Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

1. I did not have to move two clips and write two bad notes on my first day of solo teaching.
2. I did not have a child throw a tantrum when they had to sit out for misbehaving.
3. I did not have to have a conference with said child's family after school.
4. I did not buy my very own large pepperoni pizza after school.
5. I most certainly did not eat half of the aforementioned pizza all by myself.
6. I did not tell my sweet husband that I wanted and needed some quiet time to talk and be loved on.
7. I did not fall asleep before my husband made it to bed.
8. I certainly did not fall asleep before my child.
9. I did not fail to read to my baby and kiss him goodnight. A good mother would never do that.
10. And lastly I did not, would not say that I was ready to set the "mean girls" straight if they mess with me.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

1. I did not have to move two clips and write two bad notes on my first day of solo teaching.
2. I did not have a child throw a tantrum when they had to sit out for misbehaving.
3. I did not have to have a conference with said child's family after school.
4. I did not buy my very own large pepperoni pizza after school.
5. I most certainly did not eat half of the aforementioned pizza all by myself.
6. I did not tell my sweet husband that I wanted and needed some quiet time to talk and be loved on.
7. I did not fall asleep before my husband made it to bed.
8. I certainly did not fall asleep before my child.
9. I did not fail to read to my baby and kiss him goodnight. A good mother would never do that.
10. And lastly I did not, would not say that I was ready to set the "mean girls" straight if they mess with me.

Ramblings of a Blessed Mom

Life has a way of giving us unexpected moments of joy. Tonight as I sat working at my desk my boys flew through the house riding G's plasma car. They were both scrunched up on this tiny little car, whizzing around the house, bumping into walls, doorways, cabinets and furniture all the time giggling with unbridled joy. It is times like these that make me wish they were closer to the same age. That is one thing that having my children so far apart has caused me to miss. Yes, I missed the fighting, well at least some of it but I also missed out on seeing my children play together in the yard. I have been the playmate to two "only" children of sorts. Although this was of my own choosing I find myself wondering what if we had chosen to have them closer together. There are, however, many benefits to having them so far apart. It is definitely a benefit to have my oldest be able to pick up my youngest from school. I have never been required to hire a baby sitter, and even though they are separated by almost 12 years they are definitely buddies. I also have been able to devote my undivided love and attention to them individually. I have had the privilege of snuggling up with them on cold rainy days (and warm sunny days, and cool windy days, hot summer days, snowy days, stormy days) and take long afternoon naps (my favorite pastime in case you didn't figure it out). I have shared many late nights with my boys watching late night television. Some of my favorite memories are of watching "The Nanny, The Golden Girls, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and Rosanne" with my sweet boys up into the wee hours of the night. Those late night experiences are something that have been mine alone. I am the night owl and it is then that I have had them all to myself and they have had me all to themselves. My favorite memories of my mother are of the last couple of years that I lived at home. We would sit up late into the night watching the George Burns Show. That is what I missed the most when I got married. I still find myself missing those sweet times curled up on the sofa all alone with my Mom. It was during those times that I had her all to myself. I hope my boys remember the times we have shared with the same fondness that I hold for the moments I spent with my Mom.

I am sorry but this post has taken on a life of its own and I am now blabbing about things that I didn't intend to when I sat down to write tonight. I really intended to write about the funny things G said this night as we were practicing his sight words. So, here goes:

My Sweet G can come up with the most precious things to say at the most unexpected times. We were practicing reading his sight words tonight and as always he was being silly. He was beginning to get bored and I was getting creative with ways to keep him focused on the task at hand. We came to the word "old" and J, who was looking on, said, "this word is what Nana is." The next word was "take" and J said, "Gramps has to (blank) Nana to the doctor." "Cat" was the word that followed and I said, "This is what Gramps calls Nana." Sweet G then replied with a giggle, "I love Wayman, (his gramps and my dad) everybody loves Wayman." The boy is too funny. He uses a play on words often but this was too cute to forget.

When we came to the word "before" I said, "I loved Daddy before I loved you." G turned to J and growled, "We are fixing to get "angly". That is his newest favorite saying, "Look at me, I've got my 'angly' eyes on you." He says it as he touches his eyes and then points his fingers toward you. Oh, how I do love that little boy. I think I can rest assured that there will never be a boring moment in this house as long as my two boys are around.

Ramblings of a Blessed Mom

Life has a way of giving us unexpected moments of joy. Tonight as I sat working at my desk my boys flew through the house riding G's plasma car. They were both scrunched up on this tiny little car, whizzing around the house, bumping into walls, doorways, cabinets and furniture all the time giggling with unbridled joy. It is times like these that make me wish they were closer to the same age. That is one thing that having my children so far apart has caused me to miss. Yes, I missed the fighting, well at least some of it but I also missed out on seeing my children play together in the yard. I have been the playmate to two "only" children of sorts. Although this was of my own choosing I find myself wondering what if we had chosen to have them closer together. There are, however, many benefits to having them so far apart. It is definitely a benefit to have my oldest be able to pick up my youngest from school. I have never been required to hire a baby sitter, and even though they are separated by almost 12 years they are definitely buddies. I also have been able to devote my undivided love and attention to them individually. I have had the privilege of snuggling up with them on cold rainy days (and warm sunny days, and cool windy days, hot summer days, snowy days, stormy days) and take long afternoon naps (my favorite pastime in case you didn't figure it out). I have shared many late nights with my boys watching late night television. Some of my favorite memories are of watching "The Nanny, The Golden Girls, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and Rosanne" with my sweet boys up into the wee hours of the night. Those late night experiences are something that have been mine alone. I am the night owl and it is then that I have had them all to myself and they have had me all to themselves. My favorite memories of my mother are of the last couple of years that I lived at home. We would sit up late into the night watching the George Burns Show. That is what I missed the most when I got married. I still find myself missing those sweet times curled up on the sofa all alone with my Mom. It was during those times that I had her all to myself. I hope my boys remember the times we have shared with the same fondness that I hold for the moments I spent with my Mom.

