the party's over

It's time to stop celebrating a month of little weight gain.

I'm finding that celebrating is like stepping on the caloric accelerator.

I'm pretty sure there will be no celebrating next time.

Pooh.

so help me, God...

My son has trouble saying his 'r's. When he talks, he sounds like he's from Boston. Caah, instead of car. Beh-thday instead of birthday. He's getting better. He's practicing. He hears it himself, and is keenly aware of the words he's saying wrong.

Which is why it MAKES ME SO MAD when people repeat what he says right in his earshot, mimicking the way he's said it. They think it's cute. It is cute. He sounds adorable. But he's five and a half now, and he doesn't think it's cute or adorable.

He came home from preschool before Christmas and wanted me to help him say his daddy's name correctly. He had been trying to tell his teacher his dad's name - which has one 'r' smack in the middle. She couldn't understand him. He said it over and over to her, and finally the Para helped him out. She understood. He was so frustrated.

Because it's a single letter impediment, and because it's such a common one, he wouldn't qualify for aid until he's much older. So I looked online to see if there were any exercises we could practice at home. I learned that an R impediment is one of the trickiest because there are so many variants. Ar, Er, Ir, Or, Ur, Ra, Re, Ri, Ro, Ru....etc, each one requiring a completely different muscle placement.

I found some great tips on what to practice, and we've been working with him. There are several words that he couldn't say correctly before that he's completely nailing now. Which makes him feel really proud. It makes me feel really proud, too.

So help me God if you should mimic him and I hear you. And so help you Jesus if your child makes fun of him and I hear it. Nothing brings out Mama Bear quicker.

I'm not opposed to spanking.

Good riddance, Mr. Microwave

A few years ago my microwave died. It was a quick and painless death. I mourned its loss for about 3 minutes after removing it from my counter top.

And I looked around. At space. Extra, empty space.

I am a huge fan of extra empty space.

We thought about replacing it right away, but in the days after it conked out, I hadn't really missed it. So we waited. And are waiting still. The only reason I would even want a microwave these days would be for popcorn. But microwave popcorn isn't good for you....you know, with the carcinogens in the bags? So when I need popcorn (which isn't that often) I send my husband to the store. For kettle and white cheddar. It suits me just fine.

And do you know how much more delicious left-overs taste when you reheat them in the oven or on the stove top? SO MUCH MORE DELICIOUS! It takes MAYBE 5-10 minutes to heat them through. Which is about the time it takes me to wash my dishes. Or vacuum the floor. I have the opportunity to practice patience while I clean to pass the time!

I would highly recommend life with out a microwave.

It will make you a better person.

Or something.

and then,

I made bars once the caramel rolls were gone.

To celebrate a month's worth of little weight gain.

It's called logic.

Naturally.

Yesterday

I made caramel rolls.

And ate six of them for dinner.

Then I fed some to my children for dinner. (With bananas. On the side.)

They were really r e a l l y good.

Too good.

Now they're gone.

I'm not making more.

So here's the thing...

It either happened or it didn't.

Jesus was either a raving lunatic or He was fully God and fully man.

I remember in college having my faith COMPLETELY rocked. Completely. Where all the things I used to believe, no longer made sense. They seemed illogical.

My professor spoke about religion and how long ago - and even now - people need/ed to make sense of life and the world. So they created wild and fantastic stories. And those stories grew and evolved and become even more magical and wonderful. Too wonderful, it seemed.

People have weak minds. They need to cling to ideas that bring them comfort in the night. Grasping at anything to help when trials and tribulations abound. Imaginary. Pretend.

My mind couldn't pick up the broken remnants of my religion and put them back together.

And I was scared. What if I died? Then nothing? What if it had all been true, and I died in a state of disbelief?

Crap.

I had no idea what to do with myself. I tried and tried to reason things out. Nothing made sense anymore. I went to a book store and bought The Case for Christ. I read it. But it didn't restore my mind. Or my faith.

I prayed. And I prayed and I prayed. What surprised me was during that period of mental turmoil, I never felt alone. I know that sounds cliche. But it's true. It was this feeling of peace in my body, that I couldn't reach my head. I took my doubts to the Lord.

