In order to dispel any rumors surrounding my absence, like maybe........that I had passed in some holiday incident involving a leaky tree stand, a puddle of water, and a faulty wire on a 100 count string of Christmas lights, I decided I better check in with y'all.  I did get choked on a tortilla chip tonight, but....thankfully, I was able to dislodge it.....and that is as close to death as I've been since we last spoke.  Let me just tell you.......since we talked last, we have become a lazy, gluttonous, lethargic people group over here.

I have eaten everything that would sit still long enough and the sugar and Coke thing?.......out the window.  We've had so much rich food over the last week that if I were to cut my legs shaving, I'm certain that straight cream cheese would ooze out.  "Davis, hurry and get me a Band-Aid....I'm losing a lot of cream cheese in here!"  I'm going to continue this obscene food fest until January 1 when I will resolve to become a sensible, self controlled, productive member of society, once again.  This means I will want to make the most of the next 24 hours.

None of us were really feeling back to ourselves by Christmas.  We were still coughing and snorting and feeling like we needed frequent naps.  We postponed our annual Christmas breakfast to New Year's Day because we figured no one would want to come to this den of pathogens in which we live.  Carson was still running fever and had to miss Christmas Eve at my in-laws' house.  We have a new baby on that side of the family and couldn't risk getting anyone in her family sick.  Look at our adorable, new great-niece and her attentive big brother.      

Christmas Day was nice and quiet.  We got up and they opened four months of shopping in about 10 minutes and then we had a big breakfast and went back to bed for 3 or 4 hours.  It was a glorious and relaxing day. 
We finally showered and shed our pajamas just in time to go to my mother's house for a highly anticipated Christmas dinner.  She did not disappoint.  We all enjoy her prowess in the kitchen. 

 

Let's ring in the New Year right, Dawgs!  Hail State!!!    

Well, sickness has descended upon us.  Blair got this flu-like thing Thursday and, despite my purchase of every cleaning product containing the word, "Clorox", Carson woke up with it yesterday morning.  Unfortunately, when he woke up, he was at his cousin's house, where he'd spent the night and so now........he's sick too.

From our home to yours, we bring pathological tidings. 

Basically, it's a short-lived illness, but it really packs a punch.  High fever, headache, body aches, and a chesty cough....that kind of cough that keeps you expecting a lung to shoot out across the room at any moment.  I've had the aches and cough part but not much fever......until tonight.  Until now, I have remained upright to tend to these "ankle biting, bacteria ridden, disease carrying children of God".....as Madea so accurately describes kids.

The only thing that could make this more special is if Davis catches it, too.  When Davis is sick, everyone is apprised of his condition on the quarter hour....you know, just in case your sympathy starts to wane or in the event you mistakenly thought you were sicker than him.

This was not, at all, what I had in mind for our last weekend before Christmas.  We still have things to do.  We had weekend plans.  The candlelight service at church.  Gifts to deliver.  A party.  More people to visit.....people, who would not appreciate a visit from us in our current state. 

"Merry Christmas....we brought you some fudge........and swollen mucus membranes with post nasal drip, a violent cough, and aching that will make you wish that was the Death Angel on top of your tree". 

Yeah, people don't really appreciate Christmas visits like that from those who smell like menthol and have Kleenex lint hanging from their swollen nostrils.....nor do they like to sit next to such people at church, so some of us stayed home today.

Fighting over the vibrating heating pad and pouring Advil down our throats wasn't in the plan.      

We always have a lot of expectations about the Christmas holidays.  It's probably the holiday for which we build our expectations the highest.  We spend over a month planning and preparing to execute this idea that we have in our heads.......an idea constructed by Hallmark Christmas movies, snowy Christmas card scenes, Bing Crosby, Visa commercials, and romanticized Christmases past. 

  When, in reality,

There's always something that doesn't go smoothly or according to our best laid plans.

The turkey is dry.  The kids have intestinal flu.  The gift didn't fit.  One string of lights goes out.  Mother-in-law overestimates you by two sizes.  Backorders.  Someone didn't seem as excited as you imagined.  Travel delays.  Relatives, who stay too long.  No hot water.  Bad weather.  Being caught without a gift for someone.  Having to run the air conditioner so you can all wear your Christmas clothes.        

Really, the Christmas story is full of expectations that weren't met either.  I'm sure Mary didn't plan on being a virgin mother and it probably dashed her parents' expectations for her, too.  The situation wasn't the start that Joseph had dreamed of for his new life with Mary.  Mary didn't expect to be away from home without her mother when her first child was born.  The world didn't expect the Savior to be born in a stable and placed in a trough.  The shepherds weren't who you'd expect the angels to invite to see the newborn King.  You wouldn't expect Him to grow up and die in the place of those who loved Him and those who didn't....even those who weren't born yet...like us.     

