Fourteen

I know it's not Throwback Thursday, but today Bubba turns 14.  He still has the same sweet face, dark eyes, and quick smile.  He likes to remind me, almost hourly, that he's taller than me, even when I wear heels. 

He also likes to remind me that he will be starting high school in a few months.  I can't even...

He desperately needs a haircut.  He's always singing.  He's always having fun.  Last night, he helped us with the 4th grade math homework. 

He wants a double decker pizza from Papa Murphy's for supper tonight.  Well, of course, he is fourteen.

He's finding his way in this new place and is doing it with grace and perseverance.

Happy birthday, Bubba.  We couldn't love you more.

Lesson learned: Don't get a momma started.

Last August, during the first week of school, Bubba brought home an assignment for his parents.  His English teacher asked us to write a paper describing our student in a million words or less.

Since this assignment fell into the writing/English category, Honey was happy to turn it over to me.  This morning I was going through some computer files and found my essay.

Bubba

I think it might take a million words to describe Bubba, but since you asked the mommas to describe their children, you are probably prepared for long answers.

 

Bubba is the oldest of three children.  He was the only child in a world full of adults for the first three and a half years of his life.  Sometimes he still prefers adults.  He has many typical “oldest child” characteristics.  He is responsible, ordered, and likes to be prepared.  He is a rule follower, and will almost always live up to expectations if he knows what is expected of him.  In first grade at meet the teacher night, he sat down at his desk and said, “Mom, read me the schedule.”  He memorized it and informed me every day after school if they did Spelling during Math time.  Along the way he has loosened up a bit, but he still has a deep need to know what to expect and when to expect it.

Because he tries really hard to follow all the rules, his most stressful school years have been when he was in classes that followed the “punish the masses for the wrongs of one or two” line of thinking.

Bubba has a great personality.  He is witty and likes to make mundane things fun.  He usually knows when it is time to get down to business and when it’s OK to goof off.  You will know he feels secure in his relationship with you as a teacher and the behavior boundaries you have established when he feels comfortable enough to tease and interact with you.

 

Bubba is bright and self-confident.  Most new things come quickly and easily for him, and he gets frustrated when new concepts are hard and require a bit more work.  English and spelling are probably his weakest subjects.

He likes music and loves sports.  He is often humming or singing, and if you ask him about hitting home runs this summer, he might talk your ear off.  He’s a loving big brother (in a middle school boy kind of way); I don’t hesitate to leave him in charge of his younger sisters even though one of them has some special medical needs. 

I trust him completely.  He’s never given me a reason to doubt him.  He can be a knucklehead, but he doesn’t do it on purpose.  His heart is always in the right place.

There you go, a bit over 400 words to give you a peek into the person that is Bubba.  I know you will grow to love him almost as much as I do.

The reasons I'm a hot mess...at least this month.

February...wears me out. We have a love/hate relationship. It blows in, parties me up, twists my nerves in a knot, and then leaves me completely empty and most of the time sick.

Bubba's birthday was a couple of days ago. He's 12.

My oldest is twelve! We let him get a F#ceb**k for his birthday. (See what I did there? I disguised how I typed F#ceb**k to keep them from finding out that we let Bubba get a page before he was "officially" old enough. I know, I'm pretty sneaky.)

I'm friends with my son on F#ceb**k. I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around that.

Yep, that cute little Spidey is turning 12. I should put that picture on F#ceb**k.

It was the first time in 7 years that I didn't bake treats to take to school to share with his friends. We're down to 6 years until he goes to college. I got a little weepy just now typing that.

Last year he had a friend party in addition to the traditional family party. This year we just did the family thing.

Last year, for the friend party, I made my SIL's Milky Way Cake. It sounds exactly like what it is...a cake made of several Milky Way candy bars.

Bubba's birthday falls right before Valentine's Day. On top of all the birthday celebrating there is Valentine celebrating. Friday the girls had their Valentine parties at school. This was the first year Bubba hasn't had a Valentine party in 7 years.

I missed Bubba's last Vday party last year.

Here's a picture of the girls the morning of their Vday party last year. It was 6 days before Brooke's T1D diagnosis. Can you tell which one is Brooke?

Last year Brooke wanted a special dress to wear to her Vday party. My mom agreed to make it, so they shopped together for fabric and a pattern. Once Mom got the dress ready for a fitting, Brooke tried it on and Mom needed to take it in...a lot. It was waaay too big.

