Rock on, Dad. Rock on.

Happy Thursday, one and all!

We are still deep in the throes of Birthday Bonanza Week over here, but I thought I would take a break from all that nonsense to bring you another exciting installment of:

Questions and Their Answers.

Don't pretend you aren't thrilled.

1)  Have you ever been to Mississippi?  If not, how close have you gotten?

No, I am fairly certain I have never been to Mississippi.

How close have I gotten to Mississippi?

I don't know. 

I need a map.

Yet, I am not going to get one.

So, here are the states I have been to, and you can let me know when I was the closest to the grand state of Mississippi.

Florida

Pennsylvania

Delaware

Maryland

Montana

Washington

Idaho

Oregon

California

2)  Have you ever loved another man?
 

Have I ever loved another man?

Well, let's examine this one, shall we?

Here is a picture of me and The Lumberjack on our wedding day:

When we got married, was the Lumberjack a man?

I think he was more of a man-boy.

No.

I did not love another man before the Lumberjack.

I strongly liked some boys.

But no men.

It would have been illegal.

And furthermore, I would have never ever ever called him The Lumberjack back in those days.

No.

I would have called him Mr.-Romantic-Who-Occasionally-Highlights-His-Hair-and-Would-Shop-At-The-Gap-With-Me-and-May-Have-Even-Visited-A-Tanning-Booth-Once-in-Prepartion-for-Prom.

3)  How many kids did you think you would have?

When we were first married and kids seemed far off in our future, we used to talk about having 5 boys.

I am much wiser now and I know what boys are like.

And now I thank God daily that I don't have 5 of them.

Does that sound mean?

I heart my boys.

I just don't think I am a good mom for boys.

Let's examine the facts:

*I dislike dirt

*I dislike guns

*I dislike chaos

*I make rules such as, "No Balls in the House"

*I don't know what to do with little *ahem* units

*I don't know how to properly potty train a boy.

*Boys scare me.

4)  How did you and The Lumberjack meet?

We met in high school during my junior year and his senior year.

We were both dating other people, and neither relationship was going well.

We sat next to each other in accounting class and would discuss our woes.

Right before prom, the guy I was dating broke up with me.

You may ask, "How could anyone ever break up with you, O photogenic one?"

It truly is a mystery.

Any-who, silly boy who broke up with me decided he would still take me to the prom because I had probably already bought a dress (I hadn't) so off we went.

And we sat at the same table as The Lumberjack, aka Mr.-Romantic-Who-Occasionally-Highlights-His-Hair-and-Would-Shop-At-The-Gap-With-Me-and-Even-May-Have-Visited-A-Tanning-Booth-Once-in-Prepartion-for-Prom, and his date, aka the girl he was no longer getting along with.

So there we are.

Me-I am hoping that my date will end up liking me again.

My date- He is wishing he was with someone else

LJ- He is wishing the night was over

LJ's Date-She is wishing the night was over.

We were a fun table.

No one was talking.

Finally, LJ breaks the awkward silence that has hovered over our love-cursed table.

"Hey, Taylor.  On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate this room?"

"Um . . . why?"

"Hey, Taylor.  On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate these salt and pepper shakers?"

I wanted to kill him.

"I don't know."

"Hey, Taylor.  On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate this tablecloth?"

Oh, what a dreadful night that was.

The only person talking to me was this overly tanned guy from my accounting class and all he could think of to talk to me about was rating inanimate objects on a scale of 1-10.

More reasons why that night was dreadful:

1)  The guy I was with did not speak to me the whole night.

2)  I had just had my fourth knee surgery, so I had a stupid knee brace on and I looked pretty lame (no pun intended) when I walked around.

3)  I had just had a really, really, really bad perm.

4)  The lady who gave me a really, really, really bad perm also cut my bangs way, way, way, way too short.

5)  I looked really way stupid.

6)  I didn't have a dress.  So I had to borrow one from my friend who was thinner than I.  It was not flattering.

7)  When my date dropped me off, he spoke to me for the first time.  He said, "Bye.  Thanks for ruining my senior prom."

I really hated that night.

But, lo and behold, LJ and his lady friend broke up, I got over my old beau, and the rest is history.

Fact:  Old boyfriend went on to marry a lovely lady who he is very nice to and they are expecting their 5th child. 

Fact:  There are no hard feelings towards Old boyfriend.

Fact:  If it wasn't for Old boyfriend, I would have never met my Lumberjack.

5)  Are you done having kids?

Hmmm . . .

Let me think.

Yes.

Yes Sir-ee, Bob.

Oh, yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

6)  What is the age difference of your kids?

The girls are 15 months apart.

