We got dressed up as Thomas...
...and a Pumpkin Princess.
We practiced Trick or Treating...
...went to a neighbor's Halloween party...
...and got started early with our Trick or Treating.
We played with a dog dressed up as a police officer.
We ran into our friend, Charlotte.
We got tired fairly quickly.
And we headed home to eat candy...
And pass some out to Trick or Treaters!
It was a fun night! Happy Halloween, everybody!
This week, Greg and I made a momentous decision. We decided that, due to their improvement in pew-stamina, we were going to try to keep our kids with us all through church service instead of just up to the sermon. This decision was not to be taken lightly, as the sermon has become the last bastion of our "own" time during church. It also necessitated a trip to Target for some new, extra-special quiet toys, now known as "sermon toys:)." Thinking about the phenomenon of keeping small children with you in services made me think about all the ways my conception of church, and especially my conception of the actual service, has changed since having kids. So I decided to make a list of all the new developments:
You know you are a mother in church when:
1. You need a sherpa to help you get all your "gear" into church: purse the size of a duffel bag? Check. Diaper bag? Check. Bag with quiet toys? Check. Snacks? Check. Baby carrier? Check. Wait, is the baby in it? Oh, good. Check!
2. You now think of every part of the worship service in terms of the level of quietness needed to be respectful. Singing rocks. No one notices if your child is repeatedly asking for cheerios while having forgotten how to whisper. Prayers? Better keep it short, buddy. And the Lord Supper is...(dum, da dum, dum)...the Gauntlet. Only the strong survive.
3. You have ever almost eaten a cheerio instead of the bread during the Lord's Supper. That has happened more than once.
4. You have ever silently and fervently prayed, "Dear God, I know you shut the mouths of lions for Daniel. I know you have the power to shut my children's mouths. Please do so now."
5. You forget that you are technically supposed to close your eyes while praying. You know that if you close your eyes while praying, there is a good chance that the guy leading the prayer will be holding your child in his arms when you open them again.
6. You no longer evaluate people based on anything besides their level of coolness with the fact that you just accidentally made your child sound like an Indian brave while patting her mouth trying to get her to stop babbling during the Lord's Supper. Actually, you have no idea who is cool with that fact and who is giving dirty looks because you never look up. You just will the moment to be over.
7. The rules that say, "No food and drink in the auditorium," have become an outdated mandate that no longer applies, kind of like the Old Covenant. I mean, yeah, you're not going to be knocking back a Pepsi in the middle of service, but snacks are a must. No cheerios, no peace.
8. You have ever wondered, "Why do I bother?" I wondered that often when Luke was a little baby, and I would spend two hours feeding him, bathing him, getting him dressed, and feeding him again before church, only to spend the entire 45 minutes of services pacing in the foyer bouncing him. I wondered that when it seemed like every part of the service was a hurdle to get through, and no longer had anything to do with bringing me closer to God.
Now, three years later, I know very well why I bother. I bothered because I was (and to an extent, still am) in a phase where I needed the church WAY more than they needed me. I'm sure they could do without the inadvertent Indian brave noises, do without the stray cheerio on the carpet, do without the wails echoing through the halls as I rush a kid out of the auditorium. But I couldn't do without them, the body of Christ. I remember so clearly one Sunday night after a week of thinking I was going to lose my mind as a mother, a week where Greg was out of town, and I was at home alone in a new, partially unpacked house with a two month old and a twenty month old. An older man stopped me that night during the birthday party after church and asked how I was doing. He said he knew how intense it could be with two children so close in age. I, of course, put on a big smile and said how, yes, they were a handful, but I know I'm not supposed to rush this time b/c they are such a blessing. Which is what I was supposed to say. Which is what I heard all the time, and what I thought he was about to say. And this kind man did not look at all convinced by the wisdom of that proclamation and responded doubtfully, "Yeah...but it is still a really intense time. It does get better." I wanted to hug him. That is just what I needed to hear. (And it has gotten SO much better.) That same night I sat in the empty auditorium with another mom and had a serious bonding time talking about how overwhelmed we were. It was cathartic. I also remember a time when I had to stay with my kids in the nursery because one or both were fussing, and I fretted to the ladies in there about how I was so "behind" on so many things (potty training, paci-weaning, etc.), and these wonderful ladies in all different phases of life assured me in no uncertain terms that I was doing just fine, and not to worry about when I was "supposed" to do things.
