Not a day of rest

I remember a time, not too long ago, when Sundays were a day of rest. Sundays were the day that we got up early, my Mom fixed our hair (bows, lots of bows) and put in our earrings (hoops for Sunday School), we went to Sunday School where we sang songs and learned about people in the Bible and usually did a craft. We'd sit in "big church" with my great-Grandma (she always had mint and butterscotch candies) and listen, sometimes coloring or drawing on the offering envelopes in the pew. I remember being small enought to stand on the pew beside my Mom during hymns or prayer, or when our preacher read from the Bible. I have wonderful memories of the people who taught me in Sunday School and especially of Mr. Bill, who was our Minister of Music, and Mike, who at that time was our Minister of Education, who led us in recreation and devotions every Monday and Tuesday after school when the church bus picked us up for Choir and handbells. But I digress. It is of Sundays I write today; the day when you could almost guarantee lunch of fried chicken, potato salad, green beans, biscuits, tomatoes, cantaloupe ... and a nice, long nap while Mom worked in her flowers or Dad watched the race ...

Now, all of the sudden it seems, I'm an adult. Sunday mornings are not restful around our house (certainly not over the last few weeks) as we get two children and two adults ready for church. More often than not, the morning slips away from us and we're rushed trying to make it to Sunday School. Dropping off the children on the preschool hall, getting them signed in, then heading upstairs for our adult class. Let me say of our Sunday School class: It's great. Amazing, even. I am happy to call each member friend, and happier still to know that (for the most part) our children will grow up together. We're a large class of married couples, most of us have children, most of the children fall into the birth to about 12 years old. We have a wide range of ages (from young newly weds to 40-ish). And lessons that are relevant to family, marriage and theology. In fact, Doug taught a lesson today on being in God's will that has had me thinking since leaving the room. I may add more on the lesson later, depends ... Anyway!

I am not the cook my Mom is - it's a dream, a likely unattainable dream - so we usually eat out on Sunday afternoons (Mom has long since given up on cooking the Sunday feast of my childhood). So by the time we've gotten up, showered, dressed ourselves, dressed our children, made it out the door, been to church, picked up DJ form Sunday School or Children's Church, picked El up from the nursery, reloaded everyone into the car, stood in line for lunch at Wade's, been served, eaten, loaded up the leftovers, driven home ... it's been a full, full day. And since tomorrow is Monday, I feel like the million things that need doing must be done today, and so, not a day of rest.

So, it's Sunday afternoon. And there's not much resting going on ...

Girls Night Out

Ah ... snuggly Friday morning spoiled by vicious attack of sleeping Mommy by early-rising 6 month old. That's right ... I was ready for a snuggling, sleeping in kind of morning, instead I woke to DJ laughing maniacally and saying, "Mommy, Elly Belly's not sleeping" ... this is only funny because: How could I possibly miss the 15 lbs. of unbridled 6-month old beating me about the head, gumming on my face and tearing out wads of hair, all while laughing hysterically? I can only describe the attack like this: If you've watched Animal Planet (and I have) you'll have seen the Beach Master Walruses attacking the young males who've foolishly tried to take over their territories. The Beach Masters (who have no arms or legs, remember) rear back, upper bodies lifted up & then, BAM! They slam their entire upper body into the Would-Be Usurper. This is what I woke to this morning, on a much smaller scale, of course. And so, after prying baby hands out of my hair, we opted for a good morning date at Strawberry Hill U.S.A. for breakfast. Yum. We had lots to do today, so we didn't make it down to the Peach Shed for fresh stuff, but we had freshly-sliced cantaloupe with our biscuits and we'll be back soon ... we always are ...

So, then it was time to run errands ... what a day, what a day ...

