the monster has left the building

How to get rid of Monster Mommy in 6 easy steps:

First, recruit backup. A Nana is perfect for the job.

Next, give them a Popsicle anyway, even if they didn't eat their lunch.

Then, take one of these to wash off the Monster smell. Do not skip this step.

Don't forget to have one of these. Or, if Monster Mommy is really mean, have two.

Also, be sure to notice the peonies blooming in your front yard. Monster Mommy can't prevail in their presence.

Finally, remember...you are loved anyway.

Repeat if necessary.

can I have your attention please

Emily has been abducted by Monster Mommy. I repeat: Monster Mommy is on the loose.

She is not playing with her children, not unpacking her messy house, smelling like a hairy factory worker and being generally mean to any person under three feet tall. She cannot be bothered with things like tying shoes or showing compassion. If anyone wants to ride their bike or have a popsicle, it is just too bad. There will be no fun allowed. She is too busy being a monster.

Pray for her swift and safe return.

It's not looking good.

In which I prove I have an addictive personality

Every now and then, my sister asks if we watch Deadliest Catch. If you've never seen it, it's a show that comes on the Discovery Channel about crab fishing. Every time she asks, I say no. But what I'm really saying is: No, we don't watch a show about fishing. An hour long show about fishing. An hour long show about cold, wet men who fish for crab from the deck of a cold, wet boat.

And I stood by that response. Until Big David won American Idol and Jim didn't propose to Pam and I found myself show-less. So one night last week, we watched Deadliest Catch. And now we can't stop. In fact, we spend nearly every commercial break discussing why:

• It comes on every night, multiple times.
• It has suspenseful music in the background that makes crabbing seem exciting and important.
• We have all these cool new words and phrases to use like "picket hook" and "captain's string" and "the crew is back at the rail".
• The bad words are bleeped out. Some sentences are just one long bleep.
• Sometimes really dangerous things happen like someone gets hit in the head by a picket hook or the crane leaks hydraulic fluid all over the deck. Not to mention the hurricane force winds and the blinding rain...but that's like, sissy stuff for these guys.
  

This show has all the makings of a good story: competition, the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. It is fascinating to watch the way the captains handle failure and success. I keep telling myself I'll stop watching as soon as we see them catch a full pot. And then we did. And we found ourselves wanting to see it again. It more than justifies the high cost of crab legs.

We also got into this:
the man: I bet people are smarter now that we have tv.
me: What do you mean?
the man: Because how would we ever know about stuff like this otherwise?
me: Yeah. How would we ever know? We are like, so smart.

And then we remembered about books. All the books. All the books that aren't being read by us because we can learn it from the Discovery Channel.

Let's be honest. I would never pick up a book about crab fishing. I didn't think I'd ever watch a show about it either. But now I find myself with Deadliest Catch on my dvr and Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive" stuck in my head. That's the very appropriate theme song. From the show about crabs that I can't stop watching.

pre-school pomp

They graduated from pre-school on Friday. There was pomp. There was circumstance. There were red caps and gowns. And me? I was easy to pick out of the audience: I was the mommy rolling her eyes.

Not because I don’t love my girls or have tons of pride in what they’ve done this year. More because they are four. And not only do I think caps and gowns should be reserved for graduation from high school, but my girls aren’t really moving on to something different yet, as they will be in pre-K next year at the same school. So we’ll do it all again…except this time their caps and gowns will be white. The big time.
Even though I wasn’t a huge fan of the whole thing, I still managed to push my way to the front row and pull out the zoom lens. One twin made it from the diploma to the sign language Jesus Loves Me. The other ended up in tears, quietly exiting the stage during I've Got A Smile In My Pocket. Can you guess which one? I figured no biggie. She’ll have another chance next year.

Then last night as I tucked them in, one of my girls snuggled close and asked, “Mommy, will you stay with me forever?” Instinctive response? Absolutely, baby. Which is, of course, what I said. But I know I can’t really promise forever. I can't promise that something won't happen to take me away. I can't promise health or safety. I can't promise forever.