So, no, the actual worship service is no longer the conduit to the Lord it once was. I now have to--shocker!--cultivate my own relationship with God all throughout the week. But having kids has brought me to a whole new understanding of the function of the body of Christ. I love to go to church not because of some mental checklist of things I must do to please God, but because I get to commune with and be strengthened by the body of Christ. And so that I can hopefully encourage and strengthen others around me.
And that, to me, is worth a few cheerios on the carpet.It was a great day to go to the pumpkin patch with our Mommy and Me group. Though the sky was overcast, the temperature was perfect.
We had a great time on the jump castle, the sand pile, the big tube slide, the petting zoo, the hayride, and the hay bales. We finished our outing out with a picnic lunch with our friends. What a great day!
Last night, Greg had his first Friday night at home in over a month, so we decided it was time to introduce the kids to Aladdin. Which meant it was time for our second official "Movie Night."
Waiting in (over) anticipation for the popcorn to "pop."
Snuggling with Daddy.
Munching on popcorn.
Enjoying the "feature presentation"....
Also today, I made my first pumpkin pie. Luke had pumpkin pie at preschool, and the teacher told me he loved it. It so happened that I had just bought ingredients to make my own that same day. It was a hit!
Yesterday, we were at Barnes and Noble killing time while waiting for the train club to open at the mall. Barnes and Noble is always a dangerous place for me financially, and it is even more so now that I have children. I could have easily dropped $100 on books for the kids. But here's the thing: I wouldn't have bought just any books. My kids already have tons of books, and we always have at least fifteen library books lying around. No, I kept falling in love with educational books. Nonfiction. Early history books. Encyclopedias. First dictionaries. Kids' cookbooks. Workbooks. Stuff like that. I finally contented myself with buying them the Amazing Places Children's Encyclopedia. It was cheap, and it had wonderful pictures of places around the world. On the way home, I was eagerly reading about Hiram Bingham and Machu Picchu when Greg asked, "Who was this book for, again?"
Good question. I LOVE to learn about things. I love to learn because I want to know. It is as simple as that. I want to know...everything. I guess I'm just more curious than most people (my mom calls it nosy:)). Awhile back, I was in the doctor's office, and he had National Geographics. I picked one up and rediscovered my immense love for National Geographic. I remembered a time when my family subscribed, and I mentioned it to my mom in a later conversation. She cracked up and told me how the reason they subscribed was because in 5th grade, my class was making Christmas trees out of old National Geographic magazines. At an open house, my mom noticed that I was the only one who didn't have a Christmas tree. When she asked the teacher, the teacher laughed and explained that I got so engrossed in all of the articles that I couldn't bear to fold the pages over to make my tree. Now, that's a nerd right there. But the thing is, I don't get why ALL the kids weren't engrossed with National Geographic. I mean, c'mon. When you see a person with a PLATE in their earlobe, don't you want to know about that? When you see a picture of an amazing palace, or a city with piles of trash as tall as the buildings, or some crazy looking animal you've never seen, don't you want to know about it?
I do. I want to know about everything. I want to know how an engine works and how the human body works and about plants and animals and space and little microscopic things. Unfortunately, I am aware of my limitations, and I have long since realized that mine is not the scientific mind. I always got high grades in science, but I never felt like I knew. Yes, a proton has a positive charge, but what is a charge? And why are protons positive? And why do electrons rotate around the nucleus? Why? I didn't get it. Same with math. I can graph sine and cosine and even pass my AP exam. But what exactly are sine and cosine? Heck if I know!
