Two Princess' and A Rock Star

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Caution, objects on this blog are more sarcastic than they appear.

So earlier today, I thought it'd be funny to share a picture of my husband acting like his goofy self, and modeling the wig we bought for Sporty's Halloween costume. I think he was going for the Fabio look in that image. Unfortunately, my sarcasm didn't translate very well in this one-dimensional blog world.

Thankfully he can laugh at himself as well as make myself and everyone around laugh with him. In fact the picture below is such a great shot because as usual he was making me laugh.

So thank you honey, I always smile brighter when I'm around you.

But I think it's safe to assume that we've eliminated long blond hair as a style option for you!

More Frightening Than A Man In A Cheap Blond Wig

This whole Halloween thing is keeping me up at night.

Literally.

It started a few weeks ago, when I went into the Halloween section of T@rget to pick up a little gift for a friend. The life sized Witch on display got Posh's full attention. She talked about it as we were leaving, and I was a little concerned that it might have scared her. It did, but she was able to move on.

Then last week, we determined that we were in need of a wig for Sporty's costume. Hannah Montana hair to be exact, so off we went in search of those golden locks. First, we went back to T@rget, but having navigated those aisles before I was able to avoid the witchy woman. Alas, no wig, so off we trucked to W@l-mart. No wig, BUT we were treated to the sight of a life-sized zombie who could completely remove his head from off his shoulders. He had been placed right in the middle of the main aisle so that you couldn't miss him. WHAT A TREAT! Next was P@rty World - again no wig but we did enjoy seeing all of the hairy looking vampire bats with blood drippings, and a group of nasty looking skeletons.

And finally, with no other options, we went off to the local Halloween store. One of those places that pops up in an empty retail shop for just this season. As we neared the entrance, I could see that they had mercifully place the children's section right near the front. Piece of cake. We walked through the doors, and all we had to do was quickly walk past a 7 foot tall butler, of the undead variety, holding a silver platter with dead rats on it. Yeah ... sure thing.

We did find the wig, but I think it cost us more than the $9.99 on the price tag. What they neglected to put on the tag was sleep. Sweet, precious, blissful sleep. Now, dark figures with glowing eyes chase my little Posh in her dreams. It's terribly heartbreaking. (and, at the risk of being permanently disbarred from the "mother of the year" club, it's becoming a tad inconvenient) :(

On the up side, we are now able to see what Baby Spice would look like if she had hair.

Unfortunately, this image will haunt my dreams for quite a long while. (*Updated to add that this is actually a picture of my husband goofing off. He's typically quite handsome ... you know without the long blond hair and all!)

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

Several weeks ago, our family was given the opportunity to attend a large Christian concert here, all five of us together! WOOT!! It was a sort of Jesus-palooza type of thing that had some amazing artist like Tomlin, Barlow Girl, Toby Mac and Super Chic[k]. We met some friends of ours there and while the guys generously sat with the kids up in G.A., I got to rock it out with my friend Kellie down front. It was so much fun!

It appears though, that I may have missed the real show. In the midst of Leeland's set, the guys took this photo of my baby girl. Surprisingly, she was not reaching for food or bubby-gum, nor was she trying to rip some hair out of the heads in front of her (none of which would have surprised me). Nope, she was just lifting her hands in worship and singing along with the crowd around her.



While I pray that one day her hands, no longer dimpled with baby fat, will worship from a grateful heart, for now I'll cherish her little baby imitations.

Jesus loves the little children ...

Because 'Fabulous' knows no age limitations

Sister's hat ... check
Other sister's glasses ... check
Mom's lipstick ... check

The girl KNOWS how to throw a look together!

I'm the Mom ... that's why!

My friend Lisa sent me this video. She said it made her think of me ... I'm choosing to see that as a compliment! ;-)

And if you're a mom, it made me think of you too, so here ya go. Happy Weekend!!



Thanks for the laugh Lisa! For more info. on Anita Renfroe, go here.

Eat Your Veggies

Last night during our devotions, Sporty and I read the story of when Elijah was taken miraculously up to heaven out of her bible. Before we started I told her that Elijah was a prophet and asked her if she knew what a prophet was. Here is the following conversation:

Me: Do you know what a prophet is?
Sporty: Jonah was a prophet.

said with a smirk and the same cadence as the song from this movie. As in:
"Jonah was a prophet, (Oo-ooh)!
But he never really got it (Sad but true)!"

