The Fish Tank

Day two of our ice storm and it happened. The boys began to tire of one another. We had created a fort and in my best effort to create peace, I made sure there were three separate spaces for each boy. What I have learned as a parent, however, is that no matter how hard one tries to create fairness with the children, someone always gets upset. That's when the fighting broke out. Jack was picking on his brothers poking at them just enough to annoy each one. When I went to talk to Jack about his behavior I called him a meanie-pants. Yes, this 36-year old mama called her son a name. He was being mean and it was the first thing that came to mind. He looked at me funny and then went on about his business...a little nicer this time around. I eventually apologized to my 8-year old for the name-calling and he forgave me as kids so resiliently do. My words got to me though. I began to think about this blog and how often times, I am a meanie pants.I am constantly talking about how we get it w...

I recently asked a friend to give me some ideas to write about; topics that interest her. She is getting married soon and suggested I talk a little about marriage. I started thinking about what I could say. Scott and I have been together for almost 19 years, married for almost thirteen. There's a lot of potential material. The first thing that came to mind was what works. We talk so often about what doesn't work, I thought I would turn the tables and talk about what has worked. I walked in the door and the house was a mess. I can't remember where I was coming from but I do remember the frustration I felt. The first thought I had was, "Rarely does Scott have to walk into a mess after he's been gone. Why should I?" I came in and went on a rampage asking the kids to clean up and doing my best wifely huffing and puffing expressing my frustration for his lack of cleaning skills. Scott finally pulled me into the bedroom to talk this out. After our talk, I saw thin...

I walked over to one of my childhood best friend's house with my mom. We were headed there to get a barbie I had left behind. We had gotten into a fight about who-knows-what and I needed that barbie. I also needed back-up so my mom fulfilled her mama-bear duties and accompanied me. When we got to her house, she was dancing the barbie in the window kind of taunting me. It's what you do when you are elementary girls in a fight I presume. That visual makes me giggle today. I did get my barbie back and we eventually made up. There were three of us girls who were close in elementary school. We lived next to each other in a neighborhood filled with lots of boys. I remember wondering where I fit with those girls. We were that awkward threesome where someone is always left out somehow. We switched roles on who became the left-out one. Sometimes I was the special one that stuck with one of the other girls leaving the third girl out. And sometimes, my I was the devastated left-out girl a...

The boys and I were driving home after a trip to the store to get supplies for an afternoon of crafts, science, and mess-making. Grady asked a few times if they could have "special lunch" and I gave in. They were behaving so well and, quite frankly, I didn't feel like making lunch. We stopped at Whataburger and I got each of them a cheeseburger and french fries. I thought I was being nice blessing them with a treat since we don't do fast food often but apparently I was wrong. All of a sudden, I hear horrible wailing and crying from the back seat. You see, Wyatt was extremely upset with me because I had lied. I told him earlier he could have a different lunch that I would make at home and instead I betrayed him with a cheeseburger and french fries. Woe is me. I began talking to Wyatt about his heart and how we are appreciative of the things we are given even if we aren't totally happy. After my little pep talk, Jackson told me he had an idea. He explained that he w...

"In every transition in our lives, Satan will give us a spirit of fear." Christine Caine "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9 Jackson was doing his cursive homework at the kitchen counter and I was piddling around cleaning lunch boxes. He got frustrated with the blessed cursive "H." He could not get the loop right and it was driving him mad. I could TOTALLY relate. I, too, struggled with cursive. I remember there was a handwriting competition at my elementary school that I wanted to enter. When I told the teacher who was overseeing the event that I was going to enter she told me I shouldn't; that I would never win because basically, my handwriting was atrocious. Awesome right?!?!? I grew up and became a teacher. I started in kindergarten, no less, where your handwriting needed to be the neatest and easiest to read on the plan...

Recently, I went on a Facebook stalking mission and found my old high school youth pastors. I also found some friends from the good old CLF (Christian Life Fellowship) Youth Group. Seeing these faces brought back a flood of AMAZING memories. At the same time, I began reading, "Home is Where My People Are," by Sophie Hudson. All this talk about home and the memories of a great season in my life in my faith journey got me thinking. I've shared many stories and countless emotions on this blessed blog, but I have never shared my story. My tag line is, "Life is a journey. Let's talk about it." I guess I should start with my story. I grew up in an idyllic neighborhood. There were 12 houses and about 25 kids. We played outside until the street lights came on, rode our bikes to Thrifties crossing a major intersection to get ice cream and candy, and jumped each other's fences between our backyards to play. My family was healthy financially and physically. We we...