Dylann's Lovelies

My Dylann is 7. My Dylann loves with absolute abandon. The recipients of her love belong mostly to the stuffed animal family, but she is an equal oppurtunity lover. At the moment the number is 17. 17 is the number of animals that make their way into and extremely oversized bag and are toted to safety when our family has to seek shelter in a storm or for a sleepover at grandma's. These 17 are also the reason she struggles to find joy in going anywhere (including Florida!) where she isn't allowed to take all 17. This deep devotion isn't limited to stuffed dogs and American girl dolls; anything she deems herself "protector" of would fall in her category. Yesterday, it was her hand-me-down pink wallet with an "R" on the front (for her big sister Rylee), complete with $7.00 and a VIP license from Chuck E. Cheese. You see yesterday we, along with several thousand of my fellow Joplinites, braved the mall for some bargain shopping. 2 hours, 2 pairs of jeans, 2 pairs of boots, 1 potty break and a snack at the Great American Cookie later we are walking through the rain back to our car when it hits her.....her beloved is gone. With an agonizing scream of "It's gone! I have to go find it!", she is out the door and halfway across the parking lot before I can catch her. If I would have known I would be sprinting in the rain I would have re-thought my shoe choice of high heel boots. But, If I'm going down, at least I'll look good on the ground! Unfortuneatly it wasn't me who went down, it was Dylann. She hit the hard ground of the mall hard. Now sobs of pain mix with sobs of fear as we limp around to every place we can remember being with no luck in finding her lovely. With arms around each other we begin to head back to the car when she looks up at me, tears brimming and chin quivering, "Mom, it's O.K. It's not as bad as loosing a member of my family." Oh wallet and 17 stuffed animals, you don't deserve the love and devotion of this sweet little girl! Where did she learn love like this? Love that puts others first. Love that loves getting nothing in return. Love that may cause pain in order to be given completely. I know I am suppose to set the example of Christ for my daughter, but today she reminded me of the way He loves us. As I think about some rough things I have heard about taking my family to Sudan this week, I am reminded that I am one of His, and even though I don't deserve it, He'll protect me where ever He takes me. He loves me when I don't get it right, and when it was necessary His love was filled with pain as he laid His life down for mine. It's in love like that, I can feel safe. With that thought I know that I can greatfully be thrown in the bag that He holds close and go wherever He wants me to go for He is my savior and I am His lovely.

I don't even know what to name this one.

So it's never good when you begin your day walking in 10 minutes late for your kids dentist appointments (that you forgot about) apologizing that they haven't even brushed their teeth this morning. Never the less, this is how I began my day, and as if the rest of my day took cue from the beginning, it was down hill from there. Four cavaties and the "Do you accept kidneys for payment" conversation later, we are off to run our errands for the day. Every once in a while the planets align just right and I can stroll in to Wal-Mart as if I am the mom who has it all together. I nod sympathetically at those overwhelmed by the temper tantrum going on in her cart because I am at Wal-Mart ALONE. The confidence in every step as I am able to walk directly to what I need without a detour to the bathroom, without a nervous glance to the security camera as I debate "Will I be arrested for spanking my child who is yelling at me over a box of fruity pebbles?" On those days I can pretend I have it all together. Today however, I wanted to throw the box of fruity pebbles at "those moms" as I was the one with the tantrum in my cart. It began with "Mom how much is this so I can save for it?" and quickly digressed to a painfully sobbing "Don't you love me? I need it!" (tear, tear, snot, snot). Don't think I even actually made it out of the store buying anything before it was time to meet my grandma for our weekly Chic-fil-A experience. Thinking my day may turn around after a quiet lunch watching the kids play through the glass in the playroom was short lived as in the car I hear "Mom, there was a mean kid in the playroom so we pushed him down the slide." Hands on the steering wheel, brakes on, head down as I now mentally add Chic-fil-A, along with Wal-Mart and my dentist to the list of places that will cringe when we walk in. One mommy lecture on "being kind to even the mean kids" later we pick up my oldest 2 from school and arrive back at the dentist for their appointments. It is only as we are walking in that I realized it was pajama day at school and my kids are in their P.J.'s. (What drug was I on when I thought it was a good idea to schedule 5 dentist appt.s in the same day?) Two fights in front of the dentist, one more cavity and a "your daughter needs to start braces" later, we are ready to leave. Not however before Hagen decides to overflow the watercooler in the waiting room all over the floor. I'm not sure six months is enough time to recover before I have to usher them all back to the dentist again. After an award winning dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup I am almost giddy at the thought of bedtime, the sign that I can file this day away and never look back. As I tuck Hagen in bed (early, because bedtime didn't come soon enough), he says "Mom, I don't know why I was such a jerk today." This coming from the tired mouth of a five year old was the redeeming light in my day. " I forgive you bud." (Not enough to get out of bed, just enough to do it all again tomorrow.)

