*HUGE sigh*

Tonight we hosted our fifth party in the month of August.
(Yes, I, too, am dazed and amazed. Possibly more on the dazed side...)

Anyway, tonite's party was long-awaited. A decade in the making. We moved into our home 10 years ago. And we have never once invited a neighbor in or been invited into a neighbor's home. Oh, believe me, they are all VERY kind --- they wave from their driveways, they wave from their cars, they may even pause watering the lawn and briefly chat if we're out for a walk. But never anything more.

I have long wished to host a neighborhood backyard party. All summer I debated about dates, timing, weather, whether to go through with it or not. Now, keep in mind, we live in a pretty elderly area. No propositions to increase taxes for school initiatives ever pass in our neck of the woods. I'm just sayin.' My husband jokes that the 'hood looks the same on Tuesday as it does on Saturday --- meaning, when you're retired (or a stay-at-home mom!), all the days are really just a little bit more of the same. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

We have "The Wavers" --- a group of old guys who sit out on their driveway and wave at passersby. All day. Morning. Noontime. Evening. They're sitting out on that driveway in their lawn chairs, enjoying their refreshment of choice in a handy little drink cozy, waving at the rest of the world as it goes about its day. Eventually, I'm sure they retire to their respective houses, but they are fixtures. Neighborhood icons.

And then "The Nosies." They know everything about everybody. They walk the streets every morning. Together. Unless her hip is bothering her. And then he'll go it alone.

And "The Sugar Plum Fairy.' She arrives each Easter morning like clockwork - as good as the Easter bunny - with a plate chock-full of a cake shaped like a lamb and dolled up with homemade 7-minute frosting ... or most recently enormous batches of cupcakes complete with sprinkles on top because the cake mold broke a few years back. (Pookie LOVES Sugar Plum Fairy!)

I finally stopped tinkering my toes at the edge of the pond and dove into the water headfirst. I handwrote invitations to all the neighbors. And as we walked our new puppies Obi and Luke (who can bring people out of their homes faster than a wagon full of four sweet kids and their two cute puppies??), we hand delivered each note to the respective address and neighbor.

So, the house has NEVER been so clean. Seriously. The whole place rivals the closet, now. It's amazing how fast I can work, really. And I make a mean shrimp appetizer and chip/dip combo. And my man can grill up some tasty grub!

And the party?

The party was excellent. Two neighbors who have lived in their homes for 36 years and for 24 years respectively had never officially met before this party! My husband and I both agree, we would feel welcomed into our neighbors' homes now. Not like, if we were knocking on their doors, they would be peering out the peep hole wondering "What do they want?"

The Closet

I'm trying to organize my house while the three older kids are at school and the baby rests in the afternoon. In fact, my goal is to have our home so well put together that when the winter humdrums arrive and we all start to go a little stir crazy in our small house, my husband will see how MUCH SPACE we really have to live here, and he won't start convincing me that we need to move into a house as big as this one.



Oh, I still covet that house. And I dream of it. Often. It's ONLY problem, seriously was the TOO HUGE master bedroom (HELLO? ...HELLO? ...hello? ...hello? Honey - are you in here ...in here ...in here...) and for whatever inane reason a too small dining room. (But hey, it HAD a dining room, which is more room than this house has!) But I LOVE this house (OK, it's the backyard I love. And all the fixing-up we've done inside. It basically IS a new home after all my husband's handiwork!) I don't want to move. Ever. (Have I ever told you I have issues with change?)



So, I'm organizing. Really, because it MUST be done. We cannot live like this. I won't live like this. (My husband won't, either!) I'm doing one project at a time. Well, really, I have about 5 or 6 going at any given time, but not only do I not like change, I also don't have a long attention span, and I quickly grow tired of one activity and move onto another for a while. Then I don't ever really get back to the first one, and, well, it's a cycle, guys. I'm just saying.



So, here's my hall linen closet. It's really the ONLY closet, but we'll call it the linen closet just for fun. And because I got waaay carried away before I realized what I was doing, just imagine (I know it's hard to imagine SUCH clutter, but try) a whole load of towels SHOVED into that middle space before I stopped and shot the photo. Again, YES I AM EMBARRASSED TO SHOW YOU THIS. But I INSIST upon keepin' it real, Folks!



So, here's the sort-of-in-the-middle-of-demo-before:




And here's the after:





I had to shoot it with flash because it's just such a small, dark space. But, just imagine a pretty pale blue on the walls (vs. the ELECTRIC blue you see here). I used a power drill, Baby. I'm feeling pretty good about this one. And I promise to keep it simple. Forever. Amen.

