Song and Dance

Seth's version of I Wanna Be Washed, sung from the top of his lungs while in the tub:

Round One:

I wanna be washed in the blood of the Lamb,

I need a cleansing from the mountain.....

Round Two:

I don't wanna be washed in the blood of the Lamb,

I need a cleansing from the fountain....

Round Three:

I wanna be washed in the blood of the Lamb,

I don't need a cleansing from the fountain.....

I really wish I had this one on video. He was so earnest but just couldn't seem to get it right.

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Hannah just called me into the bedroom. It's exactly 10:58 p.m. and she should be sleeping, but she is pondering the fact that tomorrow is Sunday and the Sunday School That Won't Be (referring to my recent Let It Go post). She has already tried once this week to manipulate me into letting her go with this terrible threat:

"Mom, what if dad decides to let me go to Sunday School anyway?"

She had me pretty scared.

She just now called me in to say:

"Mom, I don't think you realize it, but we learn about the Bible in Sunday School!"

Wow! Really? I replied:

"Hannah, I don't think you realize it, but we learn about the Bible upstairs, too. You'll have plenty of opportunity to learn about the Bible tomorrow."

You know, I really dislike it when people use sarcasm as their main language. But I must admit, there is a time and a place for it, and unfortunately those times and places are becoming more frequent for me as I get older.

This was a necessary sarcasm. Tomorrow will be interesting.

Stinkin' "Ridiklus"

I have tried to ban the word "stinkin'" from my house. When you hear your four-year-old son repeating you by saying, "that stinkin' ______", whatever the object may be that stinks at the time, it's a wake-up call to how crude it sounds coming from a child.

I haven't been entirely successful.

Today, Seth called something stinkin', although I can't recall the object of his ire. Not once, but twice. After I thought I heard him say it the second time, I asked him, "Seth, did you really say that word?"

To which he replied:

"Yeah, I know mom, it's just ridiklus."

I have nothing left to say. Some things are just meant to laugh about.

Did You Know?

Did you know that a dragonfly can fly up to 30 miles per hour?

Did you know that a mosquito can fly 1.5 miles per hour?

These were things my dear daughter informed me of tonight. Her dad looked it up for her on the internet when she asked him these questions. I must say that I'm delighted with her inquisitive nature.

Did you know that my dear son would rather stand in the corner for 45 minutes than stop talking?

Did you know that my children really need hearing aids? Or syringed ears because of wax impaction?

Uh, huh. I've discovered these things this week. Today especially. The corner and my children became friends. Because of their hearing deficit. It has been a total wake-up call to see how little my kids really do listen and how often I find myself repeating things. Really, I am thankful that Rebecca enlightened me. Now I am paying total attention and my children have begun boot camp. The corner seems to be the most effective tool right now (besides ear twisting). My dear son severely dislikes it but will not do what he is supposed to do to get out. All he has to do is stay quiet for at least 30 seconds. Not much, I say. My daughter has to be quiet longer since she's older. He spends his time saying:

"Mom, I've got tears!"

"Mom, I'm coughing!"

"Mom, I am stopping talking!"

"Mom, I need you!"

Over and over and over. Seriously. I had to let him out just before church (because missing church really isn't an option for me) or he'd still be in the corner, I'm sure. The longest he kept quiet was 15 seconds, maximum, and I was counting. Hoping. Praying. But I couldn't let him out sooner because he really needs to learn. And my resolve has returned.

He went to bed without his bedtime story. We had a little chat about tomorrow.

Did you know that you require a Master's degree in child psychology to parent? I didn't. Obviously.

Let It Go

I've decided to adopt a slogan for my life. In keeping with the post I recently wrote on Forgiveness, I really have some gained some new liberty, and it's primarily because I have maintained a constant thought: Let it go. It has worked on a couple of occasions since last weekend in situations where I normally ended up in a "tizzy". I told myself to just let it go.

And so this is my new slogan; my ever-present thought. Let it go.

Today my kids' Sunday School teacher had a chat with me about my kids' behaviour. Not just Hannah's. Not just Seth's. Both. Being typically easygoing and quite lenient, I knew how bad it must be for her to talk to me about it. She said they were "the worst kids in the class" and have been for about the last four weeks, and were particularly bad today. By "worst kids" she meant that they didn't listen. They just ignored her. They did what they wanted.

