ProlificMom

I’m almost FOURDY and just recently, starting about three years ago, I started getting comfortable in the skin I’m in.  Its the only skin I have and yet I’ve never been truly comfortable in it.  However, we (my skin and me) came to an agreement.  We are all we have.  There is no other.  I can’t get new skin and my skin really isn’t going to change.  Its not a blind date that I can skip out on and I can’t pretend its not there.

So here’s the deal.  I’m white – like almost glow in the dark white – and pretty wrinkly (except for my face, no wrinkles there)  I have always had wrinkles on my hands, knees, elbows and feet, and that is never going to change.  We have made peace and its really OK.

These are my hands (well, one hand – the other was busy taking the photo.   I do all my own stunts.):  They have always been very wrinkled like a Sharpe that starts off with wrinkles and then grows into its skin.  Only, for me, the wrinkles are here to stay.  I’m never going to grow into them.  They grew with me.  But that’s OK.  I have decided that I like my hands.  They are very useful for blogging and they have kept me employed for the better part of the last 12 years.   Not to mention all the babies I have held and loved and comforted over the last 15 years.  So what if I’m not one of the pretty hands people – you know, the hand models.  I’m OK with that.

(Yes mom, this is a photo of my hand on the stove.) Only my family can appreciate the irony of this photo.  I burned both of my hands on a stove top burner when I was five.  I will have to share that story another day.  Lets just say I was a very curious child.  To this day I don’t like to stick my hands in the oven.  So’ I don’t bake much.

These are my feet:  It was only a few years ago that I was actually willing to wear open toe shoes in public.  In fact, someone once told me that I had hillbilly feet.  After that I was traumatized and I never exposed me feet in public again.  Well, at least not until a few years ago.

I actually used to be jealous of girls with pretty feet.  They wore open toe shoes and sandals all the time with such confidence as if it didn’t bother them at all.  I guess they were comfortable in the skin they were in.  Now I laugh, thinking that I was actually jealous of some-one’s feet.  How crazy is that?   I’ll never be a pretty feet foot model.  But now, we are at peace and I say less is more – less shoes more naked toe wiggle room.

I’m almost FOURDY and I’m finally OK with the skin I’m in.

Today I am linking to Kristin at We Are THAT Family for her 2nd Blogoversary Celebration and sharing with you some of the reasons that we too are THAT FAMILY.

Sometimes kids say the funniest things.

In my case, they say the MOST EMBARRASSING THINGS.  It NEVER FAILS.  If there is something spontaneous and just bad that can be said at an inconvenient time, it will come out of on of my kids mouths.

One day I came home to an episode of Seinfeld on television.  As I walked through the door it just  happened to be the episode where George is meeting with Texas businessmen who use the phrase for Son of a B!@#% over and over and over.   As I turned the corner in my living room I noticed that ALL of my children were watching TV.    This is where it goes into slo-mo for me as I  play it back in my head.  I was trying to run to the TV as fast as possible to turn it off or change the channel before it could be repeated but toooooo laaaaate.

For the next six months our four year old son (#2) repeated it as often as possible at home and in public.  The public part was mostly at church.

This is the same child who, the same year, got so angry when he had to go to the church nursery one Sunday night that he told the nursery worker the following:  ”I HATE YOU AND I HATE MY DAD AND I’M GOING TO CUT YOUR BUT OFF WITH AN ELECTRIC SAW.”  Yes, he has always been intelligent beyond his years and equally articulate.

Same son had to be removed from kindergarten after the first week and a half due to his daily meltdowns and there was also the physical assault on the assistant principal.

Several years later,  our three year old son (#3) aka: “clone of son #2″  showed us that he was his brother’s equal in every way.

They say that the Preachers kids are always the worst and this is why:  It was a very hot Texas Friday night in June.  I was on staff as the Director of Children’s Ministry and we were having an ice cream social at church.  The air conditioner in our building went out so we ate the ice cream as fast as possible because it was melting.  Everyone was thirsty.  We were singing Father Abraham.  If you are not familiar with this song, its kind of like the Hokey Pokey.  Half way through the song, #3 calls out that he is thirsty.  ”Mom, I’m thirsty” over and over and louder and louder.  I’m thinking I will wait until the song is over and then get him something to drink but #3 doesn’t want to wait.  He is so mad that I ignored him that he yells out from the back of the room – in the presence of all of the kids and their moms and one of our church board members: “I HATE YOU JACK A SS MOM…STUPID JACK A SS MOM!”  Imagine my embarrassment.  I continued with the song through the end and then we went outside to deal with issue.  He is so much fun at parties!

Two years later he was suspended from kindergarten on the second day of school for punching another student in the stomach.  As soon as I got the call from the school I called my mother and cried over the phone.

The stunts my kids have done have pushed me to the edge of reality.  They have climbed on the roof with butcher knives, thrown poop on the ceiling in the middle of the night, put Vaseline in my hairbrush, set a fire in the closet and I could go on and on and on but there is not enough time.  This is one of the reasons I started blogging.  Its really cheap therapy.   I’ve cried as many tears of agony as tears of joy.  I love them all more than life itself and I can’t function properly without them.  Children are a gift from God and BOY AM I GIFTED!!  In fact, I think I have been over endowed.   They are the gift that keeps on giving.  I can’t wait to see what they are going to be when they grow up.

