kid-isms

The pictures are not cooperating with me, so they are stacked for your viewing pleasure.
I don't think there is anything that could have prepared me for the mind of this 5 year old. I know that I've shared some of the zingers he's thrown at me on facebook, but he's been adding to his repertoire. That's a weird word. Anyway. The questions of a spiritual nature are especially eye-opening, convicting, and make this mama's heart sing with praise. (I swear Jack knows I'm a p.k., or something, and therefore I KNOW the answers to these eschatological inquiries).
In the car a few weeks ago: ALWAYS IN THE CAR. I can't multitask like that, son. Sheesh.

"Mom, the fact that Jesus was dead, and then came back to life was a miracle." (Not asked. Just stated very matter-of-factly).

Me: "Jack, you CAN'T do things like that because you could die! Do you understand?!"
With tears streaming down his sweet face, "But I want to see what God looks like!!"

And you can't pull anything cartoon-like off on this one, either. During one of the many viewings of VeggieTales' rendition of Moses and the Israelites' leaving Egypt, aptly title "Mo and the Big Exit," well, let's just say that the plagues inflicted upon the inhabitants of Dodgeball City were more Western. (Yes, that was a horribly contructed run-on sentence). One of these afore-mentioned plagues was a tornado that ripped through the town rather quickly, for the sake of fitting all 10 into the little annoying song. It really looked more like a sand storm in the shape of a funnel cloud.
Picture it: "Mom, that CAN"T be a tornado because the sky isn't even green." And don't even get me started on my dinosaur related lectures.


My sweet Will. Where do I start? His newest thing is to tell us that things are on his list.
Me: "Okay, let's get ready to go to the pool."
Will: "Is it the one with the bucket?"
Me: "Yes."
Will: "Oh, good. That one's on my list."
His favorite picture to draw right now is of "tormados," which is so appropriate to Will's nature. He's our little whirling dirvish, but with the most sensitive, and sweet little heart. I tell him often that he has to stay 3. He's a constant exhausting joy. He has been to the ER more in the past 2 years than Jack has ever been, he eats roach tablets, and has snuck sips of Motrin that I have left out on the counter. Yes, they know us at the ER and poison control. God has been good to us in preserving our sweet little man. May He continue to see that as a good thing.

And little Emma. Our resident pepper pot. Just when I thought Will was my most active, into EVERYTHING baby, God gave us Emma. She is a little ray of overactive sunshine, and knows what she wants. She started saying Jack's name last week at my parents' house. It sounds something like "Yak," and then I ask her to say Will's name. She looks at me like, "Make me." I'm still fascinated by little girls' being pre-programmed at little sassy pants. God is amazing. Life is amazing.
These 3 will be grown and gone before I turn around, and I know that for a fact because Jack starts kindergarten next month. Where have these 5 years gone? How can I not savor every minute of them?
Happy Friday. Hug those kids, y'all.

The Emperor has no Clothes

There are a few things that I'm pretty good at. I can juggle laundry, feeding Emma, and talking on the phone all over the noise of our morning dose of cartoons. Oh, yes. I can compete with the best of 'em in that arena. And I do enjoy a clean toilet. Yes, especially after Will squeezed half a tube of his toothpaste ONTO the rim. I think it took 4 times to get it all off before cleaning it. Will we ever be able to leave this child alone for any length of time?
And then there are the things that I'm good at that I am not proud of.

When Rich and I are in the midst of a "lively" disagreement, and I can let them fly, I am truly ashamed. My heart is heavy right now, and the sad, sappy song playing on "Toy Story 2" right now isn't helping. I don't think I can handle the third one; I don't want to do all that crying, and I KNOW I will.
Anyway, I stink at parenting too. Why do I yell over the dumbest things? Why am I not more PATIENT?

When Rich and I first moved to Spring, we found a different church home, we didn't know anyone, Rich was starting his new job, and I was pregnant with Jack. Yeah...
Remember the Star Trek transporter thingy that we got to chuckle at often? And how after the famous,"Beam me up,Scottie," we got to see the glittery water that was posing as Enterpriser DNA, and what have you? That was a little bit how my life felt; just without the glitter. I don't remember any glitter. I was attending a church Bible study that our associate pastor's wife led, and I rememeber vividly her saying that we wouldn't need to pray for patience if we already possessed it. A simple enough concept, but it was like I was hearing it for the first time.
Apparently I can be pretty transparent too. We're broken people, right? We can agree on that. And I have some pretty wonderful friends who let me see their vulnerability, and it is freeing to me. I've never been around more transparent friends before, and it's amazing. I walk into church every week and say to myself, "Everyone in here has it together BUT ME." No, no. We just like to lie and say that everything's fine. I do that to Rich too. He knows when something's not adding up, and he is always reminding me that my brokenness is acknowledging my complete lack of ability to do anything good apart from Jesus.
So,to those who have asked, I am okay. I'm broken, tired, vocal, praying, being sanctified, and sinning, until He returns. Just like you, my sweet friends. Just like you.
I leave you with these words that we sing in our church. It's an oldie called "Pensive, Doubting, Fearful." And it's written by John Newton. Now, there's a story for you.

"Pensive, doubting, fearful heart, hear what Christ, the Savior, says.
Every word shall joy impart. Change thy mourning into praise.
Yes, He speaks, and speaks to thee. May He help thee to believe.
Then thou presently will see, thou hast little cause to grieve."
And that's just the first verse...