God is Good. All the Time

For you regular readers, you may notice I reposted T's friendship story from the second day of school (below). I had deleted it because I was trying to clean up my blog for the BAThW party, and my husband thought it was a little sad for a party. But I saved it. Because I do write this for them, my children, and I wanted to stay true to the sentiment I wrote within the post that one day they, too, may become brokenhearted over a playground mishap with their own child. And I want them to see how I (God) handled myself (me). While every absolute fiber of my soul screamed foul for my little boy.

But the story continues. As is so often the case when God is involved. (And He should ALWAYS be involved...)

T tumbled down the steps of the bus the other day with a face-splitting smile on his face. He ran, backpack jiggling behind him, across the sidewalk and leaped into my waiting arms. His words were brief. But his joy was evident.

He had offered that olive branch to the same boy again. (Who among us would have tried again...Mr. T is my hero.) The little boy said yes! And now, truly, they have become instant best friends.

I actually ran into Little Friend's mom in the cry room at church on Sunday (no surprise to find me there ANY given Sunday with Baby S!) And when she shared the effect T's friendship had had on her boy, I beamed with pride. I told her I had a story to share with her. For another day. On this day, we merely basked in the glory of two sweet, young 7 year-olds whose paths have crossed in first grade. And my life will be forever changed.

Will You Be My Friend?

I was all set to tell you a funny story about how my 4 year-old taught me today how to pick my nose . Seriously. Funny stuff. (Well, gross, really, but believe me, he has quite a talent for it.)

But, instead, I am torn up on the inside. And since I just shared with you yesterday how gentle-spirited my oldest son is, I had to tell you this story, instead, so that you could seethe alongside me.

My sweet boy,
In terms of this post and this blog being written for posterity's sake, let me just tell you, Dear Boy, I would be relieved if you put it away in your memory and actually forgot about this entirely. I certainly do not write about it to keep it at the forefront of your memory. But, in the spirit of why I write this thing - this blog - at all, I want you to see how you have been shaped, molded into the man you will become by everyday events when you were just a boy. And I want my girls to see that the emotions they experience as a mommy one day are some of the same feelings I struggle with today. It is an amazing cycle, this life we live. And it wasn't until very recently that I discovered quite poignantly that it truly is but a circle of life. (cue Lion King music)

So, my husband advises the kids on making friends as part of his annual get-ready-to-go-back-to-school tradition. He encourages them to find a stranger, walk up to said stranger and say, "Hi. My name is Mr. T. Will you be my friend?"Now, let me tell you I have actually used this very line in a college setting and made a friend true enough to stand beside me while I married this counselor of companionship mentioned above. At times, it really does sound fairly hokey. But, it's worked for me. I worry about the awkward presentation as the children role play with each other these words at the dinner table, but I pretty much don't get involved in this whole annual exchange because - well, it really did work for me.

My sweet boy eyed a kid at school yesterday. He came home and resolved in a pact with his dad last night that today he would approach this boy in his class and offer the olive branch of friendship in his direction, hoping for the best. True to his word, as every good gentleman is, he followed through with his plan. The little boy said no. My sweet son tried valiantly to control the tears that welled up in his eyes as he also carefully declined sharing his friendship making story from today while we all chowed down on beef stroganoff and green beans. He said he didn't want to tell. Well, that doesn't set well with Daddy. (Meiners said the same thing over a banged up nose injury yesterday, and let me assure you, eventually the little dude fessed up on how he mangled his nose while swimming.) Anyway, T eventually told. And I could barely keep myself pulled together.

Now, we're trying to raise a man here. And we don't encourage outbursts of teary emotion. But, come on, people. This man-in-the-making is but still a young boy. And I seethed inside. After composing myself and a bit of self-reflection on a walk with the family to cool down, I pulled Mr. T aside tonite after teeth brushing and had a talk with him. Every night at dinner I ask him what his favorite part of school was that day. And then I ask if there is anything I can pray about for him for that day. Tonite I explained that I would be praying for this boy in his class. And we did. Together. I prayed that this other boy would be blessed with numerous friends. I prayed that his heart might soften to the friendship of my son. I prayed that God would protect T's heart from hurting. I prayed that He would grant me wisdom and a spirit of forgiveness. I asked Mr. T what he could learn from today and we agreed to never deny a person our friendship if we are ever approached with such a blessed offering.

