Song of Sylvan

Oh Sylvan, my thoughts of you border on manic
If success stemmed from you, I'd be in a panic
No discipline, ADD, and hormonal boys who don't care
By the end of the night, I'm pulling out my hair!

I'd quit if I could, but I'd miss you, I'm sure
For my days void of grown-ups, leaving home seems the cure
My two hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays are dear
For they renew in me knowledge that screaming children are dear

Entrenched in the minefield of emotional teens
I find educations not amounting to beans
So fervently, ardently, teaching the system
I pray for just one who will heed all my wisdom

At the end of my day, I return feeling lonely
Grateful for my family (and cold maccaroni),
My husband and children, blessings beyond measure
Remind me, not the money, but Life is a treasure

*This message brought to you from Sylvan Learning Center...by me, though...not them

Lament to Laundry

The pile reaches heavenward
A mound upon the floor
Nearly pouring out the windows
And flooding out the doors!

My shrine to Clorox, I make no Gain
It's gravity can shift the Tide
'Tis the Era to begin washing
Lest the Downy heap grow e'en more wide

And so laundry e'er commences
Through the grime I'll constantly plow
The loads ne'er ceasing, my load ne'er easing
Send a life preserver quick, lest I drown!

The late-night musings of Shannon's mind

I should begin by warning you: I have had WAY too much coffee to drink tonight. I fear I have frightened all my friends with my immature, silly hyperness, my propensity to dance with cleaning supplies, belt out Christmas carols into my Lysol-canister-microphone, and my junior-high-esque humor. Believe it or not, this is still a vast improvement from several years ago in the HSU dormitories...oh my. How embarrassing! Praise be to God for His grace, often ministered through His people...and many apologies and thank-you's to my friends!

Thankfully, despite my insanity, the Lord has really touched my heart anew with a few lessons. It really started several nights ago, I suppose. The ladies from my church had their annual cookie exchange and the devotional was about Grace. What a timely refresher for me! While I'm sure my expression of these things will be far less eloquent than the way they were shared/taught/presented during the fellowship, I hope maybe you'll be touched too.

"Let us therefore draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and may find help in time of need." (Heb. 4:16) So many times, I am so bogged down with the guilt of my short-comings, my "I-should-have-done ____" list, my fears about the job I'm doing as a Christian/wife/mom/friend, my insecurity about household issues or finances or...you could probably fill in the blank. So many nights I go to bed and lie awake in the dark, fighting tears, praying for forgiveness and direction/strength for the next day, resolving to try harder, work harder, be more patient/submissive/kind/...perfect. But that's really not right. It's not about my works or how hard I try. It's not about accomplishing all my tasks, or even about being submissive to my husband or patient with my kids. It's about living and relying on grace...through faith...and bringing glory to God. "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you." (Matt. 6:33) Grace is His gift, never earned or increased by merit, never taken away by my human stumbling.

So often, I strive to prove myself...to myself, to my family, but most of all to the Godly friends and church members I respect so much. I know, or think I know, how a godly woman in my position should appear. I strive to appear that way, reaching after the things of God, rather than God himself. Of course this is backwards, but in the moment somehow always seems completely logical and right. I'm generally left feeling embarrassed and ridiculous, a total failure in one or more walks of life. I try to copy other "more godly" people's disciplinary tactics, imitate their speech tone or even words to their husbands, adopt their scheduling ideas...I become an imitator of men, rather than an imitator of God. (Eph. 5:1) This is not to say that valuable lessons cannot be gleaned from my brothers and sisters in Christ, but my goal should be to become more Christ-like, NOT more Christian-like.

My motivation? Sometimes it truly is my pursuit of God and desire to be like Christ. Sometimes, I've been seeking His direction and He chooses to speak to me and teach me through people. But sometimes, too many times, my motivation is so I can appear godly...so I can feel godly...so I won't feel so foolish, immature, stupid. My motivation is the emotional response; how fickle! And moreso, when my desired emotional response is not received, I begin to doubt my method, my motives, my walk, and my witness.

"But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith without any doubting, for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man expect that he will receive anything from the Lord, being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways." (James 1:5-8)

Seriously, God? I'm unstable in all my ways? Well, as long as I wind up in this place, Scripture says I am. You know what, though? It's really okay...something I never thought I'd "feel" or say in reference to this whole struggle. So I'm like a frothy, stormy sea? Good thing the God I serve can calm raging seas with a word then! He can calm my heart, my fears, my insecurities, my instabilities just as easily. I don't have to sink; if I keep my eyes on Him Who allows the storms, I can walk through them without harm safely back to the boat. (Matt. 14:28-32) God has blessed me with the hind-sight to see areas where He's grown me. I am getting closer to Him by His Grace; I'm NOT a failure.

"But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me did not prove vain but I labored even more than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God with me." (1 Cor. 15:10)

"And He has said to me, 'My grace sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses,with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Ode to my Swiffer

My floors lay in ruin
Covered with leaves
Muddy footprints, spilled dinner
All are pet peaves

I've vacuumed and dust-mopped,
Lysol-ed till I'm blue
But still the dirt piles
My toil ne'er to be through

And then came a vision
Of clean floors within
The Swiffer gleamed brightly
As if anxious to begin

I rolled up my sleeves
Prepared for my work
But the Swiffer flew swiftly
And mopped up my dirt!

