Rocks In My Dryer

Help Solve a Mystery, Please?

This morning, while I ate my breakfast, the younger boys went outside to warm up for the first day of soccer camp.  After a few minutes, they came inside, and Stephen waltzed through the kitchen and mentioned non-chalantly over his shoulder, "There's a rat in the trash can outside."

Insert screeching sound here.

"WHAT?  A...wha...a RAT?"  I gingerly opened the back door (the trash can was just outside it) and saw that yes, indeed there was a rodent in my otherwise empty trashcan, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to climb its way out.  Though, to Stephen's disappointment, it was a mouse, not a rat.  (Not as good a story to brag about at soccer camp, poor kid.)  Within seconds, my dog Ginger was out the door, cleverly knocking over the trash can and chasing that mouse right out of our yard.  Good dog. 

The whole thing happened so fast that it didn't register with me, until after the fact, what a mystery it is as to HOW this mouse got in the trashcan to begin with.  I realize there is war in Lebanon and soaring gas prices and all sorts of important issues in the world at this moment, but folks, I really MUST know how this mouse got in the trashcan.  Look at this picture, and you'll understand my head-scratching (a bad choice of words, perhaps, when discussing rodents):

Did the mouse somehow get up on the chair and leap into the trash can?  How would it even get on the chair in the first place?  Certainly it didn't scale the side of the trashcan, did it?  Because if mice are now scaling vertical surfaces, then my world is officially rocked.  But no, this can't be the case, because the mouse was unable to get OUT of the trash can, so clearly scaling vertical surfaces is not option.  There is nothing on the other side of the trash can. 

How, I ask you, HOW?  I need to know this.  I have never seen a mouse in our zip code, much less our yard--if this is going to become a regular occurence, I must begin to understand their behavior, especially if the mice in question are, as it appears, bionic.

WFMW Lore

I have lost so many brain cells from wallpaper glue that I'm scraping the bottom of the blogging barrel.  Not a creative thought in my head.  So, I'll answer a question posted by Jennifer at Snapshot recently.  She asked me if I would post the story behind Works-For-Me Wednesday.  She said,

You should post the history of WFMW. I've only been around a few months, but it would be interesting to know the "lore." Now that you have 100 + posters, you might as well have an official legend.

Alrighty...lore.  Must come up with lore.  Something brilliant, creative, profound.  Something about my deep love for seeing mothers share information and joining hearts and minds across the blogosphere, yadda yadda yadda.

OR, I could tell you the real story.

When I was packing for our Disney trip in March, I had a brainstorm on a clever way to pack the kids' clothes.  Hmmmm, I thought, I should blog about this.  Because I was in a bit of a blogging dry spell, I thought I'd turn it into a weekly "column", in which I shared a shortcut each week.  Friends, I am ALL about the shortcuts.  I have tons of them.  And yes, I realize this doesn't speak volumes about my character.

So, I wrote my little blurb about the packing tip, explained I'd be sharing a tip like that weekly, and even named the feature Works-For-Me Wednesday.  In the instant before I hit the "publish" button I had a brainstorm:  I wonder if anyone else would be interested in sharing tips like this?  Hmmm...maybe I could offer to link to them.  So as a complete afterthought, I included this paragraph:

Now, here's where I hope you'll consider playing along.  I would LOVE to see some of my fellow Moms Of The Blog World join in and do your own "Works-For-Me Wednesday".  If you let me know you're participating, I'll link to you.  Think how much we could all learn from each other if we share our own little ideas!.  IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE EARTH-SHATTERING.  Just simple, affordable and designed to make the tiniest difference in your day.

For the first several weeks I went in and cut and paste each link by hand.  My Wednesdays quickly became the Day of Being Stuck At the Computer, until Carol at She Lives e-mailed me to insist I try Mr. Linky.  She even walked me through it via phone.  Twice.  That was a real turning point.

And thus Works-For-Me Wednesday was born.  Told you it wasn't all that exciting.

