Down at the river...

there were four-wheelers running, little boys playing, a fire burning, parents relaxing, and Saturday was at its best.

Some friends of ours have a sweet place down by the river. We have been invited other times to go with them and just hang out, but the timing always seemed wrong or someone would get sick right before.

Today though, it all worked out for everyone. Our boys played with their boys at bamboo stick fighting, riding the trails, throwing twigs into the fire, swinging in the hammock and burping root beer. The stuff of which boys' dreams are made.

I was completely at peace watching the fun and staying warm by the fire. Peace and quiet all around my outside and all within my insides.

Thanks for a great day, friends.

Some mummies have humps...

I discovered this while reading a book on Ancient Egypt to my 5 year old. We were talking about mummies and looking at several pictures of the sarcophagi.

He pointed to one picture and commented, "I think this one might be a girl mummy because she has humps. You know, like you have humps."

How's that for an ego boost--I have "humps" that look like a mummy's.

I believe that it's a button...

on my blog. All of you veteran bloggers will just have to chuckle quietly, please, over this newbie's astonishment that a piece of HTML actually worked! Hold on for a moment while I simply gaze at it....Okay, I'm back. Unbelievable! I must have been crooking my pinkie toe in just the right way for that to happen.

Anyway, what's the big deal? Well, in trying to navigate the blogosphere and meet some of the other really, really good writers, you learn about these different events like carnivals, tours, and blog parties. These blog events are ways to both meet and greet other like-minded bloggers. I feel like the shy girl at the 7th grade dance hoping that I don't get laughed out of the gymnasium because my hair is frizzy. Partly the reason why I haven't till now joined in on any of the blogging fun. The other reason would be I haven't known, until TODAY, how to post a button on my sidebar. Now things are going to change!

So, the deal with the blog party is to visit 5 Minutes for Mom the week of March 2nd through the 9th and any bloggers who visit should sign the Mr. Linky thing. Non-bloggers can still visit and see what other blogs o'interest are participating.

It's my first party, so hope the punch is good and that they like my hair. Maybe I'll even win a party favor.

Conquering sheep...

or sheep conquering? Bet in both cases you probably think I mean to go out and knock down some sheep, right? A new version of cow-tipping, maybe? Aren't sheep docile, fluffy, perhaps somewhat slow, but certainly counted among the genteeler of animals? I'm not a sheep farmer, you realize. I'm sure they have their bad habits. Still, I don't really think of sheep as too high up on the food chain--rather more as part of the food chain.

I'm mostly interested in all the Biblical illustrations of people and sheep, believers especially as sheep. The prophets called the people of Israel sheep, 1 Kings 22:17. David called the people of his kingdom sheep, 1 Chronicles 21:17. The Psalmists called people sheep, Psalm 44, 49, 74, 78, 79, 94, 100 and others. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Zechariah, Ezekiel, Hosea, Joel, Micah all have references of calling people sheep. Sheep gone astray, sheep to be brought back, sheep that have been lost and so on. The Gospels have several references where Jesus called believers sheep. Are you getting the point? Sheep equals people, and if you check the context of certain passages, sheep equals believers.

I think sheep equals believers is the context in Romans 8:36 when Paul writes, "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." We understand that, if you eat meat, sheep are on the list of slaughtering. So why then in Romans 8:37 does he say, "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

Does this mean we are conquering sheep? Imagine, if you would, a whole herd of conquering sheep coming across a green pasture, with victory in their eyes and a battle shout of praise in their bleating......Yes, I'm having a hard time with it too.

But if I'm going to be a sheep in one respect, lost and gone astray and needing a Good Shepherd and hearing His voice and following Him, then this world of trouble that seeks to slaughter me had better watch out--I'm coming a'conquering in the name of the Lord!

That's right--I'm a conquering sheep!

Baaaa!

Jack is on the list.

Heroes that is. I confess I have a similar fascination with the whole comic book storyline of villains and heroes that NBC has been showing.

This post however, is about WOW! the second night of the 24 premiere!