So if ever you're weary
Or scrub on on your knees
Just run o'er to Walmart
Swiffer's all that you need!

*Disclaimer: I am not a poet.

We're TOTALLY due for another ROTIC night...

Can I just tell you how amazing my friends are? Of course I can, seeing as how this is my blog and I suppose I can write about whatever I want! :) I HAVE THE MOST AMAZING FRIENDS!

Without recounting specific events, I'm not sure I can effectively convey what a breakthrough this is. When we first arrived in Wichita Falls, I was so excited for the fresh beginnings and newness ahead. My optimism faded quickly as my family seemed to choke under the strain of difficult (and dangerous) housing environments, troubled finances, loneliness, a sense of hopelessness in our efforts to find a new church home, the typical struggles that come with marriage and parenthood (we had a 4-month-old and a 16-month-old at the time), and just a general air of helplessness and despair. Things only seemed darker after nearly two and a half years of little improvement in these areas.

I don't want to come across as though EVERYTHING was bad during this time frame; it certainly wasn't. We learned and grew so much as we walked through this valley, and it wasn't all shadows. Still, I hope to never learn by such means again.

Then, the Lord reached out, audibly and tangibly, through a great lady my husband met through his cycling. By "chance," they were both riding with the Sheppard team. Through seemingly simple small-talk, she invited Scott (and our family) to visit her church. We had been members of another local body for over 2 years at this point, but we felt the Lord leading us away...we just didn't know where. We decided to visit Messiah Baptist per her invitation, which seemed far more promising than opening the yellow pages to the "churches" section and attending the first place that caught our eye. After our first visit to Messiah, we KNEW it was where the Lord wanted us.

Through this precious church, God has brought such healing...most noticeably to my own heart, but also to Scott's and to our entire family. We were alone, and we needed help.

"Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart." (Eccl. 4:9-12)

God provided "companions" for us in a time when we were stumbling and couldn't lift each other up well enough. HE encouraged us, and continues to encourage us through these dear friends.

By His grace, I have some of the best friends...sisters, really...that I've ever known. They know things about my heart that I've never disclosed to anyone outside my husband--things that still seem so shameful at times, despite the freedom I know Christ has given. And you know what? These godly women like me anyway! They don't condemn, and they DO understand...and they let me walk with them through their issues and victories too. I am so blessed...truly beyond words.

So, sweet ladies, if you're reading this (and I hope you know who you are), thank you soooooo much! I hope you know how much you mean to me and how much I love you.

P.S.--"Shampoop" really happens! Arg.

Plumb Tuckered Out

Do you ever have those days where you feel like you never catch a break? You work the whole day, running around like a crazy person, and when you finally stop just before bed, you look around and can't tell you've accomplished anything? This week has been that way so far. I've lacked motivation and focus, so I've started a zillion things and finished nothing tangible. My laundry is half-washed, the dried portion is partially folded and still sitting in slightly-leaning towers on my couch. The bathrooms are bare, every towel and rug removed for washing (and still lying on the floor of the laundry room), leaving me cold, wet, and very much without a towel after my shower! (Yay for streaking.) The bills are paid, the checkbook is balanced, and all the papers and filing boxes are in *somewhat* organized piles all over our office/4th bedroom...which now resembles the aftermath of a tornado. The dishes are half-washed because the drying rack got full and I got side-tracked before I could dry those dishes by hand. Half of the beds have had their sheets changed while the others have sat unmade (because I was *about* to change their sheets too) for the last two days. It's like running in circles. Perhaps this is what dogs feel like when they're chasing their tails.

At the end of days/weeks like these, I feel simply exhausted! I think it's a combination of the actual physical exertion and the depression resulting from all my failed attempts to accomplish something. If I were to sit still for just a few seconds in this state, I'm sure I'd collapse, sleeping, into a heap.

It could actually happen.

O Christmas Tree...

Putting up Christmas decorations ALWAYS gets me in the mood for winter: hot cocoa, warm clothes and blankets, gray days (preferrably with snow), fires (although we don't have a fireplace...), the glow of Christmas lights in the dark...ahhh. Love it all.

The girls have made their Christmas lists (what they want to get for other people), so we'll be commencing our shopping soon too. My favorite part of today: Emily and Katy were singing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus in their bedroom before we ever had to remind them of the Reason for the season.
A few pictures:

Debt Management

I saw this a while back and just rediscovered it on youtube. It's a good idea to remember this now that we've entered the Christmas (and shopping) season.

The Sun'll Come Ouuuut...Tomorrow!

La la la...

Ok, likely you'll have whiplash from just reading about my swiftly changing moods! Yesterday was rough! Thank you to everyone who left such sweet and encouraging comments...they really were helpful in shifting my perspective.

I went to pick Emily up in the afternoon; Katy, Ian, and I have a routine. We always try to get there about 10 minutes early (shocking, I know...but not nearly as difficult in the afternoon! Haha!) We walk out in the field and look for "perfect" leaves--perfect for Ian to crunch up in his hands, that is. Katy runs all over the place, picking some up for her little brother, crunching most with her pink cowgirl boots. Ian thinks she is a riot! After a few minutes of this game, we go to the front of the school to wait for the big blue buses. We greet the bus drivers and sometimes get to visit with one of Emily's teachers (who usually has "bus duty.") When we see kids coming out, we head back over to the side to wait for Emily, Katy and Ian both waving wildly once they see her. Emily dashes over (backpack thumping on her back with the clanging sound only one of those awesome metal lunchboxes can make), and she gives each of us a big hug. We talk about her day all the way home. Yesterday was no exception.