Other bloggers frequently ask me whether I'd recommend starting their own weekly column.  I always tell them to go for it, with the warning that as many seem to "flop" as succeed.  I have no idea what makes one fly.  Some other good ones are GiBee's Tuesday Toss-Up, Jules' Everyday Things (Friday),  Faith's Treasure Tuesday, and the ever-present Thursday Thirteen.  And honestly?  I would discourage any blogger from basing her content entirely on those weekly memes.  Branch out!  Pick one or two each week and then do different ones the next week. 

That's my lore and I'm stickin' to it.

Come On In!

Boomama is hosting a house tour today!  To play along, head over to her blog and leave your link.  I'm looking forward to spending the day peeking in your windows.  Okay, that didn't come out quite right--you know what I mean. 

Here are some shots of the Dryer house.  First, our front door...

Just inside the front door, this is our entry way.  We're actually having the walls painted beige and the trim painted white in the next few weeks, so it won't look like this much longer (that's my dog Ginger, at her front-door post, guarding us all from her evil nemesis, the Mail Carrier):

Next, our back patio, looking toward our back door...

This is my computer desk (in my kitchen/dining room) where I do all my bloggin'...

My kitchen/dining room (that's the "Mom-I'm-Bored" list taped to the cabinets...remember that?):

My favorite room in the whole house--my kids' bathroom.  I had to include two shots to get the whole thing in.  Those star-shaped hooks are towel hooks with each child's name painted on it; of course, I blurred out their names:

This whole Bloggy Tour Of Homes business is a bit outside of my private Hubs' comfort zone, so I'm not posting a full picture of my bedroom.  Instead, here's just my little corner of it.  And I realize this picture makes it look like we have a satin comforter, which would be a bit, um, EWW, so let me assure you that it is tasteful and conservative taffeta-ish material.

Our upstairs hallway.  All our bedrooms are off this hallway.  I'm posting a picture of it for posterity's sake, because it is usually littered with soccer balls, Transformers and Legos:

The kitchen table:

My oh-so-neat-and-organized sewing table:

In the interest of full disclosure, and to dispell any remaining myths that I might have my act togetter torgethe together, here is a picture of the floor of my closet in all its organized glory:

I'm not posting a picture of our living area, because it's undergoing a major (well, major for ME) redecorating, and I want to show you before-and-after pictures when it's all done.  I had hoped to have pictures for you of my finished master bathroom, but that would require that it be, um, finished.  It's not.  Soon, very soon...

Head on over to BooMama's and play along!

*UPDATED* Feeding the Beast Within

I wrote earlier in the week about my fixation on hair bows for my daughter.  I mentioned that my new mirlish friend SuperMom has an equally serious bow obsession.  But (be still my heart) she knows how to make them.  She is seriously talented--her daughters' bow collection had me absolutely drooling.  I'm trying to convince her she should be selling these gorgeous creations at her blog!

Anyway, much to the dismay of my Hubs (who is just thrilled that I'm taking on yet another hobby, I'm sure), I spent this morning at SuperMom's house so she could teach me this sacred skill.  While our children played, swam, and "beat the crud out of" each other (my son's words, I'm so proud) at video games, we turned her kitchen table into something that looked like an explosion at Hancocks:

After fully exploiting her know-how and her ribbon supply, I was able to produce the following things (actually, SuperMom made the first one, but I did the others):

No, I didn't curl all that ribbon; SuperMom already had it done.  But she told me how to do it, and I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

Will I be able to reproduce this skill without my new friend standing over my shoulder, armed with a hot glue gun and an extra set of hands?  We shall see...

*UPDATED TO ADD*  Great big hat tip to Erica at Haphazard Happenstances for sending me this link on how to make an altogether different type of bow--these are so cute.  If anyone else wants to send me any bow/ribbon resources, I'll post them here.  The madness, I cannot stop it...

Big Bow Baby (link courtesy of Christy)

JuJuBean (link courtesy of Michelle)

Sweet Cheeks Bows (link courtesy of Peach)

Best Friend Bows (link courtesy of Wendy)

Works For Me: Map Collection

Remember, there are some new rules in town...please read through these guidelines before leaving your link!