She was so excited to wear her special dress. I stopped by her party first and she was loving every minute of it, eating every treat she could get her hands on. I left her party and went next door to Mary Tutu's.

When I left Mary Tutu's party to go to Bubba's, Brooke stopped me in the hall and told me she had a headache and her stomach hurt. I thought she was mad that I wasn't checking them out of school after the party. I told her she was fine and to get happy. She couldn't even hold it together for a class picture.

I headed to Bubba's party. As I was walking in the door of his classroom, the phone was ringing. It was the nurse. Brooke was throwing up in her office.

She hasn't worn her special dress since.

We thought it was a bug. In fact, Bubba was nauseous a few days later so I kept him home from school thinking it was the same bug. It wasn't.

Five days after the Vday parties, Brooke had another episode at church during Bible Class. She couldn't pull it together enough to perform her puppet show.

The next morning, February 17, was her diagnosis day.

Here she is with Will. He was the nurse that admitted her and stayed with us during those first hours. He was wonderful!

We were lucky. The IV fluids and beginning her insulin treatment did wonders for our little starving, dehydrated, weak, out-of-sorts Brooke. She was poked, and poked, and poked some more. It took 3 days to clean out the keytones. She never complained.

Eventually, she gained 11 lbs. Eventually, the spark came back to her eyes. Eventually, she gained some fat so we would have places to inject her insulin. Eventually, she was able to return to her mostly normal life.

This February is already better than last February. It kinda' snowed this morning. If I don't think about it too much, I can enjoy less baking for school parties as Bubba gets older. I made it through this year's Vday parties. I wasn't sure I would be able to hold it together. I just jumped in and stayed busy enough I didn't have time to reflect on last year's parties.

Life is good February, take it easy on us this year.

It was like living, breathing Facebook

I loved every minute of Jr. High and High School.

I did.

Of course I experienced my share of heartbreaks, tears, and teenage angst, but as a whole, when I look back on those years of my life, I have nothing but fond memories. I had great friends, loving adult mentors, and carefree fun.

I was involved in many things as a student, but I only did a couple of things well...choir was one of them. I was the biggest choir nerd you ever did see. To this day, I get goose bumps when I see a well timed jazz hand. And I loved the scene in High School Musical when Ryan and Sharpay argued over using the jazz square in their routine.

I know every word to every Christmas carol and can sing the melody or the harmony depending on which part I feel is weaker at the moment.

See? I'm a nerd.

We didn't think we were nerds though. We thought we were the. coolest. singers. ever. There were about 10 of us that went through choir together from 7th grade through senior year. The hours we spent doing concerts, musicals, and show choir events, rehearsing, riding the bus, taking early/late lunches, TOGETHER, helped nurture friendships and bonds that got us through the tough teen years and beyond.

In my mind we were all still young and skinny, attending Sweet 16 parties and gearing up to go caroling at yet another bank.

When Bubba came home from 6th grade registration and announced that he'd signed up to take Choir as his elective, all of those thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Wait a minute.

My son is old enough to be in CHOIR. Real choir?

That can't be right?!

Maybe...we aren't as young as I thought we were.

When we sat down in the auditorium to watch his first middle school choir concert, I was not prepared for the flood of memories and nostalgia that hit me.

Then I volunteered at his first All Region Choir competition.

It was all just so surreal. Wasn't I just here to audition? Wasn't Bubba just 3 years old singing "Jesus Loves Me" in Bible class?

He made All Region Choir...as a 6th grader...that's a pretty big deal...there were only three 6th grade boys that made it. He got to wear a tux for the first time.

This is the only picture I got. He sent it to me from his phone. Then afterwards, he ran to change back into his regular clothes before we could even find him.

At his first concert, I watched him and realized that someone was gonna have to get ahold of that boy and teach him to plant his feet, stand still, and quit fidgeting while he's singing, and to look at the director during the song.

It's taken me a couple of weeks to justify it all in my brain. All of those wonderful memories I have from Jr. High and High School? It's Bubba's turn.

He spent all day Saturday rehearsing with the All Region Choir and the guest director. Then we went to the concert Saturday evening. They sounded so grown up and nothing like you might imagine when you hear the phrase "Middle School Boys Choir". They were good. And Bubba didn't fidget...and he looked at the director the entire time they were singing.