I am sorry but this post has taken on a life of its own and I am now blabbing about things that I didn't intend to when I sat down to write tonight. I really intended to write about the funny things G said this night as we were practicing his sight words. So, here goes:

My Sweet G can come up with the most precious things to say at the most unexpected times. We were practicing reading his sight words tonight and as always he was being silly. He was beginning to get bored and I was getting creative with ways to keep him focused on the task at hand. We came to the word "old" and J, who was looking on, said, "this word is what Nana is." The next word was "take" and J said, "Gramps has to (blank) Nana to the doctor." "Cat" was the word that followed and I said, "This is what Gramps calls Nana." Sweet G then replied with a giggle, "I love Wayman, (his gramps and my dad) everybody loves Wayman." The boy is too funny. He uses a play on words often but this was too cute to forget.

When we came to the word "before" I said, "I loved Daddy before I loved you." G turned to J and growled, "We are fixing to get "angly". That is his newest favorite saying, "Look at me, I've got my 'angly' eyes on you." He says it as he touches his eyes and then points his fingers toward you. Oh, how I do love that little boy. I think I can rest assured that there will never be a boring moment in this house as long as my two boys are around.

Friendship

Recently I have found myself reflecting on why some friendships have such strong ties, ties that time and distance only make stronger. I was reunited with several of my high school classmates this past summer at our 25^th class reunion. As we began to interact with each other on Facebook prior to the reunion I could feel the bond we share pulling me closer to each of them. The common thread of growing up in our small hometown seems insignificant to most people who hear about our reunion and the renewed friendships that have come from it. Almost everyone that discovers we have had two more "reunions" in the six months following the first, are shocked.

I see a confused expression come across the faces of those I have told about the bond I share with my classmates. As I experienced this same reaction time after time I began to try and figure out what makes us different. What is it that sets us apart? It isn't the community that we come from because several of us married people from that same community. There are at least three different graduating classes represented by our spouses and they do not share the same kind of bond with the people from their graduating class. My husband's class has had two reunions over the past 28 years. We attended his 10^th reunion and he was not interested when the second one came around. My class on the other hand celebrated on the 5^th, 10^th, 20^th, and 25^th years following our graduation. We have yet to stop celebrating the 25^th anniversary even as we move closer to 26 years separating our common experiences.

It is as if time has stood still when we are together. Our bond has really become stronger than it was when we were hanging out every day in the halls of CHS. We have been apart far longer than we were ever together but that doesn't matter. Our friendships are strong. Our commitment to each other has begun to grow in a way that even we do not understand. We have many more differences than we have similarities but somehow that one common thread holding us together is stronger than all the others combined. So, as we begin to add more threads to the tapestry of our lives I find myself excited to discover the beautiful creation that is being fashioned.

Friendship

Recently I have found myself reflecting on why some friendships have such strong ties, ties that time and distance only make stronger. I was reunited with several of my high school classmates this past summer at our 25^th class reunion. As we began to interact with each other on Facebook prior to the reunion I could feel the bond we share pulling me closer to each of them. The common thread of growing up in our small hometown seems insignificant to most people who hear about our reunion and the renewed friendships that have come from it. Almost everyone that discovers we have had two more "reunions" in the six months following the first, are shocked.

I see a confused expression come across the faces of those I have told about the bond I share with my classmates. As I experienced this same reaction time after time I began to try and figure out what makes us different. What is it that sets us apart? It isn't the community that we come from because several of us married people from that same community. There are at least three different graduating classes represented by our spouses and they do not share the same kind of bond with the people from their graduating class. My husband's class has had two reunions over the past 28 years. We attended his 10^th reunion and he was not interested when the second one came around. My class on the other hand celebrated on the 5^th, 10^th, 20^th, and 25^th years following our graduation. We have yet to stop celebrating the 25^th anniversary even as we move closer to 26 years separating our common experiences.

It is as if time has stood still when we are together. Our bond has really become stronger than it was when we were hanging out every day in the halls of CHS. We have been apart far longer than we were ever together but that doesn't matter. Our friendships are strong. Our commitment to each other has begun to grow in a way that even we do not understand. We have many more differences than we have similarities but somehow that one common thread holding us together is stronger than all the others combined. So, as we begin to add more threads to the tapestry of our lives I find myself excited to discover the beautiful creation that is being fashioned.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I most certainly did not load my family into a van and a car and head directly out of our snow covered world into an even snowier world. We did not arrive in the mountains only to get within 3 miles of our cabin and have no way of getting to the top of the mountain. I most certainly did not sit in the parking lot of a convienience store for an hour waiting on a stranger to come to my rescue, eventually taking me and my family into a more dangerous situation. And if anyone tells you that they saw me sitting there puking into a ziplock baggie they have mistaken me for someone else.

I most certainly did not wake up in the middle of the night being puked on by my Sweet G and I didn't get into the jaquzi tub at 4:00 am to clean us both up. I also did not play in the snow like a child with my childhood friends and their families. I did not throw any snowballs or pull my child around in the snow on an inflatable pool toy. My child did not lose a tooth sometime during the snow playing without my noticing. I am much too good a mommy to let that happen.

Just for the record, if anyone tells you they saw me dancing to 80's tunes on a Wii they have confused me with someone else. I would NEVER do that! My friend didn't drive a Lincoln Towncar up the side of the mountain on a dare, he did not drive it back down the mountain after snow began to fall, and he most certainly did not plow into a huge rock while trying to avoid hitting another friend and shooting his truck off the side of the mountain. That same friend did not get into the hot tub with his wife and another friend when it was so cold that ice formed in his hair. He is way too smart for that.