Not good.

Now, the old me would come home, ponder and stew, and then berate myself incessantly for my failure as a mother. But I'm determined that's not going to happen. After discussing this with the kids in the car on the way home from church, hubby and I decided some changes needed to be made mostly at home and mostly by me. I fully confess that I've been far too lenient and not consistent enough. Obviously. I mean kids don't just act that way without it being trained into them. I've been too much into the "ignoring the bad behaviour" because I've simply been worn out and have put off dealing with it. This is something I know all honest mothers can relate to. We've also decided that Sunday School next week is not an option and they will spend it with mom and dad. Sunday School is, after all, a privilege, not a right. Then we'll go from there and see if they're improving.

And the new me is just going to let it go. I absolutely refuse to beat myself up over it. I'm just going to work on changing it.

Hubby decided tonight to postpone the rest of our renovations until after June 15. That means I have half of my cranberry walls painted and half of my bronze walls painted. That means that I have a mess. That means that my house looks stupid and no one is allowed here until the fall. (Just kidding).

I can't blame his reasoning at all. He took this week off to originally lay laminate. Then I added to it by painting, taking much of his time away laying laminate. He still has a little bit of finishing work to do with the flooring, which he'll complete in the next few days. The problem comes in because he doesn't want me to paint any more until all of the baseboards and crown moulding are completed, because trying to silicone on the newly painted wall creates more work for him, makes it more messy, causing more "touch up" work in the end. He can't finish the baseboards until after June 15 because he's got to get the taxes done by that deadline, and he's got a truck falling apart (I guess brake pads touching metal warrants falling apart, right?) which really isn't even safe to drive right now.

The old me wants to cry. And resist.

The new me is going to let it go.

I am resolved.

Mars/Venus??

I'll not bore anyone with all the details of this last week, except to say that there is no way the painting will be done by Monday. I'm only half done and wearing out. So is my mother. Dave will have the laminate done everywhere but the bedrooms, but because of constant interruptions he will not be able to get it done in the bedrooms by Monday. Except for Dave's comment that the second paint color looked like "baby's diarrhea diaper" (it's really a bronze color), we haven't killed each other yet. At least there hasn't been any more hysterics.

I have a question for anyone who cares to answer. I am confused about the male species. I know about the whole Mars/Venus thing but I simply cannot understand some things about men and wonder if perhaps this is just confined to my husband. He is, after all, unique.

On Wednesday my husband offered to purchase and put up crown moulding. Very, very nice of him indeed (and one of the things that has put him behind). He said there was some on sale at Burron's Lumber for 49 cents/foot. I was thrilled. He insisted I come to look at it even though I told him anything white would be a wonderful finisher. When we got there, he discovered a nicer style for 89 cents/foot. It was much nicer, yes, but I told him I was content with the 49 cent style to save cost. He asked me again if I preferred the 89 cent style and I said that yes, of course I did, so he said that little bit extra wasn't that much. I then found a different style for 69 cents/foot on sale that I liked just as much, so we ended up getting that one.

Let's do the math: Initial choice: .49 @ 230 feet = $112.70. Dave's recommendation: .89 @ 230 feet = $204.70. My recommendation: .69 @ 230 feet = $158.70. Total cost saved: $204.70-$158.70=$46.00. I was quite pleased with myself for saving us a few bucks.

Then....

I come home determined to do the dishes that have piled up because my sink has been so dirty with paint. I scrub my sink clean with a scratchy pad (highly recommend) from Dollarama. Works wonderful. Dave comes in and, uh, has a minor conniption because I wasted a perfectly good scratchy pad on my sink that I would have to throw away when all the painting was done when I could have used an SOS pad (that I could have kept).

Excuse me?

I just saved him $46.00 on crown moulding and he is throwing fits over scratchy pads that come five in a package for $1.00 at Dollarama? 20 cents? And yes, I informed him of this cost to which he had no reply.

Can someone enlighten me?

