BEWARE OF THE AFRICAN GIRAFFE!

I had a very productive morning yesterday. My house was relatively tidy and the boys were doing their schoolwork. I had started working on the Christmas Program (I am the Children's Choir Director) and was practicing some songs I hope to be able to play by Christmas. By 11:00, the boys had eaten lunch (we get up absurdly early at my house) and finished up language, reading, and a small study on Vincent Van Gogh. I told them to take a break and I went to clean up after Felix. He had taken all the books off the bottom bookshelf. He's such a big helper. I plopped my fanny down and went to work, him handing me a book and me putting it back on the shelf. I had to hold up the books already on the shelf to put more on and so I continued to add and move books. All of a sudden - BONK - and I was holding my head in pain and looking around for whatever thing I was about to hurl into oblivion. Ah, the wooden giraffe Missy brought back for the boys from Africa. Can't hurl that into oblivion. Besides, Felix was already holding it saying "No, no giraffe!". Corin was watching me lie on the floor holding my head and screaming "Mama, what should I do? I should tell Mr. Clayton! I should call 911! Mama is this an emergency? Mama!". Woah. What happened? Did I really get knocked in the head by a wooden giraffe? Should it really hurt this bad? I told Corin to just "be still and let me think". Yeah, think about the last time I got a concussion.

Embarrassingly, this is my second concussion within a year. Last Winter, I was changing the sheets (cursed sheets) on the boys' bunkbeds upstairs and knocked myself UNCONSCIOUS by slamming my head on the ladder. I passed out several times and don't remember chunks of the morning. I called Quinn, who was out of town for the day, to ask for instruction (I knew something was the matter because of the huge bump off my eyebrow and the fact that I kept drifting off to sleep) and promptly forgot what he told me as soon as I got off the phone. Gladly, he knew I was incoherent and called Ginger Donahoo to check on me. She called and Corin told her I was asleep on the kitchen floor. I think that I was on the phone with Missy at some point in the morning. It is still a little blurry. Ginger came over and dressed me (oh yeah, still in pjs) and took me to the doctor. I slept for two days and had blurred vision for about a week.

So now I'm sitting on my living room floor, checking for blood, and wondering what should I do. I knew, from my last unfortunate experience, that soon I would probably be feeling dizzy. I finished putting the books on the shelves and loaded the lunch dishes in the dishwasher. Now what? Quinn was in seminary classes in Atlanta and I did not want him to worry. I called Crissy hoping that her husband would be with her (he's a respiratory therapist). No answer on her cell. I called the church and she answered the phone (weird) and said that she would send Chris over. By this time I was unable to walk without holding the wall and the light was hurting my eyes. (Felix was also still holding the giraffe and periodically coming over to me saying "giraffe hurt mama?"). My eyes were not dilated weirdly and I was coherent. I did not want to go to the doctor. Pay $30 for the doctor to say "Yep, mild concussion. Go home and sleep for two days." No Thank You. So I laid in bed all day and couldn't do anything. ANNOYING. Chris and Crissy came over for the whole day and took care of me. It was nice. Ginger came and picked up the big boys for soccer. Paige got my stuff I needed to teach my co-op class today. The gospel at work.

Quinn was slightly annoyed I did not go to the doctor, but I rationalized well. (Oh, sure, trust the lady with the concussion). This morning I woke up with a slight headache and was glad I felt almost fine. Nevermind that nagging cloud in front of my eyes. It was smaller than yesterday's cloud anyway. I did go to co-op to teach my music class. Where we made homemade kazoos. And danced. Dizziness and headache back by 11:00. It was a GIRAFFE. A small wooden carved, docile animal. Crissy said, "Thank goodness it wasn't a lion, huh?" Cute.

Caramel Apple Anyone?
A new tradition! Last minute today, we made caramel apples. Very fally. Such fun! The kids had a blast, but I think Paige and I had more fun eating the leftover caramel. I will probably do it again very soon. Wanna come over? You could just buy a bag of caramels and some apples and show up. I'll chop some nuts. Come one, come all... Let's do something for fall!

What's in Your Pantry?

I just got off the phone with Ginger (link to the right) and reluctantly gave up going shopping with her. To clean my house. Ahem. Now I'm blogging for the second time today. I may give up blogging for Lent next spring.

Anyway, in our conversation I mentioned in passing (possibly for trying to lure her over) that I had nine pounds of chocolate chips in my pantry. Who does not have nine pounds of chocolate chips in their pantry? Allow me to explain. First of all, I am a chocolate freak. Most people know this. Blairs have chocolate running in their bloodstream. I make this chocolate cake called Triple Chocolate Bundt Cake. Very tasty (if I do say so myself). This cake requires 3 cups of chocolate chips. So, I always have two bags of chocolate chips in my pantry because I make this cake for just about every get together I have at my house or to take to someone else's house. Well, I had three bags of Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate Chips (wipe your mouth) in my pantry because they are the absolute best chocolate chips. Then I went to Sam's. ooooh, I love Sam's and sometimes I get a little bit carried away there. It's like a grown-up playground and they have YUMMY pizza. Anyhoo... I went down the baking aisle and NOTICED that the Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chips were 8.50 for a big bag (not sure pounds- maybe 4) and the Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate Chips (which they don't always carry) were 3.50 (or something like that) for 3.5 pounds. WOAH. Fate stepped in. Or fate dipped in chocolate stepped in. I even felt a wave of adrenaline hit me as I picked up the bag and felt its cold, lumpy packaging. I picked up 3 bags initially, but put back one, remembering that I had three bags at home in my pantry (9 pounds of chocolate is okay to have in your pantry, but definitely not 12... that's crazy). I never thought that this was irrational (okay, maybe a small part of me did because I did NOT want Quinn to see that I had bought that many chocolate chips) until I was talking to Ginger and I realized that there was actually NINE POUNDS of chocolate in the pantry. Hmmm. I also like there to be lots of cereal in the pantry. Not sure why.

So here's the recipe for my Triple Chocolate Bundt Cake (okay it's really Southern Living's recipe) that I know from memory:

1 box Devil's Food with pudding in the mix
1 5.9 ounce box of instant chocolate pudding
4 eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 1/4 cup oil
3 cups chocolate chips, divided
1/2 cup whipping cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour bundt cake. Mix 1st five ingredients in a bowl until well blended. Stir in two cups of chocolate chips. Pour into prepared bundt pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes. Toothpick will not come clean, but cake is done when you push on top of cake lightly and it bounces back.
Allow cake to cool for 10 minutes in pan and then let cool on wire rack for one hour. On low heat stir together remaining chocolate chips and 1/2 cup of whipping cream until it's chocolaty smooth. (Don't worry, you can lick the saucepan). Let ganoche (that's what the icing is called) cool for 10 minutes and then drizzle over cake. Allow to sit so the ganoche can harden. Enjoy.

PS. Quinn doesn't really like musicals. He was being sarcastic. I think it's funny though that people thought he really did like musicals and was secretly enjoying the fact that it was annoying him that people thought that he did. Heh, heh. I love musicals... dipped in chocolate. Yum.

ANNOUNCEMENT!

No, I'm not pregnant. I just wanted to let everyone know that I have set a new precedence for myself. Lately I have been made aware, by my own incapabilities, that I cannot keep my house clean for longer than two hours. This last fact I have known for some time but I constantly fought it. "Surely" (this is me to myself) "Surely I can keep the house clean for the evening until tomorrow morning." This, unfortunately, cannot be. It always surprises me that in the morning the house is a wreck. Maybe I shouldn't be blaming myself at all. Maybe it's the dirty house trolls that leave their secret hiding places when I fall asleep. They pour little Cheezit crumbs on the floor and pour a tiny bit of milk and cheerios on the table so that by morning it turns to concrete. They pee on the back of the toilet and leave cat hair on the sofa. The sink is full of dirty dishes and the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and have been for at least 36 hours. It's the trolls who wear clothes for one hour and throw them in the hamper and leave poop streaks in their underwear.

Anyway, I am not going to clean my house anymore. I left the house yesterday morning knowing that people were coming for lunch and my house was horrible. So that was my start. Then the house was basically clean last night and this morning it was a pigsty (really, how does it happen?). I've decided that I will singlehandedly make dirty, disgusting houses the new style. If you come to house, I will brew a nice pot of coffee in my disgusting coffee pot and we will clear a spot on the sofa to chat. I will wear my jeans (trouser ones of course) that can stand up in the corner by themselves and always wear shoes so that I don't feel the dirt under my feet in the kitchen. That sounds nice.

