Why I Do What I Do

There are days when I wonder why I keep up with this blog. I mean, in reality, how many people even noticed that I was gone last week?

I was chatting with a friend today who reminded me that I blog for me. Sure, it's nice to be recognized and read. It's super fab to get comments from friends and strangers alike. But the reason that I blog is because my memory is sketchy at best and I want to remember everything, not just the big things like building the house 5 years ago that still has us slightly traumatized. (It's true what they say - if your marriage can survive building a house together, it can withstand anything.) (Maybe you've never heard that before. That would probably be because you've never built a house.)

I want to remember, ten years from now, that there was a time that Micah put his thumb in his mouth and droned around it. That thumb was calloused for years, and twice the size of his other thumb. The droning was so annoying that we prayed for it to stop. It did. Right about the time he started griding his teeth. We realized that the droning wasn't the worst sound in the world, and prayed for mercy. God granted it. We now no longer even realize that he's gritting, and are slightly shocked when people mention that he is. The dentist yesterday just cringed visibly, and I had to ask what the matter was. I hadn't even realized what Micah was doing.

I want to remember that this summer has been the busiest and craziest ever, and yet one of the best. The kids each grew in ways that amaze me, and I'm not talking just physically. The spiritual leaps and bounds they've taken make my heart sing. God has blessed us with some incredibly wonderful kids.

I want to remember that Micah tossed dogs into the pond, and even in the dryer. I want to remember that he let them out of their kennels and we had to round them up from the far reaches of the 'hood. I want to remember that he plays fetch with their rawhide bones just to get their goats. Because someday he may outgrow this stage and I'll be able to appreciate the boy he's become without missing the toddler stage too much.

I want to remember that Luke has been nothing but a saint over the entire year of his braces adventure. He's still excited to see the orthodontist monthly, and hasn't once complained about pain or things he can't eat. That kid is so good.

I blog for me. If someone finds my place here on the 'net to be amusing, or interesting, or even heartwarming, I'm touched. I keep it real, because I want to remember my life the way it was. The good, the bad, the things that don't always go the way I planned them in my head. I want this to be an honest rendering of life here. There will be a day when the kids are out of the house and I'm bored and the house is clean, and I'll wonder why on earth I never kept a clean house when the kids were here. I'll read this and know. It was because I was too busy chasing Micah down to put underpants on him. Again.

Text Speak. OMW (Oh, My Word!)

Sit down, world, we have texting.

To all those people that I made fun of for texting in-house, from opposite ends of the couch, from upstairs to downstairs, from the bathroom - I'm sorry. I am now one of you, and I see the benefits. I had strong suspicions that if I ever became part of the texting world that I would never go back, and those were certainly well founded suspicions.

I now text my daughter, who is upstairs, to tell her that dinner is ready. She texts from the back seat of the van to ask if we're there yet. (I was the passenger. I don't text while driving.) Sam and I text things back and forth all day that we don't really need to call about but we don't want to forget to tell each other. (Micah pooped in your closet, dear.) (Okay, I've not texted that specifically, but it's happened. Several times.)

On my very first day of texting I realized that I should probably carry the phone around with me so that I'd know if I was important or not. When I needed to make a phone call, I used my cell since it was handily right there. I made the grave mistake of dialing the area code of the phone number, and then jumped down a line and dialed the seven digits of the fax number. (Old eyes, n'at. They sometimes play tricks on me.)

Huge mistake. HUGE.

Mixing things up like that resulted in reaching an x-rated teleslut. I couldn't hang up fast enough. And WHEW, that was overwith. Except it wasn't. Not even five minutes later I got a text message from them. The words used in that text were enough to make my Baptist eyes bleed. It said to hit END if you don't want to receive any more (Hello!) so I did. But there was a little thing in parenthesis that mentioned $18. Would I be charged $18 to get rid of these people? GAH!

They texted again a few days later. So much for that END and $18 charge. Unless they wanted $36 out of me, which at this point was looking like it was going to happen. I needed to call my cell phone company and explain what was going on and ask if they could help me get those charges removed, because DOUBLE GAH! Except I kept forgetting to do that.

I was texted again today by those horridly unwanted people, and just realized that to end the insanity I needed to REPLY END. I missed that reply bit before, which makes perfect sense. (Hey, I'm a new texter. Give me some room for error.) So I wasn't being charged at least, although I was still on their She Wants A Slut list. (Oh, the horrors of embarrassment.) I am afeared of that $18 charge, and desperately need to figure out how to block that number from texting again.

There are days that I wish I was more technologically inclined. Good heavens. I'm beginning to think that texting is of the devil himself.

And hello, Blogger? Texting is too a word. And I thought I was behind the times. (Insert eyeroll emoticon here.)

Is There No End To The Things That I Learn From Him?

That whole beach getaway was just what we needed to recharge our batteries, but unfortunately it wasn't exactly a dream vacation for Micah. The poor boy was sure that we were out to kill him from the stress.