My husband did not spend the entire day sleeping because he caught what I didn't have on the drive up. I did not use my disabled child to attempt to persuade my level headed friend to stay another day in what would most likely become an even more dangerous situation. Do not believe a word DSC tells you about that. We all know he stretches the truth. My husband and dear friend DSC did not ride in the back of a pickup truck down the mountain covered with icy roads. My husband did not go coatless during that trip and he would never, never expose his chest to the frigid weather to taunt my friend. I did not see an old man almost careen off the side of a cliff on a tractor while attempting to pull a woman out of the ditch. My nerves would not allow me to live through that.

I did not spend a wonderful weekend with my childhood friends and fellow classmates of the CHS class of 1984. I did not create an even deeper bond with them and I did not, would not cry like a baby on the way home because I miss them already. Well, actually I did. Pictures to come later.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I most certainly did not load my family into a van and a car and head directly out of our snow covered world into an even snowier world. We did not arrive in the mountains only to get within 3 miles of our cabin and have no way of getting to the top of the mountain. I most certainly did not sit in the parking lot of a convienience store for an hour waiting on a stranger to come to my rescue, eventually taking me and my family into a more dangerous situation. And if anyone tells you that they saw me sitting there puking into a ziplock baggie they have mistaken me for someone else.

I most certainly did not wake up in the middle of the night being puked on by my Sweet G and I didn't get into the jaquzi tub at 4:00 am to clean us both up. I also did not play in the snow like a child with my childhood friends and their families. I did not throw any snowballs or pull my child around in the snow on an inflatable pool toy. My child did not lose a tooth sometime during the snow playing without my noticing. I am much too good a mommy to let that happen.

Just for the record, if anyone tells you they saw me dancing to 80's tunes on a Wii they have confused me with someone else. I would NEVER do that! My friend didn't drive a Lincoln Towncar up the side of the mountain on a dare, he did not drive it back down the mountain after snow began to fall, and he most certainly did not plow into a huge rock while trying to avoid hitting another friend and shooting his truck off the side of the mountain. That same friend did not get into the hot tub with his wife and another friend when it was so cold that ice formed in his hair. He is way too smart for that.

My husband did not spend the entire day sleeping because he caught what I didn't have on the drive up. I did not use my disabled child to attempt to persuade my level headed friend to stay another day in what would most likely become an even more dangerous situation. Do not believe a word DSC tells you about that. We all know he stretches the truth. My husband and dear friend DSC did not ride in the back of a pickup truck down the mountain covered with icy roads. My husband did not go coatless during that trip and he would never, never expose his chest to the frigid weather to taunt my friend. I did not see an old man almost careen off the side of a cliff on a tractor while attempting to pull a woman out of the ditch. My nerves would not allow me to live through that.

I did not spend a wonderful weekend with my childhood friends and fellow classmates of the CHS class of 1984. I did not create an even deeper bond with them and I did not, would not cry like a baby on the way home because I miss them already. Well, actually I did. Pictures to come later.

Wet Paint

Sometimes I am so intent on one aspect of something that I fail to see the depth of it. After rereading my post from yesterday entitled "My Favorite Artists" I suddenly was hit hard with something I said in the post. I wrote, "I can see the personalities of each child shining through their creations". This is such a profound statement—even if I did write it. Just as I see the personality of my students shining through those pictures, those around me should be able to see the personality of my creator in me. God should shine through my life in such a way that people are drawn to me like I find myself being drawn to those pictures. There is hardly ever a day that I don't step outside my classroom and walk out of my way to look at those pictures. They intrigue me. They provide me with so much joy. There is something about them that makes me want to examine them closer.
Every time I look at them I find something that I hadn't noticed before. If I had my students make another portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr. they would not be the same as the first ones they created. Each one has its own unique qualities. They are one of a kind creations. Each one is a masterpiece, just as each one of us is God's masterpiece. One of my favorite verses has always been Ephesians 2:10. It says, "For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." God has created me anew, in fact he isn't finished with me yet. If you look close you will see a sign that says "CAUTION WET PAINT".

Wet Paint

Sometimes I am so intent on one aspect of something that I fail to see the depth of it. After rereading my post from yesterday entitled "My Favorite Artists" I suddenly was hit hard with something I said in the post. I wrote, "I can see the personalities of each child shining through their creations". This is such a profound statement—even if I did write it. Just as I see the personality of my students shining through those pictures, those around me should be able to see the personality of my creator in me. God should shine through my life in such a way that people are drawn to me like I find myself being drawn to those pictures. There is hardly ever a day that I don't step outside my classroom and walk out of my way to look at those pictures. They intrigue me. They provide me with so much joy. There is something about them that makes me want to examine them closer.
Every time I look at them I find something that I hadn't noticed before. If I had my students make another portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr. they would not be the same as the first ones they created. Each one has its own unique qualities. They are one of a kind creations. Each one is a masterpiece, just as each one of us is God's masterpiece. One of my favorite verses has always been Ephesians 2:10. It says, "For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." God has created me anew, in fact he isn't finished with me yet. If you look close you will see a sign that says "CAUTION WET PAINT".

My Favorite Artists

On Martin Luther King's birthday my Kindergartners made these portraits in his likeness. I giggle every time I look at them. I love each and every one of them for different reasons; just like I do the artists who created them. Its really funny, but I can see the personalities of each child shining through their creations.


Some decided that Martin Luther King needed long, luscious eyelashes. Others gave him thier idea of a stylish mustache, while still others gave him one or more exaggerated features. I guess I liked this project so much because the students were given only brief instructions of how to create their piece. They were told to give him an oval head--some got pretty close, and others--well, you can see that for yourself. They were shown how to shape his coat, tie, shirt, ears, eyes, and lips. They whined a little because this project took them out of their comfort zone. They wanted a tangible pattern to cut out (not that they follow the lines). There was no definite pattern, only instructions.