Not really. It's giving me the heebs just thinking about it. So I guess I'll load the dishwasher and mop the kitchen floor. And the bathroom floor. And just maybe I'll venture upstairs to clean the boys bathroom. Eewww. Maybe not. Quinn will eventually announce that the boys bathroom is disgusting and he'll clean it. He does a really good job. I'll throw a load of clothes in the washer and vacuum the bedrooms (do your bedrooms get vacuumed ever?). Maybe I'll even dust. The house does smell good when it's clean. For two hours. Ah well...

The Essence of My Life

What does my life smell like? It depends on your perspective. Sometimes it smells like piles of dirty laundry being ignored in the hall or mildewed socks that were discarded wet... in the corner... in shoes... two weeks ago. Sometimes it smells like Tide and Bounce and I enjoy smelling every piece of clean laundry (really, every single piece).

Sometimes I come in the house and squint my eyes and wrinkle my nose and say "what is that smell?'' Then I look for it until I find and discard it in the outside trash. Sometimes I come in my house and smell Pot Roast that has been cooking for six hours and breathe deep and sigh. My favorite smell is a baking triple chocolate bundt cake that is almost done. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or banana bread. Or pumpkin pie. Or maybe a giant turkey with gravy, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, Yankee dressing (what I refer to as my dad's most delicious white bread dressing... Perhaps I should say what Quinn refers to as my dad's dressing. Either way, it's magnificent.), and yeast rolls. Yum, I love food. I absolutely adore the smell of something yummy cooking in the oven.

Sometimes my house smells dank and unopened. It feels dark and smells of air conditioner. This time of year I love to open the windows in the morning and let that cool air drift through the house. It smells of fall. I can never fully explain the smell of fall. And I almost want to dread it because I detest being freezing, but then the end of September comes and I am in love and dream of boots and trouser jeans. I love the smell of a great candle, like vanilla bean or pumpkin spice.

Sometimes the smell of sweat overwhelms you in the house. Especially after exercise. And boys, with Crocs. Blech... Crocs make for nasty smelling feet. But then there is baby bath and Pert Plus and the boys are edible again and ready for cuddling. And the shower that I dread, especially when I wash my hair. Mmmm, my mother-in-law gave me this brown sugar scrub that smells so good and I love the smell of Pantene shampoo. Clean: hate to get there, but love to be there.

Sometimes I feel like that I'm repulsive in every way. I hate the way I look, or the way something fits. I hate that I overeat and that I'll never weigh 115 pounds. I just feel that, no matter how much I roll in my own perfume, I still have never recognized that it is my own filth and my love to revel in it outweighs the love for my Saviour. My life seems to be this never ending circle of faith, pride, unbelief, destruction, consequences, and repentance. He sees me differently and poored out Himself for me. How can that be? The essence of my life... I am clothed in the finest of robes though I see rags and I smell of the finest perfume though I deserve my own filth. Grace greater than all my sin!

Vision

'O God of grace, You have transferred my sin to my substitute, and have transferred His righteousness to me, clothing me with a bridegroom's robe, decking me with jewels of holiness. Yet I daily live as though dressed in rags - my best prayers are infected with sin; my tears of penitence are polluted with pride; my confessions of wrong are attempts at earning your favor which only increases my guilt; my receiving the Spirit is tainted with selfishness. I need to repent of my repentance; I need my tears to be washed; I have no robe to bring to cover my sins; no loom to weave my own righteousness; I am always standing clothed in filthy garments, and by grace am always receiving change of attire, for You do justify the ungodly; I am always going into the far country, and always returning home as a prodigal, always saying Father, forgive me, and You are always bringing forth the best robe. Every morning let me wear it, every evening return in it, go out to the day's work in it, be married in it, be wound in death in it, stand before the great white throne in it. Grant me never to lose sight of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, the exceeding righteousness of salvation, the exceeding glory of Christ, the exceeding beauty of holiness, the exceeding wonder of grace. Amen.'

Valley of Vision

We read the above in church yesterday in unison. I was struck by the accuracy of myself in it. Jesus is the Lover of my soul. My own sin stuns me. I am distracted by it and it continually makes me stumble. Very frustrating. I love the reminder that Christ brings forth His best robe, no matter how many times I leave as a prodigal. How sweet the sound!

FELLOWSHIP of the HILLS

Went to Christa and Jeremy's house last night (sure wish Christa, had a blog-she's a hoot... a-hem). Anyway. We had so much fun. When I say "so much fun" I mean I nearly wet myself laughing. Doubled over- I feel like I did crunches for two hours- laughter. With the children neatly tucked away upstairs (except for the babies) we just hooted and nearly cried over our shananigans. Virginia took pictures. Michelle Quinn absolutely is the most hilarious person that God ever placed on the earth. Carol Burnett reborn. She hits my funny bone just right. I had been looking forward to last night since Christa e-mailed about it two weeks ago. And it was just right. We came home at midnight (for those who are curious: yes. I was delirious after 10:00- really just made the stories funnier). I had Quinn laughing at one of Michelle's stories on the way home. Laughing hard. My children slept 'til 8:00 this morning. Unheard of. I actually did the "YES" arms this morning when I woke up and saw that the clock said 7:50. Perfection.
I love that God made us to interact and love each other. Laughter is the most ingenius creation. We had a fab-u-lous time.
Gotta get ready for two soccer games.

I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO glad today is Friday. Not that the weekend is any less crazy, you understand, but at least I can let my kids watch TV on saturday morning with no guilt. Well, I do feel a leedle bit guilty after 4 hours, but hey, I just smooth on past the guilt. Just ROLL on. Big Mac Truck. Rolling over the guilt. Vroom. Toot, toot, chugga, chugga, Big Red Car... travel near and travel far. Love the Wiggles. Seriously. Maybe it's the Australian accent. I always was a sucker for accents.



I have a new reason for feeling guilty. We have instituted a new rule in our house. The rule is the boys' room has to be clean before they go to bed. This started innocently enough. The room just kept getting more and more trashed. I hated going up there at nighttime, knowing what was going to greet me. I talked to Maja (mother of 7 children has much knowledge) and was complaining about it. She told me that she had instituted a new rule of room must be clean before bedtime. She gives the girls (her two youngest) a check for a clean room and an X for a messy room. They are only allowed one X for the week. If they have more than one, then no TV saturday morning. Brilliant! 'I will institute this rule immediately', I said to myself. And I did. So this is our third week. I have shown "mercy" twice already. Or "forgot" about the X's. Am I so addicted to "Little Einsteins" that I have issues with consistency? Um, yes, I am.

So, they are cleaning their room right now. And they will watch "Little Einsteins" in the morrow. And I will drink coffee and watch the Biography preview channel with my husband like I do every Saturday morning. And feel guilty that I'm not showing consistency. And then get another cup of coffee.

Oh, well... maybe next week...

9/11


Well, today is 9/11. What a very sad, horrible anniversary. I had just found out that I was pregnant with the Si-guy and Quinn was off work that morning. We watched the Today Show in absolute horror. I will never, ever forget the fear and dread of that day. Even now, the footage just brings back that exact same feelings and I am back on that couch, unmoving and sobbing. I kept just saying 'surely there's nobody in those buildings... they've evacuated them haven't they?' And then I would see someone jump out the window. Oh dear God, the memory is torture itself. The horror of that day! Jason and Michelle (family-link to the right under Littles) had been to New York several weeks before and had had breakfast in the World Trade Center Restaurant. I, myself stood on top of one of the twin towers on an unforgettable trip to New York with some FBC friends in 1995. That's what I think when I look at pictures from that day. I stood up there and saw New York and laughed with my friends and took pictures. Crazy. What if it had been that day? At 20 years old, I had no knowledge of the bombing that took place there two years earlier. Mostly because I was completely ignorant of the news.
So now what do I think? The future freaks me out. I have three children and they are growing up in a scary society. No doubt, we will be a completely socialized government in 10 to 20 years (or at least medically). What will their lives be like with their wives and children? I have a good friend who was a bridesmaid in our wedding (Jodi) who lives in Canada. After having her little boy I asked her about her birthing experience. Did she have an epidural (women just ask these things, you know) and she laughed and said "you don't get an epidural in Canada unless you have a C-section". Think about that! Yikes!
The gospel is ringing in my ears now and I know that my children are being raised knowing the gospel. Christ is our only hope and we are hopeless without Him. I think about other countries, like China, who are not allowed to have the gospel and their country is busting at the seams with believers. Not just lame ducks like me either, but people who are alive and burning with it. Do I really want to be on fire? Of course, I'll say YES, because that is what I'm supposed to say, but really? What is it like to be trembling with fear and pain and refusing to recant the gospel? I don't know. I don't know. Will I ever? It's a possibility. It's a huge possibility with our kids. What's next?

