Floods

Like all good daughters, I have subscribed a number of MY personal issues onto my mother. Because of my mom, I (fill in the blank)______________. Many of you probably can relate and would admit that the mother/daughter relationship thing can be hard and complicated. Maybe that's why the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, choose to bless me with three sons! To demonstrate, here is but a small list of the things I have blamed my mother for in the past:

I lack athletic prowess because my mom didn't stress the value of sports.

I don't know how to swim because my mom never took me for swimming lessons as a small child.

I am bad with money because my mom didn't teach me the value of a dollar.

And the list goes on and on...I will stop there as to not further embarrass myself. 

But yesterday, I found myself humbled and blessed. Something that has long been on my "list" needs to be removed.

For decades now I have told people that there are not a lot of photos of me when I was a child. If you and I were in a random conversation and you happened to mention something about pictures of yourself as a kid, I would probably have sighed heavily and told you of my picture woes. (Strum sappy violin music). When I was a girl growing up in Wheaton, Illinois, we had a flood in our basement and it destroyed, among other things, boxes and boxes of pictures. I recall the soggy, blobby paper mess and the dismay I felt in my young girl's heart as I saw my memories destroyed. Who was to blame for the flood? Well, it honestly didn't matter, I knew the culprit. I suspect you can guess my prime suspect. Yes, it was my mom. 

This week, following a meeting with my favorite organization consultant, I began the necessary and tedious task of de-cluttering my home. In various closets, possibly in every room there is a box or basket full of pictures. This week I have begun to weed through them, tossing out the bad photos, hanging on to the good ones. Geralin has a theory about pictures which I now claim as my own. She says, "if I don't look good in the picture, then it goes." Geralin's my girl, one of my fab five, as my youngest OS would jest.

I am amazed at the scads of pictures we have EVERYWHERE! The stockpiles of pictures blurred my head as I tossed one photo after another into the trash. It has been freeing to re-claim lost closet space and re-discover sweet pictures of days gone by.

And last night, I believe the Lord healed a part of me because in the frenzied mass of photos, I am finding a lot of pictures of myself. There are many of me as a little girl on random Picture Days, a couple of me walking up the sidewalk for my first day of kindergarten, a few particularly unflattering pics of me blowing out candles on a birthday cake as a pimply teen, you get the idea. 

Oh, dear friends, I have found me. 

My past was not completely destroyed in that basement. There were salvages of my life still preserved, in greater proportion than I ever realized.

And so in the tv room, after everyone was in bed, I held picture after picture of myself in my hands and drifted back to those moments. They are not gone. They are preserved both in these pictures but also within me. Sorting through all the clutter and getting rid of the unnecessary, buried among it all, was Cindy. She hadn't dissolved away into nothingness. As I make room in my home, I am finding new places in my spirit as well.

I'm learning that I can no longer blame my mom for a lot of things I have done in the past. Honestly, I have been aware of that for about 12 years now since asking Jesus into my heart and looking squarely at my own contrition and culpability. But how immature I have been to blame an act of God like a flood on my poor mother. I mean really. For goodness sake, she had no control over it no matter how much power I think a mama can wield. 

I hesitate for a moment and wonder to myself. Actually, a jab of anxiety wafts over me...what will my OS blame me for? What will be something that they say I should have done differently? Will we just laugh about it or will I carry around grief and guilt. Ew. What salvages of their own shortcomings will they try and attribute to me, their mom who, like my own, is trying the very best she can to make a sweet and wonderful life for them?

That is not something that I can answer. Today I'd rather focus on what I can claim victory over. I found me. I, or rather, remnants of me, weren't swept away in an unpredictable flood.  And if all the pictures were gone, I now admit it wouldn't have been my mom's fault in the first place. 

When we went out for a late-night run to the grocery store to buy dish washing detergent, (doesn't that sound like a fun outing!?), I decided to release this guilt from her once and for all. She has been staying at my house recovering from surgery on her wrist and a bout of pneumonia. The healing process has been painful and discouraging but last night, I believe both of us got healed in a way we weren't expecting. We got in the car and I couldn't wait to tell her my revelation. It wasn't a gushy moment but I felt a weight off my heart and I noticed she had a look of contentment on her face and it wasn't because we were going to buy dish washing detergent at 10pm! 

