Simply Stated Stacie

For Maria...

2011-08-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

This story has been rolling around in my head for a couple of years since Maria found a lady bug and had to let her go. God brought this incident to mind when Maria asked me if the reason her birthmom didn't keep her was because she wasn't good enough. It seemed to help Maria understand a little better.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Maria delighted to herself. She could hardly contain her excitement as she leaned down to get a closer look at the tiny creature that had gingerly landed on her sleeve. The insect’s shiny wings, tucked closely to its body, formed a near perfect circle. It looked as if a single red polka dot had been meticulously painted to complement the bright pink of Maria’s favorite sweatshirt. Undoubtedly, this was the most beautiful ladybug that Maria had ever seen.

Maria gently nudged the ladybug with the tip of her polish-chipped fingernail. Quietly she cooed soothing words to the ladybug, encouraging her to begin a slow and timid ascent onto Maria’s hand. Thoughtfully, Maria brought the ladybug level with her own sparkling, dark eyes. Maria’s love for the ladybug was at once instantaneous and boundless. She vowed to herself and to her ladybug that she would do everything possible to keep her safe and happy. Maria was overwhelmed that the blessing of caring for one of God’s exquisite creations had been unexpectedly granted to her.

“First,” Maria thought to herself, “I need to make her a comfortable place to live.” With the ladybug tucked snuggly in the palm of her loosely closed hand, Maria worked quickly to fashion a home for her ladybug. She decided that a discarded purple and green striped, paper cup would make an ideal home. With great care, Maria painstakingly filled the recycled cup with an array of grass, leaves, and one smooth stick. “Perfect!” Maria exclaimed.

Satisfied with the ladybugs new home, Maria placed the tiny bug delicately inside of the paper cup. As one final precaution, Maria placed a thin piece of plastic wrap, pierced with tiny air holes, over the cup to make sure that precious contents would not escape from the safe confines of the newly crafted home. Maria hoped with all of her heart that her ladybug would be happy and content with her accommodations.

Maria watched with anticipation as her ladybug moved deftly about the leaves and blades of grass, exploring her new surroundings. The ladybug made quick work of climbing the stick to the very top of the paper cup. “She wants to get a better look at me!” Maria thought to herself. Grinning from ear to ear with a deep sense of accomplishment, Maria carried the ladybug in the cup to her own bedroom for extra safe keeping.

Next, Maria realized that she would need to find food for her ladybug. But what did a ladybug eat? She surely didn’t know. Maria decided to ask her Momma. After all, mommas know everything. “Momma” she inquired, “what does a ladybug eat?” Just as Maria had expected, Momma did know the answer. Her response, however, left Maria startled and feeling a little queasy inside. Aphids. They eat other bugs! How was a little girl such as herself going to find aphids to feed to her ladybug? The thought concerned her at first, but she quickly dismissed her worry, convinced that she could figure out how to give her ladybug what she needed.

From that very first meeting, Maria and her ladybug were inseparable. Maria carried her ladybug wherever she went, proudly showing her off to anyone who would stop to look. Maria delighted at each “oh” and “ah” as friends and family congratulated her on having a ladybug of her very own. The joy Maria felt inside was like none she had ever experienced before. She thought her heart might just burst with pride.

Maria did her best to fulfill her vow of taking care of her ladybug. Daily she provided her ladybug with a fresh supply of carefully chosen, green leaves and newly clipped grass. Maria desperately hoped that each new crop of vegetation might provide the aphids that her ladybug could eat. When none appeared, Maria thought that perhaps her ladybug might enjoy eating some of her own culinary favorites. From mangos and fried chicken, to strawberries and Momma’s spicy enchiladas, Maria persevered in offering her ladybug the very best she had. But nothing Maria could provide was what her ladybug needed.

Despite her concerns over what to feed her ladybug, Maria delighted in the joy of spending time with her. She never grew tired of watching her ladybug through the plastic wrap ceiling of the paper cup. For the first few days, Maria would often find her ladybug perched on the twig, waiting expectantly near the cup’s tattered rim.

Maria couldn’t, however, quiet the small voice inside of her, whispering unwanted doubts. Would she really be able to provide all that a ladybug needed? Adding to her doubts was the realization that with each day that she kept her ladybug in the paper cup, the less and less the tiny creature moved about. Her ladybug no longer seemed to have enough energy to climb the stick to its tippy-top.

Confused and concerned about what to do for her ladybug, Maria once again sought advice from Momma. “Loving something with all your heart doesn’t always mean that you are able to take care of it.” Momma counseled. The words were hard to hear and stung with a truth that Maria did not want to accept.

Although Maria loved her ladybug with all of her heart and had given her best to care for her, perhaps that just wasn’t enough. Maybe the only way to ensure that her ladybug would survive and flourish, was for Maria to let her go. Tears began forming shallow pools in Maria’s eyes which quickly over flowed, rolling down her mocha colored cheeks. She knew what she had to do. The small voice inside of her confirming the difficult choice she was about to make.

Energized by a selfless resolve, Maria carried her ladybug outside. Determined not to give in to her sadness, Maria stripped away the plastic wrap from the top of the paper cup. Reminiscent of the day when they first found each other, Maria placed her finger in front of her ladybug, nudging her to climb on. Maria surprised herself by giggling when her ladybug’s six tiny legs tickled her finger. Quickly, as not to change her mind, Maria blew a parting kiss to her ladybug.
As if lifted by the breath from Maria’s final kiss, her ladybug opened its crimson wings and took flight for the first time. Maria watched through tears of grief as the ladybug flew farther away from her, but towards a future destined by God. As her ladybug vanished into the distance, Maria offered one final encouragement to her beloved. Her parting words came from a heart forever changed by loving completely and sacrificing much.

“Fly away home,” she whispered. Then slowly turned and walked away.

Week of Weird

2009-04-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

My findings while doing laundry on Sunday should have been an indication of just how bizarre some of this week's events would be.

After washing several pens, packs of bubble gum and flash drives (among other things that ruin clothing), I've learned to check pockets before throwing clothes into the washing machine. While searching through a pair of pants that Zak wore on his weekend camping trip I found two bullets. A cause for concern? Possibly. Weird? Not until Zak told me what they were for. They're apparently used as ear plugs when firing rifles. I kicked into mom mode and was preparing the standard "never, ever stick anything in your ears" lecture but then thought better of it. It sounded like a guy thing that I wouldn't understand.

With the bullets properly disposed of I then went to put the clean clothes in Zak's room. I was stopped short by the bag of Poise bladder control pads on his bedroom floor. This was just downright disturbing. I couldn't help but ask for an explanation on this one. Apparently they were used for some kind of prank. Whatever.

Sunday was followed by a memorable day at work. I should explain that I work in an outpatient mental health clinic and I try to maintain a high level of compassion for our patients suffering from mental illnesses and personality disorders. Abnormal behavior is often the norm in our office. There's abnormal and then there's just plain bizarre. Like Monday morning when an incoming patient informed us that another patient was pulling up the azaleas in our gardens and putting them in the trunk of her car. Our doctor went out to confront the patient who thought this was perfectly acceptable. Apparently she needed some plants for her garden.

Then later that day another patient became so enraged and distraught over having missed her appointment she began hitting herself in the head with a clipboard and spewing profanities left and right. The end of the day could not come quickly enough.

Finally today. Caroline called to inform me that something dead was in Zak's car and it smelled awful. Upon further investigation Zak, his friend, and Alex found and removed a rather large cat from behind the engine block of the jeep. They disposed of the cat the only way my boys know how. I don't want to be graphic so I'll just type the words gasoline and fire pit. You get the picture. And I've spent the better part of the evening trying to explain to Maria where the body of this cat went.

To top off the evening we think Caroline's guinea pig may have lost one of her front teeth and is having trouble eating. I do not want to find out what the cost is for guinea pig dentistry.

Simply stated: Truth really is stranger than fiction.

And the survey says...

2009-03-09T17:29:00.000-07:00

Is saw this post on a few of the blogs that I follow and decided to try it for myself. Seeing yourself through the eyes of your child can sometimes be dangerous but I think I came out fairly unscathed.

This is mommy according to Maria...in her words.

1. What is something mom always says to you? I love you

2. What makes mom happy? That I don't lie to you.

3. What makes mom sad? When I say bad things to her.

4. How does your mom make you laugh? By tickling me.

5. What was your mom like as a child? A little girl.

6. How old is your mom? Umm, Umm, 25.

7. How tall is your mom? Big

8. What is her favorite thing to do? Hug me.

9. What does your mom do when you're not around? Watch TV.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Making lunches.

11. What is your mom really good at? Giving money.

12. What is your mom not very good at? Doing cartwheels.

13. What does your mom do for her job? Help people.

14. What is your mom's favorite food? Peas

15. What makes you proud of your mom? She helps us get some food.

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? Sleeping Beauty.

17. What do you and your mom do together? Cuddle

18. How are you and your mom the same? Hmm. That our hands look the same.

19. How are you and your mom different? That she has brown eyes and I have black eyes.

20. How do you know your mom loves you? She hugs me and kisses me.

Simply stated: Kinda makes me go "hmmm."

Housekeeping

2009-02-08T06:37:00.000-08:00

I like to think that my home is clean. I dust and vacuum, windex and scrub freqeuntly. Now that I'm working full-time I even have someone helping me keep the house as clean as possible. It's not that I WANT to clean. It's really more of a compulsion.

Maybe I've watched one too many of those 20/20 specials where they go through a room with a blacklight and expose all the nastiness. Don't even get me started on hotel rooms. I'll save my germaphobia for another post. Suffice to say, it's rather remarkable that I leave my house at all.

Anyway. If I catch sight of a wayward dustball or offending smudge it is hard for me to concentrate on anything else until I get rid of it. Sometimes it's even hard to sleep. It's not unusual to find me vacuumming at midnight or 6:00 a.m. I know. It's an illness.

If I see it, I need to clean it. If I don't see it, I'm ok. This is one of the main reason I don't often venture into the "man cave" downstairs or Zak's bedroom.

Inevitably, when I'm beginning to feel assured regarding the condition of my home, the brilliant morning sun shines through the wall of windows in the back of our house. And my smugness bites me in the butt. What's revealed are the places that I've forgotten. Even worse are the areas that I thought I'd cleaned thoroughly that remain smudged and soiled. Dust particles permeate the sun-streaked air taunting me as they land on floors and furniture.

I can work myself into a frenzy trying to clean what the intense sunlight reveals. The task is overwhelming. Mercifully, the sun will soon disappear above the rooftop and with it the light of its harsh scrunity.

And so it is with my life. I can keep myself and my character well-groomed and coiffured. At a glance, my life could at times appear squeaky clean. But in those moments when I get real with myself and allow for introspection under the light of the Son, my life is not nearly as antiseptic. Attitudes and motives, selfishness and laziness, all manifest themselves in the Sonlight. Areas that I've neglected are exposed. Weaknesses that I thought I'd taken care of become apparent.

On my own, I can't clean the mess. My heart finds comfort in claiming God's promise to me that it's not by works but by faith that I am saved. That I'm washed clean. From this gratitude arises a new commitment and resolve to do better. To be better. To live a life that brings honor to the One who saved me.

Simply stated: Jesus -- Mr. Clean for the soul.

2009-01-09T18:17:00.001-08:00

My recent ~~addiction to~~ interest in Facebook has caused me to reflect quite a bit on high school and the years immediately following. I graduated in 1983. I'll save you from doing the math. I'm 43.

I've found several classmates on facebook it's been fun to reconnect with my past.

Tonight I pulled out my yearbook to assist me in my stroll down memory lane. I showed it to Zak who is one of the yearbook editors for his school. I told him this was the way they did yearbooks back in the "day". He wasn't impressed.

Sadly, as I flipped through the pages of my past, I was reminded anew that I hated high school.

For those of you who know me now as the outgoing women who can carry on a conversation with a tree and has never met a stranger, you might be surprised to know that I had very few friends in high school. And by very few...I mean none.

There were a few people who signed my yearbook with generic sentiments such as "stay sweet" and "best of luck" but nothing more. Most of my lunch hours during high school were spent walking between the library and my locker "looking" like I had places to go and people to see. I didn't attend a single party. Only a handful of football games. I wanted friends. I guess I was too insecure to reach out.

I couldn't wait to graduate and have never looked back.

I think this is why I try to encourage Caroline to get involved at school. I'm trying to help her realize that to have friends you have to be a friend. It's taken a long time to learn these lessons.

On a positive note, I read my goals that were listed by my senior picture. "Go to college, graduate, and be happy"

Simply stated: I did and I am.

The Journey

2009-01-04T17:04:00.000-08:00

In 1999 Don and I attended a one day FamilyLife marriage conference called I Still Do. As much as the conference impacted us that day, only God knew how it would begin a chain of events that would impact one little life for eternity.

From attending the event we moved on to leading HomeBuilders Bible studies and volunteering at the conference the following year. This led to us hearing and, in an uncharacteristic moment of obedience, following God's call on our lives to leave Maryland, raise our own financial support and move to Little Rock, Arkansas and work with the ministry of FamilyLife for 5 years.

During our time with FamilyLife I felt led to participated in a FamilyLife sponsored mission trip to Guatemala where I visited orphanages and my heart was quite literally broken for the 100 million orphans in our world.

This led to the beginning of our adoption journey. A journey that would stretch our faith and finances and take us to the very limits of ourselves. As we waited the 3 1/2 years to bring our precious Maria home, watching her grow up in pictures without her family, we often questioned God's purposes. I don't think we will ever know the why for our wait.

During one of the lowest points of our wait, plagued by concerns of whether or not her adoption could be completed, someone asked what would be the worst outcome from this experience. Without hesitation I answered that Maria would never come home. I pondered and prayed over my answer and realized the worst that could happen would be if Maria never met her Savior and spent eternity separated from him. From then on my attitude changed and I began praying first for Maria's salvation and secondly that we would be blessed to be the family that would lead her to Him.

It's been 17 months since Maria joined our family and today our prayers were answered with Maria's baptism. Not only will we have the blessing of sharing this life with her, but eternity as well.

9 years of putting plans into motion, a move halfway across the United States, thousands of dollars, 4 trips to Guatemala, a family changed forever. The list goes.

I'm in awe of a God who loves so deeply that He would go to such great lengths for one life. That before Maria's life even began God knew that this would be her story. That we would be her family. That she would be His child.

I'm blessed that He would use someone as flawed as me as His tool.

I'm sobered by the thought that we could have disobeyed.

Simply Stated: The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9

"Ice" Day

2008-12-16T12:44:00.000-08:00

A bit of freezing rain and ice arrived in Little Rock yesterday afternoon just in time for my Christmas party at work. About half of the folks headed for home early while the rest of us enjoyed a quick meal and then joined the masses in traffic. Living close to work definitely has its advantages.

Today we were blessed with an unexpected day off of school and work! Nothing makes you feel more like a kid again than a day off of work because of weather.

We've been staying busy decorating cards and cookies. I'm so enjoying the day that I didn't even freak when I dropped the bowl of egg yolk and food coloring that we were using to paint on cookies. My favorite pajama pants and demin shirt however did not survive quite as well.

While taking pictures of the days activities I also took a few pictures of our decorations to share.

This is our tree. At last count we had over 200 bear ornaments.
This is the shelf in the living room. The stereo components and video games add a particularly festive touch!

This is our mantel. I'm sure the boys love having teddy bear stockings. Santa still fills them though.

Finally, the mistletoe. Needs no explanation :)

Simply Stated: Merry Christmas!

Tis the Season!

2008-12-13T07:52:00.000-08:00

I love the Christmas season. Last night was Caroline's Christmas Choir Concert and it was outstanding. I'd post a picture but after almost 20 years of parenting the camera rarely makes it to these events. Oh, but the memories will live on in my mind. Plus 20 years from now we'll have the liberty to embellish stories while those with video cameras and digital pictures can not. MY kids will have been the stars in every production. AHA!

Back to Christmas. We got the house decorated last weekend...almost. As usual, there are a few loose ends that I need to finish. One of the best moments came when we put a new ornament on the tree. It looks like this:

Finally, our family of six. (Yes, we should have done this last year but better late then never).

And the old ornament has been given a proper burial.

Simply stated: Six is my favorite number!

Maria-isms

2008-11-13T08:22:00.001-08:00

I love listening to Maria tell a story. The combination of being six and not having a complete grasp of English lends itself to some pretty entertaining story telling. For instance...

(Note: if you are offended by stories about "tooting", read no further.)

Several weeks ago our precious girl had an ear ache which required treatment with antibiotic. Unfortunately the antibiotic didn't set very well in her digestive tract and she started having some problems. Gas to be quite blunt.

Since the day we brought Maria home she has been able to clear a room with one of her toots. I remember standing in line with her at a store and she kept tooting. And it was obvious. So let me ask you. If you are the cashier and there was a plus-sized woman at your register accompanied by a petite child who are you going to assume is causing the offensive odor? I finally leaned down to Maria and whispered in her ear that she could not let loose one more toot until we left the store.

Fast forward to several weeks ago when she was on her antibiotic. I walked into her classroom on Wednesday night at church and the smell just about knocked me over. I knew immediately that it was Maria. Obviously we have fully and completely bonded to each other. I scanned the room and she was nowhere to be found so I headed to the bathroom where sure enough Maria was taking care of business. I asked her if she had pooped and she grinned and asked how I had known. I told her because she had stunk up the joint. She giggled.

The next day when I picked her up at school I asked her how her tummy felt. She said "a little good" and went on to explain that she had tooted in class and all the children started grossing out. At which point she claimed it and apologized! Oh, honey girl, that's taking honesty a bit too far. I tried to explain that in a room full of people you don't really need to admit to tooting. Does that make me a bad person?

The next day I picked her up and asked the same question. Yes, she had tooted. Yes, the class had groaned in disgust. No, she didn't admit to it. I asked her if she was tooting on person. And here's the best part...

"Oh, no Mommy. I just couldn't wait any longer. So I relaxed and let the spray go!"

Simply stated: What more can I say?

An update of sorts

2008-11-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Hard to believe it's been almost a month since my last post. For as long as I can remember I have always had an over abundance of words and ideas. Many of which are not worthy of sharing, but they were there nonetheless. But working with the public for eight to nine hours a day seems to exceed my allotted words for the day. Consequently, when evening comes and I might find a few moment to blog, there are no words left. Just an overwhelming need to be quiet.

I'm sure that the men in my life are loving this because they have always been a bit...how do I say this nicely?...challenged by my need to talk incessantly. Truth be told, since beginning my job I will often think of something I need to talk with Don about and I won't have the words or energy to start the conversation. Who knew that the woman who was once described as opening her eyes and mouth simultaneously each morning could be silenced?

