New York City - Top of the Rock

We arrived in the city about 4:30 on Friday afternoon. After settling into the hotel and showering, we hit the ground running toward Rockefeller Center, stopping to gaze up at Trump Tower, stepping inside St. Patrick's Cathedral, and admiring the windows in the 5th Avenue shops along the way. I begged Darren to skate, but he thought it would be a bad idea to start off our vacation with a couple of broken legs. LOL!

We had planned on eating dinner at the rinkside cafe, but it was closed for a private event (HMPF!) so we hunted down another restaurant, then headed up to Top of the Rock (the top of Rockefeller Center) for a 360 view of the city.

It was 24 degrees at street level, and the wind was CRAZY strong up on top. It was so cold that Darren was getting brain freeze - the same feeling you get when you eat ice cream too fast. The view was amazing, but the wind made it impossible to get a clear photo. Even the tripod that the photographers use (you know, they take your photo and then try to charge you $22 for a copy of it) was shaking, so the photo of Darren and me was all blurry. (Good excuse not to buy it, at least!) This photo was taken with the camera sitting ON the top of the building. The shake is from the building itself. It's the clearest one we were able to get.

So, why did we need a shower upon arrival, you ask? It goes like this:

On Thursday night, we spent the night at my friend Sheri's house, 'cause she lives right outside of DFW airport, and with the forecasted winter storm, we thought it would be a good idea not to have to face rush hour the next morning on ice. When we woke up, Darren got online to check our gate info, and to make sure our flight wasn't delayed. He couldn't even FIND our flight. That's because it wasn't at DFW. Turns out, we were flying out of Love Field. So he ran upstairs, said, "Get up. We're in a huge hurry. We have to leave NOW." So we brushed our teeth and threw on clothes and ran out the door. Made it to Dallas and caught our flight, even through rush hour traffic. There was no ice, thank goodness! Just drizzle. So... we were all kinds of funky when we finally arrived at the hotel. LOL!

10 Things I Learned Last Weekend

1. Double check your itinerary and make sure you know which airport you're flying out of.
2. New Yorkers are friendly, helpful, and excited that you're visiting their city.
3. Whoever honks first has the right of way.
4. Two quick honks in succession means "Don't you dare try it; I'm not slowing down for you."
5. If you fall on your face in Central Park, there will always be SOMEONE to see you do it.
6. You can spend all day on the lookout for celebrities, and then find yourself walking down a staircase with Barbara Walters when you least expect it.
7. If you ask for tea in a nice restaurant, they'll ask you, "Chamomile? Earl Grey?" When you answer, "Iced", they say, "At least you don't want it sweet", and walk away with a snarl on their face.
8. Huey Lewis was right: New york, New York, is everything they say, And no place that I'd rather be. Unfortunately, I was unable to confirm the next line of the song: Where else can you do a half a million things All at a quarter to three... because I was in bed before midnight each night!
9. I CAN walk my fat arse all over Manhattan. And ENJOY walking, even. Who knew?!
10. Some of New York City's best offerings are completely free: strolling through Central Park, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge toward Manhattan, window shopping on 5th Avenue, Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral, lunch with friends in their happy home....

Pictures to come. :)

NYC-bound!

Darren and I subscribe to the school of thought that says - if you put your marriage first, you're better parents. We try to get out alone together at least once a month, to remember why we fell in love to begin with, and to keep that spark going. I think it DOES make us better parents, honestly. We're more able to give of ourselves completely to the kids when we're not frustrated with each other.

We don't have a lot of money. We have enough, that's for sure. But we have to pick and choose what we do with it. We don't have fancy cars (in fact, we've been sharing one car for almost a year), we don't have new electronics (our stereo is actually just the computer speakers). But we like to travel. Even in our most dirt-poor days, we saved pennies to go camping in the mountains. GOING places has always been one of our priorities. (And let me tell you - we have the art of vacationing CHEAP down to an art form! You wouldn't believe the FREE things you can do and see when you get creative enough!)

Nine years ago, Darren started a tradition: he planned a getaway weekend for us without my knowledge! It was the first time we'd gone away to celebrate our wedding anniversary. That year, we spent one night in a B&B in a quaint little Texas town, and then we spent the next day rummaging through antique shops. I think we only spent about $12 in those shops, though. We wuz po'!

The next year, our 9th, I planned. I scored tickets to our beloved Dallas Stars on eBay - my first eBay purchase! Darren was thrilled, and so surprised!

For our 10th, I jokingly said I wanted to go to Paris. So Darren made it happen. We took a day trip to Paris, Texas! Then we swung through the town where we'd met and married, and took photos at the chapel and other places where we'd stood 10 years before.

For our 11th, Darren took the reins again, so I was doubly surprised. After all, it was supposed to be MY year to plan! While filling out the hospital paperwork for Ian, who was only hours old, Darren brought another form and said, "Here. You have to fill this one out, too." It was a passport application. I thought, "Hmm. Life in Post-9/11 is getting weird. They want passport apps for NEWBORNS now??" Imagine my shock and delight when he announced we were going to Paris again! This time, the REAL one! (Flights were CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP then because everyone was scared to fly.)

The next year, our 12th, I took the reins again. I planned another pro-sporting event - this time scoring tickets to see the Mavericks. Floor seats, even.

For our 13th, in 2004, we road-tripped 10 hours to New Orleans. This one wasn't a surprise - we both planned it together. I'm so glad we got to experience New Orleans before Katrina changed it.

Our 14th anniversary was fun - we sent the KIDS away instead of us leaving. They went to Grandma's for the weekend, and Darren took me on a tour of all the places we'd lived in our marriage, from the run-down roach-infested apartment we had as newlyweds, to the dumpy duplexes we rented for years afterward. All of the locations were within a 90-mile radius, so it was easy to go see them all, and celebrate the blessing of having just bought our first home the prior year.

The 15th year started off with Darren being SLAMMED at work. He was working mandatory overtime, and was hardly home at all. We didn't even celebrate with a dinner out until mid-February. No get-aways that year.

Last year, our 16th, we decided we wanted to see Lake Tahoe, and we combined it with a visit with our friends Norm and Nancy, and Greg and Martha!

Which brings us to this year. It's Darren's year to plan. It's not entirely a surprise for me; we're going to New York City! Here's why. We're season ticket holders to the Fort Worth Symphony. (Darren's a HUGE classical music fan. I snore through the concerts. But, he loves them so much that every year for his birthday, I buy the season tickets. It provides that "free" date night once a month that I mentioned earlier!) This year, when the tickets arrived in the mail, there was a sticker on the back of the envelope that said, "See you at Carnegie Hall! January 26th, 2008". Hmmm. Our anniversary. Turns out, the FWSO is playing in NYC that night! We had to be there, don't you agree? WHAT exactly we're doing in NYC isn't clear to me. He's keeping that much a surprise. I'm so stinkin' excited!! It really started hitting me tonight that we're really going! I've never "done" NYC before. I. CANNOT. WAIT.

overheard

Did someone turn off Super Jedi Slam? - Darren
So let's just go get the Power Brick, please. - Ian
Come on Dad, press it. - Ian
Dad, follow me! You need to get in! - Aidan
Destroy his force field! -Ian

Um, the boys in our house are a little teensy bit addicted to Star Wars: the Complete Saga.
It's a whole language which I do not speak.

23.50

When Aidan was 4, Kristopher and Tristan (his best buds at Fortress) often challenged him to race. Aidan, with his short little legs, always lost. He cried EVERY SUNDAY because he so hated to lose.

My scrapbook room has windows that look out into the back yard and side yard. One day, I kept hearing the padpadpad of footsteps, so I looked out the window and saw Aidan sprinting up and down the driveway, back and forth, back and forth. When I asked him why he was doing that, he said, "I'm practicing my running so I can win." Before long, he was the fastest runner at church.

In December, he ran the Jingle Bell 1 mile Fun Run. Two weeks ago, Darren signed them both up for the 5k Run at the Cowtown Marathon, and he and Aidan developed a regular training schedule. Aidan runs with Darren and his coworkers on Sunday mornings, and with Darren on Wednesday afternoons. (Darren also runs his normal route on days he's not running with Aidan.) Today, Aidan did 2 miles for the first time. He has to take 3 steps for every 2 of Darren's to keep up. His time was 23 minutes and 50 seconds. He'll be ready for the Cowtown EASILY. I can't believe my 7-year old is a runner! I'm sooooo proud of him. (For the record, I can't believe my 38-year old is a runner, either. He clocked his first 9 minute mile last week. So proud of him, too!)

sweet Aidan

This morning, while the boys were eating breakfast, I said, "There are two boys in this world I really, really love. Their names are.... IAN..... and Tristan."

Ian fell into giggles. Aidan looked at me with his mouth all screwy and said, "Tristan?!"

I said, "What? Am I not allowed to love Tristan?"

Aidan replied, "Well, he *IS* a child of God."

Awwww.

Then I said, "There are two boys in this world I love more than ANYone. Their names are.... IAN.... and Daddy."

