What I WISH my nuptials had been like

Now here are a bride and groom who are obviously SO delighted to be tying the knot, they can't make their feet behave.

Can I just say there is something about their unbridled joy that makes me jealous?

When I married Jeff at the ripe old age of 28, I was keenly aware of the standards of propriety to which I was expected to conform. I smiled at the right times, made certain that "The Kiss" wasn't, umm, passionate enough to raise any eyebrows and that my new husband didn't raise my skirt TOO high when he removed my garter at the end of the reception. I was a Southern lady through and through.

I'm not sure what's happened over the past 14 years, but I'm not THAT girl any more. I dare say if I'd known then what I know now ~ how rich married life can be, how delicious and satisfying the experience of sharing many years together, the rapturous thrill of gazing upon the face of a newborn that we created together ~ I'd have been dancing all the way to the altar and back.

Somehow, I don't think I could have ever gotten my groom to somersault in a tux, though.

A glory explosion in the teepee tonight

I was kissing G-man goodnight tonight in his teepee ~ a wonderful sixth birthday present a few weeks ago from his Nana ~ when he looked up at me with a puzzled look on his face.

"Momma, you wanna know what I prayed for tonight?"

"What, baby?"

"I prayed, 'Lord Jesus, thank you for this wonderful day. Thank you for my wonderful family and home. And when I die, do you think you could let me bring ALL my Webkinz to heaven with me?'"

"And what do you think He would say to that?" I asked, really not feeling like a big debate on exactly why we can't take all our material goods with us to our mansion in the sky.

"I think he would say no," G replied sadly. And then he brightened just a bit and said, "So I asked him just to fill them with His glory, so I never have to be apart from them for a SECOND!"

The boy does love his Webbies.

Yes, women ARE born this way ...

This is for any man who has ever wondered if the women in his world were hardwired to talk incessantly ...



My six-year-old son is fascinated by this video. He has asked me to replay it over and over since I first watched it yesterday morning. Each time, he stares at the screen the entire time with a look of curious delight on his face.

Soooo ... I decided to have a little fun with him last night.

"G, you don't know this, but that's the young lady you're going to marry one day," I told him.

Very quickly, the look of delight turned to one of fear.

"NO!" he exclaimed. "She talks too much!"

Oh, honey, we ALL do.

Little dancers

Aren't they BEAUTIFUL? The one on the left is mine, and I'm so proud of her and all her friends for the way they danced on Saturday. Such a sweet group of girls.

And what would YOU tell her?

The girls and I journeyed down to Little Rock this weekend for the Little Rock Feis. Along the way, S(9) was reading billboards aloud and asked, "Mom, what's an adult?"

"It's a grownup," I replied.

"So ........" she paused, furrowing her brows and obviously thinking hard about the next question. "An adult supercenter is a big Wal-Mart where they sell grownups?"

"Not exactly," I said, thinking VERY hard about how to answer the question I knew was coming next.

"Oh!" C(7) replied. "Stuff like wine and beer?"

"Yeah. That's it!" I answered, thankful she had bailed me out on this one.

It was an answer all three of us could be satisfied with.

Changing names

My blog has turned into nothing more than kid stories ... I would apologize for that except for the fact that I don't scrapbook or do a very good job of keeping up with baby books, and so this is ~ in a very real sense ~ my children's only record of their childhood.

Two stories about G:

School conferences were held today and as is my custom before meeting with teachers, I always ask the kids what they think I will hear when I ask how they are doing.

Driving home from school yesterday, I asked G what Mrs. B was going to tell me. "That I'm a perfect angel and she wishes she had a whole kindergarten class full of boys just like me," he immediately replied. The kid didn't even stop to think of his response which I found funnier than his actual answer.

"And how hard is Ms. B going to choke on her coffee when I tell her what you just said?" I asked him.

Again, an immediate response.

"Pretty hard, Mom. Pretty hard."

Can you stand one more??

This afternoon, he asked me out of the blue if it was too late to change his name.

"Yes, G," I answered. "Dad and I picked your name very carefully when you were born, and I don't want to change it. What would you want it to be?"

