Somebody's Got a Case of the Mondays

I loved the movie Office Space. I have never had a dreary, dead end job before, so the "case of the Mondays" never really applied to me.

Then, this week happened.

I usually do a good job of prepping our family the week before a time change, adjusting bedtimes a bit at a time so that it's never an issue and the kids are not affected. However, this week I completely forgot, so Monday morning was a bit, well, rough.

Yup, we missed the bus. I had to drive Emma to school, which is only about four miles, but with today's gas prices, that four mile trip cost approximately seventeen dollars. I wasn't too thrilled.

I had some stuff to drop off at the school anyway, so it really wasn't a big deal. However, due to the fact that we had such a rough morning, I was sans make-up. Not really my favorite thing, since without make-up, I look pretty darn scary. Seriously, my under-eye circles are so dark that I have been asked on more than one occasion if my husband has an anger problem.

True story.

Anywhoo, we headed out to the van, my arms loaded with stuff, and realized that I had removed all the car seats the day before and put all the seats into the floor. (Can I just say, I love Stow and Go?) It only took a couple of minutes to put everything back together, but those precious few minutes pushed us from driving to school to suddenly we were driving to school late.

Oh, well. Whatever.

We all got in and left. A bit down the road, I heard Grant: "Mommy, we going to pre-school?" "No, baby, you have preschool tomorrow. We are just taking Emma to school today." Grant: "But, Mommy, we going to pre-school?" I got a touch frustrated. I really don't like it when they don't listen the first time. "No, Grant, we are just taking Emma to school today." Grant: "but, Mommy, why are we going to pre-school?"

That's when it hit me. I was driving to pre-school, not to Emma's school. Whoopsies. I guess I was on auto-pilot.

That's when the line from Office Space started going through my head. "I guess somebody's got a case of the Mondays!"

Drat.

I turned around and headed back toward Emma's school. Complete opposite direction, but luckily not too far away. As we were about to pull out on the main road, I heard Drew: "Mommy, I not buckled!"

Whoa.

I thought I buckled him before we left, but I can't swear to it. I mean, the kid has super-powers, so I wouldn't be shocked to discover that he could unbuckle himself. He can open every other childproof device we have tried, so why not?

The thing is, I was about to pull out on a 50 mile an hour, two lane road that is actually the deadliest road in the county. Not a great idea to do that with a kid unbuckled from his car seat.

There wasn't another car in sight behind me, so I just stopped at the stop sign and got out to buckle him. Of course, as soon as I did, a big truck magically appeared out of nowhere and pulled up behind me, so I hastily buckled Drew's seat, while shouting "I'm sorry!" like they could actually hear me over the road noise and the sound of their engine with all the windows closed. I hit the door close button, jumped in my seat, and took off.

My van is awesome that it has power sliding doors. I love it. However, starting to drive while the door is still in the process of closing itself by sliding forward really doesn't work too well.

Hello, inertia. Nice to see you.

Under the force of me gunning it from the stop sign to try and not delay the truck behind me any longer, the door motor could not properly function. Which means, it just tried to close itself but failed, leaving my adorable two year old screaming in delight at the fact that semi trucks were flying by right next to him and his door was wide open. I was so thankful that I had just put all the seats back in, which meant that I had previously gathered all the papers, fast-food wrappers, Capri-Sun pouches, empty bottles of Vitamin Water, and most of the cheerios that usually litter the van floor, so there was not an explosion of trash flying from my van.

Thank heavens for small favors.

I pulled over as soon as I could, and shut the door for real. The motor was starting to smell hot from all it's over-exertion, so I quickly prayed I had not wrecked it. Then we headed to school.

Drew screamed. He liked having the door open. He protests things loudly lately.

We made it to school only two minutes late. We parked illegally along with five other cars and headed into the office. When your kid is late, you have to check them in to the office, and they get a pass to go to class. Of course, due to the time change, the line to check the kids in stretched all the way out of the school office and into the hall. At least I wasn't the only one who couldn't get their kid to school on time, but there I was, looking like the Bride of Frankenstein in front of the entire office staff, half the PTO, several parents, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Perfect.

I got everything dropped off, sent my darling daughter to school, and headed for home.

I made sure everyone was buckled first, though.

Happy Monday! (Yes, I know it's now Wednesday. You don't actually think I could blog about something on the same day it happened, do ya? I mean, I haven't even blogged the first day of school yet. For last year. A-hem.)

