But My Underwear Says So

A few years ago, a friend of mine bought me some cute pink undies that say “It’s All About Me.” I love them. I love them because they are a.) pink b.) comfy c.) true (the saying, that is).

But the other day as I was driving, the following conversation ensued.

I said to Son: “You know, it’s not all about you.”

Son: “Uh, yes it is.”

Me: “No. It’s not. It can’t be all about you.”

Son: “What?”

Me: “I said, it can’t be all about you… because it’s all about ME.”

Other Son: “What are you people talking about?”

Exactly.

It was as if the words of God came out of Other Son’s mouth at that moment. WHAT are you people talking about?

Now, I’m a mature woman - sometimes. And I know it’s not really all about me. That God is in control, and that my direction of the world around me is simply an illusion. But I can get delusional sometimes. I really get to thinking that if I place my little actors on my stage just so, they will say the lines they are supposed to say and walk the direction they are supposed to walk, and in the end of the production, the actors will stand and give me an ovation. Right? This is crazy. And this is what happens when God gets slowly inched out of my life.

So today, I dropped my kids off at my parents house so they can take them to the lake. I headed to Starbucks before coming back to the Money Pit to start staging it for sale. Lo and behold, there are my parents inside with my children. Except for one. The crabby one.

The sassy boy who barely uttered a goodbye to me this morning because he was mad his DS wasn’t working, stood at the end of the drive-thru waiting for me.

“Don’t make me drive away,” I said to the barista through the drive-thru window.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Crabby Son awaits me just a  few yards ahead and I don’t want to hear his tongue thrashing about.”

“Uh, well, you could stay all day but I think there’s someone behind you,” she says, not so sympathetically.

So I said goodbye to the last person I may ever see on earth before Crabby Son carjacks me and leaves me dead on the side of the drive-thru.

I drive up to him– slowly — waiting to see what spews from his mouth.

And then the most amazing thing happens: He leans his head and arms into the car and says: “I just wanted to say goodbye, Mom. And I love you.” And then he wraps his arms around my neck (gently, as in a hug) AND kisses my shoulder.

“Goodbye, Bud. I had fun hanging out with you last night. Thanks for being with me.”

At that, Crabby Son turned into Smiling Son and walked away.

This is what God does for me. These are the gifts he gives me to let me know that “it” - everything in this world - is not all about me. It’s about Him. The One who has so much goodness in store for me when I least expect it. The One who creates a path for reconciliation and forgiveness and humility - all things I experienced right there at the end of the Starbucks drive-thru with my son.

So thank God my underwear is wrong because it’s exhausting to try and make it all about me. My brain can’t handle the pressure it takes to keep the illusion alive. I do all sorts of crazy things to get my way and to orchestrate a days worth of “feeling good” about me. And what happens, I end up disappointed and resentful because - NEWS FLASH- no one else thinks it’s all about me.

And quite frankly, I’m done thinking that way, too. Thank God for “it” being all about Him. Now I can live as I was made to live, loving God, and others and myself - as His daughter, not as the Queen of the Universe.

Summer Concerts at the Gazebo

Every town has one. A summer concert series. Ours happens to take place at the gazebo, next to a huge fountain, by our local government buildings. A beautiful lawn surrounded by Georgian architecture. I couldn’t tell you who played tonight, what they looked like or how many people were in the band. I do know they were playing swing music and there were plenty of people dancing.

What kept me from seeing the band was mainly due to my position on the lawn. Backed turned to the gazebo, I spent most of my time watching 11 children darting here and there (and 1 adorable 6 week old baby) while trying to carry on some semblance of conversation during the evening with the other families we joined there. If I wasn’t sitting I was taking pictures of our kids running and playing.

Another reason to love summer. Barefoot in the park. Running, catching and tackling kids. Finding random items in the grass (Lucky me and my friend Misty who got to see intestines of some animal in the lawn where our boys played a game of football!). And music.

My friend Heidi was looking at our Wyoming pictures the other day. I had set it as a slideshow with music, and she said, “Everything is better set to music.” I totally agree. Music evokes so much emotion for me. Tonight it wasn’t necessarily the type of music but the fact that it was there, almost like background music choreographed to our life with kids in full “swing.”

