Theme Park Fun

So if you're wondering when a good time is to go to a theme park, try a couple days before Thanksgiving! As you'll see from our pictures, it looks as if we rented the whole park out for ourselves. It was like a ghost town! How funny! We had a fun time, and Olivia loved the rides. I was impressed with how brave she was as a three year old. I don't think I would've been quite so courageous at her age. I have a few videos that I hope to load soon that will show Olivia riding some fun rides.

OB Memories

OK, I know you're wondering where I'm going with this one, but just hang on. I was looking at a department store sales flyer recently when I saw a pair of boots similar to an old pair I once had. I loved those boots. I actually got them in Scotland when I went on that fun trip to Great Britain with my grandparents my senior year in highschool. They were kind of ankle high, black boots, and they fit splendidly. I was sad when I had to put them out to pasture. But anyway, I saw some in this flyer that looked like them, and for some reason I immediately thought about a funny trip to the OBGYN I had years ago. I was home for Christmas break during my freshman year, and my folks had just moved to a new town the summer before my freshman year of college, so when Mom scheduled my annual OB visit, she just made an appointment for me at the office where she had begun going since the move. I honestly can't remember his name; I think I've repressed it, but we'll call him Dr. Smith. After being admitted to the examination room, a nurse walked me over to the table, handed me a gown, and said in her southern drawl, "Dr. Smith prefers that you keep your shoes on, so just remove everything but your shoes." At the time I wasn't the frequent flyer that I am today at an OB, and I remember thinking that was odd, but I was a dutiful patient, and didn't object. Had that been today, I would've probably laughed and said, "Unless we're going for a walk in this open-backed gown, I'm not sure why the shoes are necessary." Again, I was just a bit naive, so I followed directions after the nurse left the room, and began undressing. As I started to take my pants off, I pushed the heel of one shoe with the other foot's toe, trying to get it off, and suddenly I froze. As if I wouldn't look like a big enough idiot in a gown and a pair of sandals, flats, tennis shoes....etc...I was wearing, yep, you guessed it, my big black boots. Several minutes later I was sitting on the table with the open-backed gown with my bare legs dangling heavily as I stared down with disbelief at those big, black boots. Dr. Smith eventually entered, a tall, very slender, old man with balding white hair and large glasses. He was completely unphased by my awkward examination attire, and when he had me lay back and I had to clunk those crazy boots up into the stirrups, he proceeded to tell me about a recent fishing excursion he had enjoyed. I think to him, the examination felt like it took 2 minutes, but to me it felt like 2 hours. Could I have felt any more ridiculous and awkward? At the end of the exam, he asked me if I had any questions. I imagine you know what I was wanting to ask, and I indulged my desire and quickly said, "Why did you have me keep my boots on?" He looked a little confused, and said with an old southern accent, "Oh, did she tell you to keep those on? I was wondering about that. I just tell the nurses to tell folks to keep their shoes on if their feet get cold." And he failed to attempt to stifle a little laugh, patted me on the shoulder, and said, "See you next time." With a red face, I exited Dr. Smith's office thinking to myself, "Two can play at this game! Next time I'll wear my knee-high, stelleto, red leather boots!" OK, so I didn't really own any of those, but too bad, 'cause it would've probably made him feel a little squeemish, huh? :)
So now it's your turn. What is the funniest, most awkward, bizarre experience you've had at an OB's office?

A Mistake I Might Have to Make Twice!

Ladies, it's 8:08 AM, and both of my children are still asleep. Can I tell you how unusual this is??? I should be doing loads of laundry and cleaning my bathroom or something! But here I sit, because how often to I get this much uninterrupted time to write! So here's what happened. Last night we got home late after choir practice, and I put Benjamin and Olivia down as soon as we got in. Stan and I watched a little TV, and then we talked until about 10:50 (I had had a frustrating experience at church last night and we were talking through it) when Benjamin woke up again. I went in and nursed him and put him back down. Stan and I finished talking and prayed over the frustrating situation and finally crashed a little before 11:30. Folks, I remember doing this with Olivia when she was a little bambino, but last night, I failed to turn on the baby monitor for Benjamin's room. (I usually leave it on all the time...I won't go into explaining why it was off.) And without the baby monitor on, I slept like a baby! I woke up startled at 5am realizing what had happened. Because he's been so sick this month and has been teething, I can't remember the last time he slept that long. But then I couldn't go back to sleep, because I was thinking about him crying in the night, and I was wondering if he was OK, so eventually I just got up and had my Devos. Shortly he woke up, I nursed him briefly and he went right back to sleep. Hallelujah!! Thank you Jesus for this mistake that turned into a blessing! :) If only all of my mistakes turned out this nicely!

Make New Friends, But Keep the Old...

