The Marriage of Bubba and Frenchie

We went to a wedding reception this weekend.  It was beautiful and a lot of fun.  We explained to the girls that the wedding happened somewhere else, and now we were celebrating with the bride, groom, and their families.  We had a nice time, came home.  I was doing something, my husband was outside.

The girls came to me and said, "Mom, we've been making cakes outside.  They are your wedding cakes.  You and Daddy are going to get married.  Let's get you ready."  So I got up, let them lead me to my room, and stepped into the "dressing room."  I proceeded to receive three dresses, complete with shoes, to try on for my wedding dress.  We decided on one.  They asked if I would like my makeup done, and of course I said yes.  (My makeup bag will never be the same.)  My oldest did hair, my youngest brought jewelry.  I also received a homemade bouquet. When I was ready, they locked me in my room, and told me to wait.

Then they went and got Daddy.  He came out of the garage, was led into the spare room, and given clothes to wear.  When he was ready, we met in the hallway.  We danced in the bedroom.  We had a beautiful time.  But it wasn't enough for the girls.

They insisted that we have the wedding outside.  It was sunny and warm.  They wanted an outdoor wedding.  We suggested the backyard.  They said no.  They wanted our sidewalk as an aisle.  And the cakes were out there.  So Daddy and I stepped outside, looked both ways, hoping none of our neighbors were outside, and waited for directions.  They sent him to the end of the sidewalk to wait for me.  We walked together towards him.  Me as the bride, they as the bridesmaids.  My Littlest Girl told us we were married, and we could kiss.  So we did.

Then Daddy and I walked quickly but nonchalantly back to the cover of the front porch, and fed each other mud wedding cakes.  Which were delicious.

If you're looking for a wedding planner, I would suggest these two.  

Oh, Look! A Chicken.

I was at the gym last week, lifting weights.
As I was counting, I was half listening to the radio.  I was doing curls,  "...2, 3, 4..."
And then Tommy Tutone came on, and my counting went like this, "...5, 3, 0, 9..."
And I had to start over.

Garage Sale!

I'm having a garage sale next weekend.

When I was a kid, sometimes I would come home and some of my stuff would be gone.  My mom was really good at making sure we didn't have any clutter.  I think I became a little possessive of my stuff because of that. Sorry, Mom.  It backfired.

So I'm not really keen on tossing/giving away stuff that belong to my girls without getting their OK first.  That being said, let me show you their play area:

Because I am having a garage sale next weekend, I have given them the chance to decide what they want to sell.  I have told them (a few times) to go and pick out 5 things they want to sell or give away to someone who might not have toys.

Tonight, I gave them that chance.  Again.

This is what my Indian Princess picked out.  Let me give you the deets.  One Matchbox car, one regular car, one zebra that was an accessory to a book we threw out 3 years ago, a one inch sponge animal that made it's way out of the tub toys downstairs.  It is probably growing mold on it.  And a purple dolphin.  Another bath toy that migrated to the pool last winter, and is now neglected in the basement.  Together, these things can fit in my hand.

My Littlest Girl fared better.  She is selling a princess dress (which is killing me because my husband bought it for her just this past October), a flashlight that doesn't work anymore, a heart shaped wire basked that she bought at a garage sale last year, a plastic fork with bent tines, and a freebie makeup bag I gave her to use as a purse.  (Ask me what she uses for a purse. Yeah.  A plastic bag.)

As I said, I'm not keen on sneaking away with their toys without their looking.  But my garage sale is next weekend.  And I'm getting desperate.  Do you think if I have them selling cookies and lemonade they'll realize half of their stuffed animal collection is in boxes in the yard?  Will I have to hold a hysterical girl back while a forgotten Pillow Pet gets the loving it deserves?  Stay tuned.

Meet the Graduates!

I'm not into the graduations that don't involve high school or college diplomas.

But these girls are kinda cute anyway.

And the songs the teachers taught them to sing for their program made me tear up.

Just a little.

Thanks to my girls' teachers.

You know who you are.

We are so blessed to have you in our lives.

The Unofficial Hair Club for Men

This is what I envisioned my yard would look like after we planted grass seed.

This is reality.

Mumble..mumble...what?

It happened the other day.  I was with a couple of ladies I had kind of just met.  Our daughters are in the same gymnastics class.  Sometimes I sit and watch, most of the time I go grocery shopping.  Alone.  Bliss.  But that's another story.

Anyway, on the last day of class, they mentioned they were going to eat, and invited us along.  My Indian Princess was so excited to spend more time with her friends, so we went.

We were talking, getting to know each other, comparing parenting stories.  Somehow, our age came up.  I will admit, I probably started it all, because I can't tell a parenting story without telling our adoption story.  One of the women asked how old I was.  When I told her, I had an out of body experience.  No lie.  I gave her the number.  I knew it was true.  But even I couldn't believe it.

I have never shied away from my age.  When people guess my age, they usually guess too young.  (I'm fine with that.) But for some reason, that night, I couldn't get over how old I was.

Now before I go on, I know that some of you are older than me.  You will tell me I'm still young, or it only gets worse, or something encouraging like that.  And I believe you, and honor you, and I just need to process this for myself.  So sorry if I sound shallow while it all sinks in.

