It’s Friday Night and if I’m Lucky There Will Be No Sewing Involved

Hey Girls!

I only have a pair of minutes to be on here today.  I’m putting the finishing touches to a message for a Women’s Appreciation Day in Smyrna, GA.  I am SO excited that I’ll get to see a couple of Siestas, Sheryl and Sherry. (I think you are coming, aren’t you Sherry?)  Can’t wait to hug their sweet necks and be with them on their home turf in suburban ATL!  The Lord has goaded me with a word from Ezra.  And yes, I used the word ‘goad’ intentionally.  However, I’ll reserve the explanation for a later date so I won’t be giving out spoilers.  Let me just say this:  The only difference between a thorn in the flesh and a goad is on how we choose to process it.  Either way, let’s pray for sufficient grace to receive even the ill-intentioned prods as well as the ones administered in love with humility and allow them to do their perfecting work.  

And that’s just a side note..not a spoiler at all.   

I also have to sadly report that Ezra/Hobie/Bartholomeow has gone missing.  All I know is that he was here last night and this morning was not.  I’m a little surprised at how depressed it makes me.  Something about nursing that baby back to health attached me to the little rascal.  I’m hoping he’ll return but it’s looking highly unlikely.  *Sigh*

I hope you have a fabulous weekend plans!  Football is in the air around here.  Quite literally as in my boy just walked by me in his practice clothes and I could gag.  I suppose that’s the signal for me to get myself to the laundry room.  He’s also about to drive me out of my everloving skull by stressing over the length of his new game jersey.  Apparently, it’s uncool to look like you are wearing a dress with leggings on the football field.  If the Braves can wear full length pants instead of proper baseball capris then I see no problem with the long shirt/legging ensemble.  However, he isn’t seeing it my way.  The current request is that I get out my sewing machine and hem the jersey.  Yeah, like that’s going to work out for him.  He obviously hasn’t heard about my high school home-ec final exam where I made a dress with the arm sewed on inside out and upside down.  I’m thinkin’ he’d be better off looking like he’s wearing a mini-dress than be stuck in a perpetual wave.  Maybe he’ll block a Hail Mary or a touch back or an offsides kick.  

I have no idea what I just said.   Sheryl is freaking out about right now.  (I promise, I’ve got coherent notes.  Lots of them.)

Happy Friday and Peace Out,

Lisa

Set Your Thermostat Low and Your Bars Lower

This morning the alarm went off bright and early and I woke to find Boy Two standing in the doorway twittering, ‘It’s time to get up, Mom!’

And by twittering I mean excitedly adding to the annoying chirp of the alarm clock, not updating his microblog.

After the fog cleared enough to see I wasn’t in some Twilight Zone where children enthusiastically leap from their beds every day and greet their mothers with a hug and a smile, I realized I was in the real world where that only happens on the first day of school and Christmas.   

Yes, we started school today – a Friday.  If anyone would like to clue me in on any obvious wisdom I’m missing in that County Board decision, feel free.  As it is, it feels I went on an extreme shoes, clothes, and school supply shopping triathalon in preparation for some sick dry run with no laurel wreath at the end.  The wreath being a full five day stretch of FREEDOM SWEET FREEDOM, BABY!

Sorry.  Got a little carried away there.

Oh, I jest.  A little.  We’ve had a fabulous summer (Oops.  I still owe y’all some vacation recap?) and if the kiddos weren’t so completely pumped to get back to dailyness with their friends then I wouldn’t be either.  Last year my emotions were a bit more unpredictable because The Girl began Kindergarten.  It still amazes me even now how our wee ones transform in the matter of one night from pre-schoolers to Bonafide Big Kids.  They change just like that and there isn’t a thing in the world – not a single, solitary thing –  we can do to stop it.   *sigh*

Hello, Melancholy.  My name is Lisa.  We don’t get together much.  Let’s keep it that way, shall we?

All suppressed emotion aside, I truly could have choked The Girl this morning.  Two and Three were ready for school early and wanted to go on before I was ready.  Considering I can throw a rock and hit the building, it’s nothing to let them walk and even take their sister from time to time.  On anyday except the first day that is.  I told the boys to go and I’d catch up.  The Girl wanted to go too but I specifically told her she had to wait on me.

I was halfway through The Taming O’ the ‘Fro and called The Girl to come in so I could add a few curls to her hair.  No answer.  Sis!  No answer.  Where are you?  Silence.  I ran through the house and realized that little rat had snuck out with her brothers.  Never mind she could have gotten kidnapped between here and there.  What are people going to think about me??

