Top 5 Reasons to Interrupt Your Mother in the Shower

I've noticed this week, that kids have naked radar.  They don't need you until you are changing your clothes or showering.  Mine will ignore me all morning and drag around getting ready at a snail's pace, but as soon as I take my 10 minutes to shower before I drive them to school, they are on me like stink on a skunk. 

This is a problem because it has been pretty cold lately, and as soon as I get my tiny, avacado green one person shower all sealed up and warm, someone comes into the bathroom and says, "mwah, mwah, mwah."  I can't hear inside the shower, so they just sound like Charlie Brown's teacher, and I have to open the curtain to get their urgent message. 

Here's the top 5 urgent messages I have recieved in the past month:

5.  Can I wear this? (usually not, but at least they dress themselves)

4.  Where's the brush? (I don't know, you're the one who has hair, not me)

3.  Will you fix my hair? with brush and hair band outstretched (sure, climb in.  seriously, you must know that I can't fix your hair while I'm in the shower)

2.  Will you sign my paper?  with pen and paper outstretched.  (see above note - and, might I add, I don't sign papers when I'm naked, this is just wierd.)

And, the number one desperate situation that prompted my children to interrupt my nice, warm shower is....

1.  The cream cheese is moldy. (no comment)

Okay, Moms, now it's your turn.  Do your kids have "naked radar" and bug you in the shower?  Post a comment with your hilarious shower interruptions.

Coffee with Kat

As noted in the title of my blog, I have to try really hard to make my family's everyday life fun.  Usually, I have the do it on purpose.  I calculate my workday, the kids drop-off times, pick-up times, and basically every single move we all make down to the nanosecond in order to accomplish everything that needs to be done each day.  So, having fun doesn't necessarily come easy for me.

My attempts to maximize every second of the day are foiled by one tiny glitch in the technical plan that is our life.  Each Tuesday and Thursday, Katherine attends Mother's Day Out.  I drop the big girls off at about 7:40, then drive to Katherine's school and have to sit and wait for the doors to open until 8:15am.  In my book, this is a colossal waste of time that could ruin my entire schedule for the turning of the world, affect the tides, interrupt the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, or even make the world tilt ever so slightly wrong on it's axis.  There is no such thing as acceptable time wastage in my world. 

Enter the idea that I MUST make my life fun - even it it's on purpose.  I do realize that my 4 year old will only spend the majority of her time with me for this one, last year.  I love listening to her talk like Yoda - "Beautiful, I will be".  Yes, she does this all the time.  I don't know if it's a sign of intelligence, weirdness, or some side-effect of being with me too much, but it's really stinking cute.  I love high-fiving her 95 times a day and laughing at her attempts to be angry with me when she doesn't get her way.  I love taking her with me to the office and watching her sweet-talk candy and prizes out of all my co-workers. 

So, I have succeeded in turning the colossal time wastage twice a week into the best coffee with Mom time you could ever imagine.  I pack coffee for me and coffee milk and some breakfast for Katherine, and we sit in the van outside the school and visit.  We drink our coffee and talk about whatever she comes up with that day. Or, I take my make-up along to save even more time my beautifying myself in the rear view mirror while Katherine puts sparkle shadow on her eyes.  Mainly, I just sit and spend time with my youngest daughter while I have the chance.  This is a gift that I never knew I would enjoy so much.

Since the Daddy is often home now when he is off duty from the Fire Department, I allow him the opportunity to spend some of this precious time with the little princess, and I'm happy to say that he takes the time to treasure his last, tiny baby-girl moments with Katherine.  She doesn't do a single cute thing that he doesn't comment on how adorable she still is.  He even got a half-asleep "high-five, Daddy" this morning when he covered her with a blanket in our bed after he got up early to leave for work. 

In striving to make our life fun, I rely greatly on my Heavenly Father to teach me how to exercise patience.  This allows my family and myself to experience the true joy that only comes from the Father.


Colossians 1:10-12 (New International Version)

¹⁰And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, ¹¹being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully ¹²giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you^[a] to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.

Wallpaper is Stupid

Wallpaper is stupid.  Most of it is ugly, like the green and red stuff in my bathroom or the flowered junk that was on our utility room walls.  But, I found one really cool wallpaper with red berries to hang in my kitchen.  This wallpaper was not stupid until 4 days ago.  It was super cool, and I was really excited about the stupid wallpaper. 

Then, Monday happened.  We have to go all the way back to the beginning of the downward spiral that ended in screaming and stupid wallpaper.  Five days earlier, I had to stop wearing my contacts for several days before an eye appointment.  I hate glasses just a little bit less than wallpaper, and I only hate them less because I'm pretty much legally blind, and they are necessary.  That bumps them up a tiny notch. 

