too old, too grey to lie

The Days have begun to go by at lightening bolt speed. Its summer and I am free from Home School these days. Gone are the mornings of getting up early to have to get a head start in school and devotions. They have been replaced with getting up early to go running, devotions and who knows what else. I'm just as busy as I was during the school year, but in different ways.
Ministry opportunities never cease to come. There has been a real unity among our women's group. Bible Study nights at our home have been rich. Once every month or two my husband speaks at our little community church. He has gotten a lot of positive feedback from those Sundays. I've been spending a lot of time with Kiree, the neighbor girl as well. Her mom has been ill for a long time. In the last month, Kiree's mom has broken bones twice. Kiree spends a lot of time caring for her. This is why its been so good for Kiree to spend time with our zany family. She gets out for fun and we all enjoy her company.
Now for what I have been dying to tell you all about! Recently I found out about a dynamic missionary type conference a few hours away. Immediately, I started making plans to invite my friends and take some of my kids. My husband put a stop to all of my enthusiasm reminding me that we didn't have good enough tires or a good enough budget to do this. Just when I thought it wasn't going to happen, my friend Elasta Woman volunteered to drive. She has new tires and good gas mileage. Though my husband was quite skeptical about my being able to go somewhere "cheaply", he is fully persuaded that Goat Girl and Elasta Woman can. He was getting a good laugh out of the idea of these women helping me to cheaply go. I didn't care because I thought he was going to buy it. Well would you believe, just as his heart was softening I got an email from the organizers only to find out that I was disqualified from going due to my age?! That's right! The conference is targeted for ages 18-30. They emailed me to tell me that ONLY ages 18-30 may go. I began to imagine drastic measures. A bottle of hair dye, some pig tails and teenie bopper clothes flashed in my mind. Surely with a little dye I could pass for 30! Elasta Woman laughed "What are they going to do? Card you at the door?" The idea of lieing to get into a Christian Conference where you are supposed to grow in your relationship with God seems like an oxymoron. Because of this, I have gallantly volunteered to watch Elasta Womans baby so she and Goat Girl can go together. Yes, there is a 30 something woman holding a bottle of hair dye and teenie bopper clothes throwing a temper tantrumn inside my brain. "Too old" she is yelling as she kicks and screams. The good news is that with her in there, there is no further room for big bad boogie balls. My husband has gotten quite a kick out of my not being in "the target range". He reminded me that there will be other conferences at other times and that fuming about such a thing will do me no good. Despite my chronic immaturity, I was smart enough to stay married to a wise man.

Recently, Speaking

Just in case your wondering, the volley ball was a lot of fun. It was a day for intense work outs. In the morning, Kiree the neighbor girl and I ran and walked almost 3 miles. That night, we played 2 1/2 hours of intense volleyball. I was REAL SORE when it was over. I also pulled a muscle while running and hitting a ball over the net. Yes, you heard right. I did, in fact, get the ball over the net several times. I was soon to discover that nobody played flawlessly and that as long as I was making an attempt, I was keeping up just fine with every body else. That morning I was reminded that all of us are a little nervous doing something new with girls we don't know. We're all a little self conscious. We're all in it together. OK, I know, I know, none of them had big bad boogie balls bouncing in their heads, yes, in that I was alone.
My daughter hasn't been in too many group sportsy things. Since she was fairly new to this stuff, generously I offered to not play Toby Mac for a week (whom I love and she does not) if she could hit the ball over the net while in play. She was pretty motivated and all the women loved it when she finally made it. The next time I upped the stakes. I told her if she did it again, she could play as much Pillar as she wanted all week AND I couldn't tell her to turn it down. The women loved that one! They all tried hard to give her ample easy shots (much to my feigned displeasure). Finally, I agreed to no Supertones for a week. As you might guess, I have put away my favorite pop Cd's and am currently being graced with the tune of "The Original Superman" or whatever the name of the latest playing Pillar song is. Due to this week long intrusion of sound in my home, I am in need of a mental diversion, hence my latest post.
Kiree the neighbor girl played great. She surprised me with her determination and power. Mist was like a hurricane. She knows how to do that fancy air jumping, power packed spike stuff. It was fun to watch. I have renamed my friend Hazel, "Elasta - Woman" because she was all over the place. With her long muscular frame, she could about be or stretch to anywhere to make contact with the ball. Silverbell could hit pretty powerfully from way back. It was even a bit of a novelty to come home with a "pulled muscle". Since I'm not known for my athletic endeavors, "a pulled muscle" made me sound kinda, well, sportsy. Moonbeam and the other children all survived.
Now that our old trampoline is up, the kids have been having a lot of fun on it. As you can see, my kid, "Art Dog", is pretty incredible! I have daily warned them that living on top of a tall hill is not an ideal place for a trampoline to be. I am praying nobody falls off and goes rolling down the hill - ug. I guess I'd better pray and assign double angel duty for that big toy.
Tonight is Bible Study night here. My Son, The Archer, is off at Wild land Fire Fighter Class. How exciting, my oldest baby is a grown up man.