Today is a different kind of day. I'm home sick. It seems I've had a perpetual cough and cold for about 4 weeks now and just yesterday started getting congested, again, and running a fever. I'm gonna act like a grown up and go to the doctor's at 2:15. Hopefully I'll leave with some antibiotic.

So while Maria is watching Noggin, after all it is "preschool on TV", I thought I'd write a quick post. A lot has happened.

The Election. I hate election years because it divides my extended family like no other event. For the most part none of us talks politics but everyone knows where the other stands and the tension it creates is not good. I don't presume to know who's the best candidate for our country. Truly, I think we are subjected to a lot of rhetoric during the campaigns and the issues get lost in a bunch of polictical mumbo-jumbo. My Dad says that "figures lie and liars figure." I think this is true for most politicians. What is most important is that I voted and I did so with a clear conscience and no hidden agenda. Bottom-line. My God is bigger than any election or president. In Him I will trust.

The Twilight Zone. Caroline just finished working on her first play at her new school. Even though she's only in middle school she tried out for a part in the high school play and she earned herself two small parts in two different episodes. The play was a compilation of 6 Twilight Zone episodes and was really fun to watch...twice. The schedule of practices, school, homework, and church activities just about did Caroline in but she prevailed and did a great job. Try outs for the spring musical "The Music Man" starts in a couple of weeks. Even though musicals are Caroline's favorite she says she's not ready for another production.

Downsizing. The unemployment woes hit close to home last week. Don's company had lay-offs and Don was the last one hired so there was a brief moment of worry. Fortunately, his company took into consideration his years of working for Haagen-Dazs before our hiatus for ministry and he was spared. It was a wake up call and a reality check for me that instead of complaining about jobs or having to work that we need to be grateful that we are both employed.

Grammy and Gram: Don's mom (Grammy) has been very sick and has been in and out of the hospital for several month's. I won't write much because they are a private family (unlike me who was born without the ability to self-censor) but it has been a very difficult time for her. I'm so glad that we made the decision months ago to spend Thanksgiving with them in Seattle.

Gram (my grandmother) fell and broke her hip on Monday and had surgery yesterday. She's 86 years old and hasn't rallied well from the surgery. Although the family was warned about this we still hate to see her suffer. It's hard being so faraway from family at times like this. Please pray for Grammy and Gram.

Simply stated: I need to go blow my nose.

Interesting Reading

2008-10-17T13:45:00.000-07:00

When I'm not checking out patients or falling out of chairs at work, one will often find me reading the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (or DSM as we in the biz will call it). For those of you unfamiliar with the DSM it is a manual published by the American Psychiatric Association (APA) that includes all currently recognized mental health disorders.

So what began as an earnest attempt to educate myself on the issues that many of our patients deal with has turned into a quest to diagnose myself. And everyone else around me.

For example, I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have sleep terror disorder. The DSM describes this as night terrors, also known as pavor nocturnus, characterized by extreme terror and a temporary inability to regain full consciousness. The subject (me) wakes abruptly from slow-wave sleep, with waking usually accompanied by gasping, moaning, or screaming. It is often impossible to fully awaken the person, and after the episode the subject normally settles back to sleep without waking. Thereby leaving that subject's spouse to scrape himself off of the ceiling.

For any of you who have had the misfortune of spending a night under the same roof as me, you know this to be all too true.

For those of you who have had the extreme misfortune of sharing a bed with me, I am truly sorry.

While often comical, my night terrors have proven to be dangerous as well. My "episodes" have inflicted countless bruises, nasty scrapes and even one round of stitches. My children have become immune to the sound of mom's pounding footsteps running down the hallway in the middle of the night. Even the blood curdling screams are no longer cause for alarm.

Not so much for poor Don. I don't think one ever grows accustomed to being woken from a dead sleep by a screaming lunatic next to you.

There is no cure. No telethon. No awareness campaign.

Anti-anxiety meds are the only treatment. And, until Don is at the point of slipping a Klonopin in my late night diet coke, I don't see that happening.

Simply stated: Do you think it's a coincidence that my co-workers took my manual away yesterday?

P.S. I believe that mental illness and mental disorders are no laughing matter. I'm a strong proponent of therapy and medication for people suffering with a variety of mental disorders and illnesses. I also can't pass up an opportunity to use self-depricating humor to get a cheap laugh. Maybe some more diagnosing is needed.

What does it say about a person?

2008-10-08T09:39:00.000-07:00

Hypothetically speaking. What does it say about a person's wardrobe when their daughter sees her ironing a shirt and then inquires as to why she's getting dressed up.

Or again, hypothetically speaking, when the other daughter asks why mommy is so "fancy" simply for wearing some $10.00 costume jewelry from Kohl's.

Simply Stated: A "person" might get a complex.

Once a klutz...always a klutz.

2008-10-06T16:59:00.000-07:00

I've made it six weeks at my new job without revealing my clumsy side. I haven't fallen, tripped, run into a wall, or broken anything. Until today.

Since the very first day that I pulled my chair up to my desk, I've known that today's display of my lack of grace was inevitable. You see I have a chair. With wheels. And this chair with wheels resides on a piece of smooth and slick plastic. Now, to most people this would not be cause for concern. I, unfortunately, am not most people. And today I made the worst kind of mistake. I tried to sit down. While carrying on a conversation. At the same time.

Do you see where this is going? Let me describe the scene for you.

My boss, Paula's, office is across the hallway from my window. I was perched over my desk having an uneventful converstion with Paula when in a moment of reckless abandon I decided to sit down. Without bothering to grab the handles of the chair my rear end merely grazed the edge of the seat thereby propelling the chair across the room leaving only gravity between me and the floor. I knew what was happening but by vain efforts to grab at something proved pointless. I landed on butt/back, the momentum of the fall causing my legs to skyrocket heavenward. I'm sure the bruises will be evident by tomorrow.

It seemed as though I was falling in slow motion. Through the window I could see the panicked look on Paula's face as I disappeared from view. When I sat up I was surrounded by all of my co-workers in the front office, Paula, and one of our doctors. The chorus of gasps, "oh my gosh's," and "is she ok's" quickly turned to giggles once everyone realized that my convulsions were caused by embarrased laughter rather than a serious head injury.

Someone said she'd thought I fainted. Why didn't I think of that?

Simply stated: Nothing to see here folks.

Wedding Etiquette Survey

2008-10-05T14:31:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we attended the wedding of a young couple at our church. It was a beautiful ceremony and we were honored to be included in their special day.

At the reception I was searching for the gift table to place our card. A good friend of mine was curious why I would be giving a gift at the wedding since I had already brought a gift to the bride-to-be's shower. I must have looked a little confused by her question. She went on to explain that they only buy one gift even if invited to both functions.

My question...is this a southern thing? I asked my friend from California who agreed with our east coast ways. I asked another Arkansas friend who confirmed that they, too, only purchase one gift. Please, please, please post your responses as to what your customs dictate. I'm really curious about this one.

Another thing about southern weddings is that people don't use RSVP cards. Again...is this a southern thing or just a new trend in weddings?

And while we're on the topic of north vs. south, I feel as though I've marked some right of passage into southern-womanhood as I've used Ro-tel in our last two meals and neither entree included cheese dip.

We also drink sweet tea on a regular basis.

I must admit as well that I've used the word "buggy" referring to a shopping cart and the work "sack" in place of the more northern alternative bag. Y'all are rubbing off on me.

Simply stated: I best be fixin' to get ready for community group.

I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth

2008-10-04T10:00:00.000-07:00

Caroline has instructed me that I "have to sit down and post something this weekend." Plus,
I figured I'd better write something just to break the dry spell and get the momentum moving again. Truth be told, my eyes keep closing as I try and type. I'm just so doggone tired.

All is well, however, just a new kind of busy. And oh, how I cherish our weekends like never before. As a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) the weekends held nothing new. Just more of the same laundry and housework. Now sleeping in until 8:00 a.m. as opposed to 5:30 a.m. on weekdays seems positively luxurious. I also appreciate being able to take control of my schedule over the weekend instead of having every waking moment being dictated by the next task. If I want to stop and watch football with the guys...so be it.

I apologize for the lack of humorous posts. Hopefully something funny will happen soon. You'll be the first know. In the meantime I do have a few bathrooms to clean since company is coming tomorrow.

One cute thing: As Maria continues to grow in her knowledge of matters of faith, she got a bit confused regarding the relationship between God and Jesus. At one point she said "oh, I thought Jesus was God's last name." I explained that God and Jesus are kind of a holy team that created us and takes care of us. (It will be awhile before we introduce the trinity concept). That night as she prayed she concluded by saying "I just love you guys" in referring to God and Jesus. I laughed silently. I'm sure God and Jesus smiled.

Simply stated: Thanks for reading.

The Irony of it All

2008-09-13T09:08:00.000-07:00

This week I've been frustrated to the point of tears during phone conversations with both the speech therapy teacher and ESL (English as a Second Language) teachers at Maria's school. Apparently Maria doesn't qualify for either of these services. Say what?!?

I pleaded her case and gave example upon example of the areas that we see at home that you would never detect in a cursory, 15-minute evaluation. The best I could get was a "we'll keep an eye on her." I did almost snap when the ESL teacher told me that in her 33 years of teaching experience she saw no need for services. I replied that having sent 3 other kindergarteners to school prior to Maria, I did see reasons to be concerned. Does mother's intuition trump classroom experience?

With as much courtesy as I could muster I thanked her for her time and told her I was sure that she hadn't heard the last of us.

I won't say much more because I try to only criticize myself or the wasps on my blog. Suffice to say that our public school system would rather be reactive than proactive. Makes no sense to me.

And now for the irony. Yesterday Maria came bounding into the kitchen and for the first time seemed genuinely excited about something that she had learned at school. As we sat eye to eye for her to share with me her newly acquired knowledge she exclaimed...

"I learned my colors...in Spanish!"

Simply stated: OMG!

Free to a good home

2008-09-10T19:12:00.001-07:00

Middle-aged mixed breed dog (old mutt).

House-trained (except when he decides to pee on your brand new laminate floor.)

Great disposition (except when cornered under a countertop avoiding being put in his crate for peeing on brand new laminate flooring at which point he tries to bite the hand that's dragging him from his hiding place.)

Well-behaved (except when he escapes the confines of the kitchen when no one is home because someone leaves the gate open during which time he proceeds to pull food and trash out of every accessible trash can, drag stuffed animals from room to room, jump on the furniture as is evident by the pounce marks on the cushions, and eats underwear--these are just the things I know about.)

In good health (except for the chronic anal gland infections and epilepsy requiring twice a day doses of medication).

Only slightly neurotic exhibiting symptoms such as nail biting, leg chewing (his own) and chronic floor licking.

Simply Stated: Any takers?

Put on your party hats...

2008-09-07T13:42:00.000-07:00

and join the angels rejoicing in heaven! We have a new little sister in Christ...Maria Fernanda.

Maria has been asking to be baptized since vacation Bible school but I've been putting her off. My concern was that she didn't really understand what baptism symbolized and was more excited about going for a swim at church.

Over that past couple of months we have had many opportunities to talk about Jesus. During this time she has developed a keen sensitivity to matters of right and wrong and is quick to show remorse for her wrong doingings.

On our way out of church this afternoon she ran up to our pastor for the umpteenth time and asked when she could be baptized. I told Maria before we talked to Brother Allan again that we needed to really talk about asking Jesus into her heart. I told her to remind me when we got home. I thought that would be it for a while.

Nope.

We had just returned from a Sam's Club run and I hadn't even had time to find a place for the 50 lb. tub of animal crackers when she asked me if we could talk. And so we did.

Using the pamphlet "Do you want to belong to God's family?" we talked about sin, separation from God, hell (the bad place), the crucifixion and resurrection, God's gift of eternal life and how to accept His Gift. And she really got it. She prayed a sweet and sincere prayer asking God to forgive her and help her do right so that she can live with Him forever in heaven.

All those years of praying for Maria to join our family and now she is part of God's family too.

Simply stated: I have no greater joy.

I'm a Dot Com

2008-09-06T18:56:00.000-07:00

I have the coolest kids. And cool kids give cool birthday gifts.

Alex bought me the domain name simplystatedstacie.com. For now it simply links you to my blog at blogspot but the possibilities are endless. He says tech support comes with the gift.

Unfortunately Alex gave me the gift very subtly and I'm not so good at subtle. He sent me an email on my birthday including the link to my new website. I just thought it was a happy birthday email and didn't notice the .com at the end of my simplystatedstacie. It wasn't until lunch today that I discovered the gift within the email. And that's only because Maria asked Alex where his present for Mommy was. Sorry Alex. I LOVE my gift.

Zak ordered me my very own MP3 player. I can't wait to get it. He says tech support comes with the gift.

My teens are going to pull me into the 21st century despite my own ineptitude with technology.

Alex also took Caroline and Maria to Kohl's to pick out gifts for me.

Caroline bought me a bath set with one of my favorite scents. I also received a gift card. I see shopping in my future.

Maria (with Alex's help) picked me out a really nice necklace. It reminds me of something that Betty Rubble might wear. It's really cute.

And Don had roses sent to work on Thursday. The note that accompanied the cards made me cry. I don't have his permission to post what he wrote but if you ask me I'll tell you.

Simply stated: I love birthdays!

There's a yellow ball in the sky...

2008-09-06T07:09:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's the sun! I didn't recognize you.

Simply stated: Welcome back, you've been missed.

2008-09-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

I'm in a "place." I've been here before.

The last time I was in this place was 4 years ago when our beloved student pastors announced that they were leaving our church. I mourned as if someone was dying. As I sifted through my emotions as to why their departure was so difficult I realized there was more to my grief than the loss of wonderful mentors. What I realized was that I had inadvertently relinquished all responsibility for the spiritual health of my teens to this couple. It was comforting to know that "professionals" were overseeing their Christian walk.

I was scared spitless to resume the task although I never should have let go of it in the first place. So I "manned up" to the task and together with Don we've done our best to guide our boys through the rapids of adolescence. And although our efforts were less than perfect, I believe that God has honored our intentions.

I've been feeling a similar loss since we left ministry with FamilyLife. For months I've been soul searching to unearth the reason for this unsettled feeling. I think I know.

Somewhere along the journey I had allowed being "in" ministry to define me as a follower of Jesus. With it's absence came what can best be described as a bit of an identity crisis. My purpose seemed less important. Less godly.

But God isn't allowing me to stay in this place. Over the recent days He has used sermons, devotionals, and a wise and precious friend to remind me that I can still make each day God-honoring and purposeful. Rather than being "in" ministry I need to be about "doing" ministry in every area of my life. It's time for me to take back the responsibility for impacting the world around me instead of just wearing the nametag. I can now see the innumerable opportunities in my home, neighborhood, church and workplace to be about God's business. For the first time in a long time, I'm excited.

Simply Stated: Bring it!

Lost...

2008-09-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

Creative mojo.

If found please return to: Simply Stated Stacie

A Taste of the Good Life

2008-08-29T15:22:00.000-07:00

You know when you've experienced the best of the best, it becomes difficult to settle for less? Kind of like eating the store-brand of Pop Tarts. This pretty much summarizes my transition back into the working world. Like a store brand "toaster pastry" you can certainly choke one down if you have to but it would definitely not be your first choice. Especially not when you've been able to eat all you can care to eat of the real thing for the last year.

This is not to say that this past week has been bad. Everyone has gotten where they need to be on time, most have adjusted to being back to school and work without complaint and we are actually eating better because meals are being planned in advance instead of waiting until late afternoon to decide "what's for dinner?" The main reason for the physical success of our transition has been that everyone has stepped up.

Alex is completely independent and needs no prodding or even a wake up call to get to class on time or complete his homework. He handles his own money and the purchasing of school supplies and books without a reminder. He is motivated and disciplined to make his education priority 1.

Zack has taken on the important role of chauffeur. He gets Caroline to and from school each day and picks Maria up from extended day at her school so she doesn't have to stay more than an hour or so. He has even begun taking our neighbor to school two mornings a week. This has been a huge help.

Caroline has stepped in to take care of Maria when neither Mom or Dad are home in the late afternoon. She'll get Maria in and out of the tub (I don't even want to know why she is so dirty every day after school) and then they'll usually settle in for a little bit of the Disney channel while Caroline gets her homework started.

And then there's our family All-Star...Don. He has stepped up in a way that most men never would. He has taken on...drum roll please...grocery shopping and Sam's club. I know you are jealous. And he's done this in pure Don fashion. With organization and a spread sheet. Yup. Our grocery list is now organized by aisle to make shopping as quick and efficient as possible. I just have to plan the meals and make the list. Then *poof*! I come home to a kitchen full of groceries.

Don has also Don the majority of the dishes when he's home and even "took one for the team" by allowing our smelly dog into his pristine car for a ride to the vet. Y'all, if you only knew how much Don deplores the smell of dog and the trail of dog hair.

Don is truly a servant-leader in action. If it weren't for him I think you'd find me rolled up into the fetal position, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Instead I even have a few minutes to blog. I am a blessed woman.

So you may be asking yourself "what's all the whining about in that first paragraph?" Because everyone's doing MY job. Truth be told (even though I may have played the martyr at times) I found great satisfaction in meeting every one of my families' needs. Now they're doing just fine or even better without my help. Ok, maybe it is a pride issue.

I also enjoyed being with my girls 24/7 and being in complete control of our schedule. We could do what we wanted and come and go as we pleased. We played...a lot. Now it's work/school, dinner/dishes, homework/bedtime. Every. Single. Day. The ironic thing is that my girls are really happy and routine is good. It just seems I've had to say goodbye to one of the best years of my mommy career. And goodbyes are difficult.

This is not to say that our new "normal" is so bad or that it wasn't time to rejoin the real world. Maybe it's good that everyone share the load for a change. Maybe we'll really appreciate the hours that we share together every day.

Simply stated: Maybe we're all growing up.

When good eggs go bad...

2008-08-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

We awoke Sunday morning to a more relaxed pace than the rest of this week. Even Saturday saw Caroline and I leaving the house before 7:30 a.m. for a conference at church. But on Sunday no one even opened their eyes until a few minutes after 7:00. By 7:30 it was time to start getting up and getting ready for Sunday school with plenty of time for leisurely showers and unrushed breakfasts. So when Maria asked for eggs for breakfast I was happy to oblige.

Before I continue I should probably tell you that I think eggs are disgusting. Once and a while I will take a bite if it's smothered with cheese. Other than that I obstain from egg consumption. And the idea of cooking and smelling eggs first thing in the morning is equally unappealing. Maria however, LOVES egg. In order to meet her dietary requests and not gag in process I've begun cooking her scrambled eggs in the microwave. Quick, easy, and relatively odor free. It's worked really well. For months. Until today.

Half way through the cooking process (about 1 minute and a half) we heard a horrendous explosion. Maria and I both stopped, looked at each other, and ran to the microwave where we discovered this...