Trials and Tribulations of C. C. D. G.

I think I have mentioned in the past that I am completely in love with Costco.

I love all the great stuff, being able to buy food cheaper, and now that we have the size family we do, being able to buy food in the quantities we need. A bundle of five dozen eggs? I'll take two!

Also, their hot dog-and-a-soda-for-$1.50 is fantastic for our family. We can barely eat at home that cheap, and the kids love it.

But the best part of Costco is their little girl holiday dresses.

Oh, let me tell you, these dresses are wonderful. Every Christmas and Easter, they have a great selection of well made, adorable, floofy dresses that make the little girl in me swoon, and makes my daughter beg, plead, and bat her eyelashes that she can get the dress of her dreams.

Truly, the best dresses you will find. Mucho bonus points for the fact that they are less than $20, compared to the $30-$80 of the other stores.

Swoon.

Every year, Holly and I buy our daughters Costco dresses. The girls love it because we can pick out similar styles but not have the girls be matchy-matchy. We call each other from Costco: "The dresses are in! I got the red one with long sleeves!"

There is one thing we are not as fond of in the whole Costco-Christmas dress-adventure, and that is the introduction of Costco-Christmas-Dress-Glitter into our homes. Now, this is not the normal amount of glitter that comes on a glittery-little-girl dress, this glitter is, well, Costco-sized.

Costco Christmas Dress Glitter will now, forevermore, be dubbed C. C. D. G. Mainly because I'm too lazy to type that out.

The first time your darling child dons one of these amazingly beautiful creations, she will spin and twirl and dance like the beautiful fairy tale princess she is. And, almost like a fairy tale, C. C. D. G. will fall from the dress, leaving a trail wherever she goes.

Seriously. The floor will look like Tinkerbell and the Tooth Fairy got in a catfight, and the ensuing scuffle between these two nemesises (nemesi?) left a trail of horror everywhere, till you find the place that your child sat on the ground and rolled around a little Tinkerbell exploded and died, disappearing into a mass of glitter.

It will be everywhere, and last for months. It's worse then those ridiculous birthday cards that some annoying and insensitive people put confetti in, so that you open it and all this confetti falls out and scatters, and no matter how well you clean it up, you will find little pink hearts in random places for months, if not years.

A-hem. Anywhoo.

We have tired a lot of ideas. Washing the dress first works well, but the glitter will still be everywhere. Last Christmas, Emma wore her cousin Lily's dress from last year, in the hopes that the glitter that was going to release from the dress would have already done so. It didn't work.

When we go to my parent's house for Christmas dinner, we have an incredibly wonderful formal dinner. It's lovely, it's insanely delicious, and it's fun to be able to use the nice china and drink from a water goblet. And by the end of dinner, where your children are learning to keep their napkin in their lap, and occasionally wipe their mouth with it, you will have a child whose napkin from-the-lap-to-the-face routine will result in a face that is covered in Costco Christmas Dress Glitter. There will also be some C. C. D. G. on the face of the boy who is across the table and three seats down. I don't know how that happens. The Glitter has magical powers. Maybe it's the result of a curse from killing Tinkerbell, I don't know.

Costco needs to either make more dresses without glitter, or I need to start the fashion of putting clear packaging tape over the dress to begin with, in hopes of containing the C. C. D. G.

Come on, Costco. Help me out here. I think I have some glitter in my eye.

Saying Goodbye

This week, Grandpa Stauffer went to heaven in the loving embrace of his Savior. He had battled cancer for years, and was finally completely and totally healed in the arms of Jesus.

I miss him.

I lost two Grandpas and one Grandma between the ages of eleven and thirteen. My remaining Grandma moved across the state, and she passed on right before my wedding. I married into a wonderful family, Marty had yet to lose a Grandparent until this week.

Grandpa Stauffer was everything you would want in a Grandpa. He welcomed everyone in with a hug and a smile, I became one of his grand kids almost instantly. He treated me like his own, the entire family is that way. Grandpa has created a legacy of love within this close-knit family.

We buried his body on Thursday. It was immediate family only. There were fifty of us there, and most of the young kids were not in attendance. The Stauffer family in this community is huge. He had five children, sixteen grandchildren, and thirty great-granchildren, with two more currently cooking and many more to come. All but one is still in the state, and the majority are still in the county.

