Where the Wild Things Are

WELCOME SITSTAS!! I’m so stinkin’ happy for you to drop by here today! If there were a video camera recording me you’d see me floating on cloud 9…or at least doing the PeeWee Herman. I can’t wait to visit each of you and leave you some luvin’. I’m sure my hubby and girls are thrilled about the sleep I’m bound to lose making friends with every single one of you. Enjoy your time here, make yourself at home, steal some buttons if you’d like. Now, on with the show!

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Tonight was Reagan’s AWANA award ceremony. She completed her first year as a Spark and was getting an award for completing her book and completing the review section as well. Needless to say I was so proud of her. Being the good mom that I am, and a bit neurotic about people getting in the way of my camera’s viewfinder, I dutifully found a seat on the second row to be in good video taking position.

Why the second row you ask? Why not the first row where I’d be guaranteed that nobody’s big head would be in any of my way? One word. And I’m sure you could guess it if I didn’t even type it–Ashlyn. I had an eerie feeling that she would be joining us for the night’s activities. After entering the apex and finding my seat I ran desperately made my way quickly, but carefully to the director to ask about childcare, who I’m sure was busy preparing for the ceremony that was about to take place, but let’s face it, finding suitable arrangements for Ashlyn takes precedence over all, because if she ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

To my disappointment childcare was only available tonight for the AWANA workers, because otherwise the nursery workers would be swamped. I wanted to plead with her: “you realize who I’m holding in my arms, right? The kid who can ruin a whole awards ceremony because she won’t shut up, right? Because I am not leaving the room right at the pivotal moment when Reagan is going up to receive her award.” I even thought about usurping power and heading over to the nursery and pleading my case there: “you guys know what she’s like! You have her every Sunday and Wednesday! You know what she’s like! Please! Don’t make me embarrass myself in front of all of Reagan’s friends’ parents! It can be our little secret…”

Instead I hung my head and went back to my second row seat. Which brings me back to why I chose the second row. Since I was stuck with Ashlyn I wanted to be able to put her down on the floor to play during the evening. If I were to sit in the front row she’d either 1) crawl all around and in and out of everyone’s feet that was giving away the awards. And all those snot-nosed….lovely children who were bounding up to get their awards wouldn’t see her and would step on her or knock her over. OR 2) She’d get freaked out at how close we were to actual humans who were moving around and would begin shrieking and clinging to me not caring if she were pulling down my shirt.

How would the evening turn out? I could only hold my breath and wait minute by minute to see. Everything went well at first. After a period of getting used to being not at home, Ashlyn happily played on the floor with a happy meal toy that I thankfully had not thrown away yet (my term, btw, for this stuff is “landfill crap”. That’s all it ends up being. And we continue to buy tons of plastic landfill crap from China, that’s probably full of lead and poison…but I let her play with it all the same. She’s not a “mouther”. Desperate times as the saying goes). They showed pictures of all the kids being honored up on the screen and played rockin’ music. Ashlyn liked this and demanded to be on my lap to be able to see the screen better.

The cool multimedia presentation quickly ended and the ceremony got underway. This was Ashlyn’s cue to begin mimicking a kangaroo on crack. No longer was she happy to sit quietly on the floor playing with what could honestly be the slow death of America. She needed to be on my lap. standing. bouncing. punching me in the face. head butting me. playing peek-a-boo with the program with my eyes, not hers. giving me facial paper cuts with said program. arching her back to see how quick my reflexes were. making some type of squealing noise that kangaroos must make when they’re on crack when she realized her sippy was on the floor well out of reach. demanding to play with hundreds of dollars worth of camera and video camera. flirting with a man ten rows back.

How in the world did I even know it was Reagan’s turn to receive her award? A mother knows these things. This is where my superpowers come into play. I never know when they’ll kick in, but tonight God showed me grace and I was able to:

  • hold crack-kangaroo with one arm
  • turn on digital camera with hand of other arm
  • turn on video camera with hand of other arm
  • make split second decision to use video camera instead of still camera because I can get a still shot from the video footage and there’d be no way, even with my superpowers at work, to take a video and then actually have Reagan stand up there long enough for me to put that down and then pick up the digital camera and still have her smiling for a picture. Who cares about the other kid who’s name has already been called after her.
  • actually correctly work video camera with non-dominant hand AND turn the switch from video mode to still-picture mode to get a couple of shots, with her smiling. I guess those super powers did work after all.

