Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Quack, Quack
This picture looked much better on the phone before it was sent. They still look cute even though they are stretched a little. Anyway, I took the munchkins to feed the ducks today. I guess they haven't been fed in a while because they were crazy. Savannah got bit by an overly agressive goose which scared her. She cried for a few minutes and sat the rest of the time. The geese and mallards were a little too confident for my comfort. I had a fear of ducks for a while there but John helped me over come that fear. Well after today, that fear creeped back. Too many hungry critters getting too close for my comfort.
After feeding the crazy feathered friends, we ventured over to the small island thingy where Aidan and Savannah decided to throw rocks. What is it with my kids and throwing rocks? After many arguments with Aidan, we headed to the park. BIG MISTAKE! I attempted to conquer my fear of swinging things (thanks to the change in my equalibrium) and got on the swings. That made me sick/dizzy and I wanted to go home. I toughed it out long enough for the kids play and get filthy. So we're heading out of the playground and Aidan decides he's going to throw the biggest and loudest tantrum he's ever thrown. It was embarrassing and annoying but I won! I probably looked like a horrible mother but I got both kids out of the playground and in the car. My trick? I walked away. I told him goodbye and Savannah and I started walking to the car. Of course that pissed Aidan off even more but he eventually came running and crying to me. Aidan earned himself a good nap after that and Savannah and I got one too (my reward). Woot! Aidan woke up in a much better mood and was able to enjoy the rest of the evening.
Too bad I can't say the same for Silas. Poor kid was sent to bed 30 minutes before his regular bedtime. Same story, different day with him.
I do love my kids and am very blessed to have happy, healthy and active kids. It's just sometimes they test my patience a little too much. One day I'll look back and wish for days like this again because that means that they want to spend time with me. The days of being too cool to hang out with mom are quickly approaching.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Random
I found this picture on my computer while I was posting the previous pictures. Weird, very weird.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
pictures and songs
Ok, this is the umpteenth time I've blogged today. Silas is in bed so Aidan and Savannah and I decided to have fun with the camera. Here are the results.
Savannah being goofy and Aidan hiding in his shirt. He loves this picture.
Savannah singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"
The rare photo with me included. We had fun taking this. It took several tries to get the right one. Poor Aidan kept getting cut out of the picture.
One last video of the two singing together.
The Park
I took the kids to the park this evening. The weather was nice, the ducks were extra friendly and the kids behaved. They usually do at the park. It's just hard keeping up with all of them. Anyway, they pretended they were pirates on the Pirate Ship. They were really cute running around and Savannah making her pirate noises. If they behave tomorrow afternoon, then we'll go back and hopefully this time I'll remember the camera.
Silas lost his 8th tooth this evening. We were on our way home from Grandma's when he asked me to pull his tooth (it was barely hanging in there). I reached back (I was driving) and yank that sucker out. He's expecting $600 and a pair of heelies (sp?) from the tooth fairy. That child has high expectations. He claims he looks like a vampire now. He's my snaggletooth.
Silas lost his 8th tooth this evening. We were on our way home from Grandma's when he asked me to pull his tooth (it was barely hanging in there). I reached back (I was driving) and yank that sucker out. He's expecting $600 and a pair of heelies (sp?) from the tooth fairy. That child has high expectations. He claims he looks like a vampire now. He's my snaggletooth.
Savannah sings
Savannah has a new bedtime routine. Shelays down, crawls under the covers and then sings her favorite songs until she falls asleep. Her favorites are Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Monkeys jumping on the bed, Itsy bitsy spider and The Alphabet song. She's so cute. She's been doing this for almost a week now. She's the only child of the three that enjoys singing. Aidan loves to dance and is really good at it. Silas hasn't found his niche yet. Maybe he'll play an instrument. I took piano growing up and hope to take guitar lessons next semester. Maybe he'll want to play one of those but with my luck it'll be the drums he'll enjoy. The violin would be nice.
I'm invisible
I've given up for now on trying to update the look of this blog. I have spent several nights trying to upload new templates and mess with the code just to get the right look and everything in the right spot. I have a BS degree and can write computer programs but cannot figure out the stupid template on the blogger thing. I feel so stupid.
I feel so down today. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, the fact my caffeine hasn't kicked in yet, crazed hormones or the lack of respect I get from my children and husband. I just feel like a lousy mother and wife. I read other blogs about how wonderful their children are, how wonderful their husband is, blah, blah, blah. Do these other moms not have to deal with the same crap I have to deal with? Am I the only mother out there brave enough to admit that being a mom and wife sucks at times. I lay awake at night wondering what I can do to make things better. I wonder if my mom felt this way and how did she deal with it. I'm a single mom from 6:45 am until 9:30 pm a majority of the week. When John is home, he's either sleeping or playing games on the computer. Yes, I too play on the computer but I know when to quit and walk away. I just feel like I'm doing most of this on my own. And how can I get my children to respect me when their father doesn't give me the respect I deserve? I'm sorry I'm using the children's blog to vent. I usually save this crap for my Myspace account but I'm sick of reading and hearing how perfect everyone lives are (or they at least want it to appear that way) and let other moms know that there are other moms out there who feel the way I do and deal with the same crap that I deal with on a daily basis.
