Hymn of A Band Director's Kids!

I was on (another) trip from my parents' home to ours with my two children. Moriah was in the front seat with me and Luke safely strapped into the backseat. As we were leaving city limits and the speed limit increased, I sped up to set my speed control to the maximum limit of 55 (okay, I set it to 60 but that's usually allowed, right?).

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my daughter was leaning over to my side of the car. "What are you doing?" I inquired. I was unaware at that particular time but that one question set the tone, if you will, for the rest of the trip.

"Uh, I was just checking that speed thingy and noticed that you are driving a little moderato."

'What?' I thought but didn't say anything. I didn't have time to respond. Out of the backseat came screams of laughter and joy. "ALLEGRO! Momma!!!"

"No, no, NO Luke! You do not want her driving Allegro!"

I yell out "Presto!" She screams in dramatic terror as only she can do. I start to laugh. She asks if I am aware of how fast I am going. I said, "Yes. I have the speed control set on 60."

"SIXTY!!!!!!!!!!! It looked like 48 from over here."

"Uh! Yeah! That's what I meant....48. I'm going 48 miles per hour."

"You are not! You really ARE going 60, aren't you? That IS Allegro!!!"

Luke is getting all excited and yelling 'Allegro, allegro, Momma!'

"Mom," Moriah pipes in, "You should always drive Adagio!"

At this point, I'm thinking 'Layoff you little Staccato!' But instead, I answered with "If I drive adagio we will never make it home! Can I at least go Moderato?"

I thought we had reached the finale but apparently it was only a coda. When we came into a small town, without thinking of the consequences of my notes, I said in what I thought was a piano voice, "Is this adagio enough for ya'?" Oh no! I was flat wrong....mezzo forte!! She heard me!

She glances over at the speedometer and quirks, "Yes!"

As we reach the city limits on the opposite side of this town, I said in the most uncool smart aleck voice I could come up with, "Crescendo!" She says "What does that mean?" HAH!!! Something she didn't know. I realized at this point that it had nothing to do with speed. I had to act quickly so as to not appear like a total moron. I said, "It means to gradually get louder; like this..." as I reached over and turned the volume up on the radio to fortissimo.

She turned it down and began to tell me about a dream in which she had the night before. An interlude if you will. In this dream, she and her friends that live across the street were building party buses like Miley Cyrus has and when they finished they helped Luke and Baby Carly (from across the street) build little baby party buses. This drone went on for 25 miles. But, since we are cruising along at allegro, is it really that long??

We came to the next town, it seemed only natural to stay on the motif. I interrupted her dream sequence to say "Duh-min-u-end-O." She pauses for a moment and then says, "Mom!!! Diminuendo has nothing to do with speed! Do you know nothing about music?....." This was followed by a reprise of musical knowledge that made me feel like a complete and total drooling ritard and turned my whole evening into a deceptive cadence.

I learned valuable information from this evening though. The key to survival in our little Capriccio is (even though you might feel the need to on occasion) refrain from choking your children with a chord and never beat them; instead, keep harmony in your household by treating each precious little one like a fermata. Hold them. Fine (Fin-A).

