That's Amore!

It's Friday night. My husband is gone, scouting basketball teams and Hillary is off with the boyfriend. So I pry Parker off the TV and we make homemade pizzas together. As I chop, spread, and sprinkle, he talks about video games and basketball and how he either wants to be a teacher or a photographer when he grows up, but he doesn't want to photograph moving things, just things like landscapes and sunsets. And I'm so glad he's here.

And then, my honey calls, just to ask if I've looked outside tonight because the moon is really pretty and he knows I like a pretty moon.

And I know why my son is so caring...patient...fun to be with...easy to hug. He gets it from his dad.

"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie....that's amore!"

BTW Here's the recipe to our favorite family pizza:

Spread store-bought alfredo sauce on a ready made pizza crust. Layer a few fresh spinach leaves, some chopped, cooked chicken, thinly sliced tomatos, and shredded italian cheese. (I like to add some chopped garlic and a few pineapple tidbits...maybe a little cilantro. Of course, if you're a 13-year-old boy you can just pile on the meat and be happy). Bake at 400 til the crust is browned and the cheese is melted.

The Perfect Tree(s)

When our kids were young, we used to make getting the Christmas tree a fun family outing. Then we discovered that Parker was allergic to evergreen trees, so we switched to artificial. Last year, the tree we've been using for several years broke. I'm sure it had nothing to do with Parker and his friend taking it down for me. I know they were very careful with it and were not in a hurry to get it done so they could have more room to bat a volleyball around the family room. Anyway, this year we needed to buy a new tree.

Hubby decided he liked skinny trees with lots of space between the branches. We already have a traditional tree with white lights and framed pics of the kids in the snow standing in front of the big window in the living room. So he thought we could get more creative with the downstairs family room tree, which always holds the special ornaments made or picked out by the kids. And the search was on.

You would think Lowes, Home Depot, Hobby Lobby, or Target would have what we were looking for. But no...the 27 trees in their stores differed from each other only in height and price and color of lights.

So we went online.

Trees N Trends and various other specialty tree sellers also disappointed. But we finally found something that looked promising at Michael's. The closest store was 50 miles away, but we were undaunted. We left the kids at home and took off Sunday afternoon, only to find that the store was out of that particular tree. And then, driving past a card store, we saw it...the PERFECT tree! But it was the display that they were showing their ornaments on. I asked nicely, but the lady wouldn't sell it to me.

So we had to make do. Hubby decided we'd go back to Lowes and get a 6 foot tree, a 4 foot tree, and a 2 foot tree and make an interesting grouping by our fireplace. When we saw the 2 foot tree, he realized it wouldn't even hold one of our family ornaments, so we just went with the 6 ft and 4 ft.

When we got home, the kids got to work. It's always their job to decorate the tree while I sit and supervise. They each picked a tree, fussed over which ornaments to hang where, and fought over who got to put the most important piece on (Dad's high school alma mater Bulldog ornament.) And they threw in a little dancing just for fun. It was very entertaining. You should see the video.

So now we are surrounded by trees inside and out. Come on, Christmas! We're ready for you now!

Favorite Things

I'm thankful for beautiful food...

And fruitful gardens.

And a daughter who's interested in memories...from generation....

my wedding dress circa 1993

to generation.

mimi's wedding dress circa 1973.

And a son who is helpful...

and musical...providing accompaniament to our holiday singing.

And free tickets to CATS...and time spent with friends.

And rest.

Why I love First-Graders

We all know that kids can be cruel. But some ages seem crueler than others. Junior high comes to mind. When I worked with 3 year olds, the harshest thing they could ever think of to say was, "You're not coming to my BIRTHDAY!" And while my first-graders can sometimes call each other names, or refuse to play with someone for a whole recess, they are generally pretty open and loving.
This morning, Annie came in late. She had been absent yesterday, and one side of her face was swollen and pink. Her cheek bulged and her eye squinted. Mom pulled me aside and said she had suffered from an abscessed tooth and was better today, but Mom was worried that the other kids would make fun of the way she looked. I told her I'd take care of it. Far from being mean, however, most of the kids showed great concern for her and joy that she was back. Then one boy said, "Oh my gosh...what is that -" I opened my mouth to cut him off before he could say 'on your face' when he finished "around your neck!?!"
What?
"Oh, that's my lip gloss." Annie happily replied, taking the lid off of it to show him the fat pink cylinder.
"Wow!" was all he could say.
Only a first grader could be wowed by a lipstick necklace when it was being worn by a girl with half a face.
Then, this afternoon, I was waiting in the car pick-up line with a couple of boys when a little kindergarten girl came tooling down the sidewalk in her motorized wheel-chair. She was laughing because her mom couldn't keep up with her. She whizzed past us, slowed down, and turned onto the wheelchair ramp. She confidently maneuvered to the unfolded ramp of the van and buzzed up into place. Her mom folded the ramp up and shoved it inside, then slammed the door.
And one first-grader said to the other, "Awesome!"
At what other age could we respond with awe and wonder rather than fear or pity?
So, that's that...I'm never leaving first grade!