Can I get an OMG from y'all?

Since I had the time to clean it up, I was able to laugh at the absurdity of the exploded mess. Maria found it harder to find the humor in the situation since she was now foregoing her "cheesey eggs" for a bowl of cold Rice Krispies. Once I took the picture it became a little funnier to her as well.

As I cleaned up the egg shrapnel I kept thinking to myself, "Thank you Lord that this hadn't happened on a week morning." I think that would have pushed me right over the proverbial edge.

Don and I took turns cleaning it up in between getting ready (now at a rushed pace). Apparently it smelled really bad too. Mercifully, I've had a cold all week and couldn't smell it. Caroline would pull her shirt over her nose every time she entered the kitchen. Don turned on the exhaust fan on the stovetop. Maria thought is smelled delightful. Go figure.

Maria and I did managed to make it to Sunday school only a few minutes late (Don and Caroline ~~bailed on us~~ left early since Don was teaching this morning). I was actually pretty proud of myself for not freaking out. What good would that do, right?

Simply stated: No use crying over exploded eggs.

First day of work...

2008-08-19T20:16:00.001-07:00

Simply stated: too tired to blog.

Maria's First Day of School

2008-08-18T06:16:00.000-07:00

Here she is. Our precious girl on her first day of school (Maria would add "ever in my whole life!")
Here she is in the classroom. She loves the shelf with all of the books.

Last night at bedtime Maria was getting a little nervous about school. So we came up with this little reminder. On her right hand is a heart to remind her that she is always in Mommy's heart and that I love her. On the left hand is a cross. This reminds her that Jesus gives her the power to be brave (thank you vacation Bible school for this slogan!)

When I left her in her classroom she got a little teary for just a second. I left quickly and she seemed fine. I know she'll have a great day.

The house is mucho quiet this morning. I've got tons to do before I start my job tomorrow so I'd better not fritter it away on my blog.

Simply stated: Nothing like sending your fourth child to kindergarten to make a girl feel old.

Guest Blogger

2008-08-13T17:51:00.001-07:00

Since many of you are far more interested in hearing about Caroline's first day of school than from me, I've asked her to be my guest blogger. Welcome Caroline...

Hey! My first day of school was pretty good. First period was History. I hate History. I'm just not good at memorizing all those facts, but I think my teacher will make it pretty fun. I have Art next and one of my best friends is in that same class. I have Choir with another one of my friends and I think that will be good too. Bibical World View (or Bible for short) will be really fun! Then, lunch- The best part of the day. Why? I get to talk with my friends, of course! Lunch was followed by English and Pre-Algebra. Those are my favorite subjects and my favorite teachers. My english teachers has a shy side to her but she can be really outgoing at times. My math teacher reminds me of my Fourth grade teacher. She is really cool, too. I don't know how to describe her but she is pretty awesome! Then, science (I HATE Science for the same reason I hate History). The teachers name is Ms. Wade. She is one of those teachers that acts like she doesn't want to be there. Exampe:
Ms. Wade: "Is this 7th period?" (the last period of the day)
Class: "Yes"
Ms. Wade "Oh, thank goodness.(SIGH)"
And for some reason she talks REALLY loud! Now halfway through science my nose itched so I rubbed it and I looked at my finger and there was blood on it! I rasied my hand and told Ms. Wade that my nose was bleeding. She let me go to the bathroom. I was on my way to the nurses office (and I wasn't sure where it was) when the middleschool principal walks out of her office. She asks what was wrong I told her I had a nose bleed. She asks me if I was going to the nurses offices and I said yes. I asked her where it was and she said it was in the elementary. So she came to the bathroom with me and help me clean it up. Then, I headed back to Science. I also had a headache at this time so I was really ready to go home. My locker was also a mess. Originally, I was going to stay a couple minutes after school to put paper and dividers in my binders and get more organized. But I wanted to go home and there were too many people in the middle school TRAILER!!! Yup, no permanent building. So I headed up to the highschool where I finally found Zack and we headed out to the car. We went to staples and I now have all the things for my binders so I can get organized tomorrow!

All in all I had a very good day. The good outweighed the bad and I think I am looking forward to tomorrow. (Except, I have P.E.! :( ) -Caroline

Simply Stated: There you have it.

A Tale of Two First Days

2008-08-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

School started back today for both Zak and Caroline.

While Caroline was busy reviewing her schedule and packing her backpack, Zak was putting the finishing touches on the newly painted rims on his jeep.

While Caroline and I checked and re-checked her school supply list to make sure we had purchased everything, Zak took my charge card and handled back-to-school shopping on his own this year.

Caroline was nervous about the day. Zak could best be desribed as ambivalent.

Zak drove himself to school and parked in the lot reserved for seniors while Caroline nervously exited the comforts of my car as the new kid at the middle school.

Now I wait at home to hear about their experiences, praying that God will meet each of them today.

Simply stated: It's way too quiet here.

It all started innocently enough

2008-08-13T08:39:00.000-07:00

I was just going to vacuum the threshold to Zak's room. After all, it does directly intersect with my parts of the house. Just a few feet, I reminded myself. No one would have to know about it. But there it was. Just a little further inside the room. Taunting me. One of those plastic thingamabobbers that affixes the tags on to new clothing. Once I saw it there, I just couldn't leave it. That would be wrong.

Call it a compulsion but I just had to vacuum it up. This of course led to another piece of lint and another, and a trail of fruit snack wrappers and a few errant socks. Before I knew it I had picked up and vacuumed his entire room!

What is wrong with me I ask you?

And...it only gets worse, friends.

Because, then I...dusted. I couldn't help it. Do you hear my cry for help?

Then I sewed a button on a pair of his shorts and started packing his lunch for his first day of school.

At least Zak appreciated my efforts. He arrived home talking on his cell phone. I walked into his room, made a sweeping gesture with my arms, and mouthed the words "do you see how clean your room is?" I got a thumbs up. Next I presented him with the newly buttonized pair of shorts. He mouthed the words "thank you" accompanied by a big grin.

I don't know. Maybe I was absent the day God handed out common sense and boundaries. Maybe I'm just that much of a control freak. Or quite possibly, I just like doing nice things for my teens who are needing me less and less every day. What's done is done.

Oh, and Alex, I'm coming your way next.

Simply stated: Somethings never change.

Just when you thought you couldn't love someone more...

2008-08-10T16:16:00.001-07:00

IT happens. The perfect blend of timing, activity, and attitudes. With it comes an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. It doesn't happen often and can never be recreated. It is precious.

It happened for Caroline and I this past Thursday and Friday as we celebrated her entrance into middle school and adolescence with a special trip to Branson, Missouri. We talked, laughed, shopped, had pedicures, saw a show, ate at fun restaurants, hugged, talked, and laughed some more. It was totally indulgent but it was also an investment in our relationship and in her future.
We were diligent as well to complete her Passport to Purity. While the conversations were not always easy or comfortable it was so worthwhile. At times I would have preferred to shut our workbooks and turn off the CD in favor of more shopping. But we stayed the course and I'm so glad that we did.

Here are a few pictures of our trip:

Working on one of our projects.

Midnight snack.

My sweet girl on deck of the Branson Belle.

Celebration dinner on the Showboat Branson Belle.

As a result of our time together, I feel that Caroline is better equipped to face the challenges that await her. I, on the other hand, am more in love with my sweet girl. I saw glimpses into the young woman that God has destined her to be and it is a thing of beauty.

On Wednesday Caroline will return to school after being home with me for the past year. She is ready and I know that she will blossom. I will miss her terribly. If I could I would sit with each of her teachers and the staff at LRCA and I would tell them the following:

I'm sending my heart to sit in your class each day. It comes in the form of a precious 12-year-old girl. Please do not take the responsibility of educating her lightly. She is coming to your school with a sense of excitement and carefree expectancy. Please make sure she stays that way. I'm trusting you to look out for her best interest while she is in your care. You will be blessed to have her in your class.

And one more thing. If you hurt her I will hunt you down and take you out. Just kidding. Actually, I'm not.

Simpy stated: I am blessed.

New Doo..New Job

2008-08-05T15:43:00.000-07:00

Today started with a trip to the salon (a.k.a. my friend Charla) for a new haircut. One of these days I'll need to write any entire post about Charla's salon. Let's just say I lower the average age of the clientele by about half each time I go. Makes me feel like a kid again.

Here's the new doo. A bit shorter than I wanted it but definitely the shape I was going for.

Armed with all of the confidence that a sassy new haircut brings, I headed to my job interview. And...drum roll please...I got the job. Yay me!

I've got two weeks to get all of our ducks in a row.

Simply stated: Gotta go!

I surrender!

2008-08-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

The yellow jackets can have the little pool. I just sprayed myself in the eye with wasp and hornet spray trying to once again rid the pool of bees. I killed six in the process but I value my eyesight far more than a dip in the pool.

Simply stated: Waving the proverbial white flag.

Can you smell it?

2008-08-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

It's the scent of change. And it's in the wind.

Our summer of late mornings and lazy afternoons will soon be replaced by the routine of school and work...for everyone. Including me. I'm not sure where I'll be working but I know it will be a daily weekday occurrence.

And, (speaking in a whisper) I think I'm starting to get a little excited about the possibility. Is that really awful? I've been "just a mom" for so long now, I've begun to forget about the capable professional that I once was.

Don't get me wrong. I have Loved (note the capital "L") every minute of being home with my children these past five years that we've lived in Little Rock. This past year of intentionally sowing into the lives of both Caroline and Maria has been precious beyond words. A gift. A luxury. A blessing.

But I've also missed working. It seems that both finances and my need to not spend countless hours at home vacuuming while waiting to pick up the children from school are steering me in a new direction. Surprisingly, what started as a need to work to make ends meet has involved into something more. It's hard to put into words the emotion that the possibility has stirred within me. Excitement...anticipation...potential...fear...all rolled into a big ball of "I think I want this."

So, I have a job interview on Tuesday for an Office Representative position with an established Christian counseling clinic. It sounds like something I'd really like to do with potential for ministering to hurting people. It's also a full-time job which would result in a lot of change for our family. But if we've learned anything in the past 10 years or so, it's that change can be good.

There are also some other possibilities floating out there which could bring about the dreaded need to make a choice. None of the options are perfect. Perfect doesn't exist. If the choices present themselves the way I think they might I will need to weigh the needs and wants of our family, our finance, my fulfillment. Not an easy task I tell you. Not easy at all.

Simply stated: We'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Tha Language of Adoption

2008-07-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

As we near the one year anniversary of the day Maria joined our family, I’ve been reflecting on how our family has changed. There are the obvious changes such as going from three children to four or progressing backwards from the youngest being eleven to a youngest of five. While the adjustments were challenging at times, we had experienced similar transitions as each of our biological children joined our family.

More profound yet subtle has been the change in our language. Not from English to Spanish. Rather this last year, like no other time in the life of our family, has taught us to be thoughtful and intentional about the words that we use.

We learned this first by necessity. Adopting an older, non-English speaking child initially required that we change our language to use simple words. This is hard for me. I like words, big words, and lots of them. Despite this, we adjusted our language to choose rudimentary words whose sole purpose was merely to communicate the necessities of day to day life. In no time Maria’s vocabulary and understanding increased to where conversation was no longer cumbersome.

At this stage we began to relax and revert to less intentional word choices. It was then when we learned that sarcasm, colloquialisms, and teasing are not appreciated by a child new to both our family and our language. Maria’s literal interpretations, although comical at times, were more often than not a cause of great distress for her. We adjusted our word choices once again to avoid confusing or potentially hurtful language. This is challenging for a family that practically drips with sarcasm. A year later this is still a major need for Maria’s continuing adjustment into our family. While we don’t always do this perfectly, we do our best.

We learned quickly as well that even when a conversation did not directly involve Maria, her need to understand what was going on was vital to her emotional well-being. Quick-witted bantering at the dinner table or spontaneous laughter would often trigger her insecurities. If Maria didn’t understand what was being said she would immediately assume that she was the topic of conversation or the cause of the laughter. As a result she would become distraught and withdrawn. And so we slowed down our dialog allowing ample time for repetition and explanations.

We have also acquired new language. Most notable is the use of the word adopt in all its various forms. I struggle a bit with the need to continue using the word. Not that I would for one minute want to avoid the topic or gloss over the facts of how Maria joined our family. I just thought we’d be done with the word by now. After all, one year after our older children each joined our family I wasn’t still recounting their birthing stories. I want it to be the same for Maria. But adoption is different. Not inferior, just different. I’ve begun to understand that by keeping Maria’s adoption story at the forefront, we are in a sense making it the new normal. By using adoptive language in an intentional and positive way, we are affirming Maria and the journey that brought her to us. Her story is what makes her who she is and what completed our family. It’s a story that did, and always will, include adoption.

Some words are difficult. For me the phrases “your first parents” or “your first mommy” are challenging. I would be less than honest if I didn’t admit that these words are brutal to my mother’s heart. I want to be the only mommy that Maria has ever had. And, although I’m the first and only one to fill this role in her life, I cannot pretend that another woman did not give her the gift of life. It’s an issue I’m working on. I hope that one day these words will flow from my mouth with grace and ease, bringing healing and comfort to Maria’s heart. Meanwhile, it is my challenge to mention her first parents with some degree of regularity, my words always seasoned with compassion and gratitude for the gift of our daughter.

There are also the sweetest of words. Maria has begun to earnestly appreciate the gift that is a family and she verbalizes this frequently. Mercifully, most six-year-olds have never gone without a family and therefore can not fathom life apart from one. Maria can. Almost daily she will mention how wonderful it is to be part of family and how happy she is to be with us. Her expressions of joy and gratitude are often accompanied by emotional tears. What a blessing it is to be the recipient of her heartfelt sentiments.

This past year has conditioned us to be ever mindful that words are powerful. We are a better family because of it. We have learned that the language of adoption is quite simply adjusting how and what we say to most thoughtfully communicate. It’s using words to intentionally build one another up and convey a sense of belonging. It’s the language of love. Of family.

More "little pool" adventures

2008-07-29T15:27:00.001-07:00

It is stinkin' hot here in Little Rock. Heat index today of 103. And it's dry. I can't remember the last time we saw any significant rain. The sky will spit on us every once and a while. Just enough to turn the dust on the car into mud spots.

Because it's so hot and dry, a community of yellow jackets has discovered the "little pool" and made it their personal watering hole. Once again the Arkansas wildlife had taken over the little pool. Until today when Maria's friend came over with a bathing suit and towel prepared to swim. Always the accommodating hostess, and not wanting to disappoint our guest, it was time to reclaim the little pool.

I ventured out to get a good feel for the situation. 4 or 5 bees were lounging around the pool blissfully lapping at the water. They seemed totally unphased by the carcasses of their dead bee friends floating between the top of the water and dip in the pool cover. These dudes are either really dumb or really crappy friends.

I mustered up enough instestinal fortitude to pull off the pool cover thus causing quite a ruckus among the lounging bees. I was a bit afraid until my eyes were drawn to the bottom of the pool revealing the watery grave for about 15 more bees. Aha, so they're just plain dumb and haven't figured out that the little pool is a death trap.

I called Don out to witness the carnage. Then together, armed with a Tupperware strainer, a can of wasp spray, and a fly swatter we waged war on the yellow jackets, dead and alive. While I was busy scooping and hurling the dead bodies, Don was using the fly swatter to send the live ones sailing back into the yard. This went on for what seemed like an eternity but given the temperature and relative humity it was probably only 1o minutes. The little pool was deemed safe for human occupants.

Until the girls got into the pool. And the bees returned.

For the next hour I stood guard with the fly swatter and wasp spray (admittedly some of time was spent watching from inside, but it's REALLY hot). Nobody was getting stung on my watch. Thankfully it wasn't too long before Maria's friend was ready to get out and come inside.

A side note: In preparation for writing this post I thought I'd take a picture of the little pool. As if to prove my point, when I approached the pool with camera in hand, a couple of yellow jackets stopped by for happy hour. One was floating on the water, one was already water-logged enough to be resting at the bottom of the pool and another hopped in while I watched. Can you say euthanasia? Sure I could have rescued him but after a long day of battle I felt justified in holding him under water assisted by my Tupperware strainer. By the way, a bee can hold it's breath for a surprisingly long time. I have pictures. Wanna see?

The "little pool."

Don't do it...

I warned you!

I have a feeling this problem isn't going away anytime soon. I think I've pushed my luck enough for one summer. Tomorrow we'll go to Wild River Country instead of the little pool.

Simply stated: Once again I've angered the bee community. We might have to move.

It is well...with my soul...

2008-07-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

I've been in a bit of a funk this past week. I'm not sure why. Just lots of niggling issues that need to be resolved. I'd almost feel better about my lack of peace if there was something major going on. At least then my melancholy would be justifable. (That looks even more ludicrous on screen than it sounded running through my head). But, by the grace of God, it's just a me issue.

Even in the midst of my self-induced, self-centered pity party, God showed up on Sunday and opened my eyes to my blessings.

As worship began, I did a mental headcount of my family and their whereabouts. Don was sitting to my left having just returned at midnight from a week long trip. Caroline was on my right, pen and bulletin at the ready to take sermon notes. Maria had decided to stay in Children's Worship and I cheered her decision to be independent and spread her wings. Alex was positioned at the back of the worship center in the sound booth running the video and powerpoint for the service. Zack was upfront on stage playing drums with the worship band. As I finished roll call a blanket of peace and gratitude settled over me, almost bringing me to tears. My whole family, present and accounted for, serving and worshiping.

Simply stated: "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth." 3 John 4

Words you don't want to hear...

2008-07-23T16:32:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, come quick! This is not good." (It sounds so much cuter with her hispanic accent!)

I could tell by the pitch of Maria's voice and the fact that her pants were not pulled up all the way, that this could be a potential plumbing crisis. I was relieved to see that the bathroom was not flooded. Instead the little spindle that holds the toilet paper was floating in the toilet. And the water in the bowl...was yellow. To flush or not to flush? That is the question.

It's important for you to understand how our family works. Don handles all toilet emergencies at our house. Yesiree, he's one lucky man. Unfortunately for me, he's in Chicago this week. And, big surprise here, I don't like sticking my hands in toilet water. Especially toilet water with pee in it.

Case in point. When our kiddos were potty-training, I would throw their soiled underwear away rather than stick my hands into the toilet to rinse them out.

In my defense, I did try to remove a #2 from a pair of training pants...once. I gingerly held the offending article of clothing by it's waist band and slushed it around in the water while flushing at the same time. This method didn't work very well as the force of the flush tore the undies from my tentative grip and sucked them to wherever it is that toilet water goes. I called Don and asked him if our septic system could digest a pair of size 2 underoos. I heard him roll his eyes through the phone.

