Elsa

Ok, so what else could a mother of 4 need? Why not a new puppy? And better yet, it was my idea! Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I am a dog fanatic. Ok, so not little dogs--and not cats...me hates some cats--but a good sized dog with a bark scary enough to validate me not buying the home security system.

During our first year of marriage, Steve and I had our first baby...a 4-legged Great Dane named Tess. Obviously I forgave Tess all her puppydom because I keep saying, gee I don't remember Tess doing that.

Elsa is a full breed fawn Great Dane. (Think Marmaduke.)She was 7 weeks old when we brought her home from Kentucky. Yes, she's a blue-grass baby. At 8 weeks of age, she's chomping her milk teeth into everything in sight. She's smart as the dickens and a little bit dominant...which will have to be tempered.

So our first Monday together, Steve's out of town, Olivia misses the bus and James Henry is screaming about every little thing. Can I complain, ya I guess so...but it's my own fault. I wanted a dog. So I need to want all the fun that comes with a dog. Poop/pee on the floor, chewed on shoes, and screaming chewed on kids!

High museum wine auction finale

Yum yum yum, wine on a Saturday night. Well, at $1O0 bucks a ticket you'd have thought the wine might have been better! Austin hope/Treana vineyards were the "hosts" of the evening & everything they poured was wonderful. Bravo to them. As for the rest, not much stood out. A lovely reserve from Alexander Valley
Vineyards...and a funky blend from eagle eye (?)I'm not sure about the vineyard--its here somewhere.

How nice to dress like grown ups and go out among peers for a night out. Only, our "peers" seem to have nothing in common with us. We, Steve and I, both felt a little like outsiders at what could have been a great ball. Oh well...nothing new when you're the parents all the time.

I wore black theory jeans with a great looking burberry white blouse. High heeled black patened shoes...opera length pearls hiding just beneath my open necked top...hot baby! Hot pink patened clutch purse to round it out. Steve was dressed pretty casual compared to the crowd, but he was comfortable. It was fun. We're not trendy--we're just us.

The band at the event was great, and a few of the restaurants there were visiting--several proved that not going there would only save me money. The corp. sponsor was Skirt magazine which I keep threatening to send articles in to. It would have been fun to meet some of the folks from that pub tonight, but the cards didn't have it.

All in all, we left the event early...maybe the problem was that we got to the event too early...? who knows. Our sitter was more then happy to get home and "get more sleep". She got a zune out of it...we're bartering baby sitting for an MP3 player...need vs need, everyone wins!

Tucked in early on a Saturday night? I hope not, surely these black hanky pankies will score me something!

This year, Easter Bites

Good grief. First of all, to me, Easter is about family, it's about a big beautiful meal with children in new clothes--pictures, and a smile for all. Well...my Easter turned sour around 12:45pm. This morning, I had everyone's clothes ironned and ready to go--Steve was up and out the door for ushering & money collecting at church. This left me with the task of preparing 4 kids...well, 3 really because Matt can take care of himself...getting myself cleanned up and off to church ON TIME because only the early bird gets a seat at AFUMC on Easter Sunday!


Mission accomplished. Everyone was there w/ their beautiful clothes and smiles and we got our photo. yes! Service went fairly smoothly--okay, as smoothly as any service with a 4 year-old ad 7 year-old in attendance!

We all piled back into 2 cars and headed for the house. Everyone inside, we decided to head out the front door for photos in front of the blooming Magnolia tree. A Jane Magnolia to be exact, and one of the only things in bloom! Steve opened the frot door and--whoops! James Henry somehow slipped and rammed into the opened front door splitting his left ear open.

Yes, of course, it needed stiches. Geez when in our world does it not need stiches!?! So I spent the next 4 hours at Children's healthcare of Atlanta! Between the urgent care visit where I was told it needed to be seen by plastics, to the platics resident at the hospital emergency room saying the first guy should have taken care of this! Who's to say!...

And by the time I got back to our home, it was time to cook the supper I was meant to cook for lunch! So I dutily went to work prepping and planning to slavage the remainder of the day.

At 6:15 or so I had the dinner on the table. Steak, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, steamed asperagus, green bean casserole, with deviled eggs, olives, pickled okra and cocktail shrimp...YUM! About 10 minutes into the meal, James Henry errupted all over Steve (ie emptied stomach at dining room table) due to nausea from his anesthetic at the ER. Steve and I just decided we were through attempting to eat. I cancelled the photographer who was suppossed to come the next day to take family pictures. Wouldn't that have been pretty! We put away the food, jammied up the kids and tried not to kill the woosey yet screaming at the top of his lungs 2 year-old.