Again, Ian giggled. Aidan said, "Well, he *IS* your husband."

Then I grabbed Aidan up in my arms and smothered him in smooches.

I love that he understands my sense of humor and takes it so well!

the gift

You may remember this post from back in September. I can finally divulge what the gift was!

A fellow ScrapShare member (Tiffany) invited me to come to the 2nd annual Michigan scrapbooking retreat, all expenses paid. At first, I said no way. I just couldn't accept a gift like that, especially from someone I barely knew. But she really preached to me that day about allowing her to share a recent windfall, and how if I declined, I'd be denying her the opportunity to bless others. She said that she wanted to bless me, and that she wanted to bless the other retreaters by surprising them with an unexpected visitor. I finally accepted her offer, but felt so weird about it. I am totally unworthy of such a gift, and for 3 months, I worried that when I arrived, people would say, "Uh, ok. Big whoop."

The only caveat was that I had to keep it a secret, OR ELSE! I wasn't allowed to tell any fellow retreaters that I was coming, and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone who might slip and tell any fellow retreaters, either. I told Ginger, Elaine, Denise (and of course, my local friends) ('cause a girl has to have SOMEONE to share her joy with!!). They kept the secret. (Thanks, friends!) It was so hard at my annual ScrapShare Texas retreat in November, saying goodbye to the ones I knew I'd be seeing again in Michigan, and not being able to tell them. And when I got Sue's Christmas card, where she'd written "I hope your 2008 is the best and most blessed ever - and it will be if we meet up again!", I wanted to call her and say, "HEY! We are! We are!"

So I went. All expenses paid. All I did in return was create a mini-album make-n-take for everyone, and give a brief hand-lettering demonstration/lesson.

I'd wanted to meet Weezie for YEARS. She's one of the first friends I made online 9 years ago, and I've loved her forever. When I realized that I'd only be a couple of hours from her, I called Tiffany and said, "I know this is a secret. But you have to understand. Weezie and I have tried to meet up, and it didn't work out. I can't be that close to her and have her not be here. And I know she'll be devestated, too, if we miss each other." So Tiffany filled Weezie in, and she was there. So she knew the secret too, and didn't tell anyone.

My fears about the group being underwhelmed were unfounded. Tiffany had dreamed up this elaborate entrance where I'd come dancing my way into the room. (I'm sorta known for my booty-dancin' ways at ScrapShare retreats. GAH. I have no shame!) She told me to wear my pink wig and to be ready to make my grand entrance when I heard Pink's "Get This Party Started" song start playing.

I was sweating bullets out in the hallway, fearful of a less-than-enthusiastic reaction, and worried that people would think, "Uh. Who does she think SHE is, making a big entrance like that?" But no. They made me feel like a ROCK STAR! I simply can't explain how it felt to be recognized immediately by people who'd never met me and had no idea I was coming. And to see the shock on the faces of the people who DID know me - oh, THAT was classic! Wanna see the big intro? Weezie filmed it, unbeknownst to me. That's her you hear giggling all the way through the video. She's quite embarrassed now, and keeps saying, "I broke the number one rule of videography: don't let yourself be heard." LOL!! I love Weezie. SO SO SO glad we've finally met face to face!

Hey Mom, turn up your volume and click VIDEO HERE.

Several of the retreaters hadn't yet arrived when I came dancing in, so I got to surprise people over and over. My favorite reaction was Michelle's. She gasped, walked over to me, and began to cry! I've always pictured her as a really tender-hearted, sweet sweet person. And she is. :)

Meeting so many women that I've only known online and never thought I'd GET the chance to meet - oh, what a gift. I feel so rejuventated. So completely blessed. So incredibly lucky to be a part of this family. So overwhelmingly grateful to Tiffany for her generosity, her genuine servant heart, and her crazy antics that rocked the weekend. The Michigan and Ontario gals are an AMAZING group of talented, fun, crazy, loving women. I can't imagine a better way to have kicked off the new year. In them, I've found a whole new crop of real-life friends. It was an amazing weekend, and they made me feel so completely loved and welcomed.

And Tiffany. Word to the Mommas! As Lee would say, "We're like sistahs from anothah mothah!" And as Lee's daughter would say, "No, they're like sisters from another mister!" Whatever the case, we're like sisters. We had lots of opportunity to talk in the car between Detroit and East Lansing, and deeeeeep into the night in our hotel room. Tiffany is just like me in that she's a little wild and crazy, a lot crass, really loud when she's having fun, up for anything, not afraid of much, and still totally and completely in love with God. LOVE LOVE LOVE that about her! And guess what?? She's coming to Fort Worth in May! For a WEEK!! WHEEEEEEE!!

Here we are. I love you, Tiff! Thanks for the gift of a lifetime. I can't wait until I have the opportunity to pay it forward. :D

Christmas

Lots of giving and getting. Lots of singing and laughing. Lots of just chilling and hanging out with Mom and Dad. LOVED that part. It was the first year I've hosted Christmas for my side of the family in this house, and even though the house wasn't as clean as I'd have liked, and even though we never did go out and cut down a real tree this year, and even though I only put out the barest amount of decorations, I decided right before they arrived that IT IS OKAY. And it was. Sweet memories.

Apparently, Dad read and paid attention to my Christmas letter. He came through and passed with FLYING COLORS! Although, when I squealed with delight upon opening a vacuum cleaner for Christmas, I had to wonder, aloud, "So this is what it's like to get old? Feeling giddy about a vacuum cleaner on Christmas morning??" Here's the one he got me.

Also from Dad: a big, thick book of NYTimes Sunday crosswords which have single-handedly changed my late bedtime habit. I almost can't wait to crawl into bed these days with my mechanical pencil in hand. WHOA BABY.

He also managed to find a fluffy bath towel big enough to wrap around this bod of mine. And the kicker? Two cigars. "Wow, Dad, these look like good ones."

"I doubt it," he said. "I went into the smoke store and asked for the nastiest ones they had." BWAHA!!

In other Christmas news, Darren came through with my most desired wish: a 50mm lens for my XTi. I've been a picture-taking fool again since putting it on. LOVE the results I get with that lens.

As for giving, Darren and I gave the kids a Wii. Couldn't be from SANTA, ya know, since Doofus Santa left it in the kitchen that one night. Instead, Santa gave the boys a soccer ball, a basketball, and a toy each. All of which have been long forgotten already, as the Wii demands everyone's full adoration. The boys also got a couple of smallish toys they'd been wanting, a new pair of tennis shoes each, and new shirts and jammies. Dani scored some new makeup, some cool posters for her room, Vans, earrings, a penguin speaker for her iPod, and other random stuff.

I gave Darren a new Dallas Stars shirt to replace the one he dripped bleach on last week, a running shirt, an electric beard trimmer thingy, and the biggie: I shaved my legs. Bwa!

I drew my brother's name, and bought for him a bluetooth headset thingy and the Guiness Book of World Records.

In other news...

You maybe oughta sit down for this.

As Dad and I were unloading his car, he handed me a laptop and said, "I can't remember if I told you about this or not." Immediately, my greedy little brain did a somersault and I thought, "SWEET!! A laptop for Dani!" Then Dad said, "It's Mom's." I promise you that immediately after that, we had to pluck gravel from my lips, 'cause my jaw hit the GROUND.

Get OUT! She's said for a hundred and one years that she'd NEVER get online. She wouldn't even TOUCH a computer. When I'd email photos, she'd make Dad print them out and bring them to her in her recliner, 'cause she refused to look at anything on the computer screen.

But now she's online. She brought her laptop here so I could show her how to use it. She bookmarked my blog. I taught her how to comment. And I BETTER SEE A COMMENT HERE, MOM, or I'm gonna come get that laptop and give it to Dani after all. LOVE YOU!

Santa is a doofus!

So. The box arrived yesterday. You know - the box with the WII in it.
The elusive Wii.
The Wii that I make sure we look for at Target every single time we're there, pointing out to the boys, "Oh, rats. Look. They still don't have any Wiis."

The boys know that Wiis are hard to come by. Still, they asked Santa for one, and Santa came through. Doofus Santa opened it up last night, and meant to take it upstairs to hide it, but instead, he got distracted and left it on the kitchen counter.

This morning, Ian came down for breakfast, and exclaimed, "HEY! A Wii!!"

Santa, quick on his feet, said, "That's not a Wii. It's just a box."

Then he grabbed it up quick and brought it upstairs.
I can't believe he had the guts to tell me about it. Doofus.

HoSanta in the highest!

There's a song we sing at church that I love.
The girls echo the guys... "Lord we lift up Your name... with hearts full of praise... be exalted, oh Lord our God... Hosanna in the highest!"

The boys often sing along at church, and I'm regularly amazed at the lyrics they know. Last Sunday, though, Ian caught me off guard when I heard him singing, with feeling, "HoSanta in the highest!" bwa ha ha ha!