What shocks you?

Today I was driving in my husband's truck and I kept getting the strangest long glances from people I was passing by or next to in traffic. I kept thinking "I know this is a sweet ride, 1970 pick up with an aqua stripe down the side, but really this southern Missouri, it's been done before." As I kept driving, thinking about the starved for entertainment citizens of Joplin, I caught a glimpse of what my two front seat passengers were wearing. I was traveling with spider man in full body Spidey suit, and Cinderella complete with tiara. We looked like we were going to a Halloween party. No wonder the odd looks in August. So perhaps the most revealing question of the day for me was "When did it happen?" When did traveling with a circus become something that is so the norm that I don't even notice anymore? What else in my life have I become so accustomed to that it's shock value has worn off and I have become calloused.
Josh and I are going through a major re-evaluation time. What do we have just to have. What do we think we need because the world tells us we do. What have we become so accustomed to putting up with that we don't even notice it's offense to us, or to God? So far we have come up with Coke is in, SUV is out. Coke is in, sayin crap all the time is out. Coke is in, cell phones out? (jury is still out on that one). Can you tell I have a slight addiction. Learning how to be best friends again is in, buying lots of shoes is out. Learning how to trust God when the checkbook makes us sad needs to be in, trying to do it all ourselves is out. Living each day as a blank page for Him to fill is in, over scheduling is out.
As I glance outside the window at Spidey mowing the yard with daddy, I think some things are definitely OK to get used to and I pray that I will always be shocked by those that aren't. (As long as it's not Coke :))

94

Ninety-four didn't mean anything to me 1 week ago. It isn't the number of M&M's I just consumed (maybe close though). It isn't the number of days until Christmas (I don't think). And it isn't my waist size (unless I keep eating m&m's). It is, however, the reason I will join hundreds of other mothers and squint my eyes for two hours 3 days a week for the next 2 months. It is Carson's football number. It is an odd feeling to watch someone I know every inch of; someone I have watched, fed, loved, fed, obsessed over, and fed for eight years, throw on a jersey and a helmet and get lost in a sea of identicle football droids. I see him, I blink, I lose him. So 94 is my lifeline to my little droid. I am not allowed on the field. He doesn't need the cute red igloo I filled with ice water and wrote "Beck" on, because "Mom, the coach gives me water." For two hours his coach slips on my size 8.5 shoes and Carson's allegiance is to him. As I sit back and watch #94 follow instructions to run at high speeds into immobile objects knocking out anything in his way, I wonder "What happened to my shy little guy who still wants me to walk him into school and make sure his nightlight is on?" How quickly we can change who we are to match the company we keep. We tell our kids "Don't forget WHO your are and don't forget WHO'S you are." Do I do that? Do I remember that even though the Little Ceasar's pizza guy forgot to write down my 10 pizza order that I specifically called in 2 hours early to make sure that the unenthusiastic teenage manager had plenty of time to do his job. Do I do that Even though I took time to plan my day around a 5:30 on the dot pick up giving me just enough time to get home to the 17 people aggitated with hunger and awaiting my arrival? No one, not the manager, not the 12 trainees eagerly awaiting instruction and a"Little Ceasar's" t-shirt, not the nurse clutching her keys and a $20 in line behind me, knew that I belong to someone. I did though. I knew that Someone knows my number by heart and is squinting at me, hoping I wouldn't forget that I promised to belong to him and live my life for him (even among fast food employees who don't appreciate my schedule or timely service).
As I watch Carson run over for a drink he helps somene up and lets them in front of him in line. He gives me a thumbs up. He didn't forget today. Hope he never does. Wish I had 94 more just like him.

Shopping for football gear is a man's job

Carson is playing football. Insane amount of practices but we are going to give it a whirl. Pretty excited about everything except the part that took me to the store to buy a cup and a jock strap for an 8 year old. First try...went to the store....looked at the various sizes....laughed like I was 12, looked around grabbed the kids (who were trying on various equipment I'm sure they weren't suppose to touch) and left vowing to make Josh go back to get the job done. When the next practice day rolled around and my husband hadn't been able to "get the item", I set my jaw, made a beck train of 5 holding hands through the parking lot and hit the football aisle again. This time all eyes were (5 of them) were on the jock strap section. "Mom what's that?"..."Nothing, don't touch". "Do you wear them on your face?". "No. Look over there, water bottles!"
Finally a sales lady (LADY YEAH!!!) came to my rescue with the last youth size available and the Beck train heads for the check out with Hagen announcing, "Carson, we got your wienie protector!" I pretend like I don't hear, we check out and head to the car. I did it!!! Assuming the humiliation is over I smile as I pull out of the parking lot, pretty proud of myself. As I glance over I notice Carson in the front seat next to me, wearing the jock strap on his head using the cup like a boat on the dash board. The humiliation is never over. How long is football season?