Hey. Just did the Pilates class. Wow. Gonna hurt a little bit tomorrow. I'm excited about it though. If you've been thinking about it, COME! I think somebody said to me "I'm not wearing a tutu." Well, as much as I actually would like to wear a tutu, I don't think we'll be wearing them.

On a completely observational, neurotic note... I've gained five pounds this summer. Last summer I gained 7 pounds. I lost it in the winter. It seems I'm always in better shape in the winter. Why is this so? I know it certainly could not be that I'm lazy, LAZY in the summertime and snack the whole time on pool ministry days. I'm sure that is not the case. Anyway, it seems a little backward to me. And I know that it's just 5 pounds, but it makes a difference in the way clothes fit. It also drives me batty. Anyhoo. Perhaps I need to speak to my inner child. Tell her, "it's okay to put down the 1/2 gallon of Moose Tracks." Mmm, Moose Tracks does sound good. However, if I had it in the freezer, I would go to it with a spoon just to take a little, tiny bite and then completely lose conciousness with the fact that I am eating ice cream. Especially if the first bite revealed the delicately lined fudgy, peanut buttery stuff underneath. And then you have to push down your spoon a little bit harder to get it. And then it's the size of a mini candy bar. And that bite was just so good that you had to have "just a couple more bites" and then you're digging for the next bit of fudgy, peanut buttery stuff. Before you know it, 5 minutes has gone by and your hands are sticky and you throw your spoon down in disgust. It sure was good though. For this reason, I bought Edy's slow-churned chocolate chip cookie dough simply because I do not care for it. Quinn loves the cookie dough ice cream. Not a fan. Unless, of course, I make a batch of cookie dough and then put some in a bowl with a couple scoops of Breyer's Vanilla Bean and some homemade hot fudge sauce. yumness. You know, if I made the hot fudge sauce, I could probably choke down a couple scoops of cookie dough ice cream. Gotta go...

Did I mention the Pilates class?

I am so obnoxious at nighttime. Anybody got a good bean soup recipe? I thought I had one and I don't. I think I used to make one, but I don't remember what I did.

Tomorrow I am starting a ballet/pilates class that Michelle Davis (Briarwood Ballet Instructor) is teaching at our church for grownup ladies. FUN FUN FUN! If anybody is at all interested, the classes are $5 per class. And you can pay as you go. I can't wait. Maybe I'll be a dancer yet!

Okay, I tagged myself for the middle name game. It looked too fun to wait to be tagged. I think the rules are as follows: Come up with something meaningful for each letter of your middle name. If you do not have a middle name then I'm very sorry. Make up a middle name. If you are funny or especially insightful then make up a long middle name. Also, I would like to add that I will probably not come up with something meaningful for each letter of my name. I legally have two middle names because I'm cool and so I will choose Blair because it has two more letters than Sue. I may do both. After all, Charlotte is quite a long middle name (Abbey) and so I will begin now.

S - SLEEPY at 11:00 PM
U - UNORGANIZED unfortunately. However, with each child I have given birth to I have maintained a leedle more organization. I need approximately 5 more children to reach my peak of organizational ability.
E - EXCELLENT procrastinator. I am very good at procrastinating other duties so that I may do what I like to do. Like blog instead of loading the dishwasher and folding laundry. Or shower. We've already covered the weird shower thing though.

B - BOYS who knew that at eighteen when I longed to be surrounded by boys who adored me that it would turn out to be my adoring husband and three beautiful sons?
L - LAUGH out loud. BWA HA HA! I love to laugh, loud and long and clear! (anybody know that song? Mary Poppins) Apparently, I also use humor as a defense mechanism. Who knew?
A - AUDACIOUS oh yeah, that's me. I say things to complete strangers in the store and embarass the crap out of everybody I'm with. Or I return dishes back to the kitchen at a restaurant. My husband loves to go shopping or out to eat with me. I think he rolls his eyes for exercise.
I - IRRIDESCENT Yes, very shimmery. Almost like a fish. Gosh, I'm sleepy.
R - REALLY BAD DANCER but I can do choreography pretty good. I just have to learn it. Cannot dance off the cuff. It's very bad. Choreography: good Improvisational Dancing:Bad.


That's it. That is fun. I tag anybody who wants to be tagged. Lame. Don't call me a communist. Communist? Okay, I'm going to bed now. Do I make sense ever? Also, Kerri - you must blog. I know that you are almost peeing yourself right now. BLOG!

Morning Girl Ramblings

'tis a ramble this morning...

I'm the only one awake in my house at 6:30 am, which is kind of unusual. It's very quiet due to the fact that the box fan in the hallway that is always on (white noise is terrific) broke this week. I can hear the air conditioner and the coffee pot making its last "I'm done brewing" gurgling. It's nice being the only one awake, even if I did wake up at 5:30 randomly and couldn't go back to sleep. Side note... I actually get excited when I wake up at 5 to 5:30 because I can get up and blog while everybody is asleep. This doesn't usually work though, because the baby can always tell when I am awake. He's superbaby and can sense when I'm not asleep. Anyway, it is what is making this morning nice.

This has been a week of "what exactly happened?". Last weekend, Kerri and her girls came to visit (we missed you Mitt) and that was tremendous. Jason and Michelle and their girls came over on Saturday which was so fun and filled with laughs and Youtube sitings. Ja and Chelle are our only family that live in B'ham and we just don't see each other enough. Kerri and Mitt only live 2 hours a way and we don't see them much either. The fact that we see neither family much sucks. Not to mention that my family lives 9 hours away. Anyway... We made pineapple ice cream, which sounds good, but it wasn't and played Lord of the Rings Monopoly (which was wierd... I did love that the money was called 'power' instead of 'dollars' and we all had different accents to say power. Mostly it was asian, but maybe we were trying to say it with an English accent. 'I need 50 powa!') So fun. Sunday was church and community groups, which was great and Monday was Quinn's birthday. And then the week started and just flew by.

Yesterday was Friday (really?) and co-op started, and then Missy came over for lunch. She surprised me with the news of a blog (woohoo! link to the right) and we messed around with her blog while the kids were swimming. She asked ME, the computer genius, how to do stuff. And I could tell her. I still don't know how to e-mail pictures though. Last night I went to Crissy's house and there was a mass amount of people there and it was a blast. I just love mass amounts of people. I took some pictures for Maja of Brody and Felix in some of her gorgeous outfits (she creates patterns and makes these beautifully smocked and old-fashioned outfits that I just adore. She named a new pattern for a suit the "Felix". Yup, famous now. She is http://www.majasheirlooms.com/ ) We had spaghetti, coffee, brownies, and great conversation with the ladies. Here are some cute pictures of the boys. Brody and Felix are buddies. Felix calls him Bro-bro.

We got home and Silas had a very random bloody, bloody nose. Poor thing, it always freaks him out when he bleeds and we just have to work to calm him down.

So, today is Saturday. I HAVE to clean my house and do laundry today. It would be nice to run and go to the library. There is football today ('tis the season) and I need to catch up on lesson plans. I'd love to go to Sam's. We're babysitting tonight. No chance for non insanity today. I think I really must resolve this whole thing about not being crazy busy. I actually thrive on busyness, it makes me get stuff done.

Babies are all up now and chirping for breakfast. So long and have a great Saturday!

Check out my Slide Show!

Today is Quinn's 30th birthday. Last night we had our community group over and everybody brought black balloons and we all sang happy birthday when they came in. Funny. Too bad we had a little tiff about buying a box of tampons 10 minutes beforehand. Cause I was being snooty to him and a little female doggish (THE reason we were fighting about the tampons). Anyway, we had a great time and I adore our community group. We all just chatted, ate (the best ham ever), and the kids swam. Good times.

So he's 30 now. And he's married to me (for better or worse). And we've been married for eight years. And we've got three boys. Wow. Thanks babe. I love you more than chocolate. (really)

5:00 AM. So sleepy. Cannot go back to sleep due to baby kicking me in the head. I actually woke up at 4:30 and tried to go back to sleep but CANNOT do it. Felix has always been the kind of baby that never slept well. When he was itty bitty, he had skin eczema like crazy so his itchy little skin would itch and he would wake up all night. It was very frustrating because, at the time, we didn't know he had allergies and it would drive me crazy why he wouldn't sleep. Nevermind the bumpy, itchy, oozing skin (it honestly did not occur to me that those things would keep him awake. Brilliant, I know.). But now, his skin is gorgeous and he seems to have outgrown most of his baby allergies. Problem solved? Nope. Not sure why, but he still wakes up almost every night and cries for us. Now, we are "let-the-baby-cry,-he'll-be-fine-in-a-minute" kind of people. We shut the door to his room and let him fuss for a minute and he'll go back to sleep. But when we have company, we make him a pallet on the floor and he sleeps with us- which is why he is in our bed right now. And will be tonight. And tomorrow night. I dearly love having company (Quinn's sister Kerri and my dear nieces) and will not allow Felix to keep everybody else awake with his fussing, so in the bed he goes. He usually sleeps with his feet in my face (or Quinn's face) and kicks. Crazy night of sleep. This is also especially fun when we go to visit somebody else.