Ten Points of Painting

It's 12:30 a.m. and I should be in bed. I have been pleasantly surprised at how "therapeutic" blogging is and have found that in writing my frustrations I can regain my sense of humour.

We, as in hubs and I, have been stupid. We've been stupid because we have undertaken a home renovation project just two short months after finishing our last one.

"And when ye are tried, ye shall come forth as gold..."

I'm expecting my crown any day.

Hubs surprised me a few months ago by calling me to come to Home Depot because they had some laminate on sale. We bought it.

Point number 1: Hubs decided to buy laminate first, not me.

Because this laminate took up too much space in our already limited-for-space basement, and we were tripping over things, etc., hubs decided to use his May vacation time (this week) to install it.

Point number 2: Hubs decided to use his vacation time, not me.

Because hubs informed me that everything had to be cleared out of the living room, ie., the hutch cleaned out, ornaments put away, etc., I decided it would be a brilliant idea to PAINT, since our house would be in disarray anyway, right?

Bad idea.

Point number 3: I decided to paint at the same time, but hubs agreed that it made sense.

Day 1: (Monday, May 19)

Renos begin. I pick up paint the day before so I can begin first thing Monday morning. I picked out the colors and went to Home Depot to buy it all by myself. This is a big step for me, since I've never done it before. At the recommendation of my dear sister, Laura (spoken with no bitterness), I buy the best paint in the world, Behr paint. At the recommendation of the "lady in the paint department", I coordinate the colors and buy the paint. I asked her if I needed primer, because my dear sister Laura (again, spoken with no bitterness), said I needed it. The paint lady said, "no, I shouldn't need it, because my walls were such a pale color now".

Point number 4: The paint lady said I didn't need primer.

I take the paint home and begin with relish. Hubs labours away on the laminate and ignores me. I paint away the second coat. Hubs continues his work. Before applying the third coat, hubs comes out of hibernation to see how it's coming, and promptly.....well.....has a spaz attack. There are places where the paint is running down the wall! Me, in my haste and excitement, didn't notice it and it started to set. Nice. Hubs takes a paint brush and tries to fix my mistake, resulting in a "textured" wall, which I wasn't trying for. Then he freaks out about how bad the paint is and, despite my pleading, waters it down!

Day 2: (Tuesday, May 20)

Hubs begins the day by sanding down my textured wall. I then applied not one, not two, but four more coats! Yes, a total of seven coats of paint! I thought it would take four (because it was a deep cranberry color), but seven?

Point number 5: Remember, the paint was watered down.

Day 3: (Wednesday, May 21)

Hubs and I spend the day in relative harmony, despite the fact that we kept running into things that needed to be done that were not anticipated. Hubs cut baseboards and sealed the windows. I painted doorways (which were a dark brown), doors, mudded and sanded (first time experience), and emptied my hutch. I sat down for a total of 45 minutes all day. While I was finishing my last coat of white on a doorframe, hubs goes into cardiac arrest. He went to remove the tape on the beautifully done wall and brings out a portion of rubbery paint! He also chips it twice while putting on the baseboard. He goes into his 97th rant about the DUMB paint: "What kind of stupid paint is this! I'm taking it all back to Home Depot! The dumb stuff is rubber! I've never seen dumber paint!......."

It was the "I'm taking the paint back to Home Depot" that sent me over edge. What! What am I going to do? How am I going to match up paint? Will I have to start all over? Is my wall wrecked? How will I fix it now? I only have this week to paint the living room, dining room and hallway, which brought on my attack.

Several hours later.....a tad bit calmer....after I cried buckets thinking my wall was ruined and wondering how to fix a wall that was "over-painted", calling my dear sister, Laura, twice, in hysterics....hubs asks me if I read the paint can. I said, "no, why would I do that?"

Point number 6: Remember, this is the second time I have ever painted, and the first time I ever picked out the paint all by myself.

Point number 7: I thought paint was to be painted with, not read about.

Hubs informs me that this paint needed a primer (refer to point number 4) and needed two hours to dry and four hours between coats, according the label. I waited a minumum of one hour between coats and used no primer. On top of that, I was using watered down paint after the second coat.