Big Bad Boogie Balls Bouncing Around in My Head

Well, I've been having more trouble with my imagination lately. It all started a few days ago when I went running with my friend, Mist. She happened to mention that they are starting a women's volleyball night weekly and how excited she was about that. She invited me to join in the fun. Suddenly, I was Dorothy in the Wizzard of OZ and I was no longer running along that forest road. Time stopped and I was back in 7th grade. Memories rocked me like Alice Cooper used to. Now its OC Supertones. Wowee, I just love em'. I don't know how anybody can not love to rock to the OC Supertones. I just can't get my family to appreciate my taste in some Christian Rock. (I needed that diversion). OK, so anyway, I was back in 7th grade.
They were picking teams and as usual, I was last. This time, even though I was last, neither team agreed to take me. They began fighting over who had to. Eventually, they bargained for taking a good player along with me as the bad baggage. The good player happened to be a boy whom I had a crush on. Girls, it doesn't get any worse than that. It was a traumatic event that marred my desire for anything "sportsy".
Here I was again, life times later, being invited to play a sport with some other women. Mist tried to explain that it was "for fun". I'm not sure what else she said because I was in a semi comatose condition, other than for running that is.
The neighbor girl, Kiree, has taken to running with us. She is 13 years old and wants to get into shape for sports next year. She got REALLY excited. She and Mist spent quite a bit of time trying to persuade me to go. Since I was getting out of breath and needed all my energy to complete our running course, I told them I'd think about it. All the while a chubby and uncoordinated little 7th grade girl pouted inside my head.
Thoughts of volleyballs began to plague me. I even started dreaming about them. I had made up my mind I would find some reason not to be able to go. Still volleyballs haunted me. I asked Kiree, the neighbor girl about the person who was setting the whole thing up. The only information she has offered me thus far is that she is 115 lbs. That can't be good. Any female who weighs 115 lbs surely has to be sinister.
Casually, I mentioned the "v" word to my friend, Hazel, in conversation. She, too, was very excited about it. She insisted that there are other women like me who are just playing for fun. We talked about how it is important to form relationships with women outside of our group. I began to feel convicted. All at once I realized that I was being tormented by phantom volleyballs because I was running from something that God might be wanting me to do.
Later that day, I remembered how I learned to snowboard. I had been determined. For the first few days on the hill I kept flipping over hard. My backside was literally covered in bruises. I kept trying, determined. I kept catching the edge of the board flipping over and over and over again. Finally, in my desperation, I asked God for help. Little by little, He began to speak to my heart. "Turn your edge", He would whisper. "Lean back". "Shift your edge". Soon, I was carving down the hill. That still small voice led me through it. I was terrified, but when I listened, I eventually learned. I'm by no means a pro, but I love to carve down a nice green hill. Had I never stepped out and tried, it would never have happened for me. It also deepened my relationship with God in the process. I learned to step out and trust by moving my heel and toe edge back and forth and shifting my weight.
It dawned on me that I needed to use my faith in this area too. I may have some bad memories of playing sports as a kid, but that is no excuse for letting fear keep me from playing now. Though Monday may be haunting my subconscious and volley balls are still bouncing around in my head from time to time, for the most part expectation is beginning to replace my fears.