I guess if we look to our circumstances and food and gifts and weather and family and that one overinflated day to fulfill all of our Christmas dreams, we'll most likely end up disappointed in one way or another.....on some level. 





   

Christmas is the time of year when we all try to make our rounds and visit with those we love.  Our family has a list of friends who we try to spend time with over the holidays, but there are few visits that my children anticipate more than our annual Christmas "date night" with Mrs. Wright. 

Mrs.Wright was our next door neighbor.....two houses ago.  It was our first house.  The house we returned to after our honeymoon.  The little abode where we brought both of our children home from the hospital.  Mrs. Wright lost her husband while we were neighbors, too.  Between us, we experienced a lot of life changes while we lived next door to each other. 

She will turn 90 on Saturday and I can only hope to be as active, social, and spry as her.......if I make it to 90!  She's still living life to the fullest and we treasure the time we get to spend with her!  There are some people that you just cant leave behind.....no matter where you move.  My kids would put her up against Mrs.Claus any day! 
Also in the news.......

*The tree is still not taking any water.  We have a 2 gallon tree stand full of stagnant water.......probably breeding mosquitos under our tree skirt as we speak.  The tree has gone from a lovely, deep green color to more of a greenish gray shade, but....oh.....my.....word.......it smells so good!  If you stop by, we just ask that you not walk too quickly across the rug and generate any static electricity sparks.   

*I've been making bows every night to try and stay ahead of the store's gift wrapping demands.  Having bows already made really speeds up the wrapping process.  If I had a penny for every bow that I've made this month, I'd have.....well, a whole lot of pennies.  Yesterday, we observed that people had hit panic mode in their Christmas shopping.  We've even had some male shoppers this week, so you know Christmas is coming soon.  While the Advent calendar is widely used to chart the progression of the season, spotting men in the stores is the most accurate indicator of Christmas' approach.   

*Carson is allergic to peanuts like so many other kids these days.  Davis bought him some Wonder Butter, which is a nut free peanut butter substitute made from soybeans.  It's amazing how close the taste, texture, and color are!  If your child is allergic to peanuts or if they're not allowed to bring peanut butter to school because of another child's allergy, you may want to try this stuff!  It's really good! 

Like anyone with life threatening food allergies, trying new things is a little disconcerting for Carson.....especially when it looks and smells so much like the thing he's been taught to avoid his whole life.  As you can see, he was apprehensive as he got his Epi-Pen before he took the first bite even though it says "peanut free" on the jar about 25 times.  He liked it....just has to get used to the texture that's new to him.  Bless his heart....
* I made a couple of large purchases today.....for myself.  It is required that some of your Christmas bonus is to be used for things that you'd generally not just run out and buy for yourself, right?  That's what I thought.  Just checking.  I've felt like some kind of illegal professional today.....doling out those bills that require inspection under a light.  It was fun while it lasted.   

Thanks for your patience with my infrequent posting this month!  Like you, I'm being pulled in all directions with more responsibilities and obligations this season of the year and I'm really enjoying time with my family and friends.  While I absolutely love the Christmas season, resuming a normal schedule and routine in January is something I always look forward to right about now!

I'll check back in when I can! 

   

   

 

      
          

It's that time of year when we all find ourselves out and about more.  Out in the bustle.  Traveling around in the frantic pace of the holidays.  Shopping for long periods.  Eating out more frequently.  Attending parties.  We're in shopping malls, hotels, stores, churches, banquet halls, restaurants.  Always on the go and away from home a little more than usual. 

Today, I would like to discuss a sobering topic which all of this "going and doing" brings to the forefront of every woman's mind during this time of year......

The public restroom.

Here, at Motherhood and Muffin Tops, we like to cover a wide and varied scope of contemporary, relevant....pressing topics and, in keeping with that effort, we cannot overlook the challenges we, women, encounter in the public restroom.  Day after day....after day.  I feel that, if we talk about such issues and bring them out of the shadows, then we will all feel better for doing so. 