Then there is a 3 year break.

When Handsome Dude came along, Sweet Pea was 4, Daisy Mae turned 3 the day after he was born.

Then, when Handsome Dude was 15 months old, Little Dude was born.

So we had 4 kids in 5 years.

And no, none of them were planned.

We were shocked and bewildered every time.

And yes, we get asked this a lot:

"Don't you two know how that happens?"

And I have finally came up with the perfect response!

Are you ready for it?

Are you ready for it?

"Yes!  It's so fun!  Have you tried it?"

Oh, dear.

I crossed the line again.

Dear Lord,

Please help this not to be the 1 out of 10 posts my parents read.

Amen.

7)  How do you handle more than one kid?

I don't.

hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!

But, seriously.

It's a madhouse over here.

One of my tricks when the kids are young is to keep a pack and play in the living room as a playpen.

Because when Little Dude was born, Handsome Dude was 15 months old and he was a busy little punk.

I had to keep Handsome Dude alive.

Even though my world was spinning out of control and I had no handle on anything, I felt keeping him alive was the least I could do.

So, when I would be banished to the couch nursing Little Dude, I would sometimes stick Handsome Dude in the pack and play so he could live to see another day.

Again, it was the least I could do.

He wasn't a fan.

Fact:  Handsome Dude used to find my toilet cleaning brush, use his tiny imagination to turn it into a sword, and chase his sister's all around with it.

And there I would be.

On the couch.

Breastfeeding.

I.

Hate.

Breastfeeding.

My girls would cry out, "Help us!  Help us!"

Yes.

I would be tempted to ignore them.

But again, it is my duty as a mother to not only keep Handsome Dude alive, but to also save my girls from being repeatedly hit by a nasty toilet brush.

So, I would run around the house chasing Handsome Dude, while trying to maintain Little Dude's suction.

I.

Hate.

Breastfeeding.

So, for the sake of keeping my girls from getting stabbed with a toilet brush, keeping Handsome Dude alive, and feeding Little Dude without making him nauseous, I would put Handsome Dude in the pack and play.

Having four is definitely busy.

Thankfully, our girls are old enough to be good helpers.

Also, we aren't as worried about things anymore.

We let more things slide.

For example, I guarantee you I would have never allowed my girls to be ruffians and sit on a couch like this:

No.

That would not have been safe.

Actually, I really don't like it still.

But the Lumberjack keeps thwarting all my good parenting plans.

 

And I am tired of fighting The Lumberjack on safety issues.

Besides.

If I try and argue, he's just going to give me a wedgie.

And he has coerced Little Dude into joining his team.

The team of Not Safe.

 

Rock on, Dad!

Rock on!

 

Alright!

I'm off to plan two more birthday parties!

Wish me luck!

Happy Thursday!

 

P.S.-Guess who is having a BimBaby?

6!

Daisy Mae is 6 today!

Goodness!

It's like a Birthday Bonanza over here!

If I have to bake one more cupcake, I fear I will scream . . . and then eat another cupcake.

***

Daisy Mae's verse:

"But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.  He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.  It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.  It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

Jeremiah 17: 7-8

I have been thinking a lot lately about how quickly my children are growing up.

And it scares me.

*Disclaimer:  Please excuse this post.  I am not very good at writing about anything without cracking a joke here and there.  I am trying to share from my heart something that has been on my mind a lot.  I hope it makes sense!

Honestly, I don't really understand why the thought of them getting older scares me.

Fear of change?

Fear of the unknown?

Fear of teenage drama?

Fear of sass?

Fear of junior high?

I don't know.

All I know is that the years are flying by.

It does not seem like all that long ago when I just had these two girls . . .

at home.

Interruption:  I am simply taking pictures of pictures.

Classy, I know.

The days were busy.

Bottles, diapers, diaper blowouts, binkies, naps, books, songs, crying, laughing, spit-up, teething and exhaustion filled my days.

I used to long for my girls to grow up.

Just a little bit more grown up, and surely life would get easier.

I had a dream . . .

 that one day,  my girls would pee on their own.

 . . . that one day, my girls could actually help me shop instead of riot and heckle me from their double stroller.

 . . . that one day, my girls could sit in a chair and eat all by themselves without spilling anything or falling out of said chair.

Fact:  Daisy Mae is still struggling through these issues.

 . . . that one day, my girls would not need help wiping.

 . . . that one day, my girls would not need naps.

 . . . that one day, my car would not be littered with forgotten sippy cups.

The days quickly came and went.

Instead of bottles and spit-up, life became filled with baby dolls, dress-up, and tea parties.

And I found myself longing for my tiny babies again.