Wistfully (and very seriously), he answered, "Wrestle Fart Toot."

The things they say

S was talking to her Grandma Judy a few days ago and telling her that there are a number of Irish dancers from her dance school who will be competing in the Irish Dance World Championships being held next month in Philadelphia. This is the first time Worlds have been held on this side of the pond, and I believe if someone offered S a ticket to go, she'd be there in a heartbeat.

As the conversation went, Grandma Judy asked S if she had dreams of competing in Worlds some day.

"Oh, yes!" my girl gushed. "Maybe it will be in Ireland, and I can go see another country!"

Grandma Judy agreed that it all sounded like fun and asked if she might come along, too.

"Yes," S agreed. "If you're still portable, we'll be glad to take you along!"

Good night prayers

I was tucking G into bed tonight, and he asked if he could say his night-night prayers one more time. He'd already prayed with his daddy a few moments before but apparently had a few more things he needed to talk to God about.

After thanking God for the wonderful day and asking for a good night of rest, I was surprised to hear my precious five-year-old boy speak these words: "God, thank you for my wonderful family and my BFF's."

He went on for another couple of minutes thanking the Almighty for just about everything a little boy can be thankful for (including his sisters, can you believe?? and finally said "Amen" and snuggled deeper under the blankets.

"G, what was that other thing you thanked God for after your wonderful family?" I asked.

"Oh, my BFF's," he casually replied.

"What are BFF's?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Oh, you know, Mom. There are friends and then there are BFF's which are friends you like a WHOLE LOT MORE than your other friends."

"Oh," I replied.

And then he melted my heart with this: "Mom ... If you weren't my momma, I'd let you be my BFF."

Awwwwwww.

First Feis

S began studying Irish dance at the beginning of the school year, and this past weekend she competed in her first feis (a competition of Irish dancers and musicians; pronounced "fesh") in Branson. It was held at the absolutely gorgeous Chateau on the Lake. S had a blast and did very well, bringing home a medal for participating in her first feis and two first place medals for her performances.

We can't wait until the next feis in Little Rock in April!!

Our sweet dancer:



Applying the all-important sock glue to hold up the poodle socks:



Doing a jig:

Photos of campus

C and I ventured up to the university on Thursday morning to see how things were looking. Here's what we found:



On any other day, Old Main would be clearly visible from where we're standing.



A closer view of Old Main.



Just one week later, I couldn't believe the difference. Very spring-like weather brought out hundreds of volunteers, and nearly every stick of debris was removed from the campus. It was a neat sight watching so many people work together to accomplish the back-breaking work that needed to be done.

What a week

I know this is old news now, but the ice storm last week deprived us of power for several days, then I discovered that my computer had died a painful death, we took off for a weekend in Branson, and in general, it's been like a thousand degrees of crazy around here.

So, pardon me while I relive the drama of our ice storm.

We live in an older neighborhood of homes that are 30-40 years old. We have lots of well-established big trees, and they were not happy under the weight of so much ice. The sleet started on Monday afternoon, and by the next day, it sounded like a war zone in my neighborhood. Even indoors, I could hear the trees groaning under the weight of so much ice before they gave up their limbs. It was the creepiest thing I've experienced in a long time. At one point, something VERY LARGE fell on the roof over the office, and I heard one of my daughters scream. I was just sure something had broken through into the house. Thank God, that wasn't the case.

One of our neighbors lost a particularly large section of tree right outside their garage.



We camped out two nights in front of the fireplace. This was the first night playing Scrabble by candlelight.



I ventured into the hospital at 5:45 a.m. on Wednesday since I couldn't work from home. This is a view of the fountain area where many hospital employees enjoy eating in prettier weather.



Since we couldn't cook on our electric stove, Jeff snagged a bottle of propane soon after the outage so we could grill. We had a "discussion" on Tuesday about whether it was okay to put Pyrex on the grill (I didn't recommend it; he disagreed). We successfully warmed up a casserole for Tuesday night's dinner, but on Wednesday night when he tried to cook enchiladas, this was the result:



He cooked a great breakfast for us on the grill Thursday morning. What a great way to celebrate his 39th birthday!