 

Guilt and blame, in all of its forms, are as destructive as a flood. Forgiveness and grace, on the other hand, fellow imperfect mamas of the world, well that can wash over a multitude of sins. 

Hallelujah, grace like rain, washing down on me...

I love this song...

Hmmm...

Pajama Day for the Record Books

The suspense has got to be killing you...so far I have shared that Spirit Week in our family is a BIG deal. We take Spirit Week seriously and bring it, if you know what I mean. But what I haven't shared is the final result. 

After all the exhaustive effort, the travail, at last Pajama Day was at hand.

I had finished my middle OS's pajama pants around 11:30pm Sunday night, the costume was ready. 

Before I reveal the actual outfit, you need some background. We have a standing joke in my family that I have yet to grow tired of saying. True, everybody in my family is tired of hearing this joke but that's beside the point. Here it is...every time my sons eat something healthy, especially if it is green, I tell them something marvelous is going to happen to them in the near future. A very special, VERY manly thing that will leave them eternally gratefully for having me as their mom and for having eaten that healthy, green thing. 

I tell them that thanks to eating that healthy thing and having me as their mom, they are going to grow chest hair. And not just little tufts here and there, my friends. Not just a random hair on a barren land, oh no, we're talking prolific amounts of chest hair, a veritable yet tasteful explosion of virulity and testorone will arrive shortly. 

Essentially I say the same thing each time but I have a knack for making it sound fresh and new. For example, Ike will be sitting at the dinner table, eating/being forced to eat some salad and I will affirm him by saying, "Isaac, that salad is going to grow a centimeter of hair on your chest one day!" Or recently when they tried/were forced to try brussels sprouts, I encouraged my youngest OS after he ate/choked one of them down with these supportive words, "Oh, Ike just you wait, Man.  You are so gonna grow some chest hair!"  

How does that relate to Pajama Day?...take a look at these pictures, dear friends...

To the untrained eye, this might look like real chest hair. That would be wrong. On one of my million trips to the fabric store, I purchased some fake fur. My expert (HA!) seamstress skills allowed me to sew some "chest hair" onto a ripped t-shirt. I wanted to sew "back hair" also but felt close to exhaustion.  

Aaron played the part to the hilt, from the beginning of the morning at home till the end of school that afternoon, my boy scratched his newly sprouted chest hair to the disgust of all the freshman girls and possibly some of the teachers. I don't think it is humanly possible to have more fun with chest hair, real or otherwise, than we had that day!

Unless something new develops, I'll soon blog about the new painting in our house from a talented and aspiring artist, as well as Mr. Grumpy Box of Crayons and The Wiggles AND a certain Cadet of the Quarter I know quite well and the new SNUGLET model who might one day seriously be strutting the cat walk! ;) Stay tuned and come back soon, love to hear from you if you have enjoyed any of these posts. 

Is your room clean?

I try to keep an orderly home. Some days it is not easy and it seems like we are all slobs. And then there are bathrooms...If you have read my blog profile you know that one of my goals in life is to raise three young men who love and live for Jesus AND put the toilet seat down after using it. A girl's gotta aim high while hoping her men just aim, right? We have our good days and our bad days and our home will probably never pass the white glove test.

That is until our oldest OS began attending West Point. He will be home for Thanksgiving and I am so excited! After 18 years, our boy has finally learned to clean his room! And when I say clean, I mean, spotlessly clean!

A few weeks ago, he had a SAMI. For you non-West Point-y types, that means a super duper room inspection. I am often amused at the contrasts between having a child attending a 

military academy versus traditional college and this is a major difference. Our son's room was going to be inspected and not just spot-checked for cleanliness. Oh no, my friends, every last inch, dare I say, centimeter of his room was going to be examined.