But I can know about people. And about words. About history and literature and philosophy and psychology. I get that stuff. And so I want to know. But even here I am so, so limited. See, I want to know everything that happened and why. And I want to know every word in the Bible, and I want to know exactly what Jesus meant by everything He said. And I want to why people's minds work the way they do, and I want to know everyone's background story, and I want to know about all the different cultures, and I want to know exactly how our beliefs are formed, and how much of our identities are genetic and how much are determined by environment. And for that matter, I want to know how those statues got on Easter Island, and whether there was a second gunman on the grassy knoll, and what, if anything, is up with the Bermuda Triangle.
And I want to know God. I want to know everything I can about Him, and I want to experience Him to the fullest ability of my being. One thing I've realized lately is that my inborn drive, my insatiable desire to know, know, know makes me long for heaven. Only then will I know the way I want to know. Only then will I have no more questions. I long for heaven not only because I am really hoping that God has a DVD series called, "History of the World," and not only because I can meet so many of the people that I've been wanting to talk to, but because then I will truly, fully know God. "Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
And until then, I will just have to keep being a nerd. Wow. My kids don't have a chance at being cool:).For Mommy and Me this week, we visited the new Waterfront Park, which is located under the "big bridge" in Charleston. It was really cool, and the kids had a great time. (Warning: lots of pictures ahead!)
Driving over the big bridge to get to the park.
Checking out the playground.
Playing....
Eating lunch.
Little Miss Anna has been coming up with complete sentences more and more these days. For instance, she saw a Jeep on the way home from church on Sunday night and announced, "I saw...Daddy's Jeep...Mama." Sweet. Inaccurate, but very sweet.
Then today, we were leaving for Mommy and Me just as Daddy was coming home from working out. He was all sweaty, but he leaned in the car to give the kids a kiss before we left. When he gave Luke a kiss, Anna said, "I need...a kiss...too...Daddy." Precious. Of course, he immediately obliged, but after he gave her a kiss, she looked at him and said, "You shoo, Daddy." Shoo-shoo means stinky. Greg said, "I'm stinky?" "Yeah," was the emphatic response:).
Last night, Greg was rocking her as I was reading to Luke. He sang "Jesus Loves Me," to her and then before he laid her down, he asked, "Anna, who do you love?" To his surprise, she immediately responded, "Jesus." Greg said, "Yes, Jesus is the most important person to love, but who else do you love?" To which she responded, "Daddy." And Greg said, "That's right. Daddy is the second most important person to love."
Hmph:).
He asked her again today when we stopped by the church building to see him on the way home. Again she responded, "Jesus." Only this time, she just kept saying Jesus and wouldn't add anyone else to the list. When Greg kept pressing, she busted out with, "Jesus...is...good, Daddy." Wow. She got him there:).
Not to be out done, on the way to the church building, Luke pointed out a Scion that was painted completely plaid. All pastel colors, with a bright, shiny rainbow decal that ran the length of the windshield. I cracked up at the ridiculous car and thanked Luke for pointing it out. I said, "That sure is a funny car!" And he responded gleefully, "Yep, that car sure is funny! God could have just painted it yellow! But God painted it NOT JUST YELLOW...He painted it EVERY COLOR!" I decided not to go into the fact that God cannot be blamed in anyway for painting a Scion plaid:).This morning, after he ate breakfast, Luke announced that he was all done. "Do you want any more?" I asked. "No, mommy, I'm full. My tummy has LOTS of good food in it."
Hearing those words, a wave of thankfulness washed over me. I was thankful that my child's tummy was filled with good food, and that God allowed us the means to provide good food for our children. It started me thinking...
Anna had a horrible sleep night last night, when she was up for hours. I recently read some of my older blogs about Luke's sleep issues as a baby, and it made me so thankful that sleep issues are an aberration these days. I tend to forget how maddening sleep deprivation is. I'm thankful that it is generally a distant memory.