I finally turned to Steve and sang, "why don't we get drunk..." and he finished the Jimmy Buffet song!

What a day...No amount of Cadbury eggs is gonna make up for this one!

Last Minute Stitches

For some of us, the joys of parenthood never end. For some of us, we have a child in the family, usually just one, who pushes past all boundaries and takes all risks. In my house, that's Sam.

Sam-I-am is something else. At four years of age, he's 35 pounds of solid muscle. Seemingly indestructible, there are moments when everything goes wrong for him. Tonight was one of those moments.

At 8:00pm , which is 30minutes to an hour too late, Sam, James Henry and Olivia were in my shower in the master bathroom. Sam and his sister were fighting and their father pulled Sam out of the shower until Olivia finished. Instead of staying on the bathmat where his father put him, he ran naked into our bedroom and jumped head first (for the 100th time) into the decor pillows from our bed which were on the floor. Of course, he didn't hit the pillows, he went head first into the table beyond the pillows.

Seeing his head wound gaping open and bleeding, it only took a second to know we had to have it stitched closed. Steve and I loaded up the entire gang in their pajamas and drove as fast as possible to the Children's Hospital Urgent care. They close at 9pm and we signed in at 8:35. From the time we arrived until the time we left at 10:45, I heard two ambulances pull up to the facility. TWO. Crazy. I felt so sorry for the staff--because there's no way this had been a normal night if two ambulances had been called for transfer.

So other than waiting forever and a day, Sam was a real trooper. He laid so still to get his stitches, I've never seen him be so cooperative with ANYthing. He now has 3 stitches along his cheek bone under his right eye.

Good grief. You know there are mothers of boys and there are mothers of girls. All 3 of my boys have proven themselves to be capable of anything. This is Sam's 2nd set of stitches. He's also had his stomach pumped. (that's a story I'd love to forget!) I dare not ask the question, 'What's next'...for fear of the answer!

Body Image...

For women, body image is something we all continue to struggle with. Am I too thick or too thin? Am I too tall or too short? Does my butt look good in these jeans? How thick is my waist?

We see the beauty in everyone else and yet find every single teensy weensy flaw within ourselves.

The honest truth:
I've always hated my nose, my boobs are WAY too big now, the skin on my stomach is disgusting after 4 kids, and I dye my hair to cover the white.

I am lucky enough to work with teenagers at my church and am always reminded of how beautiful they are. Their bodies are strong and lean. They're 16 & 17 years old and really entering the prime of their beauty. I see this because I'm 35 and can look back at how adorable I was in that time frame--how everything was firm and sitting in the right place. But just as I did, they don't see their true selves when they look in the mirror...they look for what they think is missing.

There are truly very few Barbie dolls among us. We're not perfect, and Lord knows after a few kiddos we're no where near the gals we once were! But Psalm 139 says : ...I am fearfully and wonderfully made". How quickly we forget that God knows all our flaws and yet embraces us as beautiful, complete creatures. God craves our focus and wants to give us inner peace.

In God's mirror we are all wonderfully made. How can we look in our mirrors here on Earth and focus in on the beauty HE's created!

James Taylor is cool, baby...

Ok, so how does an old hippie who has lost his hair and lost his love beads still hold the attention of audiences beyond his original fan base? The 70s are gone...although if you look at fashion you know they're gone but not forgotten! I'm watching this PBS special where James Taylor has gone back to his home "area", I'm blanking on the state--but he's back in the region where he's from singing old songs and new songs--and I'm completely drawn in by his music.



Ya, I'm 35...and I really like James Taylor's music. Does that mean I'm completely out dated? I don't think so. I remember the first time I listened to James Taylor's music. I was 23ish, and had gone to the beach with I'm guessing 20-30 other college kids. We'd played and drank our way through the day and were now going to hang out on the beach with a bonfire. Greg Wilson, who had a bitchin jeep, pulled said jeep onto the beach and began playing music. I remember him suggesting James Taylor and me going NO Way. Mainly because I thought he was just boring and out of date and why would any of us way too cool kids want to listen to that. But, I was shushed...and we listened to James Taylor.