Oh well, I'm sure it will be something I laugh at later. Corin used to have horrible dreams and got in bed with us occasionally and Silas sleeps like a dead man (he was the BEST baby as far as sleeping goes... when he was awake he was trying to hurl himself off something). But both of them are definitely out of the baby phase and into the train-them-up-in-the-way-they-should-go phase. I do not want to wish the baby out of Felix, because it will end soon. And he is very cute. He is lisping sentences together now and my heart just swells when he says "I wub oo, Momma". Smooch. He's such a smoocher. Sweet baby.

I guess I'll just go make a pot of coffee and enjoy the kicking in the face while it lasts.

Swim Ministry 2007
I love living in the pool house! We've really enjoyed the pool this summer. The Clayton's (who own the house) generously open up their pool in the summer on Tuesdays and Fridays. And, boy did the people come! We have had a blast and enjoyed all the birthday parties that have been held here. We're gearing up for fall now and soon the pool will close. Alas, all good things must come to an end...

Squirrel Nut Zippers - The ghost of Stephen Foster

New favorite video. Old cartoon put to the song. Impressive!

Another day, another dollar. So the saying goes anyway. The boys are waiting patiently for me to start school and of course the laundry is all done and the beds are made and the dishwasher is loaded and the house is dusted, vacuumed, cloroxed, swept, mopped, and windexed. I am just applying a touch of lip gloss and straightening my skirt before the day begins. The children are wearing their freshly ironed polos and khakis and the baby is fresh-faced and clean. People ask me how I keep it together and I just gasp and say "I don't know what you mean!" Very modest. I do know that I have an edge and I just think that God made me this way! I'll just sigh a contented sigh and kiss my children.



Content. Hmmm... The boys ARE waiting for me to start school since I yelled up the stairs 15 minutes ago to come downstairs so that I can start school. The boys' beds are made (kind of, since they make them themselves) but mine is not. I actually cannot start school until my bed is made (also the bed must be made before people come over... I still have to close the door to my room because there is crap everywhere, but at least the bed is made - in case anybody sees it). OCD. The laundry is NEVER done and right now the load in the dryer smells like mildew because it sat in the dryer all night without me turning it on. This after I had to rewash it last night after I let it sit in the washer all day yesterday. Is the house ever really clean? I feel like I just kind of let it ride and bleach the sinks and windex the bathroom when someone comes over. Thank goodness people come over. I only dust when Josh Mitchell (husband of Paige- one of my links) comes over. Not sure why that is, except that he is very clean, but surely he doesn't notice the dust on the entertainment center (or does he? which is why I dust). I don't care if Paige sees that I don't dust. Wierd. I have to persuade the boys to MATCH their clothes and they hate polo shirts ("They're too dressy! Why are we dressing up?") and the baby will wear his pajamas until after he messes them up at lunch. He's just a little sticky. Currently I am sitting on the couch blogging in my now drying sweaty running clothes which I will wear until the baby goes down for his nap after lunch so I can take a shower in peace (he likes to open the shower curtain while I'm showering and play peek-a-boo and ask "wat dat, mama?"). The cushions are out of place on the sofa, K'nex are everywhere, my breath is RANK and now I'm ready to start the day. Right after I make my bed. After all, what if somebody comes over?

I'm listening to Citizen Cope. He's fabulous. And he seems to go perfect with a stormy afternoon. Today has been one of those wierdly perfect days that just fits with the universe. Mundane activities, a run with my hubby, a short shopping trip to exchange something (all by myself), a theology discussion with my husband, and the boys getting along well (even with the punishment of no TV for the whole day), and now the opportunity of blogging while Quinn plays hide and seek with the boys just makes for a really nicely put together day.

I'm enjoying it immensely.

I was thinking about college life today. Well, I spoke to my Rachel (Williamson) earlier who is now 20 years old (close your mouths, I know I'm old) and listening to her college life and it made me think about mine. College was a glorious experience for me. High School just pales in comparison to the fun (I mean the vast deal of knowledge I gained) in college. My mother, I think, really wanted me to go to college to just GO. I really just wanted to get married and have babies, following in the family tradition of marrying young and getting pregnant immediately. This was what I thought I truly wanted. Living the dorm life did sound appealing though and I found out at the age of 18 that I got three free roundtrip flights a year on Delta (my Dad worked for Delta forever) until I turned 23. Dorm life and travel. Okay, I'll sign up. I would probably just get married after my first year in college anyway. That's what a lot of Bible College girls did anyway.

So I had a lot of fun. I did have a brief stint out of school (when you cut school and don't do any work you get kicked out) which was humiliating and a monumental life lesson. I traveled a LOT and did some crazy stuff which I would never do now. Well, I still would go repelling and I just recently went camping with a bunch of women with no men and 9 children, and I still do stupid stuff for talent shows and enjoy a crazy night out with the girls where other tables just look at us in utter annoyance for being so loud. So maybe I should say... I did crazy stuff then and now. I don't know. I had a lot of fun in college. But...

Didn't get married until I was 24. So those 6 years (that's right, 6 years for a bachelor's... wanna make something of it?) were chock full of romantic frustrations and disillusionment for me. Well, maybe not all 6 years. Quinn and I did decide to get married in the fall of 1998. So maybe... 4 1/2 years of romantic frustrations and disillusionment and a year and a half of sexual frustration. Looking back, I see how God used that time to teach me and show me how much He much He knew and loved me. I did travel a lot and I did enjoy dorm life a bunch. But I also was looking for my future around every corner and waiting for Mr. Right to just sweep me off my feet. Some days were very lonesome. I kept thinking every year "surely I will get married before I am _____." And that year would pass and I hadn't even met (so I thought) the man I would marry. Not only that, but I also seemed to sabatoge any relationship, so that I thought I would NEVER marry. No man would have crazy, sabatoge girl for a wife. (Quinn's so sweet; he likes Crazy, Sabatoge girl).

God is sovereign. He knew and knows what is best for me. It seemed he was silent when I prayed I wanted to get married. And He was just telling me to wait.

"I am confident in this very thing, that He who created a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus."

He's still not done, though I am very satisfied with my life. This is what I've always wanted! It makes me a little nervous knowing that there is unknown out there but at least I can comfort myself knowing that is unknown to me perhaps, but He knows and has just asked me to wait.

Okay... I've made a new playlist. I can tell it's going to be something that I like to do. It is very fun to find songs. This is a conglomeration of different stuff that I like that has interesting instruments, voices, creativity, etc. Basically, something that catches my ears and makes me give it a good listen to. Big Variety. Check out "Did I Step on Your Trumpet" on Utube by the Danielson Family. Crazy Stuff. I love tight harmony so "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby" and "Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen" are satisfying to the ear. "Toxic" by Nickel Creek is hilarious and you'll recognize "Remind Me" by Royksopp as soon as you hear it. Phil Keaggy is a brilliant guitar player and Solas is an Irish band which satisfies some ancestral blood in me somewhere. I really wanted to put "Sinister Minister" by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones on here for Burt, but it wouldn't take for some reason. "The Longing" gives a good taste of who Bela Fleck is. "Whip it" is purely for fun. Enjoy!

Quinn blogged... check it out. Very funny.

Our trip to Mississippi and the trip to the George Dodd Dairy!

Questions I must ask myself...

Do I really love my neighbor as myself? no

Am I self-righteous and scornful of others? no comment

Do I seek recognition and my own glory? well...

Do I, intentionally or unintentionally, leave out others so that they percieve me as a snot? um...

Have I hurt other peoples' feelings with my own ignorant words?

Am I a selfish wife, mother, friend, acquaintance, mentor, etc..?

Is it hard for me to receive instruction?

Am I prideful and arrogant?

Do I care more about what the scale says than my husband says?

Do I think like a believer covered by God's grace? It is hard to remember...

Is it hard to be submissive to a man who loves me more than himself?

Do I hate getting and looking older?

Do I harbor bitterness against others?

