Until I am inspired, please visit the link to the right (entitled “My Xanga” in the Blogroll — Is it wrong that I am the only blogger I read?!? ) for recent posts, consisting mostly of pictures, video, and audio, but also occasionally containing updates on the chil’ren and (hopefully) funny stories.

Please enjoy the posts set forth below, which consist of the archives from my original blog that I am excited to restore over time.

I took a sabbatical while I was prego with my third. It must have been the hormones.

I love you, Mom! I hope you are having a wonderful birfday!!! And I can’t wait to see you!!!

I truly thank God, and especially on this day, that he gave me you as my mother!

Thank you abundantly for willingly providing to me such a love that overlooked so many faults and mistakes, that this child never doubted she was cherished, despite her treasury of shortcomings and weaknesses.

Thank you immensely for the abundance of patience you rendered to this child, who was so lacking in common sense that she was still considered a blonde long after those shining golden locks of a tot began to dim.

Thank you for teaching me that a husband, for the benefit of his children, must love their mother ardently, which by God’s grace, this child and her children have indeed had the good fortune to receive.

Each year my gratitude for your mothering increases. As my life continues to change as a woman, wife and mother, I recognize more and more sacrifices that you cheerfully made for this child, who is still overwhelmed at the extent of such sacrifices. Each time I recognize something new, I am astonished and embarrassed that it is just now that I have eyes to see such things.

May God greatly bless you, uphold you and grant you long life!!!

The child lives in a house with 3 people. He knows we’re all here. He knows we can all see him. He knows we communicate with one another. He knows, if nothing else, from experience, that he cannot escape his parents. He knows we stop him when he disobeys. He knows we correct his actions when he disobeys. Yet he disobeys, with vigor, as if we will not know, as if we will not see, as if we will not act, as if there will be no consequences . . .

And that is me . . . though perhaps more sophisticated . . . I sin before my Creator, Lord God Almighty, as if I do not know He is here; as if I do not think He can see me; as if I do not know that I cannot escape God; as if I do not know that God thwarts wickedness; as if I do not know that God will, because I belong to him and bear his mark, correct my actions when I disobey. Yet I disobey, with vigor, as if God will not know, as if God will not see, as if God will not act, and as if there will be no consequences . . .

I am so child-like. I just wish it were in the way of which God speaks favorably. Matthew 18:1-6.

Is that really too much to ask?!?

For you reformed readers out there, I do have an argument as to why he’s reformed - even if he doesn’t realize it - which will be provided upon request.

Librarian in a Basket.

We were able to do most of the traditional things: hot coals grilling our beefy hamburgers and hot dogs; chocolate faces and fingers from homemade chocolate chip cookies;

The Boy Playing

swimming pools made of plastic; children spraying/splashing their parents; parents warning their children not to spray or splash them; lots of sunscreen; a little beer; and plenty of Louisiana heat and humidity about which to complain.

Sissy Playing

The Boy was just so happy to be outside AND playing in water. For those of you who are unaware, until recently, the only times The Boy really cried was when we would take him out of the bathtub or would bring him inside from playing outside. (However, much to our dismay, he has broadened his horizons and will cry about other things now.)

Sissy doing what she termed “The Whale”

Sissy had a fun time jumping and running and sliding in the pool. And if you hadn’t guessed, she is the culprit who takes great delight in attempting (and oftentimes successfully accomplishing) the saturation of her parents mama!

Sissy also developed The Whale, as illustrated herein. It was pretty funny! I am not convinced the pictures do it justice.

Hydrating

Dad also rescued a little baby bird from certain ill-fate, when he spotted her right before he ran over her with the lawn mower! We tried to nurse “Tweety-Bird Sissy” back to health. We prepared a comfy, cushy basket for her (which you can see behind The Boy as he’s drinking his juice), gave her fresh water (she liked to climb in the little bowl of water like a bath), and offered her a shot glass of flaxseed (that’s all we had!). Unfortunately, Tweety-Bird Sissy did not make it. But we think she was at least more comfortable in her last hours.

Resting

And due to popular demand, we watched Star Whores again!