When we arrived at home, Emily went to her room to unload all her paraphernalia. I got Ian and Katy set up to play safely for a while and headed back to chat with Em. I asked her if she remembered the morning, and she nodded her head yes.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Emily replied that she played with Niya on the playground.

I rephrased, "Do you remember what we talked about in the car this morning?"

She thought for a moment and shook her head no.

I asked if she remembered saying anything to me.

"Yes. I said I wanted to make wise choices."

So, I refreshed her memory about the morning: the backpack, the statement about me "not choosing patience," etc. She seemed to recall. So I told her that sometimes when Mommy gets mad that it's good...because I'm angry about the same things God is, and I show it the way He wants me to. Other times, like that morning, I was angry because I was thinking about myself...and that was wrong. I told her she was right that I was not being patient or very kind, that I was very sorry, and asked her to forgive me.

Her response beyond what I expected. She said she forgave me, ran over to give me a huge bear hug and some kisses, and then she said "I'm sorry, too, Mom. I wasn't kind either, and I wasn't very 'prespectful.' I need to talk better to you and follow directions. 'Listen and Do.' That's one of our school rules too."

So we agreed that I would work hard not to be grumpy in the mornings, and she would try hard to obey and be "prespectful." And then we prayed together, and it was over. We had a great time the rest of the afternoon.

Then last night happened. Emily was up twice, sick. I was going to let her go to school anyway since she wasn't feeling bad and had no fever, but then we revisited breakfast while she was making her bed. Home day it is! Emily is SOOO disappointed. For a while she was trying to convince me that she was better and could go to school. She actually even said, "well, they have a bathroom at school too..." Nice try. I had to explain that putting others first meant we needed to think about what they need...namely NOT being around someone who could make them sick. The clincher was when I explained, very rationally I might add, that something might happen so she couldn't get to a bathroom fast enough, and then she would make her whole classroom stinky!

So today, we're taking it easy: sipping on Sprite, playing some Chutes and Ladders and Connect 4, drawing funny pictures, and preparing for some yummy chicken noodle soup for lunch (maybe, if all goes well with the tummy.) And maybe we'll even watch a good movie.

What is WRONG with me?!

Sin. That's what. I'm uber unproud of myself at the moment, but in an attempt to be totally transparent, I'm posting this anyway. Apparently I really am an angry, impatient person. Funny, I think I had so many people telling me (years back) that I was "so nice" or "so patient" that those things became hidden vessels of pride for me...and later for complacency. I have some serious cleaning to do in my heart.

This morning, like most mornings, I was flustered and over-zealous in my efforts to get everyone up, fed, bathed, dressed, beds made, lunch packed, hair fixed, and out the door "on time," which to me means with at least 15 minutes to spare...you know, in case traffic is bad between here and the school (which is a hearty maybe 3 miles away? I'll clock it this afternoon to check.) How pathetic am I? I'm so neurotic about being late to something that I'm willing to give a minute by minute countdown to my PRE-SCHOOLERS beginning up to 30 minutes in advance! Don't say it. I know. I'm pathetic.

So, I'm getting a fresh diaper on the baby...and a coat and hat because it's cold in the mornings now...and I tell the girls, who are *finally* ready, to "get in the car and wait for me." They do, I rush out, buckle everyone up who needs help, and off we go...no later than we ever are. We pass the hospital on base, which has plumes of steam billowing from *somewhere* and Emily tells me the hospital is on fire because she sees smoke. I explain what it really is and then ignore her protest that she "knows" it really is smoke. After all, why argue? Nevermind the disrespect in her tone of voice...ugh. THEN she says, "I like the fire part in 'Bambi.'" Now, why on earth would she say something like that?!?! I don't know if she was serious and has some sadistic side that needs immediate attention and intervention, or if she was just trying to make a shocking statement in vague reference to the hospital steam conversation. Either way, I'm a little alarmed and at a total loss for how to respond, so I simply say "nice people don't like forest fires." I continue by explaining that they kill trees and animals and make the air all smoky and hard to breathe. Emily says, "well, I like it in 'Bambi.'"

I should've just ignored it (I guess?), but I popped off and said, "well, I don't think that you're very nice then." Seriously, Shannon? She's 5, and it's an animated movie. It's not even a real fire. Maybe she just liked the spooky music or the colors or the adrenaline rush from watching the animals run...she's seen it enough times to know everyone is going to be okay. Good grief. I'm such a "good" mom. (And by "good," I mean sharp, impatient, and mean.) Emily looks down, eyebrows raised (that not-remorseful-but-impossible-to-read expression) and says calmly, "everyone at school will say I'm a bad person."

What?! Arg. I tell her that people aren't going to say that, and that regardless of what they say, all she needs to worry about it what God thinks. "What do you think God thinks about this," I ask.

About this time, we get to the neighborhood where the school resides and Emily exclaims, "*gasp!* Where's my backpack?!"