Why is it so hard to live sometimes? I am the picture of the naked, bleeding orphan who was adopted to grow up and be a harlot against her own beloved Savior. Why is it so hard to love something or someone? I know that I am a child of the true King, and yet I wear my rags of righteousness so well. I'm tired and I feel weak. I will still sin in this filthy body and I will reek of the perfume of my own unrighteousness. And He still loves me. And He still sought me and made me His own. I am clueless and He teaches me.

Weeks of planning went into the night. I was a little on the outskirts of the planning, but just listened in wide-eyed anticipation. Were they actually planning on going through with this insane plan? Why was I listening? Why wasn't I upstairs, in my room, listening to a CD and procrastinating on my paper? Oh yeah, I was downstairs listening to the planning AS my procrastination measure. So I sat, and listened with rapt attention with fear tied in a knot in my stomach. The date was set, the materials needed were purchased, the outfits ready (of course there were outfits), and I was participating.
I went to bed the night of the deed with the knot in my stomach pulsating. I was excited because it was a true college prank I was going to participate in with upperclass girls. I was inducted because of being a cheerleader and friends with Jodi Krey, whose brother was dating the upperclass cheerleader Amy. Amy and her sister Suzanne were the ringleaders of the outfit. They were always up to something, but, unlike me, were always able to make very good grades. We all went to bed that night, donned in black sweats and were to wake up at 2:00 AM to perform the dastardly deed. I was able to fall asleep, in spite of the giant butterfly weaving a cocoon in my stomach. My alarm went off at two and I just laid there, not really believing the others were going to come for me. Leave me be, leave me be, leave me be. Knock, knock. Whispers in the hall. I went to the door and just let them know that I didn't think I could do it, but thanks for thinking of me. Blink blink... Three girls with black shoe polish smeered all over their faces and ski caps on their heads looked back at me and then pulled me into the hallway where I was smeered with said black shoe polish and donned with a ski cap. Sigh... okay.
I shouldv'e gone to the bathroom then. But I didn't.
With much apprehension, I followed the silent girls to the edge of the hall. We had to listen for the Security Guy to go outside on his rounds. The door downstairs creaked and we heard him leave. We went across the upper lobby to the guys' dorm hall (tiny college) with all of our prank stuff and got to work. Heavy string at ankles length secured at all the doors. Black garbage bags smeared with vaseline taped across all doors. Vaseline smeared on all doorknobs. Vaseline (have I mentioned Vaseline?) smeared on the telephone in the hallway. Humongous bags of balloons were dumped in the hallway (which we had to drag across the upstairs lobby on our hands and knees so Security Guy wouldn't see us from outside in the windows). We hung stuff from the ceiling (I can't remember what) and sprayed some nasty smelling spray we found at a joke store all down the hall. Lastly, Suzanne stood at the electrical box while the rest of us stood waiting at the end of the hall. She turned off ALL the electricity on that side of the building and then we screamed as loud as we could and ran back to our dorm rooms as fast as we could. We did go to our own rooms and all agreed to watch the reaction from our own windows (tiny college that used to be a hotel that was kinda U-shaped). Silence. Darkness for a long time. Then, a light. And another. My heart was beating really fast. What had I done? I was the only one from my room who had participated in the prank and now I was wondering what the other girls (who were roommates, by the way) were doing. I was about to run to their room when I heard male voices in the hall. Um, crap. I listened at the door and could not make out their conversation. Then they knocked. I ignored them, terrified. Knocking again. Backing up to a dark corner, I continued to ignore them. Then I heard laughter and a key in the door. NO! Wrong key. Another key and this one worked (old hotels apparently had LOTS of the same locks). No time for explanation and the girl wearing all black with remnants of shoe polish on her face was obviously guilty. Hoisted up by many, I was carried on shoulders down the hallway, down the stairs, out the back door, and promptly thrown in the pool at approximately 4:00 in the morning.
Hmmm... apparently, vengeance was satisfied because the boys had disappeared without dragging the others from their beds and throwing them into the pool. I went back upstairs dripping (with Security Guy laughing at me) and knocked on my friends' door. They had pushed two dressers in front of their door and so it took them a minute to open it. Many laughs were had by all. Fun times.
This was my favorite prank performed in college. It's one of many (especially at FBC, I guess I outgrew them by the time I got to Southeastern) and I enjoyed reliving it.

Yes, this is the prank where I peed in my pants, just a little.
Oh yeah, my roommate slept through the whole thing.

Memory...

What makes a memory? I enjoy music a good deal; this song by Over the Rhine is amazing. Music to me is just a weaving, looping, overlapping language that touches different parts of my memory. I loved making a playlist. It took me too long, but I loved every minute of it. "Nightswimming" takes me back to 8th grade and an obsession with REM. I learned the piano part by listening to it so many times. "If I had a Million Dollars" reminds me of Joy Wheat (Baker) and my first year in college wasting time and listening to great music, cutting class to go to the beach, and not paying attention to the clutch going out in the Datsun. "Candy for Breakfast" reminds me of Joy, too cause she could swing dance really good. We would hang out and go to a Swing Club at Disney (sounds lame but it wasn't) and I would watch in disbelief as she was lifted up and basically flung around all over the place. I learned a little, but could stand a few more lessons. Anything by Squirrel Nut Zippers reminds me of Michelle my Darling Quinn and being absolutely insane with her and Missy at Southeastern. "It Had to Be You" reminds me of my mother and watching "When Harry met Sally" with her and my sister. Mom ignited my love for Harry Connick Jr. (pretty much for music in general) and I have loved him ever since. "Anthony" reminds me of Maggie Sharp singing for the talent show and how cute those Sharp kids looked on stage. They're such ANGELS! "Mockingbird" reminds me of my own humanity and how much of a mess I am. "Istanbul" is just a great silly song. I wanted to just put a million songs on there, I'll probably just have to make another playlist soon.

I'm just listening now to "Blackbird". One of my husband's favorite Beatles songs. Memories lap on my mind and leave a dazed look on my face and a smile on my mouth. I love music. Sweet Dreams.

Rollercoaster...



had a good day... swim day... lots of kids (lots)... now just kind of poopy (not Felix poopy, just emotionally poopy)...



I've been thinking about Amber Ellis tagging me moons ago to tell 7 things about myself that nobody would know. I'm having a hard time with that because, well, you already know pretty much everything about me. Things that you don't know I can't type in a blog (although I have told at women's gatherings, refer to previous blog and verbal diarrhea exerpts) so maybe I will make up stuff and let you think about if I am telling the truth.



1) I am secretly a(n) astronaut or FBI agent or heavy sleeper who leaves at 10pm every evening to do what is required of me. We make millions of dollars because I'm really good at this.



2) I'm obsessed with my toenails (not my fingernails); I like them long and without any polished chipped. (Thank you snotty girl in junior high who told me "no nail polish is better than chipped nail polish". Snot. She should see them now. Well, maybe not right now, but later.)



3) I have dermatitis and am dying a slow death. Dermatitis takes between 40 and 60 years from the time of diagnosis to finally drive one to complete insanity and derangement. (I have hit this early, it seems).



4) I stand at the foot of the bed nearly every night and pretend that I am in the Olympics and must make a flying leap into the bed. My hands go up in the air and I pivot to the right and left before my dive. Sometimes I do a somersault. Quinn thinks its funny (or annoying).



5) Kim Hill is an alias for me because I am in the witness protection program because my husband "Quinn" killed a man 10 years ago and we have now moved to Moody to start a nice quiet life as Southerners who homeschool their kids. Unfortunately, I am not quiet and I can't keep secrets.



6) I did a lot of pranks in college (and peed my pants- just a little- two times while doing them).



7) I like to put off taking a shower for as long as possible. Yes, it's gross. Secrets aren't pretty.

Funny, I'm pretty cheered up now. I tag Paige Mitchell, Amy Watson, Page Dollar (have you done one yet?), and Quinn Hill. Ready, GO!

I woke up with a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. My eyes flashed open and I thought, "did I really get together with the women in my church last night at Jessica Wright's ( that's her, by the way)house and eat snacks and chat?" Chat is such an innocent word. Chat. Very cute. We told stories and ate too much chocolate, which is, of course, the tongue loosener. I laughed until my back hurt; Paige Mitchell kept holding her jaw because she kept laughing so hard. Stories are fun. I love to tell stories (I do love attention, after all). We were there for four hours and just laughed ourselves silly. People know too much about my embarrassing stories. I did TELL them the stories, um, I don't know why I talk too much. Verbal Diarrhea.

I love chocolate (Jennifer Key's fresh chocolate chip cookies, Michelle Davis's Rocky Road Brownies, yum). I love good friends. I love that I can get together with my church family and feel SO comfortable that I tell too many details, with only minor regrets in the morning (and that is mostly because I feel like an idiot for talking too loud and talking too much). It is a very good thing. Women were meant to interact and be an encouragement to one another. I've got my Covenant sisters and I am happy.