Mostly, I just considered the progression of life. There will be a day when I can't be with her in the ways that I would like. A day when she won’t really want me to stay with her. She might even want me to go away. There will be a day when it just won't be appropriate to have mommy right there, by her side.

Like with these girls. I have known them since they were 11. And now, they are graduating from high school. Back then, they were awkward and shy, giggly and fragile. And now they are adults…women with kind hearts, real cars and nicely painted toenails. They have majors and boyfriends and plans. Lots of plans.

And they all have mommies. Mommies like me who never thought it would come to this. But something else all these girls have? They all have Jesus. I’d like to think, as one of their small group leaders, I played a small role in them getting to know Him better. What an honor if that’s true. Mostly, it's a relief.

Because their mommies can’t go with them on their first day of college. She won’t pack their lunch. She won’t get a call from their teacher b/c they are afraid to go to the bathroom. She won’t take them to Chick-fil-a after Calculus. But they have a Savior who delights in them and promises His presence with them. He can go with them. He will go with them. He will be with them forever.

That is the only reason why a sentimental mommy like me can rest. Because even though this graduation wasn't real, the day will come when it will be. And I think my job as a mommy is to depend on Jesus: to allow him to meet my needs so I can meet their needs. And as they grow, they will be learning to go to Him themselves. Because He alone is the only one who can promise them forever.

What a relief.

introducing Little Debbie

Let me be clear: I am no dessert snob. I have friends who are dessert snobs and the idea of eating chocolate that comes in cellophane is nothing short of an oxymoron. When it comes to sweets, I'm pretty impartial. Not to say that I always like the sweets I eat...just that almost anything will do when the craving hits.

Enter Little Debbie.

Our relationship goes way back to high school when my girlfriends and I would go to the beach first week. You know, the first week of summer. Does everyone call this first week?

These girlfriends and I called ourselves HCAEB (pronounced ha-KAY-ub), which was BEACH spelled backwards. The oh-so-cool thing was that it was also our initials: Heather, Catherine, Alica, Emily, Brandy. Why we didn't just call ourselves "beach" I'll never know. Granted, beach is kind of lame. But compared to what we settled on, well...I guess that's just 9th grade.

We would go grocery shopping right when we got there (or maybe right before we left home?) which was a good thing because if not, we would have had to go the whole week without cool ranch doritos, cherry coke and several boxes of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls. I don't know which one of us started the Swiss Cake Roll obsession, but start it did. Since then I have ventured out into the other things Little Debbie had to offer: the fancy cakes, the zebra cakes, the fudge round.
This was the snack of choice I wrote about yesterday. Several of you commented that you didn't know what a fudge round is. Does this look familiar? Do you not know about Little Debbie? Is she not a nationwide friend? Maybe you've heard of the fudge round's mom, the oatmeal cream pie?

Anyone up for a snack cake?

a little more crazy

I bought fudge rounds today. I haven't bought fudge rounds since 1992.

I needed them, though, because the chocolate cake my mom left here from my dad's birthday is gone. Took care of that entirely by myself. She only brought half the cake. But still. And yes, I am looking forward to the mint chocolate chip ice cream tonight.

I don't know what's up with my sweet tooth. I've got a mouth full of sweet teeth.

I think its the house. I haven't named her yet. Well, not gonna lie, I kind of have. But I'm waiting a while before I start really calling her that just to be sure it fits. Kind of like how you don't wanna tell the fam the name of your baby before it's born because what if you change your mind and they've already ordered the monogram.
I've learned a lot about her over the past 3 weeks, though. I think she was a little reluctant about us coming in and changing things all up. She's pretty traditional...not crazy about change. Speaking of change, I took this photo last week. Then the Nester came and borrowed things from this room to nest up the rest of the rooms, leaving this room looking rather bare. Lots of rooms in this house. I wasn't sure if I would like that at first, as "the open floor plan" is kind of the thing these days.I've been enjoying it so far. There are lots of places to be. And I'm all about being. It also leaves a lot more places for toys to be. As you can clearly see, here on our table right off the kitchen.