(Spoilers ahead, please navigate away if you're not interested in or have not yet watched the season premiere. That way, we'll all stay friends!)

I'm much more suitably impressed, than after the first night, seeing that it takes a suitcase nuke to light the fire under Jack's posterity to get him back into action. A man needs motivation, you see! So what's it going to take to get Prez Palmer to actually BE the President?

As regards the Heroes list, Jack has obviously attained cheerleader "heal thyself" status because there is no blood on the back of the tight shirt, and his shoulder bundle of nerves is obviously fully capable of full range motion. Again, the man has a reputation to keep.

For the most part though, the second night was all that I had hoped. Jack back in the saddle of the CTU-mobile telling Chloe, "I need you to do something for me." The whole "wearing comm" thing. I need that type of setup for the house when the future greats are roaming around the yard! The CTUists talking about the probablities of actually having found the terrorist and WMDs. (Is it just me or should they be aware by now that major crises of this sort last approximately 24 hours?)

Anyway, I was saying...Although the night did have its corny moments: the Chloe-Morris-Milo moment, and the fact that a late-20's something wannabe terrorist who has just experienced major blood loss and then scarfed down 12 Percosets is not drooling but still wielding a gun? I mean, really, the writers at 24 have got to work on the whole believability angle, don't you think?

As usual though, the writers have succeeded in hooking many of us into yet another round of world rocking events rivaling Apocalyptic predictions. Stay tuned for what will happen next.

The new and improved Jack?

All right, I haven't even checked other blog posts around the blogosphere about "24". I imagine that there are hundreds of bloggers posting about this today. If you don't watch "24" I suggest you navigate away because this post will bore you. If you haven't watched the premiere yet, I suggest you navigate away because this post contains spoilers. If you do watch "24", I'll try to add some links later in an update for other posts discussing the premiere. For now, please bear with me in my teeny tiny world of thoughts about last night's premiere.

Honestly, I'm a little bit undecided about it. My anticipation is that the second part tonight will enliven my hopes for this season.

The new Jack is obviously fragile right now, having just stepped off a 14 hour flight back from China where he was submitted to horrific and unimaginable torture of the worst kind--judging from the scars on his back and the burns on his right hand. Who wouldn't be? The writers earned their salt at the first twist, by having Jack return without knowing hardly anything of the past two years. This was where some significant gaps, unanswered questions, bothered me. In my writing world, I had pictured Jack returning triumphantly to take back America. Instead, he returns broken and not sure if he wants to do this anymore. His line about "dying for something instead of dying for nothing" was then picked up and used throughout the night by every other character.

Paraphrase: "Our plan has to work or Jack died for nothing." "You have to shoot him to pieces so that Jack died for something." "This was our only chance to help Jack die for something instead of nothing."

Moreover, Sutherland's depiction of Jack's emotional trauma seemed a little bit ambivalent, as well. Is Jack happy to be dying for something instead of nothing even though dying for something means more torture and ineffective CTU intelligence that has targeted the wrong terrorist?

"Okay, I haven't spoken in two years--they throw me on a plane--I'm here to be chained to a grate as the sacrificial imperialist American pig for President Palmer, but not the President Palmer I knew and laid down my life for, over and over and over--oh yeah, and this Fayed is really behind the attacks--superpowers return, please--I think?"

It's okay, Jack, I was a little confused with you as well. Hang in there, buddy. I'm sure you'll get your terrorist-stomping feet back under you in no time. You have a reputation to consider.

I also had a problem with the Ahmed storyline. That actor is easily in his late 20's and trying to pass for a 14 year old, from the looks of his friend "please wear my good luck charm necklace" guy? Why can't terrorists use adults for these critical "do you have the package?" mission jobs of world supremacy and domination? It seemed to definitely be a do-over rendition from day 4. At least that was a whole family affair of terrorists.

Lest you think this whole post is a whine about the premiere. Things I liked included Jack's McGyverian resources of escape, sabotage and terrorist-dispatching. I loved seeing Chloe's petulance on behalf of Jack, and her soft side with Morris reminded me of Tony and Michelle--great storyline. I love the Karen-Bill relationship. And seeing Jack work with a known terrorist to stop a worse known terrorist is very clever writing. The imaginable twists and turns of that co-patriotism are fascinating speculation. I'm sure perfectly planned by the writers.

