Cleaning is Something I should do more often

I have let my kids' rooms get out of control. I am ashamed to admit it, but it is very true...and even actually a little funny. I decided yesterday was going to be the day that I tackled my youngest two children's room. What started out as a well intentioned thorough cleaning, full of enthusiasm and high expectations, ended with a crazy woman purging toys and other objects that were found in their rooms by the trash bag full. I couldn't believe the mismatching toys, parts of games, used pull-ups, single socks, occasional pair of Elmo panties, or other various odds and ends that I found in there. It was actually like a treasure hunt, but imagine a treasure hunt where you would rather not find what was buried under all the toys.

Here are the top ten "best" things that I was surprised to find in my kids room:

1. Missing pieces from Candyland game
2. One domino (How have we even been playing the game without this one domino?)
3. 14 pencils
4. 4 markers with no caps
5. 9 socks, none of them with matches
6. 27 ponytail holders
7. 2 Dried out packages of wipes
8. smashed-into-my-carpet cherry lip balm (birthday gift to Courtney)
9. an old wet pull up sealed inside a plastic bin...the smell when I opened this bin was...well you can imagine

and the best thing that I found in my kids room was......

10. A sippy cup half full of chocolate milk from a week ago!! Yummy!! There really isn't anything better than finding soured milk. It is something I wish I could experience daily.

Number 10 was especially amusing to me because the kids are not allowed to even take water out of the kitchen, much less anything that actually spoils. I think I have lost control completely.

I actually believe that most of these findings were a result of Courtney's newest phase of rebelliousness. I say "No," and she hears, "Sure do what you want; you are the princess in this house." She is definitely scoring some good blog points these days. If I only had time to write about all of them.

So in conclusion I would like to invite everyone over to see Kayci and Courtney's clean room. After 3 hours of deep cleaning, the bio hazard people have declared it livable again. If you do come and visit please don't look at any other room in the house, or at the top of my fans. I'm doing the best I can while still maintaining my heavy television schedule. This includes, but is not limited to, 3different CSI episodes per week, HOUSE, and WITHOUT A TRACE. I am a loyal fan, and the casts of all these shows depend on my faithfulness.

Someone should be able to count on me. Right?

This IS NOT very funny...but still true

This is the reason my blog has been stagnant this week. This is just one side of my precious van. The other side is equally scarey as well as the back from being rear-ended by not only someone behind me, but also by the girl who hit me in the first place. She bounced off the front; spun around and hit me again. All because she didn't have a drivers license and she thought red meant go. I'm still kind of in shock about the whole thing and really have nothing but negative things to say about life and what treats continue to come my way.

Ok, there is one bright spot. Neither Haley nor I were severly injured. The officer on scene said if we'd been in a smaller car we could have been killed. So three cheers for mini vans!!

Steve once again did not answer his phone, (and I really can't write about this without putting my fingers through the keyboard) but I found out the depth of friendships I had by those who stopped to help. God really sent special people to help me.

Words Hurt

How do you communicate this little fact to children? Why is it that they say horrible things to people without thought for the pain their words may cause? As someone who is overly sensitive anyway, I find it hard to believe that my offspring can be so hurtful to others sometime. And lets be honest, embarrassing to me!!

About a month ago, my sweet little 3 year old Courtney was jabbering about to a stranger. We were at a country club watching my sister give tennis lessons. Courtney was being her usual "shy" self and was impressing this man with her command of the English language. I was partially listening, measuring the level of annoyance from this patient stranger. When all of a sudden she said, "Hey, you know what? Brown people are bad guys." The look on the guys face said it all. His instant conclusion was, "Oh, this is one of THOSE type of families...white supremacist or those trying to make sure our borders stay closed and "brown people" are forced to go back from where they came." I swallowed hard and said, "What did you say Courtney?" (Why I wanted her to repeat it...I'm not sure...I was hoping that I heard wrong or that my apparent surprise would assuage any incorrect conceptions this man may have already drawn.). She giggled and said, "Brown people are bad guys right mom?" I quickly walked away and said over my shoulder, "Whose kid is that anyway?" I wonder whatever happened to that impertinent child.