Speaking of Ian. He's been wicked bad lately. He screamed and cried at Dani when she gave him a birthday present he didn't want. He was ugly to Tenny and Gonna when they gave him a gift he already had. He's been generally spoiled and rotten. The other day, I said, "Ian, you sure are acting ugly, and that's a bad idea this close to Christmas."

"Why??" he demanded.

"'Cause Santa's coming, and he's watching you."

"Santa only cares about the rest of the year. He doesn't care about December."

"Oh, Ian. You're so wrong! He's making a list and checking it twice right now, and he knows if you're being naughty or nice. And truth be told, he's probably seeing a whole lotta checks in the naughty column lately. He probably won't even notice the rest of the year now."

At that, Ian fell on the floor in a puddle of tears and exclaimed, "Santa's not gonna come at ALL!!!!"

Am I mean?

His repentant heart didn't last long.

When we took all the kids' photos at Fortress on Sunday, this is the pose Ian gave me. You can almost hear the growl, can't you?

More of the Same - Christmas Edition

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. I'm a freak about it too... I want it to all coordinate. Then I get sorta sad when Christmas arrives and people show up and put their gifts under the tree wrapped with SpongeBob paper and gold foil poinsettia prints that totally clashes with my stripes and polka dots.

2. Real tree or Artificial? Both. Real tree in the front window, and a fake tree in the family room.

3. When do you put up the tree? Fake tree usually goes up Thanksgiving weekend, but we've all been sick and haven't gotten it out of the attic yet this year! We usually buy the real tree around the 10th.

4. When do you take the tree down? Hmmm. Real tree gets undecorated pretty quickly, 'cause I hate the mess after it starts drying out too much. Fake tree? Depends. Last year, I think I finally took it down toward the end of January!

5. Do you like egg nog? Yep. From Braum's. With a shot of Bailey's and nutmeg sprinkled on top.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? my orange vinyl-covered record player that closed and locked like a suitcase. (I bet you young whippersnappers don't even remember record players. Or for that matter, hard-sided suitcases that had snapping locks!)

7. Do you have a nativity scene? No. I want one. Started looking at Fontanini pieces last year, after a friend sent me $30 to put toward my first piece. Still haven't bought anything yet! (Is something wrong with me that I don't love Fontanini? Someday, I'll find THE perfect nativity scene. I'll know it when I see it.

8. Hardest person to buy for? Darren's brother, Chris. If he wants anything, he could just go and and buy it without worrying about the cost. Problem is, he just doesn't want anything!

9. Easiest person to buy for? my sister. I'm always seeing things that make me think of her!

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. I still handmake 'em. Haven't started THAT this year, either.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? a black nightie from Darren that didn't fit. By a long shot. I don't know who was more disappointed - him or me!

12 . Favorite Christmas movie? A Charlie Brown Christmas. and Love Actually.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Whenever I find something I know someone will love. Problem is, if I buy too early, I can't wait to give it to the person, and end up having to buy them another gift closer to Christmas!

14 . Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? That black nightie? I gave it to Cara just a few days ago, tags still attached. lol!

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Mom's fudge

16 . Clear lights or colored on the tree? Clear on the fake tree. Colored on the real tree.

17. Favorite Christmas song? What Sweeter Music, sung by the Cambridge Singers (with John Rutter conducting)

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? this year, my family is travelling to OUR house! It's different every year.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeers? Yes. Rudolph and Olive.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Star.

21 . Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Depends which family we're celebrating with. With the Kocurs, everything gets opened on Christmas Eve, and then Santa leaves stockings and another gift overnight. With the Agees, everyone gets to open one gift on Christmas Eve and then mayhem ensues on Christmas morning. I like it both ways, actually!

22 . Most annoying thing about this time of year? traffic jams at I-20 and Hulen

23. Favorite christmas ornament? a birdhouse that Darren carved for me out of a tree branch when we were newly married.

24. Favorite thing for Christmas dinner? Honey Baked Ham with all the trimmings.

Winner

Late last summer, Darren started a training program called Couch to 5k. He ran his first race on Thanksgiving morning (the Fort Worth Turkey Trot), and his second race tonight (the Jingle Bell Run.) I'm so stinkin' proud of him for setting a goal and seeing it through, which frankly, has never been his forte. His calves are shaping up QUITE NICELY as a result, and I'm certainly enjoying THAT added benefit. Mmmm. ;)

A few weeks into the program, his coworkers got interested, and several of them started too. They all signed up as a team for the Jingle Bell Run and ended up raising $1200 for The Arthritis Foundation. It was fun watching all of them run together, and waiting at the finish line as each of them crossed.

At sign-up time, Darren mentioned to Aidan that the Jingle Bell Run included a 1 mile Fun Run. Aidan said he wanted to do it. One evening several weeks ago, the two of them ran to Aidan's school and back - an exact mile - just to see if Aidan could do it. On the home stretch, Darren said, "Let's race back home." Aidan turned on his jets and left Darren in his dust! There was no doubt that he could run a mile, and THEN some!

Tonight was the night. We didn't officially sign him up, so he didn't have a number or anything. Darren has been coughing up a lung for the better part of a week, so I didn't think we'd even go. We didn't mention it again to Aidan until a couple of hours before the race. He got so excited!

"Aidan," I coached. "You'll need to save your energy for the whole race. Don't start out too fast. And if you get tired, just tell yourself, 'I can do it. I know I can! I know I can!"

He interrupted me, saying, "Mom, I don't need to say that. I already know I can."

"Yah, but just in case...." I started.

"Mom. I'm a winner. Winners don't quit. I'm gonna win. I know it already."

Talk about confidence!

While Darren waited with him at the starting line, I hiked a half mile down the course to wait, snagging a good spot for picture-taking and for cheering on my little winner. I gotta tell ya: as I stood there in front of the Tarrant County Jail ignoring the cat calls and whistles coming from its windows, I thought, "What the heck kind of parents send their not-quite-7-year-old running through the streets of downtown with no one to watch him? No one to make sure he didn't stumble and scrape his knees. No one to make sure he didn't veer off the course...."

But before I could worry for TOO long, here they came. A few adults, a handful of teenagers, and then..... AIDAN!! I can't even express the pride I felt. "You're doing GREAT, Aidan!! Keep running! I'm so proud of you! GO AIDAN!!!" The race ran along the main streets of downtown, where cars were parked along the sides and bicycle cops weaved in and out of intersections keeping cars from entering. Aidan kept running between parked cars to jump up on the curb, then he'd run down the sidewalk a bit, then weave back out on to the street again. He was having a BALL! I think he could've shave a lot of seconds off his time if he'd just stayed on the street. LOL!

After snapping a few pics, I high-tailed it to another intersection where I could cheer him on again on the second half. This time, he was running uphill and was dragging. When he saw me, he slowed to a near-walk. "AIDAN!" I yelled. "You're a WINNER!! You're a winner, Aidan! Keep running! You can do it!" And he turned on his jets, and did it. I ran behind him, cheering him on, for about 2 blocks. When I slowed down, I had to wipe my eyes.

At the finish line, the crowd cheered him like crazy. He was in the top 30 to cross... and the first little kid. Afterward, as we waited for Darren to run his race, people kept stopping to say, "Hey! I saw you running! You did great!" Aidan said he felt famous.

9:24. Aidan's first officially-timed mile.

I'm here to tell you: it won't be his last.

Stacy's Wish List

Dear Dad,

I was teasing when I said I have a long list. The truth is, I can't really think of anything I want. Well, wait. That's not true. I can't think of anything I want that anyone can afford to buy me. HA!

There's the VW bug that I'm still mourning - you know, the one that David burned up on the side of 121 all those years ago. I want another one still.

I've been coveting a set of Fiestaware for years. 8 place settings. Sunflower, Tangerine, Peacock and Scarlet. But that'd set you back a pretty penny.

I want my kitchen gutted and remodeled. I want to add a wall in the front room and turn that wasted space into Darren's library (with pocket doors!) and an entry hall. I want to paint my house. When we bought it, I said ,"I will not live in a pink house. We're painting it first thing." It's still pink. It's almost been 4 years. So you see, there's really nothing I want. HA!

It occurs to me that I've now lived OUT of your house for more years than I lived IN it, and since hundreds of miles have separated us for the last 17 years, you probably don't know me well these days. My family room is red and creamy white with black accents. I love brown and red together. My kitchen stuff is red. I love dark red - like OU red. Orangey-red, not so much.

I collect old hymnals, old promotional yardsticks with Fort Worth businesses on them, and the letters S and K - wooden, iron, whatever.

I don't wear slippers, but fuzzy warm socks are good.

I want a maid.

I keep losing the lens caps for my 35mm lenses.
I love a big fluffy bath sheet. Not a towel, but big enough to cover my wide hide. Bath. SHEET. I don't like bath stuff that smells like food. Darren once bought me a set of coffee-scented bubble bath, lotion, etc. I thought I'd throw up every time I smelled that stuff. He was sweet and took it back. To Sears. Never buy bath stuff at Sears. I never take baths anyway.

