We're gonna party like it's your birthday...

As I mentioned before, this weekend was Big Sister's birthday party. It was a great day, even though it just about nothing went according to plan.

First, we took forever decided on where to have the party in the first place, so the invitations were late. We usually just hand deliver them at church, but since school is about to start, no one was at church to get their invitations. This was a sign of things to come- over half of the kids we invited were unable to come because they were traveling on this last weekend before the start of school.

Then, on Friday we found a huge split in the van's front tire. So DaddyClay spent all Saturday morning waiting to get it fixed (and discovering it was not covered by the comprehensive tire warranty. Blargh.) Since we were planning on taking sprinklers & pools & slip'n'slides to the fields at church, my party preparation plans included him. They had to be changed. Fortunately, my mom & dad were here & helped tremendously with hauling & setting up everything.


Second, I had several issues in my baking for the party, from not having cake mix (I always have at least two boxes in my pantry) to crazy runny icing. If I had received any money for making the cake, I would have reported myself to Cake Wrecks.


Other little things came up too, and in the end we were still setting up the water stuff when the guests arrived. The breeze felt great, but it kept gusting the table cloth up into the cake, or knocking over the party favors, or blowing out the candle as soon as we got it lit.

This is a re-enactment. There were so many hands keeping the wind off of that candle,
I didn't even see Big Sister blow it out.

In previous parties, I've had stations set up with activities relating to the theme- from books or art projects to bubbles or balloon animals. This year, there was no real structure. The teacher in me was not really comfortable with that. I'm still not really sure what gifts Big Sister got because there was just a blur of four-year-olds, wrapping paper, and cards.



But the kids had fun. Big Sister didn't even notice the smaller group of kids or the lack of things to paint or glue. She wouldn't have even noticed the drooping cake, if I (or Shep) hadn't pointed it out.

She was too busy having a great time with her friends and family.

Aside from the mistakes from which I most definitely have learned more than a few lessons, I gained some other pearls of wisdom, too. For one, I could have forgone at least one of the crazy water toys and simply had a "puddle party."

For another, I learned that even babies fall victim to pointing out the speck in another's eye icing on another kid's face while neglecting to notice the plank in frosting on their own.


I learned that I am not okay with the idea of having a daughter old enough to play with Barbies.

I learned that packing extra towels or baby wipes is always a good idea. And that my kids are super cute (okay, I didn't just learn that one...)

And I learned that sometimes, even when things don't go according to plan or I am less than prepared, we can all have a great time. Happy Birthday (again) Precious Big Sister!

Song for Sunday: scattered

I've had a very scattered weekend. I had way too many things on my plate, but I just couldn't seem to stop myself from taking more & more helpings when people offered them to me. I only wish the repercussions to this (figurative) heaping platter were as simple as a tummy-ache or a few extra pounds. In truth, I did manage to take care of everything, but I do not feel that I did any of them well. Instead, I felt that I just kicked into survival mode and did what had to be done. I do not like functioning this way.

I've been reflecting on why I let myself feel (or get) so overwhelmed. I've been busier, had more responsibilities, more stress, less time- I can't just blame my circumstances. But for whatever reason, I've just been unfocused. It's not that I didn't care about the things that I had to take care of this week (parties for my daughter's birthday, getting ready for my parents to visit, Children's worship, a bridal shower, and so on); it's more like I just didn't realize how far behind I was until it was too late to catch up well. Or even more likely: I just didn't grasp the time constraints I was facing- I thought I could do it all. I did, but just barely- not (repeat after me) well- and only by the grace of God. If you were someone who was there to see me doing less than my best, I am sorry.

I'm trying to manage my time a little more wisely, to clear the fog & get motivated, and to remember Who is really the Boss of me, my efforts and my time...

