Friday, March 27, 2009
We have the very best home teachers, for lots and lots of reasons. See the sandbox above? It is filled with sand, with a lid to cover it, thanks to our home teacher Keith. Oh, and all the sandbox toys, too. The best part? As Grace said, "They sneaked to our house and put sand in the sandbox while we were sleeping! Home teachers are so sneaky!" The kids played in the sandbox for FOUR hours last Saturday (which gives Mommy a whole new list of reasons to be thankful...). When I called to thank Keith and Susan for not only providing the stuff, but also doing all the work, Susan said that Keith loaded the sand up after dark so the kids would be surprised the next day with their new sandbox. It worked!
A few weeks ago we went out for a Sunday afternoon walk. The kids were running far ahead when one of the girls accidentally bumped Eric and knocked him down. In what looked like something from a Three Stooges movie, their friend Adalyn couldn't stop her bike in time and ran right into Eric as he bawled on the ground. I ran for him, but our home teachers got there first. Lindsay was down on the ground, Eric in his arms, wiping his face and telling him he was a brave boy, letting Eric wipe his snotty, teary face all over his suit.
My favorite thing about official home teaching visits is watching my kids dogpile the home teachers. Once upon a time we started out with Mom and kids on the long sofa, and the home teachers sat on the loveseat. It has now become Mom alone on the long sofa, with two home teachers on the loveseat, wedged in all around and under small children. If one of my kids can't find a lap, she will drape herself across the top of the loveseat, just to be close to the home teachers.
A recent conversation with Mercie:
Mommy: Who are all the people who love you?
Mercie: Gwace and Mia and Ewic and Mommy and Daddy.
Mommy: Who else?
Mercie: Gwampa and Aunt Sue!
Mommy: Who else?
Mercie: Gwampa Bob. And Emily.
Mommy: Anyone else?
Mercie: HOME TEACHERS!
For some reason lately I've been thinking a lot about the term "ministry" and how we don't often use it to describe what we do in our family relationships and in our church responsibilities, and how maybe we should. The most important ministering seems to be the personal, one-on-one ministry that constituted so much of Jesus Christ's life.
I'm counting us lucky-- okay, blessed-- to have home teachers who follow His example.
Here's to wonderful, caring, "sneaky" home teachers!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
March 18th, 2009 @ 9:44am
By Phil Archer, NBC Newschannel
A newborn's cries may have saved her life. The baby, who was just about an hour old, was discovered stuffed in a trash bag and left in an old dryer in southwest Houston, Texas on Tuesday. Investigators said the baby is safe, but they are worried about her mother.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Yeah, that would be a mostly-decomposed mouse corpse, surrounded by mouse feces and I-don't-want-to-know-what-else.
You bet your sweet booty I screamed. Loudly. I made it up that half-flight of stairs in one leap, and that's no small feat for a chubby, huffy, nearing-middle-age Mommy.
I won't tell you what it took to get me back down there to take the picture, but it involved ingesting pills that made me feel all floaty and nice and even able to think about mice with only a little bit of shuddering and whimpering. This is SOOO not cute.
On the other hand, these folks have the right idea. If only their aim were better.
I think my plan at this point is to lay big ol' cinder blocks across the doorway to the storage room, with thick layers of mortar between them. The mouse vault can be sealed off from the rest of the house. I'll keep food storage items in the laundry room. The rodents can rest in peace and I can give the happy pills back to B.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
1.) Thou shalt not open the blinds in Mommy's bedroom to see if it snowed when Mommy is getting dressed. Especially during the split second that she is completely naked. And most especially if the next-door neighbor has just stepped out to let the dog out a mere four feet away from said window.
2.) Thou shalt not take it into thy little heads to go play at the park without first consulting Mommy. Same rule applies for going to Jackson's house, or Adalyn's house, or Timmy & Hallie's house, or ANYWHERE outside the boundaries of our yard.
