Rule #297

If you're married to a photographer, always wear clothes that match. Always.

Door County

I wake up early to the chatter of my youngest, sleeping in a pack and play at the foot my bed, “Daddy? Daddy?” he says over and over. Suddenly, he remembers where we are and he begins to yell, excitedly, “BAMMA! BAMMA!” (Grandma.)

I dress quickly, guzzle a cup of coffee, and throw him in the bike trailer for an early morning let’s-not-wake-up-anyone-else bike ride. The town of Ephraim is completely still, and I ride along the lake, listening to the birds and the chatter of my almost-two-year-old.

“Ducks! Ducks!” he points.

I ride back, have breakfast, and then another crew is out on their bikes. Llama Papa, Uncle Llama and the cousins all go for a ride.

And so our first day of vacation in Door County unfolds.

A week of digging in the sand, throwing rocks, swimming in the lake, reading books on the porch, going out for ice cream, and just hanging out follows.

As vacations go, it was a perfect 10.

I can stop anytime

I’m away from home, and knew that internet access would be scarce this week, but assumed I could pop into a café here and there and make a quick post. And I could, hypothetically speaking, but the café in the next town over with the free wifi closed at 6 o’clock.

I asked the girl at the ice cream shop next door if she knew where I could find wifi and she said, I am not making this up, “What’s wifi?”

Alrightythen.

I guess I won’t be around much this week.

Which is a good thing, right? We all need to take a technology break every now and then, right? (She says huddled over her laptop while sitting on the sidewalk outside of a fancy inn that she isn't staying at...)

I’m sure the twitching will stop any day now.

laugh

I’ve been a little uptight lately. Actually, a lot uptight. So when my friend sent me a link to this post, I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants. Almost. Ahem.

Go read it. Laugh. Then report back here and leave me a comment with a link to the funniest thing you’ve read (or written) on the web in awhile.

A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone-tired.

Proverbs 17:22 (The Message)

things I never thought I would say out loud

Don’t forget to wipe!

Did you use soap?

Get out of the refrigerator right now!

The next person who farts with their armpit will have a consequence.

And that was just yesterday.

How about you? What do you have to say that you can't believe you're saying?

**edited to add -- I cannot believe I just said this: Can you move over? I can't see the TV! (Um, yeah. We're watching Sesame Street.)

help

Why is it so hard to accept help?

I was just at the grocery store with baby b. Unlike me, he loves to shop. The grocery store we go to has a fun “car cart” that he drives, beeping and vrooming at people as we go.

The only problem with the car cart is you’re not supposed to take it outside. When the noisy boys were small, this was a serious issue. With just one toddler, though, it’s not usually a big deal. The checker puts the bagged groceries in a normal cart, I plop the baby in that seat, and off we go.

But today the checker put the groceries in the cart without unfolding the seat first, so there was no place for baby b. to sit. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I just left. First I tried carrying baby b. and pushing the cart with one hand. Kind of tricky. Next, I tried holding baby b’s hand while he walked, pushing the cart a little bit at a time. It was ridiculous how complicated it was just getting to my minivan.

Two women stopped me on their way out and asked, “Do you need help?” It’s like I’ve got a built in “no” reflex or something because without really thinking about it, I just waved them on by. “No thanks! I’ve got it!”

But I didn’t have it. I really needed a hand.

Does anyone else do this or is it just me?

happy father's day

“Mom?” my child whispers into the too-early morning. I was up with him at two, and between a headache and way too many deep thoughts, couldn’t fall back asleep until four. I roll over and wake my husband.

“Can you help him?” I ask.

He climbs out of bed without complaint, and then it hits me.

“It’s Father’s Day. I just woke you up at five-thirty in the morning on father’s day so I could sleep in.”

“It’s okay, honey.” He tiptoes out of the room, closing our bedroom door behind him so I can go back to sleep.

This is just one of about two thousand reasons why he is such a great husband and father. Happy Father’s Day, honey!

And if you need a nap later today? I’m on it.

made for grace

I cried the first time I read Ann's blog, Holy Experience. Her beautiful writing captures something about God's grace that resonates with the deep places of my soul. She finds words for things when there are no words.

In a culture of church shopping for what will meet my needs best, for leaving a church every time we become uncomfortable or feel like we don't fit, this post was a breath of fresh air.

don't do it!

I was just checking my sitemeter to see what brings people to my blog these days, and was disturbed to find the following google search: cooking llama when is it done. And in Colorado Springs no less!

Do people really eat llamas? Please say it isn't so.

messes

It started with a cake plate.

We had our small group over for a bbq and I made a lemonade cake and put it on my fancy pedestal cake platter, which is stored on a shelf in the basement. The next day the cake was gone, the plate was clean, but I was too busy to take it downstairs just then. So onto the table it went.

“Mom! Can you get this away from baby b.? He’s ruining it,” added more than a few art projects to the pile. I always mean to put things away, but when naptime rolls around, there’s always something else that urgently needs my attention—dishes on the kitchen counter, laundry to fold, or two big boys who need some quiet time with Mom. And so the mess just sits there, growing a little bit every day.

Now when I look at it, I’m overwhelmed and don’t know where to start.

Kind of like my life. Messes have piled up in the corners of my heart, waiting for life to slow down enough to sort through it all. And now there’s such a huge pile, I don’t know where to start.

Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter where I start. I just need to start.

more stories from the pottery studio

“This would make a nice gift for someone,” our instructor encourages. “I’m amazed that this is your first time at the wheel.”

“Thanks,” Twin B. responds. “But I think I’ll keep it for myself.”

All the way home, he beams. “I’m really good at this pottery stuff, Mom.”

“You really are, B. You’re very creative,” I affirm.

“Even better than you,” he continues.

This is true.

Every time I sit down at the wheel, I have a plan. I want to make a mug or a vase, a bowl, and every time, I end up with something else. Something unidentifiable.

Twin B. sits next to me with his wet lump of clay, and lets the wheel turn around and around while he looks at it.

“What are you going to make?” I ask.

“I don’t know yet.”

And then as his hands shape the lump into something, he tells me, “I’m making a mug.”

And he does.

The day after our last class, he presented me with a wrapped package. “For you,” he says, “it’s a be-late birthday present.” He jumps up and down as I take it from him. “Open it!” he beams.

“Oh, B. I love it,” I tell him.

“I know,” he says, “that’s why I wanted to give it to you. Thanks for taking me to pottery class, Mom.”

And as I drink my coffee this morning, I’m reminded of my own imperfections. As a Mom, a friend, a follower of Christ. And yet God manages to smooth it out and make something good come of it all every time.

storybook stew

Storybook Stew.

The title caught my eye as baby b. pulled on my arm, eager to go see the huge stuffed bear in the lobby. I grabbed it off the shelf and skimmed it as I explored the rest of the library with my toddler.

This book is brilliant.

It’s a children’s cookbook with recipes and activities that tie in to classic children’s stories. Blueberries for Sal has a recipe for blueberry bread and an activity for scratch art. Heckedy Peg includes the instructions for how to make butter in addition to a yummy cupcake recipe.

I realize that clever Moms make these sorts of connections all the time and probably already think to make some kind of healthy Bear Country Punch after reading The Berenstain Bears and too much Junk Food. But for the rest of us, this book offers a wealth of ideas.

This week, Works for me Wednesday has a theme: Mom, I’m bored! Go check out Rocks in my Dryer for some great boredom busting tips!