The votes are in....

and it appears that we are a like-minded bunch. With the exception of a few (who I presume to be men taking pity on Tim so that he will some day return the favor when their wives decide to make them the brunt of a cruel joke). And so, this leaves me with an ethical challenge. How much fun can I really have with this and still be a loving wife? It isn't a matter of submission. I mean, Tim never told me NOT to use him as fodder for my slightly demented wit. It's really just a matter of boundaries. I can do boundaries. HA! Let the games begin.

This won't completely humiliate Tim and it will be fun for all of you. When Nathan was two-ish we must've had some spare time on our hands because we created a new Fortune 500 company ---(drum roll please)

CRS -The Cabbage Replacement System

Looks and feels like real hair.

Women will want you. Men will envy you.

Your children will want to be JUST like you!

CRS -available in produce stands everywhere.

=)

Clueless

Several of you have asked and well, believe it or not the boy is still clueless. Hasn't checked the blog and doesn't know what he's missing. A few of you weak-hearted readers have even suggested tipping him off via email or other hints. I'm ashamed of you. How could you ruin this fun for me? I'm glad you love Tim but come on...all's fair in love and yadda, yadda. I just want to be in the room on the day he finally checks in.

But since I am not completely heartless (okay, I am but let me have this one delusion please) I have posted a viewer/reader poll -see top right corner of web page. I figured dear Tim may fair better if his future is in YOUR hands and not mine. =) So, vote away and we'll see what's in store for my unsuspecting hubby.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.....

This is a test. This is only a test.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a person out there who NEVER (unless he happens to look over his wife's shoulder) reads the blog. If you are reading this right now then you can safely assume it is not you. So, this is just a simple test to see how long before I hear from that certain person about this post. This will give me a good idea of how often he actually checks in on people who are of great importance to him. =)

America's favorite past time

Tim thinks I hate baseball. I don't. On the contrary...I actually give partial credit to baseball for the fact that Tim and I were virgins when we got married. Seriously, Tim would come to my house for a date and end up watching the Atlanta Braves play on TV with my grandparents. I would fall asleep and he would wake me up a few hours later. Abstinence was a lesser struggle during baseball season. =)

But despite the games contribution to our moral fiber, I honestly can't think of a time that I would, in my right mind, look at Tim and say, "hey, let's go to a baseball game." Nonetheless, at the prompting of my husband and excitement of my children we loaded the crew up and headed out for a Durham Bulls game on Sunday night. We chose the cheapest tickets available..."the lawn" was our designated seating area. I should warn you in case you decide to take a similar outing some day; the lawn isn't what you think. In the name of true advertising, I would like to petition the Durham Athletic Association to more accurately name this area "the grassy lump". It's a hill. One small and quite steep hill at the back of the stadium just behind center field. Steep enough that we had to form human barriers to keep Bella from rolling head over heels. If she ever got going there would be no stopping her until she hit the concrete wall at the bottom.

To make matters worse, we were sitting right in front of the digital time/temperature screen and we were facing the sun -97 degrees when we arrived. Add to the heat my utter stupidity. It wasn't until the third inning that I realized I was the only one whistling and clapping when the team in blue made a good play. This may have been because the Durham Bulls were wearing WHITE uniforms. I didn't feel quite so stupid when the blue team won the game but I kept my enthusiasm in check lest we add "mauled by crowd" to my reasons for not enjoying baseball.

Are you with me so far? grassy lump, potential death for my youngest child, 97 in the sun, did I mention no sunglasses, and I can't figure out which team to cheer for...what's not to love about this? Well, perhaps it was the moment when I reached to get something from the diaper bag and felt an instant shot of pain through the back of my arm. It was a horribly familiar pain- honeybee. I haven't been stung in years! After a string of frantic euphemisms, Tim removed the stinger from by arm. I'm allergic to honeybees. Swelling, rash, hives, the whole nine yards. I regained my composure and took slow, steady breaths. It had been so long since my last sting (maybe 8 years old) I had no idea how mild or severe the reaction might be. We decided to wait it out and I figured if need be I could get immediate medical attention by simply rolling down the hill and onto center field. Could anything salvage this night for me?

Yep. The clouds rolled in and temperature dropped to a breezy 84 degrees, the itching and swelling only covered most of my left arm, my husband got to eat "the best hot dog ever" (it just tasted like a hot dog to me. I think his taste buds were affected by how much he paid for it), I got to see Nathan's big ol' smiling head on the jumbo tron during the seventh inning stretch, and using my trauma as leverage, I downed almost an entire bag of cotton candy all by myself. I still don't LOVE baseball but I do love my crew and if they decide to love baseball well, bring on the Benedryl.