Anyway, I've received this email from several people and I had to share. It made me cry a little.
Invisible Mother..... (and I sure do feel invisible)
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ... Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
I feel so down today. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, the fact my caffeine hasn't kicked in yet, crazed hormones or the lack of respect I get from my children and husband. I just feel like a lousy mother and wife. I read other blogs about how wonderful their children are, how wonderful their husband is, blah, blah, blah. Do these other moms not have to deal with the same crap I have to deal with? Am I the only mother out there brave enough to admit that being a mom and wife sucks at times. I lay awake at night wondering what I can do to make things better. I wonder if my mom felt this way and how did she deal with it. I'm a single mom from 6:45 am until 9:30 pm a majority of the week. When John is home, he's either sleeping or playing games on the computer. Yes, I too play on the computer but I know when to quit and walk away. I just feel like I'm doing most of this on my own. And how can I get my children to respect me when their father doesn't give me the respect I deserve? I'm sorry I'm using the children's blog to vent. I usually save this crap for my Myspace account but I'm sick of reading and hearing how perfect everyone lives are (or they at least want it to appear that way) and let other moms know that there are other moms out there who feel the way I do and deal with the same crap that I deal with on a daily basis.
Anyway, I've received this email from several people and I had to share. It made me cry a little.
Invisible Mother..... (and I sure do feel invisible)
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ... Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
So you're a . . .
new Tiger Cub Den Leader. Yup, that's me! Like I don't have enough to do already, I signed up to be a den mother. I have six little 7 year old cubs to entertain and guide over the next four months.
I really don't know how this got started. I picked up Silas and was informed there was a boy scout meeting and he wanted to join. I rush to get the other two little munchkins from their Grandma's and hurry up to White House. After sitting through the meeting, fighting Aidan and Savannah the whole time, none of the parents would volunteer to be the den leader for these six boys. I was not going to disappoint Silas so I volunteered. After my couragious act, two other parents volunteered (at least they said they were going to). So now that I've paid mine and Silas's dues, I have to go through some online training and then get my little pack together every week or so and start learning how to "Search, discover and share" together. Does this mean that I get to wear a sexy khaki shirt and orange neckerchief?
Life is good.
I really don't know how this got started. I picked up Silas and was informed there was a boy scout meeting and he wanted to join. I rush to get the other two little munchkins from their Grandma's and hurry up to White House. After sitting through the meeting, fighting Aidan and Savannah the whole time, none of the parents would volunteer to be the den leader for these six boys. I was not going to disappoint Silas so I volunteered. After my couragious act, two other parents volunteered (at least they said they were going to). So now that I've paid mine and Silas's dues, I have to go through some online training and then get my little pack together every week or so and start learning how to "Search, discover and share" together. Does this mean that I get to wear a sexy khaki shirt and orange neckerchief?
Life is good.
Safety Day
We spent our Labor Day in White House visiting Saftey Day at the park. The boys were able to ride the small firetruck after watching the jaws of life tear apart a car.
Oh Silas, My Silas
What am I going to do with this child? Monday night, while the kids were supposed to be brushing their teeth for bed, Silas decided to play barber shop and Savannah was his victim. I know the outcome could have been really bad - his goal was a mohawk, and Savannah looks adorable in the end, but did he have to cut off all the curls and long hair I've been waiting for her to grow over the past two odd years? Monday I was finally able to french braid her hair and it look adorable and she loved it. For once she kept her hair styled longer than 5 minutes. We made it a whole hour and a half.
In less than 5 minutes and lots of giggling, she turned into this. By the way, John is the one who discovered them.
These pictures were taken last night. I had to finish what Silas didn't get a chance to complete (which wasn't much). My baby looks so grown up now. She likes her new 'do' and it does look cute on her. All the scissors are now hidden.
In less than 5 minutes and lots of giggling, she turned into this. By the way, John is the one who discovered them.
These pictures were taken last night. I had to finish what Silas didn't get a chance to complete (which wasn't much). My baby looks so grown up now. She likes her new 'do' and it does look cute on her. All the scissors are now hidden.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Random photo
John begged me to stop at Worsham Market (what's left of it) in Hendersonville on the way to White House to take this picture. I'm not really sure what he's going to do with it but it is odd so I thought I'd share. The market burned down and someone left a shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot - why, I don't know. But nature decided to turn it into something somewhat pretty. -random
More to come. . .tomorrow.
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