All I Had Was A Razor

On Saturday, Elizabeth and Sarah Grace and I headed to a wedding. I was dashing about trying to be sure that I had all that I needed for the three of us for an afternoon out when I grabbed my iPhone. It was dead. Oh. So. Dead. I turned to my mother in law and asked to borrow hers...given my recent track record, I felt it best to have a phone with me. One never knows when this kind of stuff will strike!

I tucked what used to be my Sassy Pink Razor in my purse and ran out the door, knowing that I had all the things I would need in an emergency. Drinks, diapers, wipes, change of clothes for each girl, cell phone. Check, check, check.

Don't misunderstand me, I was very thankful that I could borrow the phone. And I used to love this phone. It was pink. Not being a girly-girl, it cracked me up that I got excited about a pink phone.

The operative phrase there is 'used to love'.

Now, I am madly infatuated with the iPhone. Sad to say that my loyalties were converted that quickly. I reached for my tech savvy phone several times though out the afternoon for pictures, internet access, or to simply call someone.

Thing is, I didn't have my phone. So I didn't get a picture of Sarah Grace flinging herself at the bride (whom she had never met) and the look of delightful awe and satisfaction at having hugged the 'princess' because all I had was a Razor. I was saddened when I was asked about my kids and I reached for my phone to show off pictures of them, only to find that all I had was a Razor! I didn't get pictures of Elizabeth snitching carrots off the buffet table because all I had was a Razor. I was frustrated to not be able to look up directions to a store because all I had was a Razor. I was nearly irritated when I tried to call a friend to check up on her son but couldn't because her number was stored in my iPhone and all I had was a Razor.

Okay, maybe that one is my fault for not committing a friend's phone number to memory (which I did finally guess at and miraculously got right!).

At one point, I even reached for my phone to do a quick bit of research before purchasing a product, but alas, all I had was a Razor.

CRAP!!
Yup, I said that out loud. Here I was with a not-quite-four-year-old and a parrot of a two year old. And what do you think happened?


See that adorable face? Now imagine those eyebrows knitted together and those sweet little lips growling out 'CWAP!'
Because all I had was a Razor!

Life Is Good

I have been sitting here watching an episode of House. A particularly heart wrenching one. It's about babies. And since it's House...well, I don't need to elaborate. Leave it at I have been here in tears off and on through out the show.

I kept telling myself to turn off the television, but it seems I needed a reason to cry. It's not been a bad day. A noisy one, thanks to the overly rambunctious Munchkin Brigade, but not bad. I just needed a bit of a cry.

I should have watched A Walk In The Clouds...no sick baby stuff in that one. Just some good tears. Watching House, though, made me realize how very good my life is. A Walk In The Clouds would never have done that.

But there is this baby sitting with her Daddy, making sweet and excited sounds. She is getting better at the crawling almost by the hour, and with her new found mobility, finds more things to explore. I turned my back on her for almost a whole minute yesterday. When I looked back over at her, she had a blue streak from her mouth to her ear. No evidence as to what it might have been, but I suspect she found a bit of crayon.

Then there is that boy of ours. His personality is developing and his vocabulary is expanding. It cracks me up to hear him try out a new word. Sometimes he uses those new words in the right way, but more often than not, he just spices up his descriptions with words that come out of the blue. My favorites, though, are the ones he makes up. He tells me almost daily, 'I mooked my bed up.' I would correct him, but no. I am enjoying it while it lasts. Then there is 'oscilly' which he made up and Sarah Grace adopted. The way they use it leads us to believe they mean 'actually'. I have corrected him more than once, but it's in one ear and out the other.

My teacher skills astound me. I correct, they don't believe me. I don't correct because I think it's cute.

Elizabeth is coming on up towards potty training time. We have made a few stabs at it, but since I really didn't put much effort into potty training the others, I don't know what to do. I will probably continue to stick to the 'whenever the kid is read' mentality. My personality can't take much blood pressure elevation before my mouth gets sassy.

Ah, but let's not go there. This is about my cutie patootie kids.

Elizabeth is a ham. I have said it before and I will say it again (and probably many more times to come...just check back): That girl is my Sunshine. She is mischievous as all get out, wears her emotions on her sleeve, and lives to make people smile.