Snack Shack update

Snack time is going well and continues to grow. We've added several kids to the list of regulars and they are hanging in there with the verses. This past week we added a new dimension to the program. On Monday, Nancy Foss -teacher and friend from church who lives just down the road- came to do a Bible story with the crew before they got the new verse. I had no idea how it would go. I knew there was a good chance the kids would love it and an equally good chance that they would be annoyed by so much structure and just choose to leave. BUT I underestimated my partner in community. She was on the ball.

Nancy brought a "treasure chest" and gave each child 3 tickets. If they caused any disruption during the story, they lost a ticket. If you lost all your tickets, NO treasure chest for you ("Soup Nazi" style =)). A few got close, losing two of the three tickets but in the end everyone pulled it out and got to choose a prize. The story was David and Goliath and our verse for the week was "People look at the outside but God looks at the heart" 1 Samuel 16.7. (the New Amie/Easy For Kids to Memorize version) We had 15 kiddos plus one young mom listening in the wings. Very cool. Next week -Queen Esther.

While I've encouraged the kids to really learn the verses, they usually hover around the picnic table before I come out and remind anyone who can't remember it. Technically, sure, it's cheating BUT as my pastor's wife says, you learn to measure success in different ways. 10-15 kids "cheating" to say a Bible verse feels like a success to me.

Mamoune's hair

Some of you may recall that this time last year Mamoune had a scalp infection which was slowly but surely destroying her hair. The picture below is kinda gross but it's good to see how far we've come. By the time the infection was cleared up, she had lost about 60% of her hair.

It was quite sad and she spent a very long time wearing various scarves, bandannas, etc. A few people thought I'd just become a lazy parent and didn't feel like braiding her up but this was not the case. There was the possibility that her hair was permanently damaged and would not even grow back. We watched anxiously and breathed a sigh of relief as new growth began to pop up. Once the new hair reached a uniform length we decided it was best to shave everything down to an inch so it could grow out together. I thought she looked great with the short do (pictured here). But let's face it people, little girls want to look like little girls. Mamoune was not so thrilled. It took a lot of encouragement and some help from Miss India.Arie's "I am Not My Hair" video to convince her that she could be proud of her new look.

And now, after much waiting, we decided that it was just long enough for a perm (that's a relaxer to straighten the hair for our Caucasian audience who know perms to be something used to curl hair =)). I had to remind Mamoune that the perm was not magic and she wouldn't suddenly have hair down to her ankles but that it would give her a little more length to style. We think it turned out pretty good. Nice and girly.

I am a big, fat, loser...

with emphasis on the big, fat, loser! After handing out the verses on Monday and explaining the new snack system, Tuesday came. We had many errands to run -Home Depot, Pier 1, Walmart, etc. I blew it. We didn't get home from our shopping run until 4:15. No kids in the yard, no kids on the porch, no kids anywhere. ugh. Then Dylasia (11) comes from across the street with her brother Tivon (6) and reports that "some other kids were here waiting on you but they had to go home." double ugh.

I was feeling really crummy about things until yesterday, when the kids who had been so eagerly waiting for me (and heaping guilt on my head in so doing) showed up and acted like they had never heard of or seen the verse I gave them.

kid: Can I have a cookie?

me: Tell me the verse.

kid: What verse?

me: The verse I gave you two days ago and told you to memorize if you wanted a cookie.

kid: We s'pose to learn that?

me: uh, yeah, that was kinda the point.

There were some who received grace and "hints" to earn their snack for the day and others who not only didn't know the verse but had sorry attitudes to go with it and they got nothing. A guilt-free nothing! Maybe today will be better.

In other loser news, it's been brought to my attention over the past two weeks what a weirdo mom I am. Exhibit A:

While grocery shopping the week of Tim's absence, I noticed that the Chef Boyardee was on sale and thought that it would be an easy and nice change from our usual PB & J so I started grabbing cans. Nathan, Mamoune, and Isaiah begin jumping up and down and almost in unison say, "Mom, that's the stuff we've seen on TV!" I look at them in disbelief. Haven't I bought these before? It turns out -no, I haven't. I knew that I was careful not to load up on processed foods but what the heck? I lived off of Ravioli growing up. Even after Tim and I were married, I would eat them for lunch daily (throw some shredded cheese and a few jalapeno slices...mmm). Yet here I have deprived my children of this joy. No wonder they disobey -they aren't getting enough enriched macaroni product in their diet. Not to mention the disodium phosphate. I mean there's less than 2% in each serving and they aren't even getting that! Not anymore. Move over green beans, we are clearing a space for the Chef!