The only defense I have is my inexperience. And the fact that during our last project painting Hannah's room, fairly dark colors, I needed no primer and had no problems whatsoever like this. Hubs sarcastically asks me why I didn't read the instructions. I sarcastically asked him why he didn't read the instructions prior to watering down the paint. After all, he's the resident expert. He said the paint was dumb from the beginning when the paint wasn't really the problem. He reminded me that it wasn't his idea to paint.

Point number 8: Never listen to the paint lady.

Point number 9: Never do a second renovation projection two months after the first.

Point number 10: Never let your husband use his vacation to do a project. It's a way to ruin a good vacation.

If tomorrow doesn't improve, I might have to consider finding a lawyer....

Just kidding! Kind of.

Forgiveness

This post is not about the kids. It's about me.

One of the true arts of good writing is the ability to not belabor the point. I am working on this, however, I suspect I will not succeed with this post.

I have never been an extremely confident person. There are a few areas where I am more confident than others, but for the most part I tend to be pretty hard on myself. I do not know where this comes from, really. My parents did not call any of us stupid to my recollection. In fact, I do believe my mom in particular was very good at telling us when she was proud of us and sometimes, to our embarrassment, did the usual "proud parent" routine by bragging about some of our accomplishments. I do not think I enjoy self pity, so in confessing all of this I am not looking for sympathy. I just really feel the need to be totally, brutally honest. When my kids read their mother's "diary" when they're older, I want them to know ME and what I battled, and hopefully, how I won some victories.

Already being quite insecure, I've been on a steady decline since having my babies, and in particular in the last year. I know of several contributing factors to this, most of which I won't go into, but the most obvious, of course, is becoming a parent. Suddenly I have two children on my hands with souls, and I can very profoundly impact where they will spend eternity. This has caused me many sleepless nights because I've let my fear and insecurities prevail.

There are two recent events that have prompted my current state of mind.

The first happened when a very close friend of mine hurt me, albeit unintentionally. Because I valued our friendship, I emailed her and told her, as nice as possible, that she hurt me. She professes a deep belief in God, but does not attend any church. Even with her belief in God, she does not profess to be a Christian. Within ten minutes, she tried calling me. Me, the professed Christian, did not respond. She tried again, two more times. Again, I did not respond. It's times like this that I always self-reflect. I knew she would likely call, and likely very soon. However, I wasn't ready to talk to her. Finally I had the courage to listen to her voice mail. She said, "Darla, I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. Please, please forgive me? I had to call and just hear your voice." She was crying. How do you think that made this Christian feel? To top that off, she emailed me as well apologizing, stating that "if you could see this on paper, it would be wet with tears".

When I finally called her, she was truly broken, and I felt awful. She did not ONE TIME try to make excuses. She told me that I had every right to be hurt. She also told me that she would have tried to call all day until I finally answered.

She taught THIS CHRISTIAN a lesson in humility and true repentance. She taught THIS CHRISTIAN what it means to not make excuses. She taught THIS CHRISTIAN what it means to deal with a situation immediately. And she taught me how much stinking pride I really have.

So tell me how a 40-year-old woman who feels so insecure about so much can have so much PRIDE?

The second happened in church today. Both services. Pastor Dehod preached a message this morning about seeking God and included a letter written by Brother Marty Ballestero. He wrote a letter to "Intercessory Prayer" allegorically. The gist of the letter was that we have forsaken the "old paths" of true, heart-wrenching intercessory prayer because well, we simply don't need to anymore. All of our needs are taken care of and there is no need to pray so hard. This stayed with me all afternoon so that in this evening's service, I was able to finally pray like I should. And that pre-service prayer is what I really needed because God had a message for me tonight that I really don't think I would have been able to receive without having spent that time in prayer. The message was about forgiveness, specifically forgiving your brother.

I was very easily able to forgive my friend. However, I know it was because she very humbly sought it. What I am not so good at is forgiving when forgiveness has not been asked. I've seen this trait in myself for a long time, but I really feel like the message reached a deeper place in my heart tonight. Unforgiveness and peace cannot co-exist. The part of me that wants to make excuses says, "I'm the same way with myself". And that's true. But it can't stay true. I have got to learn to forgive myself so I can learn to forgive others who have not sought forgiveness. And so Jesus can forgive me, because without this prerequisite, I remain unforgiven.