I know a number is just a number, but I am definitely middle-aged now.  I can't pretend I just got out of college, let alone high school.  I have been blessed with decent genes, I brush my teeth, and I still try and wear something that was made within the last 5 years.  But I am older.  My hips and thighs tell me so, as does my dermatologist.

Am I sad that I'm older?  NO.  I look back on my life and the lessons I have learned, the expertise I have gained, the friends I have made, and I am grateful.  I am entering a time where I have a little bit of knowledge about a lot of things.  And I can share this knowledge with anyone who is interested.  And most of the time, I know when to say, "I don't know." and be okay with that.

I love having a history.  I love having friends in multiple cites, states, countries.  I love watching younger women go through the struggles of adulthood, confident they will get through it with flying colors.

In short, I'm grateful to be alive.  Once my girls came into the picture, my birthdays became less important.  As a matter of fact, I don't want anymore birthdays, simply because I don't want to think about leaving my girls alone someday.

To be honest, I haven't thought about concrete goals for the second half of my life.  Rather than being career and family focused, I want to become more God-focused.  That gentle and quiet spirit that is so revered in Christian women is not something I have naturally.  I want to become a student of Christ, so I can determine how to honor Him best, using the personality and gifts he has created me with.

Other than that I don't have a clue.

So while I ponder that, I am still coming to terms with my 40s.  Rather than judging athletes who retire in their 40s, I am starting to understand the wisdom in their decision.  I realize I have no idea what others are going through unless I walk in their shoes.  And I am becoming more protective of what I know is right.  There are some things I will not back down from. Unapologetically.  It's a right we old farts acquire.

So thank you to all the folks who have influenced my life.  Younger and older.  I am grateful.  Just please, don't ask me how old I am.

Getting Ready...

Checking Her Form

Scoping Out the Competition

Her Name in Lights

Pre-Show Gossip

Ignorance. I'm Over It.

Nothing gets people going more than discussing the idea of whether there is a God or not.  What His role is, what He's doing right now, what are His rules, if He has any.  Everyone from the devout atheist to the devout fundamentalist has got an opinion.  The more I think about it, the more stupid it seems.  Correction.  The more stupid we seem.

If there is any truth in the universe, God is a part of it.  Either all things are derived of Him, or they aren't.  And your thoughts on this one thing drives your entire existence.  If God exists, we have a reason for doing the right things.  We also have a reason for abhorring the wrong things.  If God doesn't exist, it doesn't matter.  If God doesn't exist, our lives are free to be filled with the things that we want them to be filled with.  Right or wrong.  This is a whole 'nother discussion, but I have to bring it up here.

Anyway.

Never.  And I mean Never.  Have I heard so many people talk about another topic like this:  "Well, you can believe in God if you want to.  I don't think He exists."  "It may be right for you, but it's not right for me."  "I'm not saying there ISN'T a God, I'm just not interested."

And I gotta ask the question, "Really?"  (I'm a deep thinker.)

I have a friend with a master's degree in mathematics.  He has spent many years researching all things math.  He knows math.  He can answer the questions math can present.  He knows that 2+2=4.  I have another friend.  He lives in a cave.  He's never been schooled.  He has been raised by wolves.  After we taught him English, he says, "I believe 2+2=7."  He is very. clearly. wrong.  Why is he wrong?  Because he's ignorant.  Not in a bad way.  Ignorance means: lacking in knowledge, information or awareness.  We laugh at him.  We think he's cute in his ignorance.  Like a baby who doesn't know any better.  Because he doesn't.

My math friend says, "Here, let me teach you math.  You don't know anything about it.  There are some rules you need to follow, but it is very useful information.  Let me give you some books.  I'll teach you to read.  I want to offer you knowledge of math, so that you aren't confused.  Or wrong."

My caveman friend says, "No!  I will not become knowledgeable in math.  You can believe in math if you want to, but I don't think it exists.  Your math may be right for you, but it's not right for me.  I'm not saying there ISN'T math, I'm just not interested.  And by the way,  2+2=7!"

At this point, my caveman has stopped being cute, and has just become stubborn.  He refuses to learn math, yet he continues to spout his opinion about it.  Those who have studied even basic math wish he would learn it, so he could have accurate answers, and not get ripped off when he gets change at the store, or balance his checkbook.  They are also worried he will go back to his cave and tell his friends the answer is 7.

But he refuses.  He does things his own way, at a huge cost.

More and more I am seeing type of thinking when it comes to God.  For some reason, since we cannot see Him, we believe we are entitled to have an opinion about His existence.  And my question is again, "Really?"  In what other realm of our lives do we do this?  When we express our opinions about other topics, it is after we have researched, read, and checked our facts.  We don't like to be wrong.  But when you express your opinions about God, if you haven't researched Him, you are usually expressing feelings, baggage, or bias you have picked up secondhand.  And somehow that is good enough.  The problem is, you will never know, unless you learn it for yourself, whether you're the guy confidently yelling "4!" or the guy randomly shouting, "7!"

Can I convince you there is a God?  I don't know.  He's either there, or He's not.  His rules are true or they're not.  The argument "God may be right for you, but He's not for me." is bogus.  That's right.  BOGUS.  Feelings have no place in fact.  Regardless of how you feel on the subject, there is an absolute truth on this subject.

So please.  Toss your feelings aside and hit the books.  At least give yourself (and the rest of us) that benefit.  The self-righteous ignorance is becoming suffocating...and dangerous.