I admire my supervising teacher so much. It is mostly because I can tell that she genuinely loves teaching and adores her students. She gives them opportunities to express themselves as individuals and never scolds them for making their project different. She is kind, quiet, and firm all at the same time. Her students know what she expects and they strive to meet those expectations. As I am teaching more and more I am finding that they also want to please me. There have been a couple of times that I have thought, "Am I crazy for wanting to come here everyday?" I can honestly say, "Yes, I am crazy." I am crazy about those sweet, innocent souls that surround me everyday. I feel so blessed to be able to sit around the carpet with them looking into their smiling faces. Already I am starting to feel the pain of losing them. They will be mine (sort of) for only a short time, but I know that like the precious people I carry with me from my past they will follow me for the rest of my life.

My Favorite Artists

On Martin Luther King's birthday my Kindergartners made these portraits in his likeness. I giggle every time I look at them. I love each and every one of them for different reasons; just like I do the artists who created them. Its really funny, but I can see the personalities of each child shining through their creations.


Some decided that Martin Luther King needed long, luscious eyelashes. Others gave him thier idea of a stylish mustache, while still others gave him one or more exaggerated features. I guess I liked this project so much because the students were given only brief instructions of how to create their piece. They were told to give him an oval head--some got pretty close, and others--well, you can see that for yourself. They were shown how to shape his coat, tie, shirt, ears, eyes, and lips. They whined a little because this project took them out of their comfort zone. They wanted a tangible pattern to cut out (not that they follow the lines). There was no definite pattern, only instructions.

I admire my supervising teacher so much. It is mostly because I can tell that she genuinely loves teaching and adores her students. She gives them opportunities to express themselves as individuals and never scolds them for making their project different. She is kind, quiet, and firm all at the same time. Her students know what she expects and they strive to meet those expectations. As I am teaching more and more I am finding that they also want to please me. There have been a couple of times that I have thought, "Am I crazy for wanting to come here everyday?" I can honestly say, "Yes, I am crazy." I am crazy about those sweet, innocent souls that surround me everyday. I feel so blessed to be able to sit around the carpet with them looking into their smiling faces. Already I am starting to feel the pain of losing them. They will be mine (sort of) for only a short time, but I know that like the precious people I carry with me from my past they will follow me for the rest of my life.

Hair With Attitude

The entire time that Sweet G was in the hospital following his birth he had this faux hawk hairdo. The first night we went to see him the NICU was all in a flutter. This precious child was about to meet his forever
family, the family that God had chosen. All the nurses knew the entire story—even more than I knew, really. They had taken care of him for 13 days, all the time praying and hoping that everything would work out with his adoption. When I saw him that first night I said, "Look, J. Someone fixed his hair so cute because they knew we were coming." It was really an exciting
moment for everyone.


The next day when I arrived to see my Sweet G I once again found him sporting his cute little faux hawk. This went on for his entire stay in the hospital. (Blonde moments) I just thought some nurse liked brushing his hair so it had the little curl on the top. You know, some people just like that kind of thing. Anyway, I would look at him as I held him, rocked him and fed him and just smile to myself at how sweet those nurses were to my baby. They really do get attached and they are very protective (almost scary at times). (Another Story)


The day finally arrived when we were allowed to take our Sweet G home. He had to learn to eat, be totally weaned from oxygen, weigh around 5 lbs. and be able to pass a car seat test. I know I never heard of it before then either. The test consists of them placing the baby in a car seat carrier while monitoring their oxygen saturation. Sweet G was unable to pass this test. He failed it three times. The last time he failed the test the hospital staff was beginning to ask questions about our insurance and when it would kick in. We had already been told by our insurance company that they would not begin coverage until he was in our physical possession. When we relayed this information to the hospital staff they immediately remembered that they had a modified car seat that they could loan us. It was the cutest little seat. Well, really it was a bed. You strapped him in with a five point harness just like a regular car seat. The only difference was that he lay down instead of sitting up. So we were quickly taught infant CPR (another requirement), we contacted our lawyer and made plans to meet that night (he had to escort Sweet G to the car because he was his legal guardian until the adoption was final), and rushed home to make sure that everything was ready for our baby's homecoming. There last hospital policy was that all parents of preemies are required to stay overnight in the hospital to care for the baby all alone (this we were allowed to skip).


After making it home I had a big revelation; nobody was styling Sweet G's hair into the faux hawk. That is the way his hair naturally grows. It is so funny. He has a double crown, two hugimongous cowlicks, a duck tail O, and a widow's peak. If hair can do it he has it. Over the course of his lifetime I have tried many times to conquer his hair. I was bound and determined to tamtame it. As you can see, I failed, failed, and failed again. People have laughed at me for trying. I thought it would have to lay down if it got long enough—wrong. I thought that if I held my hand on one of the cowlicks until it dried would make it lay down—wrong again. I have tried mousse, gel, hairspray—nothing works. I have done everything short of having an exorcism  performed or laying hands on him. I think I have finally come to accept his hair for what it is. He will always need to wear short hair. Problem is he hates getting it cut and he hates us to comb it. In fact, last Sunday when we were getting ready for church he fussed at J, "I don't want my hair fixed." J said, "Well, it looks bad and it needs to be fixed." At this, Sweet G looks up at his dad and proudly proclaims,

"They love my hair at church!"  I guess he is right about that. You can't help but fall in  love with him or his hair.

Hair With Attitude

The entire time that Sweet G was in the hospital following his birth he had this faux hawk hairdo. The first night we went to see him the NICU was all in a flutter. This precious child was about to meet his forever
family, the family that God had chosen. All the nurses knew the entire story—even more than I knew, really. They had taken care of him for 13 days, all the time praying and hoping that everything would work out with his adoption. When I saw him that first night I said, "Look, J. Someone fixed his hair so cute because they knew we were coming." It was really an exciting
moment for everyone.