So, for 4 days, I wore my glasses.  I had no peripheral vision, and every time I thought I saw something beside me, I jerked my head around like our (half-blind) Chihuahua, Sugarbaby, jerks her head trying to catch invisible bugs.  Super cute. 

By the time I had my appointment on Monday, which was Jason's birthday, I was so ready to be done with it and put my contacts back in.  My family was more ready.  I had become so irritated by my sight deprivation, that they were hiding to the back and sides of me because, of course, I couldn't see them there. 

The doctor informs me that the medicine to dilate my eyes would last 24 to 36 hours.  Yea.  That's a long time to squint and wear that goofy plastic sun glass thing in my stupid glasses.  And so begins the problem with the wallpaper.  We were supposed to hang the wallpaper that afternoon, but my eyes were so dilated that I looked like a sad puppy in an anime cartoon.  I had some major coordination issues.

Jason decides that he is going to hang the wallpaper himself.  Cool with me.  He watched the videos online, read the instructions, gathered the stuff, and set to work.  Now, this wallpaper is white with red berries.  Let's list the problems:  the wall showed through the paper because it was not painted first, his pencil marks showed through the paper, and you can not hang wallpaper alone.  It just sticks to itself on the bottom while you try to smooth out the top.  Fast forward a few minutes, and he's cussing.  I finally check out the situation and very sweetly (not) tell him that I'll just do it myself.   I only succeed in doing the same moronic thing he did and waste another strip of paper before I pitch a very grown-up fit complete with choice words.  And, I'm tripping everywhere because my eyes are still dilated. 

We managed to remain ticked off at each other and the wallpaper the rest of the night, crawled into bed frowning at each other, and woke up growling at each other.  So, of course, I made him get up and drive the girls to school.  I didn't want to be alone in my misery. 

While he was gone, I decided that the battle had gone on long enough, and I started to see the humor in the whole mess.  So, I did the mature thing - I wrote him a sorry note and hung it on the garage door.  It read:
I'm sorry I'm being an "jerk"
Will you forgive me and be my friend again
Check Yes or No
PS - you never have to hang wallpaper again

Upon his return from the punishment of having to wake up and drive children, he kindly answered my note with:
No - see back
Which read - But I will be your BFF. Wallpaper sucks!

Funny how stupid wallpaper can make me love him more.  Probably because he's my BFF. 

We'll just have to pay someone to hang the stupid wallpaper.

Helga Strikes Again

My husband is a firefighter.  When he is at work, I have to "man up," and take care of everything myself.  You do not call your husband at the fire station just because the kids are fighting, the dryer stopped working, or because you BROKE the chicken coop and they might all get out.  You only call the fire station if you have a fire.  And, even then, you'd better not call your husband.  You better call 911 and embarrass him via the indirect route so that you have witnesses! 

So, I couldn't call to tell him that I broke the chicken coop today.  How on earth a man can spend so much time perfecting a chicken coop, I will never know.  He has painted that thing, added handles, windows, breezeways, a nifty ramp.  Shoot, I'm a little jealous of those hens. 

Apparently, my Swedish Viking blood has somehow created a miniature Helga within my 5'4" frame.  I fed all the squawking girls, cleaned up their poopy water, chirped at them, told them they were cute, and then went to retrieve their eggs.  The fancy door Jason made to access their nesting boxes is a wing type of door that I have to lift over my head.  Think, yellow sports car from all the 80's movies - minus the hydraulics that keep the thing open -over your head.  Except that this door is probably as heavy as my four year old, and I have to lift it over my head while balancing 8 eggs.  Now, you get the picture. 

So, when it's time to close the door, I have one hand holding eggs and one hand on the door.  My thought, drop the door, it will just close, then I can latch it properly.  I drop the door. It falls off completely.  Now, we have a wall-less chicken coop 10 minutes before dark.  Cute.

I'm so glad that I have enough humor to laugh hysterically at my predicament even before I find a solution.  I did manage to block the birds off from that area with a little coaching and a stack of bricks in the doorway to that section of the coop.  Thanks to the fanciness of the building with all of it's separate areas, the girls can't climb up their ramp to access that space unless they can karate chop a stack of bricks. 

I sure hope he comes in the front door before he checks on the chickens in the morning when he gets off duty......