Maybe not the spit-up or diaper blowouts parts that come with babies, but the snuggly, smiley and cuddly parts.

Now, my girls are older.

Days are filled with homework, bike-riding, reading, singing, and coloring.

And I am desperately trying to find the pause button.

Because it is all going too fast.

And I find myself forgetting many things.

The way they felt while sitting in my lap.

The feel of their sleepy heads against my chest when we would read a book.

The warmth I would feel when they would sleep on my chest.

The sound of their voices trying to say new words.

The feel of their tiny hands while on a walk.

The quietness of the house when they were napping at the same time.

The cute way they would toddle around.

The wonder and worry while discovering my new role as mother.

 

And now, my Daisy Mae is 6.

She is missing her two front teeth.

She is in kindergarten.

She reads stories to her little brothers.

And she is quickly changing.

Lately, when I start to feel sad about how quickly my kids are growing up, I try to focus on the fact that I have been blessed to love them and know them for every day that God has given me with them.

So, instead of being sad that my baby girl is six, I will praise God for the fact that I have had her in my life for six years.

And hopefully many, many, many, many more.

Yesterday, I did a song tribute for Handsome Dude to the lyrics of his favorite tune.

For Daisy Mae, I will do one to the lyrics of a song that means a lot to me.

Being a mom has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

And it has also taught me the most about myself and grown my faith in God.

***

I stand

Amazed in the Presence

of Jesus the Nazarene.

And wonder how He could love me

A sinner condemned unclean.

 How Marvelous

O, How Wonderful

and my song

Shall ever be.

 How Marvelous!

O!  How Wonderful!

Is my Savior's Love for me.

Happy Birthday to Daisy Mae!

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Matthew 6:  19-21

For more blogs on the Finer Things in life, visit Amy's blog.

3!

My Handsome Dude is 3 today!

I can't believe how fast time flies.

When he was born, the Lumberjack and I picked out a verse for him.

" . . . So be strong, show yourself a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires:  Walk in his ways and keep his decrees and commands."

1 Kings 2: 2b-3a

Dear God,

My Handsome Dude is going to need a lot of guidance on his journey to manhood.

A lot.

Seriously.

He's going to need a lot of help.

and . . .

prayer.

Oh, my Handsome Dude.

Growing up too quickly.

He can be a bit of a turd.

A handful, if you will.

But, he can also be very sweet and kind.

Well, before signing off, I would like to conclude with a song tribute dedicated to my Handsome Dude set to the lyrics of his favorite song.

Please.

Try and contain your excitement.

Let me know if you need me to get you the information so you can download this song for your IPod.

***

One, Two

Buckle my Shoe

Three, Four

Shut the Door.

Five, Six

Pick up Sticks.

Seven, Eight

Lay them Straight.

Nine, Ten

That's the End!

 

Happy Birthday, Handsome Dude!!!

Fact Check, 2010

Just a quick little post I need to do to make some corrections.

It is my duty to bring you nothing but useless, yet factual, information.

1)  In my post yesterday, I mentioned James referring to BBDs as underwear.

Well, my friends, I have a hearing problem.

It is true.

I am nearly deaf in one ear.

Turns out he was saying BVDs, and according to two very reliable sources , BVDs stand for Bradley Voorhees and Day.

And apparently they are, in fact, underwear.

There you go.

You learn something new everyday.

2)  I blabbed to everyone what Jason's nickname was in my post Jas-Bud-Dooter-Tooter.

Remember Jason?

I made the mistake of going to The Lumberjack, Jason's loving older brother,  to find out what Jason's nicknames were.

I already knew of Jas-Bud.

The Lumberjack informed me that Jason's other nickname was Dooter Tooter.

Turns out, Jason's other nickname was actually Putt-Putt.

Interruption:  Let's pause for a moment to admire my mother-in-law's creativity with nicknames for her offspring.

Thank you.

Guess whose nickname was, in fact, Dooter Tooter.

Nice try, Lumberjack.

Or should I say Nice try, Dooter-Tooter.

Nice try.

3)  I have recently won two thingie-ma-bobs in the blogging world.

Whaaat?!

Crazy.

First, I won the sunshine award from Rebecca D.

Go say Hi! to Rebecca!

And secondly, I won a cookie sheet in a giveaway from Jo at Blog-Diggity and CSN Stores.

Go say Hi! to Jo!

4)  And finally, there is one very important picture I would like to close with.

Just for kicks and grins.

 

That there is my super cool pal, Sarah.

Holding a t-shirt honoring wolves.

You can't get much cooler than wolves.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess why I felt the need to snap a picture of this shirt.

Hint:  It has to do with a tv show.