Yesterday morning I had a date with the past! Recently I ran into a few highschool girlfriends who have moved back to this area, and I determined that it was time to get together. They all agreed, and we finally made good to the promise to make it happen yesterday morning. We met up at a local park, and after two hours of just chatting, laughing, sharing, and chasing children, I left with the biggest smile on my face. You know when you just get so darn slap-happy that you find yourself near giggles? That's how I felt when I drove off with my kids in the back seat, thawing out, after two hours of playing in blustery, cool weather. I immediately began praising the Lord for that dear time of fellowship. What a blessing. I e-mailed them all last night and told them how much it meant to me and explained that while I do have friends here--people who care for me and for whom I care as well--I don't have many truly close girlfriends, and it was refreshing to me to rekindle those relationships from long ago. And as I told them, it wasn't as if we all just "picked up where we left off", because there's been a lot of water under the bridge since then; we've all grown, married, changed, started families, had our share of life's challenges. But there was an immediate comfortability with one another---kind of like going and picking up one of your favorite books off of the shelf and re-reading it--suddenly remembering,"Oh yeah, I love this part!" And then being pleasantly surprised by things you missed the first time around. Anyway, as we were walking to our cars, one of the gals said, "So where are we meeting next month?" Yipppeee! They did enjoy the time, just like I did! :) Another said through a rolled-down window before driving off, "Thanks for helping work this out." And suddenly I thought to myself. That's it. That's just it. All relationships have an element of work about them, don't they? And I certainly don't want to act as if I had to labor intensely to bring about that gathering, but we all had to be intentional. We had to intend on making that happen. I've been guilty in the past of saying kind of flippantly, "It's so great to see you! We ought to get together sometime!" and then never following through. So this morning, allow me to sing my little GirlScout song to you from the title of this post "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold." If you have new friends, count them as precious as silver, and if you have old friends, it's worth the effort to reconnect and work at those golden friendships.

More Thanksgiving pics

So here are a few more of those pictures that I couldn't get to load last night for some reason.

Thanksgiving

OK--I'll try later, but blogger is being frustrating, and I can only load these two pictures. I'll load more tomorrow, hopefully.
We had such a good Thanksgiving with my family. These are a few pictures from Thanksgiving Day. You'll notice that Benjamin is using a nebulizer. That is because he came down with bronchitis that week. Bless his heart! Will he ever get well? Thanksgiving Day was a little bit smaller of a gathering than normal this year. Abby & Andy and little Andrew were out in Texas, and Carrie Beth and her boys didn't arrive until late that evening, because Brad wasn't able to come since he had to be ready to open Circuit City in Jax at 4am the next morning. We still enjoyed one another's fellowship, and as you can see, we had plenty of food! I don't think I ever got a picture of Dad (Cocky). Sorry, Dad. He was probably busy doing something to help the day go splendidly when I had the camera out. Mom has sweetly allowed me to do the table center pieces for the last couple of years, and she helped me go out and gather greens from the yard. I loved how this arrangement has a wildness about it. Karen--it makes me think of Tana and Phil and how they would always talk about things "spillin' and drippin'"! When I was putting the arrangement together, I was thinking about how much I love Magnolia trees--those giant green leaves are from the Magnolias in Mom and Dad's yard. Yes, I know, Dad--they do make a mess, but they are so quintessentially southern. I love how strong, firm, and bold the leaves are.

It's a Calling

As I've been talking with several girlfriends lately and reading some of their blogs, I've been struck by several recurring themes:
--Guilt felt for a myriad of reasons--not wanting to play with your kids all the time, getting engrossed in a murder mystery book and "neglecting" your children for a couple hours, wanting to go to your part-time job for some time away, spending too much time on the computer, etc...
--Concern about being a "good" mom or a good enough mom
--Trying to balance time with the kids and family with the need for time away & the almost unavoidable guilt that follows time spent away
When I was washing the dishes after dinner tonight, this all was weighing on my mind, and suddenly this thought was impressed on my heart. It's a calling, Adrienne. "It's the hardest job in the world," Mom always says. My mom has always told me that being a stay-at-home mom (even a part-time one) is a calling--meaning it ought to be something you really feel like the Lord has led you to do. And although I've heard her say that many times, I got to thinking about it from a fresh perspective tonight somehow. How does it help if we know we're called to do something? Immensely! If we know we're called, then we know He will enable us to handle every aspect of this calling. The callee can lean into the Caller when she needs strength, help, guidance, a break! If we recognize that we're called, there can be a peace found in that--knowing that even in the insane moments, we're in His hands. And as I continued thinking about this, I thought to myself, what else is commonly true of people who are called to a task or a vocation? It is essential that people who are called find time to recommit themselves to their calling--annually, monthly, weekly, daily--however often is needed. My Dad is a UM pastor, and every year at annual conference he stays 'till the very end, because he knows that at the end, the Bishop leads the pastors in portions of the John Wesley Covenant service. I've found a modern paraphrase of it, and this is the portion that Dad always feels it is so important to participate in. Anyway, I know that I am finding encouragement in again recognizing and accepting my calling. Maybe you also need a moment, like me, to recommit and surrender to it.
All: we are yours, Lord. We reverence you. We dedicate ourselves to your service.

Pastor: in so giving ourselves to the Lord, we affirm that we will heartily embrace what he has appointed us to do, both corporately and personally.

Let him appoint you to your work. Christ has many services to be done; some are more easy and honorable, others more difficult and menial.

Some are suitable to our inclinations and interest; others are contrary to both. In some we may please Christ and please ourselves, as when he requires us to feed and clothe ourselves.