No time for an overly brilliant tip today--I'm up to eyeballs in wallpaper glue.  It seems like I'm always printing out maps off the internet to the kids' friends' houses, or new stores, etc. etc.  I'm directionally-challenged, so from one trip to the next I will often forget exactly where these places are. And if Hubs has to pick up a child at a sleepover and relies on ME for directions?...well, Heaven help us.  So, I've started saving these printed out maps in a little folder, and I keep it in my mini-van, with each map labeled as to what it's for.  It's like my own little collection of Frequently Visited Places.  Very handy. 

If you have a Works-For-Me Wednesday tip, leave your link below.  Remember to add a 3-4 word summary after your name--as in, Shannon (keeping maps) or Jules (enchilada recipe), etc. 

Perhaps I've Been Watching Too Much TV

I was reading Corrie a book about animals last night, making each animal sound for her.  I pointed to the cow and said, "Moooooo."  I pointed to the pig and said, "Oink! Oink!"  Then I pointed to the duck, got all nasally, and said, "AFLAC!"

Yes, I really did.

Treasure Tuesday

I haven't participated in Faith's Treasure Tuesday for a while, so I thought I'd jump back in. Today's treasure is oh-so near and dear to my heart.

You see, I am a Southern girl, born and bred.  And as you may know, we proud Southern women wear our hair big, we wear it proud, and we always, always (say it with me, Southern sisters)...accessorize.  Even the youngest of us is not exempt from this fine tradition.  My baby daughter Corrie had a hair bow stuck in her hair when she only had a few strands on her head.  Now that she sports a beautiful head full of silky blonde hair, that poor child's head is a veritable pin-cushion for hair accessories.

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that I'm not a frivolous shopper.  But bows...oh, those precious bows...well, they are my weakness.  And it is with this in mind that I present to you my "treasure" for today.  Won't you please step inside The Inner Bow Sanctum:

I keep this big basket on top of my fridge (I fix Corrie's hair while she sits in her high chair eating breakfast).  We've got polka-dot bows, funky bows, formal bows, multi-colored bows, large bows, tiny bows...you name it.  AND, thanks to my new friend SuperMom, we'll soon have homemade bows.   She is the queen of bows, and she makes them for her two daughters.  I'm going to her house later this week so she can teach me the fine skill of be-decking my daughter's head with my own handiwork!  I'm so excited.

And no, if you're wondering, I will not force Corrie to continue wear bows when she's older, if she decides she doesn't like them.  Except on Sunday.  And Christmas.  And to sporting events.  And to meals.  And on days that end in -y....

Click here to play along with Treasure Tuesday.

Out of the Mouth of Joseph

My newly five-year-old Joseph came into the kitchen the other day, shoulders sagging.  He sighed sadly and leaned against the counter.  Then he wearily said, "Mom, being four was hard."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We went to Wal Mart this morning.  As we got out of the car, we all noticed a fluorescent green puddle on the ground next to our car.  Because mysterious fluids in a Wal Mart parking lot aren't all that surprising to me, I didn't think much of it.  But the boys were dying with curiosity.

"It's Kool-Aid!" one shouted.

"No, it's something leaking from the car!" shouted another.

"Melted ice cream?" suggested the first one.

And then suddenly something wonderful occurred to Joseph and with all the glee in his little heart he shouted, "HEY!  Maybe we ran over a turtle!  Maybe it's turtle juice!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The other day Joseph explained to me that he was only a few inches tall. 

"Really?" I asked.  He nodded.  He went on to add that he had been doing battle with an imaginary superhero, and the guy had "shrunked me with his shrunk vision."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Joseph approached a dear elderly gentleman (over 80) at church a couple of weeks ago, and told him bluntly, "You have to be really old to die.  But don't worry, you're not old enough yet."

Thank goodness this dear old friend has a good sense of humor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Excuse me, I have to go.  I just looked out the back window, and Joseph is peeking through the neighbors's fence into their backyard, barking at their dog. 