Tonight I had no choice. I was going in. Using only two fingers, I quickly and somewhat frantically pulled out the spindle. A little gagging ensued. With the speed and agility of an olympic athlete I rushed the infected spindle to the sink where I rinsed it, and my hands, with half a bottle of soap and scolding hot water.

Poor Maria was positively distraught that she had caused Mommy another encounter with the toilet. I think she's still a bit scarred from the stool sample episode.

Truth be told she was only trying to do what the semi-adult members of our household had been too lazy to do for themselves. Namely, put a new roll on the holder. I will never understand the aversion to replacing the empty roll with a full one. I guess the last person to benefit from actually having paper on the roll figures the absence of paper is the next person's problem. Such a thoughtful family.

As we were leaving the bathroom Maria said with all the sincerity and remorse that she could muster, "Mommy, I'm so sorry I had to let you touch my pee."

It's o.k., darlin' girl. That's what mommies are for. Apparently this now qualifies me as the "best mommy in the whole world."

Simply stated: Is it me or does my hand smell like pee?

Now Showing: Many the Miles...The Movie

2008-07-22T22:14:00.000-07:00

Please silence your cell phones and enjoy the show.

Simply stated: And a good time was had by all.

Hallelujah!

2008-07-22T22:12:00.000-07:00

Simply stated: A picture is worth a thousand words.

Best Friends

2008-07-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

You know there is too much wildlife around your house when you can recognize, name, and become emotionally attached to the various creatures.

Recently, two little toads have taken up residence in the retaining wall by our front walkway. Most days, all day, you'll see them sitting side by side doing whatever it is that toads do. Maria will stop each time we leave the house, squat down and oh and ah over them.

This morning however, Maria was feeling a bit blue when we left to run errands. Lately, she's really been missing her best friend from Guatemala and this morning was no exception. As much as she loves her new family and new life here in Arkansas, she has experienced a deep and profound loss. One that I can't fix, as hard as I try.

So as we walked out the door and spotted the toads I told Maria that I had a great name for them...Nayeli and Maria...because they're best friends. And here they are:

Simply stated: Everyone needs a really good friend to just hang with.

Alex's Run in with the Law.

2008-07-21T05:41:00.000-07:00

Got your attention, didn't I?

First things first though. The second phase of the floor project is almost done. It's a beautiful thing! I'll post pictures when all of the finishing touches are done. However, between work on Friday and Saturday and putting the house back together, there hasn't been a whole lot of time for blogging.

So, I'm diverting you over to Alex's blog. He had a much more interesting day than the rest of us yesterday. I wish y'all could hear Alex tell the story in person. We were are all laughing. You know the kind of laugh with tears and snorts. Just click here to read more: http://lupka31.com/?p=9

Simply stated: I hope you enjoy hearing from Alex.

What were we thinking?

2008-07-17T14:29:00.000-07:00

The flooring in our home has long been a source of frustration and discontent for both Don and I. The combination of hardward, poorly installed ceramic tile, vinyl, and carpet (often a mixture of two or more in the same room!) not only made the house look smaller and made arranging furniture difficult, it is just...plain...ugly. We carpeted downstairs earlier this year and the results were amazing. But like most home improvements, this only served to spotlight how horrendous the rest of the house looked. But now, due to the untimely yet profitable demise of our brick mailbox, which met the wrong end of a trash truck, we finally have some money to put towards redoing the floors.

It all started with a trip to Home Depot (or the Orange Store as Maria calls it) and a pallet of discontinued wood laminate flooring for 99 cents a sq. foot. We crunched the numbers and we had enough money. So early Saturday morning as I shuffled off to Hobby Lobby, Don and Zack began tearing out the ceramic tile in the dining room. I know many of you cringe at the idea of tearing out ceramic tile because it is the hot choice for flooring these days. Not when it's butt ugly. Not when the grout is 1/4" wide in some area and 1/2" wide in other. Certainly not when it cuts a path right through the middle of your living room. The demolition took most of the day and involved multiple trips to the orange store. It also resulted in a thick layer of dust throughout the entire upstairs living area. Upon my return from Hobby Lobby at 9:30 p.m., we spent the next 3 hours dusting. I even had to dust the loaf of bread sitting on the kitchen counter.

By Wednesday afternoon (keep in mind Don has a real job to do while chipping away at our flooring project) the dining room was done, minus the toe molding. It is a true masterpiece.

My window of opportunity for actually enjoying the floors was slammed shut that very same afternoon when Zack, his friend Joel, and Alex began moving the furniture from the living room into the dining room to begin phase two. I guess everyone hates that old floor and wants it out of here. Truth be told, the boys are hoping for a new TV once the renovation is done. Let me know if you want to come climb our money tree in the backyard. Anyway, my dining room now looks like this...

It's almost more than a person can take. As a result the girls and I found reasons to be gone from the house today while more demolition took place. Don gets smarter with every home improvement project and this time he put up plastic to help with the dust. This is what my entry way looks like...

The demolition is almost complete in the living room. Don also tore out the built-in cabinets that were dated and hindered furniture placement. Now the living room, and Don, look like this...

Poor thing. He's so tired. This is a BIG project. Hopefully floor installation will begin tomorrow. If there's a "fun" part to this project, that's it. Don says we'll have to wait awhile to do the hallways. Maybe it will be like child birth. With time he'll forget the pain and want to do it again. Or maybe not.

Simple stated: What were we thinking?

Men vs. Women

2008-07-14T15:13:00.001-07:00

The Chalupka girls were in a bit of a quandary today. After a busy afternoon of shopping for birthday gifts for some cousins, clothes for back to school, and a few groceries for tonight's dinner (enchiladas), Maria was practically bursting at the seams to get into "the little pool." This is how she refers to our 8' x 3' wading pool complete with an inflatable rim and an actual pump system. You know the type. You probably own one. These blue orbs have surfaced all over suburbia like a mutant strain of crabgrass heralding "we are a family with small children who can't afford a real pool."

While Maria was busy getting ready to take the plunge, Caroline was wading in the pool inspecting the debris that had settled to the bottom. The leaves and sticks, while an eyesore, were not enough to curb her enthusiasm for swimming. The large spiders sprawled out on the bottom, looking very much alive and menacing to our arachniphobic eyes, were a bit more problematic. Before Maria could dip even a single toe into the pool, Caroline was out and dried off, declaring that the pool was unsafe until the spiders could be properly disposed of. I'm quite sure that if she'd had access to a roll of yellow crime scene tape, she would have officially quarantined off the entire pool area. I couldn't disagree with her. This was, of course, more than even the most easy going of six-year-olds could handle and Maria promptly burst into tears.

In my younger and more rigid days of mothering, I probably would have told her to just suck it up. Life's rough, kid. Time and experience, however, have taught me that it's o.k. to be sensitive to a child's disappointments. This doesn't make you less of a disciplinarian. It just makes you a little more human. So we filled the tub with cool water and in she went swimming, bathing suit and all. She didn't play for long, but it was enough.

All that remained was to devise a plan to remove our uninvited pool guests. This off course had to be a strictly hands-off method which did not require me to actually get into the pool or spend an extended amount of time outside...in Arkansas...in the middle of summer. No ideas were forthcoming. Out of desperation, I asked Don a question that I'm now embarrassed to repeat. But, I'll tell you anyway. I asked him if we could use the shop vac to vacuum the bottom of the pool. It is, after all, a wet/dry vac. I'm sure it took every bit of restraint in his weary body not to say something to the effect of "are you an idiot?" But he didn't. He just shook his head and said no. Then he left the room.

Meanwhile, Alex had caught wind of the continuing spiders in the pool crisis. And, seeing as he has a soft spot for crying little sisters, he quietly slipped outside. He returned several minutes later and, in true Alex fashion, matter-of-factly informed me that the spiders were gone. Amazed and in awe, I inquired how he had performed this feat of wonder. He stared at me dumfounded, coincidently the very same look his dad had given me only moments earlier, and stated "uh, with a stick and my hands." Continuing my dimwitted line of questioning, I then asked him if the spiders were still alive. He just shook his head and said no. Then he left the room.

There you have it friends. Just one of the many examples demonstrating the difference between men and women.

Simply stated: I think using the pool cover is a good idea from here on out.

Major Bummer

2008-07-11T14:10:00.001-07:00

I didn't get the job I had been hoping for at LRCA (where two of my crew will attend school this fall). I had turned the outcome of my application and my interview for yearbook advisor position over to God months ago. After all He knows what's best for me and my family. I had even talked myself into thinking maybe I wouldn't take the job if it was offered. Well it wasn't and rejection hurts. Zack (who is a major player on the yearbook staff) cheered me up a bit by saying that the new person better be good or he would quit. Thanks for being on my side, son.

It's crunch time for career planning. Do I stay at Hobby Lobby and increase my hours? On the upside of this job it does offer some flexibility with little stress. It does, however, require working one evening and every other Saturday in addition to school hours. Or do I find something else? The downside to this is that no one's offering me anything. Maybe a reality check is in order. I think I'm facing a little mid-life crisis here. Perhaps some shopping therapy is in order. But that will have to wait cause right now I need to get ready for work. *sigh*

Simply stated: What do I want to be when I grow up?

Randomness

2008-07-10T13:15:00.000-07:00

We've made it home. And with 2,800 miles of driving time, I've had plenty of opportunities to ponder the world around me. And, since I was born woefully lacking any ability to self-censor my thoughts before they become public, I will now share my epiphanies with you.

First, the amount by which a person knowingly and willfully exceeds the posted speed limit is directly proportionate to the proximity to ones home. I tried to be responsible about my lead foot (maybe that's where that extra 50 lbs. hangs out) and only drive 5 miles above the speed limit. This was not hard to do since Caroline regularly inspected my speedometer. At one point she proudly proclaimed "Wow, Mom you're actually going the speed limit." My rate of speed is one of those do as I say, not as I do issues. I'm not proud, but I'm nothing if not honest. Anyway, my speed limit plus 5 method was sufficiently fast until home was within a few hundred miles. I won't detail numbers as it might incriminate me, but I will tell you that I made the 6-hour trip from Nashville to Little Rock in 5 hours and 20 minutes.

And speaking of driving, people need to move out of the passing lane on our highways and interstates. I will admit to a touch of road rage when caught behind slow people in the "fast" lane. I tried to keep my name calling to minimum using words such as "moron" and "idiot." Then I came up with the Move Over song, sung to the tune of "Ten in the Bed." It was a crowd favorite among my passengers.

And speaking of songs, you can never have too many CD's on a roadtrip. My CD case never made it from the Suburban to the Pilot. I think it's in the "bag of junk from the old car to sort through and see what goes in the new car" that's stashed in the laundry room. This left us with Sarah Bareilles and High School Musical II. Now, I will admit to being a closet HSM fan. In fact, I love all sorts of show tunes. But even the best of soundtracks start sounding like nails on a chalkboard after five continuous hours. I needed something to keep me awake. We got smart on the way home and picked up the WOW 2007 CD and the soundtrack to Camp Rock. Which, in my humble opinion, is not nearly as good as HSM!

And while we're on the topic of staying awake, the human jaw was not designed to chew gum for 12 straight hours. It's seems I'm genetically wired to be sleepy (chronic anemia doesn't help), and anytime I sit for more than 30 minutes without moving I begin to doze off. Note: sleepiness is not to be confused with laziness. They are two very different syndromes. Anyways, for obvious reasons this is a problem when being the sole driver on a long road trip. Chewing gum, however, provided just enough movement to keep my eyes open. Not sure how the two actions work together but I never fell asleep at the wheel. I just can't move my jaws.

Staying with the tired theme, why is it that long car rides will suck every last bit of energy from an adult while at the same time acting as some form of energy drink for the kids. Each night I'd drag myself up to the check-in desk at the hotel looking every bit the part of the exhausted traveler. Behind me the girls would hop, skip, and jump into the lobby squealing "when can we go to the pool, can we go to the pool now, can we, can we, huh, huh?

There is no clever segue for this next observation. Toots never go undetected when traveling with a six-year old.

Speaking of old farts (please forgive me, I couldn't resist)...Grandparents rock! They have an uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane of tasks into an unforgettable adventure. My children's lives are truly enriched by their relationships with their grandparents.

Sitting with sisters and talking about every and anything is some of the best times a girl can have. It doesn't hurt when the waitress spills coke all over one either! I hope that my girls will enjoy each other as adults as much as my sisters and I enjoy each other.

That's it for now. I'll end on a sweet and pleasant note rather than one dripping with sarcasm. Needless to say it was a great trip but it sure is good to be home.

Simply stated: Many the Miles...the end.

Many the Miles #4

2008-07-08T06:48:00.000-07:00

Today is our last day before starting the many miles home. The girls have taken a walk with my dad (Pop) to go see the fish hatchery. I'm starting some laundry and pulling together the parts and pieces of our visit and ~~shoving them~~ placing them neatly into our suitcases. We will be spending our last day trying to catch up with most of my sisters who are spread across Maryland and Pennsylvania, and, like most busy moms have crazy schedules.

We'll be treating ourselves to a Rita's Italian Water Ice today...one of those special east coast treats that we can't find in Arkansas. I will also be trying frantically to figure out what's wrong with our in-car DVD system which has failed us this last leg of the trip. We NEED it for our 10 hour drive tomorrow.

The idea of 18 hours of driving to get home is far from appealing at this point. What is appealing is home itself. Hugs and kisses from Don. Grunts from my boys. Sleeping in my own bed. Driving on familiar streets. Sitting in our recliner. Going to our church. Oh, I could go on and on. These are the things that motivate me to get my girls back in the car.

We've had a wonderful visit. Mimi and Pop have done their very best to spoil my girls which is evidenced by the fact Maria wants to pick up our life in Arkansas (house, friends, church, etc.) and place them right next door Mimi's house. It's one of those hard lessons that all of us girls have learned or been retaught this trip. The joy of visiting with family and friends is, for a brief time, replaced by thoughts of missing them again. After we dropped off Caroline's friend I asked her if the fun of spending time together was worth the pain of having to say goodbye again. Even through her tears she was able to answer, "Yes." All and all we've had a very fun and successful trip. But...

Simply stated: there really is no place like home.

Horses and Buggies

2008-07-04T08:03:00.000-07:00

Good bye birds and bees...hello horse and buggies!

I knew our trip would provide some humorous content for blogging. Our drive yesterday provided some great material.

We were riding through the beautiful Pennsylvania countryside enjoying horse and buggy sightings when the obvious question was asked, "Why don't they drive cars?" I explained that the Amish prefer to live a simple life without modern conveniences that might draw them away from God. Caroline thought the idea was absurd.

We then engaged in a sweet conversation about our relationship with Jesus, our Savior and God, our Creator. My six-year-old niece informed me that parents created their children. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut but I decided to take the conversation a little deeper. Big mistake.

I told Hailey that God created the very first people and that they, indeed, then had children of their own.

"Hey, Aunt Stacie, how DO mommies and daddies make their babies?" Well, umm, cough, sputter, umm "That's a really good question, Hailey. And God has a wonderful plan for how babies are made and I know your mommy wants to tell you that story." I thought that would be enough and was busy congratulating myself with imaginary high fives for having successfully avoided a real answer when the conversation continued...

"Hey, Aunt Stacie, how do babies eat?" This led to a discussion about, belly buttons, umbilical cords, and a natural segue into breast feeding. This elicitied an empassioned "o, yuck" from Maria. And then, of course...

"Hey, Aunt Stacie, how do babies poop and pee in their mommy's tummy?" which required another gently worded answer and another "o, yuck" from Maria.

At this point the big girls were snickering and I had begun to glisten with nervous sweat. A quick inventory through my arsenal of parenting tricks led me straight to the fine art of distraction. Food and a pit stop!

Once back on the road, the conversation was a distant memory (I hope for my sister's sake) for my younger passengers, replaced by mouthfuls of chocolate chip cookies. Myself, well, I'm a little scarred yet a little smarter by the whole exchange.

Simply stated: Nothing is simply stated when you're talking to an inquisitive six-year-old.

Many the Miles #3

2008-07-04T06:52:00.000-07:00

Newville, PA

Woo hoo! We made it to Dad and Mom's house...safe and sane. We arrived last night around 6:30 p.m after an uneventful four-hour drive from the beach in Delaware. What a wonderful two days we had being spoiled by Aunt Karen and Abby, watching Maria enjoy new experiences, and listening to Caroline and Jenna go on and on about absolutely nothing.

Maria's favorite part of our visit was looking for seashells with Aunt Abby and playing in the sand at the beach. The waves were big and the water cold so she wasn't really impressed by the ocean itself. Caroline experienced a nasty wipe-out while standing in the surf. Unfortunatley this happened within our first 5 minutes on the beach. She spent the better part of the next two hours trying to discreetly dislodge rocks from her swimsuit and nursing her bruised and scraped leg. Caroline did, however, enjoy the boardwalk on Wednesday evening. Shopping, rides, and games. Could there be a better setting for sharing with your best friend? I've got lots of wonderful photos but I have no way to show them now. I think we'll do a slide show when we get home.

So far we've seen two of my four sisters. We'll see sister three today and four tomorrow. Lots of family fun to come. I'm really missing my men today and wishing they were here, especially my main man. Once the sisters and cousins arrive I'll get distracted and won't be so homesick. Maria is watching a movie by herself. I think she's enjoying a little downtime after the constant whirlwind of activity. Caroline and Jenna continue to carry on about absolutely nothing! Remember those days of hanging with your best friend with life was care-free and everthing was hysterical?

Simply stated: More updates later.

Many the Miles...Day 2

2008-06-30T12:57:00.001-07:00

We've completed day two and about 950 miles of our journey. So far so good. I mean really good. Everyone is getting along well and working very hard to be helpful and accommodating to each other's needs. There was one moment shortly into this mornings drive when Maria declared "I feel like I'm going to throw up." (Insert horror movie theme music here). We quickly threw a plastic bag at her and made quick work of getting her some breakfast. I think two hours of driving up and down winding mountain roads on an empty stomach was more than she could take. Those of us who are blessed to never get car sick forget that others might not be quite as hardy.

We are staying the night here in Wilson, NC where we are impatiently waiting for our good friends, the Roberts, to bring Caroline her partner in crime for the remainder of the trip. We'll have dinner together and then an early night because the beach awaits us tomorrow. Maria has never seen the beach and I can't wait to introduce them.

We've navigated the trip pretty well so far especially since my car has a Donstar system. Not Onstar but DONstar. At the push of the speed dial on my cell phone, Don has been at the ready with his laptop to make sure we are where we are supposed to be. The directions off the highway to both hotels have been a little off so Donstar to the rescue. I love modern technology.