Prerequisites

I remember when I was in college and I had to take something called prerequisites. I thought: "what in the world is a prerequisite?" I dared not ask for fear of looking like a stupid freshman. I took the word into my internal memory and kept it in a file with other words such as syllabus that I was sure that I would only need for the next four years (or 6 but who's counting).
A prerequisite is a class that you must take in order to gain necessary knowledge for classes that you will take in the future. For example, I had to take College Algebra before I could take Agricultural Economics. I'm still trying to figure that one out! But, then again, I DID breeze through both of them with a 'D.' Hey! I passed! Layoff!!!
I'm not sure I figured out what prerequisite really meant until I had children. I'm constantly having flashbacks of things that I have gone through in my life that left me with a feeling of 'Why me?' only to be now left with a feeling of 'Eureka! Thanks God!' One such event came to me last night as I was reminiscing over the last 2 1/2 years and the many episodes of 'Revenge Nudity' (where all clothes and diapers are ripped off to make a point of control) and incidence of a little curly head leaning over the bath tub, staring down the drain because he's sure that Sally the Turtle is down there somewhere and the fear that he would somehow get blamed for her disappearance.
When I was employed by Children and Family Services, I had the pleasure of meeting and developing a friendship with a little boy. "Little Johnny" was your basic 7 year old, oldest sibling of a whole gaggle of kids. He came into my life one day as a result of a responsible adult who left he and his younger siblings alone with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey. Once the party got started, things got out of control due to an intoxicated toddler that the others were afraid was going to torch the place with the cigarette he was smoking. 9-1-1 was called by one of the children and the rest is history.
I had the honor of escorting "Little Johnny" to his doctor's appointments and parental visits. He was a delight to be around and never a dull moment was to be had. I was fresh out of college and still pretty proud of my little dark red sports car only to have it ripped apart by this child that I couldn't 'hit.' "Little Johnny" did everything from pushing all my buttons (both figuratively and literally) to taking off his seat belt and trying to jump out of the car going down the interstate. Thank God the speed limit was still just 55 then because another 10 or 15 miles an hour and I might have had to "push" him. Tee hee! Not really!!!!
After a few weeks, "Little Johnny" became the Dennis the Menace of our office and believe it or not some people actually hated him. I didn't particularly care for his behavior but I had a brand spanking new degree in "Human Development and Family Studies," tons and tons of prerequisites under my belt, and an undying belief that there was good in everyone (some of us just require a little deeper dig than most). The nearest I can describe as to how I felt about him is the character of "Little Nicky" from the Adam Sandler movie of the same name--while still the son of Satan he was more pitiful than the evil ones who had abused him all of his life.
One dreary day, I was scheduled to escort "Little Nicky, er, I mean, uh Johnny" to the pediatrician. Now, being a worker for DHS, I was not allowed to disclose to anyone who I was. It wasn't necessary because the office employees at the pediatric clinic knew and it wasn't really the business of anyone else. That worked really well for most children in the system but this Precious was a different story. He tried every bit of patience that I had but not before he had in some way annoyed every other adult in the waiting room. I was receiving glares that would bring the devil himself to his knees. I took it for as long as I could and then I announced to the entire waiting room with apparent despair in my voice, "HE IS NOT MINE, OK!"
A question from a mother whose child had been assaulted, "He's not yours?"
"No Ma'am. I am doing a favor for a friend who is at work." That was my standard answer because I did after all kind of like my supervisor (she was one of my bridesmaids) and she was at work. They didn't need to know that she wasn't the mother either.
The lady responded with, "You're a better friend than I am. I wouldn't put up with that."
I managed to get "Johnny" wrapped up in my arms preventing him from hitting anyone else and he couldn't throw anything. As he screamed for me to let go of him, I was headbutted and kicked. While I could have probably drawn Worker's Compensation, I refused to acknowledge getting beat down by a 7 year old. Those bruises were from running into the wall, yeah that's it! I managed to get one leg wrapped around him and explained to him while it was embarrassing to sit like this in the full-to-capacity waiting room, I was going to sit here and hold him until he calmed down. After about 5 minutes of intense pain for both of us, he settled down. Eventually, they called us back to the exam room. I'm sure that they put us in front of others just to get him out of there but I didn't care and neither did the other patients and their parents/guardians. "Johnny" and I got up from a seat and walked back together and he even took my hand and let me lead him back. *SHOCK!!!!*
Once the pediatrician came in the room, all of the calmness went out the window. The second he hopped up on the exam table it was like WWF. The doc handed him a tongue depressor....OK???? Does anybody else see this as a problem? I had no children at the time but I figured that handing this kid something that could easily be made into a shank was probably not the best idea. But, he was in the doctor's care now. ~smile~
The little boy took the tongue depressor and quickly slapped the doctor on both sides of his face like something straight out of the 'stooges' and screamed at him "ELVIS!!!!" OK! Minus the sideburns, he could have passed for the King....I guess! This invoked an unbelievably calm response from the doc of "Have you ever thought about maybe Elvis faked his death and he really still is alive?"
WHAT??????????? Where in the world did that come from? "Uh....no, Doc, can't say that I ever gave that a pondering?" Still, I was impressed at his calmness. Apparently, this wasn't his first "Little Johnny." Although, the tongue depressor strategy still remains a mystery. I guess it worked at some point.
Later, the doctor caved. "Is there anything you can do to help me keep him still while I finish his physical exam?"
"Ooooohhhh! I don't know let me see. I haven't had much luck before." I walked over to the exam table and said softly to the child. "Do I need to hop up there on the table and give you a hug like I gave you in the waiting room?" He looked at me with the sweetest expression in those deep dark eyes and said, "Noooooooooooo." He laid down on the exam table and allowed the doctor to finish the exam. All was well, until the inevitable examination of the unmentionable area. "Johnny" grabbed his pants, threw his leg over to protect himself, and screamed "HEY MAN!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??????" Thank the Lord and all things good this was the END of the exam.
We left the office that day, got in the car, and put on our seat belts. I said, "Look! I'm making a deal with you. From this point on, when you are with me, every time you break a rule, no matter where we are there will be a 5 minute time out." He agreed to the deal. For any infraction occurring while traveling down the road, we pulled over to the side of the road for 5 minutes. It took us 1 1/2 hours to drive 15 miles. I heard 'I'm sorry' more that day than I have the rest of my life combined. Each time, I explained to "Little Johnny" that if I let him off with less than the agreed to time of "5 minutes" then I would be a liar. "I will never lie to you!"
While other CFS workers hated even being in the room with this child, I never had another problem with him. They even called me a few times to calm him down. I think sometimes he just wanted a hug. I never gave him the "super hug" again after "that" day; but he was only 7!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Even though he was "Johnny the Barbarian," he still needed hugs! Something had happened to him in his short life that caused this behavior.
I still think of him regularly...especially, when I'm getting my lip busted and collar bone thrashed from head butting. Thank God for the curls that cushion the blows and another prerequisite on my life's transcript.