For me, it was the first time I'd really heard James Taylor's music. It was soothing. It played against the rhythms of the waves crashing in the distance. It was mellow, and it truly summed up the evening perfectly. It's funny how music ties us to events in our lives.



When I was in delivery for my 4th (and final) child, I still hadn't picked a name. The only reason I mention this is because I had every child previously named far in advance of their arrival on this earth! But this baby was different. I knew it was a boy...but I had no idea what I was going to call him. I had a list of at least 10 names going into labor...and had no idea who would come out on top. During my labor with him, I found myself drawn to the James Taylor's greatest hits album. It's fun, calm, easy...just what I was looking for. My ipod played, Steve did email--a completely different subject for another day--and we waited for the arrival of this baby boy. Over and over again I listened to Sweet Baby James...and knew if he looked like one, his name would be James.



My 4th child, my 3rd son is named James Henry Nash. James Henry Martin was my great-grandfather, the father of my grandmother Nada Lee Martin Wilkins who I look so much like. She passed away before this baby was born. I miss her constantly. But a little of them both lives on in my James Henry.



When I hear Sweet baby James I think of them all, my great-grandfather who was a West Texas Sheriff, my grandmother who grew up in the great depression in West Texas, and my son who will never meet the ones he carries forth from history. WE keep the history alive; each and every day.



James Taylor can keep rockin'....

Hold your breath, and count to 10

I remember back in Elementary school--when I was sent to the office--ya, big surprise--the Principal Mrs. Blair would always say the same thing to me. "Lynne, when you begin to loose your temper, just take a deep breath and count to ten". In some universe holding your breath and counting to ten is going to some how make you not want to kill the person standing in front of you!

OK, so no disrespect to Mrs. Blair, because she's a really lovely woman...but I'm now 35 years old and STILL can't hold my breath and count to ten when I'm angry. My kids drive me crazy. The #1 culprit in my house is the 4 year-old Sam. He could drive the most devout honest living southern baptist to drink!

I've started trying to use a technique where if you hear your voice starting to get louder (ie insert the word yelling here)...you start talking softer until the child realizes they can no longer hear you. Tonight it took over 10 minutes for my little man to catch a clue! He's crazy...and yet, very wily. He seems to have a biological response that when I'm getting ready to kill him he needs to pull out the big guns. "Mommy you're beautiful." "Mommy, I love you." "Mommy you're the best mommy in the world."

And all I want to scream is 'can it kid, I live here and I still know what you just did to your little brother'.

Maybe I'll feel better after writing all of this down, or maybe I'll feel better if I have a nice, big glass of wine and head upstairs to watch the Project Runway finale. Red wine and fashion--now there's a deadly combination.

I'm gettin' too old for this stuff

So I spent the weekend in the North Georgia mountains with a group of 28 Senior High youth. They were great, fun, chatty, all-in-all some great times were had. Paint ball was a new experience for yours truly, and I must say I was glad my husband knew what I was up to.

I have 8 dark beautiful bruises courtesy of those sweet darling children! And by the way, when the paint balls hit you but don't pop...it REALLY hurts. The others just sting...and my two cents on the whole thing is that it's just rather masochistic! I mean, your hiding behind a blow up "X" aiming for another persons head while someone else is shooting you...all the while knowing you spent $$ to experience this fun. Ya, don't know if I'll be going back. I was terrible! The kids all wanted me on their teams to draw fire and take the hit so they could move further through the field! Good strategy if you ask me...But hard on an old lady.

The other item of the weekend which about did me in was the food. Now if you know anything about teenagers, you have to know that they're always hungry. Even when they're not hungry, they're hungry. So to maintain good graces with all I arrived at the retreat with a bag full of junk. M&Ms, full size candy bars, sour patch kids, twizzlers, bag of pretzels, bag of Frito's and bean dip. Mind you--this made the kids very happy--which is what it was intended to do. However, putting this stuff down my throat only made for a sore tummy! And who's to blame for that?...ya, me. I just seem to somehow forget sometimes that my 35 year-old metabolism isn't cut out for junk like that any more.

The one thing I'm always reminded of after a weekend like this is that these kids are right on the verge of independence. Several of them will be in college in just a few months. These kids are the future of our country...and without sounding quite so melodramatic...they're doing great. They have so much to offer and they're thinking about more than just what's coming up the next weekend. (ya, they think about all that stuff too), but it just seems sometimes like this group I've been working with is handling so much more pressure so much earlier than I did. I'm really proud of them.