Stompers Make a Comeback!

Do you remember Stompers?

 You know, those great little monster trucks that went by themselves. They would go at regular speed with a normal battery, OR you could hook them up to a 9 volt battery and they would ROAR!! Good memories.

I hadn’t seen them in years when Dan and I happened upon some while Christmas shopping. Dan instantly decided we needed 3.  For the kids, of course....

We took them home and wrapped them up. We let the kids open them on Christmas Eve. They were so excited. Well, ok, Dan and I were excited. I think exciting toys are a little more prolific these days than when we were kids. Rylie was really sweet and acted grateful, but she would much rather have had something to do with ballet….. It was fun though. We had Stomper races and monster truck competitions.

The newness has since worn off, and the Stompers are in the bottom of the toy box. The other day Kade came across one. He’s our monster truck enthusiast. He can play with them for hours. He was in the kitchen happily playing trucks with Elijah. They were having a great time when Kade decided to use Elijah’s head as a mountain for the Stomper to go over. Which wasn’t such a bad idea except Elijah as lots of hair…..

 Now those Stompers, they're not cheap toys. Oh no! They're good toys, they're 4wheel drive. Not just two wheels spin, all four wheels spin at once. Which is much better when they are on your child's head eating up his hair. They take in more hair that way. And Kade couldn't have put it in the back of his head, Oh no! He had to set in right in the front where everyone would be sure to see the chopped off bald spot. And, Oh yes, I had to chop off his hair because Stompers don't go in reverse and let out the tightly held hair. Elijah didn't appreciate having a 4wheel drive Stomper hanging off his forehead at all. Some boys would have thought that was cool, but he's not to that age yet. He just knew his hair was being pulled and he was being bonked in the forehead by an unidentified object every time he moved. I did what any desperate mom would do and I got the kitchen shears out. (They were the closest scissors handy.) Elijah suddenly got really nervous. Not only was there an monster truck hanging off his head, banging him in the forehead and pulling his hair, now his mom was coming at him with a large pair of kitchen shears. I had to have Rylie hold him down while I did the worse job of hair cutting I've ever done in my life. (It couldn't have been the kitchen shears....)

Elijah, not really caring much about how he looked, was very happy to be free from me and the Stomper. Kade, on the other hand was not so happy that there was a large amount of hair stuck in his truck. 

Maybe we could nickname it, “Woolly Mammoth!”  Ha! I crack myself up.

All in a Day's Work

I stopped at The Shop the other day on my way home from grocery shopping. Dan was watching 3 of 4 of our children. I walked in to find him standing in the garage holding Elijah's pants in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. He wasn't smiling. "He had a blow out," he stated. "It's really hard to get anything done around here," he added.

 I smiled. If he only knew.........

I was teaching a piano lesson the other day. My two older children are great about watching the baby while I am teaching. Rylie wasn't feeling well, so I gave Zack the task of keeping an eye on Elijah. He was playing the Wii also. I should have remembered that 9 yr. olds are not good at multitasking.

About half way through my lesson, Zack shouts, "Mom! Elijah's naked!" "Oh no," I thought. Elijah's new talent is taking off his own diaper. (Of course, if my child wasn't running around like a hillbilly in just a diaper this wouldn't have happened.) Before I could get up and take care of my child who had been running around naked for who knows how long, Zack said even louder, "Mom!! He pooped!!" Of course he did. He would wait until his diaper was off and I was in the middle of a piano lesson before he did that. "Where?" I asked, not really wanting to know. "On the carpet, right next to the tile," was Zack's reply. Right. Right NEXT to the tile???? Really??? I told my piano student we were taking an indefinite break.

I went in there to find that he didn't just poop on the carpet, but had decided to play in it. He had rubbed it into the carpet and spread it on to the tile. I was horrified. My first thought was, "Zackary, how did you not notice this?" My second thought was, "OH NO! DID HE EAT IT TOO???????" How was I to find out? Did I really want to find out? I mean, do you really WANT to know if your child just ate poop??? I decided to smell his breath. Surely that would be a dead giveaway. It's really hard to smell your child's breath while holding him at arms' length so as not to get poop on yourself because eventually you HAVE to go back and finish your piano lesson. I was grateful to find that his breath still smelled sweet. I decided to believe that he hadn't tried it. We're all happier that way.