Indeed, there are some spiritual duties that are more pleasing than others; as to rejoice in the Lord, to be a blessing and praising God.

These are the sweet works of a Christian. But then there are other works, wherein to please Christ is to deny ourselves.

Find what it is that Christ expects of you and then give yourselves totally to his will, without bargaining and without reservation.

All: make us what you will, Lord, and send us where we are to go. Let us be vessels of silver or gold, or vessels of wood or stone; as long as we are vessels of honor we are content.

If we are not the head, or the eye, or the ear, one of the nobler and more honorable instruments, then let us be the hands, or the feet, as one of the lowest and least esteemed of all the servants of our Lord.

Pastor: Lord, place us in your kingdom in the roles you have designed for us.

People: Lord, make all of us your servants.

Pastor: in exalted places, or humble places.

People: let us be full; let us be empty.

Pastor: let us have all things; let us have nothing.

People: we freely and gladly embrace our places in your kingdom.

Happy Rabbit Princess

I'm a little behind on this, but this is Olivia after her Thanksgiving Day feast at preschool. The morning was a little bit hectic, and I forgot my camera at home, so I just took these as soon as we got home. Each kid got to give themselves an Indian name, and Olivia called herself Happy Rabbit Princess. I thought that was a fun name. As all preschool parties are at her school, it was a bit chaotic and loud, but we all survived the morning---even Benjamin who had a blow-out in the middle of the whole event, and I hadn't brought a change of clothes for him, so he looked like a little white trash baby the second half of the party. Olivia was completely unphased by the craziness. Isn't it great how flexible kids can be?

Mr. Arthur

I've been reading some of my friend's poetry lately, and it got my mind in a poetic mood. I do not have a natural poetic bent, but I enjoy the challenge. See my specialty is "short story, long" not "long story, short", so saying something of meaning with fewer words is an interesting and intriguing task. Here I go.

"Mr. Arthur"

He sat alone
shoulders hunched
on the long wooden pew
his usual spot on Sunday mornings
their usual spot

Only now,
alone

Before
she must've helped him
getting dressed
combing his hair
holding the hymnal
reading the bulletin
adjusting his hearing aid

Only now,
matching a tie with a shirt
perplexed him
combing his hair
was something he thought he handled well
but she had always been the one to check that cowlick
holding the hymnal with trembling hands
embarssed him
reading the bulletin, the thick glasses sliding down his small nose,
seemed impossible

And that hearing aid
she always managed to make it work
How did she fix it?
Anxiety and frustration didn't calm his shaking fingers
as they fiddled with the buzzing little beast
The pastor's words droned on
as it tumbled to the carpet from his quaking hands

Uncomfortably he stretttttttttched to reach it
catching a glance of an annoyed woman as he descended
her finger discreetly plugging one ear
the buzzing obviously an annoyance
her lips pursed and one eyebrow cocked
he felt his heart beating in his wrinkled throat
reeeeeeeeeeaching with all his might
finally!
it was in his clammy grasp

He whispered a loud apology
through whistling dentures
all the while
he felt the high buzzing
continued to announce his age
his incompetance
his alone-ness

Catching his breath and composure
he stood, stooping
trying not to draw more eyes
shuffling his way to the narthex

Before
she would've fixed it
so easily
so quickly

They would've enjoyed another service
together

But now things were so often
interrupted
off kilter
incomplete

Because now he was
alone

My Mom is Amazing

Maybe you remember learning about "half-birthday-celebrations" when you were a kid. You know what I'm talking about? Six-and-a-half birthday celebrations...etc. I remember discovering that this was a time-honored tradition in the family of a certain elementary school friend of mine and thinking, "Are you serious?? I'm totally missing out!" All of a sudden the Wrigley's commercial jingle was flowing with inspired passion from my lips---"Double the pleasure, double the fun....with double the birthday fun!" I really thought this kid had pulled one over on her folks until I found out that this was a gift-less, half-birthday celebration. I still remember feeling a little envious, though, because at the age of 6,7,8...(OK, almost any age) you never mind a little extra celebration of your life.
We just returned from a five day visit to Mom and Dad's home for Thanksgiving week. The concept of the half-birthday came to mind as I sat down to write, because I was thinking that I wish we had a "Half-Mother's Day-Celebration" right about now. I'm guessing that many of you also have the same feeling, having shared a special time with your family during this recent holiday and having seen your mother lovingly labor for your family. It's almost funny how perfectly timed it is--November is right at 6 months away from May, and certainly if Moms deserve a little extra appreciation and admiration, right after Thanksgiving is a worthy time. So I invite you to pause and pick up the phone or drop a card in the mail or an e-mail to your Mom to let her know just how grateful you are to her for all the times she went the extra mile to make times of celebration such as Thanksgiving so very, very special. I hope she wouldn't mind me saying so, but I imagine that my friend, Tracy, would urge us all to not ever miss an opportunity to hug our mom.
So Mom, I've written a lyrical poem for you in honor of your "Half-Mother's Day-Celebration". (Please sing this to the tune of the Jackson 5's song entitled ABC) And if the song gets a little ridiculous, just go with me, people. I don't work for Motown records, OK?