So in uncharacteristic fashion, our son and his roommate (the other one was away visiting family), spent the entire night cleaning their room. Top to bottom. Inside and out. Not a cranny of that room was left with a speck of dirt. A dust bunny didn't have a chance, these young soldiers killed it instantly. My jaw nearly hit the floor when Nate told us that they had even cleaned in between the door hinges! Who would have thunk? 

This is what his room looked like prior to the SAMI...

And this was after the whirlwind cleaning 

spree...

I was looking forward to my boy being home for

Turkey Day but now, I am overjoyed at this new found skill and what this will mean for our family. What mother wouldn't long to put her arms around her baby boy and then give him a long list of chores he now can expertly complete? Who cares about him knowing how to throw a grenade or march in procession, at long last, I have a son who can clean! God is good! 

The Friday after Thanksgiving, while many in our country are shopping (hopefully for our economy), my husband and two other OS will be attending a mandatory cleaning class and I expect there to be some big improvements in the house as a result. 

Why just take a look at these pics. My OS slept on the floor the night before his SAMI. He went to bed at 5 in the morning and got one hour of sleep. That boy even starched his sheets! His roommate's bed was so tight, he received compliments from fellow cadets. 

If this whole West Point thing doesn't work out, I'm now totally confident our son could easily get a job at the nearest Marriott Hotel. They'd snatch that boy up in a jiffy!

I'm so glad my boy is learning now things! Can't wait to see those skills put into action. Dust bunnies, you've got until Thanksgiving, then watch out, Nate's coming back with vengeance!

And the winner is...

Thanks for all your suggestions about blog posts. I am particularly impressed with apeasofmylife and thehokeypokeyplace's challenge to combine all three of my potential posts into one. I appreciate your confidence in my ability but I'm not sure I've got it in me. 

 

So I hope you can settle with my post being about...

BRAINS (I will do posts about boxing and beds in the near future, promise!) 

Just as I was finishing up my time with a broken foot, Ike decided to tear some ligaments in his foot! Can you believe it??? Last Sunday, I went to church with my orthopedic boot and Isaac on crutches. People are beginning to get worried about us! With limited mobility and a two week fall break in front of us, I had to do something with my son since running and basketball were out of the question. That's when I came up with a brilliant idea...let's make a brain! 

With our oldest OS away at West Point, we could use an extra brain around the house. He's like the smartest guy in our family and we have been feeling his intellectual absence. Maybe your family thinks they are super duper intelligent, we know we're not. No sense in trying to pretend. 

You might think brains are made of grey matter but that would be wrong, my friends (said in a John McCain-y kind of voice;).  Bet you didn't know that brains are actually made of corn starch, gelatin, water and food coloring! And incidentally, they smell kind of icky too.

For Christmas last year we bought our OS a Disgusting Anatomy Brain kit with Bonus Eyeball Kit! It's been sitting in the closet ever since then and so on a beautiful autumn day, we began to make our disgusting brain. 

Isaac stirred the gelatin into the water then the corn starch and in no time at all, our brain was placed into the mold to congeal overnight. Amidst the fresh produce and condiments, there sat our brand new brain, chilling out.

And it was ready just in time, too. As this video clip demonstrates, suddenly we found a family member in DIRE need of a brain. That sometimes happens with 14 year olds...

We sure were glad to have that slimy brain ready for delivery! We performed a minor lobotomy and thank goodness, Aaron has a mind of his own!

(This is part one)

We still have enough stuff to make at least one more brain, give us 24 hours and we can have one ready for you too!  

Mothering is fun! 

