the mall

“NO!” the little girl screams, arching her back and falling out of her Mother’s arms.

The young Mom has three little ones, and I read the exhaustion in her eyes as she tries to put the little girl in the stroller. She thrashes out of her reach again, and this time, the weary Mom just sits down on the floor next to her other two children. Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly. It seems like just yesterday that was me. I was that overwhelmed Mom at the mall.

The noisy boys must have been around three when we had our Big Episode.

“We’re all going to smile nicely for the picture,” I explained. “This is a special picture for Grandpa’s birthday.”

Twin B. didn’t want to go to the mall. He didn’t like having his picture taken.

“If everyone is good,” I continued, “we’ll go to McDonalds for lunch.”

I pulled into the mall parking lot, anxious to meet my sister-in-law and her girls. The noisy boys were happy to see their cousins, but Twin B. was still scowling. He managed to hold it together until the photographer told everyone to take off their shoes.

“NO!” he screamed.

“Remember, B. if you cooperate we’ll go to McDonalds for lunch.”

“I don’t want to take off my shoes!” he yelled.

And it just got worse from there. He screamed and cried through the entire picture taking session, even after we let him keep his shoes on. I wanted to crawl in a hole and hide with a martini. Make that a double.

Leaving the mall that day, I half dragged him through the department store toward the exit. “We’re leaving, B. We can’t stay and have lunch at McDonalds because you didn’t cooperate for the picture."

Looking back, maybe I should have waited until we were in the car to remind him of his consequence. Because at that point, all hell broke loose.

A security guard actually stopped us in the store, “Is everything okay here?” He asked.

“He’s having a temper tantrum because we’re not going to McDonalds,” I explained, suddenly grateful that my boys look so much like me.

“Is this your Mom?” He asked Twin A.

“Yes.” He said, thank the Lord.

“And this is your brother?”

“Yes.”

"Oh, they're twins," he noticed. “Good luck, Ma’am.”

We survived that day, the noisy boys and I. It was horrible in a million different ways, but we survived.

I didn’t always cope well when the noisy boys were little, and today, I see myself there, sitting on that mall floor unsure of what to do next. And so I stop and the overwhelmed Mom and I lock eyes. “You will survive this,” I tell her. “Hang tough. All the Moms in this mall are on your side.”

We both smile. I hold the stroller while she buckles her screaming daughter in.

And I cry at the beauty of God's grace right there in the middle of the mall. Because whether we recognize it or not, it really is enough.

the drawing

“Pick one,” I encouraged baby b. But he doesn’t want to pick a piece of paper from a hat. He wants my camera.

After a few minutes of coaxing, I ask my husband to draw a name. “Peepers!” He reads. Yay! My friend from church wins a book!

“Draw another one,” I ask him.

“You can’t give all the books away,” he says. “How many do you have?”

“Ten. Draw one more! This is fun!”

“You should do one drawing now and another one later,” he says.

“No. These drawings get tiring. It becomes too much about me. Just draw another name.”

Okay.” He draws another slip of paper. “Mommy Cracked.”

There we have it. Peepers and Mommy Cracked. Congratulations, Ladies! Peepers––I'll bring your copy to church next week! Mommy Cracked -- send me an email with a shipping address and I'll put your copy in the mail.

I wish I could give a copy to everyone! (See? This is why I will never make money as a writer.) If you didn't win, you can buy a copy of the book here.

book giveaway!

“Can I have your autograph?” I look up from my coffee and smile. She must be waiting for the speaker I’m assisting at the conference. But she hands me a pen.

“You want my autograph?” I ask, incredulous. After all, I share the writing credits with fifty other Moms in the compilation book.

“Oh, I do!” The woman insisted, glancing at my pink designated-author pin. “You never know. You might really BE somebody someday!”

Right.

It’s not very often that I’m speechless, but this comment did the trick. I just signed her book and smiled.

It’s a privilege to be included in this fifteenth anniversary compilation book from Hearts at Home, I’m Glad I’m a Mom! This book would make a great Mother’s Day gift for any Mom, young or old. The stories will make you laugh, cry, and in case you’ve forgotten, they’ll remind you why you’re glad you’re a Mom.

Leave me a comment or send me an email for a chance to win a free copy! Baby b. will draw the name on Monday morning, so I’ll leave the contest open until then. The contest is open to anyone, anywhere in the world.

And if you win, I’ll even sign it. With my real name. Because you never know. I might really BE somebody someday!

memorable Easter quotes

"Look! It's Franken-Jesus!" Llama Papa commenting on a preschooler's choice of using purple and green crayons on the picture of Jesus next to the empty tomb.