As it turns out, one of my old choir friends grew up and became a director, and he was the guest director for Bubba's choir. (What?! You're in charge now?! Weren't we just having rubber band wars in the choir room?) It was fun seeing him again and catching up with what's happening in his life.

Then my friend told me that he felt bad because he got on to Bubba at the beginning of the day because he wasn't looking at him during the songs. I grinned and told him somebody needed to show him how it's done.

If somebody had to do it, I'm glad it was my friend.

Is this what it means to come full circle?

Because I'm the mom of a middle school boy

The last time my parents were out of town, Gran hired my son to water her flowers. While the girls and I were bringing in the mail and UPS deliveries, Bubba went to the backyard. I went to tell him we were ready to go, and this is what I found.

He said, "Mom, take my picture and text it to Grampy."

I couldn't resist. I sent it to Uncle Bubba, too. That's the type of thing he would really get a kick out of. Uncle Bubba texted back, "I hope they don't die!"

He's so getting fired.

The Circle of Life

We did it. We drove to one of our favorite places on Earth, left our baby there, and came home. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even a little jealous that he's staying 2 weeks and we're not.

The camp director Honey and I worked for used to say, "Campers grow up and become counselors. Counselors grow up, get married, and become teachers. And teachers beget more campers." Yep, that's pretty much how it worked for us.

I didn't even cry. Well, not about leaving Bubba.

He loaded the car this morning. This is the luggage he had.


He kinda' had a lot. I think it's because he let me help him pack...and I'm a girl...and girls tend to over pack.

This is what time we left our house this morning.

We left at 6:24. That means that I'd been up for a while before that.

And yes, that's XM radio. Our new to us suburban has XM and we got a free 3 month trial. My mother-in-law told us to be sure and remember to call and cancel it after 3 months. Honey said not to worry, he wouldn't forget. He's good at remembering that kind of stuff.

I've decided that XM radio is like having cable. So many channels and nothing to listen to. We spent the majority of the 10 hours in the car looking for...or, listening for... a good channel.

We sat in the car for 5 hours, arrived at camp in time for worship, and then ate lunch, and then sat in the car for 5 more hours. I'm tired of sitting, so tired that I'm standing at the breakfast bar while I type.

Honey and I had fun visiting and catching up with our people at camp. During worship, I was overcome with emotion. Not because I was leaving Bubba, but because it felt so good to be there... with those people. It was good.

And I wish we could have stayed.

Bubba is in a small cabin, only 7 or 8 campers. He's related to 2 of them and met the son of a friend while standing in line to register, so he was already half way to having a cabin full of new friends by the time we said goodbye. He didn't hug me, but he did ask me in which bag we packed his basketball shorts. See? He still needs me. It was actually better than a hug.

This is what time we made it home.

This is how many miles we drove today.
And I still found the energy to post. How's that for dedication to NaBloPoMo July?

'cause I can...

just some bragging...

Bubba did ace his Reading TAKS. Perfect score.

He missed one question on his Math TAKS. We'll cut him some slack :)

He got a 3 out of 4 on his writing composition, and missed 3 questions on the writing Q&A.

He was commended in all areas...whatever that means. He's such a smartie pants.

He thinks this is a "get out of doing anything involving brain activity pass" for the summer.

He is sadly mistaken :)

Bubba and his besties

*Please excuse the sentence fragments and dangling prepositions in this post.

**And also, this is really not relevant to anyone but me and maybe Kimberly. It's mainly for me . . . so I don't forget.

I don't think boys have "besties" or "BFFs". When he reads this, Bubba will probably just roll his eyes and say, "How about just friend, Mom."

Anyway . . . we've spoken a bit about how big Bubba is for his age. He's 10. And not even 10 1/2 . . . just 10. He's finishing up 4th grade. He's only about 5 inches shorter than me. I'm every bit of 5'6". . . maybe a tiny bit over. We wear the same size shirts. Sometimes, if I get the ladies' cut, my shirts are too small for him. His feet have long since outgrown mine . . . and I don't have a small foot. Just this weekend, we bought him some water shoes and had to buy a men's size 10.

As big as he is, his heart is bigger. He's that gentle giant. He's got the most tender spirit. He's calm . . . he just likes to hang. He doesn't usually get rowdy. And somehow he has the ability to empathize. Not just pity . . . empathize. He gets it most of the time. There are times when I think we have a 20 year old locked inside a 10 year old's body.

