Archive for April, 2010

Doesn’t David take awesome photos?!!  She is having a really good time.  A good time dancing!!  She tried to do my death stare at the ball to see if that would stop it, but of course it didn’t.  I give her an “E” for effort.  Eventually she figured out that she had to physically stop the ball in order for the ball to stop rolling into the goal.  She only ran off of the field about a dozen times to get hugs from mommy and from her friends.  She would hug and, most of the time, then run back onto the field.  If she was mad because someone wouldn’t let her have the ball after she chased after it, I would have to “place” her on the field to get her to play again.  She didn’t understand win/loss or point/goals, but she understood when a boy took the ball away from her.  Darn him!!!!  Chris and I just laughed and clapped for an hour.  It was hilarious and fun to watch.  It brought a smile to everyone’s face watching that game.  Who could get mad? (Well there were a few parents who chose to go down that road, but we didn’t.)

Goalie Dance

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Two rabbits in the blue bonnets.

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End of the night

I am up trying to get one more load of laundry done, finish some church work for tomorrow, clean the kitchen, prepare for the week, do a little more computer work and wait for Chris to come home.  So much to do.  Luckily the bewitching hour hasn’t come yet . . . that would be at 1am.  It can all seem overwhelming at times.  The list is long but time is short.  The kids did help clean up their rooms (to some degree) today and worked on the playroom (with a threat of the trash man taking away the stuff left on the floor).  Patient is a rare commodity around here.  Both with myself and amongst the kids.

The sweet news is that all of the kids are having a slumber party in Madie’s room tonight.  They are camping out on Madie’s floor.  They have been looking forward to it all day.  So cute!  Ainsley has an electric candle (the Christmas candle that you place in the window) by her head for safety (she says).  They all made pallets on the floor with their favorite pillows and blankets.  They look so small and sweet snuggled on the floor all together like that.

Well . . . the bewitching hour has come.  I am going to switch the laundry one more time, wipe down the counters, take the trash out and call it a night.  The morning will come too quickly.

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There are two things in the sporting world that I was never fond of growing up.  Sweating and balls.  I hated to sweat and balls always ended up hurting me (broke my finger picking up a basketball).  Hence the reason that I decided to be on the swim team (I am sure that you sweat swimming, but nobody knows about it!!!).  I digress.  This weekend my children sweated hard for their teams and gained many bruises from being wacked with balls (both soccer and baseballs).  Even my Ainsley finally decided to become aggressive and go after that ball.  When she wasnt’ primping for Uncle David and his camera, she was actually running after the boys who were two heads taller than her and getting the ball away from them.  Awesome!!!!

It has been a busy day with all of the games and other activities, but we are chugging through it all.  I think that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  In June?  Maybe.  Until then, each Saturday we will be having fun watching the kids play their games.  Telling them to “just brush it off” (for when they get whacked with the ball) and “man up” (to Ben when the pitcher hits him in the shoulder with a baseball.  I told Madie to “man up” and she looked at me funny).

By the way, I beginning to see the wisdom of encouraging all of my children to join the swim team.  It may take all morning for a swim meet, but you are in one place. You set up camp. You walk to the pool to see the race. You go back to your “set-up” to wait for the next race.  And most importantly,  all three kids are involved at the same pool on the same day.  Driving the kids to all their games on Saturday morning has taken on a Herculean effort with many hands on deck.  I am having to call in favors and promise favors to others just to accomplish it all.  This is when moving closer to family has its benefits!! Thank goodness for good friends and family.  I think that I might just make it through the end of this sporting season.

Check out Uncle David’s Flickr page to see all of the awesome pictures that he has taken.  Including Princess Ainsley’s game yesterday.

Rugby is a dirty sport

Driving towards the goal


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The day has been long.  School, Girl Scouts, soccer practice, and now dinner/home/bed.  The ickiness of the world tried to creep into our” neck of the woods” today.  There was a lot of overwhelming sadness this morning as we feel for those people who hurt today.  Turning it to God is hard.  The faith of a child makes the path to God seem so easy.  My three children are in the kitchen this evening (while I fix dinner) with the ipod plugged into the speakers blasting the music and dancing.  Dancing with a true and free spirit.  This pure love is a joy to see.  It would brighten the devil himself today.  So enough wallowing.  It’s time to dance!

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It seems that today the world seems particularly rough.  The world seems full of sadness today.  Chris says that most days are full of sadness for someone somewhere but I am only seeing it today.  Thank goodness that I don’t see it every day!  When the sadness is caused by something that I have no control over, it is even more disturbing.  My general way of dealing with it is to try to take in the sadness for every one.  No one should suffer.  Everyone should be happy.  I have broad shoulders.  Let me carry the burden.  I try to redouble my efforts to help others. That always makes me feel better and the world to seem brighter.  In the end I realize that I cannot carry the load alone and I must give some to the Man upstairs.  He is much better at it than I.  So today I am making an effort to not only spread some positive in the world to counter all of the negative but to also give back to God with prayers of thankfulness and strength.  Especially strength.