Calm in the Midst of the Storm

We had gone to my parents' home and spent the night for dentist appointments on the next day. We had a good trip with no significant out of the ordinary events; which in itself for our household could be some humourous situations. This day was filled with smiles, laughter, fun, and thankfulness like others but nothing to really blog about.
We went to the dental appointments and still nothing really to write home about. It was Luke's first experience at the dentist. He tried to escape several times. They were amazed at his abilities to open doors (as are we); especially the big heavy duty doors that are supposed be difficult for small children to open. He screamed during the appointment but this just made it easier for Dr. Willis to count his teeth. Nothing that really inspired me to write.
We left the office and headed back to my parents' to pack up. I had heard from other parents in the waiting room that there were thunderstorms headed for the area . I wasn't overly concerned. I was sure that we would be home by the time they hit. A weather bulletin came on the radio informing that a severe thunderstorm was to hit the area around 5:00. It was about 3:30. I thought to myself: I can pack, get out of town, and be halfway home before they hit here. Still, not overly concerned for our safety.
We got to my folks and I was packing our belongings, putting the car seat back, etc. It started raining. I told Moriah to get her things and get in because it was starting to rain. I got Luke loaded. I went back in the house to do the benediction and jump in and go. It was 4:10. I got in the vehicle. The wind was blowing and it was raining very hard by now. Moriah was extremely concerned but I told her to pray for our trip home and God would take care of us. But, before we left town, I had to stop and get gas. The rain was blowing sideways; I put my back to the rain and went on with my gas pumping. I had on a rain resistant wind suit; which I found out, means "difficult to keep pulled up on leather seats."
I was scanning the radio for weather reports not nearly concerned with the genre of music playing. We have traction control on our vehicle that has a little alarm that sounds and flashing warning lights when you start to slip followed by the vehicle grabbing a-hold of your car to stop the sliding. It is a very handy tool to have once you get used to the process. Every time this would happen (which was quite often in the first 30 minutes of our trip), Luke would say "I'm alright Momma. Are you okay?" I'm okay! Isn't that precious? Moriah, who is deathly afraid of storms, was watching 'Barbie as the Island Princess.' I was thinking to myself, 'Thank the Lord for headphones and tunnel vision.' I thought she didn't realize we were driving through a storm.
It still wasn't 5:00; the time in which the big storm was going to hit. I was driving 35 and 40 miles per hour. Police officers were pulled over and parked under awnings which made me wonder what they knew that I didn't. John calls me on the cell phone to tell me a tornado had touched down in Ola. I have to drive through Ola on the way home. While I appreciated the fact that he was keeping me informed about the wall cloud that was hovering over my vehicle, I expressed that this was a time that my hands needed to be at 10 and 2 and my knees did not need to be on the steering wheel so that I could hold the phone (I hate speakerphone and hands-free devices).
I see many things that should have scared the living daylights out of me. One particular event was the lightning that struck a tree right in front of me and I saw the specific tree catch on fire. I kept thinking to myself 'it doesn't usually rain during an actual tornado so I'm okay.' The rain stopped for a few minutes; a brief sigh of relief. Then, it came back blowing the other way. Again, a bit scary but I managed to convince myself that it was a different storm that had started. I said to Luke who had been silent for a while, "I'm okay, Luke! Are you okay?"
"No Momma! I'm not okay!" was the response. At this point, I started singing 'Faith is the Victory' and wishing that I knew all of the words. Those 4 seemed to help calm me down quite a bit so I just kept humming the song and filling in what words I did know. I could see the clouds over to the East and was so thankful that wasn't the way I was traveling. I was traveling on Highway 10 (if you know anything about how our highway system is set up in this country; you know that odd numbers run North and South while even numbered roads run East and West). I tell you this to let you know that the road had taken a slight curve to the South and I was about to turn and go East.
We arrived in Ola (where the tornado had allegedly touched down earlier). John called once more and asked where I was. He told me to pull over and sit for 20 minutes and the storm would be gone. What? I was 30 miles from home and I had driven in this the whole way (a usual 90 minute trip had already taken 2 hours and I had 30 more minutes to go). I wanted to be home. But, I listened. While we were at the Ola Mall (???), the employees there said that nothing had touched down there and they had been receiving calls all night about the damage to their town. They said that Atkins was hit pretty hard but nothing in Ola. Me, being totally geographically ignorant in the "way the crow flies" thought I had been concerned for nothing. We ate our snacks, drank our drinks, and came home.
I have to admit....John was right! We drove home to dry highways, no rain, and virtually no wind. We arrived in Perryville at about 7:20 (remember we left for our 90 minute trip home at 4:10). John said when I walked in the door, "you still have time to go vote before the polls close." I grabbed the doorknob to go; but I couldn't bring myself to walk out. John McCain and Mike Huckabee neither seemed very appealing to me at the moment; not to mention Romney, Hillary, and Obama! Yuck! So, I didn't vote!
In the days following, I watched the reports of the storm; all of the loss and devastation. I had driven the entire trip parallel to the storm. It was right beside me all the way. I was driving in to it! When the rain stopped and switched direction, was more than likely the "eye" passing over. While I was scared a bit, I never felt less than safe. It was a calmness of sorts that I can't explain with anything other than God's hand being over us. It was similar to the calmness I felt during the birth of Moriah. I am thankful for the blessing of ignorance shielding me from the seriousness of the situation.
Last night, Moriah's choir teacher at church told me about Moriah telling them Wednesday evening about how terrified she was driving home Tuesday. She had told them how she prayed that God would keep us safe and he did. I thought that she was back there in the back seat watching TV and was oblivious to our surroundings. What a little prayer warrior she is!
This past weekend, Luke broke one of my Precious Moments figurines. He gained access to it through the door of the curio cabinet that is absent of glass due to a faulty clubhouse that was built by 2 unlicensed contractors that pushed a winged-back chair directly into the cabinet and broke it. I packed the remainder of Precious Moments away and left the broken one (he just ripped the tail off of a lion--he's a ruthless kid) to be repaired. I discovered this morning that Luke had drawn on the walls of the livingroom for the 4th or 5th time. I cleaned it up and let him help me. I helped him rebuild the living room clubhouse that I swore would never be rebuilt. Right now, as I am writing this, a crash comes from his room. I go to see what it is (THIS TIME) discovering that he had thrown his lamp and shattered the bulb. I picked up the lamp, vacuumed up the glass, changed his diaper, cleaned his nose, hugged his neck, kissed him and came back to finish this story. Some things are not worth getting upset about. The "REAL" Precious Moments are much more valuable. If we had not been so richly blessed, nothing in our lives would ever get broken! How much more empty would we be?

I'm Turning Into My Mother......in-Law!

John tells the story of growing up with 5 kids in the backseat of a car with his mom driving down the road. Invariably, two or all three of his sisters would get into a fight. He explains it as "Mom would never take her eyes off the road and just start slapping at the backseat." He goes on to say that he and his brother would slither into the floor board or anything they could do to escape the flying phalanges.

Yesterday, Moriah, Luke, and I went to Greenwood to visit with my parents since Moriah had the day off from school. All was well until we loaded in the car to go home. It was starting to rain and it was hovering just above the freezing mark so time was of the essence to get home. We had just started out on our 1 1/2 hour trip when Luke decided that he want to yank on Moriah's seat belt. Bless her heart. She was sitting there, for once, not bothering anyone. When all of a sudden she begins to beg for mercy. Of course, this was funny to Luke who is right slap dab in the middle of the terrible twos (oh please Lord! Let it at LEAST be the middle).

I calmly said, "Luke, Baby, you are choking your sister. Please let go of her seat belt." The response of "NO!" rang out through our small tight quarters. I said with a little less calmness, "Luke! Let go!"

My little boy. He's so polite to everyone. He says 'please;' he says 'thank you;' he says 'excuse me' when he belches. At this particular moment though, his choice of words happened to be, "YOU SHUT UP, Momma!" WHAT??????????????????????????