Yes, in my stupid hustle to get out of the house with 20 minutes to spare, I managed to allow her to forget her backpack (complete with folder, lunch, and water bottle inside) on the living room chair. But of course, it's not my fault. ALL the fault lies with my freshly-five-year-old little girl. Duh. I whip the van around and head home, all the while muttering (audibly to all those precious little ears) about responsibility and obedience. Blah blah blah. Emily finally says, "I think God doesn't like forest fires. He thinks I'm bad too."

Any good mom would look her child in the eye at this point, comforting her, guiding her in the right direction. And then there's me. We had arrived back at the house. I slammed the van into Park, jumped out and ran inside to grab Emily's backpack. After all, by this time, we really were almost late. *rolls eyes*

When I get back in the car, I'm not angry anymore, but I don't know what to say either. So I say nothing. We head back to the gate. I'm just about to hand the guard my ID when Emily says, quietly but directly, "Mom, you don't have patience. You don't choose to have patience." My temper flared, I bristled. Who does she think she is, saying something like that to me?! I'm her MOTHER...OF COURSE I'M PATIENT!!!! I'M ALWAYS PATIENT!!! But I knew she was right. After getting the window rolled back up, I lied "I AM patient. I waited for you, didn't I? I read with you this morning, didn't I? No, YOU did not obey 'quickly, sweetly, and completely.' YOU were not responsible to make wise choices. YOU were disrespectful to me and did not pay attention this morning, and that's why your backpack got left and why we're now running late!" I was accusing.

As we pulled up to the school, Emily spotted one of her teachers and says,"I'm going to tell Ms. Kunkle you think I'm a bad person." I was stunned. I hadn't said that, had I? I told Emily that she shouldn't say that because that would be lying. Then we got out of the car, I walked her to the cafeteria, gave her kiss, she gave me a kiss, and I waved to her, saying pleasantly, "Have a great day, Honey!" Just like all the other moms.

I know I was wrong. I really am sorry. Yet, even on the ride home, I was feeling angry and confused and I just wanted to be alone. No such luck with two other little ones.


I'm blinking back tears as I write this, so ashamed of my behavior and the horrible example I just set for ALL my children! My words, my tone, my countenance, all my non-verbal communication are all things I would detest if I saw them in someone else. I’m a brat! I'm so thankful that I have a God who forgives me for my blatant rebellion, that He removes my sins as far as the east is from the west. But now, how do I reconcile with those precious hearts who look up to me? How I wish I could drive back up to the school, grab Emily and hold her. How I want to tell her I'm sorry for my behavior and that she's right about my patience...or lack thereof. One of my consequences is that I have to wait until 3:30 to do that...and find a way to do it which won’t promote a disrespectful critical nature in her.


All you other moms, if you've read this far, are probably white-faced and horrified, one step from the phone, the number for CPS in hand. I ask for your grace and your prayers...and a shout out if you've ever been here.

Playing in the...snow?

We were so excited as we watched the snow falling on Sunday, hoping it would get cold enough for some accumulation. Well, Scott and I were a little disappointed, but the girls thought it was great! To them, we'd had an all-out blizzard. (How funny will it be if our next base is somewhere like Alaska! Haha...)

Anyway, I took a few pictures of Katy out making Texas snowballs (aka piles of slush). She had a fantastic time until it all melted away. Even Ian picked up on the excitement, squealing happily as he watched her through the window.

Ten months and truckin' along

Ian is ten months old today! I'm glad I decided to take pictures of him each month so I can look back and see how he's changed. Time has a way of blurring so you don't really notice gradual changes, and you forget exactly how things once were. It's hard to remember how our family was whole before Ian was born...and it's impossible to imagine things without him now.

Let's see...in the last month what's new? Well, he finally started crawling. And pulling up. And pushing boxes (or other items appropriate in height and weight) around the living room. And saying "Momma" regularly...for me! And he's mostly off of baby food now, making the most of his two little bottom teeth! He's around 16 pounds now (give or take a little), and still very happy and pleasant nearly all the time. He loves playing by himself, following us around the house, and especially playing hide-and-seek/peek-a-boo with his sisters. (They are so wonderful with him!) Later on, when he has moments or days when he resents having two older sisters (and all the bossy affection they have to offer), I hope he realizes how much they love him! It's amazing to witness the depth of love such little people can exude.

This month's pictures aren't what you might consider "great photography," but I guess that's okay. In the picture where it looks like he's chewing on his bear's face, he's actually giving a very sweet (albeit juicy) kiss. The flash kept making him squint, which skewed his beautiful smile, and finally he got fed up with my efforts to capture the "perfect" pose and started fussing a little. I guess those moments are good to have on film too, eh? Anyhow, here's our little man; just two more months until his first birthday! (*sniffle*)

An Amazing Event

Scott and I got to go out on a DATE!!! Honestly, I can't remember the last time we went somewhere for any length of time without at least one child, so obviously this was way overdue. Michael and Brenda were our gracious babysitters (who fed the kids AND had them in bed by the time we got back), and Hubby and I went off to a movie...popcorn, coke, the whole nine yards!

We went to see August Rush. If you like music, I would bet you'd love this movie. It pulls on your heart similarly to Mr. Holland's Opus, though the storylines are nothing alike. The best part though? I got to be alone with my husband for longer than it takes to wheel the garbage down to the curb!

Documentation:

Thanksgiving and Snow!