M: Riiigght. Elijah and Jonah had the same job, so what was Jonah's job?
S: Ummmm, (thoughtfully holding index finger to lips) He delivered messages from the Lord! (also helped along with lyrics from this song, from the same movie.)

So we talked about why there were so many prophets in the Old Testament, (they spoke scripture before the Bible was completed and before people had eleventy hundred versions laying around their homes) And then we talked a little about what a prophet might look like today to which she said:

S: Seedee! (spelled phonetically for you. It's our name for Ben's dad.) Seedee is a prophet! He delivers messages from the Lord to people far away.
M: (contented sigh) Yes, baby, yes he does. :D

And there you have it! Proof that an asparagus can teach the bible, and so can a middle e@sterner. Both a worm (that fancies himself a caterpillar) and a grandpa.

Seedee with his girls at bedtime. Their last hug before he left to do more prophety type things.

FYI

To all you sweet, sweet people who actually think I lift up my vents when I vacuum based on the last post .... Um NO! If the two year old child had the foresight to actually put the vent back into place, I probably would have been forced to buy new shoes before I figured out where that shoe was!

I'm Sure Marie Curie Drove Her Mother Bonkers As Well

Vacuuming up after lunch, I came around the table to find a discarded Capri Sun package, and one of my shoes.

In the AC Vent.



Clearly not the best use of our ventilation system.

Circle of Life

He once graced the wall of my teenage bedroom in all his 21 Jump Street glory.



Now his face is splashed across my daughter's book bag.

*sigh* I suddenly feel much older.

The Scarecrow and I Might Carpool To The Wizard

Yesterday I was given a few blissful hours of complete freedom. It. Was. Heaven!

Part 1 of Alone Time:
A bit of Eschatology washed down with a good cup of coffee

I grabbed my St@rbucks gift card* and flew out the front door. Once there, I ordered my drink, found a table, and settled in with my Daniel Bible Study. This is a Beth Moore study that I've been devouring inhaling working through with a group of ladies from church. Oh mercy has it been sweeeeet! We have just passed the halfway point in the book of Daniel, so we're now on Chapter 7. If you're unfamiliar with the book of Daniel it switches gear pretty drastically at the halfway mark. As in, we are no longer playing in the sandbox with familiar stories from Sunday School, we are now bracing our legs and gritting our teeth in a sand storm of deep Bible prophecy.

I have successfully avoided studying eschatology (study of End Times) for years, but not for lack of opportunity, I can assure you. Besides, Ben has studied this stuff out, he can fill me in ... right? The thing is, words with approximately 20 syllables just scare me, as well, my very visual mind can't comprehend some of the mental pictures found in Daniel and Revelation. When something has seven heads and ten horns, my brain says "That does not add up! You've got three extra horns now ... whataya gonna do with those?" Clearly symmetry was not God's goal, yet I consistently strive to find it.

However, I'm ready to tackle it now. Bring it! I can take it. i think.

So there I sat; Bibles and workbook out on the table, creamy cold coffee beverage in left hand, pencil with ample eraser in right. I was ready to dissect Daniel like that poor frog in my 8th grade science class. (And let's be clear, I botched that job pretty good as well.)

Five minutes into it, two lovely ladies sat down right across from me. Fairly quickly I was able to determine that they were fellow sisters in Christ, residents from Texas, here in the area to drop off their son/grandson at the Christian college down the street. Obvious clues were their prayer over sandwiches, the healthy sprinkling of "y'all" and "Bless you" (not for sneezes) and the intense discussion of someone's 'state of rebellion'. (OK that, and I overheard them telling another customer "We're from Texas, here to drop off my grandson, her son, at the Christian college down the street." The way I can just piece those cryptic clues together is simply amazing. Just call me Nancy Drew.) I'm sure that my stack of Bibles clued them in to my beliefs as well. However, while their conversation was chirpy and happy (all except for the short 'state of rebellion' discussion) the joy of the Lord was not quite bouncing off my table like it was theirs. I can only imagine what their impression was of me, as I often held my head in my hands, took deep cleansing breaths, and tried for the umpteenth time to make some sense out of several paragraphs.

The last 2 pages nearly did me in though. I'm not in the habit of writing notes to anyone but myself in my workbook, however, I was pretty sure my brain matter was just going to completely liquefy and run straight out my ear if I did not verbalize my discomfort onto paper. So along the edge of the left margin, right next to the summation on amillenialism, I wrote this little note.