She crawled up into bed with me this morning and snuggled right against me and promptly fell asleep. It was peaceful.

That may have been the only peaceful moment of the entire morning...

Then my Sarah Grace. She talks a mile a minute (possibly more, but just how is that measured, anyway?) She is my helper. Where ever I am and what ever I am up to, she offers assistance. She takes such pleasure in being given tasks, and is proving more capable every day. She is a klutz, thus erasing any doubt that she does have some of me in her after all. She is sweet and caring and thoughtful. She is meticulous, artsy, and brave, and works so hard to please me. She invited me to her birthday party yesterday.

It's nice to know I'm wanted.

And my husband? That man, he is my sweetheart. My best friend. And my hero.

So, I dried my tears and praised my Savior for this good life of mine.

Just Call Me A Beach Boy...

...cause I Get Around!

It's official...we have a creeping crawler in the house again.


This mobility thing is tiring...


...breaks over! Gotta go!

Guess this means I will have to be more diligent with the vacuum cleaner...

Each Day Has It's Own Thing To Be Remembered

The day started off with me sitting in a chair, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes (and it wasn't yet 7:30) giving a bottle to Anna. Who apparently wasn't very interested, as after a few moments, I began to have a cool, wet sensation in my lap.

No, I hadn't peed myself. The baby was leaking formula out of her mouth. Her way of telling me 'I don't want this!' My freshly showered and clean clothes wearing self now was soaked in and reeked of formula.

That'll teach me to get up early!

Then I had to call Lora and tell her that our original plans for the day were to be put on hold for a week. She suggested an early lunch at a favorite County Store and Eatery of ours. I steered the crew in the direction of clothing and getting themselves towards the vehicle.

I know you are all assured of my competency, so let's not even go into detail as to the how's of this little crumb. As we headed out to the interstate, Elizabeth piped up from the back of the van.

'Mommy, whare my diaper?'

Thinking she was just prattling on, I laughed and said, 'On your bummy, silly girl.'

'I not dot a diaper and bwoomers, Mommy!' she replied, giggling her most mischievous little giggle.

People, I just about slammed on the brakes. I hadn't packed a diaper bag. No diapers, no wipes, no NOTHING. Anna had just enjoyed a very late breakfast that took me off the hook for feeding her while the rest of us ate lunch, I'd put fresh diapers on the little girls just before we left. I was not prepared for anything, thereby breaking the sacred Mommy Code. Oh, and how.

I pulled over and checked, and sure enough...nothing but skin greeted my eyes. I frantically dug around in the pockets of the van and thankfully unearthed one blessed diaper. A size too small, but who's keeping track at this point?

Catastrophe averted, we pulled out and continued on our way.

Lunch was lovely.

Check here to see Lora's tale of the lunch date. She makes it sound so...entertaining.

Girls Morning Out

Saturday dawned bright and clear. And COOL!! It was a perfect day for all sorts of things. I had one thing on my mind, though. A pedicure. I was itching for somebody to attention my feet. Seeing as how Sarah Grace loves a good toe polishing, I took her along. I explained to her on the way there what it was that we were up to, and she seemed vaguely confused.

'But you paint my toes in tha baf-room...why does somebody else do it?'

Well....why indeed. I can absolutely paint my own nails...I just like the extravagance of having it done for me occasionally! How to explain that to nearly four year old girl?

When we got to the nail salon, Sarah Grace asked precisely 486 questions pertaining to her surroundings. What is that? Why is she doing that? Look at that funny chair! Are we gonna get to sit there? What is that doing to her feet? and on and on and on and on....

Then I pointed her towards the paint color selections. She looked at them for less than a nano-second and went straight towards a purple. A shockingly purple kind of purple. Not neon or plum, but straight up, very bright purple. Ironically, it's name was Purple!! (exclamation points were a part of the name)

Now, ya'll, I am all about convention. And this purple was highly unconventional. In my little bubble of a world. Everything in me was balking at the idea of my daughter having purple toes. Everything except this one little brain cell of logic that was screaming it doesn't matter. They are her toes, and the kid wants purple.

It's amazing how one eensy brain cell can over rule an entire body, mind, and soul. In this instance, it was okay. I kept my mouth shut and the child carried her purple polish to the fellow who was lined up to do our toes.