The next day when I arrived to see my Sweet G I once again found him sporting his cute little faux hawk. This went on for his entire stay in the hospital. (Blonde moments) I just thought some nurse liked brushing his hair so it had the little curl on the top. You know, some people just like that kind of thing. Anyway, I would look at him as I held him, rocked him and fed him and just smile to myself at how sweet those nurses were to my baby. They really do get attached and they are very protective (almost scary at times). (Another Story)


The day finally arrived when we were allowed to take our Sweet G home. He had to learn to eat, be totally weaned from oxygen, weigh around 5 lbs. and be able to pass a car seat test. I know I never heard of it before then either. The test consists of them placing the baby in a car seat carrier while monitoring their oxygen saturation. Sweet G was unable to pass this test. He failed it three times. The last time he failed the test the hospital staff was beginning to ask questions about our insurance and when it would kick in. We had already been told by our insurance company that they would not begin coverage until he was in our physical possession. When we relayed this information to the hospital staff they immediately remembered that they had a modified car seat that they could loan us. It was the cutest little seat. Well, really it was a bed. You strapped him in with a five point harness just like a regular car seat. The only difference was that he lay down instead of sitting up. So we were quickly taught infant CPR (another requirement), we contacted our lawyer and made plans to meet that night (he had to escort Sweet G to the car because he was his legal guardian until the adoption was final), and rushed home to make sure that everything was ready for our baby's homecoming. There last hospital policy was that all parents of preemies are required to stay overnight in the hospital to care for the baby all alone (this we were allowed to skip).


After making it home I had a big revelation; nobody was styling Sweet G's hair into the faux hawk. That is the way his hair naturally grows. It is so funny. He has a double crown, two hugimongous cowlicks, a duck tail O, and a widow's peak. If hair can do it he has it. Over the course of his lifetime I have tried many times to conquer his hair. I was bound and determined to tamtame it. As you can see, I failed, failed, and failed again. People have laughed at me for trying. I thought it would have to lay down if it got long enough—wrong. I thought that if I held my hand on one of the cowlicks until it dried would make it lay down—wrong again. I have tried mousse, gel, hairspray—nothing works. I have done everything short of having an exorcism  performed or laying hands on him. I think I have finally come to accept his hair for what it is. He will always need to wear short hair. Problem is he hates getting it cut and he hates us to comb it. In fact, last Sunday when we were getting ready for church he fussed at J, "I don't want my hair fixed." J said, "Well, it looks bad and it needs to be fixed." At this, Sweet G looks up at his dad and proudly proclaims,

"They love my hair at church!"  I guess he is right about that. You can't help but fall in  love with him or his hair.

God’s Plan

The first time I saw my sweet baby G he was 13 days old. I was working as a clown that night at a local restaurant when an (at the time) acquaintance (I will call her B for convenience) came in with a large party of people. I asked what they were doing and she said it was her husband's birthday and they were celebrating. Her explanation sounded reasonable to me; so I went about my business of playing with kids and tying balloons. (Yes, that is my one secret talent.)
To get the whole picture you must know that B worked with a local lawyer as a liaison arranging adoptions. Almost exactly one year before this day she had placed a child in our home. He was with us for one week. Georgia gives parents 10 days to change their mind. His birth mother changed her mind on the 9^th day after signing her rights away. That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to face but that is another story for another day.
There had been not one lead on a child in the entire year following the loss of our precious J. We had almost resigned ourselves to the fact that God had answered our prayer, and that His answer was no, He would not send us another child. So, that night when this group came into the restaurant in high spirits I had no idea that I had already been the mother to another child for 18 hours.
The group was seated and began their celebration. Soon, B called me, J and T (who just happened to be eating there that night) to come over to her table. She said she had something to show me. She handed me a handmade card. The card said something about our plans, how they get changed, and on the inside it said, "Introducing God's New Plan." There was a picture of a tiny baby inside. Well, sometimes I have blonde moments and this was one of them. I just did not comprehend what she was telling me. The card even had Jeremiah 29:11 written inside, which says,"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."~ NLT. This was the verse that I had claimed when our first adoption fell through. Like I said, it was a blonde moment.
I looked at the picture of the baby and bubbled, "Well, that is a cute baby, whose is it?" She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said the words that forever changed my life, "He's yours if you want him. His parents' rights were terminated last night at midnight." Meer words cannot adequately describe the feeling I had at that moment. It was her husband's birthday but the real reason all those people had come to that restaurant that night was because they all wanted to see B when she gave me God's Plan, His wonderful gift.
Our sweet G was a preemie. His mother was not from the same city that we are and was not supposed to deliver at our local hospital. Because she was preterm and our local hospital was the closest hospital with a NICU she was sent here.
She didn't have a plan for her baby, but God did. She could not provide a home for him, but God could. At that moment this woman did probably the noblest thing she will ever do in her life; she gave her son to someone who could love him and take care of him the way he deserves. She didn't want DFACS to handle the adoption. So, she told the nurses that she wanted to contact a lawyer and arrange an adoption. The nurses brought her a list of local lawyers that arrange adoptions and she randomly picked the lawyer that had handled our adoption the year before.
B had waited the 10 days the state gives parents all alone. She worried, prayed and waited; carrying the burden all alone so that we would not be hurt again if things didn't work out. That is why everyone at the restaurant that night was so excited. Not many people get to witness such an awesome
event and very few people are given such a precious gift.
So, after getting off from work that night, still dressed as a clown, I went to the hospital to see my new baby boy. I didn't hold him that night. I always said it was because I thought I might be coming down with something. The truth is, I think that I didn't want Scribbles to hold my baby before I did.

