Illiteracy is No Excuse

Josiah took it upon himself to clean and organize his dresser top two evenings ago. I was thrilled and joyfully noted that all my cleaning and organizing is not going unnoticed and I ignored the thought that it may have been a way to stall bedtime. Cleanliness comes before bedtime!

Not surprisingly, the other two boys raided his newly visible area and ate and/or wasted most of his remaining Easter candy when Josiah was at school the next day.

If there one thing I hate to see wasted, it's chocolate candy!

This morning I noticed a sign posted on Josiah's dresser. It stated:

If you take some thing from my dresser you will haft to pay 10$.

At first I didn't see the "10$" part and I thought "Whoa... that's some threat! This guy is serious about protecting his stuff." Noticing the "10$" on the end makes it less physically threatening and seems quite wise to me. Now I'm thinking of creating a Money for Messes program myself.

Too bad the other boys can't read your sign yet, Josiah.

The Library is "Base"

Some days there is only so much little boy bickering, whining, and fighting a person can take without getting sucked into the yelling game. Yesterday was just one of those days. I had to remove myself from the situation in order to retain my sanity.

So I escaped to the library by myself where I looked for novels that I love to read by authors' whose writing I enjoy. *contented sigh*

I found two by one author (Ted Dekker) and one by an unknown-to-me author which I thought I would give a try. Both John and I should enjoy these three. Then I selected two more from Francine Rivers which will be just for me. *contented sigh again*

But I didn't leave my boys out completely. When I went to the children's section, I spied this: Walter the Farting Dog. It could have been in neon lights. I mean, there aren't many things funnier and more entertaining to boys than farts! Farts. *snicker snicker* The only thing more amusing to my boys is "poop". Poop. Bwahahaha! She said "poop"!

Book report: I think this is the best farty book I've ever read. There is boys' laughter and delight with every page. The end.

Wishful

Rainy Days

Disturbing Disappearances

Strange things have been happening around here... (cue eerie music)

Things have gone missing and not just any kind of things... things that are vulnerable have seemingly vanished without a trace.

These are well loved and well worn things... better known as worn out or BrOkEn toys.

Only one or two mortally wounded toys have disappeared at a time and ONLY every other day or so. It has not been frequent enough to arouse the notice of the young toy "caretakers". (I use that term loosely.) It happens when everyone is distracted or in the dark of night. Once it even happened when the boys simply looked the other way.

You may wonder how I have noticed....

I confess: I did it. I personally disposed of the toys... and I LIKED it. I did it quickly and quietly and I'm certain that I'll do it again. The urge is just too strong to resist.

This house has been a broken toy sanctuary for far too long; the boys' protests cannot protect the misfits if they are not vigilant.

Mwahahaha!!

Yesssss... I did it and I'll do it again.

Signed,

The Serial Toy Killer

Treasured Moments

Noah gets into his favorite and well worn book.

Go Dog Go!

Mostly Well Most of the Time

People have asked me how I'm doing and I know by their eyes that they are referring to my miscarriage. Most of the time, I am well.

Sometimes sadness sneaks up on me. At school lunch duty last week, being in the midst of all the children, I started thinking of all the different personalities and wondered what my child may have been like. I was feeling blue the rest of that day.

You may think that being around babies or pregnant women might cause that reaction but they don't to me. Rejoicing in the blessings of others brings healing.

Sometimes it is the casual comments of an acquaintance that jolt me. For example, I missed a week of work and one of my co-workers was wondering about the accuracy of the schedule since one person had not been there the week before. I told her that that had been me and that I would be here now needlessly explaining I had missed the previous week because I had had to go to the hospital. In response, she compassionately said, "Oh no, I hope everything was okay." I could not say that it was. "No. It's not okay. I had a miscarriage." To this she responds, "O my God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say." (Sometimes that is the best thing to say.) I tell her not to feel bad but now I'm sorry that she's worried and uncomfortable.

A friend whom I had not seen for a long time saw my boys and asked about them and their ages. "This is Nathan; he's four. This is Noah; he's two. And my oldest, Josiah, went in through another door." She commented on how big they are getting then pointing to Noah, she said, "He's your littlest? I guess you don't have a baby anymore!" That sinks in to my heart. "No. No, I don't" I don't tell her just how accurate that statement is. She was simply enjoying my children.

There have been other moments that grief has reared up but I am mostly well. Hope and joy remain.

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!" ~Psalm 27:13-14

Wardrobe Malfunction

I was getting ready for church on Sunday morning and my slacks are a bit long (because, yes, I'm short) so I need a pair of shoes with some height to them.

My silver platforms! At least that's what I call them. I'm not good with the whole shoe name world. "These will work great", I think ... until I crouch down to put shoes on one of the little gentlemen and I hear a SNAP then SLAP. That's right. The sole to my shoe just broke off. But the heel is secure.

So do I find other shoes? I need height. I can't wear brown with my black and grey ensemble!
Time is running out... I must decide quickly and I do. I grab my tube of super glue and glue that sucker back together. Success!

We finish getting ready, gather everything, and head out the door. As I come down the steps, the sole comes completely off again. There's no turning back now. Oh, no. The boys are in the car. I grab my sole and drive us to church with super glue tucked inside the diaper bag.

The shoe is still walkable but I'm off kilter and not able to glide so I assess the situation again. To glue or not to glue?

I look at my broken shoe; I look at my healthy shoe. Suddenly, it is clear to me what must be done.

I crouch again. Bounce a little. And I CRACK then pull apart my remaining good shoe. Yes I did. Now they're even.

This was the last walk for the silver shoes.

Good-bye, Shoes. You were fun and did your task well... even in your structurally compromised state. May you rest in peace.

P.S. I'm very thankful that I did not fall on my face even IF it would have made a better story. And what's up with the pictures posting sideways? I certainly don't know.