I, on the other hand, stuck to my idea of convention. I picked up my tried and true favorite. A shade of red named I'm Not Really A Waitress.

I'll leave you to laugh for a moment.

But not too long. You'll offend my delicate nature.

Moving on along....

We sat up in our chair, me soaking my feet in the wonderfully warm water and Sarah Grace sat in my lap and chattered non-stop about anything and everything that she saw. I finally realized that I wasn't going to get to relax my way through my pedicure unless I did something to distract this child of mine.

iPhone to the rescue!! Dots, Four in a Row, Cow Says Moo, and several other games kept her subdues for nearly 12 minutes. Then the guy started painting her toe nails. And she sat quietly and awed until he finished the first coat.

As he started the second, she looked up at me...

'Why is he doing two of them, Mommy? He already painted that toe. And that one!'

She began to squirm a bit, but one quick reminder for the guy and she settled down. I explained that two coats would help the polish last longer. This pleased her and she sat back. Until he started the clear coat.

She sprang forward again and quizzed him on why he was doing that and what was it for? Thankfully, the guy has a five year old daughter of his own, and gently but firmly held her little foot as he gave her the why's and how for's.

Sarah Grace's toes were finished up and she sat against me, resuming her chatter, until we were done with our pampering. The we went shopping for her a pair of flip flops so she could better show off her toe nails. As I carried her (oh my word, is she ever getting big!) through the store, she pointed out her toes to every single person we passed.

All of them. To a person, they all smiled and oohed. I could have hugged the sulky teen aged boy who gave her a smile and a 'cool'. Really.

We found her some purple flops that nearly matched the hue of her toes. Put them on her feet right then and there and now they are the only shoes for her.

After the pictures (where Sarah Grace pulled her most solemn expression ever) we pulled out stickers for her toes. As soon as Elizabeth saw the stickers, she had to have some. Then Sarah Grace insisted I put some on my toes. I was game, but because I am so not coordinated, the effort resulted in highly less than symmetrical toe nail stickers, and I pretty much ruined the aesthetics of the pedicure.

Most importantly, though, we had a great time. Sarah Grace showed off her toes to everyone at church. She was adamant about wearing her pretty, purple, polka dot flops just so she could see her toes. Elizabeth simply pulled off her shoes several times to display her toes. Ahhhh......these little girls of mine sure do make life sweet!

No Good, Very Bad Day

Oh, please tell me you read Amelia Bedelia and you actually get that title!

I got up. I mean, I actually focused on the day ahead and got out of bed with intent. Normally, I kind of loll around, hiding under the covers until my children start howling about hunger pangs and not ever getting to see the light of day.

Okay, so that is a bit exaggerated. I really do put off getting out of my sweet bed, but today...

...I got up. With Intent. I had things I wanted to get done. Including start training for a 5K run that is looming in my future. I had the audacity to challenge my husband, and now I have to save face and actually do this thing. It's just two-ish miles, but that is a LOT from a gal who has had four kids in just under five years and hasn't ran anymore than is necessary to catch one of those kids in a game of chase!

I took off down the road with gusto. Then I dragged my tailbone back to the driveway a mere ten minutes later feeling as though my lungs would give out any moment.

Coming up the steps this morning was a bit excruciating.

Then to add insult to injury, I pulled out my core work out DVD and did a twenty minute work out. While I panted and groused my way through more crunches than should ever be put into one workout, my children agonized and valiantly tried to keep up laughed and did twice the work out I puffed through.

It was humbling. Verrrrry humbling. I don't even wanna think about how easy all that was just a short six years ago...

After the riot of exercise, you'd have thought the Munchkin Brigade would be happy and good to go. Nope. Twas a day full up of training. Full of training. I could expound on that, but I have absolutely no need to revisit most of the day's moments.

Somewhere towards mid-afternoon, my emotions took over. I sat on the brink of tears for the rest of the evening. I made it through church, grateful to simply be in the Lord's house and surrounded by His children. Once we finally got the kids loaded into the cars (the big girls with Joshua and Thomas and Anna with me), I turned on the radio and prepared for a quiet and relaxing ride home.

And then this song came on, and somehow I dissolved into tears. Thomas, who chooses when he wants to be observant, took note and after the song was over (what made him wait, I will never know) asked me what was wrong.