He built a close-knit family by having Stauffer Sunday on the second Sunday of every month. We all gathered for dinner, and Grandpa would gather us all in the living room and talk about what he was studying in Bible study, what he had read recently, or whatever the Lord had put upon his heart to talk about. On your birthday month, you would give a report on the past year, what you learned, where the Lord was leading you, and how your life was going. He cared about us, he wanted to know about our lives, and he prayed for every single one of us all the time.

Grandpa taught us that your priorities should be in order- God, family, then work. This family-focused lifestyle has shown itself so many times, I cannot even think of all the times the family has pulled together to help one another out. Truly, Grandpa taught us how to raise a Christian, God-centered family. None of us are perfect, there have been mistakes made, but forgiveness always follows.

Because that's just what Christ does.

Grandpa showed his love to everyone, and he proved that love and affection should not be hampered by what people might be thinking. He would hug you if you needed a hug, hold on tight, and whisper in your ear if he thought you needed it. He would sing hymns if the mood struck, regardless of where he was. He didn't care. Loving God was first, and God's approval was more important that man's.

I hope to emulate that someday.

Marty and I were talking, Grandpa and Grandma had four children who had children of their own (their son Karl was killed in an accident in his teen years.) They now have offspring totaling seventy. Marty and I have four kids. We could be Grandma and Grandpa Stauffer someday. I only hope I can handle the responsibility with the same love, grace, and kindness that Grandpa showed me, and continue the legacy that he built within this family.

Grandpa, you will be dearly missed, but your legacy will live on. I am so incredibly proud to be a Stauffer because of the things you showed me and taught me. Thank you for loving me like I was your own grandchild, thank you for being my Grandpa for ten years. Goodbye for now, I look forward to the day we get to see each other again in heaven, and I'll hug your neck and tell you again how much I love you.


Grandpa and Emma, Christmas 2007. This is Grandpa's love.

Why I Love Wine

This conversation happened today.

Me, on the phone with my darling husband, whom I adore: "I love you, you know that, right?"

My darling husband, who knows me so well: "Uh-oh, what did I do?"

Me: "You know last weekend when I was gone and you decided that it would be a brilliant parenting decision to have a water fight with the kids and spray them with the hose, regardless of the fact that it was January?"

Marty, laughing: "Of course I remember! That was awesome."

Me, unimpressed with his laughter: "Yeah. Well, did you know that you didn't undo the hose from the faucet, even though it was in the 20's last night?"

Marty, still laughing: "Oh, my bad."

(Insert a short pause here, while I compose myself before I resort to exerting my go-go-gadget arm to smack him through the phone.)

Me: "Well, I had no idea that there was a hose, hooked up, turned on, and sitting on the patio. So when we got home today, and I let the boys play in the yard while I went inside for a few minutes, what do you think I found when I came out to get them?"

Marty: (OK, he said nothing. He was merely laughing hysterically, enjoying not only the mental picture this drummed up, but the fact that he was on the phone, and therefore out of arm's reach. Apparently he forgot about the go-go-gadget arm, or the wrath of a ticked off wife, both of which can extend for miles.)

Me: "Why are you laughing? You have three soaking wet and shivering boys here, who decided that spraying each other with the hose was a great wintertime activity."

Marty, still laughing, and by the tone of his laugh, probably had a few tears running down his face. He might have been on the floor for all I knew: "Bwaaahahahahahahahahahahahha!!! Hoo, I'm sorry, but that's funny!"

Me: "Are you really sorry? Because the fact that you are still laughing suggests that you might not be entirely sincere."

Marty: "Well, I am sorry. I'm sorry I got caught!" And then he dissolved into another hysterical laughing fit.


Truly, I have five kids. A six year old, two four year olds, a two year old, and a thirty two year old who is too big to tackle to the floor and refuses to listen.

And that is why I love wine.

Africa

Well, it's official. I'm going to Africa for two weeks in August.

I know this is a shock. I am personally shocked as well. But when God calls, it's usually in His time, and not mine. Apparently, God says it's time.

I have had a heart for the children of Africa for a while now. We sponsor a little girl in Kenya through Compassion International, and I am thrilled that I might get the chance to meet her.

Does the timing of this all seem odd? To some, it might. A mother of four young children, going off to a third world country, ministering to the orphans of the AIDS epidemic, exposing herself to malaria and typhoid, leaving her children for two weeks to travel to a country where there is political unrest, rioting and crime may not make sense to most people.

