almost there

we are about halfway through the yearly holiday crazies at the Calloway house.

halloween.  done.

frank's 6th birthday.  done.

crystal bridges opening cocktail party.  done.

now i can finally eat some halloween candy.  

i admit now that i am having a volume problem.  my sister helped me identify this when she was here last.  i am not a terrible mom.  i am far from the best, but i know i am not the worst.  i try to play with my kids.  i take them places, i talk to them.  i make them bored until they come up with creative solutions to entertain themselves - thus stimulating their imaginations and eventually creating the geniuses that will have to take care of me in my old age.

but right now, i am having a volume problem.  when i have just a 6 year old and we are doing homeschooling and legos and practicing our tennis - i am great.  when i am chillin' with the two year old - building train tracks and counting "moneys" and looking at rocks and changing diapers - i am at my best.  when i am cuddling a sweet 5 month old and nursing him and praying over his sweet head and laying on the floor next to him - i am at total contentment.  But.  when they are all together, i feel that i am always neglecting one or another or my husband, or my home or my responsibilites in the greater world.  i am not a good multi-tasker.  i am later than ever these days.  i am actually, legitimately forgetting to attend things.  i am a terrible volunteer at school.  i cannot physically do and be all the places that i want to be.  it is a volume problem.

so i wonder.  is this the Lord teaching me to prioritize?  once i contacted an old friend on fb.  it was just before Ford was born.  I asked her if it was hard to have 2 boys.  She is also a mother of 2 boys and a nurse.  She said, "You'll be great, don't worry.  You're a nurse, just use those prioritizing skills from nursing and put them into practice in your family. "(or at least it was something like that - i can't remember the exact way she said it and i hate to put quotes around something that I am not certain is correct)

but the issue is that as a nurse, i stunk at prioritizing.  you can ask my friends.  they all said I was a good nurse and they would have me as their nurse, but why was I so slow???

I am slow, and relationally driven.  this is why in the last week I have a) forgotten picture day for frank.  b) forgotten about a play I purchased tickets to at the beginning of the year, and c) arrived at frank's school this morning to see that he did not bring his backpack in the car.  (that would be no big deal if his school wasn't 25 minutes away.)  

I am working on my calendar, I am trying to plan better, but this morning I remembered that I just need to ask the Lord for help.  As soon as I did, I felt better.  I am asking for Him to make me more alert and to remind me of all the things I am balancing at once, and to handle them with love whether or not they are done in the way I had imagined.

Frank was devastated when he arrived at school without his backpack.  The first thing that happened was a cool 2nd grader said, "Hi Frank!  Where's your backpack?"
 After we spoke to the teacher, and John's diaper leaked through during that conversation, I knelt down and said, "Frank, its no big deal.  I will get you some lunch, Mrs. Brown is fine, and you will be fine today.  if anyone else asks you where is your backpack, just say you don't have it today.  no big deal."

I am going to try to take my own advice, but dangit if i don't sometimes wish I was a type A person.

sidenote:  i would love to post photos of the many awesome events from this past month.  but i can't find my camera cord....  hilarious.

Erin: 34, Stinkhorns: 17

Frank is officially my stinkhorn spotter.  He finds them, then holds the bag for me while i dig up the eggs and the dirt that is contaminated by their yuck.  We make a good team.

We arrived home today from the zoo to find 4 stinkhorns and 5 eggs in the front bed.  I said, "eeew, Frank, we've got some work to do."

he said, "that's okay mommy, it's just stinkhorn season."

as i was putting Ford to bed, Frank stood outside and really gave the fungus a piece of his mind:

"Stinkhorns: I am NOT going to take your season anymore!"

"My mommy HATES you!"

"I'm going to put up a sign: NO STINKHORNS ALLOWED."

here is the sign that he cut, drew, and then gluesticked to the front door:

 

it may be hard to tell but that is an orange stinkhorn with brown goo, with the standard circle with the line through it.  

I had nothing to do with any of this, other than cleaning the gluestick off the door and replacing it with tape.

Michael came home and said that i have corrupted my son's mind.  I say it's bonding.