The Crabb Family sings a song called "Letting Go" on their most recent CD. The words are:

Verse

It's the only way I know to make myself whole

Is to fall down on my face from this mess that I have made

Overwhelmed by disgrace, it's such a familiar place

Lord hear me, I need you near me

Chorus

Free my mind, it's tearing me apart

I humbly cry

From the depths of my heart

Conform my will

To what You'd have for me

Take control

I know the only way to freedom is letting go

Bridge

I know only You

Can free me from the voices that surround me

So I'm trusting in Your Word to renew me

Restore me Lord I pray

I know of no other song that is so ME. So where I'm at right now. And I want it to become my prayer.

I know the only way to freedom is letting go.

Conquering

I have been very proud of my daughter lately. She has worked so hard to overcome some things and it's showing.

One of her phobias has been bugs. Anyone who has been around both of my children in the spring time when the bugs come out, particularly ones that fly, know what a treat it is, screaming, freaking out, hysterics, you get the picture. This last week she became fascinated with ladybugs while we were digging up the flowerbed. She has calmed down a lot in general with bugs that don't fly, and as long as she can watch them and they're not crawling on her, she does okay. So, she studied ladybugs. The next day while at grandma's, she found a ladybug in her house. Grandma held the ladybug and eventually talked Hannah into letting it crawl on her. Hannah did. And, because big sister let a bug crawl on her, little brother decided it must not be too bad and let it crawl on him, too. Two for the price of one.

Another phobia she is conquering is allowing water to get on her face. I wish I would have poured water over her head regularly when she was little, but as they say, hindsight is always 20/20. Again this last week, she decided she wanted to try the shower. I've tried this before with her and she just wasn't ready. This time she was. She actually stood under the shower, although still not directly full face, but letting water drop onto her face, and loved it. And now she has become a showerer!

And finally, she is trying again to let her nails grow. Unfortunately, she picked up this bad habit from her mother, who still has not conquered it. She has "quit and started" biting her nails several times, but every time she tries again, I'm really, really proud of her, and I tell her that eventually she'll quit for good if she doesn't give up (hypocrite that I am).

Maybe victory is catchy....

Tributes To Some Special People........

Mother's Day has come and almost gone. It was pleasant for me, with the kids excitingly jumping on the bed this morning with their gifts and cards. Hannah very sweetly wrote, "Mom how could I love you more?" in her card, thinking this up on her own, bringing me to tears. After dad showed him the letters to print, Seth printed his own name in his card, something I had no idea he could do.

My heart is full.

I am always very introspective on Mother's Day. I spend the day reflecting on my shortcomings as a mom, and pause with gratefulness that I've been blessed with two wonderful children - who will likely turn out okay in spite of my shortcomings (something I often forget). Tonight I was also thinking of some very special people in my life who have touched me in some way as a mother. There are many moms that I admire greatly, each for their own unique qualities, namely Sister Dehod, my sister-in-laws Shelley and Donna, Sherri Long, and Nadine Covill, to name a few. But there are a few in particular I want to pay tribute to, because my relationship with them is such as they have influenced me most significantly as a mother.

First of all, how can I say how much I love my sister, Laura? I remember the years she struggled as a young mom with young kids, much as I do now. She was a stay-at-home mom with one vehicle, stuck at home much of the time, something I have not had to go through. She homeschooled her kids, and her influence is probably the biggest reason I have become a strong advocate for homeschooling. I remember thinking at that time, though, that she was pretty hard on her kids. She (and Shannon) were always the strictest parents in the church. Now she has two great teenage daughters, goes through what all parents go through with teenagers, but has come to a point in her life where she trusts God more than ever, and it really shows. She is very involved and connected to her girls and has relaxed more as a parent than I ever thought she could. And that is what I hope for - if I witnessed my older sister able to let go and loosen up, perhaps I can too. Thank you Laura for always listening to me and giving me hope that I, too, can change.