Bubba has this one buddy that he loves to hang out with. There are actually 3 of them, but we're just getting to know the other boy and I don't have any pictures of them together.

I love watching him spend time with his buddies. Mainly because it's a sight to see. T, who is pictured here, is almost completely the opposite of Bubba. Obviously, he's different physically, but T brings out a side of Bubba that we don't often see. The 4th grade side. And I love it.

They play and act silly and even get crazy. Just like you're supposed to when you're 10.

We don't have field day at our school, we have Buddy Day. The idea is to pair up with a buddy and go around playing games against each other. At Buddy Day, Bubba, T, and the other T all walked around together and played games together.

One of the games was getting on either side of a large exercise ball and pushing against each other to see which side could push the other further backwards. Kinda like the opposite of tug o war.

The two Ts paired up on one side of the ball and Bubba was on the other. It was funny to watch the Ts double team him. He won that one, but the Ts easily beat him in any event that involved foot races.

They worked together to play tug o war against some 5th graders and won. I'm sure the 5th graders weren't thrilled at being beaten by the 4th graders.

I took this one a couple of weeks ago while we were on the 4th grade field trip. This picture makes me smile because the boys got a kick out of the fact that T could have a 6 or 7 inch advantage and still be shorter than Bubba. I loved hearing their laughs and seeing their grins.

Double Digits!

Bubba is 10 today. And it snowed. Snow on Bubba's birthday in our town is almost a bigger deal than hitting the double digits. Because we don't live in Canada. We live in Texas. We wear flip flops in January and carry umbrellas to block the sun, not the rain. But it's been a crazy winter, and we've gotten more than our fair share of snow. If we have many more of these cloudy, near freezing, snowy days, we may quit saying y'all and start saying eh?

It's hard to believe I've been a mom 10 years. Well, 10 years and 9 months. I totally count those long months of pregnancy, because those weeks of hormones and stretch marks and ridiculous cravings and monthly doctor exams marked the beginning of the end of life without kids.

They weren't my favorite months. I didn't have that beautiful glow that some have. My glow had a gray-ish, green tint to it. And my hair wasn't luxurious and my nails weren't strong. It wasn't fun.

But then he was born, and I forgot all the yucky stuff. Almost.

I'm so thankful that raising kids is more fun than being pregnant with them.

Bubba is such a good kid. He's thoughtful and respectful and responsible...most of the time.

Almost all of the time.

He's such a great big brother. He helps me with the girls. Still. He's a great shoe tier, hair brusher, and lunch packer.

He's got such a great sense of humor. He keeps us laughing...at him, at his teachers, at ourselves...

I can't remember life before him and I can't imagine life without him. And I hope he has a wonderful day!

More Nine-isms

Tuesday morning I was fixing the girls' breakfast while Bubba was eating his. I told the girls to hurry and sit down because I still had to put on my makeup while they ate. Bubba said, "Mom, turn around and let me see."

"See what?"

"Nah, you don't need to wear make up, Mom."

Awww, that kid, he gets extra dessert tonight.


After school that day, I was going through his folder when I found this:

Dear Mommy,

I'm having fun at school today. Sorry but

we went outside today. We did a lot of work

today! But I'll come home alive.

Love,

Bubba

I guess he was thinking about the fact that the wind has been blowing and the dirt is everywhere. And I hate them being outside when it's like that because they always come home suffering from itchy, watery eyes and a cough to wake the dead. I am glad he made it home alive though.

You already know that Bubba turned 9 last week. We celebrated with the usual fanfare at school and family gatherings.

My kids' birthday celebrations stress me out. I'm not sure why. But, by the end of The Birthday Week, my neck and shoulders are in knots, I've got an enormous headache, and I'm utterly exhausted. Thank goodness that even though we have 3 kids, we only have 2 birthday weeks. Be encouraged friends, the Scriptures are true, God only gives you what he knows you can bear.

At first, 9 didn't seem much different than 8. He's still that same little man-child. He wants to be oh-so-grown-up, but deep down he still doesn't mind watching those "little kid" shows with his sisters. They are better than the news. He absolutely knows he's ready for the responsibility of a cell phone, but he can't remember to brush his teeth before bed. I still love to smell his hair right after he's taken a shower, but MY GOODNESS! that child has got some man-stink going on in those shoes!