You know when Bugs Bunny would do some despicable unthinkable act to Elmer Fudd and smoke would come out Elmer's ears? I never thought that was physically possible until that very moment. I could feel it. You could even smell the smoke in the car!!

I put my hand over the back of the seat. Moriah ducked. I start slapping at Luke's legs. Mostly to no avail since his car seat sides are higher than my arm. "Those words better never come out of your mouth again Little Boy." He DIDN'T cry; he didn't even try squirming to get out of the way. He sat there and looked at me as if some crazy had broken free from the chain and was running wild in the car. It was obvious that the several layers of clothes that he had on was shielding him and I was losing this battle. So, I stopped. I then explained that if he ever felt the need to use those words with me again I would pull over and take him out of the car in the freezing rain where my hand and his rear end would procede with a full contact debate. "You never tell Momma to shut up." At this point, Moriah was about to bust to get her 2 cents in so she outs with "or Dad!" I reminded her of the advantages of staying out of the conversation when Luke was getting in trouble. Well, not trouble so much, he didn't seem to care!

All was quiet for a few minutes. I was still flustered. I had to turn the heat down in the car. I glanced back to his car seat at him seated there just as sweet, innocent, and happy as can be. I said, "No telling how many times you've said that to us that we couldn't understand what you were saying." He busted out laughing!?! I had flashbacks of Sunday School and Shannon speaking of possible demon possession in her household. Moriah was sitting across from me with her finger over her mouth and her lips clenched tight to hold back her laughter. I looked at her with inquiry as to the humor of the situation. She quickly responded, "Nothing Mom! Nothing is funny at all!"

TIMBER!!!!!

If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make any noise?
If a tree falls in the living room and there is no one there except a two year old, did he knock it over?
Two weeks ago as I put the tree up and started decorating it, with the little guy around my feet saying "I have a turn" (meaning that he wants to help), I said to the tree "Will we make it through Christmas?"
Of course the tree didn't answer. But, if it could have, the answer would have been "Quick! Put me back in the box, I don't want to die."
I wrapped all of the presents and placed them neatly under the tree. Some of them I have wrapped twice since then. It looked so pretty.
Last night, I hear a slight noise that seemed a bit out of the ordinary. By that I mean, it wasn't a crash. Then, my little Luke comes running to the den yelling "Tree! Fall!"
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Word for the Day: Custody

Sunday, after having been gone to Kingston for Thanksgiving, Moriah sat in her room and played with her Barbies. They were all sitting around in her room like some sort of beauty queen convention. They were even seperated into social groups; you know, The Malibu Group, The Fairytopia Group, The Superhero Group, and the Social Outcasts (the ones whose origin cannot be established any longer or they aren't really Barbies at all). Ken was there too. He always hangs out with the girls.

A Barbie convention all by itself would not be too stressful or devastating. It was the apparent cyclone that had accompanied the convention. I expressed my concern in a calm manner over the obvious natural disaster that had struck because we had just arrived home that afternoon and it would not have been possible for ALL of those things to have been dragged out of the closets and strewn about the room. There could only be one of two explanations: natural disaster or "we've been robbed." And, since none of our stuff appears to have been "jack'd," it has to have been a twister.

Moriah has never been one to comprehend the whole "Clean your room!" concept. We usually try to approach it with baby steps; one small event at a time until the room is straight. While this usually works, it takes too long and doesn't fill my need for instant gratification.

I explained to Moriah that if her dolls were not out of the floor by morning she would most definitely lose custody of them. "What is custody?" I explained to her in elementary terms what custody meant and proceeded to give her a lesson in the antics of social services when we don't care for the blessings that God has given us. Followed by a reiteration of the definition of "foster care."

Monday morning, she had forgotten all of this. Had she not listened!? Am I shouting (not actually shouting, I wouldn't do that **bashful grin with my fingernail in my teeth**) into the wind? It sadden me deeply. But, I had to stick to my guns! No more spinelessness. I went into her room and got down on my knees.

One by one, I gathered their helpless little bodies into my arms. Some were clothed with swimsuits, some fully clothed, others tops and no bottoms and vice versa, and still others were completely naked. And, then.....bless his heart, there is Ken! There were 20 gathered in my arms. Twenty? Is that all!?!! How could that be? There must be more somewhere in the muck! Nope! The rest was mere aftermath of the storm. There were two small "Kelly" dolls on the floor still....but come on, I'm not totally heartless; even the Mormons left the small ones at Mountain Meadows.

Last night, I walked in Moriah's room. She had misplaced her progress reports that had to be returned to school. Is it any wonder? I started to help her look for them and then I stopped. "Moriah, I specifically remember telling you that I was done cleaning your room for you all by myself!" This was followed by a lecture on how we had only been home from Thanksgiving for 3 days and she was already growing mold and losing things in her room. There wasn't even a blank spot where the Barbies once lay!

She found the progress reports and as I signed them I started talking about the conversation of Sunday night about "Custody" and "Foster Care." She claims to recall something about it. I asked her where her Barbies were. She retorted, "In the drawers...where they belong!" That little head shake that she has acquired somewhere over the past four years! ARGHHH!!!!
"Are you sure?" I asked. "YES!" Ohmigosh! More head shaking...this time with a snarl!
I questioned how the Barbies could be in the drawers where they belonged when most of the drawers were scattered around the room.

She ran to her closet! Oh! The deafening sound of plastic and glass breaking and metal bending as it is trampled under feet. Could it be? Had Mom actually finally flipped her lid and threw her stuff away? I witnessed the oncoming birth of an attitude which was quickly aborted by the reminder of the word "CUSTODY!"

"Why? why? why? They are my family! I take care of them! They have no one but me!" By the way, that is not an embellished statement! She actually said that to me!!!! Just what are Hannah Montana and Drake and Josh covering in their story lines these days? Where does this stuff come from? You can't make that up! That came from the heart.

But, it was too late. Cruella had struck. The puppies were gone!

"When we are entrusted with caring for things, such as family, and we fail to do so. Sometimes, when it gets really really bad, someone comes in and takes them away. They aren't gone. They have gone to live in a safe place until we get our ACTS together. Your beloved family has been gone for 3 days and you didn't even notice."