The first day was rather cold-ish and the beach really wasn't an option, so we headed to Dover's Air Force Base to tour the museum. The boys thought this was all kinds of cool, and Becky patiently tolerated it, but Micah spazzed. The poor, poor boy. He hates to fly, and when I say hates I really mean that he gets so worked up that he loses all bowel control. So you can imagine his reaction at an Air Force Base, with planes in and out of the runway non-stop. I had to physically remove him from the van myself. Inside the museum wasn't a whole lot better because GAH! There are planes in there! Once he figured out that we were just looking and not actually getting on one, he calmed down and tried to enjoy himself.

And then we got on one.

The poor kid was beside himself, trying to keep at least one of his parents from boarding. Obviously if the whole family isn't on at once it can't accidentally take off. He had a plan. He was also much relieved when everyone was back on firm concrete.

The museum was not his favorite place. Still, being a trooper, he managed to have a good time between freak sessions.

We headed to a beach there at Dover and soon realized that Dover's beaches aren't the best in the state. It looked like mulch floating in the waves, and Micah's sensory issues kicked into high gear. I haven't seen him that skeeved out over sensory in a long time. He nearly lost his lunch in the gagging, and that was just looking at it. Still, since it was too cold to actually swim and we were simply walking the beach looking for things of interest, he managed to overcome his horror and enjoy himself. It became his personal mission to toss every dead horseshoe crab back into the water. There were a lot of them.

The next day was incredibly hot (yeah, beach weather!) and we headed to the ocean to swim. Micah was thrilled. THRILLED. He donned his life vest and trunks and ran ahead of us to the shore. We wanted to walk a little ways down-beach from the crowd but he was having none of that listening to us stuff. He was headed to the water! That excitement lasted right up until a wave bowled him over, and then it was all over. The water tasted nasty, we didn't have a drink for him to rinse his mouth with, he spit and gagged, and refused to go back into the water for a good 10 minutes. He did finally learn to deal with the waves, but they certainly weren't as fun as they looked, and after 90 minutes he deemed it Time To Go. He was going back to the van with or without us. It was lunchtime, so we chose to join him.

So all in all, his vacation was kinda the worst ever, and yet he never grumbled or complained. He didn't set up a non-stop whinefest of wrongs, he didn't sulk in the back of the van, he didn't even sigh and roll his eyes at us. That boy just never ceases to teach me things. Sometimes life isn't what we expect it to be, but we've gotta make the best of it and have fun anyway. That's what I learned at least.

Saturday Shots, And An Explanation of Absence. No, The Dog Didn't Eat My Blog Post.

So, out of curiosity, did anyone even realize that I haven't posted in days? I generally have a very good reason for doing things, and trust me, there's a good reason for that as well. Let me take this short story and make it long, just for you.

We planned this relaxing beach vacation months ago. Really. And we also planned to have puppies born a week before we left, because one week old puppies are the easiest to leave. Mom-dog does all the taking-care-of and she's content to be with her babies without clamoring to be outdoors and running. It was perfect. In theory.

Then we had difficulty with puppies, and mom-dogs in labor, and I was bottle feeding a puppy. We were sure that the puppy would be fine by the time we had to leave, because a week is make-or-break with puppies. Monday I thought the puppy was on it's deathbed, and I let the beach rental know that we'd be late a day in coming. We'd play it by ear. Tuesday morning I woke up to the healthiest puppy I've seen in a long time. I took a giant step of Faith and trusted that God would care for my puppy in my absence because He knows that the Rocking Pony family desperately needed some time away.

God is good. VERY good. Our old, tired van got us to the beach and back with no problems. The puppy is growing and thriving. We are relaxed and tanned. The beach wasn't even crowded. I slept three entire nights straight through without being awakened by an alarm clock that insisted I needed to feed a puppy every other hour. Life is all smiles. God is good.

So, anyhoo - I generally post from the road, or have posts scheduled to go up in my absence, but it didn't happen this week. We didn't have internet access at the beach house, and that was okay with me. Being unplugged from business was nice, too. And since we didn't even know that we were leaving until Tuesday morning when I woke up, I didn't even think about pre-posting. Blame the 10 nights of no sleep if you need to. But in all honesty, the blog is still here, and so am I. A break every now and then might just be a good thing.

Hide And Seek Should Never Be This High Stakes

Micah is independent from the moment he gets up in the morning. He goes downstairs, puts in a movie, goes to the restroom, plays, and generally does everything except fix himself breakfast. Of course, there was that one time that he did fix himself a bowl of cereal. The milk was right up to the lip of the bowl, but there were only a few drops of milk on the floor. That day made me grateful for the other days that he brings a gallon jug of milk to find me, whether I'm in the sewing room or the shower or still in bed. (Perspective is a good thing.)

Besides fix himself a snack, the one other thing that Micah doesn't do is wipe himself. It's a phase every kid goes through when potty training. He tries every now and then to get the job done, but either he forgoes the toilet paper altogether, or he doesn't use nearly enough. Either way, the result is messy and requires twice the clean-up effort than it should. Mostly, when he needs cleaned up, he comes to find me. Just like when he needs a snack. Sometimes this results in droppings here and there between the bathroom and wherever I am. I am chalking this up to his lack of speech, and am now frustrated all over again by that hand of fate that he was dealt. I never thought I would miss that yell I NEED WIPED from a restroom.