I know we're in the midst of some awkward years that can break a mamma's heart and wear her patience to the very last thread. And I know we've only just begun. Nine is only half-way to 18. And does it really end at 18? Because I'm starting to think that whole "support yourself when you're 18" thing is just a myth.

But 9 has been pretty good the last couple of days. There have been rays of wisdom gained shining through the clouds of will he ever get this?

Earlier this week we started eating dinner together around the dinning room table. We've always done it a little bit here and there. But this week, as part of my year of being intentional, I've committed to it again. No more feed the kids at the bar and let the adults eat when they want in front of the TV.

While we were sitting there waiting and waiting and waiting for what seemed like hours for the girls to finish eating, Bubba had a light bulb moment. He said, "Mom, I know why we quit eating at the table. We got tired of waiting on the girls." Oh, honey, you're so right!

Thursday it was "When I Grow Up" dress up day at The Preschool. Actually, it was 2 weeks ago when we were all at home running fever, but several kids missed it, so we had a make up day this Thursday. As the girls prissed around in their "ballerina teacher" and "cheerleader" costumes, Bubba got a little jealous that he doesn't have such fun when he goes to school. He said, "I wish I was in pre-k again."

I replied, "You would really want to go through kindergarten, first, and second grade again?"

He said, "No, not really. It's more like "you don't know what you've got until it's gone."

Oh.

Nine is fine...

Today is Bubba's birthday. This morning, I got up early so I could have cinnamon rolls hot out of the oven as soon as he emerged from his room. The girls were still asleep so the house was peaceful and quiet. Honey even left for work a little late just so he could eat breakfast with the birthday boy.



I stole the first 9 year old hug and swallowed the lump in my throat as so many memories came rushing back all at once.

He was excited to smell the cinnamon rolls in the oven, and as we all waited for them to finish baking, he wanted to know what time he was born. I pulled out his baby book to check the official records because Iwanted to get it right. As we flipped through the pages, Honey and I started telling him stories about the first few years of his life.



We told him that he was 9 lbs 2 oz when he was born and that there was only one other baby in the nursery that afternoon. She was a sweet little 5 lb. bundle and when they rolled their bassinetts side by side, he looked like the Goliath to her David.

We remembered all the people that came to see him in the hospital and right after we got home.

We remembered that he never slept during the day, but he was a great sleeper at night.

We told him that when he was about 4 months old we taught him to growl "What's uuuuuuup?" just like they used to do on that commercial.

We talked about his first birthday partyand how he thought we were crazy to let him just dig in to the cake.

We showed him the sweet picture at his second birthday party when I had to help his fingers make the number 2.

We looked at projects from Tuesday school and the bracket he filled out for March Madness in 2005.

It was one of the best birthday mornings I can remember. I'm filing that memory away for safe keeping.

Boys will always be boys

Very often you find Honey and I having "intense conversations" concerning my biggest pet peeve when it comes to the male species. I haven't named it yet, but I'm sure someone has and it's just out there waiting for me to Google it. Here's an example of what I'm talking about:


Honey says to me, "Where did you put that envelope corporate office sent me?"

I think in my head, "You mean the big, yellow, not-easily-missed envelope that you receive at least once a week?"

I say out loud in my most paitent voice ever, "Ummm...I think it's on the table..."

I mutter under my breath, "just like every. single. piece. of mail we've ever received in the year we've lived in this house."

After about 2 seconds of scanning the table from his vantage point 8 ft away, he says, "I don't see it."

I leave whatever very important stuff I'm doing and walk to the table and pick up the first big yellow envelope I see on the top of the stack and say, "Is this the one?"

I'm immediately rewarded with, "Oh! I didn't see it laying there! Thanks, honey! What would I do without you?!"

As if my frustration with the fact that he "can't" see the huge, yellow, legal sized envelope that his company sends 80% of their correspondence in can be distracted by a quick compliment or two.

And so it goes with the last of the ice cream in the freezer, the fingernail clippers on my nightstand, and various and assundry other items throughout our 10 year marriage. In fact, if given the scenario above, I've taken to adding to my ever so patient replies, "Ummm...I think it's on the table...you might have to pick up a few things and look under them."

