Sass Mouth!

Whew! My children are soooo sassy! I don't know whether to laugh or smack them half the time! I usually just settle on laughing... so here's hoping some of these will make you laugh, too.

Me: It says in your planner that you can write a telling sentence. What's a telling sentence?
Evan: I don't know.
Me: Come on, you must know what it is. It says right here that you do.
Evan: Nope, no idea.
Me: Didn't Mrs. Rust teach you about telling sentences?
Evan: I'm telling you, I don't know what a telling sentence is! There, I think I just said a telling sentence! Are you happy?

Grandmother: You need to tell me you are sorry for being ugly to me.
Chloe: Well, I would if you would just ask nicely.

Me: Chloe, can I please have one of your pretzels?
Chloe: Ok, FINE! But one is it! Don't ask for anymore!

Granddaddy: Evan, why do you eat waffles here at our house and not at home?
Evan: Have you ever tasted their waffles?!

Chloe scraped her leg on the concrete bleachers after I had told her for the millionth time to sit down and be still.
Me: I told you to sit down. That's why you hurt yourself.
Chloe: (loudly) This is your fault! Bad, Mommy! Don't hurt me again!

I'm still waiting on the call from child protective services.

Evan had a note in his planner that he was throwing mulch on the playground.
Me: Evan, what happened?
Evan: Well some other kids....
Matthew: Nope, no excuses. What did you do?
Evan: Well, these boys....
Matthew: I don't want to hear about other boys. What did you do?
Evan: I threw mulch.
Matthew: Thank you.
Evan: (super fast) because these other boys were throwing it at us first!
Matthew: I don't care who threw it first. You are not to throw mulch.
Evan: So, I can't defend myself?
Matthew: Unless your life is in grave danger you need to just walk away or tell a teacher.
Evan: It's not a big deal, anyway. People have to walk for 5 minutes

I'm glad you can find humor at the expense of my sanity:)

What Are You Afraid Of?

Evan is afraid of vampires. I take full responsibility for this due to my Twilight obsession. He can't stand to see pictures of them, see them on TV, previews with them on it, etc. This is difficult in our house, again, due to my Twilight obsession. To be fair, it's not just me, vampires are just so "in" right now. They are everywhere. There is a show on Disney called, "My Babysitter's a Vampire" and everytime a commercial comes on for it, there is much yelling and covering of ears that occurs in our house.

I try to reassure him that vampires are nothing to be afraid of. Vampires are not real. Some vampires are even nice, like Edward. He's not buying it. He does, however, consider me an expert on vampires. It is nice to be considered an expert on something around here. So, he asks me lots of questions.... like how are vampires created, do they really drink blood, do they use those pointy teeth to bite you? You know, things like that. Of course I know all those answers, many different versions of them, depending on the author of the book, but my standard answer is: "Well, vampires are not real. There are just a bunch of stories about them." I try to be as reassuring as possible. I did tell him that I was also afraid of vampires for a while when I was a child and that I slept with my covers pulled tight up to my chin as to not expose my neck and tempt any vampires that might be stopping by. He assured me that he covers his entire head, so he's good there. Then, he asked me if I was still afraid of vampires. (Afraid? No, silly boy, how can you be afraid of what you are in love with?) I told him, "No, because I know they are not real."

Then, he asked me a question that kind of stumped me for a second. "Mommy, is there anything you are afraid of?"

How do I answer this and not alarm him? How do I tell him that the thing I fear more than anything in this world was losing him or his sister or both of them? Am I afraid of anything? You bet. Child predators, drunk drivers, tall playground equipment, horses, ponds, swimming pools, sleds running into barbed wire fences, psychopaths, tornadoes, fires, bad drivers, rainy roads, faulty car seat straps, school bus drivers, flying baseballs, cancer, dogs, bees, snakes, black widows, faulty child-proof caps on vitamins, bicycles, cars driving too fast and children who go into the road, parking lots, diseases, serial killers, kidnappers, pedophiles, bird flu, swine flu, high fever, brown recluses, fire ants, allergies that have not manifested until now, malnutrition, burglars, school shooters..... I could literally go on and on.

But, I had no idea how to put any of this into words. When I was a child and even a young adult I was afraid of a lot. I have never claimed to be very brave. I was afraid of all the usuals... ghosts, monsters, vampires. I was terrified of someone breaking into our house. I planned escape routes in case of fire. I knew where to go in case of tornado. I did not take unnecessary risks. I was very afraid of being murdered. This was the fear that persisted into adulthood. And it is not just being murdered, it is being held captive and/or tortured first. It is the fear that I fear. Before I had children, I was most afraid of pain. I couldn't imagine ever being brave enough to endure pain for someone else. I hate to admit it, but I didn't truly believe when a parent said, "I would die for my child." I read a book called The Bone Collector  in my late teens, during my crime novel phase. It was a gruesome story and in one scene a mother and daughter are kidnapped and the abductor tells the mother that she must saw her own foot off to save her child. She immediately begins sawing. I remember thinking, I don't know if I could do that. Could I do that to save my own child? In this same thinking, I marveled that Christ would die for me. There is a hymn we used to sing in church that says, "Are you able, said the Master, to be crucified with me? Yea, the sturdy dreamer answered, to the cross we follow thee." I used to consider these words, guiltily. If Christ had asked me to die for Him, would I? Could I? How much pain would be involved?

