Who in their right mind...

We periodically receive a bag or five of clothes from a friend of a neighbor. Although I am very thankful for them (a third of Finley and Joe's wardrobe is made of up these clothes, I think), most of these items I would never dress my children with. And every once in a while, there is a real doozy. (See photo on left.)

The disturbing part, however, is that this particular item has been in my possession before.

I received these bibs the first time when Finley was born. Needless to say, she never wore them. About a year ago, I donated several boxes of clothes to the Salvation Army, these bibs included. Inspite of my desire to trash them, I figured there might be some one out there crazy enough to buy them for her child. After all, they are in great condition... ie. never worn.

But when I saw these incredibly unique bibs emerge from a bag in my living room once again, a holy terror arose in me. Either I will be plagued by these bibs reappearing time and again for the rest of my life (scary), or there are more of these in existence (even more scary).

So what do I do? Give them away again and live with the fear of them coming back to haunt me? Put them in a box and shove them into the dark recesses of the basement? Incorporate them into an ugly-on-purpose quilt? Use them as my own personal white elephant baby gift?

Stay tuned to see what I decide.

New Roof

Last week we had some excitement at our house... Our roof was reshingled.

After seeing the new shingle color in action, we are thinking we might need to change some other colors as well. I did repaint the shutters last summer, but nobody seems to like it, and we also want to repaint the porch slab (the intense brick red). If anyone has any suggestions, I would love to hear your comments!

Before:

After:

Genes and Whatnot

I have always been smaller than most everybody I have known. I can think of one exception. I stand an inch or two taller than A.M. But only if she isn't wearing those stack-heeled shoes. I got my physique from my grandmother, and a lot of my face, too. I'm just thankful I didn't quite get her nose.

Apart from genetic makeup, we may have shared some other traits. She enjoyed gardening and had a talent for crafting things.

But that may have been the extent of the similarities.

We had a special relationship there for a while. I would write her letters about my cat, and she would write back about the stray cat she fed. But she was a little too excited to have a granddaughter after having two grandson, and herself only raising one son.

My mother tells me she was very classy. Loved to dress up, and I imagine she was a flapper. So she tried to dress me up. I regularly got girlie outfits for birthdays and Christmas. And she sent me dolls. Being quite young at the time, I think those things were easily overlooked and forgotten. But then it happened.

One day she was visiting from Montana, and my parents must have stepped out to run an errand, leaving Gramma to watch us kids for a while. My friend was over, and we had gotten these small,red, vinyl mattresses out to play with. There were two things we used them for: 1. to run into each other at full speed. 2. to slide down the stairs on them. We were using them for stair sleds this time, and when Gramma found out what we were doing, "STOP THAT. You'll get HURT!" Or something along those lines.

What in the world? I thought this was the lady I heard used to ride on the back of Grampa Joe's motorcycle... Anyway, I don't remember if I blatantly ignored her, or if we stopped our fun, but I do know that is when I realized she didn't understand me at all.

I know my kids are getting the best of me when...

1. Laundry was done on Monday, and Wednesday, there are 8 pairs of Finley's undies to wash.

2. Joe made it up a flight of stairs without me noticing. (Don't tell Chris.)

3. Finley has eaten PB&J 5 out ot 7 lunches this past week.

4. Wiping Finley's bum in a public restroom, Joe nearly manages to stick his hand in the toilet water.

5. Finley gets ice cream because she has eaten 4 slices of carrot and 2 little broccoli 'trees' for supper.

6. You catch the kids conspiring who will refuse to nap at certain times so that Mama doesn't get a break. (Not really, but sure feels that way.)

7. Ten months old, and Joe can still cry loud and long enough to get each parent out of bed at least once every night.

Pro Sitters

I am incredibly privileged to have my brother and sister-in-law around.
They baby sit for free, and come up with the best things to entertain the kids. Click here for proof.

Monday Morning Outing

This morning, the kids and I went out to buy some coffee and a shower curtain.

We were having a typical outing. Joe was getting a little fussy, and I was trying to keep Finley from making him fussier. We had browsed through most of Kmart, checked the clearance rack, and were waiting in the only line open to check out.

The man in front of me was at the register, and had given the cashier a card to pay with. The cashier handed it back, saying he couldn't accept a card that wasn't his.
'This is my wife's card. It's my bank account. My money. Call the manager. I'll just have to hold the line up,' he says.
I can tolerate a jerk. Being a veteran cashier myself, I was just feeling sorry for this one and was prepared to wait patiently for the matter to be resolved. Until...

The man kept complaining, and in doing so, used some foul words.
Instantly, the mama bear inside me rose up.
'Don't talk like that in front of my kids,' I said.

I suppose I could have said it more politely, but I really don't think it would have made much difference. He now turned toward me and using more expletives, started in about his right to free speech. (I love how ignorant people have no idea what the Bill of Rights is really about.) I then told him he should know better than to try to use someone else's card anyway, which provoked him even further, and I don't remember much of what he said after that. (Though I do remember him calling me a crack head.) My adrenaline was rushing by this point, and I was trying to think of a way to provoke him far enough to give me an excuse to call the police and get his arse thrown in jail.

That's when another store associated came and asked the rest of us waiting to check at the customer service desk. I have to admit, I was disappointed.

Everyone chattered about what a shame it was for people to act like he was acting, I bought my shower curtains, and we left the store. Minutes later, as I was buckling the kids in, the man left the store, purchase in hand. More disappointment. I couldn't believe they let him get away with using his wife's card. She probably worked hard all day for her money (he apparently didn't), and had a separate checking account. And guess what he bought: a gun.

As I drove home, the anger was getting the best of me, and I had a Dr. Phil moment. I should feel sorry for the guy. He probably got beat up by a little girl as kid. Or maybe his privates are extraordinarily small, and he feels the need to bully others to compensate for that. Who knows. But I don't feel sorry for him. (I know, the Lord is just going to have to work with me on that one.) But I do feel sorry for the poor woman that married him.

Joe Deere

There's nothing like finding cool clothes on the clearance rack.

Snow

So it finally snowed here in Tennessee last night, and the schools were shut down. (I know, it's crazy isn't it?)

Finley got to run around outside for a minute in spite of her cough. (How could I let her miss out on possibly the only chance she'll get to experience snow this year?)

Reanna took the opportunity to sled down the hill in the church yard. It's not so steep, but just her speed.

(She not very used to the sledding thing, you know.)