"Head. About. To. Explode.
Help me Jesus!"

Feeling a little better after having expressed myself I continued muddling through the remaining summations as well as a couple of nifty example time lines (thank the Good Lord she did not ask us to chart out those time lines!) And just when I thought I couldn't put one more foreign word into my brain, I read this line in a sentence in the last paragraph.



Bless you Beth for seeing fit to stop and let me breathe. And not a moment to soon. That poor man who had just mopped up next to my table was about to have a whole 'nother mess had it gone on much longer. So I figured since I had asked Jesus to help me, and he clearly had seen fit to do just that, I better jot him one more little note.


One final note, while my brain was exhausted, my spirit was quite happy. I had stretched myself and it felt gooood. If you have the opportunity to learn a little more about the deeper things of the Bible, take it. You won't regret it. Just make sure you've got yourself a good cup of coffee in your left hand before you get started.

*As to the gift cards mentioned above, the coordinator for our bible study has a little bowl of goodies that we can pick from if we do our homework each week. It is total and complete coolness. So far I have snagged for myself a highlighter, some great lip balm, and pink flowered post-it notes. However, last week, my little heart soared when I saw she had stashed St@rbucks gift cards in the bowl!!! I could have kissed her. However, in the spirit of avoiding any awkwardness, I'll just say Stephanie totally Rocks!

Because I Feel As If Photographic Evidence Is Necessary.

We came, We saw, We took a nap.
Our family chewed up the month of July, and spit it out. And I got photos to prove it.

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The photos are from Summer Breakout (an edgy version of VBS), family vacation, and one shot from Soccer camp, because it has consumed my life this week.)

Sadly, there were a few things I didn't get a picture of. For one, Sporty doing a belly-flop dive off the diving board, as well as the security guard who would not stop following us through the museum. We had planned on sticking a Renoir in Baby's diaper bag, but alas our plans were foiled!

I did get a 'lovely' shot of the family posed in the beautiful dining room of a nineteenth century mansion. However, I looked horrid in it, so it will never see the bloggy light of day. Now if the kids had all been cross-eyed, and Ben was facing the wrong way, but I was lookin' good, well then, you would have definitely been able to enjoy that shot! ;-)

(And can I just say how much I love this Slideroll slideshow. They should call it Slideshow's for dummies and frumpy stay-at-home moms with no ultra cool software. Eh, maybe Slideroll is a better name after all.)

Their Story

This video is just beautiful. It was made by some friends of ours who have four children, though I've only met their beautiful twins Clara and Libby. Unfortunately, I'll have to wait until I reach heaven before I can meet Grace and Gideon.

It's been entered in the International Infertility Film Festival. If you'd like to vote for their video, go here. Otherwise, just sit back and be blessed by it!

Just Like Riding A Bike

You must do the things you think you cannot do.
-Eleanor Roosevelt

When I was 18, and fresh out of high school, I went on a once in a lifetime trip to Europe with one of my best friends. While on a whirlwind, 24 hour, stop in Paris, we were able to make it to the Eiffel Tower. This petrified of heights girl, managed to ride the glass elevator to the top without squealing for her momma. Once at the top though, I was completely satisfied to stay inside the observation booth. Secure in glass and steel. Bek however, walked freely around the top and out to the edge to enjoy the amazing view. The fact that nothing but a simple
chain link fence separated her and certain death did not seem to phase her in the slightest.

I'll admit a bit jealousy. To be free of fear, and not feel like gravity itself is conspiring to pull you over the edge, would be amazing.

Once she enjoyed her little tour, she came into the booth and goaded taunted dared encouraged me to walk out around the outer deck. I'm not sure how she did it. We were a little old for double dog dares, but somehow she threw down the gauntlet, and I was not going to let her win. I slipped out the door, plastered myself against the wall (several feet from the edge) and inched my way around to the other side.

I didn't carry home any Eiffel Tower snowglobes or miniatures from that trip, there was no need. The memory itself is the treasure. For many people up there that day, they simply enjoyed the view. I, however, enjoyed a sense of accomplishment that has carried with me years later.

Yesterday I was faced with a similar choice. But this time, I'm a long way from 18, and it wasn't my best friend teasing me. Instead, it was looking into the serious eyes of my seven year old when she realized mommy was scared.

