Random Thoughts

It seems like my head is full of these lately. There is no rhyme or reason to anything going on in my noggin... There is no way to "connect" these ideas or even to see how they all make sense. Part of it is just me and my lunatic self in preparation for a move. I don't know why, but I have this idea that "blogging" will make me feel better. Sort of like an new-fashioned diary. Or like talking to someone without actually burdening them with listening to me. So, here they are (my random thoughts) for anyone who might be interested.
1. I was so sad to hear about the tragic death of Steven Curtis Chapman's daughter. My heart hurts for them and their son, who was the one driving the car. Wow. If you're like me, it feels like you know them. I've listened to his music since high school, and I've followed the stories of his daughters' adoptions. It just makes me sad.
2. My little nephew is feeling bad. He hasn't been himself for a few days now, and I just talked to his mommy. The sweetie woke up when I was on the phone with her, and I could hear him crying. It could be reflux, but they just aren't sure. I want him to feel better. And, I know that would make his parents feel better, too.
3. The boy brought home a TON of stuff from school today... "End-of-Year Cleaning" is what they call it. I am surrounded (already) by piles of stuff that I don't know what to do with. Now, I have more piles. That's OK, though. I still remember what it's like to teach and how good it feels to purge the classroom of all that stuff. Especially because in your heart you know that you are about to purge the classroom of all those little people!
4. I dropped my sewing machine on my foot today. The top part... where the bone rises up. If you are a sewing person, you know how heavy those things are. If you aren't a sewing person, take my word for it... they are heavy. I was attempting to put it up on a shelf (over my head) so the movers could pack it with other sewing-type objects. To put it in simple terms, it HURT. I have a huge bruise and a gigantic knot. Dan says, "It's broken." I say, "I can still walk on it, and I cannot move across the country with a cast." I cried because it probably won't work again (the machine). I cried because I am now trying to get ready for the packers while limping. I cried because I don't know what I was thinking... they were gonna pack that sewing machine with some random items from the garage and a few Legos from Eli's room, and a shoe... not with the sewing things.
5. I didn't eat lunch today... I had a Cappuccino Blast from Baskin Robbins. I deserved it after dropping a sewing machine on my foot.
6. The RIGHT "David" actually won "American Idol" last night. Praise the Lord. Little David was cute and can definitely sing, but big David is the BEST! We (me and the boy) whooped and hollered like a bunch of fools when his name was announced. It's been a bright spot in my day. Is that so sad?
Well there they are... my random thoughts at this moment. And, if anyone wants an update, the mystery hives are gone. Life.

Home with Hives and a PCS

I knew it would happen. I even told myself that I needed to be prepared. But, as usual, it didn't work. I am beginning to stress. The move is quickly approaching, and I am not ready. I knew it would hit me this week. Karate is over, PWOC is done, AWANAS is finished, we've been "farewelled" as a family at evening chapel, Dan's been "farewelled" at the Regiment, and school is winding to an end. And, I am no more prepared to pack up and move than I was a year ago. This was going to be my week to start. To start taking pictures down (the packers don't do that), to start organizing and putting away my scrapbook stuff (the packers don't know what that is), to start taking things to the thrift store (the packers don't do that), and to start putting aside things that we are taking with us (the packers don't do that). I know some of you are wondering why I didn't start this week. What is my excuse? It's a 2nd grade boy who's missed 3 days of school with a major case of hives. We even went to the doctor yesterday. The best part is, we don't know what's causing them. Being parents of an "allergic" child has made us amateur detectives in some ways and mini-medical experts in other ways, but this one has us stumped. Hives all over his arms, legs, hands, and face. The doctor says "contact dermatitis." We say, "From WHAT?" We have racked our brains, and we cannot come up with anything new or different that he's touched or eaten or been exposed to. Oh well. With Elijah, you learn to accept the unexplained. And, I hate that. I know that's why God gave him to me. I like ANSWERS, and with this boy... sometimes there are no answers. Anyway, he's got enough ointments, creams, and potions to grease up the entire neighborhood. So, with him home, not much "packing" or "preparing for packers" gets done.
Which leads me to my main complaint. The term "PCS." The Army loves its acronyms, but this one irks me. "PCS" stands for "Permanent Change of Station." Ha! Their version of "permanent" is 2 or 3 years, and then you do it all over again! I really don't mind this way of life; I even encouraged Dan to stop talking about it and join. But, I would like the Army to be honest about it. Call it what it is. A "temporary" change of station.
So, I sit here typing a blog with Scooby Doo blaring in the den, and I haven't begun to prepare my house for the packers. That is another misconception. They should be called "Dumpers" instead of "Packers." They love to take the carefully sorted and organized contents of a cutely color-coordinated plastic bin, and DUMP them into a large cardboard box. Then, they pack the cute empty bin in another box. Then, they label those two boxes with some random wrong description. I am sorry if anyone out there is a professional packer. I am sorry if anyone out there happens to love a professional packer. I, however, have issues with them and their methods. So, I will arm myself with about a trillion Ziploc bags, and I will begin to prepare my worldly possessions for dumping and mislabeling and breaking (I can't even talk about that aspect.) But today, I will have the assistance of a greased-up, red-speckled, itchy, Benadryl-infused 9-year old. Wonder how much I'll get done?