I love a hot, hot HOT shower. Hey! I'd love a new shower head that really pulsates and gives me serious water pressure. Installed. I want a tankless water heater or two, so I can get rid of the water heater in my scrap room that always makes me worry. If it explodes, that'd be BAD.

About three or four times a year, I get a hankerin' for a cigar. There's only one way to squash that hankerin', ya know. Sorry, Dad. I'm sure that makes you proud. HA.

My bedding is black and white toile.

I love NY Times crossword puzzles, but most other crosswords make me cranky.

I need a vacuum cleaner that's lightweight enough to cart up and down the stairs. The only carpets I have are on the stairs and two small area rugs.

I read every night. If I don't have anything to read, I'll go into the bathroom and read shampoo bottles and tampon boxes if I have to. I must read before I fall alseep.

I like necklaces that are colorful and funky.I don't own a nice pair of earrings, and I'm 38 years old. Dontcha think a 38-year old woman ought to own at least one pair of nice earrings? I don't like gold. I don't like brass. I do love silver.

I collect those old-timey alarm clocks with the hammers and bells on top.

Darren cooks more often than I do, and he prides himself on not using recipes. I wish he'd use recipes. Don't tell him I said that.

I love fresh flowers and wish I could afford to keep them on my dining table all year long. I hate to garden. I think it's David's fault, 'cause he used to stick worms and crickets down my shirt in the garden at The Farm.

We love to have friends over to eat dinner and play cards.

This year, I kicked my Sonic Diet Coke with Vanilla addiction again.

I love board games, but I haven't bought a new one in about three years.

I want a timer so lamps will come on and go off on their own, whether we're here or not.

I have a list. It's called "Things to Do In my Life", and on it are things like "skydive", "take a hot air balloon ride over Fort Worth and the surrounding countryside", "wear a size 10 again", "get published". I've crossed off a bunch of things already... "dye my hair red" (did that when I was 25), go to New England in the fall (2000, when I was 7 months pregnant with Aidan), grow an herb garden (actually, Darren does all the work. HA!), buy an old house (2004).

Some of my happiest memories involve The Farm (specifically, you letting me mow on the riding mower, and me going out of my way to run over snakes with it!)... (and also, weinie roasts and hauling water for the pigs, believe it or not). Some of my worst memories involve The Farm (specifically, walking into the woods and right into a sea of tree worms)... (and also, the cricket incidents I mentioned earlier).

I love my kids and actually enjoy being around them, which seems to be a rarity these days when I look at the world around me. Darren loves me even when I leave the dinner dishes for two days running, and even when he has to start a load of underwear 'cause I forgot. He gets up most mornings and gets the kids breakfast, giving me another 15 minutes to sleep. He supports me in everything I do and strive to be. Basically, he spoils me rotten and makes me believe that I'm beautiful and cherished. I'm a lucky, lucky girl!

If I went back to college, this time I really WOULD be there to learn, but I don't know for sure what I'd major in. I still love to write, but life has taught me that as much as I love my own kids, I don't so much like other people's kids. A teacher would be a miserable career choice for me, and frankly, that's likely where my English degree would've taken me. I love my friends' kids, but mostly only because I love my friends. And I'd rescue a kid from the middle of the street, but I'd call the pound or something immediately.

I love the teens and young adults at Fortress, 'cause love brings out the best in them, and they're starving for it. I never in a MILLION YEARS thought I'd be passionate about inner city ministry. I never dreamed I'd feel comfortable driving into and walking through the projects at dusk. No one could have made me believe that I'd fall in love with them so deeply that my heart swells with pride when they succeed, and crumbles with ache when they don't. I believe that God has blessed me richly - through friendships, marriage, my family, my hobbies - so that I have the experience, the compassion, and the time that Fortress needs. I feel blessed to have found my calling there.

My life motto is simple: Choose Joy.

(I still want a maid.)

I love you, Dad!

need a giggle?

I do. I need a giggle. Here it is:

Nice evening out.

All dressed up.

Smile for the camera!

Look again:

just the facts, ma'am

The rules:
A. Each player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves.
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 6 people and posts their names

I've been lazy about blogging. Today, I noticed on Nesa's blog that she tagged me, so here I go. Maybe this'll jumpstart me to start blogging daily again!

Six facts about me:

1. I'm a hard stick. Yep. I stopped giving blood because I got tired of being stuck several times, only to dry up and stop bleeding. I figured, if phlebotomists who spend their days drawing blood can't get me to bleed, who can? I had my annual physical yesterday, and the doc always checks my thyroid levels (I have a thyroid disorder)... so off to the lab I went. FIVE STICKS. They were finally able to get blood out of the the top of my left hand, in a vein right beside my ring finger knuckle. All the bruises are starting to surface today, and my hand is SORE! On top of that, I had a tetanus shot yesterday, and my arm still feels like lead.

2. I look young for my age. It's in my genes, I suppose. My parents neither one have gray hair yet, and Dad's 60 - Mom's 58. At the doctor yesterday, the nurse doing my stats commented that I don't look anywhere near 38. I still get carded regularly. I'll take it!

3. I always order the same thing. I can't help it. I WANT to get something different, I SAY I'm getting something different, I CHOOSE something different from the menu, but it never fails. As soon as the waiter walks up, I order the same ol'. At Chili's, it's the Chicken Crispers with gravy instead of honey mustard. And I always save the corn for last. IT'S the BEST corn on the cob I've ever had! At Macaroni Grill, I always ALWAYS get Penne Rustica. Always. At other restaurants, I manage to order outside the box, but not at these two.

4. I sleep like a dead person. I never hear the alarm clock, ever. I don't hear the kids. Last week, I didn't hear it when Nathan's friend was BANGING on the piano downstairs at 3:30 a.m.. It woke my kids up, but I didn't hear it. Darren used to have to wake me up to take care of the babies when they woke up for a feeding. As a kid, I slept through fire trucks sitting in our driveway, putting out a fire across the street. And I slept through an ice storm which caused a HUGE pecan branch to crack and fall, right outside my window. My parents heard it from their bedroom in the back of the house. I snoozed right through it.

5. I pray a lot, but I'm mostly a silent pray-er. I wear my faith on my sleeve, but I don't push it down others' throats. But I do pray a lot, usually when I'm in the car. For others, for me, for the world in general. I believe deeply in prayer. My "wishes" aren't always granted, but that's okay with me, because I believe that God hears my prayers, and answers with what's best for me in the long run. Even when I disagree or don't understand, I have faith that His wisdom and compassion and grace is good enough. And I'm glad it's not my job to understand.

6. I have to read at bedtime. No matter how tired I am, I must read. I've been known to read the back of a shampoo bottle when nothing else was available. Recently, I've taken up crosswords again; Darren's been printing out old NYTimes ones and I do THOSE at bedtime. They seem to reliably fill that "reading" need, at least for now.

I'm tagging the following six people:
1. Heidi
2. Tracy B
3. Martha C.
4. Veronica
5. Beth
6. Nancy D ('cause she claims she'd never blog if not for me. lol)

things you learn at Open House

(click images to enlarge)

Things that make Aidan sad:

when Brendan calls him a doo doo butt. (His teacher said he's not allowed to say "butt", so he changed it to "head".)

Things that make Aidan happy:

apparently, Christmas. And people saying he's nice. He's exactly like me.

Yay for Nathan. Aidan considers him part of our family. (So do we, actually.)

But where is poor DANI?

I know that Aidan loves to read.
I know that he loves pasta.
I did NOT know that his favorite place to go is 7-11!
Let me tell you how HARD I cracked up in the classroom tonight, standing in front of this poster. All the other kids wrote "Six Flags", "Stars games", "the museum". One kid wrote Target. MY kid wrote 7-11. Ya know, it's just more proof that he's mine all mine. 7-11 sells Slurpees and CANDY! :) I'm happy to see that Dani has rejoined the family, but apparently, all of the Kocur men need haircuts.

The ant in this story refers to Aunt Bobbie. Here's to you, seester! We all miss you!

And now, for the MOST IMPORTANT THING I LEARNED AT TONIGHT'S OPEN HOUSE:

He and his friend Collin have it all planned out. At midnight, they'll walk to the stockyards. They'll wait for the train. Nevermind that it doesn't arrive until 10 tomorrow morning. Then they'll rob it and get off at Granbury. They haven't realized that it stays at Stockyards Station for a good while before turning right around and going back to Grapevine. Silly boys.

I said, "Aidan, your plan will never work. You're not allowed to go outside at night."
"I'll sneak out."
"Oh no you won't. You're not allowed."
"I will anyway."
"Oh. No. You. Won't. You're not allowed. And besides. You don't know how to get to the Stockyards."
"Collin's Mom will drive us."
"Ohhhh. So Collin's Mom is in on this little escapade?"
[giggling] "Yes!"
[with hand up to ear, as if on phone] "Collin's mom? This is Aidan's mom. You stay away from my child. And keep your hoodlum kid away from him, too."