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After picking the kids up from school and running twenty errands, it was finally time to head home.  The kids have been periodically complaining that they were hungry and asking what’s for dinner while we ran errands, but when we turned the corner into the neighborhood the voices became louder as they begged for dinner details.  I told them it would be tasty (that’s my general evasive maneuver when I don’t really know what I am going to fix).  When that didn’t work, I told them I was fixing rutabaga.  They asked what rutabaga was.  I told them it was a delicious vegetable.  They complained. I told them that Ms. Shirley agrees with you and told me that I shouldn’t give you rutabaga.  Madie said that Ms. Shirley was right and that rutabaga shouldn’t be given to children.  I told them that they should try and get Mr. Larry and Ms. Shirley to let them become a Finke because that was the only way that they were going to avoid rutabaga.

Just at that moment Ms. Shirley’s suburban drives by (the TOL sticker in the rear window is always a clear indicator as to whom the car belongs).  Unbeknown to us Ms. Shirley is on her way home at that moment (of course, I play dumb and pretend I don’t see the car but, doggone it, the children spotted it immediately).  The children start to chant “Save us, Ms. Shirley!”  “Please”  “Don’t make us eat rutabaga!” “You are our only hope!” (that one was Ainsley).  We are nearing our house.  Ms. Shirley’s brake lights come on.  Madie shouts, “Thank you, Ms. Shirley.  She will save us.”  But then her suburban moves on (the car in front of her must of slowed down).  There is a collective groan from the three children.  And Ainsley says very sad and pathetic, “I guess we have to eat rutabaga now.”   Poor Ms. Shirley.  She had no idea the life and death struggle my children felt like they were dealing with in the car and the pivotal role that she was playing in the outcome.

Please note that I as their mother do not routinely buy odd vegetables to serve them.   Although I am a huge fan of all normal vegetables unlike my sister who doesn’t like red fruits or green vegetables (Poor Gordon!) But I stick to the basics.  When Chris’s grandma moved out of her house, she sent her pantry to our house.  Included in the gift was canned rutabaga.  I see this as an opportunity to try something new.  My children (and others apparently) see this as a means of cruel and unusual punishment.

This is my proof that I actually own a can of rutabagas.

I have promised my children no rutabaga tonight, but I have assured them at some point in the near future rutabaga will be on the dinner menu.  In the end, I . . . will . . . win. (insert evil laughter here.)


I called Ms. Shirley to share the story and ask permission to put her on my blog.  She granted permission with the caveat that I NOT feed my children rutabaga.  Fudge Brownies (the words we use in this family in lue of cussing)!  If it wasn’t such a cute story to share, I wouldn’t have agreed to the deal.  But in the end I must feed the blog 😉

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That is a direct quote from Madie.  Tonight at bedtime Madie informed me that she felt like her life was zooming by.  One minute she is loosing her first tooth and the next minute she is in second grade reading chapter books.  She is shocked.  She doesn’t want it to go by so fast.  Slow it down, Mom.

Poor thing.  If this point is the highlight of her life cycle, then we are all is sorry shape.  Not to worry Madie.  Life does get even better.  Just wait until you have your own daughter.  That is when life gets good!

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All about chores.  Yes. That’s right. Chores.  I don’t know if anyone knows this but I am the only parent on the block, in the neighborhood, in this town, in this state, or in this universe that assigns her children chores. No one. And I mean NO ONE has chores but my children.  All we ever do is clean.  Of course, this entire scenario is based on my conversation with Madie.  Who, by the way,  hates her mother at this moment. I assure her that most children should have chores and if they don’t then I promised Madie that I would have a conversation with that child’s parent and convince them of the benefits of having chores.  Boy did that set her off even more!  She crying upstairs while she cleans the bathroom.  But at least she is cleaning the bathroom!

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My children are beautiful delightful creatures of God’s handiwork who can become (at the exact moment that I want to take a nice picture of them) truly the spawns of Satan!  Are they truly trying to spoil my one true desire to have a nice photo of them in the bluebonnets?  Maybe it is because they are not native Texans.  Do the bluebonnets compel all those non-natives to be devious while amongst the state flower?  I don’t get it.  I explained to Ben and Ainsley that taking pictures in the bluebonnets was what Mommy wanted most in life.  If they did this nicely, it would be the greatest gift that they could give to Mommy.  Didn’t they want to give Mommy a gift?  Yes, of course they all replied.  My foot!  They had no desire to be helpful to me.  None.  Hardly a smile crossed their lips.    Instead I heard . . . “I’m hungry.  I’m thirsty. Bugs! Dirt!  They won’t share the blanket.  I don’t like these flowers.  He’s touching me.  She’s touching me.  Get off me!  Mom, are we done?  Can I leave?  etc. etc. etc.”

Did I mention that Chris refuses to go with me?  He said something about how he would rather have Jeffrey Dahlmer move in with him than go take pictures in the bluebonnets with me? Second time I asked him, he said, “Did hell freeze over?”  Third time I asked him, he asked me if I needed a body limb because he would rather donate one to me than come with me to the bluebonnets.  Ok.  I get your point.  Thanks, dear.  I think that I may consider “Photo shopping” my children into the bluebonnets next year instead.

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