I've listened to several movies during our two days, although I've now figured out how to work my sound system so I can listen to music separately from the girls' movie. Before I discovered this nifty trick I listened to Madagascar and Black Beauty. Some lines just seem funnier when they're merely listened to and not accompanied by pictures. Lines such as "If you have poo, throw it now" or "what's a little bite on the butt among friends". My favorite though is "Do I need to come down there and put the whoopin' on all y'all." I can already hear myself using that line at home!

I've enjoyed my blogging break but my back is to the girls in a hotel at in the middle of nowhere. Probably not the best parenting. I'll blog-in with you later.

Simply stated: So far so good.

My Bizarre Commute Home

2008-06-27T21:34:00.001-07:00

I had a "business meeting" tonight at the Hob-Lob. The meeting time, 8:30 - 10:00 p.m., would normally provide for a quick commute home. The short 3-mile drive should have been uneventful and brief given the time of night. I didn't, however, calculate into my estimated commute time the topless, drunk women on the street corner near our house. As I sat at the stop sign, my options racing through my mind, she stumbled into the street. There was seemingly no other option. I had to do something before she got herself killed.

I rolled down my window a few inches and asked if she needed help. Duh. She said she needed a ride to her house just a few streets away. She volunteered that her boyfriend had done something but stopped short of making any accusations that she might later regret. I thought to myself...she's wearing jean shorts, a bra, and a bath towel...how armed and dangerous can she be? I sent up a quick prayer for protection and invited her to get in. I think my blood alcohol level spiked just by breathing in what she exhaled upon taking up residence in the seat beside me. I placed a quick call to Don letting him know what was going on and subtly asked him to stay on the line while we drove the mile or two to her house.

I asked her if home was safe and if she needed me to call the police. She answered yes and no, respectively. I asked her if she'd been drinking. Duh. I asked if she was sober enough to take care of herself to which she assured me she was. She then went on to state that she just needed to get home and get her car keys so she could go pick up her friend. WHAT?!?!?! I reminded her that she was drunk and could not drive anywhere and asked if I could pick up her friend. She, of course, told me no and that she wouldn't drive anywhere.

I asked her who was at home. No one. If by no one she meant several stumbling people milling around the outside of the house, then she would be correct. One half-dressed gentleman came out to the street when we pulled up. I quickly locked my door. He stood staring vacantly through the driver's side window until my passenger was able to muster enough balance to get out of the car. Once she shut the door I drove off, not nearly as quickly as I would have like to.

After all of the adrenaline started to make its retreat from my bloodstream, my next thought was I need to do more. What if she got in her car and drove somewhere? What if her boyfriend came back to finish what he started? When I got home I called the non-emergency number for the police. I told the communications officer what had happened. He asked numerous questions about descriptions and locations, seemingly nonplussed by the fact that a half-naked women was wondering around out in the middle of nowhere. Without missing a beat he asked if she was wearing a bra, as if this is a question he asks everyday. This struck me both as absurd and tragic. He asked if I wanted an officer to go to the address. I don't know, I replied, I just thought someone should know what was going on. He said he would send a car out to check on it.

I don't know why our paths crossed tonight. It was a "sobering" reminder of what alcohol can do to a person. In my overactive imagination, I like to think that I was able to do some small part in averting tragedy...either hers or someone elses. Maybe I just gave a drunk a ride home. I'll never know.

Simply stated: I did what I thought Jesus would do. I hope it was enough.

Many the Miles

2008-06-27T17:16:00.000-07:00

The post-it-notes that have adorned Maria's headboard for the past week as a visual countdown to our roadtrip reveal only one night to go. I have mixed emotions as I contemplate and prepare for our sojourn. I've never driven this far without Don. I have often wondered if I could make it back east on my own. Here's my chance. I'm excited and scared spitless all at the same time.

Our girls only trip will encompass 12 days and 2,800 miles. Our pilgrimage will take us into Tennesse where we will spend our first night after 8 hours of driving. We will continue on to North Carolina where we will pick up Caroline's bestfriend, Jenna. At this point my co-pilot will transform into a giggling tweener. I wonder if Maria can read a map?

The next morning we will head out bright and early to drive to my Aunt Karen and Abby's house in Delaware where we will sleep in clean beds and shower in pristine bathrooms. The thought of their home after having stayed two night in hotels makes me positively giddy. We, along with my six-year-old niece, Hailey, will enjoy their hospitality and the beach for two days before heading to Pennsylvania where we will hang out with Dad and Mom, the sisters and cousins. The trip from Delaware to Pennsylvania, although comparatively short to the other legs of our journey, will consist of me, and only me, accompanied by 4 little girls. Whose idea was this trip?

After 6 days with Mimi and Pop, the sisters and cousins, it will be time to begin the long road home. Our trip home will take us through Virginia and back through Tennesse for one last night at the Marriott. Then home sweet home.

How do I plan to drive these many miles with just me and my girls?

10. With my new Sarah Bareilles CD blasting our trip theme song, Many the Miles. Caroline has mandated that we can only play the song once an hour.

9. With Lots of DVDs. Our Honda Pilot has a built in DVD player of which I plan to take full advantage. The children's minds may be mush and I may lose a few precious years of sanity but everyone should arrive alive.

8. With my cell phone at the ready for those moments when I'm feeling sleepy or lonely. My mom has already instructed me to call her and check in several times each day.

7. With a box full of coloring books, toys, CDs and whatever else Maria thinks she'll need to stay busy.

6. With another box full of snacks.

5. With a 3-ring binder of maps and our itinerary meticulously prepared by Don. It will be like having Don right there in the car, minus the cracking of pistachio nuts. And minus someone else to drive. And without his innate sense of direction. And sense of adventure. Ok, it's not like he'll be with us at all. I wish he were going.

4. By restricting fluid for all members of our travel party. We may arrive at our destinations a bit dehydrated but you know I have issues with public bathrooms. Maria said yesterday that she wished we could have a potty right there in the car so we didn't have to use other bathrooms. She really is my child!

3. With a cooler full of Diet Coke. #4 doesn't apply to me. I'm driving and I need caffeine. I will not give in to whimpering pleas for liquids.

2. With pure determination to make it back east so that I can spend precious hours visiting with my family. I'm really hoping that this will be a trip that Caroline (and maybe Maria but she's so young) will remember for years to come.

1. With lots of prayer. I don't think I could have made this trip 10 years ago. But I am confident in my God who holds my future in the palm of His hands. Whatever happens does not take Him by surprise. That is very comforting.

So tomorrow we leave. I'd like to tell you that I'll be blogging along the way, but I don't have a laptop. How sad is that? I'll try and post when I'm somewhere with a computer. If you think of us this week feel free to say a prayer.

Simply Stated: Are we there yet?

The boys are away...

2008-06-25T14:59:00.001-07:00

...so the girls will play. Don is in Minneapolis on business. Zack is on his second of back-to-back mission trips. Alex is making himself scarce by either working, housesitting, or honing his hacker skills. Yes, my friends, be afraid...be very afraid.

So the estrogen-packing members of our family have been left to entertain ourselves. We've done so by crafting, shopping, and a free movie thrown in to break up the monotony.

Our first project involved using strips of fabric to decorate flip-flops (1/2 price at Hob-Lob this week) to make ~~weird~~ funky footwear. These will be our summer "house shoes" since we don't wear our street shoes in the house. And yes, big surprise here, I have great issue with wearing shoes in the house that have ever set foot outside. Have you ever taken a moment to look at the ground and actually see what you walk on? Just thinking about it makes we want to throw-up a little. Gotta move on.

Next we made a new and super summery flower arrangement for the bedside table in the girls' room. The flowers were on clearance at Hobby-Lobby and every time somebody came through my line to buy them, I thought of my girls. I just had to bring some home. And, oh, how I love a good sale.

Speaking of good sales...I got this fabulous skirt at Kohl's for $4.80 (regularly $48.00)! Caroline and I both agreed that I couldn't afford not to buy it. I know however, that Don will not agree with our flawed logic. But, hey, he's not here! Unfortunately for my debit card, I don't have a top to go with this skirt which will require...more shopping. Tomorrow is another day.

Our free movie was Shrek III. I'm glad it was free because it wasn't worth the price of gas to drive to the theater. Now I'm far from prudish and I can laugh at "potty" humor with the best of 'em. This movie, however, was over the top including portraying one of the step-sisters from Cinderella as a cross-dresser. 'Nuf said.

I think we're in for the evening, although the dog does need food. If he get's too hungry, I'll give him a bowl of cereal. If it's good enough for Maria's dinner it's good enough for Shorty!

Simply stated: I love summer!

Ouch, my aching ego!

2008-06-24T06:50:00.000-07:00

How is it that Don and I both gave up careers for ministry and Don was able to pick up where his career left off while I'm schlepping fun-foam and wiggly eyes for a living? Why is it that his career wardrobe includes grown up clothes and a brief case while mine is accessorized by a blue smock and a feather-duster?

Don't get me wrong. Hobby Lobby is, bar none, one of my favorite stores. In fact, the girls and I will be trolling the aisles today for some great sales. For those of you who have never experienced a Hob-Lob, it's like the Mecca of the crafting community. I'm not sure how many square feet of retail space it fills, but it's some where between the size of a grocery store and a Home Depot. I know this because I have walked it from one end to the other many a nights frantically trying to find a home for an item that a customer had carelessly and randomly tossed aside because they changed their mind and were too darn lazy to put it back. No bitterness here! I was once that customer. After all, don't they pay "people" to put those things away? I am that person. I have now repented of my thoughtless retail ways. In fact, I've caught myself restocking (or "recovering" as we say in the retail biz) in stores that I don't even work in!

But I digress. Our store is loaded with crafting supplies, home accents, candles, sewing notions, florals, and all sorts of "must-haves" for crafters, home decorators, and...me. I don't actually mind the work or the people that I work with. It's just a bit humbling. Most of my "colleagues" and managers are much younger and more knowledgeable about store procedures than I am. I'll often find myself asking an associate the age of my sons what they would like me to do or how I should process a transaction. What a gal won't do to make her car payment.

And then there are the customers. Most of whom are very nice. After all, shopping at our store is for the most part fun and stress-free. Except for the vacant-eyed and weary parents who come into our store the day before a school project is due, paying out obscene amounts of money to make sure little Johnny or Susie get an "A" on the project that they waited until the last minute to start. In general, our customers are courteous and amicable. There's just that look that they give me. Or maybe it's the look that my ego perceives they are giving me. The look that says, perhaps you should have gone to college and gotten a real job for a woman your age.

If I had my way, my name tag would read:
"Welcome to Hobby Lobby. My name is Stacie. I have a college degree. I had a career. I've got skills. I have a portfolio filled with my graphic design pieces and letters of gratitude from employers and satisfied customers. I gladly gave it up for ministry and motherhood. I have no regrets. So quit looking at me like I'm a loser and swipe your credit card."

Simply stated: Thank you for shopping at Hobby Lobby and have a nice evening.

My Sweet Husband

2008-06-23T13:50:00.000-07:00

Don left for his weekly travel this morning. He left a day early and left us girls sitting in our pajamas and feeling totally unmotivated. In the few short moments that I saw him this morning he did manage to touch my heart in a way that only the love of my life could do.

He had left for the airport a little earlier than planned to make an urgent stop at the store for more Chigger-X. This is a miracle cream of sorts that helps to relieve the itch caused by chigger bites. Unfortunately for Don, the chiggers love him.

Not 20 minutes later the door opened and in walks Don. Uh-oh, what did you forget I inquired. He came out of our room slipping his wedding band on his finger. "My ring." It seems that in his itch-induced haste to get out of the door that morning he had forgotten to put it back on. Knowing my insecurities like only Don does, he knew that if I were to discover his wedding ring left behind I would have concocted all kinds of scenarios for why he would have forgotten it. Don realizes that his traveling is hard on me and my wild imagination and he wanted to make sure I had no reason to doubt him. So much so that he didn't even have time to get the Chigger-x.

I'll have to pray this week that God will reward this man with a miracle and make his two-day supply of Chigger-x last all week. You know He can do it!

Simply Stated: Don, your sacrifice was noticed and appreciated. Love you!

My Dad

2008-06-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

I didn't know what to get my dad for Father's Day. After all, what do you buy an ex-Suburbanite who has returned to his red-neck roots out in the Pennsylvania countryside? Give the man an acre of land and his John Deere tractor and call it heaven. So instead of the traditional Father's Day tie or mug, I decided to write a blog about this incredible man. I'll try and keep it brief but there is much that I could say.

I don't know a lot about my Dad's childhood. The facts I do have are ones that do not make for an idealic boyhood. Not that you'd every hear my Dad speak poorly of his parents or his upbringing. I think my dad chooses to reflect instead on the benefits of growing up in the country when life was simpler. Rather than play victim to the circumstances of his childhood, my dad made the choice to do better for himself and for his family. He broke the cycle to create a loving and nurturing environment for his children. For that reason, he is my hero.

I'm far more acquainted with my dad's parenting years because, well, I was there. He loved sacrificially during our childhood, denying himself hobbies and leisure to divide himself among his professional responsibilities and the demands of a wife and five daughters. I think Dad would be the first to admit that much of the day to day stuff of life he willingly deferred to my Mom (for which he gives her much credit). There where, however, many roles that only Dad could fill: coaching softball ("you throw like a girl!") dying Easter eggs, carving pumpkins, decorating Christmas trees, after dinner wrestling, driving to no place special, and creating art projects just to name of few. These were the moments that let us know that Dad didn't merely endure our presence in his world, but that he enjoyed engaging with us. In these memorable yet subtle ways, he made known to us that we were people of value and that we were loved. For that reason, he is part of my heart.

I also had the privilege of knowing my dad in a role that few children do, as a boss and co-worker. Dad gave me my first "real" job in the professional world. He taught me well and expected much. He taught me that anything worth doing is worth doing with excellence. I will always reflect on my days (sometimes 36 hours straight!) of working alongside of my dad as the best of my career. I will never forget how proud I was when Dad would take me on appointments and introduce me to his clients. It was such an honor do be know as "Steve's daughter." But above all else my dad instilled in me the importance a strong work ethic. He accomplished this in a way that makes my dad a true man of integrity. Not with words, but by example. For that reason, he is a success.

And now, as I begin to release my own children into the world, I think I understand and appreciate my dad even more. I know the heart of a parent. I realize that my dad gave himself completely for his family and strived to do better for us than what was done for him. I value the quiet strength and the selfless intentions that guided the decisions that my dad made as we were growing up. I can empathize with his struggles and doubts as a parent. In the end, my dad and mom have raised five little girls to become five strong women. Women who despite our vast differences on religion, politics and life in general, come together time and time again because...we are family. That is an accomplishiment!

I can only hope that 20 some years from now as my children stop to reflect on me as a parent, that they will do so with as much love and respect as I have for this wonderful man, my Dad.

Simply Stated: I love you, Dad!

What Not to Wear...

2008-06-12T17:49:00.001-07:00

We've recently upgraded our cable television to include Disney so we've been watching Pooh and Friends each day. While I think the show is great for children and actually encourages problem solving and critical thinking, I find it disturbing that many of the characters wear shirts and not pants. Wouldn't it be better just to wear nothing like real animals? Or, if clothes are necessary put on a pair of britches!

Simply stated: Does anyone else think of these things or is it just me?

Chicken Pot Pie

2008-06-10T17:39:00.000-07:00

At some point I really do think that all women turn into their mothers. Tonight I took another step toward becoming Joan as I served frozen chicken pot pies to my family for dinner. I'm not really sure what made me do it. It started Sunday at Sam's Club when the green Marie Callender's box caught my eye. Hmmm, chicken pot pie, I thought to myself. Quick to prepare, fairly nutricious and definitely nostalgic. Don was a little hesitant to actually transfer the box from the freezer to our shopping cart but he did it. I'm sure he was even less thrilled when I announced that I would be serving them for dinner tonight and not saving them for one of the nights when he was on the road.

The irony is that I absolutely abhorred chicken pot pie nights at our house when we were growing up. The only meal that was worse was creamed chipped beef on toast which I think my mom only made once. That dinner ended with us girls being sent to our room for not eating what was on our plates followed shortly thereafter by my dad sneaking us food because he too thought that dinner was disgusting.

So, what do you suppose makes us continue the chicken pot pie cycle from generation to generation? Could it be something deeply profound and rooted in our subconscious or it could be pure and simple necessity for a guick and easy meal. It's like a lot of things in life. I'm not sure anyone really enjoys it but it's just what you know. Or maybe I'm just making a big deal out of a little pie. Either way, dinner was served and bellies are full.

Simply stated: We'll be looking for a snack by 9:oo!

Going Under the Knife

2008-06-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

How's that for drama? I did actually have some outpatient surgery yesterday. Something akin to uteran maintenance. While it wasn't fun it did provide some humorous moments that I now get to pass along to you, my cyber friends. And if it fixes my problems it will be well worth a day at the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital at 10:00 for my 12:00 D&C, hysteroscopy, and ablation. The check-in process started by signing the obligatory insurance waivers. And yes, I know I can die during any surgical procedure. Thanks for reminding me. I then proceeded to the lab where the phlebotomist took take 4 tubes of blood and then asked me, the person who hadn't had anything to eat or drink for 16 hours, to pee in a cup. Being the compliant person that I am, well, let's just say I made it happen.

Now usually when you leave a urine sample at the doctors office, you leave your donation in something that looks like a two-way medicine cabinet. You open the door on your side, place your specimen cup on the paper towel and once your door is shut a healthcare professional can open the door on their side and do whatever it is that they do with your pee. I like this method. Very discreet and very hands-off. Not so at the hospital. I guess they figure the humiliation of a hospital visit should start early and often. Instead I had to parade my meagerly-filled cup to my pre-op staging area. Once there I didn't know what to do with it so I just sat it on the counter. As soon as the nurse and lab tech entered my area the nurse made quick work of grabbing a glove and using it pot-holder style to hand over my cup. I really think that in this day and age of medical advancements they could come up with a better pee-pee transport system.

With all of the lab work behind me it was now time to don a hospital gown. The nurse took a quick yet sweeping glance at me and grabbed the gown that had been pre-heating under a blanket. She sheepishly said "Um, I'll be back in a minute with a better gown for you." What she really meant was, wait while I go and get a plus-sized gown for the big girl. I didn't mind so much. I am what I am. Not that I in any way advocate being overweight. At some point I guess you learn to laugh, otherwise you'd cry.

My nurse returned promptly with my new and "improved" gown which I dutifully put on placing all of my other clothes in a bag for Don to keep watch over. I was then instructed to climb into the bed with the heated blanket. A heated blanket sounded rather nice at the moment ... until I crawled in. This heated "thing" was made out a fabric that can best be compared to fabric interfacing. It was quilted with large tube-like channels running through it and small holes that blew out warm air. This was a nice feeling for the first 10 minutes or so and then it became just stinkin' hot. Poking my feet out the bottom helped to keep the heat stroke at bay.

