As an INTJ female (for those into Myers-Briggs and the like), I am a hard person to know, and an even harder person to love. I wonder if someday my children will want to know what really went on in my brain. I shall leave them this gift. Well, maybe not so much a "gift" as an extremely uncomfortable last will and testament.
*sigh*....you can never go wrong with navy and white. Especially when it's in the form of eyelet, chiffon ruffles, and stripes. I beseech you to take a closer look at the shoes. Navy with white polka dots, peep-toe-with-a-bow espadrilles. I can't stand it.
Have I mentioned that Zachary is very easily irritated? My poor youngest son has such high expectations for his life and how it should be played out, particularly when it comes to events that have been hyped up beforehand, birthday parties, family parties, social outings. Invariably something won't live up to his expectation, and he'll have to express his dissatisfaction, usually by walking away or hiding under a table until he composes his mind and figures out a way to get through the rest of the day. He also complains that people give him headaches a lot.
Me being me, I love to snap pictures when he's in these moods. I've chosen just a few of my favorites to share:
One of Zach's earlier irritations, at a family holiday party.
Unhappy with the way a day at the park with friends turned out.
Another family holiday party. Cole was directing a play, Zach was irritated.
Zach's 4th birthday party. Birthday parties, his or anyone else's, are so hard for him.
Trick or treating at the zoo. His buddy Luke ran up to him and "scared" him at the beginning of the event, and Zach had a hard time recovering.
Right before Ava's school concert. Zach was irritated at something, but I told him he HAD to get in the picture.
Eric and Ava were alone in the car yesterday, and she took the opportunity to pick his brain about something. She wanted to know all the ins and outs of driving a car. One of her questions was, "Who is going to teach me how to drive when I'm old enough?"
Eric said, "Well, who would you like to teach you to drive? Me or Mommy, or maybe Uncle Andrew?"
She replied, "Well, I know it won't be Gramma or Papa, because they'll be dead by then...."
Eric, horrified, tried to convince her that that probably wasn't going to be true. Don't know if she bought it.
The other day (Saturday) in the car, Zachary was in a rare whining mood. I got fed up with it after a few minutes and hollered at him, "If you don't stop the whining right this minute, you will not be watching television for an entire week!!!" He whined about something a few minutes later, and I said, "Ok, you've sealed your fate. No watching tv for an entire week for you."
My rear view mirror was trained on him already, as I use that to make eye contact with my kids when I discipline them in the car. So as I said that, I looked in the mirror at him. His response was classic.
He simply shrugged, looked out the window and said in a calm and nonchalant tone, just as much to himself as to me, "Well, I know you'll forget about THAT by next Tuesday...."
The Lower Merion School District is hopefully going to have to pay out the nose for the laptop webcam scandal. Unless people listen to the dumb woman who said, "I'm sure they had a good reason to do what they did." Wow....
I'm thinking there's a pedophile on staff at the school district office who's getting pretty nervous right about now.
Eric took the kids rollerskating on Saturday, and then out for milkshakes. At some point during their outing, Cole informed Eric that he loved Eric more than he loved me. Eric, of course, took perverse pleasure in retelling this conversation to me privately after they came home.
And of course, when Colson came into the kitchen, I had to say to him, "So, I hear you love Daddy more than you love me..."
Cole looked at Eric with a grin and accused, "Did you tell her??!?!" Eric said to him, "Sorry, I had to."
I said to Cole, "Hey Cole, I love Zachary more than I love you."
Cole responded confidently, "Well, he can't even read, so that can't even be true."
"I love Ava more than I love you."
"She's not even an expert at Wii bowling, so I know that's not true either."
At which point I gave up. Cole is so confident of his greatness that nothing and no one can destroy it, not even an evil mother like me.
Zach teaches us how to properly brush our teeth, and Colson takes over interview duties. I haven't watched it yet, so only the Lord knows what is on this video...
"I grew up in a Pentecostal Church. When I was in middle school, I'd raise my hands and worship to the music. While doing this one day, my leg started to shake violently- an obvious work of the Holy Spirit. I noticed that once I shifted my weight onto the leg, it stopped. After being convicted that I wasn't allowing the Holy Spirit to work in my life, I shifted back to allow the Holy Spirit to shake my leg.