PS I wasn't the only one with embarrasing stories.

PSS It feels good to know that I'm not the only one with verbal diarrhea.

PSSS Well, I'll leave this one for the nervous people who think I would mention something about their honeymoon. I would never do that.

Check out my Slide Show!

I would just like to say that there are photos in my previous blog AND a link to a website. I did it ALL BY MYSELF. Thanks for the tutorial Virge.

Quinn and I ran the Retro Run 5K on Saturday! Pretty amazing. I will definitely do another one again. Kudos to Abbey Gore and my sister for inspiring me @ 32 years of age to run a race. My time was 36:00 which is not extremely impressive (considering the Kenyan leader finished in 13:00 and then lapped us to run the race AGAIN), but I was just amazed that I finished with a consistent pace. My sweet husband also stayed with me the whole race (and let me beat him by one second) when he couldv'e gone a heckuva lot faster and made a much better time for himself. Thanks Baby! I like running with you. Will you be my friend forever? Check yes or no. Heather Nold took these pictures at the race, which I am so thankful for. I really look like I'm chugging, but I'm just about dead at the end. Just in case you think you cannot possibly run a 5K ever, I started with something called "From the couch to a 5K" on the trak shak's web site (www.trakshak.com) and just see for yourself how easy it is to start. I completely surprised myself. There's another one in September in Pinson and I'm gonna do it. I addicted now. Woo hoo!

Happy with Myself?

not really... which is why I chose the title. It is an Over the Rhine song that is gorgeous (at this point I would love to actually play the song for you, it is on my itunes, but again....) and provokes thoughts on how I view my relationship to my Savior.

"I'm happy with myself
I'm happy with myself
and I don't have
what it takes
to please you

I've been trying
to write you a letter
I've been trying
for two or three years
maybe I
could just say it better
practice some
in front of a mirror
here
oh

I've been trying
to build you a heaven
crowns of thorns
in Mason Jars
angels that dance
on pins and needles
maybe I've tried
a little too hard
oh"

I get so frustrated being in my own selfish skin. Why am I allowed to be a mother? Why does He allow us to be so stricken by our own sin? The gospel rings true in my head, and is both a repetitive drum and a safe, beautiful melody that plays always. I can't hear it sometimes because of my own screaming insecurities. I am not happy with myself, but should I be? I feel like this great, big, awkward buffoon who talks to loud and says STUPID stuff (hello verbal diarrhea). Stop talking!

...though I'm usually pacifistic
you are mercifully sadistic
and I didn't know
that murder
could be good
but the roses came crimson
springing
from the prison
of the floorboards
where there once were stains
of blood... (OTR "within without")

I am very frustrated in being completely incapable of doing new computer stuff. I have been waiting and waiting to blog because I wanted this beautiful slide show of our Panama City family beach trip. So I was able (for the first time, with much help from hubby) to put my pictures on my computer and then use my Picture Project program to edit and do cool stuff to my pictures. Sounds very savvy, doesn't it? Well, I can't figure out how to get the pictures from Picture Project to Slide Show.com. Yes, extremely annoying. You may be shaking your head and saying, "Oh Kim, it's so easy!" Hmmm... Easy does not work for me. Virginia has come over several times and helped me do stuff and given me very CLEAR instructions and I am a complete nincompoop. So I'm blogging now because I have become so annoyed with myself and I WANT you to see these cool pictures and tell you about our very 1st, only our family, family vacation, and I can't. So there you go. Will I ever, EVER, be able to do computer stuff with stumbling over my own stupidity? I think not. Now, everyone go to Virginia's blog and look at her cool stuff and know that THAT is how I want to do stuff. I know there is something where I can underscore her name and it will take you directly to her blog, but I don't know how to do that. Shocker.

SIGH.......

I LIKE CAKE

I'm listening to Cake and thinking in general about cake. Chocolate to be precise. I should be thinking about cleaning because WOW. The children are upstairs playing with K'NEX, so that is somewhat educational, right?

I love the verse to this song...

I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperities
who uses a machete to cut through red tape
with fingernails that shine like justice
with a voice that is dark like tinted glass
she is fast,
thorough,
and sharp as a tack
she is touring the facility and cutting no slack...

Such a fun song. Quinn likes "Distance". It is also a fabulous song. One of desperation and pathetic"ness". His favorite verse:

No trophy,
No flowers,
No flashbulbs,
No line,
He is haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse
assail him
impale him
with monster truck force.
In his mind, he's still driving
still making the grade
She's hoping in time that her memories will fade.
Cause he's racing and pacing, and plotting the course.
He's fighting and biding and riding on his horse.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up
and long ago somebody left with the cup
but he's striving and driving and hugging the turns
and thinking of someone for whom he still burns...


He especially likes the "Bowel shaking earthquake" line.
May I continue to talk to you in Cake terms? I'm really into them lately. I like their lyrics exceedingly. I really don't know that much about them, but I like how the lead singer talks through the song rather than sings. Why does he do that and why do I like it? The song "Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps," is one of my new favorite songs. It has this spanish style that makes me want to spin and salsa with my broom.

So if you really love me
Say yes
But if you don't dear
Confess
But please don't tell me
perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,

perhaps, perrrhaps, perrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr haps.


And of course, "Stickshifts and safetybelts" is one of the most fun songs. Great car song. Go to itunes and fetch some Cake for yourself. It's great housecleaning music. I'm sure Cake would be exceedingly glad to know that some Alabamian thirty-something housewife is cleaning her house with gym shorts and a t-shirt on, with hair in a pony tail that desperately needs to be washed (why wash it when I plan to swim later- daily question) with Cake blaring from her husband's ipod. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

LAZINESS

Why am I so lazy about my blog? I really do love to blog and I laugh gloriously when I read the ridiculous comments others make to me when I am gone. This is how it happens: I blog and I think to myself "how I love to blog, I think I will blog everyday", I do not blog the next day or the day after but still think "it has only been a couple of days, I will blog very soon", then two weeks go by and I feel the need to blog, but cannot think about anything I would like to blog about. Several weeks have slipped by and now I do not want to check my blog because I feel guilty that I haven't blogged. Why do I feel guilty? Not sure. The blog is a fun thing for me to do and I do not want to feel guilty that I haven't blogged. Guilt is practically a sister for me though, and I don't know what my life would be like if she were not riding on my shoulder.

An ode to guilt...

Ah, guilt wilt thou goad me into cleaning mine house? Thine is like a pungent stench that I cannot get rid of, though I diligently use Clorox Cleanup. Mine guilt is an everpressing flower of death that wakes me in the middle of the night. Ah, Benadryll, how I love your pink and white tablets when I sleepeth at night! Ah, guilt wilt though sitteth beside me on the davenport whilest I speaketh to kind relatives on the telephone? Wilt though stay on my back concerning things that I say when I have verbal diarhea and help me agonize over it for weeks? Wilt though remind me that I have bitten off more than I can chew everyday? Your promises to me are eternal in this life, at least. You are not kind to me and yet I cannot be without you...

It seems that I am more aware of my guiltiness the older I get. Perhaps I'm just more aware of my humanity. At any rate, would I miss her if she were gone?

Anne of Green Gables

For the millionth time, I am reading Anne. The Tillery's lent us some Madeline L'engle books (A Wrinkle in Time and several others in the series) and they were really good. I've had some great books to read in the last month, including The Thirteenth Tale which was phenominal. So when I finished Many Waters by Madeline L'engle this week, I put the book down with disappointment. The book itself was my favorite in the Wrinkle in Time companions, but I was out of books to read. Oh yes, I certainly could have gone to the Library, but somehow I always get brainfreeze at the library when picking out a new book. So I sauntered to our wellread library of books and perused my findings. We do have a series a classics that an elderly neighbor gave to us. I have been enjoying them as well, but I didn't really feel like picking up one the other day. And then my eyes roved to my beautiful copy of Anne of Green Gables that Quinn gave me a few years ago. I eagerly picked it up and sat in my favorite chaise. I have read the entire series so many times and I never get tired of them. Once I read the first one, I have to read the series in its entirety or I feel that I'm missing something. I just love when Anne and Gilbert get together. Perhaps I am flattering myself, but I feel that Anne is me. It is true that I, in fact, become her when I read the books. I remember a roommate at Florida Bible College telling me that she always knew when I was reading the books, because I started talking like her.