Surviving

In case anyone's wondering about us, we're surviving the ice storm. The Great Ice Storm of 2009 as it will forever be known in our family. Northwest Arkansas looks like a war zone, and it will take weeks, if not months, for the devasation to be cleared away.

I have plenty of stories and photos to share, but they will have to wait until we have power. I'm typing this from a coffee shop right now. You will hear great shouts of gladness when the power is restored. I'm not counting on that happening anytime soon. Reports are that over 100,000 people are in the same boat we're in.

A hot shower will feel wonderful.

Please pray for us and all those who have been affected by this horrendous storm.

My guys

It's been so long since I posted, I nearly forgot my login a few minutes ago. The past few months have reached a new level of busy, and although I find myself in the midst of various situations thinking often, "I really should blog this," I fizzle out so early at night that writing is the last thing on my mind.

But when I downloaded this picture of my boys tonight, I knew it was time to post. These two guys have me wound around their little fingers in ways I can't even describe. They make my heart beat funny, and I get lightheaded when they kiss me.

Perhaps I should feel a little guilty about carrying on with two men at the same time. But I just don't. There's enough love in my heart for them both. And they're both okay with that :-)

From our family to yours ...

A little holiday merriment for your viewing pleasure! Enjoy!

American Girls, part 2

So much for my intentions to post the next day. Right before I left to take the girls to dance last week, my computer started smelling like it was on fire, and I've been having to beg, borrow, and steal computer time from the husband and kids. None of them are as unselfish with their machines as I wish they were (ha!)

So, the rest of the story ...

All the girls who had been chosen met in September for the first of several rehearsals and the moms were given a list of shoes, tights, slips, and other assorted accessories our daughters would need for the shows. What fun S, C and I had going shopping for all their necessities!

Even more fun was meeting such fantastic young ladies and their moms. For the duration of the rehearsals and performances, I ceased being "Sheryl" and became "Samantha's mom". Likewise, the other stage moms were known as "Kit's mom," "Addy's mom", or "Josefina's mom".

The only part of being a stage mom that I really didn't enjoy was not being allowed backstage once I dropped my daughters off for their call times. They entered through the stage door, and that was the last I saw of them until they appeared onstage, completely transformed by the hair stylists and a team of ladies backstage into young ladies from another era. Any mom who tried to sneak past Miss Nikki, the director, was quickly shown to the door. That was tough.

What was wonderful was seeing the amazing growth in confidence in S and C from the time of the audition until the time of the performances. S was so nervous on audition day, I was a little apprehensive she might throw up. None of that on show day, though! She awakened with a broad smile on her face and not one ounce of trepidation at the prospect of walking down a runway in front of a few hundred people. That alone made the experience worth it.

S summed it up best as we drove home after the second show on Saturday. "Wasn't today just magical, Momma?"

Yes, my American Girl, it surely was.

We were not permitted to take pictures during the rehearsals or shows, but I "sneaked" a few. Most were very dark and blurry, but here are a couple of the better ones. (There was a professional photog there, and I will be ordering better quality shots from her).

Each historical girl modeled several different outfits. This is Samantha's Christmas dress.

And this is the back view of one of Samantha's every day dresses. This is a big-girl version of the dress the Samantha doll wears when she arrives on some lucky girl's doorstep.

My American Girls

A few months back I was browsing the web site of an area arts center to see what kind of theater classes they offer for kids, and I saw a notice for upcoming auditions for an American Girl fashion show. They were looking for young ladies to model clothing in just two sizes, 6x and 10.

Completely convinced that neither of my girls would fit the height requirement, I decided that the experience of auditioning alone would be good for them. I have a theory that the sooner in life kids experience a little disappointment, the better. Nothing is ever gained by being a spectator in life, so I did a quick spiff-up after church one August afternoon and drove them to the arts center. I prepared them along the way that they would probably not be chosen, and if they weren't, it was no big deal. I told them that half the girls of northwest Arkansas would probably be there for auditions, and since there were only a handful who would be chosen, just to be prepared for anything. I assured them that I would be very proud of them just for trying.