The Holy Spirit shook my leg for several weeks. I soon grew tired of it and stopped allowing Him to destroy my leg muscles."
When I read this, I laughed out loud for 3 minutes straight. I've been repeating the phrase "I shifted back to allow the Holy Spirit to shake my leg" in my head over and over, and it makes me laugh every time. Try it, it's fun. So for that reason, Mike Van Hal wins Matthew Paul Turner's book! Congratulations! Send your mailing address to shmoozanne74 at gmail and I'll send the book asap.
While Mike wins first prize, I must acknowledge some of my favorite entries. You all kept me very entertained last night, and I thank you for that. This was my first blog contest, and it taught me that I really love judging people. It's my calling. There will be more giveaways in the future, so keep checking back.
Second prize goes to seeitblind's worldy parachute pants story. I absolutely adored it:
I remember my dad taking me to see my first concert at the age of 8...Petra's "Not Of This World" tour. One of the things that stuck out in my mind, beyond the lights, the stage setup, the songs, the decibel level...was the parachute pants. As a soon-to-be hip 9 year old, I knew having a pair of these rockin' trousers would thrust me to the heights of coolness, just like it did for Greg X Volz. Alas, after getting home and reflecting on such an amazing experience, I conveyed to my mother my desire to be the coolest kid in my Christian school by getting a pair of shiny, royal blue parachute pants. My mother's response?
"No way. Those are too worldy."
Thus began a life inside Christendom that would include no parachute pants, being forbidden from watching cartoons like He-Man, and not being allowed to ride Six Flags' "The Demon" rollercoaster, simply because of the name.
Chad Estes takes third prize with his Psalty story. I was a HUGE Psalty fan, and Chad's "Psalty, Men In Tights" story is hysterical:
I found myself a little self conscious when I was backstage moments before the start of my church’s children’s program. Even though I was in 7th grade the Children’s Pastor had asked me to be in the musical “Psalty the Singing Songbook.” I was excited to have the lead role, to have several solos and to have the attention of thousands of people. But just before going on stage for the first of five performances I realized that these thousands of people, including my friends, who were going to see me wearing blue tights. Wearing pantyhose, no matter what the color, is a poor decision to start out your Jr. High experience. Trust me.
And last but not least, fourth place goes to my niece Bonnie's smart Mastercard comment, which made me laugh because I was the one who directed her 10 year old rendition of "The First Noel" and let me tell you, it was priceless. She could have won a ventriloquism contest, that's how much her lips moved...painful.
Copy of Hear no Evil $10.19; Amy Grants 'My Fathers Eyes' album $7.99; My rendition of "The First Noel" for the Childrens Christmas concert.... PRICELESS!
Oh, andJonathan Stegall gets 10 points for using the phrase "Jesus metal". Using Jesus as an adjective always scores major points with me.
Thanks again for playing! Come back anytime, you're a funny bunch.
Matthew Paul Turner's Hear No Evil made me laugh out loud. It's the story of an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist's passionate and sometimes illicit relationship with music, from childhood to puberty and beyond. Turner tells his story with a combination of self-deprecating honesty and deadpan sarcasm that will have all but the strictest of Fundamentalists dissolving in a fit of church giggles. Grab yourself a copy today from Amazon.com, but not before you scroll down and try your hand at winning a free copy from yours truly!
Having come of age in an Independent Baptist church in the late 80s and early 90s, so many of Turner's stories brought back memories for me. My forward-thinking and independent minded father was the pastor of our church, and he spent so much time trying to get the parishioners to step out of their IFB boxes. He convinced the elders to approve a contemporary worship service in the summer, and even country line dancing (can you imagine!!?!), but both activities had to be held in the semi-detached gymnasium. That way if God smote us, the organ and the baptismal would be safe.
Turner explains how much of an impact Christian music had on his life. Having an older brother who was a worship leader, and being a musician myself in the church at that time, I was right there with Turner when he was describing his wide-eyed love for the contemporary Christian artists of that time period. Thanks to my older brother Andrew, Keith Green was my first contemporary Christian music crush, but Amy Grant joined him as an object of my affection immediately the first time I heard My Father's Eyes.
