Thursday, December 27, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Spitting Condition

Our youngest daughter has a condition that I'm not sure if I should be concerned about or not. I mean, it doesn't currently effect us (really), but I'm thinking it might effect the relationship with, say, her future husband. She has a spitting condition. Yes, you read right, a spitting condition. Not a dirty habit, spitting condition, like you hear from the most vulgar commercial you can imagine (you know the one, I need not expound here), but one never-the-less that is, well, very unique to the little lady to which it belongs. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to explain this because you almost need to hear this to "appreciate" it. Allow me to elaborate...

First of all, when I brush my teeth, I brush, brush, brush, and SPIT. Brush, brush, brush, and SPIT. Rinse, swish, swish, swish, and SPIT. You get the idea, right? I think MOST people brush their teeth like this. I think it's the more common than not this-is-the-way-we-brush-our-teeth societal norm. Well, that's not exactly the norm our six year old adheres to.
When she brushes her teeth it goes something more like THIS. Brush, brush, brush, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT,SPIT,SPIT,SPIT. Brush, brush, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT,SPIT,SPIT,SPIT,SPIT. Rinse, swish, swish, swish, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, SPIT, and SPIT. And these musical "spits" that she so delicately performs has a unique sound. A sound like the machine you hear at the batting cage that whirls a baseball at your bat (if you're positioned right) at amazingly high speeds..."pe-tuey". And SOMETIMES, depending on what our day encompassed, we might hear a musical melody out of the ensemble. For instance, if we had watched Annie that day her spits might match the tune you so fragrantly remember to be "Tomorrow". (S-P-I-T...SPIT,SPIT,SPIT,SP-IT...spitspitspit...) I'm NOT kidding. She even looses teeth in this process. She's lost two so far, and thus, the way BOTH of them have left her body.
And the worst part about it (if it's possible), because of how science works, the less 'stuff' she has to spit, the farther it travels. The first spit is assured it's rightful place, appropriately landing in the sink, but the 1124 remaining spits, as the resources are depleted, travel through the air behaving like a sneeze landing everywhere EXCEPT the sink (aka - mirror, faucet, wall, toilet, big sister standing next to her brushing HER teeth [the repercussions of this last destination is a post in and of itself]...).

The Bible tells me not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow can take care of itself, but I don't think God thought through the lasting effects this one could have on our little ones future - I think I should be worried! What do think?

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Christmas By Flashlight

This is our first year EVER to be by ourselves (no extended family) at Christmas. We could do whatever we wanted with this holiday, no holds barred, so we shook things up a little. After we all, we are 'wild & crazy' folks. Ha! Ha!

My husband and I devised, as seemingly, great plan. We decided to have our Christmas today; presents and the whole enchilada. We want to serve in the community a bit tomorrow, so this was the 'perfect' plan. We, however, did not tell the girls, thinking if they didn't know, we could sleep in hence having our cake and eat it too. NOT!

A little bit of rustling woke us earlier than WE were intending, but we decided to check it out. My husband looked under the door and saw little feet and the illumination from flashlights. Those turkeys were checking out all the goods. When we went out, they were so excited to know - they didn't have to wait another day.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Ali-ism; A Mini Post About Absent-Mindedness

After dinner out last night, I decided to drive, proceeding around the turnabout, which is just a lane that makes a U-turn legal. However, once I turned us around, I forgot why I had originally headed us in that direction. As we all laughed about my absent-mindedness our oldest chimed in and said:

"That's OK mom, I understand, I went into the bathroom today and forgot why I was there. When I returned to my bedroom, I remembered the whole reason I had gone in there was to go to the bathroom."

As, I'm sure you can imagine, I couldn't possibly feel as silly as I had prior to her comment - after all, who could top that, and even-more-so, who would want to try?