Here is me digging up stinkhorns last week

here is frank looking like frank

and here is ford, making the quintessential Ford gesture of greeting and excitement.  forgive the lighting, but i have never been able to capture it in a picture before:

two index fingers pointed at you...as if to say, "Duuude. what's up?"  where could he have learned this from?  yes, that is roman, his most favorite person in the world, behind him.

and here is my most favorite person in the world

 

today he came home early.  he told me not to bake the cookies i had planned on making because it was a nice day and we should get out.  said he needed a new wallet.  we all got in the car, and as we were driving towards the store, he stopped in front of a spa and said i had a 5:00 massage scheduled with Venetia.  

mighty mike.

a history of grace

Sarah waited for at least 70 years to have a baby of her own.
jacob waited and worked for Laban for over 14 years so he could marry rachel.
the Israelites waited for 40 years to enter into the promised land.
Jesus waited 30 years before he began his ministry.
Paul waited for 3 years to begin his ministry after his conversion.

Throughout time and eternity, God has always worked in the times of waiting.  He has used these periods of waiting to better his people.  He waits until they are ready for the challenges ahead of them.

I am anxiously awaiting this next season of our lives to be over...and it has not yet even started.  as most of you know, michael will begin some traveling next month.  it is not a little bit of traveling.  it is a test of your spirit sort of traveling.  And though I am sad, I am reminded that I have had to wait through challenging times previously in my life.

i waited to be healed of myasthenia gravis.
i waited to get my braces off.
i waited to get married
i waited to be free from bad habits
i waited to find a job when no one would return a phone call
I waited to find friends in a new city

and the waiting sometimes took time.
7 years, 2 1/2 years, 3 years, 7 years, 3 months, 1 1/2 years.
God's timing is not my timing, but what he has done in the waiting has been nothing short of a miracle.

i was healed of myasthenia gravis - with no medication and no relapse, as if it never happened
i got great teeth
i got to know michael better in the year we spent long distance than i had in the two years we spent dating in person.  
i was set free from years of twisted and confused ways of eating
i got the perfect job with the perfect boss, at the perfect place when i had no license and no experience to qualify me
i found the closest of friends who will be a part of my life now and through eternity.

waiting is not fun.  but it is not fruitless.  there is a sweetness in the pains of waiting that make it all the more amazing when the waiting is through.

when 3 -5 months is over, i will be celebrating what the Lord has taught me about myself and my boys and about his goodness and faithfulness.  This is what my history of waiting has taught me as I look to my future of waiting.

Erin: 25, Stinkhorns: 9

oh...they are gaining on me.  next step is to remove ALL the mulch from the front bed.  good thing michael got a cool new shovel as a surprise gift last night.  i will break it in today.

this is a dialogue frank gave me the other day:

"mommy, this is my little dog.  he is a dalmation.  his name is blueberry.  he lets me pet him and sit next to him when he is eating and he doesn't growl at me.  he lets me clean his ears and doesn't get upset.  he sleeps in his bed right here (pointing), but at night, he sleeps with ME.  he doesn't bark or get scared of the phone ringing.  he lets me give him bones and doesn't growl when i touch him.  i like my dalmation.  he loves me."

if you have met my dog, angus, this should all make sense to you.

Branching out

I have been doing things this week that I don't usually do.

1.  I went to a chiropractor. 
I was scared, but not sure what else to do after not being able to feel my right hand/arm for almost a month now.  I could go into great interesting detail about her office and how she was the receptionist, chiropractor and mom all at the same time...i.e. using some percussion machine on my neck while calling out the copay to the man at the front desk whom we could see through the open door, with her 2 1/2 year old daughter running in and out of the room chasing bouncy balls.  I could go in details, but my hand hurts still when i type....I am still on the fence about this experience.

2.  I called a business to complain to the manager about poor customer service.
When i was a little girl, and my mom would request to "speak to the manager" I would cringe in embarrassment, but here i am someone's mother, doing the exact same thing.  Again with the hand pain/numbness i cannot type in details, but I will say that I took my ring to get sized at the jeweler.  After them forgeting to call me when it was done, neglecting to tell me the store would be closed last weekend when I drug the family out to pick it up, and then asking me if my fingers were "swollen" yesterday when i stated that the ring was now too small...i had just had enough.  I don't know if i have ever in my life called to complain about poor service, but to be honest it felt really good.  If i had been a fancy pants socialite lady having a fat diamond sized, I am pretty sure that the sales lady would not have accused me of having swollen fingers when the ring didn't fit properly.  Just because I am in running shorts and have messy hair, a baby on my hip and a three year old brandishing a beer koozy on his fist while pretending to be a pirate, does not mean that I have swollen fingers.