'Just a tough Mommy day, Buddy', I replied, hoping he would let it drop.

'Mommy, it's always a new day. Tomorrow we can pray and thank God that we have a new day to be happy in. Tomorrow, Mommy.' Then he smiled at me and promptly ignored me.

I am continually amazed with the simple truths that my children speak. They nearly quote from scripture at times, and I am reminded that we are all made in the image of our Creator. That some of Him is in us, if we just let the frustrations and perceived sorrows of the day go, we will hear His voice and can rest on His promises.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’” -Lamentations 3.22-24

Nothing But Cuteness

If you have kept up with this blog for any amount of time, ya'll know I blog in spurts. This week, every day, that week only once...but it works for me. As it stands, I have this urge to blog, but when I sat down to the computer, I realized that I had nothing stored up in the ol' brain for ya. Stuff is a brewin', but it may need to steep a bit more before I can get all the words out.

Or not. It might just get tossed to the wayside.

Since I am suffering from a lack of thought formation, I dug out a few pictures that were somewhat representative of out Independence Day. Or at the very least, very representative of the cuteness that must be endured at all times in our home.

The older kids enjoyed a bit of tubing...


Then we all went swimming in the lake...


While Anna made friends with Annabelle. The very same little poodle who was a quivering little bundle of fur and attended mine and Joshua's wedding! She made me smile and giggle that day (like that was hard to do!) and it was hilarious fun to see her prance around while Anna made grabs at her and did quite a bit of her own giggling!

It's A Wreck

Given that the current theme of this blog seems to be about mishaps with trucks, I thought I would regale you with yet another minor mishap.

Thankfully, oh sweet mercy, thankfully, this episode does not feature me. This one is all about the kiddos. Complete with some pictures, which I know have been in short supply as of late. You'll forgive me for not bothering with pictorial proof of my incidents. Shame does not photograph well.

Back at Christmas, my parents gifted the kids with these lovely cars. They have been much loved, and somehow, not overused. We were a bit afraid that we would have to force the kids to ride their bikes. This has not been the case, and we are ever so pleased.

Recently, Elizabeth has gotten antsy. Thomas is a professional miniature car driver, and Sarah Grace, though not quite as adept, is still pretty stinking good. It generally goes that Sarah Grace takes the sports car and Thomas takes the SUV, giving Elizabeth the passenger seat. However, Elizabeth is no longer content with the status quo.

In short, girlfriend was ready to be in control!

Yesterday, I allowed Thomas to give Elizabeth a few driving lessons. His job was to help her steer if she needed it, be sure that the car stayed in first gear (turtle speed), and to switch it into reverse as needed. He was awesome! Very patient as he explained over and over again to her to watch where she was going so she wouldn't wreck.

He was careful to only help when needed. Our Elizabeth is a bit independent. Too much help causeth much shrieking on her part. We have all learned to kind of stand back and let her go.

She's my daughter. There's nothing else for it.

Once she got her first round of instructions under her belt, she started off.

Occasionally, Thomas would grab the wheel to keep the two of them on track. Don't you love how neither of them are watching 'the road' in this picture?

For her part, Sarah Grace was enjoying cruising in the larger vehicle. She even allowed me to ride with her for a moment. Another image I will not subject you sweet folks to...unless you happen to be here when I hop in again.

Yes, it was a successful lesson. Elizabeth got her need for speed accommodated and everyone came in for a nap pretty quickly afterward.

I am thinking that Elizabeth didn't file my admonitions away. She was under strict orders to not drive unless A) Mommy was outside with her and B) Thomas was backseat driving. Literally. For after they had been out for just a few moments this afternoon, I heard a blood chilling thud and squeal.

I ran outside and found Lightening McQueen wedged under Granny's truck, and Elizabeth screaming with all her might. Her fingers were stuck between the steering wheel of her car and the under side of the truck. I ran over to her and, after several moments, managed to get her fingers out of the wreckage. Her forehead was red from where I imagine she smacked it into the truck, and her little fingers were squished flat.

I snatched her up and held her close until she finally began to calm down. She stuck pretty close to me as we went back to assess the damage to the vehicles.