Thank you, Nana and Papa! We had a wonderful Thanksgiving this year. We were blessed to spend it with Michael and Brenda (Scott's Dad and step-mom) at their home in Ft. Worth. Brenda's son, Shane, is living there now too, so we also got to visit with him and get to know him a little better. This was only our second meeting with Shane since Brenda and Michael married over a year and a half ago, but we seemed to mesh into the family scene quite naturally! :)

I'm bummed that I don't have many pictures to show. At first, we were just so busy enjoying ourselves that I forgot about the camera entirely! Then it started snowing, and I remembered it...and then the batteries (which I HAD freshly charged) decided to die, and voila! We have very limited photo-documentation.

Here are a few we did manage to capture:

Scott freezing.

Brenda amazed.

Me dancing (barefoot...yes, I know I'm a dork)

Emily bewildered

Michael and Brenda

Katy, not quite awake from nap

Shane and the kiddos (Ian's first Thanksgiving!)

Ian following Cookie (he was fascinated by the dog)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Happy Birthday, Emily!

As cliche as it may sound, I honestly can't believe that it's been five whole years since we met Emily Lauren for the first time. How vividly I remember the anticipation upon arriving at the hospital. My 13 hours of labor seemed to draw on forever, and all I could think about was holding my baby for the first time. I didn't know yet that she was a girl, what she would look like, or what a mystery the love of a mother for her child was. I was nervous at the new responsibility just around the corner; I felt so ready and also totally unprepared. Then the pushing began, and I just knew I'd see my little one soon. I was a little off on the "soon" part, since it took over three hours, but it was, of course, worth every minute. The doctor exclaimed,"It's a girl!" And I saw her little head and bright, clear eyes, perfect little mouth, ten fingers and toes with tiny perfectly formed nails...and I knew at that moment that things were forever changed. Emily didn't cry or get upset; she just looked around at her new world wildly, blinking in the light. She squawked one time as they were cleaning her up and getting all the measurements and such, and I was relieved to know she was ok. They wrapped her up, handed her to Scott, he brought her to me, and all I could do was stare at her as she drifted off to sleep.

Over the past five years, we've watched her grow and change. She was the most easy-going, content baby imagineable, rarely crying and always easy to console. She is still very pleasant and happy, content in simple pleasures and always eager to learn more. She soaks in every detail of her surroundings. She's always been enthralled with every new situation, person, or object...always trying to understand. She has become more outspoken and willful, but with those traits, she has also become strong, resilient, and confident in what she knows to be true. She carefully weighs the things people say, and she is brave enough to do things alone if she disagrees with them. She is a natural leader in personality, and she's learning to follow her Savior so that she is equipped to lead.

She is Daddy's girl, a great help and joy to me, a wonderful big sister, and a caring friend to pretty much everyone she meets. She's so outgoing, and she has a special gift for making people just feel good.

Because of when her birthday falls (3 days after Katy's and right around Thanksgiving), sometimes I fear she gets slighted in the celebration department...especially in this era when everyone seems to have enormous parties. Neither of the girls ever seem to mind in the least, thoug. We actually celebrated Em's birthday yesterday because we'll be driving to Ft. Worth (for Thanksgiving) this evening when Scott gets home from work. (AND we're having an extra b-day celebration with Nana since she shares her birthday with Emily!) Em didn't get her own cake this year like Katy did, as a result of all this, but she did get to bring cupcakes to school for a special celebration in her class. She blew out candles in a leftover cupcake today. Below are a few pictures from today:

Happy birthday, Emily! We love you so much!

Katy-bug Turns 4!

My little Katelyn Grace celebrated her fourth birthday today. She has grown into such a sweet, sensitive, thoughtful, and funny little girl! She's certainly not a baby anymore, and she dazzles us with her mature compassion on a regular basis. Today, she got to choose what we were having for lunch. I offered a roast, steaks, spaghetti; she said she wanted maccaroni and cheese...UNTIL Emily muttered that she would prefer pizza. We explained to Emily that today was Katy's birthday, so it was her choice. But Katy simply piped up and said, "Okay, Em! Let's go to the 'red and salad' place and have pizza!" (She meant Mazzio's.) We asked her if she was sure; she was. So...we all went to Mazzio's for a delightful Sunday lunch. We met a lovely elderly woman there, who was using a cane...actually that's how we met her. My children embarrass me sometimes with the innocent questions they ask, but thankfully, most people are very nice about it. This particular time, Katy asked, "Why does that lady have a walking stick?" The woman overheard, and came over to answer Katy's question. Somewhere along the way, it came out that it was Katy's birthday and that she and Emily are both 4 years old right now...which prompted the lady to ask when Emily's birthday was. After a short, sweet conversation, we said goodbye to the woman and she went to her table to eat. A short while later, she reappeared with a birthday dollar for each of my girls! They were SO excited and thanked her profusely. She smiled and asked if she could get some hugs; of course my munchkins lovingly obliged.

Well, on the way home, Emily started crying because she didn't have something special to give to Katy. I told her we'd talk when we got back to the house. Upon arriving, Katy went straight to bed (just as we'd asked her to do) and Emily remained for a moment in the living room with me. She said between sniffles, "I don't get to give anything to Katy for her birthday. I want to buy her something, but I can't go to the store all alone!"