The pictures below:

The Mamas

Our spread. At one point Sophia (in pink) asked Bret what his favorite color was. When he answered “purple”, she said, “That’s a funny color for a daddy.” Bret tried to convince us that it didn’t affect his masculinity, but the next time I tuned in to their conversation, I heard Bret telling Sophia, “…and Kings were purple and…”

Apparently, the other Sophia (in the white hat) fell backwards in her little blue chair and couldn’t get up. The nice people beside us helped her since we were clearly not paying attention to the little girl struggling like a bug on it’s back.

Solomon and Misty by the fountain. The constant challenge for every parent with a toddler: How do you keep them OUT?

Solomon decides he’d rather have his own tunes on his little ipod. So funny!

Bret with Kristin’s son Josiah, who calls Bret, “The Man.” (At first I put Bret AND Kristin’s son, Josiah… oops, that’s a bit misleading and scandalous. The power one little word has, huh?)

Our boys make fast friends after they meet for the first time and quickly form their own football team to challenge other kids at the concert.

Ever Heard of an Umbrella?

Seriously, what were the women of yesteryear thinking? My mom used to actually go out into public with one of these rain bonnet, hat, shower cap, get-ups. And I don’t think I was embarrassed either.

And my dear friend Maria, from college, sent me one recently for my 40th birthday. How sweet, huh? So, as a thank you to Maria for her impeccable fashion taste for those 40 and over, here’s a picture for your laughing pleasure.

Boys and the Bean

I drove to Chicago today. Two of my boys had stayed the weekend with my cousin and her family, and I was only going to pick them up, visit for a while and then drive back to Indy. But cousin only lives 5-10 minutes  from the Magnificent Mile. And it is summertime. And it’s warm and beautiful. And it was only 3 in the afternoon. And I’m spontaneous.

So as we headed out of their neighborhood and south on Lake Shore Drive, I took a tiny detour onto Randolph and into a parking garage by Millenium Park. The boys were anxious to get back home, but their dark moods turned lighter when we walked into the Cafe for ice cream. With cones in hand, we ventured up the steps to the next level of the park where we played around the sculpture called “Cloud Gate”, which we have dubbed the giant lima bean. I’ve added some of my favorite shots from the day.

Let me add: I love summer. Here are 10 of the top reasons why:

1. Ice cream tastes extra yummy. And I can work it off by riding my bike, playing football in the yard with the boys or swimming in the pool — so I don’t even feel guilty about my indulgence.

2. The boys get to experience life on their own time table (with little scheduling).

3. We wander as if on a long journey instead of rushing to a destination.

4. I laugh a lot more.

5. We go barefoot - nearly everywhere. Or if shoes are required, they usually involve the flip flop kind.

6. We can stay up late and sleep in! No annoying alarm clock beeping at me in the mornings, just the sweet birds chirping out my window, and the occassional sweet boy waking me to tell me he’s hungry.

7. Weekends at the lake! This one is truly my favorite part of summer.

8. Getting together with friends to play and not worrying about the kids being up late and tired for school the next morning. Relationships feel more carefree and open with the added time that summer brings.

9. Finding treasures in the neighborhood creek, like the gigantic crayfish the size of a lobster.

10. Lying on a blanket in our backyard at night and staring at the stars - or reading a book with a flashlight in the tent we’ve put up at our backyard “campground.”

I hope whoever reads this will make their own list of summer pleasures. It helps you breathe deep and have a grateful heart!

Another Addiction

That’s right, another addiction. I am powerless over Facebook and my life has become unmanageble.

I’m just waiting for Facebook Anonymous to start up somewhere b/c I think I need help. As you can imagine, the laundry generated from11 days out West, especially that of four little boys, is immense. Not to mention that we were planning on putting our house on the market on Friday, only to find out we have a leaky roof that needs to be fixed. In other words, there’s lots of work that needs to be finished in this ol’ house.

The plan was to come home, do the laundry in a snap, do a bit of last minute staging and head down to the lake for some summer sun and fun. But that plan went to Hades in a handbasket. So we make more lists. We make more phone calls. We make more plans.

And what do I do? I get on Facebook. And I search for friends. And friends of friends. And friends of friends of friends. It’s crazy. Before I know it, I’ve been online looking at people’s pictures and profiles for two hours.