We arrived about 15 minutes before the doors opened, and the line of mothers and their nervous daughters, many clutching American Girl dolls, already wound down the street. What we discovered was that not only had half of northwest Arkansas shown up, there were also girls from eastern Oklahoma and southern Missouri as well. This was a bigger deal than even I had imagined.

When the doors finally opened, and they allowed us in, it wasn't long before we saw little girls being turned away. Some didn't fall within the required height range. Others didn't have the necessary measurements around their midsection. When I saw a very beautiful girl sobbing, nearly having to be carried out by her mother, I began seriously questioning my own judgment. What were my motives for subjecting my own daughters to this?

We saw that scene repeated several times over the next half hour, and as I deliberated the pros and cons of taking S and C out of line and driving them home, I realized that both had made it through all the hurdles and were being invited into the auditorium to speak with the judges. They were given a brief set of instructions on how and where to walk across the stage, then given a question or two by the judges to answer. After that part of the process ended, we were allowed to leave with the promise that we would hear from the judges within a week.

At this point, we were hopeful that at least one of the girls would get a part but never dreamed that it would be both. You can only imagine my surprise the following week when I received an email notifying me that S had been cast as Samantha, one of the historical girls, and C as a Bitty Baby.

What an exciting moment it was as I shared with the girls the exciting news.

To be continued tomorrow ...

And I thought I was the only one

This guy could have been writing about me.

Changing the collective consciousness

Does this creep anybody else out besides me? This guy is NOT the messiah.

Wealthy beyond measure

I celebrated another birthday yesterday, and once again when my family began asking me several weeks ago about my wish list, I couldn't think of a single thing I wanted. Not one.

Gathered around the table a week or so ago, one of my daughters pointed out that she had almost 10 things on her wish list. "I have everything I have ever wanted and more," I explained. "I have Daddy, you guys, some great friends, a wonderful church, a roof over my head, and plenty of food to eat. What else could I possibly want?"

I've tried so hard to impart to my children attitudes that are in stark contrast to the consumerism that bombards us all daily. From every direction come messages that we must have have the best! the prettiest! the newest! the fastest! the coolest! the most technologically sophiscated! the most expensive! stuff available. No sooner do we get one new gadget out of the box and on its charger before something newer hits the market and suddenly the thing we have has lost its luster. It is no longer desirable to us, because our friend has something we regard as nicer.

What a trap.

Avoiding those messages is one of the primary reasons the televisions in our home stay off most of the time. I want my children to learn contentment. The kind that Paul wrote about in Philippians 4:10-14.

"I'm glad in God, far happier than you would ever guess ... Actually, I don't have a sense of needing anything personally. I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am" (The Message).

You can imagine my joy when last night before dinner, G-Man wanted to ask the blessing, and somewhere in the middle of it, he spoke these words: "And God, bless all the poor people and let them be rich just like we are. Give them jobs and food and money and a place to live."

May we all be filled to overflowing today with a sense of just how filthy stinkin' rich we really are. Not because our bank accounts say we are, but because of all that has been lavished upon us by God, the One who makes us who we are.

The best part of a spanking

A few days ago, the kids and I were running errands when G-Man remarked from the backseat about some mischief he was thinking about getting into. I can't remember the particulars now, but I do remember thinking how much I love five-year-old boys. They'll tell you anything. At least mine will. So, there he is sitting in the backseat dreaming up something naughty to do. Aloud.

I wasted no time telling him, "But, G, that's something that will get you in a LOT of trouble with Mommy and Daddy. I don't think that would be making a wise choice, do you?"

"No," he answered slowly.

"In fact," I continued just to make my point and drive it home well, "that would probably get you a spanking."

He sobered for a moment as if remembering how much he despises discipline of any variety, and then his face brightened. "But after the spankin' comes all the hugs and cuddles! That's my FAVORITE part!"

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Hey G, here's an idea," one of his sisters volunteered, "why don't you just skip all the DISBEHAVIOR (dontcha just love that word??) and go straight for the hugs and cuddles? You don't have to act ugly to get attention."

That's some advice I hope he takes to heart. For a very long time.