Many more giggles.
I'm sure you're relieved to know that the Train Robber is upstairs asleep, and if I know my kid, he won't MOVE until we roust him out of bed in 8 hours. :)

Good times, good times. :)

Riddle me this

If I am so busy all the dadgum time, then why am I so fat?
Seriously, last week, I forgot to eat lunch several times because my days' schedules were so packed.

Why is it that every time I attend a pro game (any sport), the team loses? I was Michael's lucky date Friday night to the Stars vs. Flames game. We lost in overtime. I hate sudden death. It's so... sudden. Other than that, though, what a BLAST it was! We had awesome seats, on the second row, right beside the opposing team's penalty box. Lucky for me, Cara was out of town and couldn't attend, and Darren loves me so much that he deferred to me when the opportunity came up. ("I got to go last time," he said. MAN, I love that man!)

Why is it, at Fuzzy's Taco Shop, when I request garlic sauce, they get all snarky and insist that garlic sauce is a GIVEN on their tacos - you don't have to request it... and yet, the reason I always request it is because they always forget to put it on! (Have you ever had a Fuzzy's Taco? Despite the disgusting innuendo in their name and slogan ("If it looks like a taco and smells like a fish, it must be a tasty dish" - they're famous for their fish tacos. Ahem.).... despite all that, I love the place and can't get enough! Tempura Shrimp Tacos are the BEST. I turned Michael on to them today, and he was a happy boy.

There's a new employee at Fortress Youth Development Center (see the link in my sidebar) who loves to say "good times".
"Hey, Tiki, how are you likin' your job?"
"It's GREAT. I like it a lot. Good times, good times."
"Tiki, do you want me to bring you some lunch when I come back?"
"No, thanks. I brought a sandwich today. Good times, good times."
At first, it was kinda funny. But now I've grown to like it, and I've caught myself saying it, too.
Last week KICKED MY TAIL, but I got so much stuff accomplished. Good time, good times.

• went to dinner with my dear friends, the Glenns
• afterward, met other friends for the Eli Young concert at Billy Bob's (met up with an old high school friend there, too)
• spent all day Saturday with Kristi at Recollections' Open House, then we stayed and cropped there 'til midnight
• Took photos of the Fortress high school girls in front of each of their schools
• Kids were out of school Monday for State Fair Day (officially called "Columbus Day, but we all know why local kids are out of school on that day each year, and it's not 'cause Columbus sailed the ocean blue.)
• 2 doctor's appointments
• 1 teacher conference
• haircut for Dani
• volunteered at the boys' school
• created a Save the Date card for a client
• created a flier for Fortress YDC
• FWSO for Darren and Dani, and the Stars game for me
• baby shower on Saturday
• going-away party for sweet neighbors that night
• taught Bible class Sunday morning
• hosted 40 or so friends from church that evening for dinner and football
• continued planning details for the big annual ScrapShare Texas crop
• completed a scrapbook job that was due
• managed to see a lot of Cara and Kristi, which is always good for my soul
• surely I'm leaving something out
• cleaned house and caught up laundry

So again, I ask you.
How is it again, that I'm overweight?
On second thought, don't answer.
Good times, good times. :)

out of the mouth of Ian

(Bear with me. This is another crude post. I promise, no more talk of poop or boobs or wienies after this. I'll be pulling this blog out of the gutter in a matter of minutes. Ahem.)

Word to the Mommas. Dani never asked questions like this. The boys were in the kitchen eating corn dogs for lunch. Then they started talking about Beanie Weinies. I was mostly tuning them out. Aidan must've fed Ian a line though, 'cause the next thing I heard was this:

"Mom," asked Ian, "are weinies really pee pees, or are they pieces of meat?"

While choking on my tonsils, trying to suppress the laugh that came barreling up from my gut, I squeaked out, "Weinies. Are pieces. Of meat."

Then I took a deep breath.

"They're hot dogs. Hot dogs are weinies."

Satisfied with that answer, Ian went running back to the kitchen table to set his big brother straight.

And I collapsed on the floor, wheezing.

the lady's stacked, and that's a fact

It's pretty well known that when certain friends of mine call my cell phone, the Commodores' alert me by singing a portion of "Brick House".

... "she's a Brick. Howwwse. She's mighty mighty, just lettin' it ALL hang out. She's a Brick. Howwwse. The lady's stacked, and that's a fact, ain't holdin' nothin' back...". Sometimes, when it rings, I miss the call entirely 'cause I'm too busy doin' the upper-body arms-in-the-air chair dance.

Today, I took my Fortress friend Royleesha up to her high school to get some paperwork done so that she could get enrolled in another school. While she shuffled between the Attendance Clerk's office and the Counselor's office, I decided to hang out in the hall and take some photos. The school (Arlington Heights, for you locals) is such an amazingly cool building. I was shooting the lockers when the bell rang, and the hall immediately filled with students. I'm a pretty confident girl. I don't often feel out of my element. But during that class change, I gotta tell ya: I felt conspicuous - me, a big, middle-aged Momma, wearing old lady jeans, a t-shirt with "creative genius" emblazoned in rhinestones across it, and a big ol' camera around my neck.

Finally, after five minutes, the halls cleared and the tardy bell rang. And then they came.

Two big dudes, shuffling down the hall with that familiar swagger that kids their age seem born with, shades on top of their heads even though they haven't seen the sun in hours, bling around their necks, wifebeater shirts peaking out from the required button-downs that they'd rebelliously unbuttoned down to their navels, pants barely hanging on to their 17-year old arses, and huge tennis shoes, untied. I watched them as they approached, and felt myself lean back tighter into the lockers I was leaning against.

Suddenly, the one nearest me pulled his shades down to his eyes, then to the tip of his nose, then back to his eyes, then to the tip of his nose again, and demanded,

"You fittin' a come to this school?"

I cracked right up. Heck NO, I ain't fittin' to come to this school, I was about to say. I'm 38 years old!

But before I could get a word out, as I laughed and shook my head no, he said, "That's too bad. You stacked."

I was still laughing, but it tapered off to a snicker and then a "Heh????" as they swaggered on down the hallway, the one nearest me nearly tripping on his shoelaces as he bent at the waist and did some sort of "rolling" thing with his arms.

And then, I looked around for the hidden cameras.

Have.
Mercy.

Smelly Cat, smellll-ly cat... what. are. they. feeding you?

From the scrapbooking message board where I spend my days:

Thread Title: What's wrong with my cat? She STINKS!

Me: If you have a sensitive stomach, go ahead and just CLOSE THIS THREAD. No, really. Ok. If you insist, then there better be no whining. Got it?

Ashlie's poop smells worse than any man's I've ever known. It's worse than mine after a night of broccoli and beans. It's worse than fresh dog poop on my shoe. It's worse than up-the-back and out-the-leg toddler diarrhea. I swear. When I walked into the house tonight, it hit me in the face. I thought one of the kids had just gone #2 and not flushed. But nope. It was the cat. In her litter box. BURIED, even. And it STILL stunk up the whole house. It's this way every time she goes, for about the last month or so. We haven't changed her food. What could it be? I'm sending her back to Ginger if the board can't fix her.

Julie: change the litter, use one with charcoal and/or baking soda

Me: It's not the litter. It's her poop. Litter is scooped at least once daily. There's a charcoal filter on top of the box (it has a lid), and we always sprinkle special cat baking soda in the litter when we scoop it. Try again.

Julie: I know it's the poop...poop is supposed to stink (sorry, I dont have a ton of cat experience, that's all I got in my bag of tricks)

Me: Cat poop isn't supposed to stink up the entire house, after it's been buried in the sand. If this is the new normal, then I'll be poking a bunch of holes in the Priority Mail box I have sitting here, and putting her out for the mailman tomorrow. Marked "Julie, Colorado Springs".

VeronicaAus: OK - gross question coming...Is her poop solid or runny?

Me: solid.

VeronicaAus: Oh.Thought it might be runny. That's when my cat's poop was stinkiest. OK - you say you haven't changed her food...maybe you need to. Maybe she needs to eat something different?

Me: Like rat poison?

VeronicaAus: No, no, no. Does Ashlie ever go outside?

Me: Only when she tries to escape out the front door, at which point I either kick her in the gut or....no, no, no. Just kidding. I scoop her up gingerly and then chunk her back in the house and watch her land on her feet.

NancyD: If she's not going outside, grow her a bowl of grass. Just regular ol' grass that you get the seeds for at the hardware store to overseed your lawn. Ryegrass. Wheatgrass. Whatever. Leave it where she can eat it. She will.

Me: Hmmm. Don't cats eat grass when they need to barf? 'Cause she barfs plenty already. Cat yack, we call it. Furballs, says the vet. We have her on special furball-reducing chow, which maybe sorta a little bit seems to have helped.

VeronicaAus: For the fur balls - a little oil for her to lick up will help. My cats like the oil from a can of tuna.

Lissa: Ok, so am I the only one who started humming "Smelly Cat" when she saw the title to this thread? I am wondering if some well-meaning little boys haven't been sneaking the kitty some treats.