Ashlyn could sense that I had one-upped her. Because until now she had at least been somewhat quiet. Except for a couple of outbursts no one had heard a peep from her. They just saw her head bobbing every which way. Now though, that I had pulled off the video without a hitch she kicked her defiance up a notch. I do have to admit here that she was probably getting tired. I’ve written before that we can tell when she’s about to crash into a sleepy coma–she becomes spastic. The kangaroo motions didn’t stop. The whining started. Fortunately for me, and everyone in that room, the ceremony was coming to an end. The commander’s husband stood up to say the final prayer and Ashlyn decided that she’d drown that out. By this time I was at the back of the room bouncing her and shh, shh, shhing her as much as I could without drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. Short prayers definitely have their time and place and this was definitely one of them.

We made it out of there award in hand, dignity in hand (I think), and sanity in tact (for the most part). I’m so thankful that Reagan couldn’t care less about the actions of her little sister. I can only imagine how embarrassment is going to start rearing it’s head as the years march on. Perhaps by then we will have figured out a way to tame the wild beast that is her younger sister.

  

What about these clothes looks good?

Am I losing it? What about these clothes looks good?

I’m providing the captions that went with them so you can cringe along with me.

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“When life starts feeling like a bunch of short stories intertwined, make sure you dress the part — you never know whom you’ll run into. Look your best in fashions from ****** “. I’m leaving the shop name out to protect their reputation. Perhaps their other clothes are…oh, what’s the word…cute.

 

People, these shorts are nothing more than an external girdle. The vertical lines running down the front of them prove it. What’s worse is they’re longer above the crotch than below. They’re your grandma’s daisy dukes.

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“High school reunions, hometown meet-ups; no matter the situation, you’ll leave a lasting impression in garb from *******. Your new hairstyle doesn’t hurt — nor does the 25% site-wide deal.”

I’d sayyou’ll leave an everlasting impression…but is it the kind you really want to leave? This evokes mental pictures of psych wards. Wha!?!?!? High school reunions?!?! Hometown meet-ups?!?! This lady is wearing some post-birth hospital top. And you want us to wear that to a high school reunion? When we’re trying to impress people we haven’t seen in a bazillion years and we actually don’t want to look frumpy? What?!?! I can’t get over this.

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People, please tell me you don’t go out and buy everything that is considered to be the next big thing do you?

Remember the white jumpsuit, stone-washed jeans and paper bag dress I blogged about? Put these right along with those as PLEASE DON’T! WHATEVER YOU FEEL ABOUT FASHION AND WHAT MAY BE IN STYLE…PLEASE DON’T!

These images come from the latest edition of Daily Candy. I get Daily Candyeveryday in my inbox and it’s fun to see what they’re touting everyday as the “it” clothes, book, food, jewelry, travel destination, what have you. I even found this cool Pirolette from Turn Your Head from Daily Candy (you’ll even see Reagan’s profile on the site if you look around). They missed the mark this time, y’all and I could not resist bringing to you a little clothing humor to lighten your day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Train Up A Child… (Should we teach our children to fake drink?)

I read the blog, Teens Today With Vanessa VanPetten. The topics she writes on are pretty interesting and as a parent you can’t stay too informed.

Today her post was Teaching Your Teen How To Drink. Obviously that title is meant to draw your attention. And maybe shock you for a second or two. She proceeds to give you pointers on how to teach your kids to pretend they’re drinking so they really don’t have to when they’re at a party…where there’s drinking, obviously. Please read it so you will know what I’m talking about. Also read the comment that I left and the response from Vanessa…and my response back. LOL

As a Christian parent I was shocked that she was giving this advice. One of our jobs as parents, whether Christian or not, is to teach our children morals, integrity and to do what’s right. My mantra is: it all comes back to the family. You must set up a strong family relationship while they’re young so they’ll still listen to you when they get older. I have to believe that will happen. It’s a biblical promise. Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it” How old is old? Does this mean when they are teenagers? It’s child-dependent, I’m sure.

As wrong as this advice immediately felt to me I could see both sides of the argument. I mean, if your kids are going to these parties you might as well equip them with tools to help them make it through alive. Right? If you trust your teen to do the right thing during these situations then you should help them through it. Right? It still just feels wrong. This is assuming it is ok for your kids to be hanging around this behavior. It’s also implying that you somewhat condone the behavior or at least accept that it’s going to happen no matter what.

But shouldn’t we be teaching our children that this behavior is wrong and that they shouldn’t want to be around it? Proverbs 23:20 says, “Do not join those who drink too much wine or gorge themselves on meat.” If we’re teaching our children to love God, to try to be more like Him, and to try to live like Him then we’ll also be teaching them to desire what God desires, to want what He wants and to live the way He would have us live. Do you honestly think God wants our children at drinking parties?