I asked what she wanted to buy for Katy. She said a camera. Both girls have been asking for cameras, so we had already bought a little one for Katy anyway. (Emily didn't know this.) I asked her how much she thought a camera would cost, and she held up her dollar and asked "would this be enough?" I told her that it just so happened that I had a camera that cost exactly one birthday dollar, (because when you're 4, a birthday dollar is extra special)...if she was sure that that's how she wanted to spend it. She nodded enthusiastically with a smile, the tears still drying on her face. She then whispered to me not to tell Katy because it was a secret surprise, and she ran off for her nap.

Ironically, later this evening, Katy was upset about not having anything for Emily's birthday...and she gave up her birthday dollar for...you guessed it...a special camera for Emily. Usually I'm organized enough to help both girls secretly make one another a card or special picture or craft...this year, I waited too long (obviously not on purpose), and then shrugged it off thinking that, at least for now, they were little enough not to really notice. How wrong I was! I must be more careful in the future!

Katy decided she wanted me to make her an "angel cake" (angelfood) this year...with red icing. It came out more of a pink...IS there a way to make actual red icing or would one have to buy it? I don't know. When I asked her about it, she decided that purple would be better than red, so I did my best. She didn't seem to mind its little idiosyncracies. She even helped me decorate by putting on some of the candy hearts and the candles, and we all enjoyed it thoroughly with her specially chosen Rocky Road ice cream. :) Here are a few pictures from our day:

Katy (about 3 months)

My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day...

Okay, honestly yesterday wasn't that bad. One situation tipped the scale on a coincidental compilation of unfortunate happenings from previous days. Let me explain by first giving some background:

Monday, Veteran's Day, Ian woke up with a fever of 101.3. After an hour and one dose of Tylenol, his fever was up to 102.7, but he wasn't fussing or acting like he felt bad. I put him down for his nap and decided to see if things would take care of themselves. When he woke up from his nap, his fever was up to 104.1, he was decidedly fussier, and he was pulling on his ears. (NOTE: Allergies have been awful for our whole family lately, and congestion backing up into a baby's ears would not be unlikely; this also increases the likelihood of an ear infection...which all my babies have been prone to.) We called the doctor to have him seen.

Mother's intuition: Ian has an ear infection and needs antibiotics.
Doctor on phone: Give him Tylenol and Motrin, alternated every 2 hours and call us back if it doesn't help.

3 hours later, the fever is still 104.1 (no effect from medication), and we have one VERY upset Ian...still pulling on ears. We call the doctor back.

Doctor on phone: We're booked today. Alternate Tylenol and Motrin and bring him to sick-call in the morning if he's still feeling bad.
Me: He has an ear infection, I'm pretty sure. Tylenol/Motrin is NOT helping.
Doctor on phone (paraphrase): We don't care. Overdose your child on meds that won't help anyway and stop calling us.
Me: *grumble grumble grumble, hangs up on arrogant doctor*

Tuesday morning, we get up after being awake all night listening to a feverish, desperate, sick, and disgruntled baby Ian all night. Scott leaves for work, and I feed, bathe, and dress three kids and myself, make a lunch for Emily, and get us out the door at 7:45; I drop Emily off at school and hustle off to the doctor's office, determined to make it there as close to 8:00 as possible and re-gruntle my disgruntled boy. Again, I'm told there are NO openings with Ian's doctor and that I should go home and call for an appointment later. Sleep-deprived-hormonal-don't-blow-me-off-Shannon swaggers a little closer to the counter and leans over menacingly, caught somewhere between tears of desperation and a homicidal fit. Through gritted teeth I demand to see a doctor NOW. They send me across the hall to a different pediatrician who *miraculously* squeezes me in. *Amazingly* it is discovered that my baby son has a HORRIBLE double ear infection (which his *obviously* medically-inept moron mother had CORRECTLY diagnosed 24 hours prior), and antibiotics are prescribed. The base pharmacy, upon driving all the way back across town, does not carry said medicine. I drive to Walmart and receive miracle drops. Ian's fever started dropping within one hour of the first dose. Incredible.

That afternoon, it becomes apparent that my house is infested with gnomes (and by gnomes I mean my children) whose sole purpose is to undo every task I seek to accomplish. I decide to begin with something easy and therapeutic: vacuuming. My vacuum cleaner, which melted its belt and consequently has a useless beater-brush, is proved worthless in removing fuzz/leaves/dirt from my immaculate (and by immaculate I mean disgusting) carpet. I decide to mop all my tile instead. It is at this point that I notice a slight, but detestable odor emanating from an unknown source in the back of my house: either the kitchen, laundry room (where the trashcan resides), or the kids' playroom. Any of those options would be believable. My house is really pretty clean, though, so I remove the trash and proceed with the mopping. The smell appears to be gone. (Really, I've just gotten acclimated to it.) I pick up Emily from school, go to work at Sylvan, and do other normal Tuesday-ish things

That night, I'm finishing up the dishes and notice the foul smell again. It seems strongest near the sink, but I'm exhausted from a very full day and opt to take care of things in the morning.

