I Don't Know How To Say It, But I Know What I Like

First of all, just to own the Dork To The 10th Power-element, I will confess to being ridiculously excited when I got an email asking if I'd try these fruit rolls. Oh, I was all cool and nonchalant in my email response, but as I typed I just kept saying, "Really? Me?" and "How did they know we were out of snacks?"

So, the little box arrived on Thursday. My kids came in from swimming at 4 and there was not a single fruit roll left by 4:20. There was a whole box of Grape, along with singles of Apple and Strawberry, for a total of 10 "Fruit Twirls". Because I wasn't born yesterday, I sampled one before the kids came home. I tried the grape, and found it to be yummy. I'm not the biggest "fruit leather" fan, but the one I tried was very grape tasting, not waxy or aftertaste-y. The sweetness was just right: fruit-sweet, not sugar or corn syrup-sweet.

The kids each had two, and pronounced them Really Good. So thanks, Fruitabu people, for sending us the Fruit Twirls. We enjoyed them very much. As far as I can tell, they are not available in Oklahoma just yet, but check their website, they could be on a shelf near you. They are also available for purchase directly from the website.

Oh, Swiffer people, we're low on dusters and Honda people, we're completely out of Odyssey mini vans. I'm just putting it out there.

s'tI draH ot epyT htiW ruoY sregniF dessorC

See this bag? I want it! So I entered the contest at Pinks and Blues Blog. You should, too. because if I don't win, I want someone I virtually know to win. OH! It comes with Victoria's Secret perfume, too!

woN I evah ot ssorc ym sregnif. ouY dluohs oot!

Oh! This Should Be Good!

My house is spotless, the flower beds are weedless and the children are all three grade levels ahead in their schoolwork. I did an hour of cardio, some weights and then put a gourmet meal in the Crock Pot. I wrote notes by hand to all of our elderly relatives and crocheted a layette for a baby that's due in two months (not mine ~ sigh), and it's only 8:15, so I spent the morning reading blogs.

Sarcasm. Just another one of the services I offer.

As I was saying. Chilihead, whom I wish to emulate in every possible way, did a cool meme and said that anyone who wanted to could consider herself tagged, and, since I'm a good little former-Baptist, I know that Whosoever Meaneth Me. And now, without further ado, I bring you

THE iPOD MEME

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. NO CHEATING!

How do you feel today?
This Cat's on a Hot Tin Roof - The Brian Setzer Orchestra

What's your outlook on life?
You Can Do Anything - Carole King

What does your family think of you?
Firm Foundation - World's Best Praise and Worship

What do your friends think of you?
No Salt on Her Tail - Mamas & Papas

What do your exes think of you?
Movin' Out - Billy Joel

How's your love life?
Pure Mood - Spyro Gyra

How will your love life be in the future?
Crunchy Granola Suite - Neil Diamond

Will you get married?
I Hate to Sleep Alone - Sonny & Cher

Are you good at school?
Those Good Old Dreams - The Carpenters

Will you be successful?
Rustic Dance - Franz Josef Haydn

What song should they play on your birthday?
My Soul Follows Hard - David Bauer

What song should they play at your graduation?
Still Crazy After All These Years - Karen Carpenter

The Soundtrack of your life?
Roller Derby Queen - Jim Croce

You and your best friends are?
Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears

Happy times:
Better Class of Losers - Randy Travis

Sad times:
The Wonder of it All - Point of Grace

Every day:
There's a Kind of Hush - Carpenters

For tomorrow:
Come, Now is the Time to Worship - Brian Doerksen

For you:
The Potter's Hand - Hillsong Music Australia

What does next year have in store for you?
Fionnghuala (Mouth Music) - Nightnoise

What do you say when life gets too hard?
Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee - A Capella Hymns

What song will you dance to at your wedding?
Switchblade 327 - The Brian Setzer Orchestra

What do you want as your career?
Let There Be Glory and Honor and Praise - Willow Creek Community Church

Your favorite saying:
My Home's in Alabama - Alabama

How will you die?
Undercover Angel - Alan O'Day

Since I'm not sure which of you has an MP3 player, if you decide to play along, just say so in the comments and I'll be right over. :~D.