God’s Plan

The first time I saw my sweet baby G he was 13 days old. I was working as a clown that night at a local restaurant when an (at the time) acquaintance (I will call her B for convenience) came in with a large party of people. I asked what they were doing and she said it was her husband's birthday and they were celebrating. Her explanation sounded reasonable to me; so I went about my business of playing with kids and tying balloons. (Yes, that is my one secret talent.)
To get the whole picture you must know that B worked with a local lawyer as a liaison arranging adoptions. Almost exactly one year before this day she had placed a child in our home. He was with us for one week. Georgia gives parents 10 days to change their mind. His birth mother changed her mind on the 9^th day after signing her rights away. That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to face but that is another story for another day.
There had been not one lead on a child in the entire year following the loss of our precious J. We had almost resigned ourselves to the fact that God had answered our prayer, and that His answer was no, He would not send us another child. So, that night when this group came into the restaurant in high spirits I had no idea that I had already been the mother to another child for 18 hours.
The group was seated and began their celebration. Soon, B called me, J and T (who just happened to be eating there that night) to come over to her table. She said she had something to show me. She handed me a handmade card. The card said something about our plans, how they get changed, and on the inside it said, "Introducing God's New Plan." There was a picture of a tiny baby inside. Well, sometimes I have blonde moments and this was one of them. I just did not comprehend what she was telling me. The card even had Jeremiah 29:11 written inside, which says,"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."~ NLT. This was the verse that I had claimed when our first adoption fell through. Like I said, it was a blonde moment.
I looked at the picture of the baby and bubbled, "Well, that is a cute baby, whose is it?" She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said the words that forever changed my life, "He's yours if you want him. His parents' rights were terminated last night at midnight." Meer words cannot adequately describe the feeling I had at that moment. It was her husband's birthday but the real reason all those people had come to that restaurant that night was because they all wanted to see B when she gave me God's Plan, His wonderful gift.
Our sweet G was a preemie. His mother was not from the same city that we are and was not supposed to deliver at our local hospital. Because she was preterm and our local hospital was the closest hospital with a NICU she was sent here.
She didn't have a plan for her baby, but God did. She could not provide a home for him, but God could. At that moment this woman did probably the noblest thing she will ever do in her life; she gave her son to someone who could love him and take care of him the way he deserves. She didn't want DFACS to handle the adoption. So, she told the nurses that she wanted to contact a lawyer and arrange an adoption. The nurses brought her a list of local lawyers that arrange adoptions and she randomly picked the lawyer that had handled our adoption the year before.
B had waited the 10 days the state gives parents all alone. She worried, prayed and waited; carrying the burden all alone so that we would not be hurt again if things didn't work out. That is why everyone at the restaurant that night was so excited. Not many people get to witness such an awesome
event and very few people are given such a precious gift.
So, after getting off from work that night, still dressed as a clown, I went to the hospital to see my new baby boy. I didn't hold him that night. I always said it was because I thought I might be coming down with something. The truth is, I think that I didn't want Scribbles to hold my baby before I did.

Baby Got Back

Friday afternoon I was packing up my books to go home when the school secretary came over the intercom and informed me that my husband would be picking G up from school. This somewhat puzzled me because Friday is the day that I always pick G up since I have to transport the wheelchair in case we need it over the weekend. On this particular Friday it was drizzling rain. It had been raining off and on for a couple of days. In fact, I had driven Joey's truck to school that day because when I was backing the van out of the garage I noticed the wheelchair in the back and decided to have Joey use the van so the wheelchair wouldn't get wet (it was still in there from G's therapy appointment on Wednesday since he missed school on Thursday) on the way to school.

 

My phone had gone dead sometime during the day and my car charger was in the van which was being driven by Joey. This left me with no way to contact Joey to find out what was going on. I just assumed that my sweet
husband had not had time to switch vehicles with me during the day and was meeting me at home to pass off G. It was still slightly raining and with me in the truck I would be required to stand in the rain to attempt to tie down the wheelchair in the bed of the truck. I have only done it once a couple of years ago and on that occasion I was halfway to my school after letting G out at his school when I looked up in the rear view mirror to discover the 20 foot, bright orange tie down strap flapping in the wind behind me as I travel down hwy. 27 at 60 MPH. So, with this fiasco in my mind I thought that Joey was just being Joey and was protecting me from any uncomfortable experience.

 

I arrive home just as the garage door is opening. Joey comes hobbling out of the garage headed toward the mailbox (he has an obsession with getting the mail). Of course he stops and helps me carry my heavy load into the house. When we get inside he begins to relay the story of why he picked up G and why he is not returning to work. While doing a framing inspection on a house he was looking up at one of the rafters which had been cut. He had already stepped across a hole where a piece of plywood had been taken up from the floor once. In the midst of looking up he misjudged the distance from the hole and took one step too many backwards. His left leg drops through the floor joist. He lands with one leg through the floor, one leg twisted up underneath him. He was only prevented from falling completely through the floor because his bootie landed on a floor joist.

 

I know I should not laugh. It really is not funny. He could have been seriously hurt. But (LOL) he keeps doing things that strike me as funny. I will be doing something and all of a sudden he will make this strange little noise. Tonight when he was getting into bed he stopped and just leaned on the bed. After a minute or so I asked why he wasn't getting in bed and he laughed and moaned, "I just have to prepare myself to get in. I am okay once I get there but the process is just painful." You know that is usually the case. The end is not nearly as bad as the process it takes to get there.

 

There are a couple of benefits to his fall.

1. He has slowed down significantly.
   
2. He will be extra careful in the near future.
   
3. And last and best of all, because of the fall. . .and the swelling. . .
   

 

BABY GOT BACK!!!