So knowing all this, you'll know why I was a bit frantic the other week when Micah came upstairs with his lower half bare, and in need of a wipe. It was a doozie of a mess, and I wiped as well as I could before just putting him into the tub. In the meantime I put the kids in charge of finding his mess (sometimes it's not in the toilet) and his diaper. (This was first thing in the morning, back when he was still wearing an overnight diaper. And now, thanks to your encouragement, he doesn't wear one. NO MORE DIAPERS IN THIS HOUSE, EVER. Happy dancing here, all up and down the street.)

The diaper was not found. Not by the kids, and not by myself. Not in the trash, not on the bathroom floor, not anywhere at all. There was a day that I would have stressed over this until I found that diaper, but nowadays there is just too much work that needs done in this house to worry about a diaper that will eventually surface with or without my effort in looking. I went on with my day and barely gave it another thought.

******************

Today Micah came up from the basement with his lower half bare, and headed for the wipies box. I took care of his needs, then made him go back to the basement to get his clothes (and find a mess). I believe in teaching responsibility, and cleaning up after yourself is big.

Micah led me down the steps and over to the workshop side of the basement. There, in front of the door that leads outside, were his shorts and underwear. He walked by them and opened the door. He grinned proudly as he pointed to his accomplishment, laying there on the concrete just outside the door. And beside it was a diaper. The missing diaper.

Huh. Nobody ever thought to look there. Obviously.

So here is the part where I feel completely justified in yelling at all the boys in the family for using the great outdoors to relieve themselves. Not a one of them see anything wrong with sprinkling in the grass despite my protests otherwise. How does one tell a kid like Micah that it's acceptable to do one half of your business outside, but certainly not acceptable to take car of the other half there? My solution is to use one of the 3 toilets we have in the house All.The.Time.

Maybe I'll make the boys clean up Micah's mess next time as an object lesson in why we use the modern facilities that we have.

Celebrating Me! And You! And You, Too!

Becky asked me a good question the other day. "Is it wrong to, like, say that you're pretty if you are?" (I left the "like" in there because in that instance she was using it to convey the idea of an example rather than to interject something 'teen' into a sentence.)

It was ironic that she'd ask this question because I'd just read a blog post about something very similar. My friend at Burgh Baby was saying how we should celebrate our talents. Kids are so good at this (Hey, mom! Look at me! I'm riding my bike!) but somehow as we get older, we get the notion that taking credit for our accomplishments is wrong.
So Becky and I came to the conclusion that if you are pretty, it's alright to say so. If you can color well, it's okay to admit it. If you excel at sports, it's not bragging to say, "I'm good at soccer." But there's a fine line between taking pride in our accomplishments and bragging.

I think motive is a huge factor in determining anything that we say or do. If what we're saying is for the express purpose of making someone else feel inferior, it's wrong. If it's to self-deprecate, it's also wrong. But I think it's healthy to take pride in accomplishments. And I think we're doing our Creator a disservice to say that we've got no talents or beauty when He's taken time to give each of us something to be complimented and used.

Because Burgh Baby's mom is a wonderful example (in a lot of ways), I'm going to follow her lead. I'm just going to step out there and list a few things that I'm good at. Things that I'm proud of myself for. Things that I need to take ownership of.

1. I'm creative. While I may not be the best at coming up with original ideas, I can replicate someone else's idea pretty well without instructions. My home is filled with things that I've seen in magazines, loved, and made. If it involves a glue gun, sewing machine, or any kind of hands-on activity, I'm your girl.

2. I can teach. I teach Sunday School and Wednesday night Kids Club, and have learned that teaching comes naturally to me.

3. I can handle life's pressures pretty well. I'll gladly admit that stress will set me on edge, but I'm pretty good at taking that stress and using it to accomplish what needs to happen instead of coming apart at the seams.

4. I can organize well. I break things down into categories and groups, I label things, I neatly arrange by color and size. When I set about to clean something, it automatically gets organized in the process. It's the way my brain works.

5. I'm a incurable optimist. I see everything as a challenge to accept, a good time to be had, or an opportunity to learn.

6. I'm reliable. If I tell you I'll get something done, or be somewhere, I'll have it done and be there. It might be complete last minute, but it'll be done. And if something comes up that I absolutely can't fulfill what I've promised, I'll let you know ahead of time.

7. I'm a do-it-yourselfer. The sense of pride and accomplishment at a job well done is so much better than paying someone to do it for me. Plus it affords me the opportunity to learn something new if I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I'm not afraid to self-teach, either. But that's in the DIY category.

So what have you got? God has given each of us abilities and talents and it would be wrong of us to say that we've got none. Give me your best list!

Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them... Romans 12:6

Saturday Shots

Tack

Going Up

Worth Waiting For

Protective

It Went Differently In My Head and Other Confessions

So it's been established that I'm stuck here at the house all by myself, rattling around in the quiet. The things I should be getting done are mocking me. I've done laundry once. I've done dishes once. I sweep floor daily, but mostly because they don't really need sweeping. That is the extent of an entire week home, alone.