Is There a Patch for This?

I was congratulating myself on raising such a bright, independent girl. She's 2 years, 4 months old and completely potty trained. She's been taking her pacifier only at naptime and bedtime, with no complaints. She plays in the back yard on her own. Today, I went outside to see what she was up to:Miss Bright and Independent was found under the slide, sans underwear, sucking a stashed pacifier.

Wonder if those Nicorette folks have considered something for the pacifier set?

***UPDATED TO ADD:***

As she is currently our youngest, I treasure her "littleness." I should probably have said that I haven't pressed any of these "big girl" issues. She decided one day not too long ago that she didn't like diapers and preferred the potty. Now, convincing her of the merits of underwear took a little doing, but I only made a case about it when we left the house. She was Nature Girl (nekkid under her dresses) at home. In less than a week, she was a card-carrying (panty wearing?) member of the "I'm a Big Kid Now" club.

The weaning from the pacifier was more my idea. When she turned 2, we began to let her have her pacifier only in her bed. She could have it any time she wanted it, but she had to stay in her bed. Even now, she'll say she needs a "passy break" and request one to suck on her bed. When she's done, she willingly replaces the pacifier in the basket.

To be honest, I love the (very few) remaining vestiges of her babyhood, and after I took her picture, I sat down on the grass, pulled her into my lap and sang all of her favorite songs.

A Suggestion

I had the distinct pleasure and privilege today of doing something so simple, yet so meaningful, that I had to share it with you.

You know that Pixie plays the harp. What I don't think I've mentioned is that her teacher is a living legend in harp circles. She taught my sister-in-law in the '80's, and she teaches Pixie now. She is in her late 70's and God thoughtfully arranged for her to live in the assisted living center half a mile from our house. In the '80's, my mother-in-law traveled 100 miles one way every week for my sil to learn from this woman, and she's right around the corner from our house!

Anyway, today I did her a very small favor that literally brought her to tears. I shopped for a graduation gift for one of her other students, who is graduating high school this month. She likes to give her harpists embroidered handkerchiefs, and I found a local embroidery shop that had some lovely offerings. I ordered the handkerchief, and when it was ready, I took it to the assisted living center along with a small box, tissue, wrapping paper and ribbon. Mrs. W. was so pleased with the hankie she squealed with delight! Then I wrapped it for her and placed it on her end table and she called and invited the graduate to come by at her convenience for a visit. She is so excited to give this little gift that she can hardly stand the wait!

Do you have a friend, family member or former neighbor in a nursing home or assisted living center? Would you consider offering to help them with shopping for graduation or wedding gifts? Mrs. W. says that more than the loss of her own independence, she grieves that she can't do for others as she once did. She had tears in her beautiful gray eyes as I said goodbye today, and she will have the universal joy of giving a thoughtful gift to someone dear to her.

Drinking Deeply From the Fountain

On the recommendation of a friend (after she listened to me blubber like a baby on the phone for half an hour), I've taken a break from my inductive study of the book of Titus and camped out in the Psalms. I decided to crawl up in my Daddy's lap, as it were, and soak his robe with my tears. I'm ashamed to admit how difficult it was for me to arrive at that decision. Why is that not the first plan of action when I'm feeling distant and dry and worthless?

Today, I read Psalm 22, referred to by some commentaries as "The Pslam of the Cross." David felt far from God. Jesus was far from God because He took my sin on Himself. I feel far from God, for reasons both known and unknown to me. I will press in and submit to whatever work He is pleased to do in me, and I will bear it proclaiming that He alone is worthy of praise.

I gave in to the wracking sobs that have been building for some time. The tears were hot and innumerable. I concluded that I really don't want to be anywhere other than where I am. I don't want to know anything except what it pleases the Lord to teach me. If I never have another warm, fuzzy feeling as long as I live, I will only glorify God who by His grace and for His glory created me, redeemed me and called me according to His purpose.