So, I didn’t finish the ‘Fro and took off to her class.  There she sits a perfect angel working on her coloring sheet.  I casually saunter in and fake like I meant for her to be there several minutes before me.  That’s before I get busted by my friend Christina who tells me she had already asked Girl where I was.  Wanna know what she said?  “Oh, she’s still at home.”   Oh, yeah.  Loser Mom was just hanging out at the house while her 6 year old walked her own self to school and settled herself into her class.  On the first day of school.  Alone.  By herself.  Solo.  Sans madre.

Did I mention she was unaccompanied? 

I leaned over sweetly and through a faux smile breathed some murderous threats in her ear about NEVER doing that AGAIN because not only could she get kidnapped but I would look like a BIGGER idiot if it happened twice and besides that, MY HAIR!  There’s nothing worse than a bad mom with a badder ‘do. 

So, I did what anyone would have done in that situation. I composed myself and made it a teachable moment for my friend, Christina.   I carefully explained how one should always set her bars low so no one expects much.  Imagine how impressed The Girl’s teacher will be if I decide to send GermX AND walk my child to class versus if I’m there all “on time”and “prepared” and “overzealous” yet later shatter my image by telling her I don’t want to be homeroom mom.

See how that works?  You’re welcome. 

Why am I telling you this?  Because I feel there may be a mom among you who may be having a rough day.  Consider this sharing of my failures and inadequacies as a sub-ministry.  As long as you have me, you are always one up.

So here’s a fun thing I love to ask every couple of years or so.  Do you have a Loser Mom moment  with which you would like to encourage the rest of us?   One of the most disgusting and yet satisfying ones I’ve ever had comes to mind but it will need another post.  Y’all tell me yours and I promise to tell you mine.  I still bask in the glory because the teacher who was involved?  She totally deserved it.

Okay, y’all have a great weekend and we’ll talk soon.

Peace Out,

Lisa

p.s.  Thank you so much for all the kitty naming advice.  The boys insist on naming it Bartholomew.  Or Bartholomeow as Rena suggested.   I’ll be calling it Bart.  Or Ezra for short.  Because I’m studying Ezra right now and I want this cat to set his heart on understanding the Word of God and doing it. 

Lofty goals for a cat.  But if he can do it, so can we. 

 (Precious Sheryl Dean, expect to hear more about Ezra – the prophet, not the cat – next weekend! :)

Apparently Blog Posts Do Not Write Themselves..

…which is unfortunate since all I seem to be able to do is stare at the blinking cursor. I’ve just about meme’d y’all into oblivion so I thought it might be time for some real live mediocrity.

And since we are the subject of un-excitement (spell check wants un-excitement to be encystment. I have no idea what that means but it doesn’t sound exciting either!), the kids are in Big Testing this week at school. Apparently when it’s time for the Big Testing parents are supposed to provide nutritious breakfasts as opposed to the breakfasts we normally feed our children. Cookie Crisps and a Coke don’t count? What?!

Being the Wanna Be Good Mom that I am, I actually prepared food this morning that exceeded room temperature. After all that work, I’m expecting 99th percentile. And if the awesome grub didn’t do the trick, the brother-to-brother mentoring ought to work. This morning Boy Three asked Boy Two what a preposition was – you know, in case in turned up on his test.

With a knowing smile, Boy Two said, “That is SO easy. It’s a word that is found between some other words in a sentence.”

The child is a prodigy. Webster and Roget would be so proud.

And speaking of dictionaries and the like, I’m reminded to tell you my book finally has an official name! Y’all. It was harder titling the thing than it was writing it. Married to the Ministry was always tentative but after going through the titling process (did y’all know there is a whole titling process?), the publishers and I have finally agreed on…

*drumroll*

“You Can Still Wear Cute Shoes…And Other Great Advice from an Unlikely Preacher’s Wife.”

If you hate it, please keep it to yourself. I’ll be devastated. Okay, not really but it’d be great to hear your nice thoughts! I’m really, really getting pumped now because we can move on to cover design since the title is decided. I promise I will cry like stupid baby when I see this thing with a picture on front. I also assure you as soon as I have the design and I’m given liberty to share it, you’ll be the first to see! We may even make a little contest out of choosing a cover if I can get my awesome editor to arrange for a choice or three. I’m horrible at decision-making. Just ask anyone who has ever shopped or eaten with me more than once.

Alright, I know this is short but it’s time for the kids’ devo and early bedtime. I may just hit it a bit early myself.

I’ll need to be fully rested if I am to cook a warm, nutritious breakfast again in the morning.

This being-a-good-mom stuff is exhausting.

« Previous PageNext Page »