If the Globe Gets Any Warmer

The last few days in Alabama have been snowy, baby!  I don’t even remember the last time we had a significant dusting so to have several inches on the ground more than once this winter has me wondering if the government has pointed the HAARP towards the deep south.

The ionosphere must be out of whack to see this in my front yard:

1.  The beginnings of Snow Girl aka the first snow creation my kids have built since 2000 which consequently makes it the first they remember.  She has a much larger base but Luke couldn’t lift her middle section.  I’m so glad Papaw didn’t decide he had something to prove and throw his back out trying it anyway.  How do you explain that to your friends?

2.  Boy Three on Snow Girl’s original backside.  She’s definitely got some junk on her trunk.

3. No day in the snow is complete without a snowball fight. This isn’t going to end up well.

4.  Boy Three nailed Two in the face. I don’t like where this is headed.

5.  His hair is even invested in this warfare. Warfare hair. I need me some of that.

6.  Three knows he is in trouble so he runs to hide behind me.   I locked the door and continued taking photos like any good mom would.

7.  The finished Snow Girl complete with the obligatory hat and broom. At least we gave her a smaller tail.

We just got a phone call saying that is school is out again tomorrow. 

Somebody point that HAARP at my head.

One Down, Three to Go

Boy Two turned 12 a couple of weeks ago and due to early Saturday morning basketball games and bone-chilling cold, we just got around to having his annual birthday sleep over last night. He’d held out hope that he and 6 of his closest friends would be able to go to the outdoor skateboard park but it rained. Dern.

Instead we stayed at the house and I fed them insane amounts of pizza, chips, and carbonated beverages. If y’all remember, we turned the garage into a playroom a couple of years ago so I locked their caffeinated selves in the Man Cave. Other than the occasional sonic boom of a kid being thrown against a wall, they were actually pretty calm. The smell coming out of that room this morning though? Not so calm. Think locker room with a side order of methane and you have what I hope this room will smell like a week from now.

At 2 a.m. I decided to be an uncool mom and make them all go to bed. I let them stay up so late thinking they would sleep until at least lunch. Fail. They were up at 6:30 a.m. I laid in the bed in denial until they all started singing a medley of Pants on the Ground and Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong to Me’. Something about a bunch of pre-pubescent boys with squeaky voices hitting that sour high (can’t you SEEEE-EEEE-EEEEE you belong with MEEEE-EEEE-EEEE) note was definitely more effective than any alarm clock I’ve ever had.

Breakfast was actually pretty great if I do say so myself. My MIL got us a belgian waffle maker for Christmas that I absolutely love so I cranked out 12 gigantic waffles, fried 3 lbs. of bacon, threw it in the trough and backed away quickly before I lost a limb in the frenzy. One of the boys grabbed a fist full but thought better of taking it all when the others started growling. Like really. They were growling.

Note to self: Buy more bacon.

So one more of the once per year extravaganzas has passed and the next for Boy One is coming up in a couple weeks. He turns 14. What kind of stuff do y’all do for birthdays as your kids grow beyond the party hat/pinata age?

Whatever we do, I’m hoping these guys have realized Pants on the Ground’s 15 minutes were up 20 minutes ago.

And they don’t serenade me with Taylor before noon.

(And that I find an awesome sale on pork products.)

Eyes Tightly Open

Last night our church observed a day of prayer for missions in remembrance of the Pentecost. Judith (our missions coordinator) led the program and showed a well-done IMB video on the fascinating Sayang people of the Pacific Rim. Afterwards, we went to the track next door to prayer walk for this virtually unreached people group.

I took the kids over with me and gave each of them a bullet point on the prayer guide to concentrate on. I noticed Number One (he’s 13) looked a little perplexed but then he looks like that often. I’ve told you about him before, but the best way to describe him is wonderfully, naively, innocent. The kid has amazing book smarts – but the street smarts? Notsomuch.

After I’d told the kids what to pray, One looked at me and said, “Momma, can I just pray with my eyes open so I won’t run in to anything?”

Just when I thought I couldn’t love that precious boy more…

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