Granny's truck was just fine, but Lightening was stuck. No amount of pulling was going to loosen that car without ripping off the steering wheel. On top of being stuck, it appeared that the speaker had been ripped out of the steering wheel. So I had the kids park their bikes and the SUV and took them in for nap.

When Joshua got home this evening, he put the jack in position so the kids could jack up the truck and free Lightening. Sarah Grace started the process, but about halfway into it, I called a halt for dinner.

Sorry, it didn't occur to me to actually take pictures of this until the truck was already six inches or so higher, but just imagine how jammed this little car was and my precious daughter's fingers smashed in all that mess.

After dinner was wrapped up, Thomas finished working the jack to free Lightening.

And the cat, well, he's just a camera ham. Had to settle himself in the middle of things and take a bath while he watched the activity.

Thomas would pump the jack a few times, then walk over to see if the car would slip out yet. Then back to the jack work, check the car, again to the jack, and finally, my muscle man pulled the car out from under the truck.

Here he is flexing it for ya.


I tell you, I think we have had more vehicle excitement this month than should be allowed!

Anna Joy - 7 Months

I am seven months old....

...and I can sit up!
...and I love to eat.
...and I am still nursing.
...and I chew on my toes...
...and my fingers...
...and your fingers...
...and your face...
...and toys...
...and anything else that I can get my mouth on.
...and I like to swim.
...and I love the bath tub!
...and my favorite thing to do is blow raspberries!
...and I need at least two naps a day to maintain my sweet disposition. Sometime it takes three naps, though.
...and I am on the very cusp of crawling...just need to get everything going in the same direction at the same time!
...and I like watermelon a lot!
...and I will grab at things if I sit in Mommy's lap at the table or at the desk.
...and I have developed and am mastering a Fake Cry.
...and Mommy doesn't fall for the Fake Cry. She laughs!
...and I love to hang out in the Moby wrap while Mommy goes walking.
...and I love to jump in the Jump-A-Roo!
...and did I mention I like to put things in my mouth?
...and I love to put my hands on people's faces.
...and I love when my brother or sisters push me around the yard in a stroller.
...and I just have the entire family wrapped around my drool covered little pinky!

A Really Good Reason To Never Again Laugh At The Follies Of My Friend

This Crazy Friend of mine was allowed to travel. You should check it out. The posts make for some great entertainment. And those little gems...all in a week, people. She's a regular riot.

I may have laughed a bit hard and harassed a bit much, though.

As if this incident weren't enough, I ventured out in the truck again today. While the kids slept in the nice air conditioned house, I gathered up my calendar (the hub of my sanity and keeper of my To Do List) and set out for a few quick errands.

Bookstore, check. Pharmacy, check. With the big things behind me, I headed off to the gas station to fill up the truck. I pulled up to the pump, switched off the ignition, then tossed the keys in the general direction of the seat as I jumped out and pumped some gas.

Being the graceful swan that I am, I tripped as I was getting back into the truck. In an effort to save my face from smashing into something, I grabbed at the steering wheel of the truck to steady myself. As my weight pitched forward, I felt the steering wheel lock up.

I remember the first time that ever happened to me. I was sixteen and at my Great Granddaddy's house and had been running some errands for him. When I got into my car to leave, I found the steering wheel had locked into position. Being afraid to hurt the car, I slipped back inside to interrupt the conversation my Granddaddy was having. The other gentleman was kind enough to come out and 'fix' my car. With a grunt and a jerk, the wheel was loosed, and I was good to go.

This car is remarkably similar to my own Tank. Mine was better, though. ;-)

Since then, I have had loads of practice in such situations. Today, however, I put the key into the ignition and tried to unlock the wheel, but nothing happened. In fact, I couldn't get the ignition to turn. I was trying to turn, but the entire mechanism was stuck.

I did what any Distressed Damsel would do at that point...I picked up my cell phone and called my Knight. He gave me a list of things to do, all of which I had already tried, then apologized and said he was an hour away and couldn't trouble shoot any more that what he had already done. Call the mechanic, honey.

And so I did. We went through the same song and dance to no avail. That wheel wasn't budging. The key wasn't turning. Nadda. Zilch. Nothing. Kaput.