And really, that seems to do the trick. Because Honey has gotten better over the years about finding stuff on his own. The problem is that we have a son. And he's not quite so experienced in the looking for stuff category. In fact, when he has a problem locating something, I usually send one of his 4 year old sisters in to help him search. She almost always finds it within the first 20 seconds. And she doesn't get nearly as frustrated with this male tendency as I do.

So the other day, waaay back during Bubba's last week of school, I was ready to begin one of my new habits for Summer 2008. I got up early, while the kids and Uncle Bubba were still sleeping, and walked. I was comfortable doing this because Uncle Bubba, contrary to popular belief, is an adult so it wasn't like I was leaving the kids home alone. I knew I wouldn't be back before Bubba woke up, so I left a note for him explaining what was going on and what to do to begin getting ready for school. I left it in a place I was sure he would find it: on the arm of the couch, under the TV remote control and a yellow walkie talkie.

I knew the walkie talkie would signal him that I was walking, because we use these often as I never leave our cul-de-sac and I can always see the house, but they can always talk to me if they need to.

Anyways, I was just about done walking, and I knew Bubba had been up for 10 min or so, when I saw him come out of the house. He saw me right away and jogged to meet me. He asked, "Are you having a good walk?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Can I have cereal for breakfast?"

"Yes, didn't you get my note?"

"No, what note?"

"The one that was right underneath the walkie talkie you're holding."

"No, I just turned on Sports Center and realized that I was hungry, so I came out to find you to see what I can eat for breakfast."

"Read the note. It's on the couch, under the TV remote and the walkie talkie. It explains it all in there."

When I got back inside, he was sitting at the bar eating his cereal watching Sports Center just like I told him he could in the note. He just laughed and said, "I didn't see the note."

I just want to take a minute here to tell my future daughter-in-law that I tried. I'm doing my best, but I've got the male genes working against me. So. . .good luck with that.

That's my Boy!

Tonight on the way home from church, Bubba was talking about a play date that he has tomorrow after school. Honey responded with, "Hey, did you get permission?"

"Yeah, I asked mom."

Teasing him, Honey replied, "Well, you didn't ask me."

Bubba said, "Well, Mom's the Head Honcho. You're the Head Nacho."

So I don't forget

Yesterday was one of those days. I spent the entire day feeling lavishly blessed. I know that every day I am blessed, but I love it when I'm aware enough to feel it right when it's happening. And believe it or not, this is my 200th post! I love that I will be using it to celebrate my blessings from God!

Yesterday was the first day of preschool. The girls were preparing to start the young 4's class and I was preparing to teach the old 4's. It wasn't the first morning that I'd had to get myself and 3 kids ready and make 4 lunches, but IT WAS MY FIRST DAY TO TEACH THIS YEAR! and I wanted to keep the morning stress to a minimum. So, Monday evening, I made all the lunches sans the sandwiches (because I hate night-before-sandwiches) and Bubba noticed what I was doing. He was curious, and so as I was getting it all ready I explained it all and what item went with which person.

So yesterday morning, while I was prying the girls out of bed, Bubba got up, got dressed all the way down to his shoes, and went straight to the kitchen and put everyone's lunches together! All by himself, without being asked. All I had to do was make the sandwiches. While I was doing this, he disappeared into the pantry for a while. He finally emerged and asked where I kept all the flavor packets that I like to add to bottled water. He thought I'd like "a treat on my first day of school". I just about lost it right there! You know it doesn't take much to make me cry, (greeting card and credit card commercials, opening a new aisle at the grocery store) and so it took all I had to hold it together as I hugged him and thanked him for all of his help and thoughtfulness. I was on cloud 9 as I drove to preschool a few minutes later.

My first day went really smooth and I love my little class. The best part about Pre-K is that we usually don't have to deal with tears (except from the mommas). So I was enjoying the day until we got to chapel and I saw the girls with their class looking all grown up. When you spend 24/7 with the little angels, you just don't notice how big they're getting. During our restroom breaks, I could peak into their classroom and it hit me that I only have 2 more years with them at home! TWO more years! What will I do when there is complete silence in the backseat while I'm running errands. I will probably still ask the empty car if everyone is buckled up just out of habit. Will I be lonely? How will this first step of "letting go" feel?