In the Middle of Me
by Todd Agnew

I need a little more sunshine in the middle of rain
Need a little more joy in the middle of pain
Need a little more color in the middle of this plain jane

I’ve looked as deep as I can see
And I think I need a little more You in the middle of me

I need a little more patience in the middle of stress
I need a little more beauty in the middle of this mess
Need a little more substance in the middle of this emptiness

I’ve looked as deep as I can see
And I think I need a little more You in the middle of me

Need more of You and less of me
More of You and little less insanity
More of You and little less complexity

I’ve looked as deep as I can see
It seems more of You is better for me

I need a little more rhythm in the middle of this lazy rhyme
Need a little more spontaneity in the middle of this daily grind
Need a little more truth not music in this world of lies

I’ve looked as deep as I can see
And I think I need a little more You in the middle of me

[ In The Middle Of Me Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]

Happy Birthday Big Sister!

Four years ago today, we welcomed our firstborn into the world.

It was a Saturday, the day after our official due date. We were scheduled to induce the following Monday, because I was extremely swollen. But while the hubs was about to start mowing the yard, my water broke. I'm pretty sure I told him he could probably go ahead and at least cut the front yard, that first babies usually take a while, and that I wanted to take a shower before we headed to the hospital. The contractions were starting, but I didn't want to be gross in the hospital (if only I had any idea what was coming!)

I called my midwife, and we headed to the hospital. On the way, we heard Daughters by Jon Mayer. We called my parents, who were already on their way down to help us get ready for Monday. Of course, our girl had other plans. She always does.

It only took 7 hours, from the time labor began until I was holding that scrunched-face perfection in my arms. I gave in and had the epidural; I'm pretty sure now that I've read more about it that I was having terrible back labor, and I just didn't want to be completely miserable when I met her. Of course, I couldn't have been, no matter how hard or painful the labor might have been. She was amazing.

She still is. Four years later, she still has her own agenda. She has the most vivid imagination and astonishing intelligence I have ever seen- and I'm not just saying that because I'm biased! Though she can be quite silly, she can also be very serious. She has the most tender heart. She has the most stubborn head. She can make me laugh, cry, and count to ten to try to salvage patience, all within a few minutes time. I can not wait to see who she becomes.

Seven hours of (rewarding) labor to meet her. Four years of (equally rewarding) laboring to guide & love her to the best of my abilities.

I am blessed.

Happy birthday to my huge-hearted, hilarious daughter.

My daughter, the mob boss...

Yesterday when we picked Big Sister up from school, Hubby & I were so tickled by something she told us that we actually fought over who could share it first. Since she actually said it to him, he won. This is the note my hubby posted on facebook last night. Maybe if he ever updates his blog, it will appear there as well. Also, he had no intentions of editing out Big Sister's name when he originally wrote it, and I wanted to try to leave his writing style as in tact as possible, so bear with me:

My Daughter is Going to Be On Real Housewives of New Jersey Someday...

So, today I went to pick up [Big Sister] from school. I was asking her how her day was and, knowing that she threw a couple of fits this morning, if she chose to make good decisions at school today. She assured me that she did by telling me the following story (Note: there are two particularly "bad" kids in [her] class that sometimes pick on her, Blake and Stephen. [She] can qualify for "bad kid #3" on any given day):

[Big Sister], excited to be through with the day and the chance to spend the evening with Mommy and Daddy, joyfully yelled out, "Hey, dad! Guess what?!?"

"What?"

"Today, Stephen punched me and I didn't punch him back. Instead, I went and told my teacher, and he got in trouble!"

My chest swelled with pride. "[Big Sister]! That's great! I am so proud of you!" I said as I scooped her up in my arms and gave her a big hug. "But, why in the world would Stephen want to punch you?" I asked.

"Because he was mad. And so he punched me, right here in my left boob."

I expressed concern. "[], that's horrible. Why was he mad?" I continued.

"Because another kid punched him. And so he came over and punched me," she said, still full of joy and unaffected by where the story was headed.

"[], that is not good. What in the world is going on in your class that would make another kid go over and punch Stephen?"

[Big Sister], still beaming with pride, look at me and with a straight face said, "Because I sent the kid over to punch Stephen. And then Stephen punched me, and I didn't hit him back! I went and told my teacher and Stephen got in trouble! Aren't you proud of me!?!?"

And honestly, in my inner Michael Corleone/Tony Soprano, I WAS...

Well said, Honey. Thanks for putting it into words for me. Of course, you kind of "made me an offer I couldn't refuse." ha!