Oh, I love that boy.

Words, Words, Words

As of 11:02 am CST, the current standing is:

"FAK" -- 9 votes

"eff-ay-cue" -- 34 votes

other -- 10 votes

Stick that one in your Groucho Marx glasses and smoke it, Chilihead!  (And in case anyone is new to this little dialogue, please know that I love Chilihead dearly, and she knows it, and the nature of our friendship is to tease each other mercilessly...)

And moving on to other blogging vocabulary--your responses to this post were so clever, just as I knew they would be.  I have to say that my vote for the creation of a brand new vocabulary word would be as follows (courtesy of Valarie):

Mirl (v.)--acronymn for "Meet In Real Life"; description for the transition that occurs when an on-line acquaintance becomes a friend you have actually met face-to-face.  Example:  I was so glad to mirl Jules in Kansas City, or I'm mirling Carol in October, or (to go all adjective on you), GiBee seems very mirlish (as in, someone I'd LIKE to meet). 

As the mirlish Jeana pointed out it to me in an e-mail, if the meeting doesn't go well, we could always call it a mirl haggard.  Get it? 

To take it a step further, we could also have the word tirl, which stands for "Telephone In Real Life", which is a significant bloggy step but not as serious as mirling, as we all know.

Comments?

Meme, Baby

GiBee's little baby Hunter tagged my 20-month-old daughter Corrie on a fun little meme.  So without further ado, here are Corrie's answers (with just a teensy bit of help from her Momma):

3 Things That Scare Me

• Absolutely nothing
• Absolutely nothing
• Absolutely nothing

3 People That Make Me Laugh

• My big brother Adam
• My big brother Stephen
• My big brother Joseph

3 Things I Love

• Pulling my dog's hair.  She seems to really love that, too.
• Going swimming.
• Climbing up on the kitchen table and dumping out the sugar bowl.  Mommy really loves that too.

3 Things I Hate

• When my brothers get to go outside and I don't.
• Having my clothes changed.
• Sitting still.

3 Things I Don't Understand

• Why Mommy gets mad when I climb up on the kitchen table.
• Why they keep the dogfood on the floor if they don't want me to play with it.
• What Mommy sees in that computer.

3 Things On My Floor

• My tricycle, turned upside down
• My blocks
• The remote control which Mommy doesn't know I have (shhhh....)

3 Things I'm Doing Right Now

• Emptying the Tupperware cabinet
• Singing
• Making Mommy smile

3 Things I Want to Do Before I Die

• Outsmart Adam
• Outrun Stephen
• Outlaugh Joseph

3 Things I Can Do

• Point to my nose when Mommy says "Where's your nose?"
• Point to my nose when Mommy says "Where's your tummy?"
• Point to my nose when Mommy says "Where's your mouth?"

3 Ways to Describe My Personality

• Fun-loving
• Stubborn
• Affectionate

3 Things I Cannot Do

• Speak English (though I'm quite fluent in my own little language)
• Figure out that darn remote control.
• Leave my brothers' toys alone.

3 Things I Think You Should Listen To

• Joseph's laugh
• Mommy's singing
• The wonderful sound the remote control makes when I bang it on the coffee table.

3 Things I Think You Should Never Listen To

• The word "no"
• The word "night-night"
• The word "climb down"

3 Absolute Favorite Foods

• Disney Princess fruit snacks
• Green beans
• Pudding

3 Things I'd Like to Learn

• How to draw.
• How to play video games like my brothers.
• How to work that darn remote control.

3 Beverages I Drink Regularly

• Milk
• Apple juice
• Sprite, when Mommy is in a good mood!

3 Shows I Watch

• Backyardigans
• Dora the Explorer
• Baby Faith DVDs

3 Babies I Tag

• Michelle's Jane
• SuperMom's Baby
• Mary's 20-month-old...(Mary, I can't remember if you've told me her name!)
  
  

We Need a VERB For This!