This thing we call a business, but in reality is me loving dogs a little more than most people do, made us come to a decision earlier this spring. We needed to replace a few of our girls. I spent days online, looking for a puppy that fit my demanding criteria. I came up with nothing. It was then that I remembered that nothing is too small for my God to be involved in, and prayed that either it become evident it's time to close the kennel, or He would send me the dog that's out there for us.

The very next morning I got a phone call from a kennel offering me an adult dog. We talked about mating her with a dog there before shipping, and keeping a few puppies from her litter as the replacements that we needed. It seemed like a definite go to continue the kennel. I spent the summer excitedly planning the future of those unborn puppies.

This week I haven't slept more than two hours at a time, sitting up with dogs in labor, bottle feeding puppies, and watching things happen that I can't take back. I'm emotionally drained, and have no puppies to keep.

So, did I somehow miss a memo that I should have hung up the kennel owner's hat? I thought for sure that God dropped this new dog on us for a reason, and yet things certainly didn't work out the way I saw them in my head. Somewhere in the quiet that I've been confined to, God reminded me that my plans aren't the end all and be all of my life. I know this. I also know that the beach house we rented next week is in God's plan as well. It'll be a welcome respite from the storm of this week. I'm so grateful that He looks out for every tiny detail of my life, right down to the restoration of my emotional sanity.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord.  Isaiah 55:8

Listen. Do You Hear the Silence?

This week is our church's Kids Camp. Camp is a family affair in the Rocking Pony home. This year, it's just the two younger boys in camp as actual campers. Becky is a counselor, and Josh has been assigned to be Micah's personal aide. Sam and I are both helpers/hand lenders for the daily activities. See? Complete family involvement. And it's so much fun. That water slide picture on Monday was from camp. The slide is 200' down a hillside, complete with switchbacks. It's instant smiles and giggles.

But this year circumstances have conspired against me, and despite my deepest desires and intentions, I can't be there. I am home instead. Can I just say that after an incredibly busy summer it's rather nice to sit and relax a bit? And it's so very nice to clean the floors and still have them clean an hour later. It's also nice to not have the sink fill with dishes as the dishwasher is cleaning Round #1. And I am completely enjoying the fact that I don't have to clean up messes, pick up toys, do laundry every hour on the hour, wonder where Micah is yet again, escape outdoors to be able to hear a phone conversation, worry about the chaos I'll find if I sew, or even cook for the masses.

So this is what life is like without kids. The clean house is awesome. The quiet is restful. I don't feel overwhelmed with responsibility.

I miss my kids.

I haven't quite reached boredom yet but I can see it coming.

I am grateful for this week of thwarted plans and much needed rest to teach me that a clean house is very nice, but a busy home filled with kids and chaos is so much nicer.

Come away by yourselves to a lonely place, and rest a while.       Mark 6:31

It's Been That Kind of Day

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
         Matthew 11:28

I'm grateful that the Lord keeps His promises. Even ones as simple as being the shoulder that I need to cry on occasionally.

Water Slides are Da Bomb

But The Cat Wasn't Away!

The store has been busier this summer than any summer previous, and it's not really a bad thing. I have learned to budget my time between the sewing room and the kids, which means that the housework is suffering in a bad way. (Hey, there's only so much time in a day, you know?) But being stellar at prioritizing, I figure dirt falls down the scale pretty far when my family and a job is involved.

The bad part is that when I'm in the sewing room, I kind of expect the rest of the family to step up to the plate and help watch Micah. Except they don't as much as I'd think they should. The dogs haven't been tossed into the pond in a while (yes!) but there are other things going down that shouldn't. Like chasing the dogs with a poking stick just to see them run, or letting the dogs outside to play fetch with them and then letting them freely roam the neighborhood afterward, or failing at potty use and not having the mess get cleaned up until I accidentally discover it hours later.

And then there was the day that Sam came up to the sewing room and asked if I knew that Micah was doing laundry.

No, I did not.

Micah discovered the magical qualities of the dryer last summer when he took the Roundup Gang swimming. I tossed them in the dryer, turned it on for a few minutes (or more) and they came out dry. Presto! Magic! Except, he's more a microwave-instant kind of guy and thinks that if he pops them in, closes the door, opens the door, then removes them that they should be dry. And they're not. He doesn't know how to turn it on (thank goodness) so I guess he does what he can. I thought this was what Sam was talking about with the whole "Micah is doing laundry" thing.

It wasn't.

Micah had Woody and Buzz in the washer, and somehow managed to turn it on. While this in and of itself is bad enough, the fact that there was an axe tumbling around with them made it so much worse. SO much worse. OH MY WORD WHY DID SOMEONE EVEN LET AN AXE LYING AROUND SO THAT MICAH COULD GET IT?!

But it gets worse.

Oh, yes. It does.

There was as dog in the dryer. A real dog. And he finally figured out how to turn the dryer on. The poor spaniel was tumbling around inside there for dear life. I am eternally grateful that Sam intervened when he did because I am horrified at what that could have become.