I'm curious to see who the "moles" will be in the White House and CTU. You gotta have a mole. And I'm interested to see what will be the switch that throws Jack back into full throttled Jack-mode. Let it not be the return of Kim is in trouble.

At this point, my husband says, "It's. A. Television. Show."

Ha! He knows nothing. This is reallllll stuff. The known world is in danger of being blown to pieces, bit by bit by a miscreant terrorist. We need Jack--the full Jack--back to take names and ask governmental pardon later.

I'm hopeless. I'll be watching tonight for more of "Jack's back!"

Answering nosy questions...

because we feel the need to explain ourselves is what Jules over at Everyday Mommy wrote about a few days ago. Jules has one son, LoveBug, and apparently runs into strangers who feeling the love, feel the need to delve into her reproductive plans. She posted that two frequent questions she receives are "Is he your only one?" and "Will you be having another one?"

I wish my suggestions for snappy repartee to use could have been more clever because this is a situation common to my own experience. (Jules, I blame the 3 day tension headache. I'll try harder next time.)

I have three wonderful sons. Whom all look nothing alike to one another. Two do not even look alike to me at all. Because two were adopted. The two whom were adopted are only 7 1/2 months apart in age. Can you even imagine the questions I received?

Actually, it became great fun to hear the inquiring minds whom had to know just what was going on in my boudoir--or so they thought.

When future great one was 3 years old and future great two was 2 1/2 years old, I was pregnantly large with future great three. It was voting day, and the polls were wo-manned by several grandmotherly Daughters of the Revolution types.

Enter waddling and wrestling two wrestling with each other toddlers:
DAR: "My goodness, you do have your hands full."
Me: "Yes, thank you. Here is my ID."
DAR: "Are these both yours?"
Me: "Yes, they're both mine. (Boys running circles around my heels) Do I need to sign here?"
DAR: "There on the left, sweetie. Well, they seem very close in age. *Pause* Are they very close in age?"
Me: "Yes, they're only 7 1/2 months apart actually."
*Stunned silence as normal human gestation and the math necessary to figure that one out are occurring*
DAR: "Oh...one of them must have been born early?"
Me: "Yes, Ma'am. The first one was born 2 1/2 months early."
*More stunned silence because the mathematical facts of the first one being born early still doesn't make sense*
DAR: "And you're pregnant--again?"
Me: "Yes, Ma'am, I am. Can I vote over there now?"

And so that conversation was repeated more than once for six months of my pregnancy, because I show quickly! When my mother-in-law chastised me for not telling the whole story, I told her that if I was asked the question by someone who genuinely wanted to hear the whole thing and not just sniff my business, that I'd certainly tell the details. Otherwise, I was just trying to survive pregnancy with toddlers 7 1/2 months apart!

My husband said, "Wait till you tell them that each one has a different genetic father!"

Hoo boy! I didn't have the nerve for that! but I do now.

To be hop, I mean hip...

I actually have no idea how to be hip. Unless of course I'm holding a baby, and then I want to be able to hold one on my hip. It's such a relief when they reach that stage. Your productivity for all that can be accomplished with the free hand and the baby-on-hip-holding hand is amazing. Toothbrushing, talking on the phone, and applying mascara while keeping said baby on hip is a multi-task feat of my past.

But this post isn't about holding babies on hips. My babies are way past the holding on my hips stage. Unless of course, I needed a hernia--or hip dislocation. Just yesterday at the doctor's office to get a script for his sinus infection, my oldest weighed in at 69 1/2 pounds. I knew that food was going somewhere. We don't have a dog anymore.

Still, this post isn't about where the food goes. Unless of course you've been through the blogosphere lately and seen that every blogger worth her weight, or actually trying to be not worth her weight, except in a character quality way, has posted on healthy eating or healthy recipes or moving to keep healthy. I'm eating M&M's in rebellion.