Well, I had my blogging lunch this afternoon with...drumroll please...Supermom at What Makes a Housewife Desperate!  She was just as funny and warm in person as she is on her blog (and not at all desperate), and I'm so excited to have a new blogging friend here in my city.  Our kids had a ball together...her Baby and my Corrie were born the very same month and looked like a couple of pixies playing together.   Her son and my Stephen are two ring-tail-tootin' seven year olds, and they both left McDonald's with sweaty heads and hoarse voices (sure signs of a good time in Little Boy Land).

So here is my question for you...don't you think it's time we had an actual WORD to describe the phenomenon of a "blogging friend" transitioning into a "real-life friend"?  I've been thinking about it all afternoon and can't come up with anything I like.  "Life-linked"?  "Life-blogged?" 

Maybe we need to create a word altogether, say, "flapsnaggled".  I don't know...telling you that I flapsnaggled with SuperMom this afternoon is creeping me out a little. 

Since you're so good at clever responses, I submit it to you--let's name this thing:

_____________________ : (v) To transition from being an on-line acquaintance into a real-life friend, whether via phone or meeting in person. 

Fill in the blank!

A Little Perspective, Please

So, my blogging break ended up lasting longer than I intended.  Tuesday morning I awakened to discover that the earth's entire magnetic core had shifted my internet was down.  Not only that, but because we have one of those lovely cable/phone/internet packages, it was all down.  ALL of it--no phone, no TV, no computer.  Add to this that I get cell phone coverage in every nook and cranny of this great nation EXCEPT within the four wall of my house, and you have a rather disconnected few days. 

The good folks at Cox Communications have heard a few things from me these last two days, thankyouverymuch.  When they promised to come out the day of the outage, and then later rescheduled without my knowledge, I tried to explain the urgency of the situation.  Do they not for-the-love-of all-things-good-and-bloggy know that Works-For-Me Wednesday was fast approaching?  Really, the nerve.  I waited for the repair guy.  And I waited.  And I went to Chilihead's house to post my Works-For-Me Wednesday.  And I waited some more. 

So this afternoon rolls around, I'm crankier than ever, the repair guy is still missing...and I head out to the garage to grab some chicken to thaw tonight's dinner.  The chicken in the deep freeze.  The deep freeze that shares a power source with the cable box.

You see where this is going.

A circuit had tripped, and the phone/TV/internet had simply lost power.  So had the deep freeze.  Seeing as how it's 623 degrees in Oklahoma right now, the food inside had held up remarkably well.  I threw out a bag of chicken on top, but everything else inside was only about halfway thawed.  I spent the afternoon getting it all cooked ("DON'T RE-FREEZE IT!" my chef buddy Jules warned me), and doesn't it sound fun to spend a hot July afternoon in the kitchen? 

With my foot in my mouth and egg on my face, I called Cox Communication to tell them "never mind".  What a day.  Enough to make a girl crazy, right?

Except...

In the middle of the day's frustration, Stephen got some paint on his favorite shirt, and he ruined it.  My melodramatic boy approached me with much wailing and gnashing of teeth.  "THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE," he moaned.

"Really?"  I asked him.  "Do you have a comfy bed to sleep in tonight?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Do your parents love you?  Do you have enough food to eat?"

He knows where this is going.  "Yes," he mumbles.

"Do you have fun toys in your room?" I asked.

He nodded sheepishly. 

"Sounds like a pretty good day to me, buddy."

And so, after a hot and tiring and largely communication-less day, I'm sitting in my air-conditioned kitchen, my son happily munching on a Rice Krispy treat on one side of me, and my daughter pulling everything out of my Tupperware cabinet on the other.  I don't have to worry that my children will hit by missile fire tonight.  My family's home is standing.  I am healthy.  I can account for every member of my family.

Yes.  It was a very good day.

I Just Trust Him

This post was originally published on February 6, 2006.

My children love to ask me probing questions about God.

“Was God born?” they ask.

“No,” I explain. “God has always been there. He didn’t have a beginning.”

Or, “How did God make the world?”

“Well,” I explain, “He simply said He wanted it to be, and it was.”