Nurse Number Two then came in to take my vitals and put on the blood-pressure ~~tourniquet~~ cuff. Can anyone tell me when did taking one's blood pressure become so darn painful? I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I have a bruise on my arm from having my blood pressure taken. I think every time I heard the automatic pump begin, my pressure probably rose 20 points. I then got the stickers for my heart monitor (which by the way also left some bruising).

Soon Nurse Number One returned to put in my IV but apparently the veins in my hands stayed home yesterday so instead I got an IV in my arm (which by the way left a VERY LARGE bruise). Finally, all the prep was done and Don got to come back to my pre-op staging area. He prayed for me which made me cry and then we laughed about hospital jargon until we were both crying. Phrases like "mild discomfort" and "a small stick followed by slight stinging." What they are really saying is pain like you've been kicked in the gut by a field goal kicker or a piercing pain by a 3 inch needle followed by burning throughout your extremities. Hey, if they can understate the facts, I can exaggerate them!

Finally, we got a visit from the anethesiologist and with it the final blow to my last remaining shred of dignity. Like each healthcare professional before him, Dr. Sleep rattles off a list of questions and conditions. Nope! I replied to all of them, I'm healthy as a horse (excluding my current status as a hospital patient). I must have gotten a little to prideful because he then asks for my weight...with Don right there in the room AGHHHH! I don't believe in keeping secrets from your spouse...except for that one. So in matter of seconds my closest guarded secret was out there, for Don and the world to know. Through 22 years of marriage I've kept him in the dark. But I'm out now and you know what? He still loves me. All *** pounds of me!

So, a final kiss from Don and I was rolled away to the operating room. I almost started crying when they wheeled me in as the memories of having the three big kids via c-section came flooding back. I just kept thinking I can't cry or I'll get all stuffed up and won't be able to breathe in the anesthesia. Within minutes however I was out for good and my next memory was waking up being rolled down a hallway. That was about it.

We were ready to leave the hospital about an hour later. Once at home, Don and Maria took great care of me. My friend, Emily, watched Maria all day (Caroline is in Branson) and another wonderful friend, Leah, brought us a meal. One pain pill at 8:00 and I was off to dreamland. I woke up this morning feeling great. By the way, I just got the call from the Doctor that all of the pathology reports came back fine. Thank you, Lord. All in all it wasn't a bad experience. I'm just glad it's over with and we can get on with the summer.

Simply stated: Beware on nosey anesthesiologists!

The Things We Do For Love...

2008-06-04T13:40:00.001-07:00

Finally...after almost two years without a real haircut...the time has come to cut Caroline's hair for Locks of Love. It's seems like we've been measuring her hair every other day to see if it's grown to the mandated 10 inches to be able to donate. And she made it!

Here's the before picture.

and the back. Wow, that's a lot of hair. It had gotten so long and thick that it took both of us to brush it after a shower or the pool.

This is our friend Amy from church making that first brutal cut. Her salon (a very nice one I might add) donates a haircut when you donate your hair to Locks of Love. Thanks Amy!

It took 3 pony tails to cut off that thick mop of hair but it's gone, gone, gone.

Here they are...the beauty and the beauty maker.

And here she is...my sweet Caroline. It's bittersweet to see her looking so beautiful and grown up. It's especially poignant tonight as she officially leaves the children's ministry at church to join big brother Zak with the student ministry.

More important though, than her stylin' new do and her radiant smile is the compassionate, servant's heart that continues to grow inside of this dear child of mine. I can not tell you the number of times that I encouraged her to cut off her hair before she could donate it just because it was too big of a hassle. But nope, she stood firm in her desire to give something of herself to someone less fortunate. I pray that God will continue to grab a hold of this precious child of His and use her in mighty ways.

Simply stated: I love being Caroline's mom!

Hallelujah!

2008-05-28T16:27:00.000-07:00

Alex got his haircut!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How sad is it that Alex's haircut is my big news of week? Hmmm, I don't think I want to ponder that thought much longer...makes my life seem...well, a little pathetic.

Simply stated: 'nuf said!

Never say never...

2008-05-28T11:36:00.000-07:00

I've learned my lesson and will never say never again (preceeding sentence excluded).

I realized it was time to remove "that word" from my vocabulary when I asked Don, with some urgency, to go buy a trampoline for the girls a few weekends ago. You see, years ago in my once firmly grounded maternal opinions I had said we would never own one. Yet here it is, in all of it's blue and gold glory towering over the ~~weeds and moss~~ grass and shrubbery in our backyard. But the girls love it and it's great exercise.

This isn't the first time I've been bitten in the behind by my use of "that word." When my boys were little I boldy proclaimed that they would never own guns, especially of the BB variety. But there I was on Alex's 13th birthday accompanying him into the store to buy a BB gun with his own money. I remember well the irony of the moment because Alex couldn't actually carry the gun out of the store since he was a minor. Instead his responsible and firearm phobic mother had to schlep the box out to the get-away car. Now both boys have BB guns, potato guns, marshmallow guns and paintball guns. Guns 'r' us!

Education is another area replete with broken promises of never. Back in Maryland where the schools were good and education was important to our politicians (snotty tone intentional), I never saw the need to homeschool or even worse **gasp** pay...for...private...school. Yet here we find ourselves in Arkansas, doing both.

I don't know what, if any, is the lesson in all of this. What I've come to realize is that the use of the word never is a bit egotistical and for the most part excludes God's divine plan for our lives. I'm sure I said I would never move away from my extended family and the east coast, yet here we are living in Little Rock. I know I said we would never have more children after Caroline was born and we took permanent measure to insure we would have the final say on the matter. But somehow God saw fit and found a way to add to our family. I'm so glad His ways are not our ways.

I do know at least one exception to the never say never rule, one that I know God finds pleasing. And that is, I will never leave Don. The marriage covenant is based on never leaving and forever cleaving to one another. What a wonderful design God had for marriage!

It almost seems as though when I say never, God's ears perk up and He smiles and thinks to Himself "we'll just have to see about that!" So instead of "never" I think "whatever" might be the better attitude...one that leaves us open to a blessed and abundant life.

Simply stated: Be careful what you say "never" to!

It's just so sad...

2008-05-22T18:32:00.000-07:00

While I was doing my 2:00 a.m. email check and blog stalking, I saw a post that the young daughter of one of our favorite singers, Steven Curtis Chapman, had been killed in a horrible accident at their home. During a day of great family celebration with the recent engagement of the Chapman's oldest daughter and the high school graduation party for one of their teenage sons, their 5 year old daughter was accidentally struck and hit while playing in their driveway by an SUV driven by one of the teenage sons. Their daughter's name was Maria and she was apparently a precious child. She was the Chapman' s youngest daughter and their third daughter adopted from China. Sometimes other peoples tragedies stop you for a moment and other times it causes one great pause. This one has consumed my thoughts today.

Having met Steven Curtis Chapman personally at an adoption conference and having talked to him in great detail about the story of how they come to adopt their Maria, I am even more heartbroken for their loss. Years ago Steven had written a song entitled "Who's Gonna Love Maria" This was long before they met their Maria. Steven graciously autographed a CD for our Maria even before we brought her home. The Chapman's organization also gave us a grant to help pay for our Maria's adoption and so I feel in many ways we have been blessed by a family that we've only met very briefly.

This is a two-fold tragedy now that the Chapman's are dealing with the loss of a beloved daughter and also undoubtedly the grief and guilt of their son. Having sons of similar ages my heart breaks for this dear boy and how his life has been altered. I pray that the faith this family was built on will carry them through the rough days to come.

This is a startling reminder of how quickly the landscape of our lives can change and how every moment is precious. May we not stop praying for this sweet and generous family.

Simply stated: Tell somone you love them tonight.

Sunshine or Quiet

2008-05-18T14:33:00.001-07:00

It's Sunday afternoon and Don is sitting outside reading the paper while the girls jump on the trampoline...or jumpoline as Maria calls it. I'm finishing up some Taco Soup to take to community group and I have a tough choice to make. Go outside and enjoy the sunshine or stay inside where it's just me, no one else, all by myself. Tough decision, huh?

Well, we have an hour until community group so maybe I'll split the difference and spend a half an hour inside and half an hour outside. Or maybe I'll clean. So much to do and so little time.

I've decided. My girls will only be jumpin' on the trampoline for a few short years before they're out and about like the boys. I'd better be gettin' outside!

Simply stated: Peace and quiet will come way too soon.

My sweet, sweet girl!

2008-05-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

This week is a little crazier than normal for us. It's our last week of Awana which is a lot more work for me and includes an appreciation dinner for our leaders and volunteers as well as an awards ceremony. It basically means that we practically live at church from Monday through Wednesday. Both of the girls have been real troopers so far this week and have blessed me beyond words. Just when I thought these two precious girls of mine couldn't be any sweeter, Caroline proves me wrong. (This story will reveal another one of my "issues" but it's worth telling because it was just too darn sweet.)

We got home around 8:30 p.m. after a long day at church. I know you'll think I'm exagerating but this house is truly a wreck. Every room has the remnants of the projects I've been working on for this week and haven't had time to clean up after. It's been so busy that Caroline simply wrote "food" on the grocery list.

Anyway, I realized that I hadn't made my bed which really bums me out. It just feels gross to get into an unmade bed. Who knows what could have landed there during the course of the day? I left the room to get a phone call and came back to find that Caroline had made my bed for me. I think Caroline really understands me. (I wonder which one of my issues she'll discuss first with her therapist).

I know you read my blog, sweet girl. Your momma loves you and thanks you!

Simply stated: Children are a gift from the Lord!

Some Simple Things I Find Very Satisfying

2008-05-13T19:43:00.000-07:00

I found this idea on another blogger's site and thought I'd try this out for myself.

Folding warm towels right out of the dryer.
Singing praise songs ... really loud ... by myself.
Back scratches.
The smell of new tires (I know, we've been down this road before).
Coming home.
My morning diet coke -- straight from the can.
Our bed ... especially with clean sheets.
Vacuum cleaner lines in the carpet.
Knowing everyone is safe at home for the night.
A perfectly carbonated diet coke.
Listening to Caroline and Maria giggling.
Children praying.
Sunday lunch after church.
My last diet coke before bed. (hmmm. This may be more of an addiction)
"Drop out days" where we agree to accomplish nothing.

The list could go on and on but now it's your turn. Let me know some of your simple pleasures.

Simply stated: Life is good.

Updated "Non-Mom"

2008-05-13T19:30:00.000-07:00

Our voices were heard...power to the people! Within hours of receiving my email, and countless others just like it no doubt, I received an apology from Teleflora and a statement that they were changing the name of the category to Adopting Moms. I think this was a great move on their part. Given the short time frame to the actual broadcast of the contest results show, I don't know how much more they could have done. Sometimes all a person wants is a sincere apology.

Some adopted parents feel strongly that we shouldn't be in a separate category at all. I'm still trying to form my opinion on that one. While I understand the thought process behind this argument (we're all mothers) I do think that the adopted mom role is different. This next statement is important....different is NOT bad and it is NOT inferior. It's just...well...different.

Mothering an adopted child has been one of the greatest personal growth experiences for me. I don't take the privilege of being Maria's mom for granted. It is a priceless gift that came at a much greater emotional and financial cost than with my older children. It has made me think more about my actions as a mom rather than reacting purely on emotion and knee-jerk reactions. I'm certainly not doing it perfectly, but I know that I'm parenting much more intentionally than ever before.

I love all of my children equally but I love them all differently as well. Bio or adopted, there's no sweeter name than "Mom."

Simply stated: Different is not bad, it's just different.

Apparently I'm a "non-mom"

2008-05-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

Although I have strong opinions on most everything, I seldom act on those opinions by writing letters or boycotting companies. The time has come to speak up!

Teleflora along with some other sponsors (such as NBC) are having an America's Favorite Mom contest where you choose your favorite mom candidate from several different categories. I was appalled, irate, enraged (I can't find the right word) when I read that adoptive moms are in the "non-mom" category. OMG! The previous sentence screams of ludicrousy!

I immediately sent an email to Teleflora (fortunately...for them...I only had 300 characters so my rant was limited). I wrote the following:

"As an adoptive mom I am truly offended by your recent Mother's Day contest featuring adoptive moms in the "non-Mom" category. We are real mom's with real children. My adopted child has the same privileges (in my heart and in the courts) as my children by birth. This view of adoptive mom's as "non-moms" is hurtful and harmful to every adopted child and the adoptive community. Your carelessness sends the message that these children are somehow less than their peers who had the advantage of being born into their families. Please reconsider this category in future promotions and perhaps educate yourselves on proper adoption terminology and etiquette. Thank you for your time."

I'll have to stew on this and write more later. I'm so mad I can hardly see straight...or spell.

Simply Stated: I'm glad I used 1-800-Flowers to send our Mother's Day gift!

17 Years Ago Today...

2008-05-06T20:14:00.001-07:00

our Zachary John came into the world. What a blessing he is! We had a nice dinner and invited Zack's friend Elizabeth and our family friend Benjamin to join us. Don is in Chicago and Alex had to work. Even with them missing it was a great evening of laughing and fun conversation.

I've been thinking back on Zack's childhood a lot today and realizing how much of his personality showed up with him that May morning and hasn't changed much since. For instance...

...there's the hair thing. Zack has always been a bit ~~freakish~~ particular about his hair. Ever since that first ill-fated crew cut, the need to be in control of his hair has been of utmost importance to Zack. Remember the adorable bowl cut?

...there's the audio-video thing. When Zack was about 9 he just wanted to be able to play music so we got him a Karaoke machine for his birthday. He never sang along with it but I know he had it wired for sound. He was dubbed "Mix-Master Zack" by my sister, Leslie. Now his room is filled with a 50 inch rear projection TV, audio mixers, computers, and ipods. Most Sunday's you'll find him in the sound booth at church.

...there's the "wheels" thing. From pushing around his favorite truck as a toddler to towing a little blue wagon on the back of his bike, Zack has been enamored by anything with wheels. This year's birthday was all about his Jeep...new roof rack, floormats, and even a special dusting brush for keeping the pollen off. He spent most of the afternoon working out in the driveway on his car. How convenient that he had to use my car with the full tank of gas to pick up Elizabeth and drive her home because his car is in a few different pieces. The boy's no dummy! (UPDATE: When Zack got home he handed me a five dollar bill for gas. How cool is that?)

It seems like only yesterday I was listening for his cry in the other room letting me know that he was hungry. Now I sit here typing listening for the chime of the door letting me know that he is home safe. Years have passed and the sounds have changed but the feeling is the same. Pure joy in the pleasure of being Zack's mom.

Simply stated: Happy birthday, my sweet boy!

Prom Picture

2008-05-01T11:40:00.000-07:00

What good is a blog if you can't shamelessy parade pictures of your children into the blogosphere? This is a picture of Zack and Elizabeth going to prom last week. I, unfortunately, missed the big event because I was attending a conference in Chicago. Zack and Don, however, made sure to email and text me lots of photos. They had a wonderful time at prom and are such great kids. They make us proud!

Simply stated: I'm humming the music to "Sunrise, Sunset"

State of our Union

2008-05-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

We've been asked the question often over the past couple of months. "How is Don's job?" (He really likes it by the way). I, on the other hand, have been trying to find an answer that balances the truth with optimism.

I think the heart of the answer actually began about 9 months ago when a little latina tornado entered our world as our firstborn simultaneoulsy left the nest. Change is hard...even good and natural change. And once the change pendulum started to swing it just kept picking up momentum. There was the addition of Maria into our family and the absence of Alex. We homeschooled Caroline and said goodbye to a ministry and co-workers that we loved and respected. Then came Don's job change and new weekly travel schedule. Followed closely by the addition of my part-time job and we've inadvertently created a perfect storm for what feels like merely surviving all the day-to-day demands.

Don and I have developed a divide and conquer battle strategy. Unfortunately, this means that we spend no time together. The good news is that this too shall pass. All of our years of family ministry have taught us that we need to fix this, and fix it fast. We're working on it. (This would be the appropriate time to pick up the phone and offer to keep our girls for an evening:) In the meantime there is great comfort in knowing that Don and I are in this for the long haul and we're ready and willing to do the hardwork to put our marriage back on top of the list of priorities. This is where shared commitment, history, and common goals will prevail over travel schedules, health issues, and pure exhaustion. Notice I intentionally left out the word "love". I love Don with all my being. Love however is an emotion and we know how wishy-washy emotions can be. Now's the time for no-holds-barred commitment and perserverance.

Feel free to ask me the same question in a couple of months when all of the dust of change has settled. In the meantime I'll be doing what I do best to regain control of the mess and mayhem...vacuuming!

Simply stated: Change s*cks! (Please see previous post about appropriate language.)

Gray Matter

2008-04-29T14:53:00.000-07:00

When our kids were younger parenting seemed so black and white. And in my naivete, I was confident and consistence in my expectations for my children. Of course I projected that confidence well into the future proclaiming how I would and wouldn't react when my children became teenagers.

But something happened during the last nineteen years. What once was distinctly black and white has blended into varying shades of gray. Some of the grays are beautiful like the shimmer of platinum. We've found that only by allowing some of these gray areas in to our black and white world of parenting can the strength of character in our teens shine through...despite our differences of opinion on non-essentials such as haircuts, clothing, and appropriate language. (Is "crap" a bad word? Leave me comments and let me know your thoughts).

The other spectrum of the gray scale takes on the onimous darkness of an incoming storm. These are the grays where the stakes are higher and the consequences critical. The ones that deal with their futures, their spiritual health, and their preparedness to thrive independently out in the world. How important are A's on the report card? What is the acceptable alternatives? How long do I continue to do all of their cooking and cleaning and laundry? (a letter of apology to my future daughters-in-law will be forthcoming)

My method of parenting teens, whether right or wrong, seems to be to err on the side of grace. Gone are the easy days of absolutes, replaced by a priority on relationship rather than rules. I'm sure someday I'll be sitting with my children and they'll tell me where I went wrong and hopefully a little of what I did right. Hopefully the hard and fast discipline of the earlier days has taken root deep in their being and will be their compass in the storms. I pray they also know that we are always here for them and nothing can ever take away the love that we have for each of our children. In the meanwhile I'll continue to try and blend grace and boundaries into the perfect shade of gray.

Simply stated: Too bad I just can "ask Sherwin Williams!"

Somebody stop me!

2008-04-17T13:04:00.000-07:00

I've vacuumed a lot of things in my day including using one vacuum cleaner to vacuum another. Today, however, I reached an extreme in my vacuuming career. Let me back up for a second and explain that spring in Arkansas brings pollen and more pollen. It coats everything. When I get in the car after having left it to sit in the driveway for more than a few hours, I have to use the windshield wipers to swoosh away the dusting of pollen. There's no measurable snow in Little Rock but accumulations of pollen we've got. Oh, and if I don't sweep the front steps there will be actual footprints in the pollen (this is not an exaggeration). This in turn gets tracked into the house and then I have to vacuum.