3.) Thou shalt not yank down the window coverings in thy room and use the curtain rod as your weapon in a 'swordfight' with thy sister, especially when the sister is an unwilling participant in a one-sided swordfight. Nor shalt thou use this same curtain rod to gouge long skid marks in the wall after Mommy puts an end to the swordfight.
4.) Thou shalt not tell the babysitter--or anyone else--, "I like to tickle my privates because they are so tickly, but Mommy says there is no tickling privates until we are married. I'm going to get married when I'm very old, like fifteen."
5.) Thou shalt not strip down naked, put a bookshelf on the bed and climb on it to reach the ceiling fan, use the ceiling fan to swing out into the room and drop onto a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor. And when Mommy breaks up the party, thou shalt not threaten to move to Daddy's house, because honey--if you think Mommy didn't go for the ceiling fan gymnastics, just try it on Daddy's ceiling fan.
6.) Thou shalt not attempt going to the temple on a special date with Mom looking like the Whore of Babylon after pilfering Mommy's makeup bag to score glittery purple eyeshadow, clumpy mascara, and bright red lipstick.
7.) Thou shalt not wake up at 3 am and whine & cry to sleep in Mommy's bed. And when Mommy takes pity on you, thou DEFINITELY shalt not pee all over Mommy's brand new sheets that she just put on a few hours earlier, most especially when she was waiting until the next paycheck to get the waterproof mattress protector.
8.) Thou shalt not tell the daycare teacher that Mommy got divorced so she could marry Grandpa.
9.) Thou shalt not steal all of thy sisters' money. When Mommy catches you, thou shalt not quickly stuff said money down thy diaper in a desperate bid to keep it safe.
10.) Thou shalt not refer to thy mother as "Oldilocks," no matter how accurate or how tempting it may be.
Just another fun-filled week at our house.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
Yesterday while getting ready for church--
Eric (dancing around the room naked): I have a penis! I have a penis! I ha-a-a-a-ve a penis!
Mommy: Yes, Eric you do have a penis. Now settle down and come get dressed.
Eric: Mercie has a penis, too.
Mommy: No, Mercie is a girl, so Mercie has a... (wait, let it come)...
Eric: A penis!
Mommy: No, girls don't have penises. What do girls have that boys don't have?
Only at our house.
B.) After church we went for a walk. Everyone was still in their Sunday clothes, so the girls were twirling around and pretending to be princesses.
Mommy: Wow, Mia, you look just like a princess in that twirly dress.
Eric: (pouting) I want to be a princess, too.
Mommy: How 'bout you can be a prince? A very handsome prince who fights the bad guys and saves the princesses?
Eric: No! I just want to be a princess and twirl!
Mia: Mommy, I think Eric is not exactly a boy.
Mommy: What do you mean?
Mia: I think he is like a girl-boy.
Mommy: What is a girl-boy?
Mia: It's like a boy, because he has a penis, but it's like a girl because he only wants to be a princess and stuff. So he's a girl-boy.
Seriously, with kids like these, who needs cable?
Thursday, March 05, 2009
In literate adult speak, that would be, "Gum. Mom, give us gum."
Yes, I am reinforcing a shameless lack of civility (you'll note the lack of "please" anywhere in the note), but I promptly slipped gum under the bedroom doors.
You're never too young to learn that written words are powerful things.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Friday, March 13, 8:30pm, my house. No book this month; we're talking Important Issues & Stuff.
I tried to nail it down to a specific topic, most especially because Eric had a very compelling argument for the role of media in civic involvement, and he used so many big words in persuading me that he proved himself a lifelong member of the snobby & elite salon group. But even as I typed out a blog post detailing the topic, I knew in my heart of hearts that we'd probably meander all over the universe, as usual, and so it seemed pointless to dictate a central theme.
If this sounds too dull, consider this: I thought about doing a group viewing of the Emma Thompson/Hugh Grant Sense & Sensibility, but I think even being surrounded by favorite people wouldn't make that more palatable.
For April--Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I haven't read it since I was ten or so. This should be fun.