1) Perhaps the most distressing obstacle that women have to navigate through in a public restroom these days is the automatic flush.  As the daughter of a germ conscious mother, I was always taught that you never.......ever, ever, ever, ever..... make contact with a public restroom toilet seat.  Doing so will ensure immediate contraction of incurable and fatal diseases.  I was never told what the diseases were.......just that they were diseases and you didn't want them.  You might as well go play in the red hazard bags in the dumpster behind the pathology lab as to sit bare legged on a public toilet seat.  True or not, I have bought into this way of thinking and as the Good Book says......even in my older age, I have not departed from it.  For this reason, I only utilize public restrooms when it is completely unavoidable.    

Since the functioning of the automatic flush relies heavily on contact for its timing accuracy, distressing issues can arise for those of us who were taught that sitting on a public toilet seat is not in accordance with the little known 11th commandment.  When one doesn't actually sit, it confuses the sensor.  It cannot process that concept......and so it does one of two things: 

   A)  It just starts flushing and flushing and flushing before you're done, spewing water everywhere and scaring you half out of your mind.  If it flushes prematurely, you can just forget it.....it's not going to flush again when you really are finished.  Automatic toilets take 15 minute mandatory OSHA breaks after each flush.  (And you do know that anything that accidentally falls into one of those industrial toilets during mid-flush....well, it will be in the Atlantic Ocean within 3 minutes.  They're just that formidable.)  

OR

   B) It will refuse to flush at all and there you will stand.  What is one to do?  I always wave my foot in front of the sensor a couple of times.  If that doesn't work, I tap the toilet seat with my shoe to play along with its little game and try to simulate seat contact.  I know if anyone is looking under the door to check for occupancy, they must wonder what I'm doing in there on one foot, but that is not for me to worry about.  If all of those methods fail, the last resort is to find that tiny, bacteria coated, black button that is on some toilets that will cause it to flush.....if you can locate it.  Oh, how I miss those big, silver levers that I could just stomp down with my foot as I exited the stall.   Flushing on demand.......it is a thing of the past.  A thing of beauty.   

2) I would be remiss not to mention the problems that arise when businesses do not install purse hooks on the back of their stall doors.  You've all been there.  There you are with your heavy purse, a couple of shopping bags from American Eagle, a hanging bag from Dillard's........oh, and your free panties in the pink striped bag and a white Styrofoam box containing the remnants of your lunch fajitas.....all while using your head to hold the door shut....you know, the one that has a big hole where the lock should be.  In this position, someone opening the unlockable door on your head can seriously throw off this delicate balancing act, resulting in undesirable and unsanitary consequences.

I'd challenge any man anywhere to keep a 10 lb purse on his shoulder and hold 4 bags and a half order of chicken fajitas from a squatting position....all while maintaining accuracy in shooting a target that's behind him.  Doing this effectively takes great skill that, too often, is not given proper recognition considering its high level of difficulty.  Leaning forward at the waist with bent knees can also cause dizziness and feelings of faintness as blood flow has a difficult time getting to where it needs to go in order to maintain consciousness.  This is why head rushes are common in women who are exiting the restroom and should not be cause for alarm. 

The last time I had to perform this "contortionistic" act, I thought about how a room full of men in some budget meeting at headquarters somewhere probably decided that eliminating the installation of purse hooks in the ladies' restrooms would be one way they could cut costs.  Oh, if they could only go in there with us and see how their decisions affect everyday people.  It would be crowded.....and a little embarrassing, but, oh, so enlightening for them.   

3) In today's skeleton crew economy, too often, we, women, find ourselves in the confines of the 3x4 toilet stall, standing on our head with blood pooling in our legs, only to discover that there is no toilet paper.  Why, just the other night, I had to pass some tissue under the partition to a poor lady stranded on the Cracker Barrel porcelain throne.  I could hear the desperation in her voice as it quivered.....pleading for anything I was willing to share with her under the metal wall that separated us.....the haves and the have nots.

In the worst of situations, you can even find yourself pulling at the little, tiny strands of paper left clinging to the cardboard tube at the end of a roll or frantically digging in your purse for a Wal-Mart receipt or anything made of paper or any other absorbent material.  As you're burrowing around in your purse, the automatic flusher feels that you've had more than ample time to complete any of the bodily functions and it goes to flushing.  Your time is up. 

Dang it.

It always helps to know that you're not alone in your struggles.  The next time you find yourself in a public restroom predicament, know that these trials are not unique to you.  There are women around the world who are also using the crowns of their heads to keep the door from swinging open while having the backs of their legs soaked with the sea spray of the premature automatic toilet. 

Let's stand together and support one another. 

We are not alone.

I hope Monday finds you in well equipped restrooms stocked with an embarrassment of toilet tissue riches.