But, as Evan asked me, "Mommy, what are you afraid of?" I realized how much my fears had shifted. Physical pain? I mean, sure, if someone were about to inflict it on me, I'm sure I would be afraid, but to consider it in the abstract... no fear. Death? My fears of death now stem solely from leaving my children, not of my own mortality or missed opportunities. My greatest fear is of something happening to one of them. I can easily say now that if someone told me I had to saw my foot off to save Chloe, I would not hesitate. I would gladly lay down my life to save one of theirs. In a heartbeat. It would be as easy as taking my last breath. It is no longer hard for me to imagine how Christ was able to die on the cross to save me. How He was able to endure torture, pain, humiliation for my sake.

What is unimaginable to me is: For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son. (John 3:16) When Jesus was dying on the cross, he called out to his Father and pleaded with Him. Isn't there another way? Isn't there any other way than for me to bear this? God said this was the only way.

That is a love I cannot fathom.

By the way, my answer to Evan? I told him that I worried about him and his sister because I was afraid of them getting hurt. That is why I was always telling him to be careful and making sure he had his seatbelt on and fussing about him walking out in front of cars in the parking lot. And I was pretty afraid of mice. They move so quickly, you know. One could just run right up your leg before you knew it.

Evan is now afraid of vampires and mice.

It's Soccer Time Again

Evan is playing Upward Soccer again and I have to say that I have been the worst soccer mom. I forgot the camera for the first game and this time the battery died after about 3 minutes. So, I didn't get many pictures.

That might be for  the best because right now, Evan seems to be on the Bad News Bears Team of Soccer Teams. Poor little guys. There are only 6 players on a team and we've already lost one, which leaves us with 5. And they are 5 of the least aggressive players I've ever seen in my life. We even did the "Be Aggressive" cheer on the way to the game today, but it didn't help.

The pre-game meeting.

The Spartans take the field. Notice how they are all looking different directions. Unfortunately this is how they look most of the game. This is actually a pretty good representation of their team this year:)

The real reason Evan wants to play soccer... Carson.

It looks like some fancy footwork, but I think he is really trying to get away from the ball. It accidentally got too close to him.

I think we might need to check that kid's birth certificate!



I love this picture. Especially the little boy on the green team leaping in the background.


I will try to do better and capture more soccer memories at the next game. We are having fun anyway. I'm still hopeful that their little team will improve as the season progresses. Even if they don't, it is not all about winning. They are learning about God and they are learning how to be gracious losers. The poor little guys had their heads down today, though, and that makes me kind of sad:(.



Be Aggressive! B-E Aggressive! B-E  A-G-G-RESSIVE! Be Aggressive!

I told Evan I was going to stand up on the sidelines and do this cheer, complete with the motions next week if he didn't get in there and go after that ball! His daddy promised to join in. Evan just wrinkled his nose up at us.

Paging Dr. Tinker!

Hmmm, not sure I'd feel very safe in this doctor's hands, ha!

Crash!

These pictures pretty much sum up our lives right now. Messy, busy, going nonstop, until we just crash! This is how Matthew arrived home to find Chloe today. At first he though she was just pretending to be asleep, but she wasn't. I was working about 4 feet away from her on the computer, where I had been for the last 3-4 hours. Where I have been every single Sunday since school started back for most of the day. Lesson plans, planning, teaching a new subject, new evaluation system, yadda, yadda, yadda. All of that basically equals an obviously neglected child. I feel terrible. Look at the spaghetti sauce on her face. The actual spaghetti was still smeared all over the counter as well. She had been busily making a "humungous obstacle course". I vaguely remember her saying, "I'm just going to lay down and rest a little." I noticed it had gotten quiet. And sure enough she had crashed out on the hardwood floor. Baby comb still in hand. So, I carried her to bed and I got back to work. I know the pictures aren't the greatest, but I didn't have time to edit. I'm sure you understand. Usually the hustle and bustle of the new school year wears off around Labor Day and suddenly I feel like I can breathe again. Not so much this year, but I'm hopeful that it will happen in the next few weeks. Maybe. Until then we will keep going... until we crash!

I have so much I want to write about. Not the least of which is the 10th anniversary of September 11, but I just don't have time to do it justice right now. Maybe soon.

Maybe. Until then I will keep going... until I crash!

Crash!