The movies, however, are a different thing altogether. I enjoyed the original two: Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, even though they were slightly different than the books. I felt that Megan Follows really did become Anne. And then a few years ago, they "finished" the series, if that's what you want to call it. So annoying. I didn't even bother watching them because I read the jackets and saw that it wasn't even close to the book. So I just stick with the movie in my mind and I star as red-headed Anne as she bumbles through her youth, finishes school, then Queens, then Redmond College, then as a school ma'am as she waits for her fiance, Gilbert to finish medical school. Then they marry and move to a different part of Prince Edward Island and start their family. I still cry when Anne's first child dies shortly after she's born and when her son, Walter, dies in World War I. I follow chubby Rilla Blythe, the youngest of the Blythe children, as she grows into a lovely young woman and thus ends the Anne Shirley series. Perhaps I fancy myself as one of her kindred spirits.

Well, Imust return to Anne as she accepts Josie Pye's dare to walk along the Barry's roof ridgepole to disastrous results. So long kindred spirits!

We closed on the house three weeks after the vandalism. We had planned to go to Disney after the house sold; and so we left one week after the closing to go to Florida to visit my family. We went to Disney with my sister and her family and had a blast! Of course, Virginia helped me load my pictures on my blog. I can't believe we're finally done with the house!

VANDALISM

Monday was a pretty normal day and I was looking forward to the evening, when I would meet some friends at Panera Bread for supper and Ladies Night Out. Quinn was supposed to get home at 5 to help with dinner for him and the boys and then take them to soccer practice. I was getting more irritated with him when he was not home at 10 after and I had not taken a shower. He called me a couple minutes later and said he was at the Roebuck house. His phone died as he was telling me the house had been broken into and things were stolen- click. No ladies night out. Oh well, what could they have stolen? There was really nothing of value there.

Later, Quinn called me from Alfa and told me what had happened. They broke in the house through the basement window and had busted the garage door because they couldn't figure out how to open it. They stole all the lawn equipment and tools downstairs and a TV that Heath Hillman had left in our basement for us to store for him. They went upstairs and ransacked the house, spraypainting the walls, mirrors, the piano, a guitar, and the ENTIRE kitchen. They emptied the closets, which had games and boxes of old letters. They made a big mess. They also clipped all of the copper pipes for our plumbing and gas in the basement.

I was very ticked. And afraid. I felt like a helpless child. I cried and was miserable. Quinn came home later and told me how he had gotten to share the gospel with the Alfa guy and how incredible it was. I just looked at him and told him that was great. Yeah, real great. Our house is NEVER going to sell and now it has been robbed, ransacked, and vandalized and he is telling the gospel to people. I slept fitfully that night and woke up early the next morning angry and bitter. I got the children ready to go to friend's houses for the day so that I could help with the cleanup and then I drove over to the house. Of course, during the whole morning and previous evening, I had truth spoken to me. As I am freaking out to Crissy Sharp, Chris (her husband) tells me not to worry, God will be glorified and to just trust Him. Maja Clayton and Quinn loved on me the evening before while I cried. There was a lot of prayer and I could feel it. I was trying to remember all these things while I drove to the house. I pulled in the driveway and walked in the house. One of our neighbors was there and Jeremy Soileau (who is always there when we need him) went to wait outside while Quinn walked with me. I cried as I walked around, mainly because it just looked bad. Some kids had violated my stuff. And it is scary to think of people just breaking into your house when you're not there. Quinn was very sweet to me (he really is topnotch) and Jeremy was great. He is our painter (he's got his own business called Miscellaneous Man) and wrote out an estimate for us for the insurance. We couldn't touch anything really because the insurance guy needed to see it to take pictures so we went to grab a sandwich. While we were out the realtor called and told us to come back to the house. A couple wanted to see it. Quinn did not want the house to be shown but the realtor said they were wanting to possibly make an offer. We went to the house and met the couple, who were newlyweds that had already been preapproved for a loan and had seen the house before. They were really not bothered by the vandalism and laughed with us at some of the spraypainted stuff. (Fish D Hoe was the phrase of the day). They made an offer two hours later. The insurance guy came and didn't bat an eye at any of the mess and is cutting us a check on Wednesday for the two estimates that we had for plumbing, painting, and stolen goods. I started cleaning up after he left, and Quinn and Jeremy started priming the walls and cabinets. Chris and Crissy came over and helped us which was fun. By the end of the day, my bitterness was gone and I was amazed that God would use me (again) to show me his grace. Because of the incident, the new owners will have new appliances in the kitchen, new plumbing, freshly painted kitchen cabinets, new kitchen counters, and new paint on the walls. We had a contract on the house before we went to bed. Praise the Lord.

Resurrection Sunday

We had the most glorious day. An awesome celebration at church (where I cried in front of my 4-5 year old Sunday School class trying to describe to them how sad, then angry, then completely ecstatic Mary Magdelene must have felt on that morning when Jesus had risen; Gracie Sharp just looked at me with wide eyes). After church, we went to the Boykins where we ate, laughed, hunted eggs, and ate some more. TOO MUCH FOOD. Even though it was chilly, the children (23 at one point) played outside and the grownups just hung out, ate dessert, drank wine and sipped delicious coffee. It was wonderful. Great conversation and good company just taste good together. There is something so sweet about companions whose hearts speak to one another. I trust these people with my children, not just to be with them, but to raise them up to be Godly men. I love my church family. I remember the first time Maja Clayton got on to one of my boys for disobeying me when I wasn't watching. I was shocked and definitely taken aback. I just looked at her; I had never seen anything like that in the church. You know, usually we just watch each other's children disobey and then talk about what spoiled brats they are behind their parents' backs. But that's not what we are supposed to do. We are responsible for each other's children; to raise them up in the gospel.

Anyway, it was the best day. Now my family is all watching Planet Earth on the Discovery channel (really cool, by the way). Gonna join 'em. G'night.

Easter Egg Hunt Righteousness

It is Springtime and it is NOT supposed to be 33 degrees in April. Especially for an early morning Easter Egg Hunt at Community Presbyterian Church. The boys had fun. Apparently, they do not have the disdain for the cold weather as their mother. They are actually playing outside right now... without coats.

I have an unreasonable dislike for Easter Eggs. Don't get me wrong. I have glorious memories of Easter as a child. My mother does holidays in a big way and Easter was no different. My sister and I (and sometimes cousins) would dye dozens of boiled eggs the day before Easter. Mom and Dad would hide the Easter baskets on Sunday morning and we would eat chocolate for breakfast. Easter dresses and shiny, new black patent leather shoes ( I still love the smell of new patent leather) were donned and then we were trooped off to church. After church, there was the glorious family lunch with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents everywhere. And then the Easter Egg Hunt. The grownups would count the eggs first (usually between 300 and 400 eggs) and then the children were placed in a room with curtains drawn. That wait was FOREVER. Then the children would find the eggs. It was such a great day. I always did wonder why eggs, ducks, chicks, and bunnies had anything to do with Jesus being raised from the dead, but whatever.

And then I found about Ishtar, the pagan god of fertility. People would pray to Ishtar for their own fertility and he was represnted by chickens and bunnies and whatever else was fertile. Resurrection Day coincided with the Ishtar season and over the years just kinda lumped together. What? WHAT? I was very annoyed and even outraged at this subtle collision with the sacred holiday of Easter. or Resurrection Day. I vowed never, NEVER, to celebrate again the pagan god of Ishtar. Can you picture me standing with my righteous fist in the air and maybe standing on cliff overlooking a sea of Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies? It's beautiful.

And then I had children. At first, it had been relatively easy to avoid doing anything. Corin was little and then Silas was little and they didn't really get it. And then there came an Easter egg hunt before Easter that I would just call egg hunts. And we would hide plastic eggs around the house for weeks after. It was all very deliberate and I had still had my cramping fist in the air with righteousness. Two years ago, when I was pregnant with Felix, we were invited to the Clayton's for Easter and we had a blast. And an Easter egg hunt. And there was lots of chocolate. And a yummy roasted lamb (don't we all love that Maja's family were European immigrants and she has these wonderful European recipes?). Anyway, last year we got the boys Easter presents (no baskets, though) and we went to the Clayton's for Easter fun. This year I have purchased candy to make a basket (Cadberry eggs, yum) to surprise the boys on Easter morning. We will have an egg hunt with the Claytons and the Boykins and the dozens of other people that will be around the houses tomorrow. It will be fun. hmmm, what is my fist doing up in the air?

I have failed in my own righteousness. Again. I do feel guilty, but mostly because others have seen how I have failed. Why was I doing it in the first place? My first intentions were good, but then it turned into how much better I was than everyone else. I struggle so much with my own pride. It frustrates me. Why does my flesh desire to kill me?