"Here's the thing, God. It doesn't make sense. I have all these questions. I can't reason them out. I don't get it. Help me get it."

Slowly. Very slowly, the pieces started coming back together. The more time I spent reading my bible, the more it all makes sense. The more I realize that God is big enough to handle my doubts. He alone.

It was a powerful realization. He isn't God because I believe in Him. He isn't not God because someone doesn't believe. He just is. No one can deny the fact that a man named Jesus was born into this world 2000 some years ago. One can't deny His existence. History is full of information about Him. He either was who He said He was, or He wasn't.

My believing in Him doesn't make Him who He is. But, my believing in Him makes me who I am. A flawed, weak, selfish sinner. Who He loves anyway. Doubts and all.

Baby Boy No. 3

I had an ultrasound on Monday. My husband joined me for the appointment. The first question the Ultrasound Lady asked us was if we wanted to find out if baby was a boy or a girl. I may have been a little overly enthusiastic when telling her that, yes, indeed we wanted to know.

And right away, as clear as day, we found out we're having another boy. Three boys. I'm the mother of three boys. We're really excited. Really excited. My girl is pleased because not only does she not have to share a room, her brother number 1 has to share his room with TWO others. The boys room. My boy is excited because now the boys REALLY outnumber the girls. My baby has no idea what's going on. He'll be in for a rude awakening just before his second birthday.

Fun times ahead!

14 reasons why I married the best man on earth

1. Several of the past nights, he's gotten home after the kids are already in bed sleeping. So this morning he woke them up early and got them breakfast at Burger King and took them for a morning drive before work/school.

2. When I first started staying home with baby number 2, we completely underestimated how much it would cost us. We gobbled right through our savings. Instead of me going back to work, he got a second job. He would teach during the week, and put in 24 hour weekends in a metal manufacturing place. There were a hundred days in a row (literally) where he wouldn't get a single day off. He never complained. And once, when he overheard me telling someone how hard it was on me (!!!!) that HE was working so much, he didn't even give me the stink eye.

3. He actually plays with our kids.

4. He hardly ever gets to do anything just for himself. And he doesn't whine about it.

5. He squishes bugs (even the big ones) with his bare hand.

6. He is smart.

7. He can make things. Like, seriously, nice things.

8. He repairs our cars.

9. When he forms a political opinion, it's because he's informed, he's researched it himself, not just listened to some stupid radio or tv talking head. He is able to see all the sides. He knows his stuff. (I do not know my stuff...and sometimes he can talk me in a circle. I like that.)

10. He will talk with me for hours at night. And when I talk about stupid things, he still listens.

11. Sometimes he brings me home chile rellenos for no good reason.

12. He is superhuman strong. I've seen him lift a refrigerator. By himself.

13. He's a good guy.

14. He believes.

Kerri and Kara

The first year we were married we lived back home. The place where we grew up. Went to high school. Met.

There are certain aspects of our first married year that are remembered differently by each of us. Those aspects are named baseball and hunting. I remember a zillion hours of baseball - both coached and played. And a thrillion hours of hunting. He remembers that there was some baseball and some hunting.

Irregardless, there was a good bit of time my new husband was occupied doing his thing. Fortunately for me, we were married right around the same time as two other couples. Dear couples. One couple is related to us. That is to say, the husband component of that couple is the brother of my husband component. The other couple had a husband similarly involved in his own things......

This left three new wives with plenty of time on our hands. I'm so thankful for those ladies. I can't even tell you. Sometimes we would all get together as couples to play games and eat burgers from the grill. But more often than not, when our husbands were out and about, we ladies would be out walking. Or painting the kitchen of the only home owned amongst us. Or wallpapering. Or tearing down wallpaper. And repainting. Etc. We held jewelry parties. Pampered Chef parties. Mary Kay parties.

We were busy gals.

It's since been a decade plus. The house we painted saw the birth of a baby. Its family outgrew it years ago. We've all moved a few times. All of us have children. Life looks a lot different today than it did all those years ago. Even though we only see each other a few times a year at most, I love those ladies and count them as dear friends. Their friendship was a blessing to me in those first years.

Every new wife should have such friends.