I will be very ready for school to start in 2 weeks.

Saturday Shots

Ye Olde Roadster

Boating

Twin Engines

Life Savers

Choo Choo

So Loved

Is It Right To Lie In Order To Flatter?

I haven't been sleeping well at night, and Micah just gets up earlier and earlier every day. The sleep deprivation is building so that I eventually fall asleep with my head cradled in my salad at dinner.

I fell and wrenched my shoulder a few days ago and the constant ache has been draining physically, mentally and emotionally. I've been short and snappy with everyone, and hating it. Between the pain and the lack of sleep, I've reached the point where I just don't care.

My eyes look back from the mirror at me, and I think they should belong to someone on a drinking binge. My hair is flat and I don't have the energy or desire to style it. I am in desperate need of makeup to even look presentable for the family, and I'm just too tired to apply it.

This is bad, considering that I have to drop Luke off at day camp in town at 8:30 AM. I am grateful for oversized sunglasses (Paris Hilton, anyone?) that hide half my face.

The AC is broken in the van, so we drive with windows down in the heat of summer. This does nothing good in the hair department, not even on flat days. (Why does a hairdryer fluff, but windows flatten?) I wear a hat when I drive. A bucket hat. It's awesome. It hides all my hair and the entire top half of my head. Between the hat and sunglasses, one sees my mouth and the tip of my nose. If I apply lip gloss on the way to somewhere, I could pretend that I'm more together than I really am provided I don't have to take off the things I hide behind.

I have to pick up Luke at lunchtime. My dad stops over to deliver sweet corn. The new dog doesn't recognize him and barks constantly as we try to talk. I'm running late now. The phone rings and I can't find it, so I ignore the ringing while trying to talk to Dad and watching the clock slowly tick down, reminding me that I'm running later with every minute. Micah is determined to go home with Pappy and has put on his brother's shoes and grabbed a bag of dress-up clothes to carry along. Going with Pap is not an option, so as I see Dad to the door I'm restraining Micah with my sore arm. Becky runs out the door to go to a friend's house, and I leave Micah with Josh while I run in to town to pick Luke up.

I promised Luke that I'd bring the camera to take a picture of the chair they painted at camp to auction off later in the year. I forgot it, and feel like a heel. In the chaos of the day, I have a hard time remembering small things. Or big things, even.

I sign Luke out and talk to the staff as he comes in off the playground. She compliments me on my sunglasses and handbag, and says I always look so stylish and classy. She liked the scarf that I wore the other day as well. (The one that I wore to hide the stain on my t-shirt, because tossing on a scarf was a lot easier than finding another clean shirt that matched.)

Sometimes it's the small things that make your day. Who would have thought that I had style or class? I feel stuck in the land of chaos and confusion far too often to be in the upper eschelon of fashion.

Thank you, Day Camp Staffer, for completely making my day. If you were lying through your teeth because you felt the overwhelming need to have to say something about the way I show up there daily, I don't want to know about it.

Dear Internets, Please Just Talk Some Sense Into Me

I have two sisters and a brother. My brother is 6 years behind my younger sister. In that 6 year gap, my mom had a stillborn boy, so when my brother came along he was very much like an only child in many, many ways. And the spoiling that went on with the boy was great. GREAT. We whined a lot about the things my brother got away with that we never would have. I may even to this day be whining about how he was treated differently.

For years, I thought this was due to the fact that he was the baby. Everyone knows that the baby is spoiled and petted. Parents don't want to give that baby up, so they coddle him far more than they ever did older siblings. And by years, I mean about 37 of my 39 years.

I've recently come to realize that while this is partly true, there are other factors involved. By the time the baby of the family comes along, parents are much more laid back. We realize that not every battle is worth fighting. We know that kids will be alright if they don't eat their breakfast at the table, but rather in the car on the way to somewhere. Again. We are experienced, and allow kids more freedoms because we're more secure in our parenting role.

Micah is spoiled. Very spoiled. I'm adult enough to admit this. I blame all of the above, and my age. I'm just too tired to fight things. Too many years of sleep deprivation will do this, you know. Ironically, the older kids are as much to blame for this as the younger ones, and they are the ones that whine when the baby is spoiled.

So this chronic sleep deprivation, coupled with my attitude of Do I Really Still Have to Deal With Things Like This After Being a Parent For 15 Years? has dragged out Micah's potty training longer than it should have. Plus, I didn't want to initiate a fight. I was afraid that I'd lose. That boy is stubborn.

He's pretty much for the most part potty trained. So he only deposits solids into the toilet on average of once every other week. It's coming along. But he's in underwear every day. It's the Pull-Ups at night that have been niggling in the back of my mind. My MIL informed me (when I forgot to send a Pull-Up for an overnight trip) that he got up in the night to go potty and went right back to sleep, waking up dry. I was amazed.

So I'm asking you for help. Please shame me into just tossing those Pull-Ups already. I think he's ready to go all night in underwear. Tell me that washing sheets on occasion isn't the worst thing in the world. Tell me to expect more of him, and just make him grow up already.

