Rain, Rain...

When I was little I remember my mother looking out the kitchen window while watching the rain come down and chanting, "Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day."
See that picture above? That's our weather lately. Our windshield wipers are getting some real use and abuse these days. That little chant of my mother comes to my mind regularly these days. I remember when we lived in San Antonio, Texas, and Cheyenne, Wyoming. I longed for rainy days. Now, I'm finding myself longing for some sunshine. Even just a glimmer of sun makes me want to stop in a ray and soak it in.
The rain we've been having isn't the friendly, pattering kind either. It's the kind that makes creeks, lakes, rivers and ponds turn into monsters who threaten homes and lives. Even I, safe on my high ground home, step outside and get soaked in a few minutes of outdoor time. It's been a week and we are feeling the cold and wet seep into our bones and chill us even in the warmest of homes and clothes. I took a hot shower last night just to warm up and feel water wasn't always the enemy.
Rain, rain, go away. Please, shorten your stay.

Our St. Nicholas Day

The information surrounding St. Nicholas is sketchy but what he stands for is solid. Our charity and generosity is certainly a quality he embodies and I try to take advantage of the symbol he provides to teach my kids about giving and gratitude.
We're not rich, in fact the government defines us as in poverty. Yet I cannot help but feel completely blessed. We have everything we need and more. I look around myself and thank God for my warm bed, my home, my husband and children, my husband's job, my clothes and food. It's all so good. But there are those who cannot pay for food or clothes. Where I have been blessed, I try to show some of Christ's love to these who may have less. Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday, but St. Nicholas day is when we remember those who are not as blessed as ourselves.
On this day, there is no school for us. We get up, eat breakfast and then dress warmly. We went into the garage and packed up all the boxes of toys, clothes and other household goods we had collected to be donated. Two trips, many cold fingers and worn out little legs later we stop to have lunch. A trip to the grocery store and we have all the snacks we could ask for. This is a day for eating and being grateful, not necessarily stuffing our bellies at a feast. Later, after nap time we read stories about St. Nicholas and pray together for those who need jobs, food, money and thank God for the things He has provided for us. Dinner is something warm and comforting and we are all together as a family.
Some people give traditional gifts on St. Nicholas day and that's fine. We find it more to the point to give and teach our children about giving on this day rather than ply them with more things. Gratitude and generosity are the words of the day. I have many more ideas for celebrating in years to come: working in a soup kitchen, visiting shut ins, donating to food banks, dropping off cookies on the sly for our neighbors. The point is to remember how much we have and do what we can for those who may not have as much.
I hope St. Nicholas would approve, but more than that I hope God helps us to realize how blessed we are.

{phfr}

This post is part of Like Mother, Like Daughter.

{pretty}
We get fog here and while it is very dangerous to drive in I have always loved the way the world looked on a foggy morning. Much like snow, it has a muffling and softening effect to the air.

{happy}
Thanksgiving is coming! I am so excited about Thanksgiving and Christmas this year mostly because this is the first year we get to celebrate in our own home. So many years before I have wanted to decorate and enjoy the holidays to the fullest but felt hampered by the fact that I could not put holes in a rental's walls or change things like draperies. Not so this year. Now I can do all the things I've been dreaming of doing for so many holidays past.

{funny}
Bug: When I grow up and I have the money I'm going dye my hair blue!
(What's truly funny about this is I have always wanted to do that very thing!)

{real}
Toadie has become too much of a handful for his Sunday School teachers. I was approached last night before AWANA and asked about ways they could harness his exuberance and get him to sit in a chair. To be honest, I'm not sure they can. I knew this day would come, I guess I expected it to come a little later. Oh well, at least he's still cute.

Hello?!