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Bless-U's

This morning our youngest, age 6, had a sneezing fit. After the fit was over, nose blown, and all the tears wiped from her cheeks and eyes she looked up and me, giggled and said:

"Boy, that sure was a lot of 'bless you-s', huh?

She is under the impression sneezes are called bless you-s because every time she sneezes we say "bless you" to her.

The sad part is - I don't want to tell her what the legitimate name is. Hey, give me a break, it's not as if she will go the rest of her life without knowing the proper term...her husband will tell her, I'm sure!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Emily's Thoughts on Our Dog's Hips

A friend of our daughters, back in Iowa, made a comment some time ago that has held meaning to this day. You see, we have a Golden Retriever that is not really FAT, but she is built just really big. Her rib cage and her hips are very broad, hence making her look fat. One day she was laying on the floor on her belly (head down between her paws). As this child came through, from behind, she looked over and exclaimed (with total innocence) "ARE THOSE HER HIPS?" We all laughed and to this day we always tease our Golden, asking her if those are her hips, but recently the subject came up in another way.

We were going through town and just in front of us was a truck, to be specific a Ford Duly (not sure of the spelling). Our youngest looked out and exclaimed "ARE THOSE ITS HIPS?". We were reminded of friends and good times as we all marveled at how the back end of this type of truck looks like a broad set of hips. So, Em & Mac, when you are going through town with mom, and you see one of the MANY trucks like this you can think of Ali & Syd the same as we think of you so often. Thanks for the great memories!

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Pulling My Hair Out

We were on our way to church this morning, running miserably behind schedule so I was "primping" in the car. Brushing my hair, which automatically calls for me to gather all the loose hair that is dangling from the bottom edge (you know what I'm saying ladies). Our six year old, very innocently, engages in conversation with me (with an interjection from daddy)...

Child: "Mommy, why do you always pull hair out of your head?"

Mom: "Just the loose hairs, so they don't get on or go down my shirt and tickle my back."

Dad: "I told mom she should just shave her head, BALD and wear a hat."

Mom: "No, Sydney knows I can't do that. Why not Sydney?"

Child: (long pause with sincere thought)"..........................UM, because you don't have a hat?"

Mom: "No Syd, I mean, what does the Bible say a woman's hair is for?"

Child: "Oh, yeah, her covering."

At this point the entire car was filled with laughter and suggestions for this conversation to be my next blog entry. So, wha-lah!

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Ali-ism; Eating the Prophets

Every Monday I bake an insane amount of snacks for my husband to take to work with him on Tuesday for others to buy. Kind of a little side business that gives me a sweet, little "Goodwill Fund". His co-workers love the banana bread, cookies, brownies, and bread that I make so hubby has become the homemade-snack-vending-guy at work. Just the other day he came home confessing to me that he had ‘sinned’ and eaten a chunk of banana bread. That he just couldn’t help it – it was calling out his name (during one of his many snacking frenzies).

Bunny-trail for those of you who don’t know my husband - his appearance is that of a man being attacked by a killer tapeworm. He is six feet of tall, dark, handsome, and 160lbs, soaked to the skin. But the sickening thing about all of it is that he eats more that most of us put together. You can set your watch to the twenty-minute-after-supper-stomach-growl. No kidding…twenty minutes after we eat, he is in the kitchen scourging through the fridge and cupboards because his "stomach is eating his liver". I really don’t know how it all happens, but it does and it doesn’t settle with me as fair since he is the one that eats the 3000 calorie diet and I am the one that gains the weight from it as I begrudgingly suck down Slim Fast in order to counteract his super-charged, over-active, above and beyond metabolism, BREATH, but this post isn’t about his eating habits anyway.

Back to the issue at hand, him eating the banana bread. I do however want to make it clear that I DO NOT tell him that he cannot have any snacks. I, in fact, encourage him to eat more because I noticed that one of the dimples in MY southern hemisphere disappeared and I’m concerned that I will wither and blow away ;) There I go again –

So my darling husband comes in the house telling me (with ALL the dramatics) how he ate this chunk of banana bread, that he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he just gave in to his fleshy desires, etc…. I played in by telling him it was fine, I forgive him. And with our twelve year old in ear-shot he says (as he’s acting like he’s crying) NO……. it’s not ok, I’m eating up all the profits.