I know, I KNOW! I'm usually the one that is the first to admit that I'll throw a party when all of my kids are in school. I'm not sure where this wave of nostalgia came from, but it lasted ALL DAY! When the girls came to my classroom after school, I couldn't get them to hug me long enough. It took almost 8 years to really feel it, but I love having my kids at home! Life will be so different when I'm all alone in the house from 8:00 to 3:00. And on top of all of that, my secret pal gave me a Starbucks gift card in honor of the first day of school. That alone is worthy of a good tear up.

So then we came home from getting the van looked at (I'm having problems with the driver's side window rolling up. It's really putting a damper on my drive through Sonic/Starbucks runs.) And being the prepared person that I am, I had supper all cooked in the crock-pot. Right before we sat down to eat, one of our former youth group members came by. She needed to drop off some paperwork for Honey as she needed a referral letter. We had a great time catching up on her life. Years ago, she started coming to youth group with a friend. She was truly a seeker. She was searching for meaning and hope in her life and I like to think she found a place in the youth group. We watched her grow into a sweet young Christian woman. She was so open to God and his direction in her life.

I worried that after graduation she would go off to the local state college and get lost in the shuffle. She doesn't come from a Chrisitan family and didn't have those fundamentals to fall back on. For a period of time, she did get lost in the shuffle, but the seeker in her never forgot what she learned in youth group. Eventually she found a college group that she loves. She has lots of friends there and is reaching out to her lost friends knowing that they are seeking the same thing she was. Now she has grown from seeker to a mentor. She is firm in her faith and is involved in sharing it with anyone who will listen. It was so encouraging and refreshing to see so much growth in her! And it all started with her best high school friend inviting her to youth group. What a blessing to be able to see a bit of God's fruit from our labors in youth ministry.

So, I'm still flying high from my day of blessings . . . to say the least. It makes the sink full of dishes I need to face in a few minutes look like a piece of cake! Have a great Wednesday!

And not a moment too soon!

Last summer we got the kids new bikes. The girls got those big-wheel type Barbie bikes, and Bubba got a big 2 wheeler. I had every intention of teaching him how to ride it last summer. I even promised to post a picture when he was riding on his own. But alas, it sat in the garage unused aside from a few futile attempts at learning to ride without training wheels.

So, this summer, Honey was home so much, I laid down the law. "By the end of the summer, Bubba will be riding that bicycle, and you're going to teach him!" So waaaay back in May and June, Honey and Bubba had a few riding lessons. But it was quickly becoming apparent that I wanted this accomplished much more than Honey or Bubba. So the lessons stopped.

Then this morning, I was doing laundry and Honey was mowing. Bubba went in, got dressed, and put on his shoes. I asked him what he was doing. He replied with a big smile and a look of sheer determination, "I am going to learn to ride my bike today." And about 15 minutes later, this is what I witnessed.


Now, before you tell me that we need to raise the seat, let me assure you, I know we need to raise the seat. But being the non-risk taker that Bubba is, he feels way more secure knowing that at any given point he can touch the ground flat footed with his bum securely on the seat.

I am just so excited for him! I was hoping that he would learn earlier in the summer so that he could enjoy riding up and down the double cul-de-sac that is our street. With school starting in just 2 days, he really pushed his end of summer deadline. But it just goes to show you that when momma lays down the law, things get done!

If the shoe fits. . .

Being a good friend and all, I wanted to share with you the glory of my freshly cleaned, cut, buffed, scraped, filed, moisturized, painted, and decorated tootsies. Because I know that if we were girlfriends in real life, as opposed to the internet, you would want to rejoice in a good pedicure with me. That's what girlfriends do.

Just ignore the fuzziness and out-of-focus-ness of the snapshot, and admire the hand painted flowers on each of my big toes. Proof that I can get a little bit crazy when the kids are visiting Grandma.

Seeing these pictures, made me remember a story about Bubba. My feet have grown in the last few years. Pretty much since I've had children. Before my first pregnancy, I was a real size 8 but usually squeezed into a 7 1/2, unless it was a sandal. You just can't sneak in a half-size smaller when you wear sandals.

Some time after Bubba was born I realized that I was a true size 8 1/2. I embraced motherhood and put aside my pride and actually started buying shoes that were the right size. The birth of the girls came and went and I never gave much thought to my shoe size.

Back in May, around my 32nd birthday, Bubba had a function at school. I decided to shower, shave, and actually wash my hair for the occasion. I wore some fashionable clothes and put on make-up. I even wore some of my favorite sandals that I'd worn on our honeymoon almost 9 years earlier. I was pretty sure everyone up at school wondered when Bubba got a cute new babysitter.