Sweetie

Last weekend I went to a cookie exchange. It was a total "woman" thing, but I did get some help from my sweet husband. While I was slaving over the hot oven, I was wondering aloud how I was going to get these 24 cookies to the church without having to worry about my container. He offered to make me a disposable tray out of some cardboard covered with foil. Sounded great to me. I baked and he went to work.
He cut a large square...sliced the corners at an angle...folded them up to make sides...covered the sides with black electrical tape...covered the whole thing with foil, more tape, and more foil...and voila! He set it on the counter, and that's when I realized how BIG it was.
Not that I should be surprised. My husband is a big man who does things in a big way. When our old microwave went out, he bought the biggest, most powerful one they had in the store to replace it. The salesman assured me I could cook a turkey in it. I'm not sure why I'd want to...but I can. And when the dogs chewed up our latest FedEx delivery, my MAN built a box for the delivery man to leave future packages in, and set it right by the front door. This handy box is roomy enough for the FedEx man himself to get in. Maybe he could jump out with our package in his hands...like a lady jumping out of a cake. I'm sure I'll be thankful if we ever have a couch delivered and we aren't home to bring it in.
Anyway, when I asked him why the hand-crafted tray was so large, he replied that he didn't like for his cookies to be stacked and he's sure other people feel the same way. So I lay my cookies in the box...single layered...and with room to jostle without touching each other...and headed to my event.
As I wrestled my box of goodies into the building, my friends exclaimed, "My! How many did you make? I thought we were only supposed to bring 2 dozen."
I explained.
I sat the tray on the table among the dainty china and sophisticated silver and went into the other room with everyone else to enjoy some singing. When we came back in to share the cookies, I noticed that my cookies had been placed on a plate and my big box was no where to be seen. Probably some other jealous lady had swiped it.
But that's okay. Not everyone has a sweet husband at home. So I'll gladly share. The box. Not the husband. That big sugar daddy is all mine!

Gettin Squirrely

This is deer season, and the mighty hunters take to the woods (aka Parker and Papaw). They are dressed warmly...camoflauged and orange-vested. They are armed with two kinds of guns, various liscense and tags, and plenty of snacks.

They sit in the woods for hours...and they see NO deer.

But a great hunter will not be deterred. There were squirrels aplenty. And Parker shot a few of them...making his first official kill and so reaching the True Hunter Rite of Passage.

But that wasn't the end of the fun. Later we all took a walk. When we passed a persimmon tree, Papaw stopped to introduce the grandkids to the taste of the ripe fruit...and cut the seed open to find a "spoon" meaning that we will have a hard winter with enough snow to need a shovel.

All in all - it was a great weekend!
Unless you happened to be a squirrel!

Life Song

Why do we expect our kids to be just like we are?
Thank God they're not!
Recently, I was scheduled to sing the solo at church. I tried not to think about it til Saturday night. When I finally got around to choosing a song, it was one that sounds better with harmony. So I asked Hillary if she'd mind singing with me. Her face lit up...and with not a second of hesitation she said, "Sure! What's the song?" There was no sense of duty or obligation. There was only pure joy at being asked, and open-hearted pleasure at the chance to share her talent.
I've been singing in front of people since I was two. I can't remember not performing. I took it for granted and assumed everyone could sing. I was often asked to do it, and sang for weddings, funerals, revival services, and even a local TV telethon once. But as I got older, the fear got stronger. What if I mess up? Forget the words? Miss a note? Show the world that I'm not as good as they think I am? So I masked my fear with confidence and tried to convince myself it was real.
Then came a time in my life where I became unworthy for the church platform. My sin was evident for all to see. And I suddenly had an excuse to refuse requests to sing. For years I sat back, only using my talent occasionally, when someone pressed and begged and made me feel guilty enough that I couldn't refuse.
And finally...through many tears, prayers, sermons, messages in tongues, and sessions with a wise Christian counselor...God and I came to a solution. We made a deal. I didn't have to be worthy. I only had to be willing. And if I was willing, he would do the rest. I wasn't singing for me. I wasn't singing for others. I was singing for him.
So now, when I'm asked, I try always to say yes. But it doesn't come easy. And that's okay...for it keeps me dependent on Him instead of me.
And I'm sure there will be something in Hillary's life that makes her hold onto God with both hands. But for now, she shares her multiple talents with joy...and an unscarred heart. She sings and dances and writes and draws and takes pictures...and loves it! Her exuberance overflows onto those of us around her.
And it heals me.