Then . . . Well . . . As is the tradition on all the best of holidays, we took a nap.

To begin, let me emphasize the fact that the boy is persistent. He is continually testing to see if something is still forbidden (despite the fact that I have told him “no” on numerous previous occasions).

Further, he’s got this rebel attitude to go along with his actual rebellion. Let me illumine your minds with an example: As soon as The Boy is caught holding something he should not have, he looks at me, bright-eyed, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, drops it, then walks towards me, as if nothing has happened, and smiles at me with this huge, winsome, and, if I am being honest, irresistible grin on his shiny, ruddy little face. And of course, his beautiful blue eyes are twinkling at me the whole time!

He is such a stinker!

And soooo cute . . . that it is very hard to correct him!

In fact, when I was walking into the den the other day, he had gotten a hold of the remote control (one of those forbidden items he just can’t seem to resist). He was standing directly in front of the TV and was just pushing buttons like a mad man. When he realized that he was changing the channels, he started laughing hysterically – like a villain who thought he had just conquered the world. I must confess that I could not immediately correct him! It was all I could do to walk out of the room undetected so I could laugh, without encouraging this incorrigible little boy!

However, after regaining her composure, SuperMom returned to the den and restored world order - much to the shock and dismay of our favorite superhero-in-training.

I share with you the words I shared at his Memorial Service on June 1, 2000:

When Mom told me that Dad was sick, I had two concerns:

My dad’s soul; and
My dad’s pain and suffering.

Now it is time to be concerned with mourning the loss of my father.

I have suffered one of the greatest losses by losing Tom. As most know, when he and Mom married, I was five years old. I was the child of another man. But this made absolutely no difference to Tom. He adopted me into his family. I do not mean by the laws of any state, but rather, he took me as his own child. He loved me, and then loving me, he provided for me, gave me security, encouraged me, disciplined me, and all the other things a father does for his child. Being his, he taught me to have his attributes, such as appropriate respect for others, working diligently for your wages, being a good steward of what is yours, providing for your loved ones, and helping those around you. And in doing all these things, he taught me to be prepared, knowledgeable and smart.

There are thousands of acts of kindness, small and great, that he bestowed upon me freely and with great love, but the one act that shows that I was truly his daughter was when my dad, the most important man in my life, gave my hand in marriage to my husband, thereby providing his blessing to my husband’s becoming the one to care for me for all the days thereafter – to do the things that only Dad once did for me.

I thank my Heavenly Father for providing to me my earthly father, for I take great comfort and encouragement knowing that if my dad, a sinner, loved me as much as he did, and gave to me all that he could – Me! A sinner and a child who had no right to make any claims to his love – how much more God the Father may provide for us an everlasting hope of glory, by the forgiveness of our sins, through the sacrifice of his son, Jesus Christ, our Dear Lord and Savior. Amen.

Well, when she was a young one, this problem with proper pronunciation provided much mirth for her parents. As she has gotten older, her parents have had to tell her about several little snafus, because, not unexpectedly, she has no independent recollection of the “fuff fee ufed to fay.”

While we were on buh-cay-shun, i.e. “vacation,” we discovered she had never heard one of our favorite stories that her parents shared with us. So her mom, thinking that she was now mature enough to understand the story, told it again. I will try to do it justice:

Once upon a time there was a cute and sweet little girl, hereinabove mentioned with the aforesaid impediment, who was eating supper with her family at the Solid Rock Café (yeah, cute name, huh? Her father was in seminary). Well, she, as most children do, loved to talk about what was most important to her at the time: some nursing kittens. She had even given them a cute little name. During the meal, the little girl began her story about the kittens with her pet name: “The Sucking Ones . . .” And immediately her parents turned brilliant red as all the seminary students and their families turned aghast to look at our friends.

Our friends’ daughter turned a similar shade and laughed heartily as she realized what she had said. We were all laughing as hard as our stomachs would allow, when we heard the eight year-old daughter, softly, but clearly, pose a poignant question: “The *@#%ing ones?!? What’s that?”

Needless to say, we laughed harder, though discreetly, as her mom told her calmly not to say that anymore.

*@#%ing phonics!