And then I turned around and he looked like this:

And then…

Now?

Fifteen years. Happy birthday kiddo.

• We got some not so great family health news that sent us reeling a bit. (Jon, the boys and I are all healthy. Well. Jon’s lungs are currently trying to drown him but long term…healthy.)
• We “adopted” a boy from Uganda (as in we’re supporting him financially, not that we brought him home with us)
• I hiked Tablerock with TheKid and TheBoy.
• Jon & I celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary with a relaxed evening at home.
• We celebrated TheBoy’s fourteenth birthday.
•  I finished the spring semester (4.0 baby!) and started the summer semester.
•  We took the boys to see Avengers (I’m calling it now as the best movie I’ll see this year)
• I attended the Lifeway You Lead conference immediately followed by the Beth Moore conference.
• The usual mix of kids’ school/friends/church/work/chores continues…

TheBoy graduates 8th grade this Friday and moves into high school next year. We’re going to have two high schoolers. Two. Which also means we almost have two boys old enough to take driver’s ed…if they maintain a B average. So it doesn’t look like that’s happening this year. And honestly that doesn’t disappoint me. At all.

TheKid finishes out his freshman year on Friday and celebrates his fifteenth birthday. In the past two weeks he’s learned to make macaroni & cheese by himself and how to jump start a car. He’s alMOST ready to be on his own with those skills.

Lilbit is as cute as ever. He sat and watched an hour long biology lecture with me the other night. It’s online so he was fascinated. He sings loudly in the shower and often serenades us. He made up a card game the other day although I never did find out the rules. But he stopped to play the card game “War” with me first. And he drew all of us pictures the other night. Mine is now propped against my work computer.

I’ve discovered that I’m apparently dairy…sensitive…maybe? Dunno. I can have a little bit. Yogurt, cheese, butter…that doesn’t SEEM to bother me. But drinking milk or having ice cream makes me…ill. I don’t consider it a loss. At all.

The weather is starting to feel summer-ish and I’ll get to start summer work hours in June – nine hours Mon/Wed/Thurs/Fri and half a day on Tuesday. Love those.  I’m ready to go get burritos and sit in the sand with Shayna.

Upcoming…Friday’s post for TheKid’s birthday.

blooming trees

of more than one variety but equally beautiful

Then of course there’s the playfulness outside.

Summer might be my favorite season, but spring is a close second.

(Clicky for full size pics)

From Matthew chapter 27:

50 Then Jesus shouted out again, and he released his spirit.51 At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart,

Okay…so all that is old news to me. It’s awesome but I’ve heard it. But then…then…

52 and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. 53 They left the cemetery after Jesus’ resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people.

Wait. What?

This of course prompted a deep discussion on how people could continue to disbelieve with that kind of evidence and if you had the opportunity to to talk to a dead buddy wouldn’t you ASK him if Jesus was who he said? At which point I looked at my friend next to me and the following conversation ensued:

Me: “Um….quite frankly if a dead guy shows up in front of me, my first response is NOT going to be to start a intellectual conversation about the after life.  I’ll be trying to remember my zombie invasion prep plan.”

Her:  “Shoot them in the head.”

Me: “Double. Tap.“

And the guy across the circle listening to us? I think he quit breathing for a bit.

We also discussed how the guards at the tomb probably soiled their garments when the earthquake happened & angel appeared & they passed out. I oh so helpfully  pointed out that the big mean Roman guards passed out but the two Marys? They had a conversation with the angel. (Jon tried to say that it’s because they weren’t there when the earthquake happened & the angel appeared but I bet they felt the ground shake where they were). But then it says they ran off to find the disciples filled with fear AND joy. So someone said they probably wet themselves a little…which prompted the women to explain that’s normal after having kids especially while running.

My Life Group. I love them.

When he was about two years old, I would hang my purse on the front door handle of our apartment when we came in. One day I was getting dressed and needed something from my purse.  I walked into the living room wearing just my jeans and a sports bra. My toddler flung  himself across the front door, arms spread wide and yelled “NO MAMA! SHIRT! SHIRT!”

One day when he was barely four, I put my hair into pig tails. As we left for daycare he asked “Please don’t take me in. Just drop me off.” (Yes. Four.) He then informed me my hair was “weird” and his friends would probably laugh. (Yes. FOUR.) Of course I walked  him in. I couldn’t “just drop off” my preschooler even if I could have passed up the opportunity to torment him. But when I picked him up that afternoon, he had changed his tune and asked if I could wear my hair like that every day. Because one of the little girls he liked said it was cute. (Yes *one* of the girls…two of them fought over him on the playground and he ENCOURAGED it.) (YES! FOUR!)

When he was six we were with a friend and I decided to get a second hole pierced in my ears. He freaked out so bad over the IDEA that my friend had to remove him from the store while it was done. And he refused to look at me the rest of the evening.

When he was nine, he went to a summer camp for a week. While he was gone I had my hair cut off…from below my shoulders to a super short A-line look. At pick up, he walked right past me, paused a moment turned around and yelled “WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?” He barely spoke to me the entire two hour ride home.

Last night I got a pair of black knee high boots, super cute, with a low heel. I proudly put them on and showed them to TheKid and TheBoy. TheKid looked horrified and gasped “You are *not* wearing those in public when I will be seen with you!!” I told him *most* women I know have boots similar to these and he said “But my MOTHER does not wear them!” He then stormed out of the house. (Okay so they were on their way out anyway. He still stormed.) Apparently he associates the term “hooker boots” with ALL knee high boots and feels they are inappropriate for my closet even though they’re a low heel.

Maybe I should have his girlfriend tell him she loves my boots. He’s really going to freak out when I come  home with my nose pierced isn’t he.

And apparently I’m the only person in the country that didn’t like it. At all.