Which brings me back to the fudge rounds.
Look at her. She's totally mocking me. It's all her fault. All this thinking and nesting and hammering and cleaning. I'm lucky my sweet teeth are my biggest problem. That and the whole house name commitment thing.

I will let you know when I've settled on one...in plenty of time for you to order that monogram.

it was only a matter of time

My husband is a youth pastor. Have I mentioned that?

looking for Stonehenge

A few years ago while working as a sign language interpreter at a local high school, I became friends with a math teacher whose name was Amanda. She was from England and had this spectacular accent that prompted students and teachers alike to constantly ask her to speak for us. She got a lot of Have you ever met the Queen? and Is Prince William as big a deal over there as he is over here? and stuff like that.

Sissy from Painting Love was Amanda's roommate, as we all worked at this high school together. When Amanda moved back to England, Sissy went to visit. And one of the things on their agenda was to visit Stonehenge, as Sissy had never been. Neither had Amanda.

I remember thinking What? You live in England and you've never been to Stonehenge? And it was strange to me that someone would live so close to something so cool and never go.

I unpacked my china today. It was wrapped in newspaper dating back to May of 2005. It has been boxed up since then. As I opened it, I thought about this post written by my sister a few days ago. So today, I unpacked it and threw away the box.

Because as strange as it is to me to live in England and not see Stonehenge, it is even worse to have nice china and keep it in a box. I know there are tons of other things like this that are right at my fingertips but I forget to notice them. Forget to enjoy them. I want to decide to notice, to purpose to look for the little stonehenges not yet visited that exist for me in my everyday life.

brought to you by the letter B

We spent some good time outside today. This little one insists on wearing dresses. No matter the occasion. When she gets on her bike, she likes for it to flow behind her like this.

Then, while unpacking the playroom, the girls found these. Of mine. From...a long time ago.
Look! It's Derek from Barbie and the Rockers. Not to be confused with Derek Shepard from Grey's Anatomy. Although they do bear a striking resemblance to one another. Notice the way Derek looks at Bee. He's always had a thing for her. And they were born with a mike in their hands.

For what it's worth, I just realized I have officially passed the age of my Barbies.

Enough about that. On to more house news. I'm finally beginning to think about that fireplace wall again. Remember the before?
I asked you for help with this room and you sure did deliver. We had painted the walls and the mantle, as well as the doors to the built-ins. Many of you recommended we remove the doors and so today, that is what I've worked on.
It's harder than you might think, as those little screws are all painted over. But here you can see one side with, the other without. I put a little horse on the shelf just to try her out. I think I like them door-less.

In keeping with our theme, I have to mention that my dad helped my man assemble the girls' bunk beds this afternoon. I don't have a good photo of the beds, so here's one of my dad.
He likes to make strange faces when he knows the camera is pointed his way.

Here's someone else who enjoys reacting to my camera as well as opening every single box in the playroom and trying on every piece of dress up clothing that comes out of them.
Buzzzzzz.

remember these?

This was the living room of our new old house back in March. I already posted about it once, but I've been flipping through photos to remember what it used to look like.

This was it on moving day morning, pre-truck. And don't go asking me for photos post-truck cuz I haven't taken any yet. But I will. Oh, I will.

Here's that sun room photo again, for you who never saw the before.

And from another angle. This was what it looked like when we bought it. I doubted that this room had hope at first glance. But upon further speculation...

Ahhh, the after. Like my Costco rug? That was the I'm Moving Into A House With No Carpet Tomorrow And My Kids Are Really Gonna Need A Soft Place To Play Rug.