“But how did He do that?” my questioner asks. And I’m reduced to the sentence that always concludes these precious times: “I don’t completely understand. But God tells us it is true in the Bible, and I just trust Him.”

And my little questioner, satisfied by this, rolls over and drifts easily off to sleep.

I just trust Him. How dependent I’ve become, I realize, on my bite-sized definitions of who He is. Words like "sovereign", or "glorious", or "omnipotent" appear in my prayers. Concepts like irresistible grace, sanctification, and election divide my theology into neat categories. I love to digest complicated issues of my faith and try to understand a little better the One I follow. My desire to share this with my children leads me to “boil it down” to their level of comprehension.  My four year old asks, “Why did God make sharks if they’re scary?” And my long, jumbled attempt at explaining a fallen world or all things working together for good finally lands me right back where it always does: “I just trust Him.”

This is the truth, I realize, of Mark 9:15: I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. When all is said and done, I stand before God just as my little children do, entirely dependent on the simplest of answers I share with them. They come to me with questions, and I tell them “Because He said so.” I go to Him with questions, and He answers, “I Am Who I Am.”

Motherhood has taught me not only how little I know, but also how little I need to know. I may wrestle with the doctrine of free will vs. predestination as much as they wrestle with how God made pine cones, but ultimately, we rest in the mystery of His truth, if we are to rest at all.

But the Rocks Aren't Only In My DRYER...

This post was originally published on February 10, 2006.

What is it with little boys and rocks?  I mean, they're just rocks.  Lumps of hardened earth.  Dirty, drab little hard things that can be weaponized at any moment (ah, I may have just answered my own question...).  As the mother of three boys, I find rocks everywhere.  Just today, here are the places I found rocks in my house, and I promise I didn't set any of these up...

In the floor of the minivan:

In the decorative chest on my coffee table:

In this Wal Mart sack hanging by the back door (and that's all it contains--rocks):

In my four-year-old son's coat pocket:

On a shelf in my seven-year-old son's room:

And in my jewelry box.  Okay, actually this is an acorn, but it's still a hard, earthen object, and I didn't put it there:

But you know what?  These rocks all over my house mean those rowdy, noisy, rock-bearing boys can't be far behind.  I'll take that any day.

Heroic Motherhood

This post was originally published on December 12, 2005.

I'm really not much of an art aficionado, but every now and then a picture really grabs my attention--particularly when it tells a story. I have always loved this painting by Mary Cassatt (1884-1926), called The Bath. Cassatt is well-known for her pictures of mothers and children, but something about this picture really speaks to me. The first time I saw it, I was deeply touched by the sight of a mother gently washing her child's feet--the ultimate picture of servanthood. Surely she must be the most tender of mothers, right? Maybe she patiently washes her child's feet every day, eager to give of herself to this cherubic little being.

Or maybe not. Let's look at this picture again...

This is probably a two-year-child, and clearly some event has required that this mother strip her daughter down to nothing and scrub her feet. Potty training? A stomach virus? (You know it's bad when it makes it all the way down to their socks--admit it, we've all been there). And the background doesn't look a nursery, but more like a parlor or living room. Why would you strip a child down to her skivvies in the living room unless circumstances required it? Circumstances such as, say, tracking mud across the carpet? Or maybe paint? And while the look on this mother's face could be translated as tender selflessness, it looks as though there could be a little jaw-clenching going on. Maybe even a little muttering ("I-brought-you-into-this-world-and-so-help-me....")?

But still she washes her daughter's feet. I'm sometimes tempted to think of the truly heroic mothers as the ones who always stay calm, patient and unselfish. But sometimes the most heroic moments of motherhood come when we're at our worst--when our child has pushed us to the very edge of our own limits of patience...or confidence...or sanity, and still we just deal with it. We suck it up, swallow our pride...or irritation...or comfort, and we deal with it. THAT is heroicism, plain and simple.

So if there is a naked two year old in your living room today, or a disrepectful 13 year old, or a heartbroken seven year old, my hat is off to you. You are dealing with it, and you are a hero.