Here's to your Health

True confessions: I feed my children McDonald's occasionally.

Please allow me to emphasize occasionally because, well, it is only on occasion! I never can be too sure who may be reading this mortified by this truth . . . Dan, and I don't want my halo to fall too far from my head

I digress. So I was pulling into the drive-thru at McDonald's today when I heard expressions of horror from the backseat. "Mom, McDonald's is very bad for you. Can we have something else for lunch?"

I found myself in the horns of a dilemma. I was hungry and a Happy Meal was sounding pretty darn good.

What an excellent opportunity to teach them the beauty of all things in moderation.

Peter didn't find too much comfort in that.

He wanted to call his Grandma to see if it would be okay to have just a little bit.

I refused him the cell phone and he devoured his 6 nuggets in five minutes.

Ohh, and apparently according to Pete, Chick-Fil-A has too much salt in their batter and fries.

Note to self.

Here's to his future wife.

The Man of the House

Yesterday, Anna offered her help making the bed, and helpful she was. I offered surprised praise with how truly helpful she was.
Me: "Anna, thanks so much! That is really helpful of you. When Grandma and Wolfie come tonight we can tell them that you helped Mommy make their bed."
Peter: "Mom, what about me? What can we tell them that I did?"
Me: "Well, when we're done making the bed. I'm gonna go pick a bouquet of flowers to put in their room. You can tell them you helped me pick the flowers.
Peter: "Well, actually, I think I'll just tell them I was the man of the house."
Alrighty then... thanks for the help, Pete!

Earth's Crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes . . .

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And I thought I had troubles. . .

Today I started to get a little overwhelmed with the amount left to. . . prepare for a visit from Grandma and Wolfie, pack for a trip to Charleston, and clean for Bible study tonight.
But just as I started to get swept under from another tide of laundry left to do, fold and put away. Anna shifted everything into perspective for me.
She mentioned to me that her nose hurt.
I asked her why, half listening while rapidly stuffing laundry into the wash .
"An alligator bit me."
Okay . . . and there you have it . . .
It could be worse.
(She has quite an imagination, that girl;))

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

I have a mother. . .
She is my hero.
She's a model of strong faith, hospitality, and a healthy marriage.
She's wise, discerning and loves a good laugh.
Her time is a gift and she generously shares it with others.
Her friends know they can call her no matter the time.
She opens her home weekly for meetings, Bible studies, and a bed and breakfast for whomever.
She listens, counsels, and says hard things sometimes.
She doesn't forget the special days.
She sends me Harry and David for Mother's Day, and humongous bouquets flowers for all other special holidays when Dan's not here. (Flowers and Harry and David are our love language).
She gets me, like no one else.
She's brilliant. Her husband knows she's wise and treasures her for it.
She knows more about the history and the political arena than most men. She uses her voice and her wit to empower others to use theirs and vote.
She loves her coffee and devotions in the morning with my dad, and a glass of wine in the evening as she recaps the day with that same wonderful man.
They are the best of friends, and the best parents ever.
I love you, Mom.
Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Birthday, Anna!

Dear Anna,
Today I watched you go outside to play. Time stood still for just a second as I put down what I was doing just to watch you in wonderment: watch you slide down the slide, swing on your belly and gallop across the yard in your rain boots. I wanted desperately to capture that moment in time; you are growing so fast. You were completely content playing alone in your made up world. You are such an inspiration to me in your element, not easily daunted or pressured to please, unphased by much, and determined to succeed.

You are a lot like your daddy. You are fearless and independent, spunky and strong, tough and sweet...so sweet. You love horses, your bear, your rain boots, your sunglasses, your brother, your sister, Dora, and your thumb. You love to sing, imagine, and climb. Your favorite song is "Once upon a dream" from "Sleeping Beauty" and you sing it all the time. We call you "Tink" because you are precious with just a pinch of a mischievous side.

You are our little girl; you are three today, and we love you so much!
Happy Birthday, Anna. May God use all of these precious qualities for His glory. I already stand in wonder!
Love,
Your Momma

Fudruckers

Tink and Little Man in the Fudruckers' arcade last night:


In one corner, we have Tink scaling the wall of the candy machine. Given enough time I am quite certain that she could find a way inside it.


In the other corner, we have our Little Man, playing none other than the shootout game. The game itself is not important. What he likes is the gun. He's aiming it around the room getting all the unseen bad guys, and saving the damsels in distress.

Entrepreneurs

In the spirit of entrepreneurship, Peter decided he'd like to sell lemonade during our garage sale this weekend. It wasn't much of a money maker. He was too busy giving his lemonade away. Attaboy!!! We'll let the Handsome Genius bring home the bacon for now, and in the meantime we'll look for a skill that involves not selling something for Pete. Besides, his interest in sales lasted for only as long as it took he and his friends to get a glass of lemonade. Tink and her best friend took their places at the stand after that.

Another satisfied customer.

The Weekend

You want to know ONE of the things I love about having the Handsome Genius home on the weekends... at 7:05 am when the Little Man enters our room to report his change in status from asleep to awake, he skips my side of the bed and heads straight to Dad's
4 year old: "Hey Dad, what about those buttermilk pancakes?"
Me: "Hey Dad, what about some coffee."
We do love him for much more than just pancakes and coffee, but these two items do contribute to his sainthood status.
Ahhhhh yes!!