done, school, work and home are still the order of the day. Yet I am still surprised by things on a daily basis. Bear came home in tears because he felt "forced" into voting for a candidate because someone told him the other one would steal our money. Buzz is upset because he stands alone politically among his friends. Beaver voted for Bert in the "Ernie vs. Bert" elections at preschool. I told him, really, Bert is the more responsible of the two, and he made a good choice. He says he's changing his mind.
Here's another thing: I am frequently surprised that friends, good friends, respected professionals, do not share my political/social views. I almost feel deserted--which is dumb, because it's their opinion, not mine. But I still have enough type A in me to want to take them aside and say "Do you really know what you're doing? This is what you're saying, and it's wrong." We all get so emotionally attached to elections. Yes, taxes could change, laws could change, constitutions rewritten, but it's nice to know that in my house, it's still roughly about the business of work, home, school, church for my 3 little guys. Some things are constant and therefore comforting to them.

Beaver's Outlook

Over the summer, we were watching some rabbits out the sliding door to the backyard. I asked Beav if he thought the bunnies were cute. His reply "Yea......I'd like to eat 'em. First, I'd catch him, cut him up, and eat the ears." We were doubled over with laughter at that, because he really is a gentle sort of boy when it comes to animals and smaller creatures. We are also aren't hunters, though we have no problem with hunting.
Well, apparently, that wasn't the end of it. Tonite, my husband asks Beav if he'd like to see "Kung Fu Panda."
From Beaver: "Yea...I'd like to eat him. First I'd cut the legs off...because then he'd stop kicking."
Almost sounding like the beginnings of a serial killer, I know. He really is a good little guy. Really. Now... where are my knives?