2 Timothy 1:7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

attack of the toothy vampire offspring

I'm not always sure how to respond to people. Partly because I am a weirdo, partly because well.... I guess that's about it. I'm just a weirdo. Take today for example. I had suggested going to the lake for our girls fitness/devotional day. As the day got closer, I began to obsess on how things were going to go. Suddenly, my mother (another one of my personalities), came out. I began giving the other women advice. "Make sure you bring water". I told one. "Please bring dry clothes for your children". I recommended to another. Every time I heard her come out, the other part of me started screaming "stop it!! You sound just like your MOTHER!". I guess you just get to a certain age and you evolve into your maternal figure. I don't know, but it feels a bit like a low budget horror flick. Not that I don't love my mother (of course I do). My mom rocks. She's great. She's cool. She's the best ever mom. She's most likely reading this!!! Anyway, its just that I am supposed to be the irresponsible, fun, care free one. SHE is the mature thinker who always packs everything into her "train case" and has it all ready at the drop of a hat. If you need anything, ask my mom. If you are hungry, she's got food. If you're thirsty, she's got water. If your broke, she can come up with funds from somewhere. If you need somebody to get a horrible stain out of your favorite, best ever outfit, Mom's got the solution. If you have any buggers, ear wax or other assorted grossities, my mother will do the job. She's always prepared with every remedy and possible answer.
I began to think about what these other women must be thinking of me. Here I am, badgering them to be prepared. It was quite frightening. Well, its OK, because after I told one of them to bring dry clothes for their kids, I neglected to have any dry clothes available for my own six year old. Thank Heavens, there is a little bit of me left after all.
And so, we embarked on having our girls day at the lake. I left early so I could fish with my friend, Goat Girl. I multi-tasked by balancing Moonbeam on my lap and nursing her while I casted and reeled. It was a nice excursion. I also considered baking a cake at the same time, but I had neglected to bring some flour along. It was a peaceful, beautiful day. The lake was calm and we laughed together over various topics. We imparted pearls of wisdom to one another which I am not at liberty to share.
We had a nice group of women. The picnic was fun. I read from "The Love Dare" and from Luke 19. The kids played well with the exception of my baby getting bitten by a vampire child who happens to be the toothy offspring of my good friend Hazel. What do you do when somebody else's kid bites yours and draws blood? You have to fight your maternal instinct to get upset. Of course the other mother feels bad. I am after all, an emergency room nurse. I'm supposed to be prepared to handle blood. Usually I am cool as a cucumber. Today, I was a bit frazzled. I was trying to smile and be polite at the same time trying to console my screaming baby. Finally, I shoved something into her mouth which I am not at liberty to discuss. She was much happier. In my maternal mind I was thinking "oh my God, my precious baby is bruised! she's bleeding! she's hurt!" All the while calm as a cucumber emergency room nurse is saying "it's just a flesh wound, suck it up." The polite part of me is attempting an odd looking smile which possibly makes me look uptight or constipated. I am trying to continue the chit chat, but it is sounding more like a confused babble. I don't remember much of what I said other than something like "what a nice day out, can you believe your baby drew blood?!
As you can see, up until the dreaded dastardly deed of the vampire offspring, it was a lovely day. Moonbeam was quite pleased to taste dirt along with smashed bananas (as pictured here).

warning from a fellow blogger

a very funny post

Friendly Midnight Hooligan

Working Mom Blues and The Case of The Boy Who Wanted to Cook Rice

As you may have guessed by the title, I am back in the saddle, working a 12 hour shift as an RN on the night shift at an unknown rural hospital. I've been swamped all night and am finally sitting down with a good cup of joe (thanks to "Nurse Happy Sunny Day"). I strongly had the urge to whine, fuss and throw a temper tantrum when I arrived at work due to my perceived work load, but I refrained myself. Patients, family and other staff may have become quite distraught themselves when the relief worker was found to be throwing a temper tantrum. Since I am too big to be disciplined, and my mother is living in another state, I reluctantly behaved.
Though I am an Emergency Room Nurse, I some times work in the Acute Care Unit. I much prefer the emergency room. This is mostly due to my attention deficit condition. I like the pace of moving people through and "fixing" them or sending them somewhere else to be "fixed". If I see some one for too long, I am afraid I will become too bored. Especially at night, it is rather painstaking to watch a floor full of patients sleep when I cannot be doing so myself. I quickly become bored and find myself once again longing for the diversion of the adrenaline driven emergency room.
When I arrived in town today, I was mortified to discover that my cell phone no longer dialed home. In fact, it didn't dial anywhere, but one place. I heard a recording that said "don't hang up! Your call has been diverted." It didn't take me long to figure out that we were late paying the bill and that this was some fiendish plan on the part of the cell phone company to collect if I wanted to call somebody bad enough. I contemplated telling them that I was stranded on a desert island or possibly on another planet and needed to phone home, but decided I didn't have the time or energy for such drivel. Besides, they would want me to promise them some money and since I am no longer in charge of the bills, I am happily clueless.
I was later surprised to receive a call from my teenage son asking me how to cook rice. I suppose they do not divert incoming calls, though perhaps they could if they really wanted to. They could try and collect partial payments from would be callers, kinda like a phone booth. I can see it now, "you really want to talk to your mama kid?.....give me a credit card number and I'll put it right through". Oh the nerve of these bill collectors. What child wakes up in the morning and says "Gosh, when I grow up I think I'll be a bill collector".
Well, any how, so my son asked for directions on how to cook rice. All ears of my co- workers were on as I described the process. When I finished that, I again rehearsed for the millionth time some general motherly instructions on how to survive a night without me there, how to care for the baby, and other annoying unneeded tips. Then I told them not to expect any calls because of the cell phone predicament. I wonder if patients and co-workers lose confidence in a nurse who hasn't paid her cell phone bill.
Well, I suppose I must be getting back to work. I fear what gooey, beastly scenes I may find upon re-entry to my kitchen in the morning. Rice without supervision can be an ugly finding. Even now, it may be invading the entire house. Sticky, gummy granules could be making their way like bugs into every room. I can imagine them stuck to the bottom to socks, spilled under the table and quite possibly flying like b52 bombers into unknown territory.