It was a good moving day, as moving days go. While I spent lots of time pacing, pointing and kicking myself for wearing bright pink underwear that tend to peek out from the back of my jeans every time I bend over (and can you imagine how much bending went on during MOVING DAY?), my kids were busy getting to know our neighbors. Now that we live on a cul-de-sac with their cousin, they are going to be outside all day, all summer. Which I love.
They have already begun to make themselves very comfortable in that sun room, which is of course as it should be. And life continues as usual, in a new old house we are learning to call home.

moving eve

The Polly's are packed and ready to go. The bikes are in the back of my car. The diapers and wipes are in a safe, easy-to-access basket. I have brain-farted my way through this entire day. But it is finally almost over and tomorrow, I get to watch people that aren't me carry all my heavy furniture while I drink coffee and send my kids to preschool. Or something like that.

Farewell, sweet Sophie Marie. Be kind to your new owners. Feel free to reveal to them all of your quirks and creeks that make you you...but don't go blabbin' about how seldom I did the dishes. Or about how many dirty clothes we could fit on the laundry room floor. See, aren't you gonna miss us?

We will certainly miss you.

this is me, letting it be

So after reading your comments on my last post (which I loved, by the way), I've decided that blogging is definitely kind of weird. Pink Dreaming, you said it so perfectly when you commented about chatting with your blogger friend and how you simply knew more about her than she knew about you. I love that you slapped her on the knee and laughed like you were old buddies. But isn't that why blogging is so cool, too? Still, when you have a blog and someone reads it and then you meet them for the first time, its like they have an unfair advantage. The social scale is kind of off balance.

But you know what else I've decided? I think I'm gonna just go with it. So this is me, embracing the weirdness.
Actually, this is Andy Warhol me. Andy Warhol me with my U-Haul box. Because we're moving in 2 days. And I have nothing better to do than to take pictures of me and my big self.

prepare for the question mark

You know how when you were a kid and you said your own name 100 times in a row out loud and it started to sound really weird? And you wondered how in the world anyone could name their child that weird sounding name? But then you waited a few minutes and then said it out loud again it sounded normal?

That's kind of where I am with this blog.

I am honestly kind of weirded out that I have one. I've met several people lately with about 3 degrees of separation between us and they have said they read my blog (hi 3 degree away people!) which is great. And no big deal to me if you lurk. That's part of having a space on the internet as far as I'm concerned.

But it's kind of weird, isn't it? Right? I'm all Hi. I'm Emily. What's your name? And they're all Hi! I'm so-and-so and I really like your new house and the color in your kids room and my fingers are double-jointed too. And it's kind of fun. Until I realize Wow. I have nothing new to say to this person because they already know EVERYTHING ABOUT ME.

Okay. Maybe not everything. But you know what I mean? Is this weird? Or have I just said my name too many times in a row and I need to give it a bit and it will seem normal again? Does anyone else think this way? Am I asking the wrong audience?

31

Some of you may have noticed that I had a birthday yesterday. Last year, I turned 30. I dreaded it while I was 29. Then, when the actual day came, I realized I kind of liked 30. Granted, there was that ginormous surprise party thrown on my behalf. That helped. But I also realized, as the days and weeks passed, that I finally sort of felt like a grown up. And I liked that.

This year has been different. I am sick, for one thing. And we are moving, for another. This one kind of crept upon me from behind while I was packing boxes and blowing my nose, tapped me on the shoulder and in a slightly annoyed voice said, "Hey. You're 31 now."

It seems like once you finally feel grown up, you should get to stop having birthdays. But they just keep coming. One after the other. Every single year. It isn't as fun as it used to be.

One thing that did come from this birthday was a visit from The Nester. She has a name, which I won't reveal, of course. It's funny though...The Nester has kind of grown on me. I call her that a lot now when we're together, especially when we're talking house. And we talk house a lot. She helped me pick this out.
That one is in our dining room. She thanked me for letting her help me pick out light fixtures, stating it was the most fun she's had all week. Or was it all month? The walls are svelte sage, for those of you who may wonder. We have six nights left until we move to the new old house. I think I'm ready. I still haven't shown you the kitchen. I inherited some nice cabinets that I wouldn't have chosen if it had been up to me. But we couldn't replace them. So we've done some other things to make it ours. I look forward to posting about that.