Our witty twelve-ear-old chimes and tells him….

"Dad, you can’t eat the prophets, they’re already dead."


Another day, another Alli-ism, another opportunity to "count it all joy".

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Penetrating Phenomenon

I was not raised a debutante or pageant contestant, but I do recall being instructed that certain things were not allowed at the dinner table.

We have recently encountered a gross, disgusting phenomenon that literally penetrates the ambiance of our dinnertime. We could be talking about anything, today's topic of conversation was sand dollars, when all of a sudden one of my delightful daughters will turn red in the face, start laughing, and let loose with a gaseous combustion, coming from either the north or the south poles, that is not appreciated by the others at the table. Our oldest knows better and most of the time, when it happens to come from her, it is truly an accident. Our youngest ticking time-bomb, however, does this and acts as if she is doing a dutiful service for the rest of family. As if we are the ones out of line when we respond with anything other than "thank you so much for gracing us with your fragrant presence". We truly thought this was just a stage and let it go for a while. It has only continued and I am gradually loosing hair from the pollution in our home (I stay home with them all day).
Well, we put a stop to it as of today. If either one of our 'little ladies' happens to slip - she looses mealtime. Whichever meal we are partaking in. Our oldest knew we weren't joking and did well in minding her own wind tonight, but our youngest must have thought we wouldn't DARE do anything as destructive as make her go hungry. (You see, if this happens they not only are excused from the table immediately loosing THAT meal, but they are not allowed to partake in a desert (if there happens to be one) or a bedtime snack. ) About five minutes into dinner she (our youngest) let loose with a belch that made me think of the cartoon characters belching; you know the ones - mouth open wide with their lips rippling from the immense amount of airflow. Well, she looked at me to see what was going to happen. With a quick flip of my thumb I pointed to the other room and told her "You're going to be hungry - go on". Of course she went off crying and guilt set it, but I know that little things like this have to be done in order to make a change.

In any case - the next time we want wind at the dinner table we will be opening the windows.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

It's My Time

our church has planned a "fall" (at 93 degrees) potluck picnic. After the eats anyone who believes can be baptized in the beautiful river right here in our grand city. As our oldest daughter and I were talking about the upcoming event, while traveling in the van the other day, our youngest chimed in and said..."is it my time mommy?" Being very careful not to encourage such a thing for the wrong reason I said to her "well, I don't know, do YOU think it's time?". She replied with a very confident and matter of fact answer..."well mommy, I believe in Jesus, I believe He is God's son, and I believe he died for my sins, yes mommy, I believe it's my time." How could I repute this answer with any more than I'll talk with Daddy about it tonight. As Daniel and I talked throughout the evening we were both convinced that she was ready. It was "her time". So we told her that if she wanted to be baptized in the river, she had to go to Pastor herself and tell him.

This morning our youngest daughter marched right up to Pastor Tom (with me behind her) after service and said to him "Pastor, it's my turn today to be that alright?" He, after talking with us, looked at my husband and said "you're doing it brother". Needless to say, this afternoon Daddy baptized his youngest daughter into the family of Christ. I thought that was soo........ cool. Our oldest and I were standing on the bank of the river with tears streaming down our faces, singing the old hymn Baptized on the Banks" and all I could think was, boy am I Blessed or what!!!
Praise be to God!

Friday, September 28, 2007

WARNING: this post may make you nautious or squeamish if you keep reading - just know that I warned

(No picture added, for obvious reasons!!!)