And now, because he made me laugh out loud, Matthew Paul Turner has become one of my Christian Author crushes. Maybe he'll autograph my Bible someday...
Win a copy of Hear No Evil!!
To enter, all you have to do is post a comment in regards to music and church. It can be a childhood memory, an opinion, or simply a favorite song. At 10pm tonight, I will choose the comment that tickled my fancy the most, and announce the winner tomorrow morning at 6am. So try not to be boring, folks, and get your comments in by 10pm EST.
Last week in her art course, Ava studied architecture and interior design.
Ava chose to design a church for her architecture project. The roof over the porch says, "HE WANTS US!" and under the "HE" it says "(GOD)". Just in case you weren't sure who wanted you...
For her interior design project, she had to either design a fantasy bedroom or make a diorama of her own bedroom. This is her bedroom, although I have to say that her diorama version is much cuter than the real version! I'm especially fond of the dramatic bed and the giant pink mirror over the closet doors.
My brother Andrew and I were baptized together when I was 16 and he was 24. In order to be baptized, we had to attend a series of classes and memorize the answers to various catechism questions, questions that would be asked of us during the baptism. This posed a problem, because Andrew was never much of a memorizer. I, on the other hand, was a memorizing fool. So Andrew, being a fan of finding the easiest way through any situation, decided there was really no reason to really memorize the answers if he had Suzanne The Memorizing Machine in the pool with him. He just acquainted himself with the general wording of each answer, and was good to go. Does this ring any bells, Andrew?
Q: "What is your only comfort in life and death?"
A: "That I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with His precious blood, and has set me free from all the power of the devil. He also preserves me in such a way that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, all things must work together for my salvation. Therefore, by His Holy Spirit He also assures me of eternal life and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live for Him."
(Of course, Andrew's real answer to that question was "That my sister is better skilled at memorizing than I and cares about the future of my soul, and as such will allow me to ride her coattails through the pearly gates without malice".)
The Sunday morning that we were baptized, as we stood in the pool together in front of the entire congregation and my father posed questions to us, Andrew just looked at me and made various "humunuh, humunuh" sounds and got every fourth or fifth word correct. Because I was a paragon of virtue, I made sure to speak slowly and clearly, giving him the best opportunity to follow along and make it into heaven with me.
Though Andrew is not skilled at memorizing, God did bless him with the gift of comedy. From the creation of a joke to the delivery and timing, Andrew is second to none. So you can be sure that if Andrew had been the one who memorized the answers and I was the one following along, our baptism ceremony would have sounded something like this:
(Andrew told me about "Garth and Kat" the other day, how much their shtick reminded him of games he and I used to play. You can tell that while the scripted gag is that the songs are unscripted, Fred Armisen is doing his best every time to trip Kristen Wiig up.)
Yeah, Mom and I had that same expression on our faces too. Apparently you write all of your worries on pieces of paper, fill your God Nest with them, and you take the worries out and pray for them. They were learning the concept of God taking your worries away. Not sure about the nest allegory, but whatever
Mom and I found the term God Nest very funny. We couldn't stop saying it, and laughed harder each time the other one used it in a sentence. At one point, Mom told me to "put THAT in your God Nest and smoke it!"
Some time later, while driving to the restaurant, Zach asked me a random question. "Mom, do you think it looks like it's going to be a tornado outside?" I said no. My Mom said to him, "Are you worried about a tornado coming?" He nodded his head, and Mom responded jokingly, "Well, just write it on a piece of paper and put it in your God Nest!"
He wrinkled his forehead and said with disdain, "Uh, don't you mean GO HIDE IN THE BASEMENT?"
Apparently he thinks the God Nest is ridiculous too....
Once upon a time there was a Princess who was born with an extra large heart. This heart was created differently from other hearts, because while it refused to love everyone, it had the capacity to love boundlessly and fiercely those who recognized it. The HeartCreator knew that because this heart would beat itself to death for those who knew it was there, He had to make the Princess's heart harder to spot.
So the HeartCreator placed this heart under 100 mattresses. Though the Princess would never be able to pry her heart out from underneath and hold it up for the world to see, He knew that someday a Prince with ultra intuitive skin and x-ray vision would sleep on these mattresses and feel it buried far beneath her surface.