I'm also thankful that I have a wonderful husband who stayed up with Anna and let me sleep. This, after he got home from church at 10:00 pm and voluntarily washed, dried, and put away all the dishes I had left in the sink. I was exhausted after long day with the kids and had collapsed in bed at 9:30, determined to tackle the dishes first thing in the morning. Turns out, I didn't have to. I am thankful, very thankful, that I have a husband who truly seeks to love me as Christ loves the church. He amazes me.
I am also thankful that our life situation allows us (Anna and Greg, in this case) to sleep in and recover after nights of little sleep. I am so glad that I am blessed to be a stay-at-home-mom, and that I didn't have to shuttle my exhausted daughter out the door early this morning. She slept until 9:00, and then had a great morning. And even though Greg is gone most nights and weekends these days, I'm very thankful that the school-year youth ministry life allows him to sleep in later, too, when need be, and even get to go to the gym before work. I am thankful that he has a job he loves and one that even fits his night-owl nature. I know I couldn't be the one having kids im'ing me at 1:30 am, but he does great with it.
I'm thankful that Anna is talking more and more each day. There is nothing more precious on earth than having her greet me first thing in the morning with her adorable, "Mornin', Sunshine!" Greg even has it recorded on his cell phone for when he just needs to hear her voice.
I'm thankful for the authors of moneysavingmom.com and southernsavers.com, who have helped our family save so much money. I am thankful that I just got $96.68 worth of groceries for $36.19. That never gets old, especially after we blew our grocery budget sky-high last month.
I'm thankful we can blow our grocery budget sky-high sometimes and still be okay. I'm thankful that I heard Dave Ramsey's philosophies early in life, and that the value of an emergency fund and 3-6 months income in savings have been firmly ingrained in me.
Wow, once I get started, I could go on all day. I have so much more to be thankful for. I'm so thankful for my parents and Greg's parents, who have both given us so much. For our house, which is everything I've ever dreamed of in a house. For our church, for where we live, for our educations...it goes on and on. God is so good. He would be good even if He didn't give me any of those things I've just listed. But I'm so thankful that He did.Do you remember those commercials about refrigerated cookie dough, where baking refrigerated cookies was billed as quality family time? Like, these little kids would be visiting their grandmother, and the grandmother would lovingly take out the refrigerated dough from the fridge, and they would all "make memories" by laying the dough on the cookie sheets and then baking them? And, how, watching those commercials, you would laugh your head off and be a little sad at the same time that putting dough on baking sheets would qualify as family time? Or for that matter, as "baking cookies"?
Just me? Oh well.
Well, that said, welcome to our "family time" today:
Yeah, baby. Buy one, get one free at Publix this week, and I had dollar off q's:). Plus, it was a rainy day, and we needed something to eat while we read library books.
Waiting for them to bake:
Luke and I ate and read, but we put Anna in her chair. Afterwards, she gave us the classic "hands" face. She hates dirty hands.
Wasn't that a nice story? And these aren't even my Project 365 pics for the day. This, friends, is going to be the most well-documented year of my life:).
This morning, Luke and I were talking about our upcoming trip to the library. Every library trip is an adventure with us trying to keep up with Anna in between randomly perusing the shelves to find train books. I've looked up books ahead of time, but mostly, we just wander haphazardly from shelf to shelf in the kids' section.
I told Luke we were going to get some more train books today, and he immediately suggested Good Night Train, which we have checked out in the past. I told him we'd look it up on the computer to see if the library has it. As we walked to the computer, Luke volunteered, "It's on the same shelf as Where the Wild Things Are." Really? I have NO IDEA where any of our train books are located. The chaos of a library trip cannot be understated.
But I knew that Where the Wild Things Are is written by Maurice Sendak, and that the children's books are alphabetized by author. So we looked up Good Night Train. It was written by Lee Sobel. Yep.
I looked it up on Project 365. We checked out Where the Wild Things Are (and, presumably, Good Night Train) on August 26. It is October 5.
Luke's memory amazes me. The little things he can recall are just baffling.