Instance number two:

This past weekend my three children were left with my mother, then my grandmother (Gigi), then my mother-in-law. The variety alone may have been too much for my precious little girls, but it was necessary so I could go and be a pastor's wife for a weekend retreat. (I think this needs a blog all by itself...stay tuned). While staying in the care of my mother, Gigi (pictured above) came over to watch them while my mom played tennis one morning. Upon entering my house both Kayci and Courtney started laughing. My grandma, so thrilled to see these little angels, said, "What's so funny sweet girls?" At which time Courtney, allegedly repeating what Kayci had just said, blurted out, "You're fat." To which my grandma simply replied, "Oh, ok." When I asked Kayci why she said it in the first place she replied that she thought it would be funny. I really don't even want to keep writing. I'm so humiliated and so hurt for my grandma. My grandma, surprisingly said that she thought it was no big deal and very funny. She had a good attitude about it, but I have decided that my children will be given a script everyday of the things they can say and who they may speak to. Deviation from this script will require some kind of consequences. They obviously need this kind of control.

So in the future you will see my children walking along with a written out script of what they can say. If they don't talk to you, just feel lucky. They would have probably called you a bad guy, fat, old, balding, or any other insecurity you may have. My kids seem to think that kind of stuff is funny.

I have failed. (It's only funny if I say it first.)

For Female Readers ONLY

The annual exam. Is there anything worse? Really. I know there are tragedies that happen in this life, but is there anything worse than this event, that we purposely, and healthfully put ourselves through? I have just returned from one such exam and feel pretty good that I will wait another 4 years before entering those doors again. While the paper vest and sheet they provide are considerate, the vulnerability and utter humiliation I feel as I maneuver these "clothes" into the most modest position is borderline unbearable. My particular doctor loves that he and I have tennis in common and while probing areas I like to keep private; he discusses things like his serve versus my net game. Is my backhand or forehand better? Meanwhile sweat is trickling out of my armpits, making giant, visible drops on the nice paper shirt they have given me to wear. I'm pretty certain the pulse reading and blood pressure reading are inaccurate because my fight or flight response is really kicking into high gear. Do I kick nice doctor in the face or do I take off running out of the office warning other woman what is going on behind these innocently closed doors, precariously holding my paper goods in the most appropriate spots? It is quite the dilemma. So while I will keep the details personal, because you all know what goes on, the experience seemed blog worthy because the whole ordeal arises empathy in even the toughest of souls... if you are a woman. If you are a man and still reading this...shame on you...but at least I don't have to get my prostate checked. Ha! Ha!

The best part of the exam was when he said, "You weigh the same amount now that you did six weeks after giving birth to your third child." That was four years ago...is this an insult or a congratulations, or just sheer incredulity? I choose to take it as an insult, but realize there is not a thing I can do about it. This may be what I weigh for the rest of my life. However, there are worse things he could have said.......like "You're Pregnant." Oh hallelujah he didn't say that. Hallelujah!!

Serving our Purpose

For those of us left behind and in honor of my grandpa James Alford Blundell:

How many prayers have gone up over the years, asking, no begging for us to have more time with grandpa? And how many times was that prayer graciously answered? I think back to all of the medical crisis that God has amazingly saved my grandpa from and wanted to shout, “Just one more time God!! Just one more time.” I found myself thinking after speaking with my mom, “I’m not ready.” “This was so unexpected.” The reason I was feeling like this is because when it was expected, and when I had prepared myself, God miraculously saved my grandpa and all was well in my world. So what was different this time? Was God indifferent? Did he turn a deaf ear to my cries? The answer is simple. God is never indifferent to my pain, nor does he ignore the prayers of his kids. But I am reminded yet again about where to place my hope. God promises always to calm the storm. He calms my storm this time by reminding that each life has an ordained termination point. Grandpa had a full life. He was given more time then we at first expected. We all had time to say good-bye at various times. He died knowing that his kids and grandkids loved him so much. It was time for Grandpa to go. Therefore it is time for me to release him.