Adrienne:
A-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh
A-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh

Verse1
Adrienne:
You could never go to school, Mom
To learn all the things you do
Makin' perfect chai tea, caffeine free
Keep your house warm and welcome, not a zoo
Now, now, now, you're always teachin' me (teachin' me, teachin' me)
All about love (all about love)
Saying, "Sit yourself down, take a seat,
Be a servant to your family, you'll find it a treat."

Chorus
Adrienne 1st time through/ Brenda & Adrienne 2 time through
ABC
You make it easy as 123
As simple as
Do-re-mi
ABC
123
Mom, you blow my mind, girl!

Verse2
Brenda:
Loving, forgiving & laughing
are the strengths of a strong family
but without the roots of our savior Jesus
our family just aint complete
T-T-T-Teachers can't show you
Adrienne:
Show-you, show-you
Brenda:
How to be a mom
Adrienne:
How to be a mom
Brenda:
Spell "me" & "Jesus"
Listen to me baby, that's all you gotta do

Chorus (repeated from above, together)

Bridge
Adrienne:
Sit down, Momma!
I wanna tell you I love you!
No, get up Momma!
Show me what you can do!
Shake it, shake it, Momma, come on now!
Shake it, shake it, Momma, oooo, oooo!
Shake it, shake it, Momma, huh!
ABC it Momma! nah-nah
Do-re-me-it Momma! ooo-ooo!
You make it look so easy, Momma!
That's how easy love can be!
Lovin' you is so easy!

Mom, I know you love serving our family. Thank you for that wonderful example set before all of us. I pray that I can be that same loving servant to my family. Thanks for loving me for who I am--even as the silly daughter who sends a word of love and admiration set to the tune of a Jackson 5 greatest hit. You may not hold the official title of theater director or drama teacher any more, but you pull off such amazing productions when we get together. I always love being one of your cast! Watching you encourages me to become my own "director" in my family. Thanks for a great Thanksgiving. I love you!

You Look Like a Mom

Lately I've been feeling a little down from time to time about my generally slouchy appearance. It just feels like such an accomplishment to get gussied up now-a-days, and then when I do, I feel like I'm running defense every second that I'm dressed up--trying to keep my earrings from getting ripped out of my earlobes, keeping my necklace from getting yanked off of my neck or gnawed to smitherines, and defending my clothes from the inevitable spit-up, boogies or blow-outs (had two of these last lovely things before lunch today!). Some folks might say, "Hey, just enjoy the break from the daily hassle of getting dolled up." I'll admit that sometimes I'm grateful if I look at my calendar and realize that I don't have to leave the house for the day, but I am one of those gals who actually enjoys dollin' up. But I also have enough of my mother's practicality running through my veins to know that there are seasons of my life where I'll get to do more of that, and that right now my daily uniform might not get to be quite so fun and interesting.
I feel like that so much of growing in Christ has to do with fighting my selfish nature. Can you relate? Today I was having to fight that little selfish voice in my head that was saying things like, "Are you really going to wear those sandals from Wal-Mart again? You know they don't match...etc." (I won't make you listen to the entire stupid conversation that ran in my head.)I was feeling a little less than pretty until a stranger I encountered today said, "You look like a Mom. I can tell by your shirt." I smiled as I looked down and saw the slobber and boogies that my sweet little baby boy had smeared on my shirt when he was snuggling on my shoulder. Suddenly I felt beautiful and proud. Proud to be wearing my Mommy uniform. I don't think I'll stop trying to get dolled-up from time to time, but I hope that I can remember that on those days when I don't, that there is still a beauty about me--spit-up and all!

An Amusing Observation

I just was chuckling when I realized that the entry that has received the most posts from family and friends has been the one entitled "Cleavage Cook". What does this say about my friends and family? :) Are you scanning my post titles for the sauciest entries? :) Maybe if I just randomly begin to title my entries with scandalous sounding titles, I'll receive more comments??? Or maybe I just struck a nerve with that post, who knows! :)

Cooling Down a Bit

Thank you, Lord for the cooling weather! Of course, down here you never know how long it will last. I can remember a Christmas here as a kid when it was 80 degrees on Christmas Day. I hope it won't be that warm this year. It's honestly hard to fa-la-la when it's so ha-ha-hot! So I'm enjoying being able to put on a sweatshirt and even have my children wear a hat! Today is the Thanksgiving Feast at preschool, so I'll hope to have some photos from the event to share soon.

Bugs/critters--my kryptonite (sp?)