Oh, sorry about that! I used to think it was rude of bloggers to leave their blog lying still for weeks at a time. Now I realize that priorities are priorities and my family and other more important commitments come before my little space here. But, to catch you up...
~
Cold season has struck which has me making homemade honey-lemon tea and allowing a bit more fussiness than usual. It's hard to have a good attitude about things when you can't sleep due to a stuffed up nose. That is, fussiness for my children. I don't let myself off the hook other than to rest a bit more than usual.
~
As I just wrote that, Bug brought Tex the guinea pig over with a glass of ice water in one hand. As the ice clinked against the sides of the glass, Tex purred which is a sound he makes when really happy. At first, Bug and I just stared at first then I took the glass while Bug held Tex and shook it. Tex purred happily as the ice clinked around. Even now, as he sits on the desk he purrs each time he hears the ice. Weird pig.
~
Do you know what a cobbler does? No, not the dessert the shoe maker/repairer. I told a friend I took my boots to a cobbler and he and two other people gave me an odd look. "There is still such a thing?" they wondered. At first I laughed then realized maybe this isn't just them. I take my shoes to the cobbler for re-soling, re-heeling, cleaning and polishing, stretching and so on. Am I the only one under fifty who does this?
~
Toadie hates being told to sit on his bed in timeout and I've been employing this discipline tactic to curb his whining. He's a champion whiner and this has been the only thing I've found to make it stop. When my mother was watching him one night he started whining and she asked him if he was indeed whining to which he wiped the look off his face, changed his tone and said, "No, I not." Ah, success.
~
I told you I was going to share my new wardrobe with you and I haven't forgotten. I plan on showing you when I acquire my last item: black wool skirt. Why are skirts so stinking expensive and short. Anyway, as soon as I have it I will show and tell. I promise.

Why I Hate Halloween

When I was a child, my parents gave every reason they could think of as to why we should not celebrate Halloween. As a child, I wanted to participate. I was a dramatic type who liked dressing up and acting out parts so these components of the holiday seemed very appealing. I whined as much as any deprived child about the injustice of my parents, but something changed as I got older. I began to notice it wasn't just about dressing up. People were fascinated with frightening themes and facing their fears. The grotesque and horrid were suddenly acceptable at this time of year. I found myself walking through stores with one hand shielding my own eyes from the decorations and costumes.
I was a full on adult and mother myself before I realized what my parents were trying to do. They were trying to protect me. I've already mentioned my propensity to having nightmares. Even a mild children's movie would set me up for a weeks worth of disrupted nights should it have a slightly intense moment. How much more so would have ghouls and goblins? Bug is a literal child who sees reality in black and white, so I don't worry too much about him. Yet, Toadie is definitely my sensitive child. Even last night I heard him whimpering to himself a few minutes before he came into my bedroom and crept into bed beside me. He whispered that bees were biting him and wanted snuggles. I was happy to oblige. Why would I subject this gentle soul to disturbing images purposefully?
I understand facing fears, but the likelihood of a demon-possessed, chain-saw wielding murderer or a brain-eating, rotting zombie being a sudden possibility for me to stand up against is unlikely. I take no pleasure in pretending my life is threatened and it disturbs me when other people do. So, you won't find me walking the streets with my children tonight.

{phfr}

This post is part of Like Mother, Like Daughter.

{pretty}
I was standing in my garden checking on things when I heard them. Canadian geese were flying high and fast, honking their encouragement to the leader of the v. I stood and listened, reveling in the beauty of the sound and the orderliness that is God's creation. Anyone else marvel at Canadian geese?

{happy}

I'm so glad these two get along so well. They are six and a half years apart in age, but they don't let that stop them from being pals. Bug is a huge help with her and Bundle knows if she can't have Momma right away she can always go to big brother.

{funny}
Toadie: (pointing to my tight-covered legs) What DAT?
Me: Tights. They keep my legs warm.
Toadie: (pulls at the tights) Iss won't come off!
Me: No, I like them on.
(A few minutes later, Toadie walks up with his blanket and lays it over my legs.)
Toadie: Here, Momma. Kep warm. Tights off now!

