Four-Letter Words

Lorelei's been begging us to get back into gymnastics, and so this summer, we finally signed her back up. After the first week back, I noticed that most of the summer staff was made up of giggly, energetic teenagers that seemed very well, for lack of a better word, teenagery, which got me thinking....

Because of course I want to encourage my kids to communicate with me, I said to Lor in the car on the way home, "You know, you can tell me if you ever hear the teenagers at the gym saying bad words or whatever. You wouldn't get in trouble, I want you to know you can always tell me when you see or hear stuff going on..... blah, blah, blah... " My point was that I want her to feel like she can tell me everything, all the stuff she sees and hears without feeling afraid that she's going to get into trouble. Are you with me parents?

So this week is our annual VBS week at church, basically free day camp for the neighborhood. We've had large amounts of kids from the nearby apartments walking over each day. My girls of course are involved, and somehow each year, I'm roped in to teaching one of the teams.

Long story short (TOO LATE), on the way home today, Lorelei said soberly, "Mom, I heard one the teenager boys say a bad word yesterday."

I remained calm, wondering inwardly if Lorelei even knows what bad words actually are and trying to figure out where she's learned them, "Oh really," I replied.

Lorelei nodded, and with a VERY serious look on her face, she said, "You know, the one that starts with a B...."

"Um, don't say it out loud, babe, wait till we stop for gas, and then you can whisper it to me, okay?"

We stopped, Lorelei approached me with a grave expression on her face, "Mom, that one boy, mom, he said.... you know.... 'butt.'"

"OOOOOHHHH, that B word. Well, thank goodness you told me!"

Thank you Lord for another day of childhood innocence. I know these days will be SHORT, but thank you that I still have a few left!

Prayer for Heidi

Some of you TMC people may recall my feisty, one of a kind roommate from college - Heidi Potter. Well, I've asked for prayer for her before as in recent years she's had 2 very challenging pregnancies, and one very high risk premie. The good news is the Lord kindly answered our prayers, and Heidi now has a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and an 8 week old baby that are all very healthy. The bad news is Miss Heidi has been diagnosed with cancer. She had to have her thyroid and her lymphnodes removed on Monday. In 2 weeks she will have radiation and be in the hospital for 3 days. I've spoken with her, and she's in good spirits. She has peace and is not fearful, more than anything, she's thinking like a MOM, and concerned more about the inconveniences this causes than anything else. She had to quit nursing, and well, I don't need to explain to most of you the challenges that already exist when you have 3 very small children... or even if you just have one newborn for that matter!

Pray for Heidi's strength, stamina, and a quick recovery. Pray that they can find meds that help her deal with the consequences of not having a thyroid as quickly as possible. Pray that her husband and local friends come alongside her and help her as much as they can in the days ahead.

As I complained to myself this week about the never-ending messes I clean, I thought of Heidi and was reminded that I should be grateful I have the strength to clean them. When I whined internally about the financial drain of owning an older home and trying to keep up with the wants and needs of 4 children, I remembered that I'm not paying extra medical bills right now. When I got the cell phone pic of her recent giant incision across her neck, with her comment, "Now that's sexy," I smiled and remembered.... to be grateful!

Pixie Girl

Thank you Noelle for either being an extremely independent spirit or perhaps my biggest people pleaser.... Either way, thank you letting me keep your hair short. The other girls fuss and fume and dream of long Ariel-like locks and then they cry and scream when I shampoo and pull combs and brushes through their tangles!

You my dear, have got the face for pixie hair cuts and bobs forever!

Ahh, Nostalgia

So apparently there are some serious marketing geniuses out there in the world that have tapped in to a strategy I call the need for nostalgia. Basically this strategy pinpoints suckers like myself, by capitalizing on all of my positive childhood memories and forcing me to spend money so that I can pass those experiences on to my own four children. First there was the remake of The Karate Kid, starring my former boyfriend (*Remember, I'm an English major, things I write shouldn't always be taken literally), and the beloved Mr. Miagi (formerly of Happy Days fame). In gist, I forced my kids to watch the original, which was fortunately an "edited for TBS" version, but still much more grown up than I had remembered, and then I convinced them all that they were beyond EXCITED to see the remake with Will Smith Jr.... or some name that starts with a J. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I LOVED it way more than they did, but I will admit, there's a lot to be said for the power of suggestion when you've got kids ages 7 and under. Anyway, it was amazing, but I decided Ralph Macchio's image trumped the new poster for my blog.

And then as if summer wasn't off to the perfect kick-off already with me re-living my childhood favoritest movie, I saw the re-release of my formerly-favorite BARBIE doll of all time, Peaches and Cream Barbie, circa '85. I almost bought it, and then realized it wasn't the same price as all the other barbies in the Target aisle I so often linger in, drat, it's a vintage release.... Needless to say, I restrained myself, because I couldn't really justify the purchase, but I wanted to acknowledge that I'm on to the fact that they're on to me.... they being the people that market memories and make money on sentimental moms like me that did in fact actually have really good childhoods thanks to the materialism of the 80's and probably due in part to the fact that Reagan was in office for all my formative years.

But I digress.