Happy Tuesday!

This is Taylor, signing off.

Not Me! Seattle Edition

Alright, folks.

Don't hate me, but I am going to give this whole "Not Me!" posting thing a try again.

Yes, I realize that in the past all that has resulted from Not Me! posts is me leaving you in utter confusion.

But I will not let that deter me!

I will not lose heart!

I can, nay, I will do this.

And you will like it.

****

Interruption:  This Not Me! post is brought to you by my recent weekend getaway with 25 or so of my fellow children's ministry peeps to the lovely city of Seattle.

*Disclaimer-Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The Car Ride

I did not kindly inform our driver, James, that I was B-O-R-E-D about 72 times.

I did not have to stop and use the restroom about once an hour.

I do not blame my bladder issues on the fact that I have had four children.

And I most certainly do not go into denial every time I realize that yes, I have four children.

Nor do I panic.

4 kids?

What were we not thinking?

Hmmmm . . . .what was I talking about?

Clearly, I do not get easily sidetracked while posting.

No.

My posts are clear and concise.

Back to James.

 I did not take a picture of him while he was driving us safely to our destination.

No.

I would never distract him from his driving duties.

I did not hear this conversation between James and his wife, Marcia, my friend Louise, and myself.

Cast of characters:

Louise

James' wife, Marcia

Me.

Don't be jealous of my mad picture-taking skills.

Maybe someday you will look as good as I when someone takes your picture.

Maybe.

James:  Oh, man!  I forgot to bring my BBD's!

Louise:  Huh?

James:  You know.  BBD's.

Me:  James!  What are you talking about?

James:  Babe.  Help me out.

Marcia:  Well, I don't know, hon.  Do you mean underwear?

Me and Louise:  Oh, dear.

James:  Underwear?

Marcia:  Yes, dear.  Remember when they were called BBDs.

James: Oh, yes.  What do folks call them now?

Marcia:  Well, I guess like boxers, briefs . . . you know.

Me and Louise:  Oh, dear.

James:  No.  Not underwear. You know.  The round things that play the music. 

Me:  Do you mean CD's?

James:  Um . . . yes!  Is that what they are called?  Golly!  I thought they were called BBDs.

Marcia:  No, honey BBDs are underwear. 

Me and Louise:  Huh?

And that concludes our scintillating conversation.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can tell me what in tarnation James and Marcia are speaking of.

Pike Place Market

I did not get super grossed out by all the super gross fish.

And I did not stand in front of the Fish Guys waiting and hoping to catch a really cool picture of a super gross fish flying through the air.

It wasn't working out for me.

Excuse me?

Fish Guys?

Are not you famous for throwing fish in the air?

Get to it.

I most certainly did not hope that Fish-Dude-with-his-hat-on-backwards didn't think that I was a stalker.

Attention Fish-Dude-with-your-hat-on-backwards: 

I was frantically snapping pictures of you hoping that you would do something amazing.

You let me down, Fish-Dude.

You let me down.

You could have had a moment on my blog.

Your 15 minute of fame, if you will.

I could have given you exposure to 10, maybe 20 interested readers.

But, no.

You would not throw a fish.

You have only yourself to blame.

Check out this fish.

That fish is just nasty-wrong.

I did not scream and run in place when Nasty-Wrong fish moved.

Attention anyone who might visit this fish market in Seattle: 

IT IS A TRICK.  THE FISH IS DEAD. 

Some local ruffians thought it would be funny to attach a rope to the Nasty-Wrong Fish and move him when unsuspecting tourists are nearby.

For shame, local ruffians.

For shame.

I did not  go to the original Starbucks and not even order coffee.

Why would I do that?

That would be silly.

And, since I value my time and yours, I am going to conclude with a bunch of random one-liners, sans pictures.

You're Welcome.

I did not eat a lot over the weekend.

I did not have trouble fitting into my pants when I returned.

I did not miss my kids.

I did not worry when the Lumberjack told me over the phone that he was taking said kids on a hike to look for horns.

I did not have to remind myself that he was not talking about musical instruments.

I do not understand my husband.

I did not worry that they would encounter a bear and tragically come to their demise.

I did not feel sad that I did not get to play Catch Phrase.

Nope.

Not even once did I get to play that delightful game.

I did not complain about my owie.

I did not cut my hand again in a different location once I returned home.

I did not miss my Lumberjack.

I did not have a wonderfully fantastic time of food, fun, and fellowship.

And, finally . . .

I most certainly did not hear a worship leader at the conference sing out loudly while teaching us a song:

"Kick the devil in the nu-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah."

The end.

So, tell me . . . . what did you not do this weekend?