And maybe that's where this post is going. I'm into rebellion. For a non-hop, I mean, non-hip mom like myself, rebellion has to take its forms in what it can. Low rise jeans are out. Skinny black Gap jeans are out. Tattoos and body piercings beyond the one hole per ear that I currently have are out. So all that is apparently left is the chance for me to win the Crazy Hip Blog Mama contest for the Pink Nintendo DS Lite. I'm so non-hip that I don't really know that I'd be able to play the thing.

What intrigues me, is that the Brain Age game that comes with it, promises to lower the age of your brain...wait a minute, that sounds funny. I mean, what if I end up playing it so well that this 30 something mom ends up with the brain of a 12 year old. I'd be just slightly older than the future greats I'm constantly trying to outwit. Unless of course, it worked me back into my twenties, when I seemed to have many more complete thoughts.

Oy vey, the cost of trying to be hop, I mean, hip!

Weakness of the flesh

This morning I had to give a lecture on a passage of the Bible. I prepared for it, studied the material, utilized the resources, and exercised diligence with faith.

But this morning, my head was a'poundin' and my stomach was a'torn up with less than favorable effects, and I just felt tired. I even grumbled to my husband this morning that I expect to feel tired when I stay up too late, but last night I purposefully went to bed early so I'd be fresh and ready. More like I was freshmeat being pounded by a tension headache and adrift on a sea of unfriendly stomach waves.

I love public speaking. And I've always been a talker--ask my mom. My first words comprised paragraphs. My parents pegged me to be an attorney. I was so eager to argue, even before my teen years, and therefore, always in an opening and closing argument.

So if the work was put into the first part, and the desire has always been there in the second part, why does this weak flesh quiver and tremble before the task?

Simply because the task is always bigger than me. I know that even my greatest diligence could be better. My depth of study could be deeper. And my faith should be greater.

Which is why I pray privately, just before I must speak. In those few moments, whether alone or with a friend, I ask God to do in me all that I cannot do by any strength or action of my weak flesh. And grace abiding, He does. Not because of me, but because His Word is important to Him.

Why the Lord chooses to use weak flesh that aches and trembles and quakes and quivers and constantly fails, I don't know. But whether I'm on the giving or receiving end of His work, I'm so very grateful that He does.

Psalm 22:26 "The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek Him will praise the Lord. Let your heart live forever!"

I'm caught up with laundry until...

right about now because the future greats all just came in gloriously dirty from building mud huts. Whoopee! And unfortunately it's too cold right now for me to strip them of those clothes and have them only in nature's barest attire just to get completely caught up. Sigh! The neverending cycle of laundry.

But otherwise, every piece of clothing has been washed and dried and is neatly--okay, not so neatly, but at least it's in the baskets, people. The next step of making it into the drawers and closets is a work in progress.

Since returning to regularly scheduled programming of Bible study and officially off of holiday break, I'm becoming ever more aware of the many works in progress that God so graciously continues in me.

I realized last night in some pondering, with consternation, that I didn't accomplish all of my holiday goals, including concentrated time in prayer and reading. By His grace, I did accomplish several goals, but there is always more to do. It's the laundry again. I'm washed and dried, but in some spots still lying ever so not neatly in the basket. A bit rumpled and wrinkled and waiting to be placed in my proper home.

Anticipating future glory, complete adoption as His daughter, the fulfillment of this body's redemption, the absence of sin--as a believer, all part of the hope in which I was saved. While the completion takes time, the completion certainly occurs.

Psalm 111:7-8 "The works of His hands are faithful and just; all His precepts are trustworthy,
They are steadfast for ever and ever, done in faithfulness and uprightness."

I blame it on not having Diet Coke....

at lunch that resulted in the 2 1/2 hour, pillow-wet-from-drooling, nap that I took today. But boy howdy, did it feel nice. It was that napping "drugged" sleep that only needed a gentle rainfall outside to make it perfectly complete.

But it wasn't raining outside--it was a balmy 70 degrees. And I could hear the children playing outside, the neighbor girls singing "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" at the top of their lungs, and the purr of the cats also napping with me.