As the years passed, many Princes climbed the ladder to the top of the mattresses and spent a night sleeping there. And in the morning, each one of those Princes would wake up refreshed, completely unaffected by her heart. She'd look in their sweet, shallow eyes and know that they were not the one she was looking for.
But one night a certain Prince fell asleep on her mattresses and woke up the next morning covered in bruises, complaining of aches in his neck, and asking the Princess what that huge lump was in her bed.
And she knew he was the one she'd been waiting for. The one who recognized and felt her heart as if it were naked, with nothing at all protecting it from the outside world. And to her surprise, because he intuited that lump's capacity for immeasurable love, the Prince vowed to sleep on that uncomfortable mattress for all eternity.
Happy Valentine's Day to my Prince. Thanks for being tough enough to sleep on my heart.
Every time I come across this picture of Colson, I think it looks like he's on an episode of Survivor. Like he's marching down to the beach to create an alliance with the women. Like he's heading to the shelter to confront the tribe villian before Tribal Council. Like he's stomping to find Jeff Probst to complain about the living conditions...
Wednesday evening, during the eye of the storm of 2010, I opened my front door to this sad sight:
It's my favorite tree, the one by my front porch. It's the perfect size and has the prettiest red leaves. It's one of those trees that make you feel like you're in an English garden on a perfect Spring day, with bare feet and a dog-eared Jane Austen novel. Like little white butterflies are always flitting around it, chasing the dandelion snow. Looking at it you can almost smell the honeysuckle and if you squint you can see Anne of Green Gables peeking around from behind. Come to my house in the spring and you'll see what I mean.
Anyway, I looked out and saw the tree like this...all bent over and looking like she was about to break. As if the weight of all the world was on her shoulders, and she was fighting valiantly just to keep from cracking underneath it. My neck hurt just looking at it.
I told Ava to run up and ask Eric, who had just come in from clearing the driveway, to come down and knock the snow off the tree. He and his Grinch's heart yelled down, "No way!". So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I kicked off my slippers and put on his giant size 15 boots, threw on a coat, grabbed a broom and went out.
Apparently when he heard that I was out knocking snow off the tree, Eric thought it was so funny he told Ava to sneak down and take a picture of me doing it:
Sure, I'm wearing a nightgown over capri pajama pants. Sure, I'm wearing size 15 boots with no socks. Sure, snow is falling down right on my head and down the back of my neck because I didn't fully think through the laws of gravity before banging a broom against a tree laden with snow.
But I saved a tree's life that day. As the snow fell from her limbs, it was like she was shaking off years of burden. As she stood straighter, inch by inch, I could hear the dryad deep within her thanking me in whispers.
My sister lives in a mobile home park in West Chester, Pa, and she lost power for 4 hours during the blizzard yesterday. She called me at 1:15pm, when the power had been out for 2 hours and 45 minutes, about to lose her mind.
Amy: I'm dying over here! I had such a great blizzard day planned, and this power outage is ruining everything!! How am I supposed to enjoy this blizzard without electricity?!?! I've got no internet, no TV, no hot water...The worst part of it is that I'm missing out on a great snow day. Relaxing on the couch, watching TV, surfing the internet; that's what's SUPPOSED to be happening today. This blizzard is not turning out to be like I wanted it to be, can I get my money back??! I mean really, I'd rather be at work now. If I can't enjoy this blizzard the proper way, I might as well be making money.
Amy: Ugh, I just need to get out. Ed (her boyfriend) is shoveling his car out so we can at least get out of the house. (now mind you, our entire area was in the middle of a blizzard at that point, and the blizzard conditions were only supposed to worsen as evening approached.)
Me: You do realize that even if you get out right now, and are able to make it to a location, the chances of being able to drive back home later tonight are slim to none.
Amy: There's got to be a restaurant open or something...I just want to take my laptop and go sit somewhere that has wi-fi. Google some restaurants in West Chester, see what's open. And don't complain about having to Google for me, just be happy you CAN Google!! And check to see if any movie theaters are open, even that would be okay.