Anyone? Help?

A Day at Idlewild Park

Better Than a Band Aid

Becky spent the past week in New York City with the youth group. She was absolutely thrilled over this because her dream city is New York and she's begged to go for years. I don't do cities and have already been there once, so I wasn't keen on taking here there EVER. It was a win for everyone concerned.

She got home today after 8 days of intense inner city travel. Sam and I ran into town to pick her up, and took Micah along with. He was thrilled to see her. He sat beside her in Subway as we ate dinner, and we listened to her tales of a week's worth of excitement.

The youth group was there to share the Gospel with inner city kids in Queens. The church they were staying at had cautioned them that a local gang was bold enough to break and enter in broad daylight and that the girls should never go anywhere without an adult present. It was one of these kids' little brother that they became very close to. Becky cried as she relayed this boy's story to us, and the impact he had on their lives as well as the one they had on his. She was truly touched by the different lifestyle these kids have, and the bleak future that awaits them.

As she poured our her heart, with tears streaming down her face, Micah tried to comfort her. He doesn't like to see others cry and will always give a hug or a pat on the back to help out. He laid his head on her shoulder and put his arm around behind her. Then he looked up and saw the tears. There was only one thing to do to cheer her up.

He fed her an onion.

The boy loves onions. He eats them like an apple. We get extra onions on his half of the sub and it makes him a very happy boy. He simply wanted to share what was near and dear to his heart. He cares that much.

Sunday Afternoon Drive, on a Friday

Last Friday we were invited to attend the Pittsburgh Science Center as part of a charter school group. This was terribly fun and exciting, right up until Friday morning when I was heading toward Pittsburgh in the van with bad tires, and realized that I'd be in the heat of rush hour traffic on our way home.

I don't do city driving. It scares me. A lot.

I negotiated with the boys in the back seat on options for the day and we came up with a plan. We'd already packed a brown bag lunch for the Science Center (as per instructions) so decided to take that lunch to Mammoth Park, enjoy the playset and slide and have a picnic, then head to the fun get it super cheap store for back to school gear.

Mammoth is a fun place to spend some time, and it's right on the way to the mall, but it's just somewhere that we never stop. We should seriously remedy that. In fact, when I described to Luke where we were going he said, "so it's real? I thought it was a dream!" It's been that long since we've been there. They have an awesome slide that goes on forever and ever, but unfortunately the day we were there it wasn't that fast. And by it wasn't that fast I really mean they kinda slid down the steep parts, but on the flat parts they had to scoot themselves to get to the next drop off. There are days that the slide is so fast the kids have to have someone at the end to catch them, and we fear for Micah's life. It's 32 kinds of fun.

So when we were done at the park and decided it was time to hit the discount store, I programmed MALL into the GPS and we went on our merry way. We went over the river, through the woods, passed Grandmother's house and just kept on going. And going. And going. I think we saw the Energizer Bunny roaming the backroads at one point.

We turned off that road onto this one, then turned again, and drove through a junk yard. The cars were haphazardly parked on both sides of the road. Micah had sat quietly in the back of the car for the entire trip right up until the car graveyard. I have no idea where he thought he was, but boy-howdy was it exciting. He pointed and Ooohed and Aaahed and tapped Josh to be sure that he saw it, too.

Weird.

Take the boy to a slide down an entire hillside and he plays quietly. Drive through a junk yard and it's the best attraction since Disney.

Saturday Shots

The Pond Frog

White Hot

Chick Magnet
(Ignore the crappy photography. The camera and I weren't on speaking terms that day.)

Brothers

Sucker Stamped On My Forehead. Probably Even Across My Eyelids.

This has been a crazy-busy summer. We had two weeks of complete and utter freedom when school let out, and then things started happening. Between camps, missions trips, amusement park passes to use and the various day-to-day schedule, we have been running nearly non-stop. I didn't know whether I was genius for scheduling the kids to be so busy (less time for boredom and fighting!) or idiotic for taking up so much of their summer. I was thinking of this today as I ran in to drop the boys off at day camp and realized that if I haven't regretted it yet then it wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even Micah has adjusted. We get up in the morning, jump in the car, and the day begins.

Of course, while I'm in town, it only makes sense to stop at Starbucks, right? The road to Starbucks passes right by a Subway. It's also just around the corner from McDonald's. So every time I drive right by Subway on the way to Starbucks, he points and taps me on the shoulder from the back seat. Mind you, that boy would eat 24/7 and Subway is a favorite of his. I know without him telling me that he's game for a sub, but he feels the need to tell me anyway. Most times I say, "No, we're not eating at Subway." Sometimes I play stupid and say, "Yep! That's Subway!" He is never amused by that one.

The last two days, as we ran out the door for the day camp drop, Micah grabbed his Voice. Weird, since mostly we have to be in charge of carrying that for him and remembering it wherever we go. Yesterday I thought it odd, especially as he never used it the entire trip in and back. Today, however, I felt the need for a cuppa joe to get me going and headed to Starbucks.

