Family

I am raising a spicy little three-nager.

I love her to the stars.  She is smart…too smart.  She is hilarious.  And she is hard to discipline because of that equation.

The other night she threw a toy up and it hit something on the wall almost causing it to break.  I looked at her and asked her to not throw her toy again.

She looked at me dead in the eyes and threw it right at me, which I dodged, and it struck a picture hanging on her wall.

Glory be…I had to cling to the grace in that moment.

I pointed to the corner, she hung her head and walked the walk of shame to take a seat.  She had a few fake sniffles (she didn’t really care that she had thrown the toy…at all…so she had to fake it…smart) as she sat with her head shoved into the corner.

In our house, during time out (which makes up large quantities of time these precious days) we have a policy.

You can not get up until you can explain what you did, why you did it and how you are going to “make wiser choices” in the future.

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Dad gathered everyone out on the street for the big annual firework finale!

Dad’s not one for safety, or sanity, on the regular, so mix in fireworks and you truly never know what you’re going to get.

But he is all the way passionate about poppin’ some works.

We all gathered around and watched him set up the grand-finale fireworks display.  He had found a display that spelled out USA…which he made sure to highlight and brag about ALL DAY leading up to this moment.  Much pride over this particular kajillion dollar purchase he had made on the side of the interstate.

Display set up, Dad turned around to the crowd of onlookers and began to make a speech.  At the top of his lungs he began his monologue.  It was dramatic and full of USA love…very over the top (which is my good ole’ dad…I get it honestly you guys).  He talked about freedom and all the things that are possible for those who live in this great country.  The freedom that people have fought so hard for.  He spoke of the land of the brave, soldiers, the president (he covered all the feels) and then made us all sing the National Anthem. Read More

“Well you guys, looks like little Liv has strep throat,”  the Doctor said after swabbing the back of Liv’s throat.

(which oh by the way took 4 grown adults to pull off…all the drama and trauma)

I let out a deep sigh of relief.

What I wanted to do was jump up and down with excitement.  YAY!!  She has strep!!!

Now, before you call the kiddy-police on me…let me give you the glorious back story: Read More

We were riding in the car recently, Liv and I, having a typical car ride conversation.  (which can cover every topic under the actual sun)  Liv is a questioner, asking about every small thing that we pass on the road…. I mean everything.

She got quiet for a little while, and then began to ask me this list of questions: Read More

We were newly engaged and beginning to list out the things we would need to register for or buy for our new life together.

“We need dishes, cups, towels, a bathroom trash can…”

“Hey.  We don’t need a bathroom trashcan.  I have one we can use.”

As my beloved holds up the most God awful trash can I have ever seen.

Picture this:

A metal trash can covered in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle scenes.  Rusty and dinged up.  It literally was warped like a car had run over it and Brent had tried to straighten it back out.

This was his offering.

Why buy a new one?  Why get rid of that one?

He couldn’t comprehend. Read More

We were standing in the kitchen one morning last week.  I was watching my little Congolese crazy play on the kitchen floor as I made her breakfast.
(She eats peanuts for breakfast…don’t enter me into sainthood quite yet…”made” is a strong word)

The Lord has been challenging me lately to be more intentional with my precious snotty nosed one…and I felt Him that morning pushing me to ask her questions….engage her…and so I did.

“Nima…. what do you want to be when you grow up?”

She stood up from playing and looked up at me…very dramatically (she has a flair for it) and with a grand Broadway-type hand gesture (that she probably picked up from Frozen…for the love) she grinned from ear to ear and said…

“A DANGER.” Read More

**Warning: this blog has the word “boob” in it.  There I said it…process it, process it…you good?  Ok. **

I noticed that Liv was staring at me from across the room as we sat one evening watching TV as a family.  She was clear across the room…just staring at me.  Then I realized, she wasn’t staring at my face…her eyes were a bit south.

And into the silence she asked, very matter of factly, “Hey mom…” (not mama or mommy like a toddler is supposed to say…just Mom…like a dang teenager)

“Mom?”

“Yes baby…what is it?”

“Can I touch your boob?” Read More

We had two perfectly good, full costumes.  Costumes that made sense…that were easy to distinguish.

A full chef costume including cooking utensils and a FULL Dr. McStuffins costume complete with stethoscope.  Cute, obvious costumes that would have KILLED at the fall festival we were going to attend.

We tried them on.  NOPE.  She wouldn’t have it.  She had something in mind and it wasn’t these nice, neat put together costumes.