But the day ended almost as well as it started, if you can compare being attacked by your sweet, sweet baby to Girls Night Out! After helping my sister-in-law, Michele, do some housework (she's recovering from a c-section - see the pic of new addition, Caroline), I ran home to check on DJ & pick-up Elly Belly (both of whom spent the afternoon napping at my sister's house). DJ had big spend the night plans with his Boppy & Gam, so Elly Belly got to go on Girls Night Out. We went and picked up my good friend Julie, and headed to the mall where we bought absolutely nothing, questioned the sanity of the fashion world (honestly, have you seen some of the things that are supposed to be fashionable?) and just gabbed. Then we had dinner, where we gabbed some more & had an overly attentive waitress. So here's to you, Julie - you're well on your way to the #1 spot and you've made it to my blog (haha!!). And here's a question: If you're waiting on a table (or whatever) in restaurant (or whereever) and you see either an older person, expectant mother, or mother with small baby, do you offer them your seat? I ask because Julie & I talked about that as we stood, me holding Elly Belly in her carrier carseat, while we waited for about 15-20 minutes. Several young (30-40-ish) men were seated while also waiting for their table(s) while we and other older ladies (over 60) stood. We both agreed that our own husbands would've happily given up their seats in the same situation, but what do others think/do? None of the men offered seats to either me or Julie, or to any of the older ladies also waiting. I know, I know - rambling ...

After checking on DJ (he opted to stay "all night"), Elly Belly & I came home, got in our jammies and snuggled. Now she's sleeping soundly in her crib with her lovey lamb (thank you, Chris, Bridget, Charlie & Jackson!!), and I've checked e-mail, my favorite blogs, on-line banking ... and there's the doorbell. Dad (a.k.a. Boppy) just brought DJ home - he wanted to snuggle with me. Sweet, sweet boy ...

So, only 16 days until Mike is home ... until then, you might be interested in reading the Editing Program's blog (he posted on 6/27) & I'm signing off ... night, night ...

things to do, things to do ...

Wow ... It's sort of hard to believe that this week is almost over ... thank goodness it's almost Friday! Around here, this summer at least, Friday's are the designated sleep-in & cuddle morning. I'm at Rice Bowls two days a week and the kids are enjoying daycare while I'm there, and then two days a week Matthew & Mattie (niece & nephew) are here, so we have to get up early those days to open the door. Anyway, today just happens to be one of the days that the cousins are here, so it's already been a long & busy day. First, up & eating breakfast by 7:30 a.m., then clean kitchen while the kids play. They all love to entertain "Elly Belly", so I have a few minutes to load/unload the dishwasher & do a little general straightening (not something I love to do, so it really is a chore). Then outside for a couple of hours of rough & tumble play. Matthew is quite the dare devil - he's almost 7 & loves to do anything that could potentially break a limb; Mattie's not far behind him, but thankfully DJ is a little more hesitant to climb trees, fences, houses (no kidding), or to race go-karts down the driveway & off a ramp (seriously!!) ... Anyway, the three of them require more than passing watchfulness! Usually Elly Belly ( I love, love that they call her that!!) is sleeping through all of this, so every now & then I get a little something accomplished during this time. Yesterday I "accomplished" finding out where all of the poison ivy is in our yard. A better question might have been, "Where isn't there poison ivy in our yard?"

But back to today ... we took a break from outside play to run my sister to work (she doesn't drive ... another day, another post). It was only 11 a.m. and I was already tired!! So, I called an audible & we had Chic-Fil-A for lunch & the kids played in & on the air-conditioned play area ... then, in a stroke of genious, I decided we'd go to the park for a little while before nap time. So we did. And it was hot, hot, hot!! They played for about an hour, and when everyone was good & pink-cheeked, we loaded back up & headed home. Everyone's been down for about an hour, and I'm hoping for nice, looooong naps, since they aren't being picked up until late. Afternoon holds the hope of pool time, if the thunderstorms hold off.

Anyway, I'm avoiding doing the things that need doing while kids are sleeping ... cleaning the den, sweeping & mopping, maybe vacuuming, maybe even (gulp) cleaning the bathrooms. Have I mentioned that cleaning is sooo not my thing? I mean, whose thing is it, anyway? But I need to do it today, since I've committed my Friday morning to snuggling my kids, then to RB & my afternoon to helping my sister-in-law set up baby stuff for my new niece, and then a Girl's Night out with my friend, Julie. So, today or not at all. argh.