OK, so the whole family is on the way home from our Bible study this past Wednesday night. I don't exactly know how, but we (the whole family) became involved in a conversation about, what else, nose hair. This is where true homeschooling comes in. My husband begins to explain to our two daughters the reason for all of the many, tiny hairs in our nose. He begins, "They filter all the bad stuff like dust and pollution out of the air before it goes into our lungs." he continues on "that's what all the gross, slimy buggers (hence my forewarning) in our noses are made up of. After they have served their purpose of filtering the air, we blow our nose or sneeze and that gets rid of all that bad stuff."

And these were the next three lines of this titillating conversation: 

Daughter 2 (6 years old): Oh man, the slimy ones are my favorite!!!

Daughter 1 (12 years old): I use to like the crunchy ones...

Mom & Dad (in unison): TO EAT? YUCK, GROSS, JUST STOP!!!!!!

And you wonder "how in the world can she say she finds joy in this sort of thing"? It was the one thing from the entire day that, when I thought of it, made me giggle over my brutally honest, wonderful, little girls. There is no better way to go to sleep than with a smile on your face thinking of how great your family is. That's how.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

She's Gonna Blow

She's gonna blow captain, head for cover!

Sound like a line from some movie you've seen anytime in your past? Yeah, well...those old time flicks are not what I am referring to. NOPE... that is what my two daughters were saying to each other just yesterday as my ears got red, my face flushed, and beads of sweats dripping from my brow. Oh boy... I haven't had a melt down like that in FOREVER. The sad part of it all is I can't remember what it was that sparked my, although infrequent, time bomb-like temper yesterday. Maybe it was the impetuous nagging of my six year old to "train her new bird". Yes, I said bird. Our adorable, highly intelligent, little cup of sugar and spice and everything nice convinced us that the ONLY thing she wanted for her birthday was a Parakeet.

Cute, little, feathery NUISANCE. In any case... allow me explain what training her bird, which will be referred to as "Willie" hence forth, entails. Upon the opening of the cage the ear-drum shaking, high pitch screeching of this little - bundle of joy - begins. He wants to come out, but is too scared to do anything about it so he sits on his perch and SCREAMS at you to pick him up, which he won't let you do anyway. If you stick your finger in to bring him out, he bites you. See, "Willie" is a hand raised bird from birth which is wonderful (in theory), but the sad truth of the matter is a six year old little GIRL (the new owner), hand raised is only good enough if it means perfect. With high hopes and only so much birthday money to spend she tells the lady in the pet store which bird she wants and the transaction takes place. What you weren't betting on was the cashier telling you that you owe twice as much of your birthday money for the bird as you thought it was going to cost (because he's hand raised). OK, paid. Get him home with high hopes of your new feathery friend riding around on your shoulder, sitting on the edge of your plate sharing pancakes on Saturday morning, and watching episodes of Little House on the Prairie together snuggled with your favorite pillow..... is all blown to smithereens when your bird bites your fingers, faces the wall, and won't exit his new home/cage. Sure the bird was hand raised, but he was raised by ANOTHER PERSON (please take note here - interested in birds for your kids - don't be taken by the whole they're more expensive because I've hand raised them - it's a scam, I suggest if your local pet store owner has to charge more for the birds he/she loves enough to interact with it might be the wrong business for him/her - ever heard of a petting zoo, lady?). In any case he, your bird, doesn't care about his hand training, all he cares about is that his 'real' owner is not there. Anyway - back to our six-year-old's training of her bird. We open they cage and invite the bird to come out. When he doesn't respond the owner gently puts her finger in the cage in hopes that he will be interested in hopping onto her finger. Instead he just bites her finger, which is caustic in a little girl's world. So then we must evaluate the bite, which I'm sure hurt, but all it did was leave an indention. Back to the bathroom we go for first-aid salve and a band aid. This is more for the emotional effect rather than physical. With a pep talk and some encouragement it's back to the cage and try again. In goes the hand and out FLIES "Willie". Then you have to move chairs, tables, 50 pound bags of wheat, shoes, etc... in order to get to the bird and attempt to get him on your finger. Once on your finger and you are standing upright, there he goes again. In the living room this time, behind the piano, in the furnace closet. FINALLY, you get him on your finger and head back to his cage (swiftly) because you are so exhausted from chasing him around that you don't want that bird out anymore. Once he fashions sight of his cage he flies again, only he didn't make it into his cage because the bird doesn't realize that he can't fly long distances. So you have to fight getting him on your hand AGAIN. Around the cage you go... first one way... and then the other. Finally, after MOM gets the bird in his cage and the adorable, highly intelligent, cup of sugar and spice and everything nice (who conveniently disappeared into the other room to play with Littlest Petshop) asks you... can I train my bird now mommy. I'm sure you heard about the earthquake just recently, right? Well, that wasn't really an earthquake, that was me tell her NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, it registered on the graph. In any case, "thar she blew" - in a nut shell.