It is an absolutely gorgeous day, today, and Olivia, Benjamin and I were enjoying a jaunt on the swingset in our palatial backyard earlier today. Olivia likes to sit atop the slide and wait for me to say the following in a British accent, "Ladies and gentlement, please feast your eyes on the blonde daredevil, Miss Olivia, as she slides while..." and I'll usually say something like "while making a scary face" or "with her eyes closed" or "on her tummy", etc. You get the idea. She performs in her little one ring circus while Benjamin and I applaud rapturously as she descends the slide with pizzazz. As she was about to climb up the slide ladder for about the 10th time (and by the way, even the most creative person can run out of ..as she slides with her tongue out... etc. after a few rounds of sliding) she jumped off of the slide ladder and gasped with her hands cupped over her little mouth, and then she screamed, "It's a giant grasshopper!!" What is it about this sort of thing that transforms me from SuperMom into ScaredyMom??? Seriously gals, bugs are my kryptonite (sorry if I misspelled that Mr. Reeve). I get weak in the knees and feel all squeemish. I absolutely detest them! The weirder the bug, the worse it is. Olivia, however, is curious and probably would be more bold were there not a mother screaming in the background as if she were about to try to pet a Cobra. My sister, CB, tells me not to worry about this, that it will kind of take care of itself, but I hope I can let Benjamin be a boy about these sorts of things. So this incident only ranks as a 4/10 on the gross-out scale--primarily because it was outside and not within the walls of my home. I give this bug an 8/10 on creepiness, though. I don't know what you call this thing--is it a stick bug? Is it a preying mantis? Anybody got the 411 on this guy? I've included a picture as proof that I was bold enough to get close enough to get a picture, and yes, my camera does have zoom, but I still had to get fairly close to get this shot. He did not want to vacate the premises, and I wasn't about to feel the need to assist him in moving, so we decided we would go inside--where most bugs and critters can't be found. I say "most" because as of late, we've had a disturbing number of visits from several critters. I should explain, however, that a "disturbing number" is one or more--do you hear me, ladies? But seriously, I had a visit from a frog that likely shaved some years off of my life. Olivia, Benjamin and I were home alone when Olivia spotted a frog hopping under our dining room table towards the kitchen. I quickly tried to gather my wits and do that self-talk thing--you know what I'm talking about, girls? Stuff like, "OK, Adrienne, you can do this. You've birthed two children, one naturally without an ounce of pain meds, the other by c-section. You can catch this dumb frog!" Olivia is cheering me on, all the while. I tell her to run get a shoe box from her room. She returns to find me screaming desperately, "No! No! No!" just as the frog hopped under the refrigerator. This is bad. This is very bad. After a few minutes of despair, I decide to try to roll the refrigerator forward to try to let the frog get out so that I can attempt to catch him. As I begin pulling the frig, I hear something crunch beneath the wheels of the appliance. "Oh, dear Lord," I begin to pray aloud, "please tell me I didn't just roll over the frog. Please!" Olivia immediately begins whaling and mourning the death of the "poor little froggie!" Benjamin soon follows his sister's example, so I am swirling in a sea of pandamonium with two screaming children, and at one point I scream out something like, "I'm the one who should be screaming! I'm the one who's going to have to clean up the frog guts!" I finally regain my courage and as I begin to get down on my knees to assess the damage, the crazy amphibian leaps out from beneath the refrigerator! Olivia screams, "He's alive, Momma! He's alive! He came back to life!!" All I can think about is how to get that rascal trapped in this shoe box I'm wielding in the air as I dance around from foot to foot. After a fair amount of chasing, I cornered that critter and trapped him inside the box. Folks, squeals of the purest thanksgiving and praise emitted from my mouth at amazing speed and volume! "Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!" Olivia requested the job of releasing him back into the yard, so I handed the box over to her joyfully. Bless her heart, Olivia didn't know that she was going to be getting a hard lesson on that whole Lion King "Circle of Life" thing, and just as she let that frog out, the neighbor's cat came bounding into our yard. Just as my heart rate had finally slowed a bit, I ran to get her to try to spare her the National Geographic moment. Let's just say that we all had to have a little chill time after that whole incident. Since that incident, I've had to capture two tree frogs and one lizard to release outside. What is this, Wild Kingdom? I have to sing a little children's song based on the scripture that we're all so familiar with "He gives me strength, he gives me strength. I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength..." Dear Lord, I'm sorry I'm such a wimp about this, but thank you for strengthening me for even critter-capture-n-releasing.

Have breakfast on my kitchen floor

I just finished one of my less desirable tasks--cleaning the kitchen floor. If it were just slightly less of a complicated task, I might not resist it so strongly. Maybe some of you can relate. My kitchen and dining room and breakfast knook are no longer simply kitchen cabinets and tables and chairs. Now along with all of the expected elements of these rooms also are the play kitchen and picnic table and two small storage containers full of playfood and play kitchenware and the three drawer rolling drawers for storage of things like playdoh, crayons, markers, paints, etc. Not to mention the highchair and booster seat and a stepstool! So sometimes just getting to the starting line of the race feels like an accomplishment. You know what I mean? Just getting things cleared away enough to be able to sweep and mop feels like half the task. But tonight I felt compelled to do it and to do it well, because my poor little 7 month old has salmonella! (If you have a moment, we'd appreciate you pausing and praying for his recovery.) We've had a rough week, to say the least with very little sleep for Momma and Benjamin, and on Thursday I took him to the doctor. She was guessing it might be rotavirus, and she recommended that I send a stool sample to the lab. So after collecting the sample (fun, fun) I took it to the hospital on Friday morning thinking I probably wouldn't hear back until Monday or Tuesday at the earliest. My doctor called me today at 3:00 to tell me the lab had called her with the news that he has salmonella and we needed to start an antibiotic immediately. Then began the speculation game--where in the world did a 7 month old get salmonella??? He's breastfed and has only been introduced to two vegetables. I called Gerber and spoke with a defensive woman who did little more than make me feel silly for calling--I think Beechnut will be my new favorite after that encounter. Anyway, we've been working this afternoon and evening to try to really clean things thoroughly. Who knows how he got it? It could've been from a million different sources. Just pray your children won't have to endure this, though. It's not been pretty--high fevers and constant diarrhea which leads to a horrendous diaper rash. I felt like I should really clean--in case he got it here in our home. My mom once said to me that she didn't have lots of memories of being sick as a kid, and she often wondered if it could've, at least in part, been because my grandmother was and is such an amazing housekeeper. Ever since she told me that, I've considered the possible truths within it. Mimi (my mom's mom) keeps her house spotless, and speaking of eating off of the floor (as my title offers), you'd feel comfortable eating off her floor most any day! My dad's mom is the same way--spick and span. My brother-in-law Andy jokes that he thinks they have the ability to hover above the carpet, because when they greet you at the door, there aren't any feet impressions on the carpet until you walk in and create them. So I keep clinging to the fact that I come from a long line of great cleaners, and while I don't know that I could hang with them right now, I hope someday to be able to have chops like theirs. For the next 12-24 hours, my kitchen floor is safe to eat upon. After that, I make no guarantees.