At present I am kept in peace as my mind is steadfast and my faith is firm.

Come One, Come All! It's Clemntine's Mall!

With stores and stuff from wall to wall, items large and items small, flying flags and towers tall...

Rabbit wonders what I might have in my very own mall, and since I know she's got kids and responsibilities and stuff, and I don't want to be the reason she's losing sleep, and because I know that the Internet needs to know these things...here goes.

First, the rules as I understand them:
You get to create your own Mall. Choose 6 stores that would definitely be included in your ideal one stop mall. Then as a bonus you can pick your favorite restaurant and fast food eatery to be located there, too. After you’ve created it, post it and tag some bloggers to join in the fun.

Rabbit confessed to not being much of a shopper, so I feel safe in admitting that I'd rather crawl on my hands and knees over broken glass to a medieval torture chamber for the root canal/bamboo manicure combo than darken the door of a mall. Not that I feel strongly about it or anything. Ergo, my mall won't have any "mall" stores. Here are my picks:

1. Daniel's Shoes. Our family's feet are weird in every conceivable way: narrow, wide (one kid has both: narrow heels and wide insteps), and the folks at Daniel's keep us looking and feeling great. Also, they always have a nice selection of Brighton shoes and accessories. We love Daniel's!

2. Mardel Christian and Education. Christian books, Bibles, homeschool supplies, music, toys, tee-shirts and all the office supplies you could ever need. When I'm there, Gadget Man tells people I'm visiting the Mother Land.

3. Hanna Andersson. The clothes are bright, soft and are very handmedownable (is TOO a word). I'd get clothes for all of us here and we'd sit around looking very fresh-faced and Swedish all the time. It's what I call a win-win, people.

4. Jane Iredale. The best makeup ever. Gadget Man's uncle is a dermatologist, and he has us all using this stuff. I'd need to have a giant store of it in my mall, because, as I always say: "If a barn needs paintin'..."

5. A movie theater. Six screens, one for each inhabitant of the Clem Domicile, with rocking, reclining, super-duper comfy seats. Also, there would be a little doohickey that you could use to place concession orders to be delivered right to your seat. Also, they'd have an awesome child-care area like the one at the Harkins Theatres. Oooh! And if someone came into my theater and talked obtrusively, used foul language or annoyed me in any way, a "Clod Detector" in their seat would cause the bottom to drop out of their chair and they'd be sucked away down a chute and land squarely in Mrs. Lewis's 6th grade class where I learned that calling attention to myself in public is rude and to be avoided unless I was choking. They'd have to stay there until they reformed or Jesus came back, at which point I'd grant clemency.

6. Haggard's Furniture. These folks take good care of you. They're knowledgeable and their designers are top-notch. Which works for me since all my taste is in my mouth. With their help, the Clem Domicile resembles a human habitation and not a bear's den.

And my restaurant picks (because it's my mall, and I can nosh if I want to):

For lunch: Inspirations Tea Room where I go every chance I get. We had Teen Queens' 16th Birthday Tea here and I still get all misty just thinking about it. Great place. Awesome teas. Bible verse on every plate. Man! I'm getting hungry!

For dinner: The Melting Pot which is my favorite place to go on a double date. It's a three-hour meal, minimum, and the conversation flows freely as you dip and eat and cook and dip.

Fast food? Bleck. The only reason for fast food restaurants is to be able to grab a vat of Diet Dr. Pepper on the go. So my mall would just have a soda fountain out in the middle.

Thank you for visiting my mall. If you've got a mall of your own, leave the link in the comments. If not, make one and let me know so I can come visit!

Happy Birthday Sweet 16!

Teen Queen was born 16 years ago today. I had had a non-stress test on Thursday with marginal results, so I was scheduled for an induction on Friday.