Thursday, May 31, 2007


Even as I sit here, a midst all the hullabaloo, I am reminded of the verse in the Bible that tells us that no matter what the situation may be, keep always your eyes on the Lord. Are you wondering what all the hullabaloo is? We're moving. That says it all and then some, but I am at the stage where the truck is to be loaded tomorrow afternoon so as I'm sure you're aware (if you've ever moved) I'm using nice language by calling it what I am. Each and every room in our house, which is normally very organized, looks as if an F5 twister has just "reorganized". I can however look at all the boxes, gigantic orange trash bags, mud trampled through the house, dog hair GALORE, Styrofoam cups, plastic forks, peanut butter and jelly on the counter knowing that our God knows what is happening, what is going to happen, and what has already happened. He is the Author and Finisher of all that I am doing right at this very minute. That is SO comforting to me. BUT even more than that - I find Joy today in knowing that in less than twenty-four hours (and counting) my best friend, the love of my life, father of my children will be on his way here after nine LONG awaited weeks of being apart. And I find myself feeling totally FRAZZLED about what I am going to be wearing and how I'm going to greet him. Something like that of a teenager awaiting her date to the prom. How cool is that? After the better part of ten years and I'm still getting nervous butterflies!!!!

Monday, May 28, 2007

Fudge Bars and Pork Roast

This is going to be very short, but I just have to write about this - it's so cute!

Today, for lunch, the girls and I had leftover pork roast and potatoes from last evening's dinner; with the promise of a fudge bar for a 'sweet' afterwards. After finishing our meal (and our sweet) I made the comment, from one room to the other, that we still had one leftover that someone could have the next day for lunch. Our oldest daughter announced "...I call first dibs on the pork roast.", which I thought was going to cause a conflict. As it turned out, our younger daughter, surprising me, had a different agenda. She announced, quite seriously "...I call first dibs on the fudge bars.".

Like mother like daughter =)

Saturday, May 26, 2007

My Birthday

I just had to share what my kids did for my birthday today. They are such great kids and this is just another reminder of it. The entire day was focused on my birthday. Not that they needed to do this, but they thought it was grand to really make mom center of attention for the day. Here's how the day progressed...

...All of us in the kitchen making breakfast (Syd - eggs, Mom - bacon, Ali - toast).

...Girls in the kitchen making a birthday cake (from SCRATCH - not too shabby for being 12,5).

...My shower for the day (extra long birthday shower where I actually had time to shave)
(During this time the girls scurried around to decorate the dining room [from the ingredients in our party box] in order to throw me a "surprise party". They went all out, putting up a banner, table cover, plates, napkins, cups [homemade] and decorated the cake with some leftover tubed icing I had laying around. )


...Cake, fudge bars and of course the two of them singing happy birthday to me.

...Outside to find "birthday flowers" for me.

It was just the sweetest birthday I could have had. It makes me so proud they enjoy serving others so much (and it doesn't have to be me they're serving).