VeronicaAus: I sing that song to my cat ALL.THE.TIME. His breath is RANK.

Me: It's the tuna.

Ginger InGer: I am sooooo NOT a cat person.. but I felt bad for ya, so I googled. (by the way, did you know there's a website called smellypoop.com???) ick! ok, i found this... and i'm not looking anymore LOL i cant believe Ive been googling cat poop..:* http://www.kittencare.com/askKC_Tummy_Troubles.html

Marcia: You may not have changed her food but the company may have changed their recipe. Try another one (preferably dry), can't get any worse right?

Cat-Scrapper: Changing her cat food may help.

Goodie: "Smelly cat... smelly cat.... It's not your fauuuuuuuuuulllllllt!"

Elaine: What kind of food is she eating? (Brand) Some make the poo stink worse than others. Significantly so.

Me: Meow Mix Hairball Control

wannaBrich: I would try changing her food. I agree with the others who mentioned feeding her a higher quality of food.

Carrie: Blaming the poor kids for not flushing. Shame on you! :) I'm with those who are suggesting changing the food.

Melissa: Am I the only one who thinks Cowtown Stacy does not like this cat?

Tonya: Get a better food.

Jacy: My mom works part time at a vets office........I'm awaitng a call back from her, and I'll let you know what she has to say.

Amy: She might have an impacted anal gland that is trying to fire off. That is the worst stench ever out off a cat's rear. Best bet for something like that is for the vet to give her a quick rotorouter job with his finger. Gross, I know, but it works wonders. My Meiko has had this happen a couple times. I also agree that she needs a better cat food.

Lori: This was my first thought, too. Does her rear end smell too? Not just after she's gone but other times? I don't mean you need to stick your nose right near her butt, but when you are petting her, scratch her back near her tail. She should raise her butt up and you'd smell it right away. We thought she had just gone poop, but it ALWAYS smelled, even if we bathed her. Turns out, she had a plugged anal gland. Vet said it was one of the worst he'd seen. GROSS!

Lindsay: My kitty's impacted anal gland ruptured through his lower abdomen. Talk about gross and stinky! Had to have surgery to repair that one....rotorouter wasn't going to do the trick.

Fran: Ok...I have no advice on your stinky cat, but this thread is CRACKING.ME.UP. Seriously, I have tears running down my face...is it just me?!

Heidiinak: NO, its not only you! I am dieing here. LOL!

Jacy: Okay Stacy....recommendation from mom....If there's been no change in food, and if she's not having loose stools, it could be that she's under some stress and that alone could be the cause.

Me: 'Tis true that lately, I haven't liked her very much. Maybe she's stressed out 'cause she can tell! LOL!

Kim: I would do a diet change to a higher quality food. let us know how poor stinky kitty is doing!

NancyD: So many posts over stinky cat poop......I'm LAUGHING!!!!!!!!!!!

AmyJoy: WHY am I reading this??I don't have a cat. I don't even LIKE cats...What's wrong with ME!?!?

Teresa: Ditto. This thread is very entertaining!

Emmylou: Another vote for switching from Meow Mix.

----------------------

So. I'm switching her food.

If *that* doesn't work, the last person to comment will receive a nice, rank, 14-pound box in the mail. Maybe with airholes, maybe not.

Methinks this blog has just sunk to a new low.

LOL!!

BLOG CHALLENGE: Autobiography

I recently read the authorized biography of Texas oilman and entrepreneur Clayton Williams. The book it titled "Claytie", but it's the subtitle that gives more of a hint as to the contents of the book: the heights of glory... or the depths of hell.

When I was in college, majoring in Social Life and English on the Side, I often joked that my first book, a memoir type of thing, would be titled "Heifers in the Kitchen". I still haven't published (let alone written) that first book, but when I do, that title will still be in the running, I'm sure.

As I finished reading Claytie, I found myself brainstorming. What WOULD the subtitle be on my autobiography? Would it reflect my funny, light-hearted side? Would it reflect my deep faith and spiritual side? What about my career as a work-at-home Mom? What one phrase would sum up my life in a nice, neat little package?

I'm gonna brainstorm here, just for fun.
The challenge? You do the same, for you. :)
(And heck... if you can think of a subtitle for MINE, feel free to comment.) :)

STACY: I said smile!

STACY: Heifers in the Kitchen

STACY: Life, Friendship, and the Pursuit of Scrappiness

STACY: Picnics, Parades and Pumpkin Guts

STACY: Choose Joy! (or else)

STACY: Just Lettin' It All Hang Out

STACY: An Open Book

STACY: Still Stacy After All These Years

BLOG CHALLENGE: Worry - Guilt

My friend Joe (in Brooklyn) (linked in my sidebar) blogged this morning about worry.
Without his permission, I'm copying and pasting his text here, and making it my blog challenge on ScrapShare for this week. I think it's an interesting topic to explore, and that it will open some good dialogue about how we handle the situations life throws at us. Here's his post:

I worry about money - of having it and not having it. I worry about my kids -
their health and their behavior. I worry about my health - my already tired joints and bones. I worry. A lot. Too much. At times, it dictates how I live. Out of desperation I attempt to make my world smaller hoping that I can do a better job of managing all the things and people I worry about. This, of course, isn’t helpful as it is painstakingly clear that I’m unable to manage it all on my own. In fact, things only get worse when I reign things and people in.
Has this been your experience?
And let’s just have a little alter call:
What do you worry about?

Here's the comment I left for him:

I’m not a big worrier. In fact, just this week, my 16 year old daughter accused me of being overly optimistic all the time. Somehow, she made it an insult. LOL! BUT… I do suffer from unnecessary guilt. If I spend too much at the grocery store, or use too many cell phone minutes and have an overage, or if I overeat to the point of discomfort, or lose my patience with the kids, etc etc etc, I don’t just feel guilt. I feel IMMENSE guilt that quite literally makes me sick. I don’t know that it’s a form of worry, per se, but it’s just as unhealthy.

And now, to elaborate.
This summer and now into early fall has been an emotionally exhausting time for us. As we've battled depression, the new school year, health issues, and a recent near-tragedy, our family has really been through the ringer.

As much as it would've made sense to worry about it all, I can't say that I did. Well, let me check that. Of course, there were aspects of things that I DID worry about. But it wasn't the kind of worry that dibilitated me, or held me back, or caused me stress. Quite the opposite, I found that in those times, I felt a sense of hope and calm - a calm that didn't even make sense to me. I believe that the calmness and lack of worry/fear was a gift from God, but that's another post.

However, I suffer from such deep guilt that it sometimes keeps me in my bed, causes me to lose my appetite and then later, to binge. When I had pneumonia, I didn't feel worried about the things I was unable to accomplish on my list of THINGS THAT MUST GET DONE NOW THAT THE KIDS ARE IN SCHOOL. Instead, I felt dread and guilt that I was letting the family down, and my church down, and my clients down, and my friends down, and even the dumb cat down.

Throughout the aftermath of the near-tragedy (which I haven't blogged about, and won't, for the sake of privacy of those involved), I felt guilt that I could've done more, prevented it from happening, etc. (In my heart of hearts, I know I couldn't have; it's just the process with which I deal with things.)

When we're at church, and a volunteer group comes, I feel guilt if the singing sounds weak, or if the lunch served isn't hot, or if the Fortress kids are especially unruly. None of those things are within my power to control, and it makes no sense for me to feel guilty about it. But I do.

Maybe guilt's not even the right word. Do you have a better one?

When I was an older teen, I made many, many mistakes. By the time I got to college, I'd given up my damaging lifestyle and returned to my faith, but I couldn't let go of the guilt. My friend (in fact, to this day, one of the best friends I've ever had, and I'm posting his full name in the hopes that someday he'll google his name and find himself here, and thus, find ME, 'cause I lost him and would love to reconnect) Eric Reynolds (who I've heard lives in Georgia now, to help wih the googling, LOL), gave me advice that still speaks to my heart all these years later. He said, "Stacy, why do you keep asking for forgiveness for that? Why can't you let it go? Why don't you trust God? You've asked Him to forgive you. He has. So now, everytime you bring it up again, He's like, 'Uh, Stace? I have no idea what you're talking about.' 'Cause He's forgiven you. It's gone from his memory. It's wiped off the chalk board. He has no recollection of it. You're forgiven. The only thing you can do now is forgive yourself."

I've struggled with guilt my whole life, I guess.
Remorse isn't quite the right word, either, because it's stronger than that.

Your turn. Self-analyze. What do you worry about? On the count of three, go.

a glimpse into the heart of me, January 2007

I made this list 8 months ago, and found it again today. I'm posting it here so I'll be able to find it when I'm ready to scrapbook it. I think it'll be a cool page in my Book of Me!

1. I procrastinate everything. If there's a deadline to be met, I wait 'til the last minute. Always.

2. I tend to do my best work under pressure.

3. I'm lousy at finding the right words when speaking out loud, but if I can sit down with pen and paper, the perfect words tumble out with no effort.