Wednesday morning (aka "The Day"), Ian wakes up (after sleeping much better), but is a bit on the fussy side. I am also on the fussy side, unable to breathe, and suffering from a sore throat and an intense headache. I press on because everyone knows that moms don't get sick days, and besides...I'm Wonder Woman. (Yeah, right.) The girls are remarkably cooperative (because the Lord is good and never gives me more than I can bear), and I get Emily off to school in time. Katy, Ian, and I proceed with our normal morning routine, and all seems well. I go to the kitchen to clean up from breakfast and start preparing for lunch/dinner/the rest of the day when I notice (even through my barely functioning nostrils) that The Stench has returned...and it's worse. I decide to go through the refrigerator, just in case there's something from dinners-past lurking in the back. There's not. (But I did discover that our yellow mustard had expired.) I then finish loading the dishwasher, scour the sink, clean the garbage disposal, clean off and disinfect every counter-top, sweep and mop the floor...I basically sterilized the entire kitchen. And still...The Stench. Where was it coming from?!

Well, then it was lunch time and I had children to feed. Fixed lunch. Ate lunch. Cleaned up from lunch. Milled around the kitchen aimlessly for many minutes thinking, "if I were something dead, where would I hide?" I decided I'd probably be in a wall or somewhere else impossible to get to, and decided in resignation to wait for my husband. When he came home from work, I believe his first words were, and I quote, "What is that SMELL?!" At this point, I was so tired and feeling so sick/congested/BLEH that I burst into tears and decided I needed to stay home from church. (...finally, though not verbally, admitting that I am NOT, in fact, Wonder Woman.) This meant flaking out on people I was supposed to be helping with the children's program, but I cheered myself with the possibility that they would understand. And besides, someone had to stay home with poor Ian. Scott graciously headed out the door with our girls and a little boy who attends with us on Wednesday nights. I fully intended to rest and recover, but...The Stench. Need I say more? Now it was truly nauseating, even with my congested olfactory glands.

The source HAD to be found! Could it be behind the stove?! No, I moved it and checked. Somewhere in one of my cabinets?? No, I systematically removed everything from nearly every cabinet. By the time Scott came home (with a whimpering, migraine-suffering-Emily, I might add), I was sure the base housing office was going to tell us we had to move so they could condemn and demolish our house searching for this dead mystery rodent...or whatever it was. I worked on getting the girls to bed (and Emily calmed down and feeling better) while Scott continued my odor-seeking quest. He couldn't find it either, but it was DEFINITELY somewhere in the kitchen. (Disgusting, I know.) We unscrewed and moved the dishwasher. Nothing. We re-searched cabinets. Nothing. We checked the pipes under the sink. Nothing. So...we moved on to the refrigerator. We moved it out from the wall...nothing. We looked at a hold in the wall where the water connection is (unused, thanks to the movers breaking our fridge's water hose/ice maker/water dispenser), and....uh oh. Mouse doo-doo in the hole. Not good...and good at the same time. At least we knew we were getting close. I get a small mirror and Scott's amazing flashlight, and Scott proceeds to inspect the far reaches of the interior of that wall...to no avail. The refrigerator? It was our last hope.

At this point, I'm feeling weak, dizzy, and VERY sick...but I press on because this problem must be solved. Katy is in bed, crying, pinching her "doze" because it's "tinky" in our house.

Stop now if you're easily grossed out.

Scott removes the lower back panel of our fridge (revealing the under-part, where the motor and fan are), and...Dun da-duh dun! There lies our dead little mouse. My only guess is that he got down in there seeking warmth and then had no way to escape...either starved to death or died of blunt force trauma from the whirling fan. He was all in one piece, though, thank the Lord! Unfortunately, when we removed him, he left a wonderful little puddle behind. Yay...dead mouse goo. And yay that my hands and arms are smaller than the hubby's. And double-yay that those two things combined meant it was my duty to wipe up said goo and sterilize all the interior refrigerator components. So...I donned my trusty yellow elbow-length rubber gloves, and gripping my Fantastik-saturated paper towels, I sopped up my mouse puddle, all-the-while groaning "Ew, ew, ew, ew....!" We Lysol-ed the snot out of that place (afraid that bleach might eat through hoses or tubing down there), and The Stench, I'm relieved to report, is now history.

Not the worst day of my life, for sure, but very possibly my grossest experience ever. I'm actively searching for a Mouse-goo Recovery Program.

The moral of this story is: Enjoy your day! After all, you could be sick and soaking up mouse putrescence!

A little fruit...

Something else I just wanted to share: this morning it was pretty cold, so Emily had to wear her puffy winter coat to school. She hates wearing it because it's...well...puffy and cumbersome and annoying to deal with. (I remember similar frustrations when I was a kid.) She doesn't respond well (typically) when required to do something she feels strongly against, so I was braced to have to do the "disciplinary mommy thing." However, she really surprised me! When I said that she'd have to wear it even though she didn't want to, she lowered her eyes and said in small voice, "Mommy, I know I need to obey. Will you pray with me and ask God to help me have a happy heart about this?" I felt tears welling up, but I scooped her up, and we prayed...and then she put on her coat and sang songs (made-up ones) all the way to school! One of those moments that really pulls on a mother's heartstrings...

BIG News!

Sunday night (the 11th), Emily received Christ as her Savior!!! She has been asking questions for quite some time, but she'd typically reach a point of satisfaction with our answers and then just let it go. We haven't really pursued her because it has to be about her relationship with the Lord, and not just a desire to please her parents.