I will never forget stepping out of our tiny (700sf) rent house, into a humid May morning in Lawton, OK. I looked around the living room before I closed the door and thought, the next time I come into this room, I'll be carrying a baby. Then I lowered my considerable girth into our champagne-colored 1986 Honda Accord, swinging first one and then the other massively swollen ankle into the car. I fastened the seatbelt under The Belly and thought how the next time I rode in this car, I would buckle the baby in separately. What a relief that would be.

Gadget Man drove us to the hospital and I waddled to the Labor and Delivery desk. I surrendered myself to the bagging and tagging that those of us who've given birth in hospitals know all to well. I was set up in a room with monitors, IV and TV. I was on my way! I'd be holding that baby in no time!

Or, you know, not.

At 7:00 PM, after 12 hours of pitocin-induced contractions with very little dilation, the IV was removed and I was sent to a regular room to eat (first time that day) and enjoy the first decent night's sleep I'd had in weeks, thanks to the sedative thoughtfully provided by my doctor.

At about 4:30 AM, I was as wide awake as a tree full of owls, having just enjoyed the most consecutive hours of sleep I'd had since February. I twiddled my thumbs and waited to be summoned back to Labor & Delivery for Induction, Part Deux.

Pitocin was resumed, contractions were endured, water was broken, ice chips were consumed.

When the third woman came in, delivered and left, I had to resist the urge to yell out, "I was here FIRST!! The rest of you just cross your legs and WAIT!!"

At a little after six in the evening, my doctor came in, assessed my non-progress and suggested that it was time to consider a surgical delivery. At which point I uttered the following memorable phrase, just oozing maternal bliss:

"Cut my dadgummed head off, just get this thing out of me!"

The relief for me was that it was no longer up to me to "progress". I was anesthetized and given an appealing 'do "down there", swiftly managed with a single-blade disposable razor and foaming betadine wash. Which was cold. Yay. But things were happening now, so I was not complaining.

At 7:50 PM on Saturday, May 18, 1991, this:

16 terrifying, glorious, miraculous, painful, exhilarating, exhausting years later, this:
This is my beloved daughter, in whom I am well pleased. To God be the glory.

They Were Mean to My Boy Today

We have some neighbors that are good friends of ours. Their kids play with our kids. We've been camping together and eaten holiday meals together. We have three girls and a boy. They have three boys and a girl. Their 9-year-old and 8-year-old (two oldest, both boys) tire quickly of WonderBoy and can be dismissive of him. It hurts my heart, but it doesn't seem to bother WonderBoy, so I try not to dwell on it.

Today, Pixie and TeenQueen took WonderBoy down to the cul-de-sac near the neighbors' house to play. About 30 minutes later, Pixie and WonderBoy came home and WonderBoy announced, " 'Red' is coming over to play! Can we make snow cones?" Before I could answer, Pixie informed me, " 'Red' isn't really coming. He just lied and told WonderBoy to go on home and that he'd follow. Then he told me he wasn't really going to and wanted just me to stay and play with him. I thought that was mean, so I came home too." I love that girl.

I called the mom and just said, "WonderBoy's feelings are hurt because Red didn't come over like he said he would." She said she'd talk to him.

My heart is breaking and the tears are streaming as I type. He wants so much to be included, to be wanted. He just wants to play. And he's so SO much better than he used to be, and miles ahead of where he "ought" to be (according to the developmental specialists). And he's funny, and cheerful and generous. Why can't they just try? Accommodate? A little? WonderBoy works so hard every waking moment of his life, fighting every natural impulse he has, just to behave in a somewhat socially-acceptable way. How can they not see the sweetness of Heaven in his sparkly eyes? How can they look at that earnest little face and lie?

The truth is, I know how they can do it. The truth is that I was an insecure, know-it-all bully as a kid. The truth is, tricking a kid into going another direction so that my friends and I could be relieved of his or her presence was all in a day's play for me. Those kids who just wanted to be included, to be wanted, to just play. Just like the little boy that God has used to show me His love and mercy, and to show me my own depravity. In sin was I conceived...