Happy Mother's Day!

Just a quick (but heartfelt!) wish for two great moms!! The sermon at church today was all about the wonderful things that women do for us and bring to the world around us. And, I know for myself, that my mom does all that and more! (I also happen to know that Dan had an awesome example as well!) So, to our moms and to all the FANTASTIC moms I know out there... Happy Mother's Day!!

Jr. Olympics

This post is solely for the grandparents. (And perhaps an Aunt and Uncle). You are all welcome to read it, but there are a select group of people (4), who will enjoy it more than others. Elijah competed in the Jr. Olympics 2 weekends ago, and I didn't have a chance to get the pictures up yet. The nightmare that is called "PCS" is upon us, and things are starting to get a little more hectic and crazy than they normally are. (I'll have to elaborate on that whole "PCS" thing later.) Anyway, here is the grandson in all his Jr. Olympic glory!

Iron Peaches?

There is a movie that I used to watch on a weekly basis. I actually haven't seen it in a long time (6 years?). I have a friend here (cousin Sarah) who also enjoys this movie, and we both LOVE to quote LOTS of lines from the movie. (Much to the annoyance of the rest of our friends!) Because our year as PWOC Board Members is winding down, we decided that a "Girls' PJ Movie Night" was necessary. (I would post pictures, but I want to keep the friends I have!) Guess what movie we watched?!? Yep... Steel Magnolias. It was just as funny and sad and "true-to-life" in the South as I remember.

"You know what they say... if you can't say anything nice about somebody, come sit by me!"

"I have a strict policy- no one cries alone in my presence."

"This is it... I have found it... I am in hell."

And I could go on forever. But, I won't. I'll get to the point. Watching the movie with all my sweet gal pals got me to thinking. About the real life "steel magnolias" I know. Beautiful women (inside and out) who face daily difficulties and even life-changing tragedies with amazing courage and grace. I am so blessed to know them. They are friends, acquaintances, and relatives. They live in South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, and right here in sunny Fort Irwin. A lot of them are true Southern girls. Some of them are from the Midwest, and some are even from (gasp!) the North! Regardless of where they were born, they are my real-life "steel magnolias." They make me grateful. They teach me. They encourage me. And, they inspire me.

Oh yeah... I almost forgot. The night I was getting ready to leave for the PJ party, Dan and Elijah were talking to me about their "boy plans" for the evening. Dan asked me, "What movie are ya'll (the girls) watching tonight?" Before I could answer him, Elijah did. "They're watchin' Iron Peaches," he said. We (Dan and I) both looked at him with a very puzzled and confused look. Then, it hit me. Elijah had said "Iron Peaches." He meant "Steel Magnolias." After we figured out what in the heck he'd said, we all got a good laugh. So... with that... I'm sending all my love and prayers to all the "Iron Peaches" out there (and you know who you are)!

Worth Repeating

The following is a conversation I had with Elijah while sitting in the car. (Warning: It is not for the "weak stomached.") We were waiting on Dan, who was inside Firestone, paying for our new tires. Yippee. Why does spending money (large amounts of it) on things like tires make me irritable? Yes, I know tires are necessary and important. But, I can just imagine what else I could do with that money... how many trips to Target, how many dinners out, how many Grande Lattes, and you see where I am going with this. Where was I? OK, so we're sitting there in the car, and I look over at my son.
Me: "You need to get a Kleenex and clean out your nose. It's gross."
Elijah: "No, it's not!"
Me: "Yes, it is. It's full of boogies."
Elijah: "I don't care, I like it like that."
Me: "What are you gonna do one day when the pretty girls want to talk to you and sit by you? Are you gonna have a nose full of boogies then?"
Elijah: "No." (pause) "But that's not happening today."
Me: "So, you don't have to clean it out today?"
Elijah: "Exactly."
Lord help the pretty girls. Here's a tip for all you future "girlfriends" out there: He's very sweet, and really handsome. He's smart and funny, too. But, if you are really interested in my son, just hand him a Kleenex and give him some time to take care of things.

The Way I Feel

Aren't there days when you just wanna tell the whole world to go jump in a lake? OK, maybe not the whole world. But perhaps a few people? Well, this is my beautiful nephew. Sharing his sentiment with the world. Actually, he's just "discovered" his tongue. Pretty darn cute, huh? Little do his mommy and daddy know... they will see this again. And again. And again. And, it won't be nearly as cute. It will be done in a little fit of temper. It will probably be accompanied by spitting. Or, if he takes after his Aunt Autumn, it will be done behind a slammed door. No, he's not telling anyone to go jump in a lake. Yet.