Lord, help me.
In your name.~Angry (but trying to forgive) Mama

Posted by Karin @ 6ByHisDesign at 6:48 PM

5 comments:
Nan said...
I know that prayer took just about all you had to pray it! Mr. T is blessed to have you as his mom!
August 15, 2008 4:33 AM
Caroline said...
I agree with Nan, that prayer must have been hard, but what an example you are setting for Mr. T. You are a great mother.
August 15, 2008 5:20 AM
Bella's momma said...
Wonderful post! Funny and thought provoking.
August 15, 2008 7:15 AM
~Trish~ said...
Ugh kids are so mean sometimes and I'm sure he didn't intend to be mean but sheesh!!! Hopefully his day today goes better!!!
August 15, 2008 8:22 AM
Nichole and Scott said...
Oh Karin, I know how hard this was for you. It's no fun to see your child in pain. Especially when they were trying to do something nice. I probably would have gotten all ticked off said something not so nice in the heat of my "Frizzy" protective moment. You, did everything just right. You modeled good behavior and acted as God would have wanted. You taught your children/son that life isn't always perfect and that it sometimes hurts BUT it's how we react to things like this that matters. Showing him to once again turn to God and prayer was perfect. I pray that I can keep my cool when I'm faced with similar situations for myself and my daughter in the future.
August 15, 2008 8:54 AM

TWINS...Again!

Got your attention. Didn't I?

Yes, originally I was planning a post called: A Little Light in the Darkness. That's because, on Thursday, as I basked in the glory known so suitably as 'comment crack' at my BAThW party, our faithful canine friend Riley (posted about here) passed away. T took it the hardest. (Well, he and Daddy.)

Today, after having yet another (real life) party for Pookie last night (Happy 7th, Baby!) and a party today for my mom (Happy 65, Mom!), we suddenly decided it was the perfect day to go buy a new dog. So, we made the 75 minute trek into the country to the current home where our next little cuppa sweetness has lived the first 8 weeks of his young life. We prayed as we left the driveway that God would pick our friend for us and that He would make His choice clear. We also discussed possible names. Considering the current infatuation with Star Wars that the whole family (read: two 7 year-olds and one 4 year-old) has undertaken, we could do no less than a name like Obi-Wan, right? There were two dogs left from the litter. Both boys. Two chose one and one chose the other. The one who chose alone was T. And he wanted the one that most resembled Riley. Actually, he wanted to name the puppy Riley, but we discussed that and reasoned why it wouldn't work.

With stoic resolve, T insisted he could live with the decision to bring the blonde one home. "I'll just choose the next time, Mom." His eyes already starting the tell-tale transition to red at the rims. Um, Buddy. Next time will be in, like, 13+ years.

Thanks to a little sweet talking. From me. And my mother-in-law. We are now the proud owners of Obi.

And Luke.

How could it have gone any other way?

I already look exhausted, don't I?

Bienvenudos

Welcome!
Bienvenudos!

That's pretty much all the foreign language I know. But, believe me, I use it. A lot.
OK, maybe not.

Nonetheless, WELCOME to my little corner of the world! I am so excited to have you all stop by! I've been preparing for a few days now, ever since returning from our recent trip. We were fortunate enough to travel to China with the kids!

Here Pookie, our oldest daughter, accepts an award after teaching Chinese to a group of Americans!

(OK. It's Epcot.)

After dominating in their respective Olympic events, the three older kids were fortunate enough to snap a photo alongside the now-legendary Michael Phelps.

Each of our children excels at sports. We're proud of 'em like that.

Here's Mr. T practicing one of his famous death-defying jumps. To think he just began training this month and only used the pool in his modest midwestern backyard. His Olympic story tugs at the heartstrings of so many mothers (well, his mother's, at least).





(*ding dong*) Oh, I'm so embarrassed. There's the doorbell. I thought everyone had already joined us. I'll be right back.

Well who do we have here -

Spidey found my wallet out on the lawn. One can never quite tell what I've got going on around here. It's a good thing I have a super hero in my midst to help tow the line. Ah, Spidey. Thanks for saving the day again! Come on in and sit with the guests!

We are surrounded by fame! And good fortune.

I never know what's going to happen. I choose to embrace the challenges, though there are many. We're home now, nevertheless, enjoying our Tropical Polar bears in our FREE zoo:

Chasing marathon dreams while gazing at the beautiful Clydesdales at the FREE Grant's Farm.

And loving the home of The Original:

I don't even need to travel to China.

St. Louis is Home Sweet Home.

Day Before the Party

Anyone else not really surprised that I'm up at this hour, after having enjoyed a sweet little cup of chocolaty-coffee goodness at 9:00 at night? I told you I had a lot to do!



We've been busy decking out the place with our fancy art.




Perfecting our showin' off skills.




Inspecting the toilet bowls.

And cleaning them, as necessary.

Like I said yesterday. With this household, one never knows what they're gonna get. I better go buy that candle up at the WalMarts.