On the other hand, the Bible also says we are to be salt and light to the world (Matthew 5:13-16). And Paul says that he was made all things to all men that he might save some (1 Corinthians 9:22). So are we to train up our children to be the salt and light at a party so they might save some of their friends or at least be a good influence on them? Not really. You will have to judge for yourself how strong your child is. For most kids it’s much easier to be influenced badly than to be the one influencing for good. I wouldn’t want to allow my child to be in a situation they weren’t mature enough to handle. Vanessa, in her article, is basically telling us to teach our kids that it’s ok not be a good influence, just don’t be influenced badly. She wants our kids to hide the fact that they’re not drinking. So basically, to hide the good influence that they could be.

Let’s think about the lying aspect of the situation. “Thou shalt not lie.” It’s one of the big ten. We are to teach our children to have integrity. The definition of integrity, according to dictionary.com is “adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.” If we are teaching our kids how to pretend to drink we’re teaching them how to lie around their friends. We’re teaching our children that it’s ok to pretend to be someone they’re not. What, in any way, is good about this?

Deu 6:4-9  

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
 

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.
 

These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts.
 

Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.
  

Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.
  

Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

This is how we should be teaching and talking to our children. Talking to them about God and His ways constantly, in whatever situation we’re in. Not teaching them how to be compromisers.

The reason I struggle with this at all is because I have two children who are still very young. I don’t have teenagers. I’ve still got years to teach them Godly morals, biblical principles and integrity. I pray that they will never want to be in this kind of situation. But I don’t know that will happen. Will I need to use this tactic if all my training isn’t coming to fruition yet? I believe the Bible, so I believe that if I train them up correctly they will end up following my teaching. However they may not decide to follow that path while they are teenagers. All I can do is do my best to be a Godly example to them right now; be a mother who they look up to and who they want to emulate; be an influence for good, no, for the best, not for mediocrity. And pray like mad everyday.

What do you think? Are we leading our children to be mediocre at best if we teach them it’s ok to lie around their friends just to be liked? Is God pleased with this type of parenting? What are parents to do if they didn’t begin training their children while the children were young?

 

Ode to my mom

Weeks back there was a contest on a blog I read to write a Haiku about your mother. I thought long and hard and this is what I came up with:

We’re a lot alike
Cleaning anything with spit
Spitting images

I can’t believe I didn’t win.

For the record, I lied. But I thought it was funny and rather clever. Spit cleaning is something I didn’t inherit from my mother. I don’t clean anythingwith spit. People who know me know that spit is about the grossest thing to me in the world. Worse than poop-filled diapers. Worse than vomit. I gag when I see drool coming out of a child’s mouth. I remember times when the ole thumb licking would happen. Can’t remember any exact instances, but I remember the sensation. Getting ready to go somewhere, obviously important, and having a smudge of something on my face. That smudge had to go. The tongue would lick the thumb and then proceed to wipe the top layer of skin off my face. It’s a time-honored tradition that I will not be passing down.

The cleverness, however, is something I directly attribute to my mother. It’s a Rinehardt thing. I got her sense of humor and joie de vivre and am enjoying passing those down to my girls. Whenever the Rinehardts get together it’s a free-for-all of laughs and witty remarks. There’s nothing in life that they can’t take and find some bit of humor out of. I cherish inheriting that from Mom. Life is so much more easier to handle when you can put it in perspective.

So, thank you, Mom for passing down to me your wit. Oh, and your looks because people do always say we look alike. In that way we are spitting images. 

Feb 2007

OH! Props to Heather who comes up with haikus almost every Friday. It’s hard. Rock on. 

Mother’s Day Present, Continued

What I got this year for Mother’s Day was better than what I had  thought I might like. I was thinking I might get a massage. Breakfast in bed. A night at a fancy hotel all by myself with room service free movies and no alarm clocks or screaming hungry kids to wake me up. BUT what I got was even better than that. I got…

a normal, decent, uneventful night out at a restaurant with Ashlyn in tow.

This miraculous act of service from her is the best Mother’s Day gift I could have ever received this year. As I’ve written before Ashlyn is somewhat challenging out it public when we’re trying not to embarrass ourselves. You know, when we’re trying not to get kicked out of a place and told never to return again. We have feared this and I’m sure have come close. And why we still take her out, risking reputation and sanity, I sometimes wonder.

Last night was one of those times though where going out, even to McDonald’s, seemed better than having to cook food at home. We rushed out the door with the sippie and Cheerios hoping that the bushel of strawberries she had just eaten would tide her over through whatever meal we were about to eat. We were heading to a restaurant that we hadn’t been to since we moved here. With the promise of new management and a new menu we thought we’d try our luck with both the food and the child.