Cleavage Cook

Just when I thought I might not have to see Cleavage Cook ever again, she lands a gig on the Today Show and is the covergirl on the US World News insert in our newspaper today. Don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about, people. Cleavage Cook, aka Giada from the Food Network. I can appreciate her cooking savy, but could we keep the groceries in the bag, Giada? Try watching that show of hers without catching a long, slow zoom in toward some bowl that just happens to be near her chest. Ladies, who of you cooks with such a plunging neckline in your own kitchen? I know that if I did, my husband would definitely be expecting more than squash casserole and baked chicken for dinner. All I'm trying to say is that if I tune in to watch a cooking show, I'd rather not get the peep show shots, and, Giada, a lot of that could be remedied if you just wore a slightly more conservative blouse. Yes, I was raised by a mom who urged me to consider dressing in a way that was respectful of my own body and respectful of all the eyes that might be upon me. No, I don't have hair down to my knees nor a wordrobe full of denim, ankle-length skirts, but I do believe that our society has really gone bizzerk in this area. As my grandfather, Poppy, says, "All that needs is a little Asbury lace." :) That was an actual comment he made to my sister, Carrie Beth, when she modeled her prom dress for him her senior year in highschool! That was a funny moment. So tell me what you think. Have you given way to the pressures of society and are you donning your Wonder Bra in your kitchen every night whilst cooking up something delectable?

Would Shakespeare Have Blogged?

I'm reading a book by Bill Bryson entitled Shakespeare The World As Stage, and I've not gotten through much of it yet, but the little bit I've read so far has had its intriguing moments. I have to admit it is not a book that is hard to put down exactly, but I suppose I'm wondering what in the world he's going to be able to talk about for the next hundred pages or so, being that there is so little known about Shakespeare, and somehow that keeps me coming back to find out. I took a Shakespeare class with a fabulous professor, Dr. Brown, (if you're reading this, Dr. Brown, I suppose I'm about a decade late on collecting brownie points, huh?) and while I've always loved Shakespeare's writings, Dr. Brown really brought things to life and allowed us to jump into the stories in a way I hadn't before. I always like to walk by the "New Books" section at our library when I take Olivia & Benjamin, and rarely is there anything that just jumps out at me, but when I saw this one, I thought I'd give it a go.
One interesting tidbit of info that Bryson has already divulged is about this married couple who was bound and determined to try to discover more about Shakespeare, so they moved to England and spent about 18 hours each day pouring over public records between the years of 1906 and 1909. Charles and Hulda Wallace were their names, and he had been an English professor at the University of Nebraska and he truly became obsessed with trying to discover more information about Shakespeare. I love how Bryson says we might imagine the "muffled cry of joy" when in 1909 they finally found one mention of Shakespeare in a court case. The case was of little significance, but it was significant that it pinpointed his whereabouts at an important time in his life--something that had been theretofore mostly guessed about. The sad news is that this guy, Wallace, basically lost his mind. Probably spent 18 too many hours pouring over those public records, huh? But don't worry too much about that fella, because even in his less-than-sound mental state, he got a new hobby. He believed that he could tell whether a piece of land had oil on it, and he happened to guess right one time. He happened upon one of the most productive oil wells in history. He died a very wealthy man. Don't you wonder what dear Hulda did with all that cizash? We'll hope she took some of it and gave herself a little vacation.