But first I have to go pack up my current kitchen. And count the days 'til my next birthday. Or not.

my estrogen-filled weekend

I went on the women's retreat with my church this weekend. It was crazy bad timing...one kid had pink eye, the man was to leave town right when I got back, we are moving in a week. You know. Life is happening. If I hadn't already paid for it, I may not have gone.

Besides that, I was asked to officially be the unofficial photographer for the weekend. Which is kind of obscure and intimidating. I'm not so crazy about taking photos of people I don't know and it just wouldn't be cool to have 200 pictures of the women in my small group. Who, by the way, were awesome.
Here they are, posing for a group photo. Women get crazy when we are together for a whole weekend at the beach with no men or children. Or laundry. As you can see, it was easy to get some good shots of this group. My concern was getting enough shots of the women I don't know.

One opportunity came Saturday afternoon while hanging on the beach with a friend. I noticed some women from our group that I hadn't gotten photos of yet.
They were relaxing, talking, bathing in the sun near us. I hated to do the whole Hey y'all! I know you don't really know me that well, but don't you want to pose for my camera in your bathing suits? I thought the best I would get would be a couple of half-hearted smiles and a lot of groaning.

This is what I got instead.
I've never seen women jump up so fast. They were like middle schoolers.
They not only posed, they ran to the water to give me fun, action shots. It was awesome. Then, they did this.
I don't think some of them have done a cartwheel in years. There were a couple more frames in the middle, but they aren't the most family friendly shots if you know what I mean.

I had to share these, as it has had me laughing for a couple of days now. I just love how, when we are removed from the everyday, we give ourselves permission to be ridiculous and silly.

the writing on the wall

This painting is hanging in my current kitchen. I bought it from The Nester at a yard sale a few years ago. She sells great stuff at yard sales. And yes, she makes me pay. I make her pay, too. Well, sort of. It usually goes something like this:

Sister 1: "Ooo, you're sellin' that?"
Sister 2: "Yeah, you want it?"
Sister 1: "Maybe...How much?"
Sister 2: "Oh, you can just have it."

It goes both ways like that. And then one sister tries to convince the other to just take it but the other sister insists on paying. What generally ends up happening is we trade stuff and no money is exchanged. Usually mom is in the mix somewhere, too. She's the worst at buying all our stuff at our yard sales. She never ends up making anything when the 3 of us do one together because she spends all her earnings on our junk. Then she apologizes a year later when she re-sells them at another yard sale.

I think the frame of this one has been painted several times which makes sense because that's just what my sister does. As I said before, I have had it for several years. But just a few days ago, noticed something I had never seen.
Well, I thought to myself, I wonder what Psalm 40:5 says? Though I'm sure this signature wouldn't mean much on Antiques Roadshow, I felt certain it would mean something to me. So I looked it up. And it was a sweet reminder to me that the Lord thinks of me...too many thoughts to count. I am on His mind.

And just like that, I remember again how the Creator of the Universe likes to reveal Himself through unlikely people and unlikely things...even a yard sale painting hanging in my kitchen.

six more things

This entire blog is riddled with unimportant things about myself. I just wanted to get that out there. For some reason Heather from Mindless Junque, Tracey from Make Room For..., and Melissa from Higher Call have all decided they haven't heard enough unimportant things about me. So they have tagged me. And the fact that they all did so within the past 24 hours has caused me to believe I really need to do this.

I know I have been tagged before. I apologize if you have tagged me and I didn't play. It's just I felt as though I have revealed oh-so-many unimportant things already: my dis-like of spoons, my murderer escape plan, the naming of my house, the fact that I time myself in the grocery store, my strong aversion to many words that begin with the letter P...I'm a freak. It is a well-documented fact.

But there is more. So here I go.