Red, I forgive you. You don't know yet what you do. But, someday, you might and your heart will break too and I'm sorry for that because it's a searing, seething ache that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Chester, Lea, Peggy, Amy, Jimmy, David, and Tana: I can see your faces and hear your voices and I'm sorry that it took growing up and having children of my own for me to see the image of Creator God in you. I hurt you with things I did and said. I lied to you and made fun of you and led the jeers in the cafeteria and on the bus. I was wrong. I am so, so sorry.

Heavenly Father, thank You for loving me enough to show me my need of the atoning sacrifice of Your Perfect Son, and thank You for giving me the faith to trust in that sacrifice to reconcile me, a sinner, with Your perfect holiness. By the power of Your Holy Spirit, give me the ability and the desire to extend a portion of the great grace You've so generously given me to those whose actions and words are painful to me and those I love.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Just a Little Housekeeping

Not the actual get-out-the-Pledge-Grab-Its kind, mind you. As I am allergic to housework, that will have to wait until the health department makes good on it's monthly threats.

I just feel like a few updates are in order, and since I lost the loooooooooong post I started about my tattoo, it's all I got right now folks.

Let's start with Courtenay. Remember this story? Well, SHE WON! If you voted or forwarded or helped in any way, thanks so very very much.

Baby Redneck has resigned herself to the daily donning of underwear. Can I get an Amen?

Teen Queen made it home from her choir tour. Sans any extra pieces of mind, I'll have you know. That's okay, though. We're pretty crazy about her just the way she is.

The A/C is fixed, and we narrowly escaped being ripped off and talked into a whole new system when all that was needed was some little dooflotchy with widgets on one side. It goes on the outside of the boxy-thing on the side of the house and I don't know what it does or what happened to the one that was on there, but for $140 we're back in climate-controlled comfort.

I am blessed by your thoughtful repsonses to my previous post. It means so much to be able to put my jumbled-up thoughts down and be able to examine them. And when each of you stops by to shed a little of your considerable light on my situation, things become much clearer. Please know how much I appreciate your loving words.

And this concludes today's edition of ButtercUpdates (I just made that up, can you tell?)

Deep Thinking Makes My Head Hurt

I'm extremely, globally dissatisfied. I don't mean with the globe. I think our habitable little hunk of Universe is quite beautiful and wonderfully adequate for our needs. Go Earth! No, I'm globally dissatisfied in that there is not one single area of my life that seems in order, correct or otherwise, you know, okay. A few examples:

• The garage looks like Sanford and Son are our boarders, and they've let things go a bit.
• Master closet? Think thrift store. On the wrong side of town. Run by racoons.
• My exercise program du jour consists of walking by the treadmill in my bedroom twice a day: once when I get up, and again when I go to bed. Sometimes, when I'm feeling frisky, I walk by it on my way to sit on the couch that's next to it, and again when I get up to see if that hollow-sounding thud on the back porch was one of the children's heads. Again.
• My faith walk has become a crawl, and not a perky, prancing-around-on-all-fours affair, either. More along the lines of desperate, dirty, pathetic blind person missing three limbs and with a wicked itch that can't be reached. The more I pray and search the Scriptures the worse things seem: deeper into the valley of the shadow of death, further than ever from streams and green pastures.

Don't get me wrong. I'm aware that these are not real problems. I've HAD real problems, and this is nothing like that. For one thing, during the really difficult and scary times, I haven't had the luxury of devoting time and energy to whining about my garage, closet, thighs or anything else. Survival Mode is my friend. I know what to do in a crisis, and how to make it from Point A to Point C by skipping Point B altogether because there just isn't time and it's not covered by insurance. There are many in our extended Blogging Family of Faith who are truly in distress, and I don't wish to diminish their situations by complaining vainly.

I do wish to take this moment and lift my eyes up to the hills from whence cometh my help. I read recently (in a blog - just cant' remember which one. If it was yours, say so in the comments and I'll give you credit. Bev? Was it you?) that looking around instead of up is a bad idea. I agree, metaphorically speaking. In practical terms, I'd better be looking around, because in the Clem Domicile if you're only looking up, you'll be getting a free ride in Barbie's convertible straight to the pit of Legos, taking the corners on two tires courtesy of the pink lemonade varnish on the kitchen floor.