Yes, that's the sleep that I've been needing since Wednesday.

Of course, I'll be up til 2 a.m. tonight.

That's okay. It was a great nap.

51st post

I noticed on the blogger dashboard that I've written 50 posts. I don't know whether to be astonished that I've written that much or confused that I can't even remember what I wrote. Oh well, the point is to have and write down complete thoughts. The point is to have and write down...what was I saying? You get the picture. Some days will be better than others.

The school that the future greats were at started back today. However, we've been homeschooling-lite (short days) for two days last week and since yesterday of this week. The flexibility of scheduling is encouraging for them, and me, because they like having schoolwork interspersed with life activities.

For example, the other day they were a bit bored with regular play and they followed me into the schoolroom where I was working on lesson plans. I asked my oldest to choose a picture from our history books to sketch, and the second to work on some Logic Links games. My youngest practiced his handwriting. All three were at work on bonafide "learning" activities. After about 30 minutes they were ready to go on to the next thing, but for that 30 minutes, it was like I had put shredded broccoli into the spaghetti sauce. They were learning AND having fun.

I've started another blog at homeschoolblogger.com. I thought it would be good to have a place to write only about homeschooling. I'll use this site for life in general posts and those, whaddya call them....oh yeah, complete thoughts. You can link to it from the sidebar. Veneror Vigiloque is the name. It's from our family crest and means Reverence and Vigilance Also. Two other things about which to have complete thoughts. But those will have to wait for other posts--maybe somewhere in the 50's.

Quickly, there's a fire....

about to start in my hardly-used-because-we-live-in-the-middle-of-Georgia (but above the gnat line, people) which-is-currently-experiencing-an-unusual-and-unseasonably-warm- January fireplace. Tonight it's going to be *freezing* so we thought we'd light a fire and pretend it's winter.

We are not gas logs people. Neither are we gas grill people. My husband is all about the power of the match or lighter fluid or charcoal or whatever combustible materials he can combust. I love his comments when we're watching Survivor and some marketing executive/waitress/yoga teacher is trying to light the fire with the old flint and coconut hair, "You're supposed to strike it with some meaning, man!" "No, don't blow that way, you're going to put out the whole thing." And on and on. Seriously though, if I am ever on a deserted island, I'm going to pray he's with me because I'd be assured that whatever varmints were caught would be safely cooked to proper temperature over a fire!

The boys are hurrying to get showered and into pajamas so that they can watch the whole event. It is quite exciting.

Other notes flitting randomly through my head:
*Use the dishwasher liberally. Fill it up with everything possible and get out of the kitchen.
*Everybody's posting about their new year's diet. In rebellion I ate some M&Ms before I posted. I know I mentioned in my list for 2007 about walking on the treadmill, but that's not to lose weight. It's so that the weight I'm maintaining doesn't jiggle as much.
*I think Eddie Bauer has Ann Taylor"ed" their sizes because I now wear a smaller size in their clothes than usual.
*It was a good day.
*Muchas gracias to the friend who invited the boys for a playdate today. They're still talking about the fun they had.

Gotta run, the fire is starting!

Since I'm still on the whole new year's kick...

I've been thinking about 10 things that I'd like to do this year. Here they are in no particular order, other than randomness.

1) Read the Mitford series of books
2) Take up knitting again
3) Learn how to use the digital camera so I can upload pics to this blog (I realize that I may be the last mommy blogger in the known world who cannot currently do this--patience, dear friends)
4) Take a weekend trip with the great man and no future greats--somewhere in the mountains (gee, I hope he reads this!)
5) Return to a 3 times a week treadmill routine
6) Return to baking homemade bread (which makes #5 all the more important to do!)
7) Take a weekend trip with some girlfriends that involves lots of giggling & lots of chocolate, and a little bit of shopping, dependent on the ole' checking account thingy
8) Learn how to crochet (after I've finished a few knitting projects)
9) Institute monthly "dates" with my future greats so that their training for how to treat a lady begins with special time with mom
10) Be consistent with blogging so that my writing improves and complete thoughts continue

While I haven't finished framing my particular spiritual goals, I do have some ideas:
1) To press on with better Scripture memory
2) To be diligent in my study and teaching
3) To read more of the classics on theology (still working on that list!)