But let me just say, the initial point of this post was to say that: I can't wait to go to sleep tonight, just because I know that when I wake up, there's nowhere to go, no one to open the door for and no need to rush around getting ready ... just a good, snuggle morning, maybe watching a little PBS (can't miss Berenstein Bears or Curious George, right?). So ... signing off ...

Wednesdays

It's another Wednesday afternoon ... I have with me three children and one baby. My house is not quiet, nor is it clean. Baby Girl is trying desperately to chew on as many toys at one time as she possibly can; the Big Kids are ... well, it sounds like they might be tearing down the house. I'm not sure that they're not, but I'm hopeful. The sun is shining, we've all napped, we've all got fully tummies (especially good if you're almost 6 months old) ...

So here's my thought/question of the day: How special are these days when we have nothing to do? When it's o.k. for the clutter to be more prolific than the residents of the house, when a little (o.k., a lot) of noise doesn't give me a raging headache, when we have time to ride bikes, blow bubbles, play with sidewalk chalk, take two-hour naps, or pretend to search for and find the massive remains of dinosaurs who roamed the earth billions of years ago?

So it's just another Wednesday. I'm trying to absorb it, to let in truly sink in and to remember it ... because how often do these days come and go with no notice?

Managing

Here's what you need to know: On Sunday, June 1st, I with both children in tow, drove my husband to the airport, watched him go through security, reloaded both children, exited the airport, drove to the viewing tower and stood watching, camera in hand, for his American Airlines flight to depart. Three weeks and two days later, here's what you need to know: I'm still waiting for his plane to bring him home.

Here's the background: In mid-April, Mike got this e-mail from his ME telling him about this great opportunity for a Fellowship. So Mike came home, we talked it over and I said, "Go for it. It's just six weeks ... I can hold down the fort for six weeks." So, he applied and was accepted. So, for about 2.5 weeks, we prepared for his departure: we went over our budget, we washed clothes, we folded clothes, we packed clothes, we packed laundry detergent, we packed soap & other toiletries. We were excited: Mike, to have this great opportunity, both professionally & personally; Me, well, I was excited for Mike and pretty anxious to prove to myself (and, let's face it, my parents & in-laws, too) that I could do better than manage - that we, the children & I - would thrive in his absence.

What I did not prepare for was this: My husband is my best friend. He is the one I scream at when I'm angry at him &/or everyone else; he's the one I cry to when my feelings are hurt & raw or I've read or seen something that makes my heart sad; he's the one I laugh with when I hear a great joke, story, or my children do something to make my heart happy. At the end of the day, he is the one I want to share my heart with, and when he's 2,000 miles away and you can't just stop washing the dishes to tell him that great/sad/funny/heart-wrenching/important/life-altering/or not important at all thing, it stinks.

So, I'm managing. I'm managing to pay bills (which I hate!), to vacuum, to mop, to sweep, to wash/dry & fold clothes (but not put them away ...); to clean out cars & wash them when its 90 degrees outside & humid; to drive 7 hours for a family reunion that lasts 2 hours; to feed & bathe 2 little ones who miss Daddy almost as much as Mommy misses him; to monitor the budget like it's my job (because it is); to not be consumed with worry about things over which I have no control (i.e.: the fires out west that Mike can smell when he walks outside his apartment in Reno or the abused children who've been placed with my friend for a season) ... And then, I manage, to not sob because my husband will come home to me, to us. On July 12 he will board a plane and fly to Philly to see a baseball game with the guys before driving home with Will to us on the 14th. But for so many wives, mothers, sons and daughters the one they are just managing without won't come home to them. I am ashamed to say that I don't know if I should feel guilty that Mike will be returning to us, or to just be thankful that this season of us being apart is almost over ... only 20 days more until he pulls in the driveway ...