Time to Lighten Up

OK, I was reading back through some of my recent blogs. Time to lighten things up a bit. The last several entries have been rather serious.
All of you housewives out there can relate to the ongoing struggle of "keeping house". Man, back in preschool keeping house was a blast, right? I mean come on? When it was time to clean up the house area, you just opened the little toy frig and oven and shoved everything inside. Oh, were it that easy! So here are a couple of true admissions of my own housekeeping failings just this week. I need to clean my bathroom, and when I'm done with this post, I plan to do it (wink, wink), but this morning while I was trying to dry my hair, Benjamin was crawling freely around my bedroom. Olivia had been my wingman in watching him for me until Clifford came on, and then she left me high and dry, so I had to pick him up and let him crawl around on the bathroom floor. After picking the third hair out of his mouth (ladies, do you have a wooly mammoth that sheds on your bathroom floor like I do?), instead of going to get the vaccuum or broom, I do what any desperate mother would do. I turn my hair dryer on full blast and corral the rolling tumbleweeds of hairballs into one corner. What? You've never done that?
At dinner last night I glanced up at the chandelier over the table and thought for the thousandth time, "Boy, I need to clean those cobwebs off!" After we'd cleared the table of dishes, I pulled the vaccuum cleaner over to the table, hooked up the hose extension and sucked those webs away, and just as I was about to turn the machine off, I glanced down at a crummy table (it hadn't been wiped off yet after dinner), and I just thought, "Hey, why not?" and I used the vaccuum to suck the crumbs off of the table! OK, vaccuuming the table top is slightly unconventional, I'll agree, but it did prove to be efficient. I don't know that I would recommend this after every meal; you be the judge. :)
So if you have any funny housekeeping stories to share, feel free to add them here. If your house looks like a model home and you are ready to call the health department to have mine condemned, please just ignore this entry. :)

Entitlement and Mary Englebreit's Advice

As we've been facing some financial challenges lately (nothing terribly serious, but just fairly normal single income two kids kind of struggles), I've been doing some reflecting on and reevaluating of our situation and also of my growing up years. Maybe some of you can relate to something that I've come to realize about myself. I've always looked upon people who had an obvious attitude of entitlement and judged them pretty harshly in my mind, thinking to myself, "Why do they think that the world should be handed to them on a platter?" Guess what? I'm ashamed to say that I think I'm battling a fight against the entitlement disease, myself. Sometimes I find my gut screaming out, "Why does it have to be so hard? When will we feel an easing up of these challenges?" In some of my thinking and praying lately, I've just been sensing the Lord leading me to hear the rather unattractive whining tone in my voice. My mom gave me a Mary Englebreit refrigerator magnet (I scanned it in for you to see) that has the words "Snap Out of It!" written on it (something only your mother or a really good friend could give to you), and I think I need to heed the magnet's direction. But how did this little feeling of entitlement creep up on me? Well, I've been trying to think about that, too. When I was a kid we didn't have much, although I don't remember feeling like we were deprived. The Lord took care of us, and we were so blessed. Mom would always say, "We're rich in love!" As we grew older, Dad moved to larger churches and Mom went back to work when I was in highschool. There wasn't as much coupon clipping, and it wasn't ever as if we were wealthy, but we grew accustomed to a little bit easier living. So much of what we see in our society leads us to believe that we are entitled to a life of ease and luxury, and young couples getting married and just starting out together often feel as if they should have homes and belongings as nice as their parents. Please don't misunderstand me, we haven't gone out and purchased a large home and filled it with things we can't afford, but I think it's sometimes easy for me to think things ought to be a little easier for us--like they were for my family in my older teenage/college years. (I know my dad would laugh if he read this, because I'm sure he didn't think of those years as easy being that it was the beginning of putting 4 children through private college!) Anyway, I think it's easy for me to forget that they didn't start so easy for them. They worked hard, and most importantly, they were good stewards of what the Lord entrusted them with. I really want to follow their example. But maybe some of you have had this feeling creep over you before (and I'm convinced these thoughts are the subtle workings of the devil)--this feeling like, "I deserve to have/do..., because..." In the Beth Moore study I'm soon to finish, we were just talking today about what life would be like if we really got what we deserved. Ugh. Praise God for Psalm 103:10! "he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities." I have to force myself to stop and say to myself, "You deserve what, Adrienne? What? Do you really want what you truly deserve?" In this same study I mentioned, Beth talks about how we often are unsatisfied by our own blessings and desire other people's blessings. Oh Lord, I want to fully live in the blessings you've given me and to be a good steward of them, too, because I know I have much more than I deserve!

"Kidding" around

Stan went to Valdosta tonight with his friend, Mike, to see a Casting Crowns concert, so this afternoon and evening we were sans papa. We enjoyed a visit to the goats who live at the end of our road. Benjamin wasn't sure what to make of them, but Olivia, as always, loved every minute of it. I wish that I could say the remainder of the evening was as idealic as the goat visit, but later after both kiddos had given in to multiple meltdowns (neither had gotten a good afternoon nap), Momma had a meltdown of her own. It wasn't pretty, folks. I found myself feeling very close to Paul--you know the scripture where he talks about the struggle he has against his flesh--that stuff about doing the very thing he doesn't want to do. Arrrrggghhhh. So when I was finally able to step back for a moment and I began to apologize to Olivia, she interrupted me, and said, "Don't worry, Mommy. God forgives you even when you do mean things." Oh me. Praise God for that truth, but talk about humbling to have it handed to you by your 3 year old. This parenting thing is so challenging sometimes. Lamentations 3:
22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

So I'm banking on his compassions being new tomorrow morning.