            



 
      

              
    

Well, the Millers finally have a Christmas tree.  I can report, though, that the people, who wait until December 8 to shop for their live trees, will go home with ones that are not without their flaws.  I walked through the tree lot and looked around at all the rejects of those who'd shopped from November 27-December 7.  I asked the nice tree man if they had any others that could've been stashed away in the back and he just chuckled under his breath and assured me that I was looking at the best they had to offer.  He twirled a few around for me as I struggled to find one that would work.  The plight of the unsung Christmas tree salesman is not one that should be underestimated or overlooked.  I imagine spinning trees around for indecisive women all day is one of those jobs associated with a high incidence of alcohol abuse and frequent urges to step in out front of a bus.

The tree lot on December 8 is a lot like the island of misfit toys.  You just have to pick your poison.  Would you prefer a broken top, a sparse, scraggly bottom, brown needles, or a hole big enough for Santa to walk through?  I had to go with the hole.....hoping I could remedy the problem with placement, ribbon, and angles.

The tree hasn't drunk a drop since we brought it home.  I think, having not been chosen for so long along with the other ugly trees, that it had convinced itself that it would be in the burn pile on Christmas and had lost all its hope, given up, and quit taking nourishment.  Whatever the reason for its refusal to drink, we paid $80 for this soon to be dehydrated fire hazard, brought it home, set it in a bucket of water, and hooked it up to electricity.  That's sounds safe, right? 

I also put the cards in the mail today.  Mercy.  That. Is. A. Job.  We could almost all load up in the car in our Christmas clothes, drive to every house on our list, and wish each one a "Merry Christmas" in person with considerably less trouble than it is to complete the Christmas card process from beginning to end.    

I bought the last gift on my list today.  All of the presents are wrapped......I just have to make the bows.  Blair's coming home tomorrow, so I've been planning what I'll have ready for supper when she gets home.  Carson has exams coming up and projects due and a lot of basketball games and practices before Christmas.  We're busy, busy, busy at the store.  We've got a full weekend of parties and programs and gatherings.  And next week.....well, it's just as full as this one.   
   
I may be just a little stressed.  Monday night before my hair cut appointment on Tuesday, I dreamed that they found lice in my hair while I was getting it cut.  Forget the visions of sugarplums dancing and all that hoopla.  I'm over here with dreams of head lice and forgetting I'm on the tour of homes until I see people coming up on my porch with tickets in their hands.  I think it may be safe to say that I have a lot of inner Christmas stress that I'm trying to sort out in my dreams.

While I was getting out our big nativity set to put on the foyer table, I was quickly setting them in place so I could send the empty box back up to the attic with Davis.  I got busy doing other things and came back to the nativity later to finish it.  I noticed that the way that I'd hurriedly placed the wise men on the table....they weren't even looking at baby Jesus.  The myrrh guy was staring over at the Christmas tree.  The frankincense man was looking into the dining room...probably wondering when I was going to get around to decorating the dining table.  And the fellow with the gold......well, he was gazing out the window.....he must have seen his reflection in the glass and was checking to see if his crown was on straight. 

In my simple, third grade level mind, I thought that's just how we get at Christmas.  We've got our eyes on sparkly things and lists and dates and obligations........and ourselves.  There's always one more gift to buy.  One more table to decorate.  One more address to find.  One more party to attend.  One more person to visit.  One more dish to make.  And there we are...........looking everywhere except where we should be looking. 

I don't want to be like my ceramic wise men.  Looking off at other things.  Distracted.  Oblivious to the One of most importance, who is right there under my nose. 

It's HIS birthday.  It's HIS gift that I should be honoring.  It's HIS sacrifice that I should thinking of.  The fact that He left heaven and took on our fragile form and endured our cruel world, so that we could have a chance to be saved.....so that He could sympathize with our struggles......that's where our eyes should be.
My friend, Jean, shared this video on Facebook.  (For some reason, this isn't not showing up on some mobile devices)  I'm normally partial to classic, traditional songs, but this is one of the most beautiful Christmas songs I've ever heard.  It's what Christmas is all about. 

It's time to redirect my gaze. 
  

* I've been getting all these little coupons in the mail for free stuff and, like always, I go and redeem those suckers.  Bath and Body is always sending me free things, which I tuck away for stockings and happies.  And Victoria Secret sends us a coupon for a free pair of panties every week.  I'd understand it if we were big customers, but I usually only go to get their free stuff.  I'm sure when they see me come in there, they're like, "Barbara, get out the free panties.....here she comes."  I only redeem the ones for the more modest styles.....not the ones that could be confused for a slingshot and I always make it a point to mention that they're not for me so to help the girl, who's stuffing the pink tissue into my bag, combat her nausea. 