We are definitely THAT family.

In almost exactly six months I will turn FOURDY.  I know, its misspelled because I’m not ready to say the actual number. This is the beginning of my countdown.

This number has always seemed soooo far away. Its a number other people have reached and we celebrated.  My two older sisters hit this magic number a few years ago and now its MY TURN.   I can only imagine how this must make my mother feel knowing that three of her children are over the half way mark.  I say its the half way mark because anything over 80, in my opinion, is a bonus.

Just recently, in the last few years, I started to feel the effects of aging – partly the effects of time and partly the effects of giving birth to FIVE little bowling balls – four of which were over 8 lbs and one of those was 9 lbs and 4oz ( At birth the doctor said he was the size of a SIX WEEK OLD – just what every mother wants to hear.)

OK, I will just say it now -Sometimes I FEEL OLD!  Actually, in my mind I’m still fifteen.  I want to go to Six flags as soon as the gates open and stay until they make me leave at the end of the night.  That’s what my mind tries to make me do, but my body – she’s no fool – she knows my limitations and she begs and pleads with my mind to make it stop.  It’s a battle of wills between the teenager and the little old lady in me, and its only the day after one of these crazy stunts that they actually agree.  There are sooooo many things my body just doesn’t want to do anymore and shes trying to change my way of life.

So, FOURDY is approaching.  Its got me in its sites and I have determined that its probably not going to slow me down.  Well, maybe just a little bit.  If this is the half way mark, that means that there are at least (hopefully) FOURDY PLUS MORE years of adventure, amusement parks, books to read, family and children to love, bikes to ride, new paths to take,  walks to enjoy, flowers to smell, new foods to try, Presidents to elect, pictures to take and blogs to write (and soooooo much more)  - but definitely no more trampolines (that is one area where my mind and my body definitely agree).

This is the beginning of my TURNIN FOURDY COUNTDOWN.  I really am OK with this magic number.  I come from a long line of strong, spunky and adventurous women and they are leading the way.  I don’t know if I will age gracefully but there will be lots of fun and laughter (and definitely chocolate ice cream).

All of my days are blessed  and every day, no matter how crazy or chaotic it may seem, is a gift from God.  Every day is an opportunity to honor Him, to serve Him and to teach my children to love Him.

I’m TURNIN FOURDY and that’s OK with me.

Kitty Criss-Cross

Today was a great day.  Our Pastor delivered an awesome and timely message on the 23 Psalms.  After church I cooked dinner while the kids took the kitties out play in the back yard.  They ran and  played (the kitties) and had a good time.  This was the first time I have allowed them to play outside.  Although the Mister told me that the kids had been taking them outside when I wasn’t around.  Yikes!!

After dinner I took a loooong nap.  It is, after all, a day of rest.  Even the kitty’s know that.  They slept all afternoon in a dining room chair.

This is my George Foreman Grill.  Its the older version with the non-removable cooking plates.  I love cooking on it…..but I can’t figure out how to clean it.  If I clean it after cooking, its still too hot.  If I wait until it cools down, the food is stuck to the non-stick surface and it takes a lot of effort to clean.  It can take up to 30 minutes to clean.  If I use non-stick spray it causes a sticky buildup and the food still sticks. What am I doing wrong?

Does anyone have some good advice about how to clean a George Foreman Grill?  Please, Please, Please leave me your comments.

Recently, a reader asked how I added my signature to my posts.  There are several ways to do this depending on which blogging platform you are using.  I clicked on the reader’s link to find out more about where she blogs – Blogger.  I have included instructions for both Blogger and WordPress self hosted sites.  Please be sure to read through the instructions before starting the process.

For Google Blogspot bloggers:

1. Create your signature file and save it on your computer as a .jpg or .png (this is another tutorial for another day.) I saved mine as a .png with a transparent background.
2. Login to your Google Blogger Blogspot account and create a new post.
3. Upload your signature file like you are uploading a photo into a post.
4. click on the Edit HTML tab at the top of your post.  This will show you the HTML code for the file you just uploaded.
5. copy the code by highlighting and press ‘Ctrl’ + ‘c’.
6. Be sure to save your post but DO NOT PUBLISH IT.  This will ensure that your signature file is saved and accessible.
7. Now that you post is saved.
8. Click on your Settings tab.
9. Click on “formatting”
10. Scroll to the bottom of the page.
11. In the box that says “Post Template” paste the code you just copied from your unpublished post.
12. Click on the Save Settings button at the bottom of the page.
13. Now, every time you start a new post, the signature file will show up at the top of the box.   Be sure to type your text before the image or above the code if you are typing in the HTML view.

Try it and let me know if it works for you. Read more…

Dressed for Dinner

I couldn’t get him to take the helmet off long enough to eat so I decided that it was not a battle worth fighting.  What could it hurt?  If he fell out of his chair during dinner at least his head would be  protected.

This is ProlificMom Breaking New:

The time is 8:58 PM CT and I have just been handed this special request from #5.

Special Request

In a related story.....