I wish that were the end of my confession but it gets worse. Oh yeah, brace yourselves!

Exhibit B:

On Tuesday's grocery run, I picked up 10 packets of that great American staple. The stuff kids in this country are grown on -Kool Aid. This time my food sheltered crew said, "What's that, Mom?" I couldn't even bring myself to answer them. How could I explain that I've robbed them all these years? How could I ever make up for their ignorance of red 40, yellow 5, and blue lake 7? A moment while I hang my head in shame. . . . .

As I was mixing this mystical potion of childhood years gone by, Mamoune screams to the boys "Come look! Mom's making water that looks like purple stuff." Purple stuff? sigh. There you have it. My soul laid bare before you. I am a disgrace to my breed.

I can't even look you all in the face. I type with my head turned.

The Bible and Little Debbie Snack Cakes

I've come to a recent conclusion...I was not meant to be in children's ministry -apart from the four that live in this house and there are days I question even those. And yet, here I find myself in kid-central station.


My sweet, wonderful husband says to me, "it would be great if you can find a way to engage with all these children in the afternoons." This is close to the look I gave him only with less joking and more "you must be kidding me!" I thought easy for you to say since you're uh, NOT HERE!



I think he has an unrealistic view of my abilities. The truth is I crash everyday around four o'clock. (you will notice that this is being post just shortly before 4 -I'm on the descent even as I type) After trying to entertain, organize, home school, feed, and discipline four children for seven hours, my body goes into self-preservation mode. I hit the couch and turn on the previously mentioned reruns of Reba. It's my cheap version of a trip to the spa; mind-numbing, deep breathing, relaxation for 30 minutes. I can feel the blood boiling in my veins as child after child knocks on my door asking for water, snacks, potty, and sometimes just to stare at me like only someone who has never paid an electric bill could do. Those attributes of Christ in me :patience, joy, a serving heart are hard to identify at this point in the day.


But after some soul searching and brainstorming I came up with a plan that may work for all of us. Here is where Little Debbie comes in. The kids de-bus and begin gathering around 3:30 pm. Today, I printed off 15 copies of a simple Bible verse: "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say rejoice!" (yes, I needed that one as much as they do) I handed out the slips of paper along with an oatmeal cream pie -a freebie BUT not for long. Anyone who wants a snack at Mrs. Amie's house after school must say the pass phrase from memory. Each week the verse will change. Several of the kids got right to work, some won't take it seriously until they are watching their friends down a cream pie without them. Either way, I get to contribute something of value to the crew and in some small way feel justified while I enjoy 30 minutes of selfish zoning. oops, 3:59 -gotta go!


=)

Bella Photo Favorites

First swim -thanks Roger and Elizabeth!

Before the dunk.

After the dunk.

July 4th picture by the "not so useless" photo shop master Michael Cook!

I'm A Survivor

I like Reba. Always have. Maybe it's just the red hair but I've liked her music and I like her TV show. I'm particularly fond of the character Van. He is a simple-minded goon -I can relate. Anyway, the point of all this was that we survived the week without Tim.

For those who didn't know, my hubby was away on a pastor's retreat from Sunday until Thursday afternoon. It was a bit traumatic considering we've been in a new house for only a week and were all getting acquainted with the new neighborhood and new sights and sounds. But we did it and it wasn't so bad...long, very long...but not bad. Lots of people were praying for us and it was obvious. Tim came home on Thursday and we were so glad to see him. I like him. A lot.

We are still putting the finishing touches on the new house and will be for the next year or so it seems. Mamoune's room got a paint job yesterday and all that's left are the hallways/laundry room. Some of the curtains are up, some have been made (thanks Deb Paradis) but are not hung and some are yet to be made (uh, Deb? =))

The school bus drops kids off right at the corner of our house and each day around 3:30 the craziness begins. Children of all shapes and sizes converge on our yard. It's great and challenging at the same time. So far, the regulars are Jayla, Zion, Trajin, Jivan, Cameron, Rakeem, Markeif, and John. I saved the hardest name for last. ha! It's been fun but we've had to lay down some ground rules to keep the chaos down. Rule #1 -nobody plays IN the house unless I meet their parent/guardian first. I've met two moms so far.

One of the best (recurring) moments is when a newcomer arrives and gets a first look at us. Adults are so well behaved and careful but kids, they just say what they think. "That's your mama?" "That's your daddy?" My kids hear this question almost daily. They don't seem phased by it. One little boy felt it was necessary to point out to us that "you don't look nuttin' like your kids". We were taken aback. Seriously? Do you guys think that, too? Well, unfortunately we haven't gotten around to hanging mirrors in the house so we can't confirm this information. ;-)