PS - my wonderful husband didn't forget my birthday either, even though he is 1000 miles away;

Friday, May 11, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Problems

Every night we have a bedtime routine that happens with each of our children. A very special good night course of events that is completely separate of the other.

With our oldest daughter, we sit and talk with her for a bit of things that happened throughout the day, month, year that she has conveniently forgot to talk to us about until bedtime. This conversation usually consists of what she is going to do when she gets older, how many kids she'll have, what so-in-so said to her three years ago, what her sister did to her earlier in the day, etc....

Our youngest daughter was given the gift of a prayer book that she loves to read from. It is a very big deal when we come into her room because, at this point in her life, she is beginning to read and loves to read these prayers HERSELF (and mommy loves to see her accomplishments). At the end of each of the prayers there is a reference of where in the Bible it comes from. Tonight's prayer, as she read it, was from "Problems" aka - Proverbs. I could hardly bite back the laughter that I felt welling up on the inside of me.

I bet God gets a good kick out of the things that kids say too.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Tiny Hiny

As we all know, every child goes through certain, however, different phases in their childhood. Our five year old is going through her "animal stage". This stage, as I'm sure you are quite aware if you have kids, is where they like to pretend they are a certain type of animal and go about their day in the life, as it would be, of that certain animal. Well, our dear one loves to be a tiger right now. She moves very swiftly and efficiently on all fours, but truly sounds like a horse through the house rather than anything from the feline family. In any regard - recently we finished school for the day and with an elated voice asked if she could play tiger. I responded with the usual "yes you can, we're finished".

Just a little disclosure.....

She was wearing her favorite pink skirt, matching shirt, and COWBOY BOOTS. This is the same child that I referred to in the "snow boot" post that LOVES boots. So as she turns her body in preparation to take off on her animal adventures she positioned herself to face away from me, which means her "tiny-hiney" was in my direction. She leaped forward in her northward direction to begin the adventure, but instead her animal instincts were surpressed by way of the full moon. The heal of her boot had snagged on the hem of her skirt pulling it down and by virtue of that happening, her skirt pulled her panties down as well, bearing the full moon. She was devastated in what had just happened, but handled it well with a red face and big smile.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Ali-ism; Word PROBLEMS

Today was just like any other day. We get up and have breakfast, do dishes, chores, and schoolwork. I love the job God has given me. I couldn't imagine doing anything else. I LOVE schooling my girls here at home (and at the grocery store). As I was in the produce department today I had to give our oldest word problems (aaaahhhhhh!!!) about the produce we were purchasing. The horrifying look that comes over her face is priceless when I ask her...

" OK, how much will it cost us to buy these strawberries at the incredible price of $.99/lb when the scale says we have 2.25 pounds of them?" 

Just to let you know, she was able to tell me, with minimal coaxing...

"ALMOST $2.25 mom..."

Then the next thing that proceeded out of her mouth makes me even more proud of her...

"it would be even more better if they were $.99/2 pounds mom."

I had to agree - regardless of her grammatical tactic.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Ali-ism; The Combo

The other day our oldest daughter and I were having a conversation. Did I mention it was a TYPICAL kind of twelve-year-old conversation? You know the kind...nodding your head as much as possible to convey that you are still coherent and paying attention to all of the meaningful tidbits. Trying, as hard as you can, to keep a sweet smile on your face so it's understood you 'want' to be having this conversation because you have nothing better to be doing with your time - while, in your mind, you are yelling at the top of your lungs, petitioning for her to GET TO THE POINT, I'm going to the bathroom. I know you can relate! Now, mind you, this is the child that can remember ANYTHING, from ANY given point of her life (birth canal to present), but cannot seem to remember the rightful names of common things (hamburger, aka "happyburger" - barbecue sauce, aka "chicken dial" - garlic bread, aka "greasy bread" - turkey roast, aka "squishy meat" - salisbury steak, aka "raspberry steak") you get the idea, right?