At any rate, there are things I need to just get up and do. There are things I need to just get over. Lord, give me the wisdom to know the difference.

This is Just Gooder 'n' Grits!

Thanks so much, BooMama!
We're ALL enjoying this little treasure!

Baby, it's not cold outside

Air conditioner's broke and so are the Clems. Ideas on how to get these guys to give us a discount for the free publicity are welcome.

Mother's Day Blog Love

My dear friend Jules at Everyday Mommy, Design Wizardress Extraordinaire, is giving away a new blog design for Mother's Day. As you can see, I've already benefitted handsomely from her creative genius. Now I want to spread some of that lovin' around.

I hereby nominate my friend Carly's blog, talking myself out of the tree. Carly's a first-time mom and a new blogger and my only international commenter, which makes me feel very cosmopolitan, indeed. It would make me so happy to be able to surprise her with a snazzy new blog design in honor of her first Mother's Day. Here's hopin'!

And, you don't have to win a contest to spiff up your little corner of Blogdom. Check out Jules' portfolio and very reasonable rates. You'll find that some of your favorite blog stops were designed by Jules so if you're ready for a new look, just drop her a line.

They Asked For It

Lisa and Diane (and everyone else, I'm sure) are itchin' to know seven random things about me. The trick here will be narrowing the immense randomness down to just seven things. Or maybe I should just list the seven MOST random things. How about seven randomly chosen random things? Is it possible I'm making this harder than it's supposed to be?

First, I shall copy and paste the regs:

Here’s how it works: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to tag others and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

And now, I shall bring those of you who dare to read on dangerously close to the precipice of your sanity as I attempt to bore you completely out of your skull with

7 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT CLEMNTINE

7. I have a tattoo. I got it on the night before my 30th birthday. I had to drive out of state to get it because at the time, tattoo parlors were outlawed in Oklahoma. If you're nice, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

6. I play the French Horn, and I was really good at it. I haven't played anywhere since 1999, and I miss it a lot. I haven't pursued any opportunities lately because I'm afraid I don't still "have it."

5. I became a lactation consultant during my 2nd pregnancy because I was determined to be more successful nursing than I was the first time around. In doing so, I discovered one of the great joys of my life: encouraging mothers.

4. My favorite color is yellow. My mother says that one of my first words was "lallow". My favorite clothes are yellow, my kitchen is yellow and my favorite foods are all yellow: corn, squash, bananas, lemon-flavored anything. There is very little that goes wrong in my life that isn't made at least more bearable with the liberal application of yellow.

3. I have "Nanny Goat Hairs". And I hate them. They get all ingrown and sore and make me look like I have Chin Chicken Pox.

2. Barry Manilow may write the songs, but I KNOW ALL THE WORDS. One of the favorite after-dinner pastimes at the Clem Domicile is a little game we like to call, "That's Not A Real Song, Mama". It starts when I burst out into "You're the reason our kids are ugly, Little Darlin'. Aw, but looks ain't everything. And money ain't everything. And I love you just the same." Then someone says, "That's not a real song, Mama," and we all have to gather around the MacBook while I prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that "Yuh-HUH! Is TOO!".

1. I've met Carol Burnett. When I told her that I spent every afternoon from 4 to 5 with her while my mom worked and that she made me feel safe at home by myself, she teared up. Then she kissed me on the cheek.

There you have it. Now we're BFF, cuz you know even the boring stuff.

Oh, and I tag the people who haven't done this. Yes, all both of you.

Car Conversation

Driving across town today, Pixie wondered aloud about the restaurant we passed.

"Mom, what kind of food to they have at the Dee Wy Nasty Buffet?"

I turned my head just in time to see the establishment in question, the DYNASTY BUFFET.

It's called a Teachable Moment, folks, and it's why we homeschool.