4. I'd rather go hungry than have to make lunch for myself.

5. In general, I don't much like kids, but I adore and cherish my own and can't imagine my life without them. I love my friends' kids from the depths of my heart too, but only because I love my friends so much.

6. I have a huge circle of friends, but only a dozen or so who really know my heart, and only a handful who are real enough to hold me accountable when I need to be held accountable.

7. Darren and I both have 4 siblings apiece.

8. Between all that family, and our multitude of friends, we can't think of anyone we'd want to raise our kids if something were to happen to us.

9. I'd rather eat potatoes in any form for dessert than dessert itself.

10. I wish I could afford a housekeeper. I wish it daily!

11. Sometimes, I forget how overweight I've become. I still think of myself as a cute, slightly chubby girl, and when I pass a mirror, I think, "What the...."

12. I'm a voracious reader. I can't go to sleep until I've read something... whether it be a few chapters of a book or a magazine or even the back of a shampoo bottle if that's all that's available.

13. I can't dance. I wish I could, but it's just not in me!

14. I'm proud of the relationship I have with my daughter. She's mad at me right this minute, but I'm proud that we can talk about it and that she can be honest with me about being mad at me!

15. I feel too young to have a 15-year old daughter. I'm 37.

16. I never finished college, and it's my one life regret.

17. I dream of getting my degree someday, but in my head, even after all these years, I *still* keep changing majors.

18. I married my best friend, and that has made all the difference.

19. I keep a tin of Altoids on my bedside table.

20. I'm deeply faithful, but I wouldn't call myself "religious".

21. I get cranky with people who can't make decisions.

22. Being spontaneous keeps me young.

23. I have no patience for people who refuse or are unwilling to change circumstances which make them miserable.

24. Farts are funny.

25. The best days are those when the weather allows the windows to be raised, and my music is blaring, and the house is clean. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

rut roh

I think she was my first crush. Well, no. That's not true. Davey Leineweaver was my first crush. I used to place my 5-year-old self on the street corner in front of my house and watch him play across the way. Until he threw sawdust in my little brother's face. I hated Davey after that. But I digress.

First crush or not, I did love Mrs. Wright. She was my 2nd Grade teacher, and I thought she was so GLAMOROUS and BEAUTIFUL. And to top it off, she was so incredibly NICE - soft-spoken, encouraging, but authoritative at the same time. I loved her. LOVED her. Her classroom was decorated with bright yellow smiley faces everywhere you looked. The clock was a smiley face - I remember that specifically. On Fridays, we played Bingo, and the prizes were pieces of Super Bubble bubble gum. She had a huge container of it underneath her desk.

I was shy in 2nd Grade. No, really, I'm serious! I was PAINfully shy. (Decided in 8th Grade that life would never be fun if I didn't come out of my shell.... so I came out and never looked back.) But in second grade, I was so shy - and so in love with Mrs. Wright - that I wouldn't even ask permission to go to the restroom. Instead, I sat at my desk and wet my pants. Twice. Maybe three times. I still feel the heat in my cheeks when I remember how humiated I was. Even so... it was too much to consider asking permission.

At some point, my mother got tired of bringing new clothes up to the school, so she and Mrs. Wright cooked up a plan. Folded neatly in a brown paper bag in my locker at the back of the classroom was an outfit. A green jumpsuit. A double-knit green jumpsuit. A HANDMADE, puke-green, double knit pantsuit that I ABHORRED. I cried every time Mom made me wear that horrendous monstrosity of an outfit. So she thought it'd be the perfect thing for my locker. The new rule was, I'd have to change in to THAT if I wet my pants again. It fixed me. From that day on, I found the courage to ask to go potty.

I may have to check eBay for a comparably horrendous double-knit jumpsuit for Ian, 'cause today, I got a call from the school nurse, who had Ian in her office. With soiled pants. I asked him later, "Why didn't you ask to go to the bathroom? Were you too shy?" (Ian, you know, is TERRIBLY shy.)

"No," he said. "Well, actually, I was too shy. Because I knew she would say no, because another kid asked to go pee right before I had to poop, and she said no to him, so I knew I couldn't go either."

I'm fairly certain that Ian doesn't have a crush on his teacher. I mean, after all.... Ms. Collins is a GIRL, and Ian hates girls. Which gives me an idea..... I don't need to search for a puke-green double-knit jumpsuit for Ian's locker. Anything pink will do.

the week in pictures

Ian's teacher said

that if he's gonna

wear tie shoes

to school, he needs

to learn to tie them.

Okay, then. Darren

showed him how,

and he's doing great!

Dani got her first-ever

paycheck. GO DANI!

Too bad for her, though.

Since she ran her cell phone

bill SKY HIGH last month,

she had to sign the

whole check over to me.

Aidan brought his first book home from 1st grade. His homework was to read it to me. I love hearing him read. His inflection - especially when he does the "voices" of the characters in the story - is FANTASTIC. The kid's gonna be in drama class as soon as it's available to him. Mark my words.

accepting gifts

Tonight, I was offered a very generous gift, and my first impulse was to say, "I can't accept it." Why? I don't know. I always feel unworthy of gifts, especially when they come at unexpected times and from people I'd never expect them from.

And tonight wasn't the first one. Last week, one of my best friends offered to buy me an airplane ticket to come see her. I turned her down. I can't afford to go on my own dime, but it seems so ... I dunno, presumptuous isn't the right word, 'cause I never thought about HER paying when I decided I couldn't afford it... but I think you know what I'm saying. Don't you? lol. I can't explain it. I don't feel deserving of such a gift. Even though she offered and WANTS to do it. I feel weird letting her.

And tonight's gift - I accepted it, although reluctantly at first, and then GREEDILY at last, LOL... but I still feel awkward about it, even though I know that the giver feels joyful about giving it and was so pleased when I accepted it.

I've always been a terrible receiver of gifts.
I always feel unworthy.
I always feel greedy, even if it's something I haven't asked for, or even dreamed of.

Tonight, I feel overwhelmed. Humbled. And yes... totally unworthy of the gift bestowed upon me. I tried to be gracious, but MAN. I don't think I pulled it off. Mostly, I was just speechless.

the challenge:
So what about you?
Are you a gracious receiver?
Tell us about a gift you've received, and how you reacted to it.
Tell us about a gift you've GIVEN, and how the recipient's reaction made you feel.

avoiding a relapse... and "Never Wanted Nothing More"

Yesterday, I went in for my 2-week follow-up x-ray and doctor's appointment. I guess the x-ray was clear enough, because the doc didn't call in a new round of antibiotics today. (He mentioned that he might need to, after hearing a faint crackling in my lungs yesterday.)

So... I spent the remainder of yesterday celebrating my newfound "health"; I spent the day at Kristi's and then at Cara's. I'd missed my friends SO much. I'm no good at staying cooped up in the house. Hmpf! But by mid-afternoon, I was wiped out. I actually fell asleep on Cara's couch.

Last night, I had to take Dani shopping for the final touches for her Homecoming dress. She needed shoes, a strapless bra, and jewelry. We managed to knock out all of the shopping in only 4 stops and less than 3 hours, but by the end of it, I could barely keep my head on straight, I was so fatigued. I was in bed before ten o'clock.

I slept all night.
After the kids were off to school, I went back to bed for a nap, and woke up at noon.
At 12:30, I fell asleep again and slept 'til 3. I feel like I could sleep again right now.

A little while ago, I got up and unloaded the dishwasher. By the time I finished the top rack, I was sweating and short of breath. They're not kidding when they say that pneumonia takes a long time to get over. It makes me cranky that I FEEL fine, but have so little energy. I'm ready to GO again! But making myself slow down. I do NOT want to relapse. I can't wait 'til I can gogogogo like I usually do. This fatigue is for the birds!

----

In other news... I watched Good Morning America this morning and caught a couple of performances by country great Kenny Chesney. Let me assure you: even though I'm a Texan through and through, I'm not a country music fan. But one of his songs this morning just made me SMILE. I've been singing it all day. I love love LOVE the lyrics. I'm gonna buy it. Heidi, are you SO PROUD of me?? :)

Every single verse is sweet, but it's the chorus I've been singing all day.

Well, I'm what I am and I'm what I'm not
and I'm sure happy with what I've got
I live and love and laugh a lot
and that's all I need

I never wanted nothing more
and I never wanted nothing more

remember

Dani woke up sick that day. I can't remember what was wrong with her, only that she went back to bed, and so did I. Aidan slept in his crib down the hall. He was 9 months old. I was 7 months pregnant with Ian, and happy to have the extra sleep.

But it was short-lived. My phone rang. It was my dear friend, Karen. "Turn on Good Morning America," she said. I did. Just in time to see the second plane hit. I remember saying, "Terrorists." And I remember it being so WEIRD, that the word came off my lips so easily - a word I'd probably never mumbled before. A word I'd rarely even heard. But my heart knew, just as the hearts of hundreds of thousands of Americans knew that bright September morning.