Amy: I'd go drive to someone's house to spend the night, but that REALLY spoils my snow day. I just want to be in MY house relaxing. If I go somewhere else, I'm guaranteeing that my snow day is officially over. And if I found out that my electricity had come back on while I was gone, it would kill me. I don't care about how cold I am, I just need my entertainment! I can pile on blankets, or eat dry cereal, but I can't take the stillness!
Me: Yeah, you'd make a great homeless woman, as long as you had your internet and your cell phone...
Amy: What I really want to do is go to a hotel, but the Holiday Inn is charging $140/night!! This is where my frugality kicks in...if it were $80, I'd be there in a minute. That's the only other place I'd feel like I could enjoy the blizzard. I just can't enjoy it when I'm in someone else's house.
Me: Eric just said to check with your homeowner's insurance company, maybe they'll cover a night at a hotel.
Amy: Um.....I guess that means I have to actually find that paperwork to get their phone number? And does he not remember that I live in a trailer? How good can my homeowner's insurance possibly be?? The total value of my house might be less than a night at the Holiday Inn Express.
Me: Yeah, it's true. You always see on the news that when natural disasters occur, the trailer park people are the ones who die first and last. Nobody cares about them, or their wretched little houses...
She hung up at that point, as Ed was coming in from shoveling and trying to back the car up. She was afraid he was going to tell her that there was no way they could drive anywhere.
After I hung up, I called PECO. Knowing Amy uses her cell phone for everything, I was able to report her outage using her cell phone number, and when they verified that I was Amy, the automated message told me that they were working on that specific problem, and expected to have it fixed by 2:30pm.
I called her back to tell her the news. I heard Ed yelling to me in the background, "Do you have some Ritalin for your sister??". After I told her the ETA for getting her power back, she let out a huge shriek. The power had come back on. "I'm hanging up now, I don't need to talk to you when I can IM you!"
Eric and I watched Hoarders together last night. We were chatting during the commercials, and realized something.
When I feel antsy about the state of the house, my urge is to start cleaning the hidden places. Junk drawers, catch-all cabinets, linen closets, toy boxes, my makeup box...Places that I know have been accumulating crap for months, maybe even years, and will just continue to fester and spread. My first instinct isn't to straighten up the random papers on the kitchen island or clear off my nightstand. In my mind, those things get straightened up so often that they're not the danger. I may go a few days without cleaning off the kitchen counters, but they're going to get straightened up fairly quickly. The hidden places, not so much. They can be untouched for months....they're the scary places to me. I feel so good when they're organized and purged.
Eric's first instinct is to clean up the places in full view. He wouldn't get to the unseen places until everything seen is straightened up, and maybe not even then, because at that point he feels good about how the house looks. His is probably the more common approach to keeping up a house.
The snow this weekend reminded me of my favorite Halloween costumes of Ava's. The snow princess. It was a perfect mashup of Glinda and the White Witch. Which, strangely, could describe Ava's personality as well....
When Colson was 3 and 4, he used to play with the traditional "army guys". You know, the green army guys that are posed in various ways on a base. Colson had a funny interpretation of their appearance. His army guys were apparently part of an elite division that not many people know about....
He'd make them talk while he played with them:
"Hey, get over here and help me!"
"Sure! I've got this skateboard stuck to my feet, so I can get there really fast!"
"Whoa, we're being attacked! Skate over behind that big rock and hide!"
"Everyone, the enemy is running away, skate around and surprise them from the front!"
I just can't get enough of these girls on YouTube who review beauty products. They fascinate me. The way they talk, their choice of wording, their enthusiasm.
Part of my modus operandi as a parent is to make things that I know will set my children off sound really casual and non-threatening. This trait has served me well as I've had three abstract children, and abstract children can be VERY strange in their personal preferences.
When Colson and Ava were toddlers just starting to eat adult food, I knew that if I gave them true explanations for what they were eating, they would react in horror. For instance, if I overcooked one side of a grilled cheese, I knew they'd ask me what the "black part" was. Because I knew the word "burned" would not go over well, I had to come up with something very nonchalant to say about it.
So I'd say, very casually, "Oh, that's just cookin' stuff..." (and I'd always say it just like that, cookin'...without the "ing" sound. 'Cause it sounds much more threatening to say cookING stuff. Cookin' just comes out really fast, and your worries melt away.)