I think they did a great job of utilizing commentary during the games to explain some details. I think they did a fabulous job in casting. I understand there were ratings and time and money limitations. It’s probably a great movie separate from the book. But I simply couldn’t divorce what I had visualized & the imaginatively experienced with what was floating across the screen.

The books were chock full of pain – both physical and psychological. The characters transform and regress and evolve. They suffer. They experience psyche rending horrors and joys only appreciated in contrast. They are multi dimensional and (some are) complicated and gritty.

On screen? They were flat. Colorless. Haymitch and Effie were almost after thoughts. Relationships weren’t developed. The story was watered down. The Capital was…unimpressive. Katniss and Peeta’s entrance outfits and her dress…wimpy. The arena? A vacation spot. Their “wounds”? Surface at best.

I did tear up at the beginning when Prim’s name was called and when Katniss had to say her goodbyes. There were highlights I enjoyed….Rue peeking around a tree or in the rafters. When Kat shot the apple out of the pigs mouth. Ceasar Flickerman.

Some of the changes made sense given time and were quite well done. I liked how they incorporated conversations between Snow and Seneca Crane. I really enjoyed the behind the scenes of the game-making. But some? Totally pointless. Why change how she got the pin? Why remove Rue’s role when it helped knit them together & that is crucial down the storyline? Why not incorporate Kat’s hearing loss after the explosion…another detail that is moderately important later on?

The whole thing was…anti-climatic. Truly a let down. I shouldn’t be surprised. Only LoTR and Harry Potter have come close to living up to the books. With Hunger Games the best part was when my husband held my hand.

I was on the way to church tonight when a loud pop/bang occurred & suddenly I heard what sounded like a large diesel truck without a muffler. I looked over at TheKid & calmly said “Hmm. Perhaps we should pull over. “

Ok. Actually I yelped in a rather panicked & strangled voice “IS THAT MY CAR MAKING THAT NOISE?!? “

I did pull over onto the next side street and proceeded to shake just slightly less than violently. Because if something breaks on my car, we’re going to end up homeless on a street corner. Its just there way it works. Car trouble equals a bajillion dollars that destroys us & leaves us destitute and without transportation.

Does it make sense? Absolutely not. We have 2 vehicles & live within biking distance of work & school. Do those facts prevent the shaking? Nope. But I didn’t burst into hysterical tears so THAT’S progress.

Thankfully my husband was behind me in his truck. And he took one look at my car & knew how to fix it…for a total cost of less than $50. I’m terribly grateful for him (& his patience with me).

My solution? I’ve started using natural prompts in my everyday routine. I pray for familial relations, transitions, interactions etc when cooking dinner. I pray for each boy individually as I make their lunches. I pray for my husband and our marriage as I do our laundry or prep for the next day.

They’re small moments but they’re worth embracing.

My maternal grandmother would have been 80 today.  She was a very pretty lady, petite and fiery. She didn’t leave her house without dressing properly which meant a skirt…and gloves. I stood many a day on her porch yelling “Mamaw! It’s just me. Would you please let me in?!!?” while hearing her putter around yelling back “Just wait a minute! I have to find my lipstick!”. And ladies? They sat up straight and did NOT pass gas in any manner.

She was an avid reader, a trait she passed on to my mother and me. Her house was crammed with books from the overflowing shelves to novels  scattered on most of the flat surfaces. I grew up staring in wonder at those shelves, often trying to sneak off with one tome or another before she’d take it away. She did release books to me slowly until I was in jr high when she gave me free reign over her collection. I was in grade school when she went back to college but I remember how excited she was. She loved classes, especially writing classes, and she was terribly proud when one of her articles was published in the school newspaper. (Sadly she was unable to finish due to health issues.) She was also an avid Razorback basketball fan and never missed a televised game. She’d sit with one hand marking her spot in a book and a cigarette waving in the other as she yelled encouragement alternately with tirades of frustration at the t.v.

She was a single mother, raising my mother and uncle alone while working as a secretary. As I entered the working world she would look me in the eye and warn “Don’t you EVER let anyone call you ‘their girl’ do you hear me? You’re more than that.” She was determined that I be strong and self sufficient, that I could support myself financially and emotionally.

She was also a very bitter woman with a hard exterior. She was never able to forgive my grandfather nor accept that he changed and matured into a wonderful man. She hated my father and was forever looking for proof that he was the monster she imagined (and he isn’t). She felt that way about most men, my uncle and ex-husband being the only exceptions, but it resulted in a familial rift that lasted for years. I was the only one who was allowed to cross that battle line, the only one she would entertain, much less speak to.  She had virtually nothing to do with either of my sisters. Her tongue was sharp and her words poisonous.

In the end, she gave up on life. I want to cling to the good memories I have of her. I want to pull those out and polish them up and embrace all the wonderful things she taught me. But the truth is there’s nothing to embrace. All my memories are hazy with pain and regret. She fully embraced me only when I chose to mostly estrange myself from my family. And while I am grateful for her sanctuary and support at that time, she only loved and accepted me on her conditions. Misery loves company and we were both miserable.

She died in September of 2003. And she died mad at me. She chose to ignore me. She refused to speak to me, to look at me, to acknowledge my existence. At the end, it was my turn to be on the receiving end of her poison that my family had suffered through for so many years.

She gave me a passion for reading. She taught me to question, to think for myself, to be independent. But her overall lesson was that love is conditional, that I can never be good enough and without being thin and pretty and successful I am ultimately unlovable. I wanted so much to be as pretty as she was, as elegant. I wanted to be as strong as (I thought) she was, as smart as she (absolutely) was.  I want to miss her and reminisce fondly. But in the end, I mostly only regret trying to love her.

These shoes make me incredibly happy. As does the fact that I’m wearing a shirt to match.