Earlier today I was vacuuming in the kitchen using the dusting attachment. You know doing the blinds and air vents and baseboards and such. Good times...good times. This makes me sound like a good housekeeper which I'm really not. I just really enjoy vacuuming and will choose it over any other household chore.

In the midst of my vacuuming induced trance, I hear Shorty barking at the door to come in. I let him in without incident only to realize that he has been outside for more than 5 minutes and is absolutely covered with pollen. So I vacuumed him. At least I tried. It was more like a dance whereby I have his collar in one hand and the vacuum hose in the other and Shorty spins us both in circles trying to avoid the crazy women with the super sucker. I only got one good swipe at him which left him looking more like a deranged skunk than our beloved family pet. I hope he doesn't have a seizure today. I'll just have to revert back to wiping him down with a damp paper towel every time he comes in the house.

Maria is outside playing now. I've put the vacuum away...just in case.

Simply stated: It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Sing...Sing a Song...Make it simple to last your whole life long...

2008-04-16T23:40:00.000-07:00

I have this little game that I like to play with the kids. Ok, Alex and Zack don't play anymore and find my inclination to break into song just plain annoying. Maria doesn't understand the game just yet but she's in training. So it's really just Caroline now and bless her little soul, she'll indulge all of my quirks. Anyways, I'll ask her to give me a word and see if I can come up with a song that includes that word. Usually I can and if not, well, I just make something up. Sing anything loud enough and with enough enthusiasm and it will sound like a real song. Today's word was "sandwich". Although I couldn't think of a song including the word sandwich I did think of a song about a sandwich...the Big Mac jingle (You know...two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun). Caroline didn't believe it was a real song.

This led me to think about all of the junk that occupies my valuable brain space. Why is it that I can't remember a Bible verse for more than 30 seconds but I can remember TV commercials from 30 years ago? If only I could take out the junk and fill it up with really valuble stuff like scripture or history. Things that would make me seem smart and educated and less like "Rainman."

Here are just a few of the things I would get rid of in my brain dump.

1. The lyrics to Hotel California.
2. The Brady Bunch theme song and all Brady-related trivia. Go ahead. Ask me a question because more than likely I WILL know the answer.
3. Cuss words.
4. Pig Latin.
5. Anything from the Sesame Street Live record. Do you remember that one? It had a picture of Bert on the front doing his John Travolta "Staying Alive" pose.

What would I put in it's place?

1. Things that are lovely and pure.
2. The books of the Bible (I admit it. Sometimes I use the table of contents).
3. All of the states and their capitals. Smart people just seem to know that.
4. Spanish.
5. My 9's times table. I always have to stop and think about those. Or I ask Alex.

I know there's a lot more for both lists but it's 2:24 a.m. and I'm starting to come down off of the sugar buzz from the bowl of chocolate ice cream I ate at 10:00. I need to go to bed. I'll add more to my lists as the thoughts come to me.

Simply stated: A mind is a terrible thing to waste. (See there's another one. It was a slogan for the United Negro College Fund from like 1970...ugh!)

Guinea Pig Theology

2008-04-09T11:56:00.000-07:00

This is Caroline's guinea pig, Pumpkin. She's a sweet and loveable creature. She's also a bit stupid and quite stubborn. As I helped Caroline clean Pumpkin's cage today, it made me think of the similarities between the relationship that Caroline has with Pumpkin and my relationship with my Caretaker. I know it may sound like a stretch, but these are the ways that God reveals Himself to me. So, if you're going to let me ramble on about the humiliating aspects of my life, you should at least allow me to elaborate on the more profound thoughts as well.

I'll start with my revelation about cleaning Pumpkin's cage. We usually try and clean her cage once a week. But it's been crazy busy around here and we went 9 days. The stench coming from the girls' bedroom was quite noxious. Maria actually stumbled backwards, recoiling in disgust as I opened the door to put her in bed last night. What did people do before the invention of Febreeze? The girls slept with the bedroom door wide open to ensure that no one would succumb to the fumes during the night. Obviously we cleaned her cage today.

It's quite an ordeal for Caroline to get Pumpkin out of her cage. As Caroline reaches in, Pumpkin will run around the perimiter of the cage avoiding the very hands that are going to bring relief to the filth that she's been living in. Frustrated, Caroline then has to remove all of the obstacles that allow Pumpkin places to hide leaving Pumpkin feeling exposed and vulnerable. I'm guessing here, Pumpkin hasn't actually given voice to these emotions. Once Caroline has caught Pumpkin she'll calm down and settle in quite well, allowing Caroline to lavish love and affection on her. Do you see where I'm going with this?

How many of us have made such a mess out of our lives, hiding from the very One who can rescue us from the muck and mire? Sometimes He has to remove our hiding places and comfort zones to bring us to a place where we will surrender to His loving care.

I feel the urge to stop and interject some comic relief. My job in the whole cage cleaning process is to actually dump the soiled litter into a trash bag because it is too big of a job for Caroline to do alone. Today's dump definitely involved gagging.

While Caroline has Pumpkin out of the cage (usually with the scratches from the battle) she likes to take the opportunity to hand-feed Pumpkin and just love on her. Recently Caroline had the idea to put her on a leash so that Pumpkin could safely get some exercise and expand her horizons beyond the four walls of her cage. We went to the store and Caroline bought, with her own hard-earned money, a Guinea Pig harness. I know...what will they think of next? Each week Caroline will patiently try and coax Pumpkin into her harness knowing that what feels to Pumpkin like an unwanted restriction will actually result in greater freedom than she's ever know before. Pumpkin, not understanding the better plan, just squeals and carrys on like someone is trying to kill her. Again, do you see where I'm going here?

God has given us His Word and boundaries not to restrict us but because He loves us and wants what's best for us. Sure, Caroline could turn Pumpkin loose to run free in the house and I'm sure Shorty (our dog) would welcome a new "playmate". Caroline, however, loves and cares for Pumpkin way too much to take even the slightest chance that an encounter with Shorty or other death trap might occur. I know, just like Pumpkin, that I can be so stubborn and stupid. (Yes, Maria, I know that stupid is a mean word.) How many times have I left the safety of God's harness to venture out on my own with devastating results? God gives us a free will to accept or decline His offer for safety and security. Safety and security that cost God a huge price. Will I ever quit squealing about it?

I don't know if this makes sense and I certainly don't know whether or not it's sound theology. I think it's safe to say that these thoughts won't make their way into any commentary or volume of Biblical insights. What I do know is that Caroline and I both paused for a moment today to think about God's love and care for us in His instructions for godly living. Thanks, God, for allowing even the mundane tasks in life to speak to us.

Simply stated: There is freedom at the Cross!

What would you have done?

2008-04-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

I think aerobics class is going to be a great source for blogging entries. Class number 2 went fine on Friday although once again I did get pulled aside by the instructor. Apparently I'm not doing my lunges correctly and she's afraid I'll hurt myself. So on Tuesday I'll be doing my leg exercises sitting in a chair. I can hear you laughing!

But that's not the most bizarre thing that happened on Friday. As is my way, I found someone to chat with after class while Maria ran around the multi-purpose room with her "new friends." I was wrapping up my conversation when I fortunately looked up just in time to see Maria sitting on the stage as a little boy threw her back on the floor and proceeded to choke her. I'm talking two hands wrapped around her precious little neck! I think I might have had a bit of an out of body experience because I remember thinking to myself before moving to intercede, "surely that boy is not strangling my child." I quickly made my way to the front and asked what was going on. Maria confirmed that yes indeedy, he was choking her. The boy had no defense. It gets even more bizarre...since I thought I knew who his mom is and I didn't want to cause a scene, I demurely told him that wasn't very nice.

What is the matter with me? I mean my daughter is being choked by some psycho bully and I tell him "that's not very nice." Do I really think he cares? What I should have said was "where is your mother?" and dragged him over to her by his shirt collar. I'm so slow to act in these kinds of confrontational situations. And then I get so mad at myself afterward for not standing up for myself or in this case my child.

The incident did lead to a conversation with Maria about inappropriate ways that people might touch her. We gave her permission and even had her practice yelling as loud as she could "Get off of me!" I only hope that one doesn't come back to bite me in the butt next time I have to grab ahold of her in a store. Seriously though, I think a good lesson came out of it and she knows that no one is allowed to hurt her. She's afraid that he won't be her friend. I explained that real friends don't hurt you and that she needs to stay as far away from him as possible.

Simply stated: What would you have done?

Explaining the rubber tire comment

2008-04-06T20:11:00.000-07:00

I realized after I made that post that not everyone (all 3 of you) who reads my blog may understand the whole rubber tire thing. Allow me to explain.

To put it mildy, I have a very keen sense of smell. This can be good and it can be bad.

It's good since I can diagnose a problem with my car long before it breaks down just because it smells different. Oh, and there was the time the freezer in the garage died with a turkey carcass in it. I could smell something was a bit off in the aromatic balance of my house for days until Don finally went in search of the offending odor just to shut me up. I won't go into the details of what he found but I will tell you that the freezer quickly made its way to the top of the driveway for trash pick up.

My over-sensitive nose can also be a curse because, well, let's face it...life stinks...and then I gag. For instance, when Maria first came home from Guatemala I had to collect a stool sample. It was quite an involved process which I had to explain to Maria...in Spanish. She was much more excited about the plan than I was. First I put plastic wrap on the toilet. (There are so many things wrong with that sentence.) Then Maria proceeded to make her, hmmm, let's call it a deposit. I then had to scoop it with a small plastic spatula into even smaller test tubes. This is when the gagging began quickly followed by vomiting (mine, not Maria's). This traumatized poor Maria so badly that for the next couple of weeks she would ask me not to throw up each time she had to poop. It really is a wonder she's adjusted so well.

Back to the rubber theme. For some reason pregnancy only heightened my already freakish sensitivity to smell. Some women have food cravings when they're pregnant but not me. I had smell cravings and I couldn't get enough of the smell of rubber. Like most obessesions it started out harmless enough. A quick sniff of a rubber ball or back of a mouse pad soon progressed into lingering strolls down the sneaker aisle at the local Payless and clandestine detours through the tire departments at Walmart or Sam's Club. I asked my OB what he thought. He was clueless and retired shortly thereafter. Maybe he'd finally heard it all. I thought labor and delivery would cure my rubber cravings. Not so much. Here I am 12 years post-partum and the obsession as well as the stretch marks remain.

Some of my family just roll their eyes at my quirkiness while others are my enablers allowing me a quick sniff of their tennis shoes before they wear them for the first time. Last year for Mother's Day, Zack bought me a little rubber tricycle tire! So imagine my glee when the dealership put 4 new tires on my car. It's like having the Sam's tire center right in my own driveway!

I could go on about my fedish but I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one post. And don't look at me like that. I know y'all have your own issues and idiosyncrasies. I'm just woman enough to share mine!

Simply stated: I think I've said too much already.

Simple Pleasures

2008-04-02T19:13:00.000-07:00

My new car smells like rubber tires!!!!!!

Simply stated: I may need therapy.

You know you're out of shape when...

2008-04-02T08:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Caroline and I started our first Body and Soul Aerobics class. It was a lot of fun and we did get a good workout. It was also a bit humbling and revealing about my personal fitness level and coordination (or lack there of).

For any of you who have participated in aerobics, you know the scenario. The instructor calls out moves and demonstrates up front while you follow along. Sounds easy enough. Now add some music, pick up the pace, hold in your stomach, try not to trip or pass gas and you've got yourself a workout. While I did manage all of that I couldn't seem to master my left from my right or my forward from backward. Instead I developed my own personal routine of ambiguous moves and kicks. At least I was moving and somehow managed not to trample anyone. I thought I did a pretty good job of being inconspicous. Apparently I was wrong.

When it was time to slow it down a bit and work with the elastic bands I started to feel a little more confident. How hard can it be, right? Let's just say at one point the instructor came off the stage to show me how to hold the bands correctly. It was o.k. though because the PREGNANT instructor was keeping everyone else on track! AGGGH!

The floor exercises were fun. We did squats and the instructor related the stance to the one you take when positioning yourself over a public toilet. Now this I could do! I knew those bathroom phobias would come in handy at some point.

After class the instructor mentioned that next time I might want to move to her side of the room so I would have a better vantage point. Apparently looking diagonally across a room can really wreak havoc on your coordination. Who knew? "Now remember" she says "when we move right, you move left." Then she glanced down at my shoes and gently mentioned that I should get a sneaker with better support. I thought the cute Payless slip-ons were rather stylish but when one fell off during the class I quickly discovered for myself my erroneous thinking. I guess she saw that too.

Now to add insult to injury (or at least strained stomach muscles) when we first arrived, as is my way, we were some of the first people there. Someday I will learn that early isn't always better. We took a spot somewhere in the middle of the auditorium. What I didn't realize until we were well into second song is that middle somehow became the front row! This is disturbing on so many levels...for me as well as the unfortunate women behind me! Caroline later informed me that she thought we were a little close to the front. Someone ought to teach that child to SPEAK UP!

Friday is our next class. Hopefully by then I'll be able to take a deep breath without it feeling like someone has hit me in the ribs with a baseball bat. Then, once I've gathered the remains of my dignity and shopped for a new pair of sneakers, I'll hold my head high, arrive 5 minutes late, and take my place at the very back of the class!

Simply stated: What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. Right?!

I've angered the WASP community...

2008-03-27T18:32:00.000-07:00

and not the two-legged Protestant variety. I'm convinced that I've singled-handedly ticked off the entire wasp population at our end of the street. These ugly creatures come out this time of year trying to find a place to build nests. For some reason the exterior of our house draws a lot of attention. It just so happens that Caroline is terrified of wasps to the point of hysterics and hyperventilation.

Being the Mama Bear protector that I am, I have made it my mission to make our little piece of Arkansas as least traumatic as possible for Caroline and kill 'em all. Over the past couple of days every time I see one I simply take my can of Wasp and Hornet spray with the 27 foot spraying range and very stealth-like sneak outside and take them out one by one. I've considered creating some kind of holster for the spray but I think it would just slow me down. These wasps are a hardy bunch and despite the spray's claim to kill on contact they sometimes require some brute force with the bottom of my shoe. This plan has been working great until today.

Today, there were so many wasps out that I had one can of spray strategically stationed at the back door and one on the front steps. I think the survivors were coming and looking for their friends. So I did what any self-respecting momma would do and I became a one-woman killing machine! I even killed one without the spray, using only my foot in what could best be described as karate-style kick upside it's beady little head. (Um, Alex, I think your headlight is ok). Now I know I like to exaggerate for effect but I must tell you that my house was actually dripping with Wasp and Hornet spray. This is NOT an exaggeration. After about an hour of battle and probably six kills (who needs Halo 3) and almost two full cans of spray, I went out to check for survivors. And I kid you not, one of the little suckers dive-bombed me and actually made contact with my arm. At this point I began frantically spraying in circles leaving myself in the middle of the "spray fall-out". All that was left to do was scream like a little girl and run inside.

I then decided to impose a cease fire for the day and barricade ourselves inside until we needed to leave for soccer. Now night fall has come and the troops are asleep (mine and theirs). I'm gearing up for battle again tomorrow. This is a battle I will win!

Simply stated: I need more Wasp spray.

Worker bee...that's me!

2008-03-27T14:39:00.000-07:00

After being a work-at-home mom for the past 5 years, it's time to re-enter the workforce. Partly due to necessity...partly due to choice...probably more necessity.

There are so many changes in the air. It seems like for so long we were in a holding pattern of waiting. Now Maria's home and the employment restrictions with FamilyLife are no longer an issue and well, I just feel like possibilities are busting out all over. So here's what we've done.

We traded in the 1996 Suburban (a.k.a. beast, tank, camel) for a smaller, more fuel efficient 2004 Honda Pilot. I don't actually have possession yet, that happens tomorrow when Don gets back in town. We're hoping that the savings in gas will help to offset the car payment. And to be perfectly honest, I wanted a new car. Is that so wrong? I don't know. I'm kind of struggling with it. I'm a mess aren't I? I whine when I don't get what I want and feel guilty when I do.

Speaking of car payment. That's where the new job comes in. I'll be working part-time at Hobby Lobby and I'm really excited about it. I'll actually be working in the scrapbooking department. How perfect is that?! It will just be Monday evenings and Saturdays for now but when school starts (and if the job at Little Rock Christian doesn't work out), it sounds like I would be able to work more hours. I've felt for a long time that Hobby Lobby would be a great place to work. I hope this is where God will use me outside that Christian "bubble" that I've found myself in. I start Saturday!

Part of me feels a little off balance by all of these choices. Freedom to choose can be quite heady. Don't get me wrong, we loved every minute of our time at FamilyLife. However raising support did make us accountable to a whole group of people for how we spent our money and in many ways our time. It's rather refreshing to only be responsible to ourselves (and of course God, but that should go without saying).

Oops. Time to head off to soccer practice. More later!

Simply stated: I'm bringing home the bacon, baby!

Easter "Fun" 2008

2008-03-24T08:26:00.000-07:00

Easter Sunday brought a visit from the Easter Bunny. Or was it the Easter Ferret? Dude, what happened to your ears?! I quess that's what happens when you spend the other 364 days of the year stuffed in the back of a '98 Jeep Cherokee.

I'm not sure which was funnier...Alex as the Easter Bunny (complete with bowling shoes) or...

the paparrazi taking pictures to use as blackmail at a time and place to be determined.

The day before Easter Maria got to decorate her first batch of Easter eggs. I was so glad Don made it home to help with this. Mommy doesn't "do" eggs or jack-0-lanterns.

Here's a picture of the "pro" getting it done!

It was a great weekend with everyone home. I realized recently that I was so concentrated on my men all being home that I'd forgotten that Maria is "home" for the first time this year. In some ways it seems like she's always been here. The pain of bringing her home is quickly becoming a distant memory.

So the whole family was together for Easter. Even better we all sat together at church. There aren't many things that make me quite as happy as when we all sit together in the same pew to worship our Risen Savior.

Simply stated: He is risen indeed!

Mother of the Year I ain't!

2008-03-20T12:23:00.000-07:00

I don't want to keep harping on the matter, but in my defense it has been a really looonnnggg 12 days without Don. I think all of us girls are getting a little weary of each other. At one point yesterday I had both of my girls in tears at the same time. Nothing says "Good job, Mommy" quite like synchronized crying.