But it makes sense to me.

I firmly believe that my life isn't quite on the right track. I believe in God, and that He sent His son Jesus to die on the cross to save me from my sin. I believe that this life is just a blink of the eye in comparison to eternity, and that we are put on this earth for a purpose. I don't think I have quite found my purpose yet.

Yes, raising my four children to be mighty men and women of God is a very noble purpose, and I intend to do that to my fullest. But I don't believe that that is all there is to it.

We are to touch lives. We are to minister to others the gospel of Christ, to be the body of Christ here on earth. What does that look like? I don't believe that looks like a woman who so focused so much on her family and children that she ignores everything else going on around her. That doesn't look like a woman who has been blessed by unimaginable luxury and incredible children, holing up in her home and not letting her life cross paths with the lives of those who are so incredibly different. We are not to stay within our circle. We are to branch out and show Christ's love to those who haven't experienced it yet.

I am a very wealthy woman. I will say it again, I am a very wealthy woman. Now, before you all start making plans to rob my house, I am not at all wealthy by America's standards. In fact, when you line up our family's material wealth compared to that of the rest of America, we are just barely above the poverty line. But when you compare our family's wealth to those who live in the slums of the Mathare Valley in Kenya, we have luxuries that those who live there can't even fathom.

I can let my children drink water without worry of them catching a disease that I have no medical care to cure.

The road that runs in front of my house is not made up of primarily human waste.

My children can eat till they are full, and when we are done with a meal, there is some left over.

My entire community is not ravaged by the AIDS epidemic.

It's funny, seeing these things in print seems so trite, so unreal. We as Americans cannot even fathom the pure poverty that most of the world faces. We get so used to our easy, simple lives that we cannot even comprehend the pure horrors that the rest of the world faces every day.

I am so incredibly blessed, and in order to live out my life as an example of Christ Himself, I need to leave my home and go to those who need love. And Kenya is where I am called to do just that.

I think we get too comfortable in our lives. Americans, in general, live to not rock the boat. We don't do things that stir the pot, or any other silly cliches that define a life of taking care of ourselves, and not the needs of others who are dying of preventable things. When God calls us, we feel the need to check with others to see if we have approval from the masses before we answer the call. I want my life to reflect that I answer to God alone. God's approval means so much more than the approval of others, and He will never lead you where He will not accompany you. I fail to remember this often, but I am working on it, and growing in my faith. Today, I am listening to the call of the Lord.

God called me to Africa. And I immediately said yes.

And yes, I'm terrified. The fact is, I'm comfortable in my cushy lifestyle and my comfortable home with heat and running water. I have no idea how good my life is, and I'm about to have my heart ripped out of my chest and shattered into a thousand pieces. I know this experience will forever change my life and my outlook on things.

And I'm praying that God will break my heart for the things that break His.

If you haven't watched this video before, I HIGHLY encourage you to do so. And if you have, watch it again.

This is why I am going to Africa.

Mr. Fearless

I have written a lot about Drew on this blog, since he is a, well, an unusual child. I wanted to show you a little more of his sweet, fun, daredevil self. This is most certainly not the worst of it, but a good example as to the games we play at our house.

Drew is not only scary-smart, but completely fearless. And now after this, he wants to jump out of an airplane.

Lets hope he remembers a parachute first.

Conversations in the Car

Ben: "Mommy, puppies don't eat bamboo."

Me: "Oh, really?"

Ben: "Pandas eat bamboo!"

Me: "That's right, Ben! When did you get to be such a smart boy?"

Ben: giggles "I just smart, Mommy! Do you know what a lion eats?"

Me: "Tell me, sweetie, What does a lion eat?"

Ben: "A lion eats grass."

Me: "Actually, a lion is a carnivore. That means he eats meat. Can you guys say, 'carnivore'?"

Ben and Grant: "Car-viv-nor!"

Me: "A carnivore is an animal that eats meat. Where do you think the lion gets his meat?"

Ben: "Some meat is in a tree, but some meat is in the forest. But some meat is on a dinosaur plate!"

Me: "Well, a lion eats his meat without cooking it first, and he doesn't have a plate. So he just eats other animals. Lions eat zebras."

Grant: "Wait! No, lions can't eat zebras, I want all the zebras for a pet! Tell the lions they not allowed to eat zebras!!"

Sure, buddy, I'll get right on that. :)