The kind of man I'd like to be...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my husband was attending an Upward training conference in Birmingham this past weekend. We were without kids for the first time since our trip to New York over a year-and-a-half ago. So, in between sessions, we squeezed in as much time together as we could. We had a lot of "old haunts" to visit in Birmingham, so our schedule was jam packed.

In fact, one day he was a little late to his training. But while he was late (just a few minutes, really) to a session to offer him some tips to further his Upward ministry, he was learning a lot about some other important ministry areas. We both were.

One of the places we visit whenever we end up in Birmingham is Roly Poly, a shop that sells all kinds of creative sandwich wrap combinations. There are Roly Poly franchises all over the country, but just not near us. Side note: my personal favorite is #30- Basil Cashew Chicken, which in addition to the obvious also has a spicy thai sauce, avocado and sprouts. Yum. I now feel the need to head back down there and get another one. This time, I'll probably have to take the kids, for reasons I will explain in a post forthcoming...

Anyway, back to the story: We went to Roly Poly for dinner, in part because we love it, but also because it was close to the hotel. We knew we were short on time, so we just planned to take it with us and eat it on the way. Only one problem: it. took. for. ever.

We were the only people in the restaurant except for a tiny blonde girl, about five years old, sitting at the back table coloring. When we sat down to wait for our order, she changed locations and picked a table right by ours.The hubs and I rarely get time together without our kids, so we weren't overly excited about hanging out with someone else's, but we figured she belonged to one of the workers and was probably bored. I grabbed a few of the free city scene magazines and we looked through them together, playing a game in which we guess the age of every child we found on the pages.

There were admittedly a few times we tried to look completely enthralled in our own magazines, hoping the little chatterbox to our left would take the hint and read silently as well. She did not. We talked to her about a friend's birthday party (at Pump It Up) and her school. We told her a little about our little girls. We looked at our cell phones, silently willing the time to pass so that we could get our food and go (it had been about 25 minutes at this point). Hubby got up to use the restroom, and when he came back, I did the same- if for no other reason than just to break the monotony of the wait!

As I came back to the table, I heard hubs talking with the man who had just come from the kitchen and was now behind the counter. He was smiling, watching the little girl, and warning us that she would "talk your ears off" (too late!). He apologized for the wait and explained the combination of circumstances that had caused the delay. When he asked us if we had a punch card, we told him that we were from out of town, though I had once lived just around the corner.

He then began to tell us about the crazy mass murder that occurred at my old apartment complex last year, though not before taking us outside so his daughter couldn't hear. We talked with him more, and found out that he was a marine, but he had been injured and was no longer active. His wife left him and he had gotten full custody of his daughter. He now was going to school, working numerous short shifts (the manager lets him work shorter hours at a time so that he can bring his daughter when she isn't in school) and raising a little girl by himself. He confided in us that although he had learned to braid hair, he knew very little about helping her to grow into a woman, and worried that he didn't have time to date to find the right person to help him.

I looked in the window of the restaurant at the chatty little blonde still perusing magazines and told him he seemed to be doing a fine job. His smile shone. Soon she too came outside (we were the only customers, and it was a beautiful afternoon) to visit with us for a few more minutes before we walked to our car and hurried back to the hotel.

As we drove off, my hubby and I had the same mix of emotions. There was stress at the idea of running behind, sure. But there was also guilt that we had almost rushed through that situation without getting to know the people around us, hearing their stories, and offering encouragement. And relief, mixed with a bit of satisfaction, at the knowledge that we did stick around.

As we rode the elevator up to our room (he had to grab his notebook before heading on) my wonderful husband turned to me and said, "That is the kind of man I want to be." He went on to say that he has wondered and worried about what would happen if something were to happen to me, if he were left trying to take care of his girls by himself. The idea that our new friend was dealing with that, as well as working and going to school and coming back from serving our country... well, as my husband said, "You never know what some people are going through." Or how strong they are.

I wonder how many strong or struggling souls we have the chance to meet every day, if we would just slow down and truly see them. And yet we almost hurried away from them so that we could make it to something to support our "official" ministry. What a sad irony.