Darren's building, the tallest in Fort Worth at 40 stories, and situated near the Federal Building, evacuated. He came home. I was so thankful to have my family together, watching the footage, crying, unable to clear the lump from my throat. But we were all there, all safe. All scared. Where next? Were there more planes in the air?

And for days afterward... I couldn't tear myself away from the TV. I wanted information. I wanted resolution. I prayed that survivors would come out from under the rubble. I wept a lot... for the child I was carrying - Ian - and for my two other children... that they'd grow up in a new world where Terrorism was a real threat. We all lost a lot of innocence that day.

We took down our flags last week - the American one and the Texas one that fly on our two stoops all summer. Darren hadn't yet gotten around to putting them in storage, though I kept nagging him to do so. Last night, he took the American flag and put it back in its holder. "WHY?" I asked.

"Tomorrow's 9-11," he answered.

I'm ashamed that it hadn't occured to me.
How many of us woke up this morning, turned on the TV, and said, "Oh yah. This is 9-11."

There are those who think the footage shouldn't be shown every year... that we should move on without reliving it... that's it too hard, too unbearable... that it somehow glorifies the terrorists.

I disagree.

I think we NEED to see it. I don't think that showing the images in ANY way glorifies the terrorists. I think that one week every year isn't too much to have to bear. Without those images, we become callous. Not because we're uncaring people. We just become numb to the pain; we forget the loss. In this instant gratification world, where we move so fast we often don't take time to EXPERIENCE things, I'm glad that, for these few days each year, we're forced to slow down and really REMEMBER. So it makes us uncomfortable? Good. We SHOULD be uncomfortable.

God bless the families who were forever changed on 9-11.
God bless America.

heartbreak

Ian is such a shy kid.

No, really. PAINFULLY shy.

He hates compliments, hates kisses, hates ANYthing that makes him stand out.

He even sorta hates people. LOL! At least, until he gets to know them.

I was really afraid of how he'd handle Kindergarten, because he's such an introvert. He's done a great job, though. He finds his "quite me time" on the playground at recess, and that seems to be enough for him.

Every day, I ask him if he's made any friends. Usually, he growls at me and says, "NO." Yesterday, he offered a bit more info.

"Well. There's this one kid who I think is cool."

"REALLY! What's his name?"

"Olaph."

"Olaf, huh? So you wanna be friends with Olaf?"

"No. I just said I think he's cool."

"What makes him cool?"

(tucking chin in his "you're embarrassing me" way) "I just think he looks cool."

"Well, why don't we invite Olaf to play at our house after school?"

Ian, to my surprise, thought that was a FABULOUS idea.
We sat down right then and wrote a note to Olaph.
Ian picked blue construction paper.

"To Olaph", he wrote.

"Olaph? With a p-h?" I asked.

"Yes," said Ian. "I saw it on his folder." lol

"To Olaph. You're invited to play at my house after school." wrote Ian. Then he handed me the marker and said, "You write the rest."

So I wrote, "Your Mom can call my Mom and make plans. Our phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

Then Ian finished it with, "From, Ian."

He tucked it in his backpack and had big hopes for a playdate with Olaph.

Today after school, Darren asked, "Did you give your note to Olaph?"

"Yes," Ian answered, then he broke into tears.

"But he just made a Picachu sound and said he didn't want to come!"

Oh, the heartache. Took so much courage for Ian to write and deliver that note. I hope he'll try again!

the best laid plans....

About 10 days ago, I got an idea. When I get an idea, I can't sit on it. I becomes TOP PRIORITY and I obsess about it until I see it through. This time, the idea was simple: paint the molding in my scraproom.

See, I'd already coerced Darren in to installing the brackets for the shelves I wanted to hang, and one night, I decided that NOW was the time to paint the molding. BEFORE he installed the shelves. How hard could it be, right? The molding was already primed (it's been primed for 3 years!), and I had the paint, so long as I just painted the molding the same color as the walls. As much color and texture as I have going on in my tiny space, I decided that using all one color wasn't a bad idea. So I emptied my scraproom, depositing piles of scrap paraphernalia into the kitchen, the butler's pantry, and the family room, and got to painting. It went GREAT, until the next morning, with the sun shining, I realized that the paint was a different color entirely. How could that be?? I KNEW I'd used the same paint as was on the walls. But the walls suddenly had a pinkish tint, while the molding had a garish greenish-yellow tint. Side by side, they both looked disgusting.

So. I repaintd the entire room. With a brush. Now it all matches. THEN I decided to paint the ceiling, too. It's all a creamy white. (Behr Pot of Cream if you wanna get specific.

But... things can never be that easy. No, of course not. I'd had Dani paint the shelves for me, and I handed her the paint I wanted... Cranberry Whip... the same paint I'd used on the window frames and in the adjacent family room. She painted away. When we brought the shelves in to install, I realized, with a sneer on my face, that they didn't match my window frames. HOW COULD THAT BE?? I knew I'd used the same paint as was in the family room. I KNEW it.

I was wrong. Silly me. My scraproom was the first room we painted when we bought the house, so that that I could get right to work and start making some money. We didn't do the family room for another SIX months. Couldn't have been the same paint. No wonder the cream didn't match the cream, and the red didn't match the red.

It's all matchy matchy now, though! And I'm a happy scrapper.

EXCEPT....

last Monday, while at Cracker Barrel with the kids after school, I started feeling bad. Achy. Run-down. Headache. By 6 o'clock that evening, I had chills and fever. I went to bed at 8:30 that night. ME! The next day, the fever was out of control, and I started feeling that familiar "crinkling" in my lungs when I breathed, so I made an appointment for the next morning, and an x-ray confirmed my suspicions: pneumonia. I can't believe how quickly it came on! But I caught it early, so hopefully it'll be a much easier recovery than 4 years ago. But because of the pneumonia, being weak and feeling awful and short of breath, but mostly because of doctor's orders to stay off of my feet ('cause I'd've pushed myself to the LIMIT to get this room done), my scraproom remained in a state of disarray. The ladder was still standing in the middle of the room. The dining table was stacked with piles and piles of stuff. You could hardly get through the back door for all the junk.

Darren and Dani spent the weekend with me sitting in a cushy chair directing them where to put what. They've been SUCH troopers. My room is almost back to normal, except now it has some new features. I can't wait to get everything just like I want it. I'm ready to PLAY! And I reallllllly need to work. I've got several jobs waiting, and bills to pay.

Here's a sneak peak. It's what I see from my perch at the computer desk in the family room. It makes me happy. :)

first week of school

Ian started Kindergarten last Monday. I didn't expect him to love it. He didn't.

But he didn't HATE it, either. He was even excited that morning, and as I brushed his hair, he said, "Hey. I look like a pretty good Kindergartener!" He had a spring in his step as we walked up the street to school, and was fine all the way down the hallway to his classroom. But when we stepped inside and heard two other little boys crying their heads off, he stopped in his tracks and refused to go another step. I'd nudge him forward, and he'd take three steps back.

I said, "Ian, you can sit anywhere you want. How 'bout in this chair, at this table with all these boys?"

"No."

"Then how 'bout at that table over there, where no one is sitting yet?"

"Okay," he said.

"But you know, with all those empty seats, a girl might come and sit by you."

He immediately took the seat at the boys' table. lol!

He was timid, hesitant and a little unnerved, but he didn't cry. I reminded him that Aidan would be right down the hall the whole day, and then I walked away. He would not say goodbye to me, and wouldn't give me a hug. TOUGH GUY. Hmpf.

After school, I took the three kids to Cracker Barrel for dessert, a tradition that Dani and I began when SHE was a Kindergartener. We've done it every first day of school since. Aidan told us about his day (he LOVES 1st grade - no surprise there), and Dani told us about hers, but Ian had nothing to tell.

"I don't remember," he answered when I asked what he did.
"Did your teacher read any books?"
"Yes. Three."
"What were they?"
"The first one was called The Kissing Hand."
"And what were the others?"
"I don't remember."
"Hmm. What else did you do?"
"I said I don't remember."
"Ian, surely you remember SOMETHING."
"Don't ask me what I did at school, because I DON'T REMEMBER."

So I asked him if he liked it. He replied with an emphatic NO. At bedtime, he said, "I think I really DID like Kindergarten." Then he grinned sheepishly, tucked his chin, and shielded his eyes.

Ian is a clone of his daddy. They look exactly alike, they're both scary smart, and they're both painfully shy. Darren has largely outgrown and learned to deal with his shyness, but he still has a hard time in crowds and at large parties. Ian is exactly the same way. One time last year, I invited a neighbor girl over to play with him, shortly after Aidan started school. Ian spent the whole time hiding under the coffee table, and refused to come out. I never made THAT mistake again! (Ian HATES girls!!) His favorite thing about the school day is recess, but not because he gets to play. It's because he gets to be ALONE. Every day, I ask, "Who'd you play with on the playground?" He looks at me like I'm stupid for asking again, and says, "Myself."

He's gonna do just fine. :)