The ring

When Michael designed my wedding ring, he encased the diamond in a platinum circle. He did this in part for style and in part because he knows me. I am a little clumsy.

This ring and I have been through many things.

When it was new, the platinum shone so perfectly smooth. But a knock here and a bump there and these little scratches kept appearing. They were so loud on that perfect smoothness. I remember walking for hours to and from Akers Hall at K- State just looking at this ring. I would admire it, then feel sad for bumping it into so many things. Michael said that one day a patina would form from all those bumps and scratches and that it would be beautiful from the wear.

I never got it sized because I never wanted it to be too small when i was pregnant or swollen from houston summers or crawfish boils. I always wanted to be able to wear it. And I have worn my ring while pregnant and in labor with both of my boys.

For a while I wore my ring as a nurse. I have always enjoyed it and wanted the world to know that I was a happily married woman. That was until I was making a hospital bed and it fell off in the bed frame/mattress. And then not once, but twice, it came off inside my latex gloves in trashcans full of things that you would not want touching your wedding ring....and then I stopped wearing it to the hospital.

The problem is that when you stop wearing your ring for a few days a week, you stop noticing that it isn't on your finger for the other days of the week. That is when the trouble started. I would go a day here or two days there and not notice that it was off. I would take it off in random places and forget where those places were. So then, i made a new resolution. One place in the house would hold my ring. Perfect. I stopped misplacing it. That is until last year.

I was pulling weeds in a gentle rain. Angus was being Angus and was obsessively bringing me the ball to throw as I knelt in the dirt. I am left-handed. My hand was wet. My ring is large. Before I knew it, i had thrown the ball and the ring flew off my hand as well. I couldn't see it, but I heard a "PLINK" somewhere near the house. We looked for days in the direction that I threw that ring. We cleaned our yard like it had never been cleaned and raked before. Michael even took the boards up from the deck. We were certain that we were in trouble after days of searching. Our precious friends Don and Alex showed up one Sunday after church. They said that they knew we were in distress and could they help us look for the ring. To make it slightly shorter, after a while of looking without results, Don just decided to start praying to find the ring. He moved as he prayed and before the words were silently out of his mouth, he looked behind the air conditioner to find my ring just sitting there looking at him.
He was surprised and speechless. I was grateful to God for answered prayers and friends that pray them.

That is why I did not despair when my ring vanished about two weeks ago. I had no earthly idea where it could have gone. But instead of flipping out, I called on the prayers of the saints. First Don and Alex, then the college girls, then the small group, and then the mom's group. I asked them all to pray, and I believe that they did so in earnest.

We had a small party for our friends two weekends ago. No ring. I packed up our house and a cooler of breastmilk, boudain, and ice cream last week for our trip to Kansas. No ring. I unpacked the cooler in Kansas when I arrived. No ring. But on Monday when Michael was emptying old dry ice bags from that same cooler that I used for the party and for the trip, when he lifted out a sack on the bottom of the cooler, there was my wedding ring just sitting there looking at him. With no logical explanation.

My ring has always been precious to me. It has been a reminder to me of how creative and generous my husband is. It is strong and sturdy despite being dropped and beaten by a careless clumsy woman. It shows the world that I belong to someone and someone belongs to me. But now, my ring means even more. It reminds me that God cares about the things that matter to me - no matter how small. It reminds me to seek out prayers from friends when I do not have the answers on my own. And now, today, it reminds me that it is time to go and get it sized so that I stop taking it off all the time.

My ring is more beautiful now that it has a patina.



Here is a parable that keeps coming to mind...
Luke 15: 8-10: (from the Message)
"Or imagine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won't she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she'll call her friends and neighbors: 'Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!' Count on it—that's the kind of party God's angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God."

Bullies

this morning, I dropped the boys off at the childcare room at the YMCA. As I turned the corner to go up the stairs to the workout area, I was stopped by two men. They were standing face to face in front of the stairs, blocking my way.

"Oh. did you want to go up there?" one says to me.
E: "well, I was hoping to"
Man: "well, its gonna cost you."
E: "really? how much?"
Other man: "One quarter to get by. That's how we make our money."