Baby Got Back

Friday afternoon I was packing up my books to go home when the school secretary came over the intercom and informed me that my husband would be picking G up from school. This somewhat puzzled me because Friday is the day that I always pick G up since I have to transport the wheelchair in case we need it over the weekend. On this particular Friday it was drizzling rain. It had been raining off and on for a couple of days. In fact, I had driven Joey's truck to school that day because when I was backing the van out of the garage I noticed the wheelchair in the back and decided to have Joey use the van so the wheelchair wouldn't get wet (it was still in there from G's therapy appointment on Wednesday since he missed school on Thursday) on the way to school.

 

My phone had gone dead sometime during the day and my car charger was in the van which was being driven by Joey. This left me with no way to contact Joey to find out what was going on. I just assumed that my sweet
husband had not had time to switch vehicles with me during the day and was meeting me at home to pass off G. It was still slightly raining and with me in the truck I would be required to stand in the rain to attempt to tie down the wheelchair in the bed of the truck. I have only done it once a couple of years ago and on that occasion I was halfway to my school after letting G out at his school when I looked up in the rear view mirror to discover the 20 foot, bright orange tie down strap flapping in the wind behind me as I travel down hwy. 27 at 60 MPH. So, with this fiasco in my mind I thought that Joey was just being Joey and was protecting me from any uncomfortable experience.

 

I arrive home just as the garage door is opening. Joey comes hobbling out of the garage headed toward the mailbox (he has an obsession with getting the mail). Of course he stops and helps me carry my heavy load into the house. When we get inside he begins to relay the story of why he picked up G and why he is not returning to work. While doing a framing inspection on a house he was looking up at one of the rafters which had been cut. He had already stepped across a hole where a piece of plywood had been taken up from the floor once. In the midst of looking up he misjudged the distance from the hole and took one step too many backwards. His left leg drops through the floor joist. He lands with one leg through the floor, one leg twisted up underneath him. He was only prevented from falling completely through the floor because his bootie landed on a floor joist.

 

I know I should not laugh. It really is not funny. He could have been seriously hurt. But (LOL) he keeps doing things that strike me as funny. I will be doing something and all of a sudden he will make this strange little noise. Tonight when he was getting into bed he stopped and just leaned on the bed. After a minute or so I asked why he wasn't getting in bed and he laughed and moaned, "I just have to prepare myself to get in. I am okay once I get there but the process is just painful." You know that is usually the case. The end is not nearly as bad as the process it takes to get there.

 

There are a couple of benefits to his fall.

1. He has slowed down significantly.
   
2. He will be extra careful in the near future.
   
3. And last and best of all, because of the fall. . .and the swelling. . .
   

 

BABY GOT BACK!!!

Tooth Fairy

I have never had the stomach needed to pull one of my boy's teeth. That is one thing I have relinquished to the Daddy. I can wiggle them and tell when they are ready, I can hold little hands in order to give them courage, I can cuddle, I can even handle the bleeding
that comes after the tooth is gone; but I have never had the nerve to pull one until tonight.

We went to S'ville to see my parents tonight and called in an order to Armstrong's on the way there. We had just pulled into the parking lot to pick up our food when sweet G announced, "Will somebody pull my toof, it needs to come out." Well, that was a shocker
because we had no idea he had a tooth ready to come out. He does have one on top that we have been watching since before Christmas
but it just isn't ready to come out. He had told Joey earlier that he needed him to pull his tooth but Joey checked the one on top and decided that it was just not loose enough to pull. G kept pointing to his bottom teeth but "the Daddy
aka Not the Mama" did not even consider the possibility that a different tooth could be loose.

When I turned to look at G he had blood all over his lower lip and chin and I told "the Daddy
aka Not the Mama" ,"G does indeed have a tooth that needs to be pulled." Daddy promptly tells me, "I have already checked that tooth and it is not ready." However, after getting out of the van and looking at the tooth G was talking about "the Daddy aka not the
Mama" decided that it really did need to be pulled. Upon giving a couple of quick little tugs on the tooth his A D D kicks in and he stammers, "Well, I can't get it to come out. Maybe you can get it out," as he closes the door and heads into the restaurant.

Remember, I do not like loose teeth. I did not like my own loose teeth. I do not like my son's loose teeth. I do not like loose teeth! But, my poor baby is sitting in his car seat with blood trickling down his chin with his finger in his mouth complaining, "My toof needs to be pulled!" So, like any good Mommy would, I dutifully climb into the back seat, get a tissue, grab the tooth and commence pulling. I pulled and tugged a couple of times but the tissue just kept slipping off. I finally had enough and after a brief inspection of the situation grabbed the tooth, pulled it forward, hooked my tissue covered fingernail underneath the back of the sucker and yanked it right out.

I actually squealed in delight. I tend to do that at the silliest things. It doesn't take much to excite me. So Sweet G and I giggled and laughed and high fived each other sitting in the backseat of the van in the drive-thru of Armstrong's Bar-b-que.

Joey returned to the van just after I had gotten the bleeding to stop. He was just in time to hear G as he declared, "Mama, you did it, You pulled my toof. If you pull one more I will give you five dollars. How bout a high five?" Oh, the joys of Motherhood. Even in things we don't want or think we can do. S

Tooth Fairy

I have never had the stomach needed to pull one of my boy's teeth. That is one thing I have relinquished to the Daddy. I can wiggle them and tell when they are ready, I can hold little hands in order to give them courage, I can cuddle, I can even handle the bleeding
that comes after the tooth is gone; but I have never had the nerve to pull one until tonight.

We went to S'ville to see my parents tonight and called in an order to Armstrong's on the way there. We had just pulled into the parking lot to pick up our food when sweet G announced, "Will somebody pull my toof, it needs to come out." Well, that was a shocker
because we had no idea he had a tooth ready to come out. He does have one on top that we have been watching since before Christmas
but it just isn't ready to come out. He had told Joey earlier that he needed him to pull his tooth but Joey checked the one on top and decided that it was just not loose enough to pull. G kept pointing to his bottom teeth but "the Daddy
aka Not the Mama" did not even consider the possibility that a different tooth could be loose.