{real}

I'm a youth group leader at our church now. Add this responsibility to the AWANA I take Bug to and Toadie is not a happy camper. Two nights away from me is just too much for this fellow so when he sees me getting my bag and coat he scrambles to grab his socks and shoes and begs to go with me. It's heartbreaking for me. So, in the morning I see this: Toad's socks and shoes left by the front door.

Raising Hoppy Toad: The Great Escape

I was in the gym of our church in the interim time between Sunday school and the service. During that time, I get myself a cup of coffee and settle down to watch Bug burn some energy off with other children. It's a good deal for me because Toadie and Bundle are both in their classrooms being watched by their teachers from the start of Sunday school until the end of service. Thirty minutes of coffee-laden, child-free time each Sunday makes me very grateful for the patient souls who help out with the childrens' ministry. Though I confess, the coffee is terrible, but isn't church coffee always terrible?
The director of childrens' ministry came bustling into the room and begins marching towards me. This particular woman is the type who would make the officers of Jay's military days learn a thing or two about having a commanding presence. I snapped to attention. Once she reached me, she briskly stated, "We are having a problem with Toadie."
Aw, crumb.
"He escaped from his class room and zoomed down the hallway before anyone could stop him. He's now near the library entrance and is refusing to listen to the teachers. Could you help in this situation? Perhaps because you are his mother..."
Oh, yes. She trailed off. I could see the look in her eyes. It was no secret that Toadie was willful and I'm pretty sure everyone at church has seen me at one time or another carry him out of a room sideways while he screamed at the injustice of the world and his mother in particular. She didn't want a scene. Could I talk Toadie into rejoining class or at the very least deal with him?
After asking one of the fellow parents present to keep an eye on Bug, I hurried off to the library. There I saw a sight I couldn't help laughing at under my breath. Toadie had found a niche just next to the door of the library. He had plastered himself into this nook with his face to the wall and his arms tucked firmly against his chest. He was casting glances over his shoulders at the three young ladies who I recognized as the ones who had worked as his Sunday school teachers. They were very sweetly trying to coax him out and back to the class room. As I approached, Toadie caught sight of me and turned slightly towards me, yelling out in an overjoyed voice, "I found Momma! Here she is, there Momma! I found you!"
"Toad, what are you doing?" I tried hard to sound firm but gentle, yet I can't completely smother the smile that's on my face. He had been looking for me and as far as he was concerned these girls had prevented him from looking for me and so he found a safe corner and defended himself.
"Oh. Uh. I run out. Uh." His light blue eyes darted around. He had turned completely toward me now and taken a step out of his niche. He doesn't meet my eyes. He knows he did something wrong. "I play basketball?"
"Thank you, girls," I said to the hovering young ladies. "I'll take it from here." They drift back, but I notice they don't leave entirely. I don't think we're making a scene yet we are obviously attracting attention. I kneel down to my small boy and he puts his hands on my shoulders. "Momma, I love you."
"I love you too, baby. But why aren't you in your class?"
"I listen music. Come with you?"
Ah, now we're at the crux of it. Toadie loves music and I have sometimes taken him into the service during the singing which he thoroughly enjoys yet he lacks the self-control to keep from shouting and dancing. (A fact that our pastor has shown approval of if for no other reason than to smother the stodgy attitudes of some of the older set in our congregation.) He's been paying attention and he knows that the music will start soon. He gave the Sunday school workers the slip and figured he would just find me and join us for the worship. I gather him up in my arms and as I walk back to collect Bug, I whisper in his ear,"Toad, you're a caution."
He joined us for worship and thoroughly enjoys clapping and singing along. The people in the row in front of us only turn around twice to glare at me. I hold him up with his feet standing on the back of the bench in front of us so he can see the instruments being played. Once the older children are dismissed for childrens' church I take him back to his classroom. He is now a satisfied little boy who happily joins two other children rolling out log shapes in molding dough. As I leave to go back to service, I thank God he didn't escape the building and that he was noticed by the workers. The church is huge with many rooms he would have been happy to explore for hours had he discovered them.
Crisis averted. For now.