1. My fingers are kind of double jointed. When I was younger and my friends were less polite and grown up, they would sometimes ask what was wrong with my thumb. And I have more than once been known to pretend my fingers were legs and my finger tips, feet. I can do a mean moon-walk. When I am bored, you know.2. I was a cheerleader in high school. I was the one they threw in the air to do basket tosses. I don't think they even call them that anymore. But it was so fun. And I always felt lucky that I got to be the one to fly.

3. I know The Wizard of Oz by heart. Partially because I have seen it so many times and partially because I have the script. In the form of a colorful, hardback book. That I found at a used bookstore. For $15. I know that might sound like a lot to you. But for me, it was a good day. A very good day.

4. I love maps. Sometimes I google map my house just to see where it is in relation to familiar places. It is important for me to have a sense of where I am, physically. I also love the weather channel for the same reason. While visiting NYC a few years ago, I sat on the bed in our hotel room and studied the map of Manhattan for...a while. And it was bliss.

5. I count on my fingers. In all situations. Every time.

6. I love minor league baseball games. When I was in middle school, we moved from our hometown in Indiana to the Quad Cities in Iowa. They had a minor league team at the time: the Quad City Angels. The field was beautiful, right on the Mississippi River. My dad and I would go and sit up high in the stands. Sometimes we'd get a program. Or popcorn. But mainly, we'd just sit. And listen to the baseball sounds. And I loved it.

So there you have it. Six more things. Tag, you're it.

Good Mom strikes again

Today Caillou's mommy was having a bad day. First, her car broke. Then, she lost her keys. There she is frowning. Which I guess for Caillou is pretty extreme if less than realistic. Where is the smoke coming from her ears? Where are the slanty eyebrows? Where is the clenched jaw, the one-word answers, the broken phone that she threw across the room because she just.couldn't.take.it?

Apparently even on a bad day, Caillou's mommy still talks in a sing-song voice and is really nice to her kids. Great, Good Mom even comes in animation. Oh to be a cartoon.

i have just...

The Office spoiler alert...read at your own risk.

• eaten my weight in rocky road ice cream and oreos.
• teared up when Kevin got The Office parking spaces back.
• second (and third, and fourth) guessed my tile choice for our bathroom.
• clapped and pointed at the tv screen when Jim pulled out a ring.
• wondered if we have food for the girls school lunch tomorrow.
• realized I still haven't had a shower today.
• packed my entire living room in my head.
• spoiled Debbie's enjoyment of her TiVoed Office by not having a spoiler alert earlier.
• called myself an idiot.
  

door failure. transplant needed.

Now that we have less than 3 weeks until we move, I revel in seeing any kind of progress over at our new house. I haven't popped in over there for the past few days to get some distance from the whole thing.

Turns out it's true what they say about absence and the heart growing fonder (as The Nester recently reminded me). I guess regular people would apply that to relationships. But it works in this case, too...as it has been encouraging and exciting to see the personality of our new/old house begin to take shape. This tulip only recently came out to greet us and I'm so glad she did. Isn't she lovely?

Another exciting development has been in the door department. The house was kind of in a door identity crisis when we bought it. Many of the doors were beautiful, like this one in the foyer next to the stairs.

And these, leading into the sunroom.

But all the other doors were just...doors. Flat, no panel, hollow doors. Nothing really wrong with that. Were they functional? Yes. Did they have personality? Not so much. They served their purpose faithfully for a very long time. But after hanging around for 45 years, they seemed a bit tired.So we gave them a face-lift. Actually, I guess it was more like a transplant.They weren't flown in on a chopper and delivered in a red cooler, but their arrival was exciting just the same.

There it is, in all it's new-door glory. The one on the right is still the old one so you can compare. I think they change the feel of the whole house. What a difference a door makes. Replacing them was such a treat. It wasn't a requirement that we do it. All things considered, we decided it was one of those things that would make a big difference that was worth it to us. And don't forget how tired those old doors were. Worn out, they were. It was the kind thing to do.