"Acts? What acts?" I'm so glad she asked because it's been so long since I was able to exercise my social work skills. I continued.............

"Sometimes one must attend classes that teach us how to care for our entrusted ones. Sometimes we must merely clean up our environment. Once it has been approved by the court, then and only then, can our beloved ones be returned to us." Amen! So it has been said, so, it shall be done!

Throughout the night, I heard crying. Not just crying. Crying isn't a strong enough word but I'm not sure what the Hebrew word for 'whimpering that gradually progresses into crying out to the mountains to fall on you while pulling the hair and gnashing the teeth' actually is. That would be a more accurate description of the emotions that were oozing under the door to her room. So, thank you King James for simplifying things like....crying.

It was hard on me. I won't go as far as to say it was harder on me than it was on her; but it was hard nonetheless and started getting annoying after a few hours (okay, that was a little heartless).

This morning, I arose from my slumber. I walked into her room. Much to my astonishment, there is carpet in her room! The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The flowers were blooming. It was there for the whole world to see! Gosh bess 'er! (That is borrowed from Luke's prayers.) I have no idea where all of that "stuff" went. I know that the investigators will discover it before the children are returned. After the court approves, they will come back home and another social tragedy will have been diverted. You know, until the next time.

The One (or Two) that Got Away!?!?!?!

Last week (or a few weeks ago, I'm not sure because time runs together on me now), John went bow hunting and he called me and told me he had just shot a buck. He looked and looked and looked and never found the deer. He had the Supt and a few others out helping him look for it. He had given up, thought he might have missed it.
Then, he went out again and found the carcus of the deer with nothing left but the antlers and bones. I asked how do you know it was the one you shot. Of course, he recognized the rack and then there was the whole retrieval of his arrow from the rotting corpse. I told him you know, circle of life, yadda yadda and so on and so on. At least the animals of God's kingdom had a feast.
Again yesterday, he calls me and says, "I just shot a big deer that made the other one look like a dwarf. It has the biggest rack I have ever seen." I was at my parents with the kids and we all got a little excited. This was fairly early in the day so surely, this time he would find the deer right. I called back a few hours later; he was looking for it. He had someone helping him. Then again, a few more hours passed; still looking. I called a third time; he had given up the search. I was a little irritated by this. "Why did you give up? It isn't dark yet." He told me it did no good to keep walking and walking over the same terrain with no signs whatsoever.
"Are you sure that you shot it?" He assured me he knows he shot it. "Did you have your glasses on?" No, but he had his contacts in. "Did you have new contacts or those old ones that I painted the little bucks on as a cruel joke?" We must have lost cell signal at this point; I'm sure he wouldn't have hung up on me.
I got home and he seemed a bit distraught. I looked at him and said, "This is twice that you have used this story. So, next time you call me and tell me you just shot a deer with a BIG OL' RACK, there best be either a freezer full of meat when I get home or a dead Hooter's waitress strapped to the hood of your truck."

Feeling the Heat!!!

Normally on a Friday night we would be at a football game. This week, thankfully, our game was on Thursday night. The kids were wound up because their grandparents were here. John was preparing to go bow hunting the next morning. I started a load of laundry because their was an essential garment that John needed to go hunting.

I went to the linen closet to get a sheet for the airbed that John's parents were sleeping on. It smelled of burning plastic in the closet where by no coincidence the breaker box is located. I called John without drawing attention to it (because it goes without saying that Moriah will panic). John got his dad and they both agreed that it needed attention but they both thought it would be okay until morning. We all went to bed.

About 11:30, Moriah comes in huffing and puffing. Not the huffing and puffing that comes after running a marathon (like I would know what that was like)but the huff and puff of a bad dream or something serious was coming down. "Moriah, What's wrong?" "Mom, we don't have electricity."

I woke John up. "I'll check it in the morning, go to bed." HUH?!?!? I thought to myself. I was in a stupor from being awakened; but I just lay there stewing over his lack of concern as the aroma of burning plastic fills the house and now, we HAVE NO ELECTRICITY. I'm fairly sure that visions of big white-tailed bucks danced in his head. I got up to take care of some business that otherwise would have waited until morning.

I walked by the linen closet on my way to the room where you take care of such business. The smell of burning plastic had become somewhat stronger. I again woke John up. "I really wish you would reconsider waiting until morning to check out the breaker box thing."

Reluctantly, he drug himself out of bed and came into the hallway. Oh, by the way, we still have no electricity. He stumbles through the dark and feels of the breaker box. It was hot. Uh...is anyone else surprised by this revelation? Now, he stumbles through the house to get his flashlight. Then, we have to locate a flat-head screwdriver. He takes the cover off of the breaker box and lo and behold, there was evidence of a fire that once burned. I asked John if he now wanted me to wake his dad (sidebar: his dad is an electrician). So, I did.

Mr. Fultz was asleep in Moriah's room. It was in it's normal condition. He managed to make the trek to the hallway without tripping and breaking any toes or such. John and his dad managed to rewire some breakers and get electricity for the rest of the night. During the ordeal, John's mom announced, "Something is on fire!" "No, it isn't!" "Yes, it is. I smell plastic burning." Thanks, Mom!!!! Moriah is huffing and puffing uncontrollably again. It's an understandable response if you recall her light switch catching on fire a few years back.

John crawled up in the attic and checked for the nice autumn glow that would usually accompany fire in the walls. It was determined that all was safe. We all went back to bed and slept soundly all night. Oh yeah, right!

Saturday morning, it was determined that the washer, dryer, and freezer were all on the same breaker. They were all running at the same time. This is not an uncommon occurrence. But, while I was doing laundry, someone had started a load of dishes in the dishwasher. I told John that I was fairly certain that this was a message from God that I wasn't supposed to do housework anymore.

I don't think he bought it!

Josh????