Today at church, the message was about fasting from unhealthy dependencies, in other words - addictions. It was one of those creepy Has-the-pastor-been-spying-on-me sort of sermons. So tomorrow I’ve decided if I really, truly believe that God is enough, I will fast from Facebook. All day. Of course, part of the sermon was about not telling the whole world that you’re fasting. Geesh, let me work on one thing at a time, Okay? Pride is a whole other monster to deal with.

Oh, and by the way, if you want to be my friend on Facebook, I welcome you. It was sort of embarrassing to have something like 2 friends at first. I think I’m up to 11 now. But I can’t confirm you as my friend until after the “you-know-what” is over. I’ll look for you on Tuesday.

As for another addiction, here are some totally adorable pix of one of my guys with his little cousin that I had to share, along with some more of Wyoming. (I’ve heard people say I have a bright smile, but that is a bit much, don’t you think?)

Back home again in Indiana

Sometimes I wonder why we live in Indiana? After spending 11 days out west, this notion is stronger than ever. The mountains and the history and culture out west breathe life in me. I have churned these questions over and over in my head: How can we live out here and build community anew? How can we stay connected to friends and family when we leave our roots? Could we live out here for the summers? Where would the kids go to school? Is it all romanticized or could this really happen? Would I be too lonely? Would our kids be too lonely? Is it worth the sacrifice of leaving friends, family and familiarity?

That last one grips me. I love my friends and family. I love having the community I have here but I love the west. This last week taught me so much and I will write about that later. But for now, here are a few more pix for you to enjoy.

SNOW in June?

Excuse me, but is this June? Sure seems like I’m on a winter vacation right now. I’m sitting in a log cabin while it continues to snow, snow, snow. Yellowstone is closed. Yes, closed.

So here we sit in a lodge built in the 1920s with people all over the country who have tried to get into the East Entrance of Yellowstone only to be told it’s a no go for now. There’s the fam from Virginia with the mom who could pass as my twin. She didn’t pack one cold weather item so she’s out here wearing flip flops making fun of herself, wanting to call her friends to laugh with them - or so they can laugh at her. But she can’t find one pocket of cell phone coverage so she’s foaming at the mouth. So like me.

Then there’s the man from Florida who lost his wife last year who decided to drive through the US with a work buddy. When he got up to leave the lodge, he said, “Remember to keep Jesus in your heart.”

There are the ranch hands - young guys from Cody - who have befriended our kids and dared them to run from the lodge down the gravel road while they time them. I love these guys for helping these monkeys to burn some energy. Right now, however, the monkeys are acting like refined young men, playing chess - except for the occassional times they burp aloud or call each other “idiot.”

Mike is the guy who owns this lodge and the surrounding cabins. He’s dealing with all sorts of stranded travelers, feeding them, letting them use his WiFi, his phone, his coffee and hot chocolate.

Virginia Mom just called home from the front desk at the lodge and apparently there is 120 degree heat index where they live. Yet, they huddle here in the snowy mountains of Wyoming right now. Crazy stuff.

Here are a few pix from our last couple days here. Check out the Quote of the Day page to see what my youngest said today.

No one Ever Told Me

The Badlands National Park, in South Dakota, has been there all my life, yet no one ever told me. I am truly amazed that no one has sent me trekking this way before. No one has shared their enthusiasm for this natural wonder in this beautiful land called South Dakota. How could it have taken me this long to find my way to such an awe-inspiring, God-filled place?

My eyes have gorged on the landscape buffet that this state offers. Here are some pix from the last two days. Magnificent!

You’re in Trouble…

…that’s what the Head of the School said to me today at Field Day. As I was running here and there, Mr. Head of School walks by and tells me I’m in trouble. It’s not the first time I’ve been in trouble with him. I’ve loitered in the staff lounge (even though I was given permission to drop something off in a teacher’s mailbox). He stopped me to tell me that the sign that reads “Staff Only” does NOT include me. Prior to that, after I had lost my two younger children while engaged in a deep conversation with another parent, he called me into the same area to show me the outcome of their water cooler experiment (imagine pools of water on carpet and four little feet doing the squishy, squishy dance). Hey, maybe that’s why that “Staff Only” sign was posted the next day.