When I turned to look at G he had blood all over his lower lip and chin and I told "the Daddy
aka Not the Mama" ,"G does indeed have a tooth that needs to be pulled." Daddy promptly tells me, "I have already checked that tooth and it is not ready." However, after getting out of the van and looking at the tooth G was talking about "the Daddy aka not the
Mama" decided that it really did need to be pulled. Upon giving a couple of quick little tugs on the tooth his A D D kicks in and he stammers, "Well, I can't get it to come out. Maybe you can get it out," as he closes the door and heads into the restaurant.

Remember, I do not like loose teeth. I did not like my own loose teeth. I do not like my son's loose teeth. I do not like loose teeth! But, my poor baby is sitting in his car seat with blood trickling down his chin with his finger in his mouth complaining, "My toof needs to be pulled!" So, like any good Mommy would, I dutifully climb into the back seat, get a tissue, grab the tooth and commence pulling. I pulled and tugged a couple of times but the tissue just kept slipping off. I finally had enough and after a brief inspection of the situation grabbed the tooth, pulled it forward, hooked my tissue covered fingernail underneath the back of the sucker and yanked it right out.

I actually squealed in delight. I tend to do that at the silliest things. It doesn't take much to excite me. So Sweet G and I giggled and laughed and high fived each other sitting in the backseat of the van in the drive-thru of Armstrong's Bar-b-que.

Joey returned to the van just after I had gotten the bleeding to stop. He was just in time to hear G as he declared, "Mama, you did it, You pulled my toof. If you pull one more I will give you five dollars. How bout a high five?" Oh, the joys of Motherhood. Even in things we don't want or think we can do. S

Experimentation

I am trying something new with my blog. Those of you who read my posts on Facebook might not be able to tell the difference in it but if you follow my Blog on blogger it should look way different. I'm not at all sure if this will Translate when I upload it. However, I am really excited about the possibilities this will give me in the area of Creativity. So here goes nothing.

Experimentation

I am trying something new with my blog. Those of you who read my posts on Facebook might not be able to tell the difference in it but if you follow my Blog on blogger it should look way different. I'm not at all sure if this will Translate when I upload it. However, I am really excited about the possibilities this will give me in the area of Creativity. So here goes nothing.

Baby Bear Part II

Okay, I promised to make you laugh today so I will do my best. After arriving home from school yesterday Baby Bear announces, "They were mean to me at school. Mama, I mean I have been nice to them all year I tell you and that Ms. teacher # ? was just mean to me." By this time his rarely seen temper is starting to come to the surface. You have to see it to understand but to give you an idea it is eerily similar to Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde.

"Calm down, Little Bear. I can't understand what happened when you are so emotional."

By this time Big Brother Bear has heard the ruckus and has marched into the bedroom to make sure he hears Baby Bear's complaints. Remember, Daddy Bear and Brother Bear have kept Mama Bear in the dark, just as good protective bears do for their delicate and emotional Mama Bears. So everyone is a couple of steps ahead of me at this point.

Brother Bear begins to weave the story together so that I can begin to understand the emotion behind Baby Bear's outburst. I do manage to calm Baby Bear down before he states proudly, "I saw Daddy Bear in the hall at school today and he took care of that problem." He was actually beaming with pride at the accomplishments of his father. He relays the information in a tone that says, "My Daddy is the boss, he got them women told."

"Wait a minute, what did Daddy Bear do?" , I ask not wanting Baby Bear to get the wrong impression of Daddy Bear's visit.

"He came to my school today and he talked to my teachers." "He took care of it."

It took a phone call to Daddy Bear to completely understand the entire story that I told you last night but I finally started to see what was going on. I began to tell Little Bear about an incident that I had encountered that very same day at my school. A child had broken a rule and done something that was very dangerous. "They could have gotten hurt very badly," I say to Little Bear. "What do you think I should have done? Do you think this child should be able to break the rules whenever they want to?"

Baby Bear's face shows the shock he feels at the thought of another child breaking Mama Bear's rule. "He should have to sit in time out, Mama Bear! He should listen to what you say."

"Yes, Baby Bear. That child should listen to Mama Bear, but do you know why he should have listened to Mama Bear?"

By now the look of shock is beginning to change into a more reflective stare as he begins to think about what Mama Bear has said. "No, Mama. Why should he listen to you?"

"Because Mama Bear is his teacher. He broke one of the school rules and didn't listen to Mama Bear when she tried to talk to him."

"Yeah," Baby Bear groans as he begins to understand where Mama Bear's line of questioning has led him. He sees now that it was a trap but what will Baby Bear do to avoid complete entrapment?

"Didn't you also break a rule when you didn't listen to your teachers?"

"Yes." . . . long pause and then he puts his little paw to his forhead as the wheels in his little brain begin to spin faster and faster. "Mama, I think there might be another way to take care of this problem."

"But, Baby Bear you just said that when you break the rules you should be punished. And, you broke a rule just like the little boy in my story."

"Yeah, but, but, I don't like to sit in time out. They are mean when they put me in time out." (I don't think he ever has been put into time out at school.)

"Time out is not given as a punishment, Little Bear. I think that time out is given so that Little Bears can take time to calm down and reflect on their choices so they can decide whether they have been making good choices or bad choices. It is a time for reflection."

"Oh, well that is good."

"So you don't like sitting in time out but you wouldn't mind being given a time of reflect on the choices you are making?"

"Yes, Mama. That is better than time out."

"Okay, then maybe we can talk to your teachers and instead of calling it time out they might tell you that you need to have a time of reflection?"

"Yes, I want to have time to reflect."

I tell you the boy is hilarious!! Never one dull moment at our house.