Soldier Boy

 

When Nathan turned the corner in the Oath Ceremony, I think I saw a little glimmer of a smile. I think he saw us running after him trying to get a few more pictures. This is a picture of Nate marching with his Company. Doesn't he look so handsome? It was God's favor that we were able to see our son fairly easily.This was like the most important parade I've ever seen in my whole entire life and trust me, I was desperate to see my child! We were already warned we might not be able to spot him and it was recommended to just simply "adopt" a cadet and start taking pictures. New cadet parents then post them on a website and you might just get a picture of your son/daughter. But oh, what joy it brought to my soul when I saw New Cadet Nathan! He was still hanging in there, praise the Lord! His newly shaved head and BCG's (otherwise known as glasses), his crisp uniform, my son saluted and seemed to be following orders after a blurry day of instruction. No wavering or hesitation, just a steely eyed forward gaze. There were other people shouting things to their cadets, in particular friends and siblings, as for me, I was simply speechless as the tears poured down my face. Mark yelled something like, "Go, Baby!" but I knew Nathan wouldn't like it if his mom said something cutesy or strange. I have gotten in trouble numerous times for spontaneous outbursts and I don't think I want to mess around with a soldier! HA! We were absolutely exhausted so I can only imagine how he felt. While waiting for the ceremony, I finished my letter to him and got it in the mail. I have to write him everyday, that is my promise to myself.

The ride back on our nearly final leg of the journey was quiet. Sniffles could be heard from the back and I had to comfort my two remaining olive shoots who were missing their big brother. We all just want to get back home and resume a new level of normalcy and wear all our newly acquired West Point clothes. I will be wearing something West Point every time I go to the grocery store, Target, anywhere there is a chance someone will see me and realize, "Hey, wait a second, that's not just an ordinary woman, that's a mama of a soldier in the aisle, wow she's a West Point mom!" HA! One door is shut, another one is opening, we're all adjusting to this new season of life...if you want to read more about this, click here. Jon Scott, anchor on FOX "News Live" shares his experiences when he dropped his own son off at West Point last year. It is really interesting.

Awkward carrot

My DH and I do not have a green thumb. We are not great landscapers and do not have an eye for flora and fauna. A while back, we decided we would try a garden. I love fresh veggies and would take a fresh, warm tomato over a piece of chocolate any day. My dad was an avid gardener and I guess I thought it might be in the "genes" as they say.

Well over the weekend, Mark was weeding the "garden" when he traipsed on into the house with this...probably the funniest looking vegetable I've ever seen!

There is a spiritual connection to all this. The Bible speaks about bearing fruit, fruit that will last (John 15:16). So let me ask you a personal question, what kind of fruit are you growing? According to the seed packet, we should have enjoyed this carrot and all its orange friends a LONG time ago. Our carrot has taken a major time to grow, to say the least. How are you maturing in the Lord? Can you see growth or development or are you in a weird kind of place, stuck in a rut for years, much like our carrot? 

Do you know how long it took for this beauty to grow? Three years. That's right, for three years we have been waiting for something to sprout from our pitiful little garden. Take a look at the picture, I think it must be a boy carrot. How perfect that a mom of three SONS would receive such bounty! We have had a lot of laughs with its most awkward shape and at the risk of impropriety, I had to share it. But I pray you find yourself bearing fruit of a most abundant variety from your verdant figurative garden of faith and if you're so inclined, from the literal garden the one you might be growing this season. 

Moving into Manhood

Today is St. Patrick's Day and we chose to honor the day in a momentous fashion. Aaron shaved for the first time! Our 13 1/2 year old OS has completed another rite of passage into manhood. Ike and I are now the only ones who do not shave our faces and I'm hoping we can keep it that way for a long time. There are absolutely no plans for me to shave my face, btw! WHEW!

My husband gave Aaron a few pointers as he navigated around his face. Side by side in the freshly tidied bathroom, Mark patiently instructed his son. The peach fuzz has been so much fun to see sprouting but it was time for Aaron to become a clean-shaven teen.

 These are the precious moments that so many boys never experience because their dad isn't home or available or interested. Proverbs 22:6 says "train a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it." A father's influence is important in every way - spiritually, emotionally, physically. I know the Bible isn't talking about shaving but these bonding moments will shape our son's masculinity and hopefully he will pass wisdom and character onto his children one day. This is just one simple way my husband is training his boys. We bought Aaron his very own can of shaving cream and a razor and made a big deal about this special experience. One day Aaron will tire of this task but right now, Aaron declared he's going to shave every day! 