Lorna. Oh how much she means to me! I worked with Lorna for years before I quit to have Hannah. We grew very close as co-workers, but more than just because of work. I grew to admire her so much over the years as I learned about her home, husband, and three girls. I felt like I knew them through her. Lorna has a way of loving passionately, and her family benefitted from that. We truly connected as friends. I saw a mom who had to struggle with very serious health issues with one of her twin girls from the time she was born. I saw how she had to balance a daughter who was frequently hospitalized with two other girls who needed her just as much - but in a different way. I saw how she made each of them feel special, not just the one who was sick all the time. And today I see three very well adjusted girls who love their mom (and dad) and are a very close family. And that is what I hope for, too. A family who remains close to their adult children for all of their life. Thank you Lorna, for your example as a mom who remains connected.

Chantal, whom I love. She has influenced me probably more than anyone. She is one of those women I believe was born to be a mom of a very large family. I have always been in great admiration of her - she always had it together for someone ten years younger than me! Even though I was a mother first, I remember how I valued her opinion even before she had her first baby. She has this calm, confident way about her. She could explain her point of view so convincingly with such a good spirit! She was well researched, so much so that I didn't have to do any if I didn't want to! She is the only one with kids my age, and I'm thankful I have someone who is right where I'm at right now. One day, Lord willing, some of her calm, gentle ways can be transmitted to me. Thank you, Chantal, for your amazing insight, and for always listening to me!

Last but not least, Mindy. She really means the world to me. The mother of two of the finest kids I know. The woman who came through one of the hardest trials of anyone, had two young kids, and felt alone and isolated for years. God has blessed her so much for her faithfulness, and I really, really admire her. Her kids have adjusted so well. She is one of those "mean moms" (her words) who is strict with her kids, but is bearing the fruit of that. She, as well, is ten years younger than me, but I feel is miles ahead of me in wisdom as a parent. She has a confidence in the stands she takes that I wish I had. She is one of the ones I call up the most for parenting advice because she has already been there, but not too terribly long ago. One piece of advice I remember most is, "I'd rather be too strict with my kids than too easy", which I believe to be true. Thank you Mindy, for your maturity and wisdom as a parent, and for listening to me constantly!

I also want to mention my little sister Lana, and my bestest friend ever, Angie. Lana is not a mother, but is truly one of the people who encourages me the most when I need encouraging, and who understands the dynamics of a family like ours. A family who seems to struggle with doubt and confidence. Angie - mother of two wonderful boys but whom I don't get to see enough because of distance, but who makes it known that she believes in me. ME. Who thinks, seriously, that I am wonderful at everything (probably because she doesn't actually SEE me enough) and thinks I'm a wonderful mother! These are two more people whom I love to infinity!

And thanks to my mom. For loving me as any true mother does, unconditionally.

To Kill Or Not To Kill

Well, I'm going to blog away my frustrations.

About my dear son (DS).

10:30 a.m.: DS messes his underwear. And not just "number 1". DS is informed he cannot play on the computer for the rest of the week, since this is the only time he seems to have these..um...little accidents.

11:30 a.m.: While outside cleaning up the flowerbed, DS decides to scatter the dirt pile that is not yet swept up all over the driveway so that his mother can sweep up the whole driveway instead of her little pile. More than once. His mom loves sweeping driveways anyway, and has all the time in the world. Minor incident? On any other day, perhaps, but please refer to 10:30 a.m.

12:00 noon: Grandma calls DS to help her clean something of his up in the living room, and DS replies, "No, I'm gonna kill you grandma!". Yes, kill. Never said it before, and will undergo a hemiglossectomy if it happens again. DS becomes acquainted with the corner while DS's mother reviews in her brain and questions his sister where on earth he heard that from. Still do not know.

1:00 p.m.: DS takes a little nap in his bed. Yes, his bed. Mom has been letting him lie down on her bed for a nap because she couldn't see the harm, but the privilege is revoked today.

4:00 p.m.: DS actually wakes up happy. Mom is suspicious.