Earlier that evening, we were at a church barbecue at a friend's house. We got home significantly past the kids' bedtime, so we bypassed the bedtime story and went straight to our prayer time. As I was covering Emily up and giving her a goodnight kiss, she said, "Mom, Jesus died for my sins, right?" I affirmed this, and told her goodnight. As I was leaving the room, she said, "Well, I want to be saved." I went back to her bedside and asked her what she wanted to be saved from. She told me she wanted to go to heaven like Grandad, so I invited her out to the living room where Scott and I could discuss things further without disturbing Katy (who was, indeed, trying to fall asleep.)

Emily said again, "I want to know how to be saved." I casually explained that you have to accept that you're a sinner, that the cost for sinning is death (Rom. 3:23 has been one of our memory verses), and that Jesus came to pay that price and die for you...so that when you are judged by God, He sees the perfect holiness of His Son, your debt already paid, and you can live with Him in heaven. We'd been to this point before, and this had always been the end of our "discussion." But that night, she asked again. "Okay, but how do I get saved?" I asked her if she'd ever done anything wrong or made any mistakes. She said yes, that that's called sin, so she's a sinner. I explained that God was perfect, so He couldn't be with people who weren't, and so everyone who sins has to die (Rom. 3:23). I explained that hell was like dying forever, all the time, and that no one could or would ever ever ever help you there. It's a terrible and scary place, but that's where sinners go. (And she knew this already and interjected at various points about satan wanting people there, etc...), but then she started crying and said, "But Mommy, I don't want to go to hell! I love Jesus and I want to go to heaven like Grandad and be alive." So, I said that God loves her so much that he made a way for her to be with him in heaven, if she wanted it. And she said, like a light bulb suddenly went off, "Yeah! God sent Jesus!" ...and she proceeded to tell me about what Jesus did on the cross, and she was right. So I asked her if she knew why that was enough, and explained that God loves us and wants us with Him, so He sent Jesus to take the death punishment for us...he was perfect, so he didn't have that debt for Himself. I used an analogy of a glass of water (heart), and how just one booger in that water would make it unclean. But Jesus' water didn't have any boogers, so if we ask Jesus to take away our sins, then God sees Jesus' water instead of our booger-y water. (It's not perfect, but it's the best I had at the time.) Then she said "Mommy, I don't want to go to hell. I want Jesus to make my heart clean and take away my sins and live in me!" And she asked if she could pray and talk to God and ask Him to save her. We said okay, Scott opened in prayer and I closed, and in the middle, Emily's prayer was something like this:

"Dear God, I'm sorry I've made you so sad by sinning. I don't want to do those things any more. I want to make You happy instead of only making me happy. Will You forgive me? Please take away my sins and save me so I can live with You in heaven someday. And help me be a missionary. Amen."

Of course, some of those may not be exact quotes, but they're pretty close. It's also hard to be really really sure; she's so young, and honestly, how do you ever really know the state of someone else's heart except by the fruit you can observe? So, I'm clinging to Matt. 19:14--"But Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for such is the kingdom of heaven.'" She is adamant that she is saved...I don't think anyone could convince her otherwise. She shared her news at school, with family (on the phone), and with her friends. She's really been conscious of the choices she's making, which has made a very noticeable difference in her behavior and attitude at home. I believe her.

There's a neat little irony with this too, at least the timing. Five years ago on this very Sunday in November, I was baptized...VERY pregnant with Emily, who was born just 11 days later! I remember the pastor saying that one day, my baptism would be a particularly wonderful testimony to my baby...and now she's almost five and has given her life to our Lord. What a gracious Savior we serve!

Tag, I'm it!

My friend Kelli tagged me to share what our family does on rainy days. I don't have any wonderful or fantastically creative ideas to share, unfortunately. We generally wing it! And...quite a bit depends on the temperature.

Earlier this year, we had more rain in Wichita Falls than I think I've ever seen. (Granted, I've lived in the desert most of my life, but still! It was A LOT of rain...by anyone's standards!) Since these storms were mainly just heavy rainfall and not thunder/lighting/hail/tornadoes, and since the weather was already relatively warm, we opted a few times to just go outside anyway! We had a great time splashing in puddles, collecting the rain in buckets (and then pouring them on each other), running around like crazy people with our tongues stuck out, trying to catch the raindrops. We sang in the rain, danced in the rain, made mud pies...it was a BLAST! One thing I learned early on, though...it's best just to don the swimsuits (and possibly trash-bag-ponchos) for activities like this. Clothes are a much bigger pain to wash mud out of, and swimsuits dry faster. AND, nothing finishes off this kind of fun better than a nice warm bath, freshly warmed-in-the-dryer jammies, a cup of hot cocoa, and a movie.

If it's not warm enough or safe enough to be outside, or if mommy is feeling tired and unwilling to get nasty, wet, and cold, we either do a craft or bake something...probably something too time-consuming or complicated for a "normal" day. It's especially fun making cards or goodies for other people...the kids feel very helpful, and it makes me feel "purposeful." Then, while it's in the oven, or rising, or drying, or whatever it has to do, we turn on fun music and dance our brains out in the livingroom. When we get too tired (or when someone gets trampled), we read books until I'm hoarse or nearly asleep...and then we watch movies or play games. I guess movies are generally our back-up plan...but it's ok and I don't feel the least bit bad about it. The kids and I really enjoy the excuse to cuddle up together with a blanket and just lay around together for a while...and it's even better when Daddy gets to be around too!

So, in a rather large nutshell, that's what our family does on those rainy days. Now, Kacey, Liesl, and Carmen: if you read this, you've been tagged to share your ideas next!