So, during this conversation, talking about one specific event from our recent trip, she was trying to start with where this event was taking place. In doing so she COULD NOT, for the life of her, remember what the very large building, with bedrooms, we stayed in, while away from home on a vacation was called, so she started down the list: hotel, motel, townhouse, apartment, I know mom.....the "combo" we were staying in (OK folks, we stayed in a coNDo). I know, you probably had to be there, but to me that is just another one to add to the list.


Friday, April 20, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Cat On a Stick

We have just recently had the privilege of lunch at our family's favorite Chinese buffet. We enjoy this restaurant, but in our OWN family humor we found something on the buffet that, although we love it, we gave it our own name. This would not be a name that I would want to share with say.....the owners or anything, just an inside joke for our ears only. The item, to which I am referring, is baked chicken on a skewer that has a reddish color on the outside.

Just a short preface about how it got it's name...

One day, while enjoying the chicken, our youngest daughter (about 4 years at the time) asked us what it was. We told her (family humor inserted here) that it was called "cat on a stick". We have since told her what it is truthfully, but from that point on we have referred to it, amongst ourselves, as "cat on a stick".

Well, during our most recent visit we seated ourselves about twelve feet away from the buffet area. Our oldest daughter made a trip back to the buffet for more just as fresh food was brought out (by the owners). She excitedly turned around and announced, in a clear, audible voice.... "Mom, they have more 'cat on a stick'...".

Out of the mouth of babes....

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Garage Sale Gluttony

Today was the first of our 4 day "garage sale extravaganza". Every year we seem to gather, from all over the house, enough STUFF to fill another house. And yet our house is FAR from empty.

In any case, there is nothing more pleasing than having a garage sale that you don't have the all the necessaries for (tables, change, hangers...). And you schedule it to start at a certain time and people start arriving an hour and a half before that. Needless to say I was running around like a mad-woman trying to do this and that. And to top it all off my little darlings decided to have a Kool-Aid stand. Which I have to admire their gumption, but that, in and of itself, was quite......challenging.

As if all of this weren't enough, some friends brought over some of their things to get rid of and you would have thought that I had taken my children shopping or something. I heard, over and over and over, "mom look at this", "oh, mom isn't this cute", "mom, can I have this", "oh mom, this would be perfect for...". But the best, above all the rest of this "garage sale gluttony" was my oldest daughter coming to me with a dollar bill in hand asking to buy - Are you ready for this? - an item in the sale that was hers to begin with. Is that not just the end-all-be-all? You gotta love 'em. We'll have a good laugh at that one for some time to come. Love ya kiddo!!!

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Tender Toes and Tickles

I have to make this one as quick as I can since it is so late, but I wanted to post tonight.
Earlier this evening our 5 year old daughter petitioned for a manicure/pedicure. She had a new dress that she wanted to wear and her nails (fingers AND toes) had to match the new ensemble. I agreed and then looked at her nails. EVERY tip of EVERY phalange was no longer transparent. As a matter of fact, all twenty looked as if she had been digging a grave in a freshly watered garden. THEY WERE BLACK. I'm not just whistling dixie here, I mean to say, the sweet aroma of fresh compost could be smelled from all corners of the house.

Needless to say we had to excavate her nails. We dug and we dug until the dirt was out of her fingernails. With seemingly no trouble, she washed hands REALLY good, and painted with a very delicate color of purple that would match the dress. Then came the feet.
To preface just a tad - she took after her daddy and has VERY ticklish feet. Every time we wash her feet she goes into a frenzy. Now, cleaning the toenails have always been sort of an issue because every time you get the tool near her toes she starts having a jerking fit, screaming, and laughing. I'm not sure if it hurts her or if she is just so incredibly ticklish that she can't even stand the thought. Well, today was nearly the same with one exception - today as I started the excavation process on her toes she started PRAYING. "Oh, help me me Lord...". The following was the short conversation we had.

Why? What are you laughing at mommy?