“What’s a chef?” she asked me.  I explained what a chef did and she didn’t understand, she looked at me with a blank stare…sad sad day…her mom has obviously not shown her what cooking actually is.

So I folded.  “Ok Liv, what do YOU want to be.”

“A unicorn sheriff with a wig,” she replied, grinning ear to ear. Read More

Walking into the Hirsch Coliseum (local venue) that night I remember thinking, “I hope my friends are here tonight.  I hope they see how hot I am.”

Now, precious ones, don’t jump on the “she’s vain” bandwagon.  Let me tell you the story.

The year was 1998.  I was 14 years old.  My mom had bought us tickets to the Miss USA pageant at the Hirsch Coliseum.  I thought for weeks about what I was going to wear.  I mean I really thought about it.  This was going to be a big night, anyone who was anyone was going to be there.  In my mind, we were VIP members to some amazing and fancy club.  I mean we were going to the Miss USA pageant… bless my soul I didn’t know that any old person could have bought tickets to this event.  Actually I think they gave them away.  Anyways… I thought I was the bomb.com because I was going.  And I remember the amount of thought I put into what I would look like and act like at this pageant. Read More

Liv, our 2 1/2 year old daughter started school two weeks ago.

It has been an adjustment….for all of us.  Here’s some of the highlights:

• The first day of school Brent made us leave a smooth 45 minutes before start time.  I was livid…that is valuable sleep time for me and Liv.  But Brent, didn’t want to be late, and wanted to beat the traffic…which there was NONE.  We sat in the parking lot for 20 minutes…waiting on the doors to be unlocked.  That same day, Brent and I showed up at 12 to pick Liv up…thinking her pick up time was 12:30 pm.  We sat in the parking lot and watched her play on the playground.  We kept debating if we wanted to go in early and get her but kept deciding we wanted to give her her whole day.  So we sat and waited until 12:30.  We walked up to the doors and they were locked…and there were no children ANYWHERE to be seen.  A teacher finally came to the door.  We realized that pick up time was at 12 not 12:30.  So, our daughter had been brought out for pick up and sat as every parent came and went.  And we never did.  But….we were SITTING IN THE PARKING LOT.  So… the first day of school and it appeared that we were 30 minutes late to pick up our sweet baby.  Don’t ask me how that happened.  I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
• For a solid week Liv gushed about her friend Junior.  She told us stories about her new friend, we asked questions and she answered.  We grew to love this little friend named Junior.  At back to school night we looked at the class list….no Junior.  We asked the teacher, no Junior.  We asked other teachers, no Junior.  Turns out, there’s not a Junior in the whole school.
• The second day we dropped Liv off, I walked her to the door and opened it to go inside.  Liv pushed me back and said, “No mama, you leave from here.”  She wouldn’t even let me through the door of her school.
• School has become Liv’s territory.  She has learned that Brent and I aren’t there…and she loves that.  She will talk the paint off a wall but if you ask her about school she looks at you dead in the eyes and just sits there silently.  Or…worst…she begins to tell you about her day and you realize that she is saying extremely outlandish things that could never be true.  Like when I asked her what she did at school and she said, ” We danced together to no music and waved our Halloween flags.”  Pretty sure that didn’t happen.
• Brent and I had our first back to school night.  We were nervous…I felt like a fish out of water.  And then…it happened….before I knew it I had signed up to be room mom, to provide supplies for the class, sell cookie dough for the new playground fence AND to buy a new hamster cage for the class hamster, Skittles.  Brent was just staring at me…I don’t know what happened…I blacked out.
• We have learned that Brent has a deep, rooted issue with Principals.  Liv’s Principal is awesome…but she unravels Brent.  In one of our earlier encounters Brent just sat and stared at her while she talked, to which she replied, “I’m guessing you aren’t a fan Mr. Hammett.”  Brent’s response:  “I’m not a fan of anything.”  I wanted to murder him.  He avoids that lady like the plague.
• The mornings are not fun around our house.  The three of us collectively stink at getting up early and getting out the door.  Liv screamed at me one morning, “LEAVE ME ALONE!  I WANT TO STAY IN HERE FOREVER…..LEAVE!!!”
• I now have stress dreams about Liv’s uniform and will wake up in cold sweats and go check the washer and dryer to make sure they are ready… on that note… I have to do laundry three times a week to keep up with the uniform demands.
• I have already asked what the maximum amount of absentees Liv can have.  There have been several mornings that I just wanted to let her stay home (mainly b/c I wanted to sleep) …I know… I’m horrible.

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