Anyways, I was pretty proud of the way I cleaned up and sported the look until it was time to pick Bubba up from school. When he got in the car, he said, "Mom, why can't you just buy shoes that fit instead of ones that make your foot hang over the edge?"

You can imagine my horror as I received this bit of fashion advice from my SEVEN YEAR OLD. BOY. When we got home, I inspected the fit of my beloved sandals and a few of my other pairs. I realized, with much sadness, that Bubba was right. My old sandals didn't fit any more.

Now, girlfriends, shoes aren't like clothes. They don't shrink when you wash them, and you can't blame the dry cleaners when your favorite slacks are suddenly a little snug. When your shoes are too small, it's because your feet have grown. So I pledged to buy some new sandals. My objective was to try to find something that didn't make my foot hang over the edge, or embarass my son.

As I was shopping, I learned that my true shoe size is probably now a size 9. When I swallowed my pride and admitted to Honey that his delicate flower of a bride wore a size 9 shoe, his response was, "Well, you know what they say about girls that have big feet. . ."

Go ahead and give it to me now...

my Mother of the Year Award, that is. Bubba lost his third tooth last Thursday evening. He let me pull it right before we left for baseball practice. He went to practice biting a tissue in his mouth to stop the bleeding, but he played like a champ!

Friday morning, he woke up early, found me on the computer...and pulled out his prized tooth still in the zip-loc we'd put it in. The tooth fairy had forgotten to come! His tooth was still right there under his pillow where he left it. He was disappointed but decided to make the best of it and take the tooth to school to show his friends.

But bloggy friends, I haven't told you everything...here's my deepest, darkest secret: this is the second time the tooth fairy has forgotten to visit our house. I mean he's only lost three teeth, and it's not like they are falling out two and three at a time, but there were quite a few millennium babies, so I understand that she is probably busy and just plain tired from dealing with the rash of tooth loosing that is bound to be going on right now.

The last time, I convinced him that I was jealous that the tooth fairy was getting all of his teeth, so she left it for me and I gave him a dollar for it and that seemed to be the end of it.

This time, he confided in me his theory about why the tooth fairy didn't visit for the second time. You see, he remembers quite clearly which side of his mouth the tooth came from last time there was a missed visit and apparently this latest tooth came from the same side. He thinks that there is a curse on that particular side of his mouth and the tooth fairy doesn't want teeth from that side. I could only agree that it was a good theory and said that she sure did miss out on a clean, healthy tooth.

So, Friday evening I made sure that the tooth fairy knew that she'd fallen down on the job the previous night and that she'd better at least send a note explaining herself the next time she failed to show up on the appropriate night. I'm tired of making excuses for her.

Happy "burp"day!

Yeah, my mom bought the bag with that saying. It is definitely 1st grade sense of humor!

Bubba turned 7 this weekend. Seven is a weird age. Bubba is stuck between childhood and the teenage years. He doesn't play with "toys" really anymore, but he is too young to cruise around in his muscle car with the stereo too loud. Those of you with kids this age know what I'm talking about. They don't know what they want for Christmas or birthday, and even if they do, it is so childish, you know their interest in it will last , oh, say, 5 minutes. Or, it is so grown up or expensive, you just can't buy it for your 1st grader and call yourself a good parent. Well, anyway, that's how we've felt this year at Christmas and again this past weekend at his birthday.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked him what kind of birthday he wanted. He really didn't know. All of the "themes" seemed too, well, juvenile. Finally I suggested that he go with the all encompassing sports theme. He embraced the idea, and I began researching how to make a basketball cake. A couple of days later, he told me that he wanted "that fruit cake that you make" instead of a traditional b-day cake. (We call it Spoon Cake, it is also known as Punch Bowl Cake.) I made sure that he understood that it wouldn't look like any of the sports equipment we use, much less a basketball. He said that was OK. "It still goes with the theme, Mom. You have to be healthy to play basketball." It was then that I realized that he assumed that fruit meant healthy. Good concept, bad application. For the record: Spoon Cake, is not a healthy alternative to traditional birthday cake. But, I didn't have the heart to tell him that.


So, this weekend, we ate Spoon Cake, pretended to be healthier, and celebrated that awkward 7th birthday in grand fashion. A good time was had by all.