Just you sweet-pea.

What did I do?

Praying for God to help you. I just found your words funny.

What's so funny about it mommy? Didn't you say God would help us with anything?

Yes I did and obviously you have a better grasp on it that even I do. Good job!

Hey, at least she's listening!!!

Friday, April 13, 2007

Snippets From Syd; Tangles and Torments

Is there anyone out there who can give me a sure fire way of tangle-free hair? I know that I probably shouldn't be using this as a post to one that I find Joy in, but I can't just can't help it. Our youngest daughter has a lot of very fine, long hair. Every day we battle with the same thing - brushing her hair. Not that the act, in itself, is any big deal, but the tangles are terrible. Maybe it's not the tangles at all - maybe it's simply the tender head of this particular child.

I don't know.

I myself do not have issues with this therefore I cannot understand why, when we encounter a tangle of seemingly normal magnitude, she lets loose with a sound that is comparable to a female cat in the mating process. For those of you who have not had the utmost privilege of hearing this sound before - it is the most haneous sound that you can possibly hear in this natural world. I cannot think of a sound that I would rather NOT hear more than this particular one. I'm sorry if this is offensive, but I cannot think of another sound that is even in the running.

I admit when I brush through my hair or our oldest daughter brushes though her hair (both being longer in length) encountering tangles, it is not all cotton candy and lolly pops, but it's a simple OUCH! and that's about the extent of it.

I get worried toward bedtime.

This time of the day signifying the ritualistic brushing through of the trampoline jumping, wind blown, bike riding, wrestling with the dog, and somersault in the grass tangles. I sometimes worry about what the neighbors are thinking of us? As she screams like bloody murder ~ I try to comfort her using a voice that must be louder than hers (so she can hear me past the cat's shrill) with a still loving tone.

I can just imagine our neighbors setting their clocks to chime at 7:45pm as a reminder to turn up their televisions so they don't hear that "poor child whaling" as her mother torments her.

In any case, if any of you have advice on tangle free hair (that doesn't make hair look like you haven't washed in weeks), I would be most glad to hear from you. In the meantime, happy brushing!

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Hamballs and Spinach

Like I said in my last post - I am really trying to take the good from each and every day to find Joy in. Today was a good day, and although nothing "spectacular" happened I must praise the Lord for EVEN the little things.

I have been blessed with children (and a husband) that will eat just about anything I put in front of them on the table. However, if they didn't they wouldn't eat since I stick to the 'ol "this is what dinner is tonight, if you don't like it, you'll be hungry" attitude. In any case, even my children are so good about trying new things and liking most of the foods they do try.
Today we had family in for our oldest daughter's birthday celebration and I fixed hamballs, potatoes, and fresh spinach salad. When my kids asked what we were having for lunch I told them what was on the menu for the day. In unison, they piped up with joyous expression and excitement, rubbing their tummies as they made the "MMMMMMM....." noise you hear when you mention ice cream to kids, thanking Jesus for hamballs and spinach.

How much better could it get? The word euphoric can be used to describe my immediate feelings on the matter!!! Hallelujah.........

Friday, April 06, 2007

Ali-iam; Maturity

I have been putting a conscience effort into finding, and remembering, the things that happen from day to day, that I can look back on and laugh, smile, or just receive Joy in.

Yesterday our oldest child turned 12. Of course the schedule for the day was intermingled with many phone calls from family and friends to tell her happy birthday or sing to her that sweet little ditty that nobody can quite make sound "sweet". However, there was one call that I overheard and was later explained. It went something like this:

Grandpa:  Well, hello and Happy Birthday!!!

Child:  Thank you, Grandpa.

Grandpa:  Well, how is your day going?

Child:  Good.

Grandpa:  How do you feel? Being the big 1-2 now?

Child:  (in all seriousness) A lot more MATURE.

Oh, to be that mature again. That, folks, was just another Ali-ism.
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