OOooh, the excitement. And the babble from the back seat. And the Voice saying PIZZA.

Except there are no pizza joints open at 8:30 in the AM. I said, "We're not getting pizza."

So he tried again. SUBWAY. Well, that's clearly because there was no Starbucks button on the Voice. We programmed in McD, Wendy's, Burger King and Subway but did not add a 'Bucks logo. I pulled off the road, did a little reprogramming, and showed him his marvy new button so that he could order himself a Strawberries and Cream Frap. (I have introduced the boy to the wonders of frappuccino. Oye.) Except he wasn't feeling like a frap today and clearly wanted SUBWAY.

This is where things start to go South. When the boy actually uses his Voice to ask for something specific like that, it's hard for me not to reward his effort with whatever it is that he wants. Still, no Subway. I drove past it into Starbucks and ordered myself a Chai Tea Latte. (The Yum) I heard grumbling and grousing from the back seat. He was so peeved that he wouldn't even say hi to the baristas, who love him dearly. On our way back out of Starbucks, we had to pass Subway. He reiterated that he wanted SUBWAY for breakfast.

I complied. I'm a sucker.

So we're eating Subway's breakfast when he says MCDONALDS. Dude, you're eating! We're not going to yet another restaurant. MCDONALDS ICED TEA. Well, he got me there. There is no value in town like the $1 sweet tea they have going at the Greasy Arches. Plus, he asked again after he stepped off the sidewalk and scraped his leg all up.

What? You would have taken him to McD, too.

Talk About

Micah has been practicing his verbal skills a lot lately. I love it. He's been talking to everyone, and saying new words all the time. In fact, he's even started saying Mama. I've waited 7 years to hear my baby say Mama. Granted, it's more like UUUUMMHH but I'll take what I can get. It's a new word, and that makes me happy.

But his vocabulary still lacks a certain little something called volume control. When the boy talks, it's in his great big outdoor voice. He has two volumes; On and Off. When he's on, everyone hears him. When he plays with Woody, Woody feels the need to yell what he's saying to Buzz, who is just right there in Micah's other hand. When he's singing, it fills the entire van even though he's sitting in the way back. And when I'm trying to hold a conversation with Sam, we sometimes have to ask Micah to be quiet for a bit. This goes over as well as asking him to go to bed.

This is beginning to cause problems.

At Starbucks, Micah has decided that he'll order himself a  little something for the road as well. When I pull up to the drive-through order box and wind down my window (yes, we still have an old-fashioned handle in our 'Zuki), he'll wind his down as well. When I try to place my order, he has his head out the back window yelling his order as well. The poor barista simply cannot decipher what he wants, nor hear what I want over his volume. Problem. If Mama doesn't get her 'Bucks, the day could easily go downhill from there.

Many times I've been on the phone and had to rush from the room to try to get some quiet. Stepping into the laundry room generally doesn't help with the washer and dryer running, and if I lock myself in the restroom one of the kids will track me down and pound on the door, thereby giving my whereabouts away to the caller. Embarrasing. I've taken to stepping outside to get away from Mr. Loud Lungs, but inevitably the dogs are barking and I can't yell at them while on the phone. (My girls love me, they do.)

And then there was the day that I was on the phone, intently listening to the automated voice asking me to say which option I wanted. (Don't you love those new automated systems where you have to remember what to say instead of just holding up a finger of the corresponding number that you think might suit you best? By the time you get to the end of the options, you forget what it is you're to say and have to start over. Or is that just me?) Midway through the first speaking option Micah yelled in the next room. The automator picked up on it and quickly said, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand. Can you repeat that?" Micah did. This happened 3 times before I was able to escape out the French doors to the patio.

Speech is a beautiful thing, I'll be the first to admit. But there are gray clouds with every silver lining.

So How Cool is That?!

While we were serving the Lord in South(er) Texas, there was a young lady at the school also helping out.  She was quite the amazing young lady. She'll be a senior in college this fall, and spent the summer interning at a producing company in Nashville. (Her major is communications.) Turns out, one of the singer/songwriters that the company represented is Mark Schultz, Micah's very fave composer ever.

EVER.

When this young lady left the intern job to head to TX, she got a personal phone call from Mark himself to thank her for the work that she'd done. (I now consider her tight with Mr. Schultz.) So while she was telling us this fun information, one of the ladies in our group shared with her how much Micah loves Mark's music.

Seriously, you have no idea. Because of Mark, Micah has a keen and abiding interest in the piano, he pretends to strum the guitar (just like Mark!) and he uses anything in his hand as a microphone. This composer is single-handedly responsible for the boy's musical interest. We are appreciative, except at 6 in the AM when we hear the songs being broadcast through the house at decibels reserved for aircraft and warheads.

We have a CD/DVD set of a live concert and Micah has worn out 2 copies already. That is his go-to CD in the van, and he has memorized not only every song but the order in which they play. If we try to mix things up a bit and shuffle to keep from getting bored of the same old routine, he'll let us know exactly how unacceptable he finds that.