* After this week, I'd just like to say........Christmas lights are from Satan.  They are sent here to lead us into sin.  If you look carefully on the back of the box, I believe it says "Made in Hell".

*  I must have been subconsciously overwhelmed by all of the things that I had to do this week.  When I get overwhelmed, I have stressful dreams.  My stressful dreams always involve a deadline.  Friday night, I dreamed that I had several houses to go and decorate and I was thinking about how I should be back home by 4:00 that afternoon.  That's when the phone rang and I was reminded that my house was on the Christmas tour of homes that night starting at 6:00.  I'd forgotten.  While I drove to work, I tried to figure out how I would get my house ready in just two hours......seeing as how I'd left the kitchen dirty, furniture dusty, floors sticky, beds unmade, pilgrims and pumpkins out, and no Christmas tree or any sort of Christmas decorations, for that matter. (The dream was a frightening blending of real life and dream life.)  I've never been so happy to wake up as I was Saturday morning.......realizing that no one had forked out any money to come anywhere near my house that night.    

* Did you see where there was a blackout in Detroit a few days ago?  It was during the day, so it could've been worse.......except for the hundreds of people who were stuck in elevators all day.  Ok......just so you know and won't be caught off guard....if I'm ever trapped in an elevator....for seven hours......in the dark......without circulating, cold air.......when they finally get to me.....I will be with Jesus.  I also started thinking about whether I'd want to be trapped alone or with strangers.  I'd definitely want more than one stranger with me.........you know......witnesses. 

* Friday night, we got a phone call from Blair at college saying that her car had quit in the middle of a busy street.  She was blocking traffic right in front of Chick-fil-a and everyone knows it's dangerous to get between people and Chick-fil-a.  It was towed and now we wait for the mechanic's report tomorrow.  Saturday, Davis ran over some foreign object that slashed one of his tires.  Tonight, the washing machine refused to agitate.  In the last 48 hours, we've found ourselves in the market for a new car, tires, and a washing machine.  Oh, and did I mention.......it's Christmas?

*  Last night, Carson came down with a mild stomach bug.  Having a family member with a stomach virus really does something to your head.  My stomach's been "hurting" all day.  I feel like Fred Sanford......."oh, here it comes.....this is it......it's the big one".        

*  Tomorrow and Tuesday have been set aside to 1)  Go back to sleep after Carson leaves for school.  2)  Finish addressing our Christmas cards  3)  Pick out a tree/Get it in the stand/Light it/Decorate it.  4)  Decorate the outside of our house to dispel any rumors that we are unbelieving pagans.  5)  Decorate the rest of the house and fill the emptiness left by the pilgrims.  5)  Finish wrapping gifts and making bows for all of them. 6)  Get my hair cut.  7)  Go to the grocery store and expand our options beyond a can of evaporated milk, a box of saltines, and a brown banana. 

Well, I won't prolong your misery any longer.

Hope y'all have a good Monday!

                        

    


 





 

Thanksgiving was just wonderful!

Except......that whole thing I've been doing lately about not eating much sugar......well, that flew straight out the window, took a nose dive, and crashed to the ground in a fiery explosion.  My mother made her scrumptious caramel cakes and let me just tell you something........when those are in my field of vision, I lose all sense of control.  All. Sense. Of. Control.  If you put a slab of that in the microwave for 5-6 seconds and pour yourself a glass of ice cold milk........Merciful heavens!!  You will hear angels sing.

My mother and Aunt Gloria do 99.5% of the cooking and they use all of my Grandmother's old recipes.  Grandmother would be so proud of them!  Every year, we," next in line" generation, are given very minute food assignments.  They must think our cooking stinks.....or that we won't do something just right.  Whatever their reasoning, you will not hear us complaining and we all enjoy and appreciate the planning and work that they put into making our Thanksgiving perfect every year.  For all 40 of us! 

With Thanksgiving over, our neighborhood is now all aglow with the sparkle and twinkle of Christmas.  Wreaths, garlands, and trees with ribbons and lights adorn each house, heralding the beginning of the long awaited season!  Yeah....tomorrow night, two houses on our street will be part of the Christmas tour of homes, which will benefit our school's baseball team, so all of the neighbors got busy with their decorations in anticipation of the traffic that will come through for the event.  Except for us. 