Upon entering the establishment we realized there would be a wait. I had to decide right then and there whether I would begin panicking. NO! She can sensepanic and plays on it. Keeping our calm we wait patiently. There was only one instance when Ashlyn tried to pick a fight with the suit of armor in the waiting area (why there’s a suit of armor in a Mexican restaurant is beyond my comprehension). She pulled the sign out of his hands that said “Please wait to be seated”. She showed him what she thought about that rule. The only other interesting thing was a bunch of David Cook (American Idol contestant) fans coming in. Apparently he’s from around this area. They had shirts on and I think they worked at the school he used to go to. Apparently he got the key to Kansas City and will throw the ball out on Monday night. Maybe the Royals will win.

Dinner was otherwise uneventful. Un. Eventful. Other than the fact that Ashlyn couldn’t get enough of the salsa. Fortunately for all of us she liked the beans and rice on my plate too. We saved lots of face. There was a couple sitting next to us we met while doing a craft show back in March. I guess it really doesn’t matter what they think of us, but she sure wouldn’t be willing to buy cute baby things from a mom who can’t control her cute baby.

My Mother’s Day present didn’t end there. Ashlyn even behaved herself at Hastings while we browsed to our heart’s content. I read up on storage space in the craft room and Photoshop Elements 6 for Dummies (I’m getting ready to do me some digital scrapbooking y’all!). Du pushed Ashlyn in the stroller so she wouldn’t turn evil and Reagan looked through the princess book section. We did let Ashlyn out of her restraining device stroller for a little while. She proceeded to pull random books off the lowest shelf and then sit right there on the floor pretending to read them. I think one of them was a self-help book. We’re starting her young.

All this happened Friday night. The love and service continued through Saturday. Du took Reagan to the practice for their Daddy-daughter dance and then to Lowes for their Build & Grow Clinic (where kids can build something in-store every other Saturday). We met for lunch and then he took both girls while I got to go back home by myself (by myself) to do whatever I wanted. Did I mention I was by myself?

The sweetness began when they got home. For some reason Reagan wanted to give me her present early. So I closed my eyes and held out my hands. This is what she gave me:

 

She picked it out herself. And the sweetest part is that the bigger heart represents me and the smaller heart represents her. She’s thoughtful like that.

So this extended Mother’s Day ended up being the best of both worlds. I was on the receiving end of some acts of loving service (thank you to Du who spends much mental brainpower on thinking things up always surprise me) and some gifts full of heart (har har).

Our pastor started a series on parenting this morning and he reminded us of our biggest goal as parents. It’s not to make sure our children are well-behaved, have the neatest toys or are successful and rich. Our main goal as parents is to make sure that they end up with us in Heaven. One down, one to go. It sure makes the daunting task of parenthood seem a little bit more manageable.

On this Mother’s Day I couldn’t be prouder of the two reasons why I’m a mother. Reagan is such a big girl who loves life and everyone she meets. She’s the most conscientious six year old I know, which comes in handy when you have a younger sister you’ve got to play with and love on. And Ashlyn, as much as I like to write about her, ahem, spirited attitude she really is a special girl. As active as she is she loves to cuddle and I’m her favorite cuddle partner. As much as I enjoy my time alone, when that does happen, I wouldn’t trade the life that I have with these two girls. Until about 17 years from now when Ashlyn goes off to school and we can be empty-nesters. I’ll have put in my time by then right?

This morning right before Sunday School. Ashlyn was making sure the workers were going to earn their money…or quit volunteering all together. Reagan was sweetly putting up with it. I love them both so much.

My Mother’s Day Present

I’m not too picky when it comes to Mother’s Day presents. Gifts don’t matter to me as much as service does around this time of year. I must say though that last year a gift mattered a whole lot and I went so far as to aggressively hint to Du about what I wanted.

I opened up the Red Envelope catalog to the proper page, circled the two necklaces I would accept as peace offerings for just having had child number two who was way different than child number one. I placed this strategically in Du’s inbox because that’s how we communicate with each other, through inboxes of the physical and electronic kind. The next day the magazine was laying in my inbox. Opened to that page. With two necklaces circled on it. So I put it back in his inbox. The next day it was back in my inbox.

Realizing that subtle hints weren’t going to work I took the magazine upstairs, threw it down on his lap (gently, don’t picture me ticked off…yet), said, “hint, hint” and walked away. Fortunately these shenanigans happened far enough in advance that this was waiting for me on Mother’s Day:

 (Mine has two stones: an amethyst and a garnet.)

“Why honey! How did you ever guess?!?! And the stones are the correct color and in the correct order!!”

I digress though traveling down that memory lane. I wanted to write about this year’s Mother’s Day present. I was saying that gifts aren’t as important to me this year as would be an act of service. I was thinking I might get a massage. Breakfast in bed. A night at a fancy hotel all by myself with room service free movies and no alarm clocks or screaming hungry kids to wake me up. BUT what I got was even better than that. I got…

I hate to do this to you, but this post is getting way too long! Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.