(On a side note here, I'm sure you're wondering how we know that Micah has memorized the songs since he can't sing. Good wonderment. Turns out, he carries a tune in a hummy sort of voice, complete with inflection and intonation. It makes up in volume what it lacks in actual words. And let me tell you, there is a huge lack of words if you know what I mean.)

So, anyhoo, this young lady that we met in South(er) Texas thought that Mr. Schultz should hear about his biggest fan, so she told him. And you know what Mr. Schultz did about that? He sent Micah an autographed calendar and a brand-new CD. Not only is that 15 kinds of awesome, that is God at work.

Tigers! And Elephants! Sadly, No Lions.

A while back, I received an invitation in the mail for Dream Night at the Zoo. While this sounded all kinds of fun, and included things like balloons and face painting and even behind the scenes tours, I had no idea why we were invited. It was an after-hours event, by invitation only. When I RSVP'd, I was asked who invited me. The only other identifying mark on the card was Children's Hospital, so I credited them. My guess was that they went through their Frequent Flyer Cards and randomly drew names. Turns out, I was wrong. Last week I received a letter from Parent To Parent reminding me that Dream Night at the Zoo was coming up, and don't forget to stop by their booth while I'm there. They had something special for each of the families that they invited.

Huh. Mystery solved.

So Dream Night at the Zoo was Sunday night. It was way more crowded than I thought it would be, but the fun was so worth the crowd. And the crowd? It consisted of all differently abled kids and their families. That is my favorite kind of crowd ever. As soon as we got off the escalator Micah spotted a fursuit in the shape of a polar bear, and remembering Disney, made a beeline for it immediately. We didn't have a fun Special Needs pass like we did at Disney, so the wait in line was enough to make the happy boy grumpy, but he eventually got his picture taken with a fursuit. And from there, the fun escalated.

Someone cut in line just as Micah ran for his turn at the polar bear. He holds a grudge, that boy does. He wouldn't smile for the picture, despite being very happy.

Micah's very favorite animal in the whole wide world is the elephant. The boy absolutely loves them. And to his delight, he got to pet one and have his picture taken with it. Disney doesn't even have real live elephants to pet. He was in little boy heaven.

After the elephants, we strolled through the aquarium, where for the first time EVER it wasn't crowded. Micah watched the penguins for a while, then became fascinated with the water overhead. That lasted right up until the water made him have to go potty, and then it was a mad rush to find a restroom.

There were Hawaiian hula dancers performing, and inviting the kids to join them. We walked into the tiger cage area and saw where they live behind the scenes. There were gorgeous chalk drawings on the pavement that the kids just loved. We even saw the artist at work near the polar bear. 

Even despite the fun we had getting there, it was an awesome evening. Thank you to everyone who had a hand in hosting such a wonderful event for some of the best kids ever.

I Was Caught In The Idiot Trap

There was that one day when I was at a local hardware store and a pond liner was sitting outside, propped against the building, in the clearance section. There was that other day when it was still sitting there and I asked the cashier how much they wanted for it. That second day was a day that I've lived to regret many times over. The preformed pond was $15, and one would have to be an idiot not to buy it. It turned out to be an Idiot Trap.

When I got That Thing last year, I was all excited about the prospect of putting a tiny little fish pond in just off the patio. The husband dug a large hole with the backhoe, I leveled, and filled, and placed, and then started with the waterfall. That went swimmingly right up until things went wrong. In a nutshell, I have no idea what I'm doing and should probably just stop with the landscape wannabe stuff before I hurt myself or some innocent bystander.

The longer version, shortened, is that the heavy rains we got floated the pond liner out of the hole after the rock falls were concreted into place, thereby making me chip out the falls by hand and start all over. I did. So did Mother Nature. I declared her the winner last year and sulked the remaining months while a large eyesore sat in the back yard.

This year I had a long winter to get over myself and started in on Waterfall Project #2 with enthusiasm. That went well right up until it didn't also. Despite using a liner and placing my rocks just so, there was a leak. I used one can of pond foam specifically for waterfall joints, three tubes of liquid nail, a few curse words (yes, I went there) and Waterfall Attempts #3, 4, 5 and 6, and we now have a working waterfall that flows nicely into a pond.

I'm not patting myself on the back, however. While the project is done (DONE, YOU HEAR ME, DONE!) it's not purty. I refer to it as my giant heap of plastic and glue. It's an eyesore of caulk and at this point there's little that can be done about it except for ripping it all out and starting over from scratch.

I added in some plants and bought fish, and it was about this time that we realized the waterfall project is still leaking. (ARRGGGHHHHH!!!!) It's a little leak, or maybe a large splash-over, but either way we're losing enough water that we have to add every other day. While this isn't the worst thing in the world, we worry about where that water is going, and what it's doing underneath the pond that we should know about. Is the pond going to float up out of the hole again when we least expect it? And by golly, I am NOT pulling that thing out and re-doing again this year. I won't even get started on the fish drama. And the algae problems. And the fact that Micah throws dogs, rocks and dirt clods into the pond daily.

I was caught in an Idiot Trap. Let this be a lesson to you. If you know nothing about a project, do not buy something if it's on clearance for a very, very good price.