Self-Pity vs. Gratitude

I think that one of the ways that the devil works on us stay-at-home-moms the most is through isolation. He'd like us to believe that nobody else struggles with little crazy things throughout their day in the way that we, ourselves, do. As soon as we begin sizing ourselves up next to Mrs. Happy Homemaker and comparing ourselves to her, the devil knows he's had a victory. But what a struggle it is to resist the comparison game! Even though we know it's a one way road to Pity City. You ever been there, ladies? Pity City's that place where we think that every other wife and mother has her life, her house, and family in perfect order, and that we're just a mess dreading discovery. I don't know about you, but I've been there before. I've been there this week! But, I've had to come to view Pity City as a temptation--not just as a trap of the devil of which I'm a victim. If I allow myself to play the victim, then I am much slower to get on a bus and find my way out of Pity City and head towards Gratitude Latitude (OK, just go with me on that one). So if I want to treat it as a temptation, what then? Then I have to believe I Cor 10:13 and look for that way out. I've been reading my J.B. Phillips New Testament more again lately. The way it's written there is, "No temptation has come your way that is too hard for flesh and blood to bear. But God can be trusted not to allow you to suffer any temptation beyond your powers of endurance. He will see to it that every temptation has its way out, so that it will be possible for you to bear it." Usually my "way out" is through gratitude--gratitude for the tremendous blessings He's allowed me to experience. It is amazing, isn't it, how a heart of thanksgiving and praise can transform our spirits and renew our minds?
Another way that we can help eachother avoid Pity City is by being authentic with one another. When we share our struggles and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, many times we've cast a ray of light into another mom's dreary moment. Suddenly the sense of isolation is squelched; all that is seen and felt is a kind hand extended in sympathy. Sometimes other moms have encouraged me without even knowing it simply because they're willing to be real. Now sometimes our children force vulnerable moments upon us by disclosing information without our consent. Don't you love those moments? :) Recently when I was picking Olivia up from dance class, I witnessed one such moment. A gal came in with her daughter, and they sat down in the foyer where they were taking off her street shoes and putting on her ballet slippers. The room was filled with other waiting moms and a few little children, and at a rather quiet moment, the little girl said loudly to her mom, "Why are you wearing that outfit again today? You wore that yesterday!" The mother's face flushed red, and she tried to quiet her child, and if a class full of 3 year old ballet students hadn't come flooding into the foyer at that moment, I was prepared to say, "Honey, I am feelin' ya! I am right there with you! Hey, if it's not dirty (and sometimes that rule gets bent a little, too) why not rewear it?" Another funny moment occurred on Wednesday that you can probably sympathize with if you're a mom. As I was dropping Olivia off at preschool in her halloween costume, another mom was walking her two children into preschool when we discovered she had her shirt on inside out. She laughed so hard, and all of us joined in with her, several of us throwing out the hand of sympathy through words like, "I've been there, sister...I AM there...etc.!" Life gets joyfully crazy sometimes. Let's try to avoid the temptation towards self-pity and instead head towards gratitude. Let's pray about opportunities to encourage one another. Maybe you have a story to encourage us!

I'm lookin' at the man in the mirror...

I took a picture like this of Olivia when she was just about this same age. I love a baby's curiosity and fascination with mirrors. It's so fun to see them trying to figure it all out--who is this cute little baby looking at me? Well yesterday and today have been fairly uneventful. Benjamin did get some shots yesterday morning as part of a well-child visit, so he's been a bit fussier than normal. Olivia started in with a cough on Wednesday, and yesterday I could tell she was really not feeling very well. She was also a little "fussy". I took a snapshot of her to show you what kind of attitude I've been dealing with the last 24 hours or so. I do have to acknowledge that we did allow her to indulge in sugary items on the 31st, so I'm sure that some of this sweet spirit has been affected by that. The other "big news" of the last couple of days has been that Benjamin ate his first vegetable last night--sweet pototoes! He seemed to love them. I've included a pic of him chowin' down on the good parts.
So here's what's been on my mind lately. I was drinking water out of a plastic tumbler a couple of days ago at lunch, and when I picked it up from the placemat, there seemed to be more water than usual left behind--you know how water kind of sweats off of plastic cups? Well, there were two big water droplets beneath the cup when I lifted it. A little tinge of sadness came over me when I realized there was a tiny crack in the bottom of this cup, because this is the last of a set of four tumblers that came with a matching acrylic pitcher--all of the other pieces have cracked. They're clear with brightly colored flowers painted all around the sides. I was given this cute set as a wedding gift, and I think there is something within me that hates to see the last tumbler fall prey to the intensive heat of the dishwasher (yes, I know acrylic items shouldn't really be put in there, but come on--we all get a little lazy). I'm not about to shed tears over this, but something within me just hates to see it go. You know what I did? I washed it and put it away again! Why? I don't know! May of '08 will be our 10 year wedding anniversary, so I suppose I should be impressed that this little tumbler lasted this long. The others have all been casualties of the dishwasher in the last year or so as well--except for the pitcher--its handle cracked off. Maybe now that I've written about it I'll feel free to toss it. You know our life together now as a couple is so wonderful and rich, but that cup reminds me of "the early days"---Notice I don't call them the "good old days", and that's not because they weren't good; they were great, but the early days do have some special memories. So it's time to buy four new tumblers and a matching pitcher for the next decade, right?