They'd say, "Ok" and just eat it.
If I made pork chops and they had burnt edges, "Oh, that's just some extra cookin' stuff..."
I used cookin' stuff to explain away specks of black pepper too, knowing that if I said "pepper" they'd wrinkle their foreheads.
It got to the point where they'd talk about the cookin' stuff to each other. "Colson, this one has lots of cookin' stuff on it!" "I know, Ava! The cookin' stuff is really good!" "I think I'm going to pick off some of this cookin' stuff".
Those days are gone, not just because I've learned to cook things better but because the kids don't buy that bullshit anymore, still Eric likes to tease me about it. He'll say, "You know, the kids are going to grow up and go out to eat and ask the waiter for a steak with extra cookin' stuff. Ava's going to be all, "Can I get the cookin' stuff on the side?"
"Colson's girlfriend will cook dinner for him and he'll say, "Wow, you put a lot more cookin' stuff on your chicken than my mom used to..."
Eric will say, "You need to write a cookbook called Cookin' With Cookin' Stuff!"
We interrupt your usual Monday Mornings With Zachary programming to bring you the following:
The inimitable John Lindo came out to the Big Apple Ranch, where I was DJing, on Saturday night. John Lindo is a West Coast Swing icon, winning Invitational Jack and Jills more times than he can probably count. John travels all over the globe to teach west coast swing, most recently in Moscow! He also runs a swing event in June, Liberty Swing. I met John a few years ago at an event, and not only is he an amazing dancer with the most incredible sense of musicality, he's a sweet, guileless man with a heart of gold.
At 10:30pm, he walked up to the DJ booth and told me that he was doing a demo at 11pm, and asked if I would dance with him....!!! Woot!! He looked through my music and picked a song, and the following video captures the first half of our impromptu lead and follow routine (my camera battery died at that point, argh!). I was so excited it didn't matter that I'd worn sloppy clothes that night. I'd wear a potato sack to get to dance with John Lindo....
*sigh*....you can never go wrong with navy and white. Especially when it's in the form of eyelet, chiffon ruffles, and stripes. I beseech you to take a closer look at the shoes. Navy with white polka dots, peep-toe-with-a-bow espadrilles. I can't stand it.
One of Zach's earlier irritations, at a family holiday party.
Unhappy with the way a day at the park with friends turned out.
Another family holiday party. Cole was directing a play, Zach was irritated.
Zach's 4th birthday party. Birthday parties, his or anyone else's, are so hard for him.
Trick or treating at the zoo. His buddy Luke ran up to him and "scared" him at the beginning of the event, and Zach had a hard time recovering.
Right before Ava's school concert. Zach was irritated at something, but I told him he HAD to get in the picture.
While Ava's fashions have certainly given her a bit of extra flair over the years, these photos prove that it's not the clothes that make the woman.
Ava chose to design a church for her architecture project. The roof over the porch says, "HE WANTS US!" and under the "HE" it says "(GOD)". Just in case you weren't sure who wanted you...
For her interior design project, she had to either design a fantasy bedroom or make a diorama of her own bedroom. This is her bedroom, although I have to say that her diorama version is much cuter than the real version! I'm especially fond of the dramatic bed and the giant pink mirror over the closet doors.
It's my favorite tree, the one by my front porch. It's the perfect size and has the prettiest red leaves. It's one of those trees that make you feel like you're in an English garden on a perfect Spring day, with bare feet and a dog-eared Jane Austen novel. Like little white butterflies are always flitting around it, chasing the dandelion snow. Looking at it you can almost smell the honeysuckle and if you squint you can see Anne of Green Gables peeking around from behind. Come to my house in the spring and you'll see what I mean.
Sure, I'm wearing a nightgown over capri pajama pants. Sure, I'm wearing size 15 boots with no socks. Sure, snow is falling down right on my head and down the back of my neck because I didn't fully think through the laws of gravity before banging a broom against a tree laden with snow.
See? Doesn't she look more carefree?
The snow this weekend reminded me of my favorite Halloween costumes of Ava's. The snow princess. It was a perfect mashup of Glinda and the White Witch. Which, strangely, could describe Ava's personality as well....