If it's true what they say.....the landscaper's yard always needs mowing and the doctor's children always have a runny nose, then I guess it stands to reason that the floral designer's front porch would be the only one still dark and unadorned and her tables......still strewn with gourds, branches, leaves, and pilgrims.  I hate to see the pilgrims go.  I like the pilgrims, so I'm going to let them linger here a couple of more days before they are banished to the attic for another year.  Today, I did take the pumpkins off the front porch and chunked them into the woods, but that's as far as I've come with my Christmas decorating.

Carson got to go paintballing this weekend with his uncle and cousins.  They shot each other with air propelled, paint filled bullets for 7 hours.  Needless to say, fun was had.  There's no greater way to celebrate the season of thanks than by pelting your loved ones with non-lethal bullets, which leave bruises that can be compared later. 
We got Blair feeling all better and back to school today.  By Wednesday afternoon, she put on a little mascara and I knew that was a sign of improvement.  She lost five pounds from not being able to eat a normal diet, so I made it my mission to put some weight back on her over the weekend.  I have pumped her full of all sorts of carbs and sugars and fats and calories.  To show my support, I may have eaten with her and put on a little, too.  It's what mothers do for their children.     

Tomorrow starts the busiest week of the whole, entire year for me!  My posts may be spotty, at best, but I'll swing by when I can!  By the end of next weekend, my schedule should thin out some and I'll be back to regular programming. 
      

   
     



    
     

I'm sitting here on the eve of Thanksgiving, thinking about all the blessings in this life.  Sometimes, blessings are big and obvious and hard to overlook and, other times, they're so quiet and subtle that we may glance right over them if we're not careful.  God's gifts can come in the form of people, places, or things.  They can be spiritual or physical or emotional.  Tangible or unseen.  Eternal or temporarily loaned to us.  Some may happen just once in a lifetime and some are so commonplace that we hardly give them much thought.  Some come as they are and some are dressed in disguises.  Some aren't appreciated until they're gone.  Some aren't given much consideration until we see someone who's struggling without it.         

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for second chances, porch swings, broken in blue jeans, and hot donuts with milk.  I'm thankful for nights when I can stay up late, Chacos, Peanuts holiday specials, and the way you feel on your birthday.  I'm thankful for potatoes, caramel cake, making up after an argument, and photographs of people who are gone now.  I'm thankful for beautiful sunsets....the ones where God uses a whole bunch of His colors to paint the sky.  I'm thankful for bonfires, dinner with friends, family gatherings, and nights when we have nowhere to go.  I'm thankful for hymns with outdated words like thee and thou, because you can't really improve on those.  I'm thankful for jacket weather and cruise control and children's choirs.  Football games.  Sunday afternoon naps.  Hot chocolate.  I'm thankful for mountains and oceans and waterfalls and wildflowers and the other millions of things that God made beautiful just for us.  I'm thankful for the feeling you get from looking at your work at the end of the day.  I'm thankful for rainy days, flannel sheets, men who offer their seats, and a God who is slow to anger and full of mercy.  I need that.      

I'm thankful for family vacations, barbeque chicken, tulips, and Christmas lights.  I'm thankful when my children are happy, for my church and the sweet faces there, a hardworking husband, and chips and dips.  I'm thankful that my son still kisses me goodnight and for the bond that mothers and sons share.  I'm thankful for the cold winds of winter, pipe organs, puppies, and sweet notes that someone took the time to write.  I'm thankful for being an aunt, thin crust pizza, and the Bible.  I'm thankful for knowing that my children are saved.  I'm thankful that my daughter still wants to share news with me and that we enjoy each other's company.  I'm thankful that God doesn't give up on us.  I'm thankful that I have people in my life who love to laugh with me and for the times I have a thought or idea that I know God put in my head.  I'm thankful that our kitchen is full of food.  For doctors and medicine. My sweet in-laws.  I'm thankful for the first night sleeping in fresh sheets.  Cousins. Stories from history.  A faithful, furry companion who meets me at the door with uncontrollable love every day.  I'm thankful for my brothers and the things I learned from growing up between two sweaty, perpetual eaters.  I'm thankful for the men they grew up to be and their families.        
      