Anyway, I am no stranger to Mr. Head of School being a little annoyed at me. Let me note here that he’s my friend. His wife is my friend. His kids play with my kids. Yet today, his look meant all business. Today the “You’re in Trouble” comment had a bit of a sting to it. Found out it involved a student, a smallish third grader. I was an accomplice to her crime. Actually, maybe instigator is a better word. But wait until you hear the entire case before you decide whether she or I should be handed down the “You’re In Trouble” charges.

As tradition would have it, Mr. Head of School (HOS) stands in a designated circle (actually a hula hoop on the ground) and kids wait in a line for their turn to throw balls drenched in water at him. The problem is…. Mr. HOS moves around and it’s nearly impossible for the younger children to hit him. I’ve even seen him slyly hook his foot under the hula hoop and move back. So I happened to walk by one of the 3rd graders -  who was standing behind Mr. HOS and his hula hoop to retrieve the balls - and I said loud enough for Mr. HOS to hear, “It’s okay, Susan (not her real name), if you ACCIDENTALLY hit him when you’re throwing the ball back to the person in line.”

Well, Mr. HOS was probably busy pushing the hula hoop backward when I made the joke, which Susan took as a challenge I might add. Off I skipped back into the school to deliver lunches to the classrooms and lo and behold, who should I run into but Mr. HOS himself. And as I scurry along, he stops and says those three words in this post title.

YOU”RE IN TROUBLE… then he adds: “Susan hit me from behind and I told her she had to sit out for the rest of that event. I didn’t know YOU suggested it to her. She started crying and then I found out that YOU told her to do it.”

Now. Now. Could you have just told her to stop? Cool it? Give her fair warning? Noooo, she had to sit out of the coveted event and then, from what I have been told, she broke into tears. That’s what kills me. It’s one thing to get in trouble for my own shenanigans but another to involve an innocent child in my ploy to get Mr. HOS wet on Field Day — as much as you can get someone wet with a little ball soaked in slimy water unlike the complete and utter soaking he would get if our meager budget didn’t prohibit us from getting the traditional dunk tank that other schools use to douse their Heads of Schools (not sure which should be plural so I made both words plural). So I ask you: Wouldn’t you find a way to help these sweet school children get their trusty servant leader as wet as can be on the one and only day they could dare do so?

After I got the three words, I found Susan - smiling at the next event, thankfully, and I apologized and asked for her forgiveness. In all her sweetness she didn’t hesitate to forgive me. I gave her a big hug and told her again how sorry I was that I had caused her to get in trouble.

As for the getting in trouble part, I’m sure it won’t be the last time. In fact, I can’t wait to see what Mr. HOS does next year when I personally finance the dunk tank with the words:

Mr. Head of School… Step Right Up Because You’re Goin’ Down!

And Susan, I guarantee, you’ll be first in line!

Taken at Field Day (The Oaks Academy) two years ago.

It’s LAKE time!

Memorial Day weekend marks the beginning of lake season. Our family has a lakehouse that is located in a beautiful southern Indiana area, which I think is the best kept secret in our state.

Being on the water melts nearly all the worries of life away, not to mention the fun we have watching the kids tube and testing our skiing and hopefully wakeboarding skills. That is my goal this summer - learn to wakeboard.

The lakehouse HAS to be the best investment my dad has ever made, although it means the most work, too. My two older brothers (4 and 6 years older than me) and their families, along with my parents and my family… and any other friends we may have asked to join us, get to spend a weekend together, sharing meals, stories and making new memories. As the way overused phrase goes: It is priceless. If you’ve had the good fortune to grow up with the summer lake experience, you know I can’t capture the wonderment in words. I’ll post a few pictures below and I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of them as the summer rolls on.

top to bottom:

Playing in the sand for hours. I love seeing their imaginations cranked up to full gear.

Noah and his friend go on treasure hunt at the dam.

Jaden pretending he’s been shot and falling into lake. Asher and cousin attached at the hip as they play on the tube.

Boat decorated for 4th of July parade. Yes, you must wear the hat to ride in the boat!

Our friends taking the SeaDoo out for a spin.

Tubing, tubing and more tubing.