I carried him down the hall and plopped him in the tub. I called Zackary and told him that he was NEVER playing Wii again in his life, and to watch his little brother. I quickly cleaned the carpet and tile, all the while thinking we needed to get the professionals in here. I then washed my hands, regained my composure (if that's possible) and finished my piano lesson.

Yep, Dan, I'll take a blowout any day.... =)

The Woodshed With God

I've spent some time on my face before God this past week. He's been reminding me what a wretch I am.

I find myself being critical of others. Often. Too often. It's so easy to find fault in others. For one thing it makes me look better if someone looks worse....

Often. Too often, God steps in and shows me that the faults I find in others are the same faults I have in my own life.

Last week, someone I love was crabby, quite crabby, unusually crabby. This individual is usually very nice. I reacted with some crabbies myself. I felt crabby for crabby was quite justified. I gave all kinds of reasons why this person was acting so - "terribly" -  and why they shouldn't be, and how it was affecting others. And oh, I felt pride build up in my heart, because I was being a much better - "kinder" -  person.

Then I went home.

Alone with my Heavenly Father.

And He spoke to my heart, quite loudly.

He informed me that so often I let my circumstances, or my children, or my mood determine my behavior. I'm pretty good at being kind most of the time in public, but what about every day with the people whom I love the most..... What about when my day is not going as I planned it, or my children are acting like they were raised by apes, or maybe not raised at all, or my husband doesn't do what I want?
At those times I can be:

 unkind.

 crabby.

I am a wretch before a Holy God.

How I need Him! I need Him to create in me a new heart, new eyes, a new perspective. Sometimes I am sure he allows people around me to act unsavory to show me my own heart. Oh! But I'm grateful he does.

I'm so in awe that the Creator of the Universe cares enough about me to take the time to speak to my heart and "spank" out the grime that looks like me, and replace it with righteousness that looks like Jesus. I'm glad He's given me 4 precious children and a sweet patient husband to practice on.

I don't just want the ones outside my home to see Jesus in me, I want the ones who live with me to see Him....and WANT Him because they can see Him...and He is beautiful. Even when I am not.

Thank You Lord Jesus for this everyday life. Thank You that when I mess up today there is a new  tomorrow. Thank You that You are making a new me.

Farming in my mind

I've decided I want a farm. A mini farm that is. I want chickens and a cow. I want chickens for eggs and the cow for meat. My hunk of a husband says that there's no way the children or I would eat Lou Lou Bell after we raised her, but I think we would. Maybe we just won't name her Lou Lou Bell. Maybe we'll just call her Steak, or Hamburger, or something less personal.

I think I want a goat too. I'm not sure why. I certainly don't want to milk a goat! Maybe we would keep the goat around to eat the children's toys that they leave in the yard....  Maybe we could eat the goat too. We'll name him Lambchop.

Actually in reality I probably don't want a farm at all, but in my mind I think I do. I do this every once in awhile. I think I'm a farmer in my mind. The last time it happened, I wanted a garden. My sweet husband who knows me better than I do myself suggested we start with a pot garden. (Just for clarification that's not a garden where you grow "pot.") It's the type of garden where you have 8-10 pots of plants on your back deck. I excitedly planted my plants thinking of all the salsa I was going to put away for the winter. I think I got one tomato that year. I don't like to water or care for plants. In return my dear plants didn't want to give me any fruit.

Dan sweetly told me that spending the money at the farmer's market was probably more cost effective than growing our own produce. So since that time, I go to the farmer's market in the summer and to the grocery store in the winter.

Time makes me forget though, and now I'm sure I want a farm. We just won't have a garden, we'll have animals! Of course, I won't even let my children have a dog because I don't like animals. But I'm sure it will be different once we have our farm.....

We live in the middle of a neighborhood right now and Dan says we are NOT having a backyard chicken coop. (I tried that one last week.) He's taking the "someday approach." "Someday when we have a few acres you can have your chickens and cow," He tells me.

Until then, I'm going to dream about my farm.......and shop at the grocery store.