“What in the world do bunnies have to do with Easter?” – Twin B.

“You mean the house is free? Like mercy is free? We all need mercy, but God knows we can’t afford it, so He just gives it to us.” – Twin A. while watching “Extreme Makeover Home Edition.”

“More?” – Baby b. with his mouth full of jelly beans. (I know, ask me what the twins had in their Easter baskets at this age. Let me assure you, it wasn't candy. Everything is different with the third, isn't it?)

Not again!

“How was school today, B?” I asked.

“Good.”

“What was your special thing?”

“Learning Stations.”

“How fun! Who were the helping Moms?”

He rattled off two names then shrugged his shoulders. “But there was one Mom who didn’t show up.”

You know that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach? I had that. And then I found my volunteer schedule, and sure enough: It was me.

This happened a few weeks ago, and actually it turned into a really good teaching moment with my boys. “Nobody’s perfect,” I told them, “not even me. We all need grace.” Twin A. especially was struck by this not being perfect concept. He tries really, really hard and he really wants that to be good enough. It’s hard to accept grace when it means acknowledging your own failings.

So I chalked the whole thing up to another Kindergarten Mom Moment, apologized to the teacher, combed through my calendar and regrouped my organizational efforts, and moved on.

Until Monday.

It happened again, people.

And once again, the teacher extended sweet mercy to this tired Mom. She was so kind, I cried on my way home from school. And when I think of all the times it’s me on the other end of inconvenience, I’m ashamed. Because while I talk a lot about grace and forgiveness, the truth is, I expect people to tow the line. I tend to be critical, not gracious, when I’m on the other end of inconvenience.

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. (1 Peter 4:8)

a new normal

I didn’t even notice her. She was sitting on the other side of the room. The speaker, Jaynee, held up a beautiful tiered cake platter and showed us how she had glued silver butterflies at each edge, to cover up the chips. How clever, I think.

And then a conference worker walked right into our classroom and interrupted Jaynee in mid-sentence. She called a woman out by name, a name I can’t for the life of me remember now. But the woman stood up right away, and together they filed out of the room. Jaynee paused, and then she took a break from talking about loaf pans and how to cut crumbly cakes and she prayed for this woman that none of us had noticed before.

After the workshop, I helped Jaynee pack up all of her dishes and tablecloths. “I’m concerned for that woman,” she told me. “In all of my years speaking at Hearts at Home, if they have to pull someone out of a workshop, they always mention that it’s not an emergency so women don’t worry. She didn’t say that this time.”

A few minutes later the golf cart guy wandered in. “Will you ladies need a ride?” He asked.

“We will,” I responded.

“Do you know anything about the woman who was pulled out of my workshop?” Jaynee asked.

“Yes,” he said with a long, heavy sigh, “her husband collapsed this afternoon. He had a heart attack and died.”

We continued packing up dishes in silent, tearful prayer. And this morning, I find myself weeping again for this young mother, praying for her this Monday morning as she finds a way through the dark wilderness of grief, somehow forging out a new normal for herself and her children.

any LOST fans?

I’ll admit it. I’m hooked, and have been since I watched that first, creepy season on DVD a few years ago.

If you haven’t watched last night’s episode yet, don’t read the rest of this post, and don’t click on any of these other posts listed on Shannon’s blog either.

I’m just saying.

I was most disturbed by Jin’s supposed death. (And I say “supposed,” because what can we really know for sure when it comes to LOST?)

I didn’t like the way the writers manipulated that hospital scene to make us think Jin was rushing to the hospital to be with his wife when, really, it was some kind of flash back. That’s my theory anyway. I don’t think Jin was one of the Oceanic Six. I think the Panda scene was a flashback to a time before the plane crash, when Jin was still working for the bad guys. (And while we’re on the subject of the Panda thing, I will say I was getting frustrated with Jin. As a woman who has had the privilege of giving birth several times, I wanted to shout: JUST GO TO THE HOSPITAL ALREADY. YOUR WIFE WILL NOT CARE IF YOU BRING A STUFFED ANIMAL OR NOT.

So will Jin be the one to die next week? Maybe. He did say that he would do whatever it takes to protect Sun and the baby. Of course, maybe he sent Sun off to be rescued and simply stayed on the island, and Sun has to pretend he’s dead.

And Michael. Wow. He must be Ben’s spy on the boat. But how does Ben get everyone to do all of this stuff for him? A few weeks ago, we saw that even Sayid had succumbed to Ben’s powers, which both sickens me and rouses my curiosity. Who exactly is Ben and how does he get people to do the things they do?

As always, there are more questions than answers.