While all of this is going on, I made apologies to the different people who pulled up behind me at the pump. 'Sorry ya'll, my truck is broke down.' Several gentlemen valiantly tried to 'help out the little lady', but left with shakes of their heads and apologies.

I also called my mother-in-law, who was home with the kids. Thankfully, all was going well there.

The decision was finally made to call for a tow truck. I ached to have Thomas with me, given his singular obsession with our situation just last week! When the truck arrived, I was awed as they situated it onto the flatbed and I wished with all my might that Thomas could be there. He would have been in Little Boy Bliss.

I even got to ride in the tow truck!!! Oh, my Thomas! I was thinking about you the whole way.

We arrived at the garage where the truck was unloaded. I stepped inside to officially lodge my complaint with the truck to the lady at the desk. The owner came through and told me it would be Thursday or even Friday before he could get to it. I didn't care so much as to the whens, since this is not a primary vehicle, just so long as it was taken care of.

I reached down to grab my keys out of my purse and hand them over. As I started to take the key off the keyring, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I glanced up to see if anyone was reading my thoughts, mumbled something about needing to get something out of the truck, and made a quick exit.

I got back out to the truck and upended my purse, pawing trough the chap sticks and assorted receipts. Not there. I started looking under and around the driver's seat, and finally, I saw it. A glimmer of silver.

The keys to the truck.

What? The keys to the truck, you ask?

My head was playing back the mental video footage from the gas station. My mind's eye saw the keys being tossed onto the seat as I got out of the truck. I overshot, and the keys fell between the seat and the console. When I got back into the truck, I reached out for my familiar key ring, not really thinking about the fact that the truck called for a different key ring.

Yes. Yes. Yes. There it was. The problem was never the truck. Two hours, a lot of phone calls, several would be Good Samaritans, and a tow truck later, I realized my folly. I had been trying to start the truck with the van keys.

And there you have it. LL, I solemnly swear to make no more witty remarks about your, um, lapses.

Or at least the plane ticket lapse...

At Least I Didn't Lock The Keys In The Car

The morning flew by in a blur of fits of one-up-man-ship and selfishness from the Munchkin Brigade. I finally gathered them all to the table for utter silence while I tossed fruits and yogurts and milk and spinach in the blender to create their nutritional lunch of smoothies. As I sat their glasses on the table, I swear to you, a little person whispered 'My smoovee has more stwawbewwies than yours does.'

How is it that the sing-song nonnie-nonnie-boo-boo lilt is ingrained at birth?

As soon as the kids finished up their lunch, they helped me clean up in the kitchen. I tolerated their crankiness for nearly ten more minutes as I nursed Anna, then shoo-ed all the girls off for nap. Within minutes, there were three very soundly sleeping girls.

Thomas and I took advantage of the quietness, checked with Granny, then jumped in the truck to run a couple of errands. We rolled the windows down, turned the music up, and had a great time letting the wind whip around us.

Our first stop was at the Farmer's Market where we picked up some yummy blackberries for a cobbler that I have been dreaming of. Then we dropped in at the school supply store to grab up a couple of writing tablets for Thomas and Sarah Grace. We actually walked around for quite some time perusing the store. After we had our fill, we went out to the truck, got ourselves all situated, and the truck didn't start. I tried again. And again, and again. Still nothing.

This apparently happens when a vehicle gets as little use as our truck tends to get. Sigh.

I called Joshua. He advised me to check the truck box for jumper cables. I climbed up in the bed of the truck and rooted around in the box until I managed to unearth the cables. Then came the part where I asked the only two people in sight if they would be willing to give me a jump.

Um, Daddy, if by chance you are reading this, look away now. I am about to admit something that I might prefer you not to be aware of.
It wasn't that these people were unwilling, but, as it turns out, none of us knew how to use a set of jumper cables.

I called Granny and let her in on what was going on, checked with her again, and the decision was made that she should stay put with the girls until they got up from nap. Then they could all load up and come to fetch the boy and me.

Throughout all of this, Thomas was yammering about calling a tow truck. We could call the tow truck to get us and take us home. The tow truck was red. It made lots of noise. Tow truck.

Tow truck.

Tow truck.

It was all the kid could think of. He could have been offered a hot fudge sundae and never heard it over all the noise the tow truck thoughts were making in his head.