We're on vacation this week (thus the lack of postage going on here). Yesterday we spent most of the day at a children's science center. As soon as we walked through the door, and she saw the incredible sky bike hanging 2 stories up, she was hooked. "I wanna do THAT!" We made our way up there, and for some crazy reason, I thought I'd do it with her. I mean really, it's a science center. They have things like physics and Newton to support why it all works.

So first she hopped on, and rode like a pro.




You can imagine where this little story is leading. Approximately 15 seconds after I hopped on, and was strapped in, I hopped right back off mumbling "I can't, I just can't". Nuh, uh. Nope. No Way was I going out there on that thing. The friendly operator tried to help me, but he was no Bek. "Just go out a little bit ... there's a net under you. It's perfectly safe."

No dice.

We moved on, visited the planetarium, ate lunch, and explored some more. All the while, it's gnawing at me.

Chicken.

I decided I'd go for it again, but once I finally mustered up the courage, the exhibit had temporarily closed. I determined that if it opened again before we left, I'd do it. I wanted my daughter to see me face my fears and I wanted to walk away with no regrets. 3:30 That was the next opening. We walked around finishing up and it was almost time. I looked up and a small line had started to form. This was it, I'm going for it. I marched off to the elevator. I can do this! Behind me I heard "Mom! Hold on! I'm going with you." Hand in hand, we got in line.

She went first, "so I can show you how to do it, mom." Such a sacrificial girl she is. wink. I'm sure there wasn't any self-serving motivation in that. ahem. And then I was up. "I'm gonna do it this time." I told the operator who had helped me before. "I know you don't believe me, but I will." He didn't say a word. He didn't crack a smile. He just buckled me in, and stood back. Slowly I backed out of the stall, stopping each time I felt it tip in the slightest. Palms sweaty. Stomach knotted. Somewhere below I heard Ben and my mother-in-law cheering me on, but there was NO WAY I was going to look down at them. About a fourth of the way across, I felt I had accomplished enough of my goal, and headed back. I pulled back in, took the first real breath I'd taken in the last couple of minutes, and said "I did it!" The operator smiled big and said, "That was a lot farther than last time." Practically skipping down the stairs to my beaming seven year old, I threw my arms around her. By the smiles from some in the crowd around us, it was clear they understood that this had been a bit difficult for me. I stopped short of kissing the ground. I figured I had humiliated myself enough for one day.

And with that, we headed home. Once again, I left with no regrets and a sense of self-satisfaction. But this time I also left with a life lesson for my daughter as well as some video evidence. Enjoy. :D

Four your birthday

It seems as if I've known you my whole life. That you've always been here. Smiling with your head cocked to one side, telling me a silly story that always ends with your big beautiful eyes popping into saucers just to emphasize your point. That there's always been a little blonde pixie in our home to sing and dance for us. I guess it feels like that, because, like your sisters, you were always in God's plan for our family, and so you fit as if you've always been around.

But you've only been a part of our lives for four years.

Looking back, I think that God sent you to help us smile. You came right smack dab in the middle of a difficult period of our lives. But the happy little baby, and the giggly little girl that you became, was a physical reminder of God's deep abiding love for us, and made clear that ALL things truly do indeed work together for good. Very, very good.

You are a performer to the core! Recently, your Sunday school teachers put up a list in your class of all the things that you and your friends wanted to be when you grow up. You were the only Rock Star in a group of mostly Princesses and Spidermen. And you informed us that when you are a Rock Star you will be singing on the stage with your daddy. It would please me to no end to see you up there with your hero. (we just need to help you understand the slight difference between a Rock Star and what your daddy does ... but we'll get there some day.)

This summer our church held a special VBS just for kids your age. It was called SBO jr. and you loved it. It was also the first time you would get to perform on the stage on Sunday with the other kids. True to your nature, you woke up every morning that week, and said "Mom, Is TODAY the day I get to sing on the stage?!?" I haven't the foggiest notion of where you get such performance tendencies. ;-)

You are a diva through and through. You have 4x as many purses and sunglasses as your mother, and you prefer your wedge sandals over any other shoes. Not to mention, you go around singing a little tune that I think you made up that says "I like Fa-shion!"

You are smart, loving and sweet. You are kind to your little sister (most of the time), and you're pretty sure that your older sister is the coolest kid in the world. But I've got a secret for you, I think she's got a bit of competition in that department from you.




Happy Birthday baby! Thanks for all the smiles, hugs and laughter. You help make our family complete!

I'm Easily Amused

As part of the whirlwind-memory-making tour with grandma this past week, we visited an amusement park.