5:45 p.m.: After supper, DS's big sister gets a few minutes computer time before church. Mom informed DS's daddy of his earlier accident and his suspended computer privileges. DS doesn't see why he can't sit beside his sister and watch her on the computer. Daddy informs him that he cannot. DS informs daddy that he can. Daddy keeps DS on his lap in the kitchen. DS informs daddy that he'll just take a quick "peek", that he "won't watch, he'll just walk by". Daddy informs DS that he will not peek or walk by. After trying to negotiate for several minutes, DS gives up the fight and goes in his room to read a book.

7:25 p.m.: Church. Yep, one of those services. DS and his sister start giggling within 1.5 minutes of song service (they were separated prior or it would have happened sooner, most likely). Mom threatens both with a trip downstairs to see how padded their backsides are. Thirty seconds pass, maximum. DS tries to tackle his sister, resulting in the attempted removal of his left ear and the resultant shriek. Dear mom grabs him and whispers......sweet nothings.....and he miraculously stops shrieking.

7:26 p.m.: The pastor stops by to shake DS's hand, and DS informs him that "ladybugs don't shake hands!"

8:00 p.m.: DS's mother barely makes it through song service with DS hanging on her neck and kissing her constantly like a puppy dog, he says (he momentarily forgot he was a ladybug). While DS is hugging his mother's neck, just as they are sitting down he decides to kick the back of the pew, almost putting her back out.

8:50 p.m.: Trying to leave church, DS lets out a shriek in the vestibule (because he was tormented, more than once, by some people who should know better but don't), resulting in a tongue-lashing from the resident tongue-lasher.

9:45 p.m.: While finishing his bed time snack, he informs his sister that he is going to "kill her". Yep, those words again.

The hemiglossectomy will be undertaken tomorrow.

Ab-so-lute-ly!

Wow, posts two nights in a row. That's a record.

Well, tonight Hannah asked me one of the inevitable questions that come from children. You know, of the "birds and the bees" type, although not "how did I get in your belly, mom?" As inquisitive as she is, she hasn't asked that directly yet. Fortunately she is also still naive, and I'll let her be as long as possible. That is the true beauty of not allowing the garbage of television (or public school - sorry!!) to infiltrate her mind - her innocence can be protected much longer. Anyway, I digress.

She asked me how I could tell she was a girl when she was born. I knew she just hadn't quite thought this through, so I decided to help her think it through herself. I asked what the main difference between a boy and a girl was. She thought for a moment and said, "their hair"? (Spoken like a true Pentecostal).

I knew we had some work to do.

We eventually arrived at the logical conclusion and the lightbulb went on. I did manage not to chuckle out loud at her initial answer, so it ended with her being perfectly content that she "figured out" the answer.

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Seth has two favourite words right now - actually and absolutely. He uses them correctly, but it always strikes me as hilarious because he uses them so emphatically.

"Seth, would you like cereal for breakfast?" I ask.

"Yes. Um, no. Act-u-a-lly I would like some toast, please." He states precisely.

Or, my favourite.....

"Seth, do you have to go to the bathroom?" I ask.

"Yes, mom, I ab-so-lute-ly do have to go to the bathroom!" Seth replies.

I don't know if this strikes anyone else but me as funny, but to see this four year old speaking these words in all seriousness, correctly, to emphasize his point, is just plain funny.

Annual Pictures

Hannah and Seth recently had their pictures taken by Rachel, my niece. Rachel has developed quite a talent for photography, so for the first time I had her take their annual pictures. Some were taken at the weir and others at the Delta Bessborough. This first one was near the very end of the photo shoot, and at the very end of my patience. They're happy, however.

As time went on, everything was more of a joke than ever to Seth. Obviously.


Hannah was very cooperative. Unfortunately because of this she had less pictures taken. It took at least twice as many poses of Seth to have at least a few that weren't of him goofing around. I love this pose.

One of the rare, contemplative poses of Seth.

In the window at the Bessborough. I was very nervous about this one because the window was very old and seemed very thin. Fortunately, Hannah is not like her brother and could actually sit still.

I insisted on this being done quick. I had visions of broken glass and a huge bill on my hands.

My sweet, uhmm, angel.


My truly beautiful girl.

And so ended our photo shoot. These are just a handful of poses, all different. Rachel has some pretty impressive talent.

And we have some pretty impressive kids. But then I'm biased.