Luke is in AWANA Puggles here. It is really cute. There are 3 little 2-3 year olds and they learn about light, clouds, trees, flowers, and different things that God made. They ask the children, "Who made the flowers?" The little boys don't usually answer but the little girl always says "God." If we ask Luke at home, "Who made the trees?" his normal anwer is "I dunno" with that sweet little smile.
This morning, Luke and I were watching Dora the Explorer and she was in outer space. She asks "Do you see the turtle constellation?" Luke's patented answer, "No!" "Do you see the chicken constellation?" "No!"
Luke points at the TV and says "Moon, Momma!"
I answered, "Yes Luke! Who made the Moon and Stars?" He looks at me with that sweet smile and proudly proclaims, "Josh!"
"Yes Luke! God made the moon and stars."
Moments pass. "Luke, who is Josh?"
"I dunno."

We won't have it!!!!

Moriah's new school has the Pinnacle Internet Viewer where parents can track their child's progress or lack there of and be sent notices about their child's grades, etc. I was so excited about this that I put to receive reports daily. After 2 weeks, I decided that weekly reports were sufficient; unless her grades fall below a certain point.
Yesterday, we reached that point. I received a report about her Social Studies grade. So, when she came home from school, "So, Dear, how was your day?" and all of the daily rituals we go through. I asked, "How's your grade in Social Studies?" She seemed a bit taken back. "It's fine," was her response. "Well, Babe, I got a notice from the school about your grade in Social Studies."

"WHAT?".........."This won't happen again!"............as she storms to her room and shuts the door.

A few moments later............"Did they email you? That is so wrong!"

Later on in the afternoon, "When I get to school tomorrow, I'm going to have a talk with them about this emailing you my grades. It needs to stop. I will tell you my grades. They don't need to be telling you my business. This will not happen again!"

How funny!!!! I love Pinnacle.

The Importance of the letter R in Cactus

I love Luke!!!! He is so cute. We went out to eat after church yesterday. We went to a Mexican restaurant in Morrilton. They were decorated with southwest paintings and such. In several of the paintings were Cacti. You know, the tall ones like you see in the desert. Luke is under the impression they resemble green forks.

We were sitting in the restaurant enjoying our lunch with the rest of the Sunday after-church crowd. Luke screams out, "Momma, Fok! Momma, Fok!" Oh my!!!! We tried to go right along with him, "Yes Luke! It looks like a fork!" To which he laughed and screamed louder. "FOK! FOK! FOK! FOK!" We gave up and started answering with "Cactus! Luke it is a cactus!" He kept this up by yelling it 3 or 4 more times before we managed to get out of the restaurant. Far, far away from anything that resembled a cactus or a fork!

Aw, Mom!

Well, it happened to Moriah today. That thing that all kids fear. Momma came to school and embarrassed her royally.

Perryville Elementary School has a finely tuned system of picking up kids in front of the school. It works well. It is similar to what they attempted to do at Atlanta Primary but most people actually participate fully without venturing away from the process.

The thing is you have to get there early or your child has to wait and Moriah doesn't like to wait; especially when it is 100 degrees outside (and who can blame her).

So, Luke and I start the "leaving the house" process at 2:45. The school is about 4 blocks away. We get there at 2:50. I let the motor run for about 5 minutes to cool the vehicle down. Then, so as to not waste the precious gasoline. I turn the motor off; not realizing that the lights are on.

I sat there in the parking lot of the elementary school for 10 minutes with all of the windows down. There was a cool breeze (as cool as it can be when it is 100 degrees)blowing. It was bearable. I am abou 5th in the endless line of waiting parents. At 3:10 the bell rings, I turn and look at Luke and said "Let's fire this puppy up so it will be cool when Sissy gets in!" Luke, of course, says "NO!"

I reached and turned the key. Wha, wha, wha. "Uh-uh!" Luke or I one said that. I'm not sure which. I ran up, leaving Luke in the car (windows were all down remember), to the "head usher" (for lack of a better term)and said "I have a problem." She looked scared, I guess I probably did too.

I'm new in this town. I just want to fit in. I don't want to draw attention to myself. I just want to live life and blend. So, hear I am, #5 in line at Moriah's new school, in this huge "bus" called the Sequoia............not blending!!!!

I told the lady what I had done. She said, "No, you didn't. This does not happen." I asked if there was somebody that could jump start me. She asked if I could go to the office and tell them to call someone to help me. What??!!!! That will take like forever (is what I was thinking). But, I ran up the steps to the office. Again, Luke is still in the Sequoia (uh, windows still down).

I explained my situation as rapidly as I could. I knew pandomonium was going to break out when that 4th child got in the car and I was not moving. Not to mention, I knew Luke would be screaming when I got back. The secretary turns to the principal, Mr. Magee (whom I have never met but I recognized him because John told me he reminded him of Kirby McCord--if you don't know Kirby too bad...he's a nice guy). They called the maintenance guy.

When I got back to the vehicle, Luke was NOT crying (yea!). One less thing I have to deal with. They ladies loading the children went to get Moriah and put her in the car. She inquired as to what was happening. When I explained it to her, she said, "If you EVER do this again, I will ride the bus from now on." Gee....thanks Moriah....I knew you would understand Mom is having a difficult day.

Tony the nice maintenance man shows up with his power booster. I had jumper cables but this actually worked out better because we got out sooner. While Tony is hooking up his box, Mr. Magee says, "Tony, this is the band director's wife." Now, remember, I had never met Mr. Magee. Tony looks at me grins and rolls his eyes.

After apologizes a gazillion times and then thanking them another gazillion. Mr. Magee stopped the massive flow of traffic to let me back out and go on my merry way. Moriah wouldn't look at me all the way home. The nerve......embarrassing her at her new school, and on the first week too.

You Can't Take It With You....Thank God!

As we have completed our move but still not totally settled, I spoke with my brother on the phone yesterday about the entire moving experience. My brother and his family moved in October, my parents in May, and our little family unit in June.

I was sharing with my brother about a rebellious Moriah moment that my daughter had. She announced to her dad, "Mom hates it here too!"

I joined in, "No I don't!"

"You said you didn't want to move."

"I didn't want to move. But, I like living here."