I finally convinced him that we would continue on and finish out our errands. The big thing on our to do list was to get by the civic center and sign up Thomas to play soccer. I proposed an adventure to Thomas, who by now had visions of Tow Mater coming to get us, and told him we could walk to the civic center. By my guesstimations, it wasn't quite two miles away.

Thomas got all excited and his thoughts quickly turned to my friend Laura, who is in Asia. We read her blog regularly and pray for her and her family and the work they are doing there. We also talk about how much walking they do. Suddenly, Thomas decided that we just needed to move to China, where they walk all the time.

I talked him off the ledge of international travel and we set out on our much smaller adventure. Two blocks into it, we came upon a gentleman who, at the moment, seemed friendly enough, and just as I was about to talk to him about possibly borrowing a bit of battery juice, he started barking at some poor soul on the other end of his cell phone.

Not wanting to add to his stress (or mine!!), Thomas and I kept on trucking. We passed a store where we went in and got water bottles. It was 3 in the afternoon. My water disappeared pretty quickly! Of all the days to wear jeans...

We stopped at one point to sit in the shade and enjoy the breeze. We called Joshua to let him know we were fine and a plan was in place. Then we marched on towards the civic center.

Thomas could not be steered toward any topic of conversation other than our predicament. He had idea after idea after idea on how to best handle ourselves. He never complained about the walk or the heat at all, but he managed some pretty hilarious scenarios.

"Well, Momma, if only we had a sign on a stick and a pen we could make a sign that said 'Aubrey Freeman is broken down.'"

'Well, Thomas, that's an idea.', I replied

'Yeah, I have a lot to say on things like brokening down and towing trucking and things like that. A lot to say.'

There were others, but that is the one that I made the voice memo of, so that I would be sure not to lose it in the near empty chasm of my brain.

To wrap things up, we made it to the civic center, got Thomas all signed up to play soccer, and were picked up by Granny and the girls shortly there after. And after the kids went to bed tonight, Joshua and I went to get the truck.

And Daddy, if by chance you are reading this, and you did not look away, I now posses the knowledge of how to use a set of jumper cables.

Chatty Cathy

It was a bit quieter than usual on our way home from church this evening. The older two kids rode home with Joshua, leaving me with the little girls. I thought they would both sack out, but after Anna screamed for the first twenty minutes or so of the ride, I gave up that thought.

Your laughing because I said 'quieter than usual' in that first sentence then mentioned the twenty minute scream in the last sentence, aren't you? It's okay...this is the season of life I am in. The one marked by the definition of quieter meaning only one screaming child rather than two loud (fighting or just happily noisy) voices, one toddler rock star groovin' to her own version of the Alphabet song, and one screaming child.

It's all relative, people.

The screaming child did finally give it up, just as we turned on to 65 South. That is when I heard Elizabeth. Knowing her, she had been merrily chatting away the whole ride, and I had just missed it. Due to the other noise in the car. But as Anna started quieting, I could hear Elizabeth chatting it up big time.

'Wook at duh sky, Mommy! Ih have geen and puuhpuhl and red and o-inge and bwuu and stripies in ih!'

'Where did duh moon go?'

'I tee it, Mommy, I tee duh moon!!!'

'One, doo, fwee, foe, five, tix, teben, eigh, nine, ten, eweben, telve, foeteen, foeteen, fiteen, sitteen, setteen, ateteen, nihteen, dwenty!'

'I dot piggies ih my hair, Mommy. Doo of dem, ih my hair.'

'Yoo wash my bwanket in duh was-sir doday, Mamma? It get cween?'

'Sing Jesus Woves Me adain, Mamma! I sing it wif yoo. O-tay?'

'Dat was a big tuck, Mamma. Ih went fast!'

'I don' hab a window, Mommy.'

'Hab a nack when we det home, Mamma? Do eet, oh, pweez, Mommy?'

'What dat?'

'Dare dose Dom and Gacie and Daddy!'

She kept up a steady stream of conversation and singing and counting the entire rest of the way home. When we pulled in the drive, we sat for a few moments, singing another song or two. Then she stated very matter of factly...

'I done. Go in and eet now.'

That child is my Sunshine, folks. She thrives on smiles. Giving as well as receiving.