Now, Maria is probably one of the best-behaved 6-year-olds that I know. That said, she's also a litte intense and has no idea what personal space is. Too but it mildly, she'd been up in my grill ALL day long. Finally it was 8:30...sweet, blessed bedtime. Wouldn't you know that this was the night that she pulls the old "I don't want to go to bed without sister" routine. I had two choices...let her stay up until Caroline went to bed or stick to my guns and make her go at her regular bedtime. Since later bedtimes are a privilege that comes with age, I didn't think it was fair to let Maria stay up. So the directive to head to bed was given and the hysterics began. I calmly and gently put her in bed, gave her a kiss, and left her to her misery. (Mistake #1: I decided to forego prayers because who'd be able to hear them above the tantrum.) After about 15 minutes of this nonsense I decided I'd better go in an try and settle her down. The moment I saw the tossed pillows all over I should have turned around and walked away. (Mistake #2: I went into her room anyway). Then it happened. You know, that moment when you hear the very last strand of your daily allotment of sanity go "snap." What I had intended to be calming and reassuring instead came out as what I refer to as the "crazy mommy scream". It probably measured on the richter scale. Now the poor child had a reason to cry.

I regained my composure and asked her if I could pick her up so we could talk. She sniffed a helpless little yes. (Who would say no to a crazy woman?) I explained that neither she nor mommy were getting their way and that my screaming was like her crying. Both behaviors were bad and I apologized. I reassured her that I loved her and would never hurt her. I asked if she wanted to tell me something. She smiled and looked at me through those beautiful, albeit reddened, almond-shaped eyes and said "I still love you when you scream." What unconditional love! Talk about feeling like the lowest form of life. We hugged and kissed and tucked her back into bed. We prayed that God would help both of us to act in a way that would make Him and our family happy. And that was it. She went right to sleep.

I on the other hand, slinked out of her room like the slime that I am, and berated myself for my lack of self-control. Caroline's eyes were big as saucers when I came back into the living room. I can only imagine what she thought was going on back in her bedroom.

The good news is that today is a new day and God's mercies are new each morning. Maria loves me and I love her and that's enough. God gave us to each other and hopefully in the end we'll both bring out the best in each other.

Simply stated: Everyone needs someone to love them unconditionally.

Where have all the good men gone?

2008-03-18T08:30:00.001-07:00

I'll tell you!

Zack (oops, I mean Zak) is in Loveland, Colorado tearing up the slopes on a snowboard. He's texted me several times and it sounds like he's having fun. Even though he's seldom home, his presence is certainly missed by the Chalupka women.

Alex is back up (or is it over?) at UCA getting educated so that he can support his parents in their old age. He left to go back early this week and I have to admit it was a little lonely around here Sunday evening. Like I said before, he was a HUGE help with getting us and the Suburban where we needed to go on Sunday. I did text him last night and never heard back. O Alex, where art thou? Are you dissin' your Mom?

Don is in Minneapolis making a living so us girls can stay at home. I realized anew this morning what a luxury it is be able to be at home taking care of my family while having someone else take care of the bills and other pesky necessities. 3 more nights and he'll be home. Yipee!

So there you have it...a few good men.

Simply stated: My three men -- away from home but never far from my heart.

Telling My Story

2008-03-17T00:51:00.000-07:00

There was way too much whining in my last post. In an attempt to redeem myself and any heavenly value that my blog may have, I'm writing this post. It's 3:00 a.m. (no more diet cokes after 6:00 p.m.!) so hopefully it makes sense.

Last week at church we were challenged by one of our pastors to share the story of how a relationship with Jesus Christ has changed our lives. I thought what a better forum than right here on my blog. I must first admit that I've been quilty of "testimony envy." Mine is not a story of a miraculous deliverance but rather one of God slowly and purposely weaving together the details of my life to bring me into a relationship with Him. Without much drama, the storyteller in me is reluctant to share my testimony. However, the challenge has been given and I can't sleep until I get it done. So, here it goes. (May God be honored.)

I come from a great family with wonderful parents and siblings. By most standards, even before following Christ, I lived a pretty ordinary and compliant life. Growing up we attended church mainly on Christmas and Easter. Those are still some of my fondest childhood memories. It was such a treat to put on our new "church clothes" and parade up the street as a family to the Baptist church that sat right in our own backyard. The best times were when I would get to sit next to my dad and play with his hands and wedding band during the service. We would also attend church when visiting my Grammy Mary. She was the one who taught me to sing from the hymnal. Hymns like In the Garden and He Lives will always remind me of Grammy. One summer we got to attend Vacation Bible school while visiting. I thought it was the best thing ever! And I can remember like it was yesterday helping Grammy prepare communion for her church. Grammy would allow me to pour the diluted grape juice into those "cute little glasses" using an old, graped-stained watering can. Although at the time I didn't realize the significance of the communion service, I somehow knew that it was hugely important. Just reflecting back on these sweet memories brings a lump of emotion to my throat as I realize how even as a child, God was drawing me to Him through those precious times spent in His house.

Fast forward to high school. Let's just say that this was not a great time for me. I had no friends. Nope, not a one. I was one sad and lonely adolescent. My mom took matters into her own hands (thanks, Mom!) and had me invited to Youth Group at that same Baptist church right in our own backyard. Again, I loved being in God's house with His people. It just felt right. It was there that I met many friends (including my future husband) and best of all, my Savior. I was baptized in October 1980. I wish I could say that from that moment on I followed God and grew in my faith. Truth be told, I was too busy with the social part of church to really focus on God. Reminds me of the parable of the seeds. Even though the seed of my faith sprouted and probably looked pretty healthy for a while, there were too many years of shallow roots until finally my walk withered away all together and Don and I weren't even attending church anymore. Those lost years of fellowship and growth with the Lord still grieve me so.

But God wasn't about to let me go. He did let Don and I head our own way for a while but like any good Father He also let us deal with the natural consequences of our actions. For us this meant the loss of our business, bankruptcy, and one financial disaster after another. Like most children, when the going got too rough I went running back to the Father for comfort and guidance. That's when the roots went down deep and really took hold. I'm so grateful for those horrible, awful days! That's also when I really committed to grow in my faith and allow God to begin the process of molding me into the person He wants me to be. I haven't regretted a day since.

I don't know if others saw the change in me but in my mind it has been dramatic. I still have such a long way to go but I know from where I came. I can tell you that my faith in God has freed me from a lifestyle of worry. I know that God is in control and can handle things way better than I ever could. It has empowered me to honor and respect my husband, seeing him as God's gift for me, rather than nag and criticize him. It helps me to judge people less and love people better which in turn allows me to do the same for myself. My faith has taken me far beyond myself to places like Little Rock, Arkansas and farther still, Guatemala. It is allowing me to love my children with reckless abandon while at the same time confidently releasing them to His care and plan for their lives. My faith gives me strength for today, hope for tomorrow, and security for eternity!

I don't know what my life would look like without my faith. I can only speculate and what I can imagine is truly sobering.

Simply stated: Thank you, God!

Blogging Blues

2008-03-16T20:17:00.000-07:00

Don is 7 days into his 12 day trip and there just seems to be no time or even more accurate, no motivation, to blog. There's the obvious time issue with myself being the sole caretake for the girls all day, everyday. And with them both being homeschooled (or "unschooled" as we have been calling it these days) there is never a break. Just a trip to the bathroom without Maria knocking on the door would be a welcome treat. Throw in the additional household chores (can I just tell you how much I hate taking out the trash. Don's going to have a cow when he sees where I put the trash cans to make it "more convenient!"), keeping track of Zack, the addition of 3 nights of soccer, hours spent updating my resume and references, cleaning out closets for spring and my usual schedule is shot.

Not to mention that when Don's away everyone is a little out of sorts. Maria says her heart feels empty. It reminds me of when you were a child and your best friend would go on vacation and you would mope around the house thinking that you wouldn't survive until they returned. I realize when Don is away how much his presence in the house gives me a confidence and a purpose that I otherwise don't possess. Is that good? I don't know. But after 27 years together it's just the way it is.

I was joking with Don's dad and mom the other day that it has been so nice that nothing had broken in his absence. Ooops, I spoke to soon. After church today the Suburban wouldn't start. Fortunately, Alex was there to get us where we needed to go and AAA was just a phone call away to have the beast towed (and yes, I checked the battery...it's fine). I want a new car! My friend Cindy reminded me that I am supposed to be content. What's up with that? I may be in the market for a new best friend!

Maybe when Don comes home on Friday I'll have something fun to say. For now I think I'll just go to bed and get ready to start another day. Hopefully, we'll make it through the night with no bed wetting or thunderstorms so I can actually sleep by MYSELF!

Simply stated: Come home, Don!

Flaming Forks!

2008-03-06T19:37:00.000-08:00

Today was Alex's 19th birthday (Yes, we've had 3 birthdays in a week!). We celebrated with a steak dinner followed by Alex's favorite, Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. On Maria's post you got the traditional "cake" shot. Not so with Alex. Instead we have the not so traditional, or safe, or even normal lighting of the plastic fork. It was cute for awhile until little black specs of burnt plastic starting flying everywhere and landing on my light fixtures. Finally, someone had the presence of mind to voice concern over the link between burning plastic and cancer? Hmmm, notice the plumes of dark smoke...cough...cough!

I was truly tickled by the whole flaming fork thing and I thought that we may have just created the next great exclamatory remark. You could use the phrase in a sentence like..."Flaming forks, it's cold outside!" So long "holy cow"...no more "leaping lizards"...make room for "flaming forks!" Alex says it won't catch on. We'll see.

But I digress...the day started with the realization that for the first time in 19 years I didn't get to wake Alex up with a happy birthday greeting. A text message had to suffice. It made me a little sad but knowing that he was coming home for dinner helped take away some of the sting. I also think 19 sounds so old, which means I'm old enough to have a 19-year-old. (Here's where the reader should think with awe and wonder "Wow, she sure doesn't look old enough to have a son who's 19!) I have to be careful what I write here because Alex will read my post, but can I just tell you what a wonderful young man Alex has turned in to. I won't gush but I do know that this mom couldn't be more proud. Happy birthday, Alex.

Simply stated: Flaming forks! I'm getting old!

Maria's "1st" Birthday!

2008-03-06T19:15:00.000-08:00

Maria and Caroline modeling Maria's new Curious George raincoat and umbrella.
Caroline, Maria's friend Elizabeth, and Maria at her birthday (church) dinner.
Maria with all of her Calico Critters.

Maria's 6th birthday was yesterday but since this was her first birthday with us I've posted the traditional 1st birthday cake photo. We had her birthday dinner at church where we always eat on Wednesday night (hence Maria is wearing her Awana vest) and treated all who attended to a slice of Maria's cake. The sweetest moment was when we stood her on a chair and asked our church family to join with us in signing happy birthday to her. I don't know what was going through her head but she got a little teary-eyed and seemed a bit overwhelmed. I hope what she was thinking was "Wow, this is all for me. I sure feel loved." She had so many people come up to her and wish her a happy birthday and with each greeting she would give a truly heartfelt thank you. Some of her friends even brought gifts! The snow coming in tonight could be threatening her Tea Party on Saturday but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Either way, I think she had a great birthday.

To think, last year at this time she was having an uneventful day in Guatemala. I asked her if she'd ever had a birthday party and she said "no." So many firsts for a little person to soak in.

I actually thought that her birthday would "feel" more significant than it did. But now that I reflect back on the day, it just seemed really natural. She's just one of the gang!

Simply stated: What a difference a year makes!

What is up with the weather?

2008-03-04T07:07:00.001-08:00

This is what we woke up to this morning. Saturday and Sunday were sunny and 70 degrees and now we have snow. This doesn't help when we're trying to explain the seasons to Maria! The powers that be didn't delay school so Zack headed of with a little peephole for a windshield and called a few minutes later to say the roads were a mess. He was stopping for gas so he could put the car in 4-wheel drive (nothing will put Zack in a bad mood faster than having to pay $3.19 for gas). He called Don a few minutes later to give Don a play-by-play description of the cars taking turns going down Chenal Hill so they didn't slide into each other. Zack went down in the grass on the shoulder. Needless to say the girls and I are staying in this morning. It should be fine in a couple of hours for our afternoon activities. If I don't get out to get my haircut I might just lose my mind! Maria is supposed to have her first soccer practice at 6:00. We'll see how that goes.

Arkansas weather is kind of like my moods these days. Sunny one minute...stormy the next. I don't know what's going on with my hormones but I think they are all over the place. At least the rest of the family has grown up with "mommy dearest". Poor Maria probably thinks..."This is NOT what I signed up for! I want the nice lady back." This too shall pass.

Simply stated: It's a good day...no it's a bad day...no it's a good day...no it's a bad day. You get the picture! :)

Stacie

Maria's Lifebook

2008-03-03T09:03:00.000-08:00

I had to take a break from blogging for a few days to work on Maria's Lifebook. In the adoption community these books are a popular and helpful way to share with your child the story of how she joined your family. Most people scrapbook them but I'm much handier with a computer so I did Maria's on Shutterfly. If anyone wants the link to see it, let me know and I'll send it to you.

I think I've probably spent about 25 hours on it over the past 4 days (explains the sleep deprivation!). But it had to be done, for several reasons. First, time is flying by. Maria has already been home for 6 months. I needed to preserve the memories while they were still fresh.

Second, we received Maria's files from the U.S. immigration authories. These documents included many details of her life that we didn't know. They were heart-wrenching to read and too private to share. Some day she'll know the details. In the meantime we needed a tool to regularly and purposely shed a positive light on her journey. One that, like most adoptions, was born out of pain and loss.

Finally, our precious girl turns six on Wednesday. Although the book won't be here by then, at least the work is done. She's getting older and the questions will be coming. I hope that this book will help her realize that her story, although different from most children's, is not bad. It was all part of her Creator's plan for her life.

Maria's journey home was certainly a long and often emotionally treacherous leading us straight to the edge of ourselves. I've always thought it would be nice to have a roadmap of our journeys laid out for us. I know now that God, in His mercy, only reveals the details on a need to know basis. Otherwise, we would never leave the driveway for fear of the road that lies ahead. I'm so glad we traveled this road.

Simply stated...the journey was rough but the destination...glorious!

Stacie

Sweet Caroline

2008-02-28T20:32:00.000-08:00

Me and my sweet Caroline.

Caroline lighting the candles on her ice cream cake.

Opening her new watch. A gift from Dad and Mom

Twelve years ago today the world got a whole lot sweeter when our Caroline was born. It's hard to believe she's almost a teenager.

Caroline had a busy day of birthday celebrations starting with a special snack for all the kiddos at Bible study. Then she and Dad went to lunch for her first experience with Sushi. She loved it! Then Caroline, Maria and Dad went to Chuck E. Cheese to burn through some tokens. Finally, we had a wonderful time at dinner with our friends the Habenicht's and even Alex drove down from college to join us. (Zack had to work and missed out on the festivities) Caroline chose a menu of salmon, green bean and rice amandine, caesar salad and ice cream cake for dessert. Yummo!

Tomorrow is another big day for her. She's going to spend the day shadowing a friend at her new school. I will miss her and I'm sure Maria will too. Well, it's time for bed. I'm not used to getting her off to school so morning will come early.

Simply stated...Happy birthday sweet girl! I love you.

Waiting for your comments...

2008-02-28T15:53:00.000-08:00

Alex the genius (his words exactly) changed my settings so that anyone can post comments on my blog (you don't need to be a registered google user). Bring 'em on!

Stacie

The Battle of the "Buts"

2008-02-27T09:11:00.000-08:00

Everyone around seems to be fighting off something this winter. Flu, strept throat, bronchitis. Not me. No, I've been battling a serious case of the "buts". You know those insidious thoughts that stir up discontentment and dissension in your spirit. Symptoms include consuming thoughts such as "a new kitchen table is nice but wouldn't new counter tops be even better." Or..."Sure, I have a car that runs fine but I really want a new one." Oh, better yet, I deserve a new one. (What a bunch of bunk!). The most caustic variety of the buts are those that focus on people rather than things. (To protect the innocent, I won't elaborate!) Symptoms also include increased moodiness, constant complaining, and bouts of irresponsible spending. The buts are not fatal (unless your husband kills you) and there is a cure. Contrary to conventional wisdom, the cure is not more stuff but rather in your walk with God.

I know this in my head but my heart and actions are sometimes slow to catch on. Maybe one day I'll be immune to the buts. Until then I need only to remember that I am blessed beyond measure. I will focus on what I have instead of what I lack. I will voice praise rather than pity. I will focus on others and not myself. (Ok, and I'll quit spending money that I don't have!)

Simply stated...It's time to get over it!

Stacie

Rocky Road

2008-02-25T21:01:00.001-08:00

Parenting can certainly be described as a "Rocky Road" especially during the teen and pre-teen years. We've got three of them! Add into the mixture an almost six year old who is adjusting to life in a new country, with a new family, and a new language and it's time to fasten our seatbelts.

However, in the midst of all the worries and hassles over things like grades and the internet, driving and curfews, friends and hormones, dirty laundry and even dirtier bathrooms (there's a reason why we call it the man cave), are those precious moments that bless a mother's heart. They're not the particularly triumphant moments that the world would see as worthwhile. Still, they are significant none the less.

Here's my top 10 list of seemingly small yet significant blessings just in the past two days:

10. getting to hear Zack play drums at church
9. having Alex agree to pick up Caroline from choir so we can attend community group
8. being joined at lunch on Sunday by 8 of the boys' friends
7. watching both of my daughters hold hands as they walk into Sunday school
6. hearing Caroline and Maria laugh, tickle, and play
5. getting a spontaneous hug from Caroline
4. having Maria kiss my boo-boos
3. seeing Alex use his gifts to serve on the AV team at church
2. watching Alex and Zack play video games together

and the #1 blessing.

1. having Zack walk in the door after a long day of school, track practice and a church meeting carrying a half gallon of "rocky road" ice cream because he remembered I had a craving two days ago!

Simply stated...I am a blessed woman!

Stacie

My Bucket List

2008-02-25T20:02:00.000-08:00

We recently saw the movie "The Bucket List" with some good friends of ours. Afterwards at dinner the conversation naturally turned to what each of us would include on our list. As I have no great desires to thrill seek or travel the world, I had trouble creating my list. After mulling it over for a few days, it dawned on me. I would like to have something that I have written be published.

Oh, to be a published author! As long as I can remember, I've loved writing. Letters, stories, e-mails, even school reports and term papers, any reason to put words on paper. There's nothing quite as gratifying as crafting words into a cohesive and entertaining narrative.

So in this age of online journaling, I've decided to take the plunge and create my own blog. I'm not sure what I'll write about. It just seems like life needs to be recorded. It won't be eloquent or full of Solomn-like wisdom, but it will be real and honest. And, with a husband and four kids I'm sure there will be moments of humor as well! I hope that it will be a blessing to anyone who reads it and that above all that my words will bring honor to my Savior and family. I can't wait for my next entry!

Simply stated...I need to write.
Stacie