The upside to goals is having a target at which to aim. The downside is fighting discouragement when the target is not hit. Sanctification occurs somewhere in between the two.

Philippians 3:12 "Not that I have already obtained it, or have already become perfect, but I press on in order that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus."

Happy 2007!

New Year's Eve at this house last night was just plain....ordinary. Our initial plans had included having friends over to play double canasta and eat yummy snacks until the midnight tolled but 2 out of 3 future greats are sniffling, snorting, and coughing up their lungs. So we cancelled what would have otherwise been an *exciting* time!

Instead, the great man was downstairs in the basement *cleaning* or as he candidly admitted was probably just moving stuff around. I lounged on the red couch to the tune of some football games and then spent 1 1/2 hours in front of the computer taking an HTML tutorial, found at http://www.w3schools.com/html/default.asp. When I reached the sections on HTML code for colors, my eyes (and brain) lost all focus.

But wouldn't you know that 2007 still arrived. There's just no stopping of time. Unless you're in line at WalMart on New Year's Day buying your family's lunch at 1:28 p.m.

This morning was lazy--breakfast at 10, lunch at 2, who knows when supper will happen. There are no plans for any traditional New Year's Day lunch. And I'm perfectly all right with that. While I don't buy in to the whole black eyed peas tale, I do keep hearing my mom's voice, "Whatever you do the first day of the year, you do the rest of the year."

Well, I genuinely hope so. It has been relaxing and easygoing. If our family accomplished any goals from last year, it was to take stock of the rat race and opt out on a couple of things. There is still much to be done in decluttering, de-rushing, and de-stressing, but just being able to write January 1, 2007 on the first check of a new checkbook, made me feel all fresh inside.

Here's to a new year!

Last day of the year...

and what do I want to write?

No idea. There's this internal pressure of blogging to write something distinctively witty and engaging for special events--blogging anniversary, national holidays, cultural events, and the last day of the year.

Still no idea. At least no idea for anything distinctively witty. How about some history? Maybe that will launch some complete thoughts.

New Year's Day for me as a child was almost as big an event as Thanksgiving. My mom would work all day on the 31st, in the kitchen, to cook all the fixin's of a Southern New Year's day dinner. We'd have ham, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, rolls, black eyed peas, congealed salad something, and whatever else took her fancy. My dad was not a fan of collard greens, but I remember them a couple of years anyway. I was never and to this day am still not a fan of sweet potatoes and black eyed peas. As a child I was made to eat at least one bite. But during my freshman year of college while I was home on break, I rebelled. I told my mom that this New Year's I was not going to eat sweet potatoes or black eyed peas. I told her that I had been making food choices on my own for almost 5 months at college and those two items were not on my list.

My mom was astonished and furious. She told me that the black eyed peas would bring me financial increase--I didn't care. She told me that she had worked hard to cook them--I told her thank you for the effort, no thank you for that dish. She told me that I would have to iron as consequence for rebellion against the black eyed peas. And she warned me that ironing on New Year's Day would bring bad luck. I told her I didn't care, I wasn't eating them.

For whatever reason, that New Year's Day memory is one of my most significant. Mom doesn't remember it whatsoever, and our relationship was not irreparably injured because of black eyed peas. To me, it was a step in establishing my own path as related to college but also for life. I know that I made choices then (and probably still do) that raised the eyebrows. But to my parents' credit, they let me forge my own path, prayed for me in it, and loved me anyway.

In years since, New Year's has never been what I expected it to be, but then the year itself has never been what I expected it to be. Every year is more of a process of setting new goals and forging new paths and reaping consequences, both good and bad, for choices made. Hopefully, there's less rebellion driving my decisions, but I'm sure there's still some.

So for this last day of the year, my thoughts are more along the lines of things that I'd like to work towards in 2007. Whether it's things that I didn't quite accomplish last year that I want to finish, or it's new things all together as God has given me new desires.