I think I can honestly say that the five other families that were at the park that day had just as much fun as our family did. Alright, so there may have been more than five families there, but it was pretty sparse. Don't believe me, take a look at these pictures.




The kids had their pick on every ride, and they could just sit there and ask to go again if their little hearts desired. We went all over the park, and had it that way most of the time. Every once in awhile we were forced to share but we are a hospitable family, and we made the sacrifice.

As you can see from the photos, it wasn't the most beautiful day, but for the most part it wasn't to bad. The weather that day had called for a little rain, and possibly severe thunderstorms. But every time I looked at satellite forecast over the area where the park is, it was always clear over that one area. Since it was Daddy's day off, we decided to take the risk, and I think it paid off. We had a lot of fun.

I guess I should say that most of us had fun. Baby Spice wasn't real sure this was such a fun place. First, she kept thinking she'd want to get on with her sisters, and then she'd change her mind. She finally decided she wanted to ride the boats with her sisters, and didn't change her mind until the boats started moving. Here's what she looked like as she rounded the corner the first time.


She finally did get the hang of that one, and quit screaming on about the third time around. She also was happily settled on daddy's shoulders when ....

We rounded the corner and saw those giant kiddie characters that all amusement parks must have. Apparently a dog with paws the size of her head frightened the poor girl a bit!

She was so scared that daddy could barely pry her off his head.


Fortunately, we are much more clever than dogs with giant paws, and we were able to outmaneuver them for the rest of the day.

One for the money, TWO for the show.

You've turned two and what a show you are!


You are a born performer. You sing and dance ALL THE TIME. In your estimation, any elevated surface was put there solely for your performance enjoyment. Before I moved you up to the two year old class at church last week, you apparently had your own little fan club in the nursery with your buddy Brayden. Your teachers told us that you both would sit at the snack table and you would belt out "The B-I-B-L-E", and when you were done he would just clap and clap. (If he's anything like his dad, he'll be able to accompany you soon, and if he's anything like his mom, he'll be able to do your taxes. So really it's a win/win with that friendship.)

You are also highly, HIGHLY attuned to fashion. Much more so than your sisters. I'm not sure if it's just a product of you being the third girl, or if it's genetic (probably a little of both), but at two you care A LOT about what you wear. You get excited when I tell you it's time to get dressed. And frustrated when I continuously fail at choosing the right thing. Our favorite trick of yours to show people, is to say "Baby, show (so and so) your shirt". You throw your shoulders back and proudly stick out your tummy to show off your outfit.

However, this strong sense of style can create quite a problem when you're two and very active. Once while staying at your Aunt Bekah's, you got yourself wet. (I think you were playing in the toilet. A nasty habit, that thankfully you seem to have outgrown.) Since I hadn't sent a change of clothes, Aunt B had to make do with some of Happy Boy's old outgrown clothes. You knew instantly that these were NOT girl clothes, and you let her know in no uncertain terms that you were not pleased with these turn of events.

While you are a slave of fashion, you feel that shoes are optional. And you usually opt Not. I don't ever pick you up from class with your shoes on. And I often have to trek out into the backyard to figure out where you disposed of them last. I like to say that you were born country. Never mind though, I love it. You're little feet still have that toddler look to them, and I could just eat them up. I think part of the reason that you don't like shoes is that they hide your beautifully painted toes. You will frequently bring me nail polish and then stick out your feet. However, the other day, your independence kicked in and you decided that I was an unnecessary step in that process. I found you in the kitchen painting your toenails (and your toes, and your feet, and the hard wood floors) a lovely shade of red. I too went a shade of red that could not possibly be described as lovely.

Like your sisters, you are not one of those toddlers with a ton of hair. Unlike your sisters, you are partially to blame for this. The back of your head reveals your hair growth potential.


On the right side is a cute little tuft of hair that has a little bit of curl to it. The left side is much more modest in appearance. You have a habit of sucking your thumb with your right hand while your left hand rips out plays with hair. Admittedly, this was a trait passed on from your momma. So I'm hopeful, that just as I eventually stopped, you will too. While you won't be helping out locks of love anytime soon, if there was a charity called lashes of love, you'd be their spokesperson. Your lashes go for miles and miles. Maybe I should pull a few out and glue them to the back left side of your head.




Baby, your daddy and I love you with every fiber of our being. Every day we are reminded of how blessed we are that God chose you for our family. Happy birthday my love!