Lucky Charms Kind of Love

Think about the way a kid eats a box of Lucky Charms.  No, not when you give them a bowl with milk on a week day morning.  Think about a kid with a whole box in their lap on Saturday morning in front of the TV while their parents are sleeping in.  Do they eat any old piece of cereal without discrimination?  Of course not!  They only eat the marshmallows.  That is why you buy a box of Lucky Charms.  Nobody likes the rest of the cereal.  You only buy it for the marshmallows. 

So, what's my point?  Recently, I discovered that my children still love me like they love Lucky Charms.  They love all the good things about me so much, that they don't even acknowledge my faults.  I'm still "The Bestest Mommy in the Whole World", and I always receive immediate forgiveness.  They overlook the boring cereal part of me to pick out all of my marshmallows and enjoy them. 

We can learn a lot about love and forgiveness by returning to that child-like mentality when it comes to our friends and family.  I'm going to stop finding fault, start forgiving quickly, and pick out my family's marshmallows so that I can enjoy them!

 Mark 11:25 (NIV)

²⁵And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins."

Let's get his freak show on the road!

"Let's get this freak show on the road!"  This is a catchphrase my Mom and I have adopted to describe my family when we're on the move.  Now, since I have been through LIFE ministries, I try really hard not to make the confession that my family and their antics are a "freak show."  So, like any good nerd, I googled the word freak for the modern day definition, and wikipedia describes freak in this way:  In contemporary usage, the word "freak" is commonly used to refer to a person with something unusual about their appearance or behavior.  Okay, so maybe I'm still allowed to use the phrase.

I would describe my family as original and unusual.  I'm proud to say that we try to be that way.  If I start to look like an average American who cares what others think about my convictions, we have a problem.  Fortunately, I don't see that happening.  I'm the girl who wants a Star of David tattooed on my forearm because I don't want a statement posted where no one can see it.  I want to shout it and proclaim it!  Lucky for my husband, I see the down side of that idea.  I'll settle for someplace much more respectable. 

My title "Fun on Purpose," was born from a decision I made this year.  Being a practical person (to a fault), I find it very difficult to have fun when I know (A) we should be getting more work done (B) we could have saved money by not having fun (C) the people I'm with are determined to irritate me someway, somehow (usually my kids).  I know this phase of my busy life is fleeting, and my children will be grown and gone before I know it.  So, I have resolved to have fun even if I have to have fun on purpose.  I will have fun when I'm supposed to be having fun, when I don't feel like doing what needs to be done, and any time I have my girls around me to maximize my family's life experience.  It is really hard to love each other and show God's love to others when you are trying so hard not to have fun.  I know, I've done it plenty.  Note: this philosophy does include trips to Walmart and house cleaning.  sigh...  

I started this blog  as an avenue, or release, for all of the thoughts, ideas, concerns, and revelations that pour, and I mean pour, through my head every day.  I can't even count how many things I ponder, discuss with myself, and stew about on a daily basis.  I've grown accustomed to chattering and blabbing with my Mother on a daily basis about everything that crosses my mind.  We used to pass 4 hour car trips without a single moment of silence.  Now, she's in the Middle East, my husband wears headphones 95% of the time, says uh-huh 4% of the time, & wants to talk about paint colors or yard work the other 1%, and my girls talk more than I do.  My outlets are few.  I don't know how many posts I've written in my mind, and every time I post on facebook, it says I've used too many words.  By the time I'm finished editing to fit my comment in the space provided, all the wit is gone, and I'm left with some boring fact update that says we had pizza for dinner or my dog pooped on the rug.  Not so fun.  Every story is better with more words, hand gestures, and funny sounds.  This, I am good at. 

I'm working on the head-phone wearing husband to do some illustrations to enhance my story telling, revelation sharing, and precious memory saving in this blog.  For now, I may have to stick with a cute photo or two.  Or, maybe I'll pull out my mad MS Paint skills like I did for my brother, the Grumpasaurus.  (It's on his FB wall - the kid named Andy with the ever-changing hair colors.) 

I will not dog my family, so if you're related, don't worry.  If I'm going to pick on you, I'll let you know.  I will definitely pick on myself first.  My favorite line from a country song is, "Lord, please help me help my stupid self."  I will always be the first one to laugh at myself.  Otherwise, everyone around me who is laughing would be laughing at me, not with me.  I prefer the "with".  I can't take myself too seriously because I take life too seriously - planning every minute of every day for everyone within my reach.  So, if you like spontaneity, steer clear, I've got a plan.  Always.

I'll think up some brilliantly funny thing to post soon, I promise.  One day, my kids can read the archives of my blog to remember what they were up to and what their Momma thought about it all.