Tomorrow is Resurrection Sunday. There is grace and I am in need of it. I am vain and prideful and full of judgement. The gospel is the reason we are here. Encouraging and holding each other accountable to our Maker. Hide a few eggs. They're just eggs. Ishtar never existed anyway. The gospel is what it is all about. I want my children to understand the gospel and why they need it. I want them to tell their children the gospel and why they need it. That is my purpose: to glorify Christ and enjoy Him forever. He is Risen!

Lazy for long enough, I suppose.

Why do I procrastinate about blogging? I enjoy blogging. I love to read other people's blogs and laugh (or cry). I don't get it.

Today is kind of a rambler. I'm irritated that it is cold outside... I'm ready for the pool to be open! Yesterday I got back from camping at Stone Mountain, GA. Camping? You might be saying to yourself... Not Kim! Oh yes. I went with Crissy, Kim, and Terri (ladies from church who could sell you fun from an empty paper sack). We did have lots of fun and the whole three days changed my perspective on camping. I would even go again. Of course, you shouldn't ask them about me completely going hysterical during a thunderstorm Tuesday night. Or that I brought my own hairdryer (Terri borrowed it). The boys had such a good time. Silas, who can sail down a hill on a scooter at lightning speed and has learned how to ride a two-wheeler recently got a skinned knee, elbow, and a black, crusty eye from walking. Corin loved the museum and hiking and kept saying how much his Daddy would "love this place"! Felix was content in his "stroll" as he calls it and had to be coaxed (and sometimes forced) out of it to do other things. I ate six roasted marshmellows in one sitting and far too many Oreos for my own good. I woke up this morning with a tummyache and way too many loads of laundry, but it is an excellent memory. Thanks for talking me into it, Crissy!

I wanted to let everyone know about my friend who I blogged about who had trouble getting pregnant. She's eight weeks pregnant again and things are looking good. Her infertility doctor has told her to find a regular OB/GYN. Please pray that things continue as they should. Her name is Kelly.

I'm anxious to have a "blog" party at my house soon. What do ya'll think?

NEW COMPUTER! Yes, we have a new computer at our house and I can now blog whenever! Yea! I also have e-mail... Kimshill@gmail.com.

More later...

I just changed a stinky diaper. It was gloriously stinky. Full of the nasty stank that I know and love. Sweet cheeks Beex (aka Felix).

I talked to a dear friend of mine today. We've been friends since 1st grade. She and her husband have been married for three years and have been trying to have a baby for almost that long. They have endured several failed invitro attempts and two miscarriages. I cannot imagine her heartache. It was all we talked about as children; getting married and having kids. I talk to her and cry when I get off the phone and wonder why can't she get pregnant. Why? Why is God allowing her to go through this? What is He teaching her? I pray for her to be able to get pregnant. I have seen her grow in Christ and see her faith and I admire her. I don't know if I'd be the same way. I don't know the answers.

She asks me about my kids and laughs at my stories about them. Her sisters get pregnant easily. And so do I.

I'm rambling I know. I'm so thankful for my children, even when they drive me crazy. I'm even thankful that I have endured three vomit-filled pregnancies. And I'll take a stinky diaper anytime.

Man, it's hard not to know the answers.

Nutella

There are many things that I have not yet discovered in the world. I have yet to be stranded on a desert island so I have not had to rely on my keen senses and knowledge of the grand outdoors to survive. I would actually really hate for that to happen because I would probably have to concede to death. I just finished reading "Swiss Family Robinson" and am exceedingly aware of my own ignorance of how to survive. Not only on a deserted island, but in the great state of Alabama if there were ever to be a state of real emergency, hence- no Publix (or the like). Maja told me she would teach me how to garden this year. This is something I need to know. I also need to know how to slaughter an animal and use all the parts for useful things. I'm keeping "Swiss" on hand, just in case.

Anyway, to my new discovery... I had a small get together at my house yesterday evening. Of course, small does mean just 6 ladies, but there were 16 children between us. The husbands were at the session meeting at church, so we just wanted to chat over decaf and snacks (and never be able to finish a sentence without yelling "what's the matter?' or "is he bleeding?' or " if you do not stop hitting people with Rescue Heroes, there is going to be serious consequences!"). We finally decided that the evening was warm enough to send the children outdoors for hide and seek. Snacks were as follows: I made a Double Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookie Batch, Ginger brought delicious party sandwiches left over from lunch, and Heather brought Croissants and Nutella. Hmmm... Nutella. Yeah, you've seen it before. It's on the grocery shelves and looks foreign. Heather said that it's what Europeans use for peanut butter. I was pretty skeptical. After all, it's made with hazelnuts and I'm not a big hazelnut fan. However, it's also made with chocolate, and it did look a wee bit like frosting. Alright, I'm game. I spread some on a croissant and took a tentative bite. Oh my, yum. Utter yumness. It's like a ten second doughnut. I lost self control with the Nutella for the rest of the evening and then Heather (probably because I consumed much of her jar) left me the remainder for my future enjoyment. Quinn thought it was repulsive, but what does he know. He pops Godiva chocolate like m&m's and doesn't even taste it! ( He always looks at me like I'm crazy when I say that). Allow me to recommend Nutella for your future enjoyment as well! Hail to the Motherland!

WANTED...



Someone to buy an old house in Birmingham, AL. It's really cute. It has three bedrooms, one and half baths, and a garage underneath the house. It's all brick on the outside and all hardwood floors on the inside. Yep. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?..... Bueller?

Alright the truth! There has probably been pee in every section of the upstairs. I know for a fact that all of the plants were watered that way. The house does smell a little damp inside, but you get used to it. Oh yeah, you can't walk naked in the front of the house because of the enormous picture window. ( It is a Pella window though) Vomit and diarhea are a way of life for three little boys with excellent gag reflexes and I am a mediocre housekeeper (I'm getting better though with each child that I bear). It has lots and lots of character, including where I ran into the house three times in the minivan. (I just barely missed the garage). The last time caused significant damage to van, but not the house (it's brick, remember?).
Anyway, it's been on the market since June '05 and we're ready to be D-O-N-E!

if you want to take a look, it's Realty South's website and the address is 441 Chestnut St.
birmingham 35206.

I MISS BLOGGING. I think of blogs all the time. The previous one was one that I wrote on paper to blog when I actually had access to a computer. I do have access to computers more than I blog, but somehow I don't feel like blogging when I am around a computer. The other day, I was just dying to blog and so I picked up some paper and jotted down my thoughts. It was good just to write down something. One of the reasons I like blogging so much is that it reminds me of journaling, which I used to do a hundred years ago.

A hundred years ago. An exaggeration? Perhaps. Missy Lowery called me today to wish me a happy 13th anniversary. We met 13 years ago. I moved to Birmingham 10 years ago. This year Quinn and I will be married 8 years. Time goes by and days drudge. It seems surreal. I'm getting older and am enjoying my life. I feel better and know myself better than I did 13 years ago. I like to cringe when I look at myself when I was nineteen. Anyway, now it's 2007. I didn't bother with any New Year's Resolutions this year. I fail them just as fast as I break them. Anyone else with new hopes of a thinner, more organized you? Curious.

Reflections of a Sinner written on 12/27

I've got my hair like I like it. My house is clean (for me anyhow). We're expecting company for lunch. I'm sitting on the couch listening to Sufjan Stevens (HIGHLY recommend) and am inconceivably satisfied with myself. I hear the children skating outside and smile to myself over my proud accomplishment of marrying a wonderful man and creating three beautiful children. I've been blessed by the Lord. And yet- I'm not still.

The fire burns. My insecurities rise up and quench my thoughts. I'm never satisfied. The perverbial ten pounds hangs over my head, even though I know it will not be enough when it's gone. I desire more money... although the same truth about the ten pounds exist also with money. And then the thoughts that I could never admit out loud stifle me so much that I gasp and put hands over my face in despair. Why do I SEEK sin? Romans 3 screams in my face: No one seeks God, not one.

No one reflects my sin more than my children. I discipline them and talk to them about their heart and see my own crap reflected in their eyes.

Why does He see me as beautiful? Why does He love me as His own? I do not understand the depth of my own sin and He loves me. How can it be?

Well, it's Friday. That means that I'm at Crissy Sharp's house checking and updating my blog because SHE has the internet. Somehow, it is impossible for me to have internet at my house. Annoying. Oh, well. Friday night at Crissy Sharp's is the best ever. I wish to invite all of my girlfriends. Have a fuzzy navel, a taco, and a laugh.

I dearly love and appreciate my friends. Thank you for pointing me to Christ, even when I don't want to hear it. The gospel is real. It's not just for an unbeliever. I need to hear it every day. Thank you.