When I think about it that way, I'd guess that Jesus wasn't one for schedules and hurrying past those He came to love. I'm sure He knew what was most important, and that it wasn't always being on time or going to the right meetings. Maybe that is just another one of the reasons He rubbed the religious people the wrong way.

To me, it's just another one of the reasons He is the kind of person I want to be...

Song for Sunday: Clicking my ruby slippers...

Home Sweet Home

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home! Home! sweet Home!
There's no place like Home, there's no place like Home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gaily, that came at my call
Give me them and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home!
There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, of give me, the pleasures of home!
Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home!
There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from the cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble there's no place like home.
Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home!

There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!

These lyrics came from this cute site!

Set my heart at ease...

Remember that last long post? The one about nostalgia? Well, put on your rose-colored glasses cause this post is full of it. (nostalgia. not full of it... oh never mind.)

We were in Birmingham this weekend. The husband came for Upward training, and I just came to tag along. To keep him company. To have a much needed escape. To "renew fond memories." This was most definitely a Sentimental Journey. We met the summer before he moved to Birmingham to begin seminary. Then I moved down to attend school.

We lived there while we were engaged and scrambling to simultaneously plan a wedding and write long, boring papers (or in my case, long boring units about addition or Eric Carle).

We lived there for the first 2 1/2 years of our marriage.

We were a part of some of our favorite (and least favorite) church families there.

I endured those torturous first years of teaching there (my school was wonderful- I was just, you know, green. And not in a compost & bamboo flip flops good kind of way...) and he got his feet wet in real ministry.

We adopted Al Dog there- when we just went in the pet store to get fish food. (We're not at all the impulse buy types... ha!) A little less than a year later, someone brought a litter of Siamese kittens to school, and we added Keaton to our family too.

The first seven months of my pregnancy with Big Sister were there- those precious, wonder-filled experiences of meeting our first child.

We spent a little time, when he was not in session, catching up with this town we once called home. A lot has changed. And not just the restaurants that have closed or the new Whole Foods or the completely rerouted interchange where we used to get on I-459.

For one, many of our friends have moved on. John likened this trip to revisiting your college campus. Some of the buildings look the same, but there are small changes to be noticed everywhere, and very few familiar faces.

But looking around at all that has changed around us since our last visit caused me to notice what is perhaps the biggest change of all: us.

It has been a little more than 7 years since I moved down to Birmingham. I was living alone for the first time in my life (at a place we just found out is now known in the area for a giant Mexican drug cartel murder, no less!). John and I were students- we had crazy schedules including school, part-time church jobs, and lots of adventures. We were young & in young love. It really was a magical time.

It is easy for an idealist like me to get caught up in the idea of how life used to be there. To remember when we found the house we rented when we got married, the one within walking distance of the library and post office and Whistle Stop Cafe. To sigh when remembering strolling with a much younger Al Dog around Samford's campus or one of the lakes near my apartment. To think about how much time John and I spent together, even with those crazy student schedules...

Of course, there are realities that I remember too, if I allow myself to think hard enough. Some just a little less magical, some mundane, and some are downright harsh. There were days (and sometimes several of them in a row!) when we couldn't leave fast enough. But in some ways it's even nice to remember those. It's a reminder that we survived, even thrived, and came out better on the other side.

When I sat down to type this, I was ready to say that I loved our life together in Birmingham. I'm not sure that's the best way to say it anymore. I loved our life together, and I still love our life together. To use a trite stage analogy, Birmingham wasn't a player; it was only the backdrop.

The scenery has changed, some key characters have been added, and there has been some aging depth-adding for the leads, but the story continues. There are new plot twists and lots of adventure and even a few musical numbers, but it is our show. With an All-powerful Producer/Director, of course.

So yes, it has been fun to take this trip down memory lane. But when I think about Doris Day singing about her Sentimental Journey, I think she got part of it wrong (which is hard for me to say because I love me some Doris. Who doesn't?) My Sentimental Journey didn't lead me home. It reminded me with whom (and Whom) I've built a home. And how blessed I am to have them, no matter where I end up or what lies ahead.


I mean, it's just like Doris said, "Que sera, sera..." (You can't not reference this song in a post about Doris Day. It wouldn't be right...)