The Bible says in Acts, “When David had served God’s purpose in his own generation, he fell asleep; he was buried with his fathers and his body decayed.” The reason I bring up this verse is to highlight the part that says “served God’s purpose in his own generation.” Oh, to be able to embrace the fact that we are here, serving a purpose…God’s purpose in our generation. Grandpa served God’s purpose in his generation. We all have stories of what that purpose was, but it can be summed up in a few statements. Grandpa loved hard work, he loved his family, and he loved God. Now where is the purpose in this you may ask? All three of these require an act, a determined act, a purposeful act. Using Newton’s First Law of Motion: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Basically this means there is a response. So while Grandpa acted on his purpose, lives around him were moved, were impacted and were changed. You could not find a member of grandpa’s family that doesn’t know how to, and appreciate hard work. And while grandpa showed his love in a tough kind of way; there isn’t one of us who didn’t know he loved us with his whole being. And one only has to look at his library to realize that his love for God grew with each day longer God aloud him to have. And speaking for myself, that is a goal I have in my life. So while Grandpa simply fulfilled his purpose in his generation, those of us closest to him were forced to change. That was Grandpa’s purpose: to mold the next three generations. Yes, his purpose reached as far as 3 generations. I’m so glad God had a purpose for Grandpa’s life. I’m so grateful that that purpose included marrying the best wife in the world and being daddy to my mom. I’m so thankful that I know how to drive a pick-up truck on dirt roads, kill a snake if necessary with a hoe, and play dominoes with the most serious of domino players. He gave me my first taste of sugar cane, laughed that silent laugh that shook his whole body when I said something funny, and always, even in his last days, wanted to know how I was feeling, how my breathing was and if I was taking care of myself. Obviously this list is abbreviated, but this is just MY list. Everyone that knew grandpa has a story of how his purpose impacted their lives.

In conclusion the book of Hebrews is full of statements of faith, “By faith Abraham…, by faith Moses, …, by faith the people passed through the Red Sea, by faith the walls of Jericho fell… by faith Rahab…and others are mentioned. I would like to add Grandpa to this list and write his faith statement: “By Faith James Alford Blundell married and stayed married, worked and worked hard, and served his family and his country with all that was in him. “So therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” …and serve God’s purpose in our generation.

Cutest Girls Ever

Bathrooms Across America

The title lends itself to a false conclusion. We actually didn't venture across America, but only 1000 miles from our cozy home in California to the gorgeous expanse of Estes Park, Colorado. (I actually find myself wondering why people choose to live in California versus Colorado, but here we are and here we stay.)

However, along this 1000 miles of highway I encountered something I never anticipated discovering. Before I disclose this marvelous epiphany, let me set it up like this. From the first time you change a diaper of your precious baby, you fantasize about the time in the future when diapers will no longer be a part of your life. From simple "wet" diapers, to full out explosions that climb up the back of your tiny, helpless child, the hope that someday diapers will be a thing of the past keeps you changing that one last diaper. The stench of dirty diapers can be muted by the knowledge, that someday, somehow, you will only REMEMBER diapers, not be an active participant with the diapers. Well folks, after 8 years of such occurrences in my life I finally waved diapers good bye. Jubilantly I bragged to my friends that I no longer had to change a diaper. But with all good news, comes a small bit of bad news. The bad news I discovered on this trip.

I have never been inside more bathrooms in so many different locations in my life. I think we visited 8, 451, 901 bathrooms on this trip to and from Colorado. I tried to make sure the kids all went to the bathroom at logical stops like the gas stations or the food establishments. But never could we make it all the way between these stops without having to make an emergency stop at some other restroom along the way. I have to say the best bathrooms were in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. We stopped here to walk along the river and hike a trail. (The hiking thing is also an issue I would like to discuss at a later time). These bathrooms were exemplary in their looks, smells, and over all cleanliness. This surprised me, and is worth mentioning, because it was a bathroom along a river where people rode bikes and hiked. I expected a mess, really, of carelessly unflushed toilets and moist floors. However, these characteristics inhabited most food establishments. I couldn't believe how disgusting bathrooms were in food places. It made me not want to eat; and made my stomach churn when I would hear those fateful words: "Mom, I gotta go potty." These words I wanted to hear for so long...struck fear through my body when I heard them. Fear in the sense, that I never knew what was going to be on the other side of the door marked "WOMEN."

Some toilets, usually at places that only had one toilet in total, were way to high for my tiny girls. So I found myself having to maneuver them onto the toilets avoiding any unnecessary touching of anything around the toilet. Then holding them on the toilet while reaching for the toilet paper to then figure out the best course for wiping. This again, while avoiding any touching of other bathroom paraphernalia that may have been present. It was a sight; I now wish I had taken pictures. Most places had the "motion sensitive" water and paper towels, that just confirmed to me over and over...I am actually invisible.

The trip was good...and thankfully there were no accidents...several close calls...a couple of tense moments...but no accidents. I am thankful that my girls are potty trained, but I considered more than once putting them all in diapers just for the rode trip part of the vacation. Would that have been wrong?