I’m thankful for the first sign of fall, fresh cut grass, the sound of bobwhites, salsa, the smell of charcoal, and golden leaves against azure skies.  I'm thankful for rolling over and going back to sleep on Saturday mornings.  I’m thankful when I dream about my Daddy and can see him for just a minute.  Even if it's just inside my head, I’ll take that, any day, until I can see him again.  I’m thankful for home movies that I can watch and still hear him laugh and see my children little....like they will never be again.  I’m thankful for boiled peanuts, weeping willow trees, and a Savior, who can sympathize with our infirmities and has not left us comfortless.  I'm thankful for all the teachers, who've loved on me through the years......kids never, ever forget that.  I'm thankful for the teachers, who've loved on my kids over the years......Mamas never, ever forget that.  I'm thankful that my weaknesses are my husband's strengths and for rocking chairs, the sound of tree frogs, and for friends who would come, right away, if I needed them.  I'm thankful that, even though He didn't have to, Jesus died for me and for the hope that gives when days are dark.  I’m thankful for the neighborhood I grew up in with kids in every house, Old Maid cards flapping in spokes, Kool-Aid frozen into Tupperware popsicles, and a ballgame always going on in someone's yard.  I’m thankful for church bells, the feeling of giving, and old music that takes me back in time.  I'm thankful for my grandparents and the memories of holidays I spent with them.  I'm thankful for smells that bring back memories.             


“Think of the great things He has done for you.”

Happy Thanksgiving! 
            

Well, we've had a long day. 

Blair had a little surgery this morning.  We were supposed to be at the hospital around 7:00-ish and the hospital is 90 minutes away, so, if you do the math.......well, let me just answer that for you and save you the trouble.....we had to leave way, way, way too early.  It's a good thing we got there when we did though, because they took her back immediately.......4 1/2 hours later.  Everything went well and now she's all doped up, sleeping soundly, and sentenced to a liquid Thanksgiving diet and limited talking for a few days.  Bless her.

Since that's all I've done today, I'll have to write about observations made at the hospital....a riveting subject for all of us, I'm sure, but it's all I've got today.   

1)  Hospitals run on their own time.  When you're there, you go by their watch.......and it runs slow.  Very, very slow.  Don't ever bother asking about how much longer it will be.  They don't know.   You're there until they say you can go, so you should just settle in.  I tried to help Blair pass the time and dispel any anxiety, so I appointed myself as her mood lightener, while we waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and
           waited.................................................and waited.....................................and waited........ 






  

2)  People lose all awareness of their surroundings when they're on their cell phones in a crowded room.  We heard all sorts of information being relayed in some seemingly oblivious, loud voices.  "Well, the doctor said the gallstones were huge, so she should feel a lot better.  She'll be sore for a few days, but he said she can do whatever she feels like doing", which really translates into "Tell everybody that Thanksgiving is back on now and to come on over Thursday, because she'll be up and cooking dinner for all 40 of us by then".  Then there was......."Aunt Betty, the doctor just came in and said that Bill's hernia was pretty bad, but they think they've got it patched up and he'll need to take it easy for a week or two", which translates into....Bill will be in the recliner until Valentine's Day, moaning every time he has to get up to get the remote.  I was praying there were no cases of a private nature in the room.  If there had been, we would've gotten all the details we wanted and so much more.       

3)  People have different ways of coping with stressful situations.....e.g. waiting for a loved one in a surgical waiting room.  Some laugh and joke.  Some talk loudly about their truck's suspension system.  Some play Sudoku.  Some pace while rattling their pocket change.  Some eat Cheez-Its and a large Coke.  And Davis.....he's a talker when he's nervous.  Talk. Talk. Talk. Talk. Talk.   I don't think he's talked that much since we got married....except when he had his nose surgery last spring and he talked like a parrot on speed.  Well, I get quiet when I'm stressed.  I just wanted there to be silence and so I was just about ready to either put him through the receptionist's plate glass window or ask the nurse if she had a pill cup full of "quiet medicine" that she could spare.    

4)  There, we all sat in a big room....each with our white bag titled "Patient's Belongings" stuffed with the shoes and clothes of those we love.  You know the ones with the "Name" and "Room No." blanks on the side.  Hospitals don't like clothing  They snatch them from you just as soon as you enter the doors.  "I'll take that and that.....oh, and that and don't think you're gonna get to keep that either."  I saw a couple of people, who could have really benefited from a little tighter pull on those shoestring bows on the backs of their gowns today.  The hospital is a miserable place for the modest.       

5)  It takes very special people to work in a hospital.  Having to maintain a comforting smile and a certain level of sympathy....all while dishing out a healthy dose of "there, there"......and not vomiting when other people vomit.....oh, and the relentless inclination to ask people if they're allergic to anything. all. day. long.  They're very admirable people, who can do that each and every day.  And those early morning hours they have to work!  It's just not for me on so many levels.......and all of you, my would-be patients, should be so grateful that I realized my shortcomings and chose a different path. 