Nate is headed to a short mountain trip with four of his buddies tomorrow morning. They are going by themselves, no parental supervision. Yeah, I'm a little nervous. Ike has a few little pimples on his face and some suspicious emotional outbursts. 

My boys are growing up but I like most of the bittersweet changes.  

Black Wig Productions, Epic Battle 2

This is what three boys who shall remain nameless decided to do one night while their parents who shall remain nameless enjoyed a dinner with friends. They were supposed to sort the laundry and put it all away - that didn't happen and these three unsupervised boys found something very unusual to do to wile away the time. Don't even try to follow the plot, just enjoy the absolute absurdity of this "production." I'll let their "parents" know what you think (wink, wink).

Guitar Jam Session

"The babies are coming! The babies are coming!" I shouted as my two adorable nephews and sister began walking up the driveway. Mom had to go to the doctor again today and Denise and her guys decided to stop by while waiting to pick her up. I love seeing these two guys, I could write a blog about being an aunt almost as easily as I write about being a mom. A few moments with Jon and Josiah and life is good, really good. 

Five boys ranging in age from 5 months to almost 18 years old scurried around the house. Jon made himself comfortable and walked upstairs. There he huddled himself into Nathan's room and felt like a real big boy in his Thomas the Train pajamas. Listening to the sounds emanating from there, I opened the door and saw Nathan treating his 2 year old cousin to an impromptu jam session complete with singing. Soon Aaron was joining in and Jon sneaked in a few strums on Nate's guitar. Josiah was downstairs nursing having his own special moments ;) 

Btw, as a dutiful mom, I want to mention that my son does sleep with sheets on his bed. It was Monday and it is my washing sheets day. 

I'm trying to take care of my family like that cuz I'm not down with bed bugs and dust mites, ya know what I mean? Just didn't want anyone thinking my boy was severely neglected. Oh, and one more thing, the bottles on his shelves, those are Izze drinks, a natural fruit juice made with a splash of sprinkling water. Completely healthy, non-alcoholic, refreshing and innocent. Ok, now go and enjoy the video clip knowing those little caveats. (I'm having trouble loading the video, technical difficulties, check back again, folks!)

Being a mom of three sons is a blessing, being the aunt of two adorable boys makes my heart sing!

It's a Guy Thing

I don't get it and I guess I never will. While driving to see family in South Carolina, Nate spotted a sign to a store I would have easily overlooked. "Dad, can we go there?" he inquired and all the guy heads perked up with the mere mention of the store Nathan wanted to visit -  Delk's Army-Navy Surplus - no pretty store window dressing, no eye-catching fashions or thumping music - just a Army issue green sign which read Military Supplies.It's a guy thing I guess because I didn't have the same reaction as my DH and OS did as we parked our van. My boys and husband practically skipped into the store, (ok, it's true, you NEVER, EVER skip into a military store but it sounds funny!). This was probably one of the few stores I have ever entered in my life where I was almost completely sure I wasn't going to spend any money. 

Everything you might ever possibly need regarding the military was there. We're talking K-Rations, camo pants, gas masks, resin replica assault rifles which my three OS really wanted, hand grenade candle holders (they wouldn't match my decor) and more. Parachute jackets, ammo boxes, metal helmets, you get the picture.  

The entire store was basically covered in brown, green or black.  I couldn't find one pretty thing in the building!  This was really man's land. Only upon exhaustive searching, did I discover one teeny spot of thin, pink piece of nylon rope which made me feel only a little bit better. 

My husband and sons were fascinated, I was ready to go. 

We walked down the aisles and when we spotted the plastic military shields for $25, it was almost more than they could handle. I guess the girl equivalent would be like going to Archivers, a scrapbooking store.

I felt like quite a good wife and mom venturing into a place like that but I know that they have gone into candle stores and boutiques humoring me. 

In a way, I actually found Delks Army-Navy Surplus store quite interesting but not so much so that I have to go back anytime soon. 

As I looked at the sign, I noticed a typo. Can you spot it? 

Too bad I didn't have a machine gun to shoot in an apostrophe. At least now I know where I can get one!