I have some goals, I have some ideas, I have some paths I'd like to explore, but they're not fleshed out enough to write about yet. Stay tuned. One thing I can tell you for certain is that I will not be eating black eyed peas.

Happy New Year! May 2007 be a year of blessing in your life!

You dropped the bomb on me...

is what I will be singing, or rather croaking, tomorrow morning after a two hour family fun skate night with friends. Eeeyowie!

These dogs are barking! The bunion is burgeoning! The blister is blossoming! My feet will never be the same again. And there are muscles calling me unpleasant things, reminding me that there are very valid reasons for not trying to skate once a certain person has reached a certain thirty-something age. I'll just have to claim decreasing ability to hear because of age.

Honestly though, I was one grooving mama in my roller skates, the old timey kind because my platform requires the four-wheeling platform and not the four-wheeled blade. It took a few laps to recall the whole left, right, left, right pattern but then, it was like riding a bike--with like riding a bike soreness that follows too. Hands to the side...balance...BALANCE....glide, glide, glide...skate, skate...turn, turn, quickly turn....balance.

Skating at the rink brought back other kinds of pre-adolescent memories--the disco ball, colored lights, too loud music, couple skate, skate tricksters and speedsters, and 12 year old romances giggled over with friends. Those were the days. Days I'm glad to be through with entirely, unless one day I'm the not cool mom sitting on the side watching my sons skate.

Truth be told, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and the pleased as punch grin of fun on my friend's daughter's face was worth a thousand words. Thanks for the invitation--what a blast from the past!

(And the cats didn't starve because on the way home I bought a bag of dry cat food for them. See, everyone is happy.)

The cats might starve...

because we are completely out of dry cat food. I've told them they will just have to live on their *ample* fat reserves--that or eat Christmas cookies.

I could go to the grocery store and buy more cat food, but I am alone at my house. The great man, really great I'm thinking right about now, took the 3 future greats to the "property" for a fun day of four wheeler riding, hiking, target shooting & just general "I'm all boy" moments with their cousins and uncle. Woo Hoo! I believe is the proper response.

So I'm home alone--working on some studies, reading some books, taking down some Christmas decorations, thinking about seeing a movie--all by myself. Woo Hoo! again.

The idea of going out just to buy cat food, well, it's not on the top 10 list for things to do today.

Ergo, the cats just might starve.

Get. These. Christmas. Cookies. Out. Of. This. House.

Seriously! I may never wear the clothes given to me for Christmas if 1) someone doesn't get these cookies out of here or 2) I exercise some self-discipline and quit feeding them into my mouth!

But they're so good! And it will be a whole year before I make them again! And it's just a nibble! The excuses leave a bitter taste, but the cookies sure are sweet.

I suppose the third option would be to let the boys have cookies after every meal, even breakfast. Yeah, that would make me a super cool mom. And they'll certainly burn the calories. I'm liking this idea more and more. And what better way to have them use those new toothbrushes that were in their stockings? A solution may be occurring even as I type!

Boys, it's dessert time all the time until the cookies are gone!

Merry Christmas!

It's been a full day of unwrapping & exclaiming, whooping & hollering, thanking & hugging! What a great day!

I remember being sad as a teenager thinking that Christmas for me as an adult would never be as exciting as it had been for me as a child because my parents went to great lengths to make the whole day magical. I never thought I could replicate that magic. But as a parent now, albeit with some different traditions of Christmas, there is still something quite incredible in seeing my sons experience the excitement and pleasure in receiving and opening and enjoying gifts. The morning started with Happy Birthday, Jesus and just increased in tempo from there.

I love to see their joyful faces & hear the excited shouts of discovery. And of particular delight to me is how Christmas thankfulness shortcuts any usual sibling quarreling or discontent. That may come tomorrow and will be dealt with accordingly.

But for today, it was just plain merry--to have family all around, to hear laughter and to see smiles--what a terrific gift!

I hope that your Christmas was merry as well! All hail, the Savior is born!