6)  Then, they had this screen in this hospital's waiting area, where you found your loved one's case number and it gave constant updates on where they were in the whole process......holding area, surgery in progress, recovery, etc.  Everyone sat there, holding their little, green slips with their numbers on them......looking at the screen and charting the location and progression of their "number".  While it was a very efficient and informative system, it was a little too similar to tracking my Christmas packages from Amazon and Overstock.com.  I could check where my riding boots and my daughter were from right there in my chair.

7)  Doctors talk fast.  And they use big words that they didn't teach over in your buildings at college.  Mix fast talking and words that are zooming over your head faster than the Blue Angels and you're forced to stop them and ask questions.  I find it's best to repeat back to them what you thought you heard them say and let them correct you if your interpretation is off.  Sometimes, I just want to say, "Look, that all sounds legit, but I need you to talk to me like I'm 4."                  

I'll cut this off here to 1) not bore you to death and 2) get myself on into bed, because waking up at 4:30 a.m. Central Time translates to half past the edge of doom in the Night Owl Time Zone.  I've literally been a zombie, who's been staring straight ahead all day. 

For the next week, I'll be making a lot of milkshakes and iced coffees and smoothies for the patient......and watching a nauseating number of those Hallmark Christmas movies that she loves.......and dispensing drugs and kisses and..........spending time with my girl.   

Thankful for good results today.

Happy Tuesday!!   

                            

I got to look at our Christmas card proofs yesterday. 

We had our family Christmas picture made last Sunday after church.  We have an awesome photographer, who is also a kind, kind friend, and he does a great job of making some of us look way better than we actually do in real life.  We usually just have the kids on our cards, so that our out of town friends can see how they've grown and changed.  Davis and I have grown and changed over the years, too, but in ways that aren't quite as picturesque and shouldn't be held onto anyone's refrigerator with a magnet.  Every ten years or so, we do break down and throw ourselves in the card to assure everyone that we're not dead.  This was that year.   

Oh, the family picture.  What a wonderful experience they always are.  For the mother, this can be a stressful event.  It's her responsibility to see to it that the picture is a success.  This clearly falls in the mother's column in that big lopsided chart of family responsibilities.  Haircuts, dry cleaning pickup, secure appointment time.  She must oversee and verify that everyone is groomed,wrinkle free, on time, and somewhat coordinated. 

Let me stop here and discuss the aforementioned lopsided family responsibilities list.  I'd like to talk to whoever decided.....Ok, here's how we're going to divide things up.....the mothers will bear the children, potty train them, document their lives with pictures, take them to the doctor, attend school meetings, wash the clothes, wipe the behinds, iron, remember birthdays, grocery shop, pack lunches, schedule appointments, clean up the vomit, buy the gifts, clean out the closets, fill out the baby books, cook, clean the toilets, run the carpool, maintain the master family calendar, plan the parties, decorate for holidays, address the Christmas cards, take the cupcakes to school, vacuum, organize the family gatherings, and oversee the Christmas picture.....if the fathers will just plunge the toilets, operate the jumper cables, bury the pets, shoot the intruders, and get the Christmas decorations down from the attic?  But I digress.  

Anyway, sons and daughters.....well, they're on both ends of the spectrum when it comes to pictures.  Girls usually love the idea of having their picture made and are meticulous about every preparatory detail.....especially the hair and makeup.  Just before our appointment time, it started raining.  Not just rain, but rain of Biblical proportions......like the kind that causes animals to start pairing off and looking for a man with a long, white beard and a staff.  Anyway, sure enough, the humidity was being accused for Blair's hair "not doing right" as she grunted from in front of the bathroom mirror and, if you have girls, you know that nothing will cause a family to run late like a daughter's hair that isn't doing right.   

Meanwhile, sons aren't nearly as excited about picture day and have to be reminded to do the most basic hygienic tasks like bathing, tucking in their shirt, and wet combing that hair that's sticking up in the back.  As I recall, Carson let out a big, "Uuuuuuuuuugghh", while slowly walking to the car as if he'd prefer to go have several molars pulled if given the choice.  I mean, after all, he didn't want to hear about Blair's hair problems.....he had to brush his teeth.

Despite the setbacks, we made it to our appointment and everything went well.....with a couple of brief exceptions when one of the kids was asked to touch the other one on the shoulder or back.  You know how you have to do when you're having portraits done....touch each other in order to look connected and loving......like a family.  Yeah, I know they're 14 and 20, but touching your sister is still not something you want to do if it can be helped.  Ever.   

Here are some of the ones that we didn't choose as the card picture......well, for obvious reasons.  Carson's feelings about Blair's impromptu stunt to portray us as her lowly subjects are plainly spelled out across his face.

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