Then, while he was still talking, I slipped between them before they could stop me. There was some commotion and shouting from behind, but I just kept on walking. And then I started cracking up...Both of the men were skinnier than michael and at least 85 years old.

frank quotes and facepainting

"Why is daddy eating candy all the time?"

"because he likes it. sometimes daddy makes bad decisions. all that candy may make his teeth rot and fall out one day."

"I'm going to tell daddy when i wake up from my nap, not to eat so much candy."

"Well, you know, you can't tell daddy what to do. That's not for little boys to do."

"I am going to hurry and grow up to be a man so that then i can tell daddy what to do."

***
erin:"Frank, you need to try to go to the bathroom before we go to the park because they don't have a potty there."

frank: "I'm going to give you two options: If I am playing at the park and then I have to go potty, then I will...If I don't have to go potty at the park, then I won't."

(michael and i ask in parent speak "how does he know about options?")

michael: "Frank, what are options?"

frank: "Options are ideas."

****
This past Saturday was michael's company picnic. The last picnic has been scheduled last September, the same weekend that Hurricane Ike hit. This past Saturday was the equivalent of a Houston monsoon. I think I heard that we got 4 inches of rain that day. But the picnic had an indoor barn... so we were off to the picnic.

I was impressed by their efforts to still make it fun even though the petting zoo, pony rides and softball game were canceled. They had caricature artists, lots of door prizes, ping-pong, foozball, and a face painting lady. Being in a barn with people I don't know well, we tried to take advantage of it all. Because there were not so many people there, we got to eat our fill and we even won 4 door prizes. Frank won a collection of water guns and a 14 foot long jump rope. Michael got some crystal topped Texans' wine stoppers, and I got a ladies' pink Astros cap and shirt. We never win anything, so that was nice.

Frank then got his face painted (see photo) with Thomas the Tank Engine. Frank wanted me to get my face painted also. As there was nothing else for the face painting lady to do, I said okay.

Frank asks her to give me "Cars!" and she says, "let's do something pretty for your mom."
She proceeds to start to paint up over my eyes, down my cheek, onto my chin, my neck and down to the tip of my V-neck T-shirt. Then she whispers:"this is for your husband." I am half-smiling, thinking there is no way I can get out of this now. Then she says, "once I had a husband tell his wife that she needed to keep this on until they got home" wink wink.
What! how did I find the only sexy face painting lady in the world! When she shows me my face it is half covered in red, black and white Indian looking face paint...all the way down to my chest. Terrific. This is how I like to look at michael's company picnic. Shortly after, Michael's boss' wife comes to talk to me, followed by a host of other wives and co-workers. I started to try and explain that I did not ask her to paint this on my face, then I just gave up and pretended it wasn't there. I deleted the picture from my camera, because I was just too embarrassed to look at it.

Don't worry though, the company's picnic photographer took about 6 pictures of me. awesome.

it was a bowling miracle

why, might you ask, would the Lord be interested in my bowling game? well, I do not know, but what I witnessed last night, could be attributed to nothing more than the Lord.

I am not a good bowler. Despite my middle school and girl scout training in the game, I am really terrible. In fact, I have gotten worse with age. I often switch hands. I often switch balls. I have found that if I bowl with the heaviest ball I can throw - about 16 pounds (same weight as Ford), I have a better chance of not throwing it directly in the gutter. The heavy weight, combined with the very slow speed, sometimes keeps the ball in the lane. sometimes.

My first game I bowled a 37. I do not bowl to compete with others, only myself. My friend, who will remain nameless, bowled a 39 in her first game. My goal for the second game was to now beat 39. Not difficult you might say - but i like for my goals to be attainable. On the 9th frame, my score was 31. I rolled my first ball - got 7 pins. I then switched hands, threw my second ball, and watched it roll slowly down the lane. About 3/4 of the way down - as usual - it went into the gutter. Then the miracle... it bounced out. And in bouncing out of the gutter it knocked down the remaining 3 pins. amazing. I have never in my life seen a ball bounce out of the gutter, let alone to get me the spare and a score of 41!

A note on the pie. I am convinced that Mamaw left out an ingredient or a step in that pie. Perhaps it was an accident, or maybe it was intentional so that hers would always be awesome and would leave me scratching my head in wonderment. It was chocolate soup with meringue.
Never will I attempt it again. Only Stephanie could save that pie.