We haven't really been here long enough to like or dislike it. It is more like being 'content' with where God has placed you. The unknown is a little scary and I don't particularly care for the changing churchs. The part where you can start over, make more friends, keep in touch with old ones, redecorate (!!!!) is nice and fun!!!

When we moved the first time as a family back in 4 B.L. (before Luke), once was not enough. We moved 2 more times in the next 2 years. ARGGGHHH!!!!
This last move was the hardest. I was still working. The kids spent most of the summer with grandparents (thus, the onset of one really bad case of separation anxiety). John was starting a new job. It was very trying. I don't know how many times we were asked if our relationship was going to survive the move.

I hate packing. After 8 two and 1/2 hour one way trips to Perryville to find a house, we started packing. Not to mention, we made 4 trips moving, one in a U-Haul and 3 with an open trailer. It rained 3 of the 4 days we moved (Guess which day was sunny! You got it....the U-Haul day!) In hindsight, I should have started packing when John got the second interview. But, I hate it, hate it, hate it and I was being stubborn (Know where the kids get it!). Plus, I had to do most of the packing for my parents move as well.

As my brother and I were sharing in the pain and anguish of moving. I said, "I hate it! I don't mind moving. I hate packing." At this point, I blurted out, "I wouldn't even want to move to Heaven if I had to pack to go!" My brother laughed. "You can't take it with you? Thank God!!!!" This is a statement people should not say to me. You can't take it with you!? I just feeling extremely blessed that we get to leave it all here!

How Did That Happen?

Today, as we were driving to Nashville to pick up my last paycheck (YEA!), we came upon a pretty bad wreck in Hot Springs. There were at least 2 and maybe 3 ambulances, 2 firetrucks, and a whole host of police cars. Moriah seemed a bit taken by all of it. She is very sensitive to danger and people being injured and such. We are not gauckers. We didn't look hard but were unable to see the actual cars that were involved in the accident. When we were past the wreck, from the backseat Moriah inquires, "Now, how did all of those ambulances and firetrucks run into each other?" I looked in the rearview mirror at the mess behind me (the wreck!) and could say nothing except "My lord, Moriah?????"

What is Branson Breath?

Today, as I sit here with Luke giving me "raspberries" and trying to lift my shirt up and saying "Boo-bay," we are watching Spongebob. Patrick and Spongebob thought that people are scared of them because they are so ugly. It turns out that it was Spongebob's Sunday that was giving them "Rancid Breath." This announcement brings from my daughter, "Mom, what is Branson Breath?"

Grosser than Gross!!!!

Last week we were at the Arkansas Bandmasters Association convention. It is always lots of fun. We have some good friends that we always hang out with at the convention. They have 2 little girls, ages 7 and 2 1/2. Moriah and the 7 year old get along really well.
I'm sure that the baby and Luke will get along well when Luke is a little older. They have some of the same bad habits. For instance, they both put everything they come in contact with in their mouths.
Anna Claire is a beautiful little girl. She looks just like a little doll. Over a period of 3 days these are a few things that she put in her mouth: a cheeto she found under the bed in our room (that belonged to neither family), water from the pool, and beads. Her parents had told us that she likes to chew on baby wipes and they had caught her with as many as 5 totally in her mouth.
On Thursday evening, we went to dinner at Olive Garden. That was a different experience but the grossest thing happened when we got back to the hotel. John was changing Luke's diaper and it required several wipes. Of course, it was chaotic with the 2 other girls running around the room playing. Not to mention, Luke flopping around like a fish out of water and screaming because he can't be still while you are changing him. AnnaClaire reached over and grabbed a wipe from the soiled diaper and stuck it in her mouth. John said in the midst of the madness, "Uh! Anna Claire has a dirty wipe in her mouth!" Her mother began to struggle to get it out. When the mom got it away from the child, Anna Claire stood there with her little blond pigtails, a big ol' grin on her face, and a brown substance in the corner of her mouth. John started whining, "I think she ate a turd!"
I was on the bed laughing so hard I almost wet myself. In fact, I may have just a little. When we were leaving Olive Garden, the waitress gave us some chocolate mints. As Anna Claire was walking into our hotel room I noticed that she had chocolate on her mouth. Apparently, John did not!

Move Over Milk, Farting Does a Body Good

When we were coming home from our trek through Northwest Arkansas, we stopped at Sutherland's Home Center in Ft. Smith. Luke got a sand and water table for his birthday and we found no play sand in Nashville, AR. We knew that we wouldn't need it until we came home and we didn't want to take the chance of Waldron or Mena Wal-Mart not having it (Ft. Smith Wal-Mart didn't have any either). Luke was asleep and we gave Moriah the option of going in the store or we would wait while John went in and checked for sand. She opted to stay in the car.
Half the fun of having a baby in the family is being able to blame the origin of the foul odors that arise. We have tried to instill this in Moriah but she just hasn't gotten the hang of it yet.
We were sitting there in the parking lot and I began to smell something mal-odorous (that is a FultzN'It originale word). I was pretty sure the origin of the scent was from somewhere other than the inside of our vehicle (maybe not though).
"What is that smell? Did you do that?" I said to Moriah. The proper and expected response was 'No it wasn't me! It was Luke!' But instead.............
"Actually, Nickelodeon says that a healthy body does that." Moriah proudly proclaimed.
It took a moment for this to soak in to my thickness. Then, it hit me. "Does what? Fart?"
I questioned.
"Yes!" She said laughing.
John got in (with sand I might add). I was telling him the story. He turned and looked at Mo and asked her, "Moriah, are you healthy?"
"Yes! (Teeheehee)" She answered.
We may not have many amenities here on earth; but, at least we have our health!

The One That Got Away..oh, wait...I guess not!

Yesterday, we were awakened at 7:30am by the sound of a LOUD boom only to discover that there was no electricity. John's mom called Carroll Electric. Of course, it was automated and she got the recording stating that they had received several calls regarding this matter. For those of you who know nothing about living in the country, when the electric goes it isn't just a time without lights. The well pump is electric so no showers or toilets flushing. The gas stove has an electric pilot light so no breakfast. John's mother called several times because the natives were getting restless not to mention smelly. Finally, she called the sheriff's department to see if a wreck or something had knocked the power out. The sheriff's department said that pretty much the entire area was out of electricity and they had no idea why.
John and his mom were out on the porch and saw a squirrel sitting in a tree eating something bright red. John was looking for the camera and he told his dad. His dad told him to get the gun because the squirrels had been in his garden eating his tomatoes. After all, there was no electricity, we WERE in the country.............hey! I know! Let's shoot something!!!!
Needless to say, John and his dad both grabbed a gun (John with a rifle and his dad with a pistol) and went out in front of the house and commenced firing. I think they each fired about 4 times. The first shot fired the squirrel ran a little further up the tree; but, he dropped his luscious appetizer. The 2nd shot, missed again, and a little further up the tree. It reminded me of watching an episode of Walker, Texas Ranger. John and his dad being the bad guys firing at Walker (the squirrel). You know, those guys can never hit Walker. But, shoot away they did. Bang! Bang! Bang!
After the last shot, a minute or so past. Lo and behold, down came the squirrel. Dead weight from the top of the tree all the way to the ground. Bless his heart! He had a heart attack and died. Isn't that a mess? Wouldn't you hate wasting all of that energy dodging bullets only to have a heart attack and plunge to the ground?
The great white hunters went to retrieve the animal and found the munchie that it was enjoying. It was a peach. They also found another dead squirrel that was laying directly under the transformer. It had entrance and exit wounds. It had been electrocuted.
A while later the Carroll Electric truck pulled up. The men went to converse with them. They said that everyone's electric was back on except for ours and they had no idea what had caused the black-out. The men showed them the fried squirrel. Wouldn't you know? Apparently, this little rodent had blown out the power for the whole countryside. This could have all been avoided if John and his dad had been out shooting pesky squirrels at 7:30 in the morning. They probably wouldn't have shot the squirrel but it would have more than likely had a heart attack before it caused the whole mountain to go dark!

What is a Scontion?

The Mineral Springs fight song is On Wisconsin! Not so much a fight song; but, it's what the band plays when the Hornets score. John always sings, "On Wisconsin, on Wisconsin, on Wisconsin, On!," over and over and over all the way through the song. Of course, you live with insanity and it starts to rub off. I sing it. I thought Moriah did too! (Sad little sidenote: Some of the band kids thought that those were the actual words....so sheltered and naive; yet, so worldly!)
Last night, Moriah was doing some of her "cheerleading kicks." She said, "I need to practice dancing. What is that song that the band plays that always makes the cheerleaders start doing their dance?"
"I don't know." I answered.
She said, "Yeah you do. You know, On Your Scontion."

Spaghetti Arms

Year before last, John and I purchased a "Slam Dunk" basketball game at Wal-Mart. It had regularly been around 80 bucks. We paid $15 for it during an after Christmas clearance sale. Our original intention was to put it on eBay and sell it for $80 bucks or so. We got it home and Moriah wanted to keep it. Time passed and it was still in the box and every once in a while Moriah would say, "Will you put my basketball game together?" We never did. Then, came Luke and it just kept getting pushed to the side. Not literally of course because it was kind of heavy.

On Moriah's 9th birthday she had a sleepover and I started putting it together. I thought it would be fun for the girls to play while they were here. Although it wasn't complicated to assemble, it started taking up too much time because much like everything else, I had procrastinated to the last minute. So, again, it got pushed to the side. This time literally.

We had originally planned to put it in our family room which is a fairly large room. But, with the recent influx of small, medium, AND large baby toys, we thought our screened in back porch would be a better choice. That is, after all, Moriah's playroom....And will be Luke's as soon as he figures out how to open the door by himself.

John finished the assembly process last night. And, if you don't know exactly what it is I'm talking about. It is like an arcade basketball game similar to the ones you see at Chuck E. Cheese. John and Moriah played it for a bit. I went and played for a while. John played a 1 minute game and scored 50 points. Not to be outdone (so I thought), I tried to beat his score. I got 48. I played again, 49 points. John comes back out to play. We start playing against each other. He won; then, I won one. So, we had to because of the laws of marriage had to play best 2 out of 3. But, this was not just throwing basketballs at a goal this was cut throat Bill Lambehr elbowing, pulling of hair, gnashing of teeth action. I won the 3rd game fair and square, well, except for the hair pulling and elbowing. John calls for 3 out of 5. No can do.

We stopped playing for maybe an hour. I went back out to the porch after Moriah went to bed at 9:30. She heard the action and got up. She and I played a few games. It was fun. Then, she decided to call it a night....Again! I kept playing because I still hadn't beat that 50 points in 1 minute score. John came and stood right behind me because he knows that it gets on my nerves for someone to stand over my shoulder like that. And, if he didn't know that, he will after he reads this. We started playing again. We played a few games of 2 minutes or so. Then, Mr. Smartypants thinks it a good idea to set the time at 4 minutes. Ohmigosh! Everything was okay for the first 2 minutes. Then, the fatigue started setting in. We already had the elbows, hair, and teeth thing going but we both started getting spaghetti arms. If you have ever seen someone whose legs are cramped up try to go ahead and finish that marathon, this is kinda what our arms looked and felt like. We were laughing at each other; crying from the pain and agony!
Moriah again gets out of bed and comes out to the porch. She screamed at us, "ENOUGH BASKETBALL! We ALL need to go to bed! Stop that game!" But, we couldn't!!!!!!!!!!!! There was one minute left. She was sighing with disbelief, I mean really, it was her toy!

When the buzzer rang, and time was no more. We walked back in the house and fell on the couch. Our arms dragging the floor. It would have been impossible to try to pick anything up. It was lots of fun and I can't believe we went to that extreme. I woke up this morning with my arms still sore and couldn't remember what I had done. Then, I saw it on the porch. Sitting there staring at me as if to say..."You never got that 50 points, Loser